The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume III

by Aphra Behn

ACT III.

SCENE I. The apartments of Alcippus.

Enter Alcippus and Pisaro.

Pis. ‘Tis much, my Lord, you’ll not be satisfy’d.

Alcip. Friendship’s too near a-kin to Love, Pisaro,
To leave me any Peace, whilst in your Eyes
I read Reserves, which ‘tis not kind to hide;
—Come, prithee tell me what the quarrel was,
And who ‘twas with; thou shalt, my dear Pisaro.

Pis. Nay, now you urge me to impossibility: Good faith, I cannot tell, but guess the Prince.

Alcip. ‘Tis true, Pisaro, ‘twas indeed the Prince. But what was th’occasion?

Pis. He call’d me Spy, and I return’d th’affront,
But took no notice that he was my Prince:
It was a Folly I repented of;
But ‘twas in a damn’d melancholy Mood.

Alcip. Was it a going in or coming out?

Pis. From whence?

Alcip. Erminia’s Chamber; prithee let me know, For I have fears that take away my sleep, Fears that will make me mad, stark mad, Pisaro.

Pis. You do not well to fear without a cause.

Alcip. O Friend, I saw what thou canst ne’er conceive;
Last night I saw it when I came from thee:
And if thou go’st about t’impose upon me,
I’ll cast thee from my Soul. Come out with it,
I see thy breast heave with a generous ardour,
As if it scorn’d to harbour a reserve,
Which stood not with its Amity to me.
Could I but know my Fate, I could despise it:
But when ‘tis clad in Robes of Innocence,
The Devil cannot ‘scape it: Something
Was done last night that gnaws my heart-strings;
And many things the Princess too let fall,
Which, Gods! I know not how to put together.
And prithee be not thou a Ridler too:
But if thou knew’st of ought that may concern me,
Make me as wise as thou art.

Pis. Sir, you are of so strange a jealous Humour,
And I so strangely jealous of your Honour,
That ‘twixt us both we may make work enough;
But on my Soul I know no wrong you have.

Alcip. I must believe thee, yet methinks thy Face Has put on an unwonted gravity.

Pis. That, Alcippus, you’ll not wonder at, When you shall know you are my Rival.

Alcip. Nay, why shouldst thou delay me thus with stories? This shall not put me off.

Pis. Sir, I’m in earnest, you have gain’d that Heart,
For which I have receiv’d so many wounds;
Venturing for Trophies where none durst appear,
To gain at my Return one single smile,
Or that she would submit to hear my story:
And when sh’has said, ‘twas bravely done, Pisaro,
I thought the Glory recompens’d the Toil;
And sacrificed my Laurels at her feet,
Like those who pay their first-fruits to the Gods,
To beg a blessing on the following Crop:
And never made her other signs of Love,
Nor knew I that I had that easy flame,
Till by her Eyes I found that she was mortal,
And could love too, and that my Friend is you.

Alcip. Thou hast amaz’d me, prithee speak more clearly.

Pis. My Lord, the Princess has a passion for you, Have I not reason now to be your Enemy?

Alcip. Not till I make returns: But now I’m past redemption miserable. ’.was she Erminia told me dy’d for me; And I believ’d it but a slight of hers, To put me from my Courtship.

Pis. No, ‘twas a fatal Truth:
Alcippus, hadst thou seen her, whilst the Priest
Was giving thee to fair Erminia,
What languishment appear’d upon her Eyes,
Which never were remov’d from thy lov’d Face,
Through which her melting Soul in drops distill’d,
As if she meant to wash away thy Sin,
In giving up that Right belong’d to her,
Thou hadst without my aid found out this truth:
A sweet composure dwelt upon her looks,
Like Infants who are smiling whilst they die;
Nor knew she that she wept, so unconcern’d
And freely did her Soul a passage find;
Whilst I transported had almost forgot
The Reverence due t’her sacred self and Place,
And every moment ready was to kneel,
And with my lips gather the precious drops,
And rob the Holy Temple of a Relick,
Fit only there t’inhabit.

Alcip. I never thought thou’dst had this Softness in thee. How cam’st thou, Friend, to hide all this from me?

Pis. My Lord, I knew not that I was a Lover;
I felt no flame, but a religious Ardour,
That did inspire my Soul with adoration;
And so remote I was from ought but such,
I knew not Hope, nor what it was to wish
For other blessings than to gaze upon her:
Like Heaven I thought she was to be possess’d,
Where carnal Thoughts can no admittance find;
And had I not perceiv’d her Love to you,
I had not known the nature of my flame:
But then I found it out by Jealousy,
And what I took for a Seraphick motion,
I now decline as criminal and earthly.

Alcip. When she can love to a discovery,
It shows her Passion eminent and high;
—But I am married—to a Maid that hates me:
What help for that, Pisaro?
And thou hast something too to say of her,
What was’t? for now thou hast undone me quite.

Pis. I have nought to say to her dishonour, Sir,
But something may be done may give you cause
To stand upon your Guard;
And if your Rage do not the mastery get,
I cannot doubt but what you’ll be happy yet.

Alcip. Without Erminia that can hardly be,
And yet I find a certain shame within
That will not suffer me to see the Princess;
I have a kind of War within my Soul,
My Love against my Glory and my Honour;
And I could wish,—alas, I know not what:
Prithee instruct me.

Pis. Sir, take a resolution to be calm,
And not like Men in love abandon Reason.
—You may observe the actions of these Lovers,
But be not passionate whate’er you find;
That headstrong Devil will undo us all;
If you’ll be happy, quit its company.

Alcip. I fain would take thy counsel— [Pauses.

Pis. Come, clear up, my Lord, and do not hang the head
Like Flowers in storms; the Sun will shine again.
Set Galatea’s Charms before your Eyes,
Think of the Glory to divide a Kingdom;
And do not waste your noble Youth and Time
Upon a peevish Heart you cannot gain.
This day you must to th’.amp, and in your absence
I’ll take upon me what I scorn’d last night,
The Office of a Spy—
Believe me, Sir, for by the Gods I swear,
I never wish’d the glory of a Conquest
With half that zeal as to compose these differences.

Alcip. I do believe thee, and will tell thee something That past between the Prince and I last night; And then thou wilt conclude me truly miserable.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. The Palace.

Enter Falatius, Labree, as passing by they meet Cleontius.

Cle. Your Servant, my Lord. —So coldly, stay—your reason, Sir.

[Fal. puts off his Hat a little, and passes on.

Fal. How mean you, Sir?

Cle. Do you not know me?

Fal. Yes, I have seen you, and think you are Cleontius, A Servant of the Prince’s; wert i’th’ Campania too, If I mistake not.

Cle. Can you recal me by no better instances?

Fal. What need of any, pray?

Cle. I am a Gentleman.

Fal. Ha, Labree, what means he now?
By Jove, I do not question it, Cleontius:
What need this odd Punctilio?
I call thee to no account.

Cle. That’s more than I can say to you, Sir.

Fal. I’ll excuse you for that.

Cle. But shall not need, Sir; stay, I have a Sister.

Fal. Oh, the Devil, now he begins.

Cle. A handsome Sister too, or you deceiv’d her.

Lab. Bear up, Sir, be not huft. [Aside.

Fal. It may be so, but is she kind, Cleontius? [Fal. bears up.

Cle. What mean you by that word?

Lab. Again, Sir, here’s two to one. [Aside.

Fal. Will she do reason, or so? you understand me.

Cle. I understand that thou’rt an impudent fellow, Whom I must cudgel into better manners.

Fal. Pox on’t, who bears up now, Labree?

Cle. Beat thee till thou confess thou art an Ass, And on thy knees confess it to Isillia, Who after that shall scorn thee.

Lab. Railly with him, Sir, ‘tis your only way, and put it Off with a jest; for he’s in fury, but dares not Strike i’th’ Court.

Fal. But must you needs do this, needs fight, Cleontius?

Cle. Yes, by all means, I find my self inclin’d to’t.

Fal. You shall have your desire, Sir, farewel.

Cle. When, and where?

Fal. Faith, very suddenly, for I think it will not be
Hard to find men of your trade,
Men that will fight as long as you can do,
And Men that love it much better than I,
Men that are poor and damn’d, fine desperate Rogues,
Rascals that for a Pattacoon a Man
Will fight their Fathers,
And kiss their Mothers into peace again:
Such, Sir, I think will fit you.

Cle. Abusive Coward, hast thou no sense of honour?

Fal. Sense of honour! ha, ha, ha, poor Cleontius.

Enter Aminta and Olinda.

Am. How now, Servant, why so jovial?

Fal. I was laughing, Madam—at—

Cle. At what, thou thing of nothing—

Am. Cousin Cleontius, you are angry.

Cle. Madam, it is unjustly then, for Fools Should rather move the Spleen to Mirth than Anger.

Am. You’ve too much wit to take ought ill from him: Let’s know your quarrel.

Fal. By Jove, Labree, I am undone again.

Cle. Madam, it was about—

Fal. Hold, dear Cleontius, hold, and I’ll do any thing. [Aside.

Cle. Just nothing—

Fal. He was a little too familiar with me.

Cle. Madam, my Sister Isillia—

Fal. A curse, he will out with it— [Aside, pulls him by the Arm.

Cle. Confess she is your Mistress. [Aside.

Fal. I call my Mistress, Madam.

Am. My Cousin Isillia your Mistress! Upon my word, you are a happy Man.

Fal. By Jove, if she be your Cousin, Madam, I love her much the better for’t.

Am. I am beholding to you, But then it seems I have lost a Lover of you.

Cle. Confess she has, or I’ll so handle you.

[Ex. Labree.

Fal. That’s too much, Cleontius—but I will,
By Jove, Madam, I must not have a Mistress that
Has more Wit than my self, they ever require
More than a Man’s able to give them.

Oli. Is this your way of Courtship to Isillia?

[Ex. Cle.

Fal. By Jove, Ladies, you get no more of that from me, ’.is that has spoiled you all; I find Alcander can Do more with a dumb show, than I with all my Applications and Address.

Oli. Why, my Brother can speak.

Fal. Yes, if any body durst hear him; by Jove, if you
Be not kind to him, he’ll hector you all; I’ll get
The way on’t too, ‘tis the most prosperous one; I see no
Other reason you have to love Alcander
Better than I.

Am. Why should you think I do?

Fal. Devil, I see’t well enough by your continual Quarrels with him.

Am. Is that so certain a proof?

Fal. Ever while you live, you treat me too Well ever to hope.

Enter Alcander, kneels, offers his Sword to Aminta.

—What new Masquerade’s this? by Jove, Alcander
Has more tricks than a dancing Bear.

Am. What mean you by this present?

Alcan. Kill me.

Am. What have you done to merit it?

Alcan. Do not ask, but do’t.

Am. I’ll have a reason first.

Alcan. I think I’ve kill’d Pisaro.

Am. My Brother dead! [She falls into the arms of Oli.

Fal. Madam, look up, ‘tis I that call.

Am. I care not who thou beest, but if a Man, Revenge me on Alcander. [She goes out with Oli.

Fal. By Jove, she has mistook her Man,
This ‘tis to be a Lover now:
A Man’s never out of one broil or other;
But I have more Wit than Aminta this bout. [Offers to go.

Alcan. Come back and do your duty e’er you go. [Pulls him.

Fal. I owe you much, Alcander.

Alcan. Amimta said you should revenge her on me.

Fal. Her Word’s not Law I hope.

Alcan. And I’ll obey—

Fal. That may do much indeed.
[Fal. answers with great signs of fear.

Alcan. This, if thou wert a Man, she bad thee do, Why dost thou shake?

Fal. No, no, Sir, I am not the man she meant.

Alcan. No matter, thou wilt serve as well. A Lover! and canst disobey thy Mistress?

Fal. I do disown her, since she is so wicked To bid me kill my Friend. Why, thou’rt my Friend, Alcander.

Alcan. I’ll forgive thee that.

Fal. So will not his Majesty: I may be hang’d for’t.

Alcan. Thou should’st be damn’d e’er disobey thy Mistress.

Fal. These be degrees of Love I am not yet arriv’d at; When I am, I shall be as ready to be damn’d In honour as any Lover of you all.

Alcan. Ounds, Sir, d’ye railly with me?

Fal. Your pardon, sweet Alcander, I protest I am Not in so gay an humour.

Alcan. Farewell, I had forgot my self. [Exit.

Fal. Stark mad, by Jove—yet it may be not, for Alcander has many unaccountable humours. Well, if this be agreeable to Aminta, she’s e’en as mad As he, and ‘twere great pity to part them.

Enter Pisaro, Aminta, and Olinda.

Am. Well, have you kill’d him?

Fal. Some wiser than some, Madam. —My Lord—what, alive?— [Sees Pisaro, runs to him, and embraces him.

Pis. Worth two dead men, you see.

Fal. That’s more than I could have said within
This half hour. Alcander’s very Orlando, by Jove, and gone
To seek out one that’s madder yet than himself
That will kill him.

Am. Oh, dear Falatius, run and fetch him back.

Fal. Madam, I have so lately ‘scap’d a scouring,
That I wish you would take it for a mark
Of my Passion to disobey you;
For he is in a damn’d humour.

Am. He’s out of it by this, I warrant you; But do not tell him that Pisaro lives.

Fal. That’s as I shall find occasion. [Exit Fal.

Pis. Alcander is a worthy Youth and brave, I wish you would esteem him so; ’.is true, there’s now some difference between us, Our Interests are dispos’d to several ways, But Time and Management will join us all: I’ll leave you; but prithee make it thy business To get my Pardon for last night’s rudeness.

Am. I shall not fail.

[Exit Pis.

Re-enter Falatius, with Alcander melancholy.

Fal. Here, Madam, here he is.

Am. Tell me, Alcander, why you treat me thus? You say you love me, if I could believe you.

Alcan. Believe a Man! away, you have no wit, I’ll say as much to every pretty Woman.

Am. But I have given you no cause to wrong me.

Alcan. That was my Fate, not Fault, I knew him not:
But yet to make up my offence to you,
I offer you my life; for I’m undone,
If any faults of mine should make you sad.

Am. Here, take your Sword again, my Brother’s well.
[She gives him his Sword again.

Fal. Yes, by Jove, as I am: you had been finely serv’d, If I had kill’d you now.

Am. What, sorry for the news? ha, ha, ha.

Alcan. No, sorry y’are a Woman, a mere Woman.

Am. Why, did you ever take me for a Man? ha, ha.

Alcan. Thy Soul, I thought, was all so; but I see
You have your weakness, can dissemble too;
—I would have sworn that Sorrow in your face
Had been a real one:
Nay, you can die in jest, you can, false Woman:
I hate thy Sex for this.

Fal. By Jove, there is no truth in them, that’s flat.
[She looks sad.

Alcan. Why that repentant look? what new design?
Come, now a tear or two to second that,
And I am soft again, a very Ass.
—But yet that Look would call a Saint from th’.ltar,
And make him quite forget his Ceremony,
Or take thee for his Deity:
—But yet thou hast a very Hell within,
Which those bewitching Eyes draw Souls into.

Fal. Here’s he that fits you, Ladies.

Am. Nay, now y’are too unjust, and I will leave you.

Alcan. Ah, do not go, I know not by what Magick, [Holds her. But as you move, my Soul yields that way too.

Fal. The truth on’t is, she has a strong magnetick Power, that I find.

Alcan. But I would have none find it but my self, No Soul but mine shall sympathize with hers.

Fal. Nay, that you cannot help.

Alcan. Yes, but I can, and take it from thee, if I thought it did so.

Oli. No quarrels here, I pray.

Fal. Madam, I owe a Reverence to the Place.

Alcan. I’ll scarce allow thee that; Madam, I’ll leave you to your Lover.

Am. I hate thee but for saying so.

Alcan. Quit him then.

Am. So I can and thee too. [Offers to go out.

Alcan. The Devil take me if you escape me so. [Goes after her.

Fal. And I’ll not be out-done in importunity.

[Goes after.

SCENE III. Galatea’s Apartments.

Enter Galatea and Erminia.

Er. And ‘tis an act below my Quality, Which, Madam, will not suffer me to fly.

Gal. Erminia, e’er you boast of what you are,
Since you’re so high I’ll tell you what you were:
Your Father was our General ‘tis true,
That Title justly to his Sword was due;
’.was nobly gain’d, and worth his Blood and Toils,
Had he been satisfied with noble Spoils:
But with that single honour not content,
He needs must undermine the Government;
And ‘cause h’ad gain’d the Army to his side,
Believ’d his Treason must be justify’d.
For this (and justly) he was banished;
Where whilst a low and unknown life he led,
Far from the hope and glory of a Throne,
In a poor humble Cottage you were born;
Your early Beauty did it self display,
Nor could no more conceal it self than Day:
Your Eyes did first Philander’s Soul inspire,
And Fortune too conform’d her to his fire.
That made your Father greater than before,
And what he justly lost that did restore.
’.was that which first thy Beauty did disclose,
Which else had wither’d like an unseen Rose;
’.was that which brought thee to the Court, and there
Dispos’d thee next my self, i’th’ highest Sphere:
Alas, obscurely else thou’dst liv’d and died,
Not knowing thy own Charms, nor yet this Pride.

Er. Madam, in this your Bounty is severe,
Be pleas’d to spare that repetition here.
I hope no Action of my Life should be
So rude to charge your Generosity:
But, Madam, do you think it just to pay
Your great Obligements by so false a way?
_Alcippus’. Passion merits some return,
And should that prove but an ingrateful scorn?
Alas, I am his Wife; to disobey,
My Fame as well as Duty I betray.

Gal. Perfidious Maid, I might have thought thou’dst prove
False to thy Prince, and Rival in my Love.
I thought too justly he that conquer’d me
Had a sufficient power to captive thee;
Thou’st now reveng’d thy Father’s shame and thine,
In taking thus Philander’s Life and mine.

[Er. weeps.

Er. Ah, Madam, that you would believe my tears,
Or from my Vows but satisfy your Fears.
By all the Gods, Alcippus I do hate,
And would do any thing to change my fate;
Ought that were just and noble I dare do.

Gal. Enough, Erminia, I must credit you,
And will no other proof of it require,
But that you’ll now submit to my desire;
Indeed, Erminia, you must grant my suit,
Where Love and Honour calls, make no dispute.
Pity a Youth that never lov’d before,
Remember ‘tis a Prince that does adore;
Who offers up a Heart that never found
It could receive, till from your Eyes, a wound.

Er. To your command should I submit to yield, Where could I from Alcippus be conceal’d? What could defend me from his jealous Rage?

Gal. Trust me, Erminia, I’ll for that engage.

Er. And then my Honour by that flight’s o’erthrown.

Gal. That being Philander’s, he’ll preserve his own; And that, Erminia, sure you’ll ne’er distrust.

Er. Ah, Madam, give me leave to fear the worst.

Enter Aminta.

Am. Madam, Alcippus waits for your Commands, He’s going to the Camp.

Gal. Admit him.

Enter Alcippus and Pisaro.

Gal. Alcippus, ‘tis too soon to leave Erminia.

Alcip. I wish she thought so, Madam,
Or could believe with what regret I do so;
She then would think the fault were much too small
For such a Penance as my Soul must suffer.

Am. No matter, Sir, you have the Year before you.

Alcip. Yes, Madam, so has every Galley Slave,
That knows his Toil, but not his Recompence:
To morrow I expect no more content,
Than this uneasy Day afforded me;
And all before me is but one grand piece
Of endless Grief and Madness:
—You, Madam, taught Erminia to be cruel,
A Vice without your aid she could have learnt;
And now to exercise that new taught Art,
She tries the whole experience on my Heart.

Gal. If she do so, she learnt it not of me,
I love, and therefore know no Cruelty:
Such outrage cannot well with Love reside,
Which only is the mean effect of Pride:
—I merit better thoughts from you, Alcippus.

Alcip. Pardon me, Madam, if my Passion stray
Beyond the limits of my high respect; [He kneels.
—’Tis a rude gust, and merits your reproaches:
But yet the saucy Flame can ne’er controul
That Adoration which I owe my Princess:
That, with Religion, took possession here,
And in my Prayers I mix with you the Deities.

Gal. I’ad rather you should treat me as a Mortal, Rise and begin to do so.

[He rises and bows.

Alcip. Now, Madam, what must I expect from you?

Er. Alcippus, all that’s to your Virtue due.

Alcip. In that but common Justice you allow.

Er. That Justice, Sir, is all I can bestow.

Alcip. In justice then you ought to me resign,
That which the Holy Priest intitled mine;
Yet that, without your Heart, I do despise,
For uncompell’d I’d have that sacrifice:
—Come ease me of that Pain that presses here,
Give me but Hope that may secure my Fear,
I’m not asham’d to own my Soul possest
With Jealousy, that takes away my rest.
—Tell me you’ll love, or that my Suit is vain,
Do any thing to ease me of my pain.
Gods, Madam, why d’ye keep me in suspence?
This cannot be the effects of Innocence;
By Heaven, I’ll know the cause, where e’er it lies,
Nor shall you fool me with your feign’d disguise.

Pis. You do forget your promise, and this Presence.
[Aside to Alcip.

Alcip. ‘Twas kindly urg’d, prithee be near me still, And tell me of the faults that look unmanly.

Gal. Dear, if thou lov’st me, flatter him a little. [To Er. aside.

Er. ‘Tis hard to do, yet I will try it, Madam.

Gal. I’ll leave you, that you may the better do so. —I hope, Alcippus, you’ll revisit us With Lover’s speed: And whatsoever treatment now you find, At your return you’ll find us much more kind. [He bows, she goes out.

Alcip. Can you forgive the rashness of a Man, That knows no other Laws but those of Passion?

Er. You are unkind to think I do not, Sir;
—Yes, and am grown so softned by my pity,
That I’m afraid I shall neglect my Vows,
And to return your Passion, grow ingrate.

Alcip. A few more syllables express’d like these, Will raise my Soul up to the worst extreme, And give me with your Scorn an equal torment.

Er. See what power your language has upon me. [Weeps.

Alcip. Ah, do not weep, a tear or two’s enough
For the Completion of your Cruelty,
That when it fail’d to exercise your will,
Sent those more powerful Weapons from your Eyes,
And what by your severity you mist of,
These (but a more obliging way) perform.
Gently, Erminia, pour the Balsam in,
That I may live, and taste the sweets of Love.
—Ah, should you still continue, as you are,
Thus wondrous good, thus excellently fair,
I should retain my growing name in War,
And all the Glories I have ventur’d for,
And fight for Crowns to recompense thy Bounty.
—This can your Smiles; but when those Beams are clouded,
Alas, I freeze to very Cowardice,
And have not Courage left to kill my self.

Er. A Fate more glorious does that Life attend, And does preserve you for a nobler end.

Alcip. Erminia, do not sooth my easy Heart, For thou my Fate, and thou my Fortune art; Whatever other blessings Heaven design, Without my dear Erminia, I’ll decline. Yet, Madam, let me hope before I go, In pity that you ought to let me do: ’.is all you shall allow m’impatient heart.

Er. That’s what against my will I must impart: But wish it please the Gods, when next we meet, We might as Friends, and not as Lovers greet.

[Exeunt.