Robert Greene: [Six Plays]

by Robert Greene

Remil. Fair queens, yet handmaids unto Rasni's love,
Tell me, is not my state as glorious
As Juno's pomp, when tir'd with heaven's despoil,
Clad in her vestments spotted all with stars,
She cross'd the silver path unto her Jove?
Is not Remilia far more beauteous,
Rich'd with the pride of nature's excellence,
Than Venus in the brightest of her shine?
My hairs, surpass they not Apollo's locks?
Are not my tresses curlèd with such art
As love delights to hide him in their fair?
Doth not mine eye shine like the morning lamp
That tells Aurora when her love will come?
Have I not stol'n the beauty of the heavens,
And plac'd it on the feature of my face?
Can any goddess make compare with me,
Or match her with the fair Remilia?
Alvi. The beauties that proud Paris saw from Troy,
Mustering in Ida for the golden ball,
Were not so gorgeous as Remilia.
Remil. I have trick'd my trammels up with richest balm,
And made my perfumes of the purest myrrh:
The precious drugs that Ægypt's wealth affords,
The costly paintings fetch'd from curious Tyre,
Have mended in my face what nature miss'd.
Am I not the earth's wonder in my looks?
Alvi. The wonder of the earth, and pride of heaven.
Remil. Look, Alvida, a hair stands not amiss;
For women's locks are trammels of conceit,
Which do entangle Love for all his wiles.
Alvi. Madam, unless you coy it trick and trim,
And play the civil[72] wanton ere you yield,
Smiting disdain of pleasures with your tongue,
Patting your princely Rasni on the cheek
When he presumes to kiss without consent,
You mar the market: beauty naught avails:
You must be proud; for pleasures hardly got
Are sweet if once attain'd.
Remil. Fair Alvida,
Thy counsel makes Remilia passing wise.
Suppose that thou wert Rasni's mightiness,
And I Remilia, prince of excellence.
Alvi. I would be master then of love and thee.
Remil. "Of love and me! Proud and disdainful king,
Dar'st thou presume to touch a deity,
Before she grace thee with a yielding smile?"[73]
Alvi. "Tut, my Remilia, be not thou so coy;
Say nay, and take it."[74]
Remil. "Careless and unkind!
Talks Rasni to Remilia in such sort
As if I did enjoy a human form?
Look on thy love, behold mine eyes divine,
And dar'st thou twit me with a woman's fault?
Ah Rasni, thou art rash to judge of me.
I tell thee, Flora oft hath woo'd my lips,
To lend a rose to beautify her spring;
The sea-nymphs fetch their lilies from my cheeks:
Then thou unkind!"—and hereon would I weep.
Alvi. And here would Alvida resign her charge;
For were I but in thought th' Assyrian king,
I needs must 'quite thy tears with kisses sweet,
And crave a pardon with a friendly touch:
You know it, madam, though I teach it not,
The touch I mean, you smile whenas you think it.
Remil. How am I pleas'd to hear thy pretty prate,
According to the humour of my mind!
Ah, nymphs, who fairer than Remilia?
The gentle winds have woo'd me with their sighs,
The frowning air hath clear'd when I did smile;
And when I trac'd upon the tender grass,
Love, that makes warm the centre of the earth,
Lift up his crest to kiss Remilia's foot;
Juno still entertains her amorous Jove
With new delights, for fear he look on me;
The phœnix' feathers are become my fan,
For I am beauty's phœnix in this world.
Shut close these curtains straight, and shadow me,
For fear Apollo spy me in his walks,
And scorn all eyes, to see Remilia's eyes.
Nymphs, eunuchs, sing, for Mavors draweth nigh:
Hide me in closure, let him long to look:
For were a goddess fairer than am I,
I'll scale the heavens to pull her from the place.
[They draw the curtains, and music plays.
Alvi. Believe me, though she say that she is fairest,
I think my penny silver by her leave.

Enter Rasni and Radagon, with Lords in pomp, who make a ward about Rasni; with them the Magi in great pomp.

Rasni. Magi, for love of Rasni, by your art,
By magic frame an arbour out of hand,
For fair Remilia to disport her in.
Meanwhile, I will bethink me on further pomp. [Exit.

[The Magi with their rods beat the ground, and from under the same rises a brave arbour;[75] Rasni returns in another suit, while the trumpets sound.

Rasni. Blest be ye, men of art, that grace me thus,
And blessèd be this day where Hymen hies
To join in union pride of heaven and earth!
[Lightning and thunder, wherewith Remilia is strucken.
What wondrous threatening noise is this I hear?
What flashing lightnings trouble our delights?
When I draw near Remilia's royal tent,
I waking dream of sorrow and mishap.
Radag. Dread not, O king, at ordinary chance;
These are but common exhalations,
Drawn from the earth, in substance hot and dry,
Or moist and thick, or meteors combust,
Matters and causes incident to time,
Enkindled in the fiery region first.
Tut, be not now a Roman augurer:
Approach the tent, look on Remilia.
Rasni. Thou hast confirm'd my doubts, kind Radagon.—
Now ope, ye folds, where queen of favour sits,
Carrying a net within her curlèd locks,
Wherein the Graces are entangled oft;
Ope like th' imperial gates where Phœbus sits,
Whenas he means to woo his Clytia.
Nocturnal cares, ye blemishers of bliss,
Cloud not mine eyes whilst I behold her face.—
Remilia, my delight!—she answereth not.
[He draws the curtains, and finds her strucken black with thunder.
How pale! as if bereav'd in fatal meads,
The balmy breath hath left her bosom quite:
My Hesperus by cloudy death is blent.[76]—
Villains, away, fetch syrups of the Inde,
Fetch balsomo, the kind preserve of life,
Fetch wine of Greece, fetch oils, fetch herbs, fetch all,
To fetch her life, or I will faint and die.
[They bring in all these, and offer; naught prevails.
Herbs, oils of Inde, alas, there naught prevails!
Shut are the day-bright eyes that made me see;
Lock'd are the gems of joy in dens of death.
Yet triumph I on fate, and he on her:
Malicious mistress of inconstancy,
Damn'd be thy name, that hast obscur'd my joy.—
Kings, viceroys, princes, rear a royal tomb
For my Remilia; bear her from my sight,
Whilst I in tears weep for Remilia.
[They bear Remilia's body out.
Radag. What maketh Rasni moody? loss of one?
As if no more were left so fair as she.
Behold a dainty minion for the nonce,—
Fair Alvida, the Paphlagonian queen:
Woo her, and leave this weeping for the dead.
Rasni. What, woo my subject's wife that honoureth me!
Radag. Tut, kings this meum, tuum should not know:
Is she not fair? is not her husband hence?
Hold, take her at the hands of Radagon;
A pretty peat[77] to drive your mourn away.
Rasni. She smiles on me, I see she is mine own.—
Wilt thou be Rasni's royal paramour?
Radag. She blushing yields consent.—Make no dispute:
The king is sad, and must be gladded straight;
Let Paphlagonian king go mourn meanwhile.
[Thrusts Rasni and Alvida out; and so they all exeunt.]
Oseas. Pride hath his judgment: London, look about;
'Tis not enough in show to be devout.
A fury now from heaven to lands unknown
Hath made the prophet speak, not to his own.
Fly, wantons, fly this pride and vain attire,
The seals to set your tender hearts on fire.
Be faithful in the promise you have past,
Else God will plague and punish at the last.
When lust is hid in shroud of wretched life,
When craft doth dwell in bed of married wife,
Mark but the prophet's word that shortly shows.[78]
After death expect for many woes.

SCENE II.—A Court of Justice in Nineveh.

Enter Alcon and Thrasybulus, with their Lawyer.

Thras. I need not, sir, discourse unto you the duty of lawyers in tendering the right cause of their clients, nor the conscience you are tied unto by higher command. Therefore suffice, the Usurer hath done me wrong; you know the case; and, good sir, I have strained myself to give you your fees.

Lawyer. Sir, if I should any way neglect so manifest a truth, I were to be accused of open perjury, for the case is evident.