The Plays of Philip Massinger, Vol. I
SCENE IV.
_Palermo. A Room in_ CAMIOLA'_s House_.
_Enter_ SYLLI, CAMIOLA, _and_ CLARINDA, _at several doors._
_Syl._ Undone! undone!--poor I, that whilome was The top and ridge of my house, am, on the sudden, Turn'd to the pitifullest animal O' the lineage of the Syllis!
_Cam._ What's the matter?
_Syl._ The king--break, girdle, break!
_Cam._ Why, what of him?
_Syl._ Hearing how far you doted on my person, Is come himself a suitor, with the awl Of his authority to bore my nose, And take you from me--Oh, oh, oh!
_Cam._ Do not roar so: The king!
_Syl._ The king. Yet loving Sylli is not So sorry for his own as your misfortune: If the king should carry you, he can but make you A queen, and what a simple thing is that To the being my lawful spouse! the world can never Afford you such a husband.
_Cam._ I believe you. But how are you sure the king is so inclined? Did not you dream this?
_Syl._ With these eyes I saw him Dismiss his train, and lighting from his coach, Whispering Fulgentio in the ear.
_Cam._ If so, I guess the business.
_Syl._ Yonder they are; I dare not
_Enter_ ROBERTO _and_ FULGENTIO.
Be seen, I am so desperate: if you forsake me, Send me word, that I may provide a willow garland, To wear when I drown myself. O Sylli, Sylli! [_Exit crying._
_Ful._ It will be worth your pains, sir, to observe The constancy and bravery of her spirit. Though great men tremble at your frowns, I dare Hazard my head your majesty, set off With terror, cannot fright her.
_Rob._ May she answer My expectation! [_Aside._
_Ful._ There she is.
_Cam._ My knees thus Bent to the earth, while my vows are sent upward For the safety of my sovereign, pay the duty Due for so great an honour, in this favour Done to your humblest handmaid.
_Rob._ You mistake me; I come not, lady, that you may report The king, to do you honour, made your house (He being there) his court; but to correct Your stubborn disobedience. A pardon For that, could you obtain it, were well purchased With this humility.
_Cam._ A pardon, sir! Till I am conscious of an offence, I will not wrong my innocence to beg one. What is my crime, sir?
_Rob._ Look on him I favour, By you scorn'd and neglected.
_Cam._ Is that all, sir?
_Rob._ No, minion; though that were too much. How can you Answer the setting on your desperate bravo To murder him?
_Cam._ With your leave, I must not kneel, sir, While I reply to this: but thus rise up In my defence, and tell you, as a man, (Since, when you are unjust, the deity, Which you may challenge as a king, parts from you,) 'Twas never read in holy writ, or moral, That subjects on their loyalty were obliged To love their sovereign's vices: your grace, sir, To such an undeserver is no virtue.
_Ful._ What think you now, sir?
_Cam._ Say you should love wine, You being the king, and, 'cause I am your subject, Must I be ever drunk? Tyrants, not kings, By violence, from humble vassals force The liberty of their souls. I could not love him; And to compel affection, as I take it, Is not found in your prerogative.
_Rob._ Excellent virgin! How I admire her confidence! [_Aside._
_Cam._ He complains Of wrong done him: but be no more a king, Unless you do me right. Burn your decrees, And of your laws and statutes make a fire To thaw the frozen numbness of delinquents, If he escape unpunish'd. Do your edicts Call it death in any man that breaks into Another's house to rob him, though of trifles; And shall Fulgentio, your Fulgentio, live, Who hath committed more than sacrilege, In the pollution of my clear fame By his malicious slanders?
_Rob._ Have you done this? Answer truly, on your life.
_Ful._ In the heat of blood, Some such thing I reported.
_Rob._ Out of my sight! For I vow, if by true penitence thou win not This injured lady to sue out thy pardon, Thy grave is digg'd already.
_Ful._ By my own folly I have made a fair hand of 't. [_Aside, and Exit._
_Rob._ You shall know, lady, While I wear a crown, Justice shall use her sword To cut offenders off, though nearest to us.
_Cam._ Ay, now you show whose deputy you are: If now I bathe your feet with tears, it cannot Be censured superstition.
_Rob._ You must rise; Rise in our favour and protection ever. [_Kisses her._
_Cam._ Happy are subjects, when the prince is still Guided by justice, not his passionate will. [_Exeunt._