LEOSTHENES

Good Timagorus When I have said my friend; think all is spoken That may assure me yours; and pray you believe The dreadful voice of war that shakes the City, The thundering threats of Carthage ; nor their Army Raised to make good those threats, affright not me. If fair Cleora were confirmed his prize, That has the strongest Arm, and sharpest Sword, I would court Bellona in her Horrid-trime, As if she were a Mistress, and bless Fortune That offers my young valour to the proof, How much I dare do for your Sisters love. But when that I consider how averse Your noble Father great Archidamus ; Is, and hath ever been to my desires: Reason may warrant me to doubt and fear: What seeds soever I sow in this wars Of Noble courage, his determinate will May blast, and give my harvest to another That never toiled for it. This Slave has a strange aspect. Who Commands The Carthaginian Fleet? No more of him, the motiue's That Corinth gives us aid: I am satisfied. What think you of our General? I'll follow you. Exeunt. And will be still remembered to your honour If you forsake not us. Sharp. And to the purpose. The blood turns. Were she Deformed The virtues of her mind would force a Stoicque To sue to be her servant. I am for the journey. Your servant Sir. Sir, what you please. Say we grant this, For if we should deny it, you'll not believe us, What will you infer upon it? 'Tis a noble favour, For which, I ever owe you, we are alone, But how I should begin, or in what language Speak the unwilling word, of parting from you, I am yet to learn. Yet it must be spoken, Or you will chide my slackness, you have fired me With the heat of noble Actium, to deserve you, And the least spark of honour, that took life From your sweet breath, still famed by it, and cherished, Must Mount up in a glorious flame, or I Am much unworthy. 'Tis a happiness, My duty to my Country, and mine Honour Cannot consent too, beside, add to these, It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion, And strength of reason, for the general good, That I should go. I'll stay at home then. Sweet, take comfort, And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me, Or I am wretched; all the dangers, that I can encounter in the War, and trifles; My enemies abroad to be contemned; The dreadful foes, that have the power to hurt me, I leave at home with you. Nay, in you, On every partly about you, they are armed To fight against me. Ther's no perfection That you are Mistress of, but musters up A Legion against me, and all sworn To my destruction. But true, sweet, Excess of love can work such miracles. Upon this Ivory forehead are entrenched Ten thousand rivals, and these Suns command, Supplies from all the world, on pain to forfeit Their comfortable beams; these Ruby lips, A rich Exchequer to assure their pay; This hand, Sibillas golden bough to guard them Through Hell, and horror, to the Elysian Springs; Which who'll not venture for? and should I name Such as the virtues of your mind invite, Their numbers would be infinite. You were never proved. For me I have conversed with you no farther, Then would become a Brother. I never tuned Lose Notes to your chaste ears; or brought rich Presents For my Artillery, to batter down, The fortress of your honour, nor endeavoured To make your blood run high at solemn Feasts With Viands, that provoke; (the speeding Philtres) I worked no Bawds to tempt you; never practised The cunning, and corrupting Arts they study, That wander in the wild Maze of desire; Honest simplicity, and Truth were all The Agents I employed, and when I came To see you, it was with that reverence, As I beheld the Altars of the gods; And love, that came along with me, was taught To leave his Arrows, and his Torch behind, Quenched in my fear to give offence. But, Cleora, When I am absent, as I must go from you, (such is the cruelty of my fate) and leave you Unguarded, to the violent assaults Of lose temptations; when the memory Of my so many years of Love, and service, Is lost in other objects; when you are courted By such as keep a Catalogue of their Conquests, Won upon credulous Virgins; when nor Father Is here to owe you; Brother to advise you; Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off, By lust instructed how to undermine, And blow your chastity up; when your weak senses At once assaulted, shall conspire against you; And play the traitors to your soul, your virtue: How can you stand? in-faith though you fallen, and I The judge, before whom you then stood accused, I should acquit you. What will you do? Would! Kneels. Oh blessed office! Never did Galleyslave shake off his chains, Or looked on his redemption from the Oar, With such true feeling of delight, as now I find my self possessed of; now I behold True light indeed; For since these fairest stars, (Covered with clouds of your determinate will) Denied their influence to my optic sense, The Splendour of the Sun appeared to me, But as some little glimpse of his bright beams Coveyed into a Dungeon; to remember The dark inhabitants there, how much they wanted. Open these long-shut lips, and strike mine ears With Music more harmonious, then the Spheres Yield in their heavenly motions; And if ever A true submission, for a crime acknowledged, May find a gracious hearing, teach your tongue In the first sweet, articulate sounds, it utters To sign my wished-for pardon. How greedily I receive this? Stay, best Lady, And let me by degrees ascend the height Of humane happiness; All at once delivered, The torrent of my joys will overwhelm me; So, now a little more; And pray excuse me, If Like a wanton Epicure I desire, The pleasant taste these cates of comfort yield me, should not too soon be swallowed. Have you not (By your unspotted truth, I do conjure you To answer truly) suffered in your honour: (By force, I mean, for in your will I free you) Since I left Syracyse ? Miracle of virtue! One pause more, I beseech you, I am Like A man, whose vital spirits consumed, and wasted With a long and tedious Fever, unto whom Too much of a strong Cordial at once taken Brings death, and not restores him. Yet I cannot Fix here: but must inquire the man, to whom I stand indebted for a benefit, Which to requite at full, though in this hand I grasped all Sceptres the world's Empire bow to, Would leave me a poor Bank'rout; name him, Lady; If of a mean estate, I'll gladly partly with My utmost Fortune's to him; but if noble, In thankful duty study how to serve him; Or if of higher rank, erect him Altars, And (as a God) adore him. You do describe a wonder. Not yours, Lady? A rare tempter! You conceal, still, The owner of these excellencies. Would, would, would! To hear the labouring mountain of your praise Delivered of a Mouse. Do you call, What was his duty, merit? Why Lady, can you Be won to give allowance, that your slave Should dare to love you? You seem moved. One kiss, and I am silenced. Pray you, end, The story does not please me. What a bridge Of glass I walk upon, over a River Of certain ruin: mine own weighty fears Cracking what should support me: And those helps, Which confidence lends to others, are from me Ravished by doubts, and wilful Jealousy. In my thoughts, Sir. Would! I more, then fear. This confirms All she delivered, false. Darest thou presume to name her? He is not worth my thoughts; No corner left In all the spacious rooms of my vexed heart, But is filled with Cleora : And the Rape She has done upon her honour, with my wrong, The heavy burden of my sorrows song. Shall I be a Bawd To her lust, and my dishonour? Oh, the Devil! Has she bewitched him too? Oh my heartstrings! Exeunt Leost. and Timagoras. What and object Have I encountered? But look on me, And be not too indulgent to your folly, And then (but that grief stops my speech) imagine, What language I should use. She's my valours prize. I feel something here, That boldly tells me, all the love and service, I pay Cleora, is another's endue, And therefore cannot prosper. I speak In the way of supposition, and entreat you With all the fervor of a constant lover, That you would free your self from these aspersions, Or any imputation black tongued Slander Could throw on your unspotted virgin-whitenesse; To which there is no easier way, then by Vouchsafing him your favour; him, to whom Next to the General, and the gods, and fautors, The country owes her safety. The Gods first honoured, The glory be the Generals; it's far from me To be his rival. Oh Timagoras, You only are acquainted with the cause, That loads my sad heart with a hill of led. Whose ponderous weight, neither my new God honour, Assisted by the general applause The soldier crowns it with: nor all wars glories Can lessen, or remove; and would you please, With fit consideration to remember, How much I wrong Cleoras innocence, With my rash doubts; and what a grievous penance, She did impose upon her tender sweetness, To pluck away the Vulture jealousy, That fed upon my Liver: you cannot blame me, But call it a fit justice on my self, Though I resolve to be a stranger to The thought of mirth, or pleasure. If those glories You so set forth were mine, they might plead for me; But I can say no claim to the least honour, Which you with foul injustice ravish from her; Her beauty, in me wrought a miracle, Taught me to aim at things beyond my power, Which her perfections purchased, and gave to me From her free bounties; she inspired me with That valour, which I dare not call mine own: And from the fair reflection of her mind, My soul received the sparkling beams of courage. She from the magazine of her proper goodness, Stocked me with virtuous purposes; sent me forth To trade for honour; and she being the owner Of the bark of my adventures, I must yield her A joust account of all, as fits a Factor: And howsoever others think me happy, And cry aloud, I have made a prosperous voyage: One frown of her dislike at my return, (Which, as a punishment for my fault, I look for) Strikes dead all comfort. May it prove so, With her consent, and pardon. We receive A silent entertainment. Oh my prophetic soul! Oh my Cleora! And ruin seize on all, ever we subscribe To such conditions. Scale the Walls, Capitulate after. Friend, to you I leave the disposition of what's mine: I cannot think I am safe without your Sister, She's only worth my thought; and till I see What she has suffered, I am on the rack, And fury's my tormentors. Exeunt. Thou givest it in a heavy tone. Fear's! your sufferings, For which I am so overgone with grief, I dare not ask without compassionate tears, The villains name, that robbed thee of thy honour; For being trained up in chastities cold School, And taught by such a Mistress as Cleora, 'Twere impious in me, to think Timandra Fell with her own consent. I would, thou didst not, Or that I could not read upon thy face, In blushing characters, the story of Libidinous Rape; confess it, for you stand not Accountable for a sin, against whose strength Your overmatched innocence could make no resistance; Under which odds, I know Cleora fell too, Heavens help in vain invoked; rhe amazed Sun, Hiding his face behind a mask of clouds, Not daring, to look on it, in her sufferings All sorrow's comprehended; what Timandra, Or the City has endured, her lose considered, Deserves not to be named. Oh Timandra. That I had faith enough but to believe thee, I should receive it with a joy beyond Assurance of Elysian shades hereafter, Or all the blessings in this life, a Mother Could wish her children crowned with: but I must not Credit impossibilities, yet I strive To find out that, whose knowledge is a curse, And ignorance a blessing. Come, discover What kind of look he had, that forced thy Lady, (Thy ravisher, I will inquire at leisure,) That when hereafter I behold a stranger But near him in aspect, I may conclude, (Though men and Angels should proclaim him honest,) He is a Hellbred villain. Might? Oh do not show me A beam of comfort, and straight take it from me; The means, by which she was freed? Speak, Oh speak quickly, Each minute of delay's, and age of Torment: Oh speak, Timandra. Forward. It's my fault. Distrust from others springs, Timagoras, From diffidence in our selves. But I will strive, With the assurance of my worth, and merits, To kill this monster, jealousy. pray you, no more; already I have answered that objection in my strong Assurance of her virtue. How wild she looks? How is it with thy Lady? Take breath. Who, Cleora? This confirms What but before I feared. Are you yet satisfied? It's apparent, In fact your Sisters innocent, however Changed by her violent will. Some thing I shall say, But what — My deserts, Sir, (If without arrogance I may style them such) Arm me from doubt, and fear. Am I fallen so low My birth, my honour, and what's dearest to me, My love, and witness of my love, my service, So vnder-valewd, that I must contend With one, where my excess of glory must Make his overthrow a conquest? shall my fullness supply defects in such a thing, that never Knew any thing but want and emptiness? Give him a name, and keep it such from this Unequal competition? if my pride Or any bold assurance of my worth, Has plucked this mountain of disgrace upon me, I am justly punished, and submit; but if I have been modest, and esteemed my self More injured in the tribute of the praise, Which no desert of mine prized by selflove Ever exacted; may this cause, and minute For ever be forgotten. I dwell long Upon mine anger, and now turn to you Ingrateful fair one; and since you are such, It's lawful for me to proclaim my self, And what I have deserved. You nourish, Lady Your own dishonour in this harsh reply, And almost prove what some hold of your sex. You are all made up of passion. For if reason Or judgement could find entertainment with you, Or that you would distinguish of the objects You look on in a true glass, not feduc'd By the false light of your too violent will, I should not needs to plead for that, which you With joy should offer. Is my high birth a blemish? Or does my wealth, which all the vain expense Of women cannot waste, breed loathing in you? The honours I can call mine own thought scandals? Am I deformed, or for my Father's sins Mulcted by nature? if you interpret these As crimes, it's fit I should yield up my self Most miserably guilty. But perhaps (Which yet I would not credit) you have seen This gallant, pitch the bar, or bear a burden Would crack the shoulders of a weaker bondman; Or any other boisterous exercise, Assuring a strong back to satisfy Your lose desires, insatiate as the graven. Thou liest. Would! Pisander ! It's the same! my gilded So chokes my spirits, I can not deny My falsehood, nor excuse it. Thus I gladly fee Kissing Statilia. This Advocate to plead for me. In that trust I love,