Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that, That may preserve life! This I swear to keep.
Lys. Look to him tho', and bear those bodies in. May this a fair example be to me,
To rule with temper: For, on lustful kings,
Unlooked-for, sudden deaths from heaven are
But curst is he, that is their instrument.
Enter THEODORET, BRUNHALT, and BAWDBER. Brun. Tax me with these hot taintures? Theod. You're too sudden;
I do but gently tell you what becomes you, And what may bend your honour; how these
Of loose and lazy pleasures, not suspected, Butdone and known; your mind that grants nolimit, And all your actions follow, which loose people, That see but through a mist of circumstance, Dare term ambitious; all your ways hide sores Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers. Your instruments like these may call the world, And with a fearful clamour, to examine Why, and to what we govern. From example,
If not for virtue's sake, you may be honest: There have been great ones, good ones, and 'tis necessary,
Because you are yourself, and by yourself, A self-piece from the touch of power and justice, You should command yourself. You may imagine (Which cozens all the world, but chiefly women) The name of greatness glorifies your actions; And strong power, like a pent-house, promises To shade you from opinion: Take heed, mother! And let us all take heed! these most abuse us: The sins we do people behold through optics, Which shew them ten times more than common
And often multiply them: Then what justice Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders, When we are thieves ourselves?
Brun. This is. Martell,
Within these ten days, take a monastery, A most strict house; a house where none may whisper,
Studied and penn'd unto you; whose base person, | (Your most intemperate fires have burnt) and I charge you by the love you owe a mother, And as you hope for blessings from her prayers, Neither to give belief to, nor allowance! Next, I tell you, sir, you, from whom obedience Is so far fled that you dare tax a mother, Nay, further, brand her honour with your slanders, And break into the treasures of her credit, Your easiness is abused, your faith freighted With lies, malicious lies; your merchant mis- chief;
He that ne'er knew more trade than tales, and tumbling
Suspicions into honest hearts: What you or he, Or all the world, dare lay upon my worth, This for your poor opinions! I am she, And so will bear myself, whose truth and whiteness Shall ever stand as far from these detections As you from duty. Get you better servants, People of honest actions, without ends, And whip these knaves away! they eat your fa-
And turn 'em unto poisons. My known credit, Whom all the courts o' this side Nile have envied, And happy she could cite me, brought in question, Now in my hours of age and reverence, When rather superstition should be rendered? And by a rush that one day's warmth Hath shot up to this swelling? Give me justice, Which is his life!
Theod. This is an impudence;
And he must tell you, that 'till now, mother, Brought you a son's obedience, and now breaks it Above the sufferance of a son.
For I do now begin to feel myself Tucking into a halter, and the ladder Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too. Theod. These truths are no man's tales, but all mens' troubles;
They are, though your strange greatness would out-stare 'em :
Witness the daily libels, almost ballads, In every place almost, in every province, Are made upon your lust; tavern discourses; Crowds cram'd with whispers; nay, the holy temples
Are not without your curses. Now you would blush;
But your black tainted blood dare not appear, For fear I should fright that too.
Theod. Do not abuse their names! they see your actions:
And your conceal'd sins, though you work like moles,
Lie level to their justice.
Brun. Art thou a son?
Theod. The more my shame is of so bad a mother,
And more your wretchedness you let me be so. But, woman, (for a mother's name hath left me, Since you have left your honour) mend these ruins,
And build again that broken fame; and fairly,
Where no more light is known but what may make you
Believe there is a day; where no hope dwells, Nor comfort but in tears-
Theod. And there to cold repentance, and starv'd penance,
Tie your succeeding days: Or curse me, Heaven, If all your gilded knaves, brokers, and bedders, Even he you built from nothing, strong Protaldye, Be not made ambling geldings! all your maids, If that name do not shame 'em, fed with spunges To suck away their rankness! and yourself Only to empty pictures and dead arras Offer your old desires!
Brun. I will not curse you, Nor lay a prophecy upon your pride, Though Heav'n might grant me both; unthankful,
nourish'd you; 'twas I, poor I, groan'd for you; 'Twas I felt what you suffer'd; I lamented When sickness or sad hours held back your sweetness;
'Twas I pay'd for your sleeps; I watch'd your
My daily cares and fears that rid, play'd, walk'd, Discours'd, discover'd, fed and fashion'd you To what you are; and am I thus rewarded?
Theod. But that I know these tears, I could dote on 'em,
And kneel to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em Into an armlet, ever to be honour'd: But, woman, they are dangerous drops, deceitful, Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature.
Brun. In my last hours despis'd? Theod. That text should tell How ugly it becomes you to err thus: Your flames are spent, nothing but smoke main- tains you;
And those your favour and your bounty suffers, Lie not with you, they do but lay lust on you, And then embrace you as they caught a palsy; Your power they may love, and like Spanish jennets
Commit with such a gust
Baw. I would take whipping, And pay a fine now!
Theod. But were you once disgrac'd, Or fall'n in wealth, like leaves they would fly
And become browse for every beast. You will'd me To stock myself with better friends, and servants; With what face dare you see me, or any mankind, That keep a race of such unheard-of relics, Bawds, lechers, leeches, female fornications, And children in their rudiments to vices, Old men to shew examples, and (lest Art Should lose herself in act) to call back Custom? Leave these, and live like Niobe! I told you how; And when your eyes have dropt away remembrance
Of what you were, I am your son: Perform it! [Exit. Brun. Am I a woman, and no more power in
To tie this tiger up? a soul to no end? Have I got shame, and lost my will? Brunhalt, From this accursed hour forget thou bor'st him, Or any part of thy blood gave him living! Let him be to thee an antipathy,
A thing thy nature sweats at, and turns backward:
Throw all the mischiefs on him that thyself, Or women worse than thou art, have invented, And kill him drunk, or doubtful!
Enter BAWDBER, PROTALDYE, and LECURE. Baw. Such a sweat
I never was in yet! clipt of my minstrels, My toys to prick up wenches withal? uphold me; It runs like snow-balls through me!
Brun. Now, my varlets,
My slaves, my running thoughts, my executions! Baw. Lord, how she looks! Brun. Hell take you all! Baw. We shall be gelt. Brun. Your mistress,
Your old and honour'd mistress, you tir'd curtals, Suffers for your base sins! I must be cloister'd, Mew'd up to make me virtuous: Who can help this?
Now you stand still, like statues! Come, Protaldye!
One kiss before I perish, kiss me strongly ! Another, and a third!
Lec. I fear not gelding,
As long as she holds this way.
Brun. The young courser,
Enter THEODORET, MARTELL, &c.
Theod. Tho' I assure myself, Martell, your counsel
Had no end but allegiance and my honour, Yet I am jealous, I have pass'd the bounds Of a son's duty: For, suppose her worse Than your report, not by bare circumstance But evident proof confirm'd, has given her out; Yet since all weaknesses in a kingdom are No more to be severely punish'd, than The faults of kings are, by the Thunderer, As oft as they offend, to be reveng'd; If not for piety, yet for policy, Since some are of necessity to be spar'd, I might, and now I wish I had not look'd With such strict eyes into her follies.
A duty well discharg'd is never follow'd By sad repentance; nor did your highness ever
That unlick'd lump of mine, will win thy mis- Make payment of the debt you ow'd her, better
Must I be chaste, Protaldye?
Prot. Thus, and thus, lady!
Than in your late reproofs, not of her, but Those crimes that made her worthy of reproof. The most remarkable point in which kings differ
Brun. It shall be so: Let him seek fools for From private men, is that they not alone
Here is my cloister.
Lec. But what safety, madam,
Find you in staying here?
Brun. Th'hast hit my meaning:
I will to Thierry, son of my blessings,
And there complain me, tell my tale so subtilly, That the cold stones shall sweat, and statues mourn;
And thou shalt weep, Protaldye, in my witness: And these forswear.
Baw. Yes; any thing but gelding! I am not yet in quiet, noble lady: Let it be done to-night, for without doubt To-morrow we are capons!
Brun. Sleep shall not seize me, Nor any food befriend me but thy kisses, Ere I forsake this desart. I live honest? He may as well bid dead men walk! I humbled, Or bent below my power? let night-dogs tear me, And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly, Ere I forsake my sphere!
Lec. This place you will.
Stand bound to be in themselves innocent, But that all such as are allied to them In nearness, or dependence, by their care Should be free from suspicion of all crime: And you have reap'd a double benefit From this last great act: First, in the restraint Of her lost pleasures you remove th' example From others of the like licentiousness; Then when 'tis known that your severity Extended to your mother, who dares hope for The least indulgence or connivance in The easiest slips that may prove dangerous To you, or to the kingdom?
Your reasons good, Martell, if, as she is My mother, she had been my subject, or That only here she could make challenge to A place of being: But I know her temper, And fear (if such a word become a king) That in discovering her, I have let loose A tigress, whose rage, being shut up in darkness, Was grievous only to herself; which, brought Into the view of light, her cruelty,
Provok'd by her own shame, will turn on him That foolishly presum'd to let her see The loath'd shape of her own deformity. Mart. Beasts of that nature, when rebellious threats
Begin to appear only in their eyes, Or any motion that may give suspicion Of the least violence, should be chained up; Their fangs and teeth, and all their means of hurt Par'd off, and knock'd out; and so made unable To do ill, they would soon begin to loath it. I'll apply nothing; but had your grace done, Or would do yet, what your less-forward zeal In words did only threaten, far less danger Would grow from acting it on her, than may Perhaps have being from her apprehension Of what may once be practis'd: For, believe it, Who, confident of his own power, presumes To spend threats on an enemy, that hath means To shun the worst they can effect, gives armour To keep off his own strength; nay, more, disarms Himself, and lies unguarded 'gainst all harms Or doubt or malice may produce.
And such a desperate cure I would have us'd, If the intemperate patient had not been So near me as a mother; but to her, And from me, gentle unguents only were To be applied: And as physicians, When they are sick of fevers, eat themselves Such viands as by their directions are Forbid to others, tho' alike diseas'd;
So she, considering what she is, may challenge Those cordials to restore her, by her birth And privilege, which at no suit must be Granted to others.
Mart. May your pious care
Effect but what it aim'd at! I am silent.
Into whose house (which was an academe, In which all principles of lust were practis'd) No soldier might presume to set his foot; At whose most blessed intercession All offices in the state were charitably Conferr'd on panders, o'er-worn, chamber-wrest→ lers,
And such physicians as knew how to kill With safety, under the pretence of saving, And such-like children of a monstrous peace; That she, I say, should at the length provide That men of war, and honest younger brothers, That would not owe their feeding to their cod- piece,
Should be esteem'd of more than moths or drones,
Or idle vagabonds.
Theod. I am glad to hear it;
Prithee what course takes she to do this? Vitry. One
That cannot fail: She and her virtuous train, Wi' her jewels, and all that was worthy the carrying,
The last night left the court; and, as 'tis more Then said, for 'tis confirm'd by such as met her, She's fled unto your brother.
Theod. How!
Vitry. Nay, storm not;
For if that wicked tongue of hers hath not Forgot its pace, and Thierry be a prince
Of such a fiery temper as report
Has given him out for, you shall have cause to use Such poor men as myself; and thank us too For coming to you, and without petitions: Pray Heav'n reward the good old woman for't! Mart. I foresaw this.
Theod. I hear a tempest coming,
That sings mine and my kingdom's ruin. Haste, And cause a troop of horse to fetch her back! Yet stay! why should I use means to bring in A plague, that of herself hath left me? Muster Our soldiers up! we'll stand upon our guard; For we shall be attempted. Yet forbear! The inequality of our powers will yield me Nothing but loss in their defeature: Something Must be done, and done suddenly. Save your labour!
In this I'll use no counsel but mine own : That course, tho' dangerous, is best. Command Our daughter be in readiness to attend us! Martell, your company; and, honest Vitry, Thou wilt along with me?
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