Act 5
Act 5.
[Enter CASSIMERE, FLORES with the cup, PEASANT, and the MERCHANT.]
MERCHANT. See, signor Flores,
A peasant that I met with near your house,
Where since he found you not he asked of me
The place of your abode; and here I have brought him.
FLORES. I thank you, sir. My good Lord Cassimere,
This is the man that brought this cup to me
Which for my ransom we go now to offer
To my good lord the Duke.
CASSIMERE. What brings he now?
FLORES. That will we know. Come hither, honest friend;
What wished occasion brings thee now to me?
PEASANT. This occasion, sir; what will ye give me for it?
FLORES. Thou art a lucky fellow; let us see.
Lord Cassimere, this is the hapless jewel
That represents the form of Alberdure,
Given by Cornelia at our fatal feast.
Where hadst thou this, my good and happy friend?
PEASANT. Faith, sir, I met with the young prince all wet, who looked as if he had been a quarter of a year drowned, yet prettily come to himself, saving that he was so mad to change apparel with me; in the pocket whereof, sir, I found this jewel.
FLORES. O tell me truly, lives prince Alberdure?
PEASANT. He lives a my word, sir, but very poorly now, God help him.
CASSIMERE. Is he recovered of his lunacy?
PEASANT. I, by my faith, he’s tame enough now, I’ll warrant him.
FLORES. And where is he?
PEASANT. Nay, that I cannot tell.
CASSIMERE. Come, Flores, haste we quickly to the Court
With this most happy news.
FLORES. Come, happy friend,
The most auspicious messenger to me
That ever greeted me in peasant’s weeds. [Exeunt. Enter DOCTOR.]
MERCHANT. I would I could meet Mr. Doctor Doddie,
I have a trick to gull the ass withal;
I christened him right Doctor Doddypoll.
Here he comes passing luckily; I’ll counterfeit business with him in all post haste possible. Master Doctor, Master Doctor!
DOCTOR. Shesue, vat ayle de man?
MERCHANT. I love you, Master Doctor, and therefore with all the speed I could possibly I sought you out.
DOCTOR. Vell, vat?
MERCHANT. This, sir; the marriage which we thought made even now, between Earl Cassimere and Cornelia, was but a jest only to draw you to marry her, for she doth exceedingly dote upon you; and Flores her father hath invented that you are betrothed to her and is gone with a supplication to the Duke to enforce you to marry her.
DOCTOR. Be garr, me thought no less. O knave jeweller! O vile begger! Be my trot, Marshan, me studdie, me beat my brain, me invent, me dream upon such a ting.
MERCHANT. I know, sir, your wit would forsee it.
DOCTOR. O by garr, tree, fore, five month ago.
MERCHANT. Well, sir, y’ave a perilous wit, God bless me out of the swing of it, but you had best look to it betimes, for Earl Cassimere hath made great friends against you.
DOCTOR. Marshan, me love, me embrace, me kiss de, will, be my trot.
MERCHANT. Well, sir, make haste to prevent the worst.
DOCTOR. I fly, Marshan, spit de Earl, spit de wench, spit all bee garre. Se dis, Marshan, de brave brain be garre. [Exit.]
MERCHANT. De brave brain by garre, not a whit of the flower of wit in it. I’ll to the Court after him, and see how he abuses the Duke’s patience. [Exit.]
SCENE 2.
[Enter ALPHONSO, HARDENBERGH, LASSINGBERGH, LEANDER, STRO. [sic], HOSCHERMAN, MOTTO, and RAPHE.]
ALPHONSO. Aye me! What hard extremity is this? Nor quick nor dead can I behold my son. [Enter HANS in the Prince’s apparel.]
HANS. Behold your son; your blessing, noble father.
HARDENBERGH. Malipart knave, art thou the Prince’s son?
HANS. I, sir, apparel makes the man.
ALPHONSO. Unhappy man, would God I had my son,
So he had his Hyanthe or my life.
LEANDER. Should he enjoy Hyanthe then, my lord?
Would you forsake your love, so he did live?
ALPHONSO. My love and life, did my dear son survive.
LEANDER. But were he found or should he live, my lord,
Although Hyanthe’s love were the chief cause
Of his mishap and amorous lunacy,
I hope your highness loves him over well
To let him repossess his wits with her.
ALPHONSO. My love is dead in sorrow for his death;
His life and wits should ransom worlds from me.
LEANDER. My Lord, I had a vision this last night
Wherein me thought I saw the prince your son
Sit in my father’s garden with Hyanthe
Under the shadow of the laurel tree.
With anger, therefore, you should be so wronged
I waked, but then condemned it as a dream;
Yet since my mind beats on it mightily,
And though I think it vain, if you vouchsafe,
I’ll make a trial of the truth hereof. [Exit.]
ALPHONSO. Do, good Leander. Hardenbergh, your son
Perhaps deludes me with a vision
To mock my vision that deferred the Duchess,
And with Hyanthe closely keeps my son.
HARDENBERGH. Your son was mad and drowned: this cannot be.
ALPHONSO. But yet this circumventing speech of his
Offered suspicion of such event.
STRO. My lord, most fortunate were that event
That would restore your son from death to life.
HARDENBERGH. As though a vision should do such a deed!
ALPHONSO. No, no, the boy’s young brain was humorous:
His servant and his page did see him drowned. [Enter LEANDER, ALBERDURE, HYANTHE; ALBERDURE seeming fearful to come forward.]
LEANDER. Come on, sweet friend; I warrant thee thy love;
Shun not thy father’s sight that longs for thee.
ALBERDURE. Go then before, and we will follow straight.
LEANDER. Comfort, my lord, my vision proved most true:
Even in the place, under the laurel shade,
I found them sitting just as I beheld them
In my late vision; see, sir, where they come.
ALPHONSO. Am I enchanted, or see I my son?
Ay, ay, the boy hath played the traitor with me.
O, you young villain, trust you with my love!
How smooth the cunning treacher looked on it;
HARDENBERGH. But, sirrah, can this be?
LEANDER. You knew him to be mad, these thought him drowned.
My Lord, take you no more delight to see
Your son recovered of his life and wits?
ALPHONSO. See, see, how boldly the young politician
Can urge his practice. Sirrah, you shall know
I’ll not be over-reached with your young brain.
All have agreed, I see, to cozen me,
But all shall fail. Come, lady, I will have
You spite of all, and, son, learn you hereafter
To use more reverent means to obtain
Of me what you desire. I have no joy
To see thee raised from a deluding death.
HYANTHE. My lord, ‘tis tyranny t’enforce my love.
LEANDER. I hope your Highness will maintain your word.
ALPHONSO. Dost thou speak, traitor? Straight I’ll have you safe
For daring to delude me in my love.
ALBERDURE. O friend, thou hast betrayed my love in vain:
Now am I worse then either mad or drowned,
Now have I only wits to know my griefs
And life to feel them.
HYANTHE. Let me go to him.
ALPHONSO. Thou shalt not have thy will nor he his love;
Neither of both know what is fit for you.
I love with judgment and upon cold blood,
He with youth’s fury, without reasons stay;
And this shall time and my kind usage of thee
Make thee discern; meantime consider this,
That I neglect for thee a beauteous Duchess
Who next to thee is fairest in the world. [Enter MESSENGER.]
MESSENGER. My Lord, the Duke of Brunswick and his sister,
The beauteous Duchesse, are arrived here.
ALPHONSO. What’s that; the Duchess?
MESSENGER. Even her grace, my Lord.
ALPHONSO. Why, Hardenbergh, ha! Is the Duchess come?
HARDENBERGH. I know not, my good Lord. Where is the Duchess?
MESSENGER. Hard by, my Lord.
ALPHONSO. Souns, I am not here; go tell her so:
Or let her come, my choice is free in love.
Come, my Hyanthe, stand thou close to me.
MESSENGER. My Lord, the Duke himself has come to urge
Your promise to him, which you must not break.
HOSCHERMAN. Nor will you wish to break it, good my lord,
I am assured, when you shall see the Duchess,
Whose matchless beauties will renew the mind
Of her rare entertainment, and her presence
Put all new thoughts of love out of your mind.
ALPHONSO. Well, I do see ‘tis best, my sweet Hyanthe,
That thou stand further.
HYANTHE. I’ll be gone, my lord.
ALPHONSO. Not gone, but mix thy self among the rest.
What a spite is this! Counsel me, Hardenbergh.
HARDENBERGH. The Duchess comes, my Lord.
ALPHONSO. Out of my life, how shall I look on her? [Enter CONSTANTINE, KATHERINE, LASSENBERG, LUCILIA, CASSIMERE, CORNELIA, ITE. A Song: after, the Duchesse speaks.]
KATHERINE. How now, my lord? You look as one dismay’d;
Have any visions troubled you of late?
ALPHONSO. Your grace and your most princely brother here
Are highly welcome to the Saxon Court.
KATHERINE. O you dissemble, sir, nor are we come
In hope of welcome, but with this poor head-piece
To bear the brunt of all discourtesies.
CONSTANTINE. My Lord, we come not now to urge the marriage,
You sought with such hot suit, of my fair sister,
But to resolve ourselves and all the world
Why you retained such mean concept of us
To slight so solemn and so high a contract
With vain pretext of visions or of dreams.
ALPHONSO. My Lord, I here protest by earth and heaven
I hold your state right highly and renowned
And your fair sister’s beauties and deserts
To be most worthy the greatest king alive;
Only an ominous vision troubled me
And hindered the wished speed I would have made
(Not to dissolve it, though it were deferred,)
By such portents as, lest you think I fain,
Lord Hardenbergh can witness is most true.
HARDENBERGH. Most true, my lord, and most prodigious.
ALPHONSO. Yet I’ll contemn them with my life and all
Ere I’ll offend your grace or breed suspect
Of my firm faith in my most honoured love.
KATHERINE. No, no, my lord: this is your vision
That hath not frighted but enamoured you.
ALPHONSO. O Madame, think you so? By heaven I swear
She’s my son’s love. — Sirrah, take her to you.
Have I had all this care to do her grace,
To prove her virtues and her love to thee,
And standst thou fearful now? Take her, I say.
LEANDER. My lord, he fears you will be angry with him.
ALPHONSO. You play the villain: wherefore should he fear?
I only proved her virtues for his sake,
And now you talk of anger. Aye me, wretch,
That ever I should live to be thus shamed!
ALBERDURE. Madame, I swear the lady is my love;
Therefore your highness cannot charge my father
With any wrong to your high worth in her.
CONSTANTINE. Sister, you see we utterly mistake
The kind and princely dealing of the Duke:
Therefore without more ceremonious doubts
Lets reconfirm the contract and his love.
KATHERINE. I warrant you, my lord, the Duke dissembles.
ALPHONSO. Here on my knees, at the altar of those feet,
I offer up in pure and sacred breath
The true speech of my heart, and heart itself.
Require no more if thou be princely borne
And not of rocks or ruthless tigers bred.
KATHERINE. My Lord, I kindly cry you mercy now,
Ashamed that you should injury your estate
To kneel to me; and vow before these lords
To make you all amends you can desire.
FLORES. Madame, in admiration of your grace
And princely wisdom, and to gratify
The long wished joy done to my lord the Duke,
I here present your highness with this cup,
Wrought admirably by th’ art of spirits,
Of substance fair, more rich than earthly gems,
Whose value no man’s judgment can esteem.
ALPHONSO. Flores, I’ll interrupt the Duchess thanks
And for the present thou hast given to her
To strengthen her consent to my desires,
I recompense thee with a free release
Of all offences twixt thy self and me.
FLORES. I humbly thank your excellence.
KATHERINE. But where is now unkind Earl Lassingbergh,
That injures his fair love and makes her wear
This worthless garland? Come, sir, make amends,
Or we will here award you worthy penance.
LASSINGBERGH. Madame, since her departure I have done
More hearty penance then her heart could wish,
And vow hereafter to live ever hers.
KATHERINE. Then let us cast aside these forlorn wreaths,
And with our better fortunes change our habits. [Enter DOCTOR in poste, the MERCHANT following him.]
DOCTOR. O stay, my Lorte, me pray you on knee von stay.
ALPHONSO. What’s the matter, Doctor?
DOCTOR. O me bret be garr for haste.
CONSTANTINE. What ails the hasty Doctor?
DOCTOR. My Lort be garr he lies falsely in his troate; Me prove by the duel dat he be the false knave.
ALPHONSO. Who is it, man, with whom thou art so bold?
DOCTOR. My Lorte, if me make my contrack of marriage, if me be not as loose as de vide world, if me do not alleadge —
ALPHONSO. I pray thee, man, what meanest thou?
DOCTOR. Be garr, enform your grace vot he dare I will prove by good argument and raison dat he is de falce beggarly jeweller, dat I no point marry Cornelia. Vat say you now?
CASSIMERE. My lord, no doubt some man hath guiled the Doctor,
Supposing he should be enforced to wed her
That is my wife and ever scorned him.
DOCTOR. Vat you say? De Marshan tell a me I marry Cornelia spit my nose.
ALPHONSO. The Merchant I perceive hath trimmed you, Doctor
And combed you smoothly. Faith, I can him thank
That thus revives our meeting with such mirth.
DOCTOR. O be bright de heaven, est a possible! And by heaven I be revenge dat vile Marshan, me make de medecine dry up de sea, seaven towsand, towsand million d’atlloe, fife hundred, hundred dram fuffian, marquerite, balestiae, hematete, cortemedian, churchacholl, pantasite, petrofidem, hynape, and by garr de hot pepre; me make de vinde, de grease collicke puffe, blowe by garr, teare de sayle, beate de maste, cracke de ship in towsand towsand peeces! [Exit.]
ALPHONSO. Farewell, gentle Doctor Doddypoll.
And now, dear lady, let us celebrate
Our happy royal nuptials, and my son’s
With this our sweet and general amity
Which heaven smile on with his golden eye.
[Finis Actus Quinti & ultimi.]
