Sir, said she, I am bound in gratitude and duty to obey your will, were it to sacrifice my life, or the tranquility of my mind, on the altar of your commands.
In the meantime, the Duke was so discontented and melancholy, that he excluded himself from all company, suffering neither his Duchess, nor any friend to visit him, nor come near him, only one old servant to wait upon him; all former delights, pleasures and recreations were hateful to him, even in the remembrance, as if his soul and body had taken a surfeit thereof. At last, he resolved she should know what torment he suffered for her sake; and since he could not see nor speak to her, he would send her a letter: then he called out for pen, ink, and paper, and wrote after this manner.
Madam,
The wrath of the gods is not only pacified, and pardons the greatest sins that can be committed against them, taking to mercy the contrite heart, but gives blessings for repentant tears; and I hope you will not be more severe than they: let not your justice be too rigid, lest you become cruel. I confess, the sins committed against you were great, and deserve great punishment: but if all your mercies did fly from me, yet if you did but know the torments I suffer, you could not choose but pity me; and my sorrows are of that weight, that they will press out my life, unless your favours take off the heavy burden: but howsoever, pray let your charity give me a line or two of your own writing, though they strangle me with death: then will my soul lie quiet in the grave, because I died by your hand; and when I am dead, let not the worst of my actions live in your memory, but cast them into oblivion, where I wish they may forever remain. The gods protect you.
Sealing the letter, he gave it to his man to carry with all the secrecy he could, bidding him to enquire which of her women was most in her favour, praying her to deliver it to her mistress when she was all alone, and to tell the maid he would be in the street to wait her command. The man found such access as he could wish, the letter being delivered to the Lady; which, when she had read, and found from whom it came, her passions were so mixed, that she knew not whether to joy or grieve; she joyed to live in his thoughts, yet grieved to live without him, having no hopes to make him lawfully hers, nor so much as to see or speak to him, her uncle was so averse against him; and the greatest grief was, to think she must be forced to become another’s, when she had rather be his, though forsaken, than by another to be beloved with constancy. Then musing with herself for some time, considering whether it was fit to answer his letter, or no; if my uncle should come to know, said she, I write to him without his leave (which leave I am sure he will never give) I shall utterly lose his affection, and I had rather lose life than lose his love; and if I do not write, I shall seem as if I were of a malicious nature, which will beget an evil construction of my disposition, in that mind I desire to live [in] with a good opinion. And if I believe, as charity and love persuades me, that he speaks truth, I shall endanger his life; and I would be loath to murder him with nice scruples, when I am neither forbade by honour nor modesty, religion nor laws[.] Well, I will adventure, and ask my uncle pardon when I have done; my uncle is not of a tiger’s nature, he is gentle and will forgive, and a pardon may be gotten: but life, when once it is gone, will return no more. Then taking pen, ink, and paper, [she] writ to him after this manner.
Sir,
I am obedient, as being once tied to you, until you did cut me off, and throw me away as a worthless piece, only fit to be trodden under the feet of disgrace, and certainly had perished with shame; had not my uncle owned me, I had been left destitute. And though you are pleased to cast some thoughts back upon me, yet is difficult for me to believe, you, that did once scorn me, should humbly come to sue to me: but I rather fear you do this for sport, angling with the bait of deceit to catch my innocent youth. But I am not the first of my sex, nor I fear shall not be the last, that has been, and will be deceived by men, who glory in their treacherous spoils; and if you beset me with stratagems, kill me outright, and [do] not lead me prisoner, to set out your triumph: but if you have wars with your conscience, or fancy, or both, interrupting the peace of your mind, as your letter expresses, I should willingly return to your side, and be an arbitrator; yet the fates have destined it otherwise. But what unhappy fortune soever befalls me, I wish yours may be good. Heavens keep you.
Here, said she, give the man, that brought me the letter, this. The man returning to his lord so soon, made him believe he had not delivered her that letter.
Well, said the Duke, you have not delivered my letter.
Yet, but I have, said he, and brought you an answer.
Why, said the Duke, it is impossible, you stayed so short a time.
Then, said he, I have wrought a miracle; but, said he, you did lengthen my journey in your conceits, with the foul ways of difficulties.
I hope, said the Duke, thou art so blessed as to make as prosperous a journey, as a quick despatch; leave me awhile, said he while9 I call you. But when he went to open the letter, time brings not more weakness, said he, than fear doth to me, for my hands shake as if I had the palsy; and my eyes are so dim, that spectacles will hardly enlarge my sight. But when he had read the letter, joy gave him a new life: here, said he, she plainly tells me, she would be mine; she saith, she would return to my side, if the fates had not destined against it, by which she means, her uncle is against me; well, if I can but once get access, I shall be happy forever. So after he had blessed himself in reading the letter many times over, I will, said he, strengthen myself to enable myself to go abroad, for as yet I am but weak; and calling to his man, he bid him get him something to eat.
Did your Grace, said the man, talk of eating?
Yes, answered the Duke, for I am hungry.
By my troth, said the man, I had thought your hands, mouth, appetite and stomach had made a bargain; the one, that it never would desire meat nor drink; the other that it would digest none; the third, that it would receive none; and the fourth, that it would offer none; for on my conscience you have not eat[en] the quantity of a pestle of a lark this week;10 and you are become so weak, that if a boy should wrestle with you, he would have the better.
You are deceived, said the Duke, I am so strong, and my spirits so active, that I would beat two or three such old fellows as thou art; and to prove it, I will beat thee with one hand.
No pray, said he, I will believe your Grace’s report, and leave your active Grace for a time, to fetch you some food.
When his man came in with the meat, he found the Duke a-dancing.
I believe, said he, you carry your body very light, having no heavy burdens of meat in your stomach.
I am so airy, said the Duke, as I will caper over thy head.
By my troth, said he, then I shall let fall your meat out of my hands, for fear of your heels.
Whilst the Duke was at his meat, he talked to his man; why hast thou lived an old bachelor, and never married?
O Sir, said he, wives are too chargeable.
Why, said the Duke, are you so poor?
No Sir, answered he, women are so vain, besides they do not only spend their husband’s estates, but makes his estate a bawd to procure Love servants, so as his wealth serves only to buy him a pair of horns.
Pray thee, let me persuade thee to marry, and I will direct thee to whom thou shalt go a-wooing.
Troth Sir, I would venture, if there had been any example to encourage me.
Why, what do you think of my marriage, do not I live happily?
Yes, said he, when your Duchess and you are asunder, but when you meet, it is like Jupiter and Juno, you make such a thundering noise, as it frights your mortal servants, thinking you will dissolve our world, your family, consuming our hospitality by the fire of your wrath; rolling up the clouds of smoky vapour from boiled beef, as a sheet of parchment[.] When you were a bachelor we lived in the golden age, but now it is the iron age, and Doomsday draws near.
I hope, saith the Duke, thou art a prophet, but when Doomsday is past, you shall live in Paradise.
In my
conscience, Sir, said he, fortune hath mismatched you; for surely nature did never intend to join you as man and wife; you are of such different humours.
Well, said the Duke, for all your railing against women, you shall go a-wooing, if not for yourself, yet for me.
Sir, said he, I shall refuse no office, that your Grace employs me in.
Go your ways, said the Duke, to the Lady’s maid you gave the letter to, and present her with a hundred pounds, and tell her, if she can help me to the speech of her Lady; you will bring her a hundred pounds more, and if you find her nice, and that she says she dare not, offer her five hundred pounds or more, or so much, until you have out-bribed her cautious fears.
Sir, said the man, if you send her many of these presents, I will woo for myself, as well as for your Grace, wherefore by your Grace’s leave, I will spruce up myself before I go, and trim my beard, and wash my face, and who knows but I may speed, for I perceive it is a fortunate year for old men to win young maids’ affections, for they say, the Viceroy is to be married to the sweetest young beautifullest lady in the world, and he is very old, and in my opinion, not so handsome as I am: with that the Duke turned pale.
Nay, said the man, your Grace hath no cause to be troubled, for ’tis a lady you have refused, wherefore he hath but your leavings.
With that the Duke up with his hand, and gave him a box on the ear: thou liest, said he, he must not marry her.
Nay, said the man, that is as your Grace can order the business; but your Grace is a just performer of your word, for you have tried your strength, and hath beaten me with one hand.
The Duke walked about the room, and after he had pacified himself, at last spoke to his man; well, said he, if you be prosperous, and can win the maid to direct me the way to speak to her Lady, I will cure the blow with crowns.
Sir, said he, I will turn my other cheek to box that, if you please.
Go away, said the Duke, and return as soon as you can.
Sir, said he, I will return as soon as my business is done, or else I shall lose both pains and gains; good fortune be my guide, said he, and then I am sure of the world’s favour, for they that are prosperous shall never want friends, although he were a coward, a knave, or a fool, the world shall say, nay, think him valiant, honest and wise.
Sir, said he to the Duke, pray flatter Fortune, and offer some prayers to her deity in my behalf, though it be but for your own sake; for he that hath not a feeling interest in the business, can never pray with a strong devotion for a good success, but their prayers will be so sickly and weak, as they can never travel up far, but fall back as it were in a swoon, without sense[.] In the meantime the Viceroy and the uncle had drawn up articles, and had concluded of the match without the young Lady’s consent; but the uncle told her afterwards, she must prepare herself to be the Viceroy’s bride: and, said he, if you consent not, never come near me more, for I will disclaim all the interest of an uncle, and become your enemy[.] His words were like so many daggers, that were struck to her heart: for her grief was too great for tears: but her maid, who had ventured her Lady’s anger, for gold had conveyed the Duke into such a place, as to go into her chamber, when he pleased, and seeing her stand as it were, without life or sense, but as a statue carved in stone, went to her, which object brought her out of a muse, but struck her with such amaze, as she fixed her eyes upon him, as on some wonder, and standing both silent for a time, at last she spake.
Sir, said she, this is not civilly done, to come without my leave, or my uncle’s knowledge: nor honourably done, to come like a thief in the night to surprise me.
Madam, said he, Love, that is in danger to lose what he most adores, will never consider persons, time, place, nor difficulty, but runs to strengthen and secure his side, fights and assaults all that doth oppose him, and I hear you are to be married to the Viceroy: but if you do marry him, I will strive to make you a widow the first hour, cutting your vows asunder: and your husband, instead of his bride, shall embrace death, and his grave shall become his wedding bed, or I will lie there myself shrouded in my winding sheet from the hated sight of seeing or knowing you to be another’s: but if knowledge lives in the grave, think not yourself secure when I am dead; for if ghosts as some imagines, they can rise from the earth, mine shall visit you and fright you from delights, and never leave you until you become a subject in death’s kingdom; but if you are cruel and take delight to have your bridal health drunk in blood, marry him, where perchance we may be both dead drunk with that warm red liquor.
Sir, answered she, it is an unheard of malice to me, or an impudent and vainglorious pride in you, neither to own me yourself, nor let another, but would have me wander out of my single life, that the world may take notice and say, this is your forsaken maid; and I live to be scorned and become friendless, for my uncle will never own me, which will prove as a proclamation to proclaim me a traitor to gratitude, and natural affection, by committing the treason of disobedience.
Said the Duke, you cannot want an owner whilst I live, for I had, nor have no more power to resign the interest I have in you, than Kings to resign their crown that comes by succession, for the right lies in the crown, not in the man, and though I have played the tyrant, and deserved to be uncrowned, yet none ought to take it off my head, but death, nor have I power to throw it from myself, death only must make way for a successor.
Then said she, I must die, that your Duchess may have right, and a free possession.
Nay, said he, you must claim your own just interest and place yourself.
What is that, said she, go to law for you[?]
Yes, said he.
Where if I be cast, said she, it will be a double shame.
You cannot plead, and be condemned, said he, if Justice hears your cause: and though most of the actions of my life have been irregular, yet they were not so much corrupted or misruled by nature, as for want of good education, and through the ignorance of my youth, which time since hath made me see my errors; and though your beauty is very excellent, and is able to enamour the most dullest sense, yet it is not that alone that disturbs the peace of my mind, but the conscientiousness11 of my fault, which unless you pardon and restore me to your favour, I shall never be at rest.
I wish there were no greater obstacle, said she, than my pardon to your rest: for I should absolve you soon, and sleep should not be more gentle, and soft on your eyes, than the peace to your mind, if I could give it, but my uncle’s dislike may prove as fearful dreams to disturb it: but indeed if his anger were like dreams, it would vanish away, but I doubt it is of too thick a body for a vision.
Says the Duke, we will both kneel to your uncle, and plead at the bar of either ear, I will confess my fault at one ear, whilst you ask pardon for me at the other; and though his heart were steel, your words will dissolve it into compassion, whilst my tears mix the ingredients.
My uncle, said she, hath agreed with the Viceroy: and his word hath sealed that bond, which he never will break.
Says the Duke, I will make the Viceroy to break the bargain himself, and then your uncle is set free: besides, you are mine and not your uncle’s; unless you prove my enemy to deny me, and I will plead for my right: Heaven direct you for the best, said she, it is late, goodnight.
You will give me leave, he said, to kiss your hands.
I cannot deny my hand, said she, to him that hath my heart.
The next day the Duke went to the Viceroy’s, and desired to have a private hearing, about a business that concerned him; and when he had him alone, he shut the door, and drew his sword; which when the Viceroy saw, he began to call for help.
Call not, nor make a noise, if you do, Hell take me, said the Duke, I’ll run you through.
What mean you, said the Viceroy, to give me such a dreadful visit?
I come, said the Duke, to ask you a question, to forbid you an act, and to have you grant me my demand.
Said the Viceroy, that question must be resolvable, the act just, the demands possible.
Yes, answered he.
The act forbidden is, you must not marry her.
Why, said the Viceroy?
Because, said he, she is my wife, and I have been married to her almost nine years.
Why, said he, you cannot have two wives?
No, said he, I will have but one, and that shall be she.
And what is your demand?
My demand is, that you will never marry her.
How, says the Viceroy? Put the case you should die, you will then give me leave to marry her?
No, said the Duke, I love her too well, to leave a possibility of her marrying you: I will sooner die, than set my hand to this, said the Viceroy.
If you do not, you shall the a violent death, by Heaven, answered he, and more than that, you shall set your hand never to complain against me to the King[.] Will you do it, or will you not? for I am desperate, said the Duke.
Said the Viceroy, you strike the King in striking me.
No disputing, says he, set your hand presently, or I will kill you.
Do you say, you are desperate?
Yes, answered he.
Then I must, do a desperate act to set my hand to a bond I mean to break.
Use your own discretion, to that[.]
Come, said he, I will set my hand before I read it; for whatsoever it is, it must be done; after he set his hand he read[:]
Here I do vow to Heaven, never to woo the Lady Deletia, nor to take her to wife, whereunto I set my hand. To this paper too, said the Duke.
Here I do vow to Heaven, never to take revenge, nor to complain of the Duke to my King and master, whereunto I set my hand.
Saith the Duke, I take my leave, rest you in peace, Sir.
And the Devil torment you, said the Viceroy! O Fortune, I could curse thee with thy companions, the Fates, not only in cutting off my happiness, in the enjoying of so rare a beauty, but in stopping the passage to a sweet revenge: and though I were sure, there were both gods and devils, yet I would break my vow, for the one is pacified by prayers, and praises, and the other terrified with threats; but, O the disgrace from our fellow creatures, mankind, sits closer to the life, than the skin to the flesh. For if the skin be flayed off, a new one will grow again, making the body appear younger than before; but if a man be flayed once of his reputation, he shall never regain it, and his life will be always bare and raw, and malice and envy will torment it, with the stings of ill tongues; which to avoid, I must close with the Duke in a seeming friendship, and not defy him as an open enemy, lest he should divulge my base acts done by my cowardly fear[.] But they are fools that would not venture their reputations, to save their life, rather than to the an honourable death, as they call it; which is to die, to gain a good opinion, and what shall they gain by it? A few praises, as to say, he was a valiant man; and what doth the valiant get, is he ever the better? No, he is tumbled into the grave, and his body rots, and turns to dust[.] All the clear distinguishing senses, the bright flaming appetites are quenched out; but if they were not, there is no fuel in the grave to feed their fire; for death is cold, and the grave barren; besides, there is no remembrance in the grave, all is forgotten, they cannot rejoice at their past gallant actions, or remember their glorious triumphs, but the only happiness is, that though there is no pleasure in the grave, so there is no pain; but to give up life before nature requires it, is to pay a subsidy before we are taxed, or to yield up our liberties before we are prisoners. And who are wise that shall do so[?] No, let fools run headlong to death; I will live as long as I can, and not only live, but live easily, freely, and as pleasant as I can; wherefore to avoid this man’s mischief, which lies to entrap my life, I will agree with him; and I had rather lose the pleasures of one woman, than all other pleasures with my life; but to do him a secret mischief he shall not escape, if I can prevail; but I perceive this Duke, since he can have but one wife, intends to set up a seraglio12 of young wenches, and by my troth, he begins with a fair one, and whilst he courts his mistress, I mean to woo his wife, for he hath not sworn me from that. So that my revenge shall be to make him a cuckold, so the Viceroy went to the Duchess; and after he had made his complimental addresses, they began to talk more serious[ly].
The Blazing World and Other Writings (Penguin Classics) Page 7
