Chapter XIV: Act THE THIRD: SCENE I.--Inside a Church

_Enter the funeral of_ MONTFERRERS.

_D'Am._ Set down the body. Pay Earth what she lent.
But she shall bear a living monument
To let succeeding ages truly know
That she is satisfied what he did owe,
Both principal and use; because his worth
Was better at his death than at his birth.

[_A dead march. Enter the funeral of_ CHARLEMONT _as a_ Soldier.

_D'Am._ And with his body place that memory
Of noble Charlemont, his worthy son;
And give their graves the rites that do belong
To soldiers. They were soldiers both. The father
Held open war with sin, the son with blood:
This in a war more gallant, that more good.
[_The first volley._

_D'Am._ There place their arms, and here their epitaphs
And may these lines survive the last of graves.
[_Reads._

"_The Epitaph of_ MONTFERRERS.

"Here lie the ashes of that earth and fire,
Whose heat and fruit did feed and warm the poor!
And they (as if they would in sighs expire,
And into tears dissolve) his death deplore.
He did that good freely for goodness' sake
Unforced, for generousness he held so dear
That he feared but Him that did him make
And yet he served Him more for love than fear.
So's life provided that though he did die
A sudden death, yet died not suddenly.

"_The Epitaph of_ CHARLEMONT.

"His body lies interred within this mould,
Who died a young man yet departed old,
And in all strength of youth that man can have
Was ready still to drop into his grave.
For aged in virtue, with a youthful eye
He welcomed it, being still prepared to die,
And living so, though young deprived of breath
He did not suffer an untimely death,
But we may say of his brave blessed decease
He died in war, and yet he died in peace."
[_The second volley._

_D'Am._ O might that fire revive the ashes of
This Phœnix! yet the wonder would not be
So great as he was good, and wondered at
For that. His life's example was so true
A practique of religion's theory
That her divinity seemed rather the
Description than the instruction of his life.
And of his goodness was his virtuous son
A worthy imitator. So that on
These two Herculean pillars where their arms
Are placed there may be writ _Non ultra_.[156] For
Beyond their lives, as well for youth as age,
Nor young nor old, in merit or in name,
Shall e'er exceed their virtues or their fame.
[_The third volley._
'Tis done. Thus fair accompliments make foul
Deeds gracious. Charlemont, come now when thou wilt,
I've buried under these two marble stones
Thy living hopes, and thy dead father's bones.
[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ CASTABELLA _mourning, to the monument of_ CHARLEMONT.

_Cast._ O thou that knowest me justly Charlemont's,
Though in the forced possession of another,
Since from thine own free spirit we receive it
That our affections cannot be compelled
Though our actions may, be not displeased if on
The altar of his tomb I sacrifice
My tears. They are the jewels of my love
Dissolved into grief, and fall upon
His blasted Spring, as April dew upon
A sweet young blossom shaked before the time.

_Enter_ CHARLEMONT _with a_ Servant.

_Charl._ Go see my trunks disposed of. I'll but walk
A turn or two i' th' church and follow you.
[_Exit_ Servant.
O! here's the fatal monument of my
Dead father first presented to mine eye.
What's here?--"In memory of Charlemont?"
Some false relation has abused belief.
I am deluded. But I thank thee, Heaven.
For ever let me be deluded thus.
My Castabella mourning o'er my hearse?
Sweet Castabella, rise. I am not dead.

_Cast._ O Heaven defend me! [_Falls in a swoon._

_Charl._ I--Beshrew my rash
And inconsiderate passion.--Castabella!
That could not think--my Castabella!--that
My sudden presence might affright her sense.--
I prithee, my affection, pardon me. [_She rises._
Reduce thy understanding to thine eye.
Within this habit, which thy misinformed
Conceit takes only for a shape, live both
The soul and body of thy Charlemont.

_Cast._ I feel a substance warm, and soft, and moist,
Subject to the capacity of sense.[157]

_Charl._ Which spirits are not; for their essence is
Above the nature and the order of
Those elements whereof our senses are
Created. Touch my lip. Why turn'st thou from me?

_Cast._ Grief above griefs! That which should woe relieve
Wished and obtained, gives greater cause to grieve.

_Charl._ Can Castabella think it cause of grief
That the relation of my death prove false?

_Cast._ The presence of the person we affect,
Being hopeless to enjoy him, makes our grief
More passionate than if we saw him not.

_Charl._ Why not enjoy? Has absence changed thee.

_Cast._ Yes.
From maid to wife.

_Charl._ Art married?

_Cast._ O! I am.

_Charl._ Married?--Had not my mother been a woman,
I should protest against the chastity
Of all thy sex. How can the merchant or
The mariners absent whole years from wives
Experienced in the satisfaction of
Desire, promise themselves to find their sheets
Unspotted with adultery at their
Return, when you that never had the sense
Of actual temptation could not stay
A few short months?

_Cast._ O! do but hear me speak.

_Charl._ But thou wert wise, and did'st consider that
A soldier might be maimed, and so perhaps
Lose his ability to please thee.

_Cast._ No.
That weakness pleases me in him I have.

_Charl._ What, married to a man unable too?
O strange incontinence! Why, was thy blood
Increased to such a pleurisy of lust,[158]
That of necessity there must a vein
Be opened, though by one that had no skill
To do't?

_Cast._ Sir, I beseech you hear me.

_Charl._ Speak.

_Cast._ Heaven knows I am unguilty of this act.

_Charl._ Why? Wert thou forced to do't?

_Cast._ Heaven knows I was.

_Charl._ What villain did it?

_Cast._ Your uncle D'Amville.
And he that dispossessed my love of you
Hath disinherited you of possession.

_Charl._ Disinherited? wherein have I deserved
To be deprived of my dear father's love?

_Cast._ Both of his love and him. His soul's at rest;
But here your injured patience may behold
The signs of his lamented memory.
[CHARLEMONT _finds his_ Father's _monument._
He's found it. When I took him for a ghost
I could endure the torment of my fear
More eas'ly than I can his sorrows hear. [_Exit._

_Charl._ Of all men's griefs must mine be singular?
Without example? Here I met my grave.
And all men's woes are buried i' their graves
But mine. In mine my miseries are born,
I prithee, sorrow, leave a little room
In my confounded and tormented mind
For understanding to deliberate
The cause or author of this accident.--
A close advantage of my absence made
To dispossess me both of land and wife,
And all the profit does arise to him
By whom my absence was first moved and urged,
These circumstances, uncle, tell me you
Are the suspected author of those wrongs,
Whereof the lightest is more heavy than
The strongest patience can endure to bear. [_Exit._

SCENE II.--_An Apartment in_ D'AMVILLE'S _Mansion_.

_Enter_ D'AMVILLE, SEBASTIAN _and_ LANGUEBEAU.

_D'Am._ Now, sir, your business?

_Sebas._ My annuity.

_D'Am._ Not a denier.[159]

_Sebas._ How would you ha' me live?

_D'Am._ Why; turn crier. Cannot you turn crier?

_Sebas._ Yes.

_D'Am._ Then do so: y' have a good voice for't.
Y'are excellent at crying of a rape.[160]

_Sebas._ Sir, I confess in particular respect to yourself I was
somewhat forgetful. General honesty possessed me.

_D'Am._ Go, th'art the base corruption of my blood;
And, like a tetter, growest unto my flesh.

_Sebas._ Inflict any punishment upon me. The severity shall not
discourage me if it be not shameful, so you'll but put money i'
my purse. The want of money makes a free spirit more mad than the
possession does an usurer.

_D'Am._ Not a farthing.

_Sebas._ Would you ha' me turn purse-taker? 'Tis the next way to do't.
For want is like the rack: it draws a man to endanger himself to the
gallows rather than endure it.

_Enter_ CHARLEMONT. D'AMVILLE _counterfeits to take him for a_ Ghost.

_D'Am._ What art thou? Stay--Assist my troubled sense--
My apprehension will distract me--Stay.
[LANGUEBEAU SNUFFE _avoids him fearfully._

_Sebas._ What art thou? Speak.

_Charl._ The spirit of Charlemont.

_D'Am._ O! stay. Compose me. I dissolve.

_Lang._ No. 'Tis profane. Spirits are invisible. 'Tis the fiend i' the
likeness of Charlemont. I will have no conversation with Satan. [_Exit._

_Sebas._ The spirit of Charlemont? I'll try that.
[_He strikes, and the blow is returned._
'Fore God thou sayest true: th'art all spirit.

_D'Am._ Go, call the officers. [_Exit._

_Charl._ Th'art a villain, and the son of a villain.

_Sebas._ You lie.

_Charl._ Have at thee. [_They fight._ SEBASTIAN _falls._

_Enter the_ Ghost _of_ MONTFERRERS.

Revenge, to thee I'll dedicate this work.

_Mont._ Hold, Charlemont.
Let him revenge my murder and thy wrongs
To whom the justice of revenge belongs. [_Exit._

_Charl._ You torture me between the passion of
My blood and the religion of my soul.

_Sebas._ [_Rising._] A good honest fellow!

_Re-enter_ D'AMVILLE _with_ Officers.

_D'Am._ What, wounded? Apprehend him. Sir, is this
Your salutation for the courtesy
I did you when we parted last? You have
Forgot I lent you a thousand crowns. First, let
Him answer for this riot. When the law
Is satisfied for that, an action for
His debt shall clap him up again. I took
You for a spirit and I'll conjure you
Before I ha' done.

_Charl._ No, I'll turn conjuror. Devil!
Within this circle, in the midst of all
Thy force and malice, I conjure thee do
Thy worst.

_D'Am._ Away with him!
[_Exeunt_ Officers _with_ CHARLEMONT.

_Sebas._ Sir, I have got
A scratch or two here for your sake. I hope
You'll give me money to pay the surgeon.

_D'Am._ Borachio, fetch me a thousand crowns. I am
Content to countenance the freedom of
Your spirit when 'tis worthily employed.
'A God's name, give behaviour the full scope
Of generous liberty, but let it not
Disperse and spend itself in courses of
Unbounded licence. Here, pay for your hurts.
[_Exit._

_Sebas._ I thank you, sir.--Generous liberty!--that is to say, freely
to bestow my abilities to honest purposes. Methinks I should not
follow that instruction now, if having the means to do an honest
office for an honest fellow, I should neglect it. Charlemont lies
in prison for a thousand crowns. Honesty tells me 'twere well done
to release Charlemont. But discretion says I had much ado to come by
this, and when this shall be gone I know not where to finger any more,
especially if I employ it to this use, which is like to endanger me
into my father's perpetual displeasure. And then I may go hang myself,
or be forced to do that will make another save me the labour. No
matter, Charlemont, thou gavest me my life, and that's somewhat of a
purer earth than gold, fine as it is. 'Tis no courtesy, I do thee but
thankfulness. I owe it thee, and I'll pay it. He fought bravely, but
the officers dragged him villanously. Arrant knaves! for using him so
discourteously; may the sins o' the poor people be so few that you sha'
not be able to spare so much out of your gettings as will pay for the
hire of a lame starved hackney to ride to an execution, but go a-foot
to the gallows and be hanged. May elder brothers turn good husbands,
and younger brothers get good wives, that there be no need of debt
books nor use of serjeants. May there be all peace, but i' the war
and all charity, but i' the devil, so that prisons may be turned to
hospitals, though the officers live o' the benevolence. If this curse
might come to pass, the world would say, "Blessed be he that curseth."
[_Exit._

SCENE III.--_Inside a Prison._

CHARLEMONT _discovered._

_Charl._ I grant thee, Heaven, thy goodness doth command
Our punishments, but yet no further than
The measure of our sins. How should they else
Be just? Or how should that good purpose of
Thy justice take effect by bounding men
Within the confines of humanity,
When our afflictions do exceed our crimes?
Then they do rather teach the barbarous world
Examples that extend her cruelties
Beyond their own dimensions, and instruct
Our actions to be much more barbarous.
O my afflicted soul! How torment swells
Thy apprehension with profane conceit,
Against the sacred justice of my God!
Our own constructions are the authors of
Our misery. We never measure our
Conditions but with men above us in
Estate. So while our spirits labour to
Be higher than our fortunes, they are more base.
Since all those attributes which make men seem
Superior to us, are man's subjects and
Were made to serve him. The repining man
Is of a servile spirit to deject
The value of himself below their estimation.

_Enter_ SEBASTIAN _with the_ Keeper.

_Sebas._ Here. Take my sword.--How now, my wild swaggerer? Y'are
tame enough now, are you not? The penury of a prison is like a soft
consumption. 'Twill humble the pride o' your mortality, and arm your
soul in complete patience to endure the weight of affliction without
feeling it. What, hast no music in thee? Th' hast trebles and basses
enough. Treble injury and base usage. But trebles and basses make poor
music without means.[161] Thou wantest means, dost? What? Dost droop?
art dejected?

_Charl._ No, sir. I have a heart above the reach
Of thy most violent maliciousness;
A fortitude in scorn of thy contempt
(Since Fate is pleased to have me suffer it)
That can bear more than thou hast power t' inflict.
I was a baron. That thy father has
Deprived me of. Instead of that I am
Created king. I've lost a signiory[162]
That was confined within a piece of earth,
A wart upon the body of the world,
But now I am an emperor of a world,
This little world of man. My passions are
My subjects, and I can command them laugh,
Whilst thou dost tickle 'em to death with misery.

_Sebas._ 'Tis bravely spoken, and I love thee for't. Thou liest here
for a thousand crowns. Here are a thousand to redeem thee. Not for the
ransom o' my life thou gavest me,--that I value not at one crown--'tis
none o' my deed. Thank my father for't. 'Tis his goodness. Yet he
looks not for thanks. For he does it under hand, out of a reserved
disposition to do thee good without ostentation.--Out o' great heart
you'll refuse't now; will you?

_Charl._ No. Since I must submit myself to Fate,
I never will neglect the offer of
One benefit, but entertain them as
Her favours and the inductions to some end
Of better fortune. As whose instrument,
I thank thy courtesy.

_Sebas._ Well, come along. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.--_An Apartment in_ D'AMVILLE'S _Mansion._

_Enter_ D'AMVILLE _and_ CASTABELLA.

_D'Am._ Daughter, you do not well to urge me. I
Ha' done no more than justice. Charlemont
Shall die and rot in prison, and 'tis just.

_Cast._ O father, mercy is an attribute
As high as justice, an essential part
Of his unbounded goodness, whose divine
Impression, form, and image man should bear!
And, methinks, man should love to imitate
His mercy, since the only countenance
Of justice were destruction, if the sweet
And loving favour of his mercy did
Not mediate between it and our weakness.

_D'Am._ Forbear. You will displease me. He shall rot.

_Cast._ Dear sir, since by your greatness you
Are nearer heaven in place, be nearer it
In goodness. Rich men should transcend the poor
As clouds the earth, raised by the comfort of
The sun to water dry and barren grounds.
If neither the impression in your soul
Of goodness, nor the duty of your place
As goodness' substitute can move you, then
Let nature, which in savages, in beasts,
Can stir to pity, tell you that he is
Your kinsman.--

_D'Am._ You expose your honesty
To strange construction. Why should you so urge
Release for Charlemont? Come, you profess
More nearness to him than your modesty
Can answer. You have tempted my suspicion.
I tell thee he shall starve, and die, and rot.

_Enter_ CHARLEMONT _and_ SEBASTIAN.

_Charl._ Uncle, I thank you.

_D'Am._ Much good do it you.--Who did release him?

_Sebas._ I. [_Exit_ CASTABELLA.

_D'Am._ You are a villain.

_Sebas._ Y'are my father. [_Exit_ SEBASTIAN.

_D'Am._ I must temporize.--[_Aside._
Nephew, had not his open freedom made
My disposition known, I would ha' borne
The course and inclination of my love
According to the motion of the sun,
Invisibly enjoyed and understood.

_Charl._ That shows your good works are directed to
No other end than goodness. I was rash,
I must confess. But--

_D'Am._ I will excuse you.
To lose a father and, as you may think,
Be disinherited, it must be granted
Are motives to impatience. But for death,
Who can avoid it? And for his estate,
In the uncertainty of both your lives
'Twas done discreetly to confer't upon
A known successor being the next in blood.
And one, dear nephew, whom in time to come
You shall have cause to thank. I will not be
Your dispossessor but your guardian.
I will supply your father's vacant place
To guide your green improvidence of youth,
And make you ripe for your inheritance.

_Charl._ Sir, I embrace your generous promises.

_Enter_ ROUSARD _looking sickly, and_ CASTABELLA.

_Rous._ Embracing! I behold the object that
Mine eye affects. Dear cousin Charlemont!

_D'Am._ My elder son! He meets you happily.
For with the hand of our whole family
We interchange the indenture[163] of our loves.

_Charl._ And I accept it. Yet not so joyfully
Because y'are sick.

_D'Am._ Sir, his affection's sound
Though he be sick in body.

_Rous._ Sick indeed.
A general weakness did surprise my health
The very day I married Castabella,
As if my sickness were a punishment
That did arrest me for some injury
I then committed. Credit me, my love,
I pity thy ill fortune to be matched
With such a weak, unpleasing bedfellow.

_Cast._ Believe me, sir, it never troubles me.
I am as much respectless to enjoy
Such pleasure, as ignorant what it is.

_Charl._ Thy sex's wonder. Unhappy Charlemont!

_D'Am._ Come, let's to supper. There we will confirm
The eternal bond of our concluded love. [_Exeunt._