Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

The Epilogue at the reviving of this Play

 
We need not tell you Gallants, that this night
The Wits have jumpt, or that the Scenes hit right
'Twould be but labor lost for to excuse
What Fletcher had to do in: his brisk Muse
Was so Mercurial, that if he but writ
An Act, or two, the whole Play rose up wit.
We'll not appeal unto those Gentlemen
Judge by their Cloaths, if they sit right, nor when
The Ladies smile, and with their Fanns delight
To whisk a clinch aside, then all goes right:
'Twas well receiv'd before, and we dare say,
You now are welcome to no vulgar Play.
 

The Fair Maid of the Inn

A TRAGI-COMEDY

The Persons represented in the Play

Duke of Florence.

Cesario, a young Gentleman of a fiery nature, Son to Alberto,

Albertus, Father to Cesario, Admiral of Florence.

Baptista, a brave Sea-Commander, antient friend to Albertus, and Father to Mentivole and Biancha.

Mentivole, Son to Baptista, Lover of Clarissa.

Prospero, a noble friend to Baptista.

Two Magistrates of Florence.

Host, the supposed Father to Biancha.

Forobosco, a cheating Mountebank.

Clown, the Mountebanks man, and setter.

Three Gentlemen.

Secretary to the Duke.

Dancer,} Four fools and knaves,

Taylor,} who pretend love

Mulitteer,} Biancha, the Fair

Pedant,} Maid of the Inn.

Sailors.

WOMEN

Mariana, Wife to Albertus, a virtuous Lady.

Clarissa, Mariana's Daughter, in love with Mentivole.

Juliana, Neece to the Duke of Genoa, Baptista's second wife.

Biancha, the Fair Maid of the Inn, beloved of Cesario, and Daughter to Baptista and Juliana.

Hostess, the supposed Mother of Biancha.

The Scene, Florence

PROLOGUE

 
Plays have their fates, not as in their true sence
They're understood, but as the influence
Of idle custom, madly works upon
The dross of many tongu'd opinion.
A worthy story, howsoever writ
For Language, modest Mirth, Conceit or Wit,
Meets oftentimes with the sweet commendation
Of hang't, 'tis scurvy, when for approbation
A Jigg shall be clapt at, and every rhime
Prais'd and applauded by a clamorous chime.
Let ignorance and laughter dwell together,
They are beneath the Muses pity. Hither
Come nobler Judgements, and to those the strain
Of our invention is not bent in vain,
The Fair Maid of the Inn to you commends
Her hopes and welcomes, and withal intends
In th' Entertains to which she doth invite ye,
All things to please, a[n]d some things to delight ye.
 

Actus Primus. Scæna Prima

Enter Cesario, and Clarissa

 
Cesario.
Interpret not Clarissa, my true zeal
In giving you counsel, to transcend the bounds
That should confine a brother; 'tis your honor,
And peace of mind (which honor last will leave you)
I labor to preserve, and though you yet are
Pure and untainted, and resolve to be so:
Having a Fathers eye, and Mothers care
In all your ways to keep you fair, and upright.
In which respects my best advices must
Appear superfluous; yet since love, dear Sister
Will sometimes tender things unnecessary,
Misconstrue not my purpose.
 
 
Claris. Sir, I dare not:
But still receive it as a large addition,
To the much that I already stand ingag'd for,
Yet pardon me, though I profess upon
A true examination of my self,
Even to my private thoughts I cannot find
(Having such strong supporters to uphold me)
On what slight ground the least doubt can be rais'd
To render me suspected, I can fall,
Or from my Fame or Virtue.
 
 
Cæsar. Far be it from me,
To nourish such a thought; and yet excuse me,
As you would do a Lapidary, whose whole fortunes
Depend upon the safety of one Jewel,
If he think no case precious enough
To keep it in full lustre, nor no locks,
Though lending strength to Iron doors sufficient
To guard it, and secure him; you to me are
A Gemm of more esteem, and priz'd higher
Than Usurers do their Muck, or great men Title.
And any flaw (which heaven avert) in you,
(Whose reputation like a Diamond
Cut newly from the rock, women with envie,
And men with covetous desires look up at)
By prying eies discovered in a moment
Would render what the braveries of Florence
For want of counterpoize, forbear to cheapen,
Of little or no value.
 
 
Claris. I see brother
The mark you shoot at, and much thank your love;
But for my Virgin Jewel which is brought
In comparison with your Diamond, rest assur'd
It shall not fall in such a workmans hands
Whose ignorance or malice shall have power
To cast one cloud upon it, but still keep
Her native splendor.
 
 
Cesa. 'Tis well, I commend you;
And study your advancement with that care
As I would do a Sisters, whom I love
With more than common order.
 
 
Claris. That from me,
I hope's return'd to you.
 
 
Cesar. I do confess it,
Yet let me tell you, (but still with that love,
I wish to increase between us) that you are
Observ'd against the gravity long maintain'd
In Italy (where to see a maid unmasqu'd
Is [h]eld a blemish) to be over-frequent
In giving or receiving visits.
 
 
Clari. How?
 
 
Cesar. Whereas the custom is here to wooe by Picture,
And never see the substance: you are fair,
And beauty draws temptations on; You know it,
I would not live to see a willing grant
From you, to one unworthy of your birth,
Feature or fortune; yet there have been Ladies
Of rank, proportion, and of means beyond you,
That have prov'd this no miracle.
 
 
Claris. One unworthy?
Why, pray you gentle brother, who are they
That I vouchsafe these bounties to? I hope
In your strict Criticisme of me, and my manners,
That you will not deny they are your equals.
 
 
Cesar. Angry?
 
 
Claris. I have reason, but in cold blood tell me,
Had we not one Father?
 
 
Cesar. Yes, and Mother too.
 
 
Claris. And he a Soldier.
 
 
Cesar. True.
 
 
Claris. If I then borrow
A little of the boldness of his temper,
Imparting it to such as may deserve it;
(However indulgent to your selves, you brothers
Allow no part of freedom to your Sisters)
I hope 'twill not pass for a crime in me,
To grant access and speech to noble suitors;
And you escape for innocent, that descend
To a thing so far beneath you. Are you touch'd?
Why did you think that you had Giges Ring,
Or the Herb that gives invisibility?
Or that Biancha's name had ne'er been mention'd;
The fair Maid of the grand Osteria, brother.
 
 
Cesar. No more.
 
 
Claris. A little, brother. Your night walks,
And offer'd presents; which coy she, contemn'd,
Your combats in disguises with your Rivals,
Brave Muletiers. Scullions perfum'd with grease,
And such as [cry] meat for Cats must be remembred;
And all this pother for a common trull,
A tempting sign, and curiously set forth,
To draw in riotous guests, a thing expos'd
To every Ruffians rude assault; and subject
For a poor salary, to a rich mans lust,
Though made up of diseases.
 
 
Cesar. Will you end yet?
 
 
Claris. And this a Mistriss for Albertus Son,
One that I should call Sister?
 
 
Cesar. Part not with
Your modesty in this violent heat; the truth is,
(For you shall be my Confessor) I love her,
But virtuously; report that gives her out
Only for fair, and adds not she is chaste,
Detracts much from her: for indeed she is,
Though of a low condition; compos'd
Of all those graces, dames of highest birth,
Though rich in natures bounties, should be proud of;
But leave her, and to you my nearest care,
My dearest best Clarissa. Do not think
(For then you wrong me) I wish you should live
A barren Virgin life; I rather aim at
A noble Husband, that may make you mother
Of many children, one that when I know him
Worth your embraces, I may serve, and sue [to]:
And therefore scorn not to acquaint me with
That man, that happy man; you please to favour.
 
 
Claris. I ever purpos'd it, for I will like
With your allowance:
 
 
Cesa. As a pawn of this;
Receive this Ring, but e'r you part with it
On any terms, be certain of your choice;
And make it known to me.
 

Enter Servants with Lights, Alberto, Baptista, Mariana, Mentivole

 
Claris. You have my hand for't.
 
 
Cesar. Which were it not my Sisters, I should kiss:
With too much heat.
 
 
Claris. My Father and his guests, Sir.
 
 
Alber. Oh my old friend, my tri'd friend, my Baptista:
These days of rest and feasting, sute not with
Our tougher natures, those were golden ones,
Which were enjoy'd at Sea; that's our true Mother:
The Land's to us a step-dame; there we sought
Honor, and wealth through dangers: yet those dangers
Delighted more than their rewards, though great ones,
And worth the undertakers: here we study
The Kitchin Arts, to sharpen appetite,
Dull'd with abundance; and dispute with Heaven;
If that the least puff of the rough North-wind,
Blast our times burthen, rendring to our Palats
The charming juice less pleasing; whereas there
If we had Bisket, powder'd flesh, fresh water,
We thought them Persian delicates, and for Musick
If a strong gale but made the main yard crack,
We danc'd to the loud Minstrel.
 
 
Bapt. And fear'd less,
(So far we were in love with noble action)
A tempest than a calm.
 
 
Alber. 'Tis true Baptista;
There, there, from mutual aids lent to each other,
And virtuous emulation to exceed
In manly daring, the true School of friendship,
We learnt those principles, which confirm'd us friends
Never to be forgot.
 
 
Baptist. Never I hope.
 
 
Alber. We were married there, for bells the roaring Canon,
Aloud proclaim'd it lawful, and a prize
Then newly ta'en, and equally divided,
Serv'd as a dowry to you, then stil'd my wife;
And did enable me to be a Husband,
Fit to encounter so much wealth, though got
With bloud and horror.
 
 
Maria. If so got, 'tis fit Sir
Now you possess it, that you should enjoy it
In peace, and quiet; I, your Son, and Daughter
That reap the harvest of your winters labour,
Though debtors for it yet have often trembled,
When, in way of discourse, you have related
How you came by it.
 
 
Alber. Trembled? how the softness
Of your sex may excuse you, I'll not argue,
But to the world, howe'er I hold thee noble
I should proclaim this boy some cowards bastard,
And not the Image of Albertus youth:
If when some wish'd occasion calls him forth,
To a brave trial, one weak artery
Of his, should show a fever, though grim death
Put on a thousand dreadful shapes to fright him;
The Elements, the Sea, and all the Winds
We number on our compass, then conspiring
To make the Scæne more ghastly; I must have thee
Sirrah, I must, If once you grapple with
An enemies ship, to board her, though you see
The desperate Gunner ready to give fire,
And blow the deck up, or like Cæsar's Soldier
Thy hands like his cut off, hang by the teeth,
And die undaunted.
 
 
Maria. I even die to hear you:
My son, my lov'd Cesario run such hazards?
Bless'd Saints forbid it: you have done enough
Already for one family, that rude way;
I'll keep him safe at home, and train him up
A compleat Courtier: may I live to see him,
By sweet discourse, and gracious demeanor,
Winn, and bring home a fair Wife, and a rich;
'Tis all I rest ambitious of.
 
 
Alber. A Wife!
As if there were a course to purchase one
Prevailing more than honourable action!
Or any Intercessors move so far,
To take a Mistriss of a noble spirit,
As the true fame of glorious victories,
Atchiev'd by sweat and bloud! Oh the brave dames
Of warlike Genoua! they had eyes to see
The inward man, and only from his worth,
Courage, and conquests: the blind Archer knew
To head his shafts, or light his quenched Torch,
They were proof against them else.
No Carpet Knight
That spent his youth in Groves, or pleasant Bowers;
Or stretching on a Couch his lazy limbs,
Sung to his Lute such soft and melting Notes,
As Ovid, nor Anacreon ever knew,
Could work on them, nor once bewitch'd their sense;
Though he came so perfum'd as he had robb'd
Sabæa, or Arabia, of their wealth;
And stor'd it in one sute:
I still remember,
And still remember it with joy, Baptista,
When from the rescue of the Genoua Fleet,
Almost surpriz'd by the Venetian Gallies,
Thou didst return, and wert receiv'd in triumph.
How lovely in thy honor'd wounds and scars
Thou didst appear! what worlds of amorous glances
The beauties of the City (where they stood,
Fix'd like so many of the fairest stars)
Shot from their windows at thee! how it fir'd
Their blouds to see the enemies captive streams
Born through the streets! nor could chaste Juliana
The Duke's fair Neece, though guarded with her greatness
Resist this gallant charge, but laying by
Desparity of fortune from the object,
Yielded her self thy prisoner.
 
 
Bap. Pray you chuse some other theme.
 
 
Mari. Can there be one more pleasing?
 
 
Bap. That triumph drew on me a greater torture,
And 'tis in the remembrance little less
Than ever Captive suffer'd.
 
 
Mari. How? to gain the favour of so great a Lady?
 
 
Bap. Yes, since it prov'd fatal, t'have been happy, Madam,
Adds to calamity, and the heavy loss
Of her I durst not hope for, once enjoy'd,
Turns what you think a blessing to a curse,
Which grief would have forgotten.
 
 
Alber. I am sorry I touch'd upon it.
 
 
Maria. I burn rather, Sir,
With a desire to hear the story of
Your loves, and shall receive it as a favour,
Which you may grant.
 
 
Bap. You must not be deny'd,
Yet with all brevity I must report it;
'Tis true, fair Juliana (Genoua's pride)
Enamour'd of my actions, lik'd my person;
Nor could I but with joy meet her affection;
Since it was lawful, for my first wife dead;
We were closely married, and for some few months
Tasted the fruits of't; but malicious fate,
Envying our too much happiness, wrought upon
A faithless servant, privy to our plot,
And Cabinet-Counselor to Juliana,
Who either for hope, or reward, or fear,
Discover'd us to the incensed Duke:
Whose rage made her close prisoner, and pronounc'd
On me perpetual banishment: some three years
I wander'd on the Seas, since entertain'd
By the great Duke of Florence; but what fate
Attended her? or Prospero my friend,
That staid at Genoua, to expect the issue,
Is yet uncertain.
 

Enter a Gentleman

 
Alber. From the Duke:
 
 
Bap. He's welcome, to end my forc'd relation.
 
 
Alber. Signior Baptista;
The Great Dukes Will commands your present [e]are.
 
 
Gent. It points indeed at both of you.
 
 
Bap. I wait it.
 
 
Alber. In Mariana, to your rest.
 
 
Bap. Nay leave us, we must be private.
 
 
Maria. Stay not long Cesario:
 

[ —Exeunt Manet Cesario, Mentivole.

 
Mentivo. So these old men vanish'd, 'tis allow'd
That we may speak, and howsoe'r they take
Delight in the discourse of former dangers,
It cannot hinder us to treat a little
Of present pleasures.
 
 
Cesario. Which if well injoy'd,
Will not alone continue, but increase
In us their friendship.
 
 
Ment. How shall we spend the night?
To snore it out like drunken Dutchmen, would
Sort ill with us Italians. We are made
Of other metall, fiery, quick, and active;
Shall we take our fortune? and while our cold fathers
(In whom long since their youthful heats were dead,)
Talk much of Mars, serve under Venus Ensigns,
And seek a Mistriss.
 
 
Cesar. That's a game dear friend,
That does admit no rival in chase of it.
And either to be undertook alone,
Or not to be attempted.
 
 
Ment. I'll not press you;
What other sports to entertain the time with
The following morning?
 
 
Cesar. Any that may become us.
 
 
Ment. Is the Neapolitan horse the Viceroy sent you,
In a fit plight to run?
 
 
Cesar. So my Groom tells me.
I can boast little of my horsemanship;
Yet upon his assurance, I dare wager
A thousand Crowns, 'gainst any horse in Florence,
For an eight mile course.
 
 
Ment. I would not win of you,
In respect you are impatient of loss:
Else I durst match him with my Barbary
For twice the sum.
 
 
Cesar. You do well to excuse it, being certain to be beaten.
 
 
Ment. Tush. You know the contrary.
 
 
Cesar. To end the controversie
Put it to trial, by my life I'll meet you
 

Enter Clarissa

 
With the next rising Sun.
 
 
Ment. A match. But here
Appears a Cynthia, that scorns to borrow
A beam of light from the great eye of Heaven,
She being her self all brightness; how I envy
Those amorous smiles, those kisses, but sure chaste ones
Which she vouchsafes her brother!
 
 
Claris. You are wanton:
Pray you think me not Biancha, leave I pray you;
My Mother will not sleep before she see you,
And since you know her tenderness, nay fondness;
In every circumstance that concerns your safety,
You are not equal to her.
 
 
Cesar. I must leave you; but will not fail to meet you.
 
 
Ment. Soft sleeps to you.
 
 
Within. Mariana: Cesario.
 
 
Claris. You are call'd again.
 
 
Cesar. Some Sons
Complain of too much rigor in their Mothers;
I of too much indulgence; you will follow. —
 

[Exit.

 
Claris. You are her first care, therefore lead the way.
 
 
Ment. She staies: blest opportunity, she staies:
As she invited conference, she was ever
Noble, and free: but thus to tempt my frailty,
Argues a yielding in her; or contempt
Of all that I dare offer; stand I now
Consulting? No, I'll put it home.
 
 
Claris. Who waits there? more Lights.
 
 
Ment. You need them not, they are as useless,
As at noon-day; can there be darkness, where
Nature then wisely liberal, vouchsaf'd
To lend two Suns.
 
 
Claris. Hyperboles:
 
 
Ment. No, truths:
Truths beauteous Virgin, so my love-sick heart
Assures me, and my understanding tells me
I must approach them wisely, should I rashly
Press near their scorching beams, they would consume me
And on the contrary, should your disdain
Keep me at too much distance, and I want
Their comfortable heat, the frost of death
Would seize on all my faculties.
 
 
Cla. Pray you pause, Sir.
This vehemency of discourse must else needs tire you.
These gay words take not me, 'tis simple faith
Honest integrity, and lawful flames
I am delighted with:
 
 
Ment. Such I bring with me, and therefore Lady.
 
 
Cla. But that you took me off
E're I came to a period; I had added
A long experience must be requir'd
Both of his faith and trust, with whom a Virgin
Trafficks for, what's dearest in this life,
Her liberty, and honor; I confess
I oft have view'd you with an eye of favour,
And with your generous parts the many tenders
Of doing me all fair offices, have won
A good opinion from me.
 
 
Ment. Oh speak ever, I never heard such Musick.
 
 
Cla. A plain tune, Sir:
But 'tis a hearty one; when I perceive
By evident proofs, your aims are truly noble,
And that you bring the Engines of fair Love,
Not of foul Lust, to shake and undermine
My Maiden-fortress: I may then make good
What now I dare not promise.
 
 
Ment. You already
In taking notice of my poor deservings,
Have been magnificent, and 'twill appear
A frontless impudence to ask beyond this
Yet qualifie, though not excuse my error,
Though now I am ambitious to desire
A confirmation of it.
 
 
Cla. So it wrong not my modesty to grant it.
 
 
Ment. 'Tis far from me,
I only am a suitor, you would grace me
With some toy, but made rich in that you wore it,
To warrant to the world that I usurp not
When I presume to stile my self your servant,
A ribond from your shooe:
 
 
Cla. You are too humble,
I'll think upon't; and something of more value
Shall witness how I prize you, it grows late,
I'll bring you to the door.
 
 
Ment. You still more bind me. —
 

[Exeunt.

Enter Duke of Florence, Alberto, Baptista, Magistrates, and Attendants

 
Duke. You find by this assur'd intelligence
The preparation of the Turk[e] against us.
We have met him oft and beat him; now to fear him
Would argue want of courage, and I hold it
A safer policie for us and our signiories
To charge him in his passage o'er the Sea,
Than to expect him here.
 
 
Alb. May it please your Highness
Since you vouchsafe to think me worthy of
This great imployment, if I may deliver
My judgement freely, 'tis not flattery
Though I say my opinion waits on you,
Nor would I give my suffrage and consent
To what you have propos'd, but that I know it
Worth the great speaker, though that the denial
Call'd on your heavy anger. For my self
I do profess thus much, if a blunt Soldier,
May borrow so much from the oyl'd tongu'd Courtier,
(That ecchoes whatsoe'er the Prince allows of)
All that my long experience hath taught me
That have spent three parts of my life at Sea,
(Let it not taste of arrogance that I say it)
Could not have added reasons of more weight
To fortifie your affections, than such
As your grace out of observation meerly
Already have propounded.
 
 
Bap. With the honor to give the daring enemy an affront
In being the first opposer it will teach
Your Soldiers boldness: and strike fear in them
That durst attempt you.
 
 
1 Magi. Victuals and Ammunition,
And Money too, the sinews of the War, are stor'd up in the
Magazine.
 
 
2 Magi. And the Gallies new rig'd and train'd up,
And at two dayes warning fit for the service.
Duke. We commend your care,
Nor will we e'er be wanting in Our counsels,
As we doubt not your action; you Baptista
Shall stay with us; that Merchant is not wise,
That ventures his whole fortunes in one bottom.
Albert. Be our Admiral, spare your thanks,
'Tis Merit in you that invites this honor,
Preserve it such; ere long you shall hear more,
Things rashly undertaken end as ill,
But great acts thrive when reason guides the will.
 

– Exeunt. Enter 3 Gentlemen

 
1. No question 'twas not well done in Cæsario,
To cross the horse of young Mentivole
In the midst of this course.
 
 
2. That was not all, the switching him dull'd him.
 
 
3. Would that both the jades
Had broke their necks, when they first started; 'Slight,
We stand here prating, give them leave to whisper,
And when they have cut one anothers throats
 

Enter Mentivole, and Cæsario

 
Make in to part 'em.
 
 
2. There is no such hazard,
Their Fathers friendship, and their love forbid it;
See where they come!
 
 
1. With fury in their looks.
 
 
Ment. You have the wager, with what foul play got
I'll not dispute:
 
 
Cæsar. Foul play?
 
 
Ment. I cannot speak it
In a fairer language, and if some respects
Familiar to my self chain'd not my tongue,
I should say no more. I should, but I'll sit down,
With this disgrace; how e'er press me no farther.
For if once more provok'd, you'll understand
I dare no more suffer an Injury,
Than I dare do one.
 
 
Cæsar. Why Sir are you injur'd
In that I take my right which I would force,
Should you detain it?
 
 
Ment. Put it to judgment.
 
 
Cæsar. No; my will in this shall carry it.
 
 
Ment. Your will? nay, farewell softness then.
 

[They suddenly draw

 
3. This I foresaw.
 
 
2. Hold, hold.
 
 
Cæsar. I am hurt.
 
 
2. Shift for your self, 'tis death.
 
 
Men. As you respect me, bear him off with care,
If he miscarry since he did the wrong,
I'll stand the shock of't.
 
 
2. Gently, he will faint else. —
 

[Exeunt Gent. with Cæsario.

 
Ment. And speedily, I beseech you; my rage over,
That pour'd upon my reason clouds of error,
I see my folly, and at what dear loss
I have exchang'd a real innocence,
To gain a meer fantastical report,
Transported only by vain popular wind,
To be a daring, nay, fool-hardy Man.
 

Enter Baptista

 
But could I satisfie my self within here,
How should I bear my fathers frown? They meet me,
My guilt conjures him hither.
 
 
Bap. Sirrah:
 
 
Mentiv. Sir:
 
 
Bap. I have met the trophies of your ruffian sword:
Was there no other Anvile to make triall
How far thou durst be wicked, but the bosome
Of him, which under the adulterate name
Of friendship, thou hast murder'd.
 
 
Ment. Murder'd Sir?
My dreams abhor so base a fact; true valour
Imploy'd to keep my reputation fair
From the austerest Judge, can never merit
To be branded with that title; you begot me
A man, no coward; and but call your youth
To memory, when injur'd, you could never
Boast of the Asses fortitude, slave-like patience:
And you might justly doubt I were your son,
If I should entertain it; if Cæsario
Recover, as I hope his wound's not mortal,
A second tryal of what I dare doe
In a just cause, shall give strong witness for me
I am the true heir to Baptista's courage,
As to his other fortunes.
 
 
Baptist. Boy, to neither:
But on this strict condition, which intreaties
From Saints, nay Angels, shall not make me alter.
A friendship so began, and so continu'd
Between me and Alberto my best friend,
Your brawls shall not dissolve; it is my will,
And as I am thy Father, I command thee,
That instantly, on any termes, how poor
So e'er, it skills not, thou desire his pardon,
And bring assurance to me, he has sign'd it,
Or by my Fathers soul I'll never know thee:
But as a stranger to my blood; perform it,
And suddenly, without reply, I have said it.
 
 
Ment. And in it given a heavier sentence on me
Than the most cruel death; you are my father
And your will to be serv'd, and not disputed
By me, that am your Son: But I'll obey,
And though my heart-strings crack for't, make it known,
When you command, my faculties are your own.
 

[Exeunt.