 | Love In it's Extasie : Or, The large Prerogative |  |
Sce. 3.
Enter Virtusus.Vir.
Once more in spight of fortune, and the raging waves
Of a tumultuous Sea, does my unhappy foot
Salute the Earth again. Did ever man
From all eternity behold a night so dismall
Leave behinde no sad remembrance of its former horror?
Here's not a stemm that's widdowed of his leaf,
No, nor one branch become
The hopeless issue of the Husbandman, but all
In a sweet tranquillity enjoy that happiness
Which Nature has allotted them: I am
The onely object of Heavens Tyranny,
Else had these senseless Plants
Perish'd this fatall night, when both the Artick,
And Antartick Poles, striving to kiss each other,
Confounded Heaven, Earth, Sea, Hell, and All
Into an indigested Chaos: yet in this dire
Confusion of the Elements, these stand untoucht
Outbraving Fortunes Malice, whil'st wretched I,
The heavens least part of care,
Was banded too and fro by the immerciless winds
Uncertain of a rest, and had not the thought
Of thee my Thesbia, ballanc't my tottering soul,
The insatiate bosome of the Ocean
Had been my wish't for grave.
Sir, the fortune of the Sea having cast me,
A sad and desolate man, upon the Confines
Of an unknown Land, I must desire
Your charitable disposition to declare
Your Countreys name unto me.
Fid.
Most willingly. Know sir you are cast
Upon a most unfortunate shore, Lelybæus
Is the Countreys Name, one of the three
Promontorian Kingdoms of famous Scicily.
Vir.
Heavens, now I see ye are not altogether cruell:
This is the happy Countrey that my voyage aim'd at.
Fid.
Call it not happy sir, for tis the most
Infortunat'st habitation that ever man enjoy'd.
Vir.
It seems not so by the outward Appearance.
Fid.
Oh no! Nature has bedeck't it with the best
Of all her ornaments, nor could she, if she would
Create another world, frame any part
To parallel with this.
Vir.
What diastrous chance then
Has made it thus unfortunate?
Fid.
Pardon me if I refuse to tell you that,
The relation whereof would draw tears
From my ore-charged eyes. Let this Decree
Inform you sir.
He gives him a paper, and he reads.
Heavens I thank ye: This curtesie
Will make me dye ungratefull to your bounty.
Oh how my soul now gluts it self, to see his enemy
Thus offer'd as a sacrifice to his incensed Ire!
Just anger seise me then, and Constantina,
Let the thoughts of thy sad sufferings
Inspire my soul with vengeance, arm my strength
With a Revenge as ample as the cause:
Yet Prince Virtusus I'le not kill thee basely;
That were to mistrust my cause, which is as just
As heavens are innocent, Thou shalt not dye
For to be dam'd in ignorance: No, I'le summon
All thy faults, and thunder 'um to thy ears;
If then thy treachery has not exil'd thy valour,
Let thy sword plead thy innocence:
By which most noble pleading thou shalt dye
Honor'd, by my Revenges charity.
Vir.
Oh my unjuster stars! Why did ye stop
The Oceans mouth, denying me an entrance,
Yet bring me here to be entomb'd
Alive upon the shore? was it because I fear'd
Your threatning waves, or that the louder windes
Strake terror to my affrighted Conscience? This cannot be:
For how oft in scorn has my undaunted sighs
Ecchoed the blustering winds, and my full tide eyes
For fear of scarcity, how oft have they
Replenished the waves, and nourish'd
The decaying Billowes? Yet must all this be
The Prologue only to my ensuing Tragedy?
Oh cruell Pity! Oh inhumane charity!
Enter Charastus.
Fid.
Peace sir: The King.
They Kneel.
Cha.
Why kneel ye unto me sirs?
If I have not deserv'd your pity,
I have not deserv'd your scorn I am sure.
Fid.
The Heavens forbid, when ere I see
Such Beames of Majesty, that I should presume
To approach without that awfull adoration
Which my Allegiance payes unto my Soveraign.
Cha.
'Tis true, good Subjects ought to do so:
But when a Lyon's dead, the baser Ass
Will come, and trample on him,
And spurn that face, which when alive
Was death to look on.
Fid.
Such incivility becomes the Beasts;
But man whose purer soul
Claimes something of divinity, can easily discern
That sacred Majesty which on Kings
Hang like the Gods refin'd Idæas: He cannot be
So foolishly impious, to think the Sun,
Because oft times he does obscure himself
Under the gloomy shade of some gross exhalation,
That he never will again come to his pristine splendor.
How oft do we see those blazing Members
Which though compos'd of exhalations
Covet the highest Region, where hurried
With their vain imaginations for a while they reign,
Contracting their own ruine that at length will come
As suddenly as fearfull? Such will Bermudo's fall be,
And the higher he lifts his towting thoughts,
The deadlier will his precipice become.
Cha.
Canst thou perceive that Majesty which to Kings
Is still essentiall, and speak these words against
Thy lawfull Soveraign? Surely thou art no Scicilian.
Fid.
I am great sir, and yet dare say
'Tis virtue makes a King: Majestie without that
Is a disjoynted structure that must fall,
And come to ruine. 'Tis not a Crown alone
That I adore, for should I dote on that,
And slight the goodness which you are Master of,
I were worse than he, that fears the Idoll,
Yet contemnes the Godhead: since then Bermudo
Wants the better part of King, a Royall soul,
I'le look on him, as on polluted incense,
Sacred, though not holy; And on you, as on
An unfurnish'd Temple, pious, though not glorious.
Then pardon sir, if I prefer an undecent sanctity
Before a comely wickedness.
Cha.
Couldst thou distinguish, I confess 'twere just:
But since wise Nature has ordain'd
Goodness essentiall to Supremacy, 'tis fit
You serve and honour him.
Fid.
And so I will: but it must he
As Infidels do Devils, for fear, not love.
Far be it from me fir to confine
Goodness to Greatness only, or suppose that man
Is solely Royall that's ambitious;
That were to thinke the Heavens an easie spunge,
From which the daring soul
Squeases his ends out: He rather fir is great
That dares be good.
Cha.
Then thou art great I swear; exceeding great:
Thou canst distinguish between good and good.
Had I had such an intellectuall soul
To put a difference 'twixt those attributes
That make a King compleat, the gilded flashes of his tongue
Would then have rendred him, as far contemptible,
As now he is fatall. Come nearer to us Shepherd:
Nay! flatter not a falling greatness;
To kneel unto an Altar that's defac't
Smels more of Superstition than Devotion.
Arise, worthy our Armes,
And if thou needs will serve thy King
In me his small Epitome, chide not his folly
With his strickt observance; to make him Master
Of those joyes, which be han's power to command,
Is exprobation not affection.
Vir.
Noble Charastus!
Thy miseries cannot outvie thy virtues,
Nor can they suffer an ignoble act
To derogate from fortunes Conquest,
Though she has made thy sufferings
Ample as her power. Wonder not, great Prince,
Who 'tis dares Comment on thy miseries,
Since none can truly know a Kingdomes loss,
But he that feels it.
Cha.
If thou hast lost one then,
And that experience stimulates this boldness,
I shall rejoice in thy society: I oft have seen
A feather'd Captive sadly in a cage
Mourning in silence his determin'd freedome,
But having got a partner of his sufferings, the silly Bird,
As if revived by anothers mischief,
Has from his drousie taciturnity awak't,
Chirping sweet Io Pæans to our ravish't ears,
Untill his eyes became the sad oblation
Of his fainting voyce.
Vir.
Behold a partner then, One
Horrid as Cowards fears, or midnight apprehensions,
Strove to appall his courage, yet to him
Those Panick horrors seem'd but painted fires
Quench't with the smallest drop of's resolution.
Behold a Prince equally distressed:
But if our sympatheticall disasters
Has not created an instinct to know me,
Summe up your patience sir, and that will tell you
That none can parallell its fortitude,
Except Pachynas Prince, Infortunate Virtusus.
Cha.
Stay, and ere thou further speak'st
Let me survey thee fully, for in thee is drawn
The just resemblance of my misery.
By all our former happiness! 'Tis rarely limm'd;
Fortune, thou hadst eyes, thou nere couldst
Copie me so truly else.
Oh Royall Prince, my woes sad character!
Let us incorporate, and be one,
One Monumentall Trophee of misfortune.
Bear witness oh thou sacred Register of united hearts,
How Virtusus here ioyes to behold Charastus there.
Vir.
Alli'd thus by misfortune, our united wills
Shall hate a separation. One act wee'l still pursue;
One thought wee'l think; One soul wee'l have;
One heart, and one Ambition.
Cha.
Ambition! In that wee'l imitate our mother Earth,
To fall is her Ambition, should she aspire,
'Twere not Ambition, because not naturall.
Vir.
This Union sown in tears
Shall rise in glory; my prophetick soul divines it:
Mean while wee'l live here in these woods disguis'd,
Sometimes wee'l visit Court, and see if Fate
Will put a period to our sufferings, till then
From you renowned Shepherd we must crave concealment.
Fid.
Your graces may command your humblest vassall.
I have a story of my own to tell you; But for a while
I must crave leave to lie conceal'd.
Cha.
Then wee'l not urge it.
Hence, hence Ambition now, and all those pleasing thoughts,
Which Crowns and Scepters whistled to our ears,
The silent Groves, and murmuring streams,
The shadie woods, and whistling windes, will be,
A recreation beyond Court vanities. There we three
Will fancy to our selves a Triarchy.
Exeunt.
| Love In it's Extasie : Or, The large Prerogative | |