EnterAntonioand aSlave, one in the other's habit
Slave.But faith, sir, what's your device in this?This change insinuates some project.Ant.Shall I tell thee?Thou art my slave; I took thee (then a Turk)In the fight thou know'st we made before Palermo:Thou art not in stricter bondage unto meThan I am unto Cupid.Slave.O, then you are going, sir,To your old rendezvous; there are brave rogues there:But the duke observes you narrowly, and sets spiesTo watch if you step that way.Ant.Why therefore, man,Thus many times I have chang'd habits with thee,To cheat suspicion: and prejudicate Nature(Mistress of inclinations), sure, intendedTo knit thee up so like me for this purpose;For th' hast been taken in my habit for me.Slave.Yes, and have had many a French cringe,As I have walk'd i' th' park; and, for fear of discovery,I have crown'd it only with a nod.
Slave.But faith, sir, what's your device in this?This change insinuates some project.
Ant.Shall I tell thee?Thou art my slave; I took thee (then a Turk)In the fight thou know'st we made before Palermo:Thou art not in stricter bondage unto meThan I am unto Cupid.
Slave.O, then you are going, sir,To your old rendezvous; there are brave rogues there:But the duke observes you narrowly, and sets spiesTo watch if you step that way.
Ant.Why therefore, man,Thus many times I have chang'd habits with thee,To cheat suspicion: and prejudicate Nature(Mistress of inclinations), sure, intendedTo knit thee up so like me for this purpose;For th' hast been taken in my habit for me.
Slave.Yes, and have had many a French cringe,As I have walk'd i' th' park; and, for fear of discovery,I have crown'd it only with a nod.
Enter aLord.
Ant.Th' art a mad villain.But, sirrah, I am wondrously takenWith a sweet face I saw yonder; thou know'st where.Slave.At Venus College, the court bawdy-house.Ant.But this maid, howsoever she came there,Is acquainted so with Heaven, that when I thoughtTo have quench'd my frantic blood, and to have pluck'dThe fruit a king would leap at: even thenShe beat me with such brave thunder off, as ifHeaven had lent her the artillery of angels.Slave.She was coy then?Ant.Coy, man! she was honest—left coyness to court ladies:She spake the language of the saints, methought.Holy spectators sat on silver clouds,And clapp'd their white wings at her well-plac'd words.She piecemeal pull'd the frame of my intentions,And so join'd it again, that all the tempestOf blood can never move it.Slave.Some rare phœnix! what's her name?Ant.'Tis Millicenta, and wondrous aptly,For she is mistress of a hundred thousand holy heavenly thoughts.Chastely I love her now, and she must know it:Such wondrous wealth is virtue, it makes the womanWears it about her worthy of a king,Since kings can be but virtuous: farewell.A crown is but the care of deceiv'd life;He's king of men is crown'd with such a wife.
Ant.Th' art a mad villain.But, sirrah, I am wondrously takenWith a sweet face I saw yonder; thou know'st where.
Slave.At Venus College, the court bawdy-house.
Ant.But this maid, howsoever she came there,Is acquainted so with Heaven, that when I thoughtTo have quench'd my frantic blood, and to have pluck'dThe fruit a king would leap at: even thenShe beat me with such brave thunder off, as ifHeaven had lent her the artillery of angels.
Slave.She was coy then?
Ant.Coy, man! she was honest—left coyness to court ladies:She spake the language of the saints, methought.Holy spectators sat on silver clouds,And clapp'd their white wings at her well-plac'd words.She piecemeal pull'd the frame of my intentions,And so join'd it again, that all the tempestOf blood can never move it.
Slave.Some rare phœnix! what's her name?
Ant.'Tis Millicenta, and wondrous aptly,For she is mistress of a hundred thousand holy heavenly thoughts.Chastely I love her now, and she must know it:Such wondrous wealth is virtue, it makes the womanWears it about her worthy of a king,Since kings can be but virtuous: farewell.A crown is but the care of deceiv'd life;He's king of men is crown'd with such a wife.
[ExitAntonio, and theLordafter him.
Slave.Are your thoughts levell'd at that white, then?[164]This shall to th' duke your dad, sir. He can never talk with me,[165]But he twits me still with,I took thee at that fightWe made before Palermo! I did commandMen as he did there, Turks and valiant men:And though to wind myself up for his ruin,That I may fall and crush him, I appearTo renounce Mahomet, and seem a Christian,'Tis but conveniently to stab this Christian,Or any way confound him, and 'scape cleanly.Ere[166]one expects the deed: to hasten it,This letter came even now, which likewise certifiesHe waits me three leagues off, with a horse for flightOf a Turkish captain, commander of a galley.He keeps me as his slave, because indeedI play'd the devil at sea with him; but havingThus wrought myself into him, I intendTo give him but this day to take his leaveOf the whole world. He will come back by twilight:I'll wait him with a pistol. O sweet revenge!Laugh, our great prophet, he shall understand,When we think death farthest off, he's nearest hand.
Slave.Are your thoughts levell'd at that white, then?[164]This shall to th' duke your dad, sir. He can never talk with me,[165]But he twits me still with,I took thee at that fightWe made before Palermo! I did commandMen as he did there, Turks and valiant men:And though to wind myself up for his ruin,That I may fall and crush him, I appearTo renounce Mahomet, and seem a Christian,'Tis but conveniently to stab this Christian,Or any way confound him, and 'scape cleanly.Ere[166]one expects the deed: to hasten it,This letter came even now, which likewise certifiesHe waits me three leagues off, with a horse for flightOf a Turkish captain, commander of a galley.He keeps me as his slave, because indeedI play'd the devil at sea with him; but havingThus wrought myself into him, I intendTo give him but this day to take his leaveOf the whole world. He will come back by twilight:I'll wait him with a pistol. O sweet revenge!Laugh, our great prophet, he shall understand,When we think death farthest off, he's nearest hand.
EnterPhilippo.
Phil.You and I must meet no more, sir: there's your kick again.
Phil.You and I must meet no more, sir: there's your kick again.
[Kicks him.
Slave.Hold, hold! what mean you, sir?Phil.I have brought your kick back, sir——[Shoots him.Slave.Hold, man, I am not——[Falls.Phil.Thou hast spoken true, thou art not—— What art thou?But I am for Verona.[Exit.Slave.Mine own words catch me: 'tis I now understand,When we think death farthest off, he's nearest hand.[Dies.
Slave.Hold, hold! what mean you, sir?
Phil.I have brought your kick back, sir——[Shoots him.
Slave.Hold, man, I am not——[Falls.
Phil.Thou hast spoken true, thou art not—— What art thou?But I am for Verona.[Exit.
Slave.Mine own words catch me: 'tis I now understand,When we think death farthest off, he's nearest hand.[Dies.
EnterLorenzo.
Lor.She lives not, sure, in Milan! report but woreHer usual habit when she told in VeronaShe met Abstemia here. O Abstemia,How lovely thou look'st now! now thou appearestChaster than is the morning's modesty,That rises with a blush, over whose bosomThe western wind creeps softly. Now I rememberHow, when she sat at table, her obedient eyeWould dwell on mine, as if it were not well,Unless it look'd where I look'd. O, how proudShe was, when she could cross herself to please me!But where now is this fair soul? like a silver cloud,She hath wept herself, I fear, into th' dead sea,And will be found no more: this makes me mad,To rave and call on death; but the slave shrinks,[167]And is as far to find as she. Abstemia,If thou not answer or appear to knowledge,That here with shame I sought thee in this wood,I'll leave the blushing witness of my blood.[Exit.
Lor.She lives not, sure, in Milan! report but woreHer usual habit when she told in VeronaShe met Abstemia here. O Abstemia,How lovely thou look'st now! now thou appearestChaster than is the morning's modesty,That rises with a blush, over whose bosomThe western wind creeps softly. Now I rememberHow, when she sat at table, her obedient eyeWould dwell on mine, as if it were not well,Unless it look'd where I look'd. O, how proudShe was, when she could cross herself to please me!But where now is this fair soul? like a silver cloud,She hath wept herself, I fear, into th' dead sea,And will be found no more: this makes me mad,To rave and call on death; but the slave shrinks,[167]And is as far to find as she. Abstemia,If thou not answer or appear to knowledge,That here with shame I sought thee in this wood,I'll leave the blushing witness of my blood.[Exit.
Enter theDuke of Milan,Sebastiano,Sanchio, and theLord.
Mil.Followed you him thus far?Lord.Just to this place, sir:The slave he loves left him; here they parted.Mil.Certain, he has some private haunt this way.Seb.Ha! private indeed, sir: O, behold and seeWhere he lies full of wounds!Lord.My lord.Mil.My son Antonio! who hath done this deed?San.My Lord Antonio!Mil.He's gone, he's gone! warm yet? bleeds fresh? and whilstWe here hold passion play, we but advantageThe flying murderer. Bear his body gentlyUnto the lodge. O, what hand hath so hidThat sunlike face behind a crimson cloud!Use all means possible for life: but I fearCharity will arrive too late. To horse!Disperse through the wood: run, ride, make way,The sun in Milan is eclips'd this day!Omnes.To horse, and raise more pursuit![Exeunt.
Mil.Followed you him thus far?
Lord.Just to this place, sir:The slave he loves left him; here they parted.
Mil.Certain, he has some private haunt this way.
Seb.Ha! private indeed, sir: O, behold and seeWhere he lies full of wounds!
Lord.My lord.
Mil.My son Antonio! who hath done this deed?
San.My Lord Antonio!
Mil.He's gone, he's gone! warm yet? bleeds fresh? and whilstWe here hold passion play, we but advantageThe flying murderer. Bear his body gentlyUnto the lodge. O, what hand hath so hidThat sunlike face behind a crimson cloud!Use all means possible for life: but I fearCharity will arrive too late. To horse!Disperse through the wood: run, ride, make way,The sun in Milan is eclips'd this day!
Omnes.To horse, and raise more pursuit![Exeunt.
EnterLorenzowith his sword drawn.
Lor.Abstemia! O, take her name, you winds, upon your wings,And through the wanton region of the airSoftly convey it to her. There's no sweet sufferance,Which bravely she pass'd through, but is a thornNow to my sides: my will the centre stoodTo all her chaste endeavours: all her actions,With a perfection perpendicular,Pointed upon it. She is lost! O she,The well-built fort of virtue's victory!For still she conquer'd: since she is lost, then,My friendly sword, find thou my heart.With.Follow, follow!
Lor.Abstemia! O, take her name, you winds, upon your wings,And through the wanton region of the airSoftly convey it to her. There's no sweet sufferance,Which bravely she pass'd through, but is a thornNow to my sides: my will the centre stoodTo all her chaste endeavours: all her actions,With a perfection perpendicular,Pointed upon it. She is lost! O she,The well-built fort of virtue's victory!For still she conquer'd: since she is lost, then,My friendly sword, find thou my heart.
With.Follow, follow!
EnterDuke of Milan,Sanchio, andSebastiano.
Mil.This way. What's he? lay hands on him.Seb.The murd'rer, on my life, my lord, here in the woodWas close beset; he would have slain himself.Mil.Speak, villain, art thou the bloody murderer?Lor.Of whom?San.His dissembled ignorance speaks him the man.Seb.Of the duke's son, the Prince Antonio, sir:'Twas your hand that kill'd him.Lor.Your lordship lies; it was my sword.Mil.Out, slave!Ravens shall feed upon thee: speak, what causeHadst thou with one unhappy wound to cloudThat star of Milan?Lor.Because he was an erring star,Not fix'd nor regular. I will resolve nothing:I did it, do not repent it; and were itTo do again, I'd do't.Omnes.Bloodthirsty villain!Mil.Lead[168]him to swift destruction, tortures, and death.O my Antonio! how did thy youth stray,To meet wild winter in the midst of May?Lor.O my Abstemia! who cast thy fate so bad,To clip[169]affliction, like a husband clad?[Exeunt.
Mil.This way. What's he? lay hands on him.
Seb.The murd'rer, on my life, my lord, here in the woodWas close beset; he would have slain himself.
Mil.Speak, villain, art thou the bloody murderer?
Lor.Of whom?
San.His dissembled ignorance speaks him the man.
Seb.Of the duke's son, the Prince Antonio, sir:'Twas your hand that kill'd him.
Lor.Your lordship lies; it was my sword.
Mil.Out, slave!Ravens shall feed upon thee: speak, what causeHadst thou with one unhappy wound to cloudThat star of Milan?
Lor.Because he was an erring star,Not fix'd nor regular. I will resolve nothing:I did it, do not repent it; and were itTo do again, I'd do't.
Omnes.Bloodthirsty villain!
Mil.Lead[168]him to swift destruction, tortures, and death.O my Antonio! how did thy youth stray,To meet wild winter in the midst of May?
Lor.O my Abstemia! who cast thy fate so bad,To clip[169]affliction, like a husband clad?[Exeunt.
EnterAntonioandAbstemia.
Abs.Good sir, the prince makes known his wisdom,To make you speaker in his cause.Ant.Me? know, mistress,I have felt love's passions equal with himself,And can discourse of love's cause: had you seen himWhen he sent me to ye, how truly he did look;And when your name slipp'd through his trembling lips,A lover's lovely paleness straight possess'd him.Abs.Fie, fie!Ant.Go, says he, to that something more than woman—And he look'd as if by something he meant saint;Tell her I saw heaven's army in her eyes,And that from her chaste heart such excellent goodnessCame, like full rivers flowing, that there wants nothingBut her soft yielding will to make her wifeUnto the Prince Antonio. O, will you flyA fortune, which great ladies would pursueUpon their knees with prayers?Abs.No, Lorenzo,Had law to this new love made no denial:A chaste wife's truth shines through the greatest trial.
Abs.Good sir, the prince makes known his wisdom,To make you speaker in his cause.
Ant.Me? know, mistress,I have felt love's passions equal with himself,And can discourse of love's cause: had you seen himWhen he sent me to ye, how truly he did look;And when your name slipp'd through his trembling lips,A lover's lovely paleness straight possess'd him.
Abs.Fie, fie!
Ant.Go, says he, to that something more than woman—And he look'd as if by something he meant saint;Tell her I saw heaven's army in her eyes,And that from her chaste heart such excellent goodnessCame, like full rivers flowing, that there wants nothingBut her soft yielding will to make her wifeUnto the Prince Antonio. O, will you flyA fortune, which great ladies would pursueUpon their knees with prayers?
Abs.No, Lorenzo,Had law to this new love made no denial:A chaste wife's truth shines through the greatest trial.
EnterMorbo.
Mor.How now, what make you i' th' wood here?Where's my old lady?
Mor.How now, what make you i' th' wood here?Where's my old lady?
Abs.I know not.Mor.All the country's in an uproar yonder: the Prince Antonio's slain.Ambo.How!Mor.Nay, no man can tell how; but the murd'rer with's sword in's hand is taken.Ant.Is he of Milan?Mor.No, of Verona: I heard his name, and I have forgot it.Ant.I am all wonder; 'tis the slave, sure!Mor.Lor—Lor—Lorenzo.Abs.Ha, Lorenzo! What, I pray?Mor.Lorenzo Me—Medico has run him in the eye, some thirty-three inches, two barleycorns: they could scarce know him for the blood, but by his apparel. I must find out my lady; he used our house; intelligence has been given of his pilgrimage thither. I am afraid I shall be singed to death with torches, and my lady stewed between two dishes.Ant.Why hath this thus amazed you, mistress?
Abs.I know not.
Mor.All the country's in an uproar yonder: the Prince Antonio's slain.
Ambo.How!
Mor.Nay, no man can tell how; but the murd'rer with's sword in's hand is taken.
Ant.Is he of Milan?
Mor.No, of Verona: I heard his name, and I have forgot it.
Ant.I am all wonder; 'tis the slave, sure!
Mor.Lor—Lor—Lorenzo.
Abs.Ha, Lorenzo! What, I pray?
Mor.Lorenzo Me—Medico has run him in the eye, some thirty-three inches, two barleycorns: they could scarce know him for the blood, but by his apparel. I must find out my lady; he used our house; intelligence has been given of his pilgrimage thither. I am afraid I shall be singed to death with torches, and my lady stewed between two dishes.
Ant.Why hath this thus amazed you, mistress?
Abs.O, leave me, leave me: I am all distraction;Struck to the soul with sorrow.
Abs.O, leave me, leave me: I am all distraction;Struck to the soul with sorrow.
EnterMilan,Lords, andLorenzoguarded.
Ant.See where they come!My father full of tears, too. I'll stand by:Strange changes must have strange discovery.Abs.'Tis he: heart, how thou leap'st! O ye deluded,And full of false rash judgment! why do ye leadInnocence like a sacrifice to slaughter?Get garlands rather: let palm and laurel round[170]Those temples, where such wedlock-truth is found.Lor.Ha!Omnes.Wedlock!Abs.O Lorenzo! thou hast suffer'd bravely,And wondrous far: look on me, here I come,Hurried by conscience to confess the deed.Thy innocent blood will be too great a burthenUpon the judge's soul.Lor.Abstemia!Abs.Look, look,How he will blind ye! by and by, he'll tell yeWe saw not one another many a day;In love's cause we dare make our lives away.He would redeem mine: 'tis my husband, sir;Dearly we love together; but I, being oftenBy the dead prince, your son, solicitedTo wrong my husband's bed, and still resisting,Where you found him dead he met me, and the placePresenting opportunity, he would thereHave forc'd me to his will; but prizing honestyFar above proffer'd honour, with my knife,In my resistance, most unfortunatelyI struck him in the eye. He fell, was found,The pursuit rais'd, and ere I could get homeMy husband met me; I confess'd all to him.He, excellent in love as the sea-inhabitant,Of whom 'tis writ that, when the flatt'ring hookHas struck his female, he will help her off,Although he desperately put on himself,But if he fail, and see her leave his eye,He swims to land, will languish, and there die—Such is his love to me; for, pursu'd closely,He bid me save myself, and he would stayWith his drawn sword there about the place, on purposeTo requite my loyalty, though with his death.Fear forc'd my acceptance then; but conscienceHath brought me back to preserve innocence.Seb.The circumstances produce probability.Lor.By truth herself she slanders truth: she and IHave not met these many months. O my Abstemia!Thou wouldst be now too excellent.Ant.These are strange turns.Mil.Let not love strangle justice. Speak: on thy soul,Was it her hand that slew the prince?Lor.Not, on my life;'Tis I have deserv'd death.Abs.Love makes him desperate,Conscience is my accuser. O Lorenzo!
Ant.See where they come!My father full of tears, too. I'll stand by:Strange changes must have strange discovery.
Abs.'Tis he: heart, how thou leap'st! O ye deluded,And full of false rash judgment! why do ye leadInnocence like a sacrifice to slaughter?Get garlands rather: let palm and laurel round[170]Those temples, where such wedlock-truth is found.
Lor.Ha!
Omnes.Wedlock!
Abs.O Lorenzo! thou hast suffer'd bravely,And wondrous far: look on me, here I come,Hurried by conscience to confess the deed.Thy innocent blood will be too great a burthenUpon the judge's soul.
Lor.Abstemia!
Abs.Look, look,How he will blind ye! by and by, he'll tell yeWe saw not one another many a day;In love's cause we dare make our lives away.He would redeem mine: 'tis my husband, sir;Dearly we love together; but I, being oftenBy the dead prince, your son, solicitedTo wrong my husband's bed, and still resisting,Where you found him dead he met me, and the placePresenting opportunity, he would thereHave forc'd me to his will; but prizing honestyFar above proffer'd honour, with my knife,In my resistance, most unfortunatelyI struck him in the eye. He fell, was found,The pursuit rais'd, and ere I could get homeMy husband met me; I confess'd all to him.He, excellent in love as the sea-inhabitant,Of whom 'tis writ that, when the flatt'ring hookHas struck his female, he will help her off,Although he desperately put on himself,But if he fail, and see her leave his eye,He swims to land, will languish, and there die—Such is his love to me; for, pursu'd closely,He bid me save myself, and he would stayWith his drawn sword there about the place, on purposeTo requite my loyalty, though with his death.Fear forc'd my acceptance then; but conscienceHath brought me back to preserve innocence.
Seb.The circumstances produce probability.
Lor.By truth herself she slanders truth: she and IHave not met these many months. O my Abstemia!Thou wouldst be now too excellent.
Ant.These are strange turns.
Mil.Let not love strangle justice. Speak: on thy soul,Was it her hand that slew the prince?
Lor.Not, on my life;'Tis I have deserv'd death.
Abs.Love makes him desperate,Conscience is my accuser. O Lorenzo!
[TheDukeandLordswhisper.
Live thou, and feed on my remembrance:When thou shalt think how ardently I love thee,Drop but a pair of tears from those fair eyes,Thou offer'st truth a wealthy sacrifice.Lor.Did ye hear, sir?Mil.No, what said she?Lor.She ask'd me, why I would cast myself away thus,When she in love devis'd this trick to save me.San.There may be juggling, sir, in this: it may beThey have both hands i' th' deed, and one in loveWould suffer for't.
Live thou, and feed on my remembrance:When thou shalt think how ardently I love thee,Drop but a pair of tears from those fair eyes,Thou offer'st truth a wealthy sacrifice.
Lor.Did ye hear, sir?
Mil.No, what said she?
Lor.She ask'd me, why I would cast myself away thus,When she in love devis'd this trick to save me.
San.There may be juggling, sir, in this: it may beThey have both hands i' th' deed, and one in loveWould suffer for't.
Enter aLord.
Mil.What news?Lord.The Dukes of Venice and Verona,With some small train of gentlemen, are privatelyThis hour come to the court.Mil.Bear them to prison,Until we have given such entertainment sorrowWill give us leave to show: until that time,The satisfaction of my lost son's lifeMust hover 'twixt a husband and a wife.[Exeunt. ManetAntonio.Ant.How strangely chance to-day runs! the slave kill'dIn my apparel, and this fellow taken for't,Whom to my knowledge I never saw. She loves himPast all expression dearly. I have a trick,In that so infinitely dear she loves him,Has seal'd her mine already; and I'll putThis wondrous love of woman to such a nonplus,Time hath produc'd none stranger. I will setHonour and Love to fight for life and death.Beauty (as castles built of cards) with a breathIs levell'd and laid flat.
Mil.What news?
Lord.The Dukes of Venice and Verona,With some small train of gentlemen, are privatelyThis hour come to the court.
Mil.Bear them to prison,Until we have given such entertainment sorrowWill give us leave to show: until that time,The satisfaction of my lost son's lifeMust hover 'twixt a husband and a wife.[Exeunt. ManetAntonio.
Ant.How strangely chance to-day runs! the slave kill'dIn my apparel, and this fellow taken for't,Whom to my knowledge I never saw. She loves himPast all expression dearly. I have a trick,In that so infinitely dear she loves him,Has seal'd her mine already; and I'll putThis wondrous love of woman to such a nonplus,Time hath produc'd none stranger. I will setHonour and Love to fight for life and death.Beauty (as castles built of cards) with a breathIs levell'd and laid flat.
EnterPhilippo, putting on a disguise, lays down a pistol.
Phil.Misery of ignorance!It was the Prince Antonio I have slain.Ant.Ha! the clue of all this error is unravell'd,This is the valiant gentleman so threaten'd me:He met the slave, doubtless, in my habit,And seal'd upon him his mistaken spleen.If it be so, there hangs some strange intentIn those accuse themselves for't.Phil.It seems some other had laid the plot to kill him.This paper I found with him speaks as much,And, sent to the intended murderer,Happen'd (it seems) to his hands. It concurs;For they say, there is one taken for the fact,And will do me the courtesy to be hang'd for me.There's comfort yet in that. So, so: I am fitted;And will set forward.[Antoniotakes up the pistol.
Phil.Misery of ignorance!It was the Prince Antonio I have slain.
Ant.Ha! the clue of all this error is unravell'd,This is the valiant gentleman so threaten'd me:He met the slave, doubtless, in my habit,And seal'd upon him his mistaken spleen.If it be so, there hangs some strange intentIn those accuse themselves for't.
Phil.It seems some other had laid the plot to kill him.This paper I found with him speaks as much,And, sent to the intended murderer,Happen'd (it seems) to his hands. It concurs;For they say, there is one taken for the fact,And will do me the courtesy to be hang'd for me.There's comfort yet in that. So, so: I am fitted;And will set forward.[Antoniotakes up the pistol.
Ant.Goose, there's a fox in your way.Phil.Betrayed!Ant.Come, I have another business afoot: I have no time to discover 'em now, sir. See, I can enforce you; but by this hand, go but with me, and keep your own counsel. Garden-houses[171]are not truer bawds to cuckold-making, than I will be to thee and thy stratagem.Phil.Th' art a mad knave: art serious?Ant.As a usurer when he's telling interestmoney.Phil.Whate'er thou art, thy bluntness begets belief. Go on, I trust thee.Ant.But I have more wit than to trust you behind me, sir; pray, get you before. I have a friend shall keep you in custody till I have passed a project; and if you can keep your own counsel, I will not injure you. And this for your comfort—the prince lives.
Ant.Goose, there's a fox in your way.
Phil.Betrayed!
Ant.Come, I have another business afoot: I have no time to discover 'em now, sir. See, I can enforce you; but by this hand, go but with me, and keep your own counsel. Garden-houses[171]are not truer bawds to cuckold-making, than I will be to thee and thy stratagem.
Phil.Th' art a mad knave: art serious?
Ant.As a usurer when he's telling interestmoney.
Phil.Whate'er thou art, thy bluntness begets belief. Go on, I trust thee.
Ant.But I have more wit than to trust you behind me, sir; pray, get you before. I have a friend shall keep you in custody till I have passed a project; and if you can keep your own counsel, I will not injure you. And this for your comfort—the prince lives.
Phil.Living! Thou mak'st my blood dance.But prythee, let's be honest one to another.
Phil.Living! Thou mak'st my blood dance.But prythee, let's be honest one to another.
Ant.O sir, as the justices' clerk and the constable, when they share the crowns that drunkards pay to the poor. Pray, keep fair distance, and take no great strides.[Exeunt.
Ant.O sir, as the justices' clerk and the constable, when they share the crowns that drunkards pay to the poor. Pray, keep fair distance, and take no great strides.[Exeunt.
EnterLorenzoandAbstemia, as in prison.
Lor.Can then Abstemia forgive Lorenzo?Abs.Yes, if Lorenzo can but love Abstemia,She can hang thus upon his neck, and callThis prison true love's palace.Lor.O, let kingsForget their crowns that know what 'tis to enjoyThe wondrous wealth of one so good. NowThou art lovely as young[172]spring, and comelyAs is the well-spread cedar; the fair fruit,Kiss'd by the sun so daily, that it wearsThe lovely blush of maids, seems but to mockThy soul's integrity. Here let me fall,And with pleading sighs beg pardon.
Lor.Can then Abstemia forgive Lorenzo?
Abs.Yes, if Lorenzo can but love Abstemia,She can hang thus upon his neck, and callThis prison true love's palace.
Lor.O, let kingsForget their crowns that know what 'tis to enjoyThe wondrous wealth of one so good. NowThou art lovely as young[172]spring, and comelyAs is the well-spread cedar; the fair fruit,Kiss'd by the sun so daily, that it wearsThe lovely blush of maids, seems but to mockThy soul's integrity. Here let me fall,And with pleading sighs beg pardon.
EnterAntonio.
Abs.Sir, it meets you,Like a glad pilgrim, whose desiring eyeLongs for the long-wish'd altar of his vow.But you are far too prodigal in praise,And crown me with the garlands of your merit.As we meet barks on rivers, the strong gale(Being best friends to us), our own swift motionMakes us believe that t'other nimbler rows:Swift virtue thinks small goodness fastest goes.Lor.Sorrow hath bravely sweeten'd thee! What are you?Ant.A displeasant black cloud! though I appear dismal,I am wondrous fruitful. What cause soeverMov'd you to take this murder on yourself,Or you to strike yourself into the hazardFor his redemption, 'tis to me a stranger!But I conceive you are both innocent.Lor.As newborn virtue. I did accuseMy innocence, to rid me of a lifeLook'd uglier than death upon an injuryI had done this virtuous wife.Abs.And I accus'dMy innocence, to save the belov'd lifeOf my most noble husband.Ant.Why, then, now 'twould grieve youDeath should unkindly part ye.Lor.O, but that, sir,We have no sorrow. Now to part from her,Since Heaven hath new-married and new-made us,I had rather leap into a den of lions,Snatch from a hungry bear her bleeding prey:I would attempt desperate impossibilitiesWith hope, rather than now to leave her.Ant.This makes for me.[Aside.Abs.And rather than leave you, sir, I would eatHot coals with Portia, or attempt a terrorNature would, snail-like, shrink her head in at,And tremble but to think on.Ant.Better and better.[Aside.If you so love him, what can you conceiveThe greatest kindness can express that love?Abs.To save his life, since there is no hope,Seeing he so strongly has confess'd the murder,We shall meet the happiness to die together.Ant.Fire casts the bravest heat in coldest weather:I'll try how ardently you burn; for know,Upon my faith, and as I am a gentleman,I have in the next room, and in the custodyOf a true friend, the man that did the deedYou stand accus'd for.Abs.Hark there, Lorenzo!Lor.Will you not let him go, sir?Ant.That's in suspense. But, mistress, you did say,You durst eat coals with Portia, to redeemThe infinitely lov'd life of your husband.Abs.And still [do] strongly protest it.Lor.O my Abstemia!Ant.You shall redeem him at an easier rate:I have the murderer, you see, in hold.Lor.And we are bless'd in your discovery of him.Ant.If you will give consent that I shall tasteThat sense-bereaving pleasure so familiarUnto your happy husband——Abs.How?Ant.Pray, hear me:Then I will give this fellow up to the law.If you deny, horses stand ready for us,A bark for transportation; where we will live,Till law by death hath sever'd ye.Lor.But we will call for present witness.Ant.Look ye——[Shows the pistol.Experienc'd navigators still are fittedFor every weather. 'Tis almost past callTo reach the nimblest ear: yet but offer it,I part ye presently for ever. Consider it:The enjoying him thou so entirely lov'stAll thy life after; that when mirth-spent timeHath crown'd your heads with honour, you may sitAnd tell delightful stories of your loves;And when ye come to that poor minute's 'scapeCrowns my desire, ye may let that slip by,Like water that ne'er meets the miller's eye.Compare but this to th' soon-forgotten pleasureOf a pair of wealthy minutes. The thriftiest[173]lapidaryKnows the most curious jewel takes no harmFor one day's wearing. Could you, sir (did your eyeNor see it worn), your wife having lent your cloak(If secretly return'd and folded up)—Could you conceive, when you next look'd upon't,It had neatly furnish'd out a poor friend's want?Be charitable, and think on't.Lor.Dost hear, Abstemia?O, shall we part for ever, when a priceSo poor might be our freedom?Abs.Now, goodness guard ye!Where learn't you, sir, this language?Lor.Of true love.You did but now profess that you would dieTo save my life; and now, like a forward chapman,Catch'd at thy word, thou givest back, asham'dTo stand this easy proffer.Abs.Could you live,And know yourself a cuckold?Ant.What a question's that!Many men cannot live without the knowledge.How can ye tellWhether she seems thus to respect your honour,But to stay till the law has chok'd you?It may be then she will do't with less entreaty.Lor.Ay, there, there 'tis.Abs.'Tis your old fit of jealousy so judges.A foul devil talks within him.Lor.O, the art,The wondrous art of woman! ye would do it daintily;You would juggle me to death; you would persuade meI should die nobly to preserve your honour;That (dead) ignobly you might prove dishonourable,Forget me in a day, and wed another.Abs.Why then would I have died for you?Ant.That was but a proffer,That, dying, you might idolise her love:'Twould have put her off the better.Lor.O, you have buildedA golden palace, strew'd with palm and roses,To let me bleed to death in! How sweetlyYou would have lost me. Abstemia, you have learn'dThe cunning fowler's art, who pleasantlyWhistles the bird into the snare. Good Heaven!How you had strew'd the enticing top o' th' cupWith Arabian spices! But you had laid i' th' bottomEphesian aconite. You are love's hypocrite;A rotten stick, in the night's darkness born,And a fair poppy in a field of corn.Abs.O sir! hear me——[Kneels.Lor.Away! I will no moreLook pearl in mud. O sly hypocrisy! Durst yeBut now die for me? Good Heaven! die for me!The greatest act of pain, and dare not buy meWith a poor minute's pleasure?Abs.No, sir, I dare not: there is little pain in death;But a great death in very little pleasure.I had rather, trust me, bear your death with honour,Than buy your life with baseness. As I am expos'dTo th' greatest battery beauty ever fought,O, blame me not if I be covetousTo come off with greatest honour. If I do thisTo let you live, I kill your name, and giveMy soul a wound; I crush her from sweet grace,And change her angel's to a fury's face.Try me no more, then; but, if you must bleed, boast,To preserve honour, life is nobly lost.Lor.Thou wealth worth more than kingdoms! I am nowConfirm'd past all suspicion, thou art farSweeter in thy sincere truth, than a sacrificeDeck'd up for death with garlands. The Indian winds,[174]That blow off from the coast, and cheer the sailorWith the sweet savour of their spices, wantThe delight flows in thee. Look here, look here,O man of wild desires! We will die the martyrsOf marriage; and, 'stead of the loose dittiesWith which they stab sweet modesty, and engenderDesires in the hot-room, thy noble story[ToAbstemia.Shall, laurel-like, crown honest ears with glory.Ant.Murder, murder, murder!
Abs.Sir, it meets you,Like a glad pilgrim, whose desiring eyeLongs for the long-wish'd altar of his vow.But you are far too prodigal in praise,And crown me with the garlands of your merit.As we meet barks on rivers, the strong gale(Being best friends to us), our own swift motionMakes us believe that t'other nimbler rows:Swift virtue thinks small goodness fastest goes.
Lor.Sorrow hath bravely sweeten'd thee! What are you?
Ant.A displeasant black cloud! though I appear dismal,I am wondrous fruitful. What cause soeverMov'd you to take this murder on yourself,Or you to strike yourself into the hazardFor his redemption, 'tis to me a stranger!But I conceive you are both innocent.
Lor.As newborn virtue. I did accuseMy innocence, to rid me of a lifeLook'd uglier than death upon an injuryI had done this virtuous wife.
Abs.And I accus'dMy innocence, to save the belov'd lifeOf my most noble husband.
Ant.Why, then, now 'twould grieve youDeath should unkindly part ye.
Lor.O, but that, sir,We have no sorrow. Now to part from her,Since Heaven hath new-married and new-made us,I had rather leap into a den of lions,Snatch from a hungry bear her bleeding prey:I would attempt desperate impossibilitiesWith hope, rather than now to leave her.
Ant.This makes for me.[Aside.
Abs.And rather than leave you, sir, I would eatHot coals with Portia, or attempt a terrorNature would, snail-like, shrink her head in at,And tremble but to think on.
Ant.Better and better.[Aside.If you so love him, what can you conceiveThe greatest kindness can express that love?
Abs.To save his life, since there is no hope,Seeing he so strongly has confess'd the murder,We shall meet the happiness to die together.
Ant.Fire casts the bravest heat in coldest weather:I'll try how ardently you burn; for know,Upon my faith, and as I am a gentleman,I have in the next room, and in the custodyOf a true friend, the man that did the deedYou stand accus'd for.
Abs.Hark there, Lorenzo!
Lor.Will you not let him go, sir?
Ant.That's in suspense. But, mistress, you did say,You durst eat coals with Portia, to redeemThe infinitely lov'd life of your husband.
Abs.And still [do] strongly protest it.
Lor.O my Abstemia!
Ant.You shall redeem him at an easier rate:I have the murderer, you see, in hold.
Lor.And we are bless'd in your discovery of him.
Ant.If you will give consent that I shall tasteThat sense-bereaving pleasure so familiarUnto your happy husband——
Abs.How?
Ant.Pray, hear me:Then I will give this fellow up to the law.If you deny, horses stand ready for us,A bark for transportation; where we will live,Till law by death hath sever'd ye.
Lor.But we will call for present witness.
Ant.Look ye——[Shows the pistol.Experienc'd navigators still are fittedFor every weather. 'Tis almost past callTo reach the nimblest ear: yet but offer it,I part ye presently for ever. Consider it:The enjoying him thou so entirely lov'stAll thy life after; that when mirth-spent timeHath crown'd your heads with honour, you may sitAnd tell delightful stories of your loves;And when ye come to that poor minute's 'scapeCrowns my desire, ye may let that slip by,Like water that ne'er meets the miller's eye.Compare but this to th' soon-forgotten pleasureOf a pair of wealthy minutes. The thriftiest[173]lapidaryKnows the most curious jewel takes no harmFor one day's wearing. Could you, sir (did your eyeNor see it worn), your wife having lent your cloak(If secretly return'd and folded up)—Could you conceive, when you next look'd upon't,It had neatly furnish'd out a poor friend's want?Be charitable, and think on't.
Lor.Dost hear, Abstemia?O, shall we part for ever, when a priceSo poor might be our freedom?
Abs.Now, goodness guard ye!Where learn't you, sir, this language?
Lor.Of true love.You did but now profess that you would dieTo save my life; and now, like a forward chapman,Catch'd at thy word, thou givest back, asham'dTo stand this easy proffer.
Abs.Could you live,And know yourself a cuckold?
Ant.What a question's that!Many men cannot live without the knowledge.How can ye tellWhether she seems thus to respect your honour,But to stay till the law has chok'd you?It may be then she will do't with less entreaty.
Lor.Ay, there, there 'tis.
Abs.'Tis your old fit of jealousy so judges.A foul devil talks within him.
Lor.O, the art,The wondrous art of woman! ye would do it daintily;You would juggle me to death; you would persuade meI should die nobly to preserve your honour;That (dead) ignobly you might prove dishonourable,Forget me in a day, and wed another.
Abs.Why then would I have died for you?
Ant.That was but a proffer,That, dying, you might idolise her love:'Twould have put her off the better.
Lor.O, you have buildedA golden palace, strew'd with palm and roses,To let me bleed to death in! How sweetlyYou would have lost me. Abstemia, you have learn'dThe cunning fowler's art, who pleasantlyWhistles the bird into the snare. Good Heaven!How you had strew'd the enticing top o' th' cupWith Arabian spices! But you had laid i' th' bottomEphesian aconite. You are love's hypocrite;A rotten stick, in the night's darkness born,And a fair poppy in a field of corn.
Abs.O sir! hear me——[Kneels.
Lor.Away! I will no moreLook pearl in mud. O sly hypocrisy! Durst yeBut now die for me? Good Heaven! die for me!The greatest act of pain, and dare not buy meWith a poor minute's pleasure?
Abs.No, sir, I dare not: there is little pain in death;But a great death in very little pleasure.I had rather, trust me, bear your death with honour,Than buy your life with baseness. As I am expos'dTo th' greatest battery beauty ever fought,O, blame me not if I be covetousTo come off with greatest honour. If I do thisTo let you live, I kill your name, and giveMy soul a wound; I crush her from sweet grace,And change her angel's to a fury's face.Try me no more, then; but, if you must bleed, boast,To preserve honour, life is nobly lost.
Lor.Thou wealth worth more than kingdoms! I am nowConfirm'd past all suspicion, thou art farSweeter in thy sincere truth, than a sacrificeDeck'd up for death with garlands. The Indian winds,[174]That blow off from the coast, and cheer the sailorWith the sweet savour of their spices, wantThe delight flows in thee. Look here, look here,O man of wild desires! We will die the martyrsOf marriage; and, 'stead of the loose dittiesWith which they stab sweet modesty, and engenderDesires in the hot-room, thy noble story[ToAbstemia.Shall, laurel-like, crown honest ears with glory.
Ant.Murder, murder, murder!
Enter the threeDukes, withLords.
Mil.Ha! who cries murder?Phil.As y' are a gentleman, now be true to me.Abs.Sir!Ven.Sister!Ver.My shame! art thou there?Ven.O sister, can it beA prince's blood should stain that white hand?Ambo.Hear us.Ant.No, no, no, hear me: 'twas I cried murder;Because I have found them both stain'd with the deedThey would have throttled me.Lor.Hear us: by all——Mil.Upon your lives, be silent. Speak on, sir:Had they both hands in our son's blood?Ant.Two hands apiece, sir.I have sifted it: they both have kill'd the prince;But this is the chief murderer. Please you, give me audience;Ye shall wonder at the manner how they kill'd him.Mil.Silence!Ant.He came first to this woman, and (truth's truth)He would have lain with her.Mil.Her own confession.Ant.Nay, good your grace.Mil.We are silent.Ant.Coming to seize upon her, with the first blowShe struck his base intent so brave a buffet,That there it bled to death. She said, his horseWould teach him better manners: there he died once.Ver.What does this fellow talk?Abs.I understand him.Ant.He met her next i' the wood, where he was found dead:Then he came noblier up to her, and told herMarriage was his intent; but she as nobly(Belike, to let him know she was married)Told him, in an intelligible denial,A chaste wife's truth shin'd through the greatest trial:There the prince died again.Lod.There's twice; beware the third time.Ant.The third time, he came here to them both in prison,Brought a pistol with him, would have forc'd her again;But had ye seen how fairly then she slew him,You would have shot applauses from your eyes:O, she came up so bravely to that princeHot potent Lust (for she slew no prince else),With such a valiant discipline she destroy'dThat debosh'd[175]prince, Bad Desire; and then, by himSo bravely too fetch'd off, that (to conclude)Betwixt them they this wonder did contrive,They kill'd the prince, but kept your son alive.[Discovers himself.Mil.Antonio!Omnes.The prince!Ven.Come home, my sister, to my heart.Ver.And now Lorenzo is again my belov'd kinsman.Ant.O sir, here dwells virtue epitomis'd,Even to an abstract, and yet that so large'Twill swell a book in folio.Lod.She swells beyond my wife then:A pocket-book, bound indecimo sexto,Will hold her virtues, and as much spare paper leftAs will furnish five tobacco-shops.Mil.But here's the wonder; who is it was slainIn your apparel?Phil.I will give them all the slip.[Offers to go.Ant.Here's a gentleman of Ferrara——Phil.As you are noble——Ant.That saw them fight: it was the slave was slain, sir,I took before Palermo: he that kill'd him,Took him but for a gentleman his equal;And as this eye-witness says, he in my apparelDid kick the t'other first.Phil.Nay, upon my life, sir,He in your apparel gave the first kick: I saw them fight,And I dare swear the t'other honest gentlemanLittle thought he had slain anything like the prince,For I heard him swear, but half an hour before,He never saw your grace.Mil.Then he kill'd him fairly?Phil.Upon my life, my lord.Ven.T'other had but his merit then: who diesAnd seeks his death, seldom wets others' eyes.Ant.Let this persuade you: I believe you noble.I have kept my word with you.Phil.You have outdone me, sir,In this brave exercise of honour: but let me,In mine own person, thank you.Omnes.Philippo!Phil.Unwittingly I did an ill—as't happened,To a good end: that slave I for you kill'dWanted but time to kill you: read that paper,Which I found with him, I thinking by accidentYou had intercepted it. We all have happilyBeen well deceived; you are noble, just, and true;My hate was at your clothes, my heart at you.Ver.An accident more strange hath seldom happen'd.Lor.Philippo, my best friend, 'twixt shame and love,Here let me lay thee now for ever.Abs.HeavenHath now plan'd all our rough woes smooth andeven.Mil.At court [a] large relation in apt formShall tender pass'd proceedings; but to distinguish,Excellent lady, your unparallel'd praisesFrom those but seem, let this serve: bad womenAre nature's clouds, eclipsing her fair shine:The good, all-gracious, saint-like and divine.[ExeuntOmnes.
Mil.Ha! who cries murder?
Phil.As y' are a gentleman, now be true to me.
Abs.Sir!
Ven.Sister!
Ver.My shame! art thou there?
Ven.O sister, can it beA prince's blood should stain that white hand?
Ambo.Hear us.
Ant.No, no, no, hear me: 'twas I cried murder;Because I have found them both stain'd with the deedThey would have throttled me.
Lor.Hear us: by all——
Mil.Upon your lives, be silent. Speak on, sir:Had they both hands in our son's blood?
Ant.Two hands apiece, sir.I have sifted it: they both have kill'd the prince;But this is the chief murderer. Please you, give me audience;Ye shall wonder at the manner how they kill'd him.
Mil.Silence!
Ant.He came first to this woman, and (truth's truth)He would have lain with her.
Mil.Her own confession.
Ant.Nay, good your grace.
Mil.We are silent.
Ant.Coming to seize upon her, with the first blowShe struck his base intent so brave a buffet,That there it bled to death. She said, his horseWould teach him better manners: there he died once.
Ver.What does this fellow talk?
Abs.I understand him.
Ant.He met her next i' the wood, where he was found dead:Then he came noblier up to her, and told herMarriage was his intent; but she as nobly(Belike, to let him know she was married)Told him, in an intelligible denial,A chaste wife's truth shin'd through the greatest trial:There the prince died again.
Lod.There's twice; beware the third time.
Ant.The third time, he came here to them both in prison,Brought a pistol with him, would have forc'd her again;But had ye seen how fairly then she slew him,You would have shot applauses from your eyes:O, she came up so bravely to that princeHot potent Lust (for she slew no prince else),With such a valiant discipline she destroy'dThat debosh'd[175]prince, Bad Desire; and then, by himSo bravely too fetch'd off, that (to conclude)Betwixt them they this wonder did contrive,They kill'd the prince, but kept your son alive.[Discovers himself.
Mil.Antonio!
Omnes.The prince!
Ven.Come home, my sister, to my heart.
Ver.And now Lorenzo is again my belov'd kinsman.
Ant.O sir, here dwells virtue epitomis'd,Even to an abstract, and yet that so large'Twill swell a book in folio.
Lod.She swells beyond my wife then:A pocket-book, bound indecimo sexto,Will hold her virtues, and as much spare paper leftAs will furnish five tobacco-shops.
Mil.But here's the wonder; who is it was slainIn your apparel?
Phil.I will give them all the slip.[Offers to go.
Ant.Here's a gentleman of Ferrara——
Phil.As you are noble——
Ant.That saw them fight: it was the slave was slain, sir,I took before Palermo: he that kill'd him,Took him but for a gentleman his equal;And as this eye-witness says, he in my apparelDid kick the t'other first.
Phil.Nay, upon my life, sir,He in your apparel gave the first kick: I saw them fight,And I dare swear the t'other honest gentlemanLittle thought he had slain anything like the prince,For I heard him swear, but half an hour before,He never saw your grace.
Mil.Then he kill'd him fairly?
Phil.Upon my life, my lord.
Ven.T'other had but his merit then: who diesAnd seeks his death, seldom wets others' eyes.
Ant.Let this persuade you: I believe you noble.I have kept my word with you.
Phil.You have outdone me, sir,In this brave exercise of honour: but let me,In mine own person, thank you.
Omnes.Philippo!
Phil.Unwittingly I did an ill—as't happened,To a good end: that slave I for you kill'dWanted but time to kill you: read that paper,Which I found with him, I thinking by accidentYou had intercepted it. We all have happilyBeen well deceived; you are noble, just, and true;My hate was at your clothes, my heart at you.
Ver.An accident more strange hath seldom happen'd.
Lor.Philippo, my best friend, 'twixt shame and love,Here let me lay thee now for ever.
Abs.HeavenHath now plan'd all our rough woes smooth andeven.
Mil.At court [a] large relation in apt formShall tender pass'd proceedings; but to distinguish,Excellent lady, your unparallel'd praisesFrom those but seem, let this serve: bad womenAre nature's clouds, eclipsing her fair shine:The good, all-gracious, saint-like and divine.[ExeuntOmnes.