 | The Princess of Cleve |  |
SCENE II.
Tournon, Nemours.Nem.
Resolv'd never to see me more, and give up her Honour to
the Dauphin, that puling sniveling Prince, that looks as if
he suck'd still, or were always in a Milk Diet for the Sins of his Florentine
Mother.
Tour.
Bless me! you are jealous.
Nem.
I confess it—The last time I had her in Disguise, she made
such Discoveries as I shall never forget: Lose her I must not, no, I'll
lose a Limb first, therefore go tell her, tell her the Prince of Cleve's
Death has wrought my Conversion, I grow weary of my wild Courses,
repent of my Sins, am resolv'd to leave off Whoreing and marry his
Wife—
Tour.
So the Town talks indeed.
Nem.
The Town is as it always was and will be, a Talk, a Hum, a
Buz, and a great Lye—Do as I bid thee, and tell her, just as you left
me, I was going to make my Court to the Princess upon her Husband's
Tomb, which is true too, I mean a Visit by the way of Consolation,
of her Soul; nay, I wou'd choose such a time for my life, and 'tis like
the rest of those starts, and one of the Secrets of their Nature—Why
they melt, nay, in Plagues, Fire, Famine, War, or any great Calamity—
Mark it—Let a man stand but right before 'em, and like hunted Hares
they run into his lap.
Tour.
But who's the Instrument to bring you to her?
Nem.
Her Uncle the Vidam, she lies at his House immur'd in a dark
room, with her Husband's Image in her view, and so resolves, he says,
for Death. However I'll sound her in the ebb of her Soul, if my Boat
run aground 'tis but calling for Marguerite, and she'll weep a Tide that
shall set me afloat agen—As thus, I'll lay the Dauphin in her dish,
nose her in the Tiptoe of her Pride, Railing, Lying, Laming, Hanging,
Drowning, Dying, and she comes about agen.
[Exit.
Tour.
Go thy ways Petronius, nay, if he were dying too, with his
Veins cut, he wou'd call for Wine, Fiddles and Whores, and laugh himself
into the other World.
Where's Marguerite?
La M.
She follows like a Wind, with swollen Cheeks, ruffled Hair,
and glareing Eyes, the Princess of Cleve has found her Fury, nor will she
yet believe it.
| The Princess of Cleve | |