Now, art thou come?
Thou look'st ghastly:
There sits in thy face some great determination
Mixed with some fear.
Bos. Thus it lightens into action:
I am come to kill thee.
Card. Ha!—Help! our guard!
Bos. Thou art deceived;
They are out of thy howling.
Card. Hold; and I will faithfully divide
Revenues with thee.
Bos. Thy prayers and proffers
Are both unseasonable.
Card. Raise the watch! we are betrayed!
Bos. I have confined your flight:
I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber,
But no further.
Card. Help! we are betrayed!
Enter, above, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan.
Mal. Listen.
Card. My dukedom for rescue!
Rod. Fie upon his counterfeiting!
Mal. Why, 'tis not the cardinal.
Rod. Yes, yes, 'tis he:
But I'll see him hanged ere I'll go down to him.
Card. Here's a plot upon me; I am assaulted! I am lost,
Unless some rescue.
Gris. He doth this pretty well;
But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honour.
Card. The sword's at my throat!
Rod. You would not bawl so loud then.
Mal. Come, come, let's go
To bed: he told us thus much aforehand.
Pes. He wished you should not come at him; but, believe't,
The accent of the voice sounds not in jest:
I'll down to him, howsoever, and with engines
Force ope the doors. [Exit above.
Rod. Let's follow him aloof,
And note how the cardinal will laugh at him.
[Exeunt, above, Malatesti, Roderigo,
and Grisolan.
Bos. There's for you first,
'Cause you shall not unbarricade the door
To let in rescue. [Kills the Servant.
Card. What cause hast thou to pursue my life?
Bos. Look there.
Card. Antonio!
Bos. Slain by my hand unwittingly.
Pray, and be sudden: when thou killed'st thy sister,
Thou took'st from Justice her most equal balance,
And left her naught but her sword.
Card. O, mercy!
Bos. Now it seems thy greatness was only outward;
For thou fall'st faster of thyself than calamity
Can drive thee. I'll not waste longer time; there!
[Stabs him.
Card. Thou hast hurt me.
Bos. Again! [Stabs him again.
Card. Shall I die like a leveret,
Without any resistance?—Help, help, help!
I am slain!
Enter Ferdinand.
Ferd. The alarum! give me a fresh horse;
Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost.
Yield, yield! I give you the honour of arms,
Shake my sword over you; will you yield?
Card. Help me; I am your brother!
Ferd. The devil!
My brother fight upon the adverse party!
[He wounds the Cardinal, and, in the
scuffle, gives Bosola his death-wound.
There flies your ransom.
Card. O justice!
I suffer now for what hath former bin:
Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.
Ferd. Now you're brave fellows. Cæsar's fortune was harder than Pompey's; Cæsar died in the arms of prosperity, Pompey at the feet of disgrace. You both died in the field. The pain's nothing: pain many times is taken away with the apprehension of greater, as the toothache with the sight of the barber that comes to pull it out: there's philosophy for you.
Bos. Now my revenge is perfect.—Sink, thou main cause
[Kills Ferdinand.
Of my undoing!—The last part of my life
Hath done me best service.
Ferd. Give me some wet hay; I am broken-winded
I do account this world but a dog kennel:
I will vault credit and affect high pleasures
Beyond death.
Bos. He seems to come to himself,
Now he's so near the bottom.
Ferd. My sister, O my sister! there's the cause on't.
Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust,
Like diamonds we are cut with our own dust. [Dies.
Card. Thou hast thy payment too.
Bos. Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth;
'Tis ready to part from me. I do glory
That thou, which stood'st like a huge pyramid
Begun upon a large and ample base,
Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.
Enter below, Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo, and Grisolan.
Pes. How now, my lord!
Mal. O sad disaster!
Rod. How comes this?
Bos. Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi murdered
By the Arragonian brethren; for Antonio
Slain by this hand; for lustful Julia
Poisoned by this man; and lastly for myself,
That was an actor in the main of all
Much 'gainst mine own good nature, yet i' the end
Neglected.
Pes. How now, my lord!
Card. Look to my brother:
He gave us these large wounds, as we were struggling
Here i' the rushes.[143] And now, I pray, let me
Be laid by and never thought of. [Dies.
Pes. How fatally, it seems, he did withstand
His own rescue!
Mal. Thou wretched thing of blood
How came Antonio by his death?
Bos. In a mist; I know not how:
Such a mistake as I have often seen
In a play. O, I am gone!
We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves,
That, ruined, yield no echo. Fare you well.
It may be pain, but no harm, to me to die
In so good a quarrel. O, this gloomy world!
In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness,
Doth womanish and fearful mankind live!
Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrust
To suffer death or shame for what is just:
Mine is another voyage. [Dies.
Pes. The noble Delio, as I came to the palace,
Told me of Antonio's being here, and showed me
A pretty gentleman, his son and heir.
Enter Delio and Antonio's Son.
Mal. O sir, you come too late!
Delio. I heard so, and
Was armed for't, ere I came. Let us make noble use
Of this great ruin; and join all our force
To establish this young hopeful gentleman
In's mother's right. These wretched eminent things
Leave no more fame behind 'em, than should one
Fall in a frost, and leave his print in snow;
As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts,
Both form and matter. I have ever thought
Nature doth nothing so great for great men
As when she's pleased to make them lords of truth:
Integrity of life is fame's best friend,
Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end.
[Exeunt.
THE ATHEIST'S TRAGEDY;
OR,
THE HONEST MAN'S REVENGE.
Cyril Tourneur's Atheist's Tragedy; or, the Honest Man's Revenge, was first printed in 1611, "as in divers places it hath often been acted." It was probably written earlier than The Revenger's Tragedy.
It was not printed again until 1792, and was subsequently included in Churton Collins's edition of Tourneur's works.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Montferrers, a Baron
Belforest, a Baron.
D'Amville, Brother of Montferrers.
Charlemont, Son of Montferrers.
Rousard, elder Son of D'Amville.
Sebastian, younger Son of D'Amville.
Languebeau Snuffe, a Puritan, Chaplain to Belforest.
Borachio, D'Amville's instrument.
Fresco, Servant to Cataplasma.
Serjeant in war.
Soldiers, Servants, Watchmen, Judges, Officers.
Levidulcia, Wife of Belforest.
Castabella, Daughter of Belforest.
Cataplasma, a Maker of Periwigs and Attires.
Soquette, a seeming Gentlewoman to Cataplasma.
SCENE—France.
THE ATHEIST'S TRAGEDY.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.—In the Grounds of D'Amville's Mansion.
Enter D'Amville, Borachio, and Attendants.
D'Am. I saw my nephew Charlemont but now
Part from his father. Tell him I desire
To speak with him. [Exit Servant.
Borachio, thou art read
In nature and her large philosophy.
Observ'st thou not the very self-same course
Of revolution, both in man and beast?
Bor. The same, for birth, growth, state, decay and death;
Only a man's beholding to his nature
For the better composition o' the two.
D'Am. But where that favour of his nature is
Not full and free, you see a man becomes
A fool, as little-knowing as a beast.
Bor. That shows there's nothing in a man above
His nature; if there were, considering 'tis
His being's excellency, 'twould not yield
To nature's weakness.
D'Am. Then, if Death casts up
Our total sum of joy and happiness,
Let me have all my senses feasted in
The abundant fulness of delight at once,
And, with a sweet insensible increase
Of pleasing surfeit, melt into my dust.
Bor. That revolution is too short, methinks.
If this life comprehends our happiness,
How foolish to desire to die so soon!
And if our time runs home unto the length
Of nature, how improvident it were
To spend our substance on a minute's pleasure,
And after, live an age in misery!
D'Am. So thou conclud'st that pleasure only flows
Upon the stream of riches?
Bor. Wealth is lord
Of all felicity.
D'Am. 'Tis, oracle.
For what's a man that's honest without wealth?
Bor. Both miserable and contemptible.
D'Am. He's worse, Borachio. For if charity
Be an essential part of honesty,
And should be practised first upon ourselves,
Which must be granted, then your honest man
That's poor, is most dishonest, for he is
Uncharitable to the man whom he
Should most respect. But what doth this touch me
That seem to have enough?—thanks industry.
'Tis true, had not my body spread itself
Into posterity, perhaps I should
Desire no more increase of substance, than
Would hold proportion with mine own dimensions.
Yet even in that sufficiency of state,
A man has reason to provide and add.
For what is he hath such a present eye,
And so prepared a strength, that can foresee,
And fortify his substance and himself
Against those accidents, the least whereof
May rob him of an age's husbandry?
And for my children, they are as near to me
As branches to the tree whereon they grow;
And may as numerously be multiplied.
As they increase, so should my providence;
For from my substance they receive the sap,
Whereby they live and flourish.
Bor. Sir, enough.
I understand the mark whereat you aim.
Enter Charlemont.
D'Am. Silence, we are interrupted. Charlemont!
Charl. Good morrow, uncle.
D'Am. Noble Charlemont,
Good morrow. Is not this the honoured day
You purposed to set forward to the war?
Charl. My inclination did intend it so.
D'Am. And not your resolution?
Charl. Yes, my lord;
Had not my father contradicted it.
D'Am. O noble war! Thou first original
Of all man's honour, how dejectedly
The baser spirit of our present time
Hath cast itself below the ancient worth
Of our forefathers, from whose noble deeds
Ignobly we derive our pedigrees.
Charl. Sir, tax not me for his unwillingness.
By the command of his authority
My disposition's forced against itself.
D'Am. Nephew, you are the honour of our blood.
The troop of gentry, whose inferior worth
Should second your example, are become
Your leaders; and the scorn of their discourse
Turns smiling back upon your backwardness.
Charl. You need not urge my spirit by disgrace,
'Tis free enough; my father hinders it.
To curb me, he denies me maintenance
To put me in the habit of my rank.
Unbind me from that strong necessity,—
And call me coward, if I stay behind.
D'Am. For want of means? Borachio, where's the gold?
I'd disinherit my posterity
To purchase honour. 'Tis an interest
I prize above the principal of wealth.
I'm glad I had the occasion to make known
How readily my substance shall unlock
Itself to serve you. Here's a thousand crowns.
Charl. My worthy uncle, in exchange for this
I leave my bond; so I am doubly bound;
By that, for the repayment of this gold,
And by this gold, to satisfy your love.
D'Am. Sir, 'tis a witness only of my love,
And love doth always satisfy itself.
Now to your father, labour his consent,
My importunity shall second yours.
We will obtain it.
Charl. If entreaty fail,
The force of reputation shall prevail. [Exit.
D'Am. Go call my sons, that they may take their leaves
Of noble Charlemont. Now, my Borachio!
Bor. The substance of our former argument
Was wealth.
D'Am. The question, how to compass it.
Bor. Young Charlemont is going to the war.
D'Am. O, thou begin'st to take me!
Bor. Mark me then.
Methinks the pregnant wit of man might make
The happy absence of this Charlemont
A subject of commodious providence.
He has a wealthy father, ready even
To drop into his grave. And no man's power,
When Charlemont is gone, can interpose
'Twixt you and him.
D'Am. Thou hast apprehended both
My meaning and my love. Now let thy trust,
For undertaking and for secrecy
Hold measure with thy amplitude of wit;
And thy reward shall parallel thy worth.
Bor. My resolution has already bound
Me to your service.
D'Am. And my heart to thee.
Enter Rousard and Sebastian.
Here are my sons.—
There's my eternity. My life in them
And their succession shall for ever live.
And in my reason dwells the providence
To add to life as much of happiness.
Let all men lose, so I increase my gain,
I have no feeling of another's pain. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—An Apartment in Montferrers' Mansion.
Enter Montferrers and Charlemont.
Mont. I prithee, let this current of my tears
Divert thy inclination from the war,
For of my children thou art only left
To promise a succession to my house.
And all the honour thou canst get by arms
Will give but vain addition to thy name;
Since from thy ancestors thou dost derive
A dignity sufficient, and as great
As thou hast substance to maintain and bear.
I prithee, stay at home.
Charl. My noble father,
The weakest sigh you breathe hath power to turn
My strongest purpose, and your softest tear
To melt my resolution to as soft
Obedience; but my affection to the war
Is as hereditary as my blood
To every life of all my ancestry.
Your predecessors were your precedents,
And you are my example. Shall I serve
For nothing but a vain parenthesis
I' the honoured story of your family?
Or hang but like an empty scutcheon
Between the trophies of my predecessors,
And the rich arms of my posterity?
There's not a Frenchman of good blood and youth,
But either out of spirit or example
Is turned a soldier. Only Charlemont
Must be reputed that same heartless thing
That cowards will be bold to play upon.
Enter D'Amville, Rousard, and Sebastian.
D'Am. Good morrow, my lord.
Mont. Morrow, good brother.
Charl. Good morrow, uncle.
D'Am. Morrow, kind nephew.
What, ha' you washed your eyes wi' tears this morning?
Come, by my soul, his purpose does deserve
Your free consent;—your tenderness dissuades him.
What to the father of a gentleman
Should be more tender than the maintenance
And the increase of honour to his house?
My lord, here are my boys. I should be proud
That either this were able, or that inclined
To be my nephew's brave competitor.
Mont. Your importunities have overcome.
Pray God my forced grant prove not ominous!
D'Am. We have obtained it.—Ominous! in what?
It cannot be in anything but death.
And I am of a confident belief
That even the time, place, manner of our deaths
Do follow Fate with that necessity
That makes us sure to die. And in a thing
Ordained so certainly unalterable,
What can the use of providence prevail?
Enter Belforest, Levidulcia, Castabella, and Attendants.
Bel. Morrow, my Lord Montferrers, Lord D'Amville.
Good morrow, gentlemen. Cousin Charlemont,
Kindly good morrow. Troth, I was afeared
I should ha' come too late to tell you that
I wish your undertakings a success
That may deserve the measure of their worth.
Charl. My lord, my duty would not let me go
Without receiving your commandëments.
Bel. Accompliments are more for ornament
Then use. We should employ no time in them
But what our serious business will admit.
Mont. Your favour had by his duty been prevented
If we had not withheld him in the way.
D'Am. He was a coming to present his service;
But now no more. The book invites to breakfast.
Wilt please your lordship enter?—Noble lady!
[Exeunt all except Charlemont and Castabella.
Charl. My noble mistress, this accompliment
Is like an elegant and moving speech,
Composed of many sweet persuasive points,
Which second one another, with a fluent
Increase and confirmation of their force,
Reserving still the best until the last,
To crown the strong impulsion of the rest
With a full conquest of the hearer's sense;
Because the impression of the last we speak
Doth always longest and most constantly
Possess the entertainment of remembrance.
So all that now salute my taking leave
Have added numerously to the love
Wherewith I did receive their courtesy.
But you, dear mistress, being the last and best
That speaks my farewell, like the imperious close
Of a most sweet oration, wholly have
Possessed my liking, and shall ever live
Within the soul of my true memory.
So, mistress, with this kiss I take my leave.
Cast. My worthy servant, you mistake the intent
Of kissing. 'Twas not meant to separate
A pair of lovers, but to be the seal
Of love; importing by the joining of
Our mutual and incorporated breaths,
That we should breathe but one contracted life.
Or stay at home, or let me go with you.
Charl. My Castabella, for myself to stay,
Or you to go, would either tax my youth
With a dishonourable weakness, or
Your loving purpose with immodesty.
Enter Languebeau Snuffe.
And, for the satisfaction of your love,
Here comes a man whose knowledge I have made
A witness to the contract of our vows,
Which my return, by marriage, shall confirm.
Lang. I salute you both with the spirit of copulation, already informed of your matrimonial purposes, and will testimony to the integrity—
Cast. O the sad trouble of my fearful soul!
My faithful servant, did you never hear
That when a certain great man went to the war,
The lovely face of Heaven was masqued with sorrow,
The sighing winds did move the breast of earth,
The heavy clouds hung down their mourning heads,
And wept sad showers the day that he went hence
As if that day presaged some ill success
That fatally should kill his happiness.
And so it came to pass. Methinks my eyes
(Sweet Heaven forbid!) are like those weeping clouds,
And as their showers presaged, so do my tears.
Some sad event will follow my sad fears.
Charl. Fie, superstitious! Is it bad to kiss?
Cast. May all my fears hurt me no more than this!
Lang. Fie, fie, fie! these carnal kisses do stir up the concupiscences of the flesh.
Enter Belforest and Levidulcia.
Lev. O! here's your daughter under her servant's lips.
Charl. Madam, there is no cause you should mistrust
The kiss I gave; 'twas but a parting one.
Lev. A lusty blood! Now by the lip of love,
Were I to choose your joining one for me—
Bel. Your father stays to bring you on the way.
Farewell. The great commander of the war
Prosper the course you undertake! Farewell.
Charl. My lord, I humbly take my leave.—Madam,
I kiss your hand.—And your sweet lip.—[To Castabella.] Farewell.
[Exeunt Belforest, Levidulcia, and Castabella.
Her power to speak is perished in her tears.
Something within me would persuade my stay,
But reputation will not yield unto't.
Dear sir, you are the man whose honest trust
My confidence hath chosen for my friend.
I fear my absence will discomfort her.
You have the power and opportunity
To moderate her passion. Let her grief
Receive that friendship from you, and your love
Shall not repent itself of courtesy.
Lang. Sir, I want words and protestation to insinuate into your credit; but in plainness and truth, I will qualify her grief with the spirit of consolation.
Charl. Sir, I will take your friendship up at use,
And fear not that your profit shall be small;
Your interest shall exceed your principal. [Exit.
Re-enter D'Amville with Borachio.
D'Am. Monsieur Languebeau! happily encountered. The honesty of your conversation makes me request more interest in your familiarity.
Lang. If your lordship will be pleased to salute me without ceremony, I shall be willing to exchange my service for your favour; but this worshipping kind of entertainment is a superstitious vanity; in plainness and truth, I love it not.
D'Am. I embrace your disposition, and desire to give you as liberal assurance of my love as my Lord Belforest, your deserved favourer.
Lang. His lordship is pleased with my plainness and truth of conversation.
D'Am. It cannot displease him. In the behaviour of his noble daughter Castabella a man may read her worth and your instruction.
Lang. That gentlewoman is most sweetly modest, fair, honest, handsome, wise, well-born, and rich.
D'Am. You have given me her picture in small.
Lang. She's like your diamond; a temptation in every man's eye, yet not yielding to any light impression herself.
D'Am. The praise is hers, but the comparison your own. [Gives him the ring.
Lang. You shall forgive me that, sir.
D'Am. I will not do so much at your request as forgive you it. I will only give you it, sir. By —— you will make me swear.
Lang. O! by no means. Profane not your lips with the foulness of that sin. I will rather take it. To save your oath, you shall lose your ring.—Verily, my lord, my praise came short of her worth. She exceeds a jewel. This is but only for ornament: she both for ornament and use.
D'Am. Yet unprofitably kept without use. She deserves a worthy husband, sir. I have often wished a match between my elder son and her. The marriage would join the houses of Belforest and D'Amville into a noble alliance.
Lang. And the unity of families is a work of love and charity.
D'Am. And that work an employment well becoming the goodness of your disposition.
Lang. If your lordship please to impose it upon me I will carry it without any second end; the surest way to satisfy your wish.
D'Am. Most joyfully accepted. Rousard! Here are letters to my Lord Belforest, touching my desire to that purpose.
Enter Rousard, looking sickly.
Rousard, I send you a suitor to Castabella. To this gentleman's discretion I commit the managing of your suit. His good success shall be most thankful to your trust. Follow his instructions; he will be your leader.
Lang. In plainness and truth.
Rous. My leader! Does your lordship think me too weak to give the onset myself?
Lang. I will only assist your proceedings.
Rous. To say true, so I think you had need; for a sick man can hardly get a woman's good will without help.
Lang. Charlemont, thy gratuity and my promises were both
But words, and both, like words, shall vanish into air.
For thy poor empty hand I must be mute;
This gives me feeling of a better suit.
[Exeunt Languebeau and Rousard.
D'Am. Borachio, didst precisely note this man?
Bor. His own profession would report him pure.
D'Am. And seems to know if any benefit
Arises of religion after death.
Yet but compare's profession with his life;—
They so directly contradict themselves,
As if the end of his instructions were
But to divert the world from sin, that he
More easily might ingross it to himself.
By that I am confirmed an atheist.
Well! Charlemont is gone; and here thou seest
His absence the foundation of my plot.
Bor. He is the man whom Castabella loves.
D'Am. That was the reason I propounded him
Employment, fixed upon a foreign place,
To draw his inclination out o' the way.
Bor. It has left the passage of our practice free.
D'Am. This Castabella is a wealthy heir;
And by her marriage with my elder son
My house is honoured and my state increased.
This work alone deserves my industry;
But if it prosper, thou shalt see my brain
Make this but an induction to a point
So full of profitable policy,
That it would make the soul of honesty
Ambitious to turn villain.
Bor. I bespeak
Employment in't. I'll be an instrument
To grace performance with dexterity.
D'Am. Thou shalt. No man shall rob thee of the honour.
Go presently and buy a crimson scarf
Like Charlemont's: prepare thee a disguise
I' the habit of a soldier, hurt and lame;
And then be ready at the wedding feast,
Where thou shalt have employment in a work
Will please thy disposition.
Bor. As I vowed,
Your instrument shall make your project proud.
D'Am. This marriage will bring wealth. If that succeed,
I will increase it though my brother bleed.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.—An Apartment in Belforest's Mansion.
Enter Castabella avoiding the importunity of Rousard.
Cast. Nay, good sir; in troth, if you knew how little it pleases me, you would forbear it.
Rous. I will not leave thee till thou'st entertained me for thy servant.
Cast. My servant! You are sick you say. You would tax me of indiscretion to entertain one that is not able to do me service.
Rous. The service of a gentlewoman consists most in chamber work, and sick men are fittest for the chamber. I prithee give me a favour.
Cast. Methinks you have a very sweet favour of your own.
Rous. I lack but your black eye.
Cast. If you go to buffets among the boys, they'll give you one.
Rous. Nay, if you grow bitter I'll dispraise your black eye.
The gray-eyed morning makes the fairest day.
Cast. Now that you dissemble not, I could be willing to give you a favour. What favour would you have?
Rous. Any toy, any light thing.
Cast. Fie! Will you be so uncivil to ask a light thing at a gentlewoman's hand?
Rous. Wilt give me a bracelet o' thy hair then?
Cast. Do you want hair, sir.
Rous. No, faith, I'll want no hair, so long as I can have it for money.
Cast. What would you do with my hair then?
Rous. Wear it for thy sake, sweetheart.
Cast. Do you think I love to have my hair worn off?
Rous. Come, you are so witty now and so sensible. [Kisses her.
Cast. Tush, I would I wanted one o' my senses now!
Rous. Bitter again? What's that? Smelling?
Cast. No, no, no. Why now y'are satisfied, I hope. I have given you a favour.
Rous. What favour? A kiss? I prithee give me another.
Cast. Show me that I gave it you then.
Rous. How should I show it?
Cast. You are unworthy of a favour if you will not bestow the keeping of it one minute.
Rous. Well, in plain terms, dost love me? That's the purpose of my coming.
Cast. Love you? Yes, very well.
Rous. Give me thy hand upon't.
Cast. Nay, you mistake me. If I love you very well I must not love you now. For now y'are not very well, y'are sick.
Rous. This equivocation is for the jest now.
Cast. I speak't as 'tis now in fashion, in earnest. But I shall not be in quiet for you, I perceive, till I have given you a favour. Do you love me?
Rous. With all my heart.
Cast. Then with all my heart I'll give you a jewel to hang in your ear.—Hark ye—I can never love you. [Exit.
Rous. Call you this a jewel to hang in mine ear? 'Tis no light favour, for I'll be sworn it comes somewhat heavily to me. Well, I will not leave her for all this. Methinks it animates a man to stand to't, when a woman desires to be rid of him at the first sight. [Exit.
SCENE IV.—Another Apartment in the same.
Enter Belforest and Languebeau Snuffe.
Bel. I entertain the offer of this match
With purpose to confirm it presently.
I have already moved it to my daughter.
Her soft excuses savoured at the first,
Methought, but of a modest innocence
Of blood, whose unmoved stream was never drawn
Into the current of affection. But when I
Replied with more familiar arguments,
Thinking to make her apprehension bold,—
Her modest blush fell to a pale dislike;
And she refused it with such confidence,
As if she had been prompted by a love
Inclining firmly to some other man;
And in that obstinacy she remains.
Lang. Verily, that disobedience doth not become a child. It proceedeth from an unsanctified liberty. You will be accessory to your own dishonour if you suffer it.
Bel. Your honest wisdom has advised me well.
Once more I'll move her by persuasive means.
If she resist, all mildness set apart,
I will make use of my authority.
Lang. And instantly, lest fearing your constraint
Her contrary affection teach her some
Device that may prevent you.
Bel. To cut off every opportunity
Procrastination may assist her with
This instant night she shall be married.
Lang. Best.
Enter Castabella.
Cast. Please it your lordship, my mother attends
I' the gallery, and desires your conference.
[Exit Belforest.
This means I used to bring me to your ear.
[To Languebeau.
Time cuts off circumstance; I must be brief,
To your integrity did Charlemont
Commit the contract of his love and mine;
Which now so strong a hand seeks to divide,
That if your grave advice assist me not,
I shall be forced to violate my faith.
Lang. Since Charlemont's absence I have weighed his love with the spirit of consideration; and in sincerity I find it to be frivolous and vain. Withdraw your respect; his affection deserveth it not.
Cast. Good sir, I know your heart cannot profane
The holiness you make profession of
With such a vicious purpose as to break
The vow your own consent did help to make.
Lang. Can he deserve your love who in neglect
Of your delightful conversation and
In obstinate contempt of all your prayers
And tears, absents himself so far from your
Sweet fellowship, and with a purpose so
Contracted to that absence that you see
He purchases your separation with
The hazard of his blood and life, fearing to want
Pretence to part your companies.—
'Tis rather hate that doth division move.
Love still desires the presence of his love.—
Verily he is not of the family of love.
Cast. O do not wrong him! 'Tis a generous mind
That led his disposition to the war:
For gentle love and noble courage are
So near allied, that one begets another;
Or Love is sister and Courage is the brother.
Could I affect him better then before,
His soldier's heart would make me love him more.
Lang. But, Castabella—
Enter Levidulcia.
Lev. Tush, you mistake the way into a woman.
The passage lies not through her reason but her blood.
[Exit Languebeau. Castabella about to follow.
Nay, stay! How wouldst thou call the child,
That being raised with cost and tenderness
To full hability of body and means,
Denies relief unto the parents who
Bestowed that bringing up?
Cast. Unnatural.
Lev. Then Castabella is unnatural.
Nature, the loving mother of us all,
Brought forth a woman for her own relief
By generation to revive her age;
Which, now thou hast hability and means
Presented, most unkindly dost deny.
Cast. Believe me, mother, I do love a man.
Lev. Preferr'st the affection of an absent love
Before the sweet possession of a man;
The barren mind before the fruitful body,
Where our creation has no reference
To man but in his body, being made
Only for generation; which (unless
Our children can be gotten by conceit)
Must from the body come? If Reason were
Our counsellor, we would neglect the work
Of generation for the prodigal
Expense it draws us to of that which is
The wealth of life. Wise Nature, therefore, hath
Reserved for an inducement to our sense
Our greatest pleasure in that greatest work;
Which being offered thee, thy ignorance
Refuses, for the imaginary joy
Of an unsatisfied affection to
An absent man whose blood once spent i' the war
Then he'll come home sick, lame, and impotent,
And wed thee to a torment, like the pain
Of Tantalus, continuing thy desire
With fruitless presentation of the thing
It loves, still moved, and still unsatisfied.
Enter Belforest, D'Amville, Rousard, Sebastian, Languebeau, &c.
Bel. Now, Levidulcia, hast thou yet prepared
My daughter's love to entertain this man
Her husband, here?
Lev. I'm but her mother i' law;
Yet if she were my very flesh and blood
I could advise no better for her[144] good.
Rous. Sweet wife,
Thy joyful husband thus salutes thy cheek.
Cast. My husband? O! I am betrayed.—
Dear friend of Charlemont, your purity
Professes a divine contempt o' the world;
O be not bribed by that you so neglect,
In being the world's hated instrument,
To bring a just neglect upon yourself!
[Kneels from one to another.
Dear father, let me but examine my
Affection.—Sir, your prudent judgment can
Persuade your son that 'tis improvident
To marry one whose disposition he
Did ne'er observe.—Good sir, I may be of
A nature so unpleasing to your mind,
Perhaps you'll curse the fatal hour wherein
You rashly married me.
D'Am. My Lord Belforest,
I would not have her forced against her choice.
Bel. Passion o' me, thou peevish girl! I charge
Thee by my blessing, and the authority
I have to claim thy obedience, marry him.
Cast. Now, Charlemont! O my presaging tears!
This sad event hath followed my sad fears.
Sebas. A rape, a rape, a rape!
Bel. How now!
D'Am. What's that?
Sebas. Why what is't but a rape to force a wench
To marry, since it forces her to lie
With him she would not?
Lang. Verily his tongue is an unsanctified member.
Sebas. Verily
Your gravity becomes your perished soul
As hoary mouldiness does rotten fruit.
Bel. Cousin, y'are both uncivil and profane.
D'Am. Thou disobedient villain, get thee out of my sight.
Now, by my soul, I'll plague thee for this rudeness.
Bel. Come, set forward to the church.
[Exeunt all except Sebastian.
Sebas. And verify the proverb—The nearer the church the further from God.—Poor wench! For thy sake may his hability die in his appetite, that thou beest not troubled with him thou lovest not! May his appetite move thy desire to another man, so he shall help to make himself cuckold! And let that man be one that he pays wages to; so thou shalt profit by him thou hatest. Let the chambers be matted, the hinges oiled, the curtain rings silenced, and the chambermaid hold her peace at his own request, that he may sleep the quieter; and in that sleep let him be soundly cuckolded. And when he knows it, and seeks to sue a divorce, let him have no other satisfaction than this: He lay by and slept: the law will take no hold of her because he winked at it. [Exit.
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE I.—The Banqueting Room in Belforest's Mansion.
Night time. A Banquet set out. Music.
Enter D'Amville, Belforest, Levidulcia, Rousard, Castabella, Languebeau Snuffe, at one side. At the other side enter Cataplasma and Soquette, ushered by Fresco.
Lev. Mistress Cataplasma, I expected you an hour since.
Cata. Certain ladies at my house, madam, detained me; otherwise I had attended your ladyship sooner.
Lev. We are beholden to you for your company. My lord, I pray you bid these gentlewomen welcome; they're my invited friends.
D'Am. Gentlewomen, y'are welcome. Pray sit down.
Lev. Fresco, by my Lord D'Amville's leave, I prithee go into the buttery. Thou shalt find some o' my men there. If they bid thee not welcome they are very loggerheads.
Fres. If your loggerheads will not, your hogsheads shall, madam, if I get into the buttery. [Exit.
D'Am. That fellow's disposition to mirth should be our present example. Let's be grave, and meditate when our affairs require our seriousness. 'Tis out of season to be heavily disposed.
Lev. We should be all wound up into the key of mirth.
D'Am. The music there!
Bel. Where's my Lord Montferrers? Tell him here's a room attends him.
Enter Montferrers.
Mont. Heaven given your marriage that I am deprived of, joy!
D'Am. My Lord Belforest, Castabella's health!
[D'Amville drinks.
Set ope the cellar doors, and let this health
Go freely round the house.—Another to
Your son, my lord; to noble Charlemont—
He is a soldier—Let the instruments
Of war congratulate his memory.
[Drums and trumpets.
Enter a Servant.
Ser. My lord, here's one, i' the habit of a soldier, says he is newly returned from Ostend, and has some business of import to speak.
D'Am. Ostend! let him come in. My soul foretells
He brings the news will make our music full.
My brother's joy would do't, and here comes he
Will raise it.
Enter Borachio disguised.
Mont. O my spirit, it does dissuade
My tongue to question him, as if it knew
His answer would displease.
D'Am. Soldier, what news?
We heard a rumour of a blow you gave
The enemy.[145]
Bor. 'Tis very true, my lord.
Bel. Canst thou relate it?
Bor. Yes.
D'Am. I prithee do.
Bor. The enemy, defeated of a fair
Advantage by a flatt'ring stratagem,
Plants all the artillery against the town;
Whose thunder and lightning made our bulwarks shake,
And threatened in that terrible report
The storm wherewith they meant to second it.
The assault was general. But, for the place
That promised most advantage to be forced,
The pride of all their army was drawn forth
And equally divided into front
And rear. They marched, and coming to a stand,
Ready to pass our channel at an ebb,
We advised it for our safest course, to draw
Our sluices up and mak't impassable.
Our governor opposed and suffered them
To charge us home e'en to the rampier's foot.
But when their front was forcing up our breach
At push o' pike, then did his policy
Let go the sluices, and tripped up the heels
Of the whole body of their troop that stood
Within the violent current of the stream.
Their front, beleaguered 'twixt the water and
The town, seeing the flood was grown too deep
To promise them a safe retreat, exposed
The force of all their spirits (like the last
Expiring gasp of a strong-hearted man)
Upon the hazard of one charge, but were
Oppressed, and fell. The rest that could not swim
Were only drowned; but those that thought to 'scape
By swimming, were by murderers that flanked
The level of the flood, both drowned and slain.
D'Am. Now, by my soul, soldier, a brave service.
Mont. O what became of my dear Charlemont?
Bor. Walking next day upon the fatal shore,
Among the slaughtered bodies of their men
Which the full-stomached sea had cast upon
The sands, it was my unhappy chance to light
Upon a face, whose favour[146] when it lived,
My astonished mind informed me I had seen.
He lay in's armour, as if that had been
His coffin; and the weeping sea, like one
Whose milder temper doth lament the death
Of him whom in his rage he slew, runs up
The shore, embraces him, kisses his cheek,
Goes back again, and forces up the sands
To bury him, and every time it parts
Sheds tears upon him, till at last (as if
It could no longer endure to see the man
Whom it had slain, yet loth to leave him) with
A kind of unresolved unwilling pace,
Winding her waves one in another, like
A man that folds his arms or wrings his hands
For grief, ebbed from the body, and descends
As if it would sink down into the earth,
And hide itself for shame of such a deed.[147]
D'Am. And, soldier, who was this?
Mont. O Charlemont!
Bor. Your fear hath told you that, whereof my grief
Was loth to be the messenger.
Cast. O God! [Exit.
D'Am. Charlemont drowned! Why how could that be, since
It was the adverse party that received
The overthrow?
Bor. His forward spirit pressed into the front,
And being engaged within the enemy
When they retreated through the rising stream,
I' the violent confusion of the throng
Was overborne, and perished in the flood.
And here's the sad remembrance of his life—the scarf,
Which, for his sake, I will for ever wear.
Mont. Torment me not with witnesses of that
Which I desire not to believe, yet must.
D'Am. Thou art a screech-owl and dost come i' the night
To be the cursèd messenger of death.
Away! depart my house, or, by my soul,
You'll find me a more fatal enemy
Than ever was Ostend. Begone; dispatch!
Bor. Sir, 'twas my love.
D'Am. Your love to vex my heart
With that I hate?
Hark, do you hear, you knave?
O thou'rt a most delicate, sweet, eloquent villain!
[Aside.
Bor. Was't not well counterfeited? [Aside.
D'Am. Rarely.—[Aside.] Begone. I will not here reply.
Bor. Why then, farewell. I will not trouble you.
[Exit.
D'Am. So. The foundation's laid. Now by degrees
[Aside.
The work will rise and soon be perfected.
O this uncertain state of mortal man!
Bel. What then? It is the inevitable fate
Of all things underneath the moon.
D'Am. 'Tis true.
Brother, for health's sake overcome your grief.
Mont. I cannot, sir. I am incapable
Of comfort. My turn will be next. I feel
Myself not well.
D'Am. You yield too much to grief.
Lang. All men are mortal. The hour of death is
uncertain. Age makes sickness the more dangerous,
and grief is subject to distraction. You know not
how soon you may be deprived of the benefit of
sense. In my understanding, therefore,
You shall do well if you be sick to set
Your state in present order. Make your will.
D'Am. I have my wish. Lights for my brother.
Mont. I'll withdraw a while,
And crave the honest counsel of this man.
Bel. With all my heart. I pray attend him, sir.
[Exeunt Montferrers and Snuffe.
This next room, please your lordship.
D'Am. Where you will.
[Exeunt Belforest and D'Amville.
Lev. My daughter's gone. Come, son, Mistress Cataplasma, come, we'll up into her chamber. I'd fain see how she entertains the expectation of her husband's bedfellowship.
Rou. 'Faith, howsoever she entertains it, I
Shall hardly please her; therefore let her rest.
Lev. Nay, please her hardly, and you please her best.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.—The Hall in the same.
Enter three Servants, drunk, drawing in Fresco.
1st Ser. Boy! fill some drink, boy.
Fres. Enough, good sir; not a drop more by this light.
2nd Ser. Not by this light? Why then put out the candles and we'll drink i' the dark, and t'-to't, old boy.
Fres. No, no, no, no, no.
3rd Ser. Why then take thy liquor. A health, Fresco! [Kneels.
Fres. Your health will make me sick, sir.
1st Ser. Then 'twill bring you o' your knees, I hope, sir.
Fres. May I not stand and pledge it, sir?
2nd Ser. I hope you will do as we do.
Fres. Nay then, indeed I must not stand, for you cannot.
3rd Ser. Well said, old boy.
Fres. Old boy! you'll make me a young child anon; for if I continue this I shall scarce be able to go alone.
1st Ser. My body is as weak as water, Fresco.
Fres. Good reason, sir. The beer has sent all the malt up into your brain and left nothing but the water in your body.
Enter D'Amville and Borachio, closely observing their drunkenness.
D'Am. Borachio, seest those fellows?
Bor. Yes, my lord.
D'Am. Their drunkenness, that seems ridiculous,
Shall be a serious instrument to bring
Our sober purposes to their success.
Bor. I am prepared for the execution, sir.
D'Am. Cast off this habit and about it straight.
Bor. Let them drink healths and drown their brains i' the flood;
I promise them they shall be pledged in blood.
[Exit.
1st Ser. You ha' left a damnable snuff here.
2nd Ser. Do you take that in snuff, sir?
1st Ser. You are a damnable rogue then—
[Together by the ears.
D'Am. Fortune, I honour thee. My plot still rises
According to the model of mine own desires.
Lights for my brother—What ha' you drunk yourselves mad, you knaves?
1st Ser. My lord, the jacks abused me.
D'Am. I think they are the jacks[148] indeed that have abused thee. Dost hear? That fellow is a proud knave. He has abused thee. As thou goest over the fields by-and-by in lighting my brother home, I'll tell thee what shalt do. Knock him over the pate with thy torch. I'll bear thee out in't.
1st Ser. I will singe the goose by this torch. [Exit.
D'Am. [To 2nd Servant.] Dost hear, fellow?
Seest thou that proud knave.
I have given him a lesson for his sauciness.
He's wronged thee. I will tell thee what shalt do:
As we go over the fields by-and-by
Clap him suddenly o'er the coxcomb with
Thy torch. I'll bear thee out in't.
2nd Ser. I will make him understand as much. [Exit.
Enter Languebeau Snuffe.
D'Am. Now, Monsieur Snuffe, what has my brother done?
Lang. Made his will, and by that will made you his heir with this proviso, that as occasion shall hereafter move him, he may revoke, or alter it when he pleases.
D'Am. Yes. Let him if he can.—I'll make it sure
From his revoking. [Aside.
Enter Montferrers and Belforest attended with lights.
Mont. Brother, now good night.
D'Am. The sky is dark; we'll bring you o'er the fields.
Who can but strike, wants wisdom to maintain;
He that strikes safe and sure, has heart and brain.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.—An Apartment in the same.
Enter Castabella.
Cas. O love, thou chaste affection of the soul,
Without the adulterate mixture of the blood,
That virtue, which to goodness addeth good,—
The minion of Heaven's heart. Heaven! is't my fate
For loving that thou lov'st, to get thy hate,
Or was my Charlemont thy chosen love,
And therefore hast received him to thyself?
Then I confess thy anger's not unjust.
I was thy rival. Yet to be divorced
From love, has been a punishment enough
(Sweet Heaven!) without being married unto hate,
Hadst thou been pleased,—O double misery,—
Yet, since thy pleasure hath inflicted it,
If not my heart, my duty shall submit.
Enter Levidulcia, Rousard, Cataplasma, Soquette, and Fresco with a lanthorn.
Lev. Mistress Cataplasma, good night. I pray when your man has brought you home, let him return and light me to my house.
Cata. He shall instantly wait upon your ladyship.
Lev. Good Mistress Cataplasma! for my servants
are all drunk, I cannot be beholden to 'em for their
attendance.
[Exeunt Cataplasma, Soquette, and Fresco.
O here's your bride!
Rous. And melancholic too, methinks.
Lev. How can she choose? Your sickness will
Distaste the expected sweetness o' the night
That makes her heavy.
Rous. That should make her light.
Lev. Look you to that.
Cast. What sweetness speak you of?
The sweetness of the night consists in rest.
Rous. With that sweetness thou shalt be surely blest
Unless my groaning wake thee. Do not moan.
Lev. She'd rather you would wake, and make her groan.
Rous. Nay 'troth, sweetheart, I will not trouble thee.
Thou shalt not lose thy maidenhead to-night.
Cast. O might that weakness ever be in force,
I never would desire to sue divorce.
Rous. Wilt go to bed?
Cast. I will attend you, sir.
Rous. Mother, good night.
Lev. Pleasure be your bedfellow.
[Exeunt Rousard and Castabella.
Why sure their generation was asleep
When she begot those dormice, that she made
Them up so weakly and imperfectly.
One wants desire, the t'other ability,
When my affection even with their cold bloods
(As snow rubbed through an active hand does make
The flesh to burn) by agitation is
Inflamed, I could embrace and entertain
The air to cool it.
Enter Sebastian.
Sebas. That but mitigates
The heat; rather embrace and entertain
A younger brother; he can quench the fire.
Lev. Can you so, sir? Now I beshrew your ear.
Why, bold Sebastian, how dare you approach
So near the presence of your displeased father?
Sebas. Under the protection of his present absence.
Lev. Belike you knew he was abroad then?
Sebas. Yes.
Let me encounter you so: I'll persuade
Your means to reconcile me to his loves.
Lev. Is that the way? I understand you not.
But for your reconcilement meet me at home;
I'll satisfy your suit.
Sebas. Within this half-hour? [Exit.
Lev. Or within this whole hour. When you will.—A
lusty blood! has both the presence and spirit of a
man. I like the freedom of his behaviour.
—Ho!—Sebastian! Gone?—Has set
My blood o' boiling i' my veins. And now,
Like water poured upon the ground that mixes
Itself with every moisture it meets, I could
Clasp with any man.
Enter Fresco with a lanthorn.
O, Fresco, art thou come?
If t'other fail, then thou art entertained.
Lust is a spirit, which whosoe'er doth raise,
The next man that encounters boldly, lays. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—A Country Road near a Gravel Pit. Night time.
Enter Borachio warily and hastily over the Stage with a stone in either hand.
Bor. Such stones men use to raise a house upon,
But with these stones I go to ruin one. [Descends.
Enter two Servants drunk, fighting with their torches; D'Amville, Montferrers, Belforest, and Languebeau Snuffe.
Bel. Passion o' me, you drunken knaves! You'll put
The lights out.
D'Am. No, my lord; they are but in jest.
1st Ser. Mine's out.
D'Am. Then light it at his head,—that's light enough.—
'Fore God, they are out. You drunken rascals, back
And light 'em.
Bel. 'Tis exceeding dark. [Exeunt Servants.
D'Am. No matter;
I am acquainted with the way. Your hand.
Let's easily walk. I'll lead you till they come.
Mont. My soul's oppressed with grief. 'T lies heavy at
My heart. O my departed son, ere long
I shall be with thee!
[D'Amville thrusts him down into the gravel pit.
D'Am. Marry, God forbid!
Mont. O, O, O!
D'Am. Now all the host of Heaven forbid! Knaves! Rogues!
Bel. Pray God he be not hurt. He's fallen into the gravel pit.
D'Am. Brother! dear brother! Rascals! villains! Knaves!
Re-enter Servants with lights.
Eternal darkness damn you! come away!
Go round about into the gravel pit,
And help my brother up. Why what a strange
Unlucky night is this! Is't not, my lord?
I think that dog that howled the news of grief,
That fatal screech-owl, ushered on this mischief.
[Exit Servants and Re-enter with the murdered body.
Lang. Mischief indeed, my lord. Your brother's dead!
Bel. He's dead?
Ser. He's dead!
D'Am. Dead be your tongues! Drop out
Mine eye-balls and let envious Fortune play
At tennis with 'em. Have I lived to this?
Malicious Nature, hadst thou borne me blind,
Thou hadst yet been something favourable to me.
No breath? no motion? Prithee tell me, Heaven,
Hast shut thine eye to wink at murder; or
Hast put this sable garment on to mourn
At's death?
Not one poor spark in the whole spacious sky
Of all that endless number would vouchsafe
To shine?—You viceroys to the king of Nature,
Whose constellations govern mortal births,
Where is that fatal planet ruled at his
Nativity? that might ha' pleased to light him out,
As well as into the world, unless it be
Ashamèd I have been the instrument
Of such a good man's cursèd destiny.—
Bel. Passion transports you. Recollect yourself.
Lament him not. Whether our deaths be good
Or bad, it is not death, but life that tries.
He lived well; therefore, questionless, well dies.
D'Am. Ay, 'tis an easy thing for him that has
No pain, to talk of patience. Do you think
That Nature has no feeling?
Bel. Feeling? Yes.
But has she purposed anything for nothing?
What good receives this body by your grief?
Whether is't more unnatural, not to grieve
For him you cannot help with it, or hurt
Yourself with grieving, and yet grieve in vain?
D'Am. Indeed, had he been taken from me like
A piece o' dead flesh, I should neither ha' felt it
Nor grieved for't. But come hither, pray look here.
Behold the lively tincture of his blood!
Neither the dropsy nor the jaundice in't,
But the true freshness of a sanguine red,
For all the fog of this black murderous night
Has mixed with it. For anything I know
He might ha' lived till doomsday, and ha' done
More good than either you or I. O brother!
He was a man of such a native goodness,
As if regeneration had been given
Him in his mother's womb. So harmless
That rather than ha' trod upon a worm
He would ha' shunned the way.
So dearly pitiful that ere the poor
Could ask his charity with dry eyes he gave 'em
Relief with tears—with tears—yes, faith, with tears.
Bel. Take up the corpse. For wisdom's sake let reason fortify this weakness.
D'Am. Why, what would you ha' me do? Foolish Nature
Will have her course in spite o' wisdom. But
I have e'en done. All these words were
But a great wind; and now this shower of tears
Has laid it, I am calm again. You may
Set forward when you will. I'll follow you
Like one that must and would not.
Lang. Our opposition will but trouble him.
Bel. The grief that melts to tears by itself is spent;
Passion resisted grows more violent.
[Exeunt all except D'Amville. Borachio ascends.
D'Am. Here's a sweet comedy. 'T begins with O
Dolentis[149] and concludes with ha, ha, he!
Bor. Ha, ha, he!
D'Am. O my echo! I could stand
Reverberating this sweet musical air
Of joy till I had perished my sound lungs
With violent laughter. Lonely night-raven,
Thou hast seized a carcase.
Bor. Put him out on's pain.
I lay so fitly underneath the bank,
From whence he fell, that ere his faltering tongue
Could utter double O, I knocked out's brains
With this fair ruby, and had another stone,
Just of this form and bigness, ready; that
I laid i' the broken skull upon the ground
For's pillow, against the which they thought he fell
And perished.
D'Am. Upon this ground I'll build my manor house;
And this shall be the chiefest corner stone.
Bor. 'T has crowned the most judicious murder that
The brain of man was e'er delivered of.
D'Am. Ay, mark the plot. Not any circumstance
That stood within the reach of the design
Of persons, dispositions, matter, time, or place
But by this brain of mine was made
An instrumental help; yet nothing from
The induction to the accomplishment seemed forced,
Or done o' purpose, but by accident.
Bor. First, my report that Charlemont was dead,
Though false, yet covered with a mask of truth.
D'Am. Ay, and delivered in as fit a time
When all our minds so wholly were possessed
With one affair, that no man would suspect
A thought employed for any second end.
Bor. Then the precisian[150] to be ready, when
Your brother spake of death, to move his will.
D'Am. His business called him thither, and it fell
Within his office unrequested to't.
From him it came religiously, and saved
Our project from suspicion which if I
Had moved, had been endangered.
Bor. Then your healths,
Though seeming but the ordinary rites
And ceremonies due to festivals—
D'Am. Yet used by me to make the servants drunk,
An instrument the plot could not have missed.
'Twas easy to set drunkards by the ears,
They'd nothing but their torches to fight with,
And when those lights were out—
Bor. Then darkness did
Protect the execution of the work
Both from prevention and discovery.
D'Am. Here was a murder bravely carried through
The eye of observation, unobserved.
Bor. And those that saw the passage of it made
The instruments, yet knew not what they did.
D'Am. That power of rule philosophers ascribe
To him they call the Supreme of the stars
Making their influences governors
Of sublunary creatures, when themselves
Are senseless of their operations.
What! [Thunder and lightning.
Dost start at thunder? Credit my belief
'Tis a mere effect of Nature—an exhalation hot
And dry involved within a watery vapour
I' the middle region of the air; whose coldness,
Congealing that thick moisture to a cloud,
The angry exhalation, shut within
A prison of contrary quality,
Strives to be free and with the violent
Eruption through the grossness of that cloud,
Makes this noise we hear.
Bor. 'Tis a fearful noise.
D'Am. 'Tis a brave noise, and methinks
Graces our accomplished project as
A peal of ordnance does a triumph. It speaks
Encouragement. Now Nature shows thee how
It favoured our performance, to forbear
This noise when we set forth, because it should
Not terrify my brother's going home,
Which would have dashed our purpose,—to forbear
This lightning in our passage lest it should
Ha' warned him o' the pitfall.
Then propitious Nature winked
At our proceedings: now it doth express
How that forbearance favoured our success.
Bor. You have confirmed me. For it follows well
That Nature, since herself decay doth hate,
Should favour those that strengthen their estate.
D'Am. Our next endeavour is, since on the false
Report that Charlemont is dead depends
The fabric of the work, to credit that
With all the countenance we can.
Bor. Faith, sir,
Even let his own inheritance, whereof
You have dispossessed him, countenance the act.
Spare so much out of that to give him a
Solemnity of funeral. 'Twill quit
The cost, and make your apprehension of
His death appear more confident and true.
D'Am. I'll take thy counsel. Now farewell, black Night;
Thou beauteous mistress of a murderer.
To honour thee that hast accomplished all
I'll wear thy colours at his funeral. [Exeunt.
SCENE V.—Levidulcia's Apartment.
Enter Levidulcia manned[151] by Fresco.