 | The Female Rebelion |  |
SCENE 2d.
Enter Antiopa, Penthesilea, & Celeno (from ye left.)Pen.
Is the Queen gone? I'll fly till I overtake her.
[Penth. offers to go forth at the right, Anti. stops her.
Anti.
Stay, Major General.
Pen.
Time its self shall stay
As soon as I: My Pulse sounds as it beats, and do[e]s alarum me
all o're to be in Action.
Anti.
Consult first, then complain.
Pen.
Is this the souldiers thanks, who're cured of wounds
O'er night, but to be killed out right next morn?
Must we loose all the fruits of Victory
By her we guarded? perish by forgiving?
Rapine and slaughter are our Rights & Vertues;
But Pity is a rust eats through our courage.
Cele.
Lievtenant General, I thought to have gain'd booty enough
by this defeat to ha' bribed my self into some good office, where I
might have cheated her Majesty by her own Authority; And then
have [been] Preferr'd to a higher place, for making such Ingenious
use of a lower.
Pen.
But I'd have Massacred those salvages, and with their corps
manured the lands they trampled down in their march, that so they
rotting where they spoil'd, our Earth too might have satisfaction.
Cele.
Yet I'd have first got a harvest out of those clods.
Ant.
Commissary General, what benefit could you imagin from
such Natural Antics?
Cele.
Why some of 'em I'd have show'd about for Satyrs; the
difference is, Satyrs Tails grow out behind, and Scythians long beards
are tails before; Others I'd have baited out of their wits with our
womens Tongues, whose deafening Noise is so loud it sours their own
Bedlams.
Ant.
Yet what is more monstrous, the Queen prostitutes our whole
Interest to these Prodigies.
Pen.
Were we all made to serve one woman's call?
No more than all heavens eys to watch this ball.
[Pen. spurns the ground and strives to go forth: Anti. hinders her again.
Ant.
Stay, as you hate repentance; you should fawn
Where you abhor, cringe low as Earth to those
You wish beneath it; Kneeling kiss their shaddows,
As if you would wear out yr Lipps in service;
Thus subtil serpents creep upon their bosoms,
While they spit venom,—softly twining round
Those they embrace to Death; Get a Tongue too
Forked like theirs, still have a double meaning;
And hold with Two sides to betray them both.
Catch some like Dotterils by complaisant Postures;
Burst 'em with laughter, or with Tears dissolve 'em;
Others raise high with praise, to fall more lowe;
Ne're fix your Eye, where you intend the blow.
Pen.
I scorn such servile Policy, 'tis a vizor,
Which, as it hides us, does obstruct our sight;
Making us loose the seasons fit for Action
In Blind debates; While Passion, like a torrent,
Still hurrying forward, forces a success;
And by its hast surprizes happyness.
Ant.
No, it will post you into horrid dangers.
Pen.
Horror its self rouzed from its loathsom dungeon,
With all its train of gastly Apparitions
Grinning about it, cannot show a Visage
So Dreadfull, but I dare alone out face it.
Sure she's transported with Enthusiasms.
Ant.
But 'tis for the Publick good.
Cele.
Pish, let them stand for that, who have a mind to be
gull'd with Public faith; I'm for no invisible Pay.
Ant.
Why, is not goodness its own recompence?
Cel.
Yea, to religious fools, that forlorn hope of mortals, who
can be put off with celestial reversions; but doomsday's so long a
coming, I'd not be tyed to go to Paradise, without an Antepast of
reward here, why should not I as well be hired for the Journey, as the
Priest is but for telling the way?
Ant.
Would not your Conscience tremble to desert us?
Cel.
Tush! That Ague of the mind never shakes me, why scarce
a scruple of conscience will now be endured, since hardness of heart
is as an Infallible symptom of a tender conscience, as a brazen face
is of a tender scull.
Ant.
I confess mony's a sure trump at all games.
Cel.
Therfore I am such an Idolater of Coin, I can defy ye Queen
her self out of pure Reverence to her Image; Gold's deifying power
can make a senseless calf adored.
Ant.
But see our Consorts!
[Jasius, Ericthonius, and Ilus Appear, with their backs toward the stage, on the right.
Pen.
I hate to mind such baubles now as men.
Cel.
They are but our drudges, to do that for us we can't do for
ourselves, and get us posterity to predominate over them.
Ant.
Though our cheif founders (when their Husbands dy'd in
the bed of honour) did ordain, no Amazons should love their men,
least thence our Mastery might weaker grow, yet they may dote on us.
Cel.
But in token of deference, they ought to observe our seasons;
company at best is but necessary Folly.
Ant.
Then let's retire, and perfect our new model.
[Exeunt all (at the left.)
| The Female Rebelion | |