They'll beat us with their Oars.
Oh sink 'em, sink 'em, sink 'em, claw 'em Gunner;
As ever thou hast lov'd me.
But I'll be hang'd before I'll hurt the Lady. [Exit Gun.
Put this base trick into her tail? my Daughter,
And run away with rogues! I hope she's sunk, [A piece or two.
Or torn to pieces with the shot, rots find her,
The leprosie of whore stick ever to her,
Oh she has ruin'd my revenge.
Enter Gunner.
I cannot reach her with my shot.
Blow till ye burst the Air, and swell the Seas,
That they may sink the Stars, Oh dance her, dance her;
Shee's impudently wanton, dance her, dance her,
Mount her upon your surges, cool her, cool her;
She runs hot like a whore, cool her, cool her,
Oh now a shot to sink her, cut Cables,
I will away, and where she sets her foot
Although it be in Ferrants Court, I'll follow her,
And such a Fathers vengeance shall she suffer——
Dare any man stand by me?
For I shall never sleep nor know what peace is,
Till I have pluckt her heart out;
Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter Ferrant, Ronvere, Castruccio, Villio, and Guard.
The creatures I have made, no way regard me:
Why should I give you names, titles of honor,
Rob families to fill your private houses.
For your advancement, draw all curses on me,
Wake tedious winter nights, to make them happy
That for me break no slumber?
We dare do.
(In which you live, and in whose fall your honors,
Your wealth, your pomp, your pride, and all must suffer)
No better guarded? Oh my cruel Stars,
That mark me out a King, raising me on
This pinnacle of greatness, only to be
The nearer blasting!
Is not this a merry life?
The common Butt, for every slave to shoot at;
No peace, no rest I take, but their alarms
Beat at my heart: why do I live, or seek then,
To add a day more to these glorious troubles?
Or to what end when all I can arrive at,
Is but the summing up of fears and sorrows?
What power has my command, when from my bosom
Ascanio, my most dear, and lov'd Ascanio,
Was snatch'd, spite of my Will, spite of my Succor,
And by mine own proud slave, retein'd most miserable?
And still that villain lives to nip my pleasures,
It being not within my power to reach him.
Whose counsel never fail'd you.
I faint beneath the burthen of my cares;
And yield my self most wretched.
I beg it, mighty Sir, vouchsafe me hearing.
Will hear what thou canst say.
Has not a man that has but means to keep
A Hawk, a Greyhound, and a Hunting Nag,
More pleasure than this King?
Make me a King, and let me scratch with care,
And see who'll have the better; give me rule
Command, obedience, pleasure of a King,
And let the Devil roar; The greatest corrosive
A King can have, is of more precious tickling,
And handled to the height, more dear delight,
Than other mens whole lives, let 'em be safe too.
Give me the pleasure, let me do all, awe all,
Enjoy their Wives and States at my discretion,
And peg 'em when I please, let the slaves mumble.
And see if they can crack my girths: ah Villio,
Under the Sun there's nothing so voluptuous
As riding of this Monster, till he founder.
Kings looks make Pythagoreans; is not this
A happiness Villio?
A fawning sycophant.
And mercy is a vice, when there needs rigor,
Which I, with all severity, will practice;
And since, as subjects they pay not obedience,
They shall be forc'd as slaves: I will remove
Their means to hurt, and with the means, my fears;
Goe you the fatal executioners
Of my commands, and in our name proclaim,
That from this hour I do forbid all meetings,
All private conferences in the City:
To feast a neighbor shall be death: to talk,
As they meet in the streets, to hold discourse,
By writing, nay by signs; see this perform'd,
And I will call your cruelty, to those
That dare repine at this, to me true service.
If we grow not rich, 'twere fit we should be beggars.
What think'st thou of a kingdom?
That hath power to do ill.
That does divide an Empire with the gods;
Observe but with how little breath he shakes
A populous City, which would stand unmov'd
Against a whirlwind.
Were I offer'd to be any thing on earth
I would be mighty Ferrant.
Deliver thy thoughts slave, thy thoughts, and truly
Or be no more.
Your favour than your fury; I admire,
(As who does not, that is a loyal subject?)
Your wisdom, power, your perfect happiness,
The most blest of mankind.
The weighty sorrows that sit on a Crown,
Though thou shouldst find one in the streets Castruccio.
Thou wouldst not think it worth the taking up;
But since thou art enamour'd of my fortune,
Thou shalt e'r long taste of it.
And then let me expire.
And of the richest things I wear, cull out,
What thou thinkst fit: do you attend him sirrah?
The fool will never leave him. [Exit Cast., Villio.
Enter Virolet, Ascanio, and a Servant.
Speak joy than danger.
Bring her to my house,
I would not have her seen here.
The most desir'd of all men, let me die
In these embraces; how wert thou redeem'd?
I will enquire the manner, and the means,
I cannot spare so much time now from my
More strickt embraces: Virolet, welcome too,
This service weighs down your intended Treason;
You long have been mine enemy, learn now
To be my friend and loyal, I ask no more,
And live as free as Ferrant; let him have
The forty thousand crowns I gladly promis'd,
For my Ascanio's freedom, and deliver
His Father, and his wife to him in safety,
Something hath passed which I am sorry for,
But 'twill not now be help'd; come my Ascanio,
And reap the harvest of my winter travels. [Flourish Cornets.
My best Ascanio, my lov'd Ascanio.
I am become a suitor.
But largely pay you for it.
I will bestow on you, if by your means
I may have liberty for a divorce
Between me and my wife.
That for you hath indur'd so much, so nobly?
For mine own ends, I would have further'd this.
I will use all my power.
Oh my curs'd fate, that ever man should hate
Himself for being belov'd, or be compell'd
To cast away a Jewel, Kings would buy,
Though with the loss of Crown and Monarchy! [Exeunt.
Enter Sesse, Master, Boatswain, Gunner.
We scarce can know you, so young again, and utterly
From that you were, figure, or any favour;
Your friends cannot discern you.
None but my fair revenge, and let that know me!
You are finely alter'd too.
But we may pass without disguise, our living
Was never in their element.
That alter'd you, is a mad knave.
And run your beard into a peak of twenty.
As if you were to leap into a Ladies saddle.
Has he not set your nose awry?
North and by East, I, there's the point it stands in;
Now halfe a point to the Southward.
But that my business requires no mirth now;
Thou art a merry fellow.
Could steer my head right, for I have such a swimming in't,
Ever since I went to Sea first.
A thousand pottle Pills.
Your patient is easily perswaded.
Methinks this Jew
If he were truly known to founder'd Courtiers,
And decay'd Ladies that have lost their fleeces
On every bush, he might pick a pretty living.
For if you mark their marches, they are tender,
Soft, soft, and tender; then but observe their bodies,
And you shall find 'em cemented by a Surgeon,
Or some Physitian for a year or two,
And then to th' tub again, for a new pickle.
This Jew might live a Gentile here.
[Ent. 2 Cittizens at both doors, saluting afar off.
Stand close and mark?
This senceless, silent courtesie methinks,
Shews like two Turks, saluting one another,
Upon two French Porters backs.
And this, some forc'd infliction from the tyrant;
What are you, why is this? why move thus silent
As if you were wandring shadows? why so sad?
Your tongues seal'd up; are ye of several Countries?
You understand not one another?
He looks as though he had lost his dog.
Shew ye all Neopolitanes; and your faces
Deliver you oppressed things; speak boldly:
Do you groan and labor under this stiff yoak?
Give plenteous sorrow, and no tongues to shew 'em!
This is a studied cruelty.
It seems you are a stranger, and save your self.
To hear you speak so openly, and boldly,
The Kings command being publisht to the contrary;
'Tis death here, above two, to talk together;
And that must be but common salutation neither,
Short, and so part.
If he be forc'd to stay the making of it?
Enter Castruccio like the King, in the midst of a Guard. Villio.
And pluck me down the Row
Of houses there.
They hide the view o'th' hill; and sink those Merchants,
Their ships are foul and stink.
Their houses and their wives, their wealths are forfeit,
Their lives at your devotion. Villains, Knaves,
I'll make you bow and shake, I'll make you kneel Rogues.
How brave 'tis to b[e] a King!
Of present death, forget to write.
Carriers and Footposts, will be arrant rebels.
This mans intention, to that man i'th' Countrey.
Your friend and Oliver. No more.
And wear face of mirth; that fellows cunning,
And hides a double heart, he's your prize, smoke him.
Enter Virolet, Ronvero, Ascanio, and Martia passing over.
My prisoners with her too? by heaven wild whore
Now is my time.
My Countrey shall be serv'd first, let her go,
We'll have an hour for her to make her tremble.
Now shew our selves, and bless you with your valours.
I say no mercy.
Wear no more Kings coats, you have scap'd a scouring.
The puppy makes him mirth.
I'll do't in my Belt straight.
It is enough you may hang me.
That shall blow both his buttocks; like a petard.
But do not kill me Gentlemen. [Enter Citizen.
The King himself is coming on; if you stay,
You are lost for ever; let not so much nobleness
Wilfully perish.
Enter Ferand, Ronvere. Florish Cornets.
These slaves are frighted; where are the proud Rebels?
To what protection fled? what villain leads 'em?
Under our nose distur[b]'d our rest?
How now Castruchio? how do you like our glory?
This open glory agrees not with my body,
But if it were i'th' Castle, or some strength,
Where I might have my swinge.
How these delights have tickled you! you itch yet?
Will you walk out again in pomp?
These peremptory Knaves. Will you walk out Sir,
And take the remnant of your Coronation?
The people stay to see it.
H'as grief enough in's bones; you shall to the Citadel,
And like my self command, there use your pleasure,
But take heed to your person.
Still the more honor Brother.
And like a King, and thou shalt know it fool,
And thou shalt feel it fool.
I'll sue for a protection, till thy reign's out.
I late allow'd, I now proclaim it straighter,
No men shall walk together nor salute;
For they that do shall dye.
That liberty cut off, you are free from practise.
One hour of joy I ask.
Pandulfo and Juliana, led by two of the guard, as not yet fully recovered.
And here our charge takes end.
We must even wooe those men deserve worst of us,
And so we thank your labors; there's to drink,
For that, and mischief are your occupations;
And to mean well to no man, your chief'st harvests.
To be oftner acquainted with your bounty,
And so we leave you.
Or what share have I in this joy, call'd liberty,
Without his company? Why did you flatter me,
And tell me he was return'd, his service honor'd?
His friends redeemed, and his own liberty,
From which yours is deriv'd, confirm'd; his service,
To his own wish, rewarded: so fare-well Lady. [Ex. Guard.
Ye Leeches of the time, suck till ye burst slaves;
How does my girl?
That joys, and leaps, to hear my Virolet,
My Dear, my life, has conquer'd his afflictions.
That durst upon thy tender body print
These Characters of cruelty; hear me heaven.
And tho the ayr had ears, and serv'd the Tyrant,
Out it should go: O he[a]re me thou great Justice;
The miseries that wait upon their mischiefs,
Let them be numberless, and no eye pitty
Them when their souls are loaden, and in labour,
And wounded through, and through, with guilt and horror;
As mine is now with grief; let men laugh at 'em
Then, when their monstrous sins, like earth-quakes, shake 'em,
And those eyes, that forgot heaven would look upward,
The bloody 'larms, of the conscience beating,
Let mercy flye, and day strook into darkness,
Leave their blind souls, to hunt out their own horrors.
For then we are glorious formes of heaven; and live,
When we can suffer, and as soon forgive.
But where's my Lord? methinks I have seen this house,
And have been in't before.
I think it cannot be; it was not wont Father.
Reteins him sure. [Enter Boy.
For all men that he treats with tast of virtue;
His words and actions are his own; and Honour's
Not brought, nor compell'd from him.
He can confirm us more, how sad the child looks!
Come hither Lucio; how, and where's thy Master?
Our hopes and happiness declin'd for ever;
Study a sorrow excellent as thy Master,
Then if thou canst live leave us.
My Lord is safe return'd, safe to his friends, and fortune,
Safe to his Countrey, entertain'd with honour,
Is here within the house.
And in his eyes inhabit such sad shadowes;
But what the cause is——
Tell him his wife is here, sound my name to him,
And thou shalt see him start; speak Juliana,
And like the Sun that labors through a tempest,
How suddainly he will disperse his sadness!
And charge him on his duty.
I would fain go to him.
I warrant you he did not: could you think
His love had less than wings, had he but seen me;
His strong affection any thing but fire
Consuming all weak lets and rubs before it,
Till he had met my flame, and made one body?
If ever heavens high blessings met in one man,
And there erected to their holy uses
A sacred mind fit for their services,
Built all of polisht honor, 'twas in this man:
Misdoubt him not.
But why this sadness, when the general cause
Requires a Jubile of joy?
O here he comes, and with him all my happiness;
He stays and thinks, we may be too unmannerly;
Pray give him leave. [they stand off.
Unheard of plagues! when to behold that woman,
That chast and virtuous woman, that preserv'd me,
That pious wife, wedded to my afflictions,
Must be more terrible than all my dangers.
O fortune, thou hast rob'd me of my making,
The noble building of a man, demolisht,
And flung me headlong, on a sin so base
Man and mankind contemn; even beasts abhor it,
A sin more dull than drink, a shame beyond it;
So foul, and far from faith; I dare not name it,
But it will cry it self out, loud ingratitude.
Your blessing Sir.
So is our joy, to see you safe.
That she must weep for joy, and loose that goodness?
My Juliana, even the best of women,
Of wives the perfectest, let me speak this,
And with a modesty declare thy vertues,
Chaster than Chrystal, on the Scythian Clifts
The more the proud winds Court, the more the purer.
Sweeter in thy obedience than a Sacrifice;
And in thy mind a Saint, that even yet living,
Producest miracles, and women daily,
With crooked and lame souls creep to thy goodness,
Which having toucht at, they become examples.
The fortitude of all their sex, is Fable
Compar'd to thine; and they that fill'd up glory,
And admiration, in the age behind us,
Out of their celebrated urns, are started,
To stare upon the greatness of thy spirit;
Wondring what new Martyr heaven has begot,
To fill the times with truth, and ease their stories:
Being all these, and excellent in beauty,
(For noble things dwell in the noblest buildings)
Thou hast undone thy husband, made him wretched,
A miserable man, my Juliana,
Thou hast made thy Virolet.
Weep not, but speak, I charge you on obedience;
Your Father charges you, she make you miserable?
That you your self confess.
And far less I have spoke her than her merit.
For sure my Will——
Forgive me heaven, that I prophane thy blessings:
Sit still; I'll shew you all. [Exit Virolet.
For sure there is no tast of right man in it;
Grieves he our liberty, our preservation?
Or has the greatness of the deed he has done,
Made him forget, for whom, and how he did it,
And looking down upon us, scorn the benefit?
Well Virolet, if thou beest proud, or treacherous.
And with that reason ground his words.
Enter Virolet, Martia, Ronvere.