_The same. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.
_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS _and_ CLEORA.
_Archid._ Thou art thine own disposer. Were his honours
And glories centupled, as I must confess,
Leosthenes is most worthy, yet I will not,
However I may counsel, force affection.
_Cleo._ It needs not, sir; I prize him to his worth,
Nay, love him truly; yet would not live slaved
To his jealous humours: since, by the hopes of heaven,
As I am free from violence, in a thought
I am not guilty.
_Archid._ 'Tis believed, Cleora;
And much the rather, our great gods be praised for 't!
In that I find, beyond my hopes, no sign
Of riot in my house, but all things order'd,
As if I had been present.
_Cleo._ May that move you
To pity poor Marullo!
_Archid._ 'Tis my purpose
To do him all the good I can, Cleora;
But this offence, being against the state,
Must have a public trial. In the mean time,
Be careful of yourself, and stand engaged
No further to Leosthenes, than you may
Come off with honour; for, being once his wife,
You are no more your own, nor mine, but must
Resolve to serve, and suffer his commands,
And not dispute them:--ere it be too late,
Consider it duly. I must to the senate. [_Exit._
_Cleo._ I am much distracted: in Leosthenes
I can find nothing justly to accuse,
But his excess of love, which I have studied
To cure with more than common means; yet still
It grows upon him. And, if I may call
My sufferings merit, I stand bound to think on
Marullo's dangers--though I save his life,
His love is unrewarded:--I confess,
Both have deserved me; yet, of force, must be
Unjust to one; such is my destiny.--
_Enter_ TIMANDRA.
How now! whence flow these tears?
_Timand._ I have met, madam,
An object of such cruelty, as would force
A savage to compassion.
_Cleo._ Speak, what is it?
_Timand._ Men pity beasts of rapine, if o'ermatch'd,
Though baited for their pleasure: but these monsters
Upon a man that can make no resistance,
Are senseless in their tyranny. Let it be granted
Marullo is a slave, he's still a man;
A capital offender, yet in justice
Not to be tortured, till the judge pronounce
His punishment.
_Cleo._ Where is he?
_Timand._ Dragg'd to prison
With more than barbarous violence; spurn'd and spit on
By the insulting officers, his hands
Pinion'd behind his back; loaden with fetters:
Yet, with a saint-like patience, he still offers
His face to their rude buffets.
_Cleo._ O my grieved soul!--
By whose command?
_Timand._ It seems, my lord your brother's,
For he's a looker-on: and it takes from
Honour'd Leosthenes to suffer it,
For his respect to you, whose name in vain
The grieved wretch loudly calls on.
_Cleo._ By Diana,
'Tis base in both; and to their teeth I'll tell them
That I am wrong'd in 't. [_Going forth._
_Timand._ What will you do?
_Cleo._ In person
Visit and comfort him.
_Timand._ That will bring fuel
To the jealous fires which burn too hot already
In lord Leosthenes.
_Cleo._ Let them consume him!
I am mistress of myself. Where cruelty reigns,
There dwells nor love nor honour. [_Exit._
_Timand._ So! it works.
Though hitherto I have run a desperate course
To serve my brother's purposes, now 'tis fit
_Enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.
I study mine own ends. They come:--assist me
In these my undertakings, Love's great patron,
As my intents are honest!
_Leost._ 'Tis my fault[127]:
Distrust of other springs, Timagoras,
From diffidence in ourselves: but I will strive,
With the assurance of my worth and merits,
To kill this monster, jealousy.
_Timag._ 'Tis a guest,
In wisdom, never to be entertain'd
On trivial probabilities; but, when
He does appear in pregnant proofs, not fashion'd
By idle doubts and fears to be received:
They make their own wrongs that are too secure,
As well as such as give them growth and being
From mere imagination. Though I prize
Cleora's honour equal with mine own,
And know what large additions of power
This match brings to our family, I prefer
Our friendship, and your peace of mind, so far
Above my own respects, or hers, that if
She hold not her true value in the test,
'Tis far from my ambition, for her cure,
That you should wound yourself.
_Timand._ This argues for me. [_Aside._
_Timag._ Why she should be so passionate for a bondman,
Falls not in compass of my understanding,
But for some nearer interest; or he raise
This mutiny, if he loved her, as, you say,
She does confess he did, but to possess
The prize he ventured for, to me's a riddle.
_Leost._ I have answer'd that objection, in my strong
Assurance of her virtue.
_Timag._ 'Tis unfit, then,
That I should press it further.
_Timand._ Now I must
Make in, or all is lost.
[_Rushes forward distractedly._
_Timag._ What would Timandra?
_Leost._ How wild she looks! How is it with thy lady?
_Timag._ Collect thyself, and speak.
_Timand._ As you are noble,
Have pity, or love piety.--Oh!
_Leost._ Take breath.
_Timag._ Out with it boldly.
_Timand._ O, the best of ladies,
I fear, is gone for ever.
_Leost._ Who, Cleora?
_Timag._ Deliver, how? 'Sdeath, be a man, sir!--Speak.
_Timand._ Take it then in as many sighs as words, My lady----
_Timag._ What of her?
_Timand._ No sooner heard
Marullo was imprison'd, but she fell
Into a deadly swoon.
_Timag._ But she recover'd:
Say so, or he will sink too. Hold, sir; fie!
This is unmanly.
_Timand._ Brought again to life,
But with much labour, she awhile stood silent,
Yet in that interim vented sighs, as if
They labour'd, from the prison of her flesh,
To give her grieved soul freedom. On the sudden,
Transported on the wings of rage and sorrow,
She flew out of the house, and, unattended,
Enter'd the common prison.
_Leost._ This confirms
What but before I fear'd.
_Timand._ There you may find her;
And, if you love her as a sister----
_Timag._ Damn her!
_Timand._ Or you respect her safety as a lover,
Procure Marullo's liberty.
_Timag._ Impudence
Beyond expression!
_Timand._ She'll run mad, else,
Or do some violent act upon herself:
My lord, her father, sensible of her sufferings,
Labours to gain his freedom.
_Leost._ O, the devil!
Has she bewitch'd him too?
_Timag._ I'll hear no more.
Come, sir, we'll follow her; and if no persuasion
Can make her take again her natural form,
Which by some powerful spell she has cast off,
This sword shall disenchant her.
_Leost._ O my heart-strings!
[_Exeunt_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.
_Timand._ I knew 't would take. Pardon me, fair Cleora,
Though I appear a traitress; which thou wilt do,
In pity of my woes, when I make known
My lawful claim, and only seek mine own. [_Exit._
FOOTNOTE:
[127] _My fault_:] i. e. _my misfortune_. That the word anciently had
this meaning could be proved by many examples; _e. g._
_Marina._ The more my _fault_,
To scape his hands, where I was like to die."
_Pericles_, Act IV. sc. iii.
SCENE II.
_A Prison._ MARULLO _discovered in chains_.
_Enter_ CLEORA _and Gaoler_.
_Cleo._ There's for your privacy. Stay, unbind his hands.
_Gaol._ I dare not, madam.
_Cleo._ I will buy thy danger:
Take more gold;--do not trouble me with thanks;
I do suppose it done. [_Exit Gaoler._
_Mar._ My better angel
Assumes this shape to comfort me, and wisely;
Since, from the choice of all celestial figures,
He could not take a visible form so full
Of glorious sweetness. [_Kneels._
_Cleo._ Rise. I am flesh and blood,
And do partake thy tortures.
_Mar._ Can it be,
That charity should persuade you to descend
So far from your own height, as to vouchsafe
To look upon my sufferings? How I bless
My fetters now, and stand engaged to fortune
For my captivity--no, my freedom, rather!
For who dare think that place a prison which
You sanctify with your presence? or believe
Sorrow has power to use her sting on him
That is in your compassion arm'd, and made
Impregnable, though tyranny raise at once
All engines to assault him?
_Cleo._ Indeed virtue,
With which you have made evident proofs that you
Are strongly fortified, cannot fall, though shaken
With the shock of fierce temptations; but still triumphs
In spite of opposition. For myself,
I may endeavour to confirm your goodness,
(A sure retreat, which never will deceive you,)
And with unfeigned tears express my sorrow
For what I cannot help.
_Mar._ Do you weep for me?
O, save that precious balm for nobler uses!
I am unworthy of the smallest drop
Which, in your prodigality of pity,
You throw away on me. Ten of these pearls
Were a large ransom to redeem a kingdom
From a consuming plague, or stop heaven's vengeance,
Call'd down by crying sins, though, at that instant,
In dreadful flashes falling on the roofs
Of bold blasphemers. I am justly punish'd
For my intent of violence to such pureness;
And all the torments flesh is sensible of,
A soft and gentle penance.
_Cleo._ Which is ended
In this your free confession.
_Enter_ LEOSTHENES, _and_ TIMAGORAS _behind_.
_Leost._ What an object
Have I encounter'd!
_Timag._ I am blasted too:
Yet hear a little further.
_Mar._ Could I expire now,
These white and innocent hands closing my eyes thus,
'Twere not to die, but in a heavenly dream
To be transported, without the help of Charon,
To the Elysian shades. You make me bold;
And, but to wish such happiness, I fear,
May give offence.
_Cleo._ No; for believe 't, Marullo,
You've won so much upon me, that I know not
That happiness in my gift, but you may challenge.
_Leost._ Are you yet satisfied?
_Cleo._ Nor can you wish
But what my vows will second, though it were
Your freedom first, and then in me full power
To make a second tender of myself,
And you receive the present. By this kiss,
From me a virgin bounty, I will practise
All arts for your deliverance; and that purchased,
In what concerns your further aims, I speak it,
Do not despair, but hope----
[TIMAGORAS _and_ LEOSTHENES _come forward_.
_Timag._ To have the hangman,
When he is married to the cross, in scorn
To say, _Gods give you joy_!
_Leost._ But look on me,
And be not too indulgent to your folly;
And then, but that grief stops my speech, imagine
What language I should use.
_Cleo._ Against thyself:
Thy malice cannot reach me.
_Timag._ How?
_Cleo._ No, brother,
Though you join in the dialogue to accuse me:
What I have done, I'll justify; and these favours,
Which, you presume, will taint me in my honour,
Though jealousy use all her eyes to spy out
One stain in my behaviour, or envy
As many tongues to wound it, shall appear
My best perfections. For, to the world,
I can in my defence allege such reasons,
As my accusers shall stand dumb to hear them;
When in his fetters this man's worth and virtues,
But truly told, shall shame your boasted glories,
Which fortune claims a share in.
_Timag._ The base villain
Shall never live to hear it. [_Draws his sword._
_Cleo._ Murder! help!
Through me, you shall pass to him.
_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS, DIPHILUS, _and Officers_.
_Archid._ What's the matter?
On whom is your sword drawn? are you a judge?
Or else ambitious of the hangman's office,
Before it be design'd you?--You are bold, too;
Unhand my daughter.
_Leost._ She's my valour's prize.
_Archid._ With her consent, not otherwise. You may urge
Your title in the court; if it prove good,
Possess her freely.--Guard him safely off too.
_Timag._ You'll hear me, sir?
_Archid._ If you have aught to say,
Deliver it in public; all shall find
A just judge of Timoleon.
_Diph._ You must
Of force now use your patience.
[_Exeunt all but_ TIMAGORAS _and_ LEOSTHENES.
_Timag._ Vengeance rather!
Whirlwinds of rage possess me: you are wrong'd
Beyond a stoic sufferance; yet you stand
As you were rooted.
_Leost._ I feel something here,
That boldly tells me, all the love and service
I pay Cleora is another's due,
And therefore cannot prosper.
_Timag._ Melancholy;
Which now you must not yield to.
_Leost._ 'Tis apparent:
In fact your sister's innocent, however
Changed by her violent will.
_Timag._ If you believe so,
Follow the chase still; and in open court
Plead your own interest: we shall find the judge
Our friend, I fear not.
_Leost._ Something I shall say,
But what----
_Timag._ Collect yourself as we walk thither.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE III.
_The Court of Justice._
_Enter_ TIMOLEON, ARCHIDAMUS, CLEORA; _and Officers_.
_Timol._ 'Tis wonderous strange! nor can it fall within
The reach of my belief, a slave should be
The owner of a temperance which this age
Can hardly parallel in freeborn lords,
Or kings proud of their purple.
_Archid._ 'Tis most true;
And, though at first it did appear a fable,
All circumstances meet to give it credit;
Which works so on me, that I am compell'd
To be a suitor, not to be denied,
He may have equal hearing.
_Cleo._ Sir, you graced me
With the title of your mistress[128]; but my fortune
Is so far distant from command, that I
Lay by the power you gave me, and plead humbly
For the preserver of my fame and honour.
And pray you, sir, in charity believe,
That, since I had ability of speech,
My tongue has been so much inured to truth,
I know not how to lie.
_Timol._ I'll rather doubt
The oracles of the gods, than question what
Your innocence delivers; and, as far
As justice and mine honour can give way,
He shall have favour. Bring him in unbound:
[_Exeunt Officers._
And though Leosthenes may challenge from me,
For his late worthy service, credit to
All things he can allege in his own cause,
Marullo, so, I think, you call his name,
Shall find I do reserve one ear for him,
_Enter_ CLEON, ASOTUS, DIPHILUS, OLYMPIA, _and_ CORISCA.
To let in mercy. Sit, and take your places;
The right of this fair virgin first determined,
Your bondmen shall be censured[129].
_Cleon._ With all rigour.
We do expect.
_Coris._ Temper'd, I say, with mercy.
_Enter at one door_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS; _at the other,
Officers with_ MARULLO, _and_ TIMANDRA.
_Timol._ Your hand, Leosthenes: I cannot doubt,
You, that have been victorious in the war,
Should, in a combat fought with words, come off
But with assured triumph.
_Leost._ My deserts, sir,
If, without arrogance, I may style them such,
Arm me from doubt and fear.
_Timol._ 'Tis nobly spoken.
Nor be thou daunted (howsoe'er thy fortune
Has mark'd thee out a slave) to speak thy merits:
For virtue, though in rags, may challenge more
Than vice, set off with all the trim of greatness.
_Mar._ I had rather fall under so just a judge,
Than be acquitted by a man corrupt,
And partial, in his censure.
_Archid._ Note his language;
It relishes of better breeding than
His present state dares promise.
_Timol._ I observe it.
Place the fair lady in the midst, that both,
Looking with covetous eyes upon the prize
They are to plead for, may, from the fair object,
Teach Hermes eloquence.
_Leost._ Am I fallen so low?
My birth, my honour, and, what 's dearest to me,
My love, and, witness of my love, my service,
So undervalued, that I must contend
With one, where my excess of glory must
Make his o'erthrow a conquest? Shall my fulness
Supply defects in such a thing, that never
Knew any thing but want and emptiness,
Give him a name, and keep it such, from this
Unequal competition? If my pride,
Or any bold assurance of my worth,
Has pluck'd this mountain of disgrace upon me,
I am justly punish'd, and submit; but if
I have been modest, and esteem'd myself
More injured in the tribute of the praise,
Which no desert of mine, prized by self-love,
Ever exacted, may this cause and minute
For ever be forgotten! I dwell long
Upon mine anger, and now turn to you,
Ungrateful fair one; and, since you are such,
'Tis lawful for me to proclaim myself,
And what I have deserved.
_Cleo._ Neglect and scorn
From me, for this proud vaunt.
_Leost._ You nourish, lady,
Your own dishonour in this harsh reply,
And almost prove what some hold of your sex,
You are all made up of passion: for, if reason
Or judgment could find entertainment with you,
Or that you would distinguish of the objects
You look on, in a true glass, not seduced
By the false light of your too violent will,
I should not need to plead for that which you,
With joy, should offer. Is my high birth a blemish?
Or does my wealth, which all the vain expense
Of women cannot waste, breed loathing in you?
The honours I can call mine own, thought scandals?
Am I deform'd, or, for my father's sins,
Mulcted by nature? If you interpret these
As crimes, 'tis fit I should yield up myself
Most miserably guilty. But, perhaps,
(Which yet I would not credit,) you have seen
This gallant pitch the bar, or bear a burden
Would crack the shoulders of a weaker bondman.
_Cleo._ You are foul-mouth'd.
_Archid._ Ill-manner'd too.
_Leost._ I speak
In the way of supposition, and entreat you,
With all the fervour of a constant lover,
That you would free yourself from these aspersions,
Or any imputation black-tongued slander
Could throw on your unspotted virgin whiteness:
To which there is no easier way, than by
Vouchsafing him your favour; him, to whom,
Next to the general, and the gods and fautors[130],
The country owes her safety.
_Timag._ Are you stupid?
'Slight! leap into his arms, and there ask pardon.--
Oh! you expect your slave's reply; no doubt
We shall have a fine oration: I will teach
My spaniel to howl in sweeter language,
And keep a better method.
_Archid._ You forget
The dignity of the place.
_Diph._ Silence!
_Timol._ [_to Marullo._] Speak boldly.
_Mar._ 'Tis your authority gives me a tongue;
I should be dumb else; and I am secure,
I cannot clothe my thoughts, and just defence,
In such an abject phrase, but 'twill appear
Equal, if not above my low condition.
I need no bombast language, stolen from such
As make nobility from prodigious terms
The hearers understand not; I bring with me
No wealth to boast of, neither can I number
Uncertain fortune's favours with my merits;
I dare not force affection, or presume
To censure her discretion, that looks on me
As a weak man, and not her fancy's idol.
How I have loved, and how much I have suffer'd,
And with what pleasure undergone the burden
Of my ambitious hopes, (in aiming at
The glad possession of a happiness,
The abstract of all goodness in mankind
Can at no part deserve), with my confession
Of mine own wants, is all that can plead for me.
But if that pure desires, not blended with
Foul thoughts, that, like a river, keeps his course,
Retaining still the clearness of the spring
From whence it took beginning, may be thought
Worthy acceptance; then I dare rise up,
And tell this gay man to his teeth, I never
Durst doubt her constancy, that, like a rock,
Beats off temptations, as that mocks the fury
Of the proud waves; nor, from my jealous fears,
Question that goodness to which, as an altar
Of all perfection, he that truly loved
Should rather bring a sacrifice of service,
Than raze it with the engines of suspicion:
Of which, when he can wash an Æthiop white,
Leosthenes may hope to free himself;
But, till then, never.
_Timag._ Bold, presumptuous villain!
_Mar._ I will go further, and make good upon him,
I' the pride of all his honours, birth, and fortunes,
He's more unworthy than myself.
_Leost._ Thou liest.
_Timag._ Confute him with a whip, and, the doubt decided,
Punish him with a halter.
_Mar._ O the gods!
My ribs, though made of brass, cannot contain
My heart, swollen big with rage. The lie!--a whip!--
Let fury then disperse these clouds, in which
I long have march'd disguised; [_Throws off his
disguise._] that, when they know
Whom they have injured, they may faint with horror
Of my revenge, which, wretched men! expect,
As sure as fate, to suffer.
_Leost._ Ha! Pisander!
_Timag._ 'Tis the bold Theban!
_Asot._ There's no hope for me then:
I thought I should have put in for a share,
And borne Cleora from them both; but now,
This stranger looks so terrible, that I dare not
So much as look on her.
_Pisan._ Now as myself,
Thy equal at thy best, Leosthenes.
For you, Timagoras, praise heaven you were born
Cleora's brother; 'tis your safest armour.
But I lose time.--The base lie cast upon me,
I thus return: Thou art a perjured man,
False, and perfidious, and hast made a tender
Of love and service to this lady, when
Thy soul, if thou hast any, can bear witness,
That thou wert not thine own: for proof of this,
Look better on this virgin, and consider,
This Persian shape laid by[131], and she appearing
In a Greekish dress, such as when first you saw her,
If she resemble not Pisander's sister,
One call'd Statilia?
_Leost._ 'Tis the same! My guilt
So chokes my spirits, I cannot deny
My falsehood, nor excuse it.
_Pisan._ This is she,
To whom thou wert contracted: this the lady,
That, when thou wert my prisoner, fairly taken
In the Spartan war, then, begg'd thy liberty,
And with it gave herself to thee, ungrateful!
_Statil._ No more, sir, I entreat you: I perceive
True sorrow in his looks, and a consent
To make me reparation in mine honour;
And then I am most happy.
_Pisan._ The wrong done her
Drew me from Thebes, with a full intent to kill thee:
But this fair object met me in my fury,
And quite disarm'd me. Being denied to have her,
By you, my lord Archidamus, and not able
To live far from her; love, the mistress of
All quaint devices, prompted me to treat
With a friend of mine, who, as a pirate, sold me
For a slave to you, my lord, and gave my sister,
As a present, to Cleora.
_Timol._ Strange meanders!
_Pisan._ There how I bare myself, needs no relation:
But, if so far descending from the height
Of my then flourishing fortunes, to the lowest
Condition of a man, to have means only
To feed my eye with the sight of what I honour'd;
The dangers too I underwent, the sufferings;
The clearness of my interest, may deserve
A noble recompense in your lawful favour;
Now 'tis apparent that Leosthenes
Can claim no interest in you, you may please
To think upon my service.
_Cleo._ Sir, my want
Of power to satisfy so great a debt
Makes me accuse my fortune; but if that,
Out of the bounty of your mind, you think
A free surrender of myself full payment,
I gladly tender it.
_Archid._ With my consent too,
All injuries forgotten.
_Timag._ I will study,
In my future service, to deserve your favour,
And good opinion.
_Leost._ Thus I gladly fee
This advocate to plead for me. [_Kissing Statilia._
_Pisan._ You will find me
An easy judge. When I have yielded reasons
Of your bondmen's falling off from their obedience,
Then after, as you please, determine of me.
I found their natures apt to mutiny
From your too cruel usage, and made trial
How far they might be wrought on; to instruct you
To look with more prevention and care
To what they may hereafter undertake
Upon the like occasions. The hurt 's little
They have committed; nor was ever cure,
But with some pain, effected. I confess,
In hope to force a grant of fair Cleora,
I urged them to defend the town against you;
Nor had the terror of your whips, but that
I was preparing for defence elsewhere,
So soon got entrance: In this I am guilty;
Now, as you please, your censure.
_Timol._ Bring them in;
And, though you've given me power, I do entreat
Such as have undergone their insolence,
It may not be offensive, though I study
Pity, more than revenge.
_Coris._ 'Twill best become you.
_Cleon._ I must consent.
_Asot._ For me, I'll find a time
To be revenged hereafter.
_Timol._ And now, the war being ended to our wishes,
And such as went the pilgrimage of love,
Happy in full fruition of their hopes,
'Tis lawful, thanks paid to the Powers divine,
To drown our cares in honest mirth and wine.
[_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[128] Cleo. _Sir, you graced me
With the title of your mistress._] This alludes to the request in
the first act, that he might be permitted _to wear her colours_.
In those days of gallantry, I mean those of Massinger, not of
Timoleon, to wear a lady's colours, that is, a scarf, or a riband,
taken from her person, was to become her authorized champion and
servant.--GIFFORD.
[129] _Censured_,] i. e. _judged_. It may be observed, that our
ancestors used _censure_ precisely as we now do judgment:
sometimes for a quality of the mind, and sometimes for a judicial
determination.--GIFFORD.
[130] _The gods and fautors_,] in the language of the author means the
_favouring gods_.
[131] _This Persian shape laid by_,] i. e. the _dress_ of a Persian
slave, which Statilia had assumed, with the name of Timandra.
_Shape_ is a term borrowed from the tiring-room of the theatres.
In the list of dramatis personæ prefixed to _The Virgin Martyr_,
Harpax is said to be, "an evil spirit following Theophilus in the
_shape_ (habit) of a secretary."--GIFFORD.
THE MAID OF HONOUR.
THE MAID OF HONOUR.] This tragi-comedy, which was first printed in
1632, was, as the old title-page informs us, very frequently acted "at
the Phoenix in Drury-lane, by the Queen's Majesty's servants." It was
a great favourite, and with justice, for it has a thousand claims to
admiration, and is of the higher order of Massinger's plays. It will
not, indeed, be very easy to find in any writer a subject more
animated, or characters more variously and pointedly drawn. There is
no delay in introducing the business of the drama; and nothing is
allowed to interfere with its progress. Indeed this is by far too
rapid; and event is precipitated upon event without regard to time or
place. But Massinger acts with a liberty which it would be absurd to
criticise. Thebes and Athens, Palermo and Sienna, are alike to him;
and he must be allowed to transport his agents and their concerns from
one to another, as often as the exigencies of his ambulatory plan may
require.
It is observable, that in this play Massinger has attempted the more
difficult part of dramatic writing. He is not content with describing
different qualities in his characters; but lays before the reader
several differences of the same qualities. The courage of Gonzaga,
though by no means inferior to it, is not that of Bertoldo. In the
former, it is a fixed and habitual principle, the honourable business
of his life. In the latter, it is an irresistible impulse, the
instantaneous result of a fiery temper. There is still another remove;
and these branches of real courage differ from the poor and forced
approaches to valour in Gasparo and Antonio. A broader distinction is
used with his two courtiers; and the cold interest of Astutio is fully
contrasted with the dazzling and imprudent assumption of Fulgentio.
But Camiola herself is the great object that reigns throughout the
piece. Every where she animates us with her spirit, and instructs us
with her sense. Yet this superiority takes nothing from her softer
feelings. Her tears flow with a mingled fondness and regret; and she
is swayed by a passion which is only quelled by her greater
resolution. The influence of her character is also heightened through
the different manner of her lovers; through the mad impatience of the
uncontrolled Bertoldo, the glittering pretensions of Fulgentio, and
the humble and sincere attachment of Adorni, who nourishes secret
desires of a happiness too exalted for him, faithfully performs
commands prejudicial to his own views, through the force of an
affection which ensures his obedience, and, amidst so much service,
scarcely presumes to hint the passion which consumes him. I know not
if even signior Sylli is wholly useless here; he serves at least to
show her good-humoured toleration of a being hardly important enough
for her contempt.
In the midst of this just praise of Camiola, there are a few things to
be regretted. Reason and religion had forbidden her union with
Bertoldo; and she had declared herself unalterable in her purpose. His
captivity reverses her judgment, and she determines not only to
liberate, but to marry him. Unfortunately too she demands a sealed
contract as the condition of his freedom; though Bertoldo's ardour was
already known to her, and the generosity of her nature ought to have
abstained from so degrading a bargain. But Massinger wanted to hinder
the marriage of Aurelia; and, with an infelicity which attends many of
his contrivances, he provided a prior contract at the expense of the
delicacy, as well as the principles of his heroine. It is well, that
the nobleness of the conclusion throws the veil over these blemishes.
Her determination is at once natural and unexpected. It answers to the
original independence of her character, and she retires with our
highest admiration and esteem.
It may be observed here, that Massinger was not unknown to Milton. The
date of some of Milton's early poems, indeed, is not exactly
ascertained; but if the reader will compare the speech of Paulo, with
_the Penseroso_, he cannot fail to remark a similarity in the
cadences, as well as in the measure and the solemnity of the thoughts.
On many other occasions he certainly remembers Massinger, and
frequently in his representations of female purity, and the commanding
dignity of virtue.
A noble lesson arises from the conduct of the principal character. A
fixed sense of truth and rectitude gives genuine superiority; it
corrects the proud, and abashes the vain, and marks the proper limits
between humility and presumption. It also governs itself with the same
ascendancy which it establishes over others. When the lawful objects
of life cannot be possessed with clearness of honour, it provides a
nobler pleasure in rising above their attraction, and creates a new
happiness by controlling even innocent desires.
TO
MY MOST HONOURED FRIENDS,
SIR FRANCIS FOLJAMBE, KNT. AND BART.
AND
SIR THOMAS BLAND, KNT.
That you have been, and continued so for many years, since you
vouchsafed to own me, patrons to me and my despised studies, I
cannot but with all humble thankfulness acknowledge: and living,
as you have done, inseparable in your friendship,
(notwithstanding all differences, and suits in law arising
between you[132],) I held it as impertinent as absurd, in the
presentment of my service in this kind, to divide you. A free
confession of a debt, in a meaner man, is the amplest
satisfaction to his superiors; and I heartily wish that the world
may take notice, and from myself, that I had not to this time
subsisted, but that I was supported by your frequent courtesies
and favours. When your more serious occasions will give you
leave, you may please to peruse this trifle, and peradventure
find something in it that may appear worthy of your protection.
Receive it, I beseech you, as a testimony of his duty who, while
he lives, resolves to be
truly and sincerely devoted to your service,
PHILIP MASSINGER.
FOOTNOTE:
[132] _Notwithstanding all differences, and suits in late arising
between you._] The _suits in law_ subsisting between these fast
friends of Massinger--Sir Francis Foljambe, of Walton, in the
county of Derby, and Sir Thomas Bland, of Kippax Park, in the
county of York--originated in a question as to the right of
working some coal-mines.--GILCHRIST.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ROBERTO, _king of Sicily_.
FERDINAND, _duke of Urbin_.
BERTOLDO, _the king's natural brother, a knight of Malta_.
GONZAGA, _a knight of Malta, general to the duchess of Sienna_.
ASTUTIO, _a counsellor of state_.
FULGENTIO, _the minion of_ ROBERTO.
ADORNI, _a follower of_ CAMIOLA'S _father_.
SIGNIOR SYLLI, _a foolish self-lover_.
ANTONIO, }
GASPARO, } _two rich heirs, city-bred_.
PIERIO, _a colonel to_ GONZAGA.
RODERIGO, }
JACOMO, } _captains to_ GONZAGA.
DRUSO, }
LIVIO, } _captains to duke_ FERDINAND.
_Father_ PAULO, _a priest_, CAMIOLA'_s confessor_.
_Ambassador from the duke of Urbin._
_A Bishop._
_A Page._
AURELIA, _duchess of Sienna_.
CAMIOLA, _the Maid of Honour_.
CLARINDA, _her woman_.
_Scout, Soldiers, Gaoler, Attendants, Servants, &c._
SCENE, partly in Sicily, and partly in the Siennese.
THE MAID OF HONOUR.
ACT I. SCENE I.
_Palermo. A State-room in the Palace._
_Enter_ ASTUTIO _and_ ADORNI.
_Ador._ Good day to your lordship.
_Ast._ Thanks, Adorni.
_Ador._ May I presume to ask if the ambassador
Employ'd by Ferdinand, the duke of Urbin,
Hath audience this morning?
_Enter_ FULGENTIO.
_Ast._ 'Tis uncertain;
For, though a counsellor of state, I am not
Of the cabinet council: but there's one, if he please,
That may resolve you.
_Ador._ I will move him.--Sir!
_Ful._ If you've a suit, show water[133], I am blind else.
_Ador._ A suit; yet of a nature not to prove
The quarry[134] that you hawk for: if your words
Are not like Indian wares, and every scruple
To be weigh'd and rated, one poor syllable,
Vouchsafed in answer of a fair demand,
Cannot deserve a fee.
_Ful._ It seems you are ignorant,
I neither speak nor hold my peace for nothing;
And yet, for once, I care not if I answer
One single question, gratis.
_Ador._ I much thank you.
Hath the ambassador audience, sir, to-day?
_Ful._ Yes.
_Ador._ At what hour?
_Ful._ I promised not so much.
A syllable you begg'd, my charity gave it;
Move me no further. [_Exit._
_Ast._ This you wonder at:
With me, 'tis usual.
_Ador._ Pray you, sir, what is he?
_Ast._ No gentleman, yet a lord. He hath some drops
Of the king's blood running in his veins, derived
Some ten degrees off. His revenue lies
In a narrow compass, the king's ear; and yields him
Every hour a fruitful harvest. Men may talk
Of three crops in a year in the Fortunate Islands,
Or profit made by wool; but, while there are suitors,
His sheepshearing, nay, shaving to the quick,
Is in every quarter of the moon, and constant.
In the time of trussing a point,[135] he can undo,
Or make a man: his play or recreation,
Is to raise this up, or pull down that; and, though
He never yet took orders, makes more bishops
In Sicily, than the pope himself.
_Enter_ BERTOLDO, GASPARO, ANTONIO, _and a Servant_.
_Ador._ Most strange!
_Ast._ The presence fills. He in the Malta habit[136]
Is the king's natural brother.
_Ador._ I understand you.
_Bert._ With this jewel
Presented to Camiola, prepare,
This night, a visit for me. [_Exit Servant._] I shall have
Your company, gallants, I perceive, if that
The king will hear of war.
_Ant._ You are, sir,
A knight of Malta, and, as I have heard,
Have served against the Turk.
_Bert._ 'Tis true.
_Ant._ Pray you, show us
The difference between the city valour,
And service in the field.
_Bert._ 'Tis somewhat more
Than roaring in a tavern or a brothel,
Or to steal a constable[137] from a sleeping watch,
Then burn their halberds; or, safe guarded by
Your tenant's sons, to carry away a May-pole
From a neighbour village. You will not find there
Your masters of dependencies[138] to take up
A drunken brawl, or, to get you the names
Of valiant chevaliers, fellows that will be,
For a cloak with thrice-dyed velvet, and a cast suit,
Kick'd down the stairs. A knave with a provant sword[139],
If you bear not yourself both in and upright,
Will slash your scarlets and your plush a new way;
Or, with the hilts, thunder about your ears
Such music as will make your worships dance
To the doleful tune of _Lachrymæ_[140].
_Gasp._ I must tell you
In private, as you are my princely friend,
I do not like such fiddlers.
_Bert._ No! they are useful
For your imitation; I remember you,
When you came first to the court, and talk'd of nothing
But your rents and your entradas[141], ever chiming
The golden bells in your pockets; you believed
The taking of the wall as a tribute due to
Your gaudy clothes; and could not walk at midnight
Without a causeless quarrel, as if men
Of coarser outsides were in duty bound
To suffer your affronts: but, when you had been
Cudgell'd well twice or thrice, and from the doctrine
Made profitable uses, you concluded,
The sovereign means to teach irregular heirs
Civility, with conformity of manners,
Were two or three sound beatings.
_Ant._ I confess
They did much good upon me.
_Gasp._ And on me:
The principles that they read were sound.
_Bert._ You'll find
The like instructions in the camp.
_Ast._ The king!
_A flourish. Enter_ ROBERTO, FULGENTIO, _Ambassador, and Attendants_.
_Rob._ [_ascends the throne._] We sit prepared to hear.
_Amb._ Your majesty
Hath been long since familiar, I doubt not,
With the desperate fortunes of my lord; and pity
Of the much that your confederate hath suffer'd,
You being his last refuge, may persuade you
Not alone to compassionate, but to lend
Your royal aids to stay him in his fall
To certain ruin. He, too late, is conscious
That his ambition to encroach upon
His neighbour's territories, with the danger of
His liberty, nay, his life, hath brought in question
His own inheritance: but youth, and heat
Of blood, in your interpretation, may
Both plead and mediate for him. I must grant it
An error in him, being denied the favours
Of the fair princess of Sienna, (though
He sought her in a noble way,) to endeavour
To force affection by surprisal of
Her principal seat, Sienna.
_Rob._ Which now proves
The seat of his captivity, not triumph:
Heaven is still just.
_Amb._ And yet that justice is
To be with mercy temper'd, which heaven's deputies
Stand bound to minister. The injured duchess,
By reason taught, as nature, could not, with
The reparation of her wrongs, but aim at
A brave revenge; and my lord feels, too late,
That innocence will find friends. The great Gonzaga,
The honour of his order, (I must praise
Virtue, though in an enemy,) he whose fights
And conquests hold one number, rallying up
Her scatter'd troops, before we could get time
To victual or to man the conquer'd city,
Sat down before it; and presuming that
'Tis not to be relieved, admits no parley,
Our flags of truce hung out in vain: nor will he
Lend an ear to composition, but exacts,
With the rendering up the town, the goods and lives
Of all within the walls, and of all sexes,
To be at his discretion.
_Rob._ Since injustice
In your duke meets this correction, can you press us,
With any seeming argument of reason,
In foolish pity to decline[142] his dangers,
To draw them on ourself? Shall we not be
Warn'd by his harms? The league proclaim'd between us
Bound neither of us further than to aid
Each other, if by foreign force invaded;
And so far in my honour I was tied.
But since, without our counsel, or allowance,
He hath ta'en arms; with his good leave, he must
Excuse us if we steer not on a rock
We see, and may avoid. Let other monarchs
Contend to be made glorious by proud war,
And, with the blood of their poor subjects, purchase
Increase of empire, and augment their cares
In keeping that which was by wrongs extorted,
Gilding unjust invasions with the trim
Of glorious conquests; we, that would be known
The father of our people, in our study
And vigilance for their safety, must not change
Their ploughshares into swords, and force them from
The secure shade of their own vines, to be
Scorch'd with the flames of war; or, for our sport,
Expose their lives to ruin.
_Amb._ Will you, then,
In his extremity, forsake your friend?
_Rob._ No; but preserve ourself.
_Bert._ Cannot the beams
Of honour thaw your icy fears?
_Rob._ Who's that?
_Bert._ A kind of brother, sir, howe'er your subject;
Your father's son, and one who blushes that
You are not heir to his brave spirit and vigour,
As to his kingdom.
_Rob._ How's this!
_Bert._ Sir, to be
His living chronicle, and to speak his praise,
Cannot deserve your anger.
_Rob._ Where's your warrant
For this presumption?
_Bert._ Here, sir, in my heart:
Let sycophants, that feed upon your favours,
Style coldness in you caution, and prefer
Your ease before your honour; and conclude,
To eat and sleep supinely is the end
Of human blessings: I must tell you, sir,
Virtue, if not in action, is a vice;
And when we move not forward, we go backward[143]:
Nor is this peace, the nurse of drones and cowards,
Our health, but a disease.
_Gasp._ Well urged, my lord.
_Ant._ Perfect what is so well begun.
_Amb._ And bind
My lord your servant.
_Rob._ Hair-brain'd fool! what reason
Canst thou infer, to make this good?
_Bert._ A thousand,
Not to be contradicted. But consider
Where your command lies: 'tis not, sir, in France,
Spain, Germany, Portugal, but in Sicily;
An island, sir. Here are no mines of gold
Or silver to enrich you; no worm spins
Silk in her womb, to make distinction
Between you and a peasant, in your habits;
No fish lives near our shores, whose blood can dye
Scarlet or purple; all that we possess,
With beasts we have in common: nature did
Design us to be warriors, and to break through
Our ring, the sea, by which we are environ'd;
And we by force must fetch in what is wanting,
Or precious to us. Add to this, we are
A populous nation, and increase so fast,
That, if we by our providence are not sent
Abroad in colonies, or fall by the sword,
Not Sicily, though now it were more fruitful
Than when 't was styled the granary of great Rome,
Can yield our numerous fry bread: we must starve,
Or eat up one another.
_Ador._ The king hears
With much attention.
_Ast._ And seems moved with what
Bertoldo hath deliver'd.
_Bert._ May you live long, sir,
The king of peace, so you deny not us
The glory of the war; let not our nerves
Shrink up with sloth, nor, for want of employment,
Make younger brothers thieves: it is their swords, sir,
Must sow and reap their harvest. If examples
May move you more than arguments, look on England,
The empress of the European isles,
And unto whom alone ours yields precedence:
When did she flourish so, as when she was
The mistress of the ocean, her navies
Putting a girdle round about the world?
When the Iberian quaked, her worthies named;
And the fair flower-de-luce grew pale, set by
The red rose and the white? Let not our armour
Hung up, or our unrigg'd armada, make us
Ridiculous to the late poor snakes our neighbours,
Warm'd in our bosoms, and to whom again
We may be terrible. Rouse us, sir, from the sleep
Of idleness, and redeem our mortgaged honours.
Your birth, and justly, claims my father's kingdom;
But his heroic mind descends to me:
I will confirm so much.
_Ador._ In his looks he seems
To break ope Janus' temple.
_Ast._ How these younglings
Take fire from him!
_Ador._ It works an alteration
Upon the king.
_Ant._ I can forbear no longer:
War, war, my sovereign!
_Ful._ The king appears
Resolved, and does prepare to speak.
_Rob._ Think not
Our counsel 's built upon so weak a base,
As to be overturn'd, or shaken, with
Tempestuous winds of words. As I, my lord,
Before resolved you, I will not engage
My person in this quarrel; neither press
My subjects to maintain it: yet, to show
My rule is gentle, and that I have feeling
O' your master's sufferings, since these gallants, weary
Of the happiness of peace, desire to taste
The bitter sweets of war, we do consent
That, as adventurers and volunteers,
No way compell'd by us, they may make trial
Of their boasted valours.
_Bert._ We desire no more.
_Rob._ 'Tis well; and, but my grant in this, expect not
Assistance from me. Govern, as you please,
The province you make choice of; for, I vow
By all things sacred, if that thou miscarry
In this rash undertaking, I will hear it
No otherwise than as a sad disaster,
Fallen on a stranger; nor will I esteem
That man my subject, who, in thy extremes,
In purse or person aids thee. Take your fortune:
You know me; I have said it. So, my lord,
You have my absolute answer.
_Amb._ My prince pays,
In me, his duty.
_Rob._ Follow me, Fulgentio,
And you, Astutio.
[_Flourish. Exeunt_ ROBERTO, FULGENTIO, ASTUTIO, _and Attendants_.
_Gasp._ What a frown he threw,
At his departure, on you!
_Bert._ Let him keep
His smiles for his state flatterer, I care not.
_Ant._ Shall we aboard to night?
_Amb._ Your speed, my lord,
Doubles the benefit.
_Bert._ I have a business
Requires despatch; some two hours hence I'll meet you. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[133] _Show water_,] i. e. _to clear his sight_. A proverbial
periphrasis for a _bribe_, which, in Massinger's days, (though
happily not since,) was found to be the only collyrium for the
eyes of a courtier.--GIFFORD.
[134] _Quarry_,] i. e. _the game sought_.
[135] _Trussing a point_,] i. e. _tying the strings that support the
hose or breeches_. These strings were tagged, and are therefore
called _points_.
[136] _The Malta habit._] The dress of the knights of Malta was black,
having a cross of white waxed cloth on the left side of their
cloak. None were admitted into the order but those who were noble
both on the father and mother's side for four generations, unless
they were, like Bertoldo, the natural sons of kings and princes.
[137] _Or to steal a constable from a sleeping watch._] The
_constable_ was the captain of the band; this therefore was to
deprive these trusty guardians of the night of their
leader.--GIFFORD.
[138] _Masters of dependencies._] They were a set of needy bravoes,
who undertook to ascertain the authentic grounds of a quarrel, and
in some cases to settle it, for the timorous or unskilful. In the
punctilious days of our author, all matters relative to duelling
were arranged, in set treatises, with a gravity that, in a
business less serious, would be infinitely ridiculous. Troops of
disbanded soldiers, or rather of such as pretended to be so, took
up the "noble science of arms," and, with the use of the small
sword, (then a novelty,) taught a jargon respecting the various
modes of "honourable quarrelling," which, though seemingly
calculated to baffle alike the patience and the understanding, was
a fashionable object of study. The dramatic poets, faithful to the
moral end of their high art, combated this contagious folly with
the united powers of wit and humour; and, after a long and
well-conducted struggle, succeeded in rendering it as contemptible
as it was odious, and finally suppressed it altogether.--GIFFORD.
[139] _A provant sword._] A plain, unornamented sword, such as the
army is supplied with. Properly speaking, _provant_ means
provisions; but our old writers extend it to all the articles that
make up the magazine of an army.--GIFFORD.
[140] _Lachrymæ._] The first word of the title of a musical work
composed by John Dowland, in the time of James the First. The full
title was, "Lachrymæ; or, Seven Teares figured in seaven
passionate Pavans (_i. e._ affecting, serious dances); with divers
other Pavans, Galiards, and Almands, set forth to the Lute, Viols,
or Violins, in five Parts." This work was very popular, and is
frequently alluded to by the writers of our author's age.
[141] _Entradas_,] i. e. _rents, revenues_.
[142] _To decline_,] i. e. _to divert from their course_. This sense
of the word is frequent in our old poets.
[143] _Virtue, if not in action, is a vice; And when we move not
forward, we go backward._] This is a beautiful improvement on
Horace:
_Paulum sepultæ distat inertiæ
Celata virtus._
The last line of the text alludes to the Latin adage _Non progredi
est regredi_.--GIFFORD.
SCENE II.
_The same. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.
_Enter Signior_ SYLLI, _walking fantastically, followed by_ CAMIOLA
_and_ CLARINDA.
_Cam._ Nay, signior, this is too much ceremony,
In my own house.
_Syl._ What's gracious abroad,
Must be in private practised.
_Clar._ For your mirth's sake
Let him alone; he has been all this morning
In practice with a peruked gentleman-usher,
To teach him his true amble, and his postures,
[SYLLI _walking by, and practising_.
When he walks before a lady.
_Syl._ You may, madam,
Perhaps, believe that I in this use art,
To make you dote upon me, by exposing
My more than most rare features to your view:
But I, as I have ever done, deal simply.
Look not with too much contemplation on me;
If you do, you are lost.
_Cam._ Is 't possible?
What philters or love-powders do you use,
To force affection? I see nothing in
Your person but I dare look on, yet keep
My own poor heart still.
_Syl._ You are warn'd--be arm'd;
And do not lose the hope of such a husband,
In being too soon enamour'd.
_Cam._ Never fear it;
Though your best taking part, your wealth, were trebled,
I would not woo you. But since in your pity
You please to give me caution, tell me what
Temptations I must fly from.
_Syl._ The first is,
That you never hear me sing, for I'm a Syren:
If you observe, when I warble, the dogs howl,
As ravish'd with my ditties; and you will
Run mad to hear me.
_Cam._ I will stop my ears,
And keep my little wits.
_Syl._ Next, when I dance,
And come aloft thus, [_capers_] cast not a sheep's eye
Upon the quivering of my calf.
_Cam._ Proceed, sir.
_Syl._ Nor should your little ladyship be taken with
My pretty spider-fingers, nor my eyes,
That twinkle on both sides.
_Cam._ Was there ever such
A piece of motley[144] heard of! [_A knocking within._]
Who's that? [_Exit_ CLARINDA.] You may spare
The catalogue of my dangers.
_Syl._ No, good madam;
I have not told you half.
_Cam._ Enough, good signior.--
_Re-enter_ CLARINDA.
Who is 't?
_Clar._ The brother of the king.
_Syl._ Nay, start not.
The brother of the king! is he no more?
Were it the king himself, I'd give him leave
To speak his mind to you, for I am not jealous;
And, to assure your ladyship of so much,
I'll usher him in, and, that done--hide myself,
[_Aside, and exit._
_Cam._ Camiola, if ever, now be constant:
This is, indeed, a suitor, whose sweet presence,
Courtship, and loving language, would have stagger'd
The chaste Penelope; and, to increase
The wonder, did not modesty forbid it,
I should ask that from him he sues to me for:
And yet my reason, like a tyrant, tells me
I must nor give nor take it.
_Re-enter_ SYLLI _with_ BERTOLDO.
_Syl._ I must tell you,
You lose your labour. Yet you shall have my countenance
To parley with her, and I'll take special care
That none shall interrupt you.
_Bert._ You are courteous.
_Syl._ Come, wench, wilt thou hear wisdom?
_Clar._ Yes, from you, sir. [_They walk aside._
_Bert._ If forcing this sweet favour from your hand,
[_Kisses her hand._
Fair madam, argue me of too much boldness,
When you are pleased to understand I take
A parting kiss, if not excuse, at least
'Twill qualify the offence.
_Cam._ A parting kiss, sir!
What nation, envious of the happiness
Which Sicily enjoys in your sweet presence,
Can buy you from her? or what climate yield
Pleasures transcending those which you enjoy here,
Being both beloved and honour'd; the north-star
And guider of all hearts; and, to sum up
Your full account of happiness in a word,
The brother of the king?
_Bert._ Do you, alone,
And with an unexampled cruelty,
Enforce my absence, and deprive me of
Those blessings which you, with a polish'd phrase,
Seem to insinuate that I do possess,
And yet tax me as being guilty of
My wilful exile? What are titles to me,
Or popular suffrage, or my nearness to
The king in blood, or fruitful Sicily,
Though it confess'd no sovereign but myself,
When you, that are the essence of my being,
The anchor of my hopes, the real substance
Of my felicity, in your disdain,
Turn all to fading and deceiving shadows?
_Cam._ You tax me without cause.
_Bert._ You must confess it.
But answer love with love, and seal the contract
In the uniting of our souls, how gladly
(Though now I were in action, and assured,
Following my fortune, that plumed Victory
Would make her glorious stand upon my tent)
Would I put off my armour, in my heat
Of conquest, and, like Antony, pursue
My Cleopatra! Will you yet look on me
With an eye of favour?
_Cam._ Truth bear witness for me,
That, in the judgment of my soul, you are
A man so absolute, and circular,
In all those wish'd-for rarities that may take
A virgin captive, that, though at this instant
All scepter'd monarchs of our western world
Were rivals with you, and Camiola worthy
Of such a competition, you alone
Should wear the garland.
_Bert._ If so, what diverts
Your favour from me?
_Cam._ No mulct in yourself,
Or in your person, mind, or fortune.
_Bert._ What then?
_Cam._ The consciousness of mine own wants: alas! sir,
We are not parallels; but, like lines divided,
Can ne'er meet in one centre[145]. Your birth, sir,
Without addition, were an ample dowry
For one of fairer fortunes; and this shape,
Were you ignoble, far above all value:
To this so clear a mind, so furnish'd with
Harmonious faculties moulded from heaven,
That though you were Thersites in your features,
Of no descent, and Irus in your fortunes,
Ulysses-like, you'd force all eyes and ears
To love, but seen; and, when heard, wonder at
Your matchless story: but all these bound up
Together in one volume!--give me leave
With admiration to look upon them;
But not presume, in my own flattering hopes,
I may or can enjoy them.
In the Proëme to Herbert's Travels, which were printed not
long after The Maid of Honour, a similar expression is found:
"Great Britaine--containes the summe and abridge of all sorts
of excellencies, _met here like parallels in their proper centre_."
In the life of Dr. H. More (1710) there is a letter to a correspondent
who had sent him a pious treatise, in which the
same expression occurs, and is thus noticed by the doctor:
"There is but one passage that I remember, which will afford
them (the profane and atheistical rout of the age) a disingenuous
satisfaction; which is in p. 489, where you say that _straight
lines drawn from the centre run parallel together_. To a candid
reader your intended sense can be no other than that they run
[Greek: par allêlas], that is, by one another; which they may do,
though they do not run all along equidistantly one by another,
which is the mathematical sense of the word parallel."--_Gent.
Mag._ May, 1782. The good doctor is, I think, the best critic
on the subject that has yet appeared, and sufficiently explains
Massinger.--GIFFORD.
_Bert._ How you ruin
What you would seem to build up! I know no
Disparity between us: you're an heir,
Sprung from a noble family; fair, rich, young,
And every way my equal.
_Cam._ Sir, excuse me;
One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses
The eagle and the wren[146]:--tissue and frieze
In the same garment, monstrous! But suppose
That what 's in you excessive were diminish'd,
And my desert supplied; the stronger bar,
Religion, stops our entrance: you are, sir,
A knight of Malta, by your order bound
To a single life; you cannot marry me;
And, I assure myself, you are too noble
To seek me, though my frailty should consent,
In a base path.
_Bert._ A dispensation, lady,
Will easily absolve me.
_Cam._ O take heed, sir!
When what is vow'd to heaven is dispensed with,
To serve our ends on earth, a curse must follow,
And not a blessing.
_Bert._ Is there no hope left me?
_Cam._ Nor to myself, but is a neighbour to
Impossibility. True love should walk
On equal feet; in us it does not, sir:
But rest assured, excepting this, I shall be
Devoted to your service.
_Bert._ And this is your
Determinate sentence?
_Cam._ Not to be revoked.
_Bert._ Farewell, then, fairest cruel! all thoughts in me
Of women perish. Let the glorious light
Of noble war extinguish Love's dim taper.
That only lends me light to see my folly:
Honour, be thou my ever-living mistress,
And fond affection, as thy bond-slave, serve thee!
[_Exit._
_Cam._ How soon my sun is set, he being absent,
Never to rise again! What a fierce battle
Is fought between my passions!
_Syl._ I perceive
He has his answer: now must I step in
To comfort her. [Comes forward.] You have found, I hope, sweet lady,
Some difference between a youth of my pitch,
And this bugbear Bertoldo. Despair not; I
May be in time entreated.
_Cam._ Be so now, to leave me.--
Lights for my chamber! O my heart!
[_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[144] _A piece of motley_,] i. e. _a fool_. Alluding to the
parti-coloured garments worn by the domestic _fool_ of our
ancestors.--GIFFORD.
[145] _We are not parallels; but, like lines divided,
Can ne'er meet in one centre._] Not only Massinger, but many of
our old writers, use _parallels_ for _radii_.
[146] _One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses
The eagle and the wren._] _Aerie_ is the nest of a bird of prey;
_disclose_ is to hatch: the meaning is, eagles and wrens are too
disproportionate in bulk to be _hatched_ in the same
nest.--GIFFORD.
ACT II. SCENE I.
_The same. A Room in the Palace._
_Enter_ ROBERTO, FULGENTIO, _and_ ASTUTIO.
_Rob._ Embark'd to-night, do you say?
_Ful._ I saw him aboard, sir.
_Rob._ And without taking of his leave?
_Ast._ 'Twas strange!
_Rob._ Are we grown so contemptible?
_Ful._ 'Tis far
From me, sir, to add fuel to your anger,
That, in your ill opinion of him, burns
Too hot already; else, I should affirm
It was a gross neglect.
_Rob._ A wilful scorn
Of duty and allegiance; you give it
Too fair a name: but we shall think on 't. Can you
Guess what the numbers were, that follow'd him
In his desperate action?
_Ful._ More than you think, sir.
All ill-affected spirits in Palermo,
Or to your government or person, with
The turbulent swordmen, such whose poverty forced them
To wish a change, are gone along with him;
Creatures devoted to his undertakings,
In right or wrong: and, to express their zeal
And readiness to serve him, ere they went,
Profanely took the sacrament on their knees,
To live and die with him.
_Rob._ O most impious!
Their loyalty to us forgot?
_Ful._ I fear so.
_Ast._ Unthankful as they are!
_Ful._ Yet this deserves not
One troubled thought in you, sir; with your pardon,
I hold that their remove from hence makes more
For your security than danger.
_Rob._ True;
And, as I'll fashion it, they shall feel it too.
Astutio, you shall presently be despatch'd
With letters, writ and sign'd with our own hand,
To the duchess of Sienna, in excuse
Of our part in these forces sent against her.
You must, beside, from us take some instructions,
To be imparted, as you judge them useful,
To the general Gonzaga. Instantly
Prepare you for your journey.
_Ast._ With the wings
Of loyalty and duty. [_Exit._
_Ful._ I am bold
To put your majesty in mind----
_Rob._ Of my promise,
And aids, to further you in your amorous project
To the fair and rich Camiola? there's my ring;
Whatever you shall say that I entreat,
Or can command by power, I will make good.
_Ful._ Ever your majesty's creature.
_Rob._ Venus prove
Propitious to you! [_Exit._
_Ful._ All sorts to my wishes:
Bertoldo was my hindrance; he removed,
I now will court her in the conqueror's style;
"Come, see, and overcome."--Boy!
_Enter Page._
_Page._ Sir; your pleasure?
_Ful._ Haste to Camiola; bid her prepare
An entertainment suitable to a fortune
She could not hope for. Tell her, I vouchsafe
To honour her with a visit.
_Page._ 'Tis a favour
Will make her proud.
_Ful._ I know it.
_Page._ I am gone, sir. [_Exit._
_Ful._ Entreaties fit not me; a man in grace
May challenge awe and privilege, by his place. [_Exit._
SCENE II.
_The same. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.
_Enter_ ADORNI, SYLLI, _and_ CLARINDA.
_Ador._ So melancholy, say you!
_Clar._ Never given
To such retirement.
_Ador._ Can you guess the cause?
_Clar._ If it hath not its birth and being from
The brave Bertoldo's absence, I confess
'Tis past my apprehension.
_Syl._ You are wide,
The whole field wide[147]. I, in my understanding,
Pity your ignorance.
_Ador._ Resolve us.
_Syl._ Know,
Here walks the cause. She dares not look upon me;
My beauties are so terrible and enchanting,
She cannot endure my sight.
_Ador._ There I believe you.
_Syl._ But the time will come, be comforted, when I will
Put off this vizor of unkindness to her,
And show an amorous and yielding face:
And, until then, though Hercules himself
Desire to see her, he had better eat
His club, than pass her threshold; for I will be
Her Cerberus, to guard her.
_Ador._ A good dog!
_Clar._ Worth twenty porters.
_Enter Page._
_Page._ Keep you open house here?
No groom to attend a gentleman! O, I spy one.
_Syl._ He means not me, I am sure.
_Page._ You, sirrah sheep's-head,
With a face cut on a cat-stick[148], do you hear?
You, yeoman fewterer[149], conduct me to
The lady of the mansion, or my poniard
Shall disembogue thy soul.
_Syl._ O terrible! _disembogue!_
I talk'd of Hercules, and here is one
Bound up in _decimo sexto_.
_Page._ Answer, wretch.
_Syl._ Pray you, little gentleman, be not so furious:
The lady keeps her chamber.
_Page._ And we present,
Sent on an embassy to her! but here is
Her gentlewoman. Sirrah! hold my cloak,
While I take a leap at her lips: do it, and neatly;
Or, having first tripp'd up thy heels, I'll make
Thy back my footstool. [_Kisses_ CLARINDA.
_Syl._ Tamberlane in little!
Am I turn'd Turk[150]! What an office am I put to!
_Clar._ My lady, gentle youth, is indisposed.
_Page._ Though she were dead and buried, only tell her,
The great man in the court, the brave Fulgentio,
Descends to visit her, and it will raise her
Out of the grave for joy.
_Enter_ FULGENTIO.
_Syl._ Here comes another!
The devil, I fear, in his holiday clothes.
_Page._ So soon!
My part is at an end then. Cover my shoulders;
When I grow great, thou shalt serve me.
_Ful._ Are you, sirrah,
An implement of the house? [_To_ SYLLI.
_Syl._ Sure he will make
A jointstool of me!
_Ful._ Or, if you belong [_To_ ADOR.
To the lady of the place, command her hither.
_Ador._ I do not wear her livery, yet acknowledge
A duty to her; and as little bound
To serve your peremptory will, as she is
To obey your summons. 'Twill become you, sir,
To wait her leisure; then, her pleasure known,
You may present your duty.
_Ful._ Duty! Slave,
I'll teach you manners.
_Ador._ I'm past learning; make not
A tumult in the house.
_Ful._ Shall I be braved thus? [_They draw._
_Clar._ Help! murder!
_Enter_ CAMIOLA.
_Cam._ What insolence is this? Adorni, hold,
Hold, I command you.
_Ful._ Saucy groom!
_Cam._ Not so, sir;
However, in his life, he had dependence
Upon my father, he's a gentleman,
As well born as yourself. Put on your hat.
_Ful._ In my presence, without leave!
_Syl._ He has mine, madam.
_Cam._ And I must tell you, sir, and in plain language,
Howe'er your glittering outside promise gentry,
The rudeness of your carriage and behaviour
Speaks you a coarser thing.
_Syl._ She means a clown, sir;
I am her interpreter, for want of a better.
_Cam._ I am a queen in mine own house; nor must you
Expect an empire here.
_Syl._ Sure I must love her
Before the day, the pretty soul's so valiant.
_Cam._ What are you? and what would you with me?
_Ful._ Proud one,
When you know what I am, and what I came for,
And may, on your submission, proceed to,
You, in your reason, must repent the coarseness
Of my entertainment.
_Cam._ Why, fine man? what are you?
_Ful._ A kinsman of the king's.
_Cam._ I cry you mercy,
For his sake, not your own. But, grant you are so,
'Tis not impossible but a king may have
A fool to his kinsman,--no way meaning you, sir.
_Ful._ You have heard of Fulgentio?
_Cam._ Long since, sir;
A suit-broker in court. He has the worst
Report among good men I ever heard of,
For bribery and extortion: in their prayers,
Widows and orphans curse him for a canker
And caterpillar in the state. I hope,
Sir, you are not the man.
_Ful._ I reply not
As you deserve, being assured you know me;
Pretending ignorance of my person, only
To give me a taste of your wit: 'tis well, and courtly;
I like a sharp wit well.
_Syl._ I cannot endure it;
Nor any of the Syllis.
_Ful._ More; I know, too,
This harsh induction must serve as a foil
To the well-tuned observance and respect
You will hereafter pay me, being made
Familiar with my credit with the king,
And that (contain your joy) I deign to love you.
_Cam._ Love me! I am not rapt with it.
_Ful._ Hear 't again;
I love you honestly: now you admire me.
_Cam._ I do, indeed; it being a word so seldom
Heard from a courtier's mouth. But, pray you, deal plainly,
Since you find me simple; what might be the motives
Inducing you to leave the freedom of
A bachelor's life, on your soft neck to wear
The stubborn yoke of marriage; and, of all
The beauties in Palermo, to choose me,
Poor me? that is the main point you must treat of.
_Ful._ Why, I will tell you. Of a little thing
You are a pretty peat[151], indifferent fair too;
And, like a new-rigg'd ship, both tight and yare:
Besides, the quickness of your eye assures
An active spirit.
_Cam._ You are pleasant, sir;
Yet I presume that there was one thing in me,
Unmention'd yet, that took you more than all
Those parts you have remember'd.
_Ful._ What?
_Cam._ My wealth, sir.
_Ful._ You are in the right; without that, beauty is
A flower worn in the morning, at night trod on:
But beauty, youth, and fortune meeting in you,
I will vouchsafe to marry you.
_Cam._ You speak well;
And, in return, excuse me, sir, if I
Deliver reasons why, upon no terms,
I'll marry you: I fable not.
_Syl._ I am glad
To hear this: I began to have an ague.
_Ful._ Come, your wise reasons.
_Cam._ Such as they are, pray take them:
First, I am doubtful whether you are a man,
Since, for your shape, trimm'd up in a lady's dressing,
You might pass for a woman; for the fairness
Of your complexion, which you think will take me,
The colour, I must tell you, in a man,
Is weak and faint, and never will hold out,
If put to labour: give me the lovely brown,
A thick curl'd hair of the same die, a leg without
An artificial calf;--I suspect yours;
But let that pass.
_Syl._ She means me all this while,
For I have every one of those good parts;
O Sylli! fortunate Sylli!
_Cam._ You are moved, sir.
_Ful._ Fie! no; go on.
_Cam._ Then, as you are a courtier,
A graced one too, I fear you have been too forward;
And so much for your person. One word more,
And I have done.
_Ful._ I'll ease you of the trouble,
Coy and disdainful!
_Cam._ Save me, or else he'll beat me.
_Ful._ No, your own folly shall; and, since you put me
To my last charm, look upon this, and tremble.
[_Shows the king's ring._
_Cam._ At the sight of a fair ring! the king's, I take it?
I have seen him wear the like: if he hath sent it,
As a favour, to me----
_Ful._ Yes, 'tis very likely,
His dying mother's gift, prized as his crown!
By this he does command you to be mine;
By his gift you are so:--you may yet redeem all.
_Cam._ You are in a wrong account still. Though the king may
Dispose of my life and goods, my mind's mine own,
And never shall be yours. The king, heaven bless him!
Is good and gracious, and will not compel
His subjects against their wills. I believe,
Forgetting it when he wash'd his hands, you stole it,
With an intent to awe me. But you are cozen'd;
I am still myself, and will be.
_Ful._ A proud haggard[152],
And not to be reclaim'd! which of your grooms,
Your coachman, fool, or footman, is the lover
Preferr'd before me?
_Cam._ You are foul-mouth'd.
_Ful._ Much fairer
Than thy black soul; and so I will proclaim thee.
_Cam._ Were I a man, thou durst not speak this.
_Ful._ Heaven
So prosper me, as I resolve to do it
To all men, and in every place: scorn'd by
A tit of ten-pence! [_Exeunt_ FULGENTIO _and Page_.
_Syl._ Now I begin to be valiant:
Nay, I will draw my sword. O for a brother[153]!
Do a friend's part; pray you, carry him the length of 't.
I give him three years and a day to match my Toledo,
And then we'll fight like dragons.
_Ador._ Pray, have patience.
_Cam._ I may live to have vengeance: my Bertoldo
Would not have heard this.
_Ador._ Madam,----
_Cam._ Pray you, spare
Your language. Prithee fool[154], and make me merry. [_To_ SYLLI.
_Syl._ That is my office ever.
_Ador._ I must do,
Not talk; this glorious gallant shall hear from me.
[_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[147] _The whole field wide._] This expression, however signior Sylli
picked it up, is a Latinism: _Erras, tota via aberras._--GIFFORD.
[148] _A cat-stick._] This, I believe, is what is now called a
_buck-stick_, used by children in the game of tip-cat, or
kit-cat.--GIFFORD.
[149] _Fewterer_,] i. e. _a dog-keeper_, or one who lets the dogs
loose in the chase. The word is a corruption of the French
_vautrier_, or _vaultier_.
[150] _Tamberlane in little!
Am I turned Turk!_] _Tamberlane_ was a proverbial term for a
_bully_. _To turn Turk_, in our old dramatists, is generally used
for a change of situation, occupation, mode of thought or action.
The allusion, perhaps, is to the story of Tamberlane, who is said
to have mounted his horse from the back of Bajazet, the Turkish
emperor.--GIFFORD.
[151] _Peat_,] i. e. _a delicate person_. The modern word pet is
supposed to be the same, probably from the French _petit_.
[152] _Haggard_,] i. e. _a wild hawk_.
[153] _O for a brother_,] i. e. _a brother in arms_, to do what he
immediately requests Adorni to do for him: the expression was
common at the time, and well understood by Massinger's
audience.--GIFFORD.
[154] _Fool_,] i. e. _play the fool_.
SCENE III.
_The Siennese. A Camp before the Walls of Sienna._
_Chambers shot off: a Flourish as to an Assault: after which, enter_
GONZAGA, PIERIO, RODERIGO, JACOMO, _and Soldiers_.
_Gonz._ Is the breach made assaultable?
_Pier._ Yes, and the moat
Fill'd up; the cannoneer hath done his parts;
We may enter six abreast.
_Rod._ There's not a man
Dares show himself upon the wall.
_Jac._ Defeat not
The soldiers' hoped-for spoil.
_Pier._ If you, sir,
Delay the assault, and the city be given up
To your discretion, you in honour cannot
Use the extremity of war,--but, in
Compassion to them, you to us prove cruel.
_Jac._ And an enemy to yourself.
_Rod._ A hindrance to
The brave revenge you have vow'd.
_Gonz._ Temper your heat,
And lose not, by too sudden rashness, that
Which, be but patient, will be offer'd to you.
Security ushers ruin; proud contempt
Of an enemy three parts vanquish'd, with desire
And greediness of spoil, have often wrested
A certain victory from the conqueror's gripe.
Discretion is the tutor of the war.
Valour the pupil; and, when we command
With lenity, and our direction's follow'd
With cheerfulness, a prosperous end must crown
Our works well undertaken.
_Rod._ Ours are finish'd----
_Pier._ If we make use of fortune.
_Gonz._ Her false smiles
Deprive you of your judgments. The condition
Of our affairs exacts a double care,
And, like bifronted Janus, we must look
Backward, as forward: though a flattering calm
Bids us urge on, a sudden tempest raised,
Not feared, much less expected, in our rear,
May foully fall upon us, and distract us
To our confusion.--
_Enter a Scout, hastily._
Our scout! what brings
Thy ghastly looks, and sudden speed?
_Scout._ The assurance
Of a new enemy.
_Gonz._ This I foresaw and fear'd.
What are they, know'st thou?
_Scout._ They are, by their colours,
Sicilians, bravely mounted, and the brightness
Of their rich armours doubly gilded with
Reflection of the sun.
_Gonz._ From Sicily?----
The king in league! no war proclaim'd! 'tis foul:
But this must be prevented, not disputed.
Ha! how is this? your estridge[155] plumes, that but
Even now, like quills of porcupines, seem'd to threaten
The stars, drop at the rumour of a shower,
And, like to captive colours, sweep the earth!
Bear up; but in great dangers, greater minds
Are never proud. Shall a few loose troops, untrain'd
But in a customary ostentation,
Presented as a sacrifice to your valours,
Cause a dejection in you?
_Pier._ No dejection.
_Rod._ However startled, where you lead we'll follow.
_Gonz._ 'Tis bravely said. We will not stay their charge,
But meet them man to man, and horse to horse.
Pierio, in our absence hold our place;
And with our foot men and those sickly troops
Prevent a sally: I in mine own person,
With part of the cavallery, will bid
These hunters welcome to a bloody breakfast:--
But I lose time.
_Pier._ I'll to my charge. [_Exit._
_Gonz._ And we
To ours: I'll bring you on.
_Jac._ If we come off,
It's not amiss; if not, my state is settled.
[_Exeunt. Alarum within._
FOOTNOTE:
[155] _Estridge_,] i. e. _ostrich_.
SCENE IV.