Part 28

CAP. AGER. Well, your wills now? FIRST FR. OF CAP. Our wills? our loves, our duties To honour’d fortitude: what wills have we But our desires to nobleness and merit, Valour’s advancement, and the sacred rectitude Due to a valorous cause? CAP. AGER. O that’s not mine! SEC. FR. OF CAP. War has his court of justice, that’s the field, Where all cases of manhood are determin’d, And your case is no mean one. CAP. AGER. True; then 'twere virtuous; But mine is in extremes, foul and unjust. Well, now you’ve got me hither, you’re as far To seek in your desire as at first minute; For by the strength and honour of a vow, I will not lift a finger in this quarrel. FIRST FR. OF CAP. How? not in this? be not so rash a sinner: Why, sir, do you ever hope to fight again then? Take heed on’t; you must never look for that: Why, th’ universal stock of the world’s injury Will be too poor to find a quarrel for you. Give up your right and title to desert, sir: If you fail virtue here, she needs you not All your time after; let her take this wrong, And never presume then to serve her more: Bid farewell to th’ integrity of arms, And let that honourable name of soldier Fall from you like a shiver’d wreath of laurel By thunder struck from a desertless forehead, That wears another’s right by usurpation. Good captain, do not wilfully cast away At one hour all the fame your life has won: This is your native seat; here you should seek Most to preserve it; or if you will dote So much on life,—poor life, which in respect Of life in honour is but death and darkness,— That you will prove neglectful of yourself, Which is to me too fearful to imagine, Yet for that virtuous lady’s cause, your mother, Her reputation, dear to nobleness As grace to penitence, whose fair memory E'en crowns fame in your issue, for that blessedness Give not this ill place, but in spite of hell, And all her base fears, be exactly valiant. CAP. AGER. O, O! SEC. FR. OF CAP. Why, well said, there’s fair hope in that; Another such a one! CAP. AGER. Came they in thousands, ’Tis all against you. FIRST FR. OF CAP. Then, poor friendless merit, Heaven be good to thee! thy professor leaves thee.

_Enter Colonel and two Friends._

He’s come;[753] do but you draw, we’ll fight it for you. CAP. AGER. I know too much to grant that. FIRST FR. OF CAP. O dead manhood! Had ever such a cause so faint a servant? Shame brand me, if I do not suffer for him! COL. I’ve heard, sir, you’ve been guilty of much boasting For your brave earliness at such a meeting: You’ve lost the glory of that way this morning; I was the first to-day. CAP. AGER. So were you ever In my respect, sir. FIRST FR. OF CAP. O most base præludium! CAP. AGER. I never thought on Victory, our mistress, With greater reverence than I have your worth, Nor ever lov’d her better. FIRST FR. OF CAP. ’Slight, I could knock His brains 'bout his heels, methinks! SEC. FR. OF CAP. Peace, prithee, peace. CAP. AGER. Success in you has been my absolute joy; And when I’ve wish’d content, I’ve wish’d your friendship. FIRST FR. OF CAP. Stay, let me but run him through the tongue a little; There’s lawyer’s blood in’t, you shall see foul gear straight. SEC. FR. OF CAP. Come, you’re as mad now as he’s cowardous. COL. I came not hither, sir, for an encomium. FIRST FR. OF CAP. No, the more coxcomb he that claws the head Of your vain-glory with’t! [_Aside._ COL. I came provided For storms and tempests, and the foulest season That ever rage let forth, or blew in wildness From the incensed prison of man’s blood. CAP. AGER. ’Tis otherwise with me; I come with mildness, Peace, constant amity, and calm forgiveness, The weather of a Christian and a friend. FIRST FR. OF CAP. Give me a valiant Turk, though not worth tenpence,[754] rather. CAP. AGER. Yet, sir, the world will judge the injury mine, Insufferably[755] mine, mine beyond injury: Thousands have made a less wrong reach to hell, Ay, and rejoic’d in his most endless vengeance, A miserable triumph, though a just one! But when I call to memory our long friendship, Methinks it cannot be too great a wrong That then I should not pardon. Why should man, For a poor hasty syllable or two, And vented only in forgetful fury, Chain all the hopes and riches of his soul To the revenge of that, die lost for ever? For he that makes his last peace with his Maker In anger, anger is his peace eternally: He must expect the same return again Whose venture is deceitful; must he not, sir? COL. I see what I must do, fairly put up again; For here’ll be nothing done, I perceive that. CAP. AGER. What shall be done in such a worthless business But to be sorry, and to be forgiven; You, sir, to bring repentance, and I pardon? COL. I bring repentance, sir? CAP. AGER. If’t be too much To say repentance, call it what you please, sir; Choose your own word: I know you’re sorry for’t, And that’s as good. COL. I sorry? by fame’s honour, I am wrong’d! Do you seek for peace, and draw the quarrel larger? CAP. AGER. Then ’tis I am sorry that I thought you so. FIRST FR. OF CAP. A captain! I could gnaw his title off. CAP. AGER. Nor is it any misbecoming virtue, sir, In the best manliness to repent a wrong, Which made me bold with you. FIRST FR. OF CAP. I could cuff his head off. SEC. FR. OF CAP. Nay, pish! FIRST FR. OF CAP. Pox on him, I could eat his buttock bak’d, methinks! COL. So, once again take thou thy peaceful rest, then; [_Sheathing his sword._

But as I put thee up, I must proclaim This captain here, both to his friends and mine, That only came to see fair valour righted, A base submissive coward; so I leave him. [_Offers to go away._ CAP. AGER. O, heaven has pitied my excessive patience, And sent me a cause! now I have a cause; A coward I was never.—Come you back, sir! COL. How? CAP. AGER. You left a coward here. COL. Yes, sir, with you. CAP. AGER. ’Tis such base metal, sir, 'twill not be taken; It must home again with you. SEC. FR. OF CAP. Should this be true now! FIRST FR. OF CAP. Impossible! coward do more than bastard? COL. I prithee, mock me not, take heed you do not; For if I draw once more, I shall grow terrible, And rage will force me do what will grieve honour. CAP. AGER. Ha, ha, ha! COL. He smiles; dare it be he?—What think you, gentlemen? Your judgments, shall I not be cozen’d in him? This cannot be the man: why, he was bookish, Made an invective lately against fighting, A thing, in troth, that mov’d a little with me, Put up a fouler contumely far Than thousand cowards came to, and grew thankful. CAP. AGER. Blessed remembrance[756] in time of need! I’d lost my honour else. SEC. FR. OF CAP. Do you note his joy? CAP. AGER. I never felt a more severe necessity; Then came thy excellent pity. Not yet ready? Have you such confidence in my just manhood, That you dare so long trust me, and yet tempt me Beyond the toleration of man’s virtue? Why, would you be more cruel than your injury? Do you first take pride to wrong me, and then think me Not worth your fury? do not use me so; I shall deceive you then. Sir, either draw, And that not slightingly, but with the care Of your best preservation, with that watchfulness As you’d defend yourself from circular fire, Your sin’s rage, or her lord—this will require it— Or you’ll be too soon lost, for I’ve an anger Has gather’d mighty strength against you, mighty: Yet you shall find it honest to the last, Noble and fair. COL. I’ll venture’t once again; And if’t be but as true as it is wondrous, I shall have that I come for: your leave, gentlemen. FIRST FR. OF CAP. If he should do’t indeed, and deceive’s all now! Stay, by this hand he offers—fights, i’faith! [_Colonel and_ CAPTAIN AGER _fight_.

Fights, by this light he fights, sir! SEC. FR. OF CAP. So methinks, sir. FIRST FR. OF CAP. An absolute punto, hey? SEC. FR. OF CAP. 'Twas a passado, sir. FIRST FR. OF CAP. Why, let it pass, and[757] ’twas; I’m sure ’twas somewhat. What’s that now? SEC. FR. OF CAP. That’s a punto. FIRST FR. OF CAP. O, go to, then; I knew ’twas not far off. What a world’s this! Is coward a more stirring meat than bastard, my masters? Put in more eggs, for shame, when you get children, And make it true court-custard.—Ho, I honour thee! ’Tis right and fair; and he that breathes against it, He breathes against the justice of a man, And man to cut him off ’tis no injustice. [_The Colonel falls._

Thanks, thanks for this most unexpected nobleness! CAP. AGER. Truth never fails her servant, sir, nor leaves him With the day’s shame upon him. FIRST FR. OF CAP. Thou’st redeem’d Thy worth to the same height ’twas first esteem’d.[758] [_Exit_ CAPTAIN AGER _with his Friends_.

FIRST FR. OF COL. Alas, how is it, sir? give us some hope Of your stay with us: let your spirit be seen Above your fortune; the best fortitude Has been of fate ill-friended: now force your empire, And reign above your blood, spite of dejection; Reduce[759] the monarchy of your abler mind, Let not flesh straiten it. COL. O, just heaven has found me, And turn’d the stings[760] of my too hasty injuries Into my own blood! I pursu’d my ruin, And urg’d him past the patience of an angel: Could man’s revenge extend beyond man’s life, This would ha’ wak’d it. If this flame will light me But till I see my sister, ’tis a kind one; More I expect not from’t. Noble deserver! Farewell, most valiant and most wrong’d of men; Do but forgive me, and I’m victor then. [_Exit, led off by his Friends._

SCENE II.

_A Room in the Physician’s House._

_Enter Physician_, JANE, ANNE, _and Dutch Nurse with a Child_.

PHY. Sweet fro,[761] to your most indulgent care Take this my heart’s joy; I must not tell you The value of this jewel in my bosom. NURSE. Dat you may vell, sir; der can niet forstoore you. PHY. Indeed I cannot tell you; you know, nurse, These are above the quantity of price: Where is the glory of the goodliest trees But in the fruit and branches? the old stock Must decay; and sprigs, scions such as these, Must become new stocks, for[762] us to glory In their fruitful issue; so we are made Immortal one by other. NURSE. You spreek a most lieben fader, and ich sall do de best of tender nurses to dis infant, my pretty frokin. PHY. I know you will be loving: here, sweet friend; [_Gives money._ Here’s earnest of a large sum of love and coin To quit[763] your tender care. JANE. I have some reason too To purchase your dear care unto this infant. [_Gives money._ NURSE. You be de witness of de baptim, dat is, as you spreken, de godimother, ich vell forstoore it so. JANE. Yes, I’m the bad mother,—if it be offence. [_Aside._

ANNE. I must be a little kind too. [_Gives money._ NURSE. Much tanks to you all! dis child is much beloven; and ich sall see much care over it. PHY. Farewell.—Good sister, shew her the way forth.— I shall often visit you, kind nurse. NURSE. You sall be velcome. [_Exeunt_ ANNE _and Nurse_. JANE. O sir, what a friend have I found in you! Where my poor power shall stay in the requital, Yourself must from your fair condition[764] Make up in mere acceptance of my will. PHY. O, pray you, urge it not! we are not born For ourselves only; self-love is a sin; But in our loving donatives to others Man’s virtue best consists: love all begets; Without, all are adulterate and counterfeit. JANE. Your boundless love I cannot satisfy But with a mental memory of your virtues: Yet let me not engage your cost withal; Beseech you then take restitution Of pains and bounty which you have disburs’d For your poor debtor. PHY. You will not offer it? Do not esteem my love so mercenary To be the hire of coin: sure, I shall think You do not hold so worthily of me As I wish to deserve. JANE. No[765] recompense? Then you will beggar me with too much credit: Is’t[766] not sufficient you preserve my name, Which I had forfeited to shame and scorn, Cover my vices with a veil of love, Defend and keep me from a father’s rage, Whose love yet infinite, not knowing this, Might, knowing, turn a hate as infinite; Sure he would throw me ever from his blessings, And cast his curses on me! Yes, further, Your secrecy keeps me in the state of woman; For else what husband would choose me his wife, Knowing the honour of a bride were lost? I cannot number half the good you do me In the conceal’d retention of my sin; Then make me not worse than I was before, In my ingratitude, good sir. PHY. Again? I shall repent my love, if you’ll so call’t, To be made such a hackney: give me coin? I had as lief you gave me poison, lady, For I have art and antidotes 'gainst that; I might take that, but this I will refuse. JANE. Will you then teach me how I may requite you In some small quantity? PHY. 'Twas that I look’d for.— [_Aside._ Yes, I will tell you, lady, a full quittance, And how you may become my creditress. JANE. I beseech you, do, sir! PHY. Indeed I will, lady: Not in coin, mistress; for silver, though white, Yet it draws black lines; it shall not rule my palm, There to mark forth his base corruption: Pay me again in the same quality That I to you tender’d,—that is, love for love. Can you love me, lady? you have confess’d My love to you. JANE. Most amply. PHY. Why, faith, then, Pay me back that way. JANE. How do you mean, sir? PHY. Tush, our meanings are better understood Than shifted to the tongue; it brings along A little blabbing blood into our cheeks, That shames us when we speak. JANE. I understand you not. PHY. Fie, you do; make not yourself ignorant In what you know; you have ta’en forth the lesson That I would read to you. JANE. Sure then I need not Read it again, sir. PHY. Yes, it makes perfect: You know the way unto Achilles’ spear;[767] If that hurt you, I have the cure, you see. JANE. Come, you’re a good man; I do perceive you, You put a trial to me; I thank you; You are my just confessor, and, believe me, I’ll have no further penance for this sin. Convert a year unto a lasting ever, And call’t Apollo’s smile; ’twas once, then never. PHY. Pray you, mistake me not; indeed I love you. JANE. Indeed? what deed? PHY. The deed that you have done. JANE. I cannot believe you. PHY. Believe the deed then! JANE. Away, you are a blackamoor! you love me? I hate you for your love! Are you the man That in your painted outside seem’d so white? O you’re a foul dissembling hypocrite! You sav’d me from a thief, that yourself might rob me; Skinn’d over a green wound to breed an ulcer: Is this the practice of your physic-college? PHY. Have you yet utter’d all your niceness[768] forth? If you have more, vent it; certes,[769] I think Your first grant was not yielded with less pain; If 'twere, you have your price, yield it again. JANE. Pray you, tell me, sir,—I ask’d it before,— Is it a practice amongst you physicians? PHY. Tush, that’s a secret; we cast all waters; Should I reveal, you would mistrust my counsel: The lawyer and physician here agrees,[770] To women-clients they give back their fees; And is not that kindness? JANE. This for thy love! [_Spits at him._ Out, outside of a man! thou cinnamon-tree, That but thy bark hast nothing good about thee! The unicorn is hunted for his horn, The rest is left for carrion: thou false man, Thou’st fish’d with silver hooks and golden baits; But I’ll avoid all thy deceiving sleights.[771] PHY. Do what you list, I will do something too; Remember yet what I have done for you: You have a good face now, but 'twill grow rugged; Ere you grow old, old men will despise you: Think on your grandame Helen, the fairest queen; When in a new glass[772] she spied her old face, She, smiling, wept to think upon the change: Take your time; you’re craz’d, you’re an apple fall’n From the tree; if you be kept long, you’ll rot. Study your answer well: yet I love you; If you refuse, I have a hand above [you]. [_Exit._ JANE. Poison thyself, thou foul empoisoner! Of thine own practique drink the theory! What a white devil have I met withal! What shall I do?—what do? is it a question? Nor shame, nor hate, nor fear, nor lust, nor force, Now being too bad, shall ever make me worse.

_Re-enter_ ANNE.

What have we here? a second spirit? ANNE. Mistress, I am sent to you. JANE. Is your message good? ANNE. As you receive it: My brother sent me, and you know he loves you. JANE. I heard say so; but ’twas a false report. ANNE. Pray, pardon me, I must do my message; Who lives commanded must obey his keeper: I must persuade you to this act of woman. JANE. Woman? of strumpet! ANNE. Indeed, of strumpet; He takes you at advantage of your fall, Seeing you down before. JANE. Curse on his feign’d smiles! ANNE. He’s my brother, mistress; and a curse on you, If e’er you bless him with that cursed deed! Hang him, poison him! he held out a rose, To draw the yielding sense, which, come to hand, He shifts, and gives a canker.[773] JANE. You speak well yet. ANNE. Ay, but, mistress, now I consider it, Your reputation lies at his mercy, Your fault dwells in his breast; say he throw’t out, It will be known; how are you then undone! Think on’t, your good name; and they’re not to be sold In every market: a good name is dear, And indeed more esteemed than our actions, By which we should deserve it. JANE. Ay me, most wretched! ANNE. What? do you shrink at that? Would you not wear one spot upon your face, To keep your whole body from a leprosy, Though it were undiscover’d ever? Hang him! Fear him not: horseleeches suck out his corrupt blood! Draw you none from him, 'less it be pure and good. JANE. Do you speak your soul? ANNE. By my soul do I! JANE. Then yet I have a friend: but thus exhort me, And I have still a column to support me. ANNE. One fault Heaven soon forgives, and ’tis on earth forgot; The moon herself is not without one spot. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A Room in_ LADY AGER’S _House_.

_Enter_ LADY AGER, _meeting a Servant_.

LADY AGER. Now, sir, where is he? speak, why comes he not? I sent you for him.—Bless this fellow’s senses! What has he seen? a soul nine hours entranc’d, Hovering 'twixt hell and heaven, could not wake ghastlier. Not yet return an answer?—

_Enter a second Servant._

What say you, sir? Where is he? SEC. SERV. Gone. LADY AGER. What say’st thou? SEC. SERV. He is gone, madam; But, as we heard, unwillingly he went As ever blood enforc’d. LADY AGER. Went? whither went he? SEC. SERV. Madam, I fear I ha’ said too much already. LADY AGER. These men are both agreed.—Speak, whither went he? SEC. SERV. Why, to—I would you’d think the rest yourself, madam. LADY AGER. Meek patience bless me! SEC. SERV. To the field. FIRST SERV. To fight, madam. LADY AGER. To fight? FIRST SERV. There came two urging gentlemen, That call’d themselves his seconds; both so powerful, As ’tis reported, they prevail’d with him With little labour. LADY AGER. O, he’s lost, he’s gone! For all my pains, he’s gone! two meeting torrents Are not so merciless as their two rages: He never comes again. Wretched affection! Have I belied my faith, injur’d my goodness, Slander’d my honour for his preservation, Having but only him, and yet no happier? ’Tis then a judgment plain; truth’s angry with me, In that I would abuse her sacred whiteness For any worldly temporal respect: Forgive me then, thou glorious woman’s virtue, Admir’d where’er thy habitation is, Especially in us weak ones! O, forgive me, For ’tis thy vengeance this! To belie truth, Which is so hardly ours, with such pain purchas’d, Fastings and prayers, continence and care, Misery must needs ensue. Let him not die In that unchaste belief of his false birth, And my disgrace! whatever angel guides him, May this request be with my tears obtain’d, Let his soul know my honour is unstain’d!— [_Aside._ Run, seek, away! if there be any hope, Let me not lose him yet. [_Exeunt servants._] When I think on him, His dearness, and his worth, it earns[774] me more: They that know riches tremble to be poor. My passion is not every woman’s sorrow: She must be truly honest feels my grief, And only known to one; if such there be, They know the sorrow that oppresseth me. [_Exit_

ACT IV. SCENE I.

_The Roaring-School._[775]

_Enter the Colonel’s Friend_,[776] CHOUGH, TRIMTRAM, _Usher_, _and several Roarers_.