Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker

by Thomas Dekker

  Car. Thou’dst best confess all truly.

  M. Saw. Yet again?

  Have I scarce breath enough to say my prayers,

  And would you force me to spend that in bawling?

  Bear witness, I repent all former evil;

  There is no damnèd conjuror like the devil.

  All. Away with her, away! [She is led off.

  Enter Frank to execution, Officers, &c.

  O. Thor. Here’s the sad object which I yet must meet

  With hope of comfort, if a repentant end

  Make him more happy than misfortune would

  Suffer him here to be.

  Frank. Good sirs, turn from me:

  You will revive affliction almost killed

  With my continual sorrow.

  O. Thor. O, Frank, Frank!

  Would I had sunk in mine own wants, or died

  But one bare minute ere thy fault was acted!

  Frank. To look upon your sorrows executes me

  Before my execution.

  Win. Let me pray you, sir —

  Frank. Thou much-wronged woman, I must sigh for thee,

  As he that’s only loth to leave the world

  For that he leaves thee in it unprovided,

  Unfriended; and for me to beg a pity

  From any man to thee when I am gone

  Is more than I can hope; nor, to say truth,

  Have I deserved it: but there is a payment

  Belongs to goodness from the great exchequer

  Above; it will not fail thee, Winnifred;

  Be that thy comfort.

  O. Thor. Let it be thine too,

  Untimely-lost young man.

  Frank. He is not lost

  Who bears his peace within him: had I spun

  My web of life out at full length, and dreamed

  Away my many years in lusts, in surfeits,

  Murders of reputations, gallant sins

  Commended or approved; then, though I had

  Died easily, as great and rich men do,

  Upon my own bed, not compelled by justice,

  You might have mourn’d for me indeed; my miseries

  Had been as everlasting as remediless:

  But now the law hath not arraigned, condemned

  With greater rigour my unhappy fact

  Than I myself have every little sin

  My memory can reckon from my childhood:

  A court hath been kept here, where I am found

  Guilty; the difference is, my impartial judge

  Is much more gracious than my faults

  Are monstrous to be named; yet they are monstrous.

  O. Thor. Here’s comfort in this penitence.

  Win. It speaks

  How truly you are reconciled, and quickens

  My dying comfort, that was near expiring

  With my last breath: now this repentance makes thee

  As white as innocence; and my first sin with thee,

  Since which I knew none like it, by my sorrow

  Is clearly cancelled. Might our souls together

  Climb to the height of their eternity,

  And there enjoy what earth denied us, happiness!

  But since I must survive, and be the monument

  Of thy loved memory, I will preserve it

  With a religious care, and pay thy ashes

  A widow’s duty, calling that end best

  Which, though it stain the name, makes the soul blest.

  Frank. Give me thy hand, poor woman; do not weep.

  Farewell: thou dost forgive me?

  Win. ’Tis my part

  To use that language.

  Frank. O, that my example

  Might teach the world hereafter what a curse

  Hangs on their heads who rather choose to marry

  A goodly portion than a dower of virtues! —

  Are you there, gentlemen? there is not one

  Amongst you whom I have not wronged; [to Carter] you most:

  I robbed you of a daughter; but she is

  In Heaven; and I must suffer for it willingly.

  Car. Ay, ay, she’s in Heaven, and I am so glad to see thee so well prepared to follow her. I forgive thee with all my heart; if thou hadst not had ill counsel, thou wouldst not have done as thou didst; the more shame for them.

  Som. Spare your excuse to me, I do conceive

  What you would speak; I would you could as easily

  Make satisfaction to the law as to my wrongs.

  I am sorry for you.

  War. And so am I,

  And heartily forgive you.

  Kath. I will pray for you

  For her sake, who I’m sure did love you dearly.

  Sir Arth. Let us part friendly too; I am ashamed

  Of my part in thy wrongs.

  Frank. You are all merciful,

  And send me to my grave in peace. Sir Arthur,

  Heaven send you a new heart! — Lastly, to you, sir;

  And though I have deserved not to be called

  Your son, yet give me leave upon my knees

  To beg a blessing. [Kneels.

  O. Thor. Take it; let me wet

  Thy cheeks with the last tears my griefs have left me.

  O, Frank, Frank, Frank!

  Frank. Let me beseech you, gentlemen,

  To comfort my old father, keep him with ye;

  Love this distressèd widow; and as often

  As you remember what a graceless man

  I was, remember likewise that these are

  Both free, both worthy of a better fate

  Than such a son or husband as I have been.

  All help me with your prayers. — On, on; ’tis just

  That law should purge the guilt of blood and lust. [Exit, led off by the Officers.

  Car. Go thy ways; I did not think to have shed one tear for thee, but thou hast made me water my plants spite of my heart. — Master Thorney, cheer up, man; whilst I can stand by you, you shall not want help to keep you from falling: we have lost our children, both on’s, the wrong way, but we cannot help it; better or worse, ’tis now as ’tis.

  O. Thor. I thank you, sir; you are more kind than I

  Have cause to hope or look for.

  Car. Master Somerton, is Kate yours or no?

  Som. We are agreed.

  Kath. And but my faith is passed, I should fear to be married, husbands are so cruelly unkind. Excuse me that I am thus troubled.

  Som. Thou shalt have no cause.

  Just. Take comfort, Mistress Winnifred: Sir Arthur,

  For his abuse to you and to your husband,

  Is by the bench enjoined to pay you down

  A thousand marks.

  Sir Arth. Which I will soon discharge.

  Win. Sir, ’tis too great a sum to be employed

  Upon my funeral.

  Car. Come, come; if luck had served, Sir Arthur, and every man had his due, somebody might have tottered ere this, without paying fines, like it as you list. — Come to me, Winnifred; shalt be welcome. — Make much of her, Kate, I charge you: I do not think but she’s a good wench, and hath had wrong as well as we. So let’s every man home to Edmonton with heavy hearts, yet as merry as we can, though not as we would.

  Just. Join, friends, in sorrow; make of all the best:

  Harms past may be lamented, not redrest. [Exeunt.

  EPILOGUE

  Spoken by Winnifred.

  I am a widow still, and must not sort

  A second choice without a good report;

  Which though some widows find, and few deserve,

  Yet I dare not presume, but will not swerve

  From modest hopes. All noble tongues are free;

  The gentle may speak one kind word for me.

  Phen.

  The Virgin-Martyr (1622)

  In collaboration with Philip Massinger

  The Virgin-Martyr was first performed at The Red Bull Theatre in October 1620, before being entered into the Stationers’ Reg
ister in December that year and published in quarto format in 1622. In an account of the licensing of the play by the Master of Revels, George Buck, there is a reference to the ‘new reforming’ of the work, which some scholars have interpreted to mean that it was originally censored and subsequently required a second reading before it was approved. It was reportedly popular with Jacobean audiences and it also enjoyed a spell of high esteem during the Restoration period. The play is a collaboration between Dekker and Philip Massinger, who attended Oxford University before leaving in 1606 without a degree and heading to London to try to find work as a dramatist. Massinger does not appear to have found immediate success as a playwright, but by the 1620’s he had established himself and was writing for the King’s Men. Massinger’s plays often deal with moral, religious and political issues, often resulting with issues of censorship.

  The Virgin-Martyr is a tragedy that has also been classified a ‘saint’s play’ or tragedia sacra, which was a genre of drama popular in Catholic countries during the Counter-Reformation, but rarely seen in Protestant England. The play centres on the fourth century ‘virgin-martyr’, Dorothea of Caesarea, who, according to legend, was executed during the Diocletianic Persecution. The plot is set during the reign of pagan Emperor Diocletian and follows Theophilus, the chief persecutor of Christians, as he attempts to convert Dorothea to paganism, before torturing and killing her. Massinger’s religion has been a frequently debated subject, with some critics speculating that he was Catholic, based primarily on the content of three of his plays: The Virgin-Martyr, The Renegado and The Maid of Honour. These plays are probably not sufficient evidence to assert that he must have been Roman Catholic, but they certainly reveal a willingness to portray Catholicism sympathetically, which was rare in England at that time.

  The playwright Philip Massinger

  CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

  ACT I.

  SCENE I.

  ACT II.

  SCENE I.

  SCENE II.

  SCENE III.

  ACT III.

  SCENE I.

  SCENE II.

  ACT IV.

  SCENE I.

  SCENE II.

  ACT V.

  SCENE I.

  SCENE II.

  A depiction of Dorothea of Caesarea by Francisco de Zurbarán, c. 1650

  INTRODUCTION

  THIS VERY BEAUTIFUL play, one of Massinger’s earliest and most popular works, was first printed in 1622, but we have no account when it was first produced. In the composition of it he was assisted by Decker, a dramatist of no mean reputation.

  The plot of this tragedy is founded on the tenth and last general persecution of the Christians, which broke out in the nineteenth year of Dioclesian’s reign with a fury hard to be expressed; the Christians being every where, without distinction of age, sex, or condition, dragged to execution, and subjected to the most exquisite torments that rage, cruelty, and hatred could suggest.

  In the construction of their play, Massinger and his associate Decker appear to have conceived the idea of combining the prominent parts of the old Mystery with the Morality, which was not yet obliterated from the memories, nor perhaps from the affections, of many of the spectators. Among the many instances of skill displayed by the authors of The Virgin-Martyr in the management of their materials may be remarked the dexterity and good taste with which they have avoided the untimely concurrence of the good and evil spirit; an error into which Tasso and others of greater name than Massinger have inadvertently fallen. — Of the character of the heroine it is impossible to speak too highly: her genuine and dignified piety, her unsullied innocence, her unshaken constancy, her lofty pity for her persecutors, her calm contempt of torture, and her heroic death, exalt the mind in no ordinary degree. All the other parts are subordinate to her, and require little observation. Antoninus is brave and generous, and we sympathize with his genuine attachment for Dorothea. Calista and Christeta, hasty, self-confident, readily promising for their steadiness, soon forgetting their resolutions, and equally secure in every change of opinion, are well contrasted with the heroine of the piece, whose fixed principles always guard her against rashness, and therefore preserve her from contradiction. Artemia’s love for Antoninus would be wholly without interest, if we were not moved for a moment by her indignation at the rejection of her offer; and we see her at length consigned to Maximinus with as little emotion as is shown by themselves.

  The introduction of a good and evil spirit disguised in human shapes was not to be expected in a work aspiring to the reputation of a regular tragedy: still, whatever be their departure from propriety, it must be remembered that such representations had a most solemn origin, and that the business in which the spirits are engaged has a substantial conformity with the opinions of the early ages in which the plot is laid. The opposition of the demons to the progress of the faith, and the reasoning and raillery which Dorothea expresses, under the influence of Angelo, against the pagan gods, are to be found in Justin, Tatian, Arnobius, and others. The separate agency of the spirits, and the consequence of their personal encounter, are also described in a characteristic manner.

  Apart from Angelo, Harpax seems to advance in his malignant work. When the daughters of Theophilus express their zeal for paganism, he “grows fat to see his labours prosper;” yet he cannot look forward to the defeat of those labours in their approaching conversion, though on some occasions we find he could “see a thousand leagues” in his master’s service. And this agrees with the doctrine, that when some signal triumph of the faith was at hand, the evil spirits were abridged of their usual powers. Again, when Harpax expects to meet Angelo, he thus expresses the dread of his presence, and the effect which it afterwards produced on him:

  “ ———— I do so hate his sight, That, should I look on him, I should sink down.” Act II. sc. 2.

  And this, too, perfectly agrees with the power attributed to the superior spirits of quelling the demons by those indications of their quality which were not to be perceived by mortals: per occultissimæ signa præsentiæ, quæ angelicis sensibus etiam malignorum spirituum, potius quam infirmitati hominum, possunt esse perspicua. Civ. Dei, lib. ix.

  The tragedy is too full of horrors; but this is a fault of which our ancestors were very tolerant.

  DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

  Emperors of Rome:

  Dioclesian,

  Maximinus,

  King of Pontus.

  King of Epire.

  King of Macedon.

  Sapritius, Governor of Cæsarea.

  Theophilus, a zealous persecutor of the Christians.

  Sempronius, captain of Sapritius’ guards.

  Antoninus, son to Sapritius.

  Macrinus, friend to Antoninus.

  Harpax, an evil spirit, following Theophilus in the shape of a secretary.

  Angelo, a good spirit, serving Dorothea in the habit of a page.

  Servants of Theophilus.:

  Julianus,

  Geta

  ,

  Priest of Jupiter.

  British Slave.

  Artemia, daughter to Dioclesian.

  Daughters to Theophilus.:

  Calista,

  Christeta,

  Dorothea, the Virgin-Martyr.

  Officers and Executioners.

  SCENE, Cæsarea.

  ACT I.

  SCENE I.

  THE GOVERNOR’S PALACE.

  Enter Theophilus and Harpax.

  Theoph. Come to Cæsarea to-night!

  Harp. Most true, sir.

  Theoph. The emperor in person!

  Harp. Do I live?

  Theoph. ’Tis wondrous strange! The marches of great princes,

  Like to the motions of prodigious meteors,

  Are step by step observed; and loud-tongued Fame

  The harbinger to prepare their entertainment:

  And, were it possible so great an army,

  Though cover’d with th
e night, could be so near,

  The governor cannot be so unfriended

  Among the many that attend his person,

  But, by some secret means, he should have notice

  Of Cæsar’s purpose; — in this, then, excuse me,

  If I appear incredulous.

  Harp. At your pleasure.

  Theoph. Yet, when I call to mind you never fail’d me

  In things more difficult, but have discover’d

  Deeds that were done thousand leagues distant from me,

  When neither woods, nor caves, nor secret vaults,

  No, nor the Power they serve, could keep these Christians

  Or from my reach or punishment, but thy magic

  Still laid them open; I begin again

  To be as confident as heretofore;

  It is not possible thy powerful art

  Should meet a check, or fail.

  Enter the Priest of Jupiter, bearing an Image, and followed by Calista and Christeta.

  Harp. Look on the Vestals,

  The holy pledges that the gods have given you,

  Your chaste, fair daughters. Were ‘t not to upbraid

  A service to a master not unthankful,

  I could say these, in spite of your prevention,

  Seduced by an imagined faith, not reason,

  (Which is the strength of nature) quite forsaking

  The Gentile gods, had yielded up themselves

  To this new-found religion. This I cross’d,

  Discover’d their intents, taught you to use,

  With gentle words and mild persuasions,

  The power and the authority of a father,

  Set off with cruel threats; and so reclaim’d them:

  And, whereas they with torment should have died,

  (Hell’s furies to me, had they undergone it!)

  [Aside.

  They are now votaries in great Jupiter’s temple,

  And, by his priest instructed, grown familiar

  With all the mysteries, nay, the most abstruse ones,

  Belonging to his deity.

  Theoph. ’Twas a benefit,

  For which I ever owe you. — Hail, Jove’s flamen!