A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Vol. VII (4th edition) - Various
Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28
GISMUND. O king and father, humbly give her leave
To plead for grace, that stands in your disgrace.
Not that she recks this life,[72] for I confess
I have deserv'd, when so it pleaseth you,
To die the death, mine honour and my name,
As you suppose, distained with reproach:
And well contented shall I meet the stroke
That must dissever this detested head
From these lewd limbs. But this I wish were known,
That now I live not for myself alone.
For when I saw that neither my request,
Nor the entreaty of my careful aunt,
Could win your highness' pleasure to our will;
"Then love, heat of the heart, life of the soul,
Fed by desire, increasing by restraint,"
Would not endure controlment any more,
But violently enforc'd my feeble heart
(For who am I, alas! still to resist
Such endless conflicts?) to relent and yield:
Therewith I chose him for my lord and pheer,
Guiscard mine Earl, that holds my love full dear.
Then if it be so settled in your mind,
He shall not live, because he dar'd to love
Your daughter: thus I give your grace to know.
Within his heart there is inclos'd my life.
Therefore, O father, if that name may be
Sweet to your ears, and that we may prevail
By name of father, that you favour us:
But otherwise, if now we cannot find
That which our falsed hope did promise us;
Why then proceed, and rid our trembling hearts
Of these suspicions; since neither in this case
His good deserts in service to your grace,
Which always have been just, nor my desires,
May mitigate the cruel rage of grief
That strains your heart, but that mine Earl must die;
Then all in vain you ask, what I can say,
Why I should live. Sufficeth for my part
To say I will not live, and so resolve.
TANCRED. Dar'st thou so desperate decree thy death?
GISMUND. A dreadless heart delights in such decrees.
TANCRED. Thy kind abhorreth such unkindly thoughts.
GISMUND. Unkindly thoughts they are to them that live
In kindly love.
TANCRED. As I do unto thee.
GISMUND. To take his life who is my love from me?
TANCRED. Have I then lost thy love?
GISMUND. If he shall lose
His life, that is my love.
TANCRED.
Thy love? Begone.
Return into thy chamber.
GISMUND.
I will go.
[GISMUND _departeth to her chamber_.
ACT IV., SCENE 4.
JULIO _with his guard bringeth in the_ COUNTY PALURIN _prisoner_.
JULIO. If it please your highness, hither have we brought
This captive Earl, as you commanded us.
Whom, as we were foretold, even there we found.
Where by your majesty we were enjoin'd
To watch for him. What more your highness wills.
This heart and hand shall execute your best.
TANCRED. Julio, we thank your pains. Ah, Palurin!
Have we deserved in such traitorous sort
Thou shouldst abuse our kingly courtesies,
Which we too long in favour have bestow'd
Upon thy false, dissembling heart with us?
What grief thou therewithal hast thrown on us,
What shame upon our house, what dire distress
Our soul endures, cannot be uttered.
And durst thou, villain, dare to undermine
Our daughter's chamber? durst thy shameless face
Be bold to kiss her? th'rest we will conceal.
Sufficeth that thou know'st I too well know
All thy proceedings in thy private shames.
Herein what hast thou won? thine own content,
With the displeasure of thy lord and king;
The thought whereof if thou hadst had in mind
The least remorse of love and loyalty
Might have restrain'd thee from so foul an act.
But, Palurin, what may I deem of thee,
Whom neither fear of gods, nor love of him,
Whose princely favour hath been thine uprear,
Could quench the fuel of thy lewd desires?
Wherefore content thee, that we are resolv'd
(And therefore laid to snare thee with this bait)
That thy just death, with thine effused blood,
Shall cool the heat and choler of our mood.
GUISCARD. My lord the king, neither do I mislike
Your sentence, nor do your smoking sighs,
Reach'd from the entrails of your boiling heart,
Disturb the quiet of my calmed thoughts:
For this I feel, and by experience prove,
Such is the force and endless might of love,
As never shall the dread of carrion death,
That hath envy'd our joys, invade my breast.
For if it may be found a fault in me,
That evermore hath lov'd your majesty,
Likewise to honour and to love your child;
If love unto you both may be a fault--
But unto her my love exceeds compare--
Then this hath been my fault, for which I joy,
That in the greatest lust of all my life,
I shall submit for her sake to endure
The pangs of death. O mighty lord of Love,
Strengthen thy vassal boldly to receive
Large wounds into this body for her sake!
Then use my life or death, my lord and king,
For your relief to ease your grieved soul:
For whether I live, or else that I must die
To end your pains, I am content to bear;
Knowing by death I shall bewray the truth
Of that sound heart, which living was her own,
And died alive for her, that lived mine.
TANCRED. Thine, Palurin? What! lives my daughter thine?
Traitor, thou wrong'st me, for she liveth mine.
Rather I wish ten thousand sundry deaths,
Than I to live, and see my daughter thine.
Thine that is dearer than my life to me?
Thine whom I hope to see an emp[e]ress?
Thine whom I cannot pardon from my sight?
Thine unto whom we have bequeath'd our crown?--
Julio, we will that thou inform from us
Renuchio the captain of our guard,
That we command this traitor be convey'd
Into the dungeon underneath our tower;
There let him rest, until he be resolv'd
What farther we intend; which to understand
We will Renuchio repair to us.
JULIO. O, that I might your majesty entreat
With clemency to beautify your seat
Toward this prince, distress'd by his desires,
Too many, all too strong to captivate.
TANCRED. "This is the soundest safety for a king,
To cut them off, that vex or hinder him."
JULIO. "This have I found the safety of a king,
To spare the subjects that do honour him."
TANCRED. Have we been honour'd by this lecher's lust?
JULIO. No, but by his devout submission.
TANCRED. Our fortune says we must do what we may.
JULIO. "This is praise-worth, not to do what you may."
TANCRED. And may the subject countermand the king?
JULIO. No, but entreat him.
TANCRED. What he shall decree?
JULIO. What wisdom shall discern.
TANCRED. Nay, what our word
Shall best determine. We will not reply.
Thou know'st our mind: our heart cannot be eas'd,
But with the slaughter of this Palurin.
[The KING hasteth into his palace.
GUISCARD. O thou great god, who from thy highest throne
Hast stooped down, and felt the force of love,
Bend gentle ears unto the woful moan
Of me poor wretch, to grant that I require!
Help to persuade the same great god, that he
So far remit his might, and slack his fire
From my dear lady's kindled heart, that she
May hear my death without her hurt. Let not
Her face, wherein there is as clear a light
As in the rising moon: let not her cheeks,
As red as is the party-colour'd rose,
Be paled with the news hereof: and so
I yield myself, my seely soul and all,
To him, for her, for whom my death shall show
I liv'd; and as I liv'd, I died her thrall.
Grant this, thou Thunderer: this shall suffice,
My breath to vanish in the liquid skies.
[GUISCARD _is led to prison_.
CHORUS 1. Who doth not know the fruits of Paris' love,
Nor understand the end of Helen's joy?
He may behold the fatal overthrow
Of Priam's house and of the town of Troy--
His death at last and her eternal shame;
For whom so many noble knights were slain.
So many a duke, so many a prince of fame
Bereft his life, and left there in the plain.
Medea's armed hand, Eliza's sword,
Wretched Leander drenched in the flood.
Phillis, so long that waited for her lord:
All these too dearly bought their loves with blood.
CHORUS 2. But he in virtue that his lady serves.
Ne wills but what unto her honour 'longs,
He never from the rule of reason swerves;
He feeleth not the pangs ne raging throngs
Of blind Cupid: he lives not in despair,
As done his servants; neither spends his days
In joy and care, vain hope and throbbing fear:
But seeks alway what may his sovereign please
In honour: he that thus serves, reaps the fruit
Of his sweet service; and no jealous dread,
Nor base suspect of aught to let his suit,
Which causeth oft the lover's heart to bleed,
Doth fret his mind, or burneth in his breast:
He waileth not by day, nor wakes by night,
When every other living thing doth rest;
Nor finds his life or death within her sight.
CHORUS 3. Remember thou in virtue serve therefore
Thy chaste lady: beware thou do not love,
As whilom Venus did the fair Adone,
But as Diana lov'd th'Amazon's son;
Through whose request the gods to him alone
Restor'd new life. The twine that was undone,
Was by the sisters twisted up again.
The love of virtue in thy lady's looks,
The love of virtue in her learned talk;
This love yields matter for eternal books.
This love enticeth him abroad to walk,
There to invent and write new roundelays
Of learn'd conceit, her fancies to allure
To vain delights: such humours he allays,
And sings of virtue and her garments pure.
CHORUS 4. Desire not of thy sovereign the thing
Whereof shame may ensue by any mean;
Nor wish thou aught that may dishonour bring.
So whilom did the learned Tuscan[73] serve
His fair lady; and glory was their end.
Such are the praises lovers done deserve,
Whose service doth to virtue and honour tend.
FINIS ACTUS IV. COMPOSUIT CH. HAT.[74]
ACT V., SCENE 1.
RENUCHIO _cometh out of the palace_.
RENUCHIO. O cruel fate! O miserable chance!
O dire aspect of hateful destinies!
O woe may not be told! Suffic'd it not
That I should see, and with these eyes behold
So foul, so bloody, and so base a deed:
But more to aggravate the heavy cares
Of my perplexed mind, must only I,
Must I alone be made the messenger,
That must deliver to her princely ears
Such dismal news, as when I shall disclose,
I know it cannot but abridge her days?
As when the thunder and three-forked fire,
Rent through the clouds by Jove's almighty power,
Breaks up the bosom of our mother earth,
And burns her heart, before the heat be felt.
In this distress, whom should I most bewail,
My woe, that must be made the messenger
Of these unworthy and unwelcome news?
Or shall I moan thy death, O noble Earl?
Or shall I still lament the heavy hap,
That yet, O Queen, attends thy funeral?
CHORUS 1. What moans be these?
Renuchio, is this Salerne I see?
Doth here King Tancred hold the awful crown?
Is this the place where civil people be?
Or do the savage Scythians here abound?
CHORUS 2. What mean these questions? whither tend these words?
Resolve us maidens, and release our fears.
Whatever news thou bring'st, discover them.
Detain us not in this suspicious dread!
"The thought whereof is greater than the woe."
RENUCHIO. O, whither may I cast my looks? to heaven?
Black pitchy clouds from thence rain down revenge.
The earth shall I behold, stain'd with the gore
Of his heart-blood, that died most innocent?
Which way soe'er I turn mine eyes, methinks
His butcher'd corpse stands staring in my face.
CHORUS 3. We humbly pray thee to forbear these words,
So full of terror to our maiden hearts:
"The dread of things unknown breeds the suspect
Of greater dread, until the worst be known."
Tell therefore what hath chanc'd, and whereunto
This bloody cup thou holdest in thy hand.
RENUCHIO. Since so is your request, that I shall do,
Although my mind so sorrowful a thing
Repines to tell, and though my voice eschews
To say what I have seen; yet since your will
So fixed stands to hear for what I rue,
Your great desires I shall herein fulfil.
Fast by Salerne city, amids the plain,
There stands a hill whose bottom, huge and round.
Thrown out in breadth, a large space doth contain:
And gathering up in height, small from the ground,
Still less and less it mounts: there sometime was
A goodly tower uprear'd, that flower'd in fame
While fate and fortune serv'd; but time doth pass,
And with his sway suppresseth all the same:
For now the walls be even'd with the plain,
And all the rest so foully lies defac'd,
As but the only shade doth there remain
Of that, which there was built in time forepass'd:
And yet that shows what worthy work tofore
Hath there been rear'd. One parcel of that tower[75]
Yet stands, which eating time could not devour:
A strong turret, compact of stone and rock,
Hugy without, but horrible within:
To pass to which, by force of handy stroke,
A crooked strait is made, that enters in,
And leads into this ugly loathsome place.
Within the which, carved into the ground,
A deep dungeon[76] there runs of narrow space.
Dreadful and dark, where never light is found:
Into this hollow cave, by cruel hest
Of King Tancred, were divers servants sent
To work the horror of his furious breast,
Erst nourish'd in his rage, and now stern bent
To have the same perform'd. I woful man,
Amongst the rest, was one to do the thing.
That to our charge so straitly did belong,
In sort as was commanded by the king.
Within which dreadful prison when we came,
The noble County Palurin, that there
Lay chain'd in gyves,[77] fast fetter'd in his bolts,
Out of the dark dungeon we did uprear,
And hal'd him thence into a brighter place,
That gave us light to work our tyranny.
But when I once beheld his manly face,
And saw his cheer, no more appall'd with fear
Of present death, than he whom never dread
Did once amate:[78] my heart abhorred then
To give consent unto so foul a deed:
That wretched death should reave so worthy a man.
On false fortune I cried with loud complaint,
That in such sort o'erwhelms nobility.
But he, whom never grief ne fear could taint,
With smiling cheer himself oft willeth me
To leave to plain his case, or sorrow make
For him; for he was far more glad apaid
Death to embrace thus for his lady's sake,
Than life or all the joys of life, he said.
For loss of life, quoth he, grieves me no more
Than loss of that which I esteemed least:
My lady's grief, lest she should rue therefore,
Is all the cause of grief within my breast.
He pray'd therefore, that we would make report
To her of those his last words he would say:
That, though he never could in any sort
Her gentleness requite, nor never lay
Within his power to serve her as he would;
Yet she possess'd his heart with hand and might,
To do her all the honour that he could.
This was to him, of all the joys that might
Revive his heart, the chiefest joy of all,
That to declare the faithful heart which he
Did bear to her, fortune so well did fall,
That in her love he should both live and die.
After these words he stay'd, and spake no more,
But joyfully beholding us each one,
His words and cheer amazed us so sore,
That still we stood; when forthwith thereupon:
But, why slack you, quoth he, to do the thing
For which you come? make speed, and stay no more:
Perform your master's will. Now tell the king
He hath his life, for which he long'd so sore:
And with those words himself with his own hand
Fast'ned the bands about his neck. The rest
Wond'ring at his stout heart, astonied[79] stand
To see him offer thus himself to death.
What stony breast, or what hard heart of flint
Would not relent to see this dreary sight?
So goodly a man, whom death nor fortune's dint
Could once disarm, murder'd with such despite;
And in such sort bereft, amidst the flowers
Of his fresh years, that ruthful was to seen:
"For violent is death, when he devours
Young men or virgins, while their years be green."
Lo! now our servants seeing him take the bands,
And on his neck himself to make them fast;
Without delay set to their cruel hands,
And sought to work their fierce intent with haste.
They stretch the bloody bands; and when the breath
Began to fail his breast, they slack'd again:
Thrice did they pull, and thrice they loosed him,
So did their hands repine against their hearts:
And ofttimes loosed to his greater pain.
"But date of death, that fixed is so fast,
Beyond his course there may no wight extend;"
For strangled is this noble Earl at last,
Bereft of life, unworthy such an end.
CHORUS. O damned deed!
RENUCHIO. What, deem you this to be
All the sad news that I have to unfold?
Is here, think you, end of the cruelty
That I have seen?
CHORUS. Could any heavier woe
Be wrought to him, than to destroy him so?
RENUCHIO. What, think you this outrage did end so well?
The horror of the fact, the greatest grief,
The massacre, the terror is to tell.
CHORUS. Alack! what could be more? they threw percase
The dead body to be devour'd and torn
Of the wild beasts.
RENUCHIO. Would God it had been cast a savage prey
To beasts and birds: but lo, that dreadful thing
Which e'en the tiger would not work, but to
Suffice his hunger, that hath the tyrant king
Withouten ruth commanded us to do,
Only to please his wrathful heart withal.
Happy had been his chance, too happy, alas!
If birds or beasts had eaten up his corpse,
Yea, heart and all within this cup I bring,
And am constrained now unto the face
Of his dear lady to present the same.
CHORUS. What kind of cruelty is this you name?
Declare forthwith, and whereunto doth tend
This farther plaint.
RENUCHIO. After his breath was gone,
Forced perforce thus from his panting breast,
Straight they despoiled him; and not alone
Contented with his death, on the dead corpse,
Which ravenous beasts forbear to lacerate,
Even upon this our villains fresh begun
To show new cruelty; forthwith they pierce
His naked belly, and unripp'd it so,
That out the bowels gush'd. Who can rehearse
Their tyranny, wherewith my heart yet bleeds?
The warm entrails were torn out of his breast,
Within their hands trembling, not fully dead;
His veins smok'd, his bowels all-to reeked,
Ruthless were rent, and thrown about the place:
All clottered lay the blood in lumps of gore,
Sprent[80] on his corpse, and on his paled face;
His trembling heart, yet leaping, out they tore,
And cruelly upon a rapier
They fix'd the same, and in this hateful wise
Unto the king this heart they do present:
A sight long'd for to feed his ireful eyes.
The king perceiving each thing to be wrought
As he had will'd, rejoicing to behold
Upon the bloody sword the pierced heart,
He calls then for this massy cup of gold,
Into the which the woful heart he cast;
And reaching me the same: now go, quoth he,
Unto my daughter, and with speedy haste
Present her this, and say to her from me,
Thy father hath here in this cup thee sent
That thing to joy and comfort thee withal,
Which thou lovedst best, even as thou wert content
To comfort him with his chief joy of all.
CHORUS. O hateful fact! O passing cruelty!
O murder wrought with too much hard despite!
O heinous deed, which no posterity
Will once believe!
RENUCHIO. Thus was Earl Palurin
Strangled unto the death, yea, after death
His heart and blood disbowell'd from his breast.
But what availeth plaint? It is but breath
Forewasted all in vain. Why do I rest
Here in this place? Why go I not, and do
The hateful message to my charge committed?
O, were it not that I am forced thereto
By a king's will, here would I stay my feet,
Ne one whit farther wade in this intent!
But I must yield me to my prince's hest;
Yet doth this somewhat comfort mine unrest,
I am resolv'd her grief not to behold,
But get me gone, my message being told.
Where is the princess' chamber?
CHORUS. Lo, where she comes.
ACT V., SCENE 2.
GISMUND _cometh out of her chamber, to whom_
RENUCHIO _delivereth his cup, saying_:
RENUCHIO. Thy father, O queen, here in this cup hath sent
The thing to joy and comfort thee withal
Which thou lovedst best, even as thou wast content
To comfort him with his chief joy of all.
GISMUNDA. I thank my father, and thee, gentle squire,
For this thy travail; take thou, for thy pains,
This bracelet, and commend me to the king. [RENUCHIO _departeth_.
So, now is come the long-expected hour,
The fatal hour I have so looked for;
Now hath my father satisfied his thirst
With guiltless blood, which he so coveted.
What brings this cup? Ah me! I thought no less,
It is mine Earl's, my County's pierced heart.
Dear heart, too dearly hast thou bought my love;
Extremely rated at too high a price!
Ah, my sweet heart, sweet wast thou in thy life,
But in thy death thou provest passing sweet.
A fitter hearse than this of beaten gold
Could not be 'lotted to so good an heart:
My father therefore well provided thus
To close and wrap thee up in massy gold,
And therewithal to send thee unto me,
To whom of duty thou dost best belong.
My father hath in all his life bewray'd
A princely care and tender love to me;
But this surpasseth--in his later days
To send me this, mine own dear heart, to me.
Wert thou not mine, dear heart, whilst that my love
Danced and play'd upon thy golden strings?
Art thou not mine, dear heart, now that my love
Is fled to heaven, and got him golden wings?
Thou art mine own, and still mine own shalt be,
Therefore my father sendeth thee to me.
Ah, pleasant harborough[81] of my heart's thought!
Ah, sweet delight, the quickener of my soul!
Seven times accursed be the hand that wrought
Thee this despite, to mangle thee so foul:
Yet in this wound I see mine own true love,
And in this wound thy magnanimity,
And in this wound I see thy constancy.
Go, gentle heart, go rest thee in thy tomb,
Receive this token at thy last farewell. [_She kisseth it_.
Thine own true heart anon will follow thee,
Which panting lusteth[82] for thy company.
Thus hast thou run, poor heart! thy mortal race,
And rid thy life from fickle fortune's snares;
Thus hast thou lost this world and worldly cares,
And of thy foe, to honour thee withal,
Receiv'd a golden grave to thy desert.
Nothing doth want to thy just funeral,
But my salt tears to wash thy bloody wound:
Which to the end thou might'st receive, behold
My father sends thee in this cup of gold;
And thou shalt have them, though I was resolv'd
To shed no tears, but with a cheerful face
Once did I think to wet thy funeral
Only with blood and with no weeping eye.
This done, forthwith my soul shall fly to thee;
For therefore did my father send thee me.
Ah, my pure heart! with sweeter company
Or more content, how safer may I prove
To pass to places all unknown with thee!
Why die I not therefore? why do I stay?
Why do I not this woful life forego,
And with these hands enforce this breath away?
What means this gorgeous glittering head-attire?
How ill beseem these billaments[83] of gold
Thy mournful widowhood? away with them--
[_She undresseth her hair_.
So let thy tresses, flaring in the wind,
Untrimmed hang about thy bared neck.
Now, hellish furies, set my heart on fire,
Bolden my courage, strengthen ye my hands,
Against their kind, to do a kindly deed.
But shall I then unwreaken[84] down descend?
Shall I not work some just revenge on him
That thus hath slain my love? shall not these hands
Fire his gates, and make the flame to climb
Up to the pinnacles with burning brands,
And on his cinders wreak my cruel teen[85]?
Be still, fond girl; content thee first to die,
This venom'd water shall abridge thy life:
[_She taketh a vial of poison out of her pocket_.
This for the same intent provided I,
Which can both ease and end this raging strife.
Thy father by thy death shall have more woe,
Than fire or flames within his gates can bring:
Content thee then in patience hence to go,
Thy death his blood shall wreak upon the king.
Now not alone (a grief to die alone)
"The only mirror of extreme annoy;"
But not alone thou diest, my love, for I
Will be copartner of thy destiny.
Be merry then, my soul; can'st thou refuse
To die with him, that death for thee did choose?
CHORUS 1. What damned fury hath possessed our Queen?
Why sit we still beholding her distress?
Madam, forbear, suppress this headstrong rage.
GISMUNDA. Maidens, forbear your comfortable words.
CHORUS 2. O worthy Queen, rashness doth overthrow
The author of his resolution.
GISMUNDA. Where hope of help is lost, what booteth fear?
CHORUS 3. Fear will avoid the sting of infamy.
GISMUNDA. May good or bad reports delight the dead?
CHORUS 4. If of the living yet the dead have care.
GISMUNDA. An easy grief by counsel may be cur'd.
CHORUS 1. But headstrong mischiefs princes should avoid.
GISMUNDA. In headlong griefs and cases desperate?
CHORUS 2. Call to your mind, Gismund, you are the Queen.
GISMUNDA. Unhappy widow, wife, and paramour.
CHORUS 3. Think on the king.
GISMUNDA. The king, the tyrant king?
CHORUS 4. Your father.
GISMUNDA. Yes, the murtherer of my love.
CHORUS 4. His force.
GISMUNDA. The dead fear not the force of men.
CHORUS 1. His care and grief.
GISMUNDA. That neither car'd for me,
Nor grieved at the murther of my love.
My mind is settled; you with these vain words
Withhold me but too long from my desire.
Depart ye to my chamber.
CHORUS. We will haste
To tell the king hereof.
[CHORUS _depart into the palace_.