 | The Rebellion |  |
Act Fifth.
Scene I.
Enter the King, Antonio, old Taylor, Evadne, Aurelia, the King and Antonio whisper.King.
For this discovery be still Antonio,
The frowning Law, may with a furrowed face
Hereafter looke upon; but nere shall touch
Thy condemn'd body. Here from a Kings hand,
Take thy Aurelia; our command shall smooth
The rising billowes of her Fathers rage,
And charme it to a calme: let one be sent
To certifie our pleasure, we wo'd see him.
Old Tay.
Your graces Wil shall be in all obey'd.
King.
Thy loyall love, makes thy King poore.
Let not your judgement, Royall sir, be question'd,
To terme that love, was but a subjects duty.
Exit.
King.
You sent the poyson, did you?
Ant.
Yes, and it like your grace, the Apothecary
Cald it a strong provocative to madnesse.
King.
Did not he question what you us'd it for?
Ant.
O my disguise saved him that labour, sir,
My habit, that was more Physitian than my selfe,
Told him 'twas to dispatch some property
That had beene torter'd with five thousand drugges
To try experiment: another man
Sha'nt buy the quantity of so much Rats-bane
Shall kill a Flea, but shall be had forsooth
Before a Justice, be question'd; nay, perhaps
Confin'd to peepe throw an Iron grate:
When your Physitian may poyson, who
Not, cum privilegio: it is his trade.
Enter Giovanno.
Evad.
O my Sebastine.
Gio.
Peace my Avadne, the King must not yet know me.
Evad.
My brother has already made you knowne.
Gio.
Wil't please your Highnesse?
King.
What Sabastiano, to be still a King
Of Universall Spaine, without a Rivall?
Yes, it does please me, and you ministers
Of my still growing greatnesse, shall e're long
Find I am pleas'd with you, that boldly durst
Plucke from the fixed arme of sleeping Justice
Her long sheath'd sword; and whet the rusty blade
Upon the bones of Machvile, and his
Confederate Rebells.
Gio.
That my Lord is yet to doe, let him mount higher.
That his fall may be too deep for a resurrection;
They're gone to the great Hall, whither wilt please your
Secure. Their French troopes I have sent as uselesse into
France, by vertue of Raimonds Ring, which he gave
Me to bid the Generall by that token
To march to this City.
King.
What say the Colonells will they assist me?
Ant.
Doubt not my Lord.
King.
Come then, lets goe guarded, with such as you
'Twere sinne to feare, were all the world untrue.
Exeunt.
Enter Taylers.
Old.
Now for the credit of Taylers.
3 Tay.
Nay, Master and we doe not act as they say,
With any Players in the Globe of the world,
Let us be baited like a Bull for a company of
Strutting Coxecombes: nay we can act I can tell you.
Old.
Well I must to the King; see you be perfect,
Ile move it to his Highnesse.
Exit.
1 Tay.
Now my Masters are we to doe; d'e marke me,
doe—
3 Tay.
Doe; what doe? Act, act, you foole you, do said
you, what doe? you a Player, you a Plasterer, a meere durt
dawber; and not worthy to bee mentioned with Virmine,
that exact Actor: doe, I am asham'd on't, fie.
2 Tay.
Well said Virmine, thou tieklest him y'faith.
4 Tay.
Doe, pha.
1 Tay.
Well play; we are to play a play.
3 Tay.
Play a play a play, ha, ha, ha; O egredious nonsensensicall
wigeon, thou shame to our crosse-legg'd corporation;
thou fellow of a sound, play a play; why forty pound
golding of the beggers Theater speakes better, yet has a
marke for the sage audience to exercise their dexterity, in
throwing of rotten apples whilst my stout Actor pockets,
and then eates up the injury: play a play, it makes my worship
laugh yfaith.
To him Virmine, thou bitst him yfaith.
1 Tay.
Well, act a Play before the King.
2 Tay.
What play shall we act?
3 Tay.
To fret the French the more, we will act strange
but true, or the stradling Mounsieur, with the Neopolitan
Gentleman between his legges.
2 Tay.
That wo'not act well.
3 Tay.
O giant of incomperable ignorance: that wo'not
act well, ha, ha, that wo'not doe well, you Asse you.
2 Tay.
You bit him for saying doe: Uirmine leave biting
you'd best.
1 Tay.
What say you to our Spanish Bilbo?
3 Tay.
Who Ieronimo?
1 Tay.
I.
3 Tay.
That he was a mad rascall to stab himselfe.
1 Tay.
But shall wee act him?
2 Tay.
I let us doe him.
3 Tay.
Doe againe, ha.
2 Tay.
No, no, let us act him.
3 Tay.
I am content.
1 Tay.
Who shall act the Ghost.
3.
Why marry that will I, I Uirmine.
1.
Thou dost not looke like a Ghost.
3.
A little Players deceite: flower will doe't; Marke me,
I can rehearse, marke me rehearse some:
When this eternall substance of the soule
Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh,
I was a Tayler in the Court of Spaine.
2 Tay.
Courtier Uirmine in the Court of Spaine.
3 Tay.
I, there's a great many Courtiers Uirmine indeed:
Those are they beg poore mens livings;
But I say, Tailer Uermine is a Court Tailer.
2 Tay.
Who shall act Ieronimo?
3 Tay.
That will I:
Marke if I doe not gape wider than the widest
Mouth'd Fowler of them all, hang me:
“Who calls Jeronimo from his naked bed: haugh!
“Alas it is my sonne Horatio.
1 Tay.
Very fine: but who shall act Horatio?
2 Tay.
I, who shall doe your sonne?
3 Tay.
What doe, doe againe: Well I will act Horatio.
2 Tay.
Why you are his father.
3 Tay.
Pray who is fitter to act the sonne, than the father
That begot him.
1 Tay.
Who shall act Prince Belthazer and the King?
3 Tay.
I will doe Prince Belthazer too: and for the King
Who but I? which of you all has such a face for a King,
Or such a leg to trip up the heeles of a Traytor?
2 Tay.
You will doe all I thinke.
3 Tay.
Yes marry will I; who but Uirmine? yet I will
Leave all to play the King:
Passe by Ieronimo.
2 Tay.
Then you are for the King?
3 Tay.
I bully I.
1 Tay.
Lets goe seeke our fellowes, and to this geere.
3 Tay.
Come on then.
Exeunt.
A table and stooles set. Enter Brave,
Men of our needfull profession, that deale in such commodities
as mens lives, had need to looke about 'em 're
they trafficke: I am to kill Raimond, the Devills cozen german,
for he weares the same complexion: but there is a
right Devill that hath hired me, that's Count Machvile.
Good Table conceale me, here will I wait my watch-word:
but stay, have I not forgot it (Then) I then is my arme to
enter. I heare them comming.
Goes under the table.
Enter the King, Antonio, old Tayler, Evadne, Aurelia, above. Machvile, Raimond, Philippa, Auristella, Giovanno, the Colonells, with a guard below.
Mach.
Pray take your seats.
Not well, prethee retire.
Phi.
Sicke, sicke at heart.
Au.
Well wrought poison, O how joy swells me.
Ant.
You see my Lord the poison is boxt up.
above.
Phi.
Health waite upon this Royall company.
King.
Knowes she we are here?
Ant.
O no my Lord, 'tis to the twins of treason:
Machvile, and Raymond.
Ful.
Royall there's something in't.
Aler.
It smells ranke o'th Traytor.
Pan.
Are you i'th wind on't?
Au.
Will you leave us?
Phi.
I cannot stay; O I am sicke to death.
Exit.
Au.
Or Ile nere trust poison more.
Mach.
Pray seate your selves
Gentlemen, though your deserts have merit
(They sit about the Table.
And your worth's have deserv'd nobly;
But ingratitude, that should be banisht
From a Princes breast, is Philips favorite.
King.
Philip Traytor, why not King? I am so.
Ant.
Patience good my Lord; ile downe.
Exit.
Mach.
It lives too neere him:
You that have venter'd with expence of blood,
And danger of your lives, to rivet him
Unto his Seate with peace: you that in War
He term'd his Atlasses, and prest with praises
Your brawny shoulders; cald you his Colossuses,
And said your lookes frighted tall war
Out of his territories: now in peace,
The issue of your labour: this bad man,
Philip I meane, made of ingratitude,
Wo'not afford a name, that may distinguish
Your worthy selves from Cowards:
Civet Cats spotted with Rats dung,
Or a face like white broth, strew'd o're with Curranco.
For a stirring Caper, or itching Dance; to
A smocke Knight.
King.
Villaine, must our disgrace mount thee?
Ful.
To what tends this?
Aler.
What meanes Count Machvile?
Enter Antonio below.
Au.
To be your King; fie on this circumstance,
My longing will not brooke it: say,
Will you obey us as your Kings and Queenes.
aside.
Ful.
My Lord Antonio.
Ant.
Confine your selves, the King is within hearing;
therefore make show of liking Machviles plot: let him
Mount high, his fall will bee the deeper: my life you
shall bee safe.
Au.
Say, are you agreed?
Ray.
If not weele force you to't:
Speake French man, are our forces i'th City?
Gio.
Wee Mounsier.
Aler., Ful., Pan.
We acknowledge you our King.
King.
More Traytors.
Mach.
Why then.
The brave stabs Raymond.
Ray.
Ha, from whence this suddaine Mischiefe?
Did you not see a hand arm'd with the fatall
Ruine of my life.
Gio.
None paw Signior.
Mach.
Ha, ha, ha; lay hold on those French Souldiers,
Away with them.
Exeunt guard with the French Colonels.
Ray.
Wast thy plot Machvile? goe laughing to thy grave.
Stabs him.
Au.
Alasse my Lord is wounded.
Ray.
Come hither French man, make a dying man
Bound to thy love; goe to Philippa,
Sickly as she is bring her unto me;
Or my flying soule will not depart in peace else:
Prethee make hast: yet stay, I have not breath
To pay thy labour.
Shrinke yee, you tweene-borne Atlasses, that beare
This my neere ruin'd world; have you not strength
That this Globe may feele a universall plague.
No, yet beare up, till with a vengefull eye
I out-stare day, and from the dogged sky
Plucke my impartiall Star: O, my blood
Is frozen in my veines—farewell revenge—me—dyes.
Aler.
They need no Law.
Ful.
Nor Hang-man.
Pan.
They Condemne, and execute without a Jury.
Enter Philippa mad.
Phi.
I come, I come; nay fly not, for by Hell
Ile plucke thee by the Beard, and drag thee thus
Out of thy fiery Cave. Ha, on yonder hill
Stand troopes of divills waiting for my soule:
But Ile deceive 'em, and instead of mine,
Send this same spotted Tygers.
Stabs Auristella.
Au.
Oh.
Phi.
So, whilst they to hell
Are posting with their prize, Ile steale to Heaven:
Wolfe dost thou grin? ha, is my Raymond dead?
So ho, so ho: come backe
You sutty Fiends that have my Raymonds soule,
And lay it downe, or I will force you do't:
No, won't you stir? by Stix Ile baite you for't:
Where is my Crowne? Philippa was a Queene,
Was she not ha? Why so, where is my Crowne:
O you have hid it—ha, wa'st thou
Over throwes the Table.
That rob'd Philippa of her Raymonds life?
Nay I will nip your wings, you shall not fly;
Ile plucke you by the guarded front: and thus
Sinke you to hell before me.
Stabs the Brave.
Bra.
Oh, oh.
Phi.
What downe, ho, ho, ho:
Laugh, laugh, you soules that fry in endlesse flames;
I come, I come; nay weepe not for I come:
Sleepe injur'd shadow, O death strikes dumbe.
dyes.
Au.
Machvile thy hand, I can't repent, farewell:
My burthened conscience sinkes me downe to hell.
Dyes.
Mach.
I cannot tarry long, farewell; weele meet
Where we shall never part: if here be any
My life has injur'd, let your charity
Forgive declining Machvile: I am sorry.
Ant.
His penitence workes strongly on my temper.
Of disguise, see falling Count: Antonio forgives thee.
Mach.
Antonio, O my shame,
Can you whom I have injur'd most pardon my guilt?
Give me thy hand yet nearer, this imbrace
Betray's thee to thy death: ha, ha, ha.
Stabs him.
So weepes the Ægyptian monster when it kills,
Wash't in a floud of teares; could'st ever thinke
Machviles repentance could come from his heart;
No, downe Colossus Author of my sin,
And beare the burthen mingled with thine owne,
Enter the King. Aur. Evad. old Tay.
To finish thy damnation.
King.
Accursed villaine, thou hast murther'd him
That holds not one small drop of loyall blood:
But what is worth thy life.
Evad.
O my brother.
Gio.
Give him some ayre, the wound cannot be mortall.
Au.
Alas he faints, O my Antonio:
Curst Machvile, may thy soule—
Ant.
Peace, peace Aurelia; be more mercifull:
Men are apt to censure, and will condemne
Thy passion, call it madnesse, and say thou
Wantst Religion: nay weepe not sweet,
For every one must dye: it was thy love,
For to deceive the Law, and give me life:
But death you see has reacht me, O, I dye;
Blood must have blood, so speakes the Law of Heaven:
Heaven, fate, and man, thus make Antonio bleed.
Dyes.
Mach.
Sleepe, sleepe great heart, thy vertue made me ill
Authors of vice, 'tis fit the vitious kill:
But yet forgive me, Oh, my great heart
Dissolves like snow, and lessons to a Rhume,
Cold as the envious blasts of Notherne wind:
World how I lov'd thee, 'twere a sin to boast;
Farewell, I now must leave thee; my life
Growes empty with my veines: I cannot stand, my breath
Is as my strength, weake; and both seaz'd by death:
Farewell ambition catching at a Crowne,
Death tript me up, and head-long threw me downe.
Dyes.
King.
So falls an exhalation from the sky,
And's never mist because unnaturall;
A birth begotten by incorporate ill:
Whose usher to the gazing World is wonder.
Enter Petruchio.
Alas good man, thou'rt come unto a sight
Will try thy temper, whether joy or griefe
Shall Conquer most within thee; joy lyes here
Scater'd in many heapes: these when they liv'd,
Threatned to teare this balsome from our brow,
And rob our Majesty of this Elyxar:
points to his Crowne.
I'st not my right? was not I heire to Spaine?
Pet.
You are our Prince, and may you live
Long to injoy your right.
King.
But now looke here, 'tis plaine griefe has a hand
Harder than joy; it presseth out such teares.
Nay rise.
Pet.
I doe beseech your Grace not to thinke me
Contriver of Antonio's scape from death,
'Twas my disloyall daughters breach of duty.
King.
That's long since pardon'd.
Pet.
You're still mercifull.
King.
Antonio was thy sonne, I sent for thee
Be mercyfull, and doe not curse the hand
That gave it him, though it deserve it.
Au.
O my griefes, are you not strong enough
To breake my heart? pray tell me, tell me true;
Can it be thought a sin? or is it so,
By my owne hand to ease my breast of woe?
King.
Alas poore Lady; rise, thy Father's here.
Pet.
Looke up Aurelia, ha, why doe you kneele?
Gio.
For a blessing.
Pet.
Why she is not Aurelia, doe not mocke me.
King.
But he is Sebastiano and your sonne;
Late by our hand made happy by injoying
The faire Evadne dead Antonio's sister:
For whose sake he became a Tayler,
And so long liv'd in that meane disguise.
Pet.
My joy had bin too great if he had liv'd,
The thrifty heaven's mingle our sweets with gall;
Least being glutted with excesse of good,
We should forget the giver. Rise Sebastiano
With thy happy choise, mayst thou live crown'd
With the injoyment of those benifits,
My prayers shall beg for: rise Aurelio,
And in some place blest with religious prayers,
Spend thy left Remnant.
Au.
You advise well: indeed it was a fault
So breake the bonds of duty, and of law;
But love, O Love; thou whose all conquering power,
Builds Castles on the hearts of easie maides,
And makes 'em strong unto attempt those dangers:
That but rehearst before, wo'd fright their soules
Into a Jelly. Brother, I must leave you;
And Father, when I send to you a note, that shall
Desire a yearely stipend to that holy place
My tyred feet has found to rest them in;
Pray confirme it.
To grace Antonio in the mournefull March
Unto his grave, which be where you thinke fit:
We need not be inter'd both in one Vault.
King.
Blest Virgin, thy desires I will performe.
Au.
Then I leave you, my prayers shall still attend you
As I hope yours shall accompany me.
Father your blessing, and ere long expect
To heare where I am entertain'd a Nunne
Brother, and Sister, to you both adue;
Antonio dead, Aurelia marries new.
Exit.
Pet.
Farewell girle, when I remember thee,
The Beades I drop shall be my teares.
Enter Vermine in a Cloake for the Prologue.
King.
She's to all virgins a true mirror;
They that wo'd behold true love, reflect on her:
There 'tis ingross'd.
3 Tay.
Great King, our Grace—
Old Tay.
The King is sad, you must not act.
3 Tay.
How? not act?
Shall not Vermine act?
Old Tay.
Yes you shall act, but not now;
The King is indispos'd.
3 Tay.
Well then, some other time; I Virmine
The King will act before the King.
Old.
Very good, pray make your Exit.
3 Tay.
Ile muster up all the Taylers in the
The King and Gio. whisper.
Towne, and so tickle their sides.
Old.
Nay thou'rt a right Virmine, goe be not
Troublesome.
Exit Virmine.
Gio.
Upon my truth and loyalty great King,
What they did was but fain'd, meerely words
Without a heart: 'twas by Antonio's Counsell.
King.
Thou art all truth: rise.
The Colonells kneele.
Omnes.
Long live King Philip in the calme of peace,
To exercise his Regall Clemency.
King.
Take up Antonio's body, and let the rest
Come trusty Tayler,
And to all Countries let swift Fame report,
King Philip made a Taylers house his Court.
Old.
Your grace much honours me.
King.
We can't enough pay thy alone deserts,
Kings may be poore, when Subjects are like thee,
So fruitfull in all loyall vertuous deeds:
March with the Body we'le performe all Rights,
Of sable Ceremony: that done,
We'le to our Court, since all our owne is won.
Exeunt.
FINIS.
| The Rebellion | |