ACT II., SCENE I.

EnterSanmartino,Captain,Soldier, andBrowfildora.

Capt.Come on, you Atlases of Arragon:You by whose powers the Castilian cloudWas forc'd to vanish. We have ferk'd FlorentioIn the right arm; made the enamour'd DonRetire to doleful tent.San.We sallied bravely.Capt.Thou didst i' th' sally fight like lightning, Conde;Let the air play with thy plume, most puissant peer.No Conde Sanmartino now, but CondeSt George, that Cappadocian man-at-arms.Thou hast done wonders, wonders big with story,Fit to be sung in lofty epic strain;For writing which the poet shall behold,That which creates a Conde, gold; gold whichShall make him wanton with some suburb muse,And Hippocrene flow with Canary billow.Th' art high in feat of arms.San.Captain, I think I did my part.Capt.Base is the wight that thinks:[275]Let Condes small in spirit drink harsh sherry,Then quarrel with promoting knights, and fine for't:Thou art in mettle mighty, tough as steel,As Bilboa or Toledo steel. Fight on,Let acres sink, and bank of money melt;Forsake thy lady's lap, and sleep with usUpon the bed of honour, the chill earth.'Tis that will make thee held a potent peer,'Mong men o' th' pike, of buff, and bandolier.San.Thou speak'st brave language, captain.Capt.I'll maintain'Tis Arragonian, Conde.Brow.Captain Cedar,Though in thy language lofty, give a shrubLeave to salute thee. Sure, we two are nearIn blood and great attempt. Don HerculesWas, as I read in Chaldean chronicle,Our common ancestor; Don Hercules,Who rifled nymph on top of Apennine.Capt.Small imp, avaunt!Brow.Stout sturdy oak, that growsSo high in field of Mars, O, let no tempestShake thee from hence! And now I have with labourAttain'd thy language, I'll thy truchman[276]be.Interpret for thee to those smaller souls,Who wonder when they understand not: soulsWhom courtiers' gaudy outside captivatesAnd plume of coronel.Capt.I must expire,Not talk to fish. Seest thou that man of match?Though small in stature, mighty he's in soul,And rich in gifts of mind, though poor in robes:Reward, like Philip's heir, his daring arm,Which fetch'd thee off from danger. Once again,Most doughty Don, adieu.Brow.Great Don Saltpetre,I am the servant of thy fam'd caliver.San.These are strong lines. Now, friend, art thou o' th' garrison?Sol.If't please your lordship.San.It doth not please me,It is indifferent: I care not what thou art.Art thou extremely poor?Sol.If't please your lordship.San.No, not that neither. Why should I malignSo far thy fortune as to wish thee poor?'Twere safer for my purse if thou wert rich;Then all reward were base.Sol.If't please your lordship.San.O, no more prologue! Prythee, the first scene:To the business, man.Sol.Then I must tell your lordship,I scorn that wealth makes you thus wanton, andThat wit which fools you. Did the royal favourShine but on you, without enlarging warmthTo any other, I in this torn outsideShould laugh at you, if insolent.San.This is saucy.Sol.I tell thee, petulant lord, I'll cut thy throat,Unless thou learn more honour.San.What shall I do?

Capt.Come on, you Atlases of Arragon:You by whose powers the Castilian cloudWas forc'd to vanish. We have ferk'd FlorentioIn the right arm; made the enamour'd DonRetire to doleful tent.

San.We sallied bravely.

Capt.Thou didst i' th' sally fight like lightning, Conde;Let the air play with thy plume, most puissant peer.No Conde Sanmartino now, but CondeSt George, that Cappadocian man-at-arms.Thou hast done wonders, wonders big with story,Fit to be sung in lofty epic strain;For writing which the poet shall behold,That which creates a Conde, gold; gold whichShall make him wanton with some suburb muse,And Hippocrene flow with Canary billow.Th' art high in feat of arms.

San.Captain, I think I did my part.

Capt.Base is the wight that thinks:[275]Let Condes small in spirit drink harsh sherry,Then quarrel with promoting knights, and fine for't:Thou art in mettle mighty, tough as steel,As Bilboa or Toledo steel. Fight on,Let acres sink, and bank of money melt;Forsake thy lady's lap, and sleep with usUpon the bed of honour, the chill earth.'Tis that will make thee held a potent peer,'Mong men o' th' pike, of buff, and bandolier.

San.Thou speak'st brave language, captain.

Capt.I'll maintain'Tis Arragonian, Conde.

Brow.Captain Cedar,Though in thy language lofty, give a shrubLeave to salute thee. Sure, we two are nearIn blood and great attempt. Don HerculesWas, as I read in Chaldean chronicle,Our common ancestor; Don Hercules,Who rifled nymph on top of Apennine.

Capt.Small imp, avaunt!

Brow.Stout sturdy oak, that growsSo high in field of Mars, O, let no tempestShake thee from hence! And now I have with labourAttain'd thy language, I'll thy truchman[276]be.Interpret for thee to those smaller souls,Who wonder when they understand not: soulsWhom courtiers' gaudy outside captivatesAnd plume of coronel.

Capt.I must expire,Not talk to fish. Seest thou that man of match?Though small in stature, mighty he's in soul,And rich in gifts of mind, though poor in robes:Reward, like Philip's heir, his daring arm,Which fetch'd thee off from danger. Once again,Most doughty Don, adieu.

Brow.Great Don Saltpetre,I am the servant of thy fam'd caliver.

San.These are strong lines. Now, friend, art thou o' th' garrison?

Sol.If't please your lordship.

San.It doth not please me,It is indifferent: I care not what thou art.Art thou extremely poor?

Sol.If't please your lordship.

San.No, not that neither. Why should I malignSo far thy fortune as to wish thee poor?'Twere safer for my purse if thou wert rich;Then all reward were base.

Sol.If't please your lordship.

San.O, no more prologue! Prythee, the first scene:To the business, man.

Sol.Then I must tell your lordship,I scorn that wealth makes you thus wanton, andThat wit which fools you. Did the royal favourShine but on you, without enlarging warmthTo any other, I in this torn outsideShould laugh at you, if insolent.

San.This is saucy.

Sol.I tell thee, petulant lord, I'll cut thy throat,Unless thou learn more honour.

San.What shall I do?

EnterFlorianaandCleantha.

But see Cleantha! Not to be made Grandee,Would I she should discover me in parleyWith such coarse clothes. There, fellow, take that gold,And let me see thy face no more. Away!Sol.There 'tis again. I will not owe one hour

But see Cleantha! Not to be made Grandee,Would I she should discover me in parleyWith such coarse clothes. There, fellow, take that gold,And let me see thy face no more. Away!

Sol.There 'tis again. I will not owe one hour

[Throws back the money.

Of mirth to such a bounty: I can starveAt easier rate, than live beholden toThe boast of any giver. Lord! I scornThee, and that gold which first created thee.[ExitSoldier.Flo.That soldier seem'd to carry anger inHis look, my lord.San.What should his anger move me?Cle.O no, my lord: the world speaks wonders ofYour mighty puissance.Flo.'Tis my joy y'are safe.But why adventured you into this quarrel?[277]Cle.The queen will hardly thank your valour, sinceThey of Castile profess'd themselves her soldiers.San.The queen must pardon courage; men who areOf daring spirit, so they may but fight,Examine not the cause.Flo.She doth expect us.[Exit.Cle.I will attend her here, for here she givesDecastro audience. I must not loseThis lord yet, it so near concerns my mirth.San.Madam, I wonder with what confidenceYou, after such an injury, dare endangerDiscourse with me.Cle.I injure you, my lord,Whose favour I have courted with more zealThan well my sex can warrant; triumph notToo much upon my weakness, 'cause you haveGot victory o'er my heart; take not delightTo make my grief your sport.San.Be witty still,And keep me for a trophy of your pride.I hope to see that beauty at an ebb;Where will be then your overflow of servants?You'll then repent your pride.Cle.O never, never;If you'll particularise your vows to me—You, who to th' title of the courtly lordHave added that of valiant; and beshrew me,She's no good housewife of her fame that wantsA daring servant.San.This perhaps may work.[Aside.Cle.If she live single, he preserves her name,And scarce admits a whisper that the jealousMay construe points at her; and if she marry,He awes the husband, if by chance or weaknessShe have offended.San.This cannot be fiction.[Aside.Cle.Then, if she use but civil complimentTo a courtier bachelor, he straight bespeaksThe licence and the favours, and calls inSome wit into his counsel for the poesy;While I feel no temptation to such follyBut with a married lord.San.How, gentle madam?Cle.Our walks are privileg'd, our whispers safe,No fear of laying contracts to my charge,Nor much of scandal: and if there be cause,Who is so fond a gamester of his life,As merely out of spleen to stake it? But,My lord, I now suspect you constru'd illThat language I used to your lady, whenI told her of your love: but I presumeYou were not so dull-sighted as in thatNot to discern the best disguise for love.San.What a suspicious ass was I! How captious!I ne'er mistrusted my own wit before.Mischief, how dull was I!Cle.Pray turn your faceAway. Now know, when worth and valour areLed on by love, to win my favour. But—The queen!

Of mirth to such a bounty: I can starveAt easier rate, than live beholden toThe boast of any giver. Lord! I scornThee, and that gold which first created thee.[ExitSoldier.

Flo.That soldier seem'd to carry anger inHis look, my lord.

San.What should his anger move me?

Cle.O no, my lord: the world speaks wonders ofYour mighty puissance.

Flo.'Tis my joy y'are safe.But why adventured you into this quarrel?[277]

Cle.The queen will hardly thank your valour, sinceThey of Castile profess'd themselves her soldiers.

San.The queen must pardon courage; men who areOf daring spirit, so they may but fight,Examine not the cause.

Flo.She doth expect us.[Exit.

Cle.I will attend her here, for here she givesDecastro audience. I must not loseThis lord yet, it so near concerns my mirth.

San.Madam, I wonder with what confidenceYou, after such an injury, dare endangerDiscourse with me.

Cle.I injure you, my lord,Whose favour I have courted with more zealThan well my sex can warrant; triumph notToo much upon my weakness, 'cause you haveGot victory o'er my heart; take not delightTo make my grief your sport.

San.Be witty still,And keep me for a trophy of your pride.I hope to see that beauty at an ebb;Where will be then your overflow of servants?You'll then repent your pride.

Cle.O never, never;If you'll particularise your vows to me—You, who to th' title of the courtly lordHave added that of valiant; and beshrew me,She's no good housewife of her fame that wantsA daring servant.

San.This perhaps may work.[Aside.

Cle.If she live single, he preserves her name,And scarce admits a whisper that the jealousMay construe points at her; and if she marry,He awes the husband, if by chance or weaknessShe have offended.

San.This cannot be fiction.[Aside.

Cle.Then, if she use but civil complimentTo a courtier bachelor, he straight bespeaksThe licence and the favours, and calls inSome wit into his counsel for the poesy;While I feel no temptation to such follyBut with a married lord.

San.How, gentle madam?

Cle.Our walks are privileg'd, our whispers safe,No fear of laying contracts to my charge,Nor much of scandal: and if there be cause,Who is so fond a gamester of his life,As merely out of spleen to stake it? But,My lord, I now suspect you constru'd illThat language I used to your lady, whenI told her of your love: but I presumeYou were not so dull-sighted as in thatNot to discern the best disguise for love.

San.What a suspicious ass was I! How captious!I ne'er mistrusted my own wit before.Mischief, how dull was I!

Cle.Pray turn your faceAway. Now know, when worth and valour areLed on by love, to win my favour. But—The queen!

EnterQueen,Decastro,Ossuna,Floriana, &c.

San.Divine Cleantha! Noblest lady!Dec.Ossuna, let me beg thy care: though weBravely repuls'd the enemy, they seemTo threaten a new assault.Oss.Command your servant.Dec.Bear then a vigilant eye, and by your scoutsLearn if they any new attempt prepare.[ExitOssuna.May't please your majesty, command these manyEars from your presence.Queen.Good my lord, you whoHave power to guide your queen, may make our presenceOr full or empty, as you please.Dec.Then withYour licence, madam, they may all withdraw.Queen.Not with our licence. If your usurped greatnessWill banish all attendance from our person,I must remain alone; but not a manStir hence with our good liking.Dec.If your will(Averse from sober counsel) would submitTo safe advice——Queen.You have instructed itTo more obedience than I guess my birthDid e'er intend. But pray, my lord, teach meTo know my fault, and I will find amendment,If not repentance, for it.Dec.Then, great madam,I must acquaint you that the supreme lawOf princes is the people's safety, whichYou have infring'd, and drawn thereby intoThe inward parts of this great state a mostContagious fever.Queen.Pray, no metaphor.Dec.You have invited war to interrupt,With its rude noise, the music of our peace:A foreign enemy gathers the fruitThe sweat and labour of your subjects planted:In the cool shadow of the vine we prun'dHe wantonly lies down, and roughly bidsThe owner press the grape, that with the juiceHis blood may swell up to lascivious heats.Queen.My lord, I answer not th' effects of war;But I must pay Castile all thankful serviceFor his fair charity.Dec.Do you then, madam,Reckon on mischief as a charity?Queen.Yes, such a mischief as is merciful,And I a queen oppress'd. But how dares he,Whose duty ought with reverence obey,And not dispute the counsels of his princess,Question my actions? Whence, my lord, springs thisIll-tutor'd privilege?Dec.From the zeal I oweThe honour of our nation, over whichKings rule but at the courtesy of time.Queen.You are too bold; and I must tell your pride,It swells to insolence: for, were your natureNot hood-wink'd by your interest, you would praiseThe virtue of his courage, who took armsTo an injur'd lady's rescue.Dec.'Twas ambition,Greedy to make advantage of that breachBetween you and your people, arm'd Castile.Unpitied else you might have wept awayThe hours of your restraint.Queen.Poor erring man!Could thy arts raise a tempest blacker yet,Such as would fright thyself, it could not forOne moment cloud the splendour of my soul,Misfortune may benight the wicked; she,Who knows no guilt, can sink beneath no fear.Dec.Your majesty mistakes the humble aimOf my address. I come not to disturbTh' harmonious calm your soul enjoys: may pleasureLive there enthron'd, till you yourself shall wooDeath to enlarge it! May felicities,Great as th' ideas of philosophy,Wait still on your delight! May fate conspireTo make you rich and envied!Queen.Pray, my lord,Explain the riddle. By the cadence ofYour language, I could guess you have intentsFar gentler than your actions.Dec.If your care,Great madam, would convey into your heartThe story of my love: my love, a flame——Queen.Leave off this history of love and flame,And honestly confess your fears, my lord,Lest Castile should correct you.Dec.Correct me!No, madam, I have forc'd them t' a retreat,And given my fine young general cause to wishHe had not left his amorous attemptsOn ladies to assault our city.Queen.But he is not wounded?Dec.Not to death, perhaps;But certainly w' have open'd him a vein,Will cure the fever of his blood.Queen.O, stay!Dec.Torment! And doth she weep? I might have fall'nDown from some murdering precipice to dust,And miss'd the mercy of one tear, though itWould have redeem'd me back to life again.Accurs'd be that felicity that mustDepend on woman's passion.[Aside.Queen.[Solil.] Florentio!If in my quarrel thou too suddenlyArt lost i' th' shades of death, O, let me findThe holy vault where thy pale earth must lie,There will I grow and wither.Dec.This is strange!My heart swells much too big to be kept in.[Aside.Queen.[Solil.] But if that providence, which rules the world,Hath, to preserve the stock of virtue, keptThee yet alive——Dec.And what, if yet alive?Pray, recollect your reason, and considerMy long and faithful service to your crown;The fame of my progenitors, and thatDevotion the whole kingdom bears me. HowHath nature punish'd me, that, bringing allThe strength of argument to force your judgment,I cannot move your love?Queen.My lord, you pleadWith so much arrogance, and tell a storySo gallant for yourself, as if I wereExposed a prize to the cunning'st orator.Dec.No, madam, humbler far than the tann'd slaveTied to th' oar, I here throw down myself[Kneels.And all my victories. Dispose of meTo death; for what hath life merits esteem?What tie, alas! can I have to the world,Since you disdain my love?Flo.Will you permitThe general kneel so long?Queen.Fear not, Floriana;My lord knows how to rise, though I should striveTo hinder it.Dec.Here, statue-like, I'll fixFor ever, till your pity (for your loveI must despair) enforce a life within me.

San.Divine Cleantha! Noblest lady!

Dec.Ossuna, let me beg thy care: though weBravely repuls'd the enemy, they seemTo threaten a new assault.

Oss.Command your servant.

Dec.Bear then a vigilant eye, and by your scoutsLearn if they any new attempt prepare.[ExitOssuna.May't please your majesty, command these manyEars from your presence.

Queen.Good my lord, you whoHave power to guide your queen, may make our presenceOr full or empty, as you please.

Dec.Then withYour licence, madam, they may all withdraw.

Queen.Not with our licence. If your usurped greatnessWill banish all attendance from our person,I must remain alone; but not a manStir hence with our good liking.

Dec.If your will(Averse from sober counsel) would submitTo safe advice——

Queen.You have instructed itTo more obedience than I guess my birthDid e'er intend. But pray, my lord, teach meTo know my fault, and I will find amendment,If not repentance, for it.

Dec.Then, great madam,I must acquaint you that the supreme lawOf princes is the people's safety, whichYou have infring'd, and drawn thereby intoThe inward parts of this great state a mostContagious fever.

Queen.Pray, no metaphor.

Dec.You have invited war to interrupt,With its rude noise, the music of our peace:A foreign enemy gathers the fruitThe sweat and labour of your subjects planted:In the cool shadow of the vine we prun'dHe wantonly lies down, and roughly bidsThe owner press the grape, that with the juiceHis blood may swell up to lascivious heats.

Queen.My lord, I answer not th' effects of war;But I must pay Castile all thankful serviceFor his fair charity.

Dec.Do you then, madam,Reckon on mischief as a charity?

Queen.Yes, such a mischief as is merciful,And I a queen oppress'd. But how dares he,Whose duty ought with reverence obey,And not dispute the counsels of his princess,Question my actions? Whence, my lord, springs thisIll-tutor'd privilege?

Dec.From the zeal I oweThe honour of our nation, over whichKings rule but at the courtesy of time.

Queen.You are too bold; and I must tell your pride,It swells to insolence: for, were your natureNot hood-wink'd by your interest, you would praiseThe virtue of his courage, who took armsTo an injur'd lady's rescue.

Dec.'Twas ambition,Greedy to make advantage of that breachBetween you and your people, arm'd Castile.Unpitied else you might have wept awayThe hours of your restraint.

Queen.Poor erring man!Could thy arts raise a tempest blacker yet,Such as would fright thyself, it could not forOne moment cloud the splendour of my soul,Misfortune may benight the wicked; she,Who knows no guilt, can sink beneath no fear.

Dec.Your majesty mistakes the humble aimOf my address. I come not to disturbTh' harmonious calm your soul enjoys: may pleasureLive there enthron'd, till you yourself shall wooDeath to enlarge it! May felicities,Great as th' ideas of philosophy,Wait still on your delight! May fate conspireTo make you rich and envied!

Queen.Pray, my lord,Explain the riddle. By the cadence ofYour language, I could guess you have intentsFar gentler than your actions.

Dec.If your care,Great madam, would convey into your heartThe story of my love: my love, a flame——

Queen.Leave off this history of love and flame,And honestly confess your fears, my lord,Lest Castile should correct you.

Dec.Correct me!No, madam, I have forc'd them t' a retreat,And given my fine young general cause to wishHe had not left his amorous attemptsOn ladies to assault our city.

Queen.But he is not wounded?

Dec.Not to death, perhaps;But certainly w' have open'd him a vein,Will cure the fever of his blood.

Queen.O, stay!

Dec.Torment! And doth she weep? I might have fall'nDown from some murdering precipice to dust,And miss'd the mercy of one tear, though itWould have redeem'd me back to life again.Accurs'd be that felicity that mustDepend on woman's passion.[Aside.

Queen.[Solil.] Florentio!If in my quarrel thou too suddenlyArt lost i' th' shades of death, O, let me findThe holy vault where thy pale earth must lie,There will I grow and wither.

Dec.This is strange!My heart swells much too big to be kept in.[Aside.

Queen.[Solil.] But if that providence, which rules the world,Hath, to preserve the stock of virtue, keptThee yet alive——

Dec.And what, if yet alive?Pray, recollect your reason, and considerMy long and faithful service to your crown;The fame of my progenitors, and thatDevotion the whole kingdom bears me. HowHath nature punish'd me, that, bringing allThe strength of argument to force your judgment,I cannot move your love?

Queen.My lord, you pleadWith so much arrogance, and tell a storySo gallant for yourself, as if I wereExposed a prize to the cunning'st orator.

Dec.No, madam, humbler far than the tann'd slaveTied to th' oar, I here throw down myself[Kneels.And all my victories. Dispose of meTo death; for what hath life merits esteem?What tie, alas! can I have to the world,Since you disdain my love?

Flo.Will you permitThe general kneel so long?

Queen.Fear not, Floriana;My lord knows how to rise, though I should striveTo hinder it.

Dec.Here, statue-like, I'll fixFor ever, till your pity (for your loveI must despair) enforce a life within me.

Alarum, and enterOssuna.

Oss.O my lord!To arms, to arms! The enemy, encouragedBy a strange leader, wheel'd about the town,And desperately surpris'd the careless guard.One gate's already theirs.Dec.Have I your licence?Queen.To augment your own command, and keep me stillAn humble captive.Dec.Madam, your disdainDistracts me more than all th' assaults of fortune!

Oss.O my lord!To arms, to arms! The enemy, encouragedBy a strange leader, wheel'd about the town,And desperately surpris'd the careless guard.One gate's already theirs.

Dec.Have I your licence?

Queen.To augment your own command, and keep me stillAn humble captive.

Dec.Madam, your disdainDistracts me more than all th' assaults of fortune!

[Exeunt all but theQueen,Floriana, andCleantha.

Queen.My fate, O, whither dost thou lead me? WhyIs my youth destin'd to the storms of war?What is my crime, you heavenly Powers, that itMust challenge blood for expiation?Cle.Madam!Queen.Fortune! O cruel! for, which side soe'erIs lost, I suffer; either in my peopleOr slaughter of my friends. No victoryCan now come welcome: the best chance of warMakes me howe'er a mourner.Cle.Madam, youHave lost your virtue, which so often vow'dA clear aspèct, what cloud soever darken'dYour present glory.Queen.I had [such] thoughts, Cleantha;But they are vanish'd. What shall we inventTo take off fear and trouble from this hour?Poor Floriana, thou art trembling nowWith thought of wounds and death, to which the courageOf thy fierce husband, like a headstrong jade,May run away with him. But clear thy sorrows:If he fall in this quarrel, thou shalt haveThy choice 'mong the Castilian lords; and (giveMy judgment faith) there be brave men among them.Flo.Madam, I have vowed my life to a cloister,Should I survive my lord.Queen.And thou art fearfulThou shalt be forc'd to make thy promise good!Alas, poor soul! enclosure and coarse diet,Much discipline and early prayer, will illAgree with thy complexion. There's Cleantha,She hath a heart so wean'd from vanity,To her a nunnery would be a palace.Cle.Yes, if your majesty were abbess, madam:But cloister up the fine young lords with us,And ring us up each midnight to a masque,Instead of matins, and I stand prepar'dTo be profess'd without probation.[Drum beats.Flo.Hark! what noise is that?Queen.'Tis that of death and mischief.My griefs! but I'll dissemble them [Aside.]—Yet why,Cleantha, being the sole beauteous idolOf all the superstitious youth at court,Remain'st thou yet unmarried?Cle.Madam, IHave many servants, but not one so valiant,As dares attempt to marry me.Queen.There's not a wit, but under some feign'd nameImplores thy beauty: sleep cannot close upThy eyes, but the sad world benighted is,Or else their sonnets are apocryphal:And when thou wak'st, the lark salutes the day,Breaking from the bright east of thy fair eyes.And if 'mong thy admirers there be somePoor drossy brain, who cannot rhyme thy praise,He wooes in sorry prose.

Queen.My fate, O, whither dost thou lead me? WhyIs my youth destin'd to the storms of war?What is my crime, you heavenly Powers, that itMust challenge blood for expiation?

Cle.Madam!

Queen.Fortune! O cruel! for, which side soe'erIs lost, I suffer; either in my peopleOr slaughter of my friends. No victoryCan now come welcome: the best chance of warMakes me howe'er a mourner.

Cle.Madam, youHave lost your virtue, which so often vow'dA clear aspèct, what cloud soever darken'dYour present glory.

Queen.I had [such] thoughts, Cleantha;But they are vanish'd. What shall we inventTo take off fear and trouble from this hour?Poor Floriana, thou art trembling nowWith thought of wounds and death, to which the courageOf thy fierce husband, like a headstrong jade,May run away with him. But clear thy sorrows:If he fall in this quarrel, thou shalt haveThy choice 'mong the Castilian lords; and (giveMy judgment faith) there be brave men among them.

Flo.Madam, I have vowed my life to a cloister,Should I survive my lord.

Queen.And thou art fearfulThou shalt be forc'd to make thy promise good!Alas, poor soul! enclosure and coarse diet,Much discipline and early prayer, will illAgree with thy complexion. There's Cleantha,She hath a heart so wean'd from vanity,To her a nunnery would be a palace.

Cle.Yes, if your majesty were abbess, madam:But cloister up the fine young lords with us,And ring us up each midnight to a masque,Instead of matins, and I stand prepar'dTo be profess'd without probation.[Drum beats.

Flo.Hark! what noise is that?

Queen.'Tis that of death and mischief.My griefs! but I'll dissemble them [Aside.]—Yet why,Cleantha, being the sole beauteous idolOf all the superstitious youth at court,Remain'st thou yet unmarried?

Cle.Madam, IHave many servants, but not one so valiant,As dares attempt to marry me.

Queen.There's not a wit, but under some feign'd nameImplores thy beauty: sleep cannot close upThy eyes, but the sad world benighted is,Or else their sonnets are apocryphal:And when thou wak'st, the lark salutes the day,Breaking from the bright east of thy fair eyes.And if 'mong thy admirers there be somePoor drossy brain, who cannot rhyme thy praise,He wooes in sorry prose.

EnterServant.

Ser.Half of the cityAlready is possess'd by th' enemy!Our soldiers fly from the assailants, whoWith moderation use their victory.So far from drawing blood, th' abstain from spoil.Queen.My comforts now grow charitable. ThisIs the first dawning of some happier fortune.[Aside.Flo.Where did you leave my lord?Ser.Retiring hither.Queen.And your good nature will in time, Cleantha,Believe all flattery for truth.Cle.In timeI shall not: but for the present, madam, giveLeave to my youth to think I may be prais'd,And merit it. Hereafter, when I shallOwe art my beauty, I shall grow perhapsSuspicious there's small faith in poetry.Queen.Can'st thou think of hereafter? Poor Cleantha!Hereafter is that time th' art bound to prayAgainst: hereafter is that enemyThat without mercy will destroy thy face;And what's a lady then?Cle.A wretched thing!A very wretched thing! So scorn'd and poor,'Twill scarce deserve man's pity; and I'm sureNo arms can e'er relieve it.Queen.Floriana,You yield too much to fear: misfortune bringsSorrow enough; 'tis envy[278]to ourselvesT' augment it by prediction.

Ser.Half of the cityAlready is possess'd by th' enemy!Our soldiers fly from the assailants, whoWith moderation use their victory.So far from drawing blood, th' abstain from spoil.

Queen.My comforts now grow charitable. ThisIs the first dawning of some happier fortune.[Aside.

Flo.Where did you leave my lord?

Ser.Retiring hither.

Queen.And your good nature will in time, Cleantha,Believe all flattery for truth.

Cle.In timeI shall not: but for the present, madam, giveLeave to my youth to think I may be prais'd,And merit it. Hereafter, when I shallOwe art my beauty, I shall grow perhapsSuspicious there's small faith in poetry.

Queen.Can'st thou think of hereafter? Poor Cleantha!Hereafter is that time th' art bound to prayAgainst: hereafter is that enemyThat without mercy will destroy thy face;And what's a lady then?

Cle.A wretched thing!A very wretched thing! So scorn'd and poor,'Twill scarce deserve man's pity; and I'm sureNo arms can e'er relieve it.

Queen.Floriana,You yield too much to fear: misfortune bringsSorrow enough; 'tis envy[278]to ourselvesT' augment it by prediction.

EnterSanmartino.

Cle.See, your lord!San.Fly, madam, fly! The army of Castile,Conducted by an unknown leader, mastersThe town. Decastro, yielding up his fateTo the prevailing enemy, is fled.Cle.And shall the queen fly from her friends, my lord?San.You have reason, madam. I begin to findWhich way the gale of favour now will blow.I will address to the most fortunate.[ExitSanmartino.Queen.Some music, there! my thoughts grow full of trouble.I'll re-collect them.Cle.May it please you, madam,To hear a song presented me this morning?Queen.Play anything.

Cle.See, your lord!

San.Fly, madam, fly! The army of Castile,Conducted by an unknown leader, mastersThe town. Decastro, yielding up his fateTo the prevailing enemy, is fled.

Cle.And shall the queen fly from her friends, my lord?

San.You have reason, madam. I begin to findWhich way the gale of favour now will blow.I will address to the most fortunate.[ExitSanmartino.

Queen.Some music, there! my thoughts grow full of trouble.I'll re-collect them.

Cle.May it please you, madam,To hear a song presented me this morning?

Queen.Play anything.

SONG.[279]

Not the Phœnix in his death,Nor those banks, where violets grow,And Arabian winds still blow,Yield a perfume like her breath.But O! marriage makes the spell:And 'tis poison, if I smell.The twin-beauties of the skies(When the half-sunk sailors hasteTo rend sail, and cut their mast),Shine not welcome as her eyes.But those beams, than storms more black,If they point at me, I wrack.Then, for fear of such a fire,Which kills worse than the long nightWhich benumbs the Muscovite,I must from my life retire.But, O no! For, if her eyeWarm me not, I freeze and die.

Not the Phœnix in his death,Nor those banks, where violets grow,And Arabian winds still blow,Yield a perfume like her breath.But O! marriage makes the spell:And 'tis poison, if I smell.

The twin-beauties of the skies(When the half-sunk sailors hasteTo rend sail, and cut their mast),Shine not welcome as her eyes.But those beams, than storms more black,If they point at me, I wrack.

Then, for fear of such a fire,Which kills worse than the long nightWhich benumbs the Muscovite,I must from my life retire.But, O no! For, if her eyeWarm me not, I freeze and die.

During the song [theQueenfalls into a slumber, and] enterAscanio,Lerma,Sanmartino, &c.

Asc.Cease the uncivil murmur of the drum!Nothing sound now, but gentle; such as may notDisturb her quiet ear. Are you sure, Lerma,Th' obedient soldier hath put up his sword?Ler.The citizen and soldier gratulateEach other, as divided friends new meeting:Nor is there execution done, but in pursuitOf th' enemy without the walls.Asc.'Tis very well. My lord, is that your queen?San.It is the queen, sir.Asc.Temper'd like the orbsWhich, while we mortals weary life in battle,Move with perpetual harmony. No fearEclipseth the bright lustre of her cheek,While we, who (infants) were swath'd up in steel,And in our cradle lull'd asleep by th' cannon,Grow pale at danger.San.I'll acquaint her, sir,That you attend here.Asc.Not for a diamondBig as our Apennine. She's heavenly fair;And, had not nature plac'd her in a throne,Her beauty yet bears so much majesty,It would have forc'd the world to throw itselfA captive at her feet. [TheQueenwakes.] But see, she moves!I feel a flame within me, which doth burnToo near my heart; and 'tis the first that everDid scorch me there.San.Madam, here's that brave soldierWhich reinforc'd the army of Castile:His name as yet unknown.Asc.And must be so.Nor did I merit name before this hourIn which I serve your majesty. EnjoyThe fortune of my sword, your liberty;And, since your rebel subjects have deniedObedience, here receive it from us strangers.Queen.I know not, sir, to whom I owe the debt,But find how much I stand oblig'd.Asc.You owe itTo your own virtue, madam, and that careHeaven had to keep part of itself on earthUnruin'd. When I saw the soldier fly,Sent hither from Castile to force your rescue,Their general hurt almost to death, I urg'dThem with the memory of their former deeds,Deeds famed in war; and so far had my voice(Speaking your name) power to confirm their spirits,That they return'd with a brave fury, andYield you up now your humbled[280]Arragon.Queen.My ignorance doth still perplex me more:And to owe thanks, yet not to know to whom,Nor how to express a gratitude, will cloudThe glory of your victory, and makeMe miserable however.Asc.I must penanceMy blood with absence, for it boils too high.[Aside.When we have order'd your affairs, my nameShall take an honour from your knowledge, madam.Queen.You have corrected me. Sir, we'll expectThe hour yourself shall name, when we may serve.Asc.I'm conquer'd in my victory! But I'll tryA new assault, and overcome or die.[Exeunt.

Asc.Cease the uncivil murmur of the drum!Nothing sound now, but gentle; such as may notDisturb her quiet ear. Are you sure, Lerma,Th' obedient soldier hath put up his sword?

Ler.The citizen and soldier gratulateEach other, as divided friends new meeting:Nor is there execution done, but in pursuitOf th' enemy without the walls.

Asc.'Tis very well. My lord, is that your queen?

San.It is the queen, sir.

Asc.Temper'd like the orbsWhich, while we mortals weary life in battle,Move with perpetual harmony. No fearEclipseth the bright lustre of her cheek,While we, who (infants) were swath'd up in steel,And in our cradle lull'd asleep by th' cannon,Grow pale at danger.

San.I'll acquaint her, sir,That you attend here.

Asc.Not for a diamondBig as our Apennine. She's heavenly fair;And, had not nature plac'd her in a throne,Her beauty yet bears so much majesty,It would have forc'd the world to throw itselfA captive at her feet. [TheQueenwakes.] But see, she moves!I feel a flame within me, which doth burnToo near my heart; and 'tis the first that everDid scorch me there.

San.Madam, here's that brave soldierWhich reinforc'd the army of Castile:His name as yet unknown.

Asc.And must be so.Nor did I merit name before this hourIn which I serve your majesty. EnjoyThe fortune of my sword, your liberty;And, since your rebel subjects have deniedObedience, here receive it from us strangers.

Queen.I know not, sir, to whom I owe the debt,But find how much I stand oblig'd.

Asc.You owe itTo your own virtue, madam, and that careHeaven had to keep part of itself on earthUnruin'd. When I saw the soldier fly,Sent hither from Castile to force your rescue,Their general hurt almost to death, I urg'dThem with the memory of their former deeds,Deeds famed in war; and so far had my voice(Speaking your name) power to confirm their spirits,That they return'd with a brave fury, andYield you up now your humbled[280]Arragon.

Queen.My ignorance doth still perplex me more:And to owe thanks, yet not to know to whom,Nor how to express a gratitude, will cloudThe glory of your victory, and makeMe miserable however.

Asc.I must penanceMy blood with absence, for it boils too high.[Aside.When we have order'd your affairs, my nameShall take an honour from your knowledge, madam.

Queen.You have corrected me. Sir, we'll expectThe hour yourself shall name, when we may serve.

Asc.I'm conquer'd in my victory! But I'll tryA new assault, and overcome or die.[Exeunt.

FOOTNOTES:[275]A sort of parody on the exclamation of Pistol in "Henry V.," act ii. sc. 1—"Base is the slave that pays!"Mr Steevens, in a note on the passage, points out a similar expression in Heywood's "Fair Maid of the West."—Collier.[276]i.e., Thine interpreter.Trucheman, Fr. See Cotgrave.—Steevens.The word is not very common in our old writers, but it is found [in two or three plays printed in the present series, and] in a passage quoted in "England's Parnassus," 1600, [from Greene's "Menaphone," 1589]—"Seld speaketh love, but sighes his secret paines;Teares are histruch-men; words do make him tremble."Again, in Whetstone's "Heptameron," 1582: "For he that is theTrouchemanof a stranger's tongue may well declare his meaning, but yet shall marre the grace of his tale."—Collier.[In "England's Parnasaus," 1600, is the following line from James I.'s "Essayes of a Prentise," 1584—"Dame Nature's trunchmen, heavens interprets true;"and Park, in his reprint of the book, not knowing the meaning oftrouchman, supposedtrunchmanto be misprinted fortrenchman.][277]This question, by an error of the press, Dodsley and Reed both allowed to be given to Florentio.—Collier.[278][Spite, hatred.][279]In the old folio, 1640, this song, and another song in act iv., are, as was not unusual at the time, appended at the conclusion of the play. They are here inserted in their right places.—Collier.[280][Old copy,your own humbled.]

[275]A sort of parody on the exclamation of Pistol in "Henry V.," act ii. sc. 1—"Base is the slave that pays!"Mr Steevens, in a note on the passage, points out a similar expression in Heywood's "Fair Maid of the West."—Collier.

[275]A sort of parody on the exclamation of Pistol in "Henry V.," act ii. sc. 1—

"Base is the slave that pays!"

Mr Steevens, in a note on the passage, points out a similar expression in Heywood's "Fair Maid of the West."—Collier.

[276]i.e., Thine interpreter.Trucheman, Fr. See Cotgrave.—Steevens.The word is not very common in our old writers, but it is found [in two or three plays printed in the present series, and] in a passage quoted in "England's Parnassus," 1600, [from Greene's "Menaphone," 1589]—"Seld speaketh love, but sighes his secret paines;Teares are histruch-men; words do make him tremble."Again, in Whetstone's "Heptameron," 1582: "For he that is theTrouchemanof a stranger's tongue may well declare his meaning, but yet shall marre the grace of his tale."—Collier.[In "England's Parnasaus," 1600, is the following line from James I.'s "Essayes of a Prentise," 1584—"Dame Nature's trunchmen, heavens interprets true;"and Park, in his reprint of the book, not knowing the meaning oftrouchman, supposedtrunchmanto be misprinted fortrenchman.]

[276]i.e., Thine interpreter.Trucheman, Fr. See Cotgrave.—Steevens.

The word is not very common in our old writers, but it is found [in two or three plays printed in the present series, and] in a passage quoted in "England's Parnassus," 1600, [from Greene's "Menaphone," 1589]—

"Seld speaketh love, but sighes his secret paines;Teares are histruch-men; words do make him tremble."

Again, in Whetstone's "Heptameron," 1582: "For he that is theTrouchemanof a stranger's tongue may well declare his meaning, but yet shall marre the grace of his tale."—Collier.

[In "England's Parnasaus," 1600, is the following line from James I.'s "Essayes of a Prentise," 1584—

"Dame Nature's trunchmen, heavens interprets true;"

and Park, in his reprint of the book, not knowing the meaning oftrouchman, supposedtrunchmanto be misprinted fortrenchman.]

[277]This question, by an error of the press, Dodsley and Reed both allowed to be given to Florentio.—Collier.

[278][Spite, hatred.]

[279]In the old folio, 1640, this song, and another song in act iv., are, as was not unusual at the time, appended at the conclusion of the play. They are here inserted in their right places.—Collier.

[280][Old copy,your own humbled.]

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