 | Love In it's Extasie : Or, The large Prerogative |  |
Actus quartus.
Scena Prima.
Enter Flavanda.Fla.
The lying Painters picture aged time
With wings at's heels, as if he always flew,
But that their licence warranteth their acts
I justly might accuse them of their falshood;
The time that Love obeys is slow, exceeding dull,
Hel'd back with leaden fetters.
Each tedious minute makes a week,
Each moneth an age, and each delaying year
Seems fully a Platonnick.
Enter Charastus.
Cha.
Whither dispair do'st hurry me?
What new found death canst thou invent
For an inconstant Lover? If there be one
Which never yet imagination compast, let me enjoy
Its wish't virginity, I have deserv'd it fully.
Fla.
Talk not of death Charastus now; my arms shall be
Thy living sepulcher, my Bed thy winding-sheet;
Hymen shall write thy joyfull Epitaph,
And Virgins pure shall sang an Epithalamium for an Elegy;
We two like to two meeting channels will turn one,
One individed and united Body.
Cha.
Oh Flavanda I blush to see thee,
I am a villain grown, yet I still dearly love thee,
I am inconstant, Dearest, can'st thou think it?
The ficklest fortune is more stedfast:
The wind oft-times is stable, but my heart
Wavers at every object.
Fla.
Have I a Rivall then Charastus?
Is the stream of your Affection then divided,
And your Love grown less?
Cha.
Not less Flavanda; Streams parted with a stop
Than when they kept united in the channel.
Fla.
I do confess my unworthiness; I will resign
Unto thy fresher love, could I but think her worthy.
Cha.
Never, oh never, never shal't thou do it.
For sooner sure the Gods can separate the orbs
Than our so long united Hearts.
Enter Constantina.
Were the separation but in Natures power, here comes
Those rayes that easily would make the dissolution.
Fla.
Thou hast made a worthy choyce Charastus.
I glory in my Rivall more than Lovers in their Nuptialls:
This Act confirms your love to me, and should I dye
I make no question but my liveless trunck
Would pleasure in your happiness; no soft embrace
Could ye exchange, but I should be partaker
No kiss without a joyfull blush from my wan cheeks
Should joyn your tender lips together.
Delay not then your joyes for me.
My Love is old and stale; Her's fresher
Than the mayden Rose whose pureness yet
No boysterous hand has touch't prophanely.
I'le imitate those friends that take more pleasure
For to see some feed, than if they fed themselves.
Con.
I'le starve before I'le taste such cates,
They will infect me with inconstancy.
They're like devouring flames, they still turn
All they meet with to their own nature:
But I will fly them worse than stings of Scorpions,
Or that deadly root, that pallateth the eye
But poysons still the pallate.
Fla.
Shun not approaching happiness for my sake;
I am grown old in his affection, and Age
You know must dye, yet when I am dead
Be not I prithee jealous of my Ghost.
Con.
If death can end this controversie, 'tis fittest
I should yield, when I am dead
I happily may love him, but never living.
Cha.
Contend not so my hearts two parallels
For what's anothers due; Death my desert is,
Here I live, like to a needle 'twixt two Lead-stones,
Paying a trembling reverence to both,
No full Allegiance unto either.
Oh ye individed moities of my soul,
Tear not my heart with your attractive virtues
Thus by piece-meals, divide it gently,
Ye both are victors of my better part already,
My body is not worth your quarrell.
Con.
Nor your heart; we might as well
Quarrell for fortune, she's as constant.
Fla.
But not so lovely.
Con.
Constancy the only beauty is in eyes
That true affection governs, which till Charastus
Gets again, I shall abhor to see him.
Exit.
Fla.
Would I could do so too; But envious Fate
Twharts my desires, and condemns my hate.
Exit.
Cha.
Do I yet live? remain my senses perfect?
Oh I could rave, tear out my traiterous eyes,
Dissect my heart, and rend affection from affection.
Surely I am mad, because I am not mad:
Mad men enjoy their happiness, but we
In having reason know our misery.
Exit.
Sce. 2.
Enter Constantina.Con.
Where is that boasted constancy which so oft
Men use to glory in? where is that Faith,
And that eternall Loyalty, which once exalted men
'Bove Demi-Gods? Is there not one left virtuous?
Custome wou'd have allow'd, it but men,
Whose purer souls should harbor most divinity,
Are now become less constant far than we
That clame no being but from them.
Why should we suffer then for what's anothers fault?
My act shall work a reformation in the world,
And man, not woman, shall hereafter be
The Proverb to express Inconstancy.
Enter Fidelio.
Fid.
Kneel you to me Lady?
Con.
Wonder not Fidelio why thus low
An unknown Virgin offers her obedience;
It is a reverence that we ought to pay
When we behold such virtue, and should I
Be so uncivilly modest to deny an adoration
When duty and affection bind me,
The world might justly stile me irreligious.
Fid.
That modestie I must confess is incivilitie
That smothers an affection; But what worth in me
Can stir affection in your chaster breast I know not,
And I must needs Lady either be a fool
In extolling of my self, or uncivill in condemning your Judgment.
Con.
I look not on your sir with superstitious eyes,
I cannot make an Idol of perfection,
It is your souls Idæa I admire
Whose excellence I have studied long
Taught by your Constantina's prayses.
Fid.
You have chose a most unprofitable Subject
For your study Lady, it is so sparing of reward
That it forgets it self, and must for ever, you.
Con.
It is a study like the Chimick,
The end I must confess is hard to gain, but yet
It shews most sweet conclusions to the industrious.
Many there are that study it with delight,
But none with such a fearfull fervency as I;
Yet though I tremble, I dispair not, since she,
That only had the power to obtain it,
Has resign'd it to me for a Legacie, which I may
Justly chalenge, and you may not without impiety deny.
Fid.
A Legacie? if she be dead that was
Sole Mistress of the Art, the Art must dye too.
Con.
Mistake me not, she is not dead sir,
She has usurpt another studie only, call'd
Obedience to a Husband, for Constantina your once betrothed
Is now married to the Duke of Florence my only Brother.
Fid.
She is worse then, her constancie is dead,
And with it dies my love eternally.
Con.
Oh say not so; that was my Legacy given to me
By her departing Constancy, and if the Laws fulfill
The wills of wicked men, 'tis fit that sacred Constancie's
Should be obei'd. She told me here you liv'd
In Lelybæus a disguised Shepherd I for her sake,
Which made me take this journey and this habit,
And surely had you not a fresher Love,
You nere could disobey your Constantina's will,
Especially to one so like her.
Fid.
I must confess thou art so like her,
That I should believe what thou hast said is true,
Were I not so confident of her Loyalty.
Con.
Shall I not he believ'd then?
Let her hand perswade you, since my tongue cannot.
She gives him a Letter.
Fid.
This is her seal and Character, I know 'um well;
The direction, To her wrong'd Fidelio.
I begin to tremble, my gelid blood
Flies fast unto my heart, and calls for vengeance.
He reads.
Con.
Read and repent false man.
Fid.
Oh heavens! VVhy of those numerous torments
Yo torment me? If that my crime so hainous was,
That all your malice joyn'd with fortunes
Could not invent a punishment to equall it,
Hell surely might have furnish'd you,
You needed not have call'd a woman to your councell,
Their malice is above Hels hate,
But I'le be reveng'd on all their Sex,
For none I am sure is constant since she is false.
Con.
Be not so confident of our weakness:
The loving Turtle shall not serve her mate
With half that faithfulness as I will you.
Fid.
Hence Ethiopean Devill; Thou art too like her
To be good: I'de rather meet a Succubus,
Embrace a sooty Moore, or dally with a Negro's horrid curles.
They may by chance prove constant, but thou
Wilt presently deny thou lov'st me.
Con.
Let me dye eternally, if ever I deny I love you.
Fid.
Then follow me to Bermudo, thou shalt be the first
I'le sacrifice to my just anger. Oh men accurst!
Exeunt.
Sce. 3.
Enter Virtusus.Vir.
Oh thou restrainer of our wilder actions,
Thou that keepst in awe all raging superfluities,
Teaching sobriety to the grossest Epicures,
Could'st thou restrain our wandring imaginations too
Thou wert a Paradice, but they in the obscurest places
Wander most, and in the darkest Caves, where light
Nere yet vouchsaft an entrance, oft will see
A perfect splendor and a full effusion of immateriall Beams
Descending down from an impenitrable postern.
Thoughts are the Devils chiefest Instruments.
The holyest Frier in his seclusest Cell
Oft sins in imagination; The purest Vestall
At the Altar will oft-times fancy a thing unlawfull;
And should that be the utter ruine of Virginity,
Where should we seek it Heavens?
Enter Bermudo and Thesbia.
Thes.
See yonder he is, Great Sir.
Ber.
Thou art a courteous Jayler; He fares
More like a Prince than Prisoner.
Thes.
I love not Sir to triumph over Misery.
Exit.
Ber.
Shepherd, thou hast thy liberty.
The importunate intreaties of Anthrogonus have commanded it.
See now thou goest, and with submissive knees
Be thankfull to his bounty; It is
But a poor gratuity for freedom.
Vir.
I scorn that freedome that is given
Not for desert, but out of curtesie.
Flattery a thraldom is beyond a Prison,
And I abhor it worse; I'le not thank him
Nor Heavens for what's my due sir.
Ber.
Why stubborn fool? What merit lies in thee
Whose just power may chalenge but a favor from him?
It was not thy desert that rais'd this pity,
But his Charity.
Vir.
His duty rather: true goodness
Whensoere he sees oppressed Innocence
Is bound in duty to relieve it.
Ber.
Is Innocence the ground of your presumption?
Shepherd beware lest thy contempt
Kindle a flame that will consume thee.
Thou hast stir'd the embers, without prevention
'Twill be dangerous.
Enter Thesbia.
Thes.
Oh smother it a while, Great Sir; Let it not spend
As yet its violence: He will accept your curtesie,
His modesty that refus'd it; See how he blushes Sir.
Gentle Shepherd, dye not ingratefull to our bounty;
That crime will blot your former innocence,
And make it seem as loathsome as impiety.
If against me you do conceive this Hate,
Go but with me, and I'le tell you sir
She is not dead, Thesbia is not dead,
And reconcile us two in a perpetuall league of friendship.
Vir.
For once I'le try your cunning.
Ber.
Shepherd choose which you wil have,
A perfect freedom, or a sudden grave.
Vir.
I shall have both in either.
Exeunt Virtusus and Thesbia.
Ber.
Hast thou Bermudo with ambitious wings
Soar'd 'bove the reach of common thoughts?
Have I obtain'd that happiness which proudest envie
Scarce can prye into? And must I stoop
Unto a boyes soft Lure? Surely some holy power
Conceals it self within that pleasant habitation,
Whose awfull noyse freezes my raging appetite,
And turns my fury into Charity.
Enter Fidelio.
Fid.
The hardned Earth made stiffe with winters frost
Views not the Sun with such a full alacrity,
As I your Highness.
Ber.
A lustfull couple joyn'd in loose embraces
Hate not the approaching Morn with such an enmity,
As I your flattery.
Pid.
Believe me Sir I cannot flatter you.
My simple honesty leaves that study unto them
That seek preferment by it: I never hop't
To raise my fortunes by my handsome lying.
The zeal I bear your lawes has arm'd my confidence,
And I do wish I had a thousand unchast Damzels
To present you for a sacrifice.
Ber.
And I do wish if this be true,
I had ten thousand favors to requite thee with.
Fid.
My duty Sir, and not those hopes of recompence
Has bred this hate, which death shall not extinguish,
But my angry Ghost shall hate 'um in Elizium.
The very name of woman is grown odious,
And I abhor a Lovers sighs worse than the ayr
Breathed from infection.
Ber.
Let me contain thee in my arms thou faithfull Champion;
We two will grow together, and be one,
One terror to that foolish passion.
Fid.
I have not earn'd such favor yet.
I would not willingly receive my hire
Before I have deserv'd it: Let your Revenge
Eat of my labors first; I can present you
With a taste, a woman, that dares outface
Impudence it self, who in despight of all your Laws,
And that, which lately I did count
An ornament of woman, blest moestie,
Is turn'd a shameless wooer.
Ber.
If this be true, I'le wear thee here
My better Genius; Long have I soughtout such a one.
To make their sex more odious to my eyes,
But nere till now could find one.
Conscience that food of fools and bane of Greatness
Has abus'd me still, making my subjects
To conceal those crimes, which had they but reveal'd,
My exercis'd severity ere this
Had bred a Hate more deadly to their Sex,
Than raging Dog-dayes, and Platonnick men.
Thou art an honest subject, Shepherd, thou preferst
Thy Kings content before that Bug bear Conscience,
For which, ask any thing, 'tis thine,
Ask Monopolies, I'le seal 'um all, yet do not,
They are the rewards of flattery, and cannot
Fid.
Your favor Sir will far exceed my merit.
Enter Constantina.
Ber.
Hast any witness, Shepherd, of the fact?
Con.
Yes sir, I am his witness;
I know she loves him, Loves him as her soul,
And were there but a thing more dear unto her,
She would love him better.
Fid.
Oh Audacity: This is she.
Ber.
She? Unto what height of impudence are women grown?
Dar'st thou defend thy crime, that thou art grown
So confident?
Con.
I come not Sir for to defend my crime,
Or to expostulate with your Highness, for if I did,
I then would tell you, she that loves most truly
Ought to be thought most modest,
And that affection if but constant does as far
Exceed your chastity, as Chastity, Incontinence.
Ber.
Bold woman! Hast thou forgot thy Sex?
Con.
I think I have, for I cannot dissemble now,
But what I say, proceeds from Truth
Great as thy Tyranny. I flatter not your Highness,
Such common Courtship let them use that are
Affraid to dye; My resolution shall outbrave thy rigor,
Use then thy full Authority.
Ber.
Who waits without?
Enter Guard.
Convey that Strumpet hence, ere that the Night
Sheds Poppeys on the Earth, she dyes.
Con.
Now I shall dye in charity with all
Since thou art mercifull: For this same curtesie Bermudo
Whil'st I live, I'le pray thou may'st repent,
And when I am dead my obsequient Ghost
Shall wait upon thee still to put thee in remembrance.
Ex. Guard with Constantina.
Ber.
Shepherd, this curtesie has fatted my revenge,
My raging fury feeds upon this fuell with a devouring appetite,
And if thou add st not still unto the flame
Vengeance will lack his prey, and feast on me.
Proceed then in thy holy work, and sooner shall each sense
Forget his Organ, than I my pious instrument.
Exit.
Enter Virtusus.
Vir.
Whither so fast Fidelio? How fares it friend?
Fid.
Well.
Vir.
That well sounds ill me thinks.
Is this the joy you give my liberty?
Hadst thou receiv'd thy freedom so,
The calmer Seas when Halcyons breed
Should have appear'd more boysterous than I:
I'de not have frown'd to see thee free,
But if some billows did by chance arise,
I would have turn'd 'um into dancing waves
For joy of thy security.
Fid.
Alas Virtusus, I am glad to find thee safe, but
My afflicted soul cannot express the joy.
Oh seest not my heart sweld with revenge
Extend my stretch't out sides, and can'st thou hope
For any thing but frowns?
Vir.
Thy looks I must confess declare a Passion,
But of what nature I am ignorant.
Fid.
If thou hast lost thy penetrating eye,
Look upon my face, and there my eyes
Sparkling forth fire for anger, will give light to read it by.
Can'st not conceive it yet? See'st thou not woman there
Imprinted in the wrinckles of my frowning forehead?
Oh woman, woman, woman!
Vir.
Come, forget this passion for a while,
Forget all women, and their virtues too.
Alas there is not one left virtuous, but are all
As false and as disloyall as thy sister.
Vir.
I hope you don't suspect her sir.
Fid.
Yes, and your Mother too.
One man could not beget two contraries:
Thou art too good to be her Brother, and she
Too bad to be Brabanta's daughter.
Vir.
My ears have suck't in poyson, which works
Like Stybium in my brains. If this be true
(Which yet I cannot credit) nor pietie nor sisters cries
Shall hold my hand, but I will sacrifice her blood
For an atonement to thy anger.
Fid.
Oh Virtusus 'tis too true: wouldst thou rip ope my heart,
There, there thou mightst behold
Disloyall Constantina writ in bloody notes;
There too as in a perspective thou shouldst see
The Duke of Florences lustfull eyes
Fixt fast on Constantina, whilst the amorous Girl
Playes with his wanton hair, and in
A thousand other wayes invites embraces.
Vir.
Should Heavens in thunder speak it,
I durst to contradict 'um.
Fid.
'Twill be a less impiety to contradict this paper.
He gives him a Letter.
Vir.
It is her seal and Character:
I'le read no more; would 'twere her body,
Thus I'de rend it; Thus would I tear her unchaste limbs,
And blow 'um like to Atomes in the ayr;
Thus in contempt I'de spurn her lustful face,
Bowl with her rouling eyes, and twist her hayr
In ropes for executions. Did I but know
What vein her blood inhabits,
I'de make a sluce and draw that channel dry
Though I lay drowned in its gore.
But I am too passionate; who fury can allay,
Vengeance may sooner, and securelier pay.
Enter Charastus.
Fid.
Oh Charastus, never till now unwelcome to Fidelio.
Thou art too happy now for my companion.
I have dissolv'd thy Loves ambiguous Riddle,
And given thy soul a free election,
By making a necessity of thy choyse.
Cha.
False and disloyal man, dar'st thou yet live
And glory in thy wickedness? Hast thou a Conscience
Not to kill thy self when such a stain commands thee?
Oh thou prophaner of all Justice
Ought he to live that cannot look upon perfection
But with envious eyes?
Fid.
My care has not deserv'd these words Charastus.
Cha.
Call not that care Fidelio which thy spleen
Too long has nourish'd, 'tis an inveterate Hate
Sent from the souler mansion of thy soul
To blast perfection: Is that Physitian carefull
That instead of Physick gives deadly poyson
To his patient?
Fid.
No dire mistake was author of my charity,
But a Revenge which all their Sex must tremble under,
And 'twas my fortune to practise first on her,
And her honor to precede whole thousands.
Cha.
Thou art the worst of Mountebanks, they kill
Their poorest Patients for experiments,
But thou destroyst Patience it self, the richest Gem
That ever Art envied dame Nature for.
Fid.
It is the nature of Revenge to punish first
Those things from whence they took their poyson.
Cha.
Poyson from her?
Herein thou shew'st thy venemous disposition:
Spiders suck poyson from the sweetest flowers
When Bees draw Honey. Her words
Though arm'd to my destruction seem'd to me
Adorn'd with more variety of sweetness
Than the jucie grape stole from the Vine
Just at the entrance of maturity;
And can they then, can these delicious words
Distill'd to the invitation of a happiness be a poyson?
Tis thy bad Nature only that converts to naught
What ere the Gods thought good.
Vir.
Doat not Charastus so on one, whose scorn
Makes her condition poorer than her birth,
Which surely is ignoble. The Kingly Eagle
Stoops not unto flies.
Cha.
But yet a Flye mounted on Eagles wings
Deserves more commendations than your painted Peacocks
That boast but in the gross absurdity of Nature.
Vir.
If for to reach a glove dropt from
A neighbouring Queen, be to degenerate From Majesty?
What will the world report when they shall hear
Charastus stoopt to the meaness of a Shepherdess?
Cha.
Art thou disloyall too Virtusus? two such more
Wou'd learn the Heavens impiety. Adue false friends,
Know my revenge shall be
Fully as ample as your Tyranny.
Exit.
Fid.
I dare, vie vengeance with thee at the highest.
My heart's as great with rage, and less confin'd
Within the bounds of charity, tis free,
Freer than Ayr, it soars aloft, hovering
Like some prodigious Meteor ore all women.
All shall groan under its heavie weight, all must sink
Or all my ends will perish.
Vir.
Not all Fidelio, be not so severe: Out of
Those numberless thousands that do clog the Earth
One may be found unspotted: thy Sisters Virtue
Is of sufficient value to redeem a destin'd Hecatombe
Of unchaste women, though doom'd by Tyranny it self.
Fid.
I do suspect her too; she is too much
A woman to be good: Women are all
The fruits of drunkenness, begot when men
Like senseless beasts wallow in strange desires;
Then coveting to frame a Monster like themselves
Nature complying with their avarice, sends them
A daughter: How can that Sex then be divine
That's thus engendred betwixt Lust and Wine.
Vir.
Be more charitable Fidelio in your opinion:
Blame not all for one.
Fid.
Charity is cold:
'Twill breed a contrariety in my raging breast.
Give me hot fuell: I would be all on flame.
Feed me with Bridegrooms thoughts, and let me drink
The fervent sighes breath'd from the truest penitence;
Bathe me in Lovers tears, drie me with
The fiery palme of some notorious Redhaird Strumpet:
I would be a living element of fire
To cross the new Philosophers opinion.
Yet from this flame I would send one spark
But to the ruine of a woman,
For now I finde the Proverb's verified
He that begets a daughter surely went drunk to bed.
Exeunt.
Sce. 4.
Enter Sperazus and Constantina.Spe.
Daughter this forwardness of yours to dye,
Makes me believe you are innocent, and now I am
Grown confident that what you said is true,
Although at first I must confess it startled incredulity.
Con.
As grave Sir I am not bound with an untruth
To wrong myself; so I do scorn
To mitigate my crime with coin'd excuses.
Which now they tax me with: If it be a sin
Chastly to love, I am most wicked, if not,
I call the Gods to witness I am innocent,
For no loose desire has ever yet prophan'd me.
Spe.
Thou art the purest Virgin living then,
Purer than those that think all Love
An argument of loosness: Who nere knew Wine
Cannot be thought abstemius, 'tis the forbearing taster
That is temperate. She that is chast and never lov'd
Does only good compel'd by ignorance;
But she that loves and can be chast
Enjoys that virtue in its full perfection.
Such an one, divinest Maid, art thou,
Whom but to ransome from the Tyrants Law,
I'd stretch my feeble limbes with vigour on the Altar,
And with a zeal undaunted meet the flames:
So with them should my soul aspire
Beyond the reach of gross mortality.
Con.
And do you envie me that happiness?
Is not my soul as free as yours to expiate
Its own transgressions; The Gods I am sure
Desire a Sacrifice though spotted, if offer'd
By the repentant sinner, more than whole Hecatombs
Bestow'd by Innocence.
Spe.
Thou pleadst divinely gainst thy self: thy only fault
Is too much goodness, which lest the Heavens
Should not know how to pardon, by wanting of a president,
I'le furnish thee with showres of tears
To make a flood wherein thy soul may float
In peace unto security.
Con.
Reserve them for some other subject;
I make no question but to dye for him
Will be both penance and a pardon. Could my heart
Be but so kindly stubborn to resist my thoughts oppressions,
And not break till I endure this martyrdom,
I should receive the joyfull Crown of immortality.
Spe.
Let not the thought of that, divinest, trouble thee;
Here is a juyce distilled from Nepenthe, Drink it,
And the remembrance of thy former miseries
Will flye thy imagination.
He gives her a Viall.
Con.
Alas I dare not take it: my life
Is of so short a moment, that I shall nere requite you,
And I would not willingly dye ingratefull.
Spe.
I owe both this and far more to thy virtue.
Farewell thou mirrour of all goodness;
Take these my tears, my prayers, my sighes,
Companions of thy journey, and when thou art amidst
Those sacred flames, they'l help to waft thee to eternity.
Exit.
Con.
Right heavenly Sir adue.
Spe.
Where were thy eyes Fidelio? This will be news
Will make thy affrighted blood start from thy veins,
And turn thee more pale than she consum'd to Ashes.
Exit.
Sce. 5.
Enter Bermudo.Ber.
Now sayles our wishes with a steddy course,
The tottering bark poiz'd by a seconds help
Floats safely on the Maine. But yet be not
Too credulous fond man, the ballance is uncertain,
And should that fail the shipwrack would be deadly.
Trust not too much unto a friend; Opportunity
Base mischiefs Bawd to them is too obsequious.
Brutus could pierce great Cæsars side
When Pompey could not; Mistrust then all Bermudo,
Be intimate with none: 'Tis State policy.
Will grow at length as mischievous as uncontroulable,
And pierce that breast that nourish'd it.
Enter Charastas.
Cha.
Ye silent Ministers of Night
Send your Cimmerian darkness ore the world,
Choak up the Sun with fogs and misty vapours,
Let it be night eternall, or let my eyes
Drop from their hollow caverns, that I may never see again
So gross impiety.
Ber.
What fury does transport thee?
Cha.
In what foul part lies my accursed memory?
I'le tear it out, and be a lump of dead for forgetfulness.
Entombe ye just Heavens within oblivions Cave,
I would forget my self, my all, so with them
I might forget that wickedness
Which these my eyes were witnesse off.
Ber.
What art thou frantick fellow?
Cha.
Pardon dread Soveraign if my rage
Has slack't my due obedience. Fury so blinded me
I could not see those rayes which from your Majestie
Shoot in a continued lustre.
Oh Modesty where's now thy ruddy wings?
Where is that bashfull trembling which so oft
I have seen adorning Country Mansions?
Why liv'st thou now an exile in the woods
Banisht from Court and City?
Ber.
The man is mad.
Cha.
I would I were great King so this were false:
Oh Sir, your Court is spotted with such Lust
As can command a blush for ever in my cheek to think on.
Ber.
Ha! my Court?
Cha.
Yes, your Court, that Holy Temple
Where Justice and Religion hand in hand
Walks in a happy unitie, is now become
The sink of foul impietie.
Ber.
My Court become a brothell house of Lust?
Cha.
These two unhappy eyes saw two
Melting in close embraces, Kissing each other with such fervencie
As if their lips desir'd to be united and become
An individuall happiness; Alas my chaster tongue
Cannot express those amorous tricks
Which their hot appetites belcht out
To teach old Lust a new lasciviousness.
Ber.
Swell higher yet my rage;
Thou art at too low an ebb to punish such impietie,
Swell till your channels crack;
Let a generall inundation break the banks
And turn to ruine all it meets with.
Their two deaths cannot alone dissolve
This mass of wickedness: Thousands must dye
To expiate this crime, if it be true.
Cha.
'Tis too true great Sir; your eyes
Shall be witness of it, if you'l be pleas'd to follow.
Ber.
Lead on.
Exeunt.
Sce. 6.
Enter Constantina and Thesbia.Con.
The holy absolution of the Priest
Sings not so glad a Requiem to my departing soul
As this thy comfortable presence; Do not,
Oh do not then obscure thy self with ill beseeming tears,
I shall suspect thou think'st me still unchaste,
And spend'st these tears to purifie my spotted Conscience.
Thes.
When friends do part but for a week or so,
Their weeping eyes the emblems of their troubled hearts
Will let fall tears, and shall we
That now must part eternally
Denie our souls that charitable sacrifice?
Thou a long journey Constantina now must take,
Who knows whither I shall see thee more.
Con.
Alas poor soul, weep not for my felicity.
It is a glorious place that I shall go too.
Amidst a thousand Virgins I shall hear
Eternall harmony, still sounding, and still pleasant,
There fragrant smells shall never cloy
My fainting appetite though still presented odoriferous.
And canst thou weep because thy friend
Must go to such a Paradise?
Thes.
I weep not dearest because thou goest,
But that I stay behind; Could I accompany thee,
No Vestall Virgins at the Altar should appear
With such a joyfull countenance: But since I here must live
A walking Ghost pent in an earthly sepulchre,
It would be impudence to refrain from tears;
Weep on then Thesbia, let thy eyes
Flow with a continued moysture, to drain these fens
Will puzzle all projecting undertakers.
Con.
My weakness can resist no longer.
These tears proclame thy triumph;
We two like two Niobes will shed tears
Till we become one Fountain.
Enter above Charastus and Bermudo.
Cha.
See great Sir how close they are?
Oh do you start Sir?
Ber.
Ha! Anthrogonus, I would my eyes were lightning
For to blast thy spotted soul, yet leave thee still as fair.
Cha.
With what affection they embrace?
See how their wanton heads wearied with kissing
Hang like two drooping Lillies on each others shoulder,
Their very eyes to sympathize with them
Melt into tears.
Ber.
My rage involves a thunderbolt, this poor thin cloud
Cannot contain it long; 'twill out to all our ruines.
Oh Anthrogonus little canst thou think
What raging sorrows boyle within my breast
At this sad spectacle; The sight of such impiety
Feeds on my heart worse than Cantharides,
Or the deadly sting of a foul Conscience.
My eyes shall be no more your Pander.
Take heed fond fools, Bermudo comes
Arm'd to destruction:
Exit.
Cha.
Thus climbs Revenge: thus her aspiring head
One step has mounted, ere to the top it comes
Your hearts false men shall feel its rigor.
Sleep on fond Boy, thou hast a soft but fatall pillow,
Had not Bermudo lov'd thee, nor thou sav'd their lives,
Thou mightst have liv'd, but now
To punish three thou diest.
Thus by degrees Revenge must rise
Who straight brings death knows not to tyrannize.
Exit.
Bermudo within breaks ope the doors upon them.
Con.
Alas we are betraid.
Thef.
I care not I since Innocence is my guard.
Enter Bermudo and Guard.
Ber.
Seize on that lustfull couple.
Thes.
Why this violence? ye needed not have come
Thus armed to betray our innocence:
That weak resistance we could make
One word might have subdude, but if you think
To fright us with your strength, know we have
A guard about us shall confront your hopes.
Ber.
Guilt's a sufficient terror to it self,
It needeth no addition; but Justice as it strikes
So must it speak, like thunder.
Con.
Should it strike here, it would be truly so;
The holyest Temples oft are struck with thunder.
Should you but take his Nature and destroy
So pure an edifice as his, it were no Justice
But prophane severity.
Thes.
Plead not for me: I dare his utmost rigour,
Be it in cruelty.
Ber.
My cruelty will but waver when it flowes on thee.
Oh that such tender years can be so old in wickedness.
Hadst thou a soul Anthrogonus as pure
As its inclosure thou mightst have been
Enthron'd a Deity for mortals to have wonder'd at.
Wouldst thou yet live? There is a strange
Conflict fought within me, by Piety and Affection.
Thes.
Let not Affection pull a curse upon you.
It is not in the power of your Majesty
To spare my life and take hers, unless you will be
More impious in breaking of your Lawes,
Than you were pious in the making them.
Ber.
'Tis true Anthrogonus, thou canst not live
Without I violate Religion; Thy body must
Within an odoriferous cloud ascend the Skies
To crave a pardon for thy soul.
Con.
The Gods require no humane sacrifice.
Mercy if offer'd in a free oblation, is the only incence
They delight in. I am enough to satisfie the Law,
Make not Religion sir too great a Butchery,
Your pity and his repentant tears
Will be a sacrifice more sweet,
Than all the Cookery of humane entrails.
Ber.
Witness ye Gods with what unwilling hands
I offer up this sacrifice; But Laws must be obey'd
When piety commands, though to the makers ruine.
Kings that make Laws to entrap others, may
With their own plots by chance themselves betray.
Exeunt.
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