Beaumont Fletchers Works, vol 2 | Page 7

liv'd in Court, the Emperour Took notice of his carriage and good parts, The Grandees did not scorn his company, And of the greatest Ladies he was held A compleat Gentleman.
Man. He indeed Daunc'd well; A turn o'th' Toe, with a lofty trick or two, To argue nimbleness, and a strong back, Will go far with a Madam: 'tis most true, That he's an excellent Scholar, and he knows it; An exact Courtier, and he knows that too; He has fought thrice, and come off still with honour, Which he forgets not.
Gui. Nor have I much reason, To grieve his fortune that way.
Man. You are mistaken, Prosperity does search a Gentlemans temper, More than his adverse fortune: I have known Many, and of rare parts from their success In private Duels, rais'd up to such a pride, And so transform'd from what they were, that all That lov'd them truly, wish'd they had fallen in them. I need not write examples, in your Son 'Tis too apparent; for e're Don Duarte Made tryal of his valour, he indeed was Admired for civil courtesie, but now He's swoln so high, out of his own assurance, Of what he dares do, that he seeks occasions, Unjust occasions, grounded on blind passion, Ever to be in quarrels, and this makes him Shunn'd of all fair Societies.
Gui. Would it were In my weak power to help it: I will use With my entreaties th' Authority of a Mother, As you may of an Uncle, and enlarge it With your command, as being a Governour To the great King in _Lisbon.
Enter_ Duarte and his Page.
Man. Here he comes. We are unseen, observe him.
Dua. Boy.
Page. My Lord.
Dua. What saith the Spanish Captain that I struck, To my bold challenge?
Page. He refus'd to read it.
Dua. Why didst not leave it there?
Page. I did my Lord, But to no purpose, for he seems more willing To sit down with the wrongs, than to repair His honour by the sword; he knows too well, That from your Lordship nothing can be got But more blows, and disgraces.
Dua. He's a wretch, A miserable wretch, and all my fury Is lost upon him; holds the Mask, appointed I'th' honour of _Hippolyta_?
Page. 'Tis broke off.
Dua. The reason?
Page. This was one, they heard your Lordship Was by the Ladies choice to lead the Dance, And therefore they, too well assur'd how far You would outshine 'em, gave it o're and said, They would not serve for foiles to set you off.
Dua. They at their best are such, and ever shall be Where I appear.
Man. Do you note his modesty?
Dua. But was there nothing else pretended?
Page. Yes, Young Don Alonzo, the great Captains Nephew, Stood on comparisons.
Dua. With whom?
Page. With you, And openly profess'd that all precedence, His birth and state consider'd, was due to him, Nor were your Lordship to contend with one So far above you.
Dua. I look down upon him With such contempt and scorn, as on my slave, He's a name only, and all good in him He must derive from his great grandsires Ashes, For had not their victorious acts bequeath'd His titles to him, and wrote on his forehead, This is a Lord, he had liv'd unobserv'd By any man of mark, and died as one Amongst the common route. Compare with me? 'Tis Gyant-like ambition; I know him, And know my self, that man is truly noble, And he may justly call that worth his own, Which his deserts have purchas'd, I could wish My birth were more obscure, my friends and kinsmen Of lesser power, or that my provident Father Had been like to that riotous Emperour That chose his belly for his only heir; For being of no family then, and poor My vertues wheresoe'r I liv'd, should make That kingdom my inheritance.
Gui. Strange self Love!
Dua. For if I studied the Countries Laws, I should so easily sound all their depth, And rise up such a wonder, that the pleaders, That now are in most practice and esteem, Should starve for want of Clients: if I travell'd, Like wise Ulysses to see men and manners, I would return in act, more knowing, than Homer could fancy him; if a Physician, So oft I would restore death-wounded men, That where I liv'd, Galen should not be nam'd, And he that joyn'd again the scatter'd limbs Of torn Hippolytus should be forgotten. I could teach Ovid courtship, how to win A Julia, and enjoy her, though her Dower Were all the Sun gives light to: and for arms Were the Persian host that drank up Rivers, added To the Turks present powers, I could direct, Command, and Marshal them.
Man. And yet you know not To rule your self, you would not to a boy else Like Plautus