Beaumont & Fletchers Works (1 of 10) – the Custom of the Country

Clo. The Governour: with him my Rival, bound.

Char. For certain 'tis Arnoldo.

Clo. Let's attend What the success will be.

Mar. Is't possible There should be hope of his recovery, His wounds so many and so deadly?

Doct. So they appear'd at first, but the blood stop'd, His trance forsook him, and on better search We found they were not mortal.

Man. Use all careTo perfect this unhop'd for cure: that donePropose your own rewards: and till you shallHear farther from me, for some ends I have,Conceal it from his Mother.

Doct. Wee'l not fail Sir. [Exit.

Man. You still stand confident on your innocence.

Arn. It is my best and last guard, which I will not Leave, to relye on your uncertain mercy.

Enter Hippolyta, Zabulon, Leopold, Zenocia, 2 Servants.

Hip. Who bad you follow me! Goe home, and you Sir, As you respect me, goe with her.

Arn. Zenocia! And in her house a Servant!

Char. 'Tis my Daughter.

Clo. My love? Contain your joy, observe the sequel. [Zen. passes.

Man. Fye Madam, how undecent 'tis for you,So far unlike your self to bee seen thusIn th' open streets? why do you kneel? pray you rise,I am acquainted with the wrong, and lossYou have sustain'd, and the Delinquent nowStands ready for his punishment.Hip. Let it fall, Sir,On the offender: he is innocent,And most unworthy of these bonds he wears,But I made up of guilt.

Man. What strange turn's this?

Leo. This was my prisoner once.

Hip. If chastityIn a young man, and tempted to the height tooDid ere deserve reward, or admiration,He justly may claim both. Love to his person(Or if you please give it a fouler name)Compel'd me first to train him to my house,All engines I rais'd there to shake his vertue,Which in the assault were useless; he unmov'd stillAs if he had no part of humane frailty.Against the nature of my Sex, almostI plaid the Ravisher. You might have seenIn our contention, young Apollo flyAnd love-sick Daphne follow, all arts failing,By flight he wan the victory, breaking fromMy scorn'd embraces: the repulse (in womenUnsufferable) invited me to practiseA means to be reveng'd: and from this grewHis Accusation, and the abuseOf your still equall justice: My rage everThanks heaven, though wanton, I found not my selfSo far engag'd to Hell, to prosecuteTo the death what I had plotted, for that loveThat made me first desire him, then accuse him,Commands me with the hazard of my selfFirst to entreat his pardon, then acquit him.Man. What ere you are, so much I love your vertue,That I desire your friendship: do you unloose himFrom those bonds, you are worthy of: your repentanceMakes part of satisfaction; yet I mustSeverely reprehend you.

Leo. I am made A stale on all parts: But this fellow shall Pay dearly for her favour.

Arn. My life's so fullOf various changes, that I now despairOf any certain port; one trouble ending,A new, and worse succeeds it: what should ZenociaDo in this womans house? Can chastityAnd hot Lust dwell together without infection?I would not be or jealous, or secure,Yet something must be done, to sound the depth on't:That she lives is my bliss, but living there,A hell of torments; there's no way to herIn whom I live, but by this door, through whichTo me 'tis death to enter, yet I must,And will make tryal.Man. Let me hear no moreOf these devices, Lady: this I pardon,And at your intercession I forgiveYour instrument the Jew too: get you home.The hundred thousand crowns you lent the CityTowards the setting forth of the last NavyBound for the Islands, was a good then, whichI ballance with your ill now.

Char. Now Sir, to him, You know my Daughter needs it.

Hip. Let me takeA farewell with mine eye, Sir, though my lipBe barr'd the Ceremonie, courtesieAnd Custom too allows of.Arn. Gentle Madam,I neither am so cold, nor so ill bredBut that I dare receive it: you are unguarded,And let me tell you that I am asham'dOf my late rudeness, and would gladly thereforeIf you please to accept my ready serviceWait on you to your house.

Hip. Above my hope: Sir, if an Angel were to be my convoy, He should not be more welcom.– [Ex. Arn. and Hip.

Clo. Now you know me.

Man. Yes Sir, and honour you: ever remembringYour many bounties, being ambitious onlyTo give you cause to say by some one serviceThat I am not ungratefull.

Clod. 'Tis now offer'd: I have a suit to you, and an easie one, Which e're long you shall know.

Man. When you think fit Sir,And then as a command I will receive it,Till when, most welcom: you are welcom too Sir,'Tis spoken from the heart, and therefore needs notMuch protestation: at your better leisureI will enquire the cause that brought you hither:In the mean time serve you.

Clod. You out-doe me Sir. [Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima

Enter Duarte, Doctor.

Dua. You have bestow'd on me a second life,For which I live your creature, and have better'dWhat nature fram'd unperfect, my first beingInsolent pride made monstrous; but this laterIn learning me to know my self, hath taught meNot to wrong others.Doct. Then we live indeed,When we can goe to rest without alarmGiven every minute to a guilt-sick conscienceTo keep us waking, and rise in the morningSecure in being innocent: but whenIn the remembrance of our worser actionsWe ever bear about us whips and furies,To make the day a night of sorrow to us,Even life's a burthen.Dua. I have found and felt it;But will endeavour having first made peaceWith those intestine enemies my rude passions,To be so with man-kind: but worthy Doctor,Pray if you can resolve me; was the GentlemanThat left me dead, ere brought unto his tryal?

Doct. Not known, nor apprehended.

Dua. That's my grief.

Doct. Why, do you wish he had been punished?

Dua. No,The stream of my swoln sorrow runs not that way:For could I find him, as I vow to HeavenIt shall be my first care to seek him out,I would with thanks acknowledge that his sword,In opening my veins, which proud bloud poison'd,Gave the first symptoms of true health.Doct. 'Tis in youA Christian resolution: that you liveIs by the Governours, your Uncles chargeAs yet conceal'd. And though a sons loss neverWas solemniz'd with more tears of true sorrowThan have been paid by your unequal'd MotherFor your supposed death, she's not acquaintedWith your recovery.

Dua. For some few dayes Pray let her so continue: thus disguis'd I may abroad unknown.

Doct. Without suspicion Of being discovered.

Dua. I am confidentNo moisture sooner dies than womens tears,And therefore though I know my Mother vertuous,Yet being one of that frail sex I purposeHer farther tryal.

Doct. That as you think fit—I'le not betray you.

Dua. To find out this strangerThis true Physician of my mind and mannersWere such a blessing. He seem'd poor, and mayPerhaps be now in want; would I could find him.The Innes I'le search first, then the publick Stewes;He was of Italy, and that Country breeds notPrecisians that way, but hot Libertines;And such the most are: 'tis but a little travail:I am unfurnisht too, pray Mr. Doctor,Can you supply me?

Doct. With what summ you please.

Dua. I will not be long absent.

Doct. That I wish too; For till you have more strength, I would not have you To be too bold.

Dua. Fear not, I will be carefull. [Exeunt.

Enter Leopold, Zabulon, Bravo.

Zab. I have brought him Sir, a fellow that will do it Though Hell stood in his way, ever provided You pay him for't.

Leop. He has a strange aspect, And looks much like the figure of a hang-man In a table of the Passion.

Zab. He transcendsAll precedents, believe it, a flesh'd ruffian,That hath so often taken the Strappado,That 'tis to him but as a lofty trickIs to a tumbler: he hath perused tooAll Dungeons in Portu[g]al, thrice seven yearsRowed in the Galleys for three several murthers,Though I presume that he has done a hundred,And scap't unpunisht.

Leop. He is much in debt to you, You set him off so well. What will you take Sir To beat a fellow for me, that thus wrong'd me?

Bra. To beat him say you?

Leop. Yes, beat him to lameness, To cut his lips or nose off; any thing, That may disfigure him.

Bra. Let me consider? Five hundred pistolets for such a service I think were no dear penniworth.

Zab. Five hundred! Why there are of your Brother-hood in the City, I'le undertake, shall kill a man for twenty.

Bra. Kill him? I think so; I'le kill any man For half the mony.

Leop. And will you ask more For a sound beating than a murther?

Bra. I Sir,And with good reason, for a dog that's dead,The Spanish proverb says, will never bite:But should I beat or hurt him only, he mayRecover, and kill me.Leo. A good conclusion,The obduracie of this rascal makes me tender.I'le run some other course, there's your rewardWithout the employment.

Bra. For that as you please Sir; When you have need to kill a man, pray use me, But I am out at beating. [Exit.

Zab. What's to be done then?

Leop. I'le tell thee Zabulon, and make thee privy To my most near designs: this stranger, which Hippolyta so dotes on, was my prisoner When the last Virgin, I bestowed upon her, Was made my prize; how he escaped, hereafter I'le let thee know; and it may be the love He bears the servant, makes him scorn the Mistris.

Zab. 'Tis not unlike; for the first time he saw herHis looks exprest so much, and for more proofSince he came to my Ladys house, though yetHe never knew her, he hath practis'd with meTo help him to a conference, withoutThe knowledge of Hippolyta; which I promis'd.Leop. And by all means perform it for their meeting,But work it so, that my disdainful Mistris(Whom, notwithstanding all her injuries,'Tis my hard fate to love) may see and hear them.

Zab. To what end Sir?

Leop. This Zabulon: when she seesWho is her rival, and her Lovers basenessTo leave a Princess for her bondwoman,The sight will make her scorn, what now she dotes on,I'le double thy reward.Zab. You are like to speed then:For I confess what you will soon believe,We serve them best that are most apt to give,For you, I'le place you where you shall see all, and yet be unobserv'd.

Leop. That I desire too. [Exeunt.

Enter Arnoldo.

Arn. I cannot see her yet, how it afflicts meThe poyson of this place should mix it selfWith her pure thoughts? 'Twas she that was commanded,Or my eyes failed me grosly; that youth, that faceAnd all that noble sweetness. May she not live here,And yet be honest still?

Enter Zenocia.

Zen. It is Arnoldo,From all his dangers free; fortune I bless thee.My noble husband! how my joy swells in me,But why in this place? what business hath he here?He cannot hear of me, I am not known here.I left him vertuous; how I shake to think now!And how that joy I had, cools, and forsakes me!

Enter above Hippolyta and Zabulon.

This Lady is but fair, I have been thought soWithout compare admired; She has bewitched himAnd he forgot—

Arn. 'Tis she again, the same—the same Zenocia.

Zab. There they are together.—Now you may mark.

Hip. Peace, let 'em parly.

Arn. That you are well Zenocia, and once more Bless my despairing eyes, with your wisht presence, I thank the gods; but that I meet you here—

Hip. They are acquainted.

Zab. I found that secret Madam, When you co[m]manded her go home: pray hear 'em.

Zen. That you meet me here, ne're blush at that Arnoldo.Your coming comes too late: I am a woman,And one woman with another may be trusted;Do you fear the house?

Arn. More than a fear, I know it, Know it not good, not honest.

Zen. What do you here then?I'th' name of vertue why do you approach it?Will you confess the doubt and yet pursue it?Where have your eyes been wandring, my Arnoldo?What constancy, what faith do you call this? Fie,Aim at one wanton mark, and wound another?I do confess, the Lady fair, most beauteous,And able to betray a strong mans liberty,                 [Leopold places himself unseen below.But you that have a love, a wife—you do wellTo deal thus wisely with me: yet Arnoldo,Since you are pleas'd to study a new beauty,And think this old and ill, beaten with misery,Study a nobler way for shame to love me,Wrong not her honesty.

Arn. You have confirm'd me.

Zen. Who though she be your wife, will never hinder you,So much I rest a servant to your wishes,And love your Loves, though they be my destructions,No man shall know me, nor the share I have in thee,No eye suspect I am able to prevent you,For since I am a slave to this great Lady,Whom I perceive you follow,

Arn. Be not blinded.

Zen. Fortune shall make me useful to your service, I will speak for you.

Arn. Speak for me? you wrong me.

Zen. I will endeavour all the wayes I am ableTo make her think well of you; will that please?To make her dote upon you, dote to madness,So far against my self I will obey you.But when that's done, and I have shewed this duty,This great obedience, few will buy it at my price,Thus will I shake hands with you, wish you well,But never see you more, nor receive comfortFrom any thing, Arnoldo.Arn. You are too tender;I neither doubt you, nor desire longerTo be a man, and live, than I am honestAnd only yours; our infinite affectionsAbus'd us both.

Zab. Where are your favours now? The courtesies you shew'd this stranger, Madam?

Hip. Have I now found the cause?

Zab. Attend it further.

Zen. Did she invite you, do you say?

Arn. Most cunningly, And with a preparation of that state I was brought in and welcom'd.

Zen. Seem'd to love you?

Arn. Most infinitely, at first sight, most dotingly.

Zen. She is a goodly Lady.

Arn. Wondrous handsom:At first view, being taken unprepar'd,Your memory not present then to assist me,She seem'd so glorious sweet, and so far stir'd me,Nay be not jealous, there's no harm done.

Zen. Prethee—didst thou not kiss, Arnoldo?

Arn. Yes faith did I.

Zen. And then—

Arn. I durst not, did not—

Zen. I forgive you, Come tell the truth.

Arn. May be I lay with her.

Hip. He mocks me too, most basely.

Zen. Did ye faith? did ye forget so far?

Arn. Come, come, no weeping;I would have lyen first in my grave, believe that.Why will you ask those things you would not hear?She is too untemperate to betray my vertues,Too openly lascivious: had she dealtBut with that seeming modesty she might,And flung a little Art upon her ardor,But 'twas forgot, and I forgot to like her,And glad I was deceiv'd. No my Zenocia,My first love here begun, rests here unreapt yet,And here for ever.

Zen. You have made me happy, Even in the midst of bondage blest.

Zab. You see now What rubs are in your way.

Hip. And quickly Zabulon I'le root 'em out.—Be sure you do this presently.

Zab. Do not you alter then.

Hip. I am resolute. [Exit Zabulon.

Arn. To see you only I came hither last, Drawn by no love of hers, nor base allurements, For by this holy light I hate her heartily.

Leop. I am glad of that, you have sav'd me so much vengeance And so much fear, From this hour fair befal you.

Arn. Some means I shall make shortly to redeem you, Till when, observe her well, and fit her temper, Only her lust contemn.

Zen. When shall I see you?

Arn. I will live hereabouts, and bear her fair still, Till I can find a fit hour to redeem you.

Hip. Shut all the doors.

Arn. Who's that?

Zen. We are betray'd, The Lady of the house has heard our parly, Seen us, and seen our Loves.

Hip. You courteous Gallant,You that scorn all I can bestow, that laugh atThe afflictions, and the groans I suffer for you,That slight and jeer my love, contemn the fortuneMy favours can fling on you, have I caught you?Have I now found the cause? ye fool my wishes;Is mine own slave, my bane? I nourish thatThat sucks up my content. I'le pray no more,Nor wooe no more; thou shalt see foolish man,And to thy bitter pain and anguish, look onThe vengeance I shall take, provok'd and slighted;Redeem her then, and steal her hence: ho ZabulonNow to your work.

Enter Zabulon, and Servants, some holding Arnoldo, some ready with a cord to strangle Zenocia.

Arn. Lady, but hear me speak first, As you have pity.

Hip. I have none. You taught me, When I even hung about your neck, you scorn'd me.

Zab. Shall we pluck yet?

Hip. No, hold a little Zabulon, I'le pluck his heart-strings first: now am I worthy A little of your love?

Arn. I'le be your Servant, Command me through what danger you shall aime at, Let it be death.

Hip. Be sure Sir, I shall fit you.

Arn. But spare this Virgin.

Hip. I would spare that villain first, Had cut my Fathers throat.

Arn. Bounteous Lady, If in your sex there be that noble softness, That tenderness of heart, women are crown'd for—

Zen. Kneel not Arnoldo, doe her not that honour,She is not worthy such submission,I scorn a life depends upon her pity.Proud woman do thy worst, and arm thy angerWith thoughts as black as Hell, as hot and bloody,I bring a patience here, shall make 'em blush,An innocence, shall outlook thee, and death too.Arn. Make me your slave, I give my freedom to ye,For ever to be fetter'd to your service;'Twas I offended, be not so unjust then,To strike the innocent, this gentle maidNever intended fear and doubt against you:She is your Servant, pay not her observanceWith cruel looks, her duteous faith with death.

Hip. Am I fair now? now am I worth your liking?

Zen. Not fair, not to be liked, thou glorious Devil, Thou vernisht piece of lust, thou painted fury.

Arn. Speak gently sweet, speak gently.

Zen. I'le speak nobly.'Tis not the saving of a life I aim at,Mark me lascivious woman, mark me truly,And then consider, how I weigh thy anger.Life is no longer mine, nor dear unto me,Than usefull to his honour I preserve it.If thou hadst studied all the courtesiesHumanity and noble blood are linkt to,Thou couldst not have propounded such a benefit,Nor heapt upon me such unlookt for honourAs dying for his sake, to be his Martyr,'Tis such a grace.

Hip. You shall not want that favour, Let your bones work miracles.

Arn. Dear Lady By those fair eyes—

Hip. There is but this way left ye To save her life.—

Arn. Speak it, and I embrace it.

Hip. Come to my private chamber presently, And there, what love and I command—

Arn. I'le doe it, Be comforted Zenocia.

Zen. Do not do thisTo save me, do not lose your self I charge you,I charge you by your love, that love [you] bear me;That love, that constant love you have twin'd to me,By all your promises, take heed you keep 'em,Now is your constant tryal. If thou dost this,Or mov'st one foot, to guide thee to her lust,My curses and eternal hate pursue thee.Redeem me at the base price of dis-loyalty?Must my undoubted honesty be thy Bawd too?Go and intwine thy self about that body;Tell her, for my life thou hast lost thine honour,Pull'd all thy vows from heaven, basely, most baselyStoop'd to the servile flames of that foul woman,To add an hour to me that hate thee for it,Know thee not again, nor name thee for a Husband.

Arn. What shall I do to save her?

Hip. How now, what hast there?

Enter a Servant.

Ser. The Governour, attended with some Gentlemen, Are newly entred, to speak with your Ladiship.

Hip. Pox o' their business, reprieve her for this hour, I shall have other time.

Arn. Now fortune help us.

Hip. I'le meet 'em presently: retire awhile all. [Exeunt.

Zab. You rise to day upon your right side Lady;You know the danger too, and may prevent it,And if you suffer her to perish thus,As she must do, and suddenly, believe it,Unless you stand her friend; you know the way on't,I guess you poorly love her, less your fortune.Let her know nothing, and perform this matter,There are hours ordained for several businesses,You understand.

Arn. I understand you Bawd Sir, And such a Counsellour I never car'd for.

Enter the Governour, Clodio, Leopold, Charino and Attendants at one door, Hippolyta at the other.

Hip. Your Lordship does me honour.

Gover. Fair Hippolyta, I am come to ease you of a charge.

Hip. I keep none I count a burthen Sir: and yet I lye too.

Gover. Which is the Maid; is she here?

Clod. Yes Sir, This is she, this is Zenocia, The very same I sued to your Lordship for.

Zen. Clodio again? more misery? more ruin? Under what angry star is my life govern'd?

Gov. Come hither Maid, you are once more a free woman, Here I discharge your bonds.

Arn. Another smile, Another trick of fortune to betray us!

Hip. Why does your Lordship use me so unnobly? Against my will to take away my bond-woman?

Gov. She was no lawful prize, therefore no bond-woman:She's of that Country we hold friendship with,And ever did, and therefore to be usedWith entertainment, fair and courteous.The breach of League in us gives foul example,Therefore you must be pleas'd to think this honest;Did you know what she was?

Leop. Not till this instant; For had I known her, she had been no prisoner.

Gov. There, take the Maid, she is at her own dispose now, And if there be ought else to do your honour Any poor service in—

Clod. I am vowed your servant.

Arn. Your Father's here too, that's our only comfort, And in a Country now, we stand free people, Where Clodio has no power, be comforted.

Zen. I fear some trick yet.

Arn. Be not so dejected.

Gover. You must not be displeas'd; so farewel Lady. Come Gentlemen; Captain, you must with me too, I have a little business.

Leop. I attend your Lordship: Now my way's free, and my hope's Lord again. [Exeunt all but Hip. and Zab.

Hip. D'ye jeer me now ye are going? I may live yet—to make you howl both.

Zab. You might have done; you had power then,But now the chains are off, the command lost,And such a story they will make of thisTo laugh out lazie time.

Hip. No means yet left me? For now I burst with anger: none to satisfie me? No comfort? no revenge?

Zab. You speak too late;You might have had all these, your useful servants,Had you been wise, and suddain: what power, or willOver her beauty, have you now? by violenceTo constrain his love; she is as free as you are,And no law can impeach her liberty,And whilst she is so, Arnoldo will despise you.

Hip. Either my love or anger must be satisfied, Or I must dye.

Zab. I have a way wou'd do it, Wou'd do it yet, protect me from the Law.

Hip. From any thing; thou knowest what power I have, What mony, and what friends.

Zab. 'Tis a devilish one: But such must now be us'd: walk in, I'le tell you; And if you like it, if the Devil can do any thing—

Hip. Devil, or what thou wilt, so I be satisfied. [Ex.