 | The Elder Brother |  |
SCENA III.
Enter Angellia, Sylvia, with a Taper.Ang.
I'm worse than e'er I was; for now I fear, that
that I love, that that I only dote on; he follows me through
every room I pass, and with a strong set eye he gazes on me,
as if his spark of innocence were blown into a flame of lust.
Virtue defend me. His Uncle too is absent, and 'tis night;
and what these opportunities may teach him—What
fear and endless care 'tis to be honest! to be a Maid what
misery, what mischief! Would I were rid of it, so it
were fairly.
Syl.
You need not fear that, will you be a child still? He
follows you, but still to look upon you; or if he did desire to
lie with ye, 'tis but your own desire, you love for that end;
I'le lay my life, if he were now a bed w'ye, he is so modest;
he would fall asleep straight.
Ang.
Dare you venture that?
Syl.
Let him consent, and have at ye; I fear him not, he
knows not what a woman is, nor how to find the mystery
men aim at. Are you afraid of your own shadow, Madam?
Ang.
He follows still, yet with a sober face; would I might
know the worst, and then I were satisfied.
Ye may both, and let him but go with ye.
Char.
Why do you flie me? what have I so ill about me,
or within me, to deserve it?
Ang.
I am going to bed, Sir.
Char.
And I am come to light ye; I am a Maid, and 'tis
a Maidens office.
Ang.
You may have me to bed, Sir, without a scruple, and
yet I am chary too who comes about me. Two Innocents
should not fear one another.
Syl.
The Gentleman says true. Pluck up your heart,
Madam.
Char.
The glorious Sun both rising and declining we boldly
look upon; even then, sweet Lady, when, like a modest
Bride, he draws nights curtains, even then he blushes, that
men should behold him.
Ang.
I fear he will perswade me to mistake him.
Syl.
'Tis easily done, if you will give your mind to't.
Ang.
Pray ye to your bed.
Char.
Why not to yours, dear Mistris? one heart and
one bed.
Ang.
True, Sir, when 'tis lawful: but yet you know—
Char.
I would not know, forget it; those are but sickly
loves that hang on Ceremonies, nurs'd up with doubts and
fears; ours high and healthful, full of belief, and sit to
teach the Priest: Love shall seal first, then hands confirm
the bargain.
Ang.
I shall be a Heretick if this continue. What would
you do a bed? you make me blush, Sir.
Char.
I'd see you sleep, for sure your sleeps are excellent,
you that are waking such a noted wonder, must in your slumber
prove an admiration. I would behold your dreams too,
if 't were possible; those were rich showes.
Ang.
I am becoming Traitor.
Char.
Then like blew Neptune courting of an Island,
where all the perfumes and the precious things that wait upon
great Nature are laid up, I'd clip it in my arms, and
chastly kiss it, dwell in your bosome like your dearest
thoughts, and sigh and weep.
Ang.
I've too much woman in me.
Char.
And those true tears falling on your pure Crystals,
should turn to armelets for great Queens t'adore.
Ang.
I must be gone.
Char.
Do not, I will not hurt ye; this is to let you know,
my worthiest Lady, y'have clear'd my mind, and I can speak
of love too: Fear not my manners, though I never knew,
before these few hours, what a Beauty was, and such a one
that fires all hearts that feel it; yet I have read of vertuous
Temperance, and study'd it among my other Secrets; and
sooner would I force a separation betwixt' this spirit and
the case of flesh, than but conceive one rudeness against
Chastity.
Ang.
Then we may walk.
Char.
And talk of any thing, any fit for your ears, and
my language; though I was bred up dull, I was ever civil;
'tis true, I have found it hard to look on you, and not desire,
'twill prove a wise mans task; yet those desires I have
so mingled still, and tempered with the quality of honour,
that if you should yield, I should hate you for't. I am no
Courtier of a light condition, apt to take fire at every beauteous
face; that only serves his will and wantonness, and
lets the serious part run by as thin neglected sand. Whiteness
of name, you must be mine, why should I rob my self of
that that lawfully must make me happy? why should I
seek to cuckold my delights, and widow all those sweets I
aim at in you? We'll lose our selves in Venus Groves of
Myrtle, where every little Bud shall be a Cupid, and sing
of love and youth, each wind that blows, and curls the
velvet leaves, shall breed delights, the wanton Springs shall
call us to their banks; and on the perfum'd flowers we'll
feast our senses; yet we'll walk by untainted of their pleasures,
and as they were pure Temples we'll talk in them.
Ang.
To bed, and pray then, we may have a fair end of
our fair loves; would I were worthy of you, or of such parents
that might give you thanks: But I am poor in all but
in your love. Once more, good night.
Char.
A good night t'ye, and may the dew of sleep fall
gently on you, sweet one, and lock up those fair lights in
pleasing slumbers; no dreams but chaste and clear attempt
your fancy, and break betimes sweet morn, I've lost my
light else.
Ang.
Let it be ever night when I lose you.
Syl.
This Scholar never went to a Free-School, he's so
simple.
Enter a Servant.
Serv.
Your Brother, with two Gallants, is at door, Sir,
and they're so violent; they'll take no denial.
Ang.
This is no fit time of night.
Char.
Let 'em in, Mistris.
Serv.
They stay no leave; shall I raise the house on 'em?
Char.
Not a man, nor make no murmur of't I charge
ye.
Enter Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
Eust.
They're here, my Uncle absent, stand close to me.
How do you, Brother, with your curious story? have you
not read her yet sufficiently?
Char.
No, Brother, no; I stay yet in the Preface: the
style's too hard for you.
Eust.
I must entreat her; she's parcel of my goods.
Char.
She's all when you have her.
Ang.
Hold off your hands, unmannerly, rude Sir; nor I,
nor what I have depend on you.
Char.
Do, let her alone, she gives good counsel; do not
trouble your self with Ladies, they are too light: Let out
your Land, and get a provident Steward.
Ang.
I cannot love ye, let that satisfie you; such vanities
as you, are to be laugh'd at.
Eust.
Nay, then you must go; I must claim mine own.
Both.
Away, away with her.
Char.
Let her alone, pray let her alone,
She strikes of Eustace's hat.
and take your Coxcomb up: Let me talk
civilly a while with you, Brother. It may be
on some terms I may part with her.
Eust.
O, is your heart come down? what
are your terms, Sir? Put up, put up.
Snatches away his sword.
Char.
This is the first and chiefest, let's
walk a turn. Now stand off, fools, I advise ye, stand as far
off as you would hope for mercy: this is the first sword yet
I ever handled, and a sword's a beauteous thing to look upon;
and if it hold, I shall so hunt your insolence: 'tis
sharp, I'm sure, and if I put it home, 'tis ten to one I shall
new pink your Sattins; I find I have spirit enough to dispose
of it, and will enough to make ye all examples; let me
toss it round, I have the full command on't. Fetch me a
native Fencer, I defie him; I feel the fire of ten strong spirits
in me. Do you watch me when my Uncle is absent?
this is my grief, I shall be flesh'd on Cowards; teach me to
fight, I willing am to learn. Are ye all gilded flies, nothing
but shew in ye? why stand ye gaping? who now touches her?
who calls her his, or who dares name her to me? but name
her as his own; who dares look on her? that shall be mortal
too; but think, 'tis dangerous. Art thou a fit man to inherit
Land, and hast no wit nor spirit to maintain it? Stand
still, thou sign of a man, and pray for thy friends, pray heartily,
good prayers may restore ye.
Ang.
But do not kill 'em, Sir.
Char.
You speak too late, Dear; it is my first fight, and
I must do bravely, I must not look with partial eyes on any;
I cannot spare a button of these Gentlemen; did life lie in
their heel, Achilles like, I'd shoot my anger at those parts,
and kill 'em. Who waits within?
Ser.
Sir.
Char.
View all these, view 'em well, go round about 'em,
and still view their faces; round about yet, see how death
waits upon 'em, for thou shalt never view 'em more.
Eust.
Pray hold, Sir.
Char.
I cannot hold, you stand so fair before me; I must
bid him post to the King, and get my pardon instantly, I
have need on't.
Eust.
Are you so unnatural?
Char.
You shall die last, Sir, I'll take thee dead, thou
art no man to fight with. Come, will ye come? Me-thinks
I've fought whole Battels.
Cow.
We have no quarrel to you that we know on, Sir.
Egre.
We'll quit the house, and ask ye mercy too. Good
Lady, let no murther be done here; we came but to parly.
Char.
How my sword thirsts after them? Stand away,
Sweet.
Eust.
Pray, Sir, take my submission, and I disclaim for
ever.
Char.
Away, ye poor things, ye despicable creatures!
do you come poste to fetch a Lady from me? from a poor
School-boy that ye scorn'd of late, and grow lame in your
hearts when you should execute? Pray take her, take her,
I am weary of her: What did you bring to carry her?
Egre.
A Coach and four Horses.
Char.
But are they good?
Egre.
As good as France can shew Sir.
Char.
Are you willing to leave those, and take your safeties?
Speak quickly.
Eust.
Yes with all our hearts.
Char.
'Tis done then. Many have got one Horse, I've
got four by th'bargain.
Enter Miramont.
Mir.
How now, who's here?
Ser.
Nay, now y'are gone without bail.
Mir.
What, drawn, my Friends? Fetch me my two-hand
Sword; I will not leave a head on your shoulders,
Wretches.
Eust.
In troth, Sir, I came but to do my duty.
Both.
And we to renew our loves.
Mir.
Bring me a Blanket. What came they for?
Ang.
To borrow me a while, Sir; but one that never
fought yet, has so curri'd, so bastinado'd them with manly
carriage, they stand like things Gorgon had turn'd to stone:
they watch'd your being absent, and then thought they
might do wonders here, and they have done so; for by my
troth I wonder at their coldness, the nipping North or Frost
never came near them; St
George upon a sign would grow
more sensible. If the name of Honour were for ever to
be lost, these were the most sufficient men to do it in all
the world; and yet they are but young, what will they rise
to? They're as full of fire as a frozen Glow-worms rattle,
and shine as goodly: Nobility and patience are match'd
rarely in these three Gentlemen, they have right use on't;
they'll stand still for an hour and be beaten. These are the
Anagrams of three great Worthies.
Mir.
They will infect my house with cowardize, if they
breath longer in it; my roof covers no baffl'd Monsieurs,
walk and air your selves; as I live they stay not here.
White-liver'd wretches, without one word to ask a reason
why. Vanish, 'tis the last warning, and with speed; for
if I take ye in hand, I shall dissect you, and read upon your
flegmatick dull Carcases. My Horse again there: I have
other business, which you shall hear hereafter, and laugh
at it. Good-night Charles, fair goodness to your dear Lady;
'tis late, 'tis late.
Ang.
Pray, Sir, be careful of us.
Mir.
It is enough, my best care shall attend ye.
[Exeunt.
| The Elder Brother | |