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

Mal. To bed again, they are gone, Sir,
I will not bid you thank my valour for't;
Gone at the Garden door; there were a dozen,
And bravely arm'd, I saw 'em.

Clar. I am glad, glad at the heart.

Serv. One shot at me, and miss'd me.

Mal. No, 'twas at me, the Bullet flew close by me,
Close by my ear; another had a huge Sword,
Flourish'd it thus; but at the point I met him,
But the Rogue taking me to be your Lordship,
(As sure your Name is terrible, and we
Not much unlike in the dark) roar'd out aloud,
'Tis the kill-Crow, Dorilaus, and away
They ran as they had flown; now you must love me,
Or fear me for my Courage, Wench.

Clar. O Rogue!
O lying Rogue, Lisander stumbled, Madam,
At the Stairs-head, and in the fall the shot went off;
Was gone before they rose.

Cal. I thank Heaven for't.

Clar. I was frighted too, it spoil'd my game with Leon.

Cle. You must sit up; and they had come to your Chamber
What pranks would they have plaid! how came the door open?

Ma. I heard 'em when they forc'd it; up I rose,
Took Durindana in my hand; and like
Orlando, issu'd forth.

Clar. I know you are valiant.

Clean. To bed again,
And be you henceforth provident, at sun-rising
We must part for a while.

Dor. When you are a bed,
Take leave of her, there 'twill be worth the taking;
Here 'tis but a cold Ceremony, ere long
We'll find Lisander, or we have ill-fortune.

Clean. Lock all the doors fast.

Mal. Though they all stood open,
My name writ on the door, they dare not enter. [Exeunt.

Clar. Turn'd Hermit?

Fry. Yes, and a devout one too; I heard him preach.

Clar. That lessens my belief,
For though I grant my Lidian a Scholar,
As far as fits a Gentleman, he hath studied
Humanity, and in that he is a Master;
Civility of manners, Courtship, Arms;
But never aim'd at (as I could perceive)
The deep points of Divinity.

Fry. That confirms his
Devotion to be real, no way tainted
With ostentation, or hyp[ocr]isie,
The cankers of Religion; his Sermon
So full of gravity, and with such sweetness
Deliver'd, that it drew the admiration
Of all the hearers on him; his own Letters
To you, which witness he will leave the World,
And these to fair Olinda, his late Mistriss,
In which he hath with all the moving language
That ever express'd Rhetorick, solicited
The Lady to forget him, and make you
Blessed in her embraces, may remove
All scrupulous doubts.

Clar. It strikes a sadness in me.
I know not what to think of 't.

Fry. Ere he entred
His solitary Cell, he pen'd a Ditty,
His long, and last farewel to Love and Women,
So feelingly, that I confess however
It stands not with my order to be taken
With such poetical Raptures; I was mov'd,
And strangely with it.

Clar. Have you the Copy?

Fry. Yes, Sir;
My Novice too can sing it, if you please
To give him hearing.

Clar. And it will come timely,
For I am full of melancholy thoughts,
Against which I have heard with reason Musick
To be the speediest cure, 'pray you apply it.

Adieu fond love, farewel you wanton powers,
I am free again;
Thou dull Disease of bloud, and idle hours;
Bewitching pain,
Flye to the Fools that sigh away their time,
My nobler love to Heaven doth climb,
And there behold Beauty still young,
That Time can ne'r corrupt, nor Death destroy;
Immortal sweetness by fair Angels sung,
And honour'd by Eternity and Joy:
There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire,
Fond love declines, this heavenly [love] grows higher.

Fri. How do ye approve it?

Clar. To its due desert,
It is a Heavenly Hymn, no ditty Father,
It passes through my ears unto my soul,
And works divinely on it; give me leave
A little to consider; shall I be
Outdone in all things? nor good of my self,
Nor by example? shall my loose hope still,
The viands of a fond affection, feed me
As I were a sensual beast? spiritual food
Refus'd by my sick palat? 'tis resolv'd.
How far off Father, doth this new made Hermit
Make his abode?

Fri. Some two dayes journey Son.

Clar. Having reveal'd my fair intentions to ye,
I hope your piety will not deny me
Your aids to further 'em?

Fri. That were against a good mans charity.

Clar. My first request is,
You would some time, for reasons I will shew you,
Defer delivery of Lidians Letters
To fair Olinda.

Fri. Well Sir.

Clar. For what follows,
You shall direct me; something I will do,
A new born zeal, and friendship prompts me to. [Ex.

Clea. We have supp'd well friend; let our beds be ready,
We must be stirring early.

Cham. They are made Sir.

Dor. I cannot sleep yet, where's the jovial host
You told me of? 'thas been my custom ever
To parley with mine host.

Clea. He's a good fellow,
And such a one I know you love to laugh with;
Go call your Master up.

Cham. He cannot come Sir.

Dor. Is he a bed with his wife?

Cham. No certainly.

Dor. Or with some other guests?

Cham. Neither and't like ye.

Clea. Why then he shall come by your leave my friend,
I'le fetch him up my self.

Cham. Indeed you'l fail Sir.

Dor. Is he i'th' house?

Cham. No, but he is hard by Sir;
He is fast in's grave, he has been dead these three weeks.

Dor. Then o' my conscience he will come but lamely,
And discourse worse.

Clean. Farewel mine honest Host then,
Mine honest merry Host; will you to bed yet?

Dor. No, not this hour, I prethee sit and chat by me.

Clean. Give us a quart of wine then, we'l be merry.

Dor. A match my Son; pray let your wine be living,
Or lay it by your Master.

Cham. It shall be quick Sir. [Exit.

Dor. Has not mine Host a wife?

[Clean.] A good old woman.

Dor. Another coffin, that is not so handsom;
Your Hostesses in Innes should be blith things,
Pretty, and young to draw in passengers;
She'l never fill her beds well, if she be not beauteous.

Clean. And courteous too.

Dor. I, I, and a good fellow,
That will mistake sometimes a Gentleman
For her good man; well done; here's to Lisander.

Clean. My full love meets it; make fire in our lodgings,
We'l trouble thee no farther; to your Son. [Ex. Cham.

Dor. Put in Clarange too; off with't, I thank ye;
This wine drinks merrier still, O for mine Host now,
Were he alive again, and well dispos'd,
I would so claw his pate.

Clean. Y'are a hard drinker.

Dor. I love to make mine Host drunk, he will lye then
The rarest, and the roundest, of his friends,
His quarrels, and his guests, and they are the best bauds too,
Take 'em in that tune.

Clean. You know all.

Dor. I did Son, but time, and arms have worn me out.

Clea. 'Tis late Sir, I hear none stirring. [A lute is struck.

Dor. Hark, what's that, a Lute?
'Tis at the door I think.

Clean. The doors are shut fast.

Dor. 'Tis morning sure, the Fiddlers are got up
To fright mens sleeps, have we ne're a pispot ready?

Clean. Now I remember, I have heard mine Host that's dead
Touch a lute rarely, and as rarely sing too,
A brave still mean.

Dor. I would give a brace of French Crowns
To see him rise and Fiddle—Hark, a Song.

'Tis late and cold, stir up the fire;
Sit close, and draw the Table nigher;
Be merry, and drink wine that's old,
A hearty medicine 'gainst a cold.
Your bed of wanton down's the best,
Where you shall tumble to your rest;
I could wish you wenches too,
But I am dead and cannot do;
Call for the best the house may ring,
Sack, White, and Claret let them bring,
And drink apace while breath you have,
You'l find but cold drink in the grave;
Plover, Partridge for your dinner,
And a Capon for the sinner,
You shall find ready when you are up,
And your horse shall have his sup:
Welcom welcom shall flye round,
And I shall smile though under ground.

Clean. Now as I live, it is his voice.

Dor. He sings well, the Devil has a pleasant pipe.

Clean. The fellow lyed sure.

He is not dead, he's here: how pale he looks!

Dor. Is this he?

Clean. Yes.

Host. You are welcom noble Gentlemen,
My brave old guest most welcom.

Clean. Lying knaves,
To tell us you were dead, come sit down by us,
We thank ye for your Song.

Host. Would 't had been better.

Dor. Speak, are ye dead?

Host. Yes indeed am I Gentlemen,
I have been dead these three weeks.

Dor. Then here's to ye, to comfort your cold body.

Clean. What do ye mean? stand further off.

Dor. I will stand nearer to him,
Shall he come out on's coffin to bear us company,
And we not bid him welcom? come mine Host,
Mine honest Host, here's to ye.

Host. Spirits Sir, drink not.

Clea. Why do ye appear?

Host. To wait upon ye Gentlemen,
'Thas been my duty living, now my farewel;
I fear ye are not us'd accordingly.

Dor. I could wish you warmer company mine Host,
How ever we are us'd.

Host. Next to entreat a courtesie,
And then I go to peace.

Clea. Is't in our power?

Host. Yes and 'tis this, to see my body buried
In holy ground, for now I lye unhallowed,
By the clarks fault; let my new grave be made
Amongst good fellows, that have died before me,
And merry Hostes of my kind.

Clea. It shall be done.

Dor. And forty stoops of wine drank at thy funeral.

Clea. Do you know our travel?

Host. Yes, to seek your friends,
That in afflictions wander now.

Clean. Alas!

Host. Seek 'em no farther, but be confident
They shall return in peace.

Dor. There's comfort yet.

Clea. Pray ye one word more, is't in your power mine Host,
Answer me softly, some hours before my death,
To give me warning?

Host. I cannot tell ye truly,
But if I can, so much alive I lov'd ye,
I will appear again, adieu. [Exit.

Dor. Adieu, Sir.

Cle. I am troubl'd; these strange apparitions are
For the most part fatal.

Dor. This if told, will not
Find credit, the light breaks apace, let's lie down
And take some little rest, an hour or two,
Then do mine host's desire, and so return,
I do believe him.

Clean. So do I, to rest, Sir. [Exeunt.

Cal. Clarinda?

Clarin. Madam.

Cal. Is the house well ordered?
The doors look'd to now in your Masters absence?
Your care, and diligence amongst the Servants?

Clarin. I am stirring, Madam.

Cal. So thou art, Clarinda,
More than thou ought'st I am sure, why dost thou blush?

Clarin. I do not blush.

Cal. Why dost thou hang thy head wench?

Clarin. Madam, ye are deceiv'd, I look upright,
I understand ye not: she has spied Leon, [Aside.
Shame of his want of caution.

Cal. Look on me; what, blush again?

Clarin. 'Tis more than I know, Madam;
I have no cause that I find yet.

Cal. Examine then.

Clarin. Your Ladyship is set I think to shame me.

Cal. Do not deserv't, who lay with you last night?
What bed-fellow had ye? none of the maids came near ye.

Clarin. Madam, they did.

Cal. 'Twas one in your Cousins cloaths then,
And wore a sword; and sure I keep no Amazons;
Wench do not lye, 'twill but proclaim thee guilty;
Lyes hide our sins like nets; like perspectives,
They draw offences nearer still, and greater:
Come, tell the truth.

Clarin. You are the strangest Lady
To have these doubts of me; how have I liv'd, Madam?
And which of all my careful services deserves these shames?

Cal. Leave facing, 'twill not serve ye,
This impudence becomes thee worse than lying.
I thought ye had liv'd well, and I was proud of't;
But you are pleas'd to abuse my thoughts; who was't?
Honest repentance yet will make the fault less.

Clarin. Do ye compel me? do you stand so strict too?
Nay, then have at ye; I shall rub that sore, Madam,
(Since ye provoke me) will but vex your Ladyship;
Let me alone.

Cal. I will know.

Clarin. For your own peace,
The peace of your own conscience ask no farther;
Walk in, and let me alone.

Cal. No, I will know all.

Clar. Why, then I'le tell ye, 'twas a man I lay with,
Never admire, 'tis easie to be done, Madam,
And usual too, a proper man I lay with;
Why should you vex at that? young as Lisander,
And able too; I grudge not at your pleasure,
Why should you stir at mine? I steal none from ye.

Cal. And dost thou glory in this sin?

Cla. I am glad on't, to glory in't is for a mighty Lady
That may command.

Cal. Why didst thou name Lisander?

Clari. Does it anger ye? does it a little gall ye?
I know it does, why would ye urge me Lady?
Why would ye be so curious to compel me?
I nam'd Lisander as my president,
The rule I err'd by, you love him, I know it,
I grudg'd not at it, but am pleas'd it is so;
And by my care and diligence you enjoy'd him,
Shall I for keeping counsel, have no comfort?
Will you have all your self? ingross all pleasure
Are ye so hard hearted? why do ye blush now, Madam?

Cal. My anger blushes, not my shame, base woman.

Clari. I'le make your shame blush, since you put me to't.
Who lay with you t'other night?

Cal. With me? ye monster.

Clari. Whose sweet embraces circled ye? not your husbands;
I wonder ye dare touch me in this point, Madam?
Stir her against ye in whose hand your life lies?
More than your life, your honour? what smug Amazon
Was that I brought you? that maid had ne're a petticoat?

Cal. She'l half perswade me anon, I am a beast too,
And I mistrust my self, though I am honest
For giving her the Helm, thou knowest, Clarinda,
(Ev'n in thy conscience) I was ever vertuous;
As far from lust in meeting with Lisander,
As the pure wind in welcoming the morning;
In all the co[n]versation I had with him,
As free, and innocent, as yon fair Heaven;
Didst not thou perswade me too?

Clarin. Yes, I had reason for't,
And now you are perswaded I'le make use on't.

Cal. If I had sin'd thus, and my youth entic'd me,
The nobleness and beauty of his person,
Beside the mighty benefits I am bound to,
Is this sufficient warrant for thy weakness?
If I had been a whore, and crav'd thy counsel
In the conveyance of my fault and faithfulness,
Thy secrecie, and truth in hiding of it;
Is it thy justice to repay me thus?
To be the Master sinner to compel me?
And build thy lusts security on mine honour?

Cla. They that love this sin, love their security;
Prevention, Madam, is the nail I knock'd at,
And I have hit it home, and so I'le hold it,
And you must pardon me, and be silent too,
And suffer what ye see, and suffer patiently;
I shall do worse else.

Cal. Thou canst not touch my credit:
Truth will not suffer me to be abus'd thus.

Clarin. Do not you stick to truth, she is seldom heard, Madam,
A poor weak tongue she has, and that is hoarse too
With pleading at the bars, none understand[s] her,
Or if you had her, what can she say for ye?
Must she not swear he came at midnight to ye,
The door left open, and your husband cozen'd
With a feign'd sickness?

Cal. But by my soul I was honest, thou know'st I was honest.

Clarin. That's all one what I know,
What I will testifie is that shall vex ye;
Trust not a guilty rage with likelihoods,
And on apparent proof, take heed of that, Madam;
If you were innocent (as it may be ye are)
I do not know, I leave it to your conscience,
It were the weakest and the poorest part of ye,
Men being so willing to believe the worst,
So open eyed in this age to all infamie,
To put your fame in this weak bark to the venture.

Cal. What do I suffer! O my precious honour,
Into what box of evils have I lock'd thee!
Yet rather than be thus outbrav'd, and by
My drudg, my footstool, one that sued to be so;
Perish both life, and honour. Devil thus
I dare thy worst, defie thee, spit at thee,
And in my vertuous rage, thus trample on thee;
Awe me thy Mistris, whore, to be thy baud?
Out of my house, proclaim all that thou knowest,
Or malice can invent, fetch jealousie
From Hell, and like a furie breath it in
The bosom of my Lord; and to thy utmost
Blast my fair fame, yet thou shalt feel with horror
To thy sear'd conscience, my truth is built
On such a firm base, that if e're it can
Be forc'd, or undermin'd by thy base scandals,
Heaven keeps no guard on innocence. [Exit.

Clarin. I am lost,
In my own hopes forsaken, and must fall
The greatest torment to a guilty woman
Without revenge, till I can fashion it
I must submit, at least appear as if
I did repent, and would offend no farther.
Monsieur Beronte my Lords Brother is
Oblig'd unto me for a private favour;
'Tis he must mediate for me; but when time
And opportunity bids me strike, my wreak
Shall pour it self on her nice chastitie
Like to a torrent, deeds, not words shall speak me. [Exit.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Alci. Ye are opportunely [m]et.

Ber. Your countenance expresses hast mixt with some fear.

Alci. You'l share with me in both, as soon as you are made
Acquainted with the cause, if you love vertue,
In danger not secure; I have no time
For circumstance, instruct me if Lisander
Be in your Brothers house?

Ber. Upon my knowledge he is not there.

Alci. I am glad on't.

Ber. Why good Sir?
(Without offence I speak it) there's no place
In which he is more honour'd, or more safe,
Than with his friend Cleander.

Alci. In your votes
I grant it true, but as it now stands with him,
I can give reason to make satisfaction
For what I speak; you cannot but remember
The ancient difference between Lisander
And Cloridon, a man in grace at Court?

Ber. I do; and the foul plot of Cloridons kinsman
Upon Lisanders life, for a fall given to Cloridon
'Fore the King, as they encountred at a solemn tilting.

Alci. It is now reveng'd:
In brief, a challenge was brought to Lisander
By one Chrysant[h]es; and as far as valour
Would give him leave, declin'd by bold Lisander:
But peace refus'd, and braves on braves heap'd on him,
Alone he met the opposites, ending the quarrel
With both their lives.

Ber. I am truly sorry for't.

Alci. The King incensed for his favorites death,
Hath set a price upon Lisanders head,
As a reward to any man that brings it
Alive, or dead; to gain this, every where
He is pursu'd, and laid for; and the friendship
Between him and your noble Brother known,
His house in reason cannot pass unsearcht,
And that's the principal cause that drew me hither,
To hasten his remove, if he had chosen
This Castle for his sanctuary.

Ber. 'Twas done nobly,
And you most welcom; this night pray you take
A lodging with us; and at my intreaty
Conceal this from my Brother, he is grown
Exceeding sad of late; and the hard fortune
Of one he values at so high a rate,
Will much encrease his melancholy.

Alci. I am tutor'd: pray you lead the way.

Ber. To serve you I will shew it. [Exeunt.

Cle. Nothing more certain than to dye, but when
Is most uncertain: if so, every hour
We should prepare us for the journey, which
Is not to be put off, I must submit
To the divine decree, not argue it,
And chearfully I welcom it: I have
Dispos'd of my estate, confess'd my sins,
And have remission from my Ghost[l]y Father,
Being at peace too here: the apparition
Proceeded not from fancy, Dorilaus
Saw it, and heard it with me, it made answer
To our demands, and promis'd, if 'twere not
Deny'd to him by fate, he would forewarn me
Of my approaching end, I feel no symptome
Of sickness, yet I know not how a dulness
Invades me all over. Ha?

Host. I come Sir,
To keep my promise; and as far as spirits
Are sensible of sorrow for the living,
I grieve to be the messenger to tell you,
E're many hours pass, you must resolve
To fill a grave.

Cle. And feast the worms?

Host. Even so Sir.

Clea. I hear it like a man.

Host. It well becomes you, there's no evading it.

Cle. Can you discover by whose means I must dye?

Host. That is deny'd me:
But my prediction is too sure; prepare
To make your peace with heaven. So farewel Sir. [Ex.

Cle. I see no enemy near; and yet I tremble
Like a pale coward: my sad doom pronounc'd
By this aerial voice, as in a glass
Shews me my death in its most dreadfull shape.
What rampire can my humane frailty raise
Against the assault of fate? I do begin
To fear my self, my inward strengths forsake me,
I must call out for help. Within there? haste,
And break in to my rescue.

Enter Dorilaus, Calista, Olinda, Beronte, Alcidon,
Servants, and Clarinda, at several doors.

Dor. Rescue? where? shew me your danger.

Cal. I will interpose
My loyall breast between you and all hazard.

Ber. Your Brothers Sword secures you.

Alci. A true friend will dye in your defence.

Clean. I thank ye,
To all my thanks. Encompass'd thus with friends
How can I fear? and yet I do, I am wounded,
Mortally wounded: nay it is within,
I am hurt in my minde: One word—

Dor. A thousand.

Cle. I shall not live to speak so many to you.

Dor. Why? what forbids you?

Cle. But even now the spirit
Of my dead Host appear'd, and told me, that
This night I should be with him: did you not meet it?
It went out at that door.

Dor. A vain Chimera
Of your imagination: can you think
Mine Host would not as well have spoke to me now,
As he did in the Inn? these waking dreams
Not alone trouble you, but strike a strange
Distraction in your Family: see the tears
Of my poor Daughter, fair Olinda's sadness,
Your Brothers, and your friends grief, servants sorrow.
Good Son bear up, you have many years to live
A comfort to us all: let's in to supper;
Ghosts never walk till after mid-night, if
I may believe my Grannam. We will wash
These thoughts away with Wine, spight of Hobgoblins.

Cle. You reprehend me justly: gentle Madam,
And all the rest, forgive me, I'le endeavour
To be merry with you.

Dor. That's well said.

Beron. I have procur'd your pardon.

Cal. Once more I receive you
Into my service: but take especial care
You fall no further.

Clar. Never Madam: Sir,
When you shall find fit time to call me to it,
I will make good what I have said.

Ber. Till when, upon your life be silent.

Dor. We will have a health unto Lisander.

Cle. His name, Sir,
Somewhat revives me; but his sight would cure me.
How ever let's to supper.

Olin. Would Clarange
And Lidian were here too, as they should be,
If wishes cou'd prevail.

Cal. They are fruitless, Madam. [Ex.