 | The Jealous Lovers |  |
ACTUS II.
SCEN. I.
Asotus, Ballio.Asot.
Revenge more sweet then muscadine and egges,
To day I will embrace thee. Healths in bloud
Are souldiers mornings draughts. Proud, proud Evadne
Shall know what 'tis to make a wit her foe,
And such a wit as can give overthrow
To male or female, be they—man or woman.
This can my Tutour do, and I, or—no man.
Ball.
And Pamphilus shall learn by this deare knock
His liberall valour late bestowed upon me,
Invention lies at safer ward then wit:
This sword shall teach not to provoke the cruell.
Asot.
And by this jemme shall I confound a jewell.
S'lid, Tutour, I have a wit too, there was a jest ex tempore.
SCEN. II.
Asotus, Ballio, Tyndarus.Tyn.
Physicians say, there's no disease so dangerous
As when the Patient knows not he is sick.
Such, such is mine. I could not be so ill,
Did I but know I were not well. The fear
Of dangers but suspected, is more horrid
17
During the storm, shake at the thoughts of death:
Who when his eyes beheld a certain ruine,
Died hugging of the wave. Were Evadne true
I were too blest; or could I say she's false,
I could no more be wretched.—I am well:
My pulse beats musick, and my lively bloud
Dances a healthfull measure.—Ha! What's this
Gnaws at my heart? what viperous shirt of Nessus
Cleaves to my skin, and eats away my flesh?
'Tis some infection.—
Asot.
Tutour, let's be gone.
O' my life we are dead men else.
Tyn.
My Asotus?
Asot.
Keep your infection to your self.
Tyn.
'Tis love
Is my infection.
Asot.
Nay, then I care not, Tyndarus:
For that is an epidemicall disease,
And is the finest sicknesse in the world
When it takes two together.
Tyn.
Deare, deare self!
How fares the darling of the age? Say, what successe?
Asot.
Did not I tell you, Sir, that I was born
With a caul upon my face? My mother wrapt me
In her own smock. The females fall before me
Like trembling doves before the towring hawk,
While o're the spoils in triumph thus I walk.
Ball.
So he takes virgins with his amorous eye,
As spiders web intraps the tender flie.
Asot.
True, Tutour, true: for I wooe 'um with cobweb-lawn.
Tyn.
I know the rest of women may be frail,
Brittle as glasses: but my Evadne stands
A rock of Parian marble, firm and pure.
The crystall may be tainted, and rude feet
Profane the milkie way: The Phœnix self,
Although but one,—no virgin: E're I harbour
Dishonourable thoughts of that bright maid!
No Tyndarus, reflect upon thy self,
Turn thine eyes inward, see thine own unworthinesse
That does thy thoughts to this suspicion move:
She loves thee not, 'cause thou deserv'st no love.
18
I do not know where the inchantment lies,
Whether it be the magick of mine eyes,
Or lip, or cheek, or brow:—but I suppose
The conjuration chiefly in my nose.
Evadne, Sir, is mine, and woo'd me first.
Troth 'tis a pretie lasse; and for a woman
She courts in handsome words, and now and then
A polite phrase, and such a feeling appetite,
That having not a heart of flint or steel,
As mine's an easier temper,—I consented
To give her, in the way of almes, a night
Or so:—You guesse the meaning.
Tyn.
Too too well.
And must her lust break into open flames,
To lend the world a light to view her shames?
Could not she taste her Page? or secretly
Admit a tuft-back'd Groom into her arms?
Or practise with her Doctour, and take Physick
In a close room? But thus, good heavens, to take
Her stallions up i'th' streets! While sin is modest
It may be healed; but if it once grow impudent,
The fester spreads above all hopes of cure.
I never could observe so strange a boldnesse
In my Evadne. I have seen her cheeks
Blush, as if modesty her self had there
Layn in a bed of corall.—But how soon
Is vertue lost in women!
Ball.
Mistake us not,
Deare Tyndarus, Evadne may be chaste
To all the world—but him. And as for him,
Diana's self, or any stricter goddesse
Would loose the Virgin-zone. I have instill'd
Magnetique force into him, that attracts
Their iron hearts, and fashions them like steel
Upon the anvile, to what shape he please.
He knows the minute, the precise one minute,
No woman can hold out in. Come to me, Sir,
I'le teach you in one fortnight by Astrologie
To make each Burgesse in all Thebes—your cuckold.
19
As sillie lambes do fill the wolves black jaw,
And fearfull harts the generous lions paw,
As whales eat lesser fries; so may you see
The matrons, maids, and widows stoop to mee.
Tyn.
O do not hold me longer in suspence:
The prisoner at the barre may with lesse fear
Heare the sad sentence of his death pronounc'd,
Then stand the doubfull triall. Pray confirm me.
Asot.
Know you this Jewel?
Tyn.
O my sad heart-strings crack!
Asot.
If your Evadne be a Phœnix, Tyndarus,
Some ten moneths hence you may have more o'th' breed.
Tyn.
This did I give her, and she vow'd to keep it
By all the oaths religion knew. No Deity
In all the court of heaven but highly suffers
In this one perjurie. The diamond
Keeps his chaste lustre still, when she has foiled
A glorie of more worth then all those toyes
Proud folly gave such price to.
Asot.
This? a prety toy;
But of no value to my other trophies
That the frail tribe has sent me. Your best jewels
Are to be found, Sir, in the weaker vessels,
And that's a mysterie. I have sweat out such
Variety of trifles, their severall kindes
Would pose a learned lapidary: my closet,
By some that knew me not for Cupids favourite,
Has been mistaken for a Jewellers shop.
Ball.
And then for ribbands, points, for knots and shoe-strings,
Or to slip higher, garters, no Exchange
Affords such choice of wares.
Asot.
Phœbus whip
Thy lazy team, run headlong to the West,
I long to taste the banquet of the night.
Sir, if you please, when I am surfetted
To take a prety breakfast of my leavings,—
Tyn.
Where art thou patience? Hence contagious mists
That would infect the aire of her pure fame:
My sword shall purge you forth, base drosse of men,
From her refined metall.
Asot.
Blesse me, Tutour,
20
Tyn.
Why should I
Afflict my self for her? No, let her vanish.
Shall I retain my love, when she has lost
The treasure of her vertue? Stay, perchance
Her innocence may be wronged. Said I, perchance?
That doubt will call a curse upon my head
To plague my unbelief.—But here's a witnesse
Of too too certain truth stands up against her.
Me thinks the flame that burnt so bright dies in me.
I am no more a captive, I have shak'd
My fetters off, and broke those gyves of steel
That bound me to my thraldome.—My fair prison
Adiew.—How sweetly breaths this open aire?
My feet grown wanton with their libertie,
Could dance and caper till I knockt at heaven
With my advanced head. Come deare Asotus,
There are no pleasures but they shall be ours.
We will dispeople all the elements
To please our palates. Midnight shall behold
Our nightly cups, and weare a blacker mask,
As envious of our jollities. The whole sex
Of women shall be ours. Merchants shall proffer
Their tender brides. Mothers shall run and fetch
Their daughters (e're they yet be ripe) to satisfie
Our liquorish lusts. Then Tityrus happy call,
That loosing one fair maid has purchas'd all.
Asot.
You have an admirable methode, Tutour,
If this fellow has not been i' my heart, I'le be hang'd,
He speaks my minde so pat. Ha, boon couragio—
Ball.
You see what more then miracles art can do.
Tyn.
And when we have runne o're the catalogue
Of former pleasures, thou, and I, and Ballio
Will sit and study new ones. I will raise
A sect of new and rare Philosophers,
Shall from my name be call'd Tyndarides.
Asot.
And I will raise another sect like these,
That shall from me be call'd—Asotides.
21
Must quaffe a bowl of rare philosophie,
To pledge the health of his Tyndarides.
Tyn.
Come, blest restorer of my libertie.
Asot.
If any friend of yours want libertie
In such a kinde as this, you may command me.
For if the brave Tyndarides be not free,
Th' Asotides shall grant them libertie.
Tyn.
We will be frolick, boy; and e're we part,
Remember thee, Thou mighty man of art.
Exeunt Tyndar, & Asot.
SCEN. III.
Ballio, Techmessa.Ball.
There is besides revenge a kinde of sweetnesse
In acting mischief. I could hug my head,
And kisse the brain that hatches such deare rogueries,
Such loving loving rogueries.—Silly Pamphilus,
With thine own sword I'le kill thee, and then trample
On the poore foolish carcase. Techmessa here?
Then fortune wait on my designes, and crown 'um
With a successe as high as they deserve.
Tech.
Me thinks sometimes I view my Pamphilus
Cloth'd Angel-like in white, and spotlesse robes,
And straight upon a sudden my chang'd fancy
Presents him black and horrid, all a stain,
More loathsome then a leper.
Ball.
And that fancy
Presents him in his likenesse. All the sinks
And common shores in Thebes are cleanly to him.
Tech.
Peace, thou foul tongue.
Ball.
Nay, if you be so squeamish,
I ha' no womanish itch to prate.—Farewell.
Tech.
Nay, do not leave me unresolv'd, good Ballio.
Ball.
Why, I did set you out in more vile colours
Then ever cunning pencill us'd to limbe,
Witch, hag, or fury with.
Tech.
Thou couldst not do't,
And live.
Ball.
I am no ghost, flesh and bloud still.
22
And such as might do service to the State,
Made into halters: that you had a brow
Hung o're your eyes like flie-flaps: that your eyes
Were like two powdring-tubs, either running o're,
Or full of standing brine: your cheeks were sunk
So low and hollow, they might serve the boyes
For cherripits.—
Tech.
Could Pamphilus heare all this,
And not his bloud turn choler?
Ball.
This? and more.
I said your nose was like a hunters horn,
And stood so bending up a man might hang
His hat upon't: that I mistook the yeare,
And alwayes thought it Winter, when I saw
Two icicles at your nostrils.
Tech.
Have I lost
All woman, that I can with patience heare
My self thus injur'd?
Ball.
I could beat my self
For speaking it, but 'twas to sound him, Madam.
I said you had no neck: your chin and shoulders
Were so good friends, they would ha' nothing part 'um:
I vow'd your breasts, for colour and proportion,
Were like a writheld pair of o'reworn footballs:
Your waste was slender, but th' ambitious buttock
Climbes up so high about, who sees you naked
Might sweare you had been born with a vardingal.
Tech.
I am e'ne frighted with thy strange description.
Ball.
I left, asham'd and weary: he goes on,
There be more chops and wrinckles in her lips,
Then on the earth in heat of Dog-dayes: and her teeth
Look like an old park-pale: She has a tongue
Would make the deaf man blesse his imperfection
That frees him from the plague of so much noise:
And such a breath (heaven shield us) as out-vies
The shambles and bear-garden for a sent.
Tech.
Was ever such a fury?
Ball.
For your shoulders,
He thinks they were ordain'd to underprop
Some beam o'th' Temple, and that's all the use
Religion can make of you: Then your feet,
23
He vowes they both are cloven.
Tech.
Had all malice
Dwelt in one tongue, it could not scandall more.
Is this the man adores me as his saint?
And payes his morning orisons at my window
Duly as at the Temple? Is there such hypocrisie
In loves religion too? Are Venus doves
But white dissemblers? Is this that Pamphilus
That shakes and trembles at a frown of mine,
More then at thunder? I must have more argument
Of his apostasie, or suspect you false.
Ball.
Whose sword is this?
Tech.
'Tis his. And this I tied
About the hilt, and heard him sweare to fight
Under those colours, the most faithfull souldier
The fields of Mars or tents of Cupid knew.
False men, resigne your arms. Let us go forth
Like bands of Amazons: for your valours be
Not upright fortitude, but treacherie.
Ball.
I urg'd him in a language of that boldnesse,
As would have fir'd the chillest veins in Thebes,
To stand in your defence, or els resigne
The fruitlesse steel he wore. He bid me take it.
He had not so much of Knight errant in him,
To vow himself champion to such a doxie.
Tech.
Then Love, I shoot thy arrows back again,
Return 'um to thy quiver, guide thy arm
To wound a breast will say the dart is welcome,
And kisse the golden pile. I am possest
With a just anger, Pamphilus shall know
My scorn as high as his.
Ball.
Bravely resolv'd.
Madam, report not me to Pamphilus
Authour of this: for valour should not talk,
And fortitude would loose it self in words.
Tech.
I need no other witnesse then his sword.
24
SCEN. IIII.
Ballio, Asotus, Tyndarus, Techmessa.Tyn.
Techmessa? never did I understand
The sweets of life till now. I will pronounce
This for my birth-day.
Tech.
And this happy minute
Has clear'd my soul too of the same disease.
Asot.
Then do as Tyndarus did, and go with me,
Wee'l drink a pottle to Libertie, and another
Pottle to th' Asotides, and a pottle to the Tyndarides,
And a fourth to the She-philosophers ycleped—Techmessides.
SCEN. V.
Ballio, Asotus, Tyndarus, Techmessa, Pamphilus.Tyn.
Pamphilus, welcome: Shake thy sorrows off,
Why in this age of freedome dost thou sit
A captiv'd wretch? I do not feel the weight
Of clay about me. Am I not all aire?
Or of some quicker element? I have purg'd out
All that was earth about me, and walk now
As free a soul as in the separation.
Pam.
Brother, if any stream of joy can mix
With such a sea of grief as mine, and loose not
His native sweetnesse, 'tis a joy for you.
But I am all bitternesse.
Ball.
Now, Asotus,
The Comedie begins.
Pam.
When will my sufferings
Make my atonement with my angry goddesse?
Do you celestiall sorms retain an anger
Eternall as your substance?
Tech.
O fine hair!
An amorous brow, a prety lovely eye,
A most delicious cheek, a handsome nose!
How Nectar-sweet his lips are? and his teeth,
Like two fair ivory pales, inclose a tongue
Made up of harmonie. Then he has a chin
So full of ravishing dimples, it were pity
25
Past all expression comely.
Pam.
Do not adde
Contempt to cruelty. Madam, to insult
Upon a prostrate wretch, is harder tyranny
Then to have made him so.
Tech.
And then a shoulder
Straight as the pine or cedar.
Pam.
Courteous death
Take wings, thou art too slow.
Tech.
I could not heare
Those precious parts defam'd, but I durst fight
In the just quarrell.
Tyn.
'Tis a touchy Tiger.
How happy am I that have scap't the dens
Of these she-wolves!
Ball.
Now my safetie lies
Upon a ticklish point—a womans secrecie.
Madam, my reputation is deare to me.
Pam.
In what a maze I wander! how my sorrows
Run in a labyrinth!
Tech.
I'le unriddle it.
Ball.
St, St. The honour of a man at arms.
Tech.
Then know, thou perjur'd Pamphilus, I have learnt
Neglect from thee.
Pam.
Madam, I am all love:
And if the violence of my flame had met
With any heart but marble, I had taught it
Some spark of my affection.
Ball.
Now it heats.
Tech.
No doubt the flame is violent, and must work
Upon a breast so capable as mine.
Asot.
I think Cupid be turn'd jugler. Here's nothing but Hocas
pocas, Præsto be gon, Come again Jack; and such feats of
activitie.
Tech.
But I must tell you, you are false and perjur'd,
Or, what is more, a coward. Tell me, Sir,
(To Asotus.
For I suppose you of a noblersoul.
If you should heare your mistresse by rude tongues
Wrong'd in the graces both of minde and beauty,
Could you have suffered it?
Asot.
Madam, were you made
From bones of Hercules, and brawn of Atlas,
And daughter were to Gargantua great,
And wrong my mistresse: you should heare my rage
Provoke my blade, and cry, Blade, canst thou sleep
26
And lion-like roar this disdainfull wight
To Plutoes shades and ghosts of Erebus.
Tech.
Yet you, my valiant champion, could resigne
This (if you know it) rather then endure
The terrour of your own steel, to redeem
My bleeding honours.
Pam.
How am I betray'd,
And fall'n into the toyles of treacherie!
Give me a man bold as that earth-born race
That bid Jove battell, and besieg'd the gods;
And if I make him not creep like a worm
Upon his belly, and with reverence
Lick up the dust you scatter from your shoe,
May I for ever loose the light I live in,
The sight of you.
Tec.
I'le try your spirits, Phronesium,
(Enter Phrone. & exit rursus, & statim intrat cum gladio
Tyn.
That bloud of goats should soften Adamant!
And poore weak woman with an idle face
Should make the souldier to forget his valour,
And man his sex!
Enter Phronesium.
SCEN. VI.
Ballio, Tyndarus, Asotus, Techmessa, Pamphilus, Phronesium.Tech.
Here's a champion for you.
Phron.
Come, Sir, this sword be yours, and if you dare
Maintain the lists against me, as I fear
Your bloud is whey by this time, by your valour
You may redeem your honour, and your sword.
Asot.
This is another Hercules come from the distaff.
Phron.
If not, I do proclaim thee here, no Knight,
But meane to post thee up for a vile varlet,
And the disgrace of Chivalrie.
Pam.
O my shame!
Asot.
A dainty Lady errant.
Ball.
A fine piece
Of female fortitude.
Phron.
If this stirre thee not,
27
A dirtie filthy huswife.
Pam.
Would it were not
Dishonour now to kill thee!
Phron.
If your valour
Lie in your back-parts, I will make experience
(Whether a kick will raise it. Pray go fetch him
Some aqua vitæ: for the thought of steel
Has put him in a swound: Nothing revive you?
Then will I keep thy sword, and hang it up
Amongst my busk-points, pins, and curling-irons.
Bodkins, and vardingals, a perpetuall trophie
Exit Phron.
How brave a Knight you are.
Pam.
Where shall I run
And finde a desert, that the foot of man
Nere wandred in, to hide from the worlds eyes
My shame! S'death, every Page, and sweaty Footman,
And sopie chambermaid will point and laugh at me.
Tyn.
I joy to think that I shall meet Evadne
Turn'd on the sudden Moor. How black and vile
She will appeare!
SCEN. VII.
Ballio, Tyndarus, Asotus, Techmessa, Pamphilus, Evadne.Tyn.
O heavens! who will not dare
Henceforth to scorn your powers, and call sacriledge
Merit and pietie? I do not see
A hair deform'd, no tooth or nail sustain
The brand of her deserved shame. You punish't
The Queen of beauty with a mole; but certainly
Her perjury hath added to her form,
And that the abused gods bribe her with beauty,
As th' wrack'd tenant strives to buy the favour
Of his imperious Landlord.
Evad.
Gentle Tyndarus,
Load not weak shoulders with too great a burthen.
Tyn.
O lust! on what bright altars blaze thy flames,
While chastity lets her cold fires glow out
In deform'd temples, and on ruin'd altars!
28
And can with jewels, rings, and other toyes
Purchase your journeymen-letchers.
Evad.
My chaste eare
Has been a stranger to such words as these,
I have not sinne enough to understand 'um,
And wonder where my Tyndarus learnt that language.
Tyn.
I am turn'd eagle now, and have an eye
Dares boldly gaze on that adulterate sunne.
I must be short. Who must this ring direct
Into your guilty sheets?
Evad.
I do not know
How I should lose that pledge of my Lords love:
But 'tis not in the power of any thief
To steal away the heart I have vowed yours:
And would to all the gods I had kept it there!
Asot.
Come, blush not bashfull bellipiece—I will meet thee.
I ever keep my word with a fair lady.
I will requite that jewell with a richer.
The glorious heavens arayd in all their starres
Shall not outshine thee. Be not, girle, asham'd.
These are acquainted with it. I would vex 'um
To night with the remembrance of those sports
We shall enjoy, then pleasures double rise
When both we feed, and they shall Tantalize.
Evad.
It is not manly in you, Sir, to ruine
A virgins fame, with hazard of your own.
Asot.
Tut, lasse, no matter, we'le be manly anon.
Tyn.
A fine dissembler! ha! what tumults here?
Enter Pægnium and officers.
SCEN. VIII.
Ballio, Tyndarus, Asotus, Techmessa, Evadne, Pamphilus, Tyndarus, Pægnium, and officers.Pag.
That's he, I charge you apprehend the villain.
1. Offic.
Villain, we reprehend thee.
Ball.
Slaves, for what?
2. Offic.
For an arrant cutpurse: you stole away this little Gentlemans
sword; and being done by chance-medly, 'tis flat
felony by statute.
29
I thank thee Innocence. Though earth disclaim
Thy title, heaven denies thee not protection.
Pæg.
Confesse, or I will have thee instantly
Hang'd for a signe on thine own post.
Ball.
Well, villany
Thou wilt not thrive. Sir, for 'twas you I wrong'd:
I do confesse the sword by which I rais'd
So strange a scandal on you, was by me
Stoln from your Page, as he delivered letters
From you to your Techmessa; and the plot
Was fashion'd by her mother, though ill fortune
Made me th' unlucky instrument.
Asot.
Cursed Tutour,
Thou hast read nothing to me worth the learning,
But the high-way to th' gallows. There shall we
Hang up like vermine. Little did I think
To make the women weep and sob to see
Th' untimely end of two such proper men.
This mouth was never made to stand awry,
And sure my neck was long enough before.
Lady, upon my humbled knees I beg
Pardon for faults committed, I acknowledge
That striving with fellonious intent
To steal a kisse or two from your sweet lips,
From your sweet care I stole a ring away.
Pæg.
For which your sweet neck must endure the halter.
Tyn.
I am again thy servant, mighty love!
O my Evadne, how shall I appeare
So bold as but to plead in mine own cause?
It is so foul that none can seal my pardon,
But you that should condemne me.
Evad.
Sir, you know
The power I have is yours: be your own judge,
And seal your pardon here.
Tyn.
'Tis double life
Granted by such a seal.
Tech.
What punishment
Shall we inflict on these?
Asot.
Gentle Ladie,
E'ne what you please,—but hanging,—that's a death
My enemies will hit me in the teeth with.
Besides, it makes a man look like a Cat
When she cries mew.
Ball.
I'le bark and bite awhile
30
Asot.
Pray dismisse
This pack of hounds: and since we both are guilty,
Let us bestow on one anothers shoulders
The good and wholsome counsell of a cudgell.
Pæg.
Pray let me intercede.
Asot.
Thanks, prety little Gentleman.
Tyn.
Officers, you are discharged.
Asot.
Are the madde dogs gone?
Exeunt officers.
Come Tutour, I must read awhile to you
Under correction.—Not so hard, good Tutour.
Tyn.
Enough.
Asot.
Nay, one bout I beseech you more
To make up satisfaction.
Ball.
Well for this
I'le have one engine more, my bad intents
Mend not, but gather strength by punishments.
Tyn.
Your satisfaction now is full and ample.
Asot.
Nay, we must have the health i'th' crabtree-cup too:
One to th' Tyndarides, another to th' Asotides,
And one, my deare instructour, to the Techmessides.
Pam.
Nay, now your penance doth exceed your crime.
Asot.
Say you so? nay, then here's a health to the Pamphilides too:
And for his noble sake, to the Evadnides,
And all Philosophy sects what e're they be.
Evad.
Your justice to your selves is too severe.
Asot.
Then I ha' done: farewell, and hearty thanks.
But, Tutour, stay, this little Gentleman
Has been forgot:—Pray, Sir, what may I call you?
Pæg.
My name is Pægnium.—
Asot.
I were most unthankfull
To passe o're you.—To the Pægniades, Tutour:
You have brought us to a fair passe, Tutour.
Ball.
Tush,
'Twas but to exercise your passive valour.
Asot.
Your passive valour? give me your active valour:
I do not like your black and blue valour,
When bones shall ake with magnanimity.
Exeunt Asot. Ball. Pæg.
31
SCEN. IX.
Tyndarus, Pamphilus, Evadne, Techmessa.Tyn.
Brother, I finde my soul a troubled sea
Whose billows are not fully quieted,
Although the storm be over. Therefore, Pamphilus,
By the same wombe that bred us, and the breasts
Of our dead mother Lalage, I conjure thee,
With all the charms that love can teach thee,
Assault Evadnies faith: if thou report her
Constant, I end my jealousie: if frail,
The torrent of my love shall bend his course
To finde some other chanel.
Pam.
By that love
That made us twins, though born at severall births,
That grew along with us in height and strength,
I will be true. Farewell.
Tyn.
Be sudden, Pamphilus.
Exit Tyn.
Evad.
Me thinks this should confirm you.
Tech.
That he was not
Guilty of this, acquits him not of all:
To prove a man free from an act of theft,
Assoils him not of murder. No, no, sister,
Tempt him with kisses, and what other dalliance
Craft and indulgent nature hath taught woman
To raise hot youth to appetite; if he yeeld not,
I will put off distrust. I do not know
Whom I durst trust but you.
Evad.
Though mine own love
Finde me enough of businesse, yet in hope
That you will second me in my occasions,
I undertake the task.
Tech.
Take heed Evadne,
Lest while you counterfeit a flame, you kindle
A reall fire.—I dare not be too confident.
Hence will I closely pry into their actions,
And overheare their language; for if my sister
See with my eyes, she cannot choose but love him
In the same height with me.
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SCEN. X.
Pamphilus, Evadne, Techmessa in insidiis.Pam.
It grieves me that a Lady of your worth,
Young, soft, and active as the spring, the starre
And glory of our nation, should be prodigall
Of your affections, and misplace your love
On a regardlesse boy.
Evad.
Sir, the same pitie
I must return on you. Were I a man
Whom all the Ladies might grow rivals for
(As lesse you cannot be) I would not lose
My service to a Mistresse of so coy
And proud an humour:—True, she is my sister,
But the same wombe produces severall natures.
I should have entertain'd so great a blessing
With greater thankfulnesse.
Pam.
That my starres should be
So crosse unto my happinesse!
Evad.
And my fate
So cruell to me!
Pam.
Sweet, it is in us
To turn the wheel of Fortune; she's a goddesse
That has no deity where discretion reignes.
Evad.
But shall I wrong my sister?
Pam.
Do not I
Give just exchange, and lose a brother for her?
Our sufferings have been equall, and their prides.
They must be equall necks that can draw even
In the same yoke.
Evad.
I have observ'd, the chariot
Of the great Cyprian Queen links not together
The dove with sparrows; but the turtle joynes
With turtles, and the sparrow has his mate.
Pam.
See if one softnesse kisse not in our lips.
Evad.
One lip not meets the other with more sympathy,
Then yours met mine.
Pam.
Let's make the second triall.
SCEN. XI.
Techmessa, Pamphilus, Evadne.Tech.
I can endure no longer,—Gentle sister.
Evad.
I cannot blame your jealousie: for I finde—
33
Too much of sweetnesse in his amorous lips.
There is no tie in nature, faith in bloud
Is but a thing that should be. Brothers, sisters,
Fathers, and mothers are but specious names
Of love and dutie: you and I have been
But guests in the same wombe, that at first meeting
Change kinde and friendly language, and next morning
Fall out before they part, or at least ride
Contrary rodes.
Evad.
Will you then misconster
The service I perform'd at your request?
Tech.
Henceforth I'le set the Kite to keep my chickens,
And make the Wolf my shepheard.
SCEN. XII.
Evadne, Techmessa, Pamphilus, Tyndarus.Tyn.
Pamphilus, how is't?
Pam.
I know not how to answer thee.
She met me with more courtship then I tender'd.
Tech.
Sir we are both abus'd, and the same wombe
That gave us life was fruitfull to our ruine.
Your traitour weares the mask call'd Brother: mine
As cunning a disguise, the name of Sister.
These eyes are witnesse that descried 'um kissing
Closer then cockles, and in lustfull twines
Outbid the ivy, or the circling arms
Of winding vines. Their hot embraces met
So neare, and folded in so close a knot,
As if they would incorporate, and grow one.
Tyn.
Then farewell all respect of bloud and friendship,
I do pronounce thee stranger. If there can be
Valour in treachery, put thy trust in steel
As I do, not in brothers.—Draw, or die.
Pam.
Brother.
Tyn.
I hate the name, it is a word
Whets my just anger to a sharper edge.
Pam.
Heare me.
Tyn.
I will no pleading but the sword.
Wert thou protected by Apollo's temple,
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Religion should not binde me from thy death.
Couldst thou retreat into my mothers wombe,
There my revenge should finde thee. I am sudden,
And talk is tedious.
Pam.
Beare me witnesse heaven,
This action is unwilling.
SCEN. XIII.
Pamphilus, Tyndarus, Techmessa, Evadne, Chremylus, Dypsas.Chrem.
Put up for shame those rude unhallowed blades,
And let not rash opinion of a valour
Perswade you to be Parricides. Pray remember
You thirst but your own bloud. He that o'recomes
Loses the one half of himself.
Tynd.
Deare Chremylus,
The reverence to your age hath tied my hands:
But were my threed of life measur'd by his,
I'de cut it off, though we both fell together;
That my incensed soul might follow his,
And to eternity prosecute my revenge.
Pam.
Brother, at your intreaty I adventured
To court Evadne; and because I found her
Against my minde, too easie to my suit,
Your rage falls heavie on me.
Tech.
On my knees
I beg, deare father, cloyster me in darknesse,
Or send me to the desert to converse
With nothing but a wildernesse, or expose me
To the cold mercy of the winde and wave,
So you will free me from the company
Of a false sister.
Evad.
Sir, with much perswasion
She wrought on me to personate a love
To Pamphilus, to finde if I could stagger
The faith he vow'd to her. This have I done,
And this so much hath moved her.
Chrem.
Here you see
The fruits of rashnesse. Do you finde your errour?
But the foul spring from whence these bitter streams
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Dyp.
I will no more denie it, I have sown
Those seeds of doubt, wishing to see dissension
Ripe for the sickle—For what cause I now
Forbeare to speak—but henceforth I will strive
To cleare those jealousies, and conclude their loves
In a blest nuptiall.
Tyn.
O how frail is man!
One Sunny day the exhalation reares
Into a cloud: at night it falls in teares.
Exeunt.
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