A chamber in the palace of the Duke of Ferrara
Enter the old Duke of Ferrara, nobles, Proditor, Lussurioso, and Infesto, with attendants.
DUKE
My lords,
Know that we, far from any natural pride,
Or touch of temporal sway, have seen our face
In our grave council’s foreheads, where doth stand
Our truest glass, made by time’s wrinkled hand.
We know we’re old; my days proclaim me so.
Forty-five years I’ve gently ruled this dukedom;
Pray heaven it be no fault,
For there’s as much disease, though not to th’ eye,
In too much pity as in tyranny.
INFESTO
Your grace hath spoke it right.
DUKE
I know that life
Has not long course in me; ‘twill not be long
Before I show that kings have mortal bodies
As well as subjects. Therefore, to my comfort,
And your successful hopes, I have a son
Whom I dare boast of —
LUSSURIOSO
Whom we all do boast of;
A prince elder in virtues than in years.
INFESTO
His judgment is a father to his youth.
PRODITOR
[Aside] Ay, ay, would he were from court!
INFESTO
Our largest hopes grow in him.
PRODITOR
And ’tis the greatest pity, noble lord,
He is untraveled.
LUSSURIOSO
’Tis Indeed, my lord.
PRODITOR
Had he but travel to his time and virtue —
[Aside] Oh, he should ne’er return again!
DUKE
It shall be so: what is in hope begun
Experience quickens; travel confirms the man,
[Who] else lives doubtful, and his days oft sorry;
Who’s rich in knowledge has the stock of glory.
PRODITOR
Most true, my royal lord.
DUKE
Someone attend our son.
Enter Prince [Phoenix], attended by Fidelio
INFESTO
See, here he comes, my lord.
DUKE
Oh, you come well.
PHOENIX
’Tis always my desire, my worthy father.
DUKE
Your serious studies, and those fruitful hours
That grow up into judgment, well become
Your birth, and all our loves; I weep that you are my son,
But virtuously I weep, the more my gladness.
We have thought good and meet by the consent
Of these our nobles, to move you toward travel,
The better to approve you to yourself,
And give your apter power foundation:
To see affections actually presented,
E’en by those men that owe them, yield[s] more profit,
Ay, more content, than singly to read of them,
Since love or fear make writers partial.
The good and free example which you find
In other countries, match it with your own,
The ill to shame the ill, which will in time
Fully instruct you how to set in frame
A kingdom all in pieces.
PHOENIX
Honour’d father,
With care and duty I have listened to you.
What you desire, in me it is obedience:
I do obey in all, knowing for right,
Experience is a kingdom’s better sight.
PRODITOR
Oh, ’tis the very luster of a prince.
Travel! ’Tis sweet and generous.
DUKE
He that knows how to obey, knows how to reign;
And that true knowledge have we found in you.
Make choice of your attendants.
PHOENIX
They’re soon chose;
Only this man, my lord, a loving servant of mine.
DUKE
What, none but he?
PHOENIX
I do entreat no more;
For that’s the benefit a private gentleman
Enjoys beyond our state, when he notes all,
Himself unnoted.
For, should I bear the fashion of a prince,
I should then win more flattery than profit;
And I should give ‘em time and warning then
To hide their actions from me: if I appear a sun,
They’ll run into the shade with their ill deeds,
And so prevent me.
PRODITOR
[Aside] A little too wise, a little too wise to live long.
DUKE
You have answered us with wisdom: let it be.
Things private are best known through privacy.
Exeunt. Manet Phoenix and Fidelio.
PHOENIX
Stay you, my elected servant.
FIDELIO
My kind lord.
PHOENIX
The duke my father has a heavy burden
Of years upon him.
FIDELIO
My lord, it seems so, for they make him stoop.
PHOENIX
Without dissemblance he is deep in age;
He bows unto his grave. I wonder much
Which of his wild nobility it should be —
For none of his sad council has a voice in’t —
Should so far travel into his consent
To set me over into other kingdoms
Upon the stroke and minute of his death?
FIDELIO
My lord, ’tis easier to suspect them all,
Than truly to name one.
PHOENIX
Since it is thus,
By absence I’ll obey the duke my father
And yet not wrong myself.
FIDELIO
Therein, my lord,
You might be happy twice.
PHOENIX
So it shall be;
I’ll stay at home and travel.
FIDELIO
Would your grace
Could make that good!
PHOENIX
I can. And indeed a prince need no[t] travel farther than his own kingdom, if he apply himself faithfully, worthy the glory of himself and expectation of others. And it would appear far nobler industry in him to reform those fashions that are already in his country than to bring new ones in which have neither true form nor fashion; to make his court an owl, city an ape, and the country a wolf preying upon the ridiculous pride of either. And therefore I hold it a safer stern upon this lucky advantage, since my father is near his setting, and I upon the eastern hill to take my rise, to look into the heart and bowels of this dukedom, and in disguise mark all abuses ready for reformation or punishment.
FIDELIO
Give me but leave unfeignedly to admire you,
Your wisdom is so spacious and so honest.
PHOENIX
So much have the complaints and suits of men seven, nay, seventeen years neglected, still interposed by coin and great enemies, prevailed with my pity that I cannot otherwise think but there are infectious dealings to most offices, and foul mysteries throughout all professions. And therefore I nothing doubt but to find travel enough within myself, and experience, I fear, too much. Nor will I be curious to fit my body to the humblest form and bearing, so the labour may be fruitful: for how can abuses that keep low come to the right view of a prince unless his looks lie level with them, which else will be longest hid from him, he shall be the last man sees ‘em.
For oft between king’s eyes and subjects’ crimes
Stands there a bar of bribes; the under office
Flatters him next above it, he the next,
And so of most, or many.
Every abuse will choose a brother:
’Tis through the world, this hand will rub the other.
FIDELIO
You have set down the world briefly, my lord.
PHOENIX
But how am I assur’d of faith in thee?
Yet I durst trust thee.
FIDELIO
Let my soul be lost
When it shall loose your secrets. Nor will I
Only be a preserver of them, but,
If you so please, an assister.
PHOENIX
It suffices.
That king stands sur’st who by his virtues rises
More than by birth or blood; that prince is rare
Who strives in youth to save his age from care.
Let’s be prepar’d. Away!
FIDELIO
I’ll follow your grace.
Exit Phoenix.
Thou wonder of all princes, president, and glory,
True phoenix, made of an unusual strain!
Who labours to reform is fit to reign.
How can that king be safe that studies not
The profit of his people? See where comes
The best part of my heart, my love.
Enter Niece.
NIECE
Sir, I am bound to find you; I heard newly
Of sudden travel which his grace intends,
And only but yourself to accompany him.
FIDELIO
You heard in that little beside the truth;
Yet not so sudden as to want those manners
To leave you unregarded.
NIECE
I did not think so unfashionably of you.
How long is your return?
FIDELIO
’Tis not yet come to me, scarce to my lord,
Unless the duke refer it to his pleasure;
But long I think it is not: the duke’s age,
If not his apt experience, will forbid it.
NIECE
His grace commands, I must not think amiss.
Farewell.
FIDELIO
Nay, stay, and take this comfort:
You shall hear often from us, I’ll direct
Where you shall surely know; and I desire you
Write me the truth, how my new father-in-law
The captain bears himself toward my mother;
For that marriage knew nothing of my mind,
It never flourish’d in any part of my affection.
NIECE
Methinks she’s much disgrac’d herself.
FIDELIO
Nothing so,
If he be good, and will abide the touch;
A captain may marry a lady, if he can sail
Into her good will.
NIECE
Indeed, that’s all.
FIDELIO
’Tis all
In all. Commend me to thy breast; farewell.
Exit Niece.
So by my lord’s firm policy we may see,
To present view, what absent forms would be.