University of Virginia Library

[Scene]

Enter the Dauphin and Louize.
SCENE, A Bed-Chamber.
Dau.
What is the reason of this great unkindness?

Louiz.
Unkindness!

Dau.
Yes, you are unkind to me,
You forc'd your self last Night out o' my Arms,
And when I thought it was to sleep; you sigh'd,
Nay more, you wept, wept bitterly; I heard you,
Though I pretended sleeping; but the Damn'd
As soon might slumber in their pains as I.
When we were Arm in Arm lock't close together,
Cou'd any sorrow ere have got between us,
Had not your hollow Bosom let it in?
Out of what corner of the Heaven's blew
The Wind that did compose so many sighs,
And made such stormy weather in my Bed?

Lou.
I will not tell you. I'll in nothing gratifie
Him who can think so very meanly of me,
To doubt my kindness to a Prince I've married.

Daup.
I do not only doubt, but am assur'd
You love some secret miserable wretch;
For I will make him so, and in your sufferings,
If him I cannot find.

Lou.
Oh! in what Chains—
[Aside
Have I my self in my distraction bound,
For Vendosm's falshood has destroyd my Wits,
The fall of Heaven could not have broke me more.
Vendosm, and Falshood! I thought Heaven and Hell
Wou'd sooner have been joyn'd than those two words.

Daup.
Ha! are you weeping? Lest my fury find
Your hidden Lover out! I'le find him out.
This morn you early rose, and from your Cabinet
You fetch'd his Picture out.

Lou.
Oh! Im'e discover'd!—

[Aside
Dauph.
Then to the Window went and gaz'd upon it.
Debauch'd the Morning in its Infancy,
To light you whilst your eyes enjoyd the Picture;
They mingled wantonly with every line in't,
They shot themselves quite through and through the shadow.
The modest morning was asham'd to open
Her blushing eye-lids to behold your wantonness.
Whilst you, contented not alone with looks,
Did scorch the Picture with your burning Kisses,
As if you fain wou'd kisse it into Life.
I lay expecting when th'enlivened shadow
Would start into a man, and cuckol'd me.

Lou.
Oh! you have spoken largely in the praise
Of your great Wisdom, Kindness, Generosity.

Daup.
I think, I shew'd my self generous enough.
I did not rise and tear th'adulterer's Picture,
Your Body, Soul and Reputation,
Into a thousand Pieces.

Lou.
Wou'd you had;
Then Death had freed me from your Tyranny.

Daup.
Then you love Death it seems better than me.
You reward well my slighting, for your sake,
The Sister of the Duke of Burgundy:
And by that scorn, for halling on my head
The wrath of Burgundy, a War from England,
The Curses of all France, and of my Father.

Lou.
Did you not draw all these upon your self?
Threatning destruction to my Family,
And death to me, if I refus'd your Love?

Daup.
Oh! You do well to call to my remembrance
Those hateful things; as if you was afraid
Lest I should love you.

Lou.
I am weary of this,
I'le hear no more of it; Good morning to you.

Daup.
What? Will you leave me then?

Lou.
Shou'd I stay here,
To hold my hand up like a Criminal
Before your Jealousie, a base born Passion,
That has not one brave thought of all its race.
I'le leave you till your soul gets better company.

Exit.
Enter La Marre.
Daup.
She makes me mad! Ha! Sirrah: Are you here?

La Mar.
Oh! here's the Prince in one of his mad fits,
Ther's no scaping him; What shall I do?

Daup.
You are a Rogue.

La Ma.
I am, Sir, if you say so.

Daup.
Sirrah, you are, whether I say it or no.

La Ma.
Yes Sir, I am.

Daup.
You are a flattering Rogue.

La Ma.
Yes Sir.

Daup.
A double tongu'd dissembling Rogue.

La Ma.
Yes Sir.

Daup.
Who serve your King for your own ends.

La Ma.
Most certain Sir.

Daup.
And do not care how odious!
Your knavery render's him, so you can get by it.

La Ma.
Most true Sir, It has been my constant practice.

Daup.
And when you have gotten all you can by him,
For new advantages will turn his Enemy.

La Ma.
With all my heart Sir.

Daup.
A seditious Rogue,
And think there lye no Obligations on you
Of loyalty, of gratitude, or honesty;
But you will rather side with factious Rogues,
With such a Rogue as the great Constable,
Because he did prefer you to the Court,
Than to the King, who made you what you are.

La Ma.
That Sir, I've always done.

Daup.
And do'nt you merit
Hanging Sir?

La Ma.
Ay Sir, that's not to be question'd.

Daup.
Ho! Take this fellow here, and use him severely.

Enter Gentlemen.
La. Ma.
With all my Heart, and take it for an honour.

Daup.
I'me sick of Choller still, this narrow soul'd—
This shallow slave cannot contain the half—

The Gentlemen thrust out La Marre.
Enter Brisac.
Daup.
Oh! my Brisac, give me thy speedy counsel
Or else I shall run mad, I've been abus'd—

Bris.
By whom Sir?

Daup.
By that beautious thing I've married;
I know not what she is, Woman or Devil.
She's both, I think; to me she's a Devil.
When ever I embrace her, from my Arms
She vanishe's in Lightning, and in Thunder;
But there's a Slave, I know not who he is,
A hidden Slave, who find's her Flesh and Blood.

Bris.
Oh! say not so Sir.

Dauph.
I have proofs of it;
But I'le have more; I'le rifle all her Cabinets,
I'le rack her Servants, nay perhaps rack her;
Why shou'd I not? She has tormented me.
Along with me.

Exit.
Bris.
This Prince, though young and brave,
And Heir of France, how wretched is he? hated
By his lov'd Wife, his Father, and all France.
Our envy never wou'd great Men pursue,
If their great Plagues, and Passions too we knew.

Exit.