University of Virginia Library



Actus Primus

Scena prima.

Enter Lamot and Dumaine like Souldiers.
Dum.
We are not safe Lamot; this bawdie peace
Begets a war within me; our swords worn
For Ornament, not use; the Drum & Trumpet
Sing drunken Carrols, and the Canon speaks
Health, not confusion; Helmets turn'd to Cups;
Our bruised Armes administer discourse
For Tables and for Taverns, where the Souldier
Oft finds a pitty, not reliefe: I'l tell thee,
Wee'r walking images, the signes of men,
And bear about us nothing but the forme
Of man that's manly.

Lam.
Wee'r cold indeed.

Dum.
Yes, and th'ungratefull time
As coldly doth reward us, all our actions,
Attempts of valour, look'd into with eyes
Fil'd with contempt, when ye Gods ye know
It is our gifts they see yet: oh I am mad!
The very bread that lends them life to scorn us,
Our blood ha's paid for, yet demand a bit,
Or ask of this old satten belli'd sir,
Or Madam toothless with her velvet sconce,
And you shall hear their rotten lungs pronounce
The Whip and Whip-stock.



Lam.
Prethee containe thy selfe.

Dum.
Thou knowest I can;
With what an equall temper did I breath
Under the frozen climate of the North,
Where in mine armes (the sheets of war) I slept,
My bed being feather'd with the down of heaven?
I have lain down a man and rise a snow-ball.
There these have been my pastimes, which i've born
As willingly as I received them nobly.
The Queenes black envy which doth still remaine,
And peeps through every limb she bears about her,
Fated to ruine us, does not swell my Gall,
No nor this willing beggery I weare
To cloud me from her malice; by the Gods
This bastard-getting peace unspirits me,
A greater corrasive to my active soul,
Than all past ills what ever.

Lam.
As you are valiant be wise too, this is no time
To vent your passions like a woman in,
Your sword, not tongue, should speak.

Dum.
You are an expert Tutor, and I thank you;
Our wrongs would add a spirit to the dead,
And make them fight our quarrels;—but look here
Enter Landrey, and two or three insinuating Lords, busie in conference, and three or foure Petitioners.
The minion of our Queen, oh what a traine
The painted Peacock bears! death, were I Jove
But onely for this Giant.

Peti.
Good your honor, our wives and Children,
Good your honour hear us.

Lan.
Where are our slaves? keep off these dregs of men,
The scum and out-cast of the world; bring round my chariot
To the postern Gate; these bell-mouth'd Rascals
Split mine eares with noise, make hast before
Lest my great Mistress wait my comming.

Exit.


Peti.
Good your honour.

[Exeunt.
1 Peti.
The devill take your worship; we must follow.

Dum.
These are the fruits of base upstarts and flatterers.
Tell me Lamot, can this same Merchpane man
Think, or commit a sin though ne'r so horrid,
But it is candied o'r, and from his vice
Excessive praise and plaudites arise?
Were I the King, but he is wilful blind,
And by the hornes she rocks him fast asleep,
Before the wanton and hot-blooded Queene
Should have the licence but to be suspected
With such a Knight of Ginger-bread as this,
A gilded flesh-flie, I would lock her up,
Yea chain the evill Angel in a Box,
And house her like a silk-worme.

Lam.
Pardon me sir, the good old King's unable.

Dum.
And therefore must admit an upstart Page,
Now rais'd to honours by her lawless lust,
Maior of the Palace, and the Duke of France,
The next stept is the Crown; now by my life
'Twere good the King would execute them both.

Lam.
Alas he dares not, for the no chast Queene,
Is as her birth, as great in faction,
Followed and sainted by the multitude,
Whose judgement she hath linck'd unto her Purse,
And rather bought a love than found it:
She ha's a working spirit, an active braine,
Apt to conceive, and wary in her wiles;
Besides, her Sons, the pillowes of the State,
Support her like an Atlas, where she sits,
And like the heavens commands our fates beneath her;
She is the greater light, the King a star
That onely glares but through her influence.

A florish within,
Dum.
Hark, the thunder of the world, how out of tune,
This peace corrupting all things makes them speak,
What means this most adulterate noise?



Lam.
Why, are you ignorant?
This is a night of jubile, and the King
Solemnly feasts for his wars happie successe,
Besides his Sons and he are knit againe;
We shall have Masks and Revelling to night.

Dum.
Now the great Gods confound this pickthanck noise,
The Drums and Trumpets are turn'd flatterers,
And Mars himself a Bawd to grace their riot.
O I am mad, this grates my very Gall.

Lam.
What man, bear up;
Although I wish all civill discord hence,
Yet I do hope a time wherein we Souldiers,
Shall like a moving wall of living steel,
Defend this City that offends us now.

Dum.
My thoughts keep not your road, I think.
The devilish spirit of the haughty Queen,
Will find imployment for us yet, her brain
Is very active in exploits that breed
The Souldiers harvest, war and dissention.

Enter the Eunuch with bags of Gold, gives to each of them one, and after a little pause departs.
Lam.
What vision's this? 'tis Gold right and fair,
Sure I dreame not.

Dum.
I cannot tell, but he that takes this from me,
Shall soon perceive I do not sleep nor slumber.

Lam.
It was the Eunuch.

Dum.
That needs no deciding.

Lam.
What speaks the Paper left behind?
If it be Chorus to this dum shew, read it Dumaine.
The Letter.

As you are Souldiers truly valiant, I honor you, as poor, I pitty
you; therefore have sent you that wil render you as compleat
Courtiers, as undaunted Souldiers: we know your
present fortunes shame your parentage, which was not
onely great in it self, but fortunate in so fair an off-spring:
Dumaine, Lamot, let it suffice we know ye; for our eye is every



where: whilst I remember your worths, I shall forget your
parents injuries; feare nothing, for your hitherto concealement,
i'l get your pardons, and whilst I breath, breath your
kind Mistress: if you dare trust me, appear at Court to night
so adorned, as shall become your honours, our friends.

Fredigond.


Lamot.
The Queene?

Dum.
We are betraid Lamot, what shall we do?

Lam.
Wee'l take the gracious proffer of the Queene,
Shee's princely vow'd our friend; besides what ill
Can we expect from her, who might have sent
Her murdering ministers and slaine us here,
If she intended foul play? but she's noble.

Dum.
Noble, grant her so, yet—

Lam.
What yet?

Dum.
Her murdred Brothers memory.—

Lam.
When he fell, we were too young for traytors.

Dum.
But not for torments, had we been apprehended;
For in the high displeasure of the Queen,
All our posterity was doom'd, some felt the wheel,
Some wrack'd, some hang'd, others impal'd on stakes,
With divers strange and horrid formes of death,
That you'd have thought, and fitly thought it too,
That all the torments which the Poets feign
The damned spirits exercise in Hell,
Had here been put in execution;
And had not we been then in Witenburge,
Beyond the fury of her mortall spleen,
We had added to the number of the dead;
Then think you still we shall not?

Lam.
Now by my life it's murder to suspect her,
Our lives are all that we can lose, our fame,
Not time nor Art can murder, so wee'l venture.

Exeunt omnes.

Scena II.

Enter Fredigond the Queene, and the Eunuch.
Qu.
What conference did they maintain with thee?

Eu.
None farther than the language of their eyes,


They look'd on me as if they ment me thanks,
Which their amazement rob'd me off.

Qu.
Spake they not then at all?

Eu.
No not a word,
They seem'd to me as if they knew no language.

Qu.
You know them not?

Eu.
No dearest Lady, for th'appear'd to me
Like to the silent postures in the Arras,
Onely the form of men with stranger faces.

Qu.
Take u'm then, they are our enemies,
Whom I have angled with that golden bait;
Their parents waded in my Brothers blood,
For which i'l be reveng'd of all their kin,
Could they increase as oft as I would kill,
I'd ever kill that they might still increase:
Draw the curtain and shew the picture.
This picture drawn by an Italian
(Which still I keep to whet mine anger)
Does represent the murder of my brother,
For ravishing this beautious piece of ill;
A bloody and a terrible mistake,
To murder Clodimir for Clotarrs fact,
For which behold how Fredigond's reveng'd,
This old Dumaine and father to this maid,
With all his kindred, sociates and alies,
(These brace of wicked ones, and that ravisht whore,
The fair and fatall cause of these events
Onely excepted) are here, here in this picture:
Is't not a brave sight, how doth the object like thee?
How prettily that babie hangs by th'heels,
Sprawling his Armes about his mothers wombe,
As if againe he sought for shelter there?
Here's one bereft of hands, and this of tongue,
Finger thy Lute Maria, sing out Isabel:
Scopticè.
Hark, hark Castrato, the musick of the Sphæres,
O ravishing touch, hark how the others voice
Ecchoes the Lute, Is't not a divine softnesse?
Ha ah ha, I do expect they now should rayle extremely;
I prethee scold at me good Isabel,


A little of the woman; no Maria;
Within the cloathed circle of mine eyes,
Anchor thy fingers, alas, thy nailes are par'd,
Nor has poor Isabel a tongue to scold with,
And here's the Granddam with her glares out;
Saddle her nose with spectacles, or else
Shee'l miss her way to the infernall pit.
Tow horie Gray-berds in this angle lyes,
Will find their way to Hell without their eyes,
Villaines that kil'd my Brother; how does this like thee?
To execute men in picture, is't not rare?

(Stabs the picture
Eu.
Were but Chrotilda here, and these two youngsters,
It were a pastime for the Gods to gaze on.
Oh were I but a man as others are,
As kind and open-handed nature made me,
With Organs apt and fit for womans service.

Qu.
What if thou wert?

Eu.
What if I were great Queene?
I'd search the Deserts, Mountaines, Vallies, Plaines,
Till I had met Chrotilda, whom by force
I'd make to mingle with these sootie limbs,
Till I had got on her one like to me,
Whom I would nourish for the Dumaine line;
That time to come might story to the world,
They had the Devil to their Grand-father.

Qu.
I find thee Eunuch apt for my imployments,
Therefore I will unclaspe my soul to thee,
I've alwaies found thee trusty, and I love thee.

Eu.
With thanks I ever must acknowledge it,
And lay my life at my great Mistress feet,
Kneels.
To spend it when she pleases.

Qu.
We need it not
As yet Castrato, but we may hereafter.
See, their's the plat-forme of great Childricks death;
And they which must be thought his murderers,
Our Enemies, and now new Courtiers,
Whom hitherto I have reserv'd for policy;


First, that they take away the guilt from us;
Next, being apprehended, studying deaths,
The heads of all our Engineers shall sit
T'invent unheard of torments for the slaves;
I long to see them here, here in this frame,
Greeting their kindreds bones.

Eu.
You are the Goddess of invention.

Qu.
Then i'l commend thee to my elder Son,
Where thou shalt wind into his secret thoughts;
As for the younger Boy let me alone;
And when we have them on the hip, they shall
Follow their Fathers unto Hells-black-Hall

Eu.
Still better.

Qu.
Will not this be brave? ha, how lik'st thou this?
Now by this light I'm taken strangely with thee,
Come kiss me, kiss me sirra, tremble not.
(Queene kisses him.)
Fie, what a January lip thou hast,
A paire of Iscicles, sure thou hast bought
A paire of cast lips of the chast Diana's,
Thy blood's meere snow-broth, kiss me again:
(again)
Now see if you can find these gallants forth,
And bring them to our presence.
Exit Eunuch.
O sir y'are welcome,
Enter Landrey.
Your visits have been freer, but I grow old,
And you command the beauties of the time.

Lan.
What means my noble Mistress? think you the blood
Runnes so degenerate within these veins,
To stoop to an inferiour imbrace,
When I injoy the best.

Qu.
We are betraid:
I'l tell thee a good jest Landrey, pray marke;
This morning dressing my head my husband came,
And with his switch (for he was then to hunt)
A gentle stroke he gave me on the back;
My fancy busied then to make me fine,
Supposing it was you that sported so,
(Not dreaming that the dotard was so neere)


Cri'd, well my Landrey, in story we still find,
The best Knights strike before and not behind:
The King who alwaies understood too fast,
Quits suddenly my Chamber; what he intends
I cannot guess, unless it be our deaths,
Which if he speedily perform not, then
Know he shall never, for this night concludes him.
His Sons I weigh like him, they have rebell'd,
And taken spirit of late t'oppose my will,
And contradict my pleasures in thy love,
For which it is not safe that they should live;
The Kingdoms Heir shall be a boy of thine,
And Kings and Queens shall follow in thy Line.

Eu.
Madam, here are the Gentlemen.

Enter Dumaine & Lamot very brave, the Eunuch.
Qu.
Y'are welcome to the Court, and us, brave spirits y'are welcome.
Take a Queenes word y'are welcome.

Ambo.
Your highnesse is as full of grace as mercy.

Qu.
Rise and follow us, wee'l be your Guardian and
Protectres.

Lan.
What are these?

(Aside
Qu.
Sheep for my shambles, whom I have fatted up
Onely for slaughter; things are on foot decreed,
Shall make some smile to night, and others bleed.

Exeunt omnes

Scena III.

Enter Clovis at one door, Aphelia and a Page at the other with a Torch.
Clo.
My best Mistress,
What Angel brought you hither? for I know
Millions attend your goodness.

Aph.
My Lord?

Clo.
Why do you cast such stranger eyes upon me?
You were not wont to cloth your browes with scorn,
Nor dart such deadly looks; can my mistress
Be angry with her servant? my offence,
If slowness in my visits, i'l hereafter


Grow to your threshold; why weep you now?
Trust me divinest fair thine eyes seed pearl,
Bracelets for Gods to wear about their armes.

Aph.
I am too fond, and yet he swears he loves me,
I have believ'd him too, for I have found
A Godlike nature in him, and a truth
Hitherto constant.

Clo.
Sweetest fair the cause?

Aph.
If this should be dissembled, not your heart,
And having won my souls affection,
Should on a judgement more retir'd to state,
Smile at your perjuries, and leave me in love,
What ill-bred tales the world would make of me.

Clo.
That jealousie i'l strangle; take this Ring,
As I that Diamond dazel'd by thine eyes,
Whose beauty sickned 'cause ecclips'd by thine;
Be these the mutual pledges of our love,
Our Marriage before our Marriage,
And curs'd be he that separates our love,
Though France be one, or what is greater Jove.
Are your fears over now?

Alp.
My Lord, I dare no ill, and therefore doubt none.

Enter King, Queen, Clotaire, Landrey, Dumain, Lamot, Eunuch, Lords, Ladyes, Guard.
King.
Approach our person nearer, for methinks
Y'have honest faces, if your hearts keep touch
T'your outward semblance, y'are a pair
Nothing but death shall force from me.

Qu.
Good, good, this Physick works.

(aside.
Eu.
Madam, is't done?

Qu.
I my black Genius, such a fatal dram
I have administred, will wing his soul
With expedition to the other world,
His part essential like a wearied Ghost
This night forsakes her Inn, when fled and gone,
Who knows where it shall lodge: mark his looks,
See'st thou not death thron'd in his hollow eye,


Great tyrant over Nature?

Eu.
With looks inquisite I have beheld him,
But see no alteration.

Qu.
Thou art a fool, and wantst the optique nerves
To pry into my Arts; where I lay trains,
Death comes before the grief, the sulphurous match
Destroyes the powder with a motion slow
To what I work with; as Autumn aged leaf,
In youth the prime and glory of the Grove,
Not to be graspt with hand, falls with a puff,
And what we could not touch but now, we tread on,
So Childrick

King.
Lend me thine arm Dumain, I now not what,
But on the sudden—

(Dumain & Lamot about the King.
Qu.
How the Nats play and buz about the fire
Must consume them.

Eu.
'Tis rare, observant Cockscomes.

Clota.
What Star's unshe'rd and walks upon the Earth,
Making our night a noon? methinks her sight
Does cure blindnesse, and lend darknesse light,
Castrato—

(Clotair pulls the Eunuch aside.
Eu.
No more, we are observ'd, my Lord.

Clot.
What Ladyes that?

Eu.
That French India with a Mine upon her back,
With whom your Brother holds discourse?

Clot.
The same.

Eu.
The chast and beautifull Aphelia.

Clot.
Indeed shee's wondrous fair, nature hath much
Befriended her, art sure shee's honest?

Eu.
Snow's not purer;
No vestal Virgin at the Aultar bears
A soul so incorrupt, so void of flame
That's loosly active.

Clot.
Castrato, be as our self, get but that Lady for me;
Thou understand'st me.

Eu.
Shee dotes upon your Brother, by which means
I'l think upon some plot.

Clot.
The Masque ended wee will talk further on't.



King.
Defer our pastimes till another night,
I am not well at ease.

Duma.
Lights, lights for his Majesty.

Clot. & Clovis.
How is it with your grace our Royal Father?

Eu.
Dumain, Lamot, your feet are in the snare,
Fredigond hunts, and when she hunts beware.

(The Eunuch talks with Aphelia aside.
Lam.
What sayes the slave?

Dum.
No matter what, mind we his Majesty.

King.
There is an Ætna in me,
The air I draw returnes illuminate,
Philosophy thy Element of fire's here.

Qu.
His Grace grows worse and worse, support him
Gently friends; O my dear Husband, O my gentle Lord.

Exeunt omnes.
Aphe.
I credit your report, & will obey,
(Manent Eunuch and Aphelia.
His mind is honourable like his parentage;
His single name has arm'd me, pray lead on.

(Exe. Alp. & Eu.
Lam.
O woe, woe, woe.

Enter Lamot.
Clot.
Horror and death.

Enter Clotaire.
Clo.
O dismall fatal hour.

(Enter Clovis, Fredigond, the Queen Landry, Dumain, Guard Attendants.
Qu.
with Childrick end
The World.

Dum.
Have patience gentle Queen.

Qu.
Stand from me,
Preach patience to the Sea when the rude windes
Swell her ambitious billowes 'bove the clouds,
And if thou tutor'st them to peace and silence,
I'l be as calm as they.

Clot.
The treason here, and not the Traytor,
Quite confounds me.

Qu.
Doubt ye the Traytors?
I've brought a pair of Vipers to the Court,
Warm'd and reliev'd them with a sting to kill us;
Who could be Authors of this deed but they?
His new bosome friends have slain him,
Lay hands upon the villains.

Dum.
We are betraid Lamot, basely beset with snares.

Lam.
Justice fight thou my cause with thine own sword.



Qu.
O villains, would ye let them scape?
Two men to passe the strength of all our guard?
This mads me.

Clot.
Make after them and bring them back,
Or by my Fathers soul ye sleep your last.
Aphelia, oh Aphelia, shee'l not from my mind,
I may command her now.
Come Mother, Brother, Friends, come let us go,
King ne'r receiv'd a Crown so full of woe.

Exe. omnes.