Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 04 of 10

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter Aubrey, and Latorch.

Aub. Latorch, I have waited here to speak with you,
And you must hearken; set not forth your leg
Of haste, nor put your face of business on;
An honester affair than this I urge too,
You will not easily think on; and 'twill be
Reward to entertain it; 'tis your fortune
To have our Masters ear above the rest
Of us that follow him, but that no man envies;
For I have well considered, Truth sometimes
May be convey'd in by the same Conduits
That Falshood is; These courses that he takes
Cannot but end in ruine; Empire got
By blood and violence, must so be held;
And how unsafe that is, he first will prove,
That toiling still to remove Enemies
Makes himself more; It is not now a Brother,
A faithful Councellour of estate or two,
That are his danger, they are far dispatch'd;
It is a multitude that begin to fear,
And think what began there must end in them;
For all the fine Oration that was made 'em,
And they are not an easie Monster quell'd.
Princes may pick their suffering Nobles out;
And one by one employ 'em to the block; but when they
once grow formidable to their Clowns, and Coblers, ware
then, guard themselves; if thou durst tell him this, Latorch,
the service would not discredit the good name you hold with
men, besides the profit to your Master, and the publick.

Lat. I conceive not so, Sir:
They are airy fears; and why should I object them unto his fancy?
Wound what is yet sound? your counsels colour not,
With reason of state, where all that's necessary still is just.
The actions of the Prince, while they succeed,
Should be made good, and glorified; not question'd.
Men do but shew their ill affections, that—

Aub. What? speak out.

Lat. Do murmur against their Masters.

Aub. Is this to me?

Lat. It is to whosoever mislikes of the Dukes courses.

Aub. I! is't so? at your stateward, Sir?

Lat. I'm sworn to hear nothing may prejudice the Prince.

Aub. Why do you? or have you, ha?

Lat. I cannot tell, mens hearts shew in their words sometimes.

Aub. I ever thought thee
Knave of the Chamber, art thou the Spye too?

Lat. A watchman for the State, and one that's known,
Sir, to be rightly affected.

Aub. Bawd of the State;
No less than of thy masters lusts. I now
See nothing can redeem thee; dost thou mention
Affection, or a Heart, that ne'r hadst any?
Knowst not to love or hate, but by the State,
As thy Prince does't before thee? that dost never
Wear thy own face, but put'st on his, and gather'st
Baits for his Ears: liv'st wholly at his beck,
And e're thou dar'st utter a thought's thine own,
Must expect his; creep'st forth and wad'st into him
As if thou wert to pass a Ford, there proving
Yet if thy tongue may step on safely or no;
Then bring'st his vertue asleep, and stay'st the wheel
Both of his reason and judgment, that they move not,
Whit'st over all his vices; and at last
Dost draw a Cloud of words before his eyes,
Till he can neither see thee nor himself?
Wretch, I dare give him honest counsels, I,
And love him while I tell him truth; old Aubrey
Dares goe the straightest way, which still's the shortest,
Walk on the thorns thou scatter'st, Parasite,
And tread 'em into nothing: and if thou
Then let'st a look fall, of the least dislike,
I'll rip thy Crown up with my Sword at height,
And pluck thy skin over thy face, in sight
Of him thou flatter'st; unto thee I speak it,
Slave, against whom all Laws should now conspire,
And every Creature that hath sense, be arm'd,
As 'gainst the common Enemy of Mankind;
That sleep'st within thy Masters Ear, and whisper'st
'Tis better for him to be fear'd than lov'd;
Bid'st him trust no mans friendship, spare no blood
That may secure him: 'tis no cruelty
That hath a specious end; for Soveraignty
Break all the Laws of kind; if it succeed,
An honest, noble, and praise-worthy deed;
While he that takes thy poysons in, shall feel
Their virulent workings in a point of time,
When no Repentance can bring aid, but all
His spirits shall melt, with what his Conscience burn'd,
And dying in flatterers arms, shall fall unmourn'd.
There's matter for you now.

Lat. My Lord, this makes not for loving of my Master.

Aub. Loving? no;
They hate ill Princes most that make them so.

Enter Rollo, Hamond, Allan, Guard.

Rol. I'll hear no more.

Ham. Alas, 'tis for my Brother: I beseech your Highness.

Rol. How, a Brother? had not I one my self? did title
Move me when it was fit that he should dye? away.

All. Brother, lose no word more, leave my good Cause
T' upbraid the Tyrant, I'm glad I'm faln
Now in those times that will'd some great example
T' assure men we can dye for honesty.

Rol. Sir, you are brave, 'pray that you hold your neck
As bravely forth anon unto your Headsman.

All. Would he would strike as bravely, and thou by,
Rollo, 'twould make thee quake to see me dye.

Aub. What's his offence?

Ham. For giving Gisbert burial, who was sometimes his Master.

All. Yes, Lord Aubrey,
My gratitude and humanity are my crimes.

Rol. Why bear you him not hence?

Aub. My Lord, (stay Souldiers)
I do beseech your Highness, do not lose
Such men for such slight causes. This is one
Has still been faithful to you, a try'd soul
In all your fathers Battles; I have seen him
Bestride a friend against a score of Foes,
And look, he looks as he would kill his hundred
For you, Sir, were you in some danger.

All. Till he kill'd his Brother, his Chancellour, then his
Master, to which he can add nought to equal Nero,
But killing of his Mother.

Aub. Peace, brave Fool,
Thou valiant Ass: here is his Brother too, Sir,
A Captain of your Guard, hath serv'd you long,
With the most noble witness of his truth
Mark'd in his face, and every part about him,
That turns not from an enemy. But view him,
Oh do not grieve him, Sir, if you do mean
That he shall hold his place: it is not safe
To tempt such spirits, and let them wear their Swords,
You'll make your Guards your terrours by these Acts,
And throw more hearts off from you than you hold;
And I must tell you, Sir, (with my old freedom,
And my old faith to boot) you have not liv'd so
But that your state will need such men, such hands
Of which here's one, shall in an hour of tryal,
Do you more certain service with a stroke,
Than the whole bundle of your flatterers
With all the unsavory unction of their tongues.

Rol. Peace, talker.

Aub. One that loves you yet, my Lord,
And would not see you pull on your own ruines.
Mercy becomes a Prince, and guards him best,
Awe and affrights are never tyes of Love;
And when men begin to fear the Prince, they hate him.

Rol. Am I the Prince, or you?

Aub. My Lord, I hope I have not utter'd ought should
urge that question.

Rol. Then practise your obedience, see him dead.

Aub. My Lord?

Rol. I'll hear no more.

Aub. I'm sorry then; there's no small despair, Sir, of their
Safety, whose ears are blockt up against truth; come, captain.

Ham. I thank you, Sir.

Aub. For what? for seeing thy brother die a man, and honest?
Live thou so, Captain, I will assure thee,
Although I die for't too; come— [Ex. all but Rol. & Lat.

Rol. Now Latorch, what do you think?

Lat. That Aubrey's speech and manners sound somewhat of the boldest.

Rol. 'Tis his custome.

Lat. It may be so, and yet be worth a fear.

Rol. If we thought so, it should be worth his life, and quickly too.

Lat. I dare not, Sir, be authour
Of what I would be, 'tis so dangerous:
But with your Highness favour and your licence.

Rol. He talks, 'tis true; he is licens'd: leave him,
We now are Duke alone, Latorch, secur'd;
Nothing left standing to obscure our prospect,
We look right forth, beside, and round about us,
And see it ours with pleasure: only one
Wish'd joy there wants to make us to possess it,
And that is Edith, Edith, she that got me
In blood and tears, in such an opposite minute,
As had I not at once felt all the flames
And shafts of Love shot in me (his whole armory)
I should have thought him as far off as Death.

Lat. My Lord, expect a while, your happiness
Is nearer than you think it, yet her griefs
Are green and fresh, your vigilant Latorch
Hath not been idle; I have leave already
To visit her, and send to her.

Rol. My life.

Lat. And if I find not out as speedy ways,
And proper instruments to work and bring her
To your fruition; that she be not watch'd
Tame to your Highness wish, say you have no servant
Is capable of such a trust about you,
Or worthy to be Secretary of your pleasure.

Rol. Oh my Latorch, what shall I render thee
For all thy travels, care, and love?

Lat. Sir, one suit, which I will ever importune, till you grant me.

Rol. About your Mathematicians?

Lat. Yes, to have
The Scheme of your Nativity judg'd by them,
I have't already erected; O my Lord,
You do not know the labour of my fears,
My doubts for you are such as cannot hope
Any security, but from the Stars;
Who, being rightly ask'd, can tell man more
Than all power else, there being no power beyond them.

Rol. All thy petitions still are care of us,
Ask for thy self.

Lat. What more can concern me, than this?

Rol. Well, rise true honest man, and go then,
We'l study our selves a means how to reward thee.

Lat. Your grace is now inspir'd; now, now your highness
Begins to live, from this hour count your joyes:
But, Sir, I must have warrants, with blanks figur'd,
To put in names, such as I like.

Rol. You shall.

Lat. They dare not else offer, Sir, at your figure?
Oh I shall bring you wonders; there's a Frier
Rusee, an admirable man, another
A Gentleman, and then Lafiske,
The mirrour of his time; 'twas he that set it.
But there's one Norbret, (him I never saw)
Has made a mirrour, a meer Looking-glass,
In shew you'ld think't no other; the form oval,
As I am given to understand by letter,
Which renders you such shapes, and those so differing,
And some that will be question'd and give answers;
Then has he set it in a frame, that wrought
Unto the revolutions of the Stars,
And so compact by due proportions
Unto their harmony, doth move alone
A true automaton; thus Dædalus Statues,
Or Vulcans Tools—

Rol. Dost thou believe this?

Lat. Sir? why, what should stay my faith, or turn my sense?
He has been about it above twenty years,
Three sevens, the powerfull, and the perfect numbers;
And Art and time, Sir, can produce such things.
What do I read there of Hiarbas banquet?
The great Gymnosophist, that had his Butlers
And carvers of pure gold waiting at table?
The images of Mercury, too, that spoke?
The wooden door that flew? a snake of brass
That hist? and birds of Silver that did sing?
All those new done by the Mathematicks,
Without which there's no science, nor no truth.

Rol. You are in your sphear, Latorch: and rather
Than I'le contend w'ye for it, I'le believe it,
Y'have won upon me that I wish to see
My fate before me now, what e're it be.

Lat. And I'le endeavour, you shall know with speed,
For which I should have one of trust go with me,
If you please, Hamond, that I may by him
Send you my first dispatches; after I
Shall bring you more, and as they come still more.

Rol. Take your way,
Choose your own means, and be it prosperous to us.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Rusee, de Bube, la Fiske, Norbret, Pippeau.

Rus. Come, bear up Sirs, we shall have better days,
My Almanack tells me.

Bub. What is that? your rump?

Rus. It never itch'd in vain yet, slide la Fiske,
Throw off thy sluggish face, I cannot abide
To see thee look like a poor Jade i'th' pound,
That saw no meat these three days.

Fiske. 'Slight, to me
It seems thirteen dayes since I saw any.

Rus. How?

Fis. I can't remember that I ever saw
Or meat or mony, you may talk of both
To open a mans stomach or his purse,
But feed 'em still with air.

Bub. Friar, I fear
You do not say your Office well a dayes.

Nor. Pox, he feeds
With leachery, and lives upon th' exchange
Of his two Eggs and Puddings with the market women.

Rus. And what do you Sir, with the Advocates wife,
Whom you perswade, upon your Doctoral bed,
To take the Mathematical trance so often?

Fis. Come, we are stark naught all, bad's the best of us,
Four of the seven deadly spots we are;
Besides our Leachery, we are envious,
And most, most gluttonous when we have it thus,
Most covetous now we want it; then our Boy
He is a fifth spot, sloth and he undoes us.

Bub. 'Tis true, the child was wont to be industrious,
And now and then sent to a Merchants wife
Sick of the Husband, or a swearing Butler
That mist of his Bowls, a crying Maid
Had lost a Silver spoon; the Curry comb
Sometimes was wanting; there was something gotten;
But now—

Pip. What now? Did not I yester-morning
Bring you in a Cardecu there from the Peasant,
Whose ass I had driven aside, and hid, that you
Might conjure for him? and then last night,
Six Soulz from the Cooks wife, you shar'd among you
To set a figure for the Pestle I stole,
It is not at home yet; these things, my Masters,
In a hard time, they would be thought on: you
Talk of your lands and Castles in the air,
Of your twelve houses there: but it is I
That bring you in your rents for 'em, 'tis Pippeau
That is your bird-call.

Nor. Faith he does well,
And cuts through the Elements for us, I must needs say
In a fine dextrous line.

Fis. But not as he did
At first, then he would sail with any wind
Int' every Creek and Corner.

Pip. I was light then,
New built and rigg'd when I came to you, Gentlemen,
But now with often and far venturing for you
Here be leaks sprung, and whole Planks wanting see you;
If you'l new sheath me again, yet I am for you
To any bog or sleights, where e're you'l send me,
For as I am, where can this ragged Bark
Put in for any service; 'less it be
O'th' Isle of Rogues, and there turn Pirate for you.

Nor. Faith he says reason, Fryer, you must leave
Your neat crisp Claret, and fall to your Cyder
A while; and you la Fiske, your larded Capons
And Turkys for a time, and take a good
Clean Tripe in your way; de Bube too must content him with
wholsom two souz'd petitoes, no more Crown Ordinaries,
till we have cloath'd our Infant.

Bub. So you'l keep
Your own good motions, Doctor, your dear self.

Fis. Yes, for we all do know the Latitude
Of your Concupiscence.

Rus. Here about your belly.

Bub. You'l pick a bottle open or a whimsey,
As soon as the best of us.
Fis. And dip your wrist-bands,
(For Cuffs y'have none) as comely in the sauce [The Bell rings.
As any Courtier—hark, the Bell, who is there?

Rus. Good luck I do conjure thee; Boy look out.

Pip. They are Gallants, courtiers, one of 'em is

[Exit and enter again.

Of the Dukes bed-chamber.

Rus. Latorch, down,
On with your gown, there's a new suite arriv'd, [To Norbret.
Did I not tell you, Sons of hunger? Crowns,
Crowns are coming toward you, wine and wenches
You shall have once again, and Fidlers:
Into your studyes close; each lay his ear
To his door, and as you hear me to prepare you
So come, and put me on that visard only.

Enter Latorch, Hamond.

Lat. You'l not be far hence Captain, when the
Business is done you shall receive present dispatch.

Ham. I'le walk Sir, in the Cloyster. [Exit.

Rus. Monsieur Latorch; my Son,
The Stars are happy still that guide you hither.

Lat. I'me glad to hear their Secretary say so,
My learned Father Russe, where's la Fiske,
Monsieur de Bube, how do they?

Rus. At their studyes,
They are the Secretaries of the Stars, Sir,
Still at their books, they will not be pull'd off,
They stick like cupping glasses; if ever men
Spoke with the tongue of destiny, 'tis they.

Lat. For loves sake let's salute 'em.

Rus. Boy, go see,
Tell them who's here, say, that their friends do challenge
Some portion of their time, this is our minute,
Pray 'em they'l spare it: they are the Sun and Moon
Of knowledge; pity two such noble lights
Should live obscur'd here in an University,
Whose beams were fit to'illumine any court
Of Christendom.

Enter la Fisk, de Bube, and Pippeau.

Lat. The Duke will shortly know 'em.

Fis. Well, look upon the Astrolabe; you'l find it
Four Almucanturies at least.

Bub. It is so.

Rus. Still of their learned stuff, they care for nothing,
But how to know, as negli[g]ent of their bodies
In dyet, or else, especially in their cloaths,
As if they had no change.

Pip. They have so little
As well may free them from the name of shifters.

Fis. Monsieur Latorch?

Lat. How is it, learned Gentlemen, with both your vertues?

Bub. A most happy hour, when we see you, Sir.

Lat. When you hear me then
It will be happier; the Duke greets you both
Thus, and though you may touch no mony, Father,
Yet you may take it.

Rus. 'Tis his highness bounty,
But yet to me, and these that have put off
The world, superfluous.

Fis. We have heard of late of his highness good success.

Bub. And gratulate it.

Lat. Indeed he hath scap'd a strange Conspiracy,
Thanks to his Stars; which Stars he prayes by me,
You would again consult, and make a Judgement
On what you lately erected for my love.

Rus. Oh, Sir, we dare not.

Fis. For our lives.

Bub. It is the Princes Scheam.

Lat. T'incounter with that fear,
Here's to assure you, his Signet, write your names,
And be secured all three.

Bu[b]. We must intreat some time, Sir.

Lat. I must then intreat it, be as present as you can.

Fis. Have you the Scheam here?

Lat. Yes.

Rus. I would you had Sir another warrant.

Lat. What would that do?

Rus. Marry we have a Doctor Sir, that in this business
Would not perform the second part.

Lat. Not him that you writ to me of?

Rus. The very same.

Lat. I should have made it, Sir, my suit to see him,
Here is a warrant Father, I conceiv'd
That he had solely applyed himself to Magick.

Rus. And to their studies too Sir, in this field
He was initiated, but we shall hardly
Draw him from his chair.

Lat. Tell him he shall have gold.

Fis. Oh, such a syllable would make him to forswear
Ever to breath in your sight.

Lat. How then?

Fis. Sir, he if you do please to give him any thing,
Must have't convey'd under a paper.

Rus. Or left behind some book in his study.

Bub. Or in some old wall.

Fis. Where his familiars may tell him of it, and that pleases him, Sir.

Bub. Or else I'le go and assay him.

Lat. Take gold with you.

Rus. That will not be amiss; give it the Boy, Sir,
He knows his holes, and how to bait his Spirits.

Pip. We must lay in several places, Sir.

Rus. That's true, that if one come not, the other may hit.

Lat. Well, go then, is he so learned, Gentlemen?

Fis. The very top of our profession; mouth of the fates,
Pray Heaven his Spirits be in a good humor to take,
They'l fling the gold about the house else.

Bub. I, and beat the Fryer if he go not well
Furnisht with holy-water.

Fis. Sir, you must observe him.

Bub. Not cross him in a word, for then he's gone.

Fis. If he do come, which is a hazard, yet—
Mass he's here, this is speed.

Enter Norb[re]t, Russ, Pippeau.

Nor. Where is our Scheme,
Let's see, dispatch, nay fumbling now, who's this?

Rus. Chief Gentleman of the Dukes Chamber, Doctor.

Nor. Oh, let him be, good even to him, he's a courtier,
I'le spare his complement, tell him: what's here?
The geniture Nocturnal, Longitude
At forty nine and ten minutes? How are the cardins?

Fis. Libra in twenty four, forty four minutes,
And Capricorn.

Nor. I see it, see the Planets,
Where, how are they dispos'd? the Sun and Mercury,
Mars with the Dragons tail in the third house,
And pars Fortunæ in the Imo Cœli,
Then Jupiter in the twelfth, the Cacodemon.

Bub. And Venus in the second Inferna Porta.

Nor. I see it, peace, then Saturn in the Fifth,
Luna i'th' Seventh, and much of Scorpio,
Then Mars his Gaudium, rising in th'ascendent,
And joyn'd with Libra too, the house of Venus,
And [Imum] Cœli, Mars his exaltation
In the seventh house, Aries being his natural house
And where he is now seated, and all these shew him
To be the Almuten.

Rus. Yes, he's Lord of the Geniture,
Whether you examine it by Ptolomeys way,
Or Messethales, Lael, or Alkindus.

Fis. No other Planet hath so many dignities
Either by himself, or in regard of the Cusps.

Nor. Why hold your tongue then if you know it; Venus
The Lady of the Horoscope, being Libra,
The other part, Mars rules: So that the geniture,
Being Nocturnal, Luna is the highest,
None else being in sufficient dignity,
She being in Aries in the Seventh house,
Where Sol exalted, is the Alchoroden.

Bub. Yes, for you see he hath his Termin
In the degrees where she is, and enjoyes
By that, six dignities.

Fis. Which are clearly more
Than any else that view her in the Scheam.

Nor. Why I saw this, and could have told you too,
That he beholds her with a Trine aspect
Here out of Sagittary, almost partile,
And how that Mars out of the self same house,
(But another Sign) here by a Platique aspect
Looks at the Hilege, with a Quartile ruling
The house where the Sun is; all this could I
Have told you, but that you'll outrun me; and more,
That this same Quartile aspect to the Lady of life,
Here in the seventh, promises some danger,
Cauda Draconis being so near Mars,
And Caput Algol in the house of Death.

Lat. How, Sir? I pray you clear that.

Nor. What is the question first?

Rus. Of the Dukes life, what dangers threaten him?

Nor. Apparent, and those suddain, when the Hyley
Or Alchorodon by direction come
To a Quartile opposition of the place
Where Mars is in the Geniture (which is now
At hand) or else oppose to Mars himself; expect it.

Lat. But they may be prevented.

Nor. Wisdom only
That rules the Stars, may do it; for Mars being
Lord of the Geniture in Capricorn,
Is, if you mark it, now a Sextile here,
With Venus Lady of the Horoscope.
So she being in her Exilium, which is Scorpio,
And Mars his Gaudium, is o'rerul'd by him,
And clear debilitated five degrees
Beneath her ordinary power, so
That, at the most she can but mitigate.

Lat. You cannot name the persons bring this danger?

Nor. No, that the Stars tell us not, they name no man,
That is a work, Sir, of another place.

Rus. Tell him whom you suspect, and he'll guess shrewdly.

Lat. Sir, we do fear one Aubrey; if 'twere he
I should be glad; for we should soon prevent him.

Fis. I know him, the Dukes Kinsman, a tall man?
Lay hold of't Norbret.

Nor. Let me pause a little,
Is he not near of kin unto the Duke?

Lat. Yes, reverend Sir.

Nor. 'Fart for your reverence, keep it till then; and somewhat high of stature?

Lat. He is so.

Nor. How old is he?

Fis. About seven and fifty.

Nor. His head and beard inclining to be grey.

Lat. Right, Sir.

Fis. And fat?

Nor. He is somewhat corpulent, is he not?

Lat. You speak the man, Sir.

Nor. Well, look to him, farewel. [Exit Norb.

Lat. Oh, it is Aubrey; Gentlemen, I pray you,
Let me receive this under all your hands.

Rus. Why, he will shew you him in his Magick glass
If you intreat him, and but gratifie
A spirit or two more.

Lat. He shall eat gold
If he will have it, so shall you all; there's that
Amongst you first, let me have this to send
The Duke in the mean time; and then what sights
You please to shew; I'le have you so rewarded
As never Artists were, you shall to Court
Along with me, and there wait you[r] fortunes.

Bub. We have a pretty part of't in our pockets;
Boy we will all be new, you shall along too. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Sophia, Matilda, and Edith.

Mat. Good Madam, hear the suit that Edith urges,
With such submiss beseeches; nor remain
So strictly bound to sorrow for your son,
That nothing else, though never so befitting,
Obtains your ears, or observation.

Sop. What would she say? I hear.

Edith. My suit is, Madam,
That you would please to think as well of justice
Due to your sons revenge, as of more wrong added
To both your selves for it, in only grieving.
Th' undaunted power of Princes should not be
Confin'd in deedless cold calamity;
Anger, the Twin of sorrow, in your wrongs
Should not be smother'd, when his right of birth
Claims th' Air as well, and force of coming forth.

Sop. Sorrow is due already, anger never
Should be conceived but where it may [be] born
In some fact fit t'employ his active flame,
That else consumes who bears it, and abides
Like a false star that quenches as it glides.

Ed. I have such means t'employ it as your wish
Can think no better, easier, or securer;
And such as but th' honours I intend
To your partakings, I alone could end:
But your parts in all dues to crying blood
For vengeance in the shedder, are much greater:
And therefore should work your hands to his slaughter.
For your consent to which, 'twere infinite wrong
To your severe and most impartial justice,
To move you to forget so false a son
As with a Mothers duty made you curse him.

Mat. Edith, he is forgot, for any son
Born of my Mother, or to me a Brother.
For should we still perform our rights to him
We should partake his wrongs, and as foul be
In blood and damned parricide as he.
And therefore tell the happy means that Heaven
Puts in thy hand, for all our long'd for freedom
From so abhorr'd and impious a monster.

Sop. Tell what she will, I'le lend nor hand nor ear
To whatsoever Heaven puts in her power. [Exit Sophia.

Mat. How strange she is to what she chiefly wishes!
Sweet Edith be not any thought the more
Discourag'd in thy purpose, but assured,
Her heart and prayers are thine; and that we two
Shall be enough to all we wish to do.

Edith. Madam, my self alone, I make no doubt
Shall be afforded power enough from Heaven
To end the murtherer: all I wish of you,
Is but some richer Ornaments and Jewels
Than I am able to provide my self,
To help out the defects of my poor Beauty,
That yet hath been enough, as now it is,
To make his fancy mad with my desire.
But you know, Madam, Women never can
Be too fair to torment an amorous man;
And this mans torments I would heighten still,
Till at their highest he be fit to kill.

Mat. Thou shalt have all my Jewels and my Mothers,
And thou shalt paint too, that his bloods desire
May make him perish in a painted fire;
Hast thou been with him yet?

Edith. Been with him? no;
I set that hour back to haste more his longing;
But I have promis'd to his instruments,
The admittance of a visit at our house,
Where yet I would receive him with all lustre
My sorrow would give leave to, to remove
Suspicion of my purpose.

Mat. Thou shalt have
All I can add, sweet wench, in Jewels, tyres,
I'le be my self thy dresser; nor may I
Serve my own love with a contracted Husband
More sweetly, nor more amply than maist thou
Thy forward will with his bewitch'd affections:
Affect'st thou any personal aid of mine
My noblest Edith?

Edith. Nought but your kind prayers
For full effect and speed of my affair.

Mat. They are thine, my Edith, as for me, my own;
For thou well know'st, if blood shed of the best
Should cool and be forgotten, who would fear
To shed blood still? or where, alas, were then
The endless love we owe to worthy men?

Ed. Love of the worthiest ever bless your highness. [Exe.

Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 04 of 10

About This Book

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

SCENE II.

SCENE III.