CALANTHA

Your friend.— A Toy This is pretty, I am, belike, a Mistress. — wondrous pretty: Let the man keep his fortune, since he found it; He's worthy on't. — On Cozen. Dear Sir, King, Father! Your into indisposition, Sir, forbade it. Now or never May I propose a suit. Pray Sir give me this young man, and no further Account him yours, then he deserves in all things To be thought worthy mine; I will esteem him According to his merit. Th'art mine. — Have I now kept my word. Sweet be not from my sighed. We miss our servant Ithocles and Orgilus, On whom attend they? A fair excuse for absence: as for Bassanes. Delights to him are troublesome; Armostes Is with the King. On to the dance: Dear Cozen, hand you the Bride, the Bridegroom must be Entrusted to my Courtship: be not icam oh Euphranea, I shall scarcely prove a temptress: Fallen to our dance. To the other change. Beshrew thee, Led to the next. How dull this music sounds? strike up more sprightly? Our footing's are not active Like our heart Which treads the nimbler measure. So, let us breath a while: hath not this motion Raised fresher colour on your cheeks? We all look cheerfully: And Cozen, it's, me thinks, a rare presumption In any, who prefe S our lawful pleasures Before their own sour censure, to interrupt The custom of this Ceremony bluntly. Yes, yes; some hollow voice delivered to me How that the King was dead. Peace crown his ashes: we are queen then. What whispered Bass ? She's happy; she hath finished A long and painful progress.— A third murmur Pierced mine unwilling ears. By whose hand? You have done it. We begin our reign With a first act of Justice: thy confession, Unhappy Orgilus, dooms thee a sentence; But yet thy father's, or thy sisters presence Shall be excused: give, Crotolon, a blessing To thy lost son Euphranea, take a farewell, And both be gone. Now withdraw: Bloody relator of thy stains in blood; For that thou hast reported him whose Fortune's And life by thee are both at once snatched from him, With honourable mention; make thy choice Of what death likes thee best, there's all our bounty. But to excuse delays, let me (deer Cozen) Entreat you and these Lords see execution Instant before thou partly. To their wisdoms Who are to be spectators of thine end, I make the reference: those that are dead, Are dead; had they not now died, of necessity They must have paid the debt they owed to nature, One time or other. — Use dispatch, my Lords, Wee'll suddenly prepare our Coronation. Our Orisons are herd, the gods are merciful: Now tell me, you whose loyalties pays tribute To us your lawful Sovereign, how unskilful Your duties or obedience is, to render Subjection to the Sceptre of a Virgin, Who have been ever fortunate in Princes Of masculine and stirring composition? A woman has enough to govern wisely Her own demeanours, passion, and divisions. A Nation warlike and inum ed to practice Of policy and labour, cannot brook A feminate authority: we therefore Command your counsel, how you may advise us In choosing of a husband whose abilities Can better guide this kingdom. Hold you the same mind. Cozen of Argos. Were I presently To choose you for my Lord, I'll open freely What articles I would propose to treat on Before our marriage. I would presume you would retain the royalty Of Sparta in her own bounds: then in Argos Armostes might be Viceroy; in Mess ne Might Crotolon bear sway, and Bassanes — Be Sparta's Marshal: The multitudes of high employments could not But set a peace to private griefs: these Gentlemen, Gron as and Lemophil, with worthy pensions Should wait upon your person in your Chamber: I would bestow Crystal on Amelus, Shee'll prove a constant wife, and Phil m. Should into Vesta's Temple. Lastly, for Prophilus He should be (Cozen) solemnly invested In all those honours, titles, and preferments Which his deer friend, and my neglected husband Too short a time enjoyed. Forgive me: now I turn to thee thou shadow Of my contracted Lord: bear witness all, I put my mother wedding Ring upon His finger, 'twas my father's last bequest: Thus I new marry him whose wife I am; Death shall not separate us: o my Lords, I but deceived your eyes with Antic gesture, When one news straight came huddling on another, Of death, and death, and death, still I danced forward, But it struck home, and here, and in and instant, Be such mere women, who with shrieks and outcry Can vow a present end to all their sorrows, Yet live to vow new pleasures, and outlive them: They are the silent griefs which cut the heartstrings; Let me die smiling. One kiss on these cold lips, my last; crack, cr cke. Argos now's Sparta is King: command the voices Which wait at the Altar, now to sing the song I fitted for my end. With the circumstance And manner of the fight, related faithfully By Prophilus himself; but pray Sir, tell me, How does the youthful General demean His actions in these Fortune's? Chrystalla, Philena, the Chaplet. — Ithocles Upon the wings of Fame, the singular And chosen fortune of and high attempt, Is born so passed the view of common sighed, That I my self, with mine own hands, have wrought To crown thy Temples, this provincial garland; Accept, wear, and enjoy it, as our gift Deserved, not purchased. I present 'e A stranger here in Court (my Lord,) for did not Desire of seeing you, draw her abroad, We had not been made happy in her company. Now Crotolon, the suit we joined in must not Fallen by too long demur. Such delay is easy. The joys of marriage make thee, Prophilus, A proud deserver of Euphrama's love, And her of thy desert. We will attend him. Well Sir. Princely Sir, So well you know how to profess observance That you instruct your hearers to become Practitioners in duty; of which number I'll study to be chief. A Prince, a subject? You are too Courtly. A noble birth Becoming such a father. — worthy Orgilus, You are a guest most withed for. Thine arm I prethe Ithocles. — Nay, good My Lord keep on your way, I am provided. Who ever would speak with us deny his entrance Be careful of our charge. Except the King himself, none admittance, Not any. Being alone, Penthea, you have granted The opportunity you sought, and might At all times have commanded. You feed too much your melancholy. Contemn not your condition, for the proof Of bore opinion only: to what end Reach all these Moral texts? Indeed You have no little cause; yet none so great As to distrust a remedy. Speak, I enjoy it. Vouchsafe then to be my Ex riam, And take that trouble oh thou, to dispose Such Legacies, as I bequeathe impartially I have not much to give, the pains are easy, Heaven will reward your piety, and thank it When I am dead; for sure I must not live, I hope I cannot. Now beshrew thy sadness; Thou turnest me too much woman. Talk on, prethe, It is a pretty earnest. To whom that? A second Jewel You mean to partly with. How handsomely thou playst with harmless sport Of mere imagination; speak the last, I strangely Like thy will. Do not doubt me. What saidst thou? Shall I answer here, Or lend my ear too gr ffely? You hau forgotten, P nthea, How still I have a father. — Lady, Your check lies in my . I think thou sleep, ee dro es; wait on Penth a Unto her lodging. — Ithoc S wronged Lady! You shall not valve (Sweet Cozen) at a price what I count cheap, So cheap, that let him take it who dares stoop for't, And give it at next meeting to a Mistress, Shee'le thank him for't, perhaps. Casts it to Ithocles. What new change Appears in my behaviour, that that Tempt my displeasure? How! The Prince of Argos ?