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.

+Flo.+ My soul foresaw this.

+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._

FOOTNOTES:

[285] [Old copy, _in_.]