EnterVelascoandOniate.
Oni.My lord, it shows a happy discipline,Where the obedient soldier yields respectTo such severe commands, now when victoryGives licence to disorder.Vel.Sir, our general,The Lord Florentio, is a glorious masterIn th' art of war: and though time makes him notWise at th' expense of weakness or diseases, yetI have beheld him by the easy motionBut of his eye repress sedition,When it contemned the frown of majesty;For never he who by his prince's smileStood great at court attained such love and aweWith that fierce viper, the repining people.Oni.Our kingdom owes its safety to that power.For how dejected look'd our magistratesWhen conquest gave admittance to the soldier!But how their fears forsook them when they sawYour entry with such silence!Vel.Sir, CastileAim'd not at spoil or ruin in this war,But to redress that insolence your queenDid suffer under in Decastro's pride.Oni.And yet auxiliaries oft turn their swordsTo ruin whom they come to rescue.Vel.The barbarous keep no faith in vows: but we—We of Castile, though flattering advantagePersuade to perjury, have still observ'dFriendship inviolate, no nation suffering,To which we give our oath.Oni.You speak, my lord,Your glories nobly. And it is our joy,Your general's wound but frighted us.Vel.The surgeonsAffirm there is no danger, and have licensedHis visit to the queen.Oni.'Tis thought, howe'er,His love had not obey'd such a restraint,Though death had threaten'd him. But in his healthConsists the common safety, since those forcesDecastro in the morning did expect,Ere you the town assaulted, are discover'd,To which he fled, expell'd the city.Vel.Sir,We shall contemn, and with ease break that army,Whose general we have vanquished, having wonThe city and your queen into our power.
Oni.My lord, it shows a happy discipline,Where the obedient soldier yields respectTo such severe commands, now when victoryGives licence to disorder.
Vel.Sir, our general,The Lord Florentio, is a glorious masterIn th' art of war: and though time makes him notWise at th' expense of weakness or diseases, yetI have beheld him by the easy motionBut of his eye repress sedition,When it contemned the frown of majesty;For never he who by his prince's smileStood great at court attained such love and aweWith that fierce viper, the repining people.
Oni.Our kingdom owes its safety to that power.For how dejected look'd our magistratesWhen conquest gave admittance to the soldier!But how their fears forsook them when they sawYour entry with such silence!
Vel.Sir, CastileAim'd not at spoil or ruin in this war,But to redress that insolence your queenDid suffer under in Decastro's pride.
Oni.And yet auxiliaries oft turn their swordsTo ruin whom they come to rescue.
Vel.The barbarous keep no faith in vows: but we—We of Castile, though flattering advantagePersuade to perjury, have still observ'dFriendship inviolate, no nation suffering,To which we give our oath.
Oni.You speak, my lord,Your glories nobly. And it is our joy,Your general's wound but frighted us.
Vel.The surgeonsAffirm there is no danger, and have licensedHis visit to the queen.
Oni.'Tis thought, howe'er,His love had not obey'd such a restraint,Though death had threaten'd him. But in his healthConsists the common safety, since those forcesDecastro in the morning did expect,Ere you the town assaulted, are discover'd,To which he fled, expell'd the city.
Vel.Sir,We shall contemn, and with ease break that army,Whose general we have vanquished, having wonThe city and your queen into our power.
EnterSanmartino.
San.Save you, my lord. Sir, your most obedient:And how likes your good lordship the great actsOf the strange cavalier? Was not his conductMost happy for you in the late assault?Vel.He happily supplied the office ofOur general: howe'er, your city hadBeen ours; for though our Spanish forces mayAt first seem beaten, and we to retreatAwhile, to animate a giddy enemy,Yet we recover by our art and patienceWhat fortune gives away. This unknown leader(I know not how to style him) press'd amongOur soldiers, as they were returning backAfter a small repulse: encouraged them,(Though it was much superfluous) and got honourPerhaps not so deservingly; but 'twas well.Oni.Your soldiers speak his glory even with wonder.Vel.The ignorant are prone to it: but, sir,I think in our whole army there fought noneBut who had equal spirit. Fortune mayBestow success according to her dotage:I answer not for that.San.This is pure Castile.But what is his birth, country, quality,And whither is he bound?Vel.I seldom troubleMy language with vain questions. Some report(It not imports who are the authors) thatHis country's Sicily, his name Ascanio(Or else some sound like that): that he's a lord(But what's an island-lord?) and that he cameInto our continent to learn men and manners:And well he might; for the all-seeing sunBeholds no nation fiercer in attempt,More staid in counsel.Oni.He's of a brave presence:I never saw more majesty in youth;Nor never such bold courage in a faceSo fashion'd to delight.San.The queen commends himAlmost with wonder.Vel.Did the queen regardA man unknown?Oni.His merits spoke his worth,And well might challenge a particular eye.San.But his, as if in that dumb oratoryHe hoped to talk all the history of love,Still fix'd upon her.Vel.Your most humble servant.[ExitVelasco.Oni.This is abrupt.San.What most politic fleaIs got into his Donship's ear?Oni.Now mustThe Junto sit till midnight, till they rackSome strange design from this intelligence.
San.Save you, my lord. Sir, your most obedient:And how likes your good lordship the great actsOf the strange cavalier? Was not his conductMost happy for you in the late assault?
Vel.He happily supplied the office ofOur general: howe'er, your city hadBeen ours; for though our Spanish forces mayAt first seem beaten, and we to retreatAwhile, to animate a giddy enemy,Yet we recover by our art and patienceWhat fortune gives away. This unknown leader(I know not how to style him) press'd amongOur soldiers, as they were returning backAfter a small repulse: encouraged them,(Though it was much superfluous) and got honourPerhaps not so deservingly; but 'twas well.
Oni.Your soldiers speak his glory even with wonder.
Vel.The ignorant are prone to it: but, sir,I think in our whole army there fought noneBut who had equal spirit. Fortune mayBestow success according to her dotage:I answer not for that.
San.This is pure Castile.But what is his birth, country, quality,And whither is he bound?
Vel.I seldom troubleMy language with vain questions. Some report(It not imports who are the authors) thatHis country's Sicily, his name Ascanio(Or else some sound like that): that he's a lord(But what's an island-lord?) and that he cameInto our continent to learn men and manners:And well he might; for the all-seeing sunBeholds no nation fiercer in attempt,More staid in counsel.
Oni.He's of a brave presence:I never saw more majesty in youth;Nor never such bold courage in a faceSo fashion'd to delight.
San.The queen commends himAlmost with wonder.
Vel.Did the queen regardA man unknown?
Oni.His merits spoke his worth,And well might challenge a particular eye.
San.But his, as if in that dumb oratoryHe hoped to talk all the history of love,Still fix'd upon her.
Vel.Your most humble servant.[ExitVelasco.
Oni.This is abrupt.
San.What most politic fleaIs got into his Donship's ear?
Oni.Now mustThe Junto sit till midnight, till they rackSome strange design from this intelligence.
EnterCleantha, and offers to go out.
San.Nay! on my honour, madam!Cle.Good my lord!San.Benight us not so soon! That short-liv'd dayThat gives the Russian in the winter hopeOf heat, yet fails him, not so suddenlyForsakes the firmament. Stay, fairest madam,That we may look on you and live.Cle.My lord, I fear you two were serious.San.Never I, upon my conscience, madam.Oni.No, I'll swear;Nor none of the whole form of you at court,Unless the stratagem be for a mistress,A fashion, or some cheating-match at tennis.Cle.But happily[281]that gentleman had business.His face betrays my judgment if he beNot much in project.San.You mistake him, madam.Though he talk positive, and bustle 'mongThe sober lords, pretend to embassiesAnd state-designs all day; he's one of usAt night; he'll play, he'll drink,—you guess the rest.He'll quarrel too, then underhand compound.Why, for a need he'll jeer and speak profane;Court, and then laugh at her he courted. Madam,Forgive him his pretence to gravity,And he's an absolute cavalier.Cle.My lord,He owes you for this fair certificate;Yet I fear your character's beyond his merit.Oni.Madam, dissemble not so great a virtue;Nor, to obey the tyranny of custom,Become the court's fair hypocrite. I knowThis vanity for fashion-sake you wear,And all those gaieties you seem t' admireAre but your laughter.Cle.Sir, your charityAbuseth you extremely.Oni.Come, you cannotDisguise that wisdom, which doth glory inThe beauteous mansion it inhabits. Madam,This soul of mine, how coarse soe'er 'tis cloth'd,Took the honour to admire you, soon as firstYou shin'd at court: nor had a timorous silenceSo long denied me to profess my service,But that I fear'd I might be lost i' the crowdOf your admirers.Cle.Nor can I perceiveAny strong hope now to the contrary.Oni.Nor I: but give me licence t' undeceiveThe world, that so mistakes you. This young lordFlatters his folly that indeed you areSick of that humour you but counterfeit;Believes y' are frail and easy; since, if not,His courtship were without design.Cle.My lord,What means the gentleman? He hopes to talk meInto a virtue I ne'er practis'd yet,And much suspect I never shall.San.Pray, madam,Pardon his ignorance: 'tis want of breeding.Oni.Pardon your mirth, fair madam, and brush offThis honour'd dust that soils your company;This thing whom nature carelessly obtrudedUpon the world to teach that pride and follyMake titular greatness th' envy but of fools,The wise man's pity.San.Sir, your words are rude.Oni.Sure, no, my lord: perhaps in times of yoreThey might be construed so, when superstitionWorshipp'd each lord an idol. Now we find,By sad experience, that you are mere men,If vice debauch you not to beasts.San.The place is privileg'd, sir.Oni.I know it is, and therefore speak thus boldly.If you grow hot, you have your grots, my lord,And in your villa you may domineerO'er th' humble country-gentleman, who standsAloof and bare.Cle.My lord, leave off the combat;Y' are hardly match'd. And see, the Lord Florentio!
San.Nay! on my honour, madam!
Cle.Good my lord!
San.Benight us not so soon! That short-liv'd dayThat gives the Russian in the winter hopeOf heat, yet fails him, not so suddenlyForsakes the firmament. Stay, fairest madam,That we may look on you and live.
Cle.My lord, I fear you two were serious.
San.Never I, upon my conscience, madam.
Oni.No, I'll swear;Nor none of the whole form of you at court,Unless the stratagem be for a mistress,A fashion, or some cheating-match at tennis.
Cle.But happily[281]that gentleman had business.His face betrays my judgment if he beNot much in project.
San.You mistake him, madam.Though he talk positive, and bustle 'mongThe sober lords, pretend to embassiesAnd state-designs all day; he's one of usAt night; he'll play, he'll drink,—you guess the rest.He'll quarrel too, then underhand compound.Why, for a need he'll jeer and speak profane;Court, and then laugh at her he courted. Madam,Forgive him his pretence to gravity,And he's an absolute cavalier.
Cle.My lord,He owes you for this fair certificate;Yet I fear your character's beyond his merit.
Oni.Madam, dissemble not so great a virtue;Nor, to obey the tyranny of custom,Become the court's fair hypocrite. I knowThis vanity for fashion-sake you wear,And all those gaieties you seem t' admireAre but your laughter.
Cle.Sir, your charityAbuseth you extremely.
Oni.Come, you cannotDisguise that wisdom, which doth glory inThe beauteous mansion it inhabits. Madam,This soul of mine, how coarse soe'er 'tis cloth'd,Took the honour to admire you, soon as firstYou shin'd at court: nor had a timorous silenceSo long denied me to profess my service,But that I fear'd I might be lost i' the crowdOf your admirers.
Cle.Nor can I perceiveAny strong hope now to the contrary.
Oni.Nor I: but give me licence t' undeceiveThe world, that so mistakes you. This young lordFlatters his folly that indeed you areSick of that humour you but counterfeit;Believes y' are frail and easy; since, if not,His courtship were without design.
Cle.My lord,What means the gentleman? He hopes to talk meInto a virtue I ne'er practis'd yet,And much suspect I never shall.
San.Pray, madam,Pardon his ignorance: 'tis want of breeding.
Oni.Pardon your mirth, fair madam, and brush offThis honour'd dust that soils your company;This thing whom nature carelessly obtrudedUpon the world to teach that pride and follyMake titular greatness th' envy but of fools,The wise man's pity.
San.Sir, your words are rude.
Oni.Sure, no, my lord: perhaps in times of yoreThey might be construed so, when superstitionWorshipp'd each lord an idol. Now we find,By sad experience, that you are mere men,If vice debauch you not to beasts.
San.The place is privileg'd, sir.
Oni.I know it is, and therefore speak thus boldly.If you grow hot, you have your grots, my lord,And in your villa you may domineerO'er th' humble country-gentleman, who standsAloof and bare.
Cle.My lord, leave off the combat;Y' are hardly match'd. And see, the Lord Florentio!
EnterFlorentioandVelasco.
The queen attends his coming. Sir, you'll findA more convenient school to read this lecture.Oni.But none so beautiful to hear me.
The queen attends his coming. Sir, you'll findA more convenient school to read this lecture.
Oni.But none so beautiful to hear me.
[Exeunt, several ways,Sanmartino,Cleantha, andOniate.
Flo.And are you sure, my lord, he durst presumeTo look up at her?Vel.Yes, and she commendsHis person and his spirit.Flo.'Twas too muchT' observe his person. Sure, his spirit's great,And well may challenge the queen's memory.I have not seen him yet.Vel.Nor I, my lord.Flo.He had a fortune gentler far than mine.In envy of that service which I vowedTo Arragon, Heaven used a stranger's armIn this great action: I was judged a thingUnfit for use.Vel.Your glory was the greater,Your courage even opposing 'gainst your fateIn the attempt.Flo.But yet, mistaken manEsteems the happy only valiant.And if the queen, Velasco, should smile onHis merits, and forget that love I haveWith such religion paid her——But these doubtsAre impious, and I sin if I but listenTo their disloyal whispers. And behold,
Flo.And are you sure, my lord, he durst presumeTo look up at her?
Vel.Yes, and she commendsHis person and his spirit.
Flo.'Twas too muchT' observe his person. Sure, his spirit's great,And well may challenge the queen's memory.I have not seen him yet.
Vel.Nor I, my lord.
Flo.He had a fortune gentler far than mine.In envy of that service which I vowedTo Arragon, Heaven used a stranger's armIn this great action: I was judged a thingUnfit for use.
Vel.Your glory was the greater,Your courage even opposing 'gainst your fateIn the attempt.
Flo.But yet, mistaken manEsteems the happy only valiant.And if the queen, Velasco, should smile onHis merits, and forget that love I haveWith such religion paid her——But these doubtsAre impious, and I sin if I but listenTo their disloyal whispers. And behold,
Enter theQueen,Floriana,Cleantha, &c.
She opens, like a rock of diamond,To th' curious search of th' almost bankrupt merchant!So doth the pilot find his star, when stormsHave even sunk his bark. Divinest madam!Queen.Welcome, my lord! But pardon me my joys,If I must interrupt you with a sigh.I cannot look upon Florentio's arm,But I must grieve it bled for me.Flo.O, spareThe treasure of those tears! Some captive king,Whom fortune hath lock'd up in iron, wantsOne such to buy his freedom. Madam, allThose streams of blood which flow to warm my earth,Lest it congeal to death, cannot compareFor value with the least drop shed for you,By such a quarrel made inestimable.Queen.The war, I see, hath only been the fieldTo exercise your fancy. Your discourseShows that the court was kept beneath your tent;Yet cannot I, my lord, be jealous, but'Tis mingled with some love.Flo.'Tis a pure love,Unmix'd as is the soul. The world perhapsMay judge a kingdom hath enamour'd me,And that your titles dress you forth, to raiseMy appetite up higher. Pardon love,If it grow envious even of your fortune,And that I'm forc'd to wish you had been daughterOf some poor mountain-cottager, withoutAll dowry but your own beauty.[282]Then I mightHave showed a flame untainted with ambition,And courted you; but now the circumstanceOf greatness seems to challenge more than IHave power to give, and, working up my love,I serve my fortune.Queen.You have not, my lord,Found me uneasy to your vows: and, whenThe troubled stream of my tempestuous stateShall meet a perfect calm, you then shall knowHow worthy I esteem your virtue.Flo.Speak but those words again, and seat me inAn orb above corruption! O, confirmYour thoughts but with a promise.Queen.How, a promise!I shall repent my favour if I hearA syllable which sounds like that. UponMy marriage-day I have vowed to bring myselfA free oblation to the holy altar;Not, like a fearful debtor, tender low[283]To save my bond. My lord, I must not hearOne whisper of a promise.Flo.I'm silent,And use me as your vassal; for a titleMore glorious I shall never covet. But——Queen.No jealousy, my lord.
She opens, like a rock of diamond,To th' curious search of th' almost bankrupt merchant!So doth the pilot find his star, when stormsHave even sunk his bark. Divinest madam!
Queen.Welcome, my lord! But pardon me my joys,If I must interrupt you with a sigh.I cannot look upon Florentio's arm,But I must grieve it bled for me.
Flo.O, spareThe treasure of those tears! Some captive king,Whom fortune hath lock'd up in iron, wantsOne such to buy his freedom. Madam, allThose streams of blood which flow to warm my earth,Lest it congeal to death, cannot compareFor value with the least drop shed for you,By such a quarrel made inestimable.
Queen.The war, I see, hath only been the fieldTo exercise your fancy. Your discourseShows that the court was kept beneath your tent;Yet cannot I, my lord, be jealous, but'Tis mingled with some love.
Flo.'Tis a pure love,Unmix'd as is the soul. The world perhapsMay judge a kingdom hath enamour'd me,And that your titles dress you forth, to raiseMy appetite up higher. Pardon love,If it grow envious even of your fortune,And that I'm forc'd to wish you had been daughterOf some poor mountain-cottager, withoutAll dowry but your own beauty.[282]Then I mightHave showed a flame untainted with ambition,And courted you; but now the circumstanceOf greatness seems to challenge more than IHave power to give, and, working up my love,I serve my fortune.
Queen.You have not, my lord,Found me uneasy to your vows: and, whenThe troubled stream of my tempestuous stateShall meet a perfect calm, you then shall knowHow worthy I esteem your virtue.
Flo.Speak but those words again, and seat me inAn orb above corruption! O, confirmYour thoughts but with a promise.
Queen.How, a promise!I shall repent my favour if I hearA syllable which sounds like that. UponMy marriage-day I have vowed to bring myselfA free oblation to the holy altar;Not, like a fearful debtor, tender low[283]To save my bond. My lord, I must not hearOne whisper of a promise.
Flo.I'm silent,And use me as your vassal; for a titleMore glorious I shall never covet. But——
Queen.No jealousy, my lord.
EnterLerma.
Ler.Your majestyIs great in mercy; and I hope a strangerShall meet it, if his speech be an offence.Queen.Your pleasure, sir?Ler.The Lord Ascanio charg'd[Kneels.Me fall yet lower, if the earth would license;For to so high a majesty obedienceCannot bend down enough: then he commanded,I, in his name, should beg the honour for him,Before he take his journey from your country,To kiss your hand.Queen.Pray, sir, let's know the hour;But let it not be sudden. Years should sweatIn preparation for his entertainment,And poets rack invention, till it reachSuch praises as would reach the victoriesOf th' old heroes.Ler.Madam, if his armDid actions worthy memory, it receiv'dAn influence from your quarrel, in the whichA dwarf might triumph o'er an army. ButHe humbly craves his audience may not beWith crowd and noise, as to embassadors;But with that silence which befits his business,For 'tis of moment.Queen.Sir, we will obeyHis own desires, though ours could wish his welcomeWith a full ceremony. I attend him.[ExitLerma.Flo.Madam, this stranger——Queen.Pray, my lord, let loveNot interrupt your business. I believe,The army which Decastro so expectedBeing now arriv'd, your soldiers tired, the cityIll-settled in her faith, much counsel willBe needful. When your leisure shall permit,Our joy shall be to see you.Flo.I'm all obedience.
Ler.Your majestyIs great in mercy; and I hope a strangerShall meet it, if his speech be an offence.
Queen.Your pleasure, sir?
Ler.The Lord Ascanio charg'd[Kneels.Me fall yet lower, if the earth would license;For to so high a majesty obedienceCannot bend down enough: then he commanded,I, in his name, should beg the honour for him,Before he take his journey from your country,To kiss your hand.
Queen.Pray, sir, let's know the hour;But let it not be sudden. Years should sweatIn preparation for his entertainment,And poets rack invention, till it reachSuch praises as would reach the victoriesOf th' old heroes.
Ler.Madam, if his armDid actions worthy memory, it receiv'dAn influence from your quarrel, in the whichA dwarf might triumph o'er an army. ButHe humbly craves his audience may not beWith crowd and noise, as to embassadors;But with that silence which befits his business,For 'tis of moment.
Queen.Sir, we will obeyHis own desires, though ours could wish his welcomeWith a full ceremony. I attend him.[ExitLerma.
Flo.Madam, this stranger——
Queen.Pray, my lord, let loveNot interrupt your business. I believe,The army which Decastro so expectedBeing now arriv'd, your soldiers tired, the cityIll-settled in her faith, much counsel willBe needful. When your leisure shall permit,Our joy shall be to see you.
Flo.I'm all obedience.
[ExeuntQueenandFlorentioat several doors.
ManetSanmartinoandCleantha.
San.And when, sweet madam, will you crown our joys?Let's not, like riotous gamesters, throw awayThe treasure of our time: appoint the hour,The hour which must wear garlands of delight,By which we'll make't the envy of the age.Cle.My lord, what mean you?San.What all fine lords meanWho have plenty, youth and title.Cle.But my fame!San.'Tis the fool's bugbear.Cle.Then my conscience!San.A scarecrow for old wives, whom wrinkles makeReligious.Cle.What will the court say?San.Why, nothing.In mercy to themselves, all other ladiesWill keep your counsel.Cle.But will you not boast it?San.I'll be degraded first.Cle.Well, I'm resolv'd.San.But when, sweet madam? NameThe moment.Cle.Never: for now I weigh things better;The antidote 'gainst fear is innocence.San.Will you delude my hopes then? Pity, madam,A heart that withers if denied this favour.Cle.In pity I may be induced to much;And, since you urge compassion, I will meet.San.Where, excellent madam?Cle.I' th' sycamore-walk.San.The minute! O, the minute!Cle.An hour hence.San.Felicity! fit for thy envy, Love!You will not fail now, madam?Cle.To be such,As you shall count that hour your happiest.[Exeunt.
San.And when, sweet madam, will you crown our joys?Let's not, like riotous gamesters, throw awayThe treasure of our time: appoint the hour,The hour which must wear garlands of delight,By which we'll make't the envy of the age.
Cle.My lord, what mean you?
San.What all fine lords meanWho have plenty, youth and title.
Cle.But my fame!
San.'Tis the fool's bugbear.
Cle.Then my conscience!
San.A scarecrow for old wives, whom wrinkles makeReligious.
Cle.What will the court say?
San.Why, nothing.In mercy to themselves, all other ladiesWill keep your counsel.
Cle.But will you not boast it?
San.I'll be degraded first.
Cle.Well, I'm resolv'd.
San.But when, sweet madam? NameThe moment.
Cle.Never: for now I weigh things better;The antidote 'gainst fear is innocence.
San.Will you delude my hopes then? Pity, madam,A heart that withers if denied this favour.
Cle.In pity I may be induced to much;And, since you urge compassion, I will meet.
San.Where, excellent madam?
Cle.I' th' sycamore-walk.
San.The minute! O, the minute!
Cle.An hour hence.
San.Felicity! fit for thy envy, Love!You will not fail now, madam?
Cle.To be such,As you shall count that hour your happiest.[Exeunt.
EnterBrowfildoraandOniate.
Oni.This is a challenge! Prythee, my small friend,May not a man take th' height of my lord's spirit,Looking on thee?Brow.Pray, sir, leave off your mirth,And write my lord your answer.Oni.Little sir,I never learnt that pretty quality:I cannot write; only by word of mouth——Brow.Your place, sir?Oni.The market-place.Brow.'Tis fantastic: and my lord will take it ill.Your weapons, sir.Oni.Two English mastiffs, whichAre yet but whelps, and not transported hither:So that the time will be, I know not when.Brow.Your sport is dangerous. If my lord forgive you,I must resent th' affront as to myself,And will expect a most severe account.Oni.Thou less, though[284]angrier, thing than wasp, farewell.
Oni.This is a challenge! Prythee, my small friend,May not a man take th' height of my lord's spirit,Looking on thee?
Brow.Pray, sir, leave off your mirth,And write my lord your answer.
Oni.Little sir,I never learnt that pretty quality:I cannot write; only by word of mouth——
Brow.Your place, sir?
Oni.The market-place.
Brow.'Tis fantastic: and my lord will take it ill.Your weapons, sir.
Oni.Two English mastiffs, whichAre yet but whelps, and not transported hither:So that the time will be, I know not when.
Brow.Your sport is dangerous. If my lord forgive you,I must resent th' affront as to myself,And will expect a most severe account.
Oni.Thou less, though[284]angrier, thing than wasp, farewell.
[Exeunt.
EnterQueenandAscanio.
Queen.I am inform'd, my lord, that you have business,And 'tis of moment?Asc.Great as that of Nature'sIn her most mighty work, Creation.For to preserve from dissolution equalsThe gift of our first being. Not to holdYour majesty in riddles, 'tis to begYour pardon for a soldier doom'd to die;Inevitably doom'd, unless your mercyStep between him and death.Queen.My lord, we useT' examine well the fact for which he isTo suffer, ere we pardon. There be crimesOf that black quality which often makesMercy seem cruel.Asc.That's the fear which frightsMe to this paleness: sure, his crime is great;But fondly I, presuming on the serviceMy fortune lately did you, gave my vowNe'er to forsake your ear with earnest prayers,Till you had granted.Queen.Would you had not vowed;For by the practice of my enemiesMy fame is 'mong the people yet unsettled,And my capacity for governmentHeld much too feeble. Should I then by thisProvoke them to disdain me, I might runApparent hazard even of ruin, nowWar so distracts our kingdom. But, my lord,Your merits are too ponderous in the scale,And all respects weigh light—you have his pardon.Asc.Your hand on that. The down on the swan's bosom,
Queen.I am inform'd, my lord, that you have business,And 'tis of moment?
Asc.Great as that of Nature'sIn her most mighty work, Creation.For to preserve from dissolution equalsThe gift of our first being. Not to holdYour majesty in riddles, 'tis to begYour pardon for a soldier doom'd to die;Inevitably doom'd, unless your mercyStep between him and death.
Queen.My lord, we useT' examine well the fact for which he isTo suffer, ere we pardon. There be crimesOf that black quality which often makesMercy seem cruel.
Asc.That's the fear which frightsMe to this paleness: sure, his crime is great;But fondly I, presuming on the serviceMy fortune lately did you, gave my vowNe'er to forsake your ear with earnest prayers,Till you had granted.
Queen.Would you had not vowed;For by the practice of my enemiesMy fame is 'mong the people yet unsettled,And my capacity for governmentHeld much too feeble. Should I then by thisProvoke them to disdain me, I might runApparent hazard even of ruin, nowWar so distracts our kingdom. But, my lord,Your merits are too ponderous in the scale,And all respects weigh light—you have his pardon.
Asc.Your hand on that. The down on the swan's bosom,
[Kisses and holds it.
Not white and soft as this: here's such a dewAs drops from bounteous heaven in the morning,To make the shadowy bank pregnant with violets.Queen.My lord!Asc.I kiss'd it, and the Phœnix seem'd(The last of the whole race) to yield a perfumeMore sweet than all his dying ancestorsBreath'd from their funeral piles. O, shrink not back!My life is so concomitant with love,That if you frown on either, both expire,And I must part for ever hence.Queen.How strange appears this ecstasy! My lord, I fearYour brain feels some disturbance: if I cause it,I will remove the object.Asc.Pardon, madam,The error of my fancy (which oft seemsTo see things absent), if my tongue did utterWhat misbecame your ear; and do not forfeitYour servant to perpetual misery,For want of a short patience.Queen.No, my lord;I have the memory of your great deedsEngrav'd so deep, no error can have powerTo raze them from a due respect. You begg'dTo have a pardon: speak th' offender's name.Asc.Th' offender's name is Love; his crime high treason;A plot, how to surprise and wound your heart:To this conspirator I have given harbour,And vow'd to beg your mercy for him.Queen.How!Asc.And if you break your grant, I will hereafterScorn all your sex, since the most excellentIs cruel and inconstant.Queen.Pray, my lord,Go recollect your reason, which your passionHath too much scatter'd. Make me not have causeTo hate whom I would ever strive to honour.Asc.Madam, you haply scorn the vulgar earth,Of which I stand compacted: and becauseI cannot add a splendour to my name,Reflective from a royal pedigree,You interdict my language: but be pleas'dTo know, the ashes of my ancestors,If intermingled in the tomb with kings,Could hardly be distinguished. The stars shootAn equal influence on the open cottage,Where the poor shepherd's child is rudely nurs'd,And on the cradle, where the prince is rock'dWith care and whisper.Queen.And what hence infer you?Asc.That no distinction is 'tween man and man,But as his virtues add to him a glory,Or vices cloud him.Queen.But yet Heaven hath madeSubordination and degrees of men,And even religion doth authorise usTo rule, and tells the subject 'tis a crime,And shall meet death, if he disdain obedience.Asc.Kind Heaven made us all equal, till rude strengthOr wicked policy usurp'd a power:And for religion, that exhorts t' obeyOnly for its own ease.Queen.I must not hearSuch insolence 'gainst majesty; and yetThis less offends than love.Asc.If reason bendsYou not to mercy, let my passion plead,And not meet death from her, in whose fair quarrelI could each moment bring a life to th' hazard.Philosophy hath taught me that contentLives under the coarse thatch of labourersWith much more quiet than where the fam'd handOf artists to the life have richly drawnUpon the roofs the fictions of the gods.How happy then might I lengthen my life,With some fair country girl, so ignorantShe knew not her own beauties, rather thanEndanger death and scorn in your denial,And in your grant nothing but pomp and envy!Queen.My lord, be wise, and study that best content.This bold presumptuous love hath cancell'd allThe bonds I owed your valour: henceforth hopeNot for that usual favour I show strangers,Since you have thus abus'd it. Would I mightWith safety have appear'd more grateful.[Exit.Asc.She's gone, as life from the delinquent, whenJustice sheathes up her sword. I fain would haveConceal'd love's treason, but desire t' obtain herPut me to th' torture, till each nerve did crack,And I confess'd, then died upon the rack.[Exit.
Not white and soft as this: here's such a dewAs drops from bounteous heaven in the morning,To make the shadowy bank pregnant with violets.
Queen.My lord!
Asc.I kiss'd it, and the Phœnix seem'd(The last of the whole race) to yield a perfumeMore sweet than all his dying ancestorsBreath'd from their funeral piles. O, shrink not back!My life is so concomitant with love,That if you frown on either, both expire,And I must part for ever hence.
Queen.How strange appears this ecstasy! My lord, I fearYour brain feels some disturbance: if I cause it,I will remove the object.
Asc.Pardon, madam,The error of my fancy (which oft seemsTo see things absent), if my tongue did utterWhat misbecame your ear; and do not forfeitYour servant to perpetual misery,For want of a short patience.
Queen.No, my lord;I have the memory of your great deedsEngrav'd so deep, no error can have powerTo raze them from a due respect. You begg'dTo have a pardon: speak th' offender's name.
Asc.Th' offender's name is Love; his crime high treason;A plot, how to surprise and wound your heart:To this conspirator I have given harbour,And vow'd to beg your mercy for him.
Queen.How!
Asc.And if you break your grant, I will hereafterScorn all your sex, since the most excellentIs cruel and inconstant.
Queen.Pray, my lord,Go recollect your reason, which your passionHath too much scatter'd. Make me not have causeTo hate whom I would ever strive to honour.
Asc.Madam, you haply scorn the vulgar earth,Of which I stand compacted: and becauseI cannot add a splendour to my name,Reflective from a royal pedigree,You interdict my language: but be pleas'dTo know, the ashes of my ancestors,If intermingled in the tomb with kings,Could hardly be distinguished. The stars shootAn equal influence on the open cottage,Where the poor shepherd's child is rudely nurs'd,And on the cradle, where the prince is rock'dWith care and whisper.
Queen.And what hence infer you?
Asc.That no distinction is 'tween man and man,But as his virtues add to him a glory,Or vices cloud him.
Queen.But yet Heaven hath madeSubordination and degrees of men,And even religion doth authorise usTo rule, and tells the subject 'tis a crime,And shall meet death, if he disdain obedience.
Asc.Kind Heaven made us all equal, till rude strengthOr wicked policy usurp'd a power:And for religion, that exhorts t' obeyOnly for its own ease.
Queen.I must not hearSuch insolence 'gainst majesty; and yetThis less offends than love.
Asc.If reason bendsYou not to mercy, let my passion plead,And not meet death from her, in whose fair quarrelI could each moment bring a life to th' hazard.Philosophy hath taught me that contentLives under the coarse thatch of labourersWith much more quiet than where the fam'd handOf artists to the life have richly drawnUpon the roofs the fictions of the gods.How happy then might I lengthen my life,With some fair country girl, so ignorantShe knew not her own beauties, rather thanEndanger death and scorn in your denial,And in your grant nothing but pomp and envy!
Queen.My lord, be wise, and study that best content.This bold presumptuous love hath cancell'd allThe bonds I owed your valour: henceforth hopeNot for that usual favour I show strangers,Since you have thus abus'd it. Would I mightWith safety have appear'd more grateful.[Exit.
Asc.She's gone, as life from the delinquent, whenJustice sheathes up her sword. I fain would haveConceal'd love's treason, but desire t' obtain herPut me to th' torture, till each nerve did crack,And I confess'd, then died upon the rack.[Exit.
FOOTNOTES:[281]Peradventure. Dr Johnson observes that in this sensehappilyis written erroneously forhaply—[a distinction surely without a difference, since both are the same,haplybeing merely a contracted form of the other.]"One thing more I shall wish you to desire of them, whohappilymay peruse these two treatises."—Digby.[282]Habington has the same thought in his "Castara," edit. 1640, p. 51—"Would Castara wereThe daughter of some mountain-cottager,Who, with his toil worn out, could dying leaveHer no more dowre than what she did receiveFrom bounteous nature; her would I then leadTo th' temple, rich in her own wealth."—Steevens.[283][Old copy,love.][284][Old copy,thought.]
[281]Peradventure. Dr Johnson observes that in this sensehappilyis written erroneously forhaply—[a distinction surely without a difference, since both are the same,haplybeing merely a contracted form of the other.]"One thing more I shall wish you to desire of them, whohappilymay peruse these two treatises."—Digby.
[281]Peradventure. Dr Johnson observes that in this sensehappilyis written erroneously forhaply—[a distinction surely without a difference, since both are the same,haplybeing merely a contracted form of the other.]
"One thing more I shall wish you to desire of them, whohappilymay peruse these two treatises."—Digby.
[282]Habington has the same thought in his "Castara," edit. 1640, p. 51—"Would Castara wereThe daughter of some mountain-cottager,Who, with his toil worn out, could dying leaveHer no more dowre than what she did receiveFrom bounteous nature; her would I then leadTo th' temple, rich in her own wealth."—Steevens.
[282]Habington has the same thought in his "Castara," edit. 1640, p. 51—
"Would Castara wereThe daughter of some mountain-cottager,Who, with his toil worn out, could dying leaveHer no more dowre than what she did receiveFrom bounteous nature; her would I then leadTo th' temple, rich in her own wealth."
"Would Castara wereThe daughter of some mountain-cottager,Who, with his toil worn out, could dying leaveHer no more dowre than what she did receiveFrom bounteous nature; her would I then leadTo th' temple, rich in her own wealth."
—Steevens.
[283][Old copy,love.]
[283][Old copy,love.]
[284][Old copy,thought.]
[284][Old copy,thought.]