The Case is Altered/Act V Scene IV

Enter count Ferneze, Maximilian, Francisco.

Count. Tut, Maximilian, for your honour'd self,

I am persuaded; but no words shall turn

The edge of purpos'd vengeance on that wretch.

Come, bring him forth to execution.

Enter Camillo bound, with servants.

I'll hang him for my son, he shall not 'scape,

Had he a hundred lives. Tell me, vile slave,

Think'st thou I love my son? is he my flesh?

Is he my blood, my life? and shall all these

Be tortur'd for thy sake, and not reveng'd?

Truss up the villain.

Max. My lord, there is no law to confirm this action.

'Tis dishonourable.

Count. Dishonourable, Maximilian!

It is dishonourable in Chamont,

The day of his prefixt return is past,

And he shall pay for't.

Cam. My lord, my lord,

Use your extremest vengeance; I'll be glad

To suffer ten times more for such a friend.

Count. O resolute and peremptory wretch!

Franc. My honour'd lord, let us intreat a word.

Count. I'll hear no more; I say, he shall not live;

Myself will do it. Stay, what form is this

Stands betwixt him and me, and holds my hand?

What miracle is this? 'tis my own fancy

Carves this impression in me; my foftsoft nature

That ever hath retain'd such foolish pity

Of the most abject creature's misery,

That it abhors it. What a child am I

To have a child? ah me! my son, my son!

Enter Christophero.

Chr. O my dear love, what is become of thee?

What unjust absence layest thou on my breast,

Like weights of lead, when swords are at my back,

That run me thorough with thy unkind flight,

My gentle disposition waxeth wild;

I shall run frantick: O my love, my love!

Enter Jaques.

Jaq. My gold, my gold, my life, my soul, my heaven!

What is become of thee? see, I'll impart

My miserable loss to my good lord.

Let me have search, my lord, my gold is gone.

Count. My son, Christophero, think'st thou it possible

I ever shall behold his face again?

Chr. O father, where's my love? were you so careless

To let an unthrift steal away your child?

Jaq. I know your lordship may find out my gold.

For god's sake pity me; justice, sweet lord.

Count. Now they have young Chamont, Christophero,

Surely they never will restore my son.

Chr. Who would have thought you could have been so careless

To lose your only daughter?

Jaq. Who would think

That looking to my gold with such hare's eyes,

That ever open, I, even when I sleep,

I thus should lose my gold, my noble lord,

What says your lordship?

Count. O my son, my son!

Chr. My dearest Rachel!

Jaq. My most honey gold!

Count. Hear me, Christophero.

Chr. Nay, hear me, Jaques.

Jaq. Hear me, most honour'd lord.

Max. What rule is here?

Count. O god, that we should let Chamont escape.

Enter Aurelia, Phœnixella.

Chr. I, and that Rachel, such a virtuous maid,

Should be thus stolen away.

Jaq. And that my gold,

Being so hid in earth, should be found out.

Max. O confusion of languages, and yet no tower of Babel!

Fran. Ladies, beshrew me, if you come not fit

To make a jangling consort; will you laugh

To see three constant passions.

Max. Stand by,

I will urge them; sweet count, will you be comforted?

Count. It cannot be

But he is handled the most cruelly

That ever any noble prisoner was.

Max. Steward, go chear my lord.

Chr. Well, if Rachel took her flight willingly.

Max. Sirrah, speak you touching your daughter's flight?

Jaq. O that I could so soon forget to know

The thief again that had my gold, my gold.

Max. Is not this pure?

Count. O thou base wretch, I'll drag thee through the streets;

Enter Balthasar, and whispers with him.

And as a monster make thee wonder'd at. How now?

Phœn. Sweet gentleman, how too unworthily

Art thou thus tortur'd! brave Maximilian,

Pity the poor youth, and appease my father.

Count. How! my son return'd? O Maximilian,

Francisco, daughters! bid him enter here.

Enter Chamont, Ferneze, Rachel, Angelo.

Dost thou not mock me? O my dear Paulo, welcome.

Max. My lord Chamont!

Cha. My Gasper!

Chr. Rachel.

Jaq. My gold, Rachel, my gold.

Count. Somebody bid the beggar ceas his noise.

Chr. O signior Angelo, would you deceive

Your honest friend, that simply trusted you?

Well, Rachel, I am glad thou art here again.

Ang. I'faith she is not for you, steward.

Jaq. I beseech you, madam, urge your father.

Phœn. I will anon; good Jaques, be content.

Aur. Now god-a-mercy fortune, and sweet Venus.

Let Cupid do his part, and all is well.

Phœn. Methinks, my heart's in heaven with this comfort.

Chamont. Is this the true Italian courtesy?

Ferneze, were you tortur'd thus in France?

By my soul's safety ————.

Count. My most noble lord,

I do beseech your lordship.

Cha. Honour'd count,

Wrong not your age with flexure of a knee,

I do impute it to those cares and griefs

That did torment you in your absent son.

Count. O worthy gentlemen, I am asham'd

That my extreme affection to my son

Should give my honour so uncur'd a maim;

But my first son being in Vicenza lost.

Cha. How! in Vicenza! lost you a son there?

About what time, my lord?

Count. O the same night

Wherein your noble father took the town.

Cha. How long's that since, my lord? can you remember?

Count. 'Tis now well nigh upon the twentieth year.

Cha. And how old was he then?

Count. I cannot tell;

Between the years of three and four, I take it.

Cha. Had he no special note in his attire,

Or otherwise, that you can call to mind?

Count. I cannot well remember his attire;

But I have often heard his mother say,

He had about his neck a tablet,

Given to him by the emperor Sigismund,

His godfather, with this inscription,

Under the figure of a silver globe,

In minimo mundus.

Cha. How did you call your son, my lord?

Count. Camillo, lord Chamont.

Cha. Then no more my Gasper, but Camillo,

Take notice of your father. Gentlemen,

Stand not amaz'd; here is a tablet,

With that inscription, found about his neck,

That night, and in Vicenza, by my father,

(Who being ignorant what name he had

Christen'd him Gasper;) nor did I reveal

This secret, till this hour, to any man.

Count. O happy revelation! O blest hour! O my Camillo!

Phœn. O strange! my brother!

Fran. Maximilian,

Behold how the abundance of his joy

Drowns him in tears of gladness.

Count. O my boy,

Forgive thy father's late austerity.

Max. My lord, I delivered as much before,

but your honour would not be persuaded;

I will hereafter give more observance

to my visions; I dreamt of this.

Jaq. I can be still no longer, my good lord;

Do a poor man some grace amongst all your joys.

Count. Why what's the matter, Jaques?

Jaq. I am robb'd;

I am undone, my lord; robb'd and undone.

A heap of thirty thousand golden crowns

Stolen from me in one minute, and I fear

By her confederacy that calls me father;

But she is none of mine, therefore, sweet lord,

Let her be tortur'd to confess the truth.

Max. More wonders yet.

Count. How, Jaques! is not Rachel then thy daughter?

Jaq. No, I disclaim in her; I spit at her:

She is a harlot, and her customers,

Your son, this gallant, and your steward here,

Have all been partners with her in my spoil;

No less than thirty thousand.

Count. Jaques, Jaques,

This is impossible; how shouldst thou come

To the possession of so huge a heap,

Being always a known beggar?

Jaq. Out, alas!

I have betray'd myself with my own tongue;

The case is alter'd.

Count. Some one stay him here.

Max. What means he to depart? count

Ferneze, upon my soul this beggar, this

beggar is a counterfeit.

Urge him: didst thou lose gold?

Jaq. O no, I lost no gold.

Max. Said I not true?

Count. How! didst thou first lose thirty thousand crowns,

And no no gold? was Rachel first thy child,

And is she now no daughter? sirrah, Jaques,

You know how far our Milan laws extend

For punishing of lyars.

Jaq. I, my lord.

What shall I do? I have no starting-holes.

Monsieur Chamont, stand you, my honour'd lord.

Cha. For what, old man?

Jaq. Ill-gotten goods ne'er thrive;

I play'd the thief, and now am robb'd myself.

I am not what I seem, Jaques de Prie,

Nor was I born a beggar as I am,

But some time steward to your noble father.

Cha. What, Melun, that robb'd my father's treasure,

Stole my sister?

Jaq. I, I; that treasure's lost, but Isabel,

Your beauteous sister, here survives in Rachel;

And therefore on my knees ———

Max. Stay, Jaques, stay;

The case still alters.

Count. Fair Rachel, sister to the lord Chamont!

Ang. Steward, your cake is dow, as well as mine.

Pau. I see that honour's flames cannot be hid,

No more than lightning in the blackest cloud.

Max. Then, sirrah, 'tis true, you have lost this gold.

Jaq. I, worthy signior, thirty thousand crowns.

Count. Mass, who was it told me, that a

couple of my men were become gallants of late?

Fran. Marry, 'twas I, my lord; my man told me.

Enter Onion and Juniper.

Max. How now! what pageant is this?

Junip. Come, signior Onion, let's not be asham'd to appear;

Keep state, look not ambiguous now.

Oni. Not I, while I am in this suit.

Junip. Lordlings, equivalence to you all.

Oni. We thought good to be so good as see you, gentlemen.

Max. What, monsieur Onion!

Oni. How dost thou, good captain?

Count. What, are my hinds turn'd gentlemen?

Oni. Hinds, sir! 'sblood, and that word

will bear an action; it shall cost us a thousand

pound a piece, but we'll be reveng'd.

Junip. Wilt thou sell thy lordship, count?

Count. What, peasants purchase lordships?

Junip. Is that any novels, sir?

Max. O transmutation of elements! it is

certified you had pages.

Junip. I, sir; but it is known they

proved ridiculous; they did pilfer, they did

purloin, they did procrastinate our purses;

for the which wasting of our stock, we have

put them to the stocks.

Count. And thither shall you two presently.

These be the villains that stole Jaques' gold;

Away with them, and set them with their men.

Max. Onion, you will now be peel'd.

Fran. The case is alter'd now.

Oni. Good my lord, good my lord.

Junip. Away, scoundrel; dost thou fear a little elocution?

Shall we be confiscate now? shall we droop now?

Shall we be now in helogabolus?

Oni. Peace, peace, leave thy gabling.

Count. Away, away with them; what's this they prate?

[Exeunt with Juniper and Onion.]

Keep the knaves sure; strict inquisition

Shall presently be made for Jaques' gold,

To be dispos'd at pleasure of Chamont.

Cha. She is your own, lord Paulo, if your father give his consent.

Ang. How now, Christophero! the case is alter'd.

Chr. With you as well as me; I am content, sir.

Count. With all my heart; and in exchange of her,

(If with your fair acceptance it may stand)

I tender my Aurelia to your love.

Cha. I take her from your lordship with all thanks,

And bless the hour wherein I was made prisoner,

For the fruition of this present fortune,

So full of happy and unlook'd-for joys.

Melun, I pardon thee; and for the treasure

Recover it, and hold it as thine own:

It is enough for me to see my sister

Live in the circle of Ferneze's arms,

My friend, the son of such a noble father;

And my unworthy self wrapt above all

By being the lord of so divine a dame.

Max. Well, I will now swear the case is

altered. Lady, fare you well; I will subdue

my affections. Madam, as for you,

you are a profest virgin, and I will be silent.

My honourable lord Ferneze, it shall become

you at this time not to be frugal, but

bounteous, and open-handed; your fortune

hath been so to you, lord Chamont.

You are now no stranger; you must be

welcome; you have a fair, amiable, and

splendid lady: but signior Paulo, signior

Camillo, I know you valiant, be loving.

Lady, I must be better known to you.

Signiors, for you, I pass you not, though

I let you pass; for in truth I pass not of you.

Lovers to your nuptials, lordlings to your

dances; march fair all, for a fair march is

worth a king's ransome.

[Exeunt.]

--- This Comedy was sundry times acted by the Children of the Black-Friars.

FINIS.