 | The Amorous Prince, or, the Curious Husband |  |
ACT. I.
SCENE. I.
The Chamber of Cloris.Enter Cloris drest in her night Attire, with Frederick Dressing himself.
Clo.
And will you leave me now to fears,
Which love it self can hardly satisfie?
But those, and that together sure will kill me,
If you stay long away.
Fred.
My Dear, 'tis almost day, and we must part;
Should those rude eyes, 'mongst whom thou
Dwell'st, perceive us;
'Twould prove unhappy both to thee and me.
Clor.
And will you, Sir, be constant to your Vows?
Fred.
Ah Cloris! do not question what I've sworn;
If thou would'st have it once again repeated,
I'le do't. By all that's good, I'le marry thee;
By that most Holy Altar, before which we kneel'd,
When first I saw the brightest Saint that e're ador'd it;
I'le marry none but thee, my dearest Cloris.
Clor.
Sir, you hav said enough to gain a credit
With any Maid; though she had been deceiv'd
By some such flatteries, as these before.
I never knew the pains of fear till now;
[Sighs.
And you must needs forgive the faults you make;
2
I should have still believ'd you.
Fred.
Why dost thou not my Love?
Clor.
Some doubts I have, but when I look on you,
Though I must blush to do so, they all vanish;
But I provide against your absence, Sir.
Fred.
Make no provision Cloris, but of hope,
Prepare thy self against a Wedding day,
When thou shalt be a little Deity on Earth.
Clor.
I know not what it is to dwell in Courts,
But sure it must be fine, since you are there;
Yet I could wish you were an humble Shepherd,
And knew no other Pallace then this Cottage;
Where I would weave you Crowns, of Pinks and Dazies,
And you should be a Monarch every May.
Fred.
And Cloris, I could be content to sit
With thee, upon some shady Rivers bank,
To hear thee Sing, and tell a Tale of Love.
For thee, Alas! I could do any thing;
A Sheep-hook I could prize above a Sword;
An Army I would quit to lead a Flock,
And more esteem that Chaplet wreath'd by thee,
Then the Victorious Bays:
All this I could, but Dear, I have a Father,
Whom for thy sake, to make thee great and glorious,
I would not lose my int'rest with.
But Cloris see, the unkind day approaches,
And we must kiss and part.
Clor.
Unkind it is indeed, may it prove so,
To all that wish its presence,
And pass as soon away,
That welcome night may re-assume its place,
And bring you quickly back.
Fred.
With great impatience I'le expect that hour,
That shall conduct me in its shades to thee;
Farewel.
Clor.
Farewel Sir, if you must be gone.
[Sighs.
Fred.
One Kiss, and then indeed I will be gone.
[Kisses her.
3
Has not more Natural sweetness.
Ah Cloris! can you doubt that heart,
To whom such blessings you impart?
Unjustly you suspect that prize,
Won by such touches, and such eyes.
My Fairest, turn that Face away,
Unless I could for ever stay;
Turn but but a little while I go.
Clor.
Sir, I must see the the last of you.
Fred.
I dare not disobey; adieu till evening.
[Exit. Fred.
Enter Lucia.
Clor.
How now Lucia; is my Father up?
Luc.
No, not a Mouse stirs yet; I have kept a true
Watch all this night, for I was cruelly afraid
Lest we should have been surpriz'd—
Is the Prince gone? but why do I ask,
That may read it in your sad looks.
Clor.
Yes, he is gone, and with him too has taken.
[Sighs.
Luc.
What has he taken? I'le swear you frighten me.
Clor.
My heart Lucia.
Luc.
Your Heart, I am glad 'tis no worse.
Clor.
Why, what dost think he should have taken?
Luc.
A thing more hard to have been
Recovered again.
Clor.
What thing prethee?
Luc.
Your Maiden-head.
Clor.
What's that?
Luc.
A thing young Gallants long extremely for,
And when they have it too, they say
They care not a Dazy for the giver.
Clor.
How comest thou so wise Lucia?
Luc.
Oh the fine Gentleman that comes a nights
With the Prince, told me so much, and bid me
Be sure never to part with it for fine words,
For men would lie as often as they swore;
And so he bad me tell you too.
Clor.
Oh Lucia!
4
Why do you sigh?
Clo.
To think if Princes were like common Men,
How I should be undone.
Since I have given him all I had to give;
And who that looks on him can blame my faith.
Luc.
Indeed he surpasses Damon far;
But I'de forgot my self, you are the Princes Wife;
He said you should be kneel'd too, and ador'd,
And never look'd on but on Holy days:
That many Maids should wait upon your call,
And strow fine flowers for you to tread upon;
Musick and Love should daily fill your ears,
And all your other senses should be ravisht
With wonders of each kind, great as your beauty.
Clor.
Lucia, methinks you have learnt to speak fine things.
Luc.
I have a thousand more I've heard him say;
Oh, I could listen a whole night to hear him talk:
But hark, I hear a noise, the house is up,
And must not find us here.
Clor.
Lock up this Box of Jewels for me.
Luc.
Oh rare! what did these come to night?
Clor.
Yes, yes, away.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
A Grove.Enter Curtius and Pietro.
Cur.
I wonder the Prince stays so long;
I do not like these night-works;
Were I not confident of Cloris vertue,
—Which shall no more be tempted.
I hear some coming, and hope 'tis he—
Pietro, are the Horses ready?
Piet.
Yes my Lord.
[Exit. Pietro.
Enter Frederick.
Cur.
Sir, you are welcome from Cloris Arms.
Fred.
With much ado, I am got loose from those fair
Fetters; but not from those of her beauty;
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In spight of all my humours of inconstancy;
So soft and young, so fair and innocent,
So full of Air, and yet of languishment;
So much of Nature in her heart and eyes,
So timerous and so kind without disguise:
Such untaught sweets in every part do move,
As 'gainst my reason does compel my love;
Such artless smiles look so unorder'd too,
Gains more then all the charms of Courts can do;
From head to foot a spotless Statue seems,
As Art, not Nature, had compos'd her limbs;
So white, and so unblemisht, oh Curtius!
I'me ravisht beyond sense when I but think on't;
How much more must my surprise be,
When I behold these wonders.
Cur.
And have you seen her, Sir, in all this beauty?
Oh Hell!
[Aside.
Fred.
Curtius, I will not hide my Soul from thee;
I have seen all the marvels of that Maid.
Car.
My Soul learn now the Art of being disguis'd:
[Aside.
—'Tis much my, Lord, that one
Bred in such simple innocence,
Should learn so soon so much of confidence:
Pray, Sir, what Arts and cunning do you use?
Fred.
Faith time and importunity refuse no body.
Curt.
Is that the way? had you no other aids?
Made you no promise to her, Sir, of Marriage?
Fred.
Oh, yes in abundance, that's your only bait,
And though they cannot hope we will perform it,
Yet it secures their Honour and my Pleasure.
Cur.
Then, Sir, you have enjoy'd her?
Fred.
Oh yes, and gather'd sweets
Would make an Anchoret neglect his vow,
And think he had mistook his way to future bliss,
Which only can be found in such embraces;
'Twas hard to gain, but, Curtius, when once Victor,
Oh how the joys of conquest did enslave me!
6
But, Sir, methinks 'tis much that she should yield,
With only a bare promise that you'd marry her.
Fred.
Yes, there was something more—but—
Cur.
But, what Sir, you are not Married.
Fred.
Faith yes, I've made a Vow,
And that you know would go as far with any other man.
Cur.
But she it seems forgot you were the Prince?
Fred.
No, she urged that too,
And left no arguments unus'd
Might make me sensible of what I did;
But I was fixt, and overcame them all,
Repeating still my vows and passions for her,
Till in the presence of her Maid and Heaven
We solemnly contracted.
Cur.
But, Sir, by your permission was it well?
Fred.
What wouldst thou have him do
That's all on fire, and dies for an enjoyment?
Cur.
But having gain'd it, do you love her still?
Fred.
Yes, yet extremely,
And would be constant to the vows I've made,
Were I a man, as thou art of thy self;
But with the aids of Counsels I must chuse,
And what my Soul adores I must refuse.
Cur.
This passion, Sir, possession will destroy,
And you'l love less, the more you do enjoy.
Fred.
That's all my hope of cure; I'le ply that game,
And slacken by degrees th'unworthy flame.
Cur.
Methinks, my Lord, it had more generous been
To've check'd that flame when first it did begin.
E're you the slighted victory had won,
And a poor harmless Virgin quite undone;
And what is worse, you've made her love you too.
Fred.
Faith that's the greater mischief of the two;
I know to such nice Vertuous Souls as thine,
My juster inclination is a crime;
But I love pleasures which thou can'st not prize,
Beyond dull gazing on thy Mistress eyes,
The lovely object which enslaves my heart,
7
—And you on Laura have the same design.
Cur.
Yes, Sir, when justify'd by Laws Divine.
Fred.
Divine, a pleasant warrant for your sin,
Which being not made, we ne're had guilty been;
But now we speak of Laura,
Prethee when is't that I shall see that Beauty?
Cur.
Never I hope [Aside]
I know not, Sir,
Her Father still is Cruel, and denys me,
What she and I have long made sute in vain for;
But, Sir, your Interest might prevail with him,
When he shall know I'me one whom you esteem,
He will allow my flame, and my address,
He whom you favour cannot doubt success.
Fred.
This day I will begin to serve thee in it.
Cur.
Sir, 'twill be difficult to get access to her,
Her Father is an humerous old man,
And has his fits of Pride and kindness too.
Fred.
Well after dinner I will try my power,
And will not quit his Lodgings till I've won him.
Cur.
I humbly thank you Sir.
Fred.
Come let us hast, the day comes on apace.
Cur.
I'le wait upon you Sir;
Oh, Cloris, thou'rt undone, false Amorous Girle;
[Ex. Fred.
Was it for this I bred thee in obscurity,
Without permitting thee to know what Courts meant,
Lest their too powerful temptation
Might have betray'd thy Soul;
Not suffering thee to know thy Name or Parents,
Thinking an humble life
Might have secur'd thy Vertue:
And yet I should not hate thee for this sin,
Since thou art bred in so much innocence,
Thou couldst not dream of falsity in men:
Oh that it were permitted me to kill this Prince,
This false perfidious Prince;
And yet he knows not that he has abus'd me.
When did I know a man of so much Vertue,
8
—No he is just and good, only too much misled
By youth and flattery;
And one to whom my Soul is ty'd by friendship;
—Yet what's a Friend, a name above a Sister?
Is not her Honour mine?
And shall not I revenge the loss of it?
It is but common Justice.
But first I'le try all gentle means I may,
And let him know that Cloris is my Sister;
And if he then persevere in his crime,
I'le lay my interest and my duty by,
And punish him, or with my Honour dye.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
The Apartment of Antonio.Enter Lorenzo pulling in of Isabella.
Lor.
Nay, nay, Isabella, there's no avoiding me now,
You and I must come to a parley.
Pray what's the reason
You took no notice of me,
When I came with so civil an address too.
Isab.
Can you ever think to thrive in an Amour,
When you take notice of your Mistress,
Or any that belongs to her, in publique,
And when she's a Married woman too.
Lor.
Good Isabella, the loser may have leave to speak,
I am sure it has been a plaguy dear Amour to me.
Isab.
Let me hear you name that again,
And you shall miss of my assistance.
Lor.
Nay, do but hear me a little;
I vow 'tis the strangest thing in the world,
A man must part from so much money as I have done;
And be confin'd to Signs and Grimmasses only,
To declare his mind in;
9
As long as he pays for speaking.
Isab.
Again with your paying fort; I see you are not
To be reclaim'd; farewel—
Lor.
Stay good Isabella, stay,
And thou shalt here not one word of that more,
Though I am soundly urg'd to't.
Isab.
Yes, yes, pray count them, do;
I know you long to be at it,
And I am sure you will find you are in Arrears to us.
Lor.
Say you so, I am not of that opinion, but well,
—Let me see—here 'tis, here 'tis—
—My Bill of charge for Courting Clarina.
[Draws out his Table Book and reads.
Isab.
And here's mine for the returns that have been
Made you; begin, begin.
[Pulls out her Book.
Lor.
Item, 200 Crowns to Isabella for undertaking.
Isab.
Item, I have promis'd Lorenzo to serve him
In his Amour with all fidelity.
Lor.
Well, I own that debt paid, if you keep
Your word—out with it then—
[He crosses that out.
Item, 2000 Crowns in a Bracelet for Clarina;
What say you to that now Isabella?
Isab.
Item, The day after they were presented,
She saluted you with a smile at the Chappel.
Lor.
And dost thou think it was not dearly bought?
Isab.
No man in Florence should have had it
A Souce cheaper.
Lor.
Say you so Isabella; out with it then.
[Crosses it out.
Item, 100 more to thee for presenting them.
Isab.
Which I did with six lyes in your commendation,
Worth ten Pistols a piece for the exactness of a Lie;
Write there indebted to me—
Tor.
Nay then thou dost deserve it:
Rest due to Isabella.
[Writes.
Item, Innumerable Serenades, night-walks, affronts
And fears; and lastly, to the Poets for Songs, and the like.
Isab.
All which was recompenced in the excessive
10
Window on Horse-back, when you made such a
Deal of Capriol and Curvet.
Lor.
Yes, where I ventur'd my neck to shew my
Activity, and therefore may be well accompted
Amongst my losses.
Isab.
Then she receiv'd your Presents,
Suffer'd your Serenades, without sending her footmen
To break your Pate with the Fiddles.
Lor.
Indeed that was one of the best signs,
For I have been a great sufferer in that kind
Upon the like occasions; but dost thou think
In conscience that this should satisfie?
Isab.
Yes, any reasonable man in the world for the
First month at least; and yet you are still up
With your expences, as if a Lady of her quality
Were to be gain'd without them—
Let me hear of your expences more, and I'le—
Lor.
Oh sweet Isabella! upon my knees,
I beg thou wilt take no fatal resolution;
For I protest, as I am a man of Honour,
And adore thy Sex, thou shalt only see,
Not hear of my expences more;
And for a small testimony of it, here, take this;
There's twenty Pistols upon reputation.
[Gives her Money.
Isab.
Fie, Fie, 'tis not brave, nor generous to name
The sum; you should have slid it into my coat,
Without saying what you had done.
Lor.
What signifies that mun, as long as 'tis currant,
And you have it sure.
Isab.
Well, leave the management of your Affairs to me,
—What shall we do? here's Alberto.
Enter Alberto.
Lor.
Well, who can help it; I cannot walk invisible.
Alb.
Lorenzo, what making Love to Isabella?
Lor.
She'l serve, my Lord, for want of a better.
Isab.
That's but a course Complement.
Lor.
'Twill serve to disguise a truth however.
[Aside to her.
11
[Ex. Isab.
As this, that sav'd me 500 pound once upon a time;
And I have lov'd the whole Tribe of Waiting-women
The better ever since.
Alb.
You have reason, how was it?
Lor.
Why look you Sir?
I had made love a long time to a Lady,
But she shall be nameless,
Since she was of a quality not to be gain'd under
The aforesaid sum; well, I brought it,
Came powder'd and perfum'd, and high in expectation.
Alb.
Well Sir.
Lor.
And she had a very prety wench, who was to
Conduct me, and in the dark too;
And on my conscience, I e'ne fell aboard of her,
And was as well accommodated for my five,
As five hundred pounds, and so return'd.
Alb.
A great defeat to the Lady the while a my word.
Lor.
I, she smelt the Plot, and made a vow to follow
The Italian mode for the future;
And be serv'd in affairs of that kind, by none,
But an old Woman.
Alb.
'Twas wittily resolv'd.
Lor.
Are you for the presence this morning?
Alb.
No, I have business here with Antonio.
Lor.
Your Servant my Lord—
Exit. Lorenzo.
Alb.
I do not like this fellows being here,
The most notorious Pimp, and Rascal in Italy;
'Tis a vile shame that such as he should live,
Who have the form and sense of man about them,
And in their action Beast,
And that he thrives by too:
Enter Isabella.
—Isabella, is Antonio stiring?
Isab.
He is, please your Lordship to walk in.
Alb.
You may tell him I wait here—
—For I would avoid all opportunity of seeing Clarina.
[Aside.
Isab.
My Lord, you need not stand upon Ceremonies.
[Ex. Alberto.
12
—Drest already! now on my conscience
I know not which is which;
Pray God Antonio be not mistaken at night,
For I'le be sworn I am by day-light.
Ism.
Dost think I may pass thus for Clarina?
Isab.
Madam, you are the same to a hair,
Wood I might never stir,
If I can do any thing but wonder.
Clar.
But hark Isabella, if thou should'st have
Heard amiss, and that thy information should not be good,
Thou hast defeated us of a design,
Wherein we promise our selves no little pleasure.
Ism.
Yes I vow, all the Jest is lost if it be so.
Isab.
I doubt 'twill be a true Jest on your side.
[Aside.
—I warrant you, Madam, my Intelligence is good;
And to assure you of what I have said,
I dare undertake you shall hear the same over again;
For just now Alberto is come to visit my Lord,
Who I am sure will entertain him with no other stories,
But those of his jealousie,
And to perswade him to Court you.
Clar.
'Tis strange, since he set him that task so long ago,
He would not begin before.
Ism.
Nay, pray God he begin now;
Sister, he has hitherto took me for thee,
And sometimes his eyes give me hope of a secret
Fire within, but 'twill not out;
And I am so impatient till he declares himself,
That if he do not do it soon,
I shall e'ne tell him who I am;
For perhaps, the Wife takes off the appetite
Which would sharpen upon knowledge of the Virgin.
Clar.
What then, you'l have all the sport to your self;
—But, Ismena, remember my little revenge on Antonio
13
[Aside.
Isab.
But why this resemblance?
For, Madam, since he never saw you,
And takes Ismena to be you;
Might you not still pass so, without this likeness?
Clar.
Didst thou not say, Antonio left the Court
And City, on purpose to give Alberto the more freedom
To Court me:
—Whilst he was away, I needed but retire,
And Ismena appear, and 'twould sufficee;
But now he is return'd,
He may chance to see them together, en passant, or so,
And this dress will abuse him as well as Alberto,
For without that, this Plot of ours signifies little.
Ism.
Aye truly for my part, I have no other design
Then doing my Sister a service.
Isab.
The Plot is very likely to thrive I see,
Since you are so good at dissembling.
Ism.
Fie Isabella, what an ill opinion you have of me?
—But Sister, 'tis much Alberto being so intimate
With Antonio, should never see you all this whole
Six months of your being Married.
Clar.
Had you been bred any where,
But in a Monastery, you would have known,
'Tis not the custom here for men to expose their
Wives to the view of any.
Isab.
I hear them coming, let's away,
And pray listen to the truths I have already told you.
[Exeunt.
SCENE. IV.
Enter Antonio and Alberto.[Clarina and Ismena listen.
Alb.
Once more Antonio, welcom back to Court.
Ant.
Oh my dear friend, I long'd for thy embraces;
—How goes the Game I left with thee to play?
What says my Wife, my beautiful Clarina?
14
Clarina—
Ant.
Yes Clarina, have you not seen her yet?
I left the Court on purpose, for 'twas not handsome
For me to introduce you;
Lest she had lookt upon't as some design.
Alb.
Seen her—yes—
Ant.
And I conjur'd her too, to give you freedoms
Even equal to Antonio;
As far as I durst press with modesty,
And with pretence of Friendship;
And have you not attempted her?
Alb.
Yes—but 'tis in vain.
Ant.
Oh Villanious dissembler.
[Aside.
Alb.
She's cruel, strangely cruel,
And I'me resolv'd to give the Courtship o're.
Ant.
Sure friend, thou hast not us'd thy wonted power.
Alb.
Yes, all that I know I'me master of, I us'd.
Ant.
But didst thou urge it home? did she not see,
Thy words and actions did not well agree?
Canst thou dissemble well? didst cry and melt,
As if the pain you but exprest, you felt?
Didst kneel, and swear, and urge thy quality,
Heightning it too with some disgrace on me?
And didst thou too assail her feeble side?
For the best bait to woman is her Pride;
Which some mis-call her Guard:
Didst thou present her with the set of Jewels?
For Women naturally are more inclin'd
To Avarice, then Men:
Pray tell me Friend,
—Vile woman did she take them—
Alb.
I never ask'd her that.
Clar.
Poor Antonio how I pity him.
[Aside.
Ant.
No!
Alb.
No, I've done enough to satisfie thy jealousie;
Here take your set of Jewels back again;
[Gives a Box.
Upon my life Clarina is all chastity.
Ant.
I were the happiest man on Earth, were this but true;
15
Which will assist thy tongue to win her heart;
And that once got, the other soon will follow;
There's far more women won by Gold then industry:
Try that my dear Alberto,
And save thy eyes the trouble of desembling.
Alb.
Content thee here, and do not tempt thy fate,
I have regard unto thy Honour Friend,
And should she yield, as women are no gods,
Where were thy future Joys;
What is't could make thee happy, or restore
That true contentment which thou had'st before?
Alas thou tempt'st me too, for I am frail,
And love above my friendship may prevail.
Ant.
This will not do;
No, as thou art my Friend, and lov'st my Honour,
Pursue Clarina further;
Rally a fresh, and charge her with this Present,
Disturb her every night with Serenades;
Make Love-Songs to her, and then Sing them too;
Thou hast a voice enough alone to conquer.
Alb.
Fool Antonio.
[Aside.
Ant.
Come wilt thou undertake it once again?
Alb.
I would not.
Ant.
I am resolv'd to get this tryal made,
And if thou dost refuse thy Amity,
I'le try a Friend more willing, though less faithful,
With thee my Wife and Honour too are safe;
For should she yield, and I by that were lost,
'Twere yet some ease,
That none but thou wer't witness to't.
Alb.
Well, if it must be done, I'de rather do't,
Then you should be expos'd to th'scorn of others.
Ant.
Spoke like my noble Friend;
Come dine with her to day, for I must leave you,
And give you all the opportunity
A real Lover wishes with a Mistress:
Isam.
[So we have heard enough.]
Ex. Clar. and Ism.
Ant.
Oh were Clarina chaste, as on my Soul
16
All woman kind may be seduc'd from Vertue;
I were the man of all the world most blest,
In such a Wife, and such a Friend as thou.
Alb.
But what if I prevail Antonio?
Ant.
Then I'le renounce my faith in woman kind,
And place my satisfaction in thy Amity.
—But see she comes, I'le leave you to your task.
Enter Ismena and Isabella.
Ism.
Antonio not yet gone—
This must secure me.
Pulls down her Veil.
Ant.
Clarina, why thus clouded?
Isab.
I see he has most happily mistaken.
Ism.
I was going, Sir, to visit Laura—
Ant.
You must not go, I've business to the Duke,
And you must entertain my Friend till my return;
It is a freedom not usual here amongst Ladies,
But I will have it so;
Whom I esteem I'le have you do so to.
Ism.
Sir, I am all obedience.
[Exit Antonio, She pulls off her Veil; Albert. salutes her with seeming-lowness.
Alb.
Oh how my Soul's divided,
Between my Adoration and my Amity!
[Aside
Friendship, thou sacred band, hold fast thy interest,
For yonder Beauty has a subtle power,
And can undo that knot, which other Arts
Could ne're invent a way for.
Enter Antonio and listens at the door.
Ant.
I'le see a little how he behaves himself.
[Aside.
Alb.
But she's Antonio's wife; my friend Antonio,
[Aside.
A youth that made an interest in my Soul,
When I had language scarce to express my sense of it.
Ant.
Death, he speaks not to her.
[Aside.
Alb.
So grew we up to man, and still more fixt;
[Aside.
And shall a gawdy beauty,
A thing, which t'other day, I never saw,
Deprive my heart of that kind heat,
17
Clarina, 'tis unjust.
Ism.
Sir, did you speak to me.
Alb.
I have betray'd my self—
Madam, I was saying how unjust it was
Antonio should leave me alone with a Lady,
Being certainly the worst to entertain them in the world.
Ant.
His face assures me he speaks of no love to her now.
Ism.
Alas, he speaks not to me,
[Aside.
Sure Isabella was mistaken,
Who told me that he lov'd me;
—Alberto, if thou art oblig'd to me,
[Aside.
For what I have not yet observ'd in thee:
Oh do not say my heart was easily won,
But blame your eyes, whose forces none can shun.
Ant.
Not a word, what can he mean by this?
Ism.
Sir, will you please to sit a while?
Isab.
Madam, the inner chamber is much better,
For there he may repose upon the Cushions till my
Lords return; I see he is not well—
—And you are both sick of one disease.
[Aside.
Alb.
I thank you, here's more air,
—And that I need, for I am all on fire,
[Aside.
And every look adds fuel to my flame.
—I must avoid those eyes, whose light misguides me:
—Madam, I have some business calls me hence,
And cannot wait my friends return.
Ism.
Antonio, Sir, will think 'tis my neglect
That drove you hence; pray stay a little longer.
Alb.
You shall command me, if you can dispence
With so dull company.
Isab.
I can with any thing Antonio loves.
Alb.
Madam, it is a Vertue that becomes you;
For though your Husband should not merit this,
Your goodness is not less to be admir'd;
But he's a man so truely worth your kindness,
That 'twere a sin to doubt,
Your passion for him were not justly paid.
18
Sir, I believe you, and I hope he thinks
That my opinion of him equals yours;
'Tis plain he loves me not,
[Aside.
Perhaps, his Vertue, thinking me Clarina,
May hide the real passion of his Soul.
Oh Love, what dangerous paths thou mak'st us tread!
Ant.
Cold, cold as Devotion, oh inhumane friendship!
Alb.
What shall I do next? I must either be rude,
And say nothing, or speak of Love to her;
And then my Friend thou'rt lost should I prevail,
And I'me undone should she not hear my tale,
Which for the world I would not have hear hear;
And yet I fear my eyes too much declare.
Ism.
Since he's in so ill an humour, let's leave him,
I'me satisfy'd now that thou wer't mistaken.
[Ex. Ismena and Isabella unseen.
Alb.
But they shall gaze no more on hers,
Nor stray beyond the limits of a just salute.
—I will my Honour to my Love prefer,
And my Antonio shall out-Rival her.
[Looks about and misses them.
—Ah, am I left alone!—how frail is man;
That which last moment I resolv'd upon,
I find my heart already disapprove,
And grieve her loss; can this be ought but love?
My Soul's dissatisfy'd now she is gone,
And yet but now I wish't to be alone;
—Inform me Love who shares the better part,
Friendship, or thee, in my divided heart.
[Offers to go.
Enter Antonio and stays him.
Ant.
Whether in such haste?
Thou look'st e'ne as sad as a Lover repulst,
I fear that fate's, not thine.
Alb.
Now for a lye to satisfie him.
[Aside.
Prethee discharge me of this toyl of dissembling,
Of which I grow as weary, as she's of hearing it.
Ant.
Indeed.
Alb.
Sure thou haste a design to make her hate me.
Ant.
Do you think so in earnest, why was she angry?
19
Oh! hadst thou seen her pretty blushing scorn
Which she would fain have hid,
Thou wouldst have pitied what I made her suffer.
Ant.
Is't possible!
And didst present her with the Box of Jewels?
Alb.
Yes.
Ant.
And kneel, and cry, and swear, and—
Alb.
All, all.
Ant.
I hardly gave thee time for so much Courtship,
—But you are sure she was displeased with it?
Alb.
Extremely.
Ant.
Enough Alberto; adieu to thee and friendship.
Alb.
What mean you?
Ant.
Ask your own guilt, it will inform thee best.
Alb.
Thou canst not think Clarina has abus'd thee.
Ant.
I do not think she has, nor have you try'd her;
In that you have not only disoblig'd me,
But now you would impose upon my weakness;
—Did I not see how unconcern'd you were,
And hardly paying her a due respect;
And when she even invited thee to speak,
Most rudely thou wer't silent.
Alb.
Be calm Antonio, I confess my error.
And hate that vertue taught me to deceave thee;
—Here take my hand,—
I'le serve thee in good earnest.
Ant.
And now I do believe thee,
Go—thou shalt lose no time, I must away,
My Soul's in torment, tell I am confirm'd
Of my Clarina's Vertue;
I do believe thou hast a generous shame,
For what thou'st said and done to me thy friend;
For could I doubt thy love: oh how ridiculous
This act of mine would seem!
But 'tis to thee, as to my Soul I come,
Disputing every petty crime and doubt.
Alb.
Antonio, if there need an Oath between us.
Ant.
No, I credit thee; go in,
20
For this uncertainty disturbs me more,
Then if I knew Clarina were a—Whore—
[Exeunt severally.
| The Amorous Prince, or, the Curious Husband | |