# The Case is Altered/Act IV Scene VI

SCENE VI.
Enter Maximilian, Count Ferneze, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Pacue.
Max. Nay, but sweet count.
Count. Away, I'll hear no more;
Never was man so palpably abus'd,
My son so basely marted, and myself
Am made the subject of your mirth and scorn.
Max. Count Ferneze, you tread too hard upon my patience,
Do not persist, I advise your lordship.
Count. I will persist, and unto thee I speak;
Thou, Maximilian, thou hast injur'd me.
Max. Before the Lord: —
Aur. Sweet signior.
Phœ. O my father.
Max. Lady, let your father thank your beauty.
Pac. By gar, me shall be hang for tella dis same,
Me tella mademoiselle, she tell her fadera.
Count. The true Chamont set free, and one left here
Of no descent, clad barely, in his name.
Sirrah, boy, come hither, and be sure you
speak the simple truth.
Pac. O pardone moy, monsieur.
Count. Come, leave you pardons, and directly say,
What villain is the same that hath usurpt
The honour'd name and person of Chamont.
Pac. O monsieur, no point villain, brave
chevalier, Monsieur Gasper.
Count. Monsieur Gasper!
On what occasion did they change their names?
What was their policy or their pretext?
Pac. Me canno tell, par ma foy, monsieur.
Max. My honourable lord.
Count. Tut, tut, be silent.
Max. Silent, count Ferneze! I tell thee,
if Amurath, the great Turk, were here, I
would speak, and he should hear me.
Count. So will not I.
Max. By my father's hand, but thou
shalt, count. I say, till this instant I was
never touch'd in my reputation. Hear me,
you shall know that you have wrong'd me,
and I will make you acknowledge it; if I
cannot, my sword shall.
Count. By heaven I will not, I will stop mine ears,
My senses lothe the savour of thy breath;
'Tis poison to me; I say, I will not hear.
What shall I know? 'tis you have injur'd me.
What will you make? make me acknowledge it.
Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit.
Enter serving-man with Camillo.
I'll make him to your face approve your wrongs.
Come on, false substance, shadow to Chamont,
Had you none else to work upon but me?
Was I your fittest project? well, confess
What you intended by this secret plot,
And by whose policy it was contriv'd.
Speak truth, and be intreated courteously;
But double with me, and resolve to prove
The extremest rigour that I can inflict. Cam. My honour'd lord, hear me with patience,
Nor hope of favour, nor the fear of torment,
Shall sway my tongue from uttering of truth.
Count. 'Tis well, proceed then.
Cam. The morn before this battle did begin,
Wherein my lord Chamont and I were ta'en,
We vow'd one mutual fortune, good or bad,
That day should be embraced of us both;
And urging that might worse succeed our vow,
We there concluded to exchange our names.
Count. Then Maximilian took you for Chamont.
Cam. True, noble lord.
Count. 'Tis false, ignoble wretch,
'Twas but a complot to betray my son.
Max. Count, thou lyest in thy bosom, count.
Count. Lye!
Cam. Nay, I beseech you, honour'd gentlemen,
Let not the untimely ruin of your love
Follow these slight occurrents; be assur'd
Chamont's return will heal these wounds again,
And break the points of your too piercing thoughts.
Count. Return! I, when? when will Chamont return?
He'll come to fetch you, will he? I, 'tis like.
You'd have me think so, that's your policy.
No, no, young gallant, your device is stale;
You cannot feed me with so vain a hope.
Cam. My lord, I feed you not with a vain hope,
I know assuredly he will return,
And bring your noble son along with him.
Max. I, I dare pawn my soul he will return.
Count. O impudent derision! open scorn!
Intolerable wrong! is't not enough
That you have play'd upon me all this while,
But still to mock me, still to jest at me?
Fellows, away with him; thou ill-bred slave,
That sett'st no difference 'twixt a noble spirit
And thy own slavish humour; do not think
But I'll take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch.
Cam. Alas, these threats are idle, like the wind,
And breed no terror in the guiltless mind.
Count. Nay thou shalt want no torture, so resolve;
Bring him away.
Cam. Welcome the worst, I suffer for a friend,
Your tortures will, my love shall never, end.
[Exeunt.]
Manent Maximilian, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Pacue.
Phœn. Alas! poor gentleman, my father's rage
Is too extreme, too stern and violent.
O that I knew with all my strongest powers
How to remove it from thy patient breast!
But that I cannot, yet my willing heart
Shall minister, in spight of tyranny,
To thy misfortune; something there is in him
That doth enforce the strange affection
With more than common rapture in my breast:
For being but Jasper, he is still as dear
To me, as when he did Chamont appear.
[Exit Phœnixella.]
Aur. But in good sadness, signior, do you think
Chamont will e'er return?
Max. Do I see your face, lady?
Aur. I, sure, if love has not blinded you.
Max. That is a question; but I will assure you no:
I can see, and yet love is in
mine eye. Well, the count your father
simply hath dishonour'd me, and this steel
shall engrave it on his burgonet.
Aur. Nay, sweet signior.
Max. Lady, I do prefer my reputation to my life;
But you shall rule me. Come, let's march.
[Exit Maximilian.]
Aur. I'll follow, signior. O sweet queen of love!
Sovereign of all my thoughts, and thou fair fortune,
Who (more to honour my affections)
Hast thus translated Gasper to Chamont!
Let both your flames now burn in one bright sphere,
And give true light to my aspiring hopes:
Hasten Chamont's return, let him affect me,
Though father, friends, and all the world reject me.
[Exit.]