ORLANDO FURIOSO

Adam.Faith, sir, but I remember a word that my mistress your bed-fellow spoke.

Rasni.What was that, fellow?

Adam.O, sir, a word of comfort, a precious word—"And let him want no drink."

Rasni.Her word is law; and thou shalt want no drink. [Drink given toAdam.

Adam.Then, sir, this devil came upon me, and would not be persuaded, but he would needs carry me to hell. I proffered him a cup of ale, thinking, because he came out of so hot a place, that he was thirsty; but the devil was not dry, and therefore the more sorry was I. Well, there was no remedy but I must with him to hell: and at last I cast mine eye aside; if you knew what I spied you would laugh, sir; I looked from top to toe, and he had no cloven feet. Then I ruffled up my hair, and set my cap on the one side, and, sir, grew to be a justice of peace to the devil: at last in a great fume, as I am very choleric, and sometimes so hot in my fustian fumes that no man can abide within twenty yards of me, I start up, and so bombasted the devil, that, sir, he cried out and ran away.

Alvi.This pleasant knave hath made me laugh my fill.Rasni, now Alvida begins her quaff,And drinks a full carouse unto her king.Rasni.A pledge, my love, as hearty as great JoveDrunk when his Juno heav'd a bowl to him.—Frolic, my lords; let all the standards walk,[119]Ply it till every man hath ta'en his load.—How now, sirrah, what cheer? we have no words of you.

Adam.Truly, sir, I was in a brown study about my mistress.

Alvi.About me! for what?

Adam,Truly, mistress, to think what a golden sentence you did speak: all the philosophers in the world could not have said more:—"What, come, let him want no drink." O, wise speech!

Alvi.Villains, why skink you unto this fellow?He makes me blithe and merry in my thoughts:Heard you not that the king hath given command,That all be drunk this day within his courtIn quaffing to the health of Alvida?[Drink given toAdam.

EnterJonas.

Jonas.Repent, repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out,There are as yet but forty days remaining,And then shall Nineveh be overthrown:Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!Rasni.What fellow's this, that thus disturbs our feastWith outcries and alarums to repent?

Adam.O sir, 'tis one Goodman Jonas, that is come from Jericho; and surely I think he hath seen some spirit by the way, and is fallen out of his wits, for he never leaves crying night nor day. My master heard him, and he shut up his shop, gave me my indenture, and he and his wife do nothing but fast and pray.

Jonas.Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!

Rasni.Come hither, fellow: what art, and from whence comest thou?

Jonas.Rasni, I am a prophet of the Lord,Sent hither by the mighty God of hosts,To cry destruction to the Ninevites.O Nineveh, thou harlot of the world,I raise thy neighbours round about thy bounds,To come and see thy filthiness and sin!Thus saith the Lord, the mighty God of hosts:Your king loves chambering and wantonness;Whoredom and murder do distain his court;He favoureth covetous and drunken men;Behold, therefóre, all like a strumpet foul,Thou shalt be judg'd and punish'd for thy crime;The foe shall pierce the gates with iron ramps,The fire shall quite consume thee from above,The houses shall be burnt, the infants slain,And women shall behold their husbands die.Thine eldest sister is Samaria,[120]And Sodom on thy right hand seated is.Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out,There are as yet but forty days remaining,And then shall Nineveh be overthrown.[Offers to depart.Rasni.Stay, prophet, stay.Jonas.Disturb not him that sent me;Let me perform the message of the Lord. [Exit.Rasni.My soul is buried in the hell of thoughts.—Ah, Alvida, I look on thee with shame!—My lords on sudden fix their eyes on ground,As if dismay'd to look upon the heavens.—Hence, Magi, who have flattered me in sin![ExeuntMagi.Horror of mind, disturbance of my soul,Make me aghast for Nineveh's mishap.Lords, see proclaim'd, yea, see it straight proclaim'd,That man and beast, the woman and her child,For forty days in sack and ashes fast:Perhaps the Lord will yield, and pity us.—Bear hence these wretched blandishments of sin,[Taking off his crown and robe.And bring me sackcloth to attire your king:Away with pomp! my soul is full of woe.—In pity look on Nineveh, O God![Exeunt all exceptAlvidaandLadies.Alvi.Assail'd with shame, with horror overborne,To sorrow sold, all guilty of our sin,Come, ladies, come, let us prepare to pray.Alas, how dare we look on heavenly light,That have despis'd the maker of the same?How may we hope for mercy from above,That still despise the warnings from above?Woe's me, my conscience is a heavy foe.O patron of the poor oppress'd with sin,Look, look on me, that now for pity crave!Assail'd with shame, with horror overborne,To sorrow sold, all guilty of our sin,Come, ladies, come, let us prepare to pray. [Exeunt.

Enter theUsurer,with a halter in one hand, a dagger in the other.[121]

Usurer.Groaning in conscience, burden'd with my crimes,The hell of sorrow haunts me up and down.Tread where I list, methinks the bleeding ghostsOf those whom my corruption brought to naughtDo serve for stumbling-blocks before my steps;The fatherless and widow wrong'd by me,The poor oppressèd by my usury,Methinks I see their hands rear'd up to heaven,To cry for vengeance of my covetousness.Whereso I walk, all sigh and shun my way;Thus am I made a monster of the world:Hell gapes for me, heaven will not hold my soul.You mountains, shroud me from the God of truth:Methinks I see him sit to judge the earth;See how he blots me out o' the book of life!O burden, more than Ætna, that I bear!Cover me, hills, and shroud me from the Lord;Swallow me, Lycus, shield me from the Lord.In life no peace: each murmuring that I hear,Methinks the sentence of damnation sounds,"Die, reprobate, and hie thee hence to hell."[TheEvil Angeltempts him, offering the knife and rope.What fiend is this that tempts me to the death?What, is my death the harbour of my rest?Then let me die:—what second charge is this?Methinks I hear a voice amidst mine ears,That bids me stay, and tells me that the LordIs merciful to those that do repent.May I repent? O thou, my doubtful soul,Thou mayst repent, the judge is merciful!Hence, tools of wrath, stales[122]of temptation!For I will pray and sigh unto the Lord;In sackcloth will I sigh, and fasting pray:O Lord, in rigour look not on my sins![He sits down in sackcloth, his hands and eyes reared to heaven.

EnterAlvidawith herLadies,with dispersed locks.

Alvi.Come, mournful dames, lay off your broider'd locks,And on your shoulders spread dispersèd hairs:Let voice of music cease where sorrow dwells:Clothèd in sackcloth, sigh your sins with me;Bemoan your pride, bewail your lawless lusts;With fasting mortify your pamper'd loins:O, think upon the horror of your sins,Think, think with me, the burden of your blames!Woe to thy pomp, false beauty, fading flower,Blasted by age, by sickness, and by death!Woe to our painted cheeks, our curious oils,Our rich array, that foster'd us in sin!Woe to our idle thoughts, that wound our souls!O, would to God all nations might receiveA good example by our grievous fall!First Lady.You that are planted there where pleasure dwells,And think your pomp as great as Nineveh's,May fall for sin as Nineveh doth now.Alvi.Mourn, mourn, let moan be all your melody,And pray with me, and I will pray for all:—O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds!Ladies.O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds!Usurer.O Lord of light, forgive me my misdeeds!

EnterRasni,with hisKingsandLordsin sackcloth.

K. of Cil.Be not so overcome with grief, O king,Lest you endanger life by sorrowing so.Rasni.King of Cilicia, should I cease my grief,Whereas my swarming sins afflict my soul?Vain man, know this, my burden greater isThan every private subject's in my land.My life hath been a loadstar unto them,To guide them in the labyrinth of blame:Thus I have taught them for to do amiss;Then must I weep, my friend, for their amiss.The fall of Nineveh is wrought by me:I have maintain'd this city in her shame;I have contemn'd the warnings from above;I have upholden incest, rape, and spoil;'Tis I, that wrought the sin, must weep the sin.O, had I tears like to the silver streamsThat from the Alpine mountains sweetly stream,Or had I sighs, the treasures of remorse,As plentiful as Æolus hath blasts,I then would tempt the heavens with my laments,And pierce the throne of mercy by my sighs!K. of Cil.Heavens are propitious unto faithful prayers.Rasni.But after we repent, we must lament,Lest that a worser mischief doth befall.O, pray: perhaps the Lord will pity us.—O God of truth, both merciful and just,Behold, repentant men, with piteous eyesWe wail the life that we have led before:O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!All.O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!Rasni.Let not the infants, dallying on the teat,For fathers' sins in judgment be oppress'd!K. of Cil.Let not the painful mothers big with child,The innocents, be punish'd for our sin!Rasni.O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!All.O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!Rasni.O Lord of heaven, the virgins weep to thee!The covetous man sore sorry for his sin,The prince and poor, all pray before thy throne;And wilt thou, then, be wroth with Nineveh?K. of Cil.Give truce to prayer, O king, and rest a space.Rasni.Give truce to prayers, when times require no truce?No, princes, no. Let all our subjects hieUnto our temples, where, on humbled knees,I will expect some mercy from above.[They all enter the temple.

EnterJonas.

Jonas.This is the day wherein the Lord hath saidThat Nineveh shall quite be overthrown;This is the day of horror and mishap,Fatal unto the cursèd Ninevites.These stately towers shall in thy watery bounds,Swift-flowing Lycus, find their burials:These palaces, the pride of Assur's kings,Shall be the bowers of desolation,Whereas the solitary bird shall sing,And tigers train their young ones to their nest.O all ye nations bounded by the west,Ye happy isles where prophets do abound,Ye cities famous in the western world,Make Nineveh a precedent for you!Leave lewd desires, leave covetous delights,Fly usury, let whoredom be exil'd,Lest you with Nineveh be overthrown.Lo, how the sun's inflamèd torch prevails,Scorching the parchèd furrows of the earth!Here will I sit me down, and fix mine eyeUpon the ruins of yon wretched town;And, lo, a pleasant shade, a spreading vine,To shelter Jonas in this sunny heat!What means my God? the day is done and spent;Lord, shall my prophecy be brought to naught?When falls the fire? when will the judge be wroth?I pray thee, Lord, remember what I said,When I was yet within my country-land:Jehovah is too merciful, I fear.O, let me fly, before a prophet fault!For thou art merciful, the Lord my God,Full of compassion, and of sufferance,And dost repent in taking punishment.Why stays thy hand? O Lord, first take my life,Before my prophecy be brought to naught![A serpent devours the vine.Ah, he is wroth! behold, the gladsome vine,That did defend me from the sunny heat,Is wither'd quite, and swallow'd by a serpent!Now furious Phlegon triumphs on my brows,And heat prevails, and I am faint in heart.

Enter theAngel.

Angel.Art thou so angry, Jonas? tell me why.Jonas.Jehovah, I with burning heat am plung'd,And shadow'd only by a silly vine;Behold, a serpent hath devourèd it:And lo, the sun, incens'd by eastern wind,Afflicts me with canicular aspéct.Would God that I might die! for, well I wot,'Twere better I were dead then rest alive.Angel.Jonas, art thou so angry for the vine?Jonas.Yea, I am angry to the death, my God.Angel.Thou hast compassion, Jonas, on a vine,On which thou never labour didst bestow;Thou never gav'st it life or power to grow,But suddenly it sprung, and suddenly died:And should not I have great compassionOn Nineveh, the city of the world,Wherein there are a hundred thousand souls,And twenty thousand infants that ne wot[123]The right hand from the left, beside much cattle?O Jonas, look into their temples now,And see the true contrition of their king,The subjects' tears, the sinners' true remorse!Then from the Lord proclaim a mercy-day,For he is pitiful as he is just.[124]Jonas.I go, my God, to finish thy command.[ExitAngel.O, who can tell the wonders of my God,Or talk his praises with a fervent tongue?He bringeth down to hell, and lifts to heaven;He draws the yoke of bondage from the just,And looks upon the heathen with piteous eyes:To him all praise and honour be ascrib'd.O, who can tell the wonders of my God?He makes the infant to proclaim his truth,The ass to speak to save the prophet's life,The earth and sea to yield increase for man.Who can describe the compass of his power,Or testify in terms his endless might?My ravish'd sprite, O, whither dost thou wend?Go and proclaim the mercy of my God;Relieve the careful-hearted Ninevites;And, as thou wert the messenger of death,Go bring glad tidings of recover'd grace. [Exit.

EnterAdam,with a bottle of beer in one slop,[125]and a great piece of beef in another.

Adam.Well, Goodman Jonas, I would you had nevercome from Jewry to this country; you have made me look like a lean rib of roast beef, or like the picture of Lent painted upon a red-herring's cob.[126]Alas, masters, we are commanded by the proclamation to fast and pray! by my troth, I could prettily so-so away with[127]praying; but for fasting, why, 'tis so contrary to my nature, that I had rather suffer a short hanging than a long fasting. Mark me, the words be these, "Thou shalt take no manner of food for so many days." I had as lief he should have said, "Thou shalt hang thyself for so many days." And yet, in faith, I need not find fault with the proclamation, for I have a buttery and a pantry and a kitchen about me; for proof,ecce signum!this right slop is my pantry, behold a manchet[128][Draws it out]; this place is my kitchen, for, lo, a piece of beef [Draws it out],—O, let me repeat that sweet word again! "for, lo, a piece of beef." This is my buttery, for, see, see, my friends, to my great joy, a bottle of beer [Draws it out]. Thus, alas, I make shift to wear out this fasting; I drive away the time. But there go searchers about to seek if any man breaks the king's command. O, here they be; in with your victuals, Adam. [Puts them back into his slops.

Enter TwoSearchers.

First Search.How duly the men of Nineveh keep the proclamation! how are they armed to repentance! We have searched through the whole city, and have not as yet found one that breaks the fast.

Sec. Search.The sign of the more grace:—but stay, here sits one, methinks, at his prayers; let us see who it is.

First Search.'Tis Adam, the smith's man.—How now, Adam?

Adam.Trouble me not; "Thou shalt take no manner of food, but fast and pray."

First Search.How devoutly he sits at his orisons! but stay, methinks I feel a smell of some meat or bread about him.

Sec. Search.So thinks me too.—You, sirrah, what victuals have you about you?

Adam.Victuals! O horrible blasphemy! Hinder me not of my prayer, nor drive me not into a choler. Victuals! why, heardest thou not the sentence, "Thou shalt take no food, but fast and pray"?

Sec. Search.Truth, so it should be; but, methinks, I smell meat about thee.

Adam.About me, my friends! these words are actions in the case. About me! no, no, hang those gluttons that cannot fast and pray.

First Search.Well, for all your words, we must search you.

Adam.Search me! take heed what you do; my hose[129]are my castles, 'tis burglary if you break ope a slop; no officer must lift up an iron hatch; take heed, my slops are iron. [They searchAdam.]

Sec. Search.O villain!—see how he hath gotten victuals, bread, beef, and beer, where the king commanded upon pain of death none should eat for so many days, no, not the sucking infant!

Adam.Alas, sir, this is nothing but amodicum non nocet ut medicus daret; why, sir, a bit to comfort my stomach.

First Search.Villain, thou shalt be hanged for it.

Adam.These are your words, "I shall be hanged for it"; but first answer me to this question, how many days have we to fast still?

Sec. Search.Five days.

Adam.Five days! a long time: then I must be hanged?

First Search.Ay, marry, must thou.

Adam.I am your man, I am for you, sir, for I had rather be hanged than abide so long a fast. What, five days! Come, I'll untruss. Is your halter, and the gallows, the ladder, and all such furniture in readiness?

First Search.I warrant thee, shalt want none of these.

Adam.But hear you, must I be hanged?

First Search.Ay, marry.

Adam.And for eating of meat. Then, friends, know ye by these presents, I will eat up all my meat, and drink up all my drink, for it shall never be said, I was hanged with an empty stomach.

First Search.Come away, knave; wilt thou stand feeding now?

Adam.If you be so hasty, hang yourself an hour, while I come to you, for surely I will eat up my meat.

Sec. Search.Come, let's draw him away perforce.

Adam.You say there is five days yet to fast; these are your words?

Sec. Search.Ay, sir.

Adam.I am for you: come, let's away, and yet let me be put in the Chronicles. [Exeunt.

EnterJonas, Rasni, Alvida,theKing of Cilicia,and otherKings,royally attended.

Jonas.Come, careful king, cast off thy mournful weeds,Exchange thy cloudy looks to smoothèd smiles;Thy tears have pierc'd the piteous throne of grace,Thy sighs, like incense pleasing to the Lord,Have been peace-offerings for thy former pride:Rejoice, and praise his name that gave thee peace.And you, fair nymphs, ye lovely Ninevites,Since you have wept and fasted 'fore the Lord,He graciously hath temper'd his revenge:Beware henceforth to tempt him any more:Let not the niceness of your beauteous looksEngraft in you a high-presuming mind;For those that climb he casteth to the ground,And they that humble be he lifts aloft.Rasni.Lowly I bend with awful bent of eye,Before the dread Jehovah, God of hosts,Despising all profane device of man.Those lustful lures, that whilom led awryMy wanton eyes, shall wound my heart no more;And she, whose youth in dalliance I abus'd,Shall now at last become my wedlock-mate.—Fair Alvida, look not so wo-begone;If for thy sin thy sorrow do exceed,Blessèd be thou; come, with a holy bandLet's knit a knot to salve our former shame.Alvi.With blushing looks, betokening my remorse,I lowly yield, my king, to thy behest,So as this man of God shall think it good.Jonas.Woman, amends may never come too late;A will to practise good is virtuous:The God of heaven, when sinners do repent,Doth more rejoice than in ten thousand just.Rasni.Then witness, holy prophet, our accord.Alvi.Plight in the presence of the Lord thy God.Jonas.Blest may you be, like to the flowering sheavesThat play with gentle winds in summer-tide;Like olive-branches let your children spread,And as the pines in lofty Lebanon,Or as the kids that feed on Sepher[130]plains,So be the seed and offspring of your loins!

Enter theUsurer,Thrasybulus,andAlcon.

Usurer.Come forth, my friends, whom wittingly I wrong'd:Before this man of God receive your due;Before our king I mean to make my peace.—Jonas, behold, in sign of my remorse,I here restore into these poor men's handsTheir goods which I unjustly have detain'd;And may the heavens so pardon my misdeedsAs I am penitent for my offence!Thras.And what through want from others I purloin'd,Behold, O king, I proffer 'fore thy throne,To be restor'd to such as owe[131]the same.Jonas.A virtuous deed, pleasing to God and man.Would God, all cities drownèd in like shameWould take example of these Ninevites.Rasni.Such be the fruits of Nineveh's repent;And such for ever may our dealings be,That he that call'd us home in height of sinMay smile to see our hearty penitence.—Viceroys, proclaim a fast unto the Lord;Let Israel's God be honour'd in our land;Let all occasion of corruption die,For who shall fault therein shall suffer deathBear witness, God, of my unfeignèd zeal.—Come, holy man, as thou shalt counsel me,My court and city shall reformèd be.Jonas.Wend on in peace, and prosecute this course.[Exeunt all exceptJonas.You islanders, on whom the milder airDoth sweetly breathe the balm of kind increase,Whose lands are fatten'd with the dew of heaven,And made more fruitful than Actæan plains;You whom delicious pleasures dandle soft,Whose eyes are blinded with security,Unmask yourselves, cast error clean aside.O London, maiden of the mistress-isle,Wrapt in the folds and swathing-clouts of shame,In thee more sins than Nineveh contains!Contempt of God, despite of reverend age,Neglect of law, desire to wrong the poor,Corruption, whoredom, drunkenness, and pride.Swoll'n are thy brows with impudence and shame,O proud adulterous glory of the west!Thy neighbours burn, yet dost thou fear no fire;Thy preachers cry, yet dost thou stop thine ears;The 'larum rings, yet sleepest thou secure.London, awake, for fear the Lord do frown:I set a looking-glass before thine eyes.O, turn, O, turn, with weeping to the Lord,And think the prayers and virtues of thy queenDefer the plague which otherwise would fall!Repent, O London! lest for thine offence,Thy shepherd fail, whom mighty God preserve,That she may bide the pillar of his churchAgainst the storms of Romish Anti-Christ!The hand of mercy overshade her head,And let all faithful subjects say, Amen![Exit.

Two quartos ofOrlando Furiosoare known. Of these, copies of the first, dated 1594, printed by John Danter for Cuthbert Burby, are to be found in the British Museum and in the Dyce Library at South Kensington; copies of the second, dated 1599, and printed by Simon Stafford for Cuthbert Burby, are to be found in the British Museum, the Dyce Library and the library of Mr Huth. On theStationers' Registersthe play is entered, 7th December 1593, to John Danter, and notice of transfer to Cuthbert Burby is made under date of 28th May 1594. The play belonged first to the Queen's players and was probably performed at court, possibly on St. Stephen's Day, 26th December 1588, though this is conjecture (SeeCayley,Rep. Eng. Com., p 409). Upon the absence of the Queen's men from court, 26th December 1591 to April 1593, this play, among others, fell into the hands of the combined Admiral's and Strange's companies, and was by them performed, as Henslowe records, 21st February 1592. Greene's name does not appear on the title-page of the quartos. InThe Defence of Conny-Catching(1592), we find the following.—"Master R. G., would it not make you blush—if you soldOrlando Furiosoto the Queen's players for twenty nobles, and when they were in the country, sold the same play to Lord Admiral's men, for as much more? Was not this plain coney-catching, M. G.?" Among the actors in the Admiral and Strange companies was Edward Alleyn. It so occurs that there exists at Dulwich College a large portion of the MS. of this play, containing the part of Orlando, with cues regularly marked, and with omissions supplied in the handwriting of Alleyn. Though imperfect, this MS. indicates that the printed edition was composed from a curtailed and mutilated copy. Greene's play is based on a free use of Ariosto, and may be considered a parody on the "mad plays" popular at the time. Reflections of it are to be found in Peele'sOld Wives' Tale, in the name Sacripant, and in the resemblance between ll. 66-69,Orlando Furioso, and ll. 885-888,Old Wives' Tale.

Marsilius, Emperor of Africa.

Soldan of Egypt.

Rodomont, King of Cuba.

Mandricard, King of Mexico.

Brandimart, King of the Isles.

Sacripant.

Orlando.

Ogier.

Namus.

Oliver.

Turpin.

Duke of Aquitain.

Rossilion.

Medor.

Orgalio, page toOrlando.

Sacripant'sman.

Tom.

Ralph.

Fiddler.

Several of the Twelve Peers of France, whose names are not given. Clowns, Attendants, etc.

Angelica, daughter toMarsilius.

Melissa, an enchantress.

Satyrs.

EnterMarsiliusandAngelica,theSoldan, Rodomont, Mandricard, Brandimart, OrlandoandSacripant,with Attendants.

Mars.Victorious princes, summon'd to appearWithin the continent of Africa;From seven-fold Nilus to Taprobany,Where fair Apollo darting forth his lightPlays on the seas;From Gades' Islands, where stout HerculesEmblaz'd his trophies on two posts of brass,To Tanais, whose swift declining floodsEnviron rich Europa to the north;All fetch'd from out your courts by beauty to this coast,To seek and sue for fair Angelica,Sith none but one must have this happy prize,At which you all have levell'd long your thoughts,Set each man forth his passions how he can,And let her censure[133]make the happiest man.Sold.The fairest flower that glories Africa,Whose beauty Phœbus dares not dash with showers,Over whose climate never hung a cloud,But smiling Titan lights the horizon,—Egypt is mine, and there I hold my state,Seated in Cairo and in Babylon.From thence the matchless beauty of Angelica,Whose hue (as bright as are those silver dovesThat wanton Venus mann'th[134]upon her fist),Forc'd me to cross and cut th' Atlantic seas,To oversearch the fearful ocean,Where I arriv'd to etérnize with my lanceThe matchless beauty of fair Angelica;Nor tilt, nor tourney, but my spear and shieldResounding on their crests and sturdy helms,Topt high with plumes, like Mars his burgonet,Enchasing on their curats[135]with my blade,That none so fair as fair Angelica.But leaving these such glories as they be,I love, my lord; let that suffice for me.Rod.Cuba my seat, a region so enrich'dWith savours sparkling from the smiling heavens,As those that seek for traffic to my coastAccount it like that wealthy ParadiseFrom whence floweth Gihon, and swift Euphrates:[136]The earth within her bowels hath enwrapt,As in the massy storehouse of the world,Millions of gold, as bright as was the showerThat wanton Jove sent down to Danaë.Marching from thence to manage arms abroad,I pass'd the triple-parted regiment[137]That froward Saturn gave unto his sons,Erecting statues of my chivalry,Such and so brave as never HerculesVow'd for the love of lovely Iole.But leaving these such glories as they be,I love, my lord; let that suffice for me.Mand.And I, my lord, am Mandricard of Mexico,Whose climate, fairer than Iberia's,Seated beyond the sea of Tripoly,And richer than the plot Hesperides,[138]Or that same isle wherein Ulysses' loveLull'd in her lap the young Telegonus;That did but Venus tread a dainty step,So would she like the land of Mexico,As, Paphos and brave Cyprus set aside,With me sweet lovely Venus would abide.From thence, mounted upon a Spanish bark,Such as transported Jason to the fleece,Come from the south, I furrow'd Neptune's seas,North-east as far as is the frozen Rhine;Leaving fair Voya, cross'd up Danuby,As high as Saba, whose enhancing streamsCut 'twixt the Tartars and the Russians:[139]There did I act as many brave attempts,As did Pirothous for his Proserpine.But leaving these such glories as they be,I love, my lord; let that suffice for me.Brand.The bordering islands, seated here in ken,Whose shores are sprinkled with rich orient pearl,More bright of hue than were the margarites[140]That Cæsar found in wealthy Albion;The sands of Tagus all of burnish'd goldMade Thetis never prouder on the clifts[141]That overpeer the bright and golden shore,Than do the rubbish of my country seas:And what I dare, let say the Portingale,And Spaniard tell, who, mann'd with mighty fleets,Came to subdue my islands to their king,Filling our seas with stately argosies,Carvels and magars, hulks of burden great,Which Brandimart rebated[142]from his coast,And sent them home ballas'd with little wealth.[143]But leaving these such glories as they be,I love, my lord; let that suffice for me.Orl.Lords of the south, and princes of esteem,Viceroys unto the state of Africa,I am no king, yet am I princely born,Descended from the royal house of France,And nephew to the mighty Charlemagne,Surnam'd Orlando, the County Palatine.Swift fame hath sounded to our western seasThe matchless beauty of Angelica,Fairer than was the nymph of Mercury,Who, when bright Phœbus mounteth up his coach,And tracts Aurora in her silver steps,And sprinkles from the folding of her lapWhite lilies, roses, and sweet violets.Yet thus believe me, princes of the south,Although my country's love, dearer than pearlOr mines of gold, might well have kept me back;The sweet conversing with my king and friends,Left all for love, might well have kept me back;The seas by Neptune hoisèd to the heavens,Whose dangerous flaws[144]might well have kept me back;The savage Moors and Anthropophagi,Whose lands I pass'd, might well have kept me back;The doubt of entertainment in the courtWhen I arriv'd, might well have kept me back;But so the fame of fair AngelicaStamp'd in my thoughts the figure of her love,As neither country, king, or seas, or cannibals,Could by despairing keep Orlando back.I list not boast in acts of chivalry(An humour never fitting with my mind),But come there forth the proudest championThat hath suspicion in the Palatine,And with my trusty sword Durandell,Single, I'll register upon his helmWhat I dare do for fair Angelica.But leaving these such glories as they be,I love, my lord;Angelica herself shall speak for me.Mars.Daughter, thou hear'st what love hath here alleg'd,How all these kings, by beauty summon'd here,Put in their pleas, for hope of diadem,Of noble deeds, of wealth, and chivalry,All hoping to possess Angelica.Sith father's will may hap to aim amiss(For parents' thoughts in love oft step awry),Choose thou the man who best contenteth thee,And he shall wear the Afric crown next me.For trust me, daughter, like of whom thou please.Thou satisfied, my thoughts shall be at ease.Ang.Kings of the South, viceroys of Africa,Sith father's will hangs on his daughter's choice,And I, as erst Princess AndromacheSeated amidst the crew of Priam's sons,Have liberty to choose where best I love;Must freely say, for fancy hath no fraud,That far unworthy is AngelicaOf such as deign to grace her with their loves;The Soldan with his seat in Babylon,The Prince of Cuba, and of Mexico,Whose wealthy crowns might win a woman's will,Young Brandimart, master of all the islesWhere Neptune planted hath his treasury:The worst of these men of so high importAs may command a greater dame than I.But fortune, or some deep-inspiring fate,Venus, or else the bastard brat of Mars,Whose bow commands the motions of the mind,Hath sent proud love to enter such a pleaAs nonsuits all your princely evidence,And flat commands that, maugre majesty,I choose Orlando, County Palatine.Rod.How likes Marsilius of his daughter's choice?Mars.As fits Marsilius of his daughter's spouse.Rod.Highly thou wrong'st us, King of Africa,To brave thy neighbour princes with disgrace,To tie thine honour to thy daughter's thoughts,Whose choice is like that Greekish giglot's[145]loveThat left her lord, Prince Menelaus,And with a swain made 'scape away to Troy.What is Orlando but a straggling mate,Banish'd for some offence by Charlemagne,Skipp'd from his country as Anchises' son,And means, as he did to the Carthage Queen,To pay her ruth and ruin for her love?Orl.Injurious Cuba, ill it fits thy greeTo wrong a stranger with discourtesy.Were't not the sacred presence of AngelicaPrevails with me, as Venus' smiles with Mars,To set a supersedeas of my wrath,Soon should I teach thee what it were to brave.Mand.And, Frenchman, were't not 'gainst the law of arms,In place of parley for to draw a sword,Untaught companion, I would learn you knowWhat duty 'longs to such a prince as he.Orl.Then as did Hector 'fore Achilles' tent,Trotting his courser softly on the plains,Proudly dar'd forth the stoutest youth of Greece;So who stands highest in his own conceit,And thinks his courage can perform the most,Let him but throw his gauntlet on the ground,And I will pawn my honour to his gage,He shall ere night be met and combated.Mars.Shame you not, princes, at this bad agree,To wrong a stranger with discourtesy?Believe me, lords, my daughter hath made choice,And, maugre him that thinks him most aggriev'd,She shall enjoy the County Palatine.Brand.But would these princes follow my advice,And enter arms as did the Greeks 'gainst Troy,Nor he, nor thou should'st have Angelica.Rod.Let him be thought a dastard to his death,That will not sell the travails he hath pastDearer than for a woman's fooleries:What says the mighty Mandricard?Mand.I vow to hie me home to Mexico,To troop myself with such a crew of menAs shall so fill the downs of AfricaLike to the plains of watery Thessaly,Whenas an eastern gale, whistling aloft,Hath overspread the ground with grasshoppers.Then see, Marsilius, if the PalatineCan keep his love from falling to our lots,Or thou canst keep thy country free from spoil.Mars.Why, think you, lords, with haughty menacesTo dare me out within my palace-gates?Or hope you to make conquest by constraintOf that which never could be got by love?Pass from my court, make haste out of my land,Stay not within the bounds Marsilius holds;Lest, little brooking these unfitting braves,My choler overslip the law of arms,And I inflict revenge on such abuse.Rod.I'll beard and brave thee in thy proper town,And here ensconce myself despite of thee,And hold thee play till Mandricard return.—What says the mighty Soldan of Egýpt?Sold.That when Prince Menelaus with all his matesHad ten years held their siege in Asia,Folding their wraths in cinders of fair Troy,Yet, for their arms grew by conceit of love,Their trophies were but conquest of a girl:Then trust me, lords, I'll never manage armsFor women's loves that are so quickly lost.Brand.Tush, my lords, why stand you upon terms?Let us to our sconce,—and you, my lord, to Mexico.Orl.Ay, sirs, ensconce ye how you can,See what we dare, and thereon set your rest.[Exeunt all exceptSacripantand hisMan.Sac.[aside]. Boast not too much, Marsilius, in thyself,Nor of contentment in Angelica;For Sacripant must have Angelica,And with her Sacripant must have the crown:By hook or crook I must and will have both.Ah sweet Revenge, incense their angry minds,Till, all these princes weltering in their bloods,The crown do fall to County Sacripant!Sweet are the thoughts that smother from conceit:For when I come and set me down to rest,My chair presents a throne of majesty;And when I set my bonnet on my head,Methinks I fit my forehead for a crown;And when I take my truncheon in my fist,A sceptre then comes tumbling in my thoughts;My dreams are princely, all of diadems.Honour,—methinks the title is too base:Mighty, glorious, and excellent,—ay, these,My glorious genius, sound within my mouth;These please the ear, and with a sweet applause,Make me in terms coequal with the gods.Then these, Sacripant, and none but these;And these, or else make hazard of thy life.Let it suffice, I will conceal the rest.—Sirrah!Man.My lord?Sac.[aside]. My lord! How basely was this slave brought up,That knows no titles fit for dignity,To grace his master with hyperboles!My lord! Why, the basest baron of fair AfricaDeserves as much: yet County SacripantMust he a swain salute with name of lord.—Sirrah, what thinks the Emperor of my colours,Because in field I wear both blue and red at once?Man.They deem, my lord, your honour lives at peace,As one that's neuter in these mutinies,And covets to rest equal friends to both;Neither envious to Prince Mandricard,Nor wishing ill unto Marsilius,That you may safely pass where'er you please,With friendly salutations from them both.Sac.Ay, so they guess, but level far awry;For if they knew the secrets of my thoughts,Mine emblem sorteth to another sense.I wear not these as one resolv'd to peace,But blue and red as enemy to both;Blue, as hating King Marsilius,And red, as in revenge to Mandricard:Foe unto both, friend only to myself,And to the crown, for that's the golden markWhich makes my thoughts dream on a diadem.See'st not thou all men presage I shall be king?Marsilius sends to me for peace;Mandricard puts off his cap, ten mile off:Two things more, and then I cannot miss the crown.Man.O, what be those, my good lord?Sac.First must I get the love of fair Angelica.Now am I full of amorous conceits,Not that I doubt to have what I desire,But how I might best with mine honour woo:Write, or entreat,—fie, that fitteth not;Send by ambassadors,—no, that's too base;Flatly command,—ay, that's for Sacripant:Say thou art Sacripant, and art in love,And who in Africa dare say the county nay?O Angelica,Fairer than Chloris when in all her prideBright Maia's son entrapp'd her in the netWherewith Vulcan entangled the god of war!

Man.Your honour is so far in contemplation of Angelica as you have forgot the second in attaining to the crown.

Sac.That's to be done by poison, prowess, or any means of treachery, to put to death the traitorousOrlando.—But who is this comes here? Stand close. [They retire.

EnterOrgalio.

Org.I am sent on embassage to the right mighty and magnificent, alias, the right proud and pontifical, the County Sacripant; for Marsilius and Orlando, knowing him to be as full of prowess as policy, and fearing lest in leaning to the other faction he might greatly prejudice them, they seek first to hold the candle before the devil, and knowing him to be a Thrasonical mad-cap, they have sent me a Gnathonical[146]companion, to give him lettuce fit for his lips. Now, sir, knowing his astronomical humours, as one that gazeth so high at the stars as he never looketh on the pavement in the streets,—but whist!lupus est in fabula.

Sac.[coming forward]. Sirrah, thou that ruminatest to thyself a catalogue of privy conspiracies, what art thou?

Org.God save your majesty!

Sac.[aside]. My majesty!—Come hither, my well-nutrimented knave; whom takest me to be?

Org.The mighty Mandricard of Mexico.

Sac.[aside]. I hold these salutations as ominous; for saluting me by that which I am not, he presageth what I shall be: for so did the Lacedæmonians by Agathocles, who of a base potter wore the kingly diadem.—But why deemest thou me to be the mighty Mandricard of Mexico?

Org.Marry, sir,—

Sac.Stay there: wert thou never in France?

Org.Yes, if it please your majesty.

Sac.So it seems, for there they salute their king by the name of Sir, Monsieur:—but forward.

Org.Such sparks of peerless majestyFrom those looks flame, like lightning from the east,As either Mandricard, or else some greater prince,—Sac.[aside]. Methinks these salutations make my thoughtsTo be heroical:—but say, to whom art thou sent?Org.To the County Sacripant.Sac.Why, I am he.Org.It pleaseth your majesty to jest.Sac.Whate'er I seem, I tell thee I am he.

Org.Then may it please your honour, the Emperor Marsilius, together with his daughter Angelica and Orlando, entreateth your excellency to dine with them.

Sac.Is Angelica there?

Org.There, my good lord.

Sac.Sirrah.

Man.My lord?

Sac.Villain, Angelica sends for me: see that thou entertain that happy messenger, and bring him in with thee. [Exeunt.

EnterOrlando,theDuke of Aquitain,and theCounty Rossilion,withSoldiers.

Orl.Princes of France, the sparkling light of fame,Whose glory's brighter than the burnish'd gatesFrom whence Latona's lordly son doth march,When, mounted on his coach tinsell'd with flames,He triumphs in the beauty of the heavens;This is the place where Rodomont lies hid:Here lies he, like the thief of Thessaly,Which scuds abroad and searcheth for his prey,And, being gotten, straight he gallops home,As one that dares not break a spear in field.But trust me, princes, I have girt his fort,And I will sack it, or on this castle-wallI'll write my resolution with my blood:—Therefore, drum, sound a parle.[A parle is sounded, anda Soldiercomes upon the walls.Sol.Who is't that troubleth our sleeps?Orl.Why, sluggard, seest thou not Lycaon's son,The hardy plough-swain unto mighty Jove,Hath trac'd his silver furrows in the heavens,And, turning home his over-watchèd team,Gives leave unto Apollo's chariot?I tell thee, sluggard, sleep is far unfitFor such as still have hammering in their heads,But only hope of honour and revenge:These call'd me forth to rouse thy master up.Tell him from me, false coward as he is,That Orlando, the County Palatine,Is come this morning, with a band of French,To play him hunt's-up with a point of war;I'll be his minstrel with my drum and fife;Bid him come forth, and dance it if he dare,Let fortune throw her favours where she list.Sol.Frenchman, between half-sleeping and awake,Although the misty veil strain'd over CynthiaHinders my sight from noting all thy crew,Yet, for I know thee and thy straggling groomsCan in conceit build castles in the sky,But in your actions like the stammering GreekWhich breathes his courage bootless in the air,I wish thee well, Orlando, get thee gone,Say that a sentinel did suffer thee;For if the round or court-of-guard should hearThou or thy men were braying at the walls,Charles' wealth, the wealth of all his western mines,Found in the mountains of Transalpine France,Might not pay ransom to the king for thee.Orl.Brave sentinel, if nature hath enchas'dA sympathy of courage to thy tale,And, like the champion of Andromache,Thou, or thy master, dare come out the gates,Maugre the watch, the round, or court-of-guard,I will attend to abide the coward here.If not, but still the craven sleeps secure,Pitching his guard within a trench of stones,Tell him his walls shall serve him for no proof,But as the son of Saturn in his wrathPash'd[147]all the mountains at Typhœus' head,And topsy-turvy turn'd the bottom up,So shall the castle of proud Rodomont.—And so, brave lords of France, let's to the fight.[Exeunt.

Alarums:RodomontandBrandimartfly. EnterOrlandowithRodomont'scoat.

Orl.The fox is scap'd, but here's his case:I miss'd him near; 'twas time for him to trudge.[Enter theDuke of Aquitain.How now, my lord of Aquitain!Aq.My lord, the court-of-guard is put unto the swordAnd all the watch that thought themselves so sure,So that not one within the castle breathes.Orl.Come then, let's post amain to find out Rodomont,And then in triumph march unto Marsilius. [Exeunt.

EnterMedorandAngelica.

Ang.I marvel, Medor, what my father meansTo enter league with County Sacripant?Med.Madam, the king your father's wise enough;He knows the county, like to Cassius,Sits sadly dumping, aiming Cæsar's death,Yet crying "Ave" to his majesty.[148]But, madam, mark awhile, and you shall seeYour father shake him off from secrecy.Ang.So much I guess; for when he will'd I shouldGive entertainment to the doting earl,His speech was ended with a frowning smile.Med.Madam, see where he comes; I will be gone.[Exit.

EnterSacripantand hisMan.

Sac.How fares my fair Angelica?Ang.Well, that my lord so friendly is in league,As honour wills him, with Marsilius.Sac.Angelica, shall I have a word or two with thee?Ang.What pleaseth my lord for to command?Sac.Then know, my love, I cannot paint my grief,Nor tell a tale of Venus and her son,Reporting such a catalogue of toys:It fits not Sacripant to be effeminate.Only give leave, my fair Angelica,To say, the county is in love with thee.Ang.Pardon, my lord; my loves are over-past:So firmly is Orlando printed in my thoughts,As love hath left no place for any else.Sac.Why, overweening damsel, see'st thou notThy lawless love unto this straggling mateHath fill'd our Afric regions full of blood?And wilt thou still perséver in thy love?Tush, leave the Palatine, and go with me.Ang.Brave county, know, where sacred love unites,The knot of gordian at the shrine of JoveWas never half so hard or intricateAs be the bands which lovely Venus ties.Sweet is my love; and, for I love, my lord,Seek not, unless as Alexander did,To cut the plough-swain's traces with thy sword,Or slice the slender fillets of my life:For else, my lord, Orlando must be mine.Sac.Stand I on love? Stoop I to Venus' lure,That never yet did fear the god of war?Shall men report that County SacripantHeld lovers' pains for pining passions?Shall such a siren offer me more wrongThan they did to the prince of Ithaca?No; as he his ears, so, county, stop thine eye.Go to your needle, lady, and your clouts;Go to such milksops as are fit for love:I will employ my busy brains for war.Ang.Let not, my lord, denial breed offence:Love doth allow her favours but to one,Nor can there sit within the sacred shrineOf Venus more than one installèd heart.Orlando is the gentleman I love,And more than he may not enjoy my love.Sac.Damsel, begone: fancy[149]hath taken leave;Where I took hurt, there have I heal'd myself,As those that with Achilles' lance were wounded,Fetch'd help at self-same pointed spear.Beauty can brave, and beauty hath repulse;And, beauty, get ye gone to your Orlando.[ExitAngelica.Man.My lord, hath love amated[150]him whose thoughtsHave ever been heroical and brave?Stand you in dumps, like to the MyrmidonTrapt in the tresses of Polyxena,Who, amid the glory of his chivalry,Sat daunted with a maid of Asia?Sac.Thinkst thou my thoughts are lunacies of love?No, they are brands firèd in Pluto's forge,Where sits Tisiphone tempering in flamesThose torches that do set on fire revenge.I lov'd the dame; but brav'd by her repulse,Hate calls me on to quittance all my ills;Which first must come by offering prejudiceUnto Orlando her belovèd love.Man.O, how may that be brought to pass, my lord?Sac.Thus. Thou see'st that Medor and AngelicaAre still so secret in their private walks,As that they trace the shady lawnds,And thickest-shadow'd groves,Which well may breed suspicion of some love.Now, than the French no nation under heavenIs sooner touch'd with sting of jealousy.Man.And what of that, my lord?Sac.Hard by, for solace, in a secret grove,The county once a-day fails not to walk:There solemnly he ruminates his love.Upon those shrubs that compass-in the spring,And on those trees that border-in those walks,I'll slily have engrav'n on every barkThe names of Medor and Angelica.Hard by, I'll have some roundelays hung up,Wherein shall be some posies of their loves,Fraughted so full of fiery passionsAs that the county shall perceive by proofMedor hath won his fair Angelica.Man.Is this all, my lord?Sac.No; for thou like to a shepherd shalt be cloth'd,With staff and bottle, like some country-swainThat tends his flocks feeding upon these downs.Here see thou buzz into the county's earsThat thou hast often seen within these woodsBase Medor sporting with Angelica;And when he hears a shepherd's simple tale,He will not think 'tis feign'd.Then either a madding mood will end his love,Or worse betide him through fond jealousy.Man.Excellent, my lord; see how I will play the shepherd.Sac.And mark thou how I play the carver:Therefore be gone, and make thee ready straight.[Exit hisMan.

[Sacripantcarves the names and hangs up the roundelays on the trees, and then goes out.Re-enter hisManattired like a shepherd.

[Sacripantcarves the names and hangs up the roundelays on the trees, and then goes out.

Re-enter hisManattired like a shepherd.

Shep.Thus all alone, and like a shepherd's swain,As Paris, when Œnone lov'd him well,Forgat he was the son of Priamus,All clad in grey, sat piping on a reed;So I transformèd to this country shape,Haunting these groves do work my master's will,To plague the Palatine with jealousy,And to conceit him with some deep extreme.—Here comes the man unto his wonted walk.

EnterOrlandoandOrgalio.

Orl.Orgalio, go see a sentinel be plac'd,And bid the soldiers keep a court-of-guard,So to hold watch till secret here aloneI meditate upon the thoughts of love.Org.I will, my lord. [Exit.Orl.Fair queen of love, thou mistress of delight,Thou gladsome lamp that wait'st on Phœbe's train,Spreading thy kindness through the jarring orbs,That in their union praise thy lasting powers;Thou that hast stay'd the fiery Phlegon's course,And mad'st the coachman of the glorious wainTo droop, in view of Daphne's excellence;Fair pride of morn, sweet beauty of the even,[151]Look on Orlando languishing in love.Sweet solitary groves, whereas the nymphsWith pleasance laugh to see the satyrs play,Witness Orlando's faith unto his love.Tread she these lawnds, kind Flora, boast thy pride.Seek she for shade, spread, cedars, for her sake.Fair Flora, make her couch amidst thy flowers.Sweet crystal springs,Wash ye with roses when she longs to drink.Ah, thought, my heaven! ah, heaven, that knows my thought!Smile, joy in her that my content hath wrought.Shep.[aside]. The heaven of love is but a pleasant hell,Where none but foolish-wise imprison'd dwell.Orl.Orlando, what contrarious thoughts be these,That flock with doubtful motions in thy mind?Heaven smiles, and trees do boast their summer pride.What! Venus writes her triumphs here beside.Shep.[aside]. Yet when thine eye hath seen, thy heart shall rueThe tragic chance that shortly shall ensue.Orl.[reads]. "Angelica":—ah, sweet and heavenly name,Life to my life, and essence to my joy!But, soft! this gordian knot together co-unitesA Medor partner in her peerless love.Unkind, and will she bend her thoughts to change?Her name, her writing! Ah foolish and unkind!No name of hers, unless the brooks relentTo hear her name, and Rhodanus vouchsafeTo raise his moisten'd locks from out the reeds,And flow with calm alongst his turning bounds:No name of hers, unless the Zephyr blowHer dignities alongst Ardenia woods,Where all the world for wonders do await.And yet her name! for why Angelica;But, mix'd with Medor, not Angelica.Only by me was lov'd Angelica,Only for me must live Angelica.I find her drift: perhaps the modest pledgeOf my content hath with a secret smileAnd sweet disguise restrain'd her fancy thus,Figuring Orlando under Medor's name;Fine drift, fair nymph! Orlando hopes no less.[Spies the roundelays.Yet more! are Muses masking in these trees,Framing their ditties in conceited lines,Making a goddess, in despite of me,That have no other but Angelica?Shep.[aside]. Poor hapless man, these thoughts contain thy hell!Orl.[reads]."Angelica is lady of his heart,Angelica is substance of his joy,Angelica is medicine of his smart,Angelica hath healèd his annoy."Ah, false Angelica!—what, have we more?[Reads."Let groves, let rocks, let woods, let watery springs,The cedar, cypress, laurel, and the pine,Joy in the notes of love that Medor singsOf those sweet looks, Angelica, of thine.Then, Medor, in Angelica take delight,Early, at morn, at noon, at even and night."What, dares Medor court my Venus?What may Orlando deem?Ætna, forsake the bounds of Sicily,For now in me thy restless flames appear.Refus'd, contemn'd, disdain'd! what worse than these?—Orgalio!

Re-enterOrgalio.

Org.My lord?Orl.Boy, view these trees carvèd with true love-knots,The inscription "Medor and Angelica?";And read these verses hung up of their loves:Now tell me, boy, what dost thou think?

Org.By my troth, my lord, I think Angelica is a woman.

Orl.And what of that?

Org.Therefore unconstant, mutable, having their loves hanging in their eyelids; that as they are got with a look, so they are lost again with a wink. But here's a shepherd; it may be he can tell us news.

Orl.What messenger hath Ate sent abroadWith idle looks to listen my laments?—Sirrah, who wrongèd happy nature so,To spoil these trees with this "Angelica?"—Yet in her name, Orlando, they are blest.Shep.I am a shepherd-swain, thou wandering knight,That watch my flocks, not one that follow love.Orl.As follow love! why darest thou dispraise my heaven,Or once disgrace or prejudice her name?Is not Angelica the queen of love,Deck'd with the compound wreath of Adon's flowers?She is. Then speak, thou peasant, what is heThat dares attempt to court my queen of love,Or I shall send thy soul to Charon's charge.Shep.Brave knight, since fear of death enforceth stillTo greater minds submission and relent,Know that this Medor, whose unhappy nameIs mixèd with the fair Angelica's,Is even that Medor that enjoys her love.Yon cave bears witness of their kind content;Yon meadows talk the actions of their joy;Our shepherds in their songs of solace sing,"Angelica doth none but Medor love."Orl.Angelica doth none but Medor love!Shall Medor, then, possess Orlando's love?Dainty and gladsome beams of my delight;Delicious brows, why smile your heavens for thoseThat, wounding you, prove poor Orlando's foes?Lend me your plaints, you sweet Arcadian nymphs,That wont to sing your new-departed loves;Thou weeping flood, leavé Orpheus' wail for me;And, Titan's nieces, gather all in oneThose fluent springs of your lamenting tears,And let them stream along my faintful looks.Shep.[aside]. Now is the fire, late smother'd in suspect,Kindled, and burns within his angry breast:Now have I done the will of Sacripant.Orl. Fœmineum servile genus, crudele, superbum:Discourteous women, nature's fairest ill,The woe of man, that first-created curse,Base female sex, sprung from black Ate's loins,Proud, disdainful, cruel, and unjust,Whose words are shaded with enchanting wiles,Worse than Medusa mateth all our minds;And in their hearts sits shameless treachery,Turning a truthless vile circumference.O, could my fury paint their furies forth!For hell's no hell, comparèd to their hearts,Too simple devils to conceal their arts;Born to be plagues unto the thoughts of men,Brought for eternal pestilence to the world.O femminile ingegno, dituttimali sede,Come ti volgi e muti facilmente,Contrario oggetto proprio de la fede!O infelice, O miser chi ti crede!Importune, superbe, dispettose,Prive d'amor, di fede e di consiglio,Timerarie, crudeli, inique, ingrate,Per pestilenzia eterna al mondo nate.[152]Villain, what art thou that followest me?Org.Alas, my lord, I am your servant, Orgalio.Orl.No, villain, thou art Medor; that rann'st away with Angelica.Org.No, by my troth, my lord, I am Orgalio; ask all these people else.Orl.Art thou Orgalio? tell me where Medor is.Org.My lord, look where he sits.Orl.What, sits he here, and braves me too?Shep.No, truly, sir, I am not he.Orl.Yes, villain. [Draws him in by the leg.Org.Help, help, my lord of Aquitain!

Enter theDuke of AquitainandSoldiers.

Back to Index Next