 | The Lost Lady |  |
ACT. 2.
SCÆ. 1.
Enter Hermione, Irene, and Phillida.Irene.
Have you sent for the Egyptian Lady?
Her.
I have, and she'l be here within this halfe houre.
Ir.
She speakes our Language.
Her.
Her father was of Greece, a wealthy Marchant,
And his businesse enforcing him to leave his
Country, he married a Lady of that place where he liv'd,
Who excellent in the Mystery of devination,
Hath left that knowledge to her daughter,
Enricht with thousand other modest vertues,
As is deliver'd to me by those are frequent with her.
Ir.
Doe you beleeve what Phillida saith,
Is the voice of all your friends?
Her.
What ist?
Ir.
That you shall marry with Prince Lysicles.
Phi.
I heard your Uncle say, the Governour did
Receive it with all appearances of joy, in hope
This match will free him from this deepe Melancholy:
And 'tis determin'd the next feast joynes your hands.
Her.
The Grave must be my bed then:
With what harsh fate doth Heaven afflict me,
That all those blessings which make others happy,
Must be my ruine? but if this Ladies knowledge
Shall informe me, that I shall nee're enjoy Evgenio,
Darknesse shall ceaze mee 're Tapers light,
My blushes to the fore-sworne Hymens rights.
Ir.
Why should you labour your disquiet Cozen?
Anticipating thus your knowledge, you will make
Your future sufferings present, and so call
A lasting griefe upon you, which your hopes
Might dissipate till Heaven had made your mind
Strong enough to encounter them.
Her.
Deare Irene, our Stars, whose influence doth governe us,
Are not malignant to us, but whilst we
Remaine in this false earth: he that hath courage
To devest himselfe of that, removes with it
Their powers to hurt him; and injured love
Who sees that Fortune would usurpe his power,
I know will not be wanting.
Enter Acanthe the Moore.
See, the Lady comes.
Madam, the excuse that justifies sicke men that
Send for their Physitian, must beg my pardon,
That did not visite you to have this honor. Here you see
A Virgin, that hath long stood the marke of Fortune,
15
Resented what I suffer, yet I feare
That they have plung'd me to extreames exceed
Their owne assistance.
Mo.
Feare not their power.
Her.
I doe not, but their will to helpe me I must doubt,
For those that know no reason of their hate,
Must feare it is perpetuall.
And let the Ensignes of their wrath fall on me,
If ere by any willing act I have
Provok't their justice: to you now, in whom
'Tis said, as in their Oracle they speake. I come to
Know what mighty growth of dangers are decreed me.
Mo.
First, dearest Lady, doe not thinke my power
Greater as my will to serve you, 'tis so weake
That if you should reley on't, I shall seeme
Cold in your service, when it does not answer
What is expected from it, all I know,
Is but conjectured, for our Stars encline,
Not force us in our actions. Let me observe your face.
Her.
Doe, and if yet you are not perfit in your Mysteries,
Observe mine well, and when you meet a face
Branded with such a line, conclude it miserable:
When an eye that doth resemble this,
Teach it to weepe betimes, that so being lost,
It may not see those miseries must be his onely object.
The Moore starts.
Are my misfortunes of that horrid shape,
That the meere speculation doth affright
Those whose compassion onely it concernes?
I that must stand the stroakes then, what defence
Shall I prepare against them? yet a hope
That they be ripen'd now to fall on me,
Lightens a desperate joy to my darke soule.
For the last dart shall be embraced
As remedy, to cure my former wounds.
Mo.
'Tis not that, I was surpriz'd in considering I must
Partake of all your fortunes, for our ascendants
Threaten like danger to us both.
Her.
Are then my miseries growne infectious too,
Must that be added? pardon me gentle Lady this sad crime.
I must account amongst my secret faults:
I meant no more but to communicate,
Not part my sorrowes with you.
Mo.
Would you could, with what great willingnesse
Should I embrace a share of what afflicts you.
I'de hast to meet and ease you of your feares.
Now if to one whose interest doe force her
To advance your hopes, you dare deliver
The cause of your disquiet, you shall find
A closet, if not a fort, to vindicate your feares.
Her.
You shall know all. I have exchang'd my heart
With a yong Gentleman's now banished
16
To make me his, my Father resolute,
I should consent, till Fortune changed, but
Lessened not my sufferings; for our Prince
Lysicles ruines me with the honour of his search.
Mo.
Does Evgenio know you love him?
Her.
No.
Mo.
Why does he doubt it?
Her.
A womanish scorne to have my love reveal'd,
Made me receive his declaration of it,
As an affront unto my honour.
And when he came to take his leave,
I left him in the opinion I would obey my Father.
Mo.
I've heard as much; but contradictions
In the Princes actions doe amaze me:
They say he loves your friend, and labours now
For to recall him, and that every Night
He courts his former flame, hid in the ashes
Of his lost Mistresse.
Her.
By this judge how miserable I am?
That my malignant Starres force them to change
Nature and Vertue too, that else would shine,
Unmoved like the Starre, that does direct
The wandering Sea-men: must then Nature change,
And will not Fortune cease to persecute?
Good gods; I will submit to all but breach of faith.
Mo.
They will not heare us Madam, unlesse we
Contribute to their aide our best indeavours.
I have thought a way may for a time secure you;
You must dissemble with the Prince, and seeme
To love Ergasto.
'Tis not impossible, but he seeing you
Preferre one so beneath him, may provoke
A just neglect from him; then for Ergasto,
Besides the time you gaine, there may succeed
A thousand waies to hinder his pretence.
Her.
Can my heart e're consent my tongue should say,
I am to any other but Evgenio?
No my deare Love, though cruell Fate hath sever'd
My vow'd embraces, yet hath Death Ice enough
To fright all others from them.
Mo.
I see Love is a Child still, what a trifle
Doth now disturbe him: You will not get your health
O'th price of saying you are sicke; I know
There is another remedy more proportion'd for your disease,
But not for you that suffer, which is this:
Tell the Prince that you're engag'd, but he
That broke with vowes and friendship, for your love,
Will not desist for such suppos'd slight lets,
And then your Father will force you to his will.
Her.
If the Prince leave me, it is most certaine
He'le use his power to make me take Ergasto.
17
Those that in dangers that doe presse them nearely,
Will not resolve,
Upon some hazard, and give leave to chance
To governe what our knowledge cannot hinder,
Must sir still, and waite their preservation from a miracle.
Her.
I am determin'd; for knives, fire, and Seas shall lose
Their qualities, 'ere Fate shall make me his:
And if Death cannot be shun'd, I'le meet it boldly.
Enter Irene.
Ir.
Cozen, the Prince is come to see you.
Mo.
Good Madam use some meanes that I may speake
With him before he goes; my heart doth promise
I shall doe something in your service, and
Be sure when he first speakes of love, seeme not
To understand him.— Exit.
Enter Lysicles.
Ly.
Madam, I have beg'd leave of your Noble Father,
To offer up my selfe a servant to your vertues.
Her.
It is a grace our family must boast of,
That you descend to visit those that stile
Themselves your creatures, made such by your goodnesse,
Which we can onely pay by frequent praiers,
That your Line may last, as glorious to
Posterity, as your now living fame is.
Ly.
Madam, you were not wont, by a feigned praise,
To scorne those that admire you; or would you thus
Insinuate what I should be, by telling
Me I am, what I must ever aime at.
Her.
Were there proportion 'twixt our births my Lord,
'Twould ill become a Virgins mouth to utter
How much you doe deserve, that will excuse,
When I shall say, our Greece ne're saw your equall.
Ly.
I did not thinke I ever could be mov'd
With my owne praise, but now my happinesse
So much depends, that you shall truely thinke
What now you utter of me; that I glory
My actions are thus favour'd by your judgement.
Her.
VVe must forget our safeties, and the gods,
VVhose Instrument you were of our deliverance,
When we are silent of the mighty Debt
This Kingdome owes your courage.
Ly.
This declaration of your favouring me, will plead
My pardon, if I doe omit the Ceremoniall circumstance,
Which usually makes way for this great truth
I now must utter. Madam, I doe love
Your vertues with that adoration,
That the all-seeing Sunne does not behold
A Lady that I love with equall ardour.
Our friends have most power over us, both
Doe second my desires of joyning us
In the sacred tye of Marriage.
Her.
My Lord, I thought at first how ill my words
18
They were design'd, which was to speake you truely,
Not with a flatt'ring ambition:
They might engage you to the love of one
So farre unequall, if I have ever gain'd
Any thing on your goodnesse, I'le not lose it
By foolishly aspiring to that height,
You must in honour dispossesse me of
When I was seated: Marry you my Lord!
The King, our neighbour Princes, all good men
Must curse me as a staine to those great vertues
You're the single Lord of; if you speake this to try
What easie conquest you can make of all,
You faintly but pretend to, I'le confesse
The weakenesse of our Sexe, who would be prouder
Onely to have the shewes of your affection,
Than reall loves of any they can hope
With Justice to attaine to.
Ly.
What ever I deserve,
The gods have largely recompenc'd my intent
Of doing vertuously, if it hath gain'd so much
Upon your goodnesse, as to make a way for my affection.
HER.
My Lord, I doe not understand you.
Ly.
Pardon me dearest Lady, if my words
Too boldly doe deliver what my actions
And frequent services should first have smooth'd
The way they are to take, my Happinesse
So nearely is concern'd, you shall approve
Me for your Servant, that I trembling hast,
To know what rigours or what joyes expect me.
But ere you doe begin to speake my Fate,
Know whom you doe condemne, or whom make happy:
One, that when misery had made so wretched,
That it ravisht his desires to change,
Whose eyes were turned inward on his griefe,
Pleas'd with no object but what caus'd their teares,
Your beauty onely rais'd from his darke seate
Of circling sorrowes, lighting me a hope
By you I might receive all happinesse,
The gods have made my heart capacious of.
Her.
Good my Lord, give me leave againe to say,
I dare not understand you, you are too noble
To glory in the conquest of a heart
That ever hath admir'd you, and to thinke
You can so farre forget your Birth and Vertue,
As to beleeve me fit to be your Wife,
Were a presumption, that swelling pride
Must be the father of, which never yet
My heart could be ally'd to: continue Prince,
Be the example of a constant love,
And let not your Milesia's ashes shrinke
With a new piercing cold, which they will feele
I'th'instant, that your heart shall be consenting
19
Your mind can ne're admit a noble Love,
If it hath banisht hers your memory.
Ly.
Must that be argument of cruelty,
Which should be cause of pitty? And will you
Assume the Patronage of envious Fortune
By adding torments unto her affliction?
Must I be miserable in loosing you,
Because the gods thought me unworthy her?
Did I so easily digest her death,
That I want pitty, and am thought unworthy
Of all succeeding love?
Witnesse my losse of joyes, if sorrow could
Have kill'd me, I had not liv'd to shew you mercy.
Her.
Protect me Vertue,
Pardon me my Lord, I know your griefes
How great and just they are, and onely meant
By mentioning Milesia, to confesse
How much unworthy I am to succeed her
In your affection, which though you bent
As low as I durst raise my selfe to reach,
'Twere now impiety for me to graspe,
I being no more my owne disposer.
Ly.
Ha, what Fate hath ta'ne you from your selfe?
Her.
The Lord Ergasto's importunitie,
Whom though at first no inclination
Of mine made me affect his vowes,
Hath vanisht my determination,
I finding nothing in my selfe deserving
The constancy of his affection to me,
Besides my Fathers often urging me
To make my choice obeying his commands,
And threatning misery, if I declin'd the least,
Knowing his violent nature, I consented
To a contract 'twixt me and the Lord Ergasto.
Ly.
Oh the prophesies of my unjust feares how true
My heart fore-told you!
Madam, it cannot be you should affect
One that hath no desert, but what you give,
By making him a part of you, my hopes
Though alwaies blasted, could not apprehend
A feare from him: I should be happy yet,
If any worthy love shadowed my shame
Of being refus'd by you.
Her.
Give not my want of power to serve your Grace,
The cruell Title of refusing you.
Your merits are so great, you may assure
Your selfe of all you can desire that's possible
To grant, whom thousand worthier than my selfe
Would kneele to.
By my life, if my Faith were not given, I would
20
Though no ambitious pride could flatter me,
You could descend to raise me to your height.
Ly.
Must this be added to my former griefes?
That in the instant you professe to pittie
What I must suffer in your losse; your vertue,
For which I admire you, must exclude
My hopes of ever changing your resolves:
Yet let my vowes gaine thus much of you,
That for a Month you will not marry him;
I know your Father will not force you to't,
For he not knowing what hath pass'd betweene you,
Consented to this visit.
Her.
By all things holy this I sweare to doe,
Though violent Diseases should enclose me
Till the Priest joyn'd our hands; yet if you please
Let not my Father know, but he's the cause,
I dare not looke upon the mightie blessing
Your love doth promise.
Ly.
May I not know the reason?
Her.
That he may know, that this unquestion'd power
Hath forc'd me to that errour, which himselfe,
And I, must ever mourne unpittied.
Ly.
Now you throw Oyle upon the wound you make:
I may be ignorant of all things else,
But of my want of merit to deserve
I am most perfect in: be happy Lady,
He that enjoyes you shall not neede that praier:
My Fathers businesse calls me.
Her.
Let me intreate you, that you'le see a Lady,
Whose vertues doe deserve the honour of our knowledge.
Ly.
What is shee?
Her.
An Egyptian Lady, lately come to Cirrha.
Ly.
I have heard of her; they say she knowes our
Actions past, and future.
Her.
When you know her, you will beleeve me,
That vertue chose that darke inhabitation,
To hide her Treasure from the envious world.
Ile call her to your Grace.
Enter Acanthe.
Her.
Madam, this is the Prince.
He salutes her.
Mo.
You neede not tell me it, though this be the first
Time that I saw him since I came to Cirrha,
His Fame doth make him knowne to all that are
Remotest from him.
Ly.
My miseries indeede have made it great;
For all things else I should be more
Beholding unto silence, than the voice
Of my most partiall friends: Why doe you gaze upon me so?
Mo.
Have you not lately lost a Lady that did love you dearly?
Ly.
If you doe measure time by what I suffer,
My undiminish'd griefe tells me but now:
21
That have oppress'd me since the fatall stroake,
It is an age eternity of torments I have felt.
Mo.
Good Sir, with-draw a little, I shall deliver
They whisper.
What you beleeve, none know besides my selfe.
Ly.
Most true it is, what god that heard our
Vowes hath told it you?
But if your eies pierce farther in their secrets
Than our weake fancies can give credit to,
Tell me if where she is, she can discerne and know my actions?
Mo.
Most perfectly she does, and mournes your losse of faith,
That now beginne after so many vowes,
So many oathes you would be onely hers,
To thinke of a new choise.
Ly.
This may be conspiracy. Ile trie it further.
Mo.
Had you beene snacht from her, and for her sake
Murther'd, as she for you, your Urnes cold ashes
Should have hid her fire of faithfull love.
Pardon me my Lord.
Her injur'd spirit inspires me with this boldnesse.
Ly.
I am certaine, this is no inspiration of the gods,
It cannot be she should consent, my faith
Should be the ruine of my name and memory,
Which necessarily must follow, if vertuous love
Did not continue it to future ages.
Mo.
Fame of a constant lover will eternize it
More than a numerous issue; would you heare
Her selfe expresse her sorrow?
Ly.
If I should desire it, it were impossible.
Mo.
You conclude too fast: if this night you'le come
Unto her Tombe, you there shall see her.
Ly.
Though she bring Thunder in her hand, I will not faile to come.
And though I cannot credit that your power can procure it,
My hope's it should be so, will overcome my reason.
Ladies, I am your servant.
Exit.
Mo.
Madam, I cannot stay to know particulars,
Of what hath pass'd betwixt you and the Prince:
Onely tell me how he relisht your saying, you
Were promis'd to Ergasto?
Her.
Respects to one I seem'd to have made choise of,
Made him forbeare his Character:
But shall not I be punish'd seeming to prefer,
One so unworthy both to Evgenio, and this noble Prince?
Mo.
The gods give us permission to be false,
When they exclude us from all other waies,
Which may preserve our faith.
Longer I dare not stay, I am your servant.
Exeunt.
Enter Ergasto, Cleon, Formio.
Er.
Now we are met, what shall we doe to keep us together?
Ph.
Let's take some argument may last an houre of mirth.
22
If you'le have Ergasto be of the parley, it must
Be of the Ladies, for he is desperately in love.
Ph.
If the disease grow old in him, I'le pay the physitian;
But be it so, and let it be lawfull to change as often as we will.
Er.
What the Ladies?
Ph.
The discourse of them, and themselves too, if we
Could arrive to it: but what is she you love?
Er.
One that I would sacrifice halfe my life,
To have but a weekes enjoying of.
Ph.
At these games of love we set all; but the best is,
We cannot stake, and there's no losse of credit in the breaking.
Cleon, hast thou seene him with his Mistresse?
Cl.
Yes; and he stands gazing on her, as if he were begging
Of an Almes.
Ph.
'Tis not ill done; but does he not speake to her?
Cl.
Never, but in Hyperbolies; tels her, her eyes are Stars,
Which Astronomers should onely study to know our Fate by.
Ph.
'Tis not amisse, if she have neither of the extreames.
Cl.
What doe you intend?
Ph.
I meane, neither so ill favoured, as to have
No ground for what we say, for their beleefe
Will hardly enter; nor so handsome, as to have
It often spoken to her: For your indifferent beauties
Are those whom flattery surpriseth, there being
So naturall a love and opinion of our selves,
That we are adapted to beleeve that men are rather
Deceived in us, than abuse us.
Er.
Your limitation takes away much of my answer:
But grant all that you say, I have no hope of
Obtaining my Mistresse.
Ph.
Then thou hast yet a yeare of happinesse:
But why I prethee?
Er.
She is so deserving, she thinkes none worthy
Of her affections, and so can love none.
Ph.
You have more cause to doubt, that she will never
Affect you, than that already she is not in love:
What a yong handsome Lady, that carries the flame of her heart
in her cheeks, not have yet seen any one to desire? 'tis impossible.
Er.
I was of your minde, till I had experience
Of the contrary.
Ph.
Conceites of your selfe, makes you of the opinion
I mention'd: You thinke 'tis impossible for all men,
What you cannot attaine to; what Arts
Have you us'd to gaine her?
Cl.
He knowes none but distilling sighes
At the Altar of her beauty.
Ph.
If he be subject to that frenzie, I will
Counsell him to take any Trade upon him
Rather than that of Love.
Er.
And doe you thinke there is any thing fitter
To call downe affection than submission?
23
Nothing more opposite for languishing transports;
Whinings and Melancholy makes us more laught at,
Than belov'd of our Mistresses; and with reason:
For why should we hope to deserve their favours,
When we confesse we merit not a lawfull esteeme of our selves?
Cl.
I have knowne some their Mistresses have forsaken,
Onely because they were certaine the world tooke notice
They were deepely in love with them.
PH.
And they did wisely; for the victory being got,
They were to prepare for a new Triumph, and
Not like your City Officers, ride still with the
Same Liveries. Some I confesse, have miscarry'd
In it, but 'twas because their provision of
Beauty was spent before they came to composition.
Er.
Thou wer't an excellent foole in a chamber, if you
Continue, you'le be so in a Comedie: Dost beleeve
Thau canst swagger them out of their loves?
PH.
Sooner than soften their hearts by my teares,
And though a River should run through me,
I would seale up my eies, before a drop should
Come that way: for our unmanly submissions
Raise them to that height, that they thinke
We are largely favour'd, if they hearken to us with contempt.
Er.
'Tis safer they should do so, than hate us for our insolēce.
PH.
If thou hast ever beene us'd to talke sence,
I should wonder at thee now: why I should
Sooner hope to gaine a Lady after the Murther
Of her familie, than after she had an opinion
I deserv'd to be slighted by her.
Cl.
'Fore Venvs he talkes with Authority: I know
Not well what he has said, but methinkes
There is something in it: prethee let's hearken to him.
PH.
Doe; and if I doe not dispossesse you of all your
Opinions, let me be—
Er.
You must deale by inchantment then; for I am
Resolv'd to sticke to my conclusions.
PH.
'Tis the best hold-fast your foolish Devill has;
But strong reasons shall be your Exorcisme.
Tell me first what is she you love?
Er.
Would I could.
PH.
Then for all thy jesting, there's some hope
Thou art yet in thy wits.
Er.
You mistake me, I meane I could not tell, because
No Tongue can speake her to her merit.
PH.
Heyda, if the Ballad of the Rose and the Honey-combe
Doe not doe it more than she deserves, or almost any woman,
Let me be condemn'd to sing the funerals of Parrats.
Cl.
Would the Ladies heard you.
PH.
They would beleeve me, though they would be
Sorry your Honours should: but what, this love
Has it transform'd us all? Cleon, you can tell
Who tis he thus admires?
24
Yes, and will, 'tis Hermione, Pindarvs his heire.
PH,
What Epictetvs in a petti-coate? she that disputes
love into nothing, or what's worse, a friendship with a woman?
Cl.
The same, and I know you'le confesse shee's deserving.
PH.
Yes, but the mischiefe is, shee'le ne're thinke so
Of him: If Polygamy were in fashion, I would
Perswade him to marrie her, to be Governesse to the rest,
But not till then, wouldst thou be content
To lye with a Statue, that will never confesse more of love,
Than suffering the effects of thine?
Cl.
And have his liberties in the discourse of her friends,
That her retirednesse may be more magnified.
PH.
Beleeve me Ergasto, these severe beauties, that
Are to be look'd on with the eyes of respect,
Are not for us: we must have them that love to
Be prais'd more for faire Ladies, than judicious.
Er.
You mistake me gentlemen, I chuse for my self, not for you.
PH.
Faith for that, who ever marries, must sacrifice
To Fortune, and she, whose wisedome makes her
Snow to you, may be Fire to another: Some odde
Wrinkled fellow, that conquers her with wit,
May throw her on her backe with reason. Take
This from the Oracle, that for the generall
Calamity of Husbands, all women are reputed
Vicious, and for the quiet of particulars,
Every one thinkes his wife the Phœnix.
Er.
You have met with rare Fortunes.
PH.
Calumnie is so generall, that Truth has lost
Her credit: But to th'purpose, what Rivalls? what hopes?
Cl.
A potent Rivall takes away all; Lysicles does woe her.
PH.
Good night, I will dispute it no more, whether thou
Shouldst have her, or no; for now I conclude, it is impossible.
Er.
I had her Fathers firm consent before he declar'd himselfe.
PH.
Though thou hadst hers too, be wise, and dispaire
Betimes: In this point Women are Common-wealths,
And are oblig'd to their faiths no farther
Than the safety and honour of the State is
Concern'd: If thou wer't the first example, I
Would excuse thee for being the first cozen'd.
But stay, who's here?
Enter Phillida vail'd, beckons to Ergasto.
O'my conscience, an Embassage from some of
Your kind Mistresses, that would faine take their
Leaves before you goe to captivity.
Er.
Is't possible?
PHI.
She desires you to see her, and beleeve that ambition
Cannot gaine more upon her than your affection.
Er.
Take this Ring, and this.
PHIL.
I dare not Sir.
Er.
I'le pay thy Dowry then within this halfe houre;
I'le waite on her.
Exit Phillida.
Cl.
From what part of the Towne came this faire day
In a Cloud, that makes you looke so cheerefully?
25
Alas Gentlemen, I was borne to know nothing
Of love, but sighes and despaires.
I can be servant to none that have the election of two.
Cl.
Unriddle, unriddle.
Her.
'Twas the servant of Hermione that came to
Have me waite upon her Lady.
Cl.
Phormio, what doe you thinke of this?
Ph.
I wo'not thinke at all, for feare I judge amisse.
The Mazes of a woman are so intricate, no
Precept can secure us: yet this I am resolv'd on,
Shee will not love you.
Cl.
Why sent she for him then?
Ph.
The Divell that advis'd her can tell you, they
Will not lose a servant whilst he lives,
Though they command him to be murdred: 'tis the
Woman Art, if they perceive a lover to desist
Through feare, distrust, or harsher usage, they
Open him the Heaven of their beauty, in smiles,
And yeelding lookes, and with their eyes doe melt
The ice of doubts their feares contracted: perhaps
Prince Lysicles spurs coldly, whilst he rides
Alone, and you must straine to make him goe
The faster: Evgenio too was servant to your
Mistresse, and Lysicles and he parted good friends.
Should I thinke all the waies they have to cozen
Us, 'twere endlesse: but Ile along with you,
And ghesse at more.
Exeunt.
| The Lost Lady | |