University of Virginia Library

ACTUS, 1.

SCENA, 1.

Anthenor, Leontius.
The Scene the front of Erminia's Palace.
Anth.
Noble Leontius,
once more y'are kindely welcome to Missena.
The many civilities and curtesies
I receiv'd from you at Argos, obliges me
to all the fair offices and services
I can do you here.

Leon.
Gentle Anthenor, all
I cod do to oblige a person of your worth,
was abundantly rewarded in the doing it,
and if you'd oblige me speak no more of it:
let's talk of somewhat else.—We hear Cleander
your noble General in the Attique War,
with victory leading him,
and fortune following him,
goes on like lightning consuming all before him,
and 'tis much wondred that imployment, was
not rather conferr'd upon the Prince, who wants
nor years, nor experience in the wars, to make
him fit for action; but necessity
of state (it seems) requir'd an older, and more
experienc't Souldier.

Anth.
Betwixt you and I
I'le tell you, those who not onely look upon
the outside of Princes actions,
but boldly pry into their insides too,
say, t'was not so much necessity of state
that sent the brave Cleander to the wars,
as more to facilitate the Dukes access
unto his Lady the admir'd Erminia—
But how do's your fair Princess Cyrena? that
we may freely talk of; t'was our hope the Prince
at's being at Argos shud have married her,
but the destinies of marriage were not pleas'd
it seems to make us so happy.

Leon.
It was our hopes too,
and we indeed wondred as much as you
he shud so suddenly leave her, but much more, she
shud so suddenly after leave her countrey,
since when none knows, nor can imagine, what's
become of her.

Anth.
You amaze me with your news!

Leon.
Mean time whilst others several wayes
address themselves in search of her,
I'm come to Missena here,
well knowing their former loves
and the attraction of mutual hearts,
when once th'ar toucht with the adamant of love

Ant.
Alas, I fear you'l hardly finde so much
as her memory with him now, who onely mindes
the fair Erminia, about whose palace
restlesly day and night like some pale ghost
he wanders, carefully seeking opportunity
of seeing her, whilst she as carefully
avoids his sight.

Leon.
This then made him it seems
with so little difficulty quit his place
abroad to Cleander, in hope to enjoy
his place at home.—And now I see among
the many possibility of things,
ne'r were, nor are, nor e're are like to be;
we well may reckon Lovers constancy.

Scena. 2.

Aurindo musing. Leontius, Anthenor
But what Youth's this, so fair and lovely, as
curious Nature doubtful which sex to make,
at last, ith' framing him seems to have made
one, who of either all perfections had.

Ant.
Oh! 'tis Aurindo the Princes page,
much lov'd and favour'd by him, but much more
by the Dutchess, who to avoid the Dukes jealousie
preferr'd him to the Prince.

Leo.
He muses on somewhat, and
there is a solemn sadness in his face,
excellently becomes him.

Ant.
He is alwayes sad and musing,
what ere's the matter:
but I must leave you, and beseech you
whilst you make your residence here,
I may have honour to serve you.

Exit.
Leo.
You too much honour your servant, Sir.

Au.
Now I perceive 'tis not the change of place
but change of minde, brings lovers rest, else 'tis
but just like sickmens turning them in their beds,
who finde rest no where, 'cause they carry still
their sicknesses and unrest along with them.

Leo.
Sure I shud know that face.

Aur.
Leontius! I
must hide me from him, and avoid his sight
as I'd avoid my fears.

Leo.
'Tis she I know
for certain now by her care not to be known:—
Hark you fair Youth, a word with you I pray.

Au.
With me Sir! pardon me, I know you not.

Le.
It rather befits me ask your pardon
for knowing you. But fear not, I shall call
you Aurindo still, or whatsoever name
in publick you please to be known by, so
you'l give me leave in private
to know you for my Princess.

Aur.
Leontius though you might well perceive
I desir'd not to be known, and therefore t'was
a bold curiosity; yet since I'm well assur'd
you did it with no undutiful intent,
I pardon you. But I command you let
this secret pass no further, neither enquire
the reason of my disguise. Whilst I am here
(which I hope shall not be long) in private you
may know me; but in publick I charge you take
no notice of me, neither be seen with me
lest you discover me; for your court eyes
are piercing ones, and there are many spies,—
and hark I hear some coming, go, begon
and leave me.

Exit Leontius.

Scena, 3.

Althea, Aurindo.
What is't onely she! this is
Althea Erminia's woman, who I know
not for what sins of mine, unless for loving
too much, is fearfully in love with me;
deliver me from her, for love in aged veins,
as fire in dry timber, burns always most terribly.
I'd fain avoid her, she persecutes me worse
then frosts do flowers, they blast, or Ivy, trees,
they kill, with their embraces!

Alt.
Gentle Aurindo!
happily met, 'tis so long since I saw you last
I might well expect the courtesie of a salute
from you.

Aur.
Oh—I were discourteous else:
good Althea I'm glad to see you well.

Alt.
What no more! and that so coldly too.

Aur.
What wod you have?
I know no other salutes.

Alt.
You are not so ignorant as you'd seem,
I'm sure, to know no better what salutes
belongs to a Gentlewoman.

Aur.
You would not have me make
you a curtsy wod you? that's your womans salute,
for mens I know no other.

Alt.
Pitty his ignorance;
I'le teach you if you know not; fie, where
have you been bred I wonder!
y'are so bashful! I must imbolden you:
this bashfulness in you,
shews worse then impudence in woman;
how nice and coy he is? t'will cost
me more pains and labour I fear to train him up
to womens businesses, then to break
a wilde unruly Colt unto the mannage:
come, come, pray sit down.

Au.
Pardon me, I'm in haste and cannot stay,

Al.
Always in haste! but tarry a little and Ile
tell you all my Ladies secrets.

Au.
I'm not curious.

Alt.
Look you what's here—nor liquorish neither?
h'as nothing of the Page in him.

Aur.
Pray let me go,
you have not seen my Lord the Prince?

Alt.
Yes but
I have though.

Aur.
And where I pray?

Alt.
Where you'r not like
to see him, let that suffice.

Aur.
Nay, if you can tell me
no more news of him, I must go seek out those
that can, and so farewell.

Exit.
Alt.
Gone? well,
I pitty him he's such a backward things,
and pitty the Prince who's as forward on tother side;
and one of these sighing lovers who sigh & sigh
like dry pumps, or broken-winded bellows,
for their Mistresses;
and to hear them, you would never wonder
at Lapland witches selling winds so cheap,
and imbrakt (as he is) in my Lady love;
I've sold him as much as comes to a little hope,
send him a good voyage of it—
but see my Lady, pray heaven
my plot take, I've venter'd hard
to give the Prince entrance, and opportunity
to speak with her.

Scena, 4.

The Scence, the Palace within.
Erminia, Althea.
Er.
Althea are all the doors shut?

Al.
They are Madam.

Er.
And have you given order they let none enter?

Al.
I have.

Er.
'Tis well.
So should wives live, honourable wives,
solitary & retir'd when their husbands are away,
always apprehending what will the people say;
for 'tis not now with women as t'was ith' dayes
of Innocence, when none imagin'd harm,
'cause none did any; but now if we admit
mens visits, they presently speak ill of it;
if womens ill too, ill of every thing:
& though publick rumor be but a breath 'tis true,
yet fame and honour is so pure a thing,
as like christal mirrors
'tis blemisht with every breath,
and more pure, more subject to blemishing.

Al.
The more's the pitty.

Er.
Then if they stir abroad,
the world's so foul and durty, how nicely one
must go, and step by step pick out their way
not to defile their Ermine purity?

Al.
Lo there? and I go dash, dash,
thorow thick and thin.
that's my way now.

Er.
Besides, how softly and warily must they tread,
not to awaken rumour and calumny,
which once fastning on our fames and honours,
oh how they tear them with their poisonous
teeth?

Al.
What a terrible bandog do's she make of it
which other Ladies play with, as familiarly
as with their little Shocks or Bononia Dogs?

Er.
In fine, this fame's a hard lesson,
and one must study it well.—

Al.
Faith 'tis so hard as I despair
Aside.
ever to learn it. I must put her out
of this study, or she's a lost woman.
And why this retirement and solitude, Madam?
most wives have never better dayes, then
in absence of their husbands.
What's a husband but a man? and there are
men enough in the world besides.

Er.
Is the wench mad?

Al.
No, but we shud think that woman so
shud pine away, and starve her self
in her husbands absence; & this is just your case:
uds bodykins before I'd torment my self so
for want of a husband,
I'd have twenty so I would.

Er.
Peace Althea, peace for shame,
and cease thy idle talk.

Al.
Pardon me, Madam, I am left in charge
of your health, and must speak.

Er.
Speak modestly then,
for I am left in charge of my honour too,
and must do that, it obliges me to do:
nor shall Cleander purchase more honor abroad,
then Erminia shall at home.

Al.
That man never gets honour (nor woman
that's never tried: what made Penelope (neither)
so famous (I pray) in her husbands absence, but
her entertaining so many Gallants as she did?
there was a valiant woman now. Let them come
as many as they wod, she fear'd them not,
she knew she cod deal with them all.
And you to lock up your self
(a this manner) for fear of them! there's wise
valour indeed!

Er.
As though there were not as much
valour, in Passive Fortitude, and holding out
a siege, against the enemy; as in the Active one,
of fighting them in the field. The one is
Cleander's honour, the other shall be mine.
In either we'l declare our selves invincible.

Al.
I grant you a mans honour
chiefly consists in fighting,
and a womans in defending her chastity;
but there's discretion in all things;
a man may fight and fight,
and yet be counted a quarrelsom
Coxcomb for his pains:
and a woman proud and peevish,
in defending her chastity:
give me a fair condition'd man or woman
'long as you live; & one, that understands reason.
I cannot blame young maids
to have always for burthen of their song,
a husband, a husband, for they never tryed,
and therefore may long perhaps;
but for married wives
to be alwayes in that tone, and crying out
for their husbands,
like fools and children for their baubles,
shews a kinde of incontinence,
and insatiate desire in them.

Er.
Cleander was my first love, & shall be the last
and onely one I'le ever have.

Al.
That shews
your ignorance now; for as that man shud never
be a great scholar who never red but in onebook,
so shud she never be a wise woman, who
never knew but one man. Variety
is good in every thing; and use in that,
as in all things else makes perfectness.

Er.
Well Althea,
I know you say this by way of argument now,
and onely to try your wit; but take heed,
'tis dangerous disputing against known verities;
“and Atheisme in Religion,
“Rebellion in States, and dissolution
“in life and manners, had all their rise at first
“from knowing the best, and arguing for the
worst.

Al.
Well then, since you will needs be so far
out of fashion of other wives,
to remember your husband in's absence;
how can you better do't then by recommending
him in your Orasons to the Gods?
and my Lord Cleander being now expos'd
to the dangerous chance of war, to whom can you
better recommend him, then to the God of war?

Er.
Now thou advisest well.
Mars's Statue discovered, Erminia kneels.
Great Mars, thou whose potent Arm do's weild
The deadly pointed Lance, and mighty Shield,
Fight for my dear Cleander with the one,
And with the other, O defend him from
His enemies abroad, and grant that he
May safely but return with victory:
So shall I ever honour thee, ever pay
My vows unto thee; and on thy Altars lay
The purest offrings the world e're cod get,
Or e're were laid upon thy Altars yet.
Hear me great Mars.

Scena, 5.

The Prince in form of Mars's Statue, Erminia, Althea.
Pr.
I do.

Er.
Prodigious! the Statue speaks!

Pr.
'Tis you, fairest, have animated it.

Al.
A good beginning, if it hold on as well.

Er.
Cold horror seizes me! and I'm become
by wondrous metamorphose,
of living, a dead statue,
as that of dead's become a living one.—
And see it moves too!

descends from his base.
Pr.
'Tis your beauty, fairest,
has given me life and motion;
and if in the cold veins
of frozen marble t'has the vertuous force
to inspire and infuse such spirit and vital heat,
imagine in my bosom
what it must needs beget.

discovers himself
Er.
Ha! my Lord the Prince!

Pr.
The Prince your servant, dearest,
for you metamorphos'd into statue thus,
for you, thus chang'd into my self again.

Al.
Stay Madam, whither go you?
he will not hurt you.

Er.
Gods and my better Angels defend me!
how came you here?

Pr.
Your powerfull charmes, sweetest,
did bring me hither.

Al.
That's well answer'd, I was afraid he
would have said t'was I

Aside.
Er.
And what wod you here?

Pr.
Onely that you would please
to hear me speak.

Er.
Though I might well deny you,
coming as you do, yet on condition
you speak nothing but what is honourable,
nothing but what befits both you to say,
and me to hear, I am content.

Al.
Shame on this Honour,
I'm afear'd he'l hardly speed.

Exit.
Pr.
What can be more honorable? or how
can I honour you more?
then to come here with no less devotion,
then to the Temple of the Immortal Gods,
to offer my vows and orasons at your shrine.

Er.
That's an Idolatry I cannot admit
without a crime, an honour too too great
and too divine for me.

Pr.
To com to that which is more humane then,
I come to beg your help for one that's sick,
your pitty for a miserable wretch,
burns, languishes, and consumes away,
for love of yon.

Er.
Nay, if you talk
of love once, I'm gone.

Pr.
And if you go I dye:—
of what shud I talk but of love to you? who are
all lovely? Cruel as you are, can ye
behold my sufferings and never pitty me!
shud Heaven be so pittiless,
alwayes to look upon the Earth with cruel
Canicular eyes, we soon shud see
all burn, languish, and consume like me.

Er.
You call me cruel, and you your self
are far more cruel to your self then I;
for what remedy for one, will needs be sick?
or what means to quench their fires will needs
Nero-like, be their own incendaries?
But now, to let you see
I'm not so pittiless as you imagine me,
If't be my sight occasions your malady,
and inflames you so, I'le instantly be gon
and leave you.

Pr.
Ah do not, do not go;
that were a remedy worse then the disease.
Think not, think not excellents of your sex
to quench the fire y'ave kindled in my breast
by taking away the Torch that kindled it;
that were to mock my flame and me. No, no,
your Eyes have double vertue,
to wound and cure me too.

Er.
'Tis vice not vertue to kindle unlawful fires.
Know Sir, I am anothers: and as t'were crime
in me to give away what's none of mine,
so 'tis no less in you
to covet what's none of yours.

Pr.
'Tis crime in Cleander rather
to appropriate to himself an universal good,
and injustice in you to consent unto
th'impoverishing the world
to enrich Cleander's bed.

Er.
And you would steal me from him.
Is this noble? this Prince-like? do you not see
one may as wel bereave you of your principality.

Pr.
I may taste the fruit
and yet not be proprietary of the Tree.

Er.
Without theft you cannot,
unless the owner will;
and I'm so absolutely Cleanders, he cannot
alienate me though he wod,
nor relinquish his right of me.

Enter Althea hastily.
Al.
O Madam, Madam!

Er.
Ha! what's the matter?

Al.
My Lord the Duke.

Er.
What shall we do then?
My Lord, you see
what dishonour y'are like to bring
upon my house and me, if you be seen here.

Al.
To your disguize my Lord;
be a statue agen, and all will be well:
nay quickly, quickly, so.

Scena, 6.

The Duke, Erminia, Althea, the Prince.
Duk.
What's here? silence;
where Fame's loudest tongue
proclaims all Excellency? and solitude,
where she is, who with fames of her excellence
fills all the world? leave, leave this sadnes Madam:
I come to bring you joyful news. Cleander
your noble husband has finished the wars,
and onely attends dispatch of a few affairs,
to return and bring us peace, and you the joy
and happiness of seeing him.

Er.
Your Highness too much honours
your humblest servant, to be messenger
of this your self. Propitious heaven has heard
my prayers for the publique safety then I see,
if Cleander but return with victory.

Duke.
And I hope
You'l have some care of my private safety too,
fair cruel Mistress, and not suffer me
to perish here at home, whilst Cleander so nobly
abroad, preserves us all from perishing.

Er.
Can you remember that my Lord, and be
so unjust and ungrateful to him,
to seek to dishonour him,
who honours you so much;
and tempt me to so vilde ingratitude?

D.
Dishonor is but the blasting of publick breath
let us be private onely in what we do,
and there's no fear of that.

Er.
Whilst there is heaven
and conscience, there' no privacy for sin.

Du.
there is no greater sin then uncharitablenes
and want of love, and of that y'are highly guilty
Erminia. Think on't, and though it be
Empire to be beautiful, yet Majesty
and Beauty share Empire equally betwixt them,
and remember I'm your Prince.

Er.
I do my Lord,
and wod your Highness did but remember't too,
and the mighty obligation Princes have
to be good & vertuous; who are to give example
of goodness, and vertue unto all.
Princes are publick fountains, from whose maners
all others are deriv'd; & if they be infected once,
a general infection necessarily follows:—
and is this the example you give the Prince your
Sonne?

Duk.
Pho! he sees it not, and hears not of it.

Er.
But statues, have ears, and eyes.

Pr.
Will she discover me?

Alt.
What will become of this?
I must finde out some means to send him hence,
or he'l mar all.

Exit.
Duke.
Come, now we are alone,
I must tell you, modesty's a habit
Ladies wear in publick, & it becomes them well:
but in private they alwayes lay't aside,
& so shud you. And if you'd know the difference
'twixt the modest and immodest, 'tis onely this;
t'one puts off their modesties with their clothes,
t'other before, that's all.

Er.
I'le tell you my Lord another difference yet,
the modest stop their ears
'gainst such immodest purposes as these,
and can't endure to be where they are spoke.

Duke.
Stay, you will not leave me, I hope.

Er.
I hope you will not force me?
shud you offer it,
the very statues here (I'm sure) wod stand up
in my defence.

The statue moves.
Duke.
Ha!

Er.
And see the God of War,
in just resentment of the injury
you offer to the best of Warriors,
begins to stir in it.

Enter Althea hastily again.
Alt.
Oh, Madam, Madam!

Er.
What news!

Alt.
My Lords' return'd.

Er.
Is't possible?

Du.
How! without my privity, and unknown to me?
it cannot be.

Er.
Beseech you my Lord be gon.
Cleander loves me more then his life I know,
but his honour more then me. Imagine then
what storms and tempests the clouds of jealousie
to see you here must raise in his noble minde.

Du.
I'm so confounded I know not what to say,
nor what to do.

Exit.
Alt.
So, let him go to's Duchess
to cure his love-sick fever; she's yong & handsom
and having so good remedy at home,
what needs he seek abroad? But for the Prince,
the poor Prince, who's wholly unprovided,
in truth t'were charity to help him.

Er.
Well remember'd help,
help him away
before my Lord comes, by any means.

Alt.
There's no fear of that:
his coming was onely a story feign'd by me
to send the Duke away.

Er.
Nothing else?

Pr.
Excellent Wench,
then I may be my self again.

Er.
Hark, what noise is this!
Leaps down. A noise of fighting within.
clashing of weapons? louder and louder still?
there is some fighting. Althea shut the doors
and call up all our servants.

Exit.
Alt.
What? hoa, Clinias, Cleobulo.

Exit.
Pr.
VVhat shud this be?
the noise comes from the Garden door
where I commanded my followers to attend me,
and let none enter, but make good that passage
till my return. I'le out and see what 'tis.

Drawes, and Exit.

Scena, 7.

Enter one running meeting Clinias, Cleobulo.
1.
O Clinias! run, run.

Clin.
VVhat to do?

1.
No matter for that: run, run I say.

Clin.
But whither?

1.
More interrogations!
no matter for that neither; run, run,
as you will answer it.

Exit.
Clin.
Hurry, hurry, hurry,
these fellows think no business can be done
without noise and bustle; and I must
make a noise and bustle too,
They'l think I'm idle else. Whoo, whoo, whoo.

Enter Cleobulo with hands in his Pocket.
Clin.
Come come what haste you make now?
and all the house is in an uproar.

Cle.
Therefore I make no more haste,
I do not love these uproars and hurly-burlies, I;
but what's the matter can you tell?

Clin.
Nay hang me if I know,
or much care either;
onely if't be any fighting matter,
fight who's list for me, I have no minde unto't.

Cle.
Faith nor I neither;
wherefore and't sayst the word,
let's to the cellar, for that's a Sanctuary;
& for reverence of god Bacchus I hope they will
respest it accordingly.

Cli.
Content, but let's make haste then,
for I hear some coming.

Scena 8.

The Scene, Erminia's Gardenwall, terminated by the prospect of her Pallace.
Cleander, Amynter, with their Swords drawn, taking off their false Beards.
Am.
That sure was the Duke who first went hence,
but who those other were, denyed us passage;
or he who last came out disguis'd, and so
fiercely assaulted us, I do not know.

Cle.
But I had known, or searcht his heart for it,
had they not rescued him.
and is this the so renown'd Ermenia?
for solitude, in my absence! she sate
like solitary Turtle in absence of its mate:
no Anchoress more inclos'd,
no Recluse more retir'd!
to whom there's more resort,
then ever was to Corinth in ancient time,
when Thais and Phrine were in their prime,
those famous prostitutes; prostituting her Fame
and honour, if not her self.—
Thanks to my disguize for this discovery,
in which I thought to have ta'n her by surprize
to our greater joy; but now to my greater grief
I'm more surpriz'd my self.

Am.
Indeed 'tis passing strange.

Cle.
But from the witness of these eyes of mine
I might not have believ'd it. Why this is right
Courtesan like: Bravo's dispos'd at door
to let in Customers, keep their pleasure free
and undisturb'd; the door's open to all,
onely debar'd to me, her Husband.

Am.
Nay now
you go too far with your suspitions.

Cl.
I'le go farther yet, none knows of my arrival
but onely you; you shall conceal me, and
present me to her as a present sent from me
in some disguise, may gain me not onely access
into the house, but into her bosome too.

Am.
Had you not better discover you presently,
I do not like this seeking that we shud
be loath to finde, and hunting with our own
curiosities, but our own disquiets.

Cle.
Our quiets rather,
for so knowing for certain
what now I but suspect, my mind will be at rest,
imagine else how miserable I shud be,
to have the mariage bed poyson'd with jealousie,
and all its sweets imbitter'd with the thought
that she is false? no, I like not this gentle
handling wounds, which till th'are throughly searcht,
can never be throughly cur'd:
I am resolv'd to try. What e're may chance,
“of all evils the worst is ignorance.

Am.
Pray Heavens you find not jealousie a
worser yet,
for ignorance though't be a dull disease,
yet 'tis not painful; 'tis a Lethargy
of minde, benums us so, as though
w'are sick, we know not how sick we are:
but jealousie like the Wolf, or Vipers brood
knaws and tears out their very bowels,
who breed it, and give it food.

Cle.
'Tis not to be jealous, but free from jealousie
I undertake this tryal, and to
take my self off the painful rack of doubt.

Am.
They make themselves more miserable
then they were,
who fall from what they doubt to what they fear

C.
Dispute it no more, I am resolv'd to try her;
and as I finde her faith and Loyalty,
away she goes, or else my Jealousie.