 | The Unhappy Kindness : or a Fruitless Revenge |  |
28
ACT IV.
Enter Frederick.Fr.
Methinks the Sun this morning mounts the Sky,
With a pale face, and Death plays in his Beams.
Why, be it so, they dart it on Alphonso;
But add new life to my continu'd pleasures.
Sorano's always witty in his mischief,
To Poyson him, and by my Mothers hand,
Will be a double stroke, and sweep away
The only bars, that check my sweet delights.
Cou'd I but gain this Maid too I were happy.
Enter Cassandra.
Come hither Time, how does your noble Mistress?
Cass.
As a Gentlewoman may do in her Case, that's newly marri'd,
Sickly, and fond on't, and please your Majesty.
Fr.
She's breeding then, and eats good Broths and Jellies?
Cass.
I'm sure she sighs, Sir, and weeps, good Lady.
Fr.
Alass good Lady for it!
She shou'd have one cou'd comfort her,
Cassandra,
Cou'd turn those Tears to Joys, a lusty comforter.
Cass.
A comfortable man does well at all hours,
For he brings comfortable things.
Fr.
Come hither, and hold your Fan between, you have eaten Onions;
Her breath stinks like a Fox, her teeth are Contagious,
These old Women are all Elder Pipes, do you mark me. He gives her a Purse.
Cass.
But does your Grace think I am fit, that am both old and vertuous.
Fr.
Therefore the fitter, the older still the better,
I know thou art as holy as an old Cope.
Yet upon necessary use—
Cass.
'Tis true,
Fr.
Her feeling sense is fierce still; speak unto her,
You are familiar, speak I say unto her,
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Alass she's honest Sir, she's very honest,
And wou'd you have my gravity?
Fr.
I, I, your gravity will become the Cause the better:
I'll look thee out a Knight shall make thee a Lady too,
A lusty Knight, and one that shall be rul'd by thee.
Come, come, no ducking out of nicety,
But do it home, we'll all be friends too tell her,
And such a Joy—
Cass.
That's it that stirs me up, Sir.
I wou'd not for the world attempt her Chastity,
But that they may live lovingly together.
Fr.
For that I urge it too.
Cass.
A little evil may well be suffer'd for a general good,
I'll take my leave of your Grace.
Exit.
Fr.
Go and be fortunate, I know he wants no additions to his tortures,
He has enough for humane blood to carry,
So many, that I wonder his hot Youth,
And high bred Spirit breaks not into Fury.
Yet I must torture him a little further,
My anger is too poor else. Here they come.
Th'old Woman seems an earnest advocate
They are strange things, but I must not be seen.
[Exit.
Enter Evanthe and Cassandra.
Ev.
You think it fit then, Mortified Cassandra.
That I shou'd be a Whore?
Cass.
If every woman, that upon necessity
Did a good turn, were term'd a Whore,
Who wou'd be honest.
Your Lords life, and your own, are now in hazard.
Two precious lives may be redeem'd with nothing:
That we call lust, that Maidens loose their fame for,
But a Compell'd necessity of honour,
Fair as the day, and clear as innocence,
Upon my life and conscience, a direct way—
Ev.
To be a Devil.
Cass.
'Tis a kind of rape too,
That keeps you clear; for where the will's compell'd
Tho' you yield up your body, you are safe still
Ev.
Thou art grown a learned Bawd, I ever look't
Thy great sufficiency wou'd break out.
Cass.
You may
You that are young and fair scorn us old Creatures.
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And my experience too. Say the King lov'd ye
Do you think Princes favours are such trifles,
To fling away when you please? there are young Ladies,
Both fair, and honourable, that wou'd leap to reach 'em.
Ev.
They are the wiser for it; but canst thou tell me
Tho' he be a King whether he be sound or no?
I wou'd not give my youth up to infection.
Cass.
As sound as honour ought to be I think.
Ev.
But when I have lain with him, what am I then?
Cass.
What are you? why the same you are now, a woman,
A vertuous woman, and a noble woman,
Touching at what is noble you become so.
Had Lucreece e're been thought of, but for Tarquin,
She was before a Simple unknown woman,
When she was ravish't, she was a reverent St.
And do you think she yielded not a little,
And had a kind of will to be re-ravish't:
Ev.
But suppose the King should so delight me,
I shou'd forget my Lord, and no more look on him?
Cass.
That's the main hazard, for I tell you truly,
I've heard report speak him an infinite pleasure.
Ev.
Peace, thou old Bawd, thou studyed old corruptness.
Dost thou seek to make me dote on wickedness,
Because 'tis ten times worse than thou deliver'st it?
To be a Whore, O thou Impudence!
Have I reliev'd thy Age to my own ruin?
And worn thee in my bosom to betray me?
Can years, and Impotence win nothing on thee
That's good and honest, but thou must go on still,
And where thy Blood wants heat to sin thy self,
Force thy decrepid will to make me wicked?
Cass.
I did but tell ye—
Ev.
What the damndest Woman,
The cunningst, and most skillfull Bawd, comes short of.
If thou had'st liv'd ten ages to be damn'd in,
And exercis'd this art the Devil taught thee,
Thou couldst not have exprest it more exactly.
Cass.
I did not bid you sin.
Ev.
Thou wood'st me to it.
Thou that art fit for Prayer, and the Grave,
Thy Body Earth already, and Corruption,
Thou taughtest the way; go follow your fine Function,
There are houses of Delight, that want good Matrons,
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And read varitey of Sins to Wantons,
And when they roar with pains then learn to pity 'em.
Cass.
This we have for our good will;
Ev.
When thou want'st bread, and common pity towards thee;
When thou art starving in a Ditch, think on me,
Then die and let the wandring Bawds lament thee.
Begone I charge thee leave me.
[Exit. Cassandra.
Enter Frederick.
Fr.
She's angry, and the other gone, my suits cold.
I'll make your heart ake, stubborn Maid, for this.
Turn not so angry from me, I will speak to you;
Are you grown proud with your delight, good Lady,
So pamper'd with your sport, you scorn to know me?
Ev.
I scorn you not, I wish you scorn'd not me, Sir;
And forc't me to be weary of my duty.
I know your Grace, wou'd I had never seen you.
Fr.
Because I love, because I dote upon you,
Because I am a man, that seek to please you—
Ev.
I've one already, Sir, that can content me,
As much, as noble, and as worthy of me
As all the world can yield.
Fr.
That's but your modesty.
You have no man, nay never look upon me,
I know it Lady, no man to content ye;
No man that can, or at the least that dares,
Which is a poorer man, and nearer nothing.
Ev.
Be nobler Sir inform'd.
Fr.
I'll, tell you, Madam,
The poor condition of this poorer Fellow,
And make you blush for shame at your own error.
He has not render'd yet a Husbands duty
To your warm longing Bed.
Ev.
How shou'd he know that?
[Aside.
Fr.
I'm sure he did not, for I charg'd him no,
Upon his life I charg'd him, but to try him.
Cou'd any brave or noble spirit stop here?
Was life to be preferr'd before affection,
Lawful and long'd for too?
Ev.
Did you command him?
Fr.
I did in policy, to try his spirit.
Ev.
And cou'd he be so dead cold to observe it?
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Fr.
I shou'd have lov'd him if he had ventur'd for it,
Nay doted on his bravery.
Ev.
Only charg'd, and with that spell sit down: dare men fight bravely
For poor slight things, for drink or ostentation
And there indanger both their lives and fortunes?
And for their lawful loves fly off with fear?
I wou'd have died a thousand deaths.
Fr.
So wou'd any,
Any that had the spirit of a Man.
I wou'd have been kill'd in your Arms.
Ev.
I wish I had been,
And buryed in my arms, that had been noble;
And what a Monument wou'd I have made him!
Upon my breast he should have slept in peace,
Honour, and everlasting love his Mourners;
And I still weeping 'till old time had turn'd me,
And pitying powers above, into pure Chrystal.
Fr.
Hadst thou lov'd me, and had my way been stuck
With deaths, as thick as frosty nights with Stars,
I wou'd have ventur'd.
Ev.
Good Sir afflict me not too fast, I feel
I am a Woman, and a wrong'd one too,
And I am sensible of my abuses.
Fr.
All reason, and all Laws allow it ye.
Ev.
You may speak now, and happily prevail too.
And I beseech your Grace be angry with me.
Fr.
If I shou'd give him life he wou'd betray thee,
That fool that fears to die for such a Beauty,
Wou'd for the same fear sell thee unto misery.
I do not say he set your Woman on you.
Ev.
Follow'd thus far, nay then I smell the malice,
It tasts too hot of practis'd wickedness.
Shall my Anger make me Whore, and not my pleasure?
My sudden inconsiderate rage abuse me?
Fr.
Nor he wou'd have been himself Sollicitor.
Ev.
Nor do not dare, 'twill be an imprudence,
And not an honour for a Prince to lye.
Fr.
How lye?
Ev.
Shamefully, and I cou'd wish my self a man but one day,
To tell you openly you lye too basely.
Fr.
Take heed wild fool.
Ev.
Take heed thou tame Devil,
Thou all Pandora's box in a Kings figure;
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And like an Engineer blown up my Honour,
But I shall countermine, and catch your mischief.
Victorious Thomyris, ne'er won more honour,
In cutting off the Royal Head of Cyrus,
Than I shall do in conquering thee, farewell.
And if thou canst be wise learn to be good too,
'Twill give thee nobler light than both thy eyes do.
My poor Lord and my self are bound to suffer,
And when I see him faint under your sentence,
I'll tell you more, it may be than I'll yield to.
Fr.
Yielding or not I've sworn she shall be mine,
Tho I shou'd wade through Seas of blood to meet her.
Enter Val.
Val.
He's here and by himself, what hinders me,
But that I now make sure a noble vengeance?
The People do expect, the Soldiers wish it,
All Naples hang on me their expectations.
As if it was a debt, I ow'd my Country.
But still he is my Soveraign, and that thought
Pulls back my Sword, and turns the edge against me.
Fr.
Now my young marry'd Lord how do you feel your self?
You have the happiness you ever aim'd at,
The joy and pleasure.
You tumble in delights, with your sweet Lady,
And draw the Minutes out in dear imbraces.
Val.
Wou'd you had try'd it, Sir, that you might know
The vertue but to suffer.
Your anger tho' it be unjust, and insolent,
Sits handsomer upon you than your scorn.
To do a willfull ill, and glory in it,
Is to do it double, and doubly to be damn'd.
Fr.
You clearly see now, brave Valerio,
What 'tis to be a rival to a Prince,
To interpose agianst a raging Lyon.
Val.
You are grown a Tyrant
Upon so suffering, and so still a Subject,
That if your youth were honest, it wou'd blush at.
But y'are a shame to nature, as to vertue;
Pull not my rage upon ye, 'tis so Just
It will give way to no respect.
Fr.
I know y'ave suffer'd, infinitely suffer'd,
And with a kind of pity I behold ye;
And if you dare be worthy of my mercy,
I can yet heal you.
Val.
I fall thus low, Sir.
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Indeed they have more power to make 'em good.
It was to save thy life, thy innocent life,
That I forbore thy bed.
Ev.
And was not I as worthy to die nobly,
To make a story for the times that follow,
As he that married me? do you think I chose you
Only for pleasure, or content in Love,
To lull you in my arms and kiss you hourly?
Val.
I do not think so.
Ev.
I might have been a Queen, Sir,
If that had caught me, and have known all delicates.
There's few that wou'd have shun'd so fair an offer.
O thou unfaithful fearful man, thou hast kill'd me;
In saving me this way thou hast destroy'd me.
Val.
I honour you; by all the rites of marriage
And pleasures of chast love, I wonder at you.
You appear the vision of a heaven unto me,
Stuck all with stars of honour shining clearly;
Why don't you chide me, you have so brave an anger,
And thus deliver'd flows so nobly from you,
That I cou'd suffer like a child to hear you.
Ev.
My Anger's gone, good my Lord pardon me,
And if I have offended be more angry.
It was a womans flash, a sudden valour
That cou'd not lie conceal'd.
You have with a cunning patience chek't my folly.
Once more forgiveness.
(She kneels)
Val.
Will this serve Evanthe
(He raises and kisses her.)
And this my Love, thou art all happiness,
Man is a lump of earth, the best Man spiritless,
To such a Woman, all our lives and actions,
But counterfeits in Arras to such virtue.
But did he tell no more?
Ev.
More than I then believ'd or ever shall.
Val.
Now we are both of one mind, lets be happy.
I am no more a wanting man Evanthe,
Thy warm embraces shall dissolve that impotence,
And my cold lye shall vanish with thy kisses.
Ye hours of night be long, as when Alcmena
Lay by the lusty side of Jupiter,
Keep back the day and hide his golden beams,
Where the chast watchful morning may not find 'em.
Old doting Tython, hold Aurora fast,
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Conceal her still; thou heavy wain stand still,
And stop the quicker revolutions;
Or if the day must come to spoil our happiness
Thou envious Sun peep not upon our pleasures,
Thou that all Lovers Curse be far off from us.
Enter Pisano with Guards.
Ev.
Then let's to bed, and this night in all Joys
And chast desires—
Pis.
Stay I must part you both, it is the King's Command.
Val.
Ha! this from thee, Pisano;
Thou once wast honest, what can honour then,
And friendship too conspire against Valerio?
Pis.
My honour'd Lord, you'll find me still your Friend,
Bear off the Lady, and use her with all nobleness.
[Exeunt with Evanthe.
Enter Alphonso.
Alp.
Call up the Sun, and tell him I wait for him.
He promis'd more I fear than he'll perform,
To find three men, that are not errant Traitors.
Val.
Is there a mystery beyond what I've suffer'd?
Yet witness Heav'n, this adds to my afflictions,
How do you my good Lord?
Alp.
Why very well.
Who are you? For I'm sure I do not know you.
Val.
Not know me,
Alp.
How is't possible I shou'd?
I well remember I had a foster Brother,
A noble youth, my Father call'd Valerio;
But what of that? I know you are not he.
Valerio was made up of nobleness,
Master of all those humane excellencies,
That make Men equal to th'all perfect Gods;
His forward vertues shot him up to Man,
E're others cou'd attain to a youth's strength.
He was so perfect as if heaven had sent him,
To witness to the world the worth of humane nature.
Val.
My Lord Alphonso, am I sure I hear you!
Alp.
He wore a soul so full of manly greatness,
As wou'd have brookt a scepter'd Devil sooner.
Than usurpation, or a lawless Tyrant,
And e're he wou'd have spent those precious hours,
That pitying fate had liberally consign'd,
For the redemption of his wretched Country,
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He wou'd have sold himself to slavery.
Val.
Go on, my Lord, for tho in your reproofs
Y' appear as dreadful as an angry God,
Y' have turn'd the stream of my o'erflowing griefs,
And silenc'd all the Tumults of my Soul.
Go on, for whilst you speak, my busie sorrows,
Tho they exceed the tortures of the damn'd,
As if another Orpheus came to charm 'em,
Are calm, and gently sink down into peace.
Here on my knees silent as death I'm fix't,
And listen to the charge of awful vertue.
Alp.
He was so true a lover of his Country,
That for her sake he would have given up
His life, and with it his Soul's happiness,
But not have sold it like a trading Slave,
For the enjoyments of a short-lif'd pleasure.
He dar'd meet death with an undaunted courage,
On any score, but from the Hangman's hand.
Val.
O all ye Gods, can I believe my senses?
Or do I dream? 'tis real; for my joys
Exceed the transports of deluded fancy,
But say, my Lord, O tell me I adjure ye,
What kinder power, in pity of our sufferings,
When you was lost and dead to all our hopes,
Has thus restor'd ye to your bleeding Naples?
Alp.
Vain man, 'tis thou art dead and not Alphonso;
That vigorous heat that fir'd thy active Youth,
And drew the hopes of all good men unto thee,
Lies quite extinct, and now thou art no more,
Than the faint shadow of Valerio's greatness.
Ye Gods, that man, the Lord of your Creation,
The perfect image of your heavenly forms,
Shou'd own the weakness of the vilest Beast,
And vertue, given us as a faithful guide
To lead us safe through a tempestuous Sea,
Shou'd yield to every wave that dares oppose it!
Val.
My Lord, I own all you can charge me with,
And in an humble sense of my own vileness,
I crawl thus low, to kiss your sacred feet.
Valerio owns you have search't him to the quick,
And laid his soul so open to her self,
That now asham'd of her own nakedness,
Dares not erect her head to view, and worship,
The Godlike beams of your severer vertue.
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Let me then raise her up to her own greatness,
And heal her with the charms of holy Friendship,
Here let me fix her, honours sacred twin,
And breath the sweets of manly love upon her.
O my Valerio, we have been both to blame,
The hours of youth, that shou'd have been employ'd,
In the pursuit of never dying glory,
And spent i'th'service of our wretched Country,
We have like headless Prodigals permitted
To glide as gentle waters unobserv'd.
Val.
What shall I say, O teach me how to answer.
Thoughts crowd on thoughts, and press upon my Tongue,
Which cannot speak the language of my Heart.
Only thus much, I fling off all my duty
To your dead Brother, for he is dead to goodness,
And to the living hopes of brave Alphonso,
The noble heir of Nature and of Honour,
I fasten my Allegiance.
Alp.
Once more Valerio,
Since thou art so nobly fashion'd to my Arms
Th'art wellcome, thus and thus I press thee to me,
Wish we might grow so fix't, so link't together,
As Fredericks power might strive in vain to part us.
Val.
Is there on Earth that power that can divide us?
That life my love so fondly gave away,
Honour recalls: for you I will preserve it,
That cou'd not for my self. I'm yours, my Lord,
Valerio's yours, and to secure me so,
Witness ye Gods Valerio quits the world,
All but his love, and if my Lord commands it,
I'll quit that too; Evanthe shall be quitted,
And thrown off from me, that I may with ease,
Enter the list, and run the race of glory.
Alp.
O thou wast born to recall banisht vertue,
And fix her on her Throne, no, my Valerio,
Mayst thou be ever blest in thy Evanthe.
Live both the happy Stars of love and honour,
Two lights to guide us in this darker Age.
But listen now to what I shall unfold,
This afternoon, the Tyrant has determin'd
To try if fear will work upon Evanthe,
And win her to compliance, if to save,
Thy much lov'd life she will give up her honour;
If that will not prevail, 'tis then resolv'd
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Now canst thou tamely see a Virgin wrong'd,
And not be touch't with the indignity,
Perceive thy Wife forc'd to a Tyrant's bed,
And feel no love within to do her Justice?
Val.
Why asks my Lord, by heaven I'd rather see her
Drag'd to a bloody Altar, and there fall
A Sacrifice to Devils.
Alp.
I do believe thee,
And that thou woud'st be foremost to prevent it.
Val.
I'd do't alone.
Alp.
I grant it if no Friends
Can be found out to joyn i'th'undertaking.
Val.
There can be none;
Alp.
There are already hundreds
All arm'd, ev'n now the fatal Sword is drawn,
That must ere night dispatch the bloody Tyrant.
Suspend thy wonder, and be like thy self.
O I cou'd tell thee such a dismal story
As wou'd add fuel, to thy enraged spirits,
Tho' they boil'd higher than Alcides did,
When on his back he wore th'envenom'd Shirt.
Val.
O you have given new life to all my wishes!
Is there, and shall we once again behold
A lawful Monarch seated on our Throne.
Methinks I see the Genius of our State
Resume with joy her once abandon'd Seat,
Vertue returns, and injur'd Truth once more
Do's happy Naples to her self restore,
Whilst the assembl'd Gods resolve to bless
Alphonso's Reign with a perpetual Peace.
Exeunt.
| The Unhappy Kindness : or a Fruitless Revenge | |