 | The Noble Stranger |  |
ACTUS SECUNDUS.
Enter Honorio, and a Boy.Hon.
And with resplendant raies guilds o're the top
Of yon aspiring hill: the pearly dew
Hangs on the Rose buds top, and knowing it
Must be anon exhaled, for sorrow shrinkes
It selfe into a teare: the early Larke,
With other winged Choristers of the Morne,
Chanting their Anthems in harmonious aires:
Let those whose sleepes are sound, and quiet as
The dead of night, rise and partake those sweets
This place affords, they are not for me to joy in,
That her window! Come boy, breath
Out my sorrowes in a mournfull aire.
Song.
Boy.
Whether were it greater paine,
Silent in thy flames to dye,
Or say I love, and she deny.
Shou'd she scorne when she does know
Thy affection; thou shalt prove
A glorious Martyrdome for love.
She may burne as well as thou:
On then tim'rous heart proceed:
For wounds are death that inward bleed.
Enter Princesse above.
Prin.
What Harmony is that? say who's below?
Hon.
The admirer of your vertues Madam.
Prin.
Who, Honorio?
Hon.
The same.
Prin.
Was it you that sent those pleasant accents to me?
Hon.
My duty made me strive to be the first
This morning might salute your eare.
Prin.
I shall find a time for recompence:
'Tis a pleasant walk you tread,
Keep on your path.
Hon.
Your humble Honourer; oh love be now
Propitious, and flatter nor my poore
Credulous heart, with a gentle gale of
Comfort, and suffer't to split against
The Rocks of ruine; no, thy heart I know
Is tender as thy youth, and does relent.
Enter Fabianus.
My friend, I am too narrow to containe
My joy, thou'rt happily arriv'd to beare
A part; I have seene the Princesse.
Fab.
Is her highnesse so early stirring?
Hon.
Yes Fabianus, and my heart that now
Felt heavier to me than an Atlas load
Shee ha's rarifi'd to ayre.
Enter Princesse and Clara.
Fab.
See she's descended, with her the Mistris
Of my heart.
Hon.
Thus have I seene the dawning day break from
The Easterne hills.
Prin.
Morrow Fabianus.
Fab.
Your creature Madam: Lady vouchsafe your lip,
To Clara
With the Exchange of some few words in private.
Prin.
You keep still your constant walke Honorio:
'Twas a pleasing ayre you last presented;
Me thought it bare a sound of Love.
Hon.
Madam, be pleased to give it some other
Stile; for me to sound unto your eare that name
Were a presumption farre above his, that
Stole the fire from Heaven.
Prin.
You seeme modest, to encrease your value:
Come I know you are in love, who is't
You serve?
Fab.
Madam, beleeve my tongue was never
Stranger to my heart; at every looke you
Doe create new flames; and like the vestall
Hearth, which once extinguisht, nought
Cou'd replenish, except like Holy fire
Your eyes does wound my heart, and with a smile
You cure againe.
Cla.
Courtiers are so prone, on each slight fancy
Of a Ladyes humour, to beleeve themselves
The onely object of their loves, that we,
Nor know how to give look or smile, but straight
With flattering Oratory they lay traines
Fab.
O harbour not a thought so wicked of
My love, lest the entertainment (being
Wrongfully suppos'd) staine the immaculate
Purity of your soule.
Cla.
Sir you heare not me accuse you, but in
An affaire so important as is the cause
Of love, she that doubts not, shall nere attaine
To surety.
Hon.
Pardon, Madam, if with unhallowed breath
I sound what may prove offensive to your eare,
Blame not my forward zeale, you being
The Motive.
Prin.
On then.
Hon.
I love you Madam.
Prin.
Ha!
Hon.
Again I breath my soule—I love you Madam.
Prin.
Twas boldly utter'd, what prompts you to this
Insolence?
Hon.
Oh love, I'me blasted.
Fab.
The Princesse seems mov'd.
Cla.
But a storm, 'twill soone be over.
Prin.
Are you, because a stranger, ignorant
Of our Lawes, which makes it death for any man
To move affection to her, who is
Heire to th'Crowne? if so, you may plead excuse:
Else know you are guilty of a Crime, will pluck
The Lawes severity on your head.
Hon.
Can Law or torture fright his soule, who is
Every houre extended on the wrack:
No, since you despise me, 'twill adde unto
My future happinesse, when Love shall know
I'me one that dy'd your Martyr, and for my
Body, when entomb'd in earth, a Cypres Tree
Shall spring up from my grave, under whose shade
Such mournfull lovers, as are punish'd
With disdaine, shall come and pay sad tribute
Of their teares, which by that charitable
Shall be congeal'd, and raise to my sad
Memory a lasting Monument of
Transparent Christall.
Prin.
Nay cleare your brow, I'me none of those that take
Pleasure in tormenting Lovers: 'twere a
Sinne the gods themselves wou'd punish, shou'd my
Disdaine raze so faire a building; retaine
Your manly freedome, although I know it
Sutes not with my birth to give incouragement
To a Subjects love, yet we're bound to
Cherish true worth, though in persons
Of a meaner ranke.
Hon.
Oh let me adore the miracle of Nature;
You speak a soule more perfect than an Angels.
Prin.
Cease these hyperboles, and rest assured,
As time shall increase my opinion of
Your worth, I shall dispose my heart—
But secresie as you expect my love,
Or your own safety—so—farewell: Come Clara,
My Father expects us at the Temple—
Cla.
I cannot stay sir; but in that ring receive
Your answer.
Fab.
I accept it as a sentence of despaire or blisse;
—See friend
What happinesse is here contain'd.
Hon.
Hast prevail'd?
Fab.
Yes, and if thy love prospers as mine has done,
We'l both sing hymnes to Cythereas Son.
Exeunt.
Enter Callidus and Marania.
Cal.
Now Lady, your Fathers goodnesse has left you
To your owne dispose; and I, the admirer
Of your vertues, have free leave to present
My best affection; then save that creature,
Whose life depends on you, whose every
Power ownes not himselfe, but you:
Presents its first devotion, and in
A holy flame remains a sacrifice, till
You please accept it.
Mar.
I shou'd prove unto my selfe unjust,
In the neglect of one that nobly loves:
Therefore what affection I may bestow,
And yet retaine my freedome, I meane
That freedome, by which I may on just occasion
Withdraw my heart; I were ingratefull
Shou'd I not present.
Cal.
May I become the scorne of time and all
Mens hate pursue me, when I prove so foule
To give occasion you call back your love.
Mar.
Cease these hasty protestations, and
I assure my selfe the purenesse of your soule
Is without spot or blemish; and while you
So continue, I shall boast me happy ith'
Glory of such a choise.
Cal.
O let me flye into your bosome, and
On your lip confirme my happinesse, there
Study some new way of number to multiply
My blisse—the treasuries of grace and nature,
Were quite exhausted to accomplish your
Perfections.
Mar.
Fie, fie, leave for shame.
Cal.
What?
Mar.
This superfluous language; I am none
Of those Ladies that are taken with
Poetick Raptures, verses of their haire,
Flattering Acrosticks, and their names
So dis-joynted with an Anagram, 'twould
Puzzle ten Magicians to put 'hem together
Againe: I esteeme not golden language;
'Twas seldome bestow'd on man, but to
Guild a Copper soule within him.
Cal.
Can you be so cruell to deeme my
Language feign'd?
Nor am I:
I grant you love and Poesie are divine,
Commonly infus'd together, yet
Ordinarily 'tis ty'd to rules of flattery.
Cal.
Farre be it from me to speak a language
Shou'd displease your eare.
Mar.
Well, more Oratory would but bring
The rest into suspition, whether it
Be reall, let it suffice, I love you,
And if all occurrents sute my expectation,
'T shall not be long 'fore Hymen seale
The Contract
Cal.
Heeres the Courts Quotidian,
Shakes all about him.
Enter Princesse, and Clara; Hon. and Fab.
Prin.
Marania, why had we not your attendance
To th'Temple? I gesse the cause.
Cal.
'Twas my happinesse, with her Fathers leave
To hold a short discourse: I hope it does
Not offend you Madam.
Prin.
By no means: and if it were of love you
Treated, may you prosper as I wish my owne desires.
Cal.
You're bounteous Madam.
Prin.
Noble Philomusus,
Enter Philomusus.
My Fathers Court is happy in one so
Much deserving
Phil.
You too much honour me.
Prin.
I wou'd have you Fabianus and this
Noble Stranger mutually friends,
Your deserts are so much equall.
Cal.
I'me left out then:
There may be a time for a revenge.
Phil.
Lets embrace, and prove the Trium-viri of
True friendship, happy in this union:
More happy in that you have
Pleas'd to joyne us.
Cal.
Me thinks Honorio and the Princesse are
Shee smiles in his face—
Darts amorous glances—if she shou'd affect
Him now; I'de wish no deeper Precipice
To his ruine.
Phil.
Madam, the Masquers within are ready.
Prin.
Then lets away.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Mercutio, Plod, and Fled-wit.
Fled.
My sublime Mercurian! by all the Codexes of the Law,
thou art the Primum mobile of Fancy: If this gull continue but
his state of innocence, we shall have Dinners, Sack, and wenches
in the Seraglios gratis.
Plod.
Nay, and we can marry him to Flavia, weele'd drink, dance,
and revell with his wife till midnight, and make him carry the
Lanthorne.
Mer.
D'ee heare then, be advis'd by me, you two shall
with slight arguments to disswade him from the Court
worke him more into the opinion of your friendship: the
present the match, be you sure to give fire, and wee shall blow
up I warrant you Lads.
Fled.
Oracle! as I live Oracle: O I cou'd hugge thee for this,
my joviall Juvinell.
Mer.
Then be you sure, when J name the party, to feeme to extoll
her vertue, beauty, riches, and so forth. And sweare you know
her all over to a hair—which you may both with a safe Conscience
doe.
Plod.
Nay, for matter of Knowledge, one oath wou'd serve us,
and forty more.
Enter Pupillus.
Mer.
See he comes, 'fore Iove, feeling for money already—
Walke off a little—
Pup.
Right worthy Sir, may these ten Angells guard you: Oh
Celestiall pocket.
Mer.
Noble and right generous sir, I doe receive 'hem with as
much zeale as a Puritan wou'd cheat his father.
Pup.
And when, and when shall I be indoctrinated, as they say,
in these rules of wit and Courtship?
Mer.
Why when you will.
Master Pupillus?
Pup.
Whoop sir, are you here? who! and you too? and acquainted
with this Gentleman?
Fled.
All of a Messe.
Plod.
But hark you sir, one word with you: wil you leave the laudible,
credible, profitable practice of the Law, to study wit and
Courtship?
Pup.
Yes indeed will I: Doe you thinke I will bee troubled
with your Burgage, Sockage, and Feodum simplex; your French
and Latine, more barbarous than beggers Canting: and for a
Littleton, 'tis more hatefull to me than a Prayer Booke.
Plod.
Troth Master Fled-wit I know not what to say, but bona fide,
he is one non compos mentis.
Fled.
In-law I am of your opinion.
Mer.
So am not I, I commend him for't. Wou'd you have him
sit wearing out his Buttons, 'gainst his Inke-besquirted Desk, reading
of circumcised Latine in Characters, more antique than Ægyptian
Hieroglyphicks, transcribing presidents out of old sheep-skins
recorded in Anno Sexcentesimo quarto, till his head and
Braines be as drye and hollow as his pumice-stone.
Pup.
No, no, they shall ne're bring me to it: what though my
Father was a Citizen, and a Mercer, yet my mother was a gentlewoman
borne, and who knowes but shee might have a friend at
Court like other Citizens wives, to bring their husbands custome,
and them trading: if so, there may be good reason, why I have
this Courtly itch upon me: Besides, I'me not the first whose' Father
has measured Ladies commodities by th'yard; and yet becomes
a Coach and sixe horses as well as the best o'm.
Plod.
So farre concordat cum recordo, (as a man may say) and
perhaps his Father being a landed man, some Courtier was Tenant
in Taile with his Mother.
Fled.
Very likely: but faith Master Pupillus, I cou'd wish you
wou'd not leave us.
Pup.
I tell you I wou'd not be troubled with your Conjuring
termes of Law, for the profit you get in ten Michaelmas tearms,
when your Gownes and Consciences are soyld and dabled alike.
Plod.
Believe it sir, were you not our friend, we wou'd not brook
this Scandalum Magnatum.
Pup.
Nay be not angry.
Fled.
Not we sir; because we know every man was not borne
the lesse he has the more in fashion. But what will you doe at
Court? 'tis not your five hundred a yeare will maintaine your
Masques, Playes, Revells, Races, Tennis, Cards, and In, and In
with the Ladies, besides your leash of wenches at livery, and when
all's brought to a devastation, what then?
Pup.
Tis but trading with some Merchants wife when her husband's
gone to Sea, to trafficke for Unicornes horne, and I shall never
want money to bear me standing: 'tis common amongst your
broken Cavalleers.
Mer.
He sayes right, there was one Master Had-land, a decayed
Gallant, that had spent all his meanes in those wayes you have
nam'd, and having nothing left, but the remembrance of his former
glory, strook in with one Mistris Sweet-lips a Com-fit makers
wife, and she maintaines him now as bravely as any gallant that
weares his sword ith' defence of his back-side.
Plod.
This was strange.
Pup.
Phew—talke of want and be a wit—I'me asham'd on
you.
Mer.
Nay, doe but view this gentlemans Physiognomie, does
not he looke like one that would be fortunate, or crosse the Proverbe?
does not this beard grow in forme of a Senators? Perhaps
you'l say he has not that accomplisht wit, learning, or other deserving
parts. Why tis ten to one he is the sooner preferred; no matter
for desert, that rises leisurely and by degrees, honour preferres
head-long those that have not too much wit to hinder it: Why I
have knowne a gentleman turne away his man, because hee had
more wit than himselfe. Then to see what waies there are by marriage:
a Lady of my acquaintance cast away foure or five thousand
pound upon a paire of Capering Legges, and a Head of
Haire.
Pup.
Why I have a head of haire, and my owne too could caper
for a need: Oh that I cou'd thrust my selfe into a Lady of such a
Fortune.
Mer.
I can assure you sir, there are stranger fortunes fall upon
some mens heads.
Pup.
Pray don't you thinke, I have a head able to bear as large a
Fortune as another man?
A brow for the purpose: I can tell you sir, there is a Lady
I cou'd name, a handsome Lady, has somewhat more than every
one knowes on—
Fled.
O shee has an estate of twenty Aldermen, besides
Frank-tenement Copy-hold, and Tenure in Taile in aboundance.
Mer.
She's of so gentle a nature too, and so drawing.
Pup.
O delicate.
Plod.
I protest Sir, if you can but get to bee acquainted with
her, you may write yourselfe the happiest man alive.
Pup.
When may I see her? I long to be at her.
Mer.
Even when you will.
Pup.
But what shall I doe; I want hard words to Court her.
Me.
How let me see—'tis no matter, Ile tell you,
You have read Littleton, and the termes of Law.
Pup.
I ne're read any thing else.
Mer.
Then you shall Court this Lady ith' Lawyers Dialect, tis
new; and cannot but be gratefull.
Pup.
I doe not care for this Littleton, and the termes of Law;
but if I come to't once, have at her.
Mer.
First lets to the Taverne and drinke Sack,
To whet our wits.
Pup.
Content, a match.
Mer.
Come Noble Academians, lusty Wine
Shall make's immortall, there's our Magazine.
Exeunt omn.
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