 | The bloodie banqvet |  |
Act. 2.
Scene. 1.
Enter Clowne, and two Sheapheards.Shep. 1.
Come fellow Coridon, are the pits digg'd?
Clo.
I, and as deepe as an Vsurers conscience I warrant thee.
Shep. 2.
Mas and that's deepe enough, 'twill devoure a widdow and three Orphans
At a breakefast; soft, is this it?
Shep. 1.
I, I, this is it.
Nay for the deepenesse Ile be sworne; but come my
masters & lay these boughes crosse over: so, so, artificially, and
may all those horson Muttonmongers the wolves, hole here,
which eate our sheepe.
Shep. 2.
I wonder what wolves those are which eate our sheepe,
Whether they be he wolves or she wolves?
Clo.
They should be he wolves by their loving Mutton,
But by their greedinesse they should be she wolves.
For the belly of a she wolf is never satisfied till it be dam'd up.
Shep. 1.
Why are the she wolves worse than the he's?
Clo.
Why, is not the dam worse than the Devill pray?
Shep. 1.
You have answered me there indeed.
Clo.
Why man, if all the Earth were Parchment, the Sea Ink
Every sticke a pen, and every knave a Scrivener, they were not
all able to write downe the knaveries of she wolves.
Shep. 2.
A murren on them, hee's or shees, they sucke the blood of none but our Lambes.
Clo.
Oh alwayes the weakest goes to the wall, as for example,
knocke downe a sheepe and he tumbles forwards,
knocke downe a woman and she tumbles backewards.
Shep. 1.
Sirra, I wonder how many sorts of wolves there be.
Clo.
Marry just as many sorts as there be knaves in the Cards.
Shep. 2.
Why that's foure.
Clo.
First there are your Court wolves, and those be
Foule eaters and cleane drinkers.
Shep. 2.
And why cleane drinkers?
Clo.
Why because when they be drunke they commonly
cast up all and so make clensing weeke of't.
Shep. 2.
So sir, those, are cleane drinkers indeed.
Clo.
The next are your Country wolves, nothing choakes
them but plenty, they sing like Syrens when corne goes out
by ship-fulls, and dance after no tune but after an angell a
Bushell.
She. 1.
The halter take such cornecutters.
She. 2.
Are there no Citty Wolves?
Clo.
A rope on them, yes, huge routes, you shall have long
lane full of them; theyle feed upon any whore, carrion, theefe,
or any thing.
Have they such mawes?
Clo.
Mawes? why man, fidlers have no better stomackes,
I have knowne some of them eate up a Lord at three bits.
Shep. 2.
Three bonds you meane.
Clo.
A Knight is no body with them,
A young gentleman is swallowed whole like a Gudgeon.
Shep. 1.
I wonder that Gudgeon does not choake him.
Clo.
A Gudgeon choake him, if the throate of his conscience
be sound, he'le gulpe downe any thing; five of your silken
Gallants are swallowed easier than a Damaske Prune:
for our Citty wolves doe so roule my young prodigall first in
waxe, which is soft, till he looke like a guilded Pill, and then
so finely wrap him up in Sattin which is sleeke, that he goes
downe without chewing, and thereupon they are called slippery
Gallants.
Shep. 1.
Ile be no Gentleman for that tricke.
Clo.
The last is your Sea wolfe, a horrible ravener to, hee
has a belly as big as a ship, and devours as much silke at a gulp
as would serve forty dozen Taylors against a Christmas day
or a running at Tilt.
Shep. 1.
Well, well, now our trap is set what shall we doe
with the wolves we catch?
Clo.
Why those that are great ones and more than our matches
we'le let goe, and the lesser wolves we will hang: shall
it be soo?
Both.
I, I, each man to his stand.
Exeunt.
Scene. 2.
Enter Lapirus, solus.Lap.
Foule monster monger, who must live by that
Which is thy owne destruction: Why should men
Be natures bondslaves? Every creature else
Comes freely to the Table of the Earth;
That which for man alone doth all things beare
Scarce gives him his true dyet any where.
What spightfull winds breath here? that not a Tree
Spreads, forth a friendly arme? distressed Queene,
Like a proud mother, scornes to give you food: ha?
Thankes fate, I now defie thee starveling hunger,
Blest tree, foure lives grow in thy fruite, run tast it then,
Wise men serve first themselves then other men.
He falls in the Pit.
Oh me accursed and most miserable,
Helpe, helpe, some Angell lay a listning eare
To draw my cry up; none to lend helpe? oh
Then pine and dye.
Enter Clowne.
Clo.
A wolfe caught, a wolfe caught.
Lap.
Oh helpe, I am no wolfe good friend.
Clo.
No! What art thou then?
Lap.
A miserable wretch.
Clo.
An Vsurer?
Lap.
No, no.
Clo.
A Broaker then?
Lap.
Mocke not a man in woe, in a greene wound,
Poure Balsome and not Physicke.
Clo.
Snayles, he talkes like a Surgeon,
If you be one why doe you not helpe your selfe sir?
Lap.
I am no Surgeon friend, my name's Lapirus.
Clo.
How? a wolfe caught hoa—Lap what Lap, hoa!
Lap.
Lapirus is my name dost thou not know me?
Clo.
Yes, for a wolvish rascall that would have worried his owne Country.
Lap.
Torture me not, I prithee, I am that wretch; a villaine I was once; but I am now—
Clo.
The Devill in the Vault; you sirra, that betrayd your
Countrey, and the old King your Vncle, there lye till one
Wolfe devoure another, thou trecherous rascall.
Exit.
Lap.
Oh me most miserable and wretched creature!
I now doe finde there's a revenging fate
That doomes bad men to be unfortunate.
Scene. 3.
Enter Zenarchus, Tymethes, Amphridote, and Mazeres.Tym.
We are observ'd.
By whom?
Tym.
Mazeres followes us.
Amp.
Oh he's my protested servant, your sole Rivall.
Tym.
The devill he is.
Amp.
You'le make a hot Suitour of him anon?
Tym.
He may be hot in th'end, his good parts sue for't,
Zen.
He eyes us still.
Tym.
He does, you shall depart Lady;
Ile take my leave on purpose in his presence,
He's jealous, and a kisse runnes through his heart,
Ile make a thrust at him on your lip.
Maz.
Death! minute favours? every step a kisse?
I thinke they count how the day goes by kissing,
Tis past foure since I met them.
Tym.
I have hit him in the Gall in stead of th'blood,
He sheds distractions, which are worse than wounds.
Zen.
But sirra!
Maz.
Stayes he to proove my Rivall? curs'd be th'houre
Wherein I advis'd the King for his stay here,
I have set slaves t'entrap him, yet none prosper,
Ile lay no more my faith upon their workes
Th'are weake and loose, and like a rotten wall,
Leaning on them may hazard my owne fall.
Ile use a swifter course, cut off long journeys,
And tedious wayes that runne my hopes past breath,
Ile take the plaine roade way and hunt his death.
Exit.
Tym.
So so, he departs with a knit brow, no matter;
When his frowne begets earthquakes, happly then
'Twill shake me too: I shall stand firme till then.
Enter Roxano disguised.
Rox.
Masse here a walkes; I am far enough from my selfe,
I challenge all disguises except drinking
To hide me better; I give way to that,
For that indeed will thrust a white gentleman
Into a suite of mud, but whist I begin to be noted.
Zen.
I, he chang'd upon't.
Tym.
I mark'd him.
Rox.
Good your honours, your most comfortable charitable releefe
Tym.
Pox on thee.
Rox.
Ime bare enough already if it like your honour.
Tym.
He did!
Rox.
Pox on thee? your yong gallants love to give no Almes.
But that that will sticke by a man, thats one vertue in them:
He's not content to have my hat off, but he would have my hayre off too.
Thanke your good Lordship.
Tym.
No! was that his Action!
Amp.
It cal'd him Lord.
Zen.
Nay he's a Villaine.
Rox.
Good your honours! I have beene a man in my time.
Tym.
Why what art thou now?
Rox.
Kept goodly beasts, had 3. wives,
2. men uprising, 3. maides downe lying; oh good your kind honours.
Tym.
Sfoote, I am a begger my selfe.
Rox.
Perhaps your Lordship gets by it;
Good your sweete honour!
Tym.
This fellow would be whipt.
Rox.
Your Lordship has forgot since you were a Begger.
Tym.
Ile give thee somewhat for that jest in troath.
Rox.
But now you are in private, shut your purse, and open your eare sir.
Tym.
How?
Zen.
He's dealing his devotion, hinder him not.
Rox.
I am not literally a Begger, as Puritanicall as I appeare
The naked Truth is you are happily desired.
Tym.
Ha?
Rox.
Of the most
Sweete, delicate, divine, pleasing, ravishing creature
Tym.
Peace, peace, prithee peace.
Rox.
That ever made mans wishes perfect.
Tym.
Nay, say not so; I saw one creature lately
Exceeds al humane forme for true perfectio; this may be beauteous.
Rox.
This for white and red sir, her honour and my oath sue for that pardon,
You must not know her name nor see her face.
Tym.
How?
She rather chuseth death in her neglect
Than so to hazard life or lose respect.
Tym.
How shall I come at her?
Rox.
Let your will
Subscribe to the sure meanes already wrought,
She shall be safely pleas'd, you safely brought.
Tym.
Ha! and is this sheere faith, without any tricke in't?
Rox.
Let me perish in this office else; and I neede wish
No more damnation than to dye a Pander.
Tym.
Thou speakest well, when meete wee?
Rox.
Five is the fixed houre, upon to morrowes Evening.
Tym.
So, the place?
Rox.
Neere to the further lodge.
Tym.
Goe to then, it holds honest all the way?
Rox.
Else does there live no honestie but in Lawyers.
Tym.
Enough, five? and the furthest lodge? Ile meete thee.
Rox.
Enjoy the sweetest Treasure in a woman.
Exit.
Tym.
Alwayes excepting and the Tyrants Gem.
Zen.
What, have you done with the Begger?
Tym.
None that lives can say he has done with the Begger.
Zen.
Hold conference so long with such a fellow?
Tym.
How? are your wits perfect? if one should refuse
to talke with every begger, he might refuse brave Company
sometimes, gallants y faith.
Exeunt.
Scene. 4.
Enter the old King, Fidelio, and Amorpho.King.
The losse of my deare Queene afflicts me more
Then all Lapirus cursed trecheries: Inhumane monster!
Lap.
[in the pit.]
If you have humane formes to fit those voyces
And hearts that may be pierc'd with miseries groanes
Sent from a fainting Spirit; pitty a wretch,
A miserable man, Prisoner to darkenesse,
Your charitable strengths this way repaire,
And lift my flesh to the reviving Ayre.
Alas, some travelling man, by night out stript,
Missing his way into this danger slipt;
Set all our hands to helpe him; Come, good man,
They that sit high may make their ends below.
Lap.
Millions of thankes and prayses.
King.
Y'are heavie sir, who ere you be.
Lap.
There's weight within keepes downe my soule and me
King.
One full strength more makes our paines happie, poore strength helpes the poore.
So sir, y'are welcome to—Lapirus? oh.
(Lapi. fals downe.
We doe forgive thy Trechery, revive,
Tis pitty and not hate makes goodnesse thrive.
Lap.
Oh that astonishment had left me dead!
Shame, sitting on my brow, weighes downe my head:
Even thus the guilt of my abhorred sinne,
Flasht in my face when I beheld the Queene.
King.
Our Queene! oh where, Lapirus? tell the rest.
Lap.
Within this forrest with her Babes distrest.
King.
Which way? lead deare Lapirus.
Lap.
Follow me then.
King.
Not onely shall we quit thy soules offence
But give thy happy labour recompence.
Exeunt.
Dumbe shew.
Enter the old Queene weeping, with both her Jnfants, the one dead; she layes downe the other on a banke, and goes to bury the dead, expressing much griefe. Enter the former shepheards, walking by carelesly, at last they espie the child and strive for it, at last the Clowne gets it, and dandles it, expressing all signes of joy to them. Enter againe the Queene, she lookes for her Babe and finding it gone, wrings her hands; the Shepheards see her, then wisper together, then beckon to her; she joyfully runs to them, they returne her child, she points to her breasts, as meaning she should nurse it, they all give her money, the Clowne kisses the Babe and her, and so Exeunt severall wayes. Then enter Lapirus, the Old King, Amorpho, and Fidelio, they misse the Queene and so expressing great sorrow. Exeunt.
The miserable Queene expecting still
The Infants succour from Lapirus hand
Who wants himselfe; it chanc'd through extreame want
The youngest dyed, and this so neere his end
That had not Shepheards happily passed by
And on the Babe cast a compassionate eye,
And snatch't the child out of the armes of death
Where the sad mother left it, the same houre
Had beene his grave that gives his life new power.
Thus the distressed Queene to them unknowne
Was as a Nurse receiv'd unto her owne.
Whose sight Lapirus missing having led
The King her husband to this haplesse place,
They all depart in extreame height of griefe
To get unto their owne sad wants releefe.
Exit.
| The bloodie banqvet | |