 | The Knight of Malta |  |
Scena tertia.
Enter Mountferrat with a Letter, and Abdella.Abd.
Tis strange it should be so, that your high mettle
should check thus poorly: dully; most un-manly.
Mount.
Let me alone.
Abd.
Thus leadenly?
Mont.
—take ye.
Abd.
At every childish feare? at every shadow?
Are you Mountferrat, that have done such deeds?
Wrought through such bloody fields, men shake to speak of?
Can ye go back? is there a safety left yet
But fore-right? is not ruine round about ye?
Have ye not stil these armes, that Sword, that heart whol?
Is't not a man ye fight with, and an old man,
A man halfe kil'd already? Am not I here
As lovely in my blacke to entertaine thee,
As high, and full of heat, to meet thy pleasures?
Mount.
I wil be alone.
Abd.
Ye shall: farewell sir;
And doe it bravely, never think of conscience:
There is none to a man resolved be happy.
Exit.
Enter Miranda.
Mount.
No, most unhappy wretch, as thou hast made me
More devil then thy selfe, I am.
Mir.
Alone,
And troubled too, I take it: how he starts?
All is not hansome in thy heart Mountferrat.
God speed ye sir, I have been seeking of ye:
They say you are to fight to day.
Mount.
What then?
Mir.
Nay nothing but good fortune to your Sword, sir.
Ye have a cause requires it, the Islands safety,
The orders, and your honours.
Mount.
And do you make a question
I wil not fight it Nobly?
Mir.
Ye dare sight,
Ye have, and with as great a confidence as justice,
I have seen ye strike as home, and hit as deadly.
Mount.
Why are these questions then?
Mir.
Ile tell ye quickly.
Ye have a Lady in your cause, a faire one,
A gentler never trod on ground, a Nobler.
Mount.
Do ye come on so fast? I have it for ye.
Mir.
The Sunne nere saw a sweeter.
Mount.
These I grant ye:
Nor dare I against beauty heave my hand up,
It were unmanly, sir; too much unmanly:
But when these excellencies turn to ruine,
To ruine of themselves, and those protect 'em;
When vertue's lost lust, and dishonour enter'd,
Losse of our selves, and souls basely projected—
Mir.
Do you think tis so?
Mount.
Too sure.
Mir.
And can it be?
Can it be thought Mountferrat, so much sweetnes,
So great a magazine of all things precious,
A mind so heavenly made, prethee observe me.—
Mount.
I thought so to: now by my holy Order,
He that had told me, (till experience found it
Too bold a proof) this Lady had been vitious—
I weare no dull Sword sir, nor hate I vertue,
Mir.
Against her brother? to the man has bred her?
Her blood and honour?
Mount.
Where ambitious lust
Desires to be above the rule prescribed her,
Takes hold, and wins, poore chastity, cold duty,
Like fashions old forgot, she flings behind her,
And puts on blood and mischiefe, death, and ruine,
To raise her new built hopes, new faith to fasten her:
Ma' foy, she is as foule, as heaven is beauteous.
Mir.
Thou liest; thou liest Mountferrat: thou liest basely.
Stare not, nor swell not with thy pride: thou liest;
And this shall make it good.
Mount.
Out with your heat first,
Ye shall be fought withall.
Mir.
By—that Lady,
The vertue of that woman, were all the good deeds
Of all thy families bound in one fagot,
From Adam to this houre, but with one sparkle
Would fire that wispe, and turn it to light ashes.
Mount.
Oh pitifull young man, stroke blind with beauty!
Shot with a womans smile: poore, poore Miranda;
Thou hopeful young man once; but now thou lost man:
Thou naked man of all that we call Noble,
How art thou cozend? didst thou know what I do,
And how far thy deare honour (mark me foole)
Which like a father I have kept from blasting,
Thy tender honour is abus'd: but fight first,
And then, too late, thou shalt know all.
Mir.
Thou liest, stil.
Mount.
Stay, now Ile shew thee all, and then Ile kil thee.
I love thee so deere, time shall not disgrace thee.
Read that.
Mir.
It is her hand: it is most certaine;
Good Angels keep me: that I should be her agent
To betray Malta, and bring her to the Basha,
That on my tender love lay all her project!
Eyes, never see again, melt out for sorrow,
Did the divell do this?
Mount.
No, but his Dam did it,
The vertuous Lady that you love so deerly;
Come, wil ye fight again?
Mir.
No, prethee kill me:
For Heaven sake, and for goodnesse sake dispatch me,
For the disgrace sake that I gave thee, kill me.
Mount.
Why, are ye guilty?
Mir.
I have liv'd Mountferrat,
79
And now would dye: by heavens eternall brightnesse,
I am as cleere as Innocence.
Mount.
I knew it,
And therefore kept this Letter from all knowledge,
And this sword from anger, ye had died else.
And yet I lye, and basely lye.
Mir.
O vertue!
Unspotted vertue, whether art thou vanish'd?
What hast thou left to abuse our fraileties
In shape of goodnesse?
Mount.
Come, take courage, man,
I have forgiven, and forgot your rashnesse,
And hold you faire as light in all your actions,
And by my troth I griev'd your love; take comfort,
There be more women.
Mir.
And more mischiefe in 'em.
Mount.
The justice I shall doe, to right these villaines
Shall make ye man againe: i'le strike it sure Sir.
Come, looke up bravely: put this puling passion
Out of your minde; one knock for thee Miranda,
And for the Boy, the grave Gomera gave thee,
When she accepted thee her Champion;
And in thy absence, like a valiant Gentleman,
I yet remember it: he is too young,
Too Boyish, and to tender, to adventure:
I'le give him one sound rap for that: I love thee,
Thou art a brave young sparke.
Mir.
Boy did he call me?
Gomera call me Boy?
Mount.
It pleas'd his gravity,
To think so of ye then: they that doe service,
And honest service, such as thou, and I doe,
Are either knaves, or Boyes.
Mir.
Boy, by Gomera?
How look'd he when he said it? for Gomera
Was ever wont to be a vertuous Gentleman,
Humane, and sweet.
Mount.
Yes, when he will, he can be;
But let it goe, I would not breed dissention;
'Tis an unfriendly office, and had it been
To any of a higher straine then you Sir,
The well known, well approved, and lov'd Miranda,
I had not thought on't: 'twas happly, his haste too,
And zeale to her.
Mir.
A Traytor and a Boy too?
Shame take me if I suffer't: puff: farewell love.
Mount.
Ye know my businesse, I must leave ye Sir,
My houre grows on a pace.
Mir.
I must not leave you
I dare not, nor I will not, till your goodnesse
Have granted me one curtesie: ye say ye love me?
Mount.
I doe, and deerely: ask, and let that curtesie
Nothing concerne mine honour,
Mir.
You must doe it.
Or you will never see me more:
Mount.
What is it?
It shall be great that puts ye of; pray speake it.
Mir.
Pray let me fight to day: good, deere Mountferrat,
Let me, and bold Gomera—
Mount.
Fie Miranda,
Doe ye weigh my worth so little?
Mir.
On my knees,
As ever thou had'st true touch of a sorrow
Thy friend conceiv'd, as ever honour lov'd thee.
Mount.
Shall I turne recreant now?
Mir.
'Tis not thy cause,
Thou hast no reputation wounded in't,
Thines but a generall zeale: 'death: I am tainted,
The deerest twyn to life, my credit's murder'd,
Baffell'd, and boy'd,
Mount.
I am glad ye have swallow'd it,
I must confesse I pitty ye; and 'tis a justice,
A great one too, you should revenge these injuries:
I know it, and I know ye fit and bold to doe it,
And man, as much as man may: but Miranda,
Why doe ye kneel?
Mir.
By—I'le grow to the ground here,
And with my sword digge up my grave, and fall in't
Unlesse thou grant me: deere Mountferrat, friend,
Is any thing in my power, to my life, Sir?
The honour shall be yours.
Mount.
I love ye deerely,
Yet so much I should tender.
Mir.
I'le preserve all:
By—I will: or all the sinne fall with me,
Pray let me.
Mount.
Ye have won: i'le once be coward
To pleasure you.
Mir.
I kisse your hands, and thanke ye.
Mount.
Be tender of my credit, and fight bravely.
Mir.
Blow not the sire that flames.
Mount.
I'le send mine Armor,
My man shall presently attend ye with it,
For you must arme immediately, the houre cals,
I know 'twill sit ye right; be sure, and secret,
And last be fortunate; farewell: ye are fitted:
I am glad the load's off me.
Mir.
My best Mountferrat.
Exeunt.
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