Clowne. The mapp of misfortune and very picture of ill luck.
Raphael. Grosse-wasted, gowty-legg'd.
Clowne. Whose face is puft up like a bladder and whose belly lyke a toonne.
Raphael. Owld, graye and hoary.
Clowne. And withall cheatinge, cousininge, and crafty; a remarkable raskall, a damnable deceiver, and a most substantiall cinner.
Ashburne. By such I have much suffred in my state,Opprest almost to utmost penuryIn my once better fortune; but so lateI sawe not any such.
Raphael. Hee was expectedTo bee attended by too [sic] handsome gurles,Boathe younge, boathe fayre, but th'one unparreld [sic];Neather of which by computationHathe told so hye as twenty.
Ashb. If such I chance to meete by accident I'l send you notyce. Please you leave your name And place of your abode.
Raphael.RaphaelI am cald,A marchant inMarcellis, and my lodgingeIs at theParrattin the markett-place;There you shall finde mee knowne.
Ashb. And by that name Presume I'l not forgett you.
Raph. For which curtesy,Fare you well, syr;You shall oblighe mee to you. If not heareWeele seeke her further;Franceshall not conteine themBut I will finde theire start-holes.
Ashb. Good speede with you.
Clowne. If I weare a dogge nowe and coold hunt dry foote[68] I could smell them out presently.
[Exeunt[69] Raphael and Clown.
Ashb. Come lett us mount ourselfes upon these rockesAnd, havinge feelinge of our hurts at land,Letts see what shyppes have ben distrest at sea,If any shaken in this storme or wreckt;And though wee cannot help the miserableYet lett them taste our pittye.
Godfrey. Sir, content; but I hope your fishermen have not putt to sea this night. If they have I sweare they have showed themselves much madder then the tempest.
Ashb. I hope they have bin more discreate and wyse Then with the hazard of my boates and netts To indanger theire owne lyves.
Godfr. See: do you see, Syr?
Ashb. What?
Godfr. Why, yonder.
Ashb. Where?
Godfr. There towards yon shore.
Ashb. A shipp laboringe for liffe Nowe cast upon the rocks, nowe splitt, nowe sinkinge, Nowe dasht to peeces.
Godfr. I see all mischeifes do not com by land, Som's doone upon the water.
Ashb. Though theire goodes perishe,Yet in thy mercy, heaven, protect theire lyves.Som sitt upon the planks, som on the masts,Som hange upon the cables, and som fewHave only gott the cock-boat; others swimme.Oh that wee shoold beehold theire miseryAnd want power to assiste them!
Godfr. Sure, syr, it was som shipp of passengers,For see you not too women? daynty ducks!Would they coold swime as ducks can, see how they spreadAnd cast theire legges abroad lyke naked frogges!See howe they spread theire armes and stryve for lyfe!I[70] would I weare som Dolphin or some whayleThat they might sitt astryde upon my backeTo beare them safe ashore; but I as yetCould neare indure still water. See yet still,Still theire coates beare them upp, keepe them aloft;The modest ayer not willinge to discoverThat which the bawdy waves shame not beloweRudely to lifte and handle.
Ashb. Blesse them heaven!The wind and tyde still beate them towards the shore,But oh that cursed billowe hath devydedAnd parted them asunder. Yet all's well;They still beare upp. If they but scape the nextThere may bee hope of safetye.
Godfr. One's driven this way, The tother that; the men shift for themselves, Howe shall we save thes women?
Ashb. No meanes unlesse we leape downe from the rockes,And that's meare desperation. Yet to showeOur charityes to wretches thus extreame,Lett's see if wee can find the least descentAnd hasten to theire suckor.
Godfr. By your favour, I had rather they with brine shoold break their bellys Then I my neck with clamberinge.
Explicit Actus primus.
Actus 2.
Storme continewed. Enter Palestra all well, as newly shipwreckd and escapt the fury of the seas.
Palestra.[71] Is this then the reward of Innocense,Of goodness to our selfes, namely chast lyfe,Pietye to our parents, love to all,And above all our Christian zeale towardes heaven?But why shoold wee poore wretches thus contestAgainst the powers above us, when even theyThat are the best amongst us are servd badd?Alas, I never yet wrongd man or child,Woman or babe; never supplanted frendOr sought revendge upon an enemy.You see yet howe we suffer; howe shall they thenThat false their faythes, that are of uncleane lyfeAnd then not only sinne unto them selvesBut tempt and persuade others? what shall I thinkeBecoms of my base guardian? though the wavesHave spared the guiltles, sure his putrid s[oule][72]Cannot escape heavens justyce! wee poor wretchesAre punishe [sic] for his grosse impietyes,They mov'd heavens wrathe, who stir'd the winds and wavesStryvinge whose fury should destroy us fyrst.These boathe conspyringe in our ruinne, th'oneBeate us belowe the billowes whilst the otherSwallowed boathe shippe and goodes; [amongst] the restA[73] budget or portmantau which includesAll the bawdes wealth. But that weare nothinge to meeThough he had vowed and sworne to make mee his heyer;The losse I so lament is a small caskettKept by him from my childhood, and packt upAmongst his treasure; and that perishinge,I forfett the longe expectationEver to knowe my parents, therefore wisheWith it I had i'th sea been buried.
Enter Scribonia.
Scrib. With perill of oft fallinge and the dangerOf second deathe, having new scapt the fyrst,I have with feare and terror clim'd these rocks,And these too past I feare to meete a thyrd.I spy no howse, no harbor, meete no creatureTo point mee to some shelter; therefore heareMust starve by famine or expire by could.O'th sea the whystlinge winds still threaten wreckes,And flyinge nowe for refuge to the landeFind nought save desolation. Thoughe these three,Three dreadfull deaths all spare mee, yeat a fowerth,I cannot shoone [shun] in myPalestraslosse,More[74] deare to mee then all the world besides,For the best blood of myne runns in her veynes,This lyfe breath in her bosom. Oh myPalestra!
Palestr. Numnes and feare, hungar and sollitude, Besydes my casket, myScribonia'slosse, All these at once afflict mee.
Scrib. Notheinge meeMore thanPalestra'sdeathe. Ha, who's that spake?Suer twas som womans voyce! if myPalestraOnly for her sake I coulde wishe to live.
Pal. Then lyve, my deereScribonia, synce I am only Spar'd to partake with thee newe miseryes.
Scrib. Scarce can I bee perswaded you are shee: But, bee yt but her shadowe, give mee leave For her remembrance to imbrace it thus.
Palest. These armes at once locke all my lyvinge hopes In my restoredScribonia.
Scrib. Nowe I perceave My comfort is not meare imaginary But reall and effectuall. Lyve you then?
Pal. To triumphe in your safety.
Scrib. PossibleThat mongst these desert unfrequented rocksThou can imadgine such a thing can beAs that which you call safety?
Pal. Yes,Scribonia,And comfort too; for, see, I spy a villadge,A maner and a fayre built monastery,Just at the foott of this descendeinge hill.And where, if not amongst religious men,Shoold we find that's calld charity?
Scrib. Thether, then:Lett[75] us make hast with all the speede we can:Fyre at the least I hope it [is?] well assured,Besydes releiffe and harbor.
Pal. Can you begge?
Scrib. What will not rude necessity compellDistressed folke to doo? We'll not doo't basely,For beinge brought upp to musick and to sing,Demandinge in that kind there charity,And they perceivinge us much better bredThen these our present fortunes might deserve,May move in them compassions.
Pal. Lett's retyreTo the backe gate then, there complane our wantsAnd that which others doo with impudenceLett us in shame and blushes.
Scrib. Som sweete echoSpeake from these walls and answer to our wants,And eather lend som comfort to our grieffsOr send us hence dispayringe and asham'd.
[They go in.
Pal. _Oh charity where art thou fled, And nowe how longe hast thou been dead?
Answer within. Oh many many many hundred yeares
Scrib. In villadge, borrough, towne or cittyRemaines there yet no grace, no pitty?
Answ. Not in sighes, not in want, not in teares.
Pal. Cold comfort in this answer; but proceede.
Above. we see a threatninge skye.
Answ. Beelowe the winds and gusts blowe hye,And all all to fright hence this same juell.
Scrib. The lightninges blast, the thunders cracke,The billows menace nought save wracke.
Answ. And yet man is then these much more crewell.
Pal. Unless my judgment quite miscarry,Shee may lyve in som monastery.
Answ. Tis a place too that was fyrst assigned her.
Scrib. If not amongst religious men,Yett where, where shall wee seeks her then?
Answ. Yet even there, there, you scarce scarce can find her.
Pal. If chastity and Innocens trydeHave boathe escaped wind and tyde—
Answ. Yet oh why should the land, land these cherish?
Scrib. Of whome even billowes have a care,Whom seas preserve, whom tempests spare—
Answ. Yet these these amongst men may perishe._
Pal. Uncharitable echo! from a placeOf pure devotion canst thou answer that?If not in these religious monasteries,In what place can we find could charity?
Scrib. Where ere wee meete her shee is lyke our selfes, Bare, without harbor, weake and comfortles.
Enter Fryer John.
Fr. Jhon. What singeinge beggers were those at the gate That would so early rowse our charity, Before it was half styrringe or awake?
Enter Fryer Richard.
I thinke I answerd them in such a wayAs I beleeve scarce pleas'd them.
Fr. Rich. What sweete musick Was that at the back gate hath cald mee upp Somwhat before my hower?
Fr. Jhon. Morrow, fryarRichard:Howe did you lyke our last night's buffetinge?Whilst all the rest of our fraternityIn feare of that greate tempest weare att prayers,Wee too pickt out that tyme of least suspitionAnd in the orchard hand to hand weare att it.
Fr. Rich. Tis trew for blooddy noses; and, FryarJhon,As you lyke that which is allredy pastSo chalendge mee hereafter. But whence camThose sweete and delicate voyces?
Fr. Jhon. I bare part In theire sadd quire though none of these yet knw't. But peace: our Father Abbat.
Enter the Abbot with other fryars.
Abbott. Morrow, soonns,An early blessinge on you, if as the larkeRysen beetymes still to salute the soon,So your devotion pluckes you from your beddsBeefore your hower unto your orisons.Did you not heare a musicall complayntOf women that in sadd and mournefull tonesBewayld theire late disasters, harshly answerdBy a churlish echo?
Fr. Jhon. Som such thinge wee heard.
Fr. Rich. The noates still persist with mee.
Pal. There appearesIn his grave lookes bothe zeele and charity;Letts to his sight boldly expose ourselfes.Hayle, reverent father!
Abbot. What are you poore soules Thus wett and wether-bitt?
Scrib. Ere you demandFurther from us, letts tast your Christian charity,Som fyare, som harbor, least ere our sadd taleBee fully tould wee perishe.
Abbot. Why, whence came you?
Pal. From sea; our shipp last night in the great stormeCast on these rocks and split; this the fyrst placeExposed unto our eyes to begge releiff.But oh I faynt.
Abbot. Some[76] faggotts instantly:Hott brothes, hott water for them, and warme cloathes.Whome the high powers miraculously preserve,Whome even the merciles waves have borne ashore,Shall we soe sinke a land? Even wee our selfesThat lyve and eate by others charity,To others shall not wee bee charitable?All succor, all supply that can be given,They from our hands shall tast.
Fr. Jhon. Shall we remove them Into the cloyster?
Fr. Rich. Tis agaynst our oath On any, though the great'st, extremity To addmitt women thether.
Abbot. That I knowe:Yet in som out-office see them chear'd,Want nothinge that the cloyster can affourd.Theire bewtyes, though my eye be bleynd at them,Deserve no lesse; I looke on theire distresseAnd that I pitty. Ech one lend a handTo take off from theire present miseryAnd ease theire tender shoulders; when they are cheer'dAnd better comforted, I'l finde occationeTo enquire further from them.
Pal. Heaven be as kind To you as you to us!
Abb. Feare not fayre damselles:This place, though not within the monastery,Yet stands within the cloysters previledgeAnd shallbee unto you a sanctuary.
Scrib. No other wee expect it.
Abb. Guide them in: [Bell ring. Bewty and youthe to pitty 'tis no sinne.
The bell ringes to mattens. Enter the Lord de Averne and his Lady. Dennis and others.
Fr. Jhon. Harke, the bell ringes to mattens.
Fr. Rich. See withallOur noble patron with his lovely ladyPrepare for theire devotion. Nowe, FriarJhon,Your letcherous eye is conninge.
Fr. Jhon. I knowe my place.
Abbott. Way for our noble founder!
L. Aberne. Morrowe, father; So to the rest of all the brotherhood.
[The quire and musick; the fryars make a lanewith ducks and obeysance.
Voyces. Te tuosque semper, oh semper beamus, Et salvos vos venisse, o venisse gaudeamus.
Fr. Jhon. Good daye to our fayre foundresse!
Lady. Mercy, FryarJhon; Above the rest you are still dutifull, For which wee kindly thanke you.
[Exeunt: manet Jhon.
Fr. Jhon. Kindly thanke you!Nay, smyld withall! allthough that I have moreThen a monthes mind[77] to these younge harletryesYet heares the grownd on which I fyrst must buildAnd ryse my fortunes many steepes[78] hye.Nay, I perhapps, ere they can drye there smocks,Will putt th'affayre in motion, whyle these areAtt solleme mattens. I'l take pen and wryte,And sett my mind downe in so quaint a strayneShall make her laughe and tickle, whylst I laugheAnd tickle with the thought on't, still presumingeThese lookes, these smyles, these favours, this sweete languageCould never breathe, butt have theire byrthe from love.But how to ha'tt delivered? there's the dowbt.Tush I have plott for that too; hee, no questione,That sett mee on to compasse this my will,May when the up-shoote comes assist mee still.
[Exit.
[Tempest. Thunder.
Enter 2 Fishermen.
1st Fish. The trobled sea is yet scarce navigableSynce the last tempest: yet wee that only lyvBy our owne sweatt and labour, nor cann eateBeffore[79] wee fetch our foode out of the sea,Must ventur thoughe with daunger or bee suerWith empty stomakes go unsupt to bed.
2nd Fish. And so it often happens.
1 Fish. See the cordaigeBe stronge and tight, the netts with all theire stringes,Plometts, and corks, well plac't for hookes and bates,This daye wee shall have little use of them:The wind's still hye, beare but a gentle sayleAnd hazard not the channele. Keepe alongeClose by the shoare, the rocks will shelter usAnd may perhapps affoord us lobsters, praunes,Shrimps, crabbes, and such lyke shell fishe; hence[80] we mayHunt the sea urchen, and with safety too;There's many holde hime for a dayntye fishe,Hee sells well in the markett. That poore menAre forct too, for a slender competens,A little to prolonge a wretched lyfe!
2 Fish. Com then lett us weighe anchor and aboord: The soone is upp allredy.
Enter the Clowne.
Clowne. If ever menn weare madd then suer my master is not well in his witts, and all about this wenshe; here's such sendeinge and seekeinge, hurriinge and posteinge, and all to no purpose. I have nowe some thyrty errands to deliver and knowe not to whome nor where, what nor to which place fyrst; hee's gone on to the citty and sent mee back to the villaige, whither his frend travelled[81] one waye, hee another, and I a thyrd contrary from them boathe; he cannott beleeve his inquiry to be well doone but hee must send me to doo't over againe. I have asked all I mett and demanded of all I have seene.[82] But what are theese? these should bee fishermen. Good morrowe, you sea theeves.[83]
1 Fish. You call us theeves that may proove honester Than many goe for trewe[84] men on the shore.
Clowne. Sawe[85] you not passe this [way] an ould bald fellowe hutch-shoolderd, crooked nos'd, beetle browd, with a visadge lowreing and a looke skowlinge; one that heaven hates and every good man abhors; a cheatinge raskall and an ugly slave,—did note such passe you?
1 Fish. If such a one as you describe you inquire for,Mee thinks, my frend, thou hast mistooke thy way;Thou shouldst have sought him at the gallowes rather,There such are soonest fownd.
Clowne. Byrlady, worst answered of a playne fellowe; but that you may knowe him the better, hee had too handsome streete-singing-fact lasses in his companye.
2 Fish. And for such creatures y'had best search the stewes O'th citty; this our villadge yields none such. This fellowe doth but flowte us; letts aboord.
1 Fish. Inquire for us of wenshes? tush, wee fishe For no such perewinkles; farewell flesh mongere.
[Ex. Fish.
Clowne. No wonder these fellowes pretend to be witty; for understandinge, so manye have lost there witts as … they have fisht for it and in som drawenett or other have caught it. But where might these lost shrewes bee? I suspect this pestiferousJe vous priehathe putt some slovenly tricke or other to cheate my mayster boathe of his ware and mony.
Enter Scribonia with an empty pale to y'e Clow.
Scribon. Thus beinge chered with warmth, and change of clothes,With all such comforts as the cloyster yeelds,I am dyrected to a neighbours byFor water to refreshe and wash our selves.And this shoold bee the howse.
Clowne. What! notScribonia, One of the flock that's missing?
Scrib. Oh sweeteJayms, Where is your noble maister?
Clowne. Nay, sweete rogue, Where is his bewteous mystresse?
Scrib. Heare within.
Clowne. In this place joyninge to the monastery? AndMildewetoo?
Scrib. Rott on that villeyne! no.
Clowne. Hee promist to bringe you too alonge and meete with my master and som others of his frends att supper.
Scrib. Can such men, ever false unto theire God, Keepe faythe with men at any tyme?
_Clowne. _But staye, staye, there's one riddle I cannot expound: howe com thou so suddenly to lepp out of a howse of roguery into a howse of religion, from a stewes to a cloyster, from beastleness to blessednes and from a sacrilegious place to a sanctuary?
Scrib. Such was the grace heaven sent us, who from perill,Danger of lyfe, the extreamest of all extreamesHathe brought us to the happy patronageOf this most reverent abbott.
Clowne. What dangers? what extreames?
Scrib. From the sea's fury, drowneing; for last night Our shipp was splitt, wee cast upon these rocks.
Clowne. Sayd in a jest, in deede! Shipwreck by land![86] I perceive you tooke the woodden waggen for a ship and the violent rayne for the sea, and by cause some one of the wheeles broake and you cast into some water plashe, you thought the shipp had splitt and you had bene in danger of drowneinge.
Scrib. Are you then ignorant how, late in the even,With purpose to make better sale of usAnd to defraude thy maister, hee shipt usWith all the gold and jewels that hee had,All which save wee are perisht?
Clowne. But that caterpiller, that ould catamiting cankerworme, what's become of him?
Scrib. Dead I hope, with drinkinge of salte water.
Clowne. I would all of his profession had pledged him the same healthe. But how dothPalestratake this?
Scrib. Gladd to bee rid of such a slavery,Yet sadly weepinge for her casket's losse,That which included ample testimonyBothe of her name and parents.
Clowne. All her ill luck go with it![87]—Heere will be simple newes to bringe to my mayster when hee hears shee hath bene shippwreckt! Il make him beleeve I went a fishinge for her to sea and eather drewe her ashore in my netts, or batinge my hooke strooke her and drewe her upp by the gills with myne angle. Make you hast for I'l staye till you come back. [Exit.
Scrib. But this delaye had allmost putt me from What I was sent about; yes this is the place. [Knocks.
Enter Godfrey.
[Godf.] Whoes that that offers violens to these gates That never yet offended? What want you?
Scrib. That which the earthe Dothe forebidd none, and freely yelds to all, A little fayre springe water.
Godfr.—One of those giurlesBeelyke this morninge shippwrackt and now scapt?A dainty peece of maydes fleshe. Such sweete bittsAre not heare often swallowed, and my mouthWaters at this fine morsell.
Scrib. Water, frend; Tis that I crave for heaven's sake.
Godfr. Wee have none Of guift, unless you by't.
Scrib. Will you sell that The earthe affourds you gratis, and sett pryse Of what a foe would yeeld an enemy?
Godfr. Not, pretty lasse, so thou'lt afford mee that,Freely and without bargen, which not onlyOne frend will to another but oft tymesA stranger to a stranger.
Scrib. What's that, prithee?
Godfr. Only a kisse, sweete wensh.
Scrib. Ye are too familiar, I'l by none at that pryse: or fill my pale Or I'l returne back empty.
Godfr. Well for onceI will not greatly stand out, yet in hope,That what att our fyrst meetinge you'l not grantYou'l not denye at partinge; reatch thy pale.
Scrib. Quick as you love mee.
Godfr. As you love mee! right: Who[88] ever lov'd that lov'd not att fyrst sight? The poet's excellent sayeinge. [Exit[89] to draw water.
Scrib. What shall I saye or howe shall I excuseThis my longe staye? but nowe I cast myne eyesBacke on the roughe yet unappeased seas,I quake to thinke upon our dangers past.But see the fearefull object of a deathMore menacinge and affrightfull, a sea monsterCast from the deepes to swallow us ashore!Malevolent fate and black desaster stillPursues us to all places, but of allEnter Myldew and Sarlaboys to her.This, this the greatest, and to this one compardAll that are past but trifles. Oh that grand maisterOf mechall[90] lusts, that bulke of brothelree,That stillary of all infectious sinnes,Hath scapt the wrack, and with his fellowe guestAnd partner in corruption makes this waye,And with no tarde pace. Where shall I hyde mee!Whether shall I fly toPalestrabackAnd with this sadd relation kill her quiteThat's scarce recovered! rather, you hy powers,Then to prolonge our griefes, shorten our howers.[Exit.
Godfr. Where[91] is my daynty damosella? where?Mee thought the water mett mee the half wayAnd lept up full three stepps to meete my pale.This 'tis when as a man goes willinglyAbout his busines. Howe fresh a kisse will tastFrom her whyte lipps! and every part besydesFrom head to toe have bin so lately ducktAnd rincht in the salt water. Wheres my sweete?Not heare? no where? why, hoe, my whytinge mopp[92]Late scapt from feedinge haddocks! ha, what, gone?Nay then, go thou too that shee sent mee for,To him that next shall find thee! yet not so:This learned pale instructs mee by these lettersThat it beelonges unto this monastery.And iff it shoold be lost by my defaultI may be chardged with theft or sacriledge.No, I'l deliver it to the owners suer,[93]And this the place.
Enter the Bawde Mildewe and Sarlaboyse.
Mild. Hee that woold stoody to bee miserableLett him forsake the land and putt to sea.What widgeing,[94] that hath any voyce at all,Would trust his safety to a rotten plankeThat hath on earthe sounde footinge!
Sarlab. None but madmen.
Mild. Why thou of none, thrifty and well advised,Stryvest thou to make mee such, where's now the gayneAnd proffitt promist? the riche marchandyseOf lust and whooringe? the greate usuryGot by the sale of wantons? these cursed jewelryesWith all the wealthe and treasure that I had,[95]All perisht in one bottom, and all, all,Through thy malicious counsell.
Sarlab. Curse thy selfe.The trusty bark, ore laden with thy sinnes,Baudryes, grosse lyes, thy theft and perjuryesBeesydes the burdene of thy ill gott gooddes,Not able to indure so greate a weightWas forct to sinke beneathe them.[96]
Mild. Out, dogge!
Sarl. Out, devill!
Mild. By thee I am made nothinge. Oh my giurlesYou sweete and never faylinge marchandyse,Comodityes in all coasts, worthy coyne,Christiane or heathen! by whom in distressesI coold have raysed a fortune! more undooneThat I should loose you thus!
Sarl. I knowe hee had ratherSee halfe a hundred of them burnt[97] a landThen one destroyde by water. But, ohNeptune,I feare I have supt so much of thy salt brotheTwill bringe mee to a feavour.
Mild. Oh myPalestraAnd fayreScribonia, weare but you too safe, Yet som hope weare reserved me.
Sarl. I praye,Mildewe, When you so early to the bottom dyv'd, For whom weare you a fishinge?
Mild. Marry, for maydens; Woold I knewe howe to catch them. But my gutts, Howe they are sweld with sea brine!
Sarl. Tis good phisick To cure thee of the mangy.
Mild. Wretched man!That have no more left of a magazineThen these wett cloathes upon mee, nay the woorstOf all I had and purposely put onOnly to lyv a shipp-board.
Sarl. Once to-day Thou wert in wealthe above mee, nowe the seas have Left us an equall portion.
Mild. In all the wourld I vowe I am not woorthe a lighted faggott Or a poore pan of charcoale.
Sarl. Justly punishtThou that hast all thy lyfe tyme dealt in fyre-woorks,Stoves and hott bathes to sweet in, nowe to haveThy teethe to falter in thy head for couldNimbler then virginall Jacks.[98]
Mild. Th'art a sweete guest.
Sarl. Too good for such an host, better to have binLodgd in som spittle; or, if possible,To bee imprisoned in som surgeon's boxThat smells of salves and plasters.
Mild. Nowe what sharke Or wyde-mouth'd whale shall swallowe upp my budgett, May it at th'instant choake him!
Sarl. Cursedly twas got, And nowe thy curse goes with it.
Mild. But those giurles!Nought so much greives mee as to part with themBefore they lost theire maiden-headds. Had they lyvdTill I had seen them women, and oth' trade,My tast and care bestowed to bringe them uppI should have thought well spent, which nowe with themIs meerely cast away.
Enter Godfrey.
Sarlab. Peace now your pratinge and heare another spirit.
Godfr.[99] The pale religious, which was the pledgeOf a kisse lascivious, I have given backe,Ey, and to boote the water; but withinThere's such a coyle betwixt the 2 young giurlesSuch quakinge, shakinge, quiveringe, shiveringeSuch cryeinge, and such talk of flyinge, then of hyding,And that there's no abydinge; one cryes out and calls,The others redy to breake downe the walls;Then weepinge they whisper together,And saye they woold roone if they knew whither,And are indeede putt to such strange affrightsThat I was afrayde they weare hunted with sprights,And therefore cam and left them: lass, poor giurles,They are in piteous feare.
Mild. Hee talkt of guerles: why may not these bee they, Escapt as wee? staye, younge man, good frend, staye.
Godf. Too ould drown'd ratts: I'l have som sport with them, And though I pitty those I'l play with these.
Mild. What gurles weare those thou spakest of?
Sarl. Tell us fyrst Where wee might finde som comfort.
Godf. Lett us oh lett us bee advys'dAnd living still to all men,So though wee bee but midle sizdWee shalbe held no small men.
Mild. Concerning these fayre damosels, speake of that.
Sarl. Which now concernes us most, where may wee meete With warmth, with foode, and shelter?
Godf. Oh thou that dost demand of meeSom fyre, som meate and harbor,I see thou lately hast ben washt,HathNeptuneben thy barbor?
Sarl. This fellowe mearely flowtes our misery, And laughs att our distresses.
Mild. But, kind frende, Concerninge these yonge women, are they fayre?
Godf. Fayre flesh and cleane they bothe appeare And not lyke gypsies umber'd.
Mild. How many?
Godf. Just as thou and I when wee are Once but number'd.
Mild. Oh,Sarleboys, there's comfort in these woords; They have allredy warmed my hart within, Why may not these bee they?
Sarl. Bee they or not,I had rather see one caudell downe my throate,To wash downe this salt-water, than bee maysterOf all the wenshes lyveinge.
Mild. Oh where, where, Where might I see too such?
Godf. Thou that goest sydewayes lyke a crabb, gapst on meelyke an oyster,Followe thy flat nose and smell them there, in th'out part ofthis cloyster.
Mild. Oh maye this peece of earthe proove happy to mee As hath the sea bin fatall.
Sarl. I'l followe and coold wish Boath cloyster and whole villadge weare a fyre Only to dry my clothes by.
Godf. Marry hange you You that so late scaped drowning for I take you For too pestiferous rascalls.
Exeunt.
Explicit Actus 2.
Act 3.
Enter the Lady de Averne with a letter in her hand readinge, and with her mayde.
Lady. And howe came you by this?
Mayde. Followinge you to th'chappellAnd I protest not thinking anythinge,FryarJhono'th suddeine pluckt mee by the sleeveAnd whisperd in myne eare to give that to you,But privatly, bycause it was a thingeOnly toweard your person.
Lady. Twas well doonne; But prithee do no more so, for this tyme Tak't for a warninge.
Mayde. Madam I am skool'd.
Lady. Doo so, or ever loose me. Heeres[100] sweet stuffe!Can this be in a vowed monastick lyfeOr to be fownd in churchmen? 'tis a questionWhether to smyle or vex, to laughe or storme,Bycause in this I finde the cause of boathe.What might this sawcy fellowe spy in meeTo incorradge such a boldnes? yes this letterInstructs mee what: he seythe my affabilityAnd modest smiles, still gracinge his salutes,Moovd him to wryte. Oh what a chary care thenHad womene neede have boathe of lipps and eyesWhen every fayre woord's censur'd liberty,And every kind looke meere licensiousnes!I have bin hitherto so greate a strangerTo these unus'd temptations that in trutheI knowe not howe to take this. Sylly fryar!Madnes or folly, one of these't must bee.If th'one I pity, at the other laughe,And so no more reguard it.
Maid. Madam, if ought bee in that letter ill, Mee thinks 'tis good [that] you can tak't so well.
Lady. Peace you; a braineles weake, besotted fellowe!But lett mee better recollect myself.Madnes nor folly, and add lust to them,Durst not in fury, heate, or Ignorans,Have tempted my unquestioned chastityWithout a fowrth abetter, jealousy.The more I ponder that, I more suspectBy that my Lord should have a hand in this,And,[101] knowinge there's such difference in our yeares,To proove my feythe might putt this triall on mee.Else how durst such a poore penurious fryarOppose such an unheard of ImpudensGaynst my incensed fury and revendge?My best is therefore, as I am innocent,To stooddy myne owne safety, showe this letter,Which one [?] my charity woold have conceiled,And rather give him upp a sacrificeTo my lord's just incensement then indangerMyne owne unblemisht truthe and loyaltyBy incurringe his displeasure; heare hee coms.
Enter the Lord de Averne with som followers; his man Denis
L. Averne. Howe, Lady? reading?
Lady. Yes, a letter, sir.
L. Averne. Imparts it any newes?
Lady. Yes, syr, strange newes, And scarce to bee beleaved.
Lord Av. Forreyne.
Lady. Nay, domestick, Tis howsehould busines all.
Lord Av. May I impart it?
Lady. Oh, syr, in any case,As one it most concernes; but I intreate you,Reade it with patiens; the simplicityOf him that writte it will afford you mirthe,Or else his mallice spleane.—Nowe by his temperAnd change of countenance I shall easily findWhose hand was cheife in this.
Lord Av. All leave the place.
Denis. We shall, syr.
Lord Av. PossibleThat this shoold bee in man, nay in man vowedUnto a strickt abstemious chastity!From my owne creature and from one I feede,Nay from a place built in my holiest vowes,Establisht in my purpose in my lyfe,Maintayn'd from my revenue, after deathFirm'd and assur'd to all posterityes—That that shoold breede such vipers!
Lady. Patiens, syr; the fellowe suer is madd.
Lord Av. I can be madd as hee too and I will.Thus to abuse my goodnes! in a deedeSom woold hold meritorious, att the leastIntended for an act of piety,To suffer in my zeale! nay to bee mocktIn my devotion, by these empty dronesThat feede upon the honey of my hyve!To invert my good intentements, turne this nest[Ink: paper ready.I built for prayer unto a bedd of sinnes!Which thus I'l punish; this religious place,Once vowed to sanctity, I'l undermyneAnd in one instant blowe the structure uppWith all th'unhallowed covent.
Lady. Praye, no extreames: Where one offends shall for his heighnous fact So many suffer? there's no justyce in't.
Lord Av. Som justyce I would showe them heare on earthe Before they finde it multiplyed in heaven.
Lady. For my sake, syr, do not for one man's errorDestroy a woorke of perpetuity,By which your name shall lyve. One man offends;Lett the delinquent suffer.
Lord Av. So't shallbe, And thou hast well advysed. Som pen and Inke theire!
Lady. What purpose you?
Lord Av. That's soly to my selfe And in my fyxt thoughts stands irreproovable.
Enter Dennis with pen, inke, and paper.
Syr, heares pen inke and paper.
Lord Av. To his letter My self will give him answer. (writes)
Denis. Suer all's not well that on the suddane thus My lord is so distempered.
Lady. I have, I feare,Styr'd such a heate, that nought save blood will quensh:But wish my teares might doo't; hee's full of storme,And that in him will not bee easily calmd.His rage and troble both pronounce him guiltlesOf this attempt, which makes mee rather doubtHee may proove too seveare in his revendge,Which I with all indevour will preventYet to the most censorious I appeale,What coold I lesse have doone to save myne honorFrom suffringe beneathe skandall?
Lord Av. See, heare's all:'Tis short and sweete, wryte this in your own handWithout exchange of the least sillable.Insert in copiinge no suspitious dash,No doubtfull comma; then subscribe your name,Seal't then with your own signet and dispatche itAs I will have dyrected; doo't, I charge you,Without the least demurre or fallacy.By dooinge this you shall prevent distrustOr future breach beetwixt us; you shall furtherExpresse a just obediens.
Lady. Syr, I shall, What ere your concealed purpose bee, I shall.
Lord Av. Provyde mee horses, I will ryde.
Denis. When, syr?
Lord Av. Instantly, after dinner, and gie't out I am not to returne till three dayes hence, So spreade it throughe the howse.
Denis. What followers, Syr, Meane you to take alonge?
Lord Av. Thyself, no more, For 'tis a private busines, and withall; Provyde mee,—harke thyne eare.
Denis. A stronge one, Syrr.
Lord Av. One that will howld; withall give pryvate orderAt night the guarden gates may bee left open,By whiche wee may returne unknowne to any.What I intend lyes heare.
Denis. All wee servants Are bownd to doo, but not examine what; That's out of our comission.
Lord Av. 'Twixt us too I shall resolve thee further.
Denis. I am gone, Syr.
Lord Av. Nowe, sweete ladye, have you doon?
Lady. As you commanded.
Lord Av. Itt wants nothinge noweBut seale and superscription; I'l see't doone.And marke mee nowe; at evensonge, passinge throughThe cloyster to the chappell, when the fryarAmongst the rest bowes with his wonted duckes,Add rather then deminish from your smilesAnd wonted favours. Let this shee post thenConveigh this letter to the fryar's close fist,Who no dowbt gapes for answer.
Lady. All shall beeAs you instructe; but punishe, syr, with pitty;Putt him to payne or shame, but deathe, alas,Is too seveare.
Lord Av. Tush, wyfe, feare not; think'st thou Ile quale[102] a churchman? [Exeunt.
Enter after a great noyse within, the Clowne, meetinge with Ashburne and Godfrey.
Clowne. If this villadge bee inhabited with men as this place within is with monsters; if with men that have eyes and can distinguishe bewty, or that have hartes and therfore saver of pitty; if you bee fathers and know what belonges to children, or christians and therefore what is ment by charity; if husbandmen and have hope of your harvest, or marchants of your trade's increase; if fishermen that would thryve by your labours, or any of all these that would be knowne by your honesty—
Ashburne. Many of those thou namest have place in us, Great'st part if not all.
Clowne. Then lend your helpeinge hands to succor, releive, defend, deliver, save, serve, patronadge, abett and mynteyn—
Ashb. Whom, what?
Clowne. Bewty, vertue, purity, syncerity, softnes, sweetenes, innocens, and chastity.
Ashb. Gainst what? gainst whome?
Cl. Oppression, frawde, rudenes, reproch, synn, shame, debate, discourse, theft, rapine, contempt of religion and breach of sanctury, against a magazine of misdemeanors and a whole monopoly of mischeif.
Godf. I knowe the busines, syr, if in that placeThese are the too distressed wrecks at seaWe sawe this morninge floatinge, sweeter guerlesI never yet sett ey on, and opprestBy too ill lookeinge raskells that to warme themWisht all the towne a bonefire—
Ashb. Miscreant slaves!For one younge damsell's sake I once cald daughter,And in the absens of there greater frends,I'l stand betwixt them and these injuryes.
Clowne. These are they after whome I have been seeking, and my mayster was enquiringe. If you will but secure them heare in the villadge whilst I carry woord to my mayster in the citty, you shall doo me a curtesye and him a most noble offyce.[103]
Ashb. It was no more then promisse, and I shooldFayle in my goodnes not to see that doone.Post to thy mayster, bid him meete us heare:Mean tyme my menn shall rayse the villagersBoathe in the reskewe of these innocent maydesAnd in defens of holly priveledge.
Clowne. I fly lyke the winds.
Godf. And I'l go call the pesants To rayse another tempest.
[Exeunt[104] Clown and Godfrey.
Ashb. Hasten boathe And till ayde com I'l laye myne eare and listen To heare what further coyle is kept within: All's silent on the sudden.Musick.
[Song within.]
(1) Helpe, Helpe, oh ayde a wretched maydeor els we are undoon then.
(2) And have I caught, and have I caught you?in vayne it is to roonne then.
(1) Som reskewe then[105] from gods or menredeeme us from these crosses!
(2) Tis all in vayne, since nowe I gainepart of my former losses.
(1) Oh heaven, defend! what, yet no endof these our strange desasters?
(2) No favour's knowne, no pittye's showneto them that fly there maysters.
(1) Why to defame, reproch, and shamepoor innocents thus dragge yee?
(2) With[106] your offens there's no dispence:away then! wherefore lagge yee?
A tumult within and sudden noyse. Enter at one doore Godfrey with country fellowes for there reskewe, at the other Mildewe, Sarlaboys, Palestra, Scribonia.
Palest. Where, in what place shall wee bestowe our selfes From this injust man's fury?
Scrib. If compeld And dragg'd from sanctuary by prophane hands, Where shall we flye to safety?
Ashb. Wheither, ifNot unto us? wee often see the godsGive and bequeathe there justyce unto men,Which wee as fythefully [sic] will see performed.
All. Downe with these saucy companyons!
Godf. Downe with these sacraligious silsepaereales [?], these unsanctifiedSarlaboysesthat woold make a very seralia of the sanctuary, and are meare renegadoes to all religion!
Mild. Stay, hold, are you bandetty? rovers, theives,And wayte you heare to robb and pilladge usThe sea so late hathe ryfled? these are myne,My chattells and my goodes, nor can you cease themAs wrecks; I appeale unto the admirall.
Ash. His power I in his absens will supply,And cease yee all as forfett; these as gooddsYou as superfluous ladinge, till that coortShall compremise betwixt us.
Mild. I'the meanetymeLett mee possesse myne owne; these are my slavesMy utensills, my mooveables, and boughtWith myne owne private coyne.
Sarl. To which I am witnes.
Mild. And by the heyre I'l dragge them as myne owne, Wear't from the holly alter.
Pal. Succor!
Scrib. Helpe!
Ashb. Are they not Christians?
Mild. Yes.
Ash. What nation?
Mild.Englishe.
Ashb. In myne owne country borne and shall not I Stand as theire champion then? I tell thee, pesant,England's, no broode for slaves.
Pal. Oh Syr to you Wee fly as to a father.
Ashb. And I'l guard you As weare you myne owne children.
Mild. Gainst there lord, Owner and mayster?
Ashb. None is lordd with usBut such as are freeborne; our Christian lawesDo not allowe such to bee bought or souldFor any Bawde or pander to hyre suchTo comon prostitution. Heere they stand:Tutch but a garment, nay a heyre of theresWith thy least finger, thy bald head I'l sinkeBelowe thy gowtye foote.
Mild. I am opprest, Is theire no lawe inFrance?
Ashb. Yes, Syr, to punish These chastityes seducers.
Mild. Give me fyar,I will not leive of all this monasteryOf you or these, of what's combustible,Naye of my self, one moiety unconsumed.
Godf. His frend before him wisht the towne a fyre, Now hee would burne the cloyster: too arch-pillers![107]
Ashb. And lyke suchOur purpose is to use them. Dare not, miscreant,But to give these a menace whom thou calst thyne,No not by beck or nod; if thou but styer [stir]To doo unto this howse of sanctityDamadge or outrage, I will lay thee prostrateBeneathe these staves and halberts.
Mild. Is this lawe?
Godf. YesStaffords[108] lawe.
Ashb. Naye, feare not, pretty guerles;The fryars them selfs, weare they not at theire prayersWold have doon more than this in just defensOf theire immunityes; but in theire absensI stand for them, nor shall you part from henceOr dare to sqeelche till they themselves be judge.Of injurye doone to this sacred place,Or such as I have sent for make appearanceTo clayme what thou unjustly calst thyne owne.
Godf. Nay, thou shall stand; wee have too stringes to our Bow.
Ashb. If hee but styer then stryke.
Mild. ThisStaffordlaw,Which I till nowe heard never nam'd inFrance,Is for the present a more fearefull coortThen chancery or star-chamber. I want motion;You have made [me] a statue, a meere Imadge.
Godf.[109] Styer and thou diest: weele maule you.
Mild. Iff heare I can have none, lett me depart To seake elcewhere for justyce.
Sarl. Keepe him prisoner, And sett mee free to finde some advocate To pleade in his just cause.
Godf. Neather styrre In payne of tooFrenshcrownes, and they so crack[t] Never more to passe for currant.
Ashb. That presume.
Mild. Misery of miseryes! I am bound hand and foote, And yet boath legges and armes at liberty.
Godf. Yes by the lawe caldStafforde.
Enter Mr. Raphael, Mr. Treadway and the Clowne.
Raph. Durst then the slave use myPalestrathus, And dragge her by the heyre from sanctuary?
Clowne. Most trew, Syr.
Raph. Why did'st not kill him?
Clowne. If I had had but a swoard I had doon't, but I sought the villadge through and cold find neare a cutter.
Raph. Weare there no skattered stones lye in the streete To have beate his breynes out?
Clowne. Not a stone to throwe att a dogg.
Raph. Had'st thou not heeles
Clowne. Yes to have kickt him lyke a dogge, but I reserved them to roon the more nimbly about your busines.
Pal. I nowe spye a newe sanctuary, his armes, In which I may pursue security. MyRaphael!
Raph. MyPalestra, art thou safe?Beefore I give due thankes to this good man,Which tyme shall paye in all pluralityes,Oh shewe mee but that monster of mankindAnd shame of men on whom to bee revendgd!
Mild. The storme at sea was not more terrible Then this the land now threatens; againe undoone, Over and over wretched!
Clowne. See the limbe Of his ould syre the Devill.
Raph. Perjured slave!Perfidious, but that I abhore to takeThe hangman's office from him, this should openA doore by which thy black soule should fly outUnto assured damnation.
Tread. Bee more patient; Proceede with him after a legal course, And bee not sweyde by fury.
Raph. Well advys'd: What can thy false toonge pleide in thy excuse, Thou volume of all vyces?
Mild. Why, what not?
Raph. Is thy hart sear'd, thy browe made impudent,And all thy malefactions crownd[110] with lyesAgainst just testates and apparent truthes?When I had payde full ransom for this pryze,Why didst thou beare her hence?
Mild. I did not doo't,— These bee my witnes; have I borne her hence When I have brought her to thee?
Raph. Thy bawdes rhethorick Shall not excuse thee thus. Frends guarde him safe.
Clowne. We will see his fooles coate guarded,[111] ey and reguarded too from slipping out of our fingers.
Godf.[112] Weel finde amongst us more then … him; fower elbowes elbowe him off all sydes, gentlemen. It shall appeare beefore hee parts with us that hee hathe shewed him self no better then a coxcomb.
Tread. Beleeve mee nowe, I do not blame my frendeTo fishe in trobled streames for such a pearle,Or digge in black mowled for so ritch a myne;But to redeeme a chast and inocent sowleForthe from the fierye jawes of lust and hell,Exprest a most comended charitye.What second bewtyes that … frend,That tremblinge flyes from his infectious illsTo patronise her youth and inocenceBeneathe that goode man's goodnes—
Raph. Alyke suffersWith her in all distresses, lyke in years,In vertue, no way differing of our nation;Who knowes but neare all yee too?
Tread. I feele somthingeGrowinge on mee, I know not howe to style,Pitty or love, synce it hath tast of boathe.And sinne itt weare such parity in all thinges,Age, mindes, wrecks, bondadge, pursiutes, injuryesShoold nowe bee separate; the one be freedeThe t'other left in durance, for the wantAnd pious tender of so smalle a somme.I somwhat have in purpose.
Raph. Dragge them boathe Before the magistrate.
Sarlab. Mee? wherefore? why?
Godf. As his abettor and ill counseller: One would have burnt the villadge, and the other Threatned to fyar the cloyster.
Raph. Boathe acts capitall And worthy seveare censure.
Mild. Though thou pleedst interestIn waye of earnest inPalestra, yetRobb mee not quite, give me the tother backe,My only portion left me by the seaAnd stock to sett upp trade by.
Scrib. Rather torture mee With any violent deathe.
Tread. Leive them in trust And chardge of this grave reverent gentleman, Untill you heire the sentence of the coort.
Ashb. I willingly accept theire patronadge: Heere att my howse they shall have meate and harbour.
Raph. Nobly spoke: Meane tyme hale these to'th coort.
Mild. MyPalestra, What? not one woord of pitye?
Raph. Stopp his mouthe.
Mild. MyScribonia, Wilt thou intreate them neather?
Tread. Tyme's but trifled; Away with them to justyce!
Mild. Take my skinne then, Synce nothinge else is left mee.
Clown. That's rotten allredy and will neather make goodd leather nor parchement … theire.
[Exeunt.
Ashb. Com, damsalls, followe mee where I shall leade:I have a cross wyfe at home I tell you that,But one that I presume will not bee jealousOf too such harmeles sowles.
Pal. You are to us A patron and defender.
Scrib. Bounde unto you Not as an host but father.
[Exeunt.
Enter the Lord de Averne, his Lady, Dennis and the waytinge mayde.
Lord Av. Are all thinges redye as I gave in chardge?
Denys. Redy, syr.
Lord Av. Inoughe; and you deliver'd it To his owne hands?
Mayde. I did.
Lord Av. Howe did hee tak't?
Mayde. With smiles and seeminge joy.
Lord Av. Sorrowe and shame I feare will bee the sadd end on't.
Lady Av. Syr, you'r troubled.
Lord Av. I would not have you so; pray, to your rest;You shall remove mee from all jelosyesIf you betake you to your sowndest sleeps,And without more inquiry.
Lady Av. Syr, rememberThat all offences are not woorthy deathe:Fellowny, murder, treason and such lykeOf that grosse nature maye be capitall;Not folly, error, trespasse.
Lord Av. You advyse well,Lett mee advyse you lyke-wyse: instantlyRetyre in to your chamber, without noyseReply or question, least part of that rageIs bent gainst him you turne upon your self,Which is not for your safety.
Lady Av. Syr, good night. [Exit.[113]
Lord Av. How goes the hower?
Denis. Tis almost tenn.
Lord Av. The tyme of our appointment: you attendUpon his knocks and give him free admittans;Beinge entred, refer him into this place;That doon, returne then to your Ladye's chamberThere locke your self fast in.
Mayde. My lorde, I shall.— Poore fryare, I feare theyl put thee to thy penance Before they have confest thee.
Lord Av. Come, withdrawe; The watchwoordes not yet given.
Enter the Fryar with a letter.
Fr. Jhon. 'Tis her owne pen, I knwe it, synce shee settHer hand to establishe our foundation,And, sweete soule, shee hath writt a second tymeTo build mee upp anewe:—My Lord is riddA three dayes jorney, loose not this advantadgeBut take tyme by the fore-topp. Yes I willBy the fore-topp and topp-gallant.At the posterneShee to whose hand you gave your letter, Fryar,Attends for your despatch:—my businesI hope shalbee despatcht then:—Fare you well,Fayle mee this night and ever. I'l sooner forfettAll pleasures, hopes, preferments, with th'assuranceOf a longe lyfe blest with most happy howers,Then this one night's contentment.
Mayde. Ha, who's theire? FryarJhon?
Fr. Jhon. The same: you, mystresseMillisentMy Ladye's gentlewoman?
Mayde. I am the closett That treasures all her counsells.
Fr. Jhon. Is all cleare?
Mayde. As such a dark night can bee—to one, I feare, That scarce will looke on daye more.
Fr. Jhon. Where's my lady?
Mayde. Attends you in her chamber.
Fr. Jhon. Guide mee too't, Nay, quickly guerle:—how I allredy surfett In this nights expectation!
Mayde. Staye you heare In this withdraweinge roome, I'l fetch a light For safeguard of your shinnes.
Denis. Shee might have sayde For safeguard of his necke.
Mayde. My sceane's doone; The next act lyes amongst them. [Exit.[114]
Fr. Jhon. My part dothe but beginne nowe and I'l act itIn exquisite cleane linnen; and this cappProffred of purpose, least I should smell fryar.What differ wee i'th darke, save our shaven crowne,From gentlemen, nay Lords? nature hath araied usAs well as the best layemen: why should laweRestreyne from us what is allowed to them?Lett it curbe fooles and idiots, such as throughe follyWill not, or nycenes dare not, tast what's sweete,Alyke made for all pallats.
Lord Av. Howe the slave Insults in his damnation! cease the wretch, I can indure no lonnger.