ROCHFORT

Pray you sir, no more. I do, and much lament the sudden fallen Of his brave house, It is young Charloyes. Son to the Ma shall, from whom he inherits His am and virtues only. Yes, to the shame of this ungrateful State That such a Master in the art of war, So noble, and so highly meriting, From this forgetful Country, hold, for want Of means to satisfy his creditors, The sums he took up for the general good, Meet with and end so infamous. My wish bring comfort to you. Good morrow Colonel. I may not fit to hear this. My thanks For this great favour shall prevent your trouble. The honourable trust that was imposed Upon my weakness, since you witness for me, It was not ill discharged, I will not mention, N r now, if age had not deprived me of The little strength I had to gouer e well, The Province that I under took, forsake it. That may not be, nor can your Lordship's goodness, Since your employments have conse ed upon me Sum icient wealth, deny the use of it, And though old age, when one oot's in the graven. In many, when all humo S else are spent Feeds no affection in them, but desire To add height to the mount ine of their riches: In me it is not so, I rest content With the honours, and estate I now possess, And that I may have liberty to use, What Heaven still bl ssing my poor industry, Hath made me Master of: I pray the Court To ease me of my burden, that I may Employ the small remainder of my life, In living well, and learning how to die so, I embrace it, As and assurance of their favour to me, And name my Lord Nouall. But there are suitors wait here, and their uses May be of more necessity to be herd, And therefore wish that mine may be deferred, And theirs have hearing. Good counsel were it, a praise worthy deed. Ex. Officers with Rome. Be advised, young Lord, And well con iderate, you throw away Your liberty, and joys of life together: Your bounty is employed upon a subject That is not sensible of it, with which, wise man Never abused his goodness; the great virtues Of your dead father vindicate themselves, From these men's malice, and break open the prison, Though it contain his body. A brave resolution rather, Worthy a better fortune, but however It is not now to be disputed, therefore To my own cause. Already I have found Your Lordship's bountiful in your favours to me, And that should teach my modesty to end here And press your loves no further. You encourage a bold Petitioner, and it's not fit Your favours should be lost. Beside , as been A custom many years, at the surrendering The place I now give up, to grant the President One boon, that parted with it. And to confirm Your grace towards me, against all such as may Detract my actions, and life hereafter, I now prefer it to you. I then desire the liberty of R mont, And that my Lord Nouall whose private wrong Was equal to the injury that was done To the dignity of the Court, will pardon it, And now sign his enlargement. Am I denied then—my first and last request I thank your Lordship's. I follow you— Baumont. You are a scholar, Baumont, And can search deeper into the intents of men, Then those that are less knowing—How appeared The piety and brave behaviour of Young Charloyes to you? Fie! he was faulty—what present money have I? It's well I am strangely taken with this Charaloyes ; Methinks, from his example, the whole age Should learn to be good, and continue so. Virtue works strangely with us: and his goodness Rising above his fortune, seems to me Princelike, to will, not ask a courtesy. Exeunt. It's well. My Lord Nouall, this is a virtue in you, So early up and ready before noon, That are the map of dressing through all France. 'Tis well and courtly; you must give me leave, I have some private conference with my daughter, Pray use my garden, you shall dine with me. Why how now Beaumelle, thou lookest not well. Th'art sad of late, come cheer thee, I have found A wholesome remedy for these maiden fits, A goodly Oak whereon to twist my vine, Till her fair branches grow up to the stars. Be near at hand, success crown my intent, My business fills my little time so full, I canno stand to talk: I know, thy duty Is handmaid to my will, especially When it presents nothing but good and fit. Yes. Sir. O be temperate, Sir, though I would persuade, I'll not constrain Each men opinion freely is his own, Concerning any thing or any body, Be it right or wrong, 'tis at the Judges peril. Pay'em those sums upon the table, take Their full releases: stay, I want a witness: Let me entreat you Colonel, to walk in, And stand but by, to see this money paid, It does concern you and your friends, it was The better cause you were sen for, though said otherwise. The deed shall make this my request more plain. Worthiest Sir, Enter Charol is. You are most welcome: fie, no more of this: You have oh t-wept a woman, noble C arolois. No man but has, or must bury a father. They do not. Sweet and gentle nature, How silk n is this well comparatively To other men! I have a suit to you Sir, What? Nothing is Q ickly granted. Sir, have you any suit to me? Ill grant You some thing, any thing. Sir, the love I boar your father, and the worth I see in you, so much resembling his, Made me to u send for you. And tender here Draws a rtayne What ver you will take, gold, Jewels, both, All, to supply your wants, and free your self. Where heavenly virtue in high blooded veins Is lodged, and Can agree, men should kne le down, Adore, and sacrifice all that they hau ; And well they may, it is so seldom seen. Put off your wonder, and here freely take Or send your servants. Nor, Sir, shall you use In ought of this, a poor men fee, or bribe, Unjustly taken of the rich, but what's Directly go ten, and yet by the Law. Mock? thunder strike me then. Here is your friend, Enfranchist ere you spoke. I give him you, And Charalois. I give you to your friend As free a man as he; your father's debts Are taken off. Call in my daughter: still I have a suit to you. Would you requite me. Baum. Exit. Nay, would you make me now your debtor, Sir. This is my only child: what she appears, Enter Baum Your Lordship well may see her education, Beau. Foe lowes not any: for her mind, I know it To be far fairer then her shape, and hope It will continue so: if now her birth Be not too mean for Charolois, take her This virgin by the hand, and call her wife, Indowd with all my Fortune's: bless me so. Requite me thus, and make me happier, In joining my poor empty name to yours, Then if my state were multiplied ten fold. You met my wishes, Gentlemen. No more, my glory, come, let's in and hasten This celebration. All fair bliss upon it. Some one seek for me, As soon as he returns. Your friend Romont: would you ought with me? The performance Will make this protestation worth my thanks. This in my daughter? do not wrong her. Does your fine story begin from this? So far that if you trouble me again With a report Like this, I shall not only Judge you malicious in your disposition, But study to repent what I have done To such a nature. And for you, daughter, off with this, off with it: I have that confidence in your goodness, I, That I will not consent to have you live Like to a Recluse in a cloister: go Call in the gallants, let them make you merry, Use all fit liberty. Sir, if you please To bear your self as fits a Gentleman, The house is at your service: but I not, Though you seek company else where, your absenc Will not be much lamented— Exit Rochfort, Angels guard me, To what strange Tragedy does this destruction Serve for a Prologue? Enter Charalois, with Nouals body. Beaumelle, Bau mont. It is granted, speak—you shall have justice. With whom? Oh my heart. Yet remember He is a man, and cannot put off nature. What answer makes the prisoner? Heaven take mercy Upon your soul them it must leave your body. Now free mine eyes, I dare unmoved look on her. And fortify my sentence, with strong reasons. Since that the politic law provides that servants, To whose care we commit our goods shall die, If they abuse oh r trust: what can you look for, To whose charge this most hopeful Lord gave up All he received from his brave Ancestors, Or he could leave to his posterity? His Honour, wicked woman, in whose safety All this life's joys, and comforts were locked up, With thy lust, a thief hath now stolen from him, And therefore— Never, Sir. The wrong that's done to the chaste married bed, Repentant tears can never expiate, And be assured, to pardon such a sin, S and offence as great as to commit it. Nor she hope it. Nor can she wish to live no sun shall rise, But ere it set, shall show her ugly lust In a new shape, and every on more horrid: Nay, even those prayers, which with such humble fervor She seems to send up yonder, are beat back, And all suits, which her penitence can proffer, As soon as made, are with contempt thrown Off all the courts of mercy. He kills her. Is she dead then? And you have killed her? But I pronounced it As a Judge only, and friend to justice, And z alous in defence of your wronged honour, Broke all the ties of nature and cast off The love and soft affection of a father. I in your cause, put on a Scam let robe Of read died cruelty, but in return, You have advanced for me no flag of mercy: I looked on you, as a wronged husband, but You closed your eyes against me, as a father. Oh Beaumelle, my daughter. Keep from me—could not one good thought rise up, To tell you that she was my ages comfort, Begotten by a weak man, and born a woman, And could not therefore, but partake of frailty? Or wherefore did not thankfulness step forth, To urge my many merits, which I may Object unto you, since you prove ungrateful, Flinty-hearted Charaloys ? No: it gives me eyes, To pierce the heart of design against me. find it now, it was may state was aimed at, A nobler match was sought for, and the hours I lived, grew tedious to you: my compassion Towards you hath rendered me most miserable, And foolish charity undone my self: But ther's a Heaven above, from whose joust wreak No mists of policy can hide offenders. Enter Nouall S . with Officers. Call it a fitter name—Justice for innocent blood. But look on him, And you shall find, for still methinks I do, Though gilded hath died him black, something good in him, That may perhaps work with a wiser man Then I have been, again to set him free And give him all he has. In no act of my life I have de earned This injury from the court, that any here Should hus uncivilly usurp on what Is proper to me only. Angels themselves must break Baumont, that pro mice Beyond the strength and patience of Angels. But I have done, my good Lord, pardon me A weak old man, and pray add to that A miserable father, yet be careful That your compassion of my age, nor his, Move you to any thing, that may disbecome The pl ce on which you fit The motion honest. It's most true. I would not willing y blend my last words With and untruth. Not mine, I am not of the world, if it can prosper, (And yet being justly God, I'll not examine Why it should be so fatal) do you bestow it On pious uses. I'll go seek a graven. And yet for proof, I die in peace, your pardon I ask, and as you grant it me, may Heaven Your conscience, and these Judges free you from Exit Roch. What you are charged with. So farewell for ever.— Keeper, this prisoner I will see forth coming Upon my word— Fit down good Colonel. Exit keeper. Why I did wish you hither, noble sir, Is to advise you from this iron carriage, Which, so affected, Romont, you wear, To pity and to c un ell ye submit With expedition to the great Nouall : Recant your stern contempt, and slight neglect Of the whole Court, and him, and opportunity, Or you will undergo a heavy censure In public very shortly. You say you are sorry for him: A grief in which I must not have a partner It's I alone am sorry, that I raised The building of my life for seventy years Upon so sure a ground, that all the vices P actis'd to ruin man, though brought against me, Could n u r undermine, and no way left To send these grey hairs to the graven with sorrow. Virtue than was my patroness, betrayed me: For entering, nay, possessing this young man, It lent him such a powerful Majesty To grace what ere he undertook, that freely I gave my self up with my liberty, To be at his disposing; had his pe son, Lo ely I must confess, or far feigned valour, Or any other seeming good, that yet Holds a near neighbourhood, with ill wrought on me, I might have born it better: but when goodness And piety it self in her best figure Were bribed to my destruction, can you blame me, Though I forget to suffer Like a man, Or rather act a woman? Be well advised And ere you say adultress again, Her fame depending on it, be most sure That she is one. Your sentence life or death.