Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
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A11435
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The vow breaker. Or, The faire maide of Clifton In Notinghamshire as it hath beene diuers times acted by severall companies with great applause. By William Sampson.
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Sampson, William, 1590?-1636.
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1636
(1636)
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STC 21688; ESTC S116468
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39,274
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76
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I will enjoy thee yet I have not curs'd thee yet remember that And when th' ast staind thy innocent sheetes with lust And with saciety fild thy empty veines Weari'd the night with wanton dalliances More prime then Goates or Monkeys in their prides Call then to minde how pleasant this had bene Had it not bene adulterate for German Is not thy husband t is Bateman is the best I have not curs'd thee yet remember that I 'le muster up the forces of a man To quench the rising flames that harbor here And if I can forget thee by my hopes I will And never curse the Auth'resse of my ill I have not curs'd thee yet now remember Alive or dead t is I that must enjoy thee Exeunt Enter Vrsula Vrs. By my virginity the Groome cryes to bed night goes to Goast how now another Niobe turn'd to stone blesse me has the Conjurer bene here Y. Ba. Alive or dead I must and will enjoy thee It was my promise I cannot chuse but weepe I have not curs'd thee yet remember that Vrs. Hey day what inundations are here will you come away and the Groome should geld himselfe for anger there would be fine sport An. I have lost my selfe and know not where I am Enter Boote Bo. Come come I have daunc'd till every joynt about me growes stiffe but that which should be to bed wench the groome he 's out-gone thee he 's warming the sheetes the first night I faith An. To bed oh heavens would it were to my grave So I might never here of my misdeedes I have not curs'd thee yet remember that Alive or dead I must and will enjoy thee How like the deadly towling of a Bell A peale of sadd presages were his words Bo. Ha weeping this is not customary on bridall-nights Neece who was with your Cuz too night Vrs. Vncle there was a certaine man Bo. I I but where is that certaine man Vrs. There is the woman but the certaine man is gon An. A certaine man indeede for whom I now Could weepe a Sea to wash out my pollutions Bo. But nimble Chaps tongue Trotter Neats-Toung Mrs Magpy What was this certaine man called Vrs. With reverence Vncle his name was Bateman Bo. An undermining Knave I will indite him For daring to set foote upon my ground This day his father hath arrested me Vpon an action of a thousand poundes A precontract betwixt his son and thee To bed my wench Bateman shall surely finde Me master of my words when his proves winde Ex. Omnes Enter Mortigue meeting Clifton Clif. Thou keepst thy promise Mortigue Mor. In all things as befits a man of worth Thou hast abus'd my princely mistris name Sully'd her royalties with infamies And from thy throat as from a Serpents chaps Belch'd poysons 'gainst the Dowager of France To prove these false I made this sally forth Onely to combate thee Clif. By my Hollidam I 'me glad I 've wak'd thy temper The end still finds it selfe in every act And so shalt thou in thy presumptuous braves The honour of my mistris makes me young Her name shootes majesty into my lookes Valour into my hart strength to this arme Which thou shalt feele to thunder on thy Helme Guard thee Frenchman i 'me sure thou canst not fly Bravely I 'le kill thee or else bravely dy Th' art my prisoner Doysells Fight Clifton disarmes him Enter Grey Arguile Souldiers Mor. Through chance of warre I am Arg. Hew him in peeces Clif. By my Hollidam My life shall stand betweene him and danger He 's my prisoner and by the Law of Armes Yeilding himselfe a Captive to our mercy His life is ransomable let our Generall Decree his ransome and after dispose of him Gr. Noble Clifton his ransome is thine owne Dispose of him as thou pleasest Clif. By my Hollidam and will There take thy Armes returne backe to Leith With our best convoy I tell thee Mortigue My hatred is not capitall though honour And warrs necessity made me storme When to these walls thou seest my white coates come With scaling ladders to assault the Towne Be mercifull as I have bin to thee This is all Cliftons ransome Mor. I shall report thee noble Gr. Thanks noble Clifton Thou still ad'st honour to thy Countries fame Make scaling Ladders for we straight intend By heavens assistance to mount these walls Courage brave spirits every act finds end Wee le teach the Frenchman keepe within his bounds Or send him home full of heroicke wounds Exeunt Omnes Young Bateman in s shirt a halter about his necke Y. Ba. It t is resolv'd life is too burthensome I 've borne while I can and have supprest All insurrections pale Death has made It is my terrour that I live to thinke I beare a life that is offensive to me Pale monster in thy meagerest aspect Come and affront me fill thy unpauncht nerves With my harts bloud till with the overture Thy never satisfied maw be sated But cowardly monster thou approchest none But those that fly thee and like to greatnes Wouldst be so elivated for doing good That of thy selfe thou never didst intend Poore Snakes that are in worldly sorrowes sowrst Cannot participate thy Ebon Dart T is said thou art not partiall and dost winde The Prince the begger and the potentate All in one mould but they doe falsifie That say thou art so tiranously just For I have sought thee through the unpend groves The shady cells where melancholly walkes And eccho-like thou answerst me with Death But darst not show thy face the worlds monarch In three fits of an Ague di'd Some flyes Some silly gnats can kill let me consume then maist thou brag thy conquest that thou slewst What neyther love nor hatred could destroy Since thou disdainst me I disdaine thy power There be a thousand waies to cozen Death Behold a Tree just at her doore a fruitlesse Tree That has in autumne cast her leavy boughs Sorry to show such fruit as she produces The night seemes silent sleepe charmes the house And now the periurd woman is a topping I 'le clime as high as she yet I 'le not rest My airy ghoast shall find her where she lyes And to her face divulge her perjuries Night be auspicious draw thy sable weedes For day-light is a asham'd of her blacke deeds One twich will do 't and then I shall be wed As firme unto my grave as to her bed Falls hangs Enter old Bateman in s shirt Torch O. Ba. I 've miss'd my boy out of his bed to night Heavens grant that he be well for in his eyes Sad discontentment sits till yesterday I never saw him so propense to sorrow Nor deepely touch'd with distemperature When I began to tell him of his mistris Which I in violence of wordes branded With damned perjury as Heaven knowes She has consum'd her goodnes then would he Sit by and sigh and with salt teares trilling Downe his cheekes entreat me not to name her Curse
her I must not I then would he steale to bed As full of mournfull sorrowes as a sinner T is almost morne and I suspect him here Hovering about this house oft would he say He woo'd her underneath a Plume-Tree And underneath that Tree he vow'd to sit And tell his sorrowes to the gummy boughes Though she disdaind to here them protect me Good Angells guard me what heavy sight is this That like a sullen sadnes reaves my sense Prove false mine eies that this may prove untrue Better you never had seene then to see this Leave your slimy cesternes and drop out T is he t is he would I could tell a ly The falsest one that e're was tould by man That this might prove untrue but t is in vaine To darke the Sunne or wrastle 'gainst the truth Murtherers looke out I 'le rowze the thunderer To rowze you from your sleepes false feinds come out And see a deede the day wil be asham'd of Caus'd by your perjuries Bo. Whoe 's that which calls Boote Anne Vrsula above With horrid terrour and such affrightments As when skath fires devast our vilages O. Ba. Looke this way monster see thou adultresse Behold the miserablest Map of woe That ever father mourn'd for my poore boy Hard-harted fate that brought thee to this end Hated Vipers they that were the causers Bo. How darst thou Bateman come upon my ground O. Ba. Curs'd be thy ground and curs'd be all trees That brings forth such abortive fruit as this Bo. Ha ha has he hang'd himselfe and sav'd justice a labor An. I never look'd for better end of him he had a malevolent aspect in his lookes ha ha ha O. Ba. Laughst thou Crocadile Are miseries lamented with contempts The bookes of fate are not so closely shut But they may open and record the scornes Dwelling in every Region of thy face A fixt decree may be set downe for thine And thou maist Swan-like sing a Funerall O'de Who then shall laugh at thee Bo. I laugh to see how well sorrow becomes thee O. Ba. Such dire becomings maist thou never want Thou that wert once the Jewell of these eies Looke here and see the ruines of pale death How soone a Gorgeous Pallace is suncke downe Though he has surfetted upon this peece He has not tane the colour of his cheeke Nature contests with death and will out-doe him Canst not thou spare one teare to balme him in Nor lend a sigh as sorry for his fall If not to day I 'le come againe to morrow So thou wilt shed two teares and one poore sigh Then gentle Charon will assigne him wafftage Thy greifes are violent and worke within T is a fowle signe of an unpersant hart When as the eyes cannot impart a teare Since none of you will weepe I 'le weepe alone Till Niobe like my teares convert to stone An. Had you disciplind your sonne in 's youth You might then have prevented your teares Cause he was bad and I did shun his evils Must I be held the cause'res of his ils Must my vertues beget his perversnes Or my obedience breede his shamefull death If the World ballance me uprightly just I care not then which way you turne the Scales O. Ba. Worse then the worst that ever could be nam'd An. My best counsell is that you bury him as the custome of the Country is and drive a stacke through him so perhaps I that had no quietnes with him whil'st he liv'd may sleepe in peace now he 's dead O. Bat. I will not curse thee t' was my boyes request Such deedes as these sinke not in oblivion The justnes of my cause I leave to Heaven Maist thou live mother of many children And may they prosper better then did mine Come poore boy these armes have borne thee oft I 'le have thy picture hung up in my Chamber And when I want thee I will weepe to that Deaths Leaden Plummets draw thine eielids downe Since none will sing sadd obsequies but I I 'le call the Linnet Red-brest and the Throsle The Nightingale shall beare the burthen two For she is exsquisite in tragicke notes Wee le have a Funerall hymne and o're thy herse This womans perjuiries I 'le pen in verse Enter An. How now cozen weeping Vrs. Troth Cozen Though griefes of lower kinds assaile me not I never was so touch'd unto the hart Mine eies so flexible are to melt in teares I cannot stop 'em I shall be still affraid To walke to 'th doore when I behold this Tree For feare his Ghost haunte me I wonder much You could forbeare from passionating An. Affraid on 's Ghost as much as of a picture painted o' th wall that 's just like we fooles that rub our shins 'gainst the bed posts in our dreames and then sweare the faries pinchd us he swore he would have me quicke or dead Let him ly still in 's grave I will in my bed and let consequents prove the rest Bo. Ghosts Hobgoblins will with wispe or Dicke a Tues-day Thy husband wench this morne journyes to New-Castle And hardly will returne these twelve Moones Let 's feast with him for Ghosts and such like toyes Leave them to foolish dotards girles and boyes Exeunt Omnes Actus Tertius Scena Prima Enter Anne hastily pursuing Vrsula with lights An. Keepe of keepe backe I charge thee Vrs. Las cozen i 'me not infectious my breath cannot blast you An. It haunts me as my shaddow or a vision It will not let me rest sleepe nor eat The barricoded doores and iron locks No sooner shut but like a new clasp'd booke Their leavy hindges streightway fall asunder And it gets in I wonder t is not here This is a gentle respit and not usuall Since German went I never had so much It plaies the centinnell at my beds feete And but it wants the rosie coloured face Whom meager death has plaid the Horse-Leech with It would not seeme so ghostly in these eies It beares the perfect forme it us'd to doe As if it never knew immortality Nor wasted underneath a Hill of Clay Sometimes as curious limners have pourtraid Teares trilling from the weeping Niobe That some would sweare the very picture wept And art of nature got the mastery So did I guesse affluxe of brinish teares Came from this Aiery and unfadom'd Ghost And could the Painters of this age draw sighes I could demonstrate sighes and heavy groanes As if a sensible hart had broke in twaine Then would it turne and cry false woman And leave me to descant on the rest Vrs. You tell me of an object and a strange one But whose is the resemblance An. I theirs the point For that I must be pardon'd oh my shame That I should be the cause'res of a deed I blush to nominate Vrs. Has it no name An. Yes sweete Vrsula But such a one as sadly agrauates My woes in repetition pray leave me I am addicted to contemplation But rest within my call Vrs. T is but