_Enter_ Iago _and_ Sforza, _seuerall_.
_Sfor._ Health to your Honour.
_Iag._ Noble _Sforza_, thankes.
_Sfor._ Haue you not heard the newes?
_Iag._ Of what, my Lord?
_Sfor._ _Lisandro_, and the Princesse.
_Iag._ Not as yet.
_Sfor._ Then I’le resolue you.
_Iag._ Pray you doe, my Lord.
_Sfor._ The Aduocates both vsed their vtmost skill,
To iustifie and quit the Sex they stood for,
With arguments, and reasons so profound
On eyther side, that it was hard to say,
Which way the scale of Iustice would incline.
_Iag._ I ioy to heare it; And to say the truth,
Both Sexes equally should beare the blame;
For both offend alike. But pray’ proceed.
_Sfor._ At length, the Aduocate that stood for vs,
Preuail’d so farre, with his forc’d Oratorie,
The Lord _Nicanor_ too, abetting him,
That maugre all the Amazonians wit,
Which was (indeed) beyond expression,
The sentence past against the female Sex;
And the poore Princesse is adiudg’d to death.
_Iag._ The Heauens forbid! The Princesse doom’d to die?
_Sfor._ Too true, my Lord: I heard the words pronounc’d.
_Iag._ A sentence most vniust, and tyrannous.
Where’s the Detractor?
_Sfor._ Crown’d with Victorie,
And intertain’d with Triumph.
_Iag._ That iust Heauen
Should suffer such an impious wretch to live!
I must goe looke the Princesse; when must she dye?
_Sfor._ To morrow’s Sun beholds a daughters fall.
_Iag._ A Sunne must rise to night, to dimme that Sunne,
From the beholding such a horrid deed.
’Twas cruell in a King, for such a fact;
But in a Father, it is tyrannie.
_Enter_ Misogynos.
_Sfor._ Forbeare, my Lord, the times are dangerous.
See! here’s the Champion.
_Iag._ Looke how the Slaue glories in his conquest,
How insolent he stalkes!
Shall we indure such saucie impudence?
_Sfor._ Put vp, put vp, my Lord,
He is not worth our indignation:
Let vs a-while obserue him for some sport.
_Enter_ Scanfardoe.
_Scan._ My noble Fencer, I congratulate
Your braue atchieuements in the last dayes triumph.
_Mis._ I thanke you, Scholler. Was’t not brauely done?
_Scanf._ Done like thy selfe: the spirits of _Mantua_
And old _Diogenes_ doubled in thee.
_Mis._ I thinke, I haue giuen
The Female reputation such a wound,
Will not be cured in haste.
_Enter two Gentlemen._
_Iag._ Ha, ha, ha, ha; Pernicious slaue.
_1. Gent._ Worthie _Misogynos_.
_2. Gent._ Noble Champion,
We doe applaud
Your merit, in the report
Of your late conquest.
_Mis._ Thanke you, Gentlemen
Truth will preuaile, you see.
I speake not for my selfe, in my owne quarrel;
But the generall good of all men in the world.
_1. Gent._ We know it, Sir.
_Iag._ Degenerate Monster, how he iustifies
His slandrous forgeries?
_Mis._ But, Gentlemen,
How goes the rumour?
What do’s the Multitude report of mee?
_1. Gent._ Oh Sir, the Men applaud you infinitely;
But the Women——
_Mis._ I respect not them:
Their curses are my prayers.
_Iag._ Oh damn’d Rogue!
_1. Gent._ If you’le be rul’d by me, go shew your selfe
Amongst them all in publique: O 'twill fret
Their very galls in pieces.
_Iag._ That was well.
Some body second that, and we shall see
Excellent pastime; for they’le ne’r indure
His sight with any patience.
_Scanf._ Doe i’faith
That they may see you haue conquer’d.
_Mis._ And I will.
But should they grow outragious—
_2. Gent._ Feare not that: we’le all along with ye.
_Mis._ Will you conduct me safe vnto my Schoole?
_Scan._ I, I, we’le be your Gard. _Exeunt._
_Sfor._ Oh what a Coward ’tis?
_Iag._ You doe him wrong:
He fights not with his hands, but with his tongue.
Why doe I trifle time? I’le to the Court;
This crueltie afflicts my very soule.
Good my Lord, ioyne with me; we’le to the King,
And see if wee can alter this decree.
Oh ’tis a royall Princesse, faire, and chaste!
_Sfor._ But her disdaine, my Lord, hath bin the cause
Of many hopefull Youths vntimely end;
’Tis that has harden’d both the Commons hearts,
And many a noble Peeres,
_Iag._ Why, what of that?
It is not fit affection should be forc’d:
Let’s kneele vnto his Grace for her release.
Iustice (like Lightning) euer should appeare
To few mens ruine, but to all mens feare. _Exit._
SCEN. II.
_Enter_ NICANOR, _and a Gentleman_.
_Nic._ The Princesse suffers then?
_Gent._ This Morning, Sir,
Vnlesse the mercie of the King be found
More then is yet expected.
_Nic._ Oh my heart,
Canst thou indure to heare that heauie sound,
And wilt not burst with griefe?
_Gent._ Nay, good my Lord:
_Nic._ Oh, worthie Sir, you did not know the ioyes
That we all lost in her. She was the hope,
And onely comfort of Sicilia;
And the last Branch was left of that faire stocke;
Which (if she dye) is wither’d, quite decay’d.
But I haue such a losse.
_Gent._ You haue indeed:
Yours is the greatest of a particular:
For you haue lost a beautious Spouse, my Lord;
And yet the rich hopes of a royall Crowne
Might mitigate your sorrow. You are next.
_Nic._ Doe not renew my griefe with naming that.
Oh that it were to morrow! happie day,
Bestow’d on some more meritorious,
That might continue long, for I am old.
I should be well content.
_Gent._ Say not so:
There’s no one merits that more then your selfe:
You are elected by the Kings owne house,
And generall consent of all the Realme,
For the Successour after his decease:
Whose life pray Heauen defend.
_Nic._ Amen, Amen,
And send him long to raigne; but not on earth.
Sir, you are neere the King; Pray, if you heare
His Highnesse aske for me, excuse me, Sir:
You see my sorrow’s such, I am vnfit
To come into the presence of a King.
_Gent._ I see it, Sir, and will report as much.
_Nic._ You will report a lye then; ha, ha, ha.
My Lungs will not afford me wind enough
To laugh my passions out. To gaine a Crowne,
Who would not at a funerall laugh and sing?
All men of wisedome would, and so will I:
Yet to the worlds eye, I am drown’d in teares,
And held most carefull of the King and State,
When I meane nothing lesse. _Lorenzo’s_ dead:
The scornefull Princesse, that refus’d my loue,
Is going to her death. The King, I know,
Cannot continue long: Then may I say,
As our Italian heires at fathers deaths,
_Quid Iude, Reine ta soll_.
The King alone made mee the King:
Me thinkes I feele the royall Diadem
Vpon my head already; ha, ha, ha. _Exit._
_A dumbe shew._
_Enter two Mourners_, Atlanta _with the Axe_, Leonida _all in white,
her haire loose, hung with ribans; supported on eyther side by two
Ladies_, Aurelia _following as chiefe Mourner. Pase softly ouer the
stage._
_A Song in parts._
_Whilst wee sing the dolefull knell
Of this Princesse passing-bell,
Let the Woods and Valleys ring
Ecchoes to our sorrowing;
And the Tenor of their Song,
Be ding dong, ding, dong, dong,
ding, dong, dong,
ding, dong._
_Nature now shall boast no more,
Of the riches of her Store,
Since in this her chiefest prize,
All the Stocke of beautie dies;
Then, what cruell heart can long
Forbeare to sing this sad ding dong?
This sad ding dong,
ding dong._
_Fawnes and Siluans of the Woods,
Nimphes that haunt the Cristall flouds,
Sauage Beasts more milder then
The vnrelenting hearts of men,
Be partakers of our mone,
And with vs sing ding dong, ding dong,
ding dong, dong,
ding dong._
_Exeunt Omnes._
_Enter_ Misogynos, _and_ Swash.
_Mis._ _Swash._
_Swa._ At your Buckler, Sir?
_Mis._ Perceiu’st thou nothing, _Swash_?
_Swa._ How meane you, Sir?
_Mis._ No strange signe of alteration; hum.
_Swa._ Beyond imagination.
_Mis._ How, good _Swash_?
_Swa._ Why, from a Fencer, you’re turn’d Orator.
_Mis._ Oh! _Cedunt arma Togæ_; that’s no wonder.
Perceiu’st thou nothing else? Looke I not pale?
Are not my armes infolded? my eyes fixt,
My head deiected, my words passionate,
And yet perceiu’st thou nothing?
_Swash._ Let me see, me thinkes, you looke Sir, like some
Desperate Gamester, that had lost all his estate
In a dicing House: you met not
With those Money-changers, did you?
Or haue you falne amongst the female Sex,
And they haue paid you for your last dayes worke?
_Mis._ No, no, thou art as wide, as short in my disease:
Thou neuer canst imagine what it is,
Vnlesse, I tell thee. _Swash_, I am in loue.
_Swash._ Ha, ha, ha, in loue?
_Mis._ Nay, ’tis such a wonder, _Swash_, I scarce beleeue,
It can be so, my selfe, and yet it is.
_Swash._ The Deuill it is as soone, and sooner too:
You loue the Deuill, better then a woman.
_Mis._ Oh, doe not say so, _Swash_, I doe recant.
_Swash._ In loue? not possible:
This is some tempting Syren has bewitcht you.
_Mis._ Oh! peace, good _Swash_.
_Swash._ Some Cockatrice, the very Curse of man?
_Mis._ No more, if thou dost loue me.
_Swash._ Your owne words.
I know not how to please you better, Sir.
Will you from Oratour, turne Heretike,
And sinne against your owne Conscience?
_Mis._ Oh, _Swash, Swash_!
_Cupid_, the little Fencer playd his Prize,
At seuerall weapons in _Atlanta’s_ eyes,
He challeng’d me, we met and both did try
His vtmost skill, to get the Victorie.
Lookes were oppos’d ’gainst lookes, and stead of words,
Were banded frowne ’gainst frowne, and words ’gainst words
But cunning _Cupid_ forecast me to recoile:
For when he plaid at sharpe, I had the foyle.
_Swash._ Nay, now he is in loue, I see it plaine:
I was inspir’d with this Poeticall vaine,
When I fell first in loue: God bo’y yee, Sir:
I must goe looke another Master.
_Mis._ _Swash._
_Swash._ Y’are a dead man: beleeue it, Sir,
I would not giue two-pence for a Lease
Of a hundred pound a yeere made for your life.
Can you that haue bin at defiance with vm all,
Abused, arraigned vm, hang’d vm, if you could:
You hang’d vm more then halfe, you tooke away
All their good names, I’me sure, can you then hope,
That any will loue you? A Ladie, Sir,
Will sooner meet a Tinker in the street,
And try what Metall lyes within his Budget,
A Countesse lye with me, an Emperour
Take a poore Milke-maide, Sir, to be his Wife,
Before a Kitchen-Wench will fancie you.
_Mis._ Doe not torment me, misbeleeuing Dolt,
I tell thee, I doe loue, and must enioy.
_Swash._ Who, in the name of women, should this bee?
_Mis._ What an obtuse Conception do’st thou beare?
Did not I tell thee, ’twas _Atlanta, Swash_?
_Swash._ Who, she Amazonian Dame, your Aduocate,
A Masculine Feminine?
_Mis._ I, _Swash_,
She must be more then Female, has the power
To mollifie the temper of my Loue.
_Swash._ Why, she’s the greatest enemie you haue.
_Mis._ The greater is my glorie, _Swash_, in that
That hauing vanquisht all, I attaine her.
The Prize consists alone
In my eternall credit and renowne.
Oh, what a Race of wittie Oratours
Shall we beget betwixt vs: Come, good _Swash_,
Ile write a Letter to her presently,
Which thou shalt carry: if thou speedst, I sweare,
Thou shalt be _Swetnams_ Heire.
_Swash._ The Deuill I feare,
Will dispossesse me of that Heritage.
_Enter two Gentlemen._
_1. Gent._ But are you sure she is beheaded, Sir?
_2. Gent._ Most certaine, Sir, both by the Kings Decree,
And generall voyce of all, for instance see.
_1. Gent._ The wofull’st sight.
That ere mine eyes beheld.
_2. Gent._ A sight of griefe and horrour.
_1. Gent._ It is a piece of the extremest Iustice
That euer Memory can Register.
_2. Gent._ I, in a Father.
_1. Gent._ Oh, I pray forbeare,
The time is full of danger euery-where. _Exeunt._
_Enter_ Lisander, _and the Guard_.
_Lis._ Good gentle friends, before I leaue the Land,
Suffer me to take my last fare-well
Of my owne dearest deare _Leonida_.
Accept this poore reward: would time permit.
I would more largely recompence your loues.
_1. Gua._ You haue preuail’d, my Lord, but pray bee briefe.
We are inioyn’d by strict Commission,
To see you shipt away this present tyde.
_Lis._ Indeed, I will.
_1. Gua._ Then here you may behold,
All that is left of faire _Leonida_.
_Lis._ Oh——
_2. Gua._ How fare you, Sir.
_Lis._ Oh, Gentlemen,
Can you behold this sacred Cabinet,
Which Nature once had made her Treasurie?
But now broke ope by sacrilegious hands,
And not let fall a teare: you are vnkind.
Not Marble but would wet at such a sight,
And cannot you, strange stupiditie!
Thou meere Relike of my dearest Saint!
Vpon this Altar I will sacrifice
This Offering to appeaze thy murd’red Ghost.
_1. Gua._ Restraine, my Lord, this Passion, we lament
As much as you, and grieue vnfaynedly
For her vntimely losse.
_Lis._ As much as I? Oh, ’tis not possible.
You temporize with sorrow: mine’s sincere,
Which I will manifest to all the World.
See what a beauteous forme she yet retaynes,
In the despight of Fate, that men may see,
Death could not seize but on her mortall parts:
Her beautie was diuine and heauenly.
_1. Gua._ Nay, good my Lord, dispatch, the time’s but short.
_Lis._ Indeed, I will, to make an end of time:
For I can liue no longer, since that she,
For whose sake onely, I held truce with time,
Hath left me desolate: no, diuinest loue,
What liuing was deny’d vs, weele enioy
In Immortalitie, where no Crueltie,
Vnder the forme of Iustice, dare appeare.
Sweet sacred Spirit, make not too much haste
To the Elizian Fields, stay but awhile,
And I will follow thee with swifter speed,
Then meditation: thus I seale my vow. _Kisses._
Me thinkes, I feele fresh heat, as if her soule
Had resum’d her former seate agen,
To solemnize this blessed Vnion,
In our last consummation, or else it stayes,
Awayting onely for my companie:
It does, indeed, and I haue done thee wrong,
To let thy heauenly eyes want me so long,
But now I come, deare Loue, Oh, oh!
_1. Gua._ What sound was that?
_2. Gua._ Oh, we are all vndone,
The Prince has slaine himselfe: what shall we doe?
_1. Gua._ There is no way but one, let’s leaue the Land,
If we stay heere, we shall be sure to dye,
And suffer for our too much lenitie,
Though we are innocent.
_2. Gua._ Then haste away:
The doome weele execute vpon our selues,
And ship with speed for Holland, there, no doubt,
We shall haue entertaynment,
There are warres threatned betwixt Spaine and them.
_1. Gua._ Then let vs hoyse vp sayle, mercy receiue
Thy soule to Heauen, Earth to Earth we leaue. _Exeunt._
_Enter_ Atlanta.
_Atlan._ What spectacle is this? A man new slaine,
Close by the Princes Herse! Who is’t? Oh, me,
The Noble Prince _Lisandro_. Cruell Fate,
Is there no hope of life? See, he looks vp,
Ile beare him out of the ayre, and stop his wound:
If there be any hope, I haue a Balme
Of knowne experience, in effecting cures
Almost impossible, and if the wound
Be not too deadly, will recouer him. _Exit Lorenzo._
_Enter_ Aurelia _and_ Iago.
_Iag._ Deare Queene, haue patience.
_Aur._ How, _Iago_, patience?
Tis such a sinne, that were I guiltie of,
I should despayre of mercie. Can a Mother
Haue all the blessings both of Heauen and Earth,
The hopefull issue of a thousand soules
Extinct in one, and yet haue patience?
I wonder patient Heauen beares so long,
And not send thunder to destroy the Land.
The Earth, me thinkes, should vomit sulph’rous Damps,
To stifle and annoy both man and beast,
Seditious Hell should send blacke Furies forth.
To terrifie the hearts of tyrant Kings.
What say the people? doe they not exclaime,
And curse the seruile yoke, in which th’are bound.
Vnder so mercilesse a Gouernour?
_Iag._ Madame, in euery mouth is heard to sound.
Nothing but murmurings and priuate whispers,
Tending to seuerall ends: but all conclude,
The King was too seuere for such a Fact.
_Enter_ Atlanta.
_Aur._ _Atlanta_, welcome, Oh my child, my child.
There lies the summe of all my miserie!
_Atl._ Gracious Madame, doe but heare me speake.
_Aur._ _Atlanta_, I should wrong thy merit else.
What wouldst thou say?
Something I know, to mitigate my griefe.
_Atl._ Rather to adde to your afflictions,
I am the Messenger of heauie Newes.
_Lisandro_, Prince of Naples,
_Aur._ What of him?
_Atl._ Beholding the sad obiect of his loue,
His violent passion draue him to despayre,
And he hath slaine himselfe.
_Iag._ Disastrous chance!
_Atl._ I found him gasping for his latest breath,
And bore him to my Lord _Iago’s_ house,
I vs’d my best of skill to saue his life:
But all, I feare, in vaine: the mortall wound
I find incurable: yet I prolong’d
His life a little, that he yet drawes breath:
Goe you and visit him with vtmost speed:
The Queene and I will follow.
_Iag._ Goe? Ile runne. _Exit Iago._
_Aur._ Was euer Father so vnmercifull,
But for that Monster that was cause of this,
That bloudie, cruell, and inhumane wretch,
That slanderous Detractor of our Sex:
That _Misogynos_, that blasphemous Slaue?
I will be so reueng’d.
_Enter Clowne._
_Atlan._ Madame, no more,
He is not worth your wrath:
Let me alone with him.
_Clow._ Whist, doe you heare?
_Atlan._ How now, what art thou?
_Clow._ Not your Seruant, and yet a Messenger,
No Seruingman, and yet an Vsher too.
_Atlan._ What are you then, Sir? speake.
_Clow._ That can resolue you, and yet cannot speake,
I am no Foole, I am a Fencer, Sir.
_Aur._ A Fencer, sirrah? ha, what Countrey-man?
_Clow._ This Countrey-man, forsooth, but yet borne in
England.
_Aur._ How? borne in England, & this Countrey-man?
_Clow._ I haue bin borne in many Countreyes, Madame,
But I thinke I am best be this Countrey-man,
For many take me for a silly one.
_Aur._ For a silly one?
_Clow._ I, a silly one.
_Atlan._ Oh, Madame, I haue such welcomenesse!
_Aur._ For me, what is’t?
_Atlan._ The baytes of women haue preuented vs,
And hee has intrapt himselfe.
_Aur._ How, by what accident?
_Atlan._ Loue, Madame, loue, read that.
_Aur._ How’s this?
To the most wise and vertuous Amazon,
Chiefe pride and glorie of the Female Sex.
A promising induction: what’s within?
Magnanimous Ladie, maruell not,
That your once Aduersary do’s submit himselfe
To your vnconquer’d beautie.
_Atlan._ Cunning Slaue.
_Aur._ Rather impute it to the power of loue,
Whose heauenly influence hath wrought in me,
So strange a Metamorphosis.
_Atlan._ The very quintessence of flatterie.
_Aur._ In so much, I vow hereafter, to spend all my dayes,
Deuoted to your seruice, it shall be
To expiate my former blasphemies:
My desire is shortly to visit you.
_Atlan._ It shall be to your cost then.
_Aur._ To make testimony of my hearty contrition,
Till when and euer I will protest my selfe,
To be the conuerted _Misogynist_.
_Atlan._ Ha, ha, ha, why, this is excellent!
Beyond imagination.
_Aur._ You must not slip this oportunitie.
_Atlan._ Ile not let passe a minute: his owne man
Ile make an instrument to feed his
Follies with a kind acceptance, and when he comes,
Let me alone to plot his punishment.
_Aur._ Excellent _Atlanta_, I applaud thy wit.
_Atlan._ Ile make him an example to all men,
That dares calumniate a womans fame.
Attend an answere, Ile reward thee well.
_Clow._ I thanke your Madame-ship, Ime glad o’ this,
Tis the best hit that euer Fencer gaue. _Exeunt._
_Enter_ Atticus, Iago, Sforza, _and_ Nicanor.
_Att._ How took the Girle her death? did she not raue?
Exclaime vpon me for the Iustice done
By a iust Father? how tooke Naples sonne
His Exile from our Land? What, no man speake?
My Lords, whence springs this alteration?
Why stand you thus amaz’d? Methinks your eyes
Are fixt in Meditation; and all here
Seeme like so many sencelesse Statues,
As if your soules had suffer’d an eclipse,
Betwixt your iudgements and affections:
Is it not so? 'Sdeath, no man answers?
_Iago_, you can tell: I’me sure you saw
The execution of _Leonida_,
Not yet a sillable? If once agen
We doe but aske the question, Death tyes vp
Your soules for euer. Call a Heads-man there.
If for our daughter this dumbe griefe proceed,
Why should not We lament as well as you?
I was her father; whose deare life I priz’d
Aboue mine owne, before she did transgresse:
And, could the Law haue so bin satisfi’d.
Mine should ha’ paid the ransome of her cryme.
But, that the World should know our equitie,
Were she a thousand daughters she should die.
_Iag._ I can forbeare no longer. Then (Sir) know,
It was about that time, when as the Sunne
Had newly climb’d ouer the Easterne hils,
To glad the world with his diurnall heat,
When the sad ministers of Iustice tooke
Your daughter from the bosome of the Queene
Whom now she had instructed to receiue
Deaths cold imbraces with alacritie:
Which she so well had learn’d, that shee did striue,
Like a too forward Scholler, to exceed
Her Teachers doctrine,
So cheerefully she went vnto the Block,
As if shee’d past vnto her nuptiall bed.
And as the trembling Bride when she espies
The Bridegroome hastily vnclothe himselfe,
And now beginning to approch the bed,
Then she began to quake and shrinke away,
To shun the separation of that head,
Which is imaginary onely, and not reall.
So, when she saw her Executioner
Stand readie to strike out that fatall blow,
Nature, her frailtie, and the alluring world,
Did then begin to oppose her constancie:
But she, whose mind was of a nobler frame,
Vanquish’d all oppositions, and imbrac’d
The stroke with courage beyond Womans strength;
And the last words she spoke, said, I reioyce
That I am free’d of Fathers tyrannie.
_Attic._ Forbeare to vtter more. We are not pleas’d
With these vnpleasing accents: Leaue the world
So cheerefully, and speake of tyrannie:
She was not guiltie sure. We’le heare no more.
_Iag._ Sir, but you shall: since you inforc’d me speake,
I will not leaue a sillable vntold.
You ask’d if Naples sonne were banish’d too?
Yes, he is banish’d euer from the sight
Of mortall eyes againe: for he is dead.
_Nic._ _Lisandro_ dead! By what occasion?
_Iag._ I scorne to answer thee. The King shall know,
It was his chance vpon that haplesse houre,
To passe that way, conducted by his gard,
Towards his banishment; where he beheld
The wofull obiect of the Princesse head:
There might you see loue, pittie, rage, despaire,
Acting together in their seuerall shapes;
That it was hard to iudge, which of all those
Were most predominant. At last, despaire
Became sole Monarke of his passions,
Which drew him to this error: Hauing got
Leaue of his gard to celebrate his vowes,
Vnto that precious relique of his Saint,
Where hauing breath’d a mournfull Elegie,
After a thousand sighs, ten thousand grones,
Still crying out, _Leonida_, my loue!
Then, as his death were limited by hers,
He sacrifiz’d his life vnto her loue:
For there (vnluckily) he slew himselfe.
_Sfor._ The King’s displeas’d, my Lord.
_Iag._ No matter: I’me glad I touch’d his conscience
To the quicke. Did you not see
How my relation chang’d his countenance,
As if my words ingendred in his brest
Some new-bred passions?
_Sfor._ Yes, and did obserue
How fearefully he gaz’d vpon vs all: _Enter Queene._
Pray heauen it proue not ominous.
_Iag._ The Queene!
_Quee._ Where is this King? this King? this tyrant? He
That would be cald The iust and righteous King,
When in his actions he is most vniust;
Beyond example, cruell, tyrannous?
Where is my daughter? Where’s _Leonida_?
Where is _Lusippus_ too, my first borne hope?
And where is deare _Lorenzo_? dead? all dead?
And would to God I were intomb’d with them,
Emptie of substance. Curse of Soueraigntie,
That feed’st thy fancie with deluding hopes
Of fickle shadowes; promising to one,
Eternitie of fame; and vnto all,
To be accounted wise and vertuous,
Obseruing but your Lawes and iust decrees;
That vnder shew of being mercifull,
Art most vnkind, and cruell: nay, ’tis true.
Goe where thou wilt, still will I follow thee,
And with my sad laments still beat thy eares,
Till all the world of thy iustice heares. _Ex. King, and Qu._
_Nic._ This Physick works too strongly, and may proue a deadly potion.
_Sforza_, good my Lord, if any anger be ’twixt you and I, let it lye
buried now; and let’s deuise some pastime to suppresse this
heauinesse. A melancholy King makes a sad Court.
_Iag._ I neuer heard him speake so carefully
Of the Kings welfare. I, with all my heart.
_Sfor._ Who’le vndertake this charge?
_Nic._ I will, my Lord: Let the deuice be mine.
_Iag._ I’le get the Amazon to ioyne with you:
Her rare inuention, and experience too,
In forraine Countries may auaile you much,
In some new quaint conceit.
_Nic._ Doe, good my Lord:
I’de ha’t assoone presented as I could.
_Iag._ Tonight, if it be possible: farewell.
I must goe looke her out.
_Nic._ Ha, ha, ha, ha.
So by this meanes, I shall expresse may selfe
Studious and carefull.
SCEN. III.
_Enter_ ATLANTA _and_ AVRELIA.
_Aur._ But dost thou thinke hee’le come?
_Att._ He cannot chuse.
I sent him such a louing answer backe
By his Solliciter, able to make
An Eunuch to come with the conceit.
The houre’s almost at hand. Madam, command
A banquet be set forth: My charge shall be
_Enter with a Banquet, Women._
To giue him intertainement: whilst your Grace,
_Loretta_, and the Ladies of your traine,
Or any others you shall please to appoint,
Be ready to surprise him. So ’tis well.
Now leaue the rest to mee.
_Aur._ My deare _Atlanta_, I commend thy care.
_Att._ Call it my dutie, Madam, and the loue
I owe to sacred vertue, to defend
The same of women. All withdraw awhile, _Ex. Women._
I thinke I heare him comming. I, ’tis he.
_Enter_ Misogynos _and Swash_.
_Swash._ This is the place, Sir, she appoynted you.
_Mis._ Is this the Orchard then,
Where I must pluck the fruit from that faire tree?
_Swash._ I would it might proue Stone-fruit,
And so choke him.
_Mis._ Ha! what’s here? a banquet?
_Swa._ Banquet? Where?
_Mis._ Readie prepar’d? why, this is excellent!
What a kind creature ’tis?
_Swa._ Did not I say
How monstrously she lou’d you? Come, fall to.
_Mis._ Before my Mistresse come?
_Swa._ I’faith Sir, I;
This is but onely a prouocatiue,
To make you strong and lustie for the incounter.
_Mis._ And here’s Wine too;
Nothing but Bloud and Spirit.
Fall to, _Swash_.
_Swa._ A sweetthing is loue,
That fills both heart and mind:
There is no comfort in the world,
To women that are kind. Here, Sir, I’le drinke to you.
_Mis._ I would she would come away once: Now, methinks,
I could performe. And see! but wish and haue.
_Enter_ Atlanta.
_Atlan._ Oh, are you come? I see you keep your houre.
_Mis._ I should be sorry else.
_Atl._ Nay, keepe your place.
_Mis._ Will you sit downe then? Sirrah? Walke aloofe.
_Atl._ Let him be doing something. Here, take this.
_Mis._ I haue made bold to taste your Wine and Cates.
And when you please, we’le try the operation.
_Atl._ How?
_Mis._ You know my mind.
_Atlan._ You men are all so fickle, that poore we
Doe not know whom to trust.
But doe you loue me truely?
_Mis._ By this kisse.
_Atl._ No, saue that labour, Sir: I’le take your word.
Yet, how should I beleeue you, when so late
You rail’d against our Sex, and slander’d vs?
_Mis._ Oh doe not thinke of that, that’s done and gone.
Doe not recall what’s past. I now recant:
And (by this hand) I loue thee truly, Loue.
_Atl._ May I beleeue all this?
_Mis._ Come hither, _Swash_.
How often haue I sworne to thee alone,
I lou’d this Lady; neuer none but shee?
_Swa._ Yes truely, that he has.
_Mis._ You may be proud, I tell you, of my loue,
There is a thousand Women in this Towne,
To imbrace me, would clap their hands for ioy,
And run like so many wild Cats.
_Swa._ That they would,
I dare be sworne for vm,
And hang about him like so many Catch-poles,
He would ne’r get from vm,
And yet this happinesse is profer’d you.
_Atl._ Which I cannot refuse,
You haue, you know, such a preuayling tongue,
No woman can deny you any thing.
_Mis._ Why, that was kindly spoke. Where shall wee meet?
_Atl._ Hearke in your eare, I’le tell you.
_Mis._ Best of all.
_Atl._ But—
_Mis._ Doe you thinke mesuch a foole?
_Atl._ Till then farewell: I’le speedily returne. _Ex. Atl._
_Mis._ Why law now, _Swash_, I told thee she would yeeld,
No woman in the world can hold out long.
Oh beware when a man of Art courts a woman.
_Swa._ I, or a Fencer, Sir: We lay vm flat before vs.
But, pray you tell me, Master, Doe you loue
This Lasse sincerely?
_Mis._ Ha, ha, ha. Loue? that were a iest indeed,
To passe away the time for sport, or so;
Th’are made for nothing else:
And he that loues vm longer, is a foole.
_Swa._ Me thinkes ’tis pittie to delude her, Sir:
I’faith she’s a handsome wench.
_Mis._ Away, you Asse.
Delude? what are they good for else?
_Enter_ Atlanta.
She comes againe. Out of the Orchard, _Swash_.
Welcome, Sweet heart.
_Atl._ Are you in priuate, Sir?
_Mis._ There’s not an eye vnder the Horizon
That can behold vs; If Suspicion tell,
I’le beat her blind as euer Fencer was.
_Atl._ Sir, now you talke of Fencing, I heare you
Professe that noble Science.
_Mis._ ’Tis most true.
_Atl._ I loue you, Sir, the better; ’tis a thing
I honour with my heart. If any one
Should scandalize or twit me with your loue,
You can defend my fame, and make such men—
_Mis._ Creepe on their knees, aske thee forgiuenesse,
Or any other base submission.
_Atl._ Oh, what a happinesse shall I inioy?
But can can you doe this if occasion serue?
_Mis._ Would some were here to make experience,
That thou mightst see my skill.
_Atl._ Sir, that will I. _Strike him._
_Mis._ How’s this?
_Atl._ Impudent slaue,
How dar’st thou looke a woman in the face,
Or commence loue to any: Specially to mee?
Thou know’st I’me vow’d thy publique enemie,
Which this, and this, and this shall testifie.
_Mis._ Oh that I had a weapon, thou shouldst know,
A thousand women could not stand one blow,
From my vnconquerd arme.
_Atl._ That shall be tride.
I’le fit you, Sir, in your owne element.
I thinke thou darest not looke vpon a sword.
See, there’s a foyle: I will but thumpe you, Sir.
Thy life’s reseru’d vnto a worse reuenge. _Play._
_Mis._ Oh. Some Deuil’s enterd in this Idol sure,
To make mee misbelieue. Oh.
_Atl._ Cowardly slaue. A Fencer? you a Fidler.
He cannot hold his weapon,
Gard his brest; no, nor defend a thrust. Art not asham’d
Thus to disgrace that noble exercise?
_Mis._ Oh: Hold, hold; I yeeld, I yeeld.
_Atl._ Has our Countrie meats fed you so high,
You needs must haue a stale for your base lust?
I’le satiate your sences ere I haue done:
And so much for your feeling: For your taste,
You haue had sufficient in your sweet-meats, Sir:
Your drinke too was perfum’d to please your smell.
_Mis._ I, but I haue had but sowre sauce to vm.
_Atl._ Why then the Prouerbe holds. Now for your sight.
Madam, Come forth, and bring your followers.
_Enter all the Women._
_Mis._ I’de rather see so many Cockatrices.
Oh that my eyes might be for euer shut,
So that I might ne’r behold these Crocadils.
_Aur._ Where’s this bawling Bandog.
_Omnes._ Here, here, here, here.
_Mis._ Murder, murder, murder. I’me betraid.
I shall be torne in pieces. Murder, ho.
_Aur._ Is this the dogged Humorist that cals
Himselfe the woman-hater?
_Mis._ On my knees.
_Aur._ Dost thou reply, vile Monster? Binde him, come.
_Old W._ Let me come to him, Ile so mumble him.
_Aur._ Remember faire _Leonida_ my child,
Whose innocence was made a Sacrifice
To thy base Forgeries and Sophistrie.
_Omnes._ Out, you abominable Rascall.
_Aur._ This for your hearing, Sir: now all is full.
_Mis._ Ladies, Gentlewomen, sweet _Atlanta_, all,
Heare me but speake.
_Lor._ No, not a syllable.
You haue spoke to match alreadie, you damn’d Rogue.
But weele reward you for’t. Skrew his iawes.
_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh.
_Aur._ Now, thou inhumane wretch, what punishment
Shall we inuent sufficient to inflict,
According to the height of our reuenge?
_Omnes._ Let’s teare his limmes in pieces, ioynt from ioynt.
_Mis._ Oh, oh.
_Scold._ Three or foure paire of Pincers, now red hot,
Were excellent.
_Lor._ Will not our Bodkings serue?
_Aur._ Hang him, Slaue, shall he dye as noble a death
As _Cæsar_ did? No, no: pinch him, pricke him.
_A Boy._ I haue small Pins enow to serue vs all.
_Scold._ We cannot wish for better: take him vp,
And bind him to this Post.
_Lor._ Faith, Post and Paire,
As good a Game as can be.
_Aur._ Come, let’s to’t,
Shuffle the Cards, and leaue out all the Knaues.
_Atl._ No, the Knaues in at Post, and out at Paire.
_Aur._ Shall it be so? Agreed?
Deale round.
_Scold._ First, stake.
_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh, oh.
_Atl._ Passe.
_Aur._ Passe.
_Lor._ Nay, Ile not passe it so. _Mis._ Oh, oh.
_A Boy._ Faith, Ile be in too,
_Mis._ Oh!
_Enter two Old Women and Swash._
_Aur._ Againe, for me too, I will vye it. _Mis._ Oh.
_Atl._ And for me, Ile not deny it. _Mis._ Oh.
_Lor._ Ile see you, and revy’t agen. _Mis._ Oh, oh.
_Scold._ For your two, Ile put in ten. _Mis._ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.
_Aur._ How now? stay, who’s this?
_Swash._ I could not find the way out of the Orchard,
If I should ha’ beene hang’d, but fell into these
Old Women s mouthes: but the best is,
They had no teeth to bite me, but my Grandame heere
Scratches most deuillishly.
_Atl._ Here’s a Whelpe of the same Litter too.
Come hither Sirrah, doe you know this man?
_Swash._ Yes, forsooth, I know him,
He was my Master once, want of a better.
_Lor._ Then you were one of his Confederates, Sir.
_Swash._ I his Confederate? I defye him,
He knowes I alwayes gaue him good counsell,
If he had had the grace to follow it:
Here he is himselfe, let him deny’t if he can.
_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh.
_Swash._ Did not I euer say, Master, take heed,
Wrong not kind Gentlewomen,
Honest louing women? Many a time
Haue I beene beaten by him blacke and blue,
For looking on a woman, is’t not true?
_Mis._ Oh, oh.
_Swash._ You seehis bringing vp,
To make a mouth at all this companie.
_Aur._ This is an honest fellow; he shall escape.
Sirrah, thou lou’st a woman?
_Swash._ I, with all my heart.
_Scold._ He lookes as if he did.
_Atl._ Well, stand aside, weele imploy you anon:
Forbeare your tortors yet, something is hid,
That we must haue reueal’d, and he himselfe
Shall be his owne accuser: you all know,
He hath arraign’d vs for inconstancie:
But now weele arraigne him, and iudge him too,
This is womans counsell: Madame, we make you
Ladie Chiefe Iustice of this Female Court,
Mistris Recorder, I. _Loretta_, you,
Sit for the Notarie: _Crier_, she:
The rest shall beare inferior Offices,
As Keepers, Seriants, Executioners.
_Swash._ Ide rather be a Hangman then a Seriant:
Yet there’s no great difference, if one will not,
T’other must.
_Atl._ Mother, goe you and call a Iurie full,
Of which y’are the fore-woman.
_1. Old W._ Thanke you forsooth, Ile fetch one presently:
’Tis fit he should be scratcht, and please your Grace:
Sure, he is no man.
_Atl._ We want a Barre. O, these two foyles shall serue:
One stucke i’ the Earth, and crosse it from this Tree.
Now take your places, bring him to the Barre,
Sirrah, vngag him.
_Swash._ Let him be gag’d still:
Then you are sure what e’r you say to him,
He cannot contradict you.
_Atl._ Pull it out.
_Swash._ Doe not bite y’are best.
_Mis._ Oh, that I were a Serpent for your sakes,
Bearing a thousand stings.
_Aur._ Worse then thou art,
Thou canst not wish to be, abortiue wretch.
Bring him to the Barre.
_Swash._ You’ld not be rul’d by me: I told you o’this,
And now you see what followes,
Hanging’s the least, what-cu’r followes that.
_Aur._ Clarke of the Peace,
Reade the Indictment.
_Scold._ Silence in the Court.
_Swash._ Silence? & none but women? That were strange!
_Lor._ _Misogynos_, hold vp thy hand.
_Swash._ His name is _Swetnam_, not _Misogynos_.
That’s but a borrowed name.
_Mis._ Peace, you Rogue,
Will you discouer me?
_Aur._ _Swetnam_ is his name.
_Swash._ I, _Ioseph Swetnam_, that’s his name, forsooth,
_Ioseph_ the Iew was a better Gentile farre.
_Lor._ Then _Ioseph Swetnam, alias Misogynos,
Alias Molastomus, alias_ the _Woman-hater_.
_Swash._ How came he by all these names?
I haue heard many say, he was neu’r christen’d.
_Lor._ Thou art here indicted by these names, that thou,
Contrary to nature, and the peace of this Land,
Hast wickedly and maliciously slandred,
Maligned, and opprobriously defamed the ciuill societie
Of the whole Sex of women: therefore speake,
Guiltie, or not guiltie?
_Mis._ Not guiltie.
_Swash._ Hum.
_Omnes._ Not guiltie.
_Mis._ No, not guiltie.
_Aur._ Darest thou denie a truth so manifest?
Didst thou not lately both by word, and deed,
Publish a Pamphlet in disgrace of vs,
And of all women-kind?
_Mis._ No, no, no, not I.
_Swash._ Hum.
_Atl._ Calling vs tyrannous, ambitious, cruell?
_Aur._ Comparing vs to Serpents, Crocodiles
For Dissimulation, _Hiena’s_ for Subtilties,
Such like?
_Lor._ And farre worse:
That we are all the Deuils agents,
To seduce Man agen?
_Scold._ That all our studies are but to delude
Our credulous Husbands?
_Mis._ I denie all this.
_Swash._ Hum.
_Lor._ Nay more,
Thou dost affirme, without distinction,
All married Wiues are the Deuils Hackneyes,
To carrie their Husbands to Hell.
_Aur._ Inhumane Monster, hast thou neu’r a Mother?
_Swash._ No, forsooth, he is a _Succubus_, begot
Betwixt a Deuill and a Witch.
_Mis._ If I did any such, let it be produc’d.
_Atl._ Bring in the Books for a firme Euidence,
And bid the Iurie giue the Verdict vp.
_Enter two Old Women._
_Old W._ Guiltie, guiltie, guiltie.
Guiltie of Woman-slander, and defamation.
_Atl._ Produce the Bookes, and reade the Title of vm.
_Lor._ The Arraignment of idle, froward,
And vnconstant women.
_Aur._ What say you, Sir, to this?
_Mis._ Shew me my name, and then Ile yeeld vnto’t.
_Aur._ No, that’s your policie and cowardise,
You durst not publish, what you dar’d to write,
Thy man is witnesse to’t: sirrah, confesse,
Or you shall eu’n be seru’d of the same sawce.
_Swash._ No, no, no, no, Ile tell you all,
He is no Fencer, that’s but for a shew,
For feare of being beaten: the best Clarke,
For cowardise that can be in the World,
To terrifie the Female Champions,
He was in England, a poore Scholer first,
And came to Medley, to eate Cakes and Creame,
At my old Mothers house, she trusted him:
At least some sixteene shillings o’the score,
And he perswaded her, he would make me
A Scholer of the Niniuersitie, which she, kind Foole, beleeu’d:
He neu’r taught me any Lesson, but to raile against women,
That was my morning and my euening Lecture.
And in one yeere he runne away from thence,
And then he tooke the habit of a Fencer:
And set vp Schoole at Bristow: there he liu’d
A yeere or two, till he had writ this Booke:
And then the women beat him out the Towne,
And then we came to London: there forsooth,
He put his Booke i’the Presse, and publisht it,
And made a thousand men and wiues fall out.
Till two or three good wenches, in meere spight,
Laid their heads together, and rail’d him out of th’ Land,
Then we came hither: this is all forsooth.
_Aur._ ’Tis eu’n enough.
_Mis._ ’Tis all as false as women.
_Omnes._ Stop his mouth.
_Atlan._ Either be quiet, or y’are gag’d agen.
_Aur._ Proceed in Iudgement.
_Atlan._ Madame, thus it is.
First, he shall weare this Mouzell, to expresse
His barking humour against women-kind.
And he shall be led, and publike showne,
In euery Street i’ the Citie, and be bound
In certaine places to a Post or Stake,
And bayted by all the honest women in the Parish.
_Mis._ Is that the worst? there will not one be found
In all the Citie.
_Omnes._ Out, you lying Rascall.
Forbeare a little.
_Atlan._ Then he shal be whipt quite thorow the Land,
Till he come to the Sea-Coast, and then be shipt,
And sent to liue amongst the Infidels.
_Omnes._ Oh, the Lord preserue your Grace.
_Lor._ Oh, oh, oh.
_Aur._ Call in his Bookes,
And let vm all be burn’d and cast away,
And his Arraignment now put i’the Presse,
That he may liue a shame vnto his Sex.
_Atlan._ Sirrah, the charge be yours: which if you faile,
You shall be vs’d so too: if well perform’d,
You shall be well rewarded. Breake vp Court.
_Omnes._ Away, you bawling Mastiffe.
_Clow._ Pish, pish. _Exeunt._
_Enter_ Atticus, Sforza, Nicanor, _and one or two Lords more_.
_King._ Why doe you thus pursue me? Can no place
Shelter a King from being bayted thus
With Acclamations beyond sufferance
Of Maiestie, or mortall strength to beare?
We will indure’t no longer. Where’s our Guard?
Where is _Aurelia_? where’s _Iago_ gone?
To studie new Inuectiues? If agen
They dare but vtter the least syllable,
Or smallest title of inueteracie,
They shall not breathe a minute. Must a Prince
Be checkt, and schooled, pursued and scolded at,
For executing Iustice?
_Nic._ Royall, Sir.
Be pleased, to cast away these Discontents.
_Iago’s_ sorrie for his bold offence.
The Queene repents her too, and all the Court
Is clowded o’r with griefe: your sadnesse, Sir,
Fils euery Subiects heart with heauinesse.
Will’t please your Highnesse to behold some pastime,
There is a Maske and other sports prepar’d:
Prepared to solace you,
To steale away your sorrowes.
_King._ Who’s that spoke?
_Nicanor_, is’t hee? I thought as much:
I knew no other would be halfe so kind,
Nor carefull of our health: doe what thou wilt,
We will deny nothing that thou demandest,
My dearest Comforter, stay to my age,
The hope of Sicilie lyes now in thee.
Come sit by vs, weele see what new deuice
Thy diligence——_Nic._ My dutie.
_King._ No, thy loue
Hath studied to delight thy Soueraigne.
Come sit, _Nicanor_.
_Nic._ Pardon, Sir, awhile,
Ile giue command to see it straight perform’d,
And instantly returne.
_King._ Make no delay:
We haue no ioy but in thy companie.
_Nic._ Nor I no Hell, but thy continuance.
Ile present that will shorten it, I hope.
_King._ _Sforza_, thou louest me too: come neerer vs:
But old _Iago_ is a froward Lord,
Honest, but lenatiue, ore-swaid too much
With pitt e against Iustice, that’s not good:
Indeed it is not in a Counsellar.
And he has too much of woman, otherwise
He might be Ruler of a Monarchie,
For policie and wisdome. _Sforza_ sit,
Take you your places to behold this Maske.
_Enter_ Nicanor.
_Nic._ Now they are readie.
_King._ Let vm enter then.
Come sit by vs, _Nicanor_, and describe
The meaning, as they enter.
_Enter_ Iago, _and the Queene_.
_Iag._ Heere your Grace
May vndiscouered sit, and view the Maske,
And see how ’tis affected by the King:
I know, 'twill nip him to the verie soule.
The Maskers. _Enter Musike, dance._
_Nic._ He that leads the Dance,
Is called wilfull Ignorance.
_King._ The next that pryes on euery side,
As if feare his feet did guide,
Is held a wretch of base condition,
He is titled false Suspition.
_Nic._ The third is of a bolder Faction,
But more deadly, ’tis Detraction.
The last is Crueltie, a King that long,
In seeming good, did sacred Iustice wrong.
_King._ This Moral’s meant by me: by heauen it is,
By Heauen, indeed: for nothing else had power
To make me see my Follies. I confesse,
’Twas wilfull Ignorance, and Selfe-conceit,
Sooth’d with Hypocrisie, that drew me first
Into suspition of my Daughters loue,
And call’d it Disobedience: false Suspect,
’Twas thou possest me, that _Leonida_
Was spotted and vnchaste.
_Nic._ So, now it workes.
_King._ And then Detraction prou’d a deadly Foe.
_Iag._ I knew ’twould take effect.
_Aur._ Most happily.
_King._ I am that King did sacred Iustice wrong,
Vnder a shew of Iustice, now ’tis plaine,
It was my crueltie, not her desert,
That sacrific’d my Child to pallid Death.
_Lisandro_ flew himselfe, but I, not he
Must answere for that guiltlesse bloud was spilt:
For I was Authour on’t, my Crueltie,
Diuorcing two such Louers, was the cause
That drew him to despayre. How they all gaze,
Whisper together, and then point at me,
As if they here had being! yes they haue:
But it shall proue a restlesse bed for them.
Why doe they not begin?
_Enter Repentance._
_Nic._ Belike they want some of their companie.
_King._ But stay, who’s that descends so prosperously,
With such sweet sounding Musike? All obserue.
_Musike, dance._
_Nic._ See how the splendor of that Maiestie,
That came from Heauen, hath disperst away
Suspition, Ignorance, and Crueltie,
And instantly o’rcome Detraction too,
Those enemies to vertue, foes to man,
Are vanisht from my sight, and from my heart.
But let Repentance stay. Ha, shallow Foole,
Doe I so slightly bid her? On my knees,
She must be followed, call’d and su’d vnto.
And by continuall Prayers, woo’d, and wonne,
Which I will neuer cease, if not too late.
I doe repent me, let this Sacrifice
Make satisfaction for those fore-past Crimes
My ignorant soule committed.
_Repen._ ’Tis accepted.
Imbrace me freely, rise: neuer too late
To call vpon Repentance.
_Nic._ I am trapt.
Oh, the great Deuill! whose deuice was this?
Now all will be reueal’d, I neuer dream’t
Vpon Repentance, I: but now I see,
Truth will discouer all mens Trecherie.
_King._ Liue euer in my bosome. What meanes this?
_Enter_ Lorenzo, Lisandro, Leonida, _a Siluan Nymph_.
_Lor._ If a Siluan’s rude behauiour
May not heere despaire of fauour:
Then to thee this newes I bring,
Thou art call’d the righteous King,
And as Fame do’s make report,
Heere liues Iustice in thy Court:
Know, that all the Happinesse
I did in this World possesse,
Was my onely Daughter, who
_Pan_ did on my age bestow,
She was named _Claribell_,
Whom _Palemon_ loued well:
And she lou’d him as well againe;
So that nothing did remaine,
But the tying _Hymens_ Knot.
But it chanced so, God wot,
That an old decrepit man
Most prepostrously began,
With flatt’ring words to woo my Daughter,
But being still deny’d, he after
Turn’d his loue to mortall hate
_Claribell_ to ruinate,
Striuing to o’rpresse her fame,
With Lust, Contempt, Reproch, and Shame.
_Kin._ What wouldst thou haue Vs doe?
Good Father, speake.
_Lor._ This fellow hath subborn’d a rout
Ofsome base Villaines here-about,
To take away my daughters life,
Or else to rauish her. To end this strife
Be pleas’d to ioyne these Louers hands
Into sacred nuptiall bands.
_Sfor._ Nothing but put vm both together, Sir.
The good old Shepheard would faine ha’t a match.
_Kin._ We are content. Come giue Vs both your hands.
_Lor._ You are a King; yet they are loth
To take your word without an othe.
_Kin._ As We are King of Sicil, ’tis confirm’d
Firme, to be reuoked neuer,
Vntill death their liues disseuer.
_Lor._ Princes, discouer: Here are witnesses
Inow to testifie this royall match.
_Kin._ My daughter, and _Lisandro_, liuing?
_Lor._ Nay, wonder not, my Liege, your oath is past.
_Kin._ Which thus, and thus, and thus I ratifie:
There is but one step more, and farewell all.
_Aur._ Oh, I am made immortall with this sight:
My daughter, and _Lisandro_, both aliue?
_Iag._ This is no newes to mee: yet teares of ioy
Ore-flowes mine eyes to see this vnitie.
_Kin._ Oh daughter, I haue done thee too much wrong:
And, noble Prince, We now confesse Our errour:
But heauen be prais’d that you haue both escap’d
The tyrannie of Our vniust decree.
_Aur._ What happie accident preseru’d your liues?
Whose was the proiect? Was it thine, old man?
_Lor._ Madam, ’twas mine: Those that I could not saue
By eloquence, by policie I haue.
_Kin._ Worthie _Atlanta_, thou hast merited
Beyond all imitation. We are made
Too poore to gratifie thy high deserts.
_Lor._ Dread Soueraigne,
All my deserts, my selfe, and what I haue,
Thus I throw downe before your Highnesse feet.
_Att._ My Sonne _Lorenzo_! Oh, assist, my Lords.
The current of my ioy’s so violent,
It does o’r-come my spirits. Worthy Sonne,
Welcome from death; from bands, captiuitie.
_Aur._ Welcome into my bosome as my soule.
_Prince._ My princely Brother, could I adde a loue
Vnto that dutie that I owe for life,
I am ingag’d vnto’t, you are my lifes Protector,
And my Brother.
_Lis._ And for a life I stand indebted too,
Which Ile detayne, onely to honour you.
_Omnes._ And on our knees we must this dutie tender,
To you our Patron, and our Fames Defender.
_Rep._ Behold the ioyes Repentance brings with her,
Thy blessings are made full in Heauen and Earth.
_Att._ Was euer Father happier in a Sonne,
Or euer Kingdome had more hopefull Prince?
But in a loyall Subiect, neuer King
More blest then we are: and the grace we owe,
Though farre too poore to quittance, shall make known,
Thy loue and merit. Now we can discerne
Our friends from flatt’rers. _Nicanor_, as for you,
But that this houre is sacred vnto ioy,
Thy life should pay the ransome of thy guilt.
_Nic._ Your Graces pardon. ’Twas not pride of state,
But her disdaine, that first inspir’d in me
This hope of Soueraigntie.
_Att._ Well, we forgiue.
Learne to liue honest now. Come, beautyous Queene,
We hope that all are pleas’d: and now you see,
In vaine we striue to crosse, what Heauens decree.
_FINIS._
[Illustration]
EPILOGVE.
_Enter_ Swetnam _muzzled, hal’d in by Women_.
Swet. _Why doe you hale me thus? Is’t not enough,
I haue withstood a tryall? beene arraign’d?
Indured the torture of sharp-pointed Needles?
The Whip? and old Wiues Nayles? but I must stand,
To haue another Iurie passe on me?_
Loret. _It was a generall wrong; therefore must haue
A generall tryall, and a Iudgement too._
Leon. _The greatest wrong was mine; he sought my life:
Which fact I freely pardon, to approoue
Women are neither tyrannous, nor cruell,
Though you report vs so._
Swet. _I now repent,
And thus to you (kind Iudges) I appeale.
Me thinkes, I see no anger in your eyes:
Mercie and Beautie best doe sympathize:
And here for-euer I put off this shape,
And with it all my spleene and malice too,
And vow to let no time or act escape,
In which my seruice may be shewne to you.
And this my hand, which did my shame commence,
Shall with my Sword be vs’d in your defence._
FINIS.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Did not change “VV” to “W”.
2. Changed “We all deserue as much” to “We all deserue as much.”
3. Changed “For I should neuer liue till your returne,” to “For I
should neuer liue till your returne.”
4. Changed “For when the the Nauies ioyn’d, the Cannons plaid” to
“For when the Nauies ioyn’d, the Cannons plaid”.
5. Changed “By this hand, I shall thinke my money vell bestowed” to
“By this hand, I shall thinke my money well bestowed”.
6. Changed “_Enter_ Nicanor.” to “_Enter Nicanor_.”
7. Changed “_Scan._ Goe then, Ile follow,” to “_Scan._ Goe then, Ile
follow.”
8. Changed the second “SCEN. II.” to “SCEN. III.” in Act IIII.
9. Changed “_Attic._ But not the the freedome of _Leonida_” to
“_Attic._ But not the freedome of _Leonida_”.
10. Changed “I neuer heard him speake so carefully” to “_Iag._ I neuer
heard him speake so carefully”. [The catchword on the previous
page was “Iag.”]
11. Changed “_Scold,_ He lookes as if he did” to “_Scold._ He lookes
as if he did”.
12. Changed “_King_ No, thy loue” to “_King._ No, thy loue”.
13. Changed “Thus I throw downe before your Highnesse feet,” to “Thus
I throw downe before your Highnesse feet.”
14. Retained all spellings and punctuations as printed except as noted
above.
15. Except for apostrophes, silently corrected spaces around
punctuation, for example changed “ ,” to “,” and “,a” to “, a”.
16. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.