Читать книгу Beaumont & Fletchers Works (1 of 10) – the Custom of the Country - Beaumont Francis - Страница 3

Man. I Hear and see too much of him, and that

Compels me Madam, though unwillingly,

To wish I had no Uncles part in him,

And much I fear, the comfort of a Son

You will not long enjoy.

Gui. 'Tis not my fault,

And therefore from his guilt my innocence

Cannot be tainted, since his Fathers death,

(Peace to his soul) a Mothers prayers and care

Were never wanting, in his education.

His Child-hood I pass o're, as being brought up

Under my wing; and growing ripe for study,

I overcame the tenderness, and joy

I had to look upon him, and provided

The choicest Masters, and of greatest name

Of Salamanca, in all liberal Arts.

Gui. How there he prospered to the admiration

Of all that knew him, for a general Scholar,

Being one of note, before he was a man,

Is still remembred in that Academy,

From thence I sent him to the Emperours Court,

Attended like his Fathers Son, and there

Maintain'd him, in such bravery and height,

As did become a Courtier.

Man. 'Twas that spoil'd him, my Nephew had been happy.

The Court's a School indeed, in which some few

Learn vertuous principles, but most forget

What ever they brought thither good and honest.

Trifling is there in practice, serious actions

Are obsolete and out of use, my Nephew

Had been a happy man, had he ne're known

What's there in grace and fashion.

Gui. I have heard yet,

That while he liv'd in Court, the Emperour

Took notice of his carriage and good parts,

The Grandees did not scorn his company,

And of the greatest Ladies he was held

A compleat Gentleman.

Man. He indeed Daunc'd well;

A turn o'th' Toe, with a lofty trick or two,

To argue nimbleness, and a strong back,

Will go far with a Madam: 'tis most true,

That he's an excellent Scholar, and he knows it;

An exact Courtier, and he knows that too;

He has fought thrice, and come off still with honour,

Which he forgets not.

Man. You are mistaken,

Prosperity does search a Gentlemans temper,

More than his adverse fortune: I have known

Many, and of rare parts from their success

In private Duels, rais'd up to such a pride,

And so transform'd from what they were, that all

That lov'd them truly, wish'd they had fallen in them.

I need not write examples, in your Son

'Tis too apparent; for e're Don Duarte

Made tryal of his valour, he indeed was

Admired for civil courtesie, but now

He's swoln so high, out of his own assurance,

Of what he dares do, that he seeks occasions,

Unjust occasions, grounded on blind passion,

Ever to be in quarrels, and this makes him

Shunn'd of all fair Societies.

Gui. Would it were

In my weak power to help it: I will use

With my entreaties th' Authority of a Mother,

As you may of an Uncle, and enlarge it

With your command, as being a Governour

To the great King in _Lisbon.

Page. I did my Lord,

But to no purpose, for he seems more willing

To sit down with the wrongs, than to repair

His honour by the sword; he knows too well,

That from your Lordship nothing can be got

But more blows, and disgraces.

Dua. He's a wretch,

A miserable wretch, and all my fury

Is lost upon him; holds the Mask, appointed

I'th' honour of Hippolyta?

Page. This was one, they heard your Lordship

Was by the Ladies choice to lead the Dance,

And therefore they, too well assur'd how far

You would outshine 'em, gave it o're and said,

They would not serve for foiles to set you off.

Page. Yes,

Young Don Alonzo, the great Captains Nephew,

Stood on comparisons.

Page. With you,

And openly profess'd that all precedence,

His birth and state consider'd, was due to him,

Nor were your Lordship to contend with one

So far above you.

Dua. I look down upon him

With such contempt and scorn, as on my slave,

He's a name only, and all good in him

He must derive from his great grandsires Ashes,

For had not their victorious acts bequeath'd

His titles to him, and wrote on his forehead,

This is a Lord, he had liv'd unobserv'd

By any man of mark, and died as one

Amongst the common route. Compare with me?

'Tis Gyant-like ambition; I know him,

And know my self, that man is truly noble,

And he may justly call that worth his own,

Which his deserts have purchas'd, I could wish

My birth were more obscure, my friends and kinsmen

Of lesser power, or that my provident Father

Had been like to that riotous Emperour

That chose his belly for his only heir;

For being of no family then, and poor

My vertues wheresoe'r I liv'd, should make

That kingdom my inheritance.

Dua. For if I studied the Countries Laws,

I should so easily sound all their depth,

And rise up such a wonder, that the pleaders,

That now are in most practice and esteem,

Should starve for want of Clients: if I travell'd,

Like wise Ulysses to see men and manners,

I would return in act, more knowing, than

Homer could fancy him; if a Physician,

So oft I would restore death-wounded men,

That where I liv'd, Galen should not be nam'd,

And he that joyn'd again the scatter'd limbs

Of torn Hippolytus should be forgotten.

I could teach Ovid courtship, how to win

A Julia, and enjoy her, though her Dower

Were all the Sun gives light to: and for arms

Were the Persian host that drank up Rivers, added

To the Turks present powers, I could direct,

Command, and Marshal them.

Gui. Why then being Master

Of such and so good parts do you destroy them,

With self opinion, or like a rich miser,

Hoard up the treasures you possess, imparting

Nor to your self nor others, the use of them?

They are to you but like inchanted viands,

On which you seem to feed, yet pine with hunger;

And those so rare perfections in my Son

Which would make others happy, render me

A wretched Mother.

Man. You are too insolent.

And those too many excellencies, that feed

Your pride, turn to a Pleurisie, and kill

That which should nourish vertue; dare you think

All blessings are confer'd on you alone?

Y'are grosly cousen'd; there's no good in you,

Which others have not: are you a Scholar? so

Are many, and as knowing: are you valiant?

Waste not that courage then in braules, but spend it

In the Wars, in service of your King and Country.

Man. Sir, in Lisbon

I am: and you shall know it; every hour

I am troubled with complaints of your behaviour

From men of all conditions, and all sexes.

And my authority, which you presume

Will bear you out, in that you are my Nephew,

No longer shall protect you, for I vow

Though all that's past I pardon, I will punish

The next fault with as much severity

As if you were a stranger, rest assur'd on't.

Gui. And by that love you should bear, or that duty

You owe a Mother, once more I command you

To cast this haughtiness off; which if you do,

All that is mine, is yours, if not, expect

My prayers, and vows, for your conversion only,