University of Virginia Library

Scena III.

Craterus, Antigona.
Craterus.
Antigona , there is no remedy,
You needs must iustifie the speech you held
With Thais, who will your confrence verifie,
And therefore now it can not be conceal'd.

Ant.
O, my good Lord, I pray you vrge me not:
Thais only of a cunning enuious wit,
Scorning a stranger should haue such a lot,
Hath out of her inuention forged it.

Crat.
Why then, shall racks and tortures force thee show
Both this and other matters which we know?
Thinke therefore, if't were not a wiser part
T'accept of rest, rewards, preferment, grace,
And being perhaps, so beautious as thou art,
Of faire election for a neerer place,
To tell the truth, than to be obstinate,
And fall with the misfortune of a man,
Who, in his dangerous and concussed state,
No good to thee but ruine render can.
Resolue thee of this choice, and let me know
Thy minde at full, at my returning backe.

Ant.
What shall I do, shall I betray my Loue,
Or die disgrac'd? What, do I make a doubt!
Betray my Loue! O heauenly pow'rs aboue
Forbid that such a thought should issue out
Of this confused brest: Nay rather first
Let tortures, death and horror do their worst.
But out alas, this inconsiderate tongue,
Without my hearts consent and priuity,
Hath done already this vnwilling wrong,
And now it is no wisdome to deny.
No wisdome to deny! Yes, yes, that tongue
That thus hath beene the traytour to my heart,
Shall either pow'rfully redeeme that wrong,
Or neuer more shall words of breath impart.
Yet, what can my deniall profit him,
Whom they perhaps, whether I tell or not,
Are purpos'd, vpon matters knowne to them,
To ruinate on some discouered plot?
Let them do what they will. Let not thy heart
Seeme to be accessary in a thought,
To giue the least aduantage of thy part,
To haue a part of shame in what is wrought.
O this were well, if that my dangers could
Redeeme his perill, and his grace restore;
For which, I vow, my life I render would,
If this poore life could satisfie therefore.
But tis not for thy honour to forsake
Thy Loue for death, that lou'd thee in this sort.
Alas, what notice will the world take
Of such respects in women of my sort!
This act may yet put on so faire a coate
Vpon my foule profession, as it may
Not blush t'appeare with those of cleanest note,
And haue as hie a place with fame as they.
What do I talke of fame? Do I not see
This faction of my flesh, my feares, my youth
Already entred; and haue bent at me,
The ioyes of life, to batter downe my truth?
O my subdued thoughts! what haue you done?
To let in feare falshood to my heart.
Whom though they haue surpriz'd, they haue not won;
For still my loue shall hold the dearest part.

Crat.
Antigona, What, are you yet resolu'd?

Ant.
Resolu'd, my Lord, t'endure all misery?

Crat.
And so be sure you shall, if that b'your choice.

Ant.
What will you haue me do, my Lord, I am
Content to say what you will haue me say.

Crat.
Then come, go with me to Alexander.

CHORVS.
How dost thou weare, and weary out thy dayes,
Restlesse ambition neuer at an end!
Whose trauels no Herculean pillar stayes,
But still beyond thy rest thy labours tend,
Aboue good fortune thou thy hopes dost raise,
Still climing, and yet neuer canst ascend:
For when thou hast attaind vnto the top
Of thy desires, thou hast not yet got vp.
That height of fortune either is controld
By some more pow'rfull ouerlooking eye,
(That doth the fulnesse of thy grace withhold)
Or counter-checkt with some concurrency,
That it doth cost farre more ado to hold
The height attain'd, than was to get so hie,
Where stand thou canst not, but with carefull toile.
Nor loose thy hold without thy vtter spoile.
There dost thou struggle with thine owne distrust,
And others iealousies, their counterplot,
Against some vnder-working pride, that must
Supplanted be, or els thou standest not,
There wrong is playd with wrong, and he that thrust
Downe others, comes himselfe to haue that lot.
The same concurssion doth afflict his brest
That others shooke, oppression is opprest.
That etheir happinesse dwells not so hie,
Or els aboue, where to pride cannot rise:
And that the highst of mans felicity,
But in the region of affliction lies:
And that we climbe but vp to misery.
High fortunes are but high calamities.
It is not in that Sphere, where peace doth moue;
Rest dwell's below it, happinesse aboue.
For in this height of fortune are imbred
Those thundring fragors that affright the earth:
From thence haue all distemp'ratures their head,
That brings forth desolation, famine, dearth:
There certaine order is disordered:
And there it is confusion hath her birth.
It is that height of fortune doth vndoo
Both her owne quietnesse and others too.