Part 11

ALV. Good, good: you would fain kill him, and revenge Your father’s death? LOUIS. I would. ALV. Bravely, or scurvily?[377] LOUIS. Not basely, for the world! ALV. We are secure. [_Produces two swords._ Young Louis, two more trusty blades than these Spain has not in her arm[or]y: with this Alvarez slew thy father; and this other Was that the king of France wore when great Charles In a set battle took him prisoner; Both I resign to thee. LOUIS. This is a new mystery. ALV. Now see this naked bosom; turn the points Of either on this bulwark, if thou covet’st, Out of a sprightly youth and manly thirst Of vengeance, blood; if blood be thy ambition, Then call to mind the fatal blow that struck De Castro, thy brave father, to his grave; Remember who it was that gave that blow, His enemy Alvarez: hear, and be sudden, Behold Alvarez! LOUIS. Death, I am deluded! ALV. Thou art incredulous; as fate is certain, I am the man. LOUIS. Thou that butcher? ALV. Tremble not, young man; trust me, I have wept Religiously to wash off from my conscience The stain of my offence: twelve years and more, Like to a restless pilgrim I have run From foreign lands to lands to find out death. I'm weary of my life; give me a sword: That thou mayst know with what a perfect zeal I honour old De Castro’s memory, I'll fight with thee; I would not have thy hand Dipp’d in a wilful murder; I could wish For one hour’s space I could pluck back from time But thirty of my years, that in my fall Thou might’st deserve report: now if thou conquer’st, Thou canst not triumph, I'm half dead already, Yet I'll not start a foot. LOUIS. Breathes there a spirit In such a heap of age?[378] ALV. O, that I had A son of equal growth with thee, to tug For reputation! by thy father’s ashes, I would not kill thee for another Spain, Yet now I'll do my best. Thou art amaz’d; Come on. LOUIS. Twelve tedious winters' banishment? ’Twas a long time. ALV. Could they redeem thy father, Would every age had been twelve ages, Louis, And I for penance every age a-dying! But ’tis too late to wish. LOUIS. I am o’ercome; Your nobleness hath conquer’d me: here ends All strife between our families, and henceforth Acknowledge me for yours. ALV. O, thou reviv’st Fresh horrors to my fact! for in thy gentleness I see my sin anew. LOUIS. Our peace is made; Your life shall be my care: ’twill be glad news To all our noble friends. ALV. Since heaven will have it so, I thank thee, glorious majesty! My son, For I will call thee [so], ere the next morrow Salute the world, thou shalt know stranger mysteries. LOUIS. I have enough to feed on: sir, I'll follow ye. _Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A room in_ FERNANDO’S _house_.

_Enter_ FERNANDO, GUIAMARA, _and_ CONSTANZA.

FER. Don John, son to the count of Carcomo? Woman, take heed thou trifle not. GUI. Is this, My lord, so strange? FER. Beauty in youth, and wit To set it forth, I see, transform[379] the best Into what shape love fancies. CONST. Will you yet Give me my husband’s life? FER. Why, little one, He is not married to thee. CONST. In his faith He is; and faith and troth I hope bind faster Than any other ceremonies can; Do they not, pray, my lord? FER. Yes, where the parties Pledg’d are not too unequal in degree, As he and thou art. CONST. This is new divinity. GUI. My lord, behold this child well: in her face You may observe, by curious insight, something More than belongs to every common birth. FER. True, ’tis a pretty child. GUI. The glass of misery Is, after many a change of desperate fortune, At length run out: you had a daughter call’d Constanza? FER. Ha! GUI. A sister, Guiamara, Wife to the count Alvarez? FER. Peace, O, peace! GUI. And to that sister’s charge you did commit Your infant daughter, in whose birth your wife, Her mother, died? FER. Woman, thou art too cruel! CONST. What d’ye mean, granam? ’las, the nobleman Grows angry! FER. Not I, indeed I do not:— But why d’ye use me thus? GUI. Your child and sister, As you suppos’d, were drown’d? FER. Drown’d? talking creature! Suppos’d? GUI. They live; Fernando, from my hand, Thy sister’s hand, receive thine own Constanza, The sweetest, best child living. CONST. Do you mock me? FER. Torment me on; yet more, more yet, and spare not, My heart is now a-breaking; now! GUI. O brother! Am I so far remov’d off from your memory, As that you will not know me? I expected Another welcome home: look on this casket, [_Shewing casket._ The legacy your lady left her daughter, When to her son she gave her crucifix. FER. Right, right; I know ye now. GUI. In all my sorrows, My comfort has been here, she should be [yours], Be yours [at last].—Constanza, kneel, sweet child, To thy old father. CONST. How? my father? [_Kneels._ FER. Let not Extremity of joys ravish life from me Too soon, heaven, I beseech thee! Thou art my sister, My sister Guiamara! How have mine eyes Been darken’d all this while! ’tis she! GUI. ’Tis, brother; And this Constanza, now no more a stranger, No Pretiosa henceforth. FER. My soul’s treasure, Live to an age of goodness; and so thrive In all thy ways, that thou mayst die to live! CONST. But must I call you father? FER. Thou wilt rob me else Of that felicity, for whose sake only I am ambitious of being young again: Rise, rise, mine own Constanza! CONST. [_rising_] ’Tis a new name, But ’tis a pretty one; I may be bold To make a suit t’ye? FER. Any thing. CONST. O father, And if you be my father, think upon Don John my husband! without him, alas, I can be nothing! FER. As I without thee; Let me alone, Constanza.—Tell me, tell me, Lives yet Alvarez? GUI. In your house. FER. Enough: Cloy me not; let me by degrees disgest[380] My joys.—Within, my lords Francisco, Pedro! Come all at once! I have a world within me; I am not mortal sure, I am not mortal:

_Enter_ FRANCISCO, PEDRO, MARIA, RODERIGO, _and_ CLARA.

My honourable lord[s], partake my blessings; [The] count Alvarez lives here in my house; Your son, my lord Francisco, Don John, is The condemn’d man falsely accus’d of theft; This, my lord Pedro, is my sister Guiamara; Madam, this [is] Constanza, mine own child, And I am a wondrous merry man.—Without! The prisoner!

_Enter_ ALVAREZ, LOUIS, JOHN, DIEGO, SANCHO, SOTO, _and_ CARDOCHIA.

LOUIS. Here, free and acquitted, By her whose folly drew her to this error; And she for satisfaction is assur’d[381] To my wrong’d friend. CARD. I crave your pardons; He whose I am speaks for me. DIEGO. We both beg it! FER. Excellent! admirable! my dear brother! ALV. Never a happy man till now; young Louis And I are reconcil’d. LOUIS. For ever, faithfully, Religiously. FRAN. } My noble lord, most welcome! PED., _&c._[382] } ALV. To all my heart pays what it owes, due thanks; Most, most, brave youth, to thee! JOHN. I all this while Stand but a looker-on; and though my father May justly tax the violence of my passions, Yet if this lady, lady of my life, Must be denied, let me be as I was, And die betimes. CONST. You promis’d me—— FER. I did.— My lord of Carcomo, you see their hearts Are join’d already, so let our consents To this wish’d marriage. FRAN. I forgive thine errors; Give me thy hand. FER. Me thine.[383]—But wilt thou love My daughter, my Constanza? JOHN. As my bliss. CONST. I thee as life, youth, beauty, any thing That makes life comfortable. FER. Live together One, ever one! FRAN. } And heaven crown your happiness! ROD., _&c._[384] } PED. Now, sir, how like you a prison? SAN. As gallants do a tavern, being stopped for a reckoning, scurvily. SOTO. Though you caged us up never so close, we sung like cuckoos. FER. Well, well, you be[385] yourself now. SAN. Myself?—am I out of my wits, Soto? FER. Here now are none but honourable friends: Will you, to give a farewell to the life You ha' led as gipsies, these being now found none, But noble in their births, alter’d in fortunes, Give it a merry shaking by the hand, And cry adieu to folly? SAN. We’ll shake our hands, and our heels, if you’ll give us leave. [_A dance._ FER. On, brides and bridegrooms! to your Spanish feasts Invite with bent knees[386] all these noble guests. [_Exeunt omnes._

THE CHANGELING.

_The Changeling: As it was Acted (with great Applause) at the Privat house in Drury-Lane, and Salisbury Court._

{ _Thomas Midleton_ } _Written by_ { and } _Gent._ { _William Rowley_ }

_Never Printed before. London, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the sign of the Princes-Arms in St Pauls Church-yard, 1653._ 4to. The edition just described was put forth with a new title-page in 1668,—_The Changeling: As it was Acted (with great Applause) by the Servants of His Royal Highness the Duke of York, at the Theatre in Lincolns-Inn Fields_, &c.

_The Changeling_ has been reprinted in the 4th vol. of _A Continuation of Dodsley’s Old Plays_, 1816.

“The foundation of the Play,” says Langbaine, “may be found in Reynold[s]’s _Gods Revenge against Murther_. See the Story of Alsemero and Beatrice Joanna, Book I. Hist. 4.” _Acc. of Engl. Dram. Poets_, p. 371. To the story in Reynolds’s work the following Argument is prefixed: “Beatrice-Joana, to marry Alsemero, causeth De Flores to murther Alfonso Piracquo, who was a Suiter to her. Alsemero marries her,f and finding De Flores and her in adultery, kills them both. Thomaso Piracquo challengeth Alsemero for his Brothers death. Alsemero kills him treacherously in the field, and is beheaded for the same, and his body thrown into the Sea. At his Execution he confesseth that his Wife and De Flores murthered Alfonso Piracquo: their bodies are taken up out of their graves, then burnt, and their Ashes thrown into the Air.” The authors of _The Changeling_, as the reader will perceive, have deviated in some important points from the prose narrative of Reynolds; nor are they indebted to that source for the characters of Jasperino, Alibius, Lollio, Pedro, Antonio, Franciscus, and Isabella.

An edition (I believe, the earliest) of the First Book of _The Triumphs of Gods Revenge against Murther_, was printed in 1621: see _Cat. Bibl. Bodlei_.

A “Note of such playes as were acted at court in 1623 and 1624,” in Sir Henry Herbert’s Office-book, records: “Upon the Sonday after, beinge the 4 of January 1623, by the Queene of Bohemias company, _The Changelinge_, the prince only being there. Att Whitehall.” Malone’s _Shakespeare_ (by Boswell), vol. iii. p. 227.

The part of Antonio, from which this once-popular drama has its name (_Changeling_—i. e. idiot, fool), appears to have been much relished by the audience: the last comic performer before the Civil Wars who obtained reputation in it was Robins: see Collier’s _Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poetry_, vol. ii. p. 107. Downes mentions that Betterton, when about twenty-two years of age, was highly applauded in the character of De Flores, and that Sheppy gave great satisfaction in that of Antonio: see _Roscius Anglicanus_, p. 26, ed. Waldron. Pepys has noted, under date of 23d Feb. 1660-1, “To the Playhouse, and there saw _The Changeling_, the first time it hath been acted these twenty years, and it takes exceedingly.” _Diary_, vol. i. p. 179, ed. 8vo.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

VERMANDERO, _governor of the castle of Alicant_. ALONZO DE PIRACQUO, } TOMASO DE PIRACQUO, } _brothers_. ALSEMERO. JASPERINO, _his friend_. ALIBIUS, _a doctor, who undertakes the cure of fools and madmen_. LOLLIO, _his man_. ANTONIO, _a pretended changeling_. PEDRO, his friend. FRANCISCUS, _a counterfeit madman_. DE FLORES, _an attendant on Vermandero_. _Madmen._ _Servants._

BEATRICE-JOANNA, _daughter to Vermandero_. DIAPHANTA, _her waiting-woman_. ISABELLA, _wife to Alibius_.

Scene, ALICANT.

THE CHANGELING.

ACT I. SCENE I.

_A street._

_Enter_ ALSEMERO.

ALS. ’Twas in the temple where I first beheld her, And now again the same: what omen yet Follows of that? none but imaginary; Why should my hopes or fate be timorous? The place is holy, so is my intent: I love her beauties to the holy purpose; And that, methinks, admits comparison With man’s first creation, the place blessed, And is his right home back, if he achieve it. The church hath first begun our interview, And that’s the place must join us into one; So there’s beginning and perfection too.

_Enter_ JASPERINO.

JAS. O sir, are you here? come, the wind’s fair with you; You’re like to have a swift and pleasant passage. ALS. Sure, you’re deceiv’d, friend; it is contrary, In my best judgment. JAS. What, for Malta?[387] If you could buy a gale[388] amongst the witches, They could not serve you such a lucky pennyworth As comes a' God’s name. ALS. Even now I observ’d The temple’s vane to turn full in my face; I know it is against me. JAS. Against you? Then you know not where you are. ALS. Not well, indeed. JAS. Are you not well, sir? ALS. Yes, Jasperino, Unless there be some hidden malady Within me, that I understand not. JAS. And that I begin to doubt, sir: I never knew Your inclination to travel[389] at a pause, With any cause to hinder it, till now. Ashore you were wont to call your servants up, And help to trap your horses for the speed; At sea I've seen you weigh the anchor with ’em, Hoist sails for fear to lose the foremost breath, Be in continual prayers for fair winds; And have you chang’d your orisons? ALS. No, friend; I keep the same church, same devotion. JAS. Lover I'm sure you’re none; the stoic was Found in you long ago; your mother nor Best friends, who have set snares of beauty, ay, And choice ones too, could never trap you that way: What might be the cause? ALS. Lord, how violent Thou art! I was but meditating of Somewhat I heard within the temple. JAS. Is this Violence? ’tis but idleness compar’d With your haste yesterday. ALS. I'm all this while A-going, man. JAS. Backwards, I think, sir. Look, your servants.

_Enter Servants._

FIRST SER. The seamen call; shall we board your trunks? ALS. No, not to-day. JAS. ’Tis the critical day, it seems, and the sign in Aquarius. SEC. SER. We must not to sea to-day; this smoke will bring forth fire. ALS. Keep all on shore; I do not know the end, Which needs I must do, of an affair in hand Ere I can go to sea. FIRST SER. Well, your pleasure. SEC. SER. Let him e’en take his leisure too; we are safer on land. [_Exeunt Servants._

_Enter_ BEATRICE, DIAPHANTA, _and Servants_: ALSEMERO _accosts_ BEATRICE _and then kisses her_.

JAS. How now? the laws of the Medes are changed sure; salute a woman! he kisses too; wonderful! where learnt he this? and does it perfectly too; in my conscience, he ne’er rehearsed it before. Nay, go on; this will be stranger and better news at Valencia than if he had ransomed half Greece from the Turk. [_Aside._ BEAT. You are a scholar, sir? ALS. A weak one, lady. BEAT. Which of the sciences is this love you speak of? ALS. From your tongue I take it to be music. BEAT. You’re skilful in it, can sing at first sight. ALS. And I have shew’d you all my skill at once; I want more words to express me further, And must be forc’d to repetition; I love you dearly. BEAT. Be better advis’d, sir: Our eyes are sentinels unto our judgments, And should give certain judgment what they see; But they are rash sometimes, and tell us wonders Of common things, which when our judgments find, They can then check the eyes, and call them blind. ALS. But I am further, lady; yesterday Was mine eyes' employment, and hither now They brought my judgment, where are both agreed: Both houses then consenting, ’tis agreed; Only there wants the confirmation By the hand royal, that is your part, lady. BEAT. There’s one[390] above me, sir.—O, for five days past To be recall’d! sure mine eyes were mistaken; This was the man was meant me: that he should come So near his time, and miss it! [_Aside._ JAS. We might have come by the carriers from Valencia, I see, and saved all our sea-provision; we are at farthest sure: methinks I should do something too; I meant to be a venturer in this voyage: Yonder’s another vessel, I'll board her; If she be lawful prize, down goes her topsail. [_Accosts_ DIAPHANTA.

_Enter_ DE FLORES.

DE F. Lady, your father—— BEAT. Is in health, I hope. DE F. Your eye shall instantly instruct you, lady; He’s coming hitherward. BEAT. What needed then Your duteous preface? I had rather He had come unexpected; you must stale[391] A good presence with unnecessary blabbing; And how welcome for your part you are, I'm sure you know. DE F. Will’t never mend this scorn, One side nor other? must I be enjoin’d To follow still whilst she flies from me? well, Fates, do your worst, I'll please myself with sight Of her at all opportunities, If but to spite her anger: I know she had Rather see me dead than living; and yet She knows no cause for’t but a peevish will. [_Aside._ ALS. You seem’d displeasèd, lady, on the sudden. BEAT. Your pardon, sir, ’tis my infirmity; Nor can I other reason render you, Than his or hers, of[392] some particular thing They must abandon as a deadly poison, Which to a thousand other tastes were wholesome; Such to mine eyes is that same fellow there, The same that report speaks of the basilisk. ALS. This is a frequent frailty in our nature; There’s scarce a man amongst a thousand found But hath his imperfection: one distastes The scent of roses, which to infinites Most pleasing is and odoriferous; One oil, the enemy of poison; Another wine, the cheerer of the heart And lively refresher of the countenance: Indeed this fault, if so it be, is general; There’s scarce a thing but is both lov’d and loath’d: Myself, I must confess, have the same frailty. BEAT. And what may be your poison, sir? I'm bold with you. ALS. What[393] might be your desire, perhaps; a cherry. BEAT. I am no enemy to any creature My memory has, but yon gentleman. ALS. He does ill to tempt your sight, if he knew it. BEAT. He cannot be ignorant of that, sir, I have not spar’d to tell him so; and I want To help myself, since he’s a gentleman In good respect with my father, and follows him. ALS. He’s out of his place then now. [_They talk apart._ JAS. I am a mad wag, wench. DIA. So methinks; but, for your comfort, I can tell you, we have a doctor in the city that undertakes the cure of such. JAS. Tush, I know what physic is best for the state of mine own body. DIA. ’Tis scarce a well-governed state, I believe. JAS. I could shew thee such a thing with an ingredience[394] that we two would compound together, and if it did not tame the maddest blood i' th' town for two hours after, I'll ne’er profess physic again. DIA. A little poppy, sir, were good to cause you sleep. JAS. Poppy? I'll give thee a pop i' th' lips for that first, and begin there: poppy is one simple indeed, and cuckoo-what-you-call’t another: I'll discover no more now; another time I'll shew thee all. [_Exit._ BEAT. My father, sir.

_Enter_ VERMANDERO _and Servants_.

VER. O Joanna, I came to meet thee; Your devotion’s ended? BEAT. For this time, sir.— I shall change my saint, I fear me; I find A giddy turning in me. [_Aside._]—Sir, this while I am beholding[396] to this gentleman, who Left his own way to keep me company, And in discourse I find him much desirous To see your castle;[397] he hath deserv’d it, sir, If ye please to grant it. VER. With all my heart, sir: Yet there’s an article between, I must know Your country; we use not to give survey Of our chief strengths to strangers; our citadels Are plac’d conspicuous to outward view, On promonts'[398] tops, but within are secrets. ALS. A Valencian, sir. VER. A Valencian? That’s native, sir: of what name, I beseech you? ALS. Alsemero, sir. VER. Alsemero? not the son Of John de Alsemero? ALS. The same, sir. VER. My best love bids you welcome. BEAT. He was wont To call me so, and then he speaks a most Unfeignèd truth. VER. O sir, I knew your father; We two were in acquaintance long ago, Before our chins were worth iulan[399] down, And so continu’d till the stamp of time Had coin’d us into silver: well, he’s gone; A good soldier went with him. ALS. You went together in that, sir. VER. No, by Saint Jaques, I came behind him; Yet I've done somewhat too: an unhappy day Swallowed him at last at Gibraltar, In fight with those rebellious Hollanders; Was it not so? ALS. Whose death I had reveng’d,[400] Or follow’d him in fate, had not the late league Prevented me. VER. Ay, ay, ’twas time to breathe.— O, Joanna, I should ha' told thee news; I saw Piracquo lately. BEAT. That’s ill news. [_Aside._ VER. He’s hot preparing for this[401] day of triumph: Thou must be a bride within this sevennight. ALS. Ha! [_Aside._ BEAT. Nay, good sir, be not so violent; with speed I cannot render satisfaction Unto the dear companion of my soul, Virginity, whom I thus long have liv’d with, And part with it so rude and suddenly; Can such friends divide, never to meet again, Without a solemn farewell? VER. Tush, tush! there’s a toy.[402] ALS. I must now part, and never meet again With any joy on earth. [_Aside._]—Sir, your pardon; My affairs call on me. VER. How, sir? by no means: Not chang’d so soon, I hope? you must see my castle, And her best entertainment, ere we part, I shall think myself unkindly usèd else. Come, come, let’s on; I had good hope your stay Had been a while with us in Aligant;[403] I might have bid you to my daughter’s wedding. ALS. He means to feast me, and poisons me beforehand.— [_Aside._ I should be dearly glad to be there, sir, Did my occasions suit as I could wish. BEAT. I shall be sorry if you be not there When it is done, sir; but not so suddenly. VER. I tell you, sir, the gentleman’s complete, A courtier and a gallant, enrich’d With many fair and noble ornaments; I would not change him for a son-in-law For any he in Spain, the proudest he, And we have great ones, that you know. ALS. He’s much Bound to you, sir. VER. He shall be bound to me As fast as this tie can hold him; I'll want My will else. BEAT. I shall want mine, if you do it. [_Aside._ VER. But come, by the way I'll tell you more of him. ALS. How shall I dare to venture in his castle, When he discharges murderers[404] at the gate? But I must on, for back I cannot go. [_Aside._ BEAT. Not this serpent gone yet?

[_Aside._ _Drops a glove._