 | The Vestal-Virgin |  |
ACT. IV.
SCEN. I.
Enter Mutius, and Verginia.Mut.
Still weeping Madam? these are unkinde tears,
Love is ill paid with sorrow, or with fears.
Ver.
If Love's ill paid with Grief, it needs must be
As ill exprest by signs of cruelty.
Mut.
Is it a cruelty to my soul exprest,
Because I keep it pris'ner in my breast?
Ver.
Not while 'tis willing, but it wou'd be so
Had it as much desire as I to go.
Mut.
Since life and you in me bear equal sway,
Be not less willing then my life to stay.
Ver.
If bondage only does express you kinde,
Why does the stranger such harsh usage finde?
Can you pretend that the same act should be
Cruel to him, and yet so kinde to me?
210
O my vex'd soul! how true my fears do prove!
Love betrayes me, and she betrayes her love.
[aside.
I'le try her yet—Shou'd I not seem to be
In all things kinde, to set this Stranger free?
Ver.
Alas, what shall I say!—I think you were,
He offers all I wish, and all I fear.
[aside.
Mut.
How brightly her betraying blushes move,
And seem a glorious Traitor to her Love!
[aside.
Ver.
Sure when he has his freedom he'l be gone.
[aside.
Shou'd I beg his that am deny'd my own?
Mut.
You need not now your pow'r or tears employ,
The stranger does his liberty enjoy.
Ver.
But is he gone already? can it be?
Mut.
What, are you troubled at his liberty?
Ver.
Did he not ask to see me e're he went?
Mut.
He say'd not much: I know not what he meant.
Ver.
Perhaps you did refuse that small request?
Mut.
I cou'd not grant that which he ne're exprest.
Ver.
Why, did I owe my safety to his aid?
O kindeness ill bestow'd, but worse repay'd?
Mut.
Thou hast betray'd thy self, the Lovers part
I'le act henceforward with a Souldiers heart.
Ver.
Alas, what do you mean, what tempests rise?
The gathering Storms lie rowling in your eyes.
Mut.
I blush that I have been so calm and tame;
Conquests in Love and War are but the same;
Both reach'd by boldest hands, and Fools alone
Thank Fate or you for that which is their own.
Ver.
Alas, what have I done?
Mut.
—How cou'd you be
So foolish to think I had set him free?
I quickly found he was too fortunate:
You may cheat those you love, not those you hate.
Ver.
O be more gentle.
Mut.
—Yes, when you are kinde.
Ver.
Storms hardly will teach calmness to a minde.
Mut.
You rais'd the storm which shall his ruine prove,
And he shall owe his Fate unto your Love.
Ver.
Alas, 'tis your suspicion does engage
Your fury thus; this object of your rage
I never saw, till from the flames just now
He brought me forth, and gave me life to owe.
Mut.
What flames were those?
Ver.
—Those wretched flames which burn'd
My Fathers House, and all to ashes turn'd.
Mut.
O happy, Hersilia's Sister!
How the kinde Fates still nearer Bonds provide,
For me, and for Sulpstius to be ti'd.
211
Are you not yet appeased? or can it be,
That gratitude shou'd cause such jealousie?
[walks musing, she after him.
In gentle mindes love takes the most delight;
Rough natures urge not passion, but affright.
Mut.
Come dry those gentle showrs, for there will be
No need of tears, unless to pitty me.
Ver.
Will you no more appear in such a rage?
Mut.
You need not fear the Storms you can asswage:
Teach me by your example, I shall prove
The aptest Scholler, when I'm taught by love:
—But I forget Sulpitius,—Whose there?
—Here—
[Enter 1.
Receive this Virgin with respect and care,
Safely till I return, and let her be
Obey'd by you that is ador'd by me.
Exit.
Ver.
I finde his jealousie has told him true,
And found my love sooner then I cou'd do;
What shall I say? which will the hardest prove,
To hide my hate, or to conceal my love?
How can I practise what I never knew?
And appear false, that so I might be true?
And yet if they shou'd take his life away—
Will none of these as well as I betray?
[looks on the men.
—Is your Captain gone, my friend?
1.
A little way.
Ver.
When will he return?
2.
That's uncertain.
Ver.
He was very kinde to me;
You know it best, with whom he left
Commands that were so civil.
2.
Yes, I think he did.
Ver.
I do believe there was no need;
Your natures wou'd have urg'd you to as much
As I shall beg.
2.
What does she mean?
Ver.
I have a small request.
2.
Well, what is't?
Ver.
Nay, do not ask me harshly;
A kindeness may be lessened by the manner.
2.
What the devil does she mean?
Ver.
How ruggedly they look.—
[aside.
Yet I shou'd take it well, nay, very kindely.
1.
'Slife how she tempts.—
[aside.
—Well, name it.
Ver.
'Tis only—If they shou'd deny me,
[aside.
I know you'l think it but a small request.
1.
Well, let's hear it.
Ver.
I wou'd see the stranger that was taken with me,
212
1.
We dare not do it.
Ver.
Your Captain said you shou'd obey me;
But I wou'd owe it to your Natures,
Rather then his commands.
2.
'Tis impossible to deny her.
Ver.
Yet I wou'd be grateful too; not to bribe,
But to reward your gentle natures.
1.
If we do not take the better care,
She'l make us think w'are honest too.
2.
We can easily convince her.
Ver.
Why d'you delay? pray make more haste to goodness;
Here, divide this between you.
[offers money.
1.
Do'st think we shall be able to deny her?
2.
'Tis impossible to deny her, and her money too:
Our Captain has a brave prize.
Ver.
Alas, I fear they will deny me:
Are you not yet resolv'd?—here, pray accept it.
1.
Well, for once we'l strain a point;
Come follow us, we'l bring ye to him:
But 'tis two to one whether he'l speak to you or no;
He's as sullen as a new taken Eagle.
Ver.
I'le venture that.
1.
My companion will guide you to the place;
Follow me slowly, for I must step before
And prepare those that guard him.
Ver.
I thank you, may you finde full rewards
In the success of all your just desires:
[Exit.
When shall the fears of mindes concern'd grow less
I tremble now at my own wisht success:
Courage in great distress can only aid,
But fear of what shou'd help will be afraid.
The Gods from passions might have made us free,
Or gave us only those which best agree;
For such as mine a wretched mingle prove,
The want of courage, and excess of love:
They were not jealous sure that we might be
By vertue rais'd too near Divinity;
For since within their pow'r dwells all our breath,
The distance is preserv'd enough by death.
[Exeunt.
The Scene a solitary Room.
Enter Artabaces out of it.
Art.
That I cou'd fly from every thought I have,
And lie as senseless in my life as grave:
I that had pow'r of thousand lives am thrown
213
[Lies down.
Why did the gods—
Make us so fit for Vice and Misery?
In goodness their immortal Chequers lye:
They might have given our Souls better Estates,
And set our Blessings at far cheaper rates.
Enter one of those that went from Verginia, with another Comrade that had the keeping of Artabaces.
1.
Come, come, here's that will conquer
Both thy Fears and Honesty.
2.
If Mutius shou'd return.
1.
Pish, he's engag'd to look Sulpitius;
Besides, he bid us to obey what she desir'd.
2.
Well, let's go to him; to tell thee true,
I pity him; 'tis a brave fellow.
1.
I cou'd pity too; but we are paid too well
To be good-natur'd;—prethee tell him
That one desires to speak with him.
2.
He's horrible surly.—Sir,—
D'hear Sir? there's one without desires to speak with you.
Art.
'Tis a question whether I'le speak with him or no.
2.
You must needs.
Art.
I am busie, Rascals.
1.
'Tis but a word, Sir.
Art.
I will not waste half a one, Slaves, for you.
2.
Fetch her in man; he'l ne're be perswaded.
[Exit 1.
Art.
What d'you stay for, gentle Sir?
D'you suppose your Company is pleasant?
2.
You'l be made tamer.
[Starts up.
Art.
Yes, thus Rascals.
2.
'Twere a just act to take away your life,
It troubles you.
Art.
Prethee do me but that curtesie; if not,
Lend me the Sword, and see how kind I'le be.
2.
He does amaze me.
Enter Verginia and 1.
Ver.
Hold, hold; what's this? why a Sword drawn?
2.
This madman wou'd provoke his death.
Ver.
Pray hold, you do mistake:—does he not Sir?
2.
How he stares on her!
1.
And how his fury slides away!—Sir—
—The Lady—Sir—
Art.
Peace, Slaves.—I was considering.
[Stamps.
2.
What, Sir?
214
That, Rascal.
[Strikes him; the Fellow offers to draw.
Ver.
Pray hold; here, take more; pray hold:
For my sake, Sir, be gentle.
Art.
I have done.
Ver.
Pray be gone; you do disturb him.
[Exeunt.
Why are your furious eyes so fix'd on me?
I do confess I caus'd your misery.
Propose your own revenge, and my just heart
Against the life it feeds, will take your part.
Art.
Alas, if your just heart so kind can prove,
To share in Griefs, teach it to share in Love.
Ver.
'Tis you must teach my heart what it shou'd do;
'Tis aptest to learn any thing from you.
Art.
Love's hardly to be taught, easie to have;
'Tis strange you shou'd not know the thing you gave.
Ver.
Though what I gave perhaps I do not know,
Sure I shou'd understand what you bestow.
Art.
Fortune, alas, has taken all from me;
Love seldom is the guift of Misery.
Ver.
You said Pity was Love, and then 'twill prove
Misfortunes that give Pity may give Love.
Art.
A common Pity does not Love express;
Pity is Love when grown into excess.
Ver.
If that be all, Love is not taught I see;
For before you cou'd speak 'twas learn'd by me.
Sure Nature's Laws are above Heavens got;
Love need not, though Religion must be taught.
Art.
O speak again; the breath that tells your Love
Approaches like the gentle Winds that move
Over the tops of fragrant flow'rs, and brings
To the blest Sense their Souls upon their wings.
Vir.
Alas, I have said somthing which I fear
Had such a sound a Virgin shou'd not hear;
My Spark's too quickly shot into a Flame;
To own my Love I seem to quit my Shame;
And yet it is not lost, but chang'd in me;
For Shame refin'd grows into Modesty.
Art.
O do not teach your Love a common way;
Loves power is small, unless it can betray.
Ver.
You'l then confess y'ave pow'r enough in me,
If for your sake I'me pleas'd with Treachery.
But tales of Love make us forget our woes;
A sudden fear upon my spirit grows,
Like people that tell tales of Ghosts at night,
So long till they are talk'd into a fright.
Art.
Such phancies, from no real cause, will prove
But dreams, that hinder the repose of Love.
Ver.
You call my phancies dreams; but if they are,
215
Think I am sleeping when you see me sad,
And when I wake I'le tell what dreams I had.
Enter Mutius suddenly.
Mut.
I cannot find Sulpitius; all's in an uproar.
—Ha!—
What sight is this, at which my stiffened hair
Starts from their shaken roots! I shou'd not stare
So frightened, had I met every Ghost
Started from Hell which Roman Conquests boast.
Ver.
Ah me! what storm is falling on us now?
Art.
No Thunder dwells upon a humane brow.
Mut.
Yes, you shall feel the Thunder that you slight:
It shews more pow'r to ruine than to fright.
Art.
Vain slighted Villain.
Ver.
—Pray let me speak;
Perhaps he'l least resist what is most weak:
Pray be not angry; did you not engage
That I shou'd never see you in a rage?
Mut.
You Pow'rs, what an ungrateful confidence
This Woman hides with painted Innocence!
Art.
Wou'dst thou have thanks for want of liberty?
Which way is gratitude grown due to thee?
Mut.
While thou dost speak 'tis with ingrateful breath,
Which I cou'd stifle if I wou'd in death.
Art.
Prethee then do.—
Ver.
—Cannot my tears incline?
Will you provoke your ruine, perhaps mine?
Art.
I've done; and though death's business I despise,
Yet when you talk that it may close your eyes,
This too fond heart of mine, that did not fail
At death in gross, shrinks now at the retail.
Mut.
Come, have ye done? I long till I remove
With him thy hopes, if not destroy thy love.
Ver.
Hold, hold, your passion guides you to mistake;
Alas, 'tis the wrong life that you wou'd take.
Mut.
My just revenge is this way best express'd,
To take that life away which you love best.
Ver.
Yet hear me speak; Had I no life to pay
To Nature, wou'd you then take his away?
Mut. studies.
How plain it is, if death to him you give,
The reason only is because I live?
Art.
Do not on my loath'd life set such a rate;
It is unkind to plead for what I hate.
Mut.
One thing may save all yet;
If you will swear by all that you adore
216
Ver.
What shall I do? I fear that this may be
An easie Oath for him, though not for me.
Art.
—Then hear me swear.
Ver.
—Alas, I thought 'twou'd prove
My fears wou'd be far truer then his love.
Art.
By all that's good, thus, in this blest amaze,
I wou'd for ever on this object gaze.
Mut.
They trifle with my rage. Without there, ho.
Enter one or two.
Here Take 'um away.
—Hold—be gone with her, but let him stay.
—Now Sir,
Once more I ask you, will you swear?
You'd best consult with wisdom, and with fear.
Art.
Let fear upon the prosp'rous hearts take hold,
Cowards themselves in miseries grow bold.
Mut.
Fortune by me now offers to be kinde.
Art.
And raise me on the ruines of my minde;
Though I am sunk, my honor keeps above.
Mut.
'Tis not thy Honor urges, but thy love.
Art.
Those are the same. Poor frighted men at Sea,
To save their lives cast all their goods away.
In storms of Fortune, where there is a strife
Which shall be sav'd man's honor, or his life,
Who wou'd preserve this tottered Bark from fate,
But sink the Vessel to preserve the freight?
Mut.
I'le shake thy stubborn spirit, while I feed
Thy life with tortures, death shall death exceed.
Art.
Life may be less then life, as it does waste;
But death cannot be more then death at last.
Mut.
Who's there?
Enser one or two.
—Here—
Take him away, and shut him up from light,
Let him see nothing but death's image, Night.
Art.
Thou canst not reach the light that I shall find;
A generous soul is Sun-shine to the minde.
Mut.
Be gone,
In the least tittle he that disobeyes,
His own neglect his wretched life betrayes.
[Ex. with Art.
Manet Mutius.
In what encrease of Tempests I am tost,
217
Now every way to me unsafe appears,
Reason has left the Helm, and Love now steers:
Yet one trick more I am resolv'd to try;
Loves wisdom is compos'd of treachery.
—Ho—Corbulo.
Enter Corbulo.
Cor.
Your pleasure Sir?
Mut.
Fetch Verginia hither,
And send Titus to spy abroad,
And bring what news he can; however
Let him not stay, for I intend at his return
To look my self after Sulpitius.
Cor.
I will Sir.
[Exit.
Mut.
This fellow fits my humor;
Like flies he feeds upon the foulest things,
And to the rugged'st places fastest clings.
—But—I forget my business, I must now
With all that's gentle smooth a rugged brow,
And tempt her with feign'd goodness to believe;
The shape of vertue still can best deceive.
Those that in faithless Oceans take their way
Sink in the Storms, but 'tis the Calms betray.
Enter Corbulo with Verginia.
She comes.—Now leave us Corbulo,
But stay within my call.—
[Exit Corbulo.
Still drown'd in sorrow? sure my rage appears
As just, and far more gentle then your tears;
You fear the storms, yet make the tempests rise,
While you retain foul weather in your eyes.
Ver.
Tempests by show'rs sometimes are laid to peace.
Mut.
And when you weep for me my storms will cease.
Ver.
To shew my gratitude I shew my fears,
And poorly pay the debt of life with tears;
Secure me only this, that he shall live,
Or do not blame the sorrow that you give.
Mut.
Does not feign'd gratitude true passion hide?
But since only by this it can be tri'd,
Here in a sacred vow my self I tie,
By me, nor by my means he shall not dye.
Ver.
Now you are gentle,
And as in tears I paid to him his due,
Now with dry'd eyes I'le pay my thanks to you.
Mut.
Your gratitude might finde a better way,
218
'Tis the same Oath which he has took before,
To avoid ever seeing of him more.
Ver.
If he has swore, alas, what need I swear?
A Vow shou'd be as gentle as a Pray'r.
Mut.
Can Pray'rs to all alike so gentle be,
Since all the worlds devotions disagree?
None beg the same, the pray'rs of all the best
Are little more then curses for the rest.
Enter Corbulo.
—How now—
Cor.
Titus is return'd Sir, and sayes there is most noise
By Numa's Grove; another joyn'd to him
To scout on either side might bring you full intelligence.
Mut.
No, I will go my self—In the mean time
Think gentlest maid how little I deny;
Whoever you command must live or dye.
[Ex. with Ver.
—Corbulo—Come back.—
I have a business that I dare commit
Unto no care but thine.—Give out that I am gone,
And with a shew of pitty offer Verginia
To bring her to the stranger; in the mean time
I'le place my self to over-hear their passions:
The business will be easie.
Corb.
If 'twere hard it were all one to me.
Mut.
Dispatch then my brave Corbulo,
And send Spurius along with Titus.
[Ex. Corbulo.
I will search out the secret of her heart,
And finde that passion which she hides with Art:
May be 'twas charity that fear'd his harm,
But charity does seldom shew so warm.
No, no, such deep concerns appear above,
All taught affections, 'tis unlessen'd love:
When this disease of jealousie can finde
A way to seize upon a crazy minde;
Most things instead of help or giving ease,
The humor feeds and turns to the disease.
[Exit.
Enter Marcellina.
—Hark—
I listen still for noise to be my guide,
And want, yet have too much on every side.
—O Sertorius!—
How I pursue, with what uncertainty!
Yet though I lose my way I follow thee:
Hurried along upon loves wings I move,
Pursuing Fate, and am pursu'd by love.
[Exit.
219
Sulp.
Be pleased to pardon me Madam,
I was enforced to lead you a by-way,
Something about; we are nearer a place of safety now.
Her.
I wou'd not censure, but this seems to be
A mingle between force and curtesie.
Sulp.
Since 'tis so hard to gain your clear belief,
I must be innocent, though it gives you grief.
Yet for your own sake do not wish to know,
Time is too hasty, and my tongue too slow:
Why shou'd his guilt and mischief blemish me?
Yet silence seems a vertuous treachery.
Her.
Why do you shew such struglings in your breast?
Sulp.
Nature and friendship are at a contest;
Know then, I wou'd you cou'd and I not tell,
That Tiridates by Sertorius fell:
You were the quarrel, and for you they strove
With equal courage, and with equal love;
Till fortune blinder now then ever prov'd,
And deny'd victory to what you lov'd.
Her.
Ha, Tiridates dead!
[weeps.
Sulp.
We have no time to talk, or to lament,
Lest we meet dangers which we shou'd prevent.
Her.
Alas, my griefs the greatest dangers are:
Who wou'd flye death that cannot flye despair?
Sul.
Sorrow deceives that bids you stay and die;
'Tis from Sertorius, not from death you flie;
Whose rage had blown it self to such a height,
It stopt not at th'unpappy Princes fate,
But presently your Fathers Pallace blaz'd
In circling flames which his revenge had rais'd,
As if 'twere just he shou'd the ruine prove
Of his own hopes, that had destroy'd your love.
Her.
Methinks my love looks mean in sorrow drest,
Sure 'twou'd shew greater by revenge exprest.
Sulp.
Though nothing of your heart you will resign
To me, let your revenge at least be mine.
Her.
O Tiridates!
I have condemn'd my self to dye, and grieve;
Revenge does only my short life reprieve.
Enter Sertorius.
Ha! the horrid monster comes; you pow'rs above,
Revenge at once death and an injur'd love.
Ser.
Have I o're-took you villain with your prize?
[draws.
220
There's none is overtook but he that flies.
Her.
Defend me now Sulpitius.
Sert.
—Ha, does Hersilia want such aid?
O heavens, her Virtue's lost, or she's betray'd;
I will not trifle out my cause with words.
Her.
Let my revenge and wrongs assist your Sword.
Ser.
What riddle's this? she courts his treachery,
Then through their deaths I thus make haste to dye.
[fights amongst 'um and kills one.
Enter Marcellina, takes up his Sword, and hurts another that is running at Sertorius; he turns, and she and he fight, and Marcellina kills him, and then falls her self: in the mean time Sulpitius and the rest wound Sertorius so, that they fall together.
Her.
What, do I see? Marcellina!
Mar.
Hersilia!
Sulp.
Come, we must not stay,
All is unsafe, and pity will betray.
[Sulpitius pulls her.
Sert.
Here my last words, have so much Charity;
My life was yours, but here 'tis just I dye;
I feel new fires, my ancient flames appease,
And I own health unto a new Disease.
Her.
Do'st thou not shrink at thy approaching fate?
Are all my sorrows, and his blood no weight?
Ser.
What sorrows do you wear, or what's my crime?
Sul.
We trifle out our safety with the time.
[pulls Hersilia
Her.
Stay—let me tell him.—
Sulp.
—'Tis in vain, away.
Sert.
That Villain does betray you.
Her.
—Hold, I will stay.
O Marcellina! O Tiridates!
Sert.
—What is the mystery?
Why do you call on them from whom you fly?
Her.
What does he say?
Sulp.
—He raves, no matter what.
Her.
I'le hear him speak.
Sul.
—Away, it is too late.—
[hurries her out, Exeunt.
Manet Sertorius and Marcellina.
Ser.
What can this mean?—farewel my unjust fires,
New warmth grows in me, though my life expires.
How slow I crawl? my love would make more haste.
But weakned Nature cannot move so fast.
221
How equal we are now in all our wounds?
O speak and tell me if you can forgive;
Or if that be too much, tell me you live.
Mar.
I wou'd deny you nothing; shou'd I say
I live, Life while I tell it steals away.
Be not concern'd; Death has the same event
By Nature call'd, or brought by accident.
Sert.
Do not so willingly your life resign;
Or if you must, let your Soul go with mine.
Mar.
It will go softly if it goes before,
And wait for yours where they shall part no more.
Sert.
And shall we thus know one another there?
Mar.
Else we shou'd want a blessing we have here.
Sert.
I feel Deaths shades creep upon Natures light;
O guide your hand to mine, 'tis almost night.
Mar.
Here, where is yours?
Sert.
—Searching to find yours out.
Mar.
Have it I now? weakness and love may doubt.
Hold fast,—farewel.—There's somthing—hides.
[dies.
Sert.
'Tis death, that kindly thus it self divides.
[dies.
Exit Act IV.
| The Vestal-Virgin | |