 | Queen Catharine |  |
SCENE, the Camp.
Enter Duke of Clarence, followed by the Earl of Warwick.
Warw.
Hold, Duke of Clarence stop, thus have I
Followed thee beyond our utmost Guards,
Thus beheld thee, observ'd thy folded arms,
And down cast eyes, thy silent steps I've traced,
Which seem'd to measure out thy graves
Length, so sad they were come, dear youth,
Lean upon my bosom and tell thy griefs, if thou
Art wronged, Warwick stands forth to do thee
Justice, I serve the King thy Brother Edward,
But dare Proclaim before his face I love thee
More.
Clar.
Burden me not with kindness. To noble natures
'Tis the hardest task, favours receiving without
Hopes of a return. Edward and Gloucester, the darlings,
Both of Fate; to them apply and court not him,
Who shuns the World.
War.
Dost thou push me from thee, young Prince;
Boy, I was a going to have said, you will repent
It; there's something labours in thy brain
Remember you were offered Warwick's aid, which
You despis'd, Farewell.
(Exit War.
Clar.
He's gone, and I dare not call him back or tell
My weakness; he never will consent, his Souls wound
Up to steady Glory, past the Convulsive fit of
Loves dear Calenture, what he terms sadness
Is the expected Joy which fills my Soul with transports.
My thoughts are full of thee, dear Isabella,
And my eyes disdain to view an object that may
Divert the pleasing Image, where art thou?
Malavill, lazy Embassador for Love, hast to bring
Me the glad tidings all goes well.
Enter a Page.
Pag.
Sir, Sir?
Clar.
What's the matter, boy?
Pag.
A grim looked fellow, game me this, and charged
Me instantly to seek ye, nor wou'd he leave me
Till he saw I'd found your Grace. I knew my
Gallant Master wou'd have been angry, if I
Had trembled else indeed he frighted me.
Clar.
Poor innocence! ha, lift up thy Torch sure the
Moon gives me a sickly light and make me,
Read a miss.
[Reads.]
If I dare, where am I, can this be true, or is it all
A plot too deep for me to fathom; Isabella false, I'll
Not believe it, sure 'tis all delusion.
Enter Malavill.
Oh, art thou come, let me rush upon thee, as I
Would seize my Love, thou art arriv'd the very
Minute when I was plunging down I know not where,
You must awake me from a dreadfull dream,
For sure it is no more?
Mal.
My Lord!
Clar.
Shrink not from my embrace, nor turn thy eyes
Away, I cannot bear another apprehension if thou
Bringst not comfort. Hell, all hell is here.
Mal.
What shou'd I say?
Clar.
Why, hast thou nothing then to say, did I not
Send thee?
Mal.
You did, my Lord.
Clar.
Why are thy answers cold and looks distracted?
Did I not send thee to Isabella, for the Confirmation
Of her promise, and the Key?
Mal.
You did, but oh!
Clar.
What? speak I charge thee, speak.
Mal.
After long waiting and repeated signs, the
Necessary thing her Woman appear'd, and with
A scornfull smile, said we were all defeated:
Sir James Thyrrold had discover'd our design, and
Isabella in a careless tone, she added, was concern'd,
But advised your Grace to think of her no more.
Clar.
By hell 'tis false, she is betrayed as well as-I,
Her Soul is written in her looks, and does not
Know deceit.
Mal.
Take my life, if you suspect me, go the
Appointed place I'll wait upon you,
Affronted and vexed like you.
Clar.
Forgive me, dear Malavill, what, no Key?
No word from her.
Mal.
None, as I hope for everlasting happiness.
Clar.
Then she is—hold my breath shall not proclaim
Her, nor will I curse her, nor wish her half,
The racks that she has given me; follow to
My Tent, I have yet an Assignation left, which
Shall be this night in Blood performed: Oh Isabella,
Who wou'd have thought, when Heaven had took
Such pains, without Hell had been employed
So deep within.
Fool! fool, too soon believing, I'm undone
Nor has the Trayt'ress by deceiving won.
For whom soe'er, false Saint, bows to thee,
There's not a Worshiper will dote like me.
[Exit.
Enter Duke of Gloucester.
Glou.
Ha, ha, ha, this will do him good; whet his
Spleen, and make a perfect Soldier of him. Had
The Man been married, he had been spoiled.
Mal.
Your Grace is pleased, but shou'd my Lord and
Isabella meet, or the King incline to the match;
I of necessity must be crusht as an atonement,
For the reconciliation.
Glou.
Hitherto thou hast acted well, doubting will
Undo thee. No, Clarence and Isabella meet no more
Like Lovers, on the word of Gloucester, be directed,
And search no further, tread the way that I show
Thee, which shall lead to thy advancement.
Mal.
Too far I've ventured now to think of a return.
Glou.
Where's the Key that to the Castle gives the
Wish'd admittance?
Mal.
There 'tis: had you but seen with what fear,
What trembling 'twas given, heard the prayers
The piercing words, the frighted Virgin used,
'Twou'd sure have shock'd ye.
Glou.
No, I shou'd have laughed at the deluded Maid.
Does your Master wear to day the Sword I gave you?
Mal.
My Lord, you know he does?
Glou.
'Tis well that Sword is temper'd, as I wou'd ever
Wish my foes, for at the first meeting Clash
It breaks, six of my Voluntiers will seize
Him; men not unused to practices like those.
In vain he'll call himself Clarence, in vain
Endeavour to convince 'em for they are
Well prepar'd, and without my orders, won't
Release him. When this is done, leave you the
Duke, the King shall both protect and reward you.
Mal.
As my diligence shall merit, I ask no more.
[Exit Mal.
Glou.
Thy merit's death, and thou shalt find it, fool;
Thy sting, thy venoms gone, thou hast done
Thy best. And the Voluntiers
That seize the Prince, have orders to stop
Thy craving mouth.
Clarence too soon will know thee,
Now therefore thou art useless.
Enter at rising Ground King Edward.
Edw.
Speak, Gloucester, shall haughty Catharine
Mourn this Night.
Glou.
She shall, if Tudor's blood can make
Her weep. Here's the Key, wait the
Signal, and prepare to glut your Eyes.
Edw.
Oh let me hug thee close; I feel a
Warm Vengeance rise, and joys fierce
As is fruition, fill the big heart, which
That ungrateful fair despised. 'Tis grown
A Rambler now, and can be pleas'd
On easier terms than dying.
Yet I will see again those Charming eyes,
But all their tears and menaces despise,
And laugh at Catharine, when her Tudor dies.
[Exeunt.
Enter Duke of Clarence, followed by the Earl of Warwick.
Warw.
Hold, Duke of Clarence stop, thus have I
Followed thee beyond our utmost Guards,
Thus beheld thee, observ'd thy folded arms,
And down cast eyes, thy silent steps I've traced,
Which seem'd to measure out thy graves
Length, so sad they were come, dear youth,
Lean upon my bosom and tell thy griefs, if thou
Art wronged, Warwick stands forth to do thee
25
But dare Proclaim before his face I love thee
More.
Clar.
Burden me not with kindness. To noble natures
'Tis the hardest task, favours receiving without
Hopes of a return. Edward and Gloucester, the darlings,
Both of Fate; to them apply and court not him,
Who shuns the World.
War.
Dost thou push me from thee, young Prince;
Boy, I was a going to have said, you will repent
It; there's something labours in thy brain
Remember you were offered Warwick's aid, which
You despis'd, Farewell.
(Exit War.
Clar.
He's gone, and I dare not call him back or tell
My weakness; he never will consent, his Souls wound
Up to steady Glory, past the Convulsive fit of
Loves dear Calenture, what he terms sadness
Is the expected Joy which fills my Soul with transports.
My thoughts are full of thee, dear Isabella,
And my eyes disdain to view an object that may
Divert the pleasing Image, where art thou?
Malavill, lazy Embassador for Love, hast to bring
Me the glad tidings all goes well.
Enter a Page.
Pag.
Sir, Sir?
Clar.
What's the matter, boy?
Pag.
A grim looked fellow, game me this, and charged
Me instantly to seek ye, nor wou'd he leave me
Till he saw I'd found your Grace. I knew my
Gallant Master wou'd have been angry, if I
Had trembled else indeed he frighted me.
Clar.
Poor innocence! ha, lift up thy Torch sure the
Moon gives me a sickly light and make me,
Read a miss.
[Reads.]
Duke of Clarence.
Your
Family is given to invade another's right. You a younger branch,
follow the Example: Witness, your designs on Isabella, my plighted
Wife. (Ha, my blood runs cold, but I will yet proceed)
Since you have chose the Murderers hour, as that perjur'd false one
has confessed, be that the place and time, if you dare to meet the
Injured Thyrrold.
26
A plot too deep for me to fathom; Isabella false, I'll
Not believe it, sure 'tis all delusion.
Enter Malavill.
Oh, art thou come, let me rush upon thee, as I
Would seize my Love, thou art arriv'd the very
Minute when I was plunging down I know not where,
You must awake me from a dreadfull dream,
For sure it is no more?
Mal.
My Lord!
Clar.
Shrink not from my embrace, nor turn thy eyes
Away, I cannot bear another apprehension if thou
Bringst not comfort. Hell, all hell is here.
Mal.
What shou'd I say?
Clar.
Why, hast thou nothing then to say, did I not
Send thee?
Mal.
You did, my Lord.
Clar.
Why are thy answers cold and looks distracted?
Did I not send thee to Isabella, for the Confirmation
Of her promise, and the Key?
Mal.
You did, but oh!
Clar.
What? speak I charge thee, speak.
Mal.
After long waiting and repeated signs, the
Necessary thing her Woman appear'd, and with
A scornfull smile, said we were all defeated:
Sir James Thyrrold had discover'd our design, and
Isabella in a careless tone, she added, was concern'd,
But advised your Grace to think of her no more.
Clar.
By hell 'tis false, she is betrayed as well as-I,
Her Soul is written in her looks, and does not
Know deceit.
Mal.
Take my life, if you suspect me, go the
Appointed place I'll wait upon you,
Affronted and vexed like you.
Clar.
Forgive me, dear Malavill, what, no Key?
No word from her.
Mal.
None, as I hope for everlasting happiness.
Clar.
Then she is—hold my breath shall not proclaim
Her, nor will I curse her, nor wish her half,
The racks that she has given me; follow to
My Tent, I have yet an Assignation left, which
Shall be this night in Blood performed: Oh Isabella,
Who wou'd have thought, when Heaven had took
27
So deep within.
Fool! fool, too soon believing, I'm undone
Nor has the Trayt'ress by deceiving won.
For whom soe'er, false Saint, bows to thee,
There's not a Worshiper will dote like me.
[Exit.
Enter Duke of Gloucester.
Glou.
Ha, ha, ha, this will do him good; whet his
Spleen, and make a perfect Soldier of him. Had
The Man been married, he had been spoiled.
Mal.
Your Grace is pleased, but shou'd my Lord and
Isabella meet, or the King incline to the match;
I of necessity must be crusht as an atonement,
For the reconciliation.
Glou.
Hitherto thou hast acted well, doubting will
Undo thee. No, Clarence and Isabella meet no more
Like Lovers, on the word of Gloucester, be directed,
And search no further, tread the way that I show
Thee, which shall lead to thy advancement.
Mal.
Too far I've ventured now to think of a return.
Glou.
Where's the Key that to the Castle gives the
Wish'd admittance?
Mal.
There 'tis: had you but seen with what fear,
What trembling 'twas given, heard the prayers
The piercing words, the frighted Virgin used,
'Twou'd sure have shock'd ye.
Glou.
No, I shou'd have laughed at the deluded Maid.
Does your Master wear to day the Sword I gave you?
Mal.
My Lord, you know he does?
Glou.
'Tis well that Sword is temper'd, as I wou'd ever
Wish my foes, for at the first meeting Clash
It breaks, six of my Voluntiers will seize
Him; men not unused to practices like those.
In vain he'll call himself Clarence, in vain
Endeavour to convince 'em for they are
Well prepar'd, and without my orders, won't
Release him. When this is done, leave you the
Duke, the King shall both protect and reward you.
Mal.
As my diligence shall merit, I ask no more.
[Exit Mal.
Glou.
Thy merit's death, and thou shalt find it, fool;
Thy sting, thy venoms gone, thou hast done
Thy best. And the Voluntiers
That seize the Prince, have orders to stop
28
Clarence too soon will know thee,
Now therefore thou art useless.
Enter at rising Ground King Edward.
Edw.
Speak, Gloucester, shall haughty Catharine
Mourn this Night.
Glou.
She shall, if Tudor's blood can make
Her weep. Here's the Key, wait the
Signal, and prepare to glut your Eyes.
Edw.
Oh let me hug thee close; I feel a
Warm Vengeance rise, and joys fierce
As is fruition, fill the big heart, which
That ungrateful fair despised. 'Tis grown
A Rambler now, and can be pleas'd
On easier terms than dying.
Yet I will see again those Charming eyes,
But all their tears and menaces despise,
And laugh at Catharine, when her Tudor dies.
[Exeunt.
| Queen Catharine | |