Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 04

by Unknown

FROM 'PHILASTER, OR LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING'
ARETHUSA'S DECLARATION
Lady--Here is my Lord Philaster.
Arethusa--Oh, 'tis well.
Withdraw yourself. Exit Lady.
Philaster--Madam, your messenger
Made me believe you wished to speak with me.
Arethusa--'Tis true, Philaster, but the words are such
I have to say, and do so ill beseem
The mouth of woman, that I wish them said,
And yet am loath to speak them. Have you known
That I have aught detracted from your worth?
Have I in person wronged you? or have set
My baser instruments to throw disgrace
Upon your virtues?
Philaster--Never, madam, you.
Arethusa--Why then should you, in such a public place,
Injure a princess, and a scandal lay
Upon my fortunes, famed to be so great,
Calling a great part of my dowry in question?
Philaster--Madam, this truth which I shall speak will be
Foolish: but, for your fair and virtuous self,
I could afford myself to have no right
To any thing you wished.
Arethusa--Philaster, know,
I must enjoy these kingdoms.
Philaster--Madam, both?
Arethusa--Both, or I die; by fate, I die, Philaster,
If I not calmly may enjoy them both.
Philaster--I would do much to save that noble life,
Yet would be loath to have posterity
Find in our stories, that Philaster gave
His right unto a sceptre and a crown
To save a lady's longing.
Arethusa--Nay, then, hear:
I must and will have them, and more--
Philaster--What more?
Arethusa--Or lose that little life the gods prepared
To trouble this poor piece of earth withal.
Philaster--Madam, what more?
Arethusa--Turn, then, away thy face.
Philaster--No.
Arethusa--Do.
Philaster--I can endure it. Turn away my face!
I never yet saw enemy that looked
So dreadfully, but that I thought myself
As great a basilisk as he; or spake
So horribly, but that I thought my tongue
Bore thunder underneath, as much as his;
Nor beast that I could turn from: shall I then
Begin to fear sweet sounds? a lady's voice,
Whom I do love? Say, you would have my life:
Why, I will give it you; for 'tis to me
A thing so loathed, and unto you that ask
Of so poor use, that I shall make no price:
If you entreat, I will unmovedly hear.
Arethusa--Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy looks.
Philaster--I do.
Arethusa--Then know, I must have them and thee.
Philaster--And me?
Arethusa--Thy love; without which, all the land
Discovered yet will serve me for no use
But to be buried in.
Philaster--Is't possible?
Arethusa--With it, it were too little to bestow
On thee. Now, though thy breath do strike me dead,
(Which, know, it may,) I have unript my breast.
Philaster--Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts
To lay a train for this contemnèd life,
Which you may have for asking: to suspect
Were base, where I deserve no ill. Love you!
By all my hopes I do, above my life!
But how this passion should proceed from you
So violently, would amaze a man
That would be jealous.
Arethusa--Another soul into my body shot
Could not have filled me with more strength and spirit
Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time
In seeking how I came thus: 'tis the gods,
The gods, that make me so; and sure, our love
Will be the nobler and the better blest,
In that the secret justice of the gods
Is mingled with it. Let us leave, and kiss:
Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us,
And we should part without it.
Philaster--'Twill be ill
I should abide here long.
Arethusa--'Tis true: and worse
You should come often. How shall we devise
To hold intelligence, that our true loves,
On any new occasion, may agree
What path is best to tread?
Philaster--I have a boy,
Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent,
Yet not seen in the court. Hunting the buck,
I found him sitting by a fountain's side,
Of which he borrowed some to quench his thirst,
And paid the nymph again as much in tears.
A garland lay him by, made by himself
Of many several flowers bred in the vale,
Stuck in that mystic order that the rareness
Delighted me; but ever when he turned
His tender eyes upon 'em, he would weep,
As if he meant to make 'em grow again.
Seeing such pretty helpless innocence
Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story.
He told me that his parents gentle died,
Leaving him to the mercy of the fields,
Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs,
Which did not stop their courses; and the sun,
Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light.
Then took he up his garland, and did show
What every flower, as country-people hold,
Did signify, and how all, ordered thus,
Expressed his grief; and, to my thoughts, did read
The prettiest lecture of his country-art
That could be wished: so that methought I could
Have studied it. I gladly entertained
Him, who was glad to follow: and have got
The trustiest, loving'st, and the gentlest boy
That ever master kept. Him will I send
To wait on you, and bear our hidden love.

THE STORY OF BELLARIO
PHILASTER--But, Bellario
(For I must call thee still so), tell me why
Thou didst conceal thy sex. It was a fault,
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds
Of truth outweighed it: all these jealousies
Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discovered
What now we know.
Bellario--My father oft would speak
Your worth and virtue; and as I did grow
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst
To see the man so praised. But yet all this
Was but a maiden-longing, to be lost
As soon as found; till, sitting in my window,
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,
I thought (but it was you), enter our gates:
My blood flew out and back again, as fast
As I had puffed it forth and sucked it in
Like breath; then was I called away in haste
To entertain you. Never was a man
Heaved from a sheep-cote to a sceptre, raised
So high in thoughts as I. You left a kiss
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep
From you for ever; I did hear you talk,
Far above singing. After you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched
What stirred it so: alas, I found it love!
Yet far from lust; for, could I but have lived
In presence of you, I had had my end.
For this I did delude my noble father
With a feigned pilgrimage, and dressed myself
In habit of a boy; and, for I knew
My birth no match for you, I was past hope
Of having you; and, understanding well
That when I made discovery of my sex
I could not stay with you, I made a vow,
By all the most religious things a maid
Could call together, never to be known,
Whilst there was hope to hide me from men's eyes.
For other than I seemed, that I might ever
Abide with you. Then sat I by the fount,
Where first you took me up.
King--Search out a match
Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt,
And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself
Wilt well deserve him.
Bellario--Never, sir, will I
Marry; it is a thing within my vow:
But if I may have leave to serve the princess,
To see the virtues of her lord and her,
I shall have hope to live.
Arethusa--I, Philaster,
Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady
Drest like a page to serve you; nor will I
Suspect her living here.--Come, live with me;
Live free as I do. She that loves my lord,
Cursed be the wife that hates her!

FROM 'THE MAID'S TRAGEDY'
CONFESSION OF EVADNE TO AMINTOR
Evadne--Would I could say so [farewell] to my black disgrace!
Oh, where have I been all this time? how friended,
That I should lose myself thus desperately,
And none for pity show me how I wandered?
There is not in the compass of the light
A more unhappy creature: sure, I am monstrous;
For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs,
Would dare a woman. Oh, my loaden soul,
Be not so cruel to me; choke not up
The way to my repentance!
[Enter Amintor.]
O my lord!
Amintor--How now?
Evadne--My much-abused lord! [Kneels.]
Amintor--This cannot be!
Evadne--I do not kneel to live; I dare not hope it;
The wrongs I did are greater. Look upon me,
Though I appear with all my faults.
Amintor--Stand up.
This is a new way to beget more sorrows:
Heaven knows I have too many. Do not mock me:
Though I am tame, and bred up with my wrongs,
Which are my foster-brothers, I may leap,
Like a hand-wolf, into my natural wildness,
And do an outrage: prithee, do not mock me,
Evadne--My whole life is so leprous, it infects
All my repentance. I would buy your pardon,
Though at the highest set, even with my life:
That slight contrition, that's no sacrifice
For what I have committed.
Amintor--Sure, I dazzle:
There cannot be a faith in that foul woman,
That knows no God more mighty than her mischiefs.
Thou dost still worse, still number on thy faults,
To press my poor heart thus. Can I believe
There's any seed of virtue in that woman
Left to shoot up that dares go on in sin
Known, and so known as thine is? O Evadne!
Would there were any safety in thy sex,
That I might put a thousand sorrows off,
And credit thy repentance! but I must not:
Thou hast brought me to that dull calamity,
To that strange misbelief of all the world
And all things that are in it, that I fear
I shall fall like a tree, and find my grave,
Only remembering that I grieve.
Evadne--My lord,
Give me your griefs: you are an innocent,
A soul as white as Heaven; let not my sins
Perish your noble youth. I do not fall here
To shadow by dissembling with my tears,
(As all say women can,) or to make less
What my hot will hath done, which Heaven and you
Know to be tougher than the hand of time
Can cut from man's remembrances; no, I do not;
I do appear the same, the same Evadne,
Drest in the shames I lived in, the same monster.
But these are names of honor to what I am:
I do present myself the foulest creature,
Most poisonous, dangerous, and despised of men,
Lerna e'er bred, or Nilus. I am hell,
Till you, my dear lord, shoot your light into me,
The beams of your forgiveness; I am soul-sick,
And wither with the fear of one condemned,
Till I have got your pardon.
Amintor--Rise, Evadne.
Those heavenly powers that put this good into thee
Grant a continuance of it! I forgive thee:
Make thyself worthy of it; and take heed,
Take heed, Evadne, this be serious.
Mock not the powers above, that can and dare
Give thee a great example of their justice
To all ensuing ages, if thou playest
With thy repentance, the best sacrifice.
Evadne--I have done nothing good to win belief,
My life hath been so faithless. All the creatures
Made for Heaven's honors have their ends, and good ones,
All but the cozening crocodiles, false women:
They reign here like those plagues, those killing sores,
Men pray against; and when they die, like tales
Ill told and unbelieved, they pass away,
And go to dust forgotten. But, my lord,
Those short days I shall number to my rest
(As many must not see me) shall, though too late,
Though in my evening, yet perceive a will,
Since I can do no good, because a woman,
Reach constantly at something that is near it;
I will redeem one minute of my age,
Or, like another Niobe, I'll weep,
Till I am water.
Amintor--I am now dissolved:
My frozen soul melts. May each sin thou hast,
Find a new mercy! Rise; I am at peace.
[Evadne rises.]
Hadst thou been thus, thus excellently good,
Before that devil-king tempted thy frailty,
Sure thou hadst made a star. Give me thy hand:
From this time I will know thee; and as far
As honor gives me leave, be thy Amintor.
When we meet next, I will salute thee fairly,
And pray the gods to give thee happy days:
My charity shall go along with thee,
Though my embraces must be far from thee.
I should have killed thee, but this sweet repentance
Locks up my vengeance: for which thus I kiss thee--
[Kisses her.]
The last kiss we must take; and would to Heaven
The holy priest that gave our hands together
Had given us equal virtues! Go, Evadne;
The gods thus part our bodies. Have a care
My honor falls no farther: I am well, then.
Evadne--All the dear joys here, and above hereafter,
Crown thy fair soul! Thus I take leave, my lord;
And never shall you see the foul Evadne,
Till she have tried all honored means, that may
Set her in rest and wash her stains away.

FROM 'BONDUCA'
THE DEATH OF THE BOY HENGO
[Scene: A field between the British and the Roman camps.]
Caratach--How does my boy?
Hengo--I would do well; my heart's well;
I do not fear.
Caratach--My good boy!
Hengo--I know, uncle,
We must all die: my little brother died;
I saw him die, and he died smiling; sure,
There's no great pain in't, uncle. But pray tell me,
Whither must we go when we are dead?
Caratach [aside]--Strange questions!
Why, the blessed'st place, boy! ever sweetness
And happiness dwell there.
Hengo--Will you come to me?
Caratach--Yes, my sweet boy.
Hengo--Mine aunt too, and my cousins?
Caratach--All, my good child.
Hengo--No Romans, uncle?
Caratach--No, boy.
Hengo--I should be loath to meet them there.
Caratach--No ill men,
That live by violence and strong oppression,
Come thither: 'tis for those the gods love, good men.
Hengo--Why, then, I care not when I go, for surely
I am persuaded they love me: I never
Blasphemed 'em, uncle, nor transgressed my parents;
I always said my prayers.
Caratach--Thou shalt go, then;
Indeed thou shalt.
Hengo--When they please.
Caratach--That's my good boy!
Art thou not weary, Hengo?
Hengo--Weary, uncle!
I have heard you say you have marched all day in armor.
Caratach--I have, boy.
Hengo--Am not I your kinsman?
Caratach--Yes.
Hengo--And am not I as fully allied unto you
In those brave things as blood?
Caratach--Thou art too tender.
Hengo--To go upon my legs? they were made to bear me.
I can play twenty miles a day; I see no reason
But, to preserve my country and myself,
I should march forty.
Caratach--What wouldst thou be, living
To wear a man's strength!
Hengo--Why, a Caratach,
A Roman-hater, a scourge sent from Heaven
To whip these proud thieves from our kingdom. Hark!
[Drum within.]

---

[They are on a rock in the rear of a wood.]
Caratach--Courage, my boy! I have found meat: look, Hengo,
Look where some blessèd Briton, to preserve thee,
Has hung a little food and drink: cheer up, boy;
Do not forsake me now.
Hengo--O uncle, uncle,
I feel I cannot stay long! yet I'll fetch it,
To keep your noble life. Uncle, I am heart-whole,
And would live.
Caratach--Thou shalt, long, I hope.
Hengo--But my head, uncle!
Methinks the rock goes round.
[Enter Macer and Judas, and remain at the side of the stage.]
Macer--Mark 'em well, Judas.
Judas--Peace, as you love your life.
Hengo--Do not you hear
The noise of bells?
Caratach--Of bells, boy! 'tis thy fancy;
Alas, thy body's full of wind!
Hengo--Methinks, sir,
They ring a strange sad knell, a preparation
To some near funeral of state: nay, weep not,
Mine own sweet uncle; you will kill me sooner.
Caratach--O my poor chicken!
Hengo--Fie, faint-hearted uncle!
Come, tie me in your belt and let me down.
Caratach--I'll go myself, boy.
Hengo--No, as you love me, uncle:
I will not eat it, if I do not fetch it;
The danger only I desire: pray, tie me.
Caratach--I will, and all my care hang o'er thee! Come, child,
My valiant child!
Hengo--Let me down apace, uncle,
And you shall see how like a daw I'll whip it
From all their policies; for 'tis most certain
A Roman train: and you must hold me sure, too;
You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it, uncle,
We'll be as merry--
Caratach--Go, i' the name of Heaven, boy!
[Lets Hengo down by his belt.]
Hengo--Quick, quick, uncle! I have it.
[Judas shoots Hengo with an arrow.] Oh!
Caratach--What ail'st thou?
Hengo--Oh, my best uncle, I am slain!
Caratach [to Judas]--I see you,
And Heaven direct my hand! destruction
Go with thy coward soul!
[Kills Judas with a stone, and then draws up Hengo. Exit Macer.]
How dost thou, boy?--
O villain, pocky villain!
Hengo--Oh, uncle, uncle,
Oh, how it pricks me!--am I preserved for this?--
Extremely pricks me!
Caratach--Coward, rascal coward!
Dogs eat thy flesh!
Hengo--Oh, I bleed hard! I faint too; out upon't,
How sick I am!--The lean rogue, uncle!
Caratach--Look, boy;
I have laid him sure enough.
Hengo--Have you knocked his brains out?
Caratach--I warrant thee, for stirring more: cheer up, child.
Hengo--Hold my sides hard; stop, stop; oh, wretched fortune,
Must we part thus? Still I grow sicker, uncle.
Caratach--Heaven look upon this noble child!
Hengo--I once hoped
I should have lived to have met these bloody Romans
At my sword's point, to have revenged my father,
To have beaten 'em,--oh, hold me hard!--but, uncle--
Caratach--Thou shalt live still, I hope, boy. Shall I draw it?
Hengo--You draw away my soul, then. I would live
A little longer--spare me, Heavens!--but only
To thank you for your tender love: good uncle,
Good noble uncle, weep not.
Caratach--O my chicken,
My dear boy, what shall I lose?
Hengo--Why, a child,
That must have died however; had this 'scaped me,
Fever or famine--I was born to die, sir.
Caratach--But thus unblown, my boy?
Hengo--I go the straighter
My journey to the gods. Sure, I shall know you
When you come, uncle.
Caratach--Yes, boy.
Hengo--And I hope
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness
You told me of.
Caratach--Most certain, child.
Hengo--I grow cold;
Mine eyes are going.
Caratach--Lift 'em up.
Hengo--Pray for me;
And, noble uncle, when my bones are ashes,
Think of your little nephew!--Mercy!
Caratach--Mercy!
You blessèd angels, take him!
Hengo--Kiss me: so.
Farewell, farewell! [Dies.]
Caratach--Farewell, the hopes of Britain!
Thou royal graft, farewell for ever!--Time and Death,
Ye have done your worst. Fortune, now see, now proudly
Pluck off thy veil and view thy triumph; look,
Look what thou hast brought this land to!--O fair flower,
How lovely yet thy ruins show, how sweetly
Even death embraces thee! the peace of Heaven,
The fellowship of all great souls, be with thee!

FROM 'THE TWO NOBLE KINSMEN'
BY SHAKESPEARE AND FLETCHER
Roses, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,
But in their hue;
Maiden-pinks, of odor faint,
Daisies smell-less yet most quaint,
And sweet thyme true;
Primrose, first-born child of Ver,
Merry spring-time's harbinger,
With her bells dim;
Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
Larks'-heels trim.
All, dear Nature's children sweet,
Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,
Blessing their sense!
Not an angel of the air,
Bird melodious or bird fair,
Be absent hence!
The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough hoar,
Nor chattering pie,
May on our bride-house perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,
But from it fly!