 | The Queene of Corinth |  |
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Theanor, Crates, and Erates, bringing Merione.Erat.
This is her Brothers Doore.
Cra.
There lay her downe then.
Lay her along: she is fast still.
Ser.
As forgetfulnesse.
Cra.
Be not you stirr'd now, but away to your Mother,
Give all attendance, let no staine appeare
Of feare, or doubt in your face: carry your selfe confidently.
The.
But whither runs your drift now?
Cra.
When she wakes,
Either what's done will shew a meere dreame to her,
And carry no more credit: or say she finde it,
Say she remember all the circumstances,
Twenty to one the shapes in which they were acted,
The horrours, and the still affrights we shew'd her,
Rising in wilder figures to her memory
Will run her mad, and no man ghesse the reason:
If all these faile, and that she rise up perfect,
And so collect her selfe, beleeve this Sir,
Not knowing who it was that did this to her,
Nor having any power to ghesse; the thing done too,
Being the utter undoing of her Honour
If it be knowne, and to the worlds eye publish'd,
Especially at this time when Fortune courts her,
She must and will conceale it; nay, forget it,
The woman is no Lucrece; get you gone Sir,
And as you would have more of this sport, feare not.
The.
I am confirm'd, farewell.
Cra.
Farewell, away Sir:
Disperse your selves, and as you love his favour,
And that that crowns it, Gold, no tongues amongst ye.
You know your charge, this way goes no suspition.
Exeu.
Enter Agenor and Leonides, with two Gent. with Lights.
Ag.
You are stirring early Sir.
Leo.
It was my duty
To wait upon your Grace.
Ag.
How fares your Sister,
My beauteous Mistris, what is she ready yet?
Leo.
No doubt she'l lose no time Sir, yong Maids in her way
Tread upon thornes, and think an houre an age
Till the Priest has done his part, that theirs may follow:
I saw her not since yesterday ith' evening:
But Sir, I am sure she is not slack; beleeve me,
Your grace will finde a loving soule.
Ag.
A sweet one,
And so much joy I carry in the thought of it,
So great a happinesse to know she is mine;
Beleeve me noble Brother, that to expresse it
Me thinkes a Tongue's a poore thing, can do nothing,
Imagination lesse: who's that that lies there?
Leo.
Where Sir?
Ag.
Before the doore, it lookes like a woman:
Leo.
This way I came abroad, but then there was nothing,
One of the Maids o're-watch'd belike.
Ag.
It may be.
Leo.
But me thinks this is no fit place to sleep in.
1 Gent.
'Tis sure a woman Sir, she has Jewels on too:
She feares no foule play sure.
Leo.
Bring a Torch hither,
Yet 'tis not perfect day: I should know those Garments.
Ag.
How sound she sleepes?
7
I am sorry to see this.
Ag.
Do you know her?
Leo.
And you now I am sure Sir.
Ag.
My Mistris, how comes this?
Enter Queen, Theanor, Beliza, Euphanes, Neanthes, attendants.
Leo.
The Queene and her traine?
Quee.
You know my pleasure.
Eup.
And will be most carefull.
Quee.
Be not long absent, the suit you preferr'd
Is granted.
Nea.
This fellow mounts apace, and will
Towre o're us like a Falcon.
Quee.
Good morrow to ye all, why stand ye wondring?
Enter the house Sir, and bring out your Mistris,
You must observe our Ceremonies: what's the matter?
What's that ye stand at? How Merione?
Asleep i'th street? belike some sudden Palsie
As she stept out last night upon devotion,
To tooke her farewell of her Virgin state,
The Ayre being sharp and piercing, struck her suddenly:
See if she breath.
Leo.
A little.
Quee.
Wake her then,
'Tis sure a fit.
Ag.
She wakes her selfe,
Give roome to her.
Quee.
See how the spirits struggle to recover,
And strongly re-inforce their strengths; for certaine
This was no naturall sleep.
The.
I am of your minde Madam.
Quee.
No Sonne, it cannot be.
The.
Pray Heaven no trick in't;
Good soule she little merits such a mischiefe.
Quee.
She is broad awake now, and her sence clears up,
'Twas sure a fit; stand off.
Mer.
The Queene, my Love here,
And all my noble friends? Why where am I?
How am I traunc'd, and moaped? i'th street? Heaven blesse me,
Shame to my Sex; o'th ground too? O, I remember—
Leo.
How wilde she lookes?
Ag.
Oh my cold heart, how she trembles?
Mer.
O I remember, I remember.
Quee.
What's that?
Mer.
My shame, my shame, my shame: O I remember
My never-dying shame.
The.
Here has been villainie.
Quee.
I feare so to.
Mer.
You are no Furies are ye?
No horrid shapes sent to affright me?
Ag.
No sweet,
We are your friends: looke up, I am Agenor,
O my Merione, that loves you dearely:
And come to marry ye.
Leo.
Sister, what ayle ye?
Speake out your griefes, and boldly—
Ag.
Something sticks here
Will choake ye else.
Mer.
I hope it will.
Quee.
Be free Lady,
You have your loving friends about ye.
Ag.
Deare Merione,
By the unspotted love I ever bore ye,
By thine owne goodnesse—
Mer.
O 'tis gone, 'tis gone Sir,
I am now I know not what: pray ye look not on me,
No name is left me, nothing to inherit
But that detested, base, and branded—
Ag.
Speake it,
And how; diseases of most danger
Their causes once discover'd are easily cur'd:
My faire Merione.
Mer.
I thanke your love Sir;
When I was faire Merione, unspotted,
Pure, and unblasted in the bud you honour'd,
White as the heart of truth, then Prince Agenor,
Even then I was not worthy of your favour;
Wretch that I am, lesse worthy now of pitty:
Let no good thing come neare me, vertue fly me;
You that have honest noble names despise me,
For I am nothing now but a maine pestilence
Able to poyson all. Send those unto me
That have forgot their names, ruin'd their fortunes,
Despis'd their honours; those that have been Virgins
Ravish'd and wrong'd, and yet dare live to tell it.
The.
Now it appeares too plaine.
Mer.
Send those sad people
That hate the light, and curse society;
Whose thoughts are Graves, and from whose eyes continually
Their melting soules drop out, send those to me;
And when their sorrowes are most excellent,
So full that one griefe more cannot be added,
My Story like a torrent shall devoure 'em.
Hark, it must out; but pray stand close together,
And let not all the world heare.
Leo.
Speake it boldly.
Mer.
And Royall Lady, think but charitably,
Your Grace has known my breeding.
Quee.
Prethee speake it.
Mer.
Is there no stranger here? send off your servants,
And yet it must be knowne: I shake.
Ag.
Sweet Mistris.
Mer.
I am abus'd, basely abus'd; do you ghesse yet?
Come close ile tell ye plainer; I am Whor'd,
Ravish'd, and robb'd of Honour.
Leo.
O the Divell.
Ag.
What hellish Slave was this?
The.
A wretch, a wretch,
A damned wretch: do you know the Villaine Lady?
Mer.
No.
The.
Not by ghesse?
Mer.
O no.
The.
It must be knowne.
Quee.
Where was the place?
Mer.
I know not neither.
Ag.
O Heaven,
Is this the happy time? my hope to this come?
Leo.
Neither the man, nor circumstances?
The.
His tongue,
Did you not heare his tongue, no voice?
Mer.
None, none Sir:
All I know of him was his violence.
Ag.
How came ye hither Sweet?
Mer.
I know not neither.
The.
A cunning piece of Villany.
Mer.
All I remember
Is onely this: Going to Vestas Temple
To give the Goddesse my last Virgin prayers,
Neere to that place I was suddenly surpris'd,
By five or sixe disguis'd, and from thence violently
To my dishonour hal'd: that Act perform'd,
Brought back, but how, or whether, till I wak'd here.—
The.
This is so monstrous the gods cannot suffer it;
I have not read in all the villanies
Committed by the most obdurate Rascalls,
An act so truly impious.
8
Would I knew him.
The.
He must be known, the Devill cannot hide him.
Quee.
If all the Art I have, or power can do it,
He shall be found, and such a way of justice
Inflicted on him: A Lady wrong'd in my Court,
And this way rob'd, and ruin'd?
The.
Be contented Madam,
If he be above ground I will have him.
Ag.
Faire vertuous Maid, take comfort yet and flourish,
In my love flourish: the staine was forc'd upon ye
None of your wills, nor yours; rise, and rise mine still,
And rise the same white, sweet, faire soule, I lov'd ye,
Take me the same.
Mer.
I kneele and thank ye Sir,
And I must say ye are truly honourable,
And dare confesse my will yet still a Virgin;
But so unfit and weak a Cabinet
To keep your love and vertue in am I now,
That have been forc'd and broken, lost my lustre,
I meane this body, so corrupt a Volume
For you to study goodnesse in, and honour,
I shall intreat your Grace, conferre that happinesse
Upon a beauty sorrow never saw yet:
And when this griefe shall kill me, as it must do,
Only remember yet ye had such a Mistris;
And if ye then dare shed a teare, yet honour me:
Good Gentlemen expresse your pitties to me,
In seeking out this villany; and my last suit
Is to your Grace, that I may have your favour
To live a poore recluse Nun with this Lady,
From Court and Company, till Heaven shall heare me,
And send me comfort, or death end my misery.
Que.
Take your own will, my very heart bleeds for thee.
Ag.
Farewell Merione, since I have not thee
Ile wed thy goodnesse, and thy memory.
Leo.
And I her faire revenge.
The.
Away: let's follow it,
For he is so rank i'th wind we cannot misse him.
Exeunt.
| The Queene of Corinth | |