 | The Lost Lady |  |
ACT. 3.
SCÆ. 1.
Enter Hermione, Irene, Pindarvs following.Pin.
Tell my Lord Lysicles, I wil attend him in the walks.
Where's this ungratefull child, whom the just gods
Have curs'd so much, they will not let her take
The blessings they doe offer?
Her.
Here Sir, on her knees, begging your pardon, or your pitty.
Pin.
Canst thou hope either from my injur'd patience,
Vext by thy folly into rage and madnesse,
What colour now to cover disobedience?
Is Lysicles unworthy? or your knowledge,
Does it pierce farther than the eyes of all
Into Evgenio's vertues? I tremble
When I thinke thou maist have cause
To know him to thy shame: doe not confesse it,
By the just gods if I doe come to know it,
Ile sacrifice thee on thy Mothers Tombe.
Her.
What secret sinne calls downe this punishment?
That I should be accused of a fault
I dare not heare the sound of. Adde not Sir
Suspitions of new crimes unto your rage;
The faults I have committed are enough to arme
Your Justice; bring me to the Tombe,
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To see my blood shed to preserve my faith.
Pin.
Your faith?
Her.
Yes Sir:
Nor is my disobedience so swolne,
As you endeare it by your passion:
I now obey your generall commands,
Of doing vertuously in loving him
You did applaud, whilst my poore brother liv'd.
Pin.
But you are not the same, 'twas never meant
He should enjoy you if your brother died.
Her.
I was not made acquainted with so much,
But strengthned by your approbation,
Gave up my will to his, and vowes to heaven
To know no other man for husband.
Pin.
Nor I no childe, if you continue thus:
Nor will I argue more to make you doubt,
I am not resolute in my intents:
Alive or dead Ile give thee in the hands of Lysicles.
Her.
Good gods, if you are mov'd with teares, grant
This a tryall onely of the weake proportion
Of vertue you have lent me, not the overthrow.
Ir.
How is it dearest Cozen?
Her.
As with a Martyr, almost as much pleas'd with
Knowledge what I dare to suffer for Evgenio,
As griev'd with my affliction: Fortune in her
Malice has given me yet a field to exercise
My faith and love to him I doe adore.
Ir.
Whilst you beleeve you have such cause to grieve,
All comforts seeme importunate, but yet Prince Lysicles—
Her.
But what? Forbeare, I feare thy thoughts
Are poyson'd, which thou wouldst faine infuse
To wound my constancy.
Ir.
Sure there is Magick in that mysticke name,
It could not else divide us from our reason:
What Law, what faith can binde us to remove
Love of our selves, and reverence to our parents?
You must forgive this; your Evgenio,
If he were here, must speake as J doe now,
Granting his love be great as his profession,
For that must have reflexion on your peace,
Not bargaining for his owne happinesse
With the price of the intire destruction
Of yours: what ist you feare report?
It will reproach your being obstinate,
Or breach of faith: D'ee feare?
The gods for you have made it not a fault,
Proposing such an object as Prince Lysicles.
Her.
Who ever had a misery like mine?
All that are griev'd have yet the liberty
And ease of their complaints, or pittying friends,
J am excluded both; for my misfortune
27
Such comforts as we give to those complaine
Of being too rich, have I smiles of contempt.
Ir.
If it be thus, retire into your reason,
And for a time forget your passion.
D'ee thinke that all the names of vertue shrinke
Into the sound of constancy? Must this
Make you forget the debt that you doe owe
Unto your Father, friends, and to your selfe;
Their houses honour, and your happinesse,
Is Lysicles lesse worthy than his Rivall?
Her.
No more, their vertues that exceedes all other mens,
In them are equall.
Ir.
But yet their fortune is not.
Her.
'Tis confess'd: nor never any man had juster claime
Than he against her; rich in all vertues,
That make men desir'd: her narrow hand
Excludes him, unwonted to bestow
Her treasure there where an excesse of merit
Would make her gifts but seeme the pay of vertue,
Not favours of her partiall love.
Enter Acanthe the Moore.
Oh you are welcome. Here behold a Rocke
That stands the shame of the impetuous windes,
And the swolne Seas.
Mo.
Has there beene any new stormes since I went?
Her.
O yes, and more endangering songs of Syrens:
A flourishing Land propos'd, on which I might
Have shipwrackt with delight.
Mo.
I thinke I understand you.
Her.
You must needs:
It was Prince Lysicles presented in his lustre,
'Gainst whom I arm'd the vertues of my friend,
And my owne faith irresolute to whom
The victory should yeeld: at last I left
My heart, the prize, to both divided.
Mo.
To both divided?
Her.
Yes, the Prince hath the adoration of my heart,
Evgenio the love.
Mo.
What Fires, what Seas must your Evgenio passe,
To make him worthy you? me thinkes I feele
His soule sigh for a tryall of his faith.
Her.
We both have had satiety of that:
But can you bring no comfort? have the gods
Shut up their Oracles, as well as mercy?
Though they will give no ease, they might advise,
That we may put off misery by death.
Mo.
They seldome let us know what is to come,
That we may still implore their aide to helpe us:
Yet something I can tell, if hope or force
Shall make you deviate from your resolve,
You are the subject of their hate: or if
You measure your or their affection
By merit, or advantages of fortune,
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Her.
I have complain'd unjustly of the gods,
They favour me so much, they doe applaud
My resolution for Evgenio.
Merits in others, I will close my eyes
From the blest Sunne, before they shall take in
An object that may startle my firme faith.
Mo.
Be constant, and be happy, when you meet
With opposition that may shake your judgement.
Remember what affliction 'tis to weepe
A fault irrepairable, and thinke not
Reason can pacifie your fathers rage:
You must oppose your passion unto his,
And love will be victorious, being the noblest:
To morrow I will bring more certaine councell.
Exit.
Her.
Where cannot vertue dwell? what a still shade
Hath shee found out to live securely in
From the attempts of men? Come my Irene,
Though thou hast spoken treason against my love,
'Cause thine did produce it, I must thanke thee.
Let's in, and fortifie our selves with some sad tale
Of those, whose perjur'd loves have made them live
Hated, and dye most miserable.
Enter Irene and Phillida.
Ph.
If J should weepe as my Lady does, for all the
Servants I have lost?
Ir.
Thou wouldst weepe in thy grave PHILLIDA: yet the
Worst is, thou wilt lose more within this seven
Yeares, than thou hast got in ten: for men are
Changeable sweete Phillida.
Ph.
And our faces were not 'twere no matter,
They should make haste, or we she should overtake them,
Or prevent them; a commodity of beauty that
Would last forty yeares would beare a good price Madam.
Ir.
By Venus would it Phillida, as high as that of honour.
PH.
But is not my Lady a strange woman to weepe
Thus for one servant, when she has another in
His place? for my part, I could never finde such
Differences in men to be sad when I had any.
Ir.
And thy word may be taken as soone as any wenches
In Greece, or there be slanderers in the world:
But she affects constancy.
Ph.
Some ill-favour'd woman, that meant to preserve
Her last purchase which her want of beauty
Forfeited, invented that name.
Ir.
Th'art in the right Phillida, this inconstancy is
A Monster without teeth, for it devoures none,
Make no Sonne weare happy mourning, nor
Mother childlesse: and for my part, I am of
Opinion that the gods give a blessing to it, for
None live happier, than those that have greatest
Aboundance of it.
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What is got by this whining constancy, but the losse
Of that beauty for one servant, which would procure us
The Vowes, Sacrifice, and service of a thousand?
Ir.
Enough of this; wer't thou with Ergasto?
Ph.
Yes, and told him that my Lady sent for him:
But to what intent did you make me lye?
Ir.
Thou art so good natur'd, that thou wilt pardon
Such a trifle for one Reason, but I have two:
The first is, I would faine speake with him,
The other knowing my Cozen to be in an ill humour,
If he presse to see her, I hope she will give him such an answer,
That he shall never dare to speake to her more.
Ph.
These men have lesse reason than Mice, they would
Know else how to shift places, and shelter themselves
From a storme. If I were a man, and lost the happinesse
Of seeing my Mistresse two daies, I should
Lose the desire the third? Doe you sigh
Madam? you are in love too?
Ir,
As far as goes to sighing, but no dying for their breeches.
Ph.
I'le be your Compurgator for the handle of a Fan:
I know many love has brought into the world,
But let out none: has he pierc'd you, ha?
Ir.
Oh no, my skin was alwaies proofe against his Dart;
But he once found me laughing, and so thrust it
Downe to my heart.
Ph.
Looke to it, though 'tis but a little weapon, but
I have knowne it make greater swellings than
The sting of a Bee. Doe you long for a man?
Ir.
Yes, a Husbandman, and let the gods after take care
For my children.
Ph.
You'le find enow to doe it: is the Moore still with
My Lady?
Ir.
I left her with her.
Ph.
'Tis a shame such people should be suffered
Neere the Court.
Ir.
Why prethee?
Ph.
As 'tis, there be so many inquisitive Rascalls,
That we have much adoe to keepe matters secret;
But if in dispite of our care they be devulg'd,
We shall be defamed on the exchanges.
Ir.
Thou hast reason, but shee is secret as the night she resembles.
Ph.
Is she? I would faine aske her one question:
But, tis no matter, 'tis but taking Physick at the worst.
Ir.
If thou talk'st a little longer, I shall guesse as much
As she knowes: but who's here?
Ergasto, Formio, Cleon, talking at the doore.
Pho.
Ne're fright me with the lightning of her eies:
On me she may open or shut her eies as she please,
But my happinesse is not at her disposing.
30
If thou prov'st a Lover, my next Song is begun.
Pho.
I will not deny but I may love her if she please:
But if she be not pleas'd with my love, if it continue
Two Houres, I'le give her leave to tye me to her Monkey.
CL.
Looke, Ergasto has found two of the Ladies,
And has set his face to begin to them.
Pho.
In Verse, or prose?
Cl.
We shall heare, if we draw nearer: a good evening Ladies.
Ir.
We thanke you my Lords, but if we were superstitious,
Your company were no good Omen.
Ph.
Why I beseech you?
Er.
Nay, I am no Expositer; you come my Lord,
To see my Cozen Hermione?
Er.
I doe Madam,
And should be proud to heare I live in her memory.
Ir.
Can you doubt it? I'le assure you, you doe, shee's
Never troubled with any thing, but you presently
Are call'd into the comparison with it; her Teeth
Cannot ake, but she sweares it is almost as great a vexation
As your love: if any dye out of her pitty to save the teares
Of a few mourners, she wishes it were you.
Er.
If I heard her desire it, she should quickly have her wish.
Ir.
She would be glad on't o'my conscience, though
The scruple of having you doe any thing for her sake
Would trouble her a little, yet I can teach you
To make advantage of all this.
Ph.
What advantage my delicate sweet Lady?
Ir.
A very great one Sir: For first beleeve
He desires nothing more, than to be assured
She esteemes him for her Servant.
Ph.
Right; but does this usage shew it?
Ir.
Most evidently: for being thus severe to none else,
'Tis manifest she confesseth a power over him, and paies
His Services with this coine of scorne and contempt,
And having her stampe upon't, he is bound to accept it.
Cl.
What thinke you of this Phormio?
Pho.
A most excellent Girle, would she were poore.
Cl.
Why poore?
Pho.
She would live rarely by her—
Cl,
What?
Ph.
Wit, I would be a good customer.
Ir.
'Twould please you to heare with what Arguments
She justifies this cruelty, and sweares it is not
Revenge enough for spoyling her good nature.
Er.
I, her good nature.
Pho.
Nay, let her goe on, I'le hearken an Age.
Ir.
Yes, you, by suffring her undeserved scorne, have bred
Such a delight and habite of it in her, that she
Can hardly forbeare it, when she strives to be
Complaisant to her best friends; and to say truth,
We are all endangered by such as you, when we see
That frownes procure us knees, and kind usage
Scarce gets us two good morrows.
Pho.
If ever there were a Sibyll at sixteene, this Lady is one
31
Ir.
In your heart?
PHO.
Nay, dispise it not, you'le find good company there.
Ir.
But I love to be alone.
PHO.
And I would faine meete you when you are so.
Will you give me leave to speake with your Scholler?
Hermione and Acanthe above.
Ir.
If you be his friend, teach him to be wise.
PHO.
For your sake I will doe all I can: Ergasto,
Wilt thou be happy? Marry this Lady: Wilt thou be
Reveng'd on thy proud Mistresse? marry her:
Wilt thou be sure to Father, wife, children doe as I bid thee.
Er.
I will deale truely with thee; she has taken
My heart out of Hermiones keeping.
PH.
Be thankefull, and bestow it upon her in recompence:
She will accept it, doubt not; she has taken such paines
To redeeme it: looke how she casts her eies upon thee:
Shee's thine owne for ever, and has beene long.
Er.
I am desperately in love.
PH.
Marrie, and get out of it; there may be some little straining
At the first offer of the present, but if she send not for it
Before you get home, Ile ne're trust my eies more.
Phillida steales away, Cleon followes.
Er.
Ile attempt it, let what will follow.
PH.
Be confident, and prosper.
Er.
Madam, what would you expect from him
You had redeem'd from captivity?
Ir.
The disposing of his liberty.
Er.
'Tis just, but this may be no great favour to the slave,
If his misery be onely altred, not lessen'd.
PH.
You are little curious; why doe you aske who
This concernes? well, I'le tell you, you have redeem'd
Ergasto, and he kneeles to know your commands.
Whil'st he kneeles, Hermione and the Moore looke downe from the window.
Mo.
You may beleeve her Madam, she loves him,
Now you may revenge her, perswading you to leave
Evgenio, by smiling on Ergasto; 'twill advance
Your Cozens ends too, if you doe as I'le advise you, whilst we descend.
Ir.
'Tis festivall today my Lords, and so I admit
This mirth: but tomorrow I will tell you, I am no more
Inclin'd to love than my Cozen Hermione.
Er.
But you can suffer your selfe to be belov'd?
Ir.
I thinke I can.
PH.
He'le aske no more,
But leave the rest to his respects and services.
Ir.
But you consider not whom you may offend in this mirth.
Er.
I'le ne're consider whom I offend in loving you:
I wish her beauty centupled, that my first Obligation
To you might be, leaving her: by this faire hand
I'le never name any but you for Mistresse.
Ir.
I may beleeve you, when Time and your actions
Shall tell it me as well as your words.
PHO.
You wrong your beauty, to expect an assurance
32
The Impressions they make: yours strikes like lightning,
In an instant; if he did not adore you till now,
You must attribute it to some fascination:
But his judgment clear'd, he will be forc'd
To continue the adoration he has begun.
Enter Hermione, Moore, Phillida, Cleon, they find Ergasto kneeling.
Pho.
Who's that?
Er.
The Moore you heard of.
Pho.
I have a strange Capriccio of love enter'd me:
I must Court that shade.
Her.
How now my Lord,
Courting another Mistresse? I see I must locke up my winds,
Or you will seeke the nearest harbour.
Er.
Excluded by your rigour, Madam, I was intreating
Your foire Cozen to present my vowes.
Her.
Was it no more?
Er.
No more, you cannot doubt it Madam, turne in
Your eyes upon your beauties and perfections, and they
Will tell you, how impossible it is to lose the Empire
They have gain'd upon our hearts and wills:
Fortune and want of merit may make me lose
The hope of your faire graces, but nover so much Traitor,
As to pay homage to any other beauty, or change
The resolution I have fix'd to be your servant onely.
Her.
I thanke you Sir: my Sexe will be my pardon
If I returne not equall thankes; we thinke if any
Manumit before we license them to part,
They doe usurpe a power is ours by nature: the posture
I found you in, was more than ordinary courtship gives.
Er.
You might condemne it, had not you beene the
Cause on't: I never thinke your Name, but with
A Reverence great as I pay the gods; and they
Allow us bending to their Images when we
Transferre our vowes: The faire Irene is worthy all,
Have not the hope of you, but whilst you give me leave
To cherish that ambition; I must not owne
So great an injury, as to admit the profer'd love of those
Who are so distant from your merit.
Her.
'Twas unkindly done to undermine me.
Er.
In her presence I will confirme this to you.
Her.
You shall oblige me since she has wrong'd me:
Irene harke you.
They talke in private.
After a long whisper, the Moore strives to goe from Phormio, he holds her.
Pho.
In the name of darknesse, d'ee thinke I am not
In earnest, that you coy it thus?
Mo.
Forbeare uncivill Lord.
She goes from him.
Cl.
Do'st thou not see that all the fire is out of the coale?
If thou would'st have it burne, lay thy lips
To the sparke that's left, and blow it into flame.
33
What wouldst thou have me doe?
Cl.
Kisse her.
PH.
Not for five hundred Crownes.
Cl.
Wouldst lye with her, and not kisse her?
PH.
Yes, and can give reasons for't besides experience,
And when this act is knowne, this resolute
Incounter, rich widdowes of threescore will
Not doubt my prowesse.
Hermione, Irene, Ergasto breake off their private talke
Ir.
As I live he swore all this to me.
He.
Hide thee inconstant man, thou art so false
Thy oathes doe serve thee for no other use
But to condemne thee, not to get beleefe:
Be gone, and leave to love, till thou hast found
The way to truth, and let not vanity cozen you
To beleeve that I am mov'd, because you change.
A thousand other imperfections
Have made me hate thee: yet I chose this way
To let thee know't, that deprehended with the
Blacke marke upon thee, thou maist not dare.
To trouble me againe.
Er.
Madam.
He.
There may be some, that for their secret sinnes
The gods will punish making them love you,
Chuse amongst them, Irene, I will hope, though she
Be credulous, will learne by this, how far 'tis safe to trust you.
Mo.
This was well manag'd.
PH.
What Mountaine
Have you pierc'd, that hath sent forth this wind since I left you?
Er.
I have undone my selfe for ever.
Ph.
As how?
Er.
I told Hermione I never lov'd Irene.
Cl.
Did she heare it?
Er.
Oh yes, it mought have beene forsworne else.
Cl.
The Divell thou hast?
Er.
Aske him, he made me do't.
Cl.
What course will you take to redeeme your fault?
Er.
A precipice, as being asham'd to live any longer.
PH,
A halter you shall as soone: come, come, Ile intercede
And be your surety: Looke, she staies to pardon
You; downe on your knees.
She goes away, Phormio puls her backe, Ergasto kneeles, holds up his hands, his cloake over his face.
PH.
Oh my sweet Lady, be mercifull like the gods you resemble;
they have as often pardon in their hands as Thunder:
And the truth is, if they will not forgive this fault of inconstancy,
they must live alone, or at least without men. This was
the last gaspe of his dying friendship to her,
And now he is entirely yours.
Ir.
He has not wrong'd me.
PH.
Fie, say not so, that's as great an injurie as not
Pardoning him: he has, and shall come naked
34
For comfort, let him take it in at his eares.
Ir.
Pray content your selfe with the time you have
Made me lose, and let me goe.
Ph.
Never till you pardon him.
Ir.
I will doe any thing for my release, if he has
Offended me, let him learne hereafter to
Speake truer than he sweares; and in time
He may get credit.
Ph.
'Tis enough.
Er.
Is she gone?
Ph.
Yes.
Er.
How did she looke?
Ph.
Faith asham'd, she lov'd you so well, and sorry she
Had no reason to love you better.
Ph.
'Tis an excellent Lady.
Ph.
If I could make Joynters, I would not take this
Paines for your honour. Cleon whither slip you?
Cl.
After Phillida.
PH.
And what successe?
Cl.
Pox on't, these waiting women will not deale unlesse
They have earnest in their hands, and I was unprovided.
PH.
Away unthrift.
Exeunt.
| The Lost Lady | |