FERNANDO

My Noble Lord Roseilli! Sir, I know You are so well acquainted with your own, You needs not flatter mine; trust me, my Lord, He be a suitor for you. Troth, Sir, I'll freely speak as I have found: In Spain you loose experience; it's a Climate To hight to nourish Arts; the Nation proud, And in their pride unsociable; the Court More pliable to glorify it self Then do a stranger grace; if you intend To traffic Like a Merchant, 'twere a place Might better much your Trade; but as for me, I soon took surfeit on it. France I more praise and love; you are (my Lord) Your self for horsemanship much famed; and there You shall have many proofs to show your skill, The French are passing Courtly, ripe of wit, Kind, but extreme dissemblers; you shall have A Frenchman ducking lower than your knee, At the instant mocking even your very shoo-ties: To give the Country endue, it is on earth A Paradise; and if you can neglect Your own appropriaments, but praising that In others, wherein you excel yourself, You shall be much beloved there. England. I'll tell you what I found there; men as neat, As Courtly as the French, but in Condition Quite opposite: Put case that you (my Lord) Could be more rare on horseback than you are, If there (as there are many) one excelled You in your Art, as much as you do others, Yet will the English think, their own is nothing Compared with you a stranger; in their habits They are not more fantastic than uncertain: In short, their fare abundance; manhood, beauty, No Nation can disparage but it self. And whither are you bent? No, my Lord, you must not; I have yet some private Conference To impart unto you for your good: at night I'll meet you at my Lord Petruchio's house, Till then be secret. Uncle, I'll do my best; mean time pray tell me Whose mediation wrought the Marriage Betwixt the Duke and Duchess? who was agent? She is fair. If when I should choose, Beauty and Virtue were the Fee proposed, I should not pass for parentage. Let's break off talk: if ever, now Good Angel of my soul protect my truth. Sir, if a man so low in rank, may hope By loyal duty, and devoted zeal, To hold a Correspondence in friendship With one so mighty as the Duke of Pavy, My uttermost ambition is to climb To those deserts may give the style of servant. If credit may be given to a face, My Lord, I'll undertake on her behalf; Her words are trusty Heralds to her mind. To me, Sir? Good Sir, you bind me to you: is this all? As how? Without delays, which way? Sure you are strangely out of tune, Sir. I understand you, and to thank your care Will study to requite it; and I vow She never shall have notice of your news By me, or by my means. And, worthy Sir, Let me alike enjoin you not to spaake A word of that I understand her love; And as for me, my word shall be your surety I'll not as much as give her cause to think I ever herd it. You shall not, indeed Sir, I am still your friend, And will prove so; for the present I am forced To attend the Duke, good hours befall you, I must leave you. My Lord Ferentes, I should change some words Of consequence with you; but since I am, For this time, busied in more serious thoughts, I'll pick some fitter opportunity. Traitor to friendship, whither shall I run, That lost to reason cannot sway the float Of the unruly faction in my blood? The Duchess, o the Duchess! in her smiles Are all my joys abstracted; death to my thoughts, My other plague comes to me. Madam, no; I rather chosen this leisure to admire The glories of this little world, the Court, Where Like so many stars on several thrones, Beauty and greatness shine in proper Orbs, Sweet matter for my meditation. No wonders, Lady, Like these I see at home. Your pardon, if my tongue (the voice of truth) Report but what is warranted by sighed. Look in your glass, and you shall see A miracle. Your Beauty, So far above all beauty's else abroad, As you are in your own, superlative. Would that, Or any thing, that I could challenge mine, Were but of valve to express how much I serve in love the sister of my Prince. For you in him, and much for him in you. I must acknowledge, Madam, I observe In your affects a thing to me most strange, Which makes me so much honour you the more. Gladly, Lady: I see how opposite to youth and custom You S to before you in your Tableture Of your remembrance, the becoming griefs Of a most loyal Lady; for the lose Of so renowned a Prince as was your Lord. Of him! I know it is a needless task in me To set him forth in his deserved praise, You better can record it; For you find How much more he exceeded other men In most Heroic virtues of account, So much more was your lose in losing him. Of him! his praise should be a field too large, Too spacious, for so mean and Orator As I, to range in. Madam. Me thought you said, he charged you Not to imparrit but to him you loved As dearly as you loved him. Oh then far be it, my unhallowed hand With any rude intrusion should unveil A Testament enacted by the dead. What means the virtuous Marquess? To love? Madam, 'twere dulness, passed the ignorance Of common block heads, not to understand Whereto this favour tends; and it's a fortune So much above my Fate, that I could wish No greater happiness on earth; but know, Long since, I vowed to live a single life. I said I made a vow. Blessed deliverance! It's my duty, Madam, To be commanded. Swell not unruly thoughts: Madam, the motion you propose, proceeds From the true touch of goodness; it's a plea Wherein my tongue and knee shall jointly strive To beg his Highness for Roseillie's cause: Your judgement rightly speaks him; there is not In any Court of Christendom, a man For quality or trust more absolute. O had I India's gold, I'de give it all to exchange one private word, one minutes breath With this heart-wounding beauty. None that I know. I have not seen His practice, since my coming back. I hear he was commanded from the Court. Yes, Uncle, yes: Thus bodies walk unsold; mine eyes but follows My heart entombed in yonder goodly shrine: Life without her, is but death's subtle snares, And I am but a Coffin to my cares. Madam. Please but to hear The story of a Castaway in love; And o let not the passage of a jest Make slight a sadder subject, who hath placed All happiness in your diviner eyes. The time! yet hear me speak, For I must speak or burst: I have a soul So anchored down with cares in seas of woe, That passion, and the vows I owe to you, Have changed me to a lean Anatomy, Sweet Princess of my life— Yet as you honour virtue, do not freeze My Hope's to more discomfort, then as yet My fears suggest; no beauty so adorns The composition of a well-built mind, As pity: hear me out. Gone! o my sorrows! how am I undone? Not speak again? no, no, in her chased breast Virtue and resolution have discharged All female weakness: I have sued and sued, Kneeled, wept, and begged; but tears, and vows, and words, Move her no more then summer-winds a rock: I must resolve to check this rage of blood, And will; she is all ycy to my fires, Yet even that ye inflames in me desires. Without delay Prapare your self, and meet at Courtanon, Some half hour hence; and Cupid bless your joy, No more; away: loves rage is yet unknown, In his (aye me) too well, I feel my own: So, now I am alone, now let me think; She is the Duchess; say she be: A Creature Sowed up in painted cloth, might so be styled, That's but a name; she's married too, she is, And therefore better might distinguish love: She's young, and fair; why, Madam, that's the bait Invites me more to hope; she's the Dukes wife; Who knows not this? she's bosomed to my friend: There, there, I am quite lost: will not be wone; Still worse and worse; abhors to hear me speak: Eternal mischief, I must urge no more: For were I not beleapred in my soul, Here were enough to quench the flames of hell. What then? pish, I must not speak, I'll write. Come then, sad Secretary to my plaints, Plead thou my faith, for words are turned to sighs. What says this paper?— he reads to himself. You're welcome, Sir, I thank you Who's there? I cry you merey, D'auolos, I took you for another, pray excuse me; What is't you bear there? I care not much for pictures: but whose are they? Would, D'auolos, the Duchesses? You told me, master Secretary, once, You owed me love. 'Twere rudeness to be suitor for a sighed, Yet trust me, Sir, I'll be all secret. A very pretty Picture; But, kind Signior, to whose use is it? Pray Sir, the other? A hair? Lip! Love! heart. O heavens! You needs not praise it, Sir, it self is praise. How near had I forgotten my self?—I thank you. It's such a picture as might well become The shrine of some feigned Venus; I am dazeld With looking on't:—pray Sir convey it hencc. No, gentle Sir: I'm lost beyond my senses. D'ee hear Sir, good where dwells the picture maker? You say enough, my thanks t'ee. Were that picture But rated at my Lordship, 'twere too cheap. I fear I spoke or did I know not what, All sense of providence was in mine eye. I'll take this time: Good hour, my Lords, to both. Is his Highness preparing to hunt? O, Sir, let me beseech you to speak in your own mother tongue—two days absence—well—my Lord Maurucio, I have a suit t'ee. That you will accept from me a very choice token of my love, will you grant it? What is't? Why it's, my Lord, a Fool. As very a Fool As your Lordship is—hopeful to see in any time of your life. Very rare ones: You shall not hear him speak one wise word in a months converse; passing temperate of diet, for keep him from meat four and twenty hours, and he will fast a whole day and a night together: unless you urge him to swear, there sell dome comes and oath from his mouth: and of a Fool, my Lord, to tell ye the plain truth, had'a but half as much wit as you, my Lord, he would be in short time three quar ters as arrant wise as your Lordship. A very harmless Idiot, And as you could wish, look where he comes. Here, my Lord, I freely give you the Fool, pray use him well for my sake. Uncle, the Duke I hear prepares to hunt: Let's in and wait. Farewell Maurucio. — I shall bewray too much my ignorance In striving with your Highness; it's a game I loose at still, by oversight. I must not loose advantage of the game: Madam, your Queen is lost. What Madam? Forgive me, let my knees for ever stick Nailed to the ground, as earthy as my fears; Ever I arise, to partly away so cursed In my unbounded anguish, as the rage Of flame's, beyond all Utterance of words, Devour me; lightened by your sacred eyes. To lay before your feet In lowest vassalage, the bleeding heart That sighs the tender of a suit disdained. Great Lady pity me, my youth, my wounds, And do not think, that I have culled this time From motions swiftest measure, to unclasp The book of lust; if purity of love Have residenee in virtues quest; lo here, Bent lower in my heart than on my knee, I beg compassion to a love, as chased As softness of desire can intimate. Keep in Bright Angel, that severer breath, to cool That heat of cruelty, which sways the Temple Of your too stony breast; you cannot urge One reason to rebuke my trembling plea, Which I have not, with many nights expense, Examined; but, Oh Madam, still I find No Physic strong to cure a tottur'd mind, But freedom from the torture it sustains. Stay, go not hence in choler, blessed woman! Y'haue schooled me, lend me hearing; though the float Of infinite desires swell to a tide Too high so soon to ebb, yet by this hand, This glorious gracious hand of yours— I swear, Henceforth I never will as in word, In letter, or in sillable, presume To make a repetition of my grief Good night t'ee: if when I am dead you rip This Coffin of my heart, there shall you read With constant eyes, what now my tongue defines, Biancha's name carved out in bloody lines. For ever, Lady, now good night. Who calls me? Would! who is't? Madam, the Duchess? Is't possible, it's you? Why! to crown joys, And make me master of my best desires. O Madam— Perpetual happiness! Beyond imagination. What d'ee mean? How madam, how? Pish, do you come to try me? tell me, first, Will you but grant a kiss? O me—Come, come, how many women pray Were ever herd or read of, granted love, And did as you protest you will? I must believe you, yet I hope anon, When you are parted from me, you will say I was a good cold easy-spirited man: Nay, laugh at my simplicity; say, will you? You have prevailed, and heaven forbid that Should by a want on appetite profane This sacred Temple; it's enough for me You'll please to call me servant. Enough; I'll master passion, and triumph In being conquered; adding to it this, In you my love, as it begun, shall end. This kiss,—best life good rest. Your most faithful servant. My Lord, in honour to the Court of Pavy, I'll join with you: Ferentes, not long since, I saw in Bruxils, at my being there, The Duke of Brabant welcome the Archbishop Of Mainz with rare conceit, even on a sudden Performed by Knights and Ladies of his Court, In nature of and Antic; which, me thought, (For that I never before saw women Antics) Was for the newness strange, and much commended. I'll undertake it, if the Ladies please To exercise in person only that; And we must have a Fool, or such and one As can with Art well act him. Best of all, Madam; then nothing wants: You must make one, Ferentes. Madam. Not for the world. Ferentes, take Maurucio in with you He must be one in Actium, I'll stay the Fool: And follow instantly. M , Cooze; by all the joys I wish to taste, She is as far beneath thy thought, as I In soul above her malice. Pish; should he or hell Affront me in the passage of my , I'ld crush them into Atomies. Sir, the Abbot is now upon arri all, all your servants Attend your presence. I for yond Gentlewoman, Sir. And, Royal Sir, since Julia and Colona; Chief Actors in Ferentes tragic end, Were, through their Ladies mediation, Freed by your gracious pardon; I, in pity. Tendered this widows friendless misery; For whose reprieve I shall in humblest duty Be ever thankful. Here, Maurucio, long live a happy couple. It's a strange sentence. Madam, you do nobly; And that's for me, Maurucio. Madam. Not I, in troth. What Madam? jealous? Can see, Madam! by this light I'll pledge my soul against a useless rush. Madam, it's true; From them I have, but from their virtues never. My aim? Injurious woman, I defy thy lust: It's not your subtle sifting shall creep Into the secrets of a heart unsoiled: You are my Princes sister, else your malice Had railed it self to death; but as for me, Be record all my fate, I do detest Your fury or affection.—Judge the rest. The Duke is horst for Lucam: how now Cooze, How prosper you in love? Undone I in what? Speaking of me? Let him know it; yet I vow She is as loyal in her plighted faith, As is the Sun in heaven: but put case She were not; and the Duke did know she were not, This Sword lift up, and guided by this Arm, Shall guard her from and armed troop of Fiends, And all the earth beside. Dambe him,—he shall feel— But peace, who comes? Where is she? Let slaves in mind be servile to their fears, Our heart is high in-starr'd in brighter Spheres. Lady of all, what I am, as before, To survive you, or I will see you first, Or widowed or buried: if the last, By all the comfort I can wish to taste By your fair eyes, that sepulcher that holds Your Coffin, shall encoffin me alive: I sign it with this seal.——— Use that force, And make me perjured; for while your lips Are made the book, it is a sport to swear, And glory to forswear. What noise is that, I herd one cry. Yes; Th'art Pavy's Duke, Dressed Like a hangman: see, I am unarmed, Yet do not fear thee; though the Coward doubt Of what I could have done, hath made thee steal Advantage of this time, yet Duke I dare Thy worst, for murder sits upon thy cheeks: Too't man. Unhand me. Duke, do not shame thy manhood to lay hands On that most innocent Lady. Let me die accursed, If ever, through the progress of my life. I did as much as reap the benefit Of any favour from her, save a kiss: A better woman never blessed the earth. Duke I fear thee not: But first I charge thee, as thou art a Prince, Tell me, how hast thou used thy Duchess? Not dead? Stay, I yield my weapon up:— Here, here's my bosom; as thou ar a Duke, Dost honour goodness, if the changed st Biancha Be murdered, murder me. Do but hear me first, Unfortunate Caraffa; thou hast butchered And Innocent, a wife as free from lust As any terms of Art can Deify. By yonder starry roof it's true. Oh Duke! Couldst thou rear up another world Like this, Another Like to that, and more, or more, Herein thou art most wretched; all the wealth Of all those world's could not redeem the lose Of such a spotless wife: glorious Biancha, Reign in the triumph of thy martyrdom, Earth was unworthy of thee. I dare: look here,—— It's not the fear of death does prompt my tongue, For I would wish to die; and thou shalt know, Poor miserabl Duke, since she is dead, I'll hold all life a hell. As virtues self is good, Hold, Be gentler to thy self. Forbear; what art thou that dost rudely press Into the confines of forsaken-graves? Has death no privilege? Comest thou, Caraffa, To practice yet a rape upon the dead? Inhumane Tyrant, Whats'euer thou intendest, know this place Is pointed out for my inheritance: Here lies the monument of all my Hope's. Had eager Lust intrunk'd my conquered soul, I had not buried living joys in death: Go, Revel in thy palace, and be proud To boast thy famous murders: let thy smooth Low-fawning parasites renown thy Act: Thou comest not here. Of death? poor Duke: Why that's the aim I shoot at: it's not threats, (Ma her thy power, of the spite of hell) Shall rend that honour: let life-hugging slaves, Whose hands imbrued in Butcheries Like thine, Shake terror to their souls, be loath to die: See, I am clothed in robes that fit the graven: I pity thy defiance. Yes, let they, here's my shield Here's health to Victory.— Now do thy worst. Ferewell Duke, once I have outstripped thy plots: Not all the cunning Antidotes of Art Can warrant me twelve minutes of my life: It works, it works already, bravely, bravely.— Now, now I feel it tear each several joint: Oh royal poison? trusty friend? split, split Both heart and gall asunder; excellent bane! Roseilli love my memory; well searched out Swift nimble venom, torture every vein. I, come Biancha, —cruel torment feast, Feast on, do; Duke farewell. Thus I—hight flames Conclude my Love—and seal it in my bosom, o— If ever I unshrined The Altar of her purity, or tasted More of her love, then what without control Or blame, a brother from a sister might, Rack me to Atomies: I must confess I have too much abused thee; did exceed In lawless Courtship (it's too true) I did: But by the honour which I owe to goodness, For any actual folly I am free. How's that? my Reputation? lay aside Superfluous Ceremony; speak, what is't? How thrive your Hope's now, Cozen?