Читать книгу Beaumont & Fletchers Works (2 of 10) – the Humourous Lieutenant - Beaumont Francis - Страница 2

And sow your grounds, you are not for this tillage.

Madams, the best way is the upper lodgings,

There you may see at ease.

Ladies. We thank you, Sir. [Ex. Ladies, Gent.

1 Ush. Would you have all these slighted? who should report then,

The Embassadors were handsome men? his beard

A neat one? the fire of his eyes quicker than lightning,

And when it breaks, as blasting? his legs, though little ones,

Yet movers of a mass of understanding?

Who shall commend their Cloaths? who shall take notice

Of the most wise behaviour of their Feathers?

Ye live a raw man here.

2 Ush. I think I do so.

2 Cit. If I might have

But the honour to see you at my poor house, Sir,

A Capon bridled and sadled, I'le assure your worship,

A shoulder of Mutton and a pottle of Wine, Sir,

I know your Brother, he was like ye,

And shot the best at Buts—

1 Ush. Prethee good toy,

Take away thy shoulder of Mutton, it is flie-blown,

And shoulder take thy flap along, here's no place for ye;

Nay then you had best be knock'd. [Ex. Cit.

Cel. I wou'd fain see him,

The glory of this place makes me remember,

But dye those thoughts, dye all but my desires,

Even those to death are sick too; he's not here,

Nor how my eyes may guide me—

Cel. There is not,

There cannot be, six days and never see me?

There must not be desire; Sir, do you think

That if you had a Mistris—

Cel. Before I thought ye

To have a little breeding, some tang of Gentry;

But now I take ye plainly,

Without the help of any perspective,

For that ye cannot alter.

Cel. An Ass, Sir, you bray as like one,

And by my troth, me thinks as ye stand now,

Considering who to kick next, you appear to me

Just with that kind of gravity, and wisdom;

Your place may bear the name of Gentleman,

But if ever any of that butter stick to your bread—

Cel. Let him use me nobler,

And wear good Cloaths to do good Offices;

They hang upon a fellow of his vertue,

As though they hung on Gibbets.

2 Ush. When the show's past,

I'le have ye into the Cellar, there we'll dine.

A very pretty wench, a witty Rogue,

And there we'll be as merry; can ye be merry?

2 Ush. Then I'le carry ye,

And shew you all the pictures, and the hangings,

The Lodgings, Gardens, and the walks: and then, sweet,

You shall tell me where you lye.

Why are eyes set on these, and multitudes

Follow to make these wonders? O good gods!

What would these look like if my love were here?

But I am fond, forgetful.

Ant. Now your grievance, Speak short, and have as short dispatch.

1 Emb. Then thus, Sir:

In all our Royal Masters names, We tell you,

Ye have done injustice, broke the bonds of concord,

And from their equal shares, from Alexander

Parted, and so possess'd, not like a Brother,

But as an open Enemy, Ye have hedged in

Whole Provinces, man'd and maintain'd these injuries;

And daily with your sword (though they still honour ye)

Make bloudy inroads, take Towns, and ruin Castles,

And still their sufFerance feels the weight.

2 Em. Think of that love, great Sir, that honor'd friendship

Your self held with our Masters, think of that strength

When you were all one body, all one mind;

When all your swords struck one way, when your angers,

Like so many brother Billows rose together,

And curling up your foaming Crests, defied

Even mighty Kings, and in their falls entomb'd 'em;

O think of these; and you that have been Conquerours,

That ever led your Fortunes open ey'd,

Chain'd fast by confidence; you that fame courted,

Now ye want Enemies and men to match ye,

Let not your own Swords seek your ends to shame ye.

1 Ush. Room for the Prince there.

Cel. Was it the Prince they said? how my heart trembled!

'Tis he indeed; what a sweet noble fierceness

Dwells in his eyes! young Meleager like,

When he return'd from slaughter of the Boar,

Crown'd with the loves and honours of the people,

With all the gallant youth of Greece, he looks now,

Who could deny him love?

Dem. Hail Royal Father.

Ant. Ye are welcome from your sport, Sir, do you see this Gent.

You that bring Thunders in your mouths, and Earthquakes

To shake and totter my designs? can you imagine

(You men of poor and common apprehensions)

While I admit this man, my Son, this nature

That in one look carries more fire, and fierceness,

Than all your Masters in their lives; dare I admit him,

Admit him thus, even to my side, my bosom,

When he is fit to rule, when all men cry him,

And all hopes hang about his head; thus place him,

His weapon hatched in bloud, all these attending

When he shall make their fortunes, all as sudden

In any expedition he shall point 'em,

As arrows from a Tartars bow, and speeding,

Dare I do this, and fear an enemy?

Fear your great Master? yours? or yours?

Dem. O Hercules!

Who saies you do, Sir? Is there any thing

In these mens faces, or their Masters actions,

Able to work such wonders?

Cel. Now he speaks: O I could dwell upon that tongue for ever.

Dem. You call 'em Kings, they never wore those Royalties,

Nor in the progress of their lives arriv'd yet

At any thought of King: Imperial dignities,

And powerful God-like actions, fit for Princes

They can no more put on, and make 'em sit right,

Than I can with this mortal hand hold Heaven:

Poor petty men, nor have I yet forgot

The chiefest honours time, and merit gave 'em:

Lisimachus your Master, at the best,

His highest, and his hopeful'st Dignities

Was but grand-master of the Elephants;

Seleuchus of the Treasure; and for Ptolomey,

A thing not thought on then, scarce heard of yet,

Some Master of Ammunition: and must these men—

Dem. Must these, hold pace with us,

And on the same file hang their memories?

Must these examine what the wills of Kings are?

Prescribe to their designs, and chain their actions

To their restraints? be friends, and foes when they please?

Send out their Thunders, and their menaces,

As if the fate of mortal things were theirs?

Go home good men, and tell your Masters from us,

We do 'em too much honour to force from 'em

Their barren Countries, ruin their vast Cities,

And tell 'em out of love, we mean to leave 'em

(Since they will needs be Kings) no more to tread on,

Than they have able wits, and powers to manage,

And so we shall befriend 'em. Ha! what does she there?

Emb. This is your answer King?

Ant. 'Tis like to prove so.

Dem. Fie, sweet, what makes you here?

Cel. Pray ye do not chide me.

Dem. You do your self much wrong and me.

I feel my fault which only was committed

Through my dear love to you: I have not seen ye,

And how can I live then? I have not spoke to ye—

Cel. Lord, how they flock now!

Before I was afraid they would have beat me;

How these flies play i'th' Sun-shine! pray ye no services,

Or if ye needs must play the Hobby-horses,

Seek out some beauty that affects 'em: farewel,

Nay pray ye spare: Gentlemen I am old enough

To go alone at these years, without crutches. [Exit.

2 Ush. Well I could curse now: but that will not help me,

I made as sure account of this wench now, immediately,

Do but consider how the Devil has crost me,

Meat for my Master she cries, well—

3 Em. Once more, Sir, We ask your resolutions: Peace or War yet?

Dem. Tell your high hearted Masters, they shall not seek us,

Nor cool i'th' field in expectation of us,

We'l ease your men those marches: In their strengths,

And full abilities of mind and courage,

We'l find 'em out, and at their best trim buckle with 'em.

Ant. Conduct em— [Ex. Em.

Now, for this preparation: where's Leontius?

Call him in presently: for I mean in person Gentlemen

My self, with my old fortune—

Dem. Royal Sir:

Thus low I beg this honour: fame already

Hath every where rais'd Trophies to your glory,

And conquest now grown old, and weak with following

The weary marches and the bloody shocks

You daily set her in: 'tis now scarce honour

For you that never knew to fight, but conquer,

To sparkle such poor people: the Royal Eagle

When she hath tri'd [h]er young ones 'gainst the Sun,

And found 'em right; next teacheth 'em to prey,

How to command on wing, and check below her

Even Birds of noble plume; I am your own, Sir,

You have found my spirit, try it now, and teach it

To stoop whole Kingdoms: leave a little for me:

Let not your glory be so greedy, Sir,

To eat up all my hopes; you gave me life,

If to that life you add not what's more lasting

A noble name, for man, you have made a shadow:

Bless me this day: bid me go on, and lead,

Bid me go on, no less fear'd, than Antigonus,

And to my maiden sword, tye fast your fortune:

I know 'twill fight it self then: dear Sir, honour me:

Never fair Virgin long'd so.

Ant. Rise, and command then,

And be as fortunate, as I expect ye:

I love that noble will; your young companions

Bred up and foster'd with ye, I hope Demetrius,

You will make souldiers too: they must not leave ye.

Leon. Who commands, Sir?

Methinks mine eye should guide me: can there be

(If you your self will spare him so much honour)

Any found out to lead before your Armies,

So full of faith, and fire, as brave Demetrius?

King Philips Son, at his years was an old Souldier,

'Tis time his Fortune be o' wing, high time, Sir,

So many idle hours, as here he loyters,

So many ever-living names he loses,

I hope 'tis he.

Ant. 'Tis he indeed, and nobly

He shall set forward: draw you all those Garrisons

Upon the frontiers as you pass: to those

Joyn these in pay at home, our ancient souldiers,

And as you go press all the Provinces.

Leo. We shall not [need];

Believe, this hopefull Gentleman

Can want no swords, nor honest hearts to follow him,

We shall be full, no fear Sir.

Ant. You Leontius,

Because you are an old and faithfull servant,

And know the wars, with all his vantages,

Be near to his instructions, lest his youth

Lose valours best companion, staid discretion,

Shew where to lead, to lodge, to charge with safetie;

In execution not to break, nor scatter,

But with a provident anger, follow nobly:

Not covetous of blood, and death, but honour,

Be ever near his watches; cheer his labours,

And where his hope stands fair, provoke his valour;

Love him, and think it no dishonour (my Demetrius)

To wear this Jewel near thee; he is a tri'd one,

And one that even in spight of time, that sunk him,

And frosted up his strength, will yet stand by thee,

And with the proudest of thine Enemies

Exchange for bloud, and bravely: take his Counsel.

Leo. That bargain's yet to make;

Be not too hasty, when ye face the Enemie,

Nor too ambitious to get honour instantly,

But charge within your bounds, and keep close bodies,

And you shall see what sport we'l make these mad-caps;

You shall have game enough, I warrant ye,

Every mans Cock shall fight.

Dem. I must go see Sir:

Brave Sir, as soon as I have taken leave,

I'le meet you in the park;

Draw the men thither,

Wait you upon Leontius.

Leo. These foolish Mistresses do so hang about ye,

So whimper, and so hug, I know it Gentlemen,

And so intice ye, now ye are i'th' bud;

And that sweet tilting war, with eyes and kisses,

Th' alarms of soft vows, and sighs, and fiddle faddles,

Spoils all our trade: you must forget these knick knacks,

A woman at some time of year, I grant ye

She is necessarie; but make no business of her.

How now Lieutenant?

Leo. Thou hast mewed 'em finely:

Here's a strange fellow now, and a brave fellow,

If we may say so of a pocky fellow,

(Which I believe we may) this poor Lieutenant;

Whether he have the scratches, or the scabs,

Or what a Devil it be, I'le say this for him,

There fights no braver souldier under Sun, Gentlemen;

Show him an Enemie, his pain's forgot straight;

And where other men by beds and bathes have ease,

And easie rules of Physick; set him in a danger,

A danger, that's a fearfull one indeed,

Ye rock him, and he will so play about ye,

Let it be ten to one he ne'er comes off again,

Ye have his heart: and then he works it bravely,

And throughly bravely: not a pang remembre'd:

I have seen him do such things, belief would shrink at.

Lieu. I saw him leave the Court, dispatch his followers,

And met him after in a by street: I think

He has some wench, or such a toy, to lick over

Before he go: would I had such another

To draw this foolish pain down.