CARATACH, PRINCE OF THE BRITONS, WITH HIS NEPHEW HENGO ASLEEP. FROM SCENE III. ACT V. OF THE SAME. Car. SLEEP still, sleep sweetly, child; 'tis all thou feed'st on: No gentle Briton near, no valiant charity To bring thee food. Poor knave, thou'rt sick, ex treme sick, Almost grown wild for meat, and yet thy goodness Enter CARATACH and HENGO on the rock. Car. Courage, my boy, I've found meat: look, Look, where some blessed Briton, to preserve thee, Hengo. Oh! uncle, uncle, I feel I cannot stay long; yet I'll fetch it To keep your noble life. Uncle, I'm heart whole, And would live. Car. Thou shalt, long, I hope. Enter MACER and JUDAS, Romans. The noise of bells? Car. 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. Car. I'll go myself, boy. Hengo. No; as you love me, uncle, The danger only I desire; pray tie me. [Come, child, Hengo. Let me down apace, uncle, A Roman train. And you must hold me sure too, [uncle, Car. Go i'the name of heav'n, boy. Hengo. Quick, quick, uncle, I have it. Oh! [JUDAS shoots HENGO. Car. What ail'st thou ? Hengo. Oh! my best uncle, I am slain. Car. I see you— [Kills JUDAS with a stone. NO RIVALSHIP OR TAINT OF FAITH ADMIS. SIBLE IN LOVE. FROM THE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY. ZENOCIA to ARNOLDO. SHOULD you lay by the least part of that love You've sworn is mine, your youth and faith have To entertain another, nay, a fairer, [given me, And make the case thus desperate, she must die also; D'ye think I would give way, or count this honest? Be not deceived; these eyes should never see you more, This tongue forget to name you, and this heart Arn. Not for your beauty; Though I confess it blows the first fire in us; Time as he passes by puts out that sparkle. Nor for your wealth, although the world kneel to it, And make it all addition to a woman; Fortune, that ruins all, make that his conquest. Be honest and be virtuous, I'll admire you; At least be wise and, where you lay these nets, Strew over them a little modesty, 'Twill well become your cause, and catch more fools. Hyp. Could any one, that loved this wholesome counsel, But love the giver more ?—You make me fonder. You have a virtuous mind-I want that ornament. Is it a sin, I covet to enjoy you ?— If you imagine I'm too free a lover, And act that part belongs to you, I'm silent. Mine eyes shall speak, my blushes parley with you; I will not touch your hand but with a tremble Fitting a vestal nun; not long to kiss you, SCENE IN THE COMEDY OF MONSIEUR Valentine having formed the noble resolution of giving up his mistress Cellide to preserve the life of his friend Francis, who is in love with her, is supposed to hear the following dialogue, unknown to Francis. Francis. BLESS me, what beams Flew from those angel eyes! Oh, what a misery, I see you've need. Fran. You are a fair physician; You bring no bitterness, gilt o'er, to gull us, [Enter VALENTINE privately. For this I think must cure you. Fran. Of which, lady?— Sure she has found my grief.-Why do you blush so? Cel. Do you not understand? of this this cordial. Valentine. Oh, my afflicted heart! she's gone for everd Fran. What heaven you have brought me, lady! For 'tis not impudence, nor want of honour, Fran. A virtuous blessing crown you! Cel. Do not despair; nor do not think too boldly That here I am, by his command, to cure ye; Fran. Hold, for heaven's sake! d Valentine is supposed to remain undiscovered, and his speeches not to be heard by Francis and Cellide. Oh, virtuous goodness! keep thyself untainted: You have no power to yield, nor he to render, Nor I to take-I am resolved to die first! Val. Ha! say'st thou so?-Nay, then thou shalt not perish! Fran. And though I love ye above the light shines on me ; Beyond the wealth of kingdoms; free content Cel. Pray tell me, If I had never known that gentleman, Cel. And can you be unwilling, He being old and impotent?—his aim, too, Fran. For virtue's sake, take heed! What everlasting banishment from that Equal affections, born and shot together! Cel. To you, unless you apply it With more and firmer faith, and so digest it: Val. Oh! cruel woman! Cel. Yet, sure your sickness is not so forgetful, Nor you so willing to be lost! Fran. Pray stay there; Methinks you are not fair now; methinks more, Fran. You have no share in goodness; The modest, the immaculate !-Who are you? For I will know--What devil, to do mischief Unto my virtuous friend, hath shifted shapes With that unblemish'd beauty? Cel. Do not rave, sir, Nor let the violence of thoughts distract you; Fran. Oh, double hearted! Oh, woman! perfect woman! what distraction Whose every day endeavours and desires Val. Oh! miracle! Fran. Whose all and every part of man, (pray mark me!) Like ready pages, wait upon your pleasures, That 'tis most necessary I be undone. Cel. Till this minute I scorn'd and hated you, and came to cozen you ; Utter'd those things might draw a wonder on me, To make you mad. Fran. Good heaven! what is this woman? Cel. Nor did your danger, but in charity, Move me a whit; nor you appear unto me More than a common object; yet now, truly, Truly, and nobly, I do love you dearly, And from this hour you are the man I honour; You are the man, the excellence, the honesty, The only friend :—and I am glad your sickness Fell so most happily at this time on you, To make this truth the world's. Fran. Whither d'you drive me? Cel. Back to your honesty; make that good ever; "Tis like a strong-built castle, seated high, That draws on all ambitions; still repair it, Still fortify it; there are thousand foes, Besides the tyrant Beauty, will assail it : Look to your centinels, that watch it hourly; Your eyes-let them not wander! Fran. Is this serious, Or does she play still with me? Cel. Keep your ears, The two main ports that may betray you, strongly Ridged round about with virtue, that no breaches, H Fran. How like the sun Labouring in his eclipse, dark and prodigious, She show'd till now! When, having won his way, How full of wonder he breaks out again, And sheds his virtuons beams! Excellent angel! (Forno less can that heavenly mind proclaim thee.) Honour of all thy sex! let it be lawful (And like a pilgrim thus I kneel to beg it, Not with profane lips now, nor burnt affections, But, reconciled to faith, with holy wishes,) To kiss that virgin hand! Cel. Take your desire, sir, And in a nobler way, for I dare trust you; [FROM "A KING AND NO KING." ACT IV. SCENE IV. ARBACES, King of Iberia, reveals to PANTHEA, his sister, the criminality of his love for her. An Apartment in the Palace. Enter ARBACES at one door, and GOBRIAS with PANTHEA at another. Gob. Sir, here's the princess. For the main cause of her imprisonment [Exit GOBRIAS. You're welcome, sister; and I would to Heaven Ay, more than all the art of music can, Pan. Be it so I will. Am I the first that ever had a wrong So far from being fit to have redress, That 'twas unfit to hear it? I will back To prison, rather than disquiet you, And wait till it be fit. Arb. No, do not go ; For I will hear thee with a serious thought: Together strongly, and I am resolved Pan. Alas, sir, am I venom ? Though, of thyself, I think thee to be in Do thee: I pray thee, draw no nearer to me. Arb. Why, credit me, Panthea, credit me, that am thy brother, If you dissemble, be it on your head! I might be kept in some place where you are; Arb. Fy, you come in a step; what do you mean? Dear sister, do not so! Alas, Panthea, Where I am would you be? why, that's the Pan. Heaven forbid ! Arb. Nay, it is gone; And I am left as far without a bound That laid this punishment upon my pride, And in a grave sleep with my innocence, Arb. Farewell; and, good Panthea, pray for me, For thither they are tending: if that happen, Then I shall force thee, though thou wert a virgin By vow to Heaven, and shall pull a heap Pan. Sir, I will pray for you! yet you shall It is a sullen fate that governs us: That, as it is, I ne'er shall sway my heart Arb. Then I curse my birth! That thou art willing too? Is there no stop To our full happiness, but these mere sounds, i Brother and sister? Pan. There is nothing else: But these, alas! will separate us more Arb. I have lived To conquer men, and now am overthrown Thou bought'st thy reason at too dear a rate; For thou hast all thy actions bounded in With curious rules, when every beast is free : What is there that acknowledges a kindred, But wretched man? Who ever saw the bull Fearfully leave the heifer that he liked, Because they had one dam ? Pan. Sir, I disturb you And myself too; 'twere better I were gone. Arb. I will not be so foolish as I was; Stay, we will love just as becomes our births, No otherwise brothers and sisters may Walk hand in hand together; so shall we. Come nearer Is there any hurt in this? Pan. I hope not. Arb. 'Faith, there is none at all: Pan. No, by Heaven. You sent unto Tigranes, sister. Pan. True, But for another: for the truth- Arb. No more, I'll credit thee; I know thou canst not lie. Thou art all truth. Pan. But is there nothing else, That we may do, but only walk? Methinks, Brothers and sisters lawfully may kiss. Arb. And so they may, Panthea; so will we; And kiss again too; we were too scrupulous And foolish, but we will be so no more. Pan. If you have any mercy, let me go To prison, to my death, to anything: I feel a sin growing upon my blood, Worse than all these, hotter, I fear, than yours. Arb. That is impossible: what should we do? Pan. Fly, sir, for Heaven's sake. Arb. So we must; away! Sin grows upon us more by this delay. Exeunt several ways.] |