The Works Of John Dryden Now First Collected In Eighteen Volume
Chapter 56
MELISSA, _after her_ OLINDA _and_ SABINA.
_Mel_. I must take this business up in time: This wild fellow begins to haunt my house again. Well, I'll be bold to say it, 'tis as easy to bring up a young lion without mischief, as a maidenhead of fifteen, to make it tame for an husband's bed. Not but that the young man is handsome, rich, and young, and I could be content he should marry one of them; but to seduce them both in this manner:--Well, I'll examine them apart, and if I can find out which he loves, I'll offer him his choice.--Olinda, come hither, child.
_Olin_. Your pleasure, madam?
_Met_. Nothing but for your good, Olinda; what think you of Celadon?
_Olin_. Why I think he's a very mad fellow; but yet I have some obligements to him: he teaches me new airs of the guitar, and talks wildly to me, and I to him.
_Mel_. But tell me in earnest, do you think he loves you?
_Olin_. Can you doubt it? There were never two so cut out for one another; we both love singing, dancing, treats, and music. In short, we are each other's counterpart.
_Mel_. But does he love you seriously?
_Olin_. Seriously?--I know not that; if he did, perhaps I should not love him: But we sit and talk, and wrangle, and are friends; when we are together, we never hold our tongues; and then we have always a noise of fiddles at our heels; he hunts me merrily, as the hound does the hare; and either this is love, or I know it not.
_Mel_. Well, go back, and call Sabina to me.
[_OLINDA goes behind_.
This is a riddle past my finding out: Whether he loves her, or no, is the question; but this, I am sure of, she loves him:--O my little favourite, I must ask you a question concerning Celadon: is he in love with you?
_Sab_. I think, indeed, he does not hate me; at least, if a man's word may be taken for it.
_Mel_. But what expressions has he made you?
_Sab_. Truly, the man has done his part: He has spoken civilly to me, and I was not so young but I understood him.
_Mel_. And you could be content to marry him?
_Sab_. I have sworn never to marry: besides he's a wild young man; yet, to obey you, mother, I would be content to be sacrificed.
_Mel_. No, no, we would but lead you to the altar.
_Sab_. Not to put off the gentleman neither; for if I have him not, I am resolved to die a maid, that's once, mother.
_Mel_. Both my daughters are in love with him, and I cannot yet find he loves either of them.
_Olin_. Mother, mother, yonder's Celadon in the walks.
_Mel_. Peace, wanton; you had best ring the bells for joy. Well, I'll not meet him, because I know not which to offer him; yet he seems to like the youngest best: I'll give him opportunity with her. Olinda, do you make haste after me.
_Olin_. This is something hard though.
[_Exit_ MEL.
_Enter_ CELADON.
_Cel_. You see, ladies, the least breath of yours brings me to you: I have been seeking you at your lodgings, and from thence came hither after you.
_Sab_. 'Twas well you found us.
_Cel_. Found you! half this brightness betwixt you two was enough to have lighted me; I could never miss my way: Here's fair Olinda has beauty enough for one family; such a voice, such a wit, so noble a stature, so white a skin!--
_Olin_. I thought he would be particular at last. [_Aside_.
_Cel_. And young Sabina, so sweet an innocence, such a rose-bud newly blown. This is my goodly palace of love, and that my little withdrawing room. A word, madam.--[_To_ SAB.
_Olin_. I like not this--[_Aside_.] Sir, if you are not too busy with my sister, I would speak with you.
_Cel_. I come, madam.
_Sab_. Time enough, sir; pray finish your discourse--and as you were a saying, sir,--
_Olin_. Sweet sir,--
_Sab_. Sister, you forget, my mother bid you make haste.
_Olin_. Well, go you, and tell her I am coming.
_Sab_. I can never endure to be the messenger of ill news; but, if you please, I'll send her word you won't come.
_Olin_. Minion, minion, remember this--[_Exit OLIN_.
_Sab_. She's horribly in love with you.
_Cel_. Lord, who could love that walking steeple! She's so high, that every time she sings to me, I am looking up for the bell that tolls to church.--Ha! give me my little fifth-rate, that lies so snug. She! hang her, a Dutch-built bottom: She's so tall, there's no boarding her. But we lose time--madam, let me seal my love upon your mouth. [_Kiss_] Soft and sweet, by heaven! sure you wear rose-leaves between your lips.
_Sab_. Lord, Lord, what's the matter with me! my breath grows so short, I can scarce speak to you.
_Cel_. No matter, give me thy lips again, and I'll speak for thee.
_Sab_. You don't love me--
_Cel_. I warrant thee; sit down by me, and kiss again,--She warms faster than Pygmalion's image. [_Aside_]--[_Kiss_.]--Ay marry, sir, this was the original use of lips; talking, eating, and drinking came in by and by.
_Sab_. Nay, pray be civil; will you be at quiet?
_Cel_. What, would you have me sit still, and look upon you, like a little puppy-dog, that's taught to beg with his fore-leg up?
_Enter_ FLORIMEL.
_Flo_. Celadon the faithful! in good time, sir,--
_Cel_. In very good time, Florimel; for heaven's sake, help me quickly.
_Flo_. What's the matter?
_Cel_. Do you not see? here's a poor gentlewoman in a swoon! (Swoon away.) I have been rubbing her this half hour, and cannot bring her to her senses.
_Flo_. Alas! how came she so?
_Cel_. Oh barbarous! do you stay to ask questions? run, for charity.
_Flo_. Help, help! alas! poor lady--[_Exit_ FLO.
_Sab_. Is she gone?
_Cel_. Ay, thanks be to my wit, that helped me at a pinch; I thank heaven, I never pumpt for a lye in all my life yet.
_Sab_. I am afraid you love her, Celadon!
_Cel_. Only as a civil acquaintance, or so; but, however, to avoid slander, you had best be gone before she comes again.
_Sab_. I can find a tongue as well as she.
_Cel_. Ay, but the truth is, I am a kind of scandalous person, and for you to be seen in my company--stay in the walks, by this kiss I'll be with you presently.
_Enter_ FLORIMEL _running_.
_Flo_. Help, help!--I can find nobody.
_Cel_. Tis needless now, my dear; she's recovered, and gone off; but so wan and weakly,--
_Flo_.Umph! I begin to smell a rat.--What was your business here, Celadon?
_Cel_. Charity, Christian charity; you saw I was labouring for life with her.
_Flo_. But how came you hither?--Not that I care this, but only to be satisfied. [_Sings_.
_Cel_. You are jealous, in my conscience!
_Flo_. Who, I jealous!--then I wish this sigh may be the last that ever I may draw. [_Sighs_.
_Cel_. But why do you sigh, then?
_Flo_. Nothing but a cold, I cannot fetch my breath well. But what will you say, if I wrote the letter you had, to try your faith?
_Cel_. Hey day! this is just the devil and the sinner; you lay snares for me, and then punish me for being taken: Here's trying a man's faith indeed!--What, do you think I had the faith of a stock, or of a stone? Nay, an you go to tantalize a man--I love upon the square, I can endure no tricks to be used to me.
[OLINDA _and_ SABINA _at the door peeping_.
_Olin_. and _Sab_. Celadon! Celadon!
_Flo_. What voices are those?
_Cel_. Some comrades of mine, that call me to play.--Pox on them, they'll spoil all. [_Aside_.
_Flo_. Pray, let's see them.
_Cel_. Hang them, tatterdemallions! they are not worth your sight.--Pray, gentlemen, begone; I'll be with you immediately.
_Sab_. No; we'll stay here for you.
_Flo_. Do your gentlemen speak with treble voices? I am resolved to see what company you keep.
_Cel_. Nay, good my dear.
[_He lays hold of her to pull her back, she lays hold of_ OLINDA, _by whom_ SABINA _holds; so that, he pulling, they all come in_.
_Flo_. Are these your comrades? [Sings.] _'Tis Strephon calls, what would my love?_ Why do you not roar out, like a great bass-viol, _Come follow to the myrtle-grove_.--Pray, sir, which of these fair ladies is it, for whom you were to do the courtesy? for it were unconscionable to leave you to them both:--What, a mans but a man, you know.
_Olin_. The gentleman may find an owner.
_Sab_. Though not of you.
_Flo_. Pray, agree whose the lost sheep is, and take him.
_Cel_. 'Slife, they'll cry me anon, and tell my marks.
_Flo_. Troth, I pity your highness there; I perceive he has left you for the little one: Methinks he should have been afraid to break his neck, when he fell so high as from you to her.
_Sab_. Well, my drolling lady, I may be even with you.
_Flo_. Not this ten years, by the growth, yet.
_Sab_. Can flesh and blood endure this!
_Flo_. How now, my amazon _in decimo sexto_!
_Olin_. Do you affront my sister?
_Flo_. Ay; but thou art so tall, I think I shall never affront thee.
_Sab_. Come away, sister; we shall be jeered to death else. [_Exeunt_ OLIN. _and_ SAB.
_Flo_. Why do you look that way? You can't forbear leering after the forbidden fruit.--But whene'er I take a wencher's word again!
_Cel_. A wencher's word!--Why should you speak so contemptibly of the better half of mankind? I'll stand up for the honour of my vocation.
_Flo_. You are in no fault, I warrant!--'Ware my busk[A].
[Footnote A: The now almost forgotten _busk_ was a small slip of steel or wood, used to stiffen the stays. Florimel threatens to employ it as a rod of chastisement.]
_Cel_. Not to give a fair lady the lie, I am in fault; but otherwise--Come, let us be friends, and let me wait on you to your lodgings.
_Flo_. This impudence shall not save you from my table-book. _Item_, A month more for this fault. [_They walk to the door_.
_1 Sold. [within.]_ Stand!--
_2 Sold_. Stand, give the word!
_Cel_. Now, what's the meaning of this, trow?--guards set!
_1 Sold_. Give the word, or you cannot pass:--These are they, brother; let's in and seize them.
_The two Soldiers enter_.
_1 Sold_. Down with him!
_2 Sold_. Disarm him!_Cel_. How now, rascals?-- [_Draws, and beats one off, and catches the other_. Ask your life, you villain. _2 Sold_. Quarter! quarter!
_Cel_. Was ever such an insolence?
_2 Sold_. We did but our duty;--here we were set to take a gentleman and lady, that would steal a marriage without the queen's consent, and we thought you had been they. [_Exit Sold_.
_Flo_. Your cousin Philocles, and the princess Candiope, on my life! for I heard the queen give private orders to Lysimantes, and name them twice or thrice.
_Cel_. I know a score or two of madcaps here hard by, whom I can pick up from taverns, and gaming-houses, and bordels; those I'll bring to aid him,--Now, Florimel, there's an argument for wenching: Where would you have had so many honest men together, upon the sudden, for a brave employment?
_Flo_. You'll leave me then, to take my fortune?
_Cel_. No:--If you will, I'll have you into the places aforesaid, and enter you into good company.
_Flo_. 'Thank you, sir; here's a key, will let me through this back-door to my own lodgings.
_Cel_. If I come off with life, I'll see you this evening; if not,--adieu, Florimel!
_Flo_. If you come not, I shall conclude you are killed; or taken, to be hanged for a rebel to-morrow morning: and then I'll honour your memory with a lampoon, instead of an epitaph.
_Cel_. No, no! I trust better in my fate: I know I am reserved to do you a courtesy. [_Exit_ CEL.
[_As_ FLORIMEL _is unlocking the door to go out,_ FLAVIA _opens it against her, and enters to her, followed by a Page_.
_Fla_. Florimel, do you hear the news?
_Flo_. I guess they are in pursuit of Philocles.
_Fla_. When Lysimantes came with the queen's orders, He refused to render up Candìope; And, with some few brave friends he had about him, Is forcing of his way through all the guards.
_Flo_. A gallant fellow!--I'll in, will you with me?-- Hark! the noise comes this way!
_Fla_. I have a message from the queen to Lysimantes.-- I hope I may be safe among the soldiers.
_Flo_. Oh, very safe!--Perhaps some honest fellow in the tumult may take pity of thy maidenhead, or so.--Adieu! [_Exit_ FLO.
_Page_. The noise comes nearer, madam.
_Fla_. I am glad on't.--This message gives me the opportunity of speaking privately with Lysimantes.
_Enter_ PHILOCLES _and_ CANDIOPE, _with three Friends, pursued by_ LYSIMANTES, _and Soldiers_.
_Lys_. What is it renders you thus obstinate? You have no hope of flight, and to resist is full as vain.
_Phil_. I'll die rather than yield her up.
_Fla_. My lord!
_Lys_. How now? some new message from the queen?-- Retire a while to a convenient distance.
[_To the Soldiers_. LYS. _and_ FLAV. _whisper_.
_Lys_. O Flavia, 'tis impossible! the queen in love with Philocles!
_Fla_. I have suspected it before; but now My ears and eyes are witnesses. This hour I overheard her, to Asteria, Making such sad complaints of her hard fate!-- For my part, I believe, you lead him back But to his coronation.
_Lys_. Hell take him first!
_Fla_. Presently after this she called for me, And bid me run, and, with strict care, command you, On peril of your life, he had no harm: But, sir, she spoke it with so great concernment, Methought I saw love, anger, and despair, All combating at once upon her face.
_Lys_. Tell the queen,--I know not what, I am distracted so.-- But go, and leave me to my thoughts.-- [_Exit_ FLAVIA. Was ever such amazing news, Told in so strange and critical a moment?-- What shall I do?-- Does she love Philocles, who loves not her; And loves not Lysimantes, who prefers her Above his life?--What rests, but that I take This opportunity, which she herself Has given me, to kill this happy rival!-- Assist me, soldiers!
_Phil_. They shall buy me dearly.
_Cand_. Ah me, unhappy maid!
_Enter _CELADON, _with his Friends, unbuttoned and reeling_.
_Cel_. Courage, my noble cousin! I have brought A band of blades, the bravest youths of Syracuse; Some drunk, some sober, all resolved to run Your fortune to the utmost.--Fall on, mad boys!
_Lys_. Hold a little!--I'm not secure of victory against these desperate ruffians.
_Cel_. No, but I'll secure you! They shall cut your throat for such another word of them. Ruffians, quoth a'! call gamesters, whoremasters, and drunkards, ruffians!
_Lys_. Pray, gentlemen, fall back a little.
_Cel_. O ho, are they gentlemen now with you!--Speak first to your gentlemen soldiers to retire; And then I'll speak to my gentlemen ruffians. [CEL. _signs to his party_. There's your disciplined men now.--[_They sign, and the Soldiers retire on both sides_. Come, gentlemen, let's lose no time: While they are talking, let's have one merry main before we die, for mortality sake.
_1 Fr_. Agreed! here's my cloak for a table.
_2 Fr_. And my hat for a box.
[_They lie down and throw_.
_Lys_. Suppose I killed him! 'Twould but exasperate the queen the more: He loves not her, nor knows he she loves him:-- sudden thought is come into my head,-- So to contrive it, that this Philocles, And these his friends, shall bring to pass that for me, Which I could never compass.--True, I strain A point of honour; but then her usage to me-- It shall be so.-- Pray, Philocles, command your soldiers off; As I will mine: I've somewhat to propose, Which you perhaps may like.
_Can_. I will not leave him.
_Lys_. 'Tis my desire you should not.
_Phil_. Cousin, lead off your friends.
_Cel_. One word in your ear, coz:--Let me advise you, either make your own conditions, or never agree with him: his men are poor rogues, they can never stand before us.
[_Exeunt all but_ Lys. Phil. _and_ Cand.
_Lys_. Suppose some friend, ere night, Should bring you to possess all you desire; And not so only, but secure forever The nation's happiness?
_Phil_. I would think of him, As some god or angel.
_Lys_. That god or angel you and I may be to one another. We have betwixt us An hundred men; the citadel you govern: What were it now to seize the queen?
_Phil_. O impiety! to seize the queen!-- To seize her, said you?
_Lys_. The word might be too rough,--I meant, secure her.
_Phil_. Was this your proposition?-- And had you none to make it to but me?
_Lys_. Pray hear me out, ere you condemn me!-- I would not the least violence were offered Her person. Two small grants is all I ask; To make me happy in herself, and you In your Candiope.
_Cand_. And will not you do this, my Philocles?-- Nay, now my brother speaks but reason.
_Phil_. Interest makes all seem reason, that leads to it. Interest, that does the zeal of sects create, To purge a church, and to reform a state.
_Lys_. In short, the queen hath sent to part you two:-- What more she means to her, I know not.
_Phil_. To her, alas!--Why, will not you protect her?
_Lys_. With you I can; but where's my power alone?
_Cand_. You know she loves me not: You lately heard her, How she insulted over me: How she Despised that beauty, which you say I have.-- I see, she purposes my death.
_Phil_. Why do you fright me with it? 'Tis in your brother's power to let us 'scape, And then you run no danger.
_Lys_. True, I may; But then my head must pay the forfeit of it.
_Phil_. O wretched Philocles! whither would love Hurry thee headlong?
_Lys_. Cease these exclamations. There's no danger on your side: 'tis but to Live without my sister; resolve that, And you have shot the gulf.
_Phil_. To live without her! Is that nothing, think you? The damned in hell endure no greater pain, Than seeing heaven from far with hopeless eyes.
_Cand_. Candiope must die, and die for you:-- See it not unrevenged at least.
_Phil_. Ha, unrevenged! On whom should I revenge it?-- But yet she dies, and I may hinder it? 'Tis I then murder my Candiope:-- And yet, should I take arms against my queen! That favoured me, raised me to what I am?-- Alas! it must not be.
_Lys_. He cools again.--[_Aside_. True, she once favoured you; But now I am informed. She is besotted on an upstart wretch So far, that she intends to make him master Both of her crown and person.
_Phil_. Knows he that! Then, what I dreaded most is come to pass.--[_Aside_. I am convinced of the necessity; Let us make haste to raze That action from the annals of her reign: No motive but her glory could have wrought me. I am a traitor to her, to preserve her From treason to herself: Yet heaven knows, With what a heavy heart Philocles turns reformer. But have care This fault of her strange passion take no air. Let not the vulgar blow upon her fame.
_Lys_. I will be careful:--Shall we go, my lord?
_Phil_. Time wastes apace; each first prepare his men.-- Come, my Candiope. [_Exeunt_ PHIL. _and_ CAND.
_Lys_. This ruins him forever with the queen; The odium's half his, the profit all my own. Those who, like me, by others' help would climb, To make them sure, must dip them in their crime. [_Exit_.