 | The Fair Favorite |  |
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter Oramont, Thorello, Saladine, and Aleran.Oramont.
You can instruct me Sir, I have a suit
Unto the King, and would attend where I
May stand within the level of his eye.
Take's he this way, in's passage from the Park?
Thor.
'Tis not in's pow'r t'avoid you Sir, if you
Stay here; but in our judgments, that have got
The bold ambition to be stil'd your friends,
'Twere fitter (noble Oramont) men of
Your early vertue, and still growing worth,
Should have the fortune rather to command,
Then wait among the common croud.
Ora.
You grace me with your kind opinion Sir;
But we must rest contented with our Stars.
Could we attain the pow'r to pick and chuse
I'th' Firmament; he that created them
And us, would lose his eminence on Earth,
For we should make a God of ev'ry poor Astronomer.
Salad.
'Tis Piety to wish
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Affect to wear your vertues in the dark.
Aler.
My Lord, we need you here in Court, and are
Not ignorant, that you may make what choice
You please in your desires.
Ora.
Alass, I want
The skill how to grow great, the patience to
Permit those wrongs, which they that rise
Must not alone endure, but praise.
Thorello, you have travel'd long, d'ye find
No change i'th' Court, since your return?
Thor.
Faith Sir, not much, now, as before, the steps
To high command (like such as up to Steeples reach)
Are worn a little with the num'rous tred
Of fools, that climb to gaze upon the top.
Therefore, 'tis harder to ascend, then if
The number of those men that press to rise
Were few; but 'tis the same way still, though
(As I said) the steps must be uneasie, 'cause
Th'are overworn.
Ora.
I want good parts; my head's to light t'ascend.
Salad.
O take't on my experience Sir, you should
Not load your shoulders with a weighty headpiece, when
You mean to mount, the greatest will be thought
The wisest still: Therefore they seldom lend
A hand, to lift a wiser then themselves.
Besides a little head may weigh enough,
When cozening Fortune holds the Scale, which she
Hath ever done in Court.
Thor.
Little intelligences of little things,
Will serve for universal knowledge here;
If whisper'd often with a travel'd face.
Aler.
And then, an inward safe content we all
Injoy, since every one believes he hath
Enough to be above others, 'cause he hath learn'd
How to contemn 'em.
Thor.
Nor is
There danger Sir, in enemies; for though
Each Table feeds a sev'ral faction here,
Where they despise the absent still as heartily,
As they do eat; yet in the Presence-Chamber
The Opposites can smile, laugh, and embrace
Like Neighbors, that were newly met
Upon a Foreign Coast.
Ora.
Your observations much encourage me.
The King! I pray remove a while.
Enter King, Phylenio, and Radegond.
King.
Is that young Oramont?
Radeg.
It is: And I believe he means t'address
Himself to your compassion Sir.
Phyle.
He wears his troubles handsomely.
King.
Leave us, and bid the rest avoid the place.
Exeunt.
Manent King, Oramont.
Come hither Oramont, you carry in
Your looks a discontent, which shews not grief
Alone, but anger too. I shall admire
Your courage, if it points at me.
Ora.
Far be it from that humble low degree
In which my duty ranks me with
My King, that I should cherish grief till it
Grow up to anger Sir; so I might turn
The vertue of that sorrow into sin.
King.
Young Soldier, you are strangely wise, and have
Already got the providence, not to
Permit your tongue betray your thoughts, but I
Am pleas'd when you are safe; if your
Attendance here imply a suit, give it a name.
Ora.
'Tis call'd my Ransom, Sir; a debt
Which Fortune, not my Error, throws on you.
I lost my precious Liberty on an
Unlucky day, when I was active in
Your service, and 'tis just you now redeem't.
King.
Be taught the art of thriving in the Court;
Reserve my favor for a higher use, although
This tax upon your Liberty be large,
My bounty may exceed it far; which I would keep
To make you wealthy, not your enemies.
Ora.
I value freedom Sir, above all wealth.
King.
Do so: But let your sister purchase it.
Such kindness to a Brother, may advance
Her nature much to popular esteem;
Which I endeavor, for I love her well.
Ora.
'Twere better she had lov'd her self.
King.
Hah! Give me your meaning!
Ora.
It is not worth your taking, and I think
My sisters treasure of less value then
My thoughts. 'Lass! How should she get riches, Sir?
King.
Dost doubt I am not lib'ral where I love?
Ora.
It were a lasting happiness for her,
If my suspitions did no more concern
Your love, then liberality.
King.
Away thou jealous fool.
Ora.
My Honor is engag'd for payment of
Two hundred thousand Crowns, or to resign
My self, to everlasting bonds. Shall I
Return?
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Thy honor Oramont is forfeited
Already in thy jealousie. If thou
Hast any valor left, return and die.
Exit.
Ora.
What strange divinity is that, which guards
These Kings (the lawful terrors of mankind)
Keeps them as safe from punishment, when they
Oppress the tame and good, as it secures
Them from the treachery of the fierce, and bad.
Be safe then (cruel Monarch) since still hid
Within thy dark prerogative, which is
Divine indeed: For 'tis most fear'd, because
It least is understood, I will submit
Unto my bonds, and keep my honor free.
Enter Amadore disguis'd, with a Warrant seal'd.
Amad.
Health and renown to Oramont!
Ora.
You greet me with a lib'ral wish, your haste
Would be consider'd too, next to your love.
Amad.
In thy pursuit I have been swift
As falling Torrents, or th'Arabian from
A Battel lost; the Tuscan Gen'rals son
(Young Amadore) salutes thee from his heart;
And thus presents thy freedom sign'd—
Gives a Paper Seal'd.
By's Fathers hand; thy Ransom is forgiven.
Ora.
Though Amadore be noble, and bestow'd
His courteous visits on me, when my wounds
Were large, and I was hopeless of their cure;
Yet this is such a wondrous bounty, as
Requires as much of faith to make it be
Believ'd, as gratitude to see it paid.
Amad.
Take thy assurance, and thy friend together.
Pulls off his disguise, and embraces him.
Ora.
The Roman race of Men, sure is not yet
Extinct in Italy, I hold within
Mine arms, the Heir, and never fading Branch
O'th' noblest stock. Make me as worthy (Heaven)
As I am glad for what I have receiv'd.
Amad.
Couldst thou believe I would permit soft sleep
To hover o'er my Fathers eyes, till he
Had seal'd thy Liberty. Alass! Why should
The valiant, to the valiant, be unkind,
Pursuing anger more then cruel Beasts:
For in their hungry quarrels they inflict
No bondage, where th'are weary to devour.
Ora.
I have more happiness, then I can well
Contain, unless I waste it in a boast;
For now I shall not need to be oblig'd
Unto my Sister, or the King.
Amad.
In mighty minds, the pleasure's more sublime
To give, then to possess, freely like Clouds
That uninvited still their treasure shed
In plenteous showers.
Oramont draws his Sword.
Ora.
Joyn now thy noble hand
To mine, and let us vow a friendship here,
More lasting then our selves; for that may live
With our immortal parts. Danger, henceforth
Be it in vertuous glory, or in just
Revenge, we equally will share.
Amad.
It is confirm'd.
They kiss the Hilts.
I shall not need to serve you in disguise;
For this Commission will authorise me
Here to reside in Treaty from
The Army, and the Tuscan State.
Ora.
'Twas luckily contriv'd,
Fair Favorite; my Sister in thy name,
Not blood, take heed; although
Intrench'd i'th' arms of the lascivious King,
The windy tempest doth begin to swell,
The Taper of thy life, now I have joyn'd
The fury of anothers breath to mine,
Must be blown out, unless it clearer shine.
Exeunt.
Enter Queen, Thorello, Saladine.
Queen.
Saw you the King so harsh to Oramont.
Thor.
If 'twere no error in my loyalty
To censure him, I should profess he was
More rigid, then became his nature in
The first encounter of a servant, so
Approv'd by general consent.
Queen.
Indeed, though's last success i'th' Tuscan War
Shews him unfortunate, yet he hath gain'd
Fame from his enemies, and hath more fame
Then usually belongs unto his years.
Salad.
Most certain, Madam, 'tis an envy'd truth
That's Fame wears many Wings upon her feet,
For she hath much out-gone his time.
Queen.
Did he refuse to Ransom him, as if
He grounded his denial on the last
Defeat?
Thor.
We stood not in the reach of their
Discourse, but that it was deny'd, we both
Are well assur'd, and have some cause to fear,
That Oramont looks on his Sister with
Suspitious eyes.
Queen.
Such doubts are dangerous;
Try if you singly can get him hither,
I gladly would confer with him alone.
Thor.
Let's hasten to the Tarras walk.
Exeunt Thorello, Saladine.
Queen.
How greedily at Court, knowledge doth still
On others secrets feed, though 'tis too false,
Too nice a nourishment, and shews her appetite
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She hastily devour'd. Alass! What need
My knowledge taste anothers private grief,
When secret sorrow is her daily food?
But here each man his forward duty pays
In needless whispers to his Prince, and thinks
He merits by revealing what he should
Conceal—.
Enter Oramont.
Ora.
O cruel King! How couldst thou wrong
Such vertue, and such beauty too? Were it
My crime, Angels, and Men might laugh, when they
Should hear my groans in Hell; yet not be tax'd
For want of fit compassion—
Queen.
He brings his sisters eyes! Their influence
(I hope) will not so fatal prove to me.
Ora.
I am commanded to attend your Grace.
Queen.
Sir, though mine own calamities stand in
Continual use of pity and redress,
Yet I neglect them now to comfort you.
Ora.
Madam, such holy kindness can but add
To my undoing; for you then will lay
Too great a debt upon the conscience of
The poor.
Queen.
The King (sad Oramont) is much
To blame; but we like good Physitians must
Forbear to make our Medicines violent,
And not apply them, whilst his Feaver holds
The raging fit.
Ora.
You wisely may suspect
My patience; but shall ne'er have cause to doubt
My loyalty.
Queen.
You must take care of both;
And that you may perceive how gladly I
Would have you prosperous, I will dispatch
Urselli strait to Venice, and discharge
Your Ransom, from that Bank my Father left,
Protected by the Senate for my use.
Ora.
Can there be still such goodness in the Sex,
And yet Eumena false. Thus on my knee
I pay my wonder and my gratitude,
'Tis for a bounty that can ne'er be equal'd, till
Your self shall find another in distress.
Queen.
Rise Sir, and fetch Urselli hither.
Ora.
No Beauteous Excellence, this yet restores
Me to some kind opinion of my Stars,
I shall not need to use your Princely gift,
Till I grow worthier to receiv't: This day
My Ransom was releas'd, and sent me from
The Tuscan General.
Queen.
Thy joys are newly budding, Oramont,
But time will quickly make them ripe, tell me,
(And by thy love to truth) canst thou receive
Such blessings from a cruel enemy,
And to thy sister be unkind.
Ora.
Madam, it seems you know too much, it would more help
The quiet of your sleeps, if you dismiss'd
Your thoughts, and could be ignorant
In others ills, as Heaven is of your own,
'Tis such a wish, (if not too vainly made)
As I would covet for my self.
Queen.
The King, and then your Sister, Oramont;
Two bonds upon your duty, and your love,
Which you must never forfeit Sir; nor can
They e'er be cancel'd, but by nature, when you die.
Ora.
Good night unto your Grace, may it be long
Ere th'Angels call you hence; were such a great
Example of fair virtue gone, what would
Become of your remaining Sex?
Queen.
'Lass! I perceive no words, although contriv'd
In charms, can soon allay the mutiny
Of thoughts: I'll cease to trouble you in vain,
Yet be assur'd, that I believe those doubts
(Upon your Sister urg'd) as much
Injurious unto her, as they will prove
Unsafe to you, good night unhappy Oramont.
Exit.
Ora.
How have they fool'd this righteous Lady to
A simple, self-abusing Faith! That she
Forgives with credulous consent, the arts
And falshood of her Rivals love, no less
Inspires my rage, then doth her beauty or
Her bounteous heart; though my revenge were dull,
And such as noble Justice could not move,
'Twould now take fiery motion from my love.
Exit.
Enter Eumena, under a Canopy. Boy that sings: A Taper and Book, Cabinet, Cushionet.
Eume.
Sing me that air Renaldo sent to Grittiline,
It is a Song of Jealousie.
The Song, which ended.
Enter Gartha with a Letter.
Gartha, in Errands you are ever slow!
Were but your feet as nimble as your tongue,
My business would have quick dispatch.
Gar.
Madam, we have been laughing and shreeking
In the Lobby.
Eume.
Shreeking! At what?
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At Cavaliers
That start upon us in the dark, like Tumblers in
A Warren at their Game, your Ladiship
Will spoil your self with melancholly Songs
And Books; you'll grow as grave as an old Abbess?
Eume.
Y'are very pleasant; What Letter's that?
Gar.
The Queen hath sent it to your Ladiship.
Eume.
A Letter from the Queen! It is her Character!
Reads.
Your Brother Oramont is free, his enemies
Releas'd him; if then
His foes find him so worthy of
Their care, why should you want the pow'r to raise him
With the King? He hath a great
And daring heart, I wish (Eumena)
It were as little vex'd, and troubled at
Your loves, as mine hath been—Go gentle youth.
Exit Boy.
Gar.
Why, Madam, do you weep?
Eume.
I prethee Gartha leave me too, I shall
Have company enough, though left but with my thoughts.
Exit Gartha.
In all those Tragick Tales (of which, Loves History
Is full) no Virgin can be found, whose fate
May equal mine; I am belov'd, where I
Not dare to love, and yet not dare to hate;
Forc'd to do wrong, yet I not guilty of
The doing of it; and 'gainst a Queen,
Whose goodness works in such extreams, as it
Betrays her own felicity, that it
May add a safe continuance to mine.
Enter King.
King.
Light of my Soul, my Hearts refined part,
Of which, my better thoughts are form'd! Why dost
Thou weep? why like Distilling Roses waste,
Dissolving thus thy sweetness to a Dew?
Eumena, speak!
Eume.
Give me your leave
To be offended Sir. Can you that cause
My sorrows, wonder at my tears? Why will
You force your visits on me in the nights
Suspitious hours? making your Kingly pow'r
Shew tyrannous, where you would seem most kind,
Discolouring the beauty of my Fame,
Till she turn black, and all the strictly chaste,
Gaze on her now with pity, and with fear?
King.
Who is't hath frighted thus thy Innocence?
Makes thee entertain my vertuous love
And amm'rously?
Thus tim'rously?
Emue.
'Tis equal sure
To have no Honor, and to have the World
Believe that it is lost. Honor's a rich,
A glorious upper Vestment, which we wear
To please the lookers on; as well as to
Delight our selves.
King.
Honor's a word, the issue of the voice.
Eume.
The voice, Sir, was ordain'd to satisfie
And fill the ears of others, not our own.
King.
Where is the courage of thy vertue fled?
When valiant with thine own integrity,
Thou didst resolve to slight opinion, as
The vulgar doom. Oft hast thou said, Honor
Doth dwell within, and cannot live abroad.
For like extracted spirits, in
A Viol shut, it keeps its vigor whil'st
'Tis close retain'd; but when dispers'd and mix'd
With open air, the vertue so evaporates,
That all its value is for ever lost.
Eume.
O that the World cou'd be instructed thus!
But the severe mistake on Womens honors,
Must last like other heresies, and be
Too strong for Truth, or Reasons force, because
'Tis popular and old.
King.
We all delight
In fair well-looking Fame, but should we dress
Her face in every various Glass, which fond
Opinion makes; the World would quarrel strait,
For sev'ral judgments of her shape, and she
As seldom gain the publick vote, as ours.
Eume.
I feel a mutiny within my Brest,
But why should others thoughts disorder mine?
King.
Neglect those cruel men that injure thee
With doubts, and take a pitious care of me.
Sustain that love, whose diet is thy looks;
If banish'd from thy sight, 'twould starve for
Want of nourishment. Love is a mighty Prince,
And keeps his Revels, when the Sun is hid.
Shouldst thou in sullen fear of jealous fools,
Forbid great Love these visits in the night,
It might be said, Thou but penuriously
Dost feed that Monarch, whom thou ought'st to feast.
Eume.
No more: I will resign my sorrow (Sir)
To those that are possest, with guilt enough
Still to maintain, and make it last:
And were it not an injury to her,
That claims by sacred Rites, a title to
Your heart, I could not easily refrain
From wishing I might, meet your love with equal flame.
King.
Let me forget I am confin'd, at least,
Not hear it from thy tongue; 'twere cruel when
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His Chains; he would be more tormented with
That noise, then with their weight. O do not say
Thou canst not love! I rather will beguile
My hopes, fondly believing what I dare
Not doubt.
Eume.
I shall forget the rigor of my fate,
Remembring yours; and send my pity forth
To call those sorrows back, which I too hastily
Dismiss'd.
King.
So thou wilt kill, whom thou dost strive
To cure, to Bed my beauteous Favorite,
And when thou wak'st the watchful morn (taught by
The lustre of thine eyes) will learn first to
Begin, then perfect day; she through the nights.
Dark clouds must break, thou through the mists of Sutor's breath,
Who wait in throngs, upon thy Regal pow'r,
For their redress.
Eume.
Let me resign your favor, Sir,
Though to be Mighty, is a just desire in all
That covet to do good; yet you may place
That painful office, on those that can
With safer eyes out-look the slating World:
King.
Eumena no: Could every one that careless sits
On his high Throne, depute his pow'r
Where it might mingle with such innocence,
Monarchal sway would be belov'd: For 'tis
Our worst mistake, to think the Arts of Government
So hard; since a perfection in the skill
To rule, is less requir'd then perfect will.
Eume.
The envious waste the night, observing us,
Let us depart, though onely to become
So good, as not to hinder (Sir)
Our very enemies from rest.
King.
To Bed, to Bed!
And whil'st in gentle dreams (the sweets of sleep)
Thy heart doth revel, mine, the watch shall keep.
Exeunt.
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