FOOTNOTES:
[281] Peradventure. Dr Johnson observes that in this sense happily is written erroneously for haply—haply being merely a contracted form of the other.]
"One thing more I shall wish you to desire of them, who happily may peruse these two treatises."—Digby.
[282] Habington has the same thought in his "Castara," edit. 1640, p. 51—
"Would Castara were
The daughter of some mountain-cottager,
Who, with his toil worn out, could dying leave
Her no more dowre than what she did receive
From bounteous nature; her would I then lead
To th' temple, rich in her own wealth."
—Steevens.
[283] [Old copy, love.]
[284] [Old copy, thought.]
[ACT IV., SCENE I.]
Enter Cleantha and Floriana.
Flo. Thy pride is such a flatterer of thy beauty,
That no man sighs by accident, but thou
Dost pity as enamour'd.
Cle. Floriana!
Not so kind-natur'd, surely. I have put
The sighs of courtiers in a scale, and find
Some threescore thousand may weigh down a feather;
I have tried their tears which, though of briny taste,
Can only season the hearts of fools, not women.
Their vows are like their duels, ever grounded
Upon the idlest quarrel.
Flo. This experience
Perhaps instructs you to; but yet your pride,
I fear, is over-easy to believe.
'Tis merely to fly idleness that my lord
Hath troubled you with courtship: if the queen
Would make a statesman, she might cure a lover.
Want of employment made him dream on beauty,
And yours came first t' his fancy.
Cle. I begin
To think his making love but vanity,
And a mistake in wit.
Flo. And you begin
Perhaps to fear it?
Cle. True, perhaps I do;
For though we care not for the lover, yet
We love the passion: though we scorn the offering,
We grieve to see it thrown away, and envy,
If consecrated to another. Woman
Hath no revenge 'gainst th' injury of custom,
Which gives man superiority, but thus
To fool it to subjection.
Flo. Yet, Cleantha,
I could have wish'd your charity had spar'd
This triumph o'er my lord.
Cle. You see I take
The next way to redeem him. This the hour,
And this the place. Here he resolves to raise
A trophy in my ruin: and behold—
Enter Sanmartino, winding up his watch.
The just man of his promise! Not a minute
He fails when sin's the payment.
Flo. I'll endanger
His virtue to a blush, and happily
Convert an infidel.
Cle. This is my province,
Nor shall you envy me the honour of
A work so meritorious. Let him walk
Awhile, and sin with his own fancy; then
I'll undertake him, and if there be need,
Be you prepared to assist me.
Flo. Thou dost build
Such forts on the opinion of thy wit!
[Exeunt Floriana and Cleantha.
San. 'Tis a full hour, and half a minute over,
And yet she not appears! How we severe
Strict creditors in love stand on the minute,
But yet the payment never comes unwelcome;
Until the gold through age grow foul and rusty,
We stand not on a grain or two too light.
Enter Browfildora.
Now your discovery?
Brow. My lord, I have
Made search in every alley, every arbour,
Not left a bush wherein my littleness
Could creep without due scrutiny; and yet
No whispering of taffaty: no dazzling
Of your bright mistress forc'd me to a wink.
I saw no mortal beauty.
San. Sure, she'll not
Be so unworthy to delude me now!
Brow. But I had a more prosperous fate in love.
My lord, I met my mistress.
San. You a mistress!
Brow. A mistress, to whose beauty I have paid
My vows, most fervent vows, e'er since I was
Of stature fit to be an amorist.
San. One of the maids-of-honour to Queen Mab?
Brow. Your lordship guesses near; for she is one
O' th' chamberers to her Fairy Majesty:
A lady of most subtle wit, who, while
She puts a handkerchief or gorget on,
Her little highness holds intelligence.
She raiseth factions, and unites the angry:
She's much upon design.
San. Where found you her?
Brow. Walking alone, under the shadow of
A tulip, and inveighing 'gainst court-arts,
'Cause one of Oberon's grooms had got from her
The monopoly of transporting gnats—
A project she long aim'd at.
San. No more fooling:
I am grown angry with my patience.
Boy, sing those verses were presented me
This morning.
Brow. I will creep behind a bush,
And then for voice vie with the nightingale:
If seen, I am so bashful.
San. Take your way.
Song (without).
Fine young folly, though you were
That fair beauty I did swear,
Yet you ne'er could reach my heart;
For we courtiers learn at school
Only with your sex to fool;
Y'are not worth the serious part.
When I sigh and kiss your hand,
Cross my arms, and wond'ring stand,
Holding parley with your eye:
Then dilate on my desires,
Swear the sun ne'er shot such fires;
All is but a handsome lie.
When I eye your curl or lace,
Gentle soul, you think your face
Straight some murder doth commit;
And your virtue doth begin
To grow scrupulous of my sin,
When I talk to show my wit.
Therefore, madam, wear no cloud,
Nor to check my love grow proud;
In sooth I much do doubt,
'Tis the powder in your hair,
Not your breath, perfumes the air,
And your clothes that set you out.
Yet though truth has this confess'd,
And I vow I love in jest:
When I next begin to court,
And protest an amorous flame,
You will swear I in earnest am:
Bedlam! this is pretty sport.
As the song ends, enter Cleantha veiled.
She breaks forth like the morning in a cloud.
'Tis for the safety of my eyes you veil
The glory of your beauties, which else might
Dazzle, not catch the sight; but I discern
A fair Cleantha through this gloominess.
Appear and speak, bright madam. Why such silence?
O, famish not my ear, which greedily
Longs to devour the music of your language:
Is it to teach me that delight must be
Entomb'd in secrecy, or else to show
How mad a spendthrift I'm to talk away
The treasure of this hour? Come, fair, unveil.
Cle. O, give me leave yet to retain my blushes.
San. Deceit of timorous modesty! Traitors
To love your blushes are: your fears are envious
Of your delights. Let's vanish hence, and ne'er
To th' vulgar eye appear, till we,
Grown old in pleasure, be transform'd t' a vine
Or ivy, so for ever to entwine.
Cle. Then I unveil.
San. O, fly into my arms,
As a rich odour to the ravish'd sense!
Perfume me with thy kisses.
Cle. Stay, my lord!
Actions of moment (as I take this is)
Must be maturely thought on. I have call'd
My reason to account.
San. Your reason, madam!
Cle. Yes, my good lord: that only doth distinguish
A woman from brute beasts; or, what's more sensual,
A vain loose man. What sin scandals my carriage,
To give encouragement to this presumption?
What privileg'd this attempt?
San. That tempting beauty.
Cle. It is a traitor then to my pure thoughts;
And, to preserve your eye, would it were wrinkled:
I could much easier suffer the reproach
Of age than your bold courtship. If a lady
Be young and sportive, use curiosity,
And perhaps art, to help where nature seem'd
Imperfect in her work, will you, from the
False argument of your own loose blood, conclude
Her guilty? Or, if she select a friend,
Whose innocence gives warrant to her faith,
Will you infer their whispers have no aim
But that of brothels? 'Cause you find yourself
Nought but loose flesh, will you turn heretic,
And thence deny the soul?
San. This language, madam,
Sounds nothing to the purpose of our meeting.
Cle. More to the benefit. But in your patent,
'Mong all the privileges of a Conde,
Where find you lust inserted? Without which,
Till age hath made you wise or impotent,
You think your honour is defective. 'Cause
Your clothes are handsome and mine too, must we
Deform our minds? Is it sufficient motive
To sin, if opportunity and youth
Persuade us? Such as you are those foul plagues
Infect the air which breathes our fame, and make
The cautious sirs o' th' country shun us.
San. Madam!
Cle. When we admit you to our bed-chamber,
Powder, or haply bathe before you; what
Of honour's here more than a groom may boast
Our maids are tir'd with? Yet this with a smile
Is whisper'd to your friend, and you infer
How easy a more near approach will be.
My lord, learn virtue, and your wit may then
Not serve you to so fond a purpose. If
That courage you are famed for be no slander,
Go to the wars. 'Twill be a far less maim
To lose an eye there than your honour here.
If peace enamour you, and the court, live honest:
And hope the heir, who shall succeed you, may
Be yours. Revenge destroys more chastity
Than all the temptings of such lords as you.
San. You shall not talk me, madam, from that pleasure
This hour doth promise me.
Cle. You'll not commit
A rape, my lord?
San. That is a question as
Yet unresolv'd; for force is my last refuge.
Cle. Think on the danger; for the sin, I see,
Little distracts your conscience.
San. I propose
Felicity, which none can merit who
Refuse so poor a venture. Here I vow,
No prayer or art shall free you. If you will
Hazard a life devoted to your service,
I'll die your martyr.
Cle. Come, my lord, I'll free you
From all such hazard.
San. There spoke harmony!
Cle. I'll not be cruel. You shall have kisses, such
As will melt your soul into your lips: and what
Is sweetest, no repentance shall be th' issue
Enter Floriana and Oniate.
Of your delight. Look here, my lord! She's yours.
San. No halter now nor tree convenient? O!
A steeple would be precious for my purpose!
But Oniate's there. I'll fight with him,
Be kill'd and be redeem'd. Sir, you receiv'd
A challenge from me! but return'd no answer.
Oni. My lord, I had other business; you'll excuse me.
San. What satisfaction do men give when challeng'd?
Oni. According to their spirit: if they be
Regardless of their fame, then they submit;
If not, they fight.
San. What, sir, will you then do?
Oni. Let me consider. Neither.
San. Come, you shall fight.
Oni. My lord, I will not.
San. Then you shall subscribe
Yourself a coward.
Oni. Not for the whole world!
Such an apparent lie would be a sin
Too heavy to my conscience. I subscribe
Myself a coward! If I should, no soldier
Would think but that my hand were counterfeited.
San. Then you must fight.
Oni. My lord, on no condition. Hope not for it.
San. Then you shall swear never to speak my name
But with respect.
Oni. Hereafter, if you can
Deserve it. For the present I must crave
Your pardon with much mirth to laugh at you.
San. Sir, I shall meet you.
Oni. It shall contradict
All my endeavours then.
San. I go, sir. But—— [Exit Sanmartino.
Cle. For mercy sake, go with thy lord. Repentance
May turn to desperation.
Flo. I'll preserve him. [Exit.
Cle. Have you no business, sir, imports you more,
Than t' hold discourse with me? Troth, I shall pity
You want employment.
Oni. Madam, what can be
More serious?
Cle. Nothing more, if your design
Be to convert me: for I know you hold
All ladies in a schism who are young and proud.
Oni. Your pardon, madam. I believe you[285] cunning
Court-ladies choose some petty venial errors
To set perfection off; for should you not
Usurp a handsome pride, your fame would lie,
Like unwall'd cities, open to the prey
Of each invading youth. Did you not show
A scorn, you would deserve it.
Cle. Sir, take heed.
Hope not to win my favour by extolling
What in our better thoughts we ourselves condemn.
I am so wearied out with vows and oaths,
With impious praises and most tedious flattery,
That nothing but plain-speaking truth can gain
On my affection.
Oni. Madam, your affection?
Cle. Pray, sir, do not comment upon the word;
It doth portend no danger to you.
Oni. And if it did, where's the beatitude?
For though I grant your virtues great as beauty
Can entertain, and foolish I resolv'd
To captivate my stock of life t' a woman,
Yet would I not adventure on you, if
You did not vow to perform articles.
Cle. Suppose the business come to articles?
Oni. I' th' first then, you should covenant love; not squinting
On every finer youth or greater lord,
But looking straight on me.
Cle. To the second, sir.
Oni. No dotage on the court, so far that my
Estate must rue it; and no vanity
Be started up, but my fond lady must
Be melancholy, and take physic till
She get into it.
Cle. Why, you envy then
Us our own trouble; keep us from the expense,
And leave us to our discontent for penance.
Oni. No! I would have the mind serene: without
All passion, though a masque should be presented,
And you i' th' country. I must have you wise,
To know your beauty mortal, which you must
Preserve to warm my eye, not aid by arts,
To keep the courtier's wit in exercise.
From his so practis'd flattery your ear
Must turn with a brave scorn; and when his eye
Doth offer parley, seem so ignorant
As not to understand the language.
Cle. Sir,
You haply will debar us our she-friends too?
Oni. As secret enemies, who'll first betray you.
Cle. You'll not allow us, wearied of our husbands,
To send them on discovery of new worlds?
Or if we take a toy ourselves to travel,
Perhaps to Barbary or Tartary,
Or the remotest parts?
Oni. To Bedlam sooner.
Cle. Or, if our sex should warrant it by custom,
To play at tennis, or run at the ring,
Or any other martial exercise:
I fear me, scrupulous sir, you will condemn it
As dangerous to my honour?
Oni. Sure, I should.
Cle. I then perceive small hope of our agreement.
Oni. But I a confidence; for I discern
How much you loathe these follies you pretend.
Cle. Good sir, no more of this so kind mistake;
You'll find some other lady more deserves it,
And I aspire not to the honour.
Oni. I'll try yet farther. [Exeunt Oniate and Cleantha.
Enter Lerma and Velasco.
Ler. My lord, you offer nobly.
Vel. 'Tis a step
Beneath Florentio's greatness, whether you
His birth consider or his place. Sir, the queen
By nature's seated and her high deserts,
Where only mighty souls (such as the general's)
May offer to aspire.
Ler. My lord, your lapse
To this proud language is so injurious, that
I must be forc'd to purge the humour. That
The Lord Florentio offers by a duel
To show no man can have fairer pretence
To serve the queen, must be allowed; but that
You dare cast disregard upon this lord,
Although a stranger, urgeth me t' intreat
You'd draw your sword.
Vel. It hath seen light, and made
Way through an army, when fond victory
Smil'd on our enemies: it hath done wonders,
When the thick troops of Moors invaded us.
It fears no opposition.
Ler. Show th' effect of't.
Vel. Not in a cause so trivial. Each small breath
Disturbs the quiet of poor shallow waters;
But winds must arm themselves ere the large sea
Is seen to tremble. Pray your pardon, sir:
I must not throw away my courage on
A cause so trivial.
Ler. As you please, my lord.
But, to omit all circumstance, you bring
A challenge to my Lord Ascanio:
The reason of the Lord Florentio's anger,
A rivalship in love.
Vel. You speak it right.
Ler. I'll bring you back his resolution
Before you have attended many minutes.
Vel. Sir, 'twill be decent, for my nature knows
Not how to wait: and if no delays
Be used, 'twill show a fierce valour in him,
And happily prevent discovery.
For you may easily conjecture, that
A general's absence soon will wake the eye
Of the suspicious soldier.
Ler. Is my lord
In readiness?
Vel. He walks not far from hence.
Ler. You shall have use then but of a short patience. [Exit.
Vel. It will be grateful to us, sir. My lord!
Enter Florentio.
Flo. And will Ascanio meet?
Vel. Immediately.
Flo. I had no other way; yet this is rough,
And justice whispers 'tis unsafe to tread it.
If to love her be sinful, what am I?
How dare I call his passion to the bar,
And nourish it myself? Why may not he,
Who hath as bold a fortune, entertain
As bold a love: and in the fate of war
Having outgone my service, why not then
Present it to the selfsame altar? But
We cannot harbour both in the same port;
Or he or I am shipwreck'd: for the storm
Is rais'd, and, to appease it, death must be
The sacrifice.
Enter Lerma.
Vel. My lord, here is the second.
This stranger dares not meet with your great spirit.
Flo. Suspect him not, my lord: he hath a courage
Above the sense of fear. Well, sir, your answer?
Ler. My Lord Ascanio could have wish'd his life
Might have been destin'd to a happier purpose,
And charged me tell your lordship that he had
Much rather have been lost with common dust
In the cheap churchyard, than endanger'd fame
In this great duel.
Flo. Sir, explain his reasons.
Ler. He calls to his sad thoughts the mischiefs, which
This kingdom needs must fall into, when you
Shall perish by his sword; for certainly
You cannot 'scape it, thus provoking death.
Then to what ruin may the queen, whose safety
You both have labour'd, be engag'd? He could
With patience almost suffer on his name
The infamy of coward, rather than
Hazard the quiet of her estate. But you——
Flo. Let me consider: 'tis an idle rage
That heats me to this quarrel. Let her fate
Remain unshaken, though she choose my foe
Into her love and bosom. If she live
Above the fear of ruin, I am mighty—
Mighty enough, though by my griefs grown feeble,
And weaken'd too: diseases fright the healthy.
I will refer my cause and life to her,
And ne'er dispute it by the sword.
Vel. My lord!
Flo. Velasco, I am safe enough against
The taint of coward. Spain bears witness that
I dare, as far as honour dares give warrant;
But in this cause——
Vel. My lord, you'll lose the glory
Of all your former actions, and become
The mirth of courtiers—empty things, who brawl,
Not fight, if you return after a challenge
Without performance.
Flo. 'Tis a serious truth.
Vel. Moreover, this young gentleman hath hope
To talk you from your resolution.
The Lord Ascanio will too much exult,
If this way too he can o'ercome you.
Flo. It must not be, sir: tell my lord I wait
His leisure.
Ler. And your lordship shall not have
Reason to think it long. Prepare yourself.
His only prayer is now that, when he comes,
There may be no discourse to take up time;
He hath desire the business may be all:
What he can say hath been by me deliver'd. [Exit.
Flo. We will obey him. Tyrant Love! why is
Thy cruelty so wanton, to delight
In murder? Like that impious Roman prince,
Thou joy'st to smother whom thou lov'st in roses,
And stifle them with the choicest perfumes. But
This is no place for reason; she may hold
Dispute in sober schools, where study raises
The soul to knowledge: here's the theatre
For the brute part of man to fight his last.
I must redeem the laurel fortune crown'd
His temples with, or perish in th' attempt:
My fate decrees it.
Enter Ascanio and Lerma.
Ler. Here's my Lord Ascanio.
Flo. Why doth he turn his face away, as if
He durst not look on danger? Do his fears
Now triumph o'er his courage?
Ler. Put it to the trial. [They fight.
Flo. He's more than mortal, sure. He strikes like lightning,
Himself not passive. But I'll try again,
And disenchant the sorcerer. Ay, there
I reach'd him home: you bleed; open your doublet;
The wound, perhaps, is dangerous.
Asc. But a scratch.
Flo. Sure I have heard that voice, and seen that face!
Velasco, 'tis the king.
Asc. My lord, what mean you?
Flo. Some planet strike me dead, and fix this arm
A monument to tell posterity
The treason of my error! Mighty sir,
Show mercy to your creature, that my death
(Which hastily steals on me) may not be
Too foul for after-story.
Asc. Rise, Florentio,
This act cannot endure the name of treason.
Flo. Some surgeons, quick, to search the wound! O sir,
How do you feel yourself? Speak life, or I
Shall sink down to my centre.
Asc. Not a man
Stir hence: thy sword was loyal as thy thoughts,
And scarce hath pierc'd the skin. O my Florentio!
Flo. My lord and king! But why did you engage
Your sacred person into danger? 'Twas not well:
How many thousand lives depend on yours!
Asc. Envy o' th' greatness I possess'd without
The merit, and desire to know those perils
We wantonly our subjects cast upon
On every weak exception, wrought my youth
Into this action. Nor can I repent
Th' experience of this war.
Flo. But, O great sir,
Why did your majesty suffer this duel?
'Twas cruel and unkind. How easily
This hand might have committed sacrilege!
The very thought whereof, like some pale vision,
Congeals my blood.
Asc. Search not that wound too deep.
Florentio! I shall blush—blush like some lady
Surpris'd in sin—if you too far examine.
Flo. Conceal it not, great sir, though in the speaking
Poison steal through my ear. Be confident:
Unveil your thoughts.
Asc. You needs must hate me, then,
And will have justice to throw off that duty
You owe me as a subject. Let it be
Unspoken still, though smothering it be death.
Flo. Good Heaven defend! What is an army of us
Exposed to certain slaughter, if compared
To th' shortest moment that should serve your quiet?
And shall I live, and see my sovereign wear
A sorrow on his brow?
Asc. Florentio! thou
Art glorious in thy virtue. So was I,
Till looking on the queen I grew o' th' sudden
Darker than midnight.
Flo. O my cruel fate! [Aside.
Asc. I grew a thief, a most ungrateful thief
In my designs, and labour'd to have stole
The jewel of thy life from thee; a jewel
Myself so freely had bestowed upon
The merits of thy youth.
Asc. How justly had I perish'd by thy sword!
How happy for my safety! Then had I
Been lost in my disguise, or died, my crime
Unknown unto the world. Now, if I live,
I must wade through a sea of injuries,
T' attain an unsafe haven.
Enter the Queen.
Flo. Cheer yourself,
Dread sir. Though, as I give the legacy,
I breathe my last, yet will I show a heart
Thankful to your great favours. Madam, here
Behold the Sovereign of Castile.
Queen. You have
Been cruel in your kindness, sir, to keep
So long your sacred person hid from us.
Flo. He is your lover, madam, and deserves
The title: whether you observe his youth,
So beauteous nature doats upon her work,
Or weigh his greatness, powerful to defend you
Should fate and all mankind conspire your ruin.
And add to that, he merits you, his sword
Having restored your freedom, when poor I
Was judg'd, like some old instrument of war,
Unfit for service. All my interest
I here resign to th' author of my fate;
My love I cannot, which must still remain
Companion to my life: but I'll take heed
My wound appear not, though it inward bleed. [Exit.
Asc. I wait here, madam, and attend your sentence;
For 'tis my doom.
Queen. I am that sad wretch,
Stands trembling at the bar. I know your merit,
And know a gratitude, great as e'er was owing,
By an injured soul relieved: I duly weigh
That double tie, which doth oblige me yours.
First, when you sent your soldiers to my rescue;
Then, by exposing your most sacred person
To th' dangers of a war.
Asc. A trivial nothing.
Queen. What honour can come equal to my state,
As by so high a match? And 'gainst your person
The envious cannot find a quarrel.
Asc. Madam,
All this is circumstance the politic
Busy their fancy with. I bring a love,
An humble love, which is of value to
Ennoble the parch'd labourer, and force
An empress listen to his vows. Consider
In me nothing of fortune; only look
On that to which love new-created me.
If once receiv'd your servant, what's Castile
In the comparison? For princes are
Too bold, if they bring wealth and victory
To enter competition with those treasures
A lover aims at in his mistress' favour.
May I not hope your smile?
Queen. You must command it.
Asc. Then give me leave to whisper to my hopes
What strange felicities I shall enjoy.
Queen. But, sir, consider how you gave away
To your Florentio all that claim you might
Have to me, as so great a neighbouring prince.
Asc. It was a gift my ignorance made, which I
Was cosen'd in; for had my eye been honour'd
With sight of such a beauty, safer he
Might have petition'd for my sceptre, and
The grant had not so soon begot repentance.
Queen. But promises of princes must not be
By after-arts evaded. Who dares punish
The breach of oath in subjects, and yet slight
The faith he hath made them keep?
Asc. But my Florentio
Hath given me back his interest.
Queen. That gift
Was like a vow extorted, which religion
Cancels, as forc'd from conscience.
Asc. But yourself
Are free, and never by an oath made his.
Queen. My resolution, grounded on his service,
Ties more than formal contracts.
Asc. I'll not urge
You farther, but by these, which never yet
Found passage through my eyes, not he nor all
Mankind, contracted to one heart, can harbour
A love that equals that I burn with. Madam,
Think on't; and let your thoughts find out that path
Which leads to mercy. [Exit Ascanio.
Queen. How I am dazzled,
Plac'd on a precipice by tyrant Love!
The king is noble, and his merits claim
A retribution great as I can make.
He loves me, and yields only to Florentio,
In the priority of service. My sad soul!
Enter Florentio, looks on the Queen, sighs, and goes in again.
Between these two I might stand distracted!
But, virtue, guide me: nor can I e'er stray
While that directs, and honour leads the way. [Exeunt.