 | Adrasta : or, the Womans Spleene, And Loves Conqvest |  |
Actus 2.
Scena 1.
Enter Mistris Frailware and Mistris Abigail.Mistris Frail.
Ile ensure you 'tis true Mistris Abigail, my Husband was call'd
from my side at midnight by the Dukes Pursivant at Armes,
commanded to bring his weapon ready with him, because they
would reprehend my Ladie Iulia's daughter in her bed; nay, I
am serv'd so many times in the yeare; and if it were not for a little
honour wee have by being the Constables wife of the Parish, or
leave to build a new Pue in the Lecture house, or meeting at the
Quest-house sometimes; wee had better never bee in authoritie,
than have so many hewings and cryings, such pasportings; that
the whole yeare while our Husbands be Magistrates, we be very
widdowes, for any feeling we have of thē; and if we had not their
company in the day sometimes, we should eene forget wee were
maried: 'tis too true Mistris Abigail: but you have a happy turne.
Mistris Abig.
Indeed Mistris Frailware our Husbands should
not be troubled with common businesse; and Master Damasippus
does meditate and practise his Principles by my side till nine a
Clock many times. But I pray, what did you heare was the cause
of my Lady Iulia's daughters contamination?
Mistris Frail.
O, why shee was in love with my young Lord
Lucilio, and would have, God blesse us, stabb'd the Duke with a
panado, and then be marry'd where the Dutches would or no.
Mistris Abig.
Now Iove forfend it! How desperate be these
princock Gentlewomen when they be in love! they'll venture upon
any weapons: I marvell themselves be not afraid of stabbing:
I warrant you shee'll to the Rock for it.
Mistris Frail.
I cannot tell that; but a friend I have in the
Court was here before breake of day and told me all.
Mistris Abig.
Lord Mistris Frailware have you any friends in
the Court?
I these seven years, Mistris Abigail, have I had
friends there, and acquaintance too, I thanke my beautie, three
yeares before I was marri'd. Ile tell you Mistris Abigail, these
Courtiers be the finest, sweetest smelling Gentlemen that be; they
will have some friends in the City now and then, for varieties
sake, but they'll pick and chuse: and for mine owne part Ile ensure
you, that before I was marry'd, of a browne-wench, marke
what I say, to speake of a browne-wench, I was as sweet a creature
as liv'd. There was a Nobleman here in Florence—I, there
was a Knight too that would eate but little meate except—how
ever it was my hap to sell figges in the Citie; Ile ensure you that
my flesh was so tender, that if a fellow with a strong breath had
kiss'd me, all my lips would have blister'd. I wore my silke Stockins
then, and my Bodkins of beaten Gold, I thanke my own wit,
and had Velvet Cloakes, and Velvet Coloches come to see mee.
Mistris Abig.
Doubtlesse you were one of the happiest living,
to have such blessings: I would to heavens my husband, or I, might
have an Office under these Courtiers, that I might have friends at
Court too.
Mistris Frail.
Ile ensure you Mistris Abigail, many of 'hem
be able to doe a woman a good pleasure sometimes; and yet there
be some againe that promise more than all their strength can performe
too, when they be put to it; for alas; Courtiers doe for so
many, that they cannot doe for all: for mine owne part, I have
try'd 'hem, and try'd 'hem agen; and some of 'hem have stood to
mee very sufficiently and friendly, when I have come to see the
Masking and Beare-baiting there.
Mistris Abig.
God's my pitty, is there Beare-baiting at Court?
doe the Ladies love Beare-baiting?
Mistris Frail.
O, abomination: they'll so shift for corners
and places to be at it, that their waiting gentlewomen can seldome
come to the pastime. And how does your good husband Master
Damasippus?
Mistris Abig.
In good deed la not well: hee has beene ill at
ease ever since t'other night.
Mistris Fra.
Ah sweet man! he does so labour, and labour to
fill us with moralitie, that hee's ee'n tyr'd out in the Citie amongst
us.
Master Frail.
Fie upon't: how heavy this authoritie sits upon
us! ever since midnight in the Dukes businesse! but it stands us
upō it; 'tis for the credit of the City: we must doe more than one
bare Office, or wee cannot bee good subjects. Here take in my
weapon.
Exit man.
Mistris Frail.
I'faith 'tis a fine time o'day to come home at:
Gods my precious, doe you thinke to leave me so still? from
twelve a Clock till I rise I must lie alone dreaming, and dreaming,
sometimes that you are dead; sometimes that I am with childe,
and a lust for a thing that I cannot have; sometimes again that you
have falne downe the Stayres, and broke your back; and such fearfull
dreames that I cannot rest an houre, because I can doe nothing
but dreame.
Master Frail.
O, good wife! we be for this yeare Magistrates
Officers of place, men of imployment, the upholders of the Citie,
the eyes of the Common-wealth: and therefore when matters of
State call, wee must come with wisedome, and with severity answer
our Vocation.
Mistris Frail.
Focation me no Vocation: for as true as I am
marry'd, if you put me in such frights by going away, and leaving
mee in the darke, Ile get me a bedfellow shall stick closer to mee,
so I will; cannot you have a Deputy as well as an Alderman? I
hope you are in authority too.
Mistris Abig.
O patience deare Mistris Frailware! patience
with your Spouse: my husband told me that patience was one of
the ten morall vertues.
Mistris Frail.
I Mistris Abigail, if a woman had such a husband
as you have, that were able to put patience into a woman;
she might easily be content and have mortall vertues enough too.
Master Frail.
Nay prethee Duck be quiet: when the Sessions
are past wee shall have more leisure; meane while lets in, and
drinke this fury over in a cup of Canary. Come Mistris Abigail.
Exeunt.
Lucil.
Let it suffice Antonio that thy friend
Entreats thy silence; nor let thy curious love
Question our farther projects; leave to enquire
Till time and rumour shall disclose the Plot
Of my intentions, whose unexpected end
Shall stand beyond preventions murdering sight,
And turne the edge of spleene upon it selfe:
Thus much I will impart unto thy faith;
What fits thee not to know, leave to desire.
Anto.
My Lord impute it not to curiousnesse
That I have urg'd your patience to unfold
What you intend; for by the hallowed name
Of zealous friendship, which my heart retaines
Engrav'd by your deserts, 'tis only love
That makes me thus seeme jealous of your good
However would your Grace but try my faith
By making it a partner in your ils,
Till having pass'd these stormes. and beene approv'd
Inviolably firme, it may deserve
The name of friend to which't has long aspir'd,
Lucil.
Nay, now thou complement'st and dost afflict
The tender love thy faith hath bred in me.
I tell thee friend I must not trust the ayre
'Twixt thee and mee; the nights concealing shades
Shall never hear't disclos'd: not that I feare
Thy friendly silence; but the barren plot
Of my invention, will admit but me
Into the doubtfull scene; I must alone
Finish the Act my hopelesse love began.
O my Antonio! could my sorrowes poure
Into thy breast but halfe what I conceive,
What could the spleene of potent envy adde
To the vast heapes of mischiefe, that doe lie
Vpon my groveling fortunes, now cast downe
Beneath the base of miserie and griefe?
Frozen into a stone with strong respect
Of filiall duty, and see Althea dye,
Throwne downe by my ambitious love, that aym'd
At her transcendent vertues. This wounds my heart.
And puts a fire to the cold melancholy
That hath so long possess'd my chillied spirits,
And bids them seeke revenge, that when fraud thinks.
To seize upon the neck of innocence,
The repercussive flame that will result
From their abhorred deeds, shall singe their wings,
And make them fall as low as were their actions,
Where they shall lye and view the ugly shapes
Of all those mischiefes that attend oppression.
But now conceale me friend, and be no more
Inquisitive of the particulars,
Report will soone divulge the scope of all.
If absence cause inquiry after mee,
Let fall some speeches that I am withdrawne
To a retired privatenesse awhile,
Vntill Althea's Tragedy be o'r,
Not able to affront my ruin'd hopes.
Nor stand Spectator at her guiltlesse death.
So fare thee well, and if we never meete
Remember that I liv'd and dy'd thy friend.
Anto.
Doe not torment my soule, but let me share
Those passages of danger, that oppose
Their hideous jawes against your innocent hopes;
For at no greater rate man sels his breath,
Then with a friend to buy a faithfull death.
Luci.
Thy words Antonio cannot adde an Atome
To the full love that's harbour'd in my breast
Of thy true reall worth: then be content.
And leave me, for 'tis impossible that more
Than my unhappy selfe can bee contain'd
Or have an Action within the narrow limits
Of my designes.
Anto.
Then thus I take my leave
With as much feeling paine, as if my soule
Farewell my Lord, my vowes and wishes guard you
From awkward Fate, whil'st I 'twixt hope and feare
Attend the issue of these strange attempts.
Exit Antonio:
Lucil.
So now Lucilio arme thy selfe for death,
That from thy blood she may regaine a life
And freedome, whom thy weake affection sold
To undeserved slaughter and black infamy.
Immoved powers! we must not aske you why
And yet methinkes I could expostulate
The reason of this mixture in the frame
Of all our Vniverse! why every perfect good
Is girt with such a multitude of ils?
Not the most sacred and puissant Throne
Of divine Iustice (whose Majestick forme
Beares a resemblance of that Power Supreme
That equals Kings and Slaves, by giving each
Deserved vengeance for their actions
Can stand secure, but all the brood of hell,
Bribes, Respects, Envy, and what e'r perverts
The strictest line of vertuous equity,
Will presse up to the Iudgement Seat, and there
Transforme the beauteous picture of the Godhead
Into the hatefull shapes of tyrannie,
Of blood and murder—But I forget my self,
And like en angry woman, chide the Heavens,
When I should doe. Fortune and stealth assist
My just adventures; and a friendly sleepe
Seise all the eyes and eares that would pursue
Our harmlesse Stratagems. This is the window,
If my directions faile not, that does imprison her,
Whom Vertue, Nature, and the mild aspect
Of all the Constellations sweat to make
A free-borne Empresse—
He throwes a stone up to the window; Althea lookes out,
Alth.
Whose that?
Lucil.
Lucilio.
O my deare Lord!
Lucil.
How fares my Althea?
Alth.
As one that lives but in the armes of death,
And like a frost-kill'd worme is halfe reviv'd
By your faire presence, whose desired sight
Makes a warme blood post through my trembling veins
To tell my heart this newes, that ere I die
I once shall speake to you: But I must chide
Youe Grace my Lord, that would so staine your love
With soulest spots of blood.
Lucil.
Blood to their soules that thought it, for by
The ne'r appaled heart of innocence,
The new-borne babes first smiles were ne'r more chaste
Then was my breast frō thoughts of murder. O Althea!
What will a woman loath, that's all possest
With wrath, and has the killing voyce of Iustice
Tun'd to pronounce her mercilesse revenge?
The sword by her steel'd conscience edg'd to slaughter,
And undefended lives to worke upon?
Alth.
It was your seale and hand that did perswade
Me to the murder, but my selfe return'd
Disswasive arguments to beate you from't.
Lucil.
It was my seale, which by my mothers charge
'Tis thought the Page stole out, without suspect,
As I conceive, of mischiefe; all the rest
Was meerly counterfeit. But bee advis'd,
And I will choake the hungry throat of Treason,
That gapes for blood, with such a working pill,
As it shall loath to swallow, and vomit up
Their bloody plots in sick repentance.
Alth.
No my dearest Lord, let me in contentment die,
Since you are innocent, and in my Tombe
Bury your danger, that have thus long sate
A heavy burden to your happinesse.
Lucil.
Long maist thou live untill the gods, Althea,
Shall summon thee from hence to make a starre,
And grant Commission to the winged Post
Of heaven, to steale away thy soule in sleepe:
That Divine mould was not ordain'd to suffer
Alth.
'Twill sweeten much the bitterst throes of death
When I shall thinke my labouring soule does worke
For my Lucilio's rest: then let my guiltlesse Ghost
Securely passe up to the fields of peace,
For I am weary and would gladly die.
Lucil.
Vrge it no more, the very sound of death
Wish'd to thy innocence, comes like a clappe
Of armed thunder to mine eares, and thou
Shalt live, though I should search the utmost tortures
Tyrannie did ere invent, to find a death
Might ransome thee: and therefore if thy love
Does yet respect Lucilio's constancy,
Resolve and second mee: Dispute no more,
But make some meanes to let me downe a line,
That I may fasten this disguise unto it.
She lets downe a line, to which he fastens the disguise,
There draw it up, and put it on with speed,
Suspitions eye dogs every step I tread.
She drawes up the bagge, and while she is cloathing.
How strong is sad affliction on my State!
When I must steale, a death, and thinke me blest if none
Doe interrupt my passage to destruction.
Oh that the paths of Fate so strange and invious
Should lead us into life, and through a Maze
Of chances, bring us to such unpassable periods,
That we must leape the bankes, and give our breath
To shunne the ills that doe incounter us.
Come, have you yet dispatch'd?
Alth.
I have my Lord; but what of this?
Lucil.
Then once more lend your line.
Having againe let downe the Line, she drawes up a Ladder of Cords.
Fasten those Hookes to your window, and come downe.
Shee fastens the Hookes above, he below: And then coming downe he receives her.
But your fall gentler. So: Now flie Althea,
And live as happy as my unhappy love
Had made thee miserable: time may bee
More friendly to thee, and beget some meanes
That thou maist one day sit amidst thy friends—
Nay, doe not weep Althea; thou shalt see
This will worke both our freedomes; and if I die,
My silent Ghost shall in the pleasingst formes
At mid-noon dayes come oft to visit thee.
Farewell—
They kisse, and he offers to goe up.
Alth.
What meanes your Grace?
Lucil.
To out-runne trechery, and winne a Goale
That shall enrich my name, make envy swell,
And drowne her selfe in overflowing Gall.
Alth.
Ile meet the ugliest shapes that ever Death
Appear'd to Nature in, before Ile leave
Your Grace expos'd to danger for my life.
Lucil.
No more, for I have vow'd what I intend,
And if thou dost withstand it, to make this houre
The last of breathing to mee: therefore be gone;
Ile lie at Stake my selfe, that you may steere
No interrupted course; and since the law
Gives Virgins leave to pleade and die conceal'd,
I with this Scarfe here will bee your Attorney:
Hasten your flight, least mischiefe finde you slow,
Wee shall both fare the better. At the Parks end
By a Fount that riseth from the Chaulky Banke,
Camilla stayes with your Viaticum:
Shee'll be thy partner in thy banishment.
Once more farewell; and, if I die, for ever.
Alth.
And if you die I shall not long out-live you.
He goes up into the window.
In what a sad dilemma stands my soule
In this divulsion betweene love and danger!
Yet blesse mine eyes once more with sight of you.
Lucil.
Farewell Althea.
Alth.
Dearest Lord farewell.
Lucil.
Againe farewell Althea! all the favours
Propitious Heaven retaines, waite on thy sufferings.
Exeunt.
Enter Alastor and another Servant setting the Barre, and laying Cushions.
Alast.
Come dispatch, the Duke's at hand.
Serv.
I wonder he sits himselfe in judgement to day.
Alast.
The matter in question is great.
Serv.
Many thinke the poore Gentlewoman is innocent.
Alast.
They be fooles to say so.
Serv.
Why, is't a folly to speake what they thinke?
Alast.
I, as very a folly as to be vertuous indeed: Do'st imagin
twill gaine any thing but hate?
Serv.
Yet many dare pawne their lives that shee is guiltlesse.
Alast.
None but such as were predestin'd never to bee great;
they bee tender conscienc'd dunces: they never learn'd Esops
Fables.
Serv.
Why for that?
Alast.
Do'st not remember the tale of the Lion that banish'd
all horn'd beasts from Court?
Serv.
That was a madd Lion i'faith—
Alast.
That then the Foxe went away as banish'd too, because
if the Lion should say his prickt eares were Hornes, what then?
Serv.
But she was thought ever vertuous and modest.
Alast.
Shee would not have beene guilty so soone else: shall
a swaggering wench that will take Tobacco eight and forty times
in foure and twenty houres; talke bawdy as familiar as an Oyster
wife: retaine seven servants with good backes, and a weake husband
to keep Doggs from doore; have no priviledge above suspected
vertue?
Serv.
Faith I remember when I went to Schoole, my Master
vs'd to tell us a Verse or two out of a Poet—& hic damnatus
inani—Iudicio: I ha' forgot the Poets name, but I remembred
the Verse by another, where he instructs creatures of our faculty.
Alast.
Why what does he teach us?
Serv.
Nay nothing but tells us onely, that if wee will thrive by
service, we must be either close Panders, palpable flatterers, or
cozening Villaines.
A good Servingmans Tutor was that Poet I warrant him.
Exeunt.
Enter the Duke at one doore, with Antonio, Page, and other Attendants. At the other doore Lucilio in Altheas apparell, his face covered with a Scarfe, brought in by a Pursivant at Armes, Frailware and others with Holbeards, as a Prisoner to the Barre. Damasippus.
Attend.
Give back there, and let the prisoner stand forth.
Duke.
How did wee thinke, that when the stormes of warre
Were with our danger, care, and cost expell'd
From out these confines, and the warmth of peace
Turn'd like a Spring to shine within your bounds,
We should have sate secure? Or after all
Those toiles, that spent our strength, dry'd up our blood,
Hasten'd the hand of time to seize our haires,
Before his date, and onely in pursuit
Of your (lov'd people) safty and content;
Our owne now fainting wearinesse of age
Should taste that freedome which our labours bought
In plenteous fulnesse for the poorest swaine?
And we have clos'd the Evening of our age
Within a fearlesse slumber? But how weake
Are all the hopes that wretched Princes faine!
When in the calme of peace, while wee suppose
Our perils banish'd, and our selves ingirt
With such impenetrable love, as we
Embrace our people with, then stand our lives
Expos'd to thickest dangers, which conceal'd
Doe strike the deeper, and are warded lesse.
Such is the miserie that followes State,
That when we want abroad, we finde at home
Foes to besiege our lives. The discontent
Of some aggrieved spirits, that thinke we stand
'Twixt their desires and them; and which is worse,
The idle passions of unbridl'd youth,
Has fir'd within their thoughts, will overturne
Whole States, and climbe up to their aymed ends
By our heap'd slaughters: Yet I least had thought
Such Tragick Acts had knowne a womans breast,
Nor if I could, Althea, would your life
(Strong to retort suspition) once permit
Our least mistrust to staine your vertuous name:
And had we not by heavens appointment found
Vnder your hand and seale the firmest proofes
Of tempting our owne blood to paricide;
Suspitions strongest proofes had ne'r induc'd
Our never lightly credulous beliefe
To harbour your dislike? But should we now
Neglect our safety, and our Countries good,
When all the Providence of Fate conspires
To bring those treacherous practises to light,
Which Heaven abhorres; wee should contemne the Heavens,
Abuse that forme of justice we sustaine,
And stands as guilty of those wastefull ruines
Our cruell mildnesse gives your actions scope
To call upon your Countrey and our selves.
We therefore by the Lawes denounce you guilty
Of Treason 'gainst our person and the State.
Lucil.
Were it for life my Lord I stood to speake,
I scarce would give the breath that I must spend
To save that life: But since your Grace does know
A womans prejudice has doom'd our death,
For my names life Ile speake, and not for mine;
If infamy might die when we doe die,
I would be silent: for know my gracious Lord.
I scorne to beg a life, but come all arm'd
In such a compleate innocence, as dares
Meet angry injustice in the jawes of death,
And without trembling stand his violence.
But that these Acts of blood, these horrid crimes
Of paricide, of lust, and hellish sinne,
Which will out-live our Tombes, and make our names
Come hatefull to posterities Records,
That never yet was conscious of a wish,
'Gainst your desired safety; I must take leave
To tell your Grace, that it was meerly feign'd
By the bloody hand of Envy, to cut off
That sacred band of love the Heavens have knit
'Twixt your sonnes heart and my chaste innocence
Nor doe I taxe your justice for my death,
But doe impute it most to his fond love,
That by protests of vertue and desire,
Drew my beleeving soule to his affects;
For when my feares urg'd these ensuing ils,
His uncontain'd affection breaking forth
In signes of extreme passion, so consum'd
My powers, that had my thoughts beene cold as Snow,
His zeale pour'd out in such inflaming vowes
Would melt them.
Duke.
We must check your impudence,
That swels beyond the bounds we did expect
Your modesty should have observ'd: you wrong
Our sonne, and in our sonne our selves; know you
This hand and seale?
Lucil.
I doe my honour'd Lord,
Yet were that Hand and Seale never found guilty
Of conceiv'd wrong 'gainst or your Sonne or you.
Duke.
'Twill speake it selfe, call it to witnesse then.
One reades the Letter.
My
Lord the attempt is dangerous and foule, therefore
desist not; to enjoy the sweets our present Nuptials
would bring could I endure your hand stain'd with such an Action.
More when wee meet: feare not; but—Heaven and Fate
will second vertue. Be still your selfe, and I will rest
Yours more than mine.
ALTHEA.
Had you a priviledge to shrowd the blush
Your conscious guilt casts 'gainst the eyes of Heaven
As from our sight you doe conceale the Die
That writes your Acts in shame upon your Cheekes,
You might deny these proofes, and sweare them fain'd;
But that all-seeing power that notes the wild
And secretst passages of mans conceit,
Detesting those foule crimes of lust and blood,
Reveales your Acts. Stand therefore, and from the Seate
Of Iustice heare your doom; since your ambitious hopes
Soar'd up, and by our Blood did meane to climbe
Into that Seat which Nature and our right
Had given to us: be therefore from the Rock
Throwne with your hopes, that your example teach
How low they fall, that climbe above their reach.
And you Antonio we charge to see
The execution speedily perform'd.
Exit cum suis.
Manent Lucilio, Antonio, Page, Damasippus.
Lucil.
As sweet as cooling dew comes to the brest
Of scorched Autumne, so Deaths slumber fals
On oppress'd innocence. And good Antonio,
Since 'tis your charge to see us dead, let mee
Entreat this favour that my body be
Speedily interr'd: and pray you tell the Duke
That I request his Grace not grieve too much
Hereafter, for what I willingly now sought,
And he against his will made me to finde.
Then that I may have a little space in private
To bid the world farewell; and this is all
A dying Virgin begs, and for your friend
Lucilio's sake you must not now deny it.
Anto.
Wonder of womē! could my attemps but yeeld
Halfe what my heart conceives, these limbs should die,
As many severall deaths as they containe
Conduits of life, to make your innocence live,
For your Lucilios sake, whose woes will swell
Poore Lord, like to a winde-driven Ocean,
To some disastrous end.
Lucil.
You are deceiv'd,
Deare friend; Lucilio's woes end with my life.
Nor will a thought of griefe, a teare or sigh
Trouble his peacefull sleeps when I am dead.
But I shall straine your patience too farre, and give
The Duke a cause to blame your too much favour.
Exeunt.
The Page puls Damasippus back to speake with him.
Dam.
My little least of any thing, thou parcell of man, what's
the newes with thee?
Page.
Newes from the Fortunate Ilands Master Damasippus:
The very Elizium of your delight, and delicious Nectar of pleasure;
Mistris Ambrosia Frailware commands halfe her selfe to
your learned conceipts, and the rest to the heate of your inferiour
Moralities.
Dam.
O the odoriferous flowre of Florence! How does
shee?
Page.
In able strength and strong appetite: and earnestly entreates
this evening your presence at Supper: her Husband will
bee forc'd by Oath businesse to be absent; and therefore you must
feed her with the fruits of your company, and you shall bee fed
with the strength of confirming meates that edifie.
Dam.
Thy reward shall overtake thee: I will first accompany
this Lady to her death, and prepare and strengthen her according
to moralitie, and then I will be ready to give all moral comfort
to the sweet desires of our deare Paramour.
Exit.
Page.
Ile meet your moral comfort with such a Physicall
counter-buffe, that Ile spoile your tilting for that night i'faith.
Exit.
| Adrasta : or, the Womans Spleene, And Loves Conqvest | |