 | The Prophetesse |  |
Actus Tertius.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Maximinian (solus.)Max.
What powerful Star shin'd at this mans Nativity?
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what throngs of people presse and buz about him,
and with their humming flatteries sing him Cæsar?
sing him aloud, and grow hoarse with saluting him?
How the fierce-minded Souldier steals in to him,
adores and courts his Honour? at his devotion
their lives, their vertues and their fortunes laying?
Charinus sues, the Emperour intreats him,
and as a brighter flame, takes his beams from him.
The bless'd and bright Aurelia, she doats on him,
and as the god of Love, burns incense to him.
All eyes live on him. Yet I am still Maximinian,
still the same poor and wretched thing, his servant.
What have I got by this? where lies my glory?
how am I rais'd and honour'd? I have gone as far
to woo this purblinde Honour, and have pass'd
as many dangerous Expeditions,
as noble, and as high; nay, in his destinie
(whilst 't was unknown) have run as many hazards,
and done as much; sweat thorow as many perils;
onely the Hang-man of Volutius Aper
(which I mistook) has made him Emperour,
and me his slave.
Enter Delphia and Drusilla.
Del.
Stand still; he cannot see us,
till I please: mark him well, this discontentment
I have forc'd into him, for thy cause, Drusilla.
Max.
Can the gods see this;
see it with justice, and confer their blessings
on him, that never flung one grain of incense
upon their Altars? never bow'd his knee yet;
and I that have march'd foot by foot, struck equally,
and whilst he was a gleaning, have been praying,
contemning his base covetous—
Del.
Now we'll be open.
Max.
Blesse me, and with all reverence.
Del.
Stand up, Son,
and wonder not at thy ungrateful Uncle:
I know thy thoughts, and I appear to ease 'em.
Max.
O mother, did I stand the tenth part to ye
engag'd and fetter'd, as mine Uncle does,
how would I serve, how would I fall before ye?
the poorer powers me worship.
Del.
Peace, and flatter not;
necessitie and anger draws this from ye;
of both which I will quit ye: For your Uncle
I spoke this Honour, and it fell upon him;
fell, to his full content: he has forgot me,
for all my care; forgot me, and his vow too:
as if a dream had vanish'd, so h' as lost me,
and I him: let him now stand fast. Come hither;
my care is now on you.
Max.
O blessed Mother!
Del.
Stand still, and let me work. So now, Maximinian,
go, and appear in Court, and eye Aurelia:
beleeve, what I have done, concerns ye highly.
Stand in her view, make your addresses to her:
she is the Satyre of Honour. I'll say no more,
but Fortune is your servant: go.
Max.
With reverence;—
all this as holy truths.
Exit.
Del.
Believe, and prosper.
Dru.
Yet all this cures not me; but as much credit,
as much belief from Dioclesian.
Enter Geta, Lictors, and Suitors, (with Petitions.)
Del.
Be not dejected; I have warn'd ye often:
the proudest thoughts he has, I'll humble. Who's this?
O 't is the fool and knave grown a grave Officer:
here's hot and high preferment.
Get.
What's your Bill?
for Gravel for the Appian way, and Pills?
is the way rheumatick?
1 Suitor.
'T is Piles, and 't please you.
Get.
Remove me those Piles to Port Esquiline,
fitter the place, my friend: you shall be paid.
1 Suit.
I thank your Worship.
Get.
Thank me when ye have it;
thank me another way, ye are an Asse else.
I know my Office: you are for the Streets, Sir.
Lord, how ye throng that knave has eaten Garlick;
whip him, and bring him back.
3 Suitor.
I beseech you Worship;
here's an old reckoning for the dung and dirt, Sir.
Get.
It stinks like thee: Away. Yet let him tarry,
his Bill shall quit his Breath. Give your Petitions
in seemly sort, and keep your hats off, decently.
For scowring the Water-courses thorow the Cities?
a fine periphrasis of a kennel-raker.
Did ye scour all, my friend? ye had some businesse:
who shall scour you? you are to be paid, I take it,
when Surgeons swear you have performed your Office.
4 Suit.
Your Worship's merry.
Get.
We must be sometimes wittie,
to nick a knave; 't is as useful as our gravitie.
I'll take no more Petitions; I am pester'd;
give me some rest.
4 Suit.
I have brought the gold (and 't please ye)
about the Place ye promised.
Get.
See him enter'd.
How does your daughter?
4 Suit.
Better your Worship thinks of her.
Get.
This is with the least. But let me see your daughter.
'T is a good forward maid; I'll joyn her with ye.
I do beseech ye, leave me.
Lictor.
Ye see the Edile's busie.
Get.
And look to your Places, or I'll make ye smoke else.
Sirha, I drank a cup of wine at your house yesterday;
a good smart wine.
Lict.
Send him the piece, he likes it.
Get.
And ate the best wilde Boar at that same Farmors.
2 Su.
I have half left yet: your Worship shall command it
Get.
A bit will serve: give me some rest: gods help me.
How shall I labour when I am a Senator?
Del.
'T is a fit place indeed. 'Save your Mastership;
do you know us, Sir?
Get.
These women are still troublesom.
There be houses providing for such wretched women,
and some small Rents, to set ye a spinning.
Dru.
Sir,
we are no Spinsters; nor, if you look upon us,
so wretched as you take us.
Del.
Does your Mightinesse
that is a great destroyer of your Memorie,
yet understand our faces?
Get.
'Prethee keep off, woman;
it is not fit I should know every creature.
Although I have been familiar with thee heretofore,
I must not know thee now: my place neglects thee.
Yet, because I daign a glimpse of your remembrances,
give me your Suits, and wait me a month hence.
Del.
Our Suits are (Sir) to see the Emperour,
the Emperour Dioclesian, to speak to him,
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Get.
I laugh at your simplicitie, poor women:
see the Emperour? why you are deceiv'd: now
the Emperour appears but once in seven yeers,
and then he shines not on such weeds as you are.
Forward, and keep your State, and keep beggers from me.
Drus.
Here is a prettie youth.
Exeunt.
Enter Diocles.
Del.
He shall be prettie,
or I will want my will, since ye are so high, Sir:
I'll raise ye higher, or my art shall fail me.
Stand close, he comes.
Dio.
How am I cross'd and tortur'd?
my most wish'd happinesse, my lovely Mistris,
that must make good my hopes, and link my greatnesse,
yet sever'd from mine arms? Tell me, high heaven,
how have I sinn'd, that you should speak in thunder,
in horrid thunder, when my heart was ready:
to leap into her brest? the Priest was ready?
the joyful virgins and the young men ready?
when Hymen stood with all his flames about him
blessing the bed? the house with full joy sweating?
and expectation, like the Romane Eagle,
took stand, and call'd all eyes? It was your Honour;
and ere you give it full; do you destroy it?
or was there some dire Star? some devil that did it?
some sad malignant Angel to mine honour?
With you, I dare not rage.
Del.
With me thou canst not,
though it was I. Nay, look not pale and frighted;
I'll fright thee more. With me thou canst not quarrel;
I rais'd the thunder, to rebuke thy falshood:
look here, to her thy falshood. Now be angry,
and be as great in evil as in Empire.
Dio.
Blesse me, ye Powers.
Del.
Thou hast full need of blessing.
'T was I, that at thy great Inauguration,
hung in the air unseen: 't was I that honoured thee
with various Musicks, and sweet sounding airs:
't was I inspired the souldiers heart with wonder,
and made him throw himself, with love and duty,
lowe as thy feet: 't was I that fix'd him to thee.
But why did I all this? To keep thy honestie,
thy vow and faith, that once forgot and slighted
Aurelia in regard, the Marriage ready,
the Priest and all the Ceremonies present.
'T was I that thundred loud; 't was I that threatned;
't was I that cast a dark face over heaven,
and smote ye all with terrour.
Drus.
Yet consider,
as ye are noble, as I have deserv'd ye;
for yet ye are free: if neither faith nor promise,
the deeds of elder times may be remembred,
let these new-dropping tears; for I still love ye,
these hands held up to heaven.
Dio.
I must not pitie ye;
't is not wise in me.
Del.
How? not wise?
Dio.
Nor honourable.
A Princesse is my Love, and doats upon me:
a fair and lovely Princesse is my Mistris.
I am an Emperour: consider, Prophetesse,
now my embraces are for Queens and Princesses,
for Ladies of high mark, for divine beauties:
to look so lowe as this cheap common sweetnesse,
would speak me base, my names and glories nothing.
I grant I made a vow; what was I then?
as she is now, of no sort (Hope made me promise)
but now I am: to keep this vow, were monstrous,
a madnesse, and a lowe inglorious fondnesse.
Del.
Take heed, proud man.
Drus.
Princes may love with Titles,
but I with Truth.
Del.
Take heed; here stands thy destinie;
thy Fate here follows.
Dio.
Thou doating Sorceresse,
wouldst have me love this Thing, that is not worthy
to kneel unto my Saint? to kisse her shadow?
Great Princes are her slaves; selected beauties
bow at her beck: the mighty Persian's daughter
(bright as the breaking East, as the mid-day glorious)
waits her commands, and grows proud in her pleasures.
I'll see her honour'd: some Watch I shall think of,
that shall advance ye both; mean time I'll favour ye.
Exit.
Del.
Mean time I'll haunt thee. Cry not (wench) be confident,
ere long, thou shalt more pitie him (observe me)
and pitie him in truth, then now thou seek'st him:
my Art and I are yet companions. Come, Girl.
Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Geta, Lictors.Get.
I am too merciful, I finde it (friends)
of too soft a nature to be an Officer;
I bear too much remorse.
1 Lict.
'T is your own fault, Sir;
for look you, One so newly warm in Office
should lay about him blindfold, like true Justice,
hit where it will: the more ye whip and hang, Sir,
(though without cause; let that declare it self afterward)
the more ye are admired.
Get.
I think I shall be.—
2 Lict.
Your Worship is a man of a spare body,
and prone to anger.
Get.
Nay, I will be angry,
and, the best is, I need not shew my reason.
2 Lict.
You need not, Sir, your place is without reason;
and what you want in growth and full proportion,
make up in rule and rigour.
Get.
A rare Counsellor;
instruct me further. Is it fit, my friends,
the Emperour my Master Dioclesian
should now remember or the Times or Manners
that call'd him plain down Diocles?
1 Lict.
He must not,
it stands not with his Royaltie.
Get.
I grant ye,
I being then the Edile Getianus,
a man of Place, and Judge, it is held requisite
I should commit to my consideration
those Rascals of removed and ragged hours,
that with unreverend mouthes call'd me Slave Geta?
2 Lict.
You must forget their names; your Honour bids ye.
Get.
I do forget; but I'll hang their natures:
I will ascend my Place, which is of Justice;
and Mercy, I forget thee.
Suitor.
A rare Magistrate;
another Solon sure.
Get.
Bring out the offenders.
1 Lict.
There are none yet, Sir, but no doubt there will be.
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Get.
And am I ready, and mine anger too?
the melancholy of a Magistrate upon me,
and no offenders to execute my fury?
Ha? no offenders, knaves?
1 Lict.
There are knaves indeed, Sir,
but we hope shortly to have 'em for your Worship.
Get.
No men to hang or whip? are you good Officers,
that provide no fuel for a Judges fury?
in this Place something must be done; this Chair, I tell ye,
when I sit down, must favour of Severitie:
therefore I warn ye all, bring me lewd people,
or likely to be lewd; twigs must be cropt too:
let me have evil persons in abundance,
or make 'em evil; 't is all one, do but say so,
that I may have fit matter for a Magistrate;
and let me work. If I sit empty once more,
and lose my longing, as I am true Edile,
and as I hope to rectifie my Countrie,
you are those scabs I will scratch off from the Commonwealth:
you are those Rascals of the State I treat of,
and you shall finde and feel.—
2 Lict.
You shall have many,
many notorious people.
Get.
Let 'em be people,
and take ye notorious to your selves. Mark me, my Lictors,
and you, the rest of my Officials;
If I be angry, as my place will ask it,
and want fit matter to dispose my Authoritie,
I'll hang a hundred of ye: I'll not stay longer,
nor enquire no further into your offences:
it is sufficient that I finde no Criminals,
and therefore I must make some: if I cannot,
suffer my self; for so runs my Commission.
Suitor.
An admirable, zealous and true Justice.
1 Lict.
I cannot hold: if there be any people,
of what degree soever, or what qualitie,
that would behold the wonderful works of Justice
in a new Officer, a man conceal'd yet,
let him repair, and see, and hear, and wonder
at the most wise and gracious Getianus.
Enter Delphia and Drusilla.
Get.
This qualifies a little. What are these?
Del.
You shall not mourn still: times of recreation,
to allay this sadnesse, must be sought. What's here?
a superstitious flock of senslesse people
worshipping a signe in Office?
Get.
Lay hold on her,
and hold her fast,
she'll slip thorow your fingers like an Eel else;
I know her tricks: hold her, I say, and binde her,
or hang her first, and then I'll tell her wherefore.
Del.
What have I done?
Get.
Thou hast done enough to undo thee;
thou hast pressed to the Emperours presence without my warrant,
I being his key and image.
Del.
You are an image indeed,
and of the coursest stuff, and the worst making
that ere I look'd on yet: I'll make as good an image of an Asse.
Get.
Besides, thou art a woman of a lewd life.
Del.
I am nowhere, Sir, nor no common fame
has yet proclaim'd me to the people, vitious.
Get.
Thou art to me a damnable lewd woman,
which is as much as all the people swore it;
I know thou art a keeper of tame devils:
and whereas great and grave men of my Place
can by the Laws be allow'd but one apiece,
for their own services and recreations;
thou, like a traiterous quean, keepst twenty devils;
twenty in ordinary.
Del.
Pray ye, Sir, be pacified,
if that be all: and if ye want a servant,
you shall have one of mine shall serve for nothing,
faithful, and diligent, and a wise devil too;
think for what end.
Get.
Let her alone, 't is useful;
we men of businesse must use speedie servants:
let me see your family.
Del.
Think but one, he is ready.
Get.
A devil for intelligence? No, no,
he will lye beyond all travellers. A State-devil?
Neither; he will undo me at mine own weapon.
For execution? he will hang me too.
I would have a handsom, pleasant and a fine she-devil,
to entertain the Ladies that come to me;
a travell'd devil too, that speaks the tongues,
and a neat carving devil.
Musick.
Enter a she-devil.
Del.
Be not fearful.
Get.
A prettie brown devil ifaith; may I not kisse her?
Del.
Yes, and embrace her too; she is your servant.
Fear not; her lips are cool enough.
Get.
She is marvellous well mounted; what's her name?
Del.
Lucifera.
Get.
Come hither, Lucifera, and kisse me.
Del.
Let her sit on your knee.
Get.
The Chair turns: hey-boys:
pleasant ifaith, and a fine facetious devil.
Dance.
Del.
She would whisper in your ear, and tell ye wonders.
Get.
Come; what's her name?
Del.
Lucifera.
Get.
Come, Lucie, come, speak thy minde. I am certain burnt to ashes.
Exeunt.
I have a kinde of Glasse-house in my cod-piece.
Are these the flames of State? I am rosted over,
over, and over-rosted. Is this Office?
the pleasures of Authoritie? I'll no more on't,
till I can punish devils too; I'll quit it.
Some other Trade now, and some course lesse dangerous,
or certainly I'll tyle again for two pence.
Exit.
Scœna Tertia.
Enter Charinus, Aurelia, Cassana, Ambassadours, Attendants.Aur.
Never dispute with me; you cannot have her:
nor name the greatnesse of your King; I scorn him:
your knees to me are nothing; should he bow too,
it were his dutie, and my power to slight him.
Cha.
She is her woman; never sue to me;
and in her power to render her, or keep her;
and she, my sister, not to be compell'd,
nor have her own snatch'd from her.
Amb.
We desire not,
but for what ransom she shall please to think of;
Jewels, or Towns, or Provinces.
Aur.
No ransom,
—No, not your Kings own head, his crown upon it,
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Am.
Fair Princes should have tender thoughts.
Aur.
Is she too good
to wait upon the mighty Emperours sister?
What Princesse of that sweetnesse, or that excellence,
sprung from the proudest, and the mightiest Monarchs,
but may be highly blest to be my servant?
Cas.
'Tis most true, mighty Lady.
Aur.
Has my fair usage
made you so much despise me and your fortune,
that ye grow weary of my entertainments?
Henceforward, as ye are, I will command ye,
and as you were ordain'd my prisoner,
my slave, and one I may dispose of any way,
no more my fair Companion: tell your King so:
and if he had more sisters, I would have 'em,
and use 'em as I please. You have your Answer.
Amb.
We must take some other way: force must compel it.
Exit.
Enter Maximinian.
Max.
Now if thou beest a Prophetesse, and canst do
things of that wonder that thy tongue delivers,
canst raise me too: I shall be bound to speak thee:
I half believe, confirm the other to me,
and Monuments to all succeeding Ages,
of thee, and of thy piety.—Now she eyes me.
Now work great power of Art: she moves unto me:
how sweet, how fair, and lovely her aspects are?
her eyes are like bright Ioan flames shot thorow me.
Aur.
O my fair friend, where have you been?
Max.
What am I?
what does she take me for? Work still, work strongly.
Aur.
Where have you fled, my loves and my embraces?
Max.
I am beyond my wits.
Aur.
Can one poor Thunder,
whose causes are as common as his noises,
make ye defer your lawful and free pleasures?
strike terrour to a Souldiers heart, a Monarchs?
Thorow all the fires of angry heaven, thorow tempests
that sing of nothing but destruction,
even underneath the bolt of Jove, then ready,
and aiming dreadfully, I would seek you,
and flie into your arms.
Max.
I shall be mighty,
and (which I never knew yet) I am goodly;
for certain, a most handsom man.
Cha.
Fie, sister,
what a forgetful weaknesse is this in ye?
what a light presence? these are words and offers
due onely to your husband Dioclesian;
this free behaviour onely his.
Aur.
'Tis strange
that onely empty Names compel Affections:
this man, ye see, give him what name or title,
let it be nere so poor, nere so despis'd (brother)
this lovely man.—
Max.
Though I be hang'd, I'll forward:
for (certain) I am excellent, and knew not.
Aur.
This rare and sweet young man, see how he looks, Sir,
Max.
I'll justle hard, dear Uncle.
Aur.
This Thing, I say,
let him be what he will, or bear what fortune,
this most unequall'd man, this spring of beauty
deserves the bed of Juno.
Cha.
You are not mad.
Max.
I hope she be; I am sure I am little better.
Aur.
O fair, sweet man!
Cha.
For shame refrain this impudence.
Max.
Would I had her alone, that I might seal this blessing:
sure, sure she should not beg: If this continue,
as I hope (heaven) it will; Uncle, I'll nick ye,
I'll nick ye, by this life. Some would fear killing
in the pursuit now of so rare a venture;
Enter Diocles.
I am covetous to die for such a Beauty.
Mine Uncle comes: now, if she stand, I am happie.
Cha.
Be right again, for honours sake.
Dio.
Fair Mistris—
Aur.
What man is this? Away. What sawcy fellow?
dare any such base groom presse to salute me?
Dio.
Have ye forgot me (Fair) or do you jest with me?
I'll tell ye what I am: come, 'pray ye look lovely.
Nothing but frowns and scorns?
Aur.
Who is this fellow?
Dio.
I'll tell ye who I am: I am your husband.
Aur.
Husband to me?
Dio.
To you. I am Dioclesian.
Max.
More of this sport, and I am made, old mother:
effect but this thou hast begun.
Dio.
I am he (Lady)
reveng'd your brothers death; slew cruel Aper:
I am he the Souldier courts, the Empire honours,
your Brother loves: am he (my lovely Mistris)
will make you Empresse of the world.
Max.
Still excellent:
Now I see too, mine Uncle may be cozen'd.
An Emperour may suffer like another.
Well said (old mother) hold but up this miracle.
Aur.
Thou lyest; thou art not he: thou a brave fellow?
Cha.
Is there no shame, no modestie in women?
Aur.
Thou one of high and full mark?
Dio.
Gods, what ails she?
Aur.
Generous and noble? Fie, thou lyest most basely.
Thy face, and all aspect upon thee, tells me
thou art a poor Dalmatian slave, a lowe thing
not worth the name of Romane: stand off farther.
Dio.
What may this mean?
Aur.
Come hither, my Endymion;
come, shew thy self, and all eyes be blessed in thee.
Dio.
Hah? what is this?
Aur.
Thou fair Star that I live by,
look lovely on me, break into full brightnesse:
Look, here's a face now, of another making,
another mold; here's a divine proportion,
eyes fit for Phœbus self, to gild the world with;
and there's a brow arch'd like the state of heaven;
look how it bends, and with what radience,
as if the Synod of the gods sate under:
look there, and wonder: now behold that fellow,
that admirable thing, cut with an ax out.
Max.
Old woman, though I cannot give thee recompence,
yet (certainly) I'll make thy name as glorious.
Dio.
Is this in truth?
Cha.
She is mad, and you must pardon her.
Dio.
She hangs upon him: see.
Cha.
Her fit is strong now:
be not you passionate.
Dio.
She kisses.
Cha.
Let her;
't is but the fondnesse of her fit.
Dio.
I am fool'd,
and if I suffer this.
Cha.
Pray ye (friend) be pacified,
this will be off anon: she goes in.
Exit Aurelia.
37
Sirha.
Max.
What say you, Sir?
Dio.
How dare thy lips, thy base lips?
Max.
I am your kinsman Sir, and no such base one:
I sought no kisses, nor I had no reason
to kick the Princesse from me: 't was no manners:
I never yet compell'd her: of her courtesie
what shee bestows Sir, I am thankfull for.
Dio.
Be gone villain.
Max.
I will, and I will go off with that glory,
and magnifie my fate.
Exit.
Dio.
Good brother leave me,
I am to my self a trouble now.
Char.
I am sorry for't.
You'll find it but a woman-fit to try ye.
Dio.
It may be so; I hope so.
Cha.
I am asham'd, and what I think I blush at.
Exit.
Dio.
What misery hath my great Fortune bred me?
and how far must I suffer? Poor and low States,
though they know wants and hungers, know not these,
know not these killing Fates: Little contents them,
and with that little they live, Kings commanding,
and ordering both their Ends and Loves. O Honour!
how geedily men seek thee, and once purchased,
how many enemies to mans peace bringst thou?
how many griefs and sorrows, that like sheers,
like fatall sheers, are sheering off our lives still?
how many sad ecclipses do we shine thorow?
Enter Delphia, Drusilla vail'd.
When I presum'd I was bless'd in this fair woman,
Del.
Behold him now, and tell me how thou likest him.
Dio.
When all my hopes were up, and Fortune dealt me
even for the greatest and the happiest Monarch,
then to be cozen'd, to be cheated basely?
by mine owne kinsman cross'd? O villain kinsman!
Curse of my blood; because a little younger,
a little smoother fac'd: O false, false woman,
false and forgetfull of thy faith: I'll kill him.
But can I kill her hate too? No: he wooes not,
nor worthie is of death, because she follows him,
because she courts him: Shall I kill an innocent?
O Diocles! would thou hadst never known this,
nor surfeited upon this sweet Ambition,
that now lies bitter at thy heart: O Fortune,
that thou hast none to fool and blow like bubbles,
but Kings, and their Contents!
Del.
What think ye now, Girl?
Dru.
Upon my life, I pity his misfortune.
See how he weeps; I cannot hold.
Del.
Away fool;
he must weep bloody tears before thou hast him.
How fare ye now, brave Dioclesian?
What? lazie in your loves? has too much pleasure
dull'd your most mighty faculties?
Dio.
Art thou there?
more to torment me? Dost thou come to mock me?
Del.
I doe: and I do laugh at all thy suffrings.
I that have wrought 'em come to scorn thy wailings:
I told thee once, This is thy fate, this woman,
and as thou usest her, so thou shalt prosper.
It is not in thy power to turn this destiny,
not stop the torrent of those miseries
(if thou neglect her still) shall fall upon thee.
Sigh that thou art dishonest, false of faith,
proud, and dost think no power can crosse thy pleasures;
thou wilt find a Fate above thee.
Dru.
Good Aunt speak mildly:
see how he looks and suffers.
Dio.
I find and feel, woman,
that I am miserable.
Del.
Thou art most miserable.
Dio.
That as I am the most, I am most miserable.
But didst thou work this?
Del.
Yes, and will pursue it.
Dio.
Stay there, and have some pity: fair Drusilla,
let me perswade thy mercy, thou hast lov'd mee,
although I know my suit will sound unjustly
to make thy love the means to lose it selfe,
have pity on me.
Dru.
I will do.
Del.
Peace Neece.
although this softnesse may become your love,
your care must scorn it. Let him still contemn thee,
And still I'll work: the same affection
he ever shews to thee, be it sweet or bitter,
the same Aurelia shall shew him; no further:
nor shall the wealth of all his Empire free this.
Dio.
I must speak fair. Lovely young maid, forgive me,
look gently on my sorrows: You that grieve too;
I see it in your eyes, and thus I meet it.
Dru.
O Aunt, I am bless'd.
Dio.
Be not both young and cruell,
again I beg it, thus.
Dru.
Thus, Sir, I grant it.
Enter Aurelia.
He's mine own now, Aunt.
Del.
Not yet (Girl) thou art cozen'd.
Aur.
O my deer Lord, how have I wrong'd your patience?
how wandred from the truth of my affections?
how (like a wanton fool) shun'd that I lov'd most?
but you are full of goodnesse to forgive, Sir,
as I of griefe to beg, and shame to take it:
sure I was not my self, some strange illusion,
or what you please to pardon.
Dio.
All, my Deerest;
all, my Delight; and with more pleasure take thee,
then if there had been no such dream: for certain,
it was no more.
Aur.
Now you have seal'd forgivenesse,
I take my leave; and the gods keep your goodnesse.
Exit.
Del.
You see how kindnesse prospers: be but so kind
to marry her, and see then what new fortunes,
new joyes, and pleasures; far beyond this Lady,
beyond her Greatnesse too.
Dio.
I'll die a dog first.
Now I am reconcil'd, I will enjoy her
in spight of all thy spirits, and thy witchcrafts.
Del.
Thou shalt not (fool).
Dio.
I will, old doating Divels;
and wert thou any thing but air and spirit,
my sword should tell thee.
Del.
I contemn thy threatnings,
and thou shalt know I hold a power above thee.
Wee must remove Aurelia: Come, farewell fool,
when thou shalt see me next, thou shalt bow to me.
Dio.
Look thou appear no more to crosse my pleasures.
Exeunt.
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