 | The Vnnatvrall Combat |  |
Scæna tertia.
Loud musicke, Montrevile, Belgarde, Beaufort junior, Beaufort senior, Malefort, followed by Montaigne, Chamont Lanour.Beauf. sen.
All honours we can give you and rewards
Though all that's rich, or pretious in Marsellis
Were layd downe at your feet, can hold no waight
With your deservings, let me glory in
Your action as if it were mine owne,
And have the honour with the armes of love,
To embrace the great performer of a deed,
Mont.
Imagine, noble Sir, in what we may
Expresse our thankfulnesse, and rest assur'd
It shall be freely granted.
Cham.
Hee's an enemie
To goodnesse and to vertue, that dares thinke
There's any other thing within our power to give,
Which you in justice may not boldly challenge.
Lan.
And as your owne, for we will ever be
At your devotion.
Mal.
Much honour'd Sir,
And you my noble Lords, I can say onely,
The greatnesse of your favours overwhelme me,
And like too large a saile, for the small barke
Of my poore merits, sinks me. That I stand
Vpright in your opinions, is an honour
Exceeding my deserts, I having done
Nothing but what in dutie I stood bound to:
And to expect a recompence were base,
Good deeds being ever in themselves rewarded.
Yet since your liberall bounties tell me that
I may with your allowance be a Suitor,
To you my Lord I am an humble one,
And must aske that, which knowne, I feare you will
Censure me over-bold.
Beauf. sen.
It must be something
Of a strange nature, if it finde from me
Deniall or delay.
Mal.
Thus then my Lord,
Since you encourage me: You are happie in
A worthy sonne, and all the comfort that
Fortune has left me is one daughter; now
If it may not appeare too much presumption,
To seeke to match my lownesse with your height,
I should desire (and if I may obtaine it,
I write Nil ultra to my largest hopes)
She may in your opinion be thought worthy
And married to your sonne: their yeares are equall,
And their desires I thinke too, she is not
Ignoble, nor my state contemptible,
And if you thinke me worthy your alliance,
'Tis all I doe aspire to.
Beauf. jun.
You demand
That which with all the service of my life
I should have labour'd to obtaine from you.
O, Sir, why are you slow to meet so faire
And noble an offer? Can France shew a virgin
That may be parallel'd with her? Is she not
The Phœnix of the time? the fairest star
In the bright sphere of women?
Beauf. sen.
Be not rap'd so:
Though I dislike not what is motion'd, yet
In what so neere concernes me, it is fit
I should proceed with judgement.
Enter Vsher, Theocrine, Page, Women.
Beauf. jun.
Here she comes,
Looke on her with impartiall eyes, and then
Let envie if it can, name one grac'd feature
In which she is defective.
Mal.
Welcome Girle:
My joy, my comfort, my delight, my all,
Why dost thou come to greet my victorie
In such a sable habit? this shew'd well
When thy father was a prisoner, and suspected;
But now his faith and loyaltie are admir'd,
Rather than doubted, in your outward garments
You are to expresse the joy you feele within;
Nor should you with more curiousnesse and care,
Pace to the Temple to be made a Bride,
Than now, when all mens eyes are fixt upon you,
You should appeare to entertaine the honour
From me descending to you, and in which
You have an equall share.
Heaven has my thankes
With all humility payd for your faire fortune,
And so farre duty bindes me, yet a little
To mourne a brothers losse however wicked,
The tendernesse familiar to our sex
May if you please excuse
Mal.
Thou art deceiv'd.
Hee living was a blemish to thy beauties,
But in his death gives ornament, and lustre
To thy perfections, but that they are
So exquisitly rare, that they admit not
The least addition. Ha! heres yet a print
Of a sad teare on thy cheeke, how it takes from
Our present happinesse! with a fathers lips,
A loving fathers lips, i'll kisse it off
The cause no more remembred.
Theo.
You forget Sir
The presence we are in.
Mal.
Tis well considered,
And yet who is the owner of a treasure,
Above all valew, but without offence,
May glory in the glad possession of it.
Nor let it in you excellence beget wonder,
Or any here that looking on the daughter,
I feast my selfe in the imagination
Of those sweet pleasures, and allowd delights,
I tasted from the mother, who still lives
In this her perfit modell, for she had
Such smooth & high archd brows, such sparkling eies
Whose every glance stord Cupids emptied quiver;
Such ruby lips, and such a lovely browne,
Disdaining all adulterate ayds of art,
Kep'd a perpetuall spring upon her face,
As death himselfe lamented being forc'd
To blast it with his palenesse, and if now,
Her brightnes dimd with sorrow, take and please you,
Thinke think young Lord, when she appeares her selfe
How farre she will transport you.
Beauf. jun.
Did she need it,
The praise which you (and well deservd) give to her
Must of necessity raise new desires
In one indebted more to yeares; to me
Your words are but as oyle powr'd on a fire,
That flames already at the height.
Mal.
No more;
I doe believe you, and let me from you
Finde so much credit, when I make her yours
I doe possesse you of a gift, which I
With much unwillingnesse part from. My good Lords
Forbeare your further trouble, give me leave, for on the suddaine I
am indisposd to retire to my owne house, and rest. To morrow
As you command me I will be your ghest,
And having deckt my daughter like her selfe,
You shall have farther conference.
Beauf. sen.
You are Master
Of your owne will but fayle not i'll expect you.
To young Beaufort and the rest.
Mal.
Nay I will be excusd; I must part with you
My dearest Theocrine give me thy hand,
I will support thee.
Theo.
You gripe it too hard Sir.
Mal.
Indeed I doe, but have no farther end in it,
But love and tendernesse such as I may challenge
And you must grant. Thou art a sweet one yes
And to be cherished.
They goe off several wayes
Theo.
May I still deserve it.
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