by John Dryden
Jul. Yonder is my master, and my Dutch servant; how lovingly they talk in private! if I did not know my Don’s temper to be monstrously jealous, I should think, they were driving a secret bargain for my body; but cuerpo is not to be digested by my Castilian. Mi Moher, my wife, and my mistress! he lays the emphasis on me, as if to cuckold him were a worse sin, than breaking the commandment. If my English lover, Beamont, my Dutch love, the Fiscal, and my Spanish husband, were painted in a piece, with me amongst them, they would make a pretty emblem of the two nations that cuckold his Catholic majesty in his Indies.
Fisc. You will undertake it then?
Per. I have served under Towerson as his lieutenant, served him well, and, though I say it, bravely; yet never have been rewarded, though he promised largely; ’tis resolved, I’ll do it.
Fisc. And swear secresy?
Per. By this beard.
Fisc. Go wait upon the governor from me, confer with him about it in my name, this seal will give you credit.
[Gives him his seal.
Per. I go. [Goes a step or two, while the other approaches his wife.] What shall I be, before I come again?
[Exit.
Fisc. Now, my fair mistress, we shall have the opportunity which I have long desired.
[To Julia.
Per. The governor is now a-sleeping; this is his hour of afternoon’s repose, I’ll go when he is awake.
[Returning.
Fisc. He slept early this afternoon; I left him newly waked.
Per. Well, I go then, but with an aching heart.[Exit.
Fisc. So, at length he’s gone.
Jul. But you may find he was jealous, by his delay.
Fisc. If I were as you, I would give evident proofs, should cure him of that disease for ever after.
Enter Perez again.
Per. I have considered on’t, and if you would go along with me to the governor, it would do much better.
Fisc. No, no, that would make the matter more suspicious. The devil take thee for an impertinent cuckold!
[Aside.
Per. Well, I must go then.[Exit Perez.
Jul. Nay, there was never the like of him; but it shall not serve his turn, we’ll cuckold him most furiously.
Enter Perez again.
Per. I had forgot one thing; dear sweet-heart, go home quickly, and oversee our business; it won’t go forward without one of us.
Fisc. I warrant you, take no care of your business; leave it to me, I’ll put it forward in your absence: Go, go, you’ll lose your opportunity; I’ll be at home before you, and sup with you to-night.
Per. You shall be welcome, but —
Fisc. Three hundred quadruples.
Per. That’s true, but —
Fisc. But three hundred quadruples.
Per. The devil take the quadruples!
Enter Beamont.
Beam. There’s my cuckold that must be, and my fellow swaggerer, the Dutchman, with my mistress: my nose is wiped to-day; I must retire, for the Spaniard is jealous of me.
Per. Oh, Mr Beamont, I’m to ask a favour of you.
Beam. This is unusual; pray command it, signior.
Per. I am going upon urgent business; pray sup with me to-night, and, in the meantime, bear my worthy friend here company.
Beam. With all my heart.
Per. So, now I am secure; though I dare not trust her with one of them, I may with both; they’ll hinder one another, and preserve my honour into the bargain.
[Exit.
Beam. Now, Mr Fiscal, you are the happy man with the ladies, and have got the precedence of traffic here too; you’ve the Indies in your arms, yet I hope a poor Englishman may come in for a third part of the merchandise.
Fisc. Oh, sir, in these commodities, here’s enough for both; here’s mace for you, and nutmeg for me, in the same fruit, and yet the owner has to spare for other friends too.
Jul. My husband’s plantation is like to thrive well betwixt you.
Beam. Horn him; he deserves not so much happiness as he enjoys in you; he’s jealous.
Jul. ’Tis no wonder if a Spaniard looks yellow.
Beam. Betwixt you and me, ’tis a little kind of venture that we make, in doing this Don’s drudgery for him; for the whole nation of them is generally so pocky, that ’tis no longer a disease, but a second nature in them.
Fisc. I have heard indeed, that ’tis incorporated among them, as deeply as the Moors and Jews are; there’s scarce a family, but ’tis crept into their blood, like the new Christians.
Jul. Come, I’ll have no whispering betwixt you; I know you were talking of my husband, because my nose itches.
Beam. Faith, madam, I was speaking in favour of your nation: What pleasant lives I have known Spaniards to live in England.
Jul. If you love me, let me hear a little.
Beam. We observed them to have much of the nature of our flies; they buzzed abroad a month or two in the summer, would venture about dog-days to take the air in the Park, but all the winter slept like dormice; and, if they ever appeared in public after Michaelmas, their faces shewed the difference betwixt their country and ours, for they look in Spain as if they were roasted, and in England as if they were sodden.
Jul. I’ll not believe your description.
Fisc. Yet our observations of them in Holland are not much unlike it. I’ve known a great Don at the Hague, with the gentleman of his horse, his major domo, and two secretaries, all dine at four tables, on the quarters of a single pullet: The victuals of the under servants were weighed out in ounces, by the Don himself; with so much garlic in the other scale: A thin slice of bacon went through the family a week together; for it was daily put into the pot for pottage; was served in the midst of the dish at dinners, and taken out and weighed by the steward, at the end of every meal, to see how much it lost; till, at length, looking at it against the sun, it appeared transparent, and then he would have whipped it up, as his own fees, at a morsel; but that his lord barred the dice, and reckoned it to him for a part of his board wages.
Beam. In few words, madam, the general notion we had of them, was, that they were very frugal of their Spanish coin, and very liberal of their Neapolitan.
Jul. I see, gentlemen, you are in the way of rallying; therefore let me be no hinderance to your sport; do as much for one another as you have done for our nation. Pray, Mynheer Fiscal, what think you of the English?
Fisc. Oh, I have an honour for the country.
Beam. I beseech you, leave your ceremony; we can hear of our faults without choler; therefore speak of us with a true Amsterdam spirit, and do not spare us.
Fisc. Since you command me, sir, ’tis said of you, I know not how truly, that for your fishery at home, you’re like dogs in the manger, you will neither manage it yourselves, nor permit your neighbours; so that for your sovereignty of the narrow seas, if the inhabitants of them, the herrings, were capable of being judges, they would certainly award it to the English, because they were then sure to live undisturbed, and quiet under you.
Beam. Very good; proceed, sir.
Fisc. ’Tis true, you gave us aid in our time of need, but you paid yourselves with our cautionary towns: And, that you have since delivered them up, we can never give sufficient commendation, either to your honesty, or to your wit; for both which qualities you have purchased such an immortal fame, that all nations are instructed how to deal with you another time.
Beam. A most grateful acknowledgment; sweet sir, go on.
Fisc. For your trade abroad, if you should obtain it, you are so horribly expensive, that you would undo yourselves and all Christendom; for you would sink under your very profit, and the gains of the universal world would beggar you: You devour a voyage to the Indies, by the multitude of mouths with which you man your vessels: Providence has contrived it well, that the Indies are managed by us, an industrious and frugal people, who distribute its merchandise to the rest of Europe, and suffer it not to be consumed in England, that the other members might be starved, while you of Great Britai
n, as you call it, like a rickety head, would only swell and grow bigger by it.
Jul. I have heard enough of England; have you nothing to return upon the Netherlands?
Beam. Faith, very little to any purpose; he has been beforehand with us, as his countrymen are in their trade, and taken up so many vices for the use of England, that he has left almost none for the Low Countries.
Jul. Come, a word, however.
Beam. In the first place, you shewed your ambition when you began to be a state: For not being gentlemen, you have stolen the arms of the best families of Europe; and wanting a name, you made bold with the first of the divine attributes, and called yourselves the High and Mighty: though, let me tell you, that, besides the blasphemy, the title is ridiculous; for High is no more proper for the Netherlands, than Mighty is for seven little rascally provinces, no bigger in all than a shire in England. For my main theme, your ingratitude, you have in part acknowledged it, by your laughing at our easy delivery of your cautionary towns: The best is, we are used by you as well as your own princes of the house of Orange: We and they have set you up, and you undermine their power, and circumvent our trade.
Fisc. And good reason, if our interest requires it.
Beam. That leads me to your religion, which is only made up of interest: At home, you tolerate all worships in them who can pay for it; and abroad, you were lately so civil to the emperor of Pegu, as to do open sacrifice to his idols.
Fisc. Yes, and by the same token, you English were such precise fools as to refuse it.
Beam. For frugality in trading, we confess we cannot compare with you; for our merchants live like noblemen; your gentlemen, if you have any, live like boors. You traffic for all the rarities of the world, and dare use none of them yourselves; so that, in effect, you are the mill-horses of mankind, that labour only for the wretched provender you eat: A pot of butter and a pickled herring is all your riches; and, in short, you have a good title to cheat all Europe, because, in the first place, you cozen your own backs and bellies.
Fisc. We may enjoy more whenever we please.
Beam. Your liberty is a grosser cheat than any of the rest; for you are ten times more taxed than any people in Christendom: You never keep any league with foreign princes; you flatter our kings, and ruin their subjects; you never denied us satisfaction at home for injuries, nor ever gave it us abroad.
Fisc. You must make yourselves more feared, when you expect it.
Beam. And I prophecy that time will come, when some generous monarch of our island will undertake our quarrel, reassume the fishery of our seas, and make them as considerable to the English, as the Indies are to you.
Fisc. Before that comes to pass, you may repent your over-lavish tongue.
Beam. I was no more in earnest than you were.
Jul. Pray let this go no further; my husband has invited both to supper.
Beam. If you please, I’ll fall to before he comes; or, at least, while he is conferring in private with the Fiscal.
[Aside to her.
Jul. Their private businesses let them agree;
The Dutch for him, the Englishman for me.[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Perez.
Per. True, the reward proposed is great enough, I want it too; besides, this Englishman has never paid me since, as his lieutenant, I served him once against the Turk at sea; yet he confessed I did my duty well, when twice I cleared our decks; he has long promised me, but what are promises to starving men? this is his house, he may walk out this morning.
Enter a Page, and another Servant, walking by, not seeing him.
These belong to him; I’ll hide till they are past.
Serv. He sleeps soundly for a man who is to be married when he wakes.
Page. He does well to take his time; for he does not know, when he’s married, whether ever he shall have a sound sleep again.
Serv. He bid we should not wake him; but some of us, in good manners, should have staid, and not have left him quite alone.
Page. In good manners, I should indeed; but I’ll venture a master’s anger at any time for a mistress, and that’s my case at present.
Serv. I’ll tempt as great a danger as that comes to, for good old English fellowship; I am invited to a morning’s draught.
Page. Good-morrow, brother, good-morrow; by that time you have filled your belly, and I have emptied mine, it will be time to meet at home again.
[Exeunt severally.
Per. So, this makes well for my design; he’s left alone, unguarded, and asleep: Satan, thou art a bounteous friend, and liberal of occasions to do mischief; my pardon I have ready, if I am taken, my money half beforehand: up, Perez, rouse thy Spanish courage up; if he should wake, I think I dare attempt him; then my revenge is nobler, and revenge, to injured men, is full as sweet as profit.
[Exit.
SCENE II.
The Scene drawn, discovers Towerson asleep on a Couch in his Night-gown. A Table by him; Pen, Ink, and Paper on it.
Re-enter Perez with a Dagger.
Per. Asleep, as I imagined, and as fast as all the plummets of eternal night were hung upon his temples. Oh that some courteous dæmon, in the other world, would let him know, ’twas Perez sent him thither! A paper by him too! He little thinks it is his testament; the last he e’er shall make: I’ll read it first. [Takes it up.] Oh, by the inscription, ’tis a memorial of what he means to do this day: What’s here? My name in the first line! I’ll read it. [Reads.] Memorandum, That my first action this morning shall be, to find out my true and valiant lieutenant, captain Perez; and, as a testimony of my gratitude for his honourable services, to bestow on him five hundred English pounds, making my just excuse, I had it not before within my power to reward him. [Lays down the paper.] And was it then for this I sought his life? Oh base, degenerate Spaniard! Hadst thou done it, thou hadst been worse than damned: Heaven took more care of me, than I of him, to expose this paper to my timely view. Sleep on, thou honourable Englishman; I’ll sooner now pierce my own breast than thine: See, he smiles too in his slumber, as if his guardian angel, in a dream, told him, he was secure: I’ll give him warning though, to prevent danger from another hand.
[Writes on Towerson’s paper, then sticks his dagger in it.
Stick there, that when he wakens, he may know,
To his own virtue he his life does owe.[Exit Perez.
Towerson awakens.
Tow. I have o’erslept my hour this morning, if to enjoy a pleasing dream can be to sleep too long. Methought my dear Isabinda and myself were lying in an arbour, wreathed about with myrtle and with cypress; my rival Harman, reconciled again to his friendship, strewed us with flowers, and put on each a crimson-coloured garment, in which we straightway mounted to the skies; and with us, many of my English friends, all clad in the same robes. If dreams have any meaning, sure this portends some good. — What’s that I see! A dagger stuck into the paper of my memorials, and writ below — Thy virtue saved thy life! It seems some one has been within my chamber whilst I slept: Something of consequence hangs upon this accident. What, ho! who waits without? None answer me? Are ye all dead? What, ho!
Enter Beamont.
Beam. How is it, friend? I thought, entering your house, I heard you call.
Tow. I did, but as it seems without effect; none of my servants are within reach of my voice.
Beam. You seem amazed at somewhat?
Tow. A little discomposed: read that, and see if I have no occasion; that dagger was stuck there, by him who writ it.
Beam. I must confess you have too just a cause: I am myself surprised at an event so strange.
Tow. I know not who can be my enemy within this island, except my rival Harman; and for him, I truly did relate what passed betwixt us yesterday.
Beam. You bore yourself in that as it became you, as one who was a witness to himself of his own courage; and while, by necessary care of others, you were forced to decline fighting, shewed how much you did desp
ise the man who sought the quarrel: ’Twas base in him, so backed as he is here, to offer it, much more to press you to it.
Tow. I may find a foot of ground in Europe to tell the insulting youth, he better had provoked some other man; but sure I cannot think ’twas he who left that dagger there.
Beam. No, for it seems too great a nobleness of spirit, for one like him to practise: ’Twas certainly an enemy, who came to take your sleeping life; but thus to leave unfinished the design, proclaims the act no Dutchman’s.
Tow That time will best discover; I’ll think no further of it.
Beam. I confess you have more pleasing thoughts to employ your mind at present; I left your bride just ready for the temple, and came to call you to her.
Tow. I’ll straight attend you thither.
Enter Harman Sen. Fiscal, and Van Herring.
Fisc. Remember, sir, what I advised you; you must seemingly make up the business.
[To Har. Sen.
Har. Sen. I warrant you. — What, my brave bonny bridegroom, not yet dressed? You are a lazy lover; I must chide you.
[To Towerson.
Tow. I was just preparing.
Har. Sen. I must prevent part of the ceremony: You thought to go to her; she is by this time at the castle, where she is invited with our common friends; for you shall give me leave, if you so please, to entertain you both.
Tow. I have some reasons, why I must refuse the honour you intend me.
Har. Sen. You must have none: What! my old friend steal a wedding from me? In troth, you wrong our friendship.
Beam. [To him aside.] Sir, go not to the castle; you cannot, in honour, accept an invitation from the father, after an affront from the son.
Tow. Once more I beg your pardon, sir.
Har. Sen. Come, come, I know your reason of refusal, but it must not prevail: My son has been to blame; I’ll not maintain him in the least neglect, which he should show to any Englishman, much less to you, the best and most esteemed of all my friends.
Tow. I should be willing, sir, to think it was a young man’s rashness, or perhaps the rage of a successless rival; yet he might have spared some words.
Har. Sen. Friend, he shall ask your pardon, or I’ll no longer own him; what, ungrateful to a man, whose valour has preserved him? He shall do it, he shall indeed; I’ll make you friends upon your own conditions; he’s at the door, pray let him be admitted; this is a day of general jubilee.