The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman

by George Chapman

Florila

  I told my husband I would make these signs:

  If I resisted, first, hold up my finger,

  As if I said, ‘i’faith, sir, you are gone’,

  But it shall say, ‘i’faith, sir, we are one’.

  Labervele

  [Aside] Now she triumphs and points to heaven, I warrant you.

  Florila

  Then must I seem as if I would hear no more

  And stop your vain lips.

  Go, cruel lips, you have bewitched me, go.

  Labervele

  [Aside] Now she stops in

  His scornèd words and rates him for his pains.

  Florila

  And when I thrust you thus against the breast,

  Then are you overthrown both horse and foot.

  Labervele

  [Aside] Now is he overthrown both horse and foot.

  Florila

  [Aloud] Away, vain man, have I not answered you?

  Lemot

  Madam, I yield and swear I never saw

  So constant nor so virtuous a lady.

  Labervele

  [To Lemot] Now, speak, I pray, and speak but truly,

  Have you not got a wrong sow by the ear?

  Lemot

  My lord, my labour is not altogether lost,

  For now I find that which I never thought.

  Labervele

  Ah, sirrah, is the edge of your steel wit

  Rebated then against her adamant?

  Lemot

  It is, my lord. Yet one word more, fair lady.

  Labervele

  [Aside] Fain would he have it do, and it will not be. [To Florila] Hark you, wife, what sign will you make me now if you relent not?

  Florila

  Lend him my handkerchief to wipe his lips of their last disgrace.

  Labervele

  Excellent good. Go forward, sir, I pray.

  Florila

  [To Lemot] Another sign, i’faith, love, is required.

  Lemot

  Let him have signs enough, my heavenly love.

  Then know there is a private meeting

  This day at Verone’s ordinary,

  Where if you will do me the grace to come,

  And bring the beauteous Martia with you,

  I will provide a fair and private room,

  Where you shall be unseen of any man,

  Only of me, and of the King himself,

  Whom I will cause to honour your repair

  With his high presence,

  And there with music and quick revellings

  You may revive your spirits so long time dulled.

  Florila

  I’ll send for Martia then, and meet you there,

  And tell my husband I will lock myself

  In my close walk till supper-time.

  [Aloud] We pray, sir, wipe your lips of the disgrace

  They took in their last labour.

  Lemot

  [Going] Marry, the Devil was never so despited.

  Labervele

  Nay, stay, sir.

  Lemot

  No, no, my Lord, you have the constantest wife that ever — well, I’ll say no more.

  Exit.

  Labervele

  Never was minion so disminionèd.

  Come, constancy, come, my girl, I’ll leave thee

  Loose to twenty of them, i’faith.

  Then he sighs.

  Florila

  Come, my good head, come.

  Exeunt.

  Scene 7

  Enter the King and all the lords [Lemot and Catalian], with the trumpets.

  King

  Why sound these trumpets, in the Devil’s name?

  Catalian

  To show the King comes.

  King

  To show the King comes?

  Go hang the trumpeters. They mock me boldly,

  And every other thing that makes me known,

  Not telling what I am, but what I seem:

  A king of clouts, a scarecrow, full of cobwebs,

  Spiders and earwigs, that sets jackdaw’s long tongue

  In my bosom and upon my head.

  And such are all the affections of love

  Swarming in me, without command or reason.

  Lemot

  How now, my liege! What, quagmired in philosophy,

  Bound with love’s whipcord, and quite robbed of reason?

  And I’ll give you a receipt for this presently.

  King

  Peace, Lemot. They say the young Lord Dowsecer

  Is rarely learned, and nothing lunatic

  As men suppose,

  But hateth company and worldly trash.

  The judgement and the just contempt of them

  Have in reason arguments that break affection,

  As the most sacred poets write, and still the roughest wind.

  And his rare humour come we now to hear.

  Lemot

  Yea, but hark you, my liege, I’ll tell you a better humour than that. Here presently will be your fair love, Martia, to see his humour, and from thence, fair countess Florila and she will go unto Verone’s ordinary, where none but you and I and Count Moren will be most merry.

  King

  Why, Count Moren, I hope, dares not adventure into any woman’s company but his wife’s.

  Lemot

  Yes, as I will work, my liege, and then let me alone to keep him there till his wife comes.

  King

  That will be royal sport.

  Enter Labervele, Labesha, and all the rest [the Countess, Moren, Foyes, Martia and Florila].

  See where all comes. Welcome, fair lords and ladies.

  Labervele

  My liege, you are welcome to my poor house.

  Lemot

  [Presenting Labesha] I pray, my liege, know this gentleman especially. He is a gentleman born, I can tell you.

  King

  With all my heart. What might I call your name?

  Labesha

  Monsieur Labesha, Seigneur de Foulasa.

  King

  De Foulasa? An ill-sounding baronry, of my word. But to the purpose. Lord Labervele, we are come to see the humour of your rare son, which by some means I pray let us partake.

  Labervele

  Your highness shall too unworthily partake the sight which I with grief and tears daily behold, seeing in him the end of my poor house.

  King

  You know not that, my lord. Your wife is young, and he perhaps hereafter may be moved to more society.

  Labervele

  Would to God he would, that we might do to your crown of France more worthy and more acceptable service.

  King

  Thanks, good my lord. See where he appears.

  Enter Lavel with a picture, and a pair of large hose, and a codpiece, and a sword.

  Say, Lavel, where is your friend, the young Lord Dowsecer?

  Lavel

  I look, my liege, he will be here anon, but then I must entreat your majesty and all the rest to stand unseen, for he as yet will brook no company.

  King

  We will stand close, Lavel, but wherefore bring you this apparel, that picture, and that sword?

  Lavel

  To put him, by the sight of them, in mind of their brave states that use them, or that at the least of the true use they should be put unto.

  King

  Indeed, the sense doth still stir up the soul, and though these objects do not work, yet it is very probable in time she may. At least, we shall discern his humour of them.

  Enter Dowsecer.

  Lemot

  See where he comes contemplating. Stand close.

  Dowsecer

  Quid ei potest videri magnum in rebus humanis cui aeternitas omnis totiusque nota sit mundi magnitudo.

  ‘What can seem strange to him on earthly things

  To whom the whole course of eternity,

  And the round compass of the world is known?’

  A speech divine
, but yet I marvel much

  How it should spring from thee, Mark Cicero,

  That sold for glory the sweet peace of life,

  And made a torment of rich nature’s work,

  Wearing thyself by watchful candle-light,

  When all the smiths and weavers were at rest,

  And yet was gallant, ere the day bird sung,

  To have a troop of clients at thy gates,

  Armed with religious supplications,

  Such as would make stern Minos laugh to read.

  Look on our lawyers’ bills: not one contains

  Virtue or honest drifts, but snares, snares, snares.

  For acorns now no more are in request;

  But when the oak’s poor fruit did nourish men,

  Men were like oaks of body, tough, and strong.

  Men were like giants then, but pygmies now,

  Yet full of villainies as their skin can hold.

  Lemot

  How like you this humour, my liege?

  King

  This is no humour; this is but perfect judgement.

  Countess

  Is this a frenzy?

  Martia

  Is this a frenzy? Oh were all men such,

  Men were no men but gods, this earth a heaven.

  Dowsecer

  [Noticing the sword] See, see, the shameless world,

  That dares present her mortal enemy

  With these gross ensigns of her lenity,

  Iron and steel, uncharitable stuff,

  Good spital-founders, enemies to whole skins,

  As if there were not ways enough to die

  By natural and casual accidents,

  Diseases, surfeits, brave carouses,

  Old aqua-vitae, and too base wines,

  And thousands more. Hence with this art of murder!

  [Noticing the hose and codpiece]

  But here is goodly gear, the soul of man,

  For ’tis his better part. Take away this,

  And take away their merits and their spirits.

  Scarce dare they come in any public view

  Without this countenance-giver,

  And some dares not come, because they have it, too,

  For they may sing, in written books they find it.

  What is it then, the fashion or the cost?

  The cost doth match, but yet the fashion more,

  For let it be but mean, so in the fashion,

  And ’tis most gentleman-like. Is it so?

  Make a hand in the margin, and burn the book,

  A large hose and a codpiece makes a man.

  A codpiece, nay indeed, but hose must down.

  Well for your gentle forgers of men,

  And for you come to wrest me into fashion,

  I’ll wear you thus, and sit upon the matter.

  Labervele

  And so he doth despise our purposes.

  Catalian

  Bear with him yet, my lord, he is not resolved.

  Lavel

  I would not have my friend mock worthy men,

  For the vain pride of some that are not so.

  Dowsecer

  I do not here deride difference of states,

  No, not in show, but wish that such as want show

  Might not be scorned with ignorant Turkish pride,

  Being pompous in apparel and in mind

  Nor would I have with imitated shapes

  Men make their native land the land of apes,

  Living like strangers when they be at home,

  And so perhaps bear strange hearts to their home;

  Nor look a-snuff like a piannet’s tail,

  For nothing but their curls and formal locks,

  When, like to cream bowls, all their virtues swim

  In their set faces, all their in-parts then

  Fit to serve peasants or make curds for daws.

  [Noticing the picture] But what a stock am I thus to neglect

  This figure of man’s comfort, this rare piece?

  Labervele

  Heavens grant that make him more humane, and sociable.

  King

  Nay, he’s more humane than all we are.

  Labervele

  I fear he will be too sharp to that sweet sex.

  Dowsecer

  She is very fair. I think that she be painted.

  An if she be, sir, she might ask of me,

  ‘How many is there of our sex that are not?’

  ’Tis a sharp question. Marry and I think

  They have small skill. If they were all of painting,

  ‘Twere safer dealing with them. And indeed.

  Were their minds strong enough to guide their bodies,

  Their beauteous deeds should match with their heavenly looks,

  ‘Twere necessary they should wear them.

  An would they vouchsafe it, even I

  Would joy in their society.

  Martia

  And who would not die with such a man?

  Dowsecer

  But to admire them as our gallants do,

  ‘Oh, what an eye she hath! Oh, dainty hand!

  Rare foot and leg!’ and leave the mind respectless.

  This is a plague that, in both men and women,

  Make such pollution of our earthly being.

  Well, I will practise yet to court this piece.

  Labervele

  Oh, happy man, now have I hope in her.

  King

  Methinks I could endure him days and nights.

  Dowsecer

  Well, sir, now thus must I do, sir, ere it come towomen. ‘Now, sir’ — a plague upon it, ’tis so ridiculous I can no further. What poor ass was it that set this in my way? Now if my father should be the man — [Sees Labervele] God’s precious coals, ’tis he!

  Labervele

  Good son, go forward in this gentle humour.

  Observe this picture. It presents a maid

  Of noble birth and excellent of parts,

  Whom for our house and honour sake, I wish

  Thou wouldst confess to marry.

  Dowsecer

  To marry father? Why, we shall have children.

  Labervele

  Why, that’s the end of marriage, and the joy of men.

  Dowsecer

  Oh, how you are deceived. You have but me,

  And what a trouble am I to your joy!

  But, father, if you long to have some fruit of me,

  See, father, I will creep into this stubborn earth

  And mix my flesh with it, and they shall breed grass

  To fat oxen, asses and such-like,

  And when they in the grass the spring converts

  Into beasts’ nourishment,

  Then comes the fruit of this my body forth.

  Then may you well say,

  Seeing my race is so profitably increased,

  That good fat ox and that same large-eared ass

  Are my son’s sons, that calf with a white face

  Is his fair daughter, with which, when your fields

  Are richly filled, then will my race content you.

  But for the joys of children, tush, ’tis gone.

  Children will not deserve, nor parents take it.

  Wealth is the only father and the child,

  And but in wealth no man hath any joy.

  Labervele

  Some course, dear son, take for thy honour sake.

  Dowsecer

  Then, father, here’s a most excellent corse.

  Labervele

  This is some comfort yet.

  Dowsecer

  If you will straight be gone and leave me here,

  I’ll stand as quietly as any lamb,

  And trouble none of you.

  [Sees Martia]

  Labervele

  And trouble none of you. An hapless man.

  Lemot

  How like you this humour yet, my liege?

  King

  As of a holy fury, not a frenzy.


  Moren

  See, see, my liege, he hath seen us sure.

  King

  Nay, look how he views Martia and makes him fine.

  Lemot

  Yea, my liege, and she, as I hope well observed, hath uttered many kind conceits of hers.

  King

  Well, I’ll be gone, and when she comes to Verone’s ordinary, I’ll have her taken to my custody.

  Lemot

  I’ll stay, my liege, and see the event of this.

  King

  Do so, Lemot.

  Exit the King.

  Dowsecer

  What have I seen? How am I burnt to dust

  With a new sun, and made a novel phoenix!

  Is she a woman that objects this sight,

  Able to work the chaos of the world

  Into gestion? O divine aspect,

  The excellent disposer of the mind

  Shines in thy beauty, and thou hast not changed

  My soul to sense, but sense unto my soul,

  And I desire thy pure society,

  But even as angels do to angels fly.

  Exit.

  Martia

  Fly soul and follow him.

  Labervele

  I marvel much at my son’s sudden strange behaviour.

  Lemot

  Bear with him yet, my lord, ’tis but his humour. Come. What, shall we go to Verone’s ordinary?

  Labesha

  Yea, for God’s sake, for I am passing hungry.

  Moren

  Yea, come, Monsieur Lemot, will you walk?

  Countess

  What, will you go?

  Moren

  Yea, sweet bird, I have promised so.

  Countess

  Go to, you shall not go and leave me alone.

  Moren

  For one meal, gentle bird. Verone invites us to buy some jewels he hath brought of late from Italy. I’ll buy the best and bring it thee, so thou wilt let me go.

  Countess

  Well said, flattering Fabian. But tell me, then, what ladies will be there?

  Moren

  Ladies? Why, none.

  Lemot

  No ladies use to come to ordinaries, madam.

  Countess

  Go to, bird, tell me now the very truth.

  Moren

  None of mine honour, bird. You never heard that ladies came to ordinaries.

  Countess

  Oh, that’s because I should not go with you.

  Moren

  Why, ’tis not fit you should.

  Countess

  Well, hark you, bird, of my word you shall not go, unless you will swear to me, you will neither court nor kiss a dame in any sort, till you come home again.

  Moren

  Why, I swear I will not.

  Countess

  Go to, by this kiss.

  Moren

  Yea, by this kiss.

  Foyes

  Martia, learn by this when you are a wife.

  Labesha

  I like the kissing well.

  Florila

  My lord, I’ll leave you. Your son Dowsecer hath made me melancholy with his humour, and I’ll go lock myself in my close walk till supper-time.