_What thing is love? for sure I am it is a thing,
It is a prick, it is a thing, it is a prettie, prettie thing;
It is a fire, it is a cole, whose flame creeps in at every hoale;
And as my wits do best devise
Loves dwelling is in Ladies eies_.
_Haunce_. O rare wench!
_Cor_. Faire Prince, thy picture is not here imprest
With such perfection as within my brest.
_Mar_. Soft, maister Doctor.
_Doct_. _Cornelia_, by garr dis paltry marshan be too bolde, is too
sawcie by garr. Foole, holde off hand, foole; let de Doctor speake.
_Han_. Now my brave wooers, how they strive for a Jewes Trump.
_Doct_. Madam, me love you; me desire to marry you. Me pray you not
to say no.
_Cor_. Maister Doctor, I think you do not love me;
I am sure you shall not marry me,
And (in good sadnes) I must needs say no.
_Mar_. What say you to this, maister Doctor. Mistresse, let me speake.
That I do love you I dare not say, least I should offend you; that I
would marry you I had rather you should conceive then I should utter:
and I do live or die upon your _Monasi[la]ble_, I or no.
_Doct_. By gar if you will see de _Marshan_ hang himselfe, say no:
a good shasse by garr.
_Han_. A filthy French jest as I am a Dutch gentleman.
_Mar_. Mistresse, Ile bring you from _Arabia_,
_Turckie_, and _India_, where the Sunne doth rise,
Miraculous Jemmes, rare stuffes of pretious worke,
To beautifie you more then all the paintings
Of women with their coullour-fading cheekes.
_Doct_. You bring stuffe for her? you bring pudding. Me vit one, two,
tree pence more den de price buy it from dee and her too by garr: by
garr dow sella' dy fader for two pence more. Madam, me gieve you
restoratife; me give you tings (but toush you) make you faire; me gieve
you tings make you strong; me make you live six, seaven, tree hundra
yeere: you no point so, Marshan. Marshan run from you two, tree, foure
yere together: who shall kisse you dan? Who shall embrace you dan? Who
shall toush your fine hand? ô shall, ô sweete, by garr.
_Mar_. Indeed, M. Doctor, your commodities are rare; a guard of Urinals
in the morning; a plaguie fellow at midnight; a fustie Potticarie ever
at hand with his fustian drugges, attending your pispot worship.
_Doct_. By garr, skurvy marshan, me beat dee starck dead, and make dee
live againe for sav'a de law.
_Han_. A plaguie marshan by gar, make the doctor angre.
_Doct_. Now, madam, by my trot you be very faire.
_Cor_. You mock me, M. Doct, I know the contrary.
_Doct_. Know? what you know? You no see your selfe, by garr me see you;
me speake vatt me see; you no point speake so:
_Han_. Peace, Doctor, I vise you. Do not court in my maisters hearing,
you were best.
_Enter Flores_.
_Flo_. Where are these wooers heere? poore sillie men,
Highly deceiv'd to gape for marriage heere
Onely for gaine: I have another reache
More high then their base spirits can aspire:
Yet must I use this Doctors secret aide,
That hath alreadie promist me a drug
Whose vertue shall effect my whole desires.
_Doct_. O _Monsieur Flores_, mee be your worships servant; mee lay my
hand under your Lordships foote by my trot.
_Flo_. O maister Doctor, you are welcome to us,
And you, _Albertus_, it doth please me much
To see you vowed rivalls thus agree.
_Doct_. Agree? by my trot sheele not have him.
_Ma_. You finde not that in your urins, M. Doctor.
_Doct_. _Mounsieur Flores_, come hedder, pray.
_Flo_. What sayes maister Doctor? have you remembred me?
_Doct_. I, by garr: heere be de powdra, you give de halfe at once.
_Flo_. But are you sure it will worke the effect?
_Doct_. Me be sure? by garr she no sooner drinke but shee hang your neck
about; she stroake your beard; she nippe your sheeke; she busse your
lippe, by garr.
_Flo_. What, wilt thou eate me, Doctor?
_Doct_. By garr, mee must shew you de vertue by plaine demonstration.
_Flo_. Well, tell me, is it best in wine or no?
_Doct_. By garr de Marshan, de Marshan, I tinck he kisse my sweete
mistresse.
_Flo_. Nay, pray thee, Doctor, speake; is't best in wine or no?
_Doct_. O, good Lort! in vyne: vat else I pray you? you give de vench to
loove vatra? be garre me be ashame of you.
_Flo_. Well, thankes, gentle Doctor. And now (my friends)
I looke to day for strangers of great state,
And must crave libertie to provide for them.
Painter, goe leave your worke, and you, _Lucilia_,
Keepe you (I charge you) in your chamber close.
[_Exeunt Cass. and Lucilia_.
_Haunce_, see that all things be in order set
Both for our Musicke and our large Carowse,
That (after our best countrie fashion)
I may give entertainment to the Prince.
_Han_. One of your Hault-boyes (sir) is out of tune.
_Flo_. Out of tune, villaine? which way?
_Han_. Drunke (sir), ant please you?
_Flo_. Ist night with him alreadie?--Well, get other Musicke.
_Han_. So we had need in truth, sir.
[_Exit Hans_.
_Doct_. Me no trouble you by my fait, me take my leave: see, de
unmannerlie Marshan staie, by garr. [_Exit_.
_Mar_. Sir, with your leave Ile choose some other time
When I may lesse offend you with my staie. [_Exit_.
_Flo_. _Albertus_, welcome.--And now, _Cornelia_,
Are we alone? looke first; I, all is safe.
Daughter, I charge thee now even by that love
In which we have been partiall towards thee
(Above thy sister, blest with bewties guifts)
Receive this vertuous powder at my hands,
And (having mixt it in a bowle of Wine)
Give it unto the Prince in his carowse.
I meane no villanie heerein to him
But love to thee wrought by that charmed cup.
We are (by birth) more noble then our fortunes;
Why should we, then, shun any meanes we can
To raise us to our auncient states againe?
Thou art my eldest care, thou best deserv'st
To have thy imperfections helpt by love.
_Corn_. Then, father, shall we seeke sinister meanes
Forbidden by the lawes of God and men?
Can that love prosper which is not begun
By the direction of some heavenly fate?
_Flo_. I know not; I was nere made Bishop yet;
I must provide for mine, and still preferre
(Above all these) the honour of my house:
Come, therefore, no words, but performe my charge.
_Cor_. If you will have it so I must consent.
[_Exeunt_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Alberdure, Hyanthe, Leander and Moth_.
_Alber_. My deere _Hyanthe_, my content, my life,
Let no new fancie change thee from my love;
And for my rivall (whom I must not wrong,
Because he is my father and my Prince)
Give thou him honour but give me thy love.
O that my rivall bound me not in dutie
To favour him, then could I tell _Hyanthe_
That he alreadie (with importun'd suite)
Hath to the _Brunswick_ Dutchesse vow'd himselfe,
That his desires are carelesse and his thoughts
Too fickle and imperious for love:
But I am silent, dutie ties my tongue.
_Hya_. Why? thinks my joy, my princely _Alderbure_,
_Hyanthes_ faith stands on so weake a ground,
That it will fall or bend with everie winde?
No stormes or lingring miseries shall shake it,
Much lesse vaine titles of commaunding love.
_Moth_. Madam, dispatch him then, rid him out of this earthlie
purgatorie; for I have such a coile with him a nights, grunting and
groaning in his sleepe, with "O, _Hyanthe_! my deare _Hyanthe_! And
then hee throbs me in his armes, as if he had gotten a great Jewell
by the eare.
_Alber_. Away, you wag.--And tell me now, my love,
What is the cause Earle _Cassimere_ (your father)
Hath been so long importunate with me
To visit _Flores_ the brave Jeweller?
_Hyan_. My father doth so dote on him, my Lord,
That he thinkes he doth honour every man
Whom he acquaints with his perfections.
Therefore (in any wise) prepare your selfe
To grace and sooth his great conceit of him;
For everie jesture, everie word he speakes,
Seemes to my father admirablie good.
_Lean_. Indeed, my Lord, his high conceipt of him
Is more then any man alive deserves.
He thinkes the Jeweller made all of Jewels,
Who, though he be a man of gallant spirit,
Faire spoken and well furnisht with good parts,
Yet not so peerleslie to be admir'd.
_Enter Cassimere_.
_Cass_. Come, shall we go (my Lord); I dare assure you
You shall beholde so excellent a man,
For his behaviour, for his sweete discourse,
His sight in Musick and in heavenlie Arts,
Besides the cunning judgement of his eie
In the rare secrets of all precious Jemmes,
That you will sorrow you have staide so long.
_Alber_. Alas, whie would not then your lordships favor
Hasten me sooner? for I long to see him
On your judiciall commendation.
_Cass_. Come, lets away then: go you in, _Hyanthe_,
And if my Lord the Duke come in my absence
See him (I pray) with honour entertain'd.
[_Exeunt_.
_Hya_. I will, my Lord.
_Leand_. I will accompanie your Ladiship,
If you vouchsafe it.
_Hya_. Come, good _Leander_.
[_Exeunt_.
[SCENE 3.]
_Enter Constantine, Katherine, Ite,
Vandercleeve, with others_.
_Const_. Lord _Vandercleeve_, go Lord Ambassadour
From us to the renowmed Duke of _Saxon_,
And know his highnesse reason and intent
Whie being (of late) with such importunate suite
Betroth'd to our faire sister _Dowager_
Of this our Dukedome, he doth now protract
The time he urged with such speede of late
His honourd nuptiall rites to celebrate.
_Kath_. But, good my Lord, temper your Ambassie
With such respective termes to my renowme
That I be cleer'd of all immodest haste
To have our promist nuptials consummate;
For his affects (perhaps) follow the season,
Hot with the summer then, now colde with winter:
And Dames (though nere so forward in desire)
Must suffer men to blowe the nuptiall fire.
_Vander_. Madam, your name (in urging his intent)
Shall not be usd, but your right princely brothers;
Who, knowing it may breede in vulgar braines
(That shall give note to this protraction)
Unjust suspition of your sacred vertues,
And other reasons touching the estate
Of both their famous Dukedomes, sendeth mee
To be resolv'd of his integritie.
_Const_. To that end go, my honourable Lord,
Commend me and my sister to his love
(If you perceive not he neglects our owne)
And bring his princelie resolution.
_Kat_. Commend not me by any meanes, my lord,
Unlesse your speedie graunted audience
And kind entreatie make it requisite,
For honour rules my nuptiall appetite.
[_Exeunt_.
_Finis Actus Primi_.
_Actus Secundus_.
_Enter Haunce, Lassingbergh and others following,
serving in a Bancket_.
_Han_. Come, sir, it is not your painting alone makes your absolute man;
ther's as fine a hand to be requir'd in carrying a dish, and as sweete
arte to be shew'd in't as in any maister peece whatsoever; better then
as you painted the Doctor eene now with his nose in an Urinall.
_Lass_. Be quiet, sir, or ile paint you by and by eating my maisters
comfets. [_Exit_.
_Enter Flores, Cassimeere, Alberdure, Cornelia, and Moth.
Flor_. Prince _Alberdure_, my great desire to aunswere
The greatnes of your birth and high deserts
With entertainment fitting to your state
Makes althings seem too humble for your presence.
_Alber_. Courteous S. _Flores_, your kinde welcome is
Worthy the presence of the greatest Prince,
And I am bound to good Earle _Cassimeere_
For honouring me with your desierd acquaintance.
_Cass_. Wilt please you therefore to draw neere, my lord?
_Flo_. Wilt please your grace to sit?
_Alber_. No, good S. _Flores_; I am heere admiring
The cunning strangenes of your antick worke:
For though the generall tract of it be rough
Yet is it sprinckled with rare flowers of Art.
See what a livelie piercing eye is here;
Marke the conveiance of this lovelie hand;
Where are the other parts of this rare cheeke?
Is it not pittie that they should be hid?
_Flo_. More pittie 'tis (my lord) that such rare art
Should be obscur'd by needie povertie;
Hee's but a simple man kept in my house.
_Alber_. Come, sirra, you are a practitioner,
Lets have your judgement here.
_Han_. Will you have a stoole, sir?
_Moth_. I, and I thanke you too, sir.
_Flo_. Hath this young Gentleman such skill in drawing?
_Alber_. Many great maisters thinke him (for his yeares)
Exceeding cunning.
_Cass_. Now, sir, what thinke you?
_Moth_. My Lord, I thinke more Art is shaddowed heere
Then any man in _Germanie_ can shew
Except Earle _Lassingbergh_; and (in my conceipt)
This work was never wrought without his hand.
_Flo_. Earle _Lassingbergh_! Aye me, my jealous thoughts
Suspect a mischiefe which I must prevent.
_Haunce_, call _Lucilia_ and the Painter strait,
Bid them come both t'attend us at our feast.--
Is not your Grace yet wearie of this object?
Ile shew your Lordship things more woorth the sight
Both for their substance and their curious Art.
_Alber_. Thankes, good sir _Flores_.
_Flo_. See, then, (my Lord) this Aggat that containes
The image of that Goddesse and her sonne,
Whom auncients held the Soveraignes of Love;
See naturally wrought out of the stone
(Besides the perfect shape of every limme,
Besides the wondrous life of her bright haire)
A waving mantle of celestiall blew
Imbroydering it selfe with flaming Starres.
_Alber_. Most excellent: and see besides (my Lords)
How _Cupids_ wings do spring out of the stone
As if they needed not the helpe of Art.
_Flo_. My Lord, you see all sorts of Jewells heere,
I will not tire your grace with view of them;
Ile onely shew you one faire Aggat more,
Commended chiefely for the workmanship.
_Alber_. O excellent! this is the very face
Of _Cassimeere_: by viewing both at once,
Either I thinke that both of them do live
Or both of them are Images and dead.
_Flo_. My Lord, I feare I trouble you too long:
Wilt please your Lordships taste th[e]is homely cates?
_Corn_. First (if it please you) give me leave to greete
Your Princely hand with this unworthy gift,
Yet woorthy since it represents your selfe.
_Alber_. What? my selfe, Lady? trust me it is pittie
So faire a Jemme should hold so rude a picture.
_Cor_. My Lord, 'tis made a Jewell in your picture,
Which otherwise had not deserv'd the name.
_Alber_. Kinde mistresse, kindly I accept your favor.
_Enter Lassingbergh, Haunce and Lucilia_.
_Flo_. Heere, you young gentleman; do you know this man?
[_Exit Han_.
_Mot_. Yes, signior _Flores_, 'tis Earle _Lassingbergh_.--My lord, what
meane you to come this disguisd?
_Lu_. Aye me!
_Lass_. The foolish boye is mad; I am _Cornelius_. Earle _Lassingbergh_?
I never heard of him.
_Flo_. O _Lassingbergh_, we know your villainie,
And thy dishonour (fond _Lucilia_).
Asse that I was, dull, sencelesse, grosse braynd fool
That dayly saw so many evident signes
Of their close dealings, winckings, becks and touches,
And what not? To enforce me to discerne,
Had I not been effatuate even by Fate.
Your presence, noble Lords (in my disgrace)
Doth deepely moove mee, and I heere protest
Most solemnly (in sight of heaven and you)
That if Earle _Lassingbergh_ this day refuse
To make faire mends for this fowle trespasse done,
I will revenge me on his treacherous heart
Though I sustaine for him a thousand deaths.
_Cass_. This action (traitour _Lassingbergh_) deserves
Great satisfaction or else great revenge.
_Alber_. Beleeve me, gallant Earle, your choice is faire.
And worthy your most honourable love.
_Lassin_. My Lord, it greeves me to be thus unmaskt
And made ridiculous in the stealth of love;
But (for _Lucilias_ honour) I protest
(Not for the desperate vowe that _Flores_ made)
She was my wife before she knew my love,
By secret promise made in sight of heaven.
The marriage which he urgeth I accept,
But this compulsion and unkinde disgrace
Hath altered the condition of my love
And filde my heart with yrksome discontent.
_Flor_. My Lord, I must preferre mine honour still
Before the pleasure of the greatest Monarch,
Which since your Lordship seekes to gratifie
With just and friendly satisfaction,
I will endeavour to redeeme the thought
Of your affection and lost love to us.
Wilt please you therefore now to associate
This woorthy Prince at this unwoorthy banquet?
_Alber_. My Lord, let me intreate your company.
_Lassin_. Hold mee excusd, faire Prince; my grieved thoughts
Are farre unmeete for festivall delights:
Heere will I sit and feede on melancholie,
A humour (now) most pleasing to my taste.
_Flor_. _Lucilia_, waite the pleasure of your love.
My Lord, now to the banquet:
Daughter, commaund us a carowse of wine.
[_Musick sounds awhile; and they sing
Boire a le Fountaine_.
My Lord, I greete you with this first carowse,
And as this wine (the Elements sweete soule)
Shall grow in me to bloud and vitall spirit,
So shall your love and honor grow in me.
_Alber_. I pledge you, sir.
_Cass_. How like you him, my Lord?
_Alber_. Exceeding well. [_Sing boyre a le fountaine_.
_Flor_. _Cornelia_, do you serve the Prince with wine?
[_Shee puts the powder into the Cup and gives it the Prince_.
_Alber_. I thanke you, Lady;
Earle _Cassimeere_, I greete you, and remember
Your faire _Hyanthe_.
_Cass_. I thanke your honour.
[_Sing boyre a &c_.
_Flor_. Fill my Lord _Cassimere_ his right of wine.
_Cass_. _Cornelia_, I give you this dead carowse.
_Corn_. I thanke your Lordship.
[_Sing boyre a &c_.
_Alber_. What smoake? smoake and fire.
_Cass_. What meanes your honour?
_Alber_. Powder, powder, _Etna_, sulphure, fier: quench it, quench it.
_Flor_. I feare the medcine hath distemper'd him.--O villaine Doctor!
_Alber_. Downe with the battlements, powre water on!
I burne, I burne; O give me leave to flie
Out of these flames, these fiers that compasse me.
[_Exit_.
_Cass_. What an unheard off accident is this?
Would God, friend _Flores_, t'had not happen'd here.
_Flor_. My Lord, 'tis sure some Planet[53] striketh him;
No doubt the furie will away againe.
_Cass_. Ile follow him. [_Exit_.
_Lass_. What hellish spright ordain'd this hatefull feast
That ends with horror thus and discontent?
_Flor_. I hope no daunger will succeede therein;
However, I resolve me to conceale it.--
My Lord, wilt please you now to change this habit,
And deck your selfe with ornaments more fit
For celebration of your marriage?
_Lass_. I, I, put on me what attire you will;
My discontent, that dwels within me still.
[_Exeunt_
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Haunce solus_.
_Hans_. Whom shall a man trust? a Painter? No: a servant? No:
a bed fellowe? No:
For, seeming for to see, it falls out right:
All day a Painter, and an Earle at night.
_Enter Doctor_.
_Doct_. Ho, _Zaccharee_, bid _Ursula_ brushe my two, tree fine Damaske
gowne; spread de rishe coverlet on de faire bed; vashe de fine plate;
smoake all de shambra vit de sweete perfume.
_Hans_. Heer's the Doctor: what a gaping his wisedom keepes i'the
streete! As if he could not have spoken all this within.
_Doct_. Ho, _Zaccharee_, if de grand patient come, you finde me signior
_Flores_.
_Hans_. By your leave, maister Doctor.
_Doct_. _Hans_, my very speciall friend; fait and trot, me be right
glad for see you veale.
_Hans_. What, do you make a Calfe of me, M. Doctor?
_Doct_. O no, pardona moy; I say vell, be glad for see you vell, in good
health.
_Hans_. O, but I am sick, M. Doctor; very exceeding sick, sir.
_Doct_. Sick? tella me, by garr; me cure you presently.
_Hans_. A dead palsey, M. Doctor, a dead palsey.
_Doct_. Veare? veare?
_Hans_. Heere, M. Doctor; I cannot feele, I cannot feele.
_Doct_. By garr, you be de brave, merry man; de fine proper man; de very
fine, brave, little, propta sweet Jack man; by garr, me loov'a you, me
honour you, me kisse'a your foote.
_Hans_. You shall not stoope so lowe, good M. Doctor; kisse higher if it
please you.
_Doct_. In my trot me honour you.
_Hans_. I, but you give me nothing, sir.
_Doct_. No? by garr, me giv'a de high commendation passe all de gold,
precious pearle in de vorld.
_Hans_. I, sir, passe by it, you meane so, sir. Well, I shall have your
good word, I see, M. Doctor.
_Doct_. I sayt.
_Hans_. But not a rag of money.
_Doct_. No, by my trot, no point money; me give de beggra de money, no
point de brave man.
_Hans_. Would I were not so brave in your mouth.--But I can tell you
newes, maister Doctor.
_Doct_. Vat be dat?
_Hans_. The young Prince hath drunke himselfe mad at my maisters to day.
_Doct_. By garr, drunke, I tinck.
_Hans_. No, sir, starke mad; he cryes out as if the towne were a fier.
_Doct_. By garr, me suspect a ting.
_Hans_. Nay, I can tell you more newes yet.
_Doct_. Vat newes?
_Hans_. If your cap be of capacitie to conceive it now, so it is. Ile
deale with you by way of Interrogation:--
_Who is it must marry with_ Lucilia _bright?
All day a Painter, and an Earle at night_.
_Doct_. By garr, me no conceive vatt you say.
_Hans_. Let wisdome answer: _I aske what is man?
A Pancake tost in Fortune's frying pan_.
_Doct_. Vat frying pan? by garr, I tinck de foolish petit Jack is madd.
_Hans_. _For, as an Asse may weare a Lyons skinne,
So noble Earles have sometimes Painters binne_.
_Doct_. Garrs blurr, he ryme de grand Rats[54] from my house: me no stay,
me go seek 'a my faire _Cornelia_. [_Exit_.
_Hans_. Farewell Doctor Doddy, in minde and in body
An excellent Noddy:
A cockscomb[55] incony, but that he wants mony
To give _legem pone_.
O what a pittifull case is this! What might I have done with this wit
if my friends had bestowed learning upon me? Well, when all's don, a
naturall guift is woorth all.
[_Exit_.
[SCENE 3.]
_Enter Alphonso, Hardenbergh, Hoscherman, with others, &c_.
_Hard_. The Ambassador of _Brunswick_ (good my lord)
Begins to murmure at his long delayes?
_Hosc_. Twere requisit your highnes wold dismisse him.
_Alph_. Who holds him? let him go.
_Hard_. My Lord, you know his message is more great
Then to depart so slightly without answer,
Urging the marriage that your grace late sought
With _Katherine_, sister to the Saxon Duke.
_Hosk_. Whom if your highnes should so much neglect
As to forsake his sister and delude him,
Considering already your olde jarre
With the stoute _Lantsgrave_, what harmes might ensue?
_Alph_. How am I crost? _Hyanthe_ 'tis for thee
That I neglect the Duchesse and my vowes.
_Hard_. My Lord, twere speciallie convenient
Your grace would satisfie th'embassador.
_Alph_. Well, call him in.
_Hosk_. But will your Highnes then
Forsake _Hyanthe_?
_Alph_. Nothing lesse, _Hosk[erman_].
_Hosk_. How will you then content th'embassadour?
_Alph_. I will delaie him with some kinde excuse.
_Hard_. What kinde excuse, my Lord?
_Alph_. For that let me alone; do thou but soothe
What I my selfe will presently devise
And I will send him satisfied away.
_Hard_. Be sure (my Lord) Ile soothe what ere you say.
_Alph_. Then let them come, we are provided for them.
_Enter Vandercleeve the Ambassador attended_.
My lord Ambassador, we are right sorrie
Our urgent causes have deferd you thus
In the dispatch of that we most desire.
But for your answer: know I am deterr'd
By many late prodigious ostents
From present consumation of the nuptials
Vowd twixt your beauteous Dutchesse and our selfe.
O what colde feare mens jealous stomacks feele
In that they most desire! suspecting still
'Tis eyther too too sweete to take effect
Or (in th'effect) must meete with some harshe chaunce
To intervent the joye of the successe.
The same wisht day (my Lord) you heere arriv'd
I bad Lord _Hardenbergh_ commaund two horse
Should privately be brought for me and him,
To meete you on the waye for honours sake
And to expresse my joye of your repaire:
When (loe!) the horse I us'd to ride upon
(That would be gently backt at other times)
Now, offring but to mount him, stood aloft,
Flinging and bound. You know, Lord _Hardenbergh_.
_Hard_. Yes, my good Lord.
_Alph_. And was so strangely out of wonted rule
That I could hardlie back him.
_Hard_. True, my liege;
I stood amaz'd at it.
_Hard_. Well, yet I did,
And riding (not a furlong) downe he fell.
_Hard_. That never heeretofore would trip with him.
_Alph_. Yet would I forward needs, but _Hardenbergh_.
More timorous then wise, as I supposed,
(For love so hardned me feare was my slave)
Did ominate such likelie ill to me
If I went forward, that with much enforcement
Of what might chance he drave me to retreat.
Didst thou not _Hardenbergh_.
_Hard_. I did, my Lord.
_Alph_. I warrant thou wilt say
Thou never yet saw'st any man so loathe
To be perswaded ill of so ill signes.
_Hard_. Never in all my life.
_Alph_. Thou wonderst at it?
_Hard_. I did indeed, my liege, not without cause.
_Alph_. O blame not, _Hardenbergh_, for thou dost know
How sharpe my heart was set to entertaine
The Lord of this Ambassage lovingly.
_Hard_. True, my good Lord.
_Alph_. But (coming back) how gently the Jade went,--
Did he not, _Hardenbergh_?
_Hard_. As any horse on earth could do, my Lord.
_Alph_. Well, sir, this drew me into deepe conceit,
And to recomfort me I did commaund
Lord _Hardenbergh_ should ope a Cabanet
Of my choise Jewels and to bring me thence
A ring, a riche and Violet _Hiacinthe_,
Whose sacred vertue is to cheere the heart
And to excite our heavie spirits to mirthe;
Which[56], putting on my finger, swift did breake.
Now this, indeed, did much discomfort me,
And heavie to the death I went to bed;
Where in a slumber I did strongly thinke
I should be married to the beautious Dutchesse,
And coming to my Chappell to that end,
Duke _Constantine_ her brother with his Lords
And all our peeres (me thought) attending us,
Forth comes my princelie _Katherine_ led by death,
Who threatening me stood close unto her side,
Urging by those most horrible portents
That wedding her I married mine owne death.
I, frighted in my sleepe, struggled and sweat,
And in the violence of my thoughts cryed out
So lowde that _Hardenberghe_ awakt and rose.
Didst thou not _Hardenberghe_?
_Hard_. I felt I did, for never yet (my Lord)
Was I in heart and soule so much dismaide.
_Alph_. Why thus you see (my Lord) how your delaies
Were mightilie and with huge cause enforste.
_Amb_. But dreames (my lord) you know growe by the humors
Of the moist night, which, store of vapours lending
Unto our stomaches when we are in sleepe
And to the bodies supreame parts ascending,
Are thence sent back by coldnesse of the braine,
And these present our idle phantasies
With nothing true but what our labouring soules
Without their active organs safelie worke.
_Alph_. My lord, know you there are two sorts of dreams,
One sort whereof are onely phisicall,
And such are they whereof your Lordship speakes;
The other Hiper-phisicall, that is
Dreames sent from heaven or from the wicked fiends,
Which nature doth not forme of her owne power
But are extrinsecate, by marvaile wrought;
And such was mine. Yet, notwithstanding this,
I hope fresh starres will governe in the spring;
And then, assure your princelie friend your maister,
Our promise in all honour shall be kept.
Returne this answere, Lord Ambassador,
And recommend me to my sacred love.
_Amb_. I will, my lord; but how it will be accepted
I know not yet; your selfe shall shortly heare.
_Alph_. Lords, some of you associate him.--Ha, ha!
[_Exeunt all but Alph_. [_and Hard_.
_Hard_. Exceeding well and gravelie good, my lord.
_Alph_. Come, lets go and visit my _Hianthe_,
She whose perfections are of power to moove
The thoughts of _Caesar_ (did he live) to love.
[_Exeunt_.
_Finis Actus Secundus_.
_Actus Tertius_.
_Enter Flores, Cassimeere, Lassing., Lucil., Cor., Han., and Doct_.
_Ha_. Well, mistr., God give you more joy of your husband then your
husband has of you.
_Doct_. Fie, too, too bad by my fait. Vat, my lord? melancholie? and ha
de sweete Bride, de faire Bride, de verie fine Bride? ô monsieur, one,
two, tree, voure, vive, with de brave capra, heigh!
_Han_. O the Doctor would make a fine frisking usher in a dauncing
schoole.
_Doct_. O by garr, you must daunce de brave galliarr.
A pox of dis melancholie!
_Cass_. My Lord, your humors are most strange to us,
The humble fortune of a servants life
Should in your carelesse state so much displease.
_Lass_. _Quod licet ingratum est, quod non licet acrius urit_.
_Flor_. Could my childes beautie moove you so, my lord,
When Lawe and dutie held it in restraint,
And now (they both allowe it) be neglected?
_Lass_. I cannot rellish joyes that are enforst;
For, were I shut in Paradice it selfe,
I should as from a prison strive t'escape.
_Luc_. Haplesse _Luci[li]a_, worst in her best estate!
_Lass_. He seeke me out some unfrequented place
Free from these importunities of love,
And onelie love what mine owne fancie likes.
_Luc_. O staie, my Lord.
_Flor_. What meanes Earle _Lassenbergh_?
_Cass_. Sweete Earle, be kinder.
_Lass_. Let me go, I pray.
_Doct_. Vat? you go leave a de Bride? tis no point good fashion;
you must stay, be garr.
_Lass_. Must I stay, sir?
_Doct_. I spit your nose, and yet it is no violence. I will give a de
prove a dee good reason. Reguard, Monsieur: you no point eate a de meate
to daie, you be de empty; be gar you be emptie, you be no point vel; be
garr you be vere sick, you no point leave a de provision; be garr you
stay, spit your nose.
_Lass_. All staies have strength like to thy arguments.
_Cass_. Staie, _Lassenbergh_.
_Luc_. Deare Lord.
_Flo_. Most honord Earle.
_Lass_. Nothing shall hinder my resolved intent,
But I will restlesse wander from the world
Till I have shaken off these chaines from me.
[_Exit La_.
_Luc_. And I will never cease to follow thee
Till I have wonne thee from these unkinde thoughts.
_Cass_. Haplesse _Lucilia_! [_Exit Luc_.
_Flor_. Unkinde _Lassenbergh_!
_Doct_. Be garr, dis Earle be de chollericke complection, almost
skipshack, be garr: he no point staie for one place. Madame, me be no so
laxative; mee be bound for no point moove six, seaven, five hundra yeare
from you sweete sidea; be garr, me be as de fine _Curianet_ about your
vite necke; my harte be close tie to you as your fine Buske or de fine
Gartra boute your fine legge.
_Hans_. A good sencible Doctor; how feelinglie he talkes.
_Doct_. A plage a de Marshan! blowe wind!
_Han_. You need not curse him, sir; he has the stormes at Sea by this
time.
_Doct_. O _forte bien_! a good Sea-sick jeast by this faire hand: blowe
wind for mee! puh, he no come heere, Madame.
_Flo_. Come, noble Earle, let your kind presence grace
Our feast prepard for this obdurate Lord,
And give some comfort to his sorrowfull bride
Who in her pitteous teares swims after him.
_Doct_. Me beare you company, signior _Flores_.
_Flor_. It shall not need, sir.
_Doct_. Be garr, dis be de sweet haven for me for anchor.
_Flor_. You are a sweet smell-feast,[57] Doctor; that I see.
Ile [have] no such tub-hunters use my house.
Therefore be gone, our marriage feast is dasht.
_Doct_. Vat speake a me de feast? me spurne a, me kick a de feast; be
garr, me tell a me do de grand grace, de favor for suppa, for dina, for
eata with dee; be garrs blur, we have at home de restorative, de
quintessence, de pure destill goulde, de Nector, de Ambrosia.
_Zacharee_, make ready de fine partricke, depaste de grand _Otamon_.
_Han_. _Zacharee_ is not heere, sir, but Ile do it for you. What is that
_Otomon_, sir?
_Doct_. O de grand Bayaret de Mahomet, de grand Turgur, be garr.
_Ha_. O a Turkie, sir, you would have rosted, would you? Call you him
an _Otoman_?
_Doct_. Have de whole ayre of Fowle at commaund?
_Flor_. You have the foole[58] at command, sir: you might have bestowed
your selfe better. Wil't[59] please you walke, M. Doct. Dodypoll.
[_Exeunt all but the Doctor_.
_Doct_. How? Doddie poole? garrs blurr, Doctor Doddie, no point poole.
You be paltrie Jacke knave, by garr: de doctor is nicast, de doctor is
rage, de doctor is furie, be gar, the doctor is horrible, terrible
furie. Vell, derre be a ting me tinke; be gars blur, me know, me be
revenge me tella de Duke. Vell, me say no more: chok a de selfe, foule
churle, fowle, horrible, terrible pigge, pye Cod.
[_Exit_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Lea_. I wonder what varietie of sights
Retaines your father and the prince so long
With signior _Flores_?
_Hya_. O signior _Flores_ is a man so ample
In every complement of entertainement,
That guests with him are, as in Bowers enchanted,
Reft of all power and thoughts of their returne.
_Enter the Duke and Hardenbergh_.
_Lean_. Be silent, heere's the Duke.
_Alp_. Aye me beholde
Your sonne, Lord _Hardenbergh_, courting _Hyanthe_.
_Har_. If he be courting tis for you, my liege.
_Alph_. No, _Hardenbergh_; he loves my sonne too well
--My faire _Hyanthie_, what discourse is it
Wherewith _Leander_ holdes you this [thus?] attentive?
Would I could thinke upon the like for you.
_Hya_. You should but speake and passe the time, my lord.
_Alp_. Passe-time that pleaseth you is the use of time:
Had I the ordering of his winged wheele
It onely should serve your desires and mine.
What should it do if you did governe it.
_Hya_. It should go backe againe and make you yong.
_Alph_. Swounds, _Hardenbergh_.
_Hard_. To her againe, my Lord.
_Alp_. _Hyanthe_, wouldst thou love me, I would use thee
So kindlie that nothing should take thee from me.
_Hya_. But time would soone take you from me, my lord.
_Alp_. Spight on my soule: why talke I more of time?
Shee's too good for me at time, by heaven.
_Har_. I, and place to (my Lord) I warrant her.
_Omnes_. Stop, stop, stop!
_Enter Alberdure mad; Motto and others following him_.
_Mott_. O stay, my Lord.
_Albe_. _Hyanthe, Hyanthe_, ô me, my love!
_Lea_. Heer's the Duke his father, heele marr all.
_Albe_. O villaine, he that lockt her in his arms
And through the river swims along with her.
Staie, traiterous _Nessus_, give me bowes and shafts.
Whirre! I have strooke him under the shorte ribs:
I come, _Hyanthe_! O peace, weepe no more. [_Exit_.
_Alp_. Meanes he not me by _Nessus, Hardenbergh_?
_Hard_.[60] My lord, he is surelie mad.
_Alph_. _Hyanthe_ loves him:
See how she trembles and how pale she lookes!
She hath enchanted my deere _Alderbure_
With crafts and treasons and most villanous Arts
Are meanes by which shee seekes to murder him.
_Hardenbergh_, take her and imprison her
Within thy house: I will not loose my sonne
For all the wealth the Loves of heaven embrace.
_Hya_. What meanes your grace by this?
_Alp_. Away with her!
_Hya_. You offer me intolerable wrong.
_Alp_. Away with her, I say.
_Har_. Come Ladie, feare not, Ile entreate you well.
_Hya_. What injurie is this!
[_Exit Hard. with Hyan_.
_Alph_. So now I have obtainde what I desir'd,
And I shall easilie worke her to my will;
For she is in the hands of _Hardenbergh_
Who will continually be pleading for me.
_Enter Doctor_.
_Doct_. Roome! a halle, a hall! be garr, vere is de Duke?
_Alp_. Heere, maister Doctor.
_Doct_. O we have grand important matter for tella your grace how de
know de cause for de wish cause your sonne is da madman.
_Enter Alberdure running_.
_Alb_. What? art thou heere? sweete _Clio_, come, be bright;
Take me thy Timbrell and Tobaccho pipe,
And give _Hyanthe_ musicke at her windowe.
_Doct_. Garrs blurr, my cap, my cap, cost me de deale a French crowne.
_Alb_. But I will crown thee with a cod of Muske,
Instead of Lawrell, and a Pomander[61]:
But thou must write _Acrostignues_ first, my girle.
_Doct_. Garzowne, what a pox do you stand heere for, de grand poltrone
pezant, and see de Doctor be dus?
_Alb_. Aye me, what _Demon_ was it guide me thus?
This is _Melpomene_, that Scottish witch[62],
Whom I will scratche like to some villanous gibb,
And--
_Doct_. O Garzowne, la diabole, la pestilence, gars blur!
_Alp_. Lay holde upon him, helpe the Doctor there!
_Alb_. Then reason's fled to animals, I see,
And I will vanish like Tobaccho smoake. _Exit_.
_Doct_. A grand pestilence a dis furie
_Alp_. Follow him, sirs, _Leander_, good _Leander_!
But, Doctor, canst thou tell us the true cause
Of this suddaine frenzie?
_Doct_. O by garr, pleaze your grace heare de long tale [or] de short
tale?
_Alp_. Briefe as you can, good Doctor.
_Doct_. Faite and trot, briefe den, very briefe, very laccingue. De
Prince, your sonne, feast with de knave Jeweller, _Flores_, and he for
make a Prince love a de foule croope-shouldra daughter _Cornelia_, give
a de prince a de love poudra which my selfe give for the wenche a before,
and make him starke madde be garr because he drinke a too much a.
_Alp_. How know you this?
_Doct_. Experience teach her, by garr; de poudra have grand force for
inflama de bloud, too much make a de rage and de present furie: be garr,
I feare de mad man as de devilla, garr blesse a.
_Enter Hardenbergh_.
_Alp_. How now, sweete _Hardenbergh_?
_Har_. The Prince, my Lord, in going downe the staires
Hath forst an Axe[63] from one of the Trevants (?),
And with it (as he runnes) makes such cleare way
As no man dare oppose him to his furie.
_Alp_. Aye me, what may I do? heere are such newes
As never could have entred our free ears
But that their sharpnesse do enforce a passage.
Follow us, Doctor; 'tis _Flores_ treacherie
That thus hath wrought my sonnes distemperature.
_Exit [Alph_.
_Hard_. _Flores_, the Jeweller?
_Doct_. I, he, dat fine precious stone knave: by garr,
I tinke I shall hit upon hir skirt till be thred bare new.
_Exit [Doct with Hard_.
[SCENE 3.]
_Musicke playing within. Enter a Peasant_.
_Pes_. 'Tis night, and good faith I am out of my way.
O harke; What brave musick is this under the green hill?
_Enter Fairies bringing in a banquet_.
O daintie, O rare, a banquet! would to Christ
I were one of their guests. Gods ad, a fine little
Dapper fellow has spyed me: What will he doo?
He comes to make me drinke: I thanke you, Sir.
Some of your victuals, I pray; Sir; nay now keepe
your meate, I have enough I; the cup, I faith.
_Exit_.
_Enter the spirit with banquetting stuffe, and missing
the pesant, lookes up and downe for him; the rest
wondering at him; to them enters the Enchanter_.
_Ench_. Where is my precious cup, you Antique flames?
Tis thou that hast convaide it from my bowre,
And I will binde thee in some hellish cave
Till thou recover it againe for me.
You that are bodyes made of lightest ayre,
To let a Peasant mounted on a Jade
Coozen your curtesies and run away
With such a Jewell, worthy are to endure
Eternall pennance in the lake of fier.
_Enter Lass. and Lucilia_.
_Lass_. Wilt thou not cease then to pursue me still?
Should I entreate thee to attend me thus,
Then thou wouldst pant and rest, then thy soft feete
Would be repining at these niggard stones:
Now I forbid thee, thou pursuest like winde,
Ne tedious space of time nor storme can tire thee.
But I will seeke out some high slipperie close[64]
Where every step shall reache the gate of death,
That feare may make thee cease to follow me.
_Luc_. There will I bodilesse be when you are there,
For love despiseth death and scorneth feare.
_Lass_. Ile wander, where some boysterous river parts
This solid continent, and swim from thee.
_Luc_. And there Ile follow though I drown for thee.
_Lass_. But I forbid thee.
_Luc_. I desire thee more.
_Lass_. Art thou so obstinate?
_Luc_. You taught me so.
_Lass_. I see thou lovest me not.
_Luc_. I know I doo.
_Lass_. Do all I bid thee then.
_Luc_. Bid then as I may doo.
_Lass_. I bid thee leave mee.
_Luc_. That I cannot doo.
_Lass_. My hate.
_Luc_. My love.
_Lass_. My torment.
_Luc_. My delight.
_Lass_. Why do I straine to wearie thee with words?
Speech makes thee live; Ile then with silence kill thee,
Henceforth be deafe to thy words and dumbe to thy minde.
_Ench_. What rock hath bred this savage-minded man?
That such true love in such rare beauty shines[65]!
Long since I pittied her; pittie breeds love,
And love commands th'assistance of my Art
T'include them in the bounds of my command.
Heere stay your wandering steps; chime[66] silver strings,
Chime, hollow caves, and chime you whistling reedes,
For musick is the sweetest chime for love.
Spirits, bind him, and let me leave[67] my love.
[SCENE 4.]
_Enter A[l]berdure at one doore, and meetes with
the Pesant at the other doore_.
_Alb_. _Hyanthe_, ô sweet _Hyanthe_, have I met thee?
How is thy beautie changed since our departure!
A beard, _Hyanthe_? ô tis growne with griefe,
But now this love shall tear thy griefe from thee.
_Pes_. A pox on you! What are you? Swounds, I think I am haunted with
spirits.
_Alb_. Weepe not, _Hyanthe_; I will weepe for thee,
Lend me thy eyes. No, villaine, thou art he
That in the top of _Eruines_ hill
Daunst with the Moone and eate up all the starres,
Which made thee like _Hyanthe_ shine so faire;
But, villaine, I will rip them out of thee.
_Enter Motto and others_.
_Pea_. Slid, holde your hands.
_Alb_[68]. I come with thunder.
_Pea_. Come and you dare.
_Mott_. Holde, villaine; tis the young prince _Alberdure_.
_Pea_. Let the young prince hold then; slid, I have no starres in my
bellie, I; let him seeke his _Hyanthe_ where he will.
_Alb_. O this way by the glimmering of the Sunne
And the legieritie[69] of her sweete feete
She scowted on, and I will follow her.
I see her, like a goulden spangle, sit
Upon the curled branch of yonder tree.
Sit still, _Hyanthe_; I will flie to thee.
_Exit_.
_Mott_. Follow, follow, follow!
_Exeunt all but Peas_.
_Enter Flores and Hance_.[70]
_Pea_. Together and be hanged. O heere comes more; pray God I have
better lucke with these two. By your leave, sir, do you know one Maist.
_Flores_, I pray?
_Flo_. What wouldst thou have with him?
_Pea_. Faith, Sir, I am directed to you by Lady Fortune with a peece of
plate. I doe hope you will use plaine dealing, being a Jeweller.
_Flo_. Where hadst thou this?
_Pea_. In a very strange place, sir.
_Han_. He stole it, sir, I warrant you.
_Flo_. I never sawe a Jemme so precious,
So wonderful in substance and in Art.
Fellow, confesse preciselie where thou hadst it.
_Pea_. Faith, sir, I had it in a cave in the bottome of a fine greene
hill where I found a company of Fairies, I thinke they call them.
_Flo_. Sawst thou any more such furniture there?
_Pea_. Store, sir, store.
_Flo_. And canst thou bring me thither?
_Pea_. With a wet finger[71], sir.
_Han_. And ha they good cheere, too?
_Pea_. Excellent.
_Han_. O sweete thiefe!
_Flo_. Tis sure some place enchanted, which this ring
Will soone dissolve and guard me free from feare.
--Heer's for the cup; come, guide me quickly thither.
Ah, could I be possest of more such Jemmes,
I were the wealthiest Jeweller on earth.
_Exeunt_.
[SCENE 5.]
_Enter Enchanter, leading Luc. and Lass. bound by
spirits; who being laid down on a green banck,
the spirits fetch in a bânquet_.