_Enter_ FERDINAND, DRUSO, _and_ LIVIO, _on the Walls_.
_Fer._ No aids from Sicily! Hath hope forsook us;
And that vain comfort to affliction, pity,
By our vow'd friend denied us? we can nor live
Nor die with honour: like beasts in a toil,
We wait the leisure of the bloody hunter,
Who is not so far reconciled unto us,
As in one death to give a period
To our calamities; but in delaying
The fate we cannot fly from, starved with wants,
We die this night, to live again to-morrow,
And suffer greater torments.
_Dru._ There is not
Three days' provision for every soldier,
At an ounce of bread a day, left in the city.
_Liv._ To die the beggar's death, with hunger made
Anatomies while we live, cannot but crack
Our heart-strings with vexation.
_Fer._ Would they would break,
Break altogether! How willingly, like Cato,
Could I tear out my bowels, rather than
Look on the conqueror's insulting face;
But that religion, and the horrid dream
To be suffer'd in the other world, denies it!
_Enter a Soldier._
What news with thee?
_Sold._ From the turret of the fort,
By the rising clouds of dust, through which, like lightning,
The splendour of bright arms sometimes brake through,
I did descry some forces making towards us;
And, from the camp, as emulous of their glory,
The general, (for I know him by his horse,)
And bravely seconded, encounter'd them.
Their greetings were too rough for friends; their swords,
And not their tongues, exchanging courtesies.
By this the main battalias are join'd;
And, if you please to be spectators of
The horrid issue, I will bring you where,
As in a theatre, you may see their fates
In purple gore presented.
_Fer._ Heaven, if yet thou art
Appeased for my wrong done to Aurelia,
Take pity of my miseries! Lead the way, friend.
[_Exeunt._
SCENE V.
_The same. A Plain near the Camp._
_A long Charge; after which, a Flourish for Victory: then enter_
GONZAGA, JACOMO, _and_ RODERIGO, _wounded_; BERTOLDO, GASPARO, _and_
ANTONIO, _Prisoners. Officers and Soldiers_.
_Gonz._ We have them yet, though they cost us dear. This was
Charged home, and bravely follow'd. Be to yourselves
[_To_ JACOMO _and_ RODERIGO.
True mirrors to each other's worth; and, looking
With noble emulation on his wounds,
[Points to BERT.
The glorious livery of triumphant war,
Imagine these with equal grace appear
Upon yourselves. The bloody sweat you have suffer'd
In this laborious, nay, toilsome harvest,
Yields a rich crop of conquest; and the spoil,
Most precious balsam to a soldier's hurts,
Will ease and cure them. Let me look upon
[GASPARO _and_ ANTONIO _are brought forward_.
The prisoners' faces. Oh, how much transform'd
From what they were! O Mars! were these toys fashion'd
To undergo the burthen of thy service?
The weight of their defensive armour bruised
Their weak effeminate limbs, and would have forced them,
In a hot day, without a blow to yield.
_Ant._ This insultation shows not manly in you.
_Gonz._ To men I had forborne it; you are women,
Or, at the best, loose carpet-knights[156]. What fury
Seduced you to exchange your ease in court
For labour in the field? Perhaps you thought
To charge, through dust and blood, an armed foe,
Was but like graceful running at the ring
For a wanton mistress' glove; and the encounter,
A soft impression on her lips:--but you
Are gaudy butterflies, and I wrong myself
In parling with you.
_Gasp._ _Voe victis!_ now we prove it.
_Rod._ But here's one fashion'd in another mould,
And made of tougher metal.
_Gonz._ True; I owe him
For this wound bravely given.
_Bert._ O that mountains
Were heap'd upon me, that I might expire,
A wretch no more remember'd! [_Aside._
_Gonz._ Look up, sir;
To be o'ercome deserves no shame. If you
Had fallen ingloriously, or could accuse
Your want of courage in resistance, 'twere
To be lamented: but, since you perform'd
As much as could be hoped for from a man,
(Fortune his enemy,) you wrong yourself
In this dejection. I am honour'd in
My victory over you; but to have these
My prisoners, is, in my true judgment, rather
Captivity than a triumph: you shall find
Fair quarter from me, and your many wounds,
Which I hope are not mortal, with such care
Look'd to and cured, as if your nearest friend
Attended on you.
_Bert._ When you know me better,
You will make void this promise: can you call me
Into your memory?
_Gonz._ The brave Bertoldo!
A brother of our order! By St. John,
Our holy patron, I am more amazed,
Nay, thunderstruck with thy apostacy,
And precipice from the most solemn vows
Made unto Heaven when this, the glorious badge
Of our Redeemer, was conferred upon thee
By the great master, than if I had seen
A reprobate Jew, an atheist, Turk, or Tartar,
Baptized in our religion!
_Bert._ This I look'd for;
And am resolved to suffer.
_Gonz._ Fellow-soldiers,
Behold this man, and, taught by his example,
Know that 'tis safer far to play with lightning,
Than trifle in things sacred. In my rage [_Weeps._
I shed these at the funeral of his virtue,
Faith, and religion; why, I will tell you:--
He was a gentleman so train'd up and fashion'd
For noble uses, and his youth did promise
Such certainties, more than hopes, of great achievements,
As--if the Christian world had stood opposed
Against the Othoman race, to try the fortune
Of one encounter--this Bertoldo had been,
For his knowledge to direct, and matchless courage
To execute, without a rival, by
The votes of good men, chosen general;
As the prime soldier, and most deserving
Of all that wear the cross: which now, in justice,
I thus tear from him.
_Bert._ Let me die with it
Upon my breast.
_Gonz._ No; by this thou wert sworn,
On all occasions, as a knight, to guard
Weak ladies from oppression, and never
To draw thy sword against them; whereas thou,
In hope of gain or glory, when a princess,
And such a princess as Aurelia is,
Was dispossess'd by violence of what was
Her true inheritance, against thine oath
Hast, to thy uttermost, labour'd to uphold
Her falling enemy. But thou shalt pay
A heavy forfeiture, and learn too late,
Valour employ'd in an ill quarrel turns
To cowardice, and Virtue then puts on
Foul Vice's visor. This is that which cancels
All friendship's bands between us.--Bear them off;
I will hear no reply: and let the ransom
Of these, for they are yours, be highly rated.
In this I do but right, and let it be
Styled justice, and not wilful cruelty. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTE:
[156] _Carpet-knights._] A term of contempt very frequently used by
our old writers. _Carpet-knights_ were such as were made on
occasion of public festivities, marriages, births, &c., in
contradistinction to those that were created on the field of
battle, after a victory. They were naturally little regarded by
the latter; and, indeed, their title had long been given in scorn,
to effeminate courtiers, favourites, &c.--GIFFORD.
ACT III. SCENE I.
_The same. A Camp before the Walls of Sienna._
_Enter_ GONZAGA, ASTUTIO, RODERIGO, _and_ JACOMO.
_Gonz._ What I have done, sir, by the law of arms
I can and will make good.
_Ast._ I have no commission
To expostulate the act. These letters speak
The king my master's love to you, and his
Vow'd service to the duchess, on whose person
I am to give attendance.
_Gonz._ At this instant,
She's at Fienza: you may spare the trouble
Of riding thither: I have advertised her
Of our success, and on what humble terms
Sienna stands: though presently I can
Possess it, I defer it, that she may
Enter her own, and, as she please, dispose of
The prisoners and the spoil.
_Ast._ I thank you, sir.
In the mean time, if I may have your licence,
I have a nephew, and one once my ward,
For whose liberties and ransoms I would gladly
Make composition.
_Gonz._ They are, as I take it,
Call'd Gasparo and Antonio.
_Ast._ The same, sir.
_Gonz._ For them, you must treat with these; but, for Bertoldo,
He is mine own: if the king will ransom him,
He pays down fifty thousand crowns; if not,
He lives and dies my slave.
_Ast._ Pray you, a word: [_Aside to_ GONZ.
The king will rather thank you to detain him,
Than give one crown to free him.
_Gonz._ At his pleasure.
I'll send the prisoners under guard: my business
Calls me another way. [_Exit._
_Ast._ My service waits you.
Now, gentlemen, for this ransom, since you are not
To be brought lower, there is no evading;
I'll be your paymaster.
_Rod._ We desire no better.
_Ast._ But not a word of what's agreed between us,
Till I have school'd my gallants.
_Jac._ I am dumb, sir.
_Enter a Guard, with_ BERTOLDO, ANTONIO, _and_ GASPARO, _in irons_.
_Bert._ And where removed now? hath the tyrant found out
Worse usage for us?
_Ant._ Worse it cannot be.
My greyhound has fresh straw, and scraps, in his kennel;
But we have neither.
_Gasp._ Did I ever think
To wear such garters on silk stockings? or
That my too curious appetite, that turn'd
At the sight of godwits, pheasant, partridge, quails,
Larks, woodcocks, calver'd salmon[157], as coarse diet,
Would leap at a mouldy crust?
_Ant._ And go without it,
So oft as I do? Oh! how have I jeer'd
The city entertainment! A huge shoulder
Of glorious fat ram-mutton, seconded
With a pair of tame cats or conies, a crab-tart,
With a worthy loin of veal, and valiant capon,
Mortified to grow tender!--these I scorn'd,
From their plentiful horn of abundance, though invited:
But now I could carry my own stool to a tripe[158],
And call their chitterlings charity, and bless the founder.
_Bert._ O that I were no further sensible
Of my miseries than you are! you, like beasts,
Feel only stings of hunger, and complain not
But when you're empty: but your narrow souls
(If you have any) cannot comprehend
How insupportable the torments are,
Which a free and noble soul, made captive, suffers.
Most miserable men!--and what am I, then,
That envy you? Fetters, though made of gold,
Express base thraldom; and all delicates
Prepared by Median cooks for epicures,
When not our own, are bitter: quilts fill'd high
With gossamere and roses cannot yield
The body soft repose, the mind kept waking
With anguish and affliction.
_Ast._ My good lord----
_Bert._ This is no time nor place for flattery, sir:
Pray you, style me as I am, a wretch forsaken
Of the world, as myself.
_Ast._ I would it were
In me to help you.
_Bert._ If that you want power, sir,
Lip-comfort cannot cure me. Pray you, leave me
To mine own private thoughts. [_Walks by._
_Ast._ [_comes forward._] My valiant nephew!
And my more than warlike ward! I am glad to see you,
After your glorious conquests. Are these chains
Rewards for your good service? if they are,
You should wear them on your necks, since they are massy,
Like aldermen of the war.
_Ant._ You jeer us too!
_Gasp._ Good uncle, name not, as you are a man of honour,
That fatal word of war; the very sound of it
Is more dreadful than a cannon.
_Ant._ But redeem us
From this captivity, and I'll vow hereafter
Never to wear a sword, or cut my meat
With a knife that has an edge or point; I'll starve first.
_Ast._ Well, have more wit hereafter: for this time
You are ransom'd.
_Jac._ Off with their irons!
_Rod._ Do, do:
If you are ours again, you know your price.
_Ant._ Pray you, despatch us: I shall ne'er believe
I am a free man, till I set my foot
In Sicily again, and drink Palermo,
And in Palermo too.
_Ast._ The wind sits fair;
You shall aboard to-night: with the rising sun
You may touch upon the coast. But take your leaves
Of the late general first.
_Gasp._ I will be brief.
_Ant._ And I. My lord, Heaven keep you!
_Gasp._ Yours, to use
In the way of peace; but as your soldiers, never.
_Ant._ A pox of war! no more of war.
[_Exeunt_ ROD. JAC. ANT. _and_ GASP.
_Bert._ Have you
Authority to loose their bonds, yet leave
The brother of your king, whose worth disdains
Comparison with such as these, in irons?
If ransom may redeem them, I have lands,
A patrimony of mine own, assign'd me
By my deceased sire, to satisfy
Whate'er can be demanded for my freedom.
_Ast._ I wish you had, sir; but the king, who yields
No reason for his will, in his displeasure
Hath seized on all you had; nor will Gonzaga,
Whose prisoner now you are, accept of less
Than fifty thousand crowns.
_Bert._ I find it now,
That misery never comes alone. But, grant
The king is yet inexorable, time
May work him to a feeling of my sufferings.
I have friends that swore their lives and fortunes were
At my devotion, and, among the rest,
Yourself, my lord, when forfeited to the law
For a foul murder, and in cold blood done,
I made your life my gift, and reconciled you
To this incensed king, and got your pardon.
--Beware ingratitude! I know you are rich,
And may pay down the sum.
_Ast._ I might, my lord;
But pardon me.
_Bert._ And will Astutio prove, then,
To please a passionate man, (the king's no more,)
False to his maker, and his reason, which
Commands more than I ask? O summer friendship,
Whose flattering leaves, that shadow'd us in our
Prosperity, with the least gust drop off
In the autumn of adversity! How like
A prison is to a grave! when dead, we are
With solemn pomp brought thither, and our heirs,
Masking their joy in false dissembled tears,
Weep o'er the herse; but earth no sooner covers
The earth brought thither, but they turn away,
With inward smiles, the dead no more remember'd:
So, enter'd in a prison----
_Ast._ My occasions
Command me hence, my lord.
_Bert._ Pray you, leave me, do;
And tell the cruel king, that I will wear
These fetters till my flesh and they are one
Incorporated substance. [_Exit_ ASTUTIO.] In myself,
As in a glass, I'll look on human frailty,
And curse the height of royal blood; since I,
In being born near to Jove, am near his thunder[159].
Cedars once shaken with a storm, their own
Weight grubs their roots out.--Lead me where you please;
I am his, not fortune's martyr, and will die
The great example of his cruelty. [_Exit guarded._
FOOTNOTES:
[157] _Calver'd salmon_ appears to have differed but little from what
is now called pickled salmon, as the directions for preparing it
are--"to boil it in vinegar with oil and spices." The word is
still in use, but not in the exact sense of the text. To _calver_
fish is now a very simple process.--GIFFORD.
[158] --------_To a tripe_,] i. e. _to a tripe shop_. By "carrying his
own stool," he means that he would not wait for the formality of
an invitation, but trust to the vender's hospitality for a meal.
The singular custom of uninvited or unexpected guests bringing
their seats with them is frequently noticed by the writers of
Massinger's time. It is probable that the practice originated in
necessity. Our ancient houses were not much encumbered with
furniture, and the little which they had was moved from place to
place as occasion required.--GIFFORD.
[159] _In being born near to Jove, am near his thunder._] [Greek:
Porrhô Dios kai te porrho keraunou].
SCENE II.
_Palermo. A Grove near the Palace._
_Enter_ ADORNI.
_Ador._ He undergoes my challenge, and contemns it,
And threatens me with the late edict made
'Gainst duellists,--the altar cowards fly to.
But I, that am engaged, and nourish in me
A higher aim than fair Camiola dreams of,
Must not sit down thus. In the court I dare not
Attempt him; and in public he's so guarded,
With a herd of parasites, clients, fools, and suitors,
That a musket cannot reach him:--my designs
Admit of no delay. This is her birthday,
Which, with a fit and due solemnity,
Camiola celebrates: and on it, all such
As love or serve her usually present
A tributary duty. I'll have something
To give, if my intelligence prove true,
Shall find acceptance. I am told, near this grove
Fulgentio, every morning, makes his markets
With his petitioners; I may present him
With a sharp petition!----Ha! 'tis he: my fate
Be ever bless'd for 't!
_Enter_ FULGENTIO _and Page_.
_Ful._ Command such as wait me
Not to presume, at the least for half an hour,
To press on my retirements. Begone, sir.
[_Exit Page._
Challenged! 'tis well; and by a groom! still better.
Was this shape made to fight? I have a tongue yet,
Howe'er no sword, to kill him; and what way,
This morning I'll resolve of. [_Exit._
_Ador._ I shall cross
Your resolution, or suffer for you.
[_Exit following him._
SCENE III.
_The same. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.
_Enter_ CAMIOLA, _followed by Servants with Presents_; SYLLI, _and_
CLARINDA.
_Syl._ What are all these?
_Clar._ Servants with several presents,
And rich ones too.
_1 Serv._ With her best wishes, madam,
Of many such days to you, the lady Petula
Presents you with this fan.
_2 Serv._ This diamond,
From your aunt Honoria.
_3 Serv._ This piece of plate
From your uncle, old Vicentio, with your arms
Graven upon it.
_Cam._ Good friends, they are too
Munificent in their love and favour to me.
Out of my cabinet return such jewels
As this directs you:--[_To_ CLARINDA.]--for your pains; and yours;
Nor must you be forgotten. [_Gives them money._] Honour me
With the drinking of a health.
_1 Serv._ Gold, on my life!
_2 Serv._ She scorns to give base silver.
_3 Serv._ Would she had been
Born every month in the year!
_1 Serv._ Month! every day.
_2 Serv._ Show such another maid.
_3 Serv._ All happiness wait you!
_Clar._ I'll see your will done.
[_Exeunt_ SYLLI, CLARINDA, _and Servants_.
_Enter_ ADORNI _wounded_.
_Cam._ How, Adorni wounded!
_Ador._ A scratch got in your service, else not worth
Your observation: I bring not, madam,
In honour of your birthday, antique plate,
Or pearl, for which the savage Indian dives
Into the bottom of the sea; nor diamonds
Hewn from steep rocks with danger. Such as give
To those that have, what they themselves want, aim at
A glad return with profit: yet, despise not
My offering at the altar of your favour;
Nor let the lowness of the giver lessen
The height of what's presented; since it is
A precious jewel, almost forfeited,
And dimm'd with clouds of infamy, redeem'd,
And, in its natural splendour, with addition
Restored to the true owner.
_Cam._ How is this?
_Ador._ Not to hold you in suspense, I bring you, madam,
Your wounded reputation cured, the sting
Of virulent malice, festering your fair name,
Pluck'd out and trod on. That proud man, that was
Denied the honour of your hand, yet durst,
With his untrue reports, revile your fame,
Compell'd by me, hath given himself the lie,
And in his own blood wrote it:--you may read
Fulgentio subscribed. [_Offering a paper._
_Cam._ I am amazed!
_Ador._ It does deserve it, madam. Common service
Is fit for hinds, and the reward proportion'd
To their conditions: therefore, look not on me
As a follower of your father's fortunes, or
One that subsists on yours:--you frown! my service
Merits not this aspéct.
_Cam._ Which of my favours,
I might say bounties, hath begot and nourish'd
This more than rude presumption? Since you had
An itch to try your desperate valour, wherefore
Went you not to the war? Couldst thou suppose
My innocence could ever fall so low
As to have need of thy rash sword to guard it
Against malicious slander? O how much
Those ladies are deceived and cheated, when
The clearness and integrity of their actions
Do not defend themselves, and stand secure
On their own bases! Such as in a colour
Of seeming service give protection to them,
Betray their own strengths. Malice scorn'd, puts out
Itself; but argued, gives a kind of credit
To a false accusation. In this, this your
Most memorable service, you believed
You did me right; but you have wrong'd me more
In your defence of my undoubted honour,
Than false Fulgentio could.
_Ador._ I am sorry what was
So well intended is so ill received;
_Re-enter_ CLARINDA.
Yet, under your correction, you wish'd
Bertoldo had been present.
_Cam._ True, I did:
But he and you, sir, are not parallels,
Nor must you think yourself so.
_Ador._ I am what
You'll please to have me.
_Cam._ If Bertoldo had
Punish'd Fulgentio's insolence, it had shown
His love to her whom, in his judgment, he
Vouchsafed to make his wife; a height, I hope,
Which you dare not aspire to. The same actions
Suit not all men alike;--but I perceive
Repentance in your looks. For this time, leave me;
I may forgive, perhaps forget, your folly:
Conceal yourself till this storm be blown over.
You will be sought for; yet, if my estate
[_Gives him her hand to kiss._
Can hinder it, shall not suffer in my service.
[_Exit_ ADORNI.
This gentleman is of a noble temper;
And I too harsh, perhaps, in my reproof:
Was I not, Clarinda?
_Clar._ I am not to censure
Your actions, madam; but there are a thousand
Ladies, and of good fame, in such a cause
Would be proud of such a servant.
_Cham._ It may be;
_Enter a Servant._
Let me offend in this kind. Why, uncall'd for?
_Serv._ The signiors, madam, Gasparo and Antonio,
Selected friends of the renown'd Bertoldo,
Put ashore this morning.
_Cam._ Without him?
_Serv._ I think so.
_Cam._ Never think more then.
_Serv._ They have been at court,
Kiss'd the king's hand; and, their first duties done
To him, appear ambitious to tender
To you their second service.
_Cam._ Wait them hither. [_Exit Servant._
Fear, do not rack me! Reason, now, if ever,
Haste with thy aids, and tell me, such a wonder
As my Bertoldo is, with such care fashion'd,
Must not, nay, cannot, in Heaven's providence
_Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ GASPARO.
So soon miscarry!--pray you, forbear; ere you take
The privilege, as strangers, to salute me,
(Excuse my manners,) make me first understand
How it is with Bertoldo.
_Gasp._ The relation
Will not, I fear, deserve your thanks.
_Ant._ I wish
Some other should inform you.
_Cam._ Is he dead?
You see, though with some fear, I dare inquire it.
_Gasp._ Dead! Would that were the worst; a debt were paid then,
Kings in their birth owe nature.
_Cam._ Is there aught
More terrible than death?
_Ant._ Yes, to a spirit
Like his; cruel imprisonment, and that
Without the hope of freedom.
_Cam._ You abuse me[160]:
The royal king cannot, in love to virtue,
(Though all springs of affection were dried up,)
But pay his ransom.
_Gasp._ When you know what 'tis,
You will think otherwise: no less will do it
Than fifty thousand crowns.
_Cam._ A petty sum,
The price weigh'd with the purchase: fifty thousand!
To the king 'tis nothing. He that can spare more
To his minion for a masque, cannot but ransom
Such a brother at a million. You wrong
The king's magnificence.
_Ant._ In your opinion;
But 'tis most certain: he does not alone
In himself refuse to pay it, but forbids
All other men.
_Cam._ Are you sure of this?
_Gasp._ You may read
The edict to that purpose, publish'd by him;
That will resolve you.
_Cam._ Possible! pray you, stand off.
If I do not mutter treason to myself,
My heart will break; and yet I will not curse him;
He is my king. The news you have deliver'd
Makes me weary of your company; we'll salute
When we meet next. I'll bring you to the door.
Nay, pray you, no more compliments.
_Gasp._ One thing more,
And that's substantial: let your Adorni
Look to himself.
_Ant._ The king is much incensed
Against him for Fulgentio.
_Cam._ As I am,
For your slowness to depart.
_Both._ Farewell, sweet lady.
[_Exeunt_ GASPARO _and_ ANTONIO.
_Cam._ O more than impious times! when not alone
Subordinate ministers of justice are
Corrupted and seduced, but kings themselves,
The greater wheels by which the lesser move,
Are broken, or disjointed! could it be, else,
A king, to sooth his politic ends, should so far
Forsake his honour, as at once to break
The adamant chains of nature and religion,
To bind up atheism[161], as a defence
To his dark counsels? Will it ever be,
That to deserve too much is dangerous,
And virtue, when too eminent, a crime?
Must she serve fortune still, or, when stripp'd of
Her gay and glorious favours, lose the beauties
Of her own natural shape? O, my Bertoldo,
Thou only sun in honour's sphere, how soon
Art thou eclipsed and darken'd! not the nearness
Of blood prevailing on the king; nor all
The benefits to the general good dispensed,
Gaining a retribution! But that
To owe a courtesy to a simple virgin
Would take from the deserving, I find in me
Some sparks of fire, which, fann'd with honour's breath,
Might rise into a flame, and in men darken
Their usurp'd splendour. Ha! my aim is high,
And, for the honour of my sex, to fall so,
Can never prove inglorious.--'Tis resolved:
Call in Adorni.
_Clar._ I am happy in
Such an employment, madam. [_Exit._
_Cam._ He's a man,
I know, that at a reverent distance loves me;
And such are ever faithful. What a sea
Of melting ice I walk on! what strange censures
Am I to undergo! but good intents
Deride all future rumours.
_Re-enter_ CLARINDA _with_ ADORNI.
_Ador._ I obey
Your summons, madam.
_Cam._ Leave the place, Clarinda;
One woman, in a secret of such weight,
Wise men may think too much: [_Exit_ CLARINDA.] nearer, Adorni.
I warrant it with a smile.
_Ador._ I cannot ask
Safer protection; what's your will?
_Cam._ To doubt
Your ready desire to serve me, or prepare you
With the repetition of former merits,
Would, in my diffidence, wrong you: but I will,
And without circumstance, in the trust that I
Impose upon you, free you from suspicion.
_Ador._ I foster none of you.
_Cam._ I know you do not.
You are, Adorni, by the love you owe me----
_Ador._ The surest conjuration.
_Cam._ Take me with you[162].--
Love born of duty; but advance no further.
You are, sir, as I said, to do me service,
To undertake a task, in which your faith,
Judgment, discretion--in a word, your all
That's good, must be engaged; nor must you study,
In the execution, but what may make
For the ends I aim at.
_Ador._ They admit no rivals.
_Cam._ You answer well. You have heard of Bertoldo's
Captivity, and the king's neglect; the greatness
Of his ransom; fifty thousand crowns, Adorni;
Two parts of my estate!
_Ador._ To what tends this? [_Aside._
_Cam._ Yet I so love the gentleman, for to you
I will confess my weakness, that I purpose
Now, when he is forsaken by the king,
And his own hopes, to ransom him, and receive him
Into my bosom, as my lawful husband--
Why change you colour?
_Ador._ 'Tis in wonder of
Your virtue, madam.
_Cam._ You must, therefore, to
Sienna for me, and pay to Gonzaga
This ransom for his liberty; you shall have
Bills of exchange along with you. Let him swear
A solemn contract to me; for you must be
My principal witness, if he should--but why
Do I entertain these jealousies? You will do this?
_Ador._ Faithfully, madam--but not live long after. [_Aside._
_Cam._ One thing I had forgot: besides his freedom,
He may want accomodations; furnish him
According to his birth.
I'll instantly despatch you. [_Exit._
_Ador._ Was there ever
Poor lover so employ'd against himself,
To make way for his rival? I must do it,
Nay, more, I will. If loyalty can find
Recompense beyond hope or imagination,
Let it fall on me in the other world,
As a reward, for in this I dare not hope it. [_Exit._
FOOTNOTES:
[160] _Abuse me_,] i. e. _practise on my credulity with a forged
tale_; the word often occurs in this sense.--GIFFORD.
[161] _Atheism._] Our old writers seem to have used such words as
profaneness, blasphemy, _atheism_, &c. with a laxity which modern
practice does not acknowledge. They applied them to any
extraordinary violation of moral or natural decorum.--GIFFORD.
[162] _Take me with you._] i. e. _hear me out_. The expression is
common in our old writers.--GIFFORD.
ACT IV. SCENE I.
_The Siennese. A Camp before the Walls of Sienna._
_Enter_ GONZAGA _and_ PIERIO.
_Gonz._ You have seized upon the citadel, and disarm'd
All that could make resistance?
_Pier._ Hunger had
Done that, before we came; nor was the soldier
Compell'd to seek for prey: the famish'd wretches,
In hope of mercy, as a sacrifice offer'd
All that was worth the taking.
_Gonz._ Where is the duke of Urbin?
_Pier._ Under guard,
As you directed.
_Gonz._ See the soldiers set
In rank and file, and, as the duchess passes,
Bid them vail their ensigns.
_Loud music. Enter_ RODERIGO, JACOMO, _and_ AURELIA _under a Canopy_.
ASTUTIO _presents her with letters_.
_Aurel._ But for these aids from Sicily sent against us,
To blast our spring of conquest in the bud;
I cannot find, my lord ambassador,
How we should entertain 't but as a wrong,
With purpose to detain us from our own,
Howe'er the king endeavours, in his letters,
To mitigate the affront.
_Ast._ Your grace hereafter
May hear from me such strong assurances
Of his unlimited desires to serve you,
As will, I hope, drown in forgetfulness
The memory of what's past.
_Aurel._ We shall take time
To search the depth of 't further, and proceed
As our council shall direct us.
_Gonz._ We present you
With the keys of the city; all lets are removed,
Your way is smooth and easy; at your feet
Your proudest enemy falls.
_Aurel._ We thank your valours:
A victory without blood is twice achieved,
And the disposure of it, to us tender'd,
The greatest honour. Worthy captains, thanks!
My love extends itself to all.
_Gonz._ Make way there.
[_A Guard drawn up_; AURELIA _passes through them_. _Loud music._
[_Exeunt._
SCENE II.
_Sienna. A Room in the Prison._
BERTOLDO _is discovered in fetters, reading_.
_Bert._ 'Tis here determined, (great examples, arm'd
With arguments, produced to make it good,)
That neither tyrants, nor the wrested laws,
The people's frantic rage, sad exile, want,
Nor that which I endure, captivity,
Can do a wise man any injury.
Thus Seneca, when he wrote it, thought.--But then
Felicity courted him; his wealth exceeding
A private man's; happy in the embraces
Of his chaste wife Paulina; his house full
Of children, clients, servants, flattering friends,
Soothing his lip-positions; and created
Prince of the senate, by the general voice,
At his new pupil's suffrage: then, no doubt,
He held, and did believe, this. But no sooner
The prince's frowns and jealousies had thrown him
Out of security's lap, and a centurion
Had offer'd him what choice of death he pleased,
But told him, die he must; when straight the armour
Of his so boasted fortitude fell off,
[_Throws away the book._
Complaining of his frailty. Can it then
Be censured womanish weakness in me, if,
Thus clogg'd with irons, and the period
To close up all calamities denied me,
Which was presented Seneca, I wish
I ne'er had being; at least, never knew
What happiness was; or argue with heaven's justice,
Tearing my locks, and, in defiance, throwing
Dust in the air? or, falling on the ground, thus
With my nails and teeth to dig a grave, or rend
The bowels of the earth, my step-mother,
And not a natural parent? or thus practise
To die, and, as I were insensible,
Believe I had no motion? [_Falls on his face._
_Enter_ GONZAGA, ADORNI, _and Gaoler_.
_Gonz._ There he is:
I'll not inquire by whom his ransom's paid,
I am satisfied that I have it; nor allege
One reason to excuse his cruel usage,
As you may interpret it: let it suffice
It was my will to have it so. He is yours now,
Dispose of him as you please. [_Exit._
_Ador._ Howe'er I hate him,
As one preferr'd before me, being a man,
He does deserve my pity. Sir!--he sleeps:--
Or he is dead?--[_kneels by him._]--No, he breathes! Come near,
And, if 't be possible, without his feeling,
Take off his irons.--[_His irons taken off._]--So;
now leave us private. [_Exit Gaoler._
He does begin to stir; and, as transported
With a joyful dream, how he stares! and feels his legs,
As yet uncertain whether it can be
True or fantastical.
_Bert._ [_rising._] Ministers of mercy,
Mock not calamity. Ha! 'tis no vision!
Or, if it be, the happiest that ever
Appear'd to sinful flesh! Who's here? his face
Speaks him Adorni;--but some glorious angel,
Concealing its divinity in his shape,
Hath done this miracle, it being not an act
For wolfish man. Resolve me, if thou look'st for
Bent knees in adoration?
_Ador._ O forbear, sir!
I am Adorni, and the instrument
Of your deliverance; but the benefit
You owe another.
_Bert._ If he has a name,
As soon as spoken, 'tis writ on my heart
I am his bondman.
_Ador._ To the shame of men,
This great act is a woman's.
_Bert._ The whole sex
For her sake must be deified. How I wander
In my imagination, yet cannot
Guess who this phoenix should be!
_Ador._ 'Tis Camiola.
_Bert._ Pray you, speak 't again; there's music in her name.
Once more, I pray you, sir.
_Ador._ Camiola,
The MAID OF HONOUR.
_Bert._ Cursed atheist that I was,
Only to doubt it could be any other;
Since she alone, in the abstract of herself,
That small, but ravishing substance, comprehends
Whatever is, or can be wish'd, in the
Idea of a woman! O what service,
Or sacrifice of duty, can I pay her,
If not to live and die her charity's slave,
Which is resolved already!
_Ador._ She expects not
Such a dominion o'er you. You must now,
Which is the sum of all that she desires,
By a solemn contract bind yourself, when she
Requires it, as a debt due for your freedom,
To marry her.
_Bert._ This does engage me further;
A payment! an increase of obligation.
To marry her!--'twas my _nil ultra_ ever:
The end of my ambition. O that now
The holy man, she present, were prepared
To join our hands, but with that speed my heart
Wishes mine eyes might see her!
_Ador._ You must swear this.
_Bert._ False to Camiola! never.--Shall I now
Begin my vows to you?
_Ador._ I am no churchman;
Such a one must file it on record: you are free;
And, that you may appear like to yourself,
(For so she wish'd,) here's gold, with which you may
Redeem your trunks and servants, and whatever
Of late you lost. I have found out the captain
Whose spoil they were; his name is Roderigo.
_Bert._ I know him.
_Ador._ I have done my parts.
_Bert._ So much, sir,
As I am ever yours for 't. Now, methinks,
I walk in air! Divine Camiola----
But words cannot express thee: I'll build to thee
An altar in my soul, on which I'll offer
A still-increasing sacrifice of duty. [_Exit._
_Ador._ What will become of me now is apparent.
This Roman resolution of self-murder
Will not hold water at the high tribunal,
When it comes to be argued; my good Genius
Prompts me to this consideration. He
That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it,
And, at the best, shows but a bastard valour.
This life's a fort committed to my trust,
Which I must not yield up till it be forced:
Nor will I. He's not valiant that dares die,
But he that boldly bears calamity. [_Exit._
SCENE III.
_The same. A State-room in the Palace._
_A Flourish. Enter_ PIERIO, RODERIGO, JACOMO, GONZAGA, AURELIA,
FERDINAND, ASTUTIO, _and Attendants_.
_Aurel._ A seat here for the duke. It is our glory
To overcome with courtesies, not rigour;
The lordly Roman, who held it the height
Of human happiness to have kings and queens
To wait by his triumphant chariot-wheels,
In his insulting pride, deprived himself
Of drawing near the nature of the gods,
Best known for such, in being merciful.
Yet, give me leave, but still with gentle language,
And with the freedom of a friend, to tell you,
To seek by force, what courtship could not win,
Was harsh, and never taught in Love's mild school.
Wise poets feign that Venus' coach is drawn
By doves and sparrows, not by bears and tigers.
I spare the application.
_Fer._ In my fortune,
Heaven's justice hath confirm'd it; yet, great lady,
Since my offence grew from excess of love,
And not to be resisted, having paid, too,
With loss of liberty, the forfeiture
Of my presumption, in your clemency
It may find pardon.
_Aurel._ You shall have just cause
To say it hath. The charge of the long siege
Defray'd, and the loss my subjects have sustain'd
Made good, since so far I must deal with caution,
You have your liberty.
_Fer._ I could not hope for
Gentler conditions.
_Aurel._ My lord Gonzaga,
Since my coming to Sienna, I've heard much of
Your prisoner, brave Bertoldo.
_Gonz._ Such an one,
Madam, I had.
_Ast._ And have still, sir, I hope.
_Gonz._ Your hopes deceive you. He is ransom'd, madam.
_Ast._ By whom, I pray you, sir?
_Gonz._ You had best inquire
Of your intelligencer: I am no informer.
_Ast._ I like not this. [_Aside._
_Aurel._ He is, as 'tis reported,
A goodly gentleman, and of noble parts;
A brother of your order.
_Gonz._ He was, madam,
Till he, against his oath, wrong'd you, a princess,
Which his religion bound him from.
_Aurel._ Great minds,
For trial of their valours, oft maintain
Quarrels that are unjust, yet without malice;
And such a fair construction I make of him:
I would see that brave enemy.
_Gonz._ My duty
Commands me to seek for him.
_Aurel._ Pray you do;
And bring him to our presence. [_Exit_ GONZAGA.
_Ast._ I must blast
His entertainment. [_Aside._] May it please your excellency.
He is a man debauch'd, and, for his riots,
Cast off by the king my master; and that, I hope, is
A crime sufficient.
_Fer._ To you, his subjects,
That like as your king likes.
_Aurel._ But not to us;
We must weigh with our own scale.
_Re-enter_ GONZAGA, _with_ BERTOLDO _richly habited, and_ ADORNI.
This is he, sure.
How soon mine eye had found him! what a port
He bears! how well his bravery becomes him!
A prisoner! nay, a princely suitor, rather!
But I'm too sudden. [_Aside._
_Gonz._ Madam, 'twas his suit,
Unsent for, to present his service to you,
Ere his departure.
_Aurel._ With what majesty
He bears himself! [_Aside._
_Ast._ The devil, I think, supplies him.
Ransom'd, and thus rich too!
_Aurel._ You ill deserve
[BERTOLDO, _kneeling, kisses her hand_.
The favour of our hand----we are not well,
Give us more air. [_Descends suddenly._
_Gonz._ What sudden qualm is this?
_Aurel._--That lifted yours against me.
_Bert._ Thus, once more,
I sue for pardon.
_Aurel._ Sure his lips are poison'd,
And through these veins force passage to my heart,
Which is already seized on. [_Aside._
_Bert._ I wait, madam,
To know what your commands are; my designs
Exact me in another place.
_Aurel._ Before
You have our licence to depart! If manners,
Civility of manners, cannot teach you
To attend our leisure, I must tell you, sir,
That you are still our prisoner; nor had you
Commission to free him.
_Gonz._ How's this, madam?
_Aurel._ You were my substitute, and wanted power,
Without my warrant, to dispose of him:
I will pay back his ransom ten times over,
Rather than quit my interest.
_Bert._ This is
Against the law of arms.
_Aurel._ But not of love. [_Aside._
Why, hath your entertainment, sir, been such,
In your restraint, that, with the wings of fear,
You would fly from it?
_Bert._ I know no man, madam,
Enamour'd of his fetters, or delighting
In cold or hunger, or that would in reason
Prefer straw in a dungeon before
A down-bed in a palace.
_Aurel._ How!--Come nearer:
Was his usage such?
_Gonz._ Yes, and it had been worse,
Had I foreseen this.
_Aurel._ O such as thou, that have
No share in nature's bounties, know no pity
To such as have them. Look on him with my eyes,
And answer, then, whether this were a man
Whose cheeks of lovely fulness should be made
A prey to meagre famine? or these eyes,
Whose every glance store Cupid's emptied quiver,
To be dimm'd with tedious watching? or these lips,
These ruddy lips, of whose fresh colour cherries
And roses were but copies, should grow pale
For want of nectar? or these limbs, that bear
A burthen of more worth than is supported
By Atlas' wearied shoulders, should be cramp'd
With the weight of iron? O, I could dwell ever
On this description!
_Bert._ Is this in derision,
Or pity of me?
_Aurel._ In your charity
Believe me innocent. Now you are my prisoner,
You shall have fairer quarter: you will shame
The place where you have been, should you now leave it,
Before you are recover'd. I'll conduct you
To more convenient lodgings, and it shall be
My care to cherish you. Repine who dare;
It is our will. You'll follow me?
_Bert._ To the centre,
Such a Sybilla guiding me.
[_Exeunt_ AURELIA, BERTOLDO, _and Attendants_.
_Gonz._ Who speaks first?
_Fer._ We stand as we had seen Medusa's head.
_Pier._ I know not what to think, I am so amazed.
_Rod._ Amazed! I am thunderstruck.
_Jac._ We are enchanted,
And this is some illusion.
_Ador._ Heaven forbid!
In dark despair it shows a beam of hope:
Contain thy joy, Adorni. [_Aside._
_Ast._ Such a princess,
And of so long experienced reservedness,
Break forth, and on the sudden, into flashes
Of more than doubted love!
_Gonz._ They come again,
Smiling, as I live!--Some fury hath possess'd her.
If I speak, I may be blasted.
_Re-enter_ BERTOLDO _and_ AURELIA.
_Aurel._ Let not, sir,
The violence of my passion nourish in you
An ill opinion; or, grant my carriage
Out of the road and garb of private women,
'Tis still done with decorum.
_Bert._ Gracious madam,
Vouchsafe a little pause; for I am so rapt
Beyond myself, that, till I have collected
My scatter'd faculties, I cannot tender
My resolution.
_Aurel._ Consider of it:
I will not be long from you.
[BERTOLDO _walks by musing_.
_Gonz._ Pray you, fair lady,
If you can, in courtesy direct me to
The chaste Aurelia.
_Aurel._ Are you blind? who are we?
_Gonz._ Another kind of thing. Her love was govern'd
By her discretion, and not ruled her reason:
The reverence and majesty of Juno
Shined in her looks, and, coming to the camp,
Appear'd a second Pallas. I can see
No such divinities in you: if I,
Without offence, may speak my thoughts, you are,
As 'twere, another Helen.
_Aurel._ Good! ere long
You shall know me better.
_Gonz._ Why, if you are Aurelia,
How shall I dispose of the soldier?
_Ast._ May it please you
To hasten my despatch?
_Aurel._ Prefer your suits
Unto Bertoldo; we will give him hearing,
And you'll find him your best advocate. [_Exit._
_Ast._ This is rare!
_Gonz._ What are we come to?
_Rod._ Grown up in a moment
A favourite!
_Ferd._ He does take state already.
_Bert._ No, no; it cannot be:--yet, but Camiola,
There is no step between me and a crown.
Then my ingratitude! a sin in which
All sins are comprehended! Aid me, Virtue,
Or I am lost!
_Gonz._ May it please your excellence----
Second me, sir.
_Bert._ Then my so horrid oaths,
And hell-deep imprecations made against it!
_Ast._ The king, your brother, will thank you for the advancement
Of his affairs.
_Bert._ And yet who can hold out
Against such batteries as her power and greatness
Raise up against my weak defences?
_Gonz._ Sir,
_Re-enter_ AURELIA.
Do you dream waking? 'Slight, she's here again!
Walks she on woollen feet[163]!
_Aurel._ You dwell too long
In your deliberation, and come
With a cripple's pace to that which you should fly to.
_Bert._ It is confess'd: yet why should I, to win
From you, that hazard all to my poor nothing,
By false play send you off a loser from me?
I am already too, too much engaged
To the king my brother's anger; and who knows
But that his doubts and politic fears, should you
Make me his equal, may draw war upon
Your territories? Were that breach made up,
I should with joy embrace what now I fear
To touch but with due reverence.
_Aurel._ That hinderance
Is easily removed. I owe the king
For a royal visit, which I straight will pay him;
And having first reconciled you to his favour,
A dispensation shall meet with us.
_Bert._ I am wholly yours.
_Aurel._ On this book seal it.
_Gonz._ What, hand and lip too! then the bargain's sure.----
You have no employment for me?
_Aurel._ Yes, Gonzaga;
Provide a royal ship.
_Gonz._ A ship! St. John,
Whither are we bound now?
_Aurel._ You shall know hereafter.
My lord, your pardon for my too much trenching
Upon your patience.
_Ador._ Camiola! [_Aside to_ BERTOLDO.
_Aurel._ How do you?
_Bert._ Indisposed; but I attend you.
[_Exeunt all but_ ADORNI.
_Ador._ The heavy curse that waits on perjury
And foul ingratitude pursue thee ever!
Yet why from me this? in his breach of faith
My loyalty finds reward: what poisons him,
Proves mithridate[164] to me. I have perform'd
All she commanded, punctually; and now,
In the clear mirror of my truth, she may
Behold his falsehood. O that I had wings
To hear me to Palermo! This, once known,
Must change her love into a just disdain,
And work her to compassion of my pain. [_Exit._
FOOTNOTES:
[163] _Walks she on woollen feet._] The expression is classical
(_lanei pedes_), but does not bear the classical sense. How
Massinger understood it I cannot tell; perhaps, as equivalent to
motion without noise.--GIFFORD.
[164] _Mithridate._] An antidote. "_Mithridate_ is one of the capital
medicines of the shops, consisting of a great number of
ingredients, and has its name from its inventor, Mithridates, King
of Pontus."--QUINEY.
SCENE IV.
_Palermo. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.
_Enter_ SYLLI, CAMIOLA, _and_ CLARINDA, _at several doors._
_Syl._ Undone! undone!--poor I, that whilome was
The top and ridge of my house, am, on the sudden,
Turn'd to the pitifullest animal
O' the lineage of the Syllis!
_Cam._ What's the matter?
_Syl._ The king--break, girdle, break!
_Cam._ Why, what of him?
_Syl._ Hearing how far you doted on my person,
Is come himself a suitor, with the awl
Of his authority to bore my nose,
And take you from me--Oh, oh, oh!
_Cam._ Do not roar so:
The king!
_Syl._ The king. Yet loving Sylli is not
So sorry for his own as your misfortune:
If the king should carry you, he can but make you
A queen, and what a simple thing is that
To the being my lawful spouse! the world can never
Afford you such a husband.
_Cam._ I believe you.
But how are you sure the king is so inclined?
Did not you dream this?
_Syl._ With these eyes I saw him
Dismiss his train, and lighting from his coach,
Whispering Fulgentio in the ear.
_Cam._ If so,
I guess the business.
_Syl._ Yonder they are; I dare not
_Enter_ ROBERTO _and_ FULGENTIO.
Be seen, I am so desperate: if you forsake me,
Send me word, that I may provide a willow garland,
To wear when I drown myself. O Sylli, Sylli!
[_Exit crying._
_Ful._ It will be worth your pains, sir, to observe
The constancy and bravery of her spirit.
Though great men tremble at your frowns, I dare
Hazard my head your majesty, set off
With terror, cannot fright her.
_Rob._ May she answer
My expectation! [_Aside._
_Ful._ There she is.
_Cam._ My knees thus
Bent to the earth, while my vows are sent upward
For the safety of my sovereign, pay the duty
Due for so great an honour, in this favour
Done to your humblest handmaid.
_Rob._ You mistake me;
I come not, lady, that you may report
The king, to do you honour, made your house
(He being there) his court; but to correct
Your stubborn disobedience. A pardon
For that, could you obtain it, were well purchased
With this humility.
_Cam._ A pardon, sir!
Till I am conscious of an offence,
I will not wrong my innocence to beg one.
What is my crime, sir?
_Rob._ Look on him I favour,
By you scorn'd and neglected.
_Cam._ Is that all, sir?
_Rob._ No, minion; though that were too much.
How can you
Answer the setting on your desperate bravo
To murder him?
_Cam._ With your leave, I must not kneel, sir,
While I reply to this: but thus rise up
In my defence, and tell you, as a man,
(Since, when you are unjust, the deity,
Which you may challenge as a king, parts from you,)
'Twas never read in holy writ, or moral,
That subjects on their loyalty were obliged
To love their sovereign's vices: your grace, sir,
To such an undeserver is no virtue.
_Ful._ What think you now, sir?
_Cam._ Say you should love wine,
You being the king, and, 'cause I am your subject,
Must I be ever drunk? Tyrants, not kings,
By violence, from humble vassals force
The liberty of their souls. I could not love him;
And to compel affection, as I take it,
Is not found in your prerogative.
_Rob._ Excellent virgin!
How I admire her confidence! [_Aside._
_Cam._ He complains
Of wrong done him: but be no more a king,
Unless you do me right. Burn your decrees,
And of your laws and statutes make a fire
To thaw the frozen numbness of delinquents,
If he escape unpunish'd. Do your edicts
Call it death in any man that breaks into
Another's house to rob him, though of trifles;
And shall Fulgentio, your Fulgentio, live,
Who hath committed more than sacrilege,
In the pollution of my clear fame
By his malicious slanders?
_Rob._ Have you done this?
Answer truly, on your life.
_Ful._ In the heat of blood,
Some such thing I reported.
_Rob._ Out of my sight!
For I vow, if by true penitence thou win not
This injured lady to sue out thy pardon,
Thy grave is digg'd already.
_Ful._ By my own folly
I have made a fair hand of 't. [_Aside, and Exit._
_Rob._ You shall know, lady,
While I wear a crown, Justice shall use her sword
To cut offenders off, though nearest to us.
_Cam._ Ay, now you show whose deputy you are:
If now I bathe your feet with tears, it cannot
Be censured superstition.
_Rob._ You must rise;
Rise in our favour and protection ever.
[_Kisses her._
_Cam._ Happy are subjects, when the prince is still
Guided by justice, not his passionate will.
[_Exeunt._
ACT V. SCENE I.
_The same. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.
_Enter_ CAMIOLA _and_ SYLLI.
_Cam._ You see how tender I am of the quiet
And peace of your affection, and what great ones
I put off in your favour.
_Syl._ You do wisely,
Exceeding wisely; and, when I have said,
I thank you for 't, be happy.
_Cam._ And good reason,
In having such a blessing.
_Syl._ When you have it;
But the bait is not yet ready.
_Enter_ CLARINDA _hastily_.
_Cam._ What news with thee, now?
_Clar._ Off with that gown, 'tis mine; mine by your promise:
Signior Adorni is return'd! now upon entrance!
Off with it, off with it, madam!
_Cam._ Be not so hasty:
When I go to bed, 'tis thine.
_Syl._ You have my grant too;
But, do you hear, lady, though I give way to this,
You must hereafter ask my leave, before
You part with things of moment.
_Cam._ Very good;
When I'm yours I'll be govern'd.
_Syl._ Sweet obedience!
_Enter_ ADORNI.
_Cam._ You are well return'd.
_Ador._ I wish that the success
Of my service had deserved it.
_Cam._ Lives Bertoldo?
_Ador._ Yes, and return'd with safety.
_Cam._ 'Tis not then
In the power of fate to add to, or take from
My perfect happiness; and yet--he should
Have made me his first visit.
_Ador._ So I think too;
But he----
_Syl._ Durst not appear, I being present;
That's his excuse, I warrant you.
_Cam._ Speak, where is he?
With whom? who hath deserved more from him? or
Can be of equal merit? I in this
Do not except the king.
_Ador._ He's at the palace,
With the duchess of Sienna. One coach brought them hither,
Without a third: he's very gracious with her;
You may conceive the rest.
_Cam._ My jealous fears
Make me to apprehend.
_Ador._ Pray you, dismiss
Signior Wisdom, and I'll make relation to you
Of the particulars.
_Cam._ Servant, I would have you
To haste unto the court.
_Syl._ I will outrun
A footman for your pleasure.
_Cam._ There observe
The duchess' train, and entertainment.
_Syl._ Fear not;
I will discover all that is of weight,
To the liveries of her pages and her footmen.
This is fit employment for me. [_Exit._
_Cam._ Gracious with
The duchess! sure you said so?
_Ador._ I will use
All possible brevity to inform you, madam,
Of what was trusted to me, and discharged
With faith and loyal duty.
_Cam._ I believe it;
You ransomed him, and supplied his wants--imagine
That is already spoken; and what vows
Of service he made to me, is apparent;
His joy of me, and wonder too, perspicuous;
Does not your story end so?
_Ador._ Would the end
Had answered the beginning!--In a word,
Ingratitude and perjury at the height
Cannot express him.
_Cam._ Take heed.
_Ador._ Truth is arm'd,
And can defend itself. It must out, madam:
I saw (the presence full) the amorous duchess
Kiss and embrace him; on his part accepted
With equal ardour; and their willing hands
No sooner join'd, but a remove was publish'd,
And put in execution.
_Cam._ The proofs are
Too pregnant. O Bertoldo!
_Ador._ He's not worth
Your sorrow, madam.
_Cam._ Tell me, when you saw this,
Did not you grieve, as I do now to hear it?
_Ador._ His precipice from goodness raising mine,
And serving as a foil to set my faith off,
I had little reason.
_Cam._ In this you confess
The malice of your disposition. As
You were a man, you stood bound to lament it;
And not, in flattery of your false hopes,
To glory in it. When good men pursue
The path mark'd out by virtue, the blest saints
With joy look on it, and seraphic angels
Clap their celestial wings in heavenly plaudits,
To see a scene of grace so well presented,
The fiends, and men made up of envy, mourning.
Whereas now, on the contrary, as far
As their divinity can partake of passion,
With me they weep, beholding a fair temple,
Built in Bertoldo's loyalty, turn'd to ashes
By the flames of his inconstancy, the damn'd
Rejoicing in the object.--'Tis not well
In you, Adorni.
_Ador._ What a temper dwells
In this rare virgin! [_Aside._] Can you pity him,
That hath shown none to you?
_Cam._ I must not be
Cruel by his example. You, perhaps,
Expect now I should seek recovery
Of what I have lost, by tears, and with bent knees
Beg his compassion. No; my towering virtue,
From the assurance of my merit, scorns
To stoop so low. I'll take a nobler course,
And, confident in the justice of my cause,
The king his brother, and new mistress, judges,
Ravish him from her arms. You have the contract,
In which he swore to marry me?
_Ador._ 'Tis here, madam.
_Cam._ He shall be, then, against his will, my husband;
And when I have him, I'll so use him!--Doubt not,
But that, your honesty being unquestion'd,
This writing, with your testimony, clears all.
_Ador._ And buries me in the dark mists of error.
_Cam._ I'll presently to court; pray you, give order
For my caroch[165]. [_Exit_ ADORNI.] My good angel help me,
In these my extremities!
_Re-enter_ SYLLI.
_Syl._ If you e'er will see brave sight,
Lose it not now. Bertoldo and the duchess
Are presently to be married: there's such pomp
And preparation!
_Cam._ If I marry, 'tis
This day, or never.
_Syl._ Why, with all my heart;
Though I break this, I'll keep the next oath I make,
And then it is quit.
_Cam._ Follow me to my cabinet;
You know my confessor, father Paulo?
_Syl._ Yes: shall he
Do the feat for us?
_Cam._ I will give in writing
Directions to him, and attire myself
Like a virgin bride; and something I will do,
That shall deserve men's praise and wonder too.
[_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTE:
[165] _Caroch_,] i. e. _a large coach_. Coaches are said to have been
first brought into England in 1564, by William Booner, a Dutchman,
who became coachman to Queen Elizabeth.--NARES.
SCENE II.
_The same. A State-room in the Palace._
_Loud music. Enter_ ROBERTO, BERTOLDO, AURELIA, FERDINAND, ASTUTIO,
GONZAGA, RODERIGO, JACOMO, PIERIO, _a Bishop, and Attendants_.
_Rob._ Had our division been greater, madam,
Your clemency, the wrong being done to you,
In pardon of it, like the rod of concord,
Must make a perfect union.--Once more,
With a brotherly affection, we receive you
Into our favour: let it be your study
Hereafter to deserve this blessing, far
Beyond your merit.
_Bert._ As the princess' grace
To me is without limit, my endeavours,
With all obsequiousness to serve her pleasures,
Shall know no bounds: nor will I, being made
Her husband, e'er forget the duty that
I owe her as a servant.
_Aurel._ I expect not
But fair equality, since I well know,
If that superiority be due,
'Tis not to me. When you are made my consort,
All the prerogatives of my high birth cancell'd,
I'll practise the obedience of a wife,
And freely pay it.
_Gonz._ This done, as it is promised, may well stand for
A precedent to great women.
_Rob._ One word more
Touching the articles.
_Enter_ FULGENTIO, CAMIOLA, SYLLI, _and_ ADORNI.
_Ful._ In you alone
Lie all my hopes; you can or kill or save me;
But pity in you will become you better
(Though I confess injustice 'tis denied me)
Than too much rigour.
_Cam._ I will make your peace
As far as it lies in me; but must first
Labour to right myself.
_Aurel._ Or add or alter
What you think fit; in him I have my all:
Heaven make me thankful for him!
_Rob._ On to the temple.
_Cam._ Stay, royal sir; and, as you are a king,
Erect one[166] here, in doing justice to
An injured maid.
_Aurel._ How's this?
_Bert._ O, I am blasted!
_Rob._ I have given some proof, sweet lady, of my promptness
To do you right; you need not, therefore, doubt me;
And rest assured, that, this great work despatch'd,
You shall have audience, and satisfaction
To all you can demand.
_Cam._ To do me justice
Exacts your present care, and can admit
Of no delay. If, ere my cause be heard,
In favour of your brother you go on, sir,
Your sceptre cannot right me. He's the man,
The guilty man, whom I accuse; and you
Stand bound in duty, as you are supreme,
To be impartial. Since you are a judge,
As a delinquent look on him, and not
As on a brother: Justice painted blind,
Infers her ministers are obliged to hear
The cause, and truth, the judge, determine of it;
And not sway'd or by favour or affection,
By a false gloss, or wrested comment, alter
The true intent and letter of the law.
_Rob._ Nor will I, madam.
_Aurel._ You seem troubled, sir.
_Gonz._ His colour changes too.
_Cam._ The alteration
Grows from his guilt. The goodness of my cause
Begets such confidence in me, that I bring
No hired tongue to plead for me, that with gay
Rhetorical flourishes may palliate
That which, stripp'd naked, will appear deform'd.
I stand here mine own advocate; and my truth,
Deliver'd in the plainest language, will
Make good itself; nor will I, if the king
Give suffrage to it, but admit of you,
My greatest enemy, and this stranger prince,
To sit assistants with him.
_Aurel._ I ne'er wrong'd you.
_Cam._ In your knowledge of the injury, I believe it;
Nor will you, in your justice, when you are
Acquainted with my interest in this man,
Which I lay claim to.
_Rob._ Let us take our seats.
What is your title to him?
_Cam._ By this contract,
Seal'd solemnly before a reverend man,
[_Presents a paper to the king._
I challenge him for my husband.
_Syl._ Ha! was I
Sent for the friar for this?
_Rob._ This writing is
Authentical.
_Aurel._ But, done in heat of blood,
Charm'd by her flatteries, as, no doubt, he was,
To be dispensed with.
_Fer._ Add this, if you please,
The distance and disparity between
Their births and fortunes.
_Cam._ What can Innocence hope for,
When such as sit her judges are corrupted!
Disparity of birth or fortune, urge you?
Or syren charms? or, at his best, in me
Wants to deserve him? Call some few days back,
And, as he was, consider him, and you
Must grant him my inferior. Imagine
You saw him now in fetters, with his honour,
His liberty lost; with her black wings Despair
Circling his miseries, and this Gonzaga
Trampling on his afflictions; the great sum
Proposed for his redemption; the king
Forbidding payment of it; his near kinsmen,
With his protesting followers and friends,
Falling off from him; by the whole world forsaken;
Dead to all hope, and buried in the grave
Of his calamities; and then weigh duly
What she deserved, whose merits now are doubted,
That, as his better angel, in her bounties
Appear'd unto him, his great ransom paid,
His wants, and with a prodigal hand, supplied;
Whether, then, being my manumised slave,
He owed not himself to me?
_Aurel._ Is this true?
_Rob._ In his silence 'tis acknowledged.
_Gonz._ If you want
A witness to this purpose, I'll depose it.
_Cam._ If I have dwelt too long on my deservings
To this unthankful man, pray you pardon me;
The cause required it. And though now I add
A little, in my painting to the life
His barbarous ingratitude, to deter
Others from imitation, let it meet with
A fair interpretation. This serpent,
Frozen to numbness, was no sooner warm'd
In the bosom of my pity and compassion,
But, in return, he ruin'd his preserver,
The prints the irons had made in his flesh
Still ulcerous; but all that I had done,
My benefits, in sand or water written,
As they had never been, no more remember'd!
And on what ground, but his ambitious hopes
To gain this duchess' favour?
_Aurel._ Yes; the object,
Look on it better, lady, may excuse
The change of his affection.
_Cam._ The object!
In what? forgive me, modesty, if I say
You look upon your form in the false glass
Of flattery and self-love, and that deceives you.
That you were a duchess, as I take it, was not
Character'd on your face; and, that not seen,
For other feature, make all these, that are
Experienced in women, judges of them,
And, if they are not parasites, they must grant,
For beauty without art, though you storm at it,
I may take the right-hand file.
_Gonz._ Well said, i' faith!
I see fair women on no terms will yield
Priority in beauty.
_Cam._ Down, proud heart!
Why do I rise up in defence of that,
Which, in my cherishing of it, hath undone me!
No, madam, I recant,--you are all beauty,
Goodness, and virtue; and poor I not worthy
As a foil to set you off: enjoy your conquest;
But do not tyrannize. Yet, as I am,
In my lowness, from your height you may look on me,
And, in your suffrage to me, make him know
That, though to all men else I did appear
The shame and scorn of women, he stands bound
To hold me as the masterpiece.
_Rob._ By my life,
You have shown yourself of such an abject temper,
So poor and low-condition'd, as I grieve for
Your nearness to me.
_Fer._ I am changed in my
Opinion of you, lady; and profess
The virtues of your mind an ample fortune
For an absolute monarch.
_Gonz._ Since you are resolved
To damn yourself, in your forsaking of
Your noble order for a woman, do it
For this. You may search through the world, and meet not
With such another phoenix.
_Aurel._ On the sudden
I feel all fires of love quench'd in the water
Of my compassion.--Make your peace; you have
My free consent; for here I do disclaim
All interest in you: and, to further your
Desires, fair maid, composed of worth and honour,
The dispensation procured by me,
Freeing Bertoldo from his vow, makes way
To your embraces.
_Bert._ Oh, how have I stray'd,
And wilfully, out of the noble track
Mark'd me by virtue! till now, I was never
Truly a prisoner. To excuse my late
Captivity, I might allege the malice
Of Fortune; you, that conquer'd me, confessing
Courage in my defence was no way wanting.
But now I have surrender'd up my strengths
Into the power of Vice, and on my forehead
Branded, with mine own hand, in capital letters,
DISLOYAL, and INGRATEFUL. Though barr'd from
Human society, and hiss'd into
Some desert ne'er yet haunted with the curses
Of men and women, sitting as a judge
Upon my guilty self, I must confess
It justly falls upon me; and one tear,
Shed in compassion of my sufferings, more
Than I can hope for.
_Cam._ This compunction
For the wrong that you have done me, though you should
Fix here, and your true sorrow move no further,
Will, in respect I loved once, make these eyes
Two springs of sorrow for you.
_Bert._ In your pity
My cruelty shows more monstrous: yet I am not,
Though most ingrateful, grown to such a height
Of impudence, as, in my wishes only,
To ask your pardon. If, as now I fall
Prostrate before your feet, you will vouchsafe
To act your own revenge, treading upon me
As a viper eating through the bowels of
Your benefits, to whom, with liberty,
I owe my being, 'twill take from the burden
That now is insupportable.
_Cam._ Pray you, rise;
As I wish peace and quiet to my soul,
I do forgive you heartily: yet, excuse me,
Though I deny myself a blessing that,
By the favour of the duchess, seconded
With your submission, is offer'd to me;
Let not the reason I allege for 't grieve you,
You have been false once.--I have done: and if,
When I am married, as this day I will be,
As a perfect sign of your atonement with me,
You wish me joy, I will receive it for
Full satisfaction of all obligations
In which you stand bound to me.
_Bert._ I will do it,
And, what's more, in despite of sorrow, live
To see myself undone, beyond all hope
To be made up again.
_Syl._ My blood begins
To come to my heart again.
_Cam._ Pray you, signior Sylli,
Call in the holy friar: he's prepared
For finishing the work.
_Syl._ I knew I was
The man: heaven make me thankful! [_Exit._
_Rob._ Who is this?
_Ast._ His father was the banker of Palermo,
And this the heir of his great wealth: his wisdom
Was not hereditary.
_Aurel._ For my part,
I cannot guess the issue.
_Re-enter_ SYLLI _with Father_ PAULO.
_Syl._ Do your duty;
And with all speed you can, you may despatch us.
_Paul._ Thus, as a principal ornament to the church,
I seize her.
_All._ How!
_Rob._ So young, and so religious!
_Paul._ She has forsook the world.
_Syl._ I shall run mad.
_Rob._ Hence with the fool! [SYLLI _is thrust off_.] Proceed, sir.
Paul. _Look on this_ MAID OF HONOUR, _now
Truly honour'd in her vow
She pays to heaven. This fair hair
(Favours for great kings to wear)
Must now be shorn; her rich array
Changed into a homely gray:
Instead of dainties, from the spring,
For wine, cold water we will bring;
And with fasting mortify
The feasts of sensuality.
Her jewels, beads; and she must look
Not in a glass, but holy book,
To teach her the ne'er-erring way
To immortality. O may
She, as she purposes to be
A child new-born to piety,
Perséver[167] in it, and good men,
With saints and angels, say, Amen_!
_Cam._ This is the marriage! this the port to which
My vows must steer me! Fill my spreading sails
With the pure wind of your devotions for me,
That I may touch the secure haven, where
Eternal happiness keeps her residence,
Temptations to frailty never entering!
I am dead to the world, and thus dispose
Of what I leave behind me; and, dividing
My state into three parts, I thus bequeath it:
The first to the fair nunnery, to which
I dedicate the last and better part
Of my frail life; a second portion
To pious uses; and the third to thee,
Adorni, for thy true and faithful service.
And, ere I take my last farewell, with hope
To find a grant, my suit to you is, that
You would, for my sake, pardon this young man,
And to his merits love him, and no further.
_Rob._ I thus confirm it.
[_Gives his hand to_ FULGENTIO.
_Cam._ And, as e'er you hope, [_To_ BERTOLDO.
Like me, to be made happy, I conjure you
To reassume your order; and in fighting
Bravely against the enemies of our faith,
Redeem your mortgaged honour.
_Gonz._ I restore this: [_Gives him the white cross._
Once more, brothers in arms.
_Bert._ I'll live and die so.
_Cam._ To you my pious wishes! And, to end
All differences, great sir, I beseech you
To be an arbitrator, and compound
The quarrel long continuing between
The duke and duchess.
_Rob._ I will take it into
My special care.
_Cam._ I am then at rest. Now, father,
Conduct me where you please.
[_Exeunt_ PAULO _and_ CAMIOLA.
_Rob._ She well deserves
Her name, _the Maid of Honour_! May she stand,
To all posterity, a fair example
For noble maids to imitate! Since to live
In wealth and pleasure's common, but to part with
Such poison'd baits is rare; there being nothing
Upon this stage of life to be commended,
Though well begun, till it be fully ended.
[_Flourish. Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[166] _Erect one here_,] i. e. _a temple_.--M. MASON.
[167] _Perséver._] So this word was anciently written and
pronounced.--GIFFORD.
END OF VOL. I.
Transcriber's Notes:
Words surrounded by _ are italicized.
Small capitals are presented as all capitals in this e-text.
Obvious printer's errors have been repaired, other inconsistent
spellings have been kept, including inconsistent use of hyphen (e.g.
"master-piece" and "masterpiece") or accent (e.g. "blasphémous" and
"blasphemous").
End of Project Gutenberg's The Plays of Philip Massinger, by Philip Massinger