 | The Combat of Love and Friendship |  |
1
Act. 1.
Scen. I.
Lysander.Instruct me some kinde Power,
To which I may most Lawfully prove false;
My friend, or Mistress.
But what talk I of Law? as if that faith
Could ere be broke with Justice!
Rather, which
Can my heart suffer to be torn away,
And snatch'd from its own sinews?
Which of them can my soul part with upon easiest tearms?
For thus stands my ambiguous fate, that one
Side of my heart must needs be ript from t'other,
For so these two had fill'd it; one side each:
My share was almost nothing; onely that
2
Friendship, thou art a name, and nothing real,
A meer and empty word, and
Here I quit thee,
Ile not be fetter'd in fantastick chains,
To court Ideas, nothings, and adore
A strange Platonick Cupid. Give me Love,
That has some Life and vigor in it: Love
That shall delight our bloods as well as Fancies.—
But stay: Is this Lysander? No, some Feind,
Some false malicious spirit crept within me,
To poyson all my Faith. Methinks
I am too earthy; and
I feel my clogg'd thoughts groveling
To baseness. O my Theocles!
Pardon me friend; when I forget that name,
May I be miserable; nay I need not wish it, for
'Tis imply'd in that, and I may well
Now save my curse.
(To him a Servant)
Ser.
Sir, here's a Messenger
With commendations from Artemone.
Lys.
That Name again confounds me,
Startles all my Loyal thoughts,
And shakes my yielding Vertue
To a weak coldnesse. Can I part with thee
My Artemone? No; thee Theocles?
O my distracted heart! methinks I feel
The Nerves by several Engines, rack't two wayes,
And almost torn to—
Ser.
—Pray Sir,
What answer shall I return?
Lys.
I had forgot thy business: say I come,— (Ex. Ser.)
Yet sure there might be found a middle path,
Wherein I might observe an equal pace,
Of faith to both. Ile think on't— (Ex. Lysan.)
3
SCEN. II.
Artemone, Hyperia.Art.
O wench, ne're trust 'em, th'are th'unconstans't
Things in all the world,
They still exclaim on us; tell us
We are more wavering then our feathers,
And that we change more often then the Moon,
With such like sickly Fancies. But if
'Twere so, in them the cause is;
Had but men a care, still to observe,
And please us as at first, we
Still should be the same; our fancies never change;
But the object alters, and then we
Out of our Constancy, are forc't to chuse
Another, which may please as that did first.
Hyp.
But Madam,
I do hope you finde no reason to apply
Ought of this to your Lysander.
Art.
No? what think you then
Of his long absence?
Hyp.
What some two dayes? I promise you
I know some Lovers, and those of the best file too,
That do presume more on their Mistress favours:
As there's your stalking Signior, he that comes
Hither a wooing still in state, that tells
Long stories of his Pedigrees, and Honours,
In stead of Amorous Passions.
Art.
Who, Philonax?
Hyp.
Yes, he that scorns to wooe the common way,
But keeps his distance still, and courts by the Rule:
So much a day: observes a kinde of dyet
In all his wooing: Sooth wer't to me, I'de make
His stately hams to cringe before I had him,
And afterward let me alone.
Art.
I prethee tell, how has Lysander brib'd thee
4
Hyp.
True Madam,
I'ue been brib'd; but by his vertues,
His fair Respects to you, and noble Carriage.
Art.
Ha, ha, ha.—
Hyp.
Indeed I do confesse, it is not usual
Amongst us Chamber-Creatures to be brib'd
With such uncoyned mettal.
Art.
I believe thee;
But prithee tell me true, does he not use
To charme thy Tongue by some more powerful motive,
And chaine it to himself in golden Links?
Come, come, I know he still does use thee kindly,
Cause Thou belong'st to me.
Hyp.
Madam, I hope
You are not Jealous of me, yet Ile tell you
All that I know, though not as to Create
A good Opinion in you, but confirm
That which you do conceive already of Him.
He's truly Generous, but far from Bribing:
For sure, I think, he cannot be so unjust
To his own Merits, as distrust 'em so
To think they want a mercenary Advocate.
Art.
Nay, but, I prethee, haste to his Opinion
Concerning me.
Hyp.
He thinkes, as all do else,
You are Perfections Store-house, and does love
One onely in the world as well as you.
Art.
O Hyperia!
And canst Thou call him faithful which dos pledge
His faith to more then one? That, That is it
Which I have still suspected, and it cuts
My very heart strings.
Hyp.
But Madam here he comes,
I hope will Cure 'em strait.
5
SCEN. 3.
To them Lysander.Lys.
Madam you might have spar'd your messenger,
My own distressed thoughts did prompt me to you,
As to my Tutelar Goddesse.
Art.
So perhaps
You use to Court your other Mistresse too.
Lys.
How Lady? what strange Language do I hear!
Yo'ue strooke a damp into my soul, which but
So soon exhald by those quick beauteous rayes,
Had stifled all my Spirits. Let that tongue
Be blasted, that hath so infected yours.
Art.
The witnesse is not far from hence, My woman,
Who can confirm from your own mouth so much.
Lys.
My own mouth be accurst then. speake Thou monster,
Confesse the truth, for that is it must clear me.
Hyp.
That is, I know the Party, whom you love
As dear as this my mistresse, and can prove it,
Out of your own confession.
Lys.
O the Malice
Of faith-betraying Chambermaids! Nay sure
I cannot dare t' outlive that cursed minute
Which gives my faith suspected to my Mistresse;— (drawes)
Lady, unlock my Breast, and you shall find
A heart as undefild, as is your beauty,
Or if you will not, I can do't my self.
Hyp.
Hold Sir, tis Theocles, her Brother.
Lys.
See I pray the grounds
Of your strong Jealousie. Thy Pardon Virgin:
Yet thou didst ill in holding us so long
In such a strange suspence.
Art.
Beshrew Thee wench
For putting me to such a fright: yet still,— (aside)
Pray heaven it be none other: I suspect
The sword unsheath'd made her conceale the Truth.
6
But Madam I shall shake your faith I fear,
In craving but one favour at your hands.
Art.
What ere it be I'le think th' occasion happy
That may the more oblige you to me, speak it.
Lys.
With much reluctancy and fear t' offend you,
I'm forc't to aske it, and desire you would
Incompasse round your heart with a strong faith
That I can never really forsake you.
'Tis that I may go court Another Mistresse.
Art.
Is this my Brother? Come you need not hide it,
What should you fear my anger, or Offence?
The thing you aske doth free you from all Love,
And consequently fear of me: why should you
Care how I take it, having thus forsaken me?
Lys.
O you are much mistaken Madam; Love,
Excessive love of you, doth force me to it;
Your Bother (in whose blisse I know lyes yours)
Is deep in love with fair Ethusa, who
Stoutly rejects all Entertainment of
His true affection, till her Sister shall
(To whose disposal she hath given her self)
Freely consent, and wish her to it: now
She, more then I desire, affecting me;
Denyes all help to Theocles, unlesse
He also use the self same power on me,
And by that power with me conform me to her;
Could you but now dispence with me a while,
(Without your leave I dare not) I could soon
Effect what he desires, and then return
With as much joy to you, as he that having
Forsaken for a while his native Countrie,
Friends, and his safty too; being come home
Kisses the Soile he left, and counts himself
For all his many dangers and more fears
Happie at least in this, that now he knows
To set a higher rate on the kind favour
Which Heaven at first bestow'd.
Art.
Nay Sir you may
7
I am not, I thank Heaven, so fond to sue,
Or broke for Servants.
Lys.
Thinke not, fairest Mistresse,
That I can ever truly Love but you,
I can in any shape adore your Vertues,
And still reserving in my Constant heart
Your fair Idea, Court another Beauty
With Amorous devotion; but such
As still must rest and point it self in you.
Art.
Sir, that Devotion which adores the Image
May chance perswade It self, that through that Image
It worships the true Deity: but yet
Must Excuse others that do still suspect it
As very like Idolatrie, if not It.
Lys.
Madam that strength of Light, that does incircle
The Pow'rs above, Admits no mortal gaze:
Yet by Reflexion perhaps we may
Gather a glance, or so: As through a glasse
We can outface the Sun, and by those weak
Nerves of our Sense collect those Scatter'd beams,
As they do guild some Wall or Turret, which
By an immediate view beheld, would dart
Flames in our Eyes to punish our Presumption.
So that sometime a Reverence may as well
Keep us from that we love, as Love invite us.
Art.
But Sir, take heed least your Idolatrous love,
Passe not so truly through the fictitious object,
As still remain there: sure the jealous gods
Accept immediate worship, rather then
What's done through th' Image, and comes not to them
But by a Proxie: howso'ere the cause
Which you pretend, with your large promises,
May keep me still the same unto your love,
So that your frequent visits strengthen me
In my much shaken faith.
Lys.
Madam, I leave
My heart with you in pawn, that you may know,
8
That still remains your own.— (Ex. Lysan.)
Art.
Hyperia,
I did not think th' hadst lov'd me, or the truth
So faintly, as for any threatning, to
Conceal ought, prejudicial unto either.
Come, come, I know, for all the cunning carriage,
Ther's more in't then so; your first expressions
Could not well suit with any friend, but Mistress,
Till fear apply'd e'm: but it may be now,
That being over, thou'lt reveal the truth.
I do conjure thee here, by all my favours,
(Which I shall much repent, if thou confess not)
Tell me sincerely, what at first you meant.
Hyp.
Madam, if all the carriage of my life
Have gain'd you this faith of me,
That I can speak any truth at all: believe me now;
If I or know, or think, but that Lysander
Among all women living, loves you onelie,
May I ne'r find your mercy, no nor heavens.
Art.
I cannot yet be confident, I much want
Some forcive Argument to re-establish
My doubtful thoughts.
To them Diarchus.
Hyp.
And here comes one, I'm sure
Will bring you none, your uncle Madam; this
Is he quite poysons all; Lysanders enemie:
Yet hath no reason for't, but that he is
His fathers son.
Diar.
I met Lysander here,
Now comming from you; Neece, I wonder much
You will give entertainment to a man
You know descended from the ancient enemie
To all our familie.
Art.
Pardon me uncle,
If that I be not yet of that opinion;
To think that hate must be successive, or
Malice hereditarie.
Diar.
Yet believe me,
9
Why the son ought not take the fathers part.
Come Neece, be wise; ther's the Noble Count
That loves you well I'm sure: In him you may
Bring honour to your self, and you well know
He has your Fathers free consent.
Art.
But Sir,
I hope I have a suffrage in this Bus'nesse,
My voice too would be ask'd.
Diar.
See, here they come
For the same purpose too, I think.
SCEN. 4.
To them Melesippus. Philonax. Attendants.Mel.
Daughter,
Though in this matter here of weight I would not
Force you to any thing; yet I could wish
Your liking would concur with mine. I here
Present unto you him, who, in my esteem,
Deserves your love best, and I hope will find it.
Diar.
For all that Sir, I think it very fit,
That children should be rul'd.
Mel.
Nay I esteem it
No Marriage; but a well nam'd Rape, where friends
Force Love upon their Children; where the Virgin
Is not so truly given, as betraid.
I would not have Betrothed people (for
I can by no means call e'm Lovers) do
Such Pennance in their marriage sheets, and make
The Rites no Wedlock, but a Sacrifice.
Where like an Innocent Lamb, the passive Virgins
Heart is Torn from her Entrailes, not Entic'd:
Being condemn'd, not wedded to her Husband:
Wherefore I will not practise what I may,
But hope nerth'lesse to find my will perform'd.
10
Sir, the continual carriage of my Life
Hath been one Act of Dutie and Obedience;
And that in this I may not stain the rest,
But steer my Thoughts by yours; I do desire
Some time of respite.
Mel.
Take't, but have a care,
Your hoodwink't vent'rous Passion oversway not
Your Reason: Think whom here I have commended.
Art.
I shall, Sir.
Mel.
Now to you, thus having made
Your way, I wish successe.
Diar.
And Sir, I think
After your Merits have display'd themselves,
It may be our Presumption, not our Prayer.— (Exe. Mele. Diar.)
Phi.
My thanks to both. Madam I make no question
But that you easily believe these friends,
And partly from your own experience know
How well I have deserv'd you; otherwise
I should relate my self, how much you are
Oblig'd for this observance which I shew you,
By condescending thus to court a Ladie
That sued not first to me.
Art.
Sir, though I think
Most might be proud of such a favour from you,
And prize it high.—
Phi.
Nay faith, I must confesse
My threshold groans under the daily Clients,
And little Legs that come from Ladies to me:
And I receive so many Tickets from 'em,
That I am fain to hang e'm upon wires,
As 'Pothecaries do their Physick Bills,
And serve e'm out as the bragging Captain did
His Challenges, so many to a day,
Each in his turn: I've disappointed three now.
Art.
—Yet, as I was about to tell you Sir,
I am not of that fancie as to sue
To any man, that does not first appear
A Client unto me.
11
It seems so Ladie:
And yet I am not of that general Tenet
That does admit no female wooers, surely
Your sex is not deny'd that Libertie of soul
To like what ere you apprehend as good.
Who does forbid the enamour'd wedge of Iron
To steal unto the Loadstone, and to knit
It self unto it in an amorous kisse,
Not but by violence to be disjoyn'd? who e're
Censur'd the uxorious Ivie, that it Courts
The stout tall Oak, and twines it self about
Like to some passionate Lover? as if willing
To shrowd the exposed bulk from threatning dangers,
And tell the hostile wind, or envious hand,
That heaves an Axe against it, you must passe
Through me to injure this, hoping to see
Furie at last appeas'd by the soft object;
Yet howsoere, till death, does not forsake him,
But falls in an Embrace, as if desiring
To be intomb'd together, and made one Pile.
Art.
Sure were those dregs of Pride drain'd from his soul— aside.
He would appear of most refined thoughts.
But Sir, what Nature may excuse in them,
Reason corrects in us.
Phi.
Nay but the rather,
Knowing your soules indu'd with such a treasure
That can direct and guide your Passions, should you
Pursue the Object when by it approv'd.
Art.
True Sir, if Reason did commend it to us,
Likely we should consent.
Phi.
Believe't in this
Your Reason and your Will are much the same,
You can desire nothing but what that does
(First having weigh'd and ponder'd well each scruple,
That may object it self) commend as good;
For whatsoere bounds our affection,
Must first appear unto our Judgment lovely,
12
That passe unto the Closet of the will.
Art.
Nay I shall easily grant that we can love,
And love with reason too, but still am Heretick
To your Position, that we ought to court
The object so belov'd.
Phi.
See Madam now,
Your thoughts are not deny'd to be as willing
And ready too, as ours, but the expression
You think unfit, and so will needs set up
A kind of Just Hypocrisie, nay Vertuous,
Whilest that which you stile modestie, is onely
A more allowable and fair dissembling.
For so 'tis in effect: you must appear
Unwilling when desiring nothing more:
You must seem backward, and be much intreated,
Nay sometimes scarce entreated unto that
Which should you misse of, you would curse your vertues,
And count your Modestie injurious: But
Madam, what onely I discourse to you,
I practise among other Ladies: here
You see I break my use, and therefore will not
Ask what adventure I shall undertake
To gain your love; I think you will conceive
That the first act of wooing was a merit:
And that I mov'd my suit, deserv'd it.
Art.
Nay,
'Tis not enough to manifest a Love
In bare appearances; Each man perhaps
When ere his Blood runs high, can court a Mistresse
With eager zeal and fervour; but 'tis he
Alone, whose Soul prompts him to purer Love,
Deserves reciprocal Affection.
Phi.
As for my soul you may know that hereafter;
And for my Blood, you know, I've told you often
'Tis o'th' noblest strain, deriv'd from such
Who were the glorie of the Roman State:
13
Know by Report it is not stain'd in me.
I have maintained still the Credit of
Our Familie, and as I can remember
Never descended yet so low as now,
Which I trust you'l consider.
Art.
Sir I know
You would esteem it but a Lightnesse in me
To give away my heart almost at th' first
Demand, and having had so small experience.
I have some thoughts that disaffect me now,
And hinder all Deliberation
Of Love: hereafter you may hear more from me.
Phi.
Madam I wait upon you.— (Exe. Philo. Arte.)
Hyp.
Pray Heav'n that all these storms thus coming on,
Like wave and waves one on anothers back,
Shake not her promis'd faith unto Lysander,
And ruin't quite: The Gods I think take part
Thus to disjoynt their loves. Her Jealousie
First back'd with those appearing Reasons may
Be strengthned by these Motives, ne're decay.
The end of the first Act.
| The Combat of Love and Friendship | |