University of Virginia Library

SCÆNA I.

Archidamus, Cleor.
Archida.
Thou art thine owne disposer. Were his honours
And glories centupled, (as I must confesse,
Leosthenes is most worthy) yet I will not,
How euer I may counsaile, force affection.

Cleora.
It needs not, Sir, I prize him to his worth,
Nay, loue him truly, yet would not liue slau'd
To his iealous humours. Since by the hopes of heauen,
As I am free from violence, in a thought
I am not guilty.

Archida.
'Tis beleeu'd Cleora,
And much the rather, (our great gods be prais'd for't)
In that I finde beyond my hopes, no signe
Of ryot in my house, but all things order'd,
As if I had beene present.

Cleora.
May that moue you
To pitty poore Marullo.

Archida.
'Tis my purpose
To doe him all the good I can, Cleora;
But his offence being against the State,
Must haue a publique triall. In the meane time
Be carefull of your selfe, and stand ingag'd
No farther to Leosthenes, then you may
Come off with honour: For, being once his wife,
You are no more your owne, nor mine, but must
Resolue to serue, and suffer his commands,
And not dispute'em; e're it be to late,
Consider it duly. I must to the Senate.
Exit Archida.

Cleora.
I am much distracted; in Leosthenes
I can finde nothing iustly to accuse,
But his excesse of loue, which I haue studied
To cure with more then common meanes, yet still
It growes vpon him. And if I may call
My suffrings merit, I stand bound to thinke on
Marullos dangers; though I saue his life,
His loue is vnrewarded: I confesse,
Both haue deseru'd me, yet of force must be
Vniust to one; such is my destiny.
Enter Timandra.
How now? whence flowe these teares?

Timandra.
I haue met, Madam,
An obiect of such crueltie, as would force
A Sauage to compassion.

Cleora.
Speake, what is it?

Timan.
Men pitty beasts of rapine, if o're-match'd,
Though bayted for their pleasure: but these monsters
vpon a man, that can make no resistance,
Are sensllesse in their tyranny. Let it be granted,
Marullo is a slaue, hee's still a man;
A capitall offender, yet in iustice
Not to be tortur'd, till the Iudge pronounce
His punishment.

Cleora.
Where is he?

Timand.
Drag'd to prison
With more then barbarous violence, spurn'd and spit on
By the insulting officers, his hands
Pynion'd behinde his backe: loaden with fetters;
Yet, with a Saint-like patience, he still offers
His face to their rude buffets.

Cleora.
O my grieu'd soule!
By whose command?

Timandra.
It seemes, my Lord your brothers;
For hee's a looker on: and it takes from
Honour'd Leosthenes to suffer it,
For his respect to you, whose name in vaine
The grieu'd wretch loudly calls on.

Cleo.
By Diana,
'Tis base in both, and to their teeth I'll tell 'em
That I am wrong'd in't.

As going forth.
Timan.
What will you doe?

Cleo.
In person
Visit, and comfort him.

Timan.
That will bring fewell
To the iealous fires, which burne too hot already
In Lord Leosthenes.

Cleora.
Let them consume him;
I am Mistrisse of my selfe. Where crueltie raignes,
There dwels nor loue, nor honour.
Exit Cleora.

Timandra.
So, it workes.
Though hetherto I haue ranne a desperate course
To serue my brothers purposes, now 'tis fit,
Enter Leosthenes & Timagoras.
I study mine owne ends. They come. Assist me
In these my vndertakings, loues great Patron,
As my intents are honest.

Leosthenes.
'Tis my fault.
Distrust from others springs, Timagoras,
From diffidence in our selues. But I will striue,
With the assurance of my worth, and merits,
To kill this monster, iealousie.

Timagoras.
'Tis a ghest
In wisdome neuer to be entertain'd
On triuiall probalitities; but when
Hee does appeare in pregnant proofes, not fashion'd
By idle doubts and feares, to be receiu'd,
They make their owne hornes, that are too secure,
As well as such as giue them grouth, and being
From meere imagination. Though I prize
Cleora's honour equall with mine owne;
And know what large additions of power
This match brings to our family; I preferre
Our friendship, and your peace of minde so farre
Aboue my owne respects, or hers, that if
Shee hold not her true value in the test,
'Tis farre from my ambition for her cure,
That you should wound your selfe.

Timandra.
This argues for me.

Timago.
Why she should be so passionate for a Bond-man,
Falls not in compasse of my vnderstanding,
But for some neerer interest: or hee raise
This mutiny, if he lou'd her (as you say,
Shee does confesse, he did) but to enioy
By faire or foule play, what he venter'd for,
To mee's a Riddle.

Leosthenes.
'Pray you, no more; already
I haue answer'd that obiection in my strong
Assurance of her vertue.

Timagoras.
'Tis vnfit then,
That I should presse it further.

Timand.
Now I must
Timandra steps out distractedly.
Make in, or all is lost.

Timagoras.
What would Timandra?

Leosthenes.
How wilde she lookes? How is it with thy Lady?

Timagoras.
Collect thy selfe, and speake.

Timand.
As you are noble,
Haue pitty, or loue pietie. Oh!

Leosthenes.
Take breath.

Timago.
Out with it boldly.

Timag.
O, the best of Ladyes,
I feare, is gone for euer.

Leosthenes.
Who, Cleora?

Timag.
Deliuer, how. 'Sdeath, be a man, Sir, speake.

Timand.
Take it then in as many sighes, as words
My Lady.

Timag.
What of her?

Timand.
No sooner heard,
Marullo was imprison'd, but she fell
Into a deadly swoune.

Timago.
But shee recouer'd.
Say so, or he will sinke too, hold, Sir, fie,
This is vnmanly.

Timand.
Brought againe to life,
But with much labour; she awhile stood silent,
Yet in that interim vented sighes, as if
They labour'd from the prison of her flesh,
To giue her grieu'd soule freedome. On the sodaine
Transported on the wings of rage, and sorrow,
Shee flew out of the house, and vnattended
Enter'd the common prison.

Leosthenes.
This confirmes
What but before I fear'd.

Timand.
There you may finde her,
And if you loue her, as a Sister—

Timago.
Damme her.

Timand.
Or you respect her safetie, as a louer,
Procure Marullos libertie.

Timag.
Impudence
Beyond expression.

Leost.
Shall I be a Bawd
To her lust, and my dishonour?

Timand.
Shee'll runne mad else,
Or doe some violent act vpon her selfe.
My Lord her Father, sensible of her suffrings.
Labours to gaine his freedome,

Leost.
O, the Diuell!
Has she bewitch'd him too?

Timago.
I'le heare no more.
Come, Sir, wee'll follow her, and if no perswasion
Can make her take againe her naturall forme,
Which by lusts powerfull spell she has cast off,
This Sword shall dis-inchant her.

Leost.
O my heart-strings!

Exeunt Leost. and Timagoras.
Timandra.
I knew, 'twould take. Pardon me, faire Cleora,
Though I appeare a traytresse, which thou wilt doe
In pitty of my woes, when I make knowne
My lawfull claime, and onely seeke mine owne.

Exit.