 | The Ladies Priviledge |  |
Act. 1.
Scena. 1.
Enter Bonivet, Lactantio, and Vitelli.Bonivet.
Is the newes certayne he is arriv'd?
Vit.
The Duke
Had sure intelligence, that the whole Fleet
Anchor'd last night without the Bay: and now
For confirmation of it, the thick breath
Of his saluting Cannon hangs in Clouds
Over the Cittadell, and the glad noyse
Of the applauding people, gratulate
His entrance to the River.
Bon.
The day rose
So cheerefully, as if it meant to gild
With unaccustom'd light, his sayles swolne big
As pregnant mother with the pleasing ayre
Of victory.
Lac.
The rumour of the Fleet
Has fild all Jtaly with wonder, how
So small a number should in open fight
Defeat the Turkish Navy; and conclude
The Generals skill and valour, the mayne cause
Of the atchievement.
Vit.
Hee has return'd as large
Back'd with successive fortune which attends
His mighty resolution, over-threw
The power of Uenice in a fight; which changed
The Sea into a flame, and tooke me in't
His fortunate Captive.
Bon.
Sir, tis noble in you
To acknowledge that as good, which might have bin
Your eminent ruine; stately buildings so
Rise out of ancient structures which the rage
Of eating time, or anger of the windes
Had totter'd from the ground works: you may prove
As fairely happy in the Generals love,
As in the honour which your name or Country
Confer'd on your desert.
Vit.
You speake the scope
Of my intention, a perfect friend
Includes both honour, Country, Family,
And all that's deare and holy: such a friend
As is my Doria, to whose spacious merit
Succession shall pay volumes, who was man
Ere in the smooth field of his face, rough age
Displayd his hairy Ensigne; who has puld
Bright honours wreath from her triumphant front
In battailes when the trembling Sea being calme
Did croud and thrust its waves into a storme
To part the dreadfull fury.
Lac.
The report
Of his Land services do stand on termes
Of Competition with the multitude
Of his Sea Victories.
Vit.
Yet must subscribe
To his Navall triumphs: though the Land
Has seene him Conquerour, when the bodies slayne
Buried the ground they dy'd on, which did shake
To view it selfe entomb'd by them, for whom
It was ordain'd a Sepulchre, the Drums
Were to his eares delightfull as the Lute:
Of lofty Cedars stird by sportive winds,
And when warres Quiresters, the whistling Fife,
And surly Trumpet sung an army dirge,
That fatall musicke wraps his sprightfull sence,
Like joviall Hymnes at Nuptialls.
Bon.
You cannot exceed
His praises duty, since his worth containes
Ent. Frangipan.
Honours most severall attributes.
Lac.
Signior Frangipan,
What riding post on foot, whither in such haste?
Fran.
Very well met gentlemen, I scarce have breath
To utter a wise word yet.
Lac.
We doe believe you Signior, and are in doubt
When you'll have leasure for't.
Fran.
Heare you the newes,
The General's arriv'd: farewell, he will not land
Till I have had the maiden-head of his hand.
Exit.
Bon.
Tis such another Parrat, he relates
Things by tradition, as dogs barke: his newes
Still marches in the reare, yet he relates it
As confidently, as if each tale he tells,
Ent. Doria, Adorni, & Sabelli.
As to be straight inserted as an eight
To the seven former wonders—But here comes one
Will cut off the Fooles Character: renowned Generall
Doe us the gratious honour to permit us
Salute the hand has sav'd our Country.
Do.
Noblest friends,
I am more victorious in your earely loves,
Than in the Turkish Conquest; though I remaine
A Captive to your kindnesse, my Vitelli,
The solid earth, or a continued Rocke,
May by some strange eruptions of the wind,
Be rent, and so divided; but true friends
Are adjuncts most inseparable: I have
Still worne thee here Vitelli, as a Jewell
Fit for no other Cabinet: gentlemen
Your welcome hands me thinks we should embrace,
Till our affectionate fury has discharg'd
Vollies of joyfull courtesie.
Ador.
This is fitter ceremony for them
Then to embrace an enemy, who will not part
On termes so easie; these gentlemen know better
To cut a Caper, than a Cable, or board a Pinck in the Burdells,
than a Pinace at sea: I marvaile my Lord should know such
Milk-sops.
Vit.
My Lord,
You come t'instruct us Courtship, as y'ave taught
Your foes to feare your valour: you appeare
As if this were your Nuptiall day, on which
You were to wed bright triumph; but you can
As well Court peace in silkes, as raging warre
In burnish'd steele, and touch the ravishing strings
With as much cunning industry, as if
Mars could like Orpheus strike the trembling Harp.
Signior Adorni welcome home, I hope
Y'ave made a richer prize, then when my ship
Struck to your mercy.
Ador.
Yes, we are very like
To make good prize indeed, when all the profit
Goes to the State and heavy-headed Burgers,
That lye and snort at home, and eate what we
Sweat bloody drops for.
Do.
Honest Adorni,
His bluntnesse must excuse him gentlemen;
How harsh and rough soe're he seemes, his honour
Will quickly vary, when I have bin tyr'd
With toyle of warre; the observations which
His travailes have afforded him of men,
Countries, and manners, lively set forth
Flourish. Enter Trivulci, Chrisea, Eurione, Corimba.
By his expressive action, has begot
Mirth in my drowsie soule: when y'are acquainted
With his conceit of carriage; you'll not affect
A jovialler Companion,—See the Duke
Tri.
My noble warriour,
Peace now lookes lovely on us, since we enjoy
Let me embrace those youthfull limbes which cloath
Warre in loves livery: thy honour'd father,
When he return'd laden with Turkish spoyles,
As trophies of his valour from the slaughter
Of Haly Bassa at Lepanto, where
The Christian name was hazzarded, arriv'd not
More welcome to the State; beleeve me youth,
Hadst thou a mother living, to be proud
Of thy Nativity, unlesse she wept
For joy to see thee, could no way expresse
A more affectionate gladnesse: Chrisea,
Eurione welcome him home, who cannot
Receive an equall grace to the just value
Of his deservings.
Chri.
Your grace prepares us for that,
We did intend to offer.
Corin.
Yes truely did wee sir, this Generall is ill-bred, I warrant
him, to slight a gentlewoman of my demeanor.
Dor.
My gracious Lord,
To tender thanks, where tis a debt, not duty,
Befits an equall; subjects ought to offer,
With the sincere devotion that our Priests
Doe prayers to Heaven, their hearts as sacrifices
To their deserving Princes, whose sole favours
Doe as the quickning lustre of the Sunne
Cherish inferiour spirits: yours have bin
Showr'd downe on me as elementall dew
On the parcht earth, which drinks it up, and cannot
Give heaven a retribution, yet my duty
Shall speak my willing thankfulnesse, and while
These armes can weild victorious steele, no danger
Shal fright me from that service which I owe
My Prince and Country; since men are not borne
For themselves onely; but their life's a debt
To th'Common-wealth that bred 'hem.
Tri.
Gentle warriour,
Thy fathers spirit swells thy soule, I reade it
Tis just that those who caus'd the warres to cease,
Flour. Ex. præter Corim. and Eurione.
Should have the early fruits of their owne peace,
Euri.
Corimba.
Have you imploy'd a serious diligence yet
In giving Lord Vitelli secret notice
Of my affection to him?
Corim.
Truely Madam,
And as I hope to have a husband yet
Ere I be fifty, I have beene so ta'ne up
About my new device, I scarce have leisure
To say my prayers sincerely: Ladybird
You looke not sprightly, ravishing, onely this star
Was not well cut, nor well laid on, it wanted
A little of my learned art: Vitelli
Doubt him not Madam, he shall love you so:
Tis pretty neat now; I would not have a Lady
That weares a glasse about her have the least
Pimple in her countenance discompos'd, it does
Disgallant a whole beauty.
Eur.
But Corimba
What's this to me, thou maist as well tell tales
Of love to one departing life, these toyes
Relish with me as bitter pills with children,
Wilt thou effect my businesse?
Cor.
I confesse
I have beene very fortunate in bringing
Couples together, though I neare could couple
My selfe with any, your Ladyship could not
Have chose a better agent.
Enter Frangipan.
Fran.
Save you sweet Lady, save you, Aunt I have
Lost all my mornings exercise at Tennis
In seeking you, and yet was still in hazzard,
Whether I should meet you; I must request a little
Helpe from your Art good Aunt, a patch, or two,
Tells me I have a very scurvy face
Without some ornament.
Cori.
Tis a good innocent face, be not asham'd on't;
Ile cut out one instantly; nay I never
Goe unprovided of materialls let me see,
What forme is best for thee; that somthing timerous
A heart stuck neatly on thy face, will excite
Thy heart to more audacity, good Madam
Dost not become him prettily? Cosen be sure
You doe commend this fashion to all gentlemen,
Wert but as common among them as Ladyes,
My wit would be eternally made famous
For the invention.
Fran.
Wilt please you to dispatch Ant, i'me in hast,
I've a whole staple of newes to vent.
Corin.
Of what troe?
I would have my kindred more ridiculous
To th'world than I am; Cosen all your newes
Is stale; invent me rather some choice story,
How true or false no matter, and declare it
For newes, twill please farre better, and endeare
Your judgement i'th' relation—
Enter Doria, Chrisea, Sabelli.
Fran.
Noble Generall y'are happily encountred:
Have you seen my Aunt yet Signior, here she is I have
Newes to informe you worth your knowledge.
Dor.
Keep them
Good Signior till some other time; Eurione
We must implore your absence, we'd be private.
Cor.
Why we have beene trusted
With as good secrets: please your Lordship
Accept this Crescent, you see my Cosen
Is in the fashion; let me lay it on,
Insooth your face is, for a souldiers,
Too smooth, and polite; this device will shew
To faces Military.
Dor.
Good Madam gravity,
Keep your devices for your Chamber Lords,
That dance to Ladies shadowes; pray be gone,
We need not your society—Sabelli.
Exeunt.
Put to the doore, and then be gone—Chrisea
Exit.
The modest Turtles which
In view of other more lascivious Birds
Exchange their innocent loves in timerous sighes,
Do when alone most prittily convert
Their chirps to billing; and with feather'd armes
Encompasse mutually their gawdy neckes.
Chri.
You would inferre that we
Should in their imitation spend this time
Intended for a conference which concernes us
Neerer then Complement.
Dor.
Why my Chrisea,
We may entwine as freely, since our loves
Are not at age yet to conceive a sinne,
Thine being new borne, and mine too young to speake
A lawlesse passion, for my services
Pay me with pricelesse treasure of a kisse,
While from the balmy fountaynes of thy lips
Distils a moisture precious as the Dew,
The amorous bounty of the morne
Casts on the Roses cheeke: what wary distance
Do you observe? speake, and enrich my eares
With accents more harmonious then the Larks
When she sings Hymns to Harvest.
Chri.
Sure my Lord
Y'ave studied Complement; I thought the warre
Had taught men resolution, and not language.
Dor.
Oh you instruct me justly, I should rather
Have tane the modest Priviledge of your lip,
And then endeavor'd to repay the grace
With my extreamest eloquence.
Chri.
You mistake me.
Remit my ignorance, and let me read
The mystery of thy language in thy lookes,
In which are lively Characters of love
Writ in the polish'd tablets of thy cheekes:
Which seeme to vary colours, like the Clouds
When they presage a storme; and those bright eyes
Dart unaccustom'd beames, which shine as anger
Flash'd from their fiery motion.
Chri.
You misconster
The intention of my lookes, I am not angry
Though much distemper'd.
Dor.
At what, by whom?
Lives there a creature so extreamly bed
Dares dis-compose your patience? speake, reveale
The monster to me; were he fenc'd with flames,
Or lock'd in Bulwarkes of congested yee:
And all the feinds stood Centinels to guard
The passage, I would force it to his heart,
Through which the mounting violence of my rage
Should peirce like lightning.
Chri.
I beleeve
That in some triviall quarrell to redeeme
My fame, should scandall touch it, you would fight
Perhaps to shew your valour: But I have
A taske to enjoyne me, which my feares possesse me,
You dare not venture to accept.
Dor.
By truth
You wrong my faith and courage to suspect me
Of so extreame a Cowardize: have I stood the heat
Of Battailes till upon the mountainous piles
Of slaughter'd Carcasses, the soules which left em
Seem'd to ascend to Heaven: that your suspition
Should taint my honour with this base revolt?
This is not noble in you.
Chri.
Do not rage,
When you shall heare it, you will then confesse
Your confident errour.
Dor.
My loyalty will not
To doubt the meanest falsehood in a word
Her voyce can utter, which should charme the world
To a beliefe, some Cherubim has left
Its roome in heaven, to carroll to the earth
Celestiall Anthems, and I now beginne
To question my owne frailty; but by all
Which we call good or holy, be't your will
I should invade inevitable death,
In its most ugly horrour, my obedience
Shall like a carelesse Pilot cast this bark
On that pale rocke of ruine.
Chri.
Will you sweare this?
Dor.
Yes, invent
A forme of oath so binding, that no Law
Or power can dispense with: and ile seal't
With my best blood: pray Madam tell me what
The imposition is you judge so easily,
Will stagger my just truth, that I may flye
On Loves light wings to act it.
Chr.
Heare it then, and doe not,
As you respect your oath, or love, request
The cause of what I shall command.
Dor.
Still Suspitions:
My honour be my witnesse, which no action
Shall violate, I will not.
Chri.
Enough, that vow
Cannot but be materiall, receive it,
I must no longer love you.
Dor.
That's no command: what did you say Chrisea?
Chr.
I must no longer love you, and command you,
Leave your affection to me.
Dor.
Y'are very pleasant Lady.
Chri.
You'll finde me very serious: nay more,
I love another, and I doe enjoyne you,
Since tis a man you may o're-rule, to assist me
In my obtaining him, without whose love
I'me resolute to perish.
Sure I dreame,
Or some strange suddaine death has chang'd his frame
To immortality; for were I flesh
And should heare this, certaine my violent rage
Would pull me to some desperate act beyond
The reach of fury; these are words would infect
Rose-colour'd patience; Cleere and lovely front
With loathsome leprosie, change flames to teares
And with unusuall harshnesse of the sound
Deafen the genius of the world.
Chri.
Where's now
The strength of soule you boasted, does the noyse
Of the death speaking Cannon, not affright
Your setled resolution, and the voyce
Of a weak woman shake your youthfull blood
Into an ague: since you so ill beare this
When you shall heare the man, whose love has stolne
Your interest, you will rage more than unlimited fire
In populous Cities.
Dor.
Sure tis she who speakes:
I doe enjoy yet sound untainted sence,
Each faculty does with a peacefull harmony retaine
Its proper Organ; yet she did rehearse
She must no longer love me: oh that word transformes
The soule of quiet into rage,
Above distracted madnes: madam tell me,
What place is this? for you have led me
Into a subtle Labyrinth, where I never
Shall have fruition of my former freedome,
But like an humble anchorite, that digs
With his owne nayles his grave, must live confin'd
To the sad maze for ever.
Chri.
Sir you cannot
By most submissive and continued prayers
Reclaime my affection, which stands fixt as Fate
Vpon your friend Vitelli.
Dor.
My friend Vitelli?
Chri.
Sir, I not use
The person, to obtaine whose pretious love
I doe conjure you by all tyes of honour
To imploy your utmost diligence.
Dor.
Can I bee
So tame o'th' suddaine? has the feeble spirit
Of some degenerate Coward frighted hence
My resolution, which has given a Law
To fate it selfe, that I must now become
The stale to my owne ruine: oh Chrisea,
Who wert so good that vertue would have sigh'd
At the unwelcome spectacle: had you
Appeard but woman in a passion,
Though of the slightest consequence: oh doe not
Abjure that Saint-like temper, it will be
A change hereafter, burdenous to your soule:
A sinne to one, who all his life-time blest
With peace of conscience, at his dying minute
Falls into mortall enmity with heaven,
And perishes eternally.
Chr.
My will guides my determination, and you must
In honour act your promise.
Dor.
Yes, I will,
Since you can urge it tho, but two
Things pretious to me, and one cruell word
Robs me of both; my friend and her, Chrisea
I have not left another sigh to move,
Nor teare to beg your pitty.
Chri.
They are but vaine,
You may as easily thinke to kisse the starres,
'Cause they shine on you, as recall my vowes,
Which I will urge no further; but wish you
Regard your honour: But farewell, I must
Be cruell e're, to my owne love unjust.
Ex.
Dor.
She's gone; what vapour, which the flattering Sunne
Attracts to heaven, as to create a starre,
And throw it a fading meteor to the earth,
Has falne like me: I am not yet growne ripe
That sports and curles within its flowry Bankes,
Till the vast sea devoure it, onely falling
Into the abysse of mischiefe; passions surround
My intellectuall powers, only my heart,
Like to a rocky Island does advance
Above the fo my violence of the flood,
Its unmov'd head: love be my carefull guide,
Who sailes 'gainst danger both of wind and tide.
Ex.
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