 | The Jealous Lovers |  |
ACTUS III.
SCEN. I.
Dypsas, Tyndarus.Tyn.
If it be not immodesty to demaund
So bold a question; I would be resolv'd
Of one doubt yet.
Dyps.
Speak boldly, by all holinesse
My answer shall be true.
Tyn.
When you were young,
And lively appetite revelled in your bloud,
Did you not finde rebellion in your veins?
Did not the same embraces tedious grow?
And cause a longing in your thoughts to taste
Varieties of men?
Dyps.
I blush, I cannot answer
With a deniall; not a proper Gentleman
But forc'd my goatish eye to follow him:
And when I had survey'd his parts, I would
With any losse of honour, wealth, and friendship,
Have bought him to my bed: and truely, Sir,
'Twas cheap at any rate.
Tyn.
Steel'd impudence!
What fruit can I expect the bough should beare
That grows from such a stock?
Dyps.
I had of late
A moneths minde Sir to you: Y'ave the right make
To please a Lady.
Tyn.
Sure this old piece of lust
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And tempt the worms to adulterate her carcasse.
Dyps.
And that's the reason I have cross'd my daughter
To further mine own love. Pity me, Sir,
For though the fewel's spent, there is a spark
Rak'd up ith' embers.—But I now desist.
Please you to go to Ballios house, my daughter
Shall meet you there—I hope that out of duty
She will not grutch her mother a good turn
When she is married—now and then.
Tyn.
Is there no house
To meet at, but this Ballios? Is Evadne
Acquainted there? is that the rendevous
Of her hot meetings?—yet I still suspect
This womans malice to her childe not lost.
I will bestow some time, and go to see
The strange event of this dark mysterie.
Exit Tyndarus.
SCEN. II.
Dypsas, Ballio.Dyps.
Ballio.
Ball.
Madam.
Dyps.
See your house be stor'd
With the deboisest Rorers in the city
Let every room be fill'd with noise and quarrelling,
For Tyndarus is to meet Evadne there.
You guesse the rest; if not, this purse of gold
Better inform you.
Exit Dypsas.
Ball.
Most celestiall Lady,
Though I have practised villany from my cradle
And from my dugge suckt mischief more then milk,
This fury still out-does me.—I am vext,
Vext to the heart to see a silly woman
Carry more devils in her then my self.
And yet I love thee—thou she-rogue, I love thee.
Had I but such a wife, what a fine brood
Of toads could I beget!
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SCEN. III.
Ballio, Simo.Ball.
Here comes my mole,
The sonne of earth, that digs his mothers entrals
To turn up treasure for his boy and me.
That with industrious eyes searches to hell
To buy us heaven on earth. Welcome, welcome
Thou age of gold: how do the bags at home?
Are all the chests in health? thrives the purse still?
And sayes it to the talents, Multiply?
Sim.
Thanks to my providence like a swarm! Wealth falls
Not in small drops upon me, (as at first)
But like a torrent overthrows the bank
As it would threat a deluge. Were it not pity
My boy should not invent sluces enow
To drain the copious stream.
Ball.
A thousand pities!
That you should lose the fruits of so much care.
Sim.
True Ballio, true.
Ball.
Trust me, what art can do
Shall not be wanting.
Sim.
I'le not be ungratefull.
It lies in you to turn these silver hairs
To a fresh black again, and by one favour
Cut fortie yeares away from the gray summe.
Ball.
I had rather cut off all, and be our own carvers:—Aside
Sir, if I had Medea's charms to boyl
An aged lambe in some inchaunted caldron
Till he start up a lambe, I would recall
Your youth, and make you like the aged snake
Cast off this wrinckled skin, and skip up fresh
As at fifteen.
Sim.
All this you may and more.
If you will place me where I may unseen
Make my eye witnesse of my sonnes delight,
I shall enjoy the pleasures by beholding 'um.
Ball.
True Sir, you know he's but your second self,
The same you might have been at one and twenty:
The blisse is both's alike.
Sim.
Most Philosophicall!
38
Place your self there.
Sim.
I ha' no words but these
To thank you with.
Ball,
This is true Rhetorick.
SCEN. IIII.
Asotus, Ballio, Bomolochus, Chærilus, Thrasymachus, Hyperbolus. Simo in angulis.Asot.
Come forth my Rascalls: Let the thriving Lord
Confine his family unto half a man
I cleept a—Page. Our honour be attended
With men of arts and arms. Captains and Poets
Shall with the Bilbow blade and Gray goose quill
Grace our Retinue—And when we grow surly,
Valour and wit fall prostrate at our frown;
Crouch imps of Mars, and frogs of Helicon.
Sim.
How they adore him! and the perilous wagge
Becomes his state: To see what wealth can do,
To those that have the blessing how to spend it!
Ball.
Your blessing was the wealth: the art of spending
He had from me.
Sim.
Once more I give thee thanks.
Thras.
Who dares offend thee, Lord of fortitude,
And not pay homage to thy potent toe,
Shall be a morsell for the dogs.
Asot.
Stoutly deliver'd,
My brave Thrasymachus—Thou for this shalt feed.
I will not suffer valour to grow lean,
And march like famine. I have seen an army
Of such a meagre troop, such thin-chapt starvelings,
Their barking stomacks hardly could refrain
From swallowing up the foe, ere they had slain him.
Hyper.
If thou command our service, we will die
Dull earth with crimson, till the teares of orphanes,
Widows and mothers wash it white again:
Wee'le strow thy walks with legs, and arms, and thighes,
And pay thee tribute thousand heads a day,
Fresh bleeding from the trunck: and panting hearts
Not dead shall leap in thy victorious paw.
Asot.
Then say thou too to Hunger—Friend adieu!
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See'um both arm'd in scarlet cap-a-pea,
Strike top-sail, men of warre.
Ball.
We must divide:
We that serve great men have no other shifts
To thrive our selves but guelding our Lords guifts.
Sim.
Now I am rich indeed, this is true treasure.
Asot.
Ha! has Melpomene ta'ne cold of late,
That you are silent, my Parnassian beagles?
Is Clio dumbe? or has Apollos Jewes-trump
By sad disaster lost her melodious tongue?
Chær.
Your praise all tongues desire to speak: but some,
Nay all I fear, for want of art grow dumbe:
The harp of Orpheus blushes for to sing,
And sweet Amphions voice hath crack't a string.
Asot.
A witty solecisme reward the errour! harp and sing, voice and string.
Bom.
Give me a breath of thunder, let me speak
Sonorous accents, till their clamours break
Rocks with the noise obstreperous. I will warble
Such bounsing notes shall cleave obdurate marble
Upon mount Caucasus heavens knocking head,
Boreas shall blow my trumpet, till I spread
Thy fame, grand Patron of the thrice three sisters,
Till envies eares shall heare it and have blisters.
Asot.
O rare close, a high sublime conceit!
For this I'le sheath thee in a new serge scabbard
Blade of the fount Pegasean.
Sim.
What an honour
Will our bloud come to!—I have satisfied
For all the Orphanes, Widows, and what others
My sacred hunger hath devour'd.
Asot.
Ballio
Blesse him with twentie drachmes—yet forbeare:
Money may spoyl his Poetry. Give's some wine,
Here is a whetstone both for wit and valour.
A health to all my beads-men of the sword.
Thr. Hyp.
This will ingage the men of arms to fight.
Asot.
This to the Muses, and their threed-bare tribe.
Char. Bom.
Thou dost ingage the learned troops to write.
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Go sonnes of Mars, with young Apollos brood,
And usher in my Venus: wine hath warm'd
My bloud, and wak'd it to an itch of sporting.
(Exeunt Bom. Hyp. Chær. Thr. for to fetch in Phr. Asot, the while is putting on his armour.
Ball.
Some twentie ages hence 'twill be a question
Which of the two the world will reverence more:
You for a thriving father, or Asotus
So liberall a sonne.
Sim.
Good, Ballio, good:
But which will they preferre?
Ball.
They cannot, Sir,
But most admire your fist, which grip'd so much
That made his hand so open.
Sim.
Gracious starres,
How blest shall I be twentie ages hence!
Some twentie ages hence.
Ball.
You shall be call'd
A doting Coxcombe twentie ages hence.
SCEN. III.
Chærilus, Bomolochus before personating 2 Mercuries, Phrine in an antique robe and coronet guarded in by Hyperbolus and Thrasimachus.Asot.
How bright and glorious are the beams my starre
Darts from her eye! Lead up, my Queen of beauty!
But in a softer march, sound a retreat:
Lead on again, I'le meet her in that state
The god of warre puts on, when he salutes
The Cyprian Queen—these that were once the postures
Of horrid battells, are become the muster
Of love and beauty. Say sweet brace of Mercuries,
Is she th'—Olympique or the Paphian goddesse?
Ball.
Where are you Sir, where are you?
Sim.
In Elysium, in Elysium.
Chær.
This is no goddesse of th'—Olympique hall
Bom.
Nor may you her of Neptunes issue call.
Chær.
For she nor Siren is nor Amphitrite.
Bom.
Nor wood-nymph that in forrest takes delight.
Chær.
Nor is she Muse.
Bom.
Nor Grace.
Chær.
Nor is she one of these
That haunt the springs the beauteous Naiades.
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Nor Flora, Lady of the field is she.
Chær.
Nor bright Pomona the Orchard's deitie.
Bom.
No, she is none of these.
Chær.
Oh then prepare
To heare her blessed name.
Both.
'Tis Phryne fair.
Asot.
Phryne the fair? Oh peace! if this be she,
Go forth, and sing the world a lullabie.
For thy deare sake in whom is all delight,
I will no more the trembling nations fright
With bellowing drummes, and grones of slaughter'd men.
My father brings the golden age again.
Phryn.
Pardon me, dreadful deitie of warre,
'Twas love of you that forc'd me from my sphere,
And made me leave my Orbe without her influence,
To meet you in the fury of the fight
Sweating with rage, and reeking in the bloud
Of wretches sacrific'd to the Stygian floud.
Asot.
Come forth thou horrid instrument of death.
Ball.
Do you heare him, Sir?
Sim.
I, to my comfort Ballio.
Asot.
I will dispeople earth, and drown the world
In crimson flouds, and purple deluges.
The old, the young, the weak, the lusty wight,
Souldiers and scholars, fair and foul together,
Men, women, children, infants, all shall die.
I will have none survive that shall have left
Above one eye, three quarters of a face,
And half a nose. I will carve legs and arms
As at a feast. Henceforth to all posteritie
Mankinde shall walk on crutches.
Phryn.
Cruell Mars!
Let the conjunction of my milder starre
Temper the too malignant force of thine.
The drumme, the fife, and trumpet shall be turn'd
To lutes, and citherns. We will drink in helmets,
And cause the souldier turn his blade to knives
To conquer capons, and the stubble goose:
No weapons in the age to come be known,
But sword of Bacon, and the shield of Brawn.
Daigne me a kisse, great Warriour.
Asot.
Hogsheads of Nectar
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That kisse hath ransom'd thousands from the grave.
Phryn.
Let me redeem more thousands with a second.
Asot.
Rage melts away. I pardon half the world.
Phryn.
O let me kisse away all rigour from thee.
Asot.
Live mortalls, live. Death has no more to do.
And yet me thinks a little rigour's left.
Phryn.
Thus shall it vanish.
Asot.
Vanish rigour, vanish.
Harnesse the lions, make my chariot ready:
Venus and I will ride.
Phryn.
How? drawn by lions?
Asot.
I, thou shalt kisse 'um till their rigour vanish
(As mine has) into aire. I will have these play
With Ounces, Tigers, and the Panthers whelp,
As with a Squirrel. Beares shall wait on thee,
And spotted Leopards shall thy Monkies be.
Sit down my Queen, and let us quaff a bowl:
Seest thou, my Phryne, what a fair retinue
I have provided thee? These for thy defence
'Gainst any Lady rivals thee in beauty.
And these on all occasions shall vent forth
Swelling Encomiums.—Say Bomolochus,
How sings my Mistresse?
Bom.
The Grashopper chaunts not his Autumne quite
So sweet, nor Cricket by the chimney fire.
Asot.
They'le make thee any thing. Thou art already
Cricket and Grashopper.—Chærilus, how does she dance?
Chær.
Have you beheld the little sable beast
Clad in an Ebon mantle, hight a flea,
Whose supple joynts so nimbly skip and caper
From hemme to sleeve, from sleeve to hemme again,
Dancing a measure o're a Ladies smock,
With motion quick, and courtly equipage?
So trips fair Phryne o're the flowry stage.
Asot.
Now thou art a flea.—How snorts she as she sleeps!
Bom.
Zephyrus breaths not with a sweeter gale
Through a grove of sycomore. The soft spring
Chides not the pebles that disturb his course
43
(That built our Theban walls) be henceforth mute.
Orpheus shall break his harp, and silent be,
The reed of Pan, and pipe of Mercury:
Yea, though the spheres be dumbe, I care not for't:
No musick such as her melodious snort.
Asot.
Melodious snort! With what decorum spits she!
Chær.
Like the sweet gummes that from Electar trees
Distill, or honey of the labouring bees:
Like morning dew that in a pleasant showre
Drops pearls into the bosome of a flowre;
Cupid with acorn cups close by her sits,
To snatch away the Nectar that she spits.
Asot.
Ballio, present me with the crowns of laurell.
Thus I drop wine the best of Helicon
On your learn'd heads, and crown you thus with bayes.
Rise Poets laureat both! Favour Apollo!
Both.
The Muses and Asotus be propitious!
Asot.
I will not have you henceforth sneak to Taverns.
And peep like fidlers into Gentlemens rooms,
To shark for wine and radishes: nor Ile sentinell
At Ordinaries, nor take up at playes
Some novice for a supper: you shall deal
No more in ballads to bewail an execution
In lamentable rythmes: nor beg in Elegies:
Nor counterfeit a sicknesse to draw in
A contribution: nor work journey-work
Under some play-house post, that deals in
Wit by retail: nor shall you task your brains
To grace a Burgesse new post with a Rebus:
Or furnish a young suitour with an Anagram
Upon his mistresse name: nor studie posies
For rings and bracelets.—Injure not the bough
Of Daphne: know that you are laureat now.
Ball.
How like you this discourse?
Sim.
Excellent well.
It is a handsome lasse. If I were young
(As I am not decrepit) I would give
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Phryn.
Come beauteous Mars,
I'le kembe thy hair smooth as the ravens feather,
And weave those stubborn locks to amorous bracelets;
Then call a livelier red into thy face,
And soften with a kisse thy rugged lips.
I must not have this beard so rudely grow,
But with my needle I will set each hair
In decent order, as you rank your squadrons.
Asot.
Here's a full bowl to beauteous Phrynes health.
What durst thou do, Thrasymachus, to the man
That should deny it?
Thras.
Dissect him into atomes.
Hyper.
I durst do more for beauteous Phrynes sake.
Thras.
What, more then I? Hyperbolus, thou art mortall.
Hyper.
Yeeld, or I see a breakfast for the crows.
Thras.
Death to my lungs, I spit upon thy fame.
Hyper.
Then with my steel I whip thy rash contempt.
Asot.
Brawling you mastives.—Keep the peace at home
And joyn your forces 'gainst the common foe.
Phryn.
You sha'nt be angry: by this kisse you sha' not.
Asot.
I will, unlesse you swear again.
Phryn.
You sha'not.
Sim.
Ah, Ballio! Age has made me dry as tinder,
And I have taken fire. I burn, I burn.
The spark rak'd up in ashes is broke forth,
And will consume me, Ballio.
Ball.
What's the matter?
Sim.
Love, cruel love. I must enjoy that lady
What ever price it cost me.
Ball.
Your sonnes mistresse?
Sim.
Sonne, or not sonne.—Let this intreat, and this.
Ball.
This will perswade. I must remove your sonne,
His fury else will surely stand 'twixt us
And our designes.—Old letcher, I will fit you,
And geld your bags for this. You shall be milk'd,
Emptied, and pumpt. Spunge, we will squeeze you spunge,
And send you to suck more.—Invincible Mars.
Asot.
What sayes the governour of our younger yeares?
Ball.
You have worn this plot of Mars too stale already.
O shift your self into all shapes of love.
Women are taken with varietie.
45
I know 'twill strike her fancie.
Asot.
Businesse calls.
Drink on, for our return shall sudden be.
SCEN. VI.
Ballio, Simo, Thrasymachus, Hyperbolus, Chærilus, Bomolochus, Phryne.Ball.
Phryne, here is a boy of wealth, my girle,
The golden bull that got this golden calf
Deeply in love with thee.
Phryn.
Let me alone,
I'le fleece him.—
Ball.
Melt him, Phryne, melt him:
We must not leave this mine till we have found
The largenesse of the vein.—Suck like an horse-leach.
Come, Sir, and boldly enter: I have choak't out
An easie path to tread in; 'twill direct you
To your wished journeys end, and lodge you safe
In her soft arms.
Sim.
Thou art my better Angel.
Wilt thou eat gold, drink gold, lie in gold,
I have it for thee. Old men are twice children,
And so was I, but I am grown again
Up to right man.—Thou shalt be my Tutour too.
Is there no stools, or tables?
Ball.
What to doe?
Sim.
I would vault over them, to shew the strength
And courage of my back.
Ball.
Strike boldly in, Sir.
Sim.
Save you, Gentlemen. If you want gold, here's for you.
Give me some wine: Mistresse, a health to you:
Pledge me, and spice the cup with these and these.
Thou shalt have better gowns.
Thras.
A brave old boy.
Hyper.
There's mettall in him.
Chær.
I will sing thy praise
In lines heroick.
Bom.
I will tune my lyre,
And chaunt an ode that shall eternize thee.
Phryn.
Of what a sweet aspect! how lovely look'd
Is this fine Gentleman!—I hope you know
It is in Thebes the custome to salute
Fair ladies with a kisse.—
Sim.
She is enamour'd.
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Fair Lady, health and wealth attend thee.
Phryn.
Good Sir, another kisse: you have a breath
Compos'd of odours.
Sim.
Buy thee toyes with this:
I'le send thee more.
Phryn.
How ravishing is his face?
Sim.
That I should have so ravishing a face,
And never know it!—Miser that I was!
I will go home and buy a looking glasse,
To be acquainted with my parts hereafter.
Phryn.
Come, lie thee down by me; here we will sit.
How comely are these silver hairs? This hand
Is e'ne as right to my own minde, as if
I had the making of it. Let me throw
My arms about thee.
Ball.
How the burre cleaves to him!
Sim.
This remnant of my age will make amends
For all the time that I have spent in care.
Phryn.
Give me thy hand. How smooth a palm he has!
How with a touch it melts!
Ball.
The rogue abuses him
With his greasie fists.
Phryn.
Let us score kisses up
On one anothers lips. Thou shalt not speak,
But I will suck thy words e're they have felt
The open aire.—
Sim.
That I should live so long,
And ignorant of such a wealth as this!
SCEN. VII.
Simo, Thrasymachus, Hyperbolus, Chærilus, Bomolochus, Phryne, Asotus.Asot.
Now am I Oberon prince of Fairy land,
And Phryne shall be Mab my Empresse fair:
My souldiers two I'le instantly transform
To Will-with-a-wisp, and Robin-goodfellow,
And make my brace of Poets transmigrate
Into Pigwiggin and Sir Peppercorn.
It were a pretty whimsy now to counterfeit
That I were jealous of my Phrynes love.
The humour would be excellent, and become me
47
Thus will I walk as one in deadly dumps.
Sim.
When shall we marry?
Phryn.
I can hardly stay
Till morning.
Asot.
O what Fury shot
A viper through my soul! Here Love with twenty bows
And twenty thousand arrows layes his siege
To my poore heart.—O Phryne, Phryne!
I have no cause why to suspect thy love.
But if all this be cunning, as who knows!
Away foul sinne. O eyes, what mischief do you see!
Ball.
O, I could burst with laughter. Here will be
A prety scene of mirth.
Sim.
Thou dost not love me.
My boy Asotus, my young sprightly boy
Has stoln thy heart away.
Phryn.
He? a poore mushrum!
Your boy? I should have guess'd him for your father.
He has a skin as wrinckled as a Tortoyse.
I have mista'ne him often for a hedge-hog
Crept out on's skin. Pray keep the fool at home.
Asot.
Patience go live with cuckolds. I defie thee.
Villain, rogue, traitour, do not touch my deare
So to unsanctifie her tender skin,
Nor cast a goatish eye upon a hair,
To make that little threed of gold profaned,
Or gaze but on her shoe-string that springs up
A reall rose, from vertue of her foot,
To blast the odours: grim-fac'd death shall hurry thee
To Styx, Cocytus, and fell Phlegeton.
Sim.
Asotus, good Asotus, I am thy father.
Asot.
I no Asotus am, nor thou my fire,
But angry and incensed Oberon.
Sim.
All that I have is thine, though I could vie
For every silver hair upon my head
A piece in gold.—
Asot.
I should send you to the barbours.
Sim.
All, all is thine: let me but share
A little in thy pleasures: onely relish
The sweetnesse of 'um.
Asot.
No, I will not have
Two spenders in a house. Go you and revell,
48
As you ha' done, to scrape up pelf together:
And then forsweare all Tutours, Souldiers, Poets,
Women, and wine. I will forget to eat,
And starve my self to the bignesse of a polecat.
I will disclaim his faith that can beleeve
There is a Taverne, or a Religious place
For holy Nunnes that vow incontinence,
And have their beads to sin by.—Get you home.
You kisse a Gentlewoman to endanger
Your chattering teeth?—Go, you have done your share
In getting me: to furnish the next age
Must be my province. Go, look you to yours.
Lie with your mustie bags, and get more gold.
S'lid, anger me, and I'le turn drudge for certain.
Sim.
Asotus, good Asotus pardon me.
Asot.
I wonder you are not asham'd to ask pardon.
Sim.
It was the dotage of my age, Asotus.
Asot.
Who bid you live untill this age of dotage?
Sim.
I will abjure all pleasures but in thee.
Asot.
This something qualifies.
Sim.
It shall be my sport
To maintain thine. Thou shalt eat for both,
And drink for both.—
Asot.
Good: this will qualifie more.
Sim.
And here I promise thee to make a joynture
Of half the land I have to this fair Lady.
Asot.
This qualifies all. You have your pardon, Sir!
But heare you, Sir, it must be paid for too.
To morrow Mab I thee mine Empresse crown.
Ball.
All friends. A merry cup go round. What? Captains
And Poets here, and leave the sack for flies?
SCEN. VIII.
Ballio, Asotus, Phryne, Simo, Thrasimachus, Hyperb. Chærilus, Bomolochus, Tyndarus.Hyp.
Thrasimachus, a whole one.
Thras.
Done: I'le pledge thee
49
Enough to drown an island, Chærilus.
Chær.
And 'twere the famous fount of Hyppocrene,
I'de quaffe it off all, though the great Apollo
And all the Muses died for thirst, Bomolochus.
Bom.
Come boy, as deep as is Pamassus high.
Tyn.
What nurserie of sinne is this? what temple
Of lust and riot? Was this place alone
Thought a fit witnesse for the knitting up
Chaste and religious love? Deeds dark as hell,
Incest and murder might be acted here.
The holy god of Marriage never lighted
His sacred torch at so profane a den.
It is a cage for schreetch-owls, bats, and ravens,
For crows and kites, and such like birds of prey.
But the chaste turtle, the indulgent pelican,
And pious stork, flie hence as from infection.
Evadne meet me here? Is she a parcell
Of the damn'd family? Are there such white devils
Among their Succuba's? No, thou art wrong'd, Evadne:
And there be some that scatter snakes amongst us,
Have stung too deep already.
SCEN. IX.
Ballio, Asotus, Chærilus, Simo, Hyperbolus, Thrasimachus, Tyndarus, Evadne.Tyn.
Blesse me eyes!
My troubled fancie fools me. I am lost
In a distracted dream. It is not she.
Awake thee Tyndarus: what strange sleeps are these!
Me thinks I am in hell, and yet behold
A glorious Angel there. Or have these devils
Broke into Paradise! for the place is such,
She blesses with her presence.—Meere contradictions,
Chimæras, of a restlesse brain.
Evad.
Diana,
And whatsoever Goddesse else protects
50
To what a wildernesse have my wandring steps
Betray'd me! sure this cannot be a place
To meet my Tyndarus in.
Tyn.
'Tis Evadne,
'Tis the fair-foul Evadne. Now my sword,
That hadst a good edge to defend this woman,
Go send her soul into another mansion
Black as it self. It is too foul a tenant
For this fair palace. Stay yet, too forward steel,
Take her incircled in her stallions arms,
And kill two sinnes together.—Let 'um be
At hell to beare the punishment of lust
E're it be fully acted.
Evad.
What strange fancies
My maiden fears present me! Why, I know not:
But this suspicion seldome bodeth good.
Thras.
A handsome Bona Roba, and my prize.
Hyper.
I do deny't, she's my monopoly.
Chær.
Perchance she may one of the Muses be,
And then claim I a share for Poetrie.
Evad.
If ever silly lambe thus stray'd before
Into a flock of wolves; or harmlesse dove
Not onely made the prey, but the contention
Of ravenous eagles; such poore soul am I.
Thras.
Give me a busse, my girle.
Evad.
If there be here
A Gentleman in whom there lives a spark
Of vertue not yet out; I do beseech him,
By all the ashes of his ancestours,
And by the constant love he beares his mistresse,
To rescue innocence and virginity
From these base monsters. I for him will pay
A thousand prayers a morning, all as pure
And free from earthly thought, as e're found passage
Through the strict gate of heav'n.
Tyn.
That's a task for me.
Away fowl ravishers, I will teach my sword
Justice to punish you. Such a troup of Harpyes
To force a Ladies honour! I will quench
With your own bloud the rage of that hot lust
51
Asot.
Flie, Phryne, flie, for dangers do surround.
Sim.
This is a pleasure that I care not for.
Exeunt.
SCEN. X.
Tyndarus, Evadne.Tyn.
Lady be safe.
Evad.
Sir, may this favour done
An injur'd maid call blessings on your head
In plenteous showres!
Tyn.
This courtesie deserves
Some fair requitall.
Evad.
May plum'd victory
Wait on your sword: and if you have a mistresse,
May she be fair as lilies, and as chaste
As the sweet morning dew that loads the heads
Of drooping flowres: may you have fair children
To propagate your vertues to posterity
And blesse succeeding times.—
Tyn.
Heaven be not deaf!
Evad.
May you and plenty never live asunder.
Peace make your bed,—and—
Tyn.
Prayer is cheap reward.
And nothing now bought at a rate so easie
As that same highway ware.—Heaven blesse your worship.
In plain words Lady (I can use no language
But what is blunt) I must do what they would ha' done.
Evad.
Call back your words, and lose not that reward
Heaven is ingag'd to pay you.
Tyn.
Come: no circumstance.
Your answer? quick.
Evad.
I beg it on my knees,
Have a respect to your own soul, that sinks
In this dishonour, Sir, as deep as mine.
Tyn.
You are discourteous, Lady!
Evad.
Let these teares
Plead for me: did you rescue me from theeves,
To rob me of the jewell you preserv'd?
Tyn.
Why do I trifle time away in begging
That may command.—Proud Damsel, I will force thee.
Evad.
I thank thee blest occasion:—Now I dare
She snatches a stilletto out of his pocket.
Defy thee devil: here is that shall keep
My chastity secure, and arm a maid,
52
Tyn.
Be not too masculine, Lady.
Evad.
Stand off, or I will search my heart with this,
And force my bloud a passage, that in anger
Shall flie into thy face, and tell thee boldly
Thou art a villain.
Tyn.
Incomparable Lady!
By all those powers that the blest-men adore,
And the worst fear, I have no black designe
Upon your honour; onely as a souldier
I did desire to prove whether my sword
Had a deserving cause: I would be loth
To quarrell for light ware. Now I have found you
Full weight, I'le weare his life upon my point
That injures so much goodnesse.
Evad.
You speak honour.
Tyn.
Blest be this minute, sanctifie it, Time,
'Bove all thy calendar. Now I finde her gold.
This touchstone gives her perfect. The discovery
Of ne're found kingdomes, where the plow turns up
Rich oare in every furrow, is to this
A poore successe. Now all my doubts are clear'd,
And I dare boldly say, Be happy Tyndarus!
SCEN. II.
Tyndarus, Evadne, Pamphilus.Pam.
Great Queen of love, sure when the labouring sea
Did bring forth thee, before she was deliver'd;
Her violent throws had rais'd a thousand storms.
Yet now, I hope after so many wrecks
That I have suffer'd in thy troubled waves,
Thou now wilt land me safe.
Tyn.
Pamphilus here?
He comes to meet Evadne. This is their house
Of toleration. She had spied me out
Through my disguise: and with what studied art,
What cunning language, how well acted gesture,
How much of that unbounded store of teares
She wrought on my credulity! The Fox,
Hyæna, Crocodile, and all beasts of craft,
53
Exit.
Evad.
And has he left me in this dragons den!
A spoil to rapine! what defence, poore maid,
Hast thou against these wilde and salvage beasts?
My starres were cruell: If you be courteous eyes,
Weep me a floud of teares, and drown me in't,
And be Physicians to my sorrows now,
That have too long been Heraulds of my grief.
My thread of life has hitherto drawn out
More woes then minutes.
Pam.
Health to the fair Evadne.
Evad.
Is any left so courteous to wish health
To the distress'd Evadne? Pamphilus?
Pam.
Is my Techmessa here?
Evad.
Now all the Gods
Preserve her hence, there is in hell more safety
Among the Furies—Mischief built this house
For all her family. Gentle Pamphilus,
See me delivered from this jayl, this dungeon,
This horrid vault of lust.
SCEN. XII.
Pamphilus, Tyndarus, Techmessa, Evadne.Pam.
Take comfort, Lady.
Your honour stands safe on his guard, while I
Can use a sword.
Evad.
You have confirmed me, Sir.
Tyn.
How close they winde, like glutinous snakes ingendring,
Tech.
Well sister, I shall study to requite
This courteous treachery.
Evad.
Pamphilus, in me
All starres conspire to make affliction perfect.
Pam.
Wait on heavens pleasure, Madam: such a one
The heavens ne're made for misery, they but give you
These crosses as sharp sauce to whet your appetite
For some choice banquet. Or they mean to lead you
Through a vault dark and obscure as hell,
To make your paradise a sweeter prospect.
—Thus I feed
Others with hopes, while mine own wounds do bleed.
Exeunt Evadne, Pamphilus.
54
SCEN. XIII.
Tyndarus, Techmessa.Tech.
Why should we toil thus in an endlesse search
Of what we now behold?—Let us grow wise.
I loath false Pamphilus—yet I could have lov'd him:
And if he were but faithfull, could do still.
Tyn.
Sure were Evadne false, yet Pamphilus
Would not be made the instrument to wrong me.
Or suppose Pamphilus were a treacherous brother;
Me thinks Evadne should be kinder to me.
Techmessa joyn with me in one search more,
Ballio.
SCEN. XIIII.
Tyndarus, Techmessa, Ballio, Asotus.Tyn.
O Ballio, 'tis in you and deare Asotus
To make two wretches happy.
Asot.
Then be happy.
Tyn.
'Ile make you two joynt heirs of my estate,
And you shall give it out: we two are dead
By our own hands. And beare us both this night
To church in coffins. Whence we'le make escape,
And bid farewell to Thebes.
Asot.
Would you not both
Be buried in one coffin? then the grave
Would have her tenants multiply:—heare you Tutour,
Shall not we be suspected for the murder,
And choke with a hempen squincy?
Tyn.
To secure you,
We'le write before what we intend to act:
Our hands shall witnesse with your innocence.
Ball.
Well: Come the worst, I'le venture;—and perchance
You shall not die in jest again o'th' suddain.
Tyn.
What strange Mæanders Cupid leads us through!
When most we forward go, we backward move.
There is no path so intricate as Love!
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