Parasitaster, Or The Fawne, As It Hath Bene Divers times presented at the blacke Friars, by the Children of the Queenes Maiesties Reuels. Written by Iohn Marston. At London Printed by T. P. for W. C. 1606. 4to. Parasitaster, Or The Fawne, As It Hath Bene Divers Times Presented at the blacke Friars, by the Children of the Queenes Maiesties Reuels, and since at Powles. Written by Iohn Marston. And now corrected of many faults, which by reason of the Author’s absence, were let slip in the first edition. At London Printed by T. P. for W. C. 1606. 4to. STORY OF THE PLAY. Hercules, the widowed Duke of Ferrara, is anxious that his son Tiberio should marry Dulcimel, daughter of Gonzago, Duke of Urbin; but, finding that he cannot persuade his son to marriage, he declares that he will himself marry Dulcimel. Tiberio is sent to the Court of Urbin to negotiate on his father’s behalf. Hercules follows in disguise to watch the issue, and attaches himself (under the name of Faunus) to Tiberio’s train at Urbin, where by adroit flattery he quickly gains the favour of Gonzago and the confidence of the courtiers. Dulcimel falls in love with Tiberio, and determines to make him her husband. She imposes on her father, Gonzago, a weak-minded lord with a boundless belief in his own wisdom, by a pretended discovery of Tiberio’s love to her; and Gonzago, acting throughout under the impression that he is foiling Tiberio, becomes in the hands of his witty daughter the instrument by which her project is accomplished. Taxed by Gonzago with having made love to Dulcimel, Tiberio warmly denies the charge, but at length he perceives that the lady is making amorous advances, and his blood is fired. In the courtyard of the palace grew a plane-tree by which it was possible to ascend to the window of Dulcimel’s bedchamber. Dulcimel informs her father that Tiberio intended to climb the plane-tree at night and enter her chamber, and that he had asked her to have a priest to be in readiness to conduct the marriage service. Gonzago upbraids Tiberio with his perfidy, and commands him to leave the court before the next morning. Tiberio asks for an explanation, and Gonzago then repeats what his daughter had said. Tiberio is not slow to avail himself of Dulcimel’s invitation; he mounts the plane-tree, the priest is ready, and the marriage is consummated. Gonzago’s chagrin is changed to satisfaction when Hercules, putting off his disguise, expresses his approval of the match. Much of the play is devoted to an exposure of the faults and follies of Gonzago’s courtiers. At the close of the fifth act there is holden a court of Cupid, at which the delinquents are arraigned. TO THE EQUAL READER. I have ever more endeavoured to know myself, than to be known of others; and rather to be unpartially beloved of all, than factiously to be admired of a few; yet so powerfully have I been enticed with the delights of poetry, and (I must ingeniously[115] confess) above better desert so fortunate in the stage-pleasings, that (let my resolutions be never so fixed to call mine eyes into myself) I much fear that most lamentable death of him, “Qui nimis notus omnibus,
Ignotus moritur sibi.”—Seneca.[116] But since the over-vehement pursuit of these delights hath been the sickness of my youth, and now is grown to be the vice of my firmer age—since to satisfy others, I neglect myself—let it be the courtesy of my peruser rather to pity my self-hindering labours than to malice[117] me; and let him be pleased to be my reader, and not my interpreter, since I would fain reserve that office in my own hands, it being my daily prayer:—“Absit[118] a jocorum nostrorum simplicitate malignus interpres.”—Martial. If any shall wonder why I print a comedy, whose life rests much in the actor’s voice, let such know that it cannot avoid publishing; let it therefore stand with good excuse that I have been my own setter out. If any desire to understand the scope of my comedy, know it hath the same limits which Juvenal gives to his Satires:— “Quicquid agunt homines, votum, timor, ira, voluptas,
Gaudia, discursus, nostri farrago libelli est.”—Juvenal. As for the factious malice and studied detractions of some few that tread in the same path with me, let all know I most easily neglect them, and (carelessly slumbering to their vicious endeavours) smile heartily at their self-hurting baseness. My bosom friend, good Epictetus, makes me easily to contemn all such men’s malice: since other men’s tongues are not within my teeth, why should I hope to govern them? For mine own interest for once, let this be printed,—that of men of my own addiction I love most, pity some, hate none; for let me truly say it, I once only loved myself, for loving them, and surely I shall ever rest so constant to my first affection, that let their ungentle combinings, discourteous whisperings, never so treacherously labour to undermine my unfenced reputation, I shall (as long as I have being) love the least of their graces, and only pity the greatest of their vices. And now, to kill envy, know you, that affect to be the only minions of Phoebus, I am not so blushlessly ambitious as to hope to gain any the least supreme eminency among you; I affect not only the “‘Euge’ tuum et ‘Belle!’”[119]—’tis not my fashion to think no writer virtuously confident that is not swellingly impudent; nor do I labour to be held the only spirit whose poems may be thought worthy to be kept in cedar[120] chests:— “Heliconidasque pallidamque Pyrenen
Illis relinquo quorum imagines lambunt
HederÆ sequaces....”—Persius. He that pursues fame shall, for me, without any rival, have breath enough. I esteem felicity to be a more solid contentment; only let it be lawful for me, with unaffected modesty and full thought, to end boldly with that of Persius:— “Ipse semipaganus
Ad sacra vatum carmen affero nostrum.”—Persius. JO. MARSTON. TO THE READER.[121] Reader, know I have perused this copy, to make some satisfaction for the first faulty impression; yet so urgent hath been my business that some errors have still passed, which thy discretion may amend. Comedies are writ to be spoken, not read; remember the life of these things consists in action; and for such courteous survey of my pen, I will present a tragedy[122] to you, which shall boldly abide the most curious perusal.
PROLOGUS. Let those once know that here with malice lurk,
’Tis base to be too wise in others’ work;
The rest sit thus saluted:—
Spectators, know you may, with freest faces,
Behold this scene; for here no rude disgraces
Shall taint a public or a private name;
This pen at viler rate doth value fame,
Than at the price of others’ infamy
To purchase it. Let others dare the rope,
Your modest pleasure is our author’s scope. 10
The hurdle and the rack to them he leaves
That have naught left to be accompted any,
But by not being; nor doth he hope to win
Your louder hand with that most common sin
Of vulgar pens, rank bawdry, that smells
Even through your masks, usque ad nauseam.
The Venus of this scene doth loathe to wear
So vile, so common, so immodest clothings;
But if the nimble form of comedy,
Mere spectacle of life and public manners, 20
May gracefully arrive to your pleased ears,
We boldly dare the utmost death of fears;
For we do know that this most fair-fill’d room
Is loaden with most attic judgments, ablest spirits,
Than whom there are none more exact, full, strong,
Yet none more soft, benign in censuring.
I know there’s not one ass in all this presence—
Not one calumnious rascal, or base villain
Of emptiest merit—that would tax and slander,
If innocency herself should write, not one we know’t. 30
O you are all the very breath of Phoebus;
In your pleas’d gracings all the true lifeblood
Of our poor author lives,—you are his very grace.
Now if that any wonder why he’s drawn
To such base soothings, know his play’s—The Fawn.[123] DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. Hercules, Duke of Ferrara, disguised as Faunus.
Gonzago, Duke of Urbin, a weak lord of a self-admiring wisdom.
Tiberio, son to Hercules.
Granuffo, a silent lord.
Don Zuccone, a causelessly jealous lord.
Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso, a sickly knight.
Herod Frappatore, brother to Sir Amoroso.
Nymphadoro, a young courtier and a common lover.
Dondolo, a bald fool.
Renaldo, brother to Hercules. Dulcimel, daughter to Gonzago.
Philocalia, an honourable learned lady, companion to the Princess Dulcimel.
Donna Zoya, a virtuous, fair, witty lady, wife to Don Zuccone.
Donna Garbetza, wife to Sir Amoroso.
Poveia, and
Donnetta, two ladies, attendants on Dulcimel.
Puttotta, a poor laundress of the court that washeth and diets footmen.
Pages. Scene—Urbin. THE FAWN.
SCENE I. Neighbourhood of Urbin. Enter Hercules[125] and Renaldo. Herc. See, yonder’s Urbin! Those far-appearing spires rise from the city. You shall conduct me no further: return to Ferrara: my dukedom, by your care in my absence, shall rest constantly united, and most religiously loyal.Ren. My prince and brother, let my blood and love Challenge the freedom of one question. Herc. You have’t. Ren. Why, in your steadier age, in strength of life
And firmest wit of time, will you break forth 10
Those stricter limits of regardful state
(Which with severe distinction you still kept),
And now to unknown dangers you’ll give up
Yourself, Ferrara’s duke, and in yourself
The state and us? O, my loved brother!
Honour avoids not only just defame,
But flies all means that may ill voice his name. 17 Herc. Busy yourself with no fears, for I shall rest most wary of our safety; only some glimpses I will give you for your satisfaction why I leave Ferrara. I have vowed to visit the court of Urbin in some disguise, as thus: my son, as you can well witness with me, could I never persuade to marriage, although myself was then an ever-resolved widower, and tho’ I proposed to him this very lady, to whom he is gone in my right to negotiate; now, how[126] cooler blood will behave itself in this business, would I have an only testimony; other contents shall I give myself, as not to take love by attorney, or make my election out of tongues; other sufficings there are which my regard would fain make sound to me: something of much you know; that, and what else you must not know, bids you excuse this kind of my departure. 33 Ren. I commend all to your wisdom, and yours to the Wisest. Herc. Think not but I shall approve that more than folly which even now appears in a most ridiculous expectation: be in this assured,—The bottom of gravity is nothing like the top. Once more, fare you well. [Exit Renaldo. And now, thou ceremonious sovereignty— 40
Ye proud, severer, stateful compliments,
The secret arts of rule—I put you off;
Nor ever shall those manacles of form
Once more lock up the appetite of blood.
’Tis now an age of man whilst we, all strict,
Have lived in awe of carriage regular,
Apted unto my place; nor hath my life
Once tasted of exorbitant affects,
Wild longings, or the least of disrank’d shapes.
But we must once be wild; ’tis ancient truth,— 50
O fortunate, whose madness falls in youth!
Well, this is text, who ever keeps his place
In servile station, is all low and base.
Shall I, because some few may cry, “Light! vain!”
Beat down affection from desirÈd rule?
He that doth strive to please the world’s a fool.
To have that fellow cry, “O mark him, grave,
See how austerely he doth give example
Of repressed heat and steady life!”
Whilst my forced life against the stream of blood 60
Is tugg’d[127] along, and all to keep the god
Of fools and women, nice Opinion,
Whose strict preserving makes oft great men fools,
And fools oft[128] great men. No, thou world, know thus,
There’s nothing free but it is generous. [Exit. SCENE II. Palace of the Duke of Urbin. Enter Nymphadoro, Herod, and Page. Herod. How now, my little more than nothing, what news is stirring? Page. All the city’s a-fire! Nym. On fire? Page. With joy of the Princess Dulcimel’s birthday: there’s show upon show; sport upon sport. Herod. What sport? what sport? Page. Marry, sir, to solemnise the princess’ birthday. There’s first, crackers, which run into the air, and when they are at the top, like some ambitious strange heretic, keep a cracking and a cracking, and then break, and down they come. 12 Herod. A pretty crab; he would yield tart juice and he were squeez’d. Nym. What sport else? Page. Other fireworks. Herod. Spirit of wine, I cannot tell how these fireworks should be good at the solemnising the birth of men or women. I am sure they are dangerous at their begetting. What, more fireworks, sir? 20 Page. There be squibs, sir; which squibs, running upon lines,[129] like some of our gaudy gallants, sir, keep a smother, sir, with flishing and flashing, and, in the end, sir, they do, sir—— Nym. What, sir? Page. Stink, sir. Herod. ’Fore Heaven, a most sweet youth! Enter Dondolo. Don. News! news! news! news! Herod. What, in the name of prophecy? Nym. Art thou grown wise? 30 Herod. Doth the duke want no money? Nym. Is there a maid found at twenty-four?Herod. Speak, thou three-legg’d tripos, is thy ship of fools,[130] afloat yet? Don. I ha’ many things in my head to tell you. Herod. Ay, thy head is always working; it rolls, and it roils, Dondolo, but it gathers no moss, Dondolo. Don. Tiberio, the Duke of Ferrara’s son, excellently horsed, all upon Flanders mares, is arrived at the court this very day, somewhat late in the night-time. 40 Herod. An excellent nuntius. Don. Why, my gallants, I have had a good wit. Herod. Yes, troth, but now ’tis grown like an almanac for the last year—past date; the mark’s out of thy mouth, Dondolo. Nym. And what’s the prince’s ambassage? Thou art private with the duke; thou belongest to his close-stool. Don. Why, every fool knows that; I know it myself, man, as well as the best man: he is come to solicit a marriage betwixt his father, the Duke of Ferrara, and our Duke of Urbin’s daughter, Dulcimel. 51 Nym. Pity of my passions! Nymphadoro shall lose one of his mistresses. Herod. Nay, if thou hast more than one, the loss can ne’er be grievous, since ’tis certain he that loves many formally, never loves any violently. Nym. Most trusted Frappatore, is my hand the weaker because it is divided into many fingers? No, ’tis the more strongly nimble. I do now love threescore and nine ladies, all of them most extremely well, but I do love the princess most extremely best; but, in very sighing sadness, I ha’ lost all hope, and with that hope a lady that is most rare, most fair, most wise, most sweet, most—— 64 Herod. Anything; true, but remember, still this fair, this wise, this sweet, this all-of-excellency, has in the tail of all—a woman. Nym. Peace! the presence fills against the prince approacheth. Mark who enters. Herc. My brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso. 70 Nym. Not he. Herc. No, not he? Nym. How, is he changed? Herc. Why, grown the very dregs of the drabs’ cup. Nym. O Babylon, thy walls are fallen! Is he married? Herc. Yes; yet still the ladies’ common—or the common ladies’—servant. Nym. How does his own lady bear with him? Herc. Faith, like the Roman Milo, bore with him when he was a calf, and now carries him when he’s grown an ox. 81 Nym. Peace! the duke’s at hand. Cornets. Enter Gonzago, Granuffo, Dulcimel, Philocalia, Zoya. Gon. Daughter, for that our last speech leaves the firmest print, be thus advised. When young Tiberio negotiates his father’s love, hold heedy guard over thy passions, and still keep this full thought firm in thy reason: ’tis his old father’s love the young man moves (is’t not well thought, my lord, we must bear brain[131]), and when thou shalt behold Tiberio’s lifeful eyes and well-fill’d veins, complexion firm, and hairs that curls with strength of lusty moisture (I think we yet can speak, we ha’ been eloquent), thou must shape thy thoughts to apprehend his father well in years— 93
A grave wise prince, whose beauty is his honour,
And well-pass’d life; and do not give thy thoughts
Least liberty to shape a diverse scope
(My Lord Granuffo, pray ye note my phrase):
So shalt thou not abuse thy younger hope,
Nor afflict us, who only joy in life,
To see thee his. Dul. Gracious my father, fear not; 100
I rest most duteous to your dispose. [Consort of music. Gon. Set on then; for the music gives us notice
The prince is hard at hand. Tiberio with his train, with Hercules disguised. Dul. You are most welcome to our long-desiring father. To us you are come—— Tib. From our long-desiring father. Dul. Is this your father’s true proportion? [Shows a picture. Tib. No, lady; but the perfect counterfeit. Dul. And the best graced—— Tib. The painter’s art could yield. Dul. I wonder he would send a counterfeit
To move our love! 110 Gon. Hear, that’s my wit, when I was eighteen old—such a pretty toying wit had I; but age hath made us wise. Hast not, my lord? Tib. Why, fairest princess, if your eye dislike
That deader piece, behold me his true form
And livelier image. Such my father hath been. Dul. My lord, please you to scent this flower. Tib. ’Tis withered, lady—the flower’s scent is gone. Dul. This hath been such as you are—hath been, sir.
They say, in England, that a far-famed[132] friar 120
Had girt the island round with a brass wall,
If[133] they could ha’ catched Time is: but Time is past
Left it still[134] clipt with agÈd Neptune’s arm. Tib. Aurora yet keeps chaste old Tithon’s bed. Dul. Yet blushes at it when she rises. Gon. Pretty, pretty—just like my younger wit—you know it, my lord. Dul. But is your father’s age thus fresh—hath yet his head so many hairs? Tib. More, more, by many a one. 130 Dul. More, say you? Tib. More.Dul. Right, sir, for this hath none. Is his eye so quick as this same piece makes him show? Tib. The courtesy of art hath given more life to that part than the sad cares of state would grant my father. Dul. This model speaks about forty. Tib. Then doth it somewhat flatter, for our father hath seen more years, and is a little shrunk from the full strength of time. 140 Gon. Somewhat coldly praised. Dul. Your father hath a fair solicitor,
And be it spoke with virgin modesty,
I would he were no elder; not that I do fly
His side for years, or other hopes of youth,
But in regard the malice of lewd tongues,
Quick to deprave[135] on possibilities
(Almost impossibilities), will spread
Rumours to honour dangerous. [Dulcimel and Tiberio confer privately. Gon. What? whisper? Ay, my Lord Granuffo, ’twere fit 150
To part their lips. Men of discerning wit
That have read Pliny can discourse or so;
But give me practice: well experienced age
Is the true Delphos. I am no oracle,
But yet I’ll prophesy. Well, my Lord Granuffo,
’Tis fit to interrupt their privacy,
Is’t not, my lord? Now, sure, thou art a man
Of a most learned silence, and one whose words
Have been most precious to me. Right, I know thy heart;
’Tis true, thy legs discourse with right and grace, 160
And thy tongue is constant.—Fair my lord,
Forbear all[136] private closer conference;
What from your father comes, comes openly,
And so must speak: for you must know my age
Hath seen the beings and the quid of things:
I know the dimensions and the termini
Of all existence. Sir, I know what shapes
Appetite forms; but policy and states
Have more elected ends: your father’s suit
Is with all public grace received, and private love 170
Embraced. As for our daughter’s bent of mind,
She must seem somewhat nice; ’tis virgins’ kind
To hold long out; if yet she chance deny,
Ascribe it to her decent modesty.
We have been a philosopher and spoke
With much applause; but now age makes us wise,
And draws our eyes to search the heart of things
And leave vain seemings; therefore you must know
I would be loath the gaudy shape of youth
Should once[137] provoke a[138] not-allow’d-of heat, 180
Or hinder, or——for, sir, I know; and so,
Therefore, before us time and place affords
Free speech, else not. Wise heads use but few words:
In short breath, know the Court of Urbin holds
Your presence and your embassage so dear,
That we want means once to express[139] our heart
But with our heart. Plain meaning shunneth art;
You are most welcome (Lord Granuffo, a trick,
A figure, note); we use no rhetoric. [Exeunt all but Hercules, Nymphadoro, and Herod. Herod. Did not Tiberio call his father fool? 190 Nym. No; he said years had weakened his youthful quickness. Herod. He swore he was bald? Nym. No; but not thick-hair’d. Herod. By this light, I’ll swear he said his father had the hipgout, the strangury, the fistula in ano, and a most unabideable breath, no teeth, less eyes, great fingers, little legs, an eternal flux, and an everlasting cough of the lungs. Nym. Fie, fie! by this light he did not. 200 Herod. By this light he should ha’ done then. Horn on him, threescore and five, to have and to hold a lady of fifteen. O Mezentius! a tyranny equal if not above thy torturing; thou didst bind the living and the dead bodies together, and forced them so to pine and rot; but this cruelty binds breast to breast not only different bodies, but, if it were possible, most unequal minds together, with an enforcement even scandalous to Nature. Now the jail deliver me an intelligencer! be good to me, ye cloisters of bondage! Of whence art thou? 210Herc. Of Ferrara. Herod. A Ferrarese! what to me? Camest thou in with the Prince Tiberio? Herc. With the Prince Tiberio. What o’[140] that? You will not rail at me, will you? Herod. Who, I? I rail at one of Ferrara—a Ferrarese?[141] No. Didst thou ride? Herc. No. Herod. Hast thou worn socks? Herc. No. 220 Herod. Then blessed be the most happy gravel betwixt thy toes! I do prophesy thy tyrannising itch shall be honourable, and thy right worshipful louse shall appear in full presence. Art thou an officer to the prince?[142] Herc. I am; what o’ that? Herod. My cap! what officer? Herc. Yeoman of his bottles. What to that? Herod. My lip! thy name, good yeoman of the bottles? 230 Herc. Faunus. Nym. Faunus? an old courtier? I wonder thou art in no better clothes and place, Faunus! Herc. I may be in better place, sir, and with them[143] of more regard, if this match of our duke’s intermarriage with the heir of Urbin proceed, the Duke of Urbin dying, and our lord coming in his lady’s right of title to your dukedom. 238 Herod. Why then shalt thou, O yeoman of the bottles, become a maker of magnificoes. Thou shalt beg some odd suit, and change thy old shirt,[144] pare thy beard, cleanse thy teeth, and eat apricocks,[145] marry a rich widow, or a crack’d lady, whose case thou shalt make good. Then, my Pythagoras, shall thou and I make a transmigration of souls: thou shalt marry my daughter, or my wife shall be thy gracious mistress. Seventeen punks shall be thy proportion. Thou shalt beg to thy comfort of clean linen, eat no more fresh beef at supper, or save[146] the broth for next day’s porridge; but the fleshpots of Egypt shall fatten thee, and the grasshopper shall flourish in thy summer. 251 Nym. And what dost thou think of the duke’s overture of marriage? Herod. What do you think? Herc. May I speak boldly as at Aleppo? Nym. Speak till thy lungs ache, talk out thy teeth; here are none of those cankers, these mischiefs of society, intelligencers, or informers, that will cast rumour into the teeth of some LÆlius Balbus,[147] a man cruelly eloquent and bloodily learned. No; what sayest thou, Faunus? 261 Herc. With an undoubted breast thus:—I may speak boldly? Herod. By this night,[148] I’ll speak broadly first, and thou wilt, man. Our Duke of Urbin is a man very happily mad, for he thinks himself right perfectly wise, and most demonstratively learned—nay, more—— Herc. No more—I’ll on. Methinks the young lord our Prince of Ferrara so bounteously adorned with all of grace, feature, and best shaped proportion, fair use of speech, full opportunity, and that which makes the sympathy of all, equality of heat, of years, of blood; methinks these loadstones should attract the metal of the young princess rather to the son than to the noisome, cold, and most weak side of his half-rotten father. 276 Herod. Tha’rt ours—tha’rt ours. Now dare we speak as boldly as if Adam had not fallen, and made us all slaves. Hark ye, the duke is an arrant doting ass—an ass—and in the knowledge of my very sense, will turn a foolish animal; for his son will prove like one of Baal’s priests, have all the flesh presented to the idol his father, but he in the night will feed on’t—will devour it.[149] He will, yeoman of the bottles, he will. 285 Herc. Now, gentlemen, I am sure the lust of speech hath equally drenched us all; know I am no servant to this Prince Tiberio. Herod. Not? Herc. Not, but one to him out of some private urging most vowed—one that pursues him but for opportunity of safe[150] satisfaction. Now, if ye can prefer my service to him, I shall rest yours wholly. 293 Herod. Just in the devil’s mouth! thou shalt have place! Fawn, thou shalt! Behold this generous Nymphadoro, a gallant of clean boot, straight back, and beard[151] of a most hopeful expectation. He is a servant of fair Dulcimel’s, her very creature, born to the princess’ sole adoration; a man so spent in time to her, that pity (if no more of grace) must follow[152] him when we have gained the room. Second his suit, Faunus;[153] I’ll be your intelligencer. 302 Herc. Our very heart, and, if need be, work[154] to most desperate ends. Herod. Well urged. Herc. Words fit acquaintance, but full actions friends. Nym. Thou shalt not want, Faunus. Herc. You promise well. Herod. Be thou but firm, that old doting iniquity of age—that horny-eyed[155] lecherous duke, thy lord—shall be baffled to extremest derision; his son prove his fool father’s own issue. 312Nym. And we, and thou with us, blessed and enriched past all misery of possible contempt, and above the hopes of greatest conjectures. Herc. Nay, as for wealth, vilia miretur vulgus.[156] I know by his physiognomy, for wealth he is of my addiction, and bids a fico[157] for’t. Nym. Why, thou art but a younger brother: but poor Baldazozo. 320 Herod. Faith, to speak truth, my means are written in the book of fate, as yet unknown: and yet[158] I am at my fool, and my hunting gelding. Come, Via,[159] to this feastful entertainment. [Exeunt. Remanet Hercules. Herc. I never knew till now how old I was.
By Him by whom we are, I think a prince,
Whose tender sufferance never felt a gust
Of bolder breathings, but still lived gently fann’d
With the soft gales of his own flatterers’ lips,
Shall never know his own complexion. 330
Dear sleep and lust, I thank you; but for you,
Mortal till now I scarce had known myself.
Thou grateful poison, sleek mischief, flattery,
Thou dreamful slumber (that doth fall on kings
As soft and soon[160] as their first holy oil),
Be thou for ever damn’d; I now repent
Severe indictions to some sharp styles;
Freeness, so’t grow not to licentiousness,
Is grateful to just states. Most spotless kingdom,
And men, O happy born under good stars, 340
Where what is honest you may freely think,
Speak what you think, and write what you do speak,
Not bound to servile soothings! But since our rank
Hath ever been afflicted with these flies
(That blow corruption on the sweetest virtues),
I will revenge us all upon you all
With the same stratagem we still are caught,
Flattery itself; and sure all know the sharpness
Of reprehensive language is even blunted
To full contempt. Since vice is now term’d fashion, 350
And most are grown to ill, even with defence
I vow to waste this most prodigious heat,
That falls into my age like scorching flames
In depth of numb’d December, in flattering all
In all of their extremest viciousness,
Till in their own lov’d race they fall most lame,
And meet full butt the close of Vice’s shame. [Exit. ACT II. SCENE I. A banqueting-hall. Herod and Nymphadoro with napkins in their hands, followed by Pages with stools and meat. Herod. Come, sir; a stool, boy! these court-feasts are to us servitors court-fasts—such scambling, such shift for to eat, and where to eat. Here a squire of low degree hath got the carcass of a plover, there pages of the chamber divide the spoils of a tatter’d pheasant; here the sewer[161] has friended a country gentleman with a sweet green goose, and there a young fellow that late has bought his office, has caught a woodcock by the nose, with cups full ever-flowing.[162] 9 Nym. But is not Faunus preferr’d with a right hand? Herod. Did you ever see a fellow so spurted up in a moment? He has got the right ear of the duke, the prince, princess, most of the lords, but all the ladies; why, he is become their only minion, usher, and supporter. Nym. He hath gotten more lov’d reputation of virtue, of learning, of all graces, in one hour, than all your snarling reformers have in—— Herod. Nay, that’s unquestionable; and, indeed, what a fruitless labour, what a filling of Danae’s[163] tub, is it become to inveigh against folly! Community takes away the sense, and example the shame. No, 22
Praise me these fellows, hang on their chariot wheel,
And mount with them whom Fortune heaves, nay, drives;
A stoical sour virtue seldom thrives.
Oppose such fortune, and then burst with those are pitied.
The[164] hill of Chance is paved with poor men’s bones,
And bulks of luckless souls, over whose eyes
Their chariot wheels must ruthless grate that rise. Enter Hercules, freshly suited. Nym. Behold that thing of most fortunate, most prosperous impudence,[165] Don Faunus himself. 31 Herod. Blessed and long-lasting be thy carnation ribbon, O man of more than wit, much more than virtue—of fortune! Faunus,[166] wilt eat any of a young spring sallet? Herc. Where did the herbs grow, my gallant, where did they grow? Herod. Hard by in the city here. Herc. No, I’ll none—I’ll eat no city herbs, no city roots; for here in the city a man shall have his excrements in his teeth again within four and twenty hours. I love no city sallets. Hast any canary? 42 Nym. How the poor snake wriggles with his sudden warmth! Herod. Here, Faunus, a health as deep as a female. [Herod drinks. Herc. ’Fore Jove! we must be more endear’d. Nym. How dost thou feel thyself now, Fawn? Herc. Very womanly, with my fingers. I protest I think I shall love you. Are you married? I am truly taken with your virtues. Are you married? 50 Herod. Yes. Herc. Why, I like you well for it. Herod. No, troth, Fawn, I am not married. Herc. Why, I like you better for it; ’fore heaven, I must love you! Herod. Why, Fawn, why? Herc. ’Fore heaven! you are blest with three rare graces—fine linen, clean linings, a sanguine complexion, and I am sure, an excellent wit, for you are a gentleman born. 60Herod. Thank thee, sweet Fawn; but why is clean linen such a grace, I prithee? Herc. O, my excellent and inward dearly-approved friend! What’s your name, sir? Clean linen is the first our life craves, and the last our death enjoys. Herod. But what hope rests for Nymphadoro? Thou art now within the buttons of the prince. Shall the duke his father marry the lady? Herc. ’Tis to be hoped not. Nym. That’s some relief as long as there’s hope. 70 Herc. But sure, sir, ’tis almost undoubted the lady will carry him. Nym. O pestilent air! is there no plot so cunning, no surmise so false, no way of avoidance? Herc. Hast thou any pity either of his passion or the lady’s years—a gentleman in the summer and hunting season of his youth, the lady met in the same warmth. Were’t not to be wept that such a sapless chafing-dish-using old dotard as the Duke of Ferrara, with his withered hand, should pluck such a bud, such a—oh, the life of sense! 81 Nym. Thou art now a perfect courtier of just fashion; good grace, canst not relieve us? Herc. Ha’ ye any money? Nym. Pish, Fawn, we are young gallants! Herc. The liker to have no money. But, my young gallants, to speak like myself, I must hug your humour. Why, look you, there is fate, destiny, constellations, and planets (which, though they are under nature, yet they are above women). Who hath read the book of chance? No, cherish your hope, sweeten your imaginations with thoughts of—ah! why, women are the most giddy, uncertain motions under heaven. ’Tis neither proportion of body, virtue of mind, amplitude of fortune, greatness of blood, but only mere chanceful appetite, sways them; which makes some one like a man, be it but for the paring of his nails. Via! as for inequality, art not a gentleman? 98 Nym. That I am; and my beneficence shall show it. Herc. I know you are, by that only word beneficence, which only speaks of the future tense (shall know it); but may I breathe in your bosoms? I only fear Tiberio will abuse his father’s trust, and so make your hopes desperate. Nym. How?—the prince? Would he only stood cross to my wishes, he should find me an Italian. Herc. How an Italian? 107 Herod. By thy aid an Italian; dear Faunus, thou art now wriggled into the prince’s bosom, and thy sweet hand should minister that nectar to him should make him immortal. Nymphadoro, in direct phrase, thou shouldst murder the prince, so revenge thine own wrongs, and be rewarded for that revenge. Herc. Afore the light of my eyes, I think I shall admire, wonder at you. What! ha’ ye plots, projects, correspondences, and stratagems? Why are not you in better place? 117 Enter Sir Amoroso. Who’s this? Herod. My eldest brother, Sir Amoroso Debile-Dosso.Herc. O, I know him! God bless thine eyes, sweet Sir Amoroso! A rouse—a vin de monte[167] to the health of thy chine,[168] my dear sweet signior! Sir Amor. Pardon me, sir; I drink no wine this spring. Herod. O no, sir; he takes the diet this spring always. Boy, my brother’s bottle. Sir Amor. ’Faith, Fawn, an odd unwholesome cold makes me still hoarse and rheumatic. 127 Herod. Yes, in troth, a paltry murr.[169] Last morning, he blew nine bones out of his nose with an odd unwholesome murr. How does my sister, your lady? What, does she breed? Herc. I perceive, knight, you have children. O! ’tis a blessed assurance of Heaven’s favour, and long-lasting name, to have many children. Sir Amor. But I ha’ none, Fawn, now. 135 Herc. O that’s most excellent—a right special happiness. He shall not be a drudge to his cradle, a slave to his child; he shall be sure not to cherish another’s blood, nor toil to advance, peradventure, some rascal’s lust. Without children, a man is unclogg’d, his wife almost a maid. Messallina, thou criedst out, O blessed barrenness! Why, once with child, the very Venus of a lady’s entertainment hath lost all pleasure. Sir Amor. By this ring, Faunus, I do hug thee with most passionate affection, and shall make my wife thank thee. 146 Herod. Nay, my brother grudgeth not at my probable inheritance. He means once to give a younger brother hope to see fortune. Nym. And yet I hear, Sir Amoroso, you cherish your loins with high art, the only engrosser of eringoes; prepared cantharides, cullisses[170] made of dissolved pearl and bruised amber; the pith of parkets,[171] and candied lamb-stones are his perpetual meats; beds made of the down under pigeons’ wings and goose-necks, fomentations, baths, electuaries, frictions, and all the nurses of most forcible excited concupiscence, he useth with most nice and tender industry. 158 Herc. Pish, Zoccoli! No, Nymphadoro, if Sir Amoroso would ha’ children, let him lie on a mattress, plow or thresh, eat onions, garlic, and leek porridge. Pharaoh and his council were mistaken; and their device to hinder the increase of procreation in the Israelites with enforcing them to much labour of body, and to feed hard, with beets, garlic, and onions (meat that make the original of man most sharp and taking), was absurd. No, he should have given barley bread, lettuce, melons, cucumbers, huge store of veal and fresh beef, blown up their flesh, held them from exercise, rolled them in feathers, and most surely seen them drunk once a day; then would they at their best have begotten but wenches, and in short their generation enfeebled to nothing. 172 Sir Amor. O, divine Faunus, where might a man take up forty pound in a commodity of garlic and onions? Nymphadoro, thine ear. Herc. Come, what are you fleering at? There’s some weakness in your brother you wrinkle at thus; come, prithee, impart; what? we are mutually incorporated, turn’d one into another, brued [sic] together. Come, I believe you are familiar with your sister, and it were known. Herod. Witch, Faunus, witch! Why, how dost dream I live? Is’t four score a year, think’st thou, maintains my geldings, my pages, foot-cloths, my best feeding, high play, and excellent company? No, ’tis from hence, from hence, I mint some four hundred pound a year. 185 Herc. Dost thou live like a porter, by the[172] back, boy? Herod. As for my weak-rein’d brother, hang him! He has sore shins. Damn him, heteroclite! his brain’s perished! His youth spent his fodder so fast on others’ cattle, that he now wants for his own winter. I am fain to supply, Fawn, for which I am supplied. Herc. Dost thou branch him, boy? Herod. What else, Fawn? 193 Herc. What else? Nay, ’tis enough. Why, many men corrupt other men’s wives, some their maids, others their neighbours’ daughters; but to lie with one’s brother’s wedlock,[173] O, my dear Herod, ’tis vile[174] and uncommon lust. Herod. ’Fore Heaven, I love thee to the heart! Well, I may praise God for my brother’s weakness, for I assure thee the land shall descend to me, my little Fawn. 201 Herc. To thee, my little Herod? O, my rare rascal, I do find more and more in thee to wonder at, for thou art, indeed—if I prosper, thou shalt know what. Who’s this?[175] Enter Don Zuccone. Herod. What! know you not Don Zuccone, the only desperately railing lord[176] at’s lady that ever was confidently melancholy—that egregious idiot, that husband of the most witty, fair (and be it spoken with many men’s true grief), most chaste Lady Zoya! But we have entered into a confederacy of afflicting him. 211 Herc. Plots ha’ you laid, inductions dangerous?[177] Nym. A quiet bosom to my sweet Don. Are you going to visit your lady? Zuc. What o’clock is’t? Is it past three? Herod. Past four, I assure you, sweet Don. Zuc. O, then, I may be admitted. Her afternoon’s private nap is taken. I shall take her napping. I hear there’s one jealous that I lie with my own wife, and begins to withdraw his hand. I protest, I vow,—and you will, on my knees I’ll take my sacrament on it,—I lay not with her this four years—this four years; let her not be turn’d upon me, I beseech you. 223 Herc. My dear Don! Zuc. O, Faunus, do’st know our lady? Herc. Your lady? Zuc. No, our lady. For the love of charity, incorporate with her; I would have all nations and degrees, all ages, know our lady; for I covet only to be undoubtedly notorious. 230 Herc. For indeed, sir, a repressed fame mounts like camomile[178]—the more trod down, the more it grows. Things known common and undoubted, lose rumour. Nym. I hope yet your conjectures may err. Your lady keeps full face, unbated roundness, cheerful aspect. Were she so infamously prostitute, her cheek would fall, her colour fade, the spirit of her eye would die. Zuc. O, young man, such women are like Danaus’ tub; and, indeed, all women are like Achelous,[179] with whom Hercules wrestling, he was no sooner hurl’d to the earth, but he rose up with double vigour. Their fall strengthened them. 242 Enter Dondolo. Don. News, news, news, news! O, my dear Don, be raised—be jovial[180]—be triumphant! Ah, my dear Don! Nym. To me first, in private, thy news, I prithee. Don. Will you be secret? Nym. O’ my life. Don. As you are generous? Nym. As I am generous. 250 Don. Don Zuccone’s lady’s with child. Herc. Nymph, Nymph, what is’t?—what’s the news? Nym. You will be secret? Herod. Silence itself. Nym. Don Zuccone’s lady’s with child apparently. Herc. Herod, Herod, what’s the matter, prithee? the news? Herod. You must tell nobody? Herc. As I am generous—— Herod. Don Zuccone’s lady’s with child apparently. Zuc. Fawn, what’s the whisper?—what’s the fool’s secret news? 262 Herc. Truth, my lord, a thing that—that—well, i’faith, it is not fit you know it: now[181]—now—now— Zuc. Not fit I know it? As thou art baptized, tell me—tell me. Herc. Will you plight your patience to it? Zuc. Speak, I am a very block. I will not be moved—I am a very block. Herc. But if you should grow disquiet (as, I protest, it would make a saint blaspheme), I should be unwilling to procure your impatience. 272 Zuc. Yes,[182] do! Burst me! burst me! burst me with longing! Herc. Nay, faith, ’tis no great matter! Hark ye, you’ll tell nobody? Zuc. Not. Herc. As you are noble? Zuc. As I am honest. Herc. Your lady-wife is[183] apparently with child. 280 Zuc. With child? Herc. With child. Zuc. Fool! Herc. My Don. Zuc. With child!—by the pleasure of generation, I proclaim I lay not with her this——Give us patience!—give us patience! Herc. Why? my lord, ’tis nothing to wear a forker.[184] Zuc. Heaven and earth! Herc. All things under the moon are subject to their mistress’ grace. Horns! Lend me your ring, my Don—I’ll put it on my finger. Now ’tis on yours again. Why is the gold now e’er the worse in lustre or fitness? 293 Zuc. Am I used thus? Herc. Ay, my lord, true. Nay, to be—(look ye, mark ye)—to be used like a dead ox—to have your own hide pluck’d on—to be drawn on with your own horn,—to have the lordship of your father, the honour of your ancestors, maugre your beard, to descend to the base lust of some groom of your stable, or the page of your chamber! 301 Zuc. O, Phalaris! thy bull! Sir Amor. Good Don, ha’ patience! you are not the only cuckold! I would now be separated. Zuc. ’Las! that’s but the least drop of the storm of my revenge! I will unlegitimate[185] the issue! What I will do shall be horrible but to think. Herc. But, sir—— Zuc. But, sir, I will do what a man of my form may do; and laugh on, laugh on, do Sir Amorous—you have a lady, too. 311 Herod. But, my sweet lord—— Zuc. Do not anger me, lest I most dreadfully curse thee, and wish thee married! O, Zuccone, spit white, spit thy gall out. The only boon I crave of Heaven is——But to have my honours inherited by a bastard! I will be most tyrannous—bloodily tyrannous in my revenge, and most terrible in my curses! Live to grow blind with lust, senseless with use, loathed after, flattered before, hated always, trusted never, abhorred ever! and last, may she live to wear a most foul smock seven weeks together, Heaven, I beseech thee! 322 [Exit. Enter Zoya and Poveia. Zoy. Is he gone?—is he blown off? Now; out upon him, insufferably jealous fool. Don. Lady! Zoy. Didst thou give him the famed report? Does he believe I am with child? Does he give faith? Don. In most sincerity, most sincerely. Zoy. Nay, ’tis a pure fool! I can tell ye he was bred up in Germany. 330 Nym. But the laughter rises, that he vows he lay not in your bed this four year, with such exquisite protestations. Zoy. That’s most full truth. He hath most unjustly severed his sheets ever since the old Duke Pietro (Heaven rest his soul!)—— Don. Fie! You may not pray for the dead; ’tis indifferent to them what you say. Nym. Well said, fool. Zoy. Ever since the old Duke Pietro, the great devil of hell torture his soul—— 341 Don. O, lady! yet charity! Zoy. Why? ’tis indifferent to them what you say, fool. But does my lord ravel out? does he fret? For pity of an afflicted lady, load him soundly; let him not go[186] clear from vexation: he has the most dishonourably, with the most sinful, most vicious obstinacy, persevered to wrong me, that, were I not of a male constitution, ’twere impossible for me to survive it; but in madness’ name, let him on. I ha’ not the weak sense[187] of some of your soft-eyed whimpering ladies, who, if they were used like me, would gall their fingers with wringing their hands, look like bleeding Lucreces, and shed salt water enough to powder all the beef in the duke’s larder. No, I am resolute Donna Zoya. Ha! that wives were of my metal! I would make these ridiculously jealous fools howl like a starved dog before he got a bit. I was created to be the affliction of such an unsanctified member, and will boil him in his own syrup. 359 Enter Zuccone, listening. Herc. Peace! the wolf’s ear takes the wind of us. Herod. The enemy is in ambush. Zoy. If any man ha’ the wit, now let him talk wantonly but not bawdily. Come, gallants, who’ll be my servants? I am now very open-hearted and full of entertainment. Herc. Grace me to call you mistress? Nym. Or me? Herod. Or me? Sir Amor. Or me? 368 Zoy. Or all! I am taken with you all—with you all. Herc. As, indeed, why should any woman only love any[188] one man, since it is reasonable women should affect all perfection,[189] but all perfection never rests in one man. Many men have many virtues, but ladies should love many virtues, therefore ladies should love many men; for as in women, so in men; some women hath only a good eye,—one can discourse beautifully, if she do not laugh,—one’s well-favoured to her nose,—another hath only a good brow,—t’other a plump lip,—a third only holds beauty to the teeth, and there the soil alters; some, peradventure, hold good to the breast, and then downward turn like the dreamt-of image,[190] whose head was gold, breast silver, thighs iron, and all beneath clay and earth; one only winks eloquently,—another only kisses well,—t’other only talks well,—a fourth only lies well; so, in men, one gallant has only a good face,—another has only a grave methodical beard, and is a notable wise fellow until he speaks,—a third only makes water well, and that’s a good provoking quality,—one only swears well,—another only speaks well,—a third only does well. All in their kind good: goodness is to be best affected, therefore they; it is a base thing, and indeed an impossible, for a worthy mind to be contented with the whole world, but most vile and abject to be satisfied with one point or prick[191] of the world. 394 Zoy. Excellent Faunus! I kiss thee for this, by this hand. Sir Amor. I thought as well: kiss me too, dear mistress.Zoy. No, good Sir Amoroso;[192] your teeth hath taken rust, your breath wants airing, and indeed I love sound kissing. Come, gallants, who’ll run a caranto, or leap a levalto? 401 Herc. Take heed, lady, from offending or bruising the hope of your womb. Zoy. No matter; now I ha’ the sleight, or rather the fashion of it, I fear no barrenness. Herc. O, but you know not your husband’s aptness. Zoy. Husband! husband! as if women could have no children without husbands. Nym. Ay, but then they will not be so like your husband. 410 Zoy. No matter, they’ll be like their father; ’tis honour enough to my husband that they vouchsafe to call him father, and that his land shall descend to them. (Does he not gnash his very teeth in anguish?) Like our husband? I had rather they were ungroan’d for. Like our husband?—prove such a melancholy jealous ass as he is? (Does he not stamp?) Nym. But troth, your husband has a good face. Zoy. Faith, good enough face for a husband. Come, gallants, I’ll dance to mine own whistle: I am as light now as——Ah! [she sings and dances]. A kiss to you, to my sweet free servants. Dream on me, and adieu. [Exit Zoya. Zuccone discovers himself. Zuc. I shall lose my wits. 423Herc. Be comforted, dear Don, you ha’ none to leese. Zuc. My wife is grown like a Dutch crest, always rampant, rampant: ’fore I will endure this affliction, I will live by raking cockles out of kennels; nay, I will run my country,—forsake my religion,—go weave fustians,—or roll the wheel-barrow at Rotterdam. Herc. I would be divorced, despite her friends, or the oath of her chamber-maid. 431 Zuc. Nay, I will be divorced, in despite of ’em all; I’ll go to law with her. Herc. That’s excellent; nay, I would go to law. Zuc. Nay, I will go to law. Herc. Why, that’s sport alone; what though it be most exacting? wherefore is money? Zuc. True, wherefore is money? 438 Herc. What, though you shall pay for every quill, each drop of ink, each minim, letter, tittle, comma, prick, each breath, nay, not only for thine own orator’s prating, but for some other orator’s silence,—though thou must buy silence with a full hand,—’tis well known Demosthenes[193] took above two thousand pound once only to hold his peace,—though thou a man of noble gentry, yet you must wait, and besiege his study door, which will prove more hard to be entered than old Troy, for that was gotten into by a wooden horse; but the entrance of this may chance cost thee a whole stock of cattle, oves et boves, et coetera pecora campi;—though then thou must sit there, thrust and contemned, bare-headed to a grograine scribe, ready to start up at the door creaking, press’d to get in, “with your leave, sir,” to some surly groom, the third son of a rope-maker:[194]—what of all this? 454 Zuc. To a resolute mind these torments are not felt. Herc. A very arrant ass, when he is hungry, will feed on, though he be whipt to the bones, and shall a very arrant ass, Zuccone, be more virtuously patient than a noble—— Don. No, Fawn, the world shall know I have more virtue than so—— 461 Herc. Do so, and be wise. Zuc. I will, I warrant thee: so I may be revenged, what care I what I do? Herc. Call a dog worshipful? Zuc. Nay, I will embrace,—nay, I will embrace a jakes-farmer, after eleven o’clock at night,—I will stand bare, and give wall to a bellows-mender,—pawn my lordship,—sell my foot-cloth,[195]—but I will be revenged. Does she think she has married an ass? 470 Herc. A fool? Zuc. A coxcomb? Herc. A ninny-hammer? Zuc. A woodcock? Herc. A calf?Zuc. No, she shall find that I ha’ eyes. Herc. And brain. Zuc. And nose. Herc. And forehead. Zuc. She shall, i’faith, Fawn; she shall, she shall, sweet Fawn; she shall, i’faith, old boy; it joys my blood to think on’t; she shall, i’faith. Farewell, loved Fawn; sweet Fawn, farewell: she shall, i’faith, boy. 483 [Exit Zuccone. Enter Gongazo and Granuffo with Dulcimel. Gon. We would be private, only Faunus stay; He is a wise fellow, daughter, a very wise fellow, for he is still just of my opinion. My Lord Granuffo, you may likewise stay, for I know you’ll say nothing. Say on, daughter. [Exeunt all but Gonzago, Granuffo, Hercules and Dulcimel. Dul. And as I told you, sir, Tiberio being sent,
Graced in high trust, as to negotiate 490
His royal father’s love, if he neglect
The honour of this faith, just care of state,
And every fortune that gives likelihood
To his best hopes, to draw our weaker heart
To his own love (as I protest he does)—— Gon. I’ll rate[196] the prince with such a heat of breath,
His ears shall glow; nay, I discover’d him;
I read his eyes, as I can read any[197] eye—
Tho’ it speak in darkest characters, I can;
Can we not, Fawn?—can we not, my lord? 500
Why, I conceive you now; I understand you both.
You both admire; yes, say is ’t not hit?
Though we are old, or so, yet we ha’ wit. Dul. And you may say (if so[198] your wisdom please,
As you are truly wise), how weak a creature
Soft woman is to bear the siege and strength
Of so prevailing feature and fair language,
As that of his is ever: you may add
(If so your wisdom please, as you are wise)—— Gon. As mortal man may be. Dul. I am of years 510
Apt for his love; and if he should proceed
In private urgent suit, how easy ’twere
To win my love: for you may say (if so
Your wisdom please) you find in me
A very forward passion to enjoy him,
And therefore you beseech him seriously
Straight to forbear, with such close-cunning art
To urge his too well gracÈd suit: for you
(If so your lordship please) may say I told you all. Gon. Go to, go to; what I will say, or so, 520
Until I say, none but myself shall know.
But I will say—Go to; does not my colour rise?
It shall rise; for I can force my blood
To come and go, as men of wit and state
Must sometimes feign their love, sometimes their hate.
That’s policy now; but come with this free heat,
Or this same Estro[199] or Enthusiasm
(For these are phrases both poetical);
Will we go rate the prince, and make him see
Himself in us; that is, our grace and wits 530
Shall show his shapeless folly,—vice kneels while virtue sits. Enter Tiberio. But see, we are prevented: daughter, in!
It is not fit thyself should hear what I
Must speak of thy most modest, wise, wise mind;
For th’art careful, sober, in all most wise,
And indeed our daughter. [Exit Dulcimel.] My Lord Tiberio,
A horse but yet a colt may leave his trot,
A man but yet a boy may well be broke
From vain addictions; the head of rivers stopp’d,
The channel dries; he that doth dread a fire, 540
Must put out sparks; and he who fears a bull,
Must cut his horns off when he is a calf.
Principiis obsta,[200] saith a learned man,
Who, though he was no duke, yet he was wise,
And had some sense or so. Tib. What means my lord? Gon.[201] La, sir! thus men of brain can speak in clouds,
Which weak eyes cannot pierce; but, my fair lord,
In direct phrase thus, my daughter tells me plain,
You go about with most direct entreats
To gain her love, and to abuse her father. 550
O, my fair lord, will you, a youth so blest
With rarest gifts of fortune and sweet graces,
Offer to love a young and tender lady;
Will you, I say, abuse your most wise father,
Who, tho’ he freeze in August, and his calves
Are sunk into his toes, yet may well wed our daughter,
As old as he in wit? Will you, I say
(For by my troth, my lord, I must be plain)?
My daughter is but young, and apt to love
So fit a person as your proper self, 560
And so she pray’d me tell you. Will you now
Entice her easy breast to abuse your trust,
Her proper honour, and your father’s hopes?
I speak no figures, but I charge you check
Your appetite and passions to our daughter,
Before it head, nor offer conference,
Or seek access, but by and before us.
What, judge you us as weak or as unwise?
No, you shall find that Venice duke has eyes;
And so think on’t. [Exeunt Gonzago and Granuffo. Tib. Astonishment and wonder! what means this?
Is the duke sober? Herc. Why, ha’ not you endeavour’d 572
Courses that only[202] seconded appetite,
And not your honour, or your trust of place?
Do you not court the lady for yourself? Tib. Fawn, thou dost love me. If I ha’ done so,
’Tis past my knowledge; and I prithee, Fawn,
If thou observ’st I do I know not what,
Make me to know it; for by the dear light,
I ha’ not found a thought that way. I apt for love?
Let lazy idleness, fill’d full of wine, 581
Heated with meats, high fed, with lustful ease,
Go dote on colour. As for me, why, death[203] o’ sense!
I court the lady? I was not born in Cyprus.
I love! when?—how?—whom? Think, let us yet keep
Our reason sound. I’ll think, and think, and sleep. [Exit. Herc. Amazed! even lost in wond’ring! I rest full
Of covetous expectation. I am left
As on a rock, from whence I may discern
The giddy sea of humour flow beneath, 590
Upon whose back the vainer bubbles float,
And forthwith break. O mighty flattery!
Thou easiest, common’st, and most grateful venom,
That poisons courts and all societies,
How grateful dost thou make me? Should one rail,
And come to fear[204] a vice, beware leg-rings
And the turn’d key on thee, when, if softer hand
Suppling a sore that itches (which should smart)—
Free speech gains foes, base fawnings steal the heart.
Swell, you imposthum’d members, till you burst, 600
Since ’tis in vain to hinder, on I’ll thrust;
And when in shame you fall, I’ll laugh from hence,
And cry, “So end all desperate impudence!”
Another’s court shall show me where and how
Vice may be cured, for now beside myself,
Possess’d with almost frenzy, from strong fervour
I know I shall produce things mere divine:
Without immoderate heat, no virtues shine.
For I speak strong, tho’ strange,—the dews that steep
Our souls in deepest thoughts are fury and sleep. 610 [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I. Palace of the Duke of Urbin. Enter Faunus and Nymphadoro. Nym. Faith, Fawn, ’tis my humour, the natural sin of my sanguine complexion. I am most enforcedly in love with all women, almost affecting them all with an equal flame. Herc. An excellent justice of an upright virtue: you love all God’s creatures with an unpartial affection. Nym. Right; neither am I inconstant to any one in particular. Herc. Tho’ you love all in general, true; for when you vow a most devoted love to one, you swear not to tender a most devoted love to another; and indeed why should any man over-love anything? ’Tis judgment for a man to love everything proportionably to his virtue: I love a dog with a hunting pleasure, as he is pleasurable in hunting; my horse, after a journeying easiness, as he is easy in journeying; my hawk, to the goodness of his wing; and my wench—— 17Nym. How, sweet Fawn, how? Herc. Why, according to her creation. Nature made them pretty, toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect creatures; even so I would in justice affect them, with a pretty, toying, idle, fantastic, imperfect affection; and as indeed they are only created for show and pleasure, so would I only love them for show and pleasure. Nym. Why, that’s my humour to the very thread; thou dost speak my proper thoughts. Herc. But, sir, with what possibility can your constitution be so boundlessly amorous as to affect all women, of what degree, form, or complexion soever? 29 Nym. I’ll tell thee: for mine own part I am a perfect Ovidian, and can with him affect all. If[205] she be a virgin, of a modest eye, shamefaced, temperate aspect, her very modesty inflames me, her sober blushes fires me; if I behold a wanton, pretty, courtly, petulant ape, I am extremely in love with her, because she is not clownishly rude, and that she assures her lover of no ignorant, dull, unmoving[206] Venus; be she sourly severe, I think she wittily counterfeits, and I love her for her wit; if she be learned, and censures poets, I love her soul, and for her soul her body; be she a lady of profess’d ignorance, oh, I am infinitely taken with her simplicity, as one assured to find no sophistication about her; be she slender and lean, she’s the Greek’s delight; be she thick and plump, she’s the Italian’s pleasure; if she be tall, she’s of a goodly form, and will print a fair proportion in a large bed; if she be short and low, she’s nimbly delightful, and ordinarily quick-witted; be she young, she’s for mine eye; be she old, she’s for my discourse, as one well knowing there’s much amiableness in a grave matron; but be she young or old, lean, fat, short, tall, white, red, brown, nay, even black, my discourse shall find reason to love her, if my means may procure opportunity to enjoy her. 53 Herc. Excellent, sir: nay, if a man were of competent means, were’t not a notable delight for a man to have for every month in that year? Nym. Nay, for every week of the month? Herc. Nay, for every day of the week? Nym. Nay, for every hour of that day? Herc. Nay, for every humour of a man in that hour, to have a several mistress to entertain him; as if he were saturnine, or melancholy, to have a black-haired, pale-faced, sallow, thinking mistress to clip him; if jovial and merry, a sanguine, light-tripping, singing,—indeed a mistress that would dance a[207] caranto as she goes to embrace him; if choleric, impatient, or ireful, to have a mistress with red hair, little ferret eyes, a lean cheek, and a sharp nose, to entertain him. And so of the rest. 68 Enter Donnetta. Nym. O, sir, this were too great ambition! Well, I love and am beloved of a great many; for I court all in the way of honour, in the trade of marriage, Fawn; but above all, I affect the princess,—she’s my utmost end. O, I love a lady whose beauty is joined with fortune, beyond all! yet one of beauty without fortune, for some uses; nay, one of fortune without beauty, for some ends; but never any that has neither fortune nor beauty, but for necessity; such a one as this is Donna Donnetta: here’s one has loved all the court just once over. Herc. O, this is the fair lady with the foul teeth! Nature’s hand shook when she was in making, for the red that should have spread her cheeks, Nature let fall upon her nose; the white of her chin slipp’d into her eyes; and the gray of her eyes leapt before his time into her hair; and the yellowness of her hair fell without providence into her teeth. 85 Nym. By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected; and I speak by way of protestation, I shall no longer wish to be than that your only affection shall rest in me, and mine only in you. Don. But if you shall love any other? 90 Nym. Any other? Can any man love any other that knows you,—the only perfection of your sex, and astonishment of mankind? Don. Fie! ye flatter me. Go, wear and understand my favour: this snail[’s] slow, but sure. Nym. This kiss! Don. Farewell! Nym. The integrity and only vow of my faith to you; ever urge your well-deserved requital to me. [Exit Donnetta. Enter Garbetza. Herc. Excellent! 100Nym. See, here’s another of—— Herc. Of your most only elected. Nym. Right, Donna Garbetza. Herc. O, I will acknowledge this is the lady made of cutwork, and all her body like a sand-box, full of holes, and contains nothing but dust. She chooseth her servants as men choose dogs, by the mouth; if they open well and full, their cry is pleasing. She may be chaste, for she has a bad face; and yet, questionless, she may be made a strumpet, for she is covetous. 110 Nym. By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected (and I speak it by way of protestation), I shall no longer wish to be than all your affections shall only rest in me, and all mine only in you. Herc. Excellent! this piece of stuff is good on both sides; he is so constant, he will not change his phrase. Gar. But shall I give faith? may you not love another? Nym. Another? Can any man love another that knows you,—the only perfection of your sex, and admiration of mankind? 120 Gar. Your speech flies too high for your meaning to follow, yet my mistrust shall not precede my experience: I wrought this favour for you. Nym. The integrity and only vow of my faith to you; ever urge your well-deserved requital to me. [Exit Garbetza. Herc. Why, this is pure wit, nay, judgment. Nym. Why, look thee, Fawn, observe me. Herc. I do, sir. Nym. I do love at this instant some nineteen ladies, all in the trade of marriage. Now, sir, whose father dies first, or whose portion appeareth most, or whose fortunes betters soonest, her with quiet liberty at my leisure will I elect; for[208] that’s my humour. 133 Enter Dulcimel and Philocalia. Herc. You profess a most excellent mystery, sir. Nym. ’Fore Heaven! see the princess—she that is—— Herc. Your most only elected, too? Nym. Oh! ay—oh! ay—but my hope’s faint yet.—By the vow of my heart, you are my most only elected and—— Dul. There’s a ship of fools going out! Shall I prefer thee, Nymphadoro? Thou mayst be master’s mate. My father hath made Dondolo captain, else thou shouldest have his place. 143 Nym. By Jove, Fawn, she speaks as sharply, and looks as sourly, as if she had been new squeezed out of a crab orange. Herc. How term you that lady with whom she holds discourse? Nym. O, Fawn, ’tis a lady even above ambition; and like the vertical sun, that neither forceth others to cast shadows, nor can others force or shade her. Her style is Donna Philocalia. 152 Herc. Philocalia! What! that renowmed[209] lady, whose ample report hath struck wonder into remotest strangers? and yet her worth above that wonder? She, whose noble industries hath made her breast rich in true glories and undying habilities? she, that whilst other ladies spend the life of earth, Time, in reading their glass, their jewels, and (the shame of poesy) lustful sonnets, gives her soul meditations—those meditations wings that cleave the air, fan bright celestial fires, whose true reflection makes her see herself and them? she whose pity is ever above her envy, loving nothing less than insolent prosperity, and pitying nothing more than virtue destitute of fortune? 164 Nym. There were a lady for Ferrara’s duke!—one of great blood, firm age, undoubted honour, above her sex, most modestly artful, tho’ naturally modest; too excellent to be left unmatch’d, tho’ few worthy to match with her. Herc. I cannot tell—my thoughts grow busy. 169 Phi. The princess would be private. Void the presence! [Exeunt. Dul. May I rest sure thou wilt conceal a secret? Phi. Yes, madam. Dul. How may I rest assured? Phi. Truly thus—do not tell it me. Dul. Why, canst thou not conceal a secret? Phi. Yes, as long as it is a secret, but when two know it, how can it be a secret? and, indeed, with what justice can you expect secrecy in me that cannot be private to yourself? 179 Dul. Faith, Philocalia, I must of force trust thy silence; for my breast breaks if I confer not my thoughts upon thee.Phi. You may trust my silence; I can command that; but if I chance to be questioned I must speak truth: I can conceal, but not deny my knowledge. That must command me. Dul. Fie on these philosophical discoursing women! Prithee confer with me like a creature made of flesh and blood, and tell me if it be not a scandal to the soul of all being, proportion, that I, a female of fifteen,[210] of a lightsome and civil discretion—healthy, lusty, vigorous, full, and idle—should for ever be shackled to the crampy shins of a wayward, dull, sour, austere, rough, rheumy threescore and four? 194 Phi. Nay, threescore and ten at the least. Dul. Now, Heaven bless me! as it is pity that every knave is not a fool, so it is shame that every old man is not, and resteth not, a widower. They say in China, when women are past child-bearing, they are all burnt to make gunpowder. I wonder what men should be done withal when they are past child-getting. Yet, upon my love, Philocalia (which with ladies is often above their honour), I do even dote upon the best part of the duke. Phi. What’s that? 204 Dul. His son; yes, sooth, and so love him, that I must marry him. Phi. And wherefore love him so, to marry him? Dul. Because I love him; and because he is virtuous I love to marry.Phi. His virtues! 210 Dul. Ay, with him, his virtues. Phi. Ay, with him! alas, sweet princess, love or virtue are not of the essence of marriage! Dul. A jest[211] upon your understanding! I’ll maintain that wisdom in a woman is most foolish quality. A lady of a good complexion, naturally well witted, perfectly bred, and well exercised in discourse of the best men, shall make fools of a thousand of these book-thinking creatures. I speak it by way of justification, I tell thee (look that nobody eavesdrop us),—I tell thee, I am truly learned, for I protest ignorance;[212] and wise, for I love myself; and virtuous enough for a lady of fifteen. 223 Phi. How virtuous? Dul. Shall I speak like a creature of a good healthful blood, and not like one of these weak, green sickness, lean, phthisic starvelings? First, for the virtue of magnanimity, I am very valiant, for there is no heroic action so particularly noble and glorious to our sex, as not to fall to action; the greatest deed we can do is not to do (look that nobody listen). Then am I full of patience, and can bear more than a sumpter-horse; for (to speak sensibly), what burthen is there so heavy to a porter’s back as virginity to a well-complexioned young lady’s thoughts? (Look no body hearken.) By this hand the noblest vow is that of virginity, because the hardest. I will have the prince. 237Phi. But by what means, sweet madam? Dul. O Philocalia, in heavy sadness and unwanton phrase, there lies all the brain-work. By what means! I could fall into a miserable blank verse presently! Phi. But, dear madam, your reason of loving him? Dul. Faith, only a woman’s reason, because I was expressly forbidden to love him. At the first view I liked him; and no sooner had my father’s wisdom mistrusted my liking, but I grew loth his judgment should err; I pitied he should prove a fool in his old age, and without cause mistrust me. 248 Phi. But, when you saw no means of manifesting your affection to him, why did not your hopes perish? Dul. O Philocalia! that difficulty only enflames me: when the enterprise is easy, the victory is inglorious. No, let my wise, aged, learned, intelligent father,—that can interpret eyes, understand the language of birds, interpret the grumbling of dogs and the conference of cats,—that can read even silence,—let him forbid all interviews, all speeches, all tokens, all messages, all (as he thinks) human means,—I will speak to the prince, court the prince, that he shall understand me;—nay, I will so stalk on the blind side of my all-knowing father’s wit, that, do what his wisdom can, he shall be my only mediator, my only messenger, my only honourable spokesman;—he shall carry my favours, he shall amplify my affection;—nay, he shall direct the prince the means, the very way to my bed;—he, and only he, when he only can do this, and only would not do this, he only shall do this. 267Phi. Only you shall then deserve such a husband. O love, how violent are thy passages! Dul. Pish, Philocalia! ’tis against the nature of love not to be violent. Phi. And against the condition of violence to be constant. Dul. Constancy?—constancy and patience are virtues in no living creatures but centinels and anglers. Here’s our father! Enter Gonzago, Hercules, and Granuffo. Gon. What, did he think to walk invisibly before our eyes? And he had Gyges’ ring I would find him. Herc. ’Fore Jove, you rated him with emphasis. Gon. Did we not shake the prince with energy? 280 Herc. With Ciceronian elocution? Gon. And most pathetic, piercing oratory? Herc. If he have any wit in him, he will make sweet use of it. Gon. Nay, he shall make sweet use of it ere I have done. Lord, what overweening fools these young men be, that think us old men sots! Herc. Arrant asses. Gon. Doting idiots, when we, God wot—ha, ha! ’las, silly souls! 290 Herc. Poor weak creatures, to men of approved reach. Gon. Full years. Herc. Of wise experience. Gon. And approved wit.Herc. Nay, as for your wit—— Gon. Count Granuffo, as I live, this Faunus is a rare understander of men—is a’ not? Faunus, this Granuffo is a right wise good lord, a man of excellent discourse and never speaks his signs to me, and men of profound reach instruct abundantly; he begs suits with signs, gives thanks with signs, puts off his hat leisurely, maintains his beard learnedly, keeps his lust privately, makes a nodding leg courtly, and lives happily. 303 Herc. Silence is an excellent modest grace, but especially before so instructing a wisdom as that of your excellency’s. As for his advancement, you gave it most royally, because he deserves it least duly, since to give to virtuous desert is rather a due requital than a princely magnificence, when to undeservingness it is merely all bounty and free grace. 310 Gon. Well spoke, ’tis enough. Don Granuffo, this Faunus is a very worthy fellow, and an excellent courtier, and beloved of most of the princes of Christendom, I can tell you; for howsoever some severer dissembler grace him not when he affronts him in the full face, yet, if he comes behind or on the one side, he’ll leer and put back his head upon him. Be sure, be you two precious to each other. Herc. Sir, myself, my family, my fortunes, are all devoted, I protest, most religiously to your service. I vow my whole self only proud in being acknowledged by you, but as your creature; and my only utmost ambition is by my sword or soul to testify how sincerely I am consecrated to your adoration. 324Gon. ’Tis enough; art a gentleman, Fawn? Herc. Not uneminently[213] descended; for were the pedigrees of some fortunately mounted, searched, they would be secretly found to be of the blood of the poor Fawn. 329 Gon. ’Tis enough; you two I love heartily; for thy silence never displeaseth me, nor thy speech ever offend me. See, our daughter attends us.—My fair, my wise, my chaste, my duteous, and indeed, in all, my daughter (for such a pretty soul for all the world have I been), what! I think we have made the prince to feel his error.
What! did he think he had weak fools in hand?
No, he shall find, as wisely said Lucullus,
Young men are fools that go about to gull us. 338 Dul. But sooth, my wisest father, the young prince is yet forgetful, and resteth resolute in his much-unadvised love. Gon. Is’t possible? Dul. Nay, I protest, what ere he feign to you (as he can feign most deeply)—— Gon. Right, we know it; for if you mark’d, he would not once take sense of any such intent from him. O impudence, what mercy canst thou look for! Dul. And as I said, royally wise and wisely royal father—— Gon. I think that eloquence is hereditary. 350 Dul. Tho’ he can feign, yet I presume your sense is quick enough to find him.Gon. Quick, is’t not, Granuffo?[214] Is’t not, Fawn? Why, I did know you feigned, nay, I do know (by the just sequence of such impudence) that he hath laid some second siege unto thy bosom, with most miraculous conveyances of some rich present on thee. Dul. O bounteous Heaven, how liberal are your graces to my Nestor-like father! Gon. Is’t not so, say? 360 Dul. ’Tis so, oraculous father; he hath now more than courted with bare phrases.
See, father, see, the very bane of honour,
Corruption of justice and virginity:
Gifts hath he left with me. O view this scarf;
This, as he call’d it, most enviÈd silk,
That should embrace an arm, or waist, or side,
Which he much fear’d should never—this he left,
Despite my much resistance. 369 Gon. Did he so? Give’t me. I’ll give’t him. I’ll regive his token with so sharp advantage. Dul. Nay, my worthy father, read but these cunning letters. Gon. Letters—where? [Reads. Prove you but justly loving, and conceive me,
Till justice leave the gods, I’ll never leave thee.
For tho’ the duke seem wise, he’ll find this strain,
Where two hearts yield consent, all thwarting’s vain.
And darest thou then aver this wicked writ?
O world of wenching wiles, where is thy wit? 380 Enter Tiberio. Dul. But other talk for us were far more fit, For, see, here comes the Prince Tiberio. Gon. Daughter, upon thy obedience, instantly take thy chamber. Dul. Dear father, in all duty, let me beseech your leave, that I may but—— Gon. Go to, go to! you are a simple fool, a very simple animal. Dul. Yet[215] let me (the loyal servant of simplicity)—— Gon. What would you do? What! are you wiser than your father?—will you direct me? 391 Dul. Heavens forbid such insolence! Yet let me denounce my hearty hatred. Gon. To what end? Dul. Tho’t be but in the prince’s ear (since fits not maiden’s blush to rail aloud). Gon. Go to, go to! Dul. Let me but check his heat. Gon. Well, well. Dul. And take him down, dear father, from his full pride of hopes. 401 Gon. So, so, I say once more, go in. [Exeunt Dulcimel and Philocalia. I will not lose the glory of reproof.
Is this the office of ambassadors,
My Lord Tiberio?
Nay, duty of a son; nay, piety of a man?—
(A figure call’d in art gradatio:
With some learned, Climax)—to court a royal lady
For’s master, father, or perchance his friend,
And yet intend the purchase of his beauty 410
To his own use? Tib. Your grace doth much amaze me. Gon. Ay, feign dissemble; ’las! we are now grown old, weak-sighted; alas! any one fools us. Tib. I deeply vow, my lord—— Gon. Peace, be not damn’d, have pity on your soul.
I confess, sweet prince, for you to love my daughter,
Young and witty,
Of equal mixture both of mind and body,
Is neither wondrous nor unnatural;
Yet to forswear and vow against one’s heart, 420
Is full of base, ignoble cowardice,
Since ’tis most plain, such speeches do contemn
Heaven and fear men (that’s sententious[216] now). Tib. My gracious lord, if I unknowingly have err’d. Gon. Unknowingly! can you blush, my lord?
Unknowingly! why, can you write these lines,
Present this scarf, unknowingly, my lord,
To my dear daughter? Um, unknowingly?
Can you urge your suit, prefer your gentlest love,
In your own right, to her too easy breast, 430
That, God knows, takes too much compassion on ye?
(And so she pray’d me say) unknowingly?
My lord, if you can act these things unknowingly,
Know we can know your actions so unknown;
For we are old, I will not say in wit
(For even[217] just worth must not approve itself);
But take your scarf, for she vows she’ll not wear it. Tib. Nay, but my lord—— Gon. Nay, but my lord, my lord,
You must take it, wear it, keep it,
For by the honour of our house and blood, 440
I will deal wisely, and be provident;
Your father shall not say I pandarised,
Or fondly wink’d at your affection;
No, we’ll be wise. This night our daughter yields
Your father’s answer; this night we invite
Your presence therefore to a feastful waking;
To-morrow to Ferrara you return,
With wishÈd answer to your royal father;
Meantime, as you respect our best relation
Of your fair bearing (Granuffo, is’t not good?)— 450
Of your fair bearing, rest more anxious—
(No, anxious is not a good word)—rest more vigilant
Over your passion, both forbear and bear,
Anechou e apechou[218] (that’s Greek to you now),
Else your youth shall find
Our nose not stuff’d, but we can take the wind
And smell you out—I say no more but thus—
And smell you out. What! ha’ we not our eyes,
Our nose and ears? What! are these hairs unwise?
Look to’t, quos ego,[219]— 460
(A figure called Aposiopesis or Increpatio). [Exeunt Gonzago and Granuffo. Tib. [reads the embroidered scarfs] Prove you but justly loving and conceive me,
Justice shall leave the gods before I leave thee:
Imagination prove as true as thou art sweet!
And tho’ the duke seem wise, he’ll find this strain,
When two hearts yield consent, all thwarting’s vain.
O quick, deviceful, strong-brain’d Dulcimel!
Thou art too full of wit to be a wife.
Why dost thou love? or what strong heat gave life
To such faint hopes? O woman! thou art made 470
Most only of, and for, deceit; thy form
Is nothing but delusion of our eyes,
Our ears, our hearts, and sometimes of our hands;
Hypocrisy and vanity brought forth,
Without male heat, thy most, most monstrous being.
Shall I abuse my royal father’s trust,
And make myself a scorn—the very food
Of rumour infamous? Shall I, that ever loath’d
A thought of woman, now begin to love
My worthy father’s right?—break faith to him 480
That got me, to get a faithless woman? Herc. True,
My worthy lord, your grace is verÈ pius. Tib. To take from my good father
The pleasure of his eyes and of his hands,
Imaginary solace of his fading life! Herc. His life, that only lives to your sole good! Tib. And myself good—his life’s most only end. Herc. Which, O! may never end! Tib. Yes, Fawn, in time. We must not prescribe to nature everything. There’s some end in everything. 490 Herc. But in a woman. Yet, as she is a wife, she is oftentimes the end of her husband. Tib. Shall I, I say—— Herc. Shall you, I say, confound your own fair hopes,
Cross all your course of life, make your self vain
To your once steady graveness, and all to second
The ambitious quickness of a monstrous love,
That’s only out of difficulty born,
And followed only for the miracle
In the obtaining? I would ha’ ye now 500
Tell her father all. Tib. Uncompassionate vild man!
Shall I not pity if I cannot love?
Or rather, shall I not for pity love
So wondrous wit in so most wondrous beauty,
That with such rarest art and cunning means
Entreats[220] what I (thing valueless) am not
Worthy to grant, my admiration?
Are fathers to be thought on in our loves? Herc. True, right, sir;
Fathers or friends, a crown and love hath none, 510
But are allied to themselves alone.
Your father, I may boldly say, he’s an ass
To hope that you’ll forbear to swallow
What he cannot chew; nay, ’tis injustice, truly,
For him to judge it fit that you should starve
For that which only he can feast his eye withal,
And not disgest.[221] Tib. O! Fawn, what man of so cold earth
But must love such a wit in such a body!
Thou last and only rareness of Heaven’s works,
From best of man made model of the gods! 520
Divinest woman, thou perfection
Of all proportion’s beauty, made when Jove was blithe—
Well filled with nectar, and full friends with man—
Thou dear as air, necessary as sleep
To careful man! Woman! O who can sin so deeply
As to be curs’d from knowing of the pleasures
Thy soft society, modest amorousness,
Yields to our tedious life!
Fawn, the duke shall not know this. Herc. Unless you tell him. But what hope can live in you, 530
When your short stay and your most shorten’d conference,
Not only actions, but even looks observ’d,
Cut off all possibilities of obtaining? Tib. Tush, Fawn,
To violence of women, love, and wit,
Nothing but not obtaining is impossible!
Notumque furens quid foemina possit. Herc. But then, how rest you to your father true? Tib. To him that only can give dues, she rests most due. [Exit. Herc. Even so. He that with safety would well lurk in courts 540
To best-elected ends, of force is wrung
To keep broad eyes, soft feet, long ears, and most short tongue;
For ’tis of knowing creatures the main art
To use quick hams, wide arms, and most close heart. ACT IV. SCENE I. Palace of the Duke of Urbin. Enter Hercules and Garbetza. Herc. Why, ’tis a most well-in-fashion affection, Donna Garbetza. Your knight, Sir Amorous, is a man of a most unfortunate back, spits white, has an ill breath; at three, after dinner, goes to the bath, takes the diet, nay, which is more, takes tobacco; therefore, with great authority, you may cuckold him. Gar. I hope so; but would that friend my brother discover me—would he wrong himself to prejudice me— Herc. No prejudice, dear Garbetza: his brother your husband, right; he cuckold his eldest brother, true; he gets her with child, just. 11 Gar. Sure there’s no wrong in right, true, and just? Herc. And, indeed, since the virtue of procreation growed hopeless in your husband, to whom should you rather commit your love and honour to, than him that is most like and near your husband, his brother? But are you assured your friend and brother rests entirely constant solely to you? Gar. To me? O Fawn, let me sigh it with joy into thy bosom, my brother has been wooed by this and that and t’other lady, to entertain them (for I ha’ seen their letters); but his vow to me, O Fawn! is most immutable, unfeigning, peculiar, and indeed deserved. 23 Enter Puttotta and a Page. Puttotta with a letter in her hand. Put. Never entreat me—never beseech me to have pity, forsooth, on your master, M.[222] Herod. Let him never be so daringly ambitious as to hope, with all his vows and protestations, to gain my affection! God’s my discretion! Has my sutlery, tapstry, laundry, made me be ta’en up at the court—preferr’d me to a husband; and have I advanced my husband, with the labour of mine own body, from the black-guard[223] to be one of the duke’s drummers, to make him one of the court forkers? Shall I, that purify many lords and some ladies, can tell who wears perfumes, who plasters, and for why, know who’s a gallant of a chaste shirt and[224] who not, shall I become—or dares your master think I will become—or if I would[225] become, presumes your master to hope I would become one of his common feminines? No, let M. Herod brag of his brother’s wife. I scorn his letters and her leavings at my heel—i’faith, and so tell him. 41 Pag. Nay, softly,[226] dear Puttotta—Mistress Puttotta—Madam Puttotta! O be merciful to my languishing master! He may in time grow great and well-graced courtier, for he wears yellow already! Mix, therefore, your loves. As for Madam Garbetza, his brother’s wife, you see what he writes there. Put. I must confess he says she is a spiny, green creature, of an unwholesome barren blood and cold embrace—a bony thing, of most unequal hips, uneven eyes, ill-rank’d teeth, and indeed one, but that she hires him, he endures not; yet, for all this does he hope to dishonest me? I am for his betters, I would he should well know it; for more by many than my husband know I am a woman of a known sound and upright carriage; and so he shall find if he deal with me; and so tell him, I pray you. What! does he hope to make me one of his gills, his punks, polecats, flirts, and feminines? 58 [Exit. As Putotta goes out, she flings away the letter. The Page puts it up, and, as he is talking, Hercules steals it out of his pocket. Pag. Alas! my miserable master, what suds art thou wash’d into! Thou art born to be scorn’d of every carted community, and yet he’ll out-crack a German when he is drunk, or a Spaniard after he hath eaten a fumatho,[227] that he has lien with that and that and t’other lady; that he lay last night in such a madonna’s[228] chamber, t’other night he lay[229] in such a countess’s couch, to-night he lies in such a lady’s closet; when poor I know all this while he only[230] lied in his throat. [Exit. Herc. Madam, let me sigh it in your bosom, how immutable and unfainting, and, indeed—— Gar. Fawn, I will undo that rascal! He shall starve for any further maintenance. 71 Herc. You may make him come to the covering and recovering of his old doublets. Gar. He was in fair hope of proving heir to his elder brother, but he has gotten me with child. Herc. So, you withdrawing your favour, his present means fail him; and by getting you with child, his future means for ever rest despairful to him. Gar. O Heaven! that I could curse him beneath damnation! Impudent varlet! By my reputation, Fawn, I only loved him because I thought I only did not love him. He vowed infinite beauties doted on him! Alas! I was a simple country lady, wore gold buttons, trunk[231] sleeves, and flaggon bracelets. In this state of innocency was I brought up to the court. 85Herc. And now, instead of country innocency, have you got court honesty? Well, madam, leave your brother to my placing; he shall have a special cabin in the ship of fools. Gar. Right. Remember he got his elder brother’s wife with child, and so deprived himself of th’ inheritance. Herc. That will stow[232] him under hatches, I warrant you. Gar. And so deprived himself of inheritance! Dear Fawn, be my champion! 95 Herc. The very scourge of your most basely offending brother. Gar. Ignoble villain! that I might but see thee wretched without pity and recovery! Well! Enter Herod and Nymphadoro. Herc. Stand, Herod; you are full met, sir. 100 Herod. But not met full, sir. I am as gaunt as a hunting gelding after three train’d scents! ’Fore Venus, Fawn, I have been shaling[233] of peascods. Upon[234] four great madonnas have I this afternoon grafted the forked tree! Herc. Is’t possible? Herod. Possible! Fie on this satiety!—’tis a dull, blunt, weary, and drowsy passion. Who would be a proper fellow to be thus greedily devoured and swallowed among ladies? Faith, ’tis my torment—my very rack! 111 Herc. Right, Herod, true; for imagine all a man possess’d with[235] a perpetual pleasure, like that of generation, even in the highest lusciousness, he straight sinks as unable to bear so continual, so pure, so universal a sensuality. Herod. By even truth, ’tis very right; and, for my part, would I were eunuch’d rather than thus suck’d away with kisses, enfeebling dalliance; and O the falling sickness on them all! why did reasonable nature give so strange, so rebellious, so tyrannous, so insatiate parts of appetite to so weak a governess—a[236] woman? 122 Herc. Or why, O custom! didst thou oblige them to modesty, such cold temperance, that they must be wooed by men—courted by men? Why, all know they are more full of strong desires—those desires most impatient of delay or hindrance, they have more unruly passions than men, and weaker reason to temper those passions than men. Nym. Why, then, hath not the discretion of Nature thought it just that customary coyness, old fashions, terms of honour and of modesty, forsooth, all laid aside, they court not us, beseech not us rather, for sweets of love than we them? Why, by Janus! women are but men turn’d the wrong side outward. 135 Herc. O, sir, Nature is a wise workman. She knows right well that if women should woo us to the act of love, we should all be utterly shamed. How often should they take us unprovided, when they are always ready! 140 Herod. Ay, sir, right, sir; to some few such unfortunate handsome fellows as myself am; to my grief, I know it. Herc. Why, here are two perfect creatures—the one, Nymphadoro, loves all, and my Herod here enjoys all. Herod. ’Faith, some score or two of ladies or so ravish me among them, divide my presents, and would indeed engross me, were I indeed such an ass as to be made a monopoly of. Look, sirrah, what a vild hand one of them writes. Who would ever take this for a d.—dearest, or read this for only—only dearest? 152 Herc. Here’s a lie indeed. Herod. True, but here’s another much more legibly, a good secretary,—My most affected Herod, the utmost ambition of my hopes and only—— Herc. There is one lie better shaped by odds! Herod. Right; but here’s a lady’s Roman hand to me is beyond all. Look ye,—To her most elected servant and worthy friend, Herod Baldonzozo, Esquire. I believe thou knowest what countess’s hand this is. I’ll show thee another. 162 Herc. No, good Herod; I’ll show thee one now.—To his most elected mistress and worthy laundress, divine Mistress Puttotta, at her tent in the wood-yard, or elsewhere, give these—— Herod. Prithee, ha’ silence! What’s that?Herc. If my tears or vows, my faithfulst[237] protestations on my knees—— Herod. Good, hold! 170 Herc. Fair and only-loved laundress!— Herod. Forbear, I beseech thee! Herc. Might move thy stony heart to take pity on my sighs—— Herod. Do not shame me to the day of judgment! Herc. Alas! I write it in passion!—alas! thou knowest besides my loathed sister, thou art—— Herod. For the Lord’s sake! Herc. The only hope of my pleasure, the only pleasure of my hopes! Be pleased, therefore, to—— 180 Herod. Cease, I beseech thee! Herc. Pish! ne’er blush, man; ’tis an uncourtly quality! As for thy lying, as long as there’s policy in’t, it is very passable! Wherefore has Heaven given man tongue but to speak to a man’s own glory? He that cannot swell bigger than his natural skin, nor seem to be in more grace than he is, has not learn’d the very rudiments or A B C of courtship. Herod. Upon my heart, Fawn, thou pleasest me to the soul; why, look you, for mine own part, I must confess—— Enter Dondolo. See, here’s the duke’s fool! Don. Aboard! aboard! aboard! all manner of fools, of court, city, or country, of what degree, sex, or nature! Herod. Fool! Don. Herod! Herc. What, are ye full freighted? Is your ship well fool’d? Don. O, ’twas excellently thronged full: a justice of peace, tho’ he had been one of the most illiterate asses in a country, could hardly ha’ got a hanging cabin. O, we had first some long fortunate great politicians, that were so sottishly paradised as to think, when popular hate seconded princes’ displeasure to them, any unmerited violence could seem to the world injustice; some purple fellows, whom chance reared, and their own deficiencies of spirit hurled down. We had some courtiers that o’er-bought their offices, and yet durst fall in love; priests that forsook their functions to avoid a thwart stroke with a wet finger.[238] But now, alas, Fawn! there’s space[239] and place. Herc. Why, how gat all these forth? Was not the warrant strong? Don. Yes, yes; but they got a supersedeas: all of them proved themselves either knaves or madmen, and so were all let go; there’s none left now in our ship, but a few citizens, that let their wives keep their shop-books, some philosophers, and a few critics; one of which critics has lost his flesh with fishing at the measure of Plautus’ verses; another has vow’d to get the consumption of the lungs, or to leave to posterity the true orthography and pronunciation of laughing;[240] a third hath melted a great deal o’ suet, worn out his thumbs with turning, read out his eyes, and studied his face out of a sanguine into a meagre, spawling, fleamy loathsomeness,—and all to find but why mentula should be the feminine gender, since the rule is Propria quÆ maribus tribuuntur mascula dicas. These philosophers, critics, and all the maids we could find at sixteen, are all our fraught now. 230 Herc. O, then, your ship of fools is full. Nym. True, the maids at seventeen fill it. Don. Fill it, quoth you; alas! we have very few, and these we were fain to take up in the country too. Herc. But what philosophers ha’ ye? Don. O, very strange fellows: one knows nothing; dares not aver he lives, goes, sees, feels. Nym. A most insensible philosopher. Don. Another, that there is no present time, and that one man to-day and to-morrow is not the same man; so that he that yesterday owed money, to-day owes none, because he is not the same man. 242 Herod. Would that philosophy[241] would hold good in law!Herc. But why has the duke thus labour’d to have all the fools shipp’d out of his dominions? Don. Marry, because he would play the fool himself alone, without any rival. Herc. Ware your breech, fool. Don. I warrant thee, old lad, ’tis the privilege of poor fools to talk before an intelligencer; marry, if I could fool myself into a lordship, as I know some ha’ fool’d[242] themselves out of a lordship,—were I grown some huge fellow, and got the leer of the people upon me, if the fates had so decreed it,—I should talk treason, tho’ I ne’er open’d my lips. 256 Herc. Indeed![243] fatis agimur, cedite fatis! But how runs rumour?—what breath’s strongest in the palace, now? I think you know all. Don. Yes, we fools think we know all. The prince hath audience to-night,—is feasted, and after supper is entertain’d with no comedy, masque, or barriers; but with—— Nym. What, I prithee? Herod. What, I prithee? Don. With a most new and special shape of delight. Nym. What, for Jove’s sake? 267 Don. Marry, gallants, a session, a general council of love, summon’d in the name of Don Cupid, to which, upon pain of their mistress’ displeasure, shall appear,—all favour-wearers, sonnet-mongers, health-drinkers, and neat enrichers[244] of barbers and perfumers; and to conclude, all that can wyhee or wag the tail, are, upon grievous pains of their back, summon’d to be assistant in that session of love. Herc. Hold! hold! Do not pall the delight before it come to our palate; and what other rumour keeps air in[245] men’s lungs? Don. O, the egregiousness of folly! Ha’ you not heard of Don Zuccone? 280 Nym. What of him, good fool? Don. He is separated. Nym. Divorced? Don. That salt,—that criticism,—that very all epigram of a woman,—that analysis,—that compendium of wittiness! Nym. Now, Jesu, what words the fool has! Don. We ha’ still such words, but I will not unshale the jest before it be ripe, and therefore, kissing your worship’s fingers, in most sweet terms, without any sense, and with most fair looks, without any good meaning, I most courtlike take my leave, basilus[246] manus de vostro signioria. 293 Herod. Stay, fool, we’ll follow thee: for, ’fore Heaven, we must prepare ourselves for this session. [Exeunt. Enter Zuccone, pursued by Zoya, on her knees attended by Ladies. Zuc. I will have no mercy, I will not relent;—Justice’ beard is shaven, and it shall give thee no hold. I am separated, and I will be separated. Zoy. Dear my lord, husband! Zuc. Hence, creature! I am none of thy husband, or father of thy bastard. No, I will be tyrannous, and a most deep revenger: the order shall stand. Ha, thou quean, I ha’ no wife now! 303 Zoy. Sweet my lord! Zuc. Hence! avaunt! I will marry a woman with no womb,—a creature with two noses,—a wench with no hair,—rather than remarry thee! Nay, I will first marry,—mark me, I will first marry,—observe me, I will rather marry a woman that with thirst drinks the blood of man! nay, heed me, a woman that will thrust in crowds,—a lady, that, being with child, ventures the hope of her womb,—nay, gives two crowns for a room to behold a goodly man[247] three parts alive quartered, his privities hackled off, his belly lanch’d[248] up! Nay, I’ll rather marry a woman to whom these smoking, hideous, bloodful, horrid, tho’ most just spectacles, are very lust, rather than reaccept thee. Was I not a handsome fellow, from my foot to my feather? Had I not wit?—nay, which is more, was I not a Don, and didst thou Acteon me? Did I not make thee a lady? 320 Herc. And did she not make you a more worshipful thing,—a cuckold! Zuc. I married thee in hope of children. Herc. And has not she showed herself fruitful that was got with child without help of her husband? Zuc. Ha, thou ungrateful, immodest, unwise, and one[249] that, God’s my witness, I ha’ lov’d! But, go thy ways; twist with whom thou wilt: for my part, tha’st spun a fair thread;—who’ll kiss thee now,—who’ll court thee now,—who’ll ha’ thee now? 330 Zoy. Pity the frailty of my sex, sweet lord. Zuc. No; pity is a fool, and I will not wear his[250] coxcomb. I have vowed to loathe thee. The Irishman shall hate aqua vitae,—the Welshman cheese,—the Dutchman shall loath salt butter,—before I relove thee. Does the babe pule? Thou shouldst ha’ cried before, ’tis too late now. No, the trees in autumn shall sooner call back the spring with shedding of their leaves, than thou reverse my just, irrevocable hatred with thy tears. Away! go! vaunt! 340 [Exeunt Zoya and the Ladies. Herc. Nay, but most of this is your fault, that for many years, only upon mere mistrust, sever’d your body from your lady, and in that time gave opportunity, turn’d a jealous ass, and hired[251] some to try and tempt your lady’s honour, whilst she, with all possible industry of apparent merit, diverting your unfortunate suspicion—— Zuc. I know’t; I confess, all this I did, and I do glory in’t. Why? cannot a young lady for many months keep honest? No, I misthought it. My wife had wit, beauty, health, good birth, fair clothes, and a passing body; a lady of rare discourse, quick eye, sweet language, alluring behaviour, and exquisite entertainment. I misthought it, I fear’d, I doubted, and at the last I found it out. I praise my wit: I knew I was a cuckold. Herc. An excellent wit. 355 Zuc. True, Fawn; you shall read of some lords that have had such a wit, I can tell you; and I found it out that I was a cuckold! Herc. Which now you have found, you will not be such an ass as CÆsar, great Pompey, Lucullus, Anthony, or Cato, and divers other Romans,—cuckolds, who all knew it, and yet were ne’er divorced upon’t:—or, like that smith-god, Vulcan, who, having taken his wife taking, yet was presently appeased, and entreated to make an armour for a bastard of hers, Æneas.[252] 365 Zuc. No, the Romans were asses, and thought that a woman might mix her thigh with a stranger wantonly, and yet still love her husband matrimonially. Herc. As indeed they say a many married men lie sometime with strange women, whom, but for the instant use, they abhor.Zuc. And as for Vulcan, ’twas humanity more than human; such excess of goodness, for my part, only belong to the gods. Herc. Ass for you! Zuc. As for me, my Fawn, I am a bachelor now. Herc. But you are a cuckold still, and one that knows himself to be a cuckold. Zuc. Right, that’s it; and I knew it not, ’twere nothing; and if I had not pursued it too, it had lyen in oblivion, and shadowed in doubt, but now I ha’ blazed it. 381 Herc. The world shall know what you are. Zuc. True; I’ll pocket up no horns; but my revenge shall speak in thunder. Herc. Indeed, I must confess I know twenty are cuckolds,[253] honestly and decently enough: a worthy gallant spirit (whose virtue suppresseth his mishap) is lamented but not disesteem’d by it; yet the world shall know—— Zuc. I am none of those silent coxcombs—it shall out. Herc. And although it be no great part of injustice for him to be struck with the scabbard that has struck with the blade (for there is few of us but hath made some one cuckold or other)—— 393 Zuc. True, I ha’ done’t myself. Herc. Yet—— Zuc. Yet I hope a man of wit may prevent his own mishap, or if he can prevent it—— Herc. Yet—— Zuc. Yet make it known yet, and so known that the world may tremble with only thinking of it. Well, Fawn, whom shall I marry now? O Heaven! that God made for a man no other means of procreation and maintaining the world peopled but by women! O![254] that we could increase like roses, by being slipp’d one from another,[255]—or like flies, procreate with blowing, or any other way than by a woman,—by women, who have no reason in their love or mercy in their hate, no rule in their pity, no pity in their revenge, no judgment to speak, and yet no patience to hold their tongues;
Man’s opposite, the more held down, they swell; 410
Above them naught but will, beneath them naught but hell. Herc. Or, that since Heaven hath given us no other means to allay our furious appetite, no other way of increasing our progeny,—since we must entreat and beg for assuagement of our passions, and entertainment of our affections,—why did not Heaven make us a nobler creature than women, to show unto?—some admirable deity, of an uncorruptible beauty, that might[256] be worth our knees, the expense of our heat, and the crinkling of our hams.[257] 420Zuc. But that we must court, sonnet, flatter, bribe, kneel, sue to so feeble and imperfect, inconstant, idle, vain, hollow bubble, as woman is! O, my Fawn![258] Herc. O, my lord, look who here comes! Enter Zoya, supported by a Gentleman Usher, followed by Herod and Nymphadoro, with much state; soft music playing. Zuc. Death o’ man! is she delivered? Herc. Delivered! Yes, O my Don, delivered! Yes, Donna Zoya,—the grace of society,—the music of sweetly agreeing perfection,—more clearly chaste than ice or frozen rain,—that glory of her sex,—that wonder of wit,—that beauty more fresh’d than any cool and trembling wind,—that now only wish of a man,—is delivered!—is delivered! 432 Zuc. How? Herc. From Don Zuccone, that dry scaliness,—that sarpego,—that barren drouth, and shame of all humanity! Zoy. What fellow’s that? Nym. Don Zuccone, your sometime husband. Enter Philocalia. Zoy. Alas! poor creature. Phil. The princess prays your company. Zoy. I wait upon her pleasure. 440 [All but Hercules, Zuccone, Herod, and Nymphadoro, depart.Zuc. Gentleman, why hazard you your reputation in shameful company with such a branded creature? Herod. Miserable man! whose fortune were beyond tears to be pitied, but that thou art the ridiculous author of thine own laugh’d-at mischief. Zuc. Without paraphrase, your meaning? Nym. Why, thou woman’s fool? Zuc. Good gentlemen, let one die but once. Herod. Was not thou most curstfully mad to sever thyself from such an unequall’d rarity? 450 Zuc. Is she not a strumpet? Is she not with child? Nym. Yes, with feathers. Herc. Why, weakness of reason, couldst not perceive all was feign’d to be rid of thee? Zuc. Of me? Nym. She with child? Untrodden snow is not so spotless! Herod. Chaste as the first voice of a new-born infant! Herc. Know, she grew loathing of thy jealousy! Nym. Thy most pernicious curiosity. 460 Herc. Whose suspicions made her inimitable graces motive of thy base jealousy. Herod. Why, beast of man! Nym. Wretched above expression! that snored’st over a beauty which thousands desired!—neglectedst[259] her bed, for whose enjoying a very saint would have sued! Herc. Defamed her! Herod. Suggested privily against her!Nym. Gave foul language publicly of her! 469 Herc. And now, lastly, done that for her which she only pray’d for, and wish’d as wholesome air for, namely, to be rid from such an unworthy— Herod. Senseless— Nym. Injurious— Herc. Malicious— Herod. Suspicious— Nym. Misshaped— Herc. Ill-languaged— Herod. Unworthy— Nym. Ridiculous— 480 Herc. Jealous— Herod. Arch coxcomb as thou art! [Exeunt Nymphadoro and Herod. Zuc. O I am sick!—my blood has the cramp! my stomach o’erturns!—O I am very sick! Herc. Why, my sweet Don, you are no cuckold! Zuc.[260] That’s the grief on’t. Herc. That’s—— Zuc. That I ha’ wrong’d so sweet (and now, in my knowledge), so delicate a creature! O methinks I embrace her yet! 490 Herc. Alas! my lord, you have done her no wrong—no wrong in the world; you have done her a pleasure—a great pleasure! A thousand gentlemen—nay, dukes—will be proud to accept your leavings—your leavings! Now is she courted! This heir sends her jewels, that lord proffers her jointures, t’other knight proclaims challenges to maintain her the only not beautiful, but very beauty of women. Zuc. But I shall never embrace her more! 499 Herc. Nay, that’s true—that’s most true. I would not afflict you, only think how unrelentless you were to her but supposed fault. Zuc. O! ’tis true—too true! Herc. Think how you scorn’d her tears! Zuc. Most right! Herc. Tears that were only shed (I would not vex you) in very grief to see you covet your own shame! Zuc. Too true—too true! Herc. For, indeed, she is the sweetest modest soul, the fullest of pity! 510 Zuc. O[261] ay! O ay! Herc. The softness and very courtesy of her sex, as one that never lov’d any—— Zuc. But me! Herc. So much that he might hope to dishonour her, nor any so little that he might fear she disdain’d[262] him. O! the graces made her a soul as soft as spotless down upon the swan’s fair breast that drew bright Cytherea’s chariot. Yet think (I would not vex you), yet think how cruel[263] you were to her. 520 Zuc. As a tiger—as a very tiger! Herc. And never hope to be reconciled, never dream to be reconciled—never!Zuc. Never! Alas! good Fawn, what wouldst wish me to do now? Herc. Faith, go hang yourself, my Don; that’s best, sure. Zuc. Nay, that’s too good; for I’ll do worse than that—I’ll marry again. Where canst pick out a morsel for me, Fawn? 530 Herc. There is a modest, matron-like creature—— Zuc. What years, Fawn? Herc. Some fourscore, wanting one. Zuc. A good sober age! Is she wealthy? Herc. Very wealthy. Zuc. Excellent! Herc. She has three hairs on her scalp and four teeth in her head; a brow wrinkled and pucker’d like old parchment half burnt. She has had eyes. No woman’s jawbones are more apparent; her sometimes envious lips now shrink in, and give her nose and her chin leave to kiss each other very moistly. As for her reverend mouth, it seldom opens, but the very breath that flies out of it infects the fowls of the air, and makes them drop down dead. Her breasts hang like cobwebs; her flesh will never make you cuckold; her bones may. 547 Zuc. But is she wealthy? Herc. Very wealthy. Zuc. And will she ha’ me, art sure? Herc. No, sure, she will not have you. Why, do you think that a waiting-woman of three bastards, a strumpet nine times carted, or a hag whose eyes shoot poison—that has been an old witch, and is now turning into a gib-cat,[264]—what![265] will ha’ you? Marry Don Zuccone, the contempt of women and the shame of men, that has afflicted, contemn’d so choice a perfection as Donna Zoya’s! 557 Zuc. Alas! Fawn, I confess. What wouldst ha’ me do? Herc. Hang yourself! You shall not marry—you cannot. I’ll tell ye what ye shall do: there is a ship of fools setting forth; if you make[266] good means, and intreat hard, you may obtain a passage, man—be master’s mate, I warrant you. Zuc. Fawn, thou art a scurvy bitter knave, and dost flout Dons to their faces; ’twas thou flattered’st me to this, and now thou laugh’st at me, dost? though indeed I had a certain proclivity, but thou madest me resolute: dost grin and gern?[267] O you comforters of life, helps in sickness, joys in death, and preservers of us, in our children, after death, women, have mercy on me! 570 Herc. O my Don, that God made no other means of procreation but by these women! I speak it not to vex you. Zuc. O Fawn, thou hast no mercy in thee: dost thou leer on me? Well, I’ll creep upon my knees to my wife: dost laugh at me? dost gern at me? dost smile? dost leer on me, dost thou? O I am an ass; true, I am a coxcomb; well, I am mad; good: a mischief on your cogging tongue, your soothing throat, your oily jaws, your supple hams,[268] your dissembling smiles, and O the grand devil on you all! When mischief favours our fortunes, and we are miserably,[269] tho’ justly wretched, 582
More pity, comfort, and more help we have
In foes profess’d, than in a flattering knave. [Exit. Herc. Thus few strike sail until they run on shelf;
The eye sees all things but his proper self;
In all things curiosity hath been
Vicious at least, but herein most pernicious.
What madness is’t to search and find a wound
For which there is no cure, and which unfound 590
Ne’er rankles, whose finding only wounds?
But he that upon vain surmise forsakes
His bed thus long, only to search his shame;
Gives to his wife youth, opportunity,
Keeps her in idleful deliciousness,
Heats and inflames imagination,
Provokes her to revenge with churlish wrongs,—
What should he hope but this? Why should it lie in women,
Or even in chastity itself (since chastity’s a female),
T’ avoid desires so ripened, such sweets so candied? 600
But she that hath out-born such mass of wrongs,
Out-dured all persecutions, all contempts,
Suspects, disgrace, all wants, and all the mischief,
The baseness of a canker’d churl could cast upon her,
With constant virtue, best feign’d[270] chastity,
And in the end turns all his jealousies
To his own scorn, that lady, I implore,
It may be lawful not to praise, but even adore. Enter Gonzago, Granuffo, with full state. Enter the Cornets sounding. Gon. Are our sports ready? is the prince at hand? Herc. The prince is now arrived at the court gate. 610 Gon. What means our daughter’s breathless haste? Enter Dulcimel in haste. Dul. O my princely father, now or never let your princely wisdom appear! Gon. Fear not, our daughter, if it rest within human reason, I warrant thee; no, I warrant thee, Granuffo, if it rest in man’s capacity. Speak, dear daughter. Dul. My lord, the prince—— Gon. The prince, what of him, dear daughter? Dul. O Lord, what wisdom our good parents need to shield their chickens from deceits and wiles of kite-like youth! 621 Gon. Her very phrase displays whose child she is. Dul. Alas! had not your grace been provident,
A very Nestor in advice and knowledge,
Ha! where had you, poor Dulcimel, been now?
What vainness had not I been drawn into! Gon. ’Fore God! she speaks very passionately. Alas! daughter, Heaven gives every man his talent; indeed, virtue and wisdom are not fortune’s gifts, therefore those that fortune cannot make virtuous, she commonly makes rich; for our own part, we acknowledge Heaven’s goodness; and, if it were possible to be as wise again as we are, we would ne’er impute it to ourselves: for, as we be flesh and blood, alas! we are fools; but as we are princes, scholars, and have read Cicero de Oratore, I must confess there is another matter in’t. What of the prince, dear daughter? 637 Dul. Father, do you see that tree, that leans just on my chamber window? Gon. What of that tree? Enter Tiberio with his train. Dul. O, sir, but note the policy of youth;
Mark but the stratagems of working love.
The prince salutes me, and thus greets my ear. Gon. Speak softly; he is enter’d. Dul. Although he knew I yet stood wavering what to elect, because, though I affected, yet destitute of means to enjoy each other, impossibility of having might kill our hope and with our hope desires to enjoy, therefore, to avoid all faint excuses and vain fears, thus he devised
—To Dulcimel’s chamber-window 650
A well-grown plane tree spreads his happy arms
By that, in depth of night, one may ascend
(Despite all father’s jealousies and fears)
Into her bed. Gon. Speak low; the prince both marks and listens. Dul. You shall provide a priest (quoth he). In truth I promised, and so you well may tell him; for I temporised, and only held him off—— Gon. Politely; our daughter to a hair. Dul. With full intention to disclose it all to your preventing wisdom. Gon. Ay, let me alone for that; but when intends he this invasion?—when will this squirrel climb? 663 Dul. O, sir, in that is all:—when but this night? Gon. This night? Dul. This very night, when the court revels had o’erwaked your spirits, and made them full of sleep, then—— Gon. Then, verbum sat sapienti! Go, take your chamber, down upon your knees; thank God your father is no foolish sot, but one that can foresee and see. 671 [Exit Dulcimel. My lord, we discharge your presence from our court. Tib. What means the duke? Gon. And if to-morrow past you rest in Urbin,
The privilege of an ambassador
Is taken from you. Tib. Good, your grace: some reason? Gon. What! twice admonish’d, twice again offending,
And, now grown blushless? You promis’d to get into
Her chamber, she to get a priest:
Indeed she wish’d me tell you she confess’d it: 680
And there, despite all father’s jealous fears,
To consummate full joys. Know, sir, our daughter
Is our daughter, and has wit at will
To gull a thousand easy things like you.
But, sir, depart: the parliament prepar’d,
Shall on without you: all the court this night
Shall triumph that our daughter has escaped
Her honour’s blowing up: your end you see
We speak but short but full, Socratice. [Exeunt all but Hercules and Tiberio. Tib. What should I think, what hope, what but imagine 690
We speak but short but full, Socratice.
Of these enigmas?[271] Herc. Sure, sir, the lady loves you
With violent passion, and this night prepares
A priest with nuptial rites, to entertain you
In her most private chamber. Tib. This I know,
With too much torture, since means are all unknown
To come unto these ends. Where’s this her chamber?
Then what means shall without suspicion
Convey me to her chamber? O these doubts
End in despair—— Enter Gonzago hastily. Gon. Sir, sir, this plane-tree was not planted here 700
To get into my daughter’s chamber, and so she pray’d me tell you.
What though the main arms spread into her window,
And easy labour climbs it, sir, know
She has a voice to speak, and bid you welcome
With so full breast that both your ears shall hear on’t,
And so she pray’d me tell you. Ha’ we no brain!
Youth thinks that age, age knows that youth is vain. [Exit. Tib. Why, now I have it, Fawn,—the way, the means, and meaning. Good duke, and ’twere not for pity, I could laugh at thee. Dulcimel, I am thine most miraculously; I will now begin to sigh, read poets, look pale, go neatly, and be most apparently in love; as for—— 713 Herc. As for your old father—— Tib. Alas! he and all know, this an old saw hath bin,
Faith’s breach for love and kingdoms is no sin. [Exit. Herc. Where are we now, Cyllenian Mercury?
And thou, quick issue[272] of Jove’s broken pate,
Aid and direct us; you better stars to knowledge,
Sweet constellations, that affect[273] pure oil, 720
And holy vigil of the pale-cheek’d muses,
Give your best influence, that with able spright
We may correct and please, giving full light
To every angle of this various sense:
Works of strong birth end better than commence. [Exit. ACT V. SCENE I. Courtyard of the Palace. Whilst the Act is a-playing, Hercules and Tiberio Enters; Tiberio climbs the tree, and is received above by Dulcimel, Philocalia, and a Priest: Hercules stays beneath. Herc. Thou mother of chaste dew, night’s modest lamp,
Thou by whose faint shine the blushing lovers
Join glowing cheeks, and mix their trembling lips
In vows well kiss’d, rise all as full of splendour
As my breast is of joy! You genital,
You fruitful well-mix’d heats, O, bless the sheets
Of yonder chamber, that Ferrara’s dukedom,
The race of princely issue, be not curs’d,
And ended in abhorrÈd barrenness!
At length kill all my fears, nor let it rest 10
Once more my tremblings that my too cold son
(That ever-scorner of humaner loves)
Will still contemn the sweets of marriage,
Still kill[274] our hope of name in his dull coldness.
Let it be lawful to make use, ye powers,[275]
Of human weakness, that pursueth still
What is inhibited, and most affects
What is most difficult to be obtain’d:
So we may learn, that nicer love’s a shade—
It follows fled, pursued flies as afraid: 20
And in the end close all the various errors
Of passages most truly comical
In moral learning with like confidence
Of him that vow’d good fortune of the scene
Shall neither make him fat, or bad make lean. Enter Dondolo laughing. Don. Ha, ha, ha! Herc. Why dost laugh, fool, here’s nobody with thee? Don. Why, therefore do I laugh, because there’s nobody with me. Would I were a fool alone! I’faith, I am come to attend—let me go,—I am sent to the princess, to come and attend her father to the end of Cupid’s Parliament. 32 Herc. Why, ha’ they sat already upon any statutes? Don. Sat? ay, all’s agreed in the nether house! Herc. Why, are they divided? Don. O ay, in Cupid’s Parliament all the young gallants are o’ the nether house, and all the old signiors that can but only kiss are of the upper house. Is the princess above?Herc. No, sure; I think the princess is beneath, man. Ha’ they supp’d, fool? 41 Don. O yes, the confusion of tongues at the large table is broke up, for see the presence fills. A fool, a fool, a fool, my coxcomb for a fool! Enter Sir Amorous, Herod, Nymphadoro, Garbetza, Donnetta, and Poveia. Herod. Stop, ass; what’s matter, idiot? Don. O gallants, my fools that were appointed to wait on Don Cupid have launch’d out their ship to purge their stomachs on the water, and before Jupiter, I fear they will prove defective in their attendance. 49 Herod. Pish, fool, they’ll float in with the next tide. Don. Ay, but when’s that? Let’s see mine almanack or prognostication. Sir Amor. What, is this for this year? Don. In true wisdom, sir, it is. Let me see the moon, ’fore pity ’tis in the wayne. What grief is this, that so great a planet should ever decline or lose splendour! Full sea at—— Sir Amor. Where’s the sign now, fool? Don. In Capricorn, Sir Amoroso. Gar. What strange thing does this almanack speak of, fool? 61 Don. Is this your lady, Sir Amorous? Sir Amor. It is; kiss her, fool. Herod. You may kiss her now, she is married. Sir Amor. So he might ha’ done before. Don. In sober modesty, sir, I do not use to do it behind.Herod. Good fool, be acquainted with this lady too; she’s of a very honest nature, I assure thee. Don. I easily believe you, sir, for she hath a very vile[276] face, I assure you. 70 Gar. But what strange things does thy almanack speak of, good fool? Don. That this year no child shall be begotten but shall have a true father. Sir Amor. That’s good news, i’faith. I am glad I got my wife with child this year. Herc. Why, Sir Amorous, this may be, and yet you not the true father—may it not, Herod? Gar. But what more says it, good Fawn? 79 Herod. Faith, lady, very strange things! It says that some ladies of your hair shall have feeble hams, short memories, and very weak eyesight, so that they shall mistake their own page, or even brother-in-law, sometimes for their husbands. Sir Amor. Is that all, Fawn? Herc. No, Sir Amorous; here’s likewise prophesied a great scarcity of gentry to ensue, so that some bores shall be dubbed Sir Amoroso. A great scarcity of lawyers is likewise this year to ensue, so that some one of them shall be entreated to take fees o’ both sides. 90 Enter Don Zuccone, following Donna Zoya on his knees. Zuc. Most dear, dear lady! Wife, lady, wife! O do not but look on me, and ha’ some mercy!Zoy. I will ha’ no mercy!—I will not relent! Zuc. Sweet lady! Zoy. The order shall stand; I am separated, and I will be separated! Zuc. Dear! my love! wife! Zoy. Hence, fellow! I am none of thy wife! No, I will be tyrannous and a most deep revenger. The order shall stand! I will marry a fellow that keeps a fox in his bosom, a goat under his armholes, and a polecat in his mouth, rather than reaccept thee. 102 Zuc. Alas! by the Lord, lady, what should I say? As Heaven shall bless me—what should I say? Herod. Kneel and cry, man! Zoy. Was I not handsome, generous, honest enough from my foot to my feather, for such a fellow as thou art? Zuc. Alas! I confess—I confess! Zoy. But go thy ways, and wive with whom thou wilt, for my part. Thou hast spun a fair thread. Who’ll kiss thee now? who’ll court thee now? who’ll ha’ thee now? 113 Zuc. Yet be a woman; and, for God’s sake, help me! Herod. And do not stand too stiffly. Zuc. And do not stand too stiffly! Do you make an ass of me? But let these rascals laugh at me. Alas! what[277] could I do withal? ’twas my destiny that I should abuse you! 120Zoy. So it is your destiny that I should thus revenge your abuse. No, the Irishman shall hate aqua vitÆ, the Welshman cheese, and the Dutchman salt butter, before I’ll love or receive thee. Does he cry? does the babe pule? ’Tis too late now—thou shouldst ha’ cried before—’tis too late now. Go, bury thy head in silence; and let oblivion be thy utmost hope. [The Courtiers address themselves to dancing, whilst the Duke enters with Granuffo, and takes his state.[278] Herc. Gallants, to dancing. Loud music, the duke’s upon entrance! Gon. Are the sports ready? 130 Herc. Ready. Gon. ’Tis enough. Of whose invention is this parliament? Herc. Ours. Gon. ’Tis enough.
This night we will exult! O let this night
Be ever memorised with prouder triumphs—
Let it be writ in lasting character
That this night our great wisdom did discover
So close a practice—that this night, I say, 140
Our policy found out, nay, dash’d the drifts
Of the young prince, and put him to his shifts,
Nay, past his shifts (’fore Jove! we could make a good poet).—
Delight us. On! we deign our princely ear—
We are well pleased to grace you;[279] then scorn fear. [Cornets playing. Drunkenness, Sloth, Pride, and Plenty lead Cupid to his state, who is followed by Folly, War, Beggary, and Slaughter.[280] Stand, ’tis wisdom to acknowledge ignorance
Of what we know not; we would not now prove foolish.
Expound the meaning of your show. Herc. Triumphant Cupid, that sleeps on the soft cheek
Of rarest beauty, whose throne’s in ladies’ eyes;— 150
Who[281] forced writhed lightning from Jove’s shaking hand,
Forced strong Alcides to resign his club,
Pluck’d Neptune’s trident from his mighty arm,
UnhelmÈd Mars;—he (with those trophies borne,
Led in by Sloth, Pride, Plenty, Drunkenness,
Follow’d by Folly, War, Slaughter,[282] Beggary)
Takes his fair throne. Sit pleased; for now we move,
And speak not for our glory but for love. [Hercules takes a bowl of wine. Gon. A pretty figure.
What, begins this session with ceremony? 160 Herc. With a full health to our great mistress, Venus,
Let every state of Cupid’s parliament
Begin the session, et quod bonum faustumque sit precor. [Hercules drinks a health. Gon. Give’t us; we’ll pledge: nor shall a man that lives,
In charity refuse it. I will not be so old
As not be graced to honour Cupid. Give’t us full.
When we were young we could ha’ troll’d it off,
Drunk down a Dutchman. Herc. ’Tis lamentable; pity your grace has forgot it. Drunkenness! O ’tis a most fluent and swelling virtue; sure the most just of all virtues: ’tis justice itself; for, if it chance to oppress and take too much, it presently restores it again. It makes the king and the peasant equal; for, if they are both drunk alike, they are both beasts alike. As for that most precious light of heaven—Truth—if Time be the father of her, I am sure Drunkenness is oftentimes the mother of her, and brings her forth. Drunkenness brings all out, for it brings all the drink out of the pot, all the wit out of the pate, and all the money out of the purse. 180 Gon. My Lord Granuffo, this Fawn is an excellent fellow. Don. Silence. Gon. I warrant you for my lord here. Cup. Since multitude of laws are signs either of much tyranny in the prince or much rebellious disobedience in the subject, we rather think it fit to study how to have our old laws thoroughly executed, than to have new statutes cumbrously invented. Gon. Afore Jove, he speaks very well. 190 Herc. O, sir, Love is very eloquent, makes all men good orators: himself then must needs be eloquent. Cup. Let it therefore be the main of our assembly to survey our old laws, and punish their transgressions; for that continually the complaints of lovers ascend up to our deity, that love is abused, and basely bought and sold, beauty[’s] corrupted, affection feign’d, and pleasure herself sophisticated; that young gallants are proud in appetite and weak in performance; that young ladies are phantastically inconstant,—old ladies impudently unsatiate,—wives complain of unmarried women, that they steal the dues belonging to their sheets,—and maids exclaim upon wives, that they unjustly engross all into their own hands, as not content with their own husbands, but also purloining that which should be their comfort. Let us therefore be severe in our justice; and if any, of what degree soever, have approvedly offended, let him be instantly unpartially arrested and punished. Read our statutes. 209 Herc. A statute made in the five thousand four hundred threescore and three year of the easeful reign of the mighty potent Don Cupid, emperor[283] of sighs and protestations, great king of kisses, archduke of dalliance, and sole loved of her,[284] for the maintaining and relieving of his old soldiers, maim’d or dismember’d in love. Don. Those that are lightly hurt, shame to complain; those that are deeply struck are past recovery. Cup. On to the next. Herc. An act against the plurality of mistresses. Cup. Read. 220 Herc. Whereas some over amorous and unconscionable covetous young gallants, without all grace of Venus, or the fear of Cupid in their minds, have at one time engrossed the care or cures of divers mistresses, with the charge of ladies, into their own tenure or occupation,[285] whereby their mistresses must of necessity be very ill and insufficiently served, and likewise many able portly gallants live unfurnished of competent entertainment, to the merit of their bodies; and whereas likewise some other greedy strangers have taken in the purlieus, outset land, and the ancient commons of our sovereign liege Don Cupid, taking in his very highways, and enclosing them, and annexing them to their own lordships, to the much impoverishing and putting of divers of Cupid’s true hearts and loyal subjects to base and abhominable[286] shifts: Be it therefore enacted, by the sovereign authority and erected ensign of Don Cupid, with the assent of some of the lords, most of the ladies, and all the commons, that what person or persons soever shall, in the trade of honour, presume to wear at one time two ladies’ favours, or at one time shall earnestly court two women in the way of marriage, or if any under the degree of a duke shall keep above twenty women of pleasure, a duke’s brother fifteen, a lord ten, a knight or a pensioner or both four, a gentleman two, shall ipso facto be arrested by folly’s mace, and instantly committed to the ship of fools, without either bail or main prize, Millesimo centesimo quingentesimo quadragesimo nono Cupidinis semper unius.—Nymphadoro, to the bar! 248 Nym. Shame o’ folly, will Fawn now turn an informer? Does he laugh at me?Herc. Domina Garbetza, did he not ever protest you were his most only elected mistress? Gar. He did. Herc. Domina Donetta, did he not ever protest, you were his most only elected mistress? Don. He did. Herc. Domina Poveia, did he not ever protest, that you were his most only elected mistress? Pov. He did. Nym. Mercy! 260 Cup. Our mercy is nothing, unless some lady will beg thee. Ladies. Out upon him, dissembling, perfidious liar! Herc. Indeed ’tis no reason ladies should beg liars. Nym. Thus he that loveth many, if once known,
Is justly plagued to be belov’d of none. [Exit. Herc. An act against counterfeiting of Cupid’s royal coin, and abusing his subjects with false money.—To the bar, Sir Amorous!—In most lamentable form complaineth to your blind celsitude your distressed orators, the women of the world, that in respect that many spendthrifts, who having exhausted and wasted their substance, and in stranger parts have with empty shows, treasonably purchased ladies’ affections, without being of ability to pay them for it with current money, and therefore have deceitfully sought to satisfy them with counterfeit metal, to the great displeasure and no small loss of your humblest subjects: may it therefore with your pitiful assent be enacted, that what lord, knight, or gentleman soever, knowing himself insufficient, bankrout, exhausted, and wasted, shall traitorously dare to entertain any lady, as wife or mistress, ipso facto to be severed from all commercement with women, his wife or mistress in that state offending to be forgiven with a pardon of course, and himself instantly to be pressed to sail in the ship of fools, without either bail or main-prize.—Sir Amorous is arrested. 286 Sir Amor.[287] Judgment of the court. Herc. I take my oath upon thy brother’s body, ’tis none of thine. Sir Amor. By the heart of dissemblance, this Fawn has wrought with us as strange tailors work in corporate cities, where they are not free; all inward, inward he lurk’d in the bosom of us, and yet we know not his profession. Sir, let me have counsel? Herc. ’Tis[288] in great Cupid’s case; you may have no counsel. 296 Sir Amor. Death[289] o’ justice! are we in Normandy? What is my lady’s doom then? Cup. Acquitted by the express parole of the statute. Hence, and in thy ignorance be quietly happy. Away with him—on! Herc. An act against forgers of love-letters, false braggarts of ladies’ favours, and vain boasters of counterfeit tokens. Herod. ’Tis I, ’tis I! I confess guilty, guilty! 305 Herc. I will be most humane and right courteously languaged in thy correction, and only say, thy vice, from apparent here, has made thee an apparent beggar, and now of a false knave hath made thee a true fool. Folly to the ship with him, and twice a day let him be duck’d at the main-yard. Cup. Proceed! 312 Herc. An act against slanderers of Cupid’s liege ladies’ names, and lewd defamers of their honours. Zuc. ’Tis I, ’tis I! I weep and cry out, I have been a most contumelious offender. My only cry is Miserere! Cup. If your relenting lady will have pity on you,
The fault against our deity be pardoned. Zuc. Madam, if ever I have found favour in your eyes, if ever you have thought me a reasonable handsome fellow, as I am sure before I had a beard you might, O be merciful! 322 Zoy. Well, upon your apparent repentance, that all modest spectators may witness I have for a short time only thus feignedly hated you that you might ever after truly love me, upon these cautions I reaccept you; first you shall vow—— Zuc. I do vow, as Heaven bless me, I will do! Zoy. What? Zuc. Whate’er it be; say on, I beseech you. 330 Zoy. You shall vow—— Zuc. Yes. Zoy. That you shall never—— Zuc. Never—— Zoy. Feign love to my waiting-woman or chamber-maid. Zuc. No.Zoy. Never promise them such a farm to their marriage—— Zuc. No. Zoy. If she’ll discover but whom I affect. 340 Zuc. Never. Zoy. Or if they know none, that they’ll but take a false oath I do, only to be rid of me. Zuc. I swear I will not; I will not only not counterfeitly love your women, but I will truly hate them; an’t be possible, so far from maintaining them, that I will beggar them. I will never pick their trunks for letters, search their pockets, ruffle their bosoms, or tear their foul smocks;—never! never! Zoy. That if I chance to have a humour to be in a masque, you shall not grow jealous. 351 Zuc. Never. Zoy. Or grudge at the expense. Zuc. Never! I will eat mine own arms first. Zoy. That you shall not search, if my chamber-door hinges be oil’d to avoid creaking. Zuc. As I am a sensible creature. Zoy. Nor ever suspect the reason why my bedchamber floor is double-matted. Zuc. Not, as I have blood in me. 360 Zoy. You shall vow to wear clean linen, and feed wholesomely. Zuc. Ay, and highly. I will take no more tobacco, or come to your sheets drunk, or get wenches. I will ever feed on fried frogs, broil’d[290] snails, and boil’d lamb-stones;—I will adore thee more than a mortal,—observe and serve you as more than a mistress,—do all duties of a husband,—all offices of a man,—all services of thy creature,—and ever live in thy pleasure, or die in thy service. 370 Zoy. Then here my quarrel ends; thus cease all strife. Zuc. Until they lose, men know not what’s a wife.
We slight and dully view the lamp of heaven,
Because we daily see’t, which but bereaved,
And held one little week from darken’d eyes,
With greedy wonder we should all admire;
Opinion[291] of command puts out love’s fire. Herc. An act against mummers, false seemers, that abuse ladies with counterfeit faces, courting only by signs, and seeming wise only by silence. 380 Cup. The penalty? Herc. To be urged to speak, and then, if inward ability answer not outward seeming, to be committed instantly to the ship of fools during great Cupid’s pleasure.—My Lord Granuffo, to the bar! Speak, speak; is not this law just? Gra. Just, sure; for in good truth or in good sooth,
When wise men speak, they still must open their mouth. Herc. The brazen head has spoken. Don. Thou art arrested. Gra. Me? Herc. And judg’d: away! [Exit Granuffo. Gon. Thus silence, with grave looks, with hums and haws, 391
Makes many worshipp’d, when if tried they’re daws;
That’s the morality or l’envoy of it—
L’envoy of it. On. Herc. An act against privy conspiracies, by which, if any with ambitions wisdom shall hope and strive to outstrip Love, to cross his words, and make frustrate his sweet pleasure,—if such a presumptuous wisdom fall to nothing, and die in laughter, the wizard so transgressing is ipso facto adjudged to offend in most deep treason, to forfeit all his wit at the will of the lord, and be instantly committed to the ship of fools for ever. 401 Gon. Ay, marry, sir! O might Œdipus riddle me out such a fellow! Of all creatures breathing, I do hate those things that struggle to seem wise, and yet are indeed very fools. I remember, when I was a young man, in my father’s days, there were four gallant spirits, for resolution, as proper for body, as witty in discourse, as any were in Europe, nay, Europe had not such; I was one of them. We four did all love one lady,—a modest, chaste virgin she was; we all enjoy’d her, I well remember, and so enjoy’d her that, despite the strictest guard was set upon her, we had her at our pleasure: I speak it for her honour and my credit. Where shall you find such witty fellows nowadays? Alas! how easy it is, in these weaker times, to cross love-tricks. Ha! ha! ha! Alas! I smile to think I must confess, with some glory[292] to mine own wisdom, to think how I found out, and crossed, and curb’d, and jerk’d, and firk’d, and in the end made desperate Tiberio’s hope. Alas! good silly youth, that dares to cope with age and such a beard. I speak it without glory. 421 Herc. But what yet might your well-known wisdom think,
If such a one, as being most severe,
A most protested opposite to the match
Of two young lovers,—who having barr’d them speech,
All interviews, all messages, all means,
To plot their wishÈd ends,—even he himself
Was, by their cunning, made the go-between,
The only messenger, the token-carrier,
Told them the times when they might fitly meet, 430
Nay, show’d the way to one another’s bed? Gon. May one have the sight of such a fellow for nothing?
Doth there breathe such an egregious ass?
Is there such a foolish animal in rerum natura? How is it possible such simplicity can exist? Let us not lose our laughing at him, for God’s sake! Let Folly’s sceptre light upon him, and to the ship of fools with him instantly! Don. Of all these follies I arrest your grace. Gon. Me? ha! me? me, varlet? me, fool? Ha! to th’ jail with him! What, varlet? call me ass?—me? Herc. What! grave Urbin’s duke? 441
Dares Folly’s sceptre touch his prudent shoulders?
Is he a coxcomb? No, my lord is wise;
For we all know that Urbin’s duke has eyes. Gon. God ha’ mercy, Fawn! Hold fast, varlet!
Hold thee, good Fawn!—railing reprobate! Herc. Indeed, I must confess your grace did tell
And first did intimate your daughter’s love
To otherwise most cold Tiberio;
After convey’d her private favour to him, 450
A curious scarf, wherein her needle wrought
Her private love to him. Gon. What! I do this? Ha! Herc. And last, by her persuasion, show’d the youth
The very way and best-elected time
To come unto her chamber. Gon. Thus did I, sir? Herc. Thus did you, sir; but I must confess
You meant not to do this, but were rankly gull’d—
Made a plain natural. This sure, sir, you did.
And in assurance, Prince Tiberio,
Renowned, witted Dulcimel, appear! 460
The acts of constant honour cannot fear. [Exit Hercules. Tiberio and Dulcimel above, are discovered hand in hand. Dul. Royally wise and wisely royal father—— Don. That’s sententious now—a figure call’d in art Ironia. Dul. I humbly thank your worthy piety
That through your only means I have obtained
So fit, [so] loving, and desired a husband. Gon. Death o’ discretion! if I should prove a fool now. Am not I an ass, think you, ha? I will have them both bound together, and sent to the Duke of Ferrara presently. 471 Tib. I am sure, good father, we are both bound together as fast as the priest can make us already. I thank you for it, kind father; I thank you only for’t. Hercules Enters in his own shape. Herc. And as for sending them to the Duke of Ferrara, see, my good lord, Ferrara’s o’erjoy’d prince meets thee in fullest wish. Gon. By the Lord! I am ashamed of myself, that’s the plain troth; but I know now wherefore this parliament[293] was. What a slumber have I been in! 480 Herc. Never grieve nor wonder—all things sweetly fit. Gon. There is no folly to protested wit. Herc. What still in wond’ring ignorance doth rest,
In private conference your dear-lov’d breast
Shall fully take.—But now we change our face. EPILOGUS. And thus, in bold yet modest phrase we end.
He whose Thalia with swiftest hand hath penn’d
This lighter subject, and hath boldly torn
Fresh bays from Daphne’s arm, doth only scorn
Malicious censures of some envious few, 490
Who think they lose if others have their due:
But let such adders hiss; know, all the sting,
All the vain foam of all those snakes that ring
Minerva’s glassful shield, can never taint,
Poison, or pierce; firm art disdains to faint:—
But yet of you that with impartial faces,
With no preparÈd malice, but with graces
Of sober knowledge, have survey’d the frame
Of his slight scene, if you shall judge his flame
Distemperately weak, as faulty much 500
In style, in plot, in spirit; lo! if such,
He deigns, in self-accusing phrase, to crave
Not[294] praise, but pardon, which he hopes to have;
Since he protests he ever hath aspired
To be belovÈd rather than admired. [Exeunt omnes.
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