 | The Obstinate Lady |  |
Actus secundi
Scena prima.
Enter Lorece and Jaques.Lor.
I am beholding to thee Iaques.
Iaq.
I will be dutiful to your Worship.
Lor.
I should be glad to cope with your Lady, now
methinks I am of a prompter expression then usual:
Lovers and the Muses are cater-cousins.
My Vandona, Iaques.
Iaq.
I must vanish like a mist.
Exit.
Lor.
Farewell grave Titan.
Ile out with a Poetical Soliloquie in her hearing for my Preludium.
The gaudy Stars are not more full of glee,
When golden Phebus setteth in the West;
Nor do the cheerful Birds with more delight
Rejoyce at the new Livery of the spring;
Then I to have this miracle of beauty
Enter within the knowledge of mine eyes.
Van.
He speaks well, I woo'd he meant earnest. The
Gentleman seems very deserving: but he is something
wild.
Lor.
She shall be stoutly accosted. Impudency is a
very happy quality in a wooer.
Van.
A comes.
Lor.
Lady, you are not a puny in the Court of Cupid,
of an annual service. I am bold to
tell you plainly, I love you, and (if I find occasion)
I will maintain it boldly.
Van.
I pray you (Mr. Lorece) desist.
Lor.
Never my sweet Vandona; my descent (I know)
you doubt not, and my affection you need not.
Whilest I live I shall love you, and (if you die)
your memory.
Van.
I shall be catch'd. We widows are glass mettal,
soon broke.
Lor.
I can do no more Lady, and I will do no less.
Van.
Your habit, carriage, and discourse, Sir, shew
you a Traveller.
Lor.
My boldness she means. Sweetest Vandona, I
have been one. The habits, conditions, and situations
of many great kingdoms I have exactly
gathered into my table-books: and also my fortnights
observation of the Antipodes.
Van.
O strange! have you been there? I wonder
how you came thither.
Lor.
I will tell you Lady. When I was bound thither,
I was in Asia at Taxcallau; there we took
ship, and in a pair of Oares sailed to Madrid, the
Catholique Kings Court. From thence to Naples
in Savoy, from Naples to Crema, and thence to
Alexandria, where against a tree we suffered shipwrack.
Into a new Phaluk therefore we got us,
which was rigg'd for Francfort, where shortly after
we arrived, victual'd our Gondalo, and threw
Van.
Tis a great way thither.
Lor.
Thence we went to Lisbon, and after to Mantua,
and the next morning we came to the Antipodes,
at twy-light i'th afternoon.
Van.
What sights saw you there Sir?
Lor.
So many sights (dear Lady) that they almost
made me blind.
Van.
Relate a few.
Lor.
First, Lady, the King is no man.
Van.
I believe you Sir, for it never could enter my
mind that any man inhabited there.
Lor.
There they have no houses, but the Emperours
Palace, where Sir Francis Drake was entertain'd,
after he had shot the Pyrænæan Gulfe, upon
the Mediterranean mount in Russia.
Van.
Where then lies all the Court, I wonder?
Lor.
In the Court Mistris.
Van.
I guess hem but cold lodgings.
Lor.
Your Ladyship is mistook: they are never a
cold; For the Sun, being never above a hundred
degrees above Saturn, makes that Climate as hot
as Norway. They at the Antipodes hear with their
noses, smell with their ears, see by feeling, but
taste with all their Senses: for they are the most
insatiable gluttons under the cope: and feel not
any thing;
Van.
This is wonderful. And I cannot imagine
how their senses can be so contrary to ours.
No! did you never hear (excellent Vandona)
that they are opposite to us?
Van.
O yes! I have indeed.
Lor.
I will now tell you Madam something of the
South Indies.
Van.
Has not the Mogul of Persia his bread thence?
Lor.
The King of Spain hath his gold there, of which
the Hollanders took a great prize, when they won
the silver Fleet.
Van.
How I was mistook!
Lor.
I will give you the situation of the Countrey.
Some of the ancient Geographers, as Heliodorus,
the Knight o'th Sun, Amadis de Guale, and Palmerin
de Oliva, affirm it to lie a thousand Italian
miles from the Isthmos of Corinth: but some modern
writers, as Don Quixot, Parismus, Montelion,
and Mervin, say it is a Peninsula in Arabia Fœlix,
where the Phœnix is. But learned Hollinshed affirms,
the South Indies are separated from Armenia
by the Calidonean Forrest, from Asia Minor
by the Venetian Gulfe, and from China by a great
brick wall. There instead of Chery-stones children
play with Pearls: and (for glass) the windows
are of broad Diamonds. Hunters there have
no horns but the Unicorns; no water runs there
but Scamander, Simois, Aganippe, Hippocrene, and
the like. There are no hills but Olympus, Ida, and
Parnassus. No valley but Tempe of Ascra and Margiana;
no men but of the off-spring of Scipio Affrican,
Iulius Cæsar, Alexander the Great, Hector,
Van.
It is a pleasant Countrey sure!
Lor.
I will now tell you the conditions of our neighbour
Nations. The Spaniards are humble, the
Italians chast, the French peaceful, the Dutch sober,
and the Irish cleanly. I came at last to Virginia,
where I saw nothing more worthy mention
then an honest woman who cast her self into the
sea because no body would lie with her. In conclusion;
at Iames Town Port I took horse, and
the next morning (after a long and tedious journey)
arrived in Wales.
Van.
And what did you there Mr. Lorece?
Lor.
As soon as I could I went to Merlins Cave,
which is obscurely situated on the top of a Beech,
where all the night he lay on the ground.
Van.
What was he Sir?
Lor.
He was an intricate Prognosticator of firmamental
Eclipses, and vaticinated future Occurrents
by the mysterious influences of the sublime
Stars, and vagabundical Planets; generated he
was by the inhumane conjunction of an Incubus;
And was immur'd alive in a cave, by the preeminent
Magick of the Lady of the Lake.
Van.
You frequent Playes, do you not?
Lor.
They are most commonly my afternoons employment.
Van.
I like him the better for it.—
Aside.
Van.
And you have read many Histories?
Lor.
Many, Lady. I am a worm in a book, I go
through them.
This pleases me too— aside.
Farewel Sir.
Lore.
Admired Philoclea, leave me not so.
Van.
What would you have?
Lore.
Your consent Lady.
Van.
Expect that a month or two hence.
Lore.
Dear Vandona, sweet Mistress!
Van.
Indeed you must.
Lore.
Nay, sweet Oriana.
Van.
Y'are two importunate.
Lore.
Excellent Claridiana, Polinarda, Laurana, Bradamant.
Exit Van.
It makes no matter, I am sure to have her: how
some women are taken with strange tales!
Hercules could not wooe a Lady better.
Ent. Iaques.
Now my old Anchises! how dost true penny! Be
merry Iaques.
Iaq.
Is she tender-hearted?
Lor.
Respectful and pliant.
Iaq.
Good truth I am glad on't Sir; my Lady
(though I say it) is of a very good nature, my
mind alwaies gave me she would be coming on.
Lore.
Thou shalt find me so.
Exuent.
Scena secunda.
Enter Cleanthe sola.Cle.
Imperious Love (that hatest whom thou
woundest, and lovest those best thou dost
let alone)
Can move thee to commiseration,
Instruct me how to win him, and (when I
Disclose my self) assist a wretched woman;
For it is in thy power to work my bliss.
He dotes upon a Lady that regards
None of those miseries he undergoes
By languishing for her, with one fair stroke
Thy ignominy redeem: thou art cal'd blind,
Because how thou dost shoot thou dost not mind.
But what availes it me thus to implore,
Or rather to reiterate those deep wishes,
Millions of houres can witness I have say'd,
And yet find no help? Ah my dear, and ever
Most lov'd Carionil, would thou wert so
Strongly inflam'd as I, or didst conceive,
Truly didst know, what misery lies here!
I think (though thou hadst suckt a ravenous Wolf)
It would overcome thy nature, and thereby
Transform my sorrow to felicity.
Enter Carionil.
Car.
I cannot hope, a letter I have writ
And bring so good success I wish it may:
Sure never man so passionately ado'rd
A Lady of so froward a disposition;
If I could know the cause she is unkind
I would destroy it, or destroy my self.
Anclethe! art thou there my boy? alas!
Why dost thou weep?
Clea.
To see the sorrow you are alwaies in,
And not to know wherefore. Though I (Sir) am
Both young and little, I both dare, and would
Venter my life to do your any service
That may redeem you happy daies again.
Car.
Alas poor boy! it is past thy redress;
Yet I do thank thee for thy love unto me.
Enter Rosinda.
Cle.
My Lord, a servant of my Lord Polidacres.
Car.
Tandorix! what news?
Ros.
The Lady Lucora commanded me to deliver
this Paper to you.
Car.
Tis most welcome, would my heart could read
it.
Ros.
I wish he had my daughter: for he's a noble
gentleman.
My Lord, command you me any service?
Car.
Onely my dear respects unto the Lady that
sent you.
Ros.
Farewel Anclethe.
Exit Rosinda.
Car.
SIR,
I
am sorry that (against my use) I cannot answer
you more civilly; but I am blameless: The
fault being in your foolish passion, and not my desire. If
in fairer terms you should receive my reply, I am sure
you would think it some beginning of love to you; according
to your desire I have none, and I wish your love was
so as mine, so we might be friends: yet I love you as a
Gentleman of my acquaintance; but if any more you
trouble me with letters or courting, I will hate you. So
I end,
Her own, Lucora.
This Lady of a humane nature, sure
A woman cannot have so harsh a mind,
So I end! what will she end so alwaies?
O then that I might end even now! that all
The sorrow that possesseth my whole body
In every member, would mutiny against
My heart, that so I might die speedily!
Is it not miraculously strange, that this
Poor microcosme, this little body, should
Contain all the sorrow this great world can
Inflict upon it, and not sink beneath
So huge a burthen? one hill does overcome
The strugling of Enceladus a Giant,
And yet I stand, I live: what, am I of
Lucora's temper, impregnable? oh, oh, oh!
Alas my Master! good my Lord, collect
Your strength, and be not thus effeminate.
Car.
I'me manly boy: for women cannot tell
What thing affliction is, their stony hearts
Relent so little at it in their lovers.
Oh! I shall never have her! now I give
Liberty to a just despaire to wrack me:
And it must ever do so. What a Chaos
Of misery is an unfortunate Lover!
Cle.
I pray you (Sir) put off this vehemency of passion, she will relent.
Car.
Never whil'st I live.
Cle.
She will indeed, I know she will.
Car.
Woo'd she would love me after I am dead for her:
It were some happiness to think that, Anclethe.
Cle.
I doubt not but she will shortly be yours (my Lord)
And weep for joy to hear me make relation
Of this same violent passion you are in now.
Car.
Thou art a good boy, but this Lady, O my heart!
Could sitting down in Cassiopeia's chair,
And kicking proud Arctophylax from the skie;
Could stopping the Septentrian sevenfold teame,
And putting out the starry Eagles eies;
Could swimming violently up those Rocks
From which the Memphian Nilus tumbles down;
Could the compelling of rash Phaetons Sire
To change his course, and run from north to South
A journey through Affrickes dread'st wilderness,
When the Æolians do loudest breath,
And vale the Sun with sandy mountains height;
Enforce her to repent the Tragedy
By these attempts drawn on me, she should find
What truth of love was in her servants mind.
Clea.
Keep back his hands, O heavens, from violent deeds,
Let him not offer injury against
His own dear life.
Car.
I have pratled too much: but I ha done.
No longer shall my happiness be delaid,
Nor the displeased destinies any more
Jeer the sad depth of wretchedness I live in,
Thus—Here I fall her cruel sacrifice.
Clea.
Hold, for heavens sake hold.
Car.
Tis too late to prevent:
Patience Anclethe! commend me to Lucora,
That Angel beauty without Angel pity:
Tell her my wofull story, how (ere since
Thou knew'st me) I have languished for her;
That I have spent whole nights in tears and sighes,
What days in solitude to think of her;
That I did suffer her unkindness, while
I had a dram of patience left within me:
Tell her how her most cruel letter rais'd
A despair higher then my strength, and that
Under her strange unkindness I am faln.
Weep not Anclethe! I am faint, struck dumb.
Fly passionate soul into Elizium.
He faints
O my dear Lord, brave young Carionil,
I'le wash thy wound with tears, stop it with sighes:
Unkindest day that ever wore the sun!
Thou art accurst for giving light unto
His hand to guide it to an act so much
Beneath manhood. O me! I am undone!
What now will my disguise avail me,
Foolish sister Lucora! O ye heavens,
Where lies our difference? are we not the same
By birth on both sides, of one sex? sure nature
Degenerates against it self, or this
Untimely—O ye Gods I dare not name it,
Nor will I believe it; he is alive,
So suddenly the world cannot be ruin'd,
Which is if he be lost; all vertue gone,
All valour, piety, and every thing
Mortality can boast of. My Lord, noble
Carionil! he doth not hear me, alas!
I am for ever most desolate of women:
Injurious heart-strings break, why do you tie
Me to a life millions of degrees more lothsome
Then the forgetful sepulchre of death?
Would some commiserating benevolent star
(Which carries fare in't) would in pitty to
My misery, take me from it: for love he
Lies here this bemoaned spectacle; and shall
My passion be undervalued? tears, nor sighes,
Nor Dirges sung by me eternally,
Can parallel our loves at full, 't must be
The same way, and it shall; the same blade
Tragediously here on my knees; wood some
Kind body would interr us in one tomb:
Be firm my hand, and bold.
Fal.
Anclethe!
Enter Falorus.
Cle.
My Lord Carionil cals, istt you! then—
Fal.
But I must hold you, and bereave your hand.
Cle.
And you may also die, your friend is slain;
My noble Lord Carionil is dead,
The paper in his left hand yet, that brought
His reason into such subjection,
That he even frantickly did stab himself.
Fal.
I will extend my life till I have read it.
He reads the Letter.
This Lady is a rough blown sea, on which
His worthy life has foully suffer'd shipwrack:
I have her! not Mercury pleading in her defence
With Oratory able to stint Ioves wrath
(When he has bespoke thunderbolts of the Cyclops,
To wreak some injury) should ever win me.
To her bed. Polidacre, mew her up
Like Danae in a brazen fort, or else
Make her to answer with her life this murther
She's accessary to: proud piece of vanity!
I do want words to give my thoughts expression;
So much I hate her. Prithee Anclethe pardon
My injury against thy rest, for holding
Thee in a life so loth'd as this is to thee:
Ile lead thee.
Oh, oh!
Cle.
Withhold awhile my Lord: he groans.
Car.
Thou art the cause Lucora, and I must not blame thee:
I struck not that blow right, but this shall do't.
I am fainter then I guess'd, I have not enter'd.
What! who has stole the Stilletto from me?
Boy! Anclethe, restore it as thou lovest me.
Fal.
Carionil, I joy you are recovered:
Death is grown courteous, or by this you had
Been wandring in the Elizian groves.
Car.
My friend Falorus!
Fal.
Your loyall friend. Give me your hand and rise:
—I'me glad to see
Your wound no worse. Twas care and willingness
To die bereft you of your Senses. I will shew you
How you may win your Mistris—you hear me.
Car.
I like it well: it may prevail, I hope
It will.
Fal.
Anclethe had slain himself had I not come.
Car.
Good boy, thou wert too kind.
Cli.
Indeed my Lord I never shall desire to survive you.
Car.
Divulge my death.
Cle.
I will not fail.
Fal.
Why (my Carionil) would you engage
So much your self to any of that sex,
As for a disrespondency to lay
Violent hands upon your self?
Intruth (my friend) I wonder at it justly:
With their endeavours all of them.
Car.
Proceed not (good Falorus) in this language.
Fal.
What good do women! old Amphitrite's face
Is not so full of wrincles, as they are
Of vices.
Car.
No more, as you regard (what alwaies yet
You have profest) our long continued friendship.
Can the just heavens these speeches so allow?
What good do women! I do say what ill?
Who do perform what men can onely will.
Why have we ears, if not to hear the sound
And sacred harmony their tongues compound?
Why have we tears, if not to weep when we
Do chance a woman discontent to see?
Why have we eyes, if not to look upon
Their beauties, natures high perfection?
Why have we tongues, if not to praise them, when
They slander'd are by railings of ill men?
Why have we reason all, if not to deem us
Happy, because some women do esteem us?
Fal.
You are their worthy champion: what I said
Was out of passion for Lucora's dealing.
I will report y'are dead.
Car.
I shall be obliged unto you by't.
Exeunt.
Phy.
My clothes are almost made, and every thing
That does belong unto the habit of
A gentleman, I have prepar'd me richly;
For in these garments I dare not accost her.
I had good fortune to come with Cleanthe,
Who hath been very bountiful unto me.
Enter Polidacre, Rosinda, Antiphila, Lucora, and Nentis.
Pol.
Lady, I take it very kindly you
Would do me such an honour as visit me:
It shall be my study to deserve it.
Ant.
My Lord, this is too ceremonious:
Pray you let us walk.
I much approve of this Aire:
I know no place so sweet about the City.
Ro.
How observant he is! he would fain make it a
match, and I think she is willing enough. But I
shall prevent them with amazement.
Phy.
The heavens (worthy gallants) be serene as
long as you presume under the safety of them.
Pol.
Know you this fellow Tandorix?
Ro.
His name is Draculemion.
Pol.
O! I have heard of him.
Luc.
Tis some frantick.
Pol.
What wind brought you hither?
That which (noble Sir) shall blow me all over
the Universe to do you service.
Pol.
I thank you for your complement, your Captainly
protestation.
Phy.
Brave Bevy of gallants, my purse being Millions
of degrees voyder of money then my heart of
courage, I desire to empty my mouth of words,
to fill up the vacuum of it, if you please to lend
me your attention, and afterwards to commemorate
(with munificence) the worth of my Oration.
Pol.
Sweet Antiphila, what say you?
Anti.
He speaks so strangely I would hear him.
Pol.
Draculemion, you know what to do.
Phy.
Hail (but fair weather) I that have been the
favorite of inconstant fortune, and term'd worthily
by the worshipfull title of a gentleman, am now
debas'd into an humble fugitive. Commiserate
this wonderful change (most excellent Auditors)
and let your recompence be a help, again to
restore me, and a story to exalt me towards the
fastigium of my pristine felicity, and (at your connivence)
I will post afoot to Mexico, drink your
healthes till I'me sick, and kill any I hear speak
irreverently of you. These, and more then these
will I accomplish, though to my perpetual ignominy,
or dissolution of my life, conditionally
you will bestow fluently upon your slave so undeserving
a little.
Dixi.
Pol.
Heres for all the company.
Will you give me leave to be grateful?
Pol.
Yes surely.
Phi.
Ile not desire the Muses to repleat
My willing genius with poetick heat:
This subject doth transcend them: Ile desire
Apollo to this Lay to touch his Lyre.
Thou Charioter of heaven, that dost invest
Thy swift-hoof'd Coursers in the dewy East
(With harness work'd by Mulciber) to light
The world, and dissipate the clouds of night;
For Phaetons sake (not unto me unlike)
Thy sweetest notes unto this ditty strike.
Pol.
If the Exordium be so long, t'will be tedious before the conclusion.
Anti.
Dismiss him therefore.
Pol.
Farewell Draculemion.
Phi.
Would I might kiss thee before, Nentis.— Aside
Exit Phi.
Pol.
Madam, how do you like the Lord Falorus?
Anti.
Very well my Lord.
Pol.
Him I have often motion'd to Lucora,
And he hath consented to marry her, would it not
Be a good fortune for her think you?
Ant.
Indeed I think it would.
Pol.
How say you now Lucora?
Ant.
For he is a much applauded gentleman,
Of good conditions, and of sweet behaviour,
Whose company is every where acceptable;
He deserves a good match, such a one as your daughter is.
How say you girle! was any thing I told you
Of Falorus, a falshood? Come prethee do thy self a good turn,
And take him, do Lucora.
Luc.
Dear Father, pardon me, indeed I have not
Any desir yet to marry.
Pol.
Sure you have! Bethink you, and speak wiser.
Luc.
Truly I have not Sir,
Pol.
Y'are a stubborn wench, and I am sorry
It was my hard fortune to be thy father:
Your shrewdness shal not carry you through so freely
(As you believe it will) it shall not maiden.
Anti.
Do not chide her. She will be rul'd by you.
Luc.
Indeed Madam I had rather live as I do.
Pol.
No I believe not that. There is some one
Or other farre inferiour unto him
Whom she's in love withall, perhaps some vile
'Scumme of the Town.
Luc.
Dear Sir, you conceive amiss of me; for I
Love no man yet, and hope I never shall
Be of another mind.
Poli.
Tis false, I cannot believe you.
Luc.
If ever I should Id'e hate my self to place
Affection on a man of base birth, or
Unseemly qualities.
Anti.
Be not angry Sir.
Nent.
I pray you marry (Madam) for it is
A state wherein one may securely kiss.
Luc.
Leave thy foolery,
Nent.
O tis a fine thing to have a coach of
And be restrain'd from nothing you have a desire to do.
Luc.
Marriage is no such liberty as you make it.
Pol.
Think of my will: I give you time.
Exeunt all but Rosinda.
Rosin.
They have hard fortune (which the Gods remove)
That (where they cannot) are compel'd to love:
I woo'd she had Carionil; I esteem not the ancient Enmity
Between the families.
Enter Phyginois.
Now Draculemion, how do you?
Phy.
At your beck, and in good health, brave sparks of generosity.
Ros.
I must needs attend my Lord, otherwise
We would have had one pint together.
Phyg.
Thou art a joviall Lad. Farewell.
O my Nentis! thou art a worthy Andromache, and
dost deserve Hector the couragious Trojan Wagg.
Enter Philander.
Phil.
They are not here.
Phyg.
I must to my trick agen.
Divine Apollo, and the Muses nine,
Can ye behold his ruine, unto whom
Ye have vouchsafed sacred Poesie?
Or see him sleep under a hedge i'th field,
Who hath so often on Parnassus lain?
Who at Bœotian Hippocrene hath
Pledged Mnemosyne in full-fraught Cups?
Or wander bareleg'd, who upon the Stage
Hath acted oftentimes in Sockes and Buskins?
Or see him tan'd for want of an old Hat,
Whose Temples (unto his immortal praise)
Ye have so richly view'd begirt with Bayes?
Phil.
Daculemion! I am glad to find thee: I'le have
a speech.
Phyg.
Your VVorship shall.
As yet the contentious night has not exterminated
Hyperion from the celestial Globe; who daily
useth to hawke with the firmamental Eagle, and
to hunt Ursa Major round about the Forrest of
the skie, to go to plow when he wants Corn with
Taurus, and (when he is hungry) to eat Aries,
and at night (when he comes 'ith VVest) to
court the Lady Virgo to be his bedfellow, whom
because he cannot obtain, he lashes on his horses,
and goes and reports his stubbornness to his
friends at the Antipodes. Nor as yet hath the
Trumpeter Boreas blown stormy Clouds into our
Horizon to deprive our eyes from the powerful
radiance of his orbicular and refulgent head. Nor
as yet am I weary to do you service, nor will be
while I am able.
Phil.
Here's for you.
VVhat a wordy nothing thou hast spoken?
Phyg.
You have given me current silver for it.
Exit.
Phil.
My father is my Rival, and I find
To him Antiphila is most inclin'd.
What the Fates will we never can prevent,
And (till the end) we know not their intent.
Exit.
| The Obstinate Lady | |