 | The Sad One |  |
Scæn. 3.
Enter Clarimont, Francelia.Franc.
Think not, good Sir, your elegant inforcements
Can seduce my weaker innocence; it's a resolution grounded,
And sooner shall the fixed Orbs be lifted off their hinges,
Then I be mov'd to any act
That bears the name of foul:
You know the way you came, Sir.
Clar.
Is this all the respect the King shall have?
No, you would do well to clothe this harsh denial
In better language.
Franc.
You may please to say,
I owe my life unto my Soveraign,
And should be proud to pay it in
At any warning, were it nere so short:
But for my Chastity, it doth so much concern another,
I can by no means part with it:
So fare you well Sir—
Exit.
29
By heaven a Saint, no woman;
Sure she was born o'th vertues of her Mother,
Not of her Nieces; the whole sexe
May come to be thought well of for her sake.
I long to meet Florelio; my joy is not compleat
Till I have cured his jealousies as well as mine.
Exit.
Enter Florelio, and a Boy.
Flor.
There was a time when Snakes and Adders had no being,
When the poor Infant-world had no worse reptiles
Then were the Melon and the Strawberry:
Those were the golden times of Innocence,
There were no Kings then, nor no lustful Peers,
No smooth-fac'd Favorites, nor no Cuckolds sure.
Oh!—how happy is that man, whose humbler thoughts
Kept him from Court, who never yet was taught
The glorious way unto damnation;
Who never did aspire
Further then the cool shades of quiet rest,
How have the heavens his lower wishes blest!
Sleep makes his labors sweet, and innocence
Does his mean fortunes truly recompence:
He feels no hot Loves, nor no Palsie-fears,
No fits of filthy Lusts, or of pale Jealousies:
He wants, it's true, our clothes, our masks, our diet,
And wants our cares, our fears, and our disquiets.
But this is all but raving,
30
[Lies all along on the ground.]
Boy, sing the Song I gave you.
A Song to a Lute.
[Boy]
Hast thou seen the Doun ith' air
when wanton blasts have tost it;
Or the Ship on the Sea,
when ruder waves have crost it?
Hast thou markt the Crocodiles weeping,
or the Foxes sleeping?
Or hast view'd the Peacock in his pride,
or the Dove by his Bride,
when he courts for his leachery?
Oh so fickle, oh so vain, oh so false, so false is she!
[Flor.]
Good Boy, leave me!
(Boy exit.)
Enter Clarimont.
Clar.
How now Florellio, Melancholy?
Flor.
No, I was studying, prethee resolve me
Whether it be better to maintain
A strong implicit faith,
That can by no means be opprest;
Or falling to the bottom at the first,
Arm'd with disdain and with contempts, to scorn the worst?
31
This is a subtile one; but why studying about this?
Flor.
Faith, I would find a good receipt for the head-ach,
That's all.—
Clar.
Hum, I know now whereabouts you are;
No more on't, I'm come to clear those doubts,
Your wife is chaste, chaste as the Turtle-dove.
Flor.
Ha, ha, ha!
Clar.
Ha, why do you laugh? I know she is, 'tis not
So many hours, since I tempted her with all my eloquence,
And for the King, yet found her cold as ice.
Flor.
Ha, ha, ha!
Clar.
You do not well to tempt a Friend,
You do forget she is my sister.
Flor.
I would I nere had known you had one.
Clar.
You'll give a reason now for this.
Flor.
None.
Clar.
By all that's good, since our dear father left us,
We are become his scorn; look you Sir,
[Draws]
I dare maintain it.
Flor.
But I dare not; put up, put up, young man,
When thou hast known a woman, thou wilt be tamer.
Exit.
Clar.
Ha! what should this mean?
I know he's valiant, wise, discreet: and what of that?
Passion, when it hath got the bit, doth oft-times throw the Rider:
—Yet why should I be peremptory?
She may, for ought I know, be yet unchaste
With some unworthy Groom.
[Studies]
32
'Twould not be amiss—
For souls, at such a time, like ships in tempests
Throw out all they have. And now I think on't,
Her trial shall be quick: Friend I'll do thee right,
Come on't what will, she dies if she be light.
Exit.
| The Sad One | |