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

Clar. Leave him to me.

Mal. She comes, my Lady.

Clar. I will satisfie her.

Mal. How far have you prevail'd?

Leon. Observe.

Clar. Monsieur Malfort,
I must be brief, my cousin hath spoke much
In your behalf, and to give you some proof,
I entertain you as my servant,
You shall have the grace.

Leon. Upon your knee receive it.

Clar. And take it as a special favour from me,
To tye my shooe.

Malf. I am o're-joy'd.

Leon. Good reason.

Clar. You may come higher in time.

Leon. No more, the Lady.

Malf. She frowns.

Clar. I thank you for this visit cousin,
But without leave hereafter from my Lady,
I dare not change discourse with you.

Malf. Pray you take your mornings draught.

Leon. I thank you: [Exeunt Leon, Malf.
Happiness attend your honour.

Calist. Who gave warrant to this private parle?

Clar. My innocence; I hope
My conference with a kinsman cannot call
Your anger on me.

Calist. Kinsman? Let me have
No more of this, as you desire you may continue mine.

Clar. Why madam (under pardon)
Suppose him otherwise: yet coming in
A lawfull way, it is excusable.

Calist. How's this?

Clar. I grant you are made of pureness,
And that your tenderness of honour holds
The soveraigntie o're your passions. Yet you have
A noble Husband, with allow'd embraces,
To quench lascivious fires, should such flame in you,
As I must ne're believe. Were I the wife
Of one that could but zanie brave Cleander,
Even in his least perfections, (excuse
My o're-bold inference) I should desire
To meet no other object.

Cal. You grow saucie. Do I look further?

Clar. No, dear Madam: and
It is my wonder or astonishment rather,
You could deny the service of Lisander;
A man without a rival: one the King
And Kingdom gazes on with admiration,
For all the excellencies a Mother could
Wish in her only Son.

Cal. Did not mine honour
And obligation to Cleander, force me
To be deaf to his complaints?

Clar. 'Tis true; but yet
Your rigor to command him from your presence,
Argu'd but small compassion; the Groves
Witness his grievous sufferings, your fair name
Upon the rinde of every gentle Poplar,
And amorous Myrtle, (trees to Venus sacred)
With adoration carv'd, and knee[l']d unto,
This you (unseen of him) both saw and heard
Without compassion, and what receiv'd he
For his true sorrows? but the heavy knowledge,
That 'twas your peremptory will and pleasure,
(How e're my Lord liv'd in him) he should quit
Your sight and house for ever.

Cal. I confess I gave him a strong potion to work
Upon his hot bloud, and I hope 'twill cure him:
Yet I could wish the cause had concern'd others,
I might have met his sorrows with more pity;
At least have lent some counsel to his miseries,
Though now for honours sake, I must forget him,
And never know the name more of Lisander:
Yet in my justice I am bound to grant him,
(Laying his love aside) most truely noble.
But mention him no more, this instant hour
My Brother Lidian, new return'd from travel,
And his brave friend Clarange, long since rivals
For fair and rich Olinda, are to hear
Her absolute determination, whom
She pleases to elect: see all things ready
To entertain 'em: and on my displeasure
No more words of Lisander.

Clar. She endures to hear him nam'd by no tongue but her own:
How e're she carries it, I know she loves him. [Exit.

Cal. Hard nature: hard condition of poor women!
That where we are most su'd to, we must flye most.
The trees grow up, and mix together freely,
The Oak's not envious of the sailing Cedar,
The lustie Vine not jealous of the Ivie
Because she clips the Elm; the flowers shoot up,
And wantonly kiss one another hourly,
This blossome glorying in the others beauty,
And yet they smell as sweet, and look as lovely:
But we are ty'd to grow alone. O honour,
Thou hard Law to our lives, chain to our freedoms
He that invented thee had many curses;
How is my soul divided! O Cleander,
My best deserving husband! O Lisander,
The truest lover that e're sacrific'd
To Cupid against Hymen! O mine honour;
A Tyrant, yet to be obey'd! and 'tis
But justice we should thy strict Laws endure,
Since our obedience to thee keeps us pure. [Exit.

Clean. How insupportable the difference
Of dear friends is, the sorrow that I feel
For my Lisanders absence, one that stamps
A reverend print on friendship, does assure me.
You are rivals for a Lady, a fair Lady,
And in the acquisition of her favours,
Hazard the cutting of that Gordian knot
From your first childhood to this present hour,
By all the tyes of love and amity fasten'd.
I am blest in a wife (Heaven make me thankfull)
Inferiour to none (sans pride I speak it)
Yet if I were a free-man, and could purchase
At any rate the certainty to enjoy
Lisanders conversation while I liv'd,
Forgive me my Calista, and the Sex,
I never would seek change.

Lid. My Lord and Brother,
I dare not blame your choice, Lisanders worth
Being a Mistris to be ever courted;
Nor shall our equal suit to fair Olinda
Weaken, but adde strength to our true affection,
With zeal so long continued.

Claran. When we know
Whom she prefers, as she can choose but one,
By our so long tri'd friendship we have vow'd
The other shall desist.

Clea. 'Tis yet your purpose,
But how this resolution will hold
In him that is refus'd, is not alone
Doubtfull, but dangerous.

Malf. The rich heir is come Sir.

Cleand. Madam Olinda?

Malf. Yes Sir, and makes choice,
After some little conference with my Lady,
Of this room to give answer to her suitors.

Cle. Already both look pale, between your hopes
To win the prize, and your despair to lose
What you contended for.

Lid. No Sir, I am arm'd.

Clar. I confident of my interest.

Cle. I'le believe ye when you have endur'd the test.

Malf. Is not your garter
Unty'd? you promis'd that I should grow higher
In doing you service.

Clar. Fall off or you lose me. [Exit Malfort.

Cle. Nay take your place, no Paris now sits judge
On the contending goddesses. You are
The Deitie that must make curst or happy
One of your languish[i]ng servants.

Ol. I thus look with equal eyes on both; either deserves
A fairer fortune than they can in reason
Hope for from me; from Lidian I expect,
When I have made him mine, all pleasures that
The sweetness of his manners, youth, and vertues
Can give assurance of: but turning this way
To brave Clarange, in his face appears
A kind of Majesty which should command,
Not sue for favour. If the fairest Lady
Of France, set forth with natures best endowments
Nay should I adde a Princess of the bloud,
Did now lay claim to either for a husband,
So vehement my affection is to both,
My envie at her happiness would kill me.

Cle. The strangest love I ever heard.

Cal. You can enjoy but one.

Clar. The more I say the merrier.

Oli. Witness these tears I love both, as I know
You burn with equal flames, and so affect me;
Abundance makes me poor; such is the hard
Condition of my fortune; be your own judges;
If I should favour both, 'twill taint my honour,
And that before my life I must prefer;
If one I lean to, the other is disvalued;
You are fierie both, and love will make you warmer.

Clar. The warmer still the fitter. You are a fool Lady.

Oli. To what may love, and the Devil jealousie spur you
Is too apparent: my name's call'd in question:
Your swords flie out, your angers range at large:
Then what a murther of my modesty follows?

Clar. Take heed of that by any means: O innocent,
That will deny a blessing when 'tis offer'd,
Would I were murther'd so, I would thank my modesty.

Cle. What pause you on?

Oli. It is at length resolv'd.

Clar. We are on the Rack, uncertain expectation
The greatest torture.

Lidi. Command what you please,
And you shall see how willingly we will execute.

Oli. Then hear what for your satisfaction,
And to preserve your friendship I resolve
Against my self, and 'tis not to be alter'd:
You are both brave gentlemen, I'le still profess it,
Both noble servants, for whose gentle offers,
The undeserving, and the poor Olinda
Is ever bound; you love both, fair, and vertuously;
Would I could be so happy to content both:
Which since I cannot, take this resolute answer;
Go from me both contentedly, and he
That last makes his return, and comes to visit,
Comes to my bed. You know my will: farewel;
My heart's too big to utter more: come friend.

Cal. I'le wait on you to your Coach.

Cle. You both look blank, I cannot blame you.

Lid. We have our dispatches.

Clara. I'le home.

Lid. And I'le abroad again, Farewel.

Clara. Farewel to ye.

Cle. Their blunted departure troubles me: I fear
A suddain and a dangerous division
Of their long love will follow: have you took
Your leave of fair Olinda?

C[al]. She is gone Sir.

Cle. Had you brought news Lisander were return'd too,
I were most happy.

Cal. Still upon Lisander?

Cle. I know he loves me, as he loves his health:
And Heaven knows I love him.

Cal. I find it so:
For me you have forgot, and what I am to you.

Cle. O think not so. If you had lost a Sister
You lock'd all your delights in, it would grieve you:
A little you would wander from the fondness
You ow'd your husband: I have lost a friend,
A noble friend, all that was excellent
In man, or man-kind, was contain'd within him,
That loss my wife—

Malf. Madam, your noble Father—
A fee for my good news.

Cal. Why? what of him Sir?

Mal. Is lighted at the door, and longs to see you.

Calist. Attend him hither.

Clean. O my dear Lisander.
But I'le be merry: let's meet him my Calista.

Cal. I hope Lisanders love will now be buried:
My Father will bring joy enough for one moneth,
To put him out of memorie.

Dor. How do you Son?
Bless my fair child, I am come to visit yee,
To see what house you keep, they say you are bountifull,
I like the noise well, and I come to trie it.
Ne're a great belly yet? how have you trifl'd?
If I had done so (Son) I should have heard on't
On both sides by Saint Denis.

Clean. You are nobly welcom Sir:
We have time enough for that.

Dorilaus. See how she blushes!
'Tis a good sign you'l mend your fault, how dost thou,
My good Calista?

Cal. Well, now I see you Sir;
I hope you bring a fruitfulness along with ye.

Dor. Good luck, I never miss, I was ever good at it:
Your mother groan'd for't wench, so did some other,
But I durst never tell.

Cal. How does your arm Sir?

Cle. Have you been let bloud of late?

Dor. Against my will Sir.

Cal. A fall dear Father?

Dor. No, a Gun, dear Daughter;
Two or three Guns; I have one here in my buttock,
'Twould trouble a Surgeons teeth to pull it out.

Cal. O me! O me!

Dor. Nay, if you fall to fainting,
'Tis time for me to trudge: art such a coward,
At the meer name of hurt to change thy colour?
I have been shot that men might see clean through me,
And yet I fainted not: besides my self,
Here are an hospital of hurt men for ye.

Clean. What should this wonder be?

Cal. I am amaz'd at it.

Doril. What think ye of these? they are every one hurt soundly,
Hurt to the proof, they are through, and through I assure ye;
And that's good game, they scorn your puling scratches.

Cal. Who did this Sir?

Dor. Leave crying, and I'le tell you,
And get your plaisters, and your warm stupes ready:
Have you ne're a Shepheard that can tarr us over?
'Twill prove a business else, we are so many.
Coming to see you, I was set upon,
I and my men, as we were singing frolickly,
Not dreaming of an ambush of base Rogues,
Set on i'th' forest, I have forgot the name—

Cle. 'Twixt this, and Fountaine-Bleau,
In the wild Forest?

Dor. The same, the same, in that accursed Forest,
Set on by villains, that make boot of all men,
The Peers of France are pillage there, they shot at us,
Hurt us, un-hors'd us, came to the sword, there pli'd us,
Opprest us with fresh multitudes, fresh shot still,
Rogues that would hang themselves for a fresh doublet,
And for a Scarlet Cassock kill their Fathers.

Cle. Lighted you among these?

Dor. Among these murtherers,
Our poor blouds were ingag'd: yet we strook bravely,
And more than once or twice we made them shun us,
And shrink their rugged heads: but we were hurt all.

Cle. How came you off? for I even long to hear that.

Dor. After our prayers made to Heaven to help us,
Or to be mercifull unto our souls;
So near we were. Alas poor wench, wipe, wipe.
See Heaven sends remedy.

Cal. I am glad 'tis come Sir,
My heart was even a bleeding in my body.

Dor. A curl'd hair Gentleman stept in, a stranger,
As he rod by, belike he heard our bickering,
Saw our distresses, drew his sword, and prov'd
He came to execute, and not to argue.
Lord what a lightning methought flew about him,
When he once toss'd his blade! in face Adonis,
While peace inhabited between his eye-brows:
But when his noble anger stirr'd his metal,
And blew his fierie parts into a flame,
Like Pallas, when she sits between two armies,
Viewing with horrid brows their sad events,
Such then he look'd: and as her shield had arm'd him.

Cal. This man Sir were a friend to give an age for.
This Gentleman I must love naturally:
Nothing can keep me off; I pray you go on Sir.

Dor. I will, for now you please me: this brave youth,
This bud of Mars, for yet he is no riper,
When once he had drawn bloud, and flesh'd his sword,
Fitted his manly metal to his spirit,
How he bestirr'd him! what a lane he made!
And through their fierie Bullets thrust securely:
The hardned villains wondring at his confidence,
Lame as I was I follow'd, and admir'd too,
And stirr'd, and laid about me with new spirit,
My men too with new hearts thrust into action,
And down the Rogues went.

Cle. I am struck with wonder.

Dor. Remember but the storie of strong Hector,
When like to lightning he broke through his vanguard,
How the Greeks frighted ran away by Troops,
And trod down Troops to save their lives: so this man
Dispers'd these slaves: had they been more and mightier,
He had come off the greater, and more wonder.

Cle. Where is the man, good Sir, that we may honour him?

Cal. That we may fall in superstition to him.

Dor. I know not that, from me he late departed,
But not without that pious care to see safe
Me, and my weak men lodg'd, and dress'd; I urg'd him
First hither, that I might more freely thank him:
He told me he had business, crav'd my pardon,
Business of much import.

Cle. Know you his name?

Dor. That he deny'd me too: a vow had bar'd him.

Cal. In that he was not noble to be nameless.

Dor. Daughter you must remember him when I am dead,
And in a noble sort requite his piety,
'Twas his desire to dedicate this service
To your fair thoughts.

Cal. He knows me then?

Dor. I nam'd you,
And nam'd you mine: I think that's all his knowledge.

Cle. No name, no being?

Cal. Now I am mad to know him:
Saving mine honour, any thing I had now
But to enjoy his sight, but his bare picture;
Make me his Saint, I must needs honour him.

Serv. I know his name.

Cal. There's thy reward for't; speak it.

Ser. His man told me, but he desir'd my silence.

Cal. O Jasper speak, 'tis thy good Masters cause too:
We all are bound in gratitude to compel thee.

Ser. Lisander? Yes, I am sure it was Lisander,

Cal. Lisander? 'twas Lisander.

Cle. 'Tis Lisander. O my base thoughts! my wicked!
To make question this act could be another mans:
'Tis Lisander, a handsome timber'd man?

Ser. Yes.

Cle. My Lisander! Was this friends absence to be mourn'd?

Cal. I grant it:
I'le mourn his going now, and mourn it seriously:
When you weep for him, Sir, I'le bear you company.
That so much honour, so much honesty
Should be in one man, to do things thus bravely,
Make me his Saint, to me give this brave service:
What may I do to recompence his goodness?
I cannot tell.

Cle. Come Sir, I know you are sickly, so are your men.

Dor. I must confess I am weak,
And fitter for a bed than long discourses.

Cle. You shall hear to morrow, to morrow provide Surgeons.

Dor. Lisander—

Cal. What new fire is this? Lisander— [Exeunt.

Lis. Prethee good Lancelot remember that
Thy Master's life is in thy trust, and therefore
Be very carefull.

Lanc. I will lose mine own, rather than hazard yours.

Lisa. Take what disguise
You in your own discretion shall think fittest,
To keep your self unknown.

Lanc. I warrant ye;
'Tis not the first time I have gone invisible:
I am as fine a Fairie in a business
Concerning night-work—

Lisa. Leave your vanities:
With this purse (which deliver'd,
You may spare your Oratory) convey this Letter to
Calista's woman.

Lanc. 'Tis a handsom girle, Mistris Clarinda.

Lisa. I have made her mine. You know your work.

Lan. And if I sweat not in it,
At my return discard me. [Exit.

Lisa. O Calista! the fairest! cruellest!

Clar. So early stirring? a good day to you.

Lisa. I was viewing Sir,
The site of your house, and the handsomness about it:
Believe me it stands healthfully and sweetly.

Clar. The house and Master of it really
Are ever at your service.

Lisa. I return it:
Now if you please go forward in your storie
Of your dear friend and Mistris.

Clar. I will tell it,
And tell it short, because 'tis breakfast time,
(And love is a tedious thing to a quick stomach)
You eat not yester-night.

Lisa. I shall endure Sir.

Clara. My self (and as I then deliver'd to you)
A Gentleman of noble hope, one Lidian,
Both brought up from our infancy together,
One company, one friendship, and one exercise
Ever affecting, one bed holding us,
One grief, and one joy parted still between us,
More than companions, twins in all our actions,
We grew up till we were men, held one heart still:
Time call'd us on to Arms, we were one Souldier,
Alike we sought our dangers and our honours,
Gloried alike one in anothers nobleness:
When Arms had made us fit, we were one lover,
We lov'd one woman, lov'd without division,
And woo'd a long time with one fair affection;
And she, as it appears, loves us alike too.
At length considering what our love must grow to,
And covet in the end, this one was parted,
Rivals and honours make men stand at distance.
We then woo'd with advantage, but were friends still,
Saluted fairly, kept the peace of love,
We could not both enjoy the Ladies favour,
Without some scandal to her reputation,
We put it to her choice, this was her sentence,
To part both from her, and the last returning
Should be her Lord; we obey'd, and now you know it;
And for my part, (so truely I am touch'd with't)
I will go far enough, and be the last too,
Or ne're return.

Lisa. A sentence of much cruelty;
But mild, compar'd with what's pronounc'd on me.
Our loving youth is born to many miseries.
What is that Lidian pray ye?

Clar. Calista's Brother, if ever you have heard of that fair Lady.

Lisa. I have seen her Sir.

Clar. Then you have seen a wonder.

Lisa. I do confess: of what years is this Lidian?

Clar. About my years: there is not much between us.

Lisa. I long to know him.

Clar. 'Tis a vertuous longing,
As many hopes hang on his noble head,
As blossoms on a bough in May, and sweet ones.

Lisa. Ye are a fair storie of your friend.

Clar. Of truth Sir: now, what's the matter?

Serv. There is a Gentleman
At door, would speak with you on private business.

Clar. With me?

Serv. He saies so, and brings haste about him.

Clar. Wait on him in. [Exit Servant.

Lisa. I will retire the while, to the next room.

Clar. We shall not long disturb you.

Alci. Save ye, Sir.

Clara. The like to you, fair Sir: pray you come near.

Alci. Pray you instruct me for I know you not.
With Monsieur Clarange I would speak.

Clar. I am he, Sir:
Ye are nobly welcome; I wait your business.

Alci. This will inform you.

Clar. Will you please to sit down? [Reads.
He shall command me Sir, I'le wait upon him
Within this hour.

Alci. Y'are a noble Gentleman,
Wil't please you bring a friend? we are two of us,
And pity either, Sir, should be unfurnish'd.

Clar. I have none now, and the time is set so short,
'Twill not be possible.

Alci. Do me the honour:
I know you are so full of brave acquaintance,
And worthy friends, you cannot want a partner:
I would be loth to stand still, Sir; besides,
You know the custom, and the vantage of it,
If you come in alone.

Clar. And I must meet it.

Alci. Send, we'l defer an hour, let us be equal:
Games won and lost on equal terms shew fairest.

Clar. 'Tis to no purpose to send any whither,
Unless men be at home by Revelation:
So please you breath a while; when I have done with him,
You may be exercis'd too: I'le trouble no man.

Lisa. They are very loud. Now what's the news?

Clar. I must leave you,
Leave you a while, two hours hence I'le return friend.

Lisa. Why, what's the matter?

Clar. A little business.

Lisa. And't be but a little, you may take me with ye.

Clar. 'Twill be a trouble to you.

Lisa. No indeed, to do you service, I account a pleasure.

Clar. I must alone.

Lisa. Why?

Clar. 'Tis necessity—
Before you pass the walks, and back again,
I will be with ye.

Lisa. If it be not unmannerly
To press you, I would go.

Clar. I'le tell you true, Sir,
This Gentleman and I upon appointment,
Are going to visit a Lady.

Lisa. I am no Capuchin, why should not I go?

Alci. Take the Gentleman,
Come he may see the Gentlewoman too,
And be most welcom, I do beseech you take him.

Lis. By any means, I love to see a Gentlewoman,
A prettie wench too.

Clar. Well, Sir, we'll meet you,
And at the place: My service to the Lady.

Alci. I kiss your hand. [Exit.

Clar. Prethee read o're her Letter.

Is this your wench? you'l find her a sharp Mistris.
What have I thrust my self into? is this that Lidian
You told me of?

Clar. The same.

Lisa. My Ladies Brother?
No cause to heave my sword against but his?
To save the Father yesterday, and this morning,
To help to kill the Son? this is most courteous!
The only way to make the Daughter doat on me.

Clar. Why do you muse? would ye go off?

Lisa. No, no, I must on now; this will be kindly taken;
No life to sacrifice, but part of hers?
Do you fight straight?

Clara. Yes, presently.

Lisan. To morrow then,
The balefull tidings of this day will break out,
And this nights Sun will set in bloud; I am troubl'd:
If I am kill'd, I am happy.

Clar. Will you go friend?

Lis. I am ready Sir, fortune thou hast made me monstrous.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.