ACT I, SCENE I.
Enter the new usurping Tyrant; the nobles of his faction, Memphonius, Sophonirus, Helvetius, with others, the right heir Govianus, deposed.
Tyr. Thus high, my lords, your powers and constant loves
Have fix'd our glories like unmoved stars,
That know not what it is to fall or err.
We're now the kingdom's love: and he, that was
Flatter'd awhile so, stands before us now
Readier for doom than dignity.
Gov. So much
Can the adulterate friendship of mankind,
False Fortune's sister, bring to pass in kings,
And lay usurpers sunning in their glories,
Like adders in warm beams.
Tyr. There was but one,
In whom my heart took pleasure amongst women;
One in the whole creation, and in her
You dar'd to be my rival! Was't not bold?
Now we are king, she'll leave the lower path
And find the way to us. Helvetius!
It is thy daughter. Happier than a king—
And far above him, for she kneels to thee
Whom we have kneel'd to—richer in one smile
That came from her, than she in all thy blessings;
If thou be'st proud, thou art to be forgiven.
'Tis no deadly sin in thee; while she lives,
High lust is not more natural to youth
Than that to thee; be not afraid to die in't.
'Tis but the sign of joy; there is no gladness,
But has a pride it lives by; that's the oil
That feeds it into flames. Let her be sent for,
And honourably attended, as beseems
Her that we make our queen. My lords Memphonius
And Sophonirus, take into your care
The royal business of my heart; conduct her
With a respect equal with that to us—
If more, it shall be pardon'd; so still err.
You honour us, but ourself honours her.
Mem. Strange fortune! does he make his queen of her?
[Exit Memph.
Soph. I have a wife; would she were so preferr'd!
I could be but her subject, so I'm now;
I allow her her own friend to stop her mouth,
And keep her quiet, quit him his table free,
And the huge feeding of his great stone horse,
On which he rides in pomp about the city,
Only to speak to gallants in bay-windows;
Marry, his lodging he pays dearly for:
He gets me all my children, there I save by't:
Beside, I draw my life out by the bargain
Some twelve years longer than the times appointed;
When my young prodigal gallant kicks up's heels
At one-and-thirty, and lies dead and rotten
Some five-and-forty years, before I'm coffin'd.
'Tis the right way to keep a woman honest,
One friend is barricado to a hundred,
And keeps 'em out: nay, more—a husband's sure
To have his children all of one man's getting,
And he that performs best, can have no better.
I'm e'en as happy then, that save a labour.
[Exit Sophonirus.