ACT V. SCENE I.

_The same. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS _and_ CLEORA.

_Archid._ Thou art thine own disposer. Were his honours And glories centupled, as I must confess, Leosthenes is most worthy, yet I will not, However I may counsel, force affection.

_Cleo._ It needs not, sir; I prize him to his worth, Nay, love him truly; yet would not live slaved To his jealous humours: since, by the hopes of heaven, As I am free from violence, in a thought I am not guilty.

_Archid._ 'Tis believed, Cleora; And much the rather, our great gods be praised for 't! In that I find, beyond my hopes, no sign Of riot in my house, but all things order'd, As if I had been present.

_Cleo._ May that move you To pity poor Marullo!

_Archid._ 'Tis my purpose To do him all the good I can, Cleora; But this offence, being against the state, Must have a public trial. In the mean time, Be careful of yourself, and stand engaged No further to Leosthenes, than you may Come off with honour; for, being once his wife, You are no more your own, nor mine, but must Resolve to serve, and suffer his commands, And not dispute them:--ere it be too late, Consider it duly. I must to the senate. [_Exit._

_Cleo._ I am much distracted: in Leosthenes I can find nothing justly to accuse, But his excess of love, which I have studied To cure with more than common means; yet still It grows upon him. And, if I may call My sufferings merit, I stand bound to think on Marullo's dangers--though I save his life, His love is unrewarded:--I confess, Both have deserved me; yet, of force, must be Unjust to one; such is my destiny.--

_Enter_ TIMANDRA.

How now! whence flow these tears?

_Timand._ I have met, madam, An object of such cruelty, as would force A savage to compassion.

_Cleo._ Speak, what is it?

_Timand._ Men pity beasts of rapine, if o'ermatch'd, Though baited for their pleasure: but these monsters Upon a man that can make no resistance, Are senseless in their tyranny. Let it be granted Marullo is a slave, he's still a man; A capital offender, yet in justice Not to be tortured, till the judge pronounce His punishment.

_Cleo._ Where is he?

_Timand._ Dragg'd to prison With more than barbarous violence; spurn'd and spit on By the insulting officers, his hands Pinion'd behind his back; loaden with fetters: Yet, with a saint-like patience, he still offers His face to their rude buffets.

_Cleo._ O my grieved soul!-- By whose command?

_Timand._ It seems, my lord your brother's, For he's a looker-on: and it takes from Honour'd Leosthenes to suffer it, For his respect to you, whose name in vain The grieved wretch loudly calls on.

_Cleo._ By Diana, 'Tis base in both; and to their teeth I'll tell them That I am wrong'd in 't. [_Going forth._

_Timand._ What will you do?

_Cleo._ In person Visit and comfort him.

_Timand._ That will bring fuel To the jealous fires which burn too hot already In lord Leosthenes.

_Cleo._ Let them consume him! I am mistress of myself. Where cruelty reigns, There dwells nor love nor honour. [_Exit._

_Timand._ So! it works. Though hitherto I have run a desperate course To serve my brother's purposes, now 'tis fit

_Enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.

I study mine own ends. They come:--assist me In these my undertakings, Love's great patron, As my intents are honest!

_Leost._ 'Tis my fault[127]: Distrust of other springs, Timagoras, From diffidence in ourselves: but I will strive, With the assurance of my worth and merits, To kill this monster, jealousy.

_Timag._ 'Tis a guest, In wisdom, never to be entertain'd On trivial probabilities; but, when He does appear in pregnant proofs, not fashion'd By idle doubts and fears to be received: They make their own wrongs that are too secure, As well as such as give them growth and being From mere imagination. Though I prize Cleora's honour equal with mine own, And know what large additions of power This match brings to our family, I prefer Our friendship, and your peace of mind, so far Above my own respects, or hers, that if She hold not her true value in the test, 'Tis far from my ambition, for her cure, That you should wound yourself.

_Timand._ This argues for me. [_Aside._

_Timag._ Why she should be so passionate for a bondman, Falls not in compass of my understanding, But for some nearer interest; or he raise This mutiny, if he loved her, as, you say, She does confess he did, but to possess The prize he ventured for, to me's a riddle.

_Leost._ I have answer'd that objection, in my strong Assurance of her virtue.

_Timag._ 'Tis unfit, then, That I should press it further.

_Timand._ Now I must Make in, or all is lost. [_Rushes forward distractedly._

_Timag._ What would Timandra?

_Leost._ How wild she looks! How is it with thy lady?

_Timag._ Collect thyself, and speak.

_Timand._ As you are noble, Have pity, or love piety.--Oh!

_Leost._ Take breath.

_Timag._ Out with it boldly.

_Timand._ O, the best of ladies, I fear, is gone for ever.

_Leost._ Who, Cleora?

_Timag._ Deliver, how? 'Sdeath, be a man, sir!--Speak.

_Timand._ Take it then in as many sighs as words, My lady----

_Timag._ What of her?

_Timand._ No sooner heard Marullo was imprison'd, but she fell Into a deadly swoon.

_Timag._ But she recover'd: Say so, or he will sink too. Hold, sir; fie! This is unmanly.

_Timand._ Brought again to life, But with much labour, she awhile stood silent, Yet in that interim vented sighs, as if They labour'd, from the prison of her flesh, To give her grieved soul freedom. On the sudden, Transported on the wings of rage and sorrow, She flew out of the house, and, unattended, Enter'd the common prison.

_Leost._ This confirms What but before I fear'd.

_Timand._ There you may find her; And, if you love her as a sister----

_Timag._ Damn her!

_Timand._ Or you respect her safety as a lover, Procure Marullo's liberty.

_Timag._ Impudence Beyond expression!

_Timand._ She'll run mad, else, Or do some violent act upon herself: My lord, her father, sensible of her sufferings, Labours to gain his freedom.

_Leost._ O, the devil! Has she bewitch'd him too?

_Timag._ I'll hear no more. Come, sir, we'll follow her; and if no persuasion Can make her take again her natural form, Which by some powerful spell she has cast off, This sword shall disenchant her.

_Leost._ O my heart-strings! [_Exeunt_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.

_Timand._ I knew 't would take. Pardon me, fair Cleora, Though I appear a traitress; which thou wilt do, In pity of my woes, when I make known My lawful claim, and only seek mine own. [_Exit._

FOOTNOTE:

[127] _My fault_:] i. e. _my misfortune_. That the word anciently had this meaning could be proved by many examples; _e. g._

_Marina._ The more my _fault_, To scape his hands, where I was like to die." _Pericles_, Act IV. sc. iii.