The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 09 of 10
Title: Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 09 of 10
Author: Francis Beaumont
John Fletcher
Editor: A. R. Waller
Release date: October 30, 2014 [eBook #47240]
Most recently updated: October 24, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Richard Tonsing, Jonathan Ingram and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
FRANCIS BEAUMONT
Born 1584
Died 1616
JOHN FLETCHER
Born 1579
Died 1625
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER
THE SEA-VOYAGE
WIT AT SEVERAL WEAPONS
THE FAIR MAID OF THE INN
CUPID'S REVENGE
THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN
THE TEXT EDITED BY
A. R. WALLER, M.A.
Cambridge:
at the University Press
1910
CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS
London: FETTER LANE, E.C.
C. F. CLAY, Manager
Edinburgh: 100, PRINCES STREET
Berlin: A. ASHER AND CO.
Leipzig: F.A. BROCKHAUS
New York: G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Bombay and Calcutta: MACMILLAN AND CO., Ltd.
All rights reserved
CONTENTS
| PAGE | |
| The Sea-Voyage | 1 |
| Wit at Several Weapons | 66 |
| The Fair Maid of the Inn | 143 |
| Cupid's Revenge | 220 |
| The Two Noble Kinsmen | 290 |
THE SEA-VOYAGE.
A Comedy.
The Persons represented in the Play.
- Albert, a French Pirat, in love with Aminta.
- Tibalt du Pont, a merry Gentleman, friend to Albert.
- Master of the Ship, an honest merry man.
- Lamure, an usuring Merchant.
- Franville, a vain-glorious gallant.
- Morillat, a shallow-brain'd Gentleman.
- Bo[a]tswain, an honest man.
- Sebastian, a noble Gentleman of Portugal, Husband to Rosellia.
- Nicusa, Nephew to Sebastian, both cast upon a desart Island.
- Raimond, brother to Aminta.
- Surgeon.
- Sailors.
WOMEN.
- Aminta, Mistriss to Albert, a noble French Virgin.
- Rosellia, Governess of the Amazonian Portugals.
- Clarinda, Daughter to Rosellia, in love with Albert.
- Hippolita, } three Ladies, Members
- Crocale, } of the Female
- Juletta. } Common-wealth.
The Scene, First at Sea, then in the desart Islands.
The Principal Actors were
- Joseph Taylor,
- William Eglestone,
- Nich. Toolie,
- Joh Lowin,
- John Underwood.
Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.
A Tempest, Thunder and Lightning.
Enter Master and two Sailors.
Lay her aloof, the Sea grows dangerous,
How it spits against the clouds, how it capers,
And how the fiery Element frights it back
There be Devils dancing in the air I think
I saw a Dolphin hang i'th horns o'th' moon
Shot from a wave, hey day, hey day,
How she kicks and yerks!
Down with the Main Mast, lay her at hull,
Farle up all her Linnens, and let her ride it out.
She's so deep laden that she'll bulge.
Can she not buffet with a storm a little?
How it tosses her, she reels like a Drunkard.
Pray let's make in, she's so drunk else,
She may chance to cast up all her Lading.
See, what a clap of Thunder there is,
What a face of heaven, how dreadfully it looks!
I see't in thy face, thou hast been mumbling,
When we are split you slave; is this a time,
To discourage our friends with your cold orizons?
Call up the Boatswain; how it storms; holla.
Cast over all her lading? she will not swim
An hour else;
Enter Albert, Franvile, Lamure, Tibalt de pont. Morillat.
I never saw, since I have known the Sea,
(which has been this twenty years) so rude a tempest:
In what State are we?
We have sprung five leaks, and no little ones;
Still rage; besides, her ribs are open;
Her rudder almost spent; prepare your selves;
And have good courages, death comes but once,
And let him come in all his frights.
To make in to th' Land? 'tis here before us.
Yet do not cry, let's dye like men.
And goe all at one cast? the more the merrier.
Enter Amint.
Do ye long to be i'th' Fish-market before your time?
Hold her up there.
Nothing but horror sounding in mine ears,
No minute to promise to my frighted soul.
We ha storms enough already; no more howling.
And to your business; wink and die,
There's an old Haddock staies for ye.
The thousand several shapes death triumphs in?
No friend to counsel me?
No gentle hand to close mine eyes?
Power still, and the same mercy.
Or by these hands I'll give no more direction,
Let the Ship sink or swim, we ha ne'er better luck,
When we ha such stowage as these trinkets with us;
These sweet sin-breeders: how can heaven smile on us,
When such a burthen of iniquity
Lies tumbling like a potion in our ship's belly? [Exit.
That's fit for such an hour, let her say't quickly,
And seriously. [Exit.
And take some comfort. I'll stay with ye.
Am not I circled round with misery?
Confusions in their full heights dwell about me:
Oh Mounsieur Albert, How am I bound to curse ye,
If curses could redeem me! how to hate ye!
You forc'd me from my quiet, from my friends;
Even from their Arms, that were as dear to me,
As day-light is, or comfort to the wretched;
You forc'd my friends from their peaceful rest,
Some your relentless sword gave their last groans;
Would I had there been numbred;
And to fortunes never satisfied afflictions,
Ye turn'd my Brother; and those few friends I'd left,
Like desperate creatures, to their own fears
And the world's stubborn pitties: Oh merciless!
Or wh[e]ther dead, and no kind earth to cover 'em;
Was this a Lovers part? but heaven has found ye,
And in his loudest voice, his voice of thunder,
And in the mutiny of his deep wonders,
He tells ye now, ye weep too late:
Ye know dear Lady, since ye are mine,
How truly I have lov'd ye, how sanctimoniously
Observ'd your honor; not one lascivious word,
Not one touch Lady; no, not a hope that might not render me
The unpolluted servant of your chastity;
For you I put to sea, to seek your Brother;
Your Captain, yet your slave, that his redemption,
If he be living, where the Sun has circuit,
May expiate your rigor, and my rashness.
And ask heavens mercy; my strong mind yet presages,
Through all these dangers, we shall see a day yet
Shall crown your pious hopes, and my fair wishes. [Exit.
Enter Master, Sailors, Gentlemen, and Boatswain.
Fling o'er the Lading there, and let's lighten her;
All the meat, and the Cakes, we are all gone else;
That we may find her Leaks, and hold her up;
Yet save some little Bisket for the Lady,
Till we come to the Land.
Why honest Master? here lies all my money;
The Money I ha wrackt by usury,
To buy new Lands and Lordships in new Countreys,
'Cause I was banish'd from mine own
I ha been this twenty years a raising it.
The devils are got together by the ears, who shall have it;
And here they quarrel in the clouds.
It was some pawn that he has got unjustly;
Down with it low enough, and let Crabs breed in't.
Enter Albert.
That I sold, put it into cloaths and necessaries,
To goe to sea with?
Sir, you left no wood upon't, to buoy it up;
You might ha' sav'd it else.
And my cloaths; my sword here, and my self;
Two Crowns in my pocket; two pair of Cards;
And three false Dice: I can swim like a fish
Rascal, nothing to hinder me.
My life now for the Land,
'Tis high, and rocky, and full of perils.
Enter Sebastian and Nicusa.
She has wrought lustily for her deliverance;
Heavens mercy, what a wretched day has here been!
It may seem wretched, but with us 'tis ordinary;
Heaven has no storm in store, nor earth no terror,
That can seem new to us.
To be wanton, and would wipe out the stories
Of mens miseries: yet we two living,
We could cross her purpose; for 'tis impossible
She should cure us, we are so excellent in our afflictions;
It would be more than glory to her blindness,
And stile her power beyond her pride, to quit us.
They leap from one calamity to another;
Had they been drown'd, they had ended all their sorrows.
What shouts of joy they make!
Of this Island, they'd turn their tunes to wailings.
That ever they set foot on such calamities;
Here's nothing but Rocks and barrenness,
Hunger, and cold to eat; here's no Vineyards
To cheer the heart of man, no Christal Rivers,
After his labour, to refresh his body,
If he be feeble; nothing to restore him,
But heavenly hopes, nature that made those remedies,
Dares not come here, nor look on our distresses,
For fear she turn wild, like the place, and barren.
'Twill be a little comfort in our calamities;
When we were seated in our blessed homes,
How happy in our kindreds, in our families,
In all our fortunes!
That flung us from that happiness we found there;
Constrain'd us to Sea, to save our lives, honors, and our riches,
With all we had, our kinsmen, and our jewels,
In hope to find some place free from such robbers,
Where a mighty storm sever'd our Barks,
That, where my Wife, my Daughter
And my noble Ladies that went with her,
Virgins and loving souls, to scape those Pirats.
Never to me again; what bears their Flag-staves?
Nay, doe not start, we cannot be more miserable;
Death is a cordial, now, come when it will.
When once they find the place; what's that which swims there?
Hanging about his neck.
May thy brave charity, what e'er thou art,
Be spoken in a place that may renown thee,
And not dye here.
So forced to their shifts; yet all are landed:
They're Pirates on my life.
For none will take out misery for riches:
Come Cosin, let's descend, and try their pities;
If we get off, a little hope walks with us;
If not, we shall but load this wretched Island
With the same shadows still, that must grow shorter. [Ex.
Enter Albert, Aminta, Tibalt, Morillat, Lamure, Master, Franvile, Surgeon, Sailors.
The Ship rides fair too, and her leaks in good plight.
How does my Dear?
Alas, how weak she is, and wet!
Which certain, noble Captain, next to heavens goodness,
I must thank you for, and which is more,
Acknowledge your dear tenderness, your firm love
To your unworthy Mistriss, and recant too
(Indeed I must) those harsh opinions,
Those cruel unkind thoughts, I heapt upon ye;
Farther than that, I must forget your injuries.
So far I am ti'd, and fet'red to your service,
Believe me, I will learn to love.
And halfe a hard egg; for the Sea has taken order;
Being young and strong, we shall not surfet Captain.
For mine own part, I'll dance till I'm dry;
Come Surgeon, out with your Clister-pipe,
And strike a Galliard.
And what fair weather, after so foul a storm!
This weather, and ha' say'd our goods.
'Twas most maliciously done to undoe me.
I ha'n't another shirt to put upon me, nor cloaths
But these poor rags; I had fifteen fair suits,
The worst was cut upon Taffaty.
Is thy skin whole? art thou not purl'd with scabs?
No antient monuments of Madam Venus?
Thou hast a suit then will pose the cunning'st Tailor,
That will never turn fashion, nor forsake thee,
Till thy executors the Worms, uncase thee,
They take off glorious sutes Franvile: thou art happy,
Thou art deliver'd of 'em; here are no Brokers;
No Alchymists to turn 'em into Mettal;
Nor leather'd Captains, with Ladies to adore 'em;
Wilt thou see a Dog-fish rise in one of thy brave doublets,
And tumble like a tub to make thee merry,
Or an old Haddock rise with thy hatch'd sword
Thou paid'st a hundred Crowns for?
A Mermaid in a Mantle of your Worships,
Or a Dolphin in your double Ruffe?
If I be foisted and jeer'd out of my goods.
Nor Master, nor Mate, I see your cunning.
If ye aim at me, I am not so tame.
Fight not till the Surgeon be well,
He's damnable sea-sick, and may spoil all;
Besides he has lost his Fiddlestick, and the best
Box of Bores-grease; why do you make such faces,
And hand your swords?
Who has done ye wrong? for shame be better temper'd.
No sooner come to give thanks for our safeties,
But we must raise new civil broils amongst us
Inflame those angry powers, to shower new vengeance on us?
What can we expect for these unmanly murmurs,
These strong temptations of their holy pitties,
But plagues in another kind, a fuller, so dreadful,
That the singing storms are slumbers to it?
If you will needs fight, Gentlemen,
And think to raise new riches by your valours,
Have at ye, I have little else to do now
I have said my prayers; you say you have lost,
And make your loss your quarrel.
And grumble at my Captain here, and the Master
Two worthy persons, indeed too worthy for such rascals,
Thou Galloon gallant, and Mammon you
That build on golden Mountains, thou Money-Maggot;
Come all, draw your swords, ye say ye are miserable.
I'll make ye ten times worse, I will not leave 'em;
For look ye, fighting is as nourishing to me as eating,
I was born quarrelling.
Do ye grumble, when ye are well, ye rogues?
Break't amongst ye all, and thank my bounty.
This is Cloaths and Plate too; come no more quarrelling.
Are they humane creatures?
Enter Sebastian and Nicusa.
Goodly long manes.
How they are crept in, as if they had been frighted!
Sure they are wretched men.
Look ye Franvile, here are a couple of Courtiers.
Or wandring shadows, that find no peace on earth,
Till ye reveal some hidden secret?
Only our miseries make us seem monsters,
If ever pitty dwelt in noble hearts.
If ever ye have heard the name of friendship,
Or suffered in your selves, the least afflictions,
Have gentle Fathers that have bred ye tenderly,
And Mothers that have wept for your misfortunes,
Have mercy on our miseries.
Speak boldly, and have release.
And by that blessed name, bound to relieve us,
Convey us from this Island.
Were but to number up our own calamities,
And turn your eyes wild with perpetual weepings;
These many years in this most wretched Island
We two have liv'd: the scorn and game of fortune;
Bless your selves from it Noble Gentlemen;
The greatest plagues that humane nature suffers,
Are seated here, wildness, and wants innumerable.
Had not Heaven preserv'd ye for some more noble use;
Wrackt desperately; our men, and all consum'd,
But we two; that still live, and spin out
The thin and ragged threds of our misfortunes.
No summer here, to promise any thing;
Nor Autumn, to make full the reapers hands;
The earth obdurate to the tears of heaven,
Lets nothing shoot but poison'd weeds.
No Rivers, nor no pleasant Groves, no Beasts;
All that were made for man's use, flie this desart;
No airy Fowl dares make his flight over it,
It is so ominous.
Serpents, and ugly things, the shames of nature,
Roots of malignant tasts, foul standing waters;
Sometimes we find a fulsome Sea-root,
And that's a delicate: a Rat sometimes,
And that we hunt like Princes in their pleasure;
And when we take a Toad, we make a Banquet.
And heard the noise of hunters;
And have attempted [t]o find it, [s]o far as a River,
Deep, slow, and dangerous, fenced with high Rocks,
We have gone; but not able to atchieve that hazard,
Return to our old miseries.
If this sad story may deserve your pities.
No Gentlemen, we'll pay for our deliverance;
Look ye that plough the Seas for wealth and pleasures,
That out-run day and night with your ambitions,
Look on those heaps, they seem hard ragged quarries;
Remove 'em, and view 'em fully.
All perfect Gold.
I'll have all this.
All that will share with us, assist us.
I had command too, when I landed here,
And lead young, high, and noble spirits under me,
This cursed Gold enticing 'em, they set upon their Captain,
On me that own'd this wealth, and this poor Gentleman,
Gave us no few wounds, forc'd us from our own;
And then their civil swords, who should be owners,
And who Lords over all, turn'd against their own lives,
First in their rage, consum'd the Ship,
That poor part of the Ship that scap'd the first wrack,
Next their lives by heaps; Oh be you wise and careful:
This Golden age must have an Iron ending.
Have at the bunch. [He beats 'em off. Exit.
Here rides their Ship, yet all are gone to th' spoil,
Let's make a quick use.
Enter Tibalt and the rest.
You shall be your own carvers; yes, I'll carve ye.
Covetous base minds have no reason;
I am hurt my self; but whilst I have a leg left,
I will so haunt your gilded souls; how d'ye Captain?
Ye bleed apace, curse on the causers on't;
Ye do not faint?
Base greedy rogues; come, shall we make an end of 'em?
Alas, they are hurt enough, and they relent now. [Aminta above.
We are all undone, all, all: we are all miserable,
Mad wilful men; ye are undone, your Ship, your Ship.
See where she flies: see to your shames, you wretches:
These poor starv'd things that shew'd you Gold.
[Lam. and Franvile goes up to see the Ship.