 | The Tragedy of Tancred and Gismund |  |
Actus. 2.
Scæna. 1.
Gismund.Deare Aunt, my sole companion in distresse,
And true copartner of my thoughtfull cares:
When with my selfe, I way my present state,
Comparing it with my forepassed daies,
New heapes of cares, afresh beginne t'assay
My pensiue heart: as when the glittering raies,
Of bright Phœbus, are sodainely ore-spred,
With duskie clouds, that dim his golden light,
Namely, when I, laid in my widowes bed,
Amid the silence, of the quiet night,
With curious thought, the fleeting course obserue,
Of gladsome youth: how soone his flower decaies.
“How time once past, may neuer haue recourse,
“No more then may the running streames reuert,
“To climbe the hilles, when they bin rowled down
“The hollow vales, there is no curious art,
“Nor worldlie power, no not the gods can hold
“The sway of flying time, nor him returne
“When he is past: all things vnto his might
“Must bend, and yeeld, vnto the Iron teeth
“Of eating time: this in the shedy night,
When I record, how soone my youth withdrawes
It selfe away, how swift my pleasaunt spring
Runnes out his race, this this (Aunt) is the cause.
When I aduise me sadlie on this thing,
That makes my heart, in pensiue dumps dismaid.
For if I should, my springing yeares neglect.
And suffer youth, fruitles to fade away:
Whereto liue I? or whereto was I borne?
Why haue I tasted the delights of loue?
And felt the sweets of Hymeneus bed?
But to say sooth (deare Aunt) it is not I
Sole and alone, can thus content to spend
My chearefull yeares: my father will not still
Prolong my mournings, which haue grieued him,
And pleased me too long. Then this I craue,
To be resolued of his princelie minde.
For, stoode it with the pleasure of his will
To marrie me, my fortune is not such,
So hard, that I so long should still persist
Makelesse alone in wofull widowhood,
And shall I tell mine Aunt? come hether then,
Geue me that hand, by thine owne right hand,
I charge thy heart my councels to conceale.
Late haue I seene, and seeing, tooke delight,
And with delight, I will not say, I loue,
A Prince, an Earle, a Countie in the Court.
But loue and duetie force me to refraine,
And driue away these fond affections,
Submitting them vnto my fathers hest.
But this (good Aunt) this is my chiefest paine,
Because I stand at such vncertaine stay.
For if my kinglie father would decree
His finall doome, that I must leade my life
Such as I doe, I would content me then
To frame my fancies to his princely heast,
And as I might, endure the greefe thereof.
But now his silence doubleth all my doubts,
Whilest my suspitious thoughts twixt hope & feare,
Distract me into sundrie passions.
To vnderstand my fathers will herein:
For wel I know your wisdome knowes the meanes,
So shall you both allay my stormie thoughts,
And bring to quiet my vnquiet mind.
Luc.
Sufficeth this (good Neece) that you haue said,
For I perceiue what sundrie passions
Striue in your brest, which oftentimes ere this
Your countenance confused did bewray,
The ground whereof since I perceiue to grow
On iust respect of this your sole estate,
And skilfull care of fleeting youths decay,
Your wise foresight such sorrowing to eschew
I much commend, and promise as I may
To breake this matter, and impart your mind,
Vnto your father, and to worke it so,
As both your honor shal not be impeacht,
Nor he vnsatisfied of your desire.
Be you no farther greeued, but returne
Into your chamber. I shall take this charge,
And you shall shortlie truely vnderstand
What I haue wrought, and what the king affirmes.
I leaue you to the fortune of my starres.
Gis. departeth into her chamber, Luc. abiding on the stage.
Luc.
The heauens I hope will fauour your request.
My Neece shall not impute the cause to be
In my default, her will should want effect:
But in the king is all my doubt, least he
My suite for her new mariage should reiect.
Yet shall I proue him: and I heard it said,
He meanes this euening in the parke to hunt,
Here will I wait attending his approach.
Scæna. 2.
Tancred commeth out of his Pallace with Guiszard the Countie Palurine, Iulio the Lord Chamberlaine, Renuchio captaine of his Guard, already to hunt.Tancred.
Vncouple all our hounds: Lords to the chase:
Faire sister Lucre, what's the newes with you?
Luc.
Sir, as I alwaies haue imployd my power,
And faithfull seruice, such as lay in me,
In my best wise, to honour you and yours:
So now, my bounden dutie moueth me,
Your maiestie most humblie to intreat,
With patient eares, to vnderstand the state,
Of my pore neece, your daughter.
Tanc.
what of her?
Is she not well? Inioyes she not her health?
Say sister, ease me of this iealous feare?
Lucr.
She liues my Lord, & hath her outward helth,
But all the danger of her sicknes lies
In the disquiet of her princelie mind:
Tan.
Resolue me? what afflicts my daughter so,
Lucr.
Since when the Princes hath intoumb'd her Lord
Her late disseased husband of renowne:
Brother, I see, and verie well perceiue,
She hath not clos'de together in his graue,
All sparkes of nature, kindnes, nor of loue:
But as she liues, so liuing may she feele,
Such passions as our tender hearts oppresse,
Subiect vnto th'impressions of desire:
For well I wot, my neece was neuer wrought,
Of steele, nor carued from the stonie rocke,
Such stearne hardnes, we ought not to expect,
In her, whose princelie heart, and springing yeares,
Is lead of force, to feed on such conceits,
As easilie befalles that age, which asketh ruth
Of them, whome nature bindeth by foresight
Of their graue yeares, and carefull loue to reach,
The things that are aboue their feeble force:
And for that cause, dread Lord although.
Tanc.
Sister I say.
If you esteeme, or ought respect my life,
Her honor, and the welfare of our house,
Forbeare, and wade no further in this speech.
Your words, are wounds, I verie well perceiue,
The purpose of this smooth oration:
This I suspected, when you first began,
This faire discourse with vs: Is this the end
Of all our hopes, that we haue promised
Vnto ourselfe, by this her widdowhood?
Would our deare daughter, would our onely ioy,
Would she fersake vs? would she leaue vs now?
Before she hath closde vp, our dying eies,
And with her teares, bewaild our funerall?
No other solace, doth her father craue,
But whilst the fates, maintaine his dying life,
Her healthfull presence, gladsome to his soule,
Which rather then he willing would for-goe,
His heart desires, the bitter tast of death:
Her late marriage, hath taught vs to our griefe,
That in the fruits, of her perpetuall sight
Consists the onely comfort and reliefe,
Of our vnweldy age: for what delight
What ioy? what comfort? haue we in this world,
Now growen in yeares, and ouer-worne with cares,
Already falling like the mellowed fruite,
And dropping by degrees into our graue.
But what reuiues vs? what maintaines our soule
Within the prison of our withered brest?
But our Gismunda and her chearefull sight.
O daughter, daughter, what desert of mine,
Wherein haue I beene so vnkind to thee?
Thou shouldst desire to make my naked house
Yet once againe stand desolate by thee?
O let such fansies vanish with their thoughts,
Tell her I am her father, whose estate,
Wealth, honor, life, and all that we possesse,
Whollie relies vpon her presence here.
Tell her I must account her all my ioy,
Worke as she will: But yet she were vniust,
To haste his death that liueth by her fight
Lucr.
Her gentle hart abhors such ruthles thoughts.
Tan.
Then let her not geue place to these desires.
Lucr.
She craues the right that nature chalengeth.
Tan.
Tell her the king commaundeth otherwise.
Lucr.
The kings cōmandment alwais should be iust.
Tan.
What ere it be the kings commaund is iust.
Lucr.
Iust to commaund: but iustlie must he charge.
Tanc.
He chargeth iustlie that commands as king.
Lucr.
The kings command concerns the body best.
Tan.
The king commands obedience of the minde.
Luc.
That is exempted by the law of kinde,
Tan.
That law of kind to children doth belong.
Luc,
In due obedience to their open wrong.
Tan.
I then, as king and father, will commaund.
Luc.
No more then may with right of reason stand.
Thou knowest our minde, resolue her, depart,
Returne the chase, we haue beene chac'd enough.
Tancred returneth into his pallace, & leaueth the hunt.
Luc.
He cannot heare, anger hath stopt his eares,
And ouer-loue his iudgement hath decaide.
Ah my poore Neece, I shrewdly feare thy cause.
Thy iust complaint shall neuer be relieu'd.
Scæna 3.
Gismunda commeth alone out of her chamber.Gis.
By this I hope my aunt hath mou'd the king.
And knows his mind, & makes return to me
To end at once all this perplexitie.
Lo where she stands. Oh how my trembling heart
In doubtfull thoughts panteth within my brest.
For in her message doth relie my smart.
Or the sweet quiet of my troubled minde.
Luc.
Neece, on the point you lately willed me
To treat of with the king in your behalfe,
I brake euen now with him so farre, till he
In sodain rage of griefe, ere I scarce had
My tale out tolde, praid me to stint my suite,
As that from which his minde abhorred most.
And well I see his fansie to refute,
Is but displeasure gainde, and labor lost.
So firmely fixed stands his kingly will,
That til his body shalbe laid in graue,
He will not part from the desired sight
Of your presence, which silder he should haue,
If he had once allied you againe,
In marriage to any prince or peere.
Gis.
A resolution that resolues my bloud
Into the Ice-sie drops of Lethes flood,
Luc.
Therefore my counsel is, you shall not sturre,
Nor further wade in such a case as this:
But since his will, is grounded on your loue,
And that it lies in you, to saue or spill,
His old fore-wasted age: you ought t'eschew,
The thing that greeues so much his crazed heart,
And in the state you stand, content your selfe:
And let this thought, appease your troubled mind,
That in your hands, relies your fathers death,
Or blisfull life, and since without your sight,
He cannot liue, nor can his thoughts indure,
Your hope of marriage, you must then relent,
And ouer-rule these fond affections:
Least it be said, you wrought your fathers end.
Gis.
Deare Aunt, I haue with patient eares indurde,
The hearing of my fathers hard behest:
And since I see, that neither I my selfe,
Nor your request, can so preuaile with him,
Nor anie sage aduice perswade his mind
To grant me my desire, In willing wise,
I must submit me vnto his command,
And frame my heart to serue his maiestie.
And (as I may) to driue awaie the thoughts
That diuersly distract my passions,
Which as I can, Ile labour to subdue,
But sore I feare, I shall but toile in vaine,
Wherein (good Ant) I must desire your paine.
Luc.
What lies in me by comfort or aduice,
I shall discharge with all humilitie.
Gismund and Lucre depart into Gismunds chamber.
Who markes our former times and present yeres,
What we are now, and lookes what we haue bin,
He cannot but lament with bitter teares,
The great decay and change of all women.
For as the world wore on and waxed olde,
So vertue quaild, and vice began to grow.
So that, that age, that whilome was of golde,
Is worse than brasse, more vile than yron now,
The times were such, that if we ought beleeue
Of elder daies) women examples were,
Of rare vertues: Lucre disdaind to liue
Longer then chast: and boldly without feare
Tooke sharpe reuenge on her inforced heart,
With her owne hands: for that it not withstood
The wanton will, but yeelded to the force
Of proud Tarquin, who bought hir fame with blood.
Chor. 2.
Queene Artemissa thought an hepe of stones,
(Although they were the wonder of that age)
A worthlesse graue, wherein to rest the bones
Of her deare Lord, but with bold courage,
She dranke his heart, and made her louely breast
His tombe, and failed not of wifely faith,
Of promist loue, and of her bound behest,
Vntill she ended had her daies by death.
Vlysses wife (such was her stedfastnesse)
Abode his slow returne whole twentie yeeres:
And spent her youthfull daies in pensiuenes,
Bathing her widdowes bed with brinish teares.
Chor. 3
The stout daughter of Cato Bratus wife, Portia
When she had heard his death, did not desire
Longer to liue: and lacking vse of knife,
And eat whot burning coales: O worthy dame!
O vertues worthy of eternall praise!
The floud of Lethe cannot wash out thy fame,
To others great reproach, shame, and dispraise.
Chor. 4.
Rare are those vertues now in womens mind,
Where shall we seeke such iewels passing strange?
Scarse can you now among a thousand finde
One woman stedfast: all delight in change.
Marke but this princesse that lamented here,
Of late so sore her noble husbands death,
And thought to liue alone without a pheare,
Behold how soone she changed hath that breath.
I thinke those Ladies that haue liu'd to fore,
A mirror and a glasse to womenkinde,
By those their vertues they did set such store,
That vnto vs they none bequeath'd behinde.
Els in so many yeeres we might haue seene
As vertuous as euer they haue beene.
Chor. 1.
Yet let not vs maydens condemne our kinde,
Because our vertues are not all so rare:
For we may freshly yet record in minde,
There liues a virgin, one without compare:
Who of all graces hath her heauenly share.
In whose renowme, and for whose happie daies,
Let vs record this Pæan of her praise.
Cantant.
Per Hen. No.
Finis Actus 2.
| The Tragedy of Tancred and Gismund | |