 | The Second Maiden's Tragedy |  |
Enter Gouianus in black, a booke in his hand,
his page carying a Torche before hym.
Gouianus.
Allreadie myne eyes melts, the monument
no sooner stood before it, but a teare
ran swiftlie from me—to express her dutie,
Temple of Honor I salute thee earlie
the tyme that my griefes rise, Chamber of peace
wher wounded vertue sleepes lockt from the world,
I bringe to be acquainted wt h thy silence
sorrowes that loue no noyze, they dwell all inward,
wher Truthe and loue in euerie man should dwell;
Be readie boy giue me the straine agen
twill showe well heere, whil'st in my griefes devotion
at euery rest myne eye lets fall a beade
to keep the nomber perfect;
Gouianus kneeles at the Toomb wrondrous passionatly, His Page singes.
[Page.]
The songe.
Gouianus.
Thow art an honest boye, tis donne like one
that has a feelinge of his masters passions
and the vnmatched worth of his dead mistris,
thy better yeares shall finde me good to thee
when vnderstandinge ripens in thy sowle
wt h trulie makes the man and not longe Tyme;
prythee wt h drawe a litle and attend me
at Cloyster doore
Page
it shalbe donne my lord
Goui
Eternall maid of honor, whose chaste bodie
lyes heere lyke vertues closse and hidden seed
to springe forth glorious to eternitye
at the euerlastinge haruest,
With in.
I am not here
Goui.
whats that? whoe is not here I'me forc't to question it;
some idle sowndes the beaten vaults sende forth
On a sodayne in a kinde of Noyse like a Wynde, the dores clattering, the Toombstone flies open, and a great light appeares in the midst of the Toombe; His Lady as went owt, standing iust before hym all in white, Stuck with Iewells and a great crucifex on her brest.
Goui.
Mercy looke to mee, Faythe I flie to thee
keep a strong watche about me, (now thy frendship;)
o neuer came astonishmt and feare
so pleasinge to mankinde, I take delight
to haue my brest shake, and my haire stand stif,
if this be horrour let it neuer die:
Came all the paines of hell in that shape to me
I should endure em smylinge; keep me still
in terror I beseech thee, Ide not chainge
this feuour for felicytie of man
or all the pleasures of ten thowsand Ages
Lady.
deere lord, I come to tell you all my wronges
Goui.
wellcome, who wronges the spirrit of my loue
thow art aboue the iniuries of blood
they cannot reach thee now, what dares offend thee?
no life that has the waight of flesh vppon't
and treads as I doe, can now wronge my mistris?
Lady.
the peace that death allow'es me is not myne
the monument is robd, behold I'me gon
my bodie taken vp.
Goui
tis gon indeed
what villaine dares so fearefullie rvn in debt
to black eternitie?
Lady.
he that dares do more the Tyrant
Goui
All the miseries belowe
reward his bouldnes
Lady
I am now at Courte
in his owne priuat chamber, ther he woes me
and plies his suite to me wt h as serious paines
as if the short flame of mortalitie
were lighted vp agen in my cold brest,
foldes me wt hin his armes and often sets
a sinfull kisse vpon my scenceles lip,
weepes when he sees the palenes of my cheeke,
and will send priuatlie for a hand of Arte
that may dissemble life vpon my face
to please his lustfull eye.
Goui
o pittious wronges,
inhumane Iniuries wt hout grace or mercy
Lady.
I leaue em to thy thought, deerest of men
my rest is lost, thow must restor't agen
Goui
o flye me not so soone
Lady.
farwell true lord—
Exit Lady.
Goui.
I cannot spare thee yet,—ile make my self
ouer to death too, and weele walke together
lyke loving spirrits, I pry thee lets doe soe,
shees snatcht awaie by fate and I talke sicklie
I must dispatche this busines vpon earth
before I take that iornie, ile to my brother for his aide or cowncell;
So wrongd; o heav'ne put armour on my spirrit
her bodie I will place in her first rest
or in th'attempt lock death into my brest—
Exit.
Gouianus.
Allreadie myne eyes melts, the monument
no sooner stood before it, but a teare
ran swiftlie from me—to express her dutie,
Temple of Honor I salute thee earlie
the tyme that my griefes rise, Chamber of peace
wher wounded vertue sleepes lockt from the world,
I bringe to be acquainted wt h thy silence
sorrowes that loue no noyze, they dwell all inward,
wher Truthe and loue in euerie man should dwell;
Be readie boy giue me the straine agen
60
at euery rest myne eye lets fall a beade
to keep the nomber perfect;
Gouianus kneeles at the Toomb wrondrous passionatly, His Page singes.
[Page.]
The songe.
If euer pitty were well plac'st,
on True Desart, and vertuous Honor,
It could nere be better grac'st,
freely then bestow'te vpon her;
on True Desart, and vertuous Honor,
It could nere be better grac'st,
freely then bestow'te vpon her;
Neuer Lady earnd her fame
In Vertues warr with greater Strife,
To preserue her constant name
she gaue vp beauty, youth and life
Ther shee sleepes
and here he weepes
The Lord vnto so rare a wife
In Vertues warr with greater Strife,
To preserue her constant name
she gaue vp beauty, youth and life
Ther shee sleepes
and here he weepes
The Lord vnto so rare a wife
Weep weep and mourne lament,
You virgins that pass by her
For if praise come by Death agen,
I doubt few will lye nye her.
You virgins that pass by her
For if praise come by Death agen,
I doubt few will lye nye her.
Gouianus.
Thow art an honest boye, tis donne like one
that has a feelinge of his masters passions
and the vnmatched worth of his dead mistris,
thy better yeares shall finde me good to thee
when vnderstandinge ripens in thy sowle
wt h trulie makes the man and not longe Tyme;
prythee wt h drawe a litle and attend me
at Cloyster doore
Page
it shalbe donne my lord
Goui
Eternall maid of honor, whose chaste bodie
lyes heere lyke vertues closse and hidden seed
to springe forth glorious to eternitye
61
With in.
I am not here
Goui.
whats that? whoe is not here I'me forc't to question it;
some idle sowndes the beaten vaults sende forth
On a sodayne in a kinde of Noyse like a Wynde, the dores clattering, the Toombstone flies open, and a great light appeares in the midst of the Toombe; His Lady as went owt, standing iust before hym all in white, Stuck with Iewells and a great crucifex on her brest.
Goui.
Mercy looke to mee, Faythe I flie to thee
keep a strong watche about me, (now thy frendship;)
o neuer came astonishmt and feare
so pleasinge to mankinde, I take delight
to haue my brest shake, and my haire stand stif,
if this be horrour let it neuer die:
Came all the paines of hell in that shape to me
I should endure em smylinge; keep me still
in terror I beseech thee, Ide not chainge
this feuour for felicytie of man
or all the pleasures of ten thowsand Ages
Lady.
deere lord, I come to tell you all my wronges
Goui.
wellcome, who wronges the spirrit of my loue
thow art aboue the iniuries of blood
they cannot reach thee now, what dares offend thee?
no life that has the waight of flesh vppon't
and treads as I doe, can now wronge my mistris?
Lady.
the peace that death allow'es me is not myne
the monument is robd, behold I'me gon
my bodie taken vp.
Goui
tis gon indeed
what villaine dares so fearefullie rvn in debt
to black eternitie?
62
he that dares do more the Tyrant
Goui
All the miseries belowe
reward his bouldnes
Lady
I am now at Courte
in his owne priuat chamber, ther he woes me
and plies his suite to me wt h as serious paines
as if the short flame of mortalitie
were lighted vp agen in my cold brest,
foldes me wt hin his armes and often sets
a sinfull kisse vpon my scenceles lip,
weepes when he sees the palenes of my cheeke,
and will send priuatlie for a hand of Arte
that may dissemble life vpon my face
to please his lustfull eye.
Goui
o pittious wronges,
inhumane Iniuries wt hout grace or mercy
Lady.
I leaue em to thy thought, deerest of men
my rest is lost, thow must restor't agen
Goui
o flye me not so soone
Lady.
farwell true lord—
Exit Lady.
Goui.
I cannot spare thee yet,—ile make my self
ouer to death too, and weele walke together
lyke loving spirrits, I pry thee lets doe soe,
shees snatcht awaie by fate and I talke sicklie
I must dispatche this busines vpon earth
before I take that iornie, ile to my brother for his aide or cowncell;
So wrongd; o heav'ne put armour on my spirrit
her bodie I will place in her first rest
or in th'attempt lock death into my brest—
Exit.
| The Second Maiden's Tragedy | |