Lemot
Yea, though disguised.
Moren
Who are the ladies?
Lemot
The flowers of Paris, I can tell you: fair countess Florila and the lady Martia.
Enter Jaques.
Jaques
Monsieur Lemot, the gentleman and the two gentlewomen desire your company.
Lemot
I’ll come to them straight. But, Jaques, come hither, I prithee. Go to Labesha and tell him that the Countess Florila and the lady Martia be here at thy master’s house, and if it come in question hereafter, deny that thou told him any such thing.
Jaques
What, is this all? ‘Sblood, I’ll deny it and forswear it too.
Lemot
My lord, I’ll go and see the room be neat and fine, and come to you presently.
Moren
Yea, but, hark you, Lemot, I prithee take such order that they be not known of any women in the house.
Lemot
Oh, how should they? [Aside] Now to his wife go, i’faith!
Exit.
Jaques
Hark you, Monsieur Labesha, I pray let me speak a word with you.
Labesha
With all my heart. I pray look to my stake, there’s threepence under the candlestick.
Jaques
I pray, sir, do you know the Countess Florila and the Lady Martia?
Labesha
Do I know the Lady Martia? I knew her before she was borne. Why do you ask me?
Jaques
Why, they are both here at my master’s house.
Labesha
What, is Mistress Martia at an ordinary?
Jaques
Yea, that she is.
Labesha
By skies and stones, I’ll go and tell her father.
Exit.
Scene 9
Enter Lemot and the Countess.
Countess
What, you are out of breath, methinks, Monsieur Lemot?
Lemot
It is no matter, madam, it is spent in your service, that bear your age with your honesty better than an hundred of these nice gallants, and indeed it is a shame for your husband, that, contrary to his oath made to you before dinner, he should be now at the ordinary with that light hussy Martia, which I could not choose but come and tell you. For indeed it is a shame that your motherly care should be so slightly regarded.
Countess
Out on thee, strumpet, and accurst and miserable dame!
Lemot
Well, there they are. Nothing else. [Aside] Now to her husband go I.
Exit.
Countess
‘Nothing else’, quoth you. Can there be more?
Oh, wicked man, would he play false
That would so simply vow, and swear his faith,
And would not let me be displeased a minute,
But he would sigh and weep till I were pleased?
I have a knife within that’s razor-sharp,
And I will lay an iron in the fire,
Making it burning hot to mark the strumpet.
But ‘twill be cold too, ere I can come thither.
Do something, wretched woman; stays thou here?
Exit.
[Scene 8 continues]
Enter Lemot.
Lemot
My lord, the room is neat and fine. Will’t please you go in?
[Enter Verone.]
Verone
Gentlemen, your dinner is ready.
All [but Verone]
And we are ready for it.
Lemot
Jaques, shut the doors. Let nobody come in.
Exeunt omnes.
Scene 10
Enter Labervele, Foyes, Labesha, and the Countess.
Labervele
[Knocking at door] Where be these puritans, these murderers? Let me come in here.
Foyes
Where is the strumpet?
Countess
Where is this harlot? Let us come in here.
Labervele
What shall we do? The streets do wonder at us,
And we do make our shame known to the world.
Let us go and complain us to the King.
Foyes
Come, Labesha, will you go?
Labesha
No, no, I scorn to go. No king shall hear my plaint.
I will in silence live a man forlorn,
Mad, and melancholy as a cat
And never more wear hat-band on my hat.
[Exeunt.]
Enter Moren and Martia.
Moren
What dost thou mean? Thou must not hang on me.
Martia
Oh, good Lord Moren, have me home with you.
You may excuse all to my father for me.
Enter Lemot.
Lemot
Oh, my lord, be not so rude to leave her now.
Moren
Alas, man, an if my wife should see it, I were undone.
[Exeunt Moren and Martia.]
Enter the King and another.
King
Pursue them, sirs, and taking Martia from him,
Convey her presently to Valere’s house.
[Exeunt the King and another.]
Enter [Florila] the Puritan to Lemot.
Florila
What villain was it that hath uttered this?
Lemot
Why, ’twas even I. I thank you for your gentle terms. You give me villain at the first. I wonder where’s this old doter? What, doth he think we fear him?
Florila
Oh, monstrous man. What, wouldst thou have him take us?
Lemot
Would I, quoth you? Yea, by my troth would I. I know he is but gone to call the constable or to raise the streets.
Florila
What means the man, trow? Is he mad?
Lemot
No, no, I know what I do, I do it of purpose. I long to see him come and rail at you, to call you harlot, and to spurn you too. Oh, you’ll love me a great deal the better. And yet, let him come, and if he touch but one thread of you, I’ll make that thread his poison.
Florila
I know not what to say.
Lemot
Speak, do you love me?
Florila
Yea, surely do I.
Lemot
Why, then have not I reason that love you so dearly as I do, to make you hateful in his sight that I might more freely enjoy you.
Florila
Why, let us be gone, my kind Lemot, and not be wondered at in the open streets.
Lemot
I’ll go with you through fire, through death, through hell.
Come, give me your own hand, my own dear heart,
This hand that I adore and reverence,
And loath to have it touch an old man’s bosom.
Oh, let me sweetly kiss it.
He bites.
Florila
Out on thee, wretch. He hath bit me to the bone.
Oh, barbarous cannibal. Now I perceive
Thou wilt make me a mocking-stock to all the world.
Lemot
Come, come, leave your passions, they cannot move me. My father and my mother died both in a day, and I rung me a peal for them, and they were no sooner brought to the church and laid in their graves, but I fetched me two or three fine capers aloft and took my leave of them, as men do of their mistresses at the ending of a galliard. Beso las manos.
Florila
Oh, brutish nature, how accurst was I ever to endure the sound of this damned voice.
Lemot
Well, an you do not like my humour, I can be but sorry for it. I bit you for good will, an if you accept it, so; if no, go.
Florila
Villain, thou didst it in contempt of me.
Lemot
Well, an you take it so, so be it. Hark you, madam, your wisest course is even to become Puritan again. Put off this vain attire, and say, ‘I have despised all, thanks
my God. Good husband, I do love thee in the Lord’, and he (good man) will think all this you have done was but to show thou couldst govern the world, and hide thee as a rainbow doth a storm. My dainty wench, go go. What, shall the flattering words of a vain man make you forget your duty to your husband? Away, repent, amend your life. You have discredited your religion forever.
Florila
Well, wretch, for this foul shame thou puttest on me, the curse of all affection light on thee.
Exit.
Lemot
Go, Habbakuk, go. Why, this is excellent. I shall shortly become a schoolmaster, to whom men will put their wives to practise. Well, now will I go set the Queen upon the King, and tell her where he is close with his wench. And he that mends my humour, take the spurs. Sit fast, for by heaven, I’ll jerk the horse you ride on.
[Exit.]
Scene 11
Enter [Verone] my host, Catalian, Blanvel, Berger, Jaques, Jaquena, and Boy.
Verone
Well, gentlemen, I am utterly undone without your good helps. It is reported that I received certain ladies or gentlewomen into my house. Now, here’s my man, my maid, and my boy. [To them] Now, if you saw any, speak boldly before these gentlemen.
Jaques
I saw none, sir.
Jaquena
Nor I, by my maidenhead.
Boy
Nor I, as I am a man.
Catalian
Well, my host, we’ll go answer for your house at this time, but if at other times you have had wenches, and would not let us know it, we are the less beholding to you.
Exeunt all but [Verone] my host and the gentlemen [Berger and Catalian].
Berger
Peradventure the more beholding to him, but I lay my life Lemot hath devised some jest. He gave us the slip before dinner.
Catalian
Well, gentlemen, since we are so fitly met, I’ll tell you an excellent subject for a fit of mirth, an if it be well handled.
Berger
Why, what is it?
Catalian
Why man, Labesha is grown marvellous malcontent upon some amorous disposition of his mistress, and you know he loves a mess of cream and a spice-cake with his heart, and I am sure he hath not dined today, and he hath taken on him the humour of the young Lord Dowsecer, and we will set a mess of cream, a spice-cake, and a spoon, as the armour, picture, and apparel was set in the way of Dowsecer, which I doubt not but will work a rare cure upon his melancholy.
Verone
Why, this is excellent. I’ll go fetch the cream.
Catalian
And I the cake.
Berger
And I the spoon.
Exeunt, and come in again [and put props down].
Catalian
See where he comes, as like the Lord Dowsecer as may be. Now you shall hear him begin with some Latin sentence that he hath remembered ever since he read his accidence.
Enter Labesha.
Labesha
Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum. Oh, silly state of things, for things they be that cause this silly state. And what is a thing? A bauble, a toy, that stands men in small stead.
He spies the cream.
But what have we here? What vanities have we here?
Verone
[Aside to all but Labesha] He is strongly tempted, the Lord strengthen him. See what a vein he hath.
Labesha
Oh, cruel fortune, and dost thou spit thy spite at my poor life? But oh, sour cream, what thinkest thou that I love thee still? No, no, fair and sweet is my mistress. If thou hadst strawberries and sugar in thee — but it may be thou art set with stale cake to choke me. Well, taste it, and try it, [He starts to eat.] spoonful by spoonful: bitterer and bitterer still. But oh, sour cream, wert thou an onion. Since Fortune set thee for me, I will eat thee, and I will devour thee in spite of Fortune’s spite.
Choke I, or burst I, mistress, for thy sake,
To end my life eat I this cream and cake.
Catalian
[Aside to all but Labesha] So he hath done. His melancholy is well eased, I warrant you.
Verone
[Advancing] God’s my life, gentlemen, who hath been at this cream?
Labesha
Cream, had you cream? Where is your cream? I’ll spend my penny at your cream.
Catalian
Why, did not you eat this cream?
Labesha
Talk not to me of cream, for such vain meat
I do despise as food. My stomach dies
Drowned in the cream bowls of my mistress’ eyes.
[He starts to leave.]
Catalian
Nay, stay, Labesha.
Labesha
No, not I, not I.
[Exit.]
Verone
Oh, he is ashamed, i’faith. But I will tell thee how thou shalt make him mad indeed: say his mistress for love of him hath drowned herself.
Catalian
‘Sblood, that will make him hang himself.
Exeunt omnes.
Scene 12
Enter the Queen, Lemot, and all the rest of the lords [Foyes and Labervele], and the Countess; Lemot’s [right] arm in a scarf.
Lemot
[Aside] Have at them, i’faith, with a lame counterfeit humour.
[Aloud] Ache on, rude arm, I care not for thy pain,
I got it nobly in the King’s defence,
And in the guardiance of my fair Queen’s right.
Queen
Oh, tell me, sweet Lemot, how fares the King?
Or what my right was that thou didst defend?
Lemot
That you shall know when other things are told.
Labervele
Keep not the Queen too long without her longing.
Foyes
No, for I tell you it is a dangerous thing.
Countess
Little care cruel men how women long.
Lemot
What, would you have me then put poison in my breath,
And burn the ears of my attentive Queen.
Queen
Tell me whate’er it be, I’ll bear it all.
Lemot
Bear with my rudeness, then, in telling it,
For, alas, you see I can but act it with the left hand.
This is my gesture now.
Queen
This is my gesture now. ’Tis well enough.
Lemot
Yea, well enough, you say
This recompense have I for all my wounds.
Then thus:
The King, enamoured of another lady,
Compares your face to hers, and says that yours
Is fat and flat, and that your nether lip
Was passing big.
Queen
Was passing big. Oh, wicked man.
Doth he so suddenly condemn my beauty,
That, when he married me, he thought divine?
Forever blasted be that strumpet’s face,
As all my hopes are blasted, that did change them.
Lemot
Nay, madam, though he said your face was fat,
And flat, and so forth, yet he liked it best,
And said a perfect beauty should be so.
Labervele
Oh, did he so? Why, that was right even as it should be.
Foyes
You see now, madam, how much too hasty you were in your griefs.
Queen
If he did so esteem of me indeed, happy am I.
Countess
So may your highness be that hath so good a husband, but hell hath no plague to such an one as I.
Lemot
Indeed, madam, you have a bad husband. Truly, then did the King
Grow mightily in love with the other lady,
And swore no king could more enrichèd be,
Than to enjoy so fair a dame as she.
Queen
O, monstrous man, and accurst, most miserable dame!
L
emot
‘But’, says the King, ‘I do enjoy as fair,
And though I love her in all honoured sort,
Yet I’ll not wrong my wife for all the world’.
Foyes
This proves his constancy as firm as brass.
Queen
It doth, it doth. Oh, pardon me, my lord,
That I mistake thy royal meaning so.
Countess
In heaven your highness lives, but I in hell.
Lemot
But when he viewed her radiant eyes again,
Blind was he strucken with her fervent beams.
And now, good King, he gropes about in corners,
Void of the cheerful light should guide us all.
Queen
Oh, dismal news! What, is my sovereign blind?
Lemot
Blind as a beetle, madam, that, a while
Hovering aloft, at last in cow-shards fall.
Labervele
Could her eyes blind him?
Lemot
Eyes, or what it was, I know not,
But blind I am sure he is as any stone.
Queen
Come, bring me to my prince, my lord, that I may lead him. None alive but I may have the honour to direct his feet.
Lemot
How lead him, madam? Why, he can go as right as you, or any here, and is not blind of eyesight.
Queen
Of what then?
Lemot
Of reason.
Queen
Why, thou saidst he wanted his cheerful light.
Lemot
Of reason still I meant, whose light you know
Should cheerfully guide a worthy king;
For he doth love her, and hath forcèd her
Into a private room where now they are.
Queen
What mocking changes is there in thy words,
Fond man. Thou murderest me with these exclaims.
Lemot
Why, madam, ’tis your fault. You cut me off before my words be half done.
Queen
Forth, and unlade the poison of thy tongue.
Lemot
Another lord did love this curious lady,
Who hearing that the King had forcèd her
As she was walking with another earl,
Ran straightways mad for her, and with a friend
Of his, and two or three black ruffians more,
Broke desperately upon the person of the King,
Swearing to take from him, in traitorous fashion,
The instrument of procreation
With them I fought a while and got this wound,
But being unable to resist so many,
Came straight to you to fetch you to his aid.
Labervele
Why raised you not the streetes?
Lemot
Why raised you not the streetes? That I forbore,
The Complete Poetical Works of George Chapman Page 181
