Part 2 / Act 5 — ACT V. SCENE I.

A Hall in Antonio’s House.

Enter Antonio^[562] and Aberzanes.

Ant. You’re welcome, sir.

Aber. I think I’m worthy on’t,

For, look you, sir, I come untruss’d,^[563] in troth.

Ant. The more’s the pity—honester men go to’t—

That slaves should ’scape it. What blade have you got there?

Aber. Nay, I know not that, sir: I am not acquainted greatly with the blade; I am sure ’tis a good scabbard, and that satisfies me.

Ant. ’Tis long enough indeed, if that be good.

Aber. I love to wear a long weapon; ’tis a thing commendable.

Ant. I pray, draw it, sir.

Aber. It is not to be drawn.

Ant. Not to be drawn?

Aber. I do not care to see’t: to tell you troth, sir, ’tis only a holyday thing, to wear by a man’s side.

Ant. Draw it, or I’ll rip thee down from neck to navel,

Though there’s small glory in’t.

Aber. Are you in earnest, sir?

Ant. I’ll tell thee that anon.

Aber. Why, what’s the matter, sir?

Ant. What a base misery is this in life now!

320This slave had so much daring courage in him

To act a sin would shame whole generations,

But hath not so much honest strength about him

To draw a sword in way of satisfaction.

This shews thy great guilt, that thou dar’st not fight.

Aber. Yes, I dare fight, sir, in an honest cause.

Ant. Why, come then, slave! thou’st made my sister a whore.

Aber. Prove that an honest cause, and I’ll be hang’d.

Ant. So many starting holes? can I light no way?

Go to, you shall have your wish, all honest play.—Come

forth, thou fruitful wickedness, thou seed

Of shame and murder! take to thee in wedlock

Baseness and cowardice, a fit match for thee!—

Come, sir, along with me.

Enter Francisca.

Aber. 'Las, what to do?

I am too young to take a wife, in troth.

Ant. But old enough to take a strumpet though:

You’d fain get all your children beforehand,

And marry when you’ve done; that’s a strange course, sir.

This woman I bestow on thee: what dost thou say?

Aber. I would I had such another to bestow on you, sir!

Ant. Uncharitable slave! dog, coward as thou art,

To wish a plague so great as thine to any!

Aber. To my friend, sir, where I think I may be bold.

Ant. Down, and do’t solemnly; contract yourselves

With truth and zeal, or ne’er rise up again.

321I will not have her die i’ th’ state of strumpet,

Though she took pride to live one.—Hermio, the wine!

Enter Hermio with wine.

Her. ’Tis here, sir.—Troth, I wonder at some things;

But I’ll keep honest. [Aside.

Ant. So, here’s to you both now, [They drink.

And to your joys, if’t be your luck to find 'em:

I tell you, you must weep hard, if you do.

Divide it 'twixt you both; you shall not need

A strong bill of divorcement after that,

If you mislike your bargain. Go, get in now;

Kneel and pray heartily to get forgiveness

Of those two souls whose bodies thou hast murder’d.—

[Exeunt Aberzanes and Francisca.

Spread, subtle poison! Now my shame in her

Will die when I die; there’s some comfort yet.

I do but think how each man’s punishment

Proves still a kind of justice to himself.

I was the man that told this innocent gentlewoman,

Whom I did falsely wed and falsely kill,

That he that was her husband first by contract

Was slain i’ th’ field; and he’s known yet to live:

So did I cruelly beguile his heart,

For which I’m well rewarded; so is Gaspar,

Who, to befriend my love, swore fearful oaths

He saw the last breath fly from him. I see now

’Tis a thing dreadful t’ abuse holy vows,

And falls most weight[il]y.

Her. Take comfort, sir;

You’re guilty of no death; they’re only hurt,

And that not mortally.

322Enter Gasparo.

ᚩAnt. Thou breath’st untruths.

Her. Speak, Gaspar, for me then.

Gas. Your unjust rage, sir,

Has hurt me without cause.

Ant. ’Tis chang’d to grief for’t.

How fares my wife?

Gas. No doubt, sir, she fares well,

For she ne’er felt your fury. The poor sinner

That hath this seven year kept herself sound for you,

’Tis your luck to bring her into th’ surgeon’s hands now.

Ant. Florida?

Gas. She: I know no other, sir;

You were ne’er at charge yet but with one light-horse.

Ant. Why, where’s your lady? where’s my wife to-night then?

Gas. Nay, ask not me, sir; your struck doe within

Tells a strange tale of her.

Ant. This is unsufferable!

Never had man such means to make him mad.

O that the poison would but spare my life

Till I had found her out!

Her. Your wish is granted, sir:

Upon the faithfulness of a pitying servant,

I gave you none at all; my heart was kinder.

Let not conceit abuse you; you’re as healthful,

For any drug, as life yet ever found you.

Ant. Why, here’s a happiness wipes off mighty sorrows:

The benefit of ever-pleasing service

Bless thy profession!—

323Enter Lord Governor, attended by Gentlemen.

O my worthy lord,

I’ve an ill bargain, never man had worse!

The woman that, unworthy, wears your blood

To countenance sin in her, your niece, she’s false.

Gov. False?

Ant. Impudent, adulterous.

Gov. You’re too loud,

And grow too bold too with her virtuous meekness.

Enter Florida.

Who dare accuse her?

Flo. Here’s one dare and can.

She lies this night with Celio, her own servant;

The place, Fernando’s house.

Gov. Thou dost amaze us.

Ant. Why, here’s but lust translated from one baseness

Into another: here I thought t’ have caught 'em,

But lighted wrong, by false intelligence,

And made me hurt the innocent. But now

I’ll make my revenge dreadfuller than a tempest;

An army should not stop me, or a sea

Divide 'em from my revenge. [Exit.

Gov. I’ll not speak

To have her spar’d, if she be base and guilty:

If otherwise, heaven will not see her wrong’d,

I need not take care for her. Let that woman

Be carefully look’d to, both for health and sureness.—

It is not that mistaken wound thou wear’st

Shall be thy privilege.

Flo. You cannot torture me

Worse than the surgeon does: so long I care not.

[Exit with Gasparo and a Gentleman.

324Gov. If she be^[564] adulterous, I will never trust

Virtues in women; they’re but veils for lust.

[Exit with Gentlemen.

Her. To what a lasting ruin mischief runs!

I had thought I’d well and happily ended all,

In keeping back the poison; and new rage now

Spreads a worse venom. My poor lady grieves me:

’Tis strange to me that her sweet-seeming virtues

Should be so meanly overtook with Celio,

A servant: ’tis not possible.

Enter Isabella and Sebastian.

Isa. Good morrow, Hermio:

My sister stirring yet?

Her. How? stirring, forsooth!

Here has been simple stirring. Are you not hurt, madam?

Pray, speak; we have a surgeon ready.

Isa. How? a surgeon!

Her. Hath been at work these five hours.

Isa. How he talks!

Her. Did you not meet my master?

Isa. How, your master?

Why, came he home to-night?

Her. Then know you nothing, madam?

Please you but walk in, you shall hear strange business.

Isa. I’m much beholding^[565] to your truth now, am I not?

You’ve serv’d me fair; my credit’s stain’d for ever!

[Exit with Hermio.

Seb. This is the wicked’st fortune that e’er blew:

325We’re both undone, for nothing: there’s no way

Flatters recovery now, the thing’s so gross:

Her disgrace grieves me more than a life’s loss. [Exit.