 | The Vnnatvrall Combat |  |
Scena prima.
Montrevile, Theocrine, servants.Montrevile.
Binde them, and gag their mouthes sure, I alone
Will be your convoy.
1. Wom.
Madam,
2. Wom.
Dearest Lady,
Pag.
Let me fight for my Mistresse.
Serv.
Tis in vaine,
Little Cockerell of the kinde.
Montr.
Away with them,
And doe as I command you,
Theocr.
Montrevile
Exeunt Servants, Page, Women.
You are my fathers friend, nay, more a souldier,
And if a right one, as I hope to find you,
Though in a lawfull war you had surpriz'd
A Citie, that bowd humbly to your pleasure,
In honour you stand bound to guard a virgin
From violence; but in a free estate
Of which you are a limb, to doe a wrong
Which noble enemies never consent to
Is such an insolence.
Montr.
How her heart beats!
Much like a Partridge in a Sparhawkes foot,
That with a panting silence does lament
The fate she cannot flie from! sweet, take comfort,
You are safe, and nothing is intended to you
But love and service.
Theocr.
They came never cloth'd
In force, and outrage, upon what assurance
(Remembring only that my father lives)
Who will not tamely suffer the disgrace.
And as I were not worth the waiting on,
To snatch me from the duty, and attendance
Of my poore servants.
Montr.
Let not that afflict you,
You shall not want observance, I will be
Your Page, your Woman, Parasite or Foole,
Or any other property, provided
You answer my affection.
Theocr.
In what kind?
Montr.
As you had done young Beauforts.
Theocr.
How?
Montr.
So Lady,
Or, if the name of wife appeare a yoke
Too heavie for your tender necke, so I
Enjoy you as a private friend, or mistresse,
Twil be sufficient.
Theocr.
Blessed Angels guard me
What frontlesse impudence is this? What divell
Hath to thy certaine ruine tempted thee
To offer me this motion? by my hopes
Of after joyes, submission, nor repentance
Shall expiate this foule intent.
Montr.
Intent?
Tis more, I'll make it act
Theocr.
Ribald, thou darest not,
And if (and with a feaver to thy soule)
Thou but consider that I have a father
And such a father, as when this arrives at
His knowledge, as it shall, the terrour of
His vengeance, which as sure as fate must follow,
Will make thee curse the houre in which lust taught thee
To nourish these base hopes, and tis my wonder
Thou darest forget how tender he is of mee
And that each shadow of wrong done to me
Will raise in him a tempest not to be
But with thy heart-blood calm'd: this when I see him.
As thou shalt never.
Theocr.
Wilt thou murther me?
Montr.
No, no, tis otherwise determin'd, foole,
The master which in passion kills his slave
That may be usefull to him, does himselfe
The injurie: Know thou most wretched creature,
That father thou presum'st upon, that father,
That when I sought thee in a noble way,
Deny'd thee to me, fancying in his hope
A higher match from his excesse of dotage,
Hath in his bowels kindled such a flame
Of impious most unnaturall lust,
That now he feares his furious desires,
May force him to doe that he shakes to thinke on.
Theocr.
O me most wretched.
Montr.
Never hope againe
To blast him with those eyes, their golden beames
Are unto him arrowes of death and hell,
But unto me divine artillery.
And therefore since what I so long in vaine
Purfu'd, is offerd to me, and by him
Given up to my possession: doe not flatter
Thy selfe with an imaginary hope,
But that I'll take occasion by the forelock,
And make use of my fortune; as we walke
I'll tell the more.
Theocr.
I will not stirre.
Montr.
I'll force thee:
Theocr.
Helpe, helpe,
Montr.
In vaine,
Theocr.
In mee my brothers blood
Is punish'd at the height.
Montr.
The Coach there.
Theocr.
Deare Sir,
Montr.
Teares, curses, prayers, are alike to me,
I can, and must enjoy my present pleasure,
And shall take time to mourne for it at leasure.
| The Vnnatvrall Combat | |