Part 2 / Act 2 — ACT II. SCENE I.

A Room in Lady Ager’s House.

Enter Captain Ager.

Cap. Ager. The son of a whore?

There is not such another murdering-piece^[718]

In all the stock of calumny; it kills

At one report two reputations,

A mother’s and a son’s. If it were possible

467That souls could fight after the bodies fell,

This were a quarrel for 'em; he should be one, indeed,

That never heard of heaven’s joys or hell’s torments,

To fight this out: I am too full of conscience,

Knowledge, and patience, to give justice to’t;

So careful of my eternity, which consists

Of upright actions, that unless I knew

It were a truth I stood for, any coward

Might make my breast his foot-pace: and who lives

That can assure the truth of his conception,

More than a mother’s carriage makes it hopeful?

And is’t not miserable valour then,

That man should hazard all upon things doubtful?

O, there’s the cruelty of my foe’s advantage!

Could but my soul resolve my cause were just,

Earth’s mountain nor sea’s surge should hide him from me!

E'en to hell’s threshold would I follow him,

And see the slanderer in before I left him!

But as it is, it fears^[719] me; and I never

Appear’d too conscionably just till now.

My good opinion of her life and virtues

Bids me go on, and fain would I be rul’d by’t;

But when my judgment tells me she’s but woman,

Whose frailty^[720] let in death to all mankind,

My valour shrinks at that. Certain, she’s good;

There only wants but my assurance in’t,

And all things then were perfect: how I thirst for’t!

Here comes the only she that could resolve^[721]—

But ’tis too vild^[722] a question to demand indeed.

468Enter Lady Ager.

Lady Ager. Son, I’ve a suit to you.

Cap. Ager. That may do well.— [Aside.

To me, good madam? you’re most sure to speed in’t,

Be’t i’ my power to grant it.

Lady Ager. ’Tis my love

Makes the request, that you would never part

From England more.

Cap. Ager. With all my heart ’tis granted!—

I’m sure I’m i’ the way never to part from’t. [Aside.

Lady Ager. Where left you your dear friend the Colonel?

Cap. Ager. O, the dear Colonel,—I should meet him soon.

Lady Ager. O fail him not then! he’s a gentleman

The fame and reputation of your time

Is much engag’d to.

Cap. Ager. Yes, and^[723] you knew all, mother.

Lady Ager. I thought I’d known so much of his fair goodness,

More could not have been look’d for.

Cap. Ager. O, yes, yes, madam,

And this his last exceeded all the rest.

Lady Ager. For gratitude’s sake, let me know this, I prithee!

Cap. Ager. Then thus; and I desire your censure^[724] freely,

Whether it appear’d not a strange noble kindness in him.

Lady Ager. Trust me, I long to hear’t.

Cap. Ager. You know he’s hasty,—

That by the way.

469Lady Ager. So are the best conditions;^[725]

Your father was the like.

Cap. Ager. I begin now

To doubt me more: why am not I so too then?

Blood follows blood through forty generations,

And I’ve a slow-pac’d wrath—a shrewd dilemma!

[Aside.

Lady Ager. Well, as you were saying, sir——

Cap. Ager. Marry, thus, good madam:

There was in company a foul-mouth’d villain—

Stay, stay,

Who should I liken him to that you have seen?

He comes so near one that I would not match him with;

Faith, just a’ th’ Colonel’s pitch, he’s ne’er the worse man;

Usurers have been compar’d to magistrates,

Extortioners to lawyers, and the like;

But they all prove ne’er the worse men for that.

Lady Ager. That’s bad enough; they need not.

Cap. Ager. This rude fellow,

A shame to all humanity or manners,

Breathes from the rottenness of his gall and malice

The foulest stain that ever man’s fame blemish’d;

Part of which fell upon your honour, madam,

Which heighten’d my affliction.

Lady Ager. Mine? my honour, sir?

Cap. Ager. The Colonel, soon enrag’d, as he’s all touchwood,

Takes fire before me, makes the quarrel his,

Appoints the field; my wrath could not be heard,

His was so high-pitch’d, so gloriously mounted.

Now, what’s the friendly fear that fights within me,

Should his brave noble fury undertake

470A cause that were unjust in our defence,

And so to lose him everlastingly

In that dark depth where all bad quarrels sink

Never to rise again, what pity 'twere

First to die here, and never to die there!

Lady Ager. Why, what’s the quarrel—speak, sir—that should raise

Such fearful doubt, my honour bearing part on’t?

The words, whate’er they were.

Cap. Ager. Son of a whore!

Lady Ager. Thou liest! [Strikes him.

And were my love ten thousand times more to thee,

Which is as much now as e’er mother’s was,

So thou should’st feel my anger. Dost thou call

That quarrel doubtful? where are all my merits?

Not one stand up to tell this man his error?

Thou might’st as well bring the sun’s truth in question

As thy birth or my honour!

Cap. Ager. Now blessings crown you for’t!

It is the joyfull’st blow that e’er flesh felt.

Lady Ager. Nay, stay, stay, sir; thou art not left so soon;

This is no question to be slighted off,

And at your pleasure clos’d up fair again,

As though you’d never touch’d it: no, honour doubted

Is honour deeply wounded; and it rages

More than a common smart, being of thy making;

For thee to fear my truth, it kills my comfort:

Where should fame seek for her reward, when he

That is her own by the great tie of blood,

Is farthest off in bounty? O poor goodness!

That only pay’st thyself with thy own works,

For nothing else looks towards thee. Tell me, pray,

Which of my loving cares dost thou requite

471With this vild^[726] thought, which of my prayers or wishes?

Many thou ow’st me for: this seven year hast thou known me

A widow, only married to my vow;

That’s no small witness of my faith and love

To him that in life was thy honour’d father;

And live I now to know that good mistrusted?

Cap. Ager. No; 't shall appear that my belief is cheerful,

For never was a mother’s reputation

Noblier defended: ’tis my joy and pride

I have a firm [faith] to bestow upon it.

Lady Ager. What’s that you said, sir?

Cap. Ager. 'Twere too bold and soon yet

To crave forgiveness of you; I’ll earn it first:

Dead or alive I know I shall enjoy it.

Lady Ager. What’s all this, sir?

Cap. Ager. My joy’s beyond expression!

I do but think how wretched I had been

Were this another’s quarrel, and not mine.

Lady Ager. Why, is it yours?

Cap. Ager. Mine? think me not so miserable,

Not to be mine; then were I worse than abject,

More to be loath’d than vileness or sin’s dunghill:

Nor did I fear your goodness, faithful madam,

But came with greedy joy to be confirm’d in’t,

To give the nobler onset. Then shines valour,

And admiration from her fix’d sphere draws,

When it comes burnish’d with a righteous cause;

Without which I’m ten fathoms under coward,

That now am ten degrees above a man,

Which is but one of virtue’s easiest wonders.

472Lady Ager. But, pray, stay; all this while I understood you.

The Colonel was the man.

Cap. Ager. Yes, he’s the man,

The man of injury, reproach, and slander,

Which I must turn into his soul again.

Lady Ager. The Colonel do’t? that’s strange!

Cap. Ager. The villain did it;

That’s not so strange:—your blessing and your leave.

Lady Ager. Come, come, you shall not go!

Cap. Ager. Not go? were death

Sent now to summon me to my eternity,

I’d put him off an hour; why, the whole world

Has not chains strong enough to bind me from’t:

The strongest is my reverence to you,

Which if you force upon me in this case,

I must be forc’d to break it.

Lady Ager. Stay, I say!

Cap. Ager. In any thing command me but in this, madam.

Lady Ager. 'Las, I shall lose him! [Aside.]—

You will hear me first?

Cap. Ager. At my return I will.

Lady Ager. You’ll never hear me more, then.

Cap. Ager. How?

Lady Ager. Come back, I say!

You may well think there’s cause I call so often.

Cap. Ager. Ha, cause! what cause?

Lady Ager. So much, you must not go.

Cap. Ager. How?

Lady Ager. You must not go.

Cap. Ager. Must not? why?

Lady Ager. I know a reason for’t,

Which I could wish you’d yield to, and not know;

473If not, it must come forth: faith, do not know,

And yet obey my will.

Cap. Ager. Why, I desire

To know no other than the cause I have,

Nor should you wish it, if you take your injury,

For one more great I know the world includes not.

Lady Ager. Yes, one that makes this nothing: yet be rul’d,

And if you understand not, seek no further.

Cap. Ager. I must; for this is nothing.

Lady Ager. Then take all;

And if amongst it you receive that secret

That will offend you, though you condemn me,

Yet blame yourself a little; for, perhaps,

I would have made my reputation sound

Upon another’s hazard with less pity;

But upon yours I dare not.

Cap. Ager. How?

Lady Ager. I dare not:

'Twas your own seeking this.

Cap. Ager. If you mean evilly,

I cannot understand you; nor for all the riches

This life has, would I.

Lady Ager. Would you never might!

Cap. Ager. Why, your goodness, that I joy to fight for.

Lady Ager. In that you neither right your joy nor me.

Cap. Ager. What an ill orator has virtue got here!

Why, shall I dare to think it a thing possible

That you were ever false?

Lady Ager. O, fearfully!

As much as you come to.

Cap. Ager. O silence, cover me!

474I’ve felt a deadlier wound than man can give me.

False!

Lady Ager. I was betray’d to a most sinful hour

By a corrupted soul I put in trust once,

A kinswoman.

Cap. Ager. Where is she? let me pay her!

Lady Ager. O, dead long since!

Cap. Ager. Nay, then, sh’as all her wages.

False! do not say’t, for honour’s goodness, do not!

You never could be so. He I call’d father

Deserv’d you at your best, when youth and merit

Could boast at highest in you; y’had no grace

Or virtue that he match’d not, no delight

That you invented but he sent it crown’d

To your full-wishing soul.

Lady Ager. That heaps my guiltiness.

Cap. Ager. O, were you so unhappy to be false

Both to yourself and me? but to me chiefly.

What a day’s hope is here lost! and with it

The joys of a just cause! Had you but thought

On such a noble quarrel, you’d ha’ died

Ere you’d ha’ yielded; for the sin’s hate first,

Next for the shame of this hour’s cowardice.

Curst be the heat that lost me such a cause,

A work that I was made for! Quench, my spirit,

And out with honour’s flaming lights within thee!

Be dark and dead to all respects of manhood!

I never shall have use of valour more.

Put off your vow for shame! why should you hoard up

Such justice for a barren widowhood,

That was so injurious to the faith of wedlock?

[Exit Lady Ager.

I should be dead, for all my life’s work’s ended;

I dare not fight a stroke now, nor engage

The noble resolution of my friends;

475Enter two Friends of Captain Ager.

That were more vild^[727]—they’re here: kill me, my shame!

I am not for the fellowship of honour. [Aside.

First Fr. Captain! fie, come, sir! we’ve been seeking for you

Very late to-day; this was not wont to be:

Your enemy’s i’ th’ field.

Cap. Ager. Truth enters cheerfully.

Sec. Fr. Good faith, sir, you’ve a royal quarrel on’t.

Cap. Ager. Yes, in some other country, Spain or Italy,

It would be held so.

First Fr. How? and is’t not here so?

Cap. Ager. ’Tis not so contumeliously receiv’d

In these parts, and^[728] you mark it.

First Fr. Not in these?

Why, prithee, what is more, or can be?

Cap. Ager. Yes;

That ordinary commotioner, the lie,

Is father of most quarrels in this climate,

And held here capital, and^[728] you go to that.

Sec. Fr. But, sir, I hope you will not go to that,

Or change your own for it: son of a whore!

Why, there’s the lie down to posterity,

The lie to birth, the lie to honesty.

Why would you cozen yourself so, and beguile

So brave a cause, manhood’s best masterpiece?

Do you e’er hope for one so brave again?

Cap. Ager. Consider then the man, [the] Colonel,

Exactly worthy, absolutely noble,

However spleen and rage abuses him;

476And ’tis not well nor manly to pursue

A man’s infirmity.

First Fr. O miracle!

So hopeful, valiant, and complete a captain

Possess’d with a tame devil! Come out! thou spoilest

The most improv’d young soldier of seven kingdoms;

Made captain at nineteen; which was deserv’d

The year before, but honour comes behind still:

Come out, I say! This was not wont to be;

That spirit ne’er stood in need of provocation,

Nor shall it now: away, sir!

Cap. Ager. Urge me not.

First Fr. By manhood’s reverend honour, but we must!

Cap. Ager. I will not fight a stroke.

First Fr. O blasphemy

To sacred valour!

Cap. Ager. Lead me where you list.

First Fr. Pardon this traitorous slumber, clogg’d with evils:

Give captains rather wives than such tame devils!

[Exeunt.