EUDORA

Oh you are welcome Sir. When begins your serious? There is no charm in't certainly, it pleased me the least of many, no, 'tis your fair Mistress which bears those Love-nets about her, if the Stranger escape her he's safe. Nay then you are cruel, would you have him strong her then your self was? if he be guilty the same doom must light on you too. I was commanded to be ready and attend there. I shall be content to obey either. May I not know the cause? If you know him so, I shall then without Excuse deny his visits, But I think This business may be born a nobler way, Nor will the end fail though the means be fair Leave it with me, if he sue with honour, He will take and honourable answer. Though he gain none from me, I'll get his love, And send him home, no less a friend, than if He were a husband, by my restraint yowl Only gain unto your self the marks of Jealousy and malice, and fouler stains If that the crime were named to the desert. Beside it does proclaim in me too, such A weakness as I am much ashamed of; Had he a face adorned with the graces Of both Sexes, beauty and manliness, And these ingrafted on the body of A God, I could look on, converse, I, and Neglect him too, when I have reason; fear Not me then. Is there then a policy in rudeness? Why don't you rather send a defiance To him, proclaim him enemy; this were Nobler far, than to receive him in your arms And then affront him, say health and wish Poison in the cup, are you so much below him? Pride is ill becoming, and hated by the next proud man. No, where my thanks are too much, I'll rather return gifts for gifts; I would be loath to have my faults reach further than my goodness. They will not prove so, yet he will deserve some as he is a stranger. I do, and shall easily keep that I do not care to break. Must you be gone? If be but a little stay. 'Tis too much to hinder, I see a causeless and a nee lesserage Hid in your breast the Prince may be noble, Valiant, if you receive him then with scorn, He'll prove a stronger enemy than those Unworthy ones you fear at home, whose own Actions daily ruin, and whose ill made Knots will loosen faster than they ty them; You have prevailed with me, I'll not be won To see him now: but let it not appear By your default, and that my retirement Is only in scorn to him, which will be Made plain, if that you change not this face you Have put on, it becomes you at no time; A Prince should always smile or look indifferent, He has no needs of frowns, as other men, All lives are in his breath, and if they do Offend, his revenge is known, and needs not Be declared by face expressions, where ther's Power to punish 'tis tyranny to rage, Anger is no attribute of Justice; 'Tis true, she's painted with a sword, but looks As if she held it not, though war be in Her hand, yet peace dwells in her face; learn once Of me, and when you have no cause of a Distemper, express none; now you have made All sure, doubt not, but receive the Stranger With fearless and confident embraces. Thy subtle plots will ruin thee at last, Valour and policy do seldom meet, Yet here they are in their extremes in one, But do most strangely divide the owner, Makes him dread none, and yet confirms him not Within a guard. Exit. Oh my father! when thou art slain I cannot fear what after does befall me, the same that was their cruelty to thee, will to me be pity. within— Pallantus is herd without, spare no opposition, break the gates, add fire unto your force. A noise is herd as if the gates were broken, and Pallantus, a Captain, and Soldiers, rush in with their swords drawn, and seize upon the Ladies, they give a shriek, and— What stays thee monster, and makes thee pant thusore the prey? here I stand ready and do invite thy fury, come and save my hand a labour, if thou art surfeited I'll whet thy thine appetite. Thou art a Murderer, a villain, These name thee not, nor drawn in the same Table would express thee, such offenders the Magistrates can punish, They are but diseases of the State, thou the death, the Law comprehends them within her virge, thy giant faults do so much overtop her, that justice cannot reach thee. And if there were no gods thou then Wertenberg innocent, and wouldst stand safe because thou art so wicked. Thou hast killed thy King; Oh no, thou hadst no share in him, he was a King of men, thou a beast, the bloodiest in the Forest, yet he was they Sovereign too, the heards were under him, and the wildest knew no other Lord. How monstrous thou appearest, thou represenst un to me all ill I ever herd of. Thou movest Like so many living mischiefs, had the Priests beheld thee, they might have divinde all these future evils so exactly in thy feature, that what they told would rather seem a Story than a Prophecy, and saved us from thee. Nature was never guilty of such a Work, some hellish power hath given the birth, and Spi rit, and sent thee on earth to destroy all that's fair and holy. What next intendest thou? what master-peace of wickedness wilt thou glory in alone? know thou canst not force me, here within thy reach I am as safe as if and army all re solute to death divided us. This hand something weaker than a woman's, can resist all thy strength, were in as great mischief as thy will. Why talkest thou thus? thy tongue hath no more Power than hath thy hands. Why delayest thou? what wouldst thou have? Love? thy thoughts are more mishapen than thy self, even in thy Hope's th'art cruel. This base imagination hath wronged me more than all thy actions, before thou only seekest my ruin, now the ruin of my name, that thou intendest a rape it was a glory to me, and though I had lost it, would have God me same, the honour of a ravished virgin. Didst thou woe me with the greatest services, as thou comest in my father's blood, I could reward thee, but could never yield thee love; I was too long a Princess, and lost the name too late to enter taine so low a thought. Love is soft, and full of courtesy a greater opposite to lust than hate; the flames thou feelest are more preposterous than those which burn the breasts of Satyrs, and of beasts, w changed kill the young and in that blood enjoy the Dam. Thinkest thou that any is so bold in lust to embrace such fears thy love bring with it. My Misery's have put a new nature in me, changed that calmness I had wont enjoy, into the looks and language of a fury: how ill does rage become a virgins breast? I will sup press it, and if it must break forth, dissolve it into tears. And age worn out in thought cannot present one comfort to me, I am so wretched. Her grief and anger make her show signs of fainting. O, my soul's more earthly than my body. This war that is within me, will gain a victory over me. I find decays already. No, and yet there is a way, and thou mayest do it. If thou'lt vow to do it presently. Then— Now thou canst not, thy last words have rendered thee unable. The ease was death, which yet I beg from thee. Assist me all my Strength, the gods this way you have ordained I should come to you, pardon that Fate then which your selves did give me. Ther's a weapon hid within my heart, which none can take away: it wounds deeply. Now Death thou art a lover, and dost court me mildly. My Brother, Oh my Father. Too well, my Strength returns too fast upon me. This quiet we enjoy does strike amazement in me, sure they have slain the body with the head, which makes this general calm. Their piety is too late, nor will it satisfy the gods, when they have spilled so much blood, that they will spill no more. Can a Kingdom fallen, and the ruin not wake the people. This may be true, they who can believe there is a providence, may easily give credit to this Justice, our sins were mightier then our sufferings, and had we a greater debt then life, we ought to pay it, my Misery's are endue to me. I was a party, and enjoyed my Father's violence. How ill these words become thee, and me to hear, thinkest thou my Father's faults can bring a comfort to me. See who it's disturbs us. Who is't? Rodia goes out and returns. Whither wilt thou lose thy self in commendation? in men beauty's the least partly. Call him in, we must endure their pleasures, it will not become our state to deny commands, much less when they entreat. It is my fault you tell me of, and a great share of my grief that thus I stay to grieve. Thou art not he that gave they. Thart strangely altered, if thou be'st he. Thou hadst no cause for all that thou hast done, the faults were general, and concerned not thee, but thou Wertenberg ready, for all ill; as well as goodness. O, Oh. Would? Pallantus? art thou Pallantus ? And to all this villainy is signed Tymeus, couldst thou be thus cruel, thus basely cruel? unworthy brother. This hath made a mercy of all that hath befallen thee, thou dost deserve to have thy punishments outlive thee, to have engraven on thy Tomb, Here lies the treacherous, bloody, and to make thee monstrous, have thy age add to it, The young Timeus, that was subtle in his youth, what remains for me? that happiness the most wretched do enjoy, is taken from me, a worthy cause of grief. Now I can neither live, nor die, without a stain. I know not how to answer. The tongue must be as wicked as the will that did commit they, that can defend such deeds, had equity pointed all your Actions out, given you Rules to work by, told you how much, how far you must have gone, you could not have done more justly, there wants not any thing to crown your judgement but my death, the only issue of that sinful raze. I have a long time loathed my life, and now I loath my self too. I find I know not how, a guiltiness within me, my father's faults flow Like his blood within me. Can any life be noble after such losses? You reward me good for bade, before that I was cer taine of a cause, I slandered your virtues with those names foul deeds deserve, or a worse nature could invent, I falsely did apply to you that which was true in me. You have given me many, more than I did hope, or wish for, and removed those killing doubts within me. I shall remember you no more the cause, but mourner of my father's death. Oh that name of father, how ever thou deservest, thou dost deserve these tears of me. You may there is no danger in't, they were but tears, and are already wiped away. I find hereafter that I may, yet 'tis too soon, Pray excuse me. My father, my brother, why do you fly me? your welcome, and loved shapes. Oh my sad fantasy! The King, what King? o. Return all duty and service to the King. My Comforter. My brother? Oh where? and how? alas it cannot be, why do ye mock my sadness? thus such false Hope's as these make more wretched. Pray stay, I do believe and ask you pardon, but now I am certain of him. I would not at first show any signs of joy, I have thought a way to entertain him, Rodia, fetch the paper that lies within upon the Table, so: now S r , you may admit him. But stay my brother, I knowledge that you say most true, and was no less surprised at first to hear of this your safety, for when I once believed you dead that you were alive again, was a greater good then I could give credit to. But when I consider the cause of my greese and gladness: and found it was merely the name of brother, nay not so much the dishonour of our name only, with tears I threw a way, what with tears I sought for, look on this unwor thy man. Here you are discected, and see if I ought to mourn for any partly being lost, or rejoice for any that safe in the whole Anatomy. Now I meet your love, pardon me my brother, I was to rejoice at this your sadness, before I could share with you in another joy. Yes, he sent before that he would visit me, what will you do? Stay within till he be gone. Did you say this was the King's mercy? S r , admit me to kneel before you, I ought not to stand and equal height with Majesty, and virtue, so much a above me, what undeserving name is endue to me, when you are pleased to call your self and enemy, if you are one, it is to your self, in thus preferring your mercy before your safety, you have given my brother life, to bring your own in danger, and removed my grief, which hereafter may be the cause of it to your self. S r , think me unworthy, but not a scorner, of these favours, were my sorrows heaver. (Thus offered) it but religion to bow, and to receive they, Sir, there is much joy in them, which the softenesse of your words, and not my grief causeth to flow from me. Sir, I think not so, you have deserved better from me, and if I give you not a leave, 'tis because I am loath to have you go, it you confirmed my life, when I thought it not in the power of Art, or heaven to have done it, and that before I made not these large expressions, it because they then became me not, if I had owed less, I would have said more. You may. I will: I will do that that's noble.