University of Virginia Library

ACT. 4.

SCEN. 1.

Panareta. Ethusa.
Pan.
Sister, you know how oft you have profest
My word should be the Square of all your Actions.

Eth.
I not deny the promise, and my deeds
Shall speak as much.

Pan.
How I should hugge thy kindnesse,
If this soft temper were but settled on Thee:
And Thou as yet knew'st not the rigorous Scorn
To hate a worthy Lover.

Eth.
Such a one
Next to your self I'de cherish, but you then
Must give me leave with mine own eyes to see
And judge him worthy.

Pan.
Ah Sister! do you thus
Observe what you profest? Is my word now
The square of all your actions?

Eth.
Pardon Sister,
This is a matter of a higher Nature,
Then to be taken up on trust: In things
Of an indifferent strain I shall submit:
But on that base which props my Fate, I must
Call my own judgment unto Counsel there.

Pan.
Where is that solemn Reverence then you'l pay
To my experienc'd Discretion?
Is this the honour you bestow upon
A Judgment, to intrust it with meer Trifles?

Eth.
Then you would have me to love Theocles?

Pan.
'Tis the Ambition of my best wishes: Hee's
A man so well accomplish'd, that I should
Grow Envious, if he were once bestow'd
On any but a Sister.

Eth.
Hee's a man
Sufficient, whose Suit I'de hear with pity,
If you'l grant mine.

Pan.
Speak, and thou hast thy wish.

Eth.
Then cease to love Lysander; one of that state
That hee'l be woo'd forsooth; you must bespeak
And flatter his Affection; shortly I fear
Hee'l have you visit him and kisse his hand.

Pan.
Ah cruel Sister! do'st thou thus reward
My best of wishes for thy unhappy self,
To rob me of mine own? Th'hast giv'n a wound,
Onely Lysander can inflict a greater:
When that Name's tortur'd then I feel a rack,
My fortunes are so woven into his,
(Like Phydia's Image in the Deity)
(And hee's my God too) that what ere mishap
Strives to deface him, the same ruines me.
Not love him? prithee bid me not be Panareta,
Bid me confine the ayr within my hand,
And grasp a Thought: This were an easier task.

To them Theocles his Page.
Pag.
The onely fair of Ladies!
My Master Theocles with his humblest service
Directs this Letter to kisse your white hands.

Pan.
You mean my Sister sure.

Pag.
It is indors'd
With your name to Panareta,

(She takes the Letter.)
Eth.
The Lad speaks well, had his Neat Complement
But left some beauty too for me: Did Theocles
Teach you these manners?

Pag.
Madam within that Face
I see your Picture drawn so well, I may
Without a wrong to your divinest Feature,
Stile that the onely beauty.

Pan.

Return our thanks, tell him h'hath shewn a Skilful
Friendship.

Pag.

Madam, I'le blesse his Ears with your acceptance.

(Exe. Page.)

Pan.

I must perus't again; such good Newes gathers
Strength, and growes ith' Repetition.

(She reads.)
Eth.
See how she melts! with what delight she reads?
And dwells upon each syllable; as if
She had receiv'd a packet in one letter.
Sure it must needs be love! if Theocles
(Fool that I am, that I cann't call him mine)
But if my Theocles should bow his Flame,
And force it 'stoop unto Panareta's Love,
To what a passe then hath my Coynesse brought me?
I fear 'tis no vain guesse; perhaps he thus
Shoots his disdain at me; and he may now
Love with Revenge more then Affection.
Now Sister; how do you like his Courtship?
Is it not full, as if there dropt a heart
From his swoll'n pen?

Pan.
I like his Courtship?

Eth.
Heavens! shee's too honest to deny't,
H'hath learnt contempt from me.

Pan.
How Sister, caught?

Eth.
I am, and foolishly have caught my self;
I had not lost him, had I not bin too sure
That he was mine.

Pan.
Sister, y'ave made me glad
In this discovery, Newes almost as good
As that the Letter brought me.

Eth.
And can you then
Prize any thing as high as Theocles?
His love should be more then expression.

Pan.
Still you increase my joyes.

Eth.
Nay let it not
Be sport that I am ruin'd, because thence
You gain a fortune.

Pan.
Since 'tis gone thus far,
I hope 'tis past recal: Then you love Theocles!

Eth.
As I do health or vertue: but do not mock
At my misfortune; sure he lov'd me once.

Pan.
And does so still: if you desire a proof,
Read his own Letter.

Eth.
Thus he that executes
Holds out the Axe which cuts away our life,
And we are first kill'd through the Eyes. I'le read,
But prithee Sister, if I chance to sigh
Or wet the paper with a Tear, as if
I'de drown the sad contents, prithee at least
Bestow a pity on me, and confesse
My losse deserves this sadnesse. Now I die.
She reads.

Artemone, through a Jealousie I wrought in her, hath cast off
Lysander; my aym is; that despairing here, he may esteem
your love as it deserves—

But is it then no worse? I feel a Joy
Running through all my veins, and I conceive
That I may live still.

Pan.
Nay but read on,
There's somewhat else left that requires your notice.

Eth.
Oh is the wound behind still! I had thought
There could no Poyson follow such fair words:
But be it what it will, I'le taste it.
She reads on.

—I have my reward, if you further my suit to Ethusa.

Theocles.

I'de thought I was in heaven before: but now
I'm past the reach of Envy.

If you further my suit to Ethusa.

O what a rellish
Flow from these words? I am thine Theocles,
Thine own without a mediators help:
But prithee Sister do not thou betray
The weaknesse of my passion; let me still
Hold out, and though you know my eagernesse,
Let me come slowly on; I would yeeld
Too soon, though I have yeelded all already:
I cann't deny his suit, yet I'de be loath
To flye into his armes; I would retain
Some modesty ith' height of passion.

Pan.
As I would not desire you should wooe,
So I would wish you would not be too stiffe,
One stubbornnesse may lose us both.

Eth.
I'le not wrong
The hopes of either, since to Tyrannize
Longer o're him, were to torment my self.

SCEN. 2.

To them Lysander walking silently.
Pan.
My dear Lysander,
Th'art opportunely welcome; for no time
Is thought unfit when to enjoy thy presence.
'Tis season at thy very Entrance.

(He walks by.)
Eth.
What? is he grown a Mummer?

Lys.
One of your
Making Lady.

Eth.
'Troth then you have forgot your vizard Sir,
My Maid shall fetch a mask.

Lys.
No Lady, I can be content for once
To look upon you through one pair of eyes.

Pan.
Come, do not thus revenge your self.

(still he walks by.)
Eth.
What? is Lysander come yet?

Lys.
Yes, and with him the neglect you taught him.

Eth.
Troth Sir,
I'de forgot the Mask, and was thinking to have
Sent for your self.

Lys.
Prithee good Lady send: faith not worth a servant.

Eth.
I have one Sir ready at call. Eudora.

To them Eudora.
Eud.
Madam.

Eth.
Go call Lysander hither.

Eud.

I go Madam. Lysander! Does not your Ladiship
mean Theocles?

Eth.

I tell thee Girle Lysander.

Eud.

Madam hee's there before you.

Eth.

O I cry thee mercy, are you the man? well, leave us.

Ex. Eud.
Lys.

I was once, and there are some here could wish
I were so still.

Pan.
There is indeed Lysander.
(he walks by.)
Still slighted? what a strange rage tears my divided breast?
See Sister, what a Monster your disdain hath
Made me; I'm not worth the speaking to:
Prithee calm him, and yeeld a little, I know
'Tis thy neglect to his friend Theocles,
That robs him thus of his Civility.

Eth.
I will endeavour.
Pray Sir, from whence rise these strange
Postures?

Lys.
You may inform your self.

Eth.
My Ignorance will not
Admit of a conjecture.

Lys.
Know then,
It is your cruelty to that best of men,
The faithful Theocles.

Eth.
This is stranger yet;
Suppose that true, yet how can this excuse
The sullennesse of your Temper?

Lys.
Thus;
You know my vowes are past so to regard
Panareta, as you do Theocles,
To whom your disrespect does bind my Faith
To shew her this disguis'd behaviour:
'Tis you, her Sister, wrongs her.

Eth.
I know not, but methinks I feel
Some yeelding passions; if there be a name
Next under Love, That, he hath won already,
I bear some good will towards Theocles.

Lys.
If you expect no more from me, that task
Is soon perform'd: I bear some good will too
Towards Panareta.

Pan.
'Las, that's a bounty
You have still granted me without a Suit;
I aym at somewhat higher.

Lys.
Pardon Lady,
My vow that keeps me off.

Pan.
Prithee Ethusa
Grow nearer in thy love to Theocles.
'Tis one advantage yet, since 'tis my Fate
To wooe, to beg help through a Sisters love.

Eth.
Lysander then I challenge all your vow;
That you affect constant Panareta, since
I now begin to honour Theocles.

Lys.
Then vanish hence all roughnesse; fairest Lady,
I now professe my self what I was forc'd to hide,
My self your humblest Creature.

Pan.
Blessed change:
'Tis Musick all thou speak'st: this late disorder
Heightens my joy: thus we owe thanks toth' cloud
That robs us of our Sun, that after he
May shew a face more washt and clean.

Lys.
But yet
I must needs grant there are some trifling vowes
Made to another love, fair Artemone,
Which I would fain forget.

Pan.
But dare you then
If she send back those vowes, and remit all
Your kinder promises; if she renounce
And slight your former love, dare you then place
Those vowes on me.

Lys.
By all the faith of oathes
Then I will love none but Panareta.

Pan.
Fixt in this confidence, I will no more
Be troubled with this torment Jealously.

Lys.
Nor shall you find just cause: you freely now
Dare trust my absence; There's a Passion burns
Strugling within my breast, which checks my love,
And tells me, I delay the news too long,
For want of which my Theocles doth languish.

Eth.
Confirm him strongly in my affection,
Leave him no scruple unresolv'd; tell him
I languish too, and shall expect his Visit.

Lys.
Worthy Madam thanks for these brave employments
(Ex. Lys.)

Pan.
I owe these joyes all unto Thee; nor yet
Shall I appear ungrateful, since I have us'd
No other means for my own happinesse,
But what may prove the readiest way to thine:
Thus thou enjoy'st Thy Theocles; thus thy love
Is like a vertuous Deed, it's own reward—

SCEN. 3.

To them Philonax.
[Pan.]
—Now Noble Philonax.

Phi.
It wrongs my Faith
To Artemone but to see that Face.

(aside.)
Pan.
Dare you not trust our Ears with what you whispers?
You were not wont to be alone with us.

Phi.
I dare, though what I speak be my own poyson.

Eth.
If he talk venom, will not his discourse
Blister our Eares? 'Faith mine begin to tingle already.

Phi.
Know then Panareta, since I left that Face
(In which resides my onely happinesse)
I thought I could forget it, and at length
I thought I might not love it: your disdain
Rais'd up these treasons, 'gainst the Majesty
Of your unequall'd beauty; then I strove
To love fair Artemone, as the white
Which Cupids shaft might easier penetrate:
I woo'd but with an ill successe: for she
Straight granted, and bethought her presently
Upon the Marriage; she talk'd nothing but
Wedding solemnities, and with such eagernesse
I thought her self would make the Bridal song:
It is agreed with all; Grave Melesippus
And sage Diarchus too have seal'd the Match
With their too free consents; my bus'nesse here
Was to take back those vowes, which yet your Scorn
Would ne're vouchsafe t'admit: but being uncharm'd
From Artemone, and again fetter'd
Within the glorious prison of your Face,
I must now beg that you deny my suite,
Y'ave strook a ray with those fair wounding Eyes
That chains my heart unto e'm.

Eth.
O the tricks
That love deceives with, how it never goes
Abroad with his own Face.

Pan.
But tell me, are you sure
That Artemone hath bestow'd her self
Freely on you? Do not mock my Fancy,
Which may be credulous against my self.

Phi.
As sure as I shall hazard all my fortunes
In your just hate, whom my still ardent flame
Pursues with a strong Faith.

Pan.
Then carry hence
This beam of comfort, if you dare affirm
Shee's false to her Lysander, that I thus
May be reveng'd of his unjust disdain,
Whil'st he shall lose all his best hopes in her,
You shall much please me, and soon meet my thanks.
Come Sister.

(Exe. Pan. Ethu.)
Phi.
Then happy Philonax who thus doth wooe
One Bride, that he may have the choice of two.
(Ex. Phil.)

SCEN. 4.

Mise. Pis. Lamp.
Pis.

Nay, but I prithee good Miserotos, hast thou thought on
the means whereby we might effect our Desires?

Lam.

I, that is it we desire to know.

Mis.

O you can speak plain language now.

Lam.

Yes 'faith, the power of love hath reform'd me, yet at
first I was very unweildy to be wrought into passable prose. But
to the Plot you promis'd.

Mis.

Then thus: You know your Mistresse hath enjoyn'd you
to change humours; you Pisistratus to make Sonnets altogether,

and speak nothing but rime: you Lamprias to fight and swagger
as he was wont.

Lam.

Yes, this we know too well, but which way we may
execute it, are altogether ignorant.

Mis.

I'le tell you: you Lamprias shall pen some verses which
Pisistratus shall deliver as his own.

Lam.

I, but what then? he cannot lend me any of his valour,
how shall he requite me?

Mis.

Be patient a while and mark; you shall make him besides
some other verses by way of common place, to furnish him
with an answer in rime upon most occasions. Now in lieu of this
Courtesie, he shall let you in the presence of his Mistresse give
him any opprobrious terms whatsoever, and with patience receive
3. or 4. blowes and kicks from you: which must needs
give a sufficient Testimony of your mutual change, and her
power that effected it.

Lam.

Thanks kind Miserotos; this plot is admirable: I'le pen
some thundering speech for my self, which if I have the grace
to pronounce with a brave courage, I am made for ever: But
I much fear, I shall hardly find in my heart to beat this Pisistratus,
I have found him alwaies so boysterous; and then I have
no skill at my weapon.

Mis.

O 'tis but practising a little, you may beat your man
or so.

Lam.

What if I practis'd first upon one of my Landladies
Maids?

Mis.

That's base and cowardly.

Lam.

Or one of her little boyes?

Mis.

Well, do as you will; but see that you look and speak
very couragiously.

Pis.

But what shall I do if he chance to ask me some questions,
to which I have no answer in verse?

Lam.

Why I'le tell you the trick on't; 'Tis but thinking of
two words that are rime first; and I'le warrant you with a very
little pain, you may screw some other words to make up the
verse: 'tis no great matter though one be sometimes shorter
then another; a cripple verse that halts upon crutches, sometimes
does very well, and moves compassion.

Pis.

Why look you, let's hear you rime, here's two words,
Armado, and Lansprisado.

Lam.
For your sake Madam, I fear not an Armado,
For I would kill e'm all with my Lansprisado.

Pis.
Very well: here's two other; Musket and Helmet.

Lam.

O Sir, that's no rime; you must by all means take a great
care that your verses fall in the like sound, or else you spoyl all.

Pis.

What if I read some of our late versifiers for exercise? for
I think there are none better to bring a man to a smooth familiar
stile of riming, then some of our Modern Poems that treat of
Executions, and Monsters born in other Countries.

Mis.

What Ballads?

Pis.

So I think they call e'm.

Mis.

Out upon e'm: treat of executions say you? it is one
to read e'm; and for Monsters, they can feign none so prodigious
as themselves: I'le be judg'd by your Friend Lamprias else.

Lam.

Indeed I alwaies esteem'd them scarce fit for a Gentlemans
survey; and yet since Watermen, and such people have
dabled in Poetry, I see no reason why they may not be gather'd
into a Volume, and call'd Works: Howsoever I believe it will
not be amisse for a young Sucking Poet as you are to take all advantage
of imitation.

Pis.

I, as if I had a mind to wish her happy, thus would I
rime.

God save your beauty Lady fair,
And send it long to raign;
And eke your loyal Servants all
In health and wealth maintain.

Lam.

Yes, yes, such may serve very well, being 'tis a way you
never were skill'd in: But I'le furnish you as well as I can with
verses and rimes to give an Answer to most questions, or else
stand by and prompt you. You'l keep counsel, and never be
discontented if it fall to my lot to enjoy her, as I promise in the
same case for you.

Pis.

Ne're doubt me; but be you sure you do not kick too
hard, for I shall be my self again presently if you do. Come let's
be gone, and prepare our selves.

(Exe. Pis. Lam.)
Mis.

I will by no means misse this sport, it will be excellent
mirth to hear the Captain thunder out his amorous soft strains,
and my t'other friend whine out some bombast speech in a lamentable
amorous tone: I'le be sure to follow e'm.

(Ex. Mis.)

SCEN. 5.

Lysander
alone.
I do repent thy wrongs vertuous Panareta;
And will release the Injuries, and now strive
To love in earnest; I'le repeat her sighes
With a true groan, I'le mock her misery
No more with grief printed but forehead deep,
I know her love is as her vertues are,
Intire and constant: But what rebellion
Weighs down my soul? And can I spend a passion
In any besides Artemones Name?
She is all Faith and beauty, there my heart
Chain'd with the strength of vowes hath fixt it self.
Where I am equally belov'd of two,
'Tis not ingratitude but my destiny
To forsake one: I should love Artemone,
But must Panareta. O where's my Friend,
The News I carry will chear him, though't wound
The Man that tells it: I have won Ethusa
Unto his bosome, but I've lost my self.

To him Theocles.
The.
What Friend, alone?

Lys.
No; for I'm never dispossest of Thee,
And thy fair Sister.

The.
'Tis one of those good faults
We cannot quarrel at: but I could wish
That you were freer with Panareta.

Lys.
And I, that I were quite releas'd her sight!
I've bin too free already, and so far
Have yeelded though against my self,
That she hath gain'd Ethusa to your love:
And I am now sadly imploy'd from her
To tell you she is yours. Pardon Friend,
If I can spin a grief out from the webbe
Of your delights, suck poyson from your Joy:
'Tis not well done to put me on these snares
And thorns of Friendship, There are smoother waies
To shew an unmolested courtesie,
And we might love at ease.

The.
Though I am glad
At these good tydings; yet I cannot choose
But grieve you envy them: I hope you will not
Accuse my friendship as it were a burden.

Lys.
Then let my tongue be blasted. But how e're
'Tis in thy power to give a greater ease.
As I've known men strong and healthful, yet
Admit of Physick, though I dare not say
I'm sick, yet certainly I should appear
More vigorous if thou would'st cease to love
Ethusa.

The.
If a friends breath can poyson,
There is a hot infection now taints thine.

Lys.
Be not yet too rash: y'ave call'd me friend,
And would you then grow strong out of my Ruines?

The.
Heavens forbid!

Lys.
Then see the Labyrinth in which I tread,
I wooe Panareta in this disguise,
Onely to win her Sister to your love:
Whil'st thus I sue, that great Man Philonax
Bends his Devotion towards my Goddesse,
And is my dangerous Rival in your Sister,
Now if you'd free me from this Vizard love,
Then were my Artemone free from him,
Who then would seize on fair Panareta,
From whom 'tis onely my pretence hath barr'd him.

The.
And would you have me then not love Ethusa?
'Twas but a vain request, while my best Faith
Was answer'd with the violence of scorn:
But now being strengthened with a mutual Love
What fury can remove it?

Lys.
How I'm made up
Onely of wavering! I must not see
A Friend thus plung'd whilst I within my Power
Can grasp the Remedy. Know then, friend Theocles,
Though through my own misfortune I'le maintain
Thy happinesse in its due height, methinks
If Love to her must breed neglect to thee
I now could cancel Artemones vowes.

The.
O ye wonder of what was e're stil'd friendship!
It were my Heaven if that thy Love to her
Did not make faint, and cool Ethusa's heat,
What now is warm'th might burn into a flame,
If thou could'st truly love Panareta.

Lys.
I can, and shall not henceforth act thy love,
Nor wooe as Proxie longer. I'le not be
Onely a bare naked Interpreter,
Nor spend my Suit in a third person more,
I will professe my own vowes, and implore
A med'cine which may cure a maladie
Fest'ring within this breast: I see her love
Settled, and though affronted with neglect,
Unshaken still; I meet no obstacles,
No threatning Father, nor too covetous Uncle,
The Reins are in her own hands; she enjoyes
A full command over her self, but that
Sh'hath given the power to me.

The.
Being thus confirm'd,
I'le rip my breast afore thee, and uncase
A secret which till now I durst not utter.

Lys.
A Secret! Heavens, how have I lost my Faith,
That ought between us two should be conceal'd?
I thought till now thy breast was made of glasse,
And lay as open to my curious view,
As that Face doth.

The.
Call back thy former temper,
When y'ave heard more, you may perhaps confesse
I ought to hide it.

Lys.
Prithee then quickly speak,
That I may be thy Friend again: for sure
That name is lost whiles there remains a Secret.

The.
Then since thou lovest Panareta, know my Sister
Believes as much, and first hath cast thee off,
It was my Plot (pardon good Lysander,
Onely that one word which ere yet stain'd my Friendship)
I workt her into this suspition,
Told her she was forsaken, and Panareta
Become her Rival; then she left thee too.
Thus neither guilty, you have both cast off
Each other first; my end in this contrivance
Was to new plant thy Love, and make it firm
Where 'twas but counterfeit, that I might thus
Sooner Enjoy Ethusa.

Lys.
Have you now
Vented your secret, is it quite out?

The.
It is,
But I could wish that it were clos'd up still
Within the private Cabin of my breast,
Your frown hath made me thus unloyal.

Lys.
Sure
'Twas not well done then to be treacherous,
When I my best faith and my falshood too
Bestow'd upon thy safety—But I'm grown
Too calm: If I should now consider Thee
In thy first love, that thou wert once a friend,
This were to season Madnesse with Discretion;
And I should rave with Judgment: Ballance all
Thy better deeds with this one Injury,
They cannot weigh down my Revenge: then draw,
That I may cut thee and thy false love off
From any Title to my wounded heart.

The.
Sheath up your Sword and anger; let not thus
Your passion rule, that you may after say
Y'ave lost a friend.

Lys.
Base villain draw.

The.
If y'are so rash not to consider me,
At least remember your own spotlesse honour,
The Noblenesse with which you heretofore
Were wont to fight, would scorn to take advantage,
Know then your challenge aymes at one that is
Already wounded; your severer tongue
Worse then the fiercest rage your Sword can bring,
Hath almost slain me.

Lys.
Fy, do not thus increase
The wrong th'ast done me; let me not be forc'd
To kill the yeilding; for my own fames sake
At least do one good deed, and to redeem
The scandal which thus brands my Innocence,
Die with thy sword in hand.

The.
If y'are resolv'd
Upon my death, inflict it; be it ne're said,
(What ever the disgrace my tongue hath done)
I took up armes against my friend.

Lys.
Ile tear
That Name from thy false throat; to be thy freind
Is to be treacherous, a Sin which yet
Could never reach Lysander; which my sword
(A name to me allmost as dear as fayth)
Shall thus maintain.

The.
Then since I needs must draw,
'Tis with thy hand I do it.

Lys.
Take my thanks
Yet for this latest Curtesy.

(They fight.)
(Theo. wounded.)

SCEN. 6.

To them Melesip. Diarchus. Philonax. Artem. Hypera.
Mel.
O my son Theocles!

Art.
O my Brother, my
Dear Brother.

Diar.
What sadnesse do we see? where is the Author?

Phi.
Here, 'tis base Lysander.

Mel.

You Artemone take care of Theocles; see the best
Surgeons be quickly sent for.

The.
Be not thus tender, 'tis but a scratch h'hath given me.

(Exe. The. Art. Hyp.)
Mel.
O false Lysander! canst thou pretend love
Born to our family, and yet thus wrong
The best part of it?

Diar.
Brother, y'are too mild,
'Tis not discourse, but law must right us.

Phi.
Let us strait tear a Satisfaction
Out of his Inmost bowels.

Mel.
Noble Sir,
We must not head one quarrel with a new one,
Here's too much blood already.

Lys.
I have not thus
Stood silent, that I might with leisure frame
Some Innocent Apology; I've heard
And seen your griefs, which I my self have born:
Th' Amazement which is stuck in all your browes,
Is fixt within my heart too, this same hand
Wonders as much at what is done as you,
And I can scarce believe 'twas I that did it:
Let Melesippus and Diarchus know
I pity their misfortune as my own.

Diar.
But pray Sir let's know what reason was't
That rais'd this Tumult.

Mel.
You were wont to joyn
In close Embraces of another kind.
What should thus change your greeting?

Lys.
Some few rash words too bad to be rehearst.

Diar.
'Tis now past hiding, you must shew the cause
To us, or to the rack.

Lys.
I cannot utter it.

Mel.
Lead on then, we must put you in the charge
Of a strong guard if the wound be dangerous.

(Exe. Omnes.)