University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

—Sir Valentine's House.
Enter Sir Valentine.
Sir Val.
Oh, pitiable case! so rich a stamp,
And yet the metal base! For what high things
Did nature fashion her!—whose rich intent
Had she but half fulfill'd, no wealth, no state
That earth can furnish, for aggrandizement
Of craving and insatiate ambition,
Conferr'd on her, had given her half her due,
Far less its debtor made her! Misery!
To find the good we hoped, the bane we hate
Hate!—O, perverse and doubtful course of love,
That in the goal, it pants for, finds its grave!
That reaches for a bliss, and clasps a pang!
That thinks it owns a mine, and finds it none!
O beggary most poor, that from the lapse
Of heap'd-up riches grows!

Enter Servant.
Servant.
You are wanted, sir.

Sir Val.
Who wants me?

Servant.
One who brings an errand from
Sir William Sutton, and craves speech with you.

Sir Val.
Admit him.
[Servant goes out.
Enter Clever.
Well?

Clever.
Are you the man they call
Sir Valentine de Grey?

Sir Val.
The man?

Clever.
The man.

Sir Val.
I see!—I am Sir Valentine de Grey.

Clever.
Then, being he, another man they call
Sir William Sutton, sends me here to pray
Thy company this afternoon, to meet
Some friends who dine with him at Greenwich.

Sir Val.
Say,
I cannot come.

Clever.
Art thou engaged, friend?

Sir Val.
No.

Clever.
Then speak'st thou not the truth. Thou canst come.

Sir Val.
Say,
I will not come.

Clever.
He bade me say to thee
Thou must come.

Sir Val.
Must come?

Clever.
Yes; so come along.
For he gave charge to me to bring thee—and
I said I would; and not to bring thee, were
To break my word, and I must keep my word.

Sir Val.
Tell him, I was not in.

Clever.
I will not tell
A lie.

Sir Val.
Art thou his servant?

Clever.
No; but man
To one that's niece to him—that's, in the flesh—
Not in the spirit.

Sir Val.
Wherefore?

Clever.
Know'st thou him,
And know'st thou not he is a man of sin?
Ruth Mapleson is of the faithful!

Sir Val.
Who?

Clever.
Ruth Mapleson.

Sir Val.
I know no niece he hath,
Save one—fair Mistress Sutton.

Clever.
Name her not—
Daughter of darkness!

Sir Val.
Liar!

Clever.
Thou dost lie
To call me so.

Sir Val.
Wretch!

Clever.
Thou dost lie again.
I am a godly and a happy man,
That waits upon Ruth Mapleson, the niece
Of him they call Sir William Sutton; and
Cousin to Hero Sutton, whom in naught
Ruth Mapleson resembles—face and form
Excepted; wherein she might pass for her,
She is so like her!

Sir Val.
Like her! Saidst thou like her?

Clever.
Now that's hypocrisy! Thou heard me say it.
Like her in voice, complexion, feature—so
Put sober Ruth in giddy Hero's dress,
Thee'dst swear—What did I say—Young man, this comes
Of evil communication.

Sir Val.
Well?

Clever.
Thee'dst say,
'Twas giddy Hero's self, though all the while
'Twas sober Ruth thee saw'st.

Sir Val.
Incredible!

Clever.
Young man, thee keepest company that speak
One thing and think another! That's my hand;
I take't away, and show it thee again:
Is it another hand?

Sir Val.
Knave, 'tis the same.

Clever.
Miscall me not, friend! Knave is not my name,
But Obadiah. Use me civilly,
That do instruct thee, who art ignorant.
Not more in verity is that hand the same,
Than is Ruth Mapleson, in perfect likeness
Of feature, figure, voice, complexion, all
That makes the outward woman—just the same,
As Hero Sutton! But, alas, within,
Winter and summer are not less akin!

Sir Val.
How, knave?

Clever.
I told thee not to call me “knave:”
My name is Obadiah.

Sir Val.
Obadiah
I'll call thee then. How are these cousins as
Unlike, as winter is to summer?

Clever.

Thus.—Is winter barren? so is the maiden Hero;—
Is it made up of fogs and rain? so is the maiden Hero, of
vapours and the spleen;—Hath it much cloud and little sun? so
hath the maiden Hero great discontent, small content;—Hath
it long night, and brief day? so hath the maiden Hero lasting
displeasure, short favour;—Is there any depending upon it? no
more is there upon the maiden Hero;—Do you wish it heartily
away? so would you be rid of the maiden Hero.

Sir Val.
I fear thou art a slanderer.

Clever.
I see
Thou lack'st good manners, which is grievous, friend,
In one of thy degree. Thou callest names
As scavengers that quarrel in the streets,
Most unbecomingly!

Sir Val.
Well; now proceed.
What of her cousin?

Clever.
Though a godly man,
Yet am I flesh and blood, and thou dost vex
My spirit, friend, by so misusing me.
I tell thee once again, my name is not
Liar, nor knave, nor slanderer, nor aught
But Obadiah.

Sir Val.
Well—enough of that;
Her cousin? Come! Her cousin?

Clever.
Though I am
A man of peace, I am a valiant man.
I combat not, but yet the elements
Of war are given me, friend! I am full of them,
Save what is in me of the goodly thing
That mortifies the flesh, and keeps them in
Subjection! Yea, I am a warlike man!
Yea, verily, a very warlike man!

Sir Val.
I ask thy pardon.

Clever.
I do grant it thee;
Thou dost a proper thing; and now shalt hear,
Wherein the maiden Ruth, who outwardly,
Is to the maiden Hero what that maiden
Is to herself, is, inwardly, reverse
As summer is to winter.

Sir Val.
Prithee on!

Clever.

Is summer fertile? is summer clear? hath it little
cloud, and much sun; long day, and short night—and that
more like day, than night? is summer constant, and do you
wish it never away? so is the maiden Ruth bounteous; so is
the maiden Ruth cheerful; so hath she twenty smiles for one
frown; lasting favour, brief displeasure—which you would
almost take to be favour; so is she little liable to change; so
would you wish to have her ever with you!

Sir Val.

Where dwells this cousin?

Clever.

In Greenwich, friend, whither thou goest; not in
the same house with him that sends for thee—for light dwelleth
not with darkness—but in another habitation, where her books,
and her flowers, and her own sweet thoughts, which are fairer
and wiser than either, are her only companions.

Sir Val.

I'll go with thee to Greenwich straight! Lead on!

Clever.

Hold, friend!—You must do all things soberly.

[They go out, Clever preceding with extreme gravity.