 | The Queen, or The Excellency of Her Sex |  |
ACTUS PRIMUS.
Enter Petruchi with Bufo, Pynto and Muretto, in poor habits.Petr.
All free, and all forgiven.
Omnes.
Bless her Majesty.
Petr.
Henceforth (my friends) take heed how you so hazard
Your lives and fortunes on the peevish motion
Of every discontent, you will not finde
Mercy so rife at all times.
Muret.
Gratious Sir!
Your counsel is more like an Oracle,
Then mans advice, for my part I dare speak
For one, I rather will be rackt asunder
Then e're again offend so wise a Majesty.
Petr.
'Tis well, your lives are once more made your own;
I must attend the execution
Of your hot General, each shift now for your selves.
Exit Petruchi.
Buf.
Is he gone, ha, ha, ha!
We have the common Capony of the cleer heavens
Once more o're our heads, Sirs.
Muret.
We are at liberty out of the Hangmans clutches,
Now, mark, what good language and fair words
Will do, Gentlemen.
Pyn.
Good language! O, let me go
back and be hang'd, rather then live
within the rotten infection of thy Cankred
breath; the poyson of a flatterers
tongue is a thousand times more deadly,
then the twinges of a rope; Thou
birth of an unlucky Planet:
I abhor thee.
Muret.
Fy, fy! Can you rail on your
friends thus.
Pyn.
Friends, my friend! Captain, come
from that slippery Ele, Captain.
His very cradle was in dirt and mud
His milk the oyl of serpents; his mother
a mangy Mermaid, and a male Crocodile
begat him.
Muret.
This needs not sweet, Signior
Pynto.
Sweet Signior? Sweet Cog a
foyst, go hang thy self, thou'dst jeer the
very rags I wear off my back with thy
fustians of sweet, precious, unmatchable,
rare, wise, juditious, hey do! Pox on
thee; Sirrah, Sirrah, Hast not thou many
a time and often devoured a whole
table of mine, garnisht with plenty, nay;
variety of good wholesome fare, under
the colour of telling news with a roughy
complement?
Muret.
Good fare of thine!
Buf.
Nay, dear Gentlemen.
Pyn.
Mine! I mine, Sycophant, I (dost
mark me) to supply thy totters, paun'd a
whole study of Ephimerides, so rich,
that they might have set up a Corporation
of Almanack makers; and what had
I in return? But protestations, (hearest
thou this maunderer) that I was,
for learning, the soundest; for bounty,
the royallest; for discourse, the sententioust;
for behavour, the absolutest; for
all endowments of minde and body, the
most accomplisht that nature ever call'd
her workmanship: but thou dog, thou
scoundrel, my beggery was the fruits of
thy flattery. Stand off, Rascal, off.
Buf.
This is excellent 'faith;
Muret.
How, how! I flatter ye?
What thee, thee? A poor lousy uncloakt
imposter, a deceitful, couzening, cheating,
dull decoying fortune teller; Thou
pawn books; thou, patcht out of an old
shepheards Calender, that discoursest in
time of the change of the weather.
And whose were thy Ephemerides?
Why, Impudence, wert thou ever
worth Erra Pater's Prognostication?
Thou learned! In what? By filching,
stealing, borrowing, eating, collecting,
and counting with as weather-wise
Ideots as thy self; once in twelve
moneths thou wert indeed delivered,
(like a big bellied wife) of a two penny
Almanack, at Easter. A Hospital boy in
a blew coat shall transcribe as much in
six hours to serve all the year.
Thou a table of meat, yes, Astronomers
fare, air; or at a feast upon high
holy dayes, three red Sprats in a dish;
that was held gultony soo.
I flatter thee? Thou learned?
Pyn.
Rascal, Cannibal that feedest upon
mans flesh.
Buf.
Nay, pray, pray heartily Gentlemen;
in good earnest, and as I live,
and by this hand now—
Muret.
Right thou put'st me in minde
what I should call thee; Who was't the
cause of all the late insurrection for
which we were all like to be hang'd,
and our brave General Alphonso is this
day to suffer for; who but thou, forsooth;
the influences of the Stars, the
conjunction of the Planets, the prediction
of the celestial bodies were peremptory,
that if a' would but attempt
a civil commotion, a' should (I marry
should a') be strait crown'd present
King of Arragon. Now your Gipsonly
may i'th moon, your divination hath
fairly mounted him; poor Gentleman,
he's sure to leave his head in pawn for
giving credit to thy prognosticating ignorance.
Pyn.
I scorn thee, Parasite.
Muret.
You are a stinking starv'd-gut
star-gazer. Is that flattery or no.
Buf.
'S foot, What do you mean, Signior
Pynto, Signior Muretto?
Pyn.
I will be reveng'd, and watch my
time, Sirrah.
Muret.
Do.
Buf.
This is strange my Masters, to
be so neer the place of execution and
prattle so loud; Come, Signior Pynto, indeed
la you shall shake hands.
Pyn.
Let me alone, y'are a foolish
Captain. Muretto, I will display thee
for a—
Muret.
Hang thy self, I care not for
thee this.
Buf.
Foolish Captain, foolish Captain,
heark ye, Pynto, there's no such good
meaning in that word.
Pyn.
A Parrat can eccho, talk to
Schollers so.
Muret.
A proper Scholler, stitcht up of
waste paper.
Buf.
Sneaks, if I be a fool, I'll bang
out the wits of some of your nodles, or
dry bastinado your sides.
Muret.
Captain, sweet Captain, nay,
look, now will you put your discretion
to coxcombs?
Buf.
Yes, the proudest coxcombs of
'em all, if I be provok'd; foolish, flesh
and blood cannot eudur't.
Muret.
So, goodman sky walker, you
have made a trim hand on't, to chafe
your self into a throat cutting.
Buf.
I will shred you both so small,
that a very botcher shall shred Spanish
needles, with every fillet of your itchy
flesh; call me foolish, ye whelps-moyles;
my father was a Corn-cutter, and my
mother a muscle woman, 'tis known
what I am, and I'll make you know
what I am, If my choler be raised but
one inch higher.
Pyn.
Well, I see Mars and Saturn,
were thy Planets.
Thou art a valiant souldier, and there's
no dealing with ye. For the Captains
sake, I will abate my indignation, Muretto.
But—
Buf.
But i'thy face, I'll have no buts,
S' bores, the black guard is more honorably
suted then any of us three.
Foolish, foolish, will never out of my
head whilst I live.
Enter Velasco and Lodovico.
Muret.
Long life, eternal prosperity,
the blessing o'th heavens, and honors of
the Earth, crown the glorious merits of
the incomparable, Captain Don Velasco.
Pyn.
The Chime goes again, Captain.
Velas.
Who are these poor Creatures,
Lodovico.
Lodov.
My Lord, I know them now,
they are some of the late mutineers,
whom you (when you, took Alphonso
prisoner) presented to the rigor of the
Law, but since they are by the Queen's
pardon set at liberty.
Velas.
I should know yonder fellow.
Your name is Bufo, if I mistake not.
Buf.
My name is my own name, Sir,
and Bufo is my name, Sir; if any man
shall deny't, I dare challenge him in defence
of my Godfathers that gave me
that name, Sir; and what say you to
that, Sir?
Muret.
A shallow, unbrain'd, weak,
foolish fellow, and so forth: Your
lordship understands me;
Velas.
Well, Gentlemen, I cannot tell you now,
That any poor endeavours of mine own
Can work Alphonso's peace, yet I have spoke
And kneell'd and sued for his reprieve. The Queen
Hath heard, but will not grant; This is the day,
And this the time, and place, where he must render
The forfeit of his life unto the Law.
I onely can be sorry.
Enter Petruchi, after the hangman bearing the axe before Alphonso, with Officers.
Petr.
Alphonso, here's the place, and this the hour;
Your doom is past, and now the sword of Law
Must cut the vein that swell'd with such a frensy
Of dangerous blood against your Queen and Country.
Prepare yourself, 'tis now too late to hope.
Alph.
Petruchi, what is done I did, my ground
Was pitty of my country, not malice to't.
I sought to free wrack'd Arragon from ruin,
Which a fond womans government must bring.
O had you and the nobles of this land,
A touch but of the miseries, her weakness
Must force ye of neceessity to feel,
You would with me have bent your naked swords
Against this female Mistriss of the Crown,
And not have been such children to have fawn'd
Petr.
You are distracted;
She is our lawful Soveraign, we her Subjects.
Alph:
Subjects, Petruchi, abjects, and so live;
I come to die, on to the execution.
Pyn.
Here's a high Saturnal spirit,
Captain.
Buf.
Pox o' spirits when they mount
a man to the Hangmans mercy, I do not
like such spirits,
Velas.
I come to bid farewel, and in farewel,
To excuse my much ill fortune, for beleeve, Sir,
I hold my victory an overthrow.
To tell you how incessantly I ply'd
Her Grace, for your remission, were as useless
As was my suit, I sorry for your youth.
Let's part yet reconcil'd.
Alph.
With all my heart;
It is my glory, that I was reduc'd
By the best man at arms, that ever knighthood
Hath stil'd a Souldier—Alas! What souls are those?
Now, now, in seeing them I die too late.
Buf.
O brave General, O noble General,
we are still the rags of the old Regiment.
The truth on't is, we were loth
to leave thee, till thy head and shoulders
parted companies. But sweet good
dear General take courage, what, we
are all mortal men, and must every one
pass this way, as simple as we stand
here.
Alph.
Give me thy hand, farewel; the
Queen is merciful in sparing you; I have
not ought to give thee but my last
thanks.
Buf.
Blirt o' giving, our clothes are
paid for, and
Alph.
Art thou, and thou there too; well, leave thy art,
And do not trust the fixions of the stars,
They spoke no truth by me: My Lord Velasco,
That creature, there, Muretto, is a man
Of honest heart, for my sake take him to you:
And now soft, peace to all.
Pyn.
I will burn my books, for sware
the liberal sciences, and that is my resolution.
Buf.
Go thy way for the arrantest
General, that ever led crew of brave
Sketdreus.
Petr.
Will you make ready, Sir.
Alph.
Petruchi, yes, I have a debt to pay, 'tis natures due.
Fellow before thou ask my pardon, take it;
Be sure and speedy in thy fatal blow.
Hangm.
Never fear clean shaving, Sir.
Alph.
May I have leave to meditate?
Petr.
You may.
Lodov.
A gallant resolution, even in
death.
Enter Queen, Collummello, Almada, Herophil, and attendants.
Col.
Stay execution 'tis her Highnes pleasure;
Aphonso rise ye, and behold the Queen.
Alph.
Beshrew the voice of Majesty, my thoughts
Were fixt upon an upper Region now,
And traffick not with Earth; alas great woman,
What newer tyranny, what doom, what torments
Are borrowed from the conclave of that hell,
Where legions of worse Devils, then are in hell
Keep revels, a proud womans heart. What plagues
Are broacht from thence to kill me?
Pyn.
(Aside ... )
The moon is now Lady
of the ascendant, and the man
will dye raving.
( ... Aside.)
Alm.
Ey, Alphonso,
Will you commit another strange commotion
With your unruly tongue. And what you cannot
Perform in act, attempt to do in words?
A dying man be so uncharitable.
Alph.
Cry mercy, she is Queen of Arragon,
And courtly sports) behold an act of death.
Queen, welcom, Queen, here quaff my blood like wine;
And live a brave she tyrant.
Qu.
Alas, poor man.
Alph.
Poor man, that looks on me, delighted
to destroy me.
Buf.
Good boy i'faith, by this hand a'
speaks just as I would do, for all that he
is so near being made puddings meat.
Qu.
You are sorry
For your late desperate rudeness, Are
you not?
Alph.
By all my miseries these taunts are cruelty.
Worse then the Hangmans ax, I am not sorry,
Nay more, will not be sorry, know from me
I hate your sex in general, not you
As y'are a Queen, but as y'are a woman:
Had I a term of life could last for ever,
And you could grant it, yes, and would, yet all
Or more should never reconcile my heart
To any she alive—are ye resolved?
Qu.
His spirit flies out in his daring language.
Alphonso though the law require thy head,
Yet I have mercy where I see just cause:
You'l be a new man?
Alph.
Oh! A womans tongue
Is sharper then a pointed steel; Tender, Madam,
I kiss your Royal hand, and call you fair,
Assure this noble, this uncovered presence,
That richest vertue is your bosoms tenant,
That you are absolutely great and good;
I'll flatter all the vices of your sex,
Protesting men are monsters, women Angels,
No light ones, but full weighty, natures best,
I'll proclaim lust a pitty, pride a handsomness.
Deceit ripness of wit, bold scandalous scolding,
A bravery of spirit; bloody cruelty,
Masculine justice; more I will maintain
That Queens are chief for rule, you chief of Queens,
If you'l but give me leave to die in peace.
Pray give me leave to die. Pray good now do,
What think ye, 'tis a Royal grant; henceforth
Heaven be the rest you chose, but never come at.
A kinde farewel to all.
Col.
Can you endure
To let a Rebel prate? off with his head,
And let him then dispute.
Petr.
I should have us'd
The priviledge of time, had I known this.
You must not talk so loud.
Qu.
My Lords, a word:
What if we pardoned him, I think the
neerness of his arrival to the stroke of
death,
Will ever be a warning to his Loyalty.
Alm.
How pardon him! What means your Majesty?
What can you hope from one so wholly drown'd
In melancholy and sowre discontent;
That should he share the Crown, a' would imploy t
On none but Apes and Flatterers.
Velas.
Spare, my Lord
Such liberal censure, rather reyn the fury
Of Justice, then so spur it on. Great Mistris,
I will not plead my services, but urge
The glories you may challenge by your mercy.
It will be a most sweet becoming act
To set you in the Chronicles of memory.
Qu.
Velasco, thou art not more brave in arms
To conquer with thy valour, then thy courtesie.
Alphonso, take thy life, who took thee prisoner,
Is now become thy spokesman.
Phew, mock not
Calamity so grosly.
Velas.
You are too desperate:
The Queen hath freely pardoned you.
Qu.
And more to purchase kinde opinion
of thy Sex, our self will lend our
help. Lords, all your hands.
Lodov.
But is the Queen in earnest?
Velas.
It becomes her,
Mercy is God like.
Qu.
Officers be gone.
Exit Officers
Such objects for a Royal presence are
Unfit, here kiss our hand, we dare conceive
That 'twas thy hight of youth, not hate of us
Drew thee to those attempts, and both we pardon.
Muret.
Do not the stars run a wrong
byas now, Signior Pynto?
Pyn.
Venus is Lady of the Ascendant,
man. I knew if once he pass the fatal
hour, the influence would work another
way.
Muret.
Very likely, your reasons are
infallible.
Qu.
What can our favours challenge.
Alph.
More true service,
True faith, true Love, then I have words to utter.
Qu.
Which we accept, lead on, here ends this strife,
When Law craves justice, mercy should
grant life.
Exit all but Pynto and his fellows.
Pyn.
Go thy waies for a sure sound
brain'd piece whilst thou livest; Pynto,
say I, now, now, now, am I an ass, now my
Masters, hang your selves, 'S foot, I'll
stand to't; that man whoever he be,
(better or worse, all's one) who is not
star wise, is natures fool; your Astonomer
hath the heavens, the whole globe
of the earth, and the vast gulf of the
Sea it self, for his proper kingdom, his
fee-simple, his own inheritance, who
looks any higher then the top of a steeple,
or a may-pool, is worthy to die in
a ditch. But to know the conjunctions
of the Planets, the influences of the
celestial body, the harmony of the
spheares, frost and snow, hail and tempests,
rain and sun-shine, nay, life and
death; here's cunning, to be deep in
speculation, to be groping the secrets
of nature.
Muret.
O, Sir, there, there, there.
Pyn.
Let me alone, I say it my self,
I know I am a rare fellow; why, look,
look ye, we are all made, or let me be
stew'd in Star-shut; pish, I am confident,
and we shall all mount, beleeve
it.
Buf.
Shall we, nay, then I am resolv'd.
Muret.
Frier Bacon was but a brazen
head, in comparison of him.
Buf.
But why should you not have said
so much before, goodman Jolthead?
Muret.
Nay, look ye, Captain,
there's a time for all things.
Buf.
For all this, what will become
of us; is the sign lucky to venture
the begging of a cast sute? Let me be
resolved of that once.
Muret.
'Twas wisely urg'd, Captain.
Pyn.
Mans richest ornament is his nakedness,
Gentlemen, variety of clothing
is the surquedry of fools; wise men
have their proper solace in the linings
of their mindes; as for fashions, 'tis a
disease for a horse.
Muret.
Never richer stuff came from
man.
Buf.
'Zookes, 'tis a scurvy, a pocky, and
a naked answer; a plague of all your
sentences; whilst I am like to starve
with hunger and cold,
Enter Messenger.
Mes.
By your leave, Gentlemen, the
Lord Alphonso hath sent you this purse
of gold, commands ye to put your selves
into costly sutes, and repair to Court;
All.
How! To Court!
Mes.
Where you may happily see him
Crowned King, for that's the common
report; I was charg'd to urge you to
be very speedy: farewel, Gentlemen.
Exit.
Pyn.
What think ye now, my hearts
of gold?
Muret.
Hearts of gold indeed now,
Signior.
Pish, I am a coxcomb, I; Oh,
the divinity of—
Buf.
Bawll no more the weather's
cold, I must have utensicles, follow
your leader, ho.
Exit all.
Enter Velasco and Lodovico.
Velas.
Prethee perswade me not.
Lodov.
You'l loose your honor.
Velas.
Ide rather loose my honor then my faith:
O, Lodovico, thou art witness with me,
that I have sworn, and pledg'd my heart,
my truth to her deserving memory,
whose beauty, is through the world unfellowed.
Lodov.
Here the wisdom of sword men,
They deal all by strength not policy.
What exercise shall be fain'd, let me know that?
Velas.
Excuse, why, Lodovico, I am sick,
And I am sick indeed, sick to the soul.
Lodov.
For a decay'd tilter, or a
known Coward, this were tollerable
now: But to the business; I have solicited
your widow.
Velas.
Will she nor speak with me?
Lodov.
Young widows, and grave old
Ones two, by your leave care not so
much for talking; if you come once to
them you must do, and do, and do again,
Again, and again, all's two little, you'l
finde it.
Velas.
Come, friend, you mock my miseries.
Lodov.
It's a fine laughing matter
when the best and most approved souldier
of the world, should be so heart-sick
for love of a placket: Well I have
sent your wise servant (for fools are best
to be trusted in womens things) to my
couzen Shaparoon, and by him your second
letter, you shall shortly hear what
news: My couzen is excellently traded
in these mortal businesses of flesh and
blood, and will hardly come of with two
denials.
Velas.
If she prevail, Lodovico—
Lodov.
What then? Ply your occupation
when you come to't, 'tis a fit season
of the year, women are hony-moon
if a man could jump with them at the
instant, and prick 'em in the right vain;
else this Queen would never have sav'd
a Traytor from the block, and suddenly
made him her King and Husband.
But no more of that, there's danger
in't; Y'are sick you say?
Velas.
Pierc't through with fiery darts,
much worse then death.
Lodov.
Why your onely present remedy
is, then as soon as you can, to
quench those fires in the watry Channels
of qualification: soft, no more
words, behold a prodegy.
Florish.
Enter Colonnello, Almada bare, Alphonso and the Queen Crowned, Herophil, Petruchi with a Guard, the King and Queen take their States.
All.
Long live Alphonso King of Arragon.
Alph.
Then we are Soveraign.
Qu.
As free, as I by birth:
I yeeld to you (my Lord) my Crown, my Heart,
My People, my Obedience; In exchange
What I demand is Love.
Alph.
You cannot miss it,
There is but one thing that all humane power
Or malice of the Devil could set a broach,
To work on for a breach 'twixt you and me.
Qu.
One thing! Why, is there one
thing then, my Lord?
Alph.
Yes, and 'tis onely this; y'are
still a woman.
Qu.
A woman! Said you so, sir.
Alph.
I confess
You have deserv'd more service, more regard
From me, in my particular, then life
Can thank you for; and that you may conceive
My fair acknowledgment; although 'tis true,
I might command; yet I will make a suit,
An earnest suit t'ee.
It must then be granted.
Alph.
That to redeem a while some serious thoughts
Which have misdeem'd your sex. You'l be content
I be a married Batchelor one sennight.
You cannot but conceive.
Col.
How's this?
Petr.
Fine work.
Qu.
Alas my Lord, this needs no publick
mention.
Alph.
Nay, Madam, hear me, That our our Courts be kept
Under a several roof; that you and I
May not for such a short time, come together.
Qu.
I understand you not.
Alph.
Your patience, Madam,
You interrupt me, That no message pass
Of commendation, questioning our healths,
Our sleeps, our actions, or what else belongs
To common curtesie, 'twixt friend, and friend.
You must be pleas'd to grant it, I'll have it so.
Qu.
No message of commends!
Alph.
Phew, you demur,
It argues your distrust.
Qu.
I am content
The King should be obeyed. Pray heaven all be well.
Alph.
Velasco, thou wer't he didst conquer me,
Didst take me prisoner? wer't in that the means
To raise me up thus high. I thank thee for't;
I thought to honour thee in a defence
Of the Queens beauty; but wee'l now deferr't.
Yet hand your mistris, lead her to the Court,
We and our Lords will follow, there wee'l part;
A seven dayes absence cannot seem but short.
Ex. all.
| The Queen, or The Excellency of Her Sex | |