Chapter XVII: Act I: Scene I

_Palermo. A State-room in the Palace._

_Enter_ ASTUTIO _and_ ADORNI.

_Ador._ Good day to your lordship.

_Ast._ Thanks, Adorni.

_Ador._ May I presume to ask if the ambassador
Employ'd by Ferdinand, the duke of Urbin,
Hath audience this morning?

_Enter_ FULGENTIO.

_Ast._ 'Tis uncertain;
For, though a counsellor of state, I am not
Of the cabinet council: but there's one, if he please,
That may resolve you.

_Ador._ I will move him.--Sir!

_Ful._ If you've a suit, show water[133], I am blind else.

_Ador._ A suit; yet of a nature not to prove
The quarry[134] that you hawk for: if your words
Are not like Indian wares, and every scruple
To be weigh'd and rated, one poor syllable,
Vouchsafed in answer of a fair demand,
Cannot deserve a fee.

_Ful._ It seems you are ignorant,
I neither speak nor hold my peace for nothing;
And yet, for once, I care not if I answer
One single question, gratis.

_Ador._ I much thank you.
Hath the ambassador audience, sir, to-day?

_Ful._ Yes.

_Ador._ At what hour?

_Ful._ I promised not so much.
A syllable you begg'd, my charity gave it;
Move me no further. [_Exit._

_Ast._ This you wonder at:
With me, 'tis usual.

_Ador._ Pray you, sir, what is he?

_Ast._ No gentleman, yet a lord. He hath some drops
Of the king's blood running in his veins, derived
Some ten degrees off. His revenue lies
In a narrow compass, the king's ear; and yields him
Every hour a fruitful harvest. Men may talk
Of three crops in a year in the Fortunate Islands,
Or profit made by wool; but, while there are suitors,
His sheepshearing, nay, shaving to the quick,
Is in every quarter of the moon, and constant.
In the time of trussing a point,[135] he can undo,
Or make a man: his play or recreation,
Is to raise this up, or pull down that; and, though
He never yet took orders, makes more bishops
In Sicily, than the pope himself.

_Enter_ BERTOLDO, GASPARO, ANTONIO, _and a Servant_.

_Ador._ Most strange!

_Ast._ The presence fills. He in the Malta habit[136]
Is the king's natural brother.

_Ador._ I understand you.

_Bert._ With this jewel
Presented to Camiola, prepare,
This night, a visit for me. [_Exit Servant._] I shall have
Your company, gallants, I perceive, if that
The king will hear of war.

_Ant._ You are, sir,
A knight of Malta, and, as I have heard,
Have served against the Turk.

_Bert._ 'Tis true.

_Ant._ Pray you, show us
The difference between the city valour,
And service in the field.

_Bert._ 'Tis somewhat more
Than roaring in a tavern or a brothel,
Or to steal a constable[137] from a sleeping watch,
Then burn their halberds; or, safe guarded by
Your tenant's sons, to carry away a May-pole
From a neighbour village. You will not find there
Your masters of dependencies[138] to take up
A drunken brawl, or, to get you the names
Of valiant chevaliers, fellows that will be,
For a cloak with thrice-dyed velvet, and a cast suit,
Kick'd down the stairs. A knave with a provant sword[139],
If you bear not yourself both in and upright,
Will slash your scarlets and your plush a new way;
Or, with the hilts, thunder about your ears
Such music as will make your worships dance
To the doleful tune of _Lachrymæ_[140].

_Gasp._ I must tell you
In private, as you are my princely friend,
I do not like such fiddlers.

_Bert._ No! they are useful
For your imitation; I remember you,
When you came first to the court, and talk'd of nothing
But your rents and your entradas[141], ever chiming
The golden bells in your pockets; you believed
The taking of the wall as a tribute due to
Your gaudy clothes; and could not walk at midnight
Without a causeless quarrel, as if men
Of coarser outsides were in duty bound
To suffer your affronts: but, when you had been
Cudgell'd well twice or thrice, and from the doctrine
Made profitable uses, you concluded,
The sovereign means to teach irregular heirs
Civility, with conformity of manners,
Were two or three sound beatings.

_Ant._ I confess
They did much good upon me.

_Gasp._ And on me:
The principles that they read were sound.

_Bert._ You'll find
The like instructions in the camp.

_Ast._ The king!

_A flourish. Enter_ ROBERTO, FULGENTIO, _Ambassador, and Attendants_.

_Rob._ [_ascends the throne._] We sit prepared to hear.

_Amb._ Your majesty
Hath been long since familiar, I doubt not,
With the desperate fortunes of my lord; and pity
Of the much that your confederate hath suffer'd,
You being his last refuge, may persuade you
Not alone to compassionate, but to lend
Your royal aids to stay him in his fall
To certain ruin. He, too late, is conscious
That his ambition to encroach upon
His neighbour's territories, with the danger of
His liberty, nay, his life, hath brought in question
His own inheritance: but youth, and heat
Of blood, in your interpretation, may
Both plead and mediate for him. I must grant it
An error in him, being denied the favours
Of the fair princess of Sienna, (though
He sought her in a noble way,) to endeavour
To force affection by surprisal of
Her principal seat, Sienna.

_Rob._ Which now proves
The seat of his captivity, not triumph:
Heaven is still just.

_Amb._ And yet that justice is
To be with mercy temper'd, which heaven's deputies
Stand bound to minister. The injured duchess,
By reason taught, as nature, could not, with
The reparation of her wrongs, but aim at
A brave revenge; and my lord feels, too late,
That innocence will find friends. The great Gonzaga,
The honour of his order, (I must praise
Virtue, though in an enemy,) he whose fights
And conquests hold one number, rallying up
Her scatter'd troops, before we could get time
To victual or to man the conquer'd city,
Sat down before it; and presuming that
'Tis not to be relieved, admits no parley,
Our flags of truce hung out in vain: nor will he
Lend an ear to composition, but exacts,
With the rendering up the town, the goods and lives
Of all within the walls, and of all sexes,
To be at his discretion.

_Rob._ Since injustice
In your duke meets this correction, can you press us,
With any seeming argument of reason,
In foolish pity to decline[142] his dangers,
To draw them on ourself? Shall we not be
Warn'd by his harms? The league proclaim'd between us
Bound neither of us further than to aid
Each other, if by foreign force invaded;
And so far in my honour I was tied.
But since, without our counsel, or allowance,
He hath ta'en arms; with his good leave, he must
Excuse us if we steer not on a rock
We see, and may avoid. Let other monarchs
Contend to be made glorious by proud war,
And, with the blood of their poor subjects, purchase
Increase of empire, and augment their cares
In keeping that which was by wrongs extorted,
Gilding unjust invasions with the trim
Of glorious conquests; we, that would be known
The father of our people, in our study
And vigilance for their safety, must not change
Their ploughshares into swords, and force them from
The secure shade of their own vines, to be
Scorch'd with the flames of war; or, for our sport,
Expose their lives to ruin.

_Amb._ Will you, then,
In his extremity, forsake your friend?

_Rob._ No; but preserve ourself.

_Bert._ Cannot the beams
Of honour thaw your icy fears?

_Rob._ Who's that?

_Bert._ A kind of brother, sir, howe'er your subject;
Your father's son, and one who blushes that
You are not heir to his brave spirit and vigour,
As to his kingdom.

_Rob._ How's this!

_Bert._ Sir, to be
His living chronicle, and to speak his praise,
Cannot deserve your anger.

_Rob._ Where's your warrant
For this presumption?

_Bert._ Here, sir, in my heart:
Let sycophants, that feed upon your favours,
Style coldness in you caution, and prefer
Your ease before your honour; and conclude,
To eat and sleep supinely is the end
Of human blessings: I must tell you, sir,
Virtue, if not in action, is a vice;
And when we move not forward, we go backward[143]:
Nor is this peace, the nurse of drones and cowards,
Our health, but a disease.

_Gasp._ Well urged, my lord.

_Ant._ Perfect what is so well begun.

_Amb._ And bind
My lord your servant.

_Rob._ Hair-brain'd fool! what reason
Canst thou infer, to make this good?

_Bert._ A thousand,
Not to be contradicted. But consider
Where your command lies: 'tis not, sir, in France,
Spain, Germany, Portugal, but in Sicily;
An island, sir. Here are no mines of gold
Or silver to enrich you; no worm spins
Silk in her womb, to make distinction
Between you and a peasant, in your habits;
No fish lives near our shores, whose blood can dye
Scarlet or purple; all that we possess,
With beasts we have in common: nature did
Design us to be warriors, and to break through
Our ring, the sea, by which we are environ'd;
And we by force must fetch in what is wanting,
Or precious to us. Add to this, we are
A populous nation, and increase so fast,
That, if we by our providence are not sent
Abroad in colonies, or fall by the sword,
Not Sicily, though now it were more fruitful
Than when 't was styled the granary of great Rome,
Can yield our numerous fry bread: we must starve,
Or eat up one another.

_Ador._ The king hears
With much attention.

_Ast._ And seems moved with what
Bertoldo hath deliver'd.

_Bert._ May you live long, sir,
The king of peace, so you deny not us
The glory of the war; let not our nerves
Shrink up with sloth, nor, for want of employment,
Make younger brothers thieves: it is their swords, sir,
Must sow and reap their harvest. If examples
May move you more than arguments, look on England,
The empress of the European isles,
And unto whom alone ours yields precedence:
When did she flourish so, as when she was
The mistress of the ocean, her navies
Putting a girdle round about the world?
When the Iberian quaked, her worthies named;
And the fair flower-de-luce grew pale, set by
The red rose and the white? Let not our armour
Hung up, or our unrigg'd armada, make us
Ridiculous to the late poor snakes our neighbours,
Warm'd in our bosoms, and to whom again
We may be terrible. Rouse us, sir, from the sleep
Of idleness, and redeem our mortgaged honours.
Your birth, and justly, claims my father's kingdom;
But his heroic mind descends to me:
I will confirm so much.

_Ador._ In his looks he seems
To break ope Janus' temple.

_Ast._ How these younglings
Take fire from him!

_Ador._ It works an alteration
Upon the king.

_Ant._ I can forbear no longer:
War, war, my sovereign!

_Ful._ The king appears
Resolved, and does prepare to speak.

_Rob._ Think not
Our counsel 's built upon so weak a base,
As to be overturn'd, or shaken, with
Tempestuous winds of words. As I, my lord,
Before resolved you, I will not engage
My person in this quarrel; neither press
My subjects to maintain it: yet, to show
My rule is gentle, and that I have feeling
O' your master's sufferings, since these gallants, weary
Of the happiness of peace, desire to taste
The bitter sweets of war, we do consent
That, as adventurers and volunteers,
No way compell'd by us, they may make trial
Of their boasted valours.

_Bert._ We desire no more.

_Rob._ 'Tis well; and, but my grant in this, expect not
Assistance from me. Govern, as you please,
The province you make choice of; for, I vow
By all things sacred, if that thou miscarry
In this rash undertaking, I will hear it
No otherwise than as a sad disaster,
Fallen on a stranger; nor will I esteem
That man my subject, who, in thy extremes,
In purse or person aids thee. Take your fortune:
You know me; I have said it. So, my lord,
You have my absolute answer.

_Amb._ My prince pays,
In me, his duty.

_Rob._ Follow me, Fulgentio,
And you, Astutio.
[_Flourish. Exeunt_ ROBERTO, FULGENTIO, ASTUTIO, _and Attendants_.

_Gasp._ What a frown he threw,
At his departure, on you!

_Bert._ Let him keep
His smiles for his state flatterer, I care not.

_Ant._ Shall we aboard to night?

_Amb._ Your speed, my lord,
Doubles the benefit.

_Bert._ I have a business
Requires despatch; some two hours hence I'll meet you. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[133] _Show water_,] i. e. _to clear his sight_. A proverbial
periphrasis for a _bribe_, which, in Massinger's days, (though
happily not since,) was found to be the only collyrium for the
eyes of a courtier.--GIFFORD.

[134] _Quarry_,] i. e. _the game sought_.

[135] _Trussing a point_,] i. e. _tying the strings that support the
hose or breeches_. These strings were tagged, and are therefore
called _points_.

[136] _The Malta habit._] The dress of the knights of Malta was black,
having a cross of white waxed cloth on the left side of their
cloak. None were admitted into the order but those who were noble
both on the father and mother's side for four generations, unless
they were, like Bertoldo, the natural sons of kings and princes.

[137] _Or to steal a constable from a sleeping watch._] The
_constable_ was the captain of the band; this therefore was to
deprive these trusty guardians of the night of their
leader.--GIFFORD.

[138] _Masters of dependencies._] They were a set of needy bravoes,
who undertook to ascertain the authentic grounds of a quarrel, and
in some cases to settle it, for the timorous or unskilful. In the
punctilious days of our author, all matters relative to duelling
were arranged, in set treatises, with a gravity that, in a
business less serious, would be infinitely ridiculous. Troops of
disbanded soldiers, or rather of such as pretended to be so, took
up the "noble science of arms," and, with the use of the small
sword, (then a novelty,) taught a jargon respecting the various
modes of "honourable quarrelling," which, though seemingly
calculated to baffle alike the patience and the understanding, was
a fashionable object of study. The dramatic poets, faithful to the
moral end of their high art, combated this contagious folly with
the united powers of wit and humour; and, after a long and
well-conducted struggle, succeeded in rendering it as contemptible
as it was odious, and finally suppressed it altogether.--GIFFORD.

[139] _A provant sword._] A plain, unornamented sword, such as the
army is supplied with. Properly speaking, _provant_ means
provisions; but our old writers extend it to all the articles that
make up the magazine of an army.--GIFFORD.

[140] _Lachrymæ._] The first word of the title of a musical work
composed by John Dowland, in the time of James the First. The full
title was, "Lachrymæ; or, Seven Teares figured in seaven
passionate Pavans (_i. e._ affecting, serious dances); with divers
other Pavans, Galiards, and Almands, set forth to the Lute, Viols,
or Violins, in five Parts." This work was very popular, and is
frequently alluded to by the writers of our author's age.

[141] _Entradas_,] i. e. _rents, revenues_.

[142] _To decline_,] i. e. _to divert from their course_. This sense
of the word is frequent in our old poets.

[143] _Virtue, if not in action, is a vice; And when we move not
forward, we go backward._] This is a beautiful improvement on
Horace:

_Paulum sepultæ distat inertiæ
Celata virtus._

The last line of the text alludes to the Latin adage _Non progredi
est regredi_.--GIFFORD.

SCENE II.

_The same. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.

_Enter Signior_ SYLLI, _walking fantastically, followed by_ CAMIOLA _and_ CLARINDA.

_Cam._ Nay, signior, this is too much ceremony,
In my own house.

_Syl._ What's gracious abroad,
Must be in private practised.

_Clar._ For your mirth's sake
Let him alone; he has been all this morning
In practice with a peruked gentleman-usher,
To teach him his true amble, and his postures,
[SYLLI _walking by, and practising_.
When he walks before a lady.

_Syl._ You may, madam,
Perhaps, believe that I in this use art,
To make you dote upon me, by exposing
My more than most rare features to your view:
But I, as I have ever done, deal simply.
Look not with too much contemplation on me;
If you do, you are lost.

_Cam._ Is 't possible?
What philters or love-powders do you use,
To force affection? I see nothing in
Your person but I dare look on, yet keep
My own poor heart still.

_Syl._ You are warn'd--be arm'd;
And do not lose the hope of such a husband,
In being too soon enamour'd.

_Cam._ Never fear it;
Though your best taking part, your wealth, were trebled,
I would not woo you. But since in your pity
You please to give me caution, tell me what
Temptations I must fly from.

_Syl._ The first is,
That you never hear me sing, for I'm a Syren:
If you observe, when I warble, the dogs howl,
As ravish'd with my ditties; and you will
Run mad to hear me.

_Cam._ I will stop my ears,
And keep my little wits.

_Syl._ Next, when I dance,
And come aloft thus, [_capers_] cast not a sheep's eye
Upon the quivering of my calf.

_Cam._ Proceed, sir.

_Syl._ Nor should your little ladyship be taken with
My pretty spider-fingers, nor my eyes,
That twinkle on both sides.

_Cam._ Was there ever such
A piece of motley[144] heard of! [_A knocking within._]
Who's that? [_Exit_ CLARINDA.] You may spare
The catalogue of my dangers.

_Syl._ No, good madam;
I have not told you half.

_Cam._ Enough, good signior.--

_Re-enter_ CLARINDA.

Who is 't?

_Clar._ The brother of the king.

_Syl._ Nay, start not.
The brother of the king! is he no more?
Were it the king himself, I'd give him leave
To speak his mind to you, for I am not jealous;
And, to assure your ladyship of so much,
I'll usher him in, and, that done--hide myself,
[_Aside, and exit._

_Cam._ Camiola, if ever, now be constant:
This is, indeed, a suitor, whose sweet presence,
Courtship, and loving language, would have stagger'd
The chaste Penelope; and, to increase
The wonder, did not modesty forbid it,
I should ask that from him he sues to me for:
And yet my reason, like a tyrant, tells me
I must nor give nor take it.

_Re-enter_ SYLLI _with_ BERTOLDO.

_Syl._ I must tell you,
You lose your labour. Yet you shall have my countenance
To parley with her, and I'll take special care
That none shall interrupt you.

_Bert._ You are courteous.

_Syl._ Come, wench, wilt thou hear wisdom?

_Clar._ Yes, from you, sir. [_They walk aside._

_Bert._ If forcing this sweet favour from your hand,
[_Kisses her hand._
Fair madam, argue me of too much boldness,
When you are pleased to understand I take
A parting kiss, if not excuse, at least
'Twill qualify the offence.

_Cam._ A parting kiss, sir!
What nation, envious of the happiness
Which Sicily enjoys in your sweet presence,
Can buy you from her? or what climate yield
Pleasures transcending those which you enjoy here,
Being both beloved and honour'd; the north-star
And guider of all hearts; and, to sum up
Your full account of happiness in a word,
The brother of the king?

_Bert._ Do you, alone,
And with an unexampled cruelty,
Enforce my absence, and deprive me of
Those blessings which you, with a polish'd phrase,
Seem to insinuate that I do possess,
And yet tax me as being guilty of
My wilful exile? What are titles to me,
Or popular suffrage, or my nearness to
The king in blood, or fruitful Sicily,
Though it confess'd no sovereign but myself,
When you, that are the essence of my being,
The anchor of my hopes, the real substance
Of my felicity, in your disdain,
Turn all to fading and deceiving shadows?

_Cam._ You tax me without cause.

_Bert._ You must confess it.
But answer love with love, and seal the contract
In the uniting of our souls, how gladly
(Though now I were in action, and assured,
Following my fortune, that plumed Victory
Would make her glorious stand upon my tent)
Would I put off my armour, in my heat
Of conquest, and, like Antony, pursue
My Cleopatra! Will you yet look on me
With an eye of favour?

_Cam._ Truth bear witness for me,
That, in the judgment of my soul, you are
A man so absolute, and circular,
In all those wish'd-for rarities that may take
A virgin captive, that, though at this instant
All scepter'd monarchs of our western world
Were rivals with you, and Camiola worthy
Of such a competition, you alone
Should wear the garland.

_Bert._ If so, what diverts
Your favour from me?

_Cam._ No mulct in yourself,
Or in your person, mind, or fortune.

_Bert._ What then?

_Cam._ The consciousness of mine own wants: alas! sir,
We are not parallels; but, like lines divided,
Can ne'er meet in one centre[145]. Your birth, sir,
Without addition, were an ample dowry
For one of fairer fortunes; and this shape,
Were you ignoble, far above all value:
To this so clear a mind, so furnish'd with
Harmonious faculties moulded from heaven,
That though you were Thersites in your features,
Of no descent, and Irus in your fortunes,
Ulysses-like, you'd force all eyes and ears
To love, but seen; and, when heard, wonder at
Your matchless story: but all these bound up
Together in one volume!--give me leave
With admiration to look upon them;
But not presume, in my own flattering hopes,
I may or can enjoy them.

In the Proëme to Herbert's Travels, which were printed not
long after The Maid of Honour, a similar expression is found:
"Great Britaine--containes the summe and abridge of all sorts
of excellencies, _met here like parallels in their proper centre_."

In the life of Dr. H. More (1710) there is a letter to a correspondent
who had sent him a pious treatise, in which the
same expression occurs, and is thus noticed by the doctor:
"There is but one passage that I remember, which will afford
them (the profane and atheistical rout of the age) a disingenuous
satisfaction; which is in p. 489, where you say that _straight
lines drawn from the centre run parallel together_. To a candid
reader your intended sense can be no other than that they run
[Greek: par allêlas], that is, by one another; which they may do,
though they do not run all along equidistantly one by another,
which is the mathematical sense of the word parallel."--_Gent.
Mag._ May, 1782. The good doctor is, I think, the best critic
on the subject that has yet appeared, and sufficiently explains
Massinger.--GIFFORD.

_Bert._ How you ruin
What you would seem to build up! I know no
Disparity between us: you're an heir,
Sprung from a noble family; fair, rich, young,
And every way my equal.

_Cam._ Sir, excuse me;
One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses
The eagle and the wren[146]:--tissue and frieze
In the same garment, monstrous! But suppose
That what 's in you excessive were diminish'd,
And my desert supplied; the stronger bar,
Religion, stops our entrance: you are, sir,
A knight of Malta, by your order bound
To a single life; you cannot marry me;
And, I assure myself, you are too noble
To seek me, though my frailty should consent,
In a base path.

_Bert._ A dispensation, lady,
Will easily absolve me.

_Cam._ O take heed, sir!
When what is vow'd to heaven is dispensed with,
To serve our ends on earth, a curse must follow,
And not a blessing.

_Bert._ Is there no hope left me?

_Cam._ Nor to myself, but is a neighbour to
Impossibility. True love should walk
On equal feet; in us it does not, sir:
But rest assured, excepting this, I shall be
Devoted to your service.

_Bert._ And this is your
Determinate sentence?

_Cam._ Not to be revoked.

_Bert._ Farewell, then, fairest cruel! all thoughts in me
Of women perish. Let the glorious light
Of noble war extinguish Love's dim taper.
That only lends me light to see my folly:
Honour, be thou my ever-living mistress,
And fond affection, as thy bond-slave, serve thee!
[_Exit._

_Cam._ How soon my sun is set, he being absent,
Never to rise again! What a fierce battle
Is fought between my passions!

_Syl._ I perceive
He has his answer: now must I step in
To comfort her. [Comes forward.] You have found, I hope, sweet lady,
Some difference between a youth of my pitch,
And this bugbear Bertoldo. Despair not; I
May be in time entreated.

_Cam._ Be so now, to leave me.--
Lights for my chamber! O my heart!
[_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[144] _A piece of motley_,] i. e. _a fool_. Alluding to the
parti-coloured garments worn by the domestic _fool_ of our
ancestors.--GIFFORD.

[145] _We are not parallels; but, like lines divided,
Can ne'er meet in one centre._] Not only Massinger, but many of
our old writers, use _parallels_ for _radii_.

[146] _One aerie with proportion ne'er discloses
The eagle and the wren._] _Aerie_ is the nest of a bird of prey;
_disclose_ is to hatch: the meaning is, eagles and wrens are too
disproportionate in bulk to be _hatched_ in the same
nest.--GIFFORD.