The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/The Sad One
The
A
BY
London
Printed for Humphrey Mosely at the Prince's
Arms in St Pauls Churchyard.
1659.
TO THE READER
I hope I shall not need to crave your pardon for publishing this dramatic piece of Sir John Suckling (imperfect, I cannot say, but rather unfinish'd), there being a kind of perfection even in the most deficient fragments of this incomparable author. To evince that this copy was a faithful transcript from his own handwriting, I have said enough in my former epistle; and I thought it much better to send it into the world in the same state I found it, without the least addition, than procure it supplied by any other pen, which had not been less preposterous than the finishing of Venus' picture, so skilfully begun by Apelles, by some other hand. Nor are we without a sufficient precedent in works of this nature, and relating to an author, who confessedly is reputed the glory of the English stage (whereby you'll know I mean Ben Jonson), and in a play also of somewhat resembling name, The Sad Shepherd, extant in his third volume, which, though it wants two entire Acts, was nevertheless judg'd a piece of too much worth to be laid aside by the learned and honorable Sir [K. D.] who published that volume. We have also in print (written by the same hand) the very beginning only (for it amounts not to one full scene) of a tragedy called Mortimer; so that we find the same fate to have hapned to the works of two of the most celebrated and happy wits of this nation. Now, as it is to have been wish'd that this tragedy had come whole and compleat to public view, so is it some happiness that there is so much of it preserved; it being true of our author what Dr. Donne said of a famous artist of his time—
A HAND OR EYE
BY HILLIARD DRAWN, IS WORTH A HISTORY
BY A WORSE PAINTER MADE.
THE ARGUMENT INTRODUCING TO THE FOLLOWING SCENES
Sicily had been a long time tormented with civil wars, and the crown was still in dispute, till Aldebrand, getting the upper hand in a set battle, establish'd himself in the throne, and gave a period to all those troubles in shew only; for the old factions were set on foot again shortly after, and the house of the Floretties and the Cleonaxes strove now as much who should be most powerful with the king, as before who should make him. In conclusion, the favour of Aldebrand inclining to the Cleonaxes, and by degrees resting wholly upon them, the Floretties took arms, but in a set field lost all. The father and the son being both taken prisoners, the one was banish'd, the other condemned suddenly to lose his head.
Thus far the author drew the curtain; the rest of the plot is wrapt up in the following scenes.
Dramatis Personæ
| Aldebrand, | King of Sicily. | |
| Cleonax senior, | his treasurer. | |
| Cleonax junior, | son of the former. | |
| Bellamino, | favourite of pleasure, and cousin to Cleonax. | |
| Clarimont, | an old lord. | |
| Clarimont junior. | ||
| Fidelio, | friend to Clarimont. | |
| Florelio, | a lord married to Francelia. | |
| Florelio junior, | his brother. | |
| Lorenzo, | an ambitious courtier. | |
| Parmenio, | his supposed creature. | |
| Drollio, | two courtiers. | |
| Lepido, | ||
| Doco Discopio, | one that pretends to be a great statesman. | |
| Signior Multecarni, | the poet. | |
| Petruchio, | servant to Florelio. | |
| Ambassador from Spain. | ||
| Actors. | ||
| Amasia, | queen to Aldebrand. | |
| Francelia, | daughter to Clarimont. | |
| Keeper. | ||
The Scene, Sicily.
THE SAD ONE
ACT I
Scene I
Enter old Clarimont in prison, in his nightgown; his Servant following him
Condemn'd unheard! Just heavens, it cannot be!
Why, tyranny itself could do no more:
The pale ghosts of Tiberius and Nero
Would blush to see an act so foul and horrid,
So full of black ingratitude as this!5
'Twas I that set the crown upon his head,
And bid him live king of his enemies,
When he durst hardly hope it:
And does he thus requite me? Now I see,
Who by the compass of his merit sails,10
May guide his fraught of hopes in seasons fair
And calm; but, when storms come,
All his good deeds, with his good days, must perish.
O my unhappy stars![Beats his breast
Ser. My lord, let not a fruitless passion15
Make you to die less man than you have lived.
Clar. Who art thou?
Ser. I was lately one, my lord,
Of the vast crowd that waited on your fortunes;
But am now become the whole train: the rest have left you.
Clar. Prithee, do thou leave me too.[Servant exit20
The clap o' th' vulgar and loud popular applause
Are not the echo of our acts, but Fortune's.
Great men but dials are, which, when the sun
Is gone or hides his face, are hardly look'd upon.
But yesterday I was time's minister:25
On me the whole court gaz'd, as at
Some comet set in Cassiopeia's chair:
Who but old Clarimont could with nods create,
And with a speaking eye command bare heads
And knees. But now[Beats his breast again30
Greatness is but the shadow of the beams
Of prince's favours, nourish'd in extremes;
First taught to creep, and feed on hopes, to live
Upon the glance, and humbly to observe
Each under-minion, till its own desire35
Work itself near enough to set itself on fire.[Studies a little
Fain would I make my audit up with heaven,
For 'tis a large one; but the small, vain hopes,
Which yet I have of life and of revenge,
Smother these thoughts within me40
Faster than they are born.
Enter Fidelio disguised like a friar
A ghostly father!
My minutes are but few, I see by this.
Sir, you are welcome:
I was but now considering how to die,
And, trust me, I do find it something hard.45
I shall extremely need some such good help
As yours to do it well.
Fid. Faith, my lord, divines do hold
The way to die well is to live well first.[Discovers himself
Clar. Fidelio!
Fid. Not too loud: there's danger in't.
The king has promised life; but none as ye⟨t⟩50
Must know't: the enemies are too potent,
And must be soft'ned by degrees.
Clar. Why, then,
I see he hath not quite forgot pass'd services.
Fid. Not too much of that:
This is not gratitude; or, if it be, it does55
As thankfulness in great ones use[s] to do;
It looks asquint, and seems to turn to favours,
But regards new ends.
Clar. Prithee, unriddle.
Fid. Why, to be short, it is your daughter's beauty,
Not your merit.
Clar. My fears prompt me too quick:60
She's not turned whore, is she?
Fid. No; but her honesty is so strait beset,
That, if she be not victualled well within,
And have some sudden succours, she will, I fear,
Ere long surrender.
Clar. O Fidelio,65
When kings do tempt, th' had need be angels that
Endure the shock, not women.
Fid. 'Tis true, my lord.
Yet let not uncertain fears create new griefs.
Doubt is of all the sharpest passion,
And often turns distempers to diseases.70
Collect yourself, and be assur'd my zeal
Shall watch abroad; and, when I may reveal
Myself your servant, I'll not do't in breath,
But with the adventure of my life or death.
Clar. O, you are noble, sir, I know't, and mean75
To hope the best. Farewell.[Exeunt
Scene II
Enter Lorenzo solus, as going to prison
Arm'd with the love of sovereignty and revenge,
I'll ravish fortune, and all engines try,
That heaven or hell have yet discovered;
But I will scale my end, and plant desire
As high as any thought durst e'er aspire.5
The dotage of the king shall not secure thee,
Poor old man!
Clarimont, I come: this night our quarrel ends!
Nothing but death could ever make us friends.[Knocks at the prison door
Enter the Keeper
Where's old Clarimont?10
Keep. In's bed, my lord.
Lor. In's grave, thou wouldst have said.
Keep. Must he then die to-night?
Lor. The king will have it so:
He fears the people love him, and to save
His life may prove tumultuous.
Keep. Poor gentleman! how quick15
Is fate come on him! how sudden is all woe!
Bad days have wings; the good on crutches go.
My lord,
Will't please you walk into that private chamber?
The executioner shall straight be here.20
Lor. You must be sure to keep it secret now.
Perchance the king, to try your honesty,
And blind his daughter's eyes, will send to ask
Of's welfare.
Keep. O my lord!
Lor. Nay, I know you understand.25
Farewell.[Turns back again
One thing I had forgot: if any ask
What groan that was, say 'tis an usual thing
Against great men's deaths to hear a noise at midnight.
So now, royal lecher, set you safe!
'Tis your death must secure my life; I'll on!30
Danger is but a bug-word; my barque shall through,
Did mountains of black horrors me surround.
When fortunes hang in doubt,
Bravely to dare is bravely to get out.
ACT II
Scene I
Enter Lorenzo, Parmenio attending
All leave the chamber! If any come, I'm busy.
Parmenio, be nigher—nigher yet.
What dar'st thou do to make thy master king,
Thyself a favourite?
Par. 'Tis something blunt, my lord. [Studies.] Why, I dare do—5
That which I dare not speak.
Lor. By all my hopes, spoke like the man I want!
'Twould be lost time to use much circumstance
To thee: shall we this night despatch the king?
Par. This minute, were he my father!10
He's not the first, nor shall he be the last.
Lor. Soul of my soul! My better angel sure
Foresaw my wants, and sent thee hither.
Parmenio,
There's none but he stands 'twixt a crown and me.15
The cloud that interpos'd betwixt my hopes before
Is, like a vapour, fall'n, and seen no more.
The house of Clarimont is lost: the king
Has sent one son to banishment, and I
Have sent the father.20
Par. How, sir, you have not murdered him![Starts
Lor. Why?
Par. Nothing, my lord;
Only I'm sorry I had no hand in't.
'Sdeath, hath the villain killed him?[Aside
Lor. O, thou art jealous! Thy hand comes well enough.25
This night I have determined that soon,
Ere the royal blood's a-tilt, you shall to horse.
'Tis easy to outride
Par. Imagination itself, my lord!
Lor. For then report will say thou kill'dst him.30
No matter.
Par. O, none at all, my lord.
Lor. When I am king, I can restore at ease.
Par. True, my lord.
What, if your excellence cast out, when I'm gone,35
That Clarimont's youngest son did this, and took
His flight upon't. His discontent's known well
Enough to make of a suspicion
A most received truth.
Besides, wheresoev'r I go, I'll swear 'twas he.40
Lor. By Jove, most rare! when I am king, I shall
Be poorer than I am, by giving thee
Thy due. Away! let's lose no time in words:
We're both resolv'd to put this cause to swords.
I'll to the king: thou to prepare for night.45
Four hours hence, wait me in the gallery.[Exeunt
Scene II
Enter young Clarimont solus
Break, heart, and burst! My father murdered,
And in the midst of all his hopes of life!
Methinks I see millions of furies stand,
Ready to catch my rage's sacrifice.
O, for a man that could invent more plagues5
Than hell could hold! I have conceiv'd of wrong,
And am grown great already.
O sweet revenge, I humbly thee entreat,
Be my grief's midwife! let the mother die,
So thou bring'st forth her long'd-for progeny.10
Methinks I feel the villain grow within me,
And spread through all my veins.
How I could murder now, poison or stab!
My head is full of mischief. Sulphur and flaming pitch
Shall be but mercy to those deaths I'll give.[Exit15
Scene III
Enter the King, with Fidelio
Fid. Though it be not safe for subjects
To pry into the secrets of their prince,
Much less to question about them, yet
The implicit faith of blind obedience,
Poison'd with pleasing oft—and 't like your majesty,5
Why do you court this lady thus?
King. Why dost thou ask?
Fid. I know 'tis insolence to make reply:
Yet hear me as the echo of the court, great sir;
They call your last-giv'n mercy and those favours10
But fairer ends to lust.
King. The zeal hath got thy pardon.[Stares upon him
No more!
He that does offer to give direction
To his prince, is full of pride, not of discretion.[Exit15
Fid. So,
To give kings good advice, may show, I see,
Men faithful, but not wise. I'm honest yet,
And I do fare the worst for't. O, the court!
There humours reign, and merits only serve20
To mock with idle hopes those best deserve.[Exit
Scene IV
Enter Francelia, Bellamino
Fran. Sir, leave your compliment!
Methinks the sweetest speech is that that's meant.
Bel. Wrong not
My love, best creature, so to think my words
Are not the true ambassadors of my heart.5
By thy fair self, I swear, Nature has been
Too partial in robbing heaven and earth
To give you all
Fran. Their weaknesses you mean,
And I confess, my lord
Bel. Their richest graces,
Sweetest! O, do not rack me thus! I love:10
Can you give love again?
Fran. Yes, any love
That you dare ask, or I dare give, my lord.
Bel. O, but, fair lady, love must have no bounds:
It pines in prison.
Fran. O, but, my lord, hot loves,
If not contain'd, like fiery meteors,15
Promise no good to others, and are themselves
Consum'd.
Enter the King, and Lords attending
Bel. O, leave me not in doubt's distracting trance.
King. How, my boy? what, courting?
Bel. No, sir.20
King. What was he doing then, Francelia?
Fran. So please your grace,
He was i' th' midst of all your praises, when
Your highness ent'red.
Bel. [Aside.] Hum! there's yet some hope then.
King. O, you are glad we are come, then! That discourse25
Was tedious.
Fran. No, my lord;
I should have been well pleas'd to have heard him longer.
King. You are grown a courtier, fair one! Sileo,
Are the coaches ready?
Sil. Yes, and 't please your majesty.
King. Come,30
We'll abroad then: this day invites us forth.
Where's our queen?[Exeunt
Scene V
Enter young Clarimont, Fidelio, and young Florelio
Clar. Then, with a pause fill'd up with sighs,
Ask him how strong his guards are; but, above all,
Be sure t' apply inflaming corrosives:
Screw up his anger to the height, and make
His fears be double.5
Officious friends and mediation
May else prove remedies.
Fid. Enough. If we
Do fail to act our parts to th' life in's tragedy,
May all those horrors that do threaten him
Fall upon us! Farewell.[Exeunt
Clar. So, my revenge10
Flies high: the villain first shall kill his father;
And, while his hands are hot i' th' blood, this sword
Shall pierce him. Murder'd he shall sink quick to hell:
I will not give him leave t' unload himself
Of one poor single sin of thought;15
But, lest he should wake out
Of's great security, and shun his fate,
I will rock him on.
Mischiefs are like the cockatrice's eye:
If they see first, they kill; if seen, they die.[Exit20
ACT III
Scene I
Enter King, young Florelio, and Fidelio
King. And must the villain kill me too?
Flo. This very night.
King. Why, 'tis not possible:
What would he have had more? He had my heart,
And might have had all but the name of king.5
O, heaven had tied so strict a friendship, we
Could not part with 't: I durst have thought that I
Had merited fidelity from him.
Fid. O my lord, let ne'er so many drops,
Sweet as the morning dew, fall on the sea,10
The brinish water turns them all to salt.
Where there's an ocean of ingratitude,
Favours must needs be lost.
King. Thou speak'st but truth. Who does to merit trust,
But writes an obligation in the dust.15
Your counsels now my faithful life preserve,
Is there a way for pardon?
Fid. Faith, sir,
It would pollute mercy to use it here.
The fact's so foul, it calls itself for death.20
King. And it shall have it.
Traitor's enough; but, when ungrateful comes,
It stops the mouth of pity.
Go, take our guards, and apprehend him straight.
Flo. Soft, great sir! 'Twere fit25
Your justice should consider what way is made:
If you shall apprehend him for treason unborn,
And which he only did intend,
Foolish report, which never was i' th' right,
May clear his guiltiness, and censure majesty.30
If you'd permit him to approach the chamber,
(Yet who'ld advise treason should come so near?)
You would take him in the act, and leave no place
For foul suspicion. Then, if your grace
Sent for his father,35
And kept him with pretence of business by you,
Till he became the witness of th' attempt,
Envy itself could have no cause to bark.
King. Thou art my oracle: I cannot tell
Whether my debt be greater to thy faith40
Or to thy counsel. Go and watch abroad,
And let these cares wait upon fate and me.
The captain of the guard 'twere fit you sounded;
He may do mischief. Florelio, you
Shall to his father: the rest is mine to manage.[Exeunt Florelio and Fidelio 45
These men are honest, and must be rewarded;
They do deserve it. 'Tis most rare to find
A greatness that enjoys true friends;
For commonly it makes us fear'd and hated.
The one doth breed offence: th' other leaves naked.50
Let the impartial eye but look upon
All we call ours, and then again behold
The many hungry eyes of expectation
That wait upon our bounty, and it shall find
That we have scarce enough to keep men's hopes up,55
We are rich if we can purchase friends.
Thrones, though they advance their glory ne'er so high,
Are but the seats of fear and misery.[Exit
Scene II
Enter Parmenio and Lorenzo
Par. In deep security, my lord,
The lady's at one window courted;
The king, with Florelio and the favourite,
Contriving of a masque, which he must never see!
Lor. Good! which he must never see!5
O, thou dost hug my fates! How I am ravish'd
To think upon ensuing joys! Parmenio,
He's dead already.
Par. Six hours ago, my lord, you cannot think
How much ado I had to keep myself10
From saying, 'And 't shall please your majesty,'
I' th' open presence to you. Methinks, one while
I see your highness sit like Jupiter
In state, with all the petty gods about you;
And then15
Again, in a more tempting shape than was
The shower of gold, lie in some Danae's lap,
More wanton than Europa's bull. Another time,
With some great train, as if you went to battle,
Rock'd in a downy coach, go take the air, and have20
The thronging city, crowded into a handful,
Looking along to bless your eyes, and striving
Who shall cry loudest, 'God bless your majesty!'
Lor. And all the while thou, like my Ganymede,
Shalt taste ambrosia with me, while the petty gods25
Burst with repining at thy happiness.
Thou shalt dispose of all, create, displace,
Be call'd my boy, revel and masque, what not?
O, for one
Half-year I will not speak unto the people:30
Take you that office, keep that part for yours.
O, how I long for night! Thou canst not name
The pleasure could make the time not tedious.
Away unto thy watch, and, when the king's
A-bed, be here.35
Par. I shall, my lord—and 't please your majesty,
I shall.[Exeunt
Scene III
Enter the Queen Amasia, Bellamino her favourite, Drollio, Attendants
Bel. What is the matter, madam, that the court
Is in such clouds to-night?
The king feigns mirth and freeness; but withal
Flashes of fury make escapes.
Queen. 'Tis strange,
My lord, you should not know.5
Bel. Faith, madam, I
Know nothing.
Queen. Troth, nor I; but I suspect.
The clock no sooner struck, but all the statesmen
Started, as if they had been to run a race,
And the king told me 'twere fit I took my rest.10
There's something in't; but these designs of state
We women know no more than our own fate.
To turn our talk—faith, my lord, where lies
That beauty, that so captivates you all?
She has a graceful garb, 'tis true.15
Bel. Who, madam? Francelia?
O, she has a dainty foot and daintier hand,
An eye, round as a globe, and black as jet,
So full of majesty and life, that when
It most denies, it most invites.20
Queen. These parts she has indeed; but is here all?
Bel. All? heaven forbid!
Her hair's so preciously fair and soft,
That, were she fall'n into some river, and
In danger, one would make a conscience25
To save her life, for fear of spoiling it.
Her lips are gently swelled, like unto
Some blushing cherry, that hath newly tasted
The dew from heaven; and her cheeks
Queen. Hold, hold, my lord!30
All this is poetry: a painter could
Not flatter more. To my eye, now,
She is so slender! She's scarce, I think, a span
About i' th' middle.
Bel. O madam! you must think
Wise Nature, of such rich mould as she was fram'd,35
Would make as little waste as could be!
Queen. So, so.
What think you of the upper part o' th' nose, then;
Does it not look as, if it did give way,
The eyes should shortly have an interview?40
Bel. You're too severe a critic, madam: so good
A wit as yours could make, where there were any,
All bless'd perfections. After all,
Next to your highness, I'm resolved to think
She is chiefest beauty.
Queen. Not next to me, my lord!45
Now I am sure you flatter; but 'tis too late
To chide you for it. Good-night.[Exeunt
Scene IV
Enter the King going to bed, Cleonax, Lords, Attendants
King. Good-night to all. Lord Cleonax,
A word in private! [They whisper.] Take away the light,
And shut the door.[Exeunt King and Cleonax
Enter Parmenio and Lorenzo
Lor. Is the king gone to bed?
Par. An hour ago, my lord.5
Lor. What if he should not be asleep yet?
Par. No matter; ere his tongue can speak, our swords
Shall kill. What, though he call us traitors?
'Twill be his last, and may be pardoned.
Come, sir, bravely on! fear's worse than death:10
You're lord of all, or not of your own breath.
Lor. Nay, if I fear, may I not live! Follow.
Scene V
Enter the King in his nightgown, Lords, Attendants
King. Trust me, most sad and strange!
A flood of grief beats at my eyes for vent.
Poor Cleonax, I'm truly sorry for thee.
Lords. So are we all.
King. This accident5
Commands our pity; but what is done, is done.
Let it not be as yet divulged.
Remove the corpse, and let it be the care
Of thee, Florelio, to see his burial
Honourable and private. Good thanks to all the rest.10
Clarimont, stay you with me.[Exeunt Lords, etc.
The traitor's dead by Parmenio; but you must know
There's one yet lives within me. I love, Clarimont!
Clar. That passion of all others, sir, heaven
Easiliest pardons: he lives not, sure, that loves not.15
King. Ay, but my love's not pure; 'tis great, not good,
Clarimont. I love—Francelia!
Clar. Take heed of unchaste fires, great sir;
They mischief, sir. Forget her, faith, forget her.
Such fits as these are ever cur'd like agues—20
Best when they are most starved.
If you shall give them their desired fuel,
They'll not be quench'd with ease;
And it is ever seen (heaven keep my sovereign!)
The house they're bred in feels them first and ever.25
King. Clarimont, thou wert ne'er in love;
Thou art philosophical, and wouldst have reason
Guide where it was never yet companion.
Thou show'st thy want of love, but helpst not mine.
Counsel is now too late;30
It's like smith's water flung upon the coals,
Which more inflames. Here.
Thou twice hast sav'd my life, if thou now speed'st;
Go to Francelia, and present
This jewel to her, and withal my love.[Gives him a jewel35
Do't with thy best of language and respect.
Fair means at first we'll use;
But foul shall come, if she the fair refuse.
Good-night, and good success.
Clar. Obedience is the best of what I am:40
Your will's my law, sir. [Exit.] Why, then, it must be.
Was there no woman in the court to feed
Thy lust with, but my sister; and none to be
The bawd, but I?
Couldst thou not think of any other way45
To express thy greatness, but by doing me wrong?
My father's angry ghost, I see, is not full
Appeased yet.[Studies
Why should I make of murther thus begun
A massacre?50
He did my father right in his revenge:
Ay, but he wrong'd him first; and yet, who knows
But it was justice to attempt by force?
The removal of
Great favourites, though enemies to th' state,55
Is not so warrantable—I'm in a maze.
Something I'll do, but what I cannot tell:
I fear the worst; lust never ended well.[Exit
ACT IV
Scene I
Enter Francelia and Bellamino
Fran. Fie, leave this importunity, my lord!
I shall yield else, by this kiss I shall.
Bel. By this, and this, and this, thou shalt!
Heavens, what a breath is here! Thy father fed
On musk and amber, when he begot thee, sure!5
The wanton air,
Chaf'd by the hot scents of Arabic spices,
Is nothing nigh so sweet:
The ambrosia, the gods themselves were drunk with,
Dwells on thy lips.10
Enter Florelio, senior, behind
Fran. Come, come, you flatter, 'tis on yours, my lord.
Bel. On mine? Alas, Nature gave us the prickles,
You the roses, but meant that they should grow together.[Kisses again
Fran. So, so: what, if the King or Florelio saw ye?
Bel. What, if they did? I can fear nothing now15
But surfeits.
Come, we lose time, my fairest, do we not?[Kisses her again
This is the minute.
Flo. By heaven,
This is not fair, madam.
Fran. Wonder strikes me dumb.[Exit20
Flo. How does she kiss, favourite?
Bel. Who, my lord?
Flo. My wife, my lord. Draw, draw, or by all my hopes,
My rage will make me turn a murderer.
Bel. Not so easily.[They fight
Flo. Hold, let's breathe: why should I do him right,25
Who has done me such wrong,
Or die for her that will not live for me?[Puts up
Go, enjoy her![Offers to go out
Bel. Soft! [Pulls him back.] You have stol'n a secret here,
That you must give again, or take my life.30
Draw!
Flo. Prithee, disturb me not.
Bel. No,
Unless you promise never to disclose
What you have here discover'd, this must be
The passage.[Stands betwixt the door and Florelio35
Flo. Hum!
I will be mute, credit me: I will not speak one word.[Offers to go out again
Bel. Nay [pulls him back], you must swear it too.
Flo. If I must, I must.
By heaven and by my honour, how tame a thing
A cuckold is![Exit40
Bel. 'Sdeath,
Why did I let him go? We can no more
Subsist together than fire and water.
One of us two must die;
And, charity tells me, better he than I.45
But how?
It is not for my honour to kill him basely;
Nor is it for hers to kill him otherwise.
Th' whole court will guess the quarrel, if it be a duel.[Studies again
It is decreed. No matter which way, so he fall;50
Mine, in respect of hers, are no respects at all.[Exit
Scene II
Enter Doco Discopio and Drollio
Doc. Abused, grossly abused!
A base affront, believe it, Drollio!
Drol. Why, what's the matter, signior?
Doc. Why, do you hear nothing?
Drol. No. Why, what should it be?5
Doc. Pisaro is the man.
Drol. Fie, fie! it cannot be;
The state could not commit so great an oversight.
Neglect a man of merit for Pisaro!
Fie, fie!10
Doc. Want of judgment, Drollio.
An unlearned council: I ever told you so;
Never more heads, nor never less wit, believe't.
Drol. Say you so, signior? that's hard. What say you to
Diano?
Doc. Alas, an ordinary brain!15
Talks and talks, it's true, but speaks more than he is:
Believe't betwixt you and I, a mere prattler.
There's Falorio, too; why, he cannot read his own hand:
Vasquez cannot speak sense without two days' premedita-
tion. Sillio, Vechio, Caronnio—all stones in their head!20
Drol. If I
Should tell these lords now, signior, what you say,
It might cost an ear or so.
Doc. Ay. Why, there's another abuse i' th' state: a man
Shall have his ears cut off for speaking a truth.25
A sick government, Drollio, and a weak one, believe't.
It never thriv'd, since Spain and we grew so great.
There is a mystery in that too, Drollio:
I will know all before they have any more
Of my money
Drol. Peace, signior! The king![Exeunt30
Flor. sen. I prithee,
Leave me: by all that's good, thou canst not know it.
Why shouldst thou thus in vain torment thyself
And me?[They whisper
Flor. jun. Well, I guess; and 'tis enough.
Scene III
Enter Clarimont and Francelia
Fran. Think not, good sir,
Your elegant enforcements can seduce
My weaker innocence:
It's a resolution grounded; and sooner
Shall the fixed orbs be lifted off their hinges,5
Than I be mov'd to any act that bears
The name of foul. You know the way you came, sir.
Clar. Is this all the respect the king shall have?
No, you would do well to clothe this harsh denial
In better language.10
Fran. You may please to say,
I owe my life unto my sovereign,
And should be proud to pay it in at any
Warning, were it ne'er so short. But, for my chastity,
It doth so much concern another, I can15
By no means part with it. So, fare you well, sir.[Exit
Clar. By heaven, a saint, no woman!
Sure, she was born o' th' virtues of her mother,
Not of her vices. The whole sex may come
To be thought well of for her sake. I long20
To meet Florelio:
My joy is not complete, till I have cured
His jealousies as well as mine.[Exit
Enter Florelio and a Boy
Flor. There was
A time when snakes and adders had no being;25
When the poor infant-world had no worse reptiles
Than were the melon and the strawberry!
Those were the golden times of innocence.
There were no kings then, nor no lustful peers,
No smooth-fac'd favourites, nor no cuckolds, sure.30
O,
How happy is that man, whose humbler thoughts
Kept him from court; who never yet was taught
The glorious way unto damnation!
Who never did aspire35
Further than the cool shades of quiet rest!
How have the heavens his lower wishes bless'd!
Sleep makes his labours sweet, and innocence
Does his mean fortunes truly recompense:
He feels no hot loves, nor no palsy-fears,40
No fits of filthy lusts, or of pale jealousies:
He wants, it's true, our clothes, our masks, our diet,
And wants our cares, our fears, and our disquiets.
But this
Is all but raving, and does distemper more.45
I'll sleep. [Lies all along on the ground.] Boy, sing the song I gave you.
A Song to a Lute
Hast thou seen the down i' th' air,
when wanton blasts have tost it;
Or the ship on the sea,
when ruder waves have crost it?50
Hast thou mark'd the crocodile's weeping,
or the fox's sleeping?
Or hast view'd the peacock in his pride,
or the dove by his bride,
when he courts for his lechery?55
O, so fickle, O, so vain, O, so false, so false is she!
Flor. Good boy, leave me![Boy exit
Re-enter Clarimont
Clar. How now, Florelio, melancholy?
Flor. No, I was studying.
Prithee, resolve me, whether it be better to60
Maintain a strong, implicit faith, that can
By no means be opprest?
Or, falling to the bottom at the first,
Arm'd with disdain and with contempts, to scorn the worst?
Clar. This is a subtle one; but why studying about this?65
Flor. Faith, I would find a good receipt for the headache,
That's all.
Clar. Hum,
I know uow whereabouts you are. No more on't!
I'm come to clear those doubts— Your wife is chaste,70
Chaste as the turtle-dove.
Flor. Ha, ha, ha!
Clar. Ha!
Why do you laugh? I know she is: 'tis not
So many hours, since I tempted her75
With all my eloquence, and for the king,
Yet found her cold as ice.
Flor. Ha, ha, ha!
Clar. You do not well to tempt a friend: you do
Forget she is my sister.80
Flor. I would I ne'er had known you had one.
Clar. You'll give a reason now for this.
Flor. None.
Clar. By all that's good, since our dear father left us,
We are become his scorn; look you, sir,85
I dare maintain it.[Draws
Flor. But I dare not. Put up, put up, young man,
When thou hast known a woman, thou wilt be tamer.[Exit
Clar. Ha! what should this mean? I know
He's valiant, wise, discreet; and what of that?90
Passion,
When it hath got the bit, doth ofttimes throw
The rider. Yet why should I be peremptory?
She may, for ought I know, be yet unchaste
With some unworthy groom. [Studies.] What, if I stole95
Into some corner, and heard her at confession?
'Twould not be amiss; for souls at such a time,
Like ships in tempests, throw out all they have.
And, now I think on't, her trial shall be quick.
Friend, I'll do thee right:100
Come on't what will, she dies, if she be light.[Exit
Scene IV
Enter Signior Multecarni the Poet, and two of the Actors
Mul. Well, if there be no remedy, one must act two
parts. Roselio shall be the fool and the lord, and Tisso
the citizen and the cuckold.
1 Act. That cannot be, signior: you know, one still
comes in, when the other goes out.5
Mul. By Jove, 'tis true. Let me see, we'll contrive it:
the lord and the usurer, the citizen and the politician;
and, sure, they never are together. But who shall act the
honest lawyer? 'tis a hard part, that!
2 Act. And a tedious one! It's admired you would10
put it in, squire; and 'tis against your own rules to
represent anything on the stage that cannot be.
Mul. Why, dost think 'tis impossible for a lawyer to be
honest?
1 Act. As 'tis for a lord treasurer to be poor, or for a15
king not to be cozened. There's little Robin, in debt
within these three years, grown fat and full by the trade;
and then there's Borachio, an unknown man, got it all by
speaking loud and bawling. Believe it, sir, they have no
more conscience than an inn-keeper.20
Mul. I grant you all this: an old cook and a good
will please all palates. There's that for the young tapers
of the law: then there's a bawdy jest or two extraordinary
for the ladies; and, when it comes to be acted in private,
I'll have a jerk at the state for the country gentlemen.25
If it does not take, my masters, it lies not upon me: I
have provided well; and, if the stomach of the times be
naught, the fault's not in the meat or in the cook. Come,
let's find out Lepido, and dine at the Mermaid. Come,
let us have one rouse, my Joves, in Aristippus: we shall30
conceive the better afterwards.
Act. Agreed, agreed.[Exeunt singing
Come, come away to the tavern, I say;
For now at home is washing-day.
Leave your prittle-prattle, let's have a pottle:35
We are not so wise as Aristotle.
Scene V
Enter Clarimont and Florelio senior.
Clar. By heaven,
She's false, false as the tears of crocodiles,
Or what is yet more feign'd, I do confess.
Your pardon, Florelio, come, pray, your pardon;
Perchance I may deserve it.5
Flor. You have it, so has she;
Would heaven would do it as easily as I.
Clar. Heaven cannot do so foul an act. She has
O, she has done too much! And, should not I
See justice done, the gods would punish me.10
Brother, clear up!
The world shall not be one day elder, ere
I see thy injuries revenged.
This night the king will revel and be gamesome:
He will change beds with thee. Deny him not,15
And leave the rest to me.
Flor. Thy youth, I see, doth put thee on too fast:
Thou hast too much of passion, gentle brother.
Think'st thou the death of a poor lustful king
Or peer can give me ease?20
No; for, if it could,
My hand durst go as far that way as thine.
Had she been chaste, there had no tempters been;
Or, if there had, I had not thought it sin.
Draw not thy sword at all, I do beseech thee;25
'Twill not deserve one drop of noble blood.
Forget it, do, for my sake.
Clar. May heaven forget me then!
Where is the courage of thy house become?
When didst thou cease to be thyself? Shall two30
Brave families be wrong'd—most basely wrong'd—
And shall we tamely, like philosophers,
Dispute it without reasons?
First may I live the scorn of all the world,
Then die forgotten! No, no;35
Were there as many actors in thy wrong,
As does the vast stage of the world now bear,
Not one should 'scape my rage: I and my ghost
Would persecute them all.
By all our ties, of love, of brother, friend;40
By what thou hold'st most dear, I do conjure thee
To leave this work to me;
And, if e'er thou canst think
That I present thee not a full revenge,
Then take it out on me.45
Flor. Thy zeal hath overcome me:
What wouldst thou have me do?
Clar. Nothing but this.
Obey the king in all he shall desire,
And let your servants be at my dispose
This night. One of your faithful'st confidants50
Send hither presently.
Flor. Well, I shall; but what
You'll do, heaven knows: I know not, nor will I.
It is enough that I, against my will,
Am made a passive instrument of ill.
Farewell.[Exit55
Clar. So there is but this: the wanton king this night
Thinks to embrace my sister: his bed shall prove
His grave; his own favourite shall make it so.
I have persuaded him
She yields, and this night doth expect him: he,60
To make sure o' th' husband, by my advice, as if
He did intend some jest, means to change lodgings
With wrong'd Florelio the favourite.
Enter Petruchio
Petruchio, welcome! You have other clothes;
These I should borrow for a little while:65
In masquing times disguises are in fashion.
I have a pretty plot in hand;
And, if it take, 'twill be some crowns in thy way.
Pet. I shall pray hard it may, sir;
My clothes, howsoever, are at your service.70
Clar. And I
At yours, Petruchio. But you must be dumb
And secret now.
Pet. As any statue, sir.
Clar. Come, then, let us about it![Exeunt
ACT V
Scene I
Enter Lepido and Drollio
Drol. A rare masque, no doubt; who contriv'd it?
Lep. Marry, he that says 'tis good, howsoe'er he has made it,
Signior Multecarni.
Drol. Who, the poet-laureat?
Lep. The same.
Drol. O, then, 'twere blasphemy to speak against it.5
What, are we full
Of Cupids? Do we sail upon the vast,
And re-sail, and fetch the masque from the clouds?
Lep. Away, critic! thou never understood'st him.
Drol. Troth, I confess it; but my comfort is,10
Others are troubled with the same disease,
'Tis epidemical, Lepido; take't on my word.
And so let's in, and see how things go forward.[Exeunt
Scene II
Enter Francelia alone, weeping
Fran. Swell on, my griefs; and O, ye gentler tears,
Drop still, and never cease to fall till you
Become a boundless ocean, then drown
The source that sent you out,
And hide Francelia from her husband's sight,5
Her wronged husband's!
O, could my Florelio but see
How all hot flames within me are gone forth,
Sure he would love again! Yet sure he would not!
Heavens,10
How just you are, and, O, how wicked I am!
My heart beats thick,
As if my end were nigh; and would it were!
A better time death cannot take.
An absolution I have had, and have confest15
My unchaste love unto my ghostly father.
My peace is made above; but here below?—
What mak'st thou here, Petruchio?
Enter Clarimont like to Petruchio
Clar. [aside]. She weeps: the whore repents perchance. [Aloud] Madam,
It is my master's pleasure that this night20
You keep your chamber.
Fran. Thy voice and countenance are not the same;
They tell me that thy master is displeas'd.
Clar. Madam, it may be so; but that to me
Is as unknown as is the new-found world.25
I am his servant, and obey commands.
Fran. And so am I. I pr'ythee tell him so;
I will not stir.[Exit
Clar. How cunning is the devil in a woman's shape!
He had almost again persuaded me30
To have become her brother.
Enter Servant.
Ser. Petruchio,
The favourite is lighted at the door,
And asks to see my lady.
Clar. My lady is retired: where is he?[Exit Servant35
This to my heart's desire falls out.
Enter Bellamino the favourite
Bel. Where is Francelia?
Clar. My lord,
She is not well, and craves your lordship's pardon.
Bel. What, sick upon40
A masque-night, and when the king sends for her?
Come, come, that must not be: which way is she?[Clarimont steps to him, and whispers. He starts
By heaven!
Clar. By heaven!
Nor will she ever see you more, if he—45
Bel. I understand you—I am Bellamino—
If e'er he see the morning. I had decreed it;
Nor should he have surviv'd three days, had he
Been ne'er so silent. This night's his last, Petruchio:
This arm shall make it so; I will not trust50
My brother with the act.
Clar. Nobly resolv'd!
But how or where, my lord?
Bel. No matter where.
Rather than fail, I'll make the presence chamber
Be the place of execution.
Clar. Still nobly!
But, my lord55
Bel. 'But' again, Petruchio?
Clar. And again, my lord.
No, no, my lady loves you well, but loves
Her honour too; and there are ways (I hope)
To keep the one, and yet not lose the other.
Do not I know my lady lies alone,60
And will feign herself sick this night, and all
On purpose too? am not I to let you
Into her chamber,
And to give out, the fact once done, that he
Killed himself?65
[The play ends here imperfectly.]