University of Virginia Library

Act II.

Scene I.

Enter Archidamus, Timagoras, Leosthenes, and Pisander with Archidamus's Sword, &c.
Archid.
So, so, 'tis well: How do I look?

Pisan.
Most sprightly, Sir.

Archid.
I shrink not in the Shoulders, tho' I am old;
I am tough, Steel to the Back; I have not wasted
My Stock of Strength in Feather-Beds: Here's an Arm too,
There's Stuff in't, and I hope will use a Sword
As well as any beardless Boy of you all.

Timag.
I am glad to see you, Sir, so well prepar'd
To endure the Travail of the War.

Archid.
Go to, Sirrah,
I shall endure, when some of you keep your Cabins,
For all your flanting Feathers—nay, Leosthenes,
You are welcome too; all Friends and Fellows now.

Leost.
Your Servant, Sir.

Archid.
Pish, leave these Complements,
They stink in a Soldier's Mouth, I could be merry,
For now my Gown's off, farewel Gravity.
I must be bold to put a Question to you,
Without Offence, I hope.

Leost.
Sir, what you please.

Archid.
And you will answer truly?

Timag.
On our Words, Sir.

Archid.
Go to, then, I presume you will confess,
That you are two notorious Whore-masters
Nay, spare your blushing, I've been wild myself,
A Smatch, or so, for Physick, does no Harm:
Nay, it is Physick, if us'd moderately,
But to lie at Rack and Manger.

Leost.
Say we should grant this,
(For if we should deny it, you'l not believe us,)
What will you infer from it?

Archid.
What you'l groan for,
I fear, when you come to the Test.
Old Stories tell us
There is a Month call'd October, which brings in
Cold Weather; there are Trenches too, 'tis rumour'd,
In which, to stand all Night to the Knees in Water,
In Gallants breeds the Tooth-ach; there's a Sport too,
Nam'd, Lying Perdieu, (do you mark me?) 'tis a Game,
Which you must learn to play at; now in these Seasons,
(And choice Variety of Exercises)
Your rambling Hunt-smock feels strange Alterations,
And in a frosty Morning looks as if
He could with Ease creep in a Pottle-pot
Instead of his Mistress's Placket—then he curses
The Time spent in Midnight Visitations,
And finds, what he superfluously parted with,
If retriev'd into his Back again,
Would keep him warmer than a Scarlet Wastecoat,
Or an Armour lin'd with Furr.
Enter Diphilus and Cleora.
O welcome, welcome!
You have cut off my Discourses, but I will perfect
My Lecture in the Camp.

Diph.
Come, we are stay'd for;
The General's on Fire for a Remove,
And longs to be in Action.

Archid.
'Tis my Wish too.
We must part. Nay, no Tears, my best Cleora;
I shall melt too, and that were ominous:
Millions of Blessings on thee; all that's mine
I give up to thy Charge; and, Sirrah, look
You with that Care and Reverence observe her,
As you would pay to me;—One Kiss, farewel, Girl!
Come, to the Wars, Gentlemen.

Diph.
Peace wait upon you, fair one.

[Ex. Archid. Diph. and Pisander.
Timag.
'Twere Impertinence
To wish you to be careful of your Honour,
That ever keep in Pay a Guard about you
Of faithful Vertues—Farewel, Friend, I leave you
To wipe our Kisses off: I know that Lovers
Part with more Circumstance and Ceremony,
Which I give Way to.

[Exit Timag.
Leost.
'Tis a noble Favour,
For which I ever owe you—We are alone,
But how I should begin, or in what Language
Speak the unwilling Word of parting from you,
I am yet to learn.

Cleora,
And still continue ignorant;
For I must be most cruel to my self,
If I should teach you.

Leost.
Shall I stay at Home then?

Cleora,
No, that must not be;
For so to serve my own Ends, and to gain
A petty Wreath myself, I rob you of
A certain Triumph, which must fall upon you.
Or Vertue's turn'd a Handmaid to blind Fortune:
How is my Soul divided! to confirm you
In the Opinion of the World, most worthy
To be belov'd: With me you are at the Height,
And can advance no farther; I must send you
To court the Goddess of stern War, who, if
She see you with my Eyes, will ne'er return you,
But grow enamour'd of you.

Leost.
Sweet, take Comfort,
And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me,
Or I am wretched; all the Dangers that
I can encounter in the War, are Trifles;
My Enemies abroad to be contemn'd;
The dreadful Foes that have Pow'r to hurt me,
I leave at Home with you.

Cleor.
With me?

Leost.
Nay, in you,
In every Part of you they are arm'd
To sight against me.

Cleor.
Where?

Leost.
There's no Perfection
That you are Mistress of, but musters up
A Legion against me, and all sworn
To my Destruction.

Cleor.
This is strange!

Leost.
But true, Sweet:
Excess of Love can work such Miracles.
Upon this Ivory Forehead are intrench'd
Ten thousand Rivals; and should I but name
Such as the Virtues of your Mind invite,
Their Numbers would be infinite.

Cleor.
Can you think
I may be tempted?

Leost.
You were never prov'd.
For me, I have convers'd with you no farther
Than would become a Brother. I ne'er tun'd
Loose Notes to your chaste Ears; or brought rich Presents,
For my Artillery to batter down
The Fortress of your Honour; never practis'd
The cunning and corrupting Arts they study,
That wander in the Maze of wild Desire:
Honest Simplicity and Truth were all
The Agents I employ'd; and when I came
To see you, it was with that Reverence
As I beheld the Altars of the Gods.

Cleor.
And 'twas
That Modesty that took me, and preserves me,
Like a fresh Rose in my own nat'ral Sweetness;
Which, sully'd with the Touch of impure Hands,
Had made me lose both Scent and Beauty.

Leost.
But, Cleora,
When I am absent, as I must go from you,
(Such is my cruel Fate) and leave you,
Unguarded to the violent Assaults
Of loose Temptations; when the Memory
Of my so many Years of Love and Service
Is lost in other Objects; when you are courted
By such as keep a Catalogue of their Conquests.
Won upon credulous Virgins: When nor Father
Is here to awe you, Brother to advise you,
Nor your poor Servant by, to keep such off,
By Love instructed how to undermine,
And blow your Chastity up; when your weak Senses,
At once assaulted, shall conspire against you,
How can you stand? Faith, tho' you fall, and I
The Judge, before whom you then stood accus'd,
I should acquit you.

Cleor.
Come, 'tis not well:
But being to part, I will not chide, I will not,
Not with one Syllable, or Tear, express
How deeply I am wounded with the Arrows
Of your Distrust: But when that you shall hear
At your Return, how I have borne myself,
And what an austere Penance I take on me,
To satisfy your Doubts: When, like a Vestal,
I shew you, to your Shame, the Fire still burning,
Committed to my Charge by true Affection,
The People joining with you in the Wonder:
When, by the glorious Splendor of my Suff'rings,
The prying Eyes of Jealousy are struck blind,
The Monster too, that feeds on Fear, ev'n starv'd
For want of seeming Matter to accuse me,
Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp Reproof
From my just Anger.

Leost.
What will you do?

Cleor.
Obey me in what I do now enjoin,
Or from this Minute you're a Stranger to me;
And do it without Reply: All-seeing Sun,
Thou Witness of my Innocence, thus I close
My Eyes against thy comfortable Light,
'Till the Return of this distrustful Man.
Now bind 'em sure—nay, do't.
[Binds her Eyes.
If uncompell'd
I loose this Knot, until the Hands that made it,
Be pleas'd to untie it, may all the dire Calamities,
Due to the Crime of Perjury, fall heavy on me.
Now guide me to your Lips—
This Kiss, when you come back, shall be a Virgin,
To bid you Welcome: Nay, this is not all my Vow,
I will continue dumb, and you once gone,
No Accent shall come from me. Now to my Chamber;
My Tomb, if you miscarry: There I'll spend
My Hours in silent Mourning, and thus much
Shall be reported of me to my Glory,
And you confess it too, let me live or die,
My Truth shall triumph o'er your Jealousy.

[Exeunt.
Enter Asotus, driving in Gracculo.
Asot.
You Slave! you Dog! down, Cur.

Grac.
Hold, good young Master,
For Pity's Sake.

Asot.
Now am I in my Kingdom.
Who says I am not valiant? I begin
To frown again; quake, you Dog! or—

Grac.
So I do, Sir;
Your Looks are Agues to me.

Asot.
Are they so, Sir,
'Slight, if I had them at this Bay, that flout me,
And say I look like a Sheep and an Ass, I'd make 'em
Feel—that I am a Lion.

Grac.
Do not roar, Sir,
As you are a valiant Beast—But do you know
Why you use me thus?

Asot.
I'll beat thee a little more,
Then study for a Reason—O! I have it;
One brake a Jest on me, and then I swore,
(Because I durst not strike him) when Home I came,
That I would break thy Head.

Grac.
Pox on his Mirth,
I am sure I mourn for't.

Asot.
Remember too, I charge you
To teach my Horse good Manners; for this Morning,
As I rode to take the Air, th'untutor'd Jade
Threw me, and kick'd me.

Grac.
I thank him for't.

Asot.
What's that?

Grac.
I say, Sir, I'll teach him to hold his Heels,
If you will hold your Fingers.

Asot.
I'll think upon't.

Grac.
I am bruis'd to Jelly—Better be a Dog,
Than a Slave to a Fool or Coward.

Asot.
Here's my Mother.
Enter Corisca and Zanthia.
She is chastising too—How brave we live
That have our Slaves to beat, to keep us in Breath,
When we want Exercise?

Coris.
Careless Harlotry,
[Striking her,
Look to't, if a Curl fall, or Wind, or Sun
Take my Complexion off, I will not leave
One Hair upon thy Head.

Grac.
Here's a second Show
Of the Family of Pride.

Corisc.
Fie on these Wars,
I am starv'd for want of Action; not a Gamester left
To keep a Woman play:
They have made my Doctor too
Physician to the Army: He was us'd
To serve the Turn at a Pinch; but I am now
Quite unprovided.

Asot.
My Mother-in-Law is sure
At her Devotion.

[Aside.]
Coris.
There are none but our Slaves left;
Nor are they to be trusted.—Some great Women
(Which I could name) in a Dearth of Visitants,
Rather than be idle, have been glad to play
At small Game; but I am so squeasy stomach'd,
And from my Youth have been so us'd to Dainties,
I cannot taste such gross Meat.

Asot.
Fair Madam, and my Mother.

Coris.
Leave the last out; it smells rank of the Country,
And shews course Breeding: Your true Courtier knows not
His Niece or Sister from another Woman,
If she be apt and cunning.—I could tempt now
This Fool; but he will be so long a working:
Then he's my Husband's Son: The fitter to
Supply his Wants, I have the Way already:
I'll try if it will take.—When were you with
Your Mistress, fair Cleora.

Asot.
Two Days since;
But she's so coy, forsooth, that ere I can
Speak a penn'd Speech I have bought and study'd for her,
Her Woman calls her away.

Coris.
Here's a dull Thing;
But better taught I hope.—Send off your Man.

Asot.
Sirrah, be gone.

Grac.
This is the first good Turn
She ever did me.

[Aside.]
Exit Gracculo.
Coris.
We'll have a Scene of Mirth;
I must not have you sham'd for want of Practice:
I stand here for Cleora, and do you hear Minion,
(That you may tell her what her Woman should do)
Repeat the Lesson over that I taught you
When my young Lord came to visit me; if you miss
In a Syllable or Posture!—

Zant.
I am perfect.

Asot.
Would I were so; I fear I shall be out.

Coris.
If you are, I'll help you in: Thus I walk musing.
You are to enter; and as you pass by,
Salute my Woman:—Be but bold enough,
You'll speed I warrant you; begin.

Asot.
Have at it—
'Save thee, Sweetheart—A Kiss.

Zant.
Venus forbid, Sir,
I should presume to taste your Honour's Lips
Before my Lady.

Coris.
This is well on both Parts.

Asot.
How does thy Lady?

Zant.
Happy in your Lordship,
As often as she thinks on you.

Coris.
Very good;
This Wench will learn in Time.

Asot.
Does she think of me?

Zant.
O Sir! and speaks the best of you; admires
Your Wit, your Cloaths, Discourse; and swears, but that
You are not forward enough for a Lord, you were
The most compleat and absolute Man:—I'll shew
Your Lordship a Secret.

Asot.
What, of thy own?

Zant.
Oh! no, Sir;
Tis of my Lady; but upon your Honour
You must conceal it.

Asot.
By all Means.—

Zant.
Sometimes
I lie with my Lady, as the last Night I did:
She could not say her Pray'rs for thinking of you;
Nay, she talk'd of you in her Sleep, and sigh'd out,
O sweet Asotus, sure thou art so backward,
That I must ravish thee. And in that Fervour
She took me in her Arms,
Kiss'd me, and hugg'd me, and then wak'd, and wept,
Because 'twas but a Dream.

Coris.
This will bring him on,
Or he's a Block.—A good Girl!

Asot.
I am mad
'Till I am at it.

Zant.
Be not put off, Sir,
With Away, I dare not; Fie, you are immodest:
My Brother's up; My Father will hear—Shoot Home,
Sir, you cannot miss the Mark.

Asot.
There's for thy Counsel:
[Gives her Money.
This is the fairest Interlude; if it prove earnest,
I shall wish I were a Player.

Coris.
Now my Turn comes.—
I am exceeding sick; pray you, send my Page
For young Asotus; I cannot live without him:
Pray him to visit me; yet when he's present
I must be strange to him.

Asot.
Not so; you, are caught:
Lo! whom you wish behold Asotus here!

Coris.
You wait well, Minion; shortly I shall not speak
My Thoughts in my private Chamber, but they must
Lie open to Discovery.

Asot.
'Slid she's angry.

Zant.
No, no, Sir; she but seems so.—To her again.

Asot.
Lady, I would descend to kiss your Hand,
But that 'tis glov'd, and Civet makes me sick;
And to presume to taste your Lips, not safe,
Your Woman by.

Coris.
She's no Observer
Of whom I grace.

[Zant. goes to the Table and seems to read.
Asot.
She's at her Book, O rare!

[Kisses her.
Coris.
A Kiss for Entertainment is sufficient:
Too much of one Dish cloys me.

Asot.
I would serve in
The second Course; but still I fear your Woman.

Coris.
You are very cautious.

[Zant. seems to sleep.
Asot.
'Slight, she's asleep!
'Tis Pity these Instructions are not printed;
They would sell well to Chamber-Maids.—'Tis no Time now
To play with my good Fortune and your Favour;
Yet to be taken, as they say.—A Scout
To give the Signal when the Enemy comes
[Zanthia rises up hastily and goes out.
Were now worth Gold.—She's gone to watch.—
A Waiter so train'd up were worth a Million
To a wanton City Lady.

Coris.
You are grown conceited.

Asot.
You teach me.—Lady, now to your Chamber.

Coris.
You speak as it were yours.

Asot.
When we are there,
I'll show you my best Evidence.

Coris.
Hold! you forget;
I only play Cleora's Part.

Asot.
No matter;
Now we have begun, let's end the Act.

Coris.
Forbear, Sir!
Your Father's Wife?

Asot.
Why, being Heir, I am bound,
Since he can make no Satisfaction to you,
To see his Debts paid?

Enter Zanthia running.
Zant.
Madam, my Lord!

Coris.
Fall off;
I must trifle with the Time too!

Asot.
Pox on his toothless Chaps! He cannot do't
Himself, yet hinders such as have good Stomachs.

Enter Cleon.
Cleon.
Where are you, Wife? I fain would go Abroad,
But cannot find my Slaves that bear my Litter:
I am tir'd: Your Shoulder, Son; nay, Sweet, thy Hand too;
A Turn or too in the Garden, and then to Supper,
And so to Bed.

Asot.
Never to rise more, I hope.

[Exeunt.
SCENE draws, and discovers Pisander, Poliphron, Cimbrio, Gracculo, and other Slaves at a Table, drinking.
Pisand.
'Twill take, I warrant thee.

Polip.
You may do your Pleasure;
But, in my Judgment, better to make Use of
The present Opportunity.

Pisand.
No more.

Polip.
I am silenc'd.

Pisand.
More Wine:
Come! let's have a Song to cheer our Hearts.
[A Song.
'Pray thee drink hard, Friend,
And when we are hot, whatever I propound,
Second with Vehemency:
Slaves use no Ceremony; sit down, here's a Health.

Polip.
Let it go round; fill every Man his Glass.

Grac.
We look for no Waiters; this is Wine.

Pisand.
The better, strong lusty Wine;
Drink deep: This Juice will make us
As free as our Lords.

[drinks.
Grac.
But if they find we taste it,
We are all damn'd to the Quarry during Life,
Without Hope of Redemption.

Pisan.
Pish! for that
We'll talk anon; another Rouse, we lose Time.
[drinks.
These Glasses contain nothing;
[Takes the Bottle.
Do me right
As e're you hope for Liberty.
[All drink.
'Tis bravely done,
How do you feel your selves now?

Cimb.
I begin
To have strange Conundrums in my Head.

Grac.
And I to loath base Water:
I would be hang'd in Peace now
For one Month of such Holy-days.

Pisand.
An Age, Boys,
And yet defy the Whip; if you are Men,
Or dare believe you have Souls.

Cimb.
We are no Brokers.

Grac.
Nor Whores, whose Marks are out of their Mouths:
They hardly can get Salt enough to keep 'em
From stinking above Ground.

Pisand.
Our Masters are no Gods?

Grac.
They are Devils to us, I am sure.

Pisand.
But subject to
Cold, Hunger, and Diseases.

Grac.
In abundance:
Your Lord, that feels no Ach in his Chine at Twenty,
Forfeits his Privilege; how should their Surgeon build else,
Or ride in their own Coaches.

Pisand.
Equal Nature fashion'd us
All in one Mold: The Bear serves not the Bear,
Nor the Wolf the Wolf:
Why then (since we are taught by their Examples
To love our Liberty)
Should the Strong serve the Weak,
Or such as know the Cause of Things, pay Tribute
To ignorant Fools? All's but the outward Gloss
And Politick Form that does distinguish us.
Cymbrio, thou art a strong Man; if in Place
Of carrying Burdens, thou hadst been train'd up
In Martial Discipline, thou might'st have prov'd
A General, fit to lead and fight for Sicily,
As fortunate as Timoleon.

Cimb.
A little Fighting
Will serve a General's Turn.

Pisand.
Thou, Gracculo,
Hast Fluency of Language, quick Conceit;
And I think, cover'd with a Senator's Robe,
Formally set on the Bench, thou would'st appear
As brave a Senator.

Grac.
Would I had Lands,
Or Money to buy a Place; and if I did not
Sleep on the Bench with the drowsiest of 'em,
Play with my Chain,
Look on the Clock when my Guts chim'd Twelve,
And rank with 'em
In their most choice peculiar Gifts, degrade me,
And put me to drink Water again, which (now
I have tasted Wine) were Poison.

Pisand.
'Tis nobly spoke,
And like a Gown-man—None of these, I think too,
But would prove good Burghers.

Grac.
Hum! The Fools are modest;
I know their Insides.—Here's an ill-fac'd Fellow,
(But that will not be seen in a dark Shop)
If he did not in a Month learn to out-swear,
In the selling of his Wares, the cunning'st Tradesman
In Syracusa, I have no Skill.—Here's another,
Observe but what a cos'ning Look he has,
(Hold up thy Head, Man) if for drawing Gallants
Into Mortgages for Commodities, cheating Heirs,
He does not transcend all that went before him,
Call in his Patent.

Pisand.
Is't not Pity then,
Men of such eminent Vertues should be Slaves?

Cimb.
'Tis our hard Fortune!

Pisand.
'Tis your Folly.—Daring Men
Command, and make their Fates.—Say, at this Instant
I mark'd you out a Way to Liberty;
Possess'd you of those Blessings our proud Lords
So long have surfeited in; and, what is sweetest,
Arm you with Pow'r, by strong Hand t'avenge
Your Stripes; your unregarded Toil, the Pride,
The Insolence of such as tread upon
Your patient Suff'ring; fill your famish'd Mouths
With the Fat and Plenty of the Land; redeem you
From the dark Vale of Servitude, and seat you
Upon a Hill of Happiness: What would you do
To purchase this, and more?

Grac.
Do any Thing,
To burn a Church or two, and dance by the Light on't,
Were but a May-game.

Poliph.
I have a Father living,
But if the Cutting of his Throat could work this,
He should excuse me,

Cimb.
'Slife, I would cut my own
Rather than miss it, so I might but have
A Taste on't e're I die.

Pisan.
Be resolute Men;
You shall run no such Hazard, nor groan under
The Burden of such crying Sins.

Cimb.
The Means?

Grac.
I feel a Woman's Longing.

Polip.
Do not torment us
With Expectation.

Pisan.
Thus then; Our proud Masters,
And all the able Freemen of the City
Are gone unto the Wars.

Poliph.
Observe but that!

Pisan.
Old Men, and such as can make no Resistance,
Are only left at Home.

Grac.
And the proud young Fool
My Master.—If this take, I'll hamper him.

Pisan.
Their Arsenal, their Treasure's in our Pow'r,
If we have Hearts to seize 'em; if our Lords fall
In the present Action, the whole Country's ours.
Say they return victorious, we have Means
To keep the Town against them; at the worst,
To make our own Conditions. Now, if you dare,
Fall on their Daughters and their Wives, break up
Their Iron Chests, banquet on their rich Beds,
And carve your selves of all Delights and Pleasures
You have been barr'd from: With one Voice cry with me,
Liberty, Liberty!

All.
Liberty, Liberty!

Pisan
Be firm and follow me, and take Possession:
Use all Freedom, but shed no Blood.—
So, this is well begun,
But not to be applauded till't be done.

[Exeunt omnes, crying, Liberty.