The Fatal Jealousie (1673) | Page 4

The Actors Names.
Don Antonio. A Jealous Lord. Mr. Smith. Don Gerardo. Friend to
Antonio. Mr. Medburn. Don Francisco. A Young Lord. Mr. Young.
Don Sebastian. Friend to Francisco. Mr. Crosby. Jasper. A Villain.
Servant to Antonio. Mr. Sandford. Pedro. Servant to Antonio. Mr.
Burford. Servant To Gerardo. Mr. Norris. Captain of the Watch. Mr.
_Nath. Leigh_. Souldiers.
Women.
_Cælia_. Wife to Antonio. Mrs. Shadwel. Eugenia. Sister to _Cælia_.
Mrs. Betterton. Flora. Waiting Woman to _Cælia_. Mrs. Osborn.
Nurse To _Cælia_. Mr. Nokes. Witch. Aunt to Jasper. Mrs. Norris.

Spirits. Gipsies.

PROLOGUE
By Mr. Smith.
_To you, great Sovereign Wits, that have such sway, Without Controul
to save, or damn a Play; That with a pish, my Anthony, or so, Can the
best Rally'd sence at once or'e throw; And by this pow'r, that none must
question now, Have made the most Rebellious Writers bow, Our
Author, here his low Submission brings, Begging your pass, calls you
the Stages Kings; He sayes, nay, on a Play-Book, swears it too, Your
pox uppo'nt damn it, what's here to do? Your nods, your winks, nay,
your least signs of Wit, Are truer Reason than e're Poet writ, And he
observes do much more sway the Pit. For sitting there h' has seen the
lesser gang Of Callow Criticks down their heads to bang; Lending long
Ears to all that you should say, So understand, yet never hear the Play:
Then in the Tavern swear their time they've lost, And Curse the Poet
put e'm to that cost. And if one would their just Exceptions know, They
heard such, such, or such a one say so; And thus in time by your
dislikes they rise, To be thought Judges, though indeed but spyes. This
is not fair your Subjects to betray To those that strive to Rival you in
sway; That will in time by your expence of wit, Usurp or'e us, and your
successors sit. These and some other dangers to remove, We beg that
though this Play you disapprove, Say nothing of it here, and when
you're gone, We give that leave you'le take to cry it down; Thus you
preserve your pow'r, and we shall be From Fopps, and Demi-Criticks
Censure free.
Subdu'd by force, we Tyrants thus obey, But Ladys, you like lawful
Monarches sway, You Rule by Love, and Pardon faults with ease, In
Subjects that do all they can to please. By faction they condemn, you
by our Peers, And he is guilty sure such Trial fears: And though our
Author pleads not guilty now. And to his Tryal stands, he hopes that
you, Will not too strictly his accusers hear, For if this Play can draw
from you a Tear, He'l slight the Wits, Half-Wits, and Criticks too; And

Judge his strength by his well pleasing you_.

The Fatal Jealousie.
Act the First. Scene the First.
_The Curtain drawn Discovers Don Antonio and _Cælia_ in
Morning-Gowns. Chamber and Bed._
_Cæl._ My Lord, you well may blame my conduct of that bus'ness,
Since it produc'd such dismal Accidents, As my heart trembles but to
think upon; Yet for _Don Lewis_'s Innocence and mine, In the
contrivance of that Fatal Meeting; I must for ever, during Life, be
Champion. And, as he with his dying breath protested, He ne're meant
wrong to you; so am I ready To dye a Martyr to my Innocence.
_Anto._ Come, come, these are but wyles to Palliate things, Can you
believe me stupid, or an Ass? To think my Wife should meet a Man i'
th' Night; Nay, more; a Man that was my seeming Friend; Yet taken in
at Window privately! Nay, which was most, stay with him two full
hours, And in a Room made proper by a Bed, And yet not Cuckold me;
the thing's too plain, I do not doubt the deed, which Iv'e Reveng'd In
part, by killing him: No, I am mad, That you should think so meanly
still of me, As to hope time may alter my belief; Which is by such
unerring Reasons fixt: Or else that you suspect my Truth, when I have
sworn By all things sacred; nay upon my Honour (Which I am so
Jealous of) that if you would Relate the truth of your so close amours, I
from my memory would blot it all, And look on you at worst, but as the
Widdow Of your dead Couzen Lewis.
_Cæl._ Good my Lord, Forbear to use these killing Arguments, Which
every moment give me many Deaths, Rather be like your self, that's
Gen'rous, And kill me once for all; torment me not By giving no belief,
either to Vows Or Actions that have spoke my Innocence: Reflect (my
Lord) on the unwearied pains Iv'e took to gain your pardon