 | The Broken Heart |  |
Actus Quartus
Scæna prima.
Enter Ithocles and Armostes.Itho.
Forbeare your Inquisition; curiosity
Is of too subtill, and too searching nature:
In feares of loue too quicke; too slow of credit:
I am not what you doubt me.
Arm.
Nephew, be then
As I would wish;—all is not right,—Good heauen.
Confirme your Resolutions for dependance
On worthy end which may aduance your quiet.
Ith.
I did the Noble Orgilus much iniury,
But grieu'd Penthea more: I now repent it;
Now, Vncle, now; this New, is now too late:
So prouident is folly in sad issue;
That after-wit, like Bankrupts debts, stand tallyed
Without all possibilities of payment:
Sure he's an honest, very honest Gentleman;
A man of single meaning.
Arm.
I beleeue it:
Yet Nephew, 'tis the tongue informes our eares;
Our eyes can neuer pierce into the thoughts,
For they are lodg'd too inward:—but I question
No truth in Orgilus.—The Princesse (Sir)
Ith.
The Princesse? ha?
Arm.
With her the Prince of Argos.
Enter Nearchus leading Calantha, Amelus, Christalla, Philema.
Near.
Great (faire one) grace my hopes with any instance
Of Liuery, from the allowance of your fauour,
This little sparke.
Cal.
A Toy,
Near.
Loue feasts on Toyes,
It cannot beny'd.
Calan.
You shall not value
(Sweet Cozen) at a price what I count cheape,
So cheape, that let him take it who dares stoope for't,
And giue it at next meeting to a Mistresse,
Shee'le thanke him for't, perhaps.
Casts it to Ithocles.
Ame.
The Ring, Sir, is
The Princesses, I could haue tooke it vp.
Ith.
Learne manners, prethe.—To the blessed owner
Vpon my knees.
Near.
Y'are sawcy.
Cal.
This is pretty,
I am, belike, a Mistresse.—wondrous pretty:
Let the man keepe his fortune, since he found it;
He's worthy on't.—On Cozen.
Ith.
Follow Spaniell,
I'le force 'ee to a fawning else.
Ame.
You dare not.
Exeunt. Maneut Itho. & Armost.
Arm.
My Lord, you were too forward.
Ith.
Looke 'ee Vncle:
Some such there are whose liberall contents
Swarme without care in euery sort of plenty;
Who, after full repasts, can lay them downe
To sleepe; and they sleepe, Vncle: in which silence
Their very dreames present 'em choyce of pleasures:
Pleasures (obserue me Vncle) of rare obiect:
Here heaps of gold, there Increments of honors;
Now change of garments, then the votes of people;
Anon varieties of beauties, courting
In flatteries of the night, exchange of dalliance,
Yet these are still but dreames: giue me felicity
Of which my senses waking are partakers;
A reall, visible, materiall happinesse:
And then too, when I stagger in expectance
Of the least comfort that can cherish life:
I saw it (Sir) I saw it; for it came
From her owne hand.
Arm.
The Princesse threw it t'ee.
Itho.
True, and she said—well I remember what.
Her Cozen Prince would beg it.
Arm.
Yes, and parted
In anger at your taking on't.
Ith.
Penthea!
Oh thou hast pleaded with a powerfull language!.
But I will doe—
Arm.
What is't you say?
Itho.
In anger,
In anger let him part; for could his breath,
Like whirlewinds, tosse such seruile slaues as licke
The dust his footsteps print, into a vapour,
It durst not stirre a haire of mine; It should not,
I'de rend it vp by th' roots first. To be any thing
Calantha smiles on, is to be a blessing
More sacred than a petty-Prince of Argos
Can wish to equall, or in worth or Title.
Arm.
Containe your selfe, my Lord, Ixion ayming
To embrace Iuno, bosom'd but a cloud,
And begat Centaures: 'tis an vsefull morall,
Ambition hatch'd in clouds of meere opinion,
Proues but in birth a prodigie.
Itho.
I thanke 'ee;
Yet, with your Licence, I should seeme vncharitable
To gentler Fate, if rellishing the dainties
Of a soules setled peace, I were so feeble
Not to digest it.
Arm.
He deserues small trust
Who is not priuy Counsellor to himselfe.
Enter Nearchus, Orgilus, and Amelus.
Near.
Braue me?
Org.
Your Excellence mistakes his temper.
For Ithocles in fashion of his mind
Is beautifull, soft, gentle, the cleare mirror
Of absolute perfection.
Amel.
Was't your modesty
Term'd any of the Prince, his seruants Spaniell?
Your Nurse sure taught you other language.
Itho.
Language.
Near.
A gallant Man at armes is here: a Doctor
In feats of Chiualry; blunt, and rough spoken,
Vouchsafing not the fustian of ciuility,
Which rash spirits stile good manners.
Ith.
Manners.
Org.
No more (Illustrious Sir) 'tis matchlesse Ithocles.
Near.
You might haue vnderstood who I am.
Ith.
Yes,
I did—else—but the presence calm'd th' affront;
Y' are Cozen to the Princesse.
Near.
To the King too;
A certaine Instrument that lent supportance
To your Collossicke greatnesse:—to that King too
Itho.
There is more diuinity
In beauty then in Maiesty.
Arm.
O fie, fie.
Near.
This odde youths pride turnes hereticke in loyalty.
Sirrah! low Mushroms neuer riuall Cedars.
Exeunt Nearchus & Amelus.
Itho.
Come backe: what pittifull dull thing am I.
So to be tamely scoulded at? Come backe;
Let him come backe and eccho once againe
That scornefull sound of Mushrome; painted colts,
Like Heralds coats, guilt o're with Crownes and Scepters,
May bait a musled Lion.
Arm.
Cozen, Coxen,
Thy tongue is not thy friend.
Org.
In point of honour
Discretion knowes no bounds. Amelus told me
'Twas all about a little Ring.
Itho.
A Ring
The Princesse threw away, and I tooke vp:
Admit she threw't to me; what arme of brasse
Can snatch it hence? No, could a' grind the hoope
To powder, a' might sooner reach my heart
Then steale and weare one dost on't.—Orgilus,
I am extreamely wrong'd.
Org.
A Ladies fauour
Is not to be so slighted.
Itho.
Slighted.
Arm.
Quiet
These vaine vnruly passions, which will render ye
Into a madnesse.
Org.
Griefes will haue their vent.
Enter Tecnicus.
Arm.
Welcome; thou com'st in season (reuereud man)
To powre the balsome of a supplying patience
Into the festering wound of ill-spent fury.
Org.
What makes He here?
Tecn.
The hurts are yet but mortall,
Which shortly will proue deadly: To the King,
Armostes, see in safety thou deliuer
This seal'd vp counsaile; bid him with a constancy
Peruse the secrets of the gods:—ô Sparta,
O Lacedemon I double nam'd, but one
In fate: when Kingdomes reele (marke well my Saw)
Their heads must needs be giddy: tell the King
That henceforth he no more must enquire after
My aged head: Apollo wils it so;
Arm.
Not without some conference
With our great master.
Tecn.
Neuer more to see him,
A greater Prince commands me.—Ithocles,
When youth is ripe, and Age from time doth part,
The liuelesse Trunke shall wed the Broken Heart.
Ith.
What's this, if vnderstood?
Tecn.
List Orgilus,
Remember what I told thee long before,
These teares shall be my witnesse.
Arm.
'Las good man.
Tecn.
Let craft with curtesie a while conferre,
Reuenge proues its owne Executioner.
Org.
Darke sentences are for Apollo's Priests:
I am not Oedipus.
Tecn.
My howre is come;
Cheare vp the King: farewell to all.—O Sparta,
O Lacedemon.
Arm.
If propheticke fire
Exit. Tecn.
Haue warm'd this old mans bosome, we might construe
His words to fatall sense.
Ith.
Leaue to the powers
Aboue vs, the effects of their decrees;
My burthen lyes within me. Seruile feares
Preuent no great effects.—Diuine Calantha.
Arm.
The gods be still propitious.—
Exeunt, manet Org.
Org.
Something oddly
The booke-man prated; yet a' talk'd it weeping;
Let craft with curtesie a while conferre,
Reuenge proues its owne executioner.
Conne it againe; for what? It shall not puzzle me;
'Tis dotage of a withered braine.—Penthea
Forbad me not her presence; I may see her,
And gaze my fill: why see her then I may;
When if I faint to speake, I must be silent.
Exit Org.
Enter Bassanes, Gransis, and Phulas.
Bass.
Pray vse your Recreations, all the seruice
I will expect, is quietnesse amongst 'ee:
Take liberty at home, abroad, at all times,
And in your charities appease the gods
Whom I with my distractions haue offended.
Grans.
Faire blessings on thy heart.
Phul.
Here's a rare change:
My Lord, to cure the itch, is surely gelded;
Bass.
Betake 'ee to your seuerall occasions,
And wherein I haue heretofore beene faulty,
Let your constructions mildly passe it ouer,
Henceforth I'le study reformation,—more,
I haue not for employment.
Gran.
O sweet man!
Thou art the very hony-combe of honesty.
Phul.
The garland of good-will;—Old Lady, hold vp
Thy reuerend snout, and trot behind me softly,
As it becomes a Moile of ancient carriage.
Exeunt, manet Bass.
Bass.
Beasts onely capable of sense, enioy
The benefit of food and ease with thankfulnesse;
Such silly creatures, with a grudging, kicke not
Against the portion Nature hath bestow'd;
But men endow'd with reason, and the vse
Of reason, to distinguish from the chaffe
Of abiect scarscity, the Quintescence,
Soule, and Elixar of the Earths abundance,
The treasures of the Sea, the Ayre, nay heauen
Repining at these glories of creation,
Are verier beasts than beasts; and of those beasts
The worst am I; I, who was made a Monarch
Of what a heart could wish, for a chast wife,
Endeuour'd what in me lay, to pull downe
That Temple built for adoration onely,
And leuel't in the dust of causelesse scandall:
But to redeeme a sacrilege so impious,
Humility shall powre before the deities:
I haue incenst a largenesse of more patience
Then their displeased Altars can require:
No tempests of commotion shall disquiet
The calmes of my composure.
Enter Orgilus.
Org.
I haue found thee,
Thou patron of more horrors then the bulke
Of manhood, hoop'd about with ribs of Iron,
Can cramb within thy brest: Penthea (Bassanes)
Is left a prey to words.
Bass.
Exercise
Your trials for addition to my pennance,
I am resolu'd.
Org.
Play not with misery
Past cure. some angry Minister of Fate hath
Depos'd the Empresse of her soule, her reason,
From its most proper Throne; but what's the miracle
More new, I, I haue seene it, and yet liue.
Bass.
You may delude my senses, not my iudgement:
'Tis anchor'd into a firme resolution,
Dalliance of Mirth or Wit can ne're vnfixe it.
Practise yet further.
Org.
May thy death of loue to her
Damne all thy comforts to a lasting fast
From euery ioy of life: Thou barren rocke,
By thee we haue bee split in ken of harbour.
Enter Ithocles, Penthea her haire about her eares, Philema, Christalla.
Ith.
Sister looke vp, your Ithocles, your brother
Speakes t'ee: why doe you weepe? Deere, turne not from me:
Here is a killing sight: lo, Bassanes,
A lamentable obiect.
Org.
Man, dost see't?
Sports are more gamesome; am I yet in merriment?
Why dost not laugh?
Bass.
Diuine, and best of Ladies,
Please to forget my out-rage? mercy euer
Cannot but lodge vnder a root so excellent:
I haue cast off that cruelty of frenzy
Which once appear'd, Impostors, and then iugled
To cheat my sleeps of rest.
Org.
Was I in earnest?
Pen.
Sure if we were all Sirens, we should sing pittifully;
And 'twere a comely musicke, when in parts
One sung anothers knell: the Turtle sighes
When he hath lost his mate; and yet some say
A' must be dead first: 'tis a fine deceit
To passe away in a dreame: indeed I'ue slept
With mine eyes open a great while. No falshood
Equals a broken faith; there's not a haire
Sticks on my head but like a leader Plummet,
The iourny is not long.
Ith.
But thou, Penthea,
Hast many yeeres, I hope, to number yet
E're thou canst trauell that way.
Bass.
Let the Swan first
Be wrap'd vp in an euerlasting darknesse,
Before the light of nature, chiefly form'd
For the whole worlds delight, feele an Ecclipse
So vniuersall.
Org.
Wisdome (looke 'ee)
Begins to raue:—art thou mad too, antiquity?
Pen.
Since I was first a wife, I might haue beene
Mother to many pretty pratling Babes:
They would haue smil'd when I smil'd; and, for certaine,
I should haue cry'd when they cry'd;—truly brother,
My father would haue pick'd me out a husband,
And then my little ones had beene no bastards:
But 'tis too late for me to marry now,
I am past child-bearing; 'tis not my fault.
Bass.
Fall on me, if there be a burning Etna,
And bury me in flames; sweats hot as sulphure,
Boyle through my pores: affliction hath in store
No torture like to this.
Org.
Behold a patience:
Lay by thy whyning gray dissimulation,
Doe something worth a Chronicle; shew Iustice
Vpon the Author of this mischiefe; dig out
The Iealousies that hatch'd this thraldome first
With thine owne ponyard: euery anticke rapture
Can roare as thine does.
Ith.
Orgilus Forbeare.
Bass.
Disturbe him not, it is a talking motion
Prouided for my torment: what a foole am I
To bawdy passion? e're I'le speake a word
I will looke on and burst.
Pen.
I lou'd you once.
Org.
Thou didst, wrong'd creature, in despite of malice;
For it I loue thee euer.
Pen.
Spare your hand,
Beleeue me, I'le not hurt it.
Org.
Paine my heart to
Complaine not though I wring it hard: I'le kisse it;
O 'tis a fine soft palme: harke in thine eare,
Like whom doe I looke, prethe? nay, no whispering.
Will make folke proud they say—but that is he;
points at Ithocles.
And yet he paid for't home; alas, his heart
Is crept into the cabinet of the Princesse;
We shall haue points and bridelaces. Remember
When we last gather'd Roses in the garden
I found my wits, but truly you lost yours:
That's He, and still 'tis He.
Ith.
Poore soule, how idely
Her fancies guide her tongue.
Bass.
Keepe in vexation,
And breake not into clamour.
Org.
She has tutor'd me:
Some powerfull inspiration checks my lazinesse:
Now let me kisse your hand, grieu'd beauty.
Pen.
Kisse it.
Alacke, alacke, his lips be wondrous cold;
Deare soule, h'as lost his colour: haue 'ee seene
A straying heart? all crannies, euery drop
Of blood is turn'd to an Amethist,
Which married Bachelours hang in their eares.
Org.
Peace vsher her into Elizium:
If this be madnesse, madnesse is an Oracle.
Exit Org.
Ith.
Christalla, Philema, when slept my sister,
Her rauings are so wild.
Chri.
Sir, not these ten dayes.
Phil.
We watch by her continually; besides,
We cannot any way pray her to eat.
Bass.
Oh—misery of miseries!
Pen.
Take comfort,
You may liue well, and dye a good old man:
By yea and nay, an oath not to be broken,
If you had ioyn'd our hands once in the Temple,
'Twas since my father dy'd, for had he liu'd
He would haue don't: I must haue call'd you father:
Oh my wrack'd honour ruin'd by those Tyrants,
A cruell brother, and a desperate dotage!
There is no peace left for a rauish'd wife
Widdow'd by lawlesse marriage; to all memory,
Penthea's, poore Penthea's name is strumpeted:
But since her blood was season'd by the forfeit
Of noble shame, with mixtures of pollution,
Her blood ('tis iust) he henceforth neuer heightned
Whose plurisie hath seuer'd faith and modesty,
Forgiue me: ô I faint.
Arm.
Be not so wilfull,
Sweet Neece, to worke thine owne destruction.
Ith.
Nature
Will call her daughter, monster—what! not eat?
Refuse the onely ordinary meanes
Which are ordain'd for life? be not, my sister,
A murthresse to thy selfe.—Hear'st thou this, Bassanes?
Bass.
Fo, I am busie; for I haue not thoughts
Enow to thinke all shall be well anon,
'Tis tumbling in my head: there is a mastery
In Art to fatten and keepe smooth the outside;
Yes, and to comfort vp the vitall spirits
Without the helpe of food, fumes or perfumes,
Perfumes or fumes: let her alone, I'le search out
The tricke on't.
Pen.
Lead me gently; heauens reward ye:
Griefes are sure friends; they leaue (without controule)
Nor cure nor comforts for a leprous soule.
Exeunt the maids supporting Penthea
Bass.
I grant t'ee; and will put in practice instantly
What you shall still admire: 'tis wonderfull,
'Tis super singular, not to be match'd:
Yet when I'ue don't, I'ue don't; ye shall all thanke mee.
Exit Bassanes.
Arm.
The fight is full of terror.
Ith.
On my soule
Lyes such an infinite clogge of massie dulnesse,
As that I haue not sense enough to feele it.
See, Vncle, th'augury thing returnes againe,
Shall's welcome him with Thunder? we are haunted,
And must vse exorcisme to coniure downe
This spirit of maleuolence.
Arm.
Mildly, Nephew.
Enter Nearchus and Amelus.
Near.
I come not, Sir, to chide your late disorder;
Admitting that th'inurement to a roughnesse
In Souldiers of your yeares and fortunes, chiefly
So lately prosperous, hath not yet shooke off
Nor shall you need excuse, since y'are to render
Account to that faire Excellence, the Princesse,
Who in her priuate Gallery expects it
From your owne mouth alone: I am a messenger
But to her pleasure.
Ith.
Excellent Nearchus,
Be Prince still of my seruices, and conquer,
Without the combat of dispute; I honour 'ee.
Near.
The King is on a sudden indispos'd,
Physicians are call'd for; 'twere fit, Armostes,
You should be neere him.
Arm.
Sir, I kisse your hands.
Exeunt. Manent Nearchus & Amelus.
Near.
Amelus, I perceiue Calantha's bosome
Is warm'd with other fires then such as can
Take strength from any fuell of the loue
I might addresse to her: young Ithocles,
Or euer I mistake, is Lord ascendant
Of her deuotions; one, to speake him truly,
In euery disposition nobly fashioned,
Ame.
But can your Highnesse brooke to be so riual'd;
Considering th'inequality of the persons?
Near.
I can, Amelus; for affections iniur'd
By tyrannie, or rigour of compulsion,
Like Tempest-threatned Trees vnfirmely rooted,
Ne're spring to timely growth: obserue, for instance,
Life-spent Penthea, and vnhappy Orgilus.
Ame.
How does your grace determine?
Near.
To be iealous
In publike, of what priuately I'le further;
And though they shall not know, yet they shall finde it.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Hemophil and Groneas leading Amyclas, and placing him in a Chayre, followed by Armostes, Crotolon, and Prophilus.
Amy.
Our daughter is not neere?
Arm.
She is retired, Sir,
Into her gallery.
Amy.
Where's the Prince our Cozen?
Proph.
New walk'd into the Groue (my Lord.)
Amy.
All leave vs,
Except Armostes, and you Crotolon;
Proph.
Health vnto your Maiesty.
Exeunt Prophilus, Hemophil, & Groneas.
Amy.
What, Tecnicus is gone?
Arm.
He is to Delphos;
And to your Royall hands presents this box.
Amy.
Vnseale it, good Armostes, therein lyes
The secrets of the Oracle; out with it;
Apollo liue our patron: read, Armostes.
Arm.
The plot in which the Vine takes root,
Begins to dry, from head to foot,
The stocke soone withering, want of sap
Doth cause to quaile the budding grape:
But from the neighboring Elme, a dew
Shall drop and feed the Plot anew.
Amy.
That is the Oracle, what exposition
Makes the Philosopher?
Arm.
This briefe one, onely:
The plot is Sparta, the dry' a Uine the King;
The quailing grape his daughter; but the thing
Of most importance, not to be reueal'd,
Is a neere Prince, the Elme; the rest conceal'd.
Tecnicus.
Amy.
Enough; although the opening of this Riddle
Be but it selfe a Riddle, yet we construe
How neere' our lab'ring age drawes to a reste
But must Calantha quaile to that young grape
Vntimely budded! I could mourne for her,
Her tendernesse hath yet deseru'd no rigor
So to be crost by Fate.
Arm.
You misapply, Sir;
With fauour let me speake it what Apollo
Hath clouded in hid sense: I here coniecture
Her marriage with some neighb'ring Prince, the dew
Of which befriending Elme shall euer strengthen
Your Subiects with a Soueraignty of power.
Crot.
Besides, most gracious Lord, the pith of Oracles
Is to be then digested, when th'euents
Expound their truth, nor brought I ssome to light
As vtter'd; Truth is Child of Time, and herein
I finde no scruple, rather cause of comfort,
Amy.
May it proue so.
For weale of this deare Nation.—where is Ithocles?
Armostes, Crotolon; when this wither'd Vine
Of my fraile carkasse, on the funerall Pile,
Is fir'd into its ashes, let that young man
Be hedg'd about still with your cares and loues;
Much owe I to his worth, much to his seruice.
Let such as wait come in now.
Arm.
All attend here.
Enter Ithocles, Calantha, Prophilus, Orgilus, Euphranea, Hemophil, and Groneas.
Cal.
Deare Sir, King, Father!
Ith.
O my royall Master!
Amy.
Cleaue not my heart (sweet Twins of my life's solace)
With your fore-iudging feares: there is no Physicke
So cunningly restoratiue to cherish
The fall of Age, or call backe youth and vigor,
As your consents in duty: I will shake off
This languishing disease of time, to quicken
Fresh pleasures in these drooping houres of sadnesse:
Is faire Euphranea married yet to Prophilus?
Crot.
This morning, gracious Lord.
Org.
This very morning.
Which with your Highnesse leaue you may obserue too
Our sister lookes (me thinks) mirthfull and sprightly;
As if her chaster fancy could already
Expound the riddle of her gaine in losing
A trifle; Maids know onely that they know not:
Pish, prethe blush not; 'tis but honest change
Of fashion in the garment, loose for freight,
And so the modest maid is made a wife:
Shrewd businesse, is't not sister?
Euph.
You are pleasant.
Amy.
We thanke thee, Orgilus, this mirth becomes thee:
But wherefore sits the Court in such a silence?
A wedding without Reuels is not seemely.
Cal.
Your late indisposition, Sir, forbade it.
Amy.
Be it thy charge, Calantha, to set forward
The bridall sports, to which I will be present:
If not, at least consenting: mine owne Ithocles,
I haue done little foe thee yet.
Ith.
Y'haue built me
Cal.
Now or neuer
May I propose a suit.
Amy.
Demand and haue it.
Cal.
Pray Sir giue me this young man, and no further
Account him yours, then he deserues in all things
To be thought worthy mine; I will esteeme him
According to his merit.
Amy.
Still th'art my daughter,
Still grow'st vpon my heart; giue me thine hand;
Calantha take thine owne; in noble actions
Thou'lt find him firme and absolute: I would not
Haue parted with thee, Ithocles, to any
But to a mistresse who is all what I am.
Ith.
A change (great King) most wisht for, cause the sam.—
Cal.
Th'art mine.—Haue I now kept my word.
Ith.
Diuinely.
Org.
Rich fortuness guard to fauour of a Princesse,
Rocke thee (braue man) in euer crowned plenty;
Y'are minion of the time, be thankfull for it:
Ho, here's a swinge in Destiny.—Apparent,
The youth is vp on tiptoe, yet may stumble.
Amy.
On to your recreations; now conuey me
Vnto my bed-chamber: none on his forehead
Were a distempered looke.
Omnet.
The gods preserue 'ee.
Cal.
Sweet be not from my sight.
Ith.
My whole felicity.
Exeunt carrying out of the King, Orgilus stayes Ithocles.
Org.
Shall I be bold my Lord?
Ith.
Thou canst not, Orgilus;
Call me thine owne, for Prophilus must henceforth
Be all thy sisters; friendship, though it cease not
In marriage, yet is oft at lesse command
Then when a single freedome can dispose it.
Org.
Most right, my most good Lord, my most great Lord,
My gracious Princely Lord, I might adde royall.
Ith.
Royall, a Subiect royall?
Org.
Why not, pray Sir?
The Soueraignty of Kingdomes in their nonage
Stoop'd to desert, not birth: there's as much merit
In clearenesse of affection, as in puddle
Of generation: you haue conquer'd Loue
Euen in the loueliest; if I greatly erre not,
The sonne of Venus hath bequeath'd his quiuer
Calantha's brest is open'd.
Ith.
Can't be possible?
Org.
I was my selfe a peece of suitor once,
And forward in preferment too; so forward,
That speaking truth, I may without offence (Sir)
Presume to whisper, that my hopes, and (harke 'ee)
My certainty of marriage stood assured
With as firme footing (by your leaue) as any's
Now at this very instant—but.—
Ith.
'Tis granted:
And for a league of priuacy betweene vs,
Read o're my bosome, and pertake a secret;
The Princesse is contracted mine.
Org.
Still: why not?
I now applaud her wisdome; when your kingdome
Stands seated in your will secure, and setled,
I dare pronounce you will be a iust Monarch:
Greece must admire, and tremble.
Ith.
Then the sweetnesse
Of so imparadis'd a comfort, Orgilus,
It is to banquet with the gods.
Org.
The glory
Of numerous children, potency of Nobles,
Bent knees, hearts pau'd to tread on.
Ith.
With a friendshi
So deare, so fast as thine.
Org.
I am vnfitting
For Office, but for seruice.
Ith.
Wee'll distinguish
Our fortunes meerely in the Title; partners
In all respects else but the bed.
Org.
The bed?
Foresend it Ioues owne Iealousie, till lastly
We slip downe in the common earth together;
And there our beds are equall, saue some Monument
To shew this was the King, and this the Subiect.
List, what sad sounds are these? extremely sad ones.
Ith.
Sure from Penthea's lodgings.
Org.
Harke, a voyce too.
Soft sad musicke. A Song.
Oh no more, no more, too late
Sighes are spent; the burning Tapers
Of a life as chast as Fate,
Pure as are vnwritten papers,
Are burnt out: no heat, no light
Now remaines, 'tis euer night.
Loue is dead, let louers eyes,
Lock'd in endlesse dreames,
Th'extremes of all extremes,
Ope no more, for now Loue dyes,
Now Loue dyes, implying
Loues Martyrs must be euer, euer dying.
Ith.
Oh my misgiuing heart!
Org.
A horrid stilnesse
Succeeds this deathfull ayre, let's know the reason:
Tread softly, there is mystery in mourning.
Exeunt.
Enter Christalla and Philema, bringing in Penthea in a chaire vaild: two other seruants placing two chaires, one on the one side, and the other with an Engine on the other; the maids sit downe at her feet mourning, the seruants goe out, meet them Ithocles and Orgilus.
Seru.
'Tis done, that on her right hand.
Org.
Good, begone.
Ith.
Soft peace inrich this roome.
Org.
How fares the Lady?
Phil.
Dead.
Chri.
Dead!
Phil.
Staru'd.
Chri.
Staru'd!
Ith.
Me miserable!
Org.
Tell vs
How parted she from life?
Phil.
She call'd for musicke,
And begg'd some gentle voyce to tune a farewell
To life and griefes: Christalla touch'd the Lute,
I wept the funerall song.
Chri.
Which scarce was ended,
But her last breath seal'd vp these hollow sounds,
O cruell Ithocles, and iniur'd Orgilus!
So downe she drew her vaile, so dy'd.
Ith.
So dy'd:
Org.
Vp; you are messengers of death, goe from vs;
Here's woe enough to court without a prompter.
No sillable that she is dead.—Away,
Exeunt Phil. & Chris.
Keepe a smooth brow.—My Lord.
Ith.
Mine onely sister,
Another is not left me.
Org.
Take that chayre,
I'le seat me here in this: betweene vs sits
The obiect of our sorrowes; some few teares
Wee'll part among vs; I perhaps can mixe
One lamentable story to prepare 'em.
There, there, sit there, my Lord.
Ith.
Yes, as you please.
Ithocles sits downe, and is catcht in the Engine.
What meanes this treachery?
Org.
Caught, you are caught
Young master: 'tis thy throne of Coronation,
Thou foole of greatnesse: see, I take this vaile off;
Suruey a beauty wither'd by the flames
Of an insulting Phaeton her brother.
Ith.
Thou mean'st to kill me basely.
Org.
I foreknew
The last act of her life, and train'd thee hither
To sacrifice a Tyrant to a Turtle.
You dream't of kingdomes, did 'ee? how to bosome
The delicacies of a youngling Princesse,
How with this nod to grace that subtill Courtier,
How with that frowne to make this Noble tremble,
And so forth; whiles Penthea's grones, and tortures,
Her agonies, her miseries, afflictions,
Ne're toucht vpon your thought; as for my iniuries,
Alas they were beneath your royall pitty,
But yet they liu'd, thou proud man, to confound thee:
Behold thy fate, this steele.
Ith.
Strike home; a courage
As keene as thy reuenge shalt giue it welcome;
But prethe faint not; if the wound close vp,
Tent it with double force, and search it deeply.
Thou look'st that I should whine, and beg compassion,
As loath to leaue the vainnesse of my glories;
A statelier resolution armes my confidence,
To cozen thee of honour; neither could I,
With equall tryall of vnequall fortune,
By hazard of a duell, 'twere a brauery.
On to the Execution, and inherit
A conflict with thy horrors.
Org.
By Apollo,
Thou talk'st a goodly language; for requitall,
I will report thee to thy mistresse richly:
And take this peace along; some few short minutes
Determin'd, my resolues shall quickly follow
Thy wrathfull ghost; then if we tug for mastery,
Pentheas sacred eyes shall lend new courage.
Giue me thy hand, be healthfull in thy parting
From lost mortality: thus, thus, I free it.
kils him.
Ith.
Yet, yet, I scorne to shrinke.
Org.
Keepe vp thy spirit:
I will be gentle euen in blood; to linger
Paine, which I striue to cure, were to be cruell.
Ith.
Nimble in vengeance I forgiue thee; follow
Safety, with best successe ô may it prosper!
Penthea, by thy side thy brother bleeds:
The earnest of his wrongs to thy forc'd faith,
Thoughts of ambition, or delitious banquet,
With beauty, youth, and loue, together perish
In my last breath, which on the sacred Altar
Of a long look'd for peace-now-moues-to heauen.
meritura
Org.
Farewell, faire spring of manhood; henceforth welcome
Best expectation of a noble suffrance:
I'le locke the bodies safe, till what must follow
Shall be approu'd.—Sweet Twins shine stars for euer.
In vaine they build their hopes, whose life is shame,
No monument lasts but a happy Name.
Exit Orgilus.
| The Broken Heart | |