Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub

But what shall curse and crucify thee, feel in Suffer'd by blasted virtue to be scatter'd: thyself

[science, I am the fruitful inother of these angers, Nothing but what thou art, bane and bad con- And what such have done, read, and know 'Till this man rest; but for whose reverence,

Thi. Heav'n forgive you !

[thy ruin ! Because thou art his mother, I would say, Mart. She tells you true; for millions of Whore, this shall be! Do you nod? I'll waken hier inischiefs With my sword's point.

[you Are now apparent: Protaldye we have taken, Brun. I wish no more of Ileaven,

An equal agent with her, to whose care, Nor liope no more, but'a sufficient anger After the damn'd defeat on you, she trusted To torture thee!

Enter Messenger.
Mart. See, sbe that makes you see, sir!
And, to vour misery, still see your mother,

The bringing-in of Leonor the bastard,
The mother of your woes, sir, of your waking,

Son to your murder'd brother: her physician The mother of your people's cries and curses, By this time is attach'd to that damu'd devil. Your murdering mother, your malicious mo

Mess, 'Tis like he will be so; for ere we ther!

[hour now!

caine, Thi. Physicians, half my state to sleep an

Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs, Is it so, mother?

He drench'd himself. Brun. Yes, it is so, son;

Brun. lle did like one of mine then! And, were it yet again to do, it should be. Thi. Must I still see these miseries? no Murt. She nods again; swinge her66 ! night

fdye Thi. But, mother,

To hide me from their horrors? That Protal(For yet I love that reverence, and to death See justice fall upon! Dare not forget you have been so) was this,

Brun. Now I could sleep too. [the lady, This endless misery, this cureless malice,

Murt. I'll give you yet more poppy: bring This snatching from me allıny youth together,

Enter Ordella. All that you made me for, and happy mothers, Crown'd with eternal tiine are proud to finish, And I leav'n in her embraces give bim quiet67! Done by your will?

Mada'ı), unveil yourself. Brun. It was, and by that will

Ord. I do forgive you;

[for you. Thi. Oh, mother, do not lose your name!

And tho' you s jaght my blood, yet I'll pray forget not

Brun. Art thou alive? The touch of Nature in you, tenderness! Alart. Now could you sleep? 'Tis all the soul ot' woman, all the sweetness: Brun. For ever.

(or quiet, Forget not, I beseech you, what are children, Mart. Go carry her without wink of sleep, Nor how you have groau'd for thein; to what Where her strong knave Protałdye's broke o' love

th' wheel, They are born inheritors, with what care kept; And let lois cries and roars be musick to her! And, as they rise to ripeness, still remember I mean to waken her. How they imp out your age! and when time Thi. Do her no wrong!

Murt. Nor right6s, as you love justice! That as an autumn fower you fall, forget not Brun. I will think; How round about your hearse they hang, like

And if there be new curses in old nature, Brun. Holy fool,

[penons ! I have a soul dare send them! Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has

Mart. keep her waking! [Erit Brun. kill'd thee,

Thi. What's that appears so sweetly? Preach not to me of punishments or fears, There's that face-Or what I ought to be; but what I am,

Mart. Be moderate, lady! I woman in her liberal will defeated,

Thi. That angel's faceIn all hergreatness cross'd, in pleasure blasted! Murt. Go nearer.

[soul My angers h:1ve been laughid at, my ends Thi. Martell, I cannot last long ! See the slighted,

(tunes, (I see it perfectly) of my Ordella, And all those glories that had crown'd my for- The heav'nly figure of ber sweetness, there!

66 Swing her.] Former editions. Swinge, which properly signifies to beat with rods, is probably the true word. Seward.

67 And Heav'n in her embraces give him quiet.] The editors of 1750 pretend to have amended this passage by substitutiog give for gives. So, p. 438, 1st col. I. 18, to have altered promise to promises ; p. 439, 2d col, l. 15, letches to leeches; p. 451, 2d col. I. 24, - keeping to keep; same p. and col. I. 27, ye to eye ; p. 454, 1st col. 1. 40, my to ihy; p. 469,

1st col. I. 17, praises to prayers; and p. 449, ist col. I. 40, to have placed the name Martell as being spoken to, instead of as speaker. The quarto is right in all.

68 Vor right. This seems corrupt. The context requires, DO HER right, or something to that eifect. If not corrupt, it may, by a licentious construction, be interpreted, “Shew her no favour.'

Forgive

8 0 2

calls you,

[ocr errors]

a

to see

Forgive me, gods! it comes! Divinest sub- Mess. Brunhalt, iinpatient of her constraint stance!

(sex, Kneel, kneel, kneel, every one! Saint of thy Proraldye tortur'd, has choak'd herself. If it be for my cruelty thou comest

Mart. No more!
Do ye see her, hoa!

Her sins go with her!
Niurt. Yes, sir; and you shall know her. Thi. Love I must die; I faint:
Thi. Downl, down again! To be reveng’d Close up my glasses!
for blood !

1 Doctor. The queen faints too, and deadly, Sweet spirit, I am ready. She smiles on me! Thi. One dying kiss ! Oh, blessed sign of peace!

Ord. My last, sir, and my dearest69 ! Alurt. Go nearer, lady.

And now, close my eyes too! Ord. I come to make you happy.

Thi. Thou perfect woman!Thi. Flear you that, sirs? [crifice! Martell, the kingdom's yours : take MemShe comes to crown my soul: away, get sa

berge to you, Whilst I with broly honours

And keep my line alive! Nay, weep not, lady! Murt. She's alive, sir.

Take me! I

go. Thi. In everlasting life; I know it, friend : Ord. Take me too! Farewell, Honour! Ob, happy, happy soul!

[Die both Ord. Alas, I live, sir;

2 Doctor. They're gone for ever. A inortal woman still.

Murt. The peace of happy souls go after Thi. Can spirits weep too? [Lady, them! Mart. She is no spirit, sir; pray kiss her. Bear them unto their last beds, whilst I study Be very gentle to him!

A tomb to speak their loves whilst old Time Thi. Stay !--She's warm ; [brightness, lasteth. And, by my life, the same lips! Tell me, I am your king in sorrows. Are you the same Ordella still?

Omnes. We your subjects ! [near us! Murt. The same, sir,

[from ruin.

Jlart. De Vitry, for your services 70, be Whom Heav'ns and my good angel stay'd Whip out these instruments of this mad moThi. Kiss me again!

ther

cause Ord. The same still, still your servant. From court, and all good people; and, beThi. 'Tis stie! I know her now, Martell. She was born noble, let that title tind her Sit down, sweet!

[slumber A private grave, but neither tongue nor hoOh, bless'd and happiest woman!-A dead nourii! Begins tv creep upon me: oh, my jewel! And now lead on !--They that shall read

Enter Messenger and Memberge. Shall find that Virtue lives in good, not glory. 'Ord. Oh, sleep, my lord !

(Exeunt omnes. Thi. My joys are too much for me!

69 Mly lust, sir, and my dearest.] There are two senses of this, which the reader will please to take this choice of. If the above points be right, last and clearest relate to her kiss; it ' we point with the old editions (which the suspicion of another sense made me turn to)

My last sir, and my dearest, The sense will be, my last and dearest lord! For sir is often us'd in this its original sense.

Seward. Ordella had no other lords. The sense obviously is, “Take my last kiss, and the most affectionate I ever gave.'

70 For your service.] Services was probably the original word here.

71 But neither tongue nor honour.] Both Mr. Theobald and Mr. Sympson wouid reject tongue here, and read tomb, but surely without sufficient reason: for tongue signifies the Juneral orution, honour the escutcheons and other ceremonies of the funeral, together with the monument, or whatever nay shew respect to the deceas'd. As to the character of Brunhult, or Brunhaud, though it may perhaps be thought too shocking to appear upon the stage, history has still represented her as a worse devil than our poets have done." Thicrry and Theodoret, or Theodibert, were her grand-children, whose father she had poison'd whien he came of age, in order to keep the goverminent in her own hands. She irritated Thierry against Thevdibert, whoun she caus'd bim to slay, and then poison'd Thierry, in hopes that the siates would have subunitted to her government; but her horrid wickednesses being laid open to the peers of France, she was accus'd of having been the murdress of ten kings, Leside debauching her grand-child Thierry, making him put away a virtuous wife, and providing him withi misses. She was condenın'd to the rack, which she suffer'd three days, was then carry'd about the camp upon a camels back, afterwards tyd by the feet to a wild mare, and so daslı'd in pieces. Sewurd.

this story,

[ocr errors]

THE WOMAN-HATER.

This Play was originally printed in quarto in the year 1607. It was afterwards revived by

Sir William Davenant, who added a second title, Or, The Hungry Courtier, and wrote a new Prologue to it, printed in his Works, p. 239, and in the quarto of 1619. The title page of the latter edition ascribes it to botb Authors: both the Original and Davenant's Prologues, however, speak of it as the production of but one; and Langbaine positively says it was one of those plays which Fletcher wrote alone. It has not been acted many years.

PROLOGUE.

GENTLEMEN, inductions' are out of date, and a Prologue in verse is as stale as a black velvet cloak, and a bay garland; therefore you shall have it plain prose, thus : if there be any amongst you that come to bear lascivious scenes, let thein depart; for I do pronounce this, to the utter discomfort of all two-penny gallery-inen, you shall live no bawdry in it: or it there be any lurking amongst you in corners, with table-books, who have some hope to find fit matter to feed his-malice on, let thein clasp then up, and slink away, or stay and be converted. For he that made this Play means to please auditors so, as he may be an auditor himself hereafter, and not purchase them with the dear loss of his cars.

I dare not call it Comedy or Tragedy; 'tis pertectly neither: a Play it is, which was meant to make you laugh; how it will please you, is not written in my part: for though you should like it to-day, perhaps yourselves know not how you should digest it to-morrow. Some things in it you may meet with, which are out of the common road : a duke there is, and the scene lies in Italy, as those two things lightly we never miss. But you shall not find in it the ordinary and over-worn tradle of jesting at lords, and courtiers, and citizens, without taxation of any particular or new vice by thein found out, but at the persons of thein : such, he, that made ihis, thinks vile, and for bis own part vous, that he did never think, but that a lord, lordborn, might be a wise man, and a courtier an hunest man?.

PROLOGUE AT THE REVIVAL.

Ladies, take't as a secret in your car, Alas! you now expect, the usual ways
Instead of homaye, and kind welcome here, Of our address, which is your sex's praise:
I beartily could wish you all were gone; But we to-night, unluckily, must speak
For if you stay, good faith, we are un- Such things will make your lovers' heart
donc.

strings break, · Inductions.] Such as precede Cynthia's Revels, Bartholomew-Pair, The Taming of the Shrew, and many other plays of that period. By the former of those we learn, that it was usual for the speaker of a prologue, in those times, to be habited in a black clouk: it is possible the custom of dressing in black, which continued to be the fashion for prologuespeakers until very lately, was derived from hence. R.

From this prologue as well as a thousand other passages in our authors, it is very evident that their plays were in the age they livid remarkable for the decency and delicacy of their language; though several of their expressions are become now very gross, and are apt to give offence to modest ears; but they ou_be to be judged by the fashion or the age they lived in, not by that which now reigns.

Sewurd,

Be-lie Be-lie your virtues, and your beauties stain, Soard high, and to the stars your sex did With words, contriv'd long since, in your

ralse; disdain.

For which, full twenty years he wore the bays. 'Tis strange you stir not yet; not all this while 'Twas be reduc'd Evadne from her scorn, Lift up your fans to hide a scornful smile; And taught the sad Aspati": how to mourn; Whisper, or joy your lords to steal away, Gave Arethusa's love a glad relief; So leave us t’act, unto ourselves, our play: And inade Panthea elegant in grief. Then sure, there may be hope, you can If those great trophies of bis nobie muse subdue

Cannot one hunour 'gainst your sex excuse, Your patience to endure an act or two; which we present to-nighi, you'll find a way Nay more, when you are told our poet's rage How to make good the libel in our play: Pursues but one example, which that age So you are cruel to yourselves; whilst he Wherein he liv'd produc'd; and we rely (Sate in the fame of his integrity) Not on the truth, but the variety.

Will be a prophet, not a poet thought, His muse believ'd not what she then did write; And this fiue web last long, tho' loosely Her wings were wont to make a nobler flight, wrought.

a

[blocks in formation]

"T'S

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Lucio. About some weighty state-plot.
SCENE I.

Duke. And what thinks
Enter Duke, Arrigo, and Lucio.

Your knighthood of it?
Duke. "T'IS now the sweetest tiine for Arr. I do think, to cure

(wealth sleep; the night is

Some strange corruptions in the commosScarce spent: Arrigo, what's o'clock ?

Duke. You're well conceited of yourselves Arr. Past four.

[up? to tiink Duke. Is it so much, and yet the morn not I chuse you out to bear me company See yonder, where the shame-fac'd maiden In such affairs and business of state :

But am not I a pattern for all princes, Into our sight how gently doth she slide, That break my soft sleep for ny subjects Hiding her chaste cheeks, like a modest bride, Am I not careful? very provident?

(good! With a red veil of bluslies; as is shes,

Lucio. Your grace is caretul. Even such all modest virtuous women be! Arr. Very provident. (working plos Why thinks your lordship I am up so soon?

I

Duke. Nay, knew you how myt serious3 As if she.] This nonsensical lection is in all editions but the first quarto.

4 My serious working plols.] I never think it right to discard good sense because another reading appears preferable, but a compound word, sccrct-working, occurr'd at first sight, and was rejected as unnecessary, 'till reading three lines below Arrigo's answer,

You secretly will cross some other state, which seems to imply something of secrecy being mention'd before, the conjecture seed much more probable. Seward,

Concera

Concern the whole estates of all my subjects, Of meat, that have been in the court, e'er Ay, and their lives; then, Lucio, thou since

[can thrust. wouldst swear,

Our great-grandfather's time; and when he I were a loving prince.

To at no table, he makes his ineat of that. Lucio. I think your grace

Lucio. The very saine, my lord. Intends to walk the public streets disguis'd, Duke. A courtier call'st thou him? To see the streets' disorders.

Believe me, I ucio, there be many such Duke. 'Tis not so,

[states, About our court, respected, as they think, Arr. You secretly will cross some other Ev'n by ourself. With thee I will be plain: That do cons, ire against you.

We princes do use to prefer many for noDuke. Veightier far:

(cause; thing, You are my friends, and you shall lave the And to take particular and free knowledge, I break my sleeps tius sovi to see a wench. Almost in the nature of acquaintance, of

Lucio. You're wondrous careful for your many subjects' good!

Whom we do use only for our pleasures; Arr. You are a very loving prince ineleed! And do give larvely to numbers, Duke. This care I take for them, when Niore out of policy to be thought liberal, their dull eyes

And by that means to make the people Are clos'd with heavy slumbers.

strive Arr. Then you rise

To deserve our love, than to reward To see your wenches.

Any particular desert of theirs shear Lucio. What Milan beauty hath the pow'r To whom we give! and do suffer ourselves to To charm her sovereign's eyes, and break his Flatterers, more for recreation sleeps ?

Than for love of it, tho' we seldoin hate it: Duke. Sister to count Valore! she's a maid

And yet we know all these ; and when we Would make a prince forget his throne and please,

(about. state,

Can touch the wheel, and turn their names And lowly kneel to her: the general fate Lucio. I wonder they that know their Of all mortality, is bers to give;

states so well, As she disposeti), so we nie and live.

Should fancy such base slaves. Lucio. My lord, the day grows clear; the Duke. Thou wonder'st, Lucio? [Milan, court will rise.

[heads, Dost not thou think, if thou wert duke of Duke. Vi'e stay too long.-Is the umbrana's Thou shouldst be flatter'? As we commanded, sent to the sad Gonda- Luciu. I know, my lord, I would not. Our general?

[rino, Duke. Why, so I thought 'till I was duke; Arr. Tis sent.

I thought Duke. Biit stay! where shines

I should have left me no more Natterers That light?

Than there are now plam-dealers; and yet, Arr. 'Tis in the chamber of Lazarillo. For all this my resolution, I am most Duke. Lazarillo? what is he?

Palpably flatter'd: the poor man may loath Arr. A courtier, my lord ;

Covetousness and flattery, but fortune will And one that I wonder your grace knows not, Alter the mind when the wind turns; there for

(predecessors, may He bath follow'l your court, and your last Be well a little conflict, but it will drive From place to piace, anytime this seven year,

The billows before it. Arrigo, it grows late; As faithfully as your spits and your dripping- For see, fair Tethys lath undone the bars pans

To Phoebus' team; and his unrivait light Have done, and almost as greasily.

Hath chas' the morning's inodest blusb

away: Duke. Oh, we know him: as we have Now must we to our love. Bright Paplaan heard, he keeps

queen, A calendar of all the famous dishes

Thou Cytherenn goddess, that delights 4 Her sovereign eyes.] First quarto and Seward read as in text.

s The unbrana.] In another passage, this fislr is called an umbrane; and is probably the same wbich Cotgrave describes in t'e following manner, under the name of an umbrine: ' A great-eyerl, round-tonguer, small-toothed, and holesome sea-tish, which hath certaine " barres over crosse her backe, and growing often to the bignesse of a muigre, is sometimes

taken for it.' Florio, in bis · Worlde of Wordes,' folio, 1598, voce umbrine, calls it a • kinde of fish, which some take to be the balybut;' and Coigrave, who, as before, says it is sometimes taken for a maigre, gives the following account of the latter: - A great and skalie • fish, having a wattle on his chinne, two holes on the top of his beake neere bis eyes; and

two stones within bis head of some vertue (as is supposed) against the choliche: the • French do tearme bim thus, not because he is leane, but because by the whitenesse of bis " Mesh he seems so; bowsoever, and howsoever he be dressed, lie is reasonablc good meat' R.

In

a

« PředchozíPokračovat »