 | The Queen of Corsica |  |
Scena 8a.
Ariste. Achæa. Lady Undressing to BedAris.
Madam, pray 'ee to bedd. indeed tis Late
Ach.
And yet noe Rauen Crokes. Does there, Ariste?
Is there noe Uulture that Can smell a Carcasse
Foule and Deform'd as I am? Tell mee Ladyes,
Do I not Looke all Hell? All Sinne? All Sorrow?
And yet mee thinkes you weepe not.
La.
You do too much.
Ach.
Alas you are All Cruell! you should Teach mee
Sitts downe & falls in Passion
To Wring my hands thus; thus; or with More Passion
If it were possible; And Lend your Eyes
For mee to Weepe my Teares through. Meethinks wenches
'Twere verie Easy for yor Wretched Mistrisse
To Personate Niobe if you (hard hearted,)
Could aswell [Act] Act her Daughters. Thus, Ariste
Thy Blubberd Eyes should Looke. And thy Lip, Drawing
28
Good, madam, Lay your Chin upon your Hand,
And with the Other Cling about my Neck
While I curse yon Gods, and pull downe their Marble.
Now with a Downe Cast Eye I send my Sorrowes
To my Poore Belly. Bigg bigg Ariste
Is your unhappie Queen, and yet a Virgin;
What shall I bring forth thinke you to ye World?
Perhaps I shall giue Greife a Body, Girles,
Lad.
Good Madam Doe not Mock your Selfe and Us,
The World would Laugh at such a Tale as this;
If you haue Closely sinn'd through Imperfection
Tell us. Wee are your faithfull Handwomen,
And Can lock up our Tongues.
Ach.
Can you be faithlesse?
I Call yon light to Wittnesse with her Brother
I am a Uirgin; Neither Can I tell
My Heart did euer feele a Uitious Flame
Vntill within this Weeke; But since I saw
This Stranger Calidor walking in Perfection
I feare that I haue felt, I feare it, Wenches
Something Calld Lust within Mee
Ar.
Pray, Madam, pray.
I feare the Gods haue sent out theyr Decree
To Ruine Corsica
Ach.
Pitty mee, Ladyes
For wee should know noe shame amongst our Selues,
I must Enjoy him er to morrow night
Or else bring forth the Melancholy Beere
And Lay mee Lower then my Woes
La Good Madam
It is not possible Man should be soe Dull
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Then who Can tell how farre they'l hurrie him
Ach.
It is noe Matter. Let mee but enjoy him
And then I care not what hee Comes to know;
Haue wee not men Enough to Awe One Stranger?
And who Dare touch my ffame?
Ar.
Now I can Weepe
Ach.
And Soe can I too at my Wickednesse
Which yet I needes must Loue.
Ari
How will the World
And Florimond take these Things? Can hee Choose but
Breake out in Wildfire when hee feeles his Hopes
Thus beyond Miserable?
Ach.
How thou art Blinded?
Why I haue told him all; Made him forsweare
His Right to Mee; And giuen him an Oath
To breake my Loue to Calidor
Ari.
«Oh» gods
What Mischeife Can wee bring on foolish Man
That Once Adores us! Madam you will make
Our Sex Abhorred, and the feild of Loue
Ly ouergrowne with weeds. Mankind will feare
Our Uery Looking-Glasses least they be Poyson'd.
Ach.
Loue will haue noe Disputes. O who Can find
A Salue to Cure enflamed Womans Mind!
| The Queen of Corsica | |