Part 22

DUKE. My lords, Know that we, far from any natural pride, Or touch of temporal sway, have seen our face In our grave council’s foreheads, where doth stand Our truest glass, made by Time’s wrinkled hand. We know we’re old; my days proclaim me so; Forty-five years I’ve gently rul’d this dukedom; Pray heaven it be no fault! For there’s as much disease, though not to th’ eye, In too much pity as in tyranny. INFES. Your grace hath spoke it right. DUKE. I know that life Has not long course in me; ’twill not be long Before I shew that kings have mortal bodies As well as subjects: therefore to my comfort, And your successful hopes, I have a son, Whom I dare boast of—— LUS. Whom we all do boast of; A prince elder in virtues than in years. INFES. His judgment is a father to his youth. PROD. Ay, ay, would he were from court! [_Aside._ INFES. Our largest hopes grow in him. PROD. And ’tis the greatest pity, noble lord, He is untravell’d. LUS. ’Tis indeed, my lord. PROD. Had he but travel to his time and virtue— O, he should ne’er return again! [_Aside._ DUKE. It shall be so: what is in hope begun,[793] Experience quickens; travel confirms the man, Who[794] else lives doubtful, and his days oft sorry: Who’s rich in knowledge has the stock of glory. PROD. Most true, my royal lord. DUKE. Some one attend our son. INFES. See, here he comes, my lord.

_Enter_ PHŒNIX, _attended by_ FIDELIO.

DUKE. O, you come well. PHŒ. ’Tis always my desire, my worthy father. DUKE. Your serious studies, and those fruitful hours That grow up into judgment, well become Your birth, and all our loves: I weep that you are my son, But virtuously I weep, the more my gladness. We have thought good and meet, by the consent Of these our nobles, to move you toward travel, The better to approve you to yourself, And give your apter power foundation: To see affections actually presented, E’en by those men that owe[795] them, yield[s] more profit, Ay, more content, than singly to read of them, Since love or fear make writers partial. The good and free example which you find In other countries, match it with your own, The ill to shame the ill; which will in time Fully instruct you how to set in frame A kingdom all in pieces. PHŒ. Honour’d father, With care and duty I have listen’d to you. What you desire, in me it is obedience: I do obey in all, knowing for right, Experience is a kingdom’s better sight. PROD. O, ’tis the very lustre of a prince, Travel! ’tis sweet and generous. DUKE. He that knows how to obey, knows how to reign; And that true knowledge have we found in you. Make choice of your attendants. PHŒ. They’re soon chose; Only this man, my lord, a loving servant of mine. DUKE. What! none but he? PHŒ. I do intreat no more; For that’s the benefit a private gentleman Enjoys beyond our state, when he notes all, Himself unnoted. For, should I bear the fashion of a prince, I should then win more flattery than profit, And I should give ’em time and warning then To hide their actions from me: if I appear a sun, They’ll run into the shade with their ill deeds, And so prevent[796] me. PROD. A little too wise,[797] a little too wise to live long. [_Aside._ DUKE. You have answer’d us with wisdom: let it be; Things private are best known through privacy. [_Exeunt all but_ PHŒNIX _and_ FIDELIO. PHŒ. Stay you, my elected servant. FID. My kind lord. PHŒ. The duke my father has a heavy burden Of years upon him. FID. My lord, it seems so, for they make him stoop. PHŒ. Without dissemblance he is deep in age; He bows unto his grave. I wonder much Which of his wild nobility it should be (For none of his sad[798] council has a voice in’t), Should so far travel into his consent, To set me over into other kingdoms, Upon the stroke and minute of his death? FID. My lord, ’tis easier to suspect them all, Than truly to name one. PHŒ. Since it is thus, By absence I’ll obey the duke my father, And yet not wrong myself. FID. Therein, my lord, You might be happy twice. PHŒ. So it shall be; I’ll stay at home, and travel. FID. Would your grace Could make that good! PHŒ. I can: and, indeed, a prince need no[t] travel farther than his own kingdom, if he apply himself faithfully, worthy the glory of himself and expectation of others: and it would appear far nobler industry in him to reform those fashions that are already in his country, than to bring new ones in, which have neither true form nor fashion; to make his court an owl, city an ape, and the country a wolf preying upon the ridiculous pride of either: and therefore I hold it a safer stern,[799] upon this lucky advantage, since my father is near his setting, and I upon the eastern hill to take my rise, to look into the heart and bowels of this dukedom, and, in disguise, mark all abuses ready for reformation or punishment. FID. Give me but leave unfeignedly to admire you, Your wisdom is so spacious and so honest. PHŒ. So much have the complaints and suits of men, seven, nay, seventeen years neglected, still interposed by coin and great enemies, prevailed with my pity, that I cannot otherwise think but there are infectious dealings in most offices, and foul mysteries throughout all professions: and therefore I nothing doubt but to find travel enough within myself, and experience, I fear, too much: nor will I be curious[800] to fit my body to the humblest form and bearing, so the labour may be fruitful; for how can abuses that keep low, come to the right view of a prince, unless his looks lie level with them, which else will be longest hid from him?—he shall be the last man sees ’em.

For oft between kings’ eyes and subjects’ crimes Stands there a bar of bribes: the under office Flatters him next above it, he the next, And so of most, or many. Every abuse will choose a brother: ’Tis through the world, this hand will rub the other. FID. You have set down the world briefly, my lord. PHŒ. But how am I assur’d of faith in thee? Yet I durst trust thee. FID. Let my soul be lost, When it shall loose your secrets: nor will I Only be a preserver of them, but, If you so please, an assister. PHŒ. It suffices: That king stands sur’st who by his virtue rises More than by birth or blood; that prince is rare, Who strives in youth to save his age from care. Let’s be prepar’d; away. FID. I’ll follow your grace.— [_Exit_ PHŒNIX. Thou wonder of all princes, president, and glory, True Phœnix, made of an unusual strain! Who labours to reform is fit to reign. How can that king be safe that studies not The profit of his people? See where comes The best part of my heart, my love.

_Enter_ NIECE.[801]

NIECE. Sir, I am bound to find you: I heard newly Of sudden travel which his grace intends, And only but yourself to accompany him. FID. You heard in that little beside the truth; Yet not so sudden as to want those manners, To leave you unregarded. NIECE. I did not think so unfashionably of you. How long is your return? FID. ’Tis not yet come to me, scarce to my lord. Unless the duke refer it to his pleasure; But long I think it is not: the duke’s age, If not his apt experience, will forbid it. NIECE. His grace commands, I must not think amiss: Farewell. FID. Nay, stay, and take this comfort; You shall hear often from us; I’ll direct Where you shall surely know; and I desire you Write me the truth, how my new father-in-law The captain bears himself toward my mother; For that marriage Knew nothing of my mind, it never flourish’d In any part of my affection. NIECE. Methinks sh’as much disgrac’d herself. FID. Nothing so, If he be good, and will abide the touch; A captain may marry a lady, if he can sail Into her good will. NIECE. Indeed that’s all. FID. ’Tis all In all; commend me to thy breast; farewell. [_Exit_ NIECE. So by my lord’s firm policy we may see, To present view, what absent forms would be. [_Exit._

## SCENE II.

_A Room in the_ CAPTAIN’s _House_..

_Enter the_ CAPTAIN _with soldiering fellows_.

FIRST SOL. There’s noble purchase,[802] captain. SECOND SOL. Nay, admirable purchase. THIRD SOL. Enough to make us proud for ever. CAP. Hah? FIRST SOL. Never was opportunity so gallant. CAP. Why, you make me mad. SECOND SOL. Three ships, not a poop less. THIRD SOL. And every one so wealthily burdened, upon my manhood. CAP. Pox on’t, and now am I tied e’en as the devil would ha’t. FIRST SOL. Captain, of all men living, I would ha’ sworn thou wouldst ne’er have married. CAP. ’S foot, so would I myself, man; give me my due; you know I ha’ sworn all heaven over and over? FIRST SOL. That you have, i’faith. CAP. Why, go to then. FIRST SOL. Of a man that has tasted salt water to commit such a fresh trick! CAP. Why, ’tis abominable! I grant you, now I see’t. FIRST SOL. Had there been fewer women—— SECOND SOL. And among those women fewer drabs—— THIRD SOL. And among those drabs fewer pleasing—— CAP. Then ’t had been something—— FIRST SOL. But when there are more women, more common, pretty sweethearts, than ever any age could boast of—— CAP. And I to play the artificer and marry! to have my wife dance at home, and my ship at sea, and both take in salt water together! O lieutenant, thou’rt happy! thou keepest a wench. FIRST SOL. I hope I am happier than so, captain, for a’ my troth, she keeps me. CAP. How? is there any such fortunate man breathing? and I so miserable to live honest! I envy thee, lieutenant, I envy thee, that thou art such a happy knave. Here’s my hand among you; share it equally; I’ll to sea with you. SECOND SOL. There spoke a noble captain! CAP. Let’s hear from you; there will be news shortly. FIRST SOL. Doubt it not, captain. [_Exeunt all but_ CAPTAIN. CAP. What lustful passion came aboard of me, that I should marry? was I drunk? yet that cannot altogether hold, for it was four a’ clock i’ th’ morning; had it been five, I would ha’ sworn it. That a man is in danger every minute to be cast away, without he have an extraordinary pilot that can perform more than a man can do! and to say truth too, when I’m abroad, what can I do at home? no man living can reach so far: and what a horrible thing ’twould be to have horns brought me at sea, to look as if the devil were i’ th’ ship! and all the great tempests would be thought of my raising! to be the general curse of all merchants! and yet they likely are as deep in as myself; and that’s a comfort. O, that a captain should live to be married! nay, I that have been such a gallant salt-thief, should yet live to be married! What a fortunate elder brother is he, whose father being a rammish ploughman, himself a perfumed gentleman spending the labouring reek from his father’s nostrils in tobacco, the sweat of his father’s body in monthly physic for his pretty queasy[803] harlot! he sows apace i’ th’ country; the tailor o’ertakes him i’ th’ city, so that oftentimes before the corn comes to earing,[804] ’tis up to the ears in high collars, and so at every harvest the reapers take pains for the mercers: ha! why, this is stirring happiness indeed. Would my father had held a plough so, and fed upon squeezed curds and onions, that I might have bathed in sensuality! but he was too ruttish himself to let me thrive under him; consumed me before he got me; and that makes me so wretched now to be shackled with a wife, and not greatly rich neither.

_Enter_ CASTIZA.[805]

CAS. Captain, my husband. CAP. ’S life, call me husband again, and I’ll play the captain and beat you. CAS. What has disturb’d you, sir, that you now look So like an enemy upon me? CAP. Go make a widower [of me], hang thyself! How comes it that you are so opposite To love and kindness? I deserve more respect, But that you please to be forgetful of it. CAS. For love to you, did I neglect my state, Chide better fortunes from me, Gave the world talk, laid all my friends at waste! CAP. The more fool you: could you like none but me? Could none but I supply you? I am sure You were sued to by far worthier men, Deeper in wealth and gentry. What couldst thou see in me, to make thee doat So on me? If I know I am a villain, What a torment’s this! Why didst thou marry me? You think, as most of your insatiate widows, That captains can do wonders; when, alas,[806] The name does often prove the better man! CAS. That which you urge should rather give me cause To repent than yourself. CAP. Then to that end I do it.[807] CAS. What a miserable state Am I led into!

_Enter Servant._[808]

CAP. How now, sir? SERV. Count Proditor Is now alighted. CAP. What, my lord? I must Make much of him; he’ll one day write me cuckold; It is[809] good to make much of such a man: E’en to my face he plies it hard,—I thank him.

_Enter_ PRODITOR.

What, my worthy lord? PROD. I’ll come to you In order, captain. [_Kisses_ CASTIZA. CAP. O that’s in order! A kiss is the gamut to pricksong. PROD. Let me salute you, captain. [_Exit_ CASTIZA. CAP. My dear Esteemed count, I have a life for you. PROD. Hear you the news? CAP. What may it be, my lord? PROD. My lord, the duke’s son, is upon his travel To several kingdoms. CAP. May it be possible, my lord, And yet so little rumour’d? PROD. Take’t of my truth;[810] Nay, ’twas well manag’d; things are as they are handl’d: But all my care is still, pray heaven he return Safe, without danger, captain. CAP. Why, is there any doubt To be had of that, my lord? PROD. Ay, by my faith, captain: Princes have private enemies, and great. Put case a man should grudge him for his virtues, Or envy him for his wisdom; why, you know, This makes him lie bare-breasted to his foe. CAP. That’s full of certainty, my lord; but who Be his attendants? PROD. Thence, captain, comes the fear; But singly[811] attended neither (my best gladness), Only by your son-in-law, Fidelio. CAP. Is it to be believed? I promise you, my lord, then I begin to fear him myself; that fellow will undo him: I durst undertake to corrupt him with twelvepence over and above, and that’s a small matter; has a whorish conscience; he’s an inseparable knave,[812] and I could ne’er speak well of that fellow. PROD. All we of the younger house, I can tell you, do doubt him much. The lady’s removed: shall we have your sweet society, captain? CAP. Though it be in mine own house, I desire I may follow your lordship. PROD. I love to avoid strife.—— Not many months Phœnix shall keep his life. [_Aside and exit._ CAP. So; his way is in; he knows it. We must not be uncourteous to a lord; Warn him our house ’twere vild.[813] His presence is an honour: if he lie with our wives, ’tis for our credit; we shall be the better trusted; ’tis a sign we shall live i’ th’ world. O, tempests and whirlwinds! who but that man whom the forefinger[814] cannot daunt, that makes his shame his living—who but that man, I say, could endure to be throughly married? Nothing but a divorce can relieve me: any way to be rid of her would rid my torment; if all means fail, I’ll kill or poison her, and purge my fault at sea. But first I’ll make gentle try of a divorce: but how shall I accuse her subtle honesty? I’ll attach this lord’s coming to her, take hold of that, ask counsel: and now I remember, I have acquaintance with an old crafty client, who, by the puzzle of suits and shifting of courts, has more tricks and starting-holes than the dizzy pates of fifteen attorneys; one that has been muzzled in law like a bear, and led by the ring of his spectacles from office to office. Him I’ll seek out with haste; all paths I’ll tread, All deaths I’ll die, ere I die married. [_Exit._

## SCENE III.

_Another Room in the_ CAPTAIN’s _House_.

_Enter_ PRODITOR _and_ CASTIZA.

PROD. Pooh, you do resist me hardly. CAS. I beseech your lordship, cease in this: ’tis never to be granted. If you come as a friend unto my honour, and my husband, you shall be ever welcome; if not, I must entreat it—— PROD. Why, assure yourself, madam, ’tis not the fashion. CAS. ’Tis more my grief, my lord; such as myself Are judg’d the worse for such. PROD. Faith, you’re too nice: You’ll see me kindly forth? CAS. And honourably welcome.[815] [_Exeunt._

## SCENE IV.

_A Room in an Inn._

_Enter Groom lighting in_ PHŒNIX _and_ FIDELIO.

GROOM. Gentlemen, you’re most neatly welcome. PHŒ. You’re very cleanly, sir: prithee, have a care to our geldings. GROOM. Your geldings shall be well considered. FID. Considered? PHŒ. Sirrah, what guess[816] does this inn hold now? GROOM. Some five and twenty gentlemen, besides their beasts. PHŒ. Their beasts? GROOM. Their wenches, I mean, sir; for your worship knows those that are under men are beasts. PHŒ. How does your mother, sir? GROOM. Very well in health, I thank you heartily, sir. PHŒ. And so is my mare, i’faith. GROOM. I’ll do her commendations indeed, sir. FID. Well kept up, shuttlecock! PHŒ. But what old fellow was he that newly alighted before us? GROOM. Who, he? as arrant a crafty fellow as e’er made water on horseback. Some say, he’s as good as a lawyer; marry, I’m sure he’s as bad as a knave: if you have any suits in law, he’s the fittest man for your company; has been so towed[817] and lugged himself, that he is able to afford you more knavish counsel for ten groats than another for ten shillings. PHŒ. A fine fellow! but do you know him to be a knave, and will lodge him? GROOM. Your worship begins to talk idly; your bed shall be made presently: if we should not lodge knaves, I wonder how we should be able to live honestly: are there honest men enough, think you, in a term-time to fill all the inns in the town? and, as far as I can see, a knave’s gelding eats no more hay than an honest man’s; nay, a[818] thief’s gelding eats less, I’ll stand to’t; his master allows him a better ordinary; yet I have my eightpence day and night: ’twere more for our profit, I wus,[819] you were all thieves, if you were so contented. I shall be called for: give your worships good morrow. [_Exit._ PHŒ. A royal knave, i’faith: we have happened into a godly inn. FID. Assure you, my lord, they belong all to one church. PHŒ. This should be some old, busy, turbulent fellow: [a] villanous law-worm, that eats holes into poor men’s causes.

_Enter_ TANGLE _with two Suitors, and Groom_.