 | The Royal Merchant |  |
SCENE I.
Vandunk's House.Vandunk, Hubert, Hempskirke, and Margaret.
Van.
Captain, you're welcome: so is this your friend,
Most safely welcome; tho' our town stand out
Against your master, you shall find good quarter;
Truth is, we love him not. Margaret, some wine.
[Exit Margaret.
Let's talk a little treason, if we can
Talk treason 'gainst the traitors—by your leaves,
We, here in Bruges, think he does usurp,
And therefore I'm bold with him.
Hub.
Sir, your boldness
Haply becomes your mouth, but not our ears,
While we're his servants; and, as we came here,
Not to ask questions, as spies upon your strength,
So let's intreat we may receive from you
Nothing, in passage, or discourse, but what
We may with gladness, and our honesties, hear,
And that shall seal our welcome.
Van.
Good—let's drink then.
You see I keep my old pearl still, captain.
Hemp.
Old jewels commend their keeper, sir,
Van.
Here's to you with a heart, my captain's friend,
With a good heart; and, if this make us speak
Bold words anon, 'tis all under the rose,
Forgotten—drown all memory when we drink.
With a good heart; and, if this make us speak
Bold words anon, 'tis all under the rose,
Forgotten—drown all memory when we drink.
17
If a word, or a joke,
Too freely be spoke,
While the bosom is open and gay,
Let it ne'er give offence,
To the ear, or the sense,
Take a bumper, and wash it away.
Too freely be spoke,
While the bosom is open and gay,
Let it ne'er give offence,
To the ear, or the sense,
Take a bumper, and wash it away.
Let no jealous sneer,
Mean scruple, or fear,
The bold face of pleasure dismay;
Why, why should we bear
A moment of care,
When a bumper can wash it away?
Mean scruple, or fear,
The bold face of pleasure dismay;
Why, why should we bear
A moment of care,
When a bumper can wash it away?
Hub.
'Tis freely spoken, noble burgomaster,
I'll do you right.
Hemp.
Nay, sir, Mynheer Vandunk
Is a true statesman.
Van.
Fill my captain's cup there; O! that your master
Had been an honest man!
Hub.
Sir!
Van.
Under the rose.
Hemp.
And how does my niece?
Almost a woman, I guess. This friend of mine
I drew along with me, thro' so much hazard,
Only to see her—she was my errand here.
Van.
Ay, a kind uncle you are, (fill him his glass)
That in so many years could not find leisure—
Hemp.
So many, sir! what mean you?
Van.
Seventeen.
Hemp.
No, not so much.
Van.
I'll bate you ne'er an ace on't;
'Twas ere the Brabander began his war
For moonshine in the water, there, his daughter,
Who ne'er was lost—yet you could not find time
To see a kinswoman; but she is worth seeing, sir,
18
She is a woman, sir—Fetch her forth, Margaret—
[Exit. Margaret.
And a fine woman, and has suitors—
Hemp.
How!
What suitors are they?
Van.
Batchelors, young burghers:
And one, a gallant; the young prince of merchants
We call him here in Bruges.
Hemp.
How! a merchant!
I thought, Vandunk, you'd understood me better,
And my niece too, so trusted to you by me,
Than to admit of such in name of suitors.
Van.
Such! he is such a such, as, were she mine,
I'd give him thirty thousand crowns with her.
Hemp.
But the same things, sir, fit not you and me.
[Exit.
Van.
Why give's some wine then; that will fit us all.
AIR.
What can our wisest heads provide
For the child we doat on nearly,
But a merry soul, and an honest heart,
In a lad who loves her dearly?
Who with kisses and chat, and all, all that,
Will sooth her late and early?
If the truth she'll tell, when she knows him well,
She'll swear she loves him dearly.
For the child we doat on nearly,
But a merry soul, and an honest heart,
In a lad who loves her dearly?
Who with kisses and chat, and all, all that,
Will sooth her late and early?
If the truth she'll tell, when she knows him well,
She'll swear she loves him dearly.
With the wretch estrang'd to social joys
Old time may loiter queerly,
Unable woman's worth to prize,
He ne'er can love her dearly:
But, what is't makes the flight he takes
By us felt most severely,
And life too short for play and sport?—
The girl we doat on dearly.
Old time may loiter queerly,
Unable woman's worth to prize,
He ne'er can love her dearly:
But, what is't makes the flight he takes
By us felt most severely,
And life too short for play and sport?—
The girl we doat on dearly.
19
Here's to you again, my captain's worthy friend,
And still, would Wolfort were an honest man!
Under the rose I speak it—this I'm sure of,
Your master is a traitor, and usurps
The earldom from a better man.
And still, would Wolfort were an honest man!
Under the rose I speak it—this I'm sure of,
Your master is a traitor, and usurps
The earldom from a better man.
Hub.
Ay, marry,
Where is that man?
Van.
Nay, soft, an I could tell you,
'Tis ten to one, I would not—here's my hand—
I love not Wolfort; sit you still with that.—
Here comes my captain again, and his fine niece;
And there's my merchant—view him well; that's he.
Enter Hempskirke, Gertrude, and Harrol.
Hemp.
You must not only know me for your uncle
Now, but obey me; you go cast yourself
Away upon a dunghill here! a merchant!
A petty fellow! one, who makes his trade
With oaths and perjuries!
Har.
What's that you say, sir?
If it be me you speak of, as your eye
Seems to direct, I wish you would speak to me.
Hemp.
Sir, I do say, she is no merchandize;
Her rates, be sure, are more than you are worth.
Har.
You do not know, sir, what a gentleman's worth,
Nor can you value him.
Hemp.
A gentleman!
What, of the woolpack, or the sugar-chest,
Or lists of velvet? which is't, pound, or yard,
You vend your gentry by?
Hub.
Oh! Hempskirke, fye!
Har.
Alas, how much I pity
So poor an argument! Do not you, the lord
Of land, if you be one, sell the grass,
The corn, the straw, the milk, the cheese—
Van.
And butter;—
Remember butter, do not leave out butter.
20
You now grow saucy.
Har.
Sir, I have been ever
Bred with my honest freedom, and must use it.
Hem.
Do you hear?—no more.
Har.
This little, sir, I pray you.
Y' appear the uncle, sir, to her, I love
More than my eyes; and I have heard your scorns
With so much indignation, and contempt,
As each strives which is greater; but, believe me,
I sucked not in this patience with my milk.
A good man bears a contumely worse,
Than he wou'd bear an injury—Proceed not
To my offence. I wou'd approach your niece
With all respect due to herself and you.
Hem.
Away, companion? handling her! Take that.
Har.
Nay, I do love no blows, sir—there's the exchange.
[fight.]
Ger.
Oh! help my Harrol!
Van.
No, my life for him!
[Harrol disarms Hemp.
Har.
Not hand her! yes sir,—
And clasp her, and embrace her; and, wou'd she
Go with me now, bear her thro' all her race,
Tho' they stood a wall of cannon;—kiss me, my Gertrude;
Nay do not tremble.
Van.
Kiss him, girl, I bid you;
My Merchant Royal! fear no uncles—hang 'em—
Hang up all uncles—are we not in Bruges?
Under the rose here?
Har.
Thus encircled, love,
Thou art as safe, as in a tower of brass.
Let such as do wrong, fear it.
Van.
Ay, that's good—
Let Wolfort look to that!
Har.
Sir, here she stands,
Your niece, and my belov'd; one of these titles
She must apply to; if unto the last,
Not all the anger, can be sent unto her
In frown, or voice, or other act, shall force her,
21
Say that thou lov'st me.
Van.
Do, and I'll drink to it.
Har.
Pr'ythee, speak,
Say thou art mine love, and defy false shame.
Ger.
Do not you play the tyrant sweet!—why need you?
AIR.
The blush, that glows upon my cheecks,
The conscious eye, that truly speaks,
The sigh, that vainly wou'd conceal
What grateful impulse bids me feel,
Do they not all conspire to tell
What faithful Harrol knows too well?
The conscious eye, that truly speaks,
The sigh, that vainly wou'd conceal
What grateful impulse bids me feel,
Do they not all conspire to tell
What faithful Harrol knows too well?
The tongue, by thousand various ways,
May wind thro' art's delusive maze,
The lover's honest joys deceive,
When swelling hopes his bosom heave;
But blushes, sighs, and looks impart
The genuine meaning of the heart.
May wind thro' art's delusive maze,
The lover's honest joys deceive,
When swelling hopes his bosom heave;
But blushes, sighs, and looks impart
The genuine meaning of the heart.
Hem.
I thank you, niece.
Har.
Sir, thank her for your life,
And fetch your sword within.
[Exeunt Har. and Ger.]
Hub.
A brave clear spirit!
Hempskirke, you were to blame; what meant you, pr'ythee,
To scorn him so?
Hemp.
'Tis done; now, ask no farther.
[Exit.
Hub.
Well, I must to the woods, for nothing here
Shall I trace out; there I may chance to learn
Somewhat to satisfy my keen enquiries.
How now, brave burgomaster? how is't with thee?
Van.
I love no Wolforts, and my name's Vandunke.
Hub.
Vandrunke, 'tis rather—come, go sleep within.
22
Earl Florez is right heir, and yon foul Wolfort—
Under the rose I speak it—
Hub.
Very hardly.
Van.
Usurps, and is a rank traitor, as e'er breath'd.
Shall he rule honest fellows, such as we?
DUET.
Van.
No pain, or disaster, shall make me say master
To Wolfort—
Hub.
Peace, peace man!
Van.
It goes against the grain;
And, sooner than do't—
Hub.
Till sober be mute—
Van.
I'll never more utter a syllable plain.
Van.
But while I can speak, or another glass take,
I'll drink to the downfall of his usurpation,
And pledge the dear man, that seconds my plan,
Till we've not left a drop of good wine in the nation.
Hub.
Pry'thee tumble to bed, let sleep cool thy head,
There quench, for to night, the remembrance of sorrow;
My hand on't, my boy, that I wake thee to joy,
To an ocean of transport, and liquor, tomorrow.
Van.
No, I'll not go to bed, nor in sleep lay my head;
In liquor, and mirth, will I bury my sorrow;
To night, silly boy, will I trust for my joy,
For none but a blockhead depends on tomorrow.
[Exeunt.
| The Royal Merchant | |