 | The Fair Favorite |  |
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Enter Saladine, Aleran, Thorello.Aleran.
Troth thou art now a pretty toy of state,
Art grown as Grave, and hast as great a share
Of business in thy looks, as an old Legate
Sent to a Land of Hereticks; Ambassadors
Of Spain compar'd to thee, are meer French posts,
Dispatch'd with love Letters from th'army to
The Court. O, the excellency of travel!
Salad.
Right, Aleran! Mark, but how much it perfecteth
Your very Ape
Ere he hath travel'd, alass! What is he,
Rude and unqualifi'd? but having once
Seen Countreys, gone from Town to Town, he strait
Accepts your Pippin,
Kissing his Hairy hand, most Monsieur like.
Aler.
Good Faith, and that is very much!
Salad.
Nay more! He rides
And manages your English Mastiff (Sir)
As he had lain in Pension for't at Paris.
Thor.
Signiors! You have very passible wits
O'th' Queens side here? Sure they are employ'd too,
When part'clar pleasures have call'd aside
The nobler spirits, and left you necessary
To the Ladies. What! you read Alciods Emblems
To 'em, and the Fables of Æsop in
Your elegant Mother tongue.
Sal.
O, ever Sir, upon long Winter nights,
Thor.
And on my Conscience they believe those Tales
For true, whilst you put off the old Morals,
As fine new observations of your own.
Sal.
'Faith like enough.
We have the pretti'st things in Petty-coats.
Sirrah! They'll admire thee,
And 'twill be held a sov'raign sign of luck,
That thou and the King arrive here together
In one day; thou from thy travels, he from
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In France, will be no less valu'd then his
Victories on the Coast of Sicily.
Thor.
Youth, and success in your Amours hath made
You as wanton, as Maids at midnight with their Lovers are.
Flourish.
—Hark! The King,
Remove, and borrow gravity a while.
Enter Phylenio, King, Radegond, Soldiers of his Train.
Phyle.
Y'arrive so early Sir, that you will find
The Queen a sleep? If she can ever rest,
Whose careful fears, both for your safety and
Return, have lessen'd much her health.
Radeg.
And this is worthy of your pity Sir,
To find a Lady of her youth,
So earnest to destroy her beauty
In seeking to deserve your love.
King.
Advise her Radegond to love me less.
Radeg.
Love you less. That were to kill her, Sir.
King.
Would thou couldst help me to another heart?
Nature, allows but one, though to a King.
And it were cruelty, not kindness to
Exact more love from that, then it can give.
Enter Queen, and two Ladies.
Phyle.
See where she comes! Already she hath learn'd
You are arriv'd, the spies of Love are swift
And universal, as the Beams of Light. Look on
Her Sir, with gracious eyes—
Queen.
My joys are more then I can hide For I
Have liv'd to see my vows grow prosperous.
How shall we welcome you enough with praise,
Since you have brought home peace, and fame, Left death
And black dishonor with your enemies.
King.
Madam, I thank you as I ought! How bless'd
Had we been, if he that made such haste to joyn
Our hands, had staid till he had got the skill
To joyn our hearts? But he was more a Statesman then
A Priest, and married Provinces, not us.
Queen.
Alass! This is a little sudden Sir!
'Tis like a Morn o'er cast with Clouds, ere Men
May say the day doth break, no sooner can
I boast my joys of seeing you, but I must
Become your sorrow, and
My punishment. How vainly do I wish,
That like your better Angel, I could wait
About you still, and be invisible to you;
That I might ever serve you Sir,
And never be discern'd.
King.
Would you had all your wishes (Madam) and I
(If it were fit to ask'd of Heaven) had mine.
But since we are so cruelly proscrib'd,
Let's strive to mitigate our sufferings,
By making still our visits few, and short;
For we can never meet, but we must mourn.
And you are wise, to know our sorrows ill
Become the triumphs of this day.
Queen.
You are too quickly weary of our griefs,
I could endure 'em longer Sir, so I
Might tarry here: But 'tis as hard for me
To disobey your will, as hinder fate.
King.
Be kind then to your self; you may possess
That happiness alone, which we
Together never can enjoy—
Queen.
The Peace, which by your valor you have brought
Your people home, increase within your Brest,
And (as in War) so may you prove victorious
(Though at my charge) in all the love you make.
He leads her to the door.
Thor.
Look Saladine! The King may well be held
The cheif of his Profession (a grand Courtier)
For I ne'er saw so much Ceremony
With so little love.
Salad.
It is your new
Court-Justice now? They ever pay the want
Of their affection to their Wives, with over-much
Civility, but 'tis in publick Sir, at home
They think it too much pains.
King.
Unarm me Radegond.
And now, I would thou couldst un-King me too?
Radeg.
How Sir?
King.
Phylenio, I am sure,
Thou dost not love the King, had I
No title left, I should have friends. Why must
I struggle then beneath this load.
Phyle.
This melancholly Sir, is treason 'gainst
Your self; and such, as if we durst, we would
Rebuke.
King.
Of what a false,
And consuming composition am I made,
Resolv'd by all most absolute, yet not
So free, as he, that daily fights for food.
You are happy, for you are subjects still.
Radeg.
Your subjects Sir, and that we justly may
Esteem our happiness.
King.
O, you are wise,
And constant to your selves, had you but any share
Of love for me, you would un-King me strait,
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Phyle.
A Monster Sir! We understand you not.
King.
What am I else, that still beneath
Two Bodies groan; the Natural and the Politick?
By force compounded of most diff'rent things.
How wearisom, and how unlucky is
The essence of a King, gentle, yet by
Constraint severe; just in our Nature, yet
We must dissemble; our very Vertues are
Taken from us, onely t'augment our sway?
Radeg.
Your judgment is too cruel of your self.
King.
In what's our pitty, or our kindness more
Express'd, then when we father other's crimes.
As if it were a great Prerogative
To make the guilty safe. Our wealth serves but
To keep Mens hopes in pay; onely happy
When we can purchase friends, because they share
And ease the glorious torment of our power.
Enter Eumena and Gartha.
Phyle.
The burden of your thoughts will now grow light,
Behold the fair Eumena, Sir.
King.
Hail vertuous Maid! Why my Eumena, did
I strive for Victories abroad, when all
My Conquests there, could never recompence
My absence from that beauty which I left
At home. 'Tis true, that I have done such deeds,
As Fame her self shall chuse, even for the last
Great story that must fill her Book. The aged
And the young
Have had sufficient cause to curse thy coldnels
In love; for hadst thou kept me here, they still
Had been alive.
Eume.
Could my obedience pay
The debt we ow your valor (Sir) thus I
Would kneel, till I grew old, so long
You should not know me when I rise.
He takes her up.
King.
Eumena, this becomes thee not; for love
Hath made us equal, and how poor a thing
Is Majesty, compar'd to mighty love?
Eume.
The changes of my fortune, Sir,
Have made me now so wise, I dare not trust
Too much to happiness, whose danger comes
From its excess, the joys you bring are so
Extream, they needs must suffer an allay.
Already I have found it too; for as
I hastned hither to behold the true
Success of all my Horisons (your safety and
Return) I met beneath the Cypress shade
That borders near the Garden Rivolet.
Your beauteous Queen, but sad, and mourning like
A Virgin at her lovers Tomb, even she
(That is so fair and good) I saw
Thus newly ruin'd by your frowns.
King.
The poor Hermit that nightly is assur'd
By visions in his sleep, fasting all day
With zealous hope of nourishment from Heaven.
The young unpractis'd child, that hath not yet
Out grown his native Innocence, hath skill
To shape disguises for his thoughts, as much
As I, I cannot hide the anger of
My grief, and all th'observing world,
Can witness it is just; though 'tis as sad
A truth, that she is guiltless of the cause.
Eume.
You make a brave confession Sir. Yet where
There is no guilt, your least unkindness seems
Too great a punishment.
King.
But I have heard, during my forc'd
Unwilling absence from thee, in this last
Sicilian War, she us'd thy tenderness,
As if her jealousie had practis'd a
Revenge in Envy of my noble Love.
Eume.
Forgive my anger Sir,
They are as false, as Men that cheaply swear
For hire; who thus have wrong'd your royal Ear
With forged whispers; in dull hope to win
My favor by officious wicked courtesie.
King.
Thou art so full of truth, I must
Believe thee 'gainst thy self. Go Radegond
And let the Queen know I am penitent;
Fall at her feet, and sigh in my behalf,
Until thou findst my pardon in her eyes.
Exeunt King, Eumena, Radegond, Phyleno.
Thor.
Gentlemen, may a man without suspition
Of treason, think a little odly of the King,
Having a vertuous Lady to his wife,
Must he needs get a Mistress? But you'll say
This Mistress is surpassing vertuous too.
Let that be granted; yet—
Salad.
Disclose your meaning Sir?
Thor.
Faith Saladine, I mean to ask, Why he
Allows his wife the lesser share of's heart,
Or rather none at all. 'Tis such a royal
Ridle? Well, the Devil is in't, and I
Suppose at least ten Devils more; for less
(Signiors) cannot suffice this Court.
Salad.
Thorello, thou art a right traveller,
An old acquaintance in every Town
Abroad, and a new stranger still at home.
Aler.
Instruct him, 'tis a raw youth, but he will learn.
Salad.
Long ere our King was marry'd, know he was
Most fervently in love with fair Eumena,
And yet our Politicians to joyn Otranto to
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Of our sad Queen) did force him to this Match.
Thor.
Could he be wrought to wed a Princess for
Dull humane ends, when's love was formerly
Engag'd. Where are the old Arcadian lovers?
Aler.
Why? In their Graves, where they sleep quietly.
Thor.
Had I but once made love, though to a poor
Inheritrix of thirteen Pistolets a year,
The Queen Dowager of China should not
Remove my sute, Signior, I pray proceed.
Salad.
I soon shall vindicate the King, for (Sir)
These subtle managers of his affairs, before
They treated with him for the Queen, surpris'd
Eumena from his sight; proclaim'd her dead.
And more to cozen his belief, did celebrate
Her Funerals with much solemnity
Through Naples here. Eumena all this time
Closely immur'd, some two years after they
Did work his sorrows to give way unto
Necessities of state, so perfected
This marriage with the Queen.
Thor.
And during this Eumena ne'er was heard of.
Salad.
She was most carefully conceal'd, and at
The Nuptial Feast presented to his sight.
Thor.
So suddenly retriev'd!
Salad.
Your Polititians
Have ever more a taint of vanity,
As hasty still to show, and boast a Plot,
As they are greedy to contriv't; but he
Requites the falshood of their care with banishment.
Though marry'd, yet refus'd to Bed the Queen,
And to Eumena strait renews his love.
Thor.
You have untied the knot.
Salad.
'Tis a full Court,
Let's hasten to the Privy Gallery,
And whisper there a while; for so
We may be ta'en for Cabinet Statesmen,
And at least be held secret, if not wise.
Exeunt.
Enter Oramont and Gartha.
Gar.
My sute will meet much danger in delay,
I gave my Lady this (Sir) in her ear;
But she reply'd, I'm busie with the King.
Ora.
Hah! Busie with the King, that sounds not well!
Go back! Say my affair concerns her life.
Gar.
I will attempt to tell her so.
Exit.
Ora.
She is become the peoples secret scorn,
Yet from the earliest dawning of her eyes,
From the first budding of her beauty she
Was bred, withal those bashful fears that guard
A Virgins innocence; but who can be
Secure in Court, where every tempter
Looks so full of power,
As if he could forgive more crimes
Then's leisure suffers him to act, and not
To yield to Kings desires (although unjust)
Is disobedience here, not vertue stil'd.
His message makes me wonder; yet if
There were no other cause of fear, but guilt,
I should enough of courage find, to dare
All danger, but what comes from Heaven.
Enter Eumena.
Ora.
Can you find nothing (Lady)
In this face, that may direct
You to remember it.
Eume.
My brother Oramont! That you are he appears too unprepar'd
A truth, to be so suddenly believ'd.
He steps a little back.
Do not distrust my joys, because they come
In tears thus through mine eyes, from whence our griefs
Spring forth. My heart, were not the gates too narrow,
Would sally out the self-same way to meet you.
Ora.
Hath she a stock of tears for joys, and such
A debt of them to pay unto her sins,
'Twere easier to believe her innocent.
Eume.
Why seem you so reserv'd? Why will you wear
A gravity, that doth as ill become
This meeting as your years?
Ora.
I am a prisoner,
Though for a little space my bonds are off.
Eume.
How Oramont!
Ora.
The King hath brought
Home victory from the Sicilian War.
But our attempt upon the Tuscan Camp,
Was bloodily repuls'd.
Eume.
This he hath heard,
Yet 'tis a loss he mentions with neglect;
For his intelligence believ'd you safe,
And marching bither with's remaining Troops.
Ora.
Fame like a cunning Faulcon falsifies
Her flight. Know by the treason of our Scouts
I was surpris'd, weakned with many wounds;
Those pitious Heaven, hath favor'd with a happy cure,
But th'avaricious enemy impos'd
Upon my liberty, the ransom of
Two hundred thousand Crowns; the value was
No less, they laid upon my gen'rous faith,
Since they have trusted me to visit thus
My native soil, and ta'en my word
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One Moon, or else to pay that mighty sum.
Eume.
It is a mighty sum indeed!
Ora.
Such (sister) as our Ancestors ne'er knew
But by report; nor can I think they would
Have laid so vaste a rate, on worthless me;
Had they not heard your greatness here in Court.
Eume.
Can such a trivial grief as this, contract
Those wrincles on your brow, and make you old
Ere time hath perfected your youth; would they
Had doubled what they have impos'd, that I
Might yield a worthier tryal of my love.
Ora.
Eumena, do you know what you desire—
Eume.
Here Sir, take this. It doth contain in Jewels,
She reaches a Cabinet.
Enough to ransome you as of't, as Fortune can
Betray you to the Fo: Take it, and pay
Those Fools of Tuscany, that had not skill
To lay a greater price on Oramont.
You are my Brother Sir, a title which
Includes all that my judging love calls wealth.
Ora.
Are you so rich! Eumena you have found
He takes the Cabinet.
A bounteous Master of the King, I dare
Not call him yet your lover, that would wound
My ear as much as yours; although I know
A Maidens tenderness is struck, even with
The nicest injury of words.
Eume.
But were the King a lover (Sir) I can
Not think that word would injure me.
Ora.
Are you so well
Resolv'd? Take heed frail Maid. And Heaven! Take heed
Of me. If ever yet her Blood hath been
Defil'd, make choice of one that is no kin
Unto the purer part of it, to let
Out the impure, I would not punish her.
Eume.
What mean you Oramont? How were I bless'd,
Could I no more resent those cruel words
Then Heaven, to whom you utter them in vain.
Ora.
Take back your precious trifles, and repent
Your treasure is so strangely got; that 'tis not fit
For noble minds to use it, though they want.
Eume.
Strike me with stupid dulness you kind powers,
That in excessive wonder I may fail
To understand the meaning of his speech.
Ora.
Away! O flie! Fly from the Court thou young
And silly Sophister in Arts of State.
The Favorites of Kings are chosen but
To own, and wear their Masters worser sins;
And what a load thou wilt be caught to bear,
When his (oppressing thee) must needs be laid
Upon as great a burden of thine own.
Eume.
Thou cruel, and suspitious Oramont,
Whither is all thy vertue gone? I ne'er
Believ'd, I could be angry until now,
My heart rebels within my Brest, and chides me
For every tear I shed, as if on thee
My pitty were mispent; yet 'cause thou wert
My Brother once, I would not have it said
I left thee in captivity, Procure
Thy freedom with this wealth—For misery
Doth seldom mend, but makes the wicked worse.
Ora.
I rather will return, my bonds
Still wear, as gaudy Bracelets on my Wrists;
In a dark Dungeon sit, there mourn thy loss,
And curse that treacherous fate, which first did bring
Thy luckless Beauty to the tempting King.
Exeunt.
| The Fair Favorite | |