 | Imperiale, a tragedie |  |
Scena Prima.
Fidele, Evagrio.Fid.
Wee see there is small hope that gentle sleepe
Can find admittance to his troubled thoughts,
While rage distracts them; he's no sooner laid
To rest upon his couch, but up he starts.
Eva.
The wise Iustinian meanes this night to bring
Some curious musicke, that may rocke his senses
Into a slumber by sweet harmony,
Working on his affections, we are all
Eternally oblig'd to that good man;
Who though he be with hearty sorrow mov'd
To see his friend in such necessity,
Ev'n of his helpe, yet is resolv'd t'employ
His constant care, nor will he ever thinke
His debt of friendship paid by my labour.
Fid.
What will become of us if he miscarry?
We are his kinsmen, and have no subsistence
But by his onely bounty; I receiv'd
A deadly wound in the deplored death
Of his deare son, who oft was pleas'd to bid me
Throw all my care on him, and now I finde
My hopefull venture sunke in that brave ship.
Eva.
To lose our friends and fortunes I confesse,
Is that which needs must shake the firmest mindes,
But when there is no hope for us t'encrease
Our owne affliction, and to lose our spirits,
Is an infirmity beneath a man:
Why should we doubt his safe recovery?
Since passion as we see, doth but disturbe
His reason, not destroy't; when he's at worst,
He'l hearken to the counsell of his friend.
How earnestly he begs, that he may speake
With Imperiale, and it seemes Iustinian
Already condiscends to his request;
Me thinks that should not be, since he suspects
Eva.
No doubt, Iustinian understands what's fit;
Perchance if once he shall his mind unburden
His passions may remit, or he may seeme
To promise, cause he would not have him crost,
These things we wholly must commit to him,
Whose Iudgement's not inferior to his love:
He wish'd us but withdraw awhile, we must
Not be farre off, least he should chance to call,
For what soe'r occasion they should have
Ther's none but we t'assist: Sango the slave
Hath taken liberty to go abroad,
At his owne pleasure, who would thinke the Villain
Durst venture to be absent at this time?
Fid.
I have observ'd a wondrous league of late
Betweene him and his Cozen slave; how ere
Their Lords are far asunder, they are neere.
Eva.
T'is ever best when such as they are kept
To dayly labor, the least ease corrupts them.
Fid.
There might perchance be some discovery made
If they were both examined apart,
And made beleeve each other had confest.
Eva.
Som plot, t'is like to steale a silver spoone
To purchase Opium, or the drug Tobacco;
That is the height of their ambitious theft:
But heark they knock I prethy go thou in,
And i'le take order to have Sango sent for.
| Imperiale, a tragedie | |