The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume I
Chapter 81
Enter _Marcel_ alone.
Mar. The hour is almost come which I appointed, And yet no _Silvio_ appears, the time seems long to me; But he that’s circled in his Mistress’ Arms, Forgets the hasty hours, And passes them as unregarded by, As Men do Beggars who demand a Charity.
Enter _Hippolyta_.
Young Man, hast thou encounter’d none within this Grove?
Hip. Not any, Sir,—_Marcel!_ my injur’d Brother!
Mar. Why dost thou turn away, and hide thy Face?
Hip. ’Tis not my Face I hide, but Sorrow there. [Weeps.
Mar. Trust me, thou weepest; would I could do so too, That I might be less angry; And Silence best expresses Grief: But thine’s a saucy Sorrow dares approach A Face so fair and young.
Hip. If the Ingrate for whom I grieve had thought so, I might have spar’d my Tears. Farewel, Sir.
Mar. Stay, hast thou been a Lover?
Hip. A very, very passionate one.
Mar. And wert thou not belov’d?
300 Hip. At first, to draw me in, the cunning Artist Made me believe I was.
Mar. Oh! I could kiss thee now, for the alliance Between thy Grief and mine. Hadst thou a loose and wanton Sister too, Then thou wert perfect wretched, as I am. [Weeps. But prithee leave me, now I think of it: For shouldst thou stay, thou’dst rob me of my Anger; For since a Youth like thee can be unhappy, With such a Shape, and so divine a Face, Methinks I should not quarrel with my Star, But bow to all my faithless Mistress’ Scorns.
[Hollowing within.] So ho, ho, so ho, ho—
Mar. So ho, so ho, ho, ho—’Tis my false Rival. Now leave me, Sir, to reassume my Anger.
Hip. I will obey—farewel— My own Despair makes me neglect his Life. [Goes out.
Enter _Silvio_.
Mar. ’Tis _Silvio_.
Silv. You see I have obey’d you, Sir.
Mar. Come, Sir, your Sword.
Silv. You are my Brother, and ’twere an impious Action, To fight you unprovok’d: give me a cause, Nay, and a just one too, or I shall find it hard —To wound _Cleonte’s_ Brother. [Aside sighing.
Mar. Thou cam’st prepar’d to talk, and not to fight. I cannot blame thee for’t, for were I _Silvio_, Thus I would do to save a Life belov’d: [Offers to fight, _Silvio_ steps back. But ’twill not serve you now.
Silv. Your Reason, Sir, and I’m ready, if it be just.
Mar. Oh do not urge me to repeat my Wrongs, For if thou dost, I hardly shall have Man enough remain To fight thee fairly. [Offers still.
Silv. Surely he knows my Passion for _Cleonte_— [Aside. I urge the Reason still.
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Mar. Hast thou forgot thy last Night’s Treachery? How like a Thief thou stol’st into her Lodgings?
Silv. ’Tis so—’tis true, _Marcel_, I rudely did intrude—
Mar. Oh, quickly haste—this looks like Women’s jangling. [Offers to fight again.
Silv. Oh, is it bravely done, _Marcel_, to punish A Passion which you ought to pity rather? ’Tis what I cannot reconcile nor justify: And so distracted it has made me too— I will not fight in so unjust a Cause. Kill me, and I’ll embrace you whilst I die; A thousand Wounds imprinted on this Body, Will bring less Pain than that her Eyes have caus’d. Here strike—Pity my Pain and ease me. [Opens his Arms, and throws away his Sword.
Mar. I find thou hast a Charm about thy Tongue, And thou implor’st thy Death in such a way, I cannot hurt thee; and it gives me hopes Thou art not yet so bless’d to be belov’d, For then thou wouldst not be thus desperate.
Silv. Oh yes, I am belov’d.
Mar. Oh do not say thou art, Nor take me from a Calmness, that may spare thee.
Silv. Not say I am belov’d! thou canst not hire me With Life or fuller Joy, to say I am not. If there be Truth and Love in Innocence, she loves me.
Mar. Yet, yet, ye Gods, I can endure—say, but thou art not, For I would yet preserve thee.
Silv. Oh, canst thou wish that I should fall so low, To save my Life with Lyes; the poorest Sin of all the number?
Mar. Then once again thou hast debauch’d my Pity. [Takes to his Sword.
Silv. Her Passion I will justify, but not my own; Her’s is as pure as Prayers of Penitence; 302 But mine—I cannot give a Name to.
[They fight: Enter _Alonzo_, and parts them.
Alon. How now, what’s here to do! _Marcel?_
Mar. _Alonzo!_ the only Man I wish to shun.
Silv. I’m glad, who e’er thou be’st thou hast prevented us.
Alon. Thou hast more Wit than he, then I find: Your Quarrel, Sir, may a Man have leave to enquire into’t?
Mar. This is that _Silvio_, that noble Youth my Brother, whom thou hast often heard me name.
Alon. An excellent Character for an Enemy, Noble, and Brother: For shame put up your Swords, and I’ll be Judge between ye.
Mar. The Case is soon decided; I will not tell you with how tedious a Courtship I won the Heart, as I thought, of a young Beauty of this Town—and yesterday receiv’d a Billet from her, to wait on her at night, to receive the recompence of all my Pains and Sufferings—In this extasy of Joy I show’d him the Paper; and he getting thither before me, rob’d me of my Prize.
Silv. I am so pleas’d at this mistake of thine, I can forgive it freely.
Mar. Not content with this, most treacherously, hid in the shades of Night, he met me in the Hall of this false Woman, and stab’d me, which did secure his flight with her; and wouldst thou have me put this Injury up?
Alon. Faith, you must, and your Sword too, Unless you mean to keep it drawn on me. ’Twas I that wounded you i’ th’ dark; and it was I That rob’d you of _Clarinda_.
Mar. Thou?
Alon. I, am I so unlikely a Man to do such a feat?
Mar. How dare you, Sir, do this?
Alon. I dare do any thing, but break my Word, as thou hast basely done with me—But I am now in haste, and should be glad to know where to meet you anon.
Mar. I’ll wait on you at the farther side of this Grove by the River.
303 Alon. I will not fail you— [Ex. _Alonzo_.
Mar. Come, Sir, till I can better prove you are my Rival, I will believe you are my Friend and Brother.
Silv. When thou shalt know my miserable Story, Thou wilt believe and pity me. [Go out.
Enter again _Hippolyta_ from out of the Wood.
Hip. I wonder this Cavalier stays so long, Pray Heaven he meet _Antonio_.
Enter _Alonzo_.
Your Servant, Sir.
Alon. The Cavalier to whom you sent me, Sir, Will wait upon you here.
Hip. I humbly thank you, Sir, and should be glad to know how I might pay my Gratitude.
Alon. My Duty ends not here; I have a Sword to serve you.
Hip. You shame me with this Generosity; but, Sir, I hope my own will be sufficient in so good a Cause.
Alon. Tho you are young, I question not your Bravery; But I must beg to stay and see fair play, And offer you my Service when you’ve done.
Hip. The Enemy appears, Sir,—and since you are so good, I beg you would retire behind those Trees; for if he see us both, since he is single, he will suspect some treachery.
Alon. You’ve reason, Sir, and I’ll obey you. [Goes aside.
Enter _Antonio_ reading a Paper.
SIR,
I do desire you to meet me in _St. Peter’s_ Grove, with your Sword in your Hand, about an Hour hence; you will guess my Business, when you know my name to be
Alonzo.
Alon. How’s that? [Aside.
Ant. I wish’t had been another Enemy, Since from the Justice of his Cause I fear 304 An ill success; would I had seen _Hippolyta_, That e’er I dy’d I might have had her pardon. This Conscience—’tis ominous, But ne’er appears in any horrid shape, Till it approaches Death—
[Goes forward, sees _Hippolyta_, who justles him in passing by; he stops and looks.
Hip. You seem, Sir, to be he whom I expect.
Ant. I’m call’d _Antonio_, Sir—
Hip. And I _Alonzo_; the rest we need not ask, For thou art well acquainted with my Injuries, And I with thy Perfidiousness. [Draws.
Ant. I know of none you have receiv’d from me, If on _Hippolyta’s_ account you fight: She lov’d me, and believ’d; and what dull Lover Would have refus’d a Maid so easily gain’d?
Hip. Ah, Traytor, by how base a way Thou wouldst evade thy Fate? Didst thou not know she was my Wife by promise? Did not _Marcel_, _Ambrosio_, all consent To make her mine as soon as I arriv’d?
Alon. Who the Devil’s that young Bully that takes my Name, and my Concerns upon him? [Aside.
Hip. But why should I expect a Truth from thee, Who after so much time, so many Vows, So many Tears, Despairs and Sighs, at last Didst gain a Credit with this easy Fool, Then left her to her shames, and her despairs?—Come, Sir— Or I shall talk my self to calmness— [Aside.
Ant. I’m ready, Sir, to justify the Deed.
[They offer to fight, _Alonzo_ steps forth.
Alon. Hold! hold! fair Thief that rob’st me of my Name, And wouldst my Honour too; [Puts her by. If thou hast wrong’d the fair _Hippolyta_, [To _Antonio_. No Man but I has right to do her justice. Or you are both my Rivals—tell me which, 305 Which of you is it I must kill—or both? I am _Alonzo_, who dares love _Hippolyta?_
Hip. Let not your friendship, Sir, proceed so far, To take my Name, to take my Quarrel on you.
Alon. In this Dispute none’s more concern’d than I, And I will keep my ground in such a cause, Tho all the Rivals that her Beauty makes me, Were arm’d to take my Life away.
Ant. Come, Sir, I care not which of you’s _Alonzo_. [They go to fight, she holds _Alonzo_.
Hip. This Gallantry’s too much, brave Stranger. _Antonio_, hurt him not; I am the wrong’d _Alonzo_, And this a perfect Stranger to the business, Who seeing me appear less Man than he, And unacquainted with my Deeds abroad, In Bounty takes my Name and Quarrel on him.
Alon. Take heed, young Man, and keep thy Virtue in, Lest thus misguided it become a Crime. But thou, he says, hast wrong’d _Hippolyta_, [To _Antonio_. And I am he must punish it.
Hip. Sure it is he indeed— For such a Miracle my Brother render’d him, [Aside. Hold, hold, thou Wonder of thy Sex— [They fight.
Alon. Stand by, I shall be angry with thee else, And that will be unsafe—
[As _Alonzo_ fights with one Hand, he keeps her off with t’other; she presses still forward on _Antonio_ with her Sword, indeavouring to keep back _Alonzo_.
Enter to them _Marcel._
Mar. Sure I heard the Noise of Swords this way! [Draws. Hah, two against one! Courage, Sir. [To _Antonio_.
[They fight all four, _Marcel_ with _Hippolyta_ whom he wounds, and _Alonzo_ with _Antonio_, who is disarmed.
Hip. Good Heaven, how just thou art!
306 Mar. What, dost thou faint already?—Hah, the pretty talking Youth I saw but now! [Runs to her, and holds her up. Alas, how dost thou?
Hip. Well, since thy Hand has wounded me—
Ant. My Life is yours, nor would I ask the Gift, But to repair my Injuries to _Hippolyta_.
Alon. I give it thee— [Gives him his Sword.
Mar. How, _Antonio!_— What unkind Hand has rob’d me of the justice Of killing thee?
Alon. His that was once thy Friend, _Marcel_.
Mar. Oh! dost thou know my Shame? [Turns away.
Alon. I know thou art false to Friendship, And therefore do demand mine back again, thou’st us’d it scurvily.
Mar. Thou knowst too much to think I’ve injur’d thee.
Alon. Not injur’d me! Who was it promis’d me _Hippolyta?_ Who his Alliance, and his Friendship too? And who has broke them all, but thou perfidious? Come, ’tis _Hippolyta_ that I demand.
Mar. By this he should not know my Sister’s Shame. [Aside. Oh, Sir, you must not have _Hippolyta_.
Alon. How! not have _Hippolyta!_ Tho every Step were guarded by a Brother, Tho she were circled round about with Rivals, Ye should not all have Power to keep her from me. Not have _Hippolyta!_— ’Sdeath, Sir, because I do not know my Birth, And cannot boast a little empty Title, I must not have _Hippolyta_.— Now I will have her; and when you know I can, You shall petition me to marry her. And yet I will not do’t. Come, Sir— [Offers to fight.
307 Hip. Hold, hold, brave Man, or turn your Sword on me. I am the unhappy Cause of all your Rage: ’Tis I, generous _Alonzo_, that can tell you What he’s asham’d to own, And thou wilt blush to hear.
Mar. _Hippolyta!_ thou wretched wicked Woman: Thus I reward thy Sins— [Offers to kill her, _Antonio_ steps between.
Ant. Hold, Sir, and touch her not without my leave, She is my Wife; by sacred Vows my Wife.
Alon. I understand no riddling; but whoever thou be’st. Man or Woman, thou’rt worth our Care— She faints—come, let us bear her hence. [She faints, _Antonio_ kneels to her.
Ant. Oh stay, _Hippolyta_, and take me with thee, For I’ve no use of Life when thou art gone. [Weeps. Here, kill me, brave _Marcel_—and yet you need not; My own Remorse, and Grief will be sufficient.
Mar. I credit thee, and leave thee to their Mercy.
Hip. That Goodness, Sir, has call’d me back to Life, To pay my humble Thanks; could you have Mercy too, To pardon me—you might redeem my Soul.
Mar. Some Pity I have yet, that may preserve thee too, Provided this Repentance be not feign’d.
Ant. My Life, Sir, is Security for both.
Mar. Doubt not, I’ll take the Forfeit, Sir—Come, _Hippolyta_. Thy Father’s House shall once again receive thee.
Ant. Lean on my Arm, my dearest.
Mar. Sir, by the way, I’ll let you know her Story, And then perhaps you will not blame my Friendship.
Alon. And in return, I’ll give you back _Clarinda_— And beg your Pardon for the Wound I gave you. [Exeunt, leading _Hippolyta_.
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