Divide this purse of gold; this other strew Whereon foes broke their swords, and tired themselves : For me, my portion provide in heaven: My root is earth'd, and I, a desolate branch, The prison limits you, and the creditors THE OLD LAW: A COMEDY, BY PHILIP MASSINGER, THOMAS MIDDLETON, AND WILLIAM ROWLEY. The DUKE OF EPIRE enacts a law, that all men who have reached the age of fourscore, shall be put to death, as being adjudged useless to the commonwealth. SIMONIDES, the bad, and CLEANTHES, the good son, are differently affected by the promulgation of the edict. Sim. Cleanthes, O, lad, here's a spring for young plants to flourish! Cle. Whither, sir, I pray? To the bleak air of storms, among those trees Sim. Yes, from our growth, Our sap and livelihood, and from our fruit. What! 'tis not jubilee with thee yet, I think; Thou look'st so sad on 't. How old is thy father! Cle. Jubilee! no, indeed; 'tis a bad year 1 His father's sword. Sim. Prithee, how old 's thy father? then I can tell thee. Cle. I know not how to answer you, Simonides. He is too old, being now exposed Unto the rigor of a cruel edict; And yet not old enough by many years, 'Cause I'd not see him go an hour before me. Sim. These very passions I speak to my father. Able to corrupt a thousand by example. To comfort his old limbs in fruitless winter? CLEANTHES, to save his old father, LEONIDES, from the operation of the law, gives out that he is dead, celebrating a pretended funeral, to make it believed. DUKE. COURTIERS. CLEANTHES, as following his father's body to the grave. Duke. Cleanthes ? Court. 'Tis, my lord, and in the place Of a chief mourner too, but strangely habited. observe it? I never saw a corse so joyfully follow'd, Light colours and light cheeks-who should this be? 'Tis a thing worth resolving.-Cleanthes Cle. O my lord! Duke. He laugh'd outright now. Was ever such a contrariety seen In natural courses yet, nay, profess'd openly? Cle. 'Tis, of a heavy time, the joyfull'st day That ever son was born to. Duke. How can that be? Cle. I joy-to make it plain-my father's dead. Court. Old Leonides ? Cle. In his last month dead. He beguiled cruel law the sweetliest It grieves me that a tear should fall upon it, Naming but death, I show myself a mortal, I shall return your servant. Duke. Well, perform it; The law is satisfied: they can but die. CLEANTHES conceals LEONIDES in a secret apartment within a wood, where himself, and his wife HIPPOLITA, keep watch for the safety of the old man. This coming to the DUKE's knowledge, he repairs to the wood and makes discovery of the place where they have hid LEONIDES. The wood.-CLEANTHES listening, as fearing every sound. Cle. What's that? O, nothing but the whispering wind Breathes through yon churlish hawthorn, that grew rude As if it chid the gentle breath that kiss'd it. I cannot be too circumspect, too careful, Though it be never lost; and if our watchfulness That comes to steal our goods, things all without us, That prove vexation often more than comfort The nerves of confidence; he that hides treasure, When 'tis a thing least minded; nay, let him change There will the fear keep still. Yonder's the storehouse A dear one to me. Precious chief of women! Cle. A blessing on thee, Both for thy news and wish. Hip. His stomach, sir, Is better'd wondrously, since his concealment. Cle. Heaven has a blessed work in it. Come, we are safe here. I prithee, call him forth, the air is much wholesomer. Hip. Father. LEONIDES comes forth. Leon. How sweetly sounds the voice of a good woman! Cle. I hope to see you often, and return Loaden with blessing, still to pour on some. And lose not one in thousands, they are dispersed Ha! Leon. What was it disturb'd my joy? As afar off? Hip. What, my excellent consort? Cle. Nor you Hip. I heard a Cle. Hark again Leon. Bless my joy! What ails it on a sudden? Cle. Now since lately Leon. 'Tis nothing but a symptom of thy care, man. Cle. Alas! you do not hear well. Leon. What was it, daughter? Hip. I heard a sound, twice. Cle. Hark! louder and nearer. In, for the precious good of virtue, quick, sir. A hunting here! 'tis strange! I never knew Enter DUKE, Courtiers, Attendants, as if hunting. Cle. Ha! 'tis- -is it not the Duke ?- -look sparingly. Hip. 'Tis he, but what of that? alas! take heed, sir; Your care will overthrow us. Cle. Come, it shall not. Let's set a pleasant face upon our fears, Though our hearts shake with horror. Ha! ha! ha! Duke. Hark! Cle. Prithee, proceed; I'm taken with these light things infinitely, Since the old man's decease.-Ha! ha! ha!Duke. Why, how should I believe this? Look, he's merry, As if he had no such charge. One with that care Could never be so still; he holds his temper,. And 'tis the same still; with no difference, He brought his father's corpse to the grave with. He laugh'd thus then, you know. Court. Ay, he may laugh, my lord; That shows but how he glories in his cunning; And, perhaps, done more to advance his wit, Than to express affection to his father, Duke. If a contempt can be so neatly carried, Cleanthes |