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Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 09 of 10

Chapter 26: Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.
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About This Book

This volume collects several early seventeenth-century stage plays that blend comedy and tragicomedy. Action ranges from tempest-driven shipwrecks and desert-island survival to inns and courtly settings, where mistaken identities, romantic entanglements, revenge plots, and duels unfold. Plotting alternates tense situations with witty dialogue and comic relief as characters test loyalty, honor, and social pretension. Through abrupt reversals of fortune and reconciliations, the plays examine desire, deception, and the uncertain limits of virtue amid chaotic circumstances.

Gent. The Duke my Lord commands your speedy presence
For answering agrievances lately urg'd
Against you by your Mother?
Cesar. By my Mother.
Gent. The Court is near on sitting.
Cesar. I wait on it Sir.— [Exeunt.

Enter Duke, Magistrate, Secretary, Baptista, Attendants, Mentivole: (they sit) Mentivole stands by.

Duke. What waste of blood, what tumults, what divisions,
What outrages, what uprores in a State,
Factions, though issuing from mean springs at first,
Have (not restrain'd) flowed to, the sad example
At Rome, between the Ursins and Columni's:
Nay, here at home, in Florence, 'twixt the Neers
And the Bianchi, can too mainly witness.
I sit not at the Helm (my Lords) of Sovereignty
Deputed Pilot for the Common-wealth,
To sleep while others steere (as their wild fancies
Shall counsel) by the compass of disorders.
Baptista, This short Preface is directed
Chiefly to you, the petty brawls and quarrels
Late urg'd betwixt th' Alberti and your family;
Must, yes, and shall, like tender unknit joynts,
Fasten again together of themselves:
Or like an angry Chyrurgion, we will use
The roughness of our justice, to cut off
The stubborn rancour of the limbes offending.
Bap. Most gracious Florence.
Duke. Our command was signified,
That neither of the followers of each party
Should appear here with weapons.
Bap. 'Tis obey'd Sir, on my side.
Duke. We must leave the general cause
Of State employments, to give ear to brawls
Of some particular grudges, pollitick government
For tutor'd Princes, but no more henceforth.

Enter Mariana, and Clarissa at one door, Cesario at the other.

Our frown shall check presumption, not our clemency.
Mari. All blessings due to unpartial Princes,
Crown Florence with eternity of happiness.
Cesar. If double Prayers can double blessings (great Sir)
Mine joyn for your prosperity with my Mothers.
Duke. Rise both; now briefly (Lady) without circumstance
Deliver those agrievances, which lately
Your importunity possest our Counsel,
Were fit for audience, wherein you petition'd,
You might be heard without an Advocate,
Which boon you find is granted.
Mari. Though divided.
I stand between the Laws of truth and modesty,
Yet let my griefs have vent: Yet the clearness
Of strange necessity requires obedience
To nature and your Mercy, in my weeds
Of mourning, emblems of too dear misfortunes,
Badges of griefs, and Widdowhood, the burthen
Of my charg'd soul, must be laid down before you;
Wherein, if strict opinion cancel shame,
My frailty is my plea;
Stand forth young Man,
And hear a story that will strike all reason
Into amazement.
Cesar. I attend.
Mar. Alberto (peace dwell upon his ashes) still the husband
Of my remembrance and unchanging vowes,
Has, by his death, left to his heir possession
Of fair revenew, which this young man claimes
As his inheritance. I urg'd him gently,
Friendly, and privately, to grant a partage
Of this estate to her who ownes it all,
This his supposed Sister.
Bap. How supposed?
Cesar. Pray Madam recollect your self.
Mar. The relish
Of a strange truth begins to work like Physick
Already: I have bitterness to mingle
With these preparatives, so deadly loathsome;
It will quite choak digestion; shortly hear it
Cesario, for I dare not rob unjustly
The poor soul of his name; this, this Cesario
Neither for Father had Alberto, me
For Mother, nor Clarissa for his Sister.
Claris. Mother, O Mother.
Ment. I am in a Dream sure.
Duke. No interruptions. Lady on.
Mari. Mistake not,
Great Duke of Tuscany, or the beginning
Or process of this novelty; my husband
The now deceas'd Alberto, from his youth
In-ur'd to an impatiency, and roughness
Of disposition, when not many months
After our Marriage were worn out, repin'd
At the unfr[u]itful barrenness of youth,
Which, as he pleas'd to terme it, cut our hopes off
From blessing of some issue; to prevent it
I grew ambitious of no fairer honor
Than to preserve his love, and as occasions
Still call'd him from me, studied in his absence
How I might frame his welcome home with comfort.
At last I fain'd my self with Child; the Message
Of freedome, or relief, to one half starv'd
In prison, is not utter'd with such greediness
Of expectation, and delight, as this was
To my much affected Lord; his care, his goodness;
(Pardon me that I use the word) exceeded
All former fears, the hour of my deliverance
As I pretended, drawing near, I fashion'd
My birth-rights at a Country Garden-house,
Where then my Faulk'ners Wife was brought a bed
Of this Cesario; him I own'd for mine;
Presented him unto a joyful Father.
Duke. Can you prove this true?
Mari. Proofs I have most evident;
But oh the curse of my impatiency; shortly,
E'r three new Moons had spent their borrow'd Lights,
I grew with Child indeed, so just is Heaven,
The issue of which burthen was this Daughter;
Judge now most gracious Prince, my Lords and you,
What combats then, and since, I have indur'd,
Between a Mothers piety, and weakness
Of a Soul trembling Wife; to have reveal'd
This secret to Alberto, had been danger
Of ruin to my fame, besides the conflict
Of his distractions; now to have supprest it,
Were to defeat my Child, my only Child,
Of her most lawful honors, and inheritance.
Cæsario, th'art a Man still, Education
Hath moulded thee a Gentleman, continue so;
Let not this fall from greatness sink thee lower
Than worthy thoughts may warrant, yet disclaim
All interest in Alberto's blood, thou hast not
One drop of his or mine.
Duke. Produce your witness.
Marian. The Faulconers Wife his Mother,
And such women as waited then upon me,
Sworn to the privacy of this great secret.
Duke. Give them all their Oaths.
Cesar. O let me crave forbearance, gracious Sir,
Vouchsafe me hearing.
Duke. Speak Cæsario.
Cesar. Thus long
I have stood silent, and with no unwillingness,
Attended the relation of my fall,
From a fair expectation; what I fear'd
(Since the first syllable this Lady utter'd
Of my not being hers) benevolent Fates
Have eas'd me off; for to be basely born,
If not base-born, detracts not from the bounty
Of natures freedom, or an honest birth.
Nobility claim'd by the right of blood,
Shewes chiefly, that our Ancestors desir'd
What we inherit; but that Man whose actions
Purchase a real merit to himself,
And rancks him in the file of praise and honor,
Creates his own advancement; let me want
The fuel which best feeds the fires of greatness,
Lordly possessions, yet shall still my gratitude
By some attempts, of mention not unworthy,
Endeavour to return a fit acquittance
To that large debt I owe your favours (Madam)
And great Alberto's memory and goodness;
O that I could as gently shake off passion
For the loss of that great brave Man, as I can shake off
Remembra[n]ce of that once I was reputed;
I have not much to say, this Princely presence
Needs not too strictly to examine farther
The truth of this acknowledgment; a Mother
Dares never disavow her only son,
And any woman must come short of Piety,
That can, or dis-inherit her own issue,
Or fears the voice of rumor for a stranger.
Madam, you have confest, my Father was
A servant to your Lord and you: by interest
Of being his son, I cannot but claim justly
The honor of continuing still my service
To you and yours; which granted, I beg leave
I may for this time be dismist.
Duke. Bold spirit.
Bap. I love thee now with pitty.
Duke. Go not yet—
A sudden tempest that might shake a rock,
Yet he stands firm against it; much it moves me,
He, not Alberto's son, and she a Widdow,
And she a Widdow,—Lords your ear.
Omnes. Your pleasure.— [Whispers.
Duke. So, Lady, what you have avouch'd is truth.
Mari. Truth only, gracious Sir.
Duke. Hear then our Sentence.
Since from his cradle you have fed and foster'd
Cæsario as your Son, and train'd him up
To hopes of greatness; which now in a moment
You utterly again have ruin'd, this way
We with our Counsel are resolv'd, you being
A Widdow, shall accept him for a husband.
Maria. Husband to me, Sir?
Duke. 'Tis in us to raise him
To honors, and his vertues will deserve 'em.
Maria. But Sir, 'tis in no Prince, nor his Prerogative,
To force a Womans choice against her heart.
Duke. True, if then you appeale to higher Justice,
Our Doom includes this clause upon refusal,
Out of your Lords revenues shall Cæsario
Assure to any, whom he takes for Wife,
The inheritance of three parts; the less remainer
Is dowry large enough to marry a daughter;
And we, by our Prerogative, which you question,
Will publickly adopt him into th'name
Of your deceas'd Alberto, that the memory
Of so approv'd a Peer may live in him
That can preserve his memory; 'less you find out
Some other means, which may as amply satisfie
His wrong, our Sentence stands irrevocable:
What think you Lords?
Omnes. The Duke is just and honorable.
Bap. Let me embrace Cæsario, henceforth ever
I vow a constant friendship.
Mentivole. I remit all former difference.
Cesar. I am too poor
In words to thank this Justice. Madam, alwayes
My studies shall be love to you, and duty.
Duke. Replies we admit none. Cæsario wait on us.

[Exeunt. Manent, Mentivole, Bap. Mari. Claris.

Bap. Mentivole.
Menti. My Lord.
Bap. Look on Clarissa, she's noble, rich, young, fair.
Mentivole. My Lord, and virtuous.
Bap. Mentivole and virtuous.—Madam.
Maria. Tyranny of Justice, I shall live reports derision,
That am compell'd to exchange a graceful Widdowhood
For a continual Martyrdome in Marriage,
With one so much beneath me.
Bap. I'll plead for ye
Boldly and constantly, let your daughter only
Admit my son her servant, at next visit,
Madam, I'll be a messenger of comfort.
Mentivole, be confident and earnest. [Exit.
Maria. Married again, to him too! better 'thad been
The young Man should have still retain'd the honors
Of old Alberto's son, than I the shame
Of making him successor of his bed; I was too blame.
Ment. Indeed without offence,
Madam I think you were.
Claris. You urge it fairly, and like a worthy friend.
Maria. Can you say any thing
In commendation of a Mushroom withered
Assoon as started up?
Ment. You scorn an Innocent
Of noble growth, for whiles your husband liv'd
I have heard you boast Cesario in all actions
Gave matter of report of Imitation,
Wonder and envy; let not discontinuance
Of some few days estrange a sweet opinion
Of virtue, ch[ie]fly when, in such extremity,
Your pitty not contempt will argue goodness.
Maria. O Sir.
Cla. If you would use a thriving courtship,
You cannot utter a more powerfull language
That I shall listen to with greater greediness
Than th'argument you prosecute; this speaks you
A man compleat and excellent.
Ment. I speak not, they are his own deserts.
Maria. Good Sir forbear,
I am now fully sensible of running
Into a violent Lethargy, whose deadliness
Locks up all reason, I shall never henceforth
Remember my past happiness.
Ment. These clouds may be disperst.
Maria. I fear continuall night
Will over-shroud me, yet poor youth his trespass
Lies in his fortune, not the cruelty
Of the Duke's sentence.
Cla. I dare think it does.
Maria. If all fail I will learn thee to conquer
Adversity with sufferance.
Ment. You resolve Nobly. [Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.

Enter Cesario and a Servant.

Cesar.
Let any friend have entrance.
Servant. Sir a'shall.
Cesar. Any, I except none.
Serv. We know, your mind Sir. [—Exit.
Cesar. Pleasures admit no bounds.
I am pitcht so high
To such a growth of full prosperities
That to conceal my fortunes were an injury
To gratefulness, and those more liberall favours
By whom my glories prosper. He that flowes
In gracious and swolne tydes of best abundance,
Yet will be Ignorant of his own fortunes,
Deserves to live contemn'd, and dye forgotten;
The harvest of my hopes is now already
Ripen'd and gather'd, I can fatten youth
With choice of plenty, and supplies of comforts,
My fate springs in my own hand, and I'll use it.

Enter 2 Servants and Biancha.

1 'Tis my place.
2 Yours? here fair one, I'll aquaint my Lord.
1 He's here, go to him boldly.
2 Please you to let him understand how readily
I waited on your errand?
1 Saucy fellow, you must excuse his breeding.
Cesar. What's the matter?
Biancha, my Biancha, to your offices. [Exit Ser.
This visit (Sweet) from thee (my pretty dear)
By how much more 'twas unexpected, comes
So much the more timely: witness this free welcome,
What ere occasion led thee.
Bian. You must guess Sir,
Yet indeed 'tis a rare one.
Ces. Prethee speak it, my honest virtuous maid.
Bian. Sir I have heard
Of your misfortunes, and I cannot tell you
Whether I have more cause of joy or sadness,
To know they are a truth.
Ces. What truth Biancha? misfortunes, how, wherein?
Bian. You are disclaym'd
For being the Lord Alberto's Son, and publickly
Acknowledg'd of as mean a birth as mine is,
It cannot chuse but greive ye.
Ces. Greive me? Ha ha ha ha? Is this all?
Bian. This all?
Ces. Thou art sorry for't
I warrant thee: alas good soul, Biancha,
That which thou call'st misfortune is my happiness,
My happiness Biancha.
Bian. If you love me, it may prove mine too.
Ces. May it? I will love thee.
My good, good maid,
If that can make thee happy,
Better and better love thee.
Bian. Without breach then
Of modesty I come to claime the Interest
Your protestations, both by vows and letters,
Have made me owner of: from the first hour
I saw you, I confess I wisht I had been
Or not so much below your rank and greatness,
Or not so much above those humble flames
That should have warm'd my bosome with a temperate
Equality of desires in equal fortunes.
Still as you utter'd Language of affection,
I courted time to pass more slowly on
That I might turn more fool to lend attention
To what I durst not credit, nor yet hope for:
Yet still as more I heard, I wisht to hear more.
Ces. Didst thou introth wench?
Bian. Willingly betraid
My self to hopeless bondage.
Ces. A good girl,
I thought I should not miss
What ere thy answer was.
Biancha. But as I am a maid Sir, and I'faith
You may believe me, for I am a maid,
So dearly I respected both your fame
And quality, that I would first have perisht
In my sick thoughts than ere have given consent
To have undone your fortunes by inviting
A marriage with so mean an one as I am.
I should have dyed sure, and no creature known
The sickness that had kill'd me.
Ces. Pretty heart, good Soul, alas, alas.
Bian. Now since I know
There is no difference 'twixt your birth and mine,
Not much 'twixt our estates, if any be,
The advantage is on my side, I come willingly
To tender you the first fruits of my heart,
And am content t'accept you for my husband,
Now when you are at lowest.
Ces. For a husband?
Speak sadly, dost thou mean so?
Bian. In good deed Sir,
'Tis pure love makes this proffer.
Ces. I believe thee,
What counsail urg'd thee on, tell me, thy Father
My worshipfull smug Host? wast not he wench?
Or mother Hostess? ha?
Bian. D'ee mock my parentage?
I doe not scorn yours.
Mean folks are as worthy
To be well spoken of if they deserve well,
As some whose onely fame lies in their blood,
O y'are a proud poor man: all your oaths falshood,
Your vows deceit, your letters forg'd, and wicked.
Ces. Thou'dst be my wife, I dare swear.
Bian. Had your heart,
Your hand and tongue been twins, you had reputed
This courtesy a benefit.
Ces. Simplicity,
How prettily thou mov'st me! why Biancha,
Report has coz'ned thee, I am not fallen
From my expected honors, or possessions,
Though from the hope of birthright.
Bian. Are you not?
Then I am lost again, I have a suit too;
You'll grant it if you be a good man.
Ces. Any thing.
Bian. Pray doe not talk of ought what I have said t'ee.
Ces. As I wish health I will not.
Bian. Pitty me, but never love me more.
Ces. Nay now y'are cruell,
Why all these tears?—Thou shalt not go.
Bian. I'll pray for ye
That you may have a virtuous wife, a fair one,
And when I am dead—
Ces. Fy, fy.
Bian. Think on me sometimes,
With mercy for this trespass.
Ces. Let us kiss
At parting as at coming.
Bian. This I have
As a free dower to a virgins grave,
All goodness dwell with ye.— [Exit.
Ces. Harmeless Biancha! unskill'd;
What hansome toyes are maids to play with!

Enter Mariana and Clarissa.

How innocent! But I have other thoughts
Of nobler meditation.—my felicity,
Thou commest as I could wish, lend me a lip
Soft as melting as when old Alberto
After his first nights triall taking farewell
Of thy youth's conquest tasted.
Maria. You are uncivill.
Ces. I will be Lord of my own pleasures, Madam
Y'are mine, mine freely,
Come, no whimpering henceforth
New con the lessons of loves best experience,
That our delights may meet in equal measure
Of resolutions and desires; this sulleness
Is scurvy, I like it not.
Mar. Be modest.
And do not learn Cesario how to prostitute
The riot of thy hopes to common folly;
Take a sad womans word, how ere thou doat'st
Upon the present graces of thy greatnes.
Yea I am not falen so below my constancy
To virtue, nor the care which I once tend'red
For thy behoof that I prefer a sentence
Of cruelty before my honor.
Ces. Honor!
Maria. Hear me, thou seest this girl! now the comfort
Of my last days. She is the onely pledge
Of a bed truely noble: shee had a father
(I need not speak him more than thou remembrest)
Whom to dishonor by a meaner choice,
Were injury and infamy.
Claris. To goodnes,
To time and virtuous mention.
Mar. I have vow'd,
Observe me now Cesario, that how ere
I may be forc'd to marry, yet no tyranny,
Persuasions, flattery, guifts, intreats, or tortures,
Shall draw me to a second bed.
Clar. Tis just too.
Maria. Yes and 'tis just Clarissa. I allow
The Duke's late sentence, am resolv'd young man
To be thy wife, but when the ceremony
Of marriage is perform'd, in life I will be,
Though not in name, a widdow.
Ces. Pray a word t'ee,
Shall I in earnest never be your bedfellow?
Maria. Never, O never; and 'tis for your good too.
Ces. Prove that.
Mar. Alas too many years are numbred
In my account to entertain the benefit
Which youth in thee Cesario, and ability
Might hope for and require, it were Injustice
To rob a gentleman deserving memory
Of Issue to preserve it.
Ces. No more herein,
You are an excellent pattern of true piety,
Let me now turn your advocate. Pray look into
The order of the Duke. Injoyn'd, admit
I satisfie the sentence without mariage
With you, how then?
Mar. Cesario.
Ces. If I know
How to acquit your fears, yet keep th'injunction
In every clause whole and entire, your charity
Will call me still your servant.
Mar. Still my son.
Ces. Right Madam, now you have it, still your son.
The Genius of your blessings hath instructed
Your tongue oraculously, we will forget
How once I and Clarissa enterchang'd
The tyes of brother and of sister, henceforth
New stile us man and wife.
Cla. By what authority?
Ces. Heavens great appointment, yet in all my dotage
On thy perfections, when I thought Clarissa
We had been pledges of one womb, no lose
No wanton heat of youth, desir'd to claime
Priority in thy affections, other
Than nature might commend. Chastly I tend'red
Thy welfare as a brother ought; but since
Our bloods are strangers, let our hearts contract
A long life-lasting unity, for this way
The sentence is to be observ'd or no way.
Mar. Then no way.
Ces. I expected other answer Madam from you.
Mar. No, every age shall curse me,
The monster, and the prodigie of nature,
Horrors beyond extremity.
Cla. Pray mother confine the violence of greif.
Ces. Yes mother, pray do.
Mar. Thus some catch at a matrons honor
By flying lust to plot Incestuous witchcrafts.
More terrible than whoredomes; cruell mercy!
When to preserve the body from a death
The soul is strangled.
Ces. This is more than passion,
It comes near to distraction.
Mar. I am quieted.
Cesario, thou mayest tell the Duke securely
Alberto's titles, honors and revenues,
The Duke may give away, enjoy them thou.
Clarissas birthright, Marianas dower
Thou shalt be Lord of; turn us to the world
Unpittied and unfriended, yet my bed
Thou never sleep'st in; as for her; she hears me,
If she as much as in a thought consent;
That thou may'st call her wife, a Mothers curse
Shall never leave her.
Clar. As a brother once
I lov'd you, as a noble friend yet honor ye,
But for a husband sir, I dare not own you,
My faith is given already.
Ces. To a Villain, I'll cut his throat.
Mar. Why this is more than passion!
It comes near a distraction.
Clar. Call to mind Sir.
How much you have abated of that goodness
Which once reign'd in ye, they appear'd so lovely
That such as friendship led to observation

Enter Baptista and Mentivole.

Courted the great example.
Ces. Left, and flatter'd into a broad derision?
Mar. Why d'ee think so?
My Lord Baptista, is your Son grown cold
In hasting on the marriage, which his vows
Have seal'd to my wrong'd daughter?
Bap. We come Lady, to consummate the contract.
Ces. With Mentivole? is he the man?
Ment. Clarissas, troth and mine,
Cesario, are recorded in a character
So plain and certain, that except the hand
Of heaven, which writ it first, would blot it out again,
No humane power can raze it.
Ces. But say you so too young Lady?
Cla. I should else betray
My heart to falshood, and my tongue to perjury.
Ces. Madam, you know the sentence.
Bap. From the Duke,
I have particular comforts which require
A private [e]are.
Mar. I shall approve it gladly
We are resolv'd Cesario.
Bap. Be not insolent upon a Princes favor.
Cla. Loose no glory,
Your younger years have purchast.
Ment. And deserved too, y'have many worthy freinds.
Bap. Preserve and use them. [Exeunt. Manet Cesar.
Ces. Good, very good, why here's a complement
Of mirth in desperation, I could curse
My fate: O with what speed men tumble down
From hopes that soar too high. Biancha now
May scorn me justly too, Clarissa married,
Alberto's widdow resolute, Biancha
Refus'd, and I forsaken: let me study,
I can but die a Batchelor that's the worst on't. [Exit.

Enter Host, Taylor, Muliter, Dancer, Pedant, Coxcombe.

Host. Come Gentlemen,
This is the day that our great artist hath
Promis'd to give all your severall suits satisfaction.
Dancer. Is he stirring?
Host. He hath been at his book these t[w]o hours.
Pedant. He's a rare Physitian.
Host. Why I'll tell you,
Were Paracelsus the German now
Living, he'd take up his single rapier against his
Terrible long sword, he makes it a matter of nothing
To cure the gout, sore eyes he takes out as familiarly,
Washes them, and puts them in again,
As you'd blanch almonds.
Tay. They say he can make gold.
Host. I, I, he learnt it of Kelly in Germanny.
There's not a Chymist
In christendome can goe beyond him for multiplying.
Pedant. Take heed then;
He get not up your daughters belly my Host.
Host. You are a merry Gentleman
And the man of art will love you the better.
Dancer. Does he love mirth and crotchets?
Host. O he's the most courteous Physitian,
You may drink or drab in's company freely,
The better he knows how your disease grows,
The better he knows how to cure it.
Danc. But I wonder my Host
He has no more resort of Ladyes to him.
Host. Why Sir?
Dan. O divers of them have great beleif in conjurers:
Lechery is a great help to the quality.
Host. He's scarce known to be in town yet,
Ere long we shall have 'em come
Hurrying hither in Fetherbeds.
Dan. How? bedridden?
Host. No sir, in fetherbeds that move upon 4 wheels in
Spanish caroches.
Ped. Pray accquaint him we give attendance.
Host. I shall gentlemen; I would fain be rid
Of these rascalls, but that they raise profit
To my wine cellar.
When I have made use of them sufficiently,
I will intreat the conjurer to tye crackers to their tails,
And send them packing.

Enter Forobosco as in his Study. (A paper)