Monsieur D'Olive Act 3

ST. ANNE: You have inclined me more to leave this life
Than I supposed it possible for an angel;
Nor is your judgment to suppress your passion
For so dear loved a sister (being as well
Your blood and flesh, as mine) the least enforcement
Of your dissuasive arguments. And besides,
Your true resemblance of her much supplies
Her want in my affections; with all which
I feel in these deep griefs, to which I yield
(A kind of false, sluggish, and rotting sweetness ... [III.1.10]
Mixed with an humor where all things in life
Lie drowned in sour, wretched, and horrid thoughts)
The way to cowardly desperation opened;
And whatsoever urgeth souls accursed
To their destruction, and sometimes their plague,
So violently gripes me, that I lie
Whole days and nights bound at his tyrannous feet;
So that my days are not like life or light,
But bitterest death, and a continual night.

VANDOME: The ground of all is unsufficed love, ... [III.1.20]
Which would be best eased with some other object;
The general rule of Naso being autentic,
Quod successore novo vincitur omnis amor:
For the affections of the mind, drawn forth
In many currents, are not so impulsive
In any one; and so the Persian king
Made the great river Ganges run distinctly
In an innumerable sort of channels;
By which means, of a fierce and dangerous flood,
He turned it into many pleasing rivers, ... [III.1.30]
So likewise is an army disarrayed
Made penetrable for the assaulting foe;
So huge fires, being diffused, grow assuaged,
Lastly, as all force, being unite, increaseth,
So being dispersed, it grows less sharp and ceaseth.

ST. ANNE: Alas, I know I cannot love another;
My heart accustomed to love only her,
My eyes accustomed to view only her,
Will tell me whatsoever is not her,
Is foul and hateful.
: ~~~ Yet forbear to keep her ... [III.1.40]
Still in your sight; force not her breathless body
Thus against nature to survive, being dead;
Let it consume, that it may reassume
A form incorruptible; and refrain
The places where you used to joy in her;
Heu fuge dilectas terras, fuge litus amatum!
For how can you be ever sound or safe
Wherein so many red steps of your wounds
Gasp in your eyes? With change of place be sure,
Like sick men mending, you shall find recure. [They retire.] ... [III.1.50]
[Enter the Duke, D'Olive, Jacqueline, Hieronime, Mugeron, Roderigue,see the dead Countess that is kept in her attire unburied.]

D'OLIVE: Faith, madam, my company may well be spared
at so mournful a visitation. For, by my soul, to see Pygmalion
dote upon a marble picture, a senseless statue, I should
laugh and spoil the tragedy.

D'OLIVE: Tush, my lord, true manhood can neither mourn ... [III.1.60]
nor admire. It's fit for women -- they can weep at pleasure,
even to admiration.

D'OLIVE: But this is nothing rare; 'tis a virtue common
for men to love their wives after death. The value of a
good wife (as all good things else) are better known by their
want than by their fruition; for no man loves his wife so
well while she lives, but he loves her ten times better when
she's dead.

D'OLIVE: Faith, my lord, I speak my thoughts; and for
mine own part, I should so ill endure the loss of a wife
(always provided I loved her), that if I lost her this week,
I'd have another by the beginning o' th' next. And thus
resolved, I leave your Highness to deal with Atropos for
cutting my lady's thread: I am for France; all my care
is for followers to imp out my train. I fear I must come
to your Grace for a press; for I will be followed as becomes
an honorable lord; and that is like an honest squire; for,
with our great lords, followers abroad and hospitality at ... [III.1.80]
home are out of date. The world's now grown thrifty;
he that fills a whole page in folio with his style, thinks it
veriest noble to be manned with one bare page and a pandar;
and yet Pandar, in ancient time, was the name of an honest
courtier. what 'tis now, Viderit utilitas. Come, wits, let's
to my chamber. [Exeunt. Manent Vandome, St. Anne.]

VANDOME: Well now, my lord, remember all the reasons
And arguments I used at first to you,
To draw you from your hurtful passions;
And therewithal admit one further cause, ... [III.1.90]
Drawn from my love, and all the powers I have;
Eurione, vowed sister to my sister,
Whose virtues, beauties, and perfections
Adorn our country, and do nearest match
With her rich graces that your love adores,
Hath wounded my affections; and to her
I would intreat your lordship's graceful word.

ST. ANNE: But is it true? Loves my dear bother now?
It much delights me, for your choice is noble.
Yet need you not urge me to come abroad, ... [III.1.100]
Your own worth will suffice for your wished speed.

VANDOME: I know, my lord, no man alive can win
Her resolved judgment from virginity,
Unless you speak for him, whose word of all dames
Is held most sweet, and worthy to persuade them.

ST. ANNE: The world will think me too fantastical,
To ope so suddenly my vowed obscureness.

VANDOME: My lord, my love is sudden, and requires
A sudden remedy; if I be delayed,
Consider love's delay breeds desperation, ... [III.1.110]
By weighing how strongly love works in yourself.

ST. ANNE: Dear brother, nothing underneath the stars
Makes me so willing to partake the air
And undergo the burden of the world,
As your most worthy self and your wished good;
And glad I am that by this means I may
See your descent continued, and therein
Behold some new-born image of my wife.
Dear life, take knowledge that thy brother's love
Makes me dispair with my true zeal to thee; ... [III.1.120]
And if for his sake I admit the earth
To hide this treasure of thy precious beauties,
And that thy part surviving be not pleased,
Let it appear to me, ye just assisters
Of all intentions bent to sovereign justice,
And I will follow it into the grave;
Or dying with it, or preserve it thus,
As long as any life is left betwixt us. [Exeunt.]

RODERIGUE: 'Sfoot, you drew the eyes of the whole presence
upon you! There was one lady, a man might see her
heart ready to start out of her eyes to follow you.

D'OLIVE: But Monsieur Mustapha there kept state, when
I accosted him; 'slight, the brazen head looked to be
worshipped, I think! No, I'll commit no idolatry for the
proudest image of 'em all, I!

RODERIGUE: Your lordship has the right garb of an excellent
courtier: Respect's a clown, supple-jointed Courtesy's a ... [III.2.10]
very pea-goose; 'tis stiff-hammed Audacity that carries
it; get once within their distance, and you are in their
bosoms instantly.

D'OLIVE: 'Sheart, do they look I should stand aloof, like
a scholar, and make legs at their greatness? No, I'll none
of that; come up close to him, give him a clap o' th' shoulder
shall make him cry 'oh!' again -- it's a tender place to deal
withal -- and say, 'Well encountered, noble Brutus!'

D'OLIVE: 'Sfoot, I'll make legs to none, unless it be to a ... [III.2.20]
Justice of Peace when he speaks in's chair, or to a constable
when he leans on's staff, that's flat! Softness and modesty
savors of the cart; 'tis boldness, boldness, does the deed
in the Court; and as your chameleon varies all colors o'
th' rainbow, both white and red, so must your true courtier
be able to vary his countenance through all humors --
state, strangeness, scorn, mirth, melancholy, flattery, and
so forth; some colors likewise his face may change upon
occasion, black or blue it may, tawny it may, but red and
white at no hand -- avoid that like a sergeant; keep your ... [III.2.30]
color stiff, unguilty of passion or disgrace, not changing
white at sight of your mercer, nor red at sight of your
surgeon; above all sins, heaven shield me from the sin of
blushing! It does ill in a young waiting-woman; but monstrous,
monstrous in an old courtier.

RODERIGUE: Well, all this while your lordship forgets your
ambassage; you have given out you will be gone within
this month, and yet nothing is ready.

D'OLIVE: It's no matter, let the moon keep her course;
and yet, to say truth, 'twere more than time I were gone, ... [III.2.40]
for, by heaven, I am so haunted with followers, every day
new offers of followers; but heaven shield me from any
more followers! How now, what's the news?
[Enter Mugeron and two others.]

MUGERON: My lord, here's two of my special friends, whom I
would gladly commend to follow you in the honorable
action.

D'OLIVE: 'Sfoot, my ears are double-locked against followers;
you know my number's full, all places under me are bestowed.
I'll out of town this night, that's infallible; I'll
no more followers, o' mine honor. ... [III.2.50]

MUGERON: 'Slight, lord, you must entertain them! They
have paid me their income, and I have undertaken your
lordship shall grace them.

D'OLIVE: Well, my masters, you might have come at a
time when your entertainment would have proved better
than now it is like; but such as it is, upon the commendation
of my steward here --

D'OLIVE: Gentlemen: their bearing bewrays no less; it
goes not always by apparel. I do allow you to suit
yourselves anew in my colors at your own charges.

D'OLIVE: I had rather th' hadst been a barber, for I think
there will be little bloodshed amongst my followers, unless
it be of thy letting; I'll see their nails pared before they go.
And yet now I bethink myself, our ambassage is into France,
there may be employment for thee; hast thou a tub?

CORNELIUS: I would be loath, my lord, to be dislocated or
unfurnished of any of my properties.

D'OLIVE: Book him down gentleman; he'll do good upon
the voyage, I warrant him! Provide thee a nag, petty
broker, thou'lt find employment for him, doubt not; keep
thyself an honest man, and by our return I do not doubt
but to see thee a rich knave; farewell, petty broker!
Prepare yourself against the day; this gentleman shall
acquaint you with my colors. Farewell, fripper; farewell,
petty broker: 'Discern and spy out,' is my motto.

RODERIGUE: [Aside.] A very reasonable prayer, for, unknown
to him, it lies now upon his death bed.

D'OLIVE: Nay, believe it, it shall do well (as you will say)
when you see't set forth suitable to my project. Here
shall stand my court cupboard, with its furniture of plate;
here shall run a wind instrument; here shall hang my
bass-viol; here my theorbo; and here will I hang myself.

D'OLIVE: But how will I hang myself, good wits? Not in
person, but in picture; I will be drawn --

D'OLIVE: Good again! I say I will be drawn all in complete
satin of some courtly color, like a knight of Cupid's
band; on this side shall be ranked chairs and stools and
other such complements of a chamber; this corner will be
a convenient room for my close-stool; I acquaint you with
all my privities, you see.

D'OLIVE: Here shall be a perch for my parrot, while I remain
unmarried -- I shall have the less miss of my wife;
here a hoop for my monkey when I am married -- my wife
will have the less miss of me; here will I have the statue
of some excellent poet, and I will have his nose go with a
vice (as I have seen the experience), and that, as if't had
taken cold i'th' head, --

D'OLIVE: Bitter, still! -- shall like a spout run pure wit all
day long; and it shall be fed with a pipe brought at my ... [III.2.130]
charge from Helicon over the Alps and under the sea by
the brain of some great engineer, and I think 'twill do
excellent.

D'OLIVE: Well, now, wits, about your several charges
touching my ambassage: Roderigue, is my speech put out to
making?

D'OLIVE: 'Tis well, tell him he shall have forty crowns;
promise, promise; want for no promising! And well ... [III.2.140]
remembered, have I e'er a gentleman usher yet? A strange
thing, amongst all my followers not one has wit enough
to be a gentleman usher; I must have one, there's no
remedy; farewell, have a care of my followers, all but
my petty broker, he'll shift for himself.

D'OLIVE: Heaven, I beseech thee, what an abominable
sort of followers have I put upon me! These courtiers ... [III.2.150]
feed on 'em with my countenance; I cannot look into the
city, but one or other makes tender of his good parts to me,
either his language, his travel, his intelligence, or something.
Gentlemen send me their younger sons, furnished in
complete, to learn fashions, forsooth; as if the riding of five
hundred miles and spending a thousand crowns would
make 'em wiser than God meant to make 'em. Others with
child with the traveling humor; as if an ass for going to
Paris could come home a courser of Naples. Others are
possessed with the humor of gallantry, fancy it to be the ... [III.2.160]
only happiness in this world to be enabled by such a color
to carry a feather in his crest, wear gold lace, gilt spurs,
and so sets his fortunes on't, turns two or three tenements
into trunks, and creeps home again with less than a snail,
not a house to hide his head in. Three hundred of these
goldfinches I have entertained for my followers; I can go
in no corner, but I meet with some of my whifflers in their
accoutrements; you may hear 'em half a mile ere they come
at you, and smell 'em half an hour after they are past you;
six or seven make a perfect morris-dance; they need no ... [III.2.170]
bells, their spurs serve their turn. I am ashamed to train
'em abroad; they'll say I carry a whole forest of feathers
with me, and I should plod afore 'em in plain stuff, like a
writing schoolmaster before his boys when they go a
feasting. I am afraid of nothing but I shall be ballated, I and
all my whifflers; but it's no matter, I'll fashion 'em, I'll
show 'em fashions; by heaven I'll give three parts of 'em
the slip, let 'em look for't! And yet, to say truth, I shall
not need, for if I can but linger my journey another month,
I am sure I shall mute half my feathers; I feel 'em begin ... [III.2.180]
to wear thin already; there's not ten crowns in twenty o'
their purses; and, by this light, I was told at Court that
my greasy host of the Porcupine last holiday was got up to
the ears in one of my follower's satin suits; and Vandome
went so far that he swore he saw two of them hanged.
Myself, indeed, passing yesterday by the frippery, spied two
of them hang out at a stall with a gambrel thrust from
shoulder to shoulder, like a sheep that were new-flayed.
'Tis not for nothing that this petty broker follows me; the
vulture smells a prey; not the carcasses, but the cases of ... [III.2.190]
some of my deceased followers; 'slight, I think it were my
wisest course to put ten pounds in stock with him, and turn
petty broker; certainly there's good to be done upon't. If
we be but a day or two out of town, he'll be able to load
every day a fresh horse with satin suits, and send them back
hither; indeed 'tis like to be hot travel, and therefore 'twill
be an ease to my followers to have their clothes at home
afore 'em. They'll on, get off how they can; little know
they what pikes their feathers must pass; before they go,
the sergeants; when they come home, the surgeons; but ... [III.2.200]
choose them, I'll wash my hands on 'em. [Exit.]

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