Enter Hermio with wine.
Her. ’Tis here, sir.—Troth, I wonder at some things;
But I’ll keep honest. [Aside.
Ant. So, here’s to you both now, [They drink.
And to your joys, if’t be your luck to find 'em:
I tell you, you must weep hard, if you do.
Divide it 'twixt you both; you shall not need
A strong bill of divorcement after that,
If you mislike your bargain. Go, get in now;
Kneel and pray heartily to get forgiveness
Of those two souls whose bodies thou hast murder’d.—
[Exeunt Aberzanes and Francisca.
Spread, subtle poison! Now my shame in her
Will die when I die; there’s some comfort yet.
I do but think how each man’s punishment
Proves still a kind of justice to himself.
I was the man that told this innocent gentlewoman,
Whom I did falsely wed and falsely kill,
That he that was her husband first by contract
Was slain i’ th’ field; and he’s known yet to live:
So did I cruelly beguile his heart,
For which I’m well rewarded; so is Gaspar,
Who, to befriend my love, swore fearful oaths
He saw the last breath fly from him. I see now
’Tis a thing dreadful t’ abuse holy vows,
And falls most weight[il]y.
Her. Take comfort, sir;
You’re guilty of no death; they’re only hurt,
And that not mortally.
Enter Gasparo.
ᚩAnt. Thou breath’st untruths.
Her. Speak, Gaspar, for me then.
Gas. Your unjust rage, sir,
Has hurt me without cause.
Ant. ’Tis chang’d to grief for’t.
How fares my wife?
Gas. No doubt, sir, she fares well,
For she ne’er felt your fury. The poor sinner
That hath this seven year kept herself sound for you,
’Tis your luck to bring her into th’ surgeon’s hands now.
Ant. Florida?
Gas. She: I know no other, sir;
You were ne’er at charge yet but with one light-horse.
Ant. Why, where’s your lady? where’s my wife to-night then?
Gas. Nay, ask not me, sir; your struck doe within
Tells a strange tale of her.
Ant. This is unsufferable!
Never had man such means to make him mad.
O that the poison would but spare my life
Till I had found her out!
Her. Your wish is granted, sir:
Upon the faithfulness of a pitying servant,
I gave you none at all; my heart was kinder.
Let not conceit abuse you; you’re as healthful,
For any drug, as life yet ever found you.
Ant. Why, here’s a happiness wipes off mighty sorrows:
The benefit of ever-pleasing service
Bless thy profession!—
Enter Lord Governor, attended by Gentlemen.
O my worthy lord,
I’ve an ill bargain, never man had worse!
The woman that, unworthy, wears your blood
To countenance sin in her, your niece, she’s false.
Gov. False?
Ant. Impudent, adulterous.
Gov. You’re too loud,
And grow too bold too with her virtuous meekness.
Enter Florida.
Who dare accuse her?
Flo. Here’s one dare and can.
She lies this night with Celio, her own servant;
The place, Fernando’s house.
Gov. Thou dost amaze us.
Ant. Why, here’s but lust translated from one baseness
Into another: here I thought t’ have caught 'em,
But lighted wrong, by false intelligence,
And made me hurt the innocent. But now
I’ll make my revenge dreadfuller than a tempest;
An army should not stop me, or a sea
Divide 'em from my revenge. [Exit.
Gov. I’ll not speak
To have her spar’d, if she be base and guilty:
If otherwise, heaven will not see her wrong’d,
I need not take care for her. Let that woman
Be carefully look’d to, both for health and sureness.—
It is not that mistaken wound thou wear’st
Shall be thy privilege.
Flo. You cannot torture me
Worse than the surgeon does: so long I care not.
[Exit with Gasparo and a Gentleman.
Virtues in women; they’re but veils for lust.
[Exit with Gentlemen.
Her. To what a lasting ruin mischief runs!
I had thought I’d well and happily ended all,
In keeping back the poison; and new rage now
Spreads a worse venom. My poor lady grieves me:
’Tis strange to me that her sweet-seeming virtues
Should be so meanly overtook with Celio,
A servant: ’tis not possible.
Enter Isabella and Sebastian.
Isa. Good morrow, Hermio:
My sister stirring yet?
Her. How? stirring, forsooth!
Here has been simple stirring. Are you not hurt, madam?
Pray, speak; we have a surgeon ready.
Isa. How? a surgeon!
Her. Hath been at work these five hours.
Isa. How he talks!
Her. Did you not meet my master?
Isa. How, your master?
Why, came he home to-night?
Her. Then know you nothing, madam?
Please you but walk in, you shall hear strange business.
You’ve serv’d me fair; my credit’s stain’d for ever!
[Exit with Hermio.
Seb. This is the wicked’st fortune that e’er blew:
We’re both undone, for nothing: there’s no way
Flatters recovery now, the thing’s so gross:
Her disgrace grieves me more than a life’s loss. [Exit.
SCENE II.
The Abode of Hecate: a caldron in the centre.
Enter Duchess, Hecate, and Firestone.
Hec. What death is’t you desire for Almachildes?
Duch. A sudden and a subtle.
Hec. Then I’ve fitted you.
Here lie the gifts of both; sudden and subtle:
His picture made in wax, and gently molten
By a blue fire kindled with dead men’s eyes,
Will waste him by degrees.
Duch. In what time, prithee?
Hec. Perhaps in a moon’s progress.
Duch. What, a month?
Out upon pictures, if they be so tedious!
Give me things with some life.
Hec. Then seek no farther.
Duch. This must be done with speed, despatch’d this night,
If it may possible.
Hec. I have it for you;
Here’s that will do’t: stay but perfection’s time,
And that’s not five hours hence.
Duch. Canst thou do this?
Hec. Can I!
Duch. I mean, so closely.
Hec. So closely do you mean too!
Duch. So artfully, so cunningly.
Hec. Worse and worse; doubts and incredulities!
They make me mad. Let scrupulous creatures know
Cum volui,[566] ripis ipsis mirantibus, amnes
In fontes rediere suos; concussaque sisto,
Stantia concutio cantu freta; nubila pello,
Nubilaque induco; ventos abigoque vocoque;
Vipereas rumpo verbis et carmine fauces;
Et silvas moveo; jubeoque tremiscere montes,
Et mugire solum, manesque exire sepulchris.
Te [quo]que, luna, traho. Can you doubt me then, daughter,
That can make mountains tremble, miles of woods walk,
Whole earth’s foundation bellow, and the spirits
Of the entomb’d to burst out from their marbles,
Nay, draw yond moon to my involv’d designs?
Fire. I know as well as can be when my mother’s mad, and our great cat angry, for one spits French then, and th’ other spits Latin. [Aside.
Duch. I did not doubt you, mother.
Hec. No! what did you?
My power’s so firm, it is not to be question’d.
Duch. Forgive what’s past: and now I know th’ offensiveness
That vexes art, I’ll shun th’ occasion ever.
Hec. Leave all to me and my five sisters, daughter:
It shall be convey’d in at howlet-time;
Take you no care: my spirits know their moments;
Raven or screech-owl never fly by th’ door
But they call in—I thank 'em—and they lose not by’t;
I give 'em barley soak’d in infants’ blood;
They shall have semina cum sanguine,
Their gorge cramm’d full, if they come once to our house;
We are no niggard. [Exit Duchess.
Fire. They fare but too well when they come hither; they eat up as much t’other night as would have made me a good conscionable pudding.
Hec. Give me some lizard’s-brain; quickly, Firestone.
[Firestone brings the different ingredients
for the charm, as Hecate calls for them.
Where’s grannam Stadlin, and all the rest o’ th’ sisters?
Fire. All at hand, forsooth.
Enter Stadlin, Hoppo, and other Witches.
Hec. Give me marmaritin, some bear-breech: when?[567]
Fire. Here’s bear-breech and lizard’s-brain, forsooth.
Hec. Into the vessel;
And fetch three ounces of the red-hair’d girl
I kill’d last midnight.
Fire. Whereabouts, sweet mother?
Fire. You shall have acopus, forsooth.
Hec. Stir, stir about, whilst I begin the charm.
Black spirits[569] and white, red spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, mingle, you that mingle may!
Titty, Tiffin,
Keep it stiff in;
Firedrake, Puckey,
Make it lucky;
Liard, Robin,
You must bob in.
Round, around, around, about, about!
All ill come running in, all good keep out!
First Witch. Here’s the blood of a bat.
Hec. Put in that, O, put in that!
Sec. Witch. Here’s libbard’s-bane.
First Witch. The juice of toad, the oil of adder.
Sec. Witch. Those will make the younker madder.
Hec. Put in—there’s all—and rid the stench.
Fire. Nay, here’s three ounces of the red-hair’d wench.
All the Witches. Round, around, around, &c.
Hec. So, so, enough: into the vessel with it.
There, 't hath the true perfection. I’m so light
At any mischief! there’s no villany
But is a tune, methinks.
Fire. A tune? ’tis to the tune of damnation then, I warrant you, and that song hath a villanous burthen.
[Aside.
Whilst we shew reverence to yond peeping moon.
[They dance the Witches’ Dance, and exeunt.
SCENE III.
An Apartment in the House of the Lord Governor.
Isa. My lord, I’ve given you nothing but the truth
Of a most plain and innocent intent.
My wrongs being so apparent in this woman—
A creature that robs wedlock of all comfort,
Where’er she fastens—I could do no less
But seek means privately to shame his folly.
No farther reach’d my malice; and it glads me
That none but my base injurer is found
To be my false accuser.
Gov. This is strange,
That he should give the wrongs, yet seek revenge.—
But, sirrah, you; you are accus’d here doubly:
First, by your lady, for a false intelligence
That caus’d her absence, which much hurts her name,
Though her intents were blameless; next, by this woman,
For an adulterous design and plot
Practis’d between you to entrap her honour,
Whilst she, for her hire, should enjoy her husband.
Your answer.
Seb. Part of this is truth, my lord,
To which I’m guilty in a rash intent,
But clear in act; and she most clear in both,
Not sanctity more spotless.
Enter Hermio.
Her. O my lord!
Gov. What news breaks there?
Her. Of strange destruction:
Here stands the lady that within this hour
Was made a widow.
Her. Your niece, my lord.
A fearful, unexpected accident
Brought death to meet his fury: for my lord
Entering Fernando’s house, like a rais’d tempest,
Which nothing heeds but its own violent rage,
Blinded with wrath and jealousy, which scorn guides,
From a false trap-door fell into a depth
Exceeds a temple’s height, which takes into it
Part of the dungeon that falls threescore fathom
Under the castle.
Gov. O you seed of lust,
Wrongs and revenges wrongful, with what terrors
You do present yourselves to wretched man
When his soul least expects you!
Isa. I forgive him
All his wrongs now, and sign it with my pity.
Flo. O my sweet servant! [Swoons.
Gov. Look to yond light mistress.
Gas. She’s in a swoon, my lord.
Gov. Convey her hence:
It is a sight would grieve a modest eye
To see a strumpet’s soul sink into passion[574]
For him that was the husband of another.—
[Servants remove Florida.
Yet all this clears not you.
Seb. Thanks to heaven
That I am now of age to clear myself then.
[Discovers himself.
Gov. Sebastian!
Seb. The same, much wronged, sir.
Isa. Am I certain
Of what mine eye takes joy to look upon?
Seb. Your service cannot alter me from knowledge;
I am your servant ever.
Gov. Welcome to life, sir.—
Gaspar, thou swor’st his death.
Gas. I did indeed, my lord,
And have been since well paid for’t: one forsworn mouth
Hath got me two or three more here.
Seb. I was dead, sir,
Both to my joys and all men’s understanding,
Till this my hour of life; for ’twas my fortune
To make the first of my return to Urbin
A witness to that marriage; since which time
I’ve walk’d beneath myself, and all my comforts
Like one on earth whose joys are laid above:
And though it had been offence small in me
T’ enjoy mine own, I left her pure and free.
Gov. The greater and more sacred is thy blessing;
For where heaven’s bounty holy ground-work finds,
’Tis like a sea, encompassing chaste minds.
Her. The duchess comes, my lord.
Enter Duchess and Amoretta.
Gov. Be you then all witnesses
Of an intent most horrid.
Duch. One poor night,
Ever Almachildes now.[575]
Better his meaner fortunes wept than ours,
That took the true height of a princess’ spirit
To match unto their greatness. Such lives as his
Were only made to break the force of fate
Ere it came at us, and receive the venom.
’Tis but a usual friendship for a mistress
To lose some forty years’ life in hopeful time,
And hazard an eternal soul for ever:
As young as he has done['t], and more desertful.
[Aside.
Gov. Madam.
Duch. My lord?
Gov. This is the hour that I’ve so long desir’d;
The tumult’s full appeas’d; now may we both
Exchange embraces with a fortunate arm,
And practise to make love-knots, thus.
[A curtain is drawn, and the Duke discovered
on a couch, as if dead.
Duch. My lord!
Gov. Thus, lustful woman and bold murderess, thus.
Blessed powers,
To make my loyalty and truth so happy!
Look thee, thou shame of greatness, stain of honour,
Behold thy work, and weep before thy death!
If thou be’st blest with sorrow and a conscience,
Which is a gift from heaven, and seldom knocks
At any murderer’s breast with sounds of comfort,
See this thy worthy and unequall’d piece;
A fair encouragement for another husband!
Duch. Bestow me upon death, sir; I am guilty,
And of a cruelty above my cause:
His injury was too low for my revenge.
Perform a justice that may light all others
To noble actions: life is hateful to me,
Beholding my dead lord. Make us an one
In death, whom marriage made one of two living,
Till cursed fury parted us: my lord,
I covet to be like him.
Gov. No, my sword
Shall never stain the virgin brightness on’t
With blood of an adulteress.
Duch. There, my lord,
I dare my accusers, and defy the world,
Death, shame, and torment: blood I’m guilty of,
But not adultery, not the breach of honour.
Gov. No?—Come forth, Almachildes! Enter Almachildes.
Duch. Almachildes?
Hath time brought him about to save himself
By my destruction? I am justly doom’d.
Gov. Do you know this woman?
Alm. I’ve known her better, sir, than at this time.
Gov. But she defies you there.
Alm. That’s the common trick of them all.
Duch. Nay, since I’m touch’d so near, before my death then,
In right of honour’s innocence, I’m bold
To call heaven and my woman here to witness.
My lord, let her speak truth, or may she perish!
Amo. Then, sir, by all the hopes of a maid’s comfort
Either in faithful service or blest marriage,
The woman that his blinded folly knew
Was only a hir’d strumpet, a professor
Of lust and impudence, which here is ready
To approve what I have spoken.
Alm. A common strumpet?
This comes of scarfs: I’ll never more wear
An haberdasher’s shop before mine eyes again.
Gov. My sword is proud thou’rt lighten’d of that sin:
Die then a murderess only!
Duke [rising and embracing her]. Live a duchess!
Better than ever lov’d, embrac’d, and honour’d.
Duch. My lord!
Duke. Nay, since in honour thou canst justly rise,
Vanish all wrongs, thy former practice dies!—
I thank thee, Almachildes, for my life,
This lord for truth, and heaven for such a wife,
Who, though her intent sinn’d, yet she makes amends
With grief and honour, virtue’s noblest ends.—
What griev’d you then shall never more offend you;
Your father’s skull with honour we’ll inter,
And give the peace due to the sepulchre:
And in all times may this day ever prove
A day of triumph, joy, and honest love!
[Exeunt omnes.