University of Virginia Library

Act V.

Scene I.

Enter Archidamus and Cleora.
Archid.
Thou art thine own Disposer—(Yet I must confess,
Leosthenes is most worthy)—yet, I will not,
However I may counsel) force Affection.

Cleor.
It needs not, Sir; I prize him to his Worth,
Nay, love him truly; yet would not live slav'd
To his jealous Humours; since, by the Hopes of Heaven,
As I am free from Violence—In a Thought
I am not guilty.

Archid.
'Tis believ'd, Cleora,
And much the rather, (our great Gods be prais'd for't)
In that I find, beyond my Hopes, no Sign
Of Riot in my House, but all Things order'd,
As if I had been present.

Cleor.
May that move you
To pity poor Marullo.

Archid.
'Tis my Purpose
To do him all the Good I can, Cleora:
But this Offence being against the State,
Must have a publick Trial—
I must to the Senate.

[Exit.
Cleor.
I am much distracted—In Leosthenes
I can find nothing justly to accuse,
But this Excess of Love, which I have studied
To cure with more than common Means; yet still
It grows upon him—And if I may call
My Sufferings Merit, I stand bound to think on
Marullo's Dangers—Tho' I save his Life,
His Love is unrewarded—I confess,
Both have deserv'd me; yet of Force must be
Unjust to one—Such is my Destiny.
Enter Timandra.
How now? Whence flow these Tears?

Timand.
I have met, Madam,
An Object of such Cruelty, as would force
A Savage to Compassion.

Cleor.
Speak—What is it?

Timand.
Men pity Beasts of Rapine, if o'er-match'd,
Tho' baited for their Pleasure—But these Monsters,
Upon a Man that can make no Resistance,
Are senseless in their Tyranny.—Let it be granted,
Marullo is a Slave, he's still a Man—
A Capital Offender; yet, in Justice,
Not to be tortur'd, 'till the Judge pronounce
His Punishment.

Cleor.
Where is he?

Timand.
Dragg'd to Prison
With more than barb'rous Violence, spurn'd and spit on
By th'insulting Officers, his Hands
Pinion'd behind his Back—Loaden with Fetters:
Yet, with a Saint-like Patience he still offers
His Face to their rude Buffets.

Cleor.
O, my griev'd Soul!
By whose Command?

Timand.
It seems, my Lord, your Brother;
For he's a Looker on—And it takes from
Honour'd Leosthenes to suffer it,
For his Respect to you, whose Name, in vain,
The griev'd Wretch loudly calls on.

Cleor.
By Diana,
'Tis base in both, and to their Teeth I'll tell 'em
That I am wrong'd in it.

[Going.
Timand.
What will ye do?

Cleor.
In Person
Visit and comfort him.

Timand.
That will bring Fuel
To the jealous Fires, which burn too fierce already
In Lord Leosthenes.

Cleor.
Let them consume him—
I am Mistress of myself—Where Cruelty reigns,
There dwells nor Love nor Honour.

[Exit Cleora.
Timand.
So, it works.
Tho' hitherto I have run a desperate Course,
To serve my Brother's Purposes, now 'tis fit
I study my own Ends—They come—Assist me
In these my Undertakings, Love's great Patron,
As my Intents are honest.

[Retires to the Side of the Stage.
Enter Leosthenes and Timagoras.
Leost.
'Tis my Fault,
Distrust of others springs, Timagoras,
From Diffidence in our selves. But I will strive,
With the Assurance of my Worth and Merits,
To kill this Monster, Jealousy.

Timag,
'Tis a Guest,
In Wisdom, never to be entertain'd
On trivial Probabilities; but when
He does appear in pregnant Proofs, not fashion'd
By idle Doubts and Fears, to be receiv'd.
Tho' I prize
Cleora's Honour equal with my own,
'Tis far from my Ambition for her Cure,
That you should wound your self.

Timan.
This argues for me.

[Aside.
Timag.
Why she should be so passionate for a Bond-Man,
Falls not in Compass of my Understanding,
But for some nearer Interest; or he raise
This Mutiny, if he lov'd her (as you say
She does confess he did) but to enjoy,
By fair or foul Play, what he ventur'd for,
To me's a Riddle.

Leost.
Pray you, no more; already
I have answer'd that Objection in my strong
Assurance of her Vertue.

Timag.
'Tis unfit then,
That I should press it farther.

Timan.
Now I must
[Timandra comes forward distractedly.
Make in, or all is lost.

Timag.
What would Timandra?

Leost.
How wild she looks? How is it with thy Lady?

Timan.
O! the best of Ladies, I fear, is gone for ever.

Leost.
Who! Cleora!

Timag.
Deliver how! 'Sdeath, be a Man, Sir! speak.

Timan.
Take it then in as many Sighs as Words:
My Lady—

Timag.
What of her?

Timan.
No sooner heard
Marullo was imprison'd, but she fell
Into a deadly Swoon.

Timag.
But she recover'd. This is unmanly!

Timan.
Brought again to Life,
But with much Labour, she a while stood silent,
Yet in that interim vented Sighs, as if
They labour'd, from the Prison of her Flesh,
To give her griev'd Soul Freedom. On the sudden,
Transported on the Wings of Rage and Sorrow,
She flew out of the House, and, unattended,
Enter'd the common Prison.

Leost.
This confirms
What but before I fear'd.

Timan.
There you may find her,
And if you love her as a Sister—

Timag.
Damn her!

Timan.
Or you respect her Safety as a Lover,
Procure Marullo's Pardon.

Timag.
Impudence
Beyond Expression!

Leost.
Shall I be a Bawd
To her Lust and my Dishonour?

Timan.
She'll run mad else,
Or do some violent Act upon her self.
My Lord, her Father, sensible of her Suff'rings,
Labours to gain his Freedom.

Leost.
O! the Devil!
Has she bewitch'd him too?

Timag.
I'll hear no more:
Come, Sir, we'll follow her; and if no Perwasion
Can make her take again her natural Form,
Which by Lust's powerful Spell she has cast off,
This Sword shall dis-inchant her.

Leost.
O. my Heart-strings!

[Exeunt Leosthenes and Timagoras.
Timan.
I knew 'twould take. Pardon me, fair Cleora,
Tho' I appear a Trayt'ress; which thou wilt do
In pity of my Woes, when I make known
My lawful Claim, and only seek my own.

[Exit.
SCENE A Prison.
Enter Cleora, Jaylor, and Pisander.
Cleora.
There's for your Privacy. Stay, unbind his Hands.

Jaylor.
I dare not, Madam.

Cleora.
I will buy thy Danger:
Take more Gold, do not trouble me with Thanks;
I do suppose it done.

[Exit Jaylor.
Pisan.
My better Angel
Assumes this Shape to comfort me, and wisely,
Since from the Choice of all Cœlestial Figures,
He could not take a visible Form so full
Of glorious Sweetness.

[Kneels.
Cleora.
Rise, I am Flesh and Blood,
And do partake thy Tortures.

Pisan.
Can it be?
That Charity should perswade you to descend
So far from your own Height, as to vouchsafe
To look upon my Suff'rings? How I bless
My Fetters now, and stand ingag'd to Fortune
For my Captivity; no, my Freedom rather!
For who dares think that Place a Prison, which
You sanctify with your Presence?
Do you weep for me?
O, save that precious Balm for nobler Uses!
I am unworthy of the smallest Drop,
Which in your Prodigality of Pity
You throw away on me. I'm justly punish'd
For my Intent of Violence to such Pureness,
And all the Torments Flesh is sensible of,
A soft and gentle Penance.

Cleora.
Which is ended
In this your free Confession.

Enter Leosthenes and Timagoras unseen.
Leost.
What an Object
Have I encounter'd?

Timag.
I am blasted too!
Yet hear a little farther.

Pisan.
Could I expire now,
These white and innocent Hands closing my Eyes,
'Twere not to die, but in a heavenly Dream
To be transported to Elizium.
You make me bold; and but to wish such Happiness,
I fear, may give Offence.

Cleora.
No, for believe it, Marullo,
You have won so much upon me, that I know not
That Happiness in my Gift, but you may challenge.

Leost.
Are you yet satisfy'd?

Cleora.
Nor can you wish,
But what my Vows will second, though it were
Your Freedom first, and that purchas'd.
In what concerns your farther Aims, I speak it,
Do not Despair, but Hope.

Timag.
To have the Hangman,
When he is marry'd to the Cross, in Scorn
To say, Gods give you Joy.

Leost.
And now (but that Grief stops my Speech) imagine,
What Language I should use?

[Goes between 'em.
Cleora.
Against thy self:—
Thy Malice cannot reach me.

Timag.
How!

Cleora.
No, Brother!
Though you join in the Dialogue to accuse me,
I'll justify my Honour!
Though Jealousy use all her Eyes to spy out
One Stain in my Behaviour, or Envy
As many Tongues to wound it;
I can in my Defence alledge such Reasons
As my Accusers shall stand dumb to hear 'em,
When, in his Fetters, this Man's Worth and Vertues,
But truly told, shall shame your boasted Glories,
Which Fortune claims a Share in.

Timag.
The base Villain
Shall never live to bear it.

[Draws, and offers to stab Pisander, Cleora interposes.
Cleora.
Murder! Help!
Through me you shall pass to him.

Enter Archidamus, Diphilus, and Officers.
Archid.
What's the Matter?
On whom is your Sword drawn? You are bold too!
Unhand my Daughter.

Leost.
She's my Valour's Prize.

Archid.
With her Consent, not otherwise. You may urge
Your Title in the Court; if it prove good,
Possess her freely. Guard him safely off too.

Timag.
You'll hear me, Sir?

Archid.
If you have ought to say,
Deliver it in Publick; all shall find
A just Judge of Timoleon.

Diph.
You must,
Of Force, now use your Patience.

[Exeunt Archidamus, Diphilus, and Guards.
Timag.
Vengeance rather!
Whirlwinds of Rage possess me! You are wrong'd
Beyond a Stoick's Suff'rance, yet you stand
As you were rooted.

Leost.
I feel something here,
That boldly tells me, all the Love and Service
I pay Cleora, is another's due,
And therefore cannot prosper.

Timag.
Melancholy!
Which now you must not yield to.

Leost.
'Tis apparent,
In Fact your Sister's innocent, however
Chang'd by her violent Will.

Timag.
If you believe so,
Follow the Chace still; and in open Court
Plead your own Interest: We shall find the Judge
Our Friend, I fear not.

Leost.
Something I shall say,
But what—

Timag.
Collect your self as we walk thither.

[Exeunt.
SCENE The Court of Justice.
Enter Timoleon, Archidamus, Cleon, and Officers.
Timol.
'Tis wonderful strange! nor can it fall within
The Reach of my Belief, a Slave should be
The Owner of a Temperance, which this Age
Can hardly parallel in free-born Lords,
Or Kings, proud of their Purple.

Archid.
'Tis most true;
And though at first it did appear a Fable,
All Circumstances meet to give it Credit;
Which work'd on me, that I am compell'd
To be a Suitor, not to be deny'd,
He may have equal Hearing.

Cleora.
Sir, you grac'd me
With the Title of your Mistress; but my Fortune
Is so far distant from Command, that I
Lay by the Power you gave me, and plead humbly
For the Preserver of my Fame and Honour.
And pray you, Sir, in Charity believe;
That since I had Ability of Speech,
My Tongue has so much been inur'd to Truth,
I know not what the Speech of Falshood is.

Timol.
I'll rather doubt
The Oracles of the Gods, than question what
Your Innocence delivers: And as far
As Justice with my Honour can give Way,
He shall have Favour. Bring him in unbound.
[Exeunt Officers.
And although Leosthenes may challenge from me,
For his late worthy Service, Credit to
All Things he can alledge in his own Cause,
Marullo (so I think you call his Name)
Shall find I do reserve one Ear for him,
To let in Mercy.

Enter Cleon, Asotus, Diphilus, Olympia, and Corisca.
Timol.
Sit and take your Places:
The Right of this fair Virgin first determin'd,
Your Bond-Men shall be censur'd.

Cleon.
With all Rigour,
We do expect.—

Coris.
Temper'd, I say, with Mercy.

Enter at one Door Leosthenes and Timagoras; at the other, Officers with Pisander and Timandra.
Timol.
Your Hand, Leosthenes: I cannot doubt,
You that have been victorious in the War,
Should in a Combat fought with Words come off,
But with assured Triumph.

Leost.
My Deserts, Sir,
(If without Arrogance I may stile them such)
Arm me from Doubt and Fear.

Timol.
'Tis nobly spoken!
Nor be thou daunted (howsoe'er thy Fortune
Has mark'd thee out a Slave) to speak thy Merits.
For Vertue, though in Rags, may challenge more
Than Vice set off with all the Trim of Greatness.

Pisan.
I had rather fall under so just a Judge,
Than be acquitted by a Man corrupt
And partial in his Censure.

Archid.
Note his Language;
It relishes of better Breeding than
His present State dares promise.

Timol.
I observe it.—
Seat the fair Lady in the Midst, that both,
Looking with covetous Eyes upon the Prize
They are to plead for, may, from the fair Object,
Teach Hermes Eloquence.

Leost.
Am I fall'n so low;
My Birth, my Honour, and what's dearest to me,
My Love, and Witness of my Love, my Service,
So undervalu'd, that I must contend
With one, where my Excess of Glory must
Make his O'erthrow a Conquest? Shall my Fulness
Supply Defects in such a Wretch, that never
Knew any Thing but Want and Emptiness?
Give him a Name, and keep it such from this
Unequal Competition. I now turn to you,
Ungrateful Fair One, and since you are such,
'Tis lawful for me to proclaim my self,
And what I have deserv'd.

Cleora.
Neglect and Scorn
From me, for this proud Vaunting.

Leost.
You nourish, Lady,
Your own Dishonour in this harsh Reply,
And almost prove what some hold of your Sex,
That you are made up of Passion: For if Reason
Or Judgment could find Entertainment with you,
I should not need to plead for that, which you
With Joy should offer.—Is my high Birth a Blemish,
Or does my Wealth, which all the vain Expence
Of Women cannot waste, breed Loathing in you?
The Honours I can call my own, thought Scandals?
If you interpret these
As Crimes, 'tis fit I should yield up my self
Most miserably guilty: But, perhaps,
(Which yet I would not credit) you have seen
This Fellow pitch the Bar, or bear a Burden
Would crack the Shoulders of a weaker Bond-man.

Archid.
You are foul-mouth'd.

Cleora.
Ill-manner'd too.

Leost.
I speak
In the Way of Supposition, and intreat you
With all the Fervour of a constant Lover,
That you would free your self from these Aspersions,
Or any Imputation black-tongu'd Slander
Could throw on your unspotted Virgin Whiteness,
To which there is no easier Way, than by
Vouchsafing him in your Favour: Him, to whom
Next to the Gods, and to the General,
The Country owes her Safety.

Timag.
Are you stupid?
Slight, leap into his Arms, and there ask Pardon.—
Oh! you expect your Slaves Reply: no doubt
We shall have a fine Oration: I will teach
My Spaniel to howl in sweeter Language,
And keep a better Method.

Archid.
You forget
The Dignity of the Place.

Diph.
Silence!

Timol.
Speak boldly.

Pisand.
'Tis your Authority gives me a Tongue,
I should be dumb else; and as I am secure,
I cannot cloath my Thoughts and just Defence
In such an abject Phrase, but 'twill appear
Equal, if not above my low Condition.
I bring with me
No Wealth to boast of; neither can I number
Uncertain Fortune's Favours with my Merits:
How I have lov'd, and how much I have suffer'd,
And with what Pleasure undergone the Burden
Of my ambitious Hopes, with my Confession
Of my own Wants, is all that can plead for me.
But if that pure Desires may be thought
Worthy Acceptance, then I dare rise up
And tell this gay Man to his Teeth, I never
Durst doubt her Constancy, that, like a Rock
Beats off Temptations, as that mocks the fury
Of the proud Waves: Nor from my jealous Fears
Question that Goodness, to which, as an Altar
Of all Perfection, he that truly loves
Should rather bring a Sacrifice of Service,
Than raze it with the Engines of Suspicion:
Of which, when he can wash an Æthiope white,
Leosthenes may hope to free himself;
But 'till then, never.

Timag.
Bold, presumptuous Villain!

Pisand.
I will go farther, and make good upon him,
In the Pride of all his Honours, Birth, and Fortunes,
He's more unworthy than my self.

Leost.
Thou lyest.

Timag.
Confute him with a Whip; and the Doubt decided,
Punish him with a Halter.

Pisand.
Oh! the Gods!
My Ribs, tho' made of Steel, cannot contain
My Heart, swoln big with Rage.—The Lye! Whip?
[Plucks off his Disguise.
Let Fury then disperse these Clouds, in which
I long have mask'd, disguis'd; that when they know
Whom they have injur'd, they may faint with Horror
Of my Revenge, which wretched Men expect
As sure as Fate to suffer.—Know then,
I am no more Marullo, but Pisander!

Leost.
Ha! Pisander!

Timag.
'Tis the bold Theban!

Asot.
There's no Hope for me then:
I thought I should have put in for a Share,
And borne Cleora from 'em both; but now
This Stranger looks so terrible, that I dare not
So much as look on her.

Pisand.
Now as my self,
Thy Equal at the best, Leosthenes.—
For you, Timagoras, praise Heav'n, you were born
Cleora's Brother; 'tis your safest Armour.—
But I lose Time.—The base Lye cast upon me
I thus return: Thou art a perjur'd Man,
False and perfidious, and hast made a Tender
Of Love and Service to this Lady, when
Thy Soul (if thou hast any) can bear Witness
That thou wert not thy own.—For Proof of this,
Look better on this Virgin, and consider
This Persian Shape laid by, and she appearing
In a Greekish Dress, such as when first you saw her,
If she resemble not Pisander's Sister,
One call'd Statilia?

Leost.
'Tis the same! My Guilt
So choaks my Spirits, I cannot deny
My Falshood, nor excuse it.

Pisand.
This is she
To whom thou wert contracted: This the Lady,
That when thou wert my Prisoner fairly taken
In the Spartan War, that begg'd thy Liberty,
And with it gave herself to thee, ungrateful!

Timand.
No more, Sir, I intreat you: I perceive
True Sorrow in his Looks, and a Consent
To make me Reparation in mine Honour,
And then I am most happy.

Pisand.
The Wrong done her
Drew me from Thebes with full Intent to kill thee:
But this fair Object met me in my Fury,
And quite disarm'd me.—Being deny'd to have her
By you, my Lord Archidamus, and not able
To live far from her, Love (the Mistress of
All quaint Devices) prompted me to treat
With a Friend of mine, who as a Pirate sold me
For a Slave to you my Lord, and gave my Sister
As a Present to Cleora.

Timol.
Strange Meanders!

Pisand.
There how I have born my self needs no Relation.
But if so far descending from the Heighth
Of my then flourishing Fortunes, to the lowest
Condition of a Man, to have Means only
To feed my Eye with the Sight of what I honour'd;
The Dangers too I underwent; the Suff'rings;
The Clearness of my Interest may deserve
A noble Recompence in your lawful Favour.—
Now 'tis apparent that Leosthenes
Can claim no Interest in you; you may please
To think upon my Service.

Cleor.
Sir, my want
Of Power to satisfy so great a Debt,
Makes me accuse my Fortune; but if that
Out of the Bounty of your Mind, you think
A free Surrender of my self full Payment,
I gladly tender it.

Archid.
With my Consent too,
All Injuries forgotten.

Timag.
I will study
In my future Service to deserve your Favour
And good Opinion.

Leost.
Thus I gladly see
This Advocate to plead for me.

Pisand.
You will find me
An easy Judge: When I have yielded Reasons
Of your Bond-mens falling off from their Obedience,
Then after, as you please, determine of me.
I found their Natures apt to mutiny
From your too cruel Usage, and made Trial
How far they might be wrought on; to instruct you
To look with more Prevention and Care
To what they may hereafter undertake
Upon the like Occasions.—The Hurt's little
They have committed; nor was ever Cure
But with some Pain effected. I confess,
In hope to force a Grant of fair Cleora,
I urg'd them to defend the Town against you:
Nor had the Terror of your Whips, but that
I was preparing for Defence elsewhere,
So soon got Entrance.—In this I am guilty,
Now, as you please, your Censure.

Timol.
Bring them in;
And tho' you have giv'n me Power, I do intreat
Such as have undergone their Insolence,
It may not be offensive, tho' I study
Pity more than Revenge.

Coris.
'Twill best become you.

Cleon.
I must consent.

Asot.
For me, I'll find a Time
To be reveng'd hereafter.

Enter Poliphron, Gracculo, Cimbrio, Zanthia, and the other Slaves, with Halters about their Necks.
Grac.
Give me Leave,
I'll speak for all.

Timol.
What can'st thou say to hinder
The Course of Justice?

Grac.
Nothing.—You may see
We are prepar'd for Hanging, and confess
We have deserv'd it. Our most humble Suit is
We may not twice be executed.

Timol.
Twice? How mean'st thou!

Grac.
At the Gallows first, and after in a Ballad
Sung to some villainous Tune.
There are Ten groat Rhimers
About the Town, grown fat on these Occasions.—
Let but a Chapel fall, or a Street be fir'd,
A foolish Lover hang himself for pure Love,
Or any such like Accident, and before
They are cold in their Graves, some damn'd Ditty's made
Which makes their Ghosts walk.—
Let the State take Order
For the Redress of this Abuse, recording
'Twas done by my Advice; and for my Part
I'll cut as clean a Caper from the Ladder,
As ever merry Greek did.

Timol.
Yet I think
You would shew more Activity to delight
Your Master for a Pardon.

Grac.
Oh! I would dance,
As I were all Air and Fire.

Timol.
And ever be
Obedient and Humble.

Grac.
As his Spaniel,
Tho' he kick'd me for Exercise; and the like
I promise for all the rest.

Timol.
Rise then, you have it.

All Slaves.
Timoleon! Timoleon!

Timol.
Cease these Clamours.—
And now the War being ended to our Wishes,
And such as went the Pilgrimage of Love,
Happy in full Fruition of their Hopes,
'Tis lawful Thanks paid to the Pow'rs Divine,
To drown your Cares in honest Mirth and Revels.

A Dance.
Cleor.
From a stern Master's Bonds you now are free,
How will you bear agen new Chains with me?

Pisand.
In fair Cleora's Chains is Liberty.