Chapter 6

_Enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL, _with swords, and disguised in vizards._

_Har. Jun._ We are disguised enough; the evening now grows dusk.--I would the deed were done!

_Enter_ PEREZ _with a Soldier, and overhears them._

_Fisc._ 'Twill now be suddenly, if we have courage in this wild woody walk, hot with the feast and plenteous bowls, the bridal company are walking to enjoy the cooling breeze; I spoke to Towerson, as I said I would, and on some private business of great moment, desired that he would leave the company, and meet me single here.

_Har. Jan._ Where if he comes, he never shall return But Towerson stays too long for my revenge; I am in haste to kill him.

_Fisc._ He promised me to have been here ere now; if you think fitting, I'll go back and bring him.

_Har. Jun._ Do so, I'll wait you in this place. [_Exit_ Fisc.

_Per._ Was ever villany like this of these unknown assassins? Towerson, in vain I saved thy sleeping life if now I let thee lose it, when thou wakest; thou lately hast been bountiful to me, and this way I'll acknowledge it. Yet to disclose their crimes were dangerous. What must I do? This generous Englishman will strait be here, and consultation then perhaps will be too late: I am resolved.--Lieutenant, you have heard, as well as I, the bloody purpose of these men?

_Sold._ I have, and tremble at the mention of it.

_Per._ Dare you adventure on an action, as brave as theirs is base?

_Sold._ Command my life.

_Per._ No more. Help me despatch that murderer, ere his accomplice comes: the men I know not; but their design is treacherous and bloody.

_Sold._ And he, they mean to kill, is brave himself, and of a nation I much love.

_Per._ Come on then. [_Both draw. To_ HAR.] Villain, thou diest, thy conscience tells thee why; I need not urge the crime. [_They assault him._

_Har. Jun._ Murder! I shall be basely murdered; help!

_Enter_ TOWERSON.

_Tow._ Hold, villains! what unmanly odds is this? Courage, whoe'er thou art; I'll succour thee. [TOWERSON _fights with_ PEREZ, _and_ HARMAN _with the Lieutenant, and drive them off the stage._

_Har. Jun._ Though, brave unknown, night takes thee from my knowledge, and I want time to thank thee now, take this, and wear it for my sake; [_Gives him a ring._] Hereafter I'll acknowledge it more largely. [_Exit._

_Tow._ That voice I've heard; but cannot call to mind, except it be young Harman's. Yet, who should put his life in danger thus? This ring I would not take as salary, but as a gage of his free heart who left it; and, when I know him, I'll restore the pledge. Sure 'twas not far from hence I made the appointment: I know not what this Dutchman's business is, yet, I believe, 'twas somewhat from my rival. It shall go hard, but I will find him out, and then rejoin the company. [_Exit._

_Re-enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ FISCAL.

_Fisc._ The accident was wondrous strange: Did you neither know your assassinates, nor your deliverer?

_Har. Jun._ 'Twas all a hurry; yet, upon better recollecting of myself, the man, who freed me, must be Towerson.

_Fisc._ Hark, I hear the company walking this way; will you withdraw?

_Har. Jun._ Withdraw, and Isabinda coming!

_Fisc._ The wood is full of murderers; every tree, methinks, hides one behind it.

_Har. Jun._ You have two qualities, my friend, that sort but ill together; as mischievous as hell could wish you, but fearful in the execution.

_Fisc._ There is a thing within me, called a conscience which is not quite o'ercome; now and then it rebels a little, especially when I am alone, or in the dark.

_Har. Jun._ The moon begins to rise, and glitters through the trees.

_Isab._ [_Within._] Pray let us walk this way; that farther lawn, between the groves, is the most green and pleasant of any in this isle.

_Har. Jun._ I hear my siren's voice, I cannot stir from hence.--Dear friend, if thou wilt e'er oblige me, divert the company a little, and give me opportunity a while to talk alone with her.

_Fisc._ You'll get nothing of her, except it be by force.

_Har. Jun._ You know not with what eloquence love may inspire my tongue: The guiltiest wretch, when ready for his sentence, has something still to say.

_Fisc._ Well, they come; I'll put you in a way, and wish you good success; but do you hear? remember you are a man, and she a woman; a little force, it may be, would do well.

_Enter_ ISABINDA, BEAMONT, MIDDLETON, COLLINS, HARMAN _Senior; and_ JULIA.

_Isab._ Who saw the bridegroom last?

_Har. Sen._ He refused to pledge the last rummer; so I am out of charity with him.

_Beam._ Come, shall we backward to the castle? I'll take care of you, lady.

_Jul_ Oh, you have drunk so much, you are past all care.

_Col._ But where can be this jolly bridegroom? Answer me that; I will have the bride satisfied.

_Fisc._ He walked alone this way; we met him lately.

_Isab._ I beseech you, sir, conduct us.

_Har. Jun._ I'll bring you to him, madam.

_Fisc._ [_To_ HAR. _Jun._] Remember, now's your time; if you o'erslip this minute, fortune perhaps will never send another.

_Har. Jun._ I am resolved.

_Fisc._ Come, gentlemen, I'll tell you such a pleasant accident, you'll think the evening short.

_Jul._ I love a story, and a walk by moonshine.

_Fisc._ Lend me your hand then, madam. [_Takes her by the one hand._

_Beam._ But one, I beseech you then; I must not quit her so. [_Takes her by the other hand. Exeunt._

_Re-enter_ HARMAN _Junior, and_ ISABINDA.

_Isab._ Come, sir, which is the way? I long to see my love.

_Har. Jun._ You may have your wish, and without stirring hence.

_Isab._ My love so near? Sure you delight to mock me!

_Har. Jun._ 'Tis you delight to torture me; behold the man who loves you more than his own eyes; more than the joys of earth, or hopes of heaven.

_Isab._ When you renewed your friendship with my Towerson, I thought these vain desires were dead within you.

_Har. Jun._ Smothered they were, not dead; your eyes can kindle no such petty fires, as only blaze a while, and strait go out.

_Isab._ You know, when I had far less ties upon me, I would not hear you; therefore wonder not if I withdraw, and find the company.

_Har. Jun._ That would be too much cruelty, to make me wretched, and then leave me so.

_Isab._ Am I in fault if you are miserable? so you may call the rich man's wealth, the cause and object of the robber's guilt. Pray do not persecute me farther: You know I have a husband now, and would be loth to afflict his knowledge with your second folly.

_Har. Jun._ What wondrous care you take to make him happy! yet I approve your method. Ignorance! oh, 'tis a jewel to a husband; that is, 'tis peace in him, 'tis virtue in his wife, 'tis honour in the world; he has all this, while he is ignorant.

_Isab._ You pervert my meaning: I would not keep my actions from his knowledge; your bold attempts I would: But yet henceforth conceal your impious flames; I shall not ever be thus indulgent to your shame, to keep it from his notice.

_Har. Jun._ You are a woman; have enough of love for him and me; I know the plenteous harvest all is his: He has so much of joy, that he must labour under it. In charity, you may allow some gleanings to a friend.

_Isab._ Now you grow rude: I'll hear no more.

_Har. Jun._ You must.

_Imb._ Leave me.

_Har. Jun._ I cannot.

_Isab._ I find I must be troubled with this idle talk some minutes more, but 'tis your last.

_Har. Jun._ And therefore I'll improve it: Pray, resolve to make me happy by your free consent. I do not love these half enjoyments, to enervate my delights with using force, and neither give myself nor you that full content, which two can never have, but where both join with equal eagerness to bless each other.

_Isab._ Bless me, ye kind inhabitants of heaven, from hearing words like these!

_Har. Jun._ You must do more than hear them. You know you were now going to your bridal-bed. Call your own thoughts but to a strict account, they'll tell you, all this day your fancy ran on nothing else; 'tis but the same scene still you were to act; only the person changed,--it may be for the better.

_Isab._ You dare not, sure, attempt this villany.

_Har. Jun._ Call not the act of love by that gross name; you'll give it a much better when 'tis done, and woo me to a second.

_Isab._ Dost thou not fear a heaven?

_Har. Jun._ No, I hope one in you. Do it, and do it heartily; time is precious; it will prepare you better for your husband. Come-- [_Lays hold on her._

_Isab._ O mercy, mercy! Oh, pity your own soul, and pity mine; think how you'll wish undone this horrid act, when your hot lust is slaked; think what will follow when my husband knows it, if shame will let me live to tell it him; and tremble at a Power above, who sees, and surely will revenge it.

_Har. Jun._ I have thought!

_Isab._ Then I am sure you're penitent.

_Har. Jun._ No, I only gave you scope, to let you see, all you have urged I knew: You find 'tis to no purpose either to talk or strive.

_Isab._ [_Running._] Some succour! help, oh help! [_She breaks from him._

_Har. Jun._ [_Running after her._] That too is vain, you cannot 'scape me. [_Exit._

_Har. Jun._ [_Within._] Now you are mine; yield, or by force I'll take it.

_Isab._ [_Within._] Oh, kill me first!

_Har. Jun._ [_Within._] I'll bear you where your cries shall not be heard.

_Isab._ [_As further off._] Succour, sweet heaven! oh succour me!