The Case is Altered/Act IV Scene I

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Enter Maximilian with soldiers, Chamont,

Camillo, Ferneze, Pacue.

Max. LORD Chamont, and your valiant friend there,

I cannot say, welcome to Milan; your thoughts and

that word are not musical; but I can say,

you are come to Milan.

Pac. Mort dieu.

Cha. Garçon!

Max. Gentlemen (I would call an emperor so)

you are now my prisoners; I am

sorry, marry this, spit in the face of your

fortunes, for your usage shall be honourable.

Cam. We know it, signior Maximilian;

The fame of all your actions sounds nought else

But perfect honour from her swelling cheeks.

Max. It shall do so still, I assure you, and

I will give you reason: there is in this last

action (you know) a noble gentleman of our

party, and a right valiant, semblably prisoner

to your general, as your honour'd

selves to me, for whose safety this tongue

has given warrant to his honourable father,

the count Ferneze. You conceive me.

Cam. I, signior.

Max. Well, then I must tell you your

ransoms be to redeem him. What think

you? your answer.

Cam. Marry, with my lord's leave, here I say, signior,

This free and ample offer you have made

Agrees well with your honour, but not ours;

For I think not but Chamont is as well born

As is Ferneze; then, if I mistake not,

He scorns to have his worth so underprised,

That it should need an adjunct in exchange

Of any equal fortune. Noble signior,

I am a soldier, and I love Chamont;

Ere I would bruise his estimation

With the least ruin of mine own respect

In this vile kind, these legs should rot with irons,

This body pine in prison, till the flesh

Drop from my bones in flakes, like wither'd leaves,

In heart of autumn, from a stubborn oak.

Max. Monsieur Gasper, (I take it so is

your name) misprise me not; I will trample

on the heart, on the soul of him that shall

say I will wrong you: what I purpose you

cannot now know, but you shall know, and

doubt not to your contentment. Lord

Chamont, I will leave you, whilst I go in

and present myself to the honourable count;

till my regression, so please you, your noble

feet may measure this private, pleasant, and

most princely walk. Soldiers, regard them

and respect them.

Pac. O ver bon! excellenta gull, he

tak'a my lord Chamont for monsieur Gas-pra,

and monsieur Gaspra for my lord Chamont.

O dis be brave for make a melaugh'e, ha, ha, ha;

O my heart tickla.

Cam. I, but your lordship knows not what hard fate

Might have pursu'd us, therefore howsoe'er

The changing of our names was necessary,

And we must now be careful to maintain

This error strongly, which our own device

Hath thrust into their ignorant conceits;

For should we (on the taste of this good fortune)

Appear ourselves, 'twould both create in them

A kind of jealousy, and perchance invert

Those honourable courses they intend.

Cha. True, my dear Gasper; but this hang-by here

Will (at one time or other) on my soul,

Discover us. A secret in his mouth

Is like a wild bird put into a cage,

Whose door no sooner opens, but 'tis out.

But, sirrah, if I may but know

Thou utter'st it.

Pac. Utteria vat, monsieur?

Cha. That he is Jasper, and I true Chamont.

Pac. O pardonne moy, fore my tongue

shall put out de secreta,

Shall breed de cankra in my mouth.

Cam. Speak not so loud, Pacue.

Pac. Foe, you shall hear fool, for all your

long ear, reguard monsieur: you be de

Chamont, Chamont be Gaspra.

Enter Count Ferneze, Maximilian, Francisco,

Aurelia, Phœnixella, Finio.

Cha. Peace, here comes Maximilian.

Cam. O belike that's the count Ferneze, that old man.

Cha. Are those his daughters, trow?

Cam. I sure, I think they are.

Cha. Fore god, the taller is a gallant lady.

Com. So are they both, believe me.

Max. True, my honourable lord, that

Chamont was the father of this man.

Count. O that may be, for when I lost my son,

This was but young, it seems.

Fran. Faith, had Camillo liv'd,

He had been much about his years, my lord.

Count. He had indeed. Well, speak no more of him.

Max. Signior, perceive you the error?

'twas no good office in us to stretch the remembrance

of so dear a loss. Count Ferneze,

let summer sit in your eye; look

chearfully, sweet count; will you do me

the honour to confine this noble spirit within

the circle of your arms?

Count. Honour'd Chamont, reach me your valiant hand;

I could have wish'd some happier accident

Had made the way unto this mutual knowledge

Which either of us now must take of other;

But sure it is the pleasure of our fates,

That we should thus be rack'd on fortune's wheel.

Let us prepare with steeled patience

To tread on torment, and with minds confirm'd,

Welcome the worst of envy.

Max. Noble lord, 'tis thus. I have here

(in mine honour) set this gentleman free,

without ransom; he is now himself, his va-

lour hath deserved it, in the eye of my judgment.

Monsieur Gasper, you are dear to

me: fortuna non mutat genus. But to the

main, if it may square with your lordship's

liking, his love, I could desire that he were

now instantly employed to your noble general

in the exchange of Ferneze for yourself,

it is the business that requires the tender

hand of a friend.

Count. I, and it would be with more

speed effected, if he would undertake it.

Max. True, my lord. Monsieur Gasper,

how stand you affected to this motion?

Cha. My duty must attend his lordship's will.

Max. What says the lord Chamont?

Cam. My will doth then approve what these have urg'd.

Max. Why there is good harmony, good

musick in this. Monsieur Gasper, you shall

protract no time, only I will give you a bowl

of rich wine to the health of your general,

another to the success of your journey, and

a third to the love of my sword. Pass.

[Exeunt all but Aurelia and Phœnixella.]

Aur. Why how now, sister, in a motly muse?

Go to, there's somewhat in the wind, I see.

Faith, this brown study suits not with your black;

Your habit and your thoughts are of two colours.

Phœ. Good faith, methinks that this young lord Chamont

Favours my mother, sister, does he not?

Aur. A motherly conceit; O blind excuse,

Blinder than love himself. Well, sister, well;

Cupid has ta'en his stand in both your eyes

The case is alter'd.

Phœ. And what of that?

Aur. Nay, nothing but a saint.

Another Bridget, one that for a face

Would put down Vesta, in whose looks doth swim

The very sweetest cream of modesty.

You to turn tippet! fie, fie; will you give

A packing penny to virginity.

I thought you'd dwell so long in Cyprus isle,

You'd worship madam Venus at the length:

But come, the strongest fall, and why not you?

Nay, do not frown.

Phœ. Go, go, you fool.

[Exit.]

Aur. Well, I may jest, or so; but Cupid knows

My taking is as bad, or worse than hers.

O, monsieur Gasper, if thou be'st a man,

Be not afraid to court me; do but speak,

Challenge thy right, and wear it; for I swear,

Till thou arriv'dst, ne'er came affection here.

[Exit.]