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Stew. That never walks without a lady's busk, Aret. What news abroad? You hold precious And plays with fans:-Mr. Alexander Kickshaw. intelligence. I thought I should remember him.
Lit. Alltonguesare so much busy with your praise, Aret. What's the other ?
They have not time to frame other discourse. Stew. What an unlucky memory I have Wilt please you, madam, taste a sugar-plum? The gallant that still danceth in the street,
Born. What does the goldsmith think the pearl And wears a gross of ribbon in his hat;
is worth That carries oringado in his pocket,
You borrowd of my lady? And sugar-plums to sweeten his discourse;
Kick. "Tis a rich one. That studies compliment, defies all wit
Born. She has many othertoys, whose fashion you On black, and censures plays that are not bawdy Will like extremely. You have no intention Mr. John Littleworth.
To buy any of her jewels ? Aret. They are welcome ; but
Kick. Understand me. Pray entertain them a small time, lest I
Born. You had rather sell perhaps ? But leaving Be unprovided.
I hope you'll dine with us?
(this, Born. Did they ask for me?
Kick. I came on purpose. Stew. No, sir.
Aret. And where were you last night ? Born. It matters not, they must be welcome. Kick. I, madam ? where
Aret. Fie, how this hair's disorder'd; here'sa curl I slept not : it had been sin, where so much
(Erit. There is a lady, madam, will be worth
So spirited, so courtly, speaks the languages, A tempest, and the house be shook with names Sings, dances, plays o’the lute to admiration; Of all her kindred. "Tis a servitude
Is fair, and paints not ; games too, keeps a table, I may in time shake off.
And talks most witty satire ; has a wit
Of a clean Mercury. Enter MR. ALEXANDER KICKSHAW and LITTLEWORTH. Lit. Is she married ? Kick. and Lit. Save you, Sir Thomas.
Kick. No. Born. Save you, gentlemen.
dret. A virgin ? Kick. I kiss your hand.
Lit. What, a widow? Something
Excused this such a prodigy.
Kick. Repent, Born. She'll instantly appear
Before I name her. She did never see To the discredit of your compliment ;
Yet full sixteen ; an age in the opinion But you express your wit thus.
Of wise men not contemptible. She has Kick. And you modesty,
Mourn'd out her year too for the honest knight Not to affect the praises of your own,
That had compassion of her youth and died Born. Leaving this subject, what game's now So timely. Such a widow is not common ; What exercise carries the general vote [afoot ? And now she shines [abroad] more fresh and O'the town now! Nothing moves without your Than any natural virgin.
Aret. What's her name? Kick. The cocking now has all the noise. I'll have Kick. She was christend Celestina; by her husA hundred pieces of one battle. Oh,
band These birds of Mars !
The lady Belamour. This ring was hers. Lit. Venus is Mars his bird too.
Born. You borrow'd it to copy out the posy? Kick. Why, and the pretty doves are Venuses,
Kick. Are they not pretty rubies! 'Twas a grace To show that kisses draw the chariot.
She was pleased to show me, that I might have one Lit. I'm for that skirmish.
Made of the (self) same fashion, for I love Born. When shall we have
All pretty forms. More booths and bagpipes upon Bansted downs ?
Aret. And is she glorious ? No mighty race is expected? But my lady returns.
Kick. She is full of jewels, madam ; but I am
Most taken with the bravery of her mind,
Although her garments have allgraceand ornament. Aret. Fair morning to you, gentlemen ;
Aret. You have been high in praises. You went not late to bed, by your early visit.
Kick. I come short ; You do me honour.
No flattery can reach her. Kick. It becomes our service.
Born. Now my lady
Is troubled, as she fear’d to be eclipsed.
The gout in your worship’s hand? You are afraid This news will cost me somewhat.
(Aside. To infect my nostrils thus, or is 't to favour Aret. You deserve
To exercise your pen in your account-book,
Or do you doubt my credit to discharge
Stew. Madam, I hope you have not found
My duty with the guilt of sloth or jealousy I long to see her too. Madam, I have
Unapt to your command.
Cel. You can extenuate
To be obey'd. What hangings have we here?
Stew. They are arras, madam. I see the folly of my thrift, and will
Cel. Impudence, I know't. Repent in sack and prodigality
I will have fresher and more rich, not wrought To your own heart's content.
With faces that may scandalise a Christian, Aret. But do not mock.
With Jewish stories, stuff’d with corn and camels : Born. Take me to your embraces, gentlemen, You had best wrap all my chambers in wild Irish, And tutor me.
And make a nursery of monsters here, Lit. And will you kiss the ladies ? [beauty- To fright the ladies come to visit me.
Born. And sing, and dance.-I long to see this Stew. Madam, I hope--
Cel. The inside, as I gave direction,
Cel. Ten thousand moths consume't! Shall I ride Who shall charge all their [great] artillery
through With oranges and lemons, boy, to play
The streets in penance, wrapt up round in hairAll dinner upon our capons.
cloth ? Kick. He's exalted.
Sell 't to an alderman,-'twill serve his wife Born. I will do anything to please my lady, To go a feasting to their country house,Let that suffice, and kiss o' the same condition. Or fetch a merchant's nurse-child, and come home I am converted, do not you dispute,
Laden with fruit and cheesecakes. I despise it. But patiently allow the miracle.
Stew. The nails adorn it, madam, set in method Aret. I am glad to hear you sit in so good tune. And pretty forms. Enter Servant.
Cel. But single-gilt, I warrant ? Serv. Madam, the painter.
Stew. No, madam. Aret. I am to sit this morning.
Cel. Another solecism. O fie! Kick. With your favour we'll wait on you ;
This fellow will bring me to a consumption A melancholy exercise without [sitting 's but
With fretting at his ignorance. Some lady Some company to discourse.
Had rather never pray than go to church in 't. Aret. It does conclude
The nails not double-gilt !-to market with it! A lady's morning work ; we rise, make fine,
'Twill hackney out to Mile End, or convey Sit for our picture, and 'tis time to dine.
Your city tumblers to be drunk with cream
Cel. I'll rather be beholding to my aunt,
The countess, for her mourning coach, than be
Shall any juggling tradesman
Be at charge to shoe his running horse with gold, Enter CELESTINA and her Steward.
And shall my coach-nails be but single-gilt ?
How dare these knaves abuse me so !
[thrift Stew. Vouchsafe
And prunes at
FROM THE SAME.
Cel. Is my sedan yet finish'd
ARETINA'S RECEPTION OF HER NEPHEW
Persons–BORNWELL, FREDERICK, and STEWARD.
Enter Mr. FREDERICK.
Stew. Mr. Frederick, welcome. I expected no
So soon your presence. What's the hasty cause Had all the story of the prodigal
Fred. These letters from my tutor will acquair Embroider'd with pearl ?
Where's my aunt ? [you
Stew. She's busy about her painting in her closet
Fred. She’s sitting for her picture ?
Stew. Yes, sir ; and when 'tis drawn, she wil
be hang'd Cel. How, sir, my honour ?
Next the French cardinal in the dining-room.
But when she hears you're come, she will dismiss
Fred. Change of air has made you witty.
Born. Your tutorgives you a handsome character
You have no quarrel to the liberal arts ?
Learning is an addition beyond
Nobility of birth ; honour of blood,
Without the ornament of knowledge, is
A glorious ignorance.
Fred. I never knew more sweet and happy hours
A part of my philosophy, and was so
I could have wasted my whole life upon ’t.
Born. 'Tis pity a rash indulgence should corrupt
So fair a genius. She's here;-I'll observe.
Enter ARETINA, KICKSHAW, LITTLEWORTH,
Fred. My most loved aunt.
Lit. What ails your ladyship?
Aret. Is that Frederick
Fred. Madam, you appear troubled.
Home like a very scholar ?
Kick. 'Twas ill done,
Howe'er they used him in the university,
Fred. Why, sir, black
[Exit. Is not, within my reading, any blemish;
Kick. 'Tis coming from the college thus that
Dishonourable. While you wore it for [makes it
Your father it was commendable, or were
Your aunt dead you might mourn and justify.
Aret. What luck * I did not send him into
They would have given him generous education,
Aret. Some strong waters,-oh!
[Offers his bo.r. Aret. I fear he's spoil'd for ever: he did name Logic, and may, for ought I know, be gone So far to understand it. I did always Suspect they would corrupt him in the college. Will
your Greek saws and sentences discharge
any charity, let me
Kick. If you dare
Aret. Mr. Littleworth,
Lit. I will teach him
Aret. I have no patience To see him in this shape, it turns my stomach. When he has cast liis academic skin, He shall be yours. I am bound in conscience To see him bred, his own 'state shall maintain The charge while he's my ward. Come hither, sir.
Fred. What does my aunt mean to do with me? Stew. To make you a fine gentleman, and trans
Fred. Mr. Steward, are you sure we do not dream? Was't not my aunt you talk'd to ?
Slew. One that loves you Dear as her life. These clothes do not become you; You must have better, sir. Fred. These are not old.
[keep Stew. More suitable to the town and time. We No Lent here, nor is't my lady's pleasure you Should fast from anything you have a mind to, Unless it be yourlearning, which she would have you Forget with all convenient speed that may be For the credit of your noble family. The case is alter'd since we lived in the country ; We do not (now) invite the poor o'the parish To dinner, keep a table for the tenants ; Our kitchen does not smell of beef, the cellar Defies the price of malt and hops ; the footmen And coach-drivers may be drunk like gentlemen With wine ; nor will three fiddlers upon holidays, With aid of bagpipes, that call'd in the country To dance and plough the hall up with their hobnails, Now make my lady merry; we do feed Like princes, and feast nothing (else) but princes, And are those robes fit to be seen amongst 'em ?
Fred. My lady keeps a court then? Is Sir Thomas Affected with this state and cost ?
Stew. He was not, But is converted. But I hope you will not Persist in heresy, but take a course Of riot to content your friends; you shall Want nothing. If you can be proud and spend it For my lady's honour, here are a hundred Pieces will serve you till you have new clothes ; I will present you with a nag of mine, Poor tender of my service-please to accept, My lady's smile more than rewards me for it. I must provide fit servants to attend you, Monsieurs for horse and foot.
Fred. I shall submit, If this be my aunt's pleasure, and be ruled, My eyes are open'd with this purse already, And sack will help to inspire ine. I must spend it.
FROM “ CHABOT ADMIRAL OF FRANCE."
The Queen insulting the Wife and Father of the accused
Admiral in their misfortunes.
Out of your learned language, sir, into
Born. Into what mischief will this humour ebb?
[Exeunt all but FREDERICK and the STEWARD.
Persons. The Constable of France, Queen, Wife and
Father of CHABOT. Constable introducing the Wife of CHABOT. Cons. She attends you, madam. Queen. This humbleness proceeds not from your
heart; Why, you are a queen yourself in your own
thoughts ; The admiral's wife of France cannot be less; You have not state enough, you should not move Without a train of friends and servants.
[* As Chapman had certainly the larger share in this Tragedy, the specimen should have been placed by Mr. Campbell under Chapman. Gifford at first thought Chabot' was scarce admissible in a collection of Shirley's Works.]
Wife. There is some mystery
You are my queen, unto that title bows Within your language, madam. I would hope The humblest knee in France, my heart made lower You have more charity than to imagine
With my obedience and prostrate duty, My present condition worth your triumph, Nor have I powers created for my use In which I am not so lost but I have
When just commands of you expect their service; Some friends and servants with proportion But were you queen of all the world, or something To my lord's fortune ; but none within the lists To be thought greater, betwixt Heaven and us, Of those that obey me can be more ready
That I could reach you with my eyes and voice, To express their duties, than my heart to serve I would shoot both up in defence of my Your just commands.
Abused honour, and stand all your lightning. Queen. Then pride will ebb, I see ;
Queen. So brave?
I cannot fear, arin'd with a noble conscience,
Yet with what freedom of my soul I can
Queen. Forgive? What insolence is like this lanOf state, whose honourable titles
Can any action of ours be capable [guage? Would crack an elephant's back, is now turn'd Of thy forgiveness ? Dust ! how I despise thee! Must pass examination and the test (mortal ; Can we sin to be object of thy mercy ? Of law, have all his offices ripp'd up,
Wife. Yes,and have done 't already, and no stain And his corrupt soul laid open to the subjects; To your greatness, madam ; 'tis my charity, His bribes, oppressions, and close sins, that made I can remit ; when sovereign princes dare So many groan and curse him, now shall find Do injury to those that live beneath them, Their just reward ; and all that love their country They turn worth pity and their prayers, and ’tis Bless Heaven and the king's justice, for removing In the free power of those whom they oppress Such a devouring monster.
To pardon 'em ; each soul has a prerogative Father. Sir, your pardon.
And privilege royal that was sign'a by Heaven. Madam, you are the queen, she is my daughter, But though, in th' knowledge of my disposition, And he that you have character'd so monstrous Stranger to pride, and what you charge me with, My son-in-law, now gone to be arraign’d.
I can forgive the injustice done to me, The king is just, and a good man ; but 't does not And striking at my person, I have no Add to the graces of your royal person
Commission from my lord to clear you for To tread upon a lady thus dejected
The wrongs you have done him, and till he pardon By her own grief: her lord 's not yet found guilty, The wounding of his loyalty, with which life Much less condemn’d, though you have pleased to
Can hold no balance, I must talk just boldness Queen. What saucy fellow's this? [execute him. To say, Father. I must confess
Father. Nomore! Now I must tell you, daughter, I am a man out of this element,
Lest you forget yourself, she is the queen, No courtier, yet I am a gentleman,
And it becomes you not to vie with her That dare speak honest truth to the queen's ear,
Passion for passion : if your lord stand fast (A duty every subject will not pay you,)
To the full search of law, Heaven will revenge him, And justify it to all the world ; there's nothing
And give him up precious to good men's loves. Doth more eclipse the honours of our soul
If you attempt by these unruly ways Than an ill-grounded and ill-follow'd passion,
To vindicate his justice, I'm against you ; Let fly with noise and license against those
Dear as I wish your husband's life and fame, Whose hearts before are bleeding.
Subjects are bound to suffer, not contest Cons. Brave old man !
With princes, since their will and acts must be Father. 'Cause you are a queen, to trample o'er
Accounted one day to a Judge supreme. Whose tongue and faculties are all tied up ;
Wife. I ha' done. If the devotion to my lord, Strike out a lion's teeth, and pare his claws,
Or pity to his innocence, have led me And then a dwarf may pluck him by the beard— Beyond the awful limits to be observed 'Tis a gay victory.
By one so much beneath your sacred person, Queen. Did you hear, my lord ?
I thus low crave your royal pardon, madam; (Kneels. Father. I ha' done.
I know you will remember, in your goodness, Wife. And it concerns me to begin.
My life-blood is concern'd while his least vein I have not made this pause through servile fear,
Shall run black and polluted, my heart fed Or guilty apprehension of your rage,
With what keeps him alive ; nor can there be But with just wonder of the heats and wildness
A greater wound than that which strikes the life Has prepossess'd your nature'gainst our innocence.
Of our good name, so much above the bleeding