 | The Bastard |  |
Scena quarta.
Enter Chaves and Picarro drawing.Pic.
Come, come Sir, draw, or by this hand and sword
I'll be your Priest.
Cha.
Sure you mistake, I am not
The man you look for.
Pic.
You shall find, my eyes
Have their true object: Coward, prate not, draw,
Lets view thy weapon.
Cha.
Sir, your habit speaks you
A man, and noble, I admire your judgment
Should be so rash to quarrel with me, who
Ne're injur'd you, and to my knowledge, till
This time, ne're saw you.
Pic.
All your Rhetorick
Shall not excuse your carcasse, turn and fight,
Or perish.
Cha.
Tell me why, and then you'll find
I am no Coward.
10
Hear my reason, You
Have offred me an injury; I must not
Put up, while you do walk with that same nose;
Make hast and draw; Draw, or this slave shall beat
Courage into thee, Coward.
Cha.
Well, perforce
Since you will tempt a danger from my arm,
Receiv't.
(Picarro falls.
So now, I hope, you'l yeeld the cause
Made you so valiant.
Enter Mariana.
Mar.
Stay, for pitie save
Picarro's life, take mine, us you're a man,
Bridle your fury.
Cha.
Doe I dream? who speaks?
Mar.
A haplesse Virgin! let the prayers and tears
Of one that never sued before, redeem
His lifes dire forfeit: if you be so cruell,
That nought but blood will suit your anger, here
Sheath your bright weapon in my breast, my blood
Will sooner quench your irefull heat: kill me,
And let him live.
Cha.
Sure she has stoln from heav'n
An Angels utterance; had Ulysses heard
This Syren minurize, the mast had been
To weak to hold him; Orpheus might have learnt
New notes to fit's harp; had a salvage Scythe,
Or untam'd Gere, when manacled they drive
Whole flocks of men before them, on whole flesh
Death strait should riot, heard her speak, their fiercenesse
Would soon relent, they would forget the sweetnesse
Of their inhuman banquet, and let loose
Those they had markt fro slaughter.
Mar.
Pray you Sir.
Cha.
Historians truly may relate how stones
Follow'd Amphion to the Theban walls;
How lofty Ossa and Banchaia danc'd
At overhearing the Odrysian Lyre;
That Dolphins at Arions Harp grew tame,
And coucht their scaly backs to beare him out
Of Neptunes foamy surges; likely 'tis
And possible, since one Accent from her lips
Can work far greater miracles, I would raise
A man that long had bedrid lain; nay, were he
Witherd with feeble age, should she smile on him
He well might laugh at sage Medea's charms:
Tell Æson then, that her blest look had made him.
Fuller of youthfull vigours, then the force
Oh her inchanted hearbs infus'd into him.
Mar.
Then you wil save him?—
11
Look, how dark sorrow's beautified? how comely
She's in her tears? they sit upon her cheeks
Like Erythræan pearls enchas'd on grounds
Of true Vermilion: Foolish Lapidaries!
What need you borrow of the frozen Zone
Congealed Ice? catch these drops, they're more pretious
Then most transparent Crystall; I would fain
Grant thy request, but that I should too soon
Be exil'd from that blessing which your presence
Fully affoords me; yet 'tis too unholy
That she should kneel, I'll raise her.
Mar.
Here I'll lie.
(He offers to raise her.)
Prostrate for ever, lesse you please to save
Picarro's forfeit life.
Cha.
How happy, Heav'ns!
Is he in being vanquished, to have
So fair a faver? would my life had been
Put at his mercy: For your sake I'll grant
Him life on this condition, That he tell
What made him be my enemy.
Mar.
This morning
If I mistake not, passing by our coach
As we were coming from our Vineyard, you
Pull'd up the Curtains, drawn before, to see
Who were within, which he in heat of blood,
Took as a wrong, and followed you.
Cha.
I'm sorry
I was discourteous.
Mar.
Come Picarro, Signior,
I am your worths true servant.
Exeunt Mar. and Picarro.
Enter Roderigues and Boy.
Rod.
How now Chaves?
What drawn so neer the Citie? pray heav'ns! my stay
Has not endanger'd you: met you with theeves?
Cha.
With one hath stoln my best of Jewels; Sir,
I am undone; lost friend for ever.
Rod.
Why?
Cha.
Look I not strangely o're I did? My looks—
Rod.
Why? What should aile you? Are you frighted, Sir?
Cha.
Doe not my eyes speak my hearts falshood? Ha!
Rod.
Chaves, dear friend, how fare you? Is all well?
Cha.
I prithee be my Priest, and sacrifice
My treacherous carcasse to Eugenia, doe it,
And when I yeeld the Ghost, I'll tell thee friend,
That I fare well: ne're stare on me, my life
Is a worse torture then the rack, or wheele,
Ixions plague is but a play-game to't.
Nor his that rolls the revoluble stone,
Nor that of proud Prometheus, on whose heart,
12
Rod.
Alas! he raves!
What cursed Fiend tempts you to be thus desperate?
Cha.
Desperate? Kill me, let thy Rapier doe it,
Ne're muse upon it, I deserve to die:
Do justice on me.
Rod.
Tell me why, and then
Perchance I'll do it.
Cha.
Hear me then, Suppose
I had a beauteous sister, you Roderiguez
Should vow her service, proffer her your love,
Get my consent, her fathers, and her heart too,
And after fool both him and her, and me.
Should I not kill you, think you?
Rod.
Yes, I deserv'd it.
Cha.
Then here's my sword, I've done all this and more,
The vow's I made to your Eugenia's nothing,
A dream, an airy shadow, you are fool'd,
Your father's cousned by my hopes; 'tis true,
I love another.
Rod.
'Tis impossible;
Your fury makes you utter this.
Cha.
By the hopes
I have that thou wilt kill me, I have spoke
No more but truth, by all that's good I have not:
I love another.—
I stole her countenance, but she my heart.
Rod.
You're a treacherous man,
Base and unworthy, take your weapon back,
Defend your selfe.
Cha.
I will not, I confesse
I have deserv'd death, but it grieves me, that
By thy hands I must suffer; but my fate
Is irresistable: Dispatch me.
Rod.
Stay,
E're I doe kill thee, think how ominous
Thy crime is: young men will abhor thee, virgins
Hearing thy fault, will with their imprecations
Heap tortures on thee: Poore Eugenia! Sister!
I grieve for thee most: Are you ready?
Cha.
Yes!
Not to resist, but to be sacrific'd.
Rod.
I'll not become his Butcher: for the name
Of Friend, so often vow'd between us, holds
My arms, I cannot strike him; live to see
Heav'n work thy ruine: I'll not be thy priest
Farwell, false man, and look who e're thou wed,
Sheel' be a faithless strumpet to thy bed!
Cha.
Thou lyest, return, I'll fight:—
13
Less on thy knees with reverence: one, whose looks
Would e'en allure a Hermit, who had spent
His years in solitude, to leave his Cell,
And heav'nly contemplations, to admire
Her perfect essence, dar'st thou prophecy
Her for a strumpet? wert thou arm'd with thunder
This arm should reach thee, Clouds of lightning shal not
Secure thee: Know Sir, she is one, whom Angels
Would to enjoy, desert their bliss, and vote
No less then adoration due unto
Her heav'nly vertues—
Rod.
Hee's past hopes! more sisters
I have, more friends so worthy as himself
I ne're can hope for: Sir, I pitty you
And can my service help you ought in gaining
Your Love, command it.
Cha.
Mean'st thou thus?
Rod.
You use not
To finde me faithless: not my sisters wrong
Shall make me prove disloyall: may I know her
Is your new Mistriss?
Cha.
There's my misery,
I know her not my self, but 'tis the same
Was in the Coach we overtook.
Rod.
Is't she?
That's Mariana, Daughter to Alonzo
The Indian Merchant, I am well acquainted
With Garspar, noble Chaves: he, who is
Her Fathers Cash-keeper, him wee'll use as means
To win her for you: Our Varina lives
In the same house: come! let's about it.
Cha.
Heav'ns prosper our designes, and may our fate
Make us in them, them in us fortunate.
Exeunt.
| The Bastard | |