The court
Enter Tyrant with attendants.
TYRANT
In vain my spirit wrestles with my blood;
Affection will be mistress here on earth.
The house is hers; the soul is but a tenant.
I ha’ tasked myself but with the abstinence
Of one poor hour, yet cannot conquer that;
I cannot keep from sight of her so long:
I starve mine eye too much. Go, bring her forth,
As we have caused her body to be decked
In all the glorious riches of our palace.
[Exit an attendant.]
Our mind has felt a famine for the time;
All comfort has been dear and scarce with us.
The times are altered since. Strike on, sweet harmony!
Music.
A braver world comes toward us.
Enter [First and Second] Soldiers with the Lady. They bring the body in a chair, dressed up in black velvet which sets out the paleness of the hands and face, and a fair chain of pearl ‘cross her breast, and the crucifix above it. He stands silent awhile, letting the music play, beckoning the Soldiers that bring her in to make obeisance to her, and he himself makes a low honour to the body and kisses the hand. A song within, in voices.
Song.
Oh, what is beauty, that’s so much adored?
A flatt’ring glass that cozens her beholders.
One night of death makes it look pale and horrid;
The dainty preserved flesh, how soon it moulders.
To love it living it bewitcheth many,
But after life is seldom heard of any.
FIRST SOLDIER
[Aside] By this hand, mere idolatry. I make curtsy
To my damnation. I have learned so much,
Though I could never know the meaning yet
Of all my Latin prayers, nor ne’er sought for’t.
TYRANT
How pleasing art thou to us even in death!
I love thee yet, above all women living,
And shall do sev’n year hence.
I can see nothing to be mended in thee
But the too constant paleness of thy cheek.
I’d give the kingdom but to purchase there
The breadth of a red rose, in natural colour,
And think it the best bargain
That ever king made yet; but fate’s my hindrance,
And I must only rest content with art,
And that I’ll have in spite on’t! Is he come, sir?
SECOND SOLDIER
Who, my lord?
TYRANT
Dull! The fellow that we sent
For a court schoolmaster, a picture-drawer,
A ladies’ forenoon tutor. Is he come, sir?
FIRST SOLDIER
Not yet returned, my lord.
TYRANT
The fool belike
Makes his choice carefully, for so we charged him,
To fit our close deeds with some private hand.
It is no shame for thee, most silent mistress,
To stand in need of art,
When youth and all thy warm friends has forsook thee.
Women alive are glad to seek her friendship
To make up the fair number of their graces,
Or else the reck’ning would fall short sometimes,
And servants would look out for better wages.
Enter Third Soldier with Govianus [disguised].
SECOND SOLIDER
He’s come, my lord.
TYRANT
Depart, then.
[Exeunt First and Second Soldiers and attendants. Manet Third Soldier.]
Is that he?
THIRD SOLDIER
The privat’st I could get, my lord.
GOVIANUS
[Aside] Oh, heav’n, marry patience to my spirit!
Give me a sober fury, I beseech thee,
A rage that may not overcharge my blood
And do myself most hurt! [To the Lady] ’Tis strange to me
To see thee here at court, and gone from hence.
Didst thou make haste to leave the world for this?
And kept in the worst corner!
Oh, who dares play with destiny but he
That wears security so thick upon him
The thought of death and hell cannot pierce through!
TYRANT
[To Third Soldier] ’Twas circumspectly carried. Leave us; go.
[Exit Third Soldier.]
Be nearer, sir. Thou’rt much commended to us.
GOVIANUS
It is the hand, my lord, commends the workman.
TYRANT
Thou speak’st both modesty and truth in that.
We need that art that thou art master of.
GOVIANUS
My king is master both of that and me.
TYRANT
Look on yon face and tell me what it wants.
GOVIANUS
Which, that, sir?
TYRANT
That! What wants it?
GOVIANUS
Troth, my lord,
Some thousand years’ sleep and a marble pillow.
TYRANT
What’s that? [Aside] Observe it still: all the best arts
Hath the most fools and drunkards to their masters. —
Thy apprehension has too gross a film
To be employed at court. What colour wants she?
GOVIANUS
By my troth, all, sir. I see none she has,
Nor none she cares for.
TYRANT
[Aside] I am overmatched here.
GOVIANUS
A lower chamber with less noise were kindlier
For her, poor woman, whatsoe’er she was.
TYRANT
But how if we be pleased to have it thus,
And thou well hired to do what we command?
Is not your work for money?
GOVIANUS
Yes, my lord.
I would not trust at court and I could choose.
TYRANT
Let but thy art hide death upon her face,
That now looks fearfully on us, and but strive
To give our eye delight in that pale part
Which draws so many pities from these springs,
And thy reward for’t shall outlast thy end,
And reach to thy friend’s fortunes, and his friend.
GOVIANUS
Say you so, my lord? I’ll work out my heart, then,
But I’ll show art enough.
TYRANT
About it, then.
I never wished so seriously for health
After long sickness.
GOVIANUS
[Aside] A religious trembling shakes me by the hand
And bids me put by such unhallowed business,
But revenge calls for’t, and it must go forward.
’Tis time the spirit of my love took rest;
Poor soul, ’tis weary, much abused and toiled.
[He paints her face and secretly applies poison to her lips.]
TYRANT
Could I now send for one to renew heat
Within her bosom, that were a fine workman!
I should but too much love him. But alas,
’Tis as unpossible for living fire
To take hold there,
As for dead ashes to burn back again
Into those hard, tough bodies whence they fell.
Life is removed from her now, as the warmth
Of the bright sun from us when it makes winter
And kills with unkind coldness. So is’t yonder;
An everlasting frost hangs now upon her.
And as in such a season men will force
A heat into their bloods with exercise,
In spite of extreme weather, so shall we
By art force beauty on yon lady’s face
Though death sit frowning on’t a storm of hail
To beat it off. Our pleasure shall prevail.
GOVIANUS
My lord.
TYRANT
Hast done so soon?
GOVIANUS
That’s as your grace
Gives approbation.
TYRANT
Oh, she lives again!
She’ll presently speak to me. Keep her up;
I’ll have her swoon no more: there’s treachery in’t.
Does she not feel warm to thee?
GOVIANUS
Very little, sir.
TYRANT
The heat wants cherishing, then. Our arms and lips
Shall labour life into her. Wake, sweet mistress!
’Tis I that call thee at the door of life. [Kisses her.] Ha!
I talk so long to death, I’m sick myself.
Methinks an evil scent still follows me.
GOVIANUS
Maybe ’tis nothing but the colour, sir,
That I laid on.
TYRANT
Is that so strong?
GOVIANUS
Yes, faith, sir,
’Twas the best poison I could get for money.
[Removes his disguise.]
TYRANT
Govianus!
GOVIANUS
Oh, thou sacrilegious villain!
Thou thief of rest, robber of monuments!
Cannot the body after funeral
Sleep in the grave for thee? Must it be raised
Only to please the wickedness of thine eye?
Does all things end with death and not thy lust?
Hast thou devised a new way to damnation,
More dreadful than the soul of any sin
Did ever pass yet between earth and hell?
Dost strive to be particularly plagued
Above all ghosts beside? Is thy pride such
Thou scorn’st a partner in thy torments too?
TYRANT
What fury gave thee boldness to attempt
This deed, for which I’ll doom thee with a death
Beyond the Frenchman’s tortures?
GOVIANUS
I smile at thee.
Draw all the death that ever mankind suffered
Unto one head to help thine own invention,
And make my end as rare as this thy sin
And full as fearful to the eyes of women,
My spirit shall fly singing to his lodging
In midst of that rough weather. Doom me, tyrant.
Had I feared death, I’d never appeared noble
To seal this act upon me, which e’en honours me
Unto my mistress’ spirit: it loves me for’t.
I told my heart ’twould prove destruction to’t,
Who, hearing ’twas for her, charged me to do’t.
TYRANT
Thy glories shall be shortened! Who’s within there?
Enter the ghost [of the Lady] in the same form as the [body of the] Lady is dress’d in the chair.
I called not thee, thou enemy to firmness,
Mortality’s earthquake!
GOVIANUS
Welcome to mine eyes
As is the dayspring from the morning’s womb
Unto that wretch whose nights are tedious
As liberty to captives, health to labourers,
And life still to old people, never weary on’t,
So welcome art thou to me! The deed’s done,
Thou queen of spirits; he has his end upon him.
Thy body shall return to rise again,
For thy abuser falls, and has no pow’r
To vex thee farther now.
[LADY]
My truest love,
Live ever honoured here and blessed above.
[Exit.]
TYRANT
Oh, if there be a hell for flesh and spirit,
’Tis built within this bosom!
Enter Nobles [including Memphonius].
My lords, treason!
GOVIANUS
Now, death, I’m for thee. Welcome!
TYRANT
Your king’s poisoned!
MEMPHONIUS
The king of heav’n be praised for’t!
TYRANT
Lay hold on him,
On Govianus!
MEMPHONIUS
E’en with the best loves
And truest hearts that ever subjects owed.
TYRANT
How’s that? I charge you both, lay hands on him!
MEMPHONIUS
Look you, my lord, your will shall be obeyed.
Enter Helvetius.
Here comes another; we’ll have his hand too.
HELVETIUS
You shall have both mine, if that work go forward,
Beside my voice and knee.
TYRANT
Helvetius!
Then my destruction was confirmed amongst ‘em;
Premeditation wrought it! Oh, my torments!
ALL [NOBLES]
Live Govianus long our virtuous king!
Flourish.
TYRANT
That thunder strikes me dead.
[Dies.]
GOVIANUS
I cannot better
Reward my joys than with astonished silence,
For all the wealth of words is not of power
To make up thanks for you, my honoured lords!
I’m like a man plucked up from many waters,
That never looked for help, and am here placed
Upon this cheerful mountain where prosperity
Shoots forth her richest beam.
MEMPHONIUS
Long-injured lord,
The tyranny of his actions grew so weighty,
His life so vicious —
HELVETIUS
To which this is witness —
Monster in sin! — this, the disquieted body
Of my too resolute child in honour’s war —
MEMPHONIUS
That he become as hateful to our minds —
HELVETIUS
As death’s unwelcome to a house of riches,
Or what can more express it.
GOVIANUS
Well, he’s gone,
And all the kingdom’s evils perish with him.
And since the body of that virtuous lady
Is taken from her rest, in memory
Of her admired mistress, ’tis our will
It receive honour dead, as it took part
With us in all afflictions when it lived.
Here place her in this throne; crown her our queen,
The first and last that ever we make ours,
Her constancy strikes so much firmness in us.
That honour done, let her be solemnly borne
Unto the house of peace from whence she came
As queen of silence.
The spirit [of the Lady] enters again and stays to go out with the body, as it were attending it.
Oh, welcome, blessed spirit!
Thou need’st not mistrust me; I have a care
As jealous as thine own. We’ll see it done
And not believe report. Our zeal is such
We cannot reverence chastity too much.
Lead on!
I would those ladies that fill honour’s rooms
Might all be borne so honest to their tombs.
Recorders or other solemn music plays them out.
FINIS