 | Dick of Devonshire |  |
Act: 5.
Sce: 1.
Ent: Teniente & Henrico.Ten:
The lords are not yet risen, lett vs walke, & talke;
were not you better yeild to marry her
then yeild to suffer death? know you ye Law?
Hen:
Law? yes; ye Spiders Cobweb, out of wc h great flyes breake,
& in wc h ye litle are hangd; the Tarriers, snapsauce,
limetwiggs, weavers shottle, & blankettes in wc h fooles
& wrangling Coxcombes are tossd; doe I know't now, or no?
Ten:
If of ye rape she accuse you, tis in her choice
to have you marry her, or to have you hangd.
H:
Hangd, hangd, by any meanes; marry her? had I
the king of Spaines .7. kingdomes, Gallicia,
Navarre, ye [.3.] [.2.] Castiles, Leon, Arragon, Valentia,
Granada & Portugall to make vp .8.
I'de lose them all to be rid of such a piece of flesh.
Ten:
How, such a piece of flesh? why she has limbes
made out of wax.
Hen:
Then have her to some faire
& shew her for money.
Ten:
Is she not sweet Complexiond?
H:
As most Ladyes are yt studye painting.
Ten:
What meate will downe yor throat, when you scorne pheasant,
partridge, Woodcocke & Coney? would I had such a dish!
H:
Woodcocke & Coney take to you, my Don Teniente, Ile none;
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against ye wench; (albeit I might find better talke, considering
what ladder I stand vpon) Ile tell you Signior what kind
of wife I must have, or none.
Ten:
pray let me see her picture.
Hen:
draw then this Curtaine;
give me a Wife that's sound of wind & limbe,
whose teeth can tell her Age, whose [breath] hand nere felt
a touch lascivious, whose eyes are balls
not tossd by her to any but to me,
whose breath stinkes not of sweetmeates, whose lipps kisse
onely themselves, & mine; whose tongue nere lay
at signe of the Bell; She must not be a scold,
no, nor a foole, to be in love wt h Bables;
no, nor too wise, to thinke [of] I nere saile true;
But when she steares ye rudder I'de not have
her belly a Drum, such as they weave pointes on;
vnles they be taggd wt h vertue; nor would I have
her white round breasts .2. sucking bottles to nurse
any Bastards at them.
Ten:
I beleive you would not.
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I would not have her tall, because I love not
to dance about a May pole; nor too low,
(litle Clockes goe seldome true;) nor, sir, too fatt,
(slug shipps can keepe no pace) no, nor too leane,
to read Anatomy lectures ore her Carcas;
nor would I have my wife exceeding faire,
for then she's liquorish meate; & it would mad me
to see whore masters teeth water at her;
Red haird, by no meanes, though she would yeild money
to sell her to some Iew for poyson: no,
my wife shalbe a Globe terrestriall,
moving vpon no Axeltree but mine;
wc h Globe when I turne round, what land soever
I touch my wife is wt h me, still I'me at home;.
Ten:
But where will you find such a Wife on earth?
Hen:
No; such a Wife in the Moone for me does tarry,
If none such shine here, I wt h none will marry.
Ten:
ye lords are come.
H:
I care neyther for Lords nor Ladies.
Ent: ye Nobles as before, fernando, Manuell, Clarke Iaylor.
Mac:
Where are these gentlemen? sett 'em both to a Barre,
& opposite face to face; A Confrontation
may perhaps daunt th'offender, & draw from him
more then he'de vtter; you accuse yor Brother
as murtherer of yor father; where's yor proofe?
Hen:
first call my fathers man in.
Clark:
what's his name?
H:
Buzzano.
Cla:
Call Buzzano in.
Buz:
here I am here.
Ent: Buz:
Cl:
Stand out; whither goe you?
Buz:
to stand out.
Cla:
stand there.
Mac:
Now, what can he say?
Hen:
first, my Lords, heare mee;
my brother & I lying in one Bed together,
& he iust vnder vs.
Buz:
In my flea bitten Trundlebed.
Cl:
peace, sirra.
Hen:
about midnight I awaking
& this Buzzano too, my Brother in his sleepe
thus cryde out; oh twas I that murtherd him,
this hand that killd him.
Gyr:
heard you this, sirra?
Buz:
As sure as I heare you now.
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And you'le be sworne twas he yt so cryde out?
Buz:
If I were going to be hangd Ide sweare.
Clar:
forbeare ye Court.
Exit Buzzano.
Mac:
All this is but prsumption; if this be all
the shott you make against him, yor bullets sticke
in a mud wall, or if they meete resistance
they backe rebound & fly in yor owne face.
Med:
Bring yor best forces vp, for these are weake ones.
Hen:
Then here I throw my Glove, & challenge him
to make this good vpon him; That at comming home
he first told me my father dyed in france;
then, some houre after yt he was not dead,
but that he left him [at] [in] Lorraine [in] at Nancy;
then at Chaalons in Burgundy, & lastly,
he said to Don fernando he was in Paris.
fer:
He did indeed.
Mac:
What then?
Hen:
Then, when in's Chamber we were going to bed,
he suddainely lookd wild, catchd me by the hands,
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& troubled conscience, he Confessed he killd him,
nay swore he basely murtherd him.
Mac:
what say you to this?
Alq:
Now he comes close vp to you.
Man:
he is my murtherer,
for I am none, so lett my Innocence guard me;
I never spake wt h a distracted voice,
nere fell to him, on my knees; spake of no father,
no murther'd father: he's alive as I am,
& some foule Divell stands at yt fellowes elbow
Iogging him to this mischiefe; the Villaine belyes me,
and on my knees, my lords, I beg that I
& my white Innocence may tread yt path
beaten out before vs by that man, my Brother;
Com̄and a Case of Rapiers to be sent for,
& lett me meete his daring; I know him valiant,
but I am doubly armd, both wt h a Courage
fiery as his can be, & wt h a Cause
that spitts his accusation full in the face.
Mac:
The Combate in this Case cannot be granted,
& here's ye reason: when a man accuses
a frend, much [fo] more a brother, for a fact
so foule as murther, (murther of a father)
the Law leapes straight way to ye Challenger,
to take his part; Say he yt does accuse
should be decrepitt, lame & weake, or sickly,
the other strong & lusty; thinke you a kingdome
will hazard so a Subiect, when ye quarrell
is for a kingdomes right? if y'are so valiant
you then must call ye law into the feild,
but not ye man.
Man:
I have done, let law proceed.
Mac:
This cannot serve yor turne; say he does belye you,
he stakes against yor body his owne soule:
Say there is no such murther, yet ye Law
fastens on you; for any man accusd
for killing of his father may be rackd
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Man:
I cannot, must not, will not.
Mac:
Iaylor, take & prpare him for ye racke.
wele see it done here.
Hen:
you are righteous Iudges.
Man:
Oh villaine, villaine, Villaine.
Exit [cū] wt h ye Iaylor.
Med:
Where's the wrongd Lady?
Alq:
stand you still at ye Barre.
you are now another man sir, yor scale turnes.
fernando fetches in Eleonora.
Mac:
Looke on ye Prisoner, doe you know him Lady?
Eleo:
would I had nere had cause to say I know him!
Mac:
Of what doe you accuse him?
Eleo:
As ye murtherer
both of my name & honor; In ye hurry,
when ye Citty (they said) was ready to be taken,
I being betrothd to this yong Gentleman,
my father brought me to his fathers house,
telling me there dwelt safety, there dwelt villany,
Treason, lust, basenes; for this godlesse man
(ye storme being ore), came in & forcd from me
the Iewell of my Virgen honor.
Hen:
false.
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I would not have thee thinke (thou graceles wretch)
she, being contracted to thee, loving thee,
loving thee far more dearely then her selfe,
would wound her vertue soe, so blott her fame,
& bring a scandall on my house & me
were not ye fact most true.
Hen:
most false, by all yt ever man can sweare by;
we falling out, I told her once I nere
would marry her & so she workes this mischiefe.
Gyr:
you here stand chargd for ravishing her,
& [she] you must marry her, or she may have yor life.
Mac:
Lady, what say you? wc h had you rather have,? his life or him?
Eleo:
I am not cruell; pay me my first Bond
of mariage, wc h you seald to, & I free you,
& shall wt h Ioy run flying to yor armes.
All:
Law you?
Mac:
That's easy enough.
Hen:
Rackes, Gibbettes, wheeles make sausages of my flesh first,
Ile be ty'd to no mans Strumpet.
Alq:
Then you must looke to dye.
Mac:
Lady, wt hdraw.
Hen:
well if I doe, somebody shall packe.
El:
Oh me vnfortunate Creature! Exit.
Ent: Manuell to be rackt, Iaylor, & Officers.
Med:
Don Manuell Gusman, ere you tast ye tortures,
wc h you are sure to feele, will you confesse
this murther of yor father?
Man:
Pray give me privacy a litle wt h my Brother.
All.
take it.
Man:
Oh brother, yor owne Conscience knowes you wrong me,
Ile rather suffer on ye Gallow Tree
then thus be torne in peeces; Canst thou see mee
thus worryed amongst hangmen? deare Henrico,
for heavens sake, for thy owne sake pitty me.
All.
What sayes he!
Hen:
Cunning, cunning, cunning Traytor!
In my eare he confesses all againe, & prayes me
to speake to you.
Mac:
will you openly confesse?
Man:
No, no, I cannot; Caytiffe I spake not soe;
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a guilt it knowes not; Ile not so dishonor
my father, nor my Ancestor s before me,
nor my posterity wt h such an Earthquake,
to shake our noble house.
Mac:
Give him ye Law, then.
Man:
Ile meete a Thousand deaths first,
Hen:
Plucke, & plucke home, for he's a murtherous Villaine.
Man:
Thou worse, a Divell.
Mac:
Racke him.
Man:
Oh stay, for heavens sake spread yor mercy,
I doe confesse ye murther, I killd my father.
All:
Take him off.
Man:
This hand stabbd him.
Mac:
Where?
Man:
Neere St. Germains in Paris, in a darke night, & then I fled.
Mac:
Thy owne tongue is thy Iudge, take him away,
to morrow looke to dye; send him a Confessor.
Iay:
Ile have a holy care of him.
Exit Manuell led by ye Iaylor.
Hen:
Who's now my lords ye Villaine?
Ent: Eleonora & Buzzano.
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Oh Iustice, here's a witnesse of my Rape.
Mac:
Did you see't sirra?
Buz:
See't, no sir, would I had;
but when she was in labour, I heard her cry out helpe, helpe;
& ye Gamboll being ended, she came in like a mad woman,
ruffled & Crumpled, her haire about her eares;
& he all vnbrac'd, sweating as if he had bene thrashing:
& afterwards he told me, my lords, yt he had downe didd'led her.
Hen:
I now am lost indeed, & on my knee
beg pardon of yt goodnes, that pure Temple
wc h my base lust prophand; & will make good
my wrongs to her by mariage.
Mac:
what say you, Lady?
El:
He spurnd my mercy when it flew to him,
& courted him to kisse it; therefore now
Ile have his life.
Fer:
That life, so had, redeemes
thine & thy fathers infamy; Iustice, my Lords.
Hen:
Cruell Creature.
Mac:
Take him away, & lead him to his brother,
you both must dye next morning.
Hen:
I deserve it,
And so that Slave too, yt betrayd his Master.
Buz:
Why should not I betray my Master, when he betrayed his Mistris?
Cl:
Gett you gone sirra.
Exeunt Henrico, & Buzzano.
Mac:
you are dismissd faire Lady; you shall have Law, yor Ravisher shall dye.
El:
Oh that my life from death could sett him free.
Exit.
Mac:
Pray, Don Fernando, follow her, & soften
her heart to pitty ye poore gentleman,
the Crime is not so Capitall.
Fer:
Ile doe my best.
Exit:
Mac:
That such a noble Spanyard as Don Pedro
should be so cursd in's Children!
Ent: Buzzano, don Pedro, fernando & Elionora.
Buz:
He's come, he's come, my Lord, Don Pedro
Gusman, is still alive; see, see.
Mac:
Let vs descend to meet a happinesse crownes all or expectations.
Ped:
Whilst I meet a Thunder strikes me dead; oh poore wrongd Lady;
the poyson wc h ye villaine poures on thy honour
runs more into my veines then all ye Venome
he spitts at me, or my deare Boy, his brother:
My Lords yor pardon, that I am transported
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not paying to you my duty.
All.
yor love, Don Pedro.
Mac:
Conceale yor selfe a while; yor sons we'le send for,
& shew them deaths face prsently.
Ped:
Ile play a part in't.
Exit.
Mac:
let them be fetcht, & speake not of a father.
Ten:
This shall be done. Exit.
Mac:
Is yor Compassion Lady yet awake?
Remember yt ye Scaffold, hangman, sword,
& all ye Instruments death playes vpon
are hither calld by you; tis you may stay them:
when at ye Barre there stood yor Ravisher
you would have savd him; then you made yor choyce
to marry him; will you then kill yor husband?
El:
Why did that Husband then rather chuse death
then me to be his Bride? is his life mine?
why then, because ye Law makes me his Iudge,
Ile be, like you, not cruell, but repreive him.
my prisoner shall kisse mercy.
Mac:
y'are a good Lady.
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Lady, vntill they come repose yor selfe.
Exit Eleonora
Mac:
How now? so soone come backe? why thus returnd?
Ent: Pike, & a Gentleman wt h Letters.
Gen:
Our Iourney to Madrid ye king himselfe
cutts off by these his royall letters sent
vpon ye wings of speed to all yor Graces.
He lay one night since at yor house my Lord,
where, by yor noble Wife he had a wellcome
fitting his greatnes, & yor will.
Alq:
I'me glad of't.
Mac:
The king, or Master, writes heere, Englishman,
he has lost a subiect by you; yet referres
himselfe to vs about you.
Pike.
Againe I stand heere
to lay my owne life downe; please his high Maiesty
to take it; for what's lost, his fate to fall
was fortune de la guerre; & at ye feete
of his most royall Maiesty, & at yor s
(my Princely Lords & Iudges) low as th'earth
I throw my wretched selfe,, [I] & begg his mercy.
Mac:
Stand vp; that mercy wc h you aske is signd by or most royall Mr.
P:
my thankes to heaven, him, & yor Graces.
Mac:
The king further writes heere,
that though yor Nation came in Thunder hither,
yet he holds out to you his Enemy
2. friendly proffers: Serve him in his Dominions,
eyther by land or sea, & thou shalt live
vpon a golden pension; such a Harvest
as thou nere reapst in England.
P:
His kingly favours
swell vp in such high heapes above my merit,
could I reare vp a Thousand lives they cannot
reach halfe ye way; Ime his, to be his Vassaile,
his Gally slave, please you to chaine me to ye oare;
but wt h his highnes pardon & yor allowance
I beg one Boone.
All.
what is't?
P:
that I may once more
see my owne Country Chimneys cast out smoake;
I owe my life and service to my king,
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of my allegeance; & that being payd,
there is another obligation;
One, to a woefull Wife, & wretched Children;
made wretched by my misery; I therefore beg
Intreat, implore, submissively hold vp my hands
to have his kingly pitty & yours to lett me goe.
All.:
Let him e'ne goe.
Mac:
well, since we cannot win you to or service,
we will not weane you from yor Countryes love;
The king, or Lord, com̄ands vs here to give you
A hundred pistoletts to beare you home.
P:
A royall bounty, wc h my memory
shall never loose; no, nor these noble favours
wc h from ye Lady Marquesse Alquevezzes
raynd plenteously on me.
Alq:
What did she to thee?
Gyr:
How did she entertaine thee?
Pi:
Rarely, it is a brave
bounteous, munificent, magnificent Marquezza,
the great Turke cannot tast better meat
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Alq:
so, so.
P:
And for a lodging; if ye Curtaines about my Bed had bene cutt
of Sunbeames, I could not lye in a more glorious Chamber.
Mac:
you have something then to speake of or weomen when y'are in England.
Pi:
This Box wt h a gold chaine in't for my Wife, & some pretty things
for my Children, given me by yor honourd Lady would else cry out
on me; there's a Spanish shirt, richly lacd & seamd, her guift too;
& whosoever layes a foule hand vpon her linnen in scorne of her
bounty, were as good flea ye Divells skin over his eares.
Mac:
Well said; In England thou wilt drinke her health?
P:
Were it a glasse as deepe to ye bottome as a spanish pike is long,
an Englishman shall doe't; her health & Don Iohns wives too.
Ent: Iaylor.
Iay:
The Prisoners are vpon com̄ing.
Mac:
stand by, Englishman.
Ent: Teniente, Henrico, Manuell, Pedro (as a fryer) At another dore Eleonora.
Mac:
Give ye Lady roome there.
Clark.
Peace.
Mac:
yor facts are both so foule, yor hated lives
cannot be too soone shortned; therefore these Lords
hold it not fitt to lend you breath till morning,
but now to cutt you off.
Both.
The stroke is welcome.
Ped:
Shall I prpare you?
Hen:
save yor paynes good father.
Man:
we have allready cast vp or accounts
& sent, we hope, or debts vp into heaven.
Fer:
Our sorrowes, & or sighes fly after them.
Ped:
Then yor Confession of ye murther stands
as you yor selfe did sett it downe?
Man:
It does;
but on my knees I beg, this marginall note
may sticke vpon ye paper; that no guilt,
but feare of Tortures frighted me to take
that horrid sin vpon me; I am as innocent
& free as are ye starres from plotting treason
gainst their first mover.
Ped:
I was then in france,
when of yor fathers murther ye report
did fill all Paris.
Man:
Such a reverend habit
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Hen:
Tis blacke, & of my dying; for 'twas I,
to cheate my brother of my fathers lands
layd this most hellish plott.
Fer:
for .3. hellish sins, Robbery, Rape & murther.
Hen:
I'me guilty of all Three, his soule's as white
& cleare from murther as this holy man
from killing mee.
Ped:
No, there's a thing about me
shall strike thee into dust, & make thy tongue
wt h trembling to proclayme thy selfe a Villaine;
more then thou yet hast done; see, tis my Eye.
Hen:
Oh I am confounded. falls.
Man:
but I comforted,
wt h ye most heavenly apparition
of my deare honourd father.
fer:
Take thou comfort
by Two more apparitions, of a father,
& a lost Daughter, yet heere found for thee.
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Oh noble sir, I pray forgive my brother;
El:
See sir, I doe; & wt h my hand reach to him
my heart to give him new life.
Fer:
rise, my Henrico.
Mac:
Rise, & receive a noble minded wife
worth troupes of other weomen.
Hen:
shame leaves me speechles.
Ped:
Gett thee a tongue againe, & pray & mend.
Mac:
Letters shall forthwt h fly into Madrid
to tell ye king ye s e storyes of Two Brothers,
worthy ye Courtiers reading; Lovers, take hands,
Hymen & gentle faeryes strew yor way,
or Sessions turnes into a Bridall day.
All:
fare thee well Englishman.
Pi:
I will ring peales
of prayses of you all my Lords, & noble Dons.
Mac:
Doe so, if thou hast iust cause; howsoever
when thy swift ship cutts through ye curled mayne,
dance to see England, yet speake well of Spayne.
Pi:
I shall. where must I have my pistoletts?
Gent:
[Gen] follow mee.
Exeunt Omnes.
Finis.
| Dick of Devonshire | |