Act 5 — ACT V. SCENE I.

The Presence-Chamber in the Duke of Ferrara’s Palace.

Enter Proditor and Phœnix.

Prod. Now, Phœnix.^[919]

Phœ. Now, my lord.

Prod. Let princely blood Nourish our hopes; we bring confusion now.

Phœ. A terrible sudden blow.

Prod. Ay: what day Is this hangs over us?

Phœ. By th’ mass, Monday.

Prod. As I could wish; my purpose will thrive best: ’Twas first my birth-day, now my fortune’s day. I see whom fate will raise needs never pray.

Phœ. Never.

Prod. How is the air?

Phœ. O, full of trouble!

Prod. Does not the sky look piteously black?

Phœ. As if ’twere hung with rich men’s consciences.

Prod. Ah, stuck not a comet, like a carbuncle, Upon the dreadful brow of twelve last night?

Phœ. Twelve? no, ’twas about one.

Prod. About one? most proper, For that’s the duke.

Phœ. Well shifted from thyself! [Aside.

Prod. I could have wish’d it between one and two,

His son and him.

396Phœ. I’ll give you comfort then.

Prod. Prithee.

Phœ. There was a villanous raven seen last night

Over the presence-chamber, in hard justle

With a young eaglet.

Prod. A raven? that was I: what did the raven?

Phœ. Marry, my lord, the raven—to say truth,

I left the combat doubtful.

Prod. So ’tis still,

For all is doubt till the deed crown the will.

Now bless thy loins with freedom, wealth, and honour;

Think all thy seed young lords, and by this act

Make a foot-cloth’d^[920] posterity; now imagine

Thou see’st thy daughters with their trains borne up,

Whom else despisèd want may curse to whoredom,

And public shames which our state never threat:

She’s never lewd that is accounted great.

Phœ. I’ll alter that court axiom, thus renew’d,

She’s never great that is accounted lewd. [Aside.

Enter several Nobles.

Prod. Stand close; the presence fills. Here, here the place;

And at his rising, let his fall be base,

Beneath thy foot.

Phœ. How for his guard, my lord?

Prod. My gold and fear keep^[921] with the chief of them.

Phœ. That’s rarely well.

397Prod. Bold, heedless slave, that dares attempt a deed

Which shall in pieces rend him! [Aside.

Enter Lussurioso and Infesto.

My lords both!

Lus. The happiness of the day!

Phœ. Time my returning;

Treasons have still the worst, yet still are spurning.

[Aside.

Enter the Duke attended.

Prod. The duke!

Phœ. I ne’er was gladder to behold him.

All. Long live your grace!

Duke. I do not like that strain:

You know my age affords not to live long.

Prod. Spoke truer than you think for. [Aside.

Duke. Bestow that wish upon the prince our son.

Phœ. Nay, he’s not to live long neither. [Aside.

Prod. Him as the wealthy treasure of our hopes,

You as possession of our present comfort,

Both in one heart we reverence in one.

Phœ. O treason of a good complexion! [Aside.

[Horn winded within.

Duke. How now? what fresher news fills the court’s ear?

Enter Fidelio.

Prod. Fidelio!

Fid. Glad tidings to your grace!

The prince is safe return’d, and in your court.

Duke. Our joy breaks at our eyes; the prince is come!

398Prod. Soul-quicking^[922] news!—pale vengeance to my blood! [Aside.

Fid. By me presenting to your serious view

A brief of all his travels. [Delivers a paper.

Duke. ’Tis most welcome;

It shall be dear and precious to our eye.

Prod. He reads; I’m glad he reads.—

Now take thy opportunity, leave that place.

Phœ. At his first rising let his fall be base.^[923]

Prod. That must be alter’d now.

Phœ. Which? his rising or his fall?

Prod. Art thou dull now?

Thou hear’st the prince is come.

Duke. What’s here?^[924]

Prod. My lord?

Duke [reads]. I have got such a large portion of knowledge, most worthy father, by the benefit of my travel——

Prod. And so he has, no doubt, my lord.

Duke [reads]. That I am bold now to warn you of Lord Proditor’s insolent treason, who has irreligiously seduced a fellow, and closely conveyed him e’en in the presence-chair to murder you.

Phœ. O guilty, guilty!

Duke. What was that fell? what’s he?

Phœ. I am the man.

Prod. O slave!

Phœ. I have no power to strike.

Prod. I’m gone, I’m gone!

399Duke. Let me admire heaven’s wisdom in my son.

Phœ. I confess it, he hir’d me——

Prod. This is a slave:

’Tis forg’d against mine honour and my life;

For in what part of reason can’t appear,

The prince being travell’d should know treasons here?

Plain counterfeit.

Duke. Dost thou make false our son?

Prod. I know the prince will not affirm’t.^[925]

Fid. He can

And will, my lord.

Phœ. Most just, he may.

Duke. A guard!

Lus. We cannot but in loyal zeal ourselves

Lay hands on such a villain.

Duke. Stay you; I find you here too.

[Attendants secure Proditor.

Lus. Us, my lord?

Duke [reads]. Against Lussurioso and Infesto, who not only most riotously consume their houses in vicious gaming, mortgaging their livings to the merchant, whereby he with his heirs enter upon their lands; from whence this abuse comes, that in short time the son of the merchant has more lordships than the son of the nobleman, which else was never born to inheritance: but that which is more impious, they most adulterously train out young ladies to midnight banquets, to the utter defamation of their own honours, and ridiculous abuse of their husbands.

Lus. How could the prince hear that?

Phœ. Most true, my lord:

My conscience is a witness ’gainst itself;

400For to that execution of chaste honour

I was both hir’d and led.

Lus. I hope the prince, out of his plenteous wisdom,

Will not give wrong to us: as for this fellow,

He’s poor, and cares not to be desperate.

Enter Falso.

Fal. Justice, my lord! I have my niece stol’n from me:

Sh’as left her dowry with me, but she’s gone:

I’d rather have had her love than her money, I.

This, this is one of them. Justice, my lord!

I know him by his face; this is the thief.

Prod. Your grace may now in milder sense perceive

The wrong done to us by this impudent wretch,

Who has his hand fix’d at the throat of law,

And therefore durst be desperate of his life.

Duke. Peace, you’re too foul; your crime is in excess:

One spot of him makes not your ulcers less.

Prod. O!

Duke. Did your violence force away his niece?

Phœ. No, my good lord; I’ll still confess what’s truth;

I did remove her from her many wrongs,

Which she was pleas’d to leave, they were so vild.^[926]

Duke. What are you nam’d?

Fal. Falso, my lord, Justice Falso;

I’m known by that name.

Duke. Falso? you came fitly;

You are the very next that follows here.

Fal. I hope so, my lord; my name is in all the records, I can assure your good grace.

401Enter Niece and Castiza behind.

Duke [reads]. Against Justice Falso——

Fal. Ah!

Duke [reads]. Who, having had the honest charge of his niece committed to his trust by the last will and testament of her deceased father, and with her all the power of his wealth, not only against faith and conscience detains her dowry, but against nature and humanity assays to abuse her body.

Niece [coming forward]. I’m present to affirm it, my lov’d lord.

Fal. How? what make I here?^[927]

Niece. Either I must agree

To loathed lust, or despis’d beggary.

Duke. Are you the plaintiff here?

Fal. Ay, my good lord,

For fault of a better.

Duke. Seldom comes a worse.—[Reads] And moreover, not contained in^[928] this vice only, which is odious too much, but, against the sacred use of justice, maintains three thieves to his men.

Fal. Cuds me!

Duke [reads]. Who only take purses in their master’s liberty, where if any one chance to be taken, he appears before him in a false beard, and one of his own fellows takes his examination.

Fal. By my troth, as true as can be; but he shall not know on’t. [Aside.

Duke [reads]. And in the end will execute justice so cruelly upon him, that he will not trust him in a prison, but commit him to his fellows’ chamber.

Fal. Can a man do nothing i’ the country but 402’tis told at court? there’s some busy informing knave abroad, a’ my life. [Aside.

Phœ. That this is true, and these, and more, my lord,

Be it, under pardon, spoken for mine own;

He the disease of justice, these of honour,

And this of loyalty and reverence,

The unswept venom of the palace.

Prod. Slave!

Phœ. Behold the prince to approve it!

[Discovers himself.^[929]

Prod. O, where?

Phœ. Your eyes keep with your actions, both look wrong.

Prod. An infernal to my spirit!

All. My lord, the prince!

Prod. Tread me to dust, thou in whom wonder keeps!^[930]

Behold the serpent on his belly creeps.

Phœ. Rankle not my foot; away!

Treason, we laugh at thy vain-labouring stings,^[931]

Above the foot thou hast no power o’er kings!

Duke. I cannot with sufficient joy receive thee,

And yet my joy’s too much.

Phœ. My royal father,

To whose unnatural murder I was hir’d,

I thought it a more natural course of travel,

And answering future expectation,

To leave far countries, and inquire mine own.

Duke. To thee let reverence all her powers engage,

403That art in youth a miracle to age!

State is but blindness; thou hadst piercing art:

We only saw the knee, but thou the heart.

To thee, then, power and dukedom we resign:

He’s fit to reign whose knowledge can refine.

Phœ. Forbid it my obedience!

Duke. Our word’s not vain:

I know thee wise, canst both obey and reign.

The rest of life we dedicate to heaven.

All. A happy and safe reign to our new duke!

Phœ. Without your prayers safer and happier.—

Fidelio.

Fid. My royal lord.

Phœ. Here, take this diamond:^[932]

You know the virtue on’t; it can fetch vice.

Madam Castiza——

Fid. She attends, my lord. [Exit.

Phœ. Place a guard near us.—

Know you yon fellow, lady?

Cas. [coming forward] My honour’s evil!

Prod. Torment again!^[933]

Phœ. So ugly are thy crimes,

Thine eye cannot endure ’em:

And that thy face may stand perpetually

Turn’d so from ours, and thy abhorred self

Neither to threaten wrack^[934] of state or credit,

An everlasting banishment seize on thee!

Prod. O fiend!

Phœ. Thy life is such it is too bad to end.

404Prod. May thy rule, life, and all that’s in thee glad,

Have as short time as thy begetting had!

Phœ. Away! thy curse is idle. [Exit Proditor.

The rest are under reformation,

And therefore under pardon.

Lus. &c. Our duties shall turn edge upon our crimes.

Fal. ’Slid, I was afraid of nothing, but that for my thievery and bawdery I should have been turned to an innkeeper. [Aside.

Re-enter Fidelio with Jeweller’s Wife.

My daughter! I am ashamed her worship should see me.

Jew. Wife. Who would not love a friend at court? what fine galleries and rooms am I brought through! I had thought my Knight durst not have shewn his face here, I.

Phœ. Now, mother of pride and daughter of lust, which is your friend now?

Jew. Wife. Ah me!

Phœ. I’m sure you are not so unprovided to be without a friend here: you’ll pay enough for him first.

Jew. Wife. This is the worst room that ever I came in.

Phœ. I am your servant, mistress;^[935] know you not me?

Jew. Wife. Your worship is too great for me to know: I’m but a small-timbered woman, when I’m out of my apparel, and dare not venture upon greatness.

405Phœ. Do you deny me then? know you this purse?

Jew. Wife. That purse? O death, has the Knight serv’d me so?

Given away my favours?

Phœ. Stand forth, thou one of those

For whose close lusts the plague ne’er^[936] leaves the city.

Thou worse than common! private, subtle harlot!

That dost deceive three with one feigned lip,

Thy husband, the world’s eye, and the law’s whip.

Thy zeal is hot, for ’tis to lust and fraud,

And dost not dread to make thy book thy bawd.

Thou’rt curse enough to husband’s ill-got gains,

For whom the court rejects his gold maintains.

How dear and rare was freedom wont to be!

Now few but are by their wives’ copies free,

And brought to such a head, that now we see

City and suburbs wear one livery!

Jew. Wife. ’Tis ’long of those,^[937] an’t like your grace, that come in upon us, and will never leave marrying of our widows till they make ’em all as free as their first husbands.

Phœ. I perceive you can shift a point well.

Jew. Wife. Let me have pardon, I beseech your grace, and I’ll peach ’em all, all the close women that are; and, upon my knowledge, there’s above five thousand within the walls and the liberties.

Phœ. A band! they shall be sent against the Turks;^[938]

Infidels against infidels.

Jew. Wife. I will hereafter live so modestly, I will not lie with mine own husband, nor come near a man in the way of honesty.

Fal. I’ll be her warrant, my lord.

406Phœ. You are deceiv’d; you think you’re still a justice.

Fal. ’S foot, worse than I was before I kneeled!

I am no justice now; I know I shall be some innkeeper

at last.

Jew. Wife. My father? ’tis mine own father.

Phœ. I should have wonder’d else, lust being so like.

Niece. Her birth was kin to mine; she may prove modest:

For my sake I beseech you pardon her.

Phœ. For thy sake I’ll do more.—Fidelio, hand her.

My favours on you both; next, all that wealth

Which was committed to that perjur’d’s trust.

Fal. I’m a beggar now; worse than an innkeeper.

Enter Tangle mad.

Tan. Your mittimus shall not serve: I’ll set myself free with a deliberandum; with a deliberandum, mark you.

Duke. What’s he? a guard!

Phœ. Under your sufferance,

Worthy father, his harm is to himself;

One that has lov’d vexation so much,

He cannot now be rid on’t:

Has been so long in suits, that he’s law-mad.

Tan. A judgment, I crave a judgment, yea! nunc pro tunc, corruptione alicujus. I peeped me a raven in the face, and I thought it had been my solicitor: O, the pens prick me!

Enter Quieto.

Phœ. And here comes he (wonder for temperance)

Will take the cure upon him.

Qui. A blessing to this fair assembly!

Tan. Away! I’ll have none on’t: give me an 407audita querela, or a testificandum, or a despatch in twelve terms: there’s a blessing, there’s a blessing!

Phœ. You see the unbounded rage of his disease.

Qui. ’Tis the foul fiend, my lord, has got within him.

The rest are fair to this: this breeds in ink,

And to that colour turns the blood possess’d:

For instance, now your grace shall see him dress’d.

Tan. Ah ha! I rejoice then he’s puzzled, and muzzled too:

Is’t come to a cepi corpus?

Qui. Ah, good sir,

This is for want of patience!

Tan. That’s a fool:

She never saw the dogs and the bears fight;^[939]

A country thing.

Qui. This is for lack of grace.

Tan. I’ve other business, not so much idle time.

Qui. You never say your prayers.

Tan. I’m advised by my learned counsel.

Qui. The power of my charm come o’er thee,

Place by degrees thy wits before thee!

With silken patience here I bind thee,

Not to move till I unwind thee.

Tan. Yea! is my cause so muddy? do I stick, do I stick fast?

408Advocate, here’s my hand, pull; art made of flint?

Wilt not help out? alas, there’s nothing in’t!

Phœ. O, do you sluice the vein now?

Qui. Yes, my honour’d lord.

Phœ. Pray, let me see the issue.

Qui. I therefore seek to keep it.—Now burst out,

Thou filthy stream of trouble, spite, and doubt!

Tan. O, an extent, a proclamation, a summons, a recognisance, a tachment, and injunction! a writ, a seizure, a writ of ’praisement, an absolution, a quietus est!

Qui. You’re quieter, I hope, by so much dregs.—Behold, my lord!

Phœ. This! why, it outfrowns ink.

Qui. ’Tis the disease’s nature, the fiend’s drink.

Tan. O sick, sick, signior Ply-fee, sick! lend me thy nightcap, O!

Qui. The balsam of a temperate brain

I pour into this thirsty vein,

And with this blessed oil of quiet,

Which is so cheap, that few men buy it,

Thy stormy temples I allay:

Thou shalt give up the devil, and pray;

Forsake his works, they’re foul and black,

And keep thee bare in purse and back.

No more shalt thou in paper quarrel,

To dress up apes in good apparel.

He throws his stock and all his flock

Into a swallowing gulf,

That sends his goose unto his fox,

His lamb unto his wolf.

Keep thy increase,

And live at peace,

For war’s^[940] not equal to this battle:

409That eats but men; this men and cattle:

Therefore no more this combat choose,

Where he that wins does always lose;

And those that gain all, with this curse receive it,

From fools they get it, to their sons they leave it.

Tan. Hail, sacred patience! I begin to feel

I have a conscience now; truth in my words,

Compassion in my heart, and, above all,

In my blood peace’s music. Use me how you can,

You shall find me an honest, quiet man.

O, pardon, that I dare behold that face!

Now I’ve least^[941] law I hope I have most grace.

Phœ. We both admire the workman and his piece.

Thus when all hearts are tun’d to honour’s strings,

There is no music to the quire of kings.

[Exeunt omnes.

411