 | The Jealous Lovers |  |
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
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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
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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.
| The Jealous Lovers | |