ACT III. SCENE I.

_A Room in the Palace._

_Enter_ HORSUS _and_ ROXENA.

ROX. I’ve[420] no conceit[421] now that you ever lov’d me, But as lust led you for the time. HOR. See, see! ROX. Do you pine at my advancement, sir? HOR. O barrenness Of understanding! what a right love’s[422] this! ’Tis you that fall, I that am reprehended: What height of honours, eminence of fortune, Should ravish me from you? ROX. Who can tell that, sir? What’s he can judge of a man’s appetite Before he sees him eat? Who knows the strength of any’s constancy That never yet was tempted? We can call Nothing our own, if they be deeds to come; They’re only ours when they are pass’d and done. How blest are you above your apprehension, If your desire would lend you so much patience, T’ examine the adventurous condition Of our affections, which are full of hazard, And draw in the time’s goodness to defend us! First, this bold course of ours cannot last long, Nor ever does in any without shame, And that, you know, brings danger; and the greater My father is in blood, as he’s[423] well risen, The greater will the storm of his rage be ’Gainst[424] his blood’s wronging: I have cast[425] for this. ’Tis not advancement that I love alone; ’Tis love of shelter, to keep shame unknown. HOR. O, were I sure of thee, as ’tis impossible There to be ever sure where there’s no hold, Your pregnant hopes should not be long in rising! ROX. By what assurance have you held me thus far, Which you found firm, despair you not in that. HOR. True, that was good security for the time; But in a change of state, when you’re advanc’d, You women have a French toy in your pride, You make your friend come crouching; or perhaps, To bow in th’ hams the better, he is put To compliment three hours with your chief woman, Then perhaps not admitted; no, nor ever, That’s the more noble fashion. Forgetfulness Is the most pleasing virtue they can have, That do spring up from nothing; for by the same Forgetting all, they forget whence they came, An excellent property of oblivion. ROX. I pity all the fortunes of poor women In my own unhappiness. When we have given All that we have to men, what’s our requital? An ill-fac’d jealousy, that resembles much The mistrustfulness of an insatiate thief, That scarce believes he has all, though he has stripp’d The true man[426] naked, and left nothing on him But the hard cord that binds him: so are we First robb’d, and then left bound by jealousy. Take reason’s advice, and you’ll find it impossible For you to lose me in this king’s advancement, Who’s an usurper here; and as the kingdom, So shall he have my love by usurpation; The right shall be in thee still. My ascension To dignity is but to waft thee higher; And all usurpers have the falling-sickness, They cannot keep up long. HOR. May credulous man Put all his confidence in so weak a bottom, And make a saving voyage? ROX. Nay, as gainful As ever man yet made. HOR. Go, take thy fortunes, Aspire with my consent, So thy ambition will be sure to prosper; Speak the fair certainties of Britain’s queen Home to thy wishes. ROX. Speak in hope I may, But not in certainty. HOR. I say in both: Hope, and be sure I’ll soon remove the let[427] That stands between thee and[428] glory. ROX. Life of love! If lost virginity can win such a day, I’ll have no daughter but shall learn my way. [_Exit._ HOR. ’Twill be good work for him that first instructs them: May be some son[s] of mine, got by this woman too, May match with their own sisters. Peace, ’tis he.

_Enter_ VORTIGER.

Invention, fail me not: ’tis a gallant credit To marry one’s whore bravely. [_Aside._ VORT. Have I power Of life and death, and cannot command ease In my own blood? After I was a king, I thought I never should have felt pain more; That there had been a ceasing of all passions And common stings, which subjects use to feel, That were created with a patience fit For all extremities. But such as we Know not the way to suffer; then to do it, How most preposterous ’tis! Tush, riddles, riddles! I’ll break through custom. Why should not the mind, The nobler part that’s of us, be allow’d Change of affections, as our bodies are Change of food and raiment? I’ll have it so. All fashions appear strange at first production; But this would be well followèd.—O, captain! HOR. My lord, I grieve for you; I scarce fetch breath, But a sigh hangs at the end of it: but this Is not the way, if you’d[429] give way to counsel. VORT. Set me right then, or I shall heavily curse thee For lifting up my understanding to me, To shew that I was wrong. Ignorance is safe; I then slept happily: if knowledge mend me not, Thou hast committed a most cruel sin, To wake me into judgment, and then leave me. HOR. I will not leave you, sir; that were rudely done. First, you’ve a flame too open and too violent, Which, like blood-guiltiness in an offender, Betrays him when nought else can. Out with’t,[430] sir; Or let some cunning coverture be made Before your practice[431] enters: ’twill spoil all else. VORT. Why, look you, sir; I can be as calm as silence All the while music plays. Strike on, sweet friend, As mild and merry as the heart of innocence; I prithee, take my temper. Has a virgin A heat more modest? HOR. He does well to ask me; I could have told him once. [_Aside._]—Why, here’s a government! There’s not a sweeter amity in friendship Than in this league ’twixt you and health. VORT. Then since Thou find’st me capable of happiness, Instruct me with the practice. HOR. What will you say, my lord, If I ensnare her in an act[432] of lust? VORT.[433] O, there were art to the life! but ’tis impossible; I prithee, flatter me no farther with it. Fie! so much sin as goes to make up that, Will ne’er[434] prevail with her. Why, I’ll tell you, sir, She’s so sin-killing modest, that if only To move the question were enough adultery To cause a separation, there’s no gallant So brassy-impudent durst undertake The words that shall belong to’t. HOR. Say you so, sir? There’s nothing made in the world but has a way to’t; Though some be harder than the rest to find, Yet one there is, that’s certain; and I think I’ve took the course to light on’t.[435] VORT. O, I pray for’t! HOR. I heard you lately say (from whence, my lord, My practice[436] receiv’d life first), that your queen Still consecrates her time to contemplation, Takes solitary walks. VORT. Nay, late and early Commands her weak guard from her, which are but Women at strongest. HOR. I like all this, my lord: And now, sir, you shall know what net is us’d In many places to catch modest women, Such as will never yield by prayers or gifts. Now there be some will catch up men as fast; But those she-fowlers nothing concern us; Their birding is at windows; ours abroad, Where ring-doves should be caught, that’s married wives, Or chaste maids; what the appetite has a mind to. VORT. Make no pause then. HOR. The honest gentlewoman, When nothing will prevail—I pity her now— Poor soul, she’s entic’d forth by her own sex To be betray’d to man; who in some garden-house[437] Or remote walk, taking his lustful time, Binds darkness on her eyelids, surprises her; And having a coach ready, turns her in, Hurrying her where he list for the sin’s safety, Making a rape of honour without words; And at the low ebb of his lust, perhaps Some three days after, sends her coach’d again To the same place; and, which would make most mad, She’s robb’d of all, yet knows not where she’s robb’d, There’s the dear precious mischief! VORT. Is this practis’d? HOR. Too much, my lord, to be so little known; A springe to catch a maidenhead after sun-set, Clip it, and send it home again to the city, There ’twill ne’er be perceiv’d. VORT. My raptures want expression; I conceit[438] Enough to make me fortunate, and thee great. HOR. I praise it then, my lord.—I knew ’twould take. [Aside.] [Exeunt.