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

Enter Sulpitia, and Jaques.

Sulp. This is the rarest and the lustiest fellow, And so bestirs himself—

Jaq. Give him breath Mistress, You'l melt him else.

Sulp. He does perform such wonders— The women are mad on him.

Jaq. Give him breath I say; The man is but a man, he must have breath.

Sulp. How many had he yesterday? And they paid bravely too.

Jaq. About fourteen, But still I cry give breath, spare him and have him.

Sulp. Five Dames to day; this was a small stage, He may endure five more.

Jaq. Breath, breath I cry still; Body o' me give breath, the man's a lost man else. Feed him and give him breath.

Enter 2 Gentlewomen.

Sulp. Welcome Gentlewomen, Y'are very welcome.

1 Gen. We hear you have a lusty and well complexion'd fellow That does rare tricks; my Sister and my self here, Would trifle out an hour or two, so please you.

Sulp. Jaques, conduct 'em in.

Both. There's for your courtesie. [Ex. Jaq. and Gent.

Sulp. Good pay still, good round pay, this happy fellowWill set me up again; he brings in goldFaster than I have leisure to receive it.O that his body were not flesh and fading;But I'le so pap him up—nothing too dear for him;What a sweet scent he has?—Now what news Jaques?Jaq. He cannot last, I pity the poor man,I suffer for him; two Coaches of young City dames,And they drive as the Devil were in the wheels,Are ready now to enter: and behind theseAn old dead-palsied Lady in a Litter,And she makes all the haste she can: the man's lost,You may gather up his dry bones to make Nine-pins,But for his flesh.

Sulp. These are but easie labours Yet, for I know he must have rest.

Ja. He must—you'll beat him off his legs else presently.

Sul. Go in, and bid him please himself, I am pleas'd too:To morrow's a new day; but if he canI would have him take pity o' the old Lady.Alas 'tis charity.

Jaq. I'le tell him all this, And if he be not too fool-hardy.

Enter Zabulon.

Sulp. How now? What news with you?

Zab. You must presently Shew all the art you have, and for my Lady.

Sulp. She may command.

Zab. You must not dream nor trifle.

Sulp. Which way?

Zab. A spell you must prepare, a powerful one,Peruse but these directions, you shall find all;There is the picture too, be quick, and faithful,And do it with that strength—when 'tis perform'd,Pitch your reward at what you please, you have it.

Sul. I'le do my best, and suddenly: but hark ye, Will you never lye at home again?

Zab. Excuse me, I have too much business yet.

Sulp. I am right glad on't.

Zab. Think on your business, so farewel.

Sulp. I'le do it.

Zab. Within this hour I'le visit you again And give you greater lights.

Sulp. I shall observe ye; This brings a brave reward, bravely I'le do it, And all the hidden art I have, express in't. [Exeunt at both doors.

Enter Rutilio with a Night-cap.

Rut. Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden,Fye, how my hams shrink under me! O me,I am broken-winded too; is this a life?Is this the recreation I have aim'd at?I had a body once, a handsome body,And wholesome too. Now I appear like a rascal,That had been hung a year or two in Gibbets.Fye how I faint! women? keep me from women;Place me before a Cannon, 'tis a pleasure;Stretch me upon a Rack, a recreation;But women? women? O the Devil! women?Curtius Gulf was never half so dangerous.Is there no way to find the Trap-door again,And fall into the Cellar, and be taken?No lucky fortune to direct me that way?No Gallies to be got, nor yet no Gallows?For I fear nothing now, no earthly thingBut these unsatisfied Men-leeches, women.How devilishly my bones ake! O the old Lady!I have a kind of waiting-woman lyes cross my back too,O how she stings! no treason to deliver me?Now what are you? do you mock me?

Enter 3. with Night-caps very faintly.

1 No Sir, no; We were your Predecessors in this place.

2 And come to see you bear up.

Rut. Good Gentlemen; You seem to have a snuffing in your head Sir, A parlous snuffing, but this same dampish air—

2 A dampish air indeed.

Rut. Blow your face tenderly,Your nose will ne're endure it: mercy o' me,What are men chang'd to here? is my nose fast yet?Me thinks it shakes i'th' hilts: pray tell me gentlemen,How long is't since you flourisht here?

3 Not long since.

Rut. Move your self easily, I see you are tender, Nor long endured.

2 The labour was so much Sir, And so few to perform it—

Rut. Must I come to this?And draw my legs after me like a lame Dog?I cannot run away, I am too feeble:Will you sue for this place again Gentlemen?

1 No truly Sir, the place has been too warm for our complexions.

We have enough on't, rest you merry Sir,We came but to congratulate your fortune,You have abundance.

3 Bear your fortune soberly, And so we leave you to the next fair Lady. [Ex. the 3.

Rut. Stay but a little, and I'le meet you Gentlemen,At the next Hospital: there's no living thus,Nor am I able to endure it longer,With all the helps and heats that can be given me,I am at my trot already: they are fair and youngMost of the women that repair unto me,But they stick on like Burs, shake me like Feathers.

Enter Sulpitia.

More Women yet?Would I were honestly marriedTo any thing that had but half a face,And not a groat to keep her, nor a smock,That I might be civilly merry when I pleased,Rather than labouring in these Fulling-mills.

Sul. By this the spell begins to work: you are lusty, I see you bear up bravely yet.

Rut. Do you hear Lady,Do not make a game-bear of me, to play me hourly,And fling on all your whelps; it would not hold;Play me with some discretion; to day one course,And two dayes hence another.Sulp. If you be so angryPay back the mony I redeem'd you atAnd take your course, I can have men enough:You have cost me a hundred crowns since you came hither,In Broths and strength[n]ing Caudles; till you do pay me,If you will eat and live, you shall endeavour,I'le chain you to't else.Rut. Make me a Dog-kennel,I'le keep your house and bark, and feed on bare bones,And be whipt out o' doors,Do you mark me Lady? whipt,I'le eat old shoes.

Enter Duarte.

Dua. In this house I am toldThere is a stranger, of a goodly person,And such a one there was; if I could see him,I yet remember him.

Sulp. Your business Sir, If it be for a woman, ye are couzen'd, I keep none here. [Exit.

Dua. Certain this is the Gentleman; The very same.

Rut. Death, if I had but mony,Or any friend to bring me from this bondage,I would Thresh, set up a Cobler's shop, keep Hogs,And feed with 'em, sell Tinder-boxes,And Knights of Ginger-bread, Thatch for threeHalf pence a day, and think it Lordly,From this base Stallion trade: why does he eye me,Eye me so narrowly?

Dua. It seems you are troubled Sir, I heard you speak of want.

Rut. 'Tis better hearing Far, than relieving Sir.

Dua. I do not think so, you know me not.

Rut. Not yet that I remember.

Dua. You shall, and for your friend: I am beholding to ye,Greatly beholding Sir; if you remember,You fought with such a man, they call'd Duarte,A proud distemper'd man: he was my enemy,My mortal foe, you slew him fairly, nobly.

Rut. Speak softly Sir, you do not mean to betray me, I wisht the Gallows, now th'are coming fairly.

Dua. Be confident, for as I live, I love you,And now you shall perceive it: for that service,Me, and my purse command: there, take it to ye,'Tis gold, and no small sum, a thousand Duckets,Supply your want.

Rut. But do you do this faithfully?

Dua. If I mean ill, spit in my face and kick me: In what else I may serve you, Sir—

Rut. I thank you,This is as strange to me as Knights adventures.I have a project, 'tis an honest one,And now I'le tempt my fortune.

Dua. Trust me with it.

Rut. You are so good and honest I must trust ye, 'Tis but to carry a letter to a Lady That sav'd my life once.

Dua. That will be most thankful, I will do't with all care.

Rut. Where are you, white-broth?Now lusty blood,Come in, and tell your mony:'Tis ready here, no threats, nor no orations,Nor prayers now.

Sulp. You do not mean to leave me.

Rut. I'le live in Hell sooner than here, and cooler. Come quickly come, dispatch, this air's unwho[l]som: Quickly good Lady, quickly to't.

Sulp. Well, since it must be, The next I'le fetter faster sure, and closer.

Rut. And pick his bones, as y'have done mine, pox take ye.

Dua. At my lodging for a while, you shall be quartered, And there take Physick for your health.

Rut. I thank ye, I have found my angel now too, if I can keep him. [Exeunt omnes.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima

Enter Rutilio and Duarte.

_Rut. You like the Letter?

Dua. Yes, but I must tell youYou tempt a desperate hazard, to solliciteThe mother, (and the grieved one too, 'tis rumor'd)Of him you slew so lately.Rut. I have told youSome proofs of her affection, and I know notA nearer way to make her satisfactionFor a lost Son, than speedily to help herTo a good Husband; one that will begetBoth Sons and Daughters, if she be not barren.I have had a breathing now, and have recoveredWhat I lost in my late service, 'twas a hot one:It fired and fired me; but all thanks to you Sir,You have both freed and cool'd me.

Dua. What is done Sir, I thought well done, and was in that rewarded, And therefore spare your thanks.

Rut. I'le no more Whoring:This fencing 'twixt a pair of sheets, more wears oneThan all the exercise in the world besides.To be drunk with good Canary, a meer JulipOr like gourd-water to't; twenty SurfeitsCome short of one nights work there. If I get this LadyAs ten to one I shall, I was ne're denied yet,I will live wondrous honestly; walk before herGravely and demurelyAnd then instruct my family; you are sad,What do you muse on Sir?Dua. Truth I was thinkingWhat course to take for the delivery of your letter,And now I have it: but faith did this Lady(For do not gull your self) for certain know,You kill'd her Son?Rut. Give me a Book I'le swear't;Denyed me to the Officers, that pursued me,Brought me her self to th' door, then gave me goldTo bear my charges, and shall I make doubt thenBut that she lov'd me? I am confidentTime having ta'ne her grief off, that I shall beMost welcome to her: for then to have wooed herHad been unseasonable.

Dua. Well Sir, there's more mony, To ma[ke] you handsome; I'le about your business: You know where you must stay?

Rut. There you shall find me:Would I could meet my Brother now, to know,Whether the Jew, his Genius, or my Christian,Has prov'd the better friend. [Exit.Dua. O who would trustDeceiving woman! or believe that oneThe best, and most Canoniz'd ever wasMore than a seeming goodness? I could rail nowAgainst the sex, and curse it; but the theamAnd way's too common: yet that GuiomarMy Mother; (nor let that forbid her to beThe wonder of our nation) she that wasMark'd out the great example, for all MatronsBoth Wife and Widow; she that in my breedingExprest the utmost of a Mothers care,And tenderness to a Son; she that yet feignsSuch sorrow for me; good God, that this mother,After all this, should give up to a stranger,The wreak she ow'd her Son; I fear her honour.That he was sav'd, much joyes me, and grieve onlyThat she was his preserver. I'le try further,And by this Engine, find whether the tears,Of which she is so prodigal, are for me,Or us'd to cloak her base hypocrisie. [Exit.

Enter Hippolyta and Sulpitia.

Hip. Are you assur'd the charm prevails?

Sulp. Do I live?Or do you speak to me? Now this very instantHealth takes its last leave of her; meager palenessLike winter, nips the Roses and the Lilies,The Spring that youth, and love adorn'd her face with.To force affection, is beyond our art,For I have prov'd all means that hell has taught me,Or the malice of a woman, which exceeds it,To change Arnoldo's love, but to no purpose:But for your bond-woman—Hip. Let her pine and dye;She remov'd, which like a brighter Sun,Obscures my beams, I may shine out again,And as I have been, be admir'd and sought to:How long has she to live?Sulp. Lady, beforeThe Sun twice rise and set, be confident,She is but dead; I know my Charm hath found her.Nor can the Governours Guard; her lovers tears;Her Fathers sorrow, or his power that freed her,Defend her from it.

Enter Zabulon.

Zab. All things have succeeded,As you could wish; I saw her brought sick home;The image of pale death, stampt on her fore-head.Let me adore this second Hecate,This great Commandress, of the fatal Sisters,That as she pleases, can cut short, or lengthenThe thread of life.

Hip. Where was she when the inchantment First seis'd upon her?

Zab. Taking the fresh air,In the company of the Governour, and Count Clodio,Arnoldo too, was present with her Father,When, in a moment (so the servants told me)As she was giving thanks to the Governour,And Clodio, for her unexpected freedom,As if she had been blasted, she sunk down,To their amazement.Hip. 'Tis thy master-pieceWhich I will so reward, that thou shalt fix here,And with the hazard of thy life, no moreMake tryal of thy powerful Art; which knownOur Laws call death: off with this Magical Robe,And be thy self.

Enter Governour, Clodio, and Charino.

Sulp. Stand close, you shall hear more.

Man. You must have patience; all rage is vain now,And piety forbids, that we should questionWhat is decreed above, or ask a reasonWhy heaven determines this or that way of us.Clod. Heaven has no hand in't; 'tis a work of hell.Her life hath been so innocent, all her actionsSo free from the suspicion of crime,As rather she deserves a Saints place here,Than to endure, what now her sweetness suffers.

Char. Not for her fault, but mine Sir, Zenocia suffers: The sin I made, when I sought to rase down Arnoldo's love, built on a Rock of truth, Now to the height is punish'd. I profess, Had he no birth, nor parts, the present sorrow He now expresses for her, does deserve her Above all Kings, though such had been his rivals.

Clod. All ancient stories, of the love of Husbands To vertuous Wives, be now no more remembred.

Char. The tales of Turtles, ever be forgotten, Or, for his sake believ'd.

Man. I have heard, there has beenBetween some married pairs, such sympathy,That th' Husband has felt really the throwsHis Wife then teeming suffers, this true griefConfirms, 'tis not impossible.

Clod. We shall find Fit time for this hereafter; let's use now All possible means to help her.

Man. Care, nor cost, Nor what Physicians can do, shall be wanting; Make use of any means or men.

Char. You are noble. [Exeunt Man. Clod, and Char.

Sulp. Ten Colledges of Doctors shall not save her. Her fate is in your hand.

Hip. Can I restore her?

Sulp. If you command my Art.

Hip. I'le dye my self first.And yet I'le go visit her, and seeThis miracle of sorrow in Arnoldo:And 'twere for me, I should change places with her,And dye most happy, such a lovers tearsWere a rich monument, but too good for her,Whose misery I glory in: come Sulpitia,You shall along with me, good ZabulonBe not far off.

Zab. I will attend you Madam. [Exeunt.

Enter Duarte, and a Servant.

Ser. I have serv'd you from my youth, and everYou have found me faithful: that you live's a treasureI'le lock up here; nor shall it be let forth,But when you give me warrant.Dua. I relyUpon thy faith; nay, no more protestations,Too many of them will call that in question,Which now I doubt not: she is there?Ser. Alone too,But take it on my life, your entertainment,Appearing as you are, will be but course,For the displeasure I shall undergoI am prepar'd.Dua. Leave me, I'le stand the hazard. [Exit Servant.The silence that's observ'd, her close retirements,No visitants admitted, not the day;These sable colours, all signs of true sorrow,Or hers is deeply counterfeit. I'le look nearer,Manners give leave—she sits upon the ground;By heaven she weeps; my picture in her hand too;She kisses it and weeps again.

Enter Guiomar.

Gui. Who's there?

Dua. There is no starting back now Madam.

Gui. Ha, another murderer! I'le not protect thee, Though I have no more Sons.

Dua. Your pardon Lady, There's no such foul fact taints me.

Gui. What makes thou here then? Where are my servants, do none but my sorrows Attend upon me? speak, what brought thee hither?

Dua. A will to give you comfort.

Gui. Thou art but a man.And 'tis beyond a humane reach to do it,If thou could raise the dead out of their graves,Bid time run back, make me now what I was,A happy Mother; gladly I would hear thee,But that's impossible.

Dua. Please you but read this; You shall know better there, why I am sent, Than if I should deliver it.

Gui. From whom comes it?

Dua. That will instruct you. I suspect this stranger,Yet she spake something that holds such allianceWith his reports; I know not what to think on't;What a frown was there? she looks me through, & through,Now reads again, now pauses, and now smiles;And yet there's more of anger in't than mirth,These are strange changes; oh I understand it,She's full of serious thoughts.Gui. You are just, you Heavens,And never do forget to hear their prayers,That truly pay their vows, the defer'd vengeance,For you, and my words sake so long defer'd,Under which as a mountain my heart groans yetWhen 'twas despair'd of, now is offer'd to me;And if I lose it, I am both wayes guilty.The womans mask, dissimulation help me.Come hither friend, I am sure you know the Gentleman,That sent these charms.

Dua. Charms Lady?

Gui. These charms;I well may call them so, they've won upon me,More than ere letter did; thou art his friend,(The confidence he has in thee, confirms it)And therefore I'le be open breasted to thee;To hear of him, though yet I never saw him,Was most desir'd of all men; let me blush,And then I'le say I love him.

Dua. All men see, In this a womans vertue.

Gui. I expectedFor the courtesie I did, long since to have seen him,And though I then forbad it, you men know,Between our hearts and tongues there's a large distance;But I'le excuse him, may be hithertoHe has forborn it, in respect my SonFell by his hand.

Dua. And reason Lady.

Gui. No, he did me a pleasure in't, a riotous fellow,And with that insolent, not worth the owning;I have indeed kept a long solemn sorrow,For my friends sake partly; but especiallyFor his long absence.

Dua. O the Devil.

Guio. ThereforeBid him be speedy; a Priest shall be readyTo tye the holy knot; this kiss I send him,Deliver that and bring him.

Dua. I am dumb: A good cause I have now, and a good sword, And something I shall do, I wait upon you. [Exeunt.

Enter Manuel, Charino, Arnoldo, Zenocia, born in a chair. 2 Doctors, Clodio.

Doct. Give her more air, she dyes else.

Arn. O thou dread power,That mad'st this all, and of thy workmanshipThis virgin wife, the Master piece, look down on her;Let her minds virtues, cloth'd in this fair garment,That worthily deserves a better nameThan flesh and bloud, now sue, and prevail for her.Or if those are denyed, let innocence,To which all passages in Heaven stand open,Appear in her white robe, before thy throne;And mediate for her: or if this age of sinBe worthy of a miracle, the SunIn his diurnal progress never sawSo sweet a subject to imploy it on.

Man. Wonders are ceas'd Sir, we must work by means.

Arno. 'Tis true, and such reverend Physicians are;To you thus low I fall then; so may you everBe stil'd the hands of Heaven, natures restorers;Get wealth and honours; and by your success,In all your undertakings, propagateYour great opinion in the world, as nowYou use your saving art; for know good Gentlemen,Besides the fame, and all that I possess,For a reward, posterity shall standIndebted to you, for (as Heaven forbid it)Should my Zenocia dye, robbing this ageOf all that's good or gracefull, times succeeding,The story of her pure life not yet perfect,Will suffer in the want of her example.Doct. Were all the world to perish with her, weCan do no more, than what art and experienceGive us assurance of, we have us'd all meansTo find the cause of her disease, yet cannot;How should we then, promise the cure?Arn. Away,I did bely you, when I charg'd you withThe power of doing, ye are meer names only,And even your best perfection, accidental;What ever malady thou art, or Spirit,As some hold all diseases that afflict us,As love already makes me sensibleOf half her sufferings, ease her of her part,And let me stand the butt of thy fell malice,And I will swear th'art mercifull.

Doct. Your hand Lady; What a strange heat is here! bring some warm water.

Arn. She shall use nothing that is yours; my sorrow Provides her of a better bath, my tears Shall do that office.

Zeno. O my best Arnoldo!The truest of all lovers! I would liveWere heaven so pleas'd, but to reward your sorrowWith my true service; but since that's denied me,May you live long and happy: do not suffer(By your affection to me I conjure you)My sickness to infect you; though much loveMakes you too subject to it.

Arn. In this only

Zenocia wrongs her servant; can the bodySubsist, the Soul departed? 'tis as easieAs I to live without you; I am your husband,And long have been so, though our adverse fortune,Bandying us from one hazard to another,Would never grant me so much happiness,As to pay a husbands debt; despite of fortune,In death I'le follow you, and guard mine own;And there enjoy what here my fate forbids me.

Clod. So true a sorrow, and so feelingly Exprest, I never read of.

Man. I am struck With wonder to behold it, as with pity.

Char. If you that are a stranger, suffer for them,Being tied no further than humanityLeads you to soft compassion; think great Sir,What of necessity I must endure,That am a Father?Hippolyta, Zabulon, and Sulpitia at the door.

Zab. Wait me there, I hold it Unfit to have you seen; as I find cause, You shall proceed.

Man. You are welcom Lady.

Hip. Sir, I come to do a charitable office, How does the patient?

Clod. You may enquireOf more than one; for two are sick, and deadly,He languishes in her, her health's despair'd of,And in hers, his.

Hip. 'Tis a strange spectacle, With what a patience they sit unmov'd! Are they not dead already?

Doct. By her pulse, She cannot last a day.

Arn. Oh by that summons, I know my time too!

Hip. Look to the man.

Clod. ApplyYour Art, to save the Lady, preserve her,A town is your reward.

_Hip. I'le treble it, In ready gold, if you restore Arnoldo; For in his death I dye too.

Clod. Without her I am no more.

Arn. Are you there Madam? nowYou may feast on my miseries; my coldnessIn answering your affections, or hardness,Give it what name you please, you are reveng'd of,For now you may perceive, our thred of lifeWas spun together, and the poor ArnoldoMade only to enjoy the best Zenocia,And not to serve the use of any other;And in that she may equal; my Lord ClodioHad long since else enjoyed her, nor could IHave been so blind, as not to see your greatAnd many excellencies far, far beyondOr my deservings, or my hopes; we are nowGoing our latest journey, and together,Our only comfort we desire, pray give it,Your charity to our ashes, such we must be,And not to curse our memories.

Hip. I am much mov'd.