 | Marciano ; or, The Discovery |  |
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Marciano, Arabella.Marc.
Perswade me not, I cannot but abhor
Such a preposterous attempt—
Ar.
My Lord—
Marc.
Dear soul of sweetness, do not torture me
With fruitless plots—within four dayes I die—
Should I escape and leave you prisoner—
—Think, think on that—
Ar.
You may escape, my Lord;
I have brought hither t'you, some aquafortis
Which your friend Strenuo gave me this morning;
You may apply it to the grate o'th' window—
Marc.
And what then—
Ar.
Your friend assures me 'hath a Souldiers habit
In readiness for you. This same aquafortis
Will do the business—quick, apply it quickly—
Look to your self, now it grows late, my Lord.
Marc.
May I trust this—
Ar.
You may, indeed, 'tis true.
35
This night you may as easily escape.
Marc.
I'le try this trick for once—
Ar.
Fear not the Jaylor; he is fox'd already,
So Strenuo did assure me—
Apply it then, and if you don't escape—
Marc.
I'le undertake it then—leave this with me,
I'le go about it presently—mean time,
I'le cause put all in order—you must return
Within an hour hence:—and cause Strenuo
Be ready at the window—
Ar.
Fear not that.
Marc.
Farewell then.
Ar.
May my choycest prayers assist you.
Exit Marciano.
Arbella
sola.
And if this fail, what can a womans wit
Invent, that will succeed?—Alas, I fear,
Still, still, I fear, while he be safely hence.
I have us'd all means, nothing left untry'd
For his enlargement; yet could not prevail.
—O love!—who can define thee—hopes and cares,
In constant ballance; hov'ring up and down—
Here's a poor heart, within this troubled breast;
That like a malefactor at the bar,
Trembles at this design:—O powerfull love—
What hast thou not perswaded me to do—
Sings behind the arras.
—But heark, a song, I will give ear to it,
I know Borasco hath ordain'd it for me—
Song.
1.
So, so,Lo Lillies fade, before the Roses show
Themselves in bow-dye, summers-livery,
Feasting the curious eye,
With choyce variety,
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We did adore
Narcissus in his prime.
Now Roses do delyte
The nycer appetite:
Such is the vast disparity of time.
2.
So, so,One woman fades, before another know
What 'tis to be in love; but in a trice
All men do sacrifice
To th'latter, and despise
Her, whom before
They did adore
Like Lillies in their prime.
Since now her sparkling eyes
Are darkned in disguise:
Such is the sad disparity of time.
Ar.
A proper simile—now I see in what
Article his pulse beats:—no Syren shall
Bewitch my soul to love:—O Marciano,
How I lament thy fate: heavens lend me tears,
Since by my prodigal expence of sorrow,
I'me become banquerout: or else I beg
A period to my dayes: since certainly,
Life without love, is but calamity.
Exit weeping.
| Marciano ; or, The Discovery | |