University of Virginia Library

Scæna secunda.

Enter Abdella with a Letter, and Rocca.
Ab.
Write thus to me? he hath fearfully, and basely
Betray'd his own cause; yet to free himselfe
He now ascribes the fault to me.

Roc.
I know not.
What he hath done: but what he now desires,
His Letters have inform'd you.

Ab.
Yes, he is
Too well acquainted with the power he holds,
Over my mad affections: I want time

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To write: but pray you tell him, if I were
No better steeld in my strong resolutions
Then he hath shown himselfe in his; or thought
There was a hell hereafter, or a Heaven,
But in enjoying him, I should stick here,
And move no further: bid him yet take comfort;
For something I will doe, the devill would quake at,
But Ile unty this nuptiall knot of love,
And make way for his wishes: in the mean time
Let him lie close, for he is strictly sought for,
And practise to love her, that for his ends
Scornes feare and danger.

Enter Oriana, and Velleda.
Roc.
All this I will tell him.
Exit Rocca.

Abd.
Do so: farewell. My Lady, with my fellow,
So earnest in discourse! what ere it be
Ile second it.

Vel.
He is such a Noble husband,
In every circumstance, so truely loving,
That I might say, and without flattery, Maddam
The Sun sees not a Lady but your selfe
That can deserve him.

Abd.
Of all men I say
That dare (for tis a desperate adventure)
Weare on their free necks the sweet yoak of woman,
(For they that do repine, are no true husbands)
Give me a Souldier.

Ori.
Why, are they more loving
Then other men?

Abd.
And love too with more judgement;
For, but observe, your Courtier is more curious
To set himselfe forth richly then his Lady;
His baths, perfumes, nay paintings too, more costly
Then his frugality wil allow to her,
His clothes as chargeable; and grant him but
A thing without a beard, and he may passe
At all times for a woman, and with some
Have better welcome: Now, your man of Lands
For the most part is carefull to manure them,
But leaves his Lady fallow; your great Merchant
Breakes oftner for the debt he ows his wife,
Then with his creditos; and that's the reason
She looks elsewhere for payment: Now your Souldier—

Vel.
I mary, do him right.

Abd.
First, who has one,
Has a perpetuall guard upon her honour;
For while he weares a Sword, slander her selfe
Dares not barke at it: next, she sits at home,
Like a great Queen, and sends him forth to fetch in
Her Tribute from all parts; which being brought home,
He layes it at her feet, and seeks no further
For his reward, then what she may give freely,
And with delight too, from her own Exchequer
Which he finds ever open.

Ori.
Be more modest.

Abd.
Why, we may speak of that we are glad to taste of,
Among our selves I mean.

Ori.
Thou talkst of nothing.

Abd.
Of nothing Madam? You have found it something;
Or with the raising up this pretty mount here,
My Lord hath dealt with spirits.

Enter Gomera.
Ori.
Two long houres absent?

Gom.
Thy pardon, Sweet: I have been looking on
The prize that was brought in by the brave Dane,
The valiant Norandine, and have brought something,
That may be thou wilt like of; but one kisse,
And then possesse my purchase: there's a piece
Of cloth of Tissew, this of purple Velvet,
And as they sweare of the right Tyrian dye,
Which others here but weakly counterfeit:
If they are worth thy use, weare them; if not,
Bestow them on thy women.

Abd.
Here's the husband.

Gom.
While there is any trading on the Sea
Thou shalt want nothing; tis a Souldiers glory,
How ever he neglect himselfe, to keep
His Mistris in full lustre.

Ori.
You exceed sir.

Gom.
Yet there was one part of the prize dispos'd of
Before I came, which I grieve that I miss'd of,
Being almost assured, it would have been
A welcome present.

Ori.
Pray you say, what was it?

Gom.
A Turkish Captive of incomparable beauty,
And without question, in her Countrey Noble;
Which as companion to thy faithfull Moore,
I would have given thee for thy slave.

Ori.
But was she
Of such an exquisite forme?

Gom.
Most equisite.

Ori.
And well descended?

Gom.
So the habit promis'd,
In which she was taken.

Ori.
Of what yeeres?

Gom.
Tis said
A Virgin of fourteen.

Ori.
I pity her,
And wish she were mine, that I might have the means
T'entertain her gently.

Gom.
She's now Miranda's,
And as I have heard, made it her suit to be so.

Ori.
Miranda's? then her fate deserves not pity,
But envy rather.

Gom.
Envy Oriana?

Ori.
Yes, and their envy that live free.

Gom.
How's this?

Ori.
Why, she is faln into the hands of one,
So full of that, which in men we stile goodnes,
That in her being his slave, she is happier far
Then if she were confirm'd the Sultans Mistris.

Gom.
Miranda is indeed a Gentleman
Of faire desert, and better hopes, but yet
He hath his equals.

Ori.
Where? I would go far,
As I am now, though much unfit for travailes,
But to see one that without injury
Might be put in the scale, or paralleld,
In any thing that's Noble, with Miranda;
His knowledge in all services of war,
And ready courage, to put into act
That knowing judgement, as you are a Souldier
You best may speak of. Nor can you deliver,
Nor I heare with delight, a better subject.
And heaven did well, in such a lovely feature
To place so chaste a mind; for he is of
So sweet a carriage, such a winning nature,
And such a bold, yet well dispos'd behaviour;
And to all these, h'as such a charming tongue,
That if he would serve under Loves fresh colours,
What monumentall Trophies might he raise,
Of his free conquests, made in Ladies favours?

Gom.
Yet you didst resist him, when he was
An earnest suitor to you.

Ori.
Yes I did;
And if I were again sought to, I should;
But must ascribe it rather to the fate
That did appoint me yours, then any power

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Which I can call mine own.

Gom.
Ev'n so?

Abd.
Thanks fortune,
The plot I had to raise in him, doubts of her,
Thou hast effected.

Ori.
I could tell you too,
What cause I have to love him, with what reason.
In thankfulnesse, he may expect from me,
All due observance; but I passe that, as
A benefit, for which in my behalfe
You are his debtor.

Abd.
I perceive it takes,
By his chang'd lookes.

Ori.
He is not in the City?
Is he my Lord?

Gom.
Who Lady?

Ori.
Why Miranda,
Having you here, can there be any else
Worth my enquiry?

Gom.
This is somewhat more.
Then love to vertue,

Ori:
Faith when he comes hither
(as sometimes, without question you shall meet him)
Invite him home.

Gom.
To what end?

Ori.
To dine with us,
Or sup.

Gom.
And then to take a hard bed with you:
Mean you not so?

Ori.
If you could win him to it,
'Twould be the better; for his entertainment,
Leave that to me, he shall finde Noble usage,
And from me a free welcome.

Gom.
Have you never
Heard of a Roman Lady (Oriana)
Remembred as a president for Matrons,
(Chaste ones, I pray you understand) whose husband
Tax'd for his sowre breath by his Enemy,
Condemn'd his wife, for not acquainting him
With his infirmity?

Ori.
Tis a common one;
Her answer was, having kis'd none but him,
She thought it was a generall disease
All men were subject to; but what infer you
From that my Lord?

Gom.
Why, that this vertuous Lady
Had all her thoughts so fix'd upon her Lord,
That she could finde no spare time to sing praises
Of any other; nor would she imploy
Her husband (though perhaps in debt to yeeres
As far as I am) for an instrument
To bring home younger men that might delight her
With their discourse, or—

Ori.
What my Lord?

Gom.
Their persons,
Or if I should speak plainer—

Ori.
No it needs not,
You have said enough to make my innocence know
It is suspected.

Gom.
You betray your selfe
To more then a suspition; could you else
To me that live in nothing but love to you
Make such a grosse discovery, that your lust
Had sold that heart I thought mine, to Miranda?
Or rise to such a height in impudence,
As to presume to worke my yeelding weaknesse
To play for your bad ends, to my disgrace
The Wittall, or the Pander?

Ori.
Doe not study
To print more wounds, (for that were tyranny)
Upon a heart that is pierced through already.

Gom.
Thy heart? thou hast pierc'd through mine honor false one,
The honour of my house, foole that I was,
To give it up to the deceiving trust
Of wicked woman: for thy sake, vild creature,
For all I have done well in, in my life,
I have dig'd a grave, all buried in a wife;
For thee I have defi'd my constant Mistris,
That never fail'd her servant, glorious war;
For thee, refus'd the fellowship of an Order
Which Princes through all dangers have been proud
To fetch as far as from Jerusalem:
And am I thus rewarded?

Vel.
By all goodnesse,
You wrong my Lady, and deserve her not,
When you are at your best: repent your rashnesse,
Twil show well in you.

Abd.
Do, and aske her pardon.

Ori.
No, I have liv'd too long, to have my faith
(My tri'd faith) call'd in question, and by him
That should know true affection is too tender
To suffer an unkind touch, without ruine;
Study ingratitude, all, from my example;
For to be thankfull now, is to be false.
But be it so, let me die, I see you wish it;
Yet dead for truth, and pities sake, report
What weapon you made choice of, when you kild me.

Vel.
She faints.

Abd.
What have ye done?

Ori.
My last breath cannot
Be better spent, then to say I forgive you;
Nor is my death untimely, since with me
I take along, what might have been hereafter
In scorn delivered for the doubtfull issue
Of a suspected mother.

Val.
Oh, she's gone.

Abd.
For ever gone. Are you a man?

Gom.
I grow here.

Abd.
Open her mouth, and powre this Cordiall in it;
If any spark of life be unquench'd in her,
This will recover her.

Vel.
Tis all in vain,
She's stiffe already: live I, and she dead?

Gom.
How like a murtherer I stand? look up,
And heare me curse my selfe, or but behold
The vengance I wilt take for't Oriana,
And then in peace forsake me: Jealousie,
Thou loathsome vomit of the fiends below,
What desperate hunger made me to receive thee
Into my heart, and soule? I let thee forth,
And so in death finde ease; and do's my fault then
Deserve no greater punishment? no, Ile live
To keep thee for a fury to torment me,
And make me know what hell is on the earth:
All joyes and hopes forsake me; all mens malice,
And all the plagues they can inflict, I wish it
Fall thick upon me: Let my teares be laught at,
And may my enemies smile to heare me groane;
And dead, may I be pitied of none.

Exeunt.