 | The Injured Princess, or the Fatal Wager |  |
ACT I.
Enter Ursaces, Eugenia and Pisanio, Clar. Lelia.Pisan.
Hell now has done its worst; the meagre Furies have open'd
all their Viols of black Malice, and shed the utmost drop—
Is't possible! What Commission from the King to seize and
banish my dearest Friend! Who would be good or vertuous
if this be the reward! Can it be true?—What banish'd!
Eugen.
Oh killing Sound! The greatest pang of death is easie to this Torment.
Ursa.
'Tis my Fortune.
But Oh ye immortal Powers! what is my sin,
To merit this thy worst of punishments?
Eugen.
If it be sin to love, we are past mercy,
For never hearts were swell'd with that true passion,
As was Ursaces and Eugenia's.
Pisan.
Hell swallow thee quick that causest this Separation:
Thou hast the old man's Curse; I hope 'twill speed thee:
To weep is but in vain.
Ursa.
My Queen, my Mistress,
Stop these warm bubling Springs that melt my heart;
Those Currents dearer than the Wealth of Ganges,
Now flowing down the Rosie Fields of Beauty;
The truest Husband that ere plighted faith:
My Residence in Gallia at Beaupre's;
My Father's Friend: Thither write my Soul,
And I will feed upon each Character,
And wear the Paper out with eager Kisses.
Eugen.
So will I yours, with keeping in my bosom,
Here near my heart—O the sad thought of parting!
Ursa.
It must be so.
Eugen.
Nay stay a little longer:
Were you but riding out to take the Air,
Such parting were too slight—See here my Love,
This Diamond was my Mothers—wear it for me,
And keep it till you wooe another Wife,
When poor Eugenia's dead.
Ursa.
Another Wife!
Why my best Life; Oh why that cruel word!
Another Wife! No, you supream Directors
Give me my own; let me enjoy but this,
And freeze up my Embraces of a next
With Death's cold Icicle.
Remain thou here while Sence can keep it on;
And Sweetest Dearest,
As I my poor self did exchange for you,
To your so infinite loss, so in our Trifles
I still win of you—for my sake wear this Bracelet:
It has a Charm 'gainst Levity and Jealousie;
'Twill keep me in your mind.
Eugen.
It shall grow to me, and from my Arm
Never shall be separated—Ha, my Father!
When my Ursaces shall we meet again?
Ursa.
When? Heaven can tell.
Enter Cymbeline, Queen and Train.
Cym.
Still dar'st thou with thy baseness wound my eyes:
Mechanick Wretch, lost both in birth and merit,
Can thy plum'd Insolence dare to soar so high,
As to contemn my Orders?
Ursa.
Royal Sir,
Grace but my Story with a minutes audience.
Cym.
Ha! Wouldst thou speak?
And shall I patient hear my own dishonour,
Having yet bleeding Wounds new prob'd—What listen
To my Daughters Infamy? and shall a Vassal,
The Creature of my Charity, insolently dare
To stamp his plebeian Image on my Coyn,
Queen.
Mercy, Sir, adds lustre to a Crown;
'Tis lost on stubborn minds.
Cym.
Hence from my sight:
If after the next dawn within my Kingdom,
Appears so vile a Creature as Ursaces,
That moment is thy last of Life—Away
Thou poyson to my Bloud.
Ursa.
Heaven keep your Majesty,
And may your years and joys numerous as sands,
Crowd happily upon you.
So poor Offenders trembling meet their doom,
Punish'd by death, yet fear a worse to come.
[Exit.
Eugen.
So breaks the dear strings of the panting heart,
When the lov'd life flyes from it—Oh—
Clarin.
Was ever Scythian Cruelty like this,
Or long Divorce so bitter?
Cymb.
Was ever King so wretched in his Off-spring,
Or ever careful Father curs'd as I?
Queen.
Are you not mighty? Shall the lofty Oak
Stoop to the Shrub beneath it? No, rather root it up.
O that my Spirit lodg'd within your Bosom,
I would not counsel but command Obedience!
Eugen.
Madam, I must believe you are my Step-mother,
Better known to me by that title than your Love.
Cymb.
She is your Queen, whose Son you might have married,
Had wisdom guided thy unskilful youth:
Design'd to make thee happy.
Eugen.
Happy?
Queen.
Nay let her use her pleasure:
A Jewel of true worth, exceeding lustre,
Sure need not court the wearer; nor shall my Son
By humble flattery sooth her pride and vainness:
If as her Equal she think fit to treat him,
My voice is his—but I'le have no Submissions.
But I shall court occasion to consider
This sly contempt—You shall know who I am.
Eugen.
I do too well.
Cymb.
Thou too well know'st thy shame, but from this moment
I charge thee on thy life not shed a Tear,
Nor breath a Sigh—But entertain the Prince
As he deserves, with the best face of Smiles:
Bury in black oblivion that low Fellow,
That exil'd Wretch Ursaces, forget for ever,
Or by the Gods of Britain, by my Crown,
And my Queens Love,
I'le cast thee out a stranger to my Bloud,
[Exeunt K. Q. G.
Clarin.
There yet is comfort, could you calm this Passion:
Your Father may relent, your Lord return,
And you again be blest, a happy Princess.
Eugen.
A Princess? O vain Title, and thou ingrate
To mock my bitter Woes with Quality,
The curs'd cause of my Grief—Ah wou'd I were
Some Shepherd's Daughter, and my dear Ursaces
The Darling of some neighb'ring Villager!
That through the flowery Meadows sent him daily,
His Scrip well fill'd with store of Rustick Viands,
To treat me under some old shady Oak,
The Monarch of the Grove: Then then should I be happy;
There wou'd we look and smile, and talk and sing,
And tell a hundred, hundred pretty Tales,
Vow lasting passions all the live-long day,
And sigh, and kiss the happy hours away.
Enter Pisanio.
Clarin.
Here comes my Father.
Eugen.
May all thy years, thou Parent of my Life,
Be long and happy, as thou bring'st me comfort.
How did my Lord support this Separation?
Pisan.
Like your Lord,
I kiss'd his hand aboard, saw the hois'd Sails,
Stood on the shore, and view'd the rowling waves,
Then smooth as Youth, and mild as modest Vertue,
Courting his presence—all the gentle winds
Were lodg'd in remote corners, softly breezing,
To waft that Treasure safely to the Port,
On which your Life depends.
Eugen.
My Life indeed—But good old Sir,
Tell me (for there's a Theam of Truth lodg'd in that Face)
What was the last kind word he spoke of me?
Pisan.
His Queen, his Wife, and then remov'd from shore.
Just as I left him,
I saw him clasp his hands, and kiss your Ring.
Eugen.
Sensless Jewel, happier far than I!
But could'st thou leave him so?—had I been there,
I would ha'broke my Eye-strings, crack'd 'um,
And look'd after him till the diminution of space
Had pointed him, sharp as my Needle;
And when the envious distance barr'd my sight
Of that bless'd Object, turn'd my eyes and wept.
Pisan.
I could not stop that Tribute more than you,
What War could never force, mild Pity drew.
I did not take my leave of him, but had
Most pretty things to say, ere I cou'd tell him
How I would think of him at certain hours
Such thoughts, and such—ere I could make him swear,
The Gallian Beauties never should betray
My Interest, or his Honour, or have charg'd him
At the sixth hour of Morn, or Noon, or Midnight,
To bless me with his Greeting: Or ere I could
Give him a parting Kiss, which I had set
Between two charming words, comes in my Father,
And like the stubborn blast o'th' stormy North,
Nipp'd all my Buds from blowing.
Enter Lelia.
Lelia.
Madam, Prince Cloten's coming.
Eugen.
I'le fly him as the Plague: My Lord, your Servant;
Alas, how poor a thing's a Fool of Quality!
[Exit.
Pisan.
Had Nature stamp'd all Women in this mould,
Our Sex had all been damn'd, attractive Love and Beauty
Had lull'd us to the Devil; we shou'd have doted so,
Self-murder must have followed,
And shown th'effect of too much Love and Jealousie.
But they are not all like this—This is a Creature
So good, I almost wonder that she lives:
Her Lord's a brave young man too, and when I prove
False to his merit, may I then be wretched.
Enter Cloten, Jachimo, Attendants.
Cloten.
But to have six to four for 200 Guinies,
And lose, is damn'd luck, tho' by your favour, for a man
Of my quality, ha Jachimo! honest drunken Lord, is't not?
Jach.
'Twas indifferently hellish—the Devil had a paw in't,
That's certain.
But stay, how now, who's that?
Cloten.
'Ud so, 'tis my Lord Pisanio, and I'le lay a Wager sent Messenger to
me from the Princess Eugenia.
I, see she will make her marry me in spite of her. How now my Lord Pisanio,
what News with you, umph?
My Lord Jachimo, prithee be wise now, and look soberly a little.
Jach.
Never fear me man, I am sober as a Judge.
Cloten.
And how does the Princess old Lord—ha—does she come about,
does she relent, does she yet know the difference between Lord Cloten, and
that mechanick banish'd Worm Ursaces?
Pisan.
A Worm, my Lord?
A Worm, my Lord, ay a Maggot, if compar'd to me; hang him,
indigent Rascal, were there no other Reason, I hate him for his Poverty, for
he's not worth a Groat, as poor as Jehu.
Jach.
Jehu?
Job, Job, my Lord, 'twas Job was the poor Rat.
Cloten.
I say 'twas Jehu: Prithee Jachimo be silent, a Pox I wonder you
will pretend to talk when you see you are drunk.
Jach.
Mum, mum—I've done: But, my Lord, prithee ask him if he knows
where we may find a sound Wench; he's a flauging old Whipster, I warrant
him.
Pisan.
The disease of Folly may be infectious, I'le be gone.
Cloten.
Hark you my Lord, why in such hast—have you no message from
the Princess?—umph—
Pisan.
The Princess? Not I, my Lord.
Cloten.
Not you, my Lord? and why so—may never look sow'r for the matter,
Gad if you do, I'le be reveng'd, I'le tell you that the Queen shall know
it; I'le not be affronted, not I, by ne're a State-Caterpillar in Britain; Gad
any one that frowns at me is the Son of a Whore, and my Mother shall get
him poyson'd.
Pisan.
My Lord, I know nothing of your Affair; I beseech you make not
my Age the Subject of your Anger; I am not fit to be privy in Love-matters;
the Princess may be fond, dote, languish, nay die for you, but for my part I am
ignorant.
Cloten.
O may she so, Sir—dost hear that, Jachimo?
Jach.
Oons, Pull off his Beard, confound his Whiskers; what does he
prate?
Cloten.
I thought she could not hold out long: Come Jachimo, thou and I
will go and prepare a Serenade for her.
Jach.
Let's put old Drybones there upon a wooden Dromedary,
Carry him before her Window, and make him sing her a Song.
Cloten.
Ha, ha, he! 'twould be rare sport faith; but hang him, we won't
do him that honour: Come, come away.
[Exeunt singing.
Pisan.
That such a subtle Devil as his Mother
Should bring the World this Ass—this Ape of Mankind;
A Woman too that puts down all with Brain,
And over-reaching Plots, yet this great Fool her Son
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,
And leave eighteen—Alas poor Eugenia, how I pity thee!
Now I'le to the King;
If I can, I'le serve thee; if not, wish thee well.
[Exit.
Enter Queen Aurelia, and Ladies.
Queen.
There goes Ursaces Parasite, that old Fellow
Does me, my Son, and great Design, more mischief,
Than any now at Court. Well, what's to be done then?
When a Tree stands to hinder a good Prospect,
The only way's to fell it—he shall down,
His Fate is cast—Aurelia.
Your Majesty.
Queen.
Is the Doctor come yet?
Aurel.
Not yet Madam, but expected every moment.
Queen.
That Instrument of Fate I've brib'd to serve me;
He has strange poys'nous Drugs, whose mortal Quality
Hold deadly enmity with humane Life.
This being mine, I'le try the first effects
Upon this Lord, this Bar of my Ambition,
This foe to my Son's Greatness—where's Eugenia?
Aurel.
The Princess, Madam?
Queen.
Could you not answer me without that Title?
The Princess? you'l call her Queen ere long.
Aurel.
Your Majesties Pardon; I know more of duty.
Queen.
Has she been seen to day?
Aurel.
Nor yesterday, Madam.
The twilight Bat that hates the meridian Sun,
Keeps not so close, her Window's are dam'd up,
And not a Creature suffer'd to come near her,
But her new Favourite Clarinna.
Queen.
Pisanio's Daughter?
Aurel.
Yes, Madam.
Queen.
Send one to tell him I wou'd speak with him.
Exit Aur.
They're plotting hourly, therefore 'tis fit Vengeance
Should be swift; for by Pisanio's death,
My Son mounts one step higher towards the Throne.
The King is old, too old to share my heart,
And if he dies, Eugenia then is Queen:
But Queen of Shades she shall be ere that happen,
If she refuse the Marriage with my Son—
Vertue avant, thou Dream, thou airy Phantasm;
Had I been lowly born, I might have been
Thy Votary—but 'tis below a Queen.
Ambition's Vertue now, therefore be gone:
Cloten, For thee I'le cut through all Opposers,
King, Husband, Daughter, Friend, I'le stop at none,
But on their bloudy Ruines build thy Throne.—
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter Beaupre, Shattillion, and Don Michael.Shatt.
Upon my Honour, Sir, I have observ'd him in Britain; he was then
of a declining fame, and not expected to reap the additional Honour
Fortune has since bless'd him with: I could have look'd on him then,
without the help of admiration, tho' the Catalogue of his Endowments had
been tabl'd by his side, and I to peruse him by Items.
Beaup.
You speak of him when he was much less accomplish'd than now he
is. Consider, Sir, he was young, he was young.
D. Mich.
I have seen him at Madrid, and am of opinion, we had many
there that could behold the Sun with as firm eyes as he.
Shatt.
This business of marrying his King's Daughter, wherein he must be
weigh'd by her youth and weakness, rather than his own value, ecchoes him,
I doubt not, a great deal above his true worth.
D. Mich.
And then his Banishment.
Shatt.
I, and the approbation of those that weep. This lamentable Divorce
to comply with her, seem wonderfully to extend him: But I shall shortly be
better inform'd; for I design a speedy Journey to Britain, where perhaps I
may spend the best part of this Summer.
D. Mich.
If the Ladies there are to be won at this easie rate, your time, Sir,
may not be altogether lost.
Shatt.
Why faith 'tis to be hop'd so; and for my encouragement, the
Gentleman has giv'n us a good hint of the free Constitution of his Countrey.
But how comes it, Sir, he is to sojourn with you? Pray how creeps Acquaintance.
Beaup.
His Father and I have commanded together, to whom I have been
often bound for no less than my Life: Here he comes; and pray let him be so
esteem'd among you, as suits with Gentlemen of your knowledge to a Stranger
of his Quality—I beseech you.
Be better known to this Gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble
Friend of mine; how worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather
than story him in his own hearing.
D. Mich.
Sir, If my memory play not the Traitor with me, I think I had
the honour of your Company once in Spain.
Ursa.
Since when, Sir, I have been debtor to you for Courtesies, which I
will be ever to pay, and yet pay ever.
D. Mich.
Sir, You o're-rate my poor kindness; I was glad I did attone
my Countreyman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together,
and trivial a nature.
Ursa.
Sir, I was then but a young Traveller, and rather desir'd to be silent
in what I heard, than to be guided by others Experiences; but upon my riper
judgement, (if I offend not to say it is riper) my Quarrel was not altogether
slight.
D. Mich.
Faith, yes to be put to the Arbitrement of Swords, and by two
such that would by all likelihood have disabl'd one the other, or have fall'n
both.
Shatt.
Can we with manners ask what was the difference?
D. Mich.
Safely I think: 'Twas a Contention in publick about the praise
of our Countrey-Mistresses; this Gentleman at that time vouching, and upon
warrant of bloud affirmation, his to be more fair, vertuous, wise, chast, constant,
qualifi'd, and less contemptible, than any the rarest of our Spanish
Ladies.
Shatt.
That Lady is not living now sure, or this Gentleman's Opinion by
this worn out.
Ursa.
Sir, She holds her Vertue still, as I my Mind.
Shatt.
You must not so far prefer her before ours of Gallia.
Ursa.
Being so far provok'd as I was at Madrid, I wou'd diminish nothing,
tho' I profess my self her Adorer, not her Friend.
Shatt.
Methinks as fair, and as good, a kind of hand in hand Comparison
were somewhat too good for any Lady in Britany; for as that Diamond of
yours there outshines some I have seen, so perhaps may she; but I have not
seen the most precious Diamond that is, nor you the Lady Sir.
Ursa.
I prais'd her as I rated her, so do I my Jewel.
Shatt.
What do you esteem it at?
Ursa.
More than the World enjoys.
Shatt.
Then it must of necessity follow, that your unparalell'd Mistress is
outpriz'd by a Trifle.
Ursa.
You are mistaken: 'Tis possible one may be sold or giv'n, if there
were Wealth enough for the Purchase, or Merit for the Gift; the other is not
a thing for Sale, and only the Gift of Heaven.
Shatt.
Which Heav'n has given you.
Ursa.
Yes, and which, with its leave I will keep.
Shatt.
In secure Opinion, the contented blessing of the Wife. 'Tis true,
you may; but you know, Sir, Strange Fowl light upon neighb'ring Ponds;
your Ring may be stoll'n too, and so your brace of unprizable Estimations be
lost; the one being frail, and the other casual, a cunning Thief, or a (that
way) accomplish'd Courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and
last.
Ursa.
Your Gallia contains none so accomplish'd a Courtier, to my knowledge:
If in point of Constancy you term my Mistress frail; I doubt not but
you may have store of Thieves, but yet I fear not my Ring.
Shatt.
Thieves in Love, Sir; we are for the pleasant way of Larceny.
Ursa.
Ay 'tis well you steal Love, your Rhetorick else would hardly promote
you higher than the Intrigue of a Shepherd's Daughter.
Come enough of this Gentlemen; pray let's leave here.
Ursa.
Sir, With all my heart: This worthy Monsieur, I thank him, makes
no Stranger of me; we are familiar at first fight.
Shatt.
With five times so much Rhetorick I should get ground of your
fair Mistress, nay perhaps make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance
and opportunity to befriend me.
Ursa.
No, no.
Shatt.
Come, I'le make a bold Proposition: I will lay the Moiety of my
Estate to your Ring, which in my opinion overvalues it something—that I
can win your Lady: I make this Wager now rather against your Confidence,
than her Reputation; and to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it
against any Lady in the World.
Ursa.
Come Sir, you abuse your self, and wou'd, I doubt not, sustain
what you deserve by such an Attempt.
Shatt.
What's that?
Ursa.
Why a shameful repulse, tho' your attempt deserves more a punishment
too.
Shatt.
As how Sir?
Ursa.
To have your Nose slit cross, your sland'rous Tongue pull'd out by
the roots, torn, mangl'd, cut to atomes, and blown like common filth into the
Air.
Shatt.
And who should do this?
Ursa.
I, were I concern'd: Come, Sir, hold your Tongue, or by Heaven I
shall—
Both offer to draw.
Shatt.
What a sleepy Britain?—I'le try that.
Beaup.
Hold Gentlemen, and as you are my Friends forbear; there has
been too much said—it came in suddenly, let it die as it was born, I beseech
you be reconcil'd.
D. Mich.
The Gentleman was a little too free in language.
Shatt.
Mor dieu, Would I had my Estate and my Friend's, on confirmation
of what I speak.
Ursa.
That you would win my Lady?
Shatt.
Yours to choose, who in Constancy, you think, stands so fair—
Come Sir, let us lay by this petty Brawl; I will lay you 10000 Duckats to
your Ring, that commend me to the Court where your Lady is, and with no
more advantage than the opportunity of a second Conference, I will bring
from thence that Honour of hers which you imagine so reserv'd.
Ursa.
I will wage Gold against your Gold; my Ring I hold as dear as my
Finger, 'tis part of it.
Shatt.
Oh you are a great Courtier Sir, and know that to buy Ladies Flesh
at millions a dram is cheap, tho' you cannot keep it from tainting; but I see
you have some Religion in you that you fear.
Ursa.
Faith, I fear Religion much more than your Prowess: And now to
reclaim your vanity, let there be Covenants drawn between us, and I will accept
your Wager. Come now, I dare you to't; there's my Ring.
[Gives it Beaupre.
Shatt.
'Tis done.
Beaup.
I will have it no Lay.
By the Gods 'tis one. If I bring you not sufficient testimony that I
have enjoy'd the dearest bodily part of your Mistress, my 10000 Duckats are
yours, so is your Diamond too; but if I thrive in my Enterprize, this your
Jewel is mine, provided I have a Letter of Recommendation for my better
Entertainment.
Ursa.
I embrace the Conditions; only thus far you shall answer: If you
attempt her, and give direct proof you have prevail'd, I am no further your
Enemy, she is not worth a Quarrel; but if she remain chast, you not making
it appear otherwise; then for the ill Opinion, and the Assault you have made
to her Chastity, you shall answer me with your Sword.
Shatt.
Your Hand—my Honour on't—I'le fetch my Gold, have our two
Wagers recorded, and then away for Britain.
And if I lose, I must prove dumb or blind;
Ursa.
If win, there is no Hell like Womankind.
[Exeunt.
| The Injured Princess, or the Fatal Wager | |