 | The Royal Shepherdess |  |
THE FIRST ACT.
Enter Pyrrhus, Endymion, Neander.Pyr.
Believ't my Lords, they say the Prince does Wonders.
Nean.
They say he kills a world of men indeed;
But 'faith I think the wonder had been greater
If he had made but half so many live.
Endy.
Perchance, my Lord, you'd have him turn Physitian.
Nean.
Rather than Butcher, 'tis the Nobler Trade.
Endy.
But they are his Enemies he kills,
Men that offend, and do deserve to die.
Nean.
O! then I think you'l praise the Hangman next,
You give a definition of his Trade.
Pyrr.
If I do not mistake your humour Sir,
You were never taken with this dying,
It is a thing does marr a Courtier much.
Nean.
'Thank Heav'n, I am not yet so mad to wish for't;
Let Broken-Merchants, and the busie Rout
That durt the Streets, when their designs miscarry,
Cry that there's nothing Certain in this World,
I think there's less in that which is to come:
Here I'm sure of something, I'm a Lord,
And live with men: But to be turn'd a grazing
In the Elizian-Fields (that men do talk of)
Among Philosophers, n'ere could make a Legg.
Endy.
Fie, fie, Neander! this is too prophane,
And relisheth far more of Beast than Man.
My Lord, I ask your pardon, I'd forgot
You are a Virtuoso: 'Tis my Lord Pyrrhus
That makes me wander from my Argument,
By putting me in Mind o'th World to come,
(A Theam indeed on which fewmen speak sence.)
Endy.
My Lord! you take too great a Liberty.
Nean.
I am sure you do, to give such mighty Names
To killing men: why Celebrate the Plague:
What General ever did destroy like that;
Or study Glorious Titles for old age,
That kills all those whom nothing else can kill.
Pyrr.
The honour of our Country lies at stake.
Nean.
Honour! The Fools Paradise, a bait
For Coxcombs that are poor, and cannot have
Pleasure and Ease; but sell their Wretched lives
(That are not worth the keeping) for that Trifle
Honour; the breath of a few Giddy people:
Well, I shall leave you to your mighty thoughts,
And make a Visit to a Mistress, which I think
Concerns us more than broken Pates for honour.
Adieu—
Ex. Neander.
Pyrr.
'Tis a vain Lord!
Endy.
He's too prophane, and Chooseth to buy Wit
At the expence of Friends, Religion,
And all but Ladies smiles; which he more values
Then Honest men do the kind looks of Heaven.
Pyrr.
And hates nothing, like Reputation won
By Armes: he hates all Deities for Mars's sake,
And swears that Generals onely famous grow
By Valiant Friends, or Cowardly Enemies,
Or, what is worse, by some mean piece of Chance.
Endy.
The truth is, 'tis odd to observe
How little, Princes, and great Generals
Contribute oftimes to the fame they Win;
How often have we known, that bravest men,
With too short Armes, have fought with fatal Starrs:
And have endeavour'd, with their dearest blood,
To get renown, and with such glorious actions,
And yet have faln by Vulgar hands at last,
Among the Sacrifices of their own Swords,
No more Remembred than poor Villagers,
Whose Ashes sleep beneath the Common flowers
That every Meadow wears, whilst other men,
With trembling hands, have caught a Victory,
And, on pale fore-heads, worn triumphant Bayes.
Pyrr.
I have observ'd it often.
Endy.
Besides I have thought,
A Thousand times in time of War, when we
Lift up our hands to Heaven for Victory,
Suppose, some Virgin Shepherdess (whose Soul
Is Chaste, and Clean as the Cold spring where she
Quenches all her Thirst) being told of Enemies
That seek to fright the long enjoy'd peace
Of our Arcadia hence, should straight repair
To some small Fane, and there on humble Knees,
Lift up her trembling hands unto the Gods,
And beg their help; 'Tis possible to think
Heaven will not suffer her to weep in vain,
But grant her wish—
And so, in the next action happens out,
(The Gods still using means) the Enemy
May be defeated, the glory of all this
Is attributed to the General,
And none but he's spoke Loud off for the Act,
Whilst she, (from whose so unaffected Tears
His Laurel sprung) for ever dwells unknown.
Pyrr.
Your Lordship does not doubt the Princes Merit
Endy.
By no means:
I know the Prince a man of that vast soul,
That flesh did never Circumscribe a Greater.
All that I say is what I've thought upon
Some hours of sweet Retirement, when I've sate,
And viewed the fleeing State of poor Mankind,
A thing too giddy to be understood.
Pyrr.
Indeed the Prince does more then give us hopes
Who lately thought our long and happy peace
Had soften'd so our Minds, that now we were
Fit to be Lorded over by their Wills:
But strange it is, to see the King so little
Joy'd with the news, that still he bears a Face
More troubled than Sicilian Seas in storms.
Pyrr.
'Tis for the Love of that poor Shepherdess,
The Prince not Ten months since took from a Cottage
As he was a hunting, and gave the fair
Cleantha for a Present.
Endy.
aside.
Alas! my poor Urania! how doth
Thy harder Fortune vindicate my Choice?
Who now dares say Endymion loves to low,
When he loves her that can make Princes die;
No more, no more, we must scorn Cottages
Those are the Rocks from whence our Jewels come.
Gold breeds in barren Hills, the brightest Stars
Shine o're the poorer Regions of the North.
Enter King.
Pyrr.
Here comes the King! Endymion, pray retire,
It is not fit you should be privy to his Thoughts.
Endy.
I'le try if I can hear what resolution
The Kings enrag'd Passion makes him take.
[He retires.
King.
Pyrrhus! how thrives my Love? I have
Intrusted you with all I am, and all I wish for.
Pyrr.
Sir, I have already done,
What Language and Rewards have power to do
King.
And what return am I to hope for then?
Pyrr.
There's little hope: This Ermin will not be
Perswaded from the whiteness she so Loves.
King.
Poor Country Girl, where can she find Words
Or Resolution when you do assault her?
Pyrr.
When I first
Mention'd the business to her, all alone,
Poor soul she blush'd, as if already she
Had done some harm by hearing of me speak:
(So true, so Native) down her fairest Cheeks,
As if she thought her self oblig'd to weep
That all the World was not as good as she.
Endym.
Heaven! how does this Carriage please me!
King.
This Modesty of hers inflames me more.
As springs are hottest in the coldest weather.
Pyrr.
Her Tears so innocently begg'd my pity,
That I was straight turn'd over to her side,
And had forgot the Cause for which I strove:
Till rallying agen, I once more gave
A new assault, and urg'd her to answer:
All her reply was no: then humbly pray'd me,
Not to be Cruel to a poor weak Maid,
Who had not any thing, in all the World,
To give her value but her Innocence;
With such Success as this I often have
Assail'd her Vertue.
King.
Ah Pyrrhus! where will this Tyrant end? shall I
Still be Priest, and Sacrifice, and Altar too,
Unto a Passion, I can satisfie,
But never Conquer? What poor things are Kings?
What poorer things are Nations to obey
Him whom a petty Passion does Command?
Heav'n! why was man made so ridiculous?
Pyrr.
Your Majesty sayes that of yourself,
Which were Impiety in any else,
But once to think.
King.
Men but Flatter me.
Oh Fate! why were not Kings made more than men?
Or why will people have us to be more?
Alas! we govern others, but our selves
We cannot rule, like to our Eyes, that see
All other things, but Cannot see themselves.
Pyrr.
Sir, do not discompose your self; you may
Soon Quench this mighty Flame, and where your Prayers
Have not prevail'd, your Power may Command:
Who in Arcadia dares resist your Will?
O Villain! This will make thee Chief among
The damn'd in Hell.
King.
But stay! when this poor Maid
Shall Call on Vertue, and the Gods to keep
Her body, they too weakly have Expos'd,
Shall I (whom men call sacred and divine,
And look on as deriv'd from Ancestors
Who have not Tombs, but Altars) without shame,
And thousand blushes, dare with ruder force,
To drive poor Vertue from her Cleanest Temple?
And use that power, the Gods have given me
O're others, but to offend them how I please;
By Heav'n I will not.—But I die—O I am Mortal!—
Pyrr.
Sir, you'r a King; But Love's a Deity,
Must be obey'd by all. Resolve to try
Whether Urania will Love or Die?
Endym.
Heav'n! what do I hear?
King.
O unruly passion! whither will it hurry me?
I must submit; Use all your subtilties
T' entice her to comply with my desires;
But if allurements fail, she must be forc'd,
And let me know my Fate within this hour:
Farewell.
Pyr.
Sir, I shall be diligent in obeying all your Commands.
Exit. King.
Enter Endymion from behind the Arbour.
Endym.
And I'le reward your diligence.
Pyrr.
What does this posture mean?
Endym.
Wert thou not fear'd in Wickedness, thou wouldst.
Not ask; That thou maist know thy Crime I'le write it
In thy own blood, draw quickly or I'le Kill thee
Without defence.
Pyrr.
I am amaz'd, but if you long for action,
Come on, I have a Sword that will employ you.
They fight, Endym. gets Pyrr. down, with his Sword at his breast.
Endym.
Now Villain!
[Enter Cleantha and Urania.
Clean.
Hold, hold! Endymeon!
Endym.
Madam! I obey.
And look you use it better than you have done.
Uran.
Madam! he bleeds, I'le try to bind up his wounds.
Endym.
No dear Urania! 'tis but a scratch, but were
It ne're so deep, one touch of that fair hand
Were a sufficient Balsome.
Clean.
O fie Urania! how unhandy art thou?
Sir, let me practice my little skill in Surgery
Upon you.
She tears her Handkercher, and binds up his wounds.
Endym.
This is an honour Princes should receive
Upon their Knees: I beseech your Highness
Do not humble your self so far; it is
So slight it does not need a Miracle, for so
Ought your Assistance to be valu'd, Madam,
Urania's skill in this would be sufficient.
Clean.
Your Courage makes that seem slight, which others
Would think dang'rous, I'le bind it up.
Endym.
How am I confounded with this favour?
Your Highness does dispence your Charity
As the Gods do to us; not for reward of Merit,
But for Pity, so to inhaunce the value of ther mercy.
Clean.
This Modesty is too much Endymion, 'Tis
Ingratitude to Heaven, when it disclaims
Those Vertuous Endowments it has given you.
But what was the occasion of this Quarrel?
Enter Evadne.
Evad.
The Queen desires your Highness.
To come to her instantly.
Clean.
Come then Endymion, tell me as you go.
Endym.
I will obey your Highness.—
Clean.
But, my Lord, Pyrrhus may tell the King of this; and it
may be your Ruine; 'twill not be safe for you to appear.
Endym.
Madam! he will be unwilling to meet his own ruine,
to procure mine; he has drawn blood within the Court, which your
Highness knows by an indispensable Law is death in Arcadia; hee'l
not betray himself.
My Lord 'tis true, Let's to the Queen—
Exeunt all but Evadne.
Enter Neander.
Nean.
How does this Minute transport my soul with Joy, to have
the blessed priviledge to be with fair Evadne?
Evad.
I am glad it makes some body happy.
Nean.
With her who has my Heart—
Evad.
Have I it? pray my Lord take it agen.
I would not be troubled with keeping such a Bawble for the
World.
Nean.
She whom great Nature (now grown wanton) made to
look upon, and scorn her other Works.
Evad.
My Lord Neander! I see you are resolv'd not to study
to no purpose, you will have out your Complement, let me say
what I please: but I must take liberty to leave you in the middle
of it.
Nean.
Nay, Madam, I beseech you be not so unkind.
Evad.
Nay now I have put you out of your Complement; I care
not if I stay a little longer.
Nean.
Madam! you are Cruel! how do you Kill?
Evad.
Kill Neander? No sure then you would not be so near
me.
Nean.
I ne're could fear death from so fair a hand as yours.
Evad.
I believe indeed, my Lord, you fear death least from the
hands of a Woman, which is the Reason you chuse to stay here at
Court among the Ladies, rather than go to War with the Prince.
Nean.
Madam!—You Ladies have a Priviledge.
Evad.
Yes, my Lord, it's sometimes a priviledge to speak
Truth.
Nean.
'Faith Madam, you may say what you please.
Evad.
Pardon me, my Lord, it would please me much better if
I could say you were in the War in Thessaly.
Nean.
Truly Madam, I could give you very good reasons why I
went not to the War with the Prince.
Evad.
I believe you can, and so can every body else that knows
your Lordship: The first and Chiefest reason was a certain tenderness
you have for the preservation of your Person, some scandalous
people stick not to call it fear.
Do not judge so Madam; I can assure you it was for very
different reasons.
Evad.
You will give very much satisfaction to the World, if you
say what they are.
Nean.
Why then, to tell you the truth, Madam, I am somewhat
troubled with Corns that I cannot without pain wear a riding Boot:
and then I am strangely subject to the Tooth-ach, which makes me
very unfit to lie in the Field, which indeed were the two main Reasons
made me refuse the War.
Evad.
What pity 'tis so brave a Mind should be so unluckily hindred
from shewing it self.
Nean.
I perceive you railly, Madam.
Evad.
I see Sir, you are a man of a quick apprehension.
(Enter Priest.
Priest.
How now Daughter? what do you here? my Lord I do
not desire your Lordship should make any addresses to my Daughter,
her Fortune is too humble for your thoughts.
Nean.
Your servant, Madam.
[Aside]
Pox on this Formal Priest.—
Exit.
Priest.
Well now Evadne, my dear Child, thou art
Come forth upon the Worlds great Stage, and it
Must be my care first to advise thee, then
To pray for thee: Yet thou art innocent,
(Oh maist thou still be so my Child) yet know'st not
Ought but the holy practices of cells,
Where vertuous Matrons have instructed thee.
Evad.
But now the Scene is chang'd, the Queens Commands
Have brought me to the Court to wait on her;
The employment truly noble: and I have
In her the brightest pattern of true vertue
That all the world can boast of.
Priest.
But thou'lt find
Few more besides whose wandring paths are safe:
Those of thy Sex thou't find so strangely vain,
That they think they have wash'd, and patch'd, and curl'd
Themselves ev'n into little Deities:
They do believe that wanton men speak truth,
When to consume those hours, they care not for,
And that they have a killing power, with
A great deal of such amorous fustian;
Evad.
They're very credulous that believe 'em sure.
Priest.
Then, by degrees, they strangely cheat themselves,
Poor souls, into the fond belief that they
Not only are fairest, but wisest too:
And now they are attain'd to that degree,
All must admire, but none must merit them,
Till rugged time, too old to complement,
Takes from 'em all those little ornaments
Which wanton Nature had adorn'd them with;
And then they do Awake, the Dream is done,
The Market falls, and some distressed Knight,
Unenvied, bears away what all had Courted.
Evad.
This is the common Fate of our poor Sex,
When they have great opinions of themselves.
Priest.
Therefore Evadne, let me pray thee still
Keep thy best jewel, thy Humility:
If thou wearest better Cloaths, alas consider,
Each little flower, that does in Meadows grow,
Is better clad than thee, yet is not proud.
Evad.
I will endeavour to obey you in all.
Priest.
Hence maist thou shun the common vice of Courts,
Scorn and contempt of others, which oft have
A nobler Vertue, though a meaner Fortune.
For know, Evadne, that this lower world,
In which we live, is not distributed
According to mens Merits: the Gods preserve
That Justice for those nobler Regions, which
Themselves inhabit: here the mighty are
Like mighty Mountains, high, but seldome fertile.
The richest soyl is in low Valleys found:
Devotion often weeps, in humble cells,
Whilst under-guilded Roofs profaneness sings.
Evad.
I have consider'd often this sad truth.
Priest.
This is the world, Evadne, but to come
To what I've else to say; thy next Temptation
Enow to Court thee: Some 'cause 'tis the Mode,
Others, because they've nothing else to say,
And Wisest men because they think me rich:
But know my Child! to Marry, is
The greatest Action of our Lives, and merits
The greatest of our Cares: but above all I warn thee
Against Neander.
He's a Vicious, Profane, and Idle person,
One, that would make me hate the name of Father,
Should he but call me so? Well, Evadne,
Pray Meditate on what I've said to you,
I'le leave you to your thoughts—
Ex. Priest.
Enter Phronesia.
Evad.
What in tears Phronesia? what's the matter?
Phro.
O Madam! have a care of Marriage, I give you warning
of it.
Evad.
What is the old man Jealous still? It may be you give
him cause.
Phro.
No other Cause but that I am with Child, and he distrusts
himself.
Evad.
Why did he marry you then?
Phro.
Nay I cannot tell not I.
Evad.
Why don't you ask him?
Phro.
I have.
Evad.
And what sayes he?
Phro.
He told me—
Evad.
What?—
Phro.
O Madam! you cannot imagine his wicked Intentions.—
Evad.
What does he say?
Phro.
He told me he marry'd me onely to keep me honest, like
an old Villanous Tyrant as he is.
Evad.
But now it seems he is convinc'd 'tis more than he can do.
Phro.
Every one best knows his own abilities; But why should
he do that to me of all Women? Marry me to keep me honest?
out upon him, I defie him and his wicked intentions.
Evad.
Indeed it is a hard Case.
Ay, Madam, is it not? would you be willing to be us'd
so? Besides, Madam, no man in the Court offers to speak to me,
but he thinks 'tis Love.
Evad.
He thinks you are so handsome, perhaps, that it is impossible
for any man to look upon you without being smitten.
Phro.
That may be something, as you say, Madam, but I will
never put up this Injury: Marry me to keep me honest, quoth I?
I'le never endure it, while I ha' breath:—See Madam—where he
comes—do but observe him.
Enter Geron.
Ger.
I have brought my self into a sweet condition, like
an old fool as I am, why could not I remember how many I
had Cuckolded my self, and to think I should not be serv'd in the
same kind, were to suppose neither Wickedness, nor Justice in the
World.
Phro.
Look, Madam upon this Mischievous Count'nance.
Geron
to himself
How could I imagine that any of these sort of Women
would keep themselves honest three minutes, when they
fear'd neither the danger of taking Savin, nor a great Belly? Heaven!
what a Condition am I in!—now do I plainly perceive the
pain that poor Children indure at the coming of their Teeth, by the
coming of my Horns—Oh Phronesia! are you there?
Phro.
Yes! you old Fumbling Sot I am here.—
Evad.
Fare you well.
Ger.
O wicked Phronesia! how have you us'd me? whom
have you appointed now to do me the Courtesse?—my Lord
Pirrhus—he is of a black Complexion, and that never fails;—
My Lord Endymion's a Poet forsooth, and prevails with Sonnets;—
and for my Lord Neander,—the Priest convinc'd him the other
day, that Adultery was a very great Sin, and that's reason enough
for him to lie at Rack and Manger; I am sure my head must ake
for't.
Phro.
Let it ake on, you old Fop, you marry'd me to keep me
honest, did you? I'le honest you; I will go instantly and meet 'em
all three.
Exit.
But I'le follow you close at the heels, and prevent your
recreation!—
Let him at Threescore marry such a Wife.
Exeunt.
| The Royal Shepherdess | |