Loe raamatut: «The Spanish Curate: A Comedy»

Beaumont Francis, Fletcher John

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Persons Represented in the Play

Don Henrique, an uxorious Lord, cruel to his Brother.

Don Jamie, younger Brother to Don Henrique.

Bartolus, a covetous Lawyer Husband to Amaranta.

Leandro, a Gentleman who wantonly loves the Lawyers Wife.

Angelo, } Three Gentlemen Friend[s]

Milanes,} to Leandro.

Arsenio,}

Ascanio, Son to Don Henrique.

Octavio, supposed Husband to Jacintha.

Lopez, the Spanish Curate.

Diego, his Sexton.

Assistant, which we call a Judge.

Algazeirs, whom we call Serjeants.

4 Parishioners.

Apparitor.

Singers.

Servants.

WOMEN.

Violante, supposed Wife to Don Henrique.

Jacintha, formerly contracted to Don Henrique.

Amaranta, Wife to Bartolus.

A Woman Moor, Servant to Amaranta. The Scene Spain.

The principal Actors were,

Joseph Taylor. } {William Eglestone.

John Lowin. } {Thomas Polard.

Nicholas Toolie.} {Robert Benfeild.

Actus primus. Scena prima

Enter Angelo, Milanes, and Arsenio.

Arsenio.

Leandro paid all.

Mil.

'Tis his usual custom,
And requisite he should: he has now put off
The Funeral black, (your rich heir wears with joy,
When he pretends to weep for his dead Father)
Your gathering Sires, so long heap muck together,
That their kind Sons, to rid them of their care,
Wish them in Heaven; or if they take a taste
Of Purgatory by the way, it matters not,
Provided they remove hence; what is befaln
To his Father, in the other world, I ask not;
I am sure his prayer is heard: would I could use one
For mine, in the same method.

Ars.

Fie upon thee.
This is prophane.

Mil.

Good Doctor, do not school me
For a fault you are not free from: On my life
Were all Heirs in Corduba, put to their Oaths,
They would confess with me, 'tis a sound Tenet:
I am sure Leandro do's.

Ars.

He is th'owner
Of a fair Estate.

Mil.

And fairly he deserves it,
He's a Royal Fellow: yet observes a mean
In all his courses, careful too on whom
He showers his bounties: he that's liberal
To all alike, may do a good by chance,
But never out of Judgment: This invites
The prime men of the City to frequent
All places he resorts to, and are happy
In his sweet Converse.

Ars.

Don Jamie the Brother
To the Grandee Don Henrique, appears much taken
With his behaviour.

Mil.

There is something more in't:
He needs his Purse, and knows how to make use on't.
'Tis now in fashion for your Don, that's poor,
To vow all Leagues of friendship with a Merchant
That can supply his wants, and howsoe're
Don Jamie's noble born, his elder Brother
Don Henrique rich, and his Revenues long since
Encreas'd by marrying with a wealthy Heir
Call'd, Madam Vi[o]lante, he yet holds
A hard hand o're Jamie, allowing him
A bare annuity only.

Ars.

Yet 'tis said
He hath no child, and by the Laws of Spain
If he die without issue, Don Jamie
Inherits his Estate.

Mil.

Why that's the reason
Of their so many jarrs: though the young Lord
Be sick of the elder Brother, and in reason
Should flatter, and observe him, he's of a nature
Too bold and fierce, to stoop so, but bears up,
Presuming on his hopes.

Ars.

What's the young Lad
That all of 'em make so much of?

Mil.

'Tis a sweet one,
And the best condition'd youth, I ever saw yet,
So humble, and so affable, that he wins
The love of all that know him, and so modest,
That (in despight of poverty) he would starve
Rather than ask a courtesie: He's the Son
Of a poor cast-Captain, one Octavio;
And She, that once was call'd th'fair Jacinta,
Is happy in being his Mother: for his sake,

Enter Jamie, Leandro, and Ascanio.

(Though in their Fortunes faln) they are esteem'd of,
And cherish'd by the best. O here they come.
I now may spare his Character, but observe him,
He'l justifie my report.

Jam.

My good Ascanio,
Repair more often to me: above Women
Thou ever shalt be welcome.

Asc.

My Lord your favours
May quickly teach a raw untutour'd Youth
To be both rude and sawcy.

Lean.

You cannot be
Too frequent where you are so much desir'd:
And give me leave (dear friend) to be your Rival
In part of his affection; I will buy it
At any rate.

Jam.

Stood I but now possess'd
Of what my future hope presages to me,
I then would make it clear thou hadst a Patron
That would not say but do: yet as I am,
Be mine, I'le not receive thee as a servant,
But as my Son, (and though I want my self)
No Page attending in the Court of Spain
Shall find a kinder master.

Asc.

I beseech you
That my refusal of so great an offer
May make no ill construction, 'tis not pride
(That common vice is far from my condition)
That makes you a denyal to receive
A favour I should sue for: nor the fashion
Which the Country follows, in which to be a servant
In those that groan beneath the heavy weight
Of poverty, is held an argument
Of a base abject mind, I wish my years
Were fit to do you service in a nature
That might become a Gentleman (give me leave
To think my self one) My Father serv'd the King
As a Captain in the field; and though his fortune
Return'd him home a poor man, he was rich
In Reputation, and wounds fairly taken.
Nor am I by his ill success deterr'd,
I rather feel a strong desire that sways me
To follow his profession, and if Heaven
Hath mark'd me out to be a man, how proud,
In the service of my Country, should I be,
To trail a Pike under your brave command!
There, I would follow you as a guide to honour,
Though all the horrours of the War made up
To stop my passage.

Jam.

Thou art a hopeful Boy,
And it was bravely spoken: For this answer,
I love thee more than ever.

Mil.

Pity such seeds
Of promising courage should not grow and prosper.

Ang.

What ever his reputed Parents be,
He hath a mind that speaks him right and noble.

Lean.

You make him blush; it needs not sweet Ascanio,
We may hear praises when they are deserv'd,
Our modesty unwounded. By my life
I would add something to the building up
So fair a mind, and if till you are fit
To bear Arms in the Field, you'l spend some years
In Salamanca, I'le supply your studies
With all conveniences.

Asc.

Your goodness (Signiors)
And charitable favours overwhelm me.
If I were of your blood, you could not be
More tender of me: what then can I pay
(A poor Boy and a stranger) but a heart
Bound to your service? with what willingness
I would receive (good Sir) your noble offer,
Heaven can bear witness for me: but alas,
Should I embrace the means to raise my fortunes,
I must destroy the lives of my poor Parents
(To who[m] I ow my being) they in me
Place all their comforts, and (as if I were
The light of their dim eyes) are so indulgent
They cannot brook one short dayes absence from me;
And (what will hardly win belief) though young,
I am their Steward and their Nurse: the bounties
Which others bestow on me serves to sustain 'em,
And to forsake them in their age, in me
Were more than Murther.

Enter Henrique.

Aug.

This is a kind of begging
Would make a Broker charitable.

Mil.

Here, (sweet heart)
I wish it were more.

Lean.

When this is spent,
Seek for supply from me.

Jam.

Thy piety
For ever be remembred: nay take all,
Though 'twere my exhibition to a Royal
For one whole year.

Asc.

High Heavens reward your goodness.

Hen.

So Sir, is this a slip of your own grafting,
You are so prodigal?

Jam.

A slip Sir?

Hen.

Yes,
A slip; or call it by the proper name,
Your Bastard.

Jam.

You are foul-mouth'd; do not provoke me,
I shall forget your Birth if you proceed,
And use you, (as your manners do deserve) uncivilly.

Hen.

So brave! pray you give me hearing,
Who am I Sir?

Jam.

My elder Brother: One
That might have been born a fool, and so reputed,
But that you had the luck to creep into
The world a year before me.

Lean.

Be more temperate.

Jam.

I neither can nor will, unless I learn it
By his example: let him use his harsh
Unsavoury reprehensions upon those
That are his Hinds, and not on me. The Land
Our Father left to him alone rewards him,
For being twelve months elder, let that be
Forgotten, and let his Parasites remember
One quality of worth or vertue in him
That may authorize him, to be a censurer
Of me, or my manners, and I will
Acknowledge him for a Tutor, till then, never.

Hen.

From whom have you your means Sir?

Jam.

From the will
Of my dead Father; I am sure I spend not
Nor give't upon your purse.

Hen.

But will it hold out
Without my help?

Jam.

I am sure it shall, I'le sink else,
For sooner I will seek aid from a Whore,
Than a courtesie from you.

Hen.

'Tis well; you are proud of
Your new Exchequer, when you have cheated him
And worn him to the quick, I may be found
In the List of your acquaintance.

Lean

Pray you hold
And give me leave (my Lord) to say thus much
(And in mine own defence) I am no Gull
To be wrought on by perswasion: nor no Coward
To be beaten out of my means, but know to whom
And why I give or lend, and will do nothing
But what my reason warrants; you may be
As sparing as you please, I must be bold
To make use of my own, without your licence.

Jam.

'Pray thee let him alone, he is not worth thy anger.
All that he do's (Leandro) is for my good,
I think there's not a Gentleman of Spain,
That has a better Steward, than I have of him.

Hen.

Your Steward Sir?

Jam.

Yes, and a provident one:
Why, he knows I am given to large expence,
And therefore lays up for me: could you believe else
That he, that sixteen years hath worn the yoke
Of barren wedlock, without hope of issue
(His Coffers full, his Lands and Vineyards fruitful)
Could be so sold to base and sordid thrift,
As almost to deny himself, the means
And necessaries of life? Alas, he knows
The Laws of Spain appoint me for his Heir,
That all must come to me, if I out-live him,
Which sure I must do, by the course of Nature,
And the assistance of good Mirth, and Sack,
How ever you prove Melancholy.

Hen.

If I live,
Thou dearly shalt repent this.

Jam.

When thou art dead,
I am sure I shall not.

Mil.

Now they begin to burn
Like oppos'd Meteors.

Ars.

Give them line, and way,
My life for Don Jamie.

Jam.

Continue still
The excellent Husband, and joyn Farm to Farm,
Suffer no Lordship, that in a clear day
Falls in the prospect of your covetous eye
To be anothers; forget you are a Grandee;
Take use upon use, and cut the throats of Heirs
With cozening Mortgages: rack your poor Tenants,
Till they look like so many Skeletons
For want of Food; and when that Widows curses,
The ruines of ancient Families, tears of Orphans
Have hurried you to the Devil, ever remember
All was rak'd up for me (your thankful Brother)
That will dance merrily upon your Grave,
And perhaps give a double Pistolet
To some poor needy Frier, to say a Mass
To keep your Ghost from walking.

Hen.

That the Law
Should force me to endure this!

Jam.

Verily,
When this shall come to pass (as sure it will)
If you can find a loop-hole, though in Hell,
To look on my behaviour, you shall see me
Ransack your Iron Chests, and once again
Pluto's flame-colour'd Daughter shall be free
To domineer in Taverns, Masques, and Revels
As she was us'd before she was your Captive.
Me thinks the meer conceipt of it, should make you
Go home sick, and distemper'd; if it do's,
I'le send you a Doctor of mine own, and after
Take order for your Funeral.

Hen.

You have said, Sir,
I will not fight with words, but deeds to tame you,
Rest confident I will, and thou shalt wish
This day thou hadst been dumb.—

[Exit.

Mil.

You have given him a heat,
But with your own distemper.

Jam.

Not a whit,
Now he is from mine eye, I can be merry,
Forget the cause and him: all plagues go with him,
Let's talk of something else: what news is stirring?
Nothing to pass the time?

Mil.

'Faith it is said
That the next Summer will determine much
Of that we long have talk'd of, touching the Wars.

Lean.

What have we to do with them? Let us discourse
Of what concerns our selves. 'Tis now in fashion
To have your Gallants set down in a Tavern,
What the Arch-Dukes purpose is the next spring, and what
Defence my Lords (the States) prepare: what course
The Emperour takes against the encroaching Turk,
And whether his Moony-standards are design'd
For Persia or Polonia: and all this
The wiser sort of State-Worms seem to know
Better than their own affairs: this is discourse
Fit for the Council it concerns; we are young,
And if that I might give the Theme, 'twere better
To talk of handsome Women.

Mil.

And that's one,
Almost as general.

Ars.

Yet none agree
Who are the fairest.

Lean.

Some prefer the French,
For their conceited Dressings: some the plump
Italian Bona-Robas, some the State
That ours observe; and I have heard one swear,
(A merry friend of mine) that once in London,
He did enjoy the company of a Gamester,
(A common Gamester too) that in one night
Met him th' Italian, French, and Spanish wayes,
And ended in the Dutch; for to cool her self,
She kiss'd him drunk in the morning.

Fam.

We may spare
The travel of our tongues in forraign Nations,
When in Corduba, if you dare give credit
To my report (for I have seen her, Gallants)
There lives a Woman (of a mean birth too,
And meanly match'd) whose all-excelling Form
Disdains comparison with any She
That puts in for a fair one, and though you borrow
From every Country of the Earth the best
Of those perfections, which the Climat yields
To help to make her up, if put in Ballance,
This will weigh down the Scale.

Lean.

You talk of wonders.

Jam.

She is indeed a wonder, and so kept,
And, as the world deserv'd not to behold
What curious Nature made without a pattern,
Whose Copy she hath lost too, she's shut up,
Sequestred from the world.

Lean.

Who is the owner
Of such a Jem? I am fire'd.

Jam.

One Bartolus,
A wrangling Advocate.

Ars.

A knave on Record.

Mil.

I am sure he cheated me of the best part
Of my Estate.

Jam.

Some Business calls me hence,
(And of importance) which denies me leisure
To give you his full character: In few words
(Though rich) he's covetous beyond expression,
And to encrease his heap, will dare the Devil,
And all the plagues of darkness: and to these
So jealous, as if you would parallel
Old Argus to him, you must multiply
His Eyes an hundred times: of these none sleep.
He that would charm the heaviest lid, must hire
A better Mercurie, than Jove made use of:
Bless your selves from the thought of him and her,
For 'twill be labour lost: So farewel Signiors.—

[Exit.

Ars.

Leandro? in a dream? wake man for shame.

Mil.

Trained into a fools paradise with a tale
Of an imagin'd Form.

Lea.

Jamie is noble,
And with a forg'd Tale would not wrong his Friend,
Nor am I so much fir'd with lust as Envie,
That such a churl as Bartolus should reap
So sweet a harvest, half my State to any
To help me to a share.

Ars.

Tush do not hope for
Impossibilities.

Lea.

I must enjoy her,
And my prophetique love tells me I shall,
Lend me but your assistance.

Ars.

Give it o're.

Mil.

I would not have thee fool'd.
Lea. I have strange Engines
Fashioning here: and Bartolus on the Anvil,
Disswade me not, but help me.

Mil.

Take your fortune,
If you come off well, praise your wit; if not,
Expect to be the subject of our Laughter.

[Exeunt.

SCENA II

Enter Octavio, and Jacinta.

Jac.

You met Don Henrique?

Oct.

Yes.

Jac.

What comfort bring you?
Speak cheerfully: how did my letter work
On his hard temper? I am sure I wrote it
So feelingly, and with the pen of sorrow,
That it must force Compunction.

Oct.

You are cozen'd;
Can you with one hand prop a falling Tower?
Or with the other stop the raging main,
When it breaks in on the usurped shore?
Or any thing that is impossible?
And then conclude that there is some way left,
To move him to compassion.

Jac.

Is there a Justice
Or thunder (my Octavio) and he
Not sunk unto the center?

Oct.

Good Jacinta,
With your long practised patience bear afflictions,
And by provoking call not on Heavens anger,
He did not only scorn to read your letter,
But (most inhumane as he is) he cursed you,
Cursed you most bitterly.

Jac.

The bad mans charity.
Oh that I could forget there were a Tye,
In me, upon him! or the relief I seek,
(If given) were bounty in him, and not debt,
Debt of a dear accompt!

Oct.

Touch not that string,
'Twill but encrease your sorrow: and tame silence,
(The Balm of the oppressed) which hitherto
Hath eas'd your griev'd soul, and preserv'd your fame,
Must be your Surgeon still.

Jac.

If the contagion
Of my misfortunes had not spread it self
Upon my Son Ascanio, though my wants
Were centupli'd upon my self, I could be patient:
But he is so good, I so miserable,
His pious care, his duty, and obedience,
And all that can be wish'd for from a Son,
Discharg'd to me, and I, barr'd of all means
To return any scruple of the debt
I owe him as a Mother, is a Torment,
Too painfull to be born.

Oct.

I suffer with you,
In that; yet find in this assurance comfort,
High Heaven ordains (whose purposes cannot alter)

Enter Ascanio.

Children that pay obedience to their Parents,
Shall never beg their Bread.

Jac.

Here comes our joy,
Where has my dearest been?

Asc.

I have made, Mother,
A fortunate voyage and brought home rich prize,
In a few hours: the owners too contented,
From whom I took it. See here's Gold, good store too,
Nay, pray you take it.

Jac.

Mens Charities are so cold,
That if I knew not, thou wert made of Goodness,
'Twould breed a jealousie in me by what means,
Thou cam'st by such a sum.

Asc.

Were it ill got,
I am sure it could not be employed so well,
As to relieve your wants. Some noble friends,
(Rais'd by heavens mercy to me, not my merits)
Bestow'd it on me.

Oct.

It were a sacriledge
To rob thee of their bounty, since they gave it
To thy use only.
Jac. Buy thee brave Cloathes with it
And fit thee for a fortune, and leave us
To our necessities; why do'st thou weep?

Asc.

Out of my fear I have offended you;
For had I not, I am sure you are too kind,
Not to accept the offer of my service,
In which I am a gainer; I have heard
My tutor say, of all aereal fowl
The Stork's the Embleme of true pietie,
Because when age hath seiz'd upon her dam,
And made unfit for flight, the gratefull young one
Takes her upon his back, provides her food,
Repaying so her tender care of him,
E're he was fit to fly, by bearing her:
Shall I then that have reason and discourse
That tell me all I can doe is too little,
Be more unnatural than a silly bird?
Or feed or cloath my self superfluously,
And know, nay see you want? holy Saints keep me.