Зображення сторінки
PDF
ePub

Asp. Go, and be happy in your lady's love.
May all the wrongs, that you have done to me,
Be utterly forgotten in my death!
I'll trouble you no more; yet I will take
A parting kiss, and will not be denied.
You'll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep,
When I am laid in earth, though you yourself
Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself
Into this willow garland, and am prouder,
That I was once your love, though now refused,
Than to have had another true to me.

So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
Some yet unpractised way to grieve and die. [Exit.
Dula. Come, ladies, will you go?
Omnes. Good night, my lord.
Amin. Much happiness unto you all!
[Ereunt ladies.
I did that lady wrong: Methinks, I feel
Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins.
Mine eyes run: This is strange at such a time.
It was the king first moved me to't; but he
Has not my will in keeping. Why do I
Perplex myself thus? Something whispers me,
Go not to bed. My guilt is not so great
As my own conscience, too sensible,
Would make me think: I only brake a promise,
And 'twas the king that forced me. Timorous flesh,
Why shak'st thou so? Away, my idle fears!
Enter EVADNE.

Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
Can blot away the sad remembrance
Of all these things. Oh, my Evadne, spare
That tender body; let it not take cold.
The vapours of the night will not fall here;
To bed, my love. Hymen will punish us
For being slack performers of his rites.
Cam'st thou to call me?

Evad. No.

Amin. Come, come, my love,

And let us loose ourselves to one another.

Why art thou up so long?

Évad. I am not well.

[blocks in formation]

Thou weighest not any thing compared with me:
Life, honour, joys eternal, all delights
This world can yield, or hopeful people feign,
Or in the life to come, are light as air
To a true lover, when his lady frowns,

And bids him do this. Wilt thou kill this man?
Swear, my Amintor, and I'll kiss the sin
Off from thy lips.

Amin. I will not swear, sweet love,
Till I do know the cause.

Evad. I would, thou would'st.

Why, it is thou, that wrong'st me; I hate thee; Thou should'st have killed thyself.

Amin. If I should know that, I should quickly kill

The man, you hated.

Evad. Know it then, and do it.

Amin. Oh, no; what look soe'er thou shalt put on
To try my faith, I shall not think thee false:
I cannot find one blemish in thy face,

Amin. To bed then; let me wind thee in these Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to bed.

[blocks in formation]

This cannot be

Thy natural temper. Shall I call thy maids?
Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long,
Or else some fever rages in thy blood.

Evad. Neither, Amintor: Think you I am mad, Because I speak the truth?

Amin. Will you not lie with me to-night? Evad.To-night! you talk as if I would hereafter. Amin. Hereafter! yes, I do.

Evad. You are deceived.

Put off amazement, and with patience mark
What I shall utter; for the oracle
Knows nothing truer : 'tis not for a night.
Or two, that I forbear thy bed, but for ever.
Amin. I dream! Awake, Amintor!
Evad. You hear right.

I sooner will find out the beds of snakes,
And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh,
Letting them curl themselves about my limbs,

Than sleep one night with thee. This is not feigned,

Nor sounds it like the coyness of a bride.

Amin. Is flesh so earthly to endure all this?
Are these the joys of marriage? Hymen, keep
This story (that will make succeeding youth
Neglect thy ceremonies) from all ears;
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine,
To after-ages: We will scorn thy laws,

If thou no better bless them. Touch the heart
Of her, that thou hast sent me, or the world
Shall know: There's not an altar, that will smoke
In praise of thee; we will adopt us sons;
Then virtue shall inherit, and not blood.
I do rage in vain;

She can but jest. Q, pardon me, my love!
So dear the thoughts are that I hold of thee,
That I must break forth. Satisfy my fear;
It is a pain, beyond the hand of death,
To be in doubt: Confirm it with an oath,
If this be true.

Evad. Do you invent the form:
Let there be in it all the binding words
Devils and conjurers can put together,
And I will take it. I have sworn before,
And here, by all things holy, do again,
Never to be acquainted with thy bed.
Is your doubt over now?

Amin. I sleep, and am too temperate! Come to bed!

Or by those hairs, which, if thou hadst a soul Like to thy locks, were threads for kings to wear About their arms—

Evad. Why, so, perhaps, they are.

Amin. I will drag thee to my bed, and make thy

tongue

Undo this wicked oath, or on thy flesh
I'll print a thousand wounds to let out life!
Evad. I fear thee not. Do what thou darest to

me!

Every ill-sounding word, or threatening look,
Thou shewest to me, will be revenged at full.
Amin. It will not, sure, Evadne?
Evad. Do not you hazard that.
Amin. Have you your champions?

Evad. Alas, Amintor, thinkest thou I forbear
To sleep with thee, because I have put on
A maiden's strictness? Look upon these cheeks,
And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood
Unapt for such a vow. No; in this heart
There dwells as much desire as ever yet
Was known to woman.

But it was the folly of thy youth

To think this beauty, to what land soever
It shall be called, shall stoop to any second.
I do enjoy the best, and in that height

Amin. I know too much. 'Would I had doubt- Have sworn to stand or die: You guess the man.

ed still!

Was ever such a marriage night as this!
Ye powers above, if you did ever mean

Man should be used thus, you have thought a way
How he may bear himself, and save his honour."
Instruct me in it; for to my dull eyes
There is no mean, no moderate course to run:
I must live scorned, or be a murderer.
Is there a third? Why is this night so calm?
Why does not heaven speak in thunder to us,
And drown her voice?

Eoad. This rage will do no good.

Amin. Evadne, hear me : Thou hast taʼen an oath,
But such a rash one, that, to keep it, were
Worse than to swear it: Call it back to thee;
Such vows as those never ascend to heaven;
A tear or two will wash it quite away.
Have mercy on my youth, my hopeful youth,
If thou be pitiful; for, without boast,
This land was proud of me. What lady was there,
That men called fair and virtuous in this isle,
That would have shunned my love? It is in thee
To make me hold this worth. Oh! we vain men,
That trust out all our reputation,

To rest upon the weak and yielding hand
Of feeble woman! But thou art not stone;
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell
The spirit of love; thy heart cannot be hard.
Come, lead me, from the bottom of despair,
To all the joys thou hast; I know, thou wilt;
And make me careful, lest the sudden change
O'ercome my spirits.

Evad. When I call back this oath,
The pains of hell environ me!

Amin. No; let me know the man, that wrongs

me so,

That I may cut his body into motes,
And scatter it before the northern wind.
Evad. You dare not strike him.
Amin. Do not wrong me so.
Yes, if his body were a poisonous plant,
That it were death to touch, I have a soul
Will throw me on him.

Evad. Why, it is the king.

Amin. The king!

Evad. What will you do now?

Amin. It is not the king!

Evad. What did he make this match for, dull Amintor?

Amin. Oh, thou hast named a word, that wipes

away

All thoughts revengeful! In that sacred name, "The king,' there lies a terror. What frail man Dares lift his hand against it? Let the gods Speak to him, when they please; till when, let us Suffer, and wait.

Evad. Why should you fill yourself so full of heat,

And haste so to my bed? I am no virgin. Amin. What devil put it in thy fancy, then, To marry me?

Evad. Alas, I must have one

To father children, and to bear the name
Of husband to me, that my sin may be
More honourable.

Amin. What a strange thing am I!
Evad. A miserable one; one, that myself.
sorry for.

Am

FLETCHER.]

Amin. Why, shew it then in this:
If thou hast pity, though thy love be none,
Kill me; and all true lovers, that shall live
In after ages, crossed in their desires,
Shall bless thy memory, and call thee good;
Because such mercy in thy heart was found,
To rid a lingering wretch.

Evad. I must have one

To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead;

Else, by this night, I would: I pity thee.

Thou hast an easy temper, fit for stamp.
Olym. Never.

Asp. Nor you, Antiphila?

Ant. Nor I.

Asp. Then, my good girls, be more than women,
wise:

At least, be more than I was; and be sure
You credit any thing the light gives light to,
Before a man. Rather believe the sea
Weeps for the ruined merchant, when he roars;

Amin. These strange and sudden injuries have Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails,

fallen

So thick upon me, that I lose all sense

Of what they are. Methinks, I am not wronged;
Nor is it aught, if from the censuring world
I can but hide it. Reputation!

Thou art a word, no more.-But thou hast shewn
An impudence so high, that to the world
I fear thou wilt betray or shame thyself.
Evad. To cover shame, I took thee; never fear
That I would blaze myself.

Amin. Nor let the king

Know, I conceive he wrongs me; then mine honour
Will thrust me into action, though my flesh
Could bear with patience. And it is some case
To me in these extremes, that I knew this,
Before I touched thee; else, had all the sins
Of mankind stood betwixt me and the king,
I had gone through them to his heart and thine.
I have lost one desire: 'Tis not his crown
Shall buy me to thy bed now, I resolve,
He has dishonoured thee. Give me thy hand;
Be careful of thy credit, and sin closc;
Tis all I wish. Upon thy chamber floor
I'll rest to-night, that morning visitors
May think we did as married people use.
And, prithee, smile upon me when they come,
And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleased
With what we did.

Evad. Fear not; I will do this.

Amin. Come, let us practise; and, as wantonly
As ever loving bride and bridegroom met,
Let's laugh and enter here.

Evad. I am content.

Amin. Down all the swellings of my troubled
heart!

When we walk thus entwined, let all eyes see,
If ever lovers better did agree.

[Exeunt.

Enter ASPATIA, ANTIPHILA, and OLYMPIAS. Asp. Away, you are not sad; force it no further. Good gods, how well you look! Such a full colour Young bashful brides put on. Sure, you are new married!

Ant. Yes, madam, to your grief.

Asp. Alas, poor wenches!

Go learn to love first; learn to lose yourselves;
Learn to be flattered, and believe, and bless
The double tongue, that did it. Make a faith
Out of the miracles of ancient lovers,
Such as spake truth, and died in it; and, like me,
Believe all faithful, and be miserable.

Did you ne'er love yet, wenches? Speak, Olympias:

When the strong cordage cracks; rather, the sun
Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn,
When all falls blasted. If you needs must love,
(Forced by ill fate) take to your maiden bosoms
Two dead-cold aspicks, and of them make lovers:
They cannot flatter, nor forswear; one kiss
Makes a long peace for all. But man,
Oh, that beast man! Come, let's be sad, my girls!
That down-cast of thine eye, Olympias,
Shews a fine sorrow. Mark, Antiphila;
Just such another was the nymph Enone,
When Paris brought home Ifelen. Now, a tear;
And then thou art a piece expressing fully
The Carthage queen, when, from a cold sea-rock,
Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes
To the fair Trojan ships; and, having lost them,
Just as thine eyes do, down stole a tear. Antiphila,
What would this wench do, if she were Aspatia?
Here she would stand, till some more pitying god
Turned her to marble! It is enough, my wench!
Shew me the piece of needlework you wrought.
Ant. Of Ariadne, madam?

Asp. Yes, that piece.

This should be Theseus; he has a cozening face:
You meant him for a man?

Ant. He was so, madam.

Asp. Why, then, 'tis well enough. Never look

back;

You have a full wind, and a false heart, Theseus!
Does not the story say, his keel was split,
Or his masts spent, or some kind rock or other
Met with his vessel?

Ant. Not as I remember.

Asp. It should have been so. Could the gods

know this,

And not, of all their number, raise a storm?
But they are all as ill! This false smile was
Well expressed; just such another caught me !
You shall not go on so, Antiphila:
In this place work a quicksand,
And over it a shallow smiling water,
And his ship ploughing it; and then a Fear:
Do that Fear to the life, wench.

Ant. It will wrong the story.

Asp. It will make the story, wronged by wanton
poets,

Live long, and be believed. But where's the lady?
Ant. There, madam.

Asp. Fie! you have missed it here, Antiphila;
You are much mistaken, wench:
These colours are not dull and pale enough
To shew a soul so full of misery

As this sad lady's was. Do it by me;
Do it again, by me, the lost Aspatia,
And you shall find all true, but the wild island.
Suppose I stand upon the sea-beach now,

Mine arms thus, and mine hair blown with the wind,

Wild as that desart; and let all about me
Tell, that I am forsaken. Do my face
(If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow)
Thus, thus, Antiphila: Strive to make me look
Like sorrow's monument! And the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and, behind me,
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches!
A miserable life of this poor picture!
Olym. Dear madam!

Asp. I have done. Sit down; and let us Upon that point fix all our eyes; that point there. Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sadness Give us new souls.

Enter CALIANAX.

Cal. The king may do this, and he may not do it: My child is wronged, disgraced. Well, how now, huswives!

What, at your ease? Is this a time to sit still? Up, you young lazy rogues, up, or I'll swinge you! Olym. Nay, good my lord.

Cal. You'll lie down shortly. Get you in, and work!

What, are you grown so resty you want heats? We shall have some of the court-boys beat you shortly.

Ant. My lord, we do no more than we are charged.

It is the lady's pleasure we be thus in grief:
She is forsaken.

Cal. There's a rogue too;

A young dissembling slave! Well, get you in!
I'll have a bout with that boy. 'Tis high time
Now to be valiant: I confess my youth
Was never prone that way. What, made an ass?
A court-stale? Well, I will be valiant,
And beat some dozen of these whelps; I will!
And there's another of them, a trim cheating sol-
dier;

I'll maul that rascal; he has out-braved me twice;
But now, I thank the gods, I am valiant.
Go, get you in! I'll take a course with all. [Exeunt.

Enter CLEON, STRATO, and DIPHILUS. Cle. Your sister is not up yet. Diph. Knock at the door. Stra. We shall interrupt them.

Diph. No matter. Good morrow, sister! Enter AMINTOR.

ACT III.

Amin. Who's there? my brother! I'm no readier yet.

Your sister is but now up.

Enter MELANTIUS.

Mel. Good day, Amintor! for, to me, the name
Of brother is too distant: We are friends,
And that is nearer.

Amin. Dear Melantius!
Let me behold thee. Is it possible?
Mel. What sudden gaze is this?
Amin. 'Tis wondrous strange!

Mel. Why does thine eye desire so strict a view

Diph. You look as you had lost your eyes to- Of that, it knows so well? There's nothing here,

[blocks in formation]

That is not thine.

Amin. I wonder much, Melantius,

To see those noble looks, that make me think
How virtuous thou art: And, on the sudden,
'Tis strange to me thou shouldst have worth and
honour;

Or not be base, and false, and treacherous,
And every ill. But-

Mel. Stay, stay, my friend;

I fear this sound will not become our loves.
No more; embrace me.

Amin. Oh, mistake me not:

I know thee to be full of all those deeds,
That we frail men call good; but, by the course
Of nature, thou shouldst be as quickly changed
As are the winds; dissembling as the sea,
That now wears brows as smooth as virgins' be,
Tempting the merchant to invade his face,
And in an hour calls his billows up,
And shoots them at the sun, destroying all
He carries on him.-Oh, how near am I
To utter my sick thoughts!

[Aside.

Mel. But why, my friend, should I be so by nature?

Amin. I've wed thy sister, who hath virtuous
thoughts

Enough for one whole family; and it is strange,
That you should feel no want.

Mel. Believe me, this compliment's too cunning
for me.

Diph. What should I be then, by the course of
nature,

They having both robbed me of so much virtue?
Stra. Oh, call the bride, my lord Amintor,
That we may see her blush, and turn her eyes down.
Amin. Evadne !

Evad. [within.] My lord!
Amin. Come forth, my love!

Your brothers do attend to wish you joy.
Evad. I am not ready yet.
Amin. Enough, enough.
Evad. They will mock me.
Amin. Faith, thou shalt come in.

Enter EVADNE.

Mel. Good-morrow, sister! He that understands Whom you have wed, need not to wish you joy; You have enough. Take heed

You be not proud.-Amintor!

Amin. Ha!

Mel. Thou art sad.

Amin. Yes, sir.

King. Tell me, then; you will trust me, Amin

tor,

To chuse a wife for you again?
Amin. No, never, sir.

King. Why? like you this so ill?
Amin. So well I like her,

For this I bow my knee in thanks to you,
And unto Heaven will pay my grateful tribute
Hourly; and do hope we shall draw out
A long contented life together here,
And die both, full of grey hairs, in one day:
For which the thanks are yours. But if the powers,
That rule us, please to call her first away,
Without pride spoke, this world holds not a wife,
Worthy to take her room.

King. I do not like this.

All forbear the room, but you, Amintor,
And your lady. I have some speech with you,
That may concern your after living well.

Amin. He will not tell me, that he lies with her?
If he do, something heavenly stay my heart,
For I shall be apt to thrust this arm of mine
To acts unlawful!

King. You will suffer me to talk

With her, Amintor, and not have a jealous pang? Amin. Sir, I dare trust my wife with whom she dares

Amin. Who, I? I thank you for that. Shall To talk, and not be jealous.

Diphilus, thou, and I, sing a catch?

Mel. How!

Amin. Prithee, let us.

Mel. Nay, that's too much the other way.
Amin. I am so lightened with my happiness!
How dost thou, love? kiss me.

Evad. I cannot love you, you tell tales of me.
Amin.Nothing but what becomes us. Gentlemen,
'Would you had all such wives, and all the world,
That I might be no-wonder! You are all sad:
What, do you envy me? I walk, methinks,
On water, and ne'er sink, I am so light.
Mel. 'Tis well you are so.

King. How do you like
Amintor?

Evad. As I did, sir.

King. How is that?

Evad. As one that, to fulfil your will and plea

sure,

I have given leave to call me wife and love.

King. I see there is no lasting faith in sin; They, that break word with Heaven, will break again

With all the world, and so dost thou with me.
Evad. How, sir?

King. This subtle woman's ignorance

Amin. Well? how can I be other, when she Will not excuse you: thou hast taken oaths,

looks thus.

Is there no music there? let's dance.

Mel. Why, this is strange, Amintor!
Amin. I do not know myself;

Yet I could wish my joy were less.
Diph. I'll marry too, if it will make one thus.
Evad. Amintor, hark.

[Aside.

Amin. What says my love? I must obey.
Evad. You do it scurvily, it will be perceived.
Cleo. My lord, the king is here.

Enter KING and LYSIPPUS.

Amin. Where?

Stra. And his brother.

King. Good morrow, all!

Amintor, joy on joy fall thick upon thee!

And, madam, you are altered since I saw you;
I must salute you; you are now another's.
Amintor, wert thou truly honest, 'till
Thou wert married?

So great, methought, they did not well become
A woman's mouth, that thou would'st ne'er enjoy
A man but me.

Evad. I never did swear so; you do me wrong.
King. Day and night have heard it.
Evad. I swore, indeed, that I would never love
A man of lower place; but, if your fortune
Should throw you
from this height, I bade you trust
I would forsake you, and would bend to him,
That won your throne: I love with my ambition,
Not with my eyes. But, if I ever yet
Touched any other, leprosy light here
Upon my face; which for your royalty
I would not stain !

King. Why, thou dissemblest, and it is in me
To punish thee.

Evad. Why, it is in me, then,

Not to love you, which will more afflict your body,
Than your punishment can mine.

« НазадПродовжити »