University of Virginia Library

Scæn. 1.

Enter Dutchess and Celia.
Dutch.
Seek out the lightest colours can be got;
The youthful'st dressings; Tauny is too sad.
I am not thirty yet, I have wronged my time,
To go so long in black, like a Petitioner.
See that the Powder that I use about me,
Be rich in Cassia.

Cel.
Here's a sudden change.

Dutch.
Oh I'm undone in Faith: Stay, art thou certain
Lactantio, Nephew to the Cardinal,
Was present in the late entertainment of the General?

Cel.
Upon my reputation with your Excellence,
These eyes beheld him: He came foremost, Madam,
'Twas he in black and yellow.

Dutch.
Nay, 'tis no matter, either for himself
Or for the affectation of his colours,
So you be sure he was there.

Cel.
As sure as sight
Can discern man from man, Madam.

Exit.
Dutch.
It suffices.
Oh an ill cause had need of many helps,
Much art, and many friends, I, and those mighty,
Or else it sets in shame. A Faith once lost,
Requires great cunning, er't be entertain'd
Into the Brest of a belief again.
There's no condition so unfortunate,
Poor, miserable, to any Creature given,
As hers that breaks in vow, she breaks with Heaven:

Enter Lord Cardinal.
L. Card.
Increase of health, and a redoubled courage
To Chasteties great Soldier: what so sad Madam?
The memorie of her seven yeares deceased Lord
Springs yet into her eyes, as fresh and full
As at the seaventh houre after his departure:
What a perpetual Fountain is her vertue?
Too much to afflict your self with ancient sorrow
Is not so strictly for your strength requird:
Your vow is charge enough, beleive me 'tis Madam,
You need no waightier task.

Dutch.
Religious Sir,
You heard the last words of my dying Lord.

L. Card.
Which I shall nev'r forget.

Dutch.
May I entreat
Your goodness but to speake'em over to me
As neere as memory can befriend your utterance,
That I may think a while I stand in presence
Of my departing Husband.

L. Card.
What's your meaning?
In this most vertuous Madam?

Dutch.
'Tis a curtesie
I stand in need of Sir, at this time specially,
Urge it no further yet; as it proves to me,
You shall hear from me, onely I desire it
Effectually from you Sir, that's my request.

L. Card.
I wonder, yet I'll spare to question farther.
You shall have your desire.

Dutch.
I thank you Sir.
A blessing come along with't.

L. Card.
You see my Lords, what all Earths glory is
Rightly defin'd in me, uncertain breath;
A dream of threescore years to the long sleeper,
To most not half the time. Beware Ambition,
Heaven is not reach'd with Pride, but with submission.
And you Lord Cardinal labor to perfect
Good purposes begun, be what you seem,
Stedfast, and uncorrupt, your actions noble,
Your goodness simple, without gain or art,
And not in vesture hollier then in heart.
But 'tis a pain, more then the pangs of death,
To think that we must part, Fellows of life.
Thou richness of my joys, kinde and deer Princess.
Death had no sting, but for our separation,
T'would come more calm then an ev'nings peace,
That brings on rest to labors: Thou art so precious,
I should depart in everlasting envy
Unto the man, that ever should enjoy thee:
Oh a new torment strikes his force into me,
When I but think on't, I am rack'd and torn,
Pity me in thy vertues.

Dutch.
My lov'd Lord,
Let you confirm'd opinion of my life,
My love, my faithful love, seal an assurance
Of quiet to your spirit, that no forgetfulness
Can cast a sleep so deadly on my Sences,
To draw my affections to a second liking.

L. Card.
'T'as ever been the promise, and the spring
Of my great love to thee. For once to marry
Is honorable in woman, and her ignorance
Stands for a vertue, coming new and fresh;
But second marriage shews desires in flesh:
Thence lust, and heat, and common custom grows,
But she's part Virgin, who but one man knows.
I here expect a work of thy great Faith,
At my last parting, I can crave no more,
And with thy vow, I rest my self for ever,
My soul and it shall flie to Heaven together:
Seal to my spirit, that quiet satisfaction,
And I go hence in Peace.

Dutch.
Then here I vow, never.

L. Card.
Why Madam?

Dutch.
I can go no further.

L. Card.
What have you forgot your vow?

Dutch.
I have, too certainly.

L. Card.
Your vow? that cannot be; it follows now,
Just where I left.

Dutch.
My frailty gets before it,
Nothing prevails but ill.

L. Card.
What ail you Madam?

Dutch.
Sir, I'm in love.

L. Card.
Oh all you powers of Chastity,
Look to this woman, let her not faint now
For honor of your selves: If she be lost,
I know not where to seek my hope in woman.
Madam, Oh Madam.

Dutch.
My desires are sickned
Beyond recovery of good counsel Sir.

L. Card.
What mischeif ow'd a malice to the Sex,
To work this spightful ill; better the man
Had never known Creation, then to live
Th'unlucky ruine of so fair a Temple;
Yet think upon your vow, revive in Faith,
Those are eternal things. What are all pleasures,
Flatteries of men, and Follies upon Earth
To your most excellent goodness? Oh she's dead,
Stark cold to any vertuous claim within her.
What now is heat, is sins. Have I approved
Your constancy for this, call'd your Faith noble,
Writ volumes of your victories and vertues?
I have undone my judgment, lost my praises,
Blemish'd the truth of my opinion.
Give me the man, that I may pour him out
To all contempt and curses.

Dutch.
The mans innocent,
Full of desert and grace, his name Lactantio.

L. Card.
How?

Dutch.
Your Nephew.

L. Card.
My Nephew!

Dutch.
Beshrew the sight of him; he lives not Sir,
That could have conquer'd me, himself excepted.

L. Card.
He that I lov'd so dearly, does he wear
Such killing poyson in his eye to sanctity?
He has undone himself for ever by't,
Has lost a friend of me, and a more sure one.
Farewel all natural pitty, though my affection
Could hardly spare him from my sight an hour,
I'll lose him now eternally, and strive
To live withont him; he shall straight to Rome.

Dutch.
Not if you love my health, or life, my Lord.

L. Card.
This day he shall set forth:

Dutch.
Dispatch me rather.

L. Card.
I'll send him far enough.

Dutch.
Send me to death first.

L. Card.
No Basilisk that strikes dead pure affection
With venemous eye, lives under my protection.

Exit.
Dutch.
Now my conditions worse then ev'r 'twas yet,
My cunning takes not with him: Has broke through
The Net, that with all art was set for him,
And left the snarer here herself intangled
With her own toils. Oh what are we poor souls,
When our dissembling fails us? Surely Creatures
As full of want, as any Nation can be
That scarce have food to keep bare life about 'em:
Had this but took effect, what a fair way
Had I made for my love to th'General,
And cut of all suspect, all reprehension?
My hopes are kill'd i'th'blossom.

Exit.