Is there no further newes of those are fledd,--
I meane those fellow Instruments?
1 _Cap_. None as yet,--
At least divulgd abroad. But certenly
The wise States are not idle, neither at this time
Do's it concerne their safeties. We shall heare shortly
More of theis monsters.
2 _Cap_. Let's to dynner, Sir;
There we shall heare more newes.
1 _Cap_. Ile beare ye companie.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 4.
_Enter Barnavelt & Provost_.
_Bar_. And how doth he take his imprisonment, _Mr. Provost_?
_Pro_. A litle discontent, and't please your Lordship,
And sad as men confind.
_Bar_. He does not talke much?
_Pro_. Litle or nothing, Sir.
_Bar_. Nor wrighte?
_Pro_. Not any thing,
Yet I have charge to give him those free uses.
_Bar_. Doe you keep him close?
_Pro_. Not so close, and't like your Lordship,
But you may see and speake with him.
_Bar_. I thanck ye.
_Pro_. Pray ye give me leave; Ile send him to your Honour.
[_Exit_.
_Bar_. Now, _Barnavelt_, thou treadst the subtlest path,
The hardest and the thorniest, most concernes thee,
That ere thy carefull course of life run through:
The Master peece is now a foot, which if it speed
And take but that sure hold I ayme it at,
I make no doubt but once more, like a Comet,
To shine out faire and blaze prodigiously
Even to the ruyn of those men that hate me.
_Enter Leidenberch_.
--I am sorry for your fortune.
_Leid_. 'Tis a sad one
And full of burthen, but I must learne to beare it.
How stands your State?
_Bar_. Upon a ball of yce
That I can neither fix, nor fall with safetie.
_Leid_. The heavie hand of heaven is now upon us
And we exposd, like bruizd and totterd vessells,
To merciles and cruell Seas to sinck us.
_Bar_. Our Indiscreations are our evill fortunes,
And nothing sincks us but [our] want of providence.
O you delt coldly, Sir, and too too poorely,
Not like a man fitt to stem tides of dangers,
When you gave way to the Prince to enter _Utrecht_.
There was a blow, a full blow at our fortunes;
And that great indiscreation, that mayne blindnes,
In not providing such a constant Captaine,
One of our owne, to commaund the watch, but suffer
The haughtie _English_ to be masters of it,--
This was not well nor fitting such a wisdom,
Not provident.
_Leid_. I must confes my errour;
The beastly coldnes of the drowsy Burgers
Put me past all my aymes.
_Bar_. O, they are sweet Jewells!
He that would put his confidence in Turnops[173]
And pickled Spratts--Come, yet resume your Courage,
Pluck up that leaden hart and looke upon mee;
_Modesbargen's_ fledd, and what we lockt in him
Too far of from their subtle keys to open,
Yf we stand constant now to one another
And in our soules be true.
_Leid_. That comes too late, Sir,
Too late to be redeemd: as I am unfortunate
In all that's gone before, in this--
_Bar_. What?
_Leid_. O,
In this, this last and greatest--
_Bar_. Speake.
_Leid_. Most miserable.
I have confessd. Now let your eies shoot through me
And if there be a killing anger sinck me.
_Bar_. Confessd!
_Leid_. 'Tis done: this traitor tongue has don it,
This coward tongue.
_Bar_. Confessd!
_Leid_. He lookes me blind now.
_Bar_. How I could cursee thee, foole, despise thee, spurne thee,
But thou art a thing not worthie of mine anger.
A frend! a dog: a whore had byn more secreat,
A common whore a closer Cabinet.
Confest! upon what safety, thou trembling aspyn,
Upon what hope? Is there ought left to buoy us
But our owne confidence? What frends now follow us,
That have the powre to strike of theis misfortunes,
But our owne constant harts? Where were my eies,
My understanding, when I tooke unto me
A fellow of thy falce hart for a frend?
Thy melting mind! foold with a few faire words
Suffer those secreats that concerne thy life,
In the Revealer not to be forgiven too,
To be pluckt from thy childes hart with a promise,
A nod, a smile! thyself and all thy fortunes
Through thy base feare made subject to example!
Nor will the shott stay there, but with full violence
Run through the rancke of frends, disperse and totter
The best and fairest hopes thy fame was built on.
_Leid_. What have I done, how am I foold and cozend!
What shall redeeme me from this Ignoraunce!
_Bar_. Not any thing thou aymst at, thou art lost:
A most unpittied way thou falst.
_Leid_. Not one hope
To bring me of? nothing reservd to cleere me
From this cold Ignoraunce?
_Bar_. But one way left,
But that thy base feare dares not let thee look on;
And that way will I take, though it seeme steepe
And every step stuck with affrights and horrours,
Yet on the end hangs smyling peace and honour,
And I will on.
_Leid_. Propound and take[174] me with ye.
_Bar_. Dye uncompelld, and mock their preparations,
Their envyes and their Justice.
_Leid_. Dye?
_Bar_. Dye willingly,
Dye sodainely and bravely: So will I:
Then let 'em sift our Actions from our ashes.
I looke to-morrow to be drawne before 'em;
And doe you thinck, I, that have satt a Judge
And drawne the thred of life to what length I pleasd,
Will now appeare a Prisoner in the same place?
Tarry for such an ebb? No, _Leidenberch_:
The narrowest dore of death I would work through first
Ere I turne Slave to stick their gawdy triumphes.
_Leid_. Dye, did you say? dye wilfully?
_Bar_. Dye any way,
Dye in a dreame: he that first gave us honours
Allowes us also safe waies to preserve 'em,
To scape the hands of infamy and tirrany.
We may be our owne Justice: he that loses
His Creadit (deere as life) through doubt or faintness
Is guilty of a doble death, his name dies;
He is onely pious that preserves his heire
His honour when he's dead.
_Leid_. 'Tis no great paine.
_Bar_. 'Tis nothing:
Imagination onely makes it monstrous.
When we are sick we endure a hundred fitts,
This is but one; a hundred waies of torture,
And cry and howle, weary of all about us,
Our frends, allyes, our children teadious to us,
Even our best health is but still sufferaunce.
One blow, one short peece of an howre dos this,
And this cures all; maintaines no more phisitians,
Restores our memories, and there's the great cure,
Where, if we stay the fatall Sword of Justice,
It moawes the man downe first, and next his fashion,
His living name, his creadit.
_Leid_. Give me your hand, Sir;
You have put me in a path I will tread strongly;
Redeeme what I have lost, and that so nobely
The world shall yet confes at least I lovd ye.
How much I smile at now theis peoples mallice!
Dispise their subtle ends, laugh at their Justice!
And what a mightie Prince a constant man is!
How he can set his mind aloft, and looke at
The bussings and the busines of the spightfull,
And crosse when ere he please all their close weavings.
Farwell, my last farwell.
_Bar_. A long farwell, Sir.
_Leid_. Our bodies are the earthes, that's their dyvorsse:
But our immortall names shall twyn togeather.
_Bar_. Thus tread we backward to our graves;--but faint not.
_Leid_. Fooles onely fly their peace: thus I pursue it.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 5.
_Enter Grotius & Hogerbeets_.
_Gro_. They have arrested him, _Hogerbeets_?
_Hog_. Yes;
That you all know, _Grotius_, they did at _Utrich_,
But since they have with more severitie
And scorne of us proceeded. Monsieur _Barnavelt_
Walkes with a thousand eies and guards upon him,
And has at best a painted libertie;
Th'Appollogie he wroat so poorely raild at,
(For answeard at no part a man can call it)
And all his life and Actions so detracted,
That he, as I am certenly informed,
Lookes every howre for worsse.
_Gro_. Come, come, they dare not,
Or if they should I will not suffer it;
I that have without dread ever maintaind
The freedom I was borne to, against all
That ever have provoakd me, will not feare
What this old Grave or the new Prince of _Orange_
Dare undertake beyond this, but will rise up
And if he lay his hands on _Barnavelt_,
His Court, our Guift, and where the generall States
Our equalls sit ile fry[175] about their eares
And quench it in their blood. What now I speake
Againe ile speake alowd; let who will tell it,
I never will fly from it.
_Hog_. What you purpose
I will not fly from.
_Gro_. Back you then to _Leyden_,
Ile keep at _Roterdam_: there if he fetch me
Ile nere repent whatever can fall on me.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 6.
_Enter Leidenberch & Boy_.
_Boy_. Shall I help you to bed, Sir,
[_Taper, pen & inke: Table_.
_Leid_. No, my Boy, not yet.
_Boy_. 'Tis late and I grow sleepie.
_Leid_. Goe to bed then,
For I must wryte, my Childe.
_Boy_. I had rather watch, Sir,
If you sitt up, for I know you will wake me.
_Leid_. Indeed I will not; goe, I have much to doe;
Prethee to bed; I will not waken thee.
_Boy_. Pray, Sir, leave wryting till to morrow.
_Leid_. Why, Boy?
_Boy_. You slept but ill last night, and talkd in your sleep, too;
Tumbled and tooke no rest.
_Leid_. I ever doe soe.
Good Boy, to bed; my busines is of waight
And must not be deferrd: good night, sweet Boy.
_Boy_. My father was not wont to be so kind
To hug me and to kisse me soe.
_Leid_. Why do'st thou weep?
_Boy_. I cannot tell, but sure a tendernes,
Whether it be with your kind words unto me
Or what it is, has crept about my hart, Sir,
And such a sodaine heavynes withall, too.
_Leid_.--Thou bringst fitt mourners for my funerall.
_Boy_. But why do you weep, father?
_Leid_. O, my Boy,
Thy teares are dew-drops, sweet as those on roses,
But mine the faint and yron sweatt of sorrow.
Prethee, sweet Child, to bed; good rest dwell with thee,
And heaven returne a blessing: that's my good Boy. [_Exit boy_.
--How nature rises now and turnes me woman
When most I should be man! Sweet hart, farewell,
Farewell for ever. When we get us children
We then doe give our freedoms up to fortune
And loose that native courage we are borne to.
To dye were nothing,--simply to leave the light;
No more then going to our beds and sleeping;
But to leave all these dearnesses behind us,
These figures of our selves that we call blessings,
Is that which trobles. Can man beget a thing
That shalbe deerer then himself unto him?
--Tush, _Leidenberch_: thinck what thou art to doe;
Not to play _Niobe_ weeping ore her Children,
Unles that _Barnavelt_ appeere againe
And chide thy dull-cold nature.--He is fast: [_Son abed_.
Sleepe on, sweet Child, the whilst thy wreatched father
Prepares him to the yron sleepe of death.
Or is death fabled out but terrable
To fright us from it? or rather is there not
Some hid _Hesperides_, some blessed fruites
Moated about with death. Thou soule of _Cato_,
And you brave _Romaine_ speritts, famous more
For your true resolutions on yourselves
Then Conquest of the world, behold, and see me
An old man and a gowne man, with as much hast
And gladnes entertaine this steele that meetes me
As ever longing lover did his mistris.
--So, so; yet further; soe.
_Boy within_. Oh!
_Leid_. Sure the Boy wakes
And I shalbe prevented.
_Boy_. Now heaven blesse me.
O me, O me!
_Leid_. He dreames and starts with frightings.
I bleed apace but cannot fall: tis here;
This will make wider roome. Sleep, gentle Child,
And do not looke upon thy bloody father,
Nor more remember him then fitts thy fortune.
--Now shoot your spightes, now clap on all your councells;
Here is a constant frend will not betray me.
I, now I faint; mine eies begin to hunt
For that they have lost for ever, this worldes beutie--
O oh, ô oh! my long sleepe now has ceizd me.
_Enter Boy_.
_Boy_. I heard him groane and cry; I heard him fall sure.
O, there he lyes in his owne blood! ô father,
O my deare father, dead and bequeathd no blessing!
Why did I goe to bed, why was I heavy?
O, I will never sleep againe. The house there!
You that are verteous rise! you that have fathers!
Ho, Master _Provost_! ô my deerest father.
Some Surgeons, Surgeons!
_Enter Provost & Servts_.
_Prov_. 'Twas the Boyes voice, certaine.
_Ser_. What bloody sight is this? 'has killd himself:
Dead, stone-cold dead; he needs no art of Surgeons.
_Prov_. Take of the Boy.
_Boy_. O let me dwell here ever.
_Prov_. This was a fatall stroak, to me a heavy,
For my remissnes wilbe loaden with it.
Bring in the Boy; ile to the State instantly;
Examine all the wounds and keep the knives;
The Boy fast too,--may be he knowes some circumstance.
_Boy_. O that I never knew againe.
_Prov_. In with it.
[_Exeunt_.
Actus Quartus.
SCAENA PRIMA.
_Enter Captaine[176] and Soldiers_.
_Cap_. Are the Horses left where I appointed 'em,
And all the Soldiers ready?
_Sold_. They are all, Captaine.
_Cap_. 'Tis well: _Modesbargen_ is abroad, for certaine,
Hunting this morning.
_Sold_. Tis most likely, Sir;
For round about the Castle, since the dawning,
We have heard the merry noyse of hornes.
_Cap_. Dispeirce then,
Except some three or foure to watch the Castle
Least he break in againe. What Company
Have ye discoverd that attends him?
_Sold_. Few, Sir:
I do not thinck he has five within the fort now
Able to make resistaunce.
_Cap_. Let 'em be twenty
We are strong enough to fright 'em; and by all meanes
Let those that stay seek by some trick or other
To make the Bridge good, that they draw it not
If he returne upon us.
_Sold_. With all care, Sir.
[_Exeunt.--Hornes_.
_Enter Modes-bargen & Huntsmen_[177].
_Mod_. The doggs have hunted well this dewy morning,
And made a merry cry.
1 _Hunt_. The Hare was rotten[178];
You should have heard els such a rore, and seene 'em
Make all hir dobles out with such neat hunting
And run at such a merry rate togeather,
They should have dapled ore your bay with fome, Sir.
_Mod_. 'Tis very well, and so well I affect it
That I could wish I had nere hunted after
Any delight but this, nor sought more honour.
This is securely safe, drawes on no danger,
Nor is this Chace crost with malignant envy.
How sweatly do I live and laugh upon
The perrills I have past, the plotts and traynes!
And now (methincks) I dare securely looke on
The steepe and desprat follyes my indiscretion
Like a blind careles foole had allmost cast me on.
Here I stand saffe 'gainst all their strengths and Stratagems:
I was a boy, a foole to follow _Barnavelt_,
To step into his attempts, to wedd my freedom
To his most dangerous faction, a meere Coxcomb;
But I have scapd their clawes.--Have ye found more game?
_Enter 2 Huntesmen_[179].
2 _Hunt_. Beating about to find a new Hare, we discoverd--
_Mod_. Discoverd what?
2 _Hunt_. Horsemen, and't please ye, Sir,
Scowt round about us, and which way still the doggs went
They made up within view.
_Mod_. Look't they like Soldiers?
2 _Hunt_. For certaine they are Soldiers; for if theis are eyes
I saw their pistolls.
_Mod_. Many?
2 _Hunt_. Some half a score, Sir.
_Mod_. I am betraide: away and raise the Boores up,
Bid 'em deale manfully.
1 _Hunt_. Take a close way home
And clap your spurres on roundly.
_Mod_. No place safe for me!
This Prince has long armes, and his kindled anger
A thousand eyes--Make hast and raise the Cuntry.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter Captn & Soldiers_.
_Cap_. This was a narrow scape; he was ith' feild, sure.
_Sold_. Yes, that was certaine he that ridd of by us,
When we stood close ith' brakes.
_Cap_. A devill take it!
How are we cozend! pox of our goodly providence!
If he get home or if the Cuntry know it!
_Sold_. Make haste, he is yet unmand: we may come time enough
To enter with him. Besides there's this advantage:
They that are left behind, instead of helping
A Boores Cart ore the Bridge, loden with hay,
Have crackt the ax-tree with a trick, and there it stands
And choakes the Bridge from drawing.
_Cap_. There's some hope yet.
Away and clap on spurs: he shall scape hardly
If none of us salute him. Mounte, mounte.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter Modesbargen & Huntesmen_.
_Mod_. Hell take this hay! 'tis set on purpose here:
Fire it and draw the Bridge: clap faggotts on't
And fire the Cart and all. No Boores come in yet?
Where be your Musketts, Slaves?
_Hunt_. We have no powder, Sir.
_Mod_. You have sold me, Rogues, betrayd me: fire the Cart, I say,
Or heave it into th' Moat.
_Hunt_. We have not men enough.
Will ye goe in? the Cuntry will rise presently,
And then you shall see, Sir, how wee'll buckle with 'em.
_Mod_. I see I am undon: the[180] hay choakes all,
I cannot get beside it.
_Enter Captaine & Soldiers_.
_Cap_. Stir not a foote,
For he that do's has mett his preist.--Goe, ceize his body,
But hurt him not. You must along with us, Sir:
We have an easie nag will swym away with ye,--
You ghesse the cause, I am sure. When you are ith' saddle once,
Let your Boores loose; we'll show 'em such a baste.
Do not deiect yourself nor rayle at fortune;
They are no helpes: thincke what you have to answeare.
_Mod_. Captaine, within this Castle in ready coyne
I have a thousand ducketts: doe me one curtesie,
It shalbe brought out presently.
_Cap_. What is it?
For I have use of money.
_Mod_. Doe but shoot me,
Clap both your Pistolls into me.
_Cap_. No, I thanck ye,
I know a trick worth ten o'that: ile love ye
And bring ye to those men that love to see ye.
Away, away; and keepe your pistolls spand still:
We may be forced.
_Mod_. I am undon for ever.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 2.
_Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort_.
_Bred_. Is't possible he should be so far tempted[181]
To kill himself?
_Vand_. 'Has don it and most desperately,
Nor could strong nature stay his hand,--his owne Child
That slept beside him: which showes him guilty, lords,
More then we suspected.
_Or_. 'Tis to be feard soe
And therefore, howsoere I movd your lordships
To a mild and sweet proceeding in this busines,
That nothing might be construde in't malitious
And make the world believe our owne ends wrought it,
Now it concernes ye to put on more strictnes
And with seveerer eyes to looke into it:
Ye robb yourselves of your owne rightes els, Justice,
And loose those pious names your Cuntries safeties.
And sodainely this must be don and constantly:
The powrs ye hold els wilbe scornd & laughd at,
And theis unchristian stroakes be laid to your charge.
_Bred_. Your Grace goes right; but with what generall safetie
(For ther's the mayne point), if we proceed seveerely
May this be don? We all know how much followed
And with what swarmes of love this Mounsieur _Barnavelt_
Is courted all the Cuntry over. Besides, at _Leyden_
We heare how _Hogerbeets_ behaves himself,
And how he stirrs the peoples harts against us.
And _Grotius_ has byn heard to say, and openly,
(A man of no meane mark nor to be slighted)
That if we durst imprison _Barnavelt_
He would fire the Court and State-house, and that Sacrifize
He would make more glorious with your blood and ours, Sir.
_Vand_. All angers are not armd; the lowdest Channell
Runs shallowest, and there betrayes his weaknes:
The deep & silent man threatens the danger.
_Or_. If they had equall powre to man their wills
And hope, to fling their miseries upon us,
I that nere feard an Army in the feild,
A body of most choice and excellent Soldiers
And led by Captaines honourd for experience:
Can I feare them or shake at their poore whispers?
I that have broke the beds of Mutenies
And bowde againe to faire obedience
Those stubborne necks that burst the raynes of order,
Shall I shrinck now and fall, shot with a rumour?
No, my good Lords, those vollyes never fright me;
Yet, not to seeme remisse or sleep secure here,
I have taken order to prevent their angers;
I have sent Patents[182] out for the choicest Companies
Hether to be remov'd: first, Collonell _Veres_
From _Dort_; next Sir _Charles Morgans_, a stowt Company;
And last my Cosens, the Count _Ernests_ Company:
With theis I doubt not to make good our busines;
They shall not find us babes.
_Bred_. You are nobely provident.
_Vand_. And now proceed when it please you, and what you thinck fit
We shall subscribe to all.
_Or_. I thanck your Honours.
Call in the Captaine of my Guard.
_Serv_. Hee's here, Sir.
_Enter Captaine_.
_Or_. Harck in your eare.
_Cap_. I shall, Sir.
_Or_. Doe it wisely
And without tumult.
_Cap_. I observe your Grace.
_Or_. Now take your rest, my lords: for what care followes
Leave it to me.
_All_. We wish it all succes, Sir.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 3.
_Enter Barnavelt (in his studdy)_.
_Bar_. This from the King of _Fraunce_, of much importance,
And this from _Englands_ Queene, both mightie Princes
And of immortall memories: here the Rewards sett,--
They lou'd me both. The King of _Swechland_ this,
About a Truyce; his bounty, too. What's this?
From the Elector Palatine of _Brandenburge_,
To doe him faire and acceptable offices:
I did so; a rich iewell and a chaine he sent me.
The Count of _Solems_, and this from his faire Countess
About compounding of a busines:
I did it and I had their thancks. Count _Bentham_,
The Archbishop of _Cullen_, Duke of _Brunswick_,
Grave _Embden_: theis from Citties, theis from Provinces;
Petitions theis; theis from the States for places.
Have I held correspondence with theis Princes,
And had their loves, the molding of their busines,
Trusted with their most secreat purposes?
Of every State acquainted with the misteries?
And must I stick here now, stick unreleevd, too?
Must all theis glories vanish into darknes,
And _Barnavelt_ passe with 'em and glide away
Like a spent exhalation? I cannot hold;
I am crackt too deepe alredy. What have I don
I cannot answeare? Foole! remember not
Fame has too many eares and eyes to find thee!
What help, ô miserable man? none left thee.
What constant frends? 'tis now a cryme to know thee
... ... ... be death.
_Enter Servant_.
_Serv_. My Lady would entreat, Sir--
_Bar_. My head? What art thou? from whom sent?
_Serv_. Heaven blesse me!
_Bar_. Are they so greedy of my blood?--O, pardon me:
I know thee now; thou art my honest Servant.
What would thy Lady?
_Serv_. Your Company to supper, Sir.
_Bar_. I cannot eate; I am full alredy, tell hir:
Bid hir sitt downe: full, full, too full. [_Exit Serv_.
My thancks
Poyzd equally with those faire services
I have done the States, I should walk confidently
Upon this high-straind danger. O, this end swayes me,
A heavy bad opinion is fixt here
That pulls me of; and I must downe for ever.
_Enter Daughter_[183]
_Daught_. Sir, will it please ye--
_Bar_. Ha!
_Daught_. Will it please ye, Sir--
_Bar_. Please me! what please me?--that I send thee, Girle,
To some of my great Masters to beg for me.
Didst thou meane so?
_Daught_. I meane, Sir--
_Bar_. Thou art too charitable
To prostitute thy beutie to releeve me;
With thy soft kisses to redeeme from fetters
The stubborne fortune of thy wretched father.
_Daught_. I understand ye not.
_Bar_. I hope thou do'st not.
_Daught_. My Lady Mother, Sir--
_Bar_. Prethee, good Girle,
Be not so cruell to thy aged father
To somme up all his miseries before him.
_Daught_. I come, Sir, to entreat your Company.
_Bar_. I am not alone.
_Daught_. My Mother will not eate, Sir.
--What fitt is this!
_Bar_. There can be no attonement:
I know the Prince: _Vandort_ is fleshd upon me,
And _Bredero_, though he be of noble nature,
Dare not step in. Wher's my Son _William_?
His Goverment is gon, too; and the Soldier,
O, the falce Soldier! What! wouldst thou have a husband?
Goe, marry an English Captaine, and hee'll teach thee
How to defy thy father and his fortune.--
I cannot eate; I have no stomach, Girle.
_Daught_. Good Sir, be patient.
_Bar_. No news from _Grotius_?
No flow of frends there? _Hoger-beets_ lye still, too?
--Away: ile come anon.
_Daught_. Now heaven preserve ye! [_Exit_.
_Bar_. A gentle Girle: why should not I pray, too?
I had nere more need. When I am sett and gon,
What understanding can they stick up then
To fill the place I bore? None, not a man:
To traffick with Great Princes? none: to deale
With all the trobles of the war? None, certaine, no man:
To bring in daylie treasure? I know no man;
They cannot pick a man made up to serve 'em.
Why should I feare then? doubt, and fly before
Myne owne weake thoughts?--Art thou there, too?
_Enter Wife[184] and Daughter_.
_Wife_. Fy, fy, Sir:
Why do you suffer theis sad dead retirements
To choake your speritts? You have studied long enough
To serve the uses of those men that scorne ye;
'Tis time you take your ease now.
_Bar_. I shall shortly;
An everlasting ease, I hope.
_Wife_. Why weep ye,
My deere Sir? speak.
_Bar_. Never till now unhappie!
Thy fruit there and my fall ripen togeather
And fortune gives me heires of my disgraces.
_Wife_. Take nobler thoughts.
_Bar_. What will becom of thee, Wiffe,
When I am gon? When they have gorgd their envies
With what I have, what honest hand in pitty
Will powre out to thy wants? What noble eye
Will looke upon my Children strooke with miserie
And say 'you had a father that I honourd;
For his sake be my Brothers and my Sisters.'
_Wife_. There cannot be such crueltie.
_Bar_. I hope not;
Yet what so confident Sailour that heares the Sea rore,
The winds sing lowd and dreadfull, the day darkend,
But he will cry 'a storme'! downe with his Canvas
And hull, expecting of that horrid feavour?
_Enter Son_.
--How now? What newes?
_Son_. Plucke up your hart, Sir, fairely
And wither not away thus poorely from us;
Be now secure: the myst ye feard is vanishd,--
_Leidenberch's_ dead.
_Bar_. Dead?
_Son_. Killd himself; his owne hand
Most bravely was his Justice; nor left behind him
One peece of paper to dishonour ye.
They are all to seeke now for their Accusations.
_Bar_. And is he dead? so timely, too? so truly?
Speak't againe, _Will_?
_Son_. Hee's dead, Sir, if I live here.
_Bar_. And his owne hand?
_Son_. His hand and will performd it.
_Bar_. Give me some wyne. I find now, notwithstanding
[_Enter Servant with wine_.
The opposition of those mindes that hate me,
A wise-man spyns his owne fate and secures it.
Nor can I, that have powre to perswade men dye,
Want living frends to iustifie my Creadit.
Goe in and get me meat now; invyte my frends,
I am determind to be high and merry.
Thou hast lost thy Charge; wee'll have another, _Will_;
It shall goe hard els. The Prince of _Orange_ now
Will find what frends I have, and of what reckning;
And when he seekes this life, he must make passage
Through thousands more and those he little dreames of.
_Son_. I wonder how he got that speritt, Sir, to dye soe?
_Bar_. He was a weak man, indeed, but he has redeemd it:
There be some other I could wish of his mind.
Do'st thinck they dare doe any thing now.
_Son_. 'Troth, I thinck not, Sir.
_Bar_. No, Boy, I warrant thee; they make great soundes,
But mark what followes. Prethee, let's be merry,
I want it much.
_Son_. I am glad to see you so, Sir.
_Enter Servant_.
_Bar_. I cannot be above two daies from Councell,
I know their wants. How now, what haste?
_Serv_. O, Sir, ye are undon;
We have lost ye.
_Bar_. Ha!
_Serv_. For ever lost ye.
_Bar_. Why?
[_Serv_.] The Captaine of the Guard, the Princes Captaine--
_Bar_. Where? how?
_Enter Wife & Daughter_.
_Serv_. Is broken in now upon us.
_Wife_. He will not be denyde. O, my deare Husband!
The cruell Princes Captaine!
[_Captaine within_.
_Cap_. Ope the dore;
Wee'll force it els, and all that dare resist us
Wee'll put to th'Sword.
_Bar_. Open the dore: farewell, Wiffe;
Goe to the French Embassadour presently;
There's all my hope. To him make knowne my misery,
Wooe him with teares, with praires: this kisse; be happie.
_Wife_. O, we shall never see ye more!
[_Exeunt Wife and Daughter_.
_Enter Captaine & others_.
_Bar_. Away!--
You Instrument of blood, why doe ye seeke us?
I have knowne the day you have wayted like a suppliant
And those knees bended as I past. Is there no reverence
Belonging to me left now, that like a Ruffian
Rudely ye force my lodgings? No punishment
Due to a cryme of that fowle nature?
_Cap_. You must pardon me,
I have commission, Sir, for what I offer,
And from those men that are your Masters, too;
At least you'll find 'em soe. You must shift your lodging,
And presently: I have a charge to see ye
Yeild yourself quietly.
_Bar_. Goe and tell their Lordships
I will attend to-morrow. I know my time
And how to meet their mallice without guards.
This is the Prince, the cruell Prince your Master,
The thirstie Prince of this poore Life.
_Cap_. Be not vext;
That will not help ye, Sir.
_Bar_. I wilbe vext,
And such an anger I will fling amongst 'em
Shall shake the servile soules of these poore wretches
That stick his slight deservings above mine.
I charge ye draw your Guard off and disperce 'em:
I have a powre as full as theirs.
_Cap_. You'll find not;
And I must have ye with me.
_Bar_. And am I subiect
That have stood the brunt of all their busines,
And when they slept watcht to secure their slombers,--
Subiect to slights, to scornes, to taynts, to tortures?
To feed one privat mallice am I betrayd?
Myne age, myne honour and my honest dealing
Sold to the hangmans Sword?
_Cap_. I cannot stay.
_Bar_. Take me
And glory in my blood, you most ungratefull;
Feed your long bloody hopes and bath your angers
In _Barnavelts_ deservings; share my Services;
Let it be death to pitty me; to speak well of me,
The ruyn of whole famylies. When I am gon
And angry war againe shall ceize your Cuntry,
Too late remember then and cursse your follyes.
--I am ready. Farwell, Son; remember me
But not my fortune; let them cry that shall want me.
_Cap_. No man come neere on paine of death: away with him.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 4.
_Enter Orange & 1 Captaine_.[185]
_Cap_. And as I told your Highnes, so wee tooke him.
_Or_. 'Twas with discretion and valour followd.
You were not noted as you made entraunce
Into the _Hague_?
_Cap_. No, Sir; 'twas about midnight,
And few were stirring but the Guard.
_Or_. The better.
Let his being brought in be still conceald, and tell him
If uncompelld he will confes the truth
At _Barnavelts_ Arraignement, that all favour
That I can wyn him shall prepare a way
To quallifie his fault.
_Cap_. Ile work him to it
And doubt not.
_Enter Burgers & Women with bowghs & flowres_.
_Cap_. 'Tis Kramis[186]-time,
In which it is a custome with the people
To deck their dores with Garlonds, Bowghes, and flowres
That are most gratious.
_Or_. I remember.
--Stand close.
[1] _Burg_. Strew, strew: more Garlonds and more Flowres.
Up with the Bowghes! Sacramant, I will have
My noble frends house, Mounseiur _Barnavelts_,
As well deckt as his Excellencies Court,
For though they have got him in prison he deserves
As well as any.
_Cap_. Mark you that.
2 _Burg_. 'Tis said
They will cutt of his head.
1 _Burg_. Much![187] with a Cusshin!
They know he has too many frends.
[2] _Burg_. They dare not.
People will talke: I hope ere long to see him
As great as ever.
[1] _Burg_. Greater too, I doubt not,
And of more powre; his feet upon the necks
Of all his Enemies.
_Or_. I am glad I heard this;
And _Barnavelt_ shall feele I will make use oft.
Come; follow me.
[_Exeunt_.
2 _Burg_. So, now the merry Song
We made for his good Lady. Lustique,[188] hoa!
[Song.
_Enter Wife above_.
_Wife_. All thancks, kind frends, that a sad house can give ye
Pray you receive; for I rest well assurd,
Though theis sports are unseasonable here,
They testifie your loves; and, if my Lord
Ere live to be himself againe, I know
He will remember it.
1 _Burg_. Now for the Daunce, Boyes.
_Wife_. Ther's something for your paines: drinck it, I pray.
2 _Burg_. To a doyt, my vroa, to thy Lords health and thyne.
The Bree[189] for his Excellencie and the Heeres
That love him not. Ten hundred thousand blessings
To him and thee, my vroa.
[_Daunce_.
_Wife_. I thanck you, frend.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 5.
_Enter Orange, Bredero, Vandort, William, Lords.
[Table_.
_Vand_. Let him be sent for presently: he shall know,
[_A Bar brought in_.
Were he ten times more popular, his frends
And flatterers Centuple, the Sword of Justice
Shall fall on him as on the meanest man
Since he deserves it.
_Enter Provost, Captaines & Guard with Barnavelt_.
_Pro_. Make roome for the Prisoner.
_Bar_. My dutie to your Highnes and theis Princes
And an increase of wisdome to your Lordships,
For which the world admires you, I wish to you.
Alas, what troble do's a weake old man,
(That is, being out of all imployment, useles)
The bag of his deserts, too, cast behind you,
Impose upon this Senat? My poore life
(Which others envy makes your Instruments
To fight against) will hardly be a Conquest
Worthie such great performers.
_Vand_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_,
'Tis no mans envy that hath brought us hether
To sitt as Judges on you, but your owne.
Your owne late actions they have raisd a war
Against your former merritts, and defeated
What ever then was ranckt for good and great,
For which your Enemies, those that you thought frends,
Triumph, not wee.
_Bre_. We rather wish you could
Acquitt yourself of that for which we have
Too evident prooffes, then labour to intrap you.
_Bar_. I must beleeve and suffer whatsoever
Your Lordships charge me with: yet would gladly heare
What my faultes are.
_Vand_. Read the Confessions
Of _Leidenberch_ and _Taurinus_.
_Bar_. _Leidenberch_!
_Officer reads_. First, that the _Arminian_ faction (of which Sir _John
Van Olden Barnavelt_, late Advocate of _Holland_ and _West Frizeland_
and Councellor of State, was without contradiction the head) had
resolved and agreed to renounce and break the generallity and unitie
of the State.
Secondly, Change and alter the Religion, and to that end, without the
Consent of the Generall States, had raysed up and dispeirsed 3000
Arminian Soldiers.
Thirdly, To degrade the Prince of _Orange_.
Fourthly, To massacre the people of the Townes which were their greatest
Enemies or offered resistaunce.
Fiftly, yf that fayled, to take in assistaunce of some forreigne
Potentates, as _Spaine_ or _Brabant_, delivering unto them _Utricht,
Nunweghen, Bergen op Zone_, and the _Brill_--
_Bar_. And that, with others, this was _Barnavelts_ purpose?
For so your Lordships take it.
_Bred_. With good reason.
_Vand_. Too many and strong proofes invyting us
To creadit it.
_Bar_. Yf you will have them such,
All truth I can bring to dyvert your Lordships
From your determinate opinion that way
Will not remove them. Yet 'tis strange that man
Should labour to devide those Generall States
That had no weak hand in unyting them,--
That _Barnavelt_ (a name you have remembered
When you have thought by whom you were mad happie)--
That _Barnavelt_ (alowd I dare repeat it),
Who, when there was Combustion in the State,
Your Excellence, Grave _William_ and Count _Henrie_,
Taking instructions for your Commaunds
From one that then ruld all; the Provinces
Refucing to bring in their Contributions
And arguing whether the West _Frizelander_
And _Hollander_ had powre to raise such Tribut,
When many of the Governours stood ill
Affected to you, all our Garrisons
Not sworne then to the Generall States but others,
Which the promiscuous multitude gladly followed:
When _Graves_ and _Vendloe_ were held by the _Spaniard_
And _Nunweghen_ with violence assaulted,
Confusion with one greedy gripe being ready
To seaze on all; then when the _Sluice_ was lost
And all in muteny at _Midleborough_,
Who then rose up or durst step in before me
To doe these Cuntries service? Who then labourd
More then the now suspected _Barnavelt_
T'appease seditions and compound all Quarrells?
Who pacified the Malcontents? Who taught you
To stand upon your Guards and trust yourselves?
O, you forgettfull, all this I performd
And in the golden fagot of faire Concord
Bound safely up those strengthes which Mutenies,
Corruption and homebred Traitors scatterd.
_Vand_. This is a point you often choose to treat of,
And yet some part of theis good services
None will deny you.
_Or_. But to ingrosse all
Would argue me your ward, should I give way too't,
And these grave Lords your Schollers.
_Bar_. In the Art
Of Goverment they scornd not once to be soe,
Nor you to give me hearing: and if ever
'Twer lawful th' unthanckfull men t'upbraid
Unequall benefitts, let it not in me
Be now held glorious if I speake my best.
I have five times in regall Embassies
Byn sent the principall Agent for theis Cuntries,
And for your good have spoken face to face
With mightie Kings: twyce with that virgin Queene,
Our Patronesse of happie memory,
_Elizabeth_ of _England_; twyce in _Fraunce_
With that invincible King that worthely
(Though dead) is still'd the _Great, Henry_ the _fourth_;
Once with the King of _Britaine_ that now is:
Yet let my greatest Enemy name the least
Of theis so high Imployments in which I
Treated without advantage, and returnd not
With proffitt, as with honour, to my Cuntry,
And let me fall beneath the worst aspersion
His mallice can throw on me. Besides Soldiers
So often levied by my meanes for you,
Which to particularize were teadious,
Two millions and five hundred thousand pounds,
For which the Provinces stood bound, I wrought
Freely to be dischargd; the Townes they pawnd
To be deliverd up; and after all
Theis meritorious and prosperous travells
T'unyte theis States, can _Barnavelt_ be suspected
To be the authour to undoe that knot
Which with such toyle he fastend[190].
_Or_. Pawse, I beseech you,
And while you gather breath to fill the Trumpet
Of your deserts give me leave to deliver
A litle for the States and mine owne honour.
We have heard a glorious Catalogue of your vertues
But not one vice or slip of yours rememberd;
But I will help your memory:--who was he
That gave intelligence of my sodaine comming
To surprize _Antwerpe_? They that brought the Letters
Were knowne and but from you could have no notice
Of any such design. Who hinderd me
From rescuing of _Rheinberch_ in the last Seige?
Who warranted the yeilding of it up
Without necessitie to the Governour?
Who was the cause no greater powre was sent
Against the Enemie when he past the Rhine
And tooke the Townes of _Oldensell, Lingen, Groll_?
To thinck of this would give a litle vent
To the windy bladder of your vanitie
Which you have blowne to an unlymitted vastnes.
Your Insolence to me before the Battaile
Of _Flaunders_ I forget[191].--
Call in _Modesbargen_.
_Bar_. [aside[192]] He a prisoner, too!
Then I am lost.
_Enter Captaine with Modesbargen_.
_Or_. Ha! do's that startle you?
_Bar_. [aside[192]] I must collect myself.
_Or_. You shall heare more.
_Modesb_. O, Mounseiur _Barnavelt_, do we meet thus?
I am as sorry to behold you there
As know myself a Prisoner. Now you perceive
To what a desperate state your headlong Counsells
And rash designes have brought us: to stand out now
Were to no purpose, for, alas, they have
Too pregnant prooffes against us.
_Bar_. You that feele
The horrour of fowle guilt in your falce bosom
Confes yourself soe; my strong Inocence
To the death stands constant.
_Or_. Take _Modesbargen_ in.
[_Exit Cap. and Modesb_.]
_Vand_. This is an impudence I never read of.
But now wee'll show thee, miserable man,
Such further prooffes as would call up a blush
Upon the devills cheeke. Looke upon this,
Signd by the Governor, Chauncellor and Counsell
Of _Gilderland_ and _Zutphen_, who here name thee
The roote and head of the late Schisme.
_Bred_. And this
Sent from the Lords of _Utrecht_, where 'tis prov'd
That the new Companies were raisd by you,
And to what purpose.
_William_. To subvert Religion,
To deface Justice and to breake the union
And holly League betweene the _Provinces_.
[_Henry_.[193] The Proclamations are allowd by you
Sent forth against the Protestants; and here
Your resolution to degrade my Brother
And then dispose of him as you thought fitt.]
_Vand_. Your plott here to withdraw all the old Soldiers
From the Commandement of the States, and wyn them
To serve for your ends in a Civill war.
_Bred_. To raise up Cittizen against Cittizen,
Stranger gainst stranger, Soldier against Soldier,
And Maiestrates against the Maiestrates.
_Or_. To waste the Land within that with lesse danger
The forraigne Enemy might make his entraunce.
Yf then this be not treacherie beyond
All presidents of Traitours--
_Bar_. Give me Leave
Onely to smile, then say all theis are falce,
Your witnesses subornd, your testemonies
And wrytings forgd, and this elaborate forme
Of Justice to delude the world a cover
For future practises: this I affirme
Upon my soule[194]. Now when you please condempne me:
I will not use one sillable for your mercy
To have mine age renewd and once againe
To see a second triumph of my glories.
You rise, and I grow tedious; let me take
My farwell of you yet, and at the place
Where I have oft byn heard; and, as my life
Was ever fertile of good councells for you,
It shall not be in the last moment barren.
_Octavius_[195], when he did affect the Empire
And strove to tread upon the neck of _Rome_
And all hir ancient freedoms, tooke that course[196]
That now is practisd on you; for the _Catos_
And all free sperritts slaine or els proscribd
That durst have stir'd against him, he then sceasd
The absolute rule of all. You can apply this[197]:
And here I prophecie I, that have lyvd
And dye a free man, shall when I am ashes
Be sensible of your groanes and wishes for me;
And when too late you see this Goverment
Changd to a Monarchie[198] youll howle in vaine
And wish you had a _Barnavelt_ againe.
Now lead me where you will: a speedy Sentence:
I am ready for it and 'tis all I ask you.
[_Exeunt_.
_Actus Quintus_.
SCAENA PRIMA.
_Enter Wife, Daughter, Servant with Peares_.
_Wife_. Denyde to see my Husband! ô you Tirants!
And (to increase my misery) in vaine
By heaven I kneeld for't, wept and kneeld in vaine
To such as would, while _Barnavelt_ was himself--
But why do I remember that word 'was,'
That never happie word of 'was.'
_Serv_. Good Madam,
Beare (with your usuall wisdom) what is not
In you to help. The strict guard's kept upon him;
His State ceizd on; my Lord your Son disgracd, too,
And all your frends suspected, may assure you
No price beneath his head must answeare for him.
_Daughter_. But is he not alredy dead?
_Wife_. I, I,
There lyes my feare.
_Serv_. I sweare to you I saw him
Not many howres since, and hundreds more;
But yet, as one that's bound to honour him,
I had rather have had assuraunce of his death
Than so to have seen him.
_Both_. Why?
_Serv_. I have followd him
When every step he made met a Petition,
And these, that are his Judges now, like Clyents
Have wayted on him. The whole Court attended
When he was pleasd to speake, and, with such murmours
As glad Spectators in a Theater
Grace their best Actors with, they ever heard him;
When to have had a sight of him was held
A prosperous omen; when no eye gazd on him
That was not filld with admiration, not
As now with scorne or pitty. His rude Guard,
For proofe that they contempne all such as ayme
Or hope for his release (as if he were
Some prodigie or monster), each night show him
To such as greive his fortune, which must be
To him worse then ten thousand deaths made horrid
With all the actes of Crueltie.
_Daught_. I have hope yet
To see an alteration.
_Wife_. My good Servant,
He has some frends left yet and powerfull ones
That can doe more then weepe for him as we doe;
Those I will strayt sollicite. In the meane time,
That to his comfort he may know so much,
Endeavour thou to have this simple present
As from thy self sent to him.
_Serv_. I will hazard
All that can fall upon me to effect it.
[_Exeunt[199] Wife and Daughter_.
_Enter Provost & Guard_.
_Pro_. What makes this fellow here? Whether would ye, Sir?
_Serv_. Sir, to desire accesse unto my Lord
Were to ask that I know must be denide,
And therefore I forbeare it; but intreating
What cannot wrong you in the graunt, I hope
To find you curteous.
_Pro_. What's the Suit?
_Serv_. This onely:
My Lord, your prisoner, for my service gave me
A poore house with an Orchard in the Cuntry.
The fruites of which he did not scorne to taste of
In th'height of his prosperitie; but of all
That pleasd his pallat there was one faire tree,
On which theis Peares grew, which by his appointment
Were still reservd for him, and as a Rent
Due for my Living I stood bound to tender.
Theis, yf you please, the last I shall pay to him,
I would present him with, by what Attorney
Your goodnes shall prescribe me.
_Prov_. They are faire Peares,
Exceeding faire ones: ile make bold with one,
The rest beare to him.
_Serv_. [aside[200]] All wilbe discoverd,
I am glad I am got off, yet. [_Exit_.
_Enter Provosts Wife_[201].
_Prov_. What make you here?
Do you come to traile a pike or use a Musket?
_Wife_. For neither, Sir; I came to see you.
_Pro_. Home!
This is no place for women. To your Gossips!
This burthen would become a Chamber better.
_Wife_. 'Tis a faire Peare.
_Prov_. You long for't: pray you take it,
You are priviledgd now to beg.--Ha! charmes in't? stay,
Give mee't. I would not for a thousand dollars
This had byn undiscoverd. Pray you goe home;
At night ile see you.
_Wife_. You know my obedience
And I must practise it.
_Prov_. Make out for the fellow
That came with this device. 'Twas queintly carried:
The stalke pluckt cleanly out, and in the quill
This scroll conveyd. What ere it be the Prince
Shall instantly peruse it.
_Enter Orange, Wm., Vandort, Bredero_.
_Or_. How came you by this?
_Prov_. I intercepted it in a dish of Peares
Brought by a man of _Barnavelts_, but sent to him
From some of better ranck.
_Or_. See what is written here,--
'You have frends left and therefore, Sir, dispaire not.'
_Vand_. 'Tis this that feeds his Insolence, theis are they
That, when they should have paid their prairs for him
As for a guilty man, adoarnd his house
In the dispight of us and of our Justice.
_Bred_. But such shall find their flattering breath but makes
The fire, our Cuntries safetie byds us cherish,
To burne with greater heate.
_Vand_. And so consume him.
_Or_. The freedom of our goverment, and our honours,
And what we dare doe now lies at the stake.
The better part of all the christian world
Marks our proceedings, and it wilbe said,
Yf having the Conspirators in our powre
We sentence none of them, being convincd, too,
Of fowre and thirtie Articles and each treason,
'Tis don for feare. Then, to affright the rest,
I hold it fitt that _Barnavelt_, one that has
Most frends and meanes to hurt, and will fall therefore
With greater terror, should receive his Sentence,
Then dye as he deserves. For _Modesbargen_
And _Hogerbeets_ we shall find fitt time to
Thinck of them hereafter.
_Bred_. Let him be sent for.
_Vand_. In the meane time 'tis fit we should give hearing
To the _French_ Embassadors, who, I know, come now
To mediat for him.
_Bred_. Wayt upon them in:
Their Propositions shalbe answeard freely,
And by such men as are their frends, not Servants.
_Enter Boisise, Morier, Wife, Daughter, Attendants_.
_Boi_[202]. We will plead for him and prevaile, we doubt not.
Take comfort therefore, Madam, and a while,
Since you are not to be admitted here,
Leave us to our endeavors.
_Wife_. Heaven direct
And prosper theis your charitable traviles.
[_Exeunt Wife & Daughter_.
_Or_. Bring Chaires there for their Lordships.
[_2 Chaires_.
_Vand_.[203] And prepare them
A sylent hearing.
_Bois_. My good Lords,
We are commaunded by the King our Master
(Who ever hath respected your affaires
As the tranquility of his owne kingdoms)
To let you thus far understand his pleasure:
He do's exhort you, as the best foundation
Of your estate, with all care to preserve
The union of your provinces, and wishes
The change that you have made of Maiestrates,
The Advocate and Counsellors of State
In many of your Townes, breed not dissentions
In steed of ceasing them. Touching your Prisoners
That stand accusd of detestable Crymes,
His Counsaile is, if they be culpable,
That you use speedy Justice and with rigour.
_Mor_. Ever remembring that the greatest Princes
Have sometimes to their glory byn most apt
To pardon what was enterprizd against
Their Goverments, nay their lives; and that the freest
And the best Common-Wealthes, have alwaies usd
To spare the blood of their owne Cittizens,
And that in great offenders--it still being
The principall signe of libertie and freedom
Not easily, but with mature advice,
To touch the lives of Cittizens.
_Bois_. And the rather
When question is made of such as are
Your officers placed in authoritie,
Of whom the ancientst Mounsieur _Barnavelt_,
So much commended for so many good
And notable services don for theis Cuntries,
Deserves most serious regard. My Master
And other Kings & Princes your allyes,
Lyving yet witnesses of his great meritts
And with such admiration that they can
Be hardly brought to thinck he should conspire
Against these States, for which yourselves best know
What travayles he hath undergon; and therefore
Once more he do's advice you to use mercy,
Which if you doe, he then shall thinck you merit
The many favours you have tasted from him:
Yf not, he having given you whollsom Counsaile,
Yf you refuce it he must thinck himself
Slighted in his requests; and then, perhaps,
Hereafter you may misse that promptnes in him
Which you have found when your wants most requird it.
_Vand_. May it please your Highnes in the names of all
To make their Lordships answeare.
_Or_. Willingly;
For I must still be glad to take occasion
To speak how much your Lordships and myself
Ever stand bound to that most Christian King
Whose favours, with all thancks, we must acknowledge
As with all care preserve. Onely we hope
His Maiestie will give us leave to say
We greive that he is misinformd of us
And our proceedings, of which we hereafter
Will give him certaine and unanswerable proofes
To iustefie our Actions, which we will
Make knowne to all the world; till when we wish
He will be pleasd to give way to the States
To finish what they have begon, with Justice
Temperd with mercy; and that your good Lordships
Will give his Grace to understand thus much,
If with the generall voice you doe approve it.
_Bred_. We will confirme it with our generall Seale,
And send our answeare to his Propositions
With our respect and duties.
_Mor_. This we shall
Make knowne unto him.
_Or_. Roome there for their Lordships.
[_Ext. Embs_.
_Bred_. What thinck you now, my Lords?
_Vand_. In my opinion
'Tis time he had his Sentence!
_Wm_. Is it drawne?
_Vand_. Yes, here it is. The peoples loves grow daungerous;
In every place the whispers of his rescue;
The lowd and common voice of his deservings
Is floong abroad. Nor doe they handle theis things
By rules of truth and reason, but their owne wills--
Their headstrong hott affections.
_Bred_. Is he sent for?
_Or_. Yes and will presently be here.
_Bred_. Sit downe then,
And now with speedy Justice let's prepare
To cutt off this Imposthume.
_Enter Provost & Guard, with Barnavelt_.
_Vand_. 'Tis high time, Sir.
_Prov_. Roome for the Prisoner!
_Vand_. Bring him in; Sit downe, Sir,
And take your last place with us.
_Bar_. 'Tis your forme
And I infringe no order.
_Bred_. Mounseiur _Barnavelt_,
Will ye confes yet freely your bad practises
And lay those Instruments open to the World,
Those bloody and bold Instruments you wrought by?
Mercy may sleepe awhile but never dyes, Sir.
_Bar_. I have spoake all I can, and seald that all
With all I have to care for now, my Conscience.
More I beseech your honours--
_Or_. Take your pleasure.
_Vand_. You will give us no more lights: What this world gives you,
To morrow thus we take away. Receive it.
_Bar_. My Sentence?
_Vand_. Yes; consider for your soule now,
And so farewell.
_Bar_. I humbly thanck your honours:
I shall not play my last Act worst.
_Bred_. Heavens mercy
And a still conscience wayt upon your end, Sir.
_Or_. Now guard him back againe: by the break of day
You shall have order from us.
_Prov_. Roome for the Prisoner!--
[_Ext. Provost and Guard, with Barnavelt_.
_Or_. The world shall know that what's iust we dare doe.
_Vand_. Nor shall the desperate act of _Leidenberch_
Delude what we determind. Let his Coffin
Be therefore hangd up on the publique Gallowes.
Th'Executioners like hungry vultures
Have smelld out their imployment.
_Or_. Let them have it:
And all that plot against the generall good
Learne from this mans example, great in age,
Greater in wealth and in authoritie,
But matchles in his worldly pollicie,
That there is one above that do's deride
The wisest counsailes that are misaplide.
[_Exeunt_.
SCAENA 2.
_Enter Harlem, Leyden & Utrecht Executioners_.
_Har_. Now hard and sharpe, for a wager, who shall doe it. Here's a
Sword would doe a man's head good to be cut of with it; cures all
rhumes, all Catharres, megroomes, verteegoes: presto, be gone!
_Ley_. You must not carry it, _Harlem_: you are a pretty fellow and lop
the lyne of life well, but weake to _Baltazar_. Give roome for _Leyden_:
heer's an old Cutter, heer's one has polld more pates and neater then a
dicker[204], of your Barbers; they nere need washing after. Do's not thy
neck itch now to be scratchd a little with this?
_Har_. No, in truth do's it not; but if you'll try first, yf I doe not
whip your dodipoll as clenly of and set it on againe as handsomely as it
stands now, that you may blow your nose and pledge me too Cans after--
_Ley_. I was afraid
The rogue had don't indeed.
_Utr_. You two imagine now
You are excellent workmen and that you can doe wonders,
And _Utrecht_ but an Asse. Let's feele your Raizors:
Handsawes, meere handsawes! Do you put your knees to'em too,
And take mens necks for timber? You cutt a feather?
Cut butter when your tooles are hot! Looke here, puppies;
Heer's the sword that cutt of _Pompeis_ head.
_Har_. The head of a Pumpion.[205]
_Utr_. Looke on't but come not neere it: the very wind on't
Will borrow a leg or an arme. Heers touch & take, boyes!
And this shall moaw the head of Mounsieur _Barnavelt_.
Man is but grasse and hay: I have him here
And here I have him. I would undertake with this Sword
To cutt the devills head of, hornes and all,
And give it to a Burger for his breakfast.
_Ley_. We know you have byn the headman of the parish
A great while, _Utricht_, and ministerd much Justice,
Nickt many a worthie gamester; and that you, _Harlem_,
Have shortend many a hanging cause, to your Commendation:
Yet, for all this, who shall trym Monsieur _Barnavelt_
Must run by fortune. You are proper men both;
But why before me that have studdied the true trick on't
Theis twenty yeeres, and run through all the theorems?
_Har_. Let's fling for't then.
_Ley_. I am content.
_Utr_. And I.
_Har_. Sit round, then: here are dyce, and ile begin to ye.
Have at your head, Sir _John_! dewce ace[206]; a doggs-head![207]
The devill turnd this ace up. Farwell, velvet gowne!
Thou hast mist the luckiest hand to scratch thy Coxcomb.
_Ley_. No, no, Sir.
Now for my part. Heigh! fight aloft for the head, boyes.
How? Cater-trey[208]?
_Utr_. Will you take a sleeve for your share, Sir?
_Ley_. 'Tis but a desperat cast, and so hee'l find it,
If it fall to me. Cast for your game.
_Utr_. Have at it:
Stay, let me swing my Sword thrice round first: now,
Now the Graves head ... goose giblitts.--
Two sixes, boyes! I knew I should performe it.
Har. Ye have it: thanck your fortune.
_Utr_. I could not misse it,
I never lost so faire a stake yet. How ile doe it
And in what posture: first, how ile take my leave of him,
With a few teares to draw more money from him;
Then fold up his braunchd[209] gowne, his hat, his doblet,
And like the devill cry 'mine owne! lye there, boyes!'
Then bind his eyes; last stir myself up bravely
And, in the midle of a whollsome praire,
Whip and--_hic iacet Barnavelt_.--
Come, let's sing our old Song,
And then come view me how I doe my busines.
Boy, come, sing you for me.
[_Song. Exeunt_.
SCAENA 3.
_Enter 2 Captaines[210] & their Soldiers, severally_.
1 _Cap_. Here stand we fast.
2 _Cap_. Cock all your Musketts, Soldiers, now,
And gentlemen be ready to bend your pikes;
The prisoner's comming out.
1 _Cap_. But doe you thinck
They meane to take his head of, or to fright him?
2 _Cap_. Heaven keep me from such frights. Why are theis Guards
Commaunded to make good the Execution,
If they intend not death?
1 _Cap_. But dare they doe it?
2 _Cap_. What dare not Justice do that's right and honest?
Is he not proov'd a guilty man? What bugs
Should publick safety be afraid to looke on?
Do you hold the United _States_ so tame to feare him,--
Feare him a Traitor, too?
1 _Cap_. You know hee's much lov'd,
And every where they stir in his Compassion.
2 _Cap_. They'll stir so long till some of 'em will sinck for't,
Some of the best I feare that glewd his faction;
Their building lyes discoverd and their bases broken.
1 _Cap_. There is much money laid in every place, too,
Hundreds and thousands, that they dare not strike him.
2 _Cap_. Give loosers leave to play the fooles; 'tis lost all.
Secure yourself he dyes; nor is it wisdom
To go an ace lesse with him: he is monstrous.
--The people hurry now; stand fast, he is comming.
_Enter Provost, Soldiers & Executioners, with a Coffin & a Gibbett_.
_Pro_. Make roome before! cleere all theis gaping people
And stop their passage.
1 _Cap_. How now? What wonder's this?
_Prov_. Stay! or ile make ye stay: I charge ye stir not.
2 _Cap_. What thinck you now? dare not theis men do Justice?
This is the body of _Leidenberg_, that killd himself
To free his Cause: his shame has found him yet.
_Prov_. Up with him, come: set all your hands & heave him!
_Exec_. A plaguy, heavy Lubber! Sure this fellow
Has a bushell of plot in's belly, he weighes so massy.
Heigh! now againe! he stincks like a hung poll cat.
This rotten treason has a vengeance savour;
This venison wants pepper and salt abhominably.
_Prov_. Pyn him aloft, and pin him sure.
_Exec_. I warrant ye;
If ere he run away againe ile swing for him.
This would make a rare signe for a Cookes shop,
The Christmas pie.
[_Exeunt Executioners_.
_Prov_. Come; now about the rest.--Keepe the Court cleere still.
[_Exeunt Provost and Soldiers_.
2 _Cap_. What thinck you now?
1 _Cap_. Now I am afraid of him.
This prologue should portend a fatall Tragedie:
Theis examples will make 'em shake.
2 _Cap_. 'Tis well they have 'em;
Their stubbornenes and pride requires 'em greater.
The Prince strikes iust ith' nick and strikes home nobely:
This new pretending faction had fird all els;
They had floong a generall ruyn on the Cuntry.
_Enter Boyes & Burgers_.
1 _Boy_. He comes, he comes, he comes! ô for a place now!
2 _Boy_. Let's climb the Battlements.
_Cap_. Away with theis rogues.
1 _Burg_. I saw the Guard goe for him: Where shall we be now?
2 _Burg_. He will make a notable Speech, I warrant him.
3 _Burg_. Let's get us neere the Skaffold.
1 _Cap_. Keep of, Turnops:
Ye come upon our Pikes els.
1 _Burg_. Pox o' theis Soldiers?
We cannot see our frends hangd in quiet for 'em.
Come, come, to th' top oth' hall.
[_Exeunt Boys & Burgers_.]
2 _Cap_. Away, good pilchers![211]
Now blow your matches and stand fast: he comes here.
1 _Cap_. And now bend all your pikes.
_Enter Provost, Barnavelt, Lords, Guard.
(A Scaffold put out) Executioner_.
_Prov_. Cleere all the Skaffold;
Let no more into th'Court; we are choakd with people.
_Bar_. You are curteous in your preparations, gentlemen,
1 _Lord_. You must ascend, Sir.
_Bar_. Feareles I will, my lords,
And, what you can inflict, as feareles suffer.
Thus high you raise me, a most glorious kindnes
For all my Cares! For my most faithfull service
For you and for the State thus ye promote me!
I thanck ye, Cuntrymen, most nobely thanck ye.
--Pull of my Gowne. Of what place are ye, frend?
_Exec_. Of _Utrich_, Sir.
_Bar_. Of _Utrich_! Wherefore, prethee,
Art thou appointed here?
_Exec_. To tell you true, Sir,
I won this place at dyce: we were three appointed.
_Bar_. Am I becom a generall game? a Rest[212]
For every Slave to pull at? Thanck ye still:
You are growne the noblest in your favours, gentlemen.
--What's that hangs there? what Coffin?
_Lord_. How it stirrs him.
2 _Lord_. The body, Sir, of _Leidenberch_[213] the Traitour.
_Bar_. The traitour?
2 _Lord_. I, the Traitour, the fowle Traitour,
Who, though he killd himself to cleere his cause,
Justice has found him out and so proclaimd him.
_Bar_. Have mercy on his soule! I dare behold him.
1 _Lord_. Beleeve me, he's much moved.
2 _Lord_. He has much reason.
_Bar_. Are theis the holly praires ye prepare for me--
The comforts to a parting soule? Still I thanck ye,
Most hartely and lovingly I thanck ye.
Will not a single death give satisfaction,
O you most greedy men and most ungratefull,--
The quiet sleep of him you gape to swallow,
But you must trym up death in all his terrors
And add to soules departing frights and feavors?
Hang up a hundred Coffins; I dare view 'em,
And on their heads subscribe a hundred treasons
It shakes not me, thus dare I smile upon 'em
And strongly thus outlooke your fellest Justice.
2 _Lord_. Will ye bethinck ye, Sir, of what ye come for.
_Bar_. I come to dye: bethinck you of your Justice
And with what Sword ye strike, the edge of mallice.
Bethinck ye of the travells I had for ye,
The throaes and grones to bring faire peace amongst ye;
Bethinck ye of the dangers I have plundgd through
And almost gripes of death, to make you glorious.
Thinck when the Cuntry, like a Wildernes,
Brought nothing forth but desolation,
Fire, Sword and Famine; when the earth sweatt under ye
Cold dewes of blood, and _Spanish_ flames hoong ore ye,
And every man stood markt the child of murder
And women wanted wombes to feed theis cruelties;--
Thinck then who stept in to you, gently tooke ye
And bound your bleeding wounds up; from your faces
Wipd of the sweatts of sorrow, fed and nurssd ye;
Who brought the plowgh againe to crowne your plenty;
Your goodly meadowes who protected (Cuntrymen)
From the armd Soldiers furious marches; who
Unbard the Havens that the floating Merchant
Might clap his lynnen wings up to the windes
And back the raging waves to bring you proffit.
Thinck through whose care you are a Nation
And have a name yet left,--a fruitfull Nation
(Would I could say as thanckfull)--bethinck ye of theis things
And then turne back and blush, blush [for] my ruyne.
1 _Lord_. 'Tis strange how this [man b]rags; 'tis a strange impudence
Not to be pittied in his [case], not sufferd.
You breed the peace, you bring the plowgh againe?
You wipe the fire and blood of from this Cuntry,
And you restore hir to hir former Beuty?
Blush in thine age, bad man; thy grave blush for thee
And scorne to hide that man that holds no Creadit.
Beare witnes all the world that knowes our Trobles
Or ever greiv'd our plagues, what we have sufferd
And, under Heaven, by what armes we have cur'd theis,--
Councells and frends; in which I tell thee (_Barnavelt_),
And through thy Impudence I here proclaime it,
Thou hadst the least and last share. 'Tis not your face, Sir,
The greatnes of your friends, corruptly purchast,
The Crying up of your manie Services,
Which lookd into wither away like Mushrumps,
Shall scandall us.
2 _Lord_. Your _Romaine_ end, to make men
Imagine your strong conscience fortifide,
No, nor your ground Religion. Examine all men
Branded with such fowle syns as you now dye for,
And you shall find their first stepp still Religion.
_Gowrie_ in _Scotland_, 'twas his maine pretention:
Was not he honest, too? his Cuntries father?
Those fyery Speritts next that hatchd in _England_
That bloody Powder-Plot, and thought like meteors
To have flashd their Cuntryes peace out in a Moment:
Were not their Barrells loden with Religion?
Were not they pious, iust and zealous Subiects?
Humble your soule for shame, and seeke not now, Sir,
To tumble from that happines even Angells
Were throwne from for their pride. Confes, and dye well.
1 _Lord_. Will ye confes your faultes?
_Bar_. I come not heather
To make myself guilty; yet one fault I must utter,
And 'tis a great one.
2 _Lord_. The greater mercy.
_Bar_. I dye for saving this unthanckfull Cuntry.
1 _Lord_. Play not with heaven.
_Bar_. My Game's as sure as yours is,
And with more care and inocence I play it.
Take of my doblet; and I prethee, fellow,
Strike without feare.
_Exec_. I warrant ile fitt ye.
I pray forgive me, Sir.
_Bar_. Most hartely,
And heer's my hand. I love thee, too: thy physick
Will quickly purge me from the worldes abuses.
When I speak lowdest, strike.
_Exec_. I shall observe ye.
_Bar_. Farwell, my lords: to all your Counsailes fortune,
Happie succes and proffit; peace to this Cuntry;
And to you all, that I have bredd like children,
Not a more faithfull father but more fortunate.
Doe not I stay too long?
2 _Lord_. Take your owne time, Sir.
_Bar_. I have a wiffe, my lords, and wretched children,
Unles it please his Grace to looke upon 'em
And your good honours with your eies of favour.
'Twill be a litle happines in my death
That they partake not with their fathers ruyns.
1 _Lord_. Let not that troble ye: they shall not find it.
_Bar_. Commend my last breath to his Excellence;
Tell him the Sun he shot at is now setting,
Setting this night, that he may rise to morrow,
For ever setting. Now let him raigne alone
And with his rayes give life and light to all men.
May he protect with honour, fight with fortune,
And dye with generall love, an old and good Prince.
My last petition, good Cuntrymen, forget me:
Your memories wound deeper then your mallice,
And I forgive ye all.--A litle stay me.--
Honour and world I fling ye thus behind me,
And thus a naked poore man kneele to heaven:
Be gracious to me, heare me, strengthen me.
I come, I come, ô gracious heaven! now, now,
Now, I present--
_Exec_. Is it well don mine Heeres?
1 _Lord_. Somewhat too much; you have strooke his fingers, too,
But we forgive your haste. Draw in the body;
And Captaines, we discharge your Companies.
_Vand_. Make cleere the Court.--Vaine glory, thou art gon!
And thus must all build on Ambition.
2 _Lord_. Farwell, great hart; full low thy strength now lyes:
He that would purge ambition this way dies.
_Exeunt_.
INTRODUCTION TO _CAPTAIN UNDERWIT_.
This anonymous Comedy is printed, for the first time, from Harl. MS.
7,650,--a small quarto of eighty-nine leaves. I have followed Halliwell
(Dictionary of Old Plays) in adopting the title, Captain _Underwit_.
There is no title-page to the MS.
An editor with plenty of leisure on his hands would find ample
opportunities in Captain _Underwit_ for discursive comment. Sometimes I
have been obliged to pass over odd phrases and out-of-the-way allusions
without a line of explanation; but in the index at the end of the fourth
volume I hope to settle some difficulties that at present are left
standing.
The date of the play I take to be circ. 1640 or 1642. In I. 1 there is a
mention of the "league at _Barwick_ and the late expeditions," where the
reference can only be to Charles I.'s march into Scotland in the spring
of 1639, and to the so-called Pacification of _Berwick_. Again, in III.
3, there is an allusion to the Newmarket Cup. Historians of the Turf say
that Newmarket races date from 1640; but this statement is incorrect,
for in Shirley's _Hyde Park_ (V. 1),--a play licensed in 1632 and
printed in 1637,--mention is made of a certain "Bay _Tarrall_ that won
the Cup at Newmarket." We find also an allusion to the "great ship"
(III. 3), which was built in 1637. Of Mr. Adson's "new ayres" (IV. 1) I
know very little. He brought out in 1621 a volume of "Courtly Masquing
Ayres," but published nothing later,--although, of course, he may have
continued writing long afterwards. Hawkins and Mr. Chappell are
altogether silent about Adson's achievements.
Gerard Langbaine tells us that Shirley left at his death some plays in
manuscript: I have little doubt, or rather no doubt at all, that Captain
_Underwit_ is one of them. In the notes I have pointed out several
parallelisms to passages in Shirley's plays; and occasionally we find
actual repetitions, word for word. But apart from these strong proofs,
it would be plain from internal evidence that the present piece is a
domestic comedy of Shirley's, written in close imitation of Ben Jonson.
All the characters are old acquaintances. Sir Richard Huntlove, who
longs to be among his own tenants and eat his own beef in the country;
his lady, who loves the pleasures of the town, balls in the Strand, and
masques; Device, the fantastic gallant,--these are well-known figures in
Shirley's plays. No other playwright of that day could have given us
such exquisite poetry as we find in Captain _Underwit_. The briskness,
too, and cleverness of the dialogue closely recall Shirley; but it must
be owned that there are few plays of Shirley's written with such
freedom, not to say grossness.
[CAPTAIN UNDERWIT, A COMEDY.]
_Act the First_.
_Enter Captaine Underwit and his man Thomas_.
_Un_. Come, my man _Thomas_, and my fathers old man _Thomas_; reioyce,
I say, and triumph: thy Master is honourable.
_Tho_. Then wee are all made.
_Un_. No, tis only I am made.
_Tho_. What, and please your worship?
_Un_. I am made a Captaine of the traind band,[214] _Thomas_, and this
is my Commission, this very paper hath made me a Captaine.
_Tho_. Are you a paper Captaine, Sir? I thought more had gone to the
makeing up of a Captaine.
_Un_. They are fooles that thinke so, provided he have the favour of the
Livetenant of the County.
_Tho_. Which it seemes you have.
_Un_. The honour of it is more then the thing, _Thomas_, since I did
not bribe the Secretarys steward or what servant else so ever hath the
government of his Lordship therein.
_Tho_. This is very strange.
_Un_. Not so much as transitorie wicker bottles to his Deputy
Livetenant, no fewell for his winter, no carriages for his summer, no
steple sugarloaves to sweeten his neighbours at Christmas, no robbing my
brave tennants of their fatt Capons or Chickens to present his worship
withall, _Thomas_.
_Tho_. I cry your worship mercy, you sold him land the last terme; I had
forgott that.
_Un_. I, that lay convenient for him. I us'd him like a gentleman and
tooke litle or nothing; 'twere pitty two or three hundred acres of dirt
should make friends fall out: we should have gone to fenceing schools.
_Tho_. How, sir?
_Un_. I meane to _Westminster_ hall, and let one another blood in Lawe.
_Tho_. And so the Land has parted you?
_Un_. Thou saist right, _Thomas_, it lies betweene both our houses
indeed. But now I am thus dignified (I thinke that's a good word) or
intituled is better, but tis all one; since I am made a Captaine--
_Tho_. By your owne desert and vertue.
_Un_. Thou art deceavd; it is by vertue of the Commission,--the
Commission is enough to make any man an officer without desert;
_Thomas_, I must thinke how to provide mee of warlike accoutrements to
accomodate, which comes of Accomodo[215]: _Shakespeare_. The first, and
the first--
_Tho_. No, Sir, it comes of so much money disburs'd.
_Un_. In troth, and it does, _Thomas_; but take out your table bookes
and remember to bring after me into the Country, for I will goe downe
with my father in law Sir _Richard_ this morning in the Coach,--let me
see--first and formost: a Buff Coate and a paire of breeches.
_Tho_. First and formost: Item, a Buff Coate fox and a paire of breeches
of the same Cloth.
_Un_. A paire of bootes and spurres, and a paire of shooes without
spurres.
_Tho_. Spurres.
_Un_. A paire of gray stockins, thick dapple gray stockins, with a belt,
to be worne either about my shoulder or about my wast.
_Tho_. Wast.
_Un_. A _London Dutch_ felt without a band, with a feather in't.
_Tho_. Without a feather in't.
_Un_. An old fox[216] blade made at _Hounsloe_ heath, and then all the
Bookes to be bought of warlike discipline, which the learned call
Tacticks.
_Tho_. Ticktacks.[217]--If your worship would take my Counsell,
considering the league at _Barwick_[218] and the late expeditions, wee
may find some of these things in the North or else speake with some
reform'd Captaine, though he bee a Catholike; and it may bee wee may
have them at cheaper rates.
_Un_. 'Tis true, Thomas: but I must change the lynings of the breeches,
for I love to bee cleanly.
_Tho_. So you may, Sir; and have the fowling of them yourselfe.
_Un_. Let me see: A leading staff--
_Tho_. A leaden staffe--
_Un_. A lead'ing staffe.
_Tho_.--ding staffe. Why, a Cane is a leading staffe in a Captaines
hand.
_Un_. But I must have tassells, _Thomas_, and such things.
_Tho_. At the harnesse of the Carthorses there are tassells and Bells,
too, if you will.
_Un_. Bells? What should I doe with em?
_Tho_. Ring all your companie in.
_Un_. Thou would'st make me a Captaine of a Morris dance. What serve the
phifes and Drumms for, prethee?
_Tho_. But does your worship thinke you shall endure the bouncing of the
Gunns? I observed you ever kept a way of at the Musters.
_Un_. Thou shalt therefore every morne goe a birding about the house to
inure me to the report. By that tyme thou hast kild all my pigeons I
shall endure the noise well enough.
_Tho_. But, Sir, you must have a dry Nurse, as many Captaines have. Let
me see: I can hire you an old limping decayed Sergeant at _Brainford_
that taught the boyes,--he that had his beard sing'd of at the last
Muster: hee'le doe it bravely.
_Un_. What must he have?
_Tho_. Alas, twenty pipes[219] of _Barmudas_ a day, six flagons of
March[220] beere, a quart of Sack in a weeke, for he scornes meate; and
the kitching wench to bring the shirt to him and the only band, for
Cuffs he gets none but such as his drunkennes procures him with
quarrelling.
_Un_. No, I shall be bashfull to learne of a stranger, thou sha't goe
seeke out Captaine _Sackburye_.
_Tho_. He that weares no money in his scarlett hose, and when he is
drunke is infected with Counsell?
_Un_. The very same; you shall find him at his Lodging in _Fleetstreet_
or in the next taverne. Give him this Letter; tell him I desire his
Companie this summer in the Country. He shall have a horse of mine,
say:--here, give him this gold, too.
_Tho_. I hope it is gameing gold.
_Un_. He shall read warres to me and fortification.
_Tho_. I can teach you to build a sconce[221], sir.
_Un_. Beside, he is very valiant; he beate me twice when he was drunk,
but, poore fellow, I ask'd him forgivenes the next day. Make hast, good
_Thomas_, and remember all the Tacticks.
_Tho_. I warrant you, Sir: I know 'em well enough. [_Exit_.
_Un_. So, so; here's Sir _Richard_.
_Enter Sir Richrd Huntlove, his Ladie and Mistresse Dorothy_.
_Sir Rich_. Me thinkes you looke more sprightly since you were made a
Captaine.
_Un_. Oh, good Sir _Richard_, indeed my face is the worst part about mee;
and yet it will serve at the Muster.
_Do_. Serve! With reverence to the title, I have seene a Generall with a
worse Countenance. It is a good leading face, and though you have no cut
ore the nose or other visible scarre, which I doubt not but you may
receave all in good tyme, it is a quarrelling face and fitt for a man of
warre.
_Un_. I thanke you, sweet mistress _Dorothy_: I will commend you as much
when you are in the Countrey.--But doe you resolve to goe downe this
morning, Sir?
_Sir Rich_. By all meanes: is your sister readie? bid the Coachman make
hast, and have a care you leave none of your trinketts behind: after a
little dialogue with my scrivenour Ile returne, and then to Coach.
_Lady_. But why this expedition, this posting out of towne as the Aire
were infected?
_Sir Rich_. The[222] truth is, my sweet Ladie, we have no Exchange in
the Country, no playes, no Masques, no Lord Maiors day, no gulls nor
gallifoists[223]. Not so many Ladies to visit and weare out my Coach
wheeles, no dainty Madams in Childbedd to set you a longing when you
come home to lie in with the same fashion'd Curtaines and hangings, such
curious silver Andirons, Cupbord of plate and pictures. You may goe to
Church in the Countrey without a new Satten gowne, and play at penny
gleeke[224] with a Justice of peaces wife and the parsons; show your
white hand with but one Diamond when you carve and not be asham'd to
weare your owne wedding ring with the old poesie. There are no Doctors
to make you sick wife; no legends of lies brought home by yong gallants
that fill my Dyning roome with fleas and new fashions, that will write
verses upon the handle of your fanne and comend the education of your
Monkey, which is so like their worships as they were all of one familie.
I have no humour to provokeing meates; I will downe and enter into a
Christian diett, Madam. There is sport in killing my owne partridge and
pheasant; my Trowtes will cost me less than your Lobsters and crayfish
drest with amber greece[225], and I may renew my acquaintance with
mutton and bold chines of beefe; entertaine my tenants, that would pay
for my housekeeping all the yeere and thanke my worship at Christmas,
over and above their rents, with Turkies and Beeves of supererogation.
You may guesse I have some reason to change the aire, wife, and so I
leave you to prepare your selfe: You have my purpose and may expect mee.
[_Exit_.
_Lady_. However he may pretend, and point at charge
Which makes his stay unpleasant, 'tis his Jelousie
That strikes him into wildnes and dislike
Of all things here: he does not use mee well.
--Where is my sister?
_Do_. In the Closet, Madam.
--I must waite upon my Ladie, sweete Captaine.
[_Exeunt Lady & Dorothy_.
_Un_. This Wench has a notable witt, if I have any Judgment: I doe not
thinke but shee's in love with me. If I thought shee were not given to
be with child I would examine her abilities; but these waiting women are
so fruitfull, when they have a good turne from a gentleman they have not
the vertue of concealment: touch a Chambermaide and take a Child,
--everything workes with their soluble bodies.
_Enter Monsir Device_.
_De_. Noble Mr. _Underwitt_!
_Un_. I know not whome you meane, sir: he that comands the family in
chiefe, hath been honor'd with a sword and "rise Sir _Richard_" (who is
but my father in lawe[226] to a[nd?] by a former wife): for Mr.
_Underwitt_, whome to salute you humbled your Cloth a gold Dublet, I ken
not the wight.
_De_. Doe not you know mee, noble Sir?
_Un_. Upon even tearmes I may call your name to memorie, but if you
understand not my addition[227] it is honourable to forgett the best
friend I have.
_De_. What's the mistry of this? Your addition? pray honour me to
know it.
_Un_. He that was Mr. _Underwit_ is made a Captaine; you may, if you
please, take notice of his title.
_De_. I beg your mercy, noble Captaine, and congratulate your addition
of honour. It was Ignorance which, I professe, made me salute you with a
wrong preface. Now, Capt., I shall bee proud to march under the ensigne
of your favour.
_Un_. Friend _Device_, how does thy body? I am thy vassall; servant is
for porters, watermen & lacquies, & is no witt neither. You preserve
your tropes and your elegancies? What fancies doe adorne to-day? If I
were a Constable I might apprehend you for suspition you had robd a
pedlar. Does this thatchd cottage head hold still in fashion? What paid
you for this dead mans hair? Where's your night rail[228]? The last time
I saw you was in _Fleetstreet_, when at Complement and bare to an other
gentleman. I tooke him for a Barber and I thought you by the wide lynnen
about your neck [to] have been under correction in the suds[229], sir.
_De_. Wee are govern'd by the Mode, as waters by the Moone; but there
are more changes in th'one than t'other. But does your Comand extend
to the Sea or the land service?
_Un_. I never see the Sea in my life, sir, nor intend it.
_De_. You are not the first Captaine that has seene no service: 'tis
time lost to travell for't when a man may bee a Comander at home. I
never traveld myselfe.
_Un_. No, Sir?
_De_. And yet I understand garbes, from the elevation of your pole to
the most humble galosh.
_Un_. Can your hanches play well in these close cut breeches? they want
but a pummell to distinguish 'em from Trouses[230].
_De_. O sir, there is a perfect geometry in these breeches; you doe not
observe the morality of your fancie, nor the gentile play and poize of
your Lemon, Orange or Melon: this is gentry. Why, I understand all the
curiosities of the Mode to a Mathematicall point, and yet I never
travaild in all my life for't.
_Un_. These are extraordinary parts. Alas, a Captaine has but fifty or a
hundred at most to looke after, and all they have not so much witt as
your _French_ Lacquey. And what need any travaile to instruct them? I
can teach them their motions by word of mouth: when they come to fight,
my Countrymen will retreate naturally.
_Enter Ladie and her Sister_.
_Lady_. Now in revenge could I bee rich, but that
I would not be a prisoner to my Chamber.
These superstitions will make women doe
Strange things sometymes.
_Sis_. Of whome doe you thinke he should be jealous, sister?
_Lady_. Of Duke _Eneas_ in the hanging.
_Sis_. I hope he has no suspition of my servants,
That, under the pretence of formall Courtship
To mee, should ayme at his dishonour: there's
One that would weare my livery.
_Lady_. _Device_?
Hang him, outside! no, my husband loves
His folly and would have him the state foole,
His garbes are so ridiculous.
_Sis_. What opinion
(Still with a confidence of your cleere thoughts)
Holdes he of the Knight Sir _Francis Courtwell_,
That often visits us?
_Lady_. Sure a Noble one,
If I may aske my Innocence; yet I find
Him very amorous. O my husband loves him;
He is a powerfull man at Court, whose friendship
Is worth preserving. Sister, I confesse
His nobleness and person hath prevaild
With mee to give him still the freest welcome
My modestie and honor would permitt;
But if I thought my husband had a scruple
His visits were not honourable, I
Should soone declare how much I wish his absence.
_Un_. Your Mistresse and my Lady; I have some
Affaires require despatch, ile leave you to 'em. [_Exit_.
_Sis_. My witty servant!
_Lady_. Most pretious Alamode, Monsir _Device_!
_De_. I blesse my lipps with your white handes.
_Lady_. You come to take your leave as knowing by instinct wee have but
halfe an hour to stay.
_Sis_. Wee are for the Countrey as fast as your _Flanders_ mares will
trott, sir.
_De_. That's a Solecisme till the Court remove;--are you afraid of the
small pox?
_Sis_. The less the better for a gentlewoman.
_De_. And the greater more genty for a Cavallier. By this glove (a
pretty embroidery is't not?) you must not deprive us so soone of your
sweet presence. Why, there's a Ball to night in the _Strand_ and
tomorrow I had a purpose to waite upon you to the pictures; I ha'
bespoke regalias[231] there, too. There will be a new play shortly,
a pretty Comedy written by a profest Scholler: he scornes to take
money[232] for his witt, as the Poetts doe.
_Lady_. He is Charitable to the Actors.
_Sis_. It may be their repentance enough to play it.
_De_. You must needs stay and give your opinion.
What will become of me when you are gon, Ladie?
_Lady_. If your devotion catch not cold you may breath your _Barbary_
and visit us, where you may be confident of your welcome.
_De_. I dare as soone doubt I was Christned. But pray let us visit the
Exchange and take a trifle to weare for my sake before you goe. What
say, Madam? my owne Coach is at dore, the lyning is very rich and the
horses are very well matcht.
_Lady_. Alas, wee expect upon my husbands returne to take Coach
imediatlie.
_Sis_. But if wee see you in the Countrey you will doe us an honour?
_De_. You invite me to my happines. I can play well o' the kittar; I
thinke your musique is but course there; wee'le have a Countrey dance
after supper and a song. I can talke loud to a Theorbo[233], too, and
thats cald singing. Now, yee shall heare my Ballet.
_Sis_. Did you make a Ballet?
_De_. Oh I, the greatest wit lies that way now; a pittifull Complaint of
the Ladies when they were banish'd the Towne[234] with their husbands to
their Countrey houses, compeld to change the deere delight of Maske and
Revells here for Wassail and windie bagpipes; instead of Silken Fairies
tripping in the Banquetting Roome, to see the Clownes sell fish in the
hall and ride the wild mare, and such Olimpicks, till the ploughman
breake his Crupper, at which the Villagers and plumporidge men boile
over while the Dairy maid laments the defect of his Chine and he, poore
man, disabled for the trick, endeavours to stifle the noise and company
with perfume of sweat instead of Rose water.
_Lady_. This must be our Countrey recreation, too!
_Enter Sir Francis Courtwell_.
_De_. Who is this?
_Lady_. 'Tis Sir _Francis Courtwell_;
You cannot choose but know him.--This must bee
A favour, Sir, to visit us at parting.
_Sir Fr_. I came with other expectation, Madam,
Then to heare this: I could receave no newes
So unwelcome. What misfortune doth conclude
The Towne so unhappie?
_Lady_. 'Tis my husbands pleasure,
Affrighted with some Dreame he had last night;
For I can guess no other cause.
_Sir Fr_. Could hee
Bee capable of fright and you so neere him?
_De_. He cannot choose but know me then.--Sir, I kisse your noble hand
and shall be stellified in your knowledge.
_Sir Fr_. What thing's this that looks so like a race Nagg trick'd with
ribbands?
_Sis_. He is one of my inamoratos, Sir;
They call him Mounsir _Device_.
_Sir Fr_. Lady, your faire excuse.--He has, it seemes,
Some confidence to prevaile upon your liking
That he hath bought so many Bride laces.
_Sis_. You may interpret him a walking mirth.
_Sir Fr_. He moves upon some skrues and may be kinsman
To the engine that is drawne about with Cakebread,
But that his outside's brighter.
_De_. Sir _Francis Courtwell_.
_Sir Fr_. That's my name, Sir.
_De_. And myne Mounsieur _Device_.
_Sir Fr_. A _Frenchman_ Sir?
_De_. No, sir; an _English_ Monsier made up by a _Scotch_ taylor that
was prentice in _France_. I shall write my greatest ambition satisfied
if you please to lay your Comands upon mee.
_Sir Fr_. Sweet lady, I beseech you mussell your beagle; I dare not
trust my selfe with his folly, and he may deserve more beating then I am
willing to bestow at this tyme.
_Sis_. Take truce a little, servant.
_Sir Fr_. Will you consider, Madam, yet how much
A wounded hart may suffer?
_Lady_. Still the old businesse;
Indeede you make me blush, but I forgive you
If you will promise to sollicite this
Unwelcome cause no more.
_Sir Fr_. 'Tis my desire;
I take no pleasure in a pilgrimage.
If you instruct a nearer way, 'tis in
Your will to save your eare the trouble of
My pleading, Madam, if with one soft breath
You say I'me entertain'd; but for one smile
That speakes consent you'le make my life your servant.
_Lady_. My husband, Sir--
_Sir Fr_. Deserves not such a treasure to himselfe
And starve a noble servant.
_Lady_. You but pleade
For vanitie: desist, for if I could
(Forgetting honour and my modestie)
Allow your wild desires, it were impossible
That wee should meete more then in thought and shadowes.
_Sir Fr_. If these shadowes, Madam, be but darke enough,
I shall account it happines to meet you.
But referr that to opportunitie,
Which our kind starrs in pitty will sooner offer
To both our ioyes.
_Lady_. But he is very Jealous.
_Sir Fr_. That word assures my victorie; I never
Heard any wife accuse her husband of
Or cold neglect or Jealousie, but she had
A confirm'd thought within to trick his forehead--
It is but Justice, Madam, to reward him
For his suspitious thoughts.
_Lady_. D'ee thinke it fitt
To punish his suspition yet perswade
To act the sinne he feares?
_Sir Fr_. Custome and nature make it less offence
In women to comitt the deed of pleasure
Then men to doubt their chastity; this flowing
From poison'd natures, that excus'd by fraielty.
Yet I have heard the way to cure the scare
Has bin the deed; at truth the scruples vanish.
I speake not, Madam, with a thought to suffer
A foule breath whisper your white name; for he
That dares traduce it must beleeve me dead,
Or my fame twisted with your honour must not
Have pitty on the Accusers blood.
_Device_. I will attend you in the Countrey;
I take my leave and kiss your ivory hand;
Madam, and yours. Sir _Francis_, your obliged.
[_Exit_.
_Sir Fr_. You bless me with this promise.
--How can you, lady, suffer this impertinent
Afflict you thus?
[_Ex. Lad_.
_Sis_. Alas, my parrat's dead and he supplies the prattle: ith' spring
and fall he will save me charge of phisick in purgeing Melancholy.
_Sir Fr_. If you dare
Accept a servant, Ladie, upon my
Comends, I should present a kinsman t'ee
Who sha'not want a fortune nor, I hope,
A meritt to possesse your faire opinion.
_Sis_. You doe not say he is hansome all this while, and that's a maine
consideration. I wod not have a man so tall as a Mast, that I must clyme
the shroudes to kisse him, nor so much a dwarfe that I must use a
multiplying glass to know the proportion of his limbes. A great man is a
great house with too much garret and his head full of nothing but
lumber: if he be too round agen hees only fitt to be hung upp in a
Christall glasse. The truth is the man I love must please me at first
sight; if he take my eye I may take more tyme to examine his talent.
_Sir Fr_. Do you but grace him with accesse and aske your owne fancie,
Ladie, how you can affect him. Ile not despaire if he were cur'd of
modesty, which is the whole fault in his behaviour; but he may passe
without contempt.
_Do_. That modestie is a foule fault.
_Enter Captaine Underwitt_.
_Un_. Come away, Cosen; Sir _Richard's_ come and calls for you; the
Coachman is ready to mount. Noble Sir _Richard_, because you may not
loose breath, you may call me a Captaine, please you, a Captaine o' the
train'd band.
_Sis_. 'Tis very certaine.
_Sir Fr_. I congratulate your title, Sir.
_Un_. If you come into the Countrey you shall see me doe as much with my
leading staff as another.
_Sir Fr_. You wonot thrash your men?
_Un_. If I did 'tis not the first time I ha thrash'd. If I find my
Souldiers tractable they shall find me but a reasonable Captaine.
_Enter Sir Richard [and] Lady_.
_Sir Rich_. Sir _Francis_, I am sorrie the violence of my affaires wonot
let me entertaine you to my wishes. Pray honour us with your presence in
the Countrey, if you can dispence with your employments, when I shall
satisfie for this haste of my departure.
_Sir Fr_. I shall attend you, Sir, and present a kinsman of mine to this
virgin Ladie: he is like to be Master of no narrow fortune. It was my
busines at this tyme only to prepare his accesse.
_Sir Rich_. He shall have my vote for your sake, Sir _Francis_. Come,
Madam.
_Sir Fr_. Ile waite upon you to the Coach and take my leave.
_Un_. Sweet Mistresse _Doritye_.
[_Exeunt_.
_Act the Second_.
_Enter Captaine Sackburie, reading a Letter, and Thomas_.
_Capt_. Hum--hum--Where's the gold?
_Tho_. Here, Sir; one, two, three, fowre, and five.
_Cap_. Thou hast learnd the Cinque pace[235], _Tho_: is the gold weight?
_Tho_. I hope so, Sir.
_Cap_. Hum--into the Country;--thou hast a horse, too?
_Tho_. Not about me, Sir, but he is ready, all but brideling and
sadling, at our Inne, Captaine. My master sayes you shalbe troubled with
no horse but his.
_Cap_. Why, is he lame?
_Tho_. What? _Truehunt_, the black nag with three white feete? he lame?
You meane that I ride upon my selfe.
_Cap_. Hum,--'make hast as you will preserve the reputation of your true
friend and servant:'--so, so--Comend me to him, _Thomas_; I wonot faile
to visit him.
_Tho_. You may demand the Nag, if you ask for _Humfrey_ the Ostler, by
the same token he has bin there this foure dayes and had but one peck of
provender.
_Cap_. Enough I wonot faile, I say. Farewell, honest _Tom a
Lincolne_, farewell: comend me to the traind band.
_Tho_. Pray doe not fall a drinking and forgett it: bu'oy[236], noble
Captaine.
[_Exit_.
_Enter Mr. Courtwell_.
_Cap_. My expectation of the Lawz well mett!
_Cou_. I am glad to see you, Captaine.
_Cap_. Is thy sight perfect?
Thy poring upon statutes and booke cases
Makes me suspecte. But dost thou thinke to bee
A Dominus factotum on the Bench,
And be a Civill Lawyer?
_Cou_. You are merry.
_Cap_. Tis more then thou hast been this twelvemonth: th'ast
Lost thy Complexion with too much study.
Why, thou shalt be an heire and rule the rost
Of halfe a shire, and thy father would but Dye once;
Come to the Sizes with a band of Janisaries
To equall the Grand Signor, all thy tenants,
That shall at their owne charge make themselves fine
And march like Cavaliers with tilting feathers,
Gaudy as _Agamemnons_[237] in the play:
After whome thou, like _St. George_ a horseback
Or the high Sheriff, shall make the Cuntrey people
Fall downe in adoration of thy Crooper
And silver stirrup, my right worshipfull.
A pox a buckram and the baggage in't!
Papers defil'd with Court hand and long dashes,
Or Secretarie lines that stradle more
Then _Frenchmen_ and lesse wholsome to the Client.
Is thy head to be fild with Proclamations,
Rejoynders and hard words beyond the _Alchemist_[238]?
Be ruld, and live like a fine gentleman
That may have haukes and hounds and whores and horses,
And then thou art fitt Companie.
_Cou_. You talke wildlie;
I wou'd you saw your Errour that place all
Your happinesse upon such course delights.
I should degenerate too much and forfet
My education.
_Cap_. Education! he has gott a tune:
I doe not thinke but thou wilt leave thy law
And exercise thy talent in composeing
Some treatises against long haire and drinking
That most unchristian weed yclipt tobacco;
Preach to the puisnes[239] of the Inne sobrietie,
And abstinence from shaveing of lewd Baylies
That will come shortlie to your Chamber doores
And there with reverence entreat your worships
Come forth and be arrested,--precious tappoles!
I wo'd not willingly despaire of thee,
For thy Lands sake and cause I am thy Countreyman.
One generous Vagarie, and thou wer't wise,
Would breake somebodies hart within a sennight,
And then th'art Lord of all. Have but the grace
To dine wo' mee at taverne and ile tell
Thy friends there is some hope.
_Cou_. My friends?
_Cap_. Thy father's
In _Essex_: if he live heele purchase _Romford_;
If he die sooner then the towne's our owne;
Spend but an acre a day and thou maist live
Till all the world be wearie of thee. Betweene
Us two, what thincke you of a wench?
_Cou_. Nothing.
_Cap_. You meane one wench betweene us two is nothing.
I know a hundred Leverets[240], things that will
Bound like a dancer on the rope and kiss thee
Into thy naturall complexion:
A sinner that shall clime thee like a squirrell.
_Cou_. And crack me like a Nutt. I ha no kernell
To spare for her sweet tooth.
_Cap_. That was a metaphor: hee's not desperate!
_Cou_. Buoy, my deere Captaine.
_Cap_. Wy, farewell, Countreyman:
I may live yet to witnes thy conversion. [_Exit_.
_Enter a Footeman_.
_Cou_. How does my uncle?
_Fo_. He desires presentlie
To speake with you at his lodging.
_Cou_. Ile attend him.
[_Exit_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Captaine Underwit and Thomas_.
_Un_. And hast thou been carefull of all those things I gave charge
to be provided?
_Tho_. There is a note of the particulars.
_Un_. Tis very well done, _Thomas_.--Let me see: Imprimis--
_Tho_. The Captaine wonot faile to be w'ee, sir. He was not at his
lodging; and inquiring at the _Horne_ tavern, I heard he had been there
with two or three Cittizens that ow'd him mony.
_Un_. That he owde mony to.
_Tho_. Tis all one, I thinke, Sir; for when Captaines have not pay, the
creditors may pay themselves. Here they said he did mollifie the hart of
the haberdashers and dranke himselfe a little mellowe ere they parted,
which gave me some hope I might find him ere night at the _Divell_,
where indeed I fetcht him out of the fire and gave him your Letter.
_Un_. And the gold too?
_Tho_. That was the first word he read; if you did not write it in text
he could not have found it out so soone. His eye was no sooner in the
inside but his arme flew out with an open mouth and his very fingers
cryed "give me the gold"! which presumeing to be weight he put in his
hocas pocas, a little dormer under his right skirt; and so takeing his
word to come downe and turning over your horse to him, with caution not
to be drunk and forgett your worship, I tooke my leave and went about
my Inventorie.
_Un_. Theis things are very right, _Thomas_. Let me see now the bookes
of Martiall discipline.
_Tho_. I bought up all that I found have relation to warr and fighting.
_Un_. That was weldone.--Item: _The Sword Salve_.
_Tho_. This I conceiv'd to have the vertue of _Achilles_ speare: if you
bee hurt you need goe no further then the blade for a Surgeon.
_Un_. The _Buckler of Faith_.
_Tho_. You had the sword before, Sir.
_Un_. A _Booke of Mortification_.
_Tho_. I, Sir, that is a kind of killing which I thought very necessary
for a Captaine.
_Un_. Item: the _Gunpowder Treason_ and the _Booke of Cannons_.
_Tho_. I wod not lett any shott scape mee.
_Un_. _Shakespeares_ Workes.--Why _Shakespeares_ Workes?
_Tho_. I had nothing for the pikemen before.
_Un_. They are plays.
_Tho_. Are not all your musterings in the Countrey so, Sir? Pray,
read on.
_Un_. _Bellarmines Controversie_ in six tomes.
_Tho_. That I took upon the Stationers word, who had been a pretty
Schollar at Paules; for the word _Bellarmine_, he said, did comprehend
warr, weapons and words of defiance. Ill words provoke men to draw their
sword, and fighting makes an end of the busines; and all this is
controversy. Pray, goe on, Sir.
_Un_. Two paire of Tables.--Tables for what?
_Tho_. Oh, sir, for ticktack. You know it was in my note, which though I
doubted at first, yet considering you were newly made a Cap: I conceiv'd
it was fitt you should learne to sett and or[d]er your men.
_Un_. Tacticks, man: thou didst mistake, they are bookes of warre.
_Tho_. You cannot know these from bookes as they are painted,
I warrant you.
_Un_. Why, dost thou thinke theis will make a Souldier?
_Tho_. Not of themselves, Sir, and therefore I provided: please you
read on, Sir.
_Un_. _Parsons Resolutions_ and _Felthams Resolves_[241].
_Tho_. All is nothing I knew, Sir, without resolution.
_Un_. Summa totalis three and twenty poundes nyneteene shillings and
sevenpence.--Thou hast undone mee.
_Tho_. If you doe not like the pennyworths tis but the charges of my
selfe and a horse agen to _London_. I will lose but the three odd pounds
19s and 7d: it may be you doe not understand these Authors: when the
Captaine comes he will expound 'em to you.
_Un_. What a Coxcombe have I to my man! but I dare not be angry with
him. Well, carry 'em into my study, _Thomas_.
[_Ext. Tho_.
_Enter Device_.
_De_. Most honor'd Captaine.
_Un_. My compleat Monsier _Device_, this is a grace to us. You come to
visit your Mistres my Cosen. As if by instinct she had knowledge of your
[_Enter Ladie and Sister, & Dorothy_.
approach, she is come to meet you.--Shall I never get opportunitie with
that shee waiter! If I gett her with Child my man _Thomas_ shall marry
her.
_Enter Thomas_.
_Tho_. Sir, the Captaine is new alighted.
_Un_. Gett a bottle of sack up to my Chamber presently.
[_Ext. [Underwit & Thomas_.
_La_. You are a gentleman of your word.
_Sis_. And such a gentleman is to be trusted, Madam.
_De_. He is an Infidell that will breake his word with a Ladie.
_Sis_. I suspect, servant, you have many Mistresses.
_De_. Not I, by this white hand. I must acknowledge there are some
Ladies in the Court in whose eyes and opinion I am favour'd. I cannot
obscure my selfe from their observation; but my heart with contempt of
all other endeerement is only devoted to your service.
_Sis_. Is't not a charge to dresse your selfe with such variety of
Ribbands every day?
_De_. Is that your scruple? Tis the Mode to express our fancie upon
every occasion; to shew the turne and present state of our hope or
feares in our Affection. Your colours to an understanding Lover carry
the interpretation of the hart as plainely as wee express our meaning
one to another in Characters. Shall I decipher my Colours to you now?
Here is Azure and Peach: Azure is constant, and Peach is love; which
signifies my constant Affection.
_Sis_. This is very pretty.
_De_. Oh, it saves the trouble of writing, where the Mistres and Servant
are learned in this amorous blazon. Yesterday I wore Folimort, Grisdelin
and Isabella: Folimort is withered, Grisdelin is absent, and Isabella is
beauty, which put together express I did wither or languish for your
absent beautie.
_Sis_. But is there any reason for theis distinctions?
_De_. Yes, Lady: for example, your Follimort is a withred leafe, which
doth moralise a decay: your yellow is joy, because--
_La_. Why, yellow, Sir, is Jealous.
_De_. No, your Lemon colour, a pale kind of yellow, is Jealous; your
yellow is perfect joy. Your white is Death, your milke white inocence,
your black mourning, your orange spitefull, your flesh colour
lascivious, your maides blush envied, your red is defiance, your gold is
avaritious, your straw plenty, your greene hope, your sea greene
inconstant, your violet religious, your willow forsaken.
_Sis_. We may then comitt a solecisme and be strangely interpreted by
such curious expounders in the rash election and wearing of our colours,
I p[er]ceave.
_La_. Tis pitty but there should be some bookes for our instruction in
this art.
_De_. Your Hierogliphick was the _Egiptian_ wisdome, your _Hebrew_ was
the Cabala, your _Roman_ had your Simball or impresse; but they are now
obsolete, your embleme trite and conspicuous, your invention of
Character and Alphabeticall key tedious and not delightfull, your motto
or rebus too open and demonstrative: but the science and curiosity of
your Colours in Ribbands is not only instructive but an ornament and the
nearest Comentator of Love; for as Love is entertain'd first by the eye,
or, to speake more plaine, as the object affected is tooke in first by
these opticks which receive the species of the thing colord &
beautifide, so it is answerable to nature that in the progresse of our
passion we should distinguish by our eye the change or constancy of our
affections in apt and significant colours.
_Sis. _You have tooke paines to study this learn'd heraldry.
_De_. It is the onely gentile knowledge or philosophie in the world. I
will undertake to open any man or womans hart.
_La_. Heaven forbid!
_De_. Tell the most secret imaginations and designes conclude every
passion and scruple, if they be carefull to observe the artificiall
method of their colours.
_Sis_. Why, this may be a way of fortune telling too.
_De_. You say right, Lady: phisiognomy and chiromancy are but trifles;
nay, your geomancie meere coniecturall, the execution of your schemes
circumstantiall and fallible, but your quaint alamode weare of your
fancie more then astrologicall.
_La_. Tis a kind of Divinitie.
_De_. You say very true, Madam, and comes neere to propheticall if the
minds of Ladies and gentlemen were elevated to the just and sublime
consideration.
_Sis_. What paines he takes to be ridiculous!
_Do_. This gentleman has a notable fancie and talkes poetically.
_Sis_. Yes, yes; he can write verses.
_Do_. Well, I have read Authors in my dayes and knew the length of the
poets in my tyme too, which was an hexameter and which a pentameter, but
the wits are not as they have been--right and straite.
_Sis_. Why, _Doroty_?
_Do_. Why, because wind is the cause of many things; now if the wind bee
not in the right corner tis the ill wind our proverbe speakes of that
blowes nobodie good; for when vapors and wind flie into the head it
cannot be in two places at one time: and that's the reason your men of
most wit doe seldome love a woman.--But here comes my Master and Sir
_Francis_.
_Enter Sir Richard and Sir Francis, and Mr. Courtwell_.
_Ri_. This is a double honour to us, _Sir Francis_. I shall want
language, but not a friendly hart to entertaine you and your noble
kinsman. What my exquisite Cavalier _Device_!--tis to no purpose I see
to remove into the Countrey to save charges and be quiet; the whole
Citty will come hither if I stay. I have no stomack to my kn't.
_Fra_. I hope, madam, you will be no enemy to my kinsman.
_Ri_. Sister, I present this gentleman; observe and cherish him; he has
been i'th Universitie.
_Sis_. Any degree, Sir?
_Co_. Onely Bachelour, forsooth!
_Ri_. If he winne you to marriage, Lady quicksilver--
_Sis_. He wilbe Master of his Art.
_Ri_. My vote is for him.
_De_.--I like not the induction of this rivall.
_Ri_. He studies now the law,
And thats the high way to preferment, Sister.
_Sis_. Indeed it is the high way in which some
Deliver up their purses. He may clime
To scarlet, but that he has too good a face.
_De_. Sir, I hope--
_Ri_. Troth, do not, Sir,--I meane, trouble yourselfe:
He is too bashfull to prevaile upon
Your spirited mistres!
_Enter Mr. Engine_.
_En_. Sir _Richard_.
_Ri_. More customers? Mr. _Engine_, welcome;
Your presence was unexpected in the Countrey.
_En_. Twas my ambition with some intents
To serve you, sir. Please you vouchsafe your privacie,
I bring Affaires are worth your entertainement:
I have rid hard.
_Cou_. What Cavallier's this, Uncle?
_Fra_. He is the inventor of new proiects, cosen,
They say, and patents; one that lives like a moth
Upon the Common wealth.
_Cou_. He lookes like one.
_Ric_. You will excuse me, gentlemen.--Make much of Sir _Francis_, Madam.
_Ext. [Sir Richard and Engine_.
_Fra_. Weele leave my Nephew and your sister, Madam,
And take a turne i'th garden.
_Sis_. You may be confident.
[_Exeunt Sir Francis, Lady, and Dorothy_.
_De_.--I doe not like the fancie in his hat;
That gules is warre and will be ominous.
_Ext. [Device_.
_Sis_. The gentleman's turnd statue! blesse me how
He staires upon me and takes roote, I thinke.
It mooves, and now to earth is fixt agen;
Oh, now it walkes and sadly marches this way.
Is't not a ghost? heele fright me. Oh, sweet sir,
Speake if you can and say who murderd you.
It points at me: my eyes? ungentle eyes
To kill so at first sight! Ile have my lookes
Arraigned for't and small _Cupid_ shall be judg,
Who for your sake will make me blind as he is.
_Co_. Ladie--
_Sis_. The man's alive agen and has
A tongue! discretion guide it; he but sent
His soule forth of an arrand; tis returnd,
Now wee shall have some sentences.
_Co_. Such are the strange varieties in love,
Such heates, such desperate coldes,--
_Sis_. No more winter, and you love me, unlesse you can command the
colepits; we have had a hard tyme on't already for want of fuell.
_Co_. I'me all turnd eares and, Lady, long to heare you,
But pressing to you doubt I am too neare you.
Then I would speake, but cannot; nought affordes
Expression, th'Alphabet's too poore for wordes:
He that knowes Love knowes well that every hower
Love's glad, Love's sad, Love's sweet--
_Sis_. And sometymes sower. Theis wordes would goe well to a tune; pray
letts heare you sing. I doe not thinke but you can make me a ioynture of
fower nobles a yeare in Balletts, in lamentable balletts; for your wit I
thinke lies tragicall. Did you make the _Ladies Downefall_[242].
You expresse a passion rarely, but pray leave
Your couplets and say something in blanck verse
Before you goe.
_Co_. Before I goe? breath not that killing language:
There is no sunne but in your eyes, and when
I once take leave of those celestiall beames
I meet with darkenes in my habitation;
Where stretch'd on sable ground I downe shall lay
My mournefull body, and with folded Armes
Heare sadder noats uppon the _Irish_ harpe[243]
And drop division with my brinish teares.[244]
_Sis_. This must be lamentable musick sure!
_Co_. But I have found an art to cure this wound,
For I with fancies pencill will so draw
Your picture in the table of my hart,
Your absence shall but like darke shadowes stand
To sett you of and see you, Lady, better
Then Love will lett me when I looke upon you.
_Sis_. Could this be true and meant, sweet sir, to me,
I should be kinder then the gentlest spring
That warms the world and makes fierce beasts so tame
And trees to swell themselves to cheerefull greene;
More jocund then the proudest quire of birds,
What ere they be that in the woods so wide
Doe sing their merry catches.--Sure he does
But counterfeit.
_Co_. Oh, now I see that Love
Is sweet as flowers in their fragrant birth,
Gentle as silke, and kind as Cloudes to Earth?
_Sis_. One rime more and you undoe my love for ever. Out upon't! pedlars
_French_[245] is a Christian language to this. I had rather you should
put me a case out of _Litleton_. They say you are a pretty Lawyer.
_Co_. Tenant[246] per la Curtesie d'Engleterre est, hon home prent feme
seisie in fee simple ou en fee taile generall, ou seisie come
heire de la taile speciall et ad issue per mesme la fame, male ou
female, oies ou wife, soit lissue apres mort ou en vie si la feme de
aie, la baron tiendra la terre durant sa vie, per la ley dengleterre.
_Sis_. Nay, here's enough a Conscience! What a Noise this confusion of
languages make; tis almost as good as a beare baiting. Harke you, Sir,
you are never like to recover me by law.
_Co_. You are not the first sweet Ladie has been overthrowne at
Common Lawe.
_Sis_. Not by tenn thousand, Sir. Confest: but I have no mind to come to
issue with a Lawyer; when he should consider my cause at home, heele be
at _Westminster_, teaching men the Statutes. No, no, I wo'not marry a
Judge.
_Co_. Why, Lady?
_Sis_. They are casuall things and men that hold such strange opinions.
_Co_. Lady, you may be misinform'd: _Astraea_
Hath not quite left the earth, and the abuses
Of some which shame the calling are but like
Patches of beauty on the shape of lawe
To set the whitenes of.
_Sis_. Farewell, Sir:
You are in love with a barrd gown, not beauty;
If you will be my learned Counsell, leave it
--This yong thing is a foole or a fine fellow. [_Exit_.
_Co_. She kicks and flings out like a Colt unwayed;
Her witt's a better portion then her money;
I would not love her yet, and I could help it.--
My Uncle and his Mistres: Ile not hinder em.
[_Ex_.
[SCENE 3.]
_Enter Sir Francis and Ladie_.
_La_. It is no honour, Sir, if arm'd with so
Much eloquence you overcome a woman.
I blush to say I love you now too much;
I wish you would release what your sweet charmes
Won from my tongue; I shall repent my promise.
_Fra_. Make me not miserable after so much blessing.
Why, Madam, tis on honourable tearmes,
Since not upon the first attempt but after
A tedious seige in to your faire love you give up
What shall enrich us both. It were a sinne
To feare you can retract what both our lipps
Have seal'd, and loose a happines so neare
And so secure. Your husband holds his pleasure
Of early hunting constant, and when he
Pursues the tymerous hare to morrow morne,
_Cupid_ will waite to bring me to _Elizium_,
Your bed, where every kisse shall new create us.
_La_. You must be wise in your excuse, to quit
His importunitie.
_Fra_. Leave that to me:
I weare not worth the name of him that serv'd you
To loose my glorious hope for want of such
A thinne device. In your thought wish me prosper,
And I am fortifide against the power
Of fate to seperate us; and when thou art
Within the amorous circle of my armes,
We will make lawes to love; teach him new motion
Or chaine[247] him with the cordage of his haire,
Like a tame thing, to walke, and watch our pillow
And be our pleasures Centinell.
_La_. I see
My husband; tis not safe he should observe us:
Be wise and constant. [_Exit Lady_.
_Fra_. All that's sweet attend thee.
So I am sailing now to my owne _Indies_,
And see the happie Coast, too: How my wings
Doe spread to catch the wind which comes to court 'em,
And the green Sea, enamour'd on my barke,
Doth leap to see how _Cupid_ sitts at helme.
And steeres my soule to his new world.
_Enter Sir Richard and Engine_.
_Ri_. A monopolie say you
For Perriwigs?
_En_. Is't not a rare designe? and by such art
And reasons I can name, most beneficiall
To the common wealth, preventing the diseases
Which some unwholsome haire breeds in mens heads,
It will be worth our agitation, Sir;
And you, after the rate of every thousand
Per Annum milk'd out of the comon purse
Into your owne, may easily defaulke
To me a hundred for my first projection.
Did I not love you, Sir, I could make choice
Of other able men that would be glad
To multiplie their money.
_Ri_. Sir, I thanke you,
But have no mind to thrive upon abuse of
My princes favour nor the peoples curse.
Here is a gentleman, Sir _Francis Courtwell_,
Perhapps will undertake it.
_Fra_. What, Sir _Richard_?