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

Malf. Your cousin, and my true friend, lusty Leon,
Shall know how you use me.

Clar. Be more temperate,
Or I will never use, nor know you more
I'th' way of a servant: all the house takes notice
Of your ridiculous fopperie; I have no sooner
Perform'd my duties in my Ladies chamber,
And she scarce down the stairs, but you appear
Like my evil spirit to me.

Malf. Can the fish live out of the water, or the Salamander
Out of the fire? or I live warm, but in
The frying-pan of your favour?

Cla. Pray you forget
Your curious comparisons, borrowed from
The pond, and kitchin, and remember what
My Ladies pleasure is for th' entertainment
Of her noble Father.

Ma. I would learn the art of memory in your table book.

Cla. Very good sir, no more but up and ride, I apprehend
Your meaning, soft fire makes sweet mault Sir:
I'le answer you in a Proverb.

Mal. But one kiss from thy hony lip.

Cla. You fight too high, my hand is
A fair ascent from my foot, his slavering kisses
Spoil me more gloves,—enough for once, you'l surfeit
With too much grace.

Mal. Have you no imployment for me?

C[la]. Yes, yes, go send for Leon, and convey him
Into the private Arbour, from his mouth
I hear your praises with more faith.

Ma. I am gone; yet one thing e're I go, there's at the door
The rarest Fortune-teller, he hath told me
The strangest things; he knows ye are my Mistris,
And under seal deliver'd how many Children
I shall beget on you, pray you give him hearing,
He'l make it good to you.

Cla. A cunning man
Of your own making, howsoe'r I'le hear him
At your intreaty.

Mal. Now I perceive ye love me,
At my entreaty, come in friend—remember
To speak as I directed, he knows his lesson,
And the right way to please her; this it is
To have a head-piece. [Exit.

Enter Lancelot, like a Fortune-teller, with a Purse, and two Letters in it.

Cla. 'Tis said you can tell fortunes to come.

Lan. Yes Mistris and what's past;
Unglove your hand, by this straight line I see
You have lain crooked.

Cla. How? lain crooked?

Lan. Yes; and in that posture plaid at the old game,
(No body hears me, and I'le be no blab)
And at it lost your maiden-head.

Cla. A shrewd fellow;
'Tis truth, but not to be confess'd; in this
Your palmistry deceives you, something else Sir.

Lan. Ye are a great woman with your Lady, and
Acquainted with her counsels.

Cla. Still more strange.

Lan. There is a noble Knight Lisander loves her,
Whom she regards not, and the destinies
With whom I am familiar, have deliver'd
That by your means alone, he must enjoy her.
Your hand again, yes, yes; you have already
Promis'd him your assistance, and what's more,
Tasted his bounty, for which, from the skye
There are 200. crowns dropp'd in a Purse,
Look back, you'l find it true; nay, open it,
'Tis good Gold I assure you.

Cla. How, two Letters? the first indors'd to me? this to my Lady?
Subscrib'd Lisander?

Lan. And the fortune-teller, his servant Lancelot.

Cla. How had I lost my eyes,
That I could not know thee? not a word of the loss
Of my virginity.

Lan. Nor who I am.

Cla. I'le use all speedy means for your dispatch
With a welcom answer, but till you receive it,
Continue thus disguis'd, Monsieur Malfort
(You know the way to humour him) shall provide
A lodging for you, and good entertainment;
Nay, since we trade both one way, thou shalt have
Some feeling with me, take that.

Lan. Bountifull wench may'st thou ne're want imployment.

Cla. Nor such pay boy. [Exeunt.

Lid. You're welcom.

Alci. Let us do our office first,
And then make choice of a new piece of ground
To try our fortunes.

Lisa. All's fair here.

Alci. And here, their swords are equal.

Lisa. If there be any odds in mine, we will exchange.

Alci. We'l talk of that
When we are farther off, farewel.

Lisa. Farewel friend. [Ex. Lisander, and Alcidon.

Lidi. Come let us not be idle.

Cla. I will find you imployment, fear not.

Lid. You know Sir, the cause that brings [u]s hither.

Cla. There needs no more discoursing,
No time, nor place for repetition now.

Lid. Let our swords argue, and I wish Clarange,
The proud Olinda saw us.

Cla. Would she did;
What ever estimation she holds of me,
She should behold me like a man fight for her.

Lid. 'Tis nobly said; set on love; and my fortune—

Cla. The same for me, come home brave Lidian,
'Twas manly thrust, this token to the Lady,
Ye have it Sir, deliver it, take breath,
I see ye bleed apace, ye shall have fair play.

Lis. You must lye there a while, I cannot help you.

Lid. Nay, then my fortune's gone, I know I must dye:
Yet dearly will I sell my love, come on both,
And use your fortunes, I expect no favour;
Weak as I am, my confidence shall meet ye.

Cla. Yield up your cause and live.

Lid. What dost thou hold me?
A recreant, that prefers life before credit?
Though I bleed hard, my honour finds no Issue,
That's constant to my heart.

Cla. Have at your life then.

Lis. Hold, or I'le turn, and bend my sword against ye;
My cause Clarange too, view this brave Gentleman,
That yet may live to kill you, he stands nobly,
And has as great a promise of the day
As you can tye unto your self, he's ready,
His sword as sharp, view him with that remembrance,
That you deliver'd him to me Clarange:
And with those eyes, that clearness will become ye:
View him, as you reported him; survey him,
Fix on your friendship Sir, I know you are noble,
And step but inward to your old affection;
Examine but that soul grew to your bosom,
And try then if your sword will bite, it cannot,
The edge will turn again, asham'd, and blunted;
Lidian, you are the pattern of fair friendship,
Exampled for your love, and imitated,
The Temple of true hearts, stor'd with affections,
For sweetness of your spirit made a Saint,
Can you decline this nobleness to anger?
To mortal anger? 'gainst the man ye love most?
Have ye the name of vertuous, not the nature?

Lid. I will sit down.

Clar. And I'le sit by you, Lidian.

Lis. And I'le go on, can Heaven be pleas'd with these things?
To see two hearts that have been twin'd together,
Married in friendship to the world, to wonder,
Of one growth, of one nourishment, one health,
Thus mortally divorc'd for one weak woman?
Can love be pleas'd? love is a gentle spirit,
The wind that blows the April flowers, not softer;
She is drawn with doves to shew her peacefulness,
Lions and bloody Pards are Mars's servants;
Would ye serve love? do it with humbleness,
Without a noise, with still prayers, and soft murmurs;
Upon her Altars offer your obedience,
And not your brawls; she's won with tears, not terrors:
That fire ye kindle to her deity
Is only gratefull when it's blown with sighs,
And holy Incense flung with white hand-innocence;
Ye wound her now; ye are too superstitious,
No sacrifice of bloud, or death she longs for.

Lid. Came he from Heaven?

Clar. He tells us truth good Lidian.

Lisa. That part of noble love which is most sweet,
And gives eternal being to fair beauty,
Honour, you hack i' pieces with your swords,
And that ye fight to crown, ye kill, fair credit.

Clar. Thus we embrace, no more fight, but all friendship,
And where love pleases to bestow his benefits,
Let us not argue.

Lid. Nay, brave Sir, come in too;
You may love also, and may hope, if ye do,
And not rewarded for't, there is no justice;
Farewel friend, here let's part upon our pilgrimage,
It must be so, Cupid draws on our sorrows.
And where the lot lights—

Clar. I shall count it happiness,
Farewel, dear friend.

Lis. First, let's relieve the Gentleman
That lyes hurt in your cause, and bring him off,
And take some care for your hurts, then I will part too,
A third unfortunate, and willing wanderer. [Exeunt.

Oli. My fears foresaw 'twould come to this.

Cal. I would your sentence had been milder.

Olln. 'Tis past help now.

Cal. I share in your despair, and yet my hopes
Have not quite left me, since all possible means
Are practised to prevent the mischief following
Their mortal meeting, my Lord is coasted one way,
My Father, though his hurts forbad his travel,
Hath took another, my Brother in Law Beronte
A third, and every minute we must look for
The certain knowledge, which we must endure
With that calm patience heav'n shall please to lend us.

Dor. Dead both?

Clea. Such is the rumour, and 'tis general.

Olin. I hear my passing bell.

Cal. I am in a fevour.

Cle. They say their seconds too; but what they are,
Is not known yet, some worthy fellows certain.

Dor. Where had you knowledge?

Clea. Of the Country people, 'tis spoken every where.

Dor. I heard it so too;
And 'tis so common, I do half believe it,
You have lost a Brother, wench, he lov'd you well,
And might have liv'd to have done his country service,
But he is gone, thou fell'st untimely, Lidian,
But by a valiant hand, that's some small comfort,
And took him with thee too, thou lov'st brave company,
Weeping will do no good, you lost a servant,
He might have liv'd to have been your Master, Lady,
But you fear'd that.

Olin. Good Sir, be tender to me,
The news is bad enough, you need not press it,
I lov'd him well, I lov'd 'em both.

Dor. It seems so.
How many more have you to love so Lady?
They were both fools to fight for such a Fiddle;
Certain there was a dearth of noble anger,
When a slight woman was thought worth a quarrel.

Olin. Pray you think nobler.

Dor. I'le tell thee what I think, the plague, war, famine,
Nay put in dice and drunkenness (and those
You'l grant are pretty helps) kill not so many
(I mean so many noble) as your loves do,
Rather your lewdness, I crave your mercy, women,
Be not offended if I anger ye.
I am sure ye have touch'd me deep, I came to be merry,
And with my children, but to see one ruin'd
By this fell accident—are they all dead?
If they be, speak?

Clean. What news?

Ber. What, dead? ye pose me;
I understand you not.

Clea. My Brother Lidian, Clarange, and their seconds.

Ber. Here is one of 'em, and sure this Gentleman's alive.

Alci. I hope so, so is your Son, Sir, so is brave Clarange:
They fought indeed, and they were hurt sufficiently;
We were all hurt, that bred the general rumour,
But friends again all, and like friends we parted.

Clea. Heard ye of Lisander?

Ber. Yes, and miss'd him narrowly:
He was one of the combatants, fought with this Gentleman,
Second against your Brother, by his wisdom
(For certainly good fortune follows him)
All was made peace, I'le tell you the rest at dinner,
For we are hungry.

Alci. I before I eat
Must pay a vow I am sworn to; my life, Madam,
Was at Lisander's mercy, I live by it;
And for the noble favour, he desir'd me
To kiss your fair hand for him, offering
This second service as a Sacrifice
At the Altar of your vertues.

Dor. Come joy on all sides;
Heaven will not suffer honest men to perish.

Clea. Be proud of such a friend.

Dor. Forgive me, Madam,
It was a grief might have concern'd you near too.

Clea. No work of excellence but still Lisander,
Go thy waies, Worthy.

Olin. We'l be merry too,
Were I to speak again, I would be wiser.

Cal. Too much of this rare cordial makes me sick,
However I obey you.

Clarin. Now or never is an apt time to move her, Madam.

Cal. Who's that?

Clarin. Your servant, I would speak with your Ladyship.

C[al]. Why dost thou look about?

Clarin. I have private business
That none must hear but your Lisander—

Cal. Where?

Clar. Nay, is not here, but would entreat this favour,
Some of your Balsam from your own hand given,
For he is much hurt, and that he thinks would cure him.

Cal. He shall have all, my Prayers too.

Clar. But conceive me,
It must be from your self immediately,
Pity so brave a Gentleman should perish,
He is superstitious, and he holds your hand
Of infinite power; I would not urge this, Madam,
But only in a mans extreams to help him.

Cal. Let him come (good wench) 'tis that I wish, I am happy in't,
My husband his true friend, my noble father,
The fair Olinda, all desire to see him;
He shall have many hands.

Clar. That he desires not,
Nor eyes but yours, to look upon his miseries,
For then he thinks 'twould be no perfect cure, Madam,
He would come private.

Cal. How can that be here?
I shall do wrong unto all those that honour him,
Besides my credit.

Clar. Dare ye not trust a hurt man?
Not strain a courtesie to save a Gentleman?
To save his life that has sav'd all your family?
A man that comes like a poor mortifi'd Pilgrim,
Only to beg a Blessing and depart again?
He would but see you, that he thinks would cure him.
But since you find fit reasons to the contrary,
And that it cannot stand with your clear honour,
Though you best know how well he has deserv'd of ye:
I'll send him word back though I grieve to do it,
Grieve at my soul, for certainly 'twill kill him,
What your will is.

Cal. Stay, I will think upon't; where is he, Wench?

Clar. If you desire to see him,
Let not that trouble you, he shall be with you,
And in that time that no man shall suspect ye;
Your honour, Madam, is in your own free keeping;
Your care in me; in him all honesty;
If ye desire him not, let him pass by ye,
And all this business reckon but a dream.

C[a]l, Go in, and counsel me, I would fain see him,
And willingly comfort him.

Clar. 'Tis in your power;
And if you dare trust me, you shall do it safely,
Read that, and let that tell you, how he honours you.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Leon. This happy Night. [Kisses her.

Clar. Preserve this eagerness
Till we meet nearer, there is something done
Will give us opportunity.

Leon. Witty Girl, the plot?

Clar. You shall hear that at leisure,
The whole house reels with joy at the report
Of Lidians safety, and that joy encreas'd
From their affection to the brave Lisander,
In being made the happy instrument to compound
The bloudy difference.

Leon. They will hear shortly that
Will turn their mirth to mourning, he was then
The principal means to save two lives, but since
There are two faln, and by his single hand,
For which his life must answer, if the King,
Whose arm is long, can reach him.

Clar. We have now no spare time to hear stories, take this Key,
'Twill make your passage to the banquetting house
I'th' Garden free.

Leon. You will not fail to come?

Clar. For mine own sake ne'r doubt it; now for Lisander.

Dor. To bed, to bed, 'tis very late.

Clean. To bed all, I have drunk a health too much.

Dor. You'll sleep the better,
My usual physick that way.

Clean. Where's your Mistriss?

Clar. She is above, but very ill, and aguish;
The late fright of her Brother has much troubl'd her:
She would entreat to lye alone.

Clean. Her pleasure.

Dor. Commend my love to her, and my Prayers for her health,
I'll see her ere I go. [Exeunt; manet Clarinda.

Clar. All good rest to ye;
Now to my watch for Lisander, when he is furnish'd,
For mine own friend, since I stand Centinel,
I love to laugh i'th' evenings too, and may,
The priviledg of my place will warrant it. [Exit.

Lis. You have done well hitherto; where are we now?

Lanc. Not far from the house, I hear by th' Owls,
There are many of your Welch falkoners about it;
Here were a night to chuse to run away with
Another mans Wife, and do the feat.

Lis. Peace Knave,
The house is here before us, and some may hear us;
The Candles are all out.

Lanc. But one i'th' Parlour,
I see it simper hither, pray come this way.

Lis. Step to the Garden-door, and feel and't be open.

Lan. I am going, luck deliver me from the saw-pits,
Or I am buried quick; I hear a Dog,
No, 'tis a Cricket, ha? here's a Cuckold buried,
Take heed of his horns, Sir, here's the door, 'tis open.

[Clarinda at the door.

Clar. Who's there?

Lis. Friend.

Clar. Sir, Lisander?

Lis. I.

Clar. Ye are welcome, follow me, and make no noise.

Lis. Go to your horse, and keep your watch with care, Sirrah,
And be sure ye sleep not.

Lan. Send me out the Dairy-maid
To play at trump with me, and keep me waking,
My fellow horse and I must now discourse
Like two learned Almanack-Makers, of the Stars,
And tell what a plentiful year 'twill prove of Drunkards.
If I had but a pottle of Sack, like a sharp prickle,
To knock my Nose against when I am nodding,
I should sing like a Nightingale, but I must
Keep watch without it, I am apt to dance,
Good fortune guide me from the Faries Circles. [Exit.

Enter Clarinda with a Taper, and Lisander with a Pistol, two Chairs set out.

Clar. Come near, [Calista sitting behind a Curtain.
I'll leave ye now, draw but that Curtain,
And have your wish; now, Leon, I am for thee;
We that are servants must make use of stoln hours,
And be glad of snatch'd occasions. [Exit.

Lis. She is asleep,
Fierce Love hath clos'd his lights, I may look on her,
Within her eyes 'has lockt the graces up,
I may behold and live; how sweet she breaths!
The orient morning breaking out in odours
Is not so full of perfumes, as her breath is;
She is the abstract of all Excellence, and scorns a Parallel.

Cal. Who's there?

Lis. Your servant, your most obedient slave (adored Lady)
That comes but to behold those eyes again,
And pay some Vows I have to sacred Beauty,
And so pass by; I am blind as ignorance,
And know not where I wander, how I live,
Till I receive from their bright influence
Light to direct me, for Devotions sake,
You are the Saint I tread these holy steps to,
And holy Saints are all relenting sweetness,
Be not enrag'd, nor be not angry with me;
The greatest attribute of Heaven is mercy;
And 'tis the Crown of Justice, and the glory
Where it may kill with right, to save with pity.

Cal. Why do you kneel? I know you come to mock me,
T'upbraid me with the benefits you have giv'n me,
Which are too many, and too mighty, Sir,
For my return; and I confess 'tis justice,
That for my cruelty you should despise me,
And I expect however you are calm now,
A foyl you strive to set your cause upon,
It will break out; Calista is unworthy,
Coy, proud, disdainful, I acknowledge all,
Colder of Comfort than the frozen North is,
And more a stranger to Lisanders worth,
His youth and faith, than it becomes her gratitude,
I blush to grant it, yet take this along,
A soveraign medicine to allay displeasure,
May be an argument to bring me off too;
She is married, and she is chaste; how sweet that sounds!
How it perfumes all air 'tis spoken in!
O dear Lisander! would you break this union?

Lis. No, I adore it; let me kiss your hand,
And seal the fair faith of a Gentleman on it.

Cal. You are truly valiant, would it not afflict ye
To have the horrid name of Coward touch you?
Such is the Whore to me.

Lis. I nobly thank ye;
And may I be the same when I dishonour ye;
This I may do again. [Kissing her hand.

Cal. Ye may, and worthily;
Such comforts Maids may grant with modesty,
And neither make her poor nor wrong her bounty;
Noble Lisander, how fond now am I of ye!
I heard you were hurt.

Lis. You dare not heal me, Lady?
I am hurt here; how sweetly now she blushes!
Excellent Objects kill our sight, she blinds me;
The Roses in the pride of May shew pale to her;
O Tyrant, Custom! and O Coward, Honour!
How ye compel me to put on mine own Chains!
May I not kiss ye now in superstition?
For you appear a thing that I would kneel to;
Let me err that way. [Kisses her.

Cal. Ye shall err for once, I have a kind of noble pity on you,
Among your manly sufferings, make this most,
To err no farther in desire, for then, Sir,
You add unto the gratitudes I owe you;
And after death, your dear friends soul shall bless you.

Lis. I am wondrous honest.

Cal. I dare try. [Kisses.

Lis. I have tasted a blessedness too great for dull mortality,
Once more, and let me dye.

Cal. I dare not murther,
How will maids curse me if I kill with kisses!
And young men flye th' embraces of fair Virgins?
Come, pray sit down, but let's talk temperately.

Lis. Is my dear friend abed?

Cal. Yes, and asleep;
Secure asleep, 'tis midnight too, Lisander,
Speak not so loud.

Lis. You see I am a Statue,
I could not stand else as I had eaten Ice,
Or took into my bloud a drowzie Poyson,
And Natures noblest, brightest flame burns in me;
Midnight? and I stand quietly to behold it so?
The Alarm rung, and I sleep like a Coward?
I am worn away, my faith, my dull obedience
Like Crutches, carry my decayed Body
Down to the Grave, I have no youth within me,
Yet happily you love too.

Cal. Love with honour.

Lis. Honour? what's that? 'tis but a specious title
We should not prize too high.

Cal. Dearer than life.

Lis. The value of it is as time hath made it,
And time and custome have too far insulted,
We are no gods, to be always tyed to strictness,
'Tis a presumption to shew too like 'em;
March but an hour or two under Loves Ensigns,
We have Examples of great memories—

Cal. But foul ones too, that greatness cannot cover,
That Wife that by Example sins, sins double,
And pulls the Curtain open to her shame too;
Methinks to enjoy you thus—

Lis. 'Tis no joy, Lady,
A longing Bride if she stop here, would cry,
The Bridegroom too, and with just cause curse Hymen;
But yield a little, be one hour a Woman,
(I do not speak this to compel you, Lady)
And give your Will but motion, let it stir
But in the taste of that weak fears call evil,
Try it to understand it, we'll do nothing,
You'll ne'r come to know pure good else.

Cal. Fie, Sir.

Lis. I have found a way, let's slip into this errour
As Innocents, that know not what we did;
As we were dreaming both, let us embrace;
The sin is none of ours then, but our fancies;
What have I said? what blasphemy to honour?
O my base thoughts! pray ye take this and shoot me.
My Villain thoughts! [Noise within.

Cal. I weep your miseries, and would to heaven—what noise?

Lis. It comes on louder.
Kill me, and save your self; save your fair honour,
And lay the fault on me, let my life perish,
My base lascivious life, shoot quickly, Lady.

Cal. Not for the World, retire behind the hangings,
And there stand close—my husband, close, Lisander.

Clean. Dearest, are you well?

Cal. O my sad heart, my head, my head.

Clean. Alas, poor soul! what do you do out of your bed?
You take cold, my Calista; how do ye?

Cal. Not so well, Sir, to lie by ye, my Brothers fright—

Clean. I had a frightful dream too,
A very frightful dream, my best Calista;
Methought there came a Dragon to your Chamber,
A furious Dragon (Wife) I yet shake at it;
Are all things well?

Lis. Shall I shoot him?

Cal. No, all well, Sir,
'Twas but your care of me, your loving care,
Which always watches.

Clean. And methought he came
As if he had risen thus out of his Den,
As I do from these Hangings.

Lis. Dead.

Cal. Hold, good Sir.

Clean. And forc'd ye in his arms thus.

Cal. 'Twas but fancy
That troubled ye, here's nothing to disturb me,
Good Sir, to rest again, and I am now drowzie,
And will to bed; make no noise, dear Husband,
But let me sleep; before you can call any body, I am abed.

Clean. This, and sweet rest dwell with ye. [Exit.

Cal. Come out again, and as you love, Lisander,
Make haste away, you see his mind is troubled;
Do you know the door ye came in at?

Lis. Well, sweet Lady.

Cal. And can ye hit it readily?

Lis. I warrant ye;
And must I go? Must here end all my happiness?
Here in a dream, as if it had no substance?

Cal. For this time, friend, or here begin our ruins;
We are both miserable.

Lis. This is some comfort
In my afflictions; they are so full already,
They can find no encrease.

Cal. Dear, speak no more.

Lis. You must be silent then.

Cal. Farewel, Lisander, thou joy of man, farewel.

Lis. Farewel, bright Lady,
Honour of woman-kind, a heavenly blessing.

Cal. Be ever honest.

Lis. I will be a dog else;
The vertues of your mind I'll make my Library,
In which I'll study the celestial beauty;
Your Constancy, my Armour that I'll fight in;
And on my Sword your Chastity shall sit,
Terrour to rebel bloud.

Cal. Once more, farewel; [Noise within.
O that my modesty cou'd hold you still, Sir—he comes again.

Lis. Heaven keep my hand from murther,
Murther of him I love.

Cal. Away, dear friend,
Down to the Garden stairs, that way, Lisander,
We are betray'd else.