 | The Fool Would be a Favourit : Or, the Discreet Lover |  |
Actus quartus.
Enter Philanthus.Phil.
How strange a fortune have I run, since I did leave
The Court; but it most vexes me, to be ungratefull to
Her, that sav'd my life, though not by love; yet there
Might be some other way to serve her, did I know
Her name. Why, sure me thinks I'me free, since 'tis her will,
That barrs me from the means, to know her. I have
No comfort left, but in the faithfull friendship of the Prince.
His Sister is become cruell, I fear unconstant.
Adrastus, how will he entertain me?
Enter Adrastus.
Adr.
Ha, is't his ghost, or he himselfe? he lives! my hopes are vain.
Phil.
What means he, he cannot suspect 'twas I that overcame him.
Adr.
I must dissemble. My dearest friend, where have you been
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A Serpent or a Fury had been more welcome.
The Court, Sir, languishes in your absence, and reason,
Wanting you, the lustre of it.
Phil.
Rather in your sicknesse, Sir; Now you are well, it will recover quickly.
Adr.
You have heard, it seemes, of my dysaster.
Phil.
I heard, Fortune envying your worth, became your enemy.
But, was the Combat equall, had he no odds in Horse nor Armes?
Adr.
Something there was in that, but my respect to the Princesse
Was most prejudiciall to me; yet since, she hath
Requited me, with so much love and care of my health,
That I esteem my selfe most happy to have received those wounds,
And with them, such assurance of her affection.
Phil.
How's this?
Adr.
I'l vex his soul with jealousie?
Phil.
It cannot be.
Adr.
If he accuse me for these words, I'le combat him,
And so recover my honour lost, or lose my life.
'Twas fortune, not his valour, that o'recame me.
Phil.
Oh woman, woman, what art thou?
Adr.
Philanthus, what is't that troubles you? if any secret griefe,
Discover it to me, whom you may boldly trust;
For I have told you, what to no other creature
Living I would discover, though wrack'd.
Phil.
I am wrack'd indeed.
Adr.
Come, speak man, be free, my friendship to you does command it.
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I am of a sudden sick.
Adr.
And that's my case: How I could hug my selfe for this?
Phil.
Your pardon, Sir, I am not very well, I'le to my Chamber.
Adr.
Shall I wait on you?
Phil.
By no means.
Ex:
Adr.
A fine excuse, alasse poor shallow lover.
Fortune, why dost thou thus assist an ignorant
Against me? Why should she love him, and neglect me
Thus, that am so much in Art his Master? he has a smoother face,
And more youth about him; th'Adamants,
That draw a giddy Lady. I see him comming back,
I do not like it; I'le make as if I did not see him.
Enter Philanthus.
Phil.
Friend. He goes away. Adrastus.
Adr.
I cannot hear.
Exit.
Phil.
He will not hear. How base a wretched thing
Is a dissembler of which Adrastus is the chiefe.
With what a shew of love he entertain'd me,
As if his soul were joy'd at sight of me;
When by the lie he did invent of me, and of the Princesse,
I know he hates me: What a madnesse is it then in me,
To believe that, which he spoke of her love to him;
He's sure too cunning to discover it, if it were true,
To me especially. Child that I was, I now finde out his plot,
Suffering my passion to give him an assurance
Of my affection to Aurelia, which before
He onely could suspect.—See the sweet Prince.
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Age.
Thou partner of my soul, where hast thou been?
Phil.
Oh Sir, the strangest fortune hath befalln me, since
I received your Letter, that ever man encountred,
Too long to be told you now. But how go matters at Court?
What say they of the stranger, I mean, of me?
Age.
My sister most unjustly hates you, and no perswasions
Can as yet alter her, as y'are a stranger too.
I left her with a Gipsie and his daughter, who tells
The strangest things that e're were heard; indeed he tels
You almost what you can desire to know, mens fortunes past,
And, I think, that which is to come too, if he please:
Sure hee's really a Conjurer,
Phil.
I long to see and talk with this rare man,
But more your beautious sister, if she will dain
To cast her heavenly eyes on so despis'd a subject.
Age.
Come, fear it not, time will pacifie that unjust anger,
That she conceiv'd against you.
Phil.
I fear she is unconstant.
Age.
If she love any other, nay, if she love not Philanthus,
She's no more my sister, but in name; a stranger
To my blood and my affection.
Phil.
I do fear, if there be any body by, they'l discover
By my distemper, the affection, which except to your dearselfe,
I have from all concealed.
Age.
It shall be as you desire it. Come, leave these down-cast looks;
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Here's a greater witnesse of my Mistresse scorn than ever,
She almost swears here never to love me;
There was some hope before, but I forget.
Each one in his owne cause is tedious,
Taxes an other that's guilty in the same.
Exeunt
Enter Aurelia, Adrastus, Miranthe, Linda, and a Gipsie.
Aur.
Come, Sir, what can you say to this hand?
Gip.
You have been much in love, and there was cause
You should be so, your servant was most worthy.
But you of late have been unkinde, perhaps
You love another; I can, but will not tell you at this time.
Aur.
This is partly truth. Shew him your hand
Mir.
I defie him to tell any thing of me.
Gip.
Y'are a good dull soul, you neither think of love nor hate;
To wait upon your Lady is all your pleasure.
Aur.
In troth 'tis true.
Lind.
Pray, Sir, look on mine.
Gip.
Y'are wondrous amorous, and have already chang'd
Three Servants, the better for the worse still.
Aur.
Upon my knowledge, Sir, you have told most certain truth.
Enter Agenor.
Age.
'Save yee, sister. Can this man tell any thing?
Sir, shew your skill on me, but to my selfe;
I would not have them heare what you conjecture:
More I know you cannot of no mans fortune.
Gip.
You'l straight believe the contrary, your hand's
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Of your whole life; at least, your passages
Of love, which is the skill that I professe.
Age.
Let's hear.
Aur.
Adrastus, hath he seen your hand yet?
Adr.
No, Madam, 'tis to no purpose, he can tell nothing.
Aur.
I am not of your minde. It seemes my brother
Will not have us know his fortune.
Gip.
You were in love at seven years old, as much as that age
Could admit, and have continued the most constant living,
Upon the smallest hopes; and 'tis not long since
You received a great discouragment, yet still you love,
And much I fear in vain.
Age.
'Tis true, this makes me admire your skill.
Gip.
You are as true a friend, as y'are a lover too,
And you in that will be unfortunate.
Age.
It is impossible.
Gip.
I may fail, but I speak according to my art.
Adr.
What think you of him?
Age.
I think him a rare man.
Adr.
I'le see if he can make me think him so.
Now, Sir, shall I intreat you to shew your skill.
Gip.
You will not have me speak aloud.
Adr.
Why not aloud?
Gip.
I will not; you have been a lover more then once, and still
Unfortunate; first, by your own unconstancy, your quarells
Too, have been no advancement to your reputation lately;
And more disgraces shall light on you, till you return
Unto your first affection: the gods are much displeased.
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Adr.
A strange fellow, but I'le seem to contemn him.
The most ignorant might have told what he tells me,
Of which number I believe him one.
Gip.
Say you so, pray let me see your hand once more.
Adr.
Well, Sir.
Gip.
Your own arme being too weak to defend you against your enemy,
I finde, you basely have employed the armes of others.
Adr.
Ha!
Gip.
I finde something like a murder written in this Line.
Adr.
This fellow is a devill; besides, I see my falshood does not thrive.
Aur.
What saies he to you?
Adr.
He is indeed a rare man, and I recant,
And much esteem him and his skill.
Age.
I see he has told you things that please you.
Adr.
He has so.
Exit.
Age.
Sister, if you love me.
Aur.
Well, you know I can deny you nothing; I would not see him else.
How I long to speak with him, yet I'le torment him too.
It troubles me to think, my brother divides
The channell of his love, which else would wholly
Run in one continued stream to me.
Enter Agenor.
I esteem you learned above all those I ever saw or heard of.
This evening, Sir, wee'l talk at better leasure.
Now I desire all to retire and leave me.
[Exeunt Gipsie, and Maids.
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Age.
Friend.
Enter Philanthus.
Phil.
How I tremble: Were I to enter Combat against a Lion,
Nay, against an Hoste of men, me-thinks I should not
Be thus fearfull. I know, 'tis not my part
To play the passionate Lover, shee'l laugh at me.
But I have lost that power I had over my passion,
By her unkindnesse, nor can I hide the sorrows of my heart.
she offers to go away.
Age.
Whither, sister, did not you promise to hear him?
Aur.
Whom?
Age.
Philanthus.
Aur.
Yes; but I see nothing but a statue, there's neither
Sound nor motion comes from that.
Phil.
It is your cruelty that hath transform'd me then.
Dear Madam, tell me, from what can grow this alteration?
If any false report have done it, 'tis great injustice
To believe an enemy wronging a friend, and not
To hear that friend first answer for himselfe.
Aur.
Philanthus, I do not complain at all, why do you go about
To justifie your selfe, before you be accused?
Phil.
Madam, why am I then banished from
Your presence, and your favour?
Aur.
'Twas your occasion drew you from the Court,
For ought I know; and for my favour, I never
Doated on you, nor do I hate you now.
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Yet, sister, this cold answer does not become
That love, which you, on my knowledge, desir'd,
That he should think you bear him.
Aur.
Brother, I must acknowledge, that I love and honour Philanthus merits;
But yet, I take it, I never so far did engage my self,
As not to be my own disposer; and you too far
Interest your selfe, in being more a friend to him than me.
Age.
As how?
Aur.
You blind my judgment, which should wholly direct me in my choice:
For he whom you commend of reasonable parts,
Must from me again respect above the best deserver.
And much I wonder, that Philanthus will call in question
His own merits, for so he does in my opinion, to use you,
As a secondary means, since if he be a man deserves my love,
I hope he thinks, that I have wit to know it.
Phil.
Madam, 'twere ignorance in me, or any other, to plead other
Desert, than readinesse to obey; and fortune enviously
To me, hath still denyed such an occasion, as might let you see,
The greatest danger should to me seem none,
Where I might hope to do you any service.
Aur.
Your promises are large, and I may perhaps
Meet with employment.
Phil.
Madam, if so, I shall beleeve my selfe most happy.
Age.
Well, dear sister, use him kindly.
Aur.
Brother, you did desire, that I should give him hearing,
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And wish to enjoy his company alone; pray leave us.
Age.
Most willingly.
Exit.
Aur.
You may stay, Sir, if you please, except you fear
To be alone with me.
Phil.
Madam, why fear, what danger?
Aur.
More then you think, I must impart a businesse to you
In which I shall make tryal of
The great love that you professe.
Phil.
I am blest, if you be serious; though I should
Perish in what you employ me, I must
Account my end most fortunate.
Aur.
You must swear to perform what I enjoyne you,
According to your power.
Phil.
Madam, I vow't, if it be not against mine honour.
I value you above my life, but lesse then that
Aur.
Well.
Phil.
One exception more, and then be what it will.
Aur.
What's that?
Phil.
Not to command me to cease to love you.
Aur.
Oh! fear it not; and yet I will not promise to love you,
Not when you have performed, what I shall now enjoyne;
Yet, I confesse, the service will be most acceptable:
Nor must you make my Brother, though your dearest friend,
Partaker of the secret.
Phil.
That's worst of all.
Aur.
Swear.
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I do.
Aur.
Then know, that I do hate that Knight, that overcame Adrastus,
More then I love my beauty or my health.
Phil.
How?
Aur.
This cannot chuse but pinch him. And do enjoyne you
By your oath, to find him out, and so deliver him into my hands,
That I may have still power to punish him as I think fit.
Phil.
And, Madam, wherefore do you hate him? I heard,
His actions did not deserve it.
Aur.
For his discourtesie, and neglect of me.
Phil.
Know you of what Country he is?
Aur.
No.
Phil.
Oh, Madam, I finde your plot, you know you shall
Still be importuned by my love, which will
Not give me leave, to let you live in peace;
And therefore you have set me on this uselesse task.
You are witty in your cruelty.
Aur.
Not onely so, for I desire to be reveng'd upon that Knight.
Phil.
Will't content you if I kill him?
Aur.
No, his punishment I reserve unto my self,
The way to bring him hither, to your own discretion;
By force, or by entreaty, as you please. And so I leave you.
Think on your oath, remember too I promise no reward.
Phil.
Nor may I hope one neither.
Aur.
You are your own disposer.
59
At least allow me this encouragement.
Why should I strive to please this scornfull she, that hates me;
Nay, hates me, when I do deserve all love?
The beautious Lady of the Castle did not so.
Am I not by the gods thus punished, for my ingratitude to her? yes.
Certainly, she sav'd my life: Her beauty is not much inferiour,
Her wit seemes equall; how e're, she ought
To be esteemed by me much more. But where's she,
Or what is she, I know not, onely
I feel her growing here, here, [flourish]
in my heart.
Enter Duke, Agenor, Aurelia, Courtiers.
Duk.
This custome shall no longer be of use;
The last Combat was granted, it seemes,
Hath drawn on this.
Age.
Your Court will be dishonoured by the refusall.
Shall it be said, You protect those, who do wrong
To others, when the guilt perhaps makes them
Too feeble to defend themselves.
Duk.
Well, be it as you will, I am innocent
Of any blood, that shall this day be shed.
Age.
Let the Knight enter.
Enter Gudgen and his Man.
Duk.
How, Gudgen my favourit? nay, then there's
no great danger: Meant you 'twas he? Which of the
women will he challenge?
Aur.
Nay rather, how many men at all these weapons.
60
Speak your prose first, and see you be not out,
before you begin your leggs.
Man.
No, I warrant you, Sir, I'le make my sirreverences
very sweetly.
Age,
Something long a beginning.
Y. G.
Take heed your tongue do not discover you.
Man.
No, nor my tail neither, I warrant you, as I'le
tell it.
Y. G.
Remember, born a great way off.
Man.
I, I, and not christened; for you are a Turk
you know.
Aur.
Now he begins.
Man.
Most doughty Duke. Master, what must I call
you?
Y. G.
Coxcomb.
Man.
Oh!
Y. G.
Shouldst not name me.
Man.
Most doughty Duke, my Master Coxcomb
whom you see.
Y. G.
Oh slave.
Man.
Is come to Court, to shew his chivalry against.
Y. G.
Speak softly.
Man.
Against speak-softly, servant to your grace.
Y. G.
Bernardo, servant to your grace, you fool.
Man.
Bernardo, servant to your grace, you fool
whom if he be within this dismall place, I him defie,
throwing the monstrous lie into his ugly throat.
Age.
Good poetry.
Man.
And should he come, I would not be ins' coat:
For sure my Master, who is come thus far,
Will kill him dead before he be aware.
I am his mouth, and I do tell you from him,
My Master, if he come, will soundly bum him.
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Wooll a?
Man.
And therefore keep away, if you be wise;
Till I my Trumpet have forth-sounded thrice.
Phil.
Me-thinks the Knight should speak for himselfe.
Y. G.
I do not understand a word of your language.
Duk.
Hard luck, how far was your Knight born?
Y. G.
Be sure you say far enough, they'l I know me
else.
Man.
I warrant ye. Beyond the worlds end.
Age.
How many miles may that be?
Man.
Forty good miles, and more. His Father?
Y. G.
Peace, sound again, I am in some fear.
Aur.
Hee'l learn to speak anone.
Y. G.
It seemes the enemy dares not approach; if he
do, I'le send him after those ten Knights that I kill'd in
Thrace, singly, man after man, though they assaulted
me all at once.
Phil.
That's strange.
Y. G.
I, at one blow, with this rusty sword, rusty
with being continually imbrued in blood of bruitish
beasts,
Man.
Indeed he kill'd a mad Bullock once.
Y. G.
Clove to the teeth a monstrous high and mighty
mastiff Dog, of a Leminian Lion's hide.
Age.
A Cow's perhaps his father was a Butcher.
Y. G.
Sound the third time. Not yet, how base is
he, that dares do injurie, but much more base, that
dares not justifie his wickednesse. Not yet?
Phil.
Now he speaks plain.
Y. G.
I with this Gun have kill'd a monstrous
Wren.
Man.
He come! Hang him coward.
Y. G.
Oh that he durst, then would I. What noise
is that?
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Nothing.
Y. G.
I thirst for blood, if there be any here.
Aur.
To drink, would he have it?
Y. G.
That dare according to antient books, maintain
the beauty of his Lady against mine. Since the enemy
dare not appear, I must be in action.
Age.
Where's yours?
(Flourish)
Y. G.
My squire here shal be she, my valour shal supply
that which wants in beauty.
Duk.
None dares. I am weary of this fool.
Y. G.
Dare none encounter me, march quite away?
He's come, but 'tis too late, I scorn to stay.
Duk.
What did you come for?
Y. G.
I will tell you the secret, I did come hitherto no end,
And I do mean to depart to as little purpose.
Therefore like other Knights, that make a show
In glittering Armour, as I came I go.
Exeunt Gudgen & his Man.
Phil.
Call him back again, hee's a rank coward.
Duk.
No, let him alone, I'me weary; besides the day is far spent,
And we do lose much better sport; nor were it well
To have him so discouraged.
Aur.
Pray, Sir, let me enjoy your friend Gudgen's company sometimes.
1. C.
Madam, I'le fit him the best I can to make you sport.
Aur.
If Philanthus conceal from Agenor
What I enjoyn'd, he loves me more then him,
Which I shall much rejoyce in.
Age.
Is this your friendship?
Exeunt, manet Phil. & Age.
Phil.
Do not accuse me, where I am not guilty.
The secret is not mine, that's trusted by another to me:
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Yet so much I am touched, that I do burst
With a desire to tell you.
Age.
Why do you not?
Phil.
She bound me by an oath to the contrary, most cunningly;
For else, she knew I would have told it, you.
Age.
Philanthus, I see she hath wholly won you from me,
And I am glad you need not use my friendship further.
Which of you two to accuse of most unkindnesse,
I know not well. For me, I should not have entertain'd
The knowledge of a secret, on a condition so prejudiciall
To our friendship.
Phil.
'Twere great injustice in you, if't should.
A perjur'd man would ill become your friendship.
Age.
You tell it to no man in telling me.
Phil.
Had not her tongue, her action did enjoyn me
to keep it from your
Age.
Perhaps she fear'd to speak before me, that which yet she would
Be well content, that I should know from you.
Phil.
If I have friendship, the knowledge of it, if you love me,
Would more afflict you, than my denyalls does.
Age.
Such an excuse does worst of all: farewell.
Phil.
Sure Aurelia so much hates me, that she envies me
That happinesse of her brothers friendship, and onely
Did invent this plot to break it. Stay, Sir, I'le give you proof
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Say, a strange one though not this.
Age.
Well, what is't?
Phil.
I do not love your sister.
Age.
How!
Phil.
No otherwise then as she is your sister.
Age.
This makes me more suspect your friendship.
Phil.
Why should you think I love her, since she hates me,
And laies plots to deprive me of your friendship,
Which, by the gods, I prise above what happinesse
Women can bring me.
Age.
This protestation makes me think, you do not love indeed.
Phil.
Be not mistaken, I do love.
Age.
Whom?
Phil.
Remember my past fortune with the beautious Lady
Of the Castle, and you will finde, that I have cause
To be a Lover, if only out of gratitude.
Your sister's cruelty hath made my reason
Once more Master of my will; and being so,
I cannot chuse, but see my former folly,
In hoping to enjoy so absolute a creature
As Aurelia is, whom heaven ordaines
For one of greater merits; the gods had been
Indeed unjust, to make unworthy me the centre,
Where so much worthy loves should meet, the least
Of which, is sure to make the best deserver happy.
Age.
Philanthus, my friendship's of that nature, that it does
Glew me unto your designes; and since I see
My sister hath given over to deserve your love,
I must confesse, I think you could not place it with more reason,
65
Like my selfe, for so you'l hear me, and not laugh,
When I deplore my misery in love; and I do glory,
To be found more constene than you are. The scorns
Of my Mistresse have not altered me; I think
It vice to change, how ere she uses me.
Phil.
Rather 'tis vice not to change, when reason does command it.
Age.
Reason can never be your warrant to be false.
I had been false to reason and my selfe both,
To love where I should finde neglect yet,
Where I love, 'tis with much passion, but
Not your blind-fold constant way.
Age.
Nor would I that you should. I shall be happy
In your happinesse, or you in mine, if either
Of our different waies do prosper. But you
Now love you know not whom, nor know you where to finde her.
Phil.
Pardon me, the skilfull Moor, late come to Court,
Assures me, that he will let me see again
That Lady by his art.
Age.
When this?
Phil.
This morning I sent my man before to tell him,
I am comming; his house is here hard by.
Age.
May I not see her too?
Phil.
Perhaps, if you disguise you like my servant.
Age.
I will.
Phil.
Let's go then, I know he does expect me.
Exit.
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Serv.
Sir, my Master will streight be here.
Moor.
Sir, I am ready.
Enter Philanthus and Agenor.
Phil.
Great Master of your art, good-morrow.
Moor.
Good-morrow, noble Sir.
Phil.
I hardly yet believe it possible,
You should perform what you have undertaken.
Moor.
More, Sir, if I please: I am in substance
What others seem; nor shall you stay
The making of a Circle. But who's this with you?
Phil.
A servant, Sir, that I dare trust.
Moor.
Pardon me, Sir, I have reason to be wary.
This art is no waies lawfull; for telling fortunes,
That I count nothing. Is there nought else that you desire?
Phil.
Nothing.
Moor.
Stand by then. By that great power that's given me,
Recorder.
I charge thee, the form of that Lady, to
Appear, that this Prince desires, so habited,
As when he saw her last.
Enter Lucinda.
Phil.
Oh ye powers, 'tis she. I must confesse, your art
Is inimitable, 'tis the same form; me-thinks
It looks so like the life, that it would speak,
If I should question it: no beauty can be greater.
Shee's gone, can you not once more shew her.
Exit Luc:
Moor.
Yes, and much more, if I were pleas'd.
Phil.
What?
Moor.
What? sit down and you shall see. Return thou beauteous shadow.
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Phil.
She's by much fairer then Aurelia; I was a fool
To pursue what's fled, and to refuse a blessing
Offered like this; she smiles, as if she understood me,
And confirm'd my saying.
Age.
Although I burst, I'le see the end.
Phil.
When first I saw what's here presented, I
could not think she was the thing she seem'd,
And now I cannot think she is a shadow,
But a substance,—That sigh assures me,
That shee's flesh and blood; and yet a Dæmon
May possesse a body, making it move by its own Organs.
A dead Body, not a living body: pardon, if shadow,
Or if substance, this bold touch; it is not profane,
Since it proceeds from an affection equall
To what a mortall ere could boast of, in so short a time.
This soft and warm hand does assure me, you are
That noble Lady, to whose courtesie I owe
My life, and now again it is within your power
To see me die. But if you shall once more, make me a tender
Of that love, which at your Castle I refus'd,
As being then a prisoner to anothers beauty.
Assure your selfe, I shall redeem that errour,
With an affection equall to your merits, paying the debt
Of two lives that I owe you, and this of love the greater.
Age.
Oh false friend.
Phil.
She answers not. I fear I all this while, transported
68
Luc.
Rather I fear your protestations will prove such.
Age.
'Tis she, and I am miserable.
Phil.
Oh my joy. No, Madam, they are as firm as are the Poles,
Here the Gipsie pulls of his beard.
That prop up heaven; and can I doubt? the proofs
That you have given me of your love, are infinite,
In that you thus disguise your selfe thus once more
T'ingage me in an infinite affection, which I desire to seal thus.
Luc.
Will you not think you, recall your vowes,
When you shall know my name
Age.
Cruell woman, thou needst not tell him, he too well knowes
Thou art Lucinda; the unkind Mistresse of his
Too kind, and much wronged friend Agenor.
Phil.
Lucinda, Oh my crosse fortune, I am false and knew it not.
Age.
Excuse it not, but justifie thy self,
That I may kill thee without repining.
Phil.
You know I never saw saw her.
Age.
True. But was it possible thou couldst believe,
That I could be transported with that passion
For any other beauty, then for that thou seest in her?
How often, ravished with admiration, did I describe
All this while, after their swords are drawn, the Gipsie and the Lady perswade and hold the Prince.
Her face, and thought by love, like the must cunning Painter,
To draw her very feature to thy understanding,
As they do to the sight; so much at least,
As if thou hadst but been that friend,
Which I did hope, it would have prompted thee to fear
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Phil.
Y'are passionate without all reason, and
Forget friendship. Hear me.
Age.
No, I am too tame, suffering thee, that hast
Nothing, but the empty name of friendship,
Thus to abuse me and shall that be a sufficient
Bridle to hold back my revenge? Draw thy sword.
Phil.
Why, you are mad.
Luc.
I fear some ill event.
Age.
Why smile you? Think you, because my valour is not like to yours,
The subject of each tongue, my maiden-sword,
Never unsheathed till now, that I do fear
In a just cause to use it? Provide your best defence.
Phil.
Defence, hear me.
Age.
Come, draw, and do not dally. Your guilt hath
Made you weaker then you think, you are not
What you were, when you were faithfull.
Luc.
If I have any power, let me conjure you.
Age.
You have none.
Luc.
Hear me.—How do you noble Sir: Oh for a Chirurgeon
Here, she breaks from the Gipsie.
Age.
Ha! what have I done?
Phil.
'Tis in vain, I am well, well as I could have wish'd
I am remov'd from being a hinderance to
My friend in his affection. You perceive
How much he loves you, since it did force him
To make a sacrifice of me, me, his better halfe.
Sir, give me your hand; it was my fortune, not my will,
That crost you in this Ladies love. And, Madam,
Remember, that my last breath is employ'd,
To assure you, that I shall never rest
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Which you thought me worthy to hold, in your affection,
Then this Prince, who onely does deserve it;
To whom, I hope, my weak defence, may justifie my innocence.
Luc.
Thou cruell murtherer of thy friend, who rather than
Endanger thee, would not defend himselfe. Thou cruell Butcher.
Age.
I fear I have been too rash.
He no way did employ his sword.
Luc.
Oh cruell fate. Gon, he's gone for ever.
Age.
He's quite dead, and you are hurt too, I think. Ha!
Luc.
A scratch.
Age.
He did employ his last breath to gain my love,
From you too; did he not?
Luc.
He did, but 'tis in vain, for I shall hate thee more then a Serpent.
Age.
Yet lesse then I shall do my cursed selfe,
The vildest monster of ingratitude,
That the earth ever bore: I wonder why
It does not gape, and swallow me alive.
'Tis mockery to believe the gods are just,
After this sufferance: Here, if you have any mercy, kill me.
Luc.
Not I.
Age.
I'le do't my selfe then.
Moor.
Hold, Sir, for heavens sake.
Age.
Thou ignorant, 'twas to please heaven I would have done it.
Moor.
You are deceived, they want not proper instruments;
If 'twere their divine pleasure to shed your blood,
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Age.
But not so far as to confound their justice,
I am no subject for it.
Moor.
Madam, your help, to save another mischief.
Luc.
Onely that thought makes you unfit, y'are penitent already;
And that I may remove from you this black despair,
That darkens thus your understanding, know,
For your friends dear sake, if e're I love again,
It shall be you, except his memory.
Age.
Fain I would die, yet fain I would believe her.
Oh love! what power thou hast, that thus can change
My just revenge; although I know this protestation
Growes from a fear to offend his ghost, and not
From love to me, for that's impossible:
Yet, I will live, to inflict such punishment
Upon my selfe, that you shall give me leave to die,
To end my misery. The Tombe I will erect
For this dear Coarse, shall well expresse my love,
Howe're, my unfortunate hand did shed his blood.
Let your care be bestowed upon the body,
Till I dispose of it; I shall reward your pain.
Moor.
My Lord, I will.
Age.
Heaven affects. Why do I live, and see him thus,
And I the Author? Madam, what is your pleasure?
Will you remove unknown, or shall I wait
Upon you to your brother?
Luc.
Sir, I beseech you, give me leave to be my own disposer.
Age.
Obedience is my sacrifice.
Luc.
But how, or where, is yet unknown to me,
Uncertain fate, yet certain misery.
Exeunt.
Finis Actûs quarti.
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