Chapter 66

Enter _Silvio_, melancholy.

Silv. I must remove _Marcel_, for his nice Honour Will ne’er permit that I should court my Sister; My Passion will admit of no Restraint, ’Tis grown so violent; and fair _Cleonte’s_ Charms Each Day increase to such a killing Number, That I must speak or die.

Enter _Francisca_.

Franc. What, still with folded Arms and down-cast looks?

Silv. Oh _Francisca!_ My Brother’s Presence now afflicts me more Than all my Fears of Cruelty from _Cleonte_; She is the best, the sweetest, kindest Sister—

Franc. Ay, Sir, but she will never make the kindest Mistress.

Silv. At least she should permit me to adore her, Were but _Marcel_ away. Hast thou no Stratagem to get him absent? For I can think of nothing but my Sister. [Sighs.

Franc. I know of one, nor other Remedy for you than loving less.

Silv. Oh, ’tis impossible: Thou know’st I’ve tried all ways, made my Addresses To all the fairest Virgins in _Madrid_; Nay, and at last fell to the worst Debauchery, That of frequenting every common House: 232 But Souls that feed so high on Love as mine, Must nauseate coarser Diet. No, I must still love on, and tell her so, Or I must live no longer.

Franc. That methinks you might do even in the Presence of _Marcel_. A Brother is allow’d to love a Sister.

Silv. But I shall do’t in such a way, _Francisca_, Be so transported, and so passionate, I shall betray what he will ne’er indure. And since our other Sister, loose _Hippolyta_, was lost, He does so guard and watch the fair _Cleonte_—

Franc. Why, quarrel with him, Sir: you know you are so much dearer to my Lord your Father than he is, that should he perceive a Difference between ye, he would soon dismiss him the House; and ’twere but Reason, Sir, for I am sure Don _Marcel_ loves you not.

Silv. That I excuse, since he the lawful Heir to all my Father’s Fortunes, sees it every Day ready to be sacrific’d to me, who can pretend no Title to’t, but the unaccountable Love my Father bears me.

Franc. Can you dissemble, Sir?

Silv. The worst of any Man, but would endeavour it, If it could any ways advance my Love.

Franc. Which I must find some way to ruin. [Aside. Then court his Mistress.

Silv. The rich _Flavia?_

Franc. That would not incense him, for her he is to marry; But ’tis the fair _Clarinda_ has his Heart.

Silv. To act a feigned Love, and hide a real one, Is what I have already try’d in vain. Even fair _Clarinda_ I have courted too, In hope that way to banish from my Soul The hopeless Flame _Cleonte_ kindled there; But ’twas a Shame to see how ill I did dissemble.

Franc. Stay, Sir, here comes _Marcel_. I’ll leave you.

[Exit _Francisca_.

233 Enter _Marcel_, with a Letter open in his Hand, which he kisses.

Mar. Kind Messenger of Love! Thus, thus a thousand times I bid thee welcome from my fair _Clarinda_. Thus joyful Bridegrooms, after long Despairs, Possess the yielding Treasure in their Arms: Only thus much the happier Lover I, Who gather all the Sweets of this fair Maid Without the ceremonious Tie of Marriage; That tie that does but nauseate the Delight, Be far from happy Lovers; we’ll embrace And unconfin’d and free as whispering Air, That mingles wantonly with spreading Flowers.

Silv. What’s all this?

Mar. _Silvio,_ the Victory’s won. The Heart that nicely stood it out so long, Now yields upon Conditions.

Silv. What Victory? or what Heart?

Mar. I am all Rapture, cannot speak it out; My Senses have carous’d too much of Joy; And like young Drunkards, proud of their new try’d Strength, Have made my Pleasure less by the excess.

Silv. This is wondrous. Impart some of your over-charge to me, The Burden lightned will be more supportable.

Mar. Read here, and change thy Wonder, when thou knowst How happy Man can be. [Gives him a Letter. [_Silvio_ reads.

_Marcel_,

_Dormida_ will have me tell you what Effects your Vows have made, and how easily they have drawn from me a Consent to see you, as you desir’d, this Night in my Chamber: you have 234 sworn to marry me, and Love will have me credit you, and then methinks I ought not to deny you any thing, nor question your Virtue. _Dormida_ will wait to throw you down the Key, when all are in Bed, that will conduct you to Your _Clarinda_.

Silv. Damn her for a Dissembler! Is this the chaste, the excellent _Clarinda_, Who whilst I courted, was as cold and nice, As a young Nun the day she is invested?

Mar. How now, Brother! what, displeased with it? [Takes the Letter.

Silv. A little, Sir, to see another’s Happiness, Whilst I, where e’er I pay my Vows and Sighs, Get nothing but Disdain; and yet this Shape And Face I never thought unhandsom.

Mar. These be the least approaches to a Heart; ’Tis not dull looking well will do the feat, There is a Knack in Love, a critical Minute: And Women must be watcht as Witches are, E’er they confess, and then they yield apace.

Enter a _Boy_.

Boy. Sir, there’s without a Servant of Don _Alonzo’s_, who says his Master will be here to Night. [_Marcel_ is surprized.

Mar. _Alonzo!_ now I begin to wake From Love, like one from some delightful Dream, To reassume my wonted Cares and Shame. —I will not speak with him. [Exit _Boy_. Oh _Hippolyta!_ thou poor lost thing, _Hippolyta!_ How art thou fallen from Honour, and from Virtue, And liv’st in Whoredom with an impious Villain, Who in revenge to me has thus betray’d thee. Keep thy self closer than thou’st done thy Sin; For if I find thee out, by all that’s good, Thou hadst more Mercy on thy slaughter’d Honour, Than I will have for thee. And thou, _Antonio_, that hast betray’d her, 235 Who till profan’d by thee, was chaste as Shrines, And pure as are the Vows are offer’d there, That Rape which thou’st committed on her Innocence, I will revenge as shall become her Brother. [Offers to go out in rage.

Silv. Stay, _Marcel_, I can inform you where these Lovers are.

Mar. Oh tell me quickly then, That I may take them in their foul Embraces, And send their Souls to Hell.

Silv. Last Night I made a youthful Sally to One of those Houses where Love and Pleasure Are sold at dearest Rates.

Mar. A Bordello; forwards pray.

Silv. Yes, at the Corner of St. _Jerom’s_; where after seeing many Faces which pleas’d me not, I would have took my leave; but the Matron of the House, a kind obliging Lady, seeing me so nice, and of Quality, (tho disguis’d) told me she had a Beauty, such an one as had Count _d’ Olivarez_ in his height of Power seen, he would have purchas’d at any rate. I grew impatient to see this fine thing, and promis’d largely: then leading me into a Room as gay, and as perfum’d as an Altar upon a Holy-day, I saw seated upon a Couch of State—

Mar. _Hippolyta!_

Silv. _Hippolyta_ our Sister, drest like a _Venice_ Curtezan, With all the Charms of a loose Wanton, Singing and playing to her ravisht Lover, Who I perceiv’d assisted to expose her.

Mar. Well, Sir, what follow’d?

Silv. Surpriz’d at sight of this, I did withdraw, And left them laughing at my little Confidence.

Mar. How! left them? and left them living too?

Silv. If a young Wench will be gadding, Who can help it?

Mar. ’Sdeath you should, were you that half her Brother, 236 Which my Father too doatingly believes you. [Inrag’d.

Silv. How! do you question his Belief, _Marcel?_

Mar. I ne’er consider’d it; be gone and leave me.

Silv. Am I a Dog that thus you bid me vanish? What mean you by this Language? [Comes up to him. And how dare you upbraid me with my Birth, Which know, _Marcel_, is more illustrious far Than thine, being got when Love was in his reign, With all his Youth and Heat about him? I, like the Birds of bravest kind, was hatcht In the hot Sun-shine of Delight; whilst Thou, _Marcel_, wer’t poorly brooded In the cold Nest of Wedlock.

Mar. Thy Mother was some base notorious Strumpet, And by her Witchcraft reduc’d my Father’s Soul, And in return she paid him with a Bastard, Which was thou.

Silv. _Marcel_, thou ly’st. [Strikes him.

Mar. Tho ’twere no point of Valour, but of Rashness To fight thee, yet I’ll do’t.

Silv. By Heaven, I will not put this Injury up.

[They fight, _Silvio_ is wounded.

[Fight again. Enter _Ambrosio_, and _Cleonte_ between; _Silvio_ falls into the Arms of _Cleonte_.

Amb. Hold! I command you hold; Ah, Traitor to my Blood, what hast thou done?

[To _Marcel_, who kneels and lays his Sword at his Feet.

Silv. In fair _Cleonte’s_ Arms! O I could kiss the Hand that gives me Death, So I might thus expire.

Mar. Pray hear me, Sir, before you do condemn me.

Amb. I will hear nothing but thy Death pronounc’d, Since thou hast wounded him, if it be mortal. Have I not charg’d thee on thy Life, _Marcel_, Thou shouldst not hold Discourse with him of any kind?

Mar. I did foresee my Fate, but could not shun it.

[Takes his Sword and goes out.

237 Amb. What ho! _Biscay_, a Surgeon; on your Lives a Surgeon; where be the Rascals? [Goes out.

Silv. I would not have a Surgeon search my Wound With rude and heavy Hands: Yours, fair _Cleonte_, can apply the Balsam Far more successfully, For they are soft and white as Down of Swans, And every Touch is sovereign.

Cleo. But I shall die with looking on your Wounds.

Silv. And I shall die unless you cure them, Sister.

Cleo. With the expence of mine to save your Life, Is both my Wish and Duty.

Silv. I thank you, pretty Innocence. [Leads him in.