University of Virginia Library

Actus quartus.

Enter Ferdinand and Sarlois, open a curtaine: kneele Saxony, the Hermet and Mathias: tapers burning.
Sarl.
See Princely vncle the blacke dormitory,
Where Austria and Prince Lodowick are layd
On the cold bed of earth, where they must sleepe
Till earth and ayre, and sea consume by fire.

Fer.
Their rest be peace, their rising glorious;
Sad mourners, giue your partners leaue to kneele,
And make their offertorie on this tombe,
That does containe the honourablest earth
That euer went vpright in Germany,

Sax.
Welcome Duke Ferdinand, come, come, keele, kneele,
Thus should each friend anothers sorrow feele.

Sarl.
Is Lucibella in this monument?

Rod.
Noe, shee's recouer'd from deaths violence;
But through her woundes and griefe distract of sence.

Sarl.
Heauen helpe her, here she comes:

Enter Lucibella mad.
Rod.
Kneele still, I pray.

Mat.
Oh mee accurst! why liue I this blacke day!

Luc.
Oh a sword, I pray you kill me not,
For I am going to the riuers side
To fetch white lillies, and bew daffadils
To sticke in Lodowicks bosome, where it bled,
And in mine owne; my true loue is not dead,
Noe y'are deceiud in him, my father is:
Reason he should, he made me run away;
And Lodowick too, and you Mathias too;
Alacke for woe, yet what a the remedy?
We must run all awaye: yet all must dye.
'Tis soe, I wrought it in a sampler,
'Twas heart in hand, and true loues knots and words,
All true stitch by my troth: the posie thus:
No flight deare loue but death, shall seuer vs;
Nor that did not neyther; he lies here does he not?

Rod.
Yes louely madam, pray be patient.

Luc.
I so I am, but pray tell me true,
Could you be patient, or you, or you, or you,
To loose a father and a husband too:
Yee could, I cannot; open, doore here hoe!
Tell Lodowick, Lucibell would speake with him;
I haue newes from heauen for him, he must not dy,
I haue rob'd Prometheus of his moouing fire:
Open the dore, I must come in, and will,
Ile beate my selfe to ayre, but Ile come in.

Sarl.
Alas her tender hands smiting the stone
Beweepe their mistris rage in teares of blood.

Ferd.
Faire Lady be of comfort, t'is in vaine
To inuocate the dead to life againe.

Sax.
I gentle Daughter be content, I pray,
Their fate is come, and ours is not, far off.

Mat.
Here is a hand ouer my fate hath power
And I now sinke vnder the stroke of death,
But that a purer spirit fils my brest
And guides me from the footsteps of dispaire,

Sarl.
A heauenly motion full of charity,
Your selfe to kil you selfe were such a sinne
As most diuines hold deadly.

Luc.
I but a knaue may kill one by a tricke,
Or lay a plot, or foe, or cog, or prate,
Make strife, make a mans father hang him,
Or his brother, how thinke you goodly Prince,
God giue you ioy of your adoption;
May nor trickes be vsd?

Sarl.
Alas poore Lady.

Luc.
I thats true, I am poore, and yet haue things.
And gold rings, and amidst the leaues greenea
Lord how dee, well I thanke god, why thats well,
And you my Lord, and you too; neuer a one weepe,
Must I shed all the teares? well he is gone,
And he dwells here ye sayd, ho i'le dwell with him,
Death, dastard, Diuell, robber of my life
Thou base adulterer, that partst man and wife
Come I defie thy darts.

Fer.
O sweet forbeare.
For pitties sake a while her rage restraine
Last she doe violence vpon herselfe.

Luc.
O neuer feare me, there is somewhat cries
Within menoe: tels me there's knaues abroad
Bids mee be quiet, lay me downe and sleepe
Good night good gentlefolkes, brother your hand,
And yours good father, you are my father now,
Doe but stand here, I'le run a little course
At base, or barley-breake, or some such toye,
To catch the fellow, and come backe againe,
Nay looke thee now, let goe, or by my troth
Ile tell my Lodowick how yee vse his loue:
Soe now god-buye, now god-night indeede:
Lie further Lodowick take not all the roome,
Be not a churle, thy Lucibell doth come.

Exit
Sax.
Follow her brother, follow son Mathias,
Be carefull guardians of the troubled mayd;
Whiie I conferre with Princely Ferdinand
About an embassie to Austria,
With true reports of there disasterous haps.

Mat.
Well, I will bee her guardian and her guide,
By me her sences haue bin weakned,
But i'le contend with charitable paine,
To serue her, till they be restord againe.

Exit
Sarl.
A vertuous, noble resolution.

Fer.
Worthy Prince Rodorigo, when tempestuous woe
Abates her violent storme, I shall haue time
To chide you for vnkindenes, that haue liu'd
In solitary life with vs so long.
Beleue me Saxon Prince you did vs wrong:

Rod.
Would I might neuer liue in noe worse state;
For contemplation is the path to heauen.
My new conversing in the world is prou'd
Lucklesse and full of sorrow; fare-ye-well
My heauens, alone, all company seemes hell.

Exit.
Fer.
My nephew call for wine my soule is dry
I am sad at sight of soe much misery.

Enter Ierom and Stilt, with cup, towell, and wine.
Sarl.
Is the Dukes taster there?

Ier.
I am at hand with my office.

Sarl.
Fill for the Duke good cozen, tast it first.

Ier.
I haue no minde to it Stilt, for all my antidote.

Stilt.
I warrant you Master let Prince Otho drinke next,

Ier.
Heere cozen, will you begin to my father?

Sarl.
I thanke you kindly, i'le not be so bold,
It is your offiice; fill vnto my Lord.

Ier.

Well god be with it, it's gon downe, and now ile
send the medicine after; Father pray drinke to my cozen
for hee is soe mannerly that hee'l not drinke before you.

Stilt.

Pray yee doe my Lord, for Prince Otho is best worthy
of all this company to drinke of that cup, which and
he doe, I hope he shall nere drinke more.

Fer,

Good fortune after all this sorrow Saxony.

Sax.

O worthy Ferdinand, fortune and I are parted, she
has playd the minion with mee, turn'd all her fauours in
to frownes, and in scorne rob'd mee of all my hopes, and in
one houre o're-turnd mee from the top of her proud
wheele.

Fer.
Build not on fortune, shee's a fickle dame
And those that trust vnto her spheare are fooles.
Fill for his Excellence.

Ier.

Here cozen for your Excellence, pray drinke you to
the Duke of Saxony.

Sarl.

Not I kind cozen, I list not to drinke.

Ier.

Gods Lady, I thinke Stilt, wee are all vndone, for I
feele a iumbling worse and worse.

Stilt.

O giue the Duke some of the medicine

Fer.

What medicine talk'st thou of? what ayles my son?

Ier.

O lord, father, and yee meane to be a liues man take
some of this.

Fer.

Why? this is deadly poyson vnprepar'd.

Ier.

True, but it was prepar'd for you and mee by an excellent
fellow, a french Doctor?

Stilt.
I, he is one that had great cqre of you.

For.
Villaine what was he? drinke not Saxony
I doubt I am by treason poyson'd.

Sarl.
Heauen keepe that fortune from my dread Lord.

Enter Lorrique hastily.
Lor.
Treason ye Princes, treason to the liues
Of Ferdinand the Duke of Prussia
My Princely master! Otho of Luningberg

Sarl.
Who should intend vs treason?

Lor.
This fond Prince.

Ier.

Neuer to you Father, but to my cozen Charles;
indeede I meant to poyson him, but I haue pepperd my
selfe.

Sarl.

I neuer gaue thee cause.

Stilt.

That's nothing to the purpose, but my Lord tooke
occasion by the councell of a French Doctor.

Sarl.
Physitians for the Duke, my vncle faints.

Stilt.
Surgeons for the Prince, my master falls.

Fer.
Call no Phisitians, for I feel't too late,
The subtill poyson mingled with my blood
'Nums all the passages, and nimble death
Fleetes on his purple currents to my heart.

Ier.

Father, I am dying too, oh now I departe,
Be good to Stilt my man, he was accessary
to all this.

Stils.

I truely: was I sir therefore I hope you'le be good
to me, I helpt to mingle the poyson as the French Doctor,
and my master charged me.

Fer.
What's that French Doctor?

Sarl.
What's become of him?

Stilt.
Wee left him in the court in my masters chamber.

Ier.
I sir woe worth him, farewell Stilt, farewell fathers
I aske you pardon with repentant eyes;
Fall stars, O Stilt, for thus thy master dyes.

moritur
Fer.
Take hence that maytor for the foole his man.

Stilt.
I pray prouide for me sir;

Fer.

Let him be tortur'd, then vpon a wheele
broke like a traytor and a murderer.

Stilt,

O lord sir. I meant you noe hurt, but to Prince Charles

Sarl.

Away, disturbe vs not with idle talke.

Stilt.

Prouide quoth a and you call this prouiding, pray
let mee, prouide for my selfe, alas my poore father, hee'le
creepe vppon crutches into his graue when, he heares his
Proper'st Stilt is cut off by the stumpes.

Fer.

Hence with that fellow.

Stilt.

Pray, not soe hasty, you would scarce bee
soe forward, and you were going as I am, to the gallowes.

Exeunt guard with Stilt.
Sarl.
How cheares my royall vncle t

Fer.
Like a ship that hauing long contended with
The waues, is at last with one proud billow
Smit into the ruthlesse swallow of the sea.
For thee alas I perceiue this plot was layde;
But heauen had greater mercy on thy youth,
And one my people, that shall finde true rest
Being with a Prince so wise and vertuous blest.
Farewell most noble Iohn of Saxony,
Beare thy vnmatched griefe with a minde bent
Against the force of all temptations;
By my example Princely brother, see,
How vaine our liues and all our glories bee.

Sax.
God for thy mercy! treason vpon treason,
How now yong Otho what art thou poyson'd too?

Sarl.
Would God I were, but my sad starrs reserue
This simple building for extreamer ruine:
Oh that French doctor.

Lor.
I that worst of hell.
Noe torment shall content vs in his death.

Sax.
Nay soft and faire, let him be taken first;
How now sad brother, are you come to see
This Tragicke end of worthy Ferdinand?

Enter Rodorigo.
Rod.
I heard of it too soone, and come too late.

Sax.
Well brother leaue the Duke, and waite on mee;
Mathias, and the heartgreiu'd Lucibell
Shall goe with vs to Wittenberg, and shun
That fatall land fild with destruction.

Rod.
But Lucibella like a chased hinde
Flys through the thickets, and neglects the bryers,
After her runs your Princely son Mathias,
As much disturbd, though not so much distract,
Vowing to follow her, and if he can,
Defend her from dispairing actions.

Sax.
And we will follow them, Prince Otho adue
Care goes with vs, yet we leaue griefe with you,
Interre your vncle, punish traytours crimes,
Looke to your person, these are dangerous times,

Exit Saxony and Rodorigo.
Sarl.
Lords take this body, beare it to the court,
And all the way sound a sad heauy  march ,
Which you may truly keepe, then peeple treade
A mournefull  march  indeed,
Goe on afore, ile stay awhile, and weepe
My tributary teares paid on the ground
Where my true ioy your Prince my vncle fell:
Ile follow to driue from you all distresse
And comfort you, though I be comfortles.
Art not thou plumpt with laughter my Lorrique,

Exeunt with the body. A  march .
Lor.
All this excellent, but worthy Lord,
There is an accident this instant chanc'st
Able to ouerthrow in one poore howre
Aswell your hopes as these assurances.

Sarl.
Whats that Lorrique? what can fortune doe
That may diuert my straine of pollicy.

Lor.
You know all Prussia take you for the son
Of beautious Martha,

Sarl.
I they suppose me to be Otho her son,
And son to that false Duke whom I will kill
Or curse my stars

Lor.
His star is sunke already, death and he
Haue vowed an endlesse league of amity.

Sarl.
Had I Briareus hands, i'de striue with heauen
For executing wrath before the houre,
But wishes are in vaine, hee's gone.

Flourish.
Enter as many as may be spar'd, with lights, and make a lane kneeling while Martha the Dutchesse like a mourner with her traine passeth through.
Mar.
Our son is somewhat slacke as wee conceiue
By this delaying while our heart is fear'd,
And our eyes dim'd with expectation
As are the lights of such as on the beach
With many a longing, yet a little proofe
Stand wayting the returne of those they loue.

Enter Lorrique, fals on's knees.
Lord.
His Excellence no doubt hath great affaires
But his familiar friend Lorrique is come.

Mar.
kneele not Lorrique, I prethee glad my harte
With thy tongues true report of my son Otho
Whome since his Princely Father is decea'st
I am come from ------ opprest with griefe
In person to salute him for our Duke.

Lor.
Your mother like affection, and high care,
His Highnes doth returne with duteous thankes
Desiring pardon of your excellence,
In that he did not first salute your grace:
But dismal accidents and bloody deeds,
Poysoning's treasons, foe disturbe this state
Chiefly this gentle mind since the late death
Of your right princely brother Ferdinand
That like the carefull Captaine of a band
He is compeld to bee the last in field;
Yet he protests by me, and I for him:
That no soft rest shall enter his greeu'd eyes
Till he behold your presence, more desir'd
Then the large Empire of the wide earth;
Onely he prayes that you would take your rest
For in your soft content his heart is blest.

Mar.
Spread me a Carpet on the humble earth:
My hand shall be the pillow to my head,
This step my bolster, and this place my bed.

Lor.
Your Highnes will take harme.

Mar.
Nay, neuer feare.
A heart with sorrow fild sleepes any where,
Will our son come to night?

Lor.
Madam hee will.

Mar.
All with doing duty depart, and she sits downe hauing a candle by her, and reades.

Enter Hoffman, and Lorrique.
Hoff.
Art sure she is a sleepe!

Lor,
I cannot tell, be not too hasty.

Hoff.
She stirs not, shee is fast.
Sleepe sweet fayre Dutchesse, for thou sleep'st thy last:
Endymions loue, muffle in cloudes thy face,
And all ye yellow tapers of the heauen
Vayle your cleare brightnes in Cimerian mistmis;
Let not one light my blacke deed beautiste;
For with one stroake vertue and honour dyes.
And yet we must not kill her in this kind:
Weapons draw blood, blood shed will plainely prooue
The worthy Dutchesse, worthles of this death
Was murdered, and the guard are witnesses,
None enter'd but our selues.

Lor.
Then strangle her, here is a towell fit.

Hoff.
Good: kneele and helpe, compasse her necke about,
Alas poore Lady thou sleep'st here secure
And neuer dream'st of what thou shalt endure.

Lor.
Nay, good my Lord dispatch.

Hoff.
What ruthlesse hinde
Shall I wrong nature that did ne're compose
One of her sexe so perfect? prethee stay,
Suppose we kill her thus about her necke,
Circles of purple blood will change the hue
Of this white porphirie and the red lines
Mixt with a deadly blacke, will tell the world
She dyed by violence, then t'will be inquir'd
And we held euer hatefull for the act.

Lor.
Then place beneath her nostrils this small box
Conteyning such a powder that hath power,
Being set on fire to suffocate each sence
Without the sight of wound, or shew of wrong.

Hoff.
That's excellent, fetch fire, or doe not, stay:
The candle shall suffice, yet that burnes dim;
And drops his waxen teares as if it mourn'd
To be an agent in a deed so darke.

Lor.
Will you confound your selfe by dotage speake,
S'wounds ile confound her, and shee linger thus.

Hoff.
Thou wer't as good, and better,—note my words:
Run vnto the top of dreadfull scarre,
And thence fall headlong on the vnder rocks,
Or set thy brest against a cannon fir'd,
When iron death flies thence on flaming wings,
Or with thy shoulders, Atlas like attempt,
To beare the ruines of a falling tower,
Or swim the Ocean; or run quicke to hell;
(as dead assure thy selfe no better place)
Then once looke frowning on this angells face
Confound her? blacke confusion be my graue
Whisper one such word more, thou dyest base slaue.

Lor.
I haue done, ile honor her if you command

Hoff.
She stirs, and when she wakes obserue me well,
Sooth vp what ere, I say, touching Prince Otho.

Mar.
Prince Otho, is our son come? who's there Lorrique?

Lor.
What shall I answere her?

Mar.
Whose that thou talkst with?

Hoff.
The most indebted seruant to your Grace
Of any creature vnderneath the Moone.

Mar.
I prethee friend be briefe, what is thy name?
I know thee not, what businesse hast thou here?
Art thou a messenger come from our son?
If so acquaint vs with the newes thou bring'st.

Hoff.

I saw your Highnes son, Lorrique here knowes,
the last of any liuing.

Mar.
Liuing? heauen helpe,
I trust my son h'as no commerce with death.

Hoff.
Your son noe doubt is well, in blessed state.

Mar.
My heart is smitten through thy answere,
Lorrique, where is thy gracious Lord?

Lor.
In heauen I hope.

Hoff.
True madam, he did perish in the wracke
When he came first by sea from Lubecke hauen.

Mar.
What false impostor then hath mock't my care?
Abus'd my Princely brother Ferdinand?
Gotten his Dukedome in my dead sons name?

Hoff.
I grant him an impostor, therein false
But when your Highnes heares the circumstance,
I know your wisedome and meeke piety
Will Iudge him well deseruing in your eyes.

Mar.
What can be sayd now I haue lost my son?
Or how can this base two-tongu'd hypocrite
Excuse concealing of his masters death.
Vnhappy Martha, in thy age vndone,
Robd of a husban'd, cheated of a son.

Hoff.
Heare me with patience for that pitties sake
You shewed my captiue body, by the teares
You shed, when my poore father dragd to death
Indur'd all violence at theyr hands:
By all the mercies powrd on him and me
That like coole rayne somewhat allayd the heate
Of our sad torment, and red sufferings;
Here me but speake a little to repay
With gratitude the fauours I receiu'd.

Mar.
Art thou the lucklesse son of that sad man
Lord of Burtholme some time admirall?

Hoff.
I was his onely son, whom you set free,
Therefore submissiuely I kneele and craue,
You would with patience heare your seruant speake;

Mar.
Be briefe, my swolne heart is at poynt to breake.

Hoff.
I stood vpon the top of the high scarre,
Where I beheld the splitted ship let in
Deuouring ruine in the shape of waues,
Some got on Rafts, but were as soone cast off
As they weare seated; many strid the mast,
But the seas working was soe violent,
That nothing could preserue them from their fury,
They did and were intombed in the deepe.
Except some two the surges washt a shore
Prince Charles being one, who on Lorriques backe
Hang with claspt hands, that neuer could vnfold,

Mar.
Why not aswell as he Lorrique doth liue,
Or how was he found claspt vpon his backe
Except he had had life to fold his hands.

Hoff.
Madam, your Highnes errs in that conceite,
For men that dye by drowning, in their death,
Hold surely what they claspe, while they haue breath.

Lor.
Well he held mee, and sunke me too.

Hoff.
Ile witnes, when I had recouerd him
The Princes head being split against a Rocke
Past all recouer, Lorrique in desperate rage,
Sought sundry meanes to spoyle his new-gain'd life,
Exclay minge for his master: cursing heauen,
For being vniust to you, though not to him,
For robbing you of comfort in your son
Oh gratious Lady sayd this grieued man
Could I but worke a meanes to cald me her griefe.
Some reasonable course to keepe blacke care
From her white bosome; I were happy then;
But knowing this, her heart will sinke with woe
And I, am rankt with miserablest men,

Lor.
I gods my witnesse, these were my laments,
Till Hoffman being as willing, as my selfe;
Did for his loue to you, that pittied him,
Take on him to be cald by your sons name,
Which now he must refuse except your Grace
Attept his seruice in Prince Otho's place,

Mar.
If this that you protest be true, your care
Was like a long reprieue, the date worne out;
The execution of my woe is come,
And I must suffer it with patience:
Where haue you layd the body of my son?

Hoff.
Within the chappell of an hermitage,
Some halfe a myle hence.

Mar.
Ile build mee there a Cell,
Made like a tombe, till death, therein ile dwell:
Yet for thy wrongs yong man attend my words
Snce neyther Ferdinand, nor Saxony,
Haue any heires, to sway their seuerall states;
Ile worke what lies in me to make thee Duke,
And since thou art accepted for my son,
Attempting it onely to doe me good
I here adopt thee: myne christen thee Otho,
Mine eyes are now the font, the water teares,
That doe baptize thee in thy borrowed name.

Hoff.
I thanke your Highnes, and of iust heauen craue
The ground I wrong you in, may turne my graue.

Mar.
Lights to our chamber, now our feares are past,
What we long doubted, is prou'd true at last.
Attend vs sonne.

Exeunit Martha and Lorrique.
Hoff.
Wee'l wait vpon your Grace.
Son, this is somewhat, this will beare the eyes
Of the rude vulgar, but this serues not me;
Dukedomes I will haue them my sword shall win,
If any interposer crosse my will,
But new made mother, ther's another fire
Burnes in this liuer lust, and hot desire,
which you must quench; must? I and shall; I know
Women will like how euer they say noe;
And since my heart is knit vnto her eyes
If she, being sanctimonious, hate my suit,
In loue this course ile take, if she denie;
Force her: true, soe: si non blanditijis, vi.

Exit.