Classic Poem

ACT V. SCENE 1.

A Room in sir John Belfare's House .

Enter BELFARE .

Bel. Whither art fled, Gratiana? that I can
Converse with none to tell me thou art still
A mortal? taken hence by miracle?
Though angels should entice her hence to heaven,
She was so full of piety to her father,
She would first take her leave.

Enter ISAAC and a Physician.

Isaac . There he is, sir: he cannot choose but talk idly, for he has not slept since the last great mist.
Phys. Mist?
Isaac. Ay, sir, his daughter, my young mistress, went away in't, and we can hear no tale nor tidings of her: to tell you true, I would not disgrace my old master, but he is little better than mad.
Phys. Unhappy gentleman!
Bel. 'Tis so; he murder'd her;
For he that first would rob her of her honour,
Would not fear afterward to kill Gratiana;
He shall be arraign'd for't, — but where shall we
Get honest men enow to make a jury,
That dare be conscionable when the judge
Looks on, and frowns upon the verdict? men
That will not be corrupted to favour
A great man's evidence, but prefer justice
To ready money? Oh, this age is barren. —
Isaac . You hear how he talks.
Bel. But I have found the way; 'tis but procuring
Acquaintance with the foreman of the jury,
The sessions' bell weather, he leads the rest
Like sheep; when he makes a gap, they follow
In huddle, to his sentence.
Isaac . Speak to him, sir.
Phys. God save you, sir John Belfare!
Bel. I am a little serious — do not trouble me.
Phys. Do you not know me?
Bel. I neither know, nor care for you, unless
You can be silent.
Phys. I'm your neighbour.
Isaac . Master doctor. —
Bel. Away, fool!
Isaac . No, sir, a physician.
Bel. A physician? can you cure my daughter?
Phys. Ay, sir; where is she?
Bel. Can not you find her out by art? a good
Physician should be acquainted with the stars:
Prithee, erect a figure, grave astronomer,
Shalt have the minute she departed; turn
Thy ephemerides a little; I'll lend
Thee Ptolemy, and a nest of learned rabbis,
To judge by: tell me whether she be alive
Or dead, and thou shalt be my doctor; I'll
Give thee a round per annum pension,
And thou shalt kill me for it.
Phys. He has a strange delirium.
Isaac . Ay, sir.
Phys. A vertigo in's head.
Isaac . In his head?
Bel. What says the raven?
Isaac . He says you have two hard words in your head, sir.
Phys. Have you forgot me, sir? I was but late
Familiar to your knowledge.
Bel. Ha?
Your pardon, gentle sir: I know you now;
Impute it to my grief; it hath almost made me
Forget myself.
Phys. I come to visit you,
And cannot but be sorry to behold
You thus afflicted.
Bel. Doctor, I am sick,
I'm very sick at heart; loss of my daughter,
I fear, will make me mad; how long d' ye think
Man's nature's able to resist it? Can
Your love or art prescribe your friend a cordial?
No no, you cannot.
Phys. Sir, be comforted,
We have our manly virtue given us
To exercise in such extremes as these.
Bel. As these? why, do you know what 'tis to lose
A daughter? you converse with men that are
Diseas'd in body; punish'd with a gout
Or fever: yet some of these are held
The shames of physic; but to the mind you can
Apply no salutary medicine:
My daughter, sir, my daughter. —
Phys. Was to blame
To leave you so; lose not your wisdom for
Your daughter's want of piety.
Bel. Speak well
O' the dead, for living she would not be absent
Thus from me; she was ever dutiful,
Took pleasure in obedience: oh, my child!
But I have strong suspicion by whom
She's made away — Beauford —
Phys. How?
Bel. He that pretended marriage — he gave her
A wound before.
Phys. Master Beauford's newly
Apprehended for some fact, and carried
'Fore justice Landby; in my passage hither
I met him guarded.
Bel. Guarded! for what?
Phys. Some did whisper he had kill'd —
Bel. Gratiana.
Oh my girl, my Gratiana! — Isaac, Beauford is taken, 'tis apparent he hath slain my daughter, and shall not I revenge her death? I'll prosecute the law with violence against him; not leave the judge till he pronounce his sentence; then I'll die, and carry Gratiana the news before him. Follow me.

SCENE II.

A Room in justice Landby's House .

Enter justice LANDBY and Jane .

Just. L. I expect, Jane, thou wilt reward my care
With thy obedience; he's young and wealthy,
No matter for those idle ceremonies
Of wit and courtship.
Jane . Do I hear my father?
Just. L. He will maintain thee gallant; city wives
Are fortune's darlings, govern all their husbands,
Variety of pleasure, and apparel,
When some of higher titles are oft feign
To pawn a ladyship: thou shalt have Rawbone.
Jane . Virtue forbid it; you are my father, sir,
And lower than the earth I have a heart
Prostrates itself; I had my being from you,
But, I beseech you, take it not away
Again by your severity.
Just. L. How's this? — I like it well.
Jane . You have read many lectures to me, which
My duty hath received, and practised, as
Precepts from heaven; but never did I hear
You preach so ill: you heretofore directed
My study to be careful of my fame,
Cherish desert, plant my affection on
Nobleness, which can only be sufficient
To make it fruitful, and do you counsel now
To marry a disease?
Just. L. Good! my own girl. —
What is't you said? ha?
Jane . For the man himself
Is such a poor and miserable thing —
Just. L. But such another word and I take off
My blessing: how now, Jane?
Jane . [ aside .] — Alas! I fear
He is in earnest. — Marry me to my grave,
To that you shall have my consent; oh do not
Enforce me to be guilty of a false
Vow, both to heaven and angels; on my knees —
Just. L. Humble your heart; rise, and correct your sullenness,
I am resolv'd; would you be sacrificed
To an unthrift, that will dice away his skin,
Rather than want to stake at ordinaries?
Consume what I have gather'd, at a breakfast
Or morning's draught? and when you have teem'd for him,
Turn sempstress to find milk and clouts for babies?
Foot stockings to maintain him in the Compter?
Or, if this fail, erect a bawdy citadel,
Well mann'd, which fortified with demi-cannon,
Tobacco-pipes, may raise you to a fortune,
Together with the trade.
Jane . Oh, my cruel stars!
Just. L. Star me no stars, I'll have my will.
Jane . One minute
Hath ruin'd all my hope; Milliscent
Was cruel thus to mock me.

Enter HAVER and RAWBONE , disguised as before;
captain LANDBY , LODAM , and CAMELION .

Capt. L. Uncle —
Raw. Jasper, what case am I in?
Hav. Be wise, and keep your counsel, is not all for your honour?
Lod. Lady, I hope by this time you are able to distinguish a difference between Rawbone and myself.
Jane . I find little.
Capt. L. You shall do nobly, sir.
Just. L. Master Rawbone, the only man in my wishes:
My nephew gives you valiant, your merit
O'erjoys me, and to shew how much I value
Your worth, my daughter's yours, I'll see you
Married this morning, ere we part; receive him
Into your bosom, Jane, or lose me ever.
Jane . I obey, sir: — Will my father cozen himself?
Hav. Ha, do I dream?
Raw. Dream, quotha? this is a pretty dream.
Just. L. Master Lodam, I hope you'll not repine at his fortune.
Raw. But Rawbone will pine, and repine, if this be not a dream.
Lod. I allow it, and will dine with you.
Cam. And I.
Raw. Jasper! no? will nobody know me?
Just. L. Let's lose no time, I have no quiet till
I call him son.
Raw. Master justice, do me right;
You do not know who I am — I am —
Just. L. An ass, sir, are you not? what make you prattling?
Raw. Sir — —
Noble captain, a word, I am —
Capt. L. A coxcomb. —
Your man is saucy, sir.
Raw. Then I am asleep.
Capt. L. I forget Gratiana.
Just. L. Cousin, you shall supply my place at church, while I prepare for your return, some guests we must have — nay, nay, haste, the morn grows old, we'll ha't a Wedding-day.
Hav. Here's a blessing beyond hope.
Raw. Sure I am asleep, I will e'en walk with them till my dream be out.

Enter BEAUFORD , Officers, MARWOOD disguised ,
Park-Keeper, and GRATIANA .

Just. L. Master Beauford, welcome, and Gratiana.
Beau. You will repent your courtesy, I am
Presented an offender to you.
Offi. Yes, and please your worship, he is accus'd.
Gra. Sir, you have charity, believe them not;
They do conspire to take away his life.
Keep. May it please you understand he has kill'd
A gentleman, one Marwood, in our park;
I found him wounded mortally, though before
He died, he did confess —
Beau. Urge it no farther,
I'll save the trouble of examination,
And yield myself up guilty.
Gra. For heaven's sake
Believe him not; he is an enemy
To his own life. — Dear Beauford, what d'ye mean
To cast yourself away? you are more unmerciful
Than those that do accuse you, than the law
Itself; for at the worst that can but find
You guilty at the last, too soon for me
To be divided from you.
Beau. Oh, Gratiana! I call heaven to witness;
Though my misfortune made me think before
My life a tedious and painful trouble,
My very soul a luggage, and too heavy
For me to carry, now I wish to live,
To live for thy sake, till my hair were silver'd
With age; to live till thou wouldst have me die,
And wert aweary of me; for I never
Could by the service of one life reward
Enough thy love, nor by the suffering
The punishment of age and time, do penance
Sufficient for my injury; but my fate
Hurries me from thee; then accept my death
A satisfaction for that sin I could not
Redeem alive; I cannot but confess
The accusation.

Enter BELFARE and ISAAC .

Bel. Justice, justice! I will have justice:
Ha, Gratiana!
Gra. Oh, my dear father — —
Bel. Art alive! oh my joy! it grows
Too mighty for me, I must weep a little
To save my heart.
Isaac . My young mistress alive!
Gra. If ever you lov'd Gratiana, plead for Beauford,
He's been abused by a villain, all's discover'd,
We have renew'd hearts, and now, I fear, I shall
Lose him again, accused here for the death
Of Marwood, that was cause of all our suffering.
Bel. I have not wept enough for joy, Gratiana,
That thou'rt alive yet — I understand nothing
Beside this comfort.
Gra. Dear sir, recollect,
And second me.
Just. L. The fact confess'd, all hope
Will be a pardon, sir, may be procur'd:
Sir John — you're come in a sad time.
Gra. What is the worst you charge him with?
Keep. He has slain a gentleman.
Just. L. No common trespass.
Gra. He has done justice.
Just. L. How?
Gra. A public benefit to his country in't.
Just. L. Killing a man? her sorrow overthrows
Her reason.
Gra. Hear me, Marwood was a villain,
A rebel unto virtue, a profaner
Of friendship's sacred laws, a murderer
Of virgin chastity, against whose malice
Not innocence could hope protection;
But, like a bird grip'd by an eagle's talon,
It groaning dies.
What punishment can you inflict on him,
That, in contempt of nature, and religion,
Enforces breach of love, of holy vows?
Sets them at war whose hearts were married
In a full congregation of angels?
I know you will not say but such deserve
To die; yet Marwood being dead, you reach
Your fury to his heart that did this benefit!
Beau. Oh, Gratiana! if I may not live
To enjoy thee here, I would thou hadst been dead
Indeed, for in a little time we should
Have met each other in another world:
But since I go before thee, I will carry
Thy praise along; and if my soul forget not
What it hath lov'd, when it convers'd with men,
I will so talk of thee among the blest,
That they shall be in love with thee, and descend
In holy shapes, to woo thee to come thither,
And be of their society; do not veil thy beauty
With such a shower; keep this soft rain
To water some more lost and barren garden,
Lest you destroy the spring, which nature made
To be a wonder in thy cheek.
Just. L. Where is Marwood's body?
Mar. [ throwing off his disguise .] — Here, sir.
Omnes . Alive!
Mil. Ha! Marwood?
Mar. Alive, as glad to see thee, as thou art
To know thy self acquitted for my death;
Which I of purpose, by this honest friend,
To whose cure I owe my life, made you believe,
T' increase our joy at meeting; for you, lady,
You are a woman — yet you might have been
Less violent in your pleading, do not engage
Me past respects of mine, or your own honour.
Gra. Mine is above thy malice; I have a breast
Impenetrable, 'gainst which, thou fondly aiming,
Thy arrows but recoil into thy bosom,
And leave a wound.
Beau. Friend, we have found thy error.
Mar. Let it be mine, we have had storms already.
Gra. Tell me, injurious man, for in this presence
You must acquit the honour you accus'd,
Discharge thy poison here, inhuman traitor!
Beau. Thou wilt ask her forgiveness, she's all chastity.
Mar. Why do you tempt me thus?
Bel. It was ill done, sir.
Just. L. Accuse her to her face.
Mar. So, so: you see I am silent still.
Gra. You are too full of guilt to excuse your treachery.
Mar. Then farewell, all respects, and hear me tell
This bold and insolent woman, that so late
Made triumph in my death.
Mil. Oh, sir, proceed not,
You do not declare yourself of generous birth,
Thus openly to accuse a gentlewoman,
Were it a truth.
Gra. He may throw soil at heaven,
And as soon stain it.
Mar. Sirrah boy, who made you
So peremptory? — He would be whipp'd.
Mil. With what? I am not arm'd,
You see, but your big language would not fright
My youth, were it befriended with a sword;
You should find then I would dare to prove it
A falsehood on your person.
Just. L. How now, Milliscent?
Mar. Hath my love made me thus ridiculous,
Beauford, that [thou] wil[t] suffer such a boy
To affront me? then, against all the world
I rise an enemy, and defy his valour
Dares justify Gratiana virtuous.

Re-enter ISAAC with CARDONA .

Isaac . Believe your eyes.
Car. My daughter alive?
Oh, my dear heart!
Mar. You are come opportunely,
Cardona; speak the truth, as thou wouldst not
Eat my poniard; is not Gratiana
A sinful woman?
Car. What means Marwood, ha?
Bel. I am in a labyrinth.
Car. Hold! I confess —
You never did enjoy Gratiana.
Mar. Ha!
Car. Let not our shame be public, sir, you shall
Have the whole truth; oh, that my tears were able
To wash my sin away — won with your promises,
I did, in hope to make myself a fortune,
And get a husband for my child, with much
Black oratory, woo my daughter to
Supply Gratiana's bed, whom, with that
Circumstance, you enjoy'd, that you believed
It was the virgin you desired.
Bel. Is't possible?
Mar. I am all a confusion; where's this daughter?
Car. She, with the fear (as I conceive) of her
Dishonour, taking a few jewels with her,
Went from me, I know not whither, by this time
Dead, if not more unhappy in her fortune.
Mar. Into how many sins hath lust engaged me?
Is there a hope you can forgive, and you,
And she whom I have most dishonour'd:
I never had a conscience till now,
To be griev'd for her; I will hide myself
From all the world.
Mil. Stay, sir. —
Gra. You hear this, Beauford, father —
Beau. This she confess'd to me, though I conceal'd
From thee the error: Marwood dead, their shame
Would not have given my life advantage; now
We have o'ercome the malice of our fate,
I hope you'll call me son.
Bel. Both my loved children.
Just. L. I congratulate your joy.
Mar. Beauford, gentlemen,
This is a woman: Lucibel, your daughter,
The too much injured maid: oh, pardon me!
Welcome both to my knowledge, and my heart.
Car. Oh my child,
Just. L. My servant prove a woman!
Bel. You'll marry her?
Mar. It shall begin my recompense:
Lead you to church, we'll find the priest more work.
Just. L. He has done some already, for by this time
I have a daughter married to young Haver,
That walk'd in Rawbone's livery, — they're return'd.

Re-enter captain LANDBY , HAVER , Jane , LODAM ,
RAWBONE and CAMELION

Hav. Father, your pardon, though you meant me not
Your son, yet I must call your daughter wife:
Here I resign my citizen.
Bel. Young Haver!
Just. L. My blessing on you both!
I meant it so: a letter took off this
Disguise before: nay, here are more couples
Enow to play at barley-break.
Raw. Master Lodam, you and I are in hell.
Lod. How?
Hav. You and I are friends.
Lod. I knew by instinct I had no quarrel to thee;
Art thou Rawbone?
Raw. I am not drunk.
Lod. No, but thou art disguis'd shrewdly.
Raw. I will not believe I am awake:
This is not possible.
Beau. Leave off to wonder, captain.
Capt. L. Sure this is a dream.
Raw. As sure as you are there, captain; alas! we do but walk and talk in our sleep all this while.
Bel. Away, away!
Lod. Ay, to dinner, bullies.
Raw. Do you hear, gentlemen, before you go, does no body know me, who am I? who am I?
Just. L. You are master Rawbone, sir, that would have married my daughter, that is now wife, I take, to this gentleman, your seeming servant.
Raw. Dream on, dream on. Jasper, make much o' the wench, now thou hast got her: am not I finely gull'd?
Hav. I think so.
Raw. Dream on together, a good jest, i' faith; he thinks all this is true, now.
Capt. L. Are not you then awake, sir?
Raw. No, marry am I not, sir.
Capt. L. What d'ye think o' that, sir?
Raw. That, sir? now do I dream that I am kick'd.
Capt. L. You do not feel it, then?
Raw. Kick, kick your hearts out.
Lod. Say you so? let my foot be in too, then.
Raw. Sure I shall cry out in my sleep — what a long night 'tis!
Bel. Set on.
Capt. L. Ay, we may come back, and take him napping.
Beau. Come, Gratiana,
My soul's best half, let's tie the sacred knot,
So long deferr'd. Never did two lovers
Meet in so little time so many changes:
Our WEDDING-DAY is come, the sorrow's past
Shall give our present joy more heavenly taste.