THE PHŒNIX.

The Phoenix, as it hath beene sundrye times Acted by the Children of Paules, And presented before his Maiestie. London Printed by E. A. for A. I., and are to be solde at the signe of the white horse in Paules Churchyard. 1607. 4to.

A second edition, from which frequently words, and sometimes whole passages, have dropt out, appeared in 1630, 4to. The acts and scenes are not distinguished in the old copies.

The Phœnix was licensed, by Sir George Bucke, 9th May, 1607. Chalmers’s Suppl. Apol. p. 200.

According to the Biographia Dramatica (a work on which I place no reliance), the plot of this play is taken from a Spanish novel, called The Force of Love.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
SCENE, Ferrara.
THE PHŒNIX.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Chamber in the Palace of the Duke of Ferrara.
Enter the Duke, Proditor, Lussurioso, Infesto, and other nobles, with attendants.
Duke. My lords,
Know that we, far from any natural pride,
Or touch of temporal sway, have seen our face
In our grave council’s foreheads, where doth stand
Our truest glass, made by Time’s wrinkled hand.
We know we’re old; my days proclaim me so;
Forty-five years I’ve gently rul’d this dukedom;
Pray heaven it be no fault!
For there’s as much disease, though not to th’ eye,
In too much pity as in tyranny.
Infes. Your grace hath spoke it right.
Duke. I know that life
Has not long course in me; ’twill not be long
Before I shew that kings have mortal bodies
As well as subjects: therefore to my comfort,
And your successful hopes, I have a son,
Whom I dare boast of——
Lus. Whom we all do boast of;
A prince elder in virtues than in years.
Infes. His judgment is a father to his youth.
Prod. Ay, ay, would he were from court! [Aside.
Infes. Our largest hopes grow in him.
Prod. And ’tis the greatest pity, noble lord,
He is untravell’d.
Lus. ’Tis indeed, my lord.
Prod. Had he but travel to his time and virtue—
O, he should ne’er return again! [Aside.
Duke. It shall be so: what is in hope begun,[793]
Experience quickens; travel confirms the man,
Who[794] else lives doubtful, and his days oft sorry:
Who’s rich in knowledge has the stock of glory.
Prod. Most true, my royal lord.
Duke. Some one attend our son.
Infes. See, here he comes, my lord.
Enter Phœnix, attended by Fidelio.
Duke. O, you come well.
Phœ. ’Tis always my desire, my worthy father.
Duke. Your serious studies, and those fruitful hours
That grow up into judgment, well become
Your birth, and all our loves: I weep that you are my son,
But virtuously I weep, the more my gladness.
We have thought good and meet, by the consent
Of these our nobles, to move you toward travel,
The better to approve you to yourself,
And give your apter power foundation:
To see affections actually presented,
E’en by those men that owe[795] them, yield[s] more profit,
Ay, more content, than singly to read of them,
Since love or fear make writers partial.
The good and free example which you find
In other countries, match it with your own,
The ill to shame the ill; which will in time
Fully instruct you how to set in frame
A kingdom all in pieces.
Phœ. Honour’d father,
With care and duty I have listen’d to you.
What you desire, in me it is obedience:
I do obey in all, knowing for right,
Experience is a kingdom’s better sight.
Prod. O, ’tis the very lustre of a prince,
Travel! ’tis sweet and generous.
Duke. He that knows how to obey, knows how to reign;
And that true knowledge have we found in you.
Make choice of your attendants.
Phœ. They’re soon chose;
Only this man, my lord, a loving servant of mine.
Duke. What! none but he?
Phœ. I do intreat no more;
For that’s the benefit a private gentleman
Enjoys beyond our state, when he notes all,
Himself unnoted.
For, should I bear the fashion of a prince,
I should then win more flattery than profit,
And I should give ’em time and warning then
To hide their actions from me: if I appear a sun,
They’ll run into the shade with their ill deeds,
And so prevent[796] me.
Prod. A little too wise,[797] a little too wise to live long. [Aside.
Duke. You have answer’d us with wisdom: let it be;
Things private are best known through privacy.
[Exeunt all but Phœnix and Fidelio.
Phœ. Stay you, my elected servant.
Fid. My kind lord.
Phœ. The duke my father has a heavy burden
Of years upon him.
Fid. My lord, it seems so, for they make him stoop.
Phœ. Without dissemblance he is deep in age;
He bows unto his grave. I wonder much
Which of his wild nobility it should be
(For none of his sad[798] council has a voice in’t),
Should so far travel into his consent,
To set me over into other kingdoms,
Upon the stroke and minute of his death?
Fid. My lord, ’tis easier to suspect them all,
Than truly to name one.
Phœ. Since it is thus,
By absence I’ll obey the duke my father,
And yet not wrong myself.
Fid. Therein, my lord,
You might be happy twice.
Phœ. So it shall be;
I’ll stay at home, and travel.
Fid. Would your grace
Could make that good!

Phœ. I can: and, indeed, a prince need no[t] travel farther than his own kingdom, if he apply himself faithfully, worthy the glory of himself and expectation of others: and it would appear far nobler industry in him to reform those fashions that are already in his country, than to bring new ones in, which have neither true form nor fashion; to make his court an owl, city an ape, and the country a wolf preying upon the ridiculous pride of either: and therefore I hold it a safer stern,[799] upon this lucky advantage, since my father is near his setting, and I upon the eastern hill to take my rise, to look into the heart and bowels of this dukedom, and, in disguise, mark all abuses ready for reformation or punishment.

Fid. Give me but leave unfeignedly to admire you,
Your wisdom is so spacious and so honest.

Phœ. So much have the complaints and suits of men, seven, nay, seventeen years neglected, still interposed by coin and great enemies, prevailed with my pity, that I cannot otherwise think but there are infectious dealings in most offices, and foul mysteries throughout all professions: and therefore I nothing doubt but to find travel enough within myself, and experience, I fear, too much: nor will I be curious[800] to fit my body to the humblest form and bearing, so the labour may be fruitful; for how can abuses that keep low, come to the right view of a prince, unless his looks lie level with them, which else will be longest hid from him?—he shall be the last man sees ’em.

For oft between kings’ eyes and subjects’ crimes
Stands there a bar of bribes: the under office
Flatters him next above it, he the next,
And so of most, or many.
Every abuse will choose a brother:
’Tis through the world, this hand will rub the other.
Fid. You have set down the world briefly, my lord.
Phœ. But how am I assur’d of faith in thee?
Yet I durst trust thee.
Fid. Let my soul be lost,
When it shall loose your secrets: nor will I
Only be a preserver of them, but,
If you so please, an assister.
Phœ. It suffices:
That king stands sur’st who by his virtue rises
More than by birth or blood; that prince is rare,
Who strives in youth to save his age from care.
Let’s be prepar’d; away.
Fid. I’ll follow your grace.— [Exit Phœnix.
Thou wonder of all princes, president, and glory,
True Phœnix, made of an unusual strain!
Who labours to reform is fit to reign.
How can that king be safe that studies not
The profit of his people? See where comes
The best part of my heart, my love.
Enter Niece.[801]
Niece. Sir, I am bound to find you: I heard newly
Of sudden travel which his grace intends,
And only but yourself to accompany him.
Fid. You heard in that little beside the truth;
Yet not so sudden as to want those manners,
To leave you unregarded.
Niece. I did not think so unfashionably of you.
How long is your return?
Fid. ’Tis not yet come to me, scarce to my lord.
Unless the duke refer it to his pleasure;
But long I think it is not: the duke’s age,
If not his apt experience, will forbid it.
Niece. His grace commands, I must not think amiss:
Farewell.
Fid. Nay, stay, and take this comfort;
You shall hear often from us; I’ll direct
Where you shall surely know; and I desire you
Write me the truth, how my new father-in-law
The captain bears himself toward my mother;
For that marriage
Knew nothing of my mind, it never flourish’d
In any part of my affection.
Niece. Methinks sh’as much disgrac’d herself.
Fid. Nothing so,
If he be good, and will abide the touch;
A captain may marry a lady, if he can sail
Into her good will.
Niece. Indeed that’s all.
Fid. ’Tis all
In all; commend me to thy breast; farewell.
[Exit Niece.
So by my lord’s firm policy we may see,
To present view, what absent forms would be. [Exit.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Captain’s House..
Enter the Captain with soldiering fellows.

First Sol. There’s noble purchase,[802] captain.

Second Sol. Nay, admirable purchase.

Third Sol. Enough to make us proud for ever.

Cap. Hah?

First Sol. Never was opportunity so gallant.

Cap. Why, you make me mad.

Second Sol. Three ships, not a poop less.

Third Sol. And every one so wealthily burdened, upon my manhood.

Cap. Pox on’t, and now am I tied e’en as the devil would ha’t.

First Sol. Captain, of all men living, I would ha’ sworn thou wouldst ne’er have married.

Cap. ’S foot, so would I myself, man; give me my due; you know I ha’ sworn all heaven over and over?

First Sol. That you have, i’faith.

Cap. Why, go to then.

First Sol. Of a man that has tasted salt water to commit such a fresh trick!

Cap. Why, ’tis abominable! I grant you, now I see’t.

First Sol. Had there been fewer women——

Second Sol. And among those women fewer drabs——

Third Sol. And among those drabs fewer pleasing——

Cap. Then ’t had been something——

First Sol. But when there are more women, more common, pretty sweethearts, than ever any age could boast of——

Cap. And I to play the artificer and marry! to have my wife dance at home, and my ship at sea, and both take in salt water together! O lieutenant, thou’rt happy! thou keepest a wench.

First Sol. I hope I am happier than so, captain, for a’ my troth, she keeps me.

Cap. How? is there any such fortunate man breathing? and I so miserable to live honest! I envy thee, lieutenant, I envy thee, that thou art such a happy knave. Here’s my hand among you; share it equally; I’ll to sea with you.

Second Sol. There spoke a noble captain!

Cap. Let’s hear from you; there will be news shortly.

First Sol. Doubt it not, captain.

[Exeunt all but Captain.

Cap. What lustful passion came aboard of me, that I should marry? was I drunk? yet that cannot altogether hold, for it was four a’ clock i’ th’ morning; had it been five, I would ha’ sworn it. That a man is in danger every minute to be cast away, without he have an extraordinary pilot that can perform more than a man can do! and to say truth too, when I’m abroad, what can I do at home? no man living can reach so far: and what a horrible thing ’twould be to have horns brought me at sea, to look as if the devil were i’ th’ ship! and all the great tempests would be thought of my raising! to be the general curse of all merchants! and yet they likely are as deep in as myself; and that’s a comfort. O, that a captain should live to be married! nay, I that have been such a gallant salt-thief, should yet live to be married! What a fortunate elder brother is he, whose father being a rammish ploughman, himself a perfumed gentleman spending the labouring reek from his father’s nostrils in tobacco, the sweat of his father’s body in monthly physic for his pretty queasy[803] harlot! he sows apace i’ th’ country; the tailor o’ertakes him i’ th’ city, so that oftentimes before the corn comes to earing,[804] ’tis up to the ears in high collars, and so at every harvest the reapers take pains for the mercers: ha! why, this is stirring happiness indeed. Would my father had held a plough so, and fed upon squeezed curds and onions, that I might have bathed in sensuality! but he was too ruttish himself to let me thrive under him; consumed me before he got me; and that makes me so wretched now to be shackled with a wife, and not greatly rich neither.

Enter Castiza.[805]

Cas. Captain, my husband.

Cap. ’S life, call me husband again, and I’ll play the captain and beat you.

Cas. What has disturb’d you, sir, that you now look
So like an enemy upon me?
Cap. Go make a widower [of me], hang thyself!
How comes it that you are so opposite
To love and kindness? I deserve more respect,
But that you please to be forgetful of it.
Cas. For love to you, did I neglect my state,
Chide better fortunes from me,
Gave the world talk, laid all my friends at waste!
Cap. The more fool you: could you like none but me?
Could none but I supply you? I am sure
You were sued to by far worthier men,
Deeper in wealth and gentry.
What couldst thou see in me, to make thee doat
So on me? If I know I am a villain,
What a torment’s this! Why didst thou marry me?
You think, as most of your insatiate widows,
That captains can do wonders; when, alas,[806]
The name does often prove the better man!
Cas. That which you urge should rather give me cause
To repent than yourself.
Cap. Then to that end
I do it.[807]
Cas. What a miserable state
Am I led into!
Enter Servant.[808]
Cap. How now, sir?
Serv. Count Proditor
Is now alighted.
Cap. What, my lord? I must
Make much of him; he’ll one day write me cuckold;
It is[809] good to make much of such a man:
E’en to my face he plies it hard,—I thank him.
Enter Proditor.
What, my worthy lord?
Prod. I’ll come to you
In order, captain. [Kisses Castiza.
Cap. O that’s in order!
A kiss is the gamut to pricksong.
Prod. Let me salute you, captain. [Exit Castiza.
Cap. My dear
Esteemed count, I have a life for you.
Prod. Hear you the news?
Cap. What may it be, my lord?
Prod. My lord, the duke’s son, is upon his travel
To several kingdoms.
Cap. May it be possible, my lord,
And yet so little rumour’d?
Prod. Take’t of my truth;[810]
Nay, ’twas well manag’d; things are as they are handl’d:
But all my care is still, pray heaven he return
Safe, without danger, captain.
Cap. Why, is there any doubt
To be had of that, my lord?
Prod. Ay, by my faith, captain:
Princes have private enemies, and great.
Put case a man should grudge him for his virtues,
Or envy him for his wisdom; why, you know,
This makes him lie bare-breasted to his foe.
Cap. That’s full of certainty, my lord; but who
Be his attendants?
Prod. Thence, captain, comes the fear;
But singly[811] attended neither (my best gladness),
Only by your son-in-law, Fidelio.

Cap. Is it to be believed? I promise you, my lord, then I begin to fear him myself; that fellow will undo him: I durst undertake to corrupt him with twelvepence over and above, and that’s a small matter; has a whorish conscience; he’s an inseparable knave,[812] and I could ne’er speak well of that fellow.

Prod. All we of the younger house, I can tell you, do doubt him much. The lady’s removed: shall we have your sweet society, captain?

Cap. Though it be in mine own house, I desire I may follow your lordship.

Prod. I love to avoid strife.——
Not many months Phœnix shall keep his life.
[Aside and exit.
Cap. So; his way is in; he knows it.
We must not be uncourteous to a lord;
Warn him our house ’twere vild.[813]

His presence is an honour: if he lie with our wives, ’tis for our credit; we shall be the better trusted; ’tis a sign we shall live i’ th’ world. O, tempests and whirlwinds! who but that man whom the forefinger[814] cannot daunt, that makes his shame his living—who but that man, I say, could endure to be throughly married? Nothing but a divorce can relieve me: any way to be rid of her would rid my torment; if all means fail, I’ll kill or poison her, and purge my fault at sea. But first I’ll make gentle try of a divorce: but how shall I accuse her subtle honesty? I’ll attach this lord’s coming to her, take hold of that, ask counsel: and now I remember, I have acquaintance with an old crafty client, who, by the puzzle of suits and shifting of courts, has more tricks and starting-holes than the dizzy pates of fifteen attorneys; one that has been muzzled in law like a bear, and led by the ring of his spectacles from office to office.

Him I’ll seek out with haste; all paths I’ll tread,
All deaths I’ll die, ere I die married. [Exit.

SCENE III.

Another Room in the Captain’s House.
Enter Proditor and Castiza.

Prod. Pooh, you do resist me hardly.

Cas. I beseech your lordship, cease in this: ’tis never to be granted. If you come as a friend unto my honour, and my husband, you shall be ever welcome; if not, I must entreat it——

Prod. Why, assure yourself, madam, ’tis not the fashion.

Cas. ’Tis more my grief, my lord; such as myself
Are judg’d the worse for such.
Prod. Faith, you’re too nice:
You’ll see me kindly forth?
Cas. And honourably welcome.[815] [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Room in an Inn.
Enter Groom lighting in Phœnix and Fidelio.

Groom. Gentlemen, you’re most neatly welcome.

Phœ. You’re very cleanly, sir: prithee, have a care to our geldings.

Groom. Your geldings shall be well considered.

Fid. Considered?

Phœ. Sirrah, what guess[816] does this inn hold now?

Groom. Some five and twenty gentlemen, besides their beasts.

Phœ. Their beasts?

Groom. Their wenches, I mean, sir; for your worship knows those that are under men are beasts.

Phœ. How does your mother, sir?

Groom. Very well in health, I thank you heartily, sir.

Phœ. And so is my mare, i’faith.

Groom. I’ll do her commendations indeed, sir.

Fid. Well kept up, shuttlecock!

Phœ. But what old fellow was he that newly alighted before us?

Groom. Who, he? as arrant a crafty fellow as e’er made water on horseback. Some say, he’s as good as a lawyer; marry, I’m sure he’s as bad as a knave: if you have any suits in law, he’s the fittest man for your company; has been so towed[817] and lugged himself, that he is able to afford you more knavish counsel for ten groats than another for ten shillings.

Phœ. A fine fellow! but do you know him to be a knave, and will lodge him?

Groom. Your worship begins to talk idly; your bed shall be made presently: if we should not lodge knaves, I wonder how we should be able to live honestly: are there honest men enough, think you, in a term-time to fill all the inns in the town? and, as far as I can see, a knave’s gelding eats no more hay than an honest man’s; nay, a[818] thief’s gelding eats less, I’ll stand to’t; his master allows him a better ordinary; yet I have my eightpence day and night: ’twere more for our profit, I wus,[819] you were all thieves, if you were so contented. I shall be called for: give your worships good morrow. [Exit.

Phœ. A royal knave, i’faith: we have happened into a godly inn.

Fid. Assure you, my lord, they belong all to one church.

Phœ. This should be some old, busy, turbulent fellow: [a] villanous law-worm, that eats holes into poor men’s causes.

Enter Tangle with two Suitors, and Groom.

First Suit. May it please your worship to give me leave?

Tan. I give you leave, sir; you have your veniam.—Now fill me a brown toast, sirrah.

Groom. Will you have no drink to’t, sir?

Tan. Is that a question in law?

Groom. Yes, in the lowest court, i’ th’ cellar, sir.

Tan. Let me ha’t removed presently, sir.

Groom. It shall be done, sir. [Exit.

Tan. Now as you were saying, sir,—I’ll come to you immediately too.

Phœ. O, very well, sir.

Tan. I’m a little busy, sir.

First Suit. But as how, sir?

Tan. I pray, sir?

First Suit. Has brought me into the court; marry, my adversary has not declared yet.

Tan. Non declaravit adversarius, sayest thou? what a villain’s that! I have a trick to do thee good: I will get thee out a proxy, and make him declare, with a pox to him.

First Suit. That will make him declare to his sore grief; I thank your good worship: but put case he do declare?

Tan. Si declarasset, if he should declare there——

First Suit. I would be loath to stand out to the judgment of that court.

Tan. Non ad judicium, do you fear corruption? then I’ll relieve you again; you shall get a supersedeas non molestandum, and remove it higher.

First Suit. Very good.

Tan. Now if it should ever come to a testificandum, what be his witnesses?

First Suit. I little fear his witnesses.

Tan. Non metuis testes? more valiant man than Orestes.

First Suit. Please you, sir, to dissolve this into wine, ale, or beer. [Giving money.] I come a hundred mile to you, I protest, and leave all other counsel behind me.

Tan. Nay, you shall always find me a sound card: I stood not a’ th’ pillory for nothing in 88; all the world knows that.—Now let me despatch you, sir.—I come to you presenter.

Second Suit. Faith, the party hath removed both body and cause with a habeas corpus.

Tan. Has he that knavery? but has he put in bail above, canst tell?

Second Suit. That I can assure your worship he has not.

Tan. Why, then, thy best course shall be, to lay out more money, take out a procedendo, and bring down the cause and him with a vengeance.

Second Suit. Then he will come indeed.

Tan. As for the other party, let the audita querela alone; take me out a special supplicavit, which will cost you enough, and then you pepper him. For the first party after the procedendo you’ll get costs; the cause being found, you’ll have a judgment; nunc pro tunc, you’ll get a venire facias to warn your jury, a decem tales to fill up the number, and a capias utlagatum for your execution.

Second Suit. I thank you, my learned counsel.

Phœ. What a busy caterpillar’s this! let’s accost him in that manner.

Fid. Content, my lord.

Phœ. O my old admirable fellow, how have I all this while thirsted to salute thee! I knew thee in octavo of the duke——

Tan. In octavo of the duke? I remember the year well.

Phœ. By th’ mass, a lusty, proper[820] man!

Tan. O, was I?

Phœ. But still in law.

Tang. Still in law? I had not breathed else now; ’tis very marrow, very manna to me to be in law; I’d been dead ere this else. I have found such sweet pleasure in the vexation of others, that I could wish my years over and over again, to see that fellow a beggar, that bawling knave a gentleman, a matter brought e’en to a judgment to-day, as far as e’er ’twas to begin again to-morrow: O raptures! here a writ of demur, there a procedendo, here a sursurrara,[821] there a capiendo, tricks, delays, money-laws!

Phœ. Is it possible, old lad?

Tan. I have been a term-trotter[822] myself any time this five and forty years; a goodly time and a gracious: in which space I ha’ been at least sixteen times beggared, and got up again; and in the mire again, that I have stunk again, and yet got up again.

Phœ. And so clean and handsome now?

Tan. You see it apparently; I cannot hide it from you: nay, more, in felici hora be it spoken, you see I’m old, yet have I at this present nine and twenty suits in law.

Phœ. Deliver us, man!

Tan. And all not worth forty shillings.

Phœ. May it be believed?

Tan. The pleasure of a man is all.

Phœ. An old fellow, and such a stinger!

Tan. A stake pulled out of my hedge, there’s one; I was well beaten, I remember, that’s two; I took one a-bed with my wife again[823] her will, that’s three; I was called cuckold for my labour, that’s four; I took another a-bed again, that’s five; then one called me wittol,[824] that’s six; he killed my dog for barking, seven; my maid-servant was knocked at that time, eight; my wife miscarried with a push, nine; et sic de cæteris. I have so vexed and beggared the whole parish with process, subpœnas, and such-like molestations, they are not able to spare so much ready money from a term, as would set up a new weathercock; the churchwardens are fain to go to law with the poors’ money.

Phœ. Fie, fie!

Tan. And I so fetch up all the men every term-time, that ’tis impossible to be at civil cuckoldry within ourselves, unless the whole country rise upon our wives.

Fid. A’ my faith, a pretty policy!

Phœ. Nay, an excellent stratagem: but of all I most wonder at the continual substance of thy wit, that, having had so many suits in law from time to time, thou hast still money to relieve ’em.

Fid. Has the best fortune for that; I never knew him without.

Tan. Why do you so much wonder at that? Why, this is my course: my mare and I come up some five days before a term.

Phœ. A good decorum!

Tan. Here I lodge, as you see, amongst inns and places of most receipt——

Phœ. Very wittily.

Tan. By which advantage I dive into countrymen’s causes; furnish ’em with knavish counsel, little to their profit; buzzing into their ears this course, that writ, this office, that ultimum refugium; as you know I have words enow for the purpose.

Phœ. Enow a’ conscience, i’faith.

Tan. Enow a’ law, no matter for conscience. For which busy and laborious sweating courtesy, they cannot choose but feed me with money, by which I maintain mine own suits: hoh, hoh, hoh!

Phœ. Why, let me hug thee: caper in mine arms.

Tan. Another special trick I have, no body must know it, which is, to prefer most of those men to one attorney, whom I affect best: to answer which kindness of mine, he will sweat the better in my cause, and do them the less good: take’t of my word, I helped my attorney to more clients the last term than he will despatch all his lifetime; I did it.

Phœ. What a noble, memorable deed was there!