Part 16

VER. Noble Piracquo! TOM. Pray, keep on your way, sir; I've nothing to say to you. VER. Comforts bless you, sir! TOM. I've forsworn compliment, in troth, I have, sir; As you are merely man, I have not left A good wish for you, nor [for] any here. VER. Unless you be so far in love with grief, You will not part from’t upon any terms, We bring that news will make a welcome for us. TOM. What news can that be? VER. Throw no scornful smile Upon the zeal I bring you,’tis worth more, sir; Two of the chiefest men I kept about me I hide not from the law or your just vengeance. TOM. Ha! VER. To give your peace more ample satisfaction, Thank these discoverers. TOM. If you bring that calm, Name but the manner I shall ask forgiveness in For that contemptuous smile [I threw][495] upon you, I'll perfect it with reverence that belongs Unto a sacred altar. [_Kneels._ VER. [_raising him_] Good sir, rise; Why, now you overdo as much ’a this hand As you fell short ’a t’other.—Speak, Alibius. ALIB. ’Twas my wife’s fortune, as she is most lucky At a discovery, to find out lately, Within our hospital of fools and madmen, Two counterfeits slipp’d into these disguises, Their names Franciscus and Antonio. VER. Both mine, sir, and I ask no favour for ’em. ALIB. Now that which draws suspicion to their habits, The time of their disguisings agrees justly With the day of the murder. TOM. O blest revelation! VER. Nay, more, nay, more, sir—I'll not spare mine own In way of justice—they both feign’d a journey To Briamata,[496] and so wrought out their leaves; My love was so abus’d in’t. TOM. Time’s too precious To run in waste now; you have brought a peace The riches of five kingdoms could not purchase: Be my most happy conduct; I thirst for ’em: Like subtle lightning will I wind about ’em, And melt their marrow in ’em. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

ALSEMERO’S _apartment[497] in the castle_.

_Enter_ ALSEMERO _and_ JASPERINO.

JAS. Your confidence, I'm sure, is now of proof; The prospect from the garden has shew’d[498] Enough for deep suspicion. ALS. The black mask That so continually was worn upon’t Condemns the face for ugly ere’t be seen, Her despite to him, and so seeming bottomless. JAS. Touch it home then; ’tis not a shallow probe Can search this ulcer soundly; I fear you’ll find it Full of corruption: ’tis fit I leave you, She meets you opportunely from that walk; She took the back door at his parting with her. [_Exit._

ALS. Did my fate wait for this unhappy stroke At my first sight of woman? She is here.

_Enter_ BEATRICE.

BEAT. Alsemero! ALS. How do you? BEAT. How do I? Alas, how do you, [sir]? you look not well. ALS. You read me well enough, I am not well. BEAT. Not well, sir? is’t in my power to better you? ALS. Yes. BEAT. Nay, then you’re cur’d again. ALS. Pray, resolve me one question, lady. BEAT. If I can. ALS. None can so sure: are you honest? BEAT. Ha, ha, ha! that’s a broad question, my lord. ALS. But that’s not a modest answer, my lady: Do you laugh? my doubts are strong upon me. BEAT.’Tis innocence that smiles, and no rough brow Can take away the dimple in her cheek: Say I should strain a tear to fill the vault, Which would you give the better faith to? ALS. ’Twere but hypocrisy of a sadder colour, But the same stuff; neither your smiles nor tears Shall move or flatter me from my belief: You are a whore! BEAT. What a horrid sound it hath! It blasts a beauty to deformity; Upon what face soever that breath falls, It strikes it ugly: O, you have ruin’d What you can ne’er repair again! ALS. I'll all Demolish, and seek out truth within you, If there be any left; let your sweet tongue Prevent your heart’s rifling; there I'll ransack And tear out my suspicion. BEAT. You may, sir; It is an easy passage; yet, if you please, Shew me the ground whereon you lost your love; My spotless virtue may but tread on that Before I perish. ALS. Unanswerable; A ground you cannot stand on; you fall down Beneath all grace and goodness when you set Your ticklish heel on it: there was a visor Over that cunning face, and that became you; Now impudence in triumph rides upon’t; How comes this tender reconcilement else 'Twixt you and your despite, your rancorous loathing, De Flores? he that your eye was sore at sight of, He’s now become your arm’s supporter, your Lip’s saint! BEAT. Is there the cause? ALS. Worse, your lust’s devil, Your adultery! BEAT. Would any but yourself say that, 'Twould turn him to a villain! ALS. It was witness’d By the counsel of your bosom, Diaphanta. BEAT. Is your witness dead then? ALS.’Tis to be fear’d It was the wages of her knowledge; poor soul, She liv’d not long after the discovery. BEAT. Then hear a story of not much less horror Than this your false suspicion is beguil’d with; To your bed’s scandal I stand up innocence, Which even the guilt of one black other deed Will stand for proof of; your love has made me A cruel murderess. ALS. Ha! BEAT. A bloody one; I have kiss’d poison for it, strok’d a serpent: That thing of hate, worthy in my esteem Of no better employment, and him most worthy To be so employ’d, I caus’d to murder That innocent Piracquo, having no Better means than that worst to assure Yourself to me. ALS. O, the place itself e’er since Has crying been for vengeance! the temple, Where blood and beauty first unlawfully Fir’d their devotion and quench’d the right one; ’Twas in my fears at first, ’twill have it now: O, thou art all deform’d! BEAT. Forget not, sir, It for your sake was done: shall greater dangers Make the less welcome? ALS. O, thou should’st have gone A thousand leagues about to have avoided This dangerous bridge of blood! here we are lost. BEAT. Remember, I am true unto your bed. ALS. The bed itself’s a charnel, the sheets shrouds For murder’d carcasses. It must ask pause What I must do in this; meantime you shall Be my prisoner only: enter my closet; [_Exit_ BEATRICE _into closet_. I'll be your keeper yet. O, in what part Of this sad story shall I first begin? Ha! This same fellow has put me in.—

_Enter_ DE FLORES.

De Flores. DE F. Noble Alsemero! ALS. I can tell you News, sir; my wife has her commended to you. DE F. That’s news indeed, my lord; I think she would Commend me to the gallows if she could, She ever loved me so well; I thank her. ALS. What’s this blood upon your band, De Flores? DE F. Blood! no, sure ’twas wash’d since. ALS. Since when, man? DE F. Since t’other day I got a knock In a sword-and-dagger school; I think ’tis out. ALS. Yes, ’tis almost out, but ’tis perceiv’d though. I had forgot my message; this it is, What price goes murder? DE F. How, sir? ALS. I ask you, sir; My wife’s behindhand with you, she tells me, For a brave bloody blow you gave for her sake Upon Piracquo. DE F. Upon? ’twas quite through him sure: Has she confess’d it? ALS. As sure as death to both of you; And much more than that. DE F. It could not be much more; ’Twas but one thing, and that—she is a whore. ALS. I[t] could not choose but follow: O cunning devils! How should blind men know you from fair-fac’d saints? BEAT. [_within_] He lies! the villain does belie me! DE F. Let me go to her, sir. ALS. Nay, you shall to her.— Peace, crying crocodile, your sounds are heard; Take your prey to you;—get you in to her, sir: [_Exit_ DE FLORES _into closet_. I'll be your pander now; rehearse again Your scene of lust, that you may be perfect When you shall come to act it to the black audience, Where howls and gnashings shall be music to you: Clip[499] your adulteress freely, ’tis the pilot Will guide you to the _mare mortuum_, Where you shall sink to fathoms bottomless.

_Enter_ VERMANDERO, TOMASO, ALIBIUS, ISABELLA, FRANCISCUS, _and_ ANTONIO.

VER. O Alsemero! I've a wonder for you. ALS. No, sir, ’tis I, I have a wonder for you. VER. I have suspicion near as proof itself For Piracquo’s murder. ALS. Sir, I have proof Beyond suspicion for Piracquo’s murder. VER. Beseech you, hear me; these two have been disguis’d E'er since the deed was done. ALS. I have two other That were more close disguis’d than your two could be E'er since the deed was done. VER. You’ll hear me—these mine own servants. ALS. Hear me—those nearer than your servants That shall acquit them, and prove them guiltless. FRAN. That may be done with easy truth, sir. TOM. How is my cause bandied through your delays! ’Tis urgent in [my] blood, and calls for haste; Give me a brother [or] alive or dead; Alive, a wife with him; if dead, for both A recompense, for murder and adultery. BEAT. [_within_] O, O, O! ALS. Hark! ’tis coming to you. DE F. [_within_] Nay, I'll along for company. BEAT. [_within_] O, O! VER. What horrid sounds are these? ALS. Come forth, you twins Of mischief!

_Re-enter_ DE FLORES, _dragging in_ BEATRICE _wounded_.

DE F. Here we are; if you have any more To say to us, speak quickly, I shall not Give you the hearing else; I am so stout yet, And so, I think, that broken rib of mankind. VER. An host of enemies enter’d my citadel Could not amaze like this: Joanna! Beatrice! Joanna! BEAT. O, come not near me, sir, I shall defile you! I am that of your blood was taken from you For your better health; look no more upon’t, But cast it to the ground regardlessly, Let the common sewer take it from distinction: Beneath the stars, upon yon meteor [_Pointing to_ DE FLORES.

Ever hung[500] my fate, ’mongst things corruptible; I ne’er[501] could pluck it from him; my loathing Was prophet to the rest, but ne’er believ’d: Mine honour fell with him, and now my life.— Alsemero, I'm a stranger to your bed; Your bed was cozen’d on the nuptial night, For which your false bride died. ALS. Diaphanta? DE F. Yes, and the while I coupled with your mate At barley-break;[502] now we are left in hell. VER. We are all there, it circumscribes [us] here. DE F. I lov’d this woman in spite of her heart: Her love I earn’d out of Piracquo’s murder. TOM. Ha! my brother’s murderer? DE F. Yes, and her honour’s prize Was my reward; I thank life for nothing But that pleasure; it was so sweet to me, That I have drunk up all, left none behind For any man to pledge me. VER. Horrid villain! Keep life in him for further tortures. DE F. No! I can prevent you; here’s my pen-knife still; It is but one thread more [_stabbing himself_] and now ’tis cut.— Make haste, Joanna, by that token to thee, Canst not forget, so lately put in mind; I would not go to leave thee far behind. [_Dies._ BEAT. Forgive me, Alsemero, all forgive! ’Tis time to die when ’tis a shame to live. _Dies._ VER. O, my name’s enter’d now in that record Where till this fatal hour ’twas never read! ALS. Let it be blotted out; let your heart lose it, And it can never look you in the face, Nor tell a tale behind the back of life To your dishonour; justice hath so right The guilty hit, that innocence is quit By proclamation, and may joy again.— Sir, you are sensible of what truth hath done; ’Tis the best comfort that your grief can find. TOM. Sir, I am satisfied; my injuries Lie dead before me; I can exact no more, Unless my soul were loose, and could o’ertake Those black fugitives that are fled from hence,[503] To take a second vengeance; but there are wraths Deeper than mine, ’tis to be fear’d, about ’em. ALS. What an opacous body had that moon That last chang’d on us! here is beauty chang’d To ugly whoredom; here servant-obedience To a master-sin, imperious murder; I, a supposed husband, chang’d embraces With wantonness,—but that was paid before.— Your change is come too, from an ignorant wrath To knowing friendship.—Are there any more on’s? ANT. Yes, sir, I was changed too from a little ass as I was to a great fool as I am; and had like to ha' been changed to the gallows, but that you know my innocence[504] always excuses me. FRAN. I was chang’d from a little wit to be stark mad, Almost for the same purpose. ISA. Your change is still behind, But deserve best your transformation: You are a jealous coxcomb, keep schools of folly, And teach your scholars how to break your own head. ALIB. I see all apparent, wife, and will change now Into a better husband, and ne’er keep Scholars that shall be wiser than myself. ALS. Sir, you have yet a son’s duty living, Please you, accept it; let that your sorrow, As it goes from your eye, go from your heart, Man and his sorrow at the grave must part.— All we can do[505] to comfort one another, To stay a brother’s sorrow for a brother, To dry a child from the kind father’s eyes, Is to no purpose, it rather multiplies: Your only smiles have power to cause re-live The dead again, or in their rooms to give Brother a new brother, father a child; If these appear, all griefs are reconcil’d. [_Exeunt omnes._

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A GAME AT CHESS.

Of _A Game at Chess_ I have seen three different editions, all 4to, n. d. To two of them, abounding in the grossest errors, is prefixed the engraved title-page, of which a fac-simile is given in the present work. The other edition, which is comparatively very correct, and which I have therefore made the basis of my text (designating it in the notes as Quarto C.), has also an engraved title-page, but less curious and containing fewer figures than that above mentioned.[506]

Mr. J. P. Collier possesses a letter-press title-page of the play, “_Printed_ 1625,” belonging to some edition of which, I believe, no copies are known to exist.

A MS. of _A Game at Chess_, dated 1624, is in the British Museum (_Lansdown_, 690); and another, imperfect, in the library at Bridgewater House: I have collated both for the present edition.

This allegorical and political drama was brought on the stage in 1624; and its production forms a memorable incident in the author’s life: see Account of Middleton and his Writings.

Two of the most important characters in the play are the Black-Knight, that is, Gondonmar the Spanish ambassador, and the Fat Bishop, that is, Antonio de Dominis. The story of the latter is thus concisely related by Hume: “The famous Antonio di Dominis, Archbishop of Spalato, no despicable philosopher, came likewise into England [in 1616], and afforded great triumph to the nation by their gaining so considerable a proselyte from the papists. But the mortification followed soon after. For the Archbishop, though advanced to some ecclesiastical preferments, received not encouragement sufficient to satisfy his ambition, and he made his escape into Italy [in 1622], where soon after he died in confinement.” _Hist. of England_, vol. vi. p. 136, ed. 1763. Such particulars concerning Antonio as were necessary for the illustration of the text will be found in my notes. That he was a man of a restless spirit, vain, ambitious, and avaricious, is no more to be doubted than that his talents and acquirements were of a superior order.

The White King and the Black King represent, I presume, the respective monarchs of England and Spain (see Secretary Conway’s letter in Account of Middleton and his Writings); and the White Queen’s Pawn seems intended to stand for the Church of England.

THE PICTURE PLAINLY EXPLAINED AFTER THE MANNER OF THE CHESS-PLAY.

A Game at Chess is here display’d, Between the Black and White House made, Wherein crown-thirsting policy For the Black House, by fallacy, To the White Knight check often gives, And to some straits him thereby drives; The Fat Black Bishop helps also, With faithless heart, to give the blow: Yet, maugre all their craft, at length The White Knight, with wit-wondrous strength And circumspective prudency, Gives check-mate by discovery To the Black Knight: and so at last, The Game thus won, the Black House cast Into the Bag, and therein shut, Find all their plumes and cocks-combs cut. Plain dealing thus, by wisdom’s guide, Defeats the cheats of craft and pride.

PROLOGUE.

What of the game call’d Chess-play can be made To make a stage-play, shall this day be play’d: First, you shall see the men in order set, States[507] and their Pawns, when both the sides are met, The Houses well distinguish’d; in the game Some men entrapt and taken to their shame, Rewarded by their play; and, in the close, You shall see check-mate given to virtue’s foes: But the fair’st jewel that our hopes can deck, Is so to play our game t' avoid your check.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

_White King._ _Black King._ _White Knight._ _Black Knight._ _White Duke._ _Black Duke._ _White Bishop._ _Black Bishop._ _Pawns._ _Pawns._ _Fat Bishop._ _His Pawn._ _White Queen._ _Black Queen._ _Her Pawn._ _Her Pawn._

IN THE INDUCTION.

IGNATIUS LOYOLA. ERROR.

A GAME AT CHESS.

INDUCTION.

ERROR _discovered asleep: enter_ IGNATIUS LOYOLA.

IGN. Ha! where? what angle[508] of the world is this, That I can neither see the politic face, Nor with my refin’d nostrils taste[509] the footsteps Of any my disciples, sons and heirs As well of my designs as institution? I thought they had spread over the world by this time, Cover’d the earth’s face, and made dark the land, Like the Egyptian grasshoppers. Here’s too much light appears, shot from the eyes Of Truth and Goodness never yet deflower’d: Sure they were never here; then is their monarchy Unperfect yet; a just reward, I see, For their ingratitude so long to me, Their father and their founder. ’Tis not five years since I was sainted by ’em: Where slept mine honour all the time before? Could they be so forgetful to canonize Their prosperous institutor? when they had sainted me, They found no room in all their calendar To place my name, that should have remov’d princes, Pull’d the most eminent prelates by the roots up For my dear coming, to make way for me; Let every petty martyr and saint homily, Roch,[510] Main,[511] and Petronill,[512] itch and ague-curers, Your abbess Aldegund[513] and Cunegund,[514] The widow Marcell,[515] parson Polycarp,[516] Cecily[517] and Ursula,[518] all take place of me; And but for the bissextile or leap-year, And that’s but one in three. I fall by chance Into the nine-and-twentieth day of February; There were no room else for me: see their love, Their conscience too, to thrust me a lame soldier[519] Into leap-year! My Wrath’s up, and, methinks, I could with the first syllable of my name Blow up their colleges.—Up, Error, wake! Father of supererogation, rise! It is Ignatius calls thee, Loyola. ERROR. What have you done? O, I could sleep in ignorance Immortally, the slumber is so pleasing! I saw the bravest setting for a game now That ever mine eye fix’d on. IGN. What game, prithee? ERROR. The noblest game of all, a game at chess, Betwixt our side and the White House; the men set In their just order, ready to go to’t. IGN. Were any of my sons plac’d for the game? ERROR. Yes, and a daughter too; a secular daughter That plays the Black Queen’s Pawn, he the Black Bishop’s. IGN. If ever power could shew a mastery[520] in thee, Let it appear in this! ERROR. ’Tis but a dream, A vision, you must think. IGN. I care not what, So I behold[521] the children of my cunning, And see what rank they keep. ERROR. You have your wish:

_Music: enter severally, in order of the game, the White and Black Houses._

Behold, there’s the full number of the game, Kings and their Pawns, Queens, Bishops, Knights, and Dukes. IGN. Dukes? they’re call’d Rooks by some. ERROR. Corruptedly; _Le roc_[522] the word, _custode[523] de la roche_, The keeper of the forts, in whom both Kings Repose much confidence; and for their trust-sake, Courage, and worth, do well deserve those titles. IGN. The answer’s high: I see my son and daughter.[524] ERROR. Those are two Pawns, the Black Queen’s and Black[525] Bishop’s. IGN. Pawns argue but poor spirits and slight performents,[526] Nor worthy of the name of my disciples: If I had stood so nigh, I would have cut That Bishop’s throat but I'd have had his place, And told the Queen a love-tale in her ear Would make her best pulse dance: there’s no elixir Of brain or spirit amongst ’em. ERROR. Why, would you have them play against themselves? That’s quite against the rule of game, Ignatius. IGN. Pish, I would rule myself, not observe rule. ERROR. Why, then, you’d play a game all by yourself. IGN. I would do any thing to rule alone: ’Tis rare to have the world reign’d in by one.[527] ERROR. See ’em anon, and mark ’em in their play; Observe, as in a dance, they glide away. [_Exeunt the two Houses._ IGN. O, with what longings will this breast be tost, Until I see this great game won and lost! [_Exeunt._

ACT I. SCENE I.

_Field between the two Houses._

_Enter severally White Queen’s Pawn and Black Queen’s Pawn._

B. Q. PAWN. I ne’er see that face but my pity rises; When I behold so clear a masterpiece Of heaven’s art wrought out of dust and ashes, And at next thought to give her lost eternally, In being not ours, but the daughter of heresy, My soul bleeds at mine eyes. W. Q. PAWN. Where should truth speak, If not in such a sorrow? they’re tears plainly: Beshrew me, if she weep[528] not heartily! What is my peace to her to take such pains in’t? If I wander to loss, and with broad eyes Yet miss the path she can run blindfold in Through often exercise, why should my oversight, Though in the best game that e’er Christian lost, Raise the least spring of pity in her eyes? ’Tis doubtless a great charity; and no virtue Could win me surer. B. Q. PAWN. Blessed things prevail with’t! If ever goodness made a gracious promise, It is in yonder look: what little pains Would build a fort for virtue to all memory In that sweet creature, were the ground-work firmer![529] W. Q. PAWN. It hath been all my glory to be firm In what I have profess’d. B. Q. PAWN. That is the enemy That steals your strength away, and fights against you, Disarms[530] your soul even in the heat of battle; Your firmness that way makes you more infirm For the right Christian conflict. There I spied A zealous primitive sparkle but now flew From your devoted eye, Able to blow up all the[531] heresies That ever sate in council with your spirit. And here comes he whose sanctimonious breath Can[532] make that spark a flame: list to him, virgin, At whose first entrance princes will fall prostrate; Women are weaker vessels.

_Enter Black Bishop’s Pawn._