ACT III.
Enter Lodovico, Jaspro, Jovani, and Clown.
That both should seem to yield to the temptation,
And both so meet in one resolved goodness,
Unknown to one another!
Lod. There lies the jest on't. Sirrah Pambo, I do but think, an' she had met him in the garden, how she would have rattled him.
Clown. And ruffled him too, sir: the camomile[133] would have been better for it many a day after.
Jov. Such an honest-minded servant where shall one find?
Lod. Servant! my sworn brother, man; he's too honest for an office, he'll never thrive in't: ye have few servants will deal so mercifully with their lords.
Jas. A wife! why, she's a saint; one that ever bears a good sound soul about her.
Clown. Yes, when she wears her new shoes.
Jov. Shall we see her, my lord?
Lod. Where is she, Pambo?
Clown. Walking a turn or two i' th' garden with Francisco, sir; I'll go call her.
Lod. No, no, no; let her alone: 'tis pity indeed to part them, they are so well-matched. Was he not reading to her?
Clown. No, sir, she was weeping to him: she heard this morning that her confessor, father Jacomo, was dead.
Jas. Father Jacomo dead?
Lod. Why, now shall not we have her eat one bit this five days.
Clown. She'll munch the more in a corner: that's the puritan's fast.
Lod. Nay, do but judge of her, my lords, by one thing: whereas most of our dames go to confession but once a month, some twice a quarter, and some but once a year, and that upon constraint too, she never misses twice a week.
Jas. 'Tis wonderful!
With the whole world, that so keep touch with heaven.
Lod. Nay, I told ye, ye should find no Philippo of Francisco.
Clown. And I remember I told your honour you should find no Abstemia of my lady.
Lod. Nor no Lorenzo of myself: he was ever a melancholy stubborn fellow. He kept her in too much, and see what comes on't! I give my wife her will, and see what comes on't too!
Clown. Nay, sir, there is two come on't, an' a man could discover 'em.
Lod. Two what, I prythee?
Clown. It may be two babies, sir: for they come commonly with giving a woman her will.
Lod. I'd laugh at that, i' faith, boy. But who has she now for her confessor?
Clown. She looks for one, they call him father Antony, sir; and he's wished[134] to her by Madonna Lussuriosa.
Enter Dorothea and Francisco.
Lod. There's another modest soul too, never without a holy man at her elbow! But here comes one outweighs them all. Why, how now, chick, weeping so fast? This is the fault of most of our ladies; painting—weeping for their sins I should say, spoils their faces.
Fran. Sweet madam.
Lod. Look, look, look! loving soul, he weeps for company!
Clown. And I shall laugh outright by and by.
Dor. O that good man!
Lod. Why, bird?
Jas. Be patient, lady.
Dor. Would he go to heaven without his zealous pupil?
Clown. It may be he knew not your mind, forsooth.
Dor. He knew my mind well enough.
Clown. Why then, it may be, he knew you could not hold out for the journey. Pray, do not set us all a-crying.
[Weeps.
No one comes near me; so that were it not
For modest simple Francis here——
Virtuous books to me; were it not for him,
I might go look content.[135] But 'tis no matter,
Nobody cares for me.
Lod. Nay, prythee, Doll. Pray, gentlemen, comfort her. [Weeps.
Clown. Now is the devil writing an encomium upon cunning cuckold-makers.
Fran. You have been harsh to her of late, I fear, sir.
Lod. By this hand, I turned not from her all last night. What should a man do?
To bedew the lamented grave of her old father.
As the Count Lorenzo's lady, were I so graceless
To make you wear a pair of wicked horns,
You would make more reckoning of me—— [Weeps.
Lod. Weep again? She'll cry out her eyes, gentlemen.
Clown. No, I warrant you: remember the two lines your honour read last night—
'S April's dust, no sooner wet but dry.
Lod. Good pigs-nie! Frank, prythee, walk her t'other turn i' th' garden, and get her a stomach to her supper. We'll be with ye presently, wench.
Dor. Nay, when ye please; but why should I go from ye?
Lod. Loving soul! Prythee, Frank, take her away.
Dor. Pray, let me kiss ye first. Come, Francis, Nobody cares for us.
[At the door Francis kisses her. Exeunt.
Lod. Well, there goes a couple: where shall a man match you, indeed? Hark, Pambo!
Jas. Did you observe?
Jov. They kissed!
Jas. Peace.
Lod. And entreat Madonna Lussuriosa to sup with us: as you go, tell her my lady's never well but in her company.
Clown. What, if your honour invited the Count Lorenzo? he'll be so melancholy, now his lady and he are parted.
Lod. Pray do as you are bid, kind sir, and let him alone: I'll have no cuckold sup in my house to-night.
Clown. 'Tis a very hot evening; your honour will sup in the garden then.
Lod. Yes, marry, will I, sir; what's that to you?
Clown. Why, your honour was ever as good as your word. Keep the cuckolds out of door, and lay a cloth for my lord in the arbour, gentlemen. [Exit.
Lod. I have been this three months about a project.
Jov. What is't, my lord?
Lod. Why, I intend to compose a pamphlet of all my wife's virtues, put them in print, and dedicate them to the duke, as orthodoxal directions against he marries.
Jas. 'Twill give him apt instructions, when he does marry, to pick out such a woman.
Lod. Pick her! where will he pick her? as the English proverb says, He may as soon find a needle in a bottle of hay. Would I knew what sins she has committed, I would set them down all one with another; they would serve as foils to her virtues: but I do think she has none: d'ye think she has any, gentlemen?
Jov. O, none, sir, but has some.
Lod. Ay, piddling ones, it may be; as when a pin pricks her finger to cry at sight on't, and throw't away; but for other matters——
Jas. Now I think on't, sir, I have a device newly begotten that, if you be so desirous to be resolved of her perfections, 'twill be an apt means for your intelligence.
Lod. That will be excellent; and then my book, grounded upon mine own experience, the report of my judgment in the choice of a woman, will sell them off faster than the compositor can set the letters together.
Let this prepare the path to your construction,
Conceit and confidence are jugglers born;
One grafts in air, t'other hides the real horn.
Lod. Well, he that believes he has horns, has horns; and Crede quod habes, et habes, shall be my motto. [Exeunt.
Enter Pandulpho and Spinoso.
With the passages that pass'd upon his sister,
Embassadors were despatch'd to Bergamo,
Where then his forces lay; who thus return'd,
That he came not a public foe unto Verona,
But to require justice against Count Lorenzo,
To approve his sister innocent.
Proof, or apparent circumstance builds he
His bold attempt upon?
The honour of Philippo, he has proof
So unresistible to affirm the plot
Of Count Lorenzo, that he only crav'd
(Hostages being render'd for their safe returns)
Here in the senate-chamber the fair trial
Might publicly be censur'd. And by this
They are at hand.
Enter at one door Duke of Venice, Philippo, and Lords: at the other, Duke of Verona, Jaspro, Jovani; Lorenzo guarded. A bar set out. The 1st Slave.
To add one step unto my territories; and though I burden
The neighbour-bosom of my confines with
The weight of armour, or do wound your breast
(My dukedom's near next neighbour) with the hoofs
Of war-apparell'd horses, 'tis not to seek
For martial honours, but for civil justice.
Conceive mine honour wounded: a sister's shame
Is an unpleasant spot upon our arms;
Yet that we come not here to sanctify
A sister's sin; for if she be so prov'd,
Shame sleep within her epitaph, and brand her;
Let bears and wolves that angel's face confound,
Gives goodness such a foul, unfriendly wound:
But if she chaste be prov'd, what balm can cure
A wounded name? As he that not inflicts
The bitter stroke of law upon the strumpet
Fattens the sad afflictions of a thousand;
So who but stains an honest woman's name
Plagues are yet kept for him: steel is no defence
For the unclean tongue injures innocence.
I affirm my sister wrong'd, wrong'd by this man—
This, that has wrong'd pure judgment, and thrown poison
Upon the face of truth; and upon him
I seek a satisfaction.
The law must give you satisfaction,
That justly did divorce us: I appeal
To the whole consiliadory, if equal law
In her progression went a step astray,
Either by proof or information.
Let the duke speak (not as he is my kinsman)
If I produc'd not legally in court,
Besides mine own assertion, which even reason
Grounded on probability, two of my servants,
That upon oath affirm'd they saw your sister
Even in the very act of sin and shame
With that Philippo there. Blame me not then, sir,
If I return an error to your cause.
Reason, the base whereon we build the laws
You injure in this action, gives her the lie.
Who dares not build his faith upon his eye?
They swore what they did see; and men still fear
(Reason concludes) what they not see, to swear.
That you produce your author: it is held
Mere madness on a hill of sand to build.
And that I answer: he builds on truth,
The good man's mistress, and not in the sanctuary
Of this injur'd brother's power, but the integrity
And glory of the cause. I throw the pawn
Of my afflicted honour, and on that
I openly affirm your absent lady
Chastity's well-knit abstract: snow in the fall,
Purely refin'd by the bleak northern blast,
Not freer from a soil; the thoughts of infants
But little nearer heaven: and if these princes
Please to permit, before their guilty thoughts
Injure another hour upon the lady,
My right-drawn sword shall prove it.
(How my soul dances!) humbly I entreat
Your grant to his request: fight with Philippo
I' th' midst of flame or pestilence; in a cave,
Where basilisks do breed.
The price of blood is precious.
The price of truth is precious. For all the fights
I have fought for you on land: the feats[138] at sea,
Where I have tugg'd with tempests, stood storms at midnight,
Out-star'd the flaring lightning, and the next morning
Chas'd the unruly stubborn Turk with thunder;
For all the bullets I have bravely shot,
And sent death singing to the slaughter, sir——
Mine honour lies a-bleeding, and in mine yours;
Her wide wound inward bleeds; and while you cry peace,
Shame wars upon my name. O, rather kill me,
Than cast me to this scandal!
With such a dare approv'd, you may permit it.
Fresh air in the face of fainting honour.
Rapiers of fair equality.
The spider, when she would snare the fly, doth weave
With neater art appearance [to] deceive.
Stay!—as you said, sir, blood is a precious price:
Let me but see the men produc'd who swore
They saw them in the shameful act, and then
Farewell a sister and her honour.
In that I threaten'd him for some neglect,
The next day ran away.
You saw our sister and this gentleman
In this base act of sin?
Is more dangerous than to displease a duke.
I saw it, and did swear it.
Enter Lord, and 2d Slave.
Will swear you saw it not, and are forsworn.
Hir'd by my lord with gifts and promises:
And as I now have spoke the truth, so Heaven
Forgive my former perjury!
I have nettles in my breeches.
The bed of snakes is broke, the trick's come out,
And here's the knot i' th' rush. Good Heaven, good Heaven!
That craft, in seeking to put on disguise,
Should so discover herself!
Mine honour unto death. This noble duke
By nature is engaged to defend a sister;
And to this duke so engag'd this malicious lord—
For sin still hates her scourger—makes repair,
And prepossesses him with that suppos'd innocence
Of an injur'd sister, which he had hir'd this slave
To follow him and affirm, and lays the cause
To scruple and to conscience: they did consent
To steal belief by seeming accident.
Sin, juggler-like, casts sin before our eyes:
Craft sometimes steals the wonder of the wise.
With an equal hand now weigh me, and if I want
A grain of honour, tear me from your blood,
And cast me to contempt.
[Aside.
Charm'd to her chair with wonder!
Reach him the book; you shall see him again
Take the former oath.
If it give not satisfaction, send back our hostage;
You have fair regress to your forces: but
The blood remains on you; and still remember,
The price of blood is precious.
Reach him the book; and if thou false dost say,
May thine own tongue thine own foul heart betray.
Give me the book. My oath must end all, then?
They are now both seen in the base act.
base act?
Slandering spotless honour, an act so base
The barbarous Moor would blush at.
Did you not both here swear i' th' senate-chamber,
You saw them both dishonest?
Ye both saw them dishonest?
For we were both two villains when we saw them,
So we saw them dishonest.
A rock of crystal not more clear, this gentleman
Basely abus'd; this great prince dishonour'd;
And so we kneel for mercy.
Depart, prove honest men. That I should bear
Dishonour in my blood!
And cast thee off a stranger. Assume you, sir,
Since the great cause is yours, my seat of justice,
And sentence this foul homicide: it must be,
And suddenly; he will infect the air else.
Proceed, great sir, with rigour, whilst I stand by,
And do adore the sentence.
Art thou not guilty?
Princes can build and ruin with one breath.
Two souls were hazarded, a princess' fame,
A duke dishonour'd, and a noble lord
Wounded in reputation; but since she lives,
And that no blood was spilt (though something dearer)
Mercy thus far stretches her silver wings
Over your trespass. We do banish you
Both from our dukedom's limits and your own:
If you but set a daring foot upon them,
Whilst life lends you ability to stand,
You fall into the pit of death, unless
You shall find out our most unfortunate sister,
And bring her to our court.
In that you have had[140] impartial justice, sir,
Princes should punish vice in their own blood:
Until you find that excellent injur'd lady,
Upon this gentleman, who hath suffer'd for you,
We confer your lands, revenues, and your place:
That, during three days' stay within our confines,
It shall be death to any that relieves you,
But, as they do a beggar at their door,
So cast you from their presence.[141]
O love, thy first destruction is distrust!
[Exeunt Lorenzo,[142] Jaspro, and Jovani.
Of your most-injur'd sister, please you to call
My court your own—conceive it so—where live.
Two partners in one passion we will be,
And sweeten sorrow with a sympathy. [Exeunt.
Enter Lodovico like a friar, Jaspro, and Jovani.
Father Antony the confessor, that I protest
There's not more semblance in a pair of eggs.
Lod. Well, lords,[143] you're mad lords to counsel me to this. But now, in this habit, shall I know the very core of her heart and her little piddling sins, which will show in my book as foils to her giant-bodied virtues.
Jas. That will be admirable!
Jov. We'll step aside: by this she's upon coming!
Jas. We shall know all.
Lod. Reveal, confession! but go your ways: as much as may lawfully be revealed, we'll laugh at at next meeting.
A beggar found a lark's nest; and, o'erjoy'd
At his sudden glut, for he thought 'twas full of young ones,
Looking, they were all gone: he was forc'd again to beg,
For he found in the lark's nest a serpent's egg.
So much good d'ye, sir. [Exeunt.
Enter Dorothea.
Lod. Well, thou surpassest all the courtiers in these pretty ones, if a man had the wit to understand them. Yonder she comes: I can hardly forbear blushing, but that for discovering myself.
With a son's obedience, and do but borrow thee,
As men would play with flies who, i' th' midst
Of modest mirth, with care preserve themselves.
Upon the plenal and approv'd report
Of your integrity and upright dealing——
To be my ghostly father: and to you I fall
For absolution.
That vessel of your flesh of all the dregs
Which, since your last confession clear'd you, have
Taken a settled habitation in you;
And with a powerful sweet acknowledgment
Hunt out those spirits which haunt that house of flesh.
Tears make dry branches flourish green and fresh.
My first sin was, that my tailor bringing home
My last new gown, having made the sleeves too flanting,
In an unchristian passion I did bid
The devil take him.
Yet the more pardonable, for it may be your tailor
Lies in hell night by night. Pray, to your second.
Putting a little saffron in her starch,[144]
I most unmercifully broke her head.
The maid's head was not broke before?
Lod. These will be brave sins to mix with her virtues! Why, they will make no more show than three or four bailiffs amongst a company of honest men. [Aside.] These sins, my dove-like daughter, are out of contradiction venial, trivial, and light. Have you none of greater growth?
Of weight and consequence. The same order
Heralds prescribe in shows, I now observe
In placing of my sins; as there inferiors
Fare 'fore the persons of great note,[145] so last,
Because the last lives freshest in our memories,[146]
My great sin comes to obliterate those pass'd.
Unseemly I have abus'd my husband's bed.
With another man besides my husband.
But not altogether so often.
Lod. Why then, Crede quod habes, et habes, I will believe I have horns, for I have 'em. 'Sfoot, a woman, I perceive, is a neat herald; she can quarter her husband's coat with another's[147] arms at pleasure. But I have a penance for your pure whoreship. [Aside.] You are somewhat broad: are you not with child, daughter?
Wishes all well; but, like a light piece of gold,
He's taken for more than he weighs.
A zealous exhortation: but great affairs
That brook no stay make me be brief, rememb'ring
Lawful necessity may dispense with ceremony.
You are ingenuously sorry?
If your penance be as strange. You may wonder at it,
But it is wonderous easy in performance;
But as your penance I enjoin it. Nay, now I remember
In an old French authentic author, his book
'Titled, De Satisfactione, I read the same
Enjoin'd a lady of Dauphin. 'Tis no holy fast,
No devout prayer, nor no zealous pilgrimage;
'Tis out of the prescrib'd road.
So strange [that] story ne'er match'd the injunction,
I do vow the plenal strict performance.
Soon at night (so rumour spreads it through the city)
The two great dukes of Venice and Verona
Are feasted by your lord, where a masque's intended.
In depth of silence, you shall confess these words
Aloud to your husband, You are not this child's father:
And, 'cause my order bars[148] me such inquisition,
You shall say, Such a man lay with me,
Naming the party was partner in your sin.
You are absolv'd; break it, you know the danger of it. Good-bye!
'Tis the shameful loss of our religious orders,
If we reveal.
Enjoin me first upon my knees to creep
From Verona to Loretto.
So wondrous easy in performance?
A new performance. Farewell, sir.
You are the cruell'st e'er confess'd me before.