 | The Vow Breaker. Or, The Faire Maide of Clifton |  |
Actus secundus
Scena Prima.
Enter Mortigue, Doysells, and the Frenchmen in Womens apparell with Pistols.Mor.
Omit this Doisells,
They now are healthing, and carrowsing deepe.
Now is our time to worke a stratagem,
Gaining these Trenches that oppresse the towne.
Thus as we are, we passe without suspect,
Nine Bona Robas nine stout Viragoes,
Nine manly lasses which will stand the squeake;
Jove went a wenching, as we goe to'th warrs;
If this exploit take roote, we build a strength
Do.
The scotch language I am perfect in:
Encaule your selves the enter on their guard
Leroy's the word, till then let no man stir
The second Leroy bids every man to kill.
Close, and obserue;
Enter Clifton, Bateman, Ioshua, Ball, Miles, Souldiers.
Clif.
Each man betake him to his instruments
Keepe safe this Port for 'tis the sole defence
To our new Trenches, and raised Bul-warks;
If any issue from the Towne give fire,
And the Alarum shalbe answerd quicke;
The French are subtle, and in various shapes,
Combine themselves, therefore to gaine the best,
Prevent the worst;
Ios.
And they be women may we not cease on'em for lawfull prize.
Clif.
To women, and children, be mercifull,
But trust none, the politicke Fox somtimes
Wrapps himselfe within the Lions skin,
So working prey upon the innocent Lambe,
These French are subtle Foxes.
Mi.
I thought so for a man may smell their footings
As farr as a fitchers;
Ios.
And they be Foxes we may smell'em out? for as it is in the
painted cloath? by fortune came a Fox where grew a pleasant
Vine I will no Grapes said the Fox, the fruit is none of mine.
Y. Ba.
Sir have you dispatched me?
Clif.
My Hollidam thats true?
VVhat sudaine busines of so maine import
Cal's thee from the warrs, where thou seest
Resolved spirits rate their lives at nought
Regardles of all miseries, for honours;
Thou a proficient in warrs Academ
Hast profited well; the first day an Ancient
In single duell taken? I tell thee Bateman
It has wonne a great impression in my Lord.
To fish for shaddowes and let goe the substance,
Thou know'st my meaning Bateman.
Y. Ba.
I conster it?
That your suspition deemes it to be love,
In sooth it needes not, such a constant rocke
My love is built on that it cannot fall.
I cannot fasten jelousie in my thoughts,
Knowing her loyaltie; great excuses
For my intended journey know I none:
And to frame any were but negatives?
Yet in my sleepes I have strange visions,
Which waking I cannot thrust from memory.
I doe beseech your licence, let me goe.
Clif.
My letters want but sealing, follow me
To the Generalls Tent.
Exeunt.
Mi.
Fellow Bateman farwell commend me to my old windmill
at Rudington, oh the Meoter dish, the Millers thumbe and
the maide behinde the Hopper? tell mistresse Vrsula I fight for
her sake, and will live as long as I can by when I can no longer
live, yet will love her in spight of her hart, in stead of nutmeggs,
and ginger, I send her the three bawbees I got at Dundee. I will
fly on her at my returne with the verses out of new Hero, and
Leander, oh Vrsula, Vrsula pity me with a dildo, dildo,
dillory?
Ba.
Commend me to the Bells of St. Maries, and tell'em
my Chops water to chime all in?
Ios.
As it is in the painted cloath, in morning still when thou
doost rise see that in minde thou have to spend the day that
doth ensue as bed might be thy Grave; commend me to my
learned brother Spritchall the Cobler of Notingham brig? and
bid him looke up, and give me a coale, wishing him good
health, as my cat, and I was at the making hereof?
Y. Ba.
I will be mindfull of you all farewell.
Mor.
Now is the time make your appearance?
Mi.
Shoote shoote.
Doy.
An the bred an gad man speare the bonny lasses.
Downe with the bonny Bels?
Ios.
Have some compunction th'are the weaker Vessels for
as it is in the painted cloath, be meeke, and gentle, and thy selfe
shall finde a quiet conscience, and a tranquill minde.
Mi.
By'th masse a prety boote halling, hansome pagies each
one take one, and examine the prickers?
Ios.
Thy counsels smels of piety? and thus I begin the conversion
of a sinner!—um—she Kisses well verily againe I
will edifie on your lips—are you of the Family of Love
sister—ha—
Mor.
An the beanes of me ise a pure lurden?
Mi.
And what are you prety morsell.
Doy.
An the dele an the crag ise a Lardes wife ganging to
seeke my Lourden;
M.
And you are ganging to your Lurden, that your Lurden
may catch you by the crag, and claw you are the weame, till
your guts garr haggergath, haggergath.
Ios.
VVill you be contented to leave the wicked, and live
among the familists, exercising your body in the brether-hoods
cause?
Mor.
An the Lard nare thee with an my bare bones.
Ios.
Kisse againe then—in sincerity she Kisses open mouthed
like a zealous sister—
Bal.
And you can wash, and scoure, and helpe to launder
the campe, and dresse the booties we steale, and at night be content
to Kennell with me in straw.
Sol.
I by Saint Andrew?
Ios.
Let us congregate our selves, and ponder on their miseries.
Doy.
Now is the time each man draw, and fight.
Shoote, and Alarum.
Alarums, the French beate of, place themselves on the Walls hanging out a head, Enter Clifton, Souldiers.
Clif.
VVell fought my harts: though we have lost one man
Whose head they basely pearch upon the Walls.
Base minded Doysels cowardly Mortigue
Though all advantages in warr are lawfull
Frenchifi'd truls, to scould us from our Trenches
But not to beate us? come either of you single,
And fight with Clifton, if not one, come both,
And by my Countries honour; no man heere
Shall dare to touch you but this arme of mine.
Doy.
Vex not thy selfe old man, tis but one head
VVe came for more, but rest suffiz'd with this.
Clif.
And for that one a thousand dastard French
Shall deerely pay, Count I shall meete thee?
Mor.
Clifton thou maist!
Clif.
By my Hollidam; our meeting will seeme rough our
parting faire? make this thy quarrell, I pronounce thy Queene
defective in beauty, vertues, honours, unto my mistris, Englands
royall Besse?
Mor.
Traitor thou lyest?
Clif.
Have I sturd thy bloud?
Mor.
VVith such an overture, but thy barbarous head
nothing can calme it?
Clif.
VVhen next we meete we'le try it?
Each man unto his charge, for one mans head
A thousand Frenchmen shall be slaughtered.
Ex. Omnes.
Enter Vrsula.
Vrs.
Good VVives, VVidowes, and young wenches, pardon
me, for I am touched in conscience to raile on my owne sexe,
I blame not those mysogynists that say women are froward inconstant,
and what not; I protest I begin to mistrust mine owne
thoughts, I'am quite out of love with all womens goodnes?
fie upon us weather-cocks, of all things sublunary the
worst of creatures, we painted sepulchers, rotten braveries,
silly Ciphers untill mens figures supply us, and yet we cannot
render 'em a constant minute; all this is manifest in my new
Bride, she that yesterday gave faith to one, the next day married
another; and now married shees sicke of the sullens,
shee wants youth to enflame, and give satietie a fresh
appetite; fie upon us Moone Calves, and created Fooles
Enter young Bateman.
Y. Ba.
I weare that visage formerly I did,
Six Moones has not so metamorphos'd me,
But that I may be knowne? all my friends;
My familiar sociates, and acquaintance
Carelessely passe me with a heavy glance
As if I were some rioter, or prodigall
VVho having ship wrackt reputation
After an act of banquerout, compounds
With debitor, and creditour; others
Shake me by'th hand, but with such lenity
As if I burnt them? or that I from the warrs
Had brought home some diseases, as Killing
As the Plague, or more infectious.
My father whether for joy or sorrow,
As teares be answerable to both passions,
But he wep'd, cride welcome home, and sight,
As if some drops of bloud fell from his hart
Heaven has a hand in all things; if that
My Nan be well, we will dispense with greifes,
Of lower kindes Kind, cozen Vrsula.
Musique.
Vrs.
Y'are welcome home sir.
Y. Ba.
How fares my sweetest Nan?
Vrs.
Sooth badly, she has beene, Planet-strucke e're since
you went? she fell into a Lethargy since noone, a kind of
qualme came o're her stomacke like a Crampe or a Conuulsion?
Y. Ba.
The meaning of this Musique?
Vrs.
VVe had a VVedding to day, and the young fry tickle
trench-more.
Jervis, and Nan are in the Window.
Y. Ba.
A VVedding, and here this day.
Blesse me what prodigious Object
Is yond, that blasts mine eies, and like a theife,
Steales my understanding! certes tis shee.
Is it not speake Vrsula?
I know not, for had she as many bodies as harts, she might
be here, and yonder too.
Y. Ba.
Now by my life.
Vrs.
Nay sweare not; if you have any ill language to spare
I'le send my Cozen to you presently.
Exeunt.
Y. Ba.
Strange feares assaile my senses; and begins
Conflicts of despaires, doubts, and feares,
And but I have a resolution fixt
On her fidelity; this frontispice
And other entertainments might confirme
Former presages.
Enter Anne, Vrsula.
An.
VVho ist would speake with me?
Vrs.
One that may be jealous though he weares no yellow.
Y. Ba.
Her sight like to a cordiall has expell'd
All former grosse suggestions, me thinkes.
I tast my happines e're I touch it.
An.
Beshrew thy hart for this.
Vrs.
Beshrew your owne false, if their be ill tis of your owne
begetting i'le provide Cocke-brothes, and caudles for your old
Cock-sparow.
Exeunt.
Y. Ba.
Shees dumbe with joy, and I like to a man
Intranc'd with joyes un-utterable, cannot speake?
But I have lost my selfe, I am awake,
And see a substance more then dreamers doe,
Thus in the armes of love I doe enfould thee.
An.
I doe not know you—touch me not?
Y. ba.
I wonder then how I dare know my selfe,
When thou forget'st me? I had thought
Had I ben sullide with the sooty Moore,
Or tan'd with heate like some Egiptian slave,
Or spoted like the Persian Leopardes,
Or in the worst forme can be termn'd,
Or imagin'd, yet thou coulds have knowne me,
I am thy Bateman Nan!
An.
If you be Bateman;
Least he indite you?
Y. ba.
If he should, yet if thou stand the judge
I know thou wilt acquit me of the crime?
But thou art pleasant, and like to a tender nurse
Heightens my infant joyes before it comes,
Be not so strange, this nicety in you,
Has not beene usuall.
An.
It must be now for I am married.
Y. ba.
I know thou art, to me my fairest Nan.
Our vowes were made to Heaven, and on Earth
They must be ratifide, in part they are
By giving of a pledge, a peice of Gold.
Which when we broke, joyntly then we swore
Alive or dead for to enjoy each other,
And so we will spight of thy fathers frownes.
An.
You talke idely sir; these sparks of love
That were twixt you, and I, are quite extinct
Pacifie your selfe, you may speede better,
Youle show much wit, and judgment if you doe?
Y. ba.
She floutes me.
An.
If you will be wise, and live one yeere a batchelour tis ten
to one thats odds, I bury my husband, e're I weare out my
wedding Ring.
Y. ba.
Ha! a Ring, and on the right finger two.
Thou plaist the cruell murtherer of my joyes
And like the deadly bullet from a Gun,
Thy meaning kills me, e're thy words gets vent.
Whose Ring is that?
An.
My Husbands.
Y. ba.
And art thou married!
An.
I am?
Y. ba.
When?
An.
This Day?
Y. ba.
Accursed Day to whom?
An.
To wealthy German?
Y. ba.
To wealthy misery?
Th'unusuall gestures of my mornefull friends
I now perceive was thine; false woman
As subtle in deceit as thy first grandam,
She but deceiv'd her selfe, deceiving man
As thou her jmpe of subtilty has done.
Strengthen me you ever Hallowed Powers,
Guard me with patience that I may not curse,
Because I lov'd her; be assured this,
Alive or dead thy promise thou shall keepe
I must, and will enjoy thee?
An.
And may I tell you if youle stay my husbands Funerall.
I'le promise you i'le mourne, and marry all in a month.
Y. ba.
Ah monstrous; she plaies with my disasters
As boyes with bubbles blowne up into aire,
You that have care of innocents be my guard
Least I commit some outrage on my selfe.
For such an overture, and flood of woes
Surroundes me; that they almost droun'd
My understanding; thy perivries shall be writ
With pens of Diamonds upon Leaves of steele,
And kept as statutes are to show the world.
You constant Lovers that have truely lov'd
Without foule thoughts or lustfull appetites,
Come waile with me, and when your swelling brests
Growes big with curses, come sit downe, and sigh
Such an inconstant faire on I have met
Whose deeds I shame to nominate, yet she
Sham'd not to doe them.
An.
Prety passion this ha, ha, ha?
Y. ba.
Take thy good night of goodnes; this night
Thy bridall-night take leave of sacred vertue?
Never thinke for to be honest more,
Never keepe promise, for thou now maist sweare
To any, thou never mean'st to doe?
Hold swelling heart, for thou art tumbling downe
A hill of desperation; darke thoughts
Alive or dead, I will enjoy thee yet.
I have not curs'd thee yet, remember that;
And when th'ast staind thy innocent sheetes with lust,
And with saciety fild thy empty veines,
Weari'd the night with wanton dalliances,
More prime then Goates, or Monkeys in their prides;
Call then to minde how pleasant this had bene
Had it not bene adulterate; for German
(Is not thy husband; tis Bateman is the best.
I have not curs'd thee yet remember that)
I'le muster up the forces of a man,
To quench the rising flames that harbor here
And if I can forget thee by my hopes I will
And never curse the Auth'resse of my ill.
I have not curs'd thee yet! now remember
Alive or dead tis I that must enjoy thee.
Exeunt.
Enter Vrsula.
Urs.
By my virginity the Groome cryes to bed, night goes
to Goast, how now another Niobe turn'd to stone, blesse me
has the Conjurer bene here.
Y. Ba.
Alive or dead I must, and will enjoy thee,
It was my promise? I cannot chuse but weepe.
I have not curs'd thee yet, remember that.
Vrs.
Hey day what inundations are here, will you come away,
and the Groome should geld himselfe for anger there would be
fine sport.
An.
I have lost my selfe, and know not where I am!
Enter Boote.
Bo.
Come, come, I have daunc'd till every joynt about me
growes stiffe but that which should be! to bed wench, the
groome he's out-gone thee, he's warming the sheetes the first
night I faith.
An.
To bed! oh heavens, would it were to my grave
So I might never here of my misdeedes
Alive or dead I must, and will enjoy thee
How like the deadly towling of a Bell
A peale of sadd presages were his words.
Bo.
Ha, weeping; this is not customary on bridall-nights,
Neece who was with your Cuz too night?
Vrs.
Vncle there was a certaine man
Bo.
I, I, but where is that certaine man
Vrs.
There is the woman, but the certaine man is gon
An.
A certaine man indeede, for whom I now
Could weepe a Sea, to wash out my pollutions?
Bo.
But nimble Chaps, tongue Trotter, Neats-Toung Mr s Magpy
What was this certaine man called
Vrs.
With reverence Vncle his name was Bateman?
Bo.
An undermining Knave, I will indite him,
For daring to set foote upon my ground?
This day his father hath arrested me
Vpon an action of a thousand poundes
A precontract betwixt his son, and thee
To bed my wench, Bateman shall surely finde
Me master of my words, when his proves winde.
Ex. Omnes.
Enter Mortigue meeting Clifton.
Clif.
Thou keepst thy promise Mortigue.
Mor.
In all things as befits a man of worth
Thou hast abus'd my princely mistris name
Sully'd her royalties with infamies,
And from thy throat, as from a Serpents chaps.
Belch'd poysons 'gainst the Dowager of France;
To prove these false I made this sally forth
Onely to combate thee.
Clif.
By my Hollidam,
I'me glad Ive wak'd thy temper!
The end still finds it selfe in every act,
And so shalt thou in thy presumptuous braves?
The honour of my mistris makes me young
Her name shootes majesty into my lookes,
Which thou shalt feele to thunder on thy Helme,
Guard thee Frenchman, i'me sure thou canst not fly;
Bravely i'le kill thee, or else bravely dy.
Th'art my prisoner Doysells.
Fight, Clifton disarmes him, Enter Grey, Arguile, Souldiers.
Mor.
Through chance of warre I am.
Arg.
Hew him in peeces.
Clif.
By my Hollidam?
My life shall stand betweene him, and danger.
He's my prisoner, and by the Law of Armes,
Yeilding himselfe a Captive to our mercy,
His life is ransomable; let our Generall
Decree his ransome, and after dispose of him.
Gr.
Noble Clifton his ransome is thine owne,
Dispose of him as thou pleasest.
Clif.
By my Hollidam, and will?
There take thy Armes, returne backe to Leith
With our best convoy; I tell thee Mortigue
My hatred is not capitall, though honour,
And warrs necessity made me storme;
When to these walls thou seest my white coates come
With scaling ladders to assault the Towne
Be mercifull as I have bin to thee,
This is all Cliftons ransome.
Mor.
I shall report thee noble!
Gr.
Thanks noble Clifton,
Thou still ad'st honour to thy Countries fame,
Make scaling Ladders, for we straight intend,
By heavens assistance to mount these walls,
Courage brave spirits, every act finds end,
Weele teach the Frenchman keepe within his bounds
Or send him home full of heroicke wounds
Exeunt Omnes.
Young Bateman ins shirt, a halter about his necke.
Y. Ba.
It tis resolv'd! life is too burthensome,
All insurrections pale Death has made.
It is my terrour that I live to thinke
I beare a life that is offensive to me.
Pale monster in thy meagerest aspect
Come, and affront me; fill thy unpauncht nerves
With my harts bloud; till with the overture
Thy never satisfied maw be sated?
But cowardly monster thou approchest none
But those that fly thee, and like to greatnes
Wouldst be so elivated for doing good,
That of thy selfe thou never didst intend.
Poore Snakes that are in worldly sorrowes sowrst
Cannot participate thy Ebon Dart.
Tis said thou art not partiall, and dost winde
The Prince, the begger, and the potentate
All in one mould; but they doe falsifie
That say thou art so tiranously just,
For I have sought thee through the unpend groves,
The shady cells where melancholly walkes,
And eccho-like thou answerst me with Death,
But darst not show thy face; the worlds monarch
In three fits of an Ague di'd. Some flyes,
Some silly gnats can kill! let me consume
then maist thou brag thy conquest, that thou slewst
What neyther love nor hatred could destroy.
Since thou disdainst me, I disdaine thy power,
There be a thousand waies to cozen Death
Behold a Tree just at her doore a fruitlesse Tree
That has in autumne cast her leavy boughs
Sorry to show such fruit as she produces.
The night seemes silent, sleepe charmes the house,
And now the periurd woman is a topping,
I'le clime as high as she, yet i'le not rest,
My airy ghoast shall find her where she lyes,
And to her face divulge her perjuries.
Night be auspicious, draw thy sable weedes,
One twich will do't, and then I shall be wed
As firme unto my grave, as to her bed.
Falls, hangs, Enter old Bateman ins shirt, & Torch.
O. Ba.
I've miss'd my boy out of his bed to night
Heavens grant that he be well, for in his eyes
Sad discontentment sits! till yesterday
I never saw him so propense to sorrow.
Nor deepely touch'd with distemperature,
When I began to tell him of his mistris
Which I in violence of wordes branded
With damned perjury; as Heaven knowes
She has consum'd her goodnes; then would he
Sit by, and sigh, and with salt teares trilling
Downe his cheekes, entreat me not to name her,
Curse her I must not! then would he steale to bed,
As full of mournfull sorrowes as a sinner.
Tis almost morne and I suspect him here
Hovering about this house! oft would he say
He woo'd her underneath a Plume-Tree,
And underneath that Tree he vow'd to sit,
And tell his sorrowes to the gummy boughes
Though she disdaind to here them? protect me!
Good Angells guard me, what heavy sight is this
That like a sullen sadnes reaves my sense,
Prove false mine eies that this may prove untrue?
Better you never had seene then to see this.
Leave your slimy cesternes, and drop out;
Tis he, tis he, would I could tell a ly
The falsest one that e're was tould by man
That this might prove untrue; but tis in vaine
To darke the Sunne, or wrastle 'gainst the truth.
Murtherers looke out, i'le rowze the thunderer,
To rowze you from your sleepes! false feinds come out,
And see a deede, the day wilbe asham'd of
Caus'd by your perjuries.
Whoes that which calls
Boote, Anne, Vrsula, above.
With horrid terrour, and such affrightments
As when skath fires devast our vilages,
O. Ba.
Looke this way monster see thou adultresse
Behold the miserablest Map of woe
That ever father mourn'd for; my poore boy
Hard-harted fate that brought thee to this end,
Hated Vipers they that were the causers,
Bo.
How darst thou Bateman come upon my ground
O. Ba.
Curs'd be thy ground, and curs'd be all trees
That brings forth such a bortive fruit as this.
Bo.
Ha, ha, has—he hang'd himselfe, and sav'd justice a labor!
An.
I never look'd for better end of him, he had a malevolent
aspect in his lookes, ha, ha, ha!
O. Ba.
Laughst thou Crocadile?
Are miseries lamented with contempts?
The bookes of fate are not so closely shut,
But they may open, and record the scornes
Dwelling in every Region of thy face?
A fixt decree may be set downe for thine,
And thou maist Swan-like sing a Funerall O'de,
Who then shall laugh at thee?
Bo.
I laugh to see, how well sorrow becomes thee.
O. Ba.
Such dire becomings maist thou never want,
Thou that wert once the Jewell of these eies,
Looke here, and see the ruines of pale death.
How soone a Gorgeous Pallace is suncke downe;
Though he has surfetted upon this peece
He has not tane the colour of his cheeke,
Nature contests with death, and will out-doe him;
Canst not thou spare one teare to balme him in,
Nor lend a sigh as sorry for his fall?
If not to day i'le come againe to morrow,
So thou wilt shed two teares, and one poore sigh,
Then gentle Charon will assigne him wafftage;
Thy greifes are violent, and worke within
Tis a fowle signe of an unpersant hart
Since none of you will weepe, i'le weepe alone
Till Niobe like my teares convert to stone.
An.
Had you disciplind your sonne in's youth
You might then have prevented your teares?
Cause he was bad, and I did shun his evils,
Must I be held the cause'res of his ils?
Must my vertues beget his perversnes,
Or my obedience breede his shamefull death,
If the World ballance me uprightly just
I care not then which way you turne the Scales;
O. Ba.
Worse then the worst that ever could be nam'd.
An.
My best counsell is that you bury him as the custome of
the Country is, and drive a stacke through him; so perhaps I
that had no quietnes with him whil'st he liv'd, may sleepe in
peace now he's dead.
O. Bat.
I will not curse thee, t'was my boyes request
Such deedes as these sinke not in oblivion,
The justnes of my cause I leave to Heaven.
Maist thou live mother of many children,
And may they prosper better then did mine.
Come poore boy these armes have borne thee oft
I'le have thy picture hung up in my Chamber,
And when I want thee, I will weepe to that
Deaths Leaden Plummets draw thine eielids downe,
Since none will sing sadd obsequies but I,
I'le call the Linnet, Red-brest, and the Throsle,
The Nightingale shall beare the burthen two
For she is exquisite in tragicke notes,
Weele have a Funerall hymne, and o're thy herse,
This womans perjuiries i'le pen in verse.
Enter
An.
How now cozen weeping?
Vrs.
Troth Cozen,
Though griefes of lower kinds assaile me not,
I never was so touch'd unto the hart,
Mine eies so flexible are to melt in teares
I cannot stop 'em; I shall be still affraid
For feare his Ghost haunte me! I wonder much,
You could forbeare from passionating.
An.
Affraid on's Ghost, as much as of a picture painted o'th
wall! thats just like we fooles that rub our shins 'gainst the
bed posts in our dreames, and then sweare the faries, pinchd us?
he swore he would have me quicke or dead. Let him ly still in's
grave I will in my bed, and let consequents prove the rest?
Bo.
Ghosts Hobgoblins, Will with wispe, or Dicke a Tues-day.
Thy husband wench this morne journyes to New-Castle
And hardly will returne these twelve Moones,
Let's feast with him, for Ghosts, and such like toyes
Leave them to foolish dotards, girles, and boyes.
Exeunt Omnes.
| The Vow Breaker. Or, The Faire Maide of Clifton | |