Jerome. Well, I’ll try one course with thee at the half-pike, and then go: come, draw thy pike.
Stilt. That’s not your fit word; you must say, ‘advance your pike’, and you must be here sir, and here. You’ll never learn, for all my teaching.
Jerome. I have answered you, Stilt, that princes have no need to be taught, and I have e’en determined with myself, not to run at tilt, lest I hazard my horse and harness. Therefore I’ll to
20 the court, and only see my new cousin that they said was drowned, and then retire to my castle at Helsen, and there write a new poem that I have taken pains in, almost these ten years. It is in praise of picktooths.
Stilt. That will be excellent, my lord: the barbers will buy those poems abominably.
Jerome. Nay, sirrah, I’ll get a patent from the duke my father, for the cum privilegio for that poem Ad imprimendum solum; besides thou shalt have a privilege, that no man shall sell toothpicks without thy seal. My father says I am a fool,
30 but I think I bestow my time to look out for setting a new nap upon his threadbare commonwealth. Who’s that knocks? who dares disturb our honourable meditation? hark, Stilt, dost thou see no noise?
Stilt. No, but I hear a noise.
Jerome. A hall then: my father and my new cousin. Stand aside, that I may set my countenance. My beard-brush and mirror, Stilt, that set my countenance right to the Mirror of Knighthood, for your Mirror of Magistrates is somewhat too sober. How lik’st me?
40 Stilt. Oh excellent! here’s your casting-bottle.
Jerome. Sprinkle, good Stilt, sprinkle, for my late practice had brought me into strange favour. Ha, mother of me, thou hadst almost blinded the eyes of excellence; but omnia bene, let them approach now, and I appear not like a prince, let my father cashier me, as some say he will.
Stilt. cashier you? no, do but manage your body, and have here and here your congés, and then quid sequitur, Stilt knows, and all the court shall see.
Hautboys. Enter Ferdinand leading clois Hoffman; Mathias and lodowick leading lucibella; lorrique, with other lords attending. coming near the chair of state, Ferdinand ascends, places Hoffman at his feet, sets a coronet on his head. A Herald proclaims.
Herald. Ferdinand, by the divine grace Prince of Heidelberg,
50 Lord of Pomer, and Duke of Prussia, for sundry reasons him moving, the quiet state of his people especially, which, as a witless and insufficient prince, disinherits Jerome Heidelberg his known son, and adopteth Otho of luningberg his sister’s son as heir, immediately to succeed after his death in all his provinces. God save Duke Ferdinand and Otho his heir.
Flourish.
Ferdinand. Amen. Heaven witness how my heart is pleased,
With the conceit of Prussia’s after-peace,
By this election.
Jerome. Why? but hear you father –
Ferdinand. Away, disturb us not: let’s in and feast,
60 For all our country in our choice is blessed.
Flourish. Exeunt [all except Jerome and Stilt].
Jerome. Why, but Stilt: what’s now to be done, Stilt?
Stilt. Nay that’s more than I know: this matter will trouble us more than all your poem of picktooths. ’Snails, you were better be unknighted than unprinced. I have lost all my hope of preferment if this hold.
Jerome. No more, Stilt, I have it here: ’tis in my head, and out it shall not come, till red revenge in robes of fire and madding mischief run and rave. They say I am a fool, Stilt, but follow
70 me. I’ll seek out my notes of Machiavel; they say he’s an odd politician.
Stilt. I’faith he’s so odd, that he hath driven even honesty from all men’s hearts.
Jerome. Well, sword come forth, and courage enter in;
Breast break with grief, yet hold to be revenged;
Follow me, Stilt: widows unborn shall weep,
And beardless boys with armour on their backs
Shall bear us out. Stilt, we will tread on stilts
Through the purple pavement of the court,
Which shall be – let me see, what shall it be?
80 No court, but even a cave of misery.
There’s an excellent speech Stilt, follow me, pursue me: we’ll acquire
And either die or compass my desire.
Stilt. Oh brave master, not a lord? O, Stilt will stalk, and make the earth a stage,
But he will have thee lord in spite of rage.
Exeunt.
[Act 2
Scene 2
Enter [Rodorick] and Austria’s Duke; some followers.
Rodorick. Sir, since you are content, you here shall find,
A sparing supper, but a bounteous mind:
Bad lodging, but a heart as free and generous,
As that which is fed with generous blood.
Austria. Your hermitage is furnished for a prince.
Rodorick. last night this roof covered the sacred heads
Of five most noble, fair and gracious princes:
Duke Ferdinand himself, and Otho his nephew,
The sons of Saxon, and the Austrian princess.
10 Austria. Oh God! that girl which fled my court and love,
Making love colour for her heedless flight.
Rodorick. Pardon, great prince: are you the Austrian duke?
Austria. Hermit, I am: Saxon’s proud wanton sons
Were entertained like Priam’s firebrand
At Sparta: all our state gladly appeared
Like cheerful lacademons, to receive
Those demons that with magic of their tongues
Bewitched my lucibel, my Helen’s ears.
Knocking and calling within.
Rodorick. Who travelleth so late? Who knocks so hard?
20 Turn to the east end of the chapel, pray;
We are ready to attend you.
Enter the Duke of Saxony.
Saxony. Which is the way to Dantzig?
Rodorick. There is no way to Dantzig you can find
Without a guide thus late: come near, I pray.
Saxony. look to our horses. By your leave, master hermit,
We are soon bidden, and will prove bold guests.
God save you, sir.
Austria. That should be Saxon’s tongue.
Saxony. Indeed, I am the duke of Saxony.
30 Austria. Then art thou father to lascivious sons,
That have made Austria childless.
Saxony. O subtle duke, thy craft appears in framing thy excuse,
Thou dost accuse my young sons’ innocence.
I sent them to get knowledge, learn the tongues,
Not to be metamorphized with the view
Of flattering beauty, peradventure painted.
Austria. No! I defy thee, John of Saxony:
My lucibel for beauty needs no art,
Nor do I think the virtues of her mind
40 Ever inclined to this ignoble course
But by the charms and forcings of thy sons.
Saxony. Oh, would thou dur’st maintain thy words proud duke.
[They draw their swords.]
Rodorick. I hope, great princes, neither of you dare
commit a deed so sacrilegious. This holy cell
Is dedicated to the son of peace:
The foot of war never profaned this floor,
Nor doth wrath here with his consuming voice
Affright these buildings; charity with prayer,
Humility with abstinence combined,
50 And here the guardians of a grieved mind.
Austria. Father, we obey thy holy voice.
Duke John of Saxony, receive thy faith;
Till our ears hear the true course thy sons
Have taken with my fond and misled child.
I proclaim truce. Why dost thou sullen stand?
If thou mean peace, give me thy princely hand.
Saxony. Thus do I plight thee troth, and promise peace.
Austria. Nay, but thy eyes agree not with t
hy heart.
In vows of combination, there’s a grace
60 That shows the intention in the outward face
Look cheerfully, or I expect no league.
Saxony. First give me leave to view a while the person
Of this hermit. Austria, note him well.
Is he not like my brother Rodorick?
Austria. He’s like him, but I heard he lost his life
Long since in Persia, by the Sophy’s wars.
Rodorick. I heard so much, my lords, but that report
Was purely feigned, spread by my erring tongue,
As double as my heart, when I was young.
70 I am that Rodorick that aspired your throne;
That vile false brother who with rebel breath,
Drawn sword, and treacherous heart, threatened your death.
Saxony. My brother! nay, then i’faith, old John, lay by
Thy sorrowing thoughts, turn to thy wonted vein,
And be mad John of Saxony again.
Mad Rodorick, art alive? My mother’s son,
Her joy and her last birth; oh, she conjured me
To use thee thus, and yet I banished thee.
Body of me, I was unkind, I know,
80 But thou deserv’st it then. But let it go.
Say thou wilt leave this life thus truly idle,
And live a statesman: thou shalt share in reign,
commanding all but me, thy sovereign,
Rodorick. I thank your highness: I will think on it,
But for my sins this sufferance is more fit.
Saxony. Tut, tittle-tattle: tell not me of sin.
Now, Austria: once again, thy princely hand.
I’ll look thee in the face, and smile and swear:
If any of my sons have wronged thy child,
90 I’ll help thee in revenging it myself;
But if, as I believe, they mean but honour,
As it appeareth by these jousts proclaimed,
Then thou shalt be content to name him thine,
And thy fair daughter I’ll account as mine.
Austria. Agreed.
Saxony. Ah Austria! ’Twas a world when you and I
Ran these careers, but now we are stiff and dry.
Austria. I am glad you are so pleasant, my good lord.
Saxony. ’Twas my old mood, but I was soon turned sad
100 With over-grieving for this long-lost lad.
And now the boy is grown as old as I,
His very face as full of gravity.
Rodorick. Please your graces enter.
I know the servants that attend on me
By the appointment of Duke Ferdinand
By this have covered.
Saxony. Why then let’s in: brother, I trust, and brother,
Hold you this hand; Rodorick, hold thou the other.
By heaven my heart with happiness is crowned,
110 In that my long-lost brother now is found. Exeunt.
[Act 2
Scene 3
Enter clois Hoffman solus.
Hoffman. So run on fate, my destinies are good.
Revenge hath made me great by shedding blood.
I am supposed the heir of luningberg,
By which I am of Prussia prince-elect.
Good: who is wronged by this? only a fool:
And ’tis not fit that idiots should bear rule.
Enter lorrique.
Lorrique. My lord, I have as you enjoined, enticed Saxon’s elder son to talk with you, and here he comes with his most excellent, amorous, and admirable lady.
10 Hoffman. Hast thou the hermit’s weeds for my disguise?
Lorrique. All ready, fit; fit in the next chamber. Your beard is point-vice, not a hair amiss.
Hoffman. Faithful lorrique in thy unfaithfulness:
I kiss thy cheek, and give thee in that kiss
The moiety of an earthly bliss.Exit.
Lorrique. Good: I am half a monarch, half a fiend.
Blood I begun in and in blood must end.
Yet this clois is an honest villain, has conscience in his killing
20 of men; he kills none but his father’s enemies, and their issue.
’Tis admirable, ’tis excellent, ’tis well, ’tis meritorious: where? in heaven? no, hell.
Enter lodowick and lucibella.
Lodowick. Now friend, where is Prince Otho?
Lorrique. Sad, sir, and grieved.
Lucibella. Why? prithee why?
Lorrique. Alas, I know not why.
The hermit Rodorick talked with him
Somewhat of you, and somewhat of the duke,
About surprising you and murdering lodowick:
Or such a thing, nay sure ’twas such a thing.
30 Lucibella. Surprising me and murdering lodowick?
Lodowick. By whom? by what complot?
Lorrique. Sure, by the duke; the duke’s an odd old lad.
I know this night there’s set a double guard,
And there’s some trick in that: but patience –
Here comes the hermit, holy reverent man.
Enter clois Hoffman like a hermit.
Somewhat important wings his aged feet
With speedy nimbleness: heaven grant that all be well.
Hoffman. Princes, in pity of your youth, your love,
Your virtues, and what not that may move ruth,
40 I offer you the tender of our lives,
Which yet you may preserve; but if you stay,
Death and destruction waiteth your delay.
Lodowick. Who had conspired our deaths? speak, reverent man.
Hoffman. The duke of Prussia, doting on this face –
Worthy indeed of wonder, being so fair –
This night hath plotted, first to murder you.
The guard are set that you may not escape,
Within, without, and round about the court;
Only one way, through Prince Otho his lodging
50 Is left: here is the key, and for more proof
Of my great zeal and care, on with these robes.
Within are Grecian habits for your heads.
Nay, if you love life do not stand amazed,
But take the path towards my hermitage.
Yet I advise you, that you go not in;
There may be plots too, for aught I know;
But turn down by the river; there’s a way
Leads to a little chapel. In that porch
Stay, till I visit you with better news.
60 Lodowick. I will but call my brother, and then go.
Hoffman. That were a going never to return:
I’ll send him after you, be well assured.
Lucibella. Oh God! the duke of Prussia grown thus false,
Such shows of friendship and so little faith!
Lodowick. come, lucibella: let’s embrace this mean.
Duke Ferdinand shall with a sorrowing heart
Repent this base dishonourable plot.
Father, our fortunes if they sort aright,
Shall with continual thankfulness requite
70 This virtuous and this charitable care.
Farewell: we’ll wait thee in the chapel porch.
Bring Prince Mathias, our kind brother, thither.
And thou shalt add good works to charity.
Once more farewell, lorrique; that’s for thee,
commend me to thy lord, tell him this wrong
Of his false uncle, shall meet full revenge,
But do to him our duties. come chaste, fair:
We must not now by tilt and tournament
Maintain thy honour, for thy champion knight
80 Is forced by treason to unwilling flight.
Exit [lucibella and lodowick].
Hoffman. So run to mischief. Oh my dear lorrique!
When I have summed up my account of death,
And robbed those fathers of their lives and joy
That robbed me of my joy, my fath
er’s life,
Thus thy hand clasped in mine, we’ll walk and meditate,
And boast in the revenges I have wrought.
That done, I’ll seat thee by my throne of state,
And make thee rival in those governments,
That by thy secrecy thou lift’st me to.
90 Shalt be a duke at least.
Lorrique. I thank your grace, but pray resolve me
What you now intend
To these three Princes lodowick and Mathias,
And the thrice beauteous Princess lucibel?
Hoffman. Death, certain. call in Mathias: if my plot prove good,
I’ll make one brother shed the other’s blood.
Lorrique. I am nimble as your thought, devise, I’ll execute what you command.
Exit.
Hoffman. A precious villain, a good villain too.
100 Well if he be no worse – that is, do worse,
And honey me in my death-stinging thoughts –
I will prefer him: he shall be preferred
To hanging, peradventure. Why not? ’tis well
Enter lorrique.
His sufferance here may save his soul from hell.
He comes. What news my faithful servant? Where’s the prince?
Lorrique. He’s talking with the lady lucibel,
And when I said your highness sent for him,
He ’gan with courtly salutations,
To take his leave and to attend your grace.
110 Hoffman. Well God-a-mercy friend, thou got’st me grace:
But more of that at leisure. Take this gown:
My cloak, a chair. I must turn melancholy.
[Takes off hermit disguise.]
Enter Mathias.
Second whate’er I say: approve my words,
That we may move Mathias to mad rage.
Mathias. God save your excellence. What, sad, dull, heavy?
Or are you now in meditation
Which part to take tomorrow at the tilt?
The mead is ringed with tents of stranger knights,
Whose rich devices and caparisons
120 Exceed the Persian monarch’s, when he met
Destruction and pale death sent from the sword
Of Philip’s son, and his stout Macedons.
cheerly Prince Otho, there’s such a warlike sight
That would stir up a leaden heart to fight.
Hoffman. For what?
Mathias. For honour and fair lucibel.
Hoffman. Oh Prince Mathias! It is ill-combined
When honour is with fickle beauty joined.
Where is your most princely brother?
130 Mathias. I cannot tell: I left him with his loved lucibel.
Five Revenge Tragedies: The Spanish Tragedy, Hamlet, Antonio's Revenge, The Tragedy of Hoffman, The Revenger's Tragedy (Penguin Classics) Page 26