A clozet discouer'd. A Seruant sleeping with lights and money before him.
Enter D 'AMVILLE .
D'amville.
What, sleep'st thou? Seru .
No, my Lord. Nor sleepe nor wake.
But in a slumber troublesome to both. D'am .
Whence comes this gold? Seru .
'Tis part of the Reuenew
Due to your Lordship since your brother's death. D'am .
To bed. Leaue me my gold. Seru .
And me my rest.
Two things wherewith one man is seldome blest. D'am .
Cease that harsh musicke. W'are not pleas'd with it.
Heere sounds a musicke whose melodious touch
Like Angels' voices rauishes the sence.
Behold thou ignorant Astronomer
Whose wand'ring speculation seekes among
The planets for men's fortunes, with amazement
Behold thine errour and be planet strucke.
These are the Starres whose operations make
The fortunes and the destinies of men.
Yon lesser eyes of Heau'n (like Subjects rais'd
Into their loftie houses, when their Prince
Rides underneath th' ambition of their loues)
Are mounted onely to behold the face
Of your more rich imperious eminence
With unpreuented sight. Unmaske, fair Queene.
Vouchsafe their expectations may enjoy
The gracious fauour they admire to see.
These are the Starres the Ministers of Fate
And Man's high wisdome the superiour power
To which their forces are subordinate.
Enter the Ghoast of M ONTFERRERS . Mont .
D'amville! With all thy wisedome th'art a foole.
Not like those fooles that we terme innocents
But a most wretched miserable foole
Which instantly, to the confusion of
Thy projects, with despaire thou shalt behold.
D 'AMVILLE starts up . D'am .
What foolish dreame dares interrupt my rest
To my confusion? How can that be, since
My purposes haue hitherto beene borne
With prosp'rous Judgement to secure successe
Which nothing liues to dispossesse me of
But apprehended Charlemont. And him
This braine has made the happy instrument
To free suspition, to annihilate
All interest and title of his owne
To seale up my assurance, and confirme
My absolute possession by the law.
Thus while the simple, honest worshipper
Of a phantastique prouidence, groanes under
The burthen of neglected miserie
My real wisedome has rais'd up a State
That shall eternize my posteritie.
Enter S ERUANT with the body of S EBASTIAN .
What's that? Seru .
The body of your younger Sonne
Slaine by the Lord Belforest. D'am .
Slaine! You lie!
Sebastian! Speak, Sebastian! He's lost
His hearing. A Phisitian presently.
Goe, call a Surgeon. Rousa .
Ooh. D'am .
What groane was that?
How does my elder Sonne? The sound came from
His chamber. Seru .
He went sicke to bed, my Lord. Rousa .
Ooh. D'am .
The cries of Mandrakes neuer touch'd the eare
With more sad horrour than that voice does mine.
Enter a Seruant running. Seru .
Neuer you will see your Sonne aliue — — D'am .
Nature forbid I e'er should see him dead.
Withdraw the Curtaines. O how does my Sonne? Seru .
Me thinkes he's ready to giue up the ghoast. D'am .
Destruction take thee and thy fatall tongue.
Dead! where's the Doctor? — — Art not thou the face
Of that prodigious apparition star'd upon
Me in my dreame? Seru .
The Doctor's come, my Lord. D'am .
Doctor, behold two Patients in whose cure
Thy skill may purchase an eternal fame.
If thou'st any reading in Hipocrates ,
Galen , or Auicen; if hearbs, or drugges,
Or mineralles haue any power to saue,
Now let thy practise and their soueraigne use
Raise thee to wealth and honour. Doct .
If any roote of life remaines within 'em
Capable of Phisicke feare 'em not, my Lord. Rousa .
Ooh. D'am .
His gasping sighes are like the falling noise
Of some great building when the ground-worke breakes.
On these two pillars stood the stately frame
And architecture of my loftie house.
An Earthquake shakes 'em. The foundation shrinkes
Deare Nature, in whose honour I haue rais'd
A worke of glory to posteritie,
O burie not the pride of that great action
Under the fall and mine of it selfe. Doct .
My Lord, these bodies are depriu'd of all
The radicall abilitie of Nature.
The heat of life is utterly extinguish'd.
Nothing remaines within the power of man
That can restore them. D'am .
Take this gold, extract
The Spirit of it, and inspire new life
Into their bodies. Doct .
Nothing can, my Lord. D'am .
You ha' not yet examin'd the true state
And constitution of their bodies. Sure
You ha' not. I'll reserue their waters till
The morning. Questionlesse, their urines will
Informe you better. Doct .
Ha, ha, ha! D'am .
Dost laugh.
Thou villaine? Must my wisdome that has beene
The obiect of men's admiration now
Become the subject of thy laughter? Rous .
Ooh. All .
Hee's dead. D'am .
O there expires the date
Of my posteritie! Can Nature be
So simple or malicious to destroy
The reputation of her proper memorie?
Shee cannot. Sure there is some power aboue
Her that controules her force. Doct .
A power aboue.
Nature? Doubt you that, my Lord? Consider but
Whence Man receiues his body and his forme.
Not from corruption like some wormes and flies,
But onelie from the generation of
A man. For Nature neuer did bring forth
A man without a man; nor could the first
Man, being but the passiue Subiect not
The actiue Mouer, be the maker of
Himselfe. So of necessitie there must
Be a superiour power to Nature. D'am .
Now to my selfe I am ridiculous.
Nature thou art a Traytour to my soule.
Thou hast abus'd my trust. I will complaine
To a superior Court to right my wrong.
I'll proue thee a forger of false assurances.
In yon Starre chamber thou shalt answere it
Withdraw the bodies. O the sense of death
Begins to trouble my distracted soule.
Enter D 'AMVILLE .
D'amville.
What, sleep'st thou? Seru .
No, my Lord. Nor sleepe nor wake.
But in a slumber troublesome to both. D'am .
Whence comes this gold? Seru .
'Tis part of the Reuenew
Due to your Lordship since your brother's death. D'am .
To bed. Leaue me my gold. Seru .
And me my rest.
Two things wherewith one man is seldome blest. D'am .
Cease that harsh musicke. W'are not pleas'd with it.
Heere sounds a musicke whose melodious touch
Like Angels' voices rauishes the sence.
Behold thou ignorant Astronomer
Whose wand'ring speculation seekes among
The planets for men's fortunes, with amazement
Behold thine errour and be planet strucke.
These are the Starres whose operations make
The fortunes and the destinies of men.
Yon lesser eyes of Heau'n (like Subjects rais'd
Into their loftie houses, when their Prince
Rides underneath th' ambition of their loues)
Are mounted onely to behold the face
Of your more rich imperious eminence
With unpreuented sight. Unmaske, fair Queene.
Vouchsafe their expectations may enjoy
The gracious fauour they admire to see.
These are the Starres the Ministers of Fate
And Man's high wisdome the superiour power
To which their forces are subordinate.
Enter the Ghoast of M ONTFERRERS . Mont .
D'amville! With all thy wisedome th'art a foole.
Not like those fooles that we terme innocents
But a most wretched miserable foole
Which instantly, to the confusion of
Thy projects, with despaire thou shalt behold.
D 'AMVILLE starts up . D'am .
What foolish dreame dares interrupt my rest
To my confusion? How can that be, since
My purposes haue hitherto beene borne
With prosp'rous Judgement to secure successe
Which nothing liues to dispossesse me of
But apprehended Charlemont. And him
This braine has made the happy instrument
To free suspition, to annihilate
All interest and title of his owne
To seale up my assurance, and confirme
My absolute possession by the law.
Thus while the simple, honest worshipper
Of a phantastique prouidence, groanes under
The burthen of neglected miserie
My real wisedome has rais'd up a State
That shall eternize my posteritie.
Enter S ERUANT with the body of S EBASTIAN .
What's that? Seru .
The body of your younger Sonne
Slaine by the Lord Belforest. D'am .
Slaine! You lie!
Sebastian! Speak, Sebastian! He's lost
His hearing. A Phisitian presently.
Goe, call a Surgeon. Rousa .
Ooh. D'am .
What groane was that?
How does my elder Sonne? The sound came from
His chamber. Seru .
He went sicke to bed, my Lord. Rousa .
Ooh. D'am .
The cries of Mandrakes neuer touch'd the eare
With more sad horrour than that voice does mine.
Enter a Seruant running. Seru .
Neuer you will see your Sonne aliue — — D'am .
Nature forbid I e'er should see him dead.
Withdraw the Curtaines. O how does my Sonne? Seru .
Me thinkes he's ready to giue up the ghoast. D'am .
Destruction take thee and thy fatall tongue.
Dead! where's the Doctor? — — Art not thou the face
Of that prodigious apparition star'd upon
Me in my dreame? Seru .
The Doctor's come, my Lord. D'am .
Doctor, behold two Patients in whose cure
Thy skill may purchase an eternal fame.
If thou'st any reading in Hipocrates ,
Galen , or Auicen; if hearbs, or drugges,
Or mineralles haue any power to saue,
Now let thy practise and their soueraigne use
Raise thee to wealth and honour. Doct .
If any roote of life remaines within 'em
Capable of Phisicke feare 'em not, my Lord. Rousa .
Ooh. D'am .
His gasping sighes are like the falling noise
Of some great building when the ground-worke breakes.
On these two pillars stood the stately frame
And architecture of my loftie house.
An Earthquake shakes 'em. The foundation shrinkes
Deare Nature, in whose honour I haue rais'd
A worke of glory to posteritie,
O burie not the pride of that great action
Under the fall and mine of it selfe. Doct .
My Lord, these bodies are depriu'd of all
The radicall abilitie of Nature.
The heat of life is utterly extinguish'd.
Nothing remaines within the power of man
That can restore them. D'am .
Take this gold, extract
The Spirit of it, and inspire new life
Into their bodies. Doct .
Nothing can, my Lord. D'am .
You ha' not yet examin'd the true state
And constitution of their bodies. Sure
You ha' not. I'll reserue their waters till
The morning. Questionlesse, their urines will
Informe you better. Doct .
Ha, ha, ha! D'am .
Dost laugh.
Thou villaine? Must my wisdome that has beene
The obiect of men's admiration now
Become the subject of thy laughter? Rous .
Ooh. All .
Hee's dead. D'am .
O there expires the date
Of my posteritie! Can Nature be
So simple or malicious to destroy
The reputation of her proper memorie?
Shee cannot. Sure there is some power aboue
Her that controules her force. Doct .
A power aboue.
Nature? Doubt you that, my Lord? Consider but
Whence Man receiues his body and his forme.
Not from corruption like some wormes and flies,
But onelie from the generation of
A man. For Nature neuer did bring forth
A man without a man; nor could the first
Man, being but the passiue Subiect not
The actiue Mouer, be the maker of
Himselfe. So of necessitie there must
Be a superiour power to Nature. D'am .
Now to my selfe I am ridiculous.
Nature thou art a Traytour to my soule.
Thou hast abus'd my trust. I will complaine
To a superior Court to right my wrong.
I'll proue thee a forger of false assurances.
In yon Starre chamber thou shalt answere it
Withdraw the bodies. O the sense of death
Begins to trouble my distracted soule.