 | The Generall |  |
ACTUS SECUNDUS.
[Scene I.
The King's Camp.]Great shouts of Joy often repeated.
Enter Clorimun, Thrasolin, Cratoner, and Monasin.
Thras.
The Souldiers, Sr, in this excess of noise
Showes your returne brings them resembling Joyes.
They think, sr, since to you their love is great,
Nothing but what is such should tell you it.
Clor.
My Joys, like theirs, shou'd now have been sublime,
Had they not brought mee to them by a crime.
But since they cannot call back what is done,
They must for it make their submission.
This they shall doe the first of anything;
Then I will forthwith send it to the King.
Hee will perceive, that duty being paid,
I know by Armies how to be obey'd.
But where is Filadin? Hee us'd to bee
The formost of my freinds to visitt mee.
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And soe hee now had been, but hee went hence
Last night to give you some Intelligence,
Such as might soone give you the meanes to show
You merit the high trust you are in now.
Clor.
This makes his absence kindnesse, but since wee
Are now encamp'd soe neere the Enemy,
It were a sinn in sloth one houre to lye.
Is there noe way their Courages to try?
Thras.
Noe way at all; the place they Campe upon,
Though 'tis secur'd by natures helpe alone,
Yet round it dayly their new workes appeare.
Clor.
Then they ev'n in their safety show their feare.
Enter Filadin with a Guard, with Lucidor and Memnor Prisoners.
Ha! What is this? Memnor and Lucidor!
By what strange fortune are they in my pow'r?
Fil.
Sir, with a Party I went out to try
If I cou'd take some of the Enemy.
Neare to their Camp, where I lay hid last night,
These two by dawne of day did come to fight,
And Clatus; but when Lucidor did knowe
His Mistrisse brother was to serve his foe,
Hee vow'd he wou'd returne, unless that hee
A Common second to them both wou'd bee;
Protesting, if to that hee'd Condescend,
Hee wou'd noe longer wait for his owne freind,
Who, hee well knew, wou'd soone be in the feild.
This high Civilitie had longer held,
Had I not with my party thought it fitt
To show my selfe, which quickly ended it.
Clatus, the name of Quarter slighting still,
Wee thought it rude to save him gainst his will.
The selfe same way these two had also tooke,
Had not their swords, while they were fighting, broke.
Luc.
If Filadin had not us death deny'd,
And had not fortune too joyn'd on his side,
Wee shou'd not now (soe justly bonds we hate)
Have been the tame beholders of our fate.
Mem.
Fortune, not wee, shou'd for our losse be blam'd,
Which wee'l soe bravely beare, shee'l be asham'd;
And whilst her unjuste frownes wee suffer thus,
Wee'l triumph over her, not shee on Us.
Clor.
Brave Filadin, I'm thine Eternally!
[Imbraces Filadin.
Lead Memnor to my tent—hee bleeds, I see—
And bid my Chyrurgions that care on him show
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Noe other Prison but your word I crave.
Mem.
That is the strongest Prison I can have.
Clor.
Yet that the easiest is in my Power.
All leave the tent but only Lucidor.
Fil.
Lett us three then retire into my tent,
And there letts have a little merriment.
[Exeunt. Manent Clor. and Luc.
Clor.
Mee thinks a Sadnesse sitts upon your brow,
Which misbecomes one soe much lov'd as you.
Your Mistrisse Love to mee wou'd bring releife
In all the wounds of Fortune and of greife.
Luc.
If any Sadnesse in my face appeares,
It is not on my owne accompt, but her's;
That fortune shou'd be tyranous to him
Whome Altemera does not disesteeme.
Clor.
Rather lett Altemera see in this
Fortune, by much, the lesser goddesse is.
Had fate to place me in thy Joy thought fitt,
I wou'd doe nothing else but thinke on it.
Nay, even I my sleepe would not esteeme,
If I shou'd not reflect on't, while I dreame.
Luc.
Though you did this, and more, yet you'd doe lesse
Than I in prizing of that happinesse.
You show the low esteeme of it you hold
By thinking 'tis a blessing can be told.
Clor.
And yet, mee thinks, your present looke affords
That which but too much contradicts your words.
But tell mee, pray, does Altemera still
Enjoy the pow'r of conquering whome shee will?
Luc.
Shee does, and her bright Eyes still shoot such fire,
All want the pow'r to shunne it, as desire;
Her beauties to behold and not to Love,
A wonder, great as they themselves, wou'd prove.
In all things else, 'tis Ignorance alone
Hinders our making their discription,
But, in this case, her beauties such are growne,
Knowledge is lost in admiration.
Clor.
Great Gods, why are the Starrs fixt in such height
That wee can only see their beautious light,
And Altemera, with more lustre grac'd,
Within my Rivalls reach by you is plac'd?
Why was there soe much giv'n to her, and shee
Permitted too to give it all to thee?
But Lucidor, you bleed. Had I your wound
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What's deare by nature to her, I'de not owne
More than what's soe by Inclination.
Luc.
This scratch, which you call wound, you much miscall.
'Tis my great trouble that it is soe small.
Clor.
You to my admiration alwaies are
Speakeing the dismall language of dispaire,
Which Altemera's power seems to decline.
At least I shou'd thinke soe, were thy fate mine.
[Exeunt.
[Scene II.
Filadin's Tent in the King's Camp.]Enter Filadin, Monasin, and Cratoner.
Fil.
Lett us then of our mistresses discourse.
Mon.
You could not name a subject pleas'd mee worse.
Yes, I must hate them, for they have their Eyes
To move them still the handsome men to prize.
They have their Eares too in their numerous fits
To make them Love and doat upon the witts.
They have their fancies too, I my selfe know itt,
To make them love th'inventions of the Poett.
Nay, were all these Center'd in one, they then
Have their inconstancy to love all men.
Fil.
That which in them thou as a Vice doest grant
Is what I'de quarrel with them, did they want.
Their ficklenesse I thinke a virtue rare.
Long none I keepe, nor of none long dispaire.
In mee a greater trouble it wou'd breed,
If they still lov'd than if they never did.
Their kindnesse cannot be a Joy soe high,
As afterwards is their Inconstancie.
Such quitting mee is what I most esteeme.
They doe to mee what I wou'd doe to them.
Their Change for new Amours a way does make,
Ridds mee of her I tooke, brings her I'de take.
But if these truths, which I to thee have said,
Doe want the pow'r thy reason to persuade,
And that thou yet will to fix weomen try,
Which harder is than to fix mercury,
Then marry.
Mon.
Marry! that, all wise men say,
Is to unfix them the most certaine way!
Experience showes that Women are much more
Unfixt after their marriage than before.
All ties in Love but Love, that power doe want,
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Crat.
Marry! that is needlesse, for if Love Comands
Their hearts to Joyne, they need noe nuptiall bands,
And if Love does not, those will hold them ill.
They are or needlesse or weake fetters still,
Things which but fright such as want witt to see
They are noe substance but a mysterie.
Mon.
An Art found out by ugly men, or old,
Who, wanting naturall Charmes to take and hold
The young and handsome, by constraint did fail
To find out bands are artificiall.
Fil.
My worthy and good freinds, pray spare your paines!
I loath soe perfectly those horrid Chaines
That I had rather much you two to see
Thrice married than that once you shou'd see mee.
Crat.
Wee thanke you, Sir, but yet it has been said
You lately were faire Calanns to wedd.
Fil.
Because a man was nere being hang'd, is't fitt
To thinke that therefore he was pleas'd with itt?
Come! thinke on Daphnis.
Mon.
Shee's a witt, reads books,
And her words are more hansome than her looks.
That woman's brought to an unhappy passe
When that her tongue is the best part shee has.
I thinke to praise a Taverne is as fitt,
For having Water, as a Woman, Witt.
They doubtlesse shou'd with other charmes be grac'd.
I grant the thing is good, but there misplac'd.
Think on Amanta, shee is very rich.
Crat.
Her Gold may charme, her Eyes will ne'er bewitch!
Faith! shee's not old enough, for I esteeme
A womans midle age her worst extreame.
In every season else wish has some scope;
In Youth ther's certainty, in age ther's hope.
Shee's old enough ugly to be, I knowe;
And young enough too long to live soe too.
And to discribe her truly, that wc h frights
Is much more vissible than what invites.
Her wealth I love, her lookes that Love destroy.
The grapes are painted worse than is the boy.
Thinke then on Cloris, who does Lovely owne
A Maids cheife beautie is discretion.
Mon.
She vainly hopes her Lovers to persuade
By her discretion, now her beauties fade.
Love ugly Women makes discreet, I knowe,
Or rather uglinesse does make men soe.
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To make it tenable, it needs not Arts.
Thinke on Calione, shee's wondrous faire,
And carries in her face a Conquering ayre.
Fil.
Prethee, noe further in her praise proceed,
For on that aire shee'd have her servants feed.
My Love with that thinn diett shee did treate,
And when I begg'd some more substantiall meate,
The very naming it shee scarce endur'd;
Soe Love like agues was by starving cur'd.
Shee's a Platonick or at least a foole.
I prais'd her body, and shee prais'd her soule.
Mon.
Thinkst thou that a Platonick is a foole?
Knowe 'tis the subtlest sect in Cupids schoole.
She who does once resigne mee up her soule
All feares to misse her body does controle,
And by it many a well meaning Maid
Has, as I know, her body oft betraid.
'Tis but a veile, suspitious men to blind.
None feares to be a Cuckold of the mind.
Thinke then on Flora, shee sings sweet and cleare.
Crat.
Love enters at the Eye, not at the Eare;
But I can Love none, for the faire are wonne
By too much time; the rest are gain'd too soone.
My stomack's nice, and if too long I'me cross'd
In what I'de tast, my appitite is lost.
I loath food needs much Cooking; if the meat
Were ready when I'de have it, I could eate.
Thinke on Arthiopa, for in her face
Sadnesse has soe much Empire and such Grace
That I cou'd never tell whether her sight
Did more forbidd my Passion, or invite.
Mon.
Alasse! my freind, I did discover soone
Shee by approaches only cou'd be wonn.
And you well knowe what I in Love performe
Is not by teadious seiges, but by storme.
Her Coynesse made mee all her sex abjure.
Where kindnesse is not, reason is my cure.
Fil.
Come! lett's be going, for I shrewdly feare,
If those wee talk'd of, our discourse shou'd heare,
Reason from them will this beliefe require,—
Where there is soe much smoke there is some fire.
Mon.
Since they will have us tell lyes to their face,
Yet, when their backs be turn'd, let truth take place.
The Common proverbe too wee else shou'd breake,
By which the loosers still have leave to speake.
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Thras.
Is this a time to spend in merryment
When thrice the Generall has for you sent?
I have at least this houre been round about
The Campe, endeavouring to find you out.
Crat.
You needed not have fetch'd soe long a walke.
This is our usuall place to meet and talke.
But doe you knowe what 'tis we are to doe?
Thras.
I guesse, but knowe not if my guesse be true.
Soone after from the Generall you went,
There came one in disguise into his tent,
Who to him some Intelligence did give
From Mora, where his Mistresse now does live.
I saw him very Joyfull at the News,
And after on it hee a while did muse,
Hee with some Earnistnesse Commanded mee
To call all you to him imediatly.
Mon.
If this be the designe, who ever goes
For hop'd for honour will have certaine Blowes.
Our Generall will lead on like a Sprite,
When he does both for Love and honour fight.
Fil.
Good Man, he but for one wench fights, but when
Wee take the place, each of Us will have tenn!
When townes are conquer'd by the force of Warre,
Walls first are storm'd and then the Women are.
[Exeunt.
[Scene III.
The King's Camp.]Enter Clorimun and one of Altemera's Guards.
Clor.
What shall be thy Reward? Why, it shall be
Much more than thou thy selfe canst hope from mee!
But for thy owne, as well as for my sake,
Faile not in that thou now dost undertake.
Guard.
Sr, 'tis my nearest freind and I of late
Have left unto our Charge the posterne Gate,
Next to your Campe, where, if you are inclin'd
To storme the place, you shall admittance find.
But, Sr, your party must be very stronge,
For all which to our Garrison belong
Are of the Rebells force the very flower,
And chosen out as such by Lucidor.
Clor.
Though every Souldier now in Mora were
A Lucidor him selfe, I would not care.
I ne're saw those whom my sword did not fright,
When I for Glory or for Love did fight.
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Fighting for both, who can my arme withstand?
Enter Thrasolin, Filadin, Monasin, and Cratoner.
Comand out streight three thousand men dare goe
Where I their Generall their way will showe,
Men who their lives their owne will not esteeme,
When either fame, or I have need of them.
Lett them be all in Armes by fall of night.
The Glory of the attempt shall be my light.
Thras.
May you not, Sr, your enterprise reveale?
Clor.
It is on Mora where my fate does dwell.
Thras.
That place, Sr, is impregnable, I feare.
Clor.
Nothing is soe, butt the bright Beauty there.
Oh, would to heaven I only were as farre
Above all feares in love as feares in warre!
Successe shall now, where I intend to goe,
A greater Blessing than itt's selfe bestowe.
[Exeunt.
[Scene IV.
A Chamber in Altemera's Palace.]Enter Altemera and Candaces.
Alt.
Oh, my Candaces! I did still esteeme
That was a vision, which thou calls't a dreame,
And nothing made mee thinke the last itt was,
Butt, when I saw him to the Scaffold passe,
And there undauntedly to loose his head,
That fatall blow struck mee nott alsoe dead.
Cand.
Yor Greifs, I grant, are just for Lucidor,
Since hee is now within his Rivalls power,
Butt yett this, Madam, may your greifs subdue,—
As hee's his foe, soe hee's yor Lover too.
The name of Rivall threatens noe such ill,
Butt that of Lover is above itt still.
Alt.
Alas! Candaces, thou in this hast showne
The boundles power of Love thou ne'ere hast knowne!
Love is a passion still, and that's the cause
'Twill nott bee rul'd by reasons certaine Lawes.
Love is compos'd of riddles and excesse.
Oft 'twill doe more than reason, oftener lesse.
Hee that will freely dye att my Command
Will, in some cases, even my feares withstand,
And firmely thinkes hee does more love dispense
In his deniall, than obedience.
The Justice of those thinges wc h I approve,
Hee measures more by reason than by Love.
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Ah! Madam, thinke nott I a stranger am
To love, and onely know him butt by name;
Yett I have felt his power, and in such height,
All wounds besides, compar'd to mine, are slight.
Never did love till now inflict such woes.
I burne, butt dare nott my feirce flames disclose.
Alt.
Your case I pitty; therfore lett mee know
The persons name wc h has inflam'd you soe.
Perhaps my helpe may bringe you some releif,
And if nott cure, att least may ease your greif.
Cand.
Your helpe, I know, the powerfull'st will appeare,
Butt my case is above all helpe, I feare.
Alt.
May I nott doubt, since Love with soe much pow're
Invades yor heart, itt burnes for Lucidor?
Cand.
Were I a man, his fate, I must confesse,
I would imbrace as the first happinesse;
For even as I am, I never knew
What joy meant, till I gave my selfe to you;
And were I sure to have a larger part,
Than Lucidor possesses of yor heart,
To make that noblest Empire soe much mine,
I thinke I shou'd all other aimes decline.
Alt.
This flattering answer you returne to mee
Makes what was butt a doubt a certainty.
Blush nott that I to light this truth have brought.
Yor Love is a misfortune, nott a fault;
And how can I in you that passion blame,
When I too burne in that resistlesse flame?
Cand.
Thinke nott what I as a high truth did tell
Was an imagin'd passion to conceale.
Butt all yor Doubts intirely to remove,
I sweare that Lucidor I doe nott love,
And since I wou'd be first in yor Esteeme,
Hee being soe, I cannott sure love him.
I tell you who 'tis nott, and if I doe
E're tell who 'tis, itt shall bee first to you.
If you aske further, I must disobey.
Lett mee in silence mourne my life away.
Alt.
'Twere rudenesse then further to presse you now.
Butt tell mee, pray, since to Loves power you bow,
Wou'd you yor life, to save yor Lover, give?
Cand.
Wou'd I! more willingly than I would live!
Alt.
Butt could ought make you yor Loves hopes depose?
Cand.
A thousand lives I loose sooner than those;
And though faint hopes are all I can call mine,
Yett for a world those hopes I'de nott decline.
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Judge then, Candaces, by what now you say,
If Clorimun will my desire obey.
Cand.
Ah, give mee leave to say itt is a crime
To thinke that any passion equalls mine.
In such a way love does my brest inspire,
Other loves are butt warmth, butt mine a fire.
Butt 'tis a fire soe pleasing and soe high,
That, Martyr like, I triumph while I die.
[Weepes.
A hott Alarum. One cries out within:
“Arme, Arme, Arme, the sally port is won,
And the fierce Enemy is in the Towne.”
Alt.
Alas! Candaces, what noise is't I heare,
Which does my trembling heart wound through my eare?
Enter a page hastily.
Page.
Fly, Madam, Fly, or else you are undone;
The Towne is now possesst by Clorimun.
In vaine yor Souldiers have his armes withstood;
Dead bodies pave the Streetes, wc h run with bloud.
Hundreds have from his sword receiv'd their fates,
And hee is now entring yor palace gates.
Alt.
Great Gods, what sins are Lucidor's and mine,
Which makes you to us both such fates assigne?
Butt you are just, and therfore I'le nott feare
You'le lay on us above what wee can beare.
A Noyse att the Doore and Clorimun speaking to his Officers.
Clor.
Your valeurs wages the whole Towne shall bee,
Butt heere resides shee that's ador'd by mee.
Lett noe rude feete presume to enter heere,
And lett noe dying cries offend her eare.
Enter Clorimun with his sword bloody.
Pardon mee, Altemera, that I dare,
Before your innocence, guilt's livery weare.
And yett that sin you needes must thinke itt lesse,
Than by itt I enjoy of happinesse.
Since fate did mee soe longe from you divorce,
Itt did provoke mee to make use of force.
This action you shou'd nott condemne, butt prize,
Since 'tis th'effect of your triumphant eyes.
Alt.
You raise mee only to a higher State,
Therby your owne sin to extenuate.
Those Gods wc h wee adore have never sent
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Butt those sad cryes, wc h in my eares still sound,
By sympathy much worse than death doe wound.
Clor.
I have already orders sent to sheath
The souldiers swords on paine of instant death,
And to acquaint the living that they owe
Only to yor commands their being soe.
Butt, Madam, is itt just that you shou'd shed
Such pretious showers for those that are butt dead,
And that my case, which does much worse appeare,
Cannott, to give itt ease, obtaine one teare?
Those which are kill'd are from all ills releast,
And from their Troubles are redeem'd to rest,
Butt my deepe miseries know noe Reprieve.
A thousand deaths I die and yett still live.
My waking thoughts my paine still freshe does keepe,
Nor are my dreames lesse torturing when I sleepe.
Joy does your Clorimun soe dissesteeme,
Hee cannott tast itt though butt in a dreame.
Alt.
In common sufferinges there is some releif
In teares, the common Evidence of greif;
But, cou'd you see within my brest, you'd finde
Your sufferinges have the sorrow of my minde,
Which rather shou'd induce you to deplore
What I now beare, than load mee yett with more.
The grossest thinges our senses entertaine;
The most refin'd, invisible remaine.
Clor.
Yett, Madam, love still takes delight to give,
By publique actinges, proofs that itt does live.
To the blest person wc h your Love does sway
You wou'd nott practice that which now you say.
That is weake love, by all 'twill bee confest,
Which can bee still confin'd within the brest,
And ever in surprizes is soe aw'de
That itt does courage want to looke abroad.
A perfect flame all thinges does gett above;
Reason itt rules, or turnes itt into love.
'Tis absolute, what ever itt will doe,
Butt that itt never can itt self subdue.
Butt I misspend this pretious time, I see,
In teaching Love to her, that taught itt mee.
Alt.
From that Truth, Clorimun, confesse I know
More of Loves power and actinges than you doe.
Were love Corporeall, doubtlesse then the breast
Wou'd bee too small, to lodge soe great a Guest.
Acting is nott itt's naturall agree;
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That friendshipp I on Clorimun bestow
Is as neare love, as ought that is nott soe.
And that itt is nott love, I had nott knowne,
Butt that my heart I can butt give to one.
Clor.
Cruell as faire, my flame thus to deride,
Cou'd you have found noe other way beside
To tell mee how much you on mee bestow,
Butt how much more 'tis you have giv'n my foe?
Spight of yor scorne, yor beauties I'le adore.
'Tis past my power to love you lesse or more.
Butt from yor vast disdaine this good I'le gett,
Fully to prove my love as vaster yett.
I'le Court you soe, that I att length will prove
You're mine by right, and onely his by Love.
Enter Thrasolin.
Thras.
Gesippus, Sr, is come post from the Kinge,
And does such pressing orders to you bringe,
That with impatience hee bid mee say,
To speake with you, hee in the streete does stay.
Clor.
Gesippus come, and come in such hast too!
Pardon mee, madame, that I leave you now.
Alt.
Alasse! your virtue only can controll
Those feares his comeing gives my frighted Soule.
Clor.
Faire Altemera, quiet all your feares.
'Tis I am yours, not you my Prisoner.
And where I beare Command, you have more pow'r
Than were you in the Camp of Lucidor.
[Exeunt Clor. and Thras.
Alt.
Ah! Sure hee knew, though he would not confesse
The true cause of those feares I did expresse,
Which Justly doe my greifes the more advance.
His answere was his Craft, not Ignorance;
And nought soe soone cou'd bring Gesippus here
But to act that which more than death I feare.
Use all wayes, my Candaces, to find out
If that is Certaintie, which yet is doubt.
Those plagues, which fortune on my freind has throwne,
Give mee not leisure to deplore my owne.
[Exeunt.
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