 | The Prisoners |  |
Actus Quartus
Scena Prima.
Enter Cecilla, and Philon, Lissemella in a boyes habit.Cic.
Vrge not his condition, I must not so mistrust
The Iustice of those powers I bow to,
As to feare they would leave me to such a scorne,
A common slave; No Philon, if there were not chance
In his condition their tongues would have doubled
Vnder such a load as love; a slaves heart would
Have had too many hungry wants upon it
To have found leisure to have beg'd love.
Phil.
This under favour is no argument
And though I feare a want in their blood yet
I beleeve they have wit enough and their craft
Perhaps tooke hold of some pitty which you shew'd 'um;
For (as a friend) Madam your mercies were
Even to weakenesse; And but that I feare
This will move: And as my faith and dutie
Aside, he kneeles.
Thus low bowes, so my honour bids me
Defend you, especially when you have
So dangerous an enemy as your passion
To engage my faith against: Looke but upon
Your habit, and examine the nature
Of this act, and you shall finde you walke
Blinded, to your honours ruine, have you not throwne
Off your Sex; and the honour of a Queene
And now appeard cloath'd in blushes, and disguis'd
With faults, but this were nothing if my feares
Were false, which tells me this habite is lyn'd
With as faulty resolutions, nor can you
Condemne those that know you not, if the conclude
You have with your sex throwne off your modestie.
Cecil.
I'me lost for ever.
She lies downe.
Phil.
No Madam if you stay you are safer, for
This attempt, and have found your errour,
I confesse to this journey I carry nothing
But obedience, had you fled to meete
A plighted faith, through darkest hazards
I would have waited on you, but when you flye
To follow one you know not, a slave too
Perhaps flies from you: Nay, grant him a Prince,
Can your honours be safe when you pursue?
Oh Madam! when you were your selfe and from
Your reason collected truth, and upon that rocke
Would in arguments give law to love: I have heard
Your powerfull reasons conclude,
That a Queene is safer that is pursued
By a slave, if he keepe the path of love;
Then the greatest monarch of the earth could be,
Should she pursue a God; And upon
Reward the ambition of the wretch.
Cicil.
Oh Philon Thou art cruelly faithfull
And unsensible of my sufferings, thoud'st drinke
Ambition:
Why say he have but that Gyant fault
Yet 'tis a glorious sinne, and without it
Not one 'mongst all the Synods of the gods
Had fil'd his seate: And twas their feare that made
It sinne: In loves religion, tis meritorious
Still to aspire a Mistresse, and that love
That gives, but will not take no lawes, has cal'd it
Gentlenesse, not savage nature, for a servant
To leape even at the heart of his Mistresse:
But thus much I'le satisfie thy faith
By the honour of my mother ashes
He woo'd first, and in such words
As my resolution onely could deny;
And for his nature, how stout, how gentle,
How full of honour? judge thou, that wert witnesse
Of his acts.
Phil.
Madam, I see you are resolv'd, and then
I know you will not want an Argument;
Now I know not whether 'twere a blessing
Or no, their protection brought since you
Beleeve they love.
Cecil.
If thou turne away, I'le blush,
He lookes away.
And tell thee why I beleeve our loves;
His friendship could not divide him from me
Thou saw'st it made his vertues faultie passions
Searching with blushing wounds an enemy
In his friends breast. Oh my Cosen, when
I thinke on this; I call to minde
How for my freedome, he stood as if
Hee'd beene immortall, and intending onely to
Which when he will defend none save the Thunderer
Or a friend can hit. Oh Philon, Philon!
When I consider these miracles, why should I be
So wicked, as to conclude him lesse then a God
That acts 'um? And now take thou a secret
From me, for I will satisfie thee
Even with a faultie act, which may looke
Like vanity; turne thy face and heare me:
I know my Cozen is full of honour, And
I know with all that honour he loves me.
This confession I would have dyed e're
It should have beene forc't from me; but to conclude thee
For it makes thee a partie here, and thy love
As unfit to give counsell as mine uncapable
To take it: And now I conjure thee
Follow and Obey mee, that will Obey my Fate.
Nor shall the winds that begin in stormes,
Storme.
To pleade against me prevaile: I'me resolv'd
And this night I'le to Sea, and in her greatest depth
Dive to finde that rich pearle, which the wise value
Not the lesse, for having a rugged shell.
Phil.
Oh Madam, to be borne your kinsman was
One blessing, but to finde to have a friends place
In your thoughts two; And that you know I love,
And I not tell it, is a joy beyond
All but what your love brings, forgive me and
Henceforth I'le obey, not counsell. Your Galley
Shall instantly be ready: Thus I have gain'd
All my ends in love by having no unworthy one's
Vpon her.
Exit.
Cic.
O Love doe thou prosper my intent
And a Virgin shall thy Priest become
And these great truthes in all thy Temple, seene
Larger than Ioves; and when thou thy darts lets flye
Immortalitie is no guard, but oft they have
Through his lightning shot and stroke the thunderer
Thy religion's easie, thy law light
For thy tables hold but one act, one Commandment,
Obey, we cannot misse the way, let none
Then say, this youthfull God on cruell is
Or blind, sure from disobedience growes
All the strayes, crosses, dangers that we finde.
Scena Secunda.
Enter a Hermit and his Sonne with the body of an old man.Her.
Gently sonne lay him downe, bow him forward
Storme.
More of those waters, he stirrs, so, so,
Chafe him still while I dry his snow, which the Sea
Could not melt, 'tis he, strange accident!
But Ile not be discover'd yet.
Sonne.
He sighes there's some comfort in that:
Her.
Sad condition for thy age, when tis a joy
To heare thee sigh.
Sonne.
Good heaven: what does age abroad
At this time of his life?
Herm,
Sure he has wandred farre that has mist
A resting place in his evening, and to be pittied
When it's forc'd to seeke his Inne thus late
At night.
Sonne.
Sure he was of some religious order
By his habite?
Herm.
No matter for his habit, pull it off
And fetch him my gray coate,
Dry now is better then rich.
Sonne.
Which opinion if he had held, perhaps
His had beene dry now.
Good heaven what a night's here, the Evening
Promis'd dangers, but not like this: Sure this Barke
Was one of that fleet that we saw off the point
Last night, if we can recall life,
He may informe us who they were.
He stirres
Son.
He stirres and sighes still.
Iudg.
Wretched, wretched Theogines, what mercy
Is this that at length has found thee?
Was my selfe onely saved of this wracke?
Her.
All else perish'd.
Iudg.
Oh that I had mist this charity too
My friend aged Pensius my brother
Brave Memnon and my sonne the hopefull;
All these my former losses have rob'd me of
My griefe, which else these poore men
Would have required of me. Oh equall heaven
Thy abus'd Oracle and breach of vowes
Thou now but begin'st to punish.
Father by thy habit thou art vow'd
Vnto the Gods, if then like me thou'lt not
Be punish't for perjury, againe deliver me
To the doome they appointed; and
In the watery wombe of the Sea
Intombe me.
Her.
Oh Sir, despaire not; they appoint us better
Then we can choose, and in our greatest distrust
Surprise us with their mercies.
Iudg.
Heare but what I am and thou'lt be affraid:
To harbour me: for where e're I goe
Their vengeance pursue me
My name Theogines the Iudge.
Blest with all that men call happinesse,
Children wealth and power, to save or destroy
Where I liv'd: And though our state forbad
They have punish'd raign'd chiefe Priest.
As I rul'd Iudge equall in our birth's,
Equall in our blessings, in our power equall
And in our faults too alike guilty, But
Not alike punish'd, for he I feare
Is lost for ever: But the fault which now
They are busie in punishing is this, 'twas
By our predecessours enjoyned as
A gratefull offering to peace, under whose protection
We found such benefits, As all our neighbour countries
Wanted; That it should not be lawfull
For any to take up Armes but in their owne defence
Nor any upon paine of perpetuall banishment
Send their Sonnes abroad lest they might bring
Home, the dang'rous customes of other countries.
This Law was made and vowes with it
Of the strictest eyes: This vow we vow'd
And to this law with oathes were bound.
Herm.
What danger could that bring you?
Iudg,
O Father, this Law we broke and the curse
Of this vow pursues us, we know we had
Each of us a sonne and daughter, which blessings
Made us covetous to have our sonnes succeede
Vs in our honors, and therefore thought to breed
'Vm abroad, where they might learne to rule.
Thus by ambition blinded he abus'd
The Oracle, and told the people 'twas
The will of the gods our sonnes should be sent
Abroad, and I affirmed if they commanded
The law assented. Then to the charge of
A fatihfull friend we gave our children
(Who were so young they knew not themselves
What they were) with a command to breed 'um
Fit to be Princes: But neither to the world
Nor to themselves discover that they were so.
Vnask'd complaines, and to the incens'd people
Tells our falsehood: By them we were banish'd
Never to returne, which was some mercy,
But alas! Fate was juster then the people
For our sonnes are lost, my friend dyed and
My brother in our pilgrimage by a strange accident
Divided from me,
Now ought I to hope for mercy, or wish
To outlive their losses?
Herm.
Yee are not secur'd yet that these are losses
Nor ha's any assured you they are dead,
Therefore deferre this sadnesse, and let me
Lead thee into my Cabbin.
Iudg.
O let me leane upon thy aged shoulder
For I have load will sinke me.
Herm.
Doe:
Sad time the while when I can be a stay
To a Princes Sonne, make a fire upon the shore
He makes a fire upon the Stage.
That if any wretch unfortunate be cast
Vpon this lone place they may see it, and
Repaire hither, 'twill be some comfort
To finde we have charitie.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter three slaves.Storme
Slaves.
The Gods protect us and with all this judgement.
Enter Gallippus.
Gall.
Hence yee dogges leave your howlings, death!
Have we liv'd as if we hop'd for mercy, or
Expected protection from our prayers be gone
And endeavour: Every wise man rules
His starres, and may deferre that fate which Prayer
Cannot alter, see if I have not lost
Sheele founder through the slaves negligence.
Sla.
Why should we labour against heaven
That has decreed our losse, there's no hope
We'are all lost, the Sea alreadie's our grave.
Gall.
Villaine thou shalt not dye by water, Ile bee thy fate.
He stabs the Slave.
And yours if yee stay
Exeunt Slaves.
Enter Zenon and Lutanthe.
Zen.
See if the storme has not wrought in her element
Of water too, and blowne it in teares
From her eyes.
Gall.
Would it had blowne the fire thence too,
The earthly part would not wound me, my danger
And their beautie in those active elements lye
For in her living Iet fire beares sway.
Zen.
I will watch him.
Steps aside.
Gall.
Will you yet grant my suite and yeeld me love,
Or must I follow the example of the Gods,
And in a storme compasse my will? Say
Will you give, or shall I force?
Luc.
Is this a time for love, when the raging storme
Drownes thy words? Oh thou abused power!
Who thus enrag'd pursues us ev'n to the last
Of all our name, and for abus'd sacrifice
Will the Priest in judgement offer.
If thou hast decreed my fall tak't while I am fit
For sacrifice, while I'me pure and my virgin Snow
Vnsoyl'd, and protect me from this Ravisher
Whose impious heate burnes his hated breast
Ev'n in the bosome of the Sea.
Gall.
Cease to curse and yeeld me love, thou see'st
Of our danger, which my love will not give
Me leave to feare, thoughts of that take up
All the roome here, that care of my selfe
Cannot get in, Nor is this storme so dangrous,
You're unacquainted, else youl'd finde it but noyse
And not apprehend it.
Lucan.
Away, unhand me.
He offers to take hold of her.
Gall.
To me tis no new things to see the Elements
At warre, and strive againe to runne to Chaos
Thousands of times have I naked stood the rage,
When th'Element of fire has shot his angry flames
Into the yeelding maine, as if he had meant
To wound her god with his fork'd lightning,
This I have seene and felt the mischiefes
The unruly windes beget when they breake prison
And force from the torne entrance of the earth,
A dang'rous birth.
Luc.
O impious man! hast thou seene their power,
And felt their mercy, and dost slight it?
Gall.
Slight it, no, nor feare it: I have seene
A hideous storme grow from his nothing, and
Look'd on Sea, heard the false winds whisper to her
Till their flatteries have wrought into her bosome,
And there fil'd with ambition the covetous Element
That would aspire at heaven, discovering
E'en to the eyes of men the secrets of
Her wombe, This I have seene and these dangers
Wrought through, Nor wil I beleeve any thing
Can save me when I cannot save my selfe.
Will you yeeld?
Luc.
Oh strange daring! quench his sawcy flames, or adde.
Foole and villaine I never met before:
Though wise and wicked soldome joyne do'st tempt
Me now with all my feares about me?
If I were a common prostitute that were
Acquainted with sinne; I durst not when Thunder speakes.
Listen to thee, thy wickednesse
Shakes even my reason; rather fall upon thy knees
And no longer tempt the Gods to our destruction.
Gall.
Away I'me deafe.
Lucan.
Villaine wilt thou sinne, while
His plagues hang over thee? And adde to thy faults
While he is punishing? O yee winds take my teares
Vpon your wings, and through this storme convey
'Vm to that youth, whose honour tooke me even
I'th midst of my dangers, And
Tell his faith unfortunately hath betrayd
Me to this misery.
Gall.
Hah! is there another that you love?
Nay then the earth shall not save thee.
Enter Zenon.
Zen.
But it shall. Veere more sheate!
Hale tacke aboard; Who's at helme? Master!
Set a yare man to the helme, Thus, thus.
Hel.
Done 'tis.
Zen.
No more.
Gall.
Hell take thee for thy interruption.
Exit Lucanthe.
Zen.
Lower your maine saile, 'twas your fault
We lac'd onr bonnet too; full, full.
Hel.
Done 'tis.
Mast.
Strike our foresaile, heer's a gust will beare
Gall.
How now Master is she tight?
Mast.
No a pox upon her for a whore she leakes
But we have girt her; port port hard
Helme.
Done, done 'tis.
Zen.
Who keepes the lead there?
Within.
O dem a deepe fifteene fathome and a halfe O,
Gall.
Where's the wind?
Zen.
North-East.
Mast.
What ground ha'yee?
Within.
Corrall.
Mast.
Hell and confusion! Corrall? Luff, luff hard;
Veare tacke and hale your sheate abord, Boatswaine.
Brace your Foresaile, bring her ith wind,
Be yare mates, clap helpe a lee, bring her
Whistles.
Vpon her stayes: Hell and confusion!
We are upon the rockes of Asilara.
Zen.
Keepe the Lead going.
Exit Zenon and Master.
Gall.
What's my fate, is my fate, and it may conquer
Groning within.
But I'le never yeeld too't, nor sinke while
These Oares can beare me through.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Hiparchus and Pausanes.Hip.
Loose the slaves, we want men to trim our sailes.
Pau.
Oh Hiparcus that we had but
The Pluto here, to bustle with this storme
She would have layd her bough boldly in,
And c'eav'd a growne Sea with her brazen prow:
To beare her burden.
Hip.
Hell upon her leeware jade shee's crank-sided too,
Shee'le beare no saile; full, full, there.
Helme.
Done, done tis.
Hip.
See how she sheer's to and agen, full, full.
Pau.
Shee'le not feele her helme; port hard.
Hel.
Done 'tis.
Enter Boatswaine.
Boat.
Whose at the Helme, slave woo't bring our sailes
Into the winde, veare more sheate there,
For heavens sake Gentlemen to your Cabbins and pray.
Now mates stand to your Sailes, in with the leade there
Hoh the Cunnerey dew, west, steere dew-west,
Enter the King and Eucratia.
W'are too farre upon the lee shore, we shall never
Weather the land, if we fall to the Southward.
We be lost, the westward has a safe Bay
Wee'le beare up with the Land, full, full, ho!
Courage Madam we have a tight ship
And a stout ging, veare tacke and hale in
Your maine sheate, more hands there, in with
The foresaile.
Hip.
Right, right your Helme.
Helme.
Done 'tis.
Pau.
Mates cleare an Anchor to drop e're she strikes,
Thus, thus.
Exeunt all but the King and Eucratia.
King.
O ignorance of man! tis best seene
In divers wayes that knowledge runnes, this their Art
And wise direction is to me distraction:
Multitude of waters my teares, that my repentance may
Wash off this staine: 'Tis not the Sea
I sinke under, but my faults to you.
Can you forgive my blindnesse that has led
You into dangers, accursed be that traytor,
Villaine that brought 'um to that extreame,
Those a land I could have redeem'd but this
All these waters cannot prize.
Euc.
Tis not dangers fright mee, though yours bee joyn'd
To them, for which Heaven knowes
I have a paine, you prov'd such a friendly enemy:
My griefe concernes not my selfe now,
For I'm onely in the power of heaven, and
The gods are no lesse strong at Sea than land
And though their wonders dwell i'th deepe, yet
Their mercies waite there too.
King.
Oh divine Eucratia!
Let me kneele to thee, and in this storme call
Vpon thy name to save me.
Euc.
Tempt not those powers which must protect us
But joyne with me for my lost Sister poore Lucanthe,
Who is not onely subject to this storme
But the dangers too, with which a Traytors lust
Begirts her, Oh Sir I know to dye
Spotlesse is now her prayer, and all her wishes
Include but what we pray against, a wracke.
King.
She strikes Oh! we'are lost, she strikes Oh.
Within, Oh, oh, oh.
Enter Pausanes and Hiparcus.
Pau.
Man the Long-boate, not a man enters
Storme.
The Long boate now is all our hopes.
| The Prisoners | |