  Enter Carracus, driving his man before him. Car. Why, thou base villain! was my dearest Friend here, and couldst not make him stay? Ser. 'Sfoot, sir, I could not force him 'gainst his will: An' he had been a woman—— Car. Hence, thou untutor'd slave! But couldst thou, Albert, come so near my door, Hath my good fortune caus'd thee to repine? And, seeing my state so full replete with good, Canst thou withdraw thy love to lessen it? What could so move thee? was't because I married? Didst thou imagine I infring'd my faith, For that a woman did participate In equal share with thee? cannot my friendship Be firm to thee because 'tis dear to her? Yet no more dear to her than firm to thee. Believe me, Albert, thou dost little think How much thy absence gives cause of discontent. But I'll impute it only to neglect: It is neglect indeed when friends neglect The sight of friends, and say 'tis troublesome: Only ask how they do, and so farewell, Showing an outward kind of seeming duty, Which in the rules of manhood is observ'd, And think full well they have perform'd their task, When of their friend's health they do only ask; Not caring how they are, or how distress'd— It is enough they have their loves express'd In bare inquiry; and, in these times, too, Friendship's so cold, that few so much will do. And am not I beholden then to Albert? He, after knowledge of our being well, Said he was truly glad on't: O rare friend! If he be unkind, how many more may mend? But whither am I carried by unkindness? Why should not I as well set light by friendship, Since I have seen a man, whom I late thought Had been compos'd of nothing but of faith, Prove so regardless of his friend's content? Enter Maria. Maria. Come, Carracus, I have sought you all about: Prythee, love, be not so; come, [come,] walk in; I'll charm thee with my lute from forth disturbance. Car. I am not angry, sweet; though, if I were, Thy bright aspect would soon allay my rage. But, my Maria, it doth something move me That our friend Albert so forgets himself. Maria. It may be, 'tis nothing else; and there's no doubt He'll soon remember his accustom'd friendship. He thinks as yet, peradventure, that his presence Will but offend, for that our marriage rites Are but so newly pass'd. Car. I will surmise so too, and only think Some serious business hinders Albert's presence. But what ring's that, Maria, on your finger? Maria. 'Tis one you lost, love, when I did bestow A jewel of far greater worth on you. Car. At what time, fairest? Maria. As if you knew not! why d'ye make't so strange? Car. You are dispos'd to riddle; pray, let's see't. I partly know it: where was't you found it? Maria. Why, in my chamber, that most gladsome night, When you enrich'd your love by my escape. Car. How! in your chamber? Maria. Sure, Carracus, I will be angry with you, If you seem so forgetful. I took it up, Then when you left my lodge, and went away, Glad of your conquest, for to seek your friend, Why stand you so amaz'd, sir? I hope that kindness, Which then you reap'd, doth not prevail So in your thoughts, as that you think me light. This is the ring of Albert, treacherous man! He that enjoy'd thy virgin chastity. I never did ascend into thy chamber. But all that cold night, through the frozen field, Went seeking of that wretch, who ne'er sought me; But found what his lust sought for, dearest thee. Maria. I have heard enough, my Carracus, to bereave Me of this little breath. [She swoons. Car. All breath be first Extinguished. Within there, ho! Enter Nurse and Servants. O nurse! see here, Maria says she'll die. Nurse. Marry, God forbid! O mistress, mistress, mistress! she has breath yet; she's but in a trance: good sir, take comfort, she'll recover by and by. Car. No, no, she'll die, nurse, for she said she would, an' she had not said so, 't had been another matter; but you know, nurse, she ne'er told a lie: I will believe her, for she speaks all truth. Nurse. His memory begin's to fail him. Come, let's bear This heavy spectacle from forth his presence; The heavens will lend a hand, I hope, of comfort. [Exeunt. Carracus manet. Car. See, how they steal away my fair Maria! But I will follow after her, as far As Orpheus did to gain his soul's delight; And Pluto's self shall know, although I am not Skilful in music, yet I can be mad, And force my love's enjoyment, in despite Of hell's black fury. But stay, stay, Carracus. Which heaven's great architect endued thee with? All sunk beneath the weight of lumpish nature? Are our diviner parts no noblier free, Than to be tortur'd by the weak assailments Of earthsprung griefs? Why is man, then, accounted The head commander of this universe, Next the Creator, when a little storm Of nature's fury straight o'erwhelms his judgment? But mine's no little storm, it is a tempest So full of raging, self-consuming woe, That nought but ruin follows expectation. O my Maria, what unheard-of sin Have any of thine ancestors enacted, That all their shame should be pour'd thus on thee? Or what incestuous spirit, cruel Albert, Left hell's vast womb for to enter thee, And do a mischief of such treachery? Enter Nurse, weeping. O nurse, how is it with Maria? If e'er thy tongue did utter pleasing words, Let it now do so, or hereafter e'er Be dumb in sorrow. Nurse. Good sir, take comfort; I am forced to speak What will not please: your chaste wife, sir, is dead. Car. 'Tis dead, indeed! how did you know 'twas so, nurse? Nurse. What, sir? Car. That my heart was dead: sure, thou hast serv'd Dame Nature's self, and know'st the inward secrets Of all our hidden powers: I'll love thee for't; Shalt see what wonders Carracus will do: I'll dive into the breast of hateful Albert, And see how his black soul is round encompass'd By fearful fiends. O, I would do strange things! I'd know to whose cause lawyers will incline When they have Of forlorn widows, when their knights have left them; Search through the guts of greatness, and behold What several sin best pleased them: thence I'd descend Into the bowels of some pocky sir, And tell to lechers all the pains he felt, That they thereby might warned be from lust. Troth, 'twill be rare! I'll study it presently. Nurse. Alas! he is distracted! what a sin Am I partaker of, by telling him So curs'd an untruth? But 'twas my mistress' will. Who is recovered; though her griefs never Can be recover'd. She hath vow'd with tears Her own perpetual banishment; therefore to him Death were not more displeasing than if I Had told her lasting absence. Car. I find my brain's too shallow far for study. What need I care for being a 'rithmetician? Let citizens' sons stand, an' they will, for cyphers: Why should I teach them, and go beat my brains To instruct unapt and unconceiving dolts; And, when all's done, my art, that should be fam'd, Will by gross imitation be but sham'd? Your judgment, madam? Nurse. Good sir, walk in; we'll send for learned men, That can allay your frenzy. Car. But can Maria so forget herself, As to debar us thus of her attendance? Nurse. She's within, sir, pray you, will you walk to her? Car. O, is she so! Come, then, let's softly steal Into her chamber; if she be asleep, I'll laugh, shalt see, enough, and thou shalt weep. Softly, good long-coat, softly. [Exeunt. Enter Maria in page's apparel. Mar. Cease now thy steps, Maria, and look back Upon that place where distress'd Carracus Hath his sad being; from whose virtuous bosom Shame hath constrained me fly, ne'er to return. I will go seek some unfrequented path Either in desert woods or wilderness, There to bewail my innocent mishaps, Which heaven hath justly poured down on me, In punishing my disobediency. Enter Young Lord Wealthy. O, see my brother! [Exit Maria. Y. Lord W. Ho, you three-foot-and-a-half! Why, page, I say! 'Sfoot, he is vanished as suddenly as a dumb show. Enter Servant. Ser. Good sir, you have your arms at liberty. Wilt please you to withdraw your action of battery? Y. Lord W. Yes, indeed, now you have made your appearance. Is thy living-giver within, sir? Ser. You mean my master, sir? Y. Lord W. You have hit it, sir, praised be your understanding. I am to have conference with him; would you admit my presence? Ser. Indeed, sir, he is at this time not in health, and may not be disturbed. Y. Lord W. Sir, if he were in the pangs of childbed, I'd speak with him. Enter Carracus. Car. Upon what cause, gay man? Y. Lord W. 'Sfoot, I think he be disturbed indeed; he speaks more commanding than a constable at midnight. Sir, my lord and father, by me (a lord) hath sent these lines enclosed, which show his whole intent. Car. Let me peruse them; if they do portend To the state's good, your answer shall be sudden, Your entertainment friendly; but if otherwise, Our meanest subject shall divide thy greatness. You'd best look to't, ambassador. Y. Lord W. Is your master a statesman, friend? Ser. Alas! no, sir; he understands not what he speaks. Y. Lord W. Ay, but when my father dies, I am to be called in for one myself, and I hope to bear the place as gravely as my successors have done before me. Car. Ambassador, I find your master's will Treats to the good of somewhat, what it is— You have your answer, and may now depart. Y. Lord W. I will relate as much, sir; fare ye well. Car. But stay, I had forgotten quite our chief'st affairs: Your master father writes, some three lines lower, Of one Maria, that is wife to me: That she and I should travel now with you Unto his presence. Y. Lord W. Why, now I understand you, sir: that Maria is my sister, by whose conjunction you are created brother to me a lord. Car. But, brother lord, we cannot go this journey. Y. Lord W. Alas! no, sir? We mean to do it. My sister shall ride upon my nag. Car. Come, then, we'll in and strive to woo your sister. I have not seen her, sir, at least these three days. They keep her in a chamber, and tell me She's fast asleep still: you and I'll go see. Y. Lord W. Content, sir. Ser. Madmen and fools agree. Enter Haddit and Rebecca. Reb. When you have got this prize, you mean to lose me. Had. Nay, prythee, do not think so. If I do not marry thee this instant night, may I never enjoy breath a minute after! By heaven, I respect not his pelf thus much, but only that I may have wherewith to maintain thee. Reb. O, but to rob my father, though he be bad, the world will think ill of me. Had. Think ill of thee! Can the world pity Reb. You have prevailed. At what hour is't you intend to have entrance into his chamber? Had. Why, just at midnight; for then our apparition will seem most fearful. You'll make a way that we may ascend up like spirits? Reb. I will; but how many have you made instruments herein? Had. Faith, none but my cousin Lightfoot and a player. Reb. But may you trust the player? Had. O, exceeding well. We'll give him a speech he understands not. But, now I think on't, what's to be done with your father's man Peter? Reb. Why, the least quantity of drink will lay him dead asleep. But hark, I hear my father coming. Soon in the evening I'll convey you in. Had. Till when, let this outward ceremony be a true pledge of our inward affections. [Kisses her. Exit Rebecca.] Lo, this goes better forward than the plantation in Virginia: but see, here comes half the West Indies, whose rich mines this night I mean to be ransacking. Enter Hog, Lightfoot, and Peter. Hog. Then you'll seal for this small lordship, you say? To-morrow your money shall be rightly told up for you to a penny. Light. I pray, let it, and that your man may set contents upon every bag. Had. Indeed, by that we may know what we steal, without labour for the telling on't over. Hog. Yes, faith, Master Haddit, the gentleman your friend here makes me pay sweetly for't; but let it go, I hope to inherit heaven, if it be but for doing gentlemen pleasure. Hog. Peter! P. Ser. Anon, sir. Hog. I wonder how Haddit came by that gay suit of clothes; all his means were consumed long since. P. Ser. Why, sir, being undone himself, he lives by the undoing, or (by Lady!) it may be by the doing, of others—or peradventure both. A decayed gallant may live by anything, if he keep one thing safe. Hog. Gentlemen, I'll to the scrivener's, to cause these writings to be drawn. Light. Pray do, sir; we'll now leave you till the morning. Hog. Nay, you shall stay dinner; I'll return presently. Peter, some beer here for these worshipful gentlemen. Had. We shall be bold, no doubt; and that, old penny-father, you'll confess by to-morrow morning. Light. Then his daughter is certainly thine, and condescends to all thy wishes? Had. And yet you would not once believe it; as if a female's favour could not be obtained by any but he that wears the cap of maintenance; When 'tis nothing but acquaintance and a bold spirit, That may the chiefest prize 'mongst all of them inherit. Light. Well, thou hast got one deserves the bringing home with trumpets, and falls to thee as miraculously as the £1000 did to the tailor. Thank your good fortune. But must Hog's man be made drunk? Had. By all means; and thus it shall be effected: when he comes in with beer, do you upon some slight occasion fall out with him, and if you give him a cuff or two, it will give him cause to know you are the more angry, then will I slip in and take up the matter, and, striving to make you two friends, we'll make him drunk. Light. It's done in conceit already. See where he comes. Enter Peter. P. Ser. Wilt please you to taste a cup of September beer, gentlemen? Light. Pray, begin: we'll pledge you, sir. P. Ser. It's out, sir. Light. Then my hand is in, sir. [Lightfoot cuffs him.] Why goodman Hobby-horse, if we out of our gentility offered you to begin, must you out of your rascality needs take it? Had. Why, how now, sirs, what's the matter? P. Ser. The gentleman here falls out with me upon nothing in the world but mere courtesy. Had. By this light, but he shall not; why, cousin Lightfoot! P. Ser. Is his name Lightfoot? a plague on him, he has a heavy hand. Enter Young Lord Wealthy. Y. Lord W. Peace be here; for I came late enough from a madman. Had. My young lord, God save you. Y. Lord W. And you also: I could speak it in Latin, but the phrase is common. Had. True, my lord, and what's common ought not much to be dealt withal; but I must desire your help, my lord, to end a controversy here between this gentleman my friend and honest Peter who, [Aside] I dare be sworn, is as ignorant as your lordship. Y. Lord W. That I will; but, my masters, this much I'll say unto you—if so be this quarrel may be taken up peaceably without the endangering of my own person, well and good: otherwise I will not meddle therewith, for I have been vexed late enough already. Had. Why then, my lord, if it please you, let me, being your inferior, decree the cause between them. Y. Lord W. I do give leave or permit. Had. Then thus I will propound a reasonable motion; how many cuffs, Peter, did this gentleman out of his fury make thee partaker of. P. Ser. Three, at the least, sir. Had. All which were bestowed upon you for beginning first, Peter. P. Ser. Yes, indeed, sir. Had. Why then, hear the sentence of your suffering. You shall both down into Master Hog's cellar, Peter; and whereas you began first to him, so shall he there to you; and as he gave you three cuffs, so shall you retort off, in defiance of him, three black-jacks, which if he deny to pledge, then the glory is thine, and he accounted by the wise discretion of my lord here a flincher. Omnes. A reasonable motion. Y. Lord W. Why so; this is better than being among madmen yet. Had. Were you so lately with any, my lord? Y. Lord W. Yes, faith; I'll tell you all in the cellar, how I was taken for an ambassador; and being no sooner in the house, but the madman Had. By Lady, and 'twas to be fear'd; but come, my lord, we'll hear the rest in the cellar. |
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