 | The Partiall Law |  |
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Scena Secunda.
Florabella sola.Flo.
Pray heavens my troubled thoughts forbode no ill,
There's somewhat heere within that pantes and beates
And will not suffer me to be in quiet,
But I will strive to pacifie my selfe
For if I give this humour too much reynes
I feele 'twill grow upon me: 'twas a dreame
And may it vanish like a dreame, for they
Are rather semblances of hopes or feares
Caus'd by the daye's preceding fantasies
Than signes of truth in ought that is to come;
And yet the soule sleepes not, though senses sleepe
But rather may be term'd to be the more
Awake, by how much it less troubled is
By the false formes of sense which then doe sleep.
Besides, there sure was somewhat more in it
Than dreame; me thinkes I yet see Bellamour
When as the other threw his cloake about
His eyes, and having hoodwinck't him, to which
He freely did give way, (for had I dream'd
T'had beene by force, I had sworne t'had been a lye,
And not have credited ought else therein.)
Me thought he then pluck't out his heart and cring'd,
And scrap'd to it, kist it, and hug'd it close,
At this me thought, my Bellamour did see
Though hoodwinck't, and although his heart was taken
From forth his breast and courted by another,
Yet he look't on till suddenly he fell,
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And found my selfe all in a clammy sweat,
Shaking as does the Sea when calmely blow'en on.
It addes unto my feares that he hath not
As yet to day perform'd his usuall visit,
He had not wont to be so long away.
Enter Lucina.
Luc.
What Madame? talking to your selfe alone?
May I be happy to partake thereof?
Flo.
Lucina, heard you me not talke last night?
Talke in my sleep I meane.
Luc.
No truely Madame,
(aside)
I'de other fish to frye.
Flo.
I had a dreame;
The strangest one er'e heard on.
Luc.
(aside)
I, a vision
For sure 'twas more than dreame; there was in mine
Realityes, and those so rarely pleasing
As if it were or dreame or vision,
I would have wish't t'have dream'd out all my life.
Flo.
It seemes your senses all were busied,
Or you must needes have felt me shake.
Luc.
She might
Have gi'n't the other word and not have lyed.
Why shake, deare Madame? was your dreame so harsh?
So full of terrour? may I know what 'twas?
Flo.
Alas! I have forgot it; more than that
I'm sure 'twas ghastly, full of horror, such
As yet I cannot blot out of my minde.
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The worse the better; dreames are always read
Like Hebrew backwards; good if they be bad
Is to be hoped for; bad, if they be good.
Therefore pluck up your spirits, what? cast downe
For drowsy sleepy fancyes? see, here comes
Your women, they missing of you within
Enter two Women.
Are come to seeke you; how say you pretty ones
Is it not so?
Fiducia.
Yes Madame, we were told
Her Grace was walk't forth this way, so we made
What haste we could to follow after her.
Luc.
'Twas done like careful wenches, now y'are come
See what you can invent to cheere your Lady.
She's wondrous sad, tell her some merry tales.
Nigretta.
There's some of us perhaps have greater cause
To be chear'd up our selves than she. Promise and fayle!
Make me sit up all night! Expect in vayne!
But if I not revenge my selfe—
Flo.
Who was't?
What promis'd? wherein did he fayle?
Nig.
My Taylor Madame promised to take
Measure last night of me for a new gowne
Which I must weare on Sunday, and the knave
Made me sit up all night, yet never came,
So as to boote with losse of expectation
I shall not have my gowne made tyme enough
For me to weare, and wayte on you to Church.
Flo.
'Twas not a mourning gowne he was to make?
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A mourning gown? marry the Lord forbid!
'Tis a Carnation sattin gowne, cutt upon white
Lay'd o're with silver lace. But Madame, pray
What meanes your Grace to talke of mourning gownes?
Flo.
Perhaps you may have neede of such a one
E're then, to wayte on me unto my grave,
For sure I have not long to live; I feele
A sad benumming chilnesse seize my soule
Which does prognosticate my end to be
Neerer than you imagine.
Fid.
Heavens forbid!
I never saw her Grace in such a moode,
She's wondrous pale; Madame how does your Grace?
You looke as if you were not well; perhaps
This ayre's too cold; please it your Grace goe in?
Nig.
Madame, deare Madame, cast not down your selfe
With sad imaginations; what can't be
That troubles you? make us partakers of it;
You know not what unthought of remedyes
Lyes sometimes hidden in a woman's breast.
Luc.
What? not a word? deare Lady speake some comfort,
'Tis more than strange a dreame should cause all this.
Flo.
What would you have me say? I am posses't
With such a sudden seizure of my spirits
As that I hardly able am to speake.
There's sure some strange thing towards of disaster,
Pray let's goe in, and there obey the fates.
Fid.
Hold her by th'other hand Nigretta: she
Needes all our helpes: 'would she were well in bed.
The like to this I never heard nor read.
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Nig.
What saucy fellowe's this? do you not see
The Princesse? that you passe so rudely by
Without respect jostling her as you goe.
Mess.
The Princesse? Is this then Florabella
Princesse of Corsica?
Nig.
Yes marry is't,
What foole are you that do not know the Princesse?
Mess.
'Tis her I came to seeke.
Fid.
Sir if you have
Any affayres with her y'had best forbeare
The making of them know'en till she be better,
You see she's not in case to give you hearing.
Mess.
I must be heard and will; I doe not come
To sue for any thing but to performe
The last commands of one that's lately dead.
Flo.
Ha! what's that? dead! stand off, my spirits now
Returne, enabling me to undergoe
The shocke of what bad newes soe're he brings,
Speake on my friend, for I will give you hearing.
You spoke of one was dead, say, did you not?
Mess.
Madame I did, and (with your patience)
Must speake it o're again, 'tis the last will
And Testament made by a dying man
And I th'executor who must see't fulfilled.
Flo.
Discharge your selfe of that your trust at large
Forget not the least circumstance, be sure
You doe it faithfully; nought can be worse
Than to deceive the trust o'th'dead.
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Who e're
Saw such strange sudden contrarietyes?
She who but now scarce able was to goe
Seemes now more vigorous than ever before
I have know'en her be, there's some strange businesse in't.
Mess.
Then Madame to obey both him and you.
As I this morning early on my way
Was this wayes travelling, I saw a man
Standing o'th'top of a high craggy cliffe
Which overhangs the Sea: this man saw me,
For overthwart the rocke my way did lie,
He beck'néd first, then louder cry'd unto me,
As I did ever hope for courtesie
In time of neede, that I to him would now
Afford my Companie for some small time,
This he redoubled often, insomuch
As though my businesse did require some haste
I therewith did dispense and went to him.
When I was got to th'top I might perceive
In his pale face death ghastly pourtray'd forth.
I hastened my pace: being come nigh
He drew his sword, pointed it towards me,
Charg'd me to come no neerer, least I would
Meete by the way with death; this said, he put
This chayne on his sword point.
Flo.
Ay me! Ay me!
Mess.
Tos't it from thence to me, gave me in charge
To finde out Princesse Florabella, her
Whose love he had preferr'd before his life,
He bade me give it her from one whom she
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And tell her that the having seene too much,
(Thrice happy he if he had never seene)
Caus'd him to this; this said he threw himselfe
Backward into the Sea, where I him saw
Plung'd under water.
(The Princesse sinkes downe.
Fid.
Helpe, helpe, she is gone.
And we for ever miserable.
Nig.
Rubbe
Her temples, pulle her by the nose. Alas!
Goe fetch some water, bow her body forwards;
What shall we doe? would thou hadst been borne dumb
Thou scritch owle.
(She reviveth.
Fid.
Rubbe hard, she comes againe, Madame, deare Madame,
Speake and speake comfort.
Flo.
How can you expect
Comfort from her to whom yourselves do use
Such Tyranny as to recall a life
Tenne times more bitter than tenne thousand deaths.
If ever you do covet true content
And hope to crowne your wishes with fruition,
Be merciful and suffer me to dye:
I do conjure you in your Mistrisse name,
Her whom you ought t'obey; shew but in this
Your due obedience, and for evermore
In all things after freely I acquit you.
Nig.
When she is dead, she'll seeke no further service,
There's yet some end prefix't to servitude;
But oh! she's gone againe; Fiducia your hand,
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Into her lodging, put her in her bed,
This ayre's too piercing; friend to make amends
For what y'have done amisse, haste to the Court,
Tell the first gentleman you meete, how that
The Princesse Florabell is fallen sicke,
And with him send the Doctours to her chamber.
Mess.
Lady, I will, and truely I am sad
To see my message have successe so bad.
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