University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

The Curtain rising, discovers Hillario asleep at the foot of an old Oak.
Enter CORISCA.
CORISCA.
Hillario! arise, I say!
Nor any longer let the laughing sun
Imprint a burning shame upon thy forehead.
[Hillario rises.
Look, if you are a man, and see their tender parting:
What sighs and countless kisses they've exchang'd,
And full as quick as my poor heart repeats 'em.

HILLARIO.
You should be let blood Corisca!
Love's raging fever is abroad, my girl:
Let's feel thy pulse! one, two, three, four!
Ay, galloping like mad, as I suspected!
Why, thou hast all the symptoms of the malady!

CORISCA.
[Placing his hand on his forehead.
Count there, my busy Doctor, and you'll find
The pulse of folly wildly beat! for shame!
Thou wert not wont, Hillario, to be blind:
I marvel, would you prosper in the world,
That you your betters do not imitate.

[Pointing behind to Eugenius and Sophia.
HILLARIO.
Imitation! 'tis but a scurvy business at the best,
And in kissing it favours still more vilely,
Lacking the spirit that should keep it warm.

CORISCA.
Peace, they approach!

HILLARIO.
Mute as a pickled sturgeon.

Enter EUGENIUS (in a warlike habit) and SOPHIA.
EUGENIUS.
Since we must part, my love, farther to pass
Is not alone unwise, but even dangerous;
For on yon frontier height, the Turkish camp
Extends 'twixt us and the Hungarian line:
Be now discreet as ever, and pr'ythee wed
Thy understanding to thy constant patience!

SOPHIA.
You put it to the utmost trial now.

[Weeping.
EUGENIUS.
Nay, no melting;
For the necessity that thus divides us,
Full oft have we recounted, and the cause
Wash'd with our blended tears.

SOPHIA.
If blest the hour that ratified our union,
Now can Eugenius leave me?

EUGENIUS.
Not as some think, for mere desire of fame,
Or to be cry'd up by the public voice
For a brave soldier, do I appear in arms:
Such airy humours strike not me: Alas!
Too well thou know'st, with what a scanty hand
Fortune has dealt out our demeans; 'tis she
Enjoins it.

SOPHIA.
In you alone, my lord,
I've all abundance!

EUGENIUS.
In your own language I would answer you,
For thou hast been a right obedient wife:
And to my power (tho' short of your desert)
I hope I have not fail'd in th' indulgent husband.
We have long enjoy'd the sweets of love;
Yet, my Sophia,
We must not live such dotards in our pleasures,
As still to hug them to a certain loss.

SOPHIA.
Have you in me
Found any sign of discontent, my lord?

EUGENIUS.
No my Sophia,
Nor shalt thou e'er have reason to repent
Thy constant course in goodness, if heav'n smile
Upon my honest undertakings. 'Tis for thee
That I turn soldier, and cheerfully embark
Upon this sea of action, there to trade
For rich materials; nobly to adorn
Thy lovely person; and to th' admiring world
Display it in full lustre. Oft I've blush'd
That other ladies, inferior ev'n in beauty
And outward form, but in the harmony
Of the soul's ravishing music not to be nam'd
With thee, in splendour should outshine thee,
While you, devoid of these, past unregarded.

SOPHIA.
If I'm so rich in your opinion, why for me
Would you additions borrow?

EUGENIUS.
Why? Should I not be justly censured
Of ignorance, possessing such a jewel
Above all price, if I forbore to give it
The best of ornaments? Therefore, Sophia,
In few words, know my pleasure, and as briefly
As you have ever done, obey me; to your discretion
I leave the government of my family,
And our poor fortunes: to the uttermost
Of what is mine, live plentifully,
And ere the remnant of our store be spent,
I hope, with my good sword, to reap for you
A harvest, that shall make a merry winter.

SOPHIA.
Since you are not
To be by me diverted from your purpose,
Go when you please, my poor impatient soul
Must follow after you. To tell you,
What in your absence I will do, would shew
But poorly; my actions best will speak it.—
It were to doubt your love, should I request
That I might hear from you; but by night or day,
No courier, unexamin'd, shall pass by.—
Adieu!
[throwing herself in his arms.
If thus within your arms I dwell too long,
Think of the cruel fast that must succeed
This short dear feast, and you'll excuse it.
Pray turn from me, all that I can is spoken!
[Exit Sophia.

EUGENIUS.
Follow thy mistress strait, Corisca;
Forbear your wishes for me. Those let me find
At my return, in your prompt will to serve her.

HILLARIO.
Fly, Corisca.
For my own poor part, Sir, I will grow lean with hard study
To make my mistress merry.

(Exeunt Hillario and Corisca.
EUGENIUS.
I'm strangely troubled! yet why nourish thus
A fury here, and with imagin'd food,
Having no real grounds on which to raise
A doubt she ever was, or can be false?
In this, I do but foolishly enquire
The knowledge of a future sorrow.

[Muses.
Enter BAPTISTA.
BAPTISTA.
(Aside.)
Still brooding o'er imaginary ills
Which Fate herself might ne'er decree—My scheme
May cool this self-rais'd fever in his mind,
If to that credit I have gain'd in th' arts,
Credulity but lend the lover's ear;
Friendship at least approves of the device.

EUGENIUS.
I've consulted with a friend of mine,
One deeply read in Nature's hidden secrets;
And, tho' with much reluctance, him have won
To do as much as Art enables him
To resolve me of my future fate.
[Seeing Baptista.
Here to my wish he comes.
Now, my Baptista!

BAPTISTA.
If you can
Proportion your desire to any mean,
I'd pronounce you happy. I have found
By certain rules of Art, your matchless wife
Is to the present hour unspotted.

EUGENIUS.
Good!

BAPTISTA.
In reason, therefore, you should be content,
And make no search of what may fall hereafter.

EUGENIUS.
O Baptista!
'Tis not in me to master so my passions.
I must know farther, or you have made good
But half your promise. While my Love stood by
Holding her's upright—how, thus untempted,
Could she give proof of well-tried constancy?
But when I'm absent, and my coming back
Uncertain—she, without controul or curb,
The absolute disposer of herself—nay, more,
By strong temptations press'd on ev'ry side—
If then she holds out—

BAPTISTA.
As no doubt she will:

EUGENIUS.
These doubts must be made certainties
By your assurance, or your boasted Art
Will lose its admiration.

BAPTISTA.
I cannot dive into her hidden thoughts,
And learn her close intents, with all my skill;
But what I can, I readily will do.—
Will it content you, if, while distant far,
You there shall know, as if you then were with her,
When, and how far, by Love, she e'er be wrought on?

EUGENIUS.
I ask no more.

BAPTISTA.
Take then this little model of Sophia,
With more than human skill pourtray'd;
Each line and lineament of the drawing
So punctually observ'd, that, had it motion,
'Twould ev'n dispute originality with her.

[Gives him the Miniature.
EUGENIUS.
It is indeed an admirable piece!
Whence came it?

BAPTISTA.
Of that no matter now—

EUGENIUS.
But if it have not some concealed charm
Of which I know not, wherefore must I bear
Her lovely counterfeit?

BAPTISTA.
I'll instruct you:
Carry it still about you, and as oft
As you have wish to know how she's affected,
With curious eye peruse it: while it holds
The beauteous image that it now presents
Entire and perfect, know that she remains
Not only innocent, but unattempted.
But if th' harmonious colouring should change,
And, from its softly blended white and red,
Incline to jealous yellow, rest assur'd
She is with ardor woo'd, tho' yet unconquer'd.
Should it assume a fatal sable hue,
Her virtue, and your honor, are no more!

EUGENIUS.
Thanks, my Baptista.
So much have you engag'd me by this favor,
That the service of my life will scarce repay it.
Adieu!

BAPTISTA.
Not yet; for I have more t' impart:
That as we ride along; for I'm not quite so old,
But I may see you join th' Hungarian troops,
And with the rising Sun behold the conflict.

EUGENIUS.
As my better angel then,
You shall direct and guide me!—Come.
Our chargers there.

[Exeunt Eugenius and Baptista.