LEUCIPPUS

It well done Sister. Why, whats the matter? If I do offend thee; I can be gone, And though I love thy sighed, so highly do I prize thine own content, that I will leave thee. Nay, you may stay now; You should have gone before: I know not now Why I should fear you: All I should have kept. Is stolen: Nor is it in the power of man To rob me farther: if you can invent Spare not; No naked man fears robbing less Then you do: now you may for ever stay. And passed my will to act: but trust me I could do it. Come weepeno more. I wrought thee to it, it was my fault: Nay, see if thou wilt leave? Here, take this pearl, Kiss me sweet Bacha, and receiuet this purse. Is't possible! we men are children in our Carriages, compared with women: wake thy self For shame, and leave not her whose honour thou Shouldst keep safe as thine own, alone to free her self: But I am pressed I know not how, with gilded, And feel my conscience (never used to lie) Loath to allow my tongue to add a lie To that too much I did: but it is lawful To defend her, that only for my love loved evil. Have you done prating yet? If any of thy great, Great-grandmothers This thousand years, had been as chaste as she, It would have made thee honester. I stayed To hear what you would say: she is by heaven Of the most strict and blameless chastity That ever woman was: (good gods forgive me) Had Tarquin met with her, she had been killed With a Slave by her ere she had agreed: I lie with her! would I might perish then. Our Mother's, whom we all must reverence, Could never exceed her for her chastity, Upon my soul: for by this light she's A most obstinate modest creature. I'll tell you Sir: You see she's beautiful. Moved by her face, I came with lustful thoughts, Which was a fault in me: But telling ttuth, something more pardonable, (And for the world I will not lie to you:) Proud of my self, I thought a Princes name Had power to blow'em down flat of their backs; But here I found a Rock not to be shook: For as I hope for good Sir, all the battery That I could lay to her, or of my person, My greatness, or gold, could nothing move her. She's almost thirty Sir. She told it me her self Once when she went about to show by reason I should leave wooing her. If I had sinned with her, I would be loath To publish her disgrace: but by my life I would have told it you, because I think You would have pardoned me the rather: And I will tell you father: By this light Sir, (But that I never will bestow my self But to your liking) it she now would have me, I now would marry her. Sir, will you pardon me one fault, which yet I have not done, but had a will to do, and I will tell it? I offered marriage to her. With that earnestness, and almost scorn To think of any other after her lost Mate, that she Made me think my self unworthy of her. Yes Sir, forgive me heaven, what multitudes Of oaths have I bestowed on lies, and yet they were officious lies, there was no malice in they. No, but with a truth. Thou knowest I have told thee all. Thats much, but not the most. I'll weight on them. My good Ismenus, hold me by the wrist: And if thou seest me fainting, wring me hard, For I shall soon again else — No, you are my Mother. Madame I will serve you As shall become me. Oh dissembling woman! Whom I must reverence though Take from thy Quiver, suer-aymd Apollo, one of thy swift darts, Headed with thy consuming golden beams, And let it melt this body into missed, That none may find it. What will she say now? Bless me I should urge you? If you know how far It were from me, you would not urge and Oath, But for your satistaction, when I tempt you. Dance Madame. I canot dance Madam. I am as my Fortune's bid me. Do not you see me sour? Yes. And why think you I smile? I am so far from any joy my self, I cannot fancy a cause of mirth. Alone. Bac. Yes. 'Tis true, what then? We should pray to Heaven for mercy. I dare not think I understand you. Kiss you? Nothing. 'Tis your will Heaven: but let me bear me Like My self, how ever she does. All you have nam'de, but making of me sin With you, you may command, but never that; Say what you will, I'll hear you as becomes me, If you speak, I will not follow your counsel, Neither will I tell the world to your disgrace, But give you the joust honour That is endue from me to my Father's wife. And thus she has used me, is't not a good mother? He's here Ismenus. Sir. What! Why do you use me thus? who is't can think That I would kill my father, that can yet For bear to kill you? Here sir is my sword, I dare not touch it, lest she say again I would have killed you: let me not have mercy When I most need it, if I would not change Place with my meanest servant. Let these faults Be mended Madame: if you saw how ill They did become you, you would partly with them. How am I made; that I can bear all this? If any one had used a friend of mine never this, My hand had carried death about it. Oh that we did my wickedness has brought All this to pass, else I should bear my self. But I have found A kind of love in her to me: alas, Think of her death; I dare be sworn for her, She is as free from any hate to me As her bade mother's full. She was brought up 7that Country, as her tongue will let you know If you but talk with her, with a poor Uncle, Such as her mother had. Farewell good Sister, I thank you. Yes; So I will, if he can show me as apparent signs Of truth as she did; Does he weep Ismenus? Yes Ismenus, why? You are to blame: I pardon thee. Nay then I see 'tis spite: Come hither friend. Hast thou not herd the cause yet that ince ̄ sd my more there to my death, for I protest I feel none in my self? Heavens defend me as I am innocent, And ever have been from all immoderate thoughts and Actions, that carry such rewards along with em. So much of man, and so much fearful; fie, prithee have peace within thee: I shall live yet many a golden day to hold thee here dearest and nearest to me: Go on Timantus. I charge you by your love no more, no more. Good friends go home again, there's not a man shall go with me. Ismenus I will take the wariest courses that I can think of to defend my self, but not offend. Thou knowest I can escape now, thats all I look for: I'll leave. To what end should keep em? I am free. Should I therefore make my selse one? Well, pardon Ismenus, for I know My courses are most joust; nor will I stain em With one bade Actium: for thy self, thou knowest, That though I may command thee, I shall be A ready servant to thee if thou needest: and so I'll Take my leave. Of thee. Shall I not? Nay prithee good Ismenus partly with me. This is and ill time to be thus unruly: Ismenus you must leave me. But why wilt not leave me? But show me one. Why if thou wilt not do't, I think thou darest not. Well fir, if you dare, let me see you do't. Why God a mercy. Now take these few directions: farewell, send to me by the wariest ways thou canst: I have a soul tells me we shall meet often. The gods protect thee. Alas poor boy, why dost thou follow me? What canst thou hope for? I am poor as thou art. Such harmless souls are ever Prophets, well I take thy wish, thou shalt be with me still: But pri thee eat, then my good Boy: Thou wilt die my child If thou fasts one day more. This four days thou hast tasted nothing: Go into the Cave and eat: Thou shalt find something for thee, to bring thy blood a gen, and thy fair colour. Indeed I will. This is the prettiest passion that ere I felt yet: why dost you look so earnestly upon me? Sure the Boy dotes: why dost thou sighs my child? Thou wilt love me? And I'll come to thee Boy. This is a love I never yet herd tell of: come, thou art sleepy child, go in; and I'll fit with thee: heaven what portends this? If thou wilt good Boy. Alas my boy, that thou shouldst comfort me, and art far worse then I: What art thou, that in this dismal place, Which nothing could find out but misery, Thus boldly stepped? Comfort was never here, Here is nor food, nor beds, nor any house Built by a better Architect then beasts; And ere you get dwelling from one of them, You must fight for it: if you conquer him, He is your meat; if not, you must be his. Now I feel my self the poorest of all mortal things. Where is he that receives such courtesies, But he has means to show his gratefulness Some way or other? I have none at all: I know not how to speak so much as well Of thee but to these trees. How dost thou my child? alas, look on his, it may make thee repentant, to behold those innocent drops that thou hast drawn from thence. How couldst thou find me out? Stand up Timantus boldly, The world conceives that thou art guilty Of diverse treasons to the State and me: But o far be it from the innocence Of a joust man to give a traitor death Without a trial: here thy Country is not To purge thee or condemn thee; therefore A nobler trial then thou dost deserve, Rather then none at all, here I accuse thee Before the face of heaven, to be a traitor Both to the Duke my father and to me, and the Whole Land: speak, is it so or no? Take heed Timantus how thou dost cast away thy self, I must proceed to execution hastily if thou confess it: speak once again, is't so or no? Gods and thy sword acquit thee, here it is. At thy peril then, for this must be thy trial: and from hence forth look to thy self. Up, up again Timantus, There is no way but this believe me. Now if — Fie, fie Timantus, is there no Usage can recover thee from baseness? Wertenberg thou Longer to converse with men, I would have chid Thee for this: be all thy faults for given. I think thou art not; yet trust me, fitter then for life: Yet tell me ere my breath be gone, knowest of any other plots against me? What course wouldst thou have taken when thou hadst killed me? What Page? Is he fallen mad in death, what does he mean? Some good God help me at the worst: how dost thou? Let not thy misery vex me, thou shalt have What thy poor heart can wish: I am a Prince. And I will keep thee in the gayest clothes, And the finest things, that ever pretty boy had given him. I prithee mind thy health: why thats well said my good boy, smile still. How! Dulness did cease me, now I know thee well; Alas why camest thou hither? I will love thee, or any thing: what? wilt Thou leave me as soon as I know thee? Speak one word to me: alas she's passed it, She will never speak more. What noise is that? it is no matter who Comes on me now. What worse then mad are you That seek out sorrows? if you love delights Be gone from hence. Leave her to heaven brave Cousin, they shall tell her how she has sind against em, my hand shall ne ver be stained with such base blood: live wicked More there, that reverent title be your pardon, for I will use no extremity against you, but leave you to heaven. Would you had love within you, and such Grief as might become a Mother: look you there, Know you that face, that was Urania: These are the fruits of those unhappy Mother's, That labour with such horrid byrths as you do: If you can weep, theres cause; poor innocent, Your wickedness has killed her: I'll weep for you. Here lies your Minion too, slain by my hand, I will not say you are the cause: yet certain, I know you were too blame, the Gods forgive you. Ismenus, thou art welcome yet to my sad come pany. You cannot, I am at the height already. I thought so, heaven be with him: o woman, woman, weep now or never, thou hast made more sorrows then we have eyes to utter. Ho. Nearer my health, then I think any here, my tongue begins to falter: what is man? or who would be one, when he sees a poor weak woman can in and instant make him none. Let not a man stir, for I am but dead: I have some few words which I would have you heart, And am afraid I shall want breath to speak em: First to you my Lords, You know Ismenus is Undoubtedly heir of Licia, I do beseech you all, When I am dead to show your duties to him. I thank you. Next to you Cozen Ismenus, that shall be the Duke, I pray you let the broken Image of Cupid Be reedified, I know all this is done by him. Last, I beseech you that my Mother-in-Law may have a burial according to — Dies. Dry thine eyes again, I'll kiss thy tears away, This is but follic, 'tis passed all help. Why, I could do thee farther wrong. I could tell the world what thou hast done. Why dost thou think me so base to tell? These limbs of mine shall partly From one another on a wrack, Ere I disclose; But thou dost utter words That much afflict me: you did seem as ready Sweet Bacha as my self. Alas good Bacha, take one, I pray thee where thou wilt. Fare thee well mine own good Bacha; I will make all haste. You do her wrong Sir. stay here so long? If I can urge ought from me but a truth, hell Take me. Pinch harder. Pray leave this wicked talk, You do not know to what my Father's wrong May urge me. They that can answer must be less amazed, Then I am now: you see my tears deliver My meaning to you. You are a strumpet. Trust me, so am I of my self too: Madame, I'll take my leave; gods set all right. The Gods forbid it. What is the matter! Oh strange carriages! Sir, As I have hope that there is any thing To reward doing well, my usages Which have been (but 'tis no matter what) Have put me so far from the thought of Greatness, That I should welcome it Like a disease That grew upon me, and I could not cure. They are my enemies that gave you this, And yet they call me friend, and are themselves I fear abused. I am weary of my life, For Gods sake take it from me: it creates More mischief in the State then it is worth. The usage I have had, I know would make Wisdom her self run frantic through the streets. And Patience quarrel with her shadow. Sir, this sword — What? what did you tell him? Away, the whole Court calls her virtuous; for they say, she is unlike her mother and if so she can have no vice. Sister, how do you. Fie, fie, Ismenus for shame, mock such and innocent soul as this. I should hate my self Ismenus; If I should think of her simplicity, Ought but extremely well. Well speak on. Whats your business? Why shouldst thou think so? Now Ismenus, what think you of this fellow? This was a lying knave, a flatterer, Does not this love still show him so. Sir hear me. What ever Fortune comes, I bid it welcome, My innocence is my Armour: Gods preserve you. All that love me depart: I thank you, and will serve you for your loves: But I will thank you more to suffer me To govern em once: more, I do beg ye, For my sake to your houses. Thow't be dead by that time. 'Tis a truth: that takes my sleep away, but Would to Heaven, if it had so been pleased, you had Refused him, though I had gratified that courtesy With having you my self: But since 'tis thus, I do beseech you that you will be honest From henceforth, and not abuse his credulous Age, Which you may easily do. As for my self What I can say you know alas too well Is tied within me, here it will fit Like led, But shall offend no other, it will pluck me Back from my entrance into any mirth, As if a servant came, and whispered with me Of some Friends death, but I will bear my self, To you, with all the endue obedience A son owes to a Mother: more then this, Is not in me, but I must leave the rest to the Just gods: who in their blessed time, When they have given me punishment enough, For my rash sin, will mercifully find As unexpected means to ease my grief As they did now to bring it. I appeal to you still, and for ever, that are And cannot be other, Madame I see 'tis in your power To work your will on him: And I desire you To lay what trains you will for my wished death, But suffer him to find his quiet graven In peace; Alas he never did you wrong, And further I beseech you pardon me, For the ill word I gave you, for how ever You may deserve, it became not me To call you so, but passion urges me I know not whither my heart break now, & ease me ever. But 'tis not reason directs thee thus. Oh thou art vain, thou knowest I do not love her: What shall I do? I would my tongue had led me To any other thing, but Blasphemy, So I had missed commending of this woman, Whom I must reverence now, she is my mother; My fin Ismenus has wrought all this ill: And I beseech thee, to be warned by me, And do not lie, if any man should ask thee But How thou dost, or, What a clock 'tis now, Be sure thou do not lie, make no excuse For him that is most near thee: never let The most officious falsehood escape thy tongue, For they above (that are entirely truth) Will make that seed, which thou hait fowne Of lies, yield Misery's a thousand sold Upon thine head, as they have done of mine. Pray gods I may. Lets walk & change out subject. I allow his virtues: but 'tis not handsome thus to feed my self with such moderate praises of mine own. You have laid out words enough upon ̄ a subject. Peace, peace for shame, thy love is too suspicious, 'tis away offered to preserve my life, and I will take it: be my Guide Timantus, and do not mind this angry man, thou knowest him: I may live to requite thee. Why dost thou choose out me boy to undo thee? Alas, for pity take another Master, That may be able to deserve thy love In breeding thee hereafter: me thou knowest not More then my misery: and therefore canst not Look for rewards at my hands: would I were able, My pretty knave, to do thee any kindness: truly Good boy, I would upon my faith thy harmelesle Innocense moves me at heart, wilt thou go Save thy self, why dost thou weep? Alas I do not chide thee. All thy dissembling will never hide thy shame: And Wertenberg not more respecting Womanhood in General, then any thing in thee, thou shouldst Be made such and example, that posterity, When they would speak most bitterly, should say, Thou art as impudent as Bacha was. I know you wish it with your heart dear sister, but she is good I hope. But I will tell thee one why thou shouldst stay: I have not one friend in the Court but thou, On whom I may be bold to trust to send me Any intelligence: and if thou lovest me Thou wilt do this, thou needest not fear to stay, For there are newcome Proclamations out; Where all are pardoned but my self. What though, thou mayest stay at home with out danger. But stir up thy self; look what a Jewel here is, See how it glisters: what a pretty show Will this make in thy little ear? would, speak, Eat but a bit, and take it. Mighty Sir, I do not wish to know that fatal hour, That is to make me King, but if I do, I shall most hastily (and Like a son) Perform your grants to all, chiefly to her: Remember that you ask what we Agreed upon. There is no such power: But the opinion of him fills the Land With lustful sins: every young man and maid That feel the least desire to one another, Dare not suppress it, for they think it is Blind Cupid's motion: and he is a God. Why keep em to remember me. I must be gone, I have be absent long: I know the Duke my Father is in rage, But I will see thee suddenly again. Farewell my Bacha. Thou knowest I do not speak to thee Ismenus: But what said you Tima. concerning my shamefastness? Tell me how old thou art, my pretty sweet heart? Madame 'tis true, Heaven pardon it. 'Tis passed now. Keep you displeased gods, the endue respect I ought to bear unto this wicked woman, As she is now my Mother, Hast within me, Least I add sins to sins, till no repentance will cure me. A way, away, such and unkind distrust, Is wosse then a dissembling, if it be one, And sooner leads to mischief I believe it, And him and honest man: he could not carry Under and evil cause so true a sorrow. Why.