Enter ROMONT and PONTALIER. Pont. I was bound to seek you, sir. Rom. And, had you found me
That women, when they're pleased, cannot hold, In any place but in the street, I should But must laugh out.
Re-enter CHARALOIS, with his sword drawn, pursuing NOVALL jun. BEAUMELLE, and
Nov. jun. Help! save me! murder! murder! Beaumel. Undone, undone for ever! Char. Oh, my heart!
Hold yet a little-do not hope to 'scape By flight, it is impossible. Though I might On all advantage take thy life, and justly, This sword, my father's sword, that ne'er was drawn
But to a noble purpose, shall not now Do the office of a hangman. I reserve it To right mine honour, not for a revenge So poor, that though with thee it should cut off Thy family, with all that are allied
To thee in lust or baseness, 'twere still short of All terms of satisfaction. Draw!
Char. Keep from me! Guard thy life, Or, as thou hast lived like a goat, thou shalt Die like a sheep.
Nov. jun. Since there is no remedy, Despair of safety now in me prove courage! [They fight. NoVALL is slain. Char. How soon weak wrong's o'erthrown! Lend me your hand;
Bear this to the caroch-Come, you have taught me To say, you must and shall:
[Exeunt BEAUMONT and BELLAPERT, with the body of NoVALL; followed by BEAUMELLE. I wrong you not,
You are but to keep him company you love.
Have done, not talked to you. Are you the capta in,
The hopeful Pontalier, whom I have seen Do in the field such service, as then made you Their envy that commanded, here at home To play the parasite to a gilded knave, And, it may be, the pander?
I come to call you to account for what Is past already. I, by your example Of thankfulness to the dead general, By whom you were raised, have practised to be se To my good lord Novall, by whom I live; Whose least disgrace, that is or may be offered, With all the hazard of my life and fortunes, I will make good on you, or any man That has a hand in't: and, since you allow me A gentleman and a soldier, there's no doubt You will except against me. You shall meet With a fair enemy: you understand The right I look for, and must have?
But what may stand with honour. Pray you, [Exit BEAUMONT. To my own thoughts. If this be to me, rise: [BEAUMEL. kneels.
I am not worth the looking on, but only To feed contempt and scorn; and that from you, Who with the loss of your fair name have caused it, Were too much cruelty.
Beaumel. I dare not move you
To hear me speak. I know my fault is far Beyond qualification or excuse;
That 'tis not fit for me to hope, or you To think of mercy; only I presume
To entreat you would be pleased to look upon
Is't done? 'tis well. Raise officers, and take care, My sorrow for it, and believe these tears
Are the true children of my grief,
And not a woman's cunning.
Char. Can you, Beaumelle,
Having deceived so great a trust as mine, Though I were all credulity, hope again To get belief? No, no; if you look on me With pity, or dare practise any means
To make my sufferings less, or give just cause To all the world to think what I must do Was called upon by you, use other ways: Deny what I have seen, or justify
What you have done; and, as you desperately Made shipwreck of your faith, to be a whore, Use the arms of such a one, and such defence, And multiply the sin with impudence. Stand boldly up, and tell me to my teeth, That you have done but what is warranted By great examples, in all places where Women inhabit; urge your own deserts, Or want in me of merit; tell me how Your dower, from the low gulf of poverty, Weighed up my fortunes to what they now are: That I was purchased by your choice and prac-
To shelter you from shame, that you might sin As boldly as securely; that poor men Are married to those wives that bring them wealth,
One day their husbands, but observers ever. That when, by this proud usage, you have blown The fire of my just vengeance to the height, I then may kill you, and yet say, 'twas done In heat of blood, and after die myself, To witness my repentance. Beaumel. O my fate!
That never would consent that I should see How worthy you were both of love and duty, Before I lost you; and my misery made The glass, in which I now behold your virtue! While I was good I was a part of you, And of two, by the virtuous harmony
Of our fair minds, made one; but, since I wandered
In the forbidden labyrinth of lust, What was inseparable is by me divided. With justice, therefore, you may cut me off, And from your memory wash the remembrance That e'er I was; like to some vicious purpose, Which, in your better judgment, you repent of, And study to forget.
That you can speak so well, and do so ill!
But you had been too great a blessing, if
You had continued chaste: See, how you force
O, sir, most welcome! Let me take your cloak, I must not be denied.-Here are your robes; As you love justice, once more put them on. There is a cause to be determined of, That does require such an integrity As you have ever used.-I'll put you to The trial of your constancy and goodness; And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed In other men's affairs, prove not a mole In what concerns yourself. Take you your seat; I will before you presently. [Exit.
Roch. Angels guard me!
To what strange tragedy does this induction Serve for a prologue?
Enter CHARAlois, Beaumelle, and BEAU- MONT, with Servants bearing the body of No- VALL junior.
Char. So, set it down before The judgment seat,-[Exeunt Servants.] and stand you at the bar:
For me, I am the accuser.
Roch. Novall slain!
And Beaumelle, my daughter, in the place Of one to be arraigned!
Char. O, are you touched?
I find that I must take another course.
[He hoodwinks ROCHFORT. Fear nothing; I will only blind your eyes, For justice should do so, when 'tis to meet An object, that may sway her equal doom From what it should be aimed at. Good my lord, A day of hearing.
Roch. It is granted, speak-You shall have justice.
Char. I then here accuse,
Most equal judge, the prisoner, your fair daughter For whom I owed so much to you; your daughter, So worthy in her own parts, and that worth Set forth by yours, (to whose so rare perfections, Truth witness with me, in the place of service, I almost paid idolatrous sacrifice,) To be a false adultress.
Roch. With whom?
Char. With this Novall, here dead. Roch. Be well advised,
And, ere you say adulteress again, Her fame depending on it, be most sure That she is one.
Char. I took them in the act: I know no proof beyond it. Roch. O my heart!
Char. A judge should feel no passions. Roch. Yet, remember
He is a man, and cannot put off nature. What answer makes the prisoner? Beaumel. I confess
The fact I am charged with, and yield myself Most miserably guilty.
Roch. Heaven take mercy Upon your soul, then! It must leave your body. Now free mine eyes; I dare unmoved look on her, And fortify my sentence with strong reasons. [CHAR. unbinds his eyes. Since that the politic law provides that servants, To whose care we commit our goods, shall die, If they abuse our trust; what can you look for, To whose charge this most hopeful lord gave up All he received from his brave ancestors, Or he could leave to his posterity,
His honour, wicked woman! in whose safety All his life's joys and comforts were locked up, Which thy hot lust, a thief, hath now stolen from
The wrong that's done to the chaste married bed Repentant tears can never expiate; And be assured, to pardon such a sin, Is an offence as great as to commit it. Char. I may not then forgive her? Roch. Nor she hope it.
Nor can she wish to live: No sun shall rise, But ere it set shall shew her ugly lust In a new shape, and every one more horrid. Nay, even those prayers, which with such humble fervour
She seems to send up yonder, are beat back; And all suits which her penitence can proffer, As soon as made, are with contempt thrown out Of all the courts of mercy.
Char. Let her die, then.
Better prepared, I am sure, I could not take her, Nor she accuse her father as a judge, Partial against her.
Beaumel. I approve his sentence,
And kiss the executioner: My lust
Is now run from me in that blood, in which It was begot and nourished.
Roch. Is she dead, then?
Char. Yes, sir, this is her heart-blood, is it not?
Roch. And you have killed her?
Char. True, and did it by your doom. Roch. But I pronounced it
As a judge only, and a friend to justice, And, zealous in defence of your wronged honour, Broke all the ties of nature, and cast off The love and soft affection of a father. I, in your cause, put on a scarlet robe Of red-dyed cruelty; but, in return, You have advanced for me no flag of mercy. I looked on you as a wronged husband; but You closed your eyes against me as a father. O Beaumelle! my daughter!
Char. This is madness.
Roch. Keep from me!-Could not one good thought rise up,
To tell you that she was my age's comfort, Begot by a weak man, and born a woman, And could not, therefore, but partake of frailty? Or wherefore did not thankfulness step forth, To urge my many merits, which I may Object unto you, since you prove ungrateful, Flint-hearted Charalois !
Char. Nature does prevail above your virtue. Roch. No; it gives me eyes
To pierce the heart of your design against me: I find it now, it was my state was aimed at. A nobler match was sought for, and the hours I lived, grew tedious to you: my compassion Towards you hath rendered me most miserable, And foolish charity undone myself.
But there's a heaven above, from whose just wreak
No mists of policy can hide offenders.
Nov. sen. within.] Force ope the doors!- Enter NOVALL sen. with Officers.
O monster! cannibal!
Lay hold on him. My son! my son !-O Roch fort,
'Twas you gave liberty to this bloody wolf, To worry all our comforts :-But this is No time to quarrel; now give your assistance For the revenge.
Roch. Call it a fitter name, Justice for innocent blood.
Char. Though all conspire
Against that life which I am weary of, A little longer yet I'll strive to keep it, To shew, in spite of malice and their laws, His plea must speed, that hath an honest cause. [Exeunt.
Enter Tailor, and two Bailiffs with LILADAM. Lilad. Why, it is both most unconscionable and untimely,
To arrest a gallant for his clothes, before He has worn them out. Besides, you said you asked
My name in my lord's bond but for form only, And now you'll lay me up for it. Do not think The taking measure of a customer By a brace of varlets, though I rather wait Never so patiently, will prove a fashion Which any courtier or inns-of-court-man Would follow willingly.
Tail. There I believe you.
But, sir, I must have present monies, or
I yet could wish the justice, that you seek for In the revenge, had been trusted to me, And not the uncertain issue of the laws: It has robbed me of a noble testimony Of what I durst do for him.-But, however, My forfeit life redeemed by him, though dead, Shall do him service.
Nov. sen. As far as my grief Will give me leave, I thank you. Lilad. O, my lord!
Oh, my good lord! deliver me from these fu
Grew suddenly out of a tailor's bodkin; These hangers from my vails and fees in hell; And where as now this beaver fits, full often A thrifty cap, composed of broad-cloth lists, Near-kin unto the cushion where I sat Cross-legged, and yet ungartered, hath been seen Our breakfasts, famous for the buttered loaves, I have with joy been oft acquainted with; And therefore use a conscience, though it be Forbidden in our hall towards other men, To me, that, as I have been, will again Be of the brotherhood.
Officer. I know him now;
He was a 'prentice to Le Robe at Orleance. Lilad. And from thence brought by my young lord, now dead,
Unto Dijon; and with him, till this hour, Have been received here for a complete mon- sieur :
Nor wonder at it; for, but tithe our gallants, Even those of the first rank, and you will find, In every ten, one, peradventure two, That smell rank of the dancing-school or fiddle, The pantofle or pressing-iron :-But hereafter We'll talk of this. I will surrender up My suits again; there cannot be much loss; 'Tis but the turning of the lace, with one Addition more you know of, and what wants I will work out.
Tail. Then here our quarrel ends:
The gallant is turned tailor, and all friends.
SCENE II.-The Court of Justice.
Enter ROMONT and BEAUMONT.
Rom. You have them ready?
Beaum. Yes; and they will speak
Though they are too familiar I deserve them. And, knowing too what blood my sword hath drunk,
In wreak of that disgrace, they yet forbear To shake their heads, or to revile me for
A murderer; they rather all put on
(As for great losses the old Romans used) A general face of sorrow, waited on
Their knowledge in this cause, when thou think'st By a sad murmur, breaking through their silence,
To have them called upon.
Rom. 'Tis well; and something
I can add to their evidence, to prove
And no eye but was readier with a tear To witness 'twas shed for me, than I could Discern a face made up with scorn against me. Why should I, then, though for unusual wrongs
This brave revenge, which they would have called I chose unusual means to right those wrongs,
Rom. That friendship's raised on sand, Which every sudden gust of discontent, Or flowing of our passions, can change,
As if it ne'er had been:-But do you know Who are to sit on him?
Beaum: Monsieur Du Croy,
Assisted by Charmi.
Rom. The advocate,
That pleaded for the marshal's funeral, And was checked for it by Novali? Beaum. The same.
Rom. How fortunes that?
Beaum. Why, sir, my lord Novall, Being the accuser, cannot be the judge; Nor would grieved Rochfort, but lord Charalois (However he might wrong him by his power) Should have an equal hearing.
Rom. By my hopes
Of Charalois' acquittal, I lament That reverend old man's fortune.
Beaum. Had you seen him,
As to my grief I have, now promise patience, And ere it was believed, though spake by him That never brake his word, enraged again So far as to make war upon those hairs, Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume To touch, but with a superstitious fear, As something sacred;-and then curse his daugh- ter,
But with more frequent violence himself, As if he had been guilty of her fault, By being incredulous of your report, You would not only judge him worthy pity,
But suffer with him.-But here comes the priso
Enter Officers, with CHARALOIS.
I dare not stay to do my duty to him; Yet, rest assured, all possible means in me To do him service, keeps you company. Rom. It is not doubted. [Exit BEAUMONT. Char. Why, yet, as I came hither, The people, apt to mock calamity,
Condemn myself, as over partial
In my own cause?-Romont!
Rom. Best friend, well met!
By my heart's love to you, and join to that, My thankfulness that still lives to the dead, 1 look upon you now with more true joy, Than when I saw you married.
Char. You have reason
To give you warrant for it. My falling off From such a friendship, with the scorn that an
Your too prophetic counsel, may well move you To think your meeting me, going to my death, A fit encounter for that hate, which justly I have deserved from you.
Rom. Shall I still, then,
Speak truth, and be ill understood? Char. You are not.
I'm conscious I have wronged you; and allow me Only a moral man, to look on you,
Whom foolishly I have abused and injured, Must of necessity be more terrible to me, Than any death the judges can pronounce From the tribunal which I am to plead at. Rom. Passion transports you. Char. For what I have done To my false lady, or Novall, I can Give some apparent cause; but touching you, In my defence, childlike, I can say nothing But, I am sorry for it; a poor satisfaction! And yet, mistake me not; for it is more Than I will speak, to have my pardon signed For all I stand accused of.
Rom. You much weaken
The strength of your good cause, should you but think,
A man for doing well could entertain A pardon, were it offered. You have given To blind and slow-paced justice wings and eyes, To see and overtake impieties,
Which from a cold proceeding had received Indulgence or protection.
Rom. Upon my soul! nor should the blood you challenged,
And took to cure your honour, breed more scruple
In your soft conscience, than if your sword Had been sheathed in a tyger or she-bear,
And tread on the oppressed, made no horns at That in their bowels would have made your tomb.
To injure innocence is more than murder:
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