 | The English Moor, or The Mock-Marriage |  |
55
Scene 3.
Theophilus. Lucy.Lu.
Brother be comforted.
The.
Let not the name
Or empty sound of comfort mix with th'air
That must invade these ears: They are not capable,
Or, if they be, they dare not, for themselves,
Give the conveyance of a sillable
Into my heart, that speak nor grief or sorrow.
Lu.
Be griev'd then, Ile grieve with you: For each sigh
You waste for Millicents untimely death
Ile spend a tear for your as fruitless sorrow.
The.
That's most unsutable; y'are no company
For me to grieve with if you grieve for me;
Take the same cause with me; you are no friend
Or sister else of mine. It is enough
To set the world a weeping!
Lu.
So it is;
All but the stony part of't.
The.
Now you are right. Her husband's of that part;
He cannot weep by nature: But Ile find
A way by art in Chymistry to melt him.
At least extract some drops. But do you weep
Indeed for Millicent? What, all these tears?
Lu.
All for your love.
The.
She is my love indeed; and was my wife.
But for the empty name of marriage onely,
But now she's yours for ever. You enjoy her.
In her fair blessed memory; in her goodness,
And all that has prepar'd her way for glory.
The.
Let me embrace thee sister. How I reverence
Any fair honour that is done to her,
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In shewing me how she's mine. And tears indeed
Are all too weak a sacrifice for her
But such as the heart weeps.
Enter Page.
Lu.
Sit down brother.
Sing boy the mornful song I bad you practise.
Song.
The.
Call you this mournful. Tis a wanton air.
Go y'are a naughty child indeed, Ile whip you
If you give voice unto such notes,
Lu.
I know not brother how you like the air,
But in my mind the words are sad, Pray read 'em.
The.
They are sad indeed. How now my boy, dost weep?
I am not angry now.
Pa.
I do not weep,
Sir, for my self. But ther's a youth without
(A handsome youth) whose sorrow works in me:
He sayes he wants a service, and seeks yours.
The.
Dost thou not know him.
Pa.
No: but I pity him.
The.
O, good boy, that canst weep for a strangers misery!
The sweetness of thy dear compassion
Even melts me too. What does he say he is.
Pa.
Tis that Sir, that wil I grieve you when you hear it.
He is a poor kinsman to the gentlewoman
Lately deceas'd that you so lov'd and mourn for.
The.
And dost thou let him stay without so long?
Merciless Villain! run and fetch him quickly.
Lu.
O brother—
The.
Sister, can I be too zealous
In such a cause as this? For heark you, sister,
Enter Dionisia
Dio.
There was no way like this to get within 'em,
Now courage keep true touch with me. Ile vex
Your cunning and unnatural purpose, brother,
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Pa.
Sir, here's the youth?
The.
A lovely one he is, and wondrous like her,
O let me run and clasp him; hang about him,
And yoak him to me with a thousand kisses!
I shall be troublesome and heavy to thee,
With the pleas'd waight of my incessant love.
Youth of a happy kindred, which foreruns
A happy fortune ever. Pray thee, sister,
Is he not very like her?
Lu.
If I durst
I would now say, this were the better beauty,
For it resembles Arthurs.
The,
I'st not her face? you do not mind me sister.
Lu.
Hers was a good one once, and this is now.
The.
Why sister, you were wont to take delight
In any comfort that belong'd to me;
And help to carry my joyes sweetly: now
You keep no constant course with me.
Dio.
This man
Melts me—alas, Sir, I am a poor boy.
The.
What, and allied to her? impossible!
Where ere thou liv'st her name's a fortune to thee.
Her memory amongst good men sets thee up;
It is a word that commands all in this house.
Dio.
This snare was not well laid. I fear my self.
The.
Live my companion; my especial sweet one,
My brother and my bedfellow thou shalt be.
Dio.
By lakin but I must not, though I find
But weak matter against it.—This my courage!
The.
She took from earth, how kind is heaven, how good
To send me yet, a joy so near in blood!
Good noble youth, if there be any more
Distres'd of you, that claims aliance with her
Though a far off; deal freely; let me know it,
Give me their sad names; Ile seek 'em out,
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Nere cease until I plant 'em all in fortunes,
And see 'em grow about me.
Dio.
I hear of none, my self excepted, Sir.
The.
Thou shalt have all my care then, all my love.
Dio.
What make I here? I shall undo my self.
The.
Yet note him sister.
Dio.
I ther's the mark my malice chiefly aims at;
But then, he stands so near, I wound him too.
I feel that must not be. Art must be shewen here.
The.
Come, you shall kiss him for me, and bid him welcome.
Lu.
You are most welcome, Sir, and were her name
To which you are allied, a stranger here,
Yet, Sir, believe me, you in those fair eyes
Bring your own welcome with you.
Dio.
Never came Malice 'mong so sweet a people.
It knowes not how to look, nor I on them.
Lu.
Let not your gentle modesty make you seem
Ungentle to us, by turning so away.
The.
That's well said sister, but he will and shall
Be bolder with us, ere we part.
Dio.
I shall too much I fear.—
The.
Come gentle blessing,
Let not a misery be thought on here,
(If ever any were so rude to touch thee)
Between us we'll divide the comfort of thee.
Exeunt Omnes.
| The English Moor, or The Mock-Marriage | |