University of Virginia Library

ACTUS. 3.

SCENA 1.

Cleander like an Ethiope, Amynter.
The Scene, Erminia's Pallace.
Cleander.
Y'are sure the Duke will visit her.

Am.
I'm sure,
if he love her he'l rather dye then fail;
and if he fails, 'tis sign he loves her not.

Cle.
'Tis well, make haste to present me to her then,
I wod be present at
their parley and interview;
and what d'ye think? am I sufficiently
disguiz'd?

Am.
Disguiz'd! y'ar chang'd, and are no more
Cleander; Proteus was never so transform'd:
I, who know you even doubt whether it be you,
& were your thoughts but chang'd as all the rest,
your self would doubt
whether 'twere your self or no.

Cle.
Then do you tell her I'm both deaf and dumb,
that so having provided for all without,
that nothing from within may issue forth
to betray me, I'le shut up the port of speech,
and my thoughts shall hold no intelligence with
my tongue.

Am.
Peace, here comes some of the house,
you'l see how they'l wonder to see me here.

Scena, 2.

Althea to them, then Erminia, Clinias, Cleobulo.
Alt.
How Amynter! my Lords inseparable
companion & bosom friend! O madam, madam,
who's here d'ye think?

Enter Erminia, Clinias, Cleobulo after.
Er.
Ha, Amynter! was it
instinct or prophesie in thee, to say my Lord
was come?

Alt.
I know not, I'm sure I meant it for a lye;
and if it shud prove true now, what shud I say,
but I've good luck with lying.

Er.
Amynter, to me who never joy'd
since Cleander went, 'tis twylight
of joy to see you;
and such a promise of seeing Cleander here,
as is Aurora of seeing the day:
and where is he, I see him not?

Am.
Madam, he sends you
all health and happiness,
with the assurance he'l shortly be here.

Er.
Shortly! how shortly? all time
seems too long,
an hour a day, a day a year,
a week an age, until I see him; and
there is no health nor happiness for me
without him.

Clea.
Dissembler.

(Aside.
Am.
Mean time by these
he kisses your fair hands, and by me presents
you with this Ethiope here, Embleme of his
affection, whose colour can never change.

Er.
And I'le keep him as embleme of mine,
what qualities has he?

Am.
A more trusty servant
no where lives then he, more valiant, nor more
intelligent, although both deaf and dumb.

Er.
What means he now?
you understand his signs.

Am.
With all humility he dedicates
himself and service t'ye,
and vows perpetual faith.

He bows, kisses his hands, and lifts them up to heaven.
Er.
And now!

Am.
He solemnly protests
he'l fight and dye for you.

He draws his sword, in action of fighting, then sets it to his breast.
Er.
A goodly personage,—
but let me read my Letters,

Alt.
Hum! deaf and dumb!
pretty qualities to sit in the chimney corner:
let's see for's dumbness, I like that well enough,
he wo'nt tell tales; and for his deafness too,
'tis no great matter, men naturally understand
what women wod have them do;
were he blinde too,
he'd make the better husband, onely I like not
his colour: But for that all men are black
in the dark, and I may chance to try him one
of these nights.

Cli.
And art not thou glad now
my Lord is coming home?

Cleo.
Why shud we be glad fool? we
shall be onely Clinias and Cleobulo,
a couple of poor slaves still; but what a fellow
servant has he sent us here? both deaf & dumb!
what shall we do with him?

Cli.
Why, we'l be sure
to put all th'work of the house upon him, let
him put it off again as well as he can;
best is we may use him as we list,
he can't complain of us.

Cleo.
But is he not
too gallant to work do'st think?

Cli.
We'l make him do it,
for all his Gallantry.

Cle.
D'ye think he'l suffer it?
he seems a sturdy piece.

Cli.
We'l make him suffer it too,
for all his sturdiness, I'le warrant you.

Cleo.
Content then

Er.
How's this? he writes me here,
he'd have me quit my sadness and solitude,
and be more free and courtly. If this be his
pleasure, he has strangely chang'd his minde;
but I am all obedience, and am
not to dispute but to obey his will:
and how has he his health well?

Am.
Passing well.
all his malady is onely want of you.

Er.
And why is he not his own Physician then?
no wounds I hope?

Am.
None dangerous, all he had
are now converted to honourable scars.

Er.
But that I fear to trouble you with my questions,
I shud never cease questioning you.

Alt.
Madam the Duke.

Cleo.
Now, now.

Scena, 3.

The Duke, Erminia, Cleander, Amynter, the rest retire.
Am.
I will observe them.

stands conceal'd
Du.
why now the clouds of sadnes ar overblown
y'appear like your self the bright Erminia:
So beauty shud appear, chearful and gay,
nature's best ornament, onely the wise
know how to wear, the foolish mar ith' wearing.
And now y'ave elevated again your fair
and long dejected eyes, with hope to see
Cleander shortly here; whilst you cast
them every wayes about to look for him,
I hope a glance at least may light on me.

Er.
Your Highness is not to be look't upon
to slightly.

Clea.
Now, now it begins,

Er.
I look upon you
as my Sovereign Lord and Prince.

Duk.
That's at too great a distance, look on me
as one who admires and honours you, and
your lover rather.

Clea.
I, there 'tis.

Er.
That my Lord
were too great presumption,
and no less impudence, in one already married.

Cleo.
She cunningly
holds off to draw him on.

Duk.
Think not of that:
marriage of its self is a tye strait enough,
we need not straiten it more
with superfluous nicety;
but let's talk no more of it,—
I've somewhat to say in private t'ye, but send
that Slave away.

Er.
He's both deaf and dumb my Lord,
and's presence can be no hinderance
to what you have to say,

Duk.
But he can see though;
and 'tis not fit what we do in private shud
be seen by every one.

Er.
'Tis fit for those
have care of their fames and honors; and for me,
I will do nothing but what I car'd not, though all
the world did see.

Clea.
I like that answer well,
'tis discreet and modest.—
If I shud be deceiv'd in her,
never was man more glad
to finde his hopes true,
then I shud be to finde my fears were false.

Duk.
You talk of honor, know Princes are
the fountains of it; and there's none but what
do's flow from them, all's honourable they do,
so is my love.

Er.
“Nothing is honourable,
“that is not vertuous too;
make your love so then;
else you might as well
call Vice, Vertue; and Hell, Heaven;
as Lust, Love; and Dishonor, Honor; as you do.
Know my Lord, the acts
of marriage are such, as matrimony it self
(holy as it is) can scarcely make
honourable and lawful; but imagine how
dishonourable and unlawful they must needs be
without it then.

Clea.
What a wretch and villain I was
ever to suspect her?

Duk.
Come you think you do a high
act of justice now, to be true unto Cleander;
but alas you are deceiv'd, justice consists
in equality, and equality there's none;
you shud be true to him, that's false to you.

Er.
Shud any but your Highness tell me so,
I'd say he lyed, most basely lyed:
Cleander false?
the Gods, Truth it self
wod as soon be false as he.

Clea.
My own dear dear wife.

Duke.
Ha, ha, ha, I pitty you,
to see you so abus'd, and to disabuse you; know
Cleander has another Mistris in Attica
he warms with's embraces, whilst Erminia
in her cold bed freezes here:
why shud he tarry so long away else think you,
the wars now at an end?

Er.
And is that all
your argument? how ill you argue Sir,
as if gold by th'touchstone shud be rendred false,
or men guilty by tiral of their innocence:
absence is the onely touchstone
and trial of our loves;
in it we but repeat by heart
that lesson, which in presence we learn't before.
And as in presence of those we love
we are all eyes, so in absence we
are all thought of them; as I
am of Cleander,
and I'm sure he is of me.

Clea.
My dearest dearest wife still.

Er.
And was it for this you sent him to the wars.
to overthrow your enemies abroad,
at price thus of my overthrow at home?
he's much oblig'd t'ye sure, and now I see
'twas not to honour him, but dishonour me.

Duk.
This will not do,
I must try some other way.—
(Aside.
Come, I wod not force what I might obtain
by gentleness.

Er.
You wod not? you cannot Sir;—
talk to me of force! shud you but offer it,
I'd sooner kill my self then suffer it:
Draws her knife.
unhand me as you love my life my Lord,
as you love your own life do; do you not see
him look there as he'd kill you presently,
lest you desist.

Duke.
Ha! the villain looks
terribly indeed, and I'm afeard of him:
Gods and fiends I think conspire
to defend her from me, and hinder my pursuit,
I'm resolv'd yet to go on, spight of them.—
Farewell, your Bravo
ha's sav'd you this once, make much of him,
but I shall finde a time.—

(Exit.
Er.
Althea, where's
this woman?

(Enter Althea.
Alth.
Here Madam.

Er.
And why not here?
you must be alwayes leaving me alone;
either wait closer, or I shall provide me of those
who will.

Alth.
Pardon me Madam, when
a Lord and Lady are together, 'tis
good manners in the waiting-woman, and part
of their breeding (I take it) to leave them alone.

Er.
Is't so?
go too, y'are grown so impudent of late,
(whatsoere's the matter) y'are quite mar'd agen;
or mend it, or you and I must part,—
look to't.

(Exit.
Alt.
I, say you so?
then 'tis time to look to't indeed.

(Exit.

Scena, 4.

Cleander, Amynter.
Cle.
O friend was ever man more happy in
a wife then I am in Erminia?
didst observe (for thou heardst all I know)
how she answer'd the Duke?
how she confounded him?
and made even impudence it self to blush,
whilst chastity like a Phenix burnt in her eyes
with anger and indignation at
his unchast purposes, & darted lightning at him.
Oh ye Gods! Erminia is as white I see
as is her name or innocence it self,
and I'm o'rejoy'd with it.

Am.
I joy y'ave found her so.

Clea.
You wod not have had me jealous now,
and see what's come on't, without my jealousie
I'd never known thus much.

Am.
I am most glad
y'ave so good issue of it, and that jealousie
its parent's dead that gave it life;
and what will ye do now?

Cle.
What! but instantly
cast off my disguize, and discover me unto her—
but stay! who's this? more visitants!

Scena 5.

Aurindo meeting Althea, Cleander, Amynter.
Am.
Althea, happily
incountred, I was just seeking you.

Al.
And I'm
glad of it, for I was just thinking on you;
and see how ones thoughts will come to pass!
well what's your business? whatsoe're it be,
y'are like to speed, I can tell you that.

Au.
Take heed Althea.
that whatsoever has a large extent,
and she who promises that denies nothing, not
so much as her self.

Alt.
Well concluded I promise you,
y'ave study'd Grammer and Logick too I see,
and want not Rhetorick neither for a need
I'le warrant you.

Au.
Indeed and I have need
to use my Rhetorick; please you to help me but
to speech of your Lady.

Alt.
Marry come up here,
no wonder indeed y'are grown so dainty!
will no body but my Lady serve your turn?
am not I good enough for you I pray?
she's for your Master, wod you shud well know.

Au.
And 'tis from him I desire to speak with her
who recommends him to you by this jewel.

Al.
A noble Prince he is, I'le say that for him,
and bounteous and liberal withall,
y'ave few such Princes now adayes: he was
in a great fright (so were we all) when he
was last with my Lady.—Well, did my Lord
but know how I labour for him.—

Clea.
He knows it, and
thou shalt know he does too.

(Aside.
Au.
Well hark then!

Clea.
Hell and confusion! d'ye hear
how she'as been visited? I'm just like a marriner
newly escap't one storm, and even arriv'd
unto the port, when by another, he's
driven to sea again, in greater danger then ever
he was before: the Prince visit her,
and handsome boyes? to be rid of my jealousie,
O th'Duke is nothing; for what avails it one
h'as many thorns prick him, for easing of his pain
to have one pluckt out, and all the rest remain.—
I'm as jealous as e're I was before.

(Exit.
Al.
Well, though my Lady be in ill humor now,
and very stanch of her visits (as they say)
for the Princes sake yet, I'le try what I can do;
and for your self, though I've partly made a vow
never to marry, I know not yet how I
shud be tempted, shud you offer to marry me.

Au.
But I'le never tempt you I'le promise you.
yet for my Lords sake I must humor her,
(Aside.
and dear Althea, for my part I promise you,
if ever I marry any woman it shall be you.

Alt.
That's some comfort yet,
I'de fain have somewhat in hand though,
to be doing with; but come I'le bring
you to my Lady.

Scena, 6.

The Dutchess Cleora, Althea after.
Duc.
And are you sure
he went to Erminia's?

Cle.
Sure Madam 'twas so appointed,
and Althea was to have the introducing him.

Duc.
Did I not tell you
he had some secret haunt?
I knew it I, there's no deceiving me.—
See this dissembling boy, you shall sooner finde
Spring without flowers,
and Autumn without fruit,
then without loving thoughts, a youthful minde,
'tis the proper fruit, and flowers of the season.

Enter Althea.
Al.
So I have brought him to my Lady,
who was nothing nigh so much offended and
surpriz'd with it as I imagined.—
Who's here the Duchess?

Duc.
And Althea too
must be their Bawd! that old Hag, that Witch,
go seek her out, and bring her hither strait;
if she conceal their secret meetings,
tortures shall inforce it from her.

Alt.
Ha! she has heard
it seems of the Dukes visiting my Lady,
I'd best confess it e're she put me to the torture;
I'm melancholly enough to lye in bed alone,
and apprehend this lying on the rack
a far more melancholly business; besides
I know not how my bones
will hold out, beshrew me.

Cleo.
She's here Madam.

Al.
Indeed I must confess,
speak this trembling.
and't like your Highness he visits my Lady sometimes.

Duc.
Oh do's he so!

Alt.
But I can't help it,
there's no keeping him out.

Duc.
Is he so hot upon it?

Alt.
But this I can assure your Highness,
'tis much against my will
and against my Ladies too.

Duc.
Worser and worser, I cod pardon him
to prefer her love to mine; but to prefer
even her neglect unto my love, is such
an indignity, such a neglect of me
I never shall forgive.

Scena, 7.

The Duke Anthenor, Duchess, &c.
Duke.
Gone after him d'ye say?

Ant.
I can assure your Highness,

Duke.
Why this is fine, very fine,—
but see she's here.

Duc.
I'm glad I've found his haunts yet, now I see
he goes to Erminia's still,
when he makes such haste from me.

Duke.
How comes she to know that?
I'de best make no secret then of what
she knows already, lest she suspect
some farther secret in't, more then she knows.—
Well, what if I visit Erminia sometimes?
'tis but to comfort her in her solitude
and sadness in her husbands absence.

Duc.
Ha!
this is a discovery I lookt not for;—
(Aside.
'tis well my Lord y'are very charitable
to other mens wives in their absence, & give me
example what to do when you are absent
with other womens husbands too;
and is this your going a hunting? I'm glad I faith
I know what Game it is you chase.

Exit.
Duke.
What have I done?
betray'd my self? this is this foolish conscience
makes us do such poor ignoble things,
a noble spirit wod be asham'd of;
she's gone inrag'd,
and rage that in petty bosoms, as winds
in narrow brooks, makes small commotion;
in mighty ones raises as fearful storms,
as boisterous winds in the vaste Ocean:
no matter, let her go, if Erminia's name
can raise a tempest, I have an exorcisme
of Aurindo's can allay it again;
nor will I desist—“the bold and resolute,
“when checkt and reprehended for their faults,
“grow more licentious, and devoid of shame,
“onely the weak and timerous refrain.

Exit.
manet Althea.
Al.
I'm glad she's gone, and I safe here, I was
in a terrible fright;—
for her calling me Bawd it never angred me,
it's no disgrace to a waiting woman; but
to call me old Hag!—

Scena, 8.

Erminia, Aurindo, Althea, Cleander, Amynter.
Er.
Prithy good boy no more,
pitty so much handsomeness, shud be
so unhandsomely imploy'd;
and so much good language and eloquence
cast away upon so bad a cause;
find out somewhat wherein I may do thee good,
and I shall gladly do it;
but I shud do thee harm,
to make thee complice of anothers ill.

Au.
She instructs me excellently, & her kindness
invites me to discover my self unto her;
& somewhat here bids me accept the invitation:
who knows? she may be so nobly generous
to help me in my love,
hinder me I'm sure she cannot.
I'le try, 'tis but my blushes lost,
and in a better cause I cannot lose my shame.—
Noblest of Ladies, whilst I discover t'ye
a secret you'l sooner wonder at, then believe,
to take from your wonder,
and adde to your belief,
be pleased to behold
this Portrait here.

Gives her her Portrait.
Er.
What's this?

Clea.
How! taking presents?
nay then sh'as sold her self,
and is no longer mine;
and whispering! womens shames
go always with their whispers: how close they ar,
as he were pouring out himself
into her ear, as she inclines her ear,
as she were careful nothing shud be lost:—
now h'as told her somewhat that tickles her;—
now she looks on's present, now on him agen,
as she were begetting babies in his eyes,
Preludiums, and images in little
of procreation. 'Tis good, 'tis very good,
I see you, but you see not the revenge
I'le take for it.

Er.
Is't possible!
comparing what I hear, with what I see,
I can no wayes doubt the truth of what you say;
I've seen your Portrait formerly, and wonder,
comparing it with you now,
I knew you not before.

Au.
You see Madam
how your sweet goodness has imboldned me
to the discovery of a secret to you
I shud have conceal'd
even from mine own bosom, if
it had been possible.

Er.
And I shall keep it as safe
as your own bosome,
sweet Cyrena assure your self.

Cle.
See, she even embraces him by heaven!

Au.
Beseech you Madam call me Aurindo still,
and shew some kindness to the Prince, when next
he visits you; lest he suspect I have
neglected his commands, and had more care
of mine own concern, then his.

Er.
For your sake I'le
do any thing, I may in honour do;
and I hope sweet friend e're long to let you see
you not deceiv'd your self, in trusting me.

Au.
Dearest Madam, my ravishment is so great,
my joy must needs burst forth
in some expression, or I shall burst my self:
here then before I go
I make a solemn league of friendship with ye,
and seal it with my breast.

They embrace, and depart severally.

Scena, 9.

The Duchess enters, and sees them embracing. Cleander Amynter.
Cl.
By heaven Ile kill them both.

offers to draw.
Am.
Fie fie, be more
advis'd and temperate.

Closes with him, and leads him out.
Duc.
Unparallel'd impudence!
embrace in publique! the very action
of coupling! no strumpet lost to shame
and abandoned to infamy, wod e're have don't:
I burn no less with rage and jealousie,
then they with lust; and the fire of my love
is quite extinguisht by't, as greater fires
extinguish lesser ones.
I'le be reveng'd on both,
for her I now do loath her
worse then a Toad or Snake;
and for him, ungrateful as he is, I'le let him see
since he wod not have me for a friend,
what 'tis to have me for an enemy.