 | The Bastard |  |
Scene 1.
Enter Varina sola.Thus have I fram'd, though long first, my rescript,
As well as th'poor Minerva of my brain
Enabled me; 'tis tart enough, I'm sure,
To vulnerate and pierce a heart of steel:
If his affection's byassed with vertue,
He'l re-addresse to me to work the cure,
What Pelias wounded, it alone could heal;
The limb that's burnt we hold unto the fire,
Loves wounds must have their Balsam from that hand
20
This houre Thomaso promis'd to be here,
To bear my answer back. He comes: Your actions
Enter Thomas
Are comments to your words, and what your tongue
Of late exprest, your diligence performs.
Tho.
Right worthy Lady, should I vilifie
My faith by misperformance, I should think
My selfe degenerate from what I was.
Var.
Your words engage my faith, friend, there's my answer.
Tho.
Thanks worthy Lady, this shall surely have
Acceptance far more gracious from your servant,
Then such a Jewell which th'Ægyptian Queen
(To add a complement to sumptuousness)
Dissolved drank unto her Anthony.
Var.
Then beare it to him instant, it may be
His expectation may be harrass'd out:
For what desire commands us to expect,
Time, if protracted, maketh us disgust;
Haste therefore, and farewell.
Exit.
Tho.
Adieu! sweet Lady!
Now if this Letter bear a gentle sense,
And gives a Fiat to Rod'riguez suit,
His heart will mount so high with joy, that it
Enter Roderiguez.
Outstrips imagination. Noble Sir—
Rod.
What newes Thomaso? come and glut my ears
With comfortable tidings.
Tho.
Whether such
As you expect, Sir, or the contrary,
Resides not in the confines of my knowledge.
Rod.
Spake you not with her at the time prefixt?
Tho.
Yes! and her mind salutes you in this paper.
Rod.
Came this from her?
Tho.
I had it from her hands.
Rod.
Hadst thou encompast all this Universe,
Especially the East and Western India,
And ransackt either of them for their pearls:
Or hadst thou ript the bowels of the earth,
And laid her hidden treasure at my feet,
It could not have procur'd the hundredth part
Of that content, as doth this piece of paper.
Tho.
Still may't be multiplyed, and augment
Your wisht beatitude a thousand fold.
(He reads it.)
Rod.
What have we here? A flat deniall? Ha?
Hard-hearted Lady! hadst thou spectacles
Which might so help thy optick faculties,
As to behold my bleeding heart, thou couldst not
21
Tho.
Patience, noble Sir—
Rod.
'Tis cruelty! alas! sh'ad courteous been
Had she procur'd my death, or my proscription:
But thus to charact'rize my torments, and
To dally with my flames, doth argue she
Studies the Art of inhumanity.
Tho.
Let not such thoughts finde harbour in your breast,
Exile them thence.
Rod.
They've took possession:
And cannot easily be extruded thence.
Tho.
Why then encounter her your self, and speak:
Let not a Letter daunt you, storm again:
Your parts do speak you man, and you may win her:
It may be she observes formality,
In these her actions: and for fashion sake
Her tongue saies no (as maidens use to do)
When as her minde thinks yea: good Sir, about it.
Tho.
Thy Councel's prevalent, and I'll observe,
Next time I'll try her: and my reasons shall
Triumph victorious, or in th'Duell fall.
Exeunt.
| The Bastard | |