THE ATHEIST'S TRAGEDY;

Now, art thou come?Thou look'st ghastly:There sits in thy face some great determinationMixed with some fear.Bos.Thus it lightens into action:I am come to kill thee.Card.Ha!—Help! our guard!Bos.Thou art deceived;They are out of thy howling.Card.Hold; and I will faithfully divideRevenues with thee.Bos.Thy prayers and proffersAre both unseasonable.Card.Raise the watch! we are betrayed!Bos.I have confined your flight:I'll suffer your retreat to Julia's chamber,But no further.Card.Help! we are betrayed!

Enter, above,Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo,andGrisolan.

Mal.Listen.Card.My dukedom for rescue!Rod.Fie upon his counterfeiting!Mal.Why, 'tis not the cardinal.Rod.Yes, yes, 'tis he:But I'll see him hanged ere I'll go down to him.Card.Here's a plot upon me; I am assaulted! I am lost,Unless some rescue.Gris.He doth this pretty well;But it will not serve to laugh me out of mine honour.Card.The sword's at my throat!Rod.You would not bawl so loud then.Mal.Come, come, let's goTo bed: he told us thus much aforehand.Pes.He wished you should not come at him; but, believe't,The accent of the voice sounds not in jest:I'll down to him, howsoever, and with enginesForce ope the doors. [Exit above.Rod.Let's follow him aloof,And note how the cardinal will laugh at him.[Exeunt, above,Malatesti, Roderigo,andGrisolan.Bos.There's for you first,'Cause you shall not unbarricade the doorTo let in rescue. [Kills theServant.Card.What cause hast thou to pursue my life?Bos.Look there.Card.Antonio!Bos.Slain by my hand unwittingly.Pray, and be sudden: when thou killed'st thy sister,Thou took'st from Justice her most equal balance,And left her naught but her sword.Card.O, mercy!Bos.Now it seems thy greatness was only outward;For thou fall'st faster of thyself than calamityCan drive thee. I'll not waste longer time; there![Stabs him.Card.Thou hast hurt me.Bos.Again! [Stabs him again.Card.Shall I die like a leveret,Without any resistance?—Help, help, help!I am slain!

EnterFerdinand.

Ferd.The alarum! give me a fresh horse;Rally the vaunt-guard, or the day is lost.Yield, yield! I give you the honour of arms,Shake my sword over you; will you yield?Card.Help me; I am your brother!Ferd.The devil!My brother fight upon the adverse party![He wounds theCardinal,and, in the scuffle, givesBosolahis death-wound.There flies your ransom.Card.O justice!I suffer now for what hath former bin:Sorrow is held the eldest child of sin.

Ferd.Now you're brave fellows. Cæsar's fortune was harder than Pompey's; Cæsar died in the arms of prosperity, Pompey at the feet of disgrace. You both died in the field. The pain's nothing: pain many times is taken away with the apprehension of greater, as the toothache with the sight of the barber that comes to pull it out: there's philosophy for you.

Bos.Now my revenge is perfect.—Sink, thou main cause[KillsFerdinand.Of my undoing!—The last part of my lifeHath done me best service.Ferd.Give me some wet hay; I am broken-windedI do account this world but a dog kennel:I will vault credit and affect high pleasuresBeyond death.Bos.He seems to come to himself,Now he's so near the bottom.Ferd.My sister, O my sister! there's the cause on't.Whether we fall by ambition, blood, or lust,Like diamonds we are cut with our own dust. [Dies.Card.Thou hast thy payment too.Bos.Yes, I hold my weary soul in my teeth;'Tis ready to part from me. I do gloryThat thou, which stood'st like a huge pyramidBegun upon a large and ample base,Shalt end in a little point, a kind of nothing.

Enter below,Pescara, Malatesti, Roderigo,andGrisolan.

Pes.How now, my lord!

Mal.O sad disaster!

Rod.How comes this?

Bos.Revenge for the Duchess of Malfi murderedBy the Arragonian brethren; for AntonioSlain by this hand; for lustful JuliaPoisoned by this man; and lastly for myself,That was an actor in the main of allMuch 'gainst mine own good nature, yet i' the endNeglected.Pes.How now, my lord!Card.Look to my brother:He gave us these large wounds, as we were strugglingHere i' the rushes.[143]And now, I pray, let meBe laid by and never thought of. [Dies.Pes.How fatally, it seems, he did withstandHis own rescue!Mal.Thou wretched thing of bloodHow came Antonio by his death?Bos.In a mist; I know not how:Such a mistake as I have often seenIn a play. O, I am gone!We are only like dead walls or vaulted graves,That, ruined, yield no echo. Fare you well.It may be pain, but no harm, to me to dieIn so good a quarrel. O, this gloomy world!In what a shadow, or deep pit of darkness,Doth womanish and fearful mankind live!Let worthy minds ne'er stagger in distrustTo suffer death or shame for what is just:Mine is another voyage. [Dies.Pes.The noble Delio, as I came to the palace,Told me of Antonio's being here, and showed meA pretty gentleman, his son and heir.

EnterDelioandAntonio'sSon.

Mal.O sir, you come too late!Delio.I heard so, andWas armed for't, ere I came. Let us make noble useOf this great ruin; and join all our forceTo establish this young hopeful gentlemanIn's mother's right. These wretched eminent thingsLeave no more fame behind 'em, than should oneFall in a frost, and leave his print in snow;As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts,Both form and matter. I have ever thoughtNature doth nothing so great for great menAs when she's pleased to make them lords of truth:Integrity of life is fame's best friend,Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end.[Exeunt.

Cyril Tourneur'sAtheist's Tragedy; or, the Honest Man's Revenge, was first printed in 1611, "as in divers places it hath often been acted." It was probably written earlier thanThe Revenger's Tragedy.

It was not printed again until 1792, and was subsequently included in Churton Collins's edition of Tourneur's works.

Montferrers, a Baron

Belforest, a Baron.

D'Amville, Brother ofMontferrers.

Charlemont, Son ofMontferrers.

Rousard, elder Son ofD'Amville.

Sebastian, younger Son ofD'Amville.

Languebeau Snuffe, a Puritan, Chaplain toBelforest.

Borachio,D'Amville'sinstrument.

Fresco, Servant toCataplasma.

Serjeant in war.

Soldiers, Servants, Watchmen, Judges, Officers.

Levidulcia, Wife ofBelforest.

Castabella, Daughter ofBelforest.

Cataplasma, a Maker of Periwigs and Attires.

Soquette, a seeming Gentlewoman toCataplasma.

SCENE—France.

EnterD'Amville, Borachio,andAttendants.

D'Am.I saw my nephew Charlemont but nowPart from his father. Tell him I desireTo speak with him. [ExitServant.Borachio, thou art readIn nature and her large philosophy.Observ'st thou not the very self-same courseOf revolution, both in man and beast?Bor.The same, for birth, growth, state, decay and death;Only a man's beholding to his natureFor the better composition o' the two.D'Am.But where that favour of his nature isNot full and free, you see a man becomesA fool, as little-knowing as a beast.Bor.That shows there's nothing in a man aboveHis nature; if there were, considering 'tisHis being's excellency, 'twould not yieldTo nature's weakness.D'Am.Then, if Death casts upOur total sum of joy and happiness,Let me have all my senses feasted inThe abundant fulness of delight at once,And, with a sweet insensible increaseOf pleasing surfeit, melt into my dust.Bor.That revolution is too short, methinks.If this life comprehends our happiness,How foolish to desire to die so soon!And if our time runs home unto the lengthOf nature, how improvident it wereTo spend our substance on a minute's pleasure,And after, live an age in misery!D'Am.So thou conclud'st that pleasure only flowsUpon the stream of riches?Bor.Wealth is lordOf all felicity.D'Am.'Tis, oracle.For what's a man that's honest without wealth?Bor.Both miserable and contemptible.D'Am.He's worse, Borachio. For if charityBe an essential part of honesty,And should be practised first upon ourselves,Which must be granted, then your honest manThat's poor, is most dishonest, for he isUncharitable to the man whom heShould most respect. But what doth this touch meThat seem to have enough?—thanks industry.'Tis true, had not my body spread itselfInto posterity, perhaps I shouldDesire no more increase of substance, thanWould hold proportion with mine own dimensions.Yet even in that sufficiency of state,A man has reason to provide and add.For what is he hath such a present eye,And so prepared a strength, that can foresee,And fortify his substance and himselfAgainst those accidents, the least whereofMay rob him of an age's husbandry?And for my children, they are as near to meAs branches to the tree whereon they grow;And may as numerously be multiplied.As they increase, so should my providence;For from my substance they receive the sap,Whereby they live and flourish.Bor.Sir, enough.I understand the mark whereat you aim.

EnterCharlemont.

D'Am.Silence, we are interrupted. Charlemont!Charl.Good morrow, uncle.D'Am.Noble Charlemont,Good morrow. Is not this the honoured dayYou purposed to set forward to the war?Charl.My inclination did intend it so.D'Am.And not your resolution?Charl.Yes, my lord;Had not my father contradicted it.D'Am.O noble war! Thou first originalOf all man's honour, how dejectedlyThe baser spirit of our present timeHath cast itself below the ancient worthOf our forefathers, from whose noble deedsIgnobly we derive our pedigrees.Charl.Sir, tax not me for his unwillingness.By the command of his authorityMy disposition's forced against itself.D'Am.Nephew, you are the honour of our blood.The troop of gentry, whose inferior worthShould second your example, are becomeYour leaders; and the scorn of their discourseTurns smiling back upon your backwardness.Charl.You need not urge my spirit by disgrace,'Tis free enough; my father hinders it.To curb me, he denies me maintenanceTo put me in the habit of my rank.Unbind me from that strong necessity,—And call me coward, if I stay behind.D'Am.For want of means? Borachio, where's the gold?I'd disinherit my posterityTo purchase honour. 'Tis an interestI prize above the principal of wealth.I'm glad I had the occasion to make knownHow readily my substance shall unlockItself to serve you. Here's a thousand crowns.Charl.My worthy uncle, in exchange for thisI leave my bond; so I am doubly bound;By that, for the repayment of this gold,And by this gold, to satisfy your love.D'Am.Sir, 'tis a witness only of my love,And love doth always satisfy itself.Now to your father, labour his consent,My importunity shall second yours.We will obtain it.Charl.If entreaty fail,The force of reputation shall prevail. [Exit.D'Am.Go call my sons, that they may take their leavesOf noble Charlemont. Now, my Borachio!Bor.The substance of our former argumentWas wealth.D'Am.The question, how to compass it.Bor.Young Charlemont is going to the war.D'Am.O, thou begin'st to take me!Bor.Mark me then.Methinks the pregnant wit of man might makeThe happy absence of this CharlemontA subject of commodious providence.He has a wealthy father, ready evenTo drop into his grave. And no man's power,When Charlemont is gone, can interpose'Twixt you and him.D'Am.Thou hast apprehended bothMy meaning and my love. Now let thy trust,For undertaking and for secrecyHold measure with thy amplitude of wit;And thy reward shall parallel thy worth.Bor.My resolution has already boundMe to your service.D'Am.And my heart to thee.

EnterRousardandSebastian.

Here are my sons.—There's my eternity. My life in themAnd their succession shall for ever live.And in my reason dwells the providenceTo add to life as much of happiness.Let all men lose, so I increase my gain,I have no feeling of another's pain. [Exeunt.

EnterMontferrersandCharlemont.

Mont.I prithee, let this current of my tearsDivert thy inclination from the war,For of my children thou art only leftTo promise a succession to my house.And all the honour thou canst get by armsWill give but vain addition to thy name;Since from thy ancestors thou dost deriveA dignity sufficient, and as greatAs thou hast substance to maintain and bear.I prithee, stay at home.Charl.My noble father,The weakest sigh you breathe hath power to turnMy strongest purpose, and your softest tearTo melt my resolution to as softObedience; but my affection to the warIs as hereditary as my bloodTo every life of all my ancestry.Your predecessors were your precedents,And you are my example. Shall I serveFor nothing but a vain parenthesisI' the honoured story of your family?Or hang but like an empty scutcheonBetween the trophies of my predecessors,And the rich arms of my posterity?There's not a Frenchman of good blood and youth,But either out of spirit or exampleIs turned a soldier. Only CharlemontMust be reputed that same heartless thingThat cowards will be bold to play upon.

EnterD'Amville, Rousard,andSebastian.

D'Am.Good morrow, my lord.Mont.Morrow, good brother.Charl.Good morrow, uncle.D'Am.Morrow, kind nephew.What, ha' you washed your eyes wi' tears this morning?Come, by my soul, his purpose does deserveYour free consent;—your tenderness dissuades him.What to the father of a gentlemanShould be more tender than the maintenanceAnd the increase of honour to his house?My lord, here are my boys. I should be proudThat either this were able, or that inclinedTo be my nephew's brave competitor.Mont.Your importunities have overcome.Pray God my forced grant prove not ominous!D'Am.We have obtained it.—Ominous! in what?It cannot be in anything but death.And I am of a confident beliefThat even the time, place, manner of our deathsDo follow Fate with that necessityThat makes us sure to die. And in a thingOrdained so certainly unalterable,What can the use of providence prevail?

EnterBelforest, Levidulcia, Castabella,andAttendants.

Bel.Morrow, my Lord Montferrers, Lord D'Amville.Good morrow, gentlemen. Cousin Charlemont,Kindly good morrow. Troth, I was afearedI should ha' come too late to tell you thatI wish your undertakings a successThat may deserve the measure of their worth.Charl.My lord, my duty would not let me goWithout receiving your commandëments.Bel.Accompliments are more for ornamentThen use. We should employ no time in themBut what our serious business will admit.Mont.Your favour had by his duty been preventedIf we had not withheld him in the way.D'Am.He was a coming to present his service;But now no more. The book invites to breakfast.Wilt please your lordship enter?—Noble lady![Exeunt all exceptCharlemontandCastabella.Charl.My noble mistress, this accomplimentIs like an elegant and moving speech,Composed of many sweet persuasive points,Which second one another, with a fluentIncrease and confirmation of their force,Reserving still the best until the last,To crown the strong impulsion of the restWith a full conquest of the hearer's sense;Because the impression of the last we speakDoth always longest and most constantlyPossess the entertainment of remembrance.So all that now salute my taking leaveHave added numerously to the loveWherewith I did receive their courtesy.But you, dear mistress, being the last and bestThat speaks my farewell, like the imperious closeOf a most sweet oration, wholly havePossessed my liking, and shall ever liveWithin the soul of my true memory.So, mistress, with this kiss I take my leave.Cast.My worthy servant, you mistake the intentOf kissing. 'Twas not meant to separateA pair of lovers, but to be the sealOf love; importing by the joining ofOur mutual and incorporated breaths,That we should breathe but one contracted life.Or stay at home, or let me go with you.Charl.My Castabella, for myself to stay,Or you to go, would either tax my youthWith a dishonourable weakness, orYour loving purpose with immodesty.

EnterLanguebeau Snuffe.

And, for the satisfaction of your love,Here comes a man whose knowledge I have madeA witness to the contract of our vows,Which my return, by marriage, shall confirm.

Lang.I salute you both with the spirit of copulation, already informed of your matrimonial purposes, and will testimony to the integrity—

Cast.O the sad trouble of my fearful soul!My faithful servant, did you never hearThat when a certain great man went to the war,The lovely face of Heaven was masqued with sorrow,The sighing winds did move the breast of earth,The heavy clouds hung down their mourning heads,And wept sad showers the day that he went henceAs if that day presaged some ill successThat fatally should kill his happiness.And so it came to pass. Methinks my eyes(Sweet Heaven forbid!) are like those weeping clouds,And as their showers presaged, so do my tears.Some sad event will follow my sad fears.Charl.Fie, superstitious! Is it bad to kiss?Cast.May all my fears hurt me no more than this!

Lang.Fie, fie, fie! these carnal kisses do stir up the concupiscences of the flesh.

EnterBelforestandLevidulcia.

Lev.O! here's your daughter under her servant's lips.Charl.Madam, there is no cause you should mistrustThe kiss I gave; 'twas but a parting one.Lev.A lusty blood! Now by the lip of love,Were I to choose your joining one for me—Bel.Your father stays to bring you on the way.Farewell. The great commander of the warProsper the course you undertake! Farewell.Charl.My lord, I humbly take my leave.—Madam,I kiss your hand.—And your sweet lip.—[ToCastabella.] Farewell.[ExeuntBelforest, Levidulcia,andCastabella.Her power to speak is perished in her tears.Something within me would persuade my stay,But reputation will not yield unto't.Dear sir, you are the man whose honest trustMy confidence hath chosen for my friend.I fear my absence will discomfort her.You have the power and opportunityTo moderate her passion. Let her griefReceive that friendship from you, and your loveShall not repent itself of courtesy.

Lang.Sir, I want words and protestation to insinuate into your credit; but in plainness andtruth, I will qualify her grief with the spirit of consolation.

Charl.Sir, I will take your friendship up at use,And fear not that your profit shall be small;Your interest shall exceed your principal. [Exit.

Re-enterD'AmvillewithBorachio.

D'Am.Monsieur Languebeau! happily encountered. The honesty of your conversation makes me request more interest in your familiarity.

Lang.If your lordship will be pleased to salute me without ceremony, I shall be willing to exchange my service for your favour; but this worshipping kind of entertainment is a superstitious vanity; in plainness and truth, I love it not.

D'Am.I embrace your disposition, and desire to give you as liberal assurance of my love as my Lord Belforest, your deserved favourer.

Lang.His lordship is pleased with my plainness and truth of conversation.

D'Am.It cannot displease him. In the behaviour of his noble daughter Castabella a man may read her worth and your instruction.

Lang.That gentlewoman is most sweetly modest, fair, honest, handsome, wise, well-born, and rich.

D'Am.You have given me her picture in small.

Lang.She's like your diamond; a temptation in every man's eye, yet not yielding to any light impression herself.

D'Am.The praise is hers, but the comparison your own. [Gives him the ring.

Lang.You shall forgive me that, sir.

D'Am.I will not do so much at your request as forgive you it. I will only give you it, sir. By —— you will make me swear.

Lang.O! by no means. Profane not your lips with the foulness of that sin. I will rather take it.To save your oath, you shall lose your ring.—Verily, my lord, my praise came short of her worth. She exceeds a jewel. This is but only for ornament: she both for ornament and use.

D'Am.Yet unprofitably kept without use. She deserves a worthy husband, sir. I have often wished a match between my elder son and her. The marriage would join the houses of Belforest and D'Amville into a noble alliance.

Lang.And the unity of families is a work of love and charity.

D'Am.And that work an employment well becoming the goodness of your disposition.

Lang.If your lordship please to impose it upon me I will carry it without any second end; the surest way to satisfy your wish.

D'Am.Most joyfully accepted. Rousard! Here are letters to my Lord Belforest, touching my desire to that purpose.

EnterRousard,looking sickly.

Rousard, I send you a suitor to Castabella. To this gentleman's discretion I commit the managing of your suit. His good success shall be most thankful to your trust. Follow his instructions; he will be your leader.

Lang.In plainness and truth.

Rous.My leader! Does your lordship think me too weak to give the onset myself?

Lang.I will only assist your proceedings.

Rous.To say true, so I think you had need; for a sick man can hardly get a woman's good will without help.

Lang.Charlemont, thy gratuity and my promises were bothBut words, and both, like words, shall vanish into air.For thy poor empty hand I must be mute;This gives me feeling of a better suit.[ExeuntLanguebeauandRousard.D'Am.Borachio, didst precisely note this man?Bor.His own profession would report him pure.D'Am.And seems to know if any benefitArises of religion after death.Yet but compare's profession with his life;—They so directly contradict themselves,As if the end of his instructions wereBut to divert the world from sin, that heMore easily might ingross it to himself.By that I am confirmed an atheist.Well! Charlemont is gone; and here thou seestHis absence the foundation of my plot.Bor.He is the man whom Castabella loves.D'Am.That was the reason I propounded himEmployment, fixed upon a foreign place,To draw his inclination out o' the way.Bor.It has left the passage of our practice free.D'Am.This Castabella is a wealthy heir;And by her marriage with my elder sonMy house is honoured and my state increased.This work alone deserves my industry;But if it prosper, thou shalt see my brainMake this but an induction to a pointSo full of profitable policy,That it would make the soul of honestyAmbitious to turn villain.Bor.I bespeakEmployment in't. I'll be an instrumentTo grace performance with dexterity.D'Am.Thou shalt. No man shall rob thee of the honour.Go presently and buy a crimson scarfLike Charlemont's: prepare thee a disguiseI' the habit of a soldier, hurt and lame;And then be ready at the wedding feast,Where thou shalt have employment in a workWill please thy disposition.Bor.As I vowed,Your instrument shall make your project proud.D'Am.This marriage will bring wealth. If that succeed,I will increase it though my brother bleed.[Exeunt.

EnterCastabellaavoiding the importunity ofRousard.

Cast.Nay, good sir; in troth, if you knew how little it pleases me, you would forbear it.

Rous.I will not leave thee till thou'st entertained me for thy servant.

Cast.My servant! You are sick you say. You would tax me of indiscretion to entertain one that is not able to do me service.

Rous.The service of a gentlewoman consists most in chamber work, and sick men are fittest for the chamber. I prithee give me a favour.

Cast.Methinks you have a very sweet favour of your own.

Rous.I lack but your black eye.

Cast.If you go to buffets among the boys, they'll give you one.

Rous.Nay, if you grow bitter I'll dispraise your black eye.The gray-eyed morning makes the fairest day.

Cast.Now that you dissemble not, I could be willing to give you a favour. What favour would you have?

Rous.Any toy, any light thing.

Cast.Fie! Will you be so uncivil to ask a light thing at a gentlewoman's hand?

Rous.Wilt give me a bracelet o' thy hair then?

Cast.Do you want hair, sir.

Rous.No, faith, I'll want no hair, so long as I can have it for money.

Cast.What would you do with my hair then?

Rous.Wear it for thy sake, sweetheart.

Cast.Do you think I love to have my hair worn off?

Rous.Come, you are so witty now and so sensible. [Kisses her.

Cast.Tush, I would I wanted one o' my senses now!

Rous.Bitter again? What's that? Smelling?

Cast.No, no, no. Why now y'are satisfied, I hope. I have given you a favour.

Rous.What favour? A kiss? I prithee give me another.

Cast.Show me that I gave it you then.

Rous.How should I show it?

Cast.You are unworthy of a favour if you will not bestow the keeping of it one minute.

Rous.Well, in plain terms, dost love me? That's the purpose of my coming.

Cast.Love you? Yes, very well.

Rous.Give me thy hand upon't.

Cast.Nay, you mistake me. If I love you very well I must not love you now. For now y'are not very well, y'are sick.

Rous.This equivocation is for the jest now.

Cast.I speak't as 'tis now in fashion, in earnest. But I shall not be in quiet for you, I perceive, till I have given you a favour. Do you love me?

Rous.With all my heart.

Cast.Then with all my heart I'll give you a jewel to hang in your ear.—Hark ye—I can never love you. [Exit.

Rous.Call you this a jewel to hang in mine ear? 'Tis no light favour, for I'll be sworn it comes somewhatheavily to me. Well, I will not leave her for all this. Methinks it animates a man to stand to't, when a woman desires to be rid of him at the first sight. [Exit.

EnterBelforestandLanguebeau Snuffe.

Bel.I entertain the offer of this matchWith purpose to confirm it presently.I have already moved it to my daughter.Her soft excuses savoured at the first,Methought, but of a modest innocenceOf blood, whose unmoved stream was never drawnInto the current of affection. But when IReplied with more familiar arguments,Thinking to make her apprehension bold,—Her modest blush fell to a pale dislike;And she refused it with such confidence,As if she had been prompted by a loveInclining firmly to some other man;And in that obstinacy she remains.

Lang.Verily, that disobedience doth not become a child. It proceedeth from an unsanctified liberty. You will be accessory to your own dishonour if you suffer it.

Bel.Your honest wisdom has advised me well.Once more I'll move her by persuasive means.If she resist, all mildness set apart,I will make use of my authority.Lang.And instantly, lest fearing your constraintHer contrary affection teach her someDevice that may prevent you.Bel.To cut off every opportunityProcrastination may assist her withThis instant night she shall be married.Lang.Best.

EnterCastabella.

Cast.Please it your lordship, my mother attendsI' the gallery, and desires your conference.[ExitBelforest.This means I used to bring me to your ear.[ToLanguebeau.Time cuts off circumstance; I must be brief,To your integrity did CharlemontCommit the contract of his love and mine;Which now so strong a hand seeks to divide,That if your grave advice assist me not,I shall be forced to violate my faith.

Lang.Since Charlemont's absence I have weighed his love with the spirit of consideration; and in sincerity I find it to be frivolous and vain. Withdraw your respect; his affection deserveth it not.

Cast.Good sir, I know your heart cannot profaneThe holiness you make profession ofWith such a vicious purpose as to breakThe vow your own consent did help to make.Lang.Can he deserve your love who in neglectOf your delightful conversation andIn obstinate contempt of all your prayersAnd tears, absents himself so far from yourSweet fellowship, and with a purpose soContracted to that absence that you seeHe purchases your separation withThe hazard of his blood and life, fearing to wantPretence to part your companies.—'Tis rather hate that doth division move.Love still desires the presence of his love.—Verily he is not of the family of love.Cast.O do not wrong him! 'Tis a generous mindThat led his disposition to the war:For gentle love and noble courage areSo near allied, that one begets another;Or Love is sister and Courage is the brother.Could I affect him better then before,His soldier's heart would make me love him more.Lang.But, Castabella—

EnterLevidulcia.

Lev.Tush, you mistake the way into a woman.The passage lies not through her reason but her blood.[ExitLanguebeau. Castabellaabout to follow.Nay, stay! How wouldst thou call the child,That being raised with cost and tendernessTo full hability of body and means,Denies relief unto the parents whoBestowed that bringing up?Cast.Unnatural.Lev.Then Castabella is unnatural.Nature, the loving mother of us all,Brought forth a woman for her own reliefBy generation to revive her age;Which, now thou hast hability and meansPresented, most unkindly dost deny.Cast.Believe me, mother, I do love a man.Lev.Preferr'st the affection of an absent loveBefore the sweet possession of a man;The barren mind before the fruitful body,Where our creation has no referenceTo man but in his body, being madeOnly for generation; which (unlessOur children can be gotten by conceit)Must from the body come? If Reason wereOur counsellor, we would neglect the workOf generation for the prodigalExpense it draws us to of that which isThe wealth of life. Wise Nature, therefore, hathReserved for an inducement to our senseOur greatest pleasure in that greatest work;Which being offered thee, thy ignoranceRefuses, for the imaginary joyOf an unsatisfied affection toAn absent man whose blood once spent i' the warThen he'll come home sick, lame, and impotent,And wed thee to a torment, like the painOf Tantalus, continuing thy desireWith fruitless presentation of the thingIt loves, still moved, and still unsatisfied.

EnterBelforest, D'Amville, Rousard, Sebastian, Languebeau,&c.

Bel.Now, Levidulcia, hast thou yet preparedMy daughter's love to entertain this manHer husband, here?Lev.I'm but her mother i' law;Yet if she were my very flesh and bloodI could advise no better for her[144]good.Rous.Sweet wife,Thy joyful husband thus salutes thy cheek.Cast.My husband? O! I am betrayed.—Dear friend of Charlemont, your purityProfesses a divine contempt o' the world;O be not bribed by that you so neglect,In being the world's hated instrument,To bring a just neglect upon yourself![Kneels from one to another.Dear father, let me but examine myAffection.—Sir, your prudent judgment canPersuade your son that 'tis improvidentTo marry one whose disposition heDid ne'er observe.—Good sir, I may be ofA nature so unpleasing to your mind,Perhaps you'll curse the fatal hour whereinYou rashly married me.D'Am.My Lord Belforest,I would not have her forced against her choice.Bel.Passion o' me, thou peevish girl! I chargeThee by my blessing, and the authorityI have to claim thy obedience, marry him.Cast.Now, Charlemont! O my presaging tears!This sad event hath followed my sad fears.Sebas.A rape, a rape, a rape!Bel.How now!D'Am.What's that?Sebas.Why what is't but a rape to force a wenchTo marry, since it forces her to lieWith him she would not?Lang.Verily his tongue is an unsanctified member.Sebas.VerilyYour gravity becomes your perished soulAs hoary mouldiness does rotten fruit.Bel.Cousin, y'are both uncivil and profane.D'Am.Thou disobedient villain, get thee out of my sight.Now, by my soul, I'll plague thee for this rudeness.Bel.Come, set forward to the church.[Exeunt all exceptSebastian.

Sebas.And verify the proverb—The nearer the church the further from God.—Poor wench! For thy sake may his hability die in his appetite, that thou beest not troubled with him thou lovest not! May his appetite move thy desire to another man, so he shall help to make himself cuckold! And let that man be one that he pays wages to; so thou shalt profit by him thou hatest. Let the chambers be matted, the hinges oiled, the curtain rings silenced, and the chambermaid hold her peace at his own request, that he may sleep the quieter; and in that sleep let him be soundly cuckolded. And when he knows it, and seeks to sue a divorce, let him have no other satisfaction than this: He lay by and slept: the law will take no hold of her because he winked at it. [Exit.

Night time. A Banquet set out. Music.EnterD'Amville, Belforest, Levidulcia, Rousard, Castabella, Languebeau Snuffe,at one side. At the other side enterCataplasmaandSoquette,ushered byFresco.

Night time. A Banquet set out. Music.

EnterD'Amville, Belforest, Levidulcia, Rousard, Castabella, Languebeau Snuffe,at one side. At the other side enterCataplasmaandSoquette,ushered byFresco.

Lev.Mistress Cataplasma, I expected you an hour since.

Cata.Certain ladies at my house, madam, detained me; otherwise I had attended your ladyship sooner.

Lev.We are beholden to you for your company. My lord, I pray you bid these gentlewomen welcome; they're my invited friends.

D'Am.Gentlewomen, y'are welcome. Pray sit down.

Lev.Fresco, by my Lord D'Amville's leave, I prithee go into the buttery. Thou shalt find some o' my men there. If they bid thee not welcome they are very loggerheads.

Fres.If your loggerheads will not, your hogsheads shall, madam, if I get into the buttery. [Exit.

D'Am.That fellow's disposition to mirth shouldbe our present example. Let's be grave, and meditate when our affairs require our seriousness. 'Tis out of season to be heavily disposed.

Lev.We should be all wound up into the key of mirth.

D'Am.The music there!

Bel.Where's my Lord Montferrers? Tell him here's a room attends him.

EnterMontferrers.

Mont.Heaven given your marriage that I am deprived of, joy!

D'Am.My Lord Belforest, Castabella's health![D'Amvilledrinks.Set ope the cellar doors, and let this healthGo freely round the house.—Another toYour son, my lord; to noble Charlemont—He is a soldier—Let the instrumentsOf war congratulate his memory.[Drums and trumpets.

Enter aServant.

Ser.My lord, here's one, i' the habit of a soldier, says he is newly returned from Ostend, and has some business of import to speak.

D'Am.Ostend! let him come in. My soul foretellsHe brings the news will make our music full.My brother's joy would do't, and here comes heWill raise it.

EnterBorachiodisguised.

Mont.O my spirit, it does dissuadeMy tongue to question him, as if it knewHis answer would displease.D'Am.Soldier, what news?We heard a rumour of a blow you gaveThe enemy.[145]Bor.'Tis very true, my lord.Bel.Canst thou relate it?Bor.Yes.D'Am.I prithee do.Bor.The enemy, defeated of a fairAdvantage by a flatt'ring stratagem,Plants all the artillery against the town;Whose thunder and lightning made our bulwarks shake,And threatened in that terrible reportThe storm wherewith they meant to second it.The assault was general. But, for the placeThat promised most advantage to be forced,The pride of all their army was drawn forthAnd equally divided into frontAnd rear. They marched, and coming to a stand,Ready to pass our channel at an ebb,We advised it for our safest course, to drawOur sluices up and mak't impassable.Our governor opposed and suffered themTo charge us home e'en to the rampier's foot.But when their front was forcing up our breachAt push o' pike, then did his policyLet go the sluices, and tripped up the heelsOf the whole body of their troop that stoodWithin the violent current of the stream.Their front, beleaguered 'twixt the water andThe town, seeing the flood was grown too deepTo promise them a safe retreat, exposedThe force of all their spirits (like the lastExpiring gasp of a strong-hearted man)Upon the hazard of one charge, but wereOppressed, and fell. The rest that could not swimWere only drowned; but those that thought to 'scapeBy swimming, were by murderers that flankedThe level of the flood, both drowned and slain.

D'Am.Now, by my soul, soldier, a brave service.

Mont.O what became of my dear Charlemont?

Bor.Walking next day upon the fatal shore,Among the slaughtered bodies of their menWhich the full-stomached sea had cast uponThe sands, it was my unhappy chance to lightUpon a face, whose favour[146]when it lived,My astonished mind informed me I had seen.He lay in's armour, as if that had beenHis coffin; and the weeping sea, like oneWhose milder temper doth lament the deathOf him whom in his rage he slew, runs upThe shore, embraces him, kisses his cheek,Goes back again, and forces up the sandsTo bury him, and every time it partsSheds tears upon him, till at last (as ifIt could no longer endure to see the manWhom it had slain, yet loth to leave him) withA kind of unresolved unwilling pace,Winding her waves one in another, likeA man that folds his arms or wrings his handsFor grief, ebbed from the body, and descendsAs if it would sink down into the earth,And hide itself for shame of such a deed.[147]D'Am.And, soldier, who was this?Mont.O Charlemont!Bor.Your fear hath told you that, whereof my griefWas loth to be the messenger.Cast.O God! [Exit.D'Am.Charlemont drowned! Why how could that be, sinceIt was the adverse party that receivedThe overthrow?Bor.His forward spirit pressed into the front,And being engaged within the enemyWhen they retreated through the rising stream,I' the violent confusion of the throngWas overborne, and perished in the flood.And here's the sad remembrance of his life—the scarf,Which, for his sake, I will for ever wear.Mont.Torment me not with witnesses of thatWhich I desire not to believe, yet must.D'Am.Thou art a screech-owl and dost come i' the nightTo be the cursèd messenger of death.Away! depart my house, or, by my soul,You'll find me a more fatal enemyThan ever was Ostend. Begone; dispatch!Bor.Sir, 'twas my love.D'Am.Your love to vex my heartWith that I hate?Hark, do you hear, you knave?O thou'rt a most delicate, sweet, eloquent villain![Aside.Bor.Was't not well counterfeited? [Aside.D'Am.Rarely.—[Aside.] Begone. I will not here reply.Bor.Why then, farewell. I will not trouble you.[Exit.D'Am.So. The foundation's laid. Now by degrees[Aside.The work will rise and soon be perfected.O this uncertain state of mortal man!Bel.What then? It is the inevitable fateOf all things underneath the moon.D'Am.'Tis true.Brother, for health's sake overcome your grief.Mont.I cannot, sir. I am incapableOf comfort. My turn will be next. I feelMyself not well.D'Am.You yield too much to grief.

Lang.All men are mortal. The hour of death isuncertain. Age makes sickness the more dangerous, and grief is subject to distraction. You know not how soon you may be deprived of the benefit of sense. In my understanding, therefore,You shall do well if you be sick to setYour state in present order. Make your will.D'Am.I have my wish. Lights for my brother.Mont.I'll withdraw a while,And crave the honest counsel of this man.Bel.With all my heart. I pray attend him, sir.[ExeuntMontferrersandSnuffe.This next room, please your lordship.D'Am.Where you will.[ExeuntBelforestandD'Amville.

Lev.My daughter's gone. Come, son, Mistress Cataplasma, come, we'll up into her chamber. I'd fain see how she entertains the expectation of her husband's bedfellowship.

Rou.'Faith, howsoever she entertains it, IShall hardly please her; therefore let her rest.Lev.Nay, please her hardly, and you please her best.[Exeunt.

Enter threeServants,drunk, drawing inFresco.

1st Ser.Boy! fill some drink, boy.

Fres.Enough, good sir; not a drop more by this light.

2nd Ser.Not by this light? Why then put out the candles and we'll drink i' the dark, and t'-to't, old boy.

Fres.No, no, no, no, no.

3rd Ser.Why then take thy liquor. A health, Fresco! [Kneels.

Fres.Your health will make me sick, sir.

1st Ser.Then 'twill bring you o' your knees, I hope, sir.

Fres.May I not stand and pledge it, sir?

2nd Ser.I hope you will do as we do.

Fres.Nay then, indeed I must not stand, for you cannot.

3rd Ser.Well said, old boy.

Fres.Old boy! you'll make me a young child anon; for if I continue this I shall scarce be able to go alone.

1st Ser.My body is as weak as water, Fresco.

Fres.Good reason, sir. The beer has sent all the malt up into your brain and left nothing but the water in your body.

EnterD'AmvilleandBorachio,closely observing their drunkenness.

D'Am.Borachio, seest those fellows?

Bor.Yes, my lord.

D'Am.Their drunkenness, that seems ridiculous,Shall be a serious instrument to bringOur sober purposes to their success.Bor.I am prepared for the execution, sir.D'Am.Cast off this habit and about it straight.Bor.Let them drink healths and drown their brains i' the flood;I promise them they shall be pledged in blood.[Exit.1st Ser.You ha' left a damnable snuff here.2nd Ser.Do you take that in snuff, sir?1st Ser.You are a damnable rogue then—[Together by the ears.D'Am.Fortune, I honour thee. My plot still risesAccording to the model of mine own desires.Lights for my brother—What ha' you drunk yourselves mad, you knaves?

1st Ser.My lord, the jacks abused me.

D'Am.I think they are the jacks[148]indeed that have abused thee. Dost hear? That fellow is a proud knave. He has abused thee. As thou goest over the fields by-and-by in lighting my brother home, I'll tell thee what shalt do. Knock him over the pate with thy torch. I'll bear thee out in't.

1st Ser.I will singe the goose by this torch. [Exit.

D'Am.[To 2nd Servant.] Dost hear, fellow?Seest thou that proud knave.I have given him a lesson for his sauciness.He's wronged thee. I will tell thee what shalt do:As we go over the fields by-and-byClap him suddenly o'er the coxcomb withThy torch. I'll bear thee out in't.

2nd Ser.I will make him understand as much. [Exit.

EnterLanguebeau Snuffe.

D'Am.Now, Monsieur Snuffe, what has my brother done?

Lang.Made his will, and by that will made you his heir with this proviso, that as occasion shall hereafter move him, he may revoke, or alter it when he pleases.

D'Am.Yes. Let him if he can.—I'll make it sureFrom his revoking. [Aside.

EnterMontferrersandBelforestattended with lights.

Mont.Brother, now good night.D'Am.The sky is dark; we'll bring you o'er the fields.Who can but strike, wants wisdom to maintain;He that strikes safe and sure, has heart and brain.[Exeunt.

EnterCastabella.

Cas.O love, thou chaste affection of the soul,Without the adulterate mixture of the blood,That virtue, which to goodness addeth good,—The minion of Heaven's heart. Heaven! is't my fateFor loving that thou lov'st, to get thy hate,Or was my Charlemont thy chosen love,And therefore hast received him to thyself?Then I confess thy anger's not unjust.I was thy rival. Yet to be divorcedFrom love, has been a punishment enough(Sweet Heaven!) without being married unto hate,Hadst thou been pleased,—O double misery,—Yet, since thy pleasure hath inflicted it,If not my heart, my duty shall submit.

EnterLevidulcia, Rousard, Cataplasma, Soquette,andFrescowith a lanthorn.

Lev.Mistress Cataplasma, good night. I pray when your man has brought you home, let him return and light me to my house.

Cata.He shall instantly wait upon your ladyship.

Lev.Good Mistress Cataplasma! for my servants are all drunk, I cannot be beholden to 'em for their attendance.[ExeuntCataplasma, Soquette,andFresco.O here's your bride!

Rous.And melancholic too, methinks.

Lev.How can she choose? Your sickness willDistaste the expected sweetness o' the nightThat makes her heavy.Rous.That should make her light.Lev.Look you to that.Cast.What sweetness speak you of?The sweetness of the night consists in rest.Rous.With that sweetness thou shalt be surely blestUnless my groaning wake thee. Do not moan.Lev.She'd rather you would wake, and make her groan.Rous.Nay 'troth, sweetheart, I will not trouble thee.Thou shalt not lose thy maidenhead to-night.Cast.O might that weakness ever be in force,I never would desire to sue divorce.Rous.Wilt go to bed?Cast.I will attend you, sir.Rous.Mother, good night.Lev.Pleasure be your bedfellow.[ExeuntRousardandCastabella.Why sure their generation was asleepWhen she begot those dormice, that she madeThem up so weakly and imperfectly.One wants desire, the t'other ability,When my affection even with their cold bloods(As snow rubbed through an active hand does makeThe flesh to burn) by agitation isInflamed, I could embrace and entertainThe air to cool it.

EnterSebastian.

Sebas.That but mitigatesThe heat; rather embrace and entertainA younger brother; he can quench the fire.Lev.Can you so, sir? Now I beshrew your ear.Why, bold Sebastian, how dare you approachSo near the presence of your displeased father?Sebas.Under the protection of his present absence.Lev.Belike you knew he was abroad then?Sebas.Yes.Let me encounter you so: I'll persuadeYour means to reconcile me to his loves.Lev.Is that the way? I understand you not.But for your reconcilement meet me at home;I'll satisfy your suit.

Sebas.Within this half-hour? [Exit.

Lev.Or within this whole hour. When you will.—A lusty blood! has both the presence and spirit of a man. I like the freedom of his behaviour.—Ho!—Sebastian! Gone?—Has setMy blood o' boiling i' my veins. And now,Like water poured upon the ground that mixesItself with every moisture it meets, I couldClasp with any man.

EnterFrescowith a lanthorn.

O, Fresco, art thou come?If t'other fail, then thou art entertained.Lust is a spirit, which whosoe'er doth raise,The next man that encounters boldly, lays. [Exeunt.

EnterBorachiowarily and hastily over the Stage with a stone in either hand.

Bor.Such stones men use to raise a house upon,But with these stones I go to ruin one. [Descends.

Enter twoServantsdrunk, fighting with their torches;D'Amville, Montferrers, Belforest,andLanguebeau Snuffe.

Bel.Passion o' me, you drunken knaves! You'll putThe lights out.D'Am.No, my lord; they are but in jest.1st Ser.Mine's out.D'Am.Then light it at his head,—that's light enough.—'Fore God, they are out. You drunken rascals, backAnd light 'em.Bel.'Tis exceeding dark. [ExeuntServants.D'Am.No matter;I am acquainted with the way. Your hand.Let's easily walk. I'll lead you till they come.Mont.My soul's oppressed with grief. 'T lies heavy atMy heart. O my departed son, ere longI shall be with thee![D'Amvillethrusts him down into the gravel pit.D'Am.Marry, God forbid!Mont.O, O, O!D'Am.Now all the host of Heaven forbid! Knaves! Rogues!Bel.Pray God he be not hurt. He's fallen into the gravel pit.D'Am.Brother! dear brother! Rascals! villains! Knaves!

Re-enterServantswith lights.

Eternal darkness damn you! come away!Go round about into the gravel pit,And help my brother up. Why what a strangeUnlucky night is this! Is't not, my lord?I think that dog that howled the news of grief,That fatal screech-owl, ushered on this mischief.

[ExitServantsand Re-enter with the murdered body.

Lang.Mischief indeed, my lord. Your brother's dead!Bel.He's dead?Ser.He's dead!D'Am.Dead be your tongues! Drop outMine eye-balls and let envious Fortune playAt tennis with 'em. Have I lived to this?Malicious Nature, hadst thou borne me blind,Thou hadst yet been something favourable to me.No breath? no motion? Prithee tell me, Heaven,Hast shut thine eye to wink at murder; orHast put this sable garment on to mournAt's death?Not one poor spark in the whole spacious skyOf all that endless number would vouchsafeTo shine?—You viceroys to the king of Nature,Whose constellations govern mortal births,Where is that fatal planet ruled at hisNativity? that might ha' pleased to light him out,As well as into the world, unless it beAshamèd I have been the instrumentOf such a good man's cursèd destiny.—Bel.Passion transports you. Recollect yourself.Lament him not. Whether our deaths be goodOr bad, it is not death, but life that tries.He lived well; therefore, questionless, well dies.D'Am.Ay, 'tis an easy thing for him that hasNo pain, to talk of patience. Do you thinkThat Nature has no feeling?Bel.Feeling? Yes.But has she purposed anything for nothing?What good receives this body by your grief?Whether is't more unnatural, not to grieveFor him you cannot help with it, or hurtYourself with grieving, and yet grieve in vain?D'Am.Indeed, had he been taken from me likeA piece o' dead flesh, I should neither ha' felt itNor grieved for't. But come hither, pray look here.Behold the lively tincture of his blood!Neither the dropsy nor the jaundice in't,But the true freshness of a sanguine red,For all the fog of this black murderous nightHas mixed with it. For anything I knowHe might ha' lived till doomsday, and ha' doneMore good than either you or I. O brother!He was a man of such a native goodness,As if regeneration had been givenHim in his mother's womb. So harmlessThat rather than ha' trod upon a wormHe would ha' shunned the way.So dearly pitiful that ere the poorCould ask his charity with dry eyes he gave 'emRelief with tears—with tears—yes, faith, with tears.Bel.Take up the corpse. For wisdom's sake let reason fortify this weakness.D'Am.Why, what would you ha' me do? Foolish NatureWill have her course in spite o' wisdom. ButI have e'en done. All these words wereBut a great wind; and now this shower of tearsHas laid it, I am calm again. You maySet forward when you will. I'll follow youLike one that must and would not.Lang.Our opposition will but trouble him.Bel.The grief that melts to tears by itself is spent;Passion resisted grows more violent.[Exeunt all exceptD'Amville. Borachioascends.D'Am.Here's a sweet comedy. 'T begins withO Dolentis[149]and concludes with ha, ha, he!Bor.Ha, ha, he!D'Am.O my echo! I could standReverberating this sweet musical airOf joy till I had perished my sound lungsWith violent laughter. Lonely night-raven,Thou hast seized a carcase.Bor.Put him out on's pain.I lay so fitly underneath the bank,From whence he fell, that ere his faltering tongueCould utter double O, I knocked out's brainsWith this fair ruby, and had another stone,Just of this form and bigness, ready; thatI laid i' the broken skull upon the groundFor's pillow, against the which they thought he fellAnd perished.D'Am.Upon this ground I'll build my manor house;And this shall be the chiefest corner stone.Bor.'T has crowned the most judicious murder thatThe brain of man was e'er delivered of.D'Am.Ay, mark the plot. Not any circumstanceThat stood within the reach of the designOf persons, dispositions, matter, time, or placeBut by this brain of mine was madeAn instrumental help; yet nothing fromThe induction to the accomplishment seemed forced,Or done o' purpose, but by accident.Bor.First, my report that Charlemont was dead,Though false, yet covered with a mask of truth.D'Am.Ay, and delivered in as fit a timeWhen all our minds so wholly were possessedWith one affair, that no man would suspectA thought employed for any second end.Bor.Then the precisian[150]to be ready, whenYour brother spake of death, to move his will.D'Am.His business called him thither, and it fellWithin his office unrequested to't.From him it came religiously, and savedOur project from suspicion which if IHad moved, had been endangered.Bor.Then your healths,Though seeming but the ordinary ritesAnd ceremonies due to festivals—D'Am.Yet used by me to make the servants drunk,An instrument the plot could not have missed.'Twas easy to set drunkards by the ears,They'd nothing but their torches to fight with,And when those lights were out—Bor.Then darkness didProtect the execution of the workBoth from prevention and discovery.D'Am.Here was a murder bravely carried throughThe eye of observation, unobserved.Bor.And those that saw the passage of it madeThe instruments, yet knew not what they did.D'Am.That power of rule philosophers ascribeTo him they call the Supreme of the starsMaking their influences governorsOf sublunary creatures, when themselvesAre senseless of their operations.What! [Thunder and lightning.Dost start at thunder? Credit my belief'Tis a mere effect of Nature—an exhalation hotAnd dry involved within a watery vapourI' the middle region of the air; whose coldness,Congealing that thick moisture to a cloud,The angry exhalation, shut withinA prison of contrary quality,Strives to be free and with the violentEruption through the grossness of that cloud,Makes this noise we hear.Bor.'Tis a fearful noise.D'Am.'Tis a brave noise, and methinksGraces our accomplished project asA peal of ordnance does a triumph. It speaksEncouragement. Now Nature shows thee howIt favoured our performance, to forbearThis noise when we set forth, because it shouldNot terrify my brother's going home,Which would have dashed our purpose,—to forbearThis lightning in our passage lest it shouldHa' warned him o' the pitfall.Then propitious Nature winkedAt our proceedings: now it doth expressHow that forbearance favoured our success.Bor.You have confirmed me. For it follows wellThat Nature, since herself decay doth hate,Should favour those that strengthen their estate.D'Am.Our next endeavour is, since on the falseReport that Charlemont is dead dependsThe fabric of the work, to credit thatWith all the countenance we can.Bor.Faith, sir,Even let his own inheritance, whereofYou have dispossessed him, countenance the act.Spare so much out of that to give him aSolemnity of funeral. 'Twill quitThe cost, and make your apprehension ofHis death appear more confident and true.D'Am.I'll take thy counsel. Now farewell, black Night;Thou beauteous mistress of a murderer.To honour thee that hast accomplished allI'll wear thy colours at his funeral. [Exeunt.

EnterLevidulciamanned[151]byFresco.

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