Slike strani

Leon. My lord, Leandro's gone. Ern. His censure will

Be one with ours.

Fer. Yet shall I publish who Thou art? I shall not die with a calm soul And leave thee in this cloud.


Ros. By no means, sir. The queen.

Queen. Whose service is so forward to our state, That when our pleasure 's known not to proceed, They dare be officious in his sentence? Are We queen, or do we move by your protection? Ern. Madam, the prince

Queen. My lord, you have a queen :
I not suspect his wisdom, sir, but he
Hath no commission here to be a judge;
You were best circumscribe our regal power,
And by yourselves condemn or pardon all,
And we sign to your will. The offence which you
Call treason strikes at us, and we release it.
Let me but see one curl in any brow;
Attend the prisoner hither-Kiss our hand.
Are you so merciless to think this man

Fit for a scaffold ?-You shall, sir, be near us;
And if in this confusion of your fortunes
You can find gratitude and love, despair not:
These men, that now oppose, may find your title
Clear to the kingdom too. Be, sir, collected,
And let us love your arm.

[Exit, supported by FERDINAND.
Ros. What change is here?
Leand. What think you of this, lords?
Rodriq. I dare not think.

Leon. Affronted thus! Oh, my vex'd heart! Ros. I'll follow still; and, if this be no dream, We have 'scaped a brook to meet a greater stream.



Steward. Be patient, madam, you may have your pleasure.

Aret. 'Tis that I came to town for ; I would not Endure again the country conversation To be the lady of six shires! the men, So near the primitive making, they retain A sense of nothing but the earth; their brains And barren heads standing as much in want Of ploughing as their ground: to hear a fellow Make himself merry and his horse with whistling Sellinger's Round; t' observe with what solemnity They keep their wakes, and throw for pewter candlesticks;

How they become the morris, with whose bells They ring all into Whitsun ales, and swear Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the hobby

horse Tire, and the maid-marian, dissolved to a jelly, Be kept for spoon-meat.

Stew. These, with your pardon, are no argument To make the country life appear so hateful, At least to your particular, who enjoy'd A blessing in that calm, would you be pleased To think so, and the pleasure of a kingdom: While your own will commanded what should move Delights, your husband's love and power join'd To give your life more harmony. You lived there Secure and innocent, beloved of all; Praised for your hospitality, and pray'd for: You might be enviëd, but malice knew Not where you dwelt.-I would not prophesy, But leave to your own apprehension What may succeed your change.

Aret. You do imagine,

No doubt, you have talk'd wisely, and confuted London past all defence. Your master should Do well to send you back into the country With title of superintendant bailiff.

Stew. How, madam ?

Aret. Even so, sir.

Stew. I am a gentleman, though now your servant.
Aret. A country gentleman,

By your affection to converse with stubble :
His tenants will advance you wit, and plump it so
With beef and bag pudding-

Stew. You may say your pleasure,

It becomes not me dispute.

Aret. Complain to the lord of the soil, your


Stew. Y'are a woman of an ungovern'd passion, And I pity you.


Born. How now, what's the matter? Angry, sweetheart?

Aret. I am angry with myself,

To be so miserably restrain'd in things Wherein it doth concern your love and honour To see me satisfied.

Born. In what, Aretina,

Dost thou accuse me? have I not obey'd
All thy desires against mine own opinion?
Quitted the country, and removed the hope
Of our return by sale of that fair lordship
We lived in; changed a calm and retire life
For this wild town, composed of noise and charge?
Aret. What charge more than is necessary
For a lady of my birth and education?

Born. I am not ignorant how much nobility Flows in your blood; your kinsmen, great and powerful

I' th' state, but with this lose not your memory
Of being my wife. I shall be studious,
Madam, to give the dignity of your birth
All the best ornaments which become my fortune,
But would not flatter it to ruin both,
And be the fable of the town, to teach
Other men loss of wit by mine, employ'd
To serve your vast expenses.
Aret. Am I then

Brought in the balance so, sir? Born. Though you weigh

Me in a partial scale, my heart is honest,
And must take liberty to think you have
Obey'd no modest counsel to affect,
Nay study, ways of pride and costly ceremony.
Your change of gaudy furniture, and pictures
Of this Italian master and that Dutchman's;
Your mighty looking-glasses, like artillery,
Brought home on engines; the superfluous plate,
Antique and novel; vanities of tires;
Fourscore pound suppers for my lord, your kinsman;
Banquets for t'other lady aunt, and cousins;
And perfumes that exceed all: train of servants,
To stifle us at home and show abroad,

More motley than the French or the Venetian,
About your coach, whose rude postilion
Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers
And tradesmen curse your choking up their stalls,
And common cries pursue your ladyship
For hind'ring o' the market.

Aret. Have you done, sir?

Born. I could accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe And prodigal embroideries, under which Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare Not show their own complexions. Your jewels, Able to burn out the spectator's eyes, And show like bonfires on you by the tapers. Something might here be spared, with safety of Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth Shines from the soul, and draws up just admirers. I could urge something more.

Aret. Pray do; I like

Your homily of thrift.

Born. I could wish, madam, You would not game so much.

Aret. A gamester too?

'Born. But you are not to that repentance yet Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit; You look not through the subtlety of cards And mysteries of dice, nor can you save Charge with the box, buy petticoats and pearls, And keep your family by the precious income. Nor do I wish you should. My poorest servant Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire Purchased beneath my honour. You may play, Not a pastime but a tyranny, and vex Yourself and my estate by 't.

Aret. Good,-proceed.


Born. Another game you have, which consumes Your fame than purse; your revels in the night, Your meetings call'd the Ball, to which appear, As to the court of pleasure, all your gallants And ladies, thither bound by a subpoena Of Venus and small Cupid's high displeasure; "Tis but the Family of Love translated Into a more costly sin. There was a Play on't, And had the poet not been bribed to a modest Expression of your antic gambols in't, Some deeds had been discover'd, and the deeds too In time he may repent and make some blush To see the second part danced on the stage. My thoughts acquit you for dishonouring me By any foul act, but the virtuous know

'Tis not enough to clear ourselves, but the Suspicions of our shame.

Aret. Have you concluded Your lecture?

Born. I have done; and howsoever My language may appear to you, it carries No other than my fair and just intent To your delights, without curb to their fair And modest freedom.

Aret. I'll not be so tedious

In my reply, but without art or elegance
Assure you I still keep my first opinion;
And though you veil your avaricious meaning
With handsome names of modesty, and thrift,
I find you would entrench and wound the liberty
I was born with: were my desires unprivileged
By example, while my judgment thought 'em fit
You ought not oppose; but when the practice
And tract of every honourable lady
Authorise me, I take it great injustice

To have my pleasures circumscribed and taught me. A narrow-minded husband is a thief

To his own fame, and his preferment too;

He shuts his parts and fortunes from the world, While from the popular vote and knowledge men Rise to employment in the state.

Born. I have

No great ambition to buy preferment At so dear a rate.

Aret. Nor I to sell my honour

By living poor and sparingly. I was not

Bred in that ebb of fortune, and my fate

Shall not compel me to 't.

Born. I know not, madam,

But you pursue these ways.
Aret. What ways?

Born. In the strict sense of honesty I dare Make oath they are innocent.

Aret. Do not divert,

By busy troubling of your brain, those thoughts That should preserve them.

Born. How was that?

Aret. 'Tis English.

Born. But carries some unkind sense.

Enter Steward.

Aret. What's your news, sir?
Stew. Madam, two gentlemen.

Aret. What gentlemen; have they no names?
Stew. They are-

The gentleman with his own head of hair, Whom you commended for his horsemanship In Hyde Park, and becoming [so] the saddle, The other day.

Aret. What circumstance is this

To know him by?

Stew. His name 's at my tongue's endHe liked the fashion of your pearl chain, madam, And borrow'd it for his jeweller to take A copy by.

Born. What cheating gallant's this?

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Aret. What news abroad? You hold precious intelligence.

Lit. All tongues are so much busy with your praise,
They have not time to frame other discourse.
Wilt please you, madam, taste a sugar-plum?
Born. What does the goldsmith think the pearl
is worth

You borrow'd of my lady?
Kick. 'Tis a rich one.

Born. She has many other toys, whose fashion you
Will like extremely. You have no intention
To buy any of her jewels?

Kick. Understand me.

Born. You had rather sell perhaps? But leaving

I hope you'll dine with us?


Kick. I came on purpose.

Aret. And where were you last night?

Kick. I, madam? where

I slept not it had been sin, where so much
Delight and beauty was to keep me waiting.
There is a lady, madam, will be worth
Your free society; my conversation
Ne'er knew so elegant and brave a soul,
With most incomparable flesh and blood:
So spirited, so courtly, speaks the languages,
Sings, dances, plays o' the lute to admiration;
Is fair, and paints not; games too, keeps a table,
And talks most witty satire; has a wit

Of a clean Mercury.

Lit. Is she married?

Kick. No.

Aret. A virgin?

Kick. Neither.

Lit. What, a widow? Something

Of this wide commendation might have been Excused this such a prodigy.

Kick. Repent,

Before I name her. She did never see
Yet full sixteen; an age in the opinion
Of wise men not contemptible. She has
Mourn'd out her year too for the honest knight
That had compassion of her youth and died
So timely. Such a widow is not common;
And now she shines [abroad] more fresh and
Than any natural virgin.

Aret. What's her name?

Kick. She was christen'd Celestina; by her husband

The lady Belamour. This ring was hers.
Born. You borrow'd it to copy out the posy?

Kick. Are they not pretty rubies? 'Twas a grace She was pleased to show me, that I might have one Made of the [self] same fashion, for I love All pretty forms.

Aret. And is she glorious?

Kick. She is full of jewels, madam; but I am Most taken with the bravery of her mind, Although her garments have all grace and ornament. Aret. You have been high in praises.

Kick. I come short;

No flattery can reach her.

Born. Now my lady


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Lit. And will you kiss the ladies? [beautyBorn. And sing, and dance.—I long to see this I would fain lose an hundred pounds at dice nowThou shalt have another gown and petticoat To-morrow-Will you sell my running horses?We have no Greek wine in the house, I think; Pray send one of our footmen to the merchant, And throw the hogshead of March beer into The kennel, to make room for sack and claret. What think you to be drunk yet before dinner? We will have constant music, and maintain Them and their fiddles in fantastic liveriesI'll tune my voice to catches-I must have My dining-room enlarged t' invite ambassadors— We'll feast the parish in the fields, and teach The military men new discipline, Who shall charge all their [great] artillery With oranges and lemons, boy, to play All dinner upon our capons.

Kick. He's exalted.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Madam, the painter. Aret. I am to sit this morning.

Born. I will do anything to please my lady, Let that suffice, and kiss o' the same condition. I am converted, do not you dispute, But patiently allow the miracle.

Aret. I am glad to hear you sit in so good tune.


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Cel. Another solecism. O fie! This fellow will bring me to a consumption With fretting at his ignorance. Some lady Had rather never pray than go to church in 't. The nails not double-gilt !-to market with it! "Twill hackney out to Mile End, or convey Your city tumblers to be drunk with cream And prunes at Islington.

Stew. Good madam, hear me.

Cel. I'll rather be beholding to my aunt, The countess, for her mourning coach, than be Disparaged so. Shall any juggling tradesman Be at charge to shoe his running horse with gold, And shall my coach-nails be but single-gilt? How dare these knaves abuse me so!

Stew. Vouchsafe

To hear me speak.

Cel. Is my sedan yet finish'd As I gave charge?

Stew. Yes, madam, it is finish'd, But without tilting plumes at the four corners; The scarlet's pure, but not embroider'd.

Cel. What mischief were it to your conscience Were my coach lined with tissue, and my harness Cover'd with needlework? if my sedan Had all the story of the prodigal

Embroider'd with pearl ?

Stew. Alas, good madam,

I know 'tis your own cost; I'm but your steward,
And would discharge my duty the best way.
You have been pleased to hear me, 'tis not for
My profit that I manage your estate
And save expense, but for your honour, madam.
Cel. How, sir, my honour?

Stew. Though you hear it not,

Men's tongues are liberal in your character Since you began to live thus high. I know Your fame is precious to you.

Cel. I were best

Make you my governor! Audacious varlet,
How dare you interpose your doting counsel ?
Mind your affairs with more obedience,
Or I shall ease you of an office, sir.

Must I be limited to please your honour,
Or for the vulgar breath confine my pleasures?
I will pursue 'em in what shapes I fancy
Here and abroad. My entertainments shall
Be oft'ner, and more rich. Who shall control me?
I live i'the Strand, whither few ladies come
To live and purchase more than fame-I will
Be hospitable then, and spare no cost
That may engage all generous report
To trumpet forth my bounty and my bravery
Till the court envy and remove-I'll have
My house the academy of wits, who shall,
Exalt [their genius] with rich sack and sturgeon,
Write panegyrics of my feasts, and praise
The method of my witty superfluities—

The horses shall be taught, with frequent waiting
Upon my gates, to stop in their career
Toward Charing Cross, spite of the coachman's
And not a tilter but shall strike his plume
When he sails by my window-My balcony
Shall be the courtiers' idol, and more gazed at
Than all the pageantry at Temple Bar
By country clients.

Stew. Sure my lady 's mad.

Cel. Take that for your ill manners. [Strikes him. Stew. Thank you, madam :

I would there were less quicksilver in your fingers. [Exit.

Cel. There's more than simple honesty in a


Required to his full duty. None should dare
But with a look, much less a saucy language,
Check at their mistress's pleasure. I'm resolved
To pay for some delight, my estate will bear it;
I'll rein it shorter when I please.

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