Corn.If you do not back me, I shall never do't.Nich.I warrant you.Corn.Humh, humh: Sir; my Lord, my Lord.Mart.Hah? what's the matter?Corn.Humh; concerning the odd fifty, my Lord, and 't please your Generality, his Worship, SirNichodemus.Mar.What's here? a Pass? you would forRome? you lubbers, doth one days laziness make ye covet home? away, ye boarish rogues; ye dogs, away.
Corn.If you do not back me, I shall never do't.
Nich.I warrant you.
Corn.Humh, humh: Sir; my Lord, my Lord.
Mart.Hah? what's the matter?
Corn.Humh; concerning the odd fifty, my Lord, and 't please your Generality, his Worship, SirNichodemus.
Mar.What's here? a Pass? you would forRome? you lubbers, doth one days laziness make ye covet home? away, ye boarish rogues; ye dogs, away.
Enter wife.
Wife.Oh, oh, oh:How now man, are you satisfi'd?
Wife.Oh, oh, oh:How now man, are you satisfi'd?
Corn.I, I, I: a —— o' your Corporal; I 'm paid soundly, I was never better paid in all my life.Wife.Mar[r]y the gods blessing on his honors heart: you have done a charitable deed, Sir, many more such may you live to do, Sir: the gods keep you, Sir, the gods protect you.[Exit.
Corn.I, I, I: a —— o' your Corporal; I 'm paid soundly, I was never better paid in all my life.
Wife.Mar[r]y the gods blessing on his honors heart: you have done a charitable deed, Sir, many more such may you live to do, Sir: the gods keep you, Sir, the gods protect you.[Exit.
Mar.These peasants mock me sure (Valerius)Forgive my dotage, see my ashes urn'd,And tell fairDorigen, (she that but nowLeft me with this harsh vow, Sooner these rocksShould be remov'd, then she would yield) that IWas yet so loving, on her gift to die.Val.OJupiterforbid it, Sir, and grantThis my device may certifie thy mind:You are my brother, nor must perish thus:Be comforted: think you fairDorigenWould yield your wishes, if these envious rocksBy skill could be remov'd, or by fallacieShe made believe so?Mar.Why, she could not chuse;TheAtheniansare religious in their vows,Above all nations.Val.Soft, down yonder hillThe Lady comes this way, once more to trie her,If she persist in obstinacie: by my skillLearn'd from the oldCaldeanwas my Tutor,Who train'd me in theMathematicks, I willSo dazle and delude her sight, that sheShall think this great impossibilitieEffected by some supernatural means.Be confident; this engine shall at least,Till the gods better order, still this brest.[Exit Valerius.Mar.O my best brother, go; and for reward,Chuse any part o'th' world, I'll give it thee.O littleRome, men say thou art a god;Thou mightst have got a fitter fool then I.
Mar.These peasants mock me sure (Valerius)Forgive my dotage, see my ashes urn'd,And tell fairDorigen, (she that but nowLeft me with this harsh vow, Sooner these rocksShould be remov'd, then she would yield) that IWas yet so loving, on her gift to die.
Val.OJupiterforbid it, Sir, and grantThis my device may certifie thy mind:You are my brother, nor must perish thus:Be comforted: think you fairDorigenWould yield your wishes, if these envious rocksBy skill could be remov'd, or by fallacieShe made believe so?
Mar.Why, she could not chuse;TheAtheniansare religious in their vows,Above all nations.
Val.Soft, down yonder hillThe Lady comes this way, once more to trie her,If she persist in obstinacie: by my skillLearn'd from the oldCaldeanwas my Tutor,Who train'd me in theMathematicks, I willSo dazle and delude her sight, that sheShall think this great impossibilitieEffected by some supernatural means.Be confident; this engine shall at least,Till the gods better order, still this brest.[Exit Valerius.
Mar.O my best brother, go; and for reward,Chuse any part o'th' world, I'll give it thee.O littleRome, men say thou art a god;Thou mightst have got a fitter fool then I.
Enter Dorigen.
Dor.Art thou there, Basilisk? remove thine eyes,For I'm sick to death with thy infection.Mar.Yet, yet have mercy on me; save him, Lady,Whose single arm defends allRome, whose mercieHath sav'd thy husband's and thy life.Dor.To spoilOur fame and honors? no, my vow is fixt,And stands, as constant as these stones do, still.Mar.Then pitie me, ye gods; you onely mayMove her, by tearing these firm stones a way.
Dor.Art thou there, Basilisk? remove thine eyes,For I'm sick to death with thy infection.
Mar.Yet, yet have mercy on me; save him, Lady,Whose single arm defends allRome, whose mercieHath sav'd thy husband's and thy life.
Dor.To spoilOur fame and honors? no, my vow is fixt,And stands, as constant as these stones do, still.
Mar.Then pitie me, ye gods; you onely mayMove her, by tearing these firm stones a way.
[Solemn musick.A mist ariseth, the rocks remove.
Enter Valerius like Mercury, singing.
Val.Martius rejoyce, Jove sends me from above,His Messenger, to cure thy desperate love;To shew rash vows c[a]nnot binde destinie:Lady, behold, the rocks transplanted be.Hard-hearted Dorigen, yield, lest for contempt,They fix thee here a rock, whence they 're exempt.Dor.What strange delusion's this? what SorceryAffrights me with these apparitions?My colder Chastity's nigh turn'd to death.Hence, lewd Magician; dar'st thou make the godsBawds to thy lust; will they do miraclesTo further evil? or do they love it now?Know, if they dare do so, I dare hate them,And will no longer serve 'em.Jupiter,Thy golden showr, nor thy snow-white Swan,Had I beenLæda, or brightDanae,Had bought mine honor. Turn me into stoneFor being good, and blush when thou hast done.[Exit Dorigen.
Val.Martius rejoyce, Jove sends me from above,His Messenger, to cure thy desperate love;To shew rash vows c[a]nnot binde destinie:Lady, behold, the rocks transplanted be.Hard-hearted Dorigen, yield, lest for contempt,They fix thee here a rock, whence they 're exempt.
Dor.What strange delusion's this? what SorceryAffrights me with these apparitions?My colder Chastity's nigh turn'd to death.Hence, lewd Magician; dar'st thou make the godsBawds to thy lust; will they do miraclesTo further evil? or do they love it now?Know, if they dare do so, I dare hate them,And will no longer serve 'em.Jupiter,Thy golden showr, nor thy snow-white Swan,Had I beenLæda, or brightDanae,Had bought mine honor. Turn me into stoneFor being good, and blush when thou hast done.[Exit Dorigen.
Enter Valerius.
Mar.O myValerius, all yet will not do;Unless I could so draw mine honestieDown to the lees to be a ravisher;She calls me witch, and villain.Val.Patience, Sir,The gods will punish perjury. Let her breatheAnd ruminate on this strange sight. Time decaysThe strongest fairest buildings we can finde;But stillDiana, fortifie her minde.[Exeunt.
Mar.O myValerius, all yet will not do;Unless I could so draw mine honestieDown to the lees to be a ravisher;She calls me witch, and villain.
Val.Patience, Sir,The gods will punish perjury. Let her breatheAnd ruminate on this strange sight. Time decaysThe strongest fairest buildings we can finde;But stillDiana, fortifie her minde.[Exeunt.
Enter Sophocles and Dorigen.
Soph.Weep not brightDorigen; for thou hast stoodConstant and chaste (it seems 'gainst gods and men)When rocks and mountains were remov'd. These wondersDo stupifie my senses.Martius,This is inhumane: was thy sickness lust?Yet were this truth, why weeps she? Jealous soul,What dost thou thus suggest? Vows, Magick, Rocks?Fine tales, and tears. She ne'er complain'd before.I bade her visit him; she often did,Had many opportunities. Humh, 'tis naught: O!No way but this. Come, weep no more, I have ponder'dThis miracle: the anger of the gods,Thy vow, my love to thee, andMartius:He must not perish, nor thou be forsworn,Lest worse fates follow us; Go, keep thy oath:For chaste, and whore, are words of equal length:But let notMartiusknow that I consent,O! I'm pull'd in pieces.Dor.I? say you so?I'll meet you in your path. O wretched men!With all your valour and your learning, bubbles.Forgive me,Sophocles. Yet why kneel IFor pardon, having been but over-diligent,Like an obedient servant, antedatingMy Lords command? Sir, I have often, and already givenThis bosom up to his embraces, andAm proud that my dear Lord is pleas'd with it;Whose gentle honorable minde I seeParticipates even all, his wife and all,Unto his friend. You are sad, Sir.Martiusloves me,And I loveMartiuswith such ardencie,As never married couple could: I mustAttend him now. My Lord, when you have needTo use your own wife, pray Sir send for me;Till then, make use of your Philosophie.[Exit.Soph.Stay,Dorigen: O me, inquisitive fool!Thou that didst order this congested heapWhen it was Chaos, 'twixt thy spacious palmsForming it to this vast rotundie;Dissolve it now; shuffle the elements,That no one proper by it self may stand:Let the sea quench the sun, and in that instantThe sun drink up the sea: day, ne'er come down,To light me to those deeds that must be done.[Exit.
Soph.Weep not brightDorigen; for thou hast stoodConstant and chaste (it seems 'gainst gods and men)When rocks and mountains were remov'd. These wondersDo stupifie my senses.Martius,This is inhumane: was thy sickness lust?Yet were this truth, why weeps she? Jealous soul,What dost thou thus suggest? Vows, Magick, Rocks?Fine tales, and tears. She ne'er complain'd before.I bade her visit him; she often did,Had many opportunities. Humh, 'tis naught: O!No way but this. Come, weep no more, I have ponder'dThis miracle: the anger of the gods,Thy vow, my love to thee, andMartius:He must not perish, nor thou be forsworn,Lest worse fates follow us; Go, keep thy oath:For chaste, and whore, are words of equal length:But let notMartiusknow that I consent,O! I'm pull'd in pieces.
Dor.I? say you so?I'll meet you in your path. O wretched men!With all your valour and your learning, bubbles.Forgive me,Sophocles. Yet why kneel IFor pardon, having been but over-diligent,Like an obedient servant, antedatingMy Lords command? Sir, I have often, and already givenThis bosom up to his embraces, andAm proud that my dear Lord is pleas'd with it;Whose gentle honorable minde I seeParticipates even all, his wife and all,Unto his friend. You are sad, Sir.Martiusloves me,And I loveMartiuswith such ardencie,As never married couple could: I mustAttend him now. My Lord, when you have needTo use your own wife, pray Sir send for me;Till then, make use of your Philosophie.[Exit.
Soph.Stay,Dorigen: O me, inquisitive fool!Thou that didst order this congested heapWhen it was Chaos, 'twixt thy spacious palmsForming it to this vast rotundie;Dissolve it now; shuffle the elements,That no one proper by it self may stand:Let the sea quench the sun, and in that instantThe sun drink up the sea: day, ne'er come down,To light me to those deeds that must be done.[Exit.
Drums and Colours.
Enter Martius, Valerius, Captains and soldiers, at one door, and Dorigen with Lad[i]es, at another.
Dor.Hail, General ofRome; fromSophoclesThat honorsMartius,DorigenpresentsHer self to be dishonour'd: do thy will;ForSophoclescommands me to obey.Come, violate all rules of holiness,And rend the consecrated knot of love.Mar.Never,Valerius, was I blest till now:Behold the end of all my weary steps,The prize of all my Battels: leave us all;Leave us as quick as thought. Thus joy begin,In zealous love a minutes loss is sin.Val.CanMartiusbe so vile? orDorigen?Dor.Stay, stay, and monster, keep thou further of;I thought thy brave soul would have much, much loath'dTo have gone on still on such terms as this.See, thou ungrateful, since thy desperate lustNothing can cure but death, I'll die for thee,Whilst my chaste name lives to posterity.Mar.Live, live, thou Angel of thy sex: forgive,Till by those golden tresses thou be'st snatch'dAlive to Heaven: for thy corruption'sSo little, that it cannot suffer death.Was ever such a woman? O my mirror!How perfectly thou shew'st me all my faults,Which now I hate, and when I next attempt thee,Let all the fires in theZodiakDrop on this cursed head.All.O blest event!Dor.Rise like the sun again in all his glory,After a dark Eclipse.Mar.Never without a pardon.
Dor.Hail, General ofRome; fromSophoclesThat honorsMartius,DorigenpresentsHer self to be dishonour'd: do thy will;ForSophoclescommands me to obey.Come, violate all rules of holiness,And rend the consecrated knot of love.
Mar.Never,Valerius, was I blest till now:Behold the end of all my weary steps,The prize of all my Battels: leave us all;Leave us as quick as thought. Thus joy begin,In zealous love a minutes loss is sin.
Val.CanMartiusbe so vile? orDorigen?
Dor.Stay, stay, and monster, keep thou further of;I thought thy brave soul would have much, much loath'dTo have gone on still on such terms as this.See, thou ungrateful, since thy desperate lustNothing can cure but death, I'll die for thee,Whilst my chaste name lives to posterity.
Mar.Live, live, thou Angel of thy sex: forgive,Till by those golden tresses thou be'st snatch'dAlive to Heaven: for thy corruption'sSo little, that it cannot suffer death.Was ever such a woman? O my mirror!How perfectly thou shew'st me all my faults,Which now I hate, and when I next attempt thee,Let all the fires in theZodiakDrop on this cursed head.
All.O blest event!
Dor.Rise like the sun again in all his glory,After a dark Eclipse.
Mar.Never without a pardon.
Enter Sophocles, and two or three with him.
Dor.Sir, you have forgiven your self.Soph.Behold their impudence: are my words just?Unthankful man, viper to Arms, andRomeThy natural mother; have I warm'd thee hereTo corrode ev'n my heart?Martius, prepareTo kill me, or be kill'd.Mar.WhySophocles?Then prethee kill me; I deserve it highly;For I have both transgress'd 'gainst men, and gods;But am repentant now, and in best caseTo uncase my soul of this oppressing flesh;Which, though (Gods witness) nev'r was actuallyInjurious to thy wife and thee, yet 't wasHer goodness that restrain'd and held me now:But take my life, dear friend, for my intent,Or else forgive it.Val.By the gods ofAthens,These words are true, and all direct again.Soph.Pardon me,Dorigen.Mar.Forgive me,Sophocles,AndDorigentoo, and every one that 's good.Dor.Rise, noble Roman, belov'dSophocles,Take to thy brest thy friend.Mar.And to thy heartThy matchless wife: Heaven has not stuff enoughTo make another such: for if it could,Martiuswould marry too. For thy blest sake(O thou infinitie of excellence)Henceforth in mens discourseRomeshall not takeThe wall ofAthens, as 'tofore. But whenIn their fair honors we to speak do come,We'll say 'T was so inAthens, and inRome.
Dor.Sir, you have forgiven your self.
Soph.Behold their impudence: are my words just?Unthankful man, viper to Arms, andRomeThy natural mother; have I warm'd thee hereTo corrode ev'n my heart?Martius, prepareTo kill me, or be kill'd.
Mar.WhySophocles?Then prethee kill me; I deserve it highly;For I have both transgress'd 'gainst men, and gods;But am repentant now, and in best caseTo uncase my soul of this oppressing flesh;Which, though (Gods witness) nev'r was actuallyInjurious to thy wife and thee, yet 't wasHer goodness that restrain'd and held me now:But take my life, dear friend, for my intent,Or else forgive it.
Val.By the gods ofAthens,These words are true, and all direct again.
Soph.Pardon me,Dorigen.
Mar.Forgive me,Sophocles,AndDorigentoo, and every one that 's good.
Dor.Rise, noble Roman, belov'dSophocles,Take to thy brest thy friend.
Mar.And to thy heartThy matchless wife: Heaven has not stuff enoughTo make another such: for if it could,Martiuswould marry too. For thy blest sake(O thou infinitie of excellence)Henceforth in mens discourseRomeshall not takeThe wall ofAthens, as 'tofore. But whenIn their fair honors we to speak do come,We'll say 'T was so inAthens, and inRome.
[Exeun[t] in pomp.
Diana descends.
Diana.Honor set ope thy gates, and with thee bringMy servant and thy friend, fairDorigen:Let her triumph, with her, her Lord, and friend,Who, though misled, still honor was their end.[Flourish.
Diana.Honor set ope thy gates, and with thee bringMy servant and thy friend, fairDorigen:Let her triumph, with her, her Lord, and friend,Who, though misled, still honor was their end.[Flourish.
Enter the Shew ofHonors Triumph;a great flourish of Trumpets and Drums within; Then enter a noise of Trumpets sounding cheerfully. Then follows an armed Knight bearing a Crimson Banneret in hand, with the inscriptionValour:by his side a Lady, bearing a Watchet Banneret, the inscriptionClemencie:nextMartiusandSophocleswith Coronets. Next, two Lad[i]es, one bearing a white Banneret, the inscriptionChastity:the other a black, the inscriptionConstancie.ThenDorigencrown'd. Last, a Chariot drawn by two Moors, in it a Person crown'd, with a Scepter: on the top, in an antick Scutcheon, is writtenHonor.As they pass over, Dianaascends.Rinald.How like you it?Frig.Rarely; so well, I would they would do it again.How many of our wives now adays would deserve to triumph in such a Chariot?Rinald.That's all one; you see they triumph in Caroches.Frig.That they do, by the mass; but not all neither; many of them are content with Carts. But Seignior, I have now found out a great absurditie i'faith.Rinald.What was 't?Frig.The Prologue presenting four Triumphs, made but three legs to the King: a three-legged Prologue, 't was monstrous.Rinald.'T had been more monstrous to have had a four-legg'd one. Peace, the King speaks.
Enter the Shew ofHonors Triumph;a great flourish of Trumpets and Drums within; Then enter a noise of Trumpets sounding cheerfully. Then follows an armed Knight bearing a Crimson Banneret in hand, with the inscriptionValour:by his side a Lady, bearing a Watchet Banneret, the inscriptionClemencie:nextMartiusandSophocleswith Coronets. Next, two Lad[i]es, one bearing a white Banneret, the inscriptionChastity:the other a black, the inscriptionConstancie.ThenDorigencrown'd. Last, a Chariot drawn by two Moors, in it a Person crown'd, with a Scepter: on the top, in an antick Scutcheon, is writtenHonor.As they pass over, Dianaascends.
Rinald.How like you it?
Frig.Rarely; so well, I would they would do it again.How many of our wives now adays would deserve to triumph in such a Chariot?
Rinald.That's all one; you see they triumph in Caroches.
Frig.That they do, by the mass; but not all neither; many of them are content with Carts. But Seignior, I have now found out a great absurditie i'faith.
Rinald.What was 't?
Frig.The Prologue presenting four Triumphs, made but three legs to the King: a three-legged Prologue, 't was monstrous.
Rinald.'T had been more monstrous to have had a four-legg'd one. Peace, the King speaks.
Em.Here was a woman,Isabel.Isa.I, my Lord,But that she told a lye to vex her husband;Therein sh[e] fail'd.Em.She serv'd him well enough;He that was so much man, yet would be castTo jealousie for her integrity.This teacheth us, the passion of loveCan fight with Soldiers, and with Scholars too.Isa.InMartius, clemencie and valour shown,In the other, courage and humanitie;And therefore in the Triumph they were usher'dBy clemencie and valour.Em.Rightly observ'd,As she by chastitie and constancie;What hurt's now in a Play, against which some railSo vehemently? thou and I, my love,Make excellent use methinks: I learn to beA lawful lover void of jealousie,And thou a constant wife. Sweet Poetry'sA flower, where men, like Bees and Spiders, mayBear poison, or else sweets and Wax away.Be venom-drawing Spiders they that will;I'll be the Bee, and suck the honey still.[Flourish.
Em.Here was a woman,Isabel.
Isa.I, my Lord,But that she told a lye to vex her husband;Therein sh[e] fail'd.
Em.She serv'd him well enough;He that was so much man, yet would be castTo jealousie for her integrity.This teacheth us, the passion of loveCan fight with Soldiers, and with Scholars too.
Isa.InMartius, clemencie and valour shown,In the other, courage and humanitie;And therefore in the Triumph they were usher'dBy clemencie and valour.
Em.Rightly observ'd,As she by chastitie and constancie;What hurt's now in a Play, against which some railSo vehemently? thou and I, my love,Make excellent use methinks: I learn to beA lawful lover void of jealousie,And thou a constant wife. Sweet Poetry'sA flower, where men, like Bees and Spiders, mayBear poison, or else sweets and Wax away.Be venom-drawing Spiders they that will;I'll be the Bee, and suck the honey still.[Flourish.
Cupid descends.
Cupid.Stay, clouds, ye rack too fast: bright Phœbus see,Honor has triumph'd with fair Chastity:Give Love now leave, in purity to shewUnchaste affe[ct]ions flie not from his bowe.Produce the sweet example of your youth.Whilst I provide a Triumph for your Truth.[Flourish.
Cupid.Stay, clouds, ye rack too fast: bright Phœbus see,Honor has triumph'd with fair Chastity:Give Love now leave, in purity to shewUnchaste affe[ct]ions flie not from his bowe.Produce the sweet example of your youth.Whilst I provide a Triumph for your Truth.[Flourish.
Enter Violanta (with childe) and Gerrard.
Viol.Why does myGerr[a]rdgrieve?Ger.O my sweet Mistris,'Tis not life (which by ourMilainlawMy fact hath forfeited) makes me thus pensive;That I would lose to save the little fingerOf this your noble burthen, from least hurt,Because your blood is in't. But since your loveMade poor incompatible me the parent,(Being we are not married) your dear bloodFalls under the same cruel penalty;And can Heaven think fit ye die for me?For Heavens sake say I ravisht you, I'll swear it,To keep your life, and repute unstain'd.Viol.OGerrard, th' art my life and faculties:And if I lose thee, I'll not keep mine own;The thought of whom, sweetens all miseries.Wouldst have me murder thee beyond thy death?Unjustly scandal thee with ravishment?It was so far from rape, that Heaven doth know,If ever the first Lovers, ere they fell,Knew simply in the state of innocence,Such was this act, this, that doth ask no blush.Ger.O! but my rarestViolanta, whenMy LordRandulphobrother to you[r] father,Shall understand this, how will he exclaim,That my poor Aunt, and me, which his free almsHath nurs'd, sinceMillainby the Duke ofMantua(Who now usurps it) was surpriz'd? that timeMy father and my mother were both slain,With my Aunts husband, as she says, their statesDespoil'd and seiz'd; 'tis past my memory,But thus she told me: onely thus I know,Since I could understand, your honor'd UncleHath given me all the liberal education,That his own son might look for, had he one;Now will he say, Dost thou requite me thus?O! the thought kills me.Viol.Gentle, gentleGerrard,Be cheer'd, and hope the best. My mother, father,And uncle love me most indulgently,Being the onely branch of all their stocks:But neither they, nor he thou wouldst not grieveWith this unwelcom news, shall ever hearViolanta's tongue reveal, much less accuseGerrardto be the father of his own;I'll rather silent die, that thou maist liveTo see thy little of-spring grow and thrive.
Viol.Why does myGerr[a]rdgrieve?
Ger.O my sweet Mistris,'Tis not life (which by ourMilainlawMy fact hath forfeited) makes me thus pensive;That I would lose to save the little fingerOf this your noble burthen, from least hurt,Because your blood is in't. But since your loveMade poor incompatible me the parent,(Being we are not married) your dear bloodFalls under the same cruel penalty;And can Heaven think fit ye die for me?For Heavens sake say I ravisht you, I'll swear it,To keep your life, and repute unstain'd.
Viol.OGerrard, th' art my life and faculties:And if I lose thee, I'll not keep mine own;The thought of whom, sweetens all miseries.Wouldst have me murder thee beyond thy death?Unjustly scandal thee with ravishment?It was so far from rape, that Heaven doth know,If ever the first Lovers, ere they fell,Knew simply in the state of innocence,Such was this act, this, that doth ask no blush.
Ger.O! but my rarestViolanta, whenMy LordRandulphobrother to you[r] father,Shall understand this, how will he exclaim,That my poor Aunt, and me, which his free almsHath nurs'd, sinceMillainby the Duke ofMantua(Who now usurps it) was surpriz'd? that timeMy father and my mother were both slain,With my Aunts husband, as she says, their statesDespoil'd and seiz'd; 'tis past my memory,But thus she told me: onely thus I know,Since I could understand, your honor'd UncleHath given me all the liberal education,That his own son might look for, had he one;Now will he say, Dost thou requite me thus?O! the thought kills me.
Viol.Gentle, gentleGerrard,Be cheer'd, and hope the best. My mother, father,And uncle love me most indulgently,Being the onely branch of all their stocks:But neither they, nor he thou wouldst not grieveWith this unwelcom news, shall ever hearViolanta's tongue reveal, much less accuseGerrardto be the father of his own;I'll rather silent die, that thou maist liveTo see thy little of-spring grow and thrive.
Enter Dorothea.
Dor.Mistris, away, your Lord and father seeks you;I'll conveyGerrardout at the back door;He has found a husband for you, and insultsIn his invention, little thinking youHave made your own choice, and possest him too.Viol.A husband? 't mus[t] beGerrard, or my death.Fare well; be onely true unto thy self,And know Heavens goodness shall prevented be,Ere worthiestGerrardsuffer harm for me.Ger.Fare well, my life and soul. Aunt, to your counselI flee for aid. O unexpressible love! thou artAn undigested heap of mixt extremes,Whose pangs are wakings, and whose pleasures dreams.[Exeunt.
Dor.Mistris, away, your Lord and father seeks you;I'll conveyGerrardout at the back door;He has found a husband for you, and insultsIn his invention, little thinking youHave made your own choice, and possest him too.
Viol.A husband? 't mus[t] beGerrard, or my death.Fare well; be onely true unto thy self,And know Heavens goodness shall prevented be,Ere worthiestGerrardsuffer harm for me.
Ger.Fare well, my life and soul. Aunt, to your counselI flee for aid. O unexpressible love! thou artAn undigested heap of mixt extremes,Whose pangs are wakings, and whose pleasures dreams.[Exeunt.
Enter Benvoglio, Angelina, Ferdinand.
Ben.MyAngelina, never didst thou yetSo please me, as in this consent; and yetThou hast pleas'd me well, I swear, old wench: ha, ha.Ferdinand, she's thine own; thou'st have her, boy,Ask thy good Lady else.Ferd.Whom shall I have, Sir?Ben.Whom d' ye think, ifaith?Angel.Ghess.Ferd.Noble Madam,I may hope (prompted by shallow merit)Through your profound grace, for your chamber-maid.Ben.How 's that? how 's that?
Ben.MyAngelina, never didst thou yetSo please me, as in this consent; and yetThou hast pleas'd me well, I swear, old wench: ha, ha.Ferdinand, she's thine own; thou'st have her, boy,Ask thy good Lady else.
Ferd.Whom shall I have, Sir?
Ben.Whom d' ye think, ifaith?
Angel.Ghess.
Ferd.Noble Madam,I may hope (prompted by shallow merit)Through your profound grace, for your chamber-maid.
Ben.How 's that? how 's that?
[Ferd.Her chamber-maid, my Lord.
Ben.] Her chamber-pot, my Lord. You modest ass,Thou never shew'dst thy self an ass till now.'Fore Heaven I am angrie with thee. Sirha, sirha,This whitmeat spirit's not yours, legitimate,Advance your hope, and 't please you: ghess again.Ang.And let your thoughts flee higher: aim them right;Sir, you may hit, you have the fairest white.Ferd.If I may be so bold then, my good Lord,Your favour doth encourage me to aspireTo catch my Ladyes Gentlewoman.Ben.Where?Where would you catch her?Do you know my daughterViolanta, Sir?Ang.Well said: no more about the bush.Ferd.My good Lord,I have gaz'd onViolanta, and the stars,Whose Heavenly influence I admir'd, not knew,Nor ever was so sinful to believeI might attain 't.Ben.Now you are an ass again;For if thou ne'er attain'st, 't is onely longOf that faint heart of thine, which never did it.She is your Lords heir, mine,Benvoglio's heir,My brothers too,Randulpho's; her descentNot behinde any of theMillanois.AndFerdinand, although thy parentageBe unknown, thou know'st that I have bred thee upFrom five yeers old, and (do not blush to hear it)Have found thy wisdom, trust, and fair successSo full in all my affa[ir]s, that I am fitterTo call thee Master, then thou me thy Lord.Thou canst not be but sprung of gentlest blood;Thy minde shines thorow thee, like the radiant sun,Although thy body be a beauteous cloud.Come, seriously this is no flatterie,And well thou know'st it, though thy modest bloodRise like the morning in thy cheek to hear 't.Sir, I can speak in earnest: Vertuous service,So meritorious,Ferdinand, as yours,(Yet bashful still, and silent?) should extractA fuller price then impudence exact:And this is now the wages it must have;My daughter is thy wife, my wealth thy slave.Ferd.Good Madam pinch; I sleep: does my Lord mock,And you assist? Custom's inverted quite;For old men now adays do flout the young.Ben.FetchViolanta. As I intend thisReligiously, let my soul finde joy or pain.[Exit Angelina.Ferd.My honor'd Lord and Master, if I holdThat worth could merit such felicitie,You bred it in me, and first purchas'd it;It is your own: and what productionsIn all my faculties my soul begets,Your very mark is on: you need not addRewards to him, that is in [d]ebt to you:You sav'd my life, Sir, in the Massacre;There you begot me new, since foster'd me.O! can I serve to[o] much, or pray for you?Alas, 'tis slender paiment to your bountie.Your daughter is a paradice, and IUnworthie to be set there; you may chuseThe royalst seeds ofMilain.Ben.Prethee peace,Thy goodness makes me weep; I am resolv'd:I am no Lord o' th' time, to tie my bloodTo sordid muck; I have enough: my name,My [s]tate and honors I will store in thee,Whose wisdom will rule well, keep and increase:A knave or fool, that could confer the like,Would bate each hour, diminish every day.Thou art her price-lot th[e]n, drawn out by fate;An honest wise man is a Princes mate.Ferd.Sir, Heaven and you have over-charg'd my brestWith grace beyond my continence; I shall burst:The blessing you have given me (witness Saints)I would not change forMillain. But, my Lord,Is she prepar'd?Ben.What needs Preparative,Where such a Cordial is prescrib'd as thou?Thy person and thy virtues in one scale,Shall poize hers, with her beautie and her wealth;If not, I add my will unto thy weight;Thy mother's with her now. Son, take my keys,And let this prepar[a]tion for this Marriage,(This welcome Marriage) long determin'd here,Be quick, and gorgeous.—Gerrard.
Ben.] Her chamber-pot, my Lord. You modest ass,Thou never shew'dst thy self an ass till now.'Fore Heaven I am angrie with thee. Sirha, sirha,This whitmeat spirit's not yours, legitimate,Advance your hope, and 't please you: ghess again.
Ang.And let your thoughts flee higher: aim them right;Sir, you may hit, you have the fairest white.
Ferd.If I may be so bold then, my good Lord,Your favour doth encourage me to aspireTo catch my Ladyes Gentlewoman.
Ben.Where?Where would you catch her?Do you know my daughterViolanta, Sir?
Ang.Well said: no more about the bush.
Ferd.My good Lord,I have gaz'd onViolanta, and the stars,Whose Heavenly influence I admir'd, not knew,Nor ever was so sinful to believeI might attain 't.
Ben.Now you are an ass again;For if thou ne'er attain'st, 't is onely longOf that faint heart of thine, which never did it.She is your Lords heir, mine,Benvoglio's heir,My brothers too,Randulpho's; her descentNot behinde any of theMillanois.AndFerdinand, although thy parentageBe unknown, thou know'st that I have bred thee upFrom five yeers old, and (do not blush to hear it)Have found thy wisdom, trust, and fair successSo full in all my affa[ir]s, that I am fitterTo call thee Master, then thou me thy Lord.Thou canst not be but sprung of gentlest blood;Thy minde shines thorow thee, like the radiant sun,Although thy body be a beauteous cloud.Come, seriously this is no flatterie,And well thou know'st it, though thy modest bloodRise like the morning in thy cheek to hear 't.Sir, I can speak in earnest: Vertuous service,So meritorious,Ferdinand, as yours,(Yet bashful still, and silent?) should extractA fuller price then impudence exact:And this is now the wages it must have;My daughter is thy wife, my wealth thy slave.
Ferd.Good Madam pinch; I sleep: does my Lord mock,And you assist? Custom's inverted quite;For old men now adays do flout the young.
Ben.FetchViolanta. As I intend thisReligiously, let my soul finde joy or pain.[Exit Angelina.
Ferd.My honor'd Lord and Master, if I holdThat worth could merit such felicitie,You bred it in me, and first purchas'd it;It is your own: and what productionsIn all my faculties my soul begets,Your very mark is on: you need not addRewards to him, that is in [d]ebt to you:You sav'd my life, Sir, in the Massacre;There you begot me new, since foster'd me.O! can I serve to[o] much, or pray for you?Alas, 'tis slender paiment to your bountie.Your daughter is a paradice, and IUnworthie to be set there; you may chuseThe royalst seeds ofMilain.
Ben.Prethee peace,Thy goodness makes me weep; I am resolv'd:I am no Lord o' th' time, to tie my bloodTo sordid muck; I have enough: my name,My [s]tate and honors I will store in thee,Whose wisdom will rule well, keep and increase:A knave or fool, that could confer the like,Would bate each hour, diminish every day.Thou art her price-lot th[e]n, drawn out by fate;An honest wise man is a Princes mate.
Ferd.Sir, Heaven and you have over-charg'd my brestWith grace beyond my continence; I shall burst:The blessing you have given me (witness Saints)I would not change forMillain. But, my Lord,Is she prepar'd?
Ben.What needs Preparative,Where such a Cordial is prescrib'd as thou?Thy person and thy virtues in one scale,Shall poize hers, with her beautie and her wealth;If not, I add my will unto thy weight;Thy mother's with her now. Son, take my keys,And let this prepar[a]tion for this Marriage,(This welcome Marriage) long determin'd here,Be quick, and gorgeous.—Gerrard.
Enter Gerrard.
Ger.My good Lord,My Lord, your brother craves your conferenceInstantly, on affairs of high import.Ben.Why, what news?Ger.The Tyrant, my good Lord,Is sick to death of his old Apoplexie,Whereon the States advise, that Letters-missiveBe straight dispatcht to all the neighbour-Countreys,And Schedules too divulg'd on every post,To enquire the lost Duke forth: their purpose isTo re-instate him.Ben.'Tis a pious deed.Ferdinand, to my daughter: this delay(Though to so good a purpose) angers me;But I'll recover it. Be secret, son.Go woo with truth and expedition.[Exit.Ferd.O my unsounded joy! how fares myGerrard,My noble twin-friend? fie, thy l[oo]k is heavie,Sullen, and sowre; blanch it: didst thou knowMy cause of joy, thou 'ldst never sorrow more,I know thou lov'st me so, How dost thou?Ger.Well,Too well: my fraught of health my sickness is;In life, I am dead; by living dying still.Ferd.What sublunary mischief can predominateA wise man thus? or doth thy friendship play(In this antipathous extreme) with mine,Lest gladness suffocate me? I, I, I do feelMy spirit's turn'd to fire, my blood to air,And I am like a purifi'd essenceTri'd from all drossie parts.Ger.Were 't but my life,The loss were sacrific'd; but virtueMust for me be slain, and innocence made dust.Ferd.Fare well goodGerrard.Ger.Dearest friend, stay.Ferd.Sad thoughts are no companions for me now,Much less sad words: thy bosom bindes some secret,Which do not trust me with; for mine retainsAnother, which I must conceal from thee.Ger.I would reveal it: 't is a heavie tale:Canst thou be true, and secret still?Ferd.Why, friend?If you continue true unto your self,I have no means of falshood. Lock this door;Come, yet your prisoner's sure.Ger.Stay,Ferdinand.Ferd.What is this trouble? Love?Why, thou art capable of any woman.Doth want oppress thee? I will lighten thee:Hast thou offended law? My Lord and thine,And I, will save thy life. Does servitudeUpbraid thy freedom, that she suffers it?Have patience but three days, and I will make theeThy Lords companion. Can a friend do more?Ger.Lend me the means. How can this be?Ferd.First let this Cabinet keep your pawn, and I will trust:Yet for the form of satisfaction,Take this my Oath to boot. By my presum'dGentrie, and sacred known Christianitie,I'll die, ere I reveal thy trust.Ger.Then hear it.Your Lords fair daughterViolantaisMy betrothed wife, goes great with childe by me;And by this deed both made a pr[e]y to Law.How may I save her life? advise me, friend.Ferd.What did he say?Gerrard, whose voice was that?O death unto my heart, bane to my soul!My wealth is vanish'd like the rich mans store:In one poor minute all my daintie fareBut jugling dishes; my fat hope, despair.Ger.Is this so odious? where's your mirth?Ferd.Why thouHast robb'd me of it.Gerrard, draw thy sword;And if thou lov'st my Mistris chastitie,Defend it, else I'll cut it from thy heart,Thy theevish heart that stole it, and restore 't,Do miracles to gain her.Ger.Was she thine?Ferd.Never, but in my wish, and her fathers vow,Which now he left with me, on such sure terms;He call'd me son, and will'd me to provideMy Wedding-preparation.Ger.Strange.Ferd.Come, let'sKill one another quickly.Ger.Ferdinand, my love is old to her, thine new begot:I have not wrong'd thee; think upon thine Oath.Ferd.It manacles me,Gerrard, else this handShould bear thee to the Law. Fare well for ever:Since friendship is so fatal, never moreWill I have friend: thou hast put so sure a plea,That all my weal's litigious made by thee.Ger.I did no crime to you. His love transports him;And yet I mourn, that cruel destinieShould make us two thus one anothers cross:We have lov'd since boys; for the same time cast himOn LordBenvoglio, that my Aunt and IWere succour'd byRandulpho: men have call'd usThe parallels ofMillain; and some saidWe were not much unlike. O Heaven divert,That we should (ever since that time) be breedingMutual destruction.
Ger.My good Lord,My Lord, your brother craves your conferenceInstantly, on affairs of high import.
Ben.Why, what news?
Ger.The Tyrant, my good Lord,Is sick to death of his old Apoplexie,Whereon the States advise, that Letters-missiveBe straight dispatcht to all the neighbour-Countreys,And Schedules too divulg'd on every post,To enquire the lost Duke forth: their purpose isTo re-instate him.
Ben.'Tis a pious deed.Ferdinand, to my daughter: this delay(Though to so good a purpose) angers me;But I'll recover it. Be secret, son.Go woo with truth and expedition.[Exit.
Ferd.O my unsounded joy! how fares myGerrard,My noble twin-friend? fie, thy l[oo]k is heavie,Sullen, and sowre; blanch it: didst thou knowMy cause of joy, thou 'ldst never sorrow more,I know thou lov'st me so, How dost thou?
Ger.Well,Too well: my fraught of health my sickness is;In life, I am dead; by living dying still.
Ferd.What sublunary mischief can predominateA wise man thus? or doth thy friendship play(In this antipathous extreme) with mine,Lest gladness suffocate me? I, I, I do feelMy spirit's turn'd to fire, my blood to air,And I am like a purifi'd essenceTri'd from all drossie parts.
Ger.Were 't but my life,The loss were sacrific'd; but virtueMust for me be slain, and innocence made dust.
Ferd.Fare well goodGerrard.
Ger.Dearest friend, stay.
Ferd.Sad thoughts are no companions for me now,Much less sad words: thy bosom bindes some secret,Which do not trust me with; for mine retainsAnother, which I must conceal from thee.
Ger.I would reveal it: 't is a heavie tale:Canst thou be true, and secret still?
Ferd.Why, friend?If you continue true unto your self,I have no means of falshood. Lock this door;Come, yet your prisoner's sure.
Ger.Stay,Ferdinand.
Ferd.What is this trouble? Love?Why, thou art capable of any woman.Doth want oppress thee? I will lighten thee:Hast thou offended law? My Lord and thine,And I, will save thy life. Does servitudeUpbraid thy freedom, that she suffers it?Have patience but three days, and I will make theeThy Lords companion. Can a friend do more?
Ger.Lend me the means. How can this be?
Ferd.First let this Cabinet keep your pawn, and I will trust:Yet for the form of satisfaction,Take this my Oath to boot. By my presum'dGentrie, and sacred known Christianitie,I'll die, ere I reveal thy trust.
Ger.Then hear it.Your Lords fair daughterViolantaisMy betrothed wife, goes great with childe by me;And by this deed both made a pr[e]y to Law.How may I save her life? advise me, friend.
Ferd.What did he say?Gerrard, whose voice was that?O death unto my heart, bane to my soul!My wealth is vanish'd like the rich mans store:In one poor minute all my daintie fareBut jugling dishes; my fat hope, despair.
Ger.Is this so odious? where's your mirth?
Ferd.Why thouHast robb'd me of it.Gerrard, draw thy sword;And if thou lov'st my Mistris chastitie,Defend it, else I'll cut it from thy heart,Thy theevish heart that stole it, and restore 't,Do miracles to gain her.
Ger.Was she thine?
Ferd.Never, but in my wish, and her fathers vow,Which now he left with me, on such sure terms;He call'd me son, and will'd me to provideMy Wedding-preparation.
Ger.Strange.
Ferd.Come, let'sKill one another quickly.
Ger.Ferdinand, my love is old to her, thine new begot:I have not wrong'd thee; think upon thine Oath.
Ferd.It manacles me,Gerrard, else this handShould bear thee to the Law. Fare well for ever:Since friendship is so fatal, never moreWill I have friend: thou hast put so sure a plea,That all my weal's litigious made by thee.
Ger.I did no crime to you. His love transports him;And yet I mourn, that cruel destinieShould make us two thus one anothers cross:We have lov'd since boys; for the same time cast himOn LordBenvoglio, that my Aunt and IWere succour'd byRandulpho: men have call'd usThe parallels ofMillain; and some saidWe were not much unlike. O Heaven divert,That we should (ever since that time) be breedingMutual destruction.
Enter Dorothea.
Dor.O where are you? you have made a fair hand. By —— yonder is your Aunt with my Lady; she came in, justas she was wooing your Mistris for another; and what did me she, but out with her purse, and shew'd all the naked truth, ifaith. Fie upon you, you should never trust an old woman with a secret; they cannot hold; they cannot hold so well as we, and you'ld hang 'em. First, there was swearing and staring, then there was howling and weeping, and O my daughter, and O my mother.
Dor.O where are you? you have made a fair hand. By —— yonder is your Aunt with my Lady; she came in, justas she was wooing your Mistris for another; and what did me she, but out with her purse, and shew'd all the naked truth, ifaith. Fie upon you, you should never trust an old woman with a secret; they cannot hold; they cannot hold so well as we, and you'ld hang 'em. First, there was swearing and staring, then there was howling and weeping, and O my daughter, and O my mother.
Ger.The effect, the effect.Dor.Marry no way, but one with you.Ger.Why welcom. Shall she scape?Dor.Nay, she has made her scape already.Ger.Why, is she gone?Dor.The scape of her virginitie, I mean.You men are as dull, you can conceive nothing;You think it is enough to beget.Ger.I; but surely,Dorothea, that scap'd not;Her maiden-head suffer'd.Dor.And you were the Executioner.Ger.But what's the event? lord, how thou starv'st me,Doll!
Ger.The effect, the effect.
Dor.Marry no way, but one with you.
Ger.Why welcom. Shall she scape?
Dor.Nay, she has made her scape already.
Ger.Why, is she gone?
Dor.The scape of her virginitie, I mean.You men are as dull, you can conceive nothing;You think it is enough to beget.
Ger.I; but surely,Dorothea, that scap'd not;Her maiden-head suffer'd.
Dor.And you were the Executioner.
Ger.But what's the event? lord, how thou starv'st me,Doll!
Dor.Lord how thou starv'st me,Doll? By —— I would fain see you cry a little. Do you stand now, as if you could get a child? Come, I'll rack you no more: This is the heart of the business: always provided, Signior, that if it please the fates to make you a Lord, you be not proud, nor forget your poor handmaidDoll, who was partly accessary to the incision of thisHolofernianMaidenhead.Ger.I will forget my name first. Speak.Dor.Then thus; My Lady knows all; her sorrow is reasonably well digested; has vow'd to conceal it from my Lord, till delay ripen things better; Wills you to attend her this evening at the back gate; I'll let you in; where her own Confessor shall put you together lawfully, e'r the child be born; which birth is very near, I can assure you: all your charge is your vigilance; and to bring with you some trusty Nurse, to convey the Infant out of the house.
Dor.Lord how thou starv'st me,Doll? By —— I would fain see you cry a little. Do you stand now, as if you could get a child? Come, I'll rack you no more: This is the heart of the business: always provided, Signior, that if it please the fates to make you a Lord, you be not proud, nor forget your poor handmaidDoll, who was partly accessary to the incision of thisHolofernianMaidenhead.
Ger.I will forget my name first. Speak.
Dor.Then thus; My Lady knows all; her sorrow is reasonably well digested; has vow'd to conceal it from my Lord, till delay ripen things better; Wills you to attend her this evening at the back gate; I'll let you in; where her own Confessor shall put you together lawfully, e'r the child be born; which birth is very near, I can assure you: all your charge is your vigilance; and to bring with you some trusty Nurse, to convey the Infant out of the house.
Ger.Oh beam of comfort, take! go, tell my LadyI pray for her as I walk: my joys so flow,That what I speak or do, I do not know.[Exeunt.
Ger.Oh beam of comfort, take! go, tell my LadyI pray for her as I walk: my joys so flow,That what I speak or do, I do not know.[Exeunt.
Dumb Shew.
EnterViolantaat one door, we[e]ping, supported byCorneliaand a Frier; at another door, Angelinaweeping, attended byDorothea. Violantakneels down for pardon. Angelinashewing remorse, takes her up, and cheers her; so dothCornelia. AngelinasendsDorotheaforGerrard.EnterGerrardwithDorothea: AngelinaandCorneliaseem to chide him, shewingViolanta'sheavy plight: Violantarejoyceth in him: he makes signes of sorrow, intreating pardon: AngelinabringsGerrardandViolantato the Frier; he joyns them hand in hand, takes a Ring fromGerrard,puts it onViolanta'sfinger; blesseth them; Gerrardkisseth her: the Frier takes his leave. Violantamakes shew of great pain, is instantly conveyed in by the Women, Gerrardis bid stay; he walks in meditation, seeming to pray. EnterDorothea,whispers him, sends him out. EnterGerrardwith a Nurse blindfold; gives her a purse. To them EnterAngelinaandCorneliawith an Infant; they present it toGerrard;he kisseth and blesseth it; puts it into the Nurses arms, kneels, and takes his leave. Exeuntall severally.
EnterViolantaat one door, we[e]ping, supported byCorneliaand a Frier; at another door, Angelinaweeping, attended byDorothea. Violantakneels down for pardon. Angelinashewing remorse, takes her up, and cheers her; so dothCornelia. AngelinasendsDorotheaforGerrard.EnterGerrardwithDorothea: AngelinaandCorneliaseem to chide him, shewingViolanta'sheavy plight: Violantarejoyceth in him: he makes signes of sorrow, intreating pardon: AngelinabringsGerrardandViolantato the Frier; he joyns them hand in hand, takes a Ring fromGerrard,puts it onViolanta'sfinger; blesseth them; Gerrardkisseth her: the Frier takes his leave. Violantamakes shew of great pain, is instantly conveyed in by the Women, Gerrardis bid stay; he walks in meditation, seeming to pray. EnterDorothea,whispers him, sends him out. EnterGerrardwith a Nurse blindfold; gives her a purse. To them EnterAngelinaandCorneliawith an Infant; they present it toGerrard;he kisseth and blesseth it; puts it into the Nurses arms, kneels, and takes his leave. Exeuntall severally.
EnterBenvoglioandRandulpho.
Ben.He's dead, you say then.Rand.Certainly: and to hearThe people now dissect him now he's gone,Makes my ears burn, that lov'd him not: such Libels,Such Elegies and Epigrams they have made,More odious than he was. Brother, great menHad need to live by love, meting their deedsWith virtues rule; sound, with the weight of judgement,Their privat'st action: for though while they liveTheir power and policie masque their villanies,Their bribes, their lust, pride, and ambition,And make a many slaves to worship 'em,That are their flatterers, and their bawds in these:These very slaves shall, when these great beasts dye,Publish their bowels to the vulgar eye.Ben.'Fore Heaven 'tis true. But isRinaldo(brother) our good Duke, heard of living?Rand.Living, Sir, and will be shortly with the Senate: hasBeen close conceal'd atMantua, and reliev'd:But what's become of his? no tidings yet?But brother, till our good Duke shall arrive,Carry this news, here. Where's yourFerdinand?Ben.Oh busie, Sir, about this marriage:And yet my Girl o'th' suddain is fall'n sick:You'll see her e'r you go?Rand.Yes; well I love her;And yet I wish I had another daughterTo gratifie myGerrard, who (by ——)Is all the glory of my family,But has too much worth to [l]ive so obscure;I'll have him Secretary of EstateUpon the Dukes return: for credit me,The value of that Gentleman's not known;His strong abilities are fit to guideThe whole Republique: he hath Learning, youth,Valour, discretion, honesty of a Saint;His Aunt is wondrous good too.
Ben.He's dead, you say then.
Rand.Certainly: and to hearThe people now dissect him now he's gone,Makes my ears burn, that lov'd him not: such Libels,Such Elegies and Epigrams they have made,More odious than he was. Brother, great menHad need to live by love, meting their deedsWith virtues rule; sound, with the weight of judgement,Their privat'st action: for though while they liveTheir power and policie masque their villanies,Their bribes, their lust, pride, and ambition,And make a many slaves to worship 'em,That are their flatterers, and their bawds in these:These very slaves shall, when these great beasts dye,Publish their bowels to the vulgar eye.
Ben.'Fore Heaven 'tis true. But isRinaldo(brother) our good Duke, heard of living?
Rand.Living, Sir, and will be shortly with the Senate: hasBeen close conceal'd atMantua, and reliev'd:But what's become of his? no tidings yet?But brother, till our good Duke shall arrive,Carry this news, here. Where's yourFerdinand?
Ben.Oh busie, Sir, about this marriage:And yet my Girl o'th' suddain is fall'n sick:You'll see her e'r you go?
Rand.Yes; well I love her;And yet I wish I had another daughterTo gratifie myGerrard, who (by ——)Is all the glory of my family,But has too much worth to [l]ive so obscure;I'll have him Secretary of EstateUpon the Dukes return: for credit me,The value of that Gentleman's not known;His strong abilities are fit to guideThe whole Republique: he hath Learning, youth,Valour, discretion, honesty of a Saint;His Aunt is wondrous good too.
EnterViolantain a bed; AngelinaandDorotheasitting by her.