Francis Beaumont

“ Keep it in gold, Duke, 'tis a precious jewel.
Now to my self; for I have liv'd a fair age,
Longer by some moneths then I had a mind to.
Duke. Hold.
Gab. Here, young Perolot; my first contracted
True love shall never go alone.
Duke. Hold, Gabriella.
I do forgive all.
Gab. I shall die the better,
Thus let me seek my grave, and my shames with me.
Mar. Nor shalt thou go alone my noble Mistris:
Why should I live, and thou dead?
Lord. Save the wench there.
Mar. She is, I hope; and all my sins here written.
Duke. This was a fatal night. ”

“ Hunger, valour, love, ambition are alike pleasing, and let our Philosophers say what they will, are one kind of heat, only hunger is the safest: ambition is apt to fall; love and valour are not free from dangers; only hunger, begotten of some old limber Courtier, in pan'de hose, and nurs'd by an Attourneys wife; now so thriven, that he need not fear to be of the great Turks guard: is so free from all quarrels and dangers, so full of hopes, joyes, and ticklings, that my life is not so dear to me as his acquaintance.
Enter Lazarello's boy. ”

“ Given him his boons in women, honor, wealth,
And all the various delecacies of earth;
That the fool scorns the gods in his excess,
She whirls, and leaves him at th' Antipodes.
Mar. Art sure we have taken him? Is this Sophocles?
His fettred arms say no; his free soul, I.
This Athens nurseth Arts, as well as Arms.
Soph. Nor glory Martius, in this day of thine,
'Tis behind yesterday, but before to morrow:
Who knows what Fortune then will do with thee?
She never yet could make the better man,
The better chance she has: the man that's best
She still contends with, and doth favor least. ”

“ The glorious name 'tis known by: he's my brother;
Yet peace is above bloud: Let him go; I,
But where's the nobleness of affection then?
That must be car'd for too, or I'm imperfect,
The same bloud that stood up in wrath against him,
Now in his misery, runs all to pity;
I'd rather dye than speak one syllable
To save my self, but living as I am,
There's no avoiding on't, the worlds humanity
Expects it hourly from me: curse of fortune,
I took my leave so well too: Let him dye,
'Tis but a brother lost ”

“ Are you the same Ordella still?
Mart. The same, Sir,
Whom heavens and my good Angel staid from ruin.
Thier. Kiss me again.
Ordel. The same still, still your servant.
Thier. 'Tis she, I know her now Martel; sit down sweet.
Oh blest and happiest woman, a dead slumber
Begins to creep upon me, oh my jewel!
Enter Messenger and Memberge.
Ordel. Oh sleep my Lord.
Thier. My joyes are too much for me.
Mess. Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to see
Protaldye tortur'd, has choak'd her self.
Mart. No more, her sins go with her.
Thier. Love, I must die, I faint, close up my glasses. ”

“ Luc. That he would be greater than the Duke, that he had cast plots for this, and meant to corrupt some to betray him, that he would burn the City, kill the Duke, and poison the Privy Council; and lastly kill himself. Though thou deserv'st justly to be hang'd with silence, yet I allow thee to speak, be short.
Laz. My Lord, so may my greatest wish succeed,
So may I live, and compass what I seek,
As I had never treason in my thoughts,
Nor ever did conspire the overthrow
Of any creatures but of brutish beasts,
Fowls, Fishes, and such other humane food,
As is provided for the good of man. ”

“ Thy malice Duke, and this thy wicked nature, are all as visible as thou; but I born to contemn thy injuries, do know, that though thy greatness may corrupt a Jury, and make a Judge afraid, and carry out a world of evils with thy Title: yet thou art not quiet at home, thou bearest about thee that, that doth charge thee, and condemn thee too. The thing that grieves me more, and doth indeed displease me, is, to think that so much baseness stands here to have encountred so much honor: Pardon me my Lord, what late my passion spake, when you provok'd my innocence. ”

“ Arrigo, take these words, and bear them to the Duke,
It is the last petition I shall ask thee:
Tell him the child this present hour brought forth
To see the world has not a soul more pure, more white,
More Virgin than I have; Tell him Lord Gondarino's Plot, I suffer for, and willingly: tell him it had been a greater honor, to have sav'd than kill'd: but I have done: strike, I am arm'd for heaven. Why, stay you? is there any hope? ”

“ Can Martius be so vile? or Dorigen?
Dor. Stay, stay, and monster, keep thou further of;
I thought thy brave soul would have much, much loath'd
To have gone on still on such terms as this.
See, thou ungrateful, since thy desperate lust
Nothing can cure but death, I'll die for thee,
Whilst my chaste name lives to posterity.
Mar. Live, live, thou Angel of thy sex: forgive,
Till by those golden tresses thou be'st snatch'd
Alive to Heaven: for thy corruption's
So little, that it cannot suffer death. ”

“ It lies pawn'd at thy Silk-man's, for so much Lace;
Thy credit with his wife cannot redeem it,
Thy cloaths are all the soul thou hast, for so
Thou sav'st them handsome for the next great tilting,
Let who will take the t'other, thou wert never christen'd
(Upon my conscience) but in Barbers water;
Thou art never out o'th' Bason, thou art rotten,
And if thou dar'st tell truth, thou wilt confess it;
—— Thy skin
Looks of a Chesnut colour, greaz'd with Amber,
All women that on earth do dwell, thou lov'st,
Yet none that understand love thee again,
But those that love the Spittle ”

“ From thinking thee a brother, as I can
My tongue from naming on't: thou hast no friend here,
But fortune and thy own strength, trust to them.
[Sold. How? what's the incitement, sir?]
Sham. Treachery to virtue;
Thy treachery, thy faithless circumvention:
Has Honor so few daughters, never fewer,
And must thou aim thy treachery at the best?
The very front of virtue, that blest Lady? the Dukes Sister?
Created more for admirations cause,
Than for loves ends; whose excellency sparkles
More in Divinity, than mortal beauty ”

“ Sham. Husband? is't possible that he has a wife?
Would any creature have him? 'tis some forc'd match,
If he were not kick'd to th' Church o' th' wedding day,
I'll never come at Court. Can be no otherwise:
Perhaps he was rich, speak mistriss Lapet, was't not so?
Wife. Nay, that's without all question.
Sh. O ho, he would not want kickers enow then;
If you are wise, I much suspect your honesty;
For wisdom never fastens constantly,
But upon merit: if you incline to fool,
You are alike unfit for his society ”

“ So near the Godhead, 'tis an injury
To glorious Eternity.
1 Gent. Pray use patience, Sir.
Pas. I do confess it freely, precious Lady,
And loves suit is so, the longer it hangs
The worse it is; better cut off, sweet Madam;
Oh, that same drawing in your neather Lip there,
Fore-shews no goodness, Lady; make you question on't?
Shame on me, but I love you.
1 Gent. Who is't Sir,
You are at all this pains for? may I know her?
Pas. For thee thou fairest, yet the falsest woman,
That ever broke man's heart-strings. ”

“ Duke. Your Office.
Ger. Farewell to thy inticing vanity,
Thou round gilt box, that dost deceive man's eye:
The wise man knows, when open thou art broke,
The treasure thou includ'st, is dust and smoke,
Even thus, I cast thee by. My Lords, the Law
Is but the great mans mule, he rides on it,
And tramples poorer men under his feet;
Yet when they come to knock at yon bright Gate,
Ones Rags shall enter, 'fore the others State.
Peace to ye all: here, sirrah, strike: this hand
Hath Violanta kiss'd a thousand times ”

“ Valerius thy Brother shall for once
Turn Executioner: Give me the sword.
Now Sophocles, I'll strike as suddenly
As thou dar'st die.
Soph. Thou canst not. And Valerius,
'Tis less dishonour to thee thus to kill me,
Then bid me kneel to Martius: 'tis to murther
The fame of living men, which great ones do;
Their studies strangle, poyson makes away,
The wretched hangman only ends the Play.
Val. Art thou prepar'd?
Soph. Yes.
Val. Bid thy wife farewell.
Soph. No, I will take no leave: My Dorigen,
Yonder above, 'bout Ariadnes Crown
My spirit shall hover for thee; prethee haste. ”

“ I will enjoy thee, though it be between the parting of thy soul and body; yield yet and live.
Orian. I'll guard the one, let Heaven guard the other.
Arri. Are you so resolute then?
[Duke from above. Hold, hold I say.]
Orian. What [have] I? yet more terror to my tragedy?
Arri. Lady, the Scene of bloud is done; ye are now as free from scandal, as from death.
Enter Duke, Count, and Gondarino.
Duke. Thou Woman which wert born to teach men virtue,
Fair, sweet, and modest Maid, forgive my thoughts,
My trespass was my love. ”

“ I am given much to belching: hold off, as you love sweet airs; Ladies, by your first nights pleasure, I conjure you, as you wou'd have your Husbands proper men, strong backs, and little legs, as you would have 'em hate your Waiting-women.
Oria. Sir, we must court ye, till we have obtain'd some little favour from those gracious eyes, 'tis but a kiss a piece.
Gond. I pronounce perdition to ye all; ye are a parcel of that damned crew that fell down with Lucifer, and here ye staid on earth to plague poor men; vanish, avaunt, I am fortified against your charms; heaven grant me breath and patience. ”

“ Till times are riper.
Gent. Fie, my Noble Lord,
Can you be now a stranger to the Court,
When your most virtuous Bride, the beauteous Hellena
Stands ready like a Star to gild your happiness,
When Hymens lusty fires are now a lighting,
And all the Flower of Anjou?
Lav. Some few trifles,
For matter of adornment, have a little
Made me so slow, Gentille, which now in readiness,
I am for Court immediately.
Gent. Take heed, Sir,
This is no time for trifling, nor she no Lady
To be now entertain'd with toys: 'twill cost ye—
Lav. ”

“ Alas poore Iris, Venus hath in store
A secret Ambush of her winged boyes,
Who lurking long within these pleasant groves;
First strucke these Lovers with their equall darts,
Those Cupids shall come forth, and joyne with these,
To honor that which they themselves begun.
Enter foure Cupids from each side of the Boscage, attired in flame coloured Taffita close to their bodie like naked Boyes, with Bowes, Arrowes, and wings of gold: Chaplets of flowers on their heads, hoodwinckt with Tiffiny scarfs, who joyne with the Nymphes, and the Hyades in another daunce. That ended, Iris speakes. ”

“ As they should never doe; let me endure
The pains that she should suffer.
Duke. Hath she so? Which is the woman?
Gond. This, this.
Duke. How! Arrigo? Lucio?
Gond. I then it is a plot, no Prince alive
Shall force me make my house a Brothell house;
Not for the sins, but for the womans sake,
I will not have her in my doors so long:
Will they make my house as bawdy as their own are?
Duke. Is it not Oriana?
Lucio. 'Tis.
Duke. Sister to Count Valero?
Arri. The very same.
Duke. She that I love?
Lucio. She that you love.
Duke. I do suspect.
Lucio. So doe I.
Duke. ”

“ I have not wrong'd thee; think upon thine Oath.
Ferd. It manacles me, Gerrard, else this hand
Should bear thee to the Law. Fare well for ever:
Since friendship is so fatal, never more
Will I have friend: thou hast put so sure a plea,
That all my weal's litigious made by thee.
Ger. I did no crime to you. His love transports him;
And yet I mourn, that cruel destinie
Should make us two thus one anothers cross:
We have lov'd since boys; for the same time cast him
On Lord Benvoglio, that my Aunt and I
Were succour'd by Randulpho: men have call'd us
The parallels of Millain ”

“ To hate himself, because he hath some part
Of woman in him; seems not to endure
To see, or to be seen of any woman,
Only, because he knows it is their nature
To wish to tast that which is most forbidden:
And with this shew he may the better compass
(And with far less suspition) his base ends.
Lucio. Upon my life 'tis so.
Duke. And I doe know,
Before his slain wife gave him that offence,
He was the greatest servant to that Sex
That ever was: what doth this Lady here
With him alone? why should he rail at her to me?
Lucio. Because your grace might not suspect.
Duke. ”

“ Oh wench!
Oh honest wench! if my wife die, I'll marry thee:
There's my reward.
Ferd. 'Tis true.
Duke. 'Tis very strange.
Ger. Why kneel you honest Master?
Ferd. My good Lord.
Ger. Dear Mother.
Duke. Rise, rise, all are friends: I owe ye
for all their boards: And wench, take thou the man
Whose life thou sav'dst; less cannot pay the merit.
How shall I part my kiss? I cannot: Let
One generally therefore joyn our cheeks. ”

“ Sham. La Nove, 'tis strange to see thee.
1 Gent. I ha' rid one horse to death,
To find you out, Sir.
Sham. I am not to be found of any man
That saw my shame, nor seen long.
1 Gent. Good, your attention:
You ought to be seen now, and found out, Sir,
If ever you desire before your ending
To perform one good office, nay, a dear one,
Mans time can hardly match it.
Sham. Be't as precious
As reputation; if it come from Court
I will not hear on't. ”

“ Enter in triumph with Drums, Trumpets, Colours, Martius, Valerius, Sophocles bound, Nicodemus, Cornelius, Captains and Soldiers.
Mar. What means proud Sophocles?
Soph. To go even with Martius,
And not to follow him like his Officer:
I never waited yet on any man.
Mar. Why poor Athenian Duke, thou art my slave,
My blows have conquerd thee.
Soph. Thy slave? proud Martius,
Cato thy countrey-man (whose constancie,
Of all the Romans, I did honor most)
Rip'd himself twice to avoid slavery,
Making himself his own Anatomie. ”

“ I will forbear to marry thee: consider
Thou art Nature's heir in feature, and thy parents,
In fair Inheritances; rise with these thoughts,
And look on me; but with a womans eye,
A decaid fellow, void of means and spirit.
Charl. Of spirit?
Mont. Yes, could I tamely live,
Forget my Fathers bloud, wait, and make legs,
Stain my best breeches, with the servile drops
That fall from others draughts.
Charl. This vizard wherewith thou wouldst hide thy spirit,
Is perspective, to shew it plainlier. ”

“ It was the fatal means first struck my bloud
With the cold hand of wonder, when I read it
Printed upon your birth.
[Pg 42]
Thier. Can there be any way unsmooth, has end
So fair and good?
Lecure. We that behold the sad aspects of Heaven,
Leading sence blinded, men feel grief enough
To know, though not to speak their miseries.
Thier. Sorrow must lose a name, where mine finds life;
If not in thee, at least ease pain with speed,
Which must know no cure else. ”