A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Viii Part 95

[_She falleth into a swoon_.

MOR. Do not my eyes deceive me? liveth my son?

LACY. My lord and father, both alive and well, Recover'd of my weakness. Where's my wife?

MAR. Here is my lady, your beloved wife, Half dead to hear of your untimely end.

LACY. Look on me, Honorea; see thy lord: I am not dead, but live to love thee still.

DUN. 'Tis G.o.d disposeth all things, as he will: He raiseth those the wicked wish to fall.

CLIN. 'Zounds, I still watch on this enclosed ground; For if he rise again, I'll murder him.

HON. My lord, my tongue's not able to report Those joys my heart conceives to see thee live.

DUN. Give G.o.d the glory: he recovered thee, And wrought this judgment on that cursed man, That set debate and strife among ye all.

MOR. My lord, our eyes have seen a miracle, Which after ages ever shall admire.

The Spanish doctor, standing here before us, Is sunk into the bowels of the earth, Ending his vile life by a viler death.

LACY. But, gentle Marian, I bewail thy loss, That wert maid, wife, and widow, all so soon.

MAR. 'Tis your recovery that joys me more, Than grief can touch me for the doctor's death.

He never lov'd me whilst he liv'd with me, Therefore the less I mourn his tragedy.

MOR. Henceforth we'll strictlier look to strangers' lives, How they shall marry any English wives.

Now all men shall record this fatal day; Lacy revived, the doctor sunk in clay.

[_The trumpets sound, exeunt omnes nisi_ DUNSTAN.

DUN. Now is Earl Lacy's house fill'd full of joy, He and his lady wholly reconcil'd, Their jars all ended: those, that were like men Transformed, turn'd unto their shapes again.

And, gentlemen, before we make an end, A little longer yet your patience lend, That in your friendly censures you may see What the infernal synod do decree; And after judge, if we deserve to name This play of ours, _The devil and his dame_.

[_Exit_.

_It thunders and lightneth. Enter_ PLUTO, MINOS, AEACUS, RHADAMANTHUS, _with Fury bringing in_ MALBECCO'S _Ghost_.

PLU. Minos, is this the day he should return, And bring us tidings of his twelvemonth spent!

_Enter_ BELPHEGOR, _like a devil, with horns on his head, and_ AKERc.o.c.k.

MIN. It is, great king, and here Belphegor comes.

PLU. His visage is more ghastly than 'twas wont.

What ornaments are those upon his head?

BEL. h.e.l.l, I salute thee! now I feel myself Rid of a thousand torments. O vile earth, Worse for us devils than h.e.l.l itself for men!

Dread Pluto, hear thy subject's just complaint [BELPHEGOR _kneeleth to_ PLUTO.

Proceeding from the anguish of my soul.

O, never send me more into the earth!

For there dwells dread and horror more than here.

PLU. Stand forth, Belphegor, and report the truth Of all things have betide thee in the world.

BEL. When first, great king, I came into the earth, I chose a wife both young and beautiful, The only daughter to a n.o.ble earl; But when the night came that I should her bed, I found another laid there in her stead: And in the morning when I found the change, Though I denied her, I was forc'd to take her.

With her I liv'd in such a mild estate, Us'd her still kindly, lov'd her tenderly; Which she requited with such light regard, So loose demeanour, and dishonest life, That she was each man's wh.o.r.e, that was my wife.

No hours but gallants flock'd unto my house, Such as she fancied for her loathsome l.u.s.t, With whom, before my face, she did not spare To play the strumpet. Yea, and more than this, She made my house a stew for all resorts, Herself a bawd to others' filthiness: Which, if I once began but to reprove, O, then, her tongue was worse than all the rest!

No ears with patience would endure to hear her, Nor would she ever cease, till I submit[ted]: And then she'd speak me fair, but wish me dead.

A hundred drifts she laid to cut me off, Still drawing me to dangers of my life.

And now, my twelvemonth being near expir'd, She poison'd me; and least that means should fail, She entic'd a captain to've murdered me.

In brief, whatever tongue can tell of ill, All that may well be spoken of my dame.

AKER. Poor Akerc.o.c.k was fain to fly her sight, For never an hour but she laid on me; Her tongue and fist walked all so nimbly.

PLU. Doth then, Belphegor, this report of thine Against all women hold in general?

BEL. Not so, great prince: for, as 'mongst other creatures, Under that s.e.x are mingled good and bad.

There are some women virtuous, chaste, and true; And to all those the devil will give their due.

But, O, my dame, born for a scourge[482] to man!

For no mortality [I] would endure that, Which she a thousand times hath offered me.

PLU. But what new shapes are those upon thy head?

BEL. These are the ancient arms of cuckoldry, And these my dame hath kindly left to me; For which Belphegor shall be here derided, Unless your great infernal majesty Do solemnly proclaim, no devil shall scorn Hereafter still to wear the goodly horn.

PLU. This for thy service I will grant thee freely: All devils shall, as thou dost, like horns wear, And none shall scorn Belphegor's arms to bear.

And now, Malbecco, hear thy latest doom.

Since that thy first reports are justified By after-proofs, and women's looseness known, One plague more will I send upon the earth!

Thou shalt a.s.sume a light and fiery shape, And so for ever live within the world; Dive into women's thoughts, into men's hearts; Raise up false rumours and suspicious fears; Put strange inventions into each man's mind; And for these actions they shall always call thee By no name else but fearful Jealousy.

Go, Jealousy, begone; thou hast thy charge; Go, range about the world that is so large.

And now, for joy Belphegor is return'd, The furies shall their tortures cast away, And all h.e.l.l o'er we'll make it holiday.

[_It thundereth and lightneth. Exeunt omnes_.

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Cooper's "Athenae Cantabrig," ii. 306.

[2] Nash seems to have boasted of his birth earlier than the date of his "Lenten Stuff," for G. Harvey, in his "Four Letters," &c., 1592, says: "I have enquired what speciall cause the pennyless gentleman hath to brag of his birth, which giveth the woeful poverty good leave, even with his Stentor's voice, and in his rattling terms, to revive the pitiful history of Lazarillo de Thormes."

[3] Not of Hertfordshire, a mistake originally made by Shiel in his "Lives of the Poets," thence copied into Berkenhout's "Biographia Literaria," and subsequently into the last edition of the "Biographia Dramatica." [It is copied also by the editor of a reprint of Nash and Marlowe's "Dido," 1825.]

[4] Sig. Q 4.