ANTHONY

That these my wandering eyes had kept their stay; That I my self had still been Like my self; That my poor heart had never felt the wound, Whose anguish keeps me in a deadly found: O how deluding dreams this night ore-past, Drenched my sad soul in pleasures floating sea! Me thought I clasped my love within my arms, And circling her, saved her from threatening harms; Me thought there came and hundred in and hour That sought to rob me of my sweetest flower: But Like a champion I did keep her still Within this circle, free from every ill: But when I waked and missd my Phillis there, All my sweet joys converted into fear. How, blind? I would it were as blind as Ebon night, That love had never hit my heart so right; But what is love in your opinion? Thus may the freeman jest at manacles, The furre-clad citizen laugh at a storm, The swarty More diving to gather pearl, Challenge the scalding ardor of the sun; And aged Nestor sitting in his tent, May term wounds sport, & war but merriment. That thou wilt pity me, Yonder she comes that holds me prisoner. O, for to hear that comfort I do long, I'll turn it to a strain to right my wrong. I am that brother rival in his love, I am that brother hates him for his love: Not his but mine, and I will have that love, Or never live to see him kiss my love; What thou erst said, I am that man alone, That will depose you brother from loves throne; I am that man, though you my elder be, That will aspire beyond you one degree. So, he is gone, I scarcely trust him neither; For 'tis his custom, Like a sneaking fool, To fetch a compass of a mile about, And creep where he would be; well, let him pass, I herd him say, that since by word of mouth He could not purchase his sweet mistress favour, He would endeavour what his wit might do By writing, and by tokens; Oh 'tis good Writing with ink; Oh no, but with his blood. Well, so much for that, now I know his mind I do intend not to be far behind: Heel send a letter, I will write another, Do what you can, isle be before you brother; I'll intercept his letter by the way, And as time serves, the same I will bewray: Mine being made, a Porter I'll procure, That shall convey that heart-enticing lure; About it then, my letter shall be writ, Though not with blood, yet with a reaching wit. Exit. Canst thou be trusty then, and secret too, Being employed in weighty business? Then mark me well, in Cornhill by th'Exchange, Dwells and old Merchant, Flower they call his name, He hath one only daughter, to whose hands, If thou conveniently canst give this letter, I'll pay thee well, make thee the happiest Porter That ever undertook such business. Anthony Golding is my name, my friend, About it then, thy message being done, Make haste to me again, till when, I leave thee. Exit. Porter, what news? spoke you with Phillis ? Zounds am I mad, or is she mad that writ this? I'll read it over again: A Letter. Sir, I did never Like you, I do not now think well of you, And I will never love you: I choose my husband with my eyes, and I have seen some especial fault in you; as the continued lour of your hair, the elevating of your head, to and affected proportion, as if you fainted for want of air, and stood in that manner to suck it into your nose, your neck is too long: and to be short, I Like no partly in or about you: and the short and the long boy, is, that I will never love you, and I will ne ver marry but one I love. Not yours, but her own. Sir, I did never Like you, I do not now think well of you, And I will never love you: I choose my husband with my eyes, and I have seen some especial fault in you; as the continued lour of your hair, the elevating of your head, to and affected proportion, as if you fainted for want of air, and stood in that manner to suck it into your nose, your neck is too long: and to be short, I Like no partly in or about you: and the short and the long boy, is, that I will never love you, and I will ne ver marry but one I love. Frank, I will love thee, while I live for this. Sir, I had letters from my factors there Some three days since; but the return of one, aside. Of one poor letter, yet not answered, Makes me stark mad: a plague upon that Porter, Damned may he be for thus deluding me. How now brother, why retire you so? Of your acquaintance; is she so good brother? Only with you acquainted, and no other? Faith isle try that, take heed sir what you do. If you begin to court, I needs must woe, Go to her too. Brother have you done? You have done. Then by your leave brother, You had one word, I must have another. Talk in private. That villaiue Porter hath deluded me, Confusion guerdon his base villain. At it so hard brother; well, woe apace, A while I am content to give you place. What, male content? is Ferdinand struck dead, Fortune be blithe, and aid the second brother. A spectacle worse then death. A plague upon that Porter; if ere I meet him, My rapiers point with a death's wound shall greet him. Exit. I come for yours, your daughter I do mean. By heaven, nor I. And so will I. Catch that catch can, then brother's both you lie. I life and love. Stay brother Ferdinand, isle follow thee, Farewell all love, 'tis full of treachery. Exit. Now he is gone, and we in private talk, Say, wilt thou grant me love, wilt thou be mine? For all the interest in my love is thine. I, is my brother my competitor? I'll court my love and will solicit thee, Were Ferdinand himself in company. What sayest thou to my suit? What? is my brother Ferdinand so near? He is my elder, I must needs give place; Anthony, stand by, and list what he does say, Haste calls me hence, yet I will brook delay. Yet subtle Fox, I may perchance to cross you: Brother, well met; whither away so fast? 'Tis well done brother, you seek still for gain. Within the centre of this paper square, Have I wrote down in bloody characters, A pretty poesy of a wounded heart, Such is loves force once burst into a flame, Do what we can we cannot quench the same, Unless the tears of pity move compassion, And so quench out the fire of affection, Whose burning force heats me in every vain, That I to Love for safety must complain: This is my Orator whose dulcet tongue Must plead my love to beauteous Phillis. Now for a trusty messenger to be Employed herein betwixt my love and me, And in good time I see a Porter nigh, Come hither fellow, dwellest thou here about? Blank, I am struck blank, and blind, and mad withal, Here is a flat denial to my suit, A resolution never to be won: What shall I do? assist me God of love, Instruct me in thy school-tricks; be my guide Out of this labyrinth of love and fear, Unto the palace of fair Phillis favour: I have it; I will intimate her mother In my behalf, with letters and with gifts, To her isle write to be my advocate: Porter farewell, ther's for thy pains, Thy profit by this toil passes my gains. Exit. Oh love, that I had never known thy power. Golding I am, and thine sweet fair I am, And yet not thine, but a most wretched man, Thou knowest my cause of grief, my wound of woe: And knowing it, why wilt thou see it so? Put salves of comfort to my griefs unrest, So mayest thou heal my soar of heaviness. At your direction: no, this merry glee, (Good brother) sorts not with my melancholy, Love covets private conference, so my sorrow, Craveth your absence which I feign would borrow. Let it be so; If that my brother's hindrance be all, I'll have thy love though by my brother's fallen. Exit So cunningly, that none of us could know. Thy life and love.