The Dramatic Works of Ben Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher

Syl. Her lust! You are her father.
Lew. And you her bawd.

Syl. Were you ten lords, 'tis false;
The pureness of her chaste thoughts enter-
Such spotted instruments.

Ang. As I have a soul, Sir

[tains not

Lew. I am not to be alter'd: To sit down With this disgrace would argue me a peasant, And not born noble: All rigour that the law, And that encrease of pow'r by favour yields, Shall be with all severity inflicted; [serve, You have the king's hand for't; no bail will And therefore at your perils, officers, away Bri. This is madness. [with 'em.

Lew. Tell me so in open court,

And there I'll answer you.

Enter Miramont, Charles, Eustace, aud Andrew.

Char. This is a most strong truth, Sir.
Mir. No, no, monsieur,

Let us be right Frenchmen; violent to charge,
But, when our follies are repell'd by reason,
'Tis fit that we retreat, and ne'er come on more.
Observe my learn'd Charles; he'll get thee a
nephew

On Angellina, shall dispute in her belly,
And suck the nurse by logick. And here's
Eustace;

He was an ass, but now is grown an Amadis;
Nor shall he want a wife, if all my land
For a jointure can effect it. You're a good
And of a gentle nature; in your looks [lord,
I see a kind consent, and it shews lovely.
And, do you hear, old fool?

Bri. Your brother, Sir. Mir. But I'll not chide; Hereafter, like me, ever dote on learning; The mere belief is excellent, 'twill save you. And next, love valour; though you dare not fight [stace Yourself, or fright a foolish officer, young EuCan do it to a hair. And to conclude, Let Andrew's farm b' increas'd, that is your penance,

You know for what; and see you rut no more,
You understand me. So, embrace on all sides.
I'll pay those billmen, and make large amends;
Provided we preserve you still our friends.
[Exeunt omnes.

THE EPILOGUE.

'Tis not the hands, or smiles, or common way
Of approbation to a well-lik'd play,
We only hope; but that you freely would,
To th' Author's memory, so far unfold,

And shew your loves and liking to his wit,
Not in your praise, but often seeing it;
That being the grand assurance, that can give
The poet and the player means to live.

not worth a cardecue.] We have made an English word of this from a corruption of the French, un quart d' écu, i. e. the fourth part of a French crown. Theobald.

THE SPANISH CURATE.

A COMEDY.

The Commendatory Verses by Gardiner and Lovelace attribute this Comedy wholly to Fietcher; but we see no more reason for assigning this Play to him exclusively, than any other published in the joint names of him and Beaumont. The folio of 1647 contains the first printed copy. The Spanish Curate was revived at Drury-Lane Theatre in 1749; but it has not been performed for many years past. Dryden (in his Spanish Fryar) and Congreve (in his Old Batchelor) are greatly indebted to the Comedy now before us; and it seems very evident, that it afforded some material hints towards framing a musical entertainment, of a modern date, called the Padlock.

THE PROLOGUE.

To tell ye, gentlemen, we have a play,
A new one too, and that 'tis launch'd to-day,
The name ye know, that's nothing to my story;
To tell ye, 'tis familiar, void of glory,
Of state, of bitterness-of wit, you'll say,
For that is now held wit that tends that way,
Which we avoid. To tell ye too, 'tis merry,
And meant to make you pleasant, and not
weary:

The streams that guide ye, easy to attend:
To tell ye, that 'tis good, is to no end,
If you believe not. Nay, to go thus far,
To swear it, if you swear against, is war.

Angelo.] This character, Mr. Theobald, with a freedom unknown to any Editors but those of Beaumont and Fletcher's Works in 1750, expunges from the drama; and yet he suf fers the name Angelo to remain to those speeches which are allotted to him in the play.

VOL. I.

2 F

Don Henrique rich, and his revenues long

since

Encreas'd by marrying with a wealthy heir,
Call'd madam Violante, he yet holds
A hard hand over 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

[lord

Of their so many jars. Though the young Be sick of th' elder brother, and in reason Should flatter and observe him; he's of a na

ture

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 despite of poverty, he would starve
Rather than ask a courtesy. He's the son
Of a poor cast captain, one Octavio;

And she, that once was call'd the fair Jacintha,

Is happy in being his mother. For his sake, [Enter Jamie, Leandro, and Ascanio.] Though in their fortunes fal'n, they are esteem'd of

[come.

And cherish'd by the best. Oh, here they
I now may spare his character; but observe
He'll justify my report.

Jam. My good Ascanio,
Repair more often to me; above women
Thou ever shalt be welcome.

[him,

Asc. My lord, your favours May quickly teach a raw untutor'd youth To be both rude and saucy.

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

The funeral black (your rich heir wears with joy,

When he pretends to weep for his dead father.] This sentiment is shadowed out from one of the select sentences of Seneca, and Publ. Syrus.

Hæredis fletus sul personâ risus est.

Which Ben Jonson has thus very closely translated, in his Fox.

Tut! forget, Sir.

The weeping of an heir should still be laughter,

Under a visor.

Theobald.

In Salamanca, I'll supply your studies
With all conveniencies.

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 [ness
Bound to your service? With what willing-
I would receive, good Sir, your noble offer,
Heav'n can bear witness for me; but, alas,
Should I embrace the means to raise my for-
tunes,

I must destroy the lives of my poor parents, To whom I owe 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 day's absence from me; [young,

And, what will hardly win belief, though I am their steward and their nurse: The bounties ['em; Which others bestow on me, serve to sustain And to forsake them in their age, in me Were more than murder.

Enter Henrique.

Ang. This is a kind of begging Would make a broker charitable. Mil. Here, sweetheart,

I wish that it were more.

Lean. When this is spent,
Seek for supply from me.
Jam. Thy piety

For ever be remeinber'd! Nay, take all,
Though 'twere my exhibition to a ryal
For one whole year.

Asc. High Heav'ns reward your goodness!
Hen. So, Sir, is this a slip of your own
You are so prodigal?
[grafting,

Jam. A slip, Sir? Hen. Yes,

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

[voke me:
Jam. You're foul-mouth'd. Do not pro-
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, [puted, That might have been born a fool, and so reBut that you had the luck to creep into The world a year before me.

Lean. Be more temperate.

Tit

Jam. I neither can nor will, unless I learn By his example. Let him use his harsh Unsavory reprehensions upon those [land That are his hinds, and not on me. The 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 virtue in him, That inay authorize him to be a censurer Of me, or of my manners, and I will Acknowledge him for a tutor; till then, [Sir? Hen. From whom have you your means, Jam. From the will

never.

Leon. 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 persuasion, nor no [whom

coward

To be beaten out of my means, but know to
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.
Jum. 'Pray thee let him alone; he's not
worth thy anger.

All that he does, Leandro, 's 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'm giv'n to large expence,
And therefore lays up for me: Could you
lieve else,

[yoke

That he, that sixteen years hath worn the
Of barren wedlock, without hope of issue,
His coffers full, his lands and vineyards fruit-
ful,

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 outlive him,
Which sure I must do, by the course of nature,
And the assistance of good mirth and sack,
However you prove melancholy.
Hen. If I live,
Thou dearly shalt repent this.

Jam. When thou'rt 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 join farm to farin;
Suffer no lordship, that in a clear day
Falls in the prospect of your covetous eye,
To be another's; forget you are a grandee;
Take use upon use, and cut the throats of heirs
With coz'ning mortgages; rack your poor

tenants,

wars.

merry,

All plagues go

[stirring?

What news is

That the next summer will determine much Of that we long have talk'd of, touching the [us discourse Leon What have we to do with them? Let Of what concerns ourselves. "Tis now in fashion,

To have your gallants set down, in a tavern, What the arch-duke's purpose is the next spring, and what

[course Defence my lords the States prepare, what The emperor 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 see to know Better than their own affairs. This is dis[young,

course

Fit for the council it concerns: We are

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-roba's; some the state

That ours observe; and I have heard one

swear,

[don A merry friend of mine, that once in LonHe did enjoy the company of a gamester, A common gamester too, that in one night Met him th' Italian, French, and Spanish [self,

ways,

And ended in the Dutch; for, to cool herShe kiss'd him drunk i' th' morning.

Jam. We may spare

The travel of our tongues in foreign 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

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The Dramatic Works of Ben Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher, Nide 2