Classic Poem

[SCENE III.]

THE CHURCHYARD .

Enter C HARLEMONT , — Borachio dogging him in the Churchyard. — The Clocke strikes twelue . Charl .

Twelue. Bor .

'Tis a good houre: 'twill strike one anon. Charl .

How fit a place for contemplation is this dead of night, among the dwellings of the dead — This graue. — Perhaps th' inhabitant was in his life time the possessour of his oune desires. Yet in the midd'st of all his greatnesse and his wealth he was lesse rich and lesse contented then in this poore piece of earth lower and lesser then a Cottage. For heere he neither wants, nor cares Now that his body sauours of corruption
H'enioyes a sweeter rest then e'er hee did
Amongst the sweetest pleasures of this life
For heere there's nothing troubles him — And there
— In that graue lies another. He, perhaps,
Was in his life as full of miserie
As this of happinesse. And here's an end
Of both. Now both their states are equall. O
That man with so much labour should aspire
To worldly height, when in the humble earth
The world's condition's at the best, or scorne
Inferiour men since to be lower than
A worme is to be higher then a King. Bora .

Then fall and rise. Charl .

What villaines hand was that?
Saue thee, or thou shalt perish. Bora .

Zownes! unsau'd
I thinke. Charl .

What? Haue I kill'd him? Whatsoe'er thou beest
I would thy hand had prosper'd. For I was
Unfit to liue and well prepar'd to die.
What shall I doe? Accuse my selfe? Submit
Me to the law? And that will quickly end
This violent encrease of miserie.
But 'tis a murther to be accessarie
To mine owne death. I will not. I will take
This opprtunitie to scape. It may
Be Heau'n reserues me to some better end.

Enter . S NUFFE and S OQUETTE into the Churchyard . Soqu .

Nay, good Sir, I dare not. In good sooth I come of a generation both by Father and Mother that were all as fruitfull as Costard mongers' wiues. Snu .

Tush then a Timpanie is the greatest danger can be fear'd. Their fruitfulnesse turnes but to a certaine kind of flegmatique windie disease. Soqu .

I must put my understanding to your trust, Sir I would be loath to be deceiu'd. Snu .

No, conceiue thou sha't not. Yet thou shalt profit by my instruction too. My bodie is not euery day drawne dry, wench. Soqu .

Yet mee thinkes, Sir, your want of use should rather make your body like a Well, — the lesser 'tis drawne, the sooner it growes dry. Snu .

Thou shalt try that instantly. Soqu .

But we want place and opportunity. Snu .

We haue both. This is the backe side of the House which the superstitious call Saint Winifred's Church, and is verily a conuenient unfrequented place. —
Where under the close Curtaines of the night — Soqu .

You purpose i' the darke to make me light.

But what ha' you there? Snu .

This disguise is for securitie's sake, wench. There's a talke, tou know'st that the Ghoast of olde Montferrers walks. In this Church he was buried. Now if any stranger fall upon us before our businesse be ended, in this disguise I shall be taken for that Ghoast, and neuer be call'd to examination, I warrant thee. Thus wee shall scape both preuention and discouerie. How doe I looke in this habite, wench? Soq .

So like a Ghoast that notwithstanding I haue some foreknowledge of you, you make my haire stand almost on end. Snu .

I will try how I can kisse in this beard. — O fie, fie, fie. I will put it off and then kisse, and then put it on. I can doe the rest without kissing.

Enter C HARLEMONI doubtfully with his sword drawne; is upon them before they are aware. They runne out diuers waies, and leaue the disguise . Charl .

What ha' wee heere? a Sheete! a haire! a beard!
What end was this disguise intended for?
No matter what. I'le not expostulate
The purpose of a friendly accident.
Perhaps it may accommodate my 'scape.
— — I feare I am pursued. For more assurance.
I'le hide me heere i' th' Charnell house,
This convocation-house of dead men's sculles.

Death's head, deceiu'st my hold?
Such is the trust to all mortalitie.

Enter D' AMVILIE and C ASIABELLA . Casta .

My Lord, the night growes late. Your Lordship spake
Of something you desir'd to moue in priuate. D'am .

Yes. Now Ile speake it. Th' argument is loue.
The smallest ornament of thy sweet forme
(That abstract of all pleasure) can command
The sences into passion and thy entire
Perfection is my obiect, yet I loue thee
With the freedome of my reason. I can giue
Thee reason for my loue. Casta .

Loue me, my Lord?
I doe bleeue it, for I am the wife
Of him you loue. D'am .

'Tis true. By my perswasion thou wert forc'd
To marrie one unable to performe
The office of a Husband. I was author
Of the wrong.
My conscience suffers under 't, and I would
Disburthen it by satisfaction. Casta .

How? D'am .

I will supply that pleasure to thee which he cannot. Casta .

Are y' a diuell or a man? D'am .

A man, and such a man as can returne
Thy entertainment with as prodigall
A body as the couetous desire,
Or woman euer was delighted with.
So that, besides the full performance of
Thy empty Husband's dutie, thou shalt haue
The joy of children to continue the
Succession of thy bloud. For the appetite
That steales her pleasure drawes the forces of
The body to an united strength and puts 'em
Altogether into action, neuer failes
Of procreation. All the purposes
Of man aime but at one of these two ends
Pleasure or profit; and in this one sweet
Coniunction of our loues they both will meete.
Would it not grieue thee that a Stranger to
Thy bloud should lay the first foundation of
His house upon the ruines of thy family? Casta .

Now Heau'n defend me! May my memorie
Be utterly extinguish'd, and the heire
Of him that was my Father's enemie
Raise his eternall monument upon
Our ruines, ere the greatest pleasure or
The greatest profit euer tempt me to
Continue it by incest. D'am .

Incest? Tush!
These distances affinitie obserues
Are articles of bondage cast upon
Our freedomes by our owne objections
Nature allowes a gen'rall libertie
Of generation to all creatures else.
Shall man
To whose command and use all creatures were
Made subject be lesse free then they? Casta .

O God!
Is Thy unlimited and infinite
Omnipotence lesse free because thou doest
No ill?
Or if you argue meerely out of nature
Doe you not degenerate from that, and are
You not unworthie the prerogatiue
Of Nature's Maisterpiece, when basely you
Prescribe your selfe authoritie and law
From their examples whom you should command?
I could confute you, but the horror of
The argument confutes my understanding. —
Sir, I know you do but try me in
Your Sonne's behalfe, suspecting that
My strength
And youth of bloud cannot containe themselues
With impotence. — — Beleeue me, Sir,
I neuer wrong'd him. If it be your lust,
O quench it on their prostituted flesh
Whose trade of sinne can please desire with more
Delight and lesse offence. — — The poyson o' your breath,
Euaporated from so foule a soule,
Infects the ayre more than the dampes that rise
From bodies but halfe rotten in their graues. D'am .

Kisse me. I warrant thee my breath is sweet.
These dead men's bones lie heere of purpose to
Inuite us to supply the number of
The liuing. Come, we'l get young bones, and doe't
I will enioy thee. No? Nay then inuoke
Your great suppos'd protectour; I will doe't. Casta .

Suppos'd protectour! Are y' an Atheist? Then
I know my prayers and teares are spent in vaine.
O patient Heau'n! Why dost thou not expresse
Thy wrath in thunder-bolts to teare the frame
Of man in pieces? How can earth endure
The burthen of this wickednesse without
An earthquake? Or the angry face of Heau'n
Be not enflam'd with lightning? D'am .

Coniure up
The Diuell and his Dam: crie to the graues:
The dead can heare thee: inuocate their help. Casta .

O would this Graue might open and my body
Were bound to the dead carkasse of a man
For euer, ere it entertaine the lust
Of this detested villaine! D'am .

Tereus-like
Thus I will force my passage to — — Charl .

The Diuell.

Now, Lady, with the hand of Charlemont
I thus redeeme you from the arme of lust.
— — My Castabella! Casta .

My deare Charlemont! Charl .

For all my wrongs I thanke thee, gracious Heau'n,
Th'ast made me satisfaction to reserue
Me for this blessed purpose. Now, sweet Death,
I'le bid thee welcome. Come, Ile guide thee home,
And then Ile caste my selfe into the armes
Of apprehension, that the law may make
This worthie worke the crowne of all my actions,
Being the best and last. Casta .

The last? The law?
Now Heau'n forbid! What ha' you done? Charl .

Why, I have
Kill'd a man; not murder'd him, my Castabella
He would ha' murder'd me. Casta .

Then Charlemont
The hand of Heau'n directed thy defence
That wicked Atheist! I suspect his plot. Charl .

My life he seekes. I would he had it since
He has depriu'd mee of those blessings that
Should make mee loue it. Come, Ile giue it him. Casta .

You sha' not. I will first expose my selfe.
To certaine danger than for my defence
Destroy the man that sau'd mee from destruction. Charl .

Thou canst not satisfie me better than
To be the instrument of my release
From miserie. Casta.

Then worke it by escape.
Leaue mee to this protection that still guards
The innocent. Or I will be a partner
In your destinie. Charl .

My soule is heauie. Come, lie downe to rest;
These are the pillowes whereon men sleepe best.

Enter S NUFFE seeking S OQUETTE. Snu .

Soquette, Soquette, Soquette! O art thou there?
Verily thou lyest in a fine premeditated readinesse for the purpose. Come kisse me, sweet Soquette. — Now puritie defend me from the Sinne of Sodom — This is a creature of the masculine gender. — Verily the Man is blasted —
Yea, cold and stiffe! — Murder, murder, murder;

Enter D' AMVILLE distractedly: starts at the sight of a Death's head . D'am .

Why dost thou stare upon me? Thou art not
The soull of him I murder'd. What hast thou
To doe to vexe my conscience? Sure thou wert
The head of a most dogged Usurer,
Th'art so uncharitable. And that Bawde
The skie there: she could shut the windowes and
The dores of this great chamber of the world,
And draw the curtaines of the clouds betweene
Those lights and me, above this bed of Earth
When that same Strumpet Murder and my selfe
Committed sin together. Then she could
Leaue us i' the darke till the close deed was done
But now that I begin to feele the loathsome horrour of my sinne, and, like a Leacher emptied of his lust, desire to burie my face under my eyebrowes, and would steale from my shame unseene, she meetes me
I' the face with all her light corrupted eyes
To challenge payment o' mee. — O beholde!
Yonder's the Ghoast of olde Montferrers, in
A long white sheete climbing you loftie mountaine
To complaine to Heau'n of me. —
Montferrers! pox o' fearefulnesse! Tis nothing
But a faire white cloude. Why, was I borne a coward?
He lies that sayes so. Yet the count'nance of
A bloudlesse worme might ha' the courage now
To turne my bloud to water.
The trembling motion of an Aspen leafe
Would make me like the shadow of that leafe,
Lie shaking under 't. I could now commit
A murder were it but to drinke the fresh
Warme bloud of him I murder'd to supply
The want and weakenesse o' mine owne,
'Tis growne so colde and flegmaticke. Lang .

Murder, murder, murder! D'am .

Mountaines o'erwhelme mee: the Ghoast of olde Montferrers haunts me. Lang .

Murder, murder, murder! D'am

O were my body circumuolu'd
Within that cloude, that when the thunder teares
His passage open, it might scatter me
To nothing in the ayre!

Enter L ANGUEBEAU S NUFFE with the Watch . Lang .

Here you shall finde
The murder'd body. D'am .

Black Beelzebub,
And all his hell-hounds, come to apprehend me? Lang .

No, my good Lord, wee come to apprehend
The murderer. D'am .

The Ghoast (great Pluto!) was
A foole unfit to be employed in
Any serious businesse for the state of hell
Why could not he ha' suffer'd me to raise
The mountaines o' my sinnes with one as damnable
As all the rest, and then ha' tumbled me
To ruine? But apprehend me e'en betweene
The purpose and the act before it was
Committed! Watch .

Is this the murderer? He speakes suspitiously. Lang .

No verily. This is my Lord D'amville. And his distraction, I thinke, growes out of his griefe for the losse of a faithfull seruant. For surely I take him to be Borachio that is slaine. D'am .

Hah! Borachio slaine? Thou look'st like Snuffe, dost not? Lang .

Yes, in sincerity, my Lord. D'am .

Harke thee? — Sawest thou not a Ghoast? Lang .

A Ghoast? Where, my Lord? — I smell a Foxe. D'am .

Heere i' the Churchyard. Lang .

Tush! tush! their walking Spirits are meere imaginarie fables. There's no such thing in rerum natura . Heere is a man slaine. And with the Spirit of consideration I rather think him to be the murderer got into that disguise then any such phantastique toy. D'am .

My braines begin to put themselves in order. I apprehend thee now. — 'Tis e'en so. — Borachio, I will search the Center, but Ile finde the murderer. Watch .

Heere, heere, heere. D'am .

Stay. Asleepe? so soundly
So sweetly upon Death's Heads? and in a place
So full of feare and horrour? Sure there is
Some other happinesse within the freedome
Of the conscience then my knowledge e'er attain'd to. — Ho, ho, ho! Charl .

Y'are welcome, Uncle. Had you sooner come
You had beene sooner welcome. I'm the Man
You seeke. You sha' not neede examine me. D'am .

My Nephew and my Daughter! O my deare
Lamented bloud, what Fate has cast you thus
Unhappily upon this accident? Charl .

You know, Sir, she's as cleare as Chastitie. D'am .

As her owne chastitie. The time, the place,
All circumstances argue that uncleare. Casta .
Sir, I confesse it; and repentantly
Will undergoe the selfe same punishment
That Justice shall inflict on Charlemont. Charl .

Unjustly she betrayes her innocence. Watch .

But, Sir, she's taken with you and she must
To prison with you. D'am .

There's no remedie.
Yet were it not my Sonnes bed she abus'd
My land should flie, but both should be excus'd.