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THE

PLAYS

OF

PHILIP M A S S I N G E R.

VOLUME IIL

^^

THE

PLAYS

OF

PHILIP MASSINGER,

IN FOUR VOLUMES.

WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY, By W. GILFORD, Esq.

HAUD TAMEN INVIDEAS VATI QUEM PULPITA PASCUNT.

VOLUME THE THIRD.

CONTAINING

THE MAID OF HONOUR.

THE PICTURE. -

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. "

THE FATAL DOWRY.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS

LONDON :

printed for g. and w. nicol; f. and c. uivincton ;

payne: barker; cadell and davies; miller; evans;

mawman; and i.ongman, hurst, rees, and CO.

By JV. Buhner and Co. Cleveland-Row, St. James's,

1805.

PR

1

/".

3

V

.^

"Vf

* J*

THE

MAlt) OF HONOUR.

VOL. III.

B

The Maid or IIonolr.] This " Tia2;i-comedy" does not appear, \uuler tlie j)roseiit title, in the Ofllce-book of Sir If. Herbert: but a jilay called the Honour of Women wz?, entered there May 6th, IfJ'iS, which Mr. Malone conjectures to l)e the piece before us. He speaks, however, with some hesitation on the subject, as a play of Massinger's, called the Spanish Viceroy f or the Honour of' IFojncn, was entered at Stationer's Hall, for Humphrey Mosely, in 1653. If this double title be correct, of which we may reasonably entertain a doubt, the plays cannot be the same; for among the dramatis persona? of the present, no such character as a Spanish viceroy is to be found. Sicily, indeed, was long governed by viceroys from Spain ; but Roberto IS here styled King, and constantly acts from himself.

Mr. Malone says, that the Maid of Honour v,a^ printed in 1 631. AH the cojiies wliich 1 have seen (for (here is but one edition) are dated 1632, which wul probably the earliest period of its appearance ; as we learu from the commendaiory verses prefixed to it by Sir Aston Cockayne, that it was printed after the Em- peror of the Eaat, which was not given to the press till this year. This Play was always a favourite, and, indeed, with strict justice ; for it has a thousand claiu.s to admiration and applause. It was frcqupiitlv acted, the old title-pa<;e tells us, '• at the Phu-nix in J)rurie-lane, with good allowance, by the Queen's Majesties servants." An attempt was made some ^ears since to revive it, by Mr. Kemblc, but, as 1 have been informed, with- out success.

TO

My most honoured Friends,

Sir FRANCIS FOLJ AMBE, Knt. and Bart.

AND

Sir THOMAS BLAND, Knt.

I HA T you have been, and continued so for many years, since you vouchsafed to own 7}ie, patrons to me and my despised studies, I cannot but with all humble thankfulness ac- knowledge : and living, as you have done, inseparable in your friendship, (notwithstanding all differences, and suits in law arising between you,) I held it as impertinent as absurd, in the presentment of my service in this kind, to divide you. A free coifession of a debt in a meaner man, is the amplest satisfaction to his superiours ; and I heartily wish, that the world may take notice, and from myself, that I had not to this time subsisted, but that I was supported by your frequent courtesies and favours. IV hen your more serious occasions* will give you leave, you may please to peruse this trifle, and peradventurefnd soriiething in it that may appear worthy of xjour protection. Receive it, I beseech you, as a testimony of his duty who, while he lives, resolves to be

Truly and sincerely devoted to your service.

PHILIP MASSINGER.

* When your maxQ serious occasions SfC.'] Mr. M. Mason omits more.

B2

DRAiVIATIS PERSONS.

Roberto, Icing of S\c\\y.

Ferdinaiul, duhc oJ'Urh'in.

BcrtoUlo, the khig's naiarul brother, a knight of

Malta. Goiizag'a, (I knight o/'^Ialta, general to thcdutchess

oy'Siciiiia. Astutio, a counsellor of state. Fulgcntio, the minion of Woherto. Adorni, a j'oUoxcer o/' Cam'iohis J'at her. Signior Sylli, aj'oolish selj-lover.

^ ' > txvo rich heirs, citu-bred,

O asparo, J ' -'

Pierio, a colonel to Gonzaga.

Ro(lerif>;o, 1 , ^ • , ,^

r ° p captains to Ooiiza2:a.

.lacoino, j ^ ^

X • • ' > captains to duke Ferdinand. Livio, J ^

Father Paulo, a priest, Caniiola's confessor.

Ambassadour from the dakeofV)x\n\\.

A Bishop.

A Pa<ye.

Aurelia, dutcliess o/"Sienna. Caniiola, the maid of hoxouh. Clarinda, her xcoman.

Scout, Soldiers, Gaoler, Attendants, Servants, ^'c.

SCENE, partly ///Sicily, and partly in the Sicnncsc

THE

MAID OF HONOUR

ACT I. SCENE I.

Palermo. A State-room in the Palace. Enter Ash xjT 10 ^/w^/Adorni.

Ador. Good clay to your lordship.

Ast. Thanks, Adorni.

Ador. May I presume to ask if the ambassadour Employ'd by Ferdinand, the duke of Urbin, Hath audience this morning ?

Enter Fulgentio.

Ast. 'Tis uncertain ; For, though a counsellor of state, I am not Of the cabinet council : but here's one, if he

please, That may resolve you.

Ador. I will move him. — Sir !

Fill. If you've a suit, shew water, I am blind else.

Ador. A suit ; yet of a nature not to prove The quarry that you hawk for : if your words Are not like Indian wares, and every scruple To be Aveigh'd and rated, one poor syllable, Vouchsafed in answer of a fair demand, Cannot deserve a fee.

6 THE !\IAID OF HONOUR.

FtiL It seems you are ig-norant, I neitlier speak iior liold my peace for nothing; And yet, for once, I care not if 1 answer One single question, gratis.

^Idor. I much thank you. Hath tlie aml)assa(i()ur audience, sir, to day?

Ful. Yes.

Ador. At Avhat liour ?

Ful. 1 jn-omised not so much. A sylhil)le you beggVl, my charity gave it; Move me no further. [E.vit.

yJ.st. This you wduder at : Witli me, 'tis usual.

Ador. Pray you, sir, what is he?

Jhl. A gentleman, vet no lord,* He liath some drops Of the king's blood luiining in his \eins, derived Some ten tlegrees off. His revenue lies In a narrow compass, the king's ear; and yields

lilm Every hour a fruitful liarvest. jNIen may talk Of three crops in a year in tlie Fortunate ^^lands, Or j)ioiit made by wool; but, Mhile there arc

suitors, His sheepshearing, nay, shaving to the (juick. Is in every c|uarter of the moon, and constant. In the time (jf trussing a point, he can undo Or make a nMii : liis phn- or recreation Is to raise this up, or pull down that ; and, though He ncxcr yet took orders, makes more hisliops III Sicily, than the pope himself

' Ast, y/ ucntlcmaii, //<Y fti; lord. | Would not (lir siiiirr l»^^ moro apparent, il tin- sciiUiirc wltc levcrsid ? As it ;j(aiids i\i»w, it is scarcfly iiiUllii;iljli'.

THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Enter Bertoldo, Gasparo, Antonio, and

a Servant.

Aclor. Most strange !

Ast. The presence fills. He in the Malta habit Is the natural brother of the king — a by-blow.

Ador. I understand you.

Gasp. Morrow to my uncle.

Ant. And my late guardian: — but at length I have The reins in my own hands.

Ast. Pray you, use them well, Or you'll too late repent it.

Bert. With this jewel Presented to Camiola, prepare, This night, a visit for me. [Ecvit Servant.'] I shall

have Your company, gallants, I perceive, if that The king will hear of war.

Ant. Sir, I have horses Of the best breed in Naples, fitter far To break a rank than crack a lance ; and are, In their career, of such incredible swiftness, They outstrip swallows.

Bert. And such may be useful To run away with, should we be defeated : You are well provided, signior.

Ant. Sir, excuse me ; All of their race, by instinct, know a coward, And scorn the burthen : they come on like light-

ning ;

Founder'd in a retreat.

Bert. By no means back them ; Unless you know your courage sympathize With the daring of your horse.

Ant. My lord, this is bitter.

8 THE MAID OF HONOUR,

Gasp. I M'ill raise me a company of foot ; And, when at push of pike 1 am to enter A breacli, to shew my valour I have bought' me An armour caiinon-i^roof.

Ikrt. You ^\ ill not leap, then, O'er an outMork, in your shirt ?

Gasp. I do not like Activity that way.

Bert. You had rather stand A mark to try their muskets on "

Gasp. If I do Ko ii:ooil, I'll do no Imrt.

Bert. 'Tis in you, signior, /

A Christian resolution, and becomes you i 13ut I will not discourage you.

^hit. You are, sii', A knight of jNIalta, and, as I have heard, Have served as>:ainst the Turk.

Bert. 'Tis true.

A)it. Pray you, shew us The difference between the cit\ valour. And service in the field.

Jjert. "Tis somewhat more

Than roarinsi; in a tavern or a bioilRl,

• -I

Or to steal a constable' from a sleej)ing Match.

Then burn their halberds; or, safe guarded by

» . — to shew im/ rnloiir, 1 hint boiijzlit vie^

Coxctcr and M. Mas(jn road, I have bivii^hl mc : thi' old copy ii> siircl)' rii;lit.

^ Or tu .steal a cni\siah\c from a sleeping 7D(itc/i,~\ For <liis ex- pression, so ex(|lli^itel\ hinnoroiis, llie modern editors !;ive n-^.

Or tii.s/ttil a laiillioni frurii a slujiiii^j; 'uii/c/i! It is srarrely possible (o rnurlv llicse wanton deviations Irom tlif uri^inal, \Mtlioiil hoin«' jlej^rce olMarniili. By no proeess in h\\\iH\iT\u>^ vi)\\\i[ /tiiit/iorn l>e written fov loii-^lnl'h : tiie. editors, Iherrlore, inti^l h.i\r i;raInitonslv taUin tipon tlieinseUes tlio relonualion oT the luni;ii;iL;r. l*itv lor the unthor must be mixed

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 9

Your tenant's sons, to carry away a may-pole From a neighbour village. You will not find

there, Your misters of dependencies'* to take up A drunken brawl, or, to i>'et you the names Of valiant chevaliers, fellows that will be, For a cloak with thrice-died velvet, and a cast

suit, Kick'd down the stairs. A knave with half abreech

there, And no shirt, (being a thing superfluous. And worn out of his memory,) if you bear not

with our indignation at their perverse temerity, when wc thus find them banisliing his most witty expressions from the text, under the bold idea of improving it!

It is the more singular that they should do this in the present case, as the sarfie thought, in nearly the same words, is to be found in f/ie lienegado. See Vol. II. p. 210.

4 ■f^oti will not find there

Your masters of dependencies &c.] Masters of dependencies "were a set of needy bravoes, who undertook to ascertain the authcntick grounds of a quarrel, awd, in some cases, to settle it for the timorous or unskilful.

" Your high offer,

" Taught by the masters of dependencies y " That, by compounding differences 'tween others, " Supply their own necessities, with mc " Will never carry it." The Elder Brother.

In this punctilious age, all matters relative to duelling Averc arranged, in set treatises, with a gravity that, in a business less serious, would be infinitely ridiculous. Troops of disbanded soldiers, or rather of such as pretended to be so, took up the " noble science of arms," and, with the use of the smallsword, (then a novelty.) taught a jargon respecting the various modes of " honourable quarrelling," which, though seemingly calcu- lated to batlle alike the patience and the understanding, was a fashionable object of study. The dramatick poets, faithful to the moral end of their high art, combated this contagious folly with the united powers of wit and humour ; and, after a long and well conducted struggle, succeeded in rendering it as con- temptible as it was odioiiSj and finally drove it fnom the stage.

10 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Yourselves botli in, and iipriglit, witli a provant

sworcP

Mi 11 slasli }'our scarlets and your plush a new

May ; Or M'ith the hilts thunder about your ears Sucli nuisick as vv^ill make yonr woi^hips dance To the doleful tune of Laciin'ma\'

, i

(iasp. 1 must tell 3'ou In prixate, as you are my princely friend, I do not like such fiddlers.

litrt. No ! thev are useful For your imitation ;* I remember you, ^Mien you came first to the court, and talk'd of

nothinii" But your rents and your entradas, ever chimiiii;- The o-olden !)ells in your pockets; you believed The taking of the ^v^A\ as a tribute ilue to

ixiiit a provant SMordiScc] A

yroxunt suord is a jilaiii, uiioniaim-ntod sword, such as soldiers are supplied witli by the state 'J'hus, in Jlirrtj ^lan in his llii. moiir, whtii Master Stephen produces his "' pure Toledo,"' Bobadil exclaims,

'• This a Toledo ? pish !

••■ Sfcpli. \\ h V do } ou pish ?

" Eiib. A Fleminc;, by heaven! Til buy Iheiu for a liuiider

a-piece, an I would have a thousand ol" them : a poor yro-

xant rapier ; no belter."

Properly siu-akinj;, provant means provisions : thus IVtillius, ill llie traced) of Ijuiiduca :

" All ni\ eonijianv ^^ Are MOW in love; ne'er think of meat, nor talk " 0{ w hilt pruiaiit is." But our old writers extend it (o ail the articles ^^lli^ll make u|) tlie maua/.ines of an arm\.

I( appears, from the [lointiui; of the rormer edilors, liuil they hail not the slightest notion of what (iieir aullioi was sa) ing.

* 'J'u the (luicf'tU tunc o/'Lachryma*. ] See t/ic Picture.

* J'ur 1/uiir imitation;! 'J'hus the (piarto: Mr. M. Mason reads, For your i/ntiu(iun ; an alteiatiun as void ul' mianiug as uf liarmunv .

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 11

Your gaudy clothes ; and could not walk at mid- night Without a causeless quarrel, as if men Of coarser outsides were in duty bound To sufter your affronts : but, when you had been Cudo-ell'd well twice or thrice, and from the

doctrine' Made protitable uses, you concluded, The sovereign means to teach irregular heirs Civility, with conformity of manners, Were two or three sound beatings.

Ant. I confess Thev did much good upon me.

Gasp. And on me : The principles that they read were sound.

Btrt. You'll find The like instructions in the camp.

Ast. The king !

A jlourish. Enter Roberto, Fulgentio, Am- bassadour, and Attendants.

Rob. We sit prepared to hear.

Amb. Your majesty Hath been long since familiar, I doubt not, With the desperate fortunes of my lord ; and pity Of the much that your confederate hatli suffer'd, You being his last refuge, may persuade you Not alone to compassionate, but to lend Your royal aids to stay him in his fall To certain ruin. He, too late, is conscious That his ambition to encroach upon His neighbour's territories, with the danger of His liberty, nay, his life, hath brought in question His own inheritance : but youth, and heat

andfroyn the doctrine

Made profitable uses, &c.J Sec the Emperor of the East.

12 THE IMAID OF HONOUR.

Of blood, in your interpretation, may ]3oth plead and mediate for him. I must grant it An errour in him, being denied the favours Of the fair princess of Sienna, (tliough He sought her in a noble way,) to endeavour To force afl'ection by surprisal of Her principal seat, Sienna, Rob. W\\\(Si\ now proves The seat of his captivity, not triumph: Heaven is still just.

Amb. And yet that justice is To be with mercy temper'd, Avhich heaven's

deputies Stand hound to minister. The injured diitchess, By reason taught, as nature, could not, with The reparation of her wrongs, but aim at A brave revenge ; and my lord feels, too late. That innocence will find friends. The 2:reat

Gonzaga, The honour of his order, (I must praise VirtuC; though in an enemy,) he whose fights And con(|ucsts hold one number, rallying up Her scatter'd troops, before we could get time To victual or to man the con(juer'd city. Sat down before it ; and, presuming that 'Tis not to be relieved, admits no jjarlcy, Our flags of truce hung out in vain: nor will

he Lend an car to composition, but exacts, M'ith the rendering up the town, the goods and

lives Of all within the walls, and of all sexes, 'I'o be at his discretion. Ri)b. Since iniustice In vour duke meets this correction, can vou

press us, A\'ith any seeming argument of reason,

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 1

'?

In foolish pity to decline^ liis dangers, To draw them on oursclf? Shall we not be WarnVl by his harms ? The league proclaim'd

between us Bound neither of us further than to aid Each other, if bv forei<;'n force invaded : And so far in mv honour I was tied. But since, without our counsel, or allowance, He hath ta'en arms ; with his good leave, he must Excuse us if we steer not on a rock We see, and may avoid. Let other monarchs Contend to be made glorious by proud war, And, with the blood of their poor subjects, pur- chase Increase of empire, and augment their cares In keeping that which was by wrongs extorted, Gilding unjust invasions with the trim Of glorious conquests ; we, that would be known The father of our people, in our study And vigilance for their safety, must not change Their ploughshares into swords^ and force them

from The secure shade of their own vines, to be Scorched with the flames of war; or, for our sport, Expose their lives to ruin.

Amb. Will you, then, In his extremity, forsake your friend ? ~ Rob. No ; but preserve ourself.

* In foolish pit 1/ to decline his dangers^ To draw them on oursc/f?^ To decline, here means to dirert

from their course; in which sense it is frequently met with ia

our old poets. Thus Jonson :

" . who declining

" Their way, not able, lor the throng, to follow,

" Slipt down the Gemonies." Sejanus.

Again, in his Forest:

" This makes, that wisely you decline your l^e " Far from the maze of custom, crrour, strii'e.'*

U THE MAID OF HONOUR.

BerL Cannot tlie beams Of liononr tliaw your icy fears?

Mob. W'hos that ?

Berf. A kind of brother, sir, howc'cr your subject ; Your fatlier's son, and one who ])luslies tliat You are not heir to his brave spirit and vigour, As to liis kina,-(b)ni.

Rob. How's til is !

Bert. Sir, to l)e His living- chronicle, and to speak his praise, Cannot deserve your anger.

Boh. M'here's your warrant For this presumption ?

Bert. Here, sir, in my heart : Let sycophants, that feed upon your favours, Style coldness in you caution, and prefer Your ease before your honour ; and conclude. To eat and sleep supinely is the end Of human blessings : I must tell you, sir. Virtue, if not in action, is a vice ; And, when wc move not forward, we go back- ward :'

/ must tell i/uii, .sir,

Flrtur, if nut in action, is a xicc ;

And -when -wc move not Jons urd, uc go backxcard :'\ This is a bcau(iriil iniprovi-riKMit on llorarc :

I'tiiihiiii Mjjit/ttr distat inertia: Ct/ulti lirtiis. It is, h()\M'vcr, burpussi'd J)) tlio spirited apostrophe of Jonson to liimbrir :

'' VVlii'if (lo^t (lioii liin-Icss lit^ "■ Buried in casi- and slolh ? <' Kri<)\vlt(L'f, lliat blorps, dolh die; " And tlii> M( urily,

*' It is the rumnion niotli ''^ 'IMi.il cals oil nit and arts, and so dostr())s thoni l)()(h."

I iidt rxioods. The last lini- ol tlic text alludes to the Latin adage : Awn //ro- f^rcdi est ngrcdi.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 15

Nor is this peace, the nurse of drones and cowards. Our health, l)ut a disease.

Gasp. Well urged, my lord.

yl7it. Perfect what is so mcU begun.

Amb. And bind My lord your servant

Rob. Hair-brain'd fool ! what reason Canst thou infer, to make this good ?

Bei^t. A thousand. Not to be contradicted. But consider Where your command lies : * 'tis not, sir, in

France, Spain, Germany, Portugal, but in Sicily ; An island, sir. Here are no mines of gold Or silver to enrich you ; no worm spins Silk in her womb, to make distinction Between you and a peasant in your habits ; No fish lives near our shores, whose blood can die Scarlet or purple ; all that we possess, With beasts we have in common : nature did Design us to be wardours, and to break through Our ring, the sea, by which we are environed ; And we b}^ force must fetch in what is wanting Or precious to us-. Add to this, we are A populous nation, and increase so fast, That, if we by our providence are not sent Abroad in colonies, or fall by the sword. Not Sicily, though now it were more fruitful Than when 'twas styled the Granary of great Rome,

* — Pyut consider

Where your command lies : &c.] Davies, I think, says, that here is an allusion to the afi'airs ot this coiuitry under James.

However that may bo, it is, at least, certain that the author, in this animated description, was thinking of England only. IW could scarcely be so ignorant of the natural history of Sicily as not to know how little of his description applied to that island ; ■while every word of it was perfectly applicable to this.

W THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Can yield our numerous fry bread ; avc must

starve, Or cat up one aiiotlicr.

Adur. TJie kini;- hears A\ itli much attention.

A.st. And seems moved with what Bcrtoldo liath deliver'd.

Bert. IVIay you live long, sir, The king- of peace, so you deny not us Tlie glory of the war ; let not our nerves Shrink up v/ith sloth, nor, for want of employment, Make younger brothers thieves: it is thcirswords,

sir, JMust sow and reap their harvest. If examples May move you more than arguments, look on

England, The empress of the European isles, And unto Mhom alone ours yields precedence: W'iien did she flourish so, as Mhen she was The mistress of the ocean, her navies l^iitting a girdle round about the world? When the Iherian (juaked, her worthies named; And the fair tlower-de-luee" gre\v pale, set by The red rose and the m bite ? Let not our armour Hung up, or our unrigg'd armada, make us Ki(licuh)us to the late poor snakes our neighbours, "WarnTd in our bosoms, and to whom again A\'e may i)c terrihli- ; while we spend our hours ^V'ithout variety, confmed to drink, Dice, cards, or whores. Ronse us, sir, from the

sleej) Of idleness, and redeem our mortgaged honours. \ our hirtli, and justl}-, chiinis my lather's king- dom ;

* And the fair liowcr-ilcliiro^ A fi( of oxfraordiiiary nircty lias Iktc sci/Lil the modi-ru cditois, aud tiny read, t/icjair llcur- dc-lu !

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 17

But his lieroick mind descends to me : I will confirm so mucli.

Ador. In his looks he seems To bi'eak ope Janus' temple.

Ast. How these younglings Take fire from him !

Ador. It works an alteration Upon the king.

Ant, I can forbear no longer : War, war, my sovereign !

Fid. The king appears Resolved, and does prepare to speak.

Rob. Think not Our counsel's built upon so weak a base, As to be overturn'd, or shaken, with Tempestuous winds of words. As I, my lord, Before resolved you, I will not engage My person in this quarrel ; neither press My subjects to maintain it : yet, to shew My rule is gentle, and that I have feeling O'your master's sufirerings, since these' gallants,

weary Of the happiness of peace, desire to taste The bitter sweets of war, we do consent That, as adventurers and volunteers, No way compell'd by us, they may make trial Of their boasted valours.

Bert. We desire no more.

Rob. 'Tis well; and, but my grant in this, ex- pect not Assistance from me. Govern as you please The province you make choice of; for, I vow By all things sacred, if that thou miscarr}" In this rash undertaking, I will hear it No otherwise than as a sad disaster,

' since these gallnnts,'\ So the old copies :

the modern editions read, since the gallants. VOL. HI. C

13 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Fallen on a stranger ; aiov will I esteem That man my subject, who, in tliy extremes, In purse or person aids thee. Take your fortune ; You know me ; I liave said it. So, my lord, You have my absolute'* answer.

Amb. My prince pays In mc his duty.

Rob. Follow me, Fulgentio, And you, Astutio.

[Flourish. Exeunt Roberto, Fulgentio, Astutio, and Attendants. Gasp. M'hat a frown he threw, At his departure, on you !

Bert. Let him keep His smiles for his state catamite, I care not. Ant. Shall we aboard to night? Amb. Your speed, my lord, Doubles the benelit.

Bert. I have a business Requires disi)atch; some two hours hence Fll meet you. [Fdeunt.

SCENE II.

The same. A Room in Camiola's House.

Enter Signior Syllt, rcalking fantasticalli/, fol- lowed bi/ Cam I OLA and Clauinda.

Cam. Nay, signior, this is too much ceremony In my own house.

4 So, 7)11/ lordy

Ynii hnvc mil absolute aiiyurr. \ Thus the (|Uiir(o : Coxotor and Ml. -M. Masdii, very cuirictl) as well as medic all) , read, 1 uic have vnj wliolc unyu;i:r .' liow little lius hitherto bccu sctu of MubiiiUjer I

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 19

Syl. What's gracious abroad, ^lust be in private practised.

Clar. For your mirth's sake Let him alone ; he has been all this morning In practice with a peruked gentleman-usher, To teach him his true amble, and his postures,

[Sylli walking by, and practising his postures. When he walks before a lady.

Syl. You may, madam, Perhaps, believe that I in this use art, To make you dote upon me, by exposing My more than most rare features to your view ; But I, as I have ever done, deal simply ; A mark of sweet simplicity, ever noted In the family of the Syllis, Therefore, lady, Look not with too much contemplation on me ; If you do, you are in the suds.

Cam. You are no barber ?

Syl. Fie, no ! not I ; but my good parts have drawn More loving hearts out of fair ladies bellies, Than the whole trade have done teeth.

Cam. Is't possible ?

Syl. Yes, and they live too ; marry, much con- doling The scorn of their Narcissus, as they call me. Because I love myself

Cam Without a rival. What philters or love-powders do you use, To force affection ? I see nothing in Your person but I dare look on, yet keep My own poor heart still.

Syl. You are warn'd — be arm'd ; And do not lose the hope of such a husband. In being too soon enamour'd.

Clar. Hold in your head, Or you must have a martingal.

20 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Si/i I have sworn Never to take a Avife, but such a one,

0 may your hulyship prove so strong! as can Hold out a nujiith against mc.

Catn. Never tear it ; Thougli your best taking i)art, your wealth, were trebled,

1 Avould not woo you. But since in your ])ity You please to give me caution, tell me what Temptations I must fly from.

Sij/. The first is, That you never hear me sing, for I'm a Syren : If you observe, when I warble, the dogs howl, As ravish'd with my ditties; and youM'ill Run mad to hear me.

Cam. I will stop my ears, And keep my little wits.

Si/i. Next, Mhen I dance, And come aloft thus, cast not a sheep's eye Upon the (juivering of my calf.

Ccnn. Proceed, sir.

.Sj//. Ihit on no terms, for 'tis a main point, dream not O' tir strengtb of my back, though it will beara

burllu'U With any porter.

Cdi/i. 1 mean not to ride you,

Sj/t. Nor I >()ui- little ladyship, till you have Perform'd tin- covenants, lie not taken m ith My pretty sj^idcr-lingers, nor my eyes, 'J'hat twinkle on ])Oth sides.

('(t//i. Was there ( \'er such A piece ofmotlev bcaid ol ! \.l l>)iochuii^ H'lthui.] \\ iio's tbat? [EaU Cl(in>uU(.\ Vou may spare Tbe eatal(>«j;ue of my (lani>ers.

Si//. No, good madam ; I l^ave not told you liall".

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 21

Cam. Enough, good signior; If I eat more of such sweetmeats, I shall surfeit.

Re-enter Clarinda. Whois't?

Clar. The brother of the king.

Sijl. Nay, start not. The brother of the king ! is he no more ? Were it the king himself, Td give him leave To speak his mind to you, for I am not jealous; And, to assure your ladysliip of so much, I'll usher him in, and that done — hide myself.

[Exit.

Cam. Camiola, if ever, now be constant: This is, indeed, a suitor, whose sweet presence, Courtship, and loving language, Avould have

staggered The chaste Penelope ; and, to increase The wonder, did not modesty forbid it, I should ask that from him he sues to me for: And yet my reason, like a tyrant, tells me I must nor give nor take it.^

Re-enter Sylli loith Bertoldo.

Syl. I must tell you. You lose your labour. 'Tis enough to prove it, Signior Sylli came before you ; and you know, First come first served : yet you shall have my

countenance To parley with her, and I'll take special care That none shall interrupt you.

Be7^t, Your are courteous.

5 I must HOT give nov take it. ^ This mode of expression, which is very frequent in Massinger, is almost as frequently changed by Mr M. Mason into / must not ^ive &c.

22 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Sijl. Come, wench, Avilt thou hear Avisdom ? Clar. Yes, from you, sir. [77/ej/ converse aside, Bert. If forcing this sweet favour Irom your lips, [^Kisses her.

Fair ma(him, argue me of too much l)oldness, AV'hcn you arc pleased to understand I take A parting kiss, if not excuse, at least 'Twill (jualify the offence.

Cam. A parting kiss, sir ! What nation, envious of the happiness Which Sicily enjoys in your sweet presence, Can huy you from her r'or what climate yield Pleasures"^ transcending those which you enjoy

here, Being hoth helovcd and lionour'd ; tlie north-star And guider of all hearts ; and, to sum uj) Your full accompt of happiness in a word, The brotlier of the king ?

Bert. Do you, alone, And with an unexampled cruelty, Enforce my absence, and deprive me of Those blessings M'hich you, with apolislfd phrase, Seem to insinuate that I do possess, And yet tax me as l)eing guilty of ^\y wilful exile? What are titles to me, Or popular suffrage, or my nearness to The king in blood, or fruitful Sicily, Though it confess\l no sovereign but myselt, \\ hen you, tbat are the essence of my being, 'llie anchor of my hopes, the real substance OK my felicity, in your disdain Turn'all to lading and deceiving shadows? i'dtn. \'()U tax me without cause. /)<//. Vou must confess it. l>ut aus\vi:i Invr with lovr. and .seal the con- tract In the uniting of our souN, how gladly

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 23

(Tliough now I were in action, and assured, Following my tbrtune, that plumed Victory Would make her glorious stand upon my tent) Would I put off my armour, in my heat Of conquest, and, like Antony, pursue My Cleopatra ! Will you 3et look on me With an eye of favour ?

Cam. Truth bear witness for me, That, in the judgment of my soul, you are A man so absolute, and circular In all those wish'd-for rarities that may take A virgin captive, that, though at this instant All scepter'd monarchs of our western world Were rivals with you, and Camiola worthy Of such a competition, you alone Should wear the garland.

Bert. If so, what diverts Your favour from me ?

Cam. No mulct in yourself, Or in your person, mind, or fortune.

Bert. What then ?

Cam. The consciousness of mine own wants : alas ! sir. We are not parallels ; but, like lines divided, ^

3 alas^ sir!

?re arc not parallels ; /m^, like lines divided, Can ne'er inect in one centre.^ This seems badly expressed. Parallels are the only lines that cannot meet in a centi-r ; for all lines divided with any angle towards each other, must meet somewhere, if continued both ways. Coxeter.

By lines divided, Massinger docs not mean, as the editor sup- poses, lines inclined to each other in any angle; but the divided parts of the same right line, which never can meet in one centre. M. Mason.

If Mr. M. Mason understands his own meaning it is well ; that of his author, I apprehend, he has not altogether made out. Our old writers were not, generally speaking, very cxp-rt ma- thematiciajiSj and therefore frequently coufounded the proper-

24 THE MMi) OF HONOUR.

Can ne'er meet in one centre. Your l^irth, sir, AVithout addition, were an ample dowry For one of fairer fortunes ; and this shape, Were you ignoble, far above all value : To this so clear a mind, so furnish"d with Harmonious faculties moulded from heaven. That though you were Thersites in your fea- tures, Of no descent, and Irus in your fortunes, Ulysses-like you'd force all eyes and ears To love, but seen ; and, w hen heard, wonder at Your matchless story: but all these bound up Together in one volume! — give me leave,

ties of lines aiul fisvurcs. Not only iMassincjcr, but many others who luid jiood means of iniormutiun, use piirulUla (as it seems to me) for radii. Dr. Sacheverell was accused by the wits, or rather whigs, of liis day, for speakini;, in his famous University Scr7!W)i, oi paralfe/ /iiics that vat in a centre. The cliariie appears to be just, for, though he chantjed (he e.xpression when tiie ser- mon was committed to the press, he retained his conviction of its proi'.ricty : •"'They," (temptations.) he sa}s, •" are the centre in >\hich all our passions terminate and join, thoui^h never so inuch npv^nant to each other,'"

In the IVoeme to Herbert's Traxcls, which wore j)rinted not lona; after t/ic Maid of Honaiir, a similar ( \pression is found : '' Clrtat ISritaine — containes tlie sunune and abrid;j,e(>f all soits of excellencies, luct here like parallels in t/uir proper centre."

In the life of Dr. II. More (1710) there is a letter to a cor- respondent who had sent him a pious treatisi', in >\hich the same expression occurs, anil is thus noticed by the doctor: *' There is but one passage that 1 remember, which will aflord thfin (tlie profane and atheistical rout of the aj^e) a disingenu- ous satisfaction ; whii li i>i in p. ^SO, where you sa^ (hat ttriiii^hi' linev drazvn front tlie center run parallel togither. To a candid reader your intended sense can be ni> other tiian that they run iraf a?>>.)i^a,-, that is, b\ one another: which the) ma\ do, (hough tliry do not run all along e(|uidi>laiillv one bv another, ^^hich ib the matluinadcal sense of (lie utud parallel."' Sec (»<•«/. Ma<r. .M.iy, I7S'J. Tin- nood doctor i--. I ihink, tin- bes( critick on (111- subj«?ct. tiial. Ikin \ ri ;ipp( arrd. and iiilluieniK explains Mabbinger.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 25

With admiration to look upon tlicm ;

But not presume, in my own flattering hopes,

I may or can enjoy them.

Bert. How you ruin What you would seem to build up! I know no Disparity between us ; you're an heir Sprung from a noble family ; fair, rich, young, And every way my equal.

Ca7n. Sir, excuse me ; One aerie with ])roportion ne'er discloses The eaffle and the wren/ — tissue and frieze In the same garment, monstrous ! But suppose That what's in you excessive were diminish'd, And my desert supplied, the stronger bar, Religion, stops our entrance : you are, sir, A knight of Malta, by your order bound To a single life ; you cannot marry me ; And, I assure myself, you are too noble

7 Cam. Sir, excuse me ; One aeric with proportion ne'er discloses

Tiie eagle and the wren: — ] The modern editors read 0«e airy •with proportion Sec. Upon which Coxeter observes, that " the passage is somewhat difficult." It means, however, he adds, " that one who is puft'ed up with an high opinion of his birth, (i. e. airy with proportion.^) will never stoop so low as Bertoldo must, to marry Camiola." ! To this Mr. M. Mason subjoins, that for discloses we should read encloses, and that the meaning is, " the airy that is fit for an eagle cannot be equally fit for a wren!" Poor Coxeter's blunder is sufficiently ridiculous; but did not Mr. M. Mason, who teiis us, in a note, of the absolute necessity of consulting and comparing contemporary authors, recollect those beautiful lines of Shakspeare?

" Anon, as patient as the female dove, " Ere that her golden couplets arc disclosed^ " His silence will sit drooping." Hamlet.

Disclose^ in shorty is constantly used by our old writers for hatch, as aerie is, for the nest of any bird of prey : and the meaning of this '' somewhat difficult passage" nothing more, than that eagles and wrens are too disproportionate iu bulk to be hatched in the same nest.

<16 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

To seek me, though my frailty should consent, In a biise path.

Bert. A dispensation, lady, Will easily absolve me.

Cam. O take liecd, sir ! When what is vow'd to heaven is dispensed with. To serve our ends on earth, a curse must toUow, And not a blessing.

Bert. Is there no liope left me ?

Cam. Nor to myself, but is a neighbour to Impossibility. True love should walk On equal feet; in us it does not, sir; But rest assured, e.\cej)ting this, I shall be Devoted to your service.

Btrt. And this is your Determinate sentence ?

Cam. Not to be revoked.

Bert. Farewell then, fairest cruel ! all thoughts in me Of M'omen perish. Let the glorious light Of noble war extinguish Love's dim taper," That onlv lends me liiiht to see mv follv : Honour, be thou my c\er-living mistress. And fond alfection, as thv bond-slave, serve thee !

[Kait.

Cam. How soon my sun is set, he being absent. Never to rise aiiain 1 What a fierce battle

'D'

J^t (he glorious light

(ff nii/'lf wtr I xtiir^ui.sli L(tvi''.s dim /«/><;•,] So the quarto: for which line line the iiioilorii editors c;iu' us,

l,et the glurioKs light

0/ iKililr utir fxtiiigiii.sh Love's di\ine taper! It Rfonis str;irii;f that no want ol harnwinv in the metre, no dr- fort of scnst' in Ihi- f\|)rt»ion, could ever rousi' iht-m into ;i suspieioii (if their inacturacN . I liavc not, liowcvcr, pointed out errr> crrimr to the rrader : in what has alnad\ pas( of this «( t., tliL* old reading ha» hrcn sileutly restored in numerous in> bUdcvs.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 27

Is fought between my passions ! — methiuks We should have kiss'd at partmg.

Syl. 1 perceive He has his answer^ now must I step in To comfort her. You have found, 1 hope, SAveet

lady, Some, difference between a youth of my pitch, And this bugbear Bcitoldo; men are men, The king's brother is no more : good parts will

do it, When titles fail. Despair not ; I may be In time entreated.

Cam. Be so now, to leave me. Lights for my chamber. O my heart !

[^Exeunt Camiola and Clarinda.

Syl. She now, I know, is going to bed, to ruminate Whicli way to glut herself upon my person ; But, for my oath's sake, I will keep her hungry : And, to grow full myself, I'll straight — to supper.

\Exit.

ACT 11. SCENE I.

The same. A Room in the Palace, JE;?^er Roberto, Fulgentio, and Astjjtio.

Rob. Embark'd to night, do you say ?

Fill. I saw him aboard, sir.

Rob. And without taking of his leave ?

Ast. 'Twas strange !

Rob. Are we grown so contemptible ?

28 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Fill 'Tisfar Prom mc, sir, to add fuel to your ani^er, That, in your ill opinion of him, burns Too hot already ; else, I should affirm It was a "TOSS netrlect.

Hob. A wilful seorn Of duty and allegiance; you g-ive it Too fair a name. Hut we shall think on't : can

you Guess what the nunUjcrs were, that follow'd him In his desperate action ?

Ful. ^lorc than you think, sir. All ill-aifected spirits in Palermo, Or to your government or person, with The turbulent swordmcn, such whose poverty

forced them To wish a change, are gone along with him ; Creatures devoted to his undertakings, In right or wrong : and, to express their zeal And readiness to serve him, ere they went, Profanely took the sacrament on their knees, To live and die with him.

Rob. O most impious ! Their loyalty to us forgot?

FuL 1 fear so.

Ast. Ihithankful as thev arc !

Ful. Yet this deserves not One troubled thought in you, sir; with your

pardon, I hold that their remove from hence makes more For vour securitv than danncr.

Rtih. True ; y\nd, as I'll lashion it, they shall feel it too. Astiitio, you .shall pres(;ntly be dispatch'd With letters, Mrit and bign'd with our

own

'hand, To the di\tchess of ijicnna, in excuse

*j

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 29

Of these forces sent against her. If you spare An oath, to give it credit,' that Ave never Consented to it, swearing for the king, Though false, it is no perjury.

Ast. I know It. They are not fit to be state agents, sir, That, w ithout scruple of their conscience, cannot Be prodigal in such trifles.

Ful. Right, Astutio.

Rob. You must, beside, from us take some instructions. To be imparted, as you judge them useful, To the general Gonzaga. Instantly Prepare you for your journey.

Ast. With the wings Of loyalty and duty. [Exit^

Fill. I am bold To put your majesty in mind

Rob. Of my promise, And aids, to further you in your amorous project To the fair and rich Camiola: there's my ring; Whatever you shall say that I entreat, Or can command by power, I will make good.

Fill. Ever your majesty's creature.

Rob. Venus prove Propitious to you ! \Ejoit,

Ful. All sorts to my Mishes ; Bertoldo Avas my hindrance : he removed, I now will court her in the conqueror's style; Come, see, and overcome. Boy !

9 . Jf you spare

An oath, to give it credit, &c.j This detestable doctrine is unworthy of the kins, who has hitherto conducted himself with propriety, and preserved some degree of interest with the reader. iVlassinger, however, has taken suflicient care to dis- close his own ideas of such pernicious tenets, which, I hopcj were never fashionable, by the ridicule which he dexterously flings over them iu the subsequent speeches.

30 THE" MAID OF HONOUR.

Enter Page.

Page. Sir ; your pleasure ?

Ful. Haste to Camiola ; bid her prepare An entertainment suitable to a fortune She could not hope for. Tell her, I vouchsafe To honour her with a visit.

Paze. 'Tis a fiivour Will make her j)roud.

Ful. I know it.

PaL!;e. 1 am gone, sir. [Eiit.

Ful. Entreaties lit not me; a man in grace May challenge awe and privilege, by his place.

[Exit.

SCENE H.

The same. A Room in Camiola's House.

Enter Adorxi, Sylli, and Clarixda.

/idor. So melancholy, say you 1 *

Clar. Never given To such retirement.

Ador. Can you guess the cause ?

ilar. If it hath not its l)irth and being from The brave liertoldo's absence, 1 confess 'Tis j)ast my apprehension.

Sijl. You are wide, The wlnde field wide.* I, in my understanding, pity your ignorance ; — yet, if}ou will

* A(l(»r. So nuUiiicholy, «fli/ you ! \ So the old copii-s : (lie inodt^ni t-ditiuns read, So nielancholicL !

' The vluilr firld nidr. \ This lii;niisti(li is {Jropt hy Mr. M. M4HOU : it siijiiifii'S littlt- llnil the nu-asurr ot two liius ibS|.'iUd by his ucj^lii^cncc, for, a» he niudcdtly su)s oi hi> cditiuii)

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 31

Swear to conceal it, I will let you know Where her shoe wrings her.

Ckir. I vow, signior, By my virginity.

Syt. A perilous oath, In a waiting-woman of fifteen ! and is, indeed, A kind of nothing.

Ador. I'll take one of something, If you please to minister it.

Syl. Nay, you shall not swear : I had rather take your word ; for, should you vow, D — n me, I'll do this ! — you are sure to break.

Ador. I thank you, signior; but resolve us.

6j//. Know, then. Here walks the cause. She dares not look upon

me ; My beauties are so terrible and enchanting, She cannot endure mv siji'ht.

Ador. There I believe you.

Sill. But the time will come, be comforted, when I will Put off this vizor of unkindness to her, And shew an amorous and vieldino- face: And, until then, though Hercules himself Desire to see her, he had better eat His club, than pass her threshold ; for I will be Her Cerberus to guard her.

Ador. A good dog !

Clar. Worth twenty porters.

Enter Page.

Page. Keep you open house here ? No groom to attend a gentleman ! O, I spy one.

*' correctness is the only merit it pretends to." The expression, howiiver signior Sylli picked it up, is a Latinism : £nasj tot* %ia abcrras.

S2 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Syl. He means not me, I am sure,

Pagt. You, sirrah sheep's-head, With a face cut on a cat-stick, do you\j[ieav ? You yeoman fcMterer,^ conduct me to The lady of the mansion, or my poniard Shall disendjOi>;ue thy soul.

Si/l. O terrihle ! Disembogue! I talk'd of Hercules, and here is one Bound up in decimo sexto.^

Page. Answer, wretch.

Syl. Pray you, little gentleman, be not so furious ; The lady kecjjs her chamber.

Page. And we present ! Sent in an endjassy to her ! but here is Her gentlew onian : sirrah ! liold my cloak, A\'hile I take a leap at her lij)s ; do it, and neatly ; Or, having first trlpp'd uj) tliy heels, I'll make Thy hack rny footstool. \_Kii)Ses Clar'uida.

Sj/i. Tainl)erlane in little ! Am 1 turn'd 'J'urk !* ^\'hat an oilice am I put to!

C/iir. My lady, gentle youth, is indisposed.

Page. 'I'hough she were dead and buried, oidy tell her. The great man in the court, the bi-.i\'c i iilgeutio, Desceiuis lo \ isit her, and it will raise her Out nttlic grave for joy.

' l'o« yi'oniaii IVw li TCP,] Sec t/ir Vict iirv.

* / t(ilL\l of IlcrcuU's., ithd here is one

Bound up in (k'cimo soxto. 1 We liavc already had lliis c\- pn'ssi(iii applied (o a pa^e. \ ol. I. p. 17(j. Indeed, no author, wifli whiini I am ae(|ii.iiiili'd, n-peats himsell ho iVecjuenll) , ami ■with so little ecriMuoiiy, as Massiiigfr.

5 .h/i /luriiMTurk ! ] Is my situation or occupation chani^cd. In thi-) sens • tlw pluas.- ollon occurs in oin" old ihauiatists. Set^ Vol. 11. p. 'ILU.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 33

Enter Fulgentio.

Syl. Here comes another 1 The devil, I fear, in his holiday clothes.

Paoc. So soon ! My part is at an end then. Cover my shoulders; When I grow great, thou shalt serve me.

FuL Are you, sirrah, An implement of the house ?

Si/l. Sure he will make A jointstool of me !

Ful. Or, if you helong To the lady of the place, command her hither.

Ador. I do not wear her livery, yet acknowledge A duty to her ; and as Uttle bound To serve your peremptory will, as she is To obe}^ your summons. 'Twill become you, sir, To wait her leisure ; then, her pleasure known, You may present your duty.

FuL Duty ! Slave, I'll teach you manners.

Ador. I'm past learning ; make not A tumult in the house.

Fid. Shall I be braved thus ? [TV^^j/ draw,

SyL O, I am dead ! and now I swoon.

[Falls on his face.

Clar. Help ! murder 1

Fagc. Recover, sirrah ; the lady's here.

Enter Camiola.

i^yl. Nay, then I am alive again, and I'll be valiant. [Rises.

Cam. What insolence is this ? Adorni, hold, Hold, I command you.

FuL Saucy groom !

VOL. III. D

54 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Cam. Not so, sir ; However, in his life, he had dependence Upon my father, he's a gentleman As well born as yourself.^ Put on your hat. Fill. \\\ my presence, Avithout leave ! Syl. He has mine, madam. Cam. And I must tell you, sir, and in plain lansiHiaire, IIo\vc"er your glittering outside promise gentry, The rudeness of your carriage and behaviour Speaks you a coarser thing.

Syl. She means a clown, sir; I am her interpreter, for want of a better.

Cam. I am a (lueen in mine own house; nor must you Expect an empire here.

Syl. Sure, I must love her Before the day, the pretty soul's so valiant. Cam. \\'hat are you ? and what would you with

me ? Ful. Proud one, When you know what I am, and what I came for. And may, on your submission, proceetl to. You in your reason must repent the coarseness Of my entertainment.

Cam. ^V'lly, fme man ? what are you ? Fal. A kinsman ot'tlif king's. Cam. I cry you nuTcy, For his sake, not your own. P>ut, grant you are so, "fis not impossible but a king may have A foci to bis kinsman, — no way meaning you, sir. Ful. \ on bavc heard of I'ulgentio r Cam. Eong since, sir;

He's a "cntlcwan

As ZLcll horn as i/ihiim//'. \ Tliis is the socoml pas^ajzo, in tlic compass of little more than a pago, which j» uliully onuilcil l)y Mr. .M. M.i.ou !

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 55

A suit-broker in court. He has the worst Report among good men, I ever heard of, For bribery and extortion : in their prayers. Widows and orphans curse him for a canker And caterpillar in the state. I hope, sir, You are not the man ; much less employed by him, As a smock-agent to me.

Fill. I reply not As 3^ou deserve, being assured you know me ; Pretending ignorance of my person, only To give me a taste of your wit : 'tis well, and

courtly ; I like a sharp wit well.

Syl. I cannot endure it ; Nor any of the Syllis.

Fill. More ; I know too, This harsh induction must serve as a foil To the well-tuned observance and respect You will hereafter pay me, being made Familiar with my credit with the king, And that (contain your joy) I deign to love you.

Cam. Love me ! I am not rapt with it.

Fill. Hear't again ; I love you honestly : now you admire me.

Cam. I do, indeed ; it being a word so seldom Heard from a courtier's mouth. But, pray you,

deal plainly. Since you find me simple ; what might be the

motives Inducing you to leave the freedom of A bachelor's life, on your soft neck to wear The stubborn yoke of marriage; and, of all The beauties in Palermo, to choose me, Poor me? that is the main point you must treat of

Ful. Why, I will tell you. Of a iittle thing

D2

3G THE .MAID OF HONOUR.

You are a pretty peat/ indifferent fair too; And, like a new-rig^-'d ship, l)oth tight and yare, AVell trussed to bear: virgins of giant size Are shiggards at tlie sport ; but, for my pleasure, Give nie a neat well-timber'd gamester like you ; Sueh need no spurs, — the quiekness of your eye Assures an active spirit.

Cam. You are pleasant, sir; Yet I presume that there was one thing in me UnmentionVl yet, that took you more than all Those parts vou have remembered. Ful. N\'liat? Cam. My wealth, sir.

Fnl. You are in the right; without that, beauty is A flower worn in the morninL^ at night trod on: But beauty, youth, and fortune, meeting in you, I w ill vouchsafe to marry you.

Cam. You speak well ; And, ill return, excuse me, sir, if I l)eli\er reasons why, upon no terms, ril marrv vou ; I fable not.

Sill. 1 am glad To hear this ; I began to have an ague. Ful. Come, vour wise reasons. Cam. Such as thev are, i)rav vou take them : .First, I am doubtful w hether you are a man, Since, for your shape, trimnfd up in a lady's

(hessinu:, You might pass for a woman ; now I love To deal on certainties : and, for the iairness Of your (•om[>le\ion, which you think will t:ike nie,

7 You are a prctti/ peat, | For peat the nnxlcra fditors aro jilrasnl to f^ive ub puce; a coUoiiuial baibuiiiin ol our own tiuii's.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. :3/

The colour, I must tell you, in a man Is weak and faint, and never will hold out, If put to labour : give me the lovely brown, A thick curPd hair of the same die, broad

shoulders, A brawny arm full of veins, a leg without An artificial calf; — I suspect yours ; But let that pass.

Syl. She means me all this while, For I have every one of those good parts ;

0 Sylli ! fortunate Sylli ! Cam. You are moved, sir. Ful. Fie ! no ; go on.

Cam. Then, as you are a courtier, A graced one too, I fear you have been too for- ward ; And so much for your person. Rich you are, Devilish rich, as 'tis reported, and sure have The aids of Satan's little fiends to get it ; And what is got upon his back, must be Spent you know where; — the proverb's stale.

One w^ord more, And I have done.

Ful. I'll ease you of the trouble, Coy and disdainful !

Cam. Save me, or else he'll beat me. Ful. No, your own folly shall ; and, since you put me To my last charm, look upon this, and tremble.

[Sliexvs the king's ring. Cam. At the sight of a fair ring ! The king's, I take it ?

1 have seen him wear the like : if he hath sent it As a favour to me

Ful. Yes, 'tis very likely ; His dying mother's gift, prized at his crown:

38 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

By this he does command you to he mine ; By his gift you are so : — you may yet redeem all. Cam. You are in a MTong account still. Though the king may Dispose of my life and goods, my mind's mine

own, And never sliall be your's. The king, heaven

bless him ! Is good and gracious, and, being in himself Alistemious from base and goatish looseness, Will not compel, against their wills, chaste

maidens To dance in his minion's circles. I believe, Forgetting it when he wash'd his hands, you

stole it, With an intent to awe me. But you are cozcn'd ; I am still myself, and will be.

Fill. A proud haggard, And not to be reclainfd ! which of your grooms, Your coachman, fool, or footman, ministers Kight-physick to you ?

Cam. You are foul-mouth'd. Ful. Much fairer Than thy hlack soul; and so I will proclaim thee. Cum. Were I a man, thou durst not speak this. Fill. Heaven So j)rospcr me, as I resolve to do it To all men, and in every place ; — scorn'd by A tit of ten-pence ! [Ktciui/ fu/L^c/iiio lifid Fagc.

Sijl Now I i)egin to i)C valiant : Nay, I will draw my sword. O for a lnothcr !' Do a friend's part; pray you, carry liim tlic length oft.

• 0 for a butrhiT !

Do afrirnd'/i pari., &c. ] Tliis is a <nu' picture oi a lop. No- tiling could l)c iiioic abjectly iVurlul than this our bravado,

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 39

I give him three years and a clay to match my

Toledo, And then we'll fight like dragons. yidor. Pray, have patience. Cam. 1 may live to have vengeance: my Ber- toldo Would not have heard this.

Ador. Madam ,

Cam. Pray you, spare Your language. Prithee fool, and make me merry."

when in danger : but, now his enemy is gone, he swaggers about most courageously. Now I begin to he valiant : nay^ I icill draw my sword. 0 Jar a butcher ! The bloody cruel temper of one.

CoXETER.

Ofor a butcher!] It is impossible that the words should con- vey the sense that the editor attributes to them. It is a difficult passage, and my conjecture may possibly be erroneous, but I should read it thus :

Nay, I will draw my sword: Ofor a bout ! Here,

Do a friend's pari, &c. M. Mason.

Sylli is no fop, but a fool : one of those characters which the audiences of Massinger's time looked for in every piece that came before them. By fool, I do not mean such as are found in Shakspeare, compounds of archness, knavery, petulance, and licentiousness, infinitely diversified, (for to the production of such our poet was not equal,) but a harmless simpleton, whose Tanity is too puerile, and cowardice too abject, to excite in our times either interest or mirth : — for the rest, nothing can be more contemptible than the jargon of Coxeter on his own erroneous reading. I have consulted all the copies to which I had access, and they concur in reading, O for a brotlur ! (with the single exception, indeed, of Mr. Malone's, Avjiich reads butcher,) i. e. a brother in arms, (I suppose to do what he imme- diately after requests Adorni to do for him,) a common expres- sion at the time, and well undrrstood by Massingm-'s audience. The grave remark of Mr. M. Mason on the spurious reading of Coxeter is truly ridiculous. Why did he not examine the old copies ?

9 Cam. Pray you., spare

Your language. Pri/heefool, and make mc merry. 1 i. e. pi a}' the fool. An explanation that would have been wholly unnecessary,

40 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

SyL That is my office ever. Addr. I must do, Not talk ; this glorious gallant sliall hear from mc.

[E.rtunt.

SCENE HI.

77ie Sicunesc.* A Camp before the JValls o/' Sienna.

TJie Chambers shot off : a Flourish as to an As- sault : ajter ichich, enter Goxzaca, Pierio, Rod Ell I GO, J AC o mo, and Soldiers.

Gonz. Is the breach made assaultable ?

Pier. Yes, and the moat Fill'd up; the cannoneer hath done liis parts; ^ We may enter six abreast.

Rod. There's not a man Dares shew himself upon the w all.

Jae. Defeat not The soldiers' ho})ed-fol' spoil.

Fitr. ir you, sir, Delay the assault, and the city be given up To your discretion, you in honour cannot

if the modern editors had not mistaken the sense, and therefore altered tlie j)assai;;e. They read, in d(N|)i(e of l!n' metre,

i';'//j/ ;/«;/, .sjxirc

Your ituiij,itugc. Prit/iec, foof, make me mcny.

' T/ic Sieiinese. c\.-e. | Here, as in the Duke of Milan, Coxeter attempted to particnlari/.e tlie place of aetion, l)ut Mith as little hiuecss as before. See \'ol. 1. p. 235. He reads. The Cast/e at Sienna: tlii>>, liDwi-vcr, vas in tlie hands of the dnke of I rbin ; uliilr (lonza^a and his arm) are desiribed a> lyin^ encamped bcfure llir walls of (he (own; which (he\ are now prei);iiin^ to assunlt. riu- ( astle i^\ Sienna, if easlle it niii>( be, shonhl be pla( 1(1 at the head of tin* next scene. Air. *M. Mason coj)ics all these ubsurdttics, us usual.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 41

Use the extremity of war, — Ijut, in Compassion to them, you to us prove cruel.

Jac. And an enemy to yourself.

Rod. A liinch'ance to The brave revenge you have vow'tl.

Gonz. Temper your heat, And lose not, by too sudden rashness, that Which, be but patient, will be offer'd to you. Security ushers ruin ; proud contempt Of an enemy three parts vanquish'd, with desire And greediness of spoil, have often wrested A certain victory from the conqueror's gripe. Discretion is the tutor of the war, Valour the pupil ; and, when we command With lenity, and our direction's foUow'd With cheerfulness, a prosperous end must crown Our works well undertaken.

Rod. Ours are linish'd

Pier. If we make use of fortune.

Gonz. Her false smiles Deprive you of your judgments. The condition Of our affairs exacts a double care, And, like bifronted Janus, we must look Backward, as forward : though a flattering calm Bids us urge on, a sudden tempest raised, Not feared, much less expected, in our rear May foully fall upon us, and distract us To our confusion.

Enter a Scout.

Our scout ! what brings Thy ghastly looks, and sudden speed ?

Scout. The assurance Of a new enemy.

Gonz. This I foresaw and fear'd. What are they, know'st thou '^

42 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Scout. They are, by their colours, Sicilians, ])ravely mounted, and the briglitness Of their rich armours doubly gilded Mith Reflection of the sun.

Oonz. From Sicily ?

The king" in league ! no war proclaim'd ! 'tis foul ; Rut this must be prevented, not disputed. Ha ! how is this ? your estridge^ plumes, that but Even now, like quills of porcupines, seem'd to

threaten The stars, drop at the rumour of a shower, And, like to captive colours, sweep the earth ! Rear uj) ; but in great dangers, greater minds Arc never proud. Shall a few loose troops, un-

train'd But in a customary ostentation. Presented as a sacrilice to your valours, Cause a dejection in you -^

Fk7\ No dejection.

Hod. However startled, where you lead we'll follow.

Goiiz. 'Tis bravely said. We will not stay their charge, But meet them man to man, and horse to horse. Pierio, in our absence hold our place, And with our foot men, and those sickly troops, Prevent a sally. 1 in mine own person, M'ilh part of the cavallcry,' will bid

* iiour est ridge /y/MW/M, &c.] For

eitridgc the modern rditions road u.strich : — but this is not (lu* oiil) rapr'uioiis alteration m hicli they have- iiitroiliucd into this bi'iuitilnl siJi'cch.

' With part of the ravallcrv,] So it mnsl br sprit, and so (he quarto spi-lls it: tlif niixlfrn cdilion^ have camln/, whieh is not nictri', nor an\ (hiiiy like metre. '|'!ie old expression is neither incorrerl, nor uiicoimuon, as 1 could easily show, il it were at tU ut'ccsaur)'.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 4:i

These hunters welcome to a bloody breakfast : But 1 lose time.

Fier. Til to my charge. [Eait.

Goriz. And we To ours : I'll bring you on.

Jac. If we come off, It's not amiss ; if not, my state is settled.

[E.veunt. Alarm xvithbi-.

SCENE IV.

The same. The Citadel of Sienna.

Enter Ferdinand, Druso, and Livio, oji the

Walls,

Fer. No aids from Sicily ! Hath hope forsook us ; And that vain comfort to affliction, pity. By our vow'd friend denied us ? we can nor live Nor die with honour: like beasts in a toil. We wait the leisure of the bloody hunter, Who is not so far reconciled unto us, As in one death to give a period To our calamities ; but in delayino^ The fate we cannot fly from, starved with wants. We die this night, to live again to morrow, And suffer greater torments.

F)ru. There is not Three days provision for every soldier, At an ounce of bread a day, left in the city.

Liv. To die the beggar's death, with hunger made Anatomies while we live, cannot but crack Our heart-strings with vexation.

Fer^ Would they would break,

44 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Break altoircthcr ! How AviU'mnlv, like Cato, CouKl I tear out my bowels, rather than Look on the eonqueror's insulting faee ; But that religion, and the liorrid dream To be suffered in the other world, denies it I

Enter a Soldier.

Wliat news with tlicc ?

Sold. From the turret of the fort, By the rising' elouds of dust, through which, like

lightning, The splendour of bright arms sometimes brake*

through, I did descry some forces making towards us; And, from the camp, as emulous of their glory, The general, (for 1 know him by his horse,) And bravelv seconded, encountered them. Their greetings were too rough lor triends; their

swords, And not their tong'ues, exchanging courtesies. By this the main battalias are join'd ; And, if you please to i)e sjjectators of The horrid issue, I will bring you Mhere, As in a theatre, you may see their fates In pnrjile gore presented.

Fcr. Heaxen, if yet Thou art appeased for my wrong <hine to Aurelin, Take pity of my miseries ! Leatl ihe way, tVinid.

\Ed\'U)it.

* The .splcjiffnur of bri^Iif (inns so/in/i/ms hraki" t/irou^/i,'] Uoth Coxi'fcr and Mr. .M. MasDii conuiit bnikc iiilo I'ltuk, tlioiigli i< 1)1' ai raiil iiniisrnsi' !

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 45

SCENE V.

The same. A Plain near the Camp.

A long Charge: of ter which, a Flourish for victory; then enter Gonzaga, Jacomo, and Roderigo wounded; Bertoldo, Gasparo, a;?^ Antonio Prisoners.

Go)2Z. We have them yet, though they cost us clear. This was Charo-ed home, and bravelv foUow'd. Be to

yourseh^es True mh'rors to each other's Avorth; and, looking With noble emulation on his wounds, The glorious livery of triumphant war,

\To Jacomo and Roderigo. Imagine these with equal grace appear Upon yourselves. The bloody sweat you have

sutler 'd In this laborious, nay, toilsome harvest, Yields a rich crojj of conquest ; and the spoil, Most precious balsam to a soldier's hurts, Will ease and cure them. Let me look upon

[Gasparo and Antonio brought forward. The prisoners' faces. Oh, how much transform'd From what they were 1 O Mars ! were these toys

fashion'd To undergo the burthen of thy service ? The weigbt of their defensive armour bruised Their weak effeminate limbs, and would have

forced them, In a hot day, without a blow to yield.

Ant. This insultation shews not manly in you. Go7iz. To men I had forborn it; vou are women,

46 THE :\IAID OF HONOUR.

Or, at the best, loose carpct-kiiiglits/ What fury Seduced you to cxcliani»e your ease in couit For labour in tlie Held ? perhaps, you tho-.^-ht To charge, through dust and blood, an armed foe, Was but like graceful running at the ring For a wanton mistress' glove ; and the encounter, A soft impression on her lips : but you Are gaudy butterflies, and I wrong myself In i)arling witJi you.

Crasp. ra: Tict'is ! now wc prove it.

Rod. But here's one fashion'd in another mould, And made of toucher metal.

• yon arc uomcrii

Or, at the best, looss rarpet-lcniglits.] Carpet -hn'irjilsy a term of contempt very frt-'qut'iitly used by our old writers, Arore such as were made on occasion of pubiick teslivities, niurria^es, birtlis, &c. in contradistinction to those that were created on the held of battle after a victory. They were nafurallv little regarded by the latter ; and, indeed, their title had loi;;^ been pivtn, in scorii, to etVeminate courtiers, favourites, &c. To coufino, as some do, the expression to the knights made by James I. is evidently er- roneous; since it was in use, and in the opprobrious sen;>t' of the text, bel'ore he was born, i hope it mIII iiot be llioni^iit that I have loaded the paijc with sujierlluous quotations, which it has been my chief study to avoid : — there is. however, so beautiful a passage in Fletcher's I'air Maid oj the Inn, that, as it is not altogether irrelevant to the subject, 1 cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing it : " Oh the brave danies

'■'■ or warlike ()i'i\oa! (he> had eyes to see *■' The inward man ; and only from his worth, *' i'ourngc and cuiifjucstA', tlu' blind archer knew '* To liead his siiafts, or lii;lit his (|ui'nclied torch ; '• They were proof again.st him else ! No carpi t-knig/itf *' That spent his youth in groves or jileasant bowers, '^ Or slretehiuii on a couch his la/,\ limbs, '• Snug to lii-^ lute such soil anil |)liasing notes *' As 0\n\ nor .\iiacn'i)ii v\v\ knew, " ("oiild woik on I In 111, nor once bi'wilch'd their sense, *' Tlioui;li h'- run ■ so jicrrum'.!, as he had rubl)'d ** Sabca or Arabia ot (heir Mcaltli, *^ And stored it in one suit.''

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 47

Gonz. True ; I owe him For this wound bravely given.

Bej^t. O that mountains Were heap'd upon me, that I might expire A wretch no more remem])er"tl \

Go7iz. Look up, sir ; To be overcome deserves no shame. If j^ou Had fallen ingloriously, or could accuse Your want of courage in resistance, 'twere To be lamented : but, since you perform'd As much as could be hoped for from a man, (Fortune his enemy,) you wrong yourself In this dejection. I am honour'd in My victory over you ; but to have these My prisoners, is, in my true judgment, rather Captivity than a triumph : you shall find Fair quarter from me, and your many wounds. Which I hope are not mortal, with such care Look'd to and cured, as if your nearest friend Attended on you.

Bert. When you know me better, You will make void this promise : can you call me Into your memory ?

Gonz. The brave Bertoldo ! A brother of our order ! By St. John, Our holy patron, I am more amazed, Nay, thunderstruck with thy apostacy, And precipice from the most solemn vows Made unto heaven, when this, the glorious

badge Of our Redeemer, was conferr'd upon thee By the great master, than if I had seen A reprobate itw, an atheist, Turk, or Tartar, Baptized in our religion !

Bert. This I look'd for; And am resolved to suffer Gonz. Fellow-soldiers,

48 THE MAID OT HONOUR.

Beliold this man, and, taug'bt by his example, Know that 'tis safer tar to phay with lig-litiiing*, Than tritle in things sacred. In my rage [ll'eeps. I slic'd these at the funeral of his virtue, Faith, and religion : — wliy, I will tell you ; He was a gentleman so train'd up and fashion'd For noble uses, and his youth did promise Such certainties, more than hopes, of great

achievements, As — if the Christian world had stood opposed Against the Othoman race, to try the fortune Of one encounter, this Bertoldo had been. For bis knowledge to direct, aiul matcldcss cou- rage To execute, without a rival, l)y The votes of good men, chosen general, As the prime soldier, and most deserving Of all that wear the cross ; which now, injustice, I thus tear from him.

Bert. Let me die with it Uj>on my breast.

G'inz. No ; ]>y this thou wcrt sworn, On all occasions, as a knight, to guard A\'eak ladies from oppres-.ion, and never To dra\v^ thy sword against them ; whereas thou, In hope of gain or glory, when a princess, And such a princess as Aurelia is, Was dispossess'd l)y \ iolence, of what was Her true inheritance; against thine oath Hast, to tby utteimost, labour'd to uphold Jler fdling enemy. Hut tiiou sbalt ])ay A bca\y forfeiture, and learn too late, \'alour em|)l()y'(l in an ill (pianel, turns To eowardu'c, and \'irtue then j)uts on I'oul \' ice's visor. This is that which cancels All trien(khi|>'s bands between us. — lieartbem off; 1 will hear no reply : au<l let the lansome

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 49

Of these, for they are yours, be highly rated.

In this I do but rioht, and let it be

Styled justice, and not wilful cruelty. [Exeunt.

ACT III. SCENE L

_ The same. A Camp before the 1 Falls o/* Sienna.^

Enter- Gonzaga, Astutio, Roderigo, and

Jacomo.

Gonz. What I have done, sir, bv the law of arms I can and will make good.

Ast. I have no commission To expostulate the act. These letters speak The king my master's love to you, and his Vow'd service to the dutchess, on whose person I am to give attendance.

Gonz. At this instant, She's at Fienza :^ y'ou may spare the trouble Of riding thither; I have advertised her Of our success, and on what humble terms Sienna stands : though presently I can Possess it, I defer it, that she may Enter her own, and, as she please, dispose of The prisoners and the spoil.

Ast. I thank you, sir. In the mean time, if I may have your license, I have a nephew, and one once my Mard, For whose liberties and ransomes I M'ould gladly Make composition.

' Shcs at Fienza:] So the old copies. The modern editors read Piciiza.

VOL. III. E

50 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Gonz. Tliey are, as 1 take it, Call'd Ciasparo and Antonio.

A,st. Tlic same, sir.

Gonz. For tlicni, voii must treat with these hut, for Bertoldo, He is mine own : if tlie kinii^ will ransome him, He pays down fifty thousand crowns ; if not, He lives and dies my slave.

Ast. Prav you, a word : The kino- will lather thank vou to detain him, Than oive one crown to free hi

m.

Gonz. At his pleasure. I'll send the prisoners under guard : my business Calls me another M'ay. [Edit.

yl.st. My service waits you. Now, gentlemen, do not deal like merchants with

me, Fnit noble captains ; you know, in great minds, Posse et nolle, nobilc.

Rod. Pjay you, speak Our lani;uao;e.

Jac. I lind not, in my commission, An officer's bound to speak or understand INIore than his mother-tongue.

Rod. U" he speak that After luidiiight, 'tis remarkable.

A.st. l\\ plain terms, then, Antonio is your j)ris()ner ; Gasparo, yours.

Jac. You are in the right.

Ast. At what sum do you rate Their several ransomes ?

Jlod. I must make my market As the connnodity cost me.

Ast. As it cost you ! You did not buy your c.aptaiusliip: your desert, I hoj)c, advanced you.

Rod. How! It well ai)pcars

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 51

You are no soldier. Desert in these days ! Desert may make a serjeant to a colonel, And it may hinder him from rising higher; But, if it ever get a company, A company, pray you mark me, without money, Or private service done for tlie general's mistress. With a commendatory epistle from her, I will turn lanceprezado/

Jac. Pray you ohserve, sir : I served two prenticeships, just fourteen years, Trailing the puissant pike, and half so long- Had the right-hand iile; and I fought well,

'twas said, too : But I might have served, and fought, and served

till doomsday. And ne'er have carried a flag, but for the legacy A bucksome widow of threescore bequeath'd me; And that too, my back knows, 1 labour'd hard for, But was better paid.

Ast. You are merry with yourselves : But this is from the purpose.

Rod. To the point then, Prisoners are not ta'en every day; and, when We have them, we ' nmst make the best use of

them. Our pay is little to the part wq should bear, And that so long a coming, that 'tis spent Before we have it, and hardly wipes off scores At the tavern and the ordinary,

Jac. You may add, too. Our sport ta'en up on trust.

Rod. Peace, thou smock-vermin !

7 / t;;/// ^u/7« lanceprezado. ] " The lowest range and meanest officer in an army is called the lanccpesado or prezado, who is the leader or governor of half a file ; and therefore is commonly called a middle man, or captain over four."

The Soldicr''s Acc.dence, p. 1 .

E2

52 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Discover commanders* secrets ! — In a Mord, sir, AV'e have cncjuired, and find our prisoners rich : Two tliousand crowns apiece our companies cost

us ; And so mucli each of us will have, and that In present pay.

Jac. It is too little : yet, Since you have said the Mord, 1 am content, But will not 2:0 a <»azet less.'

Ast. Since you are not To be brought lower, there is no evading; Til he your paymaster.

Rod. ^\'c desire no better.

Ast. But not a word of what's agreed between us. Till I have school'd my gallants.

Jac. I am dund), sir.

Enter a Guard icltJi Bertoldo, Antonio, and Gasparo, in irons.

Bert. And where removed now? hath the tvrant found out Worse usage for us ?

Ant. Worse it cannot l)e. My grayhound lias fresh straw, and scraps, in his

kennel ; But we have neither,

(iasp. Did I ever think To wear such carters on silk stockings : or That my too curious apjjctite, thatturn'd At the sight of godwits, pheasaut, partridge, (juails,

' lUit XL- ill not ;'o a cazrt /«•««.] \ gazct ( -(■:jl7.(/^ is a Wno- tiaii coin. Morlli uboiil (liri'f.futtliiii^s ufotir in()iu>> . The prUy Italian roiirant (fo^ilio d'awist) was originally sold for this sum ; hence it lii-riviMl tiic nanu", wliich is now common to all the nc>\3- ^lupcrti of Europe.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 53

Larks, Avoodcocks,calver'd salmon,' as coarse diet, Would leap at a mouldy crust?

Ant. And go without it, So oft as I do ? Oh ! how have I jeerVl The city entertainment ! A huge shoulder Of o'lorious fat ram-mutton, seconded With a pair of tame cats or conies, a crah-tart, With a worthy loin of veal, and valiant capon Mortified to grow tender! — these I scorn'd From their plentiful horn of abundance, though

invited : But now I could carry my own stool to a tripe, And call their chitterlings charity, and bless the

founder. Bert. O that I were no further sensible Of my miseries than you are ! you, like beasts, Feel only stings of hunger, and complain not But when you're empty : but your narrow souls (If you have any) cannot comprehend How insupportable the torments are, Which a free and noble soul, made captive, suffers. Most miserable men! and what am I, then, That envy you? Fetters, though made of gold.

9 . calver'd salmon, j For calvcr''d salmon,

Mr. M. Mason, who had not yet discovered the necessity " of reading with attention the dramatick productions of the time;" gives us collar'' d salmon ! The old expression, however, is not uncommon : indeed it occurs agiain in the following pages:

" great lords sometim<_>s,

" For change, leave calve/d salmon, and eat sprats."

T/ie Guardian.

" My footboy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmon.,

" Knot, godwits, &c." The AlcJmnist.

This dish was not out of request in Shadwell's time: Tope (in the ScOiOrersJ says, " I came here to venture for a good stomach to my calver'd salmon and turbot." It appears to have diliercd but little from what is now called pickled salmon ; as the direc- tions for preparing it are—" to boil it in vinegar with oil and spices."

54 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Express base thraltlom ; and all delicates Prepared by Median cooks tor epicures, When not our own, are bitter; quilts lillcl hii^h With iiossamore and roses cannot yield The body soft repose, the mind kept waking With aniiuish and attliction.

Ast. jVIv L^-ood lord

Bert. This is no time nor place for flatter) , sir: Pray you, style me as I am, a wretch forsaken Of the world as myself.

A.st. I would it were In me to help you.

Btrt. If that you Avant power, sir, Lip-comfort cannot cure me. Pray you, leave nic To mine own private thoui>hts. [// alk.s b\j.

A.st. My valiant nephew ! And my more than warlike ward ! I am glad to

see you, After your glorious concpiests. Are these chains liewards for your good service? if they are. You should wear them on your necks, since they

are massy. Like aldermen of the Mar.

A))t. Von ]eer us too !

Gat^p. Good uncle, name not, as }ouareaman of honour, That fatal word of war; the very sound of it Is n\ore dreadful than a cannon.

Ant. Ihit rede ni us From this captivity, and III vow hereafter Ne\ c T to wear a sword, or cut my meat A\ itii a knife that has an edgi- or point; 111 starve first.

Hasp. I will cry bnjoms, or cat's-meat, in Palermo; Turn porter, cany burthens, any thing, Rathei' than li\e a soldit r.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 55

Ast. This should have Been thought uj3on before. At what price, think

you, Your tM'o wise heads are rated ?

Ant. A calf's head is More worth than mine; I'm sure it has more

brains in"t, Or I had ne'er come here.

Rod. And I will eat it With bacon, if I have not speedy ransome.

A7it. And a little garlick too, for your own sake, sir : 'Twill boil in your stomach else.

Gasp. Beware of mine, Or the horns may choak you; I am married, sir.

Ant. You shall have my row of houses near the palace.

Gasp. And my villa ; all

Ant. All that we have.

Ast. Welljhavemore wit hereafter: forthistime, You are ransomed.

Jac. Off with their irons.

Rod. Do, do : If you are ours again, you know your price.

Ant. Pray you dispatch us : I shall ne'er believe I am a free man, till 1 set mv foot In Sicily again, and drink Palermo, And in Palermo too.

Ast. The wind sits fair, You shall aboard to night ; with the rising sun You may touch upon the coast. But take your

leaves Of the late general first.

Gasp. I will be brief.

Ant. And I. My lord, heaven keep you !

Gasp. Yours, to use In the way of peace; but as your soldiers, never.

56 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

A?it. A pox of M'ar ! no more of war.

[Exeunt Rod. Jac. JaL and Gasp

Bert. Have you Authority to loose their bonds, yet leave The brother of your kina;, Avhose worth disdains Comparison witli such as tliese, in irons ? If ransome may redeem them, I have lands, A patrimony of mine own, assigned me By my deceased sire, to satisfy A\ hate'er can be demanded for my freedom,

A.st. I wisli you had, sir; but the king, who yiehls No reason for liis will, in his displeasure Hath seized on all you had; nor will Gonzaga, Whose prisoner now you are, accept of less Than fifty thousand crowns.

Bert. I find it now, That misery never comes alone. But, grant The king is yet inexorable, time May M'ork him to a feeling of my sufferings. I have friends that swore their lives and fortunes

were At my devotion, and, among the rest, YourjiClf, my lord, when foifeited to the law For a ioul murder, and in cold blood done, I made youi' life my gift, and reconciled you To this incensed king, and got your j)ar(!()n. — Beware ingratitude. 1 know you arc rich, And mav pay down the sum.

Afit. I might, my lortl ; But pardon mc.

llcrl. And will Astutio ])rove, then, To please a passionate man, (the king's no more,) False to his maker, and his reason, wliicii Commands more than lask.' ()sun)nuM-fricn(lshi|), Whose ikittering leaves, that sliadowM us in our J^rosperity, w ith the least gusl drop olf

THE MAID or HONOUR. 57

III the autumn of adversity ! How like A prison is to a grave! Mdien dead, wc are With solemn pomp brought thither, and our heirs, Masking their joy in false, dissembled tears, Weep o'er the herse ; but ear.th no sooner covers The earth brought thither, but they turn avv'ay With inward smiles, the dead nomoreremembefd; So, enter'd in a prison

Ast. My occasions Command me hence, my lord.

Bert. Pray you, leave me, do ; And tell the cruel king, that I will wear These fetters till my tlesh and they are one Incorporated substance. [Edit Astutio.] In myself, As in a glass, FU look on human frailty. And curse the height of royal blood: since I, In being born near to Jove, am near his thunder.* Cedars once shaken with a storm, their own Weight grubs their roots out. — Lead me where

you please ; I am his, not fortune's martyr, and will die The great example of his cruelty. [E.rit guarded.

SCENE II.

Palermo. A Grove near the Palace.

Enter Adorn i.

Ador. He undergoes my challenge, and con- temns it. And threatens me with the late edict made 'Gainst duellists, the altar cowards fly to.

* In being horn near to Jove, am near his ihundcrJ] Iloffw Aio? y.at t; woffw y.ifxvi>i. Wo havc already had an allusion to this proverb. Vol. I. p. 22.

SS THE MAiU OF HONOUR.

But I, tliat am engaged, and iiourisli in me A liigher aim tlian fair Camiola dreams ol", Must not sit down thus. In the court I (hire not Attempt him ; and in j)uhlick he's so guarck-d With a lieid ofparasites, cUcnts, fools, and suitors, Tliat a musket eannot reacli him : — my designs Achnit of no dehiv. This is lier hirthdav, A\'hich, M ith a ht and due solemnity, Camiohi celehrates ; and on it, all such As h)ve or serve her usually present A trihutary duty. I'll have something To give, if my intelligence prove true, Shall find accci)tance. I am told, near this grove Tulgentio, every morning, makes his markets AVith his petitioners; I may present him

With a sharp petition ! Ha ! 'tis he : my fate

Be ever hless'd for't !

Enter FuLGENTio and Page.

Fid. Command such as wait me Not to presume, at the least for half an hour, To press on my retirements.

Fdi^e. I will sav, sir, You are at your prayers.

/'///. That \\\\\ not find hclicf ; Courtiers have something else to do : — be gone, sir. [EAit F(/oc.

Challenged! 'tis well; and hy a groom! still

better. Was tliis shape made to fight? 1 ha\c a tongucr

Howe'er no sword, to kill him ; and w hat May, This morning I'll resolve of. [K.iit.

ytdor. 1 shall cross Your rcsohitinn, or suifi r lor you.

[ Fill, Jollou'ifig hull.

THE MAID OV HONOUR. 69 SCENE in.

T/ie same. A Room in Camiola's House.

E}iter Camiola, foUoxced by Servants zvith Pre- sents; Sylli, and Clarinda.

Syl. What are all these ?

Clar. Servants with several presents, And rich ones too.

1 Serv. With her hest wishes, madam, Of many such days to you, the lady Petula Presents you M'ith this fan.

Q Serv. This diamond From your aunt Honoria.

3 Serv. This piece of plate From your uncle, old Vicentio, with your arms Graven upon it.

Cam. Good friends, they are too Munificent in their love and favour to me. Out of my cabinet return such jewels As this directs you: — [To Clarhida.] — for your

pains ; and yours ; Nor must you be forgotten. [Gkcs them mov.cy.]

Honour me With the drinking of a health.

1 Serv. Gold, on my life !

9. Serv. She scorns to give base silver.

3 Serv. Would she had been Born every month in the year 1

1 Serv. Month ! every day.

2 Serv. Shew such another maid.

3 Serv. All happiness wait you ! Clar. I'll see your will done.

[Exeunt Syliij Clarinda, and Servants,

60 THE MAID OF IIOXOUK.

E72 ter A D o R N I wounded.

Cam. How, Adorni M'oundcd !

Ador. A scratch got in your service, else not worth Your observation: I bring not, madam, In honour of" your birthday, antifjue phite, Or pearl, tor M'liich the savage Indian dixes Into tlie bottom of tlie sea ; nor diamonds Hewn from steep rocks witli danger. Sucli as give To those that lune, what thev themselves want,

aim at A glad return with profit : yet, despise not ]\Iy offering at the altar of your favour; Nor let the lowness of the giver lessen The height of what's presented : since it is A precious jewel, almost forfeited. And dimm'd with clouds of infamy, redeenrd, And, in its natural splendour, with addition Restored to the true owner.

Cam. How is this r

Ador. Not to hold \oii in susnense, I brinu: you, nuulam. Your wounded reputation cured, the sting Of virulent malice, festerini*; your fair name, Pluck'd out and trod on. That proud man, that

\vas Denied tlie honour of your bed, yet durst, With his untrue rei)orts, strumpet your fame, CompeU'd by me, hath given himself the lie. And in his own blood wrote it : — you may read I'ulgentio .Md):-.r)-ibcd. [OJ/cri/ig a paper.

Cai/t. I am amazed !

Ador. It docs deser\e it, madam. COnunon service Is fit for hind.s, and the reward proportion'd

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 6\

To their conditions : therefore, look not on me

As a follower of your father's fortunes, or

One that subsists on yours; — you frown! my

service IMerits not this aspect.

Cam. AV'hich of my favours, I might say bounties, hath begot and nourish'd This more than rude presumption ? Since you had An itch to try your desperate valour, wherefore Went you not to the war? couldst thou suppose My innocence could ever fall so low As to have need of thy rash sword to guard it Ao'ainst malicious slander? O hoM' much Those ladies are deceived and cheated, when The clearness and integrity of their actions Do not defend themselves, and stand secure On their own bases ! Such as in a colour Of seeming service give protection to them. Betray their own strengths. Malice scorn'd, puts

out Itself; but argued, gives a kind of credit To a false accusation. In this, this your IVIost memorable service, you believed You did me right;- but you have wrong'd me more In your defence of my undoubted honour, Than false Fulgentio could.

Ador. 1 am sorry ^vhat Avas So well intended is so ill received ;

Re-enter Clarinda.

Yet, under your correction, you wish'd Bertoldo had been present.

Cam. True, I did : But he and you, sir, are not parallels, Nor must you tliink yourself so.

Ador. I am what You'll please to have me.

62 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Ca7}2. If Bertolclo had Punish'd riilgentio's insolence, it liad slicwn His love to her whom, in his judgment, he Vouchsafed to make his wife ; a height, I hoj)c, Which you dare not aspire to. TJie same actions Suit not all men alike; — but I perceive Repentance in yourlooks. For tliis time,leaveme, I may foigive, perhaps forget, your folly : Conceal yourself till this storm he blown over. You ^vill be sought for; yet, if my estate

[Gives him Jier hand to ki^s. Can hinder it, shall not sutler in my service.

Ador. This is something yet, though I miss'd the mark 1 shot at. [Exit.

Cam. This gentleman is of a noble temper ; And I too harsh, perhaps, in my reproof: Was I not, Clarinda?

Clar. I am not to censure Your actions, madam ; but there are a thousand Ladies, and of good fame, in such a cause A\'ould be proud of such a servant.

Cam. It may be ;

Enter a Servant.

Let me offend in this kind. ^Miy, uncall'd for?

Scrr. The signiors, madam, CJasparcj and Antonio, Selected friends of the rcnown'd luTtoldn, Put ashore this morning.

Cam. Without him -

iSe/T. 1 lliink so.

Cmn. Never think more then.

Scrv. 'I'liey ha\ t- been at court, Kiss'd th( king's hand; and, their first tluties donr To him, ;ij)p( ai and)itiou>. to lender To \'>n their second service;.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 63

Cam. Wait them hither. \EiTt Servant,

Fear, do not rack me ! Reason, now, if ever, Haste with thy aids, and tell me, such a wonder As my Bertoldo is, with such care fashion'd, Must not, nay, cannot, in heaven's providence

Enter Antonio and Gasparo.

So soon miscarry ! — pray you, forhear; ere you

take The privilege, as strangers, to salute me, (Excuse my manners,) make me first understand How it is witli Bertoldo.

Gasp. The relation Will not, I fear, deserve your thanks.

A?it. I wish Some other should inform you.

Cain. Is he dead ? You see, though with some fear, I dare enquire it. Gasp. Dead ! Would that Avere the worst, a debt were paid then. Kings in their birth owe nature.

Cam. Is there aught More terrible thai> death ?

Ant. Yes, to a spirit Like his ; cruel imprisonment, and that Without the hope of freedom.

Cam. You abuse me :^ The royal king cannot, in love to virtue, (Though all springs of affection were dried up,) But pay his ransome.

Gasp. When you know what 'tis, You will think otherwise : no less will do it Than fifty thousand crowns.

* Cam. You abuse «ze:] i. e. practise on ray credulity with a forged tale : the word often occurs in this sense.

64- THE MAID OF HONOUR.

3

'5

Ca77L A petty sum, The price weii»;h'(l ^\ith the purchase; fifty

thousand ! To the king- 'tis uothino-. He tliat can spare more To liis minion for a mask, cannot but ransome Such a brother at a million. You wron"- The kin""'s maLj-nificence.

ylnt. In \ our opinion ; But 'tis most certain : he does not alone In himself refuse to pay it, but forbids All other men.

Cain. Are you sure of this ?

Gasp. You may read The edict to that purpose, publish'd by him; That M'ill resolve you.

Cam. Possible ! pray you, stand off; If I do not mutter treason to myself, ]\Iy heart will break; and yet I Mill not curse him ; He is my king. The news you have deliver'd flakes me weary of your company ; we'll salute "When we meet next. Til bring you to the door. Nay, pray you, no more compliments.

Ga.y). One thing more. And that's substantial : let your Adorni Look to liimself.

yltU. The kino; is much incensed Ao'ainst him for Tulgentio.

Cai7i. As I am, Tor your slowness to depart.

Jiol/i. Farewell, sweet lady.

[EA'cm/t Ciasparo and Anlonio.

Ca)n. () more than impious times ! when not alone Subordinate ministers of justice are

' .7 pttt) v (/;//, J Till' old copies rt^id a /)/<//(/ sum ; and aro! prubal)!) liiilit: prctti/ is oltcii used in tlu' stiiM- of trilling;, iucunbiiUTuljlf, \'c. b) our unciont writers.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 65

Corrupted and seduced, but kings tliemselvcs,

Tlie greater wheels by Mhich the lesser move,

Are broken, or" disjointed ! could it be, else,

A king, to sooth his politick ends, should so far

Forsake his honour, as at once to break

The adamant chains of nature and religion,

To bind up atheism/ as a defence

To his dark counsels ? Will it ever be,

That to deserve too much is dangerous,

And virtue, when too eminent, a crime ?

]\lust she serve fortune still, or, when stripp'd of

Her gay and glorious favours, lose the beauties

Of her OAvn natural shape ? O, my Bcrtoldo,

Thou only sun in honour's sphere, how soon

Art thou eclipsed and darken'd ! not the nearness

Of blood prevailing on the king ; nor all

The benefits to the general good dispensed,

Gaining a retribution ! But that

To owe a courtesy to a simple virgin

Would take from the'' deserving, I find in me -

Some sparks of fire, which, fann'd with honour's

breath, i\Iight rise into a flame, and in men darken Their usurp'd splen,dour. Ha ! my aim is high, And, for the honour of my sex, to fall so,

* Are broken, or disjointed !~\ So all the editors till Mr. M. Mason, who choosos to read — Are broken and disjointed. If the "wheels were once broken, the state of their joints was a matter of no great consequence.

5 To bind up atheism,] Our old writers seem to have used such words as profaneness, blasphemy, at/ieism, <S:c. with a laxity which modorn practice docs not acknowledge. They ap- plied them to any extraordinary violation of moral or natural decorum.

^ JVoidd take front the deserving^ The modofti editors read, t/ii/ deserving. 1 have followed the quarto. The observation is general, not limited to her lover. I need not observe on the nncomnion beauty of this spirited speech. VOL. III. F

66 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Can never prove ingloriuus. — Tis resolved : Call in Aclorni.

Clar. I am happy in Such an employment, madam. [Esit,

Cam. lie's a man, I know, that at a reverent distance loves me ; And such are ever taitlitul. What a sea Of melting ice I walk on ! Mhat strange censures Am I to undergo ! but g-ood intents Deride all future rumours.

Re-enter Clarinda tvith Adorn i.

Ador. I obey Your summons, madam.

Cam. Leave the place, Clarinda ; One woman, in a secret of such ^\'eight, Wise men may think too much: [^Exit Clarinda.^

nearer, Adorni. ■ I warrant it with a smile.

Ador. I cannot ask Safer j)rotection ; what's your will ?

Cam. To doubt Your ready desire to serve me, or prepare you "With the repetition of former merits. Would, in my dilVidcnce, wrong you : but 1 will, And without circumstance, in tbe trust that 1 Impose upon you, free you from suspicion.

Ador. I foster none of you.

Cam. I kuow you do not. You are, Adorni, by tlu' love you owe me

Ador. Tbe surest conjuration.

Ca)n. Tak(^ me witb you.' — Love born of duty ; but advance no further. Y(ni are, sir, as 1 said, to do me scrx ice, To undertake a task, in wliicb your laitii,

. ' Take mc luU/i j/ou.j Sec Vol. 11. p. 188.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 67

Judgment, discretion — in a word, your all That's good, must be engaged ; nor must you

study, In the execution, but what may make For the ends I aim at.

Ador. Tiiey admit no rivals. Cam. You answer well. You have heard of Bcrtoldo's Captivity, and the king's neglect ; the greatness Of his ransome ; fifty thousand crowns, Adorni ; Two parts of my estate ! Ador. To what tends this ? Cam. Yet I so love the gentleman, for to you I will confess my weakness, that I purpose Now, Avhen he is forsaken by the king. And his own hopes, to ransome him, and receive

him Into my bosom, as my lawful husband — Why change you colour ? Ador. 'Tis in wonder of Your virtue, madam.

Cam. You must, therefore, to Sienna for me, and pay to Gonzaga This ransome for his liberty ; you shall Have bills of exchange along with you. Let him

swear A solemn contract to me, for you must be My principal witness, if he should — but Avhy Do I entertain these jealousies ? You will do this ? Ador. Faithfully, madam — but not live long- after. [Aside, Cam. One thing I had forgot: besides his freedom. He may want accommodations; furnish him . Accordino; to his birth : and from Camiola Deliver this kiss, printed on your lips,

[Kisses him. F2

6s THE MAID OF IIOXOUR.

ScalM on his liand. You shall not see my blushes : ril instantly dispatch you. [E.vit.

Ador. 1 am half Hano'd out o'the Avav already. — M'as there ever Poor lover so employ'd against himself To make M'ay for his rival ? 1 must do it, Nay, more, I Avill. If loyalty can lind Recompense beyond hope or imagination, Let it fall on me in the other Morld, As a reward, for in this I dare not hope it. \^E.iit,

ACT IV. SCENE I.

The Siennesc. yl Camp before the JJ'alls o/' Sienna.

Enter Gonzaga, Pierio, Rodkiugo, and

Jacomo.

(iu/iz. You have seized upon the citadel, and disarm'd All that could make resistance?

Pier. II II n ire r had Done that, before we came ; nor \vas the soldier Compeird to seek for prey : the famish'd wretches. In ho])c of mercy, as a sacrifice olfer'd All that was worth the taking.

Gu)n. You ]MT)claim"d, On pain ot" death, no violence should be o(l'cr"d To any woman ?

Rod. l^ut it needed not ; I'or famini; had so humliicd tlum, and tai'u olV The cari' of liieir sex's Ikjuoui-, llial llurc was

not So coy a beauty in tlie town, Imt woidd,

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 69

For half a mouldy biscuit, sell herself

To a poor bisognion/ and without shrieking.

Gonz. Where is the duke of Urbin ?

Jac. Under guard, As you directed.

Gonz. See the soldiers set In rank and file, and, as the-<lutchess passes, Bid them vail their ensigns;' and charge thcni,

on their lives, Not to cry Whores.

Jac. The devil cannot fright them From their military license. Though they know They are her subjects, and will part with being To do her service ; yet, since she's a woman. They will touch at her breech with their tongues ;

and that is all That they can hope for.

\_A sJiout, and a general erif within, W^hores ! whores !

Gonz. O the devil ! they are at it. Hell stop their brawling throats. Again! make

And cudii'el them into iellv. Rod. To no purpose,

^ To a poor bisognion,] Bisogni, in Italian, signifies a recruit. M. Mason.

Mr. M. Mason's Italian is nearly as correct as his English. Bisogno is sometimes, indeed, used lor a soldier in his first cam- paign, (a ti/ro,) but for a recruit, in our sense of the m ord, I l)elicve, never. A bisognion (from bimgnoso,) is a necessitous person, a beggar, &c. In our old writors it frequently occurs as a term of contempt.

9 Bid them vail their ensigns ;\ i. e. lower them, in token of superiour authority :

" Now the time is come

" That France must xail her lofty-plumed crest,

*' And let her head fall into England's lap."

h'irat I'urt of King Henri/ VI.

70 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Though their mothers were there, they woukl have the same name for them. [^Exeunt.

SCENE II.

TJie same. Another Part of the Cainp.

Loud mu. sick. Enter ^odkiugo, Jacomo, Pif.rio, GoNZAGA, and Aurelia under a Canopy. As- IMT 10 presents her ivith letters.

Gonz, I do beseech your highness not to ascribe To the want of discipline the barbarous rudeness Of the soldier, in liis profanation of Your sacred name and virtues.

Anret. No, lord general ; I've heard my father say oft, 'twas a custom Usual in the camp; nor are they to be {)unish\l For words, that have, in fact, deserved so well : Let the one excuse the other.

yill. Excellent princess !

Aurel. l]ut for these aids from Sicily sent against us. To blast our sj^ring of concjuest in the bud; I cannot find, niv lord and>as.sadour, How we should enti rtain"t but as a wrong, A\ ith ])urpose to detain us from our ow n, HoM'e'er the king cndeaNours, in his letters, To mitigate; the allront.

Ast. \ Our grace hereafter May hear fidin me such strong assurances Of bi^ unlimited desires to serve you. As will, I liopi', droun in forgctt'ulncss 'J'bc nieiuoi^ ot ulials past.

AurcL W'c shall take time

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 71

To search the depth oft further, and proceed As our council shall direct us.

Gonz, We present you With the keys of the city, all lets are removed ; Your way is smooth and easy ; at your feet Your proudest enemy falls.

yiurd. We thank your valours : A victory without blood is twice achieved, And the disposure of it, to us tendered, The greatest honour. Worthy captains, thanks ! My love extends itself to all.

Gonz. Make way there.

\A Guard draxvn up ; Aurelia passes through them. Loud musick. [Exeunt,

SCENE m.

Sienna. A Room in the Prison. Bertoldo is discovered^ in fetters^ reading.

Bert. 'Tis here determined, (great exampies,

arm'd With arguments, produced to make it good,) That neither tyrants, nor the wrested laws. The people's frantick rage, sad exile, want, Nor that which I encUire, captivity, Can do a wise man any injury. Thus Seneca, when he wrote it, thought. — But

then Felicity courted him ; his wealth exceeding A private man's ; happy in the embraces Of his chaste wife Paulina ; his house full

' Bertoldo is discovered, &c.] So careless arc the editors, that they mark the entrance of the Gaoler here ; then, without any exit, bring him in again with Gonzaga and Adorni.

72 THE MAI]3 OV HONOUR.

Of children, clients, servants, flatterino- friends, Soothing his lip-positions; and created Prince of the senate, by the ij^eneral voice, At his new pu])irs suffrage : then, no doubt. He held, and did believe, this, But no sooner The ])rince's frowns and jealousies had thrown him Out of security's lap, and a centurion Had offer'd him what choice of death he pleased, But told him, tlie he must; when straight the

armour Of his so boasted fortitude fell off,

[T/iruws axvaij the book. Complaining of his frailty. Can it then Be censured Momanish weakness in me, if. Thus clogg'd w itli irons, and the period To close up all calamities denied me, Which was presented Seneca, I wish I ne'er had being ; at least, never knew What happiness was; or argue with heaven's

justice, Tearing my locks, and, in defiance, throwing Dust in the air? or, falling on the ground, thus With my nails and teeth to dig a grave, or vend The bowels of the earth, my stcji-mother, And \v)t a natural parent? or thus practise To die, and, as I were insensible, Believe I had no motion ? [Fails on hlaface.

Enter Goy:zAOA, Adokm, ^/;/^/ (laoler.

don'^. 'J'here he is : ril not encjuire by w horn his raiisome's paid, Tin satisfied that I havi- it ; nor allege One reason lo excuse his criul usage. As you m.i\' intciprct it; h't it suthte It was mv will to have it so. He is yours now, J)isposc of bin] as you please. [EaiI.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 73

Ador. Howe'er I hate him, As one preferr'd before me, being a man, He does deserve my pity. Sir ! — he sleeps : — Or is he dead ? would he were a saint in heaven! 'Tis all the hurt I wish him. But, I was not Born to such happiness — [K?ieels by fiim.]— no, he

Ijrcathes — come near, And, it" t be possible, without his feeling, Take off his irons. — [His irons taken off.'] — So; now leave us private. \_Ej:it Gaoler,

He does begin to stir ; and, as transported With a joyful dream, how he stares ! and feels

his legs, As yet uncertain whether it can be True or fantastical.

Bert. [rM7';zo'.] Ministers of mercy, Mock not calamity. Ha ! 'tis no vision ! Or, if it be, the happiest that ever Appear'd to sinful tlesh ! Who's here? his face Speaks him Adorni ; — but some glorious angel, Concealing its divinity in his shape. Hath done this miracle, it being not an act For wolfish man. Resolve me, if thou look'st for Bent knees in adoi'ation ?

Ador. O forbear, sir ! I am Adorni, and the instrument Of your deliverance; but the benefit You owe another.

Bert. If he has a name. As soon as spoken, 'tis writ on my heart I am his bondman.

Ador. To the shame of men, This great act is a woman's.

Bert. The v.-hole sex For her sake must be deified. How I wander In my imagination, yet cannot Guess who this phoenix should be !

74 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Jldoi\ "Tis Camiola.

Bert. Pray you, speak't again : there's musick in her name. Once more, I pray you, sir. ylclor. Camiola,

The MAID OF HONOUR.

Bert. Curs'd atlicist tluit I was. Only to doubt it could be any otiier ; Since she alone, in the abstract of herself, That small, Init ravishing substance, comprehends Whatever is, or can be wish'd, in the Idea of a woman ! () what service, Or sacrifice of duty, can I pay her, If not to live and die her charity's slave, M'hich is resolved alreadv !

^Idor. She expects not Such a dominion o'er you : yet, ere I Deliver her demands, o-ive me your hand : On this, as she enjoin'd me, with my lips I print her love and service, by me sent you.

Bert. I am o'erwhelm'd with wonder !

Ador. You must noM% "\A'hich is the sum of all that she desires, Ly a solemn contract bind yourself, when she Kecjuircs it, as a debt due for your freedom, To marry her.

Bert. This does eng'ai>;e me further ; A i)aymcnt ! an increase of obligation. To marry her ! — 'twas my nil ultra ever: Tlu- (11(1 of my ambition. O that now Tlic b<)ly man, she present, were prcj)ared To join our hands, but with that speed my heart A\'i>.lics mine eyes miu;ht see her !

uidor. V (Ui must swear ibis.

Bert. Swear it ! Collect all oaths and impre- cations, AVhosc least breach is ilamnation, and those

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 75

Minister'd to me in a form more dreadful ; Set heaven and hell hefore me, I will take them: False to Camiola ! never. — Shall I now Begin my vows to you ?

Ado)\ I am no churchman ; Such a one must file it on record : you are free ; And, that you may appear like to yourself, ^ (For so she wish'd,) here's gold, with which you

may Redeem your trunks and servants, and whatever Of late you lost. I have found out the captain Whose spoil they were ; his name is Roderigo. Bert. I know him. Jdor. I have done my parts.'* Bert. So much, sir. As I am ever yours for't. Now, methinks,

I walk in air ! Divine Camiola

But words cannot express thee : I'll build to thee An altar in my soul, on w^iich I'll offer A still-increasing sacrifice of duty. [Ed'it.

Jdor. What will become of me now is apparent. Whether a poniard or a halter be The nearest way to hell, (for I must thither, After I've kill'd myself,) is somewhat doubtful. This Roman resolution of self-murder Will not hold water at the high tribunal, When it comes to be argued ; my good genius Prompts me to this consideration. He That kills himself to avoid misery, fears it, And, at the best, shews but a bastard valour. This life's a fort committed to my trust. Which I must not yield up till it be forced :

* Ador. I have done my parts.] There is no expression more familiar to our old writers than this : yet Massinger's editors, in their blind rage for reformation, perpetually corrupt it into — I have done my part.

76 THE xMAlD OF HONOUR.

Kor will I. He's not valiant that dares die, But he that boldly bears ealaniity. [E.vif,

SCENE IV^

'J7te same. A State-room iu tlie Palace. A Flourish. EjiterVin.iiio, Koderigo, Jacomo,

GONZAGA, AURELIA, EiLKUINAND, AsTUTl'J,

and Ailendaiits.

Aurcl. A seat liere for the duke. It is our glory To overeomc M'ith courtesies, not rigour; 'J'he lordly lloman, who held it the height or human liappiness to have kings and (jueeiis To wait by his triumphant ehariot-w heels, lu his insulting pride deprived liimself Of drawing near the nature of the gods, ]]est known for such, in being merciful. Yet, give me leave, but still with gentle language. And with the freedom of a friend, to tell you, To seek by force, what courtship could not Miu, A\'asharsh,%ind nevertaught in Love's mild school. Wise poets feign that A'enus" coach is drawn l>y doves ami 'sj)arrows, not by bears and tigers. I spare the application.^

Fcr. Ill my fortune Heaven's justice hath confirm'd it ; yet, great

lady, Since my olfence grew iVom excess oI'Ionc, And nol to be resisted, having paid, too, With loss of liberty, the forfeiture

' I .spare l/ic fijipliatdiin.'] Covi'ter ami Mr. M. .Mason nirr tliis licniislicli to Fi-itliiiaml, and so inilciMl il«)i'> ni) (luarlo: all flu- ollicrs whicfi I liavc examined jnalvO it comhuk' Aiiiclia'h HKHili, to Hliicli it cvidiiill) bclunj^s.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 77

Of my presumption, in your clemency It may find piirdon.

Aurel You shall have just cause To say it hath. The charge of the long siege Defray'd, and the loss my subjects have sustain'd ]\Iade good, since so far I must deal with caution, You have your liberty.

Fer. I could not hope for Gentler conditions.

Aurel. My lord Gonzaga, Since my coming to Sienna, I've heard much of Your prisoner, brave Bertoldo.

Gonz. Such an one. Madam, I had.

Ast. And have still, sir, I hope.

Gonz. Your hopes deceive you. He is ran- somed, madam.

Ast. By Avhom, I pray you, sir?

Gonz. You had best enquire Of your intelligencer : I am no informer.

Ast. I like not this.

Aurel. He is, as 'tis reported, A goodly gentleman, and of noble parts; A brother of your order.

Gonz. He was, madam. Till he, against his oath, wrong'd you, a princess, Which his religion bound him from.

Aurel. Great minds. For trial of their valours, oft maintain Quarrels that are unjust, yet without malice; And such a fair construction I make of him : I would see that brave enemy.

Gonz. My duty Commands me to seek for him.

Aurel. Pray yon do ; And bring him to our presence. [E.vit Gonzaga.

Ast. I must blast

78 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

His entertainment. May it please your excel- lency, He is a man debaucird, and, for his riots. Cast off by the king my master; and that, 1 hope, is A crime sufficient.

Fer. To you, his subjects, That like as your king likes.

Aurel. But not to us ; We must weiii'li m ith our own scale.

Re-enter Q OS i AG A^tvith Bertoldo richly luihited,

and Ado UN I.

This is he, sure. How soon mine eye had found him ! Avhat a j)ort He bears ! how well his bravery becomes him ! A prisoner! nay, a princely suitor, rather ! But I'm too sudden.

Gouz. Madam, 'tM'as his suit, Unsent for to present his service to you, Lre his departure.

Aurel. ^\ ith M'hat majesty He bears himself!

Ast. The devil, I think, supplies him. Kansomed, and thus rich too !

Aurel. You ill deserve

\Berloldu /nwelini^, kisses her hand.

The favour of our hand we arc not well.

Give us more air. [Rises suddenly,

Cionz. \\\\aX sudden (juahn is this?

Aurel. — That lifted yours au;ainst me.

Bert, Tims, once more, I sue for pardon.

Aunl. Suri' liis lips are j)()ison'd, Aud ihioiigh these veins force passage to my

heart, Which is aheady seized on. [Aside.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 7-9

Bert. I wait, madam, To know whatyoLiv commands arc : my dcsiorns Exact me in another place.

AurcL Before You have our Hcense to depart ! If manners, Civility of manners, cannot teach you To attend our leisure, I must tell you, sir. That you are still our prisoner; nor had you Commission to free him. Gonz. How's this, madam ? Aurel. You were my substitute, and wanted power, Without my Avarrant, to dispose of him : I will pay back his ransome ten times over, Rather than quit my interest.

Bert. This is Ao'ainst the law of arms.

Aurel. But not of love. [Aside.

Why, hath your entertainment, sir, been such. In your restraint, that, with the wings of fear, You would fly from it ?

Bert. I know no man, madam. Enamoured of his fetters, or delighting In cold or hunger, or that would in reason Prefer straw in a dungeon, before A down-bed in a palace.

Aurel. How! — Come nearer: Was his usage such ?

Gonz. Yes ; and it had been worse, Had I forseen this.

Aurel. O thou mis-shaped monster ! In thee it is conlirm'd, that such as have No share in nature's bounties, know no pity To such as have them. Look on liim with my eyes, And answer, then, whether this were a man Whose cheeks of lovely fulness should be made A prey to meagre famine ? or these eyes.

80 Tin: MAID OF HONOUU.

Whose every glance store Cupid's emptied (luivej'. To be dinim'd Nvitli tedious watcliin"-? or these

lil>S These ruddy lips, ot" whose fresh colour elierries^ And roses were but co])ies, should <>'ro\r pale For want ot" nectar ? or these legs, that bear A burthen of more worth than is supported By Atlas' wearied shoulders, should he eramp'd M'itli the weight of iron? O, I etndd dwell ever On this description !

Bert. Is this in derision, Or pity of me -

Aurel. In your charity Believ^e me innocent. Now you are my prisoner. You shall have fairer quarter ; you will shame The place v.here you have been, should you \\()\-r

leave it, Ikfore vou are recover'd. I'll conduct von To more convenient lod«»ings, and it shall be Mv care to cherish vou. Rei)ine m ho dare : It is our will. You'll follow me ?

Bert. To the ecu tie. Such a Svbilla guiding me.

[E.veufit Aurelia, Bertoldo, and Attendants,

Gonz. ^\'ho speaks iirst ?

Fer. We stand as we had seen Medusa's head.

Pier. I know not what to think, I am so amazed.

Rod. Amazed! I am thunderstruck.

Jac. ^\'e are enchanted. And this is some illusion.

Ador. llea\en forbid! In dark despair it shews a beam of hope : Contain tin iov, Adorui.

/tst. Sucli a jnincess, And of so long-exjjt ricuecd rcser\ "dnes>^. Jireak I'orth, and on tlic s-iddeu, into tlashcji Of more than doulUcd looseness I

THE MAID OF HONOUR, 81

Gonz. They come again, Smiling, as I live! his arm circling her waist. I shall run mad : — Some fury hath possess'd her. If I speak, I may be blasted. Ha! I'll mumble A prayer or two, and cross myself, and then, Though the devil f — fire, have at him.

Re-enter Beutolt/O, r/;?^/ Au re li a.

Aiirel. Let not, sir. The violence of my passion nourish in you An ill opinion; or, grant my carriage Out of the road and garb of private women, 'Tis still done with decorum. As I am A princess, M-hat I do is above censure, And to be imitated.

Bert. Gracious madam. Vouchsafe a little pause; fori am so rapt Beyond myself, that, till I have collected I\ly scatter'd faculties, I cannot tender My resolutioH.

Aurel. Consider of it, I M'^ill not be lono- from vou.

[Bertoldo walks by, musing,

Gonz. Pray I cannot. This cursed object strangles my devotion : I must speak, or 1 burst. Pray you, fair lady, If you can, in courtesy direct me to The chaste Aurelia.

Aurel. Are you blind ? who are we ?

Gonz. Another kind of thing. Her blood was ffovern'd By her discretion, and not ruled her reason: The reverence and majesty of Juno Siiined in her looks, and, coming to the camp, Appear'd a second Pallas. I can see No such divinities in you: if I,

VOL. IIJ. G

82 THE MAID OF IIOXOUR.

Without offence, may speak my thoughts, you are, As 'twere, a wanton Helen.

Aurel. Good; ere long You shall know me better.

Gonz. ^\']lv, if you are Aurclia, How shall 1 dispose of the soldier ?

Ast. May it please you To hasten my dispatch ?

Aurel. Prefer your suits Unto Ikrtoldo; we will give him hearing, And you'll iind him your best advocate. [E.vit. Ast. This is rare ! Gonz. What are we come to ? Hod. Grown up in a moment A favourite !

Ferd. He does take state already. Bert. No, no; it cannot be: — yet, butCamiola. There is no stop between me and a crown. Then my ingratitude ! a sin in which All sins are comprehended ! Aid me, \'irtuc, Or I am lost.

Gonz. IMay it please your excellence

Second me, sir.

Bert. Then my so horrid oaths, And hell-deep imprecations made against it ! A^t. The king, your brothci', \\ill thank you for the advancement Of his affairs.

Bert. And yet who can hold out Against such batteries as bcr power and greatness liaise up against my weak defences ! Gofiz. Sir,

Jle-entcr Auuilia.

Do you dream waking? 'Slight, she's here again ! Walks she on woollen feet ! "

* Walks she un noolkuj'id ! \ 'JL'lii'ac won s arc ccrlainl) part

THE MAID or HONOUR. 83

Aurel. You dwell too long In- your deliberation, and come With a cripple's pace to that which you should fly to.

Bert. It is confess'd: yet why should I, to win From you, that hazard all to my poor nothing, By false play send you off a loser from me ? I am already too, too much engaged To the king my brother's anger ; and who knows But that his doubts and politick fears, should

you Make me his equal, may draw war upon Your territories? Were that breach made up, I should with joy embrace what now I fear To touch but with due reverence.

Aurel. That hinderance Is easily removed. I owe the king For a royal visit, which I straight will pay him j And having first reconciled you to his favour, A dispensation shall meet with us.

Bert. I am wholly yours.

Aurel. On this book seal it.

Gonz. What, hand and lip too ! then the bar- gain's sure.

You have no employment for me ?

Aurel. Yes, Gonzaga; Provide a royal ship.

Go HZ. A ship ! St. John ; Whither are we bound now ?

of Gonzaga's speech, who is surprised at the siuldeii return of Aurelia ; they would come strangely from Bertoldo, in the midst of his meditations. iVI. Mason.

1 have adopted Mr. M. Mason's amendnient. Tltc old copy gives this hemistich to Bertoldo.

G 3

Si THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Aiirel. You sliall know hereafter. Mv lord, your pardon, for my too much trcncliini^ Upon your j)atiencc.

Ador. Camiohi. [Aside to Bertoldo.

Aurcl. HoNudovou?

Bert. Indisposed ; hut I attend you.

[Examt all but Adurni.

Ador. The heavy curse that waits on perjury. And foul ingratitude, pursue tliee ever ! Yet why from me this? in his hreach of faith My loyalty iinds reward: what poisons him. Proves mithridate to me. I liave performed All she commanded, punctually ; and now, In the clear mirror of m}' truth, she may Behold his falsehood. O that I had wings To hear me to Palermo ! This once known, Must change her love into a just disdain, And work her to compassion of my pain. [Edif,

SCENE V.

Palermo. A Room in Camiola's House,

Enter Sylli, Camiola, and Clauinda, at several doors.

Sijl. Undone! undone! — pocjr I, that ^hilomc Mas The top anil ridge <>f my house, am, on the Midden, Turn'd to the pitifullest animal ()' lln- lineage ol" the Syllis !

Cam. W'hats ihc matter?

S'jl. The king — hreak, girdle, break !

( 'mil. V\ hy, what ol' him ?

Sijl. Hearing how lar you doaled on my person.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 85

Growing envious of my happiness, and knowing His brother, nor his favourite, Fulgentio, Could get a sheep's eye from you, I being present, Is come himsfclf a suitor, with the awl Of his authority to bore my nose, And take you from me — Oh, oli, oh !

Cajii, Do not roar so : The king !

SijL The king. Yet loving Sylli is not So sorry for his own, as your misfortune ; If the king should carry you, or you bear him, What a loser should you be ! He can but make

you A queen, and what a simple thing is that. To the being my lawful spouse! the world can

never Afford you such a husband.

Cam. I believe you. But how are you sure the king is so inclined ? Did not you dream this ?

Sjjl. With these eyes I saM^ him Dismiss his train, and lighting from his coach, Whispering Fulgentio in the ear.

Cam. If so, I guess the business.

Syl. It can be no other, But to give me the bob, that being a matter Of main importance. Yonder they are, I dare not

Enter Roberto, ^/z*^/ Fulgentio.

Be seen, I am so desperate: if you forsake mc, Send me word, that I may provide a willow

garland. To wear when I drown myself. O Sylli, Sylli !

[^E.vit crying. Fill. It will be worth 3^our pains, sir, to observe

85 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

The constancy and bravery of her spirit. Though great men tremble at your frowns, I dare. Hazard my head, your majesty, set off V/itli terrour, cannot fright her.

Rob. May slie answer My expectation !

Fill. There she is.

Cam. My knees thus Bent to the eartl:, while my vows are sent upM-ard For the safety of my sovereign, pay the duty Due for so great an honour, in this fa\ our Done to your hund)lest handmaid.

Rob. You mistake me ; I come not, lady, that you may report The king, to do you honour, niade your house , (He being there) his court ; Init to correct Your stubborn disobedience. A pardon For that, could you obtain it, were m ell purchased "With this humility.

Cam. A pardon, sir ! Till I am conscious of an ofience, I ^\ ill not wrong my innocence to l)eg one. AVhat is my crime, sir?

Rob. Look on him I favour, Bv \ou scoriTd and ne<>lected.'

Cam. Is that all, sir ?

Rob. No, minion; though that Mere too much. How can you Answer the setting on vour desperate bravo 'J'o murder him "

(Uun. With your ka\t', I nni.st not kneel, sii", While I reply to this: but thus rise u])

^ F{(tl). I/iok un him I favour, iJy )()ii M(nn''(l and ric^fi cfid. \ ('oxttcr ami .Mr. .M. .Mason, in dcliuiuc orinrtri! ami biiist>:

Kob. hiuk on him 1 favour^ V <jii Acorn'd ^c.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 87

In my defence, and tell you, as a man,

(Since, when you are unjust, the deity

Which you may challenge as a king parts from

'Twas never read in holy writ, or moral, That suhjects on their loyalty were obliged To love their sovereign's vices ; your grace, sir, To such an undeserver is no virtue.

Fill. What think you now, sir?

Cam. Say, you should love wine. You being the king, and, 'cause I am your subject^ Must I be ever drunk ? Tyrants, not kings, 13y violence, from humble vassi^ls force The liberty of their souls. I could not love him ; And to compel affection, as I take it, Is not found in your prerogative.

Rob. Excellent virgin ! How I admire her confidence !

Cam. He complains Of wrong done him : but, be no more a king. Unless you do me right. Burn your decrees, And of your laws and statutes make a fire To thaw the frozen numbness of delinquents, If he escape unpunisli'd. Do your edicts Call it death in any man that breaks into Another's house, to rob him, though of trifles ; And shall Fulgentio, your Fulgentio live, Who hath committed more than sacrilege, In the pollution of my clear fame, By his malicious slanders ?

, Rob. Have you done this ? Answer truly, on your life.

Fid. In the heat of blood, Some such thing I reported.

Rob. Out of my sight ! For I vow, if by true penitence thou win not

S8 THE MAID OF IIOXOUR.

Tliis injured virgin* to sue out thy pardon, Thy gnivc is digg'd ah-eady.

Fid. By my own folly I liave made a fair liand oft. [Edit,

Rub. You shall know, lady, AVhilc I wear a crown, justice shall use lier SM'ord To cut offenders olf, though nearest to us.

Ca)n. Ay, now you shew whose deputy you arc : If now 1 halhe your feet with tears, it cannot Be censured superstition.

Rob. You must rise ; Rise ill our favour and protection ever.

[Kisses her.

Cam. Happy are suhjects,when tlie prince is still Guided by justice, not his passionate will

[Ed tun t.

ACT V. SCENE I.

The same. A Room in Camiola's House.

Enter Camioi.a andSvLLi.

Cam. You see how tender I am of the (piit l And peace of your atlcclion, and what great ones I put off in your fnnur.

<^ T/iix irjurcd virgin to siir ovt ihj panhni^] I have silrtaiiy obscrvc-d thai (lii-n- is but our ••dilion ol (his play ; (lit- cnpiis, houcviT, \ar\ coiisidfrably In this line, lor example, sonie of »hi ni rtad v//^,'///, soiiu' /,/. y, and soiru- omit (lu- « oid altoj^cthcr. In thi-se rases iiolhinj,' remains for an editor, bn( (o make nse "f his jud-meiit, and beiett (hat >vhich appears (he lea.st ob. .iertiouable.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 89

Syl. You do wisely, Exceeding wisely ; and, when I have said, I thank you tbr't, be happy.

Cam. And good reason. In having such a blessing.

Syl. When you have it ; But the bait is not 3^et ready. Stay the time, A\'hile I triumph by myself. King, by your leave, I have wiped your royal nose w^ithout a napkin ; You may cry. Willow, willow ! for your brother, I'll only say, Go by!' for my line favourite, He may graze where he please; his lips may water Like a puppy's o'er a furmenty pot, while Sylli, Out of his two-leaved cherry-stone dish, drinks

nectar ! I cannot hold out any longer; heaven forgive me ! 'Tis not the first oath I have broke ; I must take A little for a preparative.

[Offers to kiss and embrace her.

Cam. By no means. If you forswear yourself, we shall not prosper : I'll rather lose my longing.

SijL Pretty soul ! How careful it is of me 1 let me buss yet

7 for your brother,

I'll onli/ say, Go by!] This is an allusion to the Spanish Tragedy; tho constan<' butt of all the Avriters of those times, who seem to be a little uneasy, notwithstanding their scofils, at its popularity. Old Jeronimo, however, kept his ground till the general convulsion, when he sunk, with a thousand better things, to rise no more.

What hold he once had of the publick mind may be collected from an anecdote in that strange medley by Prynne, which, by the way, contains more ribaldry in a few pages, than is to be found in half the plays he reprobates. He there tells us of a lady who, on her death-bed, instead of attending to the priest, *' cried out nothing but Jeronimo! Jeronimo!" — and died in this reprobate state, " thinking of nothing but plays."

Histriomastix.

DO THE MAID OF IlONOUll.

Thy little dainty foot for't : that, I'm sure, is Out of my oath.

Cam. ^^ hy, if thou canst dispense with't So far, ril not be scrupulous ; such a iavour ]\Iv amorous shoemaker steals.

,Sj//. () most rare leather ! [Kisses her shoe o/teu. I do begin at the lowest, but in time I may iji'ow hiii;her.

Cam. Fie ! you dwell too long there; Rise, prithee rise.

Sj/l. O, I am up already.

Enter Clarixda ha.stilij.

Cam. How I abuse my hours ! — What news with thee, now ?

Clar. Off M-ith that gown, 'tis mine ; mine by your promise : SignioT Adorni is return'd ! now upon entrance ! Off with it, off with it, madam !

Cam, Be not so hasty : When I go to bed, 'tis thine.

Syl. You haye my grant too ; But, do you hear, lady, though I giye way to

this, You must hereafter ask my leayc, before \ nw part with things of moment.

Cam. \'cry good ; When Fm yours Fll be goyern'd.

Sijl. Sweet ol)edience !

Kf/Ur A no u. VI,

(.'am. You are well return'd. yldor. 1 wish tliat the success Of my service had <lcserved it. Caai. Lives Bertoldo ?

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 91

j)dor. Yes, and returned with safety.

Ca7n. 'Tis not then In the power of fate to add to, or take from INIy perfect happiness ; and yet — he should Have made me his first visit.

Aclor. So I think too ; But he

Si/l. Durst not appear, I being present; That's his excuse, I warrant you.

Ca?H. Speak, where is he ? With whom? who hath deserved more from him?

or Can be of equal merit ? I in this Do not except the king.

Ador. He's at the palace, With the dutchess of Sienna. One coach brought

them hither, W^ithout a third : he's very gracious >vith her; You may conceive the rest.

Ca})i. My jealous fears Make me to apprehend.

Ador. Pray you, dismiss Siguier wisdom, and I'll make relation to you Of the particulars;

Cam. Servant, I would have you To haste unto the court.

Si/L I will outrun A footman, for your pleasure.

Ca?)i. There observe The dutchess' train, and entertainment.

«Sj//. Fear not ; I will discover all that is of weight, To the liveries of her pages and her footmen. This is fit employment for me. \_E^it.

Cam. Gracious with The dutchess ! sure, you said so ?

Ador. I will use

92 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

All possible brevity to inform you, madam, Ot" what was trusted to luc, and discharged With faith and loyal dut}-.

Cam. I believe it ; You ransomed him, and supplied his ■\\ants —

imaiJ-ine That is already spoken ; and what vows Of service he made to me, is apparent ; His joy of me, and wonder too, perspicuous; Does not your story end so?

Ador. Would the end Had answered the be^'innino; ! — 1\\ a word. Ingratitude and perjury at the height Cannot express him.

Cam. Take heed.

Ador. Truth is arm'd, And can defend itself It must out, madam : I saw (the presence full) the amorous dutchess Kiss and end) race him ; on his part acce])ted With etjual ardour, and their Milling hands No sooner join'd, but a remove Avas publislfd, And put in execution.

Cam. The proots are Too pregnant. O Bcrtoldo !

Ador. He's not worth Your sorrow, madam.

Cam. Tell me, when you saw this, Did not you grieve, as 1 do now to hear it?

Ador. His precipice from goodness raising mine, And serving as a foil to set my faith olf, I had little reason.

Cam. In this you confess 'llu: di'\ili^h nialice of your disposition. As you w iif :i jn.m, you ^lood bound to lament it; And not, ill tlatterv of your false hoiies, io glory jii It. When good men pui*suc

THE MAID OF HONOUR. gs

The path mark'd out by virtue, the blest saints With joy look on it, and seraphick angels Clap their celestial wings in heavenly plaudits, To see a scene of grace so well presented, The fiends, and men made up of envy, mourning. Whereas now, on the contrary, as far As their divinity can partake of passion, With me they weep, beholding a fair temple, Built in Bertoldo's loyalty, turn'd to ashes • By the flames of his inconstancy, the damnd Rejoicing in the object. — 'Tis not well In you, Adorni.

Ador. What a temper dwells In this rare virgin ! Can you pity him, That hath shewn none to you ?

Cam. I must not be Cruel by his example. You, perhaps^ Expect now I should seek recovery Of what I have lost, by tears, and with bent knees. Beg his compassion. No ; my towering virtue. From the assurance of my merit, scorns To stoop so low. I'll take a nobler course, And, confident in the justice of my cause. The king his brother, and new mistress, judges. Ravish him from her arms. You have the contract. In which he swore to marry me t

Ador. 'Tis here, madam.

Cam. He shall be, then, against his will, my husband ; And when I have him, I'll so use him ! — doubt not. But that, your honesty being unquestioned. This writing, with your testimony, clears all.

Ador. And buries me in the dark mists of errour.

Cam. I'll presently to court; pray you, give order For my caroch.'

* For my caroch.] It seems as if Massinger's editors were

94 THE MAID OF HONOUR,

Adoi\ A cart for me were fitter, To liurry me to the gallows. [E.vit.

Cam. O false men ! Inconstant ! perjured ! My good angel he!p mc In these my extremities !

Re-enter Svlli.

Si/l. If you e'er will see a brave sight, Lose it not now. Bertoldo ami the dutehess Are presently to be married : there's such pomp, And preparation !

Cam. If I marry, 'tis This day, or never.

Sijl. Why, with all my heart ; Though I break this, Til keep the next oath I

make. And then it is quit.

Cam. Follow me to my cabinet ; You know mv confessor, father Paulo ?

Sijl. Yes : shall he Do the feat for us ?

Cam. I will give in writing- Directions to him, and attire myself Like a virgin bride; and something 1 will do. That shall deserve men's j)raise, antl wonder too.

Sijl. And I, to make all know I am not shallow, Will have my points of cochineal and yellow.

[^Ed'eunf.

Jiinoraiit (»f the cxistonro or meanine of such u wnnl as caruch ; bincf thry cxcliaii;;*,' it lor coac/i, though it invariubl} df>tro)8 ike metre.

THE MAID OF IIONOUli. 95

SCENE II.

The same. A State-room in the Palace.

Loud MusicTi. Enter Roberto, Bertoldo, Au* RELiA, Ferdinand, Astutio, Gonzaga, Ro- DERiGO, Jacomo, Pierio, a B/s/iop, and Attend- ants.

Rob. Had our division been greater, madam, Your clemency, the wrong being done to you, In pardon of it, like the rod of concord. Must make a perfect union. Once more, With a brotherly aifection, we receive you Into our favour : let it be your study Hereafter to deserve this blessings far Beyond your merit.

Bert. As the princess' grace To me is without limit, mv endeavours. With all obsequiousness to serve her pleasures, Shall know no bounds : nor m ill I, being made Her husband, e'er' forget the duty that I owe her as a servant.

Aiirel. I expect not But fair equality, since I well know, If that superiority be due,

'Tis not to me. When you are made my consort, All the prerogatives of my high birth cancell'd, I'll practise the obedience of a wife. And freely pay it. Queens themselves, if they Make choice of their inferiours, only aiming To feed their sensual appetites, and to reign Over their husbands, in some kind commit Authorized M'horedom ; nor will I be guilty, In my intent, of such a crime.

06 THE MAIU OF HONOUR.

Gonz. This done, As it is proiiiisctl, madam, may \vc\\ stand for A ])rccedcnt to great women : but, w lien onee I'he irripinir liiint>'er of desire is eloy'd, And the poor fool advaneed, In'ought on his knees, Most of your eagle breed, I'll not say all, Ever exeepting you, ehallenge again 'What, in hot blood, they parted from.

Aiirel. You are ever An enemy of our sex; but you, I hope, sir, Have better thoughts, . Bert. 1 dare not entertain An ill one of your goodness.

Rob. To my power I will enable him, to prevent all danger Envy can raise against your choice. One word

more Touching the articles.

Enter FuLGENTio, Camiola, Sylli, and

Ado UN I.

Fill. In you alone Lie all my lioj)es ; you can or kill or save me ; Ijut pity in you will become you better (Though I confess injustice "tis denied me) Than too much rigour.

(Jam. I w ill make your peace As far as it lies in me; but must first Labour to riiiht mvself

Auri'l. Or add or altei' What you think fit; in him I ha\e my all; Heaven make me thankful lor him !

Jluh. On to the tem|)lc'.

Cam. Stay, i«)\ al sit ; and as you are a king, l-'rect one ' here, in doing justice {<> An injuri'd maid.

9 Enit one //tTf,] i. f. a tiMiii)Io. M. Mason.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 97

Aurel. How's this ?

Bert. O, I am blasted !

Rob. I have given some proof, sweet lady, of my promptness To do you right, you need not, therefore, doubt

me ; And rest assured, that, this great work dispatch'd, You shall have audience, and satisfaction To all you can demand.

Cam. To do me justice t Exacts your present care, and can admit Of no delay. If, ere my cause be heard, In favour of your brother you go on, sir, Your sceptre cannot right me. He's the man, The guilty man, whom I accuse ; and you Stantl bound in duty, as you are supreme, To be impartial. Since you are a judge, As a delinquent look on him, and not As on a brother : Justice painted blind, Infers her ministers are obliged to hear The cause, and truth; the judge, determine of it; And not sway'd or by favour or affection, By a false gloss, or wrested comment, alter The true intent aild letter of the law.

Rob. Nor will I, madam.

Aurel. You seem troubled, sir.

Gonz. His colour changes too.

Cam. The alteration Grows from his Q-uilt. The g-oodness of mv cause Begets such confidence in me, that I bring No hired tongue to plead for me, that with gay Rhetorical flourishes may palliate That which, stripp'd naked, will appear deform'd. I stand here mine own advocate ; and my truth, Deliver'd in the plainest language, will Make good itself; nor will I, if the king- Give suffrage to it, but admit of you,

VOL III. H

98 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

My greatest enemy, and this stranger prince, To sit assistants with him.

Aurel. I ne'er wrong'd you.

Cam. In your knowledge of the injury, I be- lieve it ; Xor will you, in your justice, when you are Acquainted with my interest in this man, Which I lay claim to.

Kob. Let us take our seats. What is your title to him r

Cam. 13y this contract, Seal'd solemnly before a reverend man,

[Presents a paper to the king. I challen<'-e him for mv husband.

Sijl. Ha ! Avas I Sent for the friar for this ? O Sylli ! Sylli ! Some cordial, or I faint.*

Rob. This writing is Authentical.

Aurcl. But done in lieat of blood, Charm'd by her flatteries, as, no doubt, he was. To be dispensed \rith.

Fer. Add this, if you please, The distance and disparity between Their births and fortunes.

Cam. M'hat can Innocence hope for, When such as sit her jvulges are corrupted ! Disparity of birth or fortune, urge you? Or Syren charms? or, at his best, in me AVants to deserve him ? Call some i^cw days back, And, as he was, consider him, and you Must grant him my inferiour. Imagine You saw him now in fetters, with his honour, Mis liberty lost; with her black Mings Despair Circling his miseries, aiul this Gonzaga

• Some cordial, or IfautC] WUully omiUcd iu Mr. M. Mason's cdiliuu. ,

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 99

Trampling on his afflictions ; the great sum Proposed for his redemption ; the king Forbidding payment of it ; his near kinsmen, With his protesting followers and friends, Falling off from him ; by the whole world forsaken; Dead to all hope, and buried in the grave Of his calamities; and then weigh duly What she deserved, whose merits now are doubted. That, as his better angel, in her bounties Appear'd unto him, his great ransome paid, His wants, and with a prodigal hand, supplied ; W^hether, then, being my manumised slave, He owed not himself to me ?

Aurel. Is this true ?

Rob. In his silence 'tis acknowledged.

Goiiz. If you want A w^itness to this purpose, I'll depose it.

Cam. If I have dwelt too long on my deservings To this unthankful man, pray you pardon me ; The cause required it. And though now I add A little, in my painting to the life His barbarous ingratitude, to deter Others from imitation, let it meet with A fair interpretation. This serpent. Frozen to numbness, was no sooner warm'd In the bosom of my pity and compassion, But, in return, he ruin'd his preserver. The prints the irons had made in his flesh Still ulcerous ; but all that I had done. My benefits, in sand or water M^itten, As they had never been, no more remember'd ! And on what ground, but his ambitious hopes To g^ain this dutchess' favour?

Aurel. Yes; the object, Look on it better, lady, may excuse The change of his affection.

Ca?}i, The object !

H2

100 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Ill what? forgive me, modesty, if I say You look upon your form in tin- false glass Of flattery and self-love, and that deceives you. That you were a dutchess, as I take it, was not Charactered on your face ; and, that not seen, For other feature, make all these, that are Experienced in women, judges of them. And, if they are not parasites, they must grant, For beauty without ait, though you storm at it, I may take the right-hand lile.

Gonz. AV'ell said, i'faith ! I see fair Momeu on no terms Mill yield Priority in beant}-.

(aivl Down, proud heart ! Why do I rise uj) in defence of that. Which, in my cherishing of it, hath undone me ! No, madam, I recant, — you are all beauty, Goodness, and virtue ; and poor I not worthy As a f(ul to set you off: enjoy your concjuest ; But do not tN'rannize. Yet, as I am In nu' low ness from vour height vou mav look

on me, And, in vour suflVa^e to me, make him know That, thougli to all men else I did appear The shame and scorn of women, he stands honnd To hold nie as the masterpiece,

Roh. V>\ mv life, You have shewn yourself of such an abject

temper. So poor and loNr-condition'd, as I grieve inr Your nearness to me.

Fcr. 1 am chang( d in my ()pini()n of yon, lad\' ; and protest The virtues ol your mind an ample t'oiluiu^ I'oi an absolute monarch.

Cionz. Since you are resoh cd To damn yourself, in } our I'orsaking of

iHE MAID OF HONOUR. 101

Your noble order for a woman, do it

For this. You may seareh througli tlie world,

and meet not With such another phoenix.

Aurel. On the sudden I feel all fires of love quench'd in the water Of my compassion. — Make your peace; you have M}' free consent; for here I do disclaim All interest in you : and, to further your Desires, fair maid, composed of worth and honour, The dispensation procured by me, Freeing Bertoldo from his vow, makes way To your emln'aces.

Bert. Oh, how have I stray'd. And wilfully, out of the noble track Mark'd me by virtue ! till now, I was never Truly a prisoner. To excuse my late Captivity, I might allege the malice Of Fortune ; you, that conquer'd me, confessing Courage in my defence was no way wanting. But now I have surrender'd up my strengths Into the power of Vice, and on my forehead Branded, with mine own hand, in capital letters, Disloyal, and Ingrateful. Though barr'd from Human societv, and hiss'd into Some desart ne'er yet haunted with the curses Of men and women, sitting as a judge Upon my guilty self, I must confess It justly falls upon me ; and one tear, Shed in compassion of my sufferings, more Than I can hope for.

Cam. This compunction For the MTong that you have done me, though

you should Fix here, and your true sorrow move no further, Will, in respect I loved once, make these eyes Two springs of sorrow for you.

10i2 THE MAID OF HONOUR.

Bert. In your pity My cruelty slicws more monstrous : yet I am

not, Thoui>li most ingrateful, grown to such a height Of impudence, as, in my wishes only, To ask your pardon. If, as now I tail Prostrate before your feet, you Mill vouchsafe To act your o\v;n revenge, treading upon me As a viper eating through the bowels of Your benefits, to M'hom, with libert}', I owe my being, 'twill take IVom the burthen Tbat now is insu])portable.

Cmn. Pray you, rise ; As I wish peace and (juiet to my soul, I do forgive you heartily : yet, excuse me, Though I deny myself a blessing that, By the favour of the dutchess, seconded With your submission, is offer'd to me; Let not the reason I allege for't grieve you. You have been false once. — I have done : and if, Mhen I am married, as this day I will be, As a perfect sign of your atonement Avith me, You wish me joy, 1 will receive it for Pull satisfaction of all obliirations In which you stand bound to nic.

Bcrl. I will do it, And, what's more, in despite of sorrow, live To see myself undone, beyond all hope To i)e m.uh' up again.

Sijl. My bK)od begins T(< come to my heart again.

Can}. Prav von, sii>nior Sylli, Call ill ilie holy friar: he's prepared |"or fnushiuii' the work.

SijI. I knew J was The man : iieaven make me thankful 1

Rob. Who is this .-

THE MAID or HONOUR. 103

Ast. His father was the banker' of Palermo, And this the heir of liis great wealth : his wisdom Was not hereditary.

Syl. Though you know me not, Your majesty owes me a round sum ; I have A seal or two to witness; yet, if 3'ou please To wear my colours, and dance at my Avedding, I'll never sue you.

Rob. And I'll grant your suit.

Syl. Gracious madonna, noble general, Brave captains,and my quondam rivals, wear them. Since I am confident you dare not harbour A thought, but that way current. [E.vit,

Aurel. For my part, I cannot guess the issue.

Re-enter Sylli with Father Paulo.

Syl. Do your duty ; And with all speed you can, you may dispatch us.

Paul. Thus, as a principal ornament to the churchj I seize her.

All. How \ . *

Rob. So young, and so religious !

Paul. She has forsook the world.

Syl. And Sylli too 1 I shall run mad.

Rob. Hence with the fool ! — \SylU thrust off.']— Proceed, sir.

Paul. Look on this maid of iioxour, now Truly honour'd in her vow

* Ast. His father was the banker of Palermo,] Never Mas there such a copy of an author made as that of Massinger by Mr. M. Mason. Just above, he dropt a monosyllable to spoil the metre ; here he has inserted one for the same reason : at least I can find no other. He rcadsj the great banker uf Palermo.

104 THE MAID OF IIONOUR.

She pays to licaven : vain delight

By (lay, or pleasure ol" the niii,ht

Slie no more thinks of; This lair hair

(Favours lor great kings to wear)

]\Just now l3e sliorn ; her rieh array

Changed into a homely gray.

The dainties Mith w hieh she was fed,

And her proud llesh pampered,

Must not he tasted ; from the spring,

For wine, eold water we will hring,

And with fasting mortify

The feasts of sensuality.

Her jewels, beads; and she must look

Not in a glass, hut holy hook ;

To teaeh her the ne'er-erring way

To immortality. O may

She, as she purposes to be,

A ehild new-born to piety,

Pers^ver' in it, and good men,

With saints and angels, say, Amen !

Cam. This is the marriage! tliislhe j)oit to wiiicli INIv vows must sleer me ! Fill niv spreadini>- sails With the pure wind of your devotions fur me, That I may toueh tlie secure haven, where F'ternal hajjpiness keeps her residence. Temptations to frailty never entering ! I am dead to the world, and thus dispose Of what I leave behind me; and, (lixidiuLi; IVIy state into three j)arts, 1 thus hecjueath it: "^llie first to the iair nunnery, to which I detlicate the last and hetter part Of my frail life; a second portion To pious uses; and the third to thee, A<lor!ii, for thy true and faithtul service.

' PtTSi'vor in il, \ 'I'his is ihi- sitoiuI time tin- rditois lia\i' ni(i(liTMi:)i'(l jiii.'itiir into }ic) ill ere, to the lll•^t^lu tioii (»1 tlic virsf. Sec \'i)\. 1. J). 7.

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 105

And, ere. I take my last farewell, witli hope To find a grant, my suit to you is, that You would, for my sake, pardon this young man, And to his merits love him, and no further.

Rob. I thus confirm it.

{Gives his hand to Fulgaitin.

Cam. And, as e'er you hope, [7b Bertoldo.

Like me, to he made happy, I conjure you To reassume your order ; and in fighting Bravely against the enemies of our faith, Redeem your mortgaged honour.

Gonz. I restore this : [Gives him the white cross. Once more, hrothers in arms. ■ Be?'t. I'll live and die so.

Cam. To you my pious wishes ! And, to end All differences, great sir, I beseech you To be an arbitrator, and compound The quarrel long continuing between The duke and dutchess.

Roh. I will take it into My special care.

Cam. I am then at rest. Now, father, Conduct me where you please.

[Exeunt Paulo and Camiola.

Roh. She well deserves Her name, the Maid ofHoxour! May she stand, To all posterity, a fair example. For noble maids to imitate ! Since to live In wealth and pleasure 's common, but to part

with Such poison'd baits is rare ; there being nothing Upon this stage of life to be commended, Though well begun, till it be fully ended.

[Flourish. E.veunt.*

•* This is of the higher order of Massinger's plays: nor will it bo very easy to find in any writer a subject more animated, or characters more variously and pojntedly drawn. There is no

106 THE MAFD OF HONOUR.

delay in introducine; the business of the drama; and nothing is allowed to interfere with its progress. Indeed this is by far too rapid ; and event is precipitated upon event w ithout regard to time or place. But Massinger acts witli a liberty which it Mould be absurd to criticise. Thebes and Athens, Palermo and Sienna, are alike to him; and he must be allowed to transport his agents and their concerns from one to another, as often as the exigencies of his ambulatory plan may require.

It is observable, that in this play Massinger has attempted the more ditVuult part of dramatick writing. Jle is not content with describing dilferent qualities in his characters ; but lays before the reader several differences of the same qualities. The courage of Gonzaga, though by no means inferiour to it, is not that of Bertoldo. In the former, it is a fixed and habitual prin- ciple, the honourable business of his life. In the latter, it is an irresistible impulse, the instantaneous result of a fiery temper. Both characters are again distinguished from Rodtrigo and Jacomo. These too have courage ; but we cannot separate it from a mere vulgar motive, the love of plunder ; and in this respect Gonzaga's captains resemble those ol Charles, in t/ie Duke of Milan. There is still another remove; and all these branches of real courage difler from the poor and forced approaches to valour in Gasparo and Antonio. These distinctions were strongly fixed in Massinger's mind : lest they should pass •without due observation, he has made Gonzaga point out some of them. Act II. so. iii. : and Bertoldo dwells upon others, Act ill. sc. i. And in this respect, again he has copied his own caution, already noticed in the Observations on f/ie Rtncgadu. A broader distinction is used with his two courtiers; and the cold interest of Astutio is fully contrasted with the dazzlirii^ and imprudent assumption of Fulgcntio. But Camiola herself is the great object that reigns throughout the piece. Kvery w here she animates us with her spirit, and instructs us with her sense. Vet this superiority takes nothing from her softer feelinjis. Her tears How w ith a nunglid fondness and regret : and she is swayed by a passion which is onlv (juelled by her greater nso- lution. The iiilhience of her character is also lu'lgliti-Ufd throuijii the dilferent manner of her lovers; through the mail inipatieiue of the uncontrolled Bertoldo, the glittering pretensions of I'"ul. gentio, and the humble and sincere attachment of Adorni, who nourisiu's secret desires of an happiness too exalted tor him, faithfully |)eriornis commands j)reiudicial to his own views, through the force of an allection wliich ensures his obe<lience, and, auiidst so niucli service, scarcely presumes to hint the passion which consumes him. I know not if even signior Svlli is whuily useless here; he serves at least to shew her good-

THE MAID OF HONOUR. 107

humoured toleration of a being hardly important enough for her contempt.

In the midst of this just praise of Camiola, there are a few things to be regretted. Reason and religion had forbidden her union with Bcrtoldo ; and she had declared herself unalterable in her purpose. His captivity reverses her judgment, and she determines not only to liberate, but to marry him. Unfortu- nately too, she demands a sealed contract as the condition of his freedom ; though Bertoldo's ardour was already known to her, and the generosity of her nature ought to have abstained from so degrading a bargain. But Massinger wanted to hinder the marriage of Aurelia ; and, with an infelicity which attends many of his contrivances, he provided a prior contract at the expense of the delicacy, as well as the principles, of his heroine. It is well, that the nobleness of the conclusion throws the veil over these blemishes. Her determination is at once natural and unexpected. It answers to the original independence of her character, and she retires with our highest admiration and esteem.

It may be observed here, that Massinger was not unknown to Milton. The date of some of Milton's early poems, indeed, is not exactly ascertained : but if the reader will compare the speech of Paulo, with the Penserosu, he cannot fail to remark a similarity in the cadences, as well as in the measure and the solemnity of the thoughts. On many other occasions he cer- tainly remembers Massinger, and frequently in his representa- tions of female purity, and the commanding dignity of virtue.

A noble lesson arises from the conduct of the principal cha- racter. A fixed sense of truth and rectitude gives genuine superiority ; it corrects the proud, and abashes the vain, and marks the proper limits between humility and presumption. It also governs itself with the same ascendency which it esta- blishes over others. When the lawful objects of life cannot be possessed with clearness of honour, it provides a nobler pleasure in rising above their attraction, and creates a new happiness by controlling even innocent desires. Dr. Ireland.

THE

P I C T U R E.

The PiCTiRE.] This Tragi-comcdy, or, as Massingcr calls it, this " true Hungarian History," was licensed by Sir U. Herbert, June 8th, 1629. The plot, as the Coinpanion to t/ie P/aij/iuitst ob- serves, is from the 28th novel of the second volume of Painter's Palace uf Pleasure^ 1 567. The magical circumstance, however, from which the play takes its name, is found in a variety of authors: it has all the appearance of an Arabian fiction, and was introduced into our romances at a very early period. The following stanza is from a poem of the fourteenth century, called Hum C/iilde and Maiden liimnild, first given to the press by Mr. Ritson :

" To Rimneld he com withouten Icsing, " And sche hituught him a ring

" The vertu wele sche knewe : " ' Loke thou forsake it for no things " It schal ben our tokening,

" The ston it is wel trewe. " When the ston wexeth wan, '" Than chaungeth the thought of thi leman,

" Take then a new e ; *' When the ston wexeth rede " Than have y lorn mi maidenhcd,

" 0}uines the urUrcwe.' "

The story is also to be found among the KovelUs Galantes ; — but they had the same origin, and it is altogether unnecessary to enter into their respective variations. The French have mo- dernized it into a pretty tale, under the name oi CummcntjiUr ■paijait Amour.

This Play was mwcli approved at its first appearance, when it was acted, as the phrase is, by the whole streuiith of the house. IVIassinger himself speaks of it with compiai eiic y *. and, indeed, its claims to admiration are of no common kind. It was printed in 1G30; but did not reach a second edition. It is said, in the title-page, to have been "• often j)restnted at the Cilobe and Jila( k Friar's pia) houses, by the King's Majesty's servants."

An unsuccessful attempt Mas made to revive this Play, by Mr. K<-ml)le : Ma^nis excidit ai/sis .' We tolerate no magiek now but Sliakspearc's ; and without it t/ic Picture can have no interest.

TO

My honoured and selected Friends

OF THE

NOBLE SOCIETY OF THE INNER TEMPLE.

IT may be objected, my not inscribing their names, or titles, to whom I dedicate this poem, proceedeth either from my diffidence of their affection to me, or their unwillingness to be published the patrons of a trifle. To such as shall make so strict an inquisition of me, I truly answer, The play, in the presentment, found such a general approbation, that it gave me assurance of their favour to whose protection it is', now sacred ; and they have professed they so sincerely allow of it, and the maker, that they would have freely granted that in the publication, ivhich, for some reasons, I denied myself. One, and that is a main 07ie ; I had rather enjoy (as 1 have done) the real proofs of their friendship, than, mountebank- like, boast their numbers in a catalogue. Accept it, noble Gentlemen, as a confirmation of his service, who hath nothitig else to assure you, and zvitness to the world, how much he stands engaged for your so frequent bounties, and in your charitable opinion of me believe, that you now may, and shall ever command.

Your servant,

PHILIP MASSINGER,

DRAMATIS PERSOX.E. ACTORS' NAMES.

Ladisliius, kifig o/* Hungary, R. Bcnfield.

Fcn\inn.u(\, gc/ier(d oj t/ic ariui/, R. Sliarpe.

Eiibuliis, an old co(uisello7\ J. Lowin.

!Matliias, a k III <f lit oj llohcmid., J. Taylor.

Ubaldo, 1 ./, . T. Pollaril.

Kicardo, / * i\. hwanstonc,

Julio Baptista, <-/ <;'T6'^/ .vr/io/rt';', W. J^cn.

J-^ilario, servant to Sophia. J. Shauckc. Tzco Boys; representing Apollo and

Pallas. Tzi'o Couriers. A Guide.

Servants to the queen. Servants to Mathias.

Ilonoria, the queen, J. Thomson.

Sophia, uife to Mathias, J. Iluunicnian.

Acanthe, "i in A. (rofllV. c 1 • > maids of honour, Sylvia, / -^

Corisca, Sophia's woman. V^'. Triage.

Maskers^ Attendants, Ojjieers, Captaiiis, cS"<'. SCENE, partly ///Hungary, and partly in Bohemia.

THE

PICTURE.

ACT I. SCENE I.

The Front ie}'s of Bohemia..

Enter Mathias, Sophia, Corisca, HilariO) with other Servants.

Math. Since we must part, Sophia, to pass further Is not alone impertinent, but dangerous. We are not distant from the Turkish camp Above five leagues, and who knows but some party Of his Timariots, that scour the country, May fall upon us? — be now, as thy nanie, Truly interpreted, hath ever spoke thee, Wise, and discreet; and to thy understanding Marry thy constant patience.

Soph. You put me, sir, To the utmost trial of it.

Math. Nay, no melting ; Since the necessity that now separates us, We have long since disputed, and the reasons Forcing me to it, too oft wash'd in tears. I grant that you, in birth, were far above me, And great men, my superiours, rivals for you ; But nmtual consent of heart, as hands, Join'd by true love, hath made us one, and equal : Nor is it in me mere desire of fame, Or to be cried up by the publick voice,

VOL. III. I

lU THE PICTURE.

For a brave soldier, tliat puts on my armour: Such airy tumours take not me. You know How narrow our demeans are,* and, what's more, Havino;as vet no charo-e ot' children on us, We hardly can subsist.

Soph. In you alone, sir, T have all abundance.

jMcUIi. For my mind's content, In your o\\ u language I couhl answer you. You have been an obedient wife, a right one; And to my power, though short of your desert, I have been ever an in(luli»ent husband. We have long enjoyd the sweets of love, and

though Not to satiety, or loathing, yet "SVc must not live such dotards on our pleasures, As still to hug them to the certain loss Of profit and preferment. Comjjctent means Maintains a quiet bed; M'ant breeds dissension, Even in good women.

Soph. Have you found in me, sir. Any distaste, or si^•n of discontent. For M'ant of what's suiierfluous ?

Math. No, Sophia; Nor shalt thou ever have cause to repent Thy constant course in goodness, if iieavcn bless IVIy hon<'.st uiulcrt;ikini;s. "Tis for thee Tliat I turn soldic r, and ])iit forth, dearest, l^j)on this sea of action, as a factor, 'J"o trade foi- litli materials to adorn 'i'hy nohle parts, and shew them in ful! lustre. I hln^h that otlu-r ladies, less in hi-autv And outward foiin, hut in the harmony ()1 the soul\ ia\ishing innsick, the same age

ll»v vnrrn-xour i\vn\v\\\s (tii.^\ JJcmtanx is liorc iiscil fop mcnm. as di-iuciils I'ur au'iit'-i, »Scc.

THE PICTURE. 115

Not to be named with thee, should so outshine

thee In jewels, and variety of wardrobes ; While you, to Avhose sweet innocence both Indies Compared are of no value, wanting these, Pass unreo'arded.

Soph. If I am so rich, or In your opinion, why should you borrow Additions for me ?

Math. Why ! I should be censured Of ignorance, possessing such a jewel Above all price, if I forbear to give it The best of ornaments: therefore, Sophia, In ic.\v words know my pleasure, and obey me, As you have ever done. To your discretion I leave the government of my family, And our poor fortunes ; and from these command Obedience to you, as to myself: To the utmost of what's mine, live plentifully; And, ere the remnant of our store be spent. With my good sword I hope I shall reap for you A harvest in such full abundance, as Shall make a merry winter.

Soph. Since you are not To be diverted, sir, from what you purpose, All arguments to stay you here are useless : Go when you please, sir. Eyes, I charge you,

waste not One drop of sorrow; look you hoard all up Till in my widow'd bed I call upon you, But then be sure you fail not. You blest angels, Guardians of human life, I at this instant Forbear t'invoke you: at our parting, 'twere To personate devotion.* My soul

* To personate dexotion.'\ i. e. to play it as aa assumed part. See Vol. II. p. 497.

12

116 THE PICTURE.

Sliall go along with you, and, M'lien you are Circled with death and horrour, seek and lind

you ; And then 1 will not leave a saint unsued to For your protection. To tell you what 1 will do in your ahsence, would shew poorly ; i\Iv actions shall speak for me : "twere to doubt

To beg I may hear from you ; where you are You c-annot live obscure, nor shall one j)Ost, Bv night or day, pass unexamined by me. If I dwell long u))on your lips, consider, After this feast, the griping fast that follows, And it will be excusable; pray turn from me. All that I can, is spoken. [EtU.

Math. Follow your mistress. Torbear your wishes for me ; let me find them At my return, in your prompt Mill to serve her. ////. For my part, sir, 1 w ill grow lean with study To make her merry.

Coris. Though you are my lord, Yet being her gentlewoman, by my place T may take my leave ; your hantl, or, if you please To have me fight so higli, Fll not be coy, IJut stand a-tip-toe ior't.

Malli. (), fire; well, girl ! [Kisses her.

ll'il. A ki^^ well begg'd, Corisca. Coris. 'Twas ni}' ice ; Lovi-, how hi' melts!' I cannot blame my lady's I; UM illingness to part ^ilh sucdi maimalade

li])s, Tliere will lie scrambling for thi-m in the c-anip ;

' I, ovc, 7/oa) //f /«<//«.'] So llic (niarlo : ilic iiKHltin editions liavf, .loM*, Itmo he units. \\ tiy (Joxi'tcr made llu- aili'ralioii 1 laimot even eurss; miri-ly, deity lor dc-ity, the loiinor is \.\\c hiohl iiuluial lor Corikcu to swear I)).

THE PICTURE. 117

And were it not for my honesty, I could wish now I were his leaguer laundress;" I would find Soap of mine own, enough to wash his linen, Or I would strain hard for't.

Hil. ilow the mammet twitters ! Come, come; my lady stays for us.

Corh. Would I had been Her ladyship the last night !

////. No more of that, wench.

[Edxunt Hilario, Corisca, and the rest,

* ■ I could wish now

I TOf-re his leaguer laundress;^ Mr. M. Mason reads his le'igcr landrcss ; Avhat he uiulerstood by it, I know not, but Corisca means his camp laundress.

" While I lay

" In the leaguer at Ardennes, he corrupts " Two mercenary slaves," &c. Love's Victor ij.

Leaguer is the Dutch, or rather Flemish, word for a camp; and was one of the newfangled terms introduced from the Low- Countries. This innovation on the English language is excel- lently noticed by Sir JohnSmythe, in Certain Discourses concerning the Formes and Ejlccts of divers Sorts of Weapons i^-c. 4to. 1390. " These," (the officers mentioned before,) " utterlie ignorant of all our auncient discipline and proceedings in actions of armes, have so affected the Wailons, Flemings, and base Almanes dis- cipline, that they have -procured to innovate, or rather to sub- vert all our auncient proceedings in matters military : — as, for example, they will not vouchsafe in their speaches or writings to use our termes belonging to matters of warre, but doo call a campe by the Dutch name oi' legar; nor will not aford to say that such a towne or such a fort is beseiged, but that it is be- legard: — as though our English nation, which hath been so famous in all actions militarie manie hundred yeares, were now but newly crept into the world ; or as though our language were so barren, that it were not able of itself, or by derivation to affoord convenient words to utter our minds in matters of that qualitie."

I cannot avoid adding my wishes that our officers would re- flect a little on these sensible observations : there is now a greater aliectation than ever, of introducing French military phrases into our army ; the consequences of which may be more important than they seem to imagine.

lis THE PICTURE.

Math. I am strangely troubled : yet why I should nourish A fury here, and \vith imagined food, Having; no real i>;rounds on whieh to raise A building of suspieion she Mas ever Or ean be false hereafter ? I in this But foolishly enquire the knowledge of A future sorrow, w hieh, if 1 lind out, ]\Iy present ignoranee were a eheap purehase, Though with my loss of being. I have already Dealt with a friend of mine, a general seholar, One deej)ly reacP in nature's hidden secrets. And, thougli witli much unwillingness, have won

him To do as much as art can, to resolve me My fate that follows — To my wish, he's come.

Enter Baptist A.

Julio Baptista, now I may affirm Your promise and performance walk together; And therefore, without circumstance, to thepoint; Instruct me what I dw.

5 . aiicneral scliolar,

One deeply read &c.j In (ho list of dramatis persona*, too, lu' is called a !^rciit nchular. The character of !>a|)tista is founded upon a notion very generally received in the dark a^es, that men of learning; were conversant in the operations of magick : and, indeed, a scholar and a magician are frequently confouniU-d l)y our old writers, or rather con>i(lered as one and the same. Tlie jiution is not \e( obsolete among ihe vulgar.

Haptista Porta has given an elaborate accounl. in iii-. (reatisc dc ^lagiu iitittiriiU^ of the powers once supposed to be posst^sed and exercised h\ magicians. I believe that this work was not j)u!)lislie(l in Massinger's time; but botlMhat and (he author had long been familiar •" in tiie mouths of men," and \\ere proi)ably not unknown (o Massinger. Il i^ an inneniou-. conjerture of Mr, (;iKhris(, (hat lu' (ook the name of his '• deep-read bcholur," Iruni Bnptiita I'orla.

THE PICTURE. ug

Bapt. I could wish you had Made trial of my love some other way.

Alath. Nay, this is from the purpose.

Hapt. If you can Proportion your desire to any mean, I do pronounce you happy ; I have found, By certain rules of art, your matchless wife Is to this present hour from all pollution Free and untainted.

JMcith. Good.

Hapt. In reason, therefore, You should fix here, and make no further search Of what may fall hereafter.

Math. O, Baptista, -'Tis not in me to master so my passions ; I must know further, or you have made good But half your promise. While my love stood by, Holding her upright, and my presence was A watch upon her, her desires being met too With equal ardour from me, what one proof Could she give of her constancy, being un-

tempted ? But when I am absent, and my coming back Uncertain, and those wanton heats in women Not to be quench'd by lawful means, and she The absolute disposer of herself, Without control or curb ; nay, more, invited By opportunity, and all strong temptations, If then she hold out —

Bapt. As, no doubt, she Avill.

Matli. Those doubts must be made certainties, Baptista, By your assurance ; or your boasted art Deserves no admiration. How you trifle. And play with my affliction ! I am on The rack, till you confirm me.

Bapt. Sure, Mathias,

1120 THE PICTURE.

I am no god, nor can I dive into

Her hidden tliQuulits, orknow what her intents are;

Tiiat is denied to art, and kept coneeal'd

E'enfronitliedeviUtheniselvesitliey can but guess,

Out of long observation, Avliat is likely ;

But positively to foretel that* shall be,

You may conclude impossible. All I can,

I w ill do for you ; w hen you are distant from her

A thousand leagues, as if you then were with her,

You shall know truly when she is solicited,

And how far wrought on.

JSlatk. I desire no more.

Bapt. Take then this little model of Sophia, With more than human skill limn'd to the life;

\G'vces him a picture^ Each line and lineament of it in the drawinu; So punctually observed, that, had it motion, In so much "twere herself.

JMatli. It is, indeed, An admirable piece ! but if it have not Some hidden virtue that I cannot guess at, In Avhat can it advantage me .^

Bapt. ril instruct you : Carry it still about you, and as oft As you desire to know Ikjw she's affected, With curious eyes peruse it : w bile it keeps The figure it now has, entire and perfect, She is not only innocent in fact, But unattempted ; but if once it vary From the true form, and what's now white and red Incline to yellow,' rest most conlideuc

'' Dut posit ixclij toforetil lliat shall he,] All the coj)ios road, Hull tins shall he, which sjioilb the verse, ami is not, iiulted, the laiij;uaj;e ol the age.

' Init if once it vun/

Frum till- true fur m J and ziliat's now white ami red

hulini. to )ellow,j It is not improbable but that these and

THE PICTURE. 121

She's with all violence courted, but unconquer'cl;

But if it turn all black, 'tis an assurance

The fort, by composition or surprise.

Is forced or with her free consent surrender'd.

Math. How much you have engaged me for this favour The service of my whole life shall make good.

Bapt. We will not part so, Til along with you, And it is needful ; with the rising sun The armies meet ; yet, ere the fight begin, In spite of opposition, I will place you In the head of the Hungarian general's troop, And near his person.

Math. As my better angel, You shall direct and guide me,

Bapt. As we ride I'll tell you more.

Math. In all things I'll obey you. [E.veimt.

SCENE 11.

Hungary. A State-i^oom in the Palace. Enter Ubaldo and Ricaedo.

Ric. When came the post ?

Ubald. The last night. '

Ric. From the camp ?

Ubald. Yes, as 'tis said, and the letter writ and sign'd By the general, Ferdinand.

Ric. Nay, then, sans question, It is of moment.

similar fictions were originally derived from the rabbinical no- tion, that distant events were signified to the high-priest by changes in the colour of the precious stones which formed the Urim and Thummim.

122 THE PICTURE.

Ubalil It concerns the lives Of two "Tcat armies.

Ric, Was it cheerfully Received by the kino?

Vbald. Yes ; for being assured The armies were in view of one another, Having' proclaim'd a publick fast and prayer For the good success, he dispatch'd a gentleman Of his privy chamber to the general, With absolute authority from him To try the fortune of a day.

R'lc. No (h)ubt then The general will come on, and fight it bravely. Heaven prosper him ! This military art I grant to be the noblest of professions ; And yet, I thank my stars for't, I was never Inclined to learn it; since this bubble honour, (^\'hich is, indeed, the notliing soldiers fight for,) With the loss of limbs or life, is, in m} judgment, Too dear a purchase,"

Vbald. Give me our court M'arfare : The danii-er is not srreat in the encounter Of a fair mistress.

Ric. Fair and sound toirc iher Do very well, Ubaldo ; but such are With difliculty to be found out ; and w hen they

know Their \ ;ilut', prized too higli. Wy thy oa\ n rej)ort, Thou wast at twcKc a gamester, and since that, Studied all kiiuls of iemales, tVoni the night- tiadcr

,s//u'r this bubhlc houuur^

(ll'ltkk /.i, indcvil^ the /luthi/ig .soldiers fis^ht for,) With the loss of limbs or lifi\, is, in tiij/jud^iiunt, Too dear a purchase.^ In this passage, ^vliicli has bfcii hilhrrfu most al)siir(llv pointed, Ma.ssinm'r, as Coxclrr ohscrvrs, had Shaksprarc in his lliyught><j and i)rincipall\ FalsLill '> hiiniourous cuti'chisui.

THE PICTURE. 123

I'tlie street, with certain danger to thy pocket, To tlie great lady in her cabinet ; That spent upon thee more in cullise-s, To strengthen thy weak back, than would main- tain Twelve Flanders mares, and as many running

horses : Besides apothecaries and surgeons' bills. Paid upon all occasions, and those frequent.

Ubald. You talk, Ricardo, as if yet you were A novice in those mysteries.

Ric. By no means ; My doctor can assure the contrary : I lose no time. I have felt the pain and pleasure, As he that is a gamester, and plays often, Must sometimes be a loser.

Ubald. Wherefore, then, Do you envy me ?

Ric. It grows not from my want, Nor thy abundance ; but being, as I am. The likelier man, and of much more experience. My good parts are my curses: there's no beauty But yields ere it be summon'd ; and, as nature Had sign'd me the monopoly of maidenheads, There's none can buy till I have made my market. Satiety cloys me; as I live, I Avould part with Half my estate, nay, travel o'er the world. To find that only phoenix in my search. That could hold out ao-ainst me.

Ubald. Be not rapt so ; You may spare that labour. As she is a woman, What think you of the queen ?

Ric. I dare not aim at The petticoat royal, that is still excepted : Yet, were she not my king's, being the abstract Of all that's rare, or to be wish'd in "woman, To write her in my catalogue, having enjoy'd her,

V2i Tin: PICTURE.

I would vfiUure my neck to a halter — but we

talk of Impossibilities: as she hath a beauty AVoukl make old Nestor young ; such majesty Draws forth a sword of terrour to detend it, As would fright Paris, though the (jueen of love Vow'd her best furtherance to him.

Ubald. Have you observed The <>;ravity of her language mix'd with sweetness?

Ric. Then, at what distance she reserves herself M'hcn the king himself makes his approaches to lier —

Vbald. As she were still a virgin, and his life But one continued wooing.

R'lc She well knows Her worth, and values it.

Ubald. And so far the king is Indulgent to her humours, that he forbears The duty of a husbanil, l)ut when she calls for't.

llic. All his imaginations and thoughts Are buried in her; the loud noise of war Cannot awake him.

Ubald. At this very instant, \\'hen i)0th his life and crown arc at the stake, lie only studies her content, and when She's pleased to shew herself, musick and masks Are with all care and cost provided for her.

Rk. This night .she promised to apj)c:u-.

Ubald. You may Believe it by the diligence of the king, As if he were her harbinger.

EnttT Lauislais, Kluljas, and AtUtidaut'' 'ii'ttli prrf'inm's.

hadis. These rooms Arc not perfumed, as wc directed.

TPIE PICTURE. 125

Euhu. Not, sir ! I knoAv^ not what you would have ; I am sure the

smoak Cost treble the price of the whole week's provision Spent, in your majesty's kitchens.

Ladis. How I scorn Thy gross comparison ! When my' Honoria, The amazement of the present time, and envy Of all succeeding ages, does descend To sanctify a place, and in her presence j\Iakes it a temple to me, can I be Too curious, much less prodigal, to receive her? But that the splendour of her beams of beauty Hath struck thee blind —

Eubu. As dotage hath done you. Ladis. Dotage ? O blasphemy ! is it in me To serve her to her merit ? Is she not The daughter of a king ?

Eubii. And you the son Of ours I take it; by what privilege else Do you reign over us? for my part, I know not Where the disparity lies.

LadU. Her birth, old man, (Old in the kingdom's service, which protects

thee,) Is the least grace in her: and though her beauties Might make the Thunderer a rival for her, They are but superficial ornaments, And faintly speak her : from her heavenly mind, Were all antiquity and fiction lost, Our modern poets could not, in their fancy, But fashion a Minerva far transcendins; The imagined one whom Homer only dreamt of. But then add this, she's mine, mine, Eubulus !*

^ When my IJoiwria^ Mr. M. Mason omits my; I know not wiK thcr by inadvertence or design ; but it injures the metre.

* hut then add t/ih, she's mine^ 7nin€, Eubulus!] Our old

126 THE PICTURE.

And tliouQ-li slic knows one glance from her fair

eyes Must make all gazers her idolaters, She is so sparing of their influence, That, to shun superstition in others, She shoots her powerful heams only at me. And can I, then, whom she desires to hold Her kingly captive above all the Morkl, Whose nations and empires, if she pleased, She might command as slaves, but gladly pay The lunnble tribute of my love and service, Nay, if I said of adoration, to her, I did not err ?

Eiihii. Well, since you hug your fetters, In Love's name wear them ! You are a king, and

that Concludes you wise :^ your will a powerful reason, M'hich we, that are foolish subjects, must not

arii'ue. And what in a mean man I should call follv, Is in your majesty remarkable wisdom : But for me, 1 subscribe.

Lad'is. Do, and look up, Upon this wonder.

^Titers wore very lax in their use of foreinn names, Ma^sin^jcr was a scholar, jet he proiiouaces^ilubulus much as Shakspcarc would have done it.

You arc a king, and that

8(

Cimcliahs you -disc: &.C.] Massiiii^er appi'ais to me to have, vcral sly thrusts, in various parts ol" his works, at the slavish doctrines maintained by most of the celebrated writers of his time :

" be it one poet's praise,

" 'J'hal if lie pleased, he pleasied by maul) vsaju, *' That (lattery eveti to kini^s he held a shame, *' And thouj^lii a lie in verse or pro-^e the same."

THE PICTURE. 127

Loud musick. Enter Ho nor i a in state, under a Canopy; Iter train born up by Sylvia and

ACANTHE.

Ric. Wonder ! It is more, sir.

Ubald. A rapture, an astonishment.

Ric. What think you, sir?

Eubu. As the king thinks, that is the surest guard We courtiers ever lie at.' Was prince ever So droAsai'd in dotage ? Without spectacles I can see a handsome woman, and she is so : But yet to admiration look not on her. Heaven, how he fawns ! and, as it were his duty, With what assured gravity she receives it ! Her hand ao-ain ! O she at leno-th vouchsafes Her lip, and as he had suck'd nectar from it^ How he's exalted ! Women in their natures Affect command ; hut this humility In a husband and a king marks her the way To absolute tyrannj^ [77?e king seats her on his

throne.'] So ! Juno's placed In Jove's tribunal ; and, like Mercury, (Forgetting his own greatness,) he attends For her employments. She prepares to speak ; What oracles shall we hear now ?

Hon. That you please, sir. With such assurances of love and favour, To grace your handmaid, but in being yours, sir, A matchless queen, and one that' knon'S herself so, Binds me in retribution to deserve The grace conferr'd upon me. Ladis. You transcend

' Eubu. As the king thinks, that is the surest guard

JVe courtiers ever lie at.] i. e. the surest posture of defence.

" Thou knowest," says FalstaiF, " my old ward; thus I la^.''''

&uard aod ward are the same word.

V2^ THE PICTURE.

Ill all things excellent; and it is iny glorv,

Your worth weiglTd trul}', to depose myself

From absolute command, surrendering up

j\Iy will and faculties to your disposure :

And here I vow, not for a day or year,

But my whole life, which I wish long to serve you,

That M'hatsoever I in justice may

Exact from these my subjects, you from me

IVIay boldly challenge : and when vou retjuire it^

In sii>-n of mv subjection, as voiir vassal.

Thus I Mill pay my homage.

JIo?i. O forbear, sir ! Let not my lips envy my robe ; on them Print your allegiance often : I desire -No other fealty.

Ladis. Gracious sovereiu,n ! l^oundless in bounty !

Eubu. Is not here fine fooling ! He's, (juestionless, bewitclTd. M'ould I were u-eit. So that would disenchant him ! th()uu;h I forfeit IMy life for't, I must speak, \\y your good leave,

sir — I bavc no suit to you, nor can you grant one^ Having no power: > ou arc like me, a subject, Her more than serene majesty being ])reseut. And I must tell you, "tis ill manners in you, J laving deposed yourself, to k(u-p your iiat on, And not stand bare, as mc do, being no king, Jkit a fellow-subject with us. (ientlenuMi-ushers, It does belonii' to your place, sec it refornfd ; Hebasgiven away hiscrown, and cannot challenge The j)ri\ilcge of his bonnet.

Ladi.s. Do not tcmjit me.

Kubii. Tempt you ! in what? in follow ing youi exam])le r If you are angry, (jucstion me hereafter, A'i Ladislaus should do Lluhulus,

THE PICTURE, 129

On equal terms. You were of late my sovereign But Aveary of it, I now bend my knee To her divinity, and desire a boon From her more than magnificence.

Hon. Take it freely. Nay, be not moved ; for our mirth's sake let us hear him.

Euha. 'Tis but to ask a question : Have you ne'er read The story of Semiramis and Ninus ?

Hon. Not as I remember.

Euhu. I will then instruct you, And 'tis to the purpose : This Ninus was a king, And such an impotent loving king as this Avas, But now he's none ; this Ninus (pray you ob- serve me) Doted on this Semiramis, a smith's wife ; (I must confess, there the comparison holds not, You are a king's daughter, yet, under your cor- rection, Like her, a woman ;) this Assyrian monarch, Of whom this is a pattern, to express His love and service, seated her, as you are, In his regal throne, and bound by oath his

nobles, Forgetting all allegiance to himself, One day to be her subjects, and to put In execution whatever she Pleased to impose upon them : — pray you command

him To minister the like to us, and then You shall hear what follow'd.

Ladi^. Well, sir, to your story.

Eiibii. You have no warrant, stand by ; let me know Your pleasure, goddess.

Hon. Let thi^ nod assure you.

. VOL. III. K

13t> THE PICTURE.

Eubu. (rO(Ulcss-like, indeed ! as I live, a pretty idol ! Slic knoNviiii;- lici' power, wisely made use of it ; And leaving liis incoustaney, and repentance Of what he had granted, (as, in reason, madam, Voii may do his,) that he might never have Power to recall his grant, or (juestion lier For her short government, instantly gave order To have his head strncK off.

Ladis. Is't possihle ?

Eubu. The story says so, and commends her M isdom I'or making use of her authority- And it is worth your imitation, madam : He loves subjection, and you are no (pieen, Unless you make him feel the weight of it. You are more than all the world to him, and that He may be so'' to you, and not seek change, When his delights are sated, mew him up In some close prison, (if you let him live, Which is no policy,) and there diet him As you think lit, to feed your appetite; Since there ends his ambition.

LbaUL Devilish counsel ! ..

Ric. The king's amazed.

* Yim are more than all the ixorld to him, and that JIc /mil/ be foo to i/i>u, ] This is the icailin'j; of all the olil coj^ii's, bill most iiTtaiiiiy IuIsl". It oiij;lit to be

a/id that

He 7/iai/ be so to you. Coxlteii.

Whin it is coiisidcrrd (hat the olil way of sju'lliiitj so was /t;r, and that the /'is ri('(|iiiii(lv !ni>ifak.i'n lor an /, we shall not l)c inclimd to think oxtiuordinaiily hi';hl> of llic ••difor's sauurity, notwilhslandiii;; it xa set oil l)y u r.ipital li'tti'r. wliiiii is not to he loiind in tlio orijiinal. Hul in>\\ slrjw in .Mr. .M. .Masun, and, having (he scont ol an .inu-iidnii-nl p.i.MiDunci s so to lu- nonsi nsi! and jiropoHcs lo roai', (nay, actually prints,) true, uliich, saitli he, '' is iridi/ttiij the light word." .Vll this thrashing lor dull I

THE PICTURE. 131

UbnhL The queen appears, too, full Of deep ima^'inations; Eubulus Hath put both to it.

Ric. Now she seems resolved : I long to knoA\^ the issue.

\_Honorla descends from the throng.

Hon. Give me leave, Dear sir, to reprehend you for appearing Perplex'd with what this old man, out of envy Of your unequall'd graces shower'd upon me, Hath, in his fabulous story, saucily Applied to me. Sir, that you only nourish Oue doubt Honoria dares abuse the power With which she is invested by your favour; Or that she ever can make use of it To the injury of you, the great bestower, Takes from your judgment. It was your delight To seek to* me with more obsequiousness Than I desired : and stood it with my duty Not to receive what you were pleased to offer? I do but act the part you put upon me, And though you make me personate a queen, And you my subject, when the play, your pleasure, Is at a period, I an) what I was Before I enter'd, still your humble wife, And you my royal sovereign.

Ric. Admirable !

Hon. I have heard of captains taken more with dangers Than the rewards ; and if, in your approaches To those delights which are your own, and freely, To heighten your desire, you make the passage Narrow and difficult, shall 1 prescribe you, Or blame your fondness ? or can that swell me Beyond my just proportion.?

Ubald. Above wonder !

5 To seek to me &c.] See Vol. I. p. 221.

K2

132 THE PICTURE.

Laills. Heaven make me tluuikful for sucli goodness I

Hon. Now, sir, The state 1 took to satisfy your pleasure, I ehange to this humility ; aucl tlie oath You matle to me of homage, I thus eancel, And seat vou in ^()ur own.

[Leads the king to the throne.

Ladis. I am transported Beyond myself.

Hon. And now, to your Mise lordshij) : Am I proved a Semiraniis? or liath My Ninus, as malieiously yon maile him, Cause to repent tlie exeess of favour to me, M'hich you eall dotaire ?

Ladis. Answer, vretch !

Euhu. I dare, sir, And say, however the event may plead In your defenee, you had a guilty eause; Nor was it wistlom in yon, 1 repeat it, To teach a lady, huml)le in herself, M'ith the ridiculous dotage of a lover, To l)e amhitious.

H(>)i. l\ul)nlns, 1 am so ; 'Tis rooted in me ; you mistake my temper. I do profess myself to Ix; the most And>itious of my sex, hut not to hold Connnaud over my lord ; such a j)roud torrent Would sink nu- in my wishes: not that 1 Am ignorant how nuich 1 can deser\'e, And may with justice challenge.

Kiihu. 'I'his 1 look'd for ; After this seeming hnmhli- chh, 1 knew A gushing tide n\ onld follow.

Hon. ]>)■ iii\ Itirtl), And liln-ral gitt> of nature, as of fortune, Ironi you, us things beneath me, 1 expect

THE PICTURE. 133

What's due to majesty, in wlvich I am A sharer with your sovereign.

Eubii. Good again !

Hon, And as I am most eminent in place, In all my actions I u'ould appear so.

Ladis. You need not fear a rival,

Huu. I hope not ; And till I find one, I disdain to know W hat envy is.

Ladis. You are above it, madam.

Hon. For beauty without art, discourse, and free' From affectation, with what graces else Can in the wife and daughter of a king Be wish'd, I dare prefer myself, as •

Eubu. I Blush for you, lady. Trumpet your own praises !''

* For bcaicti/ without art, discourse, and free &c.J Tliese last words arc improperly arranged, we should read,

For beauty xvit/iout art, and discourse free from affectation.

M. Mason.

I know not how much Mr. M. Mason had read of his author when he wrote this note ; but must take leave to think, that his acquaintance with h'im was exceedingly superficial. The mode of expression, which he would change into tame prose by his arrangement, is so frequent in Massinger, as to form one of the characteristicks of his style. It is not, indeed, unknown to, or unused by, any of his contemporaries : but in none of them are the recurrences of it so frequent. See Act IV. sc i. note 8.

' Eubu. /

Blush for you, lady. Trumpet your own praises !] Dodsley reads.

As I

Blush for you, lady, trumpet not your own praise. Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason :

As I

Blush for you, lady, trumpet your oxvn praises

And explain it to mean that — " she herself having lost all sense of shame, he undertakes to blush for her ; and therefore ironi- cally bids her proceed."

I like neither of these readings. Dodsley's is very tame ; and

134 THE PICTURE.

This spoken by tlie people ha.d been liecird Vt itli honour to you. Does the court aHoid Ko oil-tongued parasite, that you are forced To be your own gross flatterer ?

Ladis. De dumb, Thou spirit of contradiction !

Hon. The mo It' But barks against the moon, and I contemn it. The mask you promised. [^A liorn soiouicil icith'm.

Ladis. Let them enter.

Enter a Courier.

HoM' !

Euhd. Here's one, I fear, unlook'd for.

Ladis. From the camj) }

Cour. The general, victorious in your fortune, Kisses your hand in this, sir. [Ddivirs a Icltcr.

Ladis. That great l*o\v er, "\\ ho at his pleasure does dispose of battles, lie ever praised for't ! Head, sweet, and j)ai lake it : The Turk is vancjuishd, and with little loss Upon our j)art, in which our joy is doubled,

Eubu. Jhit let it not exalt you ; hear ii, sir, ^^'ith moderation, and j)ay \\hat } ou owe foi't.

Ladis. 1 understand thee, Euhuius. Til not now Enquire particulars. — [A.r/7 Cdi/ricr. ] — Our de- lights deferr'd. With reveic'iice to till" temples; there we'll teiuh'r

Coxctcr's a( variamt" with ^\llat IoUoms. Tlic ulil cojiy jxtiiits the passage thus : Kuh. ./.s / lii'ii.Ji Jar i;uii Unlii, trutiipit 1/our nxin priivscs ? A\ lii( li It-ads nu' t<» misjxu ( that Jlio (|ih'cii >\ as iiitorriiplfd by the inipaticiicc of Kiibiiliis ; ami upon that idea I iiavr ri-Kulali-d <hc l(\i. This is I)) far the ii;rcatcbl libcrl) i have )ct takcii liith my author.

THE PICTURE. 135

Our souls' clevofions to Jiis dread miglit, Who edged our swords, and taught us how to fight. [Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Bohemia. A Room in Mathias' House, Enter Hilario and Co Rise a.

Hil. You like luy speech ?

Coris. Yes, if you give it action In the delivery.

Hil. If! I pity you. I have play'd the fool before ; this is not the first

time, Nor shall be, I hope, the last.

Coris. Nay, I think so too.

Hil. And if I put her not out of her dumps with laughter, I'll make her howl for anger.

Coris. Not too much Of that, good fellow Hilario : our sad lady Hath drank too often of that bitter cup ; A pleasant one must restore her. With what

patience "Would she endure to hear of the death of my

lord ; That, merely out of doubt he may miscarry, Afflicts herself thus ?

Hil. Umph ! 'tis a question A widow only can resolve. There be some

135 THE PICTURE.

That in their huslxands' sicknesses* have wept Their })ottle of tears a day ; l)ut hcing once cer- tain At nii(hiiL;ht he Avas dead, liave in the morning Dried np tlieir handkerchiefs, and tliouglit no more on't.

Coris. Tush, she is none of that race ; if her sorrow Be not true and perfect, I against my sex Will take my oath woman ne'er wept in earnest. She has made herself a prisoner to her chamber, Dark as a (Umgeon, in which no beam Of comfort enters. She admits no visits ; Eats little, and her nightly musick is. Of sighs and groans, tuned to such harmony Of feeling grief, that I, against my nature, Am made one of the consort.' This hour only She takes the air, a custom every day She solemnly observes, with greedy hopes, From some that pass by, to recei\e assurance Of the success and safety of her lord. Now, if that your device M'ill take

Jill. Ne'er fear it : I am provided cap-i\-pie, and have My properties in readiness.

Sopli. [7(il/ii)i.] Ihing my veil, there.

Coris, lie gone, I hear her coming.

////. If I do not

* T/tdf ill thiir husl>uiiiis' sickncsscs have iccpt~\ So tlir qviarhi: thi' iiioilt 111 editors road,

That in their husband's sickness have wept wliiili iitlorlv drstro)s (lie i\>(-fro. In the ni'xt sprorli, for — voinan iit'cr licji/, Mr. INI. Mason mxs ii>, — wwimcn iii'rr x:<pt f and tluis lie stinnblcs and hlnndcrs on tliron^li (lie whole work.

' yl/ii made one of t/i( (-(twsort. ] ll«'rr, as ovorv where elsr, Mr. M. Mason discharm's ihc genuine mokI kn concert. Sec the I'ttliil D<jui\i/.

THE PICTURE. 137

Appear, and, what's more, appear perfect, hiss me. [Edit.

Enter Sophia.

Sopli. I was flatterVl once, I was a star, hut now Turn'd a prodigious meteor, and, hke one. Hang in tlie air between my hopes and fears ; And every hour, the little stuff burnt out That yields a waning light to dying comfort, I do expect my fall, and certain ruin. In wretched things more wretched is delay ; And Hope, a parasite to me, being unmask'd, Appears more horrid than Despair, and my Distraction worse than madness. Ev^en my pray ers, When with most zeal sent upward, are pull'd down With strong imaginary doubts and fears, And in their sudden precipice o'erwhelm me. Dreams and fantastick visions walk the round* About my widow'd bed, and every slumber 's Broken with loud alarms : can these be then But sad presages, girl ?

Cor is. You make them so, And antedate a loss shall ne'er fall on you. Such pure affection, such mutual love, A bed, and undefiled on either part, A house without contention, in two bodies One will and soul, like to the rod of concord, Kissing each other, cannot be short-lived, Or end in barrenness. — If all these, dear madam, (Sweet in your sadness,) should produce no fruit, Or leave the age no models of yourselves,

* Dreams and fantastich visions walk the round] For — f/te round, Coxeter would read, their round ; but he did not under- stand the phrase. To " walk the round" was techHical, and meant to watch, in which seose it often occurs in Massiuger, and other writers of his age.

108 Tin- PICTURE.

To witness to posterity what you were ; Succeeding times, frighted M'ith the example, But hearing ot" your story, A\ouhl instruct Their tairest issue to meet sensuallv, Like other creatures, and forhear to raise True Love, or Hymen, altars.

Soph. O Corisca, I know thy reasons are like to thy wishes ; And they are huilt upon a weak foundation. To raise me comfort. Ten long days are past, Ten long days, my Corisca, since my lord Emhark"d himself upon a sea of danger. In his dear care of me. And if his life Had not been shipwreck'd on the rock of Mar, His tenderness of me (knoM'ing how much I languish i'or his absence) had provided Some trusty friend, from whom I might receive Assurance of his safety.

Coris. Ill ncM's, madam, Are swallow-wing'd, hut that's good walks on

crutches : With patience expect it, and, ere long, Ko doubt, you shall hear from him.

[A soxcgcldei'^s horn b/ow/i.

Soph. Ha! What's that?

Coris. The fool has got a so wgelder's horn . A ])Ost, As I take it, madam.

Soph. It makes this way still; Nearer and nearer.

Coris. V\'(m\ tlic camp, I hope.

Enter one (/is<iifisc(/ as a Couricry xcith a horn ; fol- lowed In/ Hi LARK), in (Utticlc arinour, 'with loii<^ •while hair and heard.

S()})h. The messenger appears, and in strange armour. Heaven I iC it be thy will —

THE PICTURE. V39

Hll. It is no boot To strive; our horses tired, let's Avalk on foot: And tliat tlie castle, which is very near us, To give us entertainment, may soon hear us, Blow lustily, my lad, and drawing nigli-a/ Ask for a lady which is cleped bopliia.

Calais. He names 3^ou, madam.

Hil. For to her I bring, Thus clad in arms, news of a pretty thing, By name Mathias. [E:vit Courier.

Soph. From my lord ? O sir, I am Sophia, that Mathias' wife. So may Mars favour you in all j^our battles, As you with speed unload me of the burthen I labour under, till I am confirmed Both -where and how you left him !

Hil. If thou art. As I believe, the pigsney of his heart, Know he's in health, and what's more, full of glee; And so much I was will'd to say to thee.

Soph. Have you no letters from him ?

Hil. No more words. ^ In the camp we use no pens, but write with swords: Yet as I am enjoin'd, by word of mouth I will proclaim his deeds from north to south;

* Blow lusiihj my lady and drawing nigli-a,

Ask for a lady which in cleped Sophia.] Coxeter took the a from nigh-a, and Mr. M. Mason, not to behind hand in the bu- siness of improvement, reduced Sophia to Sophy. He then ob- serves with great self-complacency, " this emendation" (emen- dation!) " is evidently right; as all the rest of this ridiculous speech is in rhyme, we should without doubt read Sophy instead of Sop/lid'^ ! After all this contidence, the old copy reads precisely as I have given it.

^ Hil. No more words.^ Here is another "emendation"! The editors read; No, mere words. But Hilario alludes to what he had just said — " so much / twa* will'd to say to thee — and therefore question me no further." The contradiction which fol- lows, makes the humour, if it may be so styled, of this absurd interlude.

140 THE PICTURE.

But tremble not, Avliilc I relate the wonder. Though my eyes like liglitning shine, and niy voiee thunder.

Soph. This is some eounterteit braggart.

('oris. Hear hiui, madam.

JJi/. The rear mareh'd iirst, whieh tollo\v"d by the van, And \\ ing'tl with the battalia/ no man Durst stay to shift a shirt, or louse himself; Yet, ere the armies join'd, that hopeful elf, Thy dear, thy dainty duckling, bold Mathias, Advanced, and stared like Hercules or Ciolias. A hundred thousand Turks, it is no vaunt, Assaird him ; every one a Termagaunt : But what did he then? with his keen-edge spear He cut and carbonaded them: here and there Eay legs and arms; and, as 'tis said trulee Of Bevis, some he (juarter'd all in three.

Sop/i. This is ridiculous.

////. I must take })reath; Thi'u, like a nightingale, TU sing his deatli.

Sop/i. His (h-iilh ! '

////. I am out.

Ciiris. Recover, (hinder-head.

JJi/. How he escaped, 1 should ha\ e sung, not died ; I'or, though a knight, when I said so, I licMl. \V'ear\ he was, an<l scarce couUl stand ii]irigltt. And looking round tor some couraireous kniiiht 'Jo rescue him, as one j)ci'plexM in woe, lie caird to me, Hcl|), he!]), Ililario! My \aliant sci\ ant, help !

Cons. 1 Ic has spoiTd all.

* And -ui/ifi'U uitli llic l):i((;ili;i, | Mr. .M. .Mason na»l<i Inf- falioii : u lu'ctllcss surcrcase ol iiotisnisc : liy h'ltht/ia our old writers iniant wlwit \m' iio\> call tlu- main i)od) of tlu- army.

THE PICTURE. 141

Soph. Are you the man of arms, then? I'll make bokl To take off your martial beard, you hatl fool's hair Enouii'h without it. Slave 1 how durst thou make Thy sport of what concerns me more tlian life, In such an antick fashion? Am I "rown Contemptible to those I feed? you, minion, Had a hand in it too, as it appears. Your petticoat serves for bases to this wairiour.*

Coris. ^ye did it for your mirth.

Hll. For myself, I hope, I have spoke like a soldier.

Sop]i. Hence, you rascal ! I never but with reverence name mv lord, And can I hear it by thy tongue profaned, And not correct thy folly ? but you are Transforni'd, and turn'd knight-errant ; take ^our

course, And wander where you please; for here I vow By my lord's life, (an oath I M^ill not break,) Till his return, or certainty of his safety, My doors are shut against thee. [Eslt.

Coris. You have made A fine piece of work on't ! How do you like the quality

f^

s Your petticoat serves for bases to this warriour.] Bases ^ccxtx to be some kind of quilted and ornamental covering for the upper part oi" the legs. That it was considered as detVnsive in some measure, I have no doubt, (though Steevons n\aintains tho contrary, sec Pericles, Act II. sc. i.) since it appears, in almost every instance, to have made a part of the military dress of the time :

" Per. Now by your furtherance I am clad in steel " Only, my friend, I yet am unprovided " Of a pair of bases.

" Fish. We'll sure provide : thou shalt have my best gown *' to make thee a pair."

^ How do you like ^//equality ?] i. c. the profession of playing.

142 THE PICTURE.

You had a foolish itch to be an actor, And may stroll Avhere you please.

J 111. \\\\\ you buy my share ?

Coris. No, certainly; I fear I have already Too much of mine own : I'll only, as a damsel, (As the books say,') thus far help to disarm you ; And so, dear Don Quixote, taking my leave, I leave you to your fortune. [Edit,

Jill. Have I sweat I\Iy brains out for this quaint and rare invention, And am I thus rcM'arded ? I could turn Tragedian, and roar now, but that I fear 'Tw oidd £ret me too 2:reat a stomach, having* no

meat To pacify colon: ^ What will become of me? I cannot beg in armour, and steal I dare not : My end must be to stand in a corn field, And fright aM'ay the crows, for bread and cheese ; Or lind some hollow tree in the highway. And there, until my lord return, sell switches: No more Hilario, but l^olorio now, Til weep my eyes out, and be blind of purpose To move compassion ; and 60 I vanish. \_Lxit.

See the Roman Actor, Vol II. p. 339. In tlic last line ol fliis speech, the editors have unnecessarily inserted noii; belor** stroll.

" ^'/i/Z/t books Artj/,] i.e. the books of kHi!ilif-('rranfr\ , ^^ liiih were then much icad. Co.veter and Mr. M. Mason have — Js tlic book says !

" To pacify colon;] i. e. the cravings of liuuger. Sec Vol. I. p. 13'J.

THE PICTURE. 145

SCENE II.

Hungary. Jin Ajite-room in the Palace. Enter Y.\]ji\ji.\jS, Ubaldo, Ricardo, and others*

Eiibu. Arc the gentlemen sent before, as it was order'd By the king's direction, to entertain The general ?

Ric. Long since; they by this have met him, And given him the bienvenu.

Eiibu, I hope I need not Instruct you in your parts.

Ubal. How ! us, my lord ! Fear not; we know our distances and degi^ees To the very inch where we are to salute him.

Ric. The state were miserable, if the court had none Of her own breed, familiar with all garbs Gracious in England, Italy, Spain, or France; With form and punctuality to receive Stranger ambassadours: for the general, He's a mere native, and it matters not Which way we do accost him.

Ubal. 'Tis great pity That such as sit at the helm provide no better For the training up of the gentry. In my judg- ment An academy erected, with large pensions To such as in a table could set down The congees, cringes, postures, metliods, phrase. Proper to every niition

Ric. O, it were An admirable piece of work !

144 THE PICTURE.

i'^bal. And yet rich fools Throw away tlicir charity on hospitals For hcg'gars and lame soldiers, and ne'er study The due regard to compliment and courtship, ^Matters of more import, and are indeed The o'lories of a monarchy.

Eiibii. These, no doubt, Are state points, gallants, I confess; hut, sure, Our court needs no aids this way, since it is' A school of nothing else. There are some of you Whom I forbear to name, wliose coining heads Are the mints of all new fashions, that have done Moreluirttotlie kingdom h\' superfluous bravery,* Which the foolibh gentry imitate, than a war, Or a long famine ; all the treasure, by This foul excess, is got into the merchant, Embroiderer, silkman, jeweller, tailor's hand. And the third part of the land too, the nobility Engrossing titles onlv.

Uic. My lord, you are bitter. [.7 trumpet.

Ejiter a Servant.

Serx\ The general is idighted, and now entcr'd. liic. Were he ten generals, 1 am prepared, And know what I will do. * Kuh. Pray you what, llicardo ? Uic. \'\\ light at compliment w ith him. L'bal. ril chaiiic home ico. Hub. And that's a (lesj)erate ser\ ice ; if you come off M ell.

'^ Our court luiils /;'; ciul\ this xuai/^ iiiicc it is Scv. \ Mr. .M. Masuii, indt'liaiui- of authority and ol uraniinar, reads: Our coxirt^ need no aids tliit nai/ since it &:c. iiidrrd, \\v hath printt'd tlu' Mholi' uT this S|)i;efh wry carrk'sslv, and pointi-d it j^till uiori- so.

* hij sujHrlliioH.s bravery i i. f. as 1 liavc al-

rcudy obsLncd, liuery, cuslliiicss ofappaicl, ^ic.

X THE PICTURE. 145

Enter Ferdinand, Matiiias, Baptista, and

Captains.

Ferd. Captain, command the officers to keep The soklier, as he marchVl, in rank and file, Till they hear Further from me. \_E.veunt Captains.

Eubu. Here's one speaks In another key ; this is no canting language Taught in your academy.

Ftrd. Nay, I will present you To the king myself.

Math. A grace beyond my merit.

Ferd You undervalue what I cannot set Too high a price on.

Eubu. With a friend's true heart, I gratulate your return.

Fei^d. Next to the favour Of the great king, I am happy in your friendship.

Ubaid. By courtship, coarse on both sides !

Ferd. Pray you, receive This stranger to your knowledge; on my credit. At all parts he deserves it.

Eubu. Your repqrt Is a strong assurance to me. Sir, most welcome.

Math. This said^iy you, the reverence of your age Commands me to believe it.

Ric. This was pretty ;

But second me now. 1 cannot stoop too low

To do your excellence that due observance Your fortune claims.

Eubu. He ne'er thinks on his virtue 1

Ric. For being, as you are, the soul of soldiers. And bulwark of Bellona —

Vbald. The protection Botli of the court and king —

VOL. Ill, L

U6 THE PICTURE.

Ric. And the sole minion Of mi "-lit V Mars —

Ubald. One that M'ith justice may Increase the numhcr of the worthies — Euhii. Heyday !

Ric. It being impossible in my arms to circle Such u;i;int M'orth —

i bald. At distance we presume To kiss vour honour'd ""auntlet.

Eiibu. What reply now Can he make to this foppery ?

Ferd. You have said, Gallants, so much, and hitherto done so little, That, till I learn to speak, and you to do, I nnist take time to thank you.

Kubii. As' I live, Answer'd as I could wish. How the fops gape now ! Jlic. This was harsh and scurvy. i'bald. We will be revenged When he comes to court the ladies, and laugh at him. Knbu. Na}', do your offices, gentlemen, and conduct The general to the presence. Ric. Keep your order. Ubald. Make May for the j^'eneral.

[KACKftl (ill but Kabului-. Kubu. What wise man, That, with judicious eyes, looks on a soldier, Jiut nuist confess that fortunes swing is more ()\t that profession, than all kinds else Of life j)ursued by man ? They, iu a .^tate, Are but as surgeons to wounded men, IVcii desperate in their hopes ; w hile pain and

anguish Make them blas])hfme, and call in vain lor death ; Their w ivesund cUildren ki^s the surgeon's knees,

THE PICTURE. U7

Promise him mountains, if his saving hand Restore the tortured wretch to former strength. But M'hen grim death, by ^sculapius' art, Is frighted from the house, and health appears In sano-uine colours on the sick man's face, All is forgot ; and, asking his reward. He's paid with curses, often receives wounds From him whose wounds he cured. I have ob- served, When horrid JNIars,'^ the touch of whose rough

hand With palsies shakes a kingdom, hath put on His dreadful helmet, and with terrour fdls The place where he, like an unwelcome guest, Resolves to revel, how tlie lords of her, like The tradesman, merchant, and litigious pleader, And such like scarabs, bred in the dung of peace, In hope of their protection, humbly offer Their daughters to their beds, heirs to their

service. And wash ^ith tears their sweat, their dust, their scars :

* From him whose -wounds he cured. I have obscned.,

When horrid Mars, &c.] There is both an imperfection and a redundancy in this speech, as it stands in the old edition, w hich reads,

From him whose wounds he cured, so soldiers^ Though oj mure worth and use, meet the samefate^ As it is too apparent. I hate observed In one hue.

When horrid Mars, &c. From the repetitions, I am inclined to think that this solilo- quy (which is sutlicicntly long) was abridged in the prompter's book, and that the abridgment and the original were confounded, and unskilfully copied at the press. This is not a circumstance so improbable as it may appear to some readers, for I could give many instances of it. It should be remembered that there is but one edition of this play, so that the evil is without remedy. Coxeter altered the pointing, without improving th^ sense : and Mr. M. Mason gave the passage unJ^aitlifuUy.

L2

148 THE PICTURE.

But when tliosc clouds of war, that menaccil A hloody deluuje to the affrighted state, Are, hy tlieir hreath, dispersed, and overblown, And famine, Mood, and death, Bellona's pages, M'hipt from the quiet continent to Thrace ;^ Soldiers, that, like the foolish hedge-sparrow, To their oAvn ruin hatch this cuckoo peace. Are straight thought burthensome; since Mant of

means. Growing from" want of action, breeds contempt: And that, the worst of ills, falls to their lot, Their service, Avith the danger, soon forgot.

^ JVhipf from the qukf continent to T/irricr ;'\ Massinsior is here niistaken, for Thrace is upon the continent. Coxetlr.

Massinger probably know as well as the editor, that part of Thrace Avas on the continent ; but the Thracian archipelago, which was dedicated to Mars, is composed of islands.

M. Masov.

It is diOTicult, in the words of Escalus, to say, " whicli is the wiser here, Justice or Iniquity." The contrast is not between a continent and an island, but bttween a state of traiupiiility and one ot \varlar(\ T)ie ancients couiprehended under the name oi' Thrace much ol" the north-eastern part of Europe, the savage inlia'oitants of which Merc supposed to worship Mars and Bellona; who, in return, made the countr) (he peculiar place of their residence. From tlieuce they are frerjuentiy described with great niagnilicence by the poets, as setting forth to kindle war, " with tlieir pages, famine, blood, ami death ;" and thither, when the continent was restored to peace, tlie\ uere suj'.posed to retire again. The same idea, and nearly in the same «ords, has already occurred in l/ic Roman Aclor: A'ua', l/ic <io(l ufxiar,

And faiiiiin., h/ood, and death, Pxllona's pages, lianislt'd from Rome to Thraci\ in oitr good fort i/ne. With just ice he may taste the fruits oj peace.

* (iro:i-ing from :i(int ()fact}on,~\ This is suirieiently clear; jef .Mr, .M. Ma^on altera it to — Growing /y/- want of attiou !

THE PICTURE. UQ

Enter a Servant.

6e;"f. The queen, my lord, hath made choice of tliis room, To see the mask.

Eubu. I'll be a looker on; My dancing days are past.

Loud musick. Enter Ubaldo, Ricardo, Ladi- SLAUS, Ferdinand, Honoria, Mathias, Syl- via, AcANTKE, Baptista, Captains, and others. As they pass, a Song in the praise of war.

Ladis. This courtesy To a stranger, my Honoria, keeps fair rank With all your rarities. After your travail, Look on our court delights; but first, from your Relation, with erected ears Ell hear The musick of your war, which must be sweet, Ending in victory.

Ferd. Not to trouble Your majesties with description of a battle Too full of horrou'r for the place, and to Avoid particulars, which should I deliver, I must trench longer on your patience than My manners will give way to; — in a word, sir, It was well fought on both sides, and almost With equal fortune, it continuing doubtful Upon whose tents plumed Victory would take Her glorious stand. Impatient of delay, With the flowerof our prime gentlemen, I charged Their main battalia, and with their assistance , Brake in ; but, A\^hen I was almost assured That they were routed ; by a stratagem Of the subtile Turk, who opening his gross body

150 TIIF PICTURE.

And rallying up lii.s troops on cither side, I found nuselt" so far enoaocd, for I Must not conceal mycrrours, that I knew not AVhich \vd\ with honour to come ot^".

Kubit. I like A t>cncral that tells his faults, and is not Ambitious to enirross unto himself All honour, as some ha\'c, in which, with jubticc, They could not claim a share.

Fcrd. Being thus hemnrd in, Their scimitars raged among us; and, my horse Kill'd under nie, I every minute look'd for An honourable end, and that was all ]\ly hope could fashion to me : circled thus "With death and horrour, as one sent from heaven, This man of men, m ith somi' choice horse, that

follow'd His brave example, did pursue the track His sword cut for them, and, but that I see hm\ Already blush to hear what he, being present, I know would w ish unspoken, I should say, sir, ]>\' M'hat he did, w c bohllv mav believe All that is MTit of Hector.

Math. General, Prav spare these strange hyj)crb()les.

Kuhu. Do not bhisli To hear a truth ; here are a j)air of monsieurs, Had they i)een inyourj)lace, would have run away, And ne'er changed countenance.

I'haUL \\v have your good word still.

Kuhu. And shall, while you dcscr\c it.

Ladi-s. Silence ; on.

/<■/•(/ He, as I said, like dreadful lightning 1 lirow u I'rom .IiipitiTs shii'ld, dispeisrd the aimed girc AVith which I was environed; horse and man

THE PICTURE. 151

Shrunk under his strong arm : more, -svith his

looks* Frig-htecl, the valiant fled, with which encouraged, My soldiers, (like young eaglets preying under The wings of their fierce dam,) as if from him They took both spirit and fire, bravely came on. By him I was remounted, and inspired With treble courage ; and such as fled before Boldly made head again; and, to confirm them, It suddenly was apparent, that the fortune Of the day was ours; each soldier and commander Perform'd his part ; but this was the great wheel* By which the lesser moved ; and all rewards And signs of honour, as the civick garland. The mural wreath, the enemy's prime horse, With the general's sword, and armour, (the old

honours With which the Romans crown'd their several

leaders, ) To him alone are proper. Ladis. And they shall Deservedly fall on him. Sit ; 'tis our pleasure. Ferd. Which I must serve, not argue.

- — ' more, loith his looks &c.^ i. c. yet

more, further, &c.

^ but this was the great wheel Sec] This

is the third or fourth time we have had this expression. It is certainly no felony for a man to steal from himself, but it is nevertheless a very awkward way of relieving his necessities. It is surprising how seldom these repetitions occur in Shakspcare. When we consider how much he wi'otc, the exuberance of his^ resources will appear truly wonderful.

Massingcr seems to be indebted to Daniel for the original idea :

" For this great motion of a state, we see,

" Doth turne on many wheels ; and some, though smallg " Do yet the greater move, who in degree

" Stirre those who likewise turnc the grcat'st of all."

Philofas.

132 THE PICTURE.

Hon. You are a stranger, But, ill your service for the king, a native. And, though a free (|ueen, 1 am bound in duty To cherisli virtue wheresoe'er I find it: This place is yours.

Math It M'ere presumption in me To sit so near you.

Hon. Not liaving our warrant,

Ladis. Let the maskers enter : by the prepa- ration, 'Tis a French brawl, an apisli imitation Of wliat you really perform in battle: And Pallas, bound up in a little' volume, Apollo, with his lute, attending on lier, Serve for tlie induction.

Enter Ma.skers, Apollo with his lute, and Pa llas :

A Dance : after which, a Song* in praise o/ the

victorious soldier.

Our thanks, to all. To the banquet that's prepared to entertain tliem : — [Exeunt jMaskers, Apollo, and Pallas, Wliat would my best llonoria.'-

Hon. ^lay it please My king, that I, wlio, by his suflVage, ever Have liad ))()wer to command, may now entreat An honour from him.

Ladis. Wliy should you desire

7 And Pa/las^ hound up in a little* volume.,] Sop Vol. I. |i. IG'.i

' 1 don't think Massiugcr ('xrcls in writinj^ son^s ; (licri" are none to he lonnd in Uii'sc |)l.i\s that have any drgii-c of nu-iit, and few that arc even inttllij^ihlc. M. .M \son.

'I'll!-, son}!, which is ovidcnll) iiu onipli'lc, I have rrnioMd (o the end of the |)Iay. Troni the stage direetion, it would seem as if flu- eare of flicse things had been left to the performer-. Just bifore (p. 1 J'j) wi- have " a sonj; in praise of war ;"' and, lu the following act; another, '* on pleasure."

THE PICTURE. 153

What is your own ? whate'er it be, you are The mistress of it.

Hon, I am happy in Your grant : my suit, sir, is, that your com- manders, Especially this stranger, may, as I In my discretion shall think good, receive What's due to their deserts.

Ladis. What you determine Shall know no alteration.

Eiibu. The soldier Is like to have good usage, when he depends Upon her pleasure ! Are all the men so bad, That, to give satisfaction, we must have A woman treasurer ? Heaven help all !

Hon. With you, sir, [To Mathias.

I will begin, and, as in my esteem You are most eminent, expect to have What's fit for me to give, and you to take. The favour in the quick dispatch being double, Go fetch my casket, and with speed.

\_Eiit Acanthe.

Eubu. The kino'dom , Is very bare of money, when rewards Issue from the queen's jewel-house. Give him

gold And store,' no question the gentleman wants it. Good madam, what shall he do with a hoop ring, And a spark of diamond in it ? though you take it,

B-c- enter Acanthe with a Casket.

For the greater honour, from your majesty's finger.

Give hhn gold

And store^'] This expression, which is taken from an old Iballadj frequently occurs in these plays.

15-i. THE PICTURE.

'Twill not increase tlic value. lie must pur- chase Rich suits, the gay caparison of courtship,* Revel and feast, wliich, the war ended, is A soldier's glory ; and 'tis fit that way Your bounty should provide for him.

lion. You are rude, And by your narrow thonghts proportion mine. "What 1 will do now shall be worth the envy Of Cleopatra. Open it; see here

[JIoi]oria descentlsfrom the state. The^ lapidary's idol ! Gold is trash, And a poor salary fit for grooms ; wear these As studded stars in your armour, and make the

sun Look dim with jealousy of a greater light Than his beams gild the day M'ith : M-hen it is Exposed to view, call it llonoria's gift, The (jueen llonoria's gift, that loves a soldier; And, to give ornament and lustre to him.

' He must purchase

Hick suits., the gaij comparison of court. ship, ^ So it is printed in the old copy : the modern editors have reforniod the spelling, and if may be (hey have done well : yet tin* uord (x rnrs so frequently in our old dramatists, that 1 have many doubts on the subject.

In the Double Falsehood, a play which Theobald attribiitid to Shak«i)eare, l)ut Avhich I'ope, and his little knot ot" criticks, (without seeing the honour they did iiiuij) alVeeted to believe his own, arc these pretty lines:

" I must stoop to jrain her,

" Throw all my gay comparisons aside, *' And turn ni) proud additions out of service." Comparisons (hey changed, with great exultation over poor Theobald, into caparisons; but had they knywu, or eould he have iulormed them, that the word was so spelt by e>er\ author of that age, it might, perhaps, have moderated (he excess of their triumiili. Cotnlship, which is found in the same line. sig. nilies (lit cosi and niagniljceucc of ii comt.

THE PICTURE. 155

Parts freely with her own ! Yet, not to take From tlie magnificence of the king, I will Dispense his bounty too, but as a page To wait on mine; for other tosses,'^ take A hundred thousand crowns: — vour hand, dear sir, — [Takes off the khig's signet.

And this shall be thy warrant.

Eubu. I perceive I was cheated in this woman : now she is In the giving vein to soldiers, let her be proud, And the king dote, so she go on, I care not.

Hon. This done, our pleasure is, that all ar-

rearages

Be paid unto the captains, and their troops ; With a large donative, to increase their zeal For the service of the kingdom.

Eubu. Better still : Let men of arms be used thus, if they do not Charge desperately upon the cannon's mouth, Though the devil roar'd, and fight like dragons,

hang me ! Now they may drink sack ; but small beer, ^vith

a passport To beg with as they travel, and no money, Turns their red blood to buttermilk.

Hon. Are you pleased, sir. With what I have done ?

Ladis. Yes, and thus confirm it With this addition of mine own : You have, sir

for other tosses, take &c.] Moaning,

perhaps, in the slight manner in which she notices this part of her boujity, /o/- trash tojiing axcai/. Coxeter having negligently printed losses., observes on his own blunder, " this, I am apt (o think should be, for other uses take," and nothing more was wanted to induce Mr. M. Mason to thrust it into the text !

that all arrearages] This word,

3

I know not why, the modern editors discard for nrrcMs.

lo6 THE PICTURE.

From our loved queen received some recom- pense For your life hazarded in tlie late action ; And, that we may fallow her great example In cherishing valour, without limit ask A\'hat vou from us can wish.

Math. If it be true, Dread sir, as 'tis alHrm'ti, that every soil, ^V'here he is well, is to a valiant man His natural country, reason may assure me I should lix here, where blessings beyond hope, From you, the spring, like rivers. How unto me. If wealth were my ambition, by the iiueen I am made rich already, to the amazement Of all that see, or shall hereafter read The story of her bounty ; if to spenil The remnant of my life in dcetls of arms, No region is more fertile of good knights, From M'hom my knowledge that way may be

better'd, Than this your Marlike Hungary; if favour. Or grace in court could take me, by your grant, Far, far beyond my merit, I may make In yours a free election; but, alas f sir, I am not mine own, but by my destiny (Which I cannot resist) forced to ])refcr My country's smoke, before the gloriuus fire With which your bounties warm me. All I ask,

sir. Though I cannot be i2:norant it must relish Oi' foul iTigratitude, is your gracious license For my depart ure.

Ladi.s. Whither?

jMatli. To my own iiomc, .sir, My own jjoor home ; wiiich will, at my return, (irow rich l)y >onr majjfniliccnce. I am here HiiL a b(Hlv without u soul; and, till 1 lind it

THE PICTURE. 157

In the embraces of my constant wife, And, to set off that constancy, in her beauty And matchless excellencies without a rival, I am but half myself.

Hon. And is she then So chaste and fair as you infer:

i^latk. (), madam, Tliough it must argue weakness in a rich man, To shew his gold before an armed" thief, A.I ! I, in praising of mj/ wife, but feed The fire of lust in others to attempt her ; ' Such is my full-sail'd confidence in her virtue, Though in my absence she were now besieged By a strong army of lascivious wooers, And every one more expert in his art. Than those that tempted chaste Penelope; Though they raised batteries by prodigal gifts, By amorous letters, vows made for her service, With all the engines wanton appetite Could mount to shake the fortress of her ho- nour. Here, here is my assurance she holds out,

[Kisses the picture. And is impregnable.'

Hon. What's that ?

Math. Her fair figure.

Ladis. As I live, an excellent face !

Hon. You have seen a better.

Ladis. I ever except yours :" — nay, frown not, sweetest, The. Cyprian queen, compared to you, in my

'^ Ladis. I ev# except yours : — nmj,fro-wn not, sweetest,'] This liffe stands thus in the modern editions :

Ladis. 1! ne'er, except yours ; fiai/, frown not, sweetest ; which is the perfection of taste and hanaony : the old copy read? as I have given it.

]5S THE PICTURE.

Opinion, is a negro. As you order'd, I"ll see the soldiers paid ; and, in my a])sence, Pray you use your powerful arguments, to stay This <rentleman in our service.

Ilo)i. 1 will do ]\Iy parts.

Ladis. On to the camp,

[Ej'eniit Ladis/aits, Ferdinand, Eubulus, Bapti.sla, Captains, and others.

Hon. I am full of thoucifhts. And something there is here I must give form

Though yet an emhryon : you, signiors. Have no business with the soldier, as 1 take it, You are for other warfare ; (juit the place, But be within call.

Ric. Emj)loyment, on my life, ])oy !

Ubald. \^ it lie in our road, we are made for ever.

[I'lieunt L 'baldo and Rieardo.

Hon. You may ])ercei\-e the king is no way tainted With the disease of jealousy, since he lea\es mc Thus ])rivate with you.

Math. It were in him, madam, A sin unpardonable to distrust such purcness, Though I w ere an Adonis.

J Ion. I presume He neither does nor dares: and yet the storv Delivered of you by the general, A\'ilh \our heroick i-ourage, Mhich .sinks deeplv Into a knowing woman's heart, besides Y(jur promising presence, might beget some

scruple In a meanctr man ; but more of this heicafter. I'll take another ihenu' now, and conjure \<>u By the honours }ou have won, and by the love

THE PICTURE. io.9

Sacred to your dear wife, to answer truly To what I shall demand.

Math, You need not use Charms to this purpose, madam.

Hon. Tell me, then, Being yourself assured 'tis not in man To sully with one spot th' immaculate whiteness Of your wife's honour, if you have not, since The Gordian of your love was tied by marriage, Play'd false with her.^

Math. By the hopes of mercy, never,

Hon. It may be, not frequenting the con- verse Of handsome ladies, you were never tempted. And so your faith's untried yet.

Math. Surely, madam, I am no woman-hater ; I have been Received to the society of the best And fairest of our climate, and have met with No connnon entertainment, yet ne'er felt The least heat that way.

Hon. Strange ! and do you think still, The earth can shew no beauty that can drench In Lethe all remembrance of the favour You now bear to your own ?>

Math. Nature must find out Some other mould to fashion a new creature Fairer than her Pandora, ere I prove Guilty, or in my wishes or my thouahts, lo my bophia.

Hon. Sir, consider better; Not one in our whole sex ?

Math. I am constant to My resolution.

Hon. But dare you stand The opposition, and bind yourself By oath for the performance }

\60 THE PICTURE.

Mafh. ]\fy faith else Had but a weak foundation.

IIo?i. I take hold Upon your promise, and enjoin your stay For one month here.

Jllai/i. I am cauo:ht.

Ho77. And if I do not Produce a lady, in that time, that shall Make you confess your errour, I submit Myself to any penalty you shall please To impose upon me : in the mean space, \('rite To your chaste wife, acquaint her Mith your for- tune : The jewels that were mine you may send to her, For better confirmation : I'll provide you Of trusty messengers ; but how far distant is she ?

Math. A day's hard riding.

7/0;?. There is no retiring ril bind you to your word.

Math. Well, since there is No May to shnn it, I will stand the hazard. And instantly make ready my dispatch: Till then, Y\\ leave }Our majesty. [Edit.

Hon. How I burst With envy, tliat there lives, besides myself, One fair and loyal woman ! 'twas the end Of my ambition to be recorded The only wonder of" the age, and shall I Give May to a com|)('titor ? Nay nu)re, To add to my afllietion, the assurances That I ])lace(l in my beauty have deceived me; 1 thought one anu^rons glance of mine could briuLT All hearts to my subjection; but this stranger, Unmoved as rocks, contemns mc. Hut 1 cannot Sit down so with mine honour: I will iraiii A double victory, by working him To my desire, and taint her in her honour,

'O '

THE PICTURE. l6\

Or lose myself: I have read, that sometime poison Is useful. — To supplant her, I'll employ With any cost Ubaldo, and Ricardo, ' Two noted courtiers, of approved cunning In all the windings of lust's labyrinth; And in corrupting him, I will outgo Nero's Poppaea ; if he shut his ears Against my Syren notes, I'll boldly swear Ulysses lives again; or that I have found A frozen cynick,* cold in spite of all Allurements ; one whom beauty cannot move, Nor softest blandishments entice to love. \_Ejcit,

ACT III. SCENE I.

Bohemia. A Space near the Entrance o/'Mathias'

House.

Enter Hilario, with a pitcher of water, and awallet„

Hil. Thin, thin provision ! I am dieted Like one set to watch hawks ; and, to keep me

waking, My croaking guts make a perpetual larum. Here I stand centinel ; and, though I fright Beggars from my lady's gate, in hope to have

or that I hate found

A frozen cynick, &c.] I doubt whether the queen was well read in the characteristicksof the different sects. The cynicks wanted little allurement ; the modestest of them would have met her advances more than half way : but perhaps her majesty meant to say Stoick. This lady is of a most unaraiable character. Her vanity, which she mistakes for ambition, is excessive; and her eagerness to gratify it, detestable in the extreme. She is cha»t« Irom temperamentj but licentious from indulgence. VOL. III. M

162 THE PICTURE.

A greater share, I find my commons mend not. I look'd this morning in my ghiss, the river, And there appcar'd a iish caiTd a poor Jolin,* Cnt with a ienten face, in my own likeness ; And it seem'd to speak, and say, Good-morro\\%

cousin ! No man comes tliis way ])ut has a fling at me : A surgeon passing Ijy, ask'd at wliat rate I would sell myself; I answer'd, For wluit use? To make, said he, a living anatomy. And set thee up in our hall, for thou art trans- parent Without dissection; and, indeed, he h;ul reason; For I am scour'd with this poor purge' to nothing. They say that hunger dwells in the camp ; hut till ]\Iy lord returns, or certain tidings of him, He M'ill not part with me : — hut sorrow's dry, And I must drnik howsoever.

E/itcrV BALVO, RiCAiiDO, (Uid a Gnidc.

Guide. That's her castle, Upon my certain knowledge.

Ubald. Our horses held out To my desire. I am afire to he at it.

7iL/6'. Take the jades for thy reward ; hefore 1 part hence, I hope to he better carried. Give mc the cabinet : So ; leave us now.

Guide. Good fortune to you, gallants ! [I'lrit.

* a fish call'd a poor Jolin,] i. e. dried

hake. See \'ul. II. p. 1*24. It occurs a';uin in thr Cuardicin : " Or live, like a Carl Indian, on jmor .luhn."'

7 JFbr / am scour'd -wttli this juwr purine to tiot^uiig.} So thf old copies; the inodtrii «'<lilors. read, with t/iia poor porridf;o : hut wlictlicr out t»l dtlicacy, ov to iiDprovc the nictrf, I cauiiot my.

' THE PICTURE. 1^3

Ubald. Being* joint agents, in a design of trust too, For the service of the queen, and our own pleasure. Let us proceed with iudL>ment.

Ric. If I take not This fort at the first assault, make me an eunuch, So I may have precedence.

Uhald. On no terms. We are both to play one prize ; he that works best In the searching of this mine, shall carry it Without contention.

Ric. Make you your approaches As I directed.

Ubald. I need no instruction ; I work not on your anvil. I'll give fire With mine own linstock ; if the powder be dank, The devil rend the touch-hole ! Who have we

here ? What skeleton's this ? ,

Ric. A ghost ! or the image of famine ! Where dost thou dwell ?

Hil. Dwell, sir ! my dwelling is In the highway : that goodly house was once My habitation, but I am banish'd. And cannot be call'd home till news arrive. Of the good knight jMathias.

Ric. If that will Restore thee, thou art safe.

Ubald. We come from him, With presents to his lady.

Hil. But, are you sure He is in health ?

Ric. Never so well : conduct us To the lady.

Hil. Though a poor snake, I will leap Out of my skin for joy. Break, pitcher, break! And wallet, late my cupboard, I bequeath thee

M2

164 THE PICTURE.

To tlie next beggar; thou, red herring, swim To tlic Keel Sea again : methinks I am already Knuckle deep in tlie fleshpots; and, thougli

waking, dream Of wine and plenty !

J\ic. ^V hat's the mystery Of this strange passion ?

Nil. My belly, gentlemen, Will not give me leave to tell you; when I have

brought you To my lady"s presence, I am disenchanted : There you shall know all. Follow; if I outstrip

you, Know I run for my belly.

UOal. A mad fellow. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

yl Room in IMathias' House. Enter Sophia and Corisca.

Soph. Do not again delude mc.

Cor is. If I do, Send me agrazing witli my fellow Ililario.' I stood, as you connnandcd, in the turret, Observing all that pass'd by; and even now 1 did discern a pair of cavaliers. Tor such their outside spoke them, witii their

guide, Dismounting from their horses; they said somc- tliing

" Send )nf a grazing uitli wy IVllow lli/ana.] i. c. niv U-llow- flcrraut. Even this simple t■xpr('s^ion camiot escape the ever- inrdiiliii^ ilclicacy ol Mr. *M. Ma^uu: he alters it to — my itlcud Jlilui io f

THE PICTURE. i65

To our hungry centinel, that made him caper And frisk in the air for joy : and, to confirm this, See, madam, they're in view.

E92ter KiLARio^ Ubaldo, «/?^ Ricardo.

Hi/. News from my lord ! Tidings of joy ! these are no counterfeits, But knights indeed. Dear madam, sign my pardon, That I may feed again, and pick up my crumbs ; I have had a long fast of it.

Soph. Eat, I forgive thee.

Hil. O comfortable words ! Eat, I forgive thee! And if in this I do not soon obey you, And ram in to the purpose, billet me again In the highway. Butler and cook, be ready. For I enter like a tyrant. [Eji'it.

Ubal. Since mine eyes Were never happy in so sweet an object, AYithout inquiry, I presume you are The lady of the house, and so salute you.'

Ric. This letter, with these jewels, from your lord. Warrant my boldness, madam.

[Delivers a letter and a casket.

Ubal. In being a servant To such rare beauty, j^ou must needs deserve This courtesy from a stranger. [Salutes Corisca.

Ric. You are still Beforehand with me. Pretty one, I descend

" The lady of the house, and 'io salute you.'\ i.e. as such : Mr. M. Mason, not satisfied with this, reforms the text, and prints — and do salute you. The reader cannot be more weary of these eternal corrections, than myself. I lament that it is necessary, for both our sakos, to notice a certain portion of them in this way, (all, is impossible,) lest I should be suspected of caprici- ously deviating from the text of my predecessors.

166 THE PICTURE.

To take the height of your lip; and, if I miss

In the altitude, herei^tter, if you please,

I will make use of my Jacob's staff. [Saluti^sCorisca.

Coris. These gentlemen Have certainly had good breeding, as it appears By their neat kissing, they hie me so pat on the

lips At the first sight.

[In the intej^hn, Sophia reads the letter, and opens the casket.

Soph. Heaven, in thy mercy, make me Thy thankful handmaid for this boundless bles- sing, In thy goodness shower'd upon me !

Ubal. I do not like This simple devotion in her; it is seldom Practised among my mistresses.

Ric. Or mine. Would they kneel to I know not who, for the

possession Of such inestimal)Ie wealth, before They thank'd the bringers of it? the poor lady Does want instruction, but I'll be her tutor, And read her another lesson.

Soph. If I have Shewn want of manners, gentlemen, in my

slowness To pay the thanks I owe you for your travail, To do my lord and me, howe'er unworthy Of such a benefit, thi^ noble favour, Tm[nit(' it, in your cleinency, to the excess Of joy that overwhelnfd me.

Ric. Slu! speaks well.

( Oti/. J'olite and courtlv.

Sdji//. And liowcfi^ ]{ may Incicase the oIIimuc, to trouble you A\ith more Demands touching my lord, beldre 1 ha\ e

THE PICTURE. l67

Invited you to taste such as the coarseness Of my poor house can offer; pray you connive On my weak tenderness, though I entreat To learn from you something he hath, it may be, In his letter left unmention'd.

Ric. I can only Give you assurance that he is in health, Graced by the king and queen.

Ubal. And in the court With admiration look'd on.

Ric. You must therefore Put off these widow's garments, and appear Like to yourself.

Ubal. And entertain all pleasures Your fortune marks out for you.

Ric. There are other Particular privacies, which on occasion. I will deliver to you.

Soph. You oblige me To your service ever.

Ric. Good! youy^ service ; mark that.

Soph. In the mean time, by your good accept- ance make My rustick entertainment relish of The curiousness of the court.

Ubal. Your looks, sweet madam, Cannot but make each dish a feast.

Sopii. It shall be Sucli, in th« freedom of my will to please you. I'll shew you the way : this is too great an honour, From such brave guests, to me so mean an hostess.

[Exeunt,

168 THE PICTURE.

SCENE III.

Hungary. An Ouier-roo}?i in the Palace.

Enter Ac ax the, and four or Jive Servants in

visors.*

Acan. You know your charge; give it action, and expect Rewards beyond your hopes.

1 Serv. If we but eye them, They are ours, I warrant you.

2 Serv. May we not ask why We are put upon tliis ?

Acan. Let that stop your mouth ;

[Gives them monei/. And learn more manners, groom. "Tis upon the

liour In Mliich they use to ^\■a1k here: wlicn you liave

them In } our power, with violence carry them to the

place Where I appointed; there I will expect you : Be bold and and careful. [Exit,

Enter Math i as and Baptista.

1 Serv. These are they.

9. Serv. Are you sure ?

1 Sei'v. Am 1 sure I am myself?

' r.nter Acanthe, nnd four or five Servants in visors.^ Tlio oUI

sta^^e iliroctioii is. Enter Acaiithc^ tvio^finir or fiir xiith xiiurds ;

i.e. sncli ^ miinl)cr as the stauc rotild coiivfuiciitlv supply. Tin;

•nlitors ii<)( scciiii; this, have priiittd, /'///(/• Acaiitlir to Jour or

Jncki. l)ut tliib ik wrong, lor they all appear togctkor.

THE PICTURE. 169

2 Serv. Seize on him strongly; if he have but means .,

To draw his sword, 'tis ten to one we smart for't: Take all advantages.

Math. I cannot guess What her intents are ; but her carriage was As I but now related.

Bapt. Your assurance In the constancy of your lady is the annour That must defend you. Where's the picture ?

Math. Here, And no way aiter'd.

Bapt. If she be not perfect, There is no truth in art. Math. By this, I hope. She hath received my letters.

Bapt. Without question : These courtiers are rank riders, when they are To visit a handsome lady.

Math. Lend me your ear. One piece of her entertainment will require Your dearest privacy.

1 Serv. Now they stand fair; Upon them. ' ["^h^i/ 7mshfoi^ard,

Math. Villains !

1 Serv. Stop their mouths. We come not To try your valours : kill him, if he offer To ope his mouth. We have you : 'tis in vain To make resistance. Mount them, and away.

\E.vcunt with Mathias and Baptuta.

170 THE PICTURE.

SCENE IV.

An Inner-room in the same.

Enter Servants with Hgh(.% Ladislaus, Ferdi- nand, and EuBiTLus.

Ladis. 'Tis late. Go to your rest; but do not envy The happiness I draw near to.

Eubu. It" you enjoy it The moderate way, the sport yiehls, I confess, A pretty titillation; Init too much ot""t Will bring you on your knees. In my younger

days I was myself a gamester; and I fountl By sad experience, there is no sucli soaker As a young spongy wife; she keeps a thousand Ilorse-leeches iu her box, and the tliievcs Mill

suck out Both blood and marrow! I feel a kind of cramp In my joints, wlien I think on't: but it may be

(]ueens, And such a (picen as yours is, has the art '

Fcrd. You take leave To talk, mv lord.

Ladis. He may, since he can do notliing.

Kubu. If you spend this way too nuicb of your royal stock, Ere long we may be puefellows.

Ladis. The door shut ! Knock gently; harder. So,licrc comes her woman. Take off my gown.

THE PICTURE. 171

Enter AcANTHE.

Acan. My lord, the queen by me This night desires your pardon.

Ladia. How, Acantlie ! I come by her appointment ; 'twas her grant ; The motion was her own.

Acan. It may be, sir ; But by her doctors she is since advised, For her health's sake, to forbear.

Eubu, I do not like This physical ietchery, the old downright way Is worth a thousand on't.

Ludis. Prithee, Acanthe, Mediate for me.

Eubu. O tlie fiends of hell ! Would any man bribe his servant, to make way To his own wife ? if this be the court state, Shame fall on such as use it !

Acan. By this jewel. This night I dare not move her, but to morrow I will watch all occasions.

Ladis. Take thi^, To be mindful of me. {Exit Acanthe.

Eubu. 'Slight, I thought a king Might have ta'en up any M^oman at the king's

price. And must he buy his own, at a dearer rate Than a stranger in a brothel ?

Ladis. What is that You mutter, sir?

Eubu. No treason to your honour : I'll speak it out, though it anger you; if you

pay for Your lawful pleasure in some kind, great sir, What do you make the queen? cannot you clicket

17i2 THE PICTURE.

Without a fee, or when she lias a suit For you to g-rant ?

Fcrd. O hold, sir !

Ladis. OtF with his head !

Kubii. Do, when you please; you but blow out a taper That would light your understanding, and, in care

oft, Is burnt down to the socket. Be as you are, sir, An absolute monarch: it did shew more king-like In those libidinous Caesars, that compelTd Matrons and yiigins of all ranks to l)OU' Unto their ravenous lusts ; and did admit Of more excuse than I can urjve for you, That slaye yourself to the imperious humour Of a proud beauty.

Ladis. Out of my sight !

Eiibu. I will, sir, Give way toyourfuriouspassion ; jjut when reason Hath got the better of it, I much hope The counsel that oflVnds now will deserve Your royal thanks. Tran(piillity of mind

Stay with you, sir! 1 {{o begin to doubt

There's something- more in the queen's strange- ness than Is yet disclosed ; and I Mill find it out, Or lose myself in the search. [^E.rit.

Fcrd. Si!i(" he is honest, And from your infancy luith truly served you : Let that plead for him; and impute this harshness To the iVowardnes.s of his age.

Ladis. I am much trouijlcd, And do begin to stagger, l-'crdlnand, good night ! To morrow visit us. Ijack to our own lodgings.

THE PICTURE. 175

SCENE V.

Another Room in the same.

Enter Acanthe and the Disorcd Servants, with Mathias a?2d Battista blindfolded.

Acan. You have done bravely. Lock this in that room, There let him ruminate; I'll anon unhood him:

{They carry off Baptista. The other must stay here. As soon as I Have quit the place, give him the liberty And use of his eyes; that done, disperse your- selves ^^ As privately as you can: but, on your lives, No word of what hath pass'd. [Exit.

1 Serv. If I do, sell My tongue to a tripe-wife. Come, unbind his

arms : You are now at your own disposure; and however We used you roughly, I hope you will find here Such entertainment as will give you cause To thank us for the service : and so I leave you.'

[Exeunt. Math. If I am in a prison, 'tis a neat one. What (Edipus can resolve this riddle ? Ha ! I never gave just cause to any man Basely to plot against my life : — but what is Become of my true friend ? for him I suffer More than myself.

Acan. [xcithin.]^ Remove that idle fear ; He's safe as you are.

and so I leave yon.'] Thus the quarto :

the modern editors, but less properly, and so we leave you.

174. THE PICTURE.

Math AVliosoe'er thou art, For him I tliank tlicc. I cannot imagine Where I should be: though I liave read the tables Ot" errant-kniii'hthood, stuff'd with the relations Of magical enchantments; yet I am not So sottishly credulous to believe the devil Hath tlrat way power. [^Mu^ick above. ']\l^\ musick!

The blushing rose, and purple Jhner, Let grow too long, are .soonest blasted ;

Daintii fruits, though sweet, xcill sour. And rot i)i ripeness, left un tasted.

Yet here is one more sweet than these :

The more you taste the more shell please.

Beauty thal\s enclosed with ice,

Is a shadow chaste as rare ; Then hozv much those sweets entice,

That have issue full as fair ! Earth cannot yield from all her powers One equal J'or dame Venus' borvers.*

A song too! certainly, be it he or she

That owes this voice, it hath not been accjuainted

•* This soiii; pii(s mi' ill mind ofSwifCs lovc-song, " Cupid, spread (hy piiipU' pinions, *' Sweetly wavin<5 o'er my liead," kc. and scorns to have as little meaninii in it. M. Mason.

Truly there is " no great matter in the »iong," as the Clown says; yet it is not altogether so devoid of uieaning as that wliieh Mr. M. Mason has quoted \\illi >u(li laudable correctness; nor absolutely foreii^n to (he di^ii^ii in agitation. In the lirsl lini- of the second stanza, the editorN read tlmti^h tor that ; the \\ urd is misprinted in the quarto, and I have been reduced to guesii at it. The stage direction here is, Musick riboic, n sont^uf pUnstin : from which it seems that no song was originally provided by the author. Seep. 1 6'i. Indeed, it is a doubt v\ ilh me, v\ luther must of these tbinjjb were not su[)plied by the poet in waiting.

THE PICTURE. 175

With much affliction. Whosoe'er you are That do inhabit here, if you hav^e bodies, And are not mere aerial forms, appear,

Enter Honoria, masked.

And make me know your end with me. Most

strange ! What liave I conjured up ? sure, if this be A spirit, it is no damn.'d >■ ae. What a shape's here ! Then, v/itli what majesty it moves ! If Juno Were now to keep her state among the gods, And Hercules to be made again her guest. She cpuld not put on a more glorious habit, Tiiough her handmaid, Iris, lent her various

colours, Or old Ocean us ravish'd from the deep Ali jewels shipwreck'd in it. As you have Tiius far made known yourself, if that your face Have not too much divinity about it For mortal eyes to gaze on, perfect what You have begun, with wonder and amazement To my astonish'd senses. [Honoria unmasks.'] How ! the queen ! {Kneels.

Hon. Icise, sir, and hear my reasons, in defence Of tiie rape (for so you may conceive) which I, By my instruments, made upon you. You, perhaps, ;^Iay tlunk what you have suffer'd for my lust Is a common practice with me ; but I call Those ever-shining lamps, and their great Maker, As witnesses of my innocence: I ne'er look'd on A man but your best self, on whom I ever (Except the king) vouchsafed an eye of favour. Math. The king, indeed, and onl}^ such a king. Deserves your rarities, madam; and, but he,

176 THE PICTURE.

'Twere giant-like ambition in any,

In his wishes only, to presume to taste

The nectar of your kisses ; or to feed

His appetite witli that ambrosia, clue

And proper to a prince ; and, wliat binds more,

A lawful husband. For myself, great (jueen,

I am a thing obscure, disfurnislfd of

All merit, that can raise me higher than,

In my most humble thankfulness for your bounty,

To hazard my life for you ; and that way

I am most ambitious.

lion. I desire no more Than what you promise. If you dare expose Your life, as you ])rofess, to do me service. How can it better be employed than in Preservinir mine? whicli only vou can do. And must do, with the danger of your own; A desperate danger too ! If private men Can brook no rivals in what they afi'ect, liut to the death pursue such as invade AV'hat la\\- makes their inheritance ; the king, To whom you know 1 am dearer than his crown, His health, his eyes, his after hopes, with all His present blessings, must fall on that man, Like dreailful lightning, that is won by pra\ers, Threats, or rewards, to stain his bed, or nKikc His hoped-for issue doubtful !

MutJi. If you aim At what I more tban fear you do, the reasons ^V'hich you (U-li\er sbould, in judgiucnt, rather Deter me, than invite a grant, with my As^ure(l ruin.

lion. True ; if that you were Of a cold temper, one wiujiu doubt, oi- fear. In the juost horrid forms thev could |iut on, Might teach to be ingratcful. ^ our denial

THE PICTURE. 177

To me, that have deserved so much, is more, If it can liave addition.

Math. 1 know not What your commands are.

Hon. Have you fought so well Among arm'd men, yet cannot guess what lists You are to enter, when you are in private With a willing lady: one, that, to enjoy Your company this night, denied the king Access to what's his own ? If you will press me To speak in plainer language

Math. Pray you, forbear ; I would I did not understand too much ! Already, by your words, I am instructed To credit that, which, not confirm'd by you. Had bred suspicion in me of untruth, Though an angel had affirm'd it. But suppose That, cloy'd with happiness, which is ever built On virtuous chastity, in the wantonness Of appetite, you desire to make trial Of the false delights proposed by vicious lust ; Among ten thousand, every way more able And apter to he wrought on, such as owe you Obedience, being- your subjects, why should

Make choice ot me, a stranger ?

Hon. Though yet reason Was ne'er admitted in the court of love, I'll yield you one unanswerable. As I urged. In our last private* conference, you have A pretty promising presence ; but there are Many, in limbs and feature, who may take, That way, the right-hand tile of you : besides, Your May of youth is past, and the blood spent

♦ Tn our last private conference, you liaxe'\ Mr. M. Mason •mits private, thx)ugh absolutely necessary to the measure.

VOL. III. N

178 THE PICTURE.

By AV'oiiiuls/ though bravely t;ikcn, renders you Disabled for love's serviee : and that valour Set off with ])etter fortune, whieh, it may be, Swells vou above your bounds, is not the hook That liath eaught me, good sir. I need no

champion \\'ith his sword, to guard my honour or my beauty ; In both I can defend myself, and live My ouii ])roteetion.

Math. If these advocates. The best that can plead for me, have no power, "What can you iind in me else, that may tempt you, AVith irrecoverable loss unto yoursell", To be a gainer from me?

IIoiL You have, sir, A jewel of such matchless worth and lustre, As does disdain comparison, and darkens All tbat is rare in other men; and tliat 1 nuist or win or lessen.

JSlath. Vou heap more Amazement on me : What am I ])osscss'd of That you can covet? make me untler^.tand it, If it have a name.

Hon. Yes, an imagined one; But is, in suljstance, notbing; being a garment Worn out of fashion, and long since given o'er By the court and country : 'tis your loyalty And constancy to your wife; 'tis tbat 1 dote on. And does deserve my envy ; and tbat jewel. Or by fair play or loul, T must w in tVom you.

s and lite hlood s[)iMit

/.'j/ \\oiiml>, kc.\ Wo lum- ulrcaily li.ul llii?. coiiciit iu th( i^aiUantfiit uf Love :

'■ Tliuiii;Ii IioiioiiiM ill our manly xioiinds, will l.ikiMi,

'' Vou say tlic) do (Iflorm us, and tlir loss

*'• or inu( li liliiod (hat way, rfiidiT;. us uulit

** To please you in jour cliuiubcis." Act 1. si\ v.

THE PICTURE. 179

Mallu These are mere contraries. If you love me, madam, For my constancy, M^hy seek you to destroy it? In my keeping it preserve me Morth your favour.' Or, if it be a jewel of that value. As you with labour'd rhctorick would persuade

me, What can you stake against it?

Hon. A queen's fame, And equal honour.

JSIath. So, whoever M-ins, Both shall be losers.

Hon. That is that^ I aim at. Yet on the die I lay my youth, my beauty, This moist palm, this soft lip, and those delights Darkness should only judge of. Do you lind them Infectious in the trial, that you start, As frighted with their touch ?

Math. Is it in man To resist such strong temptations ?

Hon. He begins To waver.

Math. Madam, as you are gracious,

^ In my keeping if preserve me worth your favour.'] So the old cop), and surely rightly: " If you love me for ray constancy, why do you seek to destroy it ? Why not rather, in allowing me to keep it, suH'er me to remain a proper object of your kind- ness?" This seems to bs the drift of the argument. Coxeter not adverting to this, reads,

In my keeping, if preserves mc worth your favour ! And Mr. M. Mason, improving upon him, alters In to If re- moves the point, and runs the line into the next sentence :

If 7ny keeping it preserves me worth your favour,

Or., if it be &c. But where is Massinger all this while ?

' Hon. That is that / aim at.] Every where the modern editors labour to destroy all traces of the phraseology of Mas- singer's age. Thoy read^ T/tat is what I aim at.

N2

180 THE PICTURE.

Grant this sliort ni^lit's deliberation to me; And, witli tlie rising- sun, from me you shall Receive full satisfaction.

Hon. Though extremes Hate all delay, I will deny you nothing; This key ^vill bring you to your friend ; you are

safe both ; And all things useful that could be prepared For one I love and honour, wait upon you. Take counsel of your pillow, such a fortune As with affection's swiftest win2;s flies to vou, Will not be often tender'd. [^Esit.

Math. Wow my blood Rebels! I now could call her back — and yet There's something stays me: if the king had

tender'd Such favours to my wife, 'tis to be doubted They had not been refused : but, being a man, I should not yield first, or prove an example For her defence of frailty. By this, sans question, She's tempted too; and here I may examine

[Looks on the picture. How she holds out. She's still the same, the same Pure crystal rock of chastit\ . Perish all Allurements that may alter me ! The snow Of her SAveet coldness hath exlinguish'd (]uite The fire that but even now began to tlame : And 1 bv her confirm"d, — rewards nor titles, Nor certain death from the refused (jueen, Shall shake my faith; since I resolve to be Loyal to her, us she is true to me. [Edit.

THE PICTURE. 181

SCENE VI.'

Bohemia. A Room m Mathias' House. Enter Ubaldo and Ricardo.

Vbald. What we spake on the voley' begins to work ; We have laid a good foundation.

Ric. Buikl it up, Or else 'tis nothing : you have by lot the honour Of the first assault, but, as it is conditional. Observe the time proportiond : I'll not part with My share in the achievement ; when I whistle, Or hem, fall off.

Enter Sophia.

Uhald. She comes. Stand by, I'll A^atch My opportunity. [They walk aside.

Soph. I find myself Strangely distracted with the various stories. Now well, now ill, then doubtfully, by my guests Deliver'd of my lord : and, like poor beggars That in their dreams find treasure, by reflection Of a wounded fancy, make it questionable Whether they sleep or not; yet, tickled with

» SCENE VI.] Mr. M. Mason, deserting his old guide, does jiot make this a new scene ; though the change of place is from the palace of Ladislaus to the distant residence of Sophia'.

9 Ubald. What we spake on the voley] A literal translation o£. the French phrase a la rolce^ Avhich signifies at random, or incoU' siderately. M. Mason.

Thus in the Nexv Inn :

" you must not give credit

" To all that ladies publickly profess,

'' Or talk o' tke roley unto their siervaflti."

18i2 THE PICTURE.

Such a fantastick hope of happiness,

Wish they may never Avake. In some such measure,

Incredulous of wliat I sec and touch,

As 'twere a fading- apj)arition, I

Am s>till perplex \1, antl troubled ; and ^vhen most

Confirnfd 'tis true, a curious jealousy

To be assured, by what means, and from wliom.

Such a mass of wealth was iirst deserved, then

gotten. Cunningly steals into me. I have practised. For my certain resolution, with these courtiers, Promising- ])rivate conference to cither. And, at this hour : — if in search of the truth, I hear, or say, more than becomes my virtue, Forgive me, my Mat hi as.

Ubald. Now I make in. — [Comcsfoi^uard,

INIadam, as you commanded, I attend Your pleasure.

S()])l(. I must tliank you for the favour.

Ubald. 1 am no ghostly father; yet, if you liave Some scruples touching your lord, you would be

resolved of, 1 am prepared.

Suph. Jjut Mill you take your oatb. To ansM'cr truly ?

Ubald. On the lu;m of vour smock, if vou please . A vow 1 (hue not break, it being a book I would ghidiv sM'car on.

Snjjh. To s])are, sir, tbat trouble, 111 take your Mord, wliicb, in a gentleman,' Should be of e»|nal Aalnc. Is my lord, tluii, fn sneb grace \\ itb the (|iici'n :

L'bald. Von sboidd bc.\t knoNv, By M hat ^ on lia\ c I'onnd from him, w hether he can Deserve a' ii^race or no.

' Vanvc n 'f!;r(icc or uo.^ Tin- iinicli- i<i omiiti-d liv I)otIi (ho rditorSj lli<)iii;ii thi; metre is impcrrcct without if.

THE PICTURE. 183

Soph. Wliat grace do you mean ?

Ubald. That special grace, if you will have it, he Laboured so hard for between a pair of sheets, Upon your wedding night, when your ladyship Lost you know -what.

Sopli. Fie ! be more modest, Or I must leave you.

Ubald. I would tell a truth As cleanly as I could, and yet the subject Makes me run out a little.

Sopli. You would put, now, A foolish jealousy in my head, my lord Hath gotten a new mistress.

Ubald. One ! a hundred ; But under seal I speak it : I presume Upon your silence, it being for your profit. They talk of Hercules' fifty in a night,"* 'Twas well ; but yet to yours he was a piddler: Such a soldier and a courtier never came To Alba^ regalis ; the ladies run mad for him, And there is such contention among them, Who shall engross him wholly, that the like Was never heard of.

SopJi. Are they handsome women ?

Ubald. Fie ! no ; coarse mammets, and what's worse, they are old too. Some fifty, some threescore, and they pay dear

for't, Believing that he carries a poM'der in his breeches

* Thcii talk &c.] I have omitted two superfluous words, which appear evidently iutorpoiated, as they destroy at once the construction and the measure.

^ To Alba regalis ;] Mr. M. Mason reads Aula regalis. Why this change should be thought necessary, I cannot tell ; Alba regalis was no uncommon expression at the time ; and, indeed, it is used, by more than one writei'> f<^i' tl»c. English comt.

ISi THE PICTURE.

Will make tliem young again ; and tlicse suck shrewdly. Ric. \u'/iisf/es.] Sir, I must fetch you off. Ubald. I could tell you M'onders Of the cures he has done, but a business of import Calls me away ; but, that dispatch'd, 1 will Be with you presently. [IFa/ks aside.

SodIl There is somethin"; more In this than bare suspicion.

Ric. [coDicsfoj^waru.] Save you, ladv ; Now you look like yourself! I have not lonk'd

on A lady more complete, yet have seen a madam Wear a garment of this fashion, of the same stulf

too, One just of your dimensions : sat the Mind there, boy \ SopJi. What lady, sir? ]iic. Nay, nothing ; and methinks I should know this ruby : very good ! "tis the

same. This chain of orient pearl, and this diamond too, Have been Avorn before; but much good may they

do you ! Strength to the gentleman's ])ack ! he toiTd hard

f(jr them, Before he 2;ot them.

Soph. ^Vhy, how were they gotten ? Ric. Not in the held with his sword, upon my life, He may thank his close stiletto.* — [i'bahlo /ic/ns.j

— Plague upon it ! llun tlic miiuites so fast? — Pray you, excuse my

manners ; I Ictt a letter in mv chainlj'T window,

* III- incni tlKtiik his close s{\\o\{o.\ So tlii' old copy. Coxctor tn»l iMi. M. Mason read, his close blilltl too !

THE PICTURE. 185

Which I Avould not have seen on any terms ; fie

on it, Forgetful as I am ! hut Fll straight attend you.

[// alkt aside. Soph. This is strange, liis letters said these jewels were Presented him hy the queen, as a rewaid For his good service, and the trunks of clothes That followed them this last night, with haste

made up P>y his direction.

UbaUl [comes forward.'] I was telling you Of wonders, madam.

Sopli. If you are so skilful, Witlwut premeditation answer me ; Know you this gown, and these rich jewels?

Ubald. Heaven, How things will come out ! But that I should

offend you, And wrong my more than noble friend, your

husband, (For w'e are sworn brothers,) in the discovery Of his nearest secrets, I could — ■ —

Soph. By the hope of favour That you have from me, out with it.

Ubald. 'Tis a potent spell I cannot resist ; why I will tell you, madam. And to how many several women 3'ou are Beliolding for your bravery. This Avas The wedding gown of PauHna, a rich strumpet, Worn bat a day, when she married okl Gonzaga, And left off trading. Soph. O my heart ! Ubald, This chain Of pearl was a great widow's, that invited Your lord to a mask, and the weather provino; foul,

1S6 THE PICTURE.

He lodij-ed in licr house all nioht, and mcrrv tliev

were ; But liow he came l)y it, I know not. iSoph. Perjured nuui !

Ubald. This ring- was Julietta's, a fine piece. But very good at the sport : this diamond AVas madam Acantlie's, given him for a song Prick'd in a private arbour, as she said, When the queen ask'd for't ; and she heard him

sino- too, And danced to lits hornpipe, or tliere are liars

abroad. There are other toys about you the same May

purchased ; But, parallcird with these, not Avorth the relation. You are happy in a husband, never man ]\lade better use of his strenirth : would vou have

him waste His body away for nothing? if he holds out. There's not an embroidered j)etticoat in the court But shall be at your service.

Soph. 1 commentl him. It is a thrivins: trade: but prav vou leave nic A little to myself

Cbald. Y'ou may command Your servant, madam. — [ll'alks aside.] — She's stung unto the (piick, lad. JUc. I did my part; ii" this j)()tiou^ Moik not, hang me ! Let her slee[) as ^ell as .she can lo night, to

morrow We'll mount new batteries.

S if tlus potion u('/7i /J(»/,] Holli (111- «(li(()is

onni Jiot ion : but, indeed, iiolliini; can he niorr sliuinrriill\ piiiifcd than tin- whole ofdii^ sii'uc ; il 1 >aid tlic wholi' ul tlii-, pl.n. I fihonlil not Hron;; lli»* truth.

THE PICTURE. 187

Uhald. And till then leave her.

[E^veimt Ubaldo and Ricardo.

Soph. You Powers, that take into your care the guard Of innocence, aid me ! for I am a creature So forfeited to despair, hope cannot fancy A ransome to redeem me. I begin To waver in my faith, and make it doubtful. Whether the saints, that were canonized for Their holiness of life, sinn'd not in secret; Since my Mathias is fallen from his virtue In such an open fashion. Could it be, else, That such a husband, so devoted to me, So vow'd to temperance, for lascivious hire Should prostitute himself to common harlots ! Old and deform VJ too ! Was't for this he left me. And on a feign'd pretence for want of means To give me ornament ? — or to bring home Diseases to me ? Suppose these are false And lustful goats, if he were true and right. Why stays he so long from me, being made rich, And that the only reason why he left me? No, he is lost ; and shall I wear the spoils And salaries of lust ! they cleave unto me Like Nessus' poison'd shirt : no, in my rage I'll tear. them off, and from my body wash The venom with my tears. Have I no spleen. Nor anger of a woman ? shall he build Upon my ruins, and I, unrevenged, Deplore his falsehood? no; with the same trash For which he had dishonour'd me, I'll purchase A just revenge : I am not yet so much In debt to years, nor so mis-shaped, that all Should fly from my embraces : Chastity, Thou only art a name, and I renounce thee ! I am now a servant to voluptuousness. Wantons of all degrees and fashions, welcome !

18S THE PICTURE.

You sliall be cntertain'tl ; and, if I stray, Let him coiuleiiin himself, that led tlie M'ay.

ACT ir. SCENE I.

Hungary. A Boom in the Palace.

Enter !Matuias and Baptista.

Bapt. AVe are in a desperate .,)u"ait ; tliere's no evasion, Nor hope left to come off, but by your yielding To the necessity ; you must feign a grant To her violent passion, or

Math. What, my Haj)tista ?

liapt. AV'e are i)ut dead else.

jMath. Were the sword now heaved up, And my neck upon the block, I M'ould not buy An hour's reprieve with the ios.s of faith and

virtue, To be made immortal here. Art thou a scholar, Nay, almost without parallel, and yet fear To die, w hich is inevitable ! Vou may urge The n\any years that, by the course of nature, AV'e may travel in this tedious pilgrimage. And hold it as a blessing; as it is, When innocence is t)urguiile: yet know, Bap*

tista, Our virtues are preferrM before our years, J»y llie great Judge: to die untainted in Oiir iainc and ic[)utation is tiie greatest;

THE PICTURE. 189

Aud to lose that, can ^v^e desire to live?*

Oc shall I, for a momentary pleasure,

Which soon comes to a period, to all times

Have breach of faith and perjury remembered

In a still-living epitaph ? no, Baptista,

Since my Sophia will go to her grave

Unspotted in her faith, I'll follow her

With equal loyalty : — But look on this,

Your own great work,your niasterpiece,and then,

She beino- still the same, teach me to alter !

Ha ! sure I do not sleep ! or, if I dream, This is a terrible vision ! I will clear ^ My eyesight ; perhaps melancholy makes me See that which is not.

Bapt. It is too apparent. I grieve to look upon't ; besides the yellow. That docs assure she's tempted, there are lines Of a dark colour, that disperse themselves O'er every miniature of her face, and those

Confirm

Math. She is turn'd whore ! Bapt. I must not say so. Yet, as a friend to truth, if you will have me Interpret it, in he'r consent and wishes She's false, but not in fact yet.

Math. Fact, Baptista ! Make not yourself a pander to her looseness, In labouring to palliate what a visor Of impudence cannot cover. Did e'er woman In her will decline from chastity, but found means To give her hot lust fuel ?' It is more Impossible in nature for gross bodies,

^ And to lose that, can we desire to live ?] This is from Juvenal : Et propter vitam, vivcjidi perdcre causas. Sat. viii.

7 To give her hot lust fuel ?] This has been wantonly corrupted by the modem editors into — give lier hot lust full scope ? Metre ;iind §enj»e destroyed at a stroke I

190 THE PICTURE.

Descending ot" themselves, to liang in the air; Or M'ith my single arm to underprop A fallino- tower; nav, in its violent course To stop the lightning, than to stay a woman Hurried by tw o furies, lust and falsehood, In licr full career to wickedness !

Bapt. Pray you, temper The violence of your passion.

Alatli. In extremes Of this condition, can it be in man To use a moderation ? I am thrown Prom a steep rock headlong into a gulph Of misery, and lind myself past hope, In the same moment that I apprehend 'J'hat I am fallino; : and this, the liii-ure of My idol, few hours since, M'hile she continued In her perfection, that was late a mirror. In which I saw miraculous shapes of duty, Staid manners, with all excellency a husband Could wish in a chaste wife, is on the sudden Turn"(l to a magical glass, and does present Nothing hut horns and horrour.

li(f})t. "^ ou may yet, And "tis the best foundatioii, build uj) comfort On \ our own goodness.

JMatli. No, that hath undone nie ; Por now I hold my temperance a sin Worse than excess, and M'hat was vice, a virtue. Have I refused a <|ueeu, and such a (jueen, AVhose ravishing beauties at the first sight had

temj)te(l A hermit from his beads, and changed his |)r:iyers 'i'o amorous soniu.'ts, to preserve mv lailh Inviolate to thee, with the hazard of My death with torture, since she could iiiliict No less tor my conteuij)t ; and ha\c 1 met Such a return from ihcrl 1 uill not eursc thee.

THE PICTURE. 191

Kor, for thy falsehood, vail against the sex ; 'Tis poor, and comniou : FU only, with wise men, Whisper unto myself, however they seem, Nor present, nor past times, nor the age to come, Hath heretofore, can now, or ever sliall, Produce one constant woman.

ll(ipt. This is more Than the satirists wrote against them.

Math. There's no lano'uao-e That can express the poison of these aspicks, These weeping crocodiles, and all too little That hath heen said against them. But I'll mould My thoughts into another form ; and, if She can outlive the report of what I have done, This hand, when next she comes within my reach. Shall be her executioner.

Enter HoNORiA «;zr/ Acanthe.

Bapt. The queen, sir.

Hon. Wait our command at distance: — [Ejcit Acantlie.] — Sir, you too have Free liberty to depart.

Bapt. I know my manners, And thank you for the favour, {^Ej'iL

Hon. Have you taken Good rest in your new lodgings ? T expect now Your resolute answer; but advise maturely. Before I hear it.

Math. Let my actions, madam, For no words can dilate niy joy, in all You can command, Avith cheerfulness to serve

Assure your highness; and, in sign of my Submission and contrition for my errour. My lips, that but the last night slninn"d the touch Of yours us poison, taught humility now,

192 THE PICTURE.

Thus on voiir foot, and tliat too o-reat an honour For such an undeserver, seal my duty. A cloudy mist of ignorance, equal to Cimmerian darkness, would not let me see, then, What now, Mitli adoration and wonder, "With reverence I look up to : hut those fogs Dispersed and scattered hy the powerful l)eams '^\'ith which yourself, tlie sun of all perfection. Vouchsafe to curemy hlindness; likeasuppliant, As low as I can kneel, I hum hi v heg: "What you once pleased to tender.

Hon. This is more Than I could hope ! — What find you so attractive I'pon my face, in so short time to make This sudden metamorphosis? pray you, rise; I, for your late neglect, thus sign your pardon, Av, now vou kiss like a lover, and not as brothers Coldly salute their sisters.

JSIalh. 1 am turn'd All spirit and fire.

Ihni. Yet, to give some allay To this hot fervour, "tnere good to remcmher The king, whose eyes and ears are every wiiere; M'ith the danger too that follows, this discover'd.

Math. Danger! a bugbear, madam; let nu: ride once Like Phaeton in the chariot of your favour. And I contemn Jove's thunder: though the king. In our end)races stood a looker on, His hangman, and with studied crwelty, ready* To drag me from your arms, it should not fright

me From the enjoying that a single life is Too pool- ;i j)rice for. (), that now all vigour

■ Uif, /lOUf^MUii, ail ' u^ifh studied ciiu/ty^ rrndy \ J1im<' anain tlifsf ilt'riial I'lu iiiirs of (lir autlior'>> idioiii.ilirk i))lc read, /i'^ ltaii;^linin tuo, mtli itudial n ui^ti/, !kc. Ijci- p. IJJ.

THE PICTURE. 193

Of my youth M-ere re-collected for an hour, That my desire might meet A\^ith yours, and draw The envy of all men, in the encounter, Upon my head ! I should — but we lose time ; Be gracious, mighty queen.

IIo?i. Pause yet a little : The bounties of the king, and, what weighs more, Your boasted constancy to your matchless wife, Should not so soon be shaken.

Math. The whole fabrick, When I but look on you, is in a moment O'erturn'd and ruin'd; and, as rivers lose Their names when they are swallow'd by the

ocean. In you alone all faculties of my soul Are M holly taken up; my wife and king, At the best, as things forgotten.

Ho?i. Can this be ? I have gain'd my end now. [Aside.

Math. Wherefore stay you, madam ?

Hon. In my consideration what a nothing Man's constancy is.

Math. Your beauties make it so In me, sweet lady. '

Ho}L And it is my glory : I could be coy now, as you were, but I Am of a gentler temper; howsoever, And in a just return of what 1 have suffer'd In your disdain, M'ith the same measure grant me Equal deliberation: I ere long Will visit you again ; and when I next Appear, as conquer'd by it, slave-like wait On my triumphant beauty. [ETit

Math. What a chano-e Is here beyond my fear! but by thy falsehood, Sophia, not her beauty, is't denied me To sin but in my wishes? what a frown,

VOL. III. O

194 THE PICTURE.

In scorn, at her departure, she thre\r on me ! I am both ways lost; storms of contempt and

scorn Are ready to break on me, and all hope Of shelter doubtful: I can neitber be Disloyal, nor yet honest; I stand guilty On either part ; at the worst, Death will end all ; And he must be my judge to right my wrong, Since I have loved too much, and lived too long.

[E.vit.

SCENE II.

Bohemia. A Room in Mathias' House.

Enter Sophia, witJi a hook and a paper.

Sopli. Nor custom, nor example, nor vast num- bers Of such as do ofli'end, make less the sin. For each particular crime a strict account Will be exacted ; and that comfort M'hich Tbe damn'd pretend, fellows in misery, Takes nothing from tbcir torments: every one Must sutler in himself tbc measure of ills wickedness. If so, as 1 must grant, It being unrefutable in reason, Howe'er my lord otfcnd, it is no warrant For me to walk i)i his forbidden paths : \Vhat i)enancc then can cx])iate Uiy guilt, Vi)\' my consent (transjjortcd tlu-ii witli passion) To wantonni'ss ? liie winiuds 1 ai-'wv in\ fame Cannot recover bis; and, tbougli 1 have led These courtiers uiili promises and lK)j)es, 1 am \ et in ftut untainted, and I trust My sorrow for it, with ni\ |)nrity. And love to goodness lor itself, made powerful.

THE PICTURE. 195

Though all they have alleged prove true or false, Will be such exorcisms as shall conimaiid This Fury, jealousy, from me. What I have Determined touching them, I am resolved To put in execution. Within, there !

Enter HiLARio, Corisca, with other Servants.

Wliere are my noble guests ?

Hil. The elder, madam, Is driukiii'^,- by himself to your ladyship's healtli, In muskadine and eggs; and, for a rasher To draw his liquor down, he hath got a pie Of marrowbones, potatoes, and eringos, With many such ingredients; and 'tis said He hath sent his man in post to the next town, For a pound of ambergris, and half a peck Of fishes caird cantharides.

Cor is. The younger Prunes up himself, as if this night he were To act a bridegroom's part; but to what purpose, I am ignorance itself.

Soph. Continue so. [Gives the paper.

Let those lodgings be prepared as this directs you. And fail not in a circumstance, as you Respect my favour.

1 Serv. We have our instructions.

2 Serv. And punctually will follow them.

[Ei'eimt Sej'vants.

Enter Vbaldo.

Hil. Here comes, madam. The lord Ubaldo,

Ubuld. Pretty one, there's gold To buy thee a new gown, and there's for thee; Grow fat, and lit for service. I am now,

O 2

196 THE PICTURE.

As I should be, at the heiglit, and able to Beget a giant. O my better angel ! In this you shew your wisdom, when you ])ay The letcher in his own coin ; shall you sit puling, Like a Patient Grizzle, and be laughd at? no : This is a fair revenue. Shall we to't? Sopli. To what, sir ? Ubald. The sport you promised. Soph. Could it be done with safety? Vbald. I warrant you ; I am sound as a bell, a tough Old blade, and steel to the back, as you shall find

me In the trial on your anvil. Soph. So ; but hoM', sir, .Shall I satisfy your friend, to whom, by promise, I am equally engaged?

Ubald. I must confess,. The more the merrier; but, of all men living, Take heed of him; you may safer run upon The mouth of a cannon when it is unlading, And come olf colder.

Soph. How! is he not wholesome ? Ubald. Wholesome ! Til tell \ ou, for your good : he is A spittle of diseases,' and, indeed, ]More loathsome and infectious; the tub is His weekly bath: he hath not diank this seven

years. Before he came to your house, but comi)ositions Of sassafras and guaicum; and dry nuitton His daily portitju ; name m hat scratch socNcr

he is

.4 !y\nti\c of diseases.,] So flu- old copy: (.'oxctor and Mr. iM. Mason read, A i>\nUil of diitascs, m liich ib scarcely sciis>c. Sec t/ic ( 'ilij Muiidin.

THE PICTURE. 197

Can be got by women, and tlie surgeons will

resolve you, At this time or at that Ricardo had it.

Sopk. Ijless me from him !

Vbald. 'Tis a good prayer, lady. It being a degree unto the pox Only to mention him; if my tongue burn not,

hano- me, When I but name Ricardo.

iS'o^/?. Sir, this caution Must be rewarded.

UbalcL I hope I have marr'd his market.'

But when ?

Soph. Why, presently; follow my woman, She knows where to conduct you, and will serve To night for a page. Let the waistcoat I ap- pointed, With the cambrick shirt perfumed, and the rich

cap. Be brought into his chamber.

Uhald. Excellent lady ! And a caudle too in the morning,

Coris. I will fit you. \Extunt Ubaldo a?ulCorisca.

Enter Ricardo.

Soph, So hot on the scent ! Here comes the other beagle.

Ric. Take purse and all.

Hil. If this company would come often, I should make a pretty term on't.

Soph. For your sake I have put him off; he only begg'd a kiss, I gave it, and so parted.

Ric. I hope better ; He did not touch your lips ?

Soph. Yes, I assure you; There was no danger in it?

198 THE PICTURE.

Ric. No ! eat presently These lozenges of forty crowns an Ounce, Or you are undone.

Soph, ^^'llat is the virtue of them ?

J\/c. They are preservatives against stinking hreath, Rising from rotten lungs.

Sop/i. If so, your carriage Of such clear antidotes, in my opinion, ^fay render yours suspected.

Kic. Fie ! no ; 1 use tliem When I talk w ith him, I should be poison'd else. But I'll he free with you : he was once a creature, It may be, of God's making, but long since He is turn'd to a druggist's shop ; the spring and fall Hold all the year with him ; that he lives, he owes To art, not nature; she has given him o'ei'. He moves like the fairy king, on screws and \\ heels Made by his doctor's recipes, and yet still They are out of joint, and every day repairing. He has a regiment of whores he keeps At his own charge in a lazar-house, but the

best is, There's not a nose among them. He's acfjuaintcd ^\'ith the green water, and the sj)itting pill's Familiar to him: in a frosty morninij: You may thrust him in a pottle-pot; his bones Rattle in his skin, like beans toss'd in a bladder. If he but hear a couch, the fomentation, Ihe friction with fumigation, cannot save him From the chine-evil.' In a w<ird, he is Not one disease, but all ; yet, being my friend, I will forbear his ch.aracter, for 1 mduUI not Wrong him in your opinion.

* /Vfi/H /At cliinc'-cvil. j So (lie old r<)|)y : Coxctor .iiid Mr. M. Mason rt-ad, //cw/ <^u cliijucvil. \N liftln.T llwy umlcrstood

THE PICTURE. 199

Soph. The best is, The virtues you bestow on him, to me Are mysteries I know not; but, however, I am at your service. Sirrah, let it be your care To unclothe the gentleman, and with speed; delay Takes from delight.

lUc. Good ! there's my hat, sword, cloak : A vengeance on these buttons! oft' with my

doublet, I dare shew my skin ; in the touch you \\'\\\ like

it better. Prithee cut my codpiece-points, and, for this

service, When I leave them off^they are thine. Hit. I'll take your word, sir. Ric. Dear lady, stay not long. Soph. I may come too soon, sir. Ric. No, no, I am ready now. Hil. This is the way, sir.

[E.veunt Hilai'io mid Ricardo.

Soph. I was much to blame to credit their

reports

Touching my lord, that so traduce each other,

And with such virulent malice, though I presume

They are bad enough: but I have studied for

them A way for their recovery.

[^ noise, of clapping a door; Ubaldo appears above, in his shii^t.

it or not, I cannot say, nor is it indeed of much consequence. It would not be a matter of regret if every reader of this strong but indelicate humour could say with Sophia,

" The best is,

" The virtues you bestow on him, to me

" Are mysteries 1 know not;" The reciprocal criminations of the two courtiers is imitated with some humour by Cartwright in Luie'.s Convert^ Act IV^. sc. i. and by Cowley, but less successfullyj in the Guardian.

200 THE PICTURE.

Ubald. Wliat dost tboii mean, wench ? Why dost thou sliut tlic door upon mc? Ha ! My clothes are ta'en away too ! shall 1 starve here? Is this my lodging? I am sure the lady talk'd of A rich cap, a perfumed shirt, and a waistcoat; But here is notliing hut a little fresh straw, A petticoat for a coverlet, and that torn too, And an old woman's biggin for a nightcap.

Re-enter Couisca below.

'Slight, 'tis a prison, or a pigsty. Ha!

The windows grated with iron ! I cannot force

them, And if I leap down here, I break my neck: I am betray'd. Rogues! Villains! let me out; I am a lord, and that's no common title, And shall 1 he used thus?

Soph. Let him rave, he's fast ; I'll parley with him at leisure.

Ri c A K DO entering uidi a great noise above, a.^Jallcn.'^

Ric. Zounds! have you trapdoors ?

Soph. The other bird's i'the cage too, let him flutter.

Ric. Whither am I fallen ? into hell !

Ubald. V/ho makes that noise, there .'' Help me, if thou art a friend,

Ric. A friend ! 1 am wlicre I cannot hclj) myself; let me see thy face.

Ubald. How, Ricardo ! Prithee, throw me

' Ricardo niUring with a threat noise above, as fallen.^ So the old ropy. The iiKnltMii t'ditnrs road, with a prcat noise below. It is cvidcuf. luMM'vcr, f!i;it the prisoners witi- near carli of her, and so tiny ;irr ri'prrsnilcd in tiic old sforv. uhicli plari-s tliciii in hvo ((MitigiioHs chambers of the tower or keep of the rastlu.

THE PICTURE. 201

Thy cloak, if thou canst, to cover me ; I am almost Frozen to death.

Ric. My cloak ! I have no breeches ; I am in my shirt, as thou art ; and here's nothing For myself hut a clown's cast' suit.

Ubald. We are both undone. Prithee, roar a little — Madam !

Re-enter Hilario below, mRicARDo's clothes,

Ric. Lady of the house !

Ubald. Grooms of the chamber !

Ric. Gentlewomen! IMilkmaids !

Ubald. Shall we be murder'd ?

Soph. No, but soundly punish'd, To your deserts.

Ric. You are not in earnest, madam ?

Soph. Judge as you- find, and feel it; and now hear What I irrevocably purpose to you. Being received as guests into my house, And with all it afforded entertain'd. You have forgot all hospitable duties ; And, with the defemation of my lord. Wrought on my wom.an weakness, in revenge Of his injuries, as you fashion'd them to me, To yield my honour to your lawless lust.

Hil. Mark that, poor fellows.

Soph. And so far you have Transgress'd against the dignity of men. Who should, bound to it by virtue, still defend Chaste ladies' honours, that it was your trade

' and here's nothing

For myself, but a down^s cast suit.^ The caution of the modera editors is admirable : lest cast suit should not be intelligible, they alter it into cast off suit, at little more thao the expense of the metre !

202 THE PICTURE.

To make them infaiiioiis : but you are cauglit In your own toils, like lustful beasts, and therefore Hope not to find the usa<j;e of men from mc : Sucli mercy you have forfeited, and shall suiier Like the most shnish women. Vhald. How will you use us? Soph. Ease, and excess in feeding, made you wanton. A phirisy of ill blood you must let out, liy labour, and s|)are diet that way got too, Or perish for hunger. Reach him u|) that distaff With the flax uj)ou it ; though no Omphale, Nor you a second Hercules, as I take it, As you spin well at my conmiand, and please me, Your wages, in the coarsest bread and water, Shall be proportionable. Ubald. I will starve first. Soph. That's as you please. liic. \\'lKit \\ill become of mc now? Soph. You shall have gentler work ; I have oft observed You were j)roud to shew the fineness of your

liands, And softness of your lingers; you should reel

well "What he spins, if you give your mind to it, as

ril force you. Deliver him his maleiials. Now you know Your penance, fill to work; hunger will teach

you : And so, as slaves to your lust, not me, I leave you.

\Excuftl Sophia and Corif>L(L Vhald. I sliall spin a fine thread out now. R'lc. 1 cannot look r)n th( '^e dcNiccs, hut they put mc in mind Of rope-makers.

lid. I'ellow, think of thy task.

THE PICTURE. 203

Forget such vanities, my livery there Will serve thee to work in.

R'c. Let me have my clothes yet ; I was bountiful to thee.

HiL They are past your wearing, And mine by promise, as all these can witness. You have no holidays coming, nor will I work While these and this lasts; and so when you please You may shut up your shop windows. [E2it.

Ubald. I am faint, And must lie down.

Ric. I am hungry too, and cold. O cursed women !

Ubald. This comes of our whoring. But let us rest as well as we can to night, But not o'ersleep ourselves, lest we fast to morrow. [Exeu?it.

SCENE III.

Hungary. A Room in the Palace,

Enter Ladislaus, Honoria, Eubulus, Ferdi- nand, AcANTHE, and Attendants.

Hon. Now you know all, sir, with the motives why I forced him to my lodging.

Ladis. I desire No more such trials, lady.

Hon. I presume, sir, You do not doubt my chastity.

Ladis. I would not; But these are strange inducements.

Eubii. By no means, sir. Why, though he were with violence seized upon,

204 THE PICTURK

And still cletaiird ; the man, sir, beinsf no soldier. Nor used to charge his pike when the breach 5s

open, There Mas no danu:erin't ! You nuist conceive, sir, l]ein<>; relig-ious, she chose him tor a chaplain, To read old homilies to her in the dark ; She's bound to it by her canons.

Ladls. Still tormented "With thy impertinence !

Hon. By yourself, dear sir, I was ambitious oidy to overthrow His boasted constancy in his consent; But lor fact, 1 contemn him : I was never Unchaste in thought, I laboured to give proof What power dwells in this beauty you admire so; And when you see how soon it hath transformd

him, And with what superstition he adores it, Determine as you please.

Lad/.s. I will look on This pageant, but

JIo/i. W hen you have seen and heard, sir, The j)assages which I myself discover'd. And could have kept conceal'd, had I meant

basely, Judge as you please.

Jjidis. Well, I'll observe the issue.

Eubit. How had you ta'en this, general, in your wife ''

Fcrd. As a strange curiosity; but tpiecns Arc ])rivilcge(l above subjects, and 'tis fit, sir.

[Excimt.

THE PICTURE. 205

SCENE IV.

Another Room in the same.

E7iter Mathias and Baptista.

Bapt, You are much alter'd, sir, since the last night, When the queen left you, and look cheerfully, Your dulness quite blown over.

Math. I have seen a vision This morning makes it good,* and never was In such security as at this instant. Fall what can fall: and when the queen appears, Whose shortest absence now is tedious to me, Observe the encounter.

EnterYio^ORiA. Ladislaus, Eubulus, Ferdi- nand, and Ac A^TH.^, with others, appear above.

Bapt. She already is Enter'd the lists. <

Math. And I prepared to meet her.

Bapt. I know my dut}^

Hon. Not so, you may stay now, As a witness of our contract.

Bapt. I obey In all things, madam.

Hon. Where's that reverence, Or rather superstitious adoration, Which, captive-like, to my triumphant beauty

■* Math. / have seen a vision

This morning makes it good,^, Moaning that the picture had recovered its natural colour. Thia short scena is inimitably beautilul.

206 THE PICTURE.

You paid last night ? No humble knee, nor sigu Of vassal duty! Sure this is the toot To whose proud cover, and then happy in it, Your lips Mere glued; and that the neck then

offer'd, To Avitness your subjection, to be trod on : Your certain loss ot" lite in the kino-'s ansfcr Was then too mean a price to buy my favour; And that false glow-worm fire of constancy To your wife, extinguislfd bv a greater light Shot from our eyes; — and that, it may be, (being Too glorious to be look'd on,) hath deprived yuu Of speech and motion: but I will take off A little from the splendour, and descend Frommyownhei<2:ht, and in vour lowness hear vou Plead as a suppliant.

Math. I do remember I once saw such a woman. Hon. How ! Math. And then She did ap])ear a most magnificent queen, And, what's more, virtuous, though someM'hat

darkeu'd With piidc, and self-opinion. Eubu. Call you this courtship? Math. And she was happy in a royal husband^, Whom envN' could not tax, indess it were For his too much indulgence to her humours, Eubu. Pray you, Nir, observe that touch, 'tis to the j)urpose; I like the play the better for't.

Malh. And she lived Worthy her birth and fortune: \()U retain yet Some part other angelical form; but when Envy to the beauty of another wom.m, Inleriour to hers, one that .she never ll.id .':,cen, but in her picture, had dispersed

THE PICTURE. 207

Infection through her veins, and loyalty, Which a great queen, as she was, should have iiourish'd,

Grew odious to her

Hon. I am thunderstruck. Math. And lust, in all the bravery it could borrow From majesty, howe'er disguised, had ta'en Sure footing in the kingdom of her heart, The throne of chastity once, how, iu a moment. All that was gracious, great, and glorious in her, And won upon all hearts, like, seeming shadows Wanting true substance, vanish'd !

Hon. How his reasons Work on my soul !

Alatli. Retire into yourself; Your own strengths, madam, strongly manned

with virtue. And be but as you were, and there's no office So base, beneath the slavery that men Impose on beasts, but I will gladly bow to. But as you play and juggle with a stranger, Varying your shapes like Thetis, though the

beauties Of all that are by poets' raptures sainted* Were now in you united, you should pass Pitied by me, perhaps, but not regarded. Eiibii. If this take not, I am cheated, JMath. To slip once. Is incident, and excused by human frailty ; But to fall ever, damnable. We were both

s Of all that are by poets' raptures salntod] The modem edi- tors, trembling for the daring lljghts of Massinger, liave kindly brought him down to the ordinary level: they read,

OJ all that are by puef.s' rajttarcs painted ! The change is the more to be admired, as the old copy, to shew the espressian was a strong one, gave it with a capital letter.

208 THE PICTURE.

Guilty, I grant, in tendering our aflfection ; But, as I hope you will do, I repented. When M'e are grown up to ripeness, our life is Like to this ----- pieture."^ While we run A constant race in goodness, it retains The just proportion ; but the journey being Tedious, and sweet temptation in the way, That may in some degree divert us from The road that we put forth in, ere we end Our pilgrimage, it may, like this, turn yellow, Or be M'itli blackness clouded : but when we Find M'c have gone astray, and labour to Return unto our never-failing guide. Virtue, contrition, with unfeigned tears. The spots of vice wash'cl off, will soon restore

it To the first pureness.

JIo)L I am disenchanted : jVIercy, O mercy, heavens ! [Kjieeh:

Ladis. I am ravishVl With what I have seen and heard.

Fcrd. Let us descend, And hear the rest below.

Kubu. This hath fallen out Beyond my expectation. [^/'t'j/ retire.

llojL I low have I Mander'd Out of the track of piety ! and misled By overweening pride, and ilattery Of fawning sycophants, (the bane of greatness,) Could never meet till now a passenger, 'i'liat in his charity would set nu- right, Or stay mc in my j)rccij)icc to ruin. How ill have I rcturn'd your goodness to me !

* our life is

J.ikc to this - - - - - picture. \ A word has dnipf out at (lir press, or hcni omiltcd by flic traiis(ril)«'r. I coiilil wisli to iu- lert mut^ich, but leave it to the reader's ti>n'«idcr;itiou.

THE PICTURE. a09

The horrour, in my thought oft, turns me marble : But if it may be yet prevented

Re-enter Ladislaus, Eubulus, Ferdinand, Ac AN THE, mid others J below.

O sir, What can I rlo to shew my sorrow, or With what brow ask your pardon ?

Lad'is. Pray you, rise.

Hon. Never, till you forgive me, and receive Unto your love and favour a changed woman : My state and pride turn'd to humility, henceforth Miall wait on your commands, and my obedience Steer'd only by your will.

Ladis. And that will prove A second and a better marriage to me. All is forgotten.

Hon. Sir, I must not rise yet, Till, with a free confession of a crime Unknown to you yet, and a following suit, Which thus I beg, be granted.

Ladis. I melt with you : 'Tis pardon'd, and confirm'd thus. [Raises her.

Hon. Know then, sir, In malice to this good knight's wife, I practised Ubaldo and Ricardo to corrupt her.

Bapt. Thence grew the change of the picture,

Ho?t. And how far They have prevaiFd, I am ignorant : now, if you,

sir, Forthe honour of this good man, may be entreated To travel thither, it being but a day's journey, To fetch them off

Ladis. We will put on to night.

Bapt. I, if you please, your harbinger. Ladis. I thank you.

VOL. III. P

^10 THE PICTURE.

Let me embrace you in my arms ; your service Done on the Turk, compared witli this, weighs nothing".

Math. I am still your humble creature.

Ludis. Mv true friend.

Ferd. And so vou are bound to hold him.

*

Euhu. Such a j)hint Imported to your kingdom, and here grafted, A\'()uld yield more fruit than all the idle ^veeds That suck up your rain of favour.

Ladls. In my will ril not be wanting. Prepare for our journey. In act be my Ilonoria now, not name. And to all aftertimes preserve thy fame. \_Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.

Bohemia. A Hall in ?.lathias' House.

Enter '^ovwiA, Couisca, ^///^/ Hilar io.

Soph. Are tlic}' then so lunnble?

Hil. Hunger and hard labour Have tamed them, madam; at the' first tlicy

bellow'd Like stags ta'en in a tf)il, and M-ould not M'ork For suUenncss ; hut wlien tliey found, \\ith()ut it There was no eating, and that t(; starve to death Was mncli against tiicir stomachs; by degrees. Against their Mills, they fell to it.

al ihr Jint fJiti/ lifl/ini'il I | luivc restored

till' :iili( 1*'. V Iii, [j tomplcici the verse, from the old top) ,

THE PICTURE. ^^^

Cor is. And now feed on ^

The little pittance you allow, with gladness.

Ilil. I do remember that they stopp'd their noses At the sight of beef and mutton, as coarse feeding For their line palates ; but now, their work being

ended, They leap at a barley crust, and hold cheese-^

parings, "With a spoonful of palfd wine pour'd in their

water, For festival-exceedings.*

Coris. When I examine My spinster's work, he trembles like a prentice, And takes a box on the ear, when I spy faults And botches in his labour, as a favour From a curst mistress.

Hil. The other, too, reels well For his time ; and if your ladyship would please To see them for your sport, since they want

airing. It would do well, in my judgment; you shall hear Such a hungry dialogue from them !

Soph. But suppose, When they are out of prison, tliey should grow Rebellious ?

Hit. Never fear't ; I'll undertake To lead them out by the nose with a coarse thread Of the one's spinning, and make the other reel after,

' Porfcstival-excecdings.] " At the Middle Temple an addi- tional dish to the regular dinner is still called " exccedings ;" to which appellation Massingor alludes in the Picture, by the expression oi fcstival-cxcecdwgs : but his editor, Coxeter, not knowing the origin of the phrase, thinks ''' exceeding festivals had been better." IJocclivc's Puetns, by Mason, 4to. 1795, p. 67. P'or this extract I am indebted to Mr. Waldron, of the Theatre Royal, Drury-Lanc.

P P

212 THE PICTURE.

And M'ithout <rnunl)linir ; and vlien voii arc

■\vcary oF Their company, as easily return them.

Corls. Dear madam, it will help to drive away Your melancholy.

Soph, ^\'ell, on this assurance, I am content ; i)ring them hither.

////. I will do it " In stately ecpiipage. [/J./<V.

Sopk. They have confess'd, then, They were set on hy the (jueen, to taint me in My loyalty to my lord ?

Corls. 'TM'as the main cause That hroui>ht them hither.

Soph. I am glad I know it ; And as I have begun, hefore 1 end ril at the height revenge it ; let us step aside, They come : the object's so ridiculous. In spite of" my sad thouglits I cannot but Lend a forced smile to grace it.

Re-enter IIilaiuo, ni/h Ubaldo spinnirig;, and

lliCAKDO reeling.

lid. Come away : Work as you go, and lose no time, 'tis [)recious; You'll iind it in your com?nons.

Hie. Commons, call you it ! The Mord is j)ropcr ; I have grazed so long UlM)n your commons, I am almost starved here.

////. ^\'(l^k harder, and thev shall be better'd.

L bald. iJetter'd ! W'orser they c annot be : uoidd T might lie Like a dog under her table, and >cv\c t'or a t'oot-

.stool. So 1 might ha\e my belly full ol that Her Iceland cur retuses !

THE PICTURE. J13

Hil. How do you like Your airing ? is it not a favour ?

Ric. Yes ; Just such a one as you use to a brace of gray- hounds, When they are led out of their kennels to scumber; But our case is ten times harder, we have nothing In our bellies to be vented : if you will be An honest yeoman-fewterer,' feed us first, And walk us after.

////. Yeoman-fewterer ! Such another word to your governor, and you go Supperless to bed for't.

Ubald. Nay, even as you please; The comfortable names of breakfasts, dinners. Collations, supper, beverage, are words Worn out of our remembrance.

liic. O for the steam Of meat in a cook's shop !

Ubald. I am so dry, I have not spittle enough to wet my fingers When I draw my flax from my distaff.

Ric. Nor I strength To raise my hand to the top of my reeler. Oh ! I have the cramp all over me.

Hil. What do you think Were best to apply to it ? A cramp-stone, as I

take it, Were very useful.

' An honest yeoman-fewterer,] In this and the preceding speech the terms are borrowed from the kennel ; Jcwterer, a name which frequently occurs in our old treatises on hunting, was the person who took charge of the dogs, immediately under the huntsman. We now call him, I believe, the whipper-in.

Blount derives this word from the French vaultrc, which, as Cotgrave says, means a mongrel houud ; whence velturius, and laultar'mSf a huntsman.

214 THE PICTURE.

Bic. Oh ! no more of stones,* We liave been used too long like hawks already. Uhald. "\\'e are not so hi^-h in our flesh now to need castino- We will come to an emj>ty fist. . llil. Nay, that you shall not. So ho, birds !' — [Holds up a pkce of bread.] — How

tlu' eyasses scratch and scramble !

Take lieed of a surfeit, do not cast your gorges;

This is more than I have commission for; be

thankful.

Soplt. Mere all that study the abuse of women

Used thus, the city would not swarm witli

cuckolds, Nor so many tradesmen break. Coris. Pray you, appear now, And mark the alteration.

" Ric. Oh! no mure of stones, Wf have bicii ihscd too long like ha^^ ks alreadi/.

L'bald. He are not so high in our lli'sh now to wrfrf caslinjj, M'e -dill come to an iniptii fist.'] To uiuli'istaiul llii>. i( -vn ill be necessary to have recourse to (he treatises on the '• noble scu-nee of hawking." — '' When the hawk will come to the lure, then give her every night stones, till you find her stomach good : alter that, profor her casting, to make her cleanse and ijur-ze her gorge." '/7ir Gentleman's Recreation, p. 13.^.

Humanity has seldom obtained a greater triuniph than in the aholitiun of (his most execrable jiurs»u(, eominued (o which, cotklighting and bull-baiting are innocent amusemints : and this not so much on account of the name killed in the open field, as of the immense number of domcstick animals sacriliced to the instruction of the hawk. Tlu' bbiod runs cold whilv wo peruse the calm dijcctions of the brutal falconer, to impab', tic down, fasten by the bj-ak, br«'ak the legs and Miuiis of lining pigeons, hens, and sometimes herons, fctr (lie hourly e\iTci>e of the hawk, who was thus enabled lo pull (hem tu pieces without resistance.

■* S«) ho, bir(!> ! lion the eyasses scratch and scramble !] So ho, birds f Mas the falconer's call lo feed. An ei/ass, as I l«Mrn from the respectable au'hority (juoted abo\e, is a young hav k newly taken out of the ntstj and not able to prey fur himscll.

THE PICTURE, 215

Hil. To your work, My lady is in presence ; shew your duties : Exceeding' M'ell.

Soph. How do your scholars profit ?

Hil. Hold up your heads demurely. Prettily, For young beginners.

Cor'is. And will do well in time. If they be kept in awe.

Ric. In awe ! I am sure I quake like an aspen leaf.

Uhald, No mercy, lady?

Ric. Nor intermission ?

Soph. Let me see your work : Fie upon't, M-hat a thread's here ! a poor cobler's

wife Would make a finer to sew a clown's rent startup ; ' And here you reel as you were drunk.

Ric. I am sure It is not with wine.

Soph. O, take heed of wine ; Cold water is far better for your healths, Of which I am very tender: you had foul bodies, And must continue in this physical diet, Till the cause of your disease be ta'en away. For fear of a relapse ;' and that is dangerous : Yet I hope already that you are in some Degree recovered, and that way to resolve me, Answer me truly ; nay, what I propound Concerns both; nearer: what would younowgive,

^ a down's rent startup;] A startup,

Mr. M. Mason says, is part of a man's dress — so, indeed, is a bag-wig and sword. It appears, from many passages in our old writers, that a startup Avas a coarse kind of half-boot with thick soles ; the pcronc of the ancients : its use is now superseded by that of the modern spatterdash :

" Draw close into the covert, lest the wet,

" Which falls like lazy mists upon the ground,

*' Soke through your startups." The Faithful Shepherdess.

216 THE PICTURE.

If your means were in your liands, to lie all night With a fresh and handsome lady ?

L'baUL How! a lady - (), I am past it; hunger with lier razor liatli nuule me an eunueh.

Ric. For a mess of porridge, Well s()|)p'd with a i)uneh of radish and a carrot, I would sell my harony ; hut for women, oh ! No more of women : not a doit for a doxy, After this lumgry voyage.

Soph. These are truly Good syni|)toms ; let them not venture too much

in the air. Till they are weaker.*

Ric. This is tyranny.

Ubald. Scorn upon scorn.

Soph. Vou were so In your malicious intents to me.

Enter a Servant.

And tlierefore "tis hut justice \V'hat's the

business ? Serv, My lord's great iViend, signior liaptista, ma(hun, Is newly lighted from his horse, with certain Assurance of my lord's arrival.

Soph, llow ! And stand I trilling here' Hence with the mon- grels To their several kennel.s; there 'et them howl In

j)rivate ; ril he no turther trouhh-d.

[Ejcu/it Sophi/i (Did Servant.

♦ 'till thill (111- woaktT. i S(tptii.i slill .illtM In to ( oiisitlcr tlioiu as loo strong to In- (instrd ;il)ro.ul, loiisisti'iitly witli her safety: there ib luuch guud huruuiir and plea^utry iit thiii scene.

THE PICTURE. 217

Ubald. O that ever I saw this fury !

Ric. Or h)ok'd on a woman But as a ])rodigy in nature.

///"/. Silence ; No more of this.

Coris. Methinks you have no cause To repent your heing liere.

Hil. Have you not learnt, When your states are spent, your several trades

to live by. And never charge the hospital ?

Coris. Work but tightly, And we will not use a dish-clout in the house, But of your spinning.

Ubald, O, I would this hemp Were turn'd to a halter !

Hil. Will you march ?

Kic. A soft one, Good general, I beseech you.

Ubald. I can hardly Draw my legs after me.

Hil. For a crutch you may use Your distaiF; a good wit makes use of all things.

[Ei^eunt.

SCENE II.

Another Room in the same. Enter Sophia «w^/ Baptista.

Soph. Was he jealous of me . Bapt. There's no perfect love Without some touch oft, madam. Soph, Atid my picture,

21S THE PICTURE.

IMacIc l)y your devilisli art, a spy upon My actions? I ne'er sat to be drawn, Kor liacl you, sir, commission tor't.

Bapt. Excuse nic ; At ]iis earnest suit I did it.

Soph. Very s^-ood : — ^\'as I grown so cheap in liis opinion of me ?

Bapt. The prosperous events that crown his fortunes May (lualify tlie offence.

Sopli. Good, the events ! — Tlie sanctuary fools and madmen tly to, When their rash and desperate undertakings ^ thrive well :

But o'ood and wise men are directed by IGrave counsels, and witli such deliberation Proceed in their affairs, that chance has uotliing lTo do with them: howsoever, take the pains, sir, To meet the honour (in the king and queen's Approaches to my house) that I)reaks upon me; I Mill expect them with my best of care.

Bapt. To entertain such royal guests

Soph. I know it; Leave that to me, sir. [Kxit Bap/htu.] What

shoidd move the ([ueen, So given to ease and pleasure, as fame speaks lier, To such a iouriiCN' ! or work on mv lord To douljt my loyalty, nay, more, to take, For the resolution of Ids fears, a course That is by holy writ flenied a Christian ? 'Twas im[)ious in him, and prrhaj)^ the welcome lie hopes in my embraces, may (leceivi*

['J'runipcta .somidL<l. His expectation. The trumpets sj)eak The king's arrival: iielp, a Moman's \\ it now, To make liim kjiow his fault, and my ju.>t anger!

[kiit.

THE PICTURE. 219

SCENE III.

The Sa77ie

A Flourish. Enter Lad is la us, Ferdinand, EuBULus, Mathias, Baptista, IJonoria, ^;2r/ AcANTHE, with Attendants.

Euba. Your majesty must be weary.

Hon. No, my lord, A willing mind makes a hard journey easy.

Math.. Not Jove, attended on by Hermes, was More Melcome to the cottage of Philemon And his poor Baucis, than your gracious self, Your matchless queen, and all your royal train, Are to your servant and his wife.

La (lis. Where is she ?

Hon. I long to see her as my now-loved rival.

Juubii. And I to have a smack at her; 'tis a cordial To an old man, better than sack and a toast Before he goes to supper.

JMath. Ha ! is my house turn'd To a wilderness? nor wife nor servants ready. With all rites due to majesty, to receive Such unexpected blessings ! You assured me Of better preparation ; hath not The excess of joy transported her beyond Her understanding ?

Bapt. I now parted from her, And gave her your directions.

Math. How shall I beg Your majesties' patience ? sure my family's drunk. Or by some witch, in envy of my glory, A dead sleep thrown upon them.

220 THE PICTURE.

Enter IIilario and Servants.

Serv. Sir.

Math. 13ut that The sacred presence of the kinii^ forbids it, ^ly sword sjioidd make a massacre among you. Where is your mistress ;

Hil. First, you are M'elcome home, sir: Then knov/, she says she's sick, sir. — There's no

notice Taken of my bravery !

jMath. Sick at such a time ! It cannot he : thougli she were on her deat]il)ed, And lier Sj)irit e'en now departed, here stand they Could call it hack again, and in this lionour (iive her a second being. 13ring me to her; 1 know not wliat to urge, or how to redeem This mortgage of her manners.

[Exeunt Mat/iias, IIilario, and Servants.

Eiihu. There's no climate On the world, I think, where one jade's trick or

(ither Hcigns not in women.

Eerd. Vou were ever hitter Against the sex.

Ladis. This is very strange.

Hun. Me:in women Have their faults, as well as (juecns.

Ladi-s. (), she appears now.

Re-enicr Math i as zrit/t Sophia ; Hilaiuo

J<dl(>irin'^.

Math. The injury that you conceive I have done you Dispute hereatter, and in your pervcrscnesii "^Vrung not yourself aiui jue.

THE PICTURE. 221

Soph. I am past my childhood,* And need no tutor.

Math. This is the great king, To whom I am engaged till death for all I stand possess'd of.

Soph. My humble roof is proud, sir, To be the canopy of so much greatness Set off witli goodness.

Ladis. My own praises flying In such pure air as your sweet breath, fair lady, Cannot but please me.

Math. This is the queen of queens, In her magnificence to me.

Soph. In my duty I kiss her highness' robe.

Hofi. You stoop too low To her whose lips would meet with yours.

[Kisses her. Soph. Howe'er It may appear preposterous in women So to encounter, 'tis your pleasure, madam, And not my proud ambition. — Do you hear, sir? Without a magical picture, in the touch I find your print of close and wanton kisses On the queen's lips.

Math. Upon your life be silent : And now salute these lords.

Soph. Since you will have me, You shall see I am experienced at the game, And can play it tightly. You are a brave man> sir, [To Ferdinand.

And do deserve a free and hearty welcome : Be this the prologue to it. [Kisses him,

* Soph. I am past my childhood^

And need no tutor.'] The pretty perverseness of Sophia is ex- cellently managed in this short conference, and her breaking oat at leogth, highly uatural and amusing.

222 THE PICTURE.

Euh. An old man's tnrn Is ever last in kissing. I have lips too, However cold ones, madam.

Soph. I will warm them With the fire ot'mine. [^Kisses him.

EubiL And so she has ! I thank you, I shall sleep the better all niglit for't.

Math. You express The boldness of a wanton courtezan, And not a matron's modesty; take up,** Or you are disgraced for ever.

Soph. How? M'ith kissing Eeelingly, as you taught me? would yon have

me Turn my cheek to them, as proud ladies use To their interiours, as if they intended Some business should be Mhisj)er\l in their ear, And not a salutation ? what I do, I will do freely; now I am in the humour, I'll fly at all : are there any more ?

]\J(ith. Eorbear, Or vou M ill raise mv ano;er to a heiii'ht That will descend in fury.

Suph. Why? you know How to resolve vourself w hat mv intents are, By the help of Mei)host()j)hilus,\aM(l your picture : l*ray you, look upon't again. I humbly thank The queen's great care of me while you were

absent. She knew how tedious 'twas for a youni!; m ife,

take «/>,] i. V. rlictk

7 /)/////»•//«■//> <yMt'phosl(t|)liiliis,] i.e. IJaptlsJa. Mcpltosto- ])hUus \s the iiaini- ol" a liriul or tuniiliar .spirit in llu- lli.sfvn/ oj Dr. I'ltiistits., as •well as in the pl.iv of (liat nanif l)\ ('Iiri>- to|ihi'r .MatloNv. lie is alsi» nioutioni-tl liy ShakspiMrc, Jouaoii, FIclclicr, uiul, iiiilccd, by most ol our old druinatisU.

THE PICTURE. 223

And being- for that time a kind of widow, To pass away her melancholy hours Without good company, and in charity, there- fore. Provided for me : Out of her own store She cull'd the lords Ubaldo and Ricardo, Two principal courtiers for ladies' service, To do mc all good offices ; and as such Employ'd by her, I hope I have received And entertain'd them ; nor shall they depart Without the effect arising from the caus« That brought them hither.

Math. Thou dost belie thyself: I know that in my absence thou wert honest, However now turn'd monster.

Soph. The truth is, W^e did not deal, like you, in speculations On cheating pictures; we knew shadows y^QVQ No substances, and actual performance The best assurance. I will bring them hither, To make good in this presence so much for me. Some minutes space I beg your majesties' par- don.— ■ You are moved now ; — champ upon this bit a

little, Anon you shall have another. Wait me, Hilario.

[^E.veunt Sophia and Hilario. Lfttdis. How now^ ? turn'd statue, sir ! Math. Ply, and fly quickly, Prom this cursed habitation, or this Gorgon Will make you all as I am. In her tongue Millions of adders hiss, and everv hair Upon her wicked head a snake more dreadful Than that Tisiphone threw on Athamas, Which in his madness forced him to dismember His proper issue. O that ever I Reposed my trust in magick, or believed

224 THE PICTURE.

Iinpo.ssii)ilitic.s ! or tliat charms had power To sink and searcli into the l)ott()mless hell Of a false woman's heart !

Euhii. Tliese are the fruits Of marria<>-e ! an old hachelor as I am, And, N\ liat's more, will continue so, is not trouhled With these fine vagaries.

Ftrd. Till you are resolved, sir, Forsake not hope.*

Bap. Upon my life, this is Dissimulation.

Lddi.s. And it suits not with Your fortitude and wisdom to he thus Transpc^rted with your passion.

Hon. You were once Deceived in me, sir, as I was in you ; Yet the deceit pleased hoth.

Math, She hath confess'd all ; What further proof should I ask ?

Hun. Yet remend^er The distance that is interposed hetween A woman's tongue and her heart; and you must

grant You huild upon no certainties.

lic-enttr SorniA, C'oiusca, /^/;/^/ Hi la mo, xcith UiiALUo r/;/</ lliCAiiDO .sp'uni'nig am/ rct'ling, as btjorc.

Euhu. What ha\'c we here ?

S()])li. \ {n\ must come on, and shew yourselves.

Ubal. The king !

* Till t/ou arc rcsolu-d, v/r, J'ursukc iiuf /lu/K .j Ui .si)hi(l is ronviiu'cMl. Thus Sliakspcarc : " l\y hi'avnis ! I am i(\i>htil ''• Tlial CliHbrd'smaaliood lies upon his tongue." Sec \ ul. I. ]). '27 J.

THE PICTURE. 225

Ric. And queen too ! would I were as far under the earth As I am above it !

Ubal. Some poet will !' From this relation, or in verse or prose, Or both together blended, render us Ridiculous to all as^es.

Ladis. I remember This face, when it was in a better plight : Are not you Ricardo ?

Hon. And this thing, I take it, Was once Ubaldo.

Ubald. I am now I know not what.

Ric. We thank your majesty for employing us To this subtile Circe.

Eiibii. How, my lord ! turn'd spinster ! Do you work by the day, or liy the great ?

Ferd. Is your theorbo Turn'd to a distaff, signior, and your voice, With which you chanted, Room for a lusty gallant I Tuned to the note oi Lachrymoi?^

Eubu. Prithee tell me, For I know thou'rt free, how oft, and to the

purpose, , Vou've been merry with this lady.

9 Some poet will, &c.] There is something delightful in thes« anticipations of future fame by great minrts. They are the flowery spots in the poet's thorny way, which beguile the weari- ■omeness of his pilgrimage, and in despite of coldness and neglect, reconcile him to his fate.

* Tuned to the note ofLsichrymx^li Lachtymce (as Sir John Hawkins informs us, in his History of Munick) was the title of a musical work composed by John Douland, a celebrated lutanist in the time of king James I. " The title of it at length is i Lachryntce, or seven Tearcsjigured in seavcn passionate Pavans, with divers other Pavans, Galiards, and Almans, set forth to the Lute, Viol, or Violin, injive Parts." To this performance, which was once exceedingly popular, allusions are found in most of our old dramatists. I do not know what the " seven passionate'* (i. e. affecting) compositions were, which made up the bulk of

VOL. III. Q

'J26 THE PICTURE,

Ric. Never, never.

Ladis. Howsoever, you should say so tor your crefiit, Beinu: tlie only eourt bull.

ihald. O that ever I saw this kickins; heifer ! Soph. Vou see, madam, HoNS' 1 have cured your servants, and M'hat fa- vours They with their rampant valour have won from

me. You may, as they are pliysiek'd, I presume. Trust a lair virgin with them; they have learn'd Their several trades to live by, and paid nothing- Eiit cold and hunger for them; and may nov/ Set uj) for themselves, for here I give them over. And now to you, sir; why do you not again Peruse your picture, and take the advice Of your learned consort? these are the men, or

none, That made you, as the Italian says,' a bccco. JlJat/i. I know not which way to entreat your pardon,

this collection, but it seems, from the followinc extract, that one of them was the beautiful and patlictick LumtiUatiun of Lad>j Ann Bot/nccU:

"• Balow, my babe, lie still and slcepe,

" It grieves me sair to see thee weope;'' c^c.

••' ('//. You musicians, play Raloo.

" If'ije. No, pond (f eorge ; Irt's have Lncnjnnr.

^'- Cit. Why this is it." T/ie Kiiig/it of t/tc Burning Vcntle.

' That made you, as tin- Italian says, a becco.] So the old top\ , >\liicli ia far more luiniourous than the sophistication of Mr. M. Mason — as the Jtu/iuns sui/, ^c.

Detio ib rendered, by the couimentators on our old pl.ns, a cuckold; the Italians, however, pive it a more d» laniatory sense : \\ llli them it pt-nerally means \\ hat we call a wittol, i. e. one ac«(ssar\ to his own disj^raci'. This too is the nuauin^ it L'-ars in .Massjni;! r and his coiitiinporarieSj >vlio were, (generally •peaking, no iiidilittrcul Italian kcboiars.

THE PICTURE. 227

Nor am I worthy of it. I\[y Sophia,

J\Iy best Sophia, here before the king,

The queen, these lords, and all the lookers on,

I do renounce my errour, and embrace you,

As the great example to all aftertimes.

For such as M'ould die chaste and noble wives.

With reverence to imitate.

Soph. Not so, sir; I yet hold off. However I have purged My doubted innocence, the foul aspersions, In your unmanly doubts, cast on my honour, Cannot so soon be M^ash'd oif.

Eubu. Shall we have More jiggobobs yet !

Sopli. VVhen you went to the wars, I set no spy upon you, to observe Which way you wander'd, though our sex by

nature Is subject to suspicions and fears ; My confidence in yourloyalty freed me from them. But, to deal as you did, against your religion, With this enchanter, to survey my actions, Was more than woman's weakness ; therefore

know. Arid 'tis my boon unto the king, I do Desire a separation from your bed ; For I will spend the remnant of my life In prayer and meditation.

Math. O take pity Upon my weak condition, or I am More wretched in your innocence, than if I had found you guilty. Have you shewn a jewel Out of the cabinet of your rich mind, To lock it up again ? — She turns away. Will none speak for me? shame and sin have

robb'd me Qf tte use of my tongue.

Q2

^-

J2SS THE PICTURE.

Ladis. Since you have conciucv'd, madam, You wrong the glory ot your victory If you use it not with mercy.

Ferd. Any penance You please to impose upon him, I dare warrant He M'ill gladly sulFcr.

Eubu. Have I lived to see But one good woman, and shall we for a trifle Have her turn nun? 1 will first i)ull down the

cloister. To the old sjjort again, with a good luck to you ! Tis not alone enough tliat you are good, Wc nuist have some of the breed of you: ^ill

you destroy The kind and race of goodness? I am converted. And ask your pardon, madam, for my ill opinion Airainst the sex ; and shew me but two such

more, ril marry yet, and love them.

Hon. She that yet Ne'er knew what 'twas to bend but to the king. Thus beiis remission for him.

^Soph. O, dear madam. Wrong not your greatness so. Onuics. We all are suitors. Ubald. I do deserve to be heard among the rest. Ric. And we have sutl'er'd lor it. Soph. I perceive There's no resistance : bu<- suppose I pardon M'hat's past, who can secure me he"ll be free Erom jealousy hereafter?

Malh. 1 will be My own security: go, ride, Mhcre you i)lcasc; l-'east, revel, ban(|uet, and makechoice \vitln\ bom, I'll ^( t no walrli upon \ou; and, for prool ol it, This cursed j)icture 1 surrender up To a consuming lire.

THE PICTURE. ' 229

Bapt. As I aljjiire Tie practice of my art.

Soph. Upon tliGse terms I am reconciled ; and, for these that have paid The price of their folly, I desire your mercy.

Liidis. At 3^our request they have it.

Uhald. Hano- all trades now.

Ric. I will iind a new one, and that is, to live honest.

Hil. These are my fees.'

Uhakl Pray you, take them, with a mischief.

Lndis. So, all ends in peace now. And, to all married men, he this a caution, Which they should duly tender as their life. Neither to dote too much, nor doubt a wife.

[Ejceunt.'*

Song, by Pallas, iji praise of the victorious Sc idler. Seep. 152.

TJiough zve contcrnplate to express

The glory of our happiness, That, by your powerful arm, have been

So true a victor, that no sin Could ex!er taint you with a blame

To lessen your deserved fame.

Or, though we contend to set

Your worth In the full height, or get

Celestial singers ci^own'd zvlth bays, JVlth flourishes to dress your praise :

You /mow your conquest ; but your story Lives in your triumphant glory.

^ Ilil. These arc mi/ fees. 1^ Meaning the clothes of the two courtiers : thev, it shoiihl be recollected, are at this time dressed ill the cast rags of Ililario.

* The fondness which Massingcr seems to have felt for thi« Play was not misplaced. The circumstanco on Avhich it is.

230 THE PICTURK.

founded is, indeed, sufficiently fantastical, and was disallowed by the philosophy of his own aze: but this is no serious hiii- dtranco to the eliVct of the piece. It is distinguished by a pe- culiar liveliness of fancy, and an intimate knowledge of the heart. It is sportive and tender : it amuses and atVects us; and arein ofhumour, more brisk than usual, relieves the impression of the serious events.

The comick partis too attractive in itself to need any recom- mendation, and its effect is too powerful to be missed by any reader. But it may not be useless to point out the substantial, though less obtrusive, merit of the serious scenes.

If it is more than usually ditVicult to ascertain the influence of sudden pabsions in bosoms srenerall\ virtuous and well regulated, to balance the struggle bet^veen habitual principle and acci- dental temptation, to measure their impression and resistance, and to determine the side to which the victory is due; it is th« praise of !Ma?siuger to have surmounted this dilliculty, in the characters of Mathias and Sophia: in thi' exquisite description of their tender attachment, the casual interruption of their peace, its hjppy restoration, and the proper triumph of virtue. His address is fuitlier displa} ed in the difierence of the causes which bring them back to their duty and to each other. The fortitude, cont'-ntedness. and simplicity of Sophia are the surer guardians of her conduct; while the ardent spirit of Matiiias. bold iu seeking advantages abroad, but impatient concerning his happi- ness at home, exposes him more to the inlluence of dangerous impressions. Accordingly, after a temporary illusion, she res- cues herself from mischiet bv the force of her own uiiud. He is preserved by other causes, the unexpected refusal of llonoria, and the renewed certaint} of the constancy of his wife.

As to the queen herself, the cause of their unhappiness, she is described with much novelty, and truth of nalure. Mr. Colman* has talked of her passion ; if this is the proper term, it is a passion, not for a person, but \i i>iiiui}iti\ She olVers her- self to Mathias from no genuine at(arhnu'nt : it is mere envy of the constancy between him and Sophia, and a malicious ile- termination to shew her own superiority, at whatever risk. Her constitutional vanity, dangerously nursed by the dotin* admi- ration of her Lusb.ind, impels her to seduce a \irtuous man whom she does not love. Her wantonness is whim; and she prepares iu be faithless iierstlt, because she cannot bear .t rival in fidelity.

It is here to be remarked, (hat .Massinger seems to have pre- pared this I'lay with all the resources whnh he could tomnuiiul.

• Src hi* Critical lirjlttlinns onihe old Evgliih Pramalith H'rittrs.

TPIE PICTURE. ^31

In the Observations on the Duke o/Mi/cin, the readfr has been al- ready taught to expect a similarity between the conjugal dotage of Siorzaand Ladislaus, Sec. kc. Several other plays have been made to contiibute sentiments and incidents to l/ie Picture It is impossible to read Honoria's temptation of Mathias, Act III. sc. V. and not to remember the progress of Donusa's solicita- tions, and the amazement of Vitelli — Rcncgado, Act II. sc. iv. — T/ie Roman Actor furnishes other circumstances of the same kind, from the conversation of Paris both with Domitia and the emperor. Act IV. sc. ii: and it is remarkable, that he pleads with the latter, not only in the thought, but in the very manner of Honoria: their argument appears to contradict their own wishes, and this is equally noticed by Domilian and Mathias. The whimsical weakness to which Ubaldo and Ri- cardo are reduced, and the jokes to which it exposes them, have already amused us in the characteristick punishment of Perigot — FarlioMeiit of Love. And, to quote only one more instance, though several might be added, the noble freedom with which Mathias corrects the levity of the queen. Act IV. sc. iv, though greatly superiour to it, is certainly suggested by Gonzaga's austere but spirited rebuke of Aurelia — Maid of Honour. Act IV. sc.iv.

In short, Massinger has not scrupled to adorn this Play with whatever was afforded by the story itself, or could be added from his ow n writings : and, like the artist of old, he has com- posed an exquisite Picture from a collection of many scattered beauties

There are two morals combined in this play ; one arising from the doting love of Ladislaus ; the ether, from the suspi- cions of Mathias. Vanity is always unfeeling : and, through indiscreet admiration, may be carried far beyond the supposed frivolousness of its nature, and become a raging passion, de- structive of our own virtue and of the happiness of others. Again, unreasonable doubt destroys the very happiness which it la- bours to secure. Irritation is the natural consequence of un- just suspicion; and the desire of revenge hurries us into actions from which our better principles would otherwise have pre- served us. What is worse, we excuse ourselves in mischief on account of the very motive on which we act; and arc content to be outrageous on the flattering principle of justice itself.

Dr. Ireland.

THE

EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

The Emperor of the East.] This Tragi-comedy was licensed for the stage March 1 1th, 1631, and printed in the following year. The plot is taken from the history of Theodosius the younger, as delivered by the Byzantine writers. See the concluding Ob- servations by Dr. Ireland.

Massinger has followed his various authorities somewhat more closely than usual ; indeed, he disclaims, in the Prologue, all merit on the score of invention, the work being, as he says, " a story of reverend antiquity."

Notwithstanding the excellence of this Play, it met with some opposition at its first appearance : its distinguished merits, how- ever, procu.ed it a representation at court, and it finally seems to have grown into very general favour. It is preceded, in the old edition, by several commendatory poems, one of which, by W. Singleton, is not undeserving of praise.

It was frequently acted, as the title-page tells us, " at the Blackfriars and Globe PJay-houscs, by the King's Majesty's servants."

TO The Righl Honourable, and my especial good Lord,

JOHN LORD MO II UN,

BARON OF OKEHA.MPTON, &c.

VI V COun LOUD,

J^ET my preaiimptiun }?i sfi/ling yon so, (having finer de- scried il in my strv/Cf,)Jrum the clemency of your noble dis- position,Jind pardon * The reverence due to the name of Mohan, long since honoured in three earls of Somerset, and eight barons of Munstcr, may challenge from all pens a deserved celebration. And the rather m resfject thusf titles tcere not purchased, but conferred y and continiud in your an- cestors,for manif virtuous, noble, and still living actions ; nor ever forfeited or tainted, hut zchen the iniquity of thn^t limes laboured the depression of approved goodness, and in icirked pidiey held it Jit that loipilty and faith, in taking part zvith the true prince, should be degraded and mulcted. Hut this admitting no further dilation in this place, may your lord- ship please, and xcith all possible brevity, to understand the reasons ichy lam, in humble ihajikfuluiss, ambitious to shel- ter this poem under the zcings of i/our honourable protection. My xcorlhy friend, Mr. Aston Cockai/ne, i/our nejditW,to my extraordinary content, delivered to me that your lord-

* MV GOOD LORD,

Let 7111/ presiimpttuit in sti/fing you so, &c.l To uiidiTsfanil this icnfcnr<', it will be necessary to n-oollect that ''^ my good tonl,'^ meant, in the liiimiiaije ol Massin^er and his ronfeinjiora- rirs, ni\ juilrvn. Ot (hi-, mode ot expiessiow niaii\ inst.uu es aro tf) he loiind in these volumes. It oeeurs also in lite Sptmiih 'J'rdjsedy., r.liieh I inetition lor Hie sake of correeting a slight mistake :

" Lor. What would he with u-;? he u rites us here. 'J'o itand iiixxl Lorenzo, and Iwlp him in his distre^." Ad III.

In the Inte editions, tliere ii a luuiuia aftei itand., wliich jur- »er(» (he seiibc.

[ ^Z'^7 ]

ihip, at your vacant hours, sometimes vouchsafed to peruse such trijici of mine as have passed the prtss, ami not alone U'"rraultd them in !/our gentle su/frage, hut disdained not to bisrorz^ a rcnenibiance of your love, and intended favour to me I profess to the U)orld, I a'as exalted with the bounty, and with, good assurance, it being so rare in this age to meet with one noble name, that, in fear to be cemured of levity and Weakness, dares express itself a friend or patron to con- temned poetry.* Having, therefore, no means else left me to icitness the obligation in which I stand most willingly bound to your lordship, I offer this Tragi-comedy to your graciow^ acceptance, no way despairing, but that with a clear aspect you will deign to receive it, (it being an induction to my future endeavours,) and that in the list of those, that to your merit truly admire you, you may descend to number

your lordship's faithful honourerf

PHILIP MJSSINGER,

* That this noble lord not only favoured poetry, but wrofe himsci!', appears IVom Sir Aston Cockayne's letters to his lord. ship, in verse. See Cockayne's Poems, p. 80. Co.\et£;k.

[ £S8 ]

PROLOGUE*

AT THE BI.ACKFRIARS.

Di'T that imperious custom warrants it, Our autlior with mucli willingness would omit This preface to his new work, lie hath found, (And suft'er'd for't, ) many are apt to wound Mis credit in this kind : and, whether lie Express liimself fearful, or peremptory, lie cannot "scape their censures who delight To misapply whatever he shall write. 'Tis his hard fate. And though he will not sue. Or basely beg such suffrages, yet, to you, Free and ingenious spirits, he doth now, In me, present his service, with his vow He hath done his best; and, though he cannot

glory In his invention, (this work being a story Of reverend anticjuity, ) he doth liope. In the proportion of it, antl tiie scope, You may observe some pieces drawn like one Of a stedfast hand; and, with the M'lfiter stone, To be markM in your fair censures, ^lore than

this I am forbid to promise, and it is AVith the most till you confirm it: since we know Whate'er the shaft be, archer, or the bow From which 'tis sent, it cannot hit the. m hitc, Unless your a[)probation guide it right.

• This prologuf. Iialh hi'pii hithpito very iiicorrtctlj given. It is hcri". rctoriucd from the old copicx.

[ S39 ]

PROLOGUE

AT COURT.

As ever, sir, you lent a gracious ear To oppress'd innocence, now vouchsafe to bear A short petition. At your feet, in me, The poet kneels, and to your majesty Appeals for justice. What we now present, When first conceived, in his vote and intent, Was sacred to your pleasure ; in each part With his bestof fancv, jud"'ment, lan";uao-e, art, lashion a and form'd so, as might well, and may Deserve a welcome, and no vulgar way. He durst not, sir, at such a solemn feast, Lard his grave matter with one scurrilous jest ; But lahour'd that no passage might appear, But what the queen without a blush might hear: And yet this poor work sufter'd by the rage And envv of some Catos of the stao-e : Yet srill he hopes this Play, which then was seen With sore eyes, and condemn'd out of their spleen, May be by you, the supreme judge, set free. And raised above the reach of calumny.

DRAMATIS PERSONiE.

Theodosius the younger, the emperor.

Paiiliniis, a kinsman to the emperor.

Philaiiax, captain of the guard,

Timantus, ^

Chrysapius, > eunuchs of the emperor's chamber.

Gratianus, J

Cleon, a traveller, friend to Paiilinus.

Patriarch.

Informer.

Projector.

Master of the Habits and Manners.

Minion of the Suburbs.

Countryman.

Surgeon.

Empirick.

Pulcheria, the protectress, sister to the emperor.

Athcnais, a strange virgin, afterwards empress, and

na}ned¥jiu\(jch.

Arcadia, \ . . . ^.,

y, . .•ii- r the younger sisters oj the emperor.

Officers, Suitors, Attendants, Guards, Iluntsjuan, E.vecuiioners, Servants, c^-c.

SCENE, C()ii.stantinf>j)lc.

THE

EMPEROR OF THE EAST,

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter Paulinus and Cleon.

Paul. In your six years travel, friend, no doubt, you have met with Many and rare adventures, and observed The wonders of each climate, varying in The manners and the men ; and so return, For the future service of your prince and country, In your understanding better'd.

Cie. Sir, I have made of it The best use in my power, and hope my gleanings After the full crop others reap'd before me, Shall not, when I am call'd on, altogether Appear unprofitable : yet I left The miracle of miracles in our age At home behind me ; every Avhere abroad. Fame, with a true though prodigal voice, deliver'd Such wonders of Pulcheria, the princess, To the amazement, nay, astonishment rather, Of such as heard it, that I found not one. In all the states and kingdoms that I pass'd through, Worthy to be her second.

Paul. She, indeed, is A perfect phoenix, and disdains a rival.

VOL. III. R

^42 THE e:\ipeiioii or the east.

Her iniant years, as you know, promised nuicli, But, i;roun to ripeness, she transcends, and makes Credulity lu-r debtor. I M'ill tell you, In m\' blunt way, to entertain the time, Until you have the ha])])iness to see her, How in your absence she hath born herself. And with all possible brevity; thoui^'h the subject Is such a spacious held, as would re(piire An abstract of the purest eloquence ( Dciived from the most famous orators 'i'hc nurse of learning-, Athens, shew "d the world) In tbat man, that shoidd undertake to be Her true histoiian.

Ck. Ill this you shall do me A special favour.

Paul. Since Arcadius' death, Our late great master, the protection of Tbe prince, his son, tlie second Theodosius, Dy a general vote and suHVagc of tbe j)cople, Was to her cbarge assign'd, with tlic disposurc Of his so many kingdoms. I'or his person, Slic bath so train'd liim up in all those arts '^I'bat arc- botb grc;it and good, and to be wislfd In an imperial monarcb, tbat the motber Of the Gracchi, grave Cornelia, Home still boasts

The wise Pulchcria but named, must he

No more remendjcr'd. Sbc, by bcr c\amj)le,

JIatb made tbe court a kiiul of academy,

in which true honour i^ bolb Icarn'd and

jjract \^c(\ : ]\vv j)ri\al(" lo(lgings a cliastc nunnery, h\ wlii( li bcr sisters, as i^robationers, iiear I'roin bcr, tbeir so\ creign abbess, all I be piccepts lU'.id in 1 lie srbool ol" \ ill uc.

( Ic. \ ou amaze me.

I'diil. I sball, erel combul ; lorbeie llie wonder

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 243

Begins, not ends. Her soul is so immense,

And her strong* faculties so apprehensive,

To search into tlie depth of deep designs,

And of all natures, that the burthen, which

To many men were insupportable,

To her is but a gentle exercise,

INIade, by the frequent use, familiar to her.

Cle. With your good favour, let me interrupt you. Being, as she is, in every part so perfect, IVIethinks that all kings of our eastern world Should become rivals for her.

Paul. So they have ; But to no purpose. She, that know^s her strength To rule and govern monarchs, scorns to wear On her free neck the servile yoke of marriage ; And for one loose desire, envy itself Dares not presume to taint her. Venus' sou Is blind indeed when he but gazes on her; Her chastity being a rock of diamonds. With which encounter'd, his shafts fly in splinters; His flaming torches in the living spring Of her perfections quench'd : and, to crown all, She's so impartial when she sits upon The high tribunal, neither sway'd with pity. Nor awed by fear, beyond her equal scale, That 'tis not superstition to believe Astrea once more lives upon the earth, Pulcheria's breast her temple.

Cle. You have given her An admirable character.

Paul. She deserves it : And, such is the commanding power of virtue. That from her vicious enemies it compels Pasans of praise, as a due tribute to her.

[Loud musick.

Cle, What means this solemn musick ?

R2

^2U THE LMPEUOil OF THE EAST.

Paiii. Sir,' it ushers The emperor's morning meditation, In Mhich Piilcheria is more than assistant. 'Tis uortli your observation, and } ou may Collect from her expense of time this day, How lier liours, tor many years, liave beeu disposed of.

Cic. I am all eves and ears.

E filer, after a stra'ui of solemn musick, Philaxax, 'J'l.MANTUS, Patriarcli, Thkodosi us, Pulcue- uiA, Flaccilla, aiid Arcadia; Jol/owecl bji C u u V s A p 1 1' s and G ii a t i a x u s ; Servants, and Ojjleers.

Pal. Your patience, sir. Let tliose corrupted ministers of the court, ^\'hicll you complain of, our devotions ended, Be cited to appear: for tlic ambassadours ^V'ho are importunate to liave audience, From me vou mav assure them, that to morrow They shall in publick kiss the enij)eror"s robe, And \vv in private, w itli our soone^st leisure. Will give them hearing. Have you especial care

too. That free access be granted unto all Petitioners. The morning w cars. — Pray you, on,

.sir;_ Time lost is ne'er recover'd.

[EA'eunt all hut PuiirniHs and Cleon

Paul. 1 )i(l yon note The majesty she aj)peais in r

rVt'. ^'es, my good lord ; I w as ravisird with it.

' I'aul Sir, if us/icrs Sec] A nionosx llahlo lias (lro|)( ouf litTc. 1 li.ivi' iiHcitcd 6//-J the inobt iiinocnil oiio tlial occiurcil III rii''.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 245

Paul. And then, with what speed She orders lier dispatches, not one daring To interpose; the emperor himself, Without reply, j)utting in act whatever She pleased to impose^ upon him.

Cle. Yet there w ere some, That, in their snllen looks, rather confess'd A forced constraint to serve her, than a will To be at her devotion : what are they?

Paul. Eunuchs of the emperor's chamber, that repine The globe and awful sceptre should give place , Unto the distaif, for as such they whisper A woman's government, but dare not yet Express themselves.

Cle. From whence are the ambassadours To whom she promised audience ?

Paul. They are Employ'd by divers princes, who desire Alliance with our emperor, whose years now, As you see, write him man. One would advance A daughter to the honour of his bed ; A second, his fair sister : to instruct you In the particulars would ask longer time Than my own designs give w^ay to. I have letters From special friends of mine, that to my care Commend a stranger virgin, whom this morning I purpose to present before the princess : If you please, you may accompany me.

Cle. I'll wait on you. [Exeunt.

* She pleased to impose'] Is, which the modern editors insert before pleased, wa* admitted without authorit\ , and indeed without necessifv.

246- THE EMPEROR OE THE EAST.

SCENE H.

Another Room in the same.

Enter the Informer, xc'ith Officers bringing in the Projector, the Minion of the Suburbs, and the Master of the Hubit and Manners.

Injur. AVhy bhoulcl you droop, or hang your working heads ? No danger is meant to yon ; pray bear up : Eor aught I know, you are cited to receive Preferment due to your merits.

Proj. Very likely : In all the projects I have read and practised, I never found one man compelfd to come Before the seat of justice under guard. To receive honour.

Injor. No ! it may be, y(ni are The first example. Men of (lualities, As I have delivered you to tlie protectress, "SMio knows how to advance them, cannot con- ceive A fitter place to have their virtues publishtl. Than in open court. C'oukl you h(.)[)e that tlie

j)rincess. Knowing your precious merits, m ill reward the in In a private corner? No; you know not yet How you may i)e exalted.

]\lin. To the i»;allo\\s.

Injor. J"ie ! Nor yet (h'{)r(>ss"d to the gallics; in your names ^ On carry no ■>\\(\\ crimes: your spieious tiths Cannot but take her: — Pre^ident uf the Pro- jectors I

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 247

What a noise it makes ! The Master of tlie Habit ! How proud would some one country be that 1

know, To be your first pupil !' Minion of the Suburbs, And now and then admitted to the court, And iionour'd with the style of Squire of Dames ! * What hurt is in it? One thing I must tell you, As I am the state-scout, you may think me an

informer. Mast. They are synonyma.*

3 T/te Master of the Hahit !

How proud -would some one countrj be that I know^ To be i/our first pupil .'^ " Still harping upon England," which, at the time these scenes are supposed to have taken place, was struggling with a few " naked Picts" for wolves' skins!

4 And honour'd xvith the style of Squire of Dames!] This seems to have been a cant term, Avith our old dramatists, for a pander, in allusion probably to his designation. The Squire o Dames is a personage of great respectability in the Faerie Qiieenc^ from whence, as Mr. Gilchrist observes to me, Massinger de- rived the appellation. In Book III. Canto vii. stanza 53, " ke is dispatched by his mistress, to relieve distressed damsels during the space of a twelvemonth. This injunction he happilv''per- forms, and returns with three hundred proofs of his prowess and success ; his capricious fair one then forbids him her pre- sence until he can find as many other ladies,

" The which, for all the suit he could propound, " Would him refuse their pledges to afford,

*' But did abide for ever chaste and sound.'" *' After straying three years, and endeavouring with all his might to effect the purpose of his mission, he acknowledges to Satyrane, (miserabile dictu !) that he had found but three!" The story, as Warton has observed, is copied from Ariosto's Host's Tale, c. 28.

5 Mast. They are synonyma.] The modern editors have igno. rantly corrupted this into synonymous ; but synonyma was the word in use in Massinger's time., v

Thus Jonson :

" Where lately harbour'd many a famous whore,

" A purging bill, now.fix'd upon the door,

" Tells you it is a hot-house : so it may,

" And still be a whore-huuse; — they're synonyma."

J'^pig. >iL

^4S THE EMPEKOli OF THE EAST.

Infer. Conceal nothing from her Of your good parts, 'tuill be the better for you; Or if }ou should, it matters not ; she can conjure, And I am her ubiquitary spirit, Bound to obev her : — you have mv instructions; Stand by, here's better company.

Enter Paulinus, Cleon, and Atiiexais xclth a

petition.

A then. Can I hope, sir, Oppressed innocence shall lind protection And justice anions- strangers, w hen my brothers. Brothers of one Momb, by one sire begotten, Trample (m my atliictions ?

Paul. Forget them, Remembering those may help you.

Athen. They have robb'tl me Of all means to prefer my just complaint, A\'ith any promising hope to gain a hearing, IMuch less redress: petitions not sweetened With gold, are but unsavory, oft refused ; Or, if received, are pocketed, not read. A suitor's swellinii- tears by the irlow ing beams Of cholerick authority are dried up Before they fall, or, if seen, never pitied. What will become of a forsaken maitl ! My flattering hopes are too M'cak to encounter With my strong enemy, despair, and 'tis In vain to oppose her.

C'lc. Cheer her uj) ; she faints, si)-.

Paul. This argues ^\■eakness ; tlnnigh your bro- thers Mere Cru(l beyond expression, and tlic judges That sentenced you, coil iij)t ; you shall iind here One of your own fair se.x to do you light. Whose beams of justice, like the sun, extend

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 249

Their light and heat to strangers, and are not Municipal or confined.

Athen. Prav vou, do not feed me With airy liopes; unless you can assure me The great Pulcheria will descend to hear My miserable story, it were better 1 died without the tn^uble.

Paul. She is bound to it By the surest chain, her natural inclination To help the afflicted ; nor shall long delays, More terrible to miserable suitors Than quickdenials.grieveyou. Dry yourfaireyes; This room will instantly be sanctified With her bless'd presence ; to her ready baud Present your grievances, and rest assured You shall depart contented.

Athen. You breathe in me A second life.

Inj'or. Will your lordship please to hear Your servant a few words t

Paul. Away, you rascal ! Did I ever keep such servants T

Inj'or. If your honesty Would give you leave, it would be for your profit,

Paul. To make use of an informer ! tell me, in what Can you advantage me ?

Infor. In the first tender Of a fresh suit never begg'd yet.

Paul. What's your suit, sir ?

Infor. 'Tis feasible: — here are three arrant knaves Discovered by my art.

Paul. And thou the archknave: The orreat devour the less.

Infor. And with good reason ; I must eat one a month, I cannot live else.

1250 THE i:-MPi:U()U OF THE EAST.

Paid. A notable cannibal ! but slioukl I licar thee. In what do your knaves concern nie ?

luj'or. In the begging Of their estates.

Paul. Before they are condemn'd ?

InJ'or. Yes, or arraign'd; your lordship may speak too late else.* They are your own, and I will be content AVitli the fifth part of a share.

Paid, ilenee, rogue !

Injur. Such rogues In this kind will be heard and cherislf d too. Tool that I was, to otfer such a bargain To a spiced-conscience chapman ! — but I care not; What he disdains to taste, others will swallow.

Loud Mnaick. Ento' Theodosius, Puixheri-a, AiicADiA, Flaccilla, Patriarch, Philaxax, TiMAXTUs, CiiRVSAPius, Gratianus, au(I Att aidants.

Clc. They are returned from the temple.

Paul. See, she appears ; "What think you now ?

Atlu'.n. A cunning ])ainter thus, Her veil ta'en off, and awful sMord and l)alance Laid Ijy, would j)ieture Justice.

^ Yes., or arraign d ; your lordship mny speak loo Inte else. ) 'YhU is a severe sarciism on the. aviilify of tho courtiers in ,Mas- sini^er's time; uiirordiiiafeiv (oo, it is jui.!. ']'iie estates ol" nianv roiKlciniied jjersdiis were Ixgi^cd wiili sramlaloiis precipi- tation Ijy the lasonrites of the day, and, ^hat is wor.M*, m-re justly suspected, in more than one instance, to have constituted tlie print ipal part of the criim- lor \\hicii the possessors sullercd : '■ Sir, you are rich; Ix'sidi s, >(>u know what \ou " Have jiot by your ward's dialli: I liar > on will *' \\>i brgg'd al court." J'/'iv WiU.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 25 1

Pul. When you please, You may intend those royal exercises Suiting- your birth and greatness : I will bear The burthen of your cares, and, having purged The bod}^ of your empire of ill humours, Upon my knees surrender it.

Chry. Will you ever Be awed thus like a boy ? Grat. And kiss the rod Of a proud mistress ?

Tim. Be what you were born, sir. Phil. Obedience and majesty never lodged In the same inn.

Tlieod. No more ; he never learn 'd The right way to command, that stoppVl his ears To wise directions.

Pul. Read o'er the papers I left upon my cabinet, two hours hence I will examine you.

Flac. We spend our time well ! Nothing but praying and poring on a book. It ill agrees with my constitution, sister.

Arcad. Would I had been born some masking- lady's womin, Only to see strange sights, rather than live thus 1 Flac. We are gone, forsooth; there is no re- medy, sister. [^Exeunt Arcadia and Flaccilla. Grat. What hath his eye found out ? Tim. 'Tis fix'd upon That stranger lady.

Chry. I am glad yet, that He dares look on a woman.

[All this time the Informer is ImeeUvg lo Pul- cheria, and delivering papers. Theo. Philanax, What is that comely stranger ? Phil. A petitioner.

'252 Tin: EMPEROR OF TflE EAST.

Chry. Will you hear her case, and dispatch her in your chamber ? ni undertake to bring her.

Theo. Brini^ nie to Sonic place where I may look on her demeanour : 'Tis a lovelv creature !

C/in/. There's some hope in this yet.

[Flourish. E.ieu)it Theodosius, PatnarcJu Philanax, Timantus, ChrtjsapiKs, and Oratianus.

Pill. No : you have done your parts.

Paul. Now opportunity courts you, Prefer your suit.

Athcu. As low as misery Can fall, for proof of my humility, A ])oor distressed virgin bows her head, And hivs hold on vonr <>;oodness, the la.>>t aitar Calamity can fly to for protection. Great minds erect their never-falling trojjhiei' On the firm base of mercy ; but to triumph Over a suppliant, by proud lortune cajjtived. Argues a bastard concpiest: — 'tis to }(mi I speak, to you, the fair and just Pulcheria, The wonder of the ai>e, vour sex's honour; And as such, deign to hear me. As you have A soul moulded from heaven, and do desire To have it made a star there, make the means Of your asccut to that celestial height Virtue, win"'"tl u itii brave action : tlu\ <lraM' near The nature and tlie essence of the ''"ods, A\I)o imitate thtir goodness.

PuL If \oii w ere A subject of tbc empire, which vour habit In every part denies

7 (heat minds tmt tliiir nrvrr-falling troplnts \ yi\fr-f'aHiiii^ is ihv roadini: of flir "Id copi' s, and sliould not he cliaiig«'d. C'oAcltr and Mr. M. Mason exhibit luxir-Jai/i/i^

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 253

Athen. O, tly not to Such an evasion ! wbatc'er I am, liei'.i^ a woman, in humanity You Lire hound to right me. Though the diffe- rence Of my rehgion nny seem to exclude me From your defence, which you would have con- lined ; The moral virtue, which is general, ?^Iast know no limits. By these blessed feet. That pace the paths of equity, and tread boldly On the stiff neck of tyrannous oppression, 13y these tears by which I bathe them, 1 conjure

von With pity to look on me !

FiiL Pray you, rise; And, as you rise, receive this comfort from me. Beauty, set ofi with such sweet language, never Can want an advocate ; and you must bring- More than a guilty cause if you prevail not. Some business long since thought upon dispatch'd, You shall have hearing, and, as far as justice Will warrant me, my best aids.

Athen. I do desire No stronger guard ; my equity needs no favour.

[IValh aside.

Pul. Are these the men?

Proj. We were, an't like your highness, The men, the men of eminence and mark, And may continue so, if it please your grace.

Jllast. This speech was well projected.

PuL Does vouv conscience, I will begin \vith you, whisper unto you What here you stand accused of? Are you named The President of Projectors ?

InJ'or. Justify it, man, And tell her in what thou'rt useful.

<i.54 THE EMPEiUJU OE THE EAST.

Proj. That is apparent ; And it" you please, ask some al)out the court, And they will tell you, to my rare inventions They o\ve their bravery, perhai)S means to pur- chase, And cannot live without me. I, alas ! Lend out my labouring brains to use, and some- times For a drachma in the pound, — the more the pity. I am all patience, and endure the curses Ofmanv, tor the profit of one patron.

Pal. i do conceive the rest. What is the se- cond ?

I)ifor. 'I'he Minion of the Suburbs. '■ Pill. What hath he To do in Constantinople ?

Min. I steal in now and then. As I am thouo-ht useful ; marry, there I am call'd The Scjuire of Dames, or Servant of the Sex, And by the allowance of some sportful ladies, Honour'd with that title.

Pnl. Spare your character, You are here\lecipher"d : stand by with your

compeer. What is the third ? a creature I ne'er heard of: The Master of the Manners and the Habit ! You ha\e a double otiice.

Mast. In m\- actions I make both good; for by my theorems, Whicii your polite and terser gallants practise, I re-refme the court,' and civili/c Tiieir barbarous natures. 1 lia\ c in a table, With curious |)unctuality, set down,

•^ 1 rt-.rernie ///<• t«u/Y,j So tlif old copy: tli. moil. ni nli- tors n-ad, / n-liiu- tin: courtj wljich ilcktroyu at oucc tli<' l>u- uiuur anil (In: uictro.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. Q55

To a liair's breath, how low a new-stamp'd cour- tier May vail' to a country gentleman, and by Gradation, to his merchant, mercer, draper, His linen-man, and tailor. Pill. Pray you, discover This hidden mystery.

Mast. If the foresaid courtier (As it may chance sometimes) find not his name Writ in the citizens books, with a state hum He may salute them after three days Avaiting; But, if he owe them money, that he may Preserve his credit, let him in policy never Appoint a day of payment, so they may hope

still: But, if he be to take up more, his page May attend them at the gate, and usher them Into his cellar, and when they are warm'd with

wine, Conduct them to his bedchamber; and though

then He be under his barber's hands, as soon as seen, He must start up to embrace them, vail thus

low ; Nay, though he call them cousins, 'tis the better, His dignity no way wrong'd in't. Paul. Here's a fine knave ! Pul. Docs this rule hold without exception, sinah, For courtiers in general? Mast. No, dear madam, For one of the last edition; and for him I have composed a dictionary, in which

9 ho-jD low a neui-stamp'd courtier

Mat) vail to a country gentleman,^ i. e. bow ; the word oc- curs agHin, in the same sense, a few lines below.

*256 THE KMPEHOIl OF THE EAST.

He is instructed, how, when, and to Mhom,

To Ijc j)rou{l or luinililc ; at what times of the

year He niav do a irood deed tor itself, and that is V^'v'it in tloniinical letters; all days else Are his ow n, and of those days the several liours i\Iark"d out, and to what use.

Pi(/. Shew 11^) your method ; I am stranii-elv taken w ith it.

Maat. "Twill deserve A pension, I liope. First, a strong eullis In his bed, to heighten appetite; sliuttle-eoek, To keep him inoreath when lie rises: tennis-courts Are ehari»-eable, and tlie ridino; of o'veat liorses Too boisterous for my young courtier ; let the

old ones I think not of use it: next, Ids meditation How to court his mistress, and that lie may sccn^

Let him be furnisli'd witli confederate jests Between him and his friend, that, on occasion, Thev m:iv vent tliem mutualK' : what his i)ace

and garb Must be in the presence, tlien tlie lengtli of his

sword, Tlie fashion of the liilt — what tlie blade is It matters not, 'twere barbarism to use it, Unless to shew liis strength upon an antliron ; So. the sooner broke the better.

Pit I. How I abuse This precious time ! Projector, I treat liist Of you and your disciples; >ou roar out, All is the king's, his will above his laws ; And that lit tributes are too gcuth- \okc> For his pool- subjects : whis|)ering in his ear, If he would have their I'car, no man should dale 'i o bring a salad fjtnn his country garden,

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 257

Without the paying* g-abel;* kill a hen,

Without excise : and that if he desire

To have his children or his servants wear

Their heads upon their shouklers, you aflfirm

In policy 'tis lit the owner should

Pay for them by the poll ; or, if the prince want

A present sum, he may command a city

Impossi!)ilities, and for non-performance,

Compel it to submit to any fine

His officers shall impose. Is this the way

To make our emperor happy ? can the groans

Of his subjects yield him musick ? must his

thresholds Be washed with widows and wrong'd orphans'

tears. Or his power grow contemptible ?

Prqj. I begin To feel myself a rogue again.

Fid. But you are The squire of dames, devoted to the service Of gamesome ladies, the hidden mystery Discovered, their close bawd, thy slavish breath Fanning the fires of lust ; the go-between This female and that wanton sir; your art Can blind a jealous husband, and, disguised Like a milliner or shoemaker, convey A letter in a pantofle or glove. Without suspicion, nay, at his table. In a case of picktooths; you instruct them how To parley with their eyes, and make the temple

no man should dare

To bring a salad from his country garden.

Without the payinii; gabel ; &c.] This spirit of imposition is "Well touched on by D )iine :

*' shortly, boys shall not play

" At span-counter, or blow-point, but shall pay " Toll to some courtier." Sat. iv.

VOL. 111. S

gjs the emperor of the east.

A mart of locscness : — to discover all Your subtile brokages, ^vcre to teacb in publick Those private practices which are, injustice, Severely to be piinish'cl.

]\H)t. I an\ cast : A jury of my patronesses cannot quit me.

Pul. You are master of the manners and the liabit ; Rather the scorn of such as would live men, And not, like apes, with servile imitation Study prodigious fashions. You keep Intelligence abroad, that may instruct Our giddy youth at home what new-found fashion Is now in use, swearing he's most complete That first turns monster. Know, villains, I can

thrust This arm into your liearts, strip off tlie flesh That covers your deformities, and shew you In your omh nakedness. Now, though the hnv Call not your follies death, you are for ever Banislfd my brother's court. — Away with them; I will hear uo reply.

[E.veinit Injonner, andO[}lccrsxcU)i the Project o)\ Mbiion of the Suburbs^ and Master oj' the Habit and JSlannera.

Enter above, Tn eo dos i v s, Pii i la \ a \, T i .m a n t u s, CiiitvsAPJ I s, and Guatianls.

Paul. M'hat think you now?

Cle. That I am in a dream; or that I see A second Pallas.

Pal. These removed, to you 1 clear my brow . Speak w ithoiit fear, sweet maid, Since, with a mild asj)ect, and ready ear, 1 sit j)rej)are(l to hear yon.

Allien. Know, great princess,

THE EjMPEROR OF THE EAST. 259

My father, though a pagan, was admired For his deep search into those hi(hlen studies, \\ iiose know'ledire is denied to common men: The motion, with the divers operations Of the superiour bodies, by his long And careful observation were made Familiar to him ; all the secret virtues Of plants and simples, and in what degree They were useful to mankind, he could discourseof: In a word, conceive him as a prophet honour'd In his own country. But being born a man, It lay not in him to defer the hour Of his approaching death, though long foretold: In this so fatal hour he calfd before him His two sons and myself, the dearest pledges Lent him by nature, and with his right hand Blessing our several heads, he thus began.

Cliry. Mark his attention.

Phil. Give me leave to mark too.

Athen. If I could leave my understanding to yoUy It were superfluous to make division Of whatsoever else I can bequeath you : But, to avoid contention, I allot An equal portion of 'my possessions To you, my sons ; but unto thee, my daughter^ My joy, my darling, (pardon me, though I Repeat his words,) if my prophetick soul. Heady to- take her flight, can truly guess at ' Thy future fate, I leave the^ strange assurance Of the greatness thou art born to, unto which Thy brothers shall be proud to pay their service : — >

Paul. And all men else, that honour beauty.

Theo. Umph !

* / have the strange assurance'] So the

old copy. The modern editors read — I leave thee strange as- surance : but the whole of this beautiful scene is vilely disgraced by numerous errours and omissions in both the last editions.

S2

2(30 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Athen. Vet, to prepare thee for that cert aw for- tune, Ami that I may from present xcants defend thee, I leave ten thousand c/^ozcns: — M'liich said, being

ciiird

To the tellowsbip of our deities, he expired, And with him all remembrance of the charge Concerning nic, left by him to my brothers. Ful. Did they detain your legacy ? Athen. And s\ill do. His ashes were scarce quiet in his urn, AVbcn, in derision of my future greatness, They thrust me out of doors, denying me One short night's harbour. Ful. Wecj) not. Athen. I desire, By your persuasion, or commanding power, The restitution of mine own ; or liiat. To keep my frailty from temptation, In your compassion of me, you would please, I, as a handmaid, may be entertaincl To do the meanest oifices to all such As are honour\l in your service.

Fill. Thou art welcome. \\'hat is thy name ?

Athen. The forlorn Athenais. Ful. The sweetness of thy innocence strangely takes me. {^Fakes her up, an<l hisses her.

Forget thy brothers' wrongs; for I as ill be In mv care a mother, in niv love a sister to

thee ; And, were it ])ossible tlu.'U couldst lie won

'J'o be of our belief

J'l/i/l. May it please your excellence, That is an easy task ; I, though no scholar, Dare uiideitake it ; clear truth cannot want Ivbetorical persuasions.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 261

Pill. 'Tis a work, My lord, will well become you. — Break up the

court : May your endeavours prosper !

Paul. Come, my fair one; I hope, my convert.

Athen. Never : I will die As I \vas born. Paul. Better you ne'er had been. [Exeunt.

Phil. What does your majesty think of?

the maid's gone. Theo. She's wondrous fair, and in her speech appear'd Pieces of scholarship.

Cliry. Make use of her learning And beauty together ; on my life she will be

proud To be so converted.

Tlteo. From foul lust heaven guard me !

\E.veunt»

ACT n. SCENE I.

A Room in the Palace. \

Enter Fhila^ AX, Timantus, Chrysapius, and

Gratianus.

Phil. We only talk, when we should do.

Tim. I'll second you ; Begin, and when you please.

Grat. Be constant in it.

Chry. That resolution which grows cold to day, Will freeze to morrow.

262 THE EMPEROR OF ^IIE EAST.

Grat. "Slight ! I think slie'll keep him Her -ward for ever, to herself engrossing The disposition ot" all the favours And bounties of the empire.

Chri). A\'e, that, ])y The nearness of our service to liis person, Should raise this man, or i)ull down that, v.ithout Her license liardly dare prefer a suit, Or if we do, 'tis cross'd.

PhlL You are troubled for Your proper ends ; my aims arc high and honest. The Mrong that's done to majesty I repine at: I love the emperor, and 'tis my ambition To have him know himself, and to that purpose I'll run the hazard of a check.

Grat. And I The loss of my place.

I'un. I Mill not come behind, Tail what can fall.

Clirij. Let us i)ut on sad aspects, To (lra\\' him o\\ ; charge home, we'll fetch you off, Or lie dead by you.

£///t'/- TllEODOSIUS.

Theo. How's this ? clou(l^ in the chamber, And the air clear abroad !

Pliil. When you, our sun. Obscure \ our glorious beams, poor we, that borrow Our little light from you, cannot but sutler A general eclij)se.

'J'uit. (ireat sir, 'tis true; E(^r, till you \ lease to know and be yourself, And fieely dare dispose of what's your own, A\ ithout a warrant, we are falling meteors. And not fix'd stars.

Clirtj. The pale-faced muun, that should

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 0,63

Govern the nig'lit, usurps the rule of clay, And still is at the full in spite of nature, And will not know a ehange.

17ico. Speak you in riddles ? I am no (Ed i pus, but your emperor, And as such M^ould be instructed.

Phil. Your command Shall be obey'd : till now, I never heard you Speak like yourself; and may that Power, by

which You are so, strike me dead, if what I shall Deliver as a faithful subject to you. Hath root or growth from malice, or base envy Of your sister's greatness ! I could honour hi her A power subordinate to yours ; but not, As 'tis, predominant.

Thn. Is it fit that slie, In herbirthyourvassal,sliOuld command the knees Of such as should not bow but to yourself?

Grat. She with security walks upon the heads Of the nobility ; the multitude. As to a deity, ofiering sac^'ifice For her grace and, favour.

Chry. Her proud feet even wearied With the kisses of petitioners.

Grat. While you, To whom alone such reverence is proper, Pass unregarded by her.

Tim, You have not yet Been master of one hour of your whole life.

Chry. Your will and faculties kept in more awe Than she can do her own.

Phil. And as a bondman, (O let my zeal find grace, and pardon from you, That I descend so low,) you are design'd To this or that employment, suiting well A private man, I grant, but not a prince.

264 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

To be a perfect horseman, or to know

Tlie words of the chase, or a fair man of arms,

Or to he able to pierce to the deptli,

Or M rite a comment on the obscurest poets,

1 orant are (U-naments ; but your main scoj)e

Slioukl be to i»-overn men, to guard your o\\ n,

If not enlarge your em])ire.

Chrij. You are l)uilt up By the curious hand of nature, to revive The memory of Alexander, or by A prosperous success in your brave actions, To rival Caesar.

Tim. Rouse yourself, and let not Your pleasures be a copy of her \\\\\.

Phil. Your pii])ihige is past, and manly actions Are now. expected from }'ou.

Grut. Do not lose Your sul)jects' hearts.

'Jim. What is"t to have the means To be magnilicent, and not exercise The boundless virtue?

Grut. You con line y*)urself To that which strict philosophy allows of, As if you were a j)ri\ate man.

Tim. No pomp Or glorious shows of royalty rendering it IJoth loved and terrible.

Grat. 'Sliglit ! you li\'e, as it Begets some doubt, whether you have, or not, 'ilic abilities of a man.

Chrij. Tiu- tirniament Hath iu;tmore stars than there arc several i)cauties Ambitious at the height to inij)art their dear And sweetest iri\(>nr-. to you.

Grat. Yet you ha\c not Made ihoici' of oiu', of all the six, to serve you, In a physical way of curlbhip.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 265

Theo. Rut that I would not Begin the expression of my being a man, In blood, or stain the iiist white rol^e I wear Of absolute powder, with a servile imitation Of any tyrannous habit, my just anger Prompts me to make you, in your sufferings, feel, And not in words to instruct you, tliat the license Of the loose and saucy language you now prac- tised Ilath forfeited your heads. Grat. How's this ! Phil. I know not What the play may prove, but I assure you that I do not like the prologue.

Tlieo. O the miserable Condition of a prince; who, though he vary More shapes than Proteus, in his mind and

manners, He cannot win an universal suffrage From the many-headed monster, multitude ! Like iEsop's foolish frogs, they trample on him As a senseless block, if his government be easy ; And, if he prove a s,tork, they croak and rail Against him as a tyrant. — I will put off That majesty, of which you think I have Nor use nor feeling ; and in arguing with you, Convince you with strong proofs of common

reason, And not with absolute power, against which,

wretches, You are not to dispute. Dare you, that are My creatures, by my prodigal favours fashion'd, Presuming on the nearness of your service, Set off with my familiar acceptance, Condemn my obsequiousness to the wise direc- tions Of an incomparable sister, whom all parts

^66 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Of our world, tliat are made liappy in the

knowledge Of lier perfections, with woTider gaze on ? And yet you, that M^ere only born to eat The blessings of our mother earth, that arc Distant but one degree from beasts, (since slaves Can claim no larger ])rivilege, ) that know No further than your sensual appetites, Or wanton lusts, have taught you, undertake To give your sovereign laws to follow that Your ignorance marks out to him ! [Ilalkn hi}.

drat. How Mere we Abused in our opinion of his temper !

Phil, ^\'e had forgot 'tis found in holy writ, That kino-s' hearts are inscrutable.

Tim. I ne'er read it ; j\Iy study lies not that way.

^Phil. By his looks. The tempest still increases.

7'lico. Am I o;rown So stupid, in your judgments, that you dare, M'ith such security, offer violence To sacred majesty ? will you not know The lion is a lion, though he shew not His rending paws, or lill tlu- affrighted air

AV'ith the thunder of his roarings^ Vou bless'd

saints. How am I treiich.cd on ! Is that temperance So famous in your cited Alexander, Or Roman Scipio. a crime in me? Cannot 1 be an emperor, unless Your wives and daugiiters bow to my j)rou(l lusts } And, 'cause I im\ is!i not their fairest buildings And tVuitful viu* sards, or what is dearest, From such as are my ^■assals, must you conclude I do not know the awl'ul |)ower and strength Of my prerogative? Am 1 elose-handed,

THE E^IPEROR OF THE EAST. 257

Because I scatter not among 3^011 that I must not call mine own ? know, you court- leeches, A prince is never so magnificent' As M'hen he's sparing to enrich a few With the injuries of many. Could your hopes So grossly flatter you, as to believe I M'as born and train'd up as an emperor, only In my indulgence to give sanctuary. In their unjust proceedings, to the rapine And avarice of my grooms ?

Phil. In the true mirror Of your perfections, at length we see Our own deformities.

Tim. And not once daring To look upon that majesty we now slighted -

Cltry. With our faces thus glued to the earth, we beg Your gracious pardon.

Grat. Offering our necks To be trod on, as a punishment for our late

hio-w, you court -leeches J

A prince is never so magnificent As when he's sparing to enrich &c.] There is a peculiarity in the use of this Avord, which cannot have escaped the reader's notice. In Massinger it constantly stands for munificent, of which several instances have already occurred : thus, in the Duke of' Milan :

" Yet, not to take

" From others to give only to myself,

" I will not hinder your magnificence

" To my commanders." Act III. sc. i. Again, in the Rcnegado:

" How, like a royal merchant, to return

" You great 'magnificence.'" Act II. sc. iv. Again, in the Parliament of Love, Dinant, upon Novall's givin'' him his purse, exclaims, ^

" Y'ou arc too magnificaU,^^ Act IV. sc, i. And in several other places.

♦GS THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Presumption, and a billing testimony Of our subjection,

7'//to. Deserve our mercy In your better life hereafter; you shall find, Thou2i"h, in my father's life/ I held it madness Tousurj) his power, and in my youth disdain'd not To leaiii from the instructions of my sister, I'll make it i^ood to all the world I am Ati enijjeror ; and even this instant grasp 'I he sceptre, my rich stock of majesty Entire, no scruple "svasted.

Phil. If these tears I drop proceed not from my joy to hear this, May my eyeballs follow them !

I'lm. 1 u ill shew myself. By your sudden metamorphosis, transform'd From what I was.

drat. And ne'er presume to ask What lits not you to give.

Thto. Move in that sj)here, And my light w ith full i)eams shall shine upon you. Forbear this slavish courtship, 'tis to me In a kind idolatrous.

Pliil. Your gracious sister.

* Though y in my falhcr's life, I held it mnilnrst

To usurp hi^ poucr^ \ \Vc imist not look for any very ri^id adhc^rence to datfs in tlu'sc historical dramas; a lew priMniiii'iit fa< N wtTC f^fiicralh ^ci/.i-d on ; and if tl»fsc were distril)uU'(I ainonij the real actors, it « as all the j)oi't aimed at, and all hi* audience expected. At flu- death of Arcadius, Theodosius was a child of seven years old, and was more likely to have passed his time in yonthfiil games with the women, than to havo tho^l^ht of dethronint: his father. At the pi-riod of this si ene. In- was iu his twcutictli )car. I'ulchcria was two or three years • Ider.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 26^

Enter Pulcheria, ami Servant.'

Pul. Has he converted her? 6erx\ And, as such, will Present her, when you please.

Pul. I am glad of it. Command my dresser to adorn her with The robes that I gave order for.

Serv. I shall.

PuL And let those precious jewels I took last Out of my cabinet, if 't be possible, Give lustre to her beauties ; and, that done, Command her to be near us.

Serv. 'Tis a province I Avillingly embrace. ^ [E.vit,

PuL O my dear sir, You have forgot your morning task, and there- fore. With a mother's love, I come to reprehend you; But it shall be gently.

Theo. 'Twill become you, though You said, with reverend duty. Know hereafter. If my mother lived in you, howe'er her son, Like you she were my subject,

PuL Howl

Theo. Put off Amazement; you will find it. Yet FU hear you At distance, as a sister, but no longer As a governess, I assure you.

Grat. This is put home.

Tim, Beyond our hopes.

' Enter Pulcheria, and Servant.] To the speeches of the latter, Mar. is prelixcd instead of Serv. and the going out is, Exit Mart. There is no name ol' this kind among the drainatit) per- sonae ; perhaps it was that of the performer.

270 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Pliil. Slic staT^ds as if his \\'ords Had powerful maii;ick in them.

Thcu. \\\\\ you have me Your pupil ever? the down on my chin Confirms I am a man, a man of men, The emperor, tliat knows Ids strength.

Pid. Heaven "-rant You know it not too soon !

'Jlieo. Let it suffice My wardship's out. If your design concerns u4 7Vs a man, and not a hoy, \vith our allow ance You may deliver it.

Pill. A strange alteration ! r)ut I ^vill not contend. Re as you M'ish, sir, Your own disposer; uncompell d I cancel All l)onds of my authority. [Kfiecis.

Tlico. You in this Pay your due homage, which performed, I thus Emhracc you as a sister; [Juii.sci; /ar.] no way

doubting Your viiiilance for mv safety as my honour; And Mhat you now come to imparl, I lest jNIost confident, points at one of tlicin.

Pill. At both ; And not alone the present, hut the future Tranfjuillity of your mind ; since iu the choice Of her you are to heat with holy lircs. And make the consort of your royal hed, The certain means of glorious succession, With the true ha])piness of our hunian being, Are wholly comprehcndetl.

'J'/ko. How ! a wile ? Shall I become a votary to H\men, Hi tore my Nouth hath sacriliced lo \'enus ? 'Tis sonierhing with the soonest: — yet, to i,lR\r, In things indih'ereut, I am not averse To your wise counsels, let me first survey

THE ElMPEROR OF THE EAST. 2/1

Those beauties, that, in being a prince, I know Are rivals for nic. \^ou will not confine me To your election ; I must see, clear bister, With mine own eyes.

PuL 'Tis fit, sir. Yet, in this. You may please to consider, absolute princes Have, or should have, in policy, less free will Than such as are their vassals : for, you nmst, As you are an emperor, in this high business Weigh with due providence, with whom alliance May be most useful for the preservation Or increase of your empire.

Theo. I approve not Such compositions for our moral ends, In what is in itself divine, nay, more, Decreed in heaven. Yet, if our neighbour princes, Ambitious of such nearness, shall present Their dearest pledges to me, (ever reserving The caution of mine own content,) I. will not Contemn their courteous offers. PuL Bring in the pictures.

[Tzco pictures brought in. Theo. IMust I then judge the substances by the shadows ? The painters are most envious, if they want Good colours for preferment : virtuous ladies Love this way to be flattered, and accuse The workman of detraction, if he add iTot Some grace they cannot truly call their own. Is't not so, Gratianus? you may challenge Some interest in the science. ,

Grat. A pretender To the art, I truely honour, and subscribe To your majesty's opinion,

Theo. Let me see \_R^ads,

Cleanthe, daughter to the king of Epirc,

JEtatis suce, the four teentli: ripe enough,

And forward too, I assure you. Let me examine

272 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

The symmetries. If statuaries could By the foot of Hercules set down punctually His whole dimensions, and the countenance be The index of the mind, this may instruct me, With the aids of that Eve read touching this

subject, What she is inward. The colour of her hair, If it be, as this does promise, pale and faint, And not a glistering white; her brow, so so; The circles of her sight, too much contracted; — Juno's fair cow-eyes by old Homer are Commended to their merit:* here's a sharp frost, In the tij) of her nose, which, by the length, as- sures me Of storms at midnight, if I fail to pay her The tribute she expects. I like her not : What is the other?

Chry. How hath he commenced Doctor in this so sweet and secret art, AV'itliout our knowlcdire r'

* Juno's fair row-p\os hi/ old Ilomcr are

Comtvcinkd to thiir merit :] Massin;;cp Sfoms ploascil with this version of (^owttj?, for he has it in other places. It is how- ever so uncouth a translation, that, to use the laui^ua^e ol' the author's lime, the ladies, 1 suspect, "■ conueil Iiini liltli- thanks lor it." Homer's i)eace is easily made: we nia\ \enfnre to allirm that in ai)plyin<T the ejiithet to his poddes>, he thout^ht as little ot" likeninii her eyes to a row's as to tiiose ot any other animal, he n)erely meant large or rather Jull cyts: 'Oix.r.f'^- t.-

BOnniN avTr>¥ ixaXccri. LtiiAN. So the wi)rd sho\ild i)e trans. Jated. and so. indeed, it is trauMlated l)v Beaumont and Tletc her in ///(• 7uo iiol>/c Kiiiiiin/i.

7 Chry. Hon hath he rommenred Doctor in this w sweet ami secret art; l\'ithout our k)n>uleil^,i-/ \ Thu^ Klelrher:

"• ('(inie, iloilor j\\n\rv\\ ^ without ili-ijulaliOH '• Tliiin shalt eommenee in tin- (rll.ir." 'ih- Elder lirothrr. This fondness lor the introdiirlinn of college lan^uui;o has bei^n already noticed : sec \ ol 1. p. .'JOG.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 9.1'^

Tim. Some of his forward pages Have robbed us of the honour.

Phil. No sucli matter; He has the theory only, not the practick.'

Theo. {reads. '\ Amasia^ sister to the duke of Athens; Her age eighteen, descended lineally From Theseus, as by her pedigree IVill be made apparent. Of his lusty kindred, And lose so much time ! 'tis strange ! — as I live,

she hath A philosophical aspect ; there is More wit than beauty in her face ; and, when I court her, it must be in tropes, and figures. Or she will cry. Absurd!' she will have her

elenchs* To cut off any fallacy I can hope

^ Hs has the theory only, not the practick.] Mr. M. Mason reads practice. All the copies that I have consulted, and I have con- sulted several, concur in givmg practick ; and this was the Ian- guage of Massinger's age.

9 Or she will cry.. Absurd!] Theodosius is here got into his logical phraseology. Absurdefacis, or absurdt colligis, is a term used in disputation, when false conclusions are drawn from the opponent's premises. The expression occurs in the Elder Brother : Do they (i. e. " acaderaicks.")

" Do they know any thing but a tired hackney ?

*' And then they cry Absurd! as the horse understood them." This Theobald calls nonsense: it is, however, the absurd^ facis of the schools; and is meant to ridicule that perverse and awkward pedantry which applies the language of art to the trifling occurrences of common life.

* She will have her elenchs] So the old copy: poor Coxeter, who seems to have forgotten his logick, as well as his Greek, not knowing what to make of this word, altered it to clenches ! the most unfortunate term that he could have chosen. Mr. M. !Mason, very much to the credit of his '• accuracy," continued the blunder, of course; though how a clench^ of which the pro- perty is tojix or conjirm an argument, is to destroy it, he did not think proper to enquire. Elench (from iXiy/u) is a sophistical refutation of a pptitiou maiutained by an opponent. VOL. III. T

274 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

To put upon her, and expect I should

Ever conclude in sylloe;i.sins, and those true ones

In parte tt toto ; or she'll tire nic with

Her tedious elocutions in the praise of

The increase of generation, for which

Alone, the sport, in her morality,

Is good and lawful, and to be often practised

For fear of missing. Fie on't! let the race

Of Theseus he matched with Aristotle's :

I'll none of her.

Pill. You are curious in your choice, sir, And hard to please; yet, if that your consent May give authority to it, I'll present you With one, that, if her birth and fortunes answer The rarities* of her body and her mind, Detraction durst not tax her.

Theo. Let me see her, Though wanting those additions, which we can Supply from our own store : it is in us To make men rich and noble ; but to give Legitimate shapes and virtues docs belong To the great Creator of them, to m hose bounties Alone 'tis proper, and in this disdains An emperor for his rival.

Pul. I applaud This fit acknowledgment; since princes then Grow less than conunou men, when they contend With him, by whom they are so.

Enter Paulinus, Cleov, and Athesais ric/i/j/

ha/ntcJ. Theo. I confess it.

Pul. Not to h(dd you in suspense, behold the virgin,

^ U'if/i one, that, if fur liiit'i and furtiuif answor I'lte rarities Sec. \ So r< ail (lie old cupifs, and so reads Co.xt'tcr; lor a/uucr Mr. M. Alasoii. to bpoil u pretty paiisagej

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST, 275

Rich ill her natural beauties, no way borrowing Tlie adulterate aids of art. Peruse her better ; She's worth your serious view.

Phil. I am amazed too ; I never saw her equal.

Grat. How his eye Is fix'd upon her !

Tim. And, as she were a fort He'd suddenly surprise, he measures her From the bases to the battlements.

Chry. Ha ! now I view her better, I know her; 'tis the maid that not long since Was a petitioner; her bravery So alters her, I had forgot her face.

Phil. So has the emperor.

Paul. She holds out yet, And yields not to the assault.

Clt. She's strongly guarded In her virgin blushes.

Paul. When you know, fair creature, It is the emperor that honours you With such a strict survev of your sweet parts, In thankfulness you cannot but return Due reverence for the favour.

Athen. I was lost In my astonishment at the glorious object, And yet rest doubtful whether he expects, Being more than man, my adoration, Since sure there is divinity about him: Or will rest satisfied, if my humble knees In duty thus bow to him.

Theo. Ha ! it speaks.

Put. She is no statue, sir.

1

chooses to print answered! but indeed he has corrupted all this ^

scene; in the next speech, ior our own storcj he has our itore, ^

■which utterly subverts the metre. I

T 2 ]

276 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

77/(0. Suppose her one, And that she liacl nor organs, voice, nor heat, j\Iost willinsi;ly I wouhl resign my empire, So it might be to attertimes recorck'd That I wds her Pygmalion; tliouoli like liim, I {h)tetl on my workmanship, without hope too Of having Cytherea so propitious To my vows or sacrifice, in her compassion To give it life or motion.

Pul. Pray yon, be not rapt so, Nor borrow from imaginary fiction Impossible aids: she's th\sh and blood, I assure vou; And if you please to honour her in tbe trial, And be your omu security, as you'll find I fable not, she comes in a noble way To be at your devotion.

Chry. "Tis the maid 1 offered to your highness; her changed shapr Conceafd her from you:

Theo. At the first I knew her, And a second firebrand Cupid itrings, to kindle My flames almost put out: I am too cold. And jday with opportunity. — May I taste then The nectar of her lip? — \ Kisses her.] — 1 do not

"ive it The praise it merits: antiquity is too poor To helj) me with a simile to exj)ress her: Let me tlrink often from this li\iug spring, To nourisli new invention.

I* id. Do not surfeit In ovci-Lrreediiy devourinii' that Which may Mithout satiety feast V'n olun. I'rnm the moderation in receiving them, 'ilu- thoiecNt viands do continue pleasing To the most curious i)alatcs. If you think hei. Woith your ( inhraces, and the sovereign title Of ilic Grecian Empress

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 277

TJico. If! how mucli you sin, Only to doubt it; the possession of her Makes all that was before most precious to nie, Common and cheap : in this you've shewn yourself A provident protectress. I already Grow weary of the absolute command Of my so numerous subjects, and desire No sovereignty but here, and write down gladly A period to my wishes,

FuL Yet, before It be too late, consider her condition ; Her father was a pagan, she herself A new-converted Christian.

Theo. Let me know The man to whose religious means I owe So great a debt.

Paul. You are advanced too hiofh, sir. To acknowledge a beholdingness ; 'tis discharged, And I beyond my hopes rewarded, if My service please your majesty.

Theo. Take this pledge Of our assured love. Are there none here Hav^ suits to prefer? on such a day as this

i\Iy bounty's without limit. O my dearest!

I will not hear thee speak; whatever in

Thy thoughts is apprehended, I grant freely :

Thou wouldst plead thy unworthiness. By thyself, I

The magazine of felicity, in thy lowness \

Our eastern queens, at their full height, bow to

thee, And are, in their best trim, thy foils and shadows ! Excuse the violence of my love, which cannot Admit the least delay. Command the patriarch With speed to do his holy office for us, That, when we are made one

Fill. You must forbear, sir ; She is not yet baptized.

278 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Theo. Ill tlic same liour In which she is conlinned in our fuith, W'e niutuallv will G:ive awav each other, And both be gainers; \\c\\ liear no reply That may divert us. On.

Pul. Vou may hercatter Please to remember to m hose furtherance You owe this height of happiness.

A then. As I was Your creature when I first petitioned you, I will continue so, and you shall lint! me, Though an empress, still your servant.

[^All go ojf"' but Fhilana.r, Gratianus, and 'J'i//ianti/s.

Graf. Here's a marriage Made up o' the sudden !

F///L I rcj)ine not at The fair maid's foitune, tliough I fear the princess Had some peculiar end in't.

yh/L ^\'ho's so simple Only to doubt it ?

Grat. It is too apparent ; She hath j)referr*d a creature of her own. By whose means she may still keep to herself The government of the empire.

Tim. \\ hereas, if Tile emperor had esj)Oused some neiglibour queen, Pulcheria, with all her wisdom, could not Keejj iier pre-eminence.

Pint, lie it as it will, 'Tis not now to be alter"d. Heaven, I say, 'J urn all to the best !

Grat. Are we come to praying again ?

3

All go ojfhut Phitnimx., ^'C. ] So llu" old ( ojiiis. Coxotor, (a let '^ ills rru(liii|r and writing appear," traii>>lah'.s i( into I^atin and prints, Alt rxit but Vhilamix., \c. and tin- most cornet ol i-di- tofb lollu\« 3 iiini ! f

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 279

Phil. Leave thy profaneness. Grat. Would it would leave me ! " I am sure I thrive not by it, Thn. Come to the temple. Graf. Even where you will — I know not what to think on't. [Exeunt,

ACT HL SCENE I.

A Room in the Palace. Enter Paulinus andl^niLANAx.

Paul. Nor this, nor the age before us, ever look'd on The like solemnity,

Phil. A sudden fever Kept me at home. Pray you, my lord, acc^uaint

me With the particulars.

Paul. You may presume No pomp nor ceremony could be wanting, Where there was privilege to command, and means To cherish rare inventions.

Phil. I believe it ; But the sum of all in brief.

Paul. Pray you, so take it : Fair Athenais, not long since a suitor, And almost in her hopes forsaken, first Was christen'd, and the emperor's mother's name, Eudocia, as he wilFd, imposed upon her;

* JVouldit -woiM leave me !'] So the old copy : the modern edi- tors, without regard to sense or metre, read, ff^ould it leave me.

<:8o THE p:mpeiioii of the east.

Pulcheria, the ever-matchless princess, Assisted by her reverend aunt Maria, Her godmothers,

Phil. And who the masculine witness?*

Paul. At the new empress' suit, Iliad the honour; For which I must ever serve her.

PJiil. Twas a grace With justice you may boast of.

Paul. The marriage foUow'd ; And, as 'tis said, the emperor made bold To turn the day to night; for to bed they went As soon as they had dined, and there are wagers Laid by some merry lords, he hath already Begot a boy upon her.

Phil. That is yet To be determined of; but I am certain A prince, so soon in his disposition alter'd, Was never heard nor read of.

Paul. But of late, Frugal and sparing, now nor bounds nor limits To his magnificent bounties. He atVirnfd, Having received :nore blessings by his empress Than he could hope, in thankfulness to heaven He cannot be too prodigal to others. Whatever's offer'd to his royal hand, He signs without perusing it.

J Phil. ^/»/ 7i^o ///«' masniliiie witness ?] And \\\\o the tnatr sponsor'^ S(» the won! is iVequently used by our aiitlior and Ikis f(Miteniporuries, in ridieule, as it should seem, ol' tiie puritans. 'I'hub Jonson :

'■' And that, as puritans at baptism do. " Tliou ait the lather, and tlie xntiiiss too." ^"P'-i- '»'''

Apain :

lii/ar. His Christian-name is Zeal-of-the-land ?

Lit. Vi'S, sir, Zeal-of-the-lai\d IJusy.

jriii-w. How! M hat a nunw's tlu-re. !

/,//. (), they have all such names, sir; he Masu'jV««A5 for Win, heif, - tJii-y will not be called ^'y(//a//fi7A'. Inii t huhmixc l\in .

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 281

Phil I am here Enjoin'd to free all such as lie for debt. The creditors to be paid out of his coffers,

Paul. And I all malefactors that are not Convicted or for treason or foul murder; Such only are excepted.

Pliil. Tis a rare clemency !

Paul. Which we must not dispute, but put in practice. [E.veunt.

SCENE II.

Another Room in the same.

Loud Musich ; Shouts within: Heaven preserve the Emperor ! Heaven bless the Empress ! Then enter in state, the Patriarch, Chrysapius, pAULiNUS, Theodosius, Eudocia, Pulche- RiA ; Arcadia and Flaccilla, bearing up Eudocia's train ; followed bi/ Philanax, G ra- ti anus, and TiMAisi TVS. Several Suitors pre- sent petitions to the Emperor, which he seals.

Pul. Sir, by your own rules of philosophy, You know things violent last not. Royal bounties Are great and gracious, while they are dispensed With moderation ; but, when their excess In giving giant-bulks to others, takes from The prince's just proportion, they lose The name of virtues, and, their natures changed, Grow the most dangerous vices.

Theo. In this, sister, Your wisdom is not circular;* they that sow In narrow bounds, cannot expect in reason A crop beyond their ventures : what I do

* Theo. In this, sister.

Your wisdom is not circular ;] A pedantick expression worthy of Jonson : Your wisdom is not full and perfect.

282 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Disperse, I lend, and will with usury

Return unto my heap. I only then

Am rich and happy (though my coffers sound

Witli emptiness) when my glad sul)jects feel

Their plenty and tehcity is my gift;

Antl they will find, when they with cheerfulness

Supj)ly not my defects, I heing the stomach

To tile j)olitick hody of the state, the limbs

Grow suddenly faint and feeble: I could uro-e

Proofs of more fineness in their shape and langua<'-e,

But none of greater strength. — Dissuade me not ;

What we Mill, we will do; yet, to assure you

Your care does not oftend us, foi- an hour

Be happy in the converse of my best

And dearest comfort. May you please to license

My privacy some few minutes?

Kud. License, sir ! I have no will but is derived from yours, And that still waits upon you ; nor can I Be left with such security with any As with the gracious princess, who receives Addition, though she Ijc all excellence, In being styled your sister. 'J'heo. O sweet creature ! Let me be censured fond, and too indulgent. Nay, though they say uxorious, I care not — Her love and sweet humility exact A tribute far above my power to pay Her matchless goodness. Forward.

[F/ourish, Kix'ioit all hut Pulcfwria, Eudocia, Arcadui, and Flaccilla. Pal. Now you fnid Your dying fathers j)ro|)hecy, that foretold Your present greatness, to the full acconiplishd, For the j)oor aids and furtherance 1 lent yon, J willingly forget.

F.ud. Even that binds me

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 283

To a more strict remembrance of the favour; Nor shall you, from my foul ingratitude, In any circumstance, ever find cause To upbraid me with your benefit,

Pul. I believe so. Pray you, give us leave : — [Arcadia and Flaccilla

walk aside. \ — What now I must deliver Under the deepest seal of secrecy, 1 hough it be for your good, will give assurance Of what is look'd for, if you not alone Hear, but obey my counsels.

End. Ihey must be Of a strange nature, if with zealous speed I put them not in practice.

Pul. 'Twere im]>ertinencc To dv, ell on circun,stances, since the wound Requires a sudden cure ; especially Since you, that are the happ}^ instrument Elected to it, though young, in your judgment Write far above your years, and may instruct Such as are more experienced.

Eud. Good madam, In this I must oppose you ; I am well Acquainted with my Aveakness, and it will not Become your wisdom, by which I am raised To this titulary height, that should correct The pride and overweening of my fortune, To play the parasite to it, in ascribing That merit to me, unto which I can Pretend no interest; pray you, excuse My bold simplicity, and to my weight Design me where you please, and you shall find, In my obedience, I am still your creature.

Pul. Tis nobly answer'd, and I glory in The building I have raised : go on, sweet lady, In this your virtuous progress : but to the point. You know, nor do I envy it, you have

284 THE EMPEROR OE THE EAST.

Acquired that power Mhich, not long since, was

mine, In governing the emperor, and must use The stren«;th vou hold in the heart of his aftec-

tions, Eor his private, as the publick preservation, To which there is no greater enemy Than his exorbitant prodigality, Howe'er his sycophants and flatterers call it Royal magnificence ; and though you' may Urge what's done for your honour must not be Curb'd or controU'd by you, you cannot in Your wisdom but conceive, if that the torrent Of his violent bounties be not stopp'd or lessen'd. It will prove most pernicious. Therefore, madam, Since 'tis your duty, as you are his wife. To give him saving counsels, and in being Almost his idol, may command him to Take any shape you please, with a powerful hand To stop him in his precipice to ruin

End. Avert it, heaven '

Pill. Heaven is most gracious to you, In choosing you to be the instrument Of such a pious w ork. You sec lie signs What suit soever is preferred, not once Encjuiring what it is, yielding himself A prey to all ; I would, therefore, have you, lady, As I know you will, to advisehim,orcomman(l hiui, As he would reap the plenty of your favours, To use more motleration in his bounties; And that, before he gives, he would consider The what, to whom, and wherctore.

l-liid. Do you tiiink Such arrogance, or usur|)alion rather,

7 (///(/ tiioir^h you »;<;//] So the old

copies, and rit:,htly: ihc modern editors read — and l/njUi^/t ho WMi/ ; wIulIi abbohitfly destroys the author'^ nicaiiiiig.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 285

Of what is proper and peculiar

To every private husband, and much more

To liim, an emperor, can rank with the obedience

And duty of a wife ? Are we appointed

In our creation (let me reason w^ith you)

To rule, or to obey ? or, 'cause he loves me

With a kind impotence, must I tyrannize

Over his weakness, or abuse the strength

AVith which he arms me, to his wrong ? or, like

A prostituted creature, merchandize

Our mutual delight for hire, or to

Serve mine own sordid ends ? In vulgar nuptials

Priority is exploded, though there be

A difference in the parties ; and shall I,

His vassal, from obscurity raised by him

To this so eminent light, presume t' appoint

him To do, or not to do, this, or that ? When wives Are well accommodated by their husbands, With all things both for vise and ornament, ^.et them fix there, and never dare to question Their wills or actions : for myself, I vow, Though now my lord would rashly give away His sceptre and imperial diadem, Or if there could be any thing more precious, I would not cross it: — but I know this is But a trial of my temper, and as such I do receive it; or, if't be otherwise, You are so subtile in your arguments, I dare not stay to hear them. [Offers to 7Xtire.

Pul. Is it even so ? I have powder o'er these yet, and command their

stay, To hearken nearer to me. Arcad. We are charged By the emperor, our brother, to attend Tlie empress' service.

£36 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Flac. You are too niortificil, sister, (With reverence 1 speak it,) tor yoiuig ladies To keep you company. I am so tired W'itli your tedious exhortations, (k)ctrines, uses, Of your reliujious morality,"

That, tor my health's sake, I must take thciVeedQin To enjoy a little of those pretty' pleasures V^ That I was horn to. ■ ArciuL M'hen I come to your vcars, Ell do as you do; hut, till then, with your pardon, Ell lose no more time. 1 have not learn'd to

dance yet, Nor sini>-, hut hol^ ' vmns, and those to vile tunes

too ; Nor to discourse but of schoolmen's opinions. How shall I answer jii} suitors, since, I hope,

' I aw so tired

With your icdioita cx'/tortatiuns, d n'fritU'S, uses, Of your religious moralify,] Thcoc lines ktuuii thu> in Coxeter and M. Mason :

/ {,m so tired

With your tedious exhortations, doctriiun, U.ses of i/oiir religious mvyiaUty. To say nothing of tlu- i.ial disreiiaid of nu'tn*, it is ciaiiilVsf that tlic srnse was al'ogether overlooked, i vcv, Aviiicli tlu-y coiin«ct with the lollowinu words, is a distinct expression, adojiti'd, by our old draniati:?fH, from thi' puritans, who usually diviihd their discouiSfs info '/(/i(''v/;f.s and .vvr v ; by the former oluliiili tlu'v meant the evplunution of their stibjoet, and by the latter, the practical inferences araw.. from i'.. Thus, in the Or- dinary, by (Jartwright: Aiidicw says:

" lleie's no proofs,

" So doctrines^ nor no ll^^s ; tutor. I " Would lain learn some religion." Aud in tht Mdi^nrtieli J.i/ili/, by Jonson :

•■ I'lie paison has an edilyiiui st(,mach, " And .1 persuadinji; palate, like In-, name; " lie hi'h bt'uun three drau^h^» of sack in <loctriurs, " And four in us .\." V 'J'o nijtiy a lit'le of thihtr prvtts /'/mstircs] Pntfi/, whul» Completes the verse, is nut to be luund in *Mi. M. Mason.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 287

Ere long I shall have many, without practice To write, and speak, something that's not derived From the fatliers of philosophy ?

Flac. We shall shame Our breeding, sister, if we should go on thus.

Arcad. 'Tis for your credit that we study How to converse with men ; women with women. Yields but a barren argument.

Flac, She frowns

But you'll protect us, madam ?

Eitd. Yes, and love Your sweet simplicity.

Arcad. All young girls are so, Till they know the way of it.*

Flac. But, when we are enter'd, We shall on a good round pace.

Eud. I'll leaV'C you, madam.

Arcad. And we our duties with you. . I

[E.eeu?it Eudocia, Arcadia, and Fiacill-a. \

Pul. On all hands Thus slighted ! no way left " Am I grown stupid In my invention ? can I make no use Of the emperor's bounties.? — Now 'tis thought;: within, there \

Enter an Attendant.

Att. Madam.

Pid. It shall be so : — nearer ; your ear. — Draw a petition to this end. Att. Besides

* Arcad. All young girls are %0t

'Till they know the way of it.~\ i.e. simple. Thps^e tv^o lines, without which the next speech cannot b.^ understood, are wholly omitted in the " correctest of all editions," and several other passages miserably mangled and corrupted, both in the printing and pointing.

9S8 THE EMPEROR OE THE EAST.

The danger to prefer it, I believe 'Twill ne'er be <i;rantecl.

Pill. I low's tliis ! are you grown, Erom a servant, my director? let me hear No more of this. Dispatch; [E.i'il Jttendant.^ I'll

master him At his own weapon.

Enter TriEODOsrus, Paulinis,* Philanax, T I M A X T u s, and Cr u a t i a n u s.

Theo. Let me understand it, If yet there be aught wanting that may perfect A general happiness.

Paul. The people's joys In seas of acclamations flow in, To wait on yours.

Phil. Their love, with bounty le\ie(l, Is a sure guard : obedience forced from fear, Paper ftntification, which, in danger, Will vield to the impression of a reed, Or of itself fall otf

Thco. True, Philanax ; And by that certain comj)ass wc resolve To steer our bark of government.

7ie-r?//rr Attendant ;.•//// the petit ion.

Pal. Tis well.

'J'hco. My dearest and my all-deserving sister As a petitioner kneel ! It must not be.

* Enter TifKODosii;^, l*\i i.ini s, iVr.] All llip ropifii roaii. Enter Tlu'()d().>)iiii, I'inonnus., Sic.: but as tliis Favorimi;> aj)- jxars not iit tlii' list of dramatis persona*, nor in any other part ot tilt- play, I have little doubt l)ut that it is a misprint tor r^ulinus, and have regulated the entrance accordingly.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 28y

Pray you, rise ; although your suit were half my

empire, 'Tis freely granted.

Pul. Your alacrity To give hath made a beggar ; yet, before My suit is by your sacred hand and seal Confirmed, 'tis necessary you peruse The sum of my request.

Theo. We will not wrong Your judgment in conceiving what 'tis fit For you to ask, and us to grant, so much. As to proceed with caution; give me my signet : With confidence I sign it, and here vov/ By my father's soul, but' with your free consent, It is irrevocable.

Tim. AVhat if she now, Calling to memory how often we Have cross'd her government, in revenge hatli

made Petition for our heads ?

Grat. They must even off then ; No ransome can redeem us.

Theo. Let those jewels So highly rated by the Persian merchants. Be bought, and, as a sacrifice from us, Presented to Eudocia, she being only Worthy to wear them. I am angry with The unresistible necessity Of my occasions and important cares. That so long keep me from her.

[Ed^eunt Theodosius, Paidimis, FhUanai\ Timantus, and Gratianus.

Pul. Go to the empress, And tell her, on the sudden I am sick, And do desire the comfort of a visit, If she please to vouchsafe it. From me use

' but -with your free consent.

It is irrevocable.] i. e. except, tmless v/ith your free consent, &c. VOL. III. IT

2i)0 THE EMPEROR OE THE EAST.

Your luimblcst language — [Kjit Atlendant.'] but,

\\ hen once 1 lui\ c her In my possession, I Avill rise and speak In a liiglier strain : say it raise storms, no matter ; Fools judge l)v the event, m\ ends are lionest.

SCENE HE

Another Room in I he ^ame. jK;//tr TiiEODosius, Timantus, and Puilanax.

'Jlicu. What is become of her? Can j^he, tliat carries Such tilorious excellence of liiiht about lier, lie any m here conceal'd ?

Phil, ^^'e have sought her lodgings, And all we can learn from the servants, is, She, by your majesty's sisters waited on, The attendance of her other officers. By her express command, denied

Tlico. Forbear Impeitinent circumstances, — Mhitlier Mcnt she? speak.

Phil. As they guess, to tlie laurel grove.

Theo. So slightly guarded ! What an earthquake I feel in me ! and, but that Reliiiion assures the contrarv, The poets' dreams of lustful fauns and satyrs Would make me fear I know not what.

Enter Paumnis.*

Paul. I have found her, An it j)lease your majesty.

'Jhe(f. Yes, it doth please mc; But M by returnd without her?

* Kntir Paujinls.] Sd the oUl copies. Thf modtrn i(lii<)i>

THE ElMPEROR OF THE EAST: 291

Paul, As she made Her speediest approaches to your presence, A serv ant of the princess's, Pulcheria, Encountered her: what 'twas he whisper'd to her I am ignorant ; but hearing it, she started, And M'iird me to excuse her absence from you The third part of an hour.

Theo. In tliis she takes So much of my hfe from me; yet, I'll bear it With what patience I may, since 'tis her pleasure. Go back, my good Paulinus,* and entreat her Not to exceed a minute.

Tim. Here's strange fondness ! [E.irunt.

SCENE IV.

Another Room in the same. £w/er7PuLCHERiA rt-w/ Servants.

Till. You are certain she will come ?

1 Serv. She is already Enter'd your outward lodgings.

Put. No train with her ?

1 Serx). Your excellence' sisters only.

Pul. 'Tis the better. See the doors strongly guarded, and deny Access to all, but with our special license :

(it is impossible io say why) read, enter Taxorhus^ though the Servant, a little below, says,

" The prince Paulinus, madam, ^ *' Sent from the emperor," &c.

^ Go backy my good Paulinus,] Coxeter and M. Mason, in consequence of their absurd departure from the old copies, and substitution of one name for another, are obliged to omit goofJ, and read, Go back, my Favorinus ! Fudct, pudet.

U 2

C9^ THE EMPEPvOll OF THE EAST.

Why dost thou stay ? shew your (obedience, Your wisdom now is useless. [E.ieunt Servants.

Enter Eudocia, Arcadia, (uid Flaccilla.

Flac. She is sick, sure. Or, in fit reverence to your majesty, She had waited you at the door.

Arcad. 'Twoukl hardly he [Pii/c/ieriawalliin<j; hjj. Excused, in civil manners, to her ecjual : Ihit with more dilhculty to you, that are So far above her.

Eud. Not in her opinion; She hath been too long- accustom'd to command. To acknow ledge a superiour. Arcad. There she walks.

Flac. If she be not sick of the sullens, I see not The least infirmity in her. End. This is strange ! Arcad. Open your eyes ; the empress. Pal. Reach that chair : Now, sitting thus at distance, I'll vouchsafe To look upon her.

Arcad. How, sister ! pray you, awake ; Are you in your wits r

Viae. Grant, heaven, your too much learning Does not conclude in madness !

End. You entreated A \isit from me.

PuL True, my servant used Such language ; l)ut now, as a mistress, 1 Connnand your service. End. Service !

Arcad. She's stark mad, sure. Pal. You'll (ind I can dispose ot" whals mine own, "Without a liuardian.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 293

End. Follow me. — I will see you When your frantick fit is o'er. — I do begin To be of your belief.

Pul. It will deceive you. Thou shalt not stir from hence: — thus, as mine

own, I seize upon thee.

Flac. Help, help ! violence Oifer'd to the empress' person !

Pul. 'Tis in vain : She was an empress once, but, by my gift ; Which being abused, I do recall my grant. You are read in story ; call to your remembrance What the great Hector's mother, Hecuba, W^as to Ulysses, Ilium sack'd.

End. A slave.

Pul. To me thou art so.

Eud. Wonder and amazement Quite overwhelm me : how am I transform'd ? How have I lost my liberty? [Knocki?ig within.

Pul. Thou shalt know Too soon, no doubt.

Enter a Servant.

Who's that, that with such rudeness Beats at the door ?

Serv. The prince Paulinus, madam ; Sent from the emperor, to attend upon The gracious empress.

Arcad. And who is your slave now ?

Flac. Sister, repent in time, and beg a pardon For your presumption.

Pul. It is resolved ; From me return this answer to Paulinus, She shall not come; she'smine; the emperor hath No interest in her. [Exit Servant.

^29-^ THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Eiul. "Whatsoe'er I am, You take not from your power o'er me, to yield A reason for this usa^-e.

FuL Thouc'li mv will is Sufficient, to add to thy affliction. Know, wretched thing, 'tis not thy fate, but folly, Hath made thee what thou art : 'tis some delight To urge my merits to one so ungrateful; Therefore with horrour hear it. When thou Mert Thrust, as a stranger, from thy father's house. Exposed to all cahmiitie.s that M'ant Coukl throw upon thee, thine own brothers" scorn, And in thy hopes, as by the world, forsaken. My pity the last altar that was left thee, I heard\hy Syren charms, with feeling heard them, And my compassion made mine eyes vie tears With thine, dissembling crocodile ! and when

queens Were emulous for thv imperial bed, The garments of thy sorrows cast aside, I ])ut thee in a shajK;* as M'ould have forced Envy from Cleopatra, had she seen thee. Then, when 1 knew my breather's blood was warm'd A\ltb youthful iircs, 1 brought thee to iiis presence ; And how my decj) designs, for tliy good plotted. Succeeded to my wishes, is a})parent. And needs no repetition.

Em/. I am conscious Of your so many and unecpiaird favours; Jhit lind not how 1 may accuse in\>ell Tor any facts committed, tbat, with justice. Can raise your anger to this height against me. J'li/. l*ride and forgetfulness would not let thee see tbat, Against wliii Ii new thou canst not close thy eyes.

*• / jiiit f/iri ill a shape kc.'\ i. v. a magnificent drcbs, li.ibi» Alliidini; to her diiettions to the servant, i>. 'iOO.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 295

What injury could be equal to thy late Contempt of my good counsel ? When I urged The emperor's prodigal bounties, and entreated That you would use your power to give them

limits, Or, at the least, a due consideration Of such as sued, and for what, ere he sign'd it; In opposition, you brought against me The obedience of a wife, that ladies were not, Being well accommodated by their lords. To question, but much less to cross, their

pleasures ; Nor would you, though the emperor were resolved To give away his sceptre, hinder it. Since 'twas done for your honour; covering, with False colours of humility, your ambition. Eud. And is this my offence ? Pill. As wicked counsel Is still most hurtful unto those that give it ; Such as deny to follow what is good, In reason, are the first that must repent it. When I please, you shall hear more ; in the mean

time. Thank your own wilful folly, that hath changed

you From an empress to a bondwoman. Theo. \within.^^ Force the doors ; Kill those that dare resist.

Enter Theodosius, Paulinus, Philanax, Chrysapius, 6t/2t/ Gratianus.

End. Dear sir, redeem me.

Flac. O suffer not, for your own honour's sake, The empress, you so late loved, to be made A prisoner in the court.

•29^ THE EMPErxOR OF THE EAST.

yJrcr/d. Leap to liis lips, "^ ou'll find tlieni the best sanctuary.

/'7</r. And try tlicn, What interest my reverend sister hatli To force you from tliem.

lyieo. What strange May-game's this ? Though done in sport, how ill this levity Becomes your wisdom ?

Pui. I am serious, sir, And have done nothing but what you in honour. And as you are yourself an emj)eror, Stand bound to justify.

7'//e(>. Take heed ; put not these Strange trials on my patience.

PuL Do not you, sir, Deny your own act : As you are a man. And stand on your own bottom, 'twill appear A childish weakness to make void a irrant Sign'd by your sacred hand and seal, ond

strengtheu'd A\ ith a religious oath, but with my license Never to be recalfd. For some few minutes Let reason rule your passion, and in this

[Dclive7\s the deal. Ijc pleased to read m\' interest: you will find

there, ^\'hat you in me call violence, is justice. And that I may make use of M'hat's mine own. According- to my wilL "Tis your own gift, sir; And what an cmj)eror gives, should stand as lirm As the celestial poles upon the shoulders Of Atlas, or his successor in that ofiice, I'he great Abides.

'J'lifo. Miseries of more w ei«rht Than "lis I'eign'd the\- siijiported, l.ill upon mc. W hat hath m\ rasjniess done ! In i hi^ 1 1 an sac t ion.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 297

Drawn in express and formal terms, I have

Given and consigned into your hands, to use

And, observe, as you please, my dear Eudocia !

It is my deed, I do confess it is,

And, as I am myself, not to be cancell'd :

But yet you may shew mercy — and you will.

When you consider that there is no beauty

So perfect in a creature, but is soil'd

With some unbeseeming blemish. You have

labour'd To build me up a complete prince, 'tis granted ; Yet, as I am a man, like other monarchs I have defects and frailties ; my facility To send petitioners with pleased looks from me, Is all I can be charged with ; and it will Become your wisdom, (since 'tis in your power,) In charity to provide I fair no further Or in my oath, or honour.

Pul. Royal *sir, This was the mark I aim'd at, and I glory At the length, you so conceive it: 'twas a weak- ness To measure by your own integrity The purposes of others. I have shewn you, In a true mirror, what fruit grows upon The tree of hoodwink'd bountv, and what dan-

gers Precipitation, in the managing Your great aifairs, produceth.

Theo. I embrace it As a PTave advertisement, and vow hereafter Never to sign petitions at this rate.

Pul. For mine, see, sir, 'tis cancell'd; on my knees

^ 7 fall 7W further'] Here, as in several other places, Mr. M. Mason substitutes /«// for /«//, though the latter be manifestly the better word, and, what is of more importance, the author's.

298 THE EMPEROR OE THE EAST.

I re-dcliver what I nuw bcggd tVojn you.

[Tears the iked. She is my second gift.'

Tlu'o. Which if I part from Till death divorce us [Kisses Eudocia,

End. So, sir !

Theo. Nay, sweet, chide not, I am punish'd in thy looks; defer the rest, Till we are more ])rivate.

Fid. I ask pardon too, If, in my personated ])assion, I Appear'd too harsh and rough.

End. "Twas gentle language, ■^^'hat I was then consider'd

Pill. O, dear madam, It was decorum in the scene.

Eud. This trial, A\'hen I was Athenais, might have passd. But as I am the empress

77/(0. Nay, no anger, Since all good was intended.

[Exeunt 'J'/ieodosins, Endocia, Jrcadiiiy and Flaccilla.

Pal. Ruilding on That certain base, I fear not w hat can follow.

[E^it.

Paul. These arc strange devices, Phihinax. /'I/il. True, my lord. May all turu to the best !

Oral. The emperor's looks Promised a calm.

C/irj/. Ihit the vex'd empress' frowns Presaged a second storm.

Paul. 1 am sure I feel one In ni\ leg alrcad\.

» She M nil/ second g///.] i. o. (though (lu' mode of cxprossion it rather incorrect,) she is now i^ivon to you, l»> mo, aitiond time.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 299

Phil. Your old friend, the gout ?

Puul. My forced companion, Philanax.

Cliry. To your rest.

Paul. Rest, and forbearing wine, with a tempe- rate diet, Thougli many mountebanks pretend the cure oft, I have found my best physicians.

PhiL Ease to your lordship. [Eieunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter Eudocia and Chrysapius.

Eud. Make me her property !

Chri). Your majesty Hath just cause of distaste; and your resentment Of the affront, in the point of honour, cannot But meet a fair construction.

Eud. I have only The title of an empress, but the power Is by her ravish'd from me : she surv^eys My actions as a governess, and calls My not observing all that she directs, Folly and disobedience.

Chry. Under correction. With grief I've long observed it; and, if you Stand pleased to sign my warrant, I'll deliver, In my unfeign'd zeal and desire to serve you, (Howe'er I run the hazard of my head for't, Shonld it arrive at the knowledge of the princess,) Not alone the reasons why things are thus carried,

:500 THE EMPEUOR OF THE EAST.

Rut give into your hands the power to clip Tlie wings of her command.

End. Your service this m ay Cannot offend me.

Clirji. lie you pleased to know, tlien, But still with pardon, if I am too boUl. Your too much sufferance imps the broken fea- thers Which carry her to this proud height, in which She with security soars, and still towers o'er you : But if vou would emplov the strengths you hold' In the emperor's affections, and remember The orb you move in should admit no star else. You never would confess, the managing Of state affairs to her alone are proper, ^Vnd you sit jjy, a looker on.

End. I would not, If it were possible I could, attempt Her diminution, without a taint Ol" foul ingratitude in myself.

Clirif. \\\ this The sweetness of your temper does abuse you ; And you call that a benefit to yourself, Which she, for her own enils, conferral uj)on you. 'Tis yielded she <iave way to your advancement: But for what cause ? that she might still continue llcr absolute sway and swing o'er I he w bole state; And that she migbt to her admirers \aunt, Tbc empress was her creature, and tbe giver To be ])referr*d before the gift.

End. It may be.

' Diit if ii'oii ■uou/d crnpi '1/ i m sti'Onijths V(iU hulil Sic] F()r 4/n77i(//tv, C'oxeter aiul .Mr, M. .Mason, ;is I lum- alicad) «»l)s('r>r(l, constantly tcaA strength ; wlurli bears a very «lillcront nu'aninn. Stnn^^tlts ATv strong holds., rorlrcnsrs, couiinunding positions, \'C. See Vol. II. \[)7.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 301

Ch^if. Nay, 'tis most certain: whereas, would you please In a true glass to look upon yourself, And view, without detraction, your own merits, Which all men wonder at, you would find that

fate, Without a second cause, appointed you To the supremest honour. For the princess, She hath reign'd"long enough, ami her remove Will make your entrance free to the possession Of what you were born to; and, but once resolve To build upon her ruins, leave the engines That must be used to undermine her greatness, To my provision.

End. I thank your care : But a design of such weight must not be Rashly determined of; it will exact A long and serious consultation from me. In the mean time, Chrysapius, rest assured I live your thankful mistress. [Eait.

Chri). Is this all ? Will the physick that I minister'd work no fur- ther ? I have play'd the fool; and, leaving a calm port, Embark'd myself on a rough sea of danger. In her silence lies my safety, which how can I Hope from a woman? but the die is thrown. And I must stand the hazard. [Exit.

30« THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

SCENE H.

A Space before the Pa/ace.

Enter Theodosius, Phii.anax, Timamls, Gkatiaxus, and Huntsmen.

Tlieo. Is Pauliiuis • So tortured with his ofout ?

Pliil. Most miserably. And it adds much to his affliction, tliat The pain denies him power to wait upon Your majesty.

Tlieo. I pity him: — he is A woiulerous honest man, and what he suffers, 1 knou% will grieve my empress.

Tun. He, indeed, is Much hound to her gracious favour.

Tfieo. He deserves it; She cannot find a subject upon wliom She better may confer it. Is the stag Safe lodged ?

Grai. Ves, sir, and the hounds and huntsmen ready.

Phil. He will make you royal sport. lie is a deer Of ten,' at the least.

He is a deer

Often,'] That is, a tlccr that has t»u branches to his horns rhirh they havf at three years olJ. .M. Manon.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 303

Enter a Countryman with an apple.

Graf. Whither will this clown ?

Urn. Stand back.

County. I would zee the emperor; why should you courtiers Scorn a poor countryman ? we z\reat at the plough To vill your mouths, 30U and your curs might

starve else : We prune the orchards, and you cranch the fruit; Yet still y'are snarling at us.

Theo. What's the matter ?^

Countr. I would look on thy sweet face.

Tim. Unmannerly swain !

Countr. Zw^ain! though I am a zv/ain, I have a heart yet. As ready to do service for my leege,^ As any princox peacock of you all. Zookers ! had I one of you zingle, v/ith this twig I would so veeze you.

Tim. Will your majesty Hear his rude lang-uao-e ?

Theo. Yes, and hold it as An ornament, not a blemish. O, Timantus, Since that dread Power by whom wt are, disdains

not With an open ear to hear petitions from us;

* As ready to do service for my leege,] This last word Coxetor blundered into leg; Mr. M. Mason copies him, but shrewdly observes — " liege is the word intended by the speaker, but 1 suppose it is misspelt on purpose!" I suppose, in my turn, that this gentleman is a singnlar instance of criticizing a writer without looking at him ! of editing an author without consulting the ori- ginal in a single instance I All the copies read as 1 have given it. In the next line, both he and Coxeter absurdly separate princox (or, as they choose to write it, princock) from peacock, to which it is the adjective.

\

504 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Easy access in us, liis deputies,

To tlie meanest of our subjects, is a debt

Which we stand l)Ound to pay.

Count)'. By my g-fauam's "host 'Tis a holesome zaNiuir ! t)ur vicar could not

mend it In the pulpit on a zunday.

TItcu. \\ hat's thv suit, friend?

Countr. /ute! 1 would hui"li at that. Let the court beg from thee, What the poor country gives.: I bring a present To thy good grace, M'hich 1 can call mine own, And look not, like these gay volk, for a return Of M'hat they venture. ]la\'e I giv'n't you? ha!

Chrij. A perilous kna\e.

(Jou)itr. Zee here a dainty apple,

[Presents the apple. Of mine om n grafting; zweet and zound, I assure thee.

Theo. It is the fairest fruit T ever saw. Those golden apples in the Hesperian orchards, So strangely guarded^ by the watchful dragon. As they required great i lercides to get tluin; Or those with which Hippojnenes decei\ ed Swi ft- footed Atalanta, when I look On this, deserve no wonder. \ on behold The poor man and his j)resent w itli couttinpt ; I to tluii- \aliic pii/c both: be tbat could So aid weak nature by bis c"are and labour, As to compel a crab-tree stock to bcai- A precious fruit of this large size and beauty, A\'ould bv his iiulustrN clumn'c a uetlv \ ilbi'-e Into a |)opul(;us city, and from tbat

^ ,Vo straiii;il) •^minlal \.'c. ) 'l'lu)ii^li stniii'^thi hv sumcliinrs tjSfd I)) uiir old niidTs in tlic sciisi- licrr it-cpiiri'il, )i't I lliiiik we iiii:;lit >cii(tiri' to road, So strongly guarded — 1 have, how- •;viT, iiiadi; no iliuns{('.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 305

Erect a flourishing kingdom. Give the fellow, Eor an encouragement to his future labours, Ten Attick talents.

Coiintr. I will weary heaven With my prayers for your majesty. [Exit.

Tlieo. Philanax, From me present this rarity to the rarest And best of women : when I think upon The boundless happiness that from her flows to me. In my imagination I am rapt Beyond myself: but I forget our hunting. To the forest, for the exercise of my body ; But for my mind, 'tis wholly taken up In the contemplation of her matchless virtues.

[E.vtunt.

SCENE III.

A Room in tJie Palace.

Enter Eudocia, Pulcheria, Arcadia, and

Flaccilla.

Eud. You shall know there's a difference be- tween us.

Pul. There was, I am certain, not long since, when you Kneel'd a petitioner to me; then you were happy To be near my feet ; and do you hold it, now. As a disparagement, that I side you, lady ?

Eud. Since you respect me only as I was. What I am shall be remember'd.

Pul. Does the means I practised, to give good and saving counsels To the emperor, and your new-stamp'd majesty, Still stick in your stomach ?

Eud. 'Tis not yet digested,

VOL. III. X

306 THE EMPKROR OF THE EAST.

In troth it is not. ^^lly, i^ood governess, Though you arc held tor u grand nuidam, and

yourselt* Tlie first that oNcrprize it, I ne'er took Your words for Deli)liian oracles, nor your actions For such wonders as you make them: — there is

one, When she shall see her time, as fit and able To be made partner of the emperor's cares, As your wise self, and may with justice challenge A nearer interest. — You have done your visit, So, when you please, you may leave me.

Pul. ril not bandy Words with your mightiness, proud one; only

this. You carry too much sail for your small bark, And that, when you least think upon't, may sink you. [Edit.

Flac. I am glad slie's gone.

Arcad. I fearVl she would have read A tedious lecture to us.

Enter Phi lax ax icUli the apple.

Phil. From the emperor, This rarejruit to the rareat.

End. How, my lord !

Phil. I use Ids language, madam ; and tluil trust, Which he imposed on me, discharged, his pleasure Connnands my present service. [E.iil.

End. Have you seen So fair an aj>i>le }

Flac. Never.

Arcad. If the taste Answer the beauty.

End. Prettily bcgg'd : — you should have it,

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 307

But that you eat too much cold fruit, and that Changes the fresh red in your clieeks to paleness.

Enter a Servant.

I have other dainties for you : — You come from Paulinus ; how is't with that truly noble And honest lord, my witness at the fount, In a word, the man to whose bless'd charity I owe my greatness ? How is't with him ?

Serv. Sprightly In his mind ; but, by the raging of his gout, In his body much distemper'd ; that you pleased To inquire his health, took off much from liis

pain, His glad looks did confirm it.

Eud. Do his doctors Give him no hope?

Serv. Little ; they rather fear, By his continual burning, that he stands In danger of a fever.

Eud. To him again, And tell him, that I heartily wish it lay In me to ease him; 'and from me deliver This choice fruit to him ; you may say to that. I hope it will prove physical.

Serv. The good lord Will be o'erjoy'd with the favour.

End. He deserves more. [Exeiun.

X2

308 THE EMPEllOR OF THE EAST.

SCENE IV.

A Room ui Paulinus' House.

Pau LINUS discovered in a Chair, attended hi a

Suriieon.

Sifro\ I have done as much as art can do, to stop The violent course of your tit, and I hope you

t'cel it : How does your honour?

Paul. At some ease, I tliank you ; I would you could assure continuance of it, For tlie moiety of mv fortune.

Si(7\o:. If I could cure The gout, my lord, witliout the philosopher's

stone I should soon purchase, it being a disease In poor men very rare, and in the rich The cure impossible. Your many bounties \V\i\ me prepare you for a certain truth, And to tlatter you were dishonest.

Paul. Your plain dealing Deserves a fee." \\()ul(l there were many more

such Of \()ur pi-ofcssion ! Happy are poor nu-n ! it" sick with llu- ixcess ot' heat or cold. Caused by necessitous labour, not loose surfeits, —

4 Would t/itir 'utir ma mi 7iiorc suc/i

Of' i/i)ur pml'is.sion ! \ Tlu-sc (.wo licmistiths arc wliolly clropt by Mr. M. Mason, mIio umiIs,

Paul. Your jildiii (Laliiig ])<strvcii (ijfc. ildjijiii arc pour tinii : thoin;li till" la'iM'iifSS ol llu- iii.-iif mi-lit liaw i-xcifi'il a siispii ion of some ih'lVct. 'I'liis is (lie lilili passagi' oiuiUcd b) liiiu iii tlir couipa--> ol a lew [)a;;t'« 1

THE EIVIPEROR OF THE EAST. 309

They, when spare diet, or kind nature fail To perfect their recovery, soon arrive at Their rest in death : hut, on the contrary, The great and noble are exposed as preys To the rapine of physicians ; and they, In hno'erins: out what is remediless,

-lit

Aim at their profit, not the patjent's health.

A thousand trials and experiments

Have been put upon me, and I forced to pay dear

For my vexation ; but I am resolved

(I thank your honest freedom) to be made

A property no more for knaves to work on.

Enter Cleon with a parchment roll

What have you there ?

Cle. The triumphs of an artsman O'er all infirmities, made authentical With the names of princes, kings, and emperors. That were his patients.

Paul. Some empirick. /

Cle. It may be so ; but he swears, within three days He'll grub up your' gout by the roots, and make

you able To march ten leagues a day in complete armour. Paul. Impossible.

Cle. Or, if you like not him

Surg. Hear him, my lord, for your mirth; I will take order They shall not wrong you. Paul. Usher in your monster. Cle. He is at hand. — March up : now speak for yourself.

310 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Enter Enipirick.

Emp. I come not, right lionoiirable, to your presence, with any hase and sordid end of re-ward ; the imniortaUty of my fame is the white 1 shoot at : the cliari>e of my most curious and costly ino-rcdients fraved, amountin<'- to some seven- teen thousand crowns — a trille in respect oi health — writini»: your nol)le name in my cata- logue, I sliall acknowledge myself amply satis- lied.

Surg. I belieye so.

Ei7ip. For your own sake,' I most heartily wish that you had now all the diseases, maladies, and iniirmicies u])on you, tliat M'cre ever remend)ered hy old Galen, Hippocrates, or the later and more admired Paracelsus.

Paul. For your oood m ish, I thank you !

•■-1 *^ ^ *

Einp. Take me with you, 1 beseech your good lordshij). — I urged it, that your joy, in being certainly and suddenly freed from them, may be the greater, and uiy not-to-be-parallelled skill

5 Enip. for your OiLii sake, kc.^ This cnii)irick may be con- sidered as the iriiitful parent of the quack, which, lor the two last centuries, has poisoned us in the doMt. and entertained us on the stace : a proud distinction to uliirh his i;:norancr and iinpiidi'iice fully cutitit- him !

I doubt whether Massinger ever fell into Moiiiie's hands; there is, however, as Mr. (I'ilehrist has wtil ol)ser\ed, ^o strik- ing; a resemblance between a passage in the Miilmlr Innisiiitiinc and this l)elore us, that it is dilVicult to l)elie\e the coincidence accidental :

Toiiietti". Jr roudrais i/uv xoits ni.\.sicz toutis Us viii/adirx (]uc jt riciis (It dm- ; ijiir xini.sj'uwicz tiliandonnv dt Imis Us luidicitn, dtsrs- jiirc, a t'agonir, pniir loits moiifrcr rcxcc/Uiur dr tnes rrniidrs, ef I'iiniv ijur j'fiiin>is dc votis rrndrc srrricr.

Arj^an. Jc xuu.s .siiis obli^t, tfiunsi(i"\ <!, ^ Innfis iiiir rous avcz pour rnui, &c. Actc III. sc. xiii.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 3 1 1

the more remarkable. The cure of the gout — a toy, without boast be it said, my cradle-practice : the cancer, the fistula, the dropsy, consumption of lungs and kidnevs, hurts in the brain, heart, or liver, are things worthy my opposition ; but in the recovery of my patients I ever overcome them. But to your gout

Paul. Ay, marry, sir, that cured, I shall be apter To give credit to the rest.

Emp. Suppose it done, sir.

Su?^g\ And the means you use, I beseech you ?

Etnp. I will do it in the plainest language, and discover my ingredients. First, my boteni tere- binthina of Cypris,* my manna, ros ccelo, coagulated AV'ith vetidos ovorum, vulgarly yolks of eggs, with a little cyath or quantity of my potable elixir, with some few scruples of sassafras and guiacum, so taken every morning and evening, in the space of three days purgeth, cleanseth, and dis- sipateth the inward causes of the virulent tumour.

Paul. Why do you smile ?

Surg. When he hath done I will resolve you.

Emp. For my exterior applications, I have these balsum-unguentulums, extracted from herbs, plants, roots, seeds, gums, and a million of other vegetables, the principal of which are, Ulissipona, or serpe?itaria, sophia, or herba consoUdarum, par- thenium, or commanllla Romana, mumia transmarina^ mixed with my plumbum philosophorum, and mater metallorum, cum ossa paraleli, est uurccrsale medica- mentum i/i podagra.

Clc. A conjuring balsamum !

^ First, my boteni terebinthina of Cypris, &c.] As I know not what degree of learning the author meant to give this im- postor, I have left his jargon as I found it, contenting myself with correcting the verbal oversights of the former editors.

ni2 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Emp. This applied warm upon tlie pained place, ^vith a feather ot" struthio-cameli, or a bird of paradise, ^vhieh is every where to be had, shall expulsc this tartaroiis, viscous, auatheos, and nia- liunant dolor.

Kiurg. An excellent receipt ! but docs your lordbhip Know Mdiat 'tis good for ?

Paul. I would be instructed.

Surg. For the g'onorrlicca, or, if you will liear it In a plainer phrase, the pox.

Kmp. If it cure his lordship Of that by the way, I hope, sir, 'tis the better. My medicine serves for all things, and the pox,

sir, Though falsely named the sciatica, or gout, Is the more catholick sickness.

Paul. Hence with the rascal ! Yet hurt him not, he makes me smile, and that Frees him from punishment. [They thrust l/im off]

Suro\ Such slaves as this Render our art contemptible.

Enter Servant \cl(li the apple.

Serv. My good lord.

Paul. So soon returned !

Serv. And with this present from Your great and gracious mistress, with her w ishes It may j)rove physical to you.

Paul. In my heart I kneel, and thank her bounty. Dear friend C'lecjii, (live him the cii|)b()ard of plate in the next room, F'or a reward. — [ E.veuiil C 'lean a//<l Servant.] — Most

ii-lorious fruit ! but made More precious by her grace and love that scut it; To touch it only, coming iVoni her hand,

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 515

Makes me forget all pain. A diamond Of this large size, (though it would buy a king- dom, ) Hewed from the rock, and laid down at my feet, Nay, though a monarch's gift, will hold no value, Compared with this — and yet, ere I presume To taste it, though, sans question, it is Some heavenly restorative, I in duty Stand bound to weigh my own unworthiness. Ambrosia is food only for the gods, And not by human lips to be profaned. I may adore it as some holy relick Derived from thence, but impious to keep it In ni}^ possession ; the emperor only Is worthy to enjoy it. — -

Re-enter Cleon.

Go, good Cleon, And (cease this admiration at this object,) From me present this to my royal master, I know it will amaze him ; and excuse me That I am not myself the bearer of it. That I should be lame now, when with wings of

duty I should fly to the service of this empress ! Nay, no delays, good Cleon.

Cle. I am gone, sir. {Exeunt.

3)4 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

SCENE V.

A Rooyn i>i the Palace.

£«^e;' TiiEOuosius, Chrysapius, Timantus, and G RATI AN us.

Chri). Are you not tired, sir?

Tlito. Tired ! I must not say so, However, though I rode liard. To a luintsnian. His toil is his deliglit, and to complain Of weariness, would shew as poorly in him As if a ofcneral should u:rieve for a Mound Received upon his forehead, or his breast. After a glorious victory. Lay by These accoutrements for the chase.

Enter Pulcheria.

Pul. You are well returned, sir, from your princely exercise.,

Tlico. Sister, to you I owe the freechun, and the use of all The pleasures I enjoy : your care provides For my security, and the burthen, which I should alone .sustain, you uudcriro. And, by your painful watchings, yield my sleeps lioth sound and sure. How haj>p}- am I in Your knowledire of the art of <rovernment ! And, credit me, I glory to behold you Dispose of great designs, as if you were' A partner, and no subject of my empire.

" Dis-jmsc (if fircdt (lesions, as if ijnii ut/v] This litx". loo, wliii li niakcH scusf of (he passage, is wholly oinitlcd I13 .Mr. M. .Maxiii. I have no pIraMirc in pointinj; oiit those perpetual bliuulers ;

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 31

Pill. My vigilance, since it hath well succeeded, I am confident you allow of — yet it is not Approved by all.

Theo. Who dares repine at that Which hath our suffrage ?

Pul. One that too well knows The strength of her abilities can better My weak endeavours.

Theo. In this you reflect Upon my empress ?

Pal. True ; for, as she is The consort of your bed, 'tis fit she share in Your cares and absolute power.

Theo. You touch a string- That sounds but harshly to me ; 'and I must, In a brother's love, advise you, that hereafter You would forbear to move it : since she is In her pure self a harmony of such sweetness, Composed of duty, chaste desires, her beauty (Though it might tempt a hermit from his beads) The least of her endowments. I am sorry Her holding the first place, since that the second Is proper to yourself, calls on your envy. She err ! it is impossible in a thought; And much more speak or do what may offend me. In other things I would believe you, sister; But, though the tongues of saints and angels

tax'd her Of any imperfection, I should be Incredulous.

Pul. She is yet a woman, sir.

Theo. The abstract of what's excellent in the sex.

but it is impossible to pass them entirely over in an editor who lays claim to our gratitude solely on the score of superiour ac- curacy and attention !

C,l6 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

But to their mulcts and frailties a mere stranger ; I'll die in this belief.

Enter Cleon with the apple.

Cle. Your humblest servant, The lord Paulinus, as a witness of His zeal and duty to your majesty. Presents you with this jewel.

7'heo. Ha !

Cle. It is Prcferr'd by him

'J'heo. Above his honour ?

Cle. No, sir ; I would have said his patrimony.

Theo. 'Tis the same.

Cle. And he entreats, since lameness may excuse His not presenting it himself, from me (Though far unworthy to su])ply his place) You would vouchsafe to accept it.

Theo. Further oli*. You've told your tale. Stay you for a reward r Take that. [Strikes him.

Pul. How's this?

Chri). I never saw him moved thus.

Theo. We must not i)art so, sir : — a guard upon him !

Enter Guard.

May I not vent my sorrows in the air, AVithout discovery? Forbear the room !

\Exu()it Pill. Chri/. Tim. drat. luiiKiiuirdxcithClc. yvt be w ithin call — \\ lial an eartlnjuake I feel in

me ! And on the suddt-n my whole tabriek totters. JSly blood within me turns, and through my \eins, l*arting with natural redness, I diseern it Changed to a fatal yellow. What an army

J

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 317

Of hellisli furies, in the horrid shapes

Of doubts and fears, charge on me ! rise to my

rescue, Thou stout maintainer of a chaste wife's honour, The confidence of her virtues ; be not shaken With the wind of vain surmises, much less suffer The devil Jealousy to whisj)er to me My curious observation of that I must no more remember. Will't not be? Thou uninvited guest, ill-manner'd monster, I charire thee, leave me ! Malt thou force me to Give fuel to that fire I M'ould put out ? The goodness of my memory proves my mischief. And I would sell my empire, could it purchase The dull art of forgetfulness.* — Who waits there ?

* To account for this paroxysm of jealous fury in Theodosius, we must call to mind that the ancients attached a certain de- gree of mystical consequence to the presentation of an app/c ; •which they universally agreed to consider as a tacit confession of passion accepted and returned. Catullus has some beautiful lilies on the subject :

Ut missum sponsi Jurtivo munere malum

Procurrit casta virginis e gvanio, Quod ?niserce oblitce molli sub veste locatuniy

Dum advcntu matris prosility r.rcufitur, Atqut i/lud pro7iO prceceps agitur dccursu:

Huic riianat tristi conscius ore rubor. Car, Ixiii. Upon which Vossius observes, with a reference to the imme- diate subject of this scone : Mala amaiilium semper fuissc munera^ et obscacnain continerc sigivficationem, satis vel ex priino patct Catulli epigrammatc, et multa satis de his coUigcrunt viri docti. Nccflo- rentibus taiitum Grecice et Romano: rebus, scd et collapsa utrorumque fortuna, eandcm permanisse sigiiijicationein, satis docet cxemplum Paulini iuterempti propter pomum missum ub Eudocia imperatriccy de quo vide Chronicon Alexandrinum, et complures /listorice scrip- tores. Obser. ad C. Val. Catullum.

Massinger, therefore, had sufficient authority for this part of his story. The fact, however, is properly discredited by later and more judicious writers, who have observed that it has all the appearance of au East«rn fiction; and. indeed, an adventure, with no very distant resemblance to it, is found iH t/ie Arabian Tales.

318 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Re-enter Timantus.

Tun. Most sacred sir

Tkeo. Sacred,' as 'tis accurs'd, Is proper to me. Sirrah, upon your life, Witliout a word concerniiii^ this, command Eudocia to come to me. [Edit Tim.^ Would I had Ne'er known lierby that name, my mother's name, Or that, for lier own sake, she liail continued Poor Athenais still ! — No intermission ! ^\'ilt thou so soon torment me ? must I read, A\'rit in the table of my memory, To warrant my suspicion, how Paulinus (Though ever thought a man averse to women) First gave her entertainment, made her way For audience to my sister? — then I did IMyself observe how he was ravish'd with Tlie gracious delivery of her story, "Which was, I grant, the bait that first took me

too : — She was his convert ; what the rhetorick was He used, I know not; and, since she was mine, In jjrivate as in publick w hat a mass Of grace and favour hath she heap'd upon him ! And but to day this fatal fruit — She's come.

Rc-t')tter Ti MANTus r«7/// Judocia, 1'laccii.i.a,

mid Akcaui.v.

Can she be guilty ?

End. Vou seem troubled, .sir;

'> Sacrutus^ in Latin, nu'ans accursed ; it) tliis riicoilo^ius ulludcb. wlirn hi* says tliat Sacred <is it is accursed^ is [>ro|)rr to him. M. M.isoN.

1 rcrollfct nf) instance of tliis mmim- ol ••'Hiaius: it Ma> li» aacir that 'I'lit'oihwius alluilod ; and so ])rrhaps did .Mr. M. Mason, if lie had known il.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 319

My innocence makes me bold to ask the cause, That I may ease you of it. No salute, After four lono- hours' absence !

T/ieo. Prithee, forgive me. [Kisses he7\

Methinks I find Paulinus on her lips, And the fresh nectar that I drew from thence Is on the sudden pall'd. How have you spent Your hours since I last saw you ?

End. In the converse Of your sweet, sisters.

Theo. Did not Philanax, From me deliver you an apple ?

FaicI. Yes, sir; Heaven, how 3'ou fro^vn ! pray you, talk of some- thing else, Think not of such a trifle.

Theo. How, a trifle ! Does any toy from me presented to you. Deserve to be so slighted ? do you value What's sent, and not the sender? from a peasant It had deserved your thanks.

Eud. And meets from you, sir, All possible respect.

Theo. I prized it, lady, At a higher rate than you believe; and would

not Have parted with it, but to one I did Prefer before myself.

End. It was, indeed, The fairest that I ever saw.

Theo. It was ; And it had virtues in it, my Eudocia, Not visible to the eye.

End. It may be so, sir.

Theo. What did you with it.^ — tell me punc- tually ; I look for a strict accompt.

320 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

FauJ. What shall I answer?

Tlieo. Do you stagger ? Ha !

End. Xo^ sir; I liave eaten it. It had the plcasant'st' taste ! — I wonder that You fountl it not in my hrcath.

J'JiCo. rtaith, I did not, And it was wonderous strange.

FakL Pray you, try again.

Theo. I lind no scent oft here: you play witlj me ; You have it still ?

End. By your sacred lite and fortune, An oath I dare not hreak, I have eaten it.

Tlito. Do you know how this oath hinds?

Eud. Too well, to break it. ' Theo. That ever man, to please his brutish

sense, Should slave his understanding to his passions, And, taken with soon-t'ading white and red, Deliver up his credulous ears to hear The niagick of a Syren; and from these Believe' there ever was, is, or can he More than a seeming honesty in had woman !

Eud. This is strange language, sir.

Tlieo. Who waits ? Come all.

Re-enter Pulcheria, Philanax, Chrysapil's, G R A T I A N u s, and 6' luird.

Nay, sister, not so near, being of the sex, I fear you are infected too.

* /^ //oJ ///f plcasant'st taste!] Coxetcr ami Mr. .M. .Masou read, It had the pUasunt tastc^ wliicli, if not iiuii^ciisc, is not vi'ry far removed Irom it.

* liflii'Vf thirc ever Tiv/v,] So the old copN : tliejiioderii rdi- tors, to the destruction both ol icusc «tud melie, icud, Ijiluiinji tlierc c>cr \va>. iLc.

THE EMPEROU OF THE EAST. 321

Pill. What mean you ?

Tlieo. To shew you a miracle, a prodigy

Which Africk never equall'cl : Can you think

This masterpiece ofheaven,^ this precious velkim, Of such a purity and virgin whiteness, Could he design'd to have perjury and whoredom, In capital letters, vrrit upon't ?

PnL Dear sir.

Theo. Nay, add to this, an impudence heyond All prostituted holdness. Art not dead yet? Will not the tempests in thy conscience rend thee As small as atoms, that there may no sign Be left thou ever \vert so? wilt thou live Till thou art blasted with the dreadful lightning Of pregnant and unanswerable proofs Of thy adulterous twines? die yet, that I With my honour may conceal it.

End. Would long since The Gorgon of your rage had turn'd me marble ! Or, if I have offended

Theo. If! o'ood an ""els !

But I am tame; look on this dumb accuser.

[Shexcing the apple.

End. Oh, I am lo^t !

Theo. Did ever cormorant Swallow his prey, and then digest it whole, As she hath done this apple? Philanax, As 'tis, from me presented it; the good lady Swore she had eaten it; yet, I know not how. It came entire unto Paulinus' hands,

' Can you think

This masterpiece of heaven^ «Scc.]

" Was this fair jiapcr, this most goodly book, " Made io wiitcAvhore upon r" Othdlo.

There arc several other short passages in this scene copied or imitated from the same play; which, as sufficiently obvious, I have forborn to notice.

VOL. III. , Y

f.C<2 THE EMPEUOR OF THE EAST.

Aiul I from him received it, sent in scorn, I'pon my lite, to give me a close touch Tiiat hew as weary of thee. Was there nothing Left thee to fee him to give satisfaction To thy insatiate hist, l)iic what was sent As a (tear favour from me? How have I shm'd In niv {h)tage on this creature ! hut* to her, 1 have Hvcd as I was born, a perfect virgin : Nav, more, 1 thought it not enough to l>e True to her bed, but that 1 must feed high. To strengthen my al)ilities to cloy Her ravenous appetite, Uttle suspecting She wouUl desire a change. End. I never did, sir.

Thto. Be duml); I will not waste my breath in taxing Thy base ingratitude. How I have raised th.ee Mill by the world be, to thy shame, spoke often: Ihit for that ribald, who held in my empire 'I'lu; next place to myself, so bound unto me Dy ill! the ties of duty and allegiance, He shall pay dear for't, and feel what it is, In a wrongof such high conse(juencc, topull down His lord's slow anger on him! — l^hilanax, Hcs troubled with the gout, let him be cured M'ith a violent death, and in the other world 'I'hcink his j)hysician.

riid. His cause unheard, sir? /'///. Take heed of rashness. 77/60. Is what I command To be disputed ?

yV//V. ^'our will shall be done, sir:

Ihit I bat I am the instrument

'I'liio. Do you murmur? \E.iit Phil, xcith Guard.

but ^> /'('",

/ have lived as I was hum, &c.] i. v. cxcipl. Src p. '2K9 : tiie void occurs again, in this sense, in p. 1533, ;uul in ui;in} utlicr pUccs.

THE EIMPEROR OF THE EAST. 323

What couldst tliou say, if that my license should Give liherty to thy tongue? [Eiidocia kiieel'ing, points to 'riicodos'ms szoord.\ thou wouldst die ? I am not So to he reconciled. See me no more : The sting' of conscience ever gnawing on thee, A long life he thy punishment ! [E.rit,

Flac. () sweet lady. How I could weep for her !

Arcad. Speak, dear madam, speak. Your tongue, as you are a woman, while you live Should he ever moving, at the least, the last part That stirs about vou.

Pill. Though 1 should, sad lady, In policy rejoice, you, as a rival Of my greatness, are removed, compassion, Since I believe you innocent, commands me To mourn your fortune ; credit me, I will urge All arguments I can allege that may Appease the emperor's fury.

Arcad. I will grow too, Upon my knees, unless he bid me rise. And swear he will forgive you.

Flac. And repent too : All this pother for an apple !

[Ed'eunt Pulcheria, Arcadia, and Flaccilla* Chry. Hope, dear madam. And yield not to despair; I am still your servant, And never will forsake you, though awhile You leave the court and city, and give way To the violent passions of the emperor. Repentance, in his wantof you, will soon find him : In the mean time, I'll dispose of you, and omit No opportunity that may invite him To see his errour.

Eud. Oh ! \JVrmging her hands.

Chry, Forbear, for heaven's sake. \Exmnt.

■ Y2

324- THE EMPEllOIl OF THE EAST.

ACT V. SCENE L

A Room in Paul i mis' House.

Enter VnihA^ AX, Paulinus, Guard, and Exe- cutioners.

Paul. Tills is most barbarous 1 liow have you lost All feeling of humanity, us honour, In your consent alone to liave me used thus ? Put to be, as you are, a looker on, Nay, more, a principal actor in't, (the softness Of your former life consitler\l,) almost turns mc Into a senseless statue,

Phil, ^\'oul(l, lonir since, Death, by some other means, luul made you one, That you might be less sensible of -what You have, or are to suffer!

Paul Am to sufler ! Let such, whose happiness and heaven depend Upon their present Ijcing, fear to ])art Mith A fort they cannot lono; hold: mine to me is A charge that I am w cary of, all defences Pv pain and sickness batter'd: — vet take heed, Take heed, lord Philanax, that, lor pri\ ate spleen, Or any false-conceived <>rud<;e ai>ainst me, (Since in one thought ot' wrong to you I am Sincerely innocent,) you do not that My royal master must in justice punish. If you pass* to your own heart thorough miiu'; The murder, as it will come out, discovcr'd.

' Jfj/oupasstoi/uuruwn licutt l/ioroitg/i mine: \ Mr. M. Mumim inserts mi bcl'urf yoti ; wiii(li injures bi)(li tlii' hi'iisc and ilu- luilrc. Was lif not awuro that IIkjiuhi^Ii^ or t/ioruw as tho (luarlo hsLH ilj b a ilivs) lla|)li' ?

THE EJilPEROR OF THE EAST. ^9.5

P/iil. I murder you, my lord ! heaven witness for mc, With tlie restoring of your health, I wish you Long life and hajjpiness: for myself, I am Compeird to put in exeeution that A\ hieh I would fly from; 'tis the emperor, The high incensed emperor's will, commands What I must see perform 'd.

Paid. The emperor ! Goodness and innocence guard me ! wdieels nor

racks Can force into my memory the rememhrance Of the least shadow of offence, wnth which I ever did provoke him. Though beloved, (And yet the people's love is short and fatal,) I never courted popular applause, Feasted the men of action, or labour'd By prodigal gifts to draw the needy soldier, The tribunes, or centurions to a faction. Of which I M^ould rise up the head against him. I hold no place of strength, fortress or castle, In my command, that can give sanctuary To malecontents, or conntenance rebellion. I have built no palaces to face the court. Nor do my followers' braveries shame his train ; And though I cannot blame my fate for want, My competent means of life deserve no envy; In Mhat, then, am I dangerous ^

Phil. His displeasure Reflects on none of those particulars Which you have mention'd, though some jealous

princes In a subject cannot brook them.

Paul. None of these ! In what, then, am I A\'orthy his suspicion ? But it may, nay it must be, some informer, To whom my innocence appear'd a crime,

32(7 THE EMPKROR OF THE EAST.

Hath poison'd his kite good opinion of mc. 'Tis not to i\iL\ but, in the censure of So good a master, guilty, that atilicts nie.

2-*/ii/. There is no remedy.

Paid. No ! — I have a friend yet, To M hom the state 1 stand in now delivcr'd, (Could the strictness of your warrant give M'ay

to it,) That, by fair intercession for mc, mouUI So far prevail, that, my defence unlieard, I should not, innocent or guilty, suffer A\'ithout a fit distinction.

F/iil. These I'alse hopes, ^ly lord, abuse you. A\ hat man, when con- demn "d, Did ever iind a friend ? or Mho dares lend An eye of pity to that star-cross'd subject On whom liis sovcreiiin frowns?

Paul. She that dares plead For innocence without a fee, the empress, IMv orcat and oracious mistress.

P/iil. There's your errour. Her many favours, which you lioped sliould make

you,

Prove your undoing. She, poor lady, is

Jjanish'd for ever IVom the em])eror\s presence. And his confirnrd suspicion, to his wrong, '1 liat you have been o\-er-i'amiliar with her, Doom-. \ ou to death. I know you underhland me.

Paul. ( )ver-t'amiliar !

PliH. In sharing w ith him Those sweet and setict pleasures of liis bed, A\'liii-h can admit no pai tner.

I^iiiil. And i^ t hat Tin- crime for wiruh I am to die- of all M\ numerous sins, was there iiot om* of weiirht Knongh to sink me, if he boridwM not

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 32/

The colour of a guilt I never saw,

To paint my innocence in a deform'd

And monstrous shape ? but that it were profane

To argue lieaven of ignorance or injustice,

I now should tax it. Had the stars that reign'd

At my nativity such cursed influence,

As not alone to make me miserable,

But, in the neighbourhood of her goodness to me,

To force contagion upon a lady,

Whose purer flames were not inferiour

To theirs when they shine brightest ! to die for

her, Compared with what she suffers, is a trifle. By her example warn'd, let all great women Hereafter throw pride and contempt on such As truely serve them, since a retribution In lawful courtesies is now styled lust ; And to be thankful to a servant's merits Is grown a vice, no virtue,

Phil. These complaints Are to no purpose : think on the long flight Your better part must make.

Paul. She is prepared : Nor can the freeing of an innocent From the emperor's furious jealousy hinder her. — It shall out, 'tis resolved ; but to be whisper'd To you alone. What a solemn preparation Is made here to put forth an inch of taper^ In itself almost extinguish'd ! mortal poison } The hangman's sword ! the halter !

Phil. 'Tis left to you To make choice of which you please.

Paul. Any will serve To take away my gout and life together.

* to put forth an inch of taper'] i. e. to put

9ut. Forth, for outj occurs continually in our old writers.

528 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

I would not have tlic emperor imitate

Rome's monster, Nero, in that eruel mercy

He shew'cl to Seneca. A\'I)eii voii liave diseharo:ed

AVhat you are trusted with, and 1 have given you

Reasons beyond all doubt or disputation,

Of the empress' and my innocence; when I am

dead, (Since 'tis my master's pleasure, and high treason In you not to obey it,) I conjure you, By the hopes you have of liappiness hereafter, Since mine in this workl are now parting from

me, That vou would \v\n the voun<>- man to rei)entance Of the wrong done to his chaste \s'ife, Eudocia. And if ])erchance he shed a tear for what In his rashness he imposed on his true servant, So it cure him of future iealousv, 'Twill prove a precious balsamum, and find nic M'hen lam in my grave. — Now, when you please, Eor I am readv.

/■*////. His words M'ork strangely on me. And I wouhl do — but I know not what to think

on"t. [K.iruiit.

SCENE IL

A Room ni (he Palace. Enter PuLciiFuiA, Elaccilla, Ahcadja, Ti-

MANTUS, (JUATIAMS, (Did C'UUVSAIMI S.

Pnl. Still in his sulU-n mood: no intcimi^^ion Of his melancholy fit ?

'I"nn. It rather, mad;un. Increases, tlian gro\\s less.

(irnt. In the next room To his bcdchaudjcr we watch tl ; toi lie by signs

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 329

Gave us to uiKlcrstand lie would admit Nor company uor conference.

Fui. Did he take No rest, as yOu could guess ?

C/iri/. Not any, madam. Like a Numidian lion, by the cunning Of the desperate huntsman taken in a toil, And forced into a spacious cage, he walks About his chamber: we mi<>-ht hear him o-nash His teeth in rage, which open'd, hollow groans And murmurs issued from his lips, like winds Imprison'd in the caverns of the earth Striving for liberty : and sometimes throwing His body on his bed, then on the ground. And with such violence, that we more than fear'd, And still do, if the tempest of his passions By your wisdom be not laid, he will commit Some outrage on himself.

Piil. His better ano-el, I hope, will stay him from so foul a mischief; Nor shall my care be wanting.

Tim. Twice I heard him Say, Fahe Eudocia, hoiv much art thou t^mvorthi/ of these tears! then sigh'd, and straight Roar'd out, Paulinus ! zcas his goiitij age To he prej'erf d before mij strength and youth ? Then groan'd again, so many ways expressing The afflictions of a tortured soul, that Ave, Who wept in vain for what we could not help, Were sharers in his sufferings.

Put. Thouo'h vour sorrow Is not to be condemn'd, it takes not from The burthen of his miseries : we must practise, With some fresh object, to divert his tiioughts From that they are wholly fixVl on.

Chrij. Could I gain The freedom of access, I would present him

530 THE E:\rPErvOR of the east.

^V itli this petition. — Mill your highness please To look upon it : you will soon find there Whiit my intents and hopes are.

Enter Theodosius.

Grat. Ha ! 'tis he.

Put. Stand close, And give way to his passions ; 'tis not sate To stop them in their violent course, before They have spent themselves.

Tlico. I play the tool, and am Unequal' to myself; delinquents are To suffer, not the innocent. 1 have done Nothina;, wiiich will not hold weight in the scale Of my impartial justice ; neither feel I The worm of conscience upbraiding me For one black deed of tyranny; wherefore, then, Should I torment myself? Great Julius would not Kest satisfied that his wife was free from fact, But, only for suspicion of a crime, Sued a divorce; nor was this Roman rigour Censured as cruel : and still the wise Italian, 'J'hat knows the honour of his family Depends upon the purity of his bed, Fov a kiss, nay, wanton look, will plough \\\>

mischief, Au(| sow the seeds of his revenge in blood. And shall 1, to whose power the- law's a servant, That stand accountable to none, for what ISIy will calls an otfcncc, being comj)cird. And on such grounds, to raise an altar to Mv angei"; tbouuli, 1 grant, it is ( rnicMited U'ltii a loose Mtruiiij)cl and aduilcm"^ gore, Ki-pcnt the justice of my l"nr\ "- No.

"! Thco, 1 pidii tin- fuul, itiid uin {^nci{m\ to nil) !iC If ;] \. r. uiiiusl. Scc Vol. I. j). \'.Vi.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 331

I should not : yet still my excess of love, Fed high in the remembrance of her choice And sweet embraces, would persuade me that Connivence or remission of her fault, ]\Iade warrantable by her true submission For her offence, might be excuseable, Did not the cruelty of my wounded honour, With an open mouth, deny it.

Pid. 1 approve of Your good intention, and I hope 'twill prosper. —

[To Chrysapius, He now seems calm : let us, upon our knees,

Encompass him. — Most royal sir

Flac. Sweet brother-^ —

Arxad. As you are our sovereign, by the ties of nature You are bound to be a father in vour care To us poor orphans.

Tim. Shew compassion, sir, Unto yourself,

Grat. The majesty of your fortune Should fly above the reach of grief.

Chry. And 'tis Impaired, it you yield to it. Theo. Wherefore pay you This adoration to a sinful creature?" I am flesh and blood, as you are, sensible Of heat and cold, as much a slave unto The tyranny of my passions, as the meanest Of my poor subjects. The proud attributes, By oil-tongued flattery imposed upon us,

* The. Wherefore pan you

This adoration to a sinful creature ?] In this fine speecti Mas- singcr has ventured to measure Aveapous with Shakspeare, and, if I may trust my judgment, not unsuccessfully. The feelings, indeed, are more interested by the latter, but that arises from the situation of his chief character.

532 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

As sacred, glorious, high, invincible,

The deputy of heaven, and in that

Omnipotent, with all false titles else,

Coin'd to abuse our frailty, though compounded.

And by the breath of sycophants applied,

Cure not the least fit of an ague in us.

We may give poor men riches, confer honours

On undcservcrs, raise, or ruin such

As are beneath us, and, w ith this puti"(l up,

Ambition Avould persuade us to forget

That we are men : but he tliat sits above us,

And to whom, at our utmost rate, we are

But pageant properties, deritles our weakness :

In me, to whom you kneel, "tis most apparent.

Can I call back yesterday, with all their aids

That bow unto my sceptre ? or restore

My mind to that tranquillity and peace

It then enjoy'd ? — Can P make Eudocia chaste,

Or vile Paulinus honest?

FuL If I might, Without offence, deli\'cr my opinion

7'//to. ^V'hat would you say ,-

Fill. That, on my soul, the empress Is innocent.

Clinj. The good i^uilinus guiltless.

drat. And this should yield you comfort.

'J'lico. in being guilty Of an offence far, far transcending that They stand condemn'd for ! Call you this a com- fort r Supj)ose it could be true, — a corsive* rather, Not to cat nut (h'ad llcsh, but jmtrifv

^ - Can 1 iiuiLc Iliiilocin c/i(i.stc,1 The (Hiarf<»

bu!> — Van it lutiLi. For tl>o j)ri'si"nt reudiiiL; I ;iin ;in>« i ral>U'.

* - Call i/ou this a cmu/uii /

Sii/ipn.sc it could In .;..<, a cofbivc rttllicr,

Ifiut to tut uul dciuljlcsli, iiv. j Our oltl writers iisfd curfiic or

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 333

What yet is sound. Was murder ever lield

A cure for jealousy? or the cryiuo- blood

Ui innocence, a balm to take away

Her festering anguish ? As you do desire

I should not do a justice on myself,

Add to the proofs by which Paulinus fell,

And not take from them; in your charity

Sooner believe that they were false, than I

Unrighteous in my judgment^ subjects' lives

Are not their prince's tennis-balls, to be bandied

In sport away : all that I can endure

For them, if they were guilty, is an atom

To the m.ountain of affliction I pull'd on me,

Should they prove innocent.

Ch)y. For your majesty's peace, I more than hope they were not ; the false oath Ta'en by the empress, and for which she can Plead no excuse, convicted her, and yields A sure defence for your suspicion of licr. And yet, to be resolved, since strong doubts

are More grievous, for the most part, than to know A certain loss —

Tkco. 'Tis true, Chrysapius, Were there a possible means,

C/ny. 'Tis offer'd to you, If you please to embrace it. Some few minutes JNlake truce with passion, and but read, and follow What's there projected, — [Delivers him apaper.] —

you shall find a kev Will make your entrance easy, to discover

corrosive indifTorcntly, as it suited the verse ; and I should lualce no dilficiilty ol" re<iulating the measure accordingly, in defiance of the vicious spelling of the early cojiies. In the next line, for — to eat out, which was the phraseology of the times, and per- fectly correct, the Biodern editors absurdly read — ia eat our (lead fiesh f

S34 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Ilcr secret tliouglits ; and then, as in your

■u'isdoni You sIkiU tliiiik (it, you may determine of her ; And rest confirm'd, whetlier Paulinas died A villain or a martyr,

'J'heo. It may do, Kay, sure it must; yet, liowsoe'er it fall; I am most wretched. Which way in my wislies I should* fashion the event, I'm so distracted I cannot yet resolve of. — Follow me ; Though in my name all names are comprehended, I must have witnesses in what degree I have done wrong, or suft'er'd.

Ful. Hope the hest, sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Anotlier Room in the same.

Enter Eudocia in sackcloth, Iter hair loose.

[Sings.] 11 hi) art thou sloir, thou rest of trouble, Death,

To stop a xr retch's breath, That calls on thee, and oU'ers her sad heart

A prey unto thij dart ? I am nor younii; nor fair ; be, there) ore, bold:

Sorrow hath made me old, Dijonnd, and wrinkled ; all that I can crave,

Js, tjaiet in tiiy grave.

* ll'huli xcd}/ ill nil/ xcis/irs

J slioulil fashion tin- mnt,'] Mr. M. Mason o\W\{i sliouhl , A\liic!i rt'«lutrs ihf passive to uoiisciisi'; but, in his prrat can* lor (In* purity of liis autlior'b hm;^uam', alters, in tlu- lu-xt line, — rc.wlxe of, to /<A"/u-oiil It i', iiuirli to b- rcirrottcd llut his anxiety kliuuld .ippcar bu olU'U ill tlic \>iuuji place

THE E]\IPEROR OF THE EAST. 335

Such as live happy, hold long life ajexvel ;

But to me thou art cruel, If thou end not my tedious misery ;

A?id I soon cease to be. Strike, and strike home, then ; pity unto me,

In one short hour's delay, is tyranny.

Thus, like a dying swan, to a sad tune

I sing my own dirge ; would a requiem foUow^,

Which in my penitence I despair not of,

(This brittle glass of life already broken

With misery,) the long and quiet sleep

Of death would be most welcome ! — Yet, before

We end our pilgrimage, 'tis fit that we

Should leave corruption and foul sins behind us.

But with wash'd feet and hands, the heathens

dare not Enter their profane temples ; and for me To hope my passage to eternity Can be made easy, till I have shook off The burthen of my sins in free confession, Aided with sorrow and repentance for them. Is against reason. 'Tis not laying by My royal ornaments, or putting on This garment of humility and contrition, The throwing dust and ashes on my head. Long fasts to tame my proud flesh, that can make Atonement for my soul ; that must be humbled, All outward signs of penitence else are useless. Chrysapius did assure me he would bring me A holy man, from whom (having discover'd My secret crying sins) I might receive Full absohitiou — and he keeps his word.

3() THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

Elder Tjieodosius disguised as a Friar, xcith

C'lillYSAPIUS.

Welcome, most reverend sir, upon my knees I entertain you.

'I'lico. Xoi)le sir, forbear 'I'lie plaee ; the sacred olHce tliat I come for

[Edit Chrtfsapius. Commands all privacy. My penitent daughter, Be careful, as you wish remission from me, That, in confession of your sins, you hide not One crime, M'hose ponderous weight, when you

would make Your flights above the firmament, may sink you. A foolish modestv in concealing aui>-ht, Is now far worse than impudence to profess And justify your guilt, be therefore free ; So may the gates of merc}^ open to you !

End. Eirst then, I ask a pardon, for my being Inorateful to lieaven's bountv.

'Jlico. A irood entrance.

End. Cireatness comes from above, and I raised to it From a low condition, sinfidly forgot J'rom whence it came ; and, looking on myself In tlic false ii-lass of tiatterv, I receivi'd it As a (lcl)t (hie to nu' beautv, not a gilt Orfa\<)i'i' iVoin the emi)eror.

'J'lu'o. ''I'was not \\v\\.

End. Ih-ide waited (m unthankfidness ; and no more Rcmcndx ring tlic com|)assion of the j)rincess, And the means she used t(» make me wbat I was, Contested with her, and with sore eyes .sceinLC Jlcr greatci- Hgbt as it dinim'd mine, I practised To ha\ e it quite j)ut out.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. ^2>7

Theo. A great offence ; But, on repentance, not unpardonable. Forward.

FakL O, father ! — what I noM^ must utter, I fear, in the delivery will destroy me, Before you have absolved me.

Tlieo. Heaven is gracious ; Out with it.

End. Heaven commands us to tell truth, Yet I, most sinful wretch, forswore myself.

TJieo. On what occasion ?

End. Quite forgetting that An innocent truth can never stand in need Of a guilty lie, being on the sudden ask'd By the emperor, my husband, for an apple Presented by him, I swore I had eaten it ; When my grieved conscience too well knows I

sent it To comfort sick Paulinus, being a man I truly loved and favour'd.

Theo. A cold sweat, Like the juice of hemlock, bathes me. [Aside.

End. And from this A furious jealousy getting possession Of the good emperor's heart, in his rage he doom'd The innocent lord to die ; my perjury The fatal cause of murder.

Theo. Take heed, (Laughter, You niggle^ not with your conscience, and reli- gion.

3 The. Tahe heed, daughter,

You niggle not xoith your con.scicnce,^ i. c. trifie, p^oij, with it ; this is the cant sense of the word : its proper meaning is, to de- ceive, to draw out surreptitiously, &c. Thus, in the Honest Jlliorc, Part 11. : "I had but one poor penny, and that I was glad to tiigg/e out, and buy a holly wand to grace him through the streets."

VOL. Ill, Z

kJO

8 THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

In stvlino' him an innocent, from vour fear And .shame to accuse yourselt. The emj)eror Had many spies upon you, saw such graces, AV'hich virtue could not warrant, shower\l upon

liim ; Glances in pul)lick, and more liheral favours In your private chamber-meetinu,-s, making way For foul adultery ; nor could he be I'ut sensible of the compact passd between you, To the ruin of his honour.

Ki((i. Hear me, father; I look'd for comfort, but, in this, you come To add to my alilictions.

77ico. Cause not you Vour own damnation, in concealing that "Which ma}', in your discovery, hnd forgiveness. Open your eyes; set heaven or lull before you; In the revealing of the truth, you shall Prepare a i)alace for your soul to dwell in, Stored with celestial blessings; whereas, if You palliate your crime, and dare beyond Playing with lightning, in concealing it, E.\j)ect a dreadful dungeon lilfd w ilh horroui", And never-ending torments.

EiuL May they fdl Eternally upon me, .ind increase, ' A\'lien that whicb we call Time hath lost its

name !

]\Ia\- lightning cleave the centre of the eartb,

And I siidv (juick, before you have absolved me,

Into the bottondess abyss, if e\er,

In one unchaste desire, nay, in a tliought,

I wrong'd the honour of the emperor's bed !

I do (lcser\e, I grant, more than 1 .^uUci',

In that my I'ervour and desire to please him,

In m\ holy meditations jjress'd uj)on nic,

And would not be kc[)t out ; now to disscndjlc.

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 339

When I shall suddenly be insensible

Of what the world speaks of me, were mere

madness : And, though you are incredulous, I presume, If, as I kneel now, my eyes swoU'n with tears, My hands heaved up thus, my stretch'd heart-

strino-s readv To break asunder, my incensed lord (His storm of jealousy blown o'er) should hear

me, He would believe I lied not.

T/ieo. Rise, and see him, [Discovers himself. Oil his knees, with joy affirm it. Eud. Can this be ? T/ieo. My sisters, and the rest there ! — All bear

witness.

Enter Pltlcheria, Arcadia, Flaccilla, Chry- sAPius, Timantus, «W Philanax.

In freeing this incomparable lady From the suspicion of guilt, I do Accuse myself, and willingly submit To any penance sh'e injustice shall Please to impose upon me.

End. Royal sir, Your ill opinion of me's soon forgiven.

Pul. But how you can make satisfaction to The poor Paulinus, he being dead, in reason You must conclude impossible.

Thco. And in that I am most miserable ; the ocean

Ofjoy, which, in your innocence, flow'd high to me, Ebbs in the thought of my unjust comnumd. By which he died. O, Philanax, (as thy name- Interpreted speaks thee,) thou hast ever been A lover of the king, and thy whole life

540 THE E^rPEROR OE THE EAST.

Can witness thy obedience to my will,

In putting that in execution which

Was trusted to thee ; say but yet this once,

Thou hast not done what rashly I commanded,

And that Paulinus lives, and thy reward

Eor not performing that which I enjoin'd thee.

Shall centuple whatever yet thy duty

Or merit challenged from me.

Pliil. 'Tis too late, sir : He's dead ; and, when you know he was unable To wrong you in the way that you suspected, Youll wish it had been otherwise. Tlieo. Unable !

Phil. I am sure he was an eunuch, and might safely Lie by a virgin's side ; at four years made one, Though, to hold grace with ladies, he conceal'd it. The circumstances, and the manner how. You may hear at better leisure.

7 '//CO. How, an eunuch ! The more the proofs are that arc brought to clear

thee. My best Eudocia, the more my sorrows. Eiul. That I am iimocent? 7'//t'o. That I am j>-uiltv Of murder, my Eudocia. I will build A irlorious monument to his nu'morv ; And, for my ])unishment, li\ c- and die \.\\n)\\ it. And never more converse w itli men.

* Kntcr Paulinus.

Paul. Live long, sir ! Alay 1 do so to scinc' you ! and. if that 1 live (h)es not displease you, \<)u ow e lor it To tins good lord.

Thai. MvscU", and all that ^ mine.

THE EAIPEROR OF THE EAST. 341

Phil. Your pardon is a payment.

Theo. I am rapt With joy beyond myself. Now, my Eudocia, My jealousy puff 'd away thus, in this breath I scent the natural sweetness. [^Kisses her,

Arcad. Sacred sir, I am happy to behold this, and presume, Now you are pleased, to move a suit, in which My sister is join'd with me.

Thto. Prithee speak it ; For I have vow'd to hear before I grant ; — I thank your good instructions. [To Pidcheria.

Arcad. 'Tis but this, sir : We have observed the falling out and in Between the husband and the wife shews rarely; Their jars and reconcilements strangely take us.

Flac. Anger and jealousy that conclude inkisses Is a sweet war, in sooth.

Arcad. We therefore, brother, Most humbly beg you would provide us husbands, That we may taste the pleasure oft.

Flac. And with speed, sir; For so your favour's doubled.

Theo. Take my word, I will with all convenience ; and not blush Hereafter to be guided by your counsels : I will deserve your pardon. Philanax Shall be remember'd, and magnificent bounties Fall on Chrysapius ; my grace on all. Let Cleon be deliver'd, and rewarded. My grace on all, which as I lend to you, Return your vows to heaven, that it may please, As it is gracious, to quench in me All future spares of burning jealousy. [Exeunt.

342 THE EMPKROR OF THE EAST.

EPILOGUE.

We have reason to be doubtful, \\ lictber he, On wIkjhi (forced to it from necessity) The maker did confer liis emperor's part, Hath giv^en you satisfaction, in his art Of action and dehvery ; 'tis sure truth, The burtlien was too heavy for his youtli To undergo : — but, in Ids will, we know, He was not wanting, and shall ever owe, "With Ins, our service, if your favours deign To give him strength, hereafter to sustain A greater weight. It is your grace that can In your allowance of tliis, write liim man Before his time; which, if you please to do, You make the player and the poet too.'*

♦ TluMC is so niurli sfcrliiii; merit in stncial of (he iiuiilcnts and tlianictcrs ol (Iun IM;i\ , Uial tlu' nader is inclinid ((» over- look thiMvant (if unit \ in the story itself. It i> line, Alas^ini^er seems to liave been conseions of (his defrci, iimi 1ki> endea- vonred to remedy it by eontrivini; an earl) in(n'ilne(ion of Athenais, and by giving her some sliglit ronnexioii xsiiii I'anlinns ; for this is carefnily remembered in the last act, as oiu- of the cirrnmstanc c's wliieh jnstifv (lie jealousy of 'I'heo- dosins. liut (In- (hief and ( liaiaeteri^lick even( ean hardl) Ije said to bef^in till (he fduiih a( (. Most of tlif jucreding scenes arc a series of eonversations and ineidi-nts, rallu-r illu.»(ra(i\e of fiome of (he eharaeters, than neeis>ar> (o the subject ; |)rew(nis in the order of liislor\, but not strictly jirejjaratory (o (he plot; more oecupied \\i(h (he pubiick inlluence of l*nlcluMia, than uith (he privale ailettion nt j'.udoiia.

This reservation bi-ini; made, « »• eannot bul .idmiic the genuine dii^iiit) \\i(h wliitli the government and per>onal virtues

THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST. 343

of the Protcrtross arc announced; and (lie iiitcres(in2; contrast of the beautiful but lighter AUienais. Tlieodosius is connected with both : and is described Avith much fidelity of nature in every situation. His characteristick quality is weakness. His implicit obedience to his sister during a long pupilage ; his escape from it through the interested persuasions of others ; his facility, profusion, and uxorious subjection to Eudocia, are true marks of the same character. Nor are they contradicted by the vehemence into which he falls in the last act. Indeed, during this paroxysm he acts with a power apparently beyond himself. He accumulates circumstances of jealousy with much force and quickness. With a melancholy ingenuity, he perverts the con- solations of his friends into new proofs of his guilt ; and he coni- pels the most innocent thoughts of others to wear the stamp of his own madness. Still this is the vehemence of Thcodosius. His fury is the mere effect of uxoriousncss disappointed. He is enraged, not that his honour is tarnished, (for this he would fondly overlook,) but that he has lost the possession of Eudocia. It is the very impotence of his mind which lends him a mo- mentary vigour ; and all his apparent power is founded on his constitutional failing. In the confession scene he quickly loses his assumed character in the anxious husband ; and, at the assertion of her innocence, he rushes to his reconcilement with an eagerness which shews his true disposition, and renews all the ascendancy of her charms.

It is to be wished that this great merit Avere not accompanied with serious blemishes ; but sometimes the manners of Mas- singer's age are thrust, with more than their usual ill effect, into the history of Theodosi'us ; and sometimes his best characters are needlessly debased. Pulcheria falls into an improper dis- cussion of modern levities with the Informer, &c. Her sisters, contrary to the history of their time, are described as wanton, and rebellious against her authority : nor is there an object for this change of character ; they are merely degraded. The Countryman equals the judgment of Thcodosius with the Sunday maxims of the vicar of his parish ; and Thcodosius himself, pure and religious as Massinger really meant to represent him, loses his delicacy ; and when he has to choose a wife from the por- traits of the candidates, enlarges upon their properties with the licentiousness of an experienced debauche. It is observable, that in one part of this scene an aftention to the court bursts out. Thcodosius is impatient that he must judge the " sub- stance" of the ladies " by the shadow," and demands to see them " with his own eyes." Perhaps the king was not dis- pleased at the compliment bestowed by a Greek emperor on the notable project of courting the Spanish princess.

3U THE EMPEROR OF THE EAST.

A. word must be added concerning the sources from whitli Massiiiger has drawn his story. Coxeter briefly informs us that the plot is taken from the 7lh book of Socrates, and the 5th of Tfieodoret : and Mr. M. ^lasoii neither eontirins nor disproves this intelligence. But what is the plot ? Arcadia truly calls it, " the falling out and in

" Between the husband and the wife

and of the quarrel and reconcilement of Theodosius and Kudocia, the two writers referred to say not a word! It is not enoui^h that tliey mention other circumstances of Afhenais, and celebrate the virtues of Theodosius and liis sisters. The plot is still to be sought for: and Soromen, the other principal iiis- torian of that age, is as silent as the authorities of Coxeter. It will only be found in the later chroniclers. It does not appear that there is aii} full account ot Athenais earlier than tiie time of Malelas. Her love for Paulinus, equally handsome and elo- quent, is mentioned by Cedrenus; and the memorable apple, the cause of his death, by Theophaues. Fabr. liib. dro-c. lib. v. c. 1.

There seems to be some confusion in the dramatis personai of this, as well as of a former historical Play — Rowan Actor — Flaccilla is menlioned as one of the >ounger sisters of Theo- dosius. At all events this is wrong. Whatever testimony there is for her existence makes her older than Pulcheri.i. But Soxomen, who names the rest of the family, says nothing of lur. And if Philostorgins is to be believed, there was no sister of that name : for, in his account of the disgrace of Kutropius, he marks the time, h\ observing, tha(, in order to a^si^t her com- plaint with Arcailins, she carried with her (he two children already born, (Pulcheria and Arcadia,) and that iMarina and Theodosius were produced after that event. It is possible that the name of Marina, on)ilted by Arassinger from the list of the sisters, ma\ liave l)een bestowed on the waitiugwoman of Pidcheria. If so, it will rectif) the confusion noticed by the editor. Act II. sc. i. 'I'he "■ re\erend aunt, Maria," wlio assist* a( the baptism of Athenais, v\ as perhaps the wife of ilonorins, celebrated !)y Claudian.

In tt/iiii labor . Dii. Ireland.

THE

FAT A L

' R Y.

The Fatal Dowry.] This excellent Tragedy does not ap- pear to have been licensed by Sir H. Herbert ; nor is it ac- companied by any prologue or epilogue ; circumstances from Mhich Mr. Malone concludes that it Avas produced previous to 1620. However this be, it was not printed till 1632, before which time, the title-page says, it "had been often acted at the private house in Blackfriars, by his Majesty's servants."

Massinger was assisted in the Avriting of it by Nathaniel Field (of M'hom some mention is made in the Introduction). This would incline me to adopt the opinion of Mr. Malone ; for' the author seems to have trusted to his own resources after the period here mentioned ; all the pieces licensed by the master of the revels being his own composition.

From this Play Rowe borrowed, or, according to Cicero's distinction, stole, the plan of the Fair Fenitent^ a performance ])y which he is now chiefly known. The relative merits of the two pieces arc discussed by Mr. Cumberland, in the ingenious analysis which follows the present Tragedy ; and which I regret that he did not pursue to the conclusion, as the superiority of Massinger would have been still more apparent.

The author of the. Biograpliia Drcimatka says, that the pious behaviour of Charalois, in voluntarily giving up himself to im- prisonment as a ransome for the dead body of his father, is taken from the story of Cimon the Athenian, as related by Valerius Maximus.

dra:\iatis persox.e.

Piochfort, cx-premicr pre.siiknt of the parliament of

Dijon. Cliaralois, a noble gentleman, son to tJie deceased

marshal. Romont, a brare officer^ friend to Charalois. No vail senior, premier president of the parliament of

Dijon.

'^o\?i\\ junior^ his son, in loxexcith Ijeaimiellc,

Du Croy, president of the parliament o/"Dijon.

Charm i, a)i advocate.

Beanmont, secretary to Rochfort.

Pontalier, 'X r • i r^- n • • Tvr 1 4.- > riends of ysO\^\\ lumor.

Liladani, a parasite, dependent o)i ^ovdW jiniiur. Aynier, a singer, and keeper of a miisick- house, also

dependent on yoYiiW junior. Advocates. Three creditors. A Priest. Tailor. Barber. Perfumer. Page.

Rcaumcllc, daughter to Roclifbrt.

Ploriniel, \^se}'vants to Beaunicllc ; the latter the

Rcjllapcrt, / secret agent of xsoviiU junior.

Presidents, Captains, .Soldiers, jl/ouni(;rs, Cianler.

BailiJ/'s, Servants.

SCENE, Dijon

THE

FATAL DOWRY

ACT I. 'SCENE I.

A Street before the Court of Justice,

Enter Charalois with a paper, Pvomont, and

Charmi. ^

CJiar. Sir, I may move the court to serve 3'ouv will ; But therein shall both wrong you and myself,

Rom. Why think you so, sir ?

Char. 'Cause I am familiar With what will be ^heir answer : they will say, 'Tis against law, and argue me of ignorance. For offering them the motion.

Rom. You know not, sir, How, in this cause, they may dispense with law; And therefore frame not you their answer for

them, But do your parts.

Char. I love the cause so well, As* I could run the hazard of a check for't.

Rom. From whom ?

Char. Some of the bench, that watch to give it,

* K'i I could rim kc.~\ Former editors — That I could run. I do not love this modernising : by degrees no one will be allowed to speak the language of his age.

350 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Move than to do tlic ofticc that they sit for : Ikit o'ivc me, sir, my fee.

ivow. Now you are noble.

C7/^/r. I shall deserve this better yet, in giving i\Iy lord some counsel, if he please to hear it, Than I shall do uith pleading.

Jxoiu. What may it be, sir ?

Char. That it would please his lordship, as the ])residents And counsellors of court come by, to stand Here, and but shew himself,' and to some one Or tM'O, make his request : — there is a minute, A\'hen a mans presence speaks in his own cause, jVIore than the tongues of twenty advocates.

Rom. I have uriicd that.

Enter RocnFORT and D\j Croy.

Char, Their lordships liere are coming, I must go get me a place. You'll find me in court, And at your service. [Edit.

Rom. Now, j)ut on^ your sj)irits.

IJu Croy. The case tiiat you prepare yourself, my lord, In giving up the place you hold in court, Will proNC, 1 fear, a trouble in the state, And that no sliolit one.

Roch. Pray you, sir, no more.

Rom. Now, sir, lose not this ofl'crM means: their looks, TixM on you with a pitying earnestness, ln\ite you to <!( maiid their furtherance

^ //in, (Uid but s/ii-x himself, 1 This has hi'iii hi<hor(o priiilt^il blirw i/oiirsr/f. The iiitcs-,!!^ ol (lie alteration will, I trust, l)i' readily aekliow leil^ed.

■ IJniii. Xuxv, \nt{ u\i i/oiir spirits.] Rouse, animatf tlmm. Sec Vol. 1. 1). JUJ.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 351

To your good purpose : — this such a duhiess,

So foolish and untimely, as

Dii Croy. You know him ? Rodi. I do; and much lament the sudden fall Of his brave house. It is young Charalois, Son to the marshal, from whom he inherits His fame and virtues only. Rom. Ha ! they name you. Da Croy. His father died in prison two days

since. Rock. Yes, to the shame of this ungrateful state ; That such a master in the art of war, So noble and so highly meriting From this forgetful country, should, for want Of means to satisfy his creditors The sums he took up for the general good. Meet with an end so infamous.

Ram. Dare you ever Hope for like opportunity ? Dii Croy. My good lord ! Rock. My wish bring comfort to you ! Dii Croy. The time calls us. Rock. Good morrow, colonel !

\_E.veu)it Rodifort and Du Croy. Rom. This obstinate spleen. You think, becomes your sorrow, and sorts well AVith your black suits : but, grant me wit or

judgment, And, by the freedom of an honest man, And a true friend to boot, I swear 'tis shameful. And therefore flatter not yourself withi hope, Your sable habit, with the hat and cloak. No, though the ribands help, have power to

work them To what you would : for those that had no eyes

052 THE FATAL DOM^RV.

To see the great acts of your lather, will not, From any tasliion sorrow can put on, Be tauiiht to know their duties.

Cftaral. IK they will not, They are too old to learn, and I too young To give them counsel ; since, if they partake The understanding and the hearts of men, They will prevent my words and tears : if not, A\ hat can persuasion, though made eloquent A\'ith grief, work upon such as have changed

natures With the most savage beast ? Blest, blest be ever The memory of that happy age, M'hen justice Had no guards to keep oit' wrong'd innocence From flying to her succours, and, in that, Assurance of redress ! where* now, Romont, The damn VI with more ease may ascend from

hell. Than we arrive at her. One Cerberus there Forbids the passage, in our courts a thousand, As loud and fertile-headed ; and the client That \\ants the sops to lill their ravenous tiiroats, IMust hope for no access : why should I, then, Attempt inijjossibilities ; yoi , friend, being Too well actiuainted with mv dearth of means To make mv entrance tb.at way ?

lloni. \\'ould 1 Mere not ! But, sir, you have a cause, a cause so just, Of such necessity, n(jt to be deferr'd, As W(jnld conij)el a maid, whose foot was never Set o'er her lather's threshold, nor within

^ Assurance of redress ! ulierc norr, Tioinont.] So the quarto; \\\t' modfrn editors, in (lu'ir rag.* for ril'ormatmn, read,

^Iss 11 run re of rcdrr.Mi : wlU'reas ncu', llo/.n'nt, ■whicli reduce-, the line to u-rs lioinelv pros*. If /un iuixc/irreas Off iirs ( (Mitiiiuallv in lliese l>la_\ s, and, indeed, in all oiii old writeii.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 355

The house where she was horn, ever spake word Which was not usher'd with pure virgin hlushes, To drown the tempest of a pleader's tongue, And force corruption to give hack the hire It took against her. Let examples move you. You see men great in birth, esteem, and fortune, Rather than lose a scruple of their right, Fawn basely upon such, w^iose gowns put oif, They would disdain for servants.

Charal. And to these Can I become a suitor ?

Rom. Without loss : Would you consider, that, to gain their favours, Our chastest dames put off their modesties, Soldiers forget their honours, usurers Make sacrifice of gold, poets of wit. And men religious part with fame and goodness. Be therefore won to use the means that may Advance your pious ends.

Charal. You shall o'ercome.

Rom. And you receive the glory. Pray you, now practise.

Charal. 'Tis well.*

Enter ^ovA-Li. senior, Advocates, Liladam, and

three Creditors.

\Tenders Jiis petition.'] Not look on me !

Rom. You must have patience

Offer it again.

Charal. And be again contemn'd !

Nov. sen. I know what's to be done.

1 Cred. And, that your lordship Will please to do your knowledge, we offer first

5 Charal. "JT/.s ncllj] These two words I have given to Cha- ralois, to whom they of right belong : they have hitherto been alloted to Romont.

VOL. III. A a

354> THE FATAL DOWRY.

Our tliankt'ul hearts here, as a bounteous earnest To what we will add.

Isfov. sen. One word more of this, I am your enemy. Am 1 a man Your bribes can work on? ha? Ldad. Friends, you mistake The way to win my h)rd ; he must not hear this^ But I, as one in favour, in his sight ]\Iay hearken to you tor my profit. Sir ! Pray hear them. A or. sen. It is welL Lilad. Observe him now.

Nov. sen. Your cause being good, and your proceedings so, Without corruption I am your friend ; Speak your desires.

2 Cred. Oli, they are cliaritable ; The marslial stood engaged unto us three Two hundred tiiousand crowns, wliicli, by \\\>

death, We are defeated of: for whicli great loss W^e aim at nothing l)ut his rotten llesli ; Nor is that cruelty.

1 Crcd. I liave a son Tliat talks of notliing but of ^•uil^ and annoui. Ami swears lie'U be a soldier; 'tis an humour 1 would divert him from; and I am told. That if I minister to him, in his driid^, Po^\ (ler made of this bankrui)t marshars bones. Provided that the carcass rot above ground, 'Twill cure his foolish frenzv.

Nov. sen. \ ()U shew in it A father's care. 1 liaxc a son myself, A fashionable gentleman, and a j)e.icct'ul; And, but I am assured he's not so given, lie should take of it Loo.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 355

Charal. Sir !

Nov. sen. What are you ?

Charal. A gentleman/

Nov. sen. So are many that rake diino-hills. If you have any suit, move it in court : T take no papers in corners. [E.vit»

Rom. Yes, As the matter may be carried, and whereby To manage the conveyance Follow him.

Lilad. You are rude : I say he shall not pass. [Exeunt Charalois and Advocates.

Rom. You say so ! On what assurance ?

For the well cutting of his lordship's corns, Picking his toes, or any office else Nearer to baseness !

Lilad. Look upon me better ; Are these the ensigns of so coarse a fellow ? Be well advised.

Ro?n. Out, rogue ! do not I know These glorious weeds spring from the sordid I dunghill

Of thy^officious baseness? wert thou worthy Of any thing from me, but my contempt, I would do more than this,- — [Beats him.^ — more, you court-spider !

Lilad. But that this man is lawless, he should find That I am valiant.

1 Cred. If vour ears are fast, 'Tis nothing. What's a blow or two ? as much.

« Charal. 5/r / Nov. sen. What arc you ?

Charal. A gentleman.] So I have regulated these speeches ; they formerly stood thus :

lie should take of it too. — S'ir / ichat are you '? Charal. A gentleman. I believe that the modest Charalois, encouraged by Romontj ventures to address himself to Novall.

A a 2

336 THE FATAL DOWRY.

2 Cred. These chastisements as useful are as f re queue, To such as would grow rich.

Rom. Arc thcv so, rascals ? I will bclVicncl you, then. [^Kicks them.

1 Cred. Bear witness, sirs !

Z//«r/.Trut]i, I have horn my part already, friends : In the court you shall have more. [E.iit.

Rom. I know you for The worst of spirits, tliat strive to rob the tomljs Of what is their inheritance, the dead : For usurers, bred by a riotous peace. That hold the charter of your wealth and freedom By being knaves and cuckolds ; that ne'er pray, But when a'ou fear the rich heirs will orow wise, To keep their lands out of your parchment toils ; And then, the devil your father's call'd upon, To invent some ways of luxury ne'er thouu:ht on. Be gone, and cjuickly, or I'll leave no room Upon your foreheads for your horns to sprout on — Without a nuirnuir, or I w ill undo \ou, I'or I will beat you honest,

1 Cred Thrift forbid ! We will bear this, rather than haz:ird that.

[Ed-einit ( 'rcditors.

Re-enter Chaualois.

Rom. I am somewhat cased in this vet.

Char. Only friend, To what \a\\\ purpose do 1 make my sorrow A\'ait on the triumpli ot llu-ir cruelty? Or teach their j)ri(lc, fiom my humility. To think it has o'eicome ? They are dclcrmincti AV'hat the} will do; and it may well become me, To rob them of the glory they expect From my suhmi^s entreaties.

Rum. Think not so, sir:

THE FATAL DOWRY. 357

The difficulties that you encounter with Will crown the undertaking — heaven ! you weep: And I could do so too, hut that I know There's more expected from the son and friend Of him whose fatal loss now shakes our natures, Than sighs or tears, in which a village nurse, Or cunning strumpet, when her knave is hang'd, May overcome us. We are men, young lord, Let us not do like women. To the court, And there speak like your birth : wake sleeping

justice, Or dare the axe. This is a way will sort With what you are : I call you not to that I will shrink from myself; I will deserve Your thanks, or suffer with you — O how bravely' That sudden fire of anger shews in you ! Give fuel to it. Since you are on a shelf Of extreme danger, suffer like yourself. [E.veimt.

SCENE IL

The Court of Justice.

Enter Rochfort,' Novall senior, Presidents, Charmi, Du Croy, Beaumont, Advocates, three Creditors, ayid Officers.

Du Croy. Your lordships seated, may this meeting prove Prosperous to us, and to the general good Of Burgundy !

A^'ov. sen. Speak to the point,

Du Croy. Which is

7 0, hoxu bravely &c.] This Romont is a noble fellow. Warm, generous, high-spirited, disinterested, faithful, and affectionate, his copy, or rather his shadow, Horatio, dwindles into perfect insigniticance on the comparison.

35S THE FATAL DOWRY.

M'itli honour to disjjose the place and power Ot" premier president, w liich tliis reverend man, Grave Uoelil'ort, whom for honour's sake I name, Is purposed to resign ; a pkice. my hjrds, In whieh he hatli witli sueli integrity Pertbrm'd the first and best parts of a judge. That, as liis Hfe transcends all fair examples Of such as were before him in Dijon, So it remains to those that shall succeed him, A j)recedent they may imitate, but not C(]ual.'

Rock. 1 may not sit to hear this.

Du Croii. Let the love And thankfulness we are bound topay togoodness, In this o'ercomc your modesty.

Rocli. My thanks For this great favour sliall prevent your trouble. The lioiiourable trust that Mas imposed L^pon my w^eakness, since you witness for me It was not ill discharged, 1 will not mention ; Nor now, if age had not deprived me of The little strenf>-th I had to «i-overn well The province that I undertook, forsake it.

Aov. sen. That we could lend you of our yeari !

l^ii Croif. Or strength !

Nov. se/i. Or, as you are, persuade you to continue The noble exercise of your knoMing judgment !

Rucli. Tliat may not be; nor can your lord- ships" goodness. Since your employments have conferral upon me Sufficient m ealtli, dcnv the use of it : And, thf)ugh old age, when one foot's in thegi"a\c, In many, when all humours idse arc spent,

' .7 ptciidtnt tinii nun/ imidifc, hut nof cijiitil ] So <lic old rop> . Cdxi'liT and Mr. .M. Mason, witli i-qiial atI\antai;o to the si'iifci" and liarnioiiy of (lie line, n'ad,

A i>i(xcd(nt tlwiL tli(ij via^ imitate^ but not Ojual!

THE FATAL DOWRY. 359

Feeds no affection in them, but desire

To add height to the mountain of their riches,

In me it is not so. I rest content

With the lionours and estate I now possess :

And, that I may have liberty to use

What heaven, still blessing my poor industry,

Hath made me master of, I pray the court

To ease me of my burthen, that I may

Employ the small remainder of my life

In living well, and learning how to die so.

Enter Romont and Charalois.

Rom. See, sir, our advocate.

T>u Croy. The court entreats Your lordship will be pleased to name the man, Which you would have your successor, and, in me, All promise to confirm it.

Roch. I embrace it As an assurance of their favour to me, And name my lord Novall.

Du Croy. The court alloM^s it.

Roch. But there are suitors wait here, and their causes May be of more necessity to be heard ; I therefore wish that mine may be deferr'd, And theirs have hearing.

DuCroy. If your lordship please \ToNov.sen. To take the place, we will proceed.

Char. The cause We come to offer to your lordships' censure, Is in itself so noble, that it needs not Or rhetorick in me that plead, or favour From your grave lordships, to determine of it ; Since to the praise of your impartial justice (Which guilty, nay, condemn'd men, dare not scandal)

360 THE FATAL DOWRY.

It will erect a trophy of your mercy, Which married to that justice

JSov. sen. Speak to the cause.

Char. I M'ill, my lord. To say, the late dead marsliai, The father of this young lord here, my client, Hath done his country 2,reat and faithful service, !Might task me of impertineiict', to repeat What your grave lordships cannot hut remember. He, in his life, became indebted to These thrifty men, (1 will not wrong their credits, By giving them the attributes they now merit,) And failing, by the fortune of the wars. Of means to free himself from his engagements, He was arrested, and, for Mant of bail, Imprisoned at their suit; and, not long after, With loss of liberty, ended his life. And, though it be a maxim in our laws, All suits die with the person, these men's malice In death iintls matter for their hate to work on. Denying him the decent rites of burial, ° Which the sworn enemies of tlie Christian faith

9 Dent/iiig him the decent rites of burial,^ Herodotus tolls us that Asychis, the grandson of Cheops, to facilitate the bor- rowiiiu; of nionev, allowed the K^^ i)<iaiis to pledge the dead bodies of their parents, uhich, unttil redeemed by pa>nient of the sums advanced, could not be deposited in the sepulchres of their fathers. In imitation of (his monarch, modern states have sanctiont'd the arrest of a ])er.s(iii's drad boiU (ill his debts bo. paid: but what was in Asulii.s a wise in.stituliou^ is iu hi^ f«)l- lowers a gratuitous act of absurd and savage barbarity. With the ancients, the fate of a human being was not decided by death ; hi& entrance into a htale of rest dependid upon a due perfornianc f of liis obM-ijuies; and his relations and friends >vt-rr, therefore, impelled by the most puwerful motives, to dis- jliaim' liis nbli^'ulioii-., and seal liis doom. NVo, on the contrary, kni)« from divine a\itlioril\, (hat "as the tree lalletli, so it must lie," and (li.ii no action subsequent to a jnan's dcccast", can alfect his destiny.

THE FATAL DO^yRY. 361

Grant freely to their slaves. May it therefore

please Your lordships so to fashion your decree, That, AV'hat their cruelty doth forbid, your pity May give allowance to.

JVav. .sen. How long have you, sir, Practised in court ?

Char. Some twenty years, my lord.

Nov. sen. By your gross ignorance, it should appear Not twenty days.

Char. I hope I have given no cause In this, my lord.

Nov. sen. How dare you move the court To the dispensing with an act confirm'd By parliament, to the terrour of all bankrupts ? Go home ; and with more care peruse the statutes : Or the next motion, savouring* of this boldness, May force you, sir, to leap, against your will, Over the place you plead at.

Char. I foresaw this.

Rom. Why, does your lordship think themovins: of A cause more honest than this court had ever The honour to determine, can deserve A check like this ?

Nov. sen. Strang;e boldness !

Rom. 'Tis fit freedom : Or, do you conclude an advocate cannot hold His credit \vith the judge, unless he study His face more than the cause for which he pleads ?

Char. Forbear.

Rom. Or cannot you, tliat have the power To qualify the rigour of the laws When you are pleased, take a little from

* Or the next motion, savouring of this boldness,'] So the old copy j the moderns rca,(\,f(ivoun/ig.

3(72 THE FATAL DOWRY.

The strictness of voiir sour decrees, enacted In favour of tlie greedy creditors, Airainst tlie o'ertlirown del)tor?

Nov. SOL Sirrali ! you tliat prate Thus saucily, wliiit are you ?

Rom. Why, I'll tell thee, Thou purple-colourd man ! I am one to whom Thou ow'st the means thou hast of sitting there, A corrupt elder.

Char. Forbear.

Rom. The nose tliou wear'st is my giftj and those eyes, Tiiat meet no object so base as their master, Had been long since torn from that guilty liead, And thou thyself slave to some needy Swiss,^ Had I not worn a sword, and used it better Than, in tliv prayers, thou ever didst thy tono-uc.

Nov. sen. Shall sueli an insolence pass unpu- nisli'd !

Cluir. Hear me.

Rom. Yet I, tliat, in my service done my country, Disdain to be put in the scale with thee, Confess myself unworthy to be valued A\'ilh the least part, nay, hair of the dead marshal • Of whose so many glorious undertakings, [Make choice of any one, and that the meanest, Perform'd against the subtile fox of France, The politick Louis, or the more (lesj)erate Swiss, And "twill ()ul^\cigh all the good j)urp()ses, '1 hough put in act, that cNcrgownmau ])ractiscd.

* And thuu thi/sclf slarv to snryc iircdi/ Swiss,] l( iii;i'\ iini l)i» amiss to observe here, tliat llurmimh (in the <;i|iital ot wliich the hrene is laid) uas a pouerliil anil iiulepeiident slate. It ni:j;ht. perhaps, have rouliniicd so, but lor the aniliitious and d»«itrurii\e warfare ^\ liii h the last oi" its soven'it;!!*. niadl\ ear- rifd on aeainst thr conl'ederatcd cantons.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 363

Nov. sen. Away with him to prison !

Rom. If that curses/ Urged justly, and hreath'd forth so, ev^er fell On those that did deserve them, let not mine Be spent in vain now, that thou from this instant Mayst, in thy fear that they Avill fall upon thee, Be sensihle of the plagues they shall bring with

them. And for denying of a little earth To cover what remains of our great soldier, May all your wives prove whores, your factors

thieves, And, while you live, your riotous heirs undo3'Ou ! And thou, the patron of their cruelty, Of all thy lordships live not to be ov/ner Of so much dung as will conceal a dog, Or, Avhat is worse, thyself in! And thy years, To th'end thou mayst be wretched, I wish many; And, as thou hast denied the dead a grave, May misery in thy life make thee desire one, Which men and all the elements keep from thee ! — I have begun well; imitate, exceed.

\To Charalois.

Roch. Good cou-nsel, were it a praiseworthy deed. \ Exeunt Officers with Romont.

Dii Croy. Remember what we are,

Chaval. Thus low my duty Answers your lordship's counsel. I Y>^ill use. In the iQw words with which I am to trouble Your lordship's ears, the temper that you wish mc; Not that I fear to sj)eak my thoughts as loud,

^ Rom. If that curses^ &c.] To this most animated speech Otway seems indebted for the imprecations which he makes the indignant Pierre pour upon the government of Venice. The reader, whom curiosity may le;ul to compare the two scenes, will find how much the copy falls beneath the original, not only in dclicacyj but in spirit.

354 THE FATAL DOWRY.

And with a liberty beyond Romont :

But that I know, tornie, that am made up

Ot" all that's wretched, so to haste my end,

Woidd seem to most rather a willingness

To quit the burthen of a hopeless lite,

Than scorn otdeatli, or duty to the dead.

I, theretore, bring the tribute of my praise

To your severity, and commend the justice

That Mill not, for the many seryices

That any man hath done the common\\'calth,

^\'ink at his least of ills. What tiiough my father

A\'rit man before he was so, and conlirm'd it,

JU' numbering that day no part of his life,

In which he did not seryice to his country ;

Was he to be free, therefore, from the laws

And ceremonious form in your decrees !

Or else, because he did as much as man,

In tliose three memorable oycrthrows

At Granson, ]Morat, Nancy, where his master,*

The warlike Charalois, (with whose misfortunes

I bear his name,) lost treasure, men, -and life.

To be excused from payment of those sums

Which (his own patrimony spent) his zeal

To serve his country forced him to take up !

J\ov. min. The precedent were ill.

Cluiral. And yet, my lord, this much,

♦ In those three memorable overthrows

At Granson, Moral, Nancy, &c.] These wore indeed me- Biorablf, since tiiey ucre ^iven by ilUarnied and undisciplined rusticks (invij^oraled, indeed, by tlic calm and rearlc>s sjiirii of genuine liberty) to arDiies supcriour to tlieniseives in numbers, and coinposed of re;:idar troojjs from some of the most warlike iialioii> in Ivirope. I'he tncrthnm- of (iniiison took j)lacf, March 3d, 147G: that of .iyw/«/', Jimc '2'Jd, in the hame year; and that (»f Nanci/, Janiiar) oth 1 177. In this Chailis (or, as he is here called, from tiie Latin, Charalois) duke of IJur, gundy fell; and the mbtile fox of France^ the poUtuk Louis XI. hhorlly after seized upon llie defenceless dutthy, and united it to his own kinj;doin.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 36j

I know, you'll grant ; after those great defeatures, Whicli in their dreadful ruins buried quiek

Re-enter Officers.

Courage and hope in all men but himself. He forced the proud foe, in his heigiit of conquest, To yield unto an honourable peace ; And in it saved an hundred thousand lives, To end his own, that was sure proof against The scalding summer's heat, and winter's frost, 111 airSj the cannon, and the enemy's sword. In a most loathsome prison.

Du Croy. 'Twas his fault To be so prodigal.

Nov. sen. He had from the state Sufficient entertainment for the army.

Chared. Sufficient, my lords ! You sit at home. And, though your fees are boundless at the bar.

Are thrifty in the charges of the war

But your wills be obey'd. To these I turn, To these soft-hearted men, that wisely know They're only good men that pay what they owe.

^ Cred. And so they are.

1 Cred. It is the city doctrine ; ^ We stand bound to maintain it.

CJiaral. Be constant in it; And since you are as merciless in your natures, As base and mercenary in your means By vvhich you get your wealth, I will not urge The court to take away one scruple from

5 It is the city doctrine ;~\ Thus in the Merchmit of Venice:

" Shv. Antonio is a <iOod man.

*' Bass. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ?

"" Shy. No, no, no; — my meaning in saying he is a good *' man, is to have you understand mc that his rneans arc " sufficient."

S66 Tin: FATAL DOMRY.

Tlie rii^'lit of tlicir laws, or [wisbj* one good

thouo'ht In you to mend your disposition \\ itii. I know there is no musiek to your ears So pleasing as the groans of men in prison, And that tlie tears of widows, and tlie eries Of faniish'd orplians, are tlie feasts tliat take you. That to be in your danger/ with more care ShouUl be avoided than infectious air, Tlie loathed embraces of diseased Monien, A flatterer's poison, or the Loss of honour. — Yet rather than my father's reverend dust Shall want a place in that fair monument In which our noble ancestors lie intomb'd, Before the court I offer up myself A {)risoncr for it. Load me M'ith those irons That have worn out his life ; in my best strength 111 run to the tncounter of cold, liunger, And choose my dwelling m here no sun dares enter, So he may be released.

1 Cred. What mean you, sir?

♦J Advo. Only your fee again: there's so much said Already in this cause, and said so well, That, should I only offer to speak in it, I should be or not heard, or lauglfd at for it.

1 Crcd. 'Tis the lirst money advocate e'er gii\ c back, Though he said nothinij:.

'' The right of I heir lu'u's, or ("wish] our i^aoil thoui^ht

I/I j/ou Sic.\ A in()ii(jsvllul)li' has dropt out at the prc^s. I have ciideaNourrd to coniplctf thcniotro and, perhaps, the snisr, i)\ file addilloii in bracki-ts: it is a lil)t'it\ that I si'lduiu take, ;iind iiiviT «itliout i,i\ini; thi' ri'adiT noliro of i(.

' to he in \ our danprr. I i. o. (o !)•• in \onr di hi :

•d. coinniun t'\j)rfssioii in our old writers; thus Portia. '• ^ on sfand xiifhinhis du/i<^cr, do > on not ;"

Merchant of' Venice.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 367

Rock, Be advised, young lord, ,

And well considerate ; you throw away Your liberty and joys of life together : Your bounty is employ'd upon a subject That is not sensible of it, with Mdiich wise man Never abused his goodness. The great virtues Of your dead father vindicate themselves From these men's malice, and break ope the prison, Though it contain his body.

Nov. se?L Let him alone : If he love cords, in God's name let him wear them : Provided these consent.

CJiCiral. I hope they are not So ignorant in any way of prolit, As to neglect a possibility To get their own, by seeking it from that Which can return them nothing but ill fame, And curses, for their barbarous- cruelties.

3 Cred. What think you of the offer? '

2 Cred. Very well.

1 Cred. Accept it b}' all means. Let's shut

him up ; He is well shaped,, and has a villainous tongue, And, should he study that way of revenge, As I dare almost swear he loves a wench. We have no wives, nor never shall get daugh- ters. That will hold out against him. Du Croi/. Wliat's your answer?

2 Cred. Speak you for all.

1 CVcy/. \Vhy, let our executions That lie upon the father be return 'd Upon the son, and we release the body.

Nov. sen. The court must grant you that

Charal. I thank your lordsliips. They have in it confirm'd on me such glory As no time can take from ine : I am rcadv.

568 T H E FATA L D O W RV.

Come, lead me where you please. Captivity, That comes with honour, is true liberty,

[E.veunt Charalois, Charmi, Ojjlcers cuidCreditorSt

Nov. sen. Strange rashness !

Roch. A brave resolution rather, Worthy a better fortune: but, however, It is not now to be disputed; therefore To my own cause. Already I have found Your lordships bountiful in your favours to me, And tliat should teach my modesty to end here, And press your loves no further.

Dii Croy. There is nothiiig- The court can grant, but with assurance you May ask it, and obtain it.

lloch. You encourage A bold petitioner, and 'tis not fit Your favours should be lost : besides, 't'as been A custom many years, at the surrendering The ])Iacc I now give up, to grant the president One boon, that parted with it: and, to confirm Your grace towards me, against all such as may Detract my actions and life hereafter, I now prefer it to you.

Dii Croy. Speak it freely.

Rocli. I then desire the liberty of Romont, And that my lord No vail, whose private M'rong A\'as efjual U) the injury that was done To the dignit}' of the court, Mill pardon it And now sign his enlargement.

Nov. sen. Pray you demand The moiety of my estate, or au} thing M'ithin my power but this.

Roch. Am I denied then I\Iv lirst and last recpiest? ■ J^n ('roff. It must not be.

iJ Pre. 1 have a voice to give in it.

3 Pre. And I.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 369

And if persuasion will not work him to it, We Avill make known our power,

Nov. sen. You are too violent ; You shall have my consent : but would you had Made trial of my love in any thing But this, you should have found then — ^but it

skills not ; Yoii have what you desire.

Rock. I thank your lordships.

Dit Croi/. The court is up. Make way.

[^Exeunt all but Rochjort and Rtaumont,

Roch. I follow you. Beaumont !

Beau. I\Iy lord.

Roch. You are a scholar, Beaumont ; And can search deeper into the intents of men, Than those that are less knowing. — How appear'd The piety and brave behaviour of Young Charalois to you ?

Beau. It is my wonder, Since I want language to express it fully : And sure the colonel

Roch. Fie ! he was faulty. What present money have I }

Beau. There's no want Of any sum a private man has use for.

Roch. 'Tis well : I am strangely taken with this Charalois. IVIethinks, from his example the whole age Should learn to be good, and continue so. A^irtue works strangely with us ; and his goodness Rising above his fortune, seems to me, Prince-like, to will, not ask, a courtesy. [Exeunt.

VOL. iir. B b

370 THE FATAL DOWTxY

ACT II. SCEXi: L

A .Street befoi^e the Prison.

Enter Pontalier, IMalotin, aiid Beaumont,

Mai. 'Tis strann-c.

Bean. Mctliinks so.

Pont. In a man Init vounLr, Yet old in judgment ; theorick and practick In all hnmanity/ and, to increase the Monder, Religions, yet a soldier; that lie shonid Yield his free-living- yonth a captive tor The freedom of his aged fathers corpse, And rather choose to want life's necessaries, Liherty, hope of fortune, than it should In death he kept from Christian ceremony.

J/a/. Come, 'tis a golden precedent in a son, To let stron"- nature have tlie hetter hand, In such a case, of all affected reason. What years sit on tliis Charalois ^

Beau. TM'entv-ei"ht : For since the clock did strike him seventeen ohl. Under his father's wing this son hath fought. Served and commanded, and so aptly hoth, That sometimes he aj)pear'(l his father's fatlier, And never less than's son ; the old man's virtues So recent in him, as the world may swear, Nouglit hut a fair tree could such fair fruit heai'.

P'nit. ])Ut w luTcforc lets he such a l)arl)arous law , And men more haiharous to execute it, Prevail on liis soft disjxjsit ion, 'Jiiat he IkkI ratlu t dii- ali\c lor dcht

" la <i// huiuuiiit|,J i. c. i/i all j nlite literature;

T H E FATA L D O W R Y. 3/1

Of the old man, in prison, tlian they should Rob him of sepulture ; considering" These monies borrow'd bought the lenders pe^tce. And all the means they enjoy, nor were diffused In any impious or licentious path?

Beau. True! for my part, were it my father's trunk, The tyrannous ram-heads with their horns should

gore it, Or cast it to their curs, than they less currish, Ere prey on me so with their lion- law, Being in my free will, as in his, to shun it.

Font. Alas ! he knows himself in poverty lost: For in this partial avaricious age What price bears honour? virtue? lono* asro It was but praised, and freezed; but now-a-days 'Tis colder far, and has nor love nor praise : The very praise now freezeth too; for nature Did make the heathen far more Christian then, Than knowledge us, less heathenish, Christian.

jMal. This morning is the funeral ?

Font. Certainly, And from this prison, — 'twas the son's request. That his dear father i^ight interment have, See, the young son enter'd a lively grave !'

Beau. Tliev come: — observe their order.

* 5ee, t/te young son enter'd a lively grave !~\ i. e. a livia« grave, so he calls the prison. The quarto has:

See the young nan inter'd a lively grave. The small change here made restores the passage to sense. Mr. M. Mason would read — enters alive the grave, which I should like better, if the preceding line had dead instead of dear father. The old reading, however, is defended by Mr. Gilchrist, who observes that there is a similar combination of words just above,

" He had rather die alive for debt." And also in Samwn Agonisfe-s :

" Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave." t. 102.

These passages are, indeed, strikingly similar j but they are not

f*r that the more iutelligible

D*

BbSl

372 THE FATAL DO WHY.

Solemn Mimch. Enter the Funeral Procession. The Cafjin born bi/ four, preceded bij a Priest. (Aip- tains, Lieutenants, Ensigns^ and Soldiers; Jilour- nej^s, Scutcheons, ^x. and very good order. Ro- MONT ajul CiiARA LOIS, Jolloiced bi) the Gaolers and Ojjicers, ivith Creditors, meet it.

CharaL How like a silent stream shaded with night, And o;lidin<2: softly with our windy siohs, Moves the whole frame of this solemnity ! Tears, sighs, and hlacks* filling the simile ; Whilst I, the only murmur in this "-rove Of death, thus hollowly hreak forth. Vouchsafe

[To the Bearers. To stay awhile. — Rest, rest in peace, dear earth! Thou that brou^'ht'st rest to their unthankful

lives, Whose cruelty denied thee rest in death ! Here stands thy poor executor, thy son, That makes his life j)ris()ner to hail thy tleath ; AVho gladlier puts on this caj)tivity. Than virgins, long in love, their wedding Meeds. Of all that ever thou hast done u-ood to, These only have good memories ; for they Remendjcr best foru;et not «:;ratitude. I thank you for this last and friendly love:

['To the Soldiers. And though this country, like a viperous mother. Not only hath eat up ungratefully All means/)f thee, her son, hut last, thyselt", Leaving tliy heir so l)are and indigi'nt, He cannot raise thee a poor monument, Such as a flatterer or a usurer hath ;

• Tears, siglis, and blacks'&c] Blacks arc constantly usiil bv onr old writc-ib for nioiiniiiii^ vci'ds.

THE FATAL DOWRY, 373

Thy worth, in every honest breast, builds one, Making their friendly hearts thy funeral stone.^

Font. Sir.

Charal. Peace ! O, peace ! this scene is wholly mine. What! weep ye, soldiers? blanch not. — Romont

weeps.

Ha ! let me see ! my miracle is eased, The gaolers and the creditors do weep ; Even they that make us weep, do weep themselves. Be these thy body's balm ! these and thy virtue Keep thy fame ever odoriferous, Whilst the great, proud, rich, undeserving man, Alive stinks in his vices, and, being vanish'd, The golden calf, that was an idol deck'd With marble pillars, jet, and porphyry. Shall quickly, both in bone and name, consume. Though wrapt in lead, spice, searcloth, and per- fume !

1 Cred. Sir.

Charal. What ? away, for shame ! you, profane rogues, Must not be mingled with these holy relicks : This is a sacrifice ;^ — our shower shall crown

* Thy worth, in exery honest breast^ builds one, Making their friendly hearts thy funeral stonc.'\ Had Pope Massinger in his thoughts when he wrote his epitaph on Gay ? " These are thy honours ! not that here thy bust " Is mix'd with heroes, or with kings thy dust ; " But that the virtuous and the good shall say, " Striking their pensive bosoms, — Here lies Gay?" I cannot avoid adding, that Johnson must have written his comments on this little production, in a fit of the spleen, and a very dull one too. They cannot injure Pope, but they may do some harm to himself.

^ This is a sacrifice ;] From which the profane were excluded. He alludes to the ancient form of adjuration, Ex«j, exa? £o-te,

p6to»jXo»,

S7i. THE FATAL DOWRY.

His sepulchre Mitli olive, myrrli, and bays, The plants ot* peace, of sorrow, victory; "^ our tears wouUl spring but weeds.

1 Cycd. 'Would they so ! "^^'e'll keep them to stop bottles then.

Rom. No, keep them For your own sins, you roi>ucs, till von repent; 1 ou'll die else, and be damn'd.

52 Cm/. Damn'd!— ha! ha! ha!

Jiom. Laugh ye ?

3 CrciL Yes, faith, sir; we would be very glad To please you either way,

1 Cred. You are ne'er content, Crvino; nor lauo-hino-.

1x0711. Both with a birth, ye rogues?

52 Cred. Our wives, sir, taught us,

Ro7}2. Look, look, you slaves ! your thankless cruel tv, And savage manners of unkind Dijon, Exhaust these floods, and not liis father's death.

1 Cred. "Slid, sir ! wliat would you? you're so

cholerick !

2 Cred. ]\Iost soldiers are so, i'faith ; — let him

alone. They have little else to live on, A\'e've not had A penny of him, have "\\ e ?

u Cred. 'Slight ! Mould } on have our hearts?

1 Cred. 'We have iiothin"- but his bodv here in durance For all our money.

Priest. On.

Cluiral. One moment more, , Ihit to bestow a few poor legacies, All I lia\i' left in m\ dead lather's rights, And I have done. (';!ptain, wear thou these spurs, 'i'b;it yet ne cr made his horse run from a foe. Lieutenant, thou tiiis scarf; and nui} it tic

THE FATAL DOWRY. 37J

Thy valour and thy honesty together ! For so it did in him. Ensign, this cuirass, Your general's necklace once. You, gentle bearers, Divide this purse of gold ; this other, stre\v

Among the poor; 'tis all I have. Romont ■

Wear thou this medal of himself that, like

A hearty oak, grew'st close to this tall pine, Even in the wildest Avilderness of war, Whereon foes broke their swords, and tired them- selves : Wounded and hack'd ye were, but never fell'd.

For me, my portion provide in heaven !

My root is earth'd, and I, a desolate branch, Left scatter'd in the highway of the world, Trod under foot, that might have been a colun;in Mainly supporting our demolish'd house.

This would I wear* as my inheritance

And what hope can arise to me from it, When I and it are both here prisoners ! Only may this, if ever we be free, Keep or redeem me from all infamy.

A DIRGE TO SOLEMN MUSICK.'

1 Cred. No further; look to them at your own

peril. Q Cred. No, as they please: their master's a

good man.

I would they were at the Bermudas !

Gaol. You must no further. The prison limits you, and the creditors Exact the strictness.

Ro77i. Out, you wolvish mongrels !

* This icould I wear &c,] i. c. his father's sword. M. Mason.

5 I have followed the quarto, in throwing these rhymes toge- ther at the end of the play. I wish 1 could have thrown them quite away, for, to confess the truth, they are good for nothing.

C,76 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Whose brains slioulcl be knock'cl out, like dogs

ill July, Lest your intcction poison a \\hole town.

CharaL Tiiev j>iu(lo;e our sorrow. Your ill

wills, pcrlorec, Turn now to charity : they w ould not have us Walk too far mourning; usurers' relief Grieves, if the debtors have too much of grief

SCENE IL'^

A Room in Rochfort's House. Enter Beaumelle, Flouimel, <^///^/ Bellapeut.

Beaumel. I prithee tell me, Florimel, why do women marry ?

Floy. Why truly, madam, I think, to lie with their husbands.

Bell. You are a fool. She lies, madam; women many husbands, to lie M'ith other men.

Flor. 'Faith, even such a woman ^\ ilt thou make. By thi:i. light, madam, this wagtail ^^ ill spoil } ou, if you take delight in her license.

Hcainnel. 'Tis true, Florimel; and thou wilt make me too o'ood tor a vounu; lailv. ^^ hat an electuary found my father out ibr his daughter, "when lu' compounded yoii t \. o my women! tor llujn, I'lorimel, art evenagrain too heavy, simpl\, for a waiting-gentlewoman

'' I will not vcnliMf (o proiuximc (he fmo scone wr liavi* jiis» Imishcil to I)c writlcii l)v l'"iflil, (iioiii;h \ nilt-rtaiii lew tloiihK ol it ; hut I iiiii cdiilidiiit that iio( a line ol lliis to w iiicli Ml' arc now arriMil was coinposcd by Massint;iM-. It is not in his niaiiiHT. rnJiicUily tlir pDcl's associatrs wore soiiicwliat like Dr. .loliiisoii'b patrons — (hey fii(unibiT(il''hini \\illi (hiMr a&sistanrc.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 377

Flor. And thou, Bellapert, a grain too light.

Bell. Well, go thy ways, goody wisdom,' whom iiohody regards. I wonder whether be elder, thou or thy hood? You think, because you served my lady's mother, are thirty-two years old, which is a pip" out, you know

Flor. Well said, whirligig.

Bell. You are deceived : I want a peg in the middle. — Out of these prerogatives, you think to be mother of the maids here, and mortify them "with proverbs : go, go, govern the sweetmeats, and weigh the sugar, that the wenches steal none; say your prayers twice a day, and, as I take it, you have performed your function.

Flor. I may be even with you.

Bell. Hark ! the court's broke up. Go, help my old lord out of his caroch, and scratch his head till dinner-time.

Flor. Well. {E.vit.

Bell. Fie, madam, how you walk ! By my maidenhead, you look seven years older than you did this morning. Why there can be nothing under the sun valuable to make 3'ou thus a minute.

Beaumel. Ah, my sweet Bellapert, thou cabinet To all my counsels, thou dost know the cause That makes thy lady wither thus in youth.

Bell. Uds-light! enjoyyourwishes: whilstllive,

7 Bell. Well, go thy uai/s, goody Avisdom, whom nobody re- gards.] This flippant allusion to Scripture, were there no other proofs, would be sufficient to convince every attentive reader, that it could not proceed from Massinger. He has, indeed, a thousand references to holy writ ; but they are constantly made Av ith a becoming seriousness and solemnity.

^ Which is a pip out,'] A pip is a spot upon a card. The al- lusion is to the very ancient game oiOne-and-thirty : it was once a favourite diversion, and is mentioned, among others, in Green's Art of Coney Catching: it is now superseded by Quinzc.

S7S THE FATAL DOWKV.

One way or other you shall crown your will. "Would you have him your husband that you love. And can it not be ? he is your servant, though, And may pert'orni the oihee of a husband.

Bt'inimtl. hut there is honour, wench.

Bell, ^uch a disease There is indeet!, tor which ere I M'ould die

Bcaumcl. Prithee, distinguish me a maid and w i fe.

Bill. T'aith, madam, one may bear any man's children, t'other must beai- no man's.

Btaunid. What is a husband ?

Bell. Physick, that, tumbling in your belly, Avill make you sick in the stomach, 'ilie only- distinction betwixt a husband and a ser\ ant is, the lirst ^ill lie Mith you when he pleases; the last shall lie with you when you please. Pray tell me, lady, do you love, to many at'ter, or "svouUl you marry, to love at'ter ?

Bcaumcl. I would nieet love and marriajje both at once.

Bell. W by then you are out of the fashion, anil will be coiitemn'ti : lor I will assure you, there are few M'omen in the \\(nld, but cither the} have married lirst, and love aiter; or love fi)>t, and married after. Vou nul^t do as you may, not as you would ; your father's will is the goal }ou must lly to. If a luisband apj)roach you, you would have furthei' oil, is he you love, tin- less near you ? A husband in tb(>e days is but a cioak, to Ijc oi'tener laid upon \our bid, than in your beck

iicdunicl. Hum !

lull. Sometimes you may wear iiini on \o\\v .shoulder; no\^' and tlun under v<nir arm; but sebloni oi- ne\ er let him covei" vou, for "tis not t he iasiiiou.

THE FATAL DOWRY. S79

Enter Novall junior, Pontalier, Malotin,

LiLADAM, and A.YMY.'R.

Nov.jun. Best day to nature's curiosity, Star of Diion, tlie lustre of all France ! Perpetual spring dwell on thy rosy cheeks,

Whose breath is perfume to our continent !

See ! Flora trimm'd' in her varieties.

Bell. O, divine lord !

Nov.jun. No autumn nor no age ever ap- proach This heavenly piece, which nature having wrought, She lost her needle, and did then despair Ever to work so lively und so fair !

Lilad. Uds-light! my lord,* one of the purls of your band is, without all discipline, fallen out of liis rank.

Nov.jun. How ! I would not for a thousand

crowns she had seen't. Dear Liladam, reform it.

Bell. Oh lord per se, lord ! quintessence of

honour ! she w^alks not under a Aveed that could

deny thee any thing.

Beaumel. Prithee peace, wench ; thou dost but blow the fire That flames too much already.

[^Liladam and Aymer trim Novall, while Bella- pert dresses her lady. Aym. By gad, my lord, you have the divinest

9 See / Tlora trirara'd in her varieties^ The old copy reads, turndy and was folloAvcd by Coxeter : the alteration is by Mr. M. Mason.

* Lilad. Uds-light! mil lord, &c.] If this ridiculous intcrrup. lion furnished Sterne \vith the hint for that humourous one by the Count de Faineant, when he was in the midst of a disser- tation on the necessity of a First Cause, it must be allowed that he has greatly improved on his original.

380 THE FATAL DOWRY.

tailor ill Christendom ; be hath made you look like an angel in your cloth-of-tissue doublet.

Pont. This is a three-legg'd lord ; there's a fresh assault. Oh ! that men should spend time tlius ! See, see, how her blood drives to her heart, and straight vaults to her cheeks again !

JMalot. What are these ?

Pofit. One of them there, the lower, is a good, foolish, knavish, sociable gallimaufry of a man, and has much caught my lord with singing; he is master of a musick-house. The other is his dressing block, upon whom my lord lays all his clothes and fashions ere he vouchsafes them liis own person : you shall see him in the morning in the Galley-foist, at noon in the Bullion, in tlie evening in Quir])o,^ and all night in

JMalot. A bawdyhouse.

Pont. If my lord deny, they deny; if he aifirm, they affirm ; they skip into my lord's cast skins some twice a vear; and thus thev flatter to eat, eat to live, and live to praise my lord. ^

]\Ialot. Good sir, tell me one thing.

Pont. M'hat's that ?

jllatot. Dare these men ever fight on any cause?

* 1/ou .s/iall sec him in the morning in the C!allc)-f<»isf,

at iiuii/i in the Bullion, in the evening in Qiiirjio. vVr.H I know not v>\\a\ lo niako of (liis pas^a^o. Mr. iM. Ma>on thinks llic j)la(cs heiH" nii'ntioncd wore tavfrus ; it is full as likely that they wen- houses of publirk resort for some kimi ol' amusement. Onr oh! writers give the name of g<i/iei/-f(>i.st to the lord ma}or'.> barge ; but I see not how this, or any other of the city l)arp;es, can be meant here. Bu/lion.s are notiet-d l)\ .Ions<Mi: ami in a manner t\\.\t seems to determine tlnni to bi- ni iplacles lor ihiivisor uand)li'r'; :

■• \\ hile you do eat, and lie al)out the to«n her*'.

'• And (o/fu in >our Ihtttionx." The DniTs -in .Is.s.

Ol liiiirpn I can liud no mention, and am therefore eom|)elled to leave it, with the rest, lo the reader's better judgment.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 381

Font. Oh, no ! 'twould spoil their clothes, and put their bands out of order.

Nov.jim. Mistress,^ you hear the news? your father has resign'd his presidentship to my lord my father.

Mai. And lord Charalols Undone for ever.

Pont. Troth, 'tis pity, sir. A braver hope of so assured a father Did never comfort France.

Lilad. A good dumb mourner,

Ayni. A silent black.

Nov. j an. Oh, fie upon him, how he wears his clothes ! As if he had come this Christmas from St. Omers, To see his friends, and return'd afterTwelfth-tide.

Lilad. His colonel looks finely like a drover —

Nov.jun. That had a winter lain perdue in the rain.

Aym. What, he that wears a clout about his neck. His cuflFs in's pocket, and his heart in's mouth?

Nov.jun. Now, out upon him !

Beaumel. Servant, tie my hand.

[Nov. jun. hisses her hand. How your lips blush, in scorn that they should pay Tribute to hands when lips are in the way !

Nov.jun. I thus recant; yet now your hand looks white, Ikcause your lips robb'd it of such a right. Monsieur Aymer, I prithee sing the song- Devoted to my mistress.

MUSICK, — AND A SONG BY AYMER.

^ Nov.jun. Mistress, you hear the news?^ For this simple expression the inodern editors most strangrly and corruptly read, Must you hear the news ?

iJS^J THE FATAL DOWRY.

E)i((r U(>CHKOi{T rt//r/ Beaumont.

licaii. Ixoniont will coinCj sir, straiglit. Hoc//. 'Tis well. Beaiinifl. My tathcr ! Kuv. jun. My lioiioiirable lord. Rocli. My lord Novall, this is a virtue in you: So early up ami ready l)efore noon, That are the map of dressing throug-h all France ! Nov.jioi. I rise to say my prayers, sir; here's

my saint. Koch. 'Tis well and courtly : — you must "ivc me leave, — I have3ome private conference with my daughter; Pray use my garden: you shall dine with me. L'tlad. We'll wait on you. Nov. j an. Good morn unto your lordshij) ; Remendjer, Mhat you have vow'd — [To Bcamnc/It. Bcaiimcl. Perform I must.

[E.vciuit all but Rochfort and Bcainncllc. RocJi. ^\ liy, how now, Beaumcllc?'* thou look'st not Mell, Thou art sad of late; — come, clieer thee, I have

found A wliolesome remedy f»)r tliese maiden fits ; A goodly oak whereon to twist my vine, Till her fair branches grow up to the stars. Be near at liand. — Success crown my intent ' My business fdls my little time so lull, I cannot stand to talk ; I know thv dutv Ls liandmaid to my will, especially When it presents nothing ])ut good and lit.

* Rorli. U'lii/, /loxf Jioiv, I^-aniiu'Ili' ? t/mr look'st not 'url/.l It may bi* iici'cssary here to rominil (In- roador that MassinjTiT yem'rally usi-s Ikuuindic as a trif^yllablo, whiclij ii\dccil, is it* pro^jcr lucasure-

THE FATAL DOWRY. 38

c*

Beaumd. Sir, I ain yours. — Oh! if my fears prove true, Fate hath wrong'cl love, and will destroy me too.

Enter Romont and Gaoler.

Ro7n. Sent you for me, sir?

Rocli. Yes.

Ro7n. Your lordship's pleasure ?

Rock. Keeper, this prisoner I will see forth- coming, Upon my vv ord : — Sit down, good colonel.

l^Exit Gaoler. Why I did wish you hither, noble sir, Is to advise j'ou from this iron carriage, Which, so affected, Rcmont, you will wear; To pity, and to counsel you submit With expedition to the great Novall : Recant your stern contempt, and slight neglect Of the whole court and him, and opportunely, Or you will undergo a heavy censure In public, very shortly.

Rom. Reverend sir, I have observed you, and do know you well ; And am now more afraid you know not me, By washing my submission to Novall, Than I can be of all the bellowing mouths That wait upon him to pronounce the censure, Could it determine me torments and shame.

Submit, and crave forgiveness of a beast!

Tis true, this boil of state wears purple tissue, Is high fed, proud ; so is his lordship's horse, And bears as rich caparisons. I know This elephant carries on his back not only Towers, castles, but the ponderous rcpublick, And never stoops for't; with his strong-breath'd trunk

osi

84 THE FATAL DO\yRY.

Snufts others titles, lordships, offices,

Wealth, hribes, and lives, under his ravenousjaws :

A\'hat"s this unto my tVeedoni ? 1 dare die ;

And therefore ask this camel, ^ it' these blessings

(For so they would be understood by a man)

But mollify one rudeness in his nature,

Sweeten the eager relish of the law,

At \\hose great helm he sits. Helps he the poor

In a just business? nay, does he not cross

Every deserved soldier and scholar,

As if, when nature made him, she had made

The general antij)athy of all virtue?

How savagely and blasphemously he spake

Touching the general, the brave general dead !

I must weep when I think on't.

Roch. Sir.

Rom. My lord, I am not stubborn : I can melt, you see. And prize a virtue better than my life : For though I be not learn'd, I ever loved That holy mother of all issues good, "Whose Avhite hand, for a sceptre, holds a lile To polish roughest customs; and in you She has her right: see! I am calm as sleep. Ijut when 1 think of the gross injuries, 'J he godless wrong done to my general dead, I rave indeed, and could cat this Novall ; A soulless dromedary !

Ror/i. Oh ! be t(.inperate. Sir, though 1 mouUI persuade, FU not constrain l''.ach man"s opinion freely is his own Concerning any thing, or any b(nly; lie it right or wrong, 'tis at the judge's j)eril.

^ And tlnnfnrc ask thia fiinul, &c".] In liis iiulii;iiatiiiii (ami it is llu" iiuli^iintioii of virtue) tin- undaiiiitod Udiiutiil pubsci. rapidly Iroin uiu* strung niitaplior to anotlicr. Tliis is piTplox- ing ; l)ti( il i^ not tliort-lure tlic li'ss nutural.

THE FATAL DOWRV. 385

Re-enter Beaumont.

.Beau. These men, sir, wait without ; my lord

is come too. Roch. Pay them those sums upon the table ; take Their full releases : — stay, I want a witness : Let me entreat you, colonel, to walk in, And stand but by to see this money paid ; It does concern you and your friend ; it was The better cause you were sent for, though said

otherwise. The deed shall make this my request more plain. Rom. I shall obey your pleasure, sir, though ignorant To what it tends. [E.reunt Romont and Beaumont.

Enter Charalois.

Roch. Worthiest sir. You are most welcome. Fie, no more of this ! You have outwept a woman, noble Charalois. No man but has or must bury a father.

Choral. Grave sir, I buried sorrow for his death, In the grave with him. I did never think He was immortal — though I vow I grieve, And see no reason why the vicious. Virtuous, valiant, and unworthy man, Should die alike.

Roch. They do not.

Charal. In the manner Of dying, sir, they do not ; but all die. And therein differ not : but I have done. I spied* the lively picture of my father,

* / spied, fvc] This is a pretty circumstance, and is calcu- latt'd not only to shew the filial piety of Charalois, but to interest his feelings in favour of Rochrort, by the respect shew* to his father.

VOL. III. C C

386- THE FATAL DO\yilY.

Passins: vour irallcrv, and that cast this water Into mine eyes : See, — tbolish that I am, To let it do so !

Jxoc/i. Sweet and gentle nature ! How .silken is this well/ comj)aratively To other men ! 1 have a suit to vou, sir.

Charal. Take it/tis granted.

RoL-h. ^^'hat?

Charal. Nothing, my lord.

Rock. Nothing is (juickly granted.

Chdral. Faith, my lord. That nothing granted is even all I have, For, all know, I have nothing left to grant,

Roch. Sir, have you any suit to me? Fll grant You something, any thing.

Charal. Nay, surely, I that can Give nothin"', will but sue for that ai^ain. No man will grant me any thinir I sue for, But begging nothing, every man will give it.

Roch. Sir ! The love I bore your father, and the worth I see in you, so much resembling his, Made me thus send for you : — and tender here \^Draics a curfa'uK and di.scovtrs a tabic -ultJi money and jeivtls u})o)i it. Whatever you will take, gold, jewels, both,

7 JIo-w silken in this zcclf. &c.] I suspect tliat (lior*- is loinr roiictptioii ill (his passa£;t' ; but if url/ be the li^lit rcailiiiiij, it it a quaint allusion to the tears ol' Charalois, anil niubt be eoiisi- dered as a nuuu substantive. M. Mason.

I Know not \\\\,\\ Mr. M. Mason means hy conception ; thougli I run inclined to ihink he has i;iven (he sense ol (lie puisam-, »u( ii as it ii. ll ue \inders(and ;ir// to si;;nily (as, b} a violent Lilt not unprecedented c.itaehresis, it ma) ) either •iooilnt:\s or iirtuc, the matter will not be much mended : in a word, it is » I'orred and nnn.ifural expression, and so dilierrnf Iroin the easy mill llnw iii^ >l \ Ir (ji .Ma>->iii;;er, that w e nia\ set it ilo« n, uilhuut bcruijle, to the account ol liiii associatu Field.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 387

All, to supply your wants, and free yourself. Where heavenly virtufe in high-blooderl veins Is lodged, and can agree, men should kneel down, Adore, and sacrifice all that they have; And well they may, it is so seldom seen. Put oif your wonder, and here freely take, Or send your servants : nor, sir, shall you use In aught of this a poor man's fee, or bribe Unjustly taken of the rich, but what's Directly gotten, and yet by the law.

Charal. How ill, sir, it becomes those hairs to mock !

Roch. Mock ! thunder strike me then 1

Charal. You do amaze me : But you shall wonder too. I will not take One single piece of this great heap. Why should I Borrow, that have no means to pay ? nay, am A very bankrupt, even in flattering hope Of ever raising any. AH my begging- Is Romont's liberty.

Re-enter Romont mid Beaumont, with Creditors.

Roch. Here is your friend, Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him to you; And, Charalois, I give you to your friend, As free a man as he. Your father's debts Are taken off.

Charal. How !

Rom. Sir, it is most true ; I am the witness.

1 Cred. Yes, faith, we are paid.

2 Cred. Heaven bless his lordship ! I did think

him wiser.

3 Cred. He a statesman ! he an ass. Pay other

men's debts ! I Cred. That he was never bound for.

Cc 2

38S THE FATAL DOAVRY

Rom. One more such Would save tlie rest of pleaders. Charal. ilouourd llochfort-

Liestill,niy tongue, and, blushesjscald my cheeks,' That oiler thanks in words, for such great deeds. lioch. Call in my daughter. Still 1 have a suit to you, \}L.vit Btaumont.

AVould you requite me.

Rom. y\'\\\\ his life, I assure you. Rock. Nay, M'ould you make me now your debtor, sir

Re-enter B^i^vumont nitli Beaumelle.

This is my only child : M'hat she appears, Your lordship mcU may sec : her education Follows not anv ;' for her mind, I know it To be far fairer than her shape, and hope Jt will continue so. If now her birth Be not too mean for Charalois, take her, take This virgin by the hand, and call her Wife, Endowed with all my fortunes. Bless me so, Ketiuite me thus, and make me happier, In joining my poor emj)ty name to vours. Than if ni) state were multiplied tenfold.

' Lie stillj 7111/ tongue, and, Ihishes, scald mij c/iftl,s^^ This line, in the old cop) , may rival some of Shakspeare's in t) pographical iicatnoss :

Li/e htill mij tuung and bu!,/ics, cal'd mi/ c/icihcs.

9 uhat s/ic appeal Sf

Ymir lordship will mat/ see : her education

Tulhu's not any ;^ i. e. is nol iiircrii)m to any. Tlic niodorii c'ditons havo,

Your lordship ucll inai/ see: for education, ncaumollo follows nut any. 'I'liis sfranf;o line is not in (lu- old ropy, %v' ich reads as I lia»« yivfii it. Oovi'tiT ad<)j)t»'d lii-aunifllc Ironi tlu' niar;;in, and .Mr. Al. Mason altrri'd tlic tcxt lliat In* mis;lit rontinne it ! CoidJ Buthinj^ pcfiiiudc (his gi>ntlum.iii to turn tu the ori|;inal ?

THE FATAL DOWRY. 389

Charal. Is this the payment, sir, that you expect ! Wh}^, you precipitate me more in deht, Tliat nothing but my hfe can ever pay. This beauty being your daughter, in which yours I must conceive necessity of her virtue, Without all dowry is a prince's aim : Then, as she is, for poor and worthless me How much too worthy ! Waken me, Romont, That I may know I drcam'd, and find this vanish'd.

Rom. 'Sure, I sleep not.

lioch. Your sentence — life or death.

Charal. Fair Beaumelle, can vou love me ?

Beaumel. Yes, my lord.

Eiiter ^OYA'Lh junior, Pontaliek, Malotin, LiLADAM, and Aymer. They all salute.

Charal. You need not question me if I can you : You are the fairest virgin in Dijon, And Rochfort is your father.

Nov.jun. What's this change ?

Roch. You meet my wishes, gentlemen.

Rom. What mak6 These dogs in doublets here ?

Beau. A visitation, sir.

Charal. Then thus, fair Beaumelle, I write my faith, Thus seal it in the sight of heaven and men ! Your fingers tie my heart-strings with this touch, In true-love knots, which nought but death shall

loose. And let these tears,* an emblem of our loves.

' And let these tears, &c.] So Rowe:

" Are you not mix'd like streams of meeting rivers, " Whose blended waters are no more distinguish'd, " But roll into the sea, one cominou flood ?" Fair Penitent.

390 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Like crystal rivers individually

Flow into one another, make one source,

AVhich never man distinu:uish, less divide !

Breath marrv breath, and kisses minole souls.

Two hearts and bodies here incorj)orate !

And, though with httle wooing I liave won,

My future life shall be a wooing time,

And every day new as the bridal one.

Oh, sir ! I groan under your courtesies,

More than my father's bones under his wrongs:

You, Curtius like, have thrown into the gulf

Of this his country's foul ingratitude

Your life and fortunes, to redeem their shames.

Rock. No more, my glory ! come, let's in, and hasten This celebration,

Rom. Mai. Pont. Beau. All fair bliss upon it !

[Edeunt J(oc//Jort, Chara/ois, Romoiit, Beaumont, and iMaiotlu.

Nov.juu. ]\ristress !

Bcauinel. Oh, servant ! — Virtue strengthen me ! Thy presence blows round my atfection's vane : — You M'ill undo me, if you speak again. [Edit.

Lilad. .'li/in. Here Mill be sport for you ! this works. [E.ifunt.

Nov.jun. Peace ! peace !

Pont. One word, my lord Novall.

Kov.ju/i. \\ hat, thou woultlst money r — there !

Po?it. No, 1 u ill none, Fll not be bought a slave, A pander, or a parasite, for all Your father's Mortli. Though >ou have saved my

liie, Rescued me often from my ^ants, 1 nui.st not Wink at your ft)llics : that Mill ruin nou. You kncjM' my blunt w ;i\ . and ni\ l()\ c to truth — Forsi.kc the j)Uisuit oltliis la(l\ "s honour, Now yon do mi' Ik!- made another man's,

THE FATAL DOWRY. Sgi

And such a man's, so good, so popular ! Or you will pluck a thousand mischiefs on you. The benefits you have done me are not lost, Nor cast away, they are purs'd here in my heart ; But let me pay you, sir, a fairer way Than to defend your vices, or to sooth them. Nov. jun. Ha, ha ! what are my courses unto

thee ?

Good cousin Pontalier, meddle with that

That shall concern thyself. [Exit.

Pout. No more but scorn !

Move on then, stars, work your pernicious will:

Only the wise rule, and prevent your ill. [Exit.

[Here a passage over the stage, while the act is

playing for the marriage of Charalois with

Beaumelle, t^'c]

ACT III. SCENE I.

A Room in Charalois' House.

Enter ^owAi.'L junior, and Bellapert.

Nov. jun. Fly not to these excuses; thou hast been False in thy promise — and, when I have said Ungrateful, all is spoken.

Bell. Good my lord ; But hear me only,

Nov. jun. To what purpose, trifler } Can any thing that thou canst say make void The marriage, or those pleasures but a dream, Which Charalois, oh Venus ! liath enjoy'd ?

Bell. I yet could say that you receive advantage

392 THE FATAL DOWRY.

In wliatyoutliinkaloss ; would you vouchsafe mc 'J'liat voii were never iu the wav, till now, With safety to arrive at your desires ; That pleasure makes love to you, unattended 13y danger or repentance.

NoT.jun. 1'hat I could I]ut apprehend one reason how this might he ! Hope would nut theii forsake me.

Btll. The en jo vino- Of what you most desire, I say the enjoying, Shall, in the full possession of your wishes, Confirm that I am faithful.

Nov. juu. Give some relish How this may appear possible.

Bell. I will, Relish and taste, and make the banquet easy. You say my lady's married; — I confess it : That Charalois hath enjoy "d her; — 'tis most true : That, with her, he's ali'eady master of The best jxirt of my old lord's state — still better. ]3ut that the first or last should be your hinder-

anee I ntterly deny; for but obscr\e me; A\'hile she went for, and was, I swear, a \ irgiu, What courtesy could she, \\\i\\ her honour, give Oryou receive with safety? — take me with you; When 1 say courtesy, do not think I nu-an A kiss, the tying of her slioe or garter. An hour of private conlerence; those are trifles. In this Mord courtesy we, that are gamesters,

point at The sport dircel, where not alone the lover J'rings his artillerv, but uses it ; WhicM word expounded to vou, such a courtesy J)o \(ui expect, and sudden,

Nov. jti//. Ihit he tasted 'I'he first sweets, Hellapert.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 395

Bell. He wrong\l you shrewdly ! He toil'd to climb up to the phoenix' nest, And in his prints leaves your ascent more easy, I do not know, you that are perfect criticks In women's books, may talk of maidenheads —

Nov.jun. But for her marriage !

Bell. 'Tis a fair protection 'Gainst all arrests of fear or shame for ever. Such as are fair, and yet not foolish, study To have one at thirteen ; but they are mad That stay till twenty. Then, sir, for the pleasure. To say adultery's sweeter, that is stale ; This only — is not the contentment more. To sa}^ This is my cuckold, than my rival? More I could say — but briefly, she doats on you; If it prove otherwise, spare not, poison me With the next gold you give me.

Enter Beaumelle.

Beaiimel. How's this, servant! Courting my woman?

Bell. As an entrance to The favour of the mistress. You axe together; And I am perfect in my cue. [Going,

Beaumel. Stay, Bellapert.

Bell. In this I must not, with your leave, obey you. Your tailor and your tirewoman wait without, And stay my counsel and direction for Your next dav's dressins;. 1 have much to do, Nor will your ladyship, now time is precious, Continue idle ; this choice lord will lind So fit employment for you ! [E.vlt,

Beaumel. I shall grow angry.

Nov.jun. Not so; you have a jewel in her, madam.

39-i THE FATAL DOWRY.

Re-enter Bellapert.

Bell. I had forsjot to tell your ladyship The closet is private, and your coucli[there] ready; And, if you please that I shall lose the key, But say so, and 'tis done. [Esit.

Beaumcl. You conic to chide me, servant, and hring- with you SulTicient warrant. You will say, and truly, ]\1\' father found too much ohedience in me. By being" won too soon; yet, if you please But to remember all my hopes and fortunes Had reference to his liking, you will grant, That though 1 did not well towards you, I yet Did wisely for myself

Nov.juti. With too much fervour I have so long loved, and still love you, mistress, T(j esteem that an injury to me Which w as to you convenient : — that is past ]\ly help, is past my cure. You yet may, lady, In recompen^:e of all my duteous service, (Provided that your will answer your power,) Become mv creditress.

Bcaamel. 1 understand you ; And for assurance the recjuest you make Shall not he long unanswered, — j)ray you sit. And by what you ^hall hear, you'll easily find ^ly passions are much fitter to desire, Than to be sued to.

Enter Romoxt (Uid I'louimkl behind.

llor. Sir, it is no! cnxy At tlic start ni\ I'cllow lias got of me in My la(i}"s good opinion, tlial's the motive

THE FATAL DOWRY. 3.95

Of this discovery ; but the due payment Of what I owe her honour. Rom. So I conceive it.

Flor. I have observed too much, nor shall my silence

Prevent the remedy: Yonder they are ;

I dare not be seen with you. You may do What you think ht, which will be, I presume, The office of a faithful and tried friend To my young lord. ^ {Eiii.

Rom. This is no vision : ha ! Nov.jun. With the next opportunity ? Beaumel. By this kiss, And this, and this.

Nov.jun. That you would ever swear thus ! Rom. [comes forward.'] If I seem rude, your pardon, lady ; yours I do not ask : come ; do not dare to shew me A face of anger, or the least dislike; Put on, and suddenly, a milder look, I shall grow rough else.

Nov.jun. What have I done, sir. To draw this harsh unsavoury language from you? Rom. Done, popinjay ! why, dost thou think, that, if I e'er had dreamt that thou hadst done me wrong, Thou shouldst outlive it ?

Beaumel. This is something more Than my lord's friendship gives commission for. Nov.jun. Your presence and the place make him presume Upon my patience.

Rom. As if thou e'er wert angry But with thy tailor ! and yet that poor shred Can bring more to the making up of a man, Than can be hoped from thee : thou art his creature;

596 THE FATAL DOM'RY.

And did he not, each morning, new create thcc, Tlioii'dst stink, and he forgotten. Til not change One syllahlc more ^ith tJice, until thou bring Some testimony, under good men's liands, Tliou art a Christian : I suspect thee strongly, And will he satisfied; till which time, keep from

me. — The entertainment of your visitation Has made what I intended one, a husiness.

Kox\ jun. So! -we shall meet. — Madam.

Rom. Use that leg again, And ril cut off the other.

Not. jun. Very good. \.^^''^-

llom. What a perfume the muskcat leaves behind him ! Do you admit him for aproperty, To save yoa charges, lady ?

Beaumcl. 'Tis not useless, Now you are to succeed him.

Rom. So I respect you,* Not for yourself, but in remembrance of Who is your father, and m hose M'ife you now

are, That I choose ratlier not to understand Your nasty scofl', tlian

Beaumcl. AVhat, \on \\\\\ not Ix-at me If I expound it to von ! Here's a tvrant Spares neither man nor woman !

Rom. My intents,

* Uoin. U luU a pcifuinv tlic muskcat letnce behind him ! Do you admit him fur a propcrti/, To sa\c you charges, liidif f*

Hcau. "I'is not it.stfcss, Kaw i/ou arc to ntccccd him.

Rom. So I rcsptct you, &c.] These luo spoorlies were iiiad- vortaiitly oniiUcd by Mr. INI. Mason: it uas (lie innn; iiiilortii- iiatc assi'vrial ul (he bucccTdiii;^ lines depended on (heni.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 5S7

Madam, deserve not this ; nor do I stay

To be the whetstone of your wit : preserve it

To spend on such as ktiow liow to admire

Such coloured stuff. In me, tliere now speaks

to vou As true a friend and servant to your honour, And one that will with as much hazard guard it.

As ever man did goodness: but then, lady,

You must endeavour not alone to be,

But to APPEAR, worthy such love and service.

Beaumel. To what tends this?

Rom. Why, to this purpose, lady. I do desire you should prove such a wife To Charalois (and such a one he merits) As Cssar, did he live, could not except at; Not only innocent from crime, but free From all taint and suspicion.

Beaumel. The}^ are base That judge me otherwise.

Rom. But yet be careful : Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not To wound the fame of princes, if it lind But any blemish in their lives to work on. But I'll be plainer with you: had the people Been learn'd to speak but what even now I

saw, Their malice out of that Avould raise an engine To overthrow your honour. In my sight, With yonder painted fool I frighted from you. You used familiarity beyond A modest entertainment : you embraced him With too much ardour for a stranger, and Met him with kisses neither chaste nor comely. But learn you to forget him, as I will Your bounties to him ; you will find it safer Rather to be uncourtlv than immodest.

3i)S THE FATAL DOWRY.

Beaumel. This pretty rag' about your neck shews M'cll, And, being coarse and little worth, it speaks you As terrible as thrifty.

Rom. Madam !

Bcaumd. Yes : And this strong belt, in wliicli you hang your

lionour, Vi"\\\ outlast twenty scarfs.

Rum. What mean you, lady ?

Beaumel And [then] all else about you cap-a-pie. So uniform in spite of handsomeness, Shews such a bold contempt of comeliness. That 'tis notstran<»;e vour laundress in the leairucr* Grew mad with love of you.

Rom. Is my free counsel Anssver'd with this ridiculous scorn?

Beaumel. These objects Stole very much of my attention from me : Yet something I remember, to speak truth, Deliver'd gravely, but to little purpose, That almost wcjuld have made me swear some

curate Had stolen into the person of Romont, And, in the praise of goodwife honesty, Had read a!i homily.

Rom. Dy this hand

Beaumel. And sw ord, I will make up your oath,it will want weight else. —

' neaiimel. T/iis prctti/ rag about j/our 7icck- s/icxs ZL'cll,^ There is ail allukioii to Ihis rof^ at p. 381.

"• What, he that wears a clutU about his neck I"

* '/7ia( '(is H(if .stntii^c ijotir Idtinditss in tliv leumicr] i. e. in the canip. So I^ilhgow, ai)()loi;i/.iiig lor the nideiiriis of hi» style, desires his readers ''• to impute (he faults thereof to a diiordered ha:>ucr." Jlis narrative wi-y written at the siege of IJreda. See ^//c iVc7M;( , p. 117.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 399

You are angry with me, and poor I laugh at it. Do you come from the camp, which affords only The conversation of cast suburb whores, To set down to a lady of my rank Limits of entertainment ?

Ro??i. Sure a legion Has possest this woman !

Beaumel. One stamp more would do well: yet I desire not You should grow horn-mad till you have a wife. You are come to warm meat, and perhaps clean

linen ; Feed, wear it, and be thankful. For me, know, That though a thousand watches were set on me, And you the master-spy, I yet would use The liberty that best likes me. I will revel, I'east, kiss, embrace, perhaps grant larger favours; Yet such as live upon my means shall know They must not murmur at it. If my lord Be now grown yellow, and has chose out you To serve his jealousy this way, tell him this : You have something to inform him. [Exit,

Rom. And I will ; Believe it, wicked one, I will. Hear, heaven. But, hearing, pardon me ; if these fruits grow Upon the tree of marriage, let me shun it As a forbidden sweet. An heir, and rich, Young, beautiful, yet add to this — a wife, And 1 will rather choose a spittle' sinner Carted an age before, though three parts rotten, And take it for a blessing, rather than Be fetter'd to the hellish slavery Of such an impudence.

5 And I will rather choose a spittle sinner'] For spittle, Mr. M. Mason reads, spital, as usual, and is, as usual, wrong. Sec the City Madam,

400 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Enter Beaumont with tvritinifs.

Beau. Colonel, good fortune To meet you thus ! You look saJ, but 1*11 tell you Something- that shall remove it. (), how happy Is niv lord Charalois in his fair bride !

Rom. A happy man, indeed! — ])ray you, in what r

Beau. 1 tlare swear, you would think so good a lady A dower sutHeient.

Rom. No doubt. But on.

Beau. So fair, so chaste, so virtuous, so — indeed, All that is excellent !

Rom. Women have no cunning To iiuU the world !

Beau. Yet, to all these, my lord, Her father, gives the lull addition of All he does now possess in Burgundy : These writings, to conlirm it, are new seal'd, And I most fortunate to present liim with them ; I must 2:0 seek him out. Can you direct me ?

Rom. You'll liiul him ])reaking a young horse.

Beau. I thank you. [E.iit.

Rom. 1 must do something worthy Charalois' friendship. If she were Mell inclined, to keep her so Deserved not thanks ; and yet, to stay a woman Spurr'd headlong by hot lust to her own ruin, Is hartler than to prop a falling tower M'itli a deceiving reed.

Enter Roc n fort, speaking to a Servant liithin.

Roc//. Some one seek for me As soon as he returns.

Rum. Her lalherr ha!

THE FATAL DOWRY. 401

IIoM^ if I break this to him? sure it cannot Meet with an ill construction : his wisdom, iNIade powerful by the authority of a father, Will warrant and give privilege to his counsels. It shall be so. — My lord !

Rock. \ouY friend, Romont. Would you aught with me ?

Rom. I stand so eng-ai^red To your so many favours, that I hold it A breach in thankfulness, should I not discover, Though with some imputation to myself. All doubts that may concern you.

Roch. The performance Will make this protestation worth my thanks.

Rom. Then, with your patience, lend me your attention : For what I must deliver, whisper'd only, You will with too much grief receive.

Enter Beaumelle and Bellapert, behind.

Beaumel. See, wench ! Upon my life, as I foj'cspake, he's now Preferring his complaint; but be thou perfect, And we will fit him.

Bell. Fear not me ; pox on him ! A captain turn informer against kissing ! Would he were hang'd up in his rusty armour!— But, if our fresh wits cannot turn the plots Of such a mouldy murrion on itself; Rich clothes, choice fare, and a true friend at a call, With all the pleasures the night yields, forsake us !

Roc/l This in my daughter! do not wrong her.

Bell. Now Begin : the game's afoot, and we in distance.

Beaumel. [comes forward.'] 'Tis thy fault, foolish girl ! pin on my veil,

VOL. III. D d

402 THE FATAL DO^VllY.

I will not wear tlio.se jewels. Am I not Already matehcl beyond my hopes ? yet still You prune and set me forth, as if I were Again to please a suitor.

Bell. 'Tis the course That our i^reat ladies take.

Beaumcl. A weak excuse!* Those thiit are better seen in what concerns A lady's honour and fair fame, condemn it. You wait well ! in your absence, my lord's friend, The understanding, grave, and wise Romont

Rom. Must I be still her sport?

Baiumcl. Reproved me for it ; And he has traveU'd to bring home a judgment Not to be contradicted. You will say i\ly father, that owes more to years than he, Has brought me up to musick, language, courtship, And 1 must use them : true ; but not to oii'cnd, , Or render me suspected.

Roc/i. Does your fine story 13egin from this ?

Bcuumel. I thought a parting kiss From young Novall would have displeased no

more Than heretofore it hath done ; but I find I must restrain such favours now ; look, therefore. As you are careful to contiiuie mine, That I no more be visited. FU endure I'he strictest course of life that jealousy Can think secure eiu)ugh, ere my behaviour Shall call my fame in (juestion.

Rom. Ten dissc udders Are in this subtile dexil ! Wm believe this?

'' lUaiimcl. A ucak excuse/] 'I'liis liemi^ticli h.is bttn liiflicrto gi\(ii (o Komoiit. 1( is I'vident, to iiu' at Inist, that it bcloiijii to licaiiinrllc. Uonioiit could iiol call what IJclla^n'rt haJ ur|;ccl, a ucak excuse^ lor be «as ignorant of its drill.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 403

Rock. So far, that if you trouble me agaia %Vith a report like this, I shall not only Judge you malicious in your disposition, But study to repent what I have done To such a nature,

Horn. Why, 'tis exceeding well.

Roch. And for you, daughter, oif with this, off with it ! I have that confidence in your goodness, I, That I will not consent to have you live Like to a recluse in a cloister : Go, Call in the gallants, let them make you merry; Use all fit liberty.

Bell. Blessing upon you ! If this new preacher with the sword and feather Could prove his doctrine for canonical. We should have at fine world. {Exit.

Roch. Sir, if you please To bear yourself as fits a gentleman, The house is at your service ; but, if not, Though you seek company elsewhere, your

absence Win not be much lamented. [Exit.

Rom. If this be The recompense of striving to preserve A wanton gigglet honest, very shortly 'Twill make all mankird panders.— Do you smile, Good lady looseness ! your whole sex is like you, And that man's mad that seeks to better any : What new change have you next ?

Beaumel. Oh, fear not you, sir, I'll shift into a thousand, but I will Convert your heresy.

Rom. What heresy ? speak. ^ Beaumel. Of keeping a lady that is married From entertaining servants

Dd 2!

404 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Enter ^o\AiA. junior, ^Malotix, Liladam, Aymeu, andVoy,T\Li}Lv,.

-O, vou arc welcome !

Use anv means to vex liim,

Aiul then with welcome tblluw me. [^Ex'it.

Nov.jun. You are tired "With your ""rave exhortations, colonel !

LiUid. How is it? faith, your lordship may do well To help him to some church jjrefcrment : ti* The fashion now for men of all conditions, However they have lived, to end tliat way. u4ym. That face would do well in a suri)lice. Horn. Rogues, Be silent — or — '

Pont. 'Sdeath ! will } ou sutler this.-' Rom. And you, the master-rogue, the coward rascal, I shall he ^\ ith vou suddenly.

Nov.jun. Pontalicr, If 1 should .stiike him, I know I should kdl him ;^ And therefore 1 would have thee beat him, for He's good lor nothing else.

L'dad. His hack Api>ears to nu', as it Mould tire a beadle ; And then he has a knotted blow would bruise A courtlike hand to touih it.

7 I*()ii(. '.Sdeath! xii/l j/oit suj/'rr this?^ MassiiiiiiT has pif- scrvcd till' ( liarac'ter of Poiitalior iVom (-nntaniinution, with :;ri'at dt'\<frify, <liroii^h every sreiio. lie is licre (lie only one (witli the exre|)ti(m ol" .Maln(iii) who doo not iiisiill Koinont, (hoiiuh he appears to feel some iii(lii;iiatioii at tlie ciiiitiiiipt with which Nuvall and hi^lolhiwers are treated l)\ liiiu. Il< i> ^ratetiil, hut not obseipiions ; and rather the allei lion.ite Inlor than the a^eut ol his \(Min<; lord, tor whose honour he is more soliciloub lliaii tor his own advantage.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 405

Aijni. He looks like A currier wlien his hides grow clear.

Font. Take heed He curry not some of you.

Nov.jun. Gads me ! he's angry.

Rom. I break no jests, but I can break my sword About your pates.

Enter Charalois and Beaumont.

Lilad. Here's more.

Aym. Come, let's be gone : We are beleaguer'd.

Nov.jun. Look, they bring up their troops.

Pont. Will you sit down With this disgrace? you are abused most grossly.

Lilad. I grant you, sir, we are ; and you would have us Stay, and be more abused.

Nov.jun. My lord, I'm sorry Your house is so inhospitable, Ave must quit it. [EdTimt all but Charalois and Ro7nont.

Charal. Prithee, Romont, what caused this uproar ?

Rom. Nothing ; They laugh'd, and used their scurvy wits upon me.

Charal. Come, 'tis thy jealous nature : but I wonder That you, which are an honest man and worthy, Should foster this suspicion : no man laughs, No one can whisper, but thou apprehend'st His conference and his scorn reflect on thee : For my part, they should scoff their thin wits out, So I not heard them ; beat me, not being there. Leave, leave these fits to conscious men, to such As are obnoxious to those foolish things As they can gibe at,

406 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Rom. Well, sir.

Charal. Thou art known Valiant M'ithout detect, rightly defined, Which is as fearing to do injury, As tender to endure it; not a brabbler, A swearer

Rom. Pish, pish ! what needs this, my lord ? If I be known none sucli, how vainly you Do cast away good counsel ! I have loved you, And yet must freely speak ; so young a tutor Fits not so old a soldier as I am : And I must tell you, 'twas in your behalf I grew enraged thus, yet had rather die Than open the great cause a syUable further.

Charal. In my l)ehalf ! \^'herein hath Charalois Unfitly so demeaned himself, to give The least occasion to the loosest tongue To throw aspersions on him ? or so weakly Protected his om n honour, as it should Need a defence from any but himself? They are fools that judge me by my outward

seemin^:. Why should my gentleness beget abuse ? The lion is not angry that does sleep. Nor every man a coward tluit can weep. For God's sake, speak the cause.

Rom. Not for tiie world. Oh ! it w ill strike disease into your bones. Beyond the cure of physick ; drink your blood, Rob you of all your rest, contract your sight, Leave you no eyes but to see misery, And of your own; nor speech, but to wish thus. Would I had perislfd in the prison's jaws, From whence I wasredeem'd! — 'twill wearyouold, Jieiori' you have exj)erience in that art That causes yf)ur afiliclion.

Charal. Thou dost strike

THE FATAL DOWRY. 407

A dcatliful coldness to my heart's high lieat, And shrink'st my liver like the calenture. Declare this foe of mine, and life's, that like A man I may encounter and subdue it. It shall not have one such effect in me As thou denouncest : with a soldier's arm, If it be strength, Til meet it; if a fault Belonging to my mind, I'll cut it off With mine own reason, as a scholar should. Speak, though it make me monstrous.

Rom. I will die first. Farewell ; continue merry, and high heaven Keep your wife chaste !

Char at. Hum ! Stav, and take this wolf Out of my breast, that thou hast lodged there, or For ever lose me.

Rom. Lose not, sir, yourself. And I will venture: — so, the door is fast.'

[^Locks the door. Now, noble Charalois, collect yourself, Summon your spirits, muster all your strength That can belong to man ; sift passion From every vein, and whatsoe'er ensues. Upbraid not me hereafter, as the cause of Jealousy, discontent, slaughter, and ruin : Make me not parent to sin. — You will know This secret that I burn with ?

Charal. Devil on't, What should it be ! Romont, I heard you wish My wife's continuance of chastity.

Rom. There was no hurt in that.

Charal. Why, do you know A likelihood or possibility Unto the contrary ?

Rom. I know it not,, but doubt it; these the grounds : The servant of your wife now, young Novall,

40S THE FATAL DOWRY.

The son unto your father's enemy,

(^^^licll aggravates j)resuni])tion the more,)

1 liave heen warn'tl of", touching her : — nay, seen

them Tied lieart to heart, one in anotlier's arms, IMuhiplying kisses, as if they meant To pose arithmetiek ; or whose eyes woukl Be iirst hurnt out M'ith gazing on tlie other's. I saw their mouths engender, and their pahns Glew'd, as if love had lock'd them; their words

flow And melt each other's, like two circling flames, "Where chastity, like a pha'nix,mcthought, l)urn"d, But left the world nor ashes, nor an heir. — Why stand yonsilentthus? whatcold dull phlegm, As if you had no drop of eholer mix'd In your whole constitution, thus prevails, To fix you now thus stupid, hearing this?

Chared. You did not see him on my couch within, Like George a-horsehaek, on her, nor a- bed ?

Jiom. No.

Charal. Ha ! ha !

Rom, Laugh you ! even so did } our wife, And her indulgent father.

Charal. 1 hey were wise : "NV'ouldst have me be a fool ?

lloin. No, but a man.

Charal. There is no dram of manhood to sus-

On such thin airy circumstance as this;

Mere compliment and courtship. A\'as this talc

The hidc(nis nujuster which you so conceal'il ?

Away, thou cuiious inij)ertinent,''

And idle scarclu r ol" >.uch lean, nice toys !

* //uY/y, tJiim curious impertinent, ] Tliis is an :illii>i()n to (lie titli' ot one of ('iTvanle^' novels, whicii ucre much read and adinini! in Massingor'j time.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 409

Go, thou seditious sower of debate,

Fly to such matches, wliere the bridegroom

doubts He holds not worth enough to countervail The virtue and the beauty of his wife ! Thou buzzing drone, that 'bout my ears dost hum, To strike thy rankling sting into my heart, Whose venom time nor medicine could assuage, Thus do I put thee off ! and, confident In mine own innocency and desert, Dare not conceive her so unreasonable, To put Novall in balance against me ; An upstart, craned up to the height he has. Hence, busybody ! thou'rt no friend to me, That must be kept to a Avife's injury.

Rom. Is't possible? — farewell, fine honest man! Sweet-temper'd lord, adieu ! What apoplexy Hath knit sense up ? is this Romont's reward ? Bear witness, the great spirit of thy father, With what a healthful hope I did administer This potion, that hath wrought so virulently ! I not accuse thy wife of act, but would Prevent her precipice to thy dishonour, Wliich now thy tardy sluggishness will admit. Would I had seen thee graved with thy great sire, Ere lived to have men's marginal fingers point At Charalois, as a lamented story !' An emperor put away his wife for touching Another man; but thou wouldst have thine tasted, And keep her, I think — Phoh ! I am a fire

5 Would I had seen thee graved with thy sire, Ere lived to have men's marginal fingers point At Charalois, as a lamented story !] This is a most bcanti- ful allusion to the ancient custom of placing an index ((f^") in the margin of books, to direct the reader's attention to the striking passages. Massinger follows Shakspearc in drawing his illustra- tions from the most familiar objects.

410 THE FATAL DOWRY.

To warm a dead man, that waste out myself.

Bleed* — What a piague, a vengeance, is't to me.

If you will he a cuckold? here, I shew

A sword's point to thee, this side you may shun.

Or that, the peril; if you will run on,

1 cannot help it.

Cluiral. Uidst thou never see me Ano-rv, llomont ?

Rom. Yes, and pursue a foe Like li<2jhtning.

Charal. Prithee, see me so no more : I can be so again. Put up thy sword, And take thyself away, lest I draw mine.

Rom. Come, fright your foes with this, sir ! I'm your friend, And dare stand by you thus.

Choral. Thou art not my friend. Or being so, thou art mad ; I must not buy Thy friendship at this rate. Had I just cause, Thou know'st I durst pursue such injury Through fire, air, water, earth, nay, m ere they all Shuliled again to chaos; but there's none. Thy skill, R(;mont, consists in camps, not courts. Tarewell, uncivil'' man ! let's meet no more : Here our long web of friendship I untwist. Shall I go whine, walk pale, and lock my wife. For nothing, from her birth's free liberty, That opened mine to me? yes ; if I do. The name of cuckold then dog me with scorn ! I am a Frenchman, no Italian born. [E.viL

' li/crd — 1 So the quarto : Coxeti'r has H/ood ; wliirh Mr. M. ]Vla>oii |H)int^ iis if it wrrc an <tath. This, hDucvci'. is not tlic aiitlior'M iiicaiiiii;; : lie ^\ as ahoiit (o sa\, perhaps, IJIccd (lor oiir that Irfls not for hiiiiscH!) or somctliiii;; rqiiivalnit to it : hilt liis im|)ati(Mit imligiialioii will not lot him i)rocco(l, and he biirhts out into cxrlaniafory inti'rrogatioiis.

* rarmc/l, uncivil man / ] i. c. nna<'<|uain(('(1 with (he usages and cuhtoniii o[ civil or numicipal life. Sec \'ol. II. ji. '21.'>.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 411

Rom. A dull Dutch rather : fall and cool, my blood ! Boil not m zeal of thy friend's hurt so high, That is so low and cold l.imself in't ! Woman, How strong art thou ! how easily beguiled ! How thou dost rack us by the very horns ! Now Arealth, I see, change manners and the man. Something I must do mine own wrath to assuage, And note my friendship to an after-age. [Exit.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Room in Novall's House.

^ov ALL jimio}" discovered seated before a looking- glass, with a Barber and Perfumer dixssing his hair, while a Tailor adjusts a nezv suit which he wears. Liladam, Aymer, and a Page at- tendino\

'o

Nov.jun. INIend this a little : pox! thou hast burnt me. Ob, fie upon't ! O lard ! he has made me smell for all the world like a flax, or a red- headed woman's chamber: Powder, powder, pow- der !

Perf. Oh, sweet lord !

Page. That's his perfumer.

Tail. Oh, dear lord !

Page. That's his tailor.

Nov.jun. Monsieur Liladam, Aymer, how al- low you the model of these clothes ?

Aym. Admirably, admirably; oh, sweet lord! assuredly it's pity the worms should eat thee.

412 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Page. Here's a fine cell ! a lord, a tailor, a per- fumer, a barber, and a pair ot" monsieiirs : three to three; as little wit in the one, as honesty in the other. 'St'oot ! 11 1 into the country again, learn to speak truth, drink ale, and converse Av ith my father's tenants : here I hear nothing all day, but — Cpo)i t/n/ auiil, as I am a geittlanaUy and an honest man !

Ai/m. 1 vow and affirm, your tailor must needs be an expert geometrician ; he has the longitude, latitude, altitude, j^rofundity, every dimension of your body, so cx(|uisitely — here's a lace laid as directly as if truth were a tailor.

Faiic. That were a miracle.

Lilad. With a hair's-breadth's errour, there's a shoulder-piece cut, and the base of a pickadille in puncto.

^lym. You are right, monsieur ; his vcstaments sit as if they grew upon him, or art had wrought them on the same loom as nature framed his lordship; as if your tailor were deeply read in astrology, and had taken measure of your honour- able body with a Jacob's staH', an ephimerides.

y'aii. I am bound t'ye, gentlemen.

Vassc. You are deceived ; thevll be bound to you : you must remember to trust them none.

Nov.jun. Nay, "faith, thou art a reasonable neat artificer, give the devil his due.

Page. Ay, if he would but cut the coat accord- inir to the cloth still.

\uv.jun. 1 now want only my mistress' appro- bation, who is, indeed, the most j)olite punctual <jueen ot" dressing in all ihirgundy — pah ! and makes all ntli( r xoung ladies appear as ii" they came from board last week out of the country: is't not true, Liladam ? '

Ltlad. True, my lord ! as if any thing your

THE FATAL DOWRY. 413

lordship could say could be otherwise than , true.

Hov. jun. Nay, o' my soul, 'tis so ; what fouler object in the world, than to see a young, fair, handsome beauty unhandsomely dighted, and in- congruently accouter'd ; or a hopeful chevalier unmethodically appointed in the external orna- ments of nature ? For, even as the index tells us the contents of stories, and directs to the particu- lar chapters, even so does the outward habit and superficial order of garments (in man or woman) give us a taste of the spirit, and demonstratively point (as it were a manual note from the margin) all the internal quality and habiliment of the soul ; and there cannot be a more evident, pal- pable, gross manifestation of poor, degenerate, dunghilly blood and breeding, than a rude, un- polished, disordered, and slovenly outside.'

Page. An admirable lecture ! oh, all you gal- lants, that hope to be saved by your clothes, edify, edify !

Aym. By the Lard, sweet lard, thou deservest a pension o' the state.

Pa^e. O' the tailors : two such lords were able to spread tailors o'er the face of the whole kinofdom.

Nov. jun. Pox o' this glass ! it flatters. — I could find in my heart to break it.

Page. O, save the glass, my lord, and break their heads ; They are the greater flatterers, I assure you.

' This empty coxcomb was afterwards improved into the se.^ date and entertaining fop of Cibbor and Vanbrough's age. Whether they copied from nature 1 cannot say ; but the beau of our dramas, whose wit lies altogether in the restless activity of his legs and arms, resembles no animal rational or irrational, with which 1 am acquainted, unless it be a monkey that has just snapt its chain.

414. THE FATAL DOAVRY.

Jijm. Flatters ! detracts, impairs — yet, put it

Lest thou, dear lord, Narcissus like, should'st doat Uj)on thyself, and die ; and rob the w orld Of nature's copy, that she works form by.

Liliid. Oh tliat 1 were the infanta queen of Furoj)C ! A\'ho hut thyself, sweet lord, should marry me?

Nov. jnii. 1 marry ! were there a queen o'the world, not L Wedlock ! no; padlock, horselock ; — I wear spurs

\_He capers. To keep it off my heels. Yet, my Aymer, Like a free, wanton jennet in the meadows, 1 look about, and neiL»h, take hedge and ditch. Feed in my neigbour's pastures, pick my choice. Of all their fair-maned mares: but married once, A man is staked or poun'd, and cannot graze Beyond his own hedge.

Enter Pontalier (uuI Malotix.

Pont. I have waited, sir, Three hours to speak wi'yc, and not take it well Such mag|)ics are admitted, whilst I dance Atteudance.

Lilail. !\Iagpies ! M'hat d'ye take me for?

Pont. A long thing with a most unpromising face.

Atpu. V\\ never ask him what he takes me for.

Alalot. Do not, sir, For he'll go near to tell von.

P(>)il. Art not thou A barber-surgeon ?

]uirl). \\'s, sirrah; why?

P(inl. M\ lord is sorely troubled with two scabs.

LiUiil. ^Ij//n. Hum

THE FATAL DOWRY. 415

Pout. I prithee cure him of them.

Nov.juu. Pish ! no more, Thy gall sure's overflown; these are my council, And we were now in serious discourse.

Pont. Of perfume and apparel ! Can you rise, And spend five hours in dressing-talk with these ?

Nov.jun. Thou'ldst have me be a dog: up, stretch, and shake, And ready for all day.

Pont. Sir, would you be More curious in preserving of your honour trim, It were more manly, I am come to wake Your reputation from this lethargy You let it sleep in ; to persuade, importune. Nay, to provoke you, sir, to call to account This colonel Romont, for the foul wrong Which, like a burthen, he hath laid upon you, And, like a drunken porter, you sleep under. 'Tis all the town talks ;* and, believe it, sir. If your tough sense persist thus, you are undone, Utterly lost ; you will be scorn'd and baffled By every lacquey : season now your youth With one brave thing, and it shall keep the odour Even to your death, beyond, and on your tomb Scent like sweet oils and frankincense. Sir, this

life, Which once you saved, I ne'er since counted mine ; I borrow'd it of you, and now will pay it: I tender you the service of my sword To bear your challenge, if you'll write, your fate I'll make mine own ; Avhate'er betide you, I, That have lived by you, by your side will die.

Nov.jun. Ha! ha! wouldst have me challenge poor Romont ?—

* 'Tis all the town talks,] So the quarto; which is surely better than town-talk^ which the modern editors have substituted in its place.

416 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Fight with close breeches, tliou mayst think I

dare not : * Do not mistake me, coz, I am very valiant; But valour shall not make me such an ass. What use is there of valour now-a-davs ? 'Tis sure or to he kilTd, or to he hang'd. Flight thou as thy mind moves thee, 'tis tliy trade; Thou hast nothing else to do. Figlit withRomout ! No, ril not light under a lord.

Fofit. Farewell, sir ! I pity you.

Such living lords walk, their dead honour's graves. For no companions fit but fools and knaves. Come, Malotin. [Ej:eunt Poutalkr and Malot'ui.

Enter Romont.

Lilad. 'Sfoot, Colbrand, the low giant ! Aym. Ilehas brought abattle in his face, let'sgo. Page. Colbrand, d'ye call him ? he'll make some of you* Smoke, I believe.

Rom. By your leave, sirs !

5 Fight Xiith close breeches^ thou mayst think 1 dare not .] Cox- eter and Mr. M. Mason point this as if thoy supposed c7o.vc breeches relcrrod to Koinoiit ; but it is not so. In answer to tlic f harije of cowardice, Xovall tells I'ontalier, that though he may tonilude, Ironi his finical appearance, and his rcstimuts sitti/ii:; as if they grew upon him^ that he was afraid of Romont, he was mistaken. It is (he poirrti/^ not the close Oneches of his enemy, which prevonls iiis challenging him.

* Page. Colbrand, d'ye call him ? he' II make some of you Smoke^ I beline.] It is as rare fo find a conceit in iNlassingcr as to miss one in his C(»n(enii)(>rurii'^ : here. howcNer. fhere ap- pears bomediinn like an ;it(iiniit to lind a resemblance between ('i)lbrand and cold-brand ! In justice to the author it should bu added, that it is put into the month of a page. Colbrand was a l).ini->h giant, as may be seen in the reno'uncd Uialon^ of Uuii Lurl oj llariiu/if every child'. deli^;ht.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 417

Ai/m. Are you a consort r' Ro?n. Do you take me for A fiddler? you're deceived : look! I'll pay you.

\_Kicks them.

^ A} m. Are you a consort ?J i. c. come you here to be played on, Coxeter.

This cannot be the meaning, for a concert is not played on. M. Mason.

A concert is understood to mean instruments played upon. Davies.

And thus the text is illustrated ! Not one of these gentlemen had the slightest idea of what Massinger was saying, nor, which though not uncommon, is yet somewhat more extraordinary, of what he Avas saying himself.

In the author's age, the taverns were infested with itinerant bands of musicians, each of which (jointly and individually) was called a noise or consort : these were sometimes invited to play to the company, but seem more frequently to have thrust themselves, tmasked, into it, with an offer of their services: their intrusion was usually prefaced with, "By your leave, gentlemen, will you. hear any musick?" One example, in a case where hundreds may be produced, will make all clear :

" Enter Fiddler to the Company.

" Fid. Will't please you, gentlemen, to hear any musick ?

*' Bov. Shall we have ^ny ?

*' Seb. By no means ; it takes from our mirth.

*' Bov. Begone, then.

" Fid. A very good song, an't please you ?

'^ <S'e6. This is the trick of taverns, rohen men desire to be pri~ •vate.'' Shirley's Love's Cruelty.

Romont, who had broken into Novall's drcssingroom, with the customary phrase. By your leave, gent/emen, naturally draws from Aymer (a musician) the question he puts ; and Romont, who understands him, as naturally replies, 1 Avill shew you that I am not: musicians arc paid, whereas I wi\l pay (beat) you. This is the sense of the passage. I have before remarked on the strange conduct of Mr. M. Mason, in changing consort to concert, as often as it occurs.

Not many years since, a volume of Comments on the Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, was published by the Right Honourable

VOL. Ill, E e

418 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Page. It seems he knows you one, he bum- fiddles yoii so.

Liliid. Was there ever so base a fellow?

Aijm. A rascal.

L'iUkL a nK^st iincivii ixroom.

Aym. Offer to kick a i^entleman in a nobleman's chamber! a pox o'yonr manners!

Lilad. Let Jiim alone, let him alone : tlionshalt lose thy aim, fellow ; if we stir against tliee, liung us.

Pao-e. 'Sfoot ! I think they have the better on him thoni>;h thev be kick'd, they talk so.

Lilad. Let's leave the mad ape. [Goi/ig.

Nor. Jan. Gentlemen 1

Lilad. Nay, my lord, we will not offer to dis- lionour you so much as to stay by yon, since he's alone.

Nor. Jan. Hark }ou !

Ar/iii. We doubt the cause, and m ill not dis- parage you so mucii as to take your lordship's (juarrcl in band. Plague on him, bow be has c nun j) led our bands !

Page. I'll e'en away with them, for this soldier beats man, woman, and child.

[Kjca/it all but Naval! jini. and Roiiioh/.

.f. Moiick i\I;is(jn ; in uliicli, aniorii^ mlicr passages, I wa* soiiu'wiiat shuck witli llio rollo\viii>i :

'^ Or 1)1' of some good cmicn/." The Captain.

" The old reading isfo/j.vo/7, wliieli the editors lia\e iiij>iJiciuiis/i; cliaiiged to tD/icat, a mistake wU'uU the nlilor.s uf Shakspcarc have aKo run into." j). '217-

'I'lioiigh this may he tiiir. it rt(|ni,.'l a reitaiii degn-e of in- lre|)idit) to eiialile ii man wlio lu-MTsaw th«- word in .Ma^>illl:er without rorrn|)ting it, to hazard a Mierr ol this nature at (htf eilitors of Shalv^pearf. It inu>it he niiii nihered, that I sjnak i>u the supposition that the uuthur ofthc Comments \va:>ai!>u the editor ♦)t .Ma>.hinger.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 419

Nov.jun. What mean you, sir? My people !

Rofu. Your boy's gone, [Locks the door.

And your door's lock'd; yet for no hurt to you,

But privacy. Call up your blood again :

Be not afraid, I do beseech you, sir;" And, therefore, come, without more circumstance, Tell me how far the passages have gone ^Twixt you and your fair mistress, Beaumelle. Tell me the truth, and, by my hope of heaven, It never shall go further.

Nov. Jan. Tell you \ wliy, sir, Are you my confessor ?

Rom. I will be your confounder, if you do not.

\Dvaws a pocket dag.^ Stir not, nor spend your voice.

Nov. jun. What will you do ?

Rom. Nothing, but line your brain-pan, sir, with lead, If you not satisfy me suddenly : I am desperate of my life, and command yours.

^ Be not afraid, I do beseech i/oity sir,~\ This line is wholly omitted in the most correct of all editions.

9 Draws a pocket dag.], So the old copy. Coxeter not un- derstanding the word, absurdly corrupted it into dagger ! which gave an occasion to Mr. M. Mason to evince his sagacity : '•'Vet," says he, with a triumph over poor Massinger, "Romont's very next speech shews that this dagger was a pistol.'''' To so- phisticate an author's text for the sake of charging him with an absurdity, is hard dealing. It is singular that neither of these editors of an ancient poet, especially the last, who tells us of the necessity of consulting contemporary authors, should be apprized of the meaning of this term : dag was used by our old writers I'orapocket, in contradistinction to, what we now call, a horse- pistol ; and is thus found in many dramas of the 16th and 17th centuries. Thus, in the Spanish Tragedy^ which Coxeter, if not Mr. M. Mason, must have read :

" Serb. Wherefore should he send for me so late ?

" Fend. For this, Serberinc, and thou shalt have it.

[Shoots the dajj.

*' IVatch. Hark ! gentlemen; this is -d pistul.i\\ot.'^

Ee 2

420 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Nov.jim. Hold ! hold ! Til speak. I vow to heaven and you, She's yet untouch'd, more than her fare and hands. I cannot call her innocent ; tor, I 3 icld, On my solicitous wooing/ she consented. Where time and place met opportunity, To grant me all recpiests.

Rom. But mav I build On this assurance ?

Nov.juu. As upon your faith.

Ro7n. Write this, sir; nay, you must.

Nov.juu. Pox of this gun !

Rom. Withal, sir, you must swear, and pul your oath Under your hand, (shake not,) ne'er to frequent This lady's company, nor ever send Token, or message, or letter, to incline This, too much prone already, yielding lady.

Nov. Jan. 'Tis done, sir.

Rom. Let me see this first is right : And here you wish a sudden death may liiihl Upon your body, and hell take your soul, If ever more you see her, hut by chance ; Much less allure her. Now, ni}- lord, your hand.

Nov.jim. My hand to this !

Rom. Vour heart else, I assure }c)u.

Nov.juu. Nay, there 'tis.

Rom. So ! keep this last article Of your faith given, and, stead of threatening."?, sir, The service of m\' sword and life is yours. IJut not a word of it :- 'tis fairici.' treasun-. Wiiicli but rcvc-afd, brinies on the blabber's luiii. Use your youth l)etter, and this cxccnent form

■ On mil .soliiUous wooiiin, 1 Tin* quarto crronooii>ly loadu u/t»//''.v : amt'iiilctl by ilr. M. Mason.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 421

Heaven hath bestow'dupon you. So, good morrow

To your lordship ! [E:i'iL

JVov. juu. Good devil to your rogueship ! No

man's safe

I'll have a cannon planted in my chamber. Against such roaring rogues.

Enter Bel la pert, hastily.

Bell. My lord, away 1 The caroch stays : now have your wish, and judge If I have been forgetful.

JVov.ju)?. Hah !

Bell. Do you stand Humming and hahing now ? [E^cif.

Nov. jun. Sweet wench, I come. Hence, fear !

I swore — that's all one ; my next oath I'll keep That I did mean to break, and then 'tis quit. No pain is due to lovers' perjury : If Jove himself laugh at it, so will I. {E:vitu

SCENE II. A Hall in Aymer's House,

Enter Charalois and Beaumont.

Bean. I grieve for the distaste, though I have manners Not to enquire the cause, fallen out between, Your lordship and Romont,

Cliaral. I love a friend, So long as he continues in the bounds Prescribed by friendship ; but, when he usurps

422 THE FATAL DOVrRV.

Too far on' vhat is proper to myself, And puts the luibit of a governor on, I must and will preserve my li!)erty. But speak of something else, this is a theme I take no pleasure in. What's this Aymer, A\'hose voice for song, and excellent know ledge ia The chieie.«.t parts of miisiek, you bestow Such praises on ?

Beau, lie is a gentleman (For so his quality^ speaks hinO well received Amonoj our <>:reatcst i»allants : hut yet holds His main dejiendence from the young lordNovalL Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head, As all musicians have, and more of him I dare not author: but, when you have heard him, I may presume your lordshij) so w ill like him. That you'll hereafter be a friend to nuisick.

Charal. 1 never was an enemy to't, lieaumont,* Nor yet do I subscribe to the opinion Of those old captains, that thought nothing

musical But cries of yielding enemies, neighing of horses,

* Too far on •alnit &c.] The mocli'in editors omit o;;, to (he manifest iiijtiry both of the uictrc and the sense; but indeed their omissions in this play are innumerable.

' (For. so his (|ualitv spcuks h'nii) \ llh (/iia/iti/., i. e. h'i^^ proft's- s/071 of a mnsick-niaster. In the follouiim lines tliere is an allusion to another jirolession, (of a less honourable nature.) which, at that time, was commoni) united to the former, that of Xeepint; a bawd) house.

•* Charal. / imcr luas an nirmi/ to't, Ikaimumt, ^c.~\ \ suspect ^liat Mr. S(ee\eiis, the cor\ plueus of (•<llllnll•nlator^, «as but little ac(piainted with Massiujjer : In would not ntlurwise have failed to contrast this speech with that celebraled one of Shak- fc|)eare, 'I lit man that has no nuisic/,^ \c. with which he was known to \)r highly offended. What Steevens ne;;lected, (he reader has now an opportunity ofexecutin<i : an«l, (liouj;h I will not anti(i|)ate his judiiment, I must yt-t he permitted to say tlial the beaulick of thisi speech arc of no ordinar) kind.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 423

Clashing of armour, loud shouts, drums, and

trumpets : "Nor, on the other side, in favour of it, Aiiiim the world was made i)y musical discord ; Or that the happiness of our life consists In a well- varied note upon the lute :

I love it to the v/orth oft, and no further. ■

But let us see this wonder.

Beau. He prevents '^ly calling of him.

Enter Aymer, speak'uig to one iciihin.

Aym, Let the coach he hrouglit

To the back gate, and serve the banquet up.

My good lord Charalois ! I think my house Much honoured in your presence.

Ciiaral. To have means To know you better, sir, has brought me hither A willing visitant; and you'll crown my \velcome In making me a witness to your skill, Which, crediting from others, I admire.

Aym. Had I been one hour sooner made ac- quainted With your intent,' my lord, you should have

found me Better provided : now, such as it is, Pray you grace with your acceptance.

Beau You are modest.

jiym. Begin the last new air.

[7b tJie Musicians teitJiin.

Charal. Shall we not see them ?

Aytn. This little distance from the instruments Will to your ears convey the harmony With more delight.

Charal. I'll not contend.'

s Charal. I'll not contend.] The old reading is, I'll not consent. It appears to me that a wrong name has been prefixed

42-i THE FATAL DOWRY.

Aym, You are tedious. \To tJicJMiiskiajis.

By this means shall I ^ith one hauquct please Two companies, those within and these gulls here.

MUSICK, AND A SONG.

Bcaiimel. \icit]un.'\ I la ! ha ! ha !

Cliaral. How's this ! It is my lady's laugh, most certain. ^^ hen I first pleased lu-r, in this merry language She gave me thanks. \_^l.siik\

Btau. How like you this ?

Charal. 'Tis rare

Yet I may he deceived, and sliould he sorry,

Upon uncertain suppositions, rasldy

To write myself in the black list ot" those

I have declaimed against, and to Romont. [Jside.

Jlym. I would he were well oil" ! Perhaps

vonr lortlsliip Likes not these sad tunes? I have a new song, Set to a lighter note, may please you better; 'Tis caird ///(' Ildppy Ilus/jaud.

Charal. Pray you, sing it.

SONG nv Aymer.

BeaiiDwL \-aillun.'\ Ha! ha! "tis sucli a groom !

Charal. Do I hear tliis, And yet stand doubtful - [Ruahoiout.

yli/m. Stay him — I am undone, And they discover'd.

Jkau. What's the matter?

A}/ HI. Ah ! That Nvonuii, ^\ hcii they're well pleased, cannot

hold, J]ut nuist lauiih out,

to (his sliort speech, ai)d (h;i( it Ixlon^s in Reauinellt>, who Rpcaks \\i(hiii. Aymer is evidently .soliciloiis to kei-p C'haraloin out t)l heariiin ; and the mtilire is not fo lie praised by whieii his lady ii made so clamorous and so incautious. The altciatiou in l»v Coxeter.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 425

Ile-e)2ter CnARALOis,with his sword drazvii, pursuing ^ovALLJunioi^ Beaumelle, and Bellapert.

Nov.jun. Help! save me ! murder! murder! Beaumcl. Undone, undone, for ever ! * Charal. Ob, my heart ! Hold yet a little — do not hope to scape By flight, it is impossible. Though I might On all advantage take thy life, and justly ; This sword, my father's sword, that ne'er was drawn But to a noble purpose, shall not now Do the office of a hangman. I reserve it To right mine honour, not for a revenge So poor, that though M^ith thee it should cut off Thy family, with all that are allied To thee in lust or baseness, 'twere still short of All terms of satisfaction. Draw !

Nov.juu. I dare not: I have already done you too much wrong, To fight in such a cause.

Charal. Why, darest thou neither Be honest, coward, nor yet valiant, knave ! In such a cause come, do not shame thyself : Such whose bloods wrongs, or wrong done to

themselves^ Could never heat, are yet in the defence Of their M'hores, daring. Look on her again :

* Beaumcl. Undone, vitdoiic, for ever .'] This short speech is taken by the modern etlitors from Beaumelle, and given to Bel- lapert '. Nothing was ever more injudicious. It is all she says, and all she properly could say.

7 Such xi/tone bloods wrongs, or wrong done to themselves &c.] I believe this means, those whose bloods general or individual injuries could never heat, &c. It' this be not allowed, we must read, and wrong done to themselves, instead of or, the sense will then be sufficiently clear. Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason evi- dently misunderstood the passage, which is misprinted in both.

426 THE FATAL DOWRY.

You tlioiiixht her -wort]! tlie hazard of vour soul. And yet stand doubtful, in her quarrel to Venture your body.

Beau. No, he fears his clothes, ■More than his flesh.

CharuL Keep from me ! guard tliy life, Or, as thou hast li\'ed like a goat, thou .shalt Die like a sheep.

Non. JKii. Since there's no remedy, Despair of safety now in me prove courage !

[Thcyjiglif, Xurallfalh. CharaL How soon weak wrong's o'crthrown f Lend me } our hand ; Bear this to the caroch — come, you have taught me To say, you must and shall :

[Ejea/it Beaumont and Bcllapcrt, ulth the Bodi^ of Novall; J'oUoiced hi) Beaiimtlle.

I wronii' vou not. You are but to keep him company you love. —

Re-enter Beaumont.

Is't done? 'tis well. Raise officers, and take care

All you can ajij)rehcnd w ithin tiie house

]\Liy be forthcoming. Da I apj)earmuch moved ?

Beau. No, sir.

CharaL My griefs are now thus to l)e born ; Hereafter Til iiuil time and place to mourn.

S^hlxeunt.

SCENL HL

A Street.

Enter Romoxt (dkI Poxtai.ifh.

Pont. I was bound to >crk you, sir. Jla//i. And, iiad xou t<»uiul nu; In any place but in the street, 1 should

TILE FATAL DOWRY. 427

Have done, — not talk'd to you. Are you, the

captain, The hopeful Pontalier, M'hom I liave seen Do in the held such service as tlien made you Their envy that coinmanded, here at home To phiy the parasite to a gikled knave, And, it may be, the pander?

Pont. Without this, I come to call you to account- for what Is past already. I, by your example Of thankfulness to the dead general, By whom you were raised, have practised to be so To my good lord Novall, by whom I live; Whose least disgrace that is or may be ofter'd, With all the hazard of my life and fortunes I will make good on you, or any man That has a hand in't : and, since you allow nic A gentleman and a soldier, there's no doubt You will except against me. You shall meet With a fair enemy : you understand The right I look for, and must have ?

Rom. I do, And with the next day's sun you shall hear from me. ' [Ejceunt.

SCENE IV.

A Room in Charalois' House.

Enter Charalois with a casket, Beaumelle,

and Beaumont.

Charal. Pray bear this to my father, at his leisure He may peruse it : but with your best language Entreat his instant presence. You have sworn Not to reveal what I have done.

428 THE FATAL DOWR^'.

Jk'oif. Nor will I — but

Cluiral. Doubt mc not ; by heaven, I will do nothing- But what may stand with honour. Pray yon, leave me [^Edit Bcaioiwut.

To my own thoughts. — If this be to me, rise;

[Beamucl/c kneels. I am not worth the looking on, but only To feed contempt and scorn ; and that from you. Who, with the loss of your fair name, have caused it, Were too much cruelty.

Beaumcl. I dare not move you To hear me speak. I know niy fault is far Bc3'ond qualification or excuse ; That 'tis not lit for me to hope, or you To think of mercy ; only I presume To entreat you would be pleased to look upon My sorrow for it, and believe these tears Are the true children of my grief, and not A woman's cunning.

Cliaral. Can you, Beaumclle, Having deceived so great a trust as mine, 1'hoiigli 1 were all credulity, hope again To get belief? No, no; if you look on me A\ ith pity, or dare j)ractise any means To make my suiferings less, or give just caiisr To all the world to think what 1 imist do Was caird iij)on by yon, use other ways: Deny what 1 have seen, or jll^tify What you have done ; and, as \^^\\ desperately ]\Ia(le shi])wreck of youi I'aith. to be a uhore, llsc the arms of sucli a one, and such (h'fcnc e. And niuhi])lv the sin with iinjjudencc. Stand boldly uj), and tell nic to my teeth, 'i hat you have done but \s hat is warranted By great examples, in all ])laeis whnc Women inhabit ; urge your own deserts,

THE FATAL DOWRY. 429

Or want of me in merit ; tell me how Your dower from the low gulf of poverty Weighed up my fortunes to what they now are : That I was purchased hy your choice and prac- tice, To shelter you from shame, that you might sin As boldly as securely : that poor men Are married to those wives that bring them

wealth, One day their husbands, but observers ever. That when, by this proud usage, you have blown The fire of my just vengeance to the height, I then may kill you, and yet say 'twas done In heat of blood, and after die myself, To witness my repentance.

Beaumel. O my fate ! That never would consent that I should see How worthy you were both of love and dut}"^ ~~ Before I lost you ; and my misery made The glass in which I now behold your virtue ! While I was good I was a part of you, And of two, by the virtuous harmony Of our fair minds, made one; but, since I wan-

der'd In the forbidden labyrinth of lust,

What was inseparable is by me divided.

With justice, therefore, you may cut me off, And from your memory wash the remembrance That e'er I was ; like to some vicious purpose. Which, in your better judgment, you repent of, And study to forget.

Charal. O Beaumelle, That you can speak so well, and do so ill ! But you had been too great a blessing, if You had continued chaste: see, how you force me To this, because mine honour will not yield That I again should love you.

430 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Bmumcl. In tliis lite It is not lit you sliould : yet you shall tintl, Thoug'h I was bold enough to be a strumpet, I dare not yet li\e one. Let those tanietl

matrons, That are canonized v.orthv ot" our sex, Tran.scend me in their sanctity of lite; I yet will equal them in dying nobly, Andjitious of no honour after life, Uiit that, when I am deatl, you will forgive me. Cluneal. liow pity steals upon me ! shoidd I

hear her [K/zockif/^- icitli'iu.

But ten words more, I M'cre lost. — One knocks,

go in. \^Edit BcaioncUc.

That to be merciful shoukl be a sin !

Enter Hochfout.

O, sir, most M'clcome ! Let me take your cloak,

I must not be denied. — Here are your robes,

As you love justice, once more put them on.

Tliere is a cause to be determined of.

That does re(juire such an integrity

As you have ever used. — Lll j)ut you to

Tlie trial of your constancy and goodness:

And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed

Li otlier men's afl'airs, pro\'e not a mole

Li what concerns yourself. Take \ ou vour seat ;

I will !)(' for" you presently. [E.iiL

llocli. Anjrels truard me ! To what strani>"e tratrcdv does this induction'' Serve fur a prologue ?

' / XLill bi' {nr i/ou pnsni/fi/.^ So <Iu' (jiiai<<» : (In- modern rtli- tors read, / ui// Ijcj'orf i/nii jircsrntli/ : hut ulictliiT I)) niistakc, or hoiii ail idea of improving ttu- text, I (aiiiiot U'll.

9 'J'u uliat all inline tra^fJi/ dois this iiulm limi HiTic Jiir a prulvguc ^ \ TLc old coj)) reads, docs t/iis i\c-

THE FATAL DOWRY. 431

Re-enter Charalois, Beaumelle, and Beau- mont, with Servants bearing the Body of ^o- V ALL Junior.

Charal. So, set it clown before The judgment - seat, — [Ed'eunt Servafits.] — and

stand you at the bar: For me, I am the accuser.

Rock. Novall slain ! And Beaumelle, my daughter, in the place Of one to be arraign'd !

Charal. O, are you touch'd ! I find that I must take another course. Fear nothing, I will only blind your eyes ;

[i/e bi)ids his eyes. For justice should do so, Mdien 'tis to meet An object that may sway her equal doom From whdit it should be aim'd at. — Good, my lord, A clay of hearing.

Roch. It is granted, speak ■

You shall have justice.

Charal. I then here accuse, Most equal judge, t'he prisoner, your fair daughter, For whom I owed so much to you ; your daughter. So worthy in her own parts, and that worth Set forth by yours, to whose so rare perfections, Truth witness with me, in the place of service I almost paid idolatrous sacrifice, To be a false adulteress.

Roch. \X\t\\ Mhom ?

^Charal. With this Novall here dead.

Roch. Be well advised;

stniction &c. The aracntlmcnt, which is a happy one, was sug- gtsted hy Mr. M. Mason. Tlius in the Gytaniiun : " This is but an induction ; I'll draw " The curtains of the trai^ali/^ hereafter.'*

432 THE FATAL DOWRY.

And ere you say adulteress again,

Iler fame depending on it, be most sure

That she is one.

Chariil. I took them in the act: I know no proof beyond it.

Rocli. O my heart !

Cfiaral. A judge sliould feci no passions.

Jxoch. Vet remember He is a man, and cannot put ofF nature. A\ hat answer makes tlie prisoner?

Beaumel. I confess The fact 1 am charged witli, and yiehl myself Most miserably guilty.

Rocli. Heaven take mercy Upon your soul, then ! it must leave your body. — Kow free mine eyes; 1 dare unmoved look on her,

[Charalois luib'uuls Ills eyes. And fortify my sentence with strong reasons. Since that the i)olitick law provides that servants, To whose care mc connnit our goods, shall die If they abuse our trust, what can you look for, To Avhose cliarge this most hopeful lord gave up All he received from his brave ancestors, Or lie could leave to his posterity, His honour, wicked woman ! in whose safety All his life's joys antl comforts were lock'd up,

M'liich thy ' lust, a thief, hath now stolen

from him ; And therefore

CharaL Stay, just judge ; — may not that's lost l»y her one fault (for 1 am charitable, Aud charge lier not with many) be forgotten In lier fair life hereafter?

' Wliitli tliji - - • - lust, a thief, kc.'\ Sonic opitln't ti) lust, has Ix'cii lost at flu- press ; (In- reader may siip])ly tlie hr«'ak \\\\\\ /lul^Juulj or any oilier uiuuub) liable ul ii kimhcil iiieaiiiiii^.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 433

Roch. Never, sir. The wrong that's clone to the chaste married bed Repentant tears can never expiate ; And be assured, to pardon such a sin Is an offence as sreat as to commit it.

Charal, I may not then forgive her ?

Roch. Nor she hope it. Nor can she wish to live : no sun shall rise, But, ere it set, shall shew her ugly lust In a new shape, and every one more horrid. Nay, even those prayers which, with such humble

fervour, She seems to send up yonder, are beat back, And all suits which her penitence can proffer, As soon as made, are with contempt thrown out Of all the courts of mercy.

Charal. Let her die, then ! [He stabs her.

Better prepared, I'm sure, I could not take her, Nor she accuse her father, as a judge Partial against her.

Beaumel. I approve his sentence, And kiss the executioner. My lust Is now run from me in that blood in which It was begot and aiourish'd. [Dies.

Roch. Is she dead, then ?

Charal. Yes, sir ; this is her heart-blood, is it not? I think it be.

Roch. And you have kill'd her?

Charal. True, And did it by your doom.

Roch. But I pronounced it As a judge only, and a friend to justice ; And, zealous in defence of your wrong'd honour, Broke all the ties of nature, and cast off The love and soft affection of a father. I, in your cause, put on a scarlet robe

VOL, III. F f

434 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Of red-died cruelty ; but, in return, You have advanced for me no flag of mercy. I look'd on you as a wrono;*d husband ; hut You closed your eyes against me as a father.

0 Jjeaumelle ! my daughter ! Cliaral. This is madness.

Rock. Keep from me ! — Could not one good thought rise up. To tell you that she was my age's comfort, Ik'got ])y a Meak man, and horn a Ionian, And could not, therefore, but partake of frailty? Or wherefore did not tliankfidness step forth, To urge my many merits, which I may Object unto you, since you prove ungrateful, Flint-hearted Charalois !

Charal. Nature does prevail Above your virtue.

• Roch. No; it gives me eyes To pierce the heart of your design against me :

1 find it noNV^, it was my state was aniTd at.

A nobler match was sought for, and the hours I lived grew tedious to you: my compassion ToM-'rds you hath rendered me most miserable, And foolish charity undone myself But there's a heaven above, from ^\ hose just « wreak

No mists of policy can hide ofllenders.

Nuv. sen. [wit/iin.] Force ope the doors ! —

Enter Novall senior, xcilh Oljiccrs.

() mounter ! cannibal ! Lay hold on him. My son, my son ! — O Kochfort, 'Twas you ga\c lihtTty to lliis Moody uoH,

To worry all our comforts: but this is

No time to (piancl ; now give your assistance Vi)V the revenge

THE FATAL DOWRY. 435

Rock. Call it a fitter name, Justice for innocent blood.

Charal. Thougli all conspire Against that life which I am weary of, A little longer yet I'll strive to keep it. To shew, in spite of malice and their laws, His plea must speed, that hath an honest cause.

\E.veu7it.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A Street. Enter Tailor, and two Bailiffs with Liladam.

Lilad. Why, 'tis both most unconscionable and

untimely, To arrest a gallant for his clothes, before He has worn them out: besides, you said you

ask'd My name in my loid's bond but for form only, And now you'll lay me up for't ! Do not think The taking measure of a customer By a brace of varlets,* though I rather wait Never so patiently, will prove a fashion Which any courtier or inns-of-court-man Would follow willingly.

Tail. There I believe you. But, sir, I must have present monies, or Assurance to secure me when I shall ; Or I will see to your coming forth.

'^ By a brace o/" varlets^] So our old writers call the sheriff's officers.

Ff 2

436 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Lilad. Plague oift ! You have provided for my entrance in, That coming forth you talk of concerns me. What shall I do? you have done me a disgrace In the arrest, but more in giving cause To all the street to think I cannot stand Without these tAvo supporters for my arms. Pray you, let them loose me: for their satisfac- tion, I will not run away.

7\iiL For theirs you will not ; Butforyourownyou would. Looktohim, fellows.

Lilad. Why, do you call them fellows ? do not wrono" Your reputation so. As you are merely A tailor, faithful, apt to believe in gallants, You are a com])anion at a ten-crown supper For cloth of bodkin, and may with one lark Eat up three manchets, and no man observe you, Or call your trade in (Question for't. But, when You study your debt-book, and hold correspon- dence With officers of the lianger, and leave swordsmen, The learn'd conclude, the tailor and the serjeant, In the expression of a knave and thief, To be synonyma.' Look, therefore, to it, And let us part in peace; I would be loth You should undo yourself.

' To Z»c synonyma.] Ilcrc again Mr. M.Mason follows Coxc- tcr in reading synonymous: but the old word was thai which I have tzivrn. So Joiison:

'• WMiorc i'v»T) (inker for his chink may cr)\, " Ro;iue, bawd, and cheater, call you by the surnames " And \i\\o\\n sjinouijvia of your profession." The A'txu Inn, See ihc EiiijKiur i>J the Euaf, |). 'il7.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 437

E?iter Nov ALL senior , and Pontalier.

Tail. To let you go Were the next way. But see! here's your old

lord ; Let him hut give his word I shall be paid, And you are free.

Lilad. "Slid ! I will put him to't, I can be but denied: or — what say you ?, His lordship owing me three times your debt, If you arrest him at my suit, and let me Go run before, to see the action enter' d, 'Twould be a witty jest!

Tail. I must have earnest : I cannot pay my debts so.

Pont. Can your lordship Imagine, while I live, and wear a sword, Your son's death shall be unrevenged ?

Nov. sen. I know not One reason why you should not do like others : I am sure, of all the herd that fed upon him, I cannot see in any, now he's gone, In pity or in thankfulness, one true sign Of sorrow for him.

Pont. All his bounties yet Fell not in such unthankful ground: 'tis true, He had weaknesses, but such as few are free from ; And, though none sooth'd them less than I, (for

now. To say that I foresaw the dangers that Would rise from cherishing them, were but

untimely,) I yet could wish the justice that you seek for In the revenge, had been trusted to me. And not the uncertain issue of the laAV^s. It has robb'd me of a noble testimony

43S THE FATAL DOWRY.

Of what I durst do for liim: — but, however, My forfeit hfcredeem'd by him, though dead, Shall do him service.

Nov. sen. As far as my grief Will give me leave, I thank you.

Li /ad. O, my lord ! Oh my good lord ! deliver me from these Furies.

FoNt. Arrestctl ! this is one of them, whase base And abject flattery helpVl to dig his grave : He is not worth your pity, nor my anger. Go to the basket, and repent.*

Nov. sen. Awav ! I only know thee now to hate thee deadly : I will do nothiniv for thee.

Lilad. Nor you, captain ?

Pont. No; toyour trade again; put off this case: It may be, the discovering what you were, AVhen your unfortunate master took you up, IVIay move compassion in your creditor. Confess the truth.

[Exeunt Novall sen. and Pontalier,

Lihul. And now I think on't better, I will.' Brother, your hand; your hand, sweet

brother : I'm of your sect, and my gallantry but a dream, Out of whicb these two fearful aj)pariti()ns, Airainst mv will, have waketl me. This rich sword

♦ Go to the basket and repcnt.~\ The allusion is to tlio sh(Tifl''R basket, in wliicli broken nu'at was collcctctl tor (lie use of pri- soners for (It |j(. See the L'i/j/ Miiilani.

5 Lilad. Jiid nuxv I think un't brttir, I will, &C.J This is most exqnisite mock-heroirk ; it is, per- haps, a liKle nut of phne; bill it serves opportiiiieiy enough to prove how diHerentl) (he eoiiiic k pari of llii^ (Ir.iiua would have aj)|)ear<'d, if the wliolc had fortunately fallen iii(o (he hands of Massinger.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 439

Grew suddenly out of a tailor's bodkin ; These hangers from my vails and fees in hell; And where as now this beaver sits, full often A thrifty cap, composed of broad-cloth lists, Near-kin unto the cushion where I sat Cross-leggM, and yet ungarter'd, hath been seen : Our breakfasts, famous for the butter'd loaves, I have with joy been oft acquainted with ; And therefore use a conscience, though it be Forbidden in our hall towards other men, To me, that, as I have been, will again Be of the brotherhood.

1 Bail. I know him now; He was a prentice to Le Robe at Orleans.

Lilad. And from thence brought by my young lord, now dead, Unto Dijon, and with him, till this hour, Have been received here for a complete monsieur, Nor wonder at it: for but tithe our gallants. Even those of the first rank, and you will find In every ten, one, perad venture two, That smell rank of the dancing-school or fiddle, The pantofle or pressing-iron: — but hereafter We'll talk of this. I will surrender up My suits again, there cannot be much loss ; 'Tis but the turning of the lace, with one Addition more you know of, and what wants I will work out.

Tail. Then here our quarrel ends : The gallant is turn'd tailor, and all friends.

\ExcunL

440 THE FATAL DOWRY.

SCENE 11.

The Court of Justice. Enter Romoxt mid Beaumont.

Rom. You have tliem ready?

Beau. Yes, unci they will speak Their knowledge in this cause, ^vhen you think

fit To have them call'd upon.

Rom. 'Tis well ; and something I can add to their evidence, to prove This hrave revcn<>;e, which they would have

caird murder, A noble justice.

Beau. In this you express (The breach by my lord's want of you new made

"p)'..

A faithful friend.

Rom. That friendship's raised on sand, Which every sudden gust of discontent, Or ilowing of our passions, can change, As if it ne'er had been: — but do you know "\\ ho are to sit on him ?

Beau. Monsieur Du Croy, Assisted by Charmi.

* (T/tr hitac/i bi/ mil lord's uanf (>f jjou new viade ?//))] For nrxc made up, Mr. M. Mason iliooscs (o read, iiuvi made up, altlum^h it be not easy to diseover what is gained by the alteration. For the rest, this Iluniont still continues a most noble fellow. How Kowe (((uld read his next speech and de^ratle his ropy (Ho- ratio) into a sciiiiiiunlal rhapsoili^t, (jiieniloii^, captious, and unfeeling;, I i.iiiiiot conicclurc, unless it were that he deter- mini'd to ( rcafc no violent interest lor any oi hi» characters but the hero and the heroine of the piece.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 441

Rom. The advocate That pleaded for the marshal's funeral, And was check'd for it by Novall ?

Beau. The same.

Rom. How fortunes that ?

Beau. Why, sir, my lord Novall Being the accuser, cannot be the judge ; Nor would grieved Rochfort but lord Charalois, However he might wrong him by his power, Should have an equal hearing.

Rom. By my hopes Of Charalois' acquittal, I lament That reverend old man's fortune.

Beau. Had you seen him, As, to my grief, I have, now promise patience. And, ere it was believed, though spake by him That never brake his Avord,' enraged again So far as to make war upon those hairs. Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume To touch, but wnth a superstitious fear. As something sacred; — and then curse his

daughter, But with more frequent violence, himself, As if he had been guilty of her fault. By being incredulous of your report. You would not only judge him worthy pity. But suffer with him: — but here comes the prisoner ;

Enter Officers with Charalois.

I dare not stay to do my duty to him ;

Yet, rest assured, all possible means in me

To do him service keeps you company. [E^vlt.

7 That never brake his word,^ So the old copy. Mr. M. Mason reads, breaks his word !

442 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Rojii. It is not doubted.

Charal. M hy, yet as I came hither, The people, apt to mock calamit}-, And tread on tlie oppress'd, made no horns at me, Thoug'h they are too tamihar I deserve them. And, knowing too what blood my sword hath

drunk, In wreak ot" that disgrace, they yet forbear To shake their heads, or to revile me for A murderer; they rather all put on, As for great losses the old Romans used, A general face of sorrow, waited on J3v a sad murmur breakino- through their silence: And no eye but Mas readier with a tear To M itness 'twas shed for me, than I could Discern a face made up with scorn against me. M'hy should I, then, though for unusual wrongs I chose unusual means to right those wrongs, Condemn myself, as over-partial In my own cause? — Romont !

Rom. I>est friend, well met ! By my heart's love to you, and join to tliat, Aly thankfulness that still lives to the dead,' I look upon you now with more true joy Than when I saw you married.

Charal, You liave reason To irive you warrant for't: my fallin<»- off From such a friendship, with the scorn that an- swered Your t(j() prophetick counsel, may well move you To think your meeting me, going to my death, A fit encounter for that hate which justly I have deserved from you.

' Mil thankfulness that still lives in the dead, ] i. o. to the old marslial, whom Romont never forgets, nor sullers his lieiirers to forgil.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 443

Rom. Shall I still, then, Speak truth, and be ill understood ?

Chared. You are not. I am conscious I have wronged you; and allow me Only a moral man,' — to look on you, Whom foolishly 1 have abused and injured, Must of necessity be more terrible to me, Than any death the judges can pronounce From the tribunal which I am to plead at.

Rom. Passion transports you.

Charal. For what I have done To my false lady, or Novall, I can Give some apparent cause; but touching you, In my defence, child-like, I can say nothing But, I am sorry for't ; a poor satisfaction ! And yet, mistake me not; for it is more Than I will speak, to have my pardon sign'd For all I stand accused of.

Rom. You much weaken The strength of your good cause, should you

but think, A man for doing well could entertain A pardon, were it offer'd : you have given To blind and slow-paced justice wings and eyes, To see and overtake impieties. Which, from a cold proceeding, had received Indulgence or protection. Charal. Think you so?

Ro77i. Upon my soul ! nor should the blood you challenged. And took to cure your honour, breed more scruple In your soft conscience, than if your sword

9 and allow me

Onli/ a moral man, — ] i. e. allow me to be endowed only with the common principles of morality, (setting aside those of reli- gion,) and to look on you, &c.

444 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Had been sheath'd in a tiger or slie-bear,' That in tlieir bowels would have made your

tomb. To injure innocence is more than murder: But when inhuman lusts transform us, then As beasts we are to suffer, not like men To be lamented. Nor did Charalois ever Perform an act so worthy the applause Of a full theatre of perfect men, As he hath done in this. The glory got By overthrowing outward enemies, Since strength and fortune are main sharers in it, We cannot, but by pieces, call our own: But, when we conquer our intestine foes, Our passions bred within us, and of those The most rebellious tyrant, powerful love, Our reason suffering us to like no longer Than the fair object, being good, deserves it, That's a true victory! which, were great men Aud)itious to achieve, by your example Setting no price upon the breach of faith, But loss of life, 'twould frii>;ht adultery Out of their lamilies, and make lust appear As loathsome to us in the first consent, As when 'tis waited on by ])unishment.

Cliaral. You have confirm"d me. Who would love a woman. That might enjoy in such a man a friend! "\'ou have made me know the justice of my cause, And mark'd me out the way how to defend it.

Rom. Continue to that resolution constant,

' Had hern sheath'd in a lifter or .she-bear,^ The allusion is to JSi'oviill aiid l?raiim(lh' ; bii( Mr. M. Miison, who had already fori;()Urii tiiat tlic rormcr had CaiiiMi b) (he hand of Cliaralois, altt-rs tiger to tigress. Such a passion for innovation, with so littjp discretion to direct it, is suicly seldom found in the saiuw

JHTSOn.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 445

And you shall, in contempt of their worst malice, Come off with honour — here they come. CharaL I am ready.

Ente7' Du Croy, Charmi, Rochfort, Novall soiior, PoNTALiER, fl;?^/ Beaumont.

Nov. sen. See, equal judges, with what confi- dence The cruel murderer stands, as if he would Outface the court and justice !

Roch. But look on him, And you shall find, for still methinks I do, Though guilt hath died him black, something

good in him, That may perhaps work with a wiser man Than I have been, again to set him free. And give him all he has.

Charm. This is not well. I would you had lived so, my lord, that I Might rather have continued your poor servant, Than sit here as your judge. Du Croy. I am sorry for you. Roch. In no act of my life I have deserved This injury from the court, that any here Should thus uncivilly usurp on what Is proper to me only.

Du Croy. What distaste Receives my lord ?

Roch. You say you are sorry for him ; A grief in which I must not have a partner. 'Tis I alone am sorry, that when I raised The building of my life, for seventy years. Upon so sure a ground, that all the vices Practised to ruin man, though brought against

me. Could never undermine, and no way left

446 THE FATAL DOWRY.

To send these gray hairs to the grave with sorrow,

Virtue, that was my patroness, betray'cl me.

For, entering, nay, possessing this young man, ■

It lent him such a powerful majesty

To grace wliatc'er he undertook, that freely

I gave myself up, w ith my liberty.

To be at his disposing. Had his person.

Lovely I must confess, or far-famed valour,

Or any other seeming good, that yet

Holds a near neighbourhood with ill, wrought on

me, I migiit have born it better : but, when goodness And piety itself in her best figure A\'ere bribed to my destruction, can you blame me, Thouiih 1 forLL'ct to suffer like a man. Or rather act a woman ? BccitL Good, my lord ! — Nov. sen. You hinder our proceeding. C/tar. And fori'-et The parts of an accuser.

Btau. Pray you, remember To use the temper which to me you promised. Rocli. Angels themselves nuist break, Beau- mont, that promise Be}()nd the strength and patience of angels. But I have done : —My good lord, ])ar(lon me, A weak old man, and, pray you, add to that, A miserable father; yet be careful That your comj)as.si()n oliny age, nor his, Move you to any thing that may misbecome' The place on w liich you sit. ('liar. Kcad the indictment. Cluirdl. It siiall !)(' needless; l mvself, niv lords.

' that muti misberoiiii: ] The

old ropy roads (lis.lncoiiii\y uii uiiii&iial word, but icfiularly loriiud. I (li<»iii;lit it wo.fli iiotiriiii.', thoui;h 1 li.ivi- not di»- turbcd Cuxclcr'b luucicd iui])rou-uicii(.

THE FATAL DOWRY.

447

Will be my own accuser, and confess

All they can charge me with, nor will I spare

To aggravate that guilt with circumstance

They seek to load me with ; only I pra}^

That, as for them you will vouchsafe me hearing,

I may not be denied it for myself, when I

Shall urge by what unanswerable reasons

I was compeird to what I did, which yet,

Till you have taught me better, I repent not.

Roch. The motion's honest. /

Char. And 'tis freely granted.

Chared. Then I confess, my lords, that I stood bound, When, with my friends, even hope itself had left

me, To this man's charity, for my liberty; Nor did his bounty end there, but began: For, after my enlargement, cherishing The good he did, he made me master of His only daughter, and his whole estate. Great ties of thankfulness, I must acknowledge : Could any one, fee'd by you, press this further ? — But yet consider, my most honour'd lords, If to receive a favbur make a servant, And benefits are bonds to tie the taker To the imperious will of him that gives, There's none but slaves will receive courtesies, Since thev must fetter us to our dishonours. Can it be calfd magnificence in a prince. To pour down riches with a liberal hand Upon a poor man's wants, if that must bind

him To play the soothing parasite to his vices ? Or any man, because he saved my hand. Presume my head and heart are at his service? Or, did I stand engaged to buy my freedom (When my captivity was honourable)

448 THE FATAL DOWRY.

By making myself here, and fame hereafter, Bondslaves to men's scorn, and calumnious

tongues r — Had his fairdaugliter's mindheen like herfeature, Or, for some little hlemish, I had sought For my content elsewhere, wasting on others M}' body and her doMer ; my forehead then Deserved the brand of base ingratitude : But if obsequious usage, and fair warning To keep her worth my love, could not preserve her From being a whore, and yet no cunning one, So to ott'end, and yet the fault kept from mc, AVluit should I do? Let any free-born spirit Determine truly, if that thankfulness, Choice form, with the whole world given for a

dowry. Could strengthen so an honest man with patience, As M'ith a willing neck to undergo The insupportable yoke of slave, or Mittol.

Char. What proof have you she did play false, besides Your oath ?

Cliaral. Her omii confession to her father: I ask him for a witness.

lloch. 'Tis most true. I would not willingly blend my last words AV'ith an untruth.

Cliaral. And then to clear myself, That his great wealth was not the mark I shot at, But that I held it, wben fair Beaumelle I'ell from her virtue, like the fatal gold A\'hi( li Brennus took from Dclphos,^ whose pos- session Brought with it ruin to himself and army:

J tiki' the fatal ;j,i,ld

IVhich r.iriiiius took from Drtptios, \ This was .so dcstruclivr lu all who bharcd it, Ibal it grew into a proverb. See Eras. Adii'^.

THE FATAL DOWRY. 449

Here's one in court, Beaumont, by whom I sent All crrants and \vritin.o"s back which made it mine, Before his daughter died by his own sentence, As freely as, unask'd, he gave it to me.

Beau. They are here to be seen.

Char. Open the casket. Peruse that deed of i>;ift.

Rom. Half of the dan o-er Already is discharged ; the other part As bravely ; and you are not only free, But crown'd with praise for ever !

Dii Croy. 'Tis apparent.

Char. Your state, my lord, again is yours.

Roch. Not mine ; I am not of the world. If it can prosper, (And yet, being justly got, I'll not examine Why it should be so fatal,) do 3^ou bestow it On pious uses: I'll go seek a grave. And yet, for proof I die in peace, your pardon I ask ; and, as you grant it me, may heaven, Your conscience, and these judges, free you from What you are charged with ! So, farewell for ever! — [E.vit

Nov. sen. I'll be' mine own y-uide. Passion nor example Shall be my leaders. I have lost a son, A son, grave judges; I require his blood From his accursed homicide.

Char. What reply you, In your defence, for this?

Charal. I but attended Your lordship's pleasure. — For the fact, as of The former, I confess it ; but with what Base wrongs I was unwillingly drawn to it. To my few words there are some other proofs To M'itness this for truth. When I was married, For there I must begin, the slain Novall

VOL. III. G g

450 THE FATAL DOWRY.

Was to my Avifc, in May of our French courtship, A most devotctl servant ; hut yet anned at Nothing hut means to iiuencli his wanton heat, His heart heing never Marm'tl by lawful lires, As mine was, lords : and though, on these pre- sumptions, JoinVl to the hate between liis house and mine, I might, with opportunit}' and ease. Have found a way for my revenge, I did not ; Rut still he had the freedom as before, ^\'hcn all was mine : and, told that he abused it With some unseendy license, by my friend, My approved friend, Romont, I gave no credit To the reporter, but reproved him for it. As one uncourtly and malicious to liim. What could I more, my lords ? Yet, after this. He did continue in his first pursuit, Hotter than ever, and at length obtain'd it ; But, how it came to my most certain knowledge, For the dignity of the court, and my ow n honour, I dare not say.

Nov. sen. If all may i)e believed A passionate prisoner speaks, who is so foolish That durst be wicked, that will appear guilty? No, my grave lords; in his impunity But give example unto Jealous men To cut the throats they hate, and they will never Want matter or pretence for their bad ends.

Char. You must find other proofs, to strengthen these liut mere presumj>ti()ns.

l)u Croi/. Or we shall hardly Allow your innocence.

Cluiral. All your attempts Shall fall (III nie like brittle shafts on armour, That break tiicmselves; or waves against a rock, That leave no sign of their ridiculous fury

THE FATAL DOWRY. 451

But foam and splinters: my innocence, like these, Shall stand triumphant, and your malice serve But for a trumpet to proclaim my conquest. Nor shall you, though you do the worst fate

can, Howe'er condemn, aifright an honest man.

Rom. May it please the court, I may be heard?

Nov. sen. You come not To rail again ? but do — you shall not find Another Rochfort.

Rom. In Novall I cannot ; But I come furnished with what will stop The mouth of his conspiracy 'gainst the life Of innocent Charalois. Do you know this cha- racter ?

Nov. sen. Yes, 'tis my son's.

Rom. May it please your lordships, read it : And you shall find there, with what vehemency lie did solicit Beaumelle ; how he got A promise from her to enjoy his wishes ; How after, he abjured her company, And yet — but that 'tis fit I spare the dead — Like a damn'd villain, as soon as recorded, He brake that oath : — to make this manifest. Produce his bawds and her's.

Enter Officers with Aymer, Florimel, and Bellapert.

Char. Have they ta'en their oaths ? Rom. They have, and, rather than endure the rack, Confess the time, the meeting, nay, the act ; What Mould you more ? only this matron made A free discovery to a good end ; And therefore 1 sue to the court she may not Be placed in the black list of the delinquents.

Gg2

452 TIIK FATAL DOWRY,

Pout. I see by this, Novall's revenge needs mc, And I shall do [Aside.

Char. 'Tis evident.

Nov. aen. Tliat I Till now Avas never wretcheil: here's no place To curse him or my stars. [Exit.

Char. Lord Charalois, The injuries you have sustain'd appear So worthy of the mercy of the court, That, notwithstanding you have gone beyond The letter of the law, they yet accpiit you.

Pout. But, in Novall, I do condemn him — thus. [Stabs him.

Cliaral. I am slain.

Rom. Can I look on? Oh, murderous w retch ! Thy challenge now I answer. So ! die with him.

[Stabs Pontalicr.

Char. A 2;uard ! disarm him.

Rom. I yield up my sword Unforced — Oh, Charalois !

Charal. For shame, Romont, !Mourn not for him that dies as he hath lived ; Still constant and unmoved; Mhat's falTn upon

mc Is by heaven's will, because I made myself A jndge in my own cause, M'ithout their warrant : But he that lets me know thus much in tk'ath, With all good men — forgive me ! [Dies.

Pont. I receive The vengeance which my love, not built on virtue. Has made me M'orthy, worthy of.'' [Dws.

Char. Wii are tauglit By tliis sad j)rece(lcnt, how just soewr

* y/rt,v muik VIC wort/ii/, ■worl/ii/ of.] 'I'lu- old ropy repeals zvorf/ii/.^ which has a i^ooii ofl'ect ; ulicii u c add to tliis, that it also coiiiplclcs the verse, we shall wuiukr at its oiuisbioii by the I'oniH r editor-^.

THE FATAL DOWRY, 453

Our reasons are to remedy our wrongs,

Me are yet to leave them to their will and power

That, to that purpose, have authority.

For you, Romont, although, in your excuse,

You may plead what you did was in revenge

Of the dishonour done unto the court,

Yet, since from us you had not warrant for it,

We banish you the state : for these, they shall.

As they are found guilty or innocent.

Or be set free, or suffer punishment. [Ej^euiit.^

A DIRGE. Seep. 375.

Fie ! cease to zvonder, Though you hear Orpheus xvith his ivory lute,

Move trees and rocks. Charm bulls, bears, and men more savage, to be mute;

iVeak foolish singer, here is one

Would have transfornrd thyself to stone.

A SONG BY AYMER. See p. 381.

A Dialogue betxveen a Man and a Woman.

Man, Set, Phoebu^, set ; a fairer sun doth j^ise

From the bright radiance of my mistress' eyes Than ever thou beorafst : I dare not look ; Each hair a golden line, each word a hook. The more I strive, the more still I am took.

Wom. Fair servant, come ; the day these eyes do lend To zvarm thy blood, thou dost so vainly spend, Come, strangle breath.

Man. JFhat note so sweet as this,

That calls the spirits to a further bliss ?

Wom. Yet this out-savours zvine, and this perfume.

Man. Let's die; I languish, I consume.

5 Dr. Samuel Johnson, in his life of Rowc, pronounces of the Fair Penitent, " that it is one of the most pleasing Tragedies on the stage, where it still keeps its turns of appearing, and probably

454 THE FATAL DOWRY.

will long keep them, for that there is scarcely .iny work of any poet at once so interesting by the fable, and so delighttiil by the language. The story," he observes, "is doniestick, and there- fore easily received by the imagination, and assimilated to com-' nion life; the diction is exquisitely harmonious, and solt or sprightly as occasion requires." Jew peo|)ie, I believe, will think this character of f/ie Fair Patitcnt too lavish on the score of commendation; the high degree of publick favour in which this Tragedy has long stood, has ever atuacted the best audiences to it, and engaged the talents of llie best performers in its display. As there is no drama more frequently exhibited, or more gene- rally read, I jiropose to give it a fair and impartial rxaminalion> jointly with the more unknown and less popular Tragedy liom which it is derived.

The Fair PciiHcnt is in fable and character so closely copied from the Falul Duziry, that it is impossible not to take that Tragedy along with it ; and it is matter of some surprise to me that Uowe should have made no acknowledgment of his imitation, either in his dedication or prologue, or any where else that I am appnsed ot.

Tliis Tragedy of t/ic Fatal Doxirij was the joint jjroduciion of INIassinger and Nathaniel Field ; it takes a wider compass of fable than the Fair Penitent, by which means it presents a very atlecting scene at the opening, which discovers young Charalois, attended by his friend Ronionl, waiting with a petition in his hand to be presented to the judges, when they shall meet, praying the release of his dead father's body, which had been seized by his creditors, and detained in their hands for di-bts he had incurred in the pub- lick service, as lield-marshal of the armies of Burgundy. Mas- singer, to whose share this part of the Tragedy devolved, has managed this pathetick introduction with consummate skill and great ex|jressi(jn of nature; a noble youth in the last state (;t worldly distress, reduced to the humiliating yet pious olllce of so- liciling an unfeeling and unfriendly judge to allow him to pay the solemn rilfs <d' burial to the remains ol an illustrious lather, who had fought his country's battles with glory, and had sacriticed lite and foMuije in ilie delence of an ingratcful state, impresses the spectator's mind with pity and respect, which are felt through esciy passage of the I'lay : one thing in parlieular strikes me at the opening of the scene, which is the long silence that ibe poet has artfully imposed upon his princijjal character (Charalois) who stands in mute soirow with his petition in his hand, wliilsi his frienil llomont, and his advocate Charmi, urge iiim ti) jiresent himsflt to the judges, anil solicit tiiiia in person: the judges now make llnir entiiiiice, ihey slop upon the stage; tlu-v otier him the iiiirol opportunity for tendering his petition and soliciting hi^^

THE FATAL DOWRY. 455

tuit : Charalois remains fixed and speechless ; Romont, who is all eagerness in his cause, presses him again and again : " Now, put on your spirits. — *' Now, sir, lose not this ofl'er'd means: their looks " Fix'd on you with a pitying earnestness, " Invite you to demand their furtherance " To your good purpose." ^he judges point him out to each other; they lament the misfor- tunes of his noble house ; they observe,

" ■ It is young Charalois,

" Son to the marshal, from whom he inherits " His fame and virtues only. ;

" Rom. Ha ! they name you.

" Du Croy. His father died in prison two days since,

*' Koch. Yes, to the shame of this ungrateful state; " That such a master in the art of war, " So noble and so highly meriting " From this forgetful country, should, for want " Of means to satisfy lijs creditors " The sums he took up for the general good, " Meet with an end so infamous.

" Rom. Dare }ou ever " Hope for like opportunity ?"

It is in vain; the opportunity passes off, and Charalois opens not his mouth, nor even silently tenders his petition.

I have, upon a former occasion, both generally and particularly observed upon the effects of dramatick silence : the stage cannot afford a more beautiful and touching instance than this. before us : to say it is not inferiour to the silence of Hamlet upon his first appearance, would be saying too little in its favour. I have no doubt but Massinger had this very case in his thoughts, and I honour him no less for the iniitaling, than I should have done for striking out a silence so naturally and so delicately preserved. What could Charalois have uttered to give him that interest in the hearts of his spectators, which their own conclusions during his affecting silence have already impressed ? No sooner are the judges gone, than the ardent Romont again breaks forth : —

" This obstinate spleen,

" You think, becomes your sorrow, and sorts well " With your black suits." Tliis is Hamlet himself, his iiiki/ cloak, and customary suits of solemn black. The character of Charalois is thus fixed before he speaks ; the poet's art has given the prejudice that is to bear him in our affections through all the succeeding e\ents of the fable; and a striking contrast is established between the undiscerning

A56 THE FATAL DOWRY.

iiei-y zeal of Romont, and Charalois' fine sensibility and high-born dignity of soul.

A more methodical and regular dramatist would liave stopped here, satisfied that the impression already made was fully sulFi- cient for all the purposes of his phjt ; but Massinger, accortluig to the busy spirit of the stage for which he wrote, is not alarmed by a tluong of incident*^, and proceeds to open the court and discus? the pleadings on the stage: the advocate Charmi, in a set ha- rangue, moves the judges for dispensing with the rigour of tlic law in favour of creciitors, and for rescuing the marshal's corpse out of their clutches ; he is, browbeaten and siK'nced by the presiding iudgc old Novall : tlie plea is then taken up by the impetuous komont, and urged with so much personal insolence, that he is arrested on the spot, put in charge of the officers of the court, and taken to prison. This is a very striking mode of introducing the set oration of Charalois: a .son rec(ninting the military achievements of a newly deceased father, and imploring niercv from his creditors and the law tov.ards liis unburied remains, now claims the attention of tlie court, who had been hitherto unmoved by the feeble formality of a hired pleader, and the turbulent |ias- sion of an enraged soldier. Charalois' argument takes a middle course between both; the pious feelings of a son, tempered by tiie modest manners of a gentleman : tlie creditors however arc implacable, the judge is hostile, and the law must take its course : " Cred. It is the citv doctrine; " ^Ve slaiul bouuii U) maintain it.

" C/iaral Be constant in it ; " And since you are as merciless in your natures, " .\s base and mercenary in your means " 15y which you get your wealth, I will not urge " The couit to take away one scruple from " The right of their laws, or [wish] t)ne good thought " In you to mend your disposition with. " I know there is no musick to your ears " .Sn pleasing as the groans of men in prison, " .And that the tears of widows, and the cries " Of famish'd orphans, are the feasts that take you. " That to be in ymv danger, with more care ** Should be avoided than infectious air, " The loathed embraces of diseased women, *' A llatlerer's poison, or the loss of honour. — " Y(.'l rather than my father's reverend dust " Shall want a place in that lair monument, " III which our noble ancestors lie intomb'd, " IW'fore the court I offer up nnself " A [)riboncr for it. Load me with those irons

THE FATAL DOWRY. 457

" That have worn out his life ; in my best strength

" I'll run to the encounter of cold, hunger,

" And choose my dwelling where no sun dares enter,

" So he may be released." There was yet another incident, which the poet's passion for business and spectacle induced him to avail himself of, viz. the funeral of the marshal ; this he displays on the stage, with a train of captains and soldiers following the body of their general: Charalois and llomont, under custody of their gaolers, appear as chief mourners, and a party of creditors are concerned in the groupe.

After this solemnity is dispatched, the poet proceeds to de- velope the amiable generosity of old llochfort, who, being touched \vith the gallant spirit of Romont, and still more penetrated with the filial piety of young Charalois, delivers them both from im- prisonment and distress, by discharging the debts of the marshal, and dismissing the creditors : this also passes before the eyes of the spectators. Before Charalois has given full expression to his gratitude for this extraordinary benefaction, Rochfort follows it with a further act of bounty, which he introduces in the style of a request —

" Call in my daughter. Still I have a suit to you,

" Would you requite me.

" This is my only child." Beaumelle, Rochfori's daughter, is presented to Charalois; the scene is hurried on with a precipitation almost without example: Charalois asks the lady,

*' Fair Beaume\le, can you love me ?

" Beaumd. Yes, my lord.

" Charal You need not question me if I can you : " You are the fairest virgin in Dijon, " And Rochfort is your father."

The match is agreed upon as soon at proposed, and Rochfort hastens away to prepare the ce!el)ration.

In this cluster of incidents 1 must not fail to remark, that the poet introduces young Novall upon the scene, in the very moment when the short dialogue above quoted was passing: this Novall had before been exhibited as a suitor to Beaumelle, and his vain frivolous character had been displayed in a very ridiculous and contemptible light; he is now again mtroduced to be a witness of his own disappointment, and his only observation upon it is — " What's this change ?" — Upon the exit of the father, however, he addresses himself to the lady, and her I'eply gives the alarming hint, that makes discovery of the fatal turn which the plot is now about to take ; for when Novall turning aside to Beaumelle, by

458 THE FATAL DOWRY.

one word — " ^Mistress !" — conveys the reproach of inconstancy, she replies,

" Oh, servant ! — Virtue strengthen me ! " Thy presence bhnvs round mv affection's vane : — " You will undo me, it you speak again." ^Exif.

Young Novall is left on the scene with certain followers and de- pendants, which hang upon his fortune, one of which, (Pontalier by name,) a man under deep gbligations to him, yet of an honest nature, advises him to an honourable renunciation of all further hopes or attempts to avail himself of the atVections of Beaumelle —

" Though vou have >aved my life,

" Rescued me often from my wants, I must not *' Wink at \our follies, that will ruin you. " You know my blunt way, and my love to truth — " Forsake the pursuit of this lady's honour, *' Now you do see her made another man's." This honourable advice is rejected wilh contemi)t: Novall, in wliose mean bosom there does not seem a trace of virtue, avows a determined perseverance; and the poet having in this hasty inanne« completed these inauspicious nuptials, closes the second act of his 1'ragcdy.

We have now expended two entire acts oi f/ic Tafnl Do'xri/, in advancing to that period in the fable, at which the Tragedy of the Fair Penitent opens. If the author of this Tragedy thought it necessary to contract Massinger's plot, and found one upon it ol a more regular construction, I know not how he could do this any otherwise, than by taking up the story at the point where we have now left it, and throwing the antecedent matter into narration ; and though these two prefatory acts are full of very atl'ecting inci- dents, yet the pathos which properly appertains to the plot, and conduces to the catastrophe of the Tragedy, does not in strictness take place before the event of the marriage. No ciilick will say that the pleadings before the judges, the interference of the cre- ditors, the distresses of Charalois, or the funeral of tlu- marshal, arc necessary parts of the drama ; at the same time no reader will deny (and neither could Howe himself overlook) the effect of these inciilents: he could not fail to foresee that he was to sacri- fice very much of the interest of his fable, when he was to thrt)W that upon narration, which his original had given in spectacle ; and the loss was more enhanced by talliiig upon the heio of the drama ; for who that compares Charalois, at the end of the second act of Massinger, with Howe's Altamont at the opening scene of the Fair I'cnitint, can doubt which character has must interest with the spi'ctatcirs ? Wc have Men the former in all the most amiable olhces which fdial piety could perform ; enduring insults from his inveterate oppressors, and voluntarily surrendering biiu»

THE FATAL DOWRY. 459

Self to a prison to raiisome the dead body of his father from un- relenting creditors. Altaniont presents himself before us in his wed(hng suit, in the splendour of fortune, and at the suniniit of happiness ; he greets us with a burst of exultation —

" Let this auspicious day be ever sacred,

" No mourning, no misfortunes happen on it;

" Let it be mark'd for triumphs and rejoicings !

" Let happy lovers ever make it holy,

" Choose it to bless their liopes and crown their wishes;

" '1 his happy day, that gives me my Calista !" The rest of the scene is employed by him and Horatio alternately in recounting the benefits conferral upon them by the generous Sciolto ; and the very same incident of the seizure of his father's corpse by the creditors, and Lis redemption of it, is recited by Horatio : —

*' When his hard creditors,

" Urged and assisted by Lothario's father,

" (Foe to thy house and rival of their greatness,)

" By sentence of the cruel law forbade

" His venerable corpse to rest in earth,

" Thou gavest thyself a ransome for his bones ;

" With piety uncommon didst give up

" 1'hy hopeful youth to slaves, who ne'er knew mercy." It is not however within the reach of this, or any other descripr tion, to place Altaniont in that interesting and amiable light, as circumstances have already placed Charalois ; the happy and exulting bridegroom may be an object of our congratulation, but the virtuous and sufiering Charalois engages our pity, love, and admiration. If Rowe wuuld have his audience credit Altaniont for that filial piety, which marks the character he copied from, it was a small oversight to put the following expression into his mouth —

" Oh, great Sciolto! Oh. my more than father!" A closer attention to character would have reminded him that it was possible fur Allamont to express his gratitude to Sciolto without setting him above a father, to whose memory he had paid such devotion.

From this contraction of his plot, by the defalcation of so many pathetick incidents, it became impossible for the author oithe Fair Penitent to make his Altaniont the hero of his Tragedy, and the leading part is taken from him by Horatio, and even by Lothario, throughout the drama. There are several reasons, which concur to sink Altaniont upon the comparison with Charalois, the chief of which arises from the captivating colours in which Rowe has painted his libertine: on the contrary, jNIassinger gives a contemp- tible picture of his young Novall ; he makes him not only vicious, but ridiculous ; in foppery and impertinence he is the counterpart

li (c

460 THE FATAL DOWRY.

of Shakspcare's Osrick ; vain-glorious, purse-proud, and over- bearing amongst his dependants; a spiritless poltroon in his inter- view with Romont. " Lothario," as Johnson observes, " with gaiety which cannot be hated, and bravery which cannot be de- spised, retains too much of the spcctaloi's kindness." His high spirit, brilliant qualities, and line person are so described, as to put us in danger (»f false irii[)rcsi,ions in his favour, and to set the j)assions in opposition to the moral of the piece: I suspect that the gallantry of Lothario makes more advocates for Calista than she ought to have. There is another consideration, which operates against Altaniont, and it is an indelicacy in his character, which the poet should have provided against: he marries Calista with the full persuasion of her being averse to the match; in his first meeting with Sciolto he says

" Oh ! could I hope there was one thought of Altamont,

" One kind remembrance in Calista's breast —

" I found her cold

" As a dead lover's statue on his tomb ;

" A rising storm of passion shook her breast, Her eyes a piteous shower of tears let tall. And then she sigh'd as if her heart were breaking. With all the tenderest eloquence of love

" I bcgg'd to be a sharer in her grief;

*' But she, with looks averse, and eyes that froze me,

" Siully replied, her sorrows were her own,

" N(jr in a lather's power to dispose of." I am awaie that Sciolto attempts to parry these facts, by an inier- jjretatiun too gross and unbecoming for a father's character, and only fit for the lips of a Lothario; but yet it is not in nature to suppose that Altamont could mistake such symptoms, and it Jixes a meanness upon him, which prevails against his character through- out the play. Nothing of this sort, could be discovered bv Mas- siiiger's biidegrooni, loi the ceremony was agreed upon and per- lormcil at the very lirst interview of the parties ; Ik-aumellc gave a full and unreserved assent, and though her character sutlers on (he score of hxpocrisy on that account, yet C'haralois is saved by it: lesb hypocrisy appears in Calista, but hers is the deeper guilt, be- cause she was already dishonoured by Lotharin, and IJeanmelle's co(|Uflry with Novall had not y<'L reached thi' liiigth of ciinu- nality. Add to this, that Altamont appears in the conlemptiblc light of a suitor, whom Calista had apprised of her aversion, and to whom she had done a deliberate act of dishonour, though his person and character njusl have been long known to her. The case is far olhcrwisi' between Charaloij and Ueaunirlli', who never nut beltire, ami every care is taken by the poet lo save his hero from such a deliberate injury, as mighl convey contempt ; with

THE FATAL DOWRY. 4G1

this view the marriage is precipitated ; nothing is allowed to pass, that might open the character of Charalois to Bcaumelle : she is hiinied into an assignation with Novall immediately upon her marriage ; every artifice of seduction is employed by her confi- dante Bellapert, and Aymer, the parasite of Noyall, to make the meeting criminal ; she falls the victim of passion, and when detec- tion brings her to a sense of her guilt, she makes this penitent and

pathetick appeal to Charalois ^

" Oh my fate !

*' That never would consent that I should see " How worthy you were both of love and duty, ♦ *' Before I lost you ; and my misery made

" The glass in which I now behold your virtue ! " With justice therefore you may cut me off, " And from your memory wash the remembrance " That e'er I was ; like to some vicious purpose, " Which, in your better judgment, you repent of,

" And study to forget

" Yet you shall find,

" Though I was bold enough to be a strumpet, " I dare not yet live one. Let those famed matrons, " That are canonized worthy of our sex, " Transcend mc in their sanctity of life; " I yet will equal them in dying nobly, " Ambitious of no honour after life, " But that, when I am dead, you will forgive me." Compare this with the conduct of Calista, and then decide which trail fair one has the better ritle to the appellation of a penitenty and which drama conveys the better moral by its catastrophe.

There is indeed a grossness in the older poet, which his more , modern imitator has refined ; but he has only sweetened the poi- son, not remo\ed its venom ; nay, by how much more palatable he has made it, so much more pernicious it is. become in his tempting, sparkling cup, than in the coarse deterring dose of Massinger.

llowe has no doubt greatly outstepped his original in the striking character of Lothario, who leaves Novall as far b;^hind him as Charalois does Altamont : it is admitted then that Calista has as good a plea as any wanton could wish, to urge for her cnininalit}'" with Lothario, and the poet has not spared the ear of modesty in his exaggerated description of the guilty scene ; every luxurious imaire, that his intiamed imaainaiion could crowd into the "lovvincf rhapsody is there to be found, and the whole is recited in numbers so llowing and harmonious, that they not only arrest the passions but the memory also, and perhaps have been, and btill can be, as generally repeated as any passage in English poetry. iMussinger,

46^2 THE FATAL DOWRY.

with less elegance, but not with less icf!;ard to decency, suffers the guilty act to pass within the course of his drama ; the ii;reater re- rinenieiit of manners in Howe's day did not allow of this, and he anticipated the incident ; but when he revived the recollection of it by such a studied description, he plainly shewed that it was not from moral principle that he omitted it; and if he has presented his heroine to the spectators with more immediate delicacy durini; the compass of the play, he has at the same time given her i^reater depravity of mind ; her manners may be more refined, but her principle is fouler than lieaumelle's. Calista, who yielded to the gallant, gay Lothario, " hot with the Tuscan grape," might perhaps have disdained a lover who addressed her in the holiday language which Novall uses to Beaumelle :

" Best day to nature's curiosity,

" Star of Dijon, the lustre of all France !

" Perpetual spring dwell on thv rosy cheeks,

" \Vhose breath is perfume to our continent !

" See ! Flora trimm'd in her varieties.

" No autumn nor no age ever approach " This heavenly piece, which nature having wrought, ** Siie lost her needle, and did then despair " Ever to work so lively and so fair!" The letter of Calista (which brings about the discovery bv the poor expedient of Lothario's dropping it and Horatio's finding it) has not even the merit of being characteristically wicked, and is both in its matter and mode below tragedy. It is, Lothario's cruelti/ has determined her to i/ield a perfect obedience to her father, and giie hir hand to Altaniont, in spite of her weakness for the false Lothario. — If the lady had given her perfect obedience its true denomi- Jiation, she had called it a most ilishonour.ible compliance; and, if we may take Lothario's word, (who seems full correct enough in describing facts and particulars,) she had not much cause to com- plain of his biing false ; for he tells Rossano : '* I liked her, would have married her, " But that it pleased her father to refuse me, " To make this honourable fool her husband." It ajipears bv this, that Lothario had not been false to her in the article of marriage, though he might have been cruel to her on the score of passion, which indeed is confessed on his part with as much Ci/ld indifference, as the most barefaced avowal couUl express. — liiii to return to the letter: She proci-eds to tell him — that she could almost Xiish she had that heart, and that honour In bestoxe with it, uhieh he has robbed her of — But le.st ibis half wish should startle him, shi' adds — Hut 'j'i ! 1 fear, luuld I retrieve thtm, I should again be undnne bi/ the too faithless, yet too loveli/ Lothario. — This must be owned as full u rcasou us she could give, why she should only

I

THE FATAL DOWRY. 463

■iihuosi 'xish for hor lost lidiiour, when she would make such an use of it, if she luul it ag;iin ;it her disposal. And yet the very next paragraph throws every thing into contradiction, for she tells him — this is the last xveakncss of her pen, and to jnovrow shall he the last in which she v:iU indulge her ci/es. If she could keep to that resolution, I must think the recovery of her innocence would ha\e been worth a whole wish, and many a wish ; unless we are to sup- pose she was so devoted to izuilt, that she could take delight iii rcllecting upon it : this is a state oi depravity, which human na- ture hardly ever attains, and seems peculiar to Calista. She now grows very humble, and concludes in a style well suited to her humility — Lucilla shall conduct ijou, if you are kind enough to let

me sec you ; it shall be the last trouble you shall meet ivithJro7n

The lost Calista. It was very ill done of Horatio's curiosity to read this letter, and I must ever regret that he has so unhandsomely exposed a lady's private correspondence to the world.

Though the part which Horatio takes in the business of the drama is exactly that which fails to the share of Romont in the Fatal Doxvry, yet their characters are of a very different cast ; for, as Rowe had bestowed the fire and impetuosity of Romont upon his Lothario, it was a very judicious opposition to contrast it with the cool deliberate courage of the sententious Horatio, the friend and brother-in-law of Altamont.

When Horatio has read Calista's letter, which Lothario had dropped, (an accident which more frequently happens to gentlemen in comedies than in tragedies,) he falls into a very long meditation, and closes it with putting this question to himself: " What if I give this paper to her father ? " It follows that his justice dooms her dead, " And breaks his heart with sorrow ; hard return " For all the good his hand has heap'd on us !

" Hold, let me take a moment's thought "

At this moment he is interrupted in his reflections by the presence of Lavinia, whose tender solicitude fills up the remaining part of the dialogue, and concludes the act without any decisive resolu- tion on the part of Horatio ; an incident well contrived, and in- troduced with much dramatick skill and effect ; though pressed by his wife to disclose the cause of his uneasiness, he does not impart to her the fatal discovery he has made ; this also is well in cha- racter. Upon his next entrance he has withdrawn himself from the company, and being alone resumes his meditation : " What, if, while all are here intent on revelling, " I privately went forth and sought Lothario ? ** This letter may be forged ; perhaps the wantonness " Of his vain youth to stain a lady's fame ^

■^6^ THK FATAL DOWRY.

*' Perhaps his malice to disturb my friend. " Oh ! uo, my heart forebodes it must be true, " IMethoui;ht e'en now I mark'd the starts of guilt " That shook her soul, though damn'd dissimulation " Screen'd her dark thoughts, and set to pul)lick view " A specious face of innocence and lieauty," This soliloquy is succeeded by the much-admired and striking scene between him ami Lothario; riuid criticism miiiht wish to abridge some of the sententious declamatory speeches of Horatio, and shorten the dialogue to quicken the effect; but the moral sentiment and harmonious versification are much too charming to be treated as intruders, and the author has also struck upon a natural expeilient for prolonging the dialogue, without any violence to probability, by the interposition of Rossano, who acts as a me- diator between the hostile parties. This interposition is further ne- cessary to pre\ent a decisive rencounter, for which the fable is not ripe; neither would it be proper for Horatio to anticipate the revenge, which is reserved for Altamont : The altercation therefore closes with a challenge from Lothario :

" We^t of the town a mile, amongst the rocks, " Two hours ere noon to morrow I expect thee ; " Thy single hand to mine." The place of meeting is not well ascertained, and the time is too long deferred tor strict probability ; there are, however, certain things in all dramas, which must not be too rigidly insisted upon, and provided no extraoidinary violence is done to reason and common sense, the candid critick ought to let them pass: this I take to be a case in point ; and though Horatio's cool courage and ready presence of mind, are not just the qualities to reconcile us to such an oversight, \et I see no reason to be severe ujjon the incident, which is folhnved by his immediate recollection: " Two hours ere noon to morrow ! Hah ! Ere that *' He sees Calista. — Oh ! unthinking fool ! " What if I urged her with the crime and ilanger ? " If any spark from heaven remain untiuench'd " Within her breast, my breath perhaps may wake it. " Could I hut prosper llu re, 1 would not doubt " My combat with that loud vain-gloiious b( aster." Whether this be a measure altogether in character with a man of Horatio's good sense and discretion, I mu^t own is matter of doubt with me. I think he appears fully satisfied of her actual ciimi- iiality ; and in that case it would be more natural for him to lay his measures for intercepting Lothario, and preventing the assigna- tion, than to liy his rhetoiick in the present crisis upon llu- agitated mind of Calista. As it has justly occurred to him, that he lias feen o\cr-reached by Lothario in the postponement of the duel,

THE FATAL DOWRY. 465

the measure I suggest would naturally tend to hasten that rencoun- tei'. Now, though the business of the drama may require an ex- phuiation between Horatio and Calista, whereupon to ground an occasion for his interesting quarrel with Altamont; yet I do not see any necessity to make that a premeditated explanation, nor to sacrifice character, by a measure that is inconsistent with the better judgment of Horatio. The poet, however, has decreed it otherwise, and a deliberate interview with Calista and Horatio accordingly takes place. This, although introduced with a solemn invocation «n his part, is very clumsily conducted :

" Teach me, some Power ! that happy art of speech " To dress my purpose up in gracious words, " Such as may softly steal upon her soul, " And never waken the tempestuous passions." Who can expect, after this preparation, to hear Horatio thus break his secret to Calista ?

" Lothario and Calista! — Thus they join " Two names, which heaven decreed should never meet, " Hence have the talkers of this populous city " A shameful tale to tell for publick sport, " Of an unhappy beauty, a false fair one, " Who plighted to a noble youth her faith, '• When she had given her honour to a wretch." This I hold to be totally out of nature ; first, because it is a pal- pable departure from his resolution to use "gracious words;" next, because it has a certain tendency to produce rage and not repentance ; and thirdly, because it is founded in exaggeration and falsehood ; for how is he warranted to say that the story is the publick talk and sport of the city ? If it were so, what can his interference avail ? why seek this interview ?

" Why come to tell her how she might be happy ? *' To sooth the secret anguish of her soul ? " To comfort that fair mourner, that forlorn one, " And teach her steps to know the paths of peace ?" No judge of nature will think he takes the means to lead her into the " paths of peace," by hurrying her to the very brink of despe- ration. I need not enlarge upon this observation, and shall there- fore only remark, that the scene breaks up, as might be expected, with the following proof of her penitence, and his success in per- suasion :

" Henceforth, thou officious fool, " Meddle no more, nor dare, even on thy life, " To breathe an accent that may touch my virtue : " I am myself the guardian of my honour, " And will not bear so insolent a monitor." Let us now enquire how Romont (the Horatio of Massingcr) VOL. iir. H h

466 THE FATAL DOWRY.

conducts this incident, a character from whom less discretion is lo be expected than tVoni his ptiilosophical successor. Romont himself discovers Beaumelle and Novall engaged in the most wan- ton familiaiities, and with a warmth suitable to his zeal, breaks up the amorous conference by driving Novall oft" the scene with inef- fable contempt: he then applies himself to the lady, and with a very natural and manly spirit says,

" I respect you,

" Not for yourself, but in remembrance of " Who is your father, and whose wife you now are." She replies to him with contempt and ridicule; he resumes the same charactcristick strain he set out with, and proceeds :

" My intents,

" Madam, deserve not this; nor do I stay

*' To be the whetstone of your wit: preserve it

" To spend on such as know how to admire

" Such colour'd stuif. In me, there now speaks to you

" As true a friend and servant to your honour,

" And one that will with as much hazard guard it,

" As ever man did goodness : but then, lady,

" You must endeavour, not alone to be, " But to APi'KAU, worthy such love and service." We have just now heard Horatio reproach Calista with the re- ports that were circulated against her reputation; let us compare it with what Romont s;iys upon the same subject:

" • But }ct be careful:

" Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not " To wound the fame of princes, if it find " But any blemish in their lives to work on. " But I'll be plainer with you: had the people *' Been learn'd to speak but what even now 1 saw, " Their malice out of that would raise an engine " Tu overthrow your honour. In my sight, " With yonder painted fool 1 frighted from you, " You used familiarity beyond *• A modest eiitertainnier.t: you embraced him " Witli too nuich ardour for a stranger, and " Met him with kisses neither chaste nor comely. " But learn you to forget him, as I will " \ our bijuiitics to him; you will liiul it safer " Rather to be unconrlly than immodest." What avails it to attempt drawing a comparison between this con- duct and that of Horatio's, where no comparison is to be made? I leave it lo the reader, and decline a tusk at once so unnecessary and unnratelul.

W hen Romont finds no impression is lo be made upon Beau-

THE FATAL DO^yRY. 467

melle, he meefs her father, and immediately falls into the same reflection that Horatio had struck upon:

" — Her father?— ha!

" H'ow if I break this to him ? sure it cannot " Meet with an ill construction : his wisdom, " Made powerful by the authority of a father, " Will warrant and yive privilege to his counsels. " It .shall be so.— Il this step needs excuse, the reader will consider that it is a step of prevention. The experiment however fails, and he is rebuffed with some asperity by Rochfort; this draws on a scene between him and Charalois, which, as it is too long to transcribe, so it is throughout too excellent to extract any part from it. I can only express my surprise, that the author uf t/ic Fair Penitent, with this scene before hiiii, could conduct his interview between Altamont and Horatio upon a plan so widely different, and so much inferiour: I must suppose he thought it a strong incident to make Altamont give a blow to his friend, else he might have seen an interview carried on with infinit'dy more spirit, both of language and cha- racter, between Charalois and Romont, in circumstances exactly similar, where no such violence was committed, or even meditated. Was it because Pierre had given a blow to Jaffier, that Altamont was to repeat the like indignity to Horatio, for a woman, of whose aversion he had proofs not to be mistaken ? Cbaralois is a character at least as high and irritable as Altamont, and Romont is out of all comparison more rough and plain-spoken than Horatio: Cha- ralois might be deceived into an opinion of Beaumelle's affection for him; Altamont coidd not deceive himself into such a notion, and the lady had testified her dislike of him in the strongest terms, accompanied with symptoms which he himself had described as indicating some rooted and concealed affliction: could any solu- tion be more natural than what Horatio gives? Novall was a rival so contemptible, that Charalois could not, with any degree of probabiHty, consider him as an object of his jealousy ; it would have been a degradation of his character, had he yielded to such a suspicion: Lothario, on the contrary, was of all men living the most to be apprehended by a husband, let his confidence or vanity be ever so great. Rowe, in his attempt to surprise, has sacrificed nature and the truth of character for stage-effect; Massinger, by preserving both nature and character, has conducted his^friends through an angry altercation with mfinitely more spirit, more pathos, and more dramatic effect, and yet dismissed them with the fol- lowing animated and affecting speech from Charalois to hisfiiend:

" Thou art not my friend,

" Or being so, thou art mad: I must not buy " Thy friendship at this rate. Had I just cause,

Hh 2

45s THE FATAL DOWRY.

" Thou know'bt I durst pursue such injury " Through fire, air, water, earth, nay, were they all " Shuffled again to chaos; but there's none. " Thy skill, llomont, consists in camps, not courts. " Farewell, uncivil man! let's meet no more : " Here our long web of I'liondship I untwist. '• Shall I go whine, walk pale, and lock my wile, *' For nothing, from her birth's free liberty, " That open'd mine to me? yes; if I do, " The name of cuckold tlien dog me with scorn ! " I am a Frenchman, no Italian born." [Exit.

It is plain that Altamont at least was an exception to this remark upon Italian husbands. I shall pursue this comparison no fur- ther, nor oiler any other remark upon the incident of the blow given by Altamont, except with regard to Horatio's conduct upon receiving it; he draws his sword, and immediately suspends re- sentment upon the following motive:

*' Yet hold! By heav'n, his father's in his face! " bpite of my wrongs, my heart runs o'er with tenderness, " And I could rather die myself than hurt him." We must suppose it was the martial attitude that Altamont had put himself into, which brought the resemblance of his father so strongly to the observation of Horatio, otherwise it was a very un- natural moment to recollect it in, when he had just received the deepest insult one man can give to another: it is however worth a remark, that this father of Altamont should act on both sides, and yet mi-'Carry in his mediation ; for it is but a lew passages before that Altamont says to Horatio:

" Thou wen my father's friend; he lov'd thee well ; " A viuuMable mark of him

" Hangs lumul thee, and prt)tects thee from my vengeance, " I cannot, dare not lit'l my sword against thee." AVhat this mark was is letl to conjecture; but it is plain it was as bcasonable for Hor;itio's re>cueal this moment, as it was for .Alla- mont a few nu)meiits alter, who had crrtainly overlooked it when he struck the very friend against whom he could not, dared not lift his .suurd.

When Laviiiia's entrance has parted Altamont and Horatio, her hui-band complains to her of the ingratilutle with which he has been tr(ate<l, and luys :

" lie, who ua-< all to me, child, brother, friend, " Willi barbarcius bloody malice soiight my lite." These are very e.xtraordinary terms for a man like Horatio to UH', and seem to convey a charge very unfit for him to make, anil of a \ery dilVerent nature hoiu the hasty insult he had received;

THE FATAL DO\yRY. 469

ill fact it appears as if the blow had totally reversed his character, for the resolution he takes in consequence of this personal artVont, is just such an one as would be only taken by the man who dared not to l•e^ent it:

" From Genoa, from falsehood and inconstancy, " To some more honest distant clime we'll go; " Nor will I be beholden to my country " For auoht but thee, the partner of mv flight." That Horatio's heroism did not consist in the ready forgiveness of injuries, is evident from the obstinate sullenness with which he rejects the penitent apologies of Altamont in the further progress ot the play; I am at a loss therefore to know what colour the poet meant to give his character, by disposing him to quit his country with this insult unatoned for, and the additional stigma upon him of running away from his appointment with Lothario for the next morning "amongst the rocks." Had he meant to bring him off upon the repugnance he felt of resenting any injury against the son of a father, whose image was so visible " in his face," that his " heart ran o'er with fondness in spite of his wrongs, and he could rather die than hurt him ;" surely that image would have inter- ceded no less powerfully for him, when, penetrated with remorse, he intercedes for pity and forgiveness, and even faints at his feet with agony at his unrelenting obduracy; It would be unfair to suppose he was more like his father when he had dealt him an in- sulting blow, than when he was atoning for an injury by the most ample satisfaction and submission.

This is the light in which the conduct of Horatio strikes me; if I am wrong, I owe an atonement to the manes fif an elegant poet, which upon conviction 'of my errour, I will study to pay in the fullest manner I am able.

It now remains only to say a few words upon the catastrophe, in which the author varies from his original, by making Calista destroy herself with a dagger, put into her hand for that purpose by her father: If I am to moralize upon this proceeding of Sciolto, I know full well the incident cannot bear up against it ; a Roman father would stand the discussion better than a Christian one; and I also know that the most natural expedient is unluckily a most undramatick one; yet the poet did not totally overlook it, for he makes Sciolto's first thought turn upon a convent, if I rightly un- derstand the following passage:

" Hence from my sight! thy father cannot bear thee:

" Fly with thy infamy to some dark cell,

*' Where, on the confines of eternal night,

" Mourning, misfortunes, cares, and anguish dwell ;

" Where ugly shame hides her opprobrious head,

*' And death and hell detested rule maintain;

470 THE FATAL DOWRY.

" There howl out the remainder of thy life, *' And wish thy name may be no more rcmembcr'd." Whilst I am tran^^cribiiig these lines a doubt strikes me that I have misititiTpn'ted them, and yet Cali^ta's answer seems to point to the meiuing 1 had suggested; perhaps however they are mere ravings in fine numbers without any determinate idea: whatever they may be, it is clear they do not go to the length of death: he tells Altamont, as soon as she is departed :

'* I wo' not kill her ;

" Yet by the ruin she has brought upon us, " 1 he common infamy that brands us both, " She sha' not 'scape." He seems in this moment to have formed the resolution, which he afterwards puts upon execution; he prompts her to self-murder, and arms her for the act : this may save the spectators a sight too shocking to behold, but does it convey less horrour to the heart, than if he had put her to death with his own hand? a father killing his child for incontinence with the man whom he had not permitted to marry her, when he solicited his consent, is an act too monstrous to reflect upon: is that father less a monster, who, deliberately and after full reflection, puts a dagger into her hand and bids her commit seit"-murder ? 1 should humbly conceive the latter act a degree in guilt beyond the former; especially when I hear that father coolly demanding of his victim, if she has re- flected upon what may happen after death:

" IJast thou consider'd what may happen after it?

" How thy acc(»unt may stand, and what to answer?" A parent surely would turn that question upon his own heart, belore he precipitated his unpiejiared chiKl to so awlid and un- certain an account: raji" and instani revenue niav find some plea; sudden passion may transport even a f.iiher to lift his hand against his own oftspring; but this act of Sciolto has no shelter but in hea- then authority:

" 'Tis justly thought, and worthy of that spirit,

" Thatilwelt in inu lent Lutian breasts, when Rome

*' W'a-i mistre'^s of tl)C world." Did ever poetry beguile a man into such an allusion ? and to what does that piece of information lend " that Rome was nii-.tress of the world r" If this is human nature, it would almost lempt one to reply in bciolto's own words :

" 1 cou'd curse nature." But it is no more like nature, than the following; sontiiuenis of Calista are like the sentiments of a penitent, or a Clirisiiai\:

" That I must die it is my only comfoit.

" Death is the privilei;e of human nature,

*' And life without it were not worth our faking—"

THE FATAL DOWRY. 471

And again,

" Yet heav'n, who knows our weak imperfect natures, " How blind with passions, and how prone to evil, " Makes not too strict enquiry for offences, *' But is aton'd by penitence and prayer. " Cheap recompense! here 'twould not be receiv'd ; " Nothing but blood can make tTie expiation. Such is the catastrophe of Rowe's Fair Penitent, such is the re- presentation he gives us of human nature, and such the moral of his tragedy.

I shall conclude with an extract or two from the catastrophe of the Fatal Dowry : and first for the penitence of Beaumelle, I shall select only the following speech addressed to her husband :

" I dare not move you

" To hear me speak. I know my fault is far " Beyond qualification or excuse ; " That 'tis not fit for me to hope, or you " To think of inercy; only I presume " To entreat you would be pleased to look upon " My sorrow for it, and believe these tears " Are the true children of my grief, and not " A woman's cunning." I need not point out the contrast between this and the quotations from Calista. It will require a longer extract to bring the coiuluct of Rochfort into comparison with that of Sciolto: the reader will observe that Novall's dead body is now on the scene, Charalois, Beaumelle, and Rochfort her father, are present. The charge of adultery is urged by Charalois, and appeal is made to the justice of R.ochfort in the case :

" Rock. "SVhat answer makes the prisoner ? " Beauiiiel. I confess '* The fact I am charged with, and yield myself " Most miserably guilty.

" Koch. Heaven Jake mercy <' Upon your soul, then! it must leave your body. — " — Since that the politick law provides that servantSj " To whose care we commit our goods, shall die '' If they abuse our trust, what can you look for, '' To whbse charge this most hopeful lord gave up *• All he received from his brave ancestors, '^ Or he could leave to his posterity, *' His honour, wicked woman! in whose safety " All his life's joys and comforts were lock'd up,

" Which thy lust, a thief, hath now stolen from him ;

" And therefore

" Charul. Stay, just judge ; — may not what's lost " By her one fault (for I am charitable,

472 THE FATAL DOWRY.

" And charge her not with many) be forgotten " In her fair lite hereafter?

" RocL Never, sir. " The wrong that's done to the chaste married bed '• Repentant tears can never expiate; " And be assured, to pardon such a sin " Is an offence as great as to commit it." In ccnsequence of this the husband strikes her dead before her father's eyes: the act indeed is horrid; even Tragedy shrinks from it, and nature with a father's voice instantly cries out — " Is she dead then? — and you have kiU'd her?" — Charalois avows it, and pleads his sentence for the deed; the revolting agonized parent breaks forth into one of the most pathotick, natural, and expressive lamentations, that the Eni^lish drama can produce :

But 1 pronounced it

" As a judge only, aJid a friend to justice; " And, zealous in defence of your wrong'd honour, •' Broke all the ties of nature, and cast off " The love and soft afl'ection of a father. " I, in your cause, put on a scarlet robe " Of red-died cruelty ; but, in return, *' You have advanced for me no flag of mercy. " I look'd on you as a wrong'd husband ; but " You closed your eyes against me as a talher. " O Beaumelle ! my daughter! " C/iaral. This is madness.

♦' Iloc/i. Keep from me! — Could not one good thoughi rise up, *< To tell you that she was my age's comfort, " Begot by a weak man, and bom a woman, '• And could not, therefore, but partake of frailty ? " Or wherefore did not thankfulness step forth " To urge my many merits, which I may *' Object unto vnu, since you prove ungrateful, " Flint-hearted Charalois! —

" C/iaral. Nature does prevail " Above your virtue." ^^ hat conclusions can I draw from these comparative examples, wliitli every reader would not anticipate? Is there a man, wlio has any feeling for real nature, dramatick character, moral sentunent, tr;igick pathos, or nervous diction, who can hesitate, even for a moment, where to bestow the palm? Cu.mkkulanu. OlmnTcr, ^^os. LXXVII. LXXVIII. LXXIX.

This fine Tragedy has o])(ained more attention flraii usual from the (ritifks; yet less lias been said of its direct, than its relative merits 3 and (he Fatal DnxLiy has been chiefly studied

THE FATAL DOWRY. 473

for the sake of a comparison with the Fair Penitent. I do not know if some injury has not been done to it by this mode of treatment. Under the iniluence of a double enquiry, some circumstances have been passed by with little or no notice; and others, perhaps, have been unduly magnified. The question has been, not what was written by Massinger, but what was imitated by Rowe. While both the dramas have been thus considered together, the scope of one of them has not been exactly defined; and what was gained by a complication of design, was lost to simplicity of judgment. Indeed, no great benefit of either kind can be derived from the brief and desultory views of Mr. M. Mason and Mr. Davies : but the reader will receive both plea- sure and instruction from the comparison of Mr. Cumberland.

Not to have a strong and intimate feeling of the Fatal Dozviy^ is to be hardened against the most aliecting representation of virtue goaded by injuries to an unlawful revenge. The story is strongly and circumstantially unfolded, and fixes our attention to its progress by the impression, which it generally wears, of common life. The language too, is, w ith some exceptions, which will be presently noticed, the language of nature and of business. The characters are drawn with a profusion of force and variety. Charalois is placed twice before the seat of justice: and Mas- singer has had the address to preserve an extraordinary interest for him, whether he appears as a suppliant or a criminal. He unites many rare and apparently opposite qualities. His seve- rity and reserve are happily reconciled with the tenderness of his filial piety, his intrepidity with his gentleness of temper, his inflexible firmness with his melting compassion. He is marked with the gracefulness as well as the force of virtue : nor can the rash act of Avhich he is guilty compel the reader to abandon him, though it shocks our feelings. His provocations secure our pity ; his dying acknowledgments tend to restore our esteem; and, in his own words, there is

" no eye, but is ready with a tear

" To witness 'tis shed for him "

Romont is well contrasted with him ; he is marked with all the yehemence of honesty ; irritation is the characteristick atten- dant of his fidelity ; he lones his own temper in the noble zeal of preserving the innocence of ulliers : and he draws his sword upon his best friend, that he may cumpel him to give more attention to his security. Funtalier a<iain is a variety of Romont, though of an inferiour cast. He carries his friendship to crime, and murders Charalois to shew his gratitude to Novall. There is a secret link which binds these characters together. They wish to be virtuous; bu<, by too much indulgence of passion concerning it. {\\v\ fall into impruileiic<' or guilt. On

474 THE FATAL DOWRY.

the other liand, the fixed quality of Rochfort is the adniiratiun of virtue. On this is founded the condemnation of B.'aumelle, j^s well as his generoaity to Charalois. Indeed at her fall he melts into sudden tenderness towards her: and nothing can be more finely natural than his grief and his reproaches of the man %<honi he loves. But after this burst of feeliiic;. he returns to his settled ])rinciple; and the rasli but much injured Charalois is still the object of his regard.

Old Xovall might be designed oi\ly as an enemy to the cause of Charalois, and as a contrast to lloclifort. But the reproba- tion of him is so frequently indulged, and with such vehemence and accumulation of circumstances, as to raise a suspicion that a portrait was intended. Jlis hard and insulting disposition, his savage abuse, and his readiness to " cross eveiy deserving sol- dier and scholar," seem to allude to Sir Edward Coke, and to the base and unfeeline; treatment of Sir Walter Raleigh. But it is impossible to notice all the observable parts of this admirable Tragedy. I will proceed to the moral, after the discussion of a point or two with Mr. M. Mason. In a very summary manner he has pronounced (hat fiie second, th^rd, and part of the fourth act, were not written by Massinger.

There is an apparent change of writing in the second act; and Charalois himself, though some of his thoughts aUd expres- sions are excellent, spoils his grief with too much fondness for antitheses, and metaphors coldly and formally drawn out. He becomes a quibbler too as he proceeds, anil does not express, with his usual frankness, eillier his gratitude or his love. Tiie busincts is also undulv hurried on : (though Masbinger himself ii» strongly marked with this precipitation,) and the musick which la^tely played at the funeral of the marshal, is too quickly called upoii to celebrate the marriage of (charalois. But in the third act Massinger seems to me to return. The proof of this shall not rest upon the general s(\ le of it, for (hat would not so effectually determine the question, but upon the similarity of thou;;li(s and expressions scattered throughout his otiier plays. \n the v(;ry first scene, Bellapert uses a significant image Mhich Antoninus has employed in f/tc rirgi/i Maifj/r. Romont after- wards observes, that it is as eas\ to •■* proj) a tailing tower," as to " stay a woman" who has «)nce given herself to vieiousuess: and this thought, with the very expression of it, lia> been used by Matliias in ///e I'/r/i/rr. Charalois inters that the lion is not to be insulted because he does not ha|>pen to be angry : and 'I'heodcjsius lias lately <lwelt with some enlargement on (his very instance. Romont hopes that his discovery of Beaumelle's infidelity will not '"' meet with an ill construction," and uses pcrhajis the most coinniun phrase of Massinger. He remarks

THE FATAL DOWRY. 475

loo that women have " no ciinninj^; to gull the world ;" — a me- thod of aflirmalion frequent with Massinger, Shall 1 add more proof? Rochtort sa} s to Beaunielle, " I have that coiilidence in your goodness, 1"— a reduplication which cannot be missed by any reader of these plays. Yet the language of Rochfort himself is adduced by Mr. M. Mason, to prove that this act was not written by Massinger. Rochfort utters scarcely mo:e than twenty lines in the whole act; and from that small portion the above is one instance to the contrary of the assertion. It would be superfluous to say more, though similar incidents might also be produced. I shall only diaw the p.opei- conclnsioii : if this Play was written at the early time supposed by Air. Malone, Massinger must either have made it a storehouse from w hich to draw incidents and images for his future plays, a supposition not very probable, or he must have consented to adopt for over the thoughts of Field in preference to his own: a supposi- tion still less probable. Again, — if it was written in tlie order in which it is now printed. Field would hardly hnv^ been allowed to plunder him of his most familiar thoughts by way of assisting him. In either case the third act must be given to Massinger. Field is welcome to the fust scene of the fourth act, if that is the part claimed for him by Mr. M. Mason.

1 pass, Mith pleasure, from this uninteresting eriquiry to a great moral, which, after all the discussion bestowed upon this Ploy, is as yet fresh and untouched.

Charalois slew an offending wife, and the partner of her crime, with his own hand, and was himself slain. Vengeance belongs to heaven : and by the divine Avill, the administration of it for moral purposes is vested in the laws. To avenge our own cause is to despise the seat of justice, and the order of pro- vidence ; and to involve ourselves in guilt and the punislmient of it. Virtue must employ only virtuous means in the coercion of vice itself. Her injuries will therefore wait upon the laws ; for in the very forms of justice there is virtue. Db. Ikeland.

476 THE FATAL DOWRY.

By an oversight, for which it is scarcely worth accounting, the following despicable rhynu-s were omitted after those which are given at the cunclusion of this Play. They are supposed to be sung p, 424. By a fatality in blundering which seems to attend Air. M. Mason and his coadjutor, Uavies, they arc referred to ''• the end of the second act" I though one of them is expressly quoted by A} mer, as what he was about to sing, Act IV. sc. ii.

Citizens' Song of tlie Courtier.

Courtier, if thou needs wilt wive, From this lesson learn to thrive; Jf thou match a ladij^ that passes thee in birth and

state, Let her curious garments be Tzvice above thine own degree; This ivill draw great eyes upon Iter, Get her servants, and thee honour.

Courtier's Song of the Citizens.

Poor citizen^ f thou will be

yt luippij husband, learn of me

To set thy wife first in thy shop ;

A fair wife, a kindwfe, a sweet icife, sets a poor Juan

up. JVhat though tJiy shelves be ne'er so bare, yl wouutn still is current ware; Each man xcill cheapen, foe and friend ; /)///, xrhilst thou art at t'other end, H hat e'er thou scest, or 'what dost hear, Fool, have 7io eye lo, nor an ear ; And after supper, for her sake, When thou hast fed, siiort, though thou wake : 11 hat though the galli/nts call thee Momc ! )\twith thy huitern light her home; Then loo/i into the town, and tell JJ no such tradesmen there do xcell.

NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS

' /

1

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS

Saturday Evening

A Comedy by Philip Massinger

Arranged in a Prologue and Two Acts

Lord Lovell , William Sauter

^>los Overreach ;»+» Walter TTn»>- "

A Neav "Way to pay Old Di^bts.] This " Comedy" does not appi'ar in Sir Henry Hmbert's book ; it inust, honcvor, have boi'n produced on tlio stage before 1633,* in which year it was printed for Henry Seylc. The author of t/ie Cumpanioii to t/if PlaiiliQusc terms it " one of the best of the old comedies, and, in his opinion, the very best of Massinger's writing." It is, indeed, a most admirable piece; but while the City MachiDi, and two or three others of this Avriter's comedies remain, it will not, I think, be ur/iversally placed at the head of the list.

This play is preceded by two short commendatory poems, by Sir Thomas Jay, and Sir Henry Moody ; the former of which must have been peculiarly gratifying to Massinger, as Sir Thomas was no flatterer.

77/>' iVt'u' /Fey fo pai/ Old Debts was extremely well received on its first appearance, and, as the quarto informs us, '• often actjd at the Plia'iiix in Drurie T^ane." It has been revived at dirt'erent periods with considerable success, and stili liolds a dis- tinguished place on the stage.

* There are several allusions to a state of war in it ; and peace had been mai!« wiili riancc and Spain in loasj.

TO

The Right Honoui-ahk,

ROBERT EARL OF CARNARVON,

MASTEPw-FALCONER OF ENGLAND.

MY GOOD LORD,

xj^RDON, I beseech you, mij boldness, in presuming to shelter this Comedy under the zoinjrs of your lordship'sfavour and protection. 1 am not ignorant (having never yet de- served you in my service) that it cannot but jneet zcith a severe construction, if , in the clemency of your noble disposition, you fashion not a better defence for me, than I can fancy for myself. All I can allege is, that divers Italian princes, and lords of eminent rank in England, have not disdained to re- ceive and read poems of this nature ; nor ant Iwhollij lost in my hopes, but that i/our honour (zcho have ever expressed yourself a favourer, andfrieiid to the Muses) may vouchsafe, in your gracious acceptance of this trijle, to give m.e en- couragement to present you zcith some laboured work, and of a higher strain, hereafter. I zeas born a devoted servant to the thrice noble familij 'of your incomparable lady,* and am most ambitious, but with a becoming distance, to be knozan to your lordship, zvhich, if you please to admit, I shall em- brace it as a bounty, that while I live shall oblige me to ac- knozidedge you for my noble patron, andprof ess myself to be,

your honour's true servant,

PHILIP MJSSINGER.

* Anna Sophia, daughter of Philip Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, and wife of Robert Dormer Earl of Carnarvon, who was slain at Newbury, fighting for his king, 20th Scpteai- ber, 1643. Malone.

DRAMATIS PEUSON.'E.

Lord Lovcll.

Sir (iilcs Overreach, a cruel extortioner.

Frank Wellborn, a prodigal.

Tom Allworth, a yoiu/g gtnllemaii, page to lord

Lovcll. Greedy, a hangrij justice of peace. Marrall, a term-driver; a creature of sir Gllc*

Overreach.

Order, ,ste:rard '\

Amble, usher ( , / 7 \ii .^ 1- , >to ladu Allworth.

rurnace, cook i -^

Watchali, porter J

A\'illd{), a parson.

Tapwell, an alehouse keeper.

Creditors, Servants, tS"c.

Ladif Allworth, a rich xcidoxc. ]\Iari>aret, Overreach's daughter. I'roth, Tap well's icife. Chauihernuiid. II aiting II oinan.

SCENE, the countrij near Xottiiighanj.

NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Before Tapwell's House.

Enter Wellborn in tattered apparel, Tapwell,

and Froth.

Jf^ell. No bouse ? nor no tobacco ?

Tap. Not a suck, sir; Nor the remainder of a single can Left by a drunken porter, all night pall'd too.

Froth. Not the dropping of the tap for your morning's draught, sir: ■'Tis verity, I assure you.

JVell. Verity, you brache!* The devil turn'd precisian ! Rogue, what am I ?

Tap. Troth, durst I trust you with a looking- glass, To let you see your trimshape,you would quit me. And take the name yourself.

Well. How, cjog 1

Tap. Even so, sir.

* TFe//. Verity, ^lotf brache!

The detil turn'd preaisian !] For brache see Vol. I. p. 209. A precisian is a puriUa ; a very general object of dislike in those times.

VOL. 111. I i

4S2 A NEW WAY TO VAX OLD DEBTS.

And I must tell you, if you but advance Your Plymouth cloak, ^ you shall he soon in- structed There dwells, and within call, if it please your

worship, A potent monarch, calTd a constable. That does command a citadel call'd the stocks ; A\'h().se guards are certain fdes of rusty' billmeu, Such as with great dexterity will haul

Your tatter'd, lousy

/fell. Rascal ! slave ! Froth. No rage, sir.

7ap. At his own peril : Do not put yourself In too much heat, there being no water near To quench your thirst ; and, sure, for other

li(juor, As mighty ale, or beer, they are things, I take it, You must no more remember; not in a dream, sir.

- And T must tell yon, if }lou but advance Your Plymouth tloajv, j Coxcter, ignorant of the moaning of this expri'ssion, holdU changed it io pi/c-uoni cloak ! and so it stands in his, am! Mr. M. Mason's precious editions ; tht)Ui;h \vliv Tapwi'll should bf so irritated by the advancing of a pilc- liorn chidk, neither of the ^enth'inen have tlunii^ht fit to explain. Wlteu Welll)orn evclainis, ''How, dog!" lie raises his cudgel to beatTapwell, >vIio threatens him, in his turn, M'ith a con- stable, kc. if he presumes to strike him : this is ti.e purport of the passage. That a sfci/f was ancienll) called a I'/i/nijut/i cloak may be proved by many instances; but the two following will br butVuient :

" Whose cloak, at Plj/muuth spun, was crab-tree wood."

Davknant, FoI. p. 229. " l)i) you 111. 11. frailty ? shall 1 walk in aPlffmouth cloak, that is to say, like a rogue, in my hose and doublet, and a crub-trcc cudiicl in niv hand ?" The lloncut If Iiorc.

* ll'liosc guards arc certain files a/'rnstv billnun,^ Coxeter and Mr. M. .Mason have — lustij biilincn : the old reading is surely more humorous.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 483

JFell. Why, thou untliankful villain, dar'stthou talk thus ! Is not thy house, and all thou hast, my gift?

Tap. I iind it not in chalk; and Timothy Tapwell Does keep no other register.

JtelL Am not I he Whose riots ted and clothed thee ? wert thou not Born on my father's land, and proud to be A drudge in his house ?

Tap. What I was, sir, it skills not; What you are, is apparent : now, for a farewell, Since you talk of father, in my hope it will tor- ment you, I'll briefly tell your story. Your dead father, ]\fy quondam master, \s'as a man of worship. Old Sir John Wellborn, justice of peace and

quorum. And stood fair to be custos rotulorum ; Bore the whole sway of the shire, kept a great

Iiouse, Relieved the poor, and so forth ; but he dying, And the twelve hundred a year coming to you, Late master Francis, but now forlorn Wellborn —

JVell. Slave, stop ! or I shall lose myself.

Froth. Very hardly ; You cannot out* of your way.

Tap. But to my story : You were then a lord of acres, the prime gallant, And I your under butler; note the change now: You had a merry time oft ; hawks and hounds, With choice of running horses: mistresses Of all sorts and all sizes, yet so hot As their embraces made your lordships melt;

♦ You cannot out of your xvai/.'] The modern editors misun- derstanding this simple phrase, have been pleased to adapt it to their owu conceptions ; they read,

Yuu cannot be out of' your viaij !

I i 2

484 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

A\ bicli your uncle, Sir Giles Overreacli, observing-, (Resolving not to lose a drop of them,) On foolish morto:ages, statutes, and bonds. For a Mhile supj)lied your looseness, and then left you. II ell. Some curate hath pcnn'd this invective^ niong-rcl, And vou have studied it.

Tap. 1 have not done vet : Your land gone, and your credit not worth a

token,* You grew the common borrower; no man scaped Your pa|)er-pcllets, from the gentleman To the beggars on highways, that sold you

switches ,

In vour i>allantrv.

U ell. 1 shall switch your brains out. Tap. Where* poor Tim Tapwell, with a little stock, Some forty pounds or so, bought a small cottage ; Humbled myself to marriage with my Froth here,

Gave entertainment

Hell. Yes, to whores and canters,' Clul>bers by night.

^ Ynur hind <j;onc, and i/f>iir credii iiotxcoith a (okoii,] '* During the reiffu of Qut'cii Kli/.abcth, and from tlicuccrorward to that ot" Chai Irs the Second, very little brass or copper money was coined by authority. For the convenience of the publick, there- fore, tradesmen were j)ermitted to coin small money, or tokens, as the\ were called, \^llich were used for chaiii^e." Old I'/ays, Vol. III. p. 'J()7. These little pieces are mentioned by most of our old writers; (heir value is not ascertained, but seems to have beiii about a fartliin[T.

'' \\ Uiiv puur 'Jim J'apiLfll, i^c.] ('o\cter and .Mr. .M. .Midori ri-ad, When puur Tim 'J'a/nirll, Sec. but the quarto is rif;ht. U'/irrr stands for ■wlicrcas, as it fre(|uently does in our anciml writers.

^ canters,] i. e. Kogues, sturdy beg-

gars, &.C.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 485

Tap. True, hut they brought in profit, And had a gift to pay for what tliey called for; And stuck not like your mastership. The poor

income I glean 'd from them hath made me in my parish Thought worthy to he scavenger, and in time May rise to he overseer of the poor ; Which if I do, on your petition, Wellborn, I may allow you thirteen-pence a quarter, And you shall thank my worship.

JVelL Thus, you dog- bolt. And thus ~ [Beats and kicks him.

Tap. Cry out for help !

If'ell. Stir, and thou dicst : Your potent prince, the constable, shall not save

you. Hear me, ungrateful hell-hound ! did not I Make purses for you ? then you lick'd my boots, And thought your holiday cloak too coarse to

clean them. 'Twas I that, when I heard thee swear if ever Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou wouldst Live like an emperor; 'twas I that gave it In ready gold. Deny this, wretch !

Tap. I must, sir ; For, from the tavern to the ta])house, all, - On forfeiture of their licenses, stand bound Ne'er to remember who their best guests were, If they grew poor like you.

irell. They are well rewarded That beggar themselves to make such cuckolds

rich. Thou viper, thankless viper ! impudent bawd ! — But since you are grown forgetful, I will help i Your memory, and tread thee into mortar ; Not leave one bone unbroken. ^ Beats liiinaifain.

486 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Jap. Oh!

Froth. Ask mercy.

Enter Allmorth.

JVcU. 'Twill not be iirantcd.

AIL Hold, for my sake hold. Deny me, Frank ! they are not worth your anirer.

JlclL For once thou liast redecm'd them tVom this sceptre ;' Ihit let them vanish, creepin<>- on tlicir knees, And. it' thev scramble, I revoke mv pardon.

Froth. This comes of your prating, husband ; you presumed On vour andjlin<>- wit, and must use your siFil)

tongue, Thoun'h vou arc beaten lame for'L

Tap. Patience, Froth ; There's law to cure our bruises.

YFheij go ojf on their hands and h)ices.

If^ell. Sent to your motiierr'

AIL My lady, Frank, my patroness, my all ! She's such a mourner tor my tathcrs death, And, in her loxc to him, so favours me, That 1 cannot pay too much observance to her: Tiiere are tew such stepdames.

IFclL 'Tis a noble widow, And keeps licr reputation pure, and clear

X

Will. For once thou liast rahcni'd f/irvi j'lom (his sroptro;] Till- old (()i)v has a nuri^iiial I'xp'niiafioii here; it sa\s. " /;is ctulgil," i. V. tlir I'/i/nioiith cloak mciilioiuHl in a loriiur pam'.

9 Wfll. .S'(/// to i/oiir itiut/icr?] ifCoxi'trr ar.il .Mr. .M. Ma-^oii had but palior)ri' to have read a liitlo liirthi-r, they wouM have }>»rn (hat Alluorlh w .is disjjatt hi'd on his |)irM'nt i-i rand h\ Lord l.ovrll ; ami nw^ht thiii have siiliiifd the tt^xl lo stand as .M.is- singor left it. 'Ihiy inacciirutel) read :

WrII. Sint lor to ijuiir uwtlur !

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 487

From the least taint of infamy ; lier life,

With the splendour of her actions, leaves no

tongue

To envy or detraction. Prithee tell me, Has she no suitors ?

AIL Even the hest of the shire, Frank, My lord, excepted ; such as sue, and send, And send, and sue again, but to no purpose ; Their frequent visits have not gained her presence. Yet she's so far from suUenness and pride. That I dare undertake vou shall meet from her A liberal entertainment : I can give you A catalogue of her suitors' names.

JVelL Forbear it. While I give you good counsel : I am bound to it. Thy father was my friend ; and that affection I bore to him, in right descends to thee ; Thou art a handsome and a hopeful youth. Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee, If I with any danger can prevent it.

All. I thank your noble care ; but, pray you, in what Do I run the liazard r

Well. Art thOu not in love ? Put it not off uith wonder.

All. In love, at my years !

JVell. You think you walk in clouds, but are transparent.*

* YoH think you walk in clouds, but are transparent.] The old reading was,

You think you walk in clouds, but are transient, Which was certainly an errour of the press. Coxeter and M. Mason.

So say the former editors : the truth, however, is, that the old reading is trans -rent, and the omission oi pa was sojely oc- casioned by a break in the line. It is pleasant to see Mr. i\I. Mason vouch for the reading of a copy into which he never

488 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

I have heard all, and the choice that you have

made ; And, with my finger, can point ont tlie north star By \\hicli the loadstone of your tolly's guided; And, to confirm this true, what think you of Fair Alaroaret, the only chiUi and heir Of Cormorant Overreach r Does it'' blush and

start. To hear her only named? blush at your want Of w it and reason.

j^/l. You are too bitter, sir.

IFei/. Wounds of this nature are not to he cured With balms, but corrosives. I must be plain : Art thou scarce maiiumised from the porter's

lodge,' And yet sworn servant to the pantoile. And dar'st thou dream of marriage r 1 fear 'Twill be concluded for impossible, That there is now, or e'er shall be hereafter, A handsome page, or player's boy of fourteen, But either lo-\'es a Avench, or drabs love him; Court-Maiters not exempted.

yUi. This is madness. llowe'er you have discover'd my intents, You know my aims are lawl'ul; and if ever The (jueen of flowers, the glory of the spring, The sweetest eomfoit to our smell, the rose, Sprang from an einious briar, I may infer There's such disparity in tlieir conditions,

rondcsffiulcd Jo look, and of flu- cxisttMiro of which it is for hi>> crtdif to suppose liim alto^.thcr i^iir)iaiit.

* Doi's it /////^// (ind sturr,] So the ((iiaifo ; ihr luoiloni oditors poorly read — Dost bltit^li, \r.

^ Art thou scarce luanuiniscd from the porter's loilgr,'\ Tlic first dcprcc of servitndi', as 1 haw alrvad\ ohM-rvrd ; m-c \\\\ 1. p. 'i'J'i.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 489

Between the goddess of my soul, the daughter, And the hase churl her father.

JFcll. Grant this true, As I beheve it, canst tliou ever hope To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father Ruin'd th.y state ?

All. And your's too.

Ji'ell. I confess it." True ; I must tell you as a friend, and freely, That, where impossibilities are apparent, 'Tis indiscretion to nourish hopes. Canst thou imagine (let not self-love blind thee) That Sir Giles Overreach, that, to make her great In SAvelling titles, without touch of conscience, Will cut his neighbour's throat, and I hope his

own too,

Will e'er consent to make her thine? Give o'er, And think of some course suitable to thy rank, And prosper in it.

All. You have well advised me. But, in the mean time, you, that are so studious Of my aifairs, wholly neglect your own : Remember yourself, and in what plight you are.

JVell. No matter, no matter.

All. Yes, 'tis much material : You know my fortune, and my means; yet some- thino-

I can spare from myself, to help your wants.

jrdl. How's this?

All. Nay, be not angry ; there's eight pieces. To put you in better fashion.

JVell. JMoney from thee !

4 Well. / confess it.

True; 1 7/)usi kc.'] So the old copy. Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason, that they may spoil the metre of tAvo lines, read, Well. / confess it true. J must iScCr

490 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Erom a boy ! a stipendiary ! one that lives At the devotion of a stepmother, And the uncertain favour of a lord ! I'll eat niv arms first, llowsoe'er blind Fortune Hath spent the utmost of lier malice on me; Though 1 am vomited out of an alehouse, And thus, accoutred ; know not where to eat, OjT drink, or sleej), but underneath this canopy; Although 1 thank thee, I despise thy offer; And as I, in my madness, broke my state, Without the assistance of another's brain, In my right wits I'll piece it ; at the worst. Die thus, and be forgotten.

All. A strange humour ! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

■

A Room in Lady All worth's House. Enter Order, AiMBLE,FuRNACE,rt;?f/WATCHALL.

Ord. Set all things right, or, as my name is Order, And by this staff of office, that commands you, This chain and double ruff, symbols of power, Whoever misses in his function. For one whole week makes forfeiture of his

breakfast, And privilege in the wine-cellar.

Amb. You are merry, Good master steward.

Furn. Let him ; 111 i)e angry.

Anih. Why, iellow Furnace, "tis nut twche o'clock vet, Nor dinner taking up ; then 'tis allow'd Cooks, by their places, may be cholcrick.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 49 1

Furn. You think you have spoke wisely, good- man Amble, My lady's go- before !

Or(l. Nay, nay, no wrangling. Furn. 'Twit me with the authority of the kitchen ! At all hours, and all places, I'll be angry ; And thus provoked, when I am at my prayers I will be angry.

Amb, There was no hurt meant.

Furn. I am friends with thee, and yet I will

be angry. Orel With whom ?

Furn. No matter whom : yet, now I think on it, I am angry with my lady. Hatch. Heaven forbid, man ! Orel. What cause has she given thee ? Furn. Cause enough, master steward. I was entertained by her to please her palate, And, till she forswore eating, I perform'd it. Now, since our master, noble AUworth, died, Though I crack my brains to find out tempting

sauces, And raise fortifications* in the pastry, Such as might serve for models in the Low

Countries ; Which, if they had been practised at Breda, Spinola might have thrown his cap at it, and ne'er took it

5 And raise fortifications in the pastry-

IV/iicfi, if they had been practised at Breda,

Spinola &c.] This was one of the most celebrated sieges of the time, and is frequently mentioned by our old dramatists, Spinola sat down before Breda on the 2Gth of August, 1624, and the town did not surresder until the 1st of July in the fol- lowing year. The besieged suffered incredible hardships: " butter," says the historian, Herman Hugo, '• was sold for six llorins a pound j a calf of 17 days old, for forty-eight; a hog,

492 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Amb. But you had wanted matter there to work on.

Furu. Matter ! with six eggs, and a strike of rye meal, I had kept the town till doomsday, perhaps longer.

Ord. 15ut what's tliis to your j>et against my lady ?

Funi. \\'hat's this? marry this; when I am three parts roasted, And the fourth part parhoi I (l, to prepare her viands, She keeps her chamber, dines with a panada, Or water-gruel, my sweat never thought on.

Ord. But your art is seen in the dining-room.

Furih By ^vhom ? By such as pretend love to her; but come To feed upon her. Yet, of all the harpies That do devour her, I am out of charitv With none so much as tlie thin-gutted squire That's stolen into commission.

Ord. Justice Greedy ?

Furu. The same, the same : meat's cast away upon him, It never thrives; he holds this paradox, Mho eats not well, can ne'er do justice well : Jlis stomach's as insatiate as the grave. Or strumpets' ravenous appetites.

[KTWcking xcith'nt.

Watch. One knocks. [Eslt.

for OHO hiiiiclrid and fifU'cii ; aiul tobai co, for one hundrt'il lloihis thf II). :" this was alti-r tlioy l»ad consinncd most ol the liorsps. -\ ffw da\s after, the narrator adds, that " as nnich tobacf () us in otlur places nii{^:li( have l)een had for ten florins, uas sold in Breda lor twelve hundred!" It appears that this tobacco was used as " phjsick, it beini; the only remedy they had against the srnrvy."

The raifihig of furl ilk (it ions in jxi^in/ seems to have been a fashionable practice, since I scarcely recollect tin- details of any grvat entertainment in the reigns of ICliz.abetli and James, where the lorlifu atifMis of the cook or the coufoctionor are not duly commemorated.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 493 Ord. Our late young master 1

Re-enter W AT c II xi.1. with Allworth.

Amb. Welcome, sir.

Furn. Your hand ; If you have a stomach, a cold bake-meat's ready.

Ord. His father's picture in little.

Furn. We are all your servants.

Aynb. In you he lives.

All. At once, my thanks to all ; This is yet some comfort Is my lady stirring?

Enter Lady Allworth, JVaiting fVoman, and

Chambermaid.

Ord. Her presence answers for us.

L. All. Sort those silks well. I'll take the air alone.

[^Exeunt JVaiting TVoman and Chambermaid,

Furn. You air and air ; But will you never taste but spoon-meat more ? To what use serve I ?

L. All. Prithee, be not angry ; I shall ere long ; i'the mean time, there is gold To buy thee aprons, and a summer suit.

Furn. I am appeased, and Furnace now grows cool.'

L. All. And, as Igave directions, if this morning I am visited by any, entertain them As heretofore ; but say, in my excuse, I am indisposed.

Ord. I shall, madam,

L. All. Do, and leave me. Nay, stay you, Allworth.

[^Exeunt Order, Amble, Furnace, and JVatchalL

^ I am appeased, and "furnace 7ww grows cool.] Old copy cook ; aracaded by Coxeter.

494" A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

All. I shall gladly grow here, To wait on your coniniands.

L. All. So soon tiirn'd courtier !

All. Style not that courtshij), madam, which is duU- Purchased on your part.

L. All. Well, you shall o'ercomc ; I'll not contend in words. IJow is it with Your nohle master?

All. Ever like liimsrlf ; Ko scruple lesseu'd in the full weight of honour ; He did command me, pardon my presumption, As his unworthy deputy, to kiss Your ladyshij)"s fair hands.

L. ulll. 1 am honour'd iii His favour to me. Does he hold his jnirpose For the Low Countries?

All. Constantly, good madam ; But lie will in person first present his service.

L. All. And how approve you of his course ' you are yet Like virgin parchment, capahle of any Inscription, vicious oi- honourahle. I will not force \our u ill, hut lea\e vou free To your own election.

All. Any form, you please, I will put on ; but, might I make my choice, With Innnble emulation 1 would follow The path my lord marks to me.

L. All. 'lis well answer'd, And 1 commend }our spirit : you had a father, Bless'd be his memory ! tiiat some \'Q\y hours Before the m ill of heaNcn t(jok him fiom me, Who did commend yon, by the dearest tics Of perfect love between us, to my charge ; And, therefore, what I speak you are bound to hear W \\.\\ such respect us if he lived in nic.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 495

He was my husband, and howe'er you are not Son of my womb, you may be of my love, Provided you deserve it. All. I have found you, Most honour'd madam, the best mother to me ; And, with my utmost strengths of care and service. Will labour that you never may repent Your bounties shower'd upon me.

L. All. I mnch hope it. These were your father's words : Ifeer my son Follow the war, tell him it is a school JVhere all the principles tending to honour Are taught, if truly followed : but for such As repair thither, as a place in xvhich They do presume they may xcith license practise Their lusts and riots, they shall never merit The noble name of soldiers. To dare boldly In a fair cause, and, for their country's safety. To run upon the cannon's mouth undaunted ^ To obey their leaders, and shun mutinies ; To bear with patience the winter's cold, And summer s scorcJung heat, and not to faint, JP'hen plenty of provision fails, with hunger; Are the essential parts make up a soldier^ Not swearing, dice, or drinking.

All. There's no syllable You speak, but is to me an oracle, Which but to doubt were impious, L. Ail. To conclude : • Beware ill company, for often men Are like to those with whom they do converse* And, from one man I warn vou, and that's

Wellborn: Not 'cause he's poor, that rather claims your pity ; But that he's in his manners so debauched, •And hath to vicious courses sold bimself. 'Tis true your father loved him, while he was

496 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Worthy the loving; but if he hud lived

To have seen him as he is, he had cast him off.

As you must do.

Jll/. I shall obey in all thino-s. .• Z. u-ll/. Follow me to niv chamber, you shall

have "-old To furnish you like my son, and still sujjplicd, As I hear from you.

A//. I am still your creature. [Ejcinit.

SCENE III. A Hall in ilic -same.

Enter Overreach, Greedy, Order, Amble, FuuxACE, Watchall, fl'wJ Marrai.l.

Greedy. Not to be seen !

Over. Still cloister'd up ! Her reason, I hope, assures her, thouoh she make herself Close prisoner ever ior her husband's loss, 'Twill not recover him.

Orel. Sir, it is her Mill, Which we, that are her servants, ought to serve, And not dispute : howe'er, you are nobly wel- come; And if you please to stay, that you may think so, There came, not six days since, from Hull, a pi|)e Of rich Canary, which shall spend itself Tor my ladys lujnour.

(ireedij. Is it of the right race ?

Ord. \ es, master Greedy.

^hiih. How his mouth runs o'er!

Furn. ril make it run, and run. Save youi good worship 1

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 497

Greedy. Honest master cook, thy hand ; again : how I love thee ! Are the good dishes still in being? speak, boy.

Furn. If you have a mind to feed, there is a chine Of beef, well seasoned.

Greedy. Good !

Furn, A pheasant, larded.

Greedy. That I might now give thanks for't 1

Furn. Other kickshaws. Besides, there came last night, from the forest of

Sherwood, The fattest stag I ever cook'd.

Greedy. A stag, man !

Furn. A stag, sir; part of it prepared for dinner. And baked in puff-paste.

Greedy. Puff-paste too ! Sir Giles, A ponderous chine of beef! a pheasant larded ! And red deer too, sir Giles, and baked in puff- paste ! All business set aside, let us give thanks here.

Furn. How th^ lean skeleton's rapt !

Over. You know we cannot.

Mar. Your worships are to sit on a commission, And if you fail to come, you lose the cause.

Greedy. Cause me no causes. I'll prove't, for such a dinner, We may put off" a commission : you shall find it Henrici decimo quarto.

Over. Fie, master Greedy ! Will you lose me a thousand pounds for a diimer? No more, for shame ! we must forget the belly When we think of profit.

Greedy. Well, you shall o'er-rule me ; I could e'en cry now. Do you hear, master cook, Send but a corner of that iminortal pasty, VOL. III. K k

4P8 A NEW WAV TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

And I, in thankfulness, will, by your boy, Send you — a brace of three-pences. Furn. Will you be so prodigal?

Enter Wellborn".

Over. Remember me to vour lady. M'ho have we here ?

JVtll. You know me/

Over. I did once, but now I will not ; Thou art no blood of mine. Avaunt, thou beggar ! If ever thou presume to own me more, I'll have thee caged, and whipt.

Greedy. I'll grant the M^arrant. Think of pie-corner, Furnace !

\^Excunt Overreach, Greedjj, and jMarrall.

Hatch. Will vou out, sir? I wonder how you durst creep in.

Ord. This is rudeness, And saucy impudence.

Anib. Cannot you stay To be serve(l,amongyourfellows, from the basket," But you must press into the hall ?

Furn. Prithee, vanish Into some outhouse, though it be the pigstie; My scullion shall come to thee.

7 WrII. Yon know mc. \ For (liis dinnifiod answer (lie nio- (li'iii editors, wit I) t-ijual oK'gaiice and harmony, road — Don't yon know nic ?

" To /»• .sinid, among t/otir f'cHou.s., from (lir basket,] i.e. from the brokiii brrad and meat which, in j;n.'al housi-s, was distri- l)uU(l to thi' poor at the portt-r's lodge, or reserved to be ( ar- ried every night to the prisons for debtors and other ni-ccs^ilons persons. Ifenre, jx-rhaps, the allusion of Amble. Thus Shirley : "" I'll have yon clapt up again, where you shall howl all day at the grate, for a meal at i\'\j,hl from Ihc banket." Bird tit, a Cage.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 499

Enter All WORTH.

TVell. This is rare : Oh, here's Tom AUworth. Tom !

AIL We must be strangers ; Nor would I have you seen here for a million.

[Ejcit.

JFell. Better and better. He contemns me too 1

Enter Waitin"- Woman and Chambermaid.

Woman. Fob, what a smell's here ! what thing's this ?

Cham. A creature Made out of" the privy ; let us hence, for love's

sake, Or I shall swoon.

Woman. I begin to faint already.

{Exeunt Waiting Woman and Chambermaid,

Watch. Will you know your way?

Amb. Or shall ,we teach it you By the head and shoulders ?

JFell. No; I will not stir ; Do you mark, I will not : let me see the wretch That dares attempt to force me. Why, you slaves,. Created only to make legs, and cringe; To carry in a dish, and shift a trenclief ; That have not souls only to hope a blessing Beyond blackjacks or flagons; you, that were born Only to consume meat and drink, and batten Upon reversions ! — who advances.' who Shews me the way ?

Ord. My lady !

Kk 2

500 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Enter Lady Allm'orth, Waiting Woman, and

Chambermaid.

Chavi. Here's tlic monster.

Jl'oman. Sweet madam, keep your glove to vour nose.

Cham. Or let me Fetch some perfumes may be predominant ; You wrong yourself else.

JVell. Madam, my designs Bear me to you.

L. All. To me !

7/W/. And though I have met M'itli Butra2:i>-ed entertainment from your ""rooms here, I hoj)c from you to receive tliat noble usage As may become the true friend of your husband, And then I shall forget these.

L. All. 1 am amazed To see, and hear this rudeness. Darest thou think. Though sworn, that it can ever find belief, That I, who to the best men of this country Denied my presence, since my husband's death, Can fall so low, as to change words with thee? Thou son of infamy ! forljear my house, And know, and keep the distance that's between

us; Or, though it be against ni}^ gentler temper, I shall take order you no more shall be An cvesore to me.

Well. Scorn me not, good lady; I*)iit, as in form you are angelical, Iniitale the heavenly natures, and vouchsafe At the least awliile to hear me. You will grant The blood that runs in this arm is as noble As that which iills your veins; those costly jewels,

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 501

And those rich clothes you wear, your men's

ohservance, And women's flattery, are in you no virtues ; Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices. You liave a fair fame, and, I know, deserve it; Yet, lady, I must say, in nothing more Than in the p^ious sorrow you have shewn For your late noble husband.

Ord. How she starts !

Fiirn. And hardly can keep finger from the eye, To hear him named.

L. yill. Have you aught else to say ?

IVdl. That husband, madam, was once in his fortune Almost as low as I; want, debts, and quarrels Lay heavy on him : let it not be thought A boast in me, though I say, I relieved him. 'Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword That did on all occasions second his; I brought him on and off with honour, lady ; And when in all men's judgments he was sunk. And in his own hopes not to be buoy'd up,' I stepp'd unto him, took him by the hand, And set him upright.

Fiirji. Are not we base rogues That could forget this ?

JVell. I confess, you made him Master of your estate ; nor could your friends, Though he brought no wealth with him, blame

you for it ; For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind Made up of all parts, either great or noble; So winning a behaviour, not to be Resisted, madam.

9 not to he buoy'd up,] So

Dodsley, and perhaps rightly: the quarto reads, bunged up.

509, A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Z. Ail. Tis most true, lie had.

JFelL For his sake, then, in that I was his friend, Do pot contemn me.

L. All. For what's past excuse me, I will redeem it. Order, give the gentleman A hundred pounds.

JVell. No, madam, ori no terms : I will nor heg nor horrow sixpence of you, But he supphed elsewhere, or want thus ever. Only one suit I make, which you deny not To strangers; and "tis tliis. [fl'hispcr.s to her.

L. All. Fie ! nothing else?

Wdl. Nothing, unless you please to charge your servants, To throw away a little respect upon mc.

L. All. Mhat you demand is yours. {Exit.

Wdl. I thank you, lady. Now what can he wrought out of such a suit Is yet in supposition : 1 have said all ; When you please, you may retire: — nay, all's

forgotten ; And, for a lucky omen to my project, tSliake hands, and end all quarrels in the cellar.

Ord. Agreed, agreed.

Turn. Still merry master Wellborn. \Ext:uni,

A NEAV WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 503

ACT 11. SCENE I.

A Room in Overreach's House. Enter Overreach and Marrall.

Over. He's gone, I M^arrant thee ; this commis- sion crush VI him.

Mar. Your worships* have the way on't, and ne'er miss To squeeze these unthrifts into air : and yet The chapfairn justice did his part, returning, For your advantage, the certihcate. Against his conscience, and his knowledge too, With your good favour, to the utter ruin Of the poor farmer.

Over. 'Twas for these good ends I made him a justice : he tliat bribes his belly Is certain to command his soul.

Alar. I wonder, Still with your license, why, your worship having The power to put this tliin-gut in commission, You are not in't yourself?

Over. Thou art a fool ; In being out of oltice I am out of danger; Where, if I were a justice, besides the trouble, I might or out of wilfulness, or errour. Run myself finely into a premunire,

* Mar. Yoiir worships have the icay on't, and ne'er miss~\ This I take to be the genuine reading, for the quarto is both in- correct and ungrammatical here. The former editors read, Your uon/iip has &c. as if a oonipliment were intended to Over- reach ; but Overreach was not in the commission which is here «aid to hare the way onH.

o04 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

And so become a prey to the informer. No, ril have none ot'"t ; 'tis enough I keep Greedy at my devotion: so he serve My purposes, let him hang, or damn, I care not ; Eriendship is but a word. M(ir. You are all Mis(h)m. Over. I would be worldly wise ; for the other wisdom, That does prescribe us a well-go vern'd life, And to do right to others, as ourselves, I value not an atom.

Mar. A\'hat course take you, With your good patience, to hedge in the manor Of vour neighbour, master Erugal? as 'tis said He will nor sell, nor borrow, nor exchange; And his land lying in the midst of your many

lordships Is a foul blemish.

Over. I have thought on't, Marrall, And it shall take. I must have all men sellers. And 1 the only purchaser. Mar. 'Tis most fit, sir.

Over, rtl therefore buy some cottage near his manor,^ Which done, Ell make my men break ope his fences,

- Over. rU thtirfurc l>ui/ sotve cottage mar his wanui\ kc.^ Sir Cik's is a bold and darii.g opprcssoi', Miiliciontly original in his gt-ncral plans, and not scrupulous of the nii-ans iniployrd in tlirir cxi'iution. Hi'ii.', ho^Vl'v^•^, lie is but an imitator: tin* mclhods of ur»stin<; ;i tk-frncfU-iS iu'ii:lil)<»nr"s iinird pr<i- perty frcjm liini liavc been understood, and practised, li\ tin; Overreaches of all ages, from (hat of Aliab to (lie present. — Liat ugrus ai;ri.<> adjictat., i,a\s Seneca, xidiimn irt pntio jnlUt (Ciis, III iiijiiiia. And Juvenal, more at larj;e:

tiiajorijiif xidituiy

Et nirlior iiciuii sr^^cs ; i)icri:iii.s it luiiic, it

Arbuita, d dima moiitiui ((ui vaiut ulnu.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 505

Ride o'er his standing corn, and in the night Set fire on his harns, or break his cattle's legs : These trespasses draw on suits, and suits expenses,

Qitonnn si prefio dominus non. vincifur ullo^ Node bores macri, lassoque famclica collo Jumenta ad virides hujus mitteiitvr aristas. Dicere vix possis, quam muUi tulia plorent, Et qiiot vcmiks injuria fecerit agros. Sat. xiv. ver. 142.

Sir Giles has been usually acxountcd the creature of the poet. Fortunately for mankind, indeed, such monstrous anomalies in the moral world do not often appear ; there can, however, be no doubt of their reality, and the age of Massinger was not without a proof of it.

Sir Giles Mompesson was undoubtedly the prototype of Sir Giles Overreach. He and one Michel had obtained of the facile James a patent for the sole manufacturing of gold and silver thread, which they abused to the most detestable purposes. " They found out," says Wilson, " a new alchemistical way to make gold and silver lace with copper and other sophistical ma- terials, to couzen and deceive the people. And so poysonous were the drugs that made up this deceitful composition, that they rotted the hands and arms, and brought lameness upon those that wrought it; some losing their eyes, and many their lives, by the venom of the vapours that came from it."

The clamours were so great on this occasion, that the king was obliged to call in the patent, and prosecute the offenders. There is an allusion, to these circumstances in the Bondman^ which was published while the aifair was yet recent :

" Here's another,

'•' Observe but what a cozening look he has ! — " Hold up thy head, man ; if, for drawing gallants "• Into mortgages for commodities, cheating heirs " With your new cot/nlerfcit gold thready and gumm'd velvets, " He does not transcend all that -went before /ii?n, " Call in his patent :" Act II. so. iii.

But to proceed : " Sir Giles Mompesson had fortune enough in the country to make him happy, if that sphere could have contained him, but the vulgar and universal errour of satiety with present enjoyments, made him too big for a rustieall condition, aud when lie came at court he was too little for that, so that some novelty must be taken up to set him in a-quilibrio to the place he was in, no matter what it was, let it be never so pesti- ient aud mischievous to others, he cared not, so he found benefit

.505 A NEW M'AY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Which I can spare, but will soon beg^^'ar him. When I have harried him thus two or tliree year, 'Jliough he sue in forma pauperis, \\\ sjjite OfalTliis thrift and care, he'll grow behind hand.

Mar. Tlie best I ever heard : I could adore you.

Oxer. Then, with the favour of my man of law, I M ill pretend some title : Avant will force him To put it to ar])itrement ; then, if he sell For half the value, he shall have ready money, And I possess his laud.

JSIar. 'Tis above wonder ! Wellborn was apt to sell, and needed not These fine arts, sir, to hook him in.

Over. Well thought on. This varlet, Marrall,Mives too long, to upbraid me With my close cheat put upon him. Will nor cold Nor hunger kill him ?

by it. To him Miihcl is nuulo coinpartner ; a poor snoakin<; justice, that lived amoiiji the brolheU near C'larton-wel, whoso tlerk ar.tl he picked a livclyhood out of those corners, jjivinj^ warrants for what they did, besides anniversary stipends (the frequent revenue of some justices of those times) for conniviiiL;. This thintj was a poysonous plant in its om n nature, and the fitter to be an infjredient to sucli a composition — whereby he took liberty to l)e more ravt-nous upon poor peoj)h', to the crating of the bones, and surkiuij; out tlie very marrov\ of their substance." Wilson's hijc and iic'i'^n of James I. Mtb uitno 1()'21, Fol. 1.55.

From this apposite extract, which I owe to the kindness of my ingenious Iriend .\!r. (Jilclirist, it will be sulliciently appa- rent not only from whence Massinsjer derived his principal character, but also v\ liere he found Marrall and CIreed\. 'I'lui snaikliiis justice., Michil, undoubtedly sat for the latter, and iii» clerk for the " tcrm-dri\ iiij;" Murrall ; whose ho])eful educa- tion will now enable the reader io account for his knowledjje of the " minerals, which he incorporated with the ink aiul \\a\" ol Wiliboi:!".. hum\.

^ 'I'liis rnr/tl, .Marrall, fixes lou Icng^^ So (he old copv. Tlu' modern editors, for no apjjnrent cause, at least none thai 1 cm discover, choose to read, 'J'/iis varlit, Wellborn, //;<*■ too luti^\

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 507

Mar. I know not what to think on't. I have used all means; and the last night I caused His host the tapster to turn him out of doors ; And have been since with all your friends and

tenants, And, on the forfeit of your favour, charged them, Though a crust of mouldy bread would keep him

from starving, Yet thev should not relieve him. This is done, sir.

Over. That was something, ]\Iarrall ; but thou must go further. And suddenly, IMarrall.

Jllar. Where, and when you please, sir.

Oter. I would have thee seek him out, and, if thou canst, Persuade him that 'tis better steal than beg ; Then, if I prove he has but robb'd a henroost, Not all the world shall save him from the gallows. Do any thing to work him to despair. And 'tis thy masterpiece.

3Iar. I will do my best, sir.

Over. I am now on my main work with the lord Lovell, The gallant-minded, popular lord Lovell, The minion of the people's love. I hear He's come into the country, and my aims are To insinuate myself into his knowledge. And then invite him to my house.

Mar. I have you : This points at my young mistress.

Over. She must part with That humble title, and write honourable, Right honourable, IMarrall, my right honourable

daughter ; If all I have, or e'er shall get, will do it ! I'll have her well attended ; there are ladies Of errant knights decay "d, and brought so low.

508 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

That for cast clothes and meat will gladly serve her. Ami 'tis my glory, though I come from the city, To have their issue M'hom I have undone To kneel to mine, as hondslaves.

]\Iav. 'Tis fit state, sir.

Over. And therefore, Ell not have a chamber- maid That ties her shoes, or any meaner oflice, But such whose fathers -were right worshipful. 'Tis a rich man's pride ! there having ever been ^lore than a feud, a strange antipathy, Between us and true gentry.

Enter W^ellbokx.

]\Iar. See, who's here, sir.

Oxer. Hence, monster ! prodigy !

IVtll. Sir, your wife's nephew;"* She and my father tumbled in one belly.

Orcr. Avoid my sight ! thy breath's infectious, rogue ! I shun thee as a leprosy, or the jilague. Come hither, Manall — this is the X'nwz to work him. \_Edit.

Jllar. I warrant you, sir.

rrell. By this liglit, 1 think he's mad.

jlJar. Mad I had you ta'en compassion on yourself, You long since had been mad.

/I t'/L You iia\e ta'en a course Bctu'cen you and my Aciierable uncle, To make me so.

* Well. Sir, i/(n/r -iiifr'.s iiip/i-w ;'] Coxofcr lliiiiks sonu'(hin!T is losl, because w Inn Overreach exclaims tiioiinttrf piudi^i/f ^Velll)()nl replies, Sir, i/iti/r xii/i''.s /uj'/ia. Hut all is a^ it should be; iiii answer e\i(lentiy implies, Sir, I am neither one iior (hw other, Oul, &c. Tliib is a common form of speech.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 509

Mar. The more pale-spiritecP yon,

That would not be instructed. I swear deeply

irdl. By what? Mar. By my religion. // e//. Thy religion ! The devil's creed ! — but what would you have done ? Mar. Had there been but one tree in all the shire, Nor any hope to compass a penny halter, Before, like you, I had outlived my fortunes, A withe had served my turn to hang myself. I am zealous in your cause; pray you hang jl yourself,'

And presently, as you love your credit. jrcli. I thank you. Jllar. Will you stay till you die in a ditch, or

lice devour you ?

Or, if you dare not do the feat yourself, But that you'll put the state to charge and trouble, Is there no purse to be cut, house to be broken, Or market-woman with eggs, that you may

murder, And so dispatch tlie business ?

5 Mar. The ?Morc pale-spirited j/o?*.] Surely this is very good sense ; and yet the modern editoris choose to read, The jnore dull- spirited you. I am weary of these everlasting sophistications without judgment and without necessity.

Since this was written I have found the same expression ia the Parllavieut uf Lore.

" To what purpose,

" Poor and pale-spirited man, should I expect " From thee the satisfaction " &c. Act II. sc. ii.

So that the old reading is established beyond the possibility of a doubt.

'^ I am zealous in your cause ; pray you hang yourself, j4tid presently,] This line is wholly omitted both by Coxetcr and Mr. M. Mason, though the sense of the next depends upon it. Less care to amend their author, and more tO exhibit him faithfully, might be wished in both of them.

510 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Jfcll. Here's variety, I must confess; hut 111 accept of none Of all your <;-eiitle offers, I assure you.

Mar. Why, have you hope ever to eat again, Or drink? or he the master ol'three farthinii:s r If you like not hanging, drown yourself; take

some course For your reputation.

Well. "Tw ill not do, dear tempter, With all the rhetorick the fiend hath taught you, I am as far as thou art from despair ; Nay, I have confidence, whicli is more than hope, To live, and suddenly, hctter than ever.

i\Ia)\ lia! ha! these castles you huild in the air Will not persuade me or to give or lend A token to you.

Jl'ell. ril he more kiiul to thee: Come, thou shalt dine w ith me.

M(n\ With vou !

JFell. Nay more, dine gratis.

Mar. Under what hedge, I ])ray you ? or at whose cost ? Arc they padders, or ahram-men^ that are your consorts ?

n^cll. Thou art incredulous; Init thou sludtdinc Not alone at her house, hut with a gallant lady ; ^\'ith me, and with a lad)-.

M(ir. Eady ! Mhat lady ? With the lady of the lake,« or (|uecn of fairies.^ For I know it nuist he an enchanted dinner.

fVcll. \\'ith ihe lady AUworlh, knave.

7 jfrc they padders^ ur abram-mcn t/u/f arc i/our consorts ?~\ An ahriini-vian was an iinpiuliiit imixishir. who, uiul'-r llir tjarb and an|u'araii(:»' of a luiiatick, rainbU-il abuiit tlic foniif.y, aiul coni- pfllcd, as DitUlt says, the srrvaiits ol small familirs '•'■ to give iiiin, »lu<)iit;li tVar, what I'vcr In* (Irniaiulcd." A j)iiudcr (a tfitii ^(ill ill use) i-i a liirkrr in (lu- hit;li\vays, a loolpad.

* H itk the lady 01 tho lake,] TJiis is a very promiiu'iil

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 51 1

Mar. Nay, now there's hope Thy brain is crack'd.

JVelL Mark tliere witli M'liat respect I am entertain'd.

Mar. With choice, no doubt, of dog-w hips. Why, dost thou ever hope to pass her porter?

Well. 'Tis not iar off', go with me; trust thine own eyes.

Mar. Troth, in my hope, or my assurance rather. To see thee curvet, and mount like a dog in a

blanket, If ever thou presume to pass her threshold, I will endure thy company.

Well. Come along then. [Ei^eunL

SCENE II.

A Room in Laclij All worth's House.

Enter Allm-orth, Waiting Woman, Chamber- maid, Order, Amble, Furnace, ^;z^ Watch- all.

Woman. Could you not command your leisure one hour longer?

Cham. Or half an hour ?

All. I have told you what my haste is : Besides, being now another's, not mine own, Howe'er I much desire to enjoy you longer, My duty suffers, if, to please mys,elf, I s'aould neglect m}' lord.

W^oman. Pray you do me the favour

character in Morte Arthur, and in many of our old romances. She seems to be the Circe of the dark ages; aud is frequently mentioned by our ©id dramatists.

512 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

To put these few c|iiince-cakcs into your pocket, They are of mine own preserving.

Cliam., And this niarnialcide ; 'Tis eomfortal)le for your stouiach.

Woman. And, at partiuL!,-, Excuse nie if I beg a farewell from you.

Cham. You are still before me. 1 move the same suit, sir. [Allzrurth kisses them severally. Far. How o-reedy these chamberers are of a beardless chin ! I think the tits will l•a\•i^h him.

j-lil. My service To both.

H'ouun/. Ours waits^ on }oa. Cham. And shall do ever.

Ord. You are my lady's charge, be therefore- careful That you sustain your parts.

H'uman. W'a can bear, I warrant you.

[E.reufU 11 at ting I Toman ami ChambcD/iuiJ. Far. Here, drink it off; the ingredients are cordial, And this tlie true elixir; it hath boifd Since michiight lor you. "Tis the (luintessence Of five cocks of the game, ten dozen of sparrows, Knuckles of veal, j)()tat()e-roots, and marrow, Coral, and and)ergris : were }()u two years older. And 1 had a wife, or gamesome mistress, I durst trust you with neither : you need not bait After this, I warrant you, though your journey's

long; You may ride on the strength of this till to mor- row morning. ylll. \ our courtesies overwhelm mc : 1 much grieve

9 Woman. Ours wiul^oii i/mi. \ i. c. Ouv xciikx : corrupted by llic luniu T nlit >is iiid) — Ums wuit on uuu.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 513

To part from such true friends ; and yet find

comfort, My attendance on my honourable lord, Whose resolution holds to visit my lady, Will speedily bring me back.

{Knocking witlnn. Exit JVatchali Mar. \zmtlnn.\ Dar'st thou venture further ? (Fell, \within.'] Yes, yes, and knock again, Orel. 'Tis he ; disperse ! Amb. Perform it bravely. Fiirn. I know my cue, ne'er doubt me.

[E.vemit all but Allworth.

Re-enter Watchall, introducing Wellborn and

Marrall.

JVatch. Beast that I was, to make you stay ! most welcome ; You were long since expected.

J Veil. Say so much To my friend, I pray you.

fVatch. For you^j- sake, I will, sir.

Mar. For his sake !

iVell. Mum ; this is nothing.

Mar. More than ever I would have believed, though I had found it in my primer.

All. When I have given you reasons for my late harshness. You'll pardon and excuse me; for, believe me, Though now I part abruptly, in my service I will deserve it.

Mar. Service 1 with a veno-eance !

fVell. I am satisfied : farewell, Tom.

All. All joy stay with you ! \_Ej:ii.

vol. iir. T. I

514 A NEW Wx\Y TO PAY OLD DEBTS

H-e-enter Amble.

Amb. You arc happily encoiinter'ti; I yet never Presented one so welcome as, I know, You will be to my lady.

Mar. This is some vision; Or, sure, these men are mad, to worship a dunghill; It cannot be a truth.

JFell. Be still a pagan, An unbelieving inhdel ; be so, miscreant. And meditate on blankets, and on dog-whips !

Re-enter Furnace.

Furii. I am glad you are come; until I know your pleasure, I knew not how to serve up my lady's dinner. ]\Iar. His pleasure ! is it possible ? jrdL What's thy will?

Furn. i\Iarry, sir, I liave some growse, and turkey chicken, Some rails and quails, and my lady Mill'd nic ask

you ^V'hat kind of sauces best aficct your palate. That 1 may use my utmost skill to please it. Mar. The devil's enter'd this cook : sauce for Ids palate, 'I'hat, on my knowledge, for almost this twelve- month, Durst wish but cheeseparings ami brown I)rt.'ad on Sundays ! U\ll. That way I like tliem best. Ftini. It shall be done, sir. [E.rit,

ll'elt. \\ hat think you of the hedge wc shall , dine undiT r

Shall we feed gratis ?

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 515

Mar. I know not what to think ; Pray you make me not mad.

Re-enter Order.

Orel. This place becomes you not ; Pray you walk, sir, to the dining-room,

JFell. I am well here Till her ladyship quits her chamber.

Mar. Well here, say you ? 'Tis a rare change ! but yesterday you thought Yourself well in a barn, wrapped up in pease-straw.

Re-enter Waiting Woman and Chambermaid.

IVoman. O ! sir, you are wished for.

Cham. My lady dreamt, sir, of you.

Woman. And the first command she gave, after she rose, Was, (her devotions done,) to give her notice Wlien you approach'd here.

Cham. Which is done, on my virtue.

Mar. I shall be converted ; I bes^in to jjrow Into a new belief, which saints nor angels Could have won me to have faith in.

JVojnan. Sir, my lady !

Enter Lady Allworth,

L. All. I come to meet you, and languished till I saw you. This first kiss is for form ;* I allow a second To such a friend. [Kisses JVellborn.

Mar. To such a friend ! heaven bless me !

* Tlmjirstkhsis {Qxiox\i\\\ So the quarto: Coxeter absurdly reads ybr me.

LI 2

516 A NEW AVAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

IFell. I am wholly yours ; yet, ^-adani, if you please To grace this gentleman Avitli a salute

]\Iar. Salute me at his bidding !

JVell. I shall receive it As a most high favour.

L. All. Sir, you may command me.

\A(hance.s to salute MarralL

ITell. Run backward from aladv! andsuchaladv?

Jllar. To kiss her foot is, to poor me, a favour 1 am unworthy of. {OjJ'o's to kiss he?' foot.

L. All. Nay, pray you rise ; And since you are so humble. Til exalt you : You shall dine with me to day, at mine own table.

Mar. Your ladyship's table ! I am not good enough To sit at your steward's board.

L. All. You are too modest : I will not be denied.

Re-enter Furnace.

Fiiru. ^^ ill you still ])e babbling Till yourmeat freeze on the tabic? the old trick still; My art ne'er thought on !

L. All. Your arm, master Wellborn :

Nay, keep us company. [Vc MarralL

Mar. 1 was ne'er so oraced.

[E.vcu/it II ellboriiy Ladi/ Allu'ortli^Anihle, Marr- all, II aiti/m; II oman, a)ul Chambermaid.

Ord. So ! we have play'd our parts, and arc come off well ; Ihit if I know the mystery why my lady Consented to it, or wby master Wellborn Desired it, may I perish!

Fani. Would 1 had U'lie roasting of his lieart that cheated liim, And forcci the poor gentleman to these shifts !

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 517

By fire ! for cooks are Persians, and swear by it, Of all the griping and extorting tyrants I ever heard or read of, I ne'er met A match to sir Giles Overreach.

JVatch. What will you take To tell him so, fellow Furnace ?

Funi. Just as much As my tliroat is worth, for that would be the

price on't. To have a usurer that starves himself, And wears a cloak of one and twenty years On* a suit of fourteen groats bought of the

hangman, To grow rich, and then purchase, is too common; But this sir Giles feeds high, keeps many servants. Who must at his command do any outrage ; Rich in his habit, vast in his expenses ; Yet he to admiration still increases In wealth, and lordships.

0/y/. He frights men out of their estates, And breaks through all law-nets, made to curb

ill men, As they were cobwebs. No man dares reprove him. Such a spirit to dare, and power to do, were never Lodged so unluckily.^

Re-e?iter Amble.

Amb. Ha ! ha ! I shall burst. Orel. Contain thyself, man. Furn, Or make us partakers Of your sudden mirth.

' On a suit &c.] Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason read, Or a suit, which totally destroys the author's meaning. But in their edi- tions every page, and almost every speech, of this fine Comedy is replete with similar blunders.

* The character of sir Giles is unfolded by these men with great spirit and precision.

518 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Amh. I la ! ha ! my lady has got Such a guest at her tabic 1 — this term-driver,

Marrall, This snip of an attorney

Furn. What of liim, man ?

Amb. The knave thinks still he's at the cook's shop in liam Alley,' Where the clerks divide, and the elder is to

choose ; And feeds so slovenly !

Furn. Is this all ?

Amb. My lady Drank to him for fashion sake, or to please

master Wellborn ; As I live, he rises, and takes up a dish In which there were some renniants of a boil'd

capon, And pledges her in white broth !

Fur /I. Nay, 'tis like The rest of his tribe.

Amb. And when I brought him wine. He leaves his stool, and, after a leg or two, ]\I()st Innnbly thanks my worship.

Ord. Risen already !

A?)ib. I shall be chid.

lie-enter Ladi) Allavortii, Wellbokx, and

AIauiiall,

Furn. ]\Iy lady frowns. /.. , ///. ^'()u w ait w ell :

' the cook's shop In U;iin Alley,] lliiin

Alhii is one ol (lii" avi'iiiics into (In- 'rcniiili- tVoni I'li-rf Street: the iiiiinl)er ol" its cooks' shops is alluded lo in IJarrv's ruined) : '• And thon^li Kain Alley stinks willi cvolis and ale, " Yet say, tlieii-'s many a wurtli) la\\\er's rlianii)er ^' That buts iipou it." Ram Alley, Act I.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 619

Let me have no more of this ; I observed your

jeering : Sirrah, I'll have you know, whom I think worthy To sit at my table, be he ne'er so mean, WHien I am present, is not your companion.

Ord. Nay, she'll preserve what's due to her.

Fiini. This refreshing Follows your flux of laughter.

L. All. \To JVellhorn.'] You are master Of your own will. I know so much of manners. As not to enquire your purposes ; in a word, To me you are ever welcome, as to a house That is your own.

JVell. Mark that.

Mar. With reverence, sir, An it like your worship."*

JVell. Trouble yourself no further; Dear madam, my heart's full of zeal and service, However in my language I arn sparing. Come, master Marrall.

Mar. I attend your worship.

[E.veunt JVellborn and Marall.

L. All. I see in your looks you are sorry, and you know me An easy mistress : be merry ; I have forgot all. Order and Furnace, come with me ; I must give

Further directions. Ord. What you please. Furn. We are ready. [E.veiint

■* Mar. JFith reverence , sir,

An it like your ivorskip.^ This change of language in Marrall is worth notice : it is truly characteristick.

520 A XEM' WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

SCENE III.

The CoLDitry near Lady Allworth's House.

Editer Wellborn' and ^Iarrall.

fi'ell. I tliiiik I am in a good way.

]\Iar Good! sir; the best way, The certain best way.

jydl. Tliere are casualties That men are subject to.

Mar, You are above them ; And as you are already worshipful, I hope ere long you m ill increase in worship. And be, ri^ht worshipful.

JTclL Prithee do not flout me: M'hat I shall be, I shall be. \tt for vour ease You keep your hat off.?

Mar. Ease, an it like your worship ! I hope Jack Marrall shall not live so long, To pro\e himself such an unmannerly beast, Though it hail hazel nuts, as to be cover'd When your worship's present.

I id I. Is not this a true rogue, That, out of mere hope of a future cozenage, Can turn thus sudtlcidy ? 'tis rank ahead} . [Aside,

iMar. I know your worship's m ise, and needs no counsel : Yet ii', in mv desire to do you service, I Inuublv olfcr my advict;, (but ^till Under correction,) 1 hope 1 shall not Incur your iiigh disj)leasure.

Il'dl. No; speak freely.

xM(ir. Then, in my judgment, sir, my simple judgment

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 521

(Still with your worship's favour,) I could -svish you

A better habit, for this canuot be

But much distasteful to the noble lady

(I say no more) that loves you : for, this morning,

To me, and I am but a swine to her,

Before the assurance of her wealth perfumed you,

You savour'd not of amber.

JVell. I do now then !

Ma7\ This your batoon hath got a touch of

it. [Kisses the end of his cudgel.

Yet if you please, for change, I have twenty

pounds here. Which, out of my true love, I'll presently Lay down at your worship's feet ; 'twill serve to

buy you A riding suit.

JVelL But where's the horse ?

Mar. My gelding Is at your service : nay, you shall ride me, Before your worship shall be put to the trouble To walk afoot. Alas ! when you are lord Of this lady's manor, as I know you will be, You may with the lease of glebe land, call'd

Knave's-'acre, A place I would manure, requite your vassal.

JFell. I thank thy love, but must make no use of it ; What's twenty pounds ?

Mar. 'Tis all that I can make, sir.

Well. Dost thou think, though I want clothes, I could not have them, For one word to my lady ?

Mar. As I know not that 1 *

^ As I know not that /] This, like too many others, is printed by the modern editors as an imperfect sentence : the expression is, however, complete, and means, in colloquial language. As (f I dO; or didj not know that jou might I

5^2 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

//e//. Come, I'll tell tlice a secret, and so leave

tliee. I'll not <>ive licr the aclvanta2:e, thoui!;!! she be A o-allant-miiicled lady, after we are married, (There l)eiii<>' no woman, but is sometimes fro-

ward,) To liit me in the teeth, and say, she M'as forced To buy my M^edding-elothes, and took me on "With a plain riding-suit, ami an ambling nag. No, ril be furnish'd something like myself, And so farewell : for thv suit touching Knave's-

acre, A\'hcn it is mine, 'tis thine. [Euit.

iMar. I thank your worship. How was I cozen'd in the calculation Of this man's Ibrtune ! my master cozen'd too, Whose ])iij)il I am in the art of undoing men; For that is onr profession ! Well, well, master

Wellborn, You are of a sweet nature, and fit again to be

cheated : A\'hich, if the Fates please, when you are posscss'd Of the laiul and lady, you, sans (jucstion, shall i)c. Fll presently think of the means.

[ll'allxs ill/, mu-shig.

Enter Overrlach, speaking to a acrvant xcitliut.

Over. SIriah, take my horse, ril walk to get me an ap[)etite; 'tis but a mile, And exercise \\\\\ keep me from being pnrscy. I la ! .Marrall ! is he conjuring? perha|)s 'i'iie knave has w louglit tlu; j)i-odigal to do Sonu' outrage on himself, and now he tcels Compiinclion in his conscience for't : no matter, So It he done. Marrall !

JIar. Sir.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 5^3

Over. How succeed we In our plot on Wellborn ?

Alar. Never better, sir.

Over. Has he hang'cl or drown'd himself?

Mar. No, sir, he lives ; '

Lives once more to be made a prey to you, A greater prey than ever.

Over. Art thou in thy wits ? If thou art, reveal this miracle, and briefly.

Mar. A lady, sir, is fall'n in love with him.

Over. With him ! what lady ?

Mar. The rich lady AUworth.

Over. Thou dolt ! how dar'st thou speak this ?

Mar. I speak truth. And I do so but once a year, unless It be to you, sir : Ave dined with her ladyship, I thank his worship.

Over. His worship !

Mar. As I live, sir, I dined with him, at the great lady's table, Simple as I stand here ; and saw when she kiss'd

him. And would, at his request, have kiss'd me too ; But I was not s6 audacious, as some youths are,* That dare do any thing, be it ne'er so absurd, And sad after performance.

^ But T was 7wt so audacious, and some youths are,'] Mr. Dodsley has,

But I was not so audacious as some youths are.

And dare do any tiling, &c. I think the old reading right. Coxeter.

Mr. M. Mason differs from the judicious Coxeter, and thinks " Dodsley's is the most simple amendment." All this is truly ri- diculous : what both the editors term the emendation ol Dodsley is really the old reading ; and what they call the old reading, a dream of their own, no where to be found. In the next verse, for And, which was probably taken, by a common crrour, from the word immediately under it, I have ventured to substitute That.

524 A XEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Orer. Wliy, tlioii rascal ! To tell iiic these impossibilities.

Dine at her tabic ! and kiss hiin ! or thee !

Inipiideiit varlet, have not I myself,

"^Fo w horn great countesses' doors have oft flew

f)pen, Ten times attempted, since her husband's death. In vain, to see her, though I came — a suitor? And yet your good solicitorship, and rogue Well- born, AV'ere brought into her presence, feasted with

hcrf^

But that I know tliee a dog that cannot blush, This most incredible lie would call up one On tliy buttermilk cheeks.

Alar. Shall 1 not trust my eyes, sir, Or taste ? I feel her good cheer in my belly. Over. You shall feel me, if you give not over, sirrah : Recover your brains again, and be no more gull'd. ^\'ith a beggar's plot, assisted by the aids Of ser\iiig-men and chambermaids, for beyond

these Thou never saw'st a woman, or Til (juit you I'rom my employments.

Mar. W ill you credit this yet ? On my confitlence of their marriage, I olfer'd

^Velll)orn

I would give a crown now I durst say his Mor-

ship [Aside.

]My nag, and twenty pounds.

(her. Did you so, ideot ! [Slri/ies him doirn. \\ as this the way to work him to dcs|)air. Or ratbci" to cross me ?

Miir, Will your v/orshij) kill mc - Over. No, no; but drive the lying sj)irit out of }ou.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 5<25

]\far. lie's gone.

Over. I have done then: tioav, forgetting Your late imaginary feast and lady, Know, my lord Lovell dines with me to morrow. Be careful nought be Avanting to receive him ; And bid my daughter's women trim her up, Though they paint her, so she catch the lord, V\\

thank them : There's a piece for my late blows.

Mar. I must yet suffer : But there may be a time— [Askie.

Over. Do you grumble ?

Alar. No, sir. [Exeunt.

ACT III. SCENE I.

The Country near Overreach's House.

Enter Lord Lovell, Allavorth, and Servants.

Lov. Walk the horses down the hill: some- thing in private I must impart to AUworth, [Exeunt Servants.'

All. O, my lord. What sacrifice of reverence, duty, watching. Although I could put off the use of sleep, And ever wait on your commands to serve them: What dangers, though in ne'er so horrid shapes. Nay death itself, though I should run to meet it, Can I, and with a thankful willingness, suffer ;

7 Exeunt Servants.] Exeunt Servi, says tlie quarto; this Coxeter translates Exeunt Servant, and is faithfully followed hj Mr. M. Mason in his correctest of all eiitions !

52G A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

But still the retribution Mill fall short Of" your bounties showcr'd upon me ?

Lov. Lovini^ youth ; Till what I ])ur[)ose be put into act, Do not oerprize it; since you have trusted

me With your soul's nearest, nay, her dearest secret, Rest coniident 'tis in a cabinet lock'd Treachery shall never open. I have found you (For so much to your face I must profess, llowe'er you guard your modesty with a blush

for't) ]\Iore zealous in your love and service to me, Than I have been iu my rewards.

All. Still great ones, Above mv merit.

Lov. Such your gratitude calls them : Nor am I of that harsh and rugged temper As some great men are tax'd with, who imagine They part from the respect due to their honours, If they use not all such as follow them, Without distinction of their births, like slaves. I am not so conditional : I can make A fitting difference between my footboy, Aud a gentleman by Mant compell'd to serve me.

ylll. "I'is thankfully acknowledged ; you have been iMore like a father to mc than a master: Tray you, pardon the comparison.

Jj)V. 1 allow it ; And to give you assurance I am pleased in't, IMy carriag(; and demeanour to your mistress, Eair Margaret, shall truly witness for me, 1 can counnaud my passions.

.til. Tis a conipiest I'ew lords can boast of when they are tempted, —Oh I

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 527

Lov. Why do you sigh? can you be doubtful of me ? By that fair name I in the wars have purchased. And all my actions, hitherto untainted, I will not be more true to mine own honour, Than to my All worth !

All. As you are the brave lord Lovell, Your bare word only given is an assurance Of more validity and weight to me, Than all the oaths, bound up with imprecations. Which, when they would deceive, most courtiers

practise : Yet being a man (for, sure, to style you more Would relish of gross flattery) I am forced, Against my confidence of your worth and virtues, To doubt, nay more, to fear. Lov. So young, and jealous ! AIL Were you to encounter with a single foe. The victory were certain; but to stand The charge of two such potent enemies, At once assaulting you, as wealth and beauty, And those too seconded with power, is odds Too great for Hercules.

Lov. Speak your doubts and fears. Since you will nourish them, in plainer language, That I may understand them.

All. What's your will. Though I lend arms against myself, (provided They may advantage you,) must be obey'd. My much-loved lord, were Margaret only fair, The cannon of her more than earthly form, Though mounted high, commanding all beneath

And ramm'd with bullets of her sparkling eyes, Of all the bulwarks that defend your senses Could batter none, but that which guards your sight.

528 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

But when the well-tuned accents of lier tonijue Make musick to you, and with numerous sounds Assault your hearing, (such as Ulysses, if [he] Now lived again," howe'er he stood the Syrens, Could not resist,) the coml)at must grow doubtful Between your reason and rebellious passions. Add this too; when ^"ou feel her touch, and

breath Like a soft western wind, when it glides o'er Arabia, creating gums and spices; And in the van, the nectar of her lips. Which you must taste, bring the battalia on, Well arm'd, and strongly lined with her discourse, And knowing manners, to give entertainment; — liippolytus himself would leave Diana, To follow such a ^^enus.

Loi\ Love hath made you Poetical, Allworth.

j-lll. (J rant all these beat off, Which if it be in man to do, you'll do it, Mammon, in sir Giles Overreach, steps in With heaps of ill-got gold, and so much land. To make her more remarkal)le, as Mould tire A falcon's M'ings in one day to fly over. O my good lord ! these powerful aids, which

would ^Like a mi.s-shaj>en negro beautiful, (Yet are but ornaments to give her lustre, That in herself is all perfection,) must Prevail for her: 1 here release your trust ;

■ {such as U/i/sses, if [he]

No:c lived agnin^ &.] As tliis piissa^e stands in the former

Iditioiis it is scarcciv rcconcilcahh; citlii'r to jirammar or souse. Iidvc lia/..ii»l((l the iraiispositioii of oiii* woril (if) and tlu- addi- tion ot aiiotlicr (in hrackfts). For the former, I make no apoloi;\, as till- iiK orrt'cl stale of tlio old ropii's fr«'(|iuMi(!y ren- der', it necc3siir\ ; loi the latter, I sulicil the reader's iudul;;ence.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 529

'Tis happiness, enougli, for me to serve you, And sometimes, with chaste eyes, to look upon her.

Lov. Why, shall I swear ?

All. O, by no means, my lord ; And wrong not so your judgment to the world, As from your fond indulgence to a boy. Your page, your servant, to refuse a blessing Divers great men are rivals for.

Zor. Suspend Your judgment till the trial. How far is it To Overreach' house ?

AIL At the most some half hour's riding; You'll soon be there.

Lov. And you the sooner freed From your jealous fears.

All. O that I durst but hope it ! [E.remit.

SCENE II.

A Room in Overreach's House.

Enter Overreach, Greedy, and jVIarrall.

Over. Spare for no cost; let my dressers crack with the weight Of curious viands.

Greedy. *SVore indeed's no sore, sir. Over. That proverb fits your stomach, master Greedy. And let no plate be seen but what's pure gold. Or such whose workmanship exceeds the

matter That it is made of; let my choicest linen Perfume the room, and, when we wash, the water, VOL. III. Mm

530 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS,

Witli precious powders mix'd, so please my lord. That lie may' with envy wisli to bathe so ever.

Alar. "Twill be very chargeable.

Over. A vaunt, you drudge ! Now all my lahour'd ends arc at tlie stake, Is'tatime to think ofthrit't? Call in my dau^'hter, And, master justice, since you love choice dishes. And plenty of them

Grecdij. As I do, indeed, sir, Almost as much as to <>:ive thanks for them.

Over. 1 do confer that providence,* with my power Of absolute command to have abundance, To your best care.

Greedy. I'll jmnctually discharge it, And give the best directions. Now am I In mine own conceit a monarch, at the least Arch-president of the bod"d, the roast, the baked,

let ;»?/ choiccat Vuxcn

Pel funis the roo7)/^ and, xi/icii xce xca.sli , l/wxcaffr, IVith precious puxudcrs mix'd, so pleane mil hid. That he may &c.J Such is the reading of the quarto. Coxc- ter, who probaWy niisuiulrvstood it. ail:ipled it to his own iilras in tills juMverse and \apitl nuumer. antl \\as, ot course, lolloweil by Mr. M. Mason :

I^ay w(/ choicest linen.

Perfume the room, and xchen xic xcash, the xcnfcr ll'ith precious poxiders mix, to please ntij lord^ That he way kc.

' I do confer that jjiov idenci',] All the niodi'in editors read, ihat jirininee: and fliiis ilie\ keep up an eternal war a^flinsf. their author's laneied pi( iiliarities! — but inileed tlie uord is used by otiier writers, and precisely in the sense here required. 'J'hus Shirley in a very |)retty passage:

'•• liid\, > on an- wcleonie to the sj)ring; the park

*■' liOoks fifslier lo salute you : how tin- birds

^' On IV cry t ire sing w ilii more clicerrulness

" Al \ our a( ( f^s, as ii'lluy prophesied

" .Nature would die, and resign Uvv providence

" 'I'o you, fit to succeed her!" Jfijde Parh.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 531

For whicii I will eat often; and give thanks "When my belly's braced up like a drum, and

that's pure justice, [E.rit.

Over. It must be so: — should the foolish girl

prove modest, Sliemay spoil all; she had it not from me, But from her mother ; I was ever forward. As she must be, and therefore I'll prepare her.

Enter Margaret.

Alone — and let your women wait without.

Marg. Your pleasure, sir?

Over. Ha! this is a neat dressing ! These orient pearls and diamonds well placed

too ! The goM^n affects me not, it should have been Eiabroider'd o'er and o'er with flowers of gold ; But rhese rich jewels, and quaint fashion help it. And how below? since oft the wanton eye, The face observed, descends unto the foot. Which being well proportion'd, as yours is, Invites as much as perfect white and red, Thouii'h without art. How like you vour new

woman. The lady Downfallen ?

Marg. Well, for a companion; Not :i^ a servant.

Over. Is she humble, IMeg, And careful too, her ladyship forgotten?

Marg. I pity her fortune.

Over. Pity her ! trample on her. I took her up in an old tamin gown,''

* I took her up !'• an old tamin gozo.i.] Dodsley and Caxcfc: (Mr. M. Mason onl)' " f ilows as a f'ouud th.*.t iiils up the cry") nut knowing what t > make of this word, changed it 'viUi- out ceremony in.o latter d^ nay, without condescending to

AI m 2

532 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

(Even starved for want of twopenny chops,) to

serve tliee, And if I understand she hut repines To do thee any duty, thougli ne'er so servile, I'll pack her to her knight, where I have lodged

him, Into thecounter,and thereletthemhowl together.

Mar<f. You know your own ways, hut for nie, I blush When I command her, that was once attended Witli persons not inferiour to myself In birth.

Over. In birth ! M'hy, art thou not my daughter, The l)lest child of my industry and wealth? Why, foolish girl^ was't not to make thee great, Tliat I have run, and still pursue, those ways That hale down curses on me, which 1 mind not! Part w ith these humble thoughts, and apt thyself To the noble state i labour to advance thee; Or, by my hopes to see thee honourable, I will adoj)t a stranger to my heir, And throw thee from my care : do not provoke nie.

Marg;. I will not, sir; mould me M-hieh way you please.

Re-enter Greedy.

Over. IJow ! interrupted !

Greed}/. "Tis matter of importance. Tlie co(jk, sir, is self-will'd, and Mill not learn Prom my experience; there's a fawn brought in, sir,

notice tlic variation ! XKwi tamin is undoubtodly rie;lit; it is a roarsc linscy\\()oIsi'y stiiH', still word by tin- poor ol" (liis roiiii- Iry iimli-r llif iiunu- ot Idiniiiii or ratlier ttinnnj/; a rorriiiitioii, I suppose, oi itamitic, Vr. which lias thi- sann- iniMniii^. Thf an- nals ol literature do not afloid an instance of another writer so unworlliil} treated.

QQ

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 53

And, for my life, I cannot make him roast it With a Norfolk dumpling- in the belly of it ; And, sir, we wise men know, without the dumpling 'Tis not worth three-pence.

Over. Would it were whole in thy belly, To stuff it out ! cook it any way ; prithee, leave me.

Greedif. Without order for the dumpling ?

Over. Let it be dumpled Which way thou wilt; or tell him, I will scald him In his own caldron.

Greedy. I had lost my stomach Had I lost my mistress dumpling; Fll give thanks for't. {Exit.

Oxer. But to our business, INIeg ; you have heard who dines here ?

Marg. I have, sir.

Over. 'Tis an honourable man ; A lord, Meg, and commands a regiment Of soldiers, and, what's rare, is one himself, A bold and understanding one : and to be A lord, and a good leader, in one volume, Is granted unto few but such as rise up The kingdom's glory.

Re-enter Greedy.

Greedy. I'll resign my office, If I be not better obey'd.

Over. 'Slight, art thou frantick ?

Greedy. Frantick ! 'twould make me frantick, and stark mad. Were I not a justice of peace and quorum too, Which this rebellious cook cares not a straw for. There are a dozen of woodcocks

Over. Make thyself Thirteen, the baker's dozen.

03-i A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Greedy. I am contented, So they may he drfcss'd to my mind ; he has foinuJ

out "^ A new device for sauce, and will not dish them M'ith toasts and l)uttcr; my tatlicr was a t:iih)r, And my name, lliou.;h a jusUce, Gveed} Wood- cock ; And, ere I'll see \\\\ lineao'e so ahused, 1 11 jrive i'|) mv cojnmission.

-. I

O'ccr. Cook ! — Rogue, ohey him ! I ha\ e given the word, pray you now remove

Yourse.f To a collar of hrawn, and trouhle me no further. Greedy. I Mill, and meditate Mliat to eat at dinner. \Exit.

Oxer. And as I said, Meg, Mhen this gull dis- turb'd us, This lionourable lord, this colonel, I would have thy husband.

JSIarg. There's too much disparity Between his ciuality and mine, to hoj)e it.

Over. I more than hope, and douht not to eifect

Be thou no enemy to thyself; my Mcalth Sliall Mcigli his titles dow n, and make you ecjuals. Now for tlic means to assure him thine, observe me; Keiiuinbci- lie's a courtier, and a soldier, And not to be trilled w ilh ; and, therelbre, Mhen lie comes to woo you, see you do not coy it : This mincing niodesty has spoiPd many a match JW a first refusal, in vain after iH)|)ed for.

Miir^f. Yoifll lia\e me, sir, preserve I he distance that ('online^ a \irgin :

Over. \'ii"gln me no \ irgins ! I must ha\c you lose that nami', or you losi" me. I will havi- \()u pi i\ ate — .start not — 1 say, private:

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 535

If thou art my true daughter, not a bastard, Thou wilt venture alone with one man, though

he came Like Jujiiter to Semele, and come olf too ; And therefore, when he kisses you, kiss close.

Marg. I liave heard this is the strumpets' fashion, sir, Which I nuist never learn.

Over. Learn any thing. And from any creature that may make thee great ; From the devil himself.

Mani. This is but devilish doctrine !

Over. Or, if his blood grow hot, suppose he oner Beyond this, do not you stay till it cool, But meet his ardour; if a couch be near, Sit down on't, and invite him.

Marg. In your house, Your own house, sir 1 for heaven's sake, what are

you then ? Or what shall I be, sir ?

Over. Stand not on form ; W ords are no substances.

J\Iarg. Though you could dispense With your own 'honour, cast aside religion, The hopes of heaven, or fear of hell ; excuse me, In worldly policy this is not the way To make me his wife; his whore, I grant it may do. My maiden honour so soon yielded up. Nay, prostituted, cannot but assure him I, that am light to him, will not hold weight Whene'er^ tempted by others: so, in Judgment, When to his lust 1 have given up my honour, He must and will forsake me.

^ Whene'er tempted by others :~\ The quarto reads, When he is tempted &c. This is evidently wrong, but 1 am not sure that 1 have struck out the genu.iie reading. Dodsley. whom the others follow, omits kc in, which leaves a very iuharmonious lin«.

636 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Ch'e?\ How ! forsake thee ! Do I wear a sMord For f asliion ? or is this arm Shrunk up, or withered? does there live a mau Of that hiro-e list I have encouuter"d M'ith, Can truly say I e'er scave inch of ground Not purchased with his blood that did oppose me? Forsake thee, m hen the thing is done ! he dares

not. Give me but proof he has enjoy'd thy person. Though all his captains, echoes to his will, Stood arm'd by his side to iustifv the wrons:. And he himself in the head of his bold troop, Spite of his lordship, and his colonelship. Or the judge's favour, I Mill make him render A bloody and a strict accompt, and force him, By marrying thee, to cure thy wounded honour ! I have said it.

' Enter jVIaiuiall.

Mar. Sir, the man of honour's come, Newly ali^■hted.

Over. In, without reply ; And do as I command, or thou art lost.

[Edit Margaret. Is the loud musick I gave order for Ready to receive him ?

Mar. 'Tis, sir.

Over. Let them sound A princely welcome. Roughness awhile leave me; For fiw ning now, a stranger to my nature, Must make way for me.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS, 537

Loud musick. E/iter Lord hovELL, Greedy, Allworth, a7idMAiinALL.

Lov. Sir, 3^011 meet your trouble. Over. What you are pleased to style so, is an honour Above my worth and fortunes. Ail. Strange ! so humble. Over. A justice of peace, my lord.

[Presents Greedy to him, Lox). Your hand, good sir. Greedy. This is a lord, and some think this a favour ; But I had rather have my hand in my dumpling. Over. Room for my lord, Lov. I miss, sir, your fair daughter To crown my welcome.

Over. IVlay it please my lord To taste a glass of Greek wine first, and suddenly She shall attend my lord. LjOV. You'll be obey'd, sir.

[Exeunt all but Overreach. Over. 'Tis to iny wish: as soon as come, ask for her ! Why, Meg ! Meg Overreach ! —

Re-enter Margaret.

How ! tears in your eycsl Hah ! dry them quickly, or I'll dig them out. Is this a time to whimper? meet that greatness That flies into thy bosom, think what 'tis For me to say, My honourable daughter; And thou, when I stand bare, to say, Put on;^

♦ . Put ««;] i. e. be covered.

53S A NKW ^V\Y TO PA^ OI.l) DKinS.

Or, Father, voii forQ;et yourself. No more. But be instructed, or expect lie comes !

Rc-eutcr Lord hovELL, Greedy, Allm'ortii, aud

Marrall.

A black-brow 'd g'iri, my lord.

[Lord Love/ 1 salutes Margaret.

Lot. As I live, a rare one.

Alt. He's ta'en already : I am lost.

Over. That kiss Came twang-ing off, I like it; quit the room.

[E.reunt all but Oxer. Lov. and Marg. A little bashful, my good lord, but you, 1 h()|)e, Mill teach her boldness.

Lov. I am happy In such a scholar: but

Over. I am past learning, And therefore leave you to yourselves: remem- ))er. _ [Exit.

Lov. You see, fair lady, your father is solicitous To have you change the barren name of virgin Into a hoj)eful wife.

Marg. His haste, my lord. Holds no ])(jwer o'er my will.

L(jv. liut o'er vour dutv.

Jllarg. W'iiich, forced too much, ma}' break.

Lov. Bend rather, sweetest : Think ot" your years.

l\Lirg. Too few to match with yours; Antl choicest fruits too soon plucked, rot aniJ wither.

Low Do you think I am old ?

Mam;. I am sure I am too \()unij:.

Jjtv. I can advance you.

Alarg. ID a hill of sorrow ; M'hcrc every hour 1 may expect to fall,

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 539

13iit never hope iirm footing. You are noble, I of a low descent, however rich ; And tissues niatch'd with scarlet suit but ill. (), my good lord, I could say more, but that I dare not trust these walls.

Lov. Pray you, trust my ear then.

Re-enter Overreach behind, listening.

Over. Closeatit! whispering! thisisexcellcntl And, by their postures, a consent on both parts.

Re-enter Greedy lehind.

Greedy. Sir Giles, sir Giles ! Over. The great fiend stop that clapper ! Greedy. It must ring out, sir, when my belly rings noon. The baked-meats are run out, the roast turn'd powder. Over. I shall powder you. Greedy. Beat me to dust, I care not; In such ci cause as this I'll die a martyr.

Over. Marry, 'and shall, you barathrum of the shambles !* [Strikes him.

Greedy. How! strike a justice of peace ! 'tis petty treason

s Over. Marry^ and ihall, you liarathrum of the shambles!] Literally from Horace :

Pernicies et ttnipestas, barathruinqiie macoUi ! Barathntm is frequently used by our old poets in the classical sense of an abyss, or devouring; gulf: Thus Shiiley,

" You come to scour yuur maw with the good cheer " Which will be damu'd in your lean barathrum., " You kitchcn-stulldevourer !" The JFeddiiig.

I have not heard it observed that jMassinger has talcen a few tTa>s of the character of hii justice from ra^ilipho, in the old • comedy of t/.e KJupposta.

340 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Edzvardi qu'into : l)ut tliat you are my friend, I could couiniit you without bail or mainjjrize.

Over. Leave your bawling, sir, or I shall com- mit vou "Where vou shall not dine to day; disturb niv lord, ^Vhen he is in discourse !

Circcdi). Is't a time to talk When we should be munchino-?

Lov. Hall ! 1 heard some noise.

Ox<-'r. Mum, villain; vanish! shall Me break a baro-ain Almost made up ? [T/mists Greedy oJJ\

Lov. Ladv, I understand yon, And rest most hapj)y in your choice, believe it ; ni be a careful pilot to direct Your yet uncertain bark to a port of safety.

Marg. So shall your honour save two lives, and bind us Your slaves for ever.

Lov. I am in the act rewarded, Since it is good ; howe'er, you must j)ut on An amorous carriage towards me, to delude Your subtile fatber.

iMarg. I am prone to that.

Lov. Now i)reak Me off our conference, — Sir Ci iles ! Where it; sir Giles? [Overreach comes Joricard.

Re-e}iter Allmoutii, i\L\uiiAi.L, luul G weedy.

Over. ]My noble lord ; and how Does your lordship jind her?

Lov. Apt, sir (iiles, and coming; And I like b-r ibe better.

Over. So do I tcjo.

J.ov. Yet sbouid wt takeforts at the firstassault, 'Twere j)Oor in I he detendant ; I nuist confirm her M'itli a love-letter or l\\(t, m liicb I iiuisl have Deliver'd b\ my page, and you give way lo't.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 541

Over. With all my soul : — atowardly gentleman ! Your hand, good master Allworth; km)\vmy house Is ever open to you.

AIL 'Twas shut till now. {Aside.

Over. Well done, well done, my honourable daughter ! Thoa'rt soalready : know this gentle youth, And cherish him, my honourable daughter.

Marg. I shall, with my best care.

[Noise within, as of a coach.

Over. A coach !

Greedy. More stops Before we go to dinner ! O my guts \

Enter Lady Allavorth and Wellborn,

L. All. If I find welome, You share in it ; if not, I'll back again. Now I know your ends; for I come arm'd for all Can be objected.

Lov. How ! the lady Allworth !

Over. And thus attended !

[Lovell salutes Lady Allworth, Lady Alkvorth salutes Margaret.

Mar. No, I arii a dolt, The spirit of lies hath enter'd me.

Over. Peace, Patch ;* 'Tis more than wonder ! an astonishment Tbat does possess me wholly !

Lov. Noble lady, This is a favour, to prevent' my visit, The service of my life can never equal.

^ Over. J^cace, Patch ;] Vatch was the name of difool kept by cardinal Wolscy, and uho has deservedly had the honour of transmitting his appellation to a very numerous body of de- scendants ; he being, as Wilson observes in his Art of R/ie- torirjuc, 1553, " a nutuhlejooi in his time."

7 to prevent my X7i?V,] i. e. to anticipate it,

542 A NEW ^VAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

L. All. ls\y lord, I laid wait for you, and much hoped You would have mad 0 my poor liouse your first inn: And therefore douhtini'- that voumiiiht forget me. Or too long dwell here, having sulIi aniple cause. In this unec'uaird heautv. for your stay;- And fearing to trust any hut myself A\'ii'h the relation ol \\\\ service to vou, 1 horrowYl so much from my long restraint, And took the air in person to invite you.

Lov. Your bounties are so great, they I'ob UiC, madam. Of words to give you th inks.

L. AH. Good sir Giles Overreach. [Salutes him. — How dost thou, ]\Iarrall ? liked you my meat

so ill, You'll dine no more with me ?

Grecdi/. I will, m hen you please, An it like your ladyship.

L. AH. When you please, master Greedy ; If meat can do it, you shall he satisfied. And now, my lord, pray take into your knowledge This gentleman ; howe"er his outsiders coarse,

[Prtsciits ll'cllburn. lli^ inward linings are as fine and fair As any mans; wonder not I sjieak at large: And howsoe'er his humour carries him To he thus accoutred, or what taint soever I'tir ills w ild life hath stuck upon h.is fame, He may, nc long, with hoidncss. rank himscli A\'ith ^onle that have conlcnnfd him. Sir Giles

Ovcncacli, If I am welcome, hid him so.

Over. My ncj)hc\v ! He has been too l()nt>- a stranger: faitli vou liave, V\\\\ Kt it i)i' mended.

\_Loxcll cuiifLvrlni:; a.siik zcitU ll'illboDi.

A NEAV WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. ,545

Mar. Why, sir, what do you mean ? This is rogue Wellboru, monster, prodigy, That should hang or drown himself; no man of

worship. Much less your nephew.

Over. Well, sirrah, we shall reckon For this hereafter.

Mar. ril not lose my jeer, Though I he beaten dead for't.

JVdl. Let my silence plead In my excuse, my lord, till better leisure Offer itself to hear a full relation Of my poor fortunes.

Lov. I would hear, and help them.

Over. Your dinner waits you.

Lov. Pray you lead, we follow.

Z. AIL Nay, you are my guest ; come, dear master Wellborn. [Ed'tunt all but Grtedy.

Greedy. Dear master jVellborn ! So she said;

heaven ! heaven !

if my belly ^\ould give me leave, I could ruminate

All day on this: I have granted twenvy warrants

To have him committed, from ah prisons in the

shire, To Nottingham gaol ; and now, Dear master

Jl^ellborn ! And, My good nephew ! — l>ut I play the fool To stand here prating, and forget my dinner.

Re-enter IVLvrrall.

Are they set, Marrall ?

Mar. Long since ; pray you a word, sir.

Greedy. No wording now.

Mar. In troth, I must ; my master Kno^^'ing you are his good friend, makes bold with you,

ii44 A NE\y WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

And does entreat you, more guests being come in Than lie expected, especially his nepheM', The table bein<2: full too, you Mould excuse him, And sup with him on the cold meat.

GrtL'dy. How ! no dinner, After all my care ?

Mar. 'Tis but a penance for A meal ; besides, you broke your fast.

Greedy. That was But a bit to stay my stomach : a man in commission Give place to a tatterdemalion !

Mar. No bug' words, sir; Should his Morship hear you

Grctdi). Lose my dumpling too, And butter'd toasts, and woodcocks !

l\Iar. Come, have patience. If you will dispense a little with your worship, Antl sit willi the waiting women, you'll have

dumpling, AVoodcock, and butter'd toasts too.

Grcedi/. This revives me: I will gorge there sufficiently.

j\Iar. Uliis is the way, sir. [^Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Another Room in Overreach's House, ilnler Ovkkkkach, as from dinner.

Cyccr. She's caught ! O women ! — siie iieG:lects iii\' lord, And all her C()mj)linients apj)licd to W'ellboru ! 'J'he garments of her widow hood laid in',

* Mar. No biigTDOrr/.v, .s/r ;] i. c. no frij:li(fiil, trrrifick MOids: the wurd occurs in this sensi- in all our uld puuts.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 54J

Slie now a])pears as glorious as the spring*. Tier eyes lixVl on him, in tlie wine she drinks, He being- licr pledge, slie sends him burning

kisses, And sits on thorns, till she be private \vith him. She leaves my meat to feed upon his looks ; And if in our discourse he be but named, Erom her a deep sigh follows. But why grieve I At tliis ? it makes for me ; if she prove his. All that is her's is mine, as I will work him.

Enter Marrall.

Mar. Sir, the whole board is troubled at your risinir.

Over. No matter, I'll excuse it: prithee, jMarrall, Watch an occasion to invite my nephew To speak with me in private.

Alar. Who ! the rogue The lady scorn'd to look on ?

Over. You are a wag.

Enter Lady Allworth rt;z^/ Wellborx.

Mar. See, sir, she's come, and cannot be with- out him. X. All. With your favour, sir, after a plenteous dinner, I shall make bold to walk a turn or two In vour rare oarden.

Over. There's an arbour too. If your ladyship please to use it. L. All. Come, master Wellborn.

\Exeunt Lady Alkvorth and IVellhorn. Over. Grosser and grosser ! now I believe the poet Feign'd not, but was historical, when he AVrote VOL, III. Nn

546 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Pa.sij)hae was enamour\l of a bull :

This lady's lust's more monstrous. My good lord,

EfiU'r L(n-il hov ELL, IMargarkt, (uid tlit rest.

Excuse my manners.

Lov. There needs none, sir Giles, I may ere long say Father, when it pleases My dearest mistress to give warrant to it.

Over. She shall seal to it, my lord, and makr me lKij)j)y.

Re-enter Wellborx cnid Lady Allmortii.

Marg. My hidy is returned. L. jUI. Provide my coach, 1*11 instantly aAvay ; my thanks, sir Giles, For my entertainment.

Over. 'Tis your nobleness To think it such.

L. ytll. I must do vou a further wroni^. In taking away your honourable guest.

Luv. 1 wait on you, nuulam ; farewell, good

sir Criles. L. All. Good mistress Margaret; nay, come, master Wellborn, I nuist not leave }()u behind ; in sooth, 1 nuist not. Over. Rob me not, madam, of all joys at once; Let my nephew stay behind : he sliall liave my

coach, And, alter some small contereme hetween us, Soon overtake your lad} shi[). /.. -///. Slay not long, sir.

Lov. 'J'his j)arting kiss : [Kisses Afdn^aret.] you shall every day hear from me r>y m\ I'ailht'ul page.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 547

All. 'Tis a service I am proud of. {Exeunt Lord Lovell, Lady Allworth, AlkvGrtli, and Marrall. Ovei\ Daughter, to your chamber. — [Exit Mavr gnret.^ — You may wonder, nephew, After so long an enmity between us, I should desire your friendship.

JFell. So I do, sir ; 'Tis strange to me.

Over. But I'll make it no wonder; And what is more, unfold my nature to you. We worldly men, when we see friends, and kins- men. Past hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand To lift them up, but rather set our feet Upon their heads, to press them to the bottom ; As, I must yield, with you I practised it : But, now I see you in a way to rise, I can and will assist you ; this rich lady (And I am glad oft) is enamour'd of you ; 'Tis too apparent, nephew.

JFell. No such thing : Compassion rather, sir.

Over. Well, in 'a word. Because your stay is short, I'll have you seen No more in this base shape ; nor shall she say, She married you like a beggar, or in debt.

JFcll. He'll run into the noose, and save my labour. [Aside.

Over. You have a trunk of rich clothes, not far hence, In pawn ; I will redeem them ; and that no cla- mour JMay taint your credit for your petty debts. You shall have a thousand pounds to cut them

off, And go a free man to the wealthy lady.

N n 2

548 A NE\y ^VAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

JVell. This clone, sir, out of love, and no ends

else

Over. As it is, iicphcM'. Jlcll. l^inds nie still your servant. (h'tr. No compliments, you are staid for : ere you have supp'd You shall hear tVorn me. J\Iy coach, knaves, for

iny nephew ! To morrow I will visit you.

Jl\'ll. Here's an in'.ele In a man's extremes ! how much they tlo belie

That sa}' you are hard-hearted !

Over. i\Iy deeds, nephew, Shall speak my love; what men report I weii;h not. [E.eeunt.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

A Room in Ladij AlhvortlTs House. Enter Lord Lovkll imd Allwouth.

Lov. 'Tis well ; give me my cloak ; I now dis- charge you From further service : mind vour own aifairs, 1 lio])( ihcv will prove successful.

.///. W Ir.t is l;k-st With your good w ish, my lord, canmit hut |)r()s])er. Let aitcrtimes rep(/rt, and to your honour, How nuich 1 stai.d engaged, \\>v 1 want language 'i\) speak my diht ; yet ila tear or I wo or joy, for y(»ui" nuieh goodness, can sup[)ly ]My tongues cletecls, 1 could

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 54.9

Loi\ Nay, do not melt : This ceremonial thanks to me's superfluous. Over, \witkiti.'] Is my lord stirring? Lov. Tis he ! oh, here's your letter: let him in,

-E/?/er Ov^ERiiEACH, Greedy, and "Mawrai.!..

Over. A good day to my lord S

Lov. You are an early riser. Sir Giles.

Over. And reason, to attend your lordship.

Lov. And you, too, master Greedy, up so soon !

Greedy. In troth, my lord, after the sun is up I cannot sleep, for I have a foolish stomach Ihat croaks for breakfast. V/ith 3^our lordship's

favour, I liavc a serious question to demand Of my worthy friend sir Giles.

L^ov. Pray you use your pleasure.

Greed]/. How far, sir Giles, and pray you an- swer me Upon your credit, hold you it to be From your manor-house, to this of my lady Allworth''s ?

Over. Why, some four mile.

Greedij. How ! four mile, good sir Giles

Upon your reputation, think better; For if you do abate but one haVf quarter Ot five, you do yourself the greatest wrong- That can be in the world ; for four miles riding Could not have raised so huge, an appetite As I feel o'nawino' on me.

Mar Whether you ride, Or go afoot, you are that way still provided, An it please your worshi|).

Over. How noM^, sirrah ? prating Before my lord! no difference ! Go to my nephew,

550 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

See all his debts discharged, and help his worship To fit on liis rich suit.

JlLir. I may lit }'0u too. Toss'd like a dog still. [E.rif.

Lav, I have M^'it this morn ins: A few lines to my mistress, your fair daughter.

Over. "TMill fire her, for she's wholly your's

already :

Sweet master Allworth, take my ring ; "twill carry

you To her presence, I dare warrant you ; and there

plead For my good lord, if you shall fmd occasion. That done, pray ride to Nottingham, get a license, Still l)y this token. I'll have it dispatch'd, And suddenly, my lord, that I may say, My honourable, nay, right honourable daughter.

Grccdij. Take my advice, young gentleman, get your breakfast ; 'Tis unwholesome to ride fasting: Til eat Mith

And eat to purpose.

Over. Some Fury's in that gut : Hungry again ! did you not devour this morning A shield of brawn, and a barrel of Colchester oysters ? Circtdi). Why, that was, sir, only to scour my stonuich, A kind of a preparative. Come, gentleman, I will n<jt have you feed like the hangman of

lliisliing, Alone, while I am here. Jjn\ Haste your return. .III. I will iu)t tail, my lord. (irccdi/. Xor I to line M} Christmas coifer.

\_Excu)U Grccdi) and Jllworlli.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 551

Over. To my wish ; we are private. I come not to make offer with my daughter A certain portion, that were poor and trivial : In one word, I pronounce all that is mine, In lands or leases, ready coin or goods, A\'ith her, my lord, comes to you ; nor shall you

have One motive to induce you to believe I live too long, since every year I'll add Something unto the heap, Avhich shall be your's too.

Lov. You are a right kind father.

Over. You shall have reason To think me such. How do you like this scat ? It is well wooded, and well water'd, the acres Fertile and rich ; would it not serve for change To entertain your friends in a summer progress ? What thinks my noble lord ?

Lov. 'Tis a wholesome air. And well built pile; and she that's mistress of it Worthy the large revenue.

Over. She the mistress ! It may be so for a time : but let my lord Say only that he likes it, and would have it, I say, ere long 'tis his.

Lov. Impossible.

Over. You do conclude too fast, not knoAving me, Nor the engines that I work by. 'Tis not alone The lady Allworth's lands, for those once Well-

born's, (As by her dotage on him I know they will be,) Shall soon be mine ; but point out any man's In all the shire, and say they lie convenient And useful for your lordship, and once more I say aloud, they are your's.

Lov. I dare not own

55^ A NEW WAV TO PA\' OLD DEBTS,

"W'liat's by unjust and cruel means extorted ; My fame and credit arc more dear to me. Than so to expose tliem to l)e censured by Tlie pnljliek voice.

Over. \ ou run, my loid, no linzurd. Your reputation !^]Kiil stanri as fair In all <;-ood men's opinions as now ; Nor can my actions, tbouj^li concb^nm'd for ill, Cast any foul aspersion upmi your's. For, though I do contemn rei)ort n.yself. As a mere sound, I still will be so tender Of what concerns you, in all points of honour, That the immaculate whiteness of your fame, Nor your uncjuestioned integrity, Siiall e'er be sullied with one taint or spot That may take from your innocence and candour. All mv and^ition is to liave mv dauuhter Rii>ht honourable, which my lord can make her: And mi<>:ht I live to dance uijon my knee A young lord Lovell, born by her unto you, I write /lil ultra to my proudest lu^pes. As for ])ossessions, and annual rents, E(juivalent to nuiiiit;ii;i you in the port Your noble birth and |jrcsent state re(|uires, I do remove that burthen from your shoulders, And take it on nunc ow n : loi, though I ruin The country to supply your riotous waste, The scourge of j)rodigals, want, sludl nc\cr find

Low Areyounot flighted with the imprecations And curses of whole families, made wretched liy your siuisler practices?

Over. Yes, as rocks are, Wiien foani}- billows s|<lit themselves against 'I'heii" iliiily lib^; oi-aslhc iiidon i^ mo\cd, When wolves, with hunger jjined, howl ;it her brightness.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 55

I am of a solid temper, aiifl, like these, Steer on a constant coarse : with mine own sword, ' It' caird into tiie lield, I can make that right Which fearful enemies murmur'd at a^ wrong. Now, for these other piddling complaints Breath'd out in bitterness; as when they call me Extortioner, tyrant, cormorant, or intruder On n^y poor neigh i^our's right, or grand incloser Of what was common, to my private use ; Nay, when my ears are pierced with widows' cries, And undone orphans wash with tears my threshold, I only think what 'tis to have my daughter Right honourable ; and 'tis a powerful charm Makes me insensible of remorse, or pity, Or the least st'ins: of conscience.

Lov. I admire The toughness of your nature.

Over. 'Tis for 3'ou, My lord, and for my daughter, I am marble-; Nay more, if you will have my character In little, I enjoy more true delight In my arrival to my wealth these dark And crooked ways, than you shall e'er take

pleasure In spending what my industry hath compass'd. My haste commands me hence ; in one word,

therefore, Is it a match ?

Lov. I hope, that is past doubt now.

Over. Then rest secure; not the hate of all

mankind here,' Nor fear of what can fall on me hereafter, S'liall make me studv auo-ht but vouradvanccment One story hjgher : an earl ! if gold can do it.

^ '- ■ not the hate of all mankind here,] I

Icnow not ^vlly the modern, editors oinit here; not only the ill) thni but the sense is improved by its restoration.

5J4 A \EW WAY TO TAY OLD DEBTS.

Dispute not my religion, nor my faith ; Thouu'li I am born thus lieacHono- by my will, You may make choice of Avhat belief you please, To me thcv arc e(jual; so, my lord, ""ooil morrow.

[Kult. Lot. He's gone — I A\oncIcr how the earth can bear Such a port^'iit ! 1, that have lived a soldier, And stood the enemy's violent charge undaunted. To hear this blasphemous beast am bath'd all over In a cold swx^at : yet, like a mountain, he (Conlirm'd in atheistical assertions) Is no more shaken than Olympus is A\'hcn angry 13oreas loads his double head' A\'ith sudden drifts of snow.

Enter Lady Allworth, Waiting ^\'oman, and

Amble.

L. All. Save you, my lord ! Disturb I not your privacy ?

Lov. No, good madam ; For your own sake I am glad you came no sooner : Since this bold bad man, sir Giles Overreach, Made such a plain discovery of himself, And read this morning such a (U\ ilish matins, That I should think it a sin next to his Ikit to repeat it.

/.. ////. I ne'er press'd, my lord. On others privacies: vet, ai>"ainst mv Mill,

tliiin 01} nipiis /t

II Inn (iiign/ nurrus loads /lix duubli- luad

Wi(/i sudiUn drifts of xiiou\^ Kithrr Massini;cr, or his tran- scriber, has iirf^takt'ii Ohtnpus for l*ariias>iis : it may be (he fortncr, for, in tru^tiiiti to their iiiemoiy, such slips are not unusual in our old nrilers, uho were indeed liuic buiicituitii of atcuraey in these trivial uiuttcrtt.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 555

AValking, for healtli sake, in the gallery Adjoining- to your lodgings, I was made (So vehement and loud he was) partaker Of his tempting offers.

Lov. Please you to command Your servants hence, and I shall gladly hear Your wiser counsel.

L. All. Tis, my lord, a woman's, But true and hearty ; — wait in the next room, But be within call ; yet not so near to force me To whisper my intents.

Amb. We are taught better By you, good madam.

JVoman. And well know our distance. L. All. Do so, and talk not; 'twill become your breeding. [E.veunt Amble and JVoman.

Now, my good lord : if I may use my freedom,

As to an honour'd friend

Lov. You lessen else '

Your favour to me.

L. All. I dare then say thus ; As you are noble (howe'er common men Make sordid wealth the object and sole end Of their industrious aims) 'twill not agree With those of eminent blood, who are engaged More to prefer their honours, than to increase The state left to them by their ancestors. To study large additions to their fortunes. And quite neglect their births : — though I must

grant. Riches, well got, to be a useful servant, But a bad master.

Lov. Madam, 'tis confess'd ; But what infer you from it ?

L. All. This, my lord ; That as all wrongs, though thrust into one scale, Slide of themselves off, when right fills the other,

356 A NEW ^yAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

And cannot bitic tlie trial; so all M'^^'iltli, I mean if iii acquired, cemented to honour Jby virtuoiis ways achieved, and bravely pur- chased, Is but as rubbish pour"d into a river, (IJoue'cr intended to ihake good the bank,) Kendering* the water, tliat v, as pure before, Polluted and unwholesome. 1 allow The heir of sir Giles Overreach, Margaret, A maid well qualified, and the richest match Our north part can make boast ot; yet she cannot, With all that she brings witi) her, lill their mouths. That never will forget who was her father; Or that ii'.y husband All worth's lands, and Well- bora's, (How wrung from both needs now no repetition,) Were real motives that UiOie work'dyour lordship To ioin voiir famili*. s, than her form and virtues : You may conceive the rest.

Lov. I do, sw ect madam. And long since have considered it. I know, The sum of all that makes a just mail haj)py Consists in tlie mcU choosing of his ■\\'ife : And there, well to discharge it, does rc(juire E(piality of years, of birth, of fortune; Eor beauty being poor, and not cried up J]v b'uth or wealtii, can truly mix with neither. And weallli, where there's such dilference in

years. And fair descent, must make the yoke uneasy : — jhit I come nearer.

/>. .1//. J*ia\' v(ni do, mv lonk

Lui. Were ()\'encacir states thrice (•cntu[)h'(l, his dauirlitcr ^Millions of degrees much fairer than she is, Ilowe'er I niigiit urge precedents to excuse mc,. I would not so adulterate my jjlood

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 557

By marrying IMargaret, and so leave my issue Made up of several pieces, one part scarlet And the other London blue. Li my ov/n tomb I will inter my name first.

L. All. I am glad to hear this. [Aside.

Why then, my lord, pretend your marriage to her? Dissimidation but ties false knots On that straight line by which you hitherto Have measured all your actions.

Lov. I make ansM^er, And aptly, with a question. Wherefore have you, That, since your husband's death, have lived a strict And chaste nun's life, on the sudden given yourself To visits and entertainments? think you, madam, 'Tis not grown publick conference ? or the fa- vours Which you too prodigalh^ have thrown on

Wellborn, Being too* reserved before, incur not censure?

L. All, I am innocent here, and, on my life, I swear My ends are good.

Lov. On my soul, so are mine To ]Marga! et ; but leave both to the event : And since this friendly privacy does serve But as an offerVl means unto ourselves To search each other further, you having shewn Your care of me, I, my respect to you ; Deny me not, but still in chaste words, madam, An afternoon's discourse.

L. All. So I shall hear you. [Eji'eimf.

* Being too reserted before,~\ This is the reading of the quarto, and evidently genuine : it docs not however satisfy Mr. M. Mason ; Avho gives us, on his Qwn authority, Being so re- scncd be/ore !

oJS A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

SCENE II.

Before TapwclTs House. Kn ter Tat av f. l l ^ / // ^/ F r o t h .

Jap. Undone, undone ! this was your counsel, Froth. . Froth. Mine! I defy thee: did not master

Marnill (He has marr'd all, I am sure) strictly command

lis, On pain of sir Giles Ovcrreacli' displeasure, To turn the gentleman out of doors?

7ap. 'Tis true ; l>ut now he's his uncle's darling, and has got Master justice Greedy, since he i\\\\\ his belly, At his commandment, to do any thing ; M'oe, woe to us !

Froth. He may prove merciful.

Tap. Troth, we do not deserve it at his hands. Though he knew all the passages of our house, As the receiving of stolen goods, and bawdry, \\ hen he was ro<>ue Wellborn no man would be-

liivc- him, And then his information could not hurt us; iiUt now he is right worshipful again, Who dares but doubt his testimony? methinks 1 see thee. Froth, already in a cart l''or a close bawd, thine eyes even pelted out With dirt and rotten eggs; and my hand hissing, ir 1 s(.a|)t- I 111- hallci', with the letter K Frinti'd upon it .

Froth. WOuid that were the worst! TJiat were but iiiiu' da) > wonder; as for credit

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 5

o:

We have none to lose, but we shall lose the money He owes us, and his custom; there's the hell on't. Tap. He has summon'cl all his creditors by the drum, And they swarm about him like so many soldiers On the pay day; and has found out such a new

WAY

To PAY HIS OLD DEBTS, as 'tis vcry likely He shall be chronicled for it !

Froth. He deserves it More than ten pageants/ But are you sure his

M^orship Comes this way to my lady's ? ,

[^ cry within : Brave master Wellborn i Tap. Yes: — I hear him.

Froth. Be ready with your petition, and present it To his good grace.

E7ite?'W ELhBORHi in a rich habit, follozced bi/MARn~ ALL, Greedy, Order, Furnace, and Credi- tors; Tapwell kneeling, delivers his petition.

JFell. How's this ! petition'd too ?-

But note what m'iraclcs the payment of

^ ''tis very likdt/

He shall be chronicledyor it !

Froth. He deserves it More than ten pagonts.] This is a pleasant allusion to the minute industry with which Holingshead, Stowe, Baker, and the

other chroniclers of those times, collected every unimportant event and individual history, to swell their useful but desultory pages:

" 1 more voluminous should grow " Chiefly if I, like them, should tell *' All kind of weather that befel,

" Than Holingshead or Stowe." Cou,lcy.

The reply of Froth is sarcastically aimed at the perverse pains bestowed by the former of these writers on the ridiculous mum- mery, under the name of pageants, which the city was in the iiabit of exhibiting on every publick occasion.

560 A NEW WAV TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

A little tnisli, and a rich suit of clotlies Can work upon these rascals ! I shall be, I think, prince M'ellborn.

j\Iar. When your worshij)'s married You may he: — I know what I hope to see you.

//<■//. Then look thou for advancement.

Jllar. To be known Your worshi[)'s baililf is the mark I shoot at.

//>//. And tliou shalt hit it.

Alar. Pray you, sir, disj^atch These needy followers, and for my admittance, Provided you'll defentl me from sir Ciilcs, Whose service I am Meary of, Til say something- Vou shall ij-ive thanks for.

/I ell. ]\ar me not sir Giles.'*

Grci'di/. Who, TapwelP I remember thy m ifc brought me, Last new-year's tide, a couple of fat turkies.

7'ap. And shall do every Christmass let your "vvorshij) But stand mv friend now,

Crni'di). How! \\ith master Wellborn? I can tlo anv thin<)- with him on such terms. — See you this honest couple, the}' are good souls As e\er drew out fosset: have ihev not A ]Kiir of honest faces ?

//('//. I o'erheard you, And the bribe he promised. Vou arc cozen'd in them ;

* Yint s/iall give t/ianlis fur.

NN ill. liar nu* 7i(il .>/> CHlcs.'] So llio quarlu. The iiiodcni riliturs rtad :

Vou .s/idl/ i^ixf iiK' tluink.sjur. N\ til. I i:ar not^ air (H/ts. AV liK li is nii( iiictri': Ixit |Im>v piohiihl) did not iindorstaiid tlii' |)lirascolonv of llu> last linuisticli, wiiirli is a (lallicism to \)r loiiiid ill cvny w lilcr 'if Ma-,',iiii;c'i"s Uiiic l-'or tluir iii^crtiuii oV wjt iit the luiiiKT 1 cauuul luctciid tu utcuuiil.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 56l

For, of all the scum that o-rew rich by my riots, This, for a most unthankful knave, and this, I'or a base bawd and whore, have worst deserved

me,* And therefore speak not for them: by your place You are rather to do me justice; lend me your

ear : — Forget his turkies, and call in his license, And, at the next fair, FU give you a yoke of

oxen Worth all his poultry.

Greedij. I am changed on the sudden In my opinion! come near; nearer, rascal. And, now I view him better, did you e'er see One look so like an archknave? his very coun- tenance, Should an understanding judge but look upon him, Would hang him, though he were innocent. Tap. Froth. Worshipful sir. Greedy. No, though the great Turk came, in- stead of turkies. To beg my favour, I am inexorable. Thou hast an ill name: besides thy musty ale, That hath destroyed many of the king's liege

people, Thou never hadst in thy house, to stay men's

stomachs, A piece of Suffolk cheese, or gammon of bacon, Or any esculent, as the learned call it. For their emolument, but sheer drink only. For which gross fault I here do damn thy license, Forbidding thee ever to tap or draw ; For, instantly, I will in mine own person

* have tiorst deserved me, J Here again,

from ignorance of the language, the last word is thrown out. Such editors!

VOL. III. O O

562 A NEW ^\'AV TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Command tlie constable to pull down thy sign, And do it bt-fore I eat.

Froth. Xo mercy !

Gi'eedtj. \'anibh ! If I shew any, may my promised oxen gore me !

Tap. Unthankful knaves are ever so rewarded. [Edru/it (rrccdj/, 7'apicc//, and FrotJi.

/re//. Speak ; what are you?

1 Cred. A decay'd \ intner, sir, That mii»;ht have thri\e(l, but that your worship

broke me With trustin<»" vou with muskadine and e<i"i»\s, And five-pound supj)ers, with your after drinkings, Wlien you lodged upon tlie liankside.

I ft//. I remember.

1 Cri(/. I have not been hastv, nor e'er laid to

arrest you ; And til ere fore, sir —

fi'e//. Tiiou art an honest fellow, I'll set thee up again; see his l)ill paid. What are you ?

2 C/'td. A tailor once, but now mere botcher. I gave you credit for a suit of clothes,

M'hich was all my stock, but you failing in pay- ment, I was removed from the shop-board, and confined Under a stall.

//(.'//. See him paid; and botch no more.

2 ('red. I a>.k no interest, sir,

//(•//. Such tailors need not; If their bilU are j)aid in one and twenty year They are seldom losers. — (), I know thy face, Thou wcit my surgeon: \<)u must I ell no tales; Those days are done. 1 w ill pay you in private.

())•(/. A roval «rentleman !

J'ur/i. Royal as an emperor !

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 563

He'll prove a brave master; my good lady knew To choose a man.

irelL See all men else discharg'd ; And since old debts are clear'd by a new way, A little bounty will not misbecome me ; There's something, honest cook, for thy good

breakfasts, And this for your respect; take't, 'tis good gold, And I able to spare it.

0?y/. You are too munificent. Ftirn. He was ever so. // e//. Pray you, on before. 3 Crcd. Heaven bless you ! Alar. At four o'clock the rest know where to meet me.

[E.rcunt Order, Furnace, a?id Creditors. JVell. Now, master Marrall, what's the weighty secret You promised to impart?

iMar. Sir, time nor place Allow me to relate each circumstance, This only in a word ; I know Sir Giles Will come upon you for security For his thousand- pounds, which you must not

consent to. As he grows in heat, as I am sure he will, Be you but rough, and say he's in your debt Ten times the sum, upon sale of your land ; I had a hand in't (I speak it to my shame) When you were defeated of it. fFell. That's forgiven.

Mar. 1 shall deserve it ; then urge him to produce The deed in which you pass'd it over to him, Which I know he'll have about him to deliver To the lord Lovell, with many other writings, And present monies : I'll instruct you further,

O o 2

564 A NEW \\'AY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

As I wait on your worship : itT play not my prize To your full content, and your uncle's much

vexation, PJano- up Jack Marrall.

JlelL I rely upon thee. [ErcinU.

SCENE IIL A Room in Overreach's House. Enter Allwouth (Uid MAROAPvi-.T.

All. Whether to vield the first praise to mv lord's UnequaU'dtemperance,oryour constant sweetness. That I yet live, mv weak hands fasten'd on Hojje's anchor, spite of all storms ot despair, I yet rest douhtful.

Marg. Give it to lord Lovell ; For what in him was hounty, in mc's duty. I make hut j)aymeut of a deht to which ]\Iy vows, in that hii>h office resjister'tl, Are faithful witnesses.

////. 'Tis true, my dearest ; Yet, w hen 1 call to mind how many fair ones Make wilful shipwreck of their faiths, and oaths To (i(jd aiul man, t<> fdl the arms of greatness ; And you rise ui) no U ss than a irlorious star' To the amazenicnl of" the world, — that hoKl out Ai^ainst the stern auliiority of a fathei', And sj)urn at honour, a\ hen it comes to court you ;

** if I phtii not mil prize J This expression is fre-

<|U(-iitly found in our old « liters, ^ et tlu" modern editors wan- toidy t(trrii|.t it here and iImw here into — // I jilai/ iiu/ iinj part.

7 Andifdii rise ii/t i>o /ts.i than a glorious star \ No, which is not foutid ill the (|Uiir(o, was judiciously inserted b_v Dodsley.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 565

I am so tender of your good, tliat faintly, With your wrong, lean wish myself that right You yet are pleased to do me.

Alarg. Yet, and ever. To me what's title, when content is wanting ? Or M'ealth, raked up together with much care, And to be kept with more, when the heart pines, In being dispossessed of what it longs for Beyond the Indian mines? or the smooth brow Of a pleased sire, that slaves me to his will ; And so his ravenous humour may be feasted By my obedience, and he see me great, Leaves to my soul nor faculties nor power To make her own election ?

AIL But the dans-ers That follow the repulse —

Marg, To me they are nothing : Let AUworth love, I cannot be unhappy. Suppose the worst, that, in his rage, he kill me ; A tear or two, by you dropt on my herse, In sorrow for my fate, will call back life So far as but to say, that I die yours ; I then shall rest in peace : or should he prove So cruel, as one death would not suffice His thirst of vengeance, but with lingering tor- ments, In mind and body, I must waste to air, In poverty join'd with banishment; so you

share In my afflictions, which I dare not wish you, So high I prize you, I could undergo them W^ith such a patience as should look down With scorn on his worst malice.

All. Heaven avert Such trials of your true affection to me ! Nor will it unto you that are all mercy, Shew so much rigour: but since we must run

566 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Such desperate l^c^zar(ls, let us do our best To steer between them.

jllarg. Your kud's ours, and sure ; And though but a young actor, second me In doing to the life what he has plotted,

Efife?' Overreach behind.

The end may yet prove happy : now, my Allworth.

Jll. To your letter, and put on a seeming anger.

3Iar(i\ I'll pay my lord all debts due to his title: And when with terms, not taking IVom his

honour, He does solicit me, I shall gladly hear him. But in this peremptory, nay, commanding way, T' appoint a meeting, and, without my knowledge, A priest to tie the knot can ne'er l)e undone Till death unloose it, is a conlidence In his lordship will deceive him.

y///. I hope better, Good lady.

Marg. Hope, sir, what yon please: forme I must take a safe and secure course ; I have A father, and without his full consent. Though all lords of the land kneel'd for my lavour, I can grant nothing.

Oitr. I like this obedience : [Comes J'oncard. But whatsoe'er my loid writes, must and sliall be Accepted and (inbraced. Sweet master Allwoilli, You;^hew yourself a true and faithful servant To your good lord ; he has a Jewel of you. How ! frowning, Meg'- are tbcse looks to recei\'e A messentccr from my lord ;' w bat's this? t>i\i'ni<' it.

jMarg. A jjiece of arrogant paper, like the in- scriptions.

( )\<'r. ( l\t(i(ls.\ I'dir nihtrcss,frum your scrcant Icarn^ a// joi/s

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 567

That wc con hope for, if defcrrd, prove toys ; T}ierejore this instant, and in private, mbet A husband, that zvill gladly at your feet Lay doicn his Itonours, tendering them to you IVith all content, the church being paid her due. — Is this tlie arrogant piece oi' paper ? fool ! Will you still be oner in the name of niadneps,

M'hat Could his good honour write more to content you? Is there aught else to be wislf d after these two, That are already offer'd ; marriage first, And lawful pleasure after: M'hat would you more? Marg. Wh}^, sir, I would be married like your

daughter ; Not hurried away i' the night I know not whither, Without all ceremony ; no friends invited To honour the solemnity.

All. An 't please your honour, For so before to morrow I must style you, My lord desires this privacy in respect His honourable kinsmen are far off, And his desires to have it done brook not So long delay as to expect their coming ; And yet he stands resolved, with all due pomp. As running at the ring, plays, masks, and tilting, To have his marriao;e at court celebrated When he has brought your honour up to London. Over. He tells you true; 'tis the fashion, on

my knowledge : Yet the good lord, to please your peevishness,* Must put it off, forsooth ! and lose a night,

* Yet the good lord, to phase your peevishness,] i. e. you ; his daughter, to whom he gives the title. I have som. times thought that this mode of expression, which is more common than cur- sory readers, pcrliaps, imagine, is not suiricicntly attended to by the commentators. Many dilhculties would vanish if these ap- pellations were duly noticed, and applied.

568 A NEW A\'AY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

In which perliaps he niiL;ht get two boys on thee. Tempt nic no further, it' you do, this goad Shall prick you to him.

iMiirg. I couhl be contented, Were you but by, to do a fatlier's part. And give me in the church.

0\'f)\ So my k)rd have you, AMiat do I care who gives you? since my k)rd Does purpose to be private. Ell nut cross him. I know not, master Allworth, how my lord May be provided, and therefore there's a purse Of gold, 'twill serve this night's expense ; to

morrow Ell liirnish him witli any sums: in tlie mean time^ L'^se mv ring to my chaplain; he is beneficed At my manor of Got'em, and calfd parson Willdo: 'Tis no matter ior a license, Ell bear him out in't.

JiJar-i'. Witli your favour, sir, w hat Avarrant is your ring r He may suppose I got that twenty ways, Witliout your knowledge ; and then to be refused, AVcre such a stain upon me ! — if you pleased, sir. Your presence Mould do better.

Over. Still perverse ! I say again, 1 will not cross my lord; Yet Ell prevent you too.' — Paper and ink, there !

yli/. 1 can furnish you.

Over. I thank \(mi, I can Mrite tlicn. \Jf rites

All. \'()\.i ma}', if you please, put out the name of my lord. In ri'spcct he comes disguised, and only write, AEirry her to this <>entlcinan.

Over. ^\ ell adx ised. Tis done ; away ! — [Margaret kneels.^ my blessing, i^iil? thou hast it.

'' )'it I'll pirvcnf iiDii tito.^ From (lie l.aliii, n> I have alri'.Kly obsi'jvrd. I'll aiificij)a(c ull your oi)joclioiis.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 669

Nay, no reply, be gone: — good master All worth, This shall be the best night's work you ever made.

All. I hope so, sir.*

[E.veimt Alhvorth and Margaret,

Over. Farewell ! — Now all's cocksure : IMethinks I hear already knights and ladies Say, Sir Giles Overreach, how is it with Your honourable daughter? has her honour Slept well to night? or, Will her honour please To accept this monkey, dog, or paroqucto, (This is state in ladies) or my eldest son To be her page, and wait upon her trencher? My ends, my ends are compass'd ! — then for

Wellborn And the lands ; were he once married to the

Avidow

I have him here — I can scarce contain myself, I am so full of joy, nay, joy all over. [^E.vit.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A Room in Lady AUworth's House. Enter Lord LoYELL, Lady Allwortu, and Amble.

L. All. By this you know how strong the mo- tives were That did, my lord, induce me. to dispense

' All. / /lopr so, .«>.] I cannot much approve of the conduct of this >oung couple; it is too full of artiiico and deceit. Un- doubtedly the insupportable \miie and tyranny of Overreach make him a proper subject to he practised on ; but not by his d.iualiter, whose character has been hitherto so conducted as to gain the esteem of every reader.

570 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

A little with my grav'ity, to advance,

111 {)ersonatin2^ some few favours to him,

The plots and projects of the down-trod Wellborn.

Nor shall I e'er repent, although I suffer

In some iew men's opinions for't, the action ;

For he that ventured all for mv dear husband,

]\Iight justly claim an obligation from me,

To pay him such a courtesy ; which had I

Coyly, or over-curiously denied.

It might have argued me of little love

To the deceased.

Lov. What you intended, madam, For the poor gentleman, hath found good success; For, as I understand, his debts are paid, And he once more furnish'tl for fair employment : But all the arts that I have used to raise The fortunes of your joy and m ine, young Alhvorth, Stand yet in supposition, though I hope well. For the young lovers arc in wit more pregnant Than theiry ears can promise; and forthcir tlesires, On my knowledge, they are ecjual.

L. All. As^ my m ishes Are with yours, my lord ; yet give mc leave to fear The building, though well grounded : to deceive Sir Ciiles, that's both a lion and a fox In his proceedings, were a work beyond The strongest undertakers ; not the trial Of two weak innocents.

Low Despair not, madam : Hard thintrs are compass'd oft bv easy means: And judgment, being a gift derived from hea\en, Thouiib sometimes lodLTcd in the heartsol" w orldl v

men, That ne'er consider from whom ibc} receive it,

* As w\i xiisfirs fic."] As is cliaiiiii'd in both (lie inndrni rdi- tions into '/'/itiii:^/i^ lor no Jx'Urr rrasnn. I bplj<>\o, tluit tliul the tditora did not discover the sense ol a plain pab^iago.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 571

Forsakes such as abuse the giver of it. W'hich is the reason, that the politick And cunniniT statesman, that believes he fathoms The counsels of all kinodoms on the earth, Is by simplicity oft over-reach'd.'

L. AIL May he be so ! yet, in his name to express it Is a good omen.

Lov. May it to myself Prove so, good lady, in my suit to you ! What think you of the motion ?

L. All. Troth, my lord, My own unworthiness may answer for me ; For had you, when that I Mas in my prime, My virgin flower uncropp'd, presented me With this great favour ; looking on my lowness Not in a glass of self-love, but of truth, I could not but have thought it, as a blessing Far, far beyond my merit.

Lov. You are too modest, And undervalue that which is above ]\Iy title, or whatever I call mine. I grant, were I a Spaniard, to marry A widow might disparage me; but being A true-born Englishman, I cannot lind How it can taint my honour : nay, what's more, That which you think a blemish, is to me The fairest lustre. You already, madam, Have given sure proofs how dearly you can cherish A husband that deserves you ; which confirms me, That, if I am not wanting in my care To do you service, you'll be still the same

^ Is by mnplicity oft ovcr-reach'd.] The quarto reads, and perhaps by design, to make the allusion more striking, over- reach For the rest, the observation is a most admirable one, and worthy of all praise. It may serve to explain many fancied inconsistencies in the conduct of the Overreaches in all ages.

572 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

That you were to your All worth : in a word, Our years, our states, our births are not uneciuai, You beini^ descended nobly, and allied so ; If then you may be won to make me happy. But join your lips to mine, and that shall be A solemn contract.

L. All. I were blind to my own good, Should I refuse it ; yet, my lord, receive me As such a one, the study of whose whole life Shall know no other object but to please you.

Lov. If I return not, with all tenderness, Equal respect to you, may I die wretched !

L. All. There needs no protestation, my lord. To her that cannot doubt.

Enter Wellborn.

You are welcome, sir. Now you look like yourself.

J Fell. And will continue Such in my free acknowledgment, that I am Your creature, madam, and will never hold I\Iv life mine own, when you please to command it.

Lor. It is a thankfulness that well becomes

}

ou:

You could not make choice of a better shape To dress your mind in.

L. All. For nic, I am ha|)py That my endeavours prosper'd. Saw you of late Sir (liles, your uncle ?

Hell. I heard of hiiw, madam, Bv bis minister, Manall ; he's grown into strange

])as.sions About liis daughti r : this last night he look'd lor Your lordship at his lionse, but missing you, And she not yet appearing, his wise head Is nuich perplexed and troubled.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 573

L(w. It may be, Sweetheart, my project took.

L. All. I strongly hope.

Ovtr. [zvithhi.] Ha ! find her, booby, thou huge lump of nothing, I'll bore thine eyes out else.

/re//. May it please your lordship, For some ends of mine own, but to withdraw^ A little out of sight, though not of hearing, You may, perhaps, have sport.

Lov. You shall direct me. [Steps aside.

Enter Overreach, with distracted looks, driving in Marrall before him, with a box.

Over. I shall sol fa you, rogue 1

Mar. Sir, for what cause Do you use me thus ?

Over. Cause, slave ! why, I am angry, And thou a subject only fit for beating, And so to cool my choler. Look to the writing; Let but the seal be broke upon the box, That has slept in my cabinet these three years, ril rack thy soul for't.

Mar. I may yet cry quittance. Though now I suffer, and dare not resist. [Aside.

Over. Lady, by your leave, did you see my daughter, lady ? And the lord her husband? are they in your

house ? If they are, discover, that I may bid them joy ; And, as an entrance to her place of honour. See your ladyship on her left hand, and make courtsies'*

* and make courtsics

When she nods on you;'] So th(^ old copy. Coxcter and Mr. M. Mason strangely read — and make court !

o74 A NEW MMY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Wlien slie nods on you; wliicli you must receive As a special favour.

Z. All. ^\'hcu I know, sir Giles, Her state retiuires such ceremony, 1 sliall pay it ; But, in tlie mean time, as 1 am myself, I give you to understand, I neither know Nor care where her honour is.

Over. When you once see her Supported, and led by the lord her l)usband,

You'll be taught better. Nephew.

irdl. Sir. Over. No more ! Hell. "Tis all I owe you. Over. Have your redeemM rags INIade you thus insolent? ll'tll. Insolent to you ! "Why, what are you, sir, unless in your years, At the best, more than myself? Over. His fortune swells him: 'Tis rank, he's married. /.. All. This is excellent !

Over. Sir, in calm language, though I seldom use it, I am familiar with the cause that makes you Bear uj) thus bravely ; there's a certain buz Of a stolen marriage, do you hear? of a stolen

marriage, In \\liich 'tis said there's somebody hath been

cozen'd ; I name no parties

Hell. Well, sir, and what follows? Over. Many, this; since you are j)eremj)t(jry : remember, Upon mere hope of your great match, 1 lent you A thousand jxjunds : |)ut me in good security. And siiddeidy, by mortgage or by statute. Of some (»f \ 'Mir new ()ossessions, or I'll have you

A NEW ^yAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 515

Dragged in your lavender robes* to tlic gaol : you

know^ me, And therefore do not trifle.

Wdl. Can you be So cruel to your nephew, now he's in The way to rise ? was this the courtesy \ ou did me in pure love, and no ends else ?

Over. End me no ends ! engage the whole estate, And force your spouse to sign it, you shall have Three or four thousand more, to roar and swagger, And revel in baM'^dy taverns.

JFelL And beg after ; Mean you not so ?

Over. My thoughts are mine, and free. Shall I have security ?

J Fell. No, indeed you shall not. Nor bond, nor bill, nor bare acknowledgment; Your o-reat looks frio-ht not me.

Over. But my deeds shall. Outbraved ! [Both draw.

L. All. Help, murder ! murder !

, Enter Servants.

JVell. Let him come on, With all his wrongs and injuries about him, Arm'd with his cut-throat practises to guard him ; The right that I bring with me will defend me, And ])unish his extortion.

5 Dragg'd in your lavender robes to the gaol : ] i. e.

your clothes which have been just redeemed out of pawn. (See p. 347.) Tb lay ,a thing in lavender was a cant phrase lor pcnvning it. Thus, in Green's Quippc fur an upstart Cuurticr, c. 3^ — " There is he ready to lend the looser money upon rings and chains, apparel, or any good pawne., but the poore gentleman paics so deare lor the laxendcr it is laid up in^ that if it lie long at the broker's house, he seems to buy his apparel twise." The expression is also used by Jonson, and indeed by most of our old poets.

576 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Over. That I liacl thee But single in the Held !

L. All. Wn\ may; hut make not ]\Iy house your (|uarrellhio- scene.

Over. Were't in a church, By heaven and hell, 111 do't.

Mar. Now put him to The she\vin<2^ of the deed.

Il'cll. This rage is vain, sir; For fighting, tear not, you shall have your hand*

full Upon the least incitement; and whereas You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, If there be law, (howe'eryou have no conscience,) Either restore my land, or Ell recover A debt, that's truly due to me from you, In value ten times more than what you challeniiT.

Over. 1 in thy debt ! O impudence ! did 1 not purchase The land left by thy fatlier, that ricli land. That had continued in W'ellborn's name Twenty descents; which, like a riotous fool, Thou didst make sale of? Is not here inclosed The deed that docs confirm it mine ?

JL/r. Now, now 1

Jfcli. I do acknowledge none; I ne'er j)ass'd over Any such land ; I grant, for a year or two You had it in trust; which if ycni do discharge, Surrendering the possession, you shall case Yourself and me of chargeable suits in law, Which, if you prove not honest, as I doubt it. Must ol necessity follow.

/j. .III. In mv iud<!:ment He does advise ^ou w<ll.

Over, (iood ! good ! conspire With vour new husband, ladv ; second him

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 577

III his dishonest practices ; but when

This manor is extended to my use,^

You'll speak in an humbler key, and sue for favour.

L. AIL Never : do not hope it.

Well. Let despair first seize me.

Over. Yet, to shut up thy mouth, and make thee o-ive Thyself the lie, the loud lie, I draw out The precious evidence ; if thou canst forswear Thy hand and seal, and make a forfeit of

\Opens the bo.v, and displays the bond. Thy ears to the pillory, see! here's that will make My interest clear — ha!

L. All. A fair skin of parchment.

Well. Indented, I confess, and labels too ; But neither wax nor words. How ! thunder- struck ? Not a syllable to insult with ? My wise uncle. Is this your precious evidence, this that makes Your interest clear ?

Over. I am o'erwhelm'd with wonder ! What prodigy is this ? what subtile devil Hath razed out the inscription? the wax Turn'd into dust ! — the rest of my deeds whole, As when they were deliver'd, and this only Made nothing ! do you deal with witches, rascal? There is a statute for you, which will bring'

hut when

This manor is extended to my use,] i. e. seized.. It is a legal phrase, and occurs continually.

7 There is a statute /or j/o/f, &c.] This statute, which unfor- tunately brought many a neck info a hempen circle, was made in the first year of James. It decreed the punisiiment of death for a variety of impossible crimes; which yet were fully proved upon a number of poor ignorant superannuated wretches, who wore cajoled or terrified into a full coau-ssion of them. Ttiis diabolical law was repealed about the middle of the last century.

VOL. iir. P p

578 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Your neck in an hempen circle; yes, there is; And nou' 'tis bettc;r thought for,® cheater, know This ju2"aling' shall not save you.

U^cICTo save thee Would beggar the stock of mercy.

Over. Marrall !

Jllar. Sir.

Over. Though the witnesses are dead, your testimony Help with an oath or two : and for thy master, Thv liberal m;istcr, mv good honest servant, I kii(jw thou M'ilt swear any thing to dash This cunning sleiglit : besides, I know thou art A publick notary, and such stand in law For a dozen witnesses : the deed being drawn too By thee, my careful Alarrall, and tleliver'd When tliou wert present, will make good my title. ^\'ilt thou not swear this r

Alar. I ! no, I assure you : 1 have a conscience not sear'd up like yours; I know no deeds.

Over. Wilt thou betray me ^

3Iar. Keep him From using of his hands, Til use my tongue To his no little torment.

Over. Mine own varlet Rebel agaiust me !

Alar. Yes, and uncase yon too. The idcot, the Patch, the slave, the boobv,'

' J/i(l now 'lis better thought for,l This is right; and per- fectly agreeable to tlic ]>rartifi' of MassiniriM-'s limes, indeed, of all tii.ii's ; yet Mi. Al. Mason is not eontent, but arbilrarily reads, And iioxv Vw better thought of !

9 'J'he ideot, the Patch, the slave, &c.] The vengeance of a little mind, confident of it* cunning, h happily portrayed in (he

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 579

The property fit only to be beaten

For your morning exercise, your football, or

The unprofitable lump ot" fiesh, your drudge ;

Can now anatomize you, and lay open

All your black plots, and level with the earth

Your hill of pride : and, with these gabions

guarded, Unload my great artillery, and shake, Nay pulverize, the Mollis you think defend you.

L. AIL How he foams at the mouth with rage !

JVell. To him again.

Over. O that I had thee in my gripe, I would tear thee Joint after joint !

Alav. I know vou are a tearer. But I'll have first your fangs pared ofli", and then Come nearer to you; when I have discovered, And made it good before the judge, what ways, And devilish practices, you used to cozen with An army of M'hole families, who yet live, And but enroird for soldiers, were able To take in Dunkirk.*

recapitulation of those abusive terms which had been, at various times, lavished upon Marrall, and which, though he submitted to them in silence, he had carciully treasured up till the occasion should ofl'er of retorting them with sarcastick triumph and exul- tation.

' An arpii/ of xvhole families, "who yet live.

And but enroird for soldiers, were able

To take in Dunkirk. \ This speech is very erroneously given by Coxeter and Mr. M. Mason ; it is here corrected from the quarto. I am still doubtful, however, whether the verb lixe be genuine ; as I believe that the author had in view a passage in the Virgin Martyr :

" Were the Christians,

^' Whose names stand here, alive and arm'd, not Rome

" Could move upon her hinges." Vol. I. p. 100.

To take in, means to subdue, to seize. The modern editors

Pp2

580 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

IVdl. All will come out.

L All. The better.

Over. But that I will live, rogue, to torture thee, And make thee wish, aiul kneel in vain, to die, These swords, that keep thee from me, should tix

here, Although they made my body but one wound, But I would reach thee.

Lov. Heaven's hand is in this ; One bandog worry the other 1 [Aside.

Over. I play the fool, And make my anger but ridiculous : There will be a time and place, there will be,

cowards, When you shall feel what I dare do.

J Veil. I think so : You dare do any ill, yet want true valour To be honest, and repent.

Over. They are words I know not, Nor e'er will learn. Patience, the beggar's virtue,

Enter Greedy and Parson 'Willdo.'^

Shall find no harbour here : — after these storms At length a calm appears. Welcome, most wel- come !

ignorant of this, '^aiid, 1 may vi-ntiire to add, allcM- tlio uunurous instances which we have already had of this familiar exjiression, inexcuscaLly ignorant,) strike out ///. and reduce the line to mere prose !

* Enter (Ireloy and Puvson\\"\\\i[o.~\ So the parson is called in the list of dramatis persona*, and in every part of th»' play : yet 1 kiKtw no! for what re.:son the u>oder;i eilitors continually call him ll'tdl-du! They must hnve as little notion of hiinionr, as of tlie true cliaratter of Overreach, if they imagine this to be the better name.

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 58L

There's comfort in thy looks; is the deed (oiie? Is my daughter married ? say but so, my chaplain, And I am tame.

jruido. Married ! yes, I assure you. Over. Then vanish all sad thouo;hts ! there's more <i'old for thee. My doubts and fears are in the titles drown VI Of my honourable, my right honourable daughter. Greedy. Here will be feasting ; at least for a month I am provided : empty guts, croak no more, You shall be stuffed like bagpipes, not with wind. But bearing dishes.'

Over. Instantly be here ?

\JVhispermg to JVilldo. To my wish ! to my wish ! Now you that plot

against me,* And hoped to trip my heels up, that contemn'd

me, Think on't and tremble : — [Loud 7?uisick.^ — they

come ! I hear the musick. A lane there for my lord !

^ Bui beaiang disltes.~\ i. e. solid, substantial dishes; or what the steward (in the Unnatural Combat, Vol. I. p. 165) calls portly viands. I mention this because the word is frequently mistaken :

" Cloudesle with a bearing arrowc

*' Clave the wande in two." Old Ballad.

^' A bearing arrow," says Strutt, " is an arrow shot com- pass, i. e. so as the arrow in its flight formed a segment of a circle." And so we get the praise of accuracy! A bearing ar- row is, in three words, a strong and weighty arrow.

* To 7ny -wish ! to my wish ! Now you that plot against me, &c,] How much better does this express the eager triumph of Over- reach, than the tame and unmetrical reading of Co.xeter and Mr. M.Mason! they omit, tomytcish! which, as they probably count- ed the syllables upon their fingers, appeared to them a grievous redundancy.

582 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

JVell. This sudden heat May yet be cooFd, sir.

Over. Make way there for my lord !

Enter Allworth and Margaret.

Marg. Sir, first your pardon, then your bless- ing, with Your full allowance of the choice I have made. As ever you could make use of your reason,

\Kncel'ing. Grow not in passion ; since you may as well Call back the day that's past, as untie the knot Which is too strongly fastcn'd : not to dwell Too long on Avords, this is my husband.

Over. How !

All. So 1 assure vou: all the rites of marriao-e With every circumstance are past. Alas ! sir, Although I am no lord, but a lord's page, Your daughter and my loved wife mourns not for it; And for right honourable son-in-law, you may say Your dutiful daughter.

Over. Devil ! are they married ?

IVilldo. Do a father's part, and say, Heaven give them joy !

Over. Confusion and ruin ! speak, and speak (luickly, Or thou art dead.

11 dldu. They are married.

Over. Thou hadst better Have made a contract \\ith the king of fiends. Than these: — my brain turns !

/{'/lido. Why this lage to me ? Is not this your letter, sir, and these the woids.^ Marry Iter to this gentleman.^

Over. It cannot :

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 5'63

Nor Avill I e'er believe it, 'scleath ! I will not ; That I, that, in all passages I touched At worldly profit, have not left a print Where I have trod for the most curious search To trace my footsteps, should be guU'd by chil(h-en. Baffled and fool'd, and all my hopes and lal)ours Defeated, and made void.

irell. As it appears, You are so, my grave uncle.

Over. Village nurses Revenge their wrongs with curses; I'll not waste A syllable, but thus I take the life Which wretched I gave to thee.

[Atte77ipis to kill Margaret.

Lov. [coming forward.^ Hold, for your own sake ! Though charity to your daughter hath quite left

you,

Will you do an act, though in your hopes lost here, Can leave no hope for peace or rest hereafter ? Consider ; at the best you are but a man. And cannot so create your aims, but that They may be crossVl.

Over. Lord ! thus I spit at thee, And at thy counsel; and again desire thee/ And as thou art a soldier, if thy valour Dares shew itself, where multitude and example Lead not the way, let's quit the house, and change Six words in private.

Lov. I am ready.

L. All. Stay, sir, Contest with one distracted !

s and again desire thee,

And as thou art a soldier, to quit the home, &c.] I should

not have thought this called for an explanation, had not Mr. M.

Mason chosen to misunderstand it, and alter the text : he reads and again defy thee.

584 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

jrc'l. You'll grow like him, Should you answer his vain challenge,

Over. Aie you pah^ ? Borrow his help, tlioiigh Hercules call it odds, I'll stand against both as I am, hemm'd in thus. — Since, like a Libyan lion in the toil, My fury cannot reach the coward hunters, And only spends itself, Lll quit the place: Alone I can do notbing, l)ut I have servants And friends to second me; and if I make not This house a heap of ashes (by my wrongs, AV'bat I have spoke I will make good !) or leave One throat uncut, — if it be possible. Hell, add to my aftlictions ! [^Eiit.

Alar. Is't not brave sport ?

Greedy. Brave sport ! I am sure it has ta'en away my stomach ; I do not like the sauce.

All. Nay, weep not, dearest, Though it express your pity ; what's decreed Above we cannot alter.

L. AIL His threats move me No scruple, madam.

Mar. Was it not a rare trick, An it please your worship, to make the deed

nothina; ? I can do twenty neater, if you please To jnirchase and grow rich; lor I will be Such a solicitor and steward for vou, As never worsliipful had.

ll'ell. 1 do believe tliee ; But first discover tbe quaint means you used To raze out tbe conveyance?

Alar. Tiny are mysteries Not to be sjjoke in j)iiblick : certain minerals Incorporated in tbe ink and wax. —

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 585

Besides, he gave me notliing, but still fed me With hopes and blows ; and that was the induce- ment To this conundrum. If it please your worship To call to memory, this mad beast once caused me To urge you or to drown or hang yourself ; I'll do the like to him, if you command me.

JVell. You are a rascal ! he that dares be false To a master, though unjust, will ne'er be true To any other. Look not for reward Or favour from me ; I will shun thy sight As I would do a basilisk's : thank my pity, If thou keep thy ears; howe'er, I will take order Your practice shall be silenced.

Greedy. I'll commit him, If you will have me, sir.

JVell. That were to little purpose ; His conscience be his prison. Not a word, But instantly be gone.

Orel. Take this kick with you.

Aynb. And this.

Furn. If that I had my cleaver here, I would divide your knave's head.

Alar. This is- the haven False servants still arrive at. [Exit.

Re-enter Overreach.

L. All. Come again !

Lov. Fear not, I am your guard.

JVell. His looks are ghastly.

JVilldo. Some little time I have spent, under your favours. In physical studies, and if my judgment err not, He's mad beyond recovery : but observe him. And look to yourselves.

5S6 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

Over. Whv, is not tlie whole world Incliulcd in myself r to what use then Are friends and servants ? Say there were a

squadron Of pikes, lined through with shot, M'hen I am

mounted Upon my injuries, shall I fear to charge them ? No : ril through the hattalia, and that routed,

[Flourishing his szvorcl sheathed. I'll fail to execution. — Ila ! I am feehle : Some undone Midow sits upon mine arm, And takes awav the use oft ; and mv sword, Cilued tomy scabhard with wrong'd orphans' tears, A\'ill not be drawn. Ila! what arc these? sure,

h;ingmen, Tliat come to bind my hands, and then to drag me ]]cfore the judgment-seat : now they are new

shapes, And do aj>pear like Furies, M'ith steel whips To scourge my ulcerous soul. Shall I then fall Ingloriously, and yield ? no; spite of Fate I will be forced to hell like to myself. Though you were legions of accursed spirits, Thus would I fly among 3'ou. [Jvushcs Joncard.

/I'd/. There's no helj) ; Disarm him first, then bind him.

Grecdij. Take a mittimus, And carry him to IJedhim. Lov. Ilow he foams! //>//. And bites the earth i ll'illdo. Carry him to some dark room, Tliere try M'hat art can do for his recovery. AI(ini\ O mv dear father !

yi'hci/ force Overreach ojj'. ylll. \ ou niu>)t be patient, mistress. Lov. Here is a precedent to teach wicked men,

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 587

That wlien they leave religion, and turn atheists, Their own ahilitics leave them. Pray you take

comfort, I will endeavour you shall be his guardians In his distractions : and for your land, master

A\'ellborn, Be it good or ill in law, I'll be an umpire Between you, and this, the undoubted heir Of sir Giles Overreach; for me, here's the anchor That I must fix on.

All. What you shall determine, My lord, I will allow of.

Jrell. 'Tis the language That I speak too ; but there is something else Beside the repossession of my land. And payment of my debts, that I must practise. I had a reputation, but 'twas lost In my loose course ; and until I redeem it Some noble way, I am but half made up. It is a time of action ; if your lordship Will please to confer a company upon me In your command, I doubt not, in my service To my king, and country, but I shall do something That may make- me right again,

Lov. Your suit is granted, And you loved for the motion.

JVell. Nothing wants then But your allowance \To the Spectators.

588 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

EPILOGUE.

But your allowance — and in that our all Is comprehended ; it beino- known, nor we. Nor he that wrote the comedy, can be free "Without your manunnssion ; m hich if you Grant willingly, as a fair favour due To the poet's, and our labours, (as you may,) For we despair not, gentlemen, of the play : We jointly shall profess your grace hath might To teach us action, and him how to write.*

^ We fmd that tlie players in Massini^cr's age diil " not des- pair" of til? success of this Comedy : and the continuance of the ptiblick favour has justified their confidence in its merit. Indeed it possesses many qualilirations for the sta^e. The principal event, though subject to an objection whieli will be presently noticed, is conceived with much novelty and liumonr. During its progress many entertaining incidents arise, and a stront; and li>el) picture is presented of domestick manners. Its useful tendency is also as prominent as the anvusement which il con- fessedly brings. No Flay of Alassinger is marked with morr v'arift) or seriousness of moral ; from W i-llborii \vi' learn, that he who s(juan(lers his substance on (he uiiwiuthv, shall be rewarded with ingratitude and insult; and Miat flu* rehirn of wealth brinus but litUe satisfaction unless it bo accompauiid with a returning; sense of honour: — from the as•sociate•^ of Over- reach, that vicious friendships are l)ut treacheries, false in their principle, even w hile they last, and spurned alike by firtue, both wliili'fliev la-.t, and when tlie\ fail :- ami from Overrea<h him- self, tli.il there is a secret haiul which couuterai Is injustice, in- ialuales subtilty, and turns the arts of sellishues:, into folly and

A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS. 589

ruin. His madness is judicial : and Massinger holds him out to the world,

" a precedent to teach wicked men

" That when they leave religion, and turn atheists,

" Their own abilities leave them.

This character is drawn with great force; and as the story pro- ceeds, Overreach takes place of Wellborn in the attention of the reader. He is divided between avarice and vanity; avarice which grows from his nature as its proper fruit; and vanity which is grafted upon the success of his avarice. In this part we meet wilh strong marks of a disposition basely aspiring. He betrays his vulgar joy on account of the expected alliance, to those from whom prudence and delicacy would equally conceal it: and he glories in the prospect even of his own humiliation in the presence of his daughter, and looks with satisfaction to the moment when his very prerogatives as a father shall be kept in awe by her superiour rank.

The other characters extend their influence bejond themselves. The mild dignity of lord Lovell and lady Allworth agreeably relieve the harshness of Overreach ; and a similar effect is pro- duced by the attractive innocence and simplicity of Margaret and her lover. But here an observation must be made, of a less favourable nature: by a practice too common with Mas- singer, the better charaeters forget their delicacy, and are de- graded. Lovell might secretly promote the views of Allworth: but while he does this, he ought not to treat with Overreach on his own account. Lady Allworth is equally faulty, and her un- expected and whimsical adoption of Wellborn ill agrees either with her retirement, her principles, or her express reprobation of his character. The two lovers also lose their simplicity; and when the father is to be deceived, they suddenly become crafty beyond their years, their nature, and knowledge of the world. But all this was well known to Massinger; and he has provided certain acknowledgments for it. Lovell and the lady call each other to account for the apparent strangeness of their proceedings, and are murually excused by the motives on which they act; and the spleen of Massinger seems to have been so strong against Overreach, that he thought a departure from character not unpardonable, provided he could have the satisfaction of shewing him outwitted by " two weak innocents," and '' gulled by children." The editor has produced sufficient proof that a real person was aimed at in Overreach. The circumstance just mentioned is one of the many internal marks of such a design, Tlie reprehension is vehement and incessant ; and consistency- is disregarded, while ignominy or ridicule is heaped upon the obnoxious person. This secret purpose seems to have been the

590 A NEW WAY TO PAY OLD DEBTS.

real occasion of the severity which marks some of the scenes: they aro more ;ia>sioiiate than playful : ami have rather the pro- pi'itits of direct and urgent satire, than the sportiveness and versatility of comick wit. Dii. Ikkland.

END OF VOL. III.

Piintfdby VV. KiilnuT and Co. Clcvclaiul-Kuw, St. James's.

ERRATA.

P. 21, 1. 30, for your, read you, P. 316, 1. '29, for und, read and, P. 457, 1. 33, for at, read as.

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