The Project Gutenberg ebook of The Works of John Marston, edited by A. H. Bullen.

[101] Open (Gr. χαίνω, χαυνῶ). Cotgrave gives:—“To chawne,—se fendre, gercer, crevasser, crever, se jarcer.”

[102] Old eds. “Speake” (and “Speak”).

[103] “‘The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger.’ Richard III.”—Dilke.

[104] Cf. Richard III. (v. 3):—
“God and good angels fight on Richmond’s side.”

[105] Old eds. “Chekle-roule.”

[106] “Cog a die” = load a die.

[107] Dilke compares Richard III. (v. 3):—

“Who saw the sun to-day?
Rat. Not I, my lord.
Rich. Then he disdains to shine.”

[108] Omitted in ed. 1.

[109] Variations in music.

[110] The sentiment is from Seneca’s Thyestes, l. 925:—

“Magis unde cadas
Quam quo refert.”

[111] “The situation of Andrugio and Lucio resembles that of Lear and Kent, in that King’s distresses. Andrugio, like Lear, manifests a kind of royal impatience, a turbulent greatness, an affected resignation. The enemies which he enters lists to combat, ‘Despair, and mighty Grief, and sharp Impatience;’ and the Forces (‘Cornets of Horse,’ &c.) which he brings to vanquish them, are in the boldest style of allegory. They are such a ‘race of mourners’ as ‘the infection of sorrows loud’ in the intellect might beget on ‘some pregnant cloud’ in the imagination.”—Charles Lamb.

Feli. Castilio, Alberto, Balurdo! none up?
Forobosco! Flattery, nor thou up yet?
Then there’s no courtier stirring: that’s firm truth?
I cannot sleep: Feliche seldom rests
In these court lodgings. I have walk’d all night,
To see if the nocturnal court delights
Could force me envy their felicity:
And by plain troth, I will confess plain troth,
I envy nothing but the travense [112] light.
O, had it eyes, and ears, and tongues, it might 10
See sport, hear speech of most strange surquedries.[113]
O, if that candle-light were made a poet,
He would prove a rare firking satirist,
And draw the core forth of imposthum’d sin.
Well, I thank heaven yet, that my content
Can envy nothing, but poor candle-light.
As for the other glistering copper spangs,
That glisten in the tire of the court,
Praise God, I either hate, or pity them.
Well, here I’ll sleep till that the scene of up 20
Is pass’d at court. O calm hush’d rich Content,
Is there a being blessedness without thee?
How soft thou down’st the couch where thou dost rest,
Nectar to life, thou sweet Ambrosian feast!

Enter Castilio and his Page Catzo: Castilio with a casting-bottle[114] of sweet water in his hand, sprinkling himself.

Cat. Yes, when your throat’s perfum’d; your very words
Do smell of ambergris. O stay, sir, stay;
Sprinkle some sweet water to your shoe’s heels,
That your mistress may swear you have a sweet foot.

Feli. Fut, what treble minikin [116] squeaks there, ha? “good, very good, very very good!”

Cast. I will warble to the delicious conclave of my mistress’ ear: and strike her thoughts with the pleasing touch of my voice.

Cast. Now thou hast seen the court, by the perfection of it, dost not envy it? 41

Feli. I wonder it doth not envy me. Why, man,
I have been borne upon the spirit’s wings,
The soul’s swift Pegasus, the fantasy:
And from the height of contemplation,
Have view’d the feeble joints men totter on.
I envy none; but hate, or pity all.
For when I view, with an intentive thought,
That creature fair but proud; him rich, but sot;
Th’ other witty, but unmeasured arrogant; 50
Him great, yet boundless in ambition;
Him high-born, but of base life; t’ other fear’d,
Yet fearèd fears, and fears most to be loved;[117]
Him wise, but made a fool for public use;
The other learned, but self-opinionate:
When I discourse all these, and see myself
Nor fair, nor rich, nor witty, great, nor fear’d,
Yet amply suited with all full content,
Lord, how I clap my hands, and smooth my brow,
Rubbing my quiet bosom, tossing up 60
A grateful spirit to Omnipotence!

Cast. Hah, hah! but if thou knew’st my happiness,
Thou would’st even grate away thy soul to dust,
In envy of my sweet beatitude.
I cannot sleep for kisses; I cannot rest
For ladies’ letters, that importune me
With such unusèd vehemence of love,
Straight to solicit them, that——.

Feli. Confusion seize me, but I think thou liest.
Why should I not be sought to then as well? 70
Fut, methinks I am as like a man.
Troth, I have a good head of hair, a cheek
Not as yet wan’d, a leg, ’faith, in the full.
I ha’ not a red beard, take not tobacco much:
And ’lid, for other parts of manliness—

Cast. Pew waw, you ne’er accourted [118] them in pomp,
Put your good parts in presence graciously.
Ha, and you had, why, they would ha’ come off,
Sprung to your arms, and sued, and prayed, and vowed,
And opened all their sweetness to your love. 80

Feli. There are a number of such things as thou [119]
Have often urged me to such loose belief;
But, ’slid, you all do lie, you all do lie.
I have put on good clothes, and smugg’d my face,
Strook a fair wench with a smart, speaking eye;
Courted in all sorts, blunt and passionate;
Had opportunity, put them to the ah!
And, by this light, I find them wondrous chaste,
Impregnable; perchance a kiss, or so:
But for the rest, O most inexorable! 90

Feli. To her most esteemed, loved, and generous servant, Sig. Castilio Balthazar.
Prithee from whom comes this? faith, I must see.
From her that is devoted to thee, in most private sweets of love, Rossaline.
Nay, God’s my comfort, I must see the rest;
I must, sans ceremony; faith, I must.

Feli. Item, for strait canvass, thirteen pence halfpenny; item, for an ell and a half of taffeta to cover your old canvass doublet, fourteen shillings and threepence.—’Slight, this is a tailor’s bill.

Bal. By the sugar-candy sky, hold up the glass higher, that I may see to swear in fashion. O, one loof [121] more would ha’ made them shine; God’s neaks,[122] they would have shone like my mistress’ brow. Even so the Duke frowns, for all this curson’d [123] world: O, that gern [124] kills, it kills. By my golden—what’s the richest thing about me? 130

Bal. By my golden teeth, hold up, that I may put in: hold up, I say, that I may see to put on my gloves.

Dil. O, delicious, sweet-cheek’d master, if you discharge but one glance from the level of that set face, O, you will strike a wench; you’ll make any wench love you.

Bal. By Jesu, I think I am as elegant a courtier as——. How likest thou my suit?

Cat. All, beyond all, no peregal:[125] you are wondered at—[Aside.] for an ass. 141

Bal. Well, Dildo, no Christen creature shall know hereafter, what I will do for thee heretofore.

Bal. Pew, thou jest’st. In good sadness, I’ll have a looking-glass nail’d to the testern of the bed, that I may see when I sleep whether ’tis so or not; take heed you lie not: go to, take heed you lie not. 150

Fla. By my troth, you look as like the princess, now—Ay—but her lip is—lip is—a little——redder, a very little redder.

Ros.[126] But by the help of art or nature, ere I change my periwig, mine shall be as red.

Fla.[127] O ay, that face, that eye, that smile, that writhing of your body, that wanton dandling of your fan, becomes prethely, so sweethly, ’tis even the goodest lady that breathes, the most amiable——. Faith, the fringe of your satin petticoat is ript. Good faith, madam, they say you are the most bounteous lady to your women that ever—— most delicious beauty! Good madam, let me kith it.

Bal. And how does my sweet mistress? O Lady dear, even as ’tis an old say, “’tis an old horse can neither wighy,[129] nor wag his tail:” even so do I hold my set face still: even so, ’tis a bad courtier that can neither discourse, nor blow his nose. 173

Pier.—[reads.] Meet me at Abraham’s, the Jew’s, where I bought my Amazon’s disguise. A ship lies in the port, ready bound for England; make haste, come private. Antonio.

Forobosco, Alberto, Feliche, Castilio, Balurdo! run, keep the palace, post to the ports, go to my daughter’s chamber! whither now? scud to the Jew’s! stay, run to the gates, stop the gundolets,[130] let none pass the marsh! do all at once! Antonio! his head, his head! Keep you the court, the rest stand still, or run, or go, or shout, or search, or scud, or call, or hang, or do-do-do su-su-su something! I know not who-who-who what I do-do-do, nor who-who-who, where I am. 185
O trista traditrice, rea ribalda fortuna,
Negando mi vindetta mi causa fera morte.

Ant. Alma et graziosa fortuna siate favorevole,
Et fortunati siano voti del[la] mia dolce Mellida, Mellida.

Mel. Alas, Antonio, I have lost thy note!
A number mount my stairs; I’ll straight return.

Feli. Antonio, 194
Be not affright, sweet Prince; appease thy fear,
Buckle thy spirits up, put all thy wits
In wimble [131] action, or thou art surprised.

Ant. Both, both, all, all: I prithee let me lie; 200
Spite of you all, I can, and I will die.

Ant. Each man take[s] hence life, but no man death:
He’s a good fellow, and keeps open house:
A thousand thousand ways lead to his gate,
To his wide-mouthèd porch, when niggard life
Hath [132] but one little, little wicket through.
We wring ourselves into this wretched world,
To pule, and weep, exclaim, to curse and rail,
To fret, and ban the fates, to strike the earth, 210
As I do now. Antonio, curse thy birth,
And die!

Feli. Nay, heaven’s my comfort, now you are perverse:
You know I always loved you; prithee live.
Wilt thou strike dead thy friends, draw mourning tears?

Ant. Alas, Feliche, I ha’ ne’er a friend;
No country, father, brother, kinsman left
To weep my fate or sigh my funeral:
I roll but up and down, and fill a seat
In the dark cave of dusky misery. 220

Feli. ’Fore heaven, the Duke comes! hold you, take my key,
Slink to my chamber; look you, that is it:
There shall you find a suit I wore at sea;
Take it, and slip away. Nay, ’precious!
If you’ll be peevish, by this light, I’ll swear
Thou rail’dst upon thy love before thou diedst,
And call’d her strumpet.

Feli. Tut, that’s all one: I will defame thy love,
And make thy dead trunk held in vile regard.

Ant. Wilt needs have it so? why then, Antonio, 230
Vive esperanza in dispetto del fato.

Enter Piero, Galeatzo, Matzagente, Forobosco, Balurdo, and Castilio, with weapons.

Pier. O, my sweet princes, was’t not bravely found?
Even there I found the note, even there it lay:
I kiss the place for joy, that there it lay.
This way he went, here let us make a stand:
I’ll keep this gate myself. O gallant youth!
I’ll drink carouse unto your country’s health
Even in Antonio’s skull.

Bal. Lord bless us, his breath is more fearful than a sergeant’s voice when he cries, I arrest. 240

Pier. Hold, there’s my signet, take a gundelet:
Bring me his head, his head, and, by mine honour,
I’ll make thee the wealthiest mariner that breathes.

Pier. Spoke [133] heartily, i’faith, good mariner.
O, we will mount in triumph; soon at night,
I’ll set his head up. Let’s think where. 250

Bal. Upon his shoulders, that’s the fittest place for it.
If it be not as fit as if it were made for them, say,—
Balurdo, thou art a sot, an ass.

Pier. Sprightly, i’faith. In troth he’s somewhat like
My daughter Mellida: but, alas! poor soul,
Her honour’s [134] heels, God knows, are[n’t] half so light.

Cast. ’Faith, sir, I have the richest tobacco in the court for you; I would be glad to make you satisfaction, if I have wronged you. I would not the sun should set upon your anger; give me your hand.

Feli. Content, faith; so thou’lt breed no more such lies.
I hate not man, but man’s lewd qualities.

[112] So the old eds., but I suspect that the true reading is “traverse light,” i.e., light cast slant-wise.

[113] Wanton excesses.

[114] See note 2, p. 13.

[115] “Passing passing good.”—So ed. 1602.—Ed. 1633, “passing good.”

[116] Fiddle-string.—Here applied to Castilio’s squeaky voice.

[117] Old eds. “most loved.”

[118] So ed. 1602.—Ed. 1633 “courted.”—Dilke gives “accosted"; but Spenser has the word accourt in Book II. of the Faerie Queene.

[119] Old eds. “then.”

[120] Plot of the play.

[121] There is no meaning in the word “loof:” perhaps we should read “one touch more.” Balurdo seems to be beautifying some part of his person; but his movements are not quite clear.

[122] “God’s neaks”—a meaningless oath constantly used by Marston.

[123] A corruption of christened.

[124] Snarl, grin.—The word is still used in the north country.

[125] Equal.

[126] The words “But by the help ... as red,” are given to Flavia in the old eds.

[127] Ed. 1633 gives this speech to Balurdo.

[128] I.e., put the glass out of sight.

[129] Neigh.—Cf. Fletcher’s Women Pleased, iv. 1:—

“This beast of Babylon I will never back again;
His pace is sure prophane, and his lewd wi-hies
The Songs of Hymyn and Gymyn in the wilderness.”

So Ben Jonson in Every Man out of his Humour, ii. 1:—“So the legerity for that, and the whig-hie and the daggers in the nose.”

[130] “Gundolet”—old form of gondola.

[131] Nimble.—The word is used by Spenser.

[132] Should we not rather read “Hath but one little wicket thorough which”?

[133] Old eds. “Speake.”

[134] Ed. 1. “honour.”

[135] Old eds. “chy condura sorta.”

ACT IV.

Ant. Stop, stop Antonio, stay Antonio!
Vain breath, vain breath, Antonio’s lost;
He cannot find himself, not seize himself.
Alas, this that you see is not Antonio;
His spirit hovers in Piero’s court,
Hurling about his agile faculties,
To apprehend the sight of Mellida:
But poor, poor soul, wanting apt instruments
To speak or see, stands dumb and blind, sad spirit,
Roll’d up in gloomy clouds as black as air 10
Through which the rusty coach of Night is drawn.
’Tis so; I’ll give you instance that ’tis so.
Conceit you me: as having clasp’d a rose [136]
Within my palm, the rose being ta’en away,
My hand retains a little breath of sweet:
So may man’s trunk, his spirit slipp’d away,
Hold [137] still a faint perfume of his sweet guest.
’Tis so; for when discursive powers fly out,
And roam in progress through the bounds of heaven,
The soul itself gallops along with them, 20
As chieftain of this wingèd troop of thought,
Whilst the dull lodge of spirit standeth waste,
Until the soul return from——. What was’t I said?
O, this is naught but speckling melancholy.
I have been—
That Morpheus’ tender skinp [138] —Cousin german
Bear with me, good—
Mellida: clod upon clod thus fall.
Hell is beneath, yet heaven is over all.

And. Come, Lucio, let’s go eat: what hast thou got? 30
Roots, roots? alas, they are seeded, new cut up.
O, thou hast wrongèd Nature, Lucio:
But boots not much; thou but pursu’st the world,
That cuts off virtue, ’fore it comes to growth,
Lest it should seed, and so o’errun her son,
Dull purblind error.—Give me water, boy.
There is no poison in’t, I hope; they say
That lu[r]ks in massy plate: and yet the earth
Is so infected with a general plague,
That he’s most wise, that thinks there’s no man fool; 40
Right prudent, that esteems no creature just;
Great policy the least things to mistrust.
Give me assay [140] ——. How we mock greatness now!

Lu. A strong conceit is rich, so most men deem;
If not to be, ’tis comfort yet to seem.

And. Name not the Genoways: that very word
Unkings me quite, makes me vile passion’s slave.
O, you that slide [141] upon the glibbery ice 70
Of vulgar favour, view Andrugio.
Was never prince with more applause confirm’d,
With louder shouts of triumph launchèd out
Into the surgy main of government;
Was never prince with more despite cast out,
Left shipwrack’d, banish’d, on more guiltless ground.
O rotten props of the crazed multitude,
How you still double, falter under the lightest chance
That strains your veins! Alas, one battle lost,
Your whorish love, your drunken healths, your houts [142] and shouts, 80
Your smooth God save’s, and all your devils lost [143]
That tempts our quiet to your hell of throngs!
Spit on me, Lucio, for I am turnèd slave:
Observe how passion domineers o’er me.

And. Ay, Lucio, having lost a son, a son,
A country, house, crown, son. O lares, miseri[144] lares!
Which shall I first deplore? My son, my son,
My dear sweet boy, my dear Antonio! 90

Ant. I were not worthy of Andrugio’s blood,
If I denied my name’s Antonio.

And. I were not worthy to be call’d thy father,
If I denied my name Andrugio.
And dost thou live? O, let me kiss thy cheek,
And dew thy brow with trickling drops of joy.
Now heaven’s will be done: for I have lived
To see my joy, my son Antonio.
Give me thy hand; now fortune do thy worst,
His blood, that lapp’d thy spirit in the womb, 110
Thus (in his love) will make his arms thy tomb.

Ant. Bless not the body with your twining arms,
Which is accurs’d of heaven. O, what black sin
Hath been committed by our ancient house,
Whose scalding vengeance lights upon our heads,
That thus the world and fortune casts us out,
As loathèd objects, ruin’s branded slaves!

And. Do not expostulate the heavens’ will,
But, O, remember to forget thyself;
Forget remembrance what thou once hast been. 120
Come, creep with me from out this open air:
Even trees have tongues, and will betray our life.
I am a-raising of our house, my boy,
Which fortune will not envy, ’tis so mean,
And like the world (all dirt): there shalt thou rip
The inwards of thy fortunes in mine ears,
While I sit weeping, blind with passion’s tears.
Then I’ll begin, and we’ll such order keep,
That one shall still tell griefs, the other weep.

Ant. I’ll follow you. Boy, prithee stay a little. 130
Thou hast had a good voice, if this cold marsh
Wherein we lurk have not corrupted it.

I prithee sing, but, sirra, (mark you me)
Let each note breathe the heart of passion,
The sad extracture of extremest grief.
Make me a strain speak groaning like a bell
That tolls departing souls;
Breathe me a point that may enforce me weep,
To wring my hands, to break my cursèd breast,
Rave, and exclaim, lie grovelling on the earth, 140
Straight start up frantic, crying, Mellida!
Sing but, Antonio hath lost Mellida,
And thou shalt see me (like a man possess’d)
Howl out such passion, that even this brinish marsh
Will squeeze out tears from out his spongy cheeks:
The rocks even groan, and——prithee, prithee sing,
Or I shall ne’er ha’ done when I am in;
’Tis harder for me end, than to begin.

For look thee, boy, my grief that hath no end, 149
I may begin to plain, but——prithee, sing.

Ant. Wherefore? Art thou infected with misery,
Sear’d with the anguish of calamity?
Art thou true sorrow, hearty grief? canst weep?
I am not for thee if thou canst not rave,

Fall flat on the ground, and thus exclaim on heaven:
O trifling nature, why inspired’st thou breath?

Ant. Then hast thou seen the glory of her sex,
The music of Nature, the unequall’d lustre
Of unmatch’d excellence, the united sweet
Of heaven’s graces, the most adorèd beauty,
That ever strook amazement in the world!

Mel. She’ll not requite it: all her love is fix’d 170
Upon a gallant, one [146] Antonio,
The Duke of Genoa’s son. I was her page,
And often as I waited, she would sigh,
O, dear Antonio! and to strengthen thought,
Would clip my neck, and kiss, and kiss me thus.
Therefore leave loving her: fa, faith methinks
Her beauty is not half so ravishing
As you discourse of; she hath a freckled face,
A low forehead, and a lumpish eye. 179

Ant. Dammi un bacio da quella bocca beata,
Lasciami[150] coglier l’aura odorata
Che ha[151] sua seggia in quelle dolci labbra.

Mel. Dammi per impero del tuo gradit’amore
Che bea me con sempiterno honore,
Così, così mi converrà morir.
Good sweet, scout o’er the marsh, for my heart trembles 200
At every little breath that strikes my ear.
When thou returnest, then I will discourse
How I deceiv’d the court; then thou shalt tell
How thou escaped’st the watch: we’ll point our speech
With amorous kissing [152] commas, and even suck
The liquid breath from out each other’s lips.

Ant. Dull clod, no man but such sweet favour clips.
I go, and yet my panting blood persuades me stay.
Turn coward in her sight? away, away! 209

[Page.] I think confusion of Babel is fall’n upon those lovers, that they change their language; but I fear me, my master having but feigned the person of a woman, hath got their unfeigned imperfection, and is grown double tongued: as for Mellida, she were no woman, if she could not yield strange language. But howsoever, if I should sit in judgment, ’tis an error easier to be pardoned by the auditors, than excused by the authors; and yet some private respect may rebate the edge of the keener censure.

Enter Piero, Castilio, Matzagente, Forobosco, Feliche, Galeatzo, at one door; Balurdo, and his Page, at another door.

Pier. This way she took: search, my sweet gentlemen.
How now, Balurdo, canst thou meet with anybody? 221

Bal. As I am true gentleman, I made my horse sweat, that he hath ne’er a dry thread on him: and I can meet with no living creature, but men and beasts. In good sadness,[153] I would have sworn I had seen Mellida even now; for I saw a thing stir under a hedge, and I peep’d, and I spied a thing, and I peer’d, and I tweer’d [154] underneath: and truly a right wise man might have been deceived, for it was——.

Bal. God’s neaks, proud elf, give the Duke reverence!
Stand bare with a——.
Whogh! heavens bless me! Mellida, Mellida!

Pier. Light and unduteous! kneel not, peevish elf;
Speak not, entreat not, shame unto my house,
Curse to my honour. Where’s Antonio?
Thou traitress to my hate, what, is he shipp’d
For England now? well, whimpering harlot, hence!

Pier. Good me no goods. Seest thou that sprightly youth?
Ere thou canst term to-morrow morning old,
Thou shalt call him thy husband, lord, and love.

Pier. Blirt on your “ay me’s!” guard her safely hence.
Drag her away, I’ll be your guard to-night.
Young prince, mount up your spirits and prepare
To solemnise your nuptial’s eve with pomp.

Gal. The time is scant: now nimble wits appear:
Phœbus begins to [156] gleam, the welkin’s clear.

Bal. Now nimble wits appear! I’ll myself appear,
Balurdo’s self, that in quick wit doth surpass,
Will show the substance of a complete——.

Bal. I’ll speak pure rhyme, and will so bravely prank it, that I’ll toss love like a—prank, prank it!—a rhyme for prank it?