University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

The Palace.
Armusia, Sforza, Emanuel.
Em.
Why are you sad, Sir? what can grieve or vex you?
That have the pleasures of the World, the profits,
The Honours, and the Loves at your dispose?

Arm.
I want what Beggars are allow'd I mean content.
I want the Grace I have merited, the favour,
The due respect.

Sfor.
Does not the King allow it?

Arm.
Yes, and all Honours else that I can ask,
Or he has power to give: but Oh! his Sister,
That scornful Cruelty; forgive me, Beauty,
That I Transgress from her, that shou'd look on me;
That shou'd a little Smile upon my Service,
And soften my Deserts, for her own Faith's sake:
That shou'd at least acknowledge me, speak to me.

Em.
And you go Sighing up and down for this;
Lamenting and disputing of your Grievances?

Arm.
What wou'd you have me do?
Do what a Man wou'd in this Case, a wise man,
An understanding Man, that knows the Sex.
Go to her.

Sfor.
That's the way.

Em.
And talk as you fought for her boldly;
Both what you are, and what you have deserv'd.

Arm.
It makes me smile.

Em.
Now you look handsomely;
Had I so fair a Prize to win,
I wou'd so flatter.

Sfor.
Pray take our Counsel.

Arm.
I shall do something,
But not your way, it seems too Boisterous,
For my Affections are as fair, and gentle,
As her I serve. Friends leave me to my thoughts
An Hour or two, anon you shall command me.

Em.
I hate this thinking, it marrs all business.

Sfor.
We shall look for you, Sir.

[Ex. Sforza, Emanuel.
Arm.
What shall I do to make her know my Misery,
To make her sensible—This is her Woman.
[Enter Panura.
I have a Toy come to me suddenly,
That may work for the best, she can but scorn me,
Lower I cannot fall—I try my Fate:
May I presume, fair One—

Pan.
'Tis the brave Stranger.
Now by my Ladies Hand, a handsome Gentleman.
How happy shall she be in such a Husband:
Wou'd I were so provided.

Arm.
Can you have so much Charity for a Stranger;
To let him pass this Evening in your Company,
And what must be a Charity indeed
(In one whose Youth and Beauty dart such Charms)
To think my meaning fair.

Pan.
I dare believe you;
Or if it were not, that's no great matter,
What have we Vertue for, but to be exercis'd;
Besides we take mens promises—Wou'd you speak
With me, Sir?

Arm.
That you wou'd favour me with your acquaintance;
I wou'd say Friendship, for my Grief requires it.
You are the Princess confident,
And wait upon her near?

Pan.
I understand you.

Arm.
With one kind office, you may bind a Gentleman
Hereafter to be yours.
Such beauteous Faces shou'd have courteous Minds,
And ready Faculties.

Pan.
Tell me your business;
Yet if it be to her, I think your self, Sir,
Wou'd do much better:
The Princess must be pleased with your Addresses;
I'm sure I shou'd.

Arm.
I want assurance,
And yet am but a Stranger, wou'd fain speak with her.

Pan.
'Tis growing late, and on her Hour of Sleep.

Arm.
Pray wear this, and believe my meaning Civil.
My business of that fair respect and carriage.

Pan.
I must do't now, an' I were to be hang'd: nay, and I
Will do't; for another so good, and from a Gentleman
So handsom, I shou'd even venture upon high
Treasure.

Arm.
I wou'd speak to her, and privately.

Pan.
So you shall, Sir.

My Service were not else worth thanks: you must
make hast, Sir.

Arm.
This Minute.

Pan.
And I must leave you in my Chamber, Sir:
Where you must lock your self, that none may see you:
'Tis next to hers—You cannot miss the Entrance,
When she comes down to Bed.

Arm.
Once more I thank ye, Lady.

Pan.
Thank me but thus.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter King, Governour, like a Moor Priest.
King.
So far and truly you have discovered to me
The former currents of my life and fortunes,
That I am bold to acknowledge you most holy,
And certainly to credit your predictions,
Of what are yet to come.

Gov.
I am no lyer,
'Tis strange I should, and live so near a Neighbour;
But these are not my ends.

King.
I pray you sit, good Father,
Certain a reverend Man, and most Religious.

Gov.
I; that belief's well now, and let me work then,
I'll make ye curse Religion before I leave ye;
I have liv'd a long time, Son, a mew'd up Man,
Sequestred by the special hand of Heaven.
From the World's vanity, all to find out knowledge,
Which I have now attained to, thanks to Heaven,
All for my Countries good too, and many a Vision,
Many a Mystick Vision, have I seen Son.
And many a sight from Heaven, which has been terrible,
Wherein the goods and evils of these Islands,
Were lively shadowed; many a charge have I had too,
Still as the time grew ripe, to reveal these,
To travel and discover, now I am come, Son,
The hour is now appointed,
And now I speak.

King.
Do holy man, I'll hear ye.

Gov.
Beware these Portugals, I say, beware 'em,
These smooth-fac'd strangers, have an Eye on 'em,
The cause is now the Gods; hear and believe, King.

King.
—I do hear, but before I give rash credit,
Or hang too light on belief, which is a Sin, Father;
Know I have found 'em gentle, faithful, valiant,
And am in my particular bound to 'em,
I mean to some for my most strange deliverance.

Gov.
O Son, the future aims of men! observe me,
Above their present actions, and their glory,
Are to be looked at, the Stars show many turnings
If you could see, mark but with my eye, Pupil;
These men came hither, as my Vision tells me,
Poor, weather-beaten, almost starved, feebled,
Their Vessels like themselves, most miserable,
Made a long sute for Trafique, and for comfort,
To vend their Childrens toys, cure their diseases:
They had their sute, they landed and to the rate,
Grew rich and powerful, suck'd the Fat and Freedom
Of thy most noble Isle, taught her to tremble,
Witness the Castle here, the Citadel,
They have clapt up the neek of your Tidore,
This happy Town, till that she knew these strangers;
To check her, when she is Jolly.

King.
They have so, indeed Father.

Gov.
Take heed, take heed, I find your fair delivery,
Though you be pleased to glorifie that Fortune,
And think these strangers Goods, take heed, I say,
I find it but a handsome preparation,
A fair fac'd Prologue to future mischief:
Mark but the end, good King, the pin he shoots at,
That was the Man delivered ye; the Mirrour.
Your Sister is his due, what's she, your heir, Sir?
And what's he a kin then to the Kingdom?
But heirs are not Ambitious, who then suffers?
What Reverence shall the Gods have? and what Justice?
The miserable People, what shall they do?

King.
He points at Truth directly.

Gov.
Think of these, Son:
The Person, nor the manner I dislike not
Of your Preserver, nor the whole Man together,
Were he but season'd in the Faith we are,
Or our Devotions learned.

King.
You say right, Father.

Gov.
To change our worships now, and our Religion;
To be Traytor to our God.

King.
You have well advis'd me,
And I will seriously consider, Father,
In the mean time you shall have your fair access
Unto my Sister, advise her to your purpose,
And let me still know how the Gods determine.

Gov.
I will, but my main end is to advise
The Destruction of you all, a general Ruine,
And when I am reveng'd, let the Gods whistle.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Quisara laid Melancholy. Panura waiting. Soft Musick and Song.
Quis.
Make me unready,
I slept but ill last Night.

Pan.
You'll sleep the better to Night I hope, Madam.

Quis.
A little Rest contents me—fetch my Book.

Pan.
I'm glad of that.

[Aside.
Quis.
I'll read awhile before I sleep.
And if Ruidias meet you, and be importunate,
He may come in.

Pan.
I have better fare for you.
[Aside.
Now least in sight play I.
Exit Panura.

Quisara alone.
Quis.
Ye Gods how happy is that Shepherdess,
Who through Love is to the Plains confined,
And ne're aspires above the Shepherds Tribe;
Yet still she's free to take the Swain she Loves,
While Royal Virgins Hearts are publick Pawns
To serve the needs of State; barter'd and sold:
Nor can I only blame my Birth or Fortune;
Virtue and Honour have alike betrayed me.
The Kings restor'd, but I a Prisoner made.
By promise his Restorer's Sacrifice.
Oh Fortune! Fatal Virtue! Oh Ruidas!
Enter Armusia, who locks the Door after him.
Shield me ye Powers! What's here?
Sure 'tis the Phantasm of the Man I dread;
Form'd by my Fears: Who are you; and whence come you?

Arm.
You sure may know me:
I bring no such Amazement.

Quis.
Who waits there? rude Intruder speak?
What means this Treachery? Who let you in?

Arm.
My restless Love that serves you.

Quis.
This is an Impudence unparallell'd,
A rudeness that becomes a Thief or Russian.
Nor shall my Brother's Love protect this boldness;
My Rooms are Sanctuaries, and shall be approach'd
With Reverence equal to the Temples of
Our Gods.

Arm.
Mine are not less.

Quis.
I am Mistress of my self, and will not be
Thus Visited, spight of boasted Service.

Arm.
Most Royal.—

[Approaches her respectfully.
Quis.
Stand off, I see dishonour in your Eyes.

[Draws a Poniard.
Arm.
There's none.
By all that Beauty they are innocent;
'Pray' tremble not, you have no Cause.

Quis.
So base a Violation of my Privacy?

Arm.
If there be in you any Female pity,
And that your fears have not proclaimed me Monstrous,
Look on me and believe me; is this Violence?
The Griefs and Sorrows that grow here, Impudence?
Is it to fall thus prostrate to your Beauty,
A Ruffian's boldness? is Humility Rudeness?
Far be it from my Heart to fright your Quiet,
And heaviest Curse fall on me, when I intend it.

Quis.
May I believe?

Arm.
Had I been mischievous,
As then I must be Mad, or were a Monster,
If any such base Thoughts had harbour'd here,
Or Violence becoming not a Man,
You have a thousand Bulwarks to assure you,
The Holy Powers bear shields for Chastity.
If you misdoubt me still,
Or yet retain a fear I am not honest,
Or come with impure Thoughts to these blest Mansions,
Take this and sheath it here; be your own safety:
Make hast to rid fears, and let me perish.
How willing shall I sleep to satisfie you!

Quis.
What came you then for?

Arm.
To complain, my Angel,
But Modestly.

Quis.
Of What?

Arm.
Your Cruelty.
For though I die I will not blame the Doer.
To instance what I have done to obtain you,
If any thing that Love Commands, may reach you,
To have remember'd you—but I'm unworthy,
And to that Misery falls all my Fortune,
That Oh I fear to claim what you have promised!
(So much more easy was the Task proposed,
Than to demand the Recompence) to have told you,
That as my Love is honest 'tis confirm'd;
Beyond the Power even of your dread Commands,
To change or make it less; beyond your Scorn:
For though despairing I have sworn to Marry
You or your Memory—'Pray be not Angry.

Quis.
Then you would have me pass a fair Opinion
Of this untimely Entrance; that it meant
No Violation to my Peace or Honour;
And but the rash Effects of Love's Excess?

Arm.
No more by Heaven.

Quis.
And that you are hereafter
Devoted to my Service.

Arm.
Life and Fortune.

Quis.
I'll try then your Obedience.

Arm.
I am ready,
Without demanding what.

Quis.

Then from this hour expect no farther favour,
nor once remember services you have done, nor dangers
past, nor the rewards due to them.

Arm.
Is this my Doom, and is there no Redress?

Quis.
But one,
Which you must wholly to my Favour owe;
For I must blush to tell your Cure—I LOVE—
My Heart was all dispos'd before you claim'd it;
Fancy had got the start of your Deserts,
Which yet I prize so high, that for your Ease,
I force my Modesty on this Confession,
To disengage your hopes: nor let the Man,
That has so highly serv'd, depend
On Fruitless Air.

Arm.
This is indeed Court Mercy,
To let the Suitor know his Doom betimes.
But, Madam, was—

Quis.
I've said and must enjoyn you,
To quit this Place immediately.

Arm.
I obey you.

[As he is going out he justles with Ruidias Entring.
Rui.
Ha! Who is This?

Arm.
Who art Thou?

Rui.
A Gentleman.

Arm.
Thou art no more I am sure.—Oh 'tis Ruidias,
And I perceive her favour'd Lover.

Rui.
Is there not Door enough,
You take such Elbow room?

Arm.
What I take I'll carry.

Rui.
Do's this become you Princess?

Arm.
Jealous alas of Mee! How blind is Man.
Go, freely go, I give thee Leave.

Rui.
Your Leave?

Arm.
The Place and you are privileged; therefore go.
[Exit Armusia.

Quis.
What a pure Soul inhabits in this Youth?
Courage and Temper; such transcending Worth,
As cannot fail to make Impress of Love
In heart not pre-engaged: My choice is past!

Rui.
Am I then made your Property? Are these, Madam,
The Banquets that you bid me to? the trust
I build my goodly hopes on?

Quis.
Be more Temperate;
Your Love stands yet upon my Courtesie;
I never gave you Promise, bare Permission,
To tell your Love was all i've yet allow'd,
And if you do abuse your Privilege—

Rui.
Armusia here, and in the dead of Night?
May I not, Madam, take the leave to ask,
How he came hither; pressing, or invited?

Quis.
You are too bold.

Rui.
What, At these private Hours?

Quis.
You are to rash to tax me with an Error.
Know what I am, and my Prerogative,
I never taught you too dispose my Freedom.
How durst you touch my Honour, blot my meaning,
And name an Action and of mine, but Noble!
Are those the Gratitudes you bring, Ruidias,
The Thanks, the Services! How have I grac'd thee?
And dost thou in return upbraid my Vertue?

Rui.
I was to blame.

Quis.
Armusia wou'd not pass so rash a Censure,
And Justice tells me I should punish thee:
But 'twas a fault of Love—Yet learn henceforth
Less Jealousie, nay I had almost said,
More Gallantry.

Rui.
More Gallantry! She cannot doubt my Courage,
This Isle has found it—But Armusia's Lawrels
Bear fresher Date—Yet still I hold her Heart,
And must with him dispute the point of Fame,
And when I have o'ercome him the Field,
His ruin'd Glories mine shall firmer Build.