The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (5 of 10), by Francis Beaumont, John Fletcher.

1 Out-l. Wherefore this halter Captain?

Rod. For this traytor.
Go, put it on him, and then tie him up.

1. Do you want a Band Sir? this is a course wearing,
'Twill fit but scurvily upon this collar;
But patience is as good as a French Pickadel.

Lop. What's his fault, Captain?

Rod. 'Tis my will he perish,
And that's his fault.

Ped. A Captain of good government.
Come Souldiers, come, ye are roughly bred, and bloody,
Shew your obedience, and the joy ye take
In executing impious commands;
Ye have a Captain seals your liberal pardons,
Be no more Christians, put religion by,
'Twill make ye cowards: feel no tenderness,
Nor let a thing call'd conscience trouble ye;
Alas, 'twill breed delay. Bear no respect
To what I seem; were I a Saint indeed,
Why should that stagger ye? you know not holiness:
To be excellent in evil, is your goodness;
And be so, 'twill become ye: have no hearts,
For fear you should repent: that will be dangerous:
For if there be a knocking there, a pricking,
And that pulse beat back to your considerations,
How ye have laid a stiff hand on Religion—

Rod. Truss him I say.

Ped. And violated faith.

Rod. Hear him not prate.

Ped. Why, what a thing will this be?
What strange confusion then will breed among ye?

Rod. Will none of ye obey?

Ped. What Devils vex ye?
The fears ye live in and the hourly dangers
Will be delights to these: those have their ends,
But these outlive all time, and all repentance:
And if it creep into your conscience once,
Be sure ye lock that close.

Rod. Why stand ye gazing?

Ped. Farewel sleep, peace, all that are humane comforts,
Better ye had been Trees, or Stones, and happier;
For those die here, and seek no further being,
Nor hopes, nor punishments.

Rod. Rots take ye, Rascals.

Jaq. What would you have us do?

Rod. Dispatch the prater.

Jaq. And have religious blood hang on our consciences?
We are bad enough already: sins enough
To make our graves even loath us.

Rod. No man love me?

Lop. Although I be a thief, I am no hangman;
They are two mens trades, and let another execute.
Lay violent hands on holy things?

Rod. Base Cowards,
Put to your powers, ye rascals, I command ye.
Holy, or unholy, if I say it,
I'le have it done.

1 Out-l. If I do't, let me starve for't.

2. Or I.

3. Or I: we will obey things handsom,
And bad enough, and overdo obedience:
But to be made such instruments of mischief.

Jaq. I have done as many villanies as another,
And with as little reluctation,
Let me come clear of these, and wipe that score off.
Put me upon a felt and known perdition?

Rod. Have ye conspir'd, ye slaves?

Ped. How vilely this shows,
In one that would command anothers temper,
And bear no bound in's own?

Rod. Am I thus jaded?

Ped. Is it my life thou long'st for Roderigo?
And can no sacrifice appease thy malice,
But my blood spilt? do it thy self, dispatch it;
And as thou takst the whole revenge unto thee,
Take the whole sin upon thee; and be mighty,
Mighty in evil, as thou art in anger:
And let not these poor wretches houl for thy sake.
Those things that in thine own glass seem most monstrous,
Wouldst thou abuse their weak sights with, for amiable?
Is it, thou thinkst to fear me with thy terrors,
And into weak condition draw my vertue?
If I were now to learn to die I would sue thee:
Or did I fear death, then I would make thee glorious.
But knowing what, and how far I can suffer;
And all my whole life being but deaths preface,
My sleep but at next door.

Rod. Are ye so valiant?
I'le make ye feel: I'le make ye know, and feel too;
And Rascals, you shall tremble. Keep him here,
And keep him safe too: if he scape your guards—

Ped. Fear not, I will not.

Rod. As I live, ye die for't;
I will not be thus baffled. [Exit.

Ja. What a Devil have ye done, Pilgrim? or what mischief
Have you conspir'd, that he should rage and rave thus?
Have you kill'd his Father, or his Mother? or strangled any of his kindred?

Lop. Has he no Sisters? have you not been bouncing
About their belly-pieces?

Jaq. Why should that be dangerous,
Or any way deserve death? is it not natural?
Bar us the Christian liberty of women,
And build us up with brick, take away our free-stone.

1 Out-l. Because thou art holier than he, upon my conscience
He does not envy thee: that's not his quarrel;
For, look you, that might be compounded without prayers.

Lop. Nor that thou seemst an honester man: for here
We have no trading with such Tinsel-stuff;
To be an excellent thief, is all we aim at.
Wilt thou take a spit and stride, and see if thou canst outrun us?

Ped. I scorn to shift his fury, keep your obedience;
For though your government admit no president,
Keep your selves carefull in't.

Jaq. Thou wilt be hang'd then.

Ped. I cannot die with fewer faults upon me.

2 Out-l. 'Tis ten to one he will shoot him: for the Devil's in him
If he hang him himself.

Lop. He has too proud a nature:
He will compel some one.

Jaq. I am confident.

Lop. And so are all I think.

Ped. Be not molested,
If I must die, let it not trouble you;
It stirs not me: it is the end I was born for.
Only this honest office I desire ye,
(If there be courtesie in men of your breed)
To see me buried; not to let his fury
Expose my body to the open violence
Of beasts, and fowls: so far I urge humanity.

Jaq. He shall not deny us that: we'l see ye under ground,
And give ye a volly of as good cups of Sack,
For that's our Discipline.

Lop. He comes again,
As high in rage as ever; the boy with him.

1 Out-l. Will he compel the child?

Lop. He is bent to do it,
And must have some body.

Rod. If thou lov'st me do it:
Love me, or love me not, I say thou shalt do it:
Stare not, nor stagger, Sirrah; if ye deny me,
Do you see this Rogue?

Alin. What would ye have me do Sir?
Heavens goodness bless me.

Rod. Do? why hang a Rascal,
That would hang me.

Alin. I am a boy, and weak, Sir.

Rod. Thou art strong enough to tie him to a Bough,
And turn him off: come, thou shalt be my Jewel,
And I'le allow thee horse, and all thy pleasures,
And twenty gallant things: I'le teach thee arms too;
Make thee mine heir.

Alin. Let me inherit death first.

Rod. Make me not angry, Sirrah.

Alin. Which is the man, Sir?
I'le pluck up the best heart I can yet.

Rod. Fear not,
It is my will: That in the Pilgrims coat there,
That Devil in the Saints skin.

Alin. Guard me goodness.

Rod. Dispatch him presently.

Ped. I wait your worst, Sir.

Jaq. Will the boy do it? is the rogue so confident?
So young, so deep in blood?

Lop. He shakes, and trembles.

Ped. Dost thou seek more coals still to sear thy conscience,
Work sacred innocence, to be a Devil?
Do't thy self for shame, thou best becom'st it.

Rod. Sirrah, I scorn my finger should be 'fil'd with thee;
And yet I'le have it done: this child shall strangle thee,
A crying Girle, if she were here, should master thee.

Alin. How should I save him? how my self from violence?

Ped. Leave your tongue-valour, and dispatch your hate, Sir;
The patience of my death, shall more torment thee,
(Thou painted honour, thou base man made backward)
Than all my life has fear'd thee.

Rod. Gag him, Sirrah.

Jaq. The Boy looks cheerfully now: sure he will do it.

Lop. He will mall him else.

Alin. Are ye prepar'd to die, Sir?

Ped. Yes boy, and ready; prethee to thy business.

Alin. Why are ye then so angry? so perplext, Sir?
Patience wins Heaven, and not the heat of passion.
Why do you rayle?

Lop. The boy's a pretty Priest.

Ped. I thank ye gentle child, you teach me truely.

Alin. You seem to fear too.

Ped. Thou seest more, than I feel, boy.

Alin. You tremble sure.

Ped. No sure boy, 'tis thy tenderness:
Prethee make haste, and let that gulph be satisfied.

Alin. Are ye so willing to go to it?

Ped. Most willing:
I would not borrow from his courtesie
One hour of life, to gain an age of glory.

Alin. And is your reckoning straight Sir?

Ped. As straight as truth, boy:
I cannot go more joyfully to a wedding.

Alin. Then to your prayers: I'le dispatch ye presently.
Now guide my tongue, thou blessedness.

Rod. A good boy.

Alin. But hark ye Sir, one word; and pray ye resolve me.
Let me speak privately.

Rod. What wouldst thou have child?

Alin. Shall this man die?

Rod. Why dost thou make that question?

Alin. Pray ye be not angry: if he must, I'le do it.
But must he now?

Rod. What else? who dare reprieve him?

Alin. Pray ye think again; and as your injuries
Are great, and full, you suffer from this fellow,
Do not ye purpose so to suit your vengeance?

Rod. I do, and must.

Alin. You cannot if he die now.

Rod. Cannot?

Alin. No, cannot: be not vext, you'l find it:
I have considered, and I know it certain,
Ye suffer below him: lose all your angers.

Rod. Why, my best boy?

Alin. I love, and tender ye,
I would not tell ye else. Is that revenge,
To slight your cause, and Saint your enemy,
Clap the Doves wings of downy peace unto him,
And let him soar to Heaven, whilst you are sighing?
Is this revenge?

Rod. I would have him die.

Alin. Prepar'd thus?
The blessing of a Father never reach'd it:
His contemplation now scorns ye, contemns ye,
And all the tortures ye can use. Let him die thus;
And these that know and love revenge will laugh at ye:
Here lies the honour of a well-bred anger,
To make his enemy shake and tremble under him;
Doubt, nay, almost despair, and then confound him.
This man ye rock asleep, and all your rages
Are Requiems to his parting soul, meer Anthems.

Rod. Indeed he is strongly built.

Alin. You cannot shake him;
And the more weight ye put on his foundation,
Now as he stands, ye fix him still the stronger;
If ye love him, honour him, would heap upon him
Friendships and benefits beyond example,
Hope him a Star in Heaven, and there would stick him,
Now take his life.

Rod. I had rather take mine own, Boy.

Alin. I'le ease him presently.

Rod. Stay, be not hasty.

Alin. Bless my tongue still.

Lop. What has the boy done to him?
How dull, and still he looks!

Alin. You are a wise man,
And long have buckled with the worlds extremities,
A valiant man, and no doubt know both fortunes,
And would ye work your Master-piece thus madly,
Take the bare name of honour, that will pity ye
When the world knows ye have prey'd on a poor Pilgrim?

Rod. The boy has stagger'd me: what would'st thou have me?

Ali. Have ye? do you not feel Sir? do's it not stir ye?
Do you ask a child? I would have ye do most bravely,
Because I most affect ye: like your self Sir,
Scorn him, and let him go; seem to contemn him,
And now ye have made him shake, seal him his pardon,
When he appears a subject fit for anger,
And fit for you, his pious Armour off,
His hopes no higher than your sword may reach at,
Then strike, and then ye know revenge; then take it.
I hope I have turn'd his mind.

Rod. Let the fool go there,
I scorn to let loose so base an anger
May light on thee: See me no more, but quit me;
And when we meet again.

Ped. I'le thank ye Captain. [Exit.

Alin. Why this was like your self: but which way goes he?
Shall we ne're happy meet?

Rod. I am drowsie: Boy,
Go with me, and discourse: I like thy company
O Child! I love thy tongue.

Alin. I shall wait on ye. [Exit.

Lop. The Boy has don't: a Plaguey witty Rascal.
And I shall love him terribly.

Jaq. 'Twas he most certain,
For if ye mark, how earnest he was with him,
And how he labour'd him.

Lop. A cunning villain,
But a good rogue; 'This boy will make's all honest.

1 Out-l. I scarce believe that: but I like the boy well.
Come let's to Supper; then upon our watches.

Lop. This Pilgrim scap'd a joyfull one.

Jaq. Let's drink round
To the boys health, and then about our business.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Rod. None of you know her?

Jaq. Alas Sir, we never saw her:
Nor ever heard of her, but from your report.

Rod. No happy eye?

Lop. I do not think 'tis she, Sir,
Me thinks a woman dares not.

Rod. Thou speak'st poorly,
What dares not woman, when she is provok'd?
Or what seems dangerous to Love, or fury?
That it is she, this has confirm'd me certain,
These Jewels here, a part of which I sent her,
And though unwilling, yet her Father wrought her
To take, and wear.

Lop. A wench, and we not know it?
And among us? where were our understandings?
I could have ghess'd unhappily: have had some feeling
In such a matter: Here are as pretty fellows,
At the discovery of such a Jigambob:
A handsome wench too! sure we have lost our faculties,
We have no motions: what should she do here, Sir?

Rod. That's it that troubles me: O that base rascal!
There lies the misery: how cunningly she quit him,
And how she urg'd! had ye been constant to me,
I ne're had suffer'd this.

1 Out-l. Ye might have hang'd him:
And would he had been hang'd, that's all we care for't:
So our hands had not don't.

Rod. She is gone again too,
And what care have ye for that? gone, and contemn'd me;
Master'd my will, and power, and now laughs at me.

Lop. The Devil that brought her hither, Sir I think
Has carryed her back again invisible,
For we ne're knew, nor heard of her departure.

Jaq. No living thing came this night through our watches.
She went with you.

Rod. Was by me till I slept,
But when I wak'd, and call'd: O my dull pate here,
If I had open'd this when it was given me,
This Roguy Box.

Lop. We could but give it ye.

Rod. Pilgrim? a Pox o' Pilgrims, there the game goes,
There's all my fortune fled; I know it, I feel it.

Al. Bring me unto thy Captain: where's thy Captain?
I am founder'd, melted, some fairy thing or other
Has led me dancing; the Devil has haunted me
I'th' likeness of a voyce: give me thy Captain.

2 Out-l. He's here Sir, there he stands.

Al. How do'st thou Captain?
I have been fool'd and jaded, made a dog-bolt.
My Daughter's run away: I have been haunted too,
I have lost my horse; I am hungry, and out of my wits also.

Rod. Come in: I'le tell you what I know: strange things.
And take your ease; I'le follow her recovery,
These shall be yours the whil'st, and do ye service.

Al. Let me have drink enough: I am almost choak'd too.

Rod. You shall have any thing; what think you now, Souldiers?

Jaq. I think a woman, is a woman, that's any thing.
The next we take, we'l search a little nearer,
We'l not be boyed again with a pair of breeches. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Jul. He's gone in here: This is Roderigo's quarter,
And I'le be with him soon: I'le startle him,
A little better than I have done: all this long night
I have le[d] him out o'th' way, to try his patience,
And made him swear, and curse; and pray, and swear again,
And cry for anger; I made him leave his horse too,
Where he can never find him more; whistled to him,
And then he would run through thick and thin, to reach me,
And down in this ditch; up again, and shake him,
And swear some certain blessings: then into that bush
Pop goes his pate, and all his face is comb'd over,
And I sit laughing: a hundred tricks, I have serv'd him:
And I will double 'em, before I leave him;
I'le teach his anger to dispute with women.
But all this time, I cannot meet my Mistress,
I cannot come to comfort her; that grieves me,
For sure she is much afflicted: till I do,
I'le haunt thy Ghost Alphonso; I'le keep thee waking,
Yes, I must get a Drum: I am villanous weary,
And yet I'le trot about these villages
Till I have got my will, and then have at ye.
I'le make your anger drop out at your elbows e're I leave ye. [Exit.

SCENE III.

Seb. 'Tis strange, in all the circuit we have ridden,
We cannot cross her: no way light upon her.

Cur. I do not think she is gone thus far, or this way,
For certain if she had, we should have reach'd her,
Made some discovery, heard some news; we have seen nothing.

Seb. Nor pass by any body that could promise any thing.
She is certainly disguis'd, her modesty
Durst never venture else.

Cur. Let her take any shape,
And let me see it once, I can distinguish it.

Seb. So should I think too: has not her Father found her?

Cur. No, I'le be hang'd then; he has no patience
Unless she light in's teeth, to look about him.
He guesses now, and chafes and frets like Tinsel.

Seb. Let him go on, he cannot live without it.
But keep her from him, heaven: where are we Curio?

Cur. In a wood I think, hang me if I know else.
And yet I have ridden all these coasts, at all hours,
And had an aim.

Seb. I would we had a guide.

Cur. And if I be not much awry Seberto,
Not far off should be Roderigo's quarter,
For in this fastness if I be not cozen'd,
He and his out-laws live.

Seb. This is the place then

We appointed him to meet in.

Cur. Yes, I think so.

Seb. Would we could meet some living thing: what's that there?

Cur. A boy, I think, stay; why may not he direct us?

Alin. I am hungry, and I am weary, and I cannot find him.
Keep my wits Heaven, I feel 'em wavering,
O God my head.

Seb. Boy, dost thou hear, thou stripling?

Alin. Now they will tear me, torture me, now Roderigo
Will hang [him] without mercy; ha?

Cur. Come hither.
A very pretty boy: what place is this, child?
And whither dost thou travel? how he stares!
Some stubborn Master has abus'd the boy,
And beaten him: how he complains! whither goest thou?

Alin. I go to Segovia Sir, to my sick Mother,
I have been taken here by drunken thieves,
And (O my bones!) I have been beaten Sir.
Mis-us'd, and rob'd: extreamly beaten Gentlemen,
O God, my side!

Seb. What beasts would use a boy thus?
Look up, and be of good cheer.

Alin. O, I cannot.
My back, my back, my back.

Cur. What thieves?

Alin. I know not.
But they call the Captain Roderigo.

Cur. Look ye,
I knew we were thereabouts.

Seb. Do'st thou want any thing?

Alin. Nothing but ease, but ease, Sir.

Cur. There's some mony,
And get thee to thy Mother.

Alin. I thank ye Gentlemen.

Seb. This was extreamly foul, to vex a child thus.
Come, let's along, we cannot lose our way now. [Ex.

Alin. Though ye are honest men, I fear your fingers,
And glad I am got off; O how I tremble!
Send me but once within his arms dear fortune,
And then come all the world: what shall I do now?
'Tis almost night again, and where to lodge me,

Or get me meat, or any thing, I [k]now not.
These wild woods, and the fancies I have in me,
Will run me mad.

Jul. Boy, Boy.

Alin. More set to take me?

Jul. Do'st thou hear boy? thou pointer.

Alin. 'Tis a boy too,
A Lacky Boy: I need not fear his fierceness.

Jul. Canst thou beat a Drum?

Alin. A Drum?

Jul. This thing, a Drum here.
Didst thou never see a Drum? Canst thou make this grumble?

Alin. Julettas face, and tongue; is she run mad too?
Here may be double craft: I have no skill in't.

Jul. I'le give thee a royal but to go along with me.

Alin. I care not for thy royal, I have other business,
Drum to thy self, and daunce to it.

Jul. Sirrah, Sirrah.
Thou scurvy Sirrah; thou snotty-nos'd scab, do'st thou hear me?
If I lay down my Drum.

Alin. Here comes more Company,
I fear a plot, Heaven send me fairly from it. [Exit.

Jul. Basto; who's here?

Lop. Captain, do you need me farther?

Rod. No not a foot: give me the gown: the sword now.

Jul. This is the Devil thief, and if he take me,
Woe be to my Gally gaskins.

Lop. Certain Sir,
She will take her patches off, and change her habit.

Rod. Let her do what she please: No, no Alinda
You cannot cozen me again in a Boys figure,
Nor hide the beauty of that face in patches,
But I shall know it.

Jul. A boy his face in patches?

Rod. Nor shall your tongue again bewitch mine anger,
If she be found i'th' woods, send me word presently,
And I'le return; she cannot be far gone yet:
If she be not, expect me, when ye see me;
Use all your service to my friend Alphonso,
And have a care to your business: farewel,
No more, farewel. [Exeunt.

Jul. I am heartily glad thou art gone yet.
This boy in patches, was the boy came by me,
The very same, how hastily it shifted!
What a mop-eyed ass was I, I could not know her,
This must be she, this is she, now I remember her,
How loth she was to talk too, how she fear'd me:
I could now piss mine eyes out for meer anger:
I'le follow her, but who shall vex her Father then?
One flurt at him, and then I am for the voyage,
If I can cross the Captain too: Come Tabor. [Exit.

SCENE IV.

Jaq. Are they all set?

1 Out-l. All, and each quarter quiet.

Jaq. Is the old man asleep?

1 Out-l. An hour agoe Sir.

Jaq. We must be very carefull in his absence,
And very watchfull.

1 Out-l. It concerns us nearly,
He will not be long from us.

Jaq. No, he cannot.

1 Out-l. A little heat of love, which he must wander out.

And then again: hark.

Ja[q]. What?

1 Out-l. 'Tis not the wind sure:
That's still and calm, no noise, nor flux of waters.

Jaq. I hear a Drum, I think.

1 Out-l. That, that;
It beats again now.

Jaq. Now it comes nearer: sure we are surprized, Sir;
Some from the Kings command: we are lost, we are dead all.

1 Out-l. Hark, hark, a charge now: my Captain has betray'd us,
And left us to this ruine, run away from us.

Lop. Another beats o' that side.

2 Out-l. Fly, flie, Jaques,
We are taken in a toyle: snapt in a pitfal;
Methinks I feel a Sword already shave me.

3 Out-l. A thousand horse and foot, a thousand pioneers,
If we get under-ground, to fetch us out again;
And every one an Axe to cut the woods down.

Lop. This is the dismalst night— [Exit.

Alp. Where's my Nag now?
And what make I here to be hang'd? What Devil
Brought me into this danger? Is there ne'er a hole,
That I may creep in deep enough, and die quickly?
Ne'r an old ditch to choke in? I shall be taken
For their Commander now, their General,
And have a commanding Gallows set up for me
As high as a May-pole; and nasty Songs made on me,
Be printed with a Pint-pot and a Dagger.
They are all kill'd by this time: Can I pray?
Let me see that first: I have too much fear to be faithful.
Where's all my State now? I must go hunt for Daughters;
Daughters, and Damsels of the Lake, damned Daughters.
A hundred Crowns for a good tod of Hay,
Or a fine hollow Tree, that would contain me;
I hear 'em coming: I feel the nooze about me.

Seb. Why do you fear, and fly? here are no Souldiers;
None from the King to vex ye.

1 Out-l. The Drum, the Drum, Sir.

Cur. I never saw such Pigeon-hearted people:
What Drum? what danger? who's that that shakes behind there?
Mercy upon me, Sir, why are ye fear'd thus?

Alp. Are we all kill'd, no mercy to be hoped for?
Am I not shot do you think?

Seb. You are strangely frighted,
Shot with a fiddle-stick: who's here to shoot ye?
A drum we saw indeed, a boy was beating it,
And hunting Squirrels by Moon-light.

Lop. Nothing else, Sir?

Cur. Not any thing: no other person stirring.

Alp. O that I had that boy: this is that Devil,
That fairy Rogue, that haunted me last night;
H'as sleeves like Dragons wings.

Seb. A little Foot-boy.

Alp. Come, let's go in, and let me get my cloaths on;
If ere I stay here more to be thus martyr'd—
Did ye not meet the wench?

Seb. No sure, we met her not.

Alp. She has been here in Boys apparel, Gentlemen,
A gallant thing, and famous for a Gentlewoman.
And all her face patcht over for discovery:
A Pilgrim too, and thereby hangs a circumstance,
That she hath plaid her master-prize, a rare one.
I came too short.

Cur. Such a young Boy we met, Sir.

Alp. In a gray Hat.

Cur. The same: his face all patcht too.

Alp. 'Twas she, a rot run with her; she, that rank she;
Walk in, I'le tell ye all, and then we'll part again,
But get some store of Wine: this fright sits here yet. [Ex.