On whose most sovereign Æsculapian hand, Fame, with her richest miracles, attends; Be fortunate, as ever heretofore, That we may quite thee both with gold and honour, And by thy happy means have power to make My son and his much injured love amends, Whose well-proportion'd choice we now applaud, And bless all those that ever further'd it. Where is your discreet usher, my good lord, The special furtherer of this equal match? Ju. Brought after by a couple of your guard. Al. Let him be fetch'd, that we may do him grace. Po. I'll fetch him, my lord; away, you must not go. Oh, here he comes. Oh, master Usher, I am sorry for you: you must presently be chopped in pieces. Ba. Woe to that wicked prince that e'er twixt you two; did not you think so, my Lord Vincentio? Lord uncle, did not I say at first of the duke: " Will his antiquity never leave his iniquity?" St. Go to, too much of this; but ask this lord if he did like it. Po. Who, my Lord Medice? St. Lord Stinkard, man, his name is. Ask him. Lord Stinkard, did you like the match? Say. Po. My Lord Stinkard, did you like the match betwixt the duke and my Lady Margaret? Me. Presumptuous sycophant! I will have thy life. Al. Unworthy lord, put up thirst'st thou more blood? Thy life is fittest to be call'd in question For thy most murtherous cowardice on my son; Thy forwardness to every cruelty St. Noblesse, my lord? set by your princely favour That gave the lustre to his painted state, Who ever view'd him but with deep contempt, As reading vileness in his very looks? And if he prove not son of some base drudge, Trimm'd up by Fortune, being disposed to jest And dally with your state, then that good angel That by divine relation spake in me, Foretelling these foul dangers to your son, And without notice brought this reverend man To rescue him from death, now fails my tongue, And I'll confess I do him open wrong. Me. And so thou dost; and I return all note Of infamy or baseness on thy throat: St. My liege, with all desert, even now His life was duly forfeit, for the death Which in these barbarous wounds he sought your son; Vouchsafe me then his life, in my friend's right, For many ways I know he merits death; Which (if you grant) will instantly appear, And that I feel with some rare miracle. Al. His life is thine, Lord Strozza; give him death. Me. What, my lord, Will your grace cast away an innocent life? St. Villain, thou liest; thou guilty art of death A hundred ways, which now I'll execute. Me. Recall your word, my lord. Al. Not for the world. St. Oh, my dear liege, but that my spirit prophetic Hath inward feeling of such sins in him I would, before I took his life, give leave Of his most impious state; but life and soul ness. Die therefore, monster. Vi. Oh, be not so uncharitable, sweet friend, Let him confess his sins, and ask heaven pardon. St. He must not, princely friend; it is heaven's justice To plague his life and soul, and here's heaven's justice. Me. Oh, save my life, my lord. Let him confess the sins that heaven hath told you, And ask forgiveness. Me. Let me, good my lord, And I'll confess what you accuse me of; Wonders indeed, and full of damn'd deserts. St. I know it, and I must not let thee live To ask forgiveness. Al. But you shall, my lord, Or I will take his life out of your hand. Me. No, my noble lord, St. Mendice? see, At first a mighty scandal done to honour. Of what country art thou? Me. Of no country I, But born upon the seas, my mother passing "Twixt Zant and Venice. St. Where wert thou christen'd? A captain of the gipsies entertain'd me, And many years I lived a loose life with them. At last I was so favour'd, that they made me The king of gipsies; and being told my fortune By an old sorceress that I should be great In some great Prince's love, I took the treasure Which all our company of gipsies had I did to noblesse, was in this high Court. Al. Never was heard so strange a counterfeit. St. Didst thou not cause me to be shot in hunting? Me. I did, my lord; for which, for heaven's love, pardon. St. Now let him live, my lord; his blood's least drop Would stain your Court, more than the sea could cleanse; His soul's too foul to expiate with death. Al. Hence then; be ever banish'd from my rule, And live a monster, loathed of all the world. Po. I'll get boys and bait him out a' th' Court, my lord. Al. Do so, I pray thee; rid me of his sight. Po. Come on, my Lord Stinkard, I'll play Fo, Fox, come out of thy hole with you, i'faith. Me. I'll run and hide me from the sight of heaven. Po. Fox, fox, go out of thy hole; a twolegged fox, a two-legged fox! [Exit with Pages beating Medice. Be. Never was such an accident disclosed. Al. Let us forget it, honourable friends, And satisfy all wrongs with my son's right, In solemn marriage of his love and him. Vi. I humbly thank your highness: honour'd doctor, The balsam you infused into my wounds, Hath eased me much, and given me sudden strength Enough t'assure all danger is exempt But being brought up with beggars, call'd My princely father speaks of in our nuptials. Mendice. Al. Strange and unspeakable! St. How camest thou then To bear the port thou didst, entering this Court? Me. My lord, when I was young, being able-limb'd, Al. Which, my dear son, shall, with thy full recure, Be celebrate in greater majesty And make ye both mirrors of happiness. Monsieur D'Olive.* Monsieur D'Olive. Philip, the Duke. S. Anne, count. Vaumont, count. ACTORS. Pacque, Dicque, } two pages. Gueaquin, the Duchess. Hieronime, lady. Marcellina, countess. Eurione, her sister. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. Vandome, with servants and sailors laden. Vaumont, another way walking. Va. Convey your carriage to my brotherin-law's, The Earl of Saint Anne, to whom and to my sister Commend my humble service; tell them both Of my arrival, and intent t'attend them: When in my way I have perform'd fit duties To Count Vaumont, and his most honour'd Countess. Ser. We will, sir; this way; follow, honest Must be presented ever to our mistress; That love is like a circle, being th'efficient mistress Were worthy to employ us to that likeness; "Monsieur D'Olive. A Comedie, as it vvas sundrie times acted by her Maiesties children at the Blacke-Friers. By George Chapman. London Printed by T. C. for William Holmes, and are to be sold at his Shop in Saint Dumstons Church-yard in Fleete-streete, 1606." VOL. I. And be the only ring our powers should beat. Noble she is by birth, made good by virtue, To a sweet instrument, or else as doctrine Sits on her brow and holds a silver sceptre, With which she keeps time to the several musics Placed in the sacred consort of her beauties: Love's complete armoury is managed in her, To stir affection, and the discipline But (knowing in her, more than women's judgment, That she should nothing wrong her husband's right, To use a friend only for virtue, chosen With all the rights of friendship) took such care After the solemn parting to your travel, And spake of you with such exceeding passion, That I grew jealous, and with rage excepted Against her kindness, utterly forgetting I should have weigh'd so rare a woman's words, As duties of a free and friendly justice; Not as the headstrong and incontinent vapours, Of other ladies' bloods, enflamed with lust, By any cunning flatteries of my wife, Of all her other manifest perfections Never to let the common pandress light (Unless with sleep), nor stir out of her chamber; And so hath muffled and mew'd up her beauties In never-ceasing darkness, never sleeping But in the day transform'd by her to night, With all sun banish'd from her smother'd graces; And thus my dear and most unmatched wife, That was a comfort and a grace to me, I, by false jealousy, have no less than lost, Murther'd her living, and entomb'd her quick. Va. Conceit it not so deeply, good my lord, Your wrong to me or her was no fit ground To bear so weighty and resolved a vow From her incensed and abused virtues. Vau. There could not be a more im- To fill her with a ceaseless hate of light, And frown on continence with her oblique As nothing equals right to virtue done, Va. Virtue is not malicious, wrong done Is righted ever when men grant they err, Vau. See all her windows and her And in her chamber lights for night en- Now others rise, she takes her to her bed. With better tidings of my other friends, Of my dear sister, in whose self and me Th' Earl of Saint Anne. Vau. Unhappy that I am, I would to heaven your most welcome steps Had brought you first upon some other friend, To be the sad relator of the changes Chanced in your three years' most lamented absence. Your worthy sister, worthier far of heaven Than this unworthy hell of passionate earth, Is taken up amongst her fellow stars. Va. Unhappy man that ever I return'd, And perish'd not ere these news pierced mine ears. Vau. Nay, be not you that teach men comfort, grieved; I know your judgment will set willing To the known burthens of necessity, Retains his wife's dead corse amongst the For with the rich sweets of restoring balms She in a chair sits leaning on her arm, (Who was his greatest part) he must consume, As in an apoplexy strook with death. | Nor can the duke nor duchess comfort him, Nor messengers with consolatory letters From the kind King of France, who is allied To her and you. But to lift all his thoughts Up to another world where she expects He feeds his ears with soul-exciting music, Va. Oh, what a second ruthless sea of Wracks me within my haven, and on the shore. What shall I do? mourn, mourn, with And make my greater woes their less expel. I'll greet her, wondering at her wilful And with rebukes, breaking out of my love And duty to her honour, make her see How much her too much curious virtue wrongs her. Vau. Said like the man the world hath ever held you, Welcome, as new lives to us our good, now, Shall wholly be ascribed and trust to you. [Exeunt. Enter Rhoderique and Mugeron. Mu. See, see, the virtuous countess hath bidden our day good night; her stars are now visible. When was any lady seen to be so constant in her vow, and able to forbear the society of men so sincerely? Rh. Never in this world, at least exceeding seldom. What shame it is for men to see women so far surpass them; for when was any man known (out of judgment) to perform so staid an abstinence from the society of women? Mu. Never in this world. Rh. What an excellent creature an |