CALANTHA

Pray, why de'e use me so? you bind my arms, As if I meant to sighed, and they were lose, Indeed I won't, trust me, I'll kill no body. I never killed the poorest worm, or fly, Though 'twere against my will, but that I wept for't, And begged a pardon too, for sure 'twas murder. This exceeds cruelty, they will not let me eat; Look I am pined almost to nothing. Had I but strength enough to struggle with heaven By prayer, I'de expiate their sins, though they Continued to be cruel. Yes, yes, they will drop out, o happiness! Would mine would do so too; they smart extremely; Were't not a courtesy, I think ere this y'had pulled they forth. Take away the fool, we are much indisposed To laugh to day, good heaven, they flour my Misery's: It's not well done, you may be sick your selves, Before you die; want one to bid God comfort, When I am dead. You Sir, do'e hear? they say you'll put Poison in my drink; do, do, plot on, and be A politic fool, I see into your thoughts, My eye-sight's clear, thank heaven, and yet l've lived A long long while. Some ere this would have used spectacles, but I Must suffer all. Look you, now I think on't, I've a fine devise Come in my head, what think you of a play? We'll act a play, a tragedy, wilt not be well? We'll have a King in't, and he, (do'e understand?) he shall be Killed, methinks you'd act it handsomely. No matter though, Ferrando, now I consider better on't, you shall not, you'd not do it well; do't to'th life, I'll not give a pin for't else: let me alone for one, I'de act that same Kings daughter, I can command a tear or two: if needs be, perhaps a sighs; if 'twere to rave, or grow stark mad, I should learn too: alas these plays are pretty morals of our lives; fine, harmless, innocent sports. Thou Sylvio? — th'art a pretty boy, but that thou weepest so much; I fear th'ast spoiled thy face; with a little paint 'twould serve turn: thou shalt act some Lady in disguise. One that has been in love. Why? Come, thou shalt not then; thou shalt be my page still. Yes, and shall be so till I am dead; say nothing Sylvio, I'll steal away from them, when they shall not know of't. Ferrando, you will see it done? See us both buried, laid by my Father, he was a good, good King: built us a tomb as lasting as our names. There, let us both be cut in spotless marble, It never shall upbraid us, we were innocent as that; But innocence is no guard, it could not keep The tyrant out: my father's, let his be cut Just as he fell, make a sword pierce his heart, And let it bleed too, yet don't hurt the Statua, I would not have you wound it, when it's Like My Father, Like a King, lest he that do's it, Learn thence to be a traitor, and in time Wound you so too, Ferrando. Pray why do'e weep? we shall all sleep quietly When we are dead, there is no noise of chains, We shall not dream of prisons, racks or whips: But every night shall see the Gods descend On our soft slumbers, and kiss away our Misery's. Ladies, you'll see me shrouded decently, When I am dead, down in the mead you, where Grim Pluto stole his Proserpine, are still The flowers she scattered: go, bring they hither, And strew me over with they; she was a virgin chased, And I have herd that flowers of their gathering, Will never die; quickly make hast, it's said we're very noisome after death, I would not Offend then, cause I can't ask forgiveness: Before I die I'll break my heart, and give A piece to every one to wear in's bosom, And you shall have it whole, Ferrando: pray Use it as you would her you loved, while I To quit these Misery's will go pray, and die. Or smile upon this hasty Union: For more sorrows; pray let's back, this day (There's something whispers to me) will prove fatal. Blame not my pious thrift, I shed them for't; Thither my journey tends, I shortly shall arrive there. These rites, (If we may credit what our dreams foretell,) Will turn to funeral obsequies, for such This morning, (when your careful art had bound My senses up.) fancy presented they. Methought I saw, Aurora from the East come weeping up, Wrapped in nights sables, and the following day Paced slowly on, in griefs sad livery; The pensive winds sighed forth a solemn dirge, And strove to blow our marriage tapers out; When you Ʋ rsini joined in the solemnity, I saw you look, Like Sicily's pale ghost, Broke from the hollow Caverns of the earth; This hand Ferrando, at each gentle touch Mouldered to ashes; on your lip there sat A frost, which when I tasted straight conveyed And icy chilnesse through every joint; The stammering Priest methought mistook the rites, And stead of those are used at nuptials, Sung a short requiem to our souls, committed All that was left of us, to the earth, our last Cold bed. No, no Ferrando; I've sinned against my father's ghost; ere yet His royal corpse had slept two silent Moons I'th' peaceful earth, or ere I had paid down Just tribute of my tears, I've changed my sables For a gay nuptial garment, whose light outside Denotes the looseness of a lighter mind, To which grief should have been perpetual guest. Canst thou Ferrando then repent? Oh take me to thy soul, we'll mingle sighs, And tears, which still shall flow together from us, As if the motion were but one; and those So frequent, that the stones, which cloth his dust, Shall soften into turf, from whence shall spring A bed of flowers, creeping about the grave, As if they strew themselves upon him, then Whither, that men might think we wept for them. Take pity on me courteous death! My thoughts are grown more terrible then thou! I am monstrous, a prodigy in nature, one with Him, that was my father's murderer. Yet you might have spared His life, and made it your just praise, that you Could conquer, and not kill: I cannot yield So far to reason, but I still must look Upon you, as and enemy to Sicily; As him that killed my father, and so hate you; Yet I must love you too: when first we met Together in your Tent, both armed (you know) I would have fought, nay, and have killed you too, (Could skill or strength have done it, some I had Of both;) yet I meant not to survive you, Nor should I need to-have made another wound To let mine own life out, l'de died with yours. Ladies, pray absent your selves a while; — — With child? impudent whore! to what cursed lump Have thy sins swollen thee? Hence ingrate wretch! that hast abused my favours So far, till thou hast made a sin of charity: — Would! dost weep? — My rare dissembler! those tears which art hath taught To flow, carry more sinful cunning in they, Then those the flattering Sire's wear upon Their cheeks, when they court man to ruin: Yet tell me ere you go, whom have those looks Beguiled, and trained into your sinful arms. Yes, Like enough, a tale as sad, and dismal As that of Troy, and as much truth in't too! Quickly, dispatch, before my anger prove Too masculine!—and be modest in'th relation. Undone I do! but why This tedious circumstance? it do's involve Your gilded. What? Alberto is daughter? He was in Actium bold, and valiant! However fortune wrought him this disgrace; Proceed, trust me I now begin to pity thee. Nay, prithee tell me, come, and I'll weep with thee. Is there ought in't concerns me? Nay, then I must, and will have all the story, Or think thee a foul prostitute. Come, come, I know thou wilt tell truth! How I fear Whither this story tends? Would! what of him? Be sudden, or, I swear by my just anger, I'll straight rip up the cradle of thy lust, The den where all thy lose adultery's Were acted; search each corner of thy womb. That keeps a record of thy villanyes! More lying then that evil Genius That wrought the first men fallen! Thou rebel passion jealousy! what meanest thou To tumult in my breast?—would! yet why not? Why may not he be false? T'is so!— Felicia! —she's gone, she's gone! Help there, Florinda! Violetta! Ladies! So—she begins to breath;—look up Felicia! Here,—a medal? this confirms it; Ferrando and Felicia! No; I know all, Ferrando's false, as stained with sin, and perjury As howling-Ghosts. Yes all hell Is there at work contriving a revenge; No matter whom;—But tell me How, and with what false oaths, he wone thee first To his lose sheets. I do: Let's sir, and hear it all. You condescended? But how camest thou to Court in Sicily? Thou toldest another story then: But why Felicia Didst not disclose thy self before this time, Now things are grown so bade? Alas! thy piety has undone us both! We'll fit, and descant on our Misery's, Count the extent of each, proportion tears, And sighs unto them. Has robbed me of a father cruel Tyrant, O me! I'm surprised. Lend me my sword — and be thou what thou wilt I dare thee to thy worst. Dare none of you fight? No, I'm your Prince's murthresse. Thou wilt be damned: Felicia! Sad Lady she entreated This night's exchange of place; that she might show him What and untimely mother he had made her, And this 'twas caused my flight, This agrees right with her relation: villain thou haste undone me. Rage chokes my utterance: — give me your fword. —Roar, and curse heavens, But they too have forgotten to punish sinners, And reward virtue, here's and example on't; We were both virtuous, and deserved not this Bade usage; let me embrace thee: — Cold as the earth he lies on, and as dull too: Where is the soul, that busy flame that lent Him life and motion? affected such vain pomp And glorious noise: whither is't fled? poor liveless trunk, It was unkindly done to leave thee thus, A prey to worms and rottenness. Kind death th'art welcome; I kiss thy dart. Bereaved me of my friends, and loving Subject's, Taken away all my honours, and my dower. Has mocked me with the title of a Queen. —But I am lost in Passion. Felicia come, and as our wrongs are equal, So let our revenge be; we'll hand in hand Assault this Tyrant; and in bloody Characters Print on his body the story of our sufferings: What though, wronged innocence? In death it will entitle us to honours; And though our bodies moulder to corruption, Our better partly shall survive fame; our names, Free from decay, shall swell up numerous volumes; Whilst our sad legends shall be made a pillow, To every sleeping virgin. For thy sake I could spare him, but my wrongs Fit heavy here, and urge me to revenge. Speak it (gentle soul.) Content, — I'll in, and haste me to be gone, To go there is some hope. How my fears betray me! shunning One toil, I run into another. ( Valenzo! my voice betrays me.) I've killed your King: will none Dispatch me yet? Villains, cowards, To curse thee false and perjured. Heaven! I bless your justice: Stern tyrant! that triumphest over the memory Of my father, mockest me with love, Till Like a fool I doted on my fetters, Because they were golden ones, that thus Thy devilish art might make my soul a captive, With my body. Yet then a Lady mourned thy perjured vows. Whom thou betrayd'st to lose adultery. Truer it is, and darest thou yet dissemble it? It's a truth precious to time, who will preserv't To blast thy memory, and derive a stain On all thy successors. Felicia told me all her self Confirmed it by religious oaths; beside This medal which she gave me from her neck, A pledge of his broke faith, with the sad fruits Of his sat lust, within her womb. Would! murdered. And yet Felicia wronged? Supposed! she swore 'twas he. Then you conclude Ferrando innocent But how came it to pass she never descried you? I'll be and age in killing thee, dost tremble? Thou lookest Like one of those thin frozen ghosts, That chattering lie on hills of thicke-ribb'd Ice, Come meet my fury. I: I'll dig it out, And cast it to the hungry fiends. Take your sword.— Take it I say. Manag't with skill and strength, or thou affront'st My honour,—fainthearted! coward, I'll follow thee to hell. It's poor revenge this, can he not live again? Start up from earth with life, and double strength? Were't centupled I'de meet him: —but o my eyes! Look here Valenzo: which is Prince, which subject, Which is my loved Ferrando? I see there is No ceremonious state, no pomp in death; They all lie level, all quiet, the bade as well As the good, why should this traitor here This devilish arch, arch-traytour lie as silent As his Lord? should he not stare, and foam, Start up and howl, till he wakes all the dead? Spite of our stars, and all rude opposition, We are one in death: Valenzo see us interred, Both in one tomb, that we may mingle ashes And be securely lodged, you know our souls Were one; our hearts were long united. Draw, draw the curtains there, my love and I Must sleep; — uncivil I protest, put out the lights, We shall sleep best i'th dark; pray don't disturb us, You may fright him from mine arms, —but — I'll — hold — him — fast. Methinks we two now seem to be set copies Of griefs, to which wronged virgins will repair, To take out patterns by. Then you are cowards, they speak you so i'th City, And I came out thus purposely to try you. Ʋ rsini dead. would! whom have we here, Frederico,