_O princely face and fayre, that lightens all the ayre,
Would God my eyes kind fire might life and soule inspire.
To thy rich beauty shining in my hearts treasure,
The unperfect words refining for perfect pleasure_.
_Ench_. Lie there and lose the memorie of her
Who likewise hath forgot the thought of thee
By my inchantments. Come, sit down, fair Nimphe,
And taste the sweetnesse of these heavenly cates,
Whilst from the hollow cranies[72] of this rocke
Musick shall sound to recreate my love.
But tell me had you ever lover yet?
_Luc_. I had a lover, I thinke, but who it was,
Or when, or how, long since, aye me, I know not.
Yet beat my timerous thoughts on such a thing;
I feele a pasionate hearte but finde no flame,
Thinke what I know not, nor know what I thinke.
_Ench_. Hast thou forgot me, then? I am thy love,
Whom sweetly thou wert wont to entertaine
With lookes, with vowes of love, with amorous kisses.
Lookst thou so strange? dost thou not know me yet?
_Luc_. Sure I should know you.
_Ench_. Why, love? doubt you that?
Twas I that lead you through the painted meadows,
When the light Fairies daunst upon the flowers,
Hanging on every leafe an orient pearle[73]
Which, strooke together with the silver winde
Of their loose mantels, made a silvery chime.
Twas I that winding my shrill bugle horn,
Made a guilt pallace breake out of the hill,
Filled suddenly with troopes of knights and dames
Who daunst and reveld whilste we sweetly slept
Upon a bed of Roses, wrapt all in goulde.
Doost thou not know me yet?
_Luc_. Yes, now I know you.
_Ench_. Come then, confirme thy knowledge with a kiss.
_Luc_. Nay, stay, you are not he: how strange is this!
_Ench_. Thou art growne passing strange, my love,
To him that made thee so long since his bride.
_Luc_. O, was it you? come then. O stay a while:
I know not what[74] I am nor where I am,
Nor you, nor these I know, nor any thing.
_Enter Flores with Hance and the Peasant_.
_Pea_. This is the greene, Sir, where I had the cup,
And this the bottome of a falling hill;
This way I went following the sound. And see--
_Han_. O see, and seeing eate withall.
_Flo_. What? _Lassenbergh_ laid bound, and fond _Lucilia_.
Wantonly feasting by a strangers side!
--Peasant, be gone:
[_Exit Peasant_[75]]
_Hance_, stand you there and stir not.--
Now sparckle forth thy beams, thou vertuous Jemme,
And lo[o]se these strong enchantments.
_Ench_. Stay! aye me,
We are betrai'd! Haste, spirits, and remove
This table and these cups,--remove, I say:
Our incantations strangely are dissolv'd.
_Exeunt Ench. with spirits and banquets_.
_Han_. O spightfull churles! have they caried away all? has haste made
no waste?
_Luc_. My Lord, Earle _Lassenbergh_, ô pardon me.
_Lass_. Away from me.
_Luc_. O can I in these bands?
Forget the dutie of my love to you?
Were they of Iron, or strong Adamant,
My hands should teare them from my wronged Lord.
_Flo_. O, _Lassenbergh_, to what undoubted perrill
Of life and honour had you brought your selfe
By obstinacie of your froward minde,
Had not my fortune brought me to this place
To lo[o]se the enchantment, which enthralled you both,
By hidden vertue of this precious ring.
Come, therefore, friendly and imbrace at last
The living partner of your strange mishaps
Justly pursuing you for flying her.
_Lass_. Leave me, I say; I can endure no more.
_Lu_. Ah, have I loos'd thee then to flie from mee?
_Lass_. Away! [_Exit_.
_Lu_. Ile follow thee,
_Flo_. Tarrie, _Lucilia_.
_Lu_. Deare father, pardon mee. [_Exit_.
_Flo_. Sirrah, attend her.
Poore wretch, I feare this too much love in thee
Is fatall to thee. Up, Sirrah, follow your mistresse.
_Han_. I, sir, I go; my mistresse dogs the banket and I dog her.
[_Exeunt_.
_Finis Actus Tertii_.
[_Actus Quartus_.]
_Enter Motto, Raphe bringing in Alberdure_.
_Motto_. So, sir, lay even downe your handie worke.
_Rap_. Nay, sir, your handie worke, for you were the cause of his
drowning.
_Mot_. I? I defie thee. Wert not thou next him when he leapt into the
River?
_Rap_. O monstrous lyar!
_Mot_. Lye! you peasant, go too: Ile go tell the Duke.
_Rap_. I, sir, Ile go with you, I warrant you.
[_Exeunt_.
_Alb_. What sodain cold is this that makes me shake,
Whose veines even now were fill'd with raging fire?
How am I thus all wet? What water's this
That lies so ycelike, freezing in my blood?
I thinke the cold of it hath cur'd my heate,
For I am better temperd than before.
But in what unacquainted place am I?
0 where is my _Hyanthe_, where's _Leander_?
What, all alone? nothing but woods and streames?
I cannot guesse whence these events should grow.
_Enter Peasant_.
_Pea_. O that I could lose my way for another cup, now. I was well paide
for it yfaith.
_Alb_. Yonder is one; Ile enquire of him. Fellow, ho! peasant!
_Pea_. Aie me, the mad man againe, the mad man.
_Alb_. Saie, whither fliest thou.
_Pea_. Pray, let me goe, sir; I am not _Hyanthe_, in truth I am not,
sir.
_Alb_. _Hyanthe_, villaine? wherfore namest thou her?
_Pea_. If I have any scarres in my belly, pray God I starve, sir.
_Alb_. The wretch is mad, I thinke.
_Pea_. Not I, sir, but you be not madde, you are well amended, sir.
_Alb_. Why tellest thou me of madnesse?
_Pea_. You were little better then mad even now, sir, when you gave me
such a twitch by the beard.
_Alb_. I can remember no such thing, my friend.
_Pea_. No, sir, but if you had a beard you wold.
_Alb_. What place is this? how far am I from court?
_Pea_. Some two myles and a wye byt, sir.
_Alb_. I wonder much my friends have left me thus. Peazant, I pray thee
change apparell with mee.
_Pea_. Change apparell, I faith you will lose by that, sir.
_Alb_. I care not; come, I pray thee, letts change.
_Pea_. With all my heart, sir, and I thanke you, too. Sblood y'are very
moist, sir, did you sweat all this, I pray? you have not the desease, I
hope?
_Alb_. No, I warrant thee.
_Pea_. At a venture, sir, Ile change. Nothing venter, nothing enter.
_Alb_. Come, letts be gone.
_Pea_. Backe, sir, I pray.
[_Exeunt_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Hardenbergh with a guard, bringing in
Cassimere, Flores, Doctor, Marchant, Cornelia,
Motto, and Raphe_.
_Har_. Thus, _Flores_, you apparantly perceive
How vaine was your ambition and what dangers,
All unexpected, fall upon your head,
Povertie, exile, guiltinesse of heart,
And endlesse miserie to you and yours.
Your goods are seized alreadie for the Duke;
And, if Prince _Alberdure_ be found deceast,
The least thou canst expect is banishment.
Earle _Cassimere_, I take[76] your word of pledge
Of his appearance. Pages of the Prince,
Come guide me straight where his drownd bodie lies,
Drownes his father in eternall teares.
[_Exit cum servis; manet Al_.
_Mot_. Drownes him and will hang us.
_Mar_. Good Signior _Flores_, I am sorry for you.
_Doct_. _Marshan_, parle vu pen. Be garr, me vor grand love me beare de
good Mershan, vor de grand worte, be garr, and de grand deserte me sea
in you, de bravea Mershan, me no point rivall; you have _Cornelia_
alone, by my trot, ha, ha, ha!
_Mar_. M. Doctor _Doddie_, surnam'd the Amorous'de, I will overcome you
in curtesie, your selfe shall have her.
_Doct_. No, by garr, Marshan: you bring de fine tings from de strange
land vere de Sunne do rise, de Jewell, de fine stuffe vor de brave
gowne: me no point. Come, by garr, you have _Cornel_.
_Cass_. Hands off, base Doctor! she despiseth thee,
Too good for thee to touch or looke upon.
_Flo_. What wretched state is this, Earle _Cassimere_,
That I and my unhappie progenie
Stand subject to the scornes of such as these!
_Cass_. Grieve not, deare friends, these are but casuall darts.
That wanton Fortune daily casts at those
In whose true bosomes perfect honour growes.
Now, _Dodypoll_, to you: you here refuse
_Cornelias_ marriage? you'le none of her!
_Doct_. Be garr, you be the prophet; not I by my trot.
_Cass_. Nor you, maste[r] merchant? shee's too poore for you!
_Mar_. Not so, sir; but yet I am content to let fall my suite.
_Cass_. _Cornelia_, both dissembled they would have you;
Which like you best?
_Cor_. My Lord, my fortunes are no chusers now,--
Nor yet accepters of discurtesies.
_Cass_. You must chuse one here needs.
_Doct_. By garr, no chuse mee, me clime to heaven, me sincke to hell,
me goe here, me go dare, me no point deere, by garr.
_Cass_. If you will none, whose judgement are too base
To censure true desert, your betters will.
_Flo_. What meanes Lord _Cassimere_ by these strange words?
_Cass_. I mean to take _Cornelia_ to my wife.
_Flo_. Will you, then, in my miserie, mock me too?
_Cass_. I mock my friend in misery? heavens, scorne such!
Halfe my estate and halfe my life is thine;
The rest shall be _Cornelia's_ and mine.
_Doct_. O bitter shame, be garr.
_Flo_. My Lord, I know your noble love to me
And do so highly your deserts esteeme
That I will never yeeld to such a match.
Choose you a beautious dame of high degree
And leave _Cornelia_ to my fate and mee.
_Cass_. Ah, _Flores, Flores_, were not I assured
Both of thy noblenesse, thy birth and merite,
Yet my affection vow'd with friendships toong,
In spite of all base changes of the world
That tread on noblest head once stoopt by fortune
Should love and grace thee to my utmost power.
_Cornelia_ is my wife: what sayes my love?
Cannot thy father's friend entreat so much.
_Cor_. My humble minde can nere presume
To dreame in such high grace to my lowe seate.
_Cass_. My graces are not ordered in my words.
Come love, come friend; for friendship now and love
Shall both be joynde in one eternall league.
_Flo_. O me, yet happy in so true a friend.
[_Exeunt_.
_Doct_. Est possible, by garr? de foole Earle drinke my powder,
I tinke. Mershan tella mee.
_Mar_. What, maister Doctor Doddie?
_Doct_. Hab you de blew and de yellow Velvet, ha?
_Mar_. What of that, sir?
_Doct_. Be gar, me buy too, three peece for make de Cockes-combe pur the
foole Earle, ha, ha, ha! [_Exit_.
_Mer_. Fortune fights lowe when such triumphe on Earles.
[_Exit_.
(SCENE 3.)
_Enter Lassenbergh singing, Lucilia following;
after the song he speakes_.
_Lass_. O wearie of the way and of my life,
Where shall I rest my sorrow-tired[77] limmes!
_Luc_. Rest in my bosome, rest you here, my Lord;
A place securer you can no where finde.
_Lass_. Nor more unfit for my displeased minde.
A heavie slumber calles me to the earth;
Heere will I sleepe, if sleep will harbour heere.
_Luc_. Unhealthful is the melancholic earth:
O let my Lord rest on _Lucilia's_ lappe.
Ile helpe to shield you from the searching ayre
And keepe the colde dampes from your gentle bloud.
_Lass_. Pray thee, away; for, whilst thou art so neere,
No sleepe will seaze on my suspicious eyes.
_Luc_. Sleepe then, and I am pleazd far off to sit
Like to a poore and forlorne Sentinell,
Watching the unthankful sleepe that severs me
From my due part of rest deere love with thee.
_She sits farre off from him_.
_Enter Const. Dutchesse with a willowe garland, cum aliis_.
_Con_. Now are we neere the court of _Saxonie_,
Where the duke dreames such tragicall ostents.
_Amb_. I wonder we, now treading on his soile,
See none of his strange apparitions.
_Kath_. We are not worthy of such meanes divine,
Nor hath heaven care of our poore lives like his.
I must endure the end and show I live
Though this same plaintive wreathe doth show me forsaken.
Come, let us foorth.
_Const_. Stay, sister; what faire sight
Sits mourning in this desolate abode?
_Dut_. Faire sight indeed it is, and much to faire
To sit so sad and solitarie there.
_Con_. But what is he that cur-like sleepes alone?
_Dut_. Look, is it not my Nephew _Lassingbergh_?
_Amb_. Madame, 'tis hee.
_Dut_. Ile sure learne more of this.--
Lady, if strangers that [do] wish you well
May be so bould to aske, pray whats the cause
That you [so] more then strangely sit alone?
_Luc_. Madam, thus must forsaken creatures sit
Whose merits cannot make their loves consort them.
_Dut_. What a poore fellow in my miserie!
Welcome, sweet partner, and of favour tell me,
Is this some friend of yours that slumbers heere?
_Luc_. My husband (madame) and my selfe his friend,
But he of late unfriendly is to me.
_Con_. Sister, lets wake her friend.
_Dut_. No, let him sleepe;
And, gentle dame, if you will be rulde by me,
Ile teach you how to rule your friend in love:
Nor doubt you our acquaintance, for the man
Whom you so much affect is friend to us.
_Shee riseth_.
_Luc_. Pardon me, Madame; now I know your grace.
_Dut_. Then knowst thou one in fortune like thy selfe,
And one that tenders thy state as her owne.
Come, let our Nephew Lassingberg sleepe there,
And, gentle Neace, come you to court with us,
If you dare mixe your loves successe with mine.
I warrant you I counsell for the best.
_Luc_. I must not leave him now (madame) alone,
Whom thus long I have followed with such care.
_Dut_. You wearie him with too much curtesie;
Leave him a little and heele follow you.
_Luc_. I know not what to doo.
_Dut_. Come, come with us.
_Con_. Dame, never fear; get you a Willow w[reath];
The Dutchesse (doubt not) can advise you well.
_Luc_. Lets wake him then, and let him go with [us].
_Dut_. That's not so good; I pray be rulde by me.
_Luc_. Sleep, then, deare love; and let sleep that doth bind
Thy sence so gently, make thee more kinde.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter Hance in the Prince's apparrall, and the Peasant_.
_Pea_. Come, sirra, money for your gentlemans apparel; you promist me
money, sir, but I perceive you forget your selfe.
_Han_. True, pride makes a man forget himselfe; and I have quite forgot
that I owe thee any.
_Pea_. But Ile put you in minde, sir, if there be any sergeants in
_Saxonie_; I thinke I meane not to loose so much by you.
_Han_. Why, I have lost a maister and a mistresse, and yet I aske thee
no money for them.
_Pea_. I bought them not of you, sir; therefore pay me my money.
_Han_. I will pay thee morningly every morning as long as thou livest;
looke in thy right shooe and thou shalt finde sixe pence.
_Pea_. What a fowle knave and fairie! Well, use thy conscience: I thanke
God I stand in neede of no such trifles. I have another jewell heere
which I found in the Princes pocket when I chang'd apparell with him;
that will I make money of, and go to the jeweller that bought the cup of
mee. Farewell: if God put in thy mind to pay me, so; if not, so.
[_Exit_.
_Han_. O brave free-harted slave, he has the laske of mind upon him.
_Lass_. What speech is this that interrupts my rest? Who have we heere?
_Han_. Sometime a serving man, and so were yee,
Both now jolly gentlemen you see.
_Lass_. What, sir, how came you thus gallant, I beseech you?
_Han_. I turn'd the spit in Fortune's wheele, sir.
_Lass_. But, stay, where is _Lucilia_?
_Han_. Marry, where say you, sir?
_Lass_. Villaine, looke for her, call her, seeke her out.
_Lucillia_! where's my love, ô where's _Lucillia_!
Aye me, I feare my barbarous rudenesse to her
Hath driven her to some desperate exigent.
Who would have tempted her true love so farre?
The gentlest minds with injuries overcome
Growe most impacient: ô _Lucilia_,
Thy absence strikes a loving feare in me,
Which from what cause so ever it proceedes
Would God I had beene kinder to thy love.
_Enter Hard, with a Guard, Motto, Raphe_.
_Hard_. Slaves, can ye not direct us to the place?
_Mot_. Yes, sir, here's the place we left him in.
_Ra_. O see (my lord) heer's one weares his apparrell.
_Hard_. But where is he? stay, sirra, what are you
That jet thus in the garments of the Prince.
_Han_. Bought and sold, sir, in the open market, sir.
Aske my maister.
_Hard_. Earle _Lassingbergh_, where is the Princes body?
_Lass_. Why aske you me, my Lord?
_Hard_. Since you are in the place where he was drownd,
And this your hinde here hath his garments on.
_Lass_. Enquire of him then.
_Hard_. Ile enquire of you
And of your gallant, too. Guard, apprehend them
And bring them presentlie to court with us.
_Lass_. What meanes Lord _Hardenberg_ to entreate me thus?
_Har_. That you shall know anon: bring them away.
[_Exeunt_.
[SCENE 4]
_Enter Leander and Hyanthe_.
_Lean_. O, Madam, never were our teares bestowed
Of one whose death was worthier to be mon'd.
Deere _Alberdure_, why parted I from thee,
And did not like the faithful _Pilades_
Attend my deare Orestes in his rage?
_Hya_. O my sweete love, O princelie _Alberdure_,
Would God the river where thy course lay drownde
Were double deepe in me and turned to teares
That it might be consumde for swallowing thee.
_Enter Alber, with a basket of Apricocks, disguised_.
_Alber_. In this disguise Ile secretly enquire
Why I was so forsaken of my friend
And left to danger of my lunacie.
Here is the man that most I blame for this,
Whose vowed friendship promisd greater care;
But he, it seemes, enamour'd of my love,
Was glad of that occasion, and I feare
Hath turned her womanish conceipt from me.
Ile proove them both. Maister, wilt please [you] buy
A basket of well riped Apricocks?
_Lea_. I pray thee keepe thy dainties; I am full
Of bitter sorrowes as my hart can holde.
_Alb_. It may be, Maister, your faire Lady will.
_Hya_. No, friend; my stomach is more full then his.
_Lea_. Where dwellest thou, friend?
_Alb_. Not farre from hence, my Lord.
_Lea_. Then thou knowest well which was the fatall streame
Wherein the young prince _Alberdure_ was drownd?
_Alb_. I know not he was drowned, but oft have seene
The pittious manner of his lunacie;
In depth whereof he still would eccho forth
A Ladies name that I have often heard,
Beautious _Hyanthe_; but in such sad sort
As if his frenzie felt some secret touch
Of her unkindnesse and inconstancie,
And when his passions somewhat were appeaz'd,
Affording him (it seemed) some truer sence.
Of his estate, left in his fittes alone
Then would he wring his hands, extreamly weeping,
Exclaiming on the name of one _Leander_,
Calling him Traitor and unworthie friend
So to forsake him in his miserie.
_Lea_. Accursed I! ô thou hast mooved me more
Than if a thousand showers of venom'd darts
With severall paines at once had prickt my soule.
_Hya_. O thou ordained to beare swords in thy toung,
Dead thou hast struck me and I live no more.
_Alb_. It seemes your honoures loved him tenderly.
_Lea_. O my good friend, knewest thou how deer I loved him.
_Hya_. Nay, knewest thou, honest friend, how deere I loved him.
_Alb_. I see, then, you would rejoyce at his health.
_Lea_. As at my life, were it revived from death.
_Hya_. As at my soule, were it preserv'd from hell.
_Alber_. Be then from death and hell recovered both
As I am now by your firme loves to me.
Admire me not, I am that _Alberdure_
Whom you thought drownde; that friend, that love am I.
_Lea_. Pardon, sweete friend.
_Hya_. Pardon, my princely love.
_Alber_. Dear love, no further gratulations now
Least I be seene and knowne; but, sweete _Leander_,
Do you conceale me in thy father's house.
That I may now remaine with my _Hyanthe_
And at our pleasures safely joy each others love.
_Lea_. I will (deare friend) and blesse my happy stars
That give me meanes to so desir'de a deed.
_Finis Actus Quarti_.
_Actus Quintus_.
_Enter Cassimeere, Flores with the Cup,
Peasant, and the Marchant_.
_Mar_. See, signior _Flores_,
A Peasant that I met with neere your house,
Where[78] since he found you not he asked of me
The place of your abode; and heere I have brought him.
_Flo_. I thank you, sir. My good Lord _Cassimeere_,
This is the man that brought this cup to me
Which for my ransome we go now to offer
To my good lord the Duke.
_Cass_. What brings he now?
_Flo_. That will we know. Come hither, honest friend;
What wisht occasion brings thee now to me?
_Pea_. This occasion, sir; what will ye give me for it?
_Flo_. Thou art a luckie fellow; let us see.
Lord _Cassimeere_, this is the haplesse Jewell
That represents the form of _Alberdure_,
Given by _Cornelia_ at our fatall feast.
Where hadst thou this, my good and happy friend?
_Pea_. Faith, sir, I met with the young prince all wet, who lookt as
if he had been a quarter of a yeare drowned, yet prettelie come to
himselfe, saving that he was so madde to change apparrell with me; in
the pocket whereof, sir, I found this Jewell.
_Flo_. O tell me trulie, lives prince _Alberdure_?
_Pea_. He lives a my word, sir, but very poorely now, God help him.
_Cass_. Is he recovered of his lunacie?
_Pea_. I, by my faith, hee's tame enough now, Ile warrant him.
_Flo_. And where is he?
_Pea_. Nay, that I cannot tell.
_Cass_. Come, _Flores_, hast we quicklie to the Court
With this most happie newes.
_Flo_. Come, happie friend,
The most auspicious messenger to me
That ever greeted me in Pesants weeds.
[_Exeunt_.
_Enter Doctor_.
_Mar_. I would I could meet M. Doctor Doddie,
I have a tricke to gull the Asse withall;
I christned him right Doctor Doddipole.
Heere he comes passing luckely; Ile counterfeit business with him in all
poste haste possible. Maister Doctor, Maister Doctor!
_Doct_. Shesue, vat ayle de man?
_Mar_. I love you, Maister Doctor, and therefore with all the speed I
could possiblie I sought you out.
_Doct_. Vell, vat?
_Mar_. This, sir; the marriage which we thought made even now, betweene
Earle _Cassimere_ and _Cornelia_, was but a jest only to drawe you to
marry her, for she doth exceedinglie dote upon you; and _Flores_ her
father hath invented that you are betrothed to her and is gone with a
supplication to the Duke to enforce you to marrie her.
_Doct_. Be garr, me thought no lesse. O knave jeweller! O vile begger!
be my trot, Marshan, me studdie, me beat my braine, me invent, me dreame
upon such a ting.
_Mar_. I know, sir, your wit would forsee it.
_Doct_. O by garr, tree, fore, five monthe agoe.
_Mar_. Well, sir, y'ave a perilous wit, God blesse me out of the swinge
of it, but you had best looke to it betimes, for Earl _Cassimere_ hath
made great friends against you.
_Doct_. Marshan, me love, me embrace, me kisse de, will, be my trot.
_Mar_. Well, sir, make haste to prevent the worste.
_Doct_. I flie, Marshan, spit de Earle, spit de wenche, spit all bee
garre. Se dis, Marshan, de brave Braine be garre. [_Exit_.
_Mar_. De brave braine by garre, not a whit of the flower of wit in it.
Ile to the Courte after him, and see how he abuses the Duke's patience.
[_Exit_.
[SCENE 2.]
_Enter Alphonso, Hard., Lassing., Leander, Stro.,
Hosherman, Motto, and Raphe_.
_Alp_. Aye me! what hard extremitie is this?
Nor quick nor dead can I beholde my sonne.
_Enter Hance in the Princes apparrell_.
_Hance_. Behold your sonne; [your] Blessing, noble father.
_Hard_. Malipart knave, art thou the Princes sonne?
_Han_. I, sir, apparrell makes the man.
_Alp_. Unhappy man, would God I had my sonne,
So he had his _Hyanthe_ or my life.
_Lea_. Should he enjoy _Hyanthe_ [then], my Lord?
Would you forsake your love, so he did live?
_Alp_. My love and life, did my deere sonne survive.
_Lea_. But were he found or should he live, my Lord,
Although _Hyanthe's_ love were the chiefe cause
Of his mishap and amorous lunacie,
I hope your highnesse loves him over well
To let him repossesse his wits with her.
_Alp_. My love is dead in sorrow for his death;
His life and wits should ransome worlds from me.
_Lea_. My Lord, I had a vision this last night
Wherein me thought I sawe the prince your sonne
Sit in my fathers garden with _Hyanthe_
Under the shadow of the Laurell tree.
With anger, therefore, you should be so wrongde
I wakt, but then contemned it as a dreame;
Yet since my minde beates on it mightelie,
And though I thinke it vaine, if you vouchsafe,
Ile make a triall of the truthe hereof. [_Exit_.
_Alp_. Do, good _Leander. Hardenbergh_, your sonne
Perhaps deludes me with a vision[79]
To mocke my vision that deferde the Dutchesse,
And with _Hyanthe_ closlie keepes my sonne.
_Hard_. Your sonne was madde and drownd: this cannot bee.
_Alp_. But yet this circumventing speech [of his]
Offered suspition of such event.
_Stro_. My lord, most fortunate were that event
That would restore your sonne from death to life.
_Har_. As though a vision should do such a deed!
_Alp_. No, no, the boyes young brain was humorous:
His servant and his Page did see him drown'd.
_Enter Leander, Alberdure, Hyanthe; Alberdure
seeming fearefull to come forward_.
_Lea_. Come on, sweet friend; I warrant thee thy love;
Shun not thy fathers sight that longs for thee.
_Alb_. Go then before, and we will follow straight.
_Lea_. Comfort, my Lord, my vision proov'd most true:
Even in the place, under the Lawrell shade,
I found them sitting just as I beheld them
In my late vision; see, sir, where they come.
_Alp_. Am I enchanted or see I my sonne?
I, I, the boy hath plaide the traytor with me.
O, you young villaine, trust you with my love!
How smoothe the cunning treacher lookt on it;
_Hard_. But, sirra, can this be?
_Lea_. You knew him to be mad, these thought him drownd.
My Lord, take you no more delight to see
Your sonne recovered of his life and wits?
_Alp_. See, see, how boldly the young pollytician
Can urge his practice. Sirra, you shall know
Ile not be over-reacht with your young braine.
All have agreed, I see, to cozen me,
But all shall faile. Come, Ladie, I will have
You spight of all, and, sonne, learne you hereafter
To use more reverend meanes to obtaine
Of me what you desire. I have no joy
To see thee raizd from a deluding death.
_Hya_. My Lord, 'tis tyrannie t'enforce my love.
_Lea_. I hope your Highnesse will maintaine your word.
_Alp_. Doost thou speake, Traitor? straight Ile have you safe
For daring to delude me in my love.
_Albe_. O friend, thou hast betraide my love in vaine:
Now am I worse then eyther mad or drown'd,
Now have I onely wits to know my griefes
And life to feel them.
_Hya_. Let me go to him.
_Alp_. Thou shalt not have thy will nor he his love;
Neither of both know what is fit for you.
I love with judgment and upon cold bloud,
He with youths furie, without reasons stay;
And this shall time and my kind usage of thee
Make thee discerne; meane time consider this,
That I neglect for thee a beautious Dutchesse
Who next to thee is fairest in the world.
_Enter Messenger_.
_Mess_. My Lord, the Duke of _Brunswick_ and his sister,
The beautious Dutchesse, are arrived here.
_Alp_. Whats that; the Dutchesse?
_Mess_. Even her grace, my Lord.
_Alp_. Why, _Hardenbergh_, ha! is the Dutchesse come?
_Hard_. I know not, my good Lord. Where is the Dutchesse?
_Mess_. Hard by, my Lord.
_Alp_. Sounes, I am not here; go tell her so:
Or let her come, my choice is free in love.
Come, my _Hyanthe_, stand thou close to me.
_Mess_. My Lord, the Duke himselfe has come to urge
Your promise to him, which you must not break.
_Hosch_. Nor will you wish to break it, good my lord,
I am assur'd, when you shall see the Dutchesse,
Whose matchlesse beauties will renew the minde
Of her rare entertainment, and her presence
Put all new thoughts of love out of your minde.
_Alp_. Well, I do see 'tis best, my sweete _Hyanthie_,
That thou stand further.
_Hya_. Ile be gone, my Lord.
_Alp_. Not gone, but mix thy selfe among the rest.
What a spight is this! counsell me, _Hardenbergh_.
_Hard_. The Dutchesse comes, my Lord.
_Alp_. Out of my life, how shall I look on her?
_Enter Constan., Kather., Lassen., Lucil., Cassi.,
Cornelia, Ite. A Song: after the Dutchesse speakes_.
_Kath_. How now, my Lord? you looke as one dismaid;
Have any visions troubled you of late?
_Alp_. Your grace and your most princely brother here
Are highlie welcome to the _Saxon_ Court.
_Kath_. O you dissemble, sir, nor are we come
In hope of welcome, but with this poore head-peece
To beare the brunt of all discurtesies.
_Const_. My Lord, wee come not now to urge the marriage,
You sought with such hot suite, of my faire Sister,
But to resolve ourselves and all the world
Why you retained such mean conceipt of us
To slight so solemne and so high a contract
With vaine pretext of visions or of dreames.
_Alp_. My Lord, I here protest by earth and heaven
I holde your state right highlie and renowned
And your faire sisters beauties and deserts
To be most worthy the greatest king alive;
Onlie an ominous vision troubled me
And hindred the wisht speede I would have made
(Not to dissolve it, though it were diferd,)
By such portents as, least you thinke I faine,
Lord _Hardenbergh_ can witnesse is most true.
_Hard_. Most true, my lord, and most prodigious.
_Alp_. Yet Ile contemne them with my life and all
Ere Ile offend your grace or breed suspect
Of my firme faith in my most honoured love.
_Kath_. No, no, my lord: this is your vision
That hath not frighted but enamoured you.
_Alp_. O Madame, thinke you so? by Heaven I sweare
She's my sonnes love.--Sirra, take her to you.
Have I had all this care to do her grace,
To prove her vertues and her love to thee,
And standst thou fearefull now? Take her, I say.
_Lea_. My Lord, he feares you will be angry with him.
_Alp_. You play the villaine: wherfore should he feare?
I onely proved her vertues for his sake,
And now you talke of anger. Aye me wretche,
That ever I should live to be thus shamed!
_Alb_. Madame, I sweare the Ladie is my love;
Therefore your highnesse cannot charge my father
With any wrong to your high woorth in her.
_Con_. Sister, you see we utterly mistake
The kinde and princelie dealing of the Duke:
Therefore without more ceremonious doubts
Lets reconfirme the contract and his love.
_Kath_. I warrant you, my Lord, the Duke dissembles.
_Alp_. Heere on my knees, at the altar of those feete,
I offer up in pure and sacred breath
The true speech of my hart and hart it selfe.
Require no more if thou be princelie borne
And not of rocks or ruthelesse tygers bred.
_Kath_. My Lord, I kindlie cry you mercy now,
Ashamed that you should injurie your estate
To kneele to me; and vowe before these lords
To make you all amends you can desire.
_Flo_. Madame, in admiration of your Grace
And princelie wisedom, and to gratifie
The long wisht joye done to my Lord the Duke,
I here present your highnesse with this cup,
Wrought admirablie by th' art of Spirits,
Of substance faire, more rich then earthly Jemmes,
Whose valew no mans judgement can esteeme.
_Alp_. _Flores_, Ile interrupt the Dutchesse thankes
And for the present thou hast given to her
To strengthen her consent to my desires,
I recompence thee with a free release
Of all offences twixt thy selfe and me.
_Flo_. I humblie thanke your excellence.
_Kath_. But where is now unkinde Earle _Lassinbergh_,
That injures his faire love and makes her weare
This worthlesse garland? Come, sir, make amends,
Or we will heere awarde you worthie penance.
_Lass_. Madame, since her departure I have done
More hartie penance then her hart could wish,
And vowe hereafter to live ever hers.
_Kat_. Then let us cast aside these forlorne wreathes,
And with our better fortunes change our habits.
_Enter Doctor in poste, the Marchant following him_.
_Doct_. O stay, my Lorte, me pray you on knee von staie.
_Alp_. What's the matter, Doctor?
_Doct_. O me bret be garr for haste.
_Con_. What ayles the hastie Doctor?
_Doct_. My Lort be garr he lyes falslie in his troate;
Me proove by the duell dat he be the fallce knave.
_Alp_. Who is it, man, with whom thou art so bold?
_Doct_. My Lorte, if me make my contrack of marriage, if me be not as
loose as de vide worlde, if me doe not alleadge--
_Alp_. I pray thee, man, what meanest thou?
_Doct_. Be garr, enforme your grace vot he dare I will proove by good
argument and raison dat he is de falce beggerlie Jeweller, dat I no
point marrie _Cornelia_. Vat say you now?
_Cass_. My Lord, no doubt some man hath guld the Doctor,
Supposing he should be enforste to wed her
That is my wife and ever scorned him.
_Doct_. Vat you say? de Marshan tell a me I marrie _Cornelia_ spit
my nose.
_Alp_. The Marchant I perceive hath trimde you, Doctor.
And comb'd you smoothelie. Faith, I can him thanke
That thus revives our meeting with such mirth.
_Doct_. O be bright de heaven, est a possible! and by heaven I be
revenge dat vile Marshan, me make de medecine drie up de Sea, seaven
towsand, towsand million d'stlloe, fife hundred, hundred dram _Fuffian,
Marquerite, Balestiae, Hematete, Cortemedian, Churchacholl, Pantasite,
Petrofidem, Hynape_, and by garr de hot Pepre; me make de vinde, de
grease collicke puffe, blowe by garr, teare de Sayle, beate de maste,
cracke de Ship in towsand towsand peeces!
_Exit_.
_Alp_. Farewell, gentle Doctor Doddipoll.
And now, deere Ladie, let us celebrate
Our happie royall nuptials and my sonnes
With this our sweete and generall amitie
Which heaven smile on with his goulden eye.
_Finis Actus Quinti & ultimi_.
_Imprinted at London by Thomas Creede, for Richard Olive_,
dwelling in Long-lane. 1600.