THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY AND THEODORET. The first edition of this Play was printed in quarto, 1621, without the name of either Author. The edition of 1648, ascribes it to Fletcher; and that of 1619, to both writers: Dr. Hyde, in the Bodleian Catalogue, assigns it to Ben Jonson, without any authority whatever. It was formerly performed frequently, but of late years has been entirely laid aside. • Tax me with these hot tainters?] Theobald would read, hot TAINTS. The oldest quarto exhibits tainturs; we therefore prefer taintures; and though we do not remember meeting with the word, it is more expressive of the sense of taints (here required) than tainters. Dare 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, [imagine You should command yourself. You may (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 thro' optics, Which shew them ten times more than common vices, And often multiply them: then what justice Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders, When we are thieves ourselves? Brun. This is Martell, [son, Studied and penn'd unto you; whose base perI charge you by the love you owe a mother, And as you hope for blessings from her He that ne'er knew more trade than tales, and tumbling Suspicions into honest hearts: what you or he, Shall ever stand as far from these detections And turn 'em unto poisons. My known credit, And happy she could cite me3, brought in Now in my hours of age and reverence, When rather superstition should be render'd? And by a rush that one day's warmth [tice, Hath shot up to this swelling? Give me jusWhich 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 Above the sufferance of a son. [breaks it, Baw. Bless us! For I do now begin to feel myself Theod. These truths are no man's tales, but all men's troubles; [out-stare 'em : They are, tho' your strange greatness would Witness the daily libels, almost ballads, In every place almost, in every provinces, Are made upon your lust; tavern discourses; Crowds cram'd with whispers; nay, the holy temples [blush; Are not without your curses. Now you would Brun. Oh, ye gods! [your actions: 2 Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers.] The ancient English poets were certainly not sufficiently cautious of properly accenting their verses, insomuch that it may be doubted whether they thought the rule of accenting the even syllables (viz. the second, fourth, sixth, eighth, and tenth) a necessary part of our measure. This line has the accent upon all the odd syllables, and, tho' the thought is poetry, it is not verse at all. Our authors indeed in general have such good ears, and this is so easily made right measure, that it may probably be a corruption, and the original have run, To nothing opening in the end but ulcers. See the rule above more fully explain'd, with the exception it admits, in a note in the first scene of Wit Without Money. Seward. 3 And happy she could site me.] Corrected in 1750, -feel myself Turning into a halter, and the ladder Turning from me.] Turning into a halter, is no very natural expression. The common word of being tuck'd in a halter, seems probably the true reading. Seward. 5 In every place, almost in every province.] Every place being much more minutely particular than every province, the almost seems improperly plac'd here. It is not very material, but rather more correct to read, In every place almost of every province; i. c. In every corner of every province of our kingdom. Seward. We apprehend the error to be merely in the punctuation, and the poet to have meant, in almost every place, in every province at least. And And your conceal'd sins, tho' you work like Lie level to their justice. [moles, [a mother, Theod. The more my shame is of so bad And more your wretchedness you let mé Brun. Art thou a son? be so. [me, But, woman (for a mother's name hath left Since you have left your honour), mend these ruins, And build again that broken fame; and fairly, (Your most inteinperate fires have burnt) and quickly, Within these ten days, take a monastery, A most strict house; a house where none may whisper, [make you Where no more light is known but what may Believe there is a day; where no hope dwells, Nor comfort but in tears Brun. Oh, misery! [starv'd penance, Theod. And there to cold repentance, and Tie your succeeding days: or curse me, hea ven, If all yourgilded knaves, brokers, and bedders, Even he you built from nothing, strong Protaldye, [maids, Be not made ambling geldings! all your 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, Tho' Heav'n might grant me both: unthankful, no! [you; I nourish'd you; 'twas I, poor I, groan'd for 'Twas I felt what you suffer'd; I lamented When sickness or sad hours held back your [wakings; 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 I am thus rewarded? Theod. But that I know these tears, I could dote on 'em, ['em And kneel to catch 'em as they fall, then knit Into an armlet, ever to be honour'd: [ful, But, woman, they are dangerous drops, deceitFull 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 maintains you; [fers, And those your favour and your bounty sufLie 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! Exit. Theod. But were you once disgrac'd, Or fall'n in wealth, like leaves they would fly from you, [will'd me And become browse for every beast. You To stock myself with better friends, and ser[kind, vants; With what face dare you see me, or any manThat 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; [brance And when your eyes have dropt away reinemOf what you were, I am your son: perform it! [Exit. Brun. Am I a woman, and no more power in me 'Twas I pay'd for your sleeps.] To watch another while he's sleeping, cannot simply be said to pay for his sleep; a metaphor of that nature would require a further explanation, as, I pay'd for your sleep at the price of my own watchings. As nothing of that nature appears, it is most probable that it is the mere omission of a letter, it is therefore restored, pray'd. Seward. 7 — your favour and your bounty suffers.] Seward conjectured we should read fosters; and Sympson succours; but suffers, in the sense of per its, is intelligible. That Brun. It shall be so: let him seek fools for 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, [tilly, And there complain me, tell my tale so subThat the cold stones shall sweat, and statues [ness; And thou shalt weep, Protaldye, in my witAnd these forswear. mourn; 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 food befriend me but thy kisses, any Ere I forsake this desart. I live honest? He may as well bid dead men walk! I humbled, [tear me, Or bent below my power? let night-dogs And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly, Ere I forsake my sphere! Lec. This place you will. Brun. What's that to you, or any, Ye dross, ye powder'd pigsbones, rhubarb clisters! you Must know my designs? a college of you The proverb makes but fools. Prot. But, noble lady- [not, Brun. You are a saucy ass too! Off I will If you but anger me, 'till a sow-gelder [me! Have cut you all like colts: hold me, and kiss For I am too much troubled. Make up my treasure, And get ine horses private; come, about it! SCENE II. [Exeunt. 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 Make payment of the debt you ow'd her, 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 From private men, is that they not alone Theod. I must grant Your reasons good, Martell, if, as she is ness Was grievous only to herself; which, brought 8 Will win thy mistress.] The word win does not seem very expressive, tho' as it bears some affinity to the courser in the former line, I shall not change it, but suppose it may mean, win her from her evil courses. Were a change necessary, we might use chain, confine (cutting off w in will), or ginn, perhaps the best word of all, and the nearest to the old reading, for the two first editions read winne Perhaps we should read, wean. Seward. 9 Ye doss.] Not finding doss in any glossary, I am forc'd to treat it as corrupt, and suppose dross or dolt to have been the original. 10 Than you report, not by bare circumstance, Seward. But evident proof confirm'd, has given her out.] The grammar seems deficient here, but it is easily cur'd two ways; the most probable I shall insert, but it might be, ness. Of her lost pleasures.] Lost might possibly be interpreted, abandon'd, lost to all goodBut as loose seems the natural word, it was probably the true one. Seward. Lost will certainly admit of Seward's first interpretation: it seems therefore arbitrary to change the text. That That foolishly presum'd to let her see Mart. Beasts of that nature, when rebel- 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, [unable Par'd off, and knock'd out; and so made 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 [mour To shun the worst they can effect, gives arTo keep off his own strength; nay, more, disarms Himself, and lies unguarded 'gainst all harms Or doubt or malice may produce. Theod. 'Tis true: And such a desperate cure I would have us'd, Those cordials to restore her, by her birth Mart. May your pious care The good old queen, your highness' reverend mother, Into whose house (which was an academe, In which all the principles of lust were prac tis'd) No soldier might presume to set his foot; And such physicians as knew how to kill That would not owe their feeding to their Theod. I am glad to hear it; 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 Than 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 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 though dangerous, is best. Command Our daughter be in readiness to attend us! Martell, your company! and honest Vitry, Thou wilt along with me? Vitry. Yes, any where; To be worse than I'm here, is past iny fear. 12 More than mothers or drones.] Corrected in 1750. [Exeunt, VOL. III. SL ACT |