 | The Lost Lady |  |
Act. 4
SCÆ. 1.
Enter Lysicles.Ly.
This is the houre powerfull Acanthe promis'd,
I should once more behold my lost Milesia.
Pardon me reason, that my wither'd hopes
Rebell against thy force, a happinesse
So mighty is oppos'd unto thy doubts,
That Ile devest my selfe for ever of thee,
Rather than not beleeve impossibles,
That bring such comforts to my languisht soule.
Haile holy Treasurer of all the wealth
Nature e're lent the world, be still the envy
Of the proud Monuments that doe enclose
The glorious Titles of great Conquerors.
Let no prophane aire pierce thee but my sighes,
Milesia riseth like a ghost.
Let them have entrance whilst my teares doe warme
Thy colder Marble.—Ha, what Miracle,
Are the gods pleas'd to worke to ease affliction?
The Phœnix is created from her ashes,
Pure as the flames that made 'em: still the same,
The same Milesia! Heaven does confesse in this,
That she can onely adde unto thy beauty,
By making it immortall.
Let it be lawfull for thy Lysicles,
To touch thy sacred hand, and with it guide
My wandring soule unto that part of Heaven,
Thy beauty does enlighten.
Gho,
Forbeare, and heare me: if you approach, I vanish;
Impious inconstant Lysicles, cannot
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A mortall shape, perswade thee there are gods
To punish falsehood, that thou still persists
In thy dissembling: doe not I know
Thy heart is swolne with vowes thou hast laid up
For thy Hermione, whom thou wouldst perswade,
Thy narrow heart is capable of love
By mocking of my ashes, and erecting Tombs to me, which are
Indeed but Trophies of thy dead conquer'd love and vertue.
Ly.
No more blest shape:
I shall not thinke that thou descend'st from Heaven,
If thou continuest thus in doubt of me;
Nor can there be a Hell where such formes are.
The knowledge how thou com'st here, doth disturbe me;
Yet such a reverence I doe owe thy image,
That I will lay before thee all my thoughts
Spotlesse as Truth, then thou shalt tell the shades,
How Fortune, though it made my love unhappy,
Could not diminish it, nor presse it one degree
From the proud height it was arrived to:
How I did nightly pray to this sad Tombe,
Bringing and taking fire of constant love
From the cold ashes, how when incompast
With thousand horrours Death had beene a rest,
I did preferre a loath'd life to revenge my selfe,
And her upon the murderer.
Gho.
I shall desire to live if this be true;
Nothing can adde a comfort where I am,
But the assurance of your love: I know
Faith is not tyed to passe the confines
Of this life, yet Hermione's happinesse
Does trouble me: You'le thinke I lov'd
You living, when dead, I am jealous of you.
Ly.
Milesia, againe blest Saint, now I am sure thou art
What thou resemblest, and do'st know my secret'st thought.
But as the gods, of which thou art a part,
Art not content with our hearts sacrifice,
Unlesse our words confesse it: heare me then,
If my thoughts e're consented to replant
My love, may your dire Thunder light
Upon my head, and sinke it downe so low,
I may not see thy glories: I confesse
My words have sacrific'd to Deities,
I ne're ador'd those staines of love,
My teares and friendship to the best of men,
I hope I have cancell'd for my Eugenio:
I did pretend a love unto Hermione,
Who else had sold her selfe unto the rage
Of her offended Father; had you liv'd,
You would have pardon'd, when infidelity
But personated did preserve a faith
So holy as theirs was, this is my fault.
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My glory and my happinesse.
Ly.
Yet this as oft I wept as I was forc'd
(For his deare cause) to injure sacred love,
Yet durst not but decline his severe Lawes,
When my friends life excus'd the pious errour.
Gho.
Did you suspect her, that you conceal'd this from her?
Ly.
There is but one Milesia, besides,
If true, I meant her feares should aide
My false disguise, which her quick-sighted Father
Would else have pierc'd, who hates Evgenio,
And loves no vertue but what shines through wealth.
Ly.
My best, best Lysicles, I am againe in love,
Thy holy flame doth lend me light to see
My closed fires; why did not Fate give me
So large a field to exercise my Faith?
I envy thee this tryall, and would be
Expos'd to dangers, that have yet no name,
That I might meet thy love with equall merit.
Ly.
The cause takes all away, and want of power
Excuseth what I cannot yet expresse too much of me,
But how our loves came to so sad a period,
As yet in clouds I have onely seene,
Gho.
My Uncles cruelty and hate of you procur'd our separation.
Ly.
But how knew he our loves? though torment since
Have wrung it from me, my joyes ever flow'd silent and calme.
Gho.
I know it, but we were betray'd
By one that serv'd me, and the doubts confirm'd
By the Moore you spake with yesterday.
Ly.
Ha? How came she to know it, she was not here.
Gho.
All that I ever did shee's conscious of,
And jealous of your love unto Hermione,
Did place me here, to search into your thoughts,
And now is prouder of this discovery,
Than if a Crowne were added to her.
Ly.
To what strange Lawes does Heaven confine it selfe,
That it will suffer them that dare be damn'd
To have power over those it has selected,
My teares and sacrifice could never gaine
So much upon its mercy, as to lend
Thy happy sight for one faint minutes comfort:
Yet those that sell themselves to Hell, can force
Thy quiet rest for inquisition on innocence,
And to what purpose serves faith and religious secresie
When Magick mocks and frustrates all our vowes?
This Moore then was confederate with your Uncles passion.
Gho.
She is the cause that I doe walke in shades.
Ly.
And I will be, that she shall walke in Hell:
With her I will begin, then seeke revenge
Under the ruines of thy Uncles house:
All men that dare to name him, and not curse
His memory, shall feele the power
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Gho.
My dearest Lysicles, promise to be
But temperate in your anger, and I will
Discover more than you yet hop'd to know.
Enter Pindarus and servants.
Ly.
As justice that's concern'd to punish crimes,
I will.
Gho.
Then know I was betrai'd.
Oh love, here's company, I must retire.
Pin.
Talking to graves at night, and making love i'th day:
My Lord, I, nor my daughter have deserv'd this.
Ly.
Pardon me Sir, I could doe no lesse,
Being to take an everlasting farewell, but give this
Visite to her memory: reserve your censure
Till ten dayes be over, and if I doe not
Satisfie you, condemne me.
Exeunt.
Enter Hermione and Phillida.
Her.
Philly, take thy Lute, and sing the song
Was given thee last.
Exeunt.
Song.
VVhere did you borrow that last sigh,
and that relenting groane?
For those that sigh, and not for love,
Vsurpe what's not their owne.
Loves arrowes sooner armour pierce,
Than your soft snowy skinne,
Your eyes can onely teach us love,
But cannot take it in.
Another sigh than I may hope
The Song being ended, Enter Phillida.
Ph.
Oh Madam, call all your sorrowes to you, you are
Not sad enough to heare the newes I bring.
Her.
Would it were killing, that my death might end
My feares, as my life has my hopes.
Ph.
You mistake me Madam, Eugenio is return'd.
He.
Eugenio return'd? thou hast reason, Phillida, I
Should be dead with sorrow: 'Tis not fit we heare his name
Without a miracle: where is he? send to bring him hither.
Ph.
He waites on your commands without.
Her.
Bring him in.
Good gods, if you can suffer me one minutes joy,
Give it me now, and let excesse of happinesse
Finish what sorrow cannot. But where's this happinesse
I faine would dreame of? Eugenio is return'd,
That I may looke on him, and not be his,
And call our faiths in vaine to aide our loves.
Enter Evgenio and Phillida.
Ev.
May the gods give you, Madam, a content
As high, as you have power to bestow
On those you favour, and then your happinesse
Will be as great as is your beauty.
He.
Oh my best Lord, you now behold a face
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Not to be stain'd with't: sure you cannot know it.
I pray say you doe not, you will wrong
Two things I am most proud of, my just griefe,
And your young love, which could not grow,
Nourish't with such poore heate as now it gives.
I have a story that will breake your heart
When you have heard it, and mine ere I
Deliver it. Prince Lysicles to morrow marries me,
Or I must leave my duty, or my life:
Forgive me that I dare to utter this.
Eu.
Madam, forbeare your teares, they are a ransome
Too mighty to redeeme the greatest faith
The gods were ever witnesse to. I know
Whereto you tend, you would have me untye
The knot that bound our loves, and I will do't,
Though it be fasten'd to my strings of life:
Be happie in your choice, give to his merit,
What once you promis'd to my perfit love,
By which I onely did pretend my claime:
I doe release you, as I know heaven has;
Who in his justice cannot have consented
To a longer faith in you; you must not be
The conquest of a miserable man,
O're whom their cruelst influences raigne.
He.
Some saving power close up my drowned eyes,
Which death had long since shut, had not the love
And hope of seeing you preserv'd them open.
Have I beene false for this to all my friends,
That you should thinke I can be so to you?
Adde not by your suspitions a crime to our mis-fortune.
Eu.
Of you I can have none, but what excuse you:
You had made me miserable, had not your faith
Yeelded to those assaults; as worth and greatnesse
Titles your fathers rage, and your owne judgement
Did shake and raze it, with what disturbed minde
Should I have look'd on you my heart ador'd,
And love made miserable? still you weepe,
But these are teares your fortune did lay up
To ease your misery: had you continued mine,
And your Sunnes clear'd from their last clouds,
They will more freely shine upon your Lysicles:
For my selfe, my love in his last act shall recompence
The injuries 't'as done to your repose
By killing me, then must injustice flie,
And hale inconstancie along with her,
From your faire conquered soule they now possesse.
He.
Oh my griefes!
Now I perceive the gods decreed you endlesse,
Since they have made him adde unto my torment,
Whose memory before did make the sharpest, glorious:
Teares, and sighes, and groanes farewell:
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And you being lost I have no use of them.
Here, take this paper, 'tis the last Legacy
My love shall ever give you: 'twas design'd
When I conceiv'd you worthy.
If you beleeve her words, whose faith was never lost,
Though you ungratefully have flung it off,
If so, you be not that you accuse me for, you there shall finde
A story that will punish your suspition.
He reades, and then kneeles, and she turnes from him.
Eu.
You that by powerfull prayers have diverted
An imminent ruine, inspire me with fit words
To appease my injur'd Mistresse; heare me,
— doe not kneele for mercy, but to begge
Your leave to dye: I must not live
When pardons make my offence most horrible,
And hell is here without them; take a middle way
If you incline to mercy, and forget me.
Her.
Rise, this is worse than your doubts were.
Turne not your face away; would you revenge,
Then let my eyes dwell on't: what punishment
Can there be greater, than for me to see the beauty I have lost
By my owne fault? looke then upon me.
Her.
No, I must yet keepe my anger to preserve my honour,
And I dare not trust that, and my eyes at once,
If they behold you.
Eu.
Then heare a wretched man, that has out-liv'd
So much his hopes, he knowes not what to wish,
Whether to live or die; yet life for this
I onely seeke, that you may finde I shrinke not
To punish him your Justice has condemn'd.
Her.
Rise, I can hold out no longer, the bare sounds
Of your death dissolve my resolutions:
Forget my anger, as I will the cause.
Eu.
Never, it shall live here to honour me,
Since pitty of my love made you decline it:
But must—
Her.
Yes, the vertuous Lysicles, for his respects to me,
How 'ere unhappy, challeng'd that name,
In your absence labours to marry me: yet death—
Eu.
Wretched Eugenio, did thy coward Fate
Not dare to strike thee, till thou turn'dst thy backe:
Must I returne from banishment to finde
My hopes are banish'd? Did I for this love Vertue,
Pursued her rugged pathes, when danger made
Her horrid to the valiant, to be ruin'd
By him that is most vertuous? Yee gods,
Was envy, malice, Fortune impotent
To injure me, but you must raise up Vertue
To suppresse me—If I suffer it, I shall deserve it.
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Oh my Eugenio, we are miserable,
Yet must not quarrell love, to take or give
A seeming comfort: goe trie all your power
Of hate or friendship to undoe this match,
Ile give you leave to die first: any thing,
But let not me have so much leave to change,
As to beleeve you thinke it possible.
Exeunt.
Enter Lysicles and Servant.
Ser.
The Physitian you sent for waits without.
Ly.
Bring him in, and stay in the next roome.
Enter Physitian.
You are welcome: I must imploy your trust and
Secresie in something that concernes me. You must
Procure me instantly a powerfull poison.
Ph.
My Lord!
Ly.
Nay, no ceremonies of deniall. I give you
My Intents, not to be disputed, but obeyed. I know
You walke not frequently in these rough waies;
But 'tis not want of knowledge, but your will,
Makes you decline them.
Ph.
My Lord, I have observ'd you long, and see you
Weare your life like something you would faine
Put off. I will not undertake to counsell you, in
That your nearest friends have oft attempted,
Without successe: yet if my life should issue
With the words I now will utter, Ile boldly tell
Your Grace, I will not be a meanes to cut your
Daies off, to make mine happy ever.
Ly.
I did expect this from you; and to enforme you
Briefely, know, though I doe loath my life, I will
Not part with't willingly, till it does serve
Me to revenge my wrongs: and to assure you more,
I will not use your Art against my selfe: Let
Your composition procure the greatest torture
Poison can force, for I must use it upon one
Our Lawes cannot condemne; because the circumstance
That makes him guilty cannot be produc't, but
With expence of time, and my revenge will not admit it.
By my honour this is the cause.
Ph.
If I were sure your enemies should onely trie
The effects of what I can doe in your service,
The horrid'st tortures Treason e're justified,
Should not exceed the suff'rings of those
Should take the poison I can bring you.
Ly.
Bring it me instantly; and if the paines of Hell
Can be felt here, let your ingredients call them up.
If his life were onely my aime and end, whilst
I doe weare this, I'de not implore your aide;
But I must set him on the racke, that there he
May confesse my inquisition justice.
Ph.
An houre returnes me with your commands
Perform'd—yet I'le observe you farther.
Ly.
So, this is the first degree to my revenge,
Which I will prosecute till I have made
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Wash their impiety in their guilty bloud.
All places where I meete them shall be Altars,
On which I'le sacrifice the Murtherers,
To appease the spirit of my injur'd Mistresse:
And the last Victime I will fall my selfe
Upon her sacred Tombe, to expiate
The crimes I have committed in deferring
Justice thus long. This curs'd Magitian
Shall be the first, she did reveale our loves;
Milesia said she did; and if it were
Her blessed spirit, nothing but truth dwels in't.
If twere a fantosme rais'd by her foule spels;
She paies the fault of her abusing me,
Insidiating with my Milesia's forme,
To search, and then betray my resolution
Enter Servant.
Of serving my best friend: how now?
Ser.
Sir, Lord Pindarvs would speake with you.
Ly.
Where is he?
Exeunt.
| The Lost Lady | |