# 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.]