EVADNE

My lord, it's gilded enough in me to challenge A sea of tears, that you suspect me guilty. I would your just sword would so courteous be As to unrip my heart; there you shall read In characters sad lovers use to write, Nothing but innocence and true faith to you. THen from the world abjure thy self, Evadne, And in thy quiet death secure the thoughts Of troubled Tyndarus.—My womanish courage Could prompt me on to die, were not that death Doubled in losing him. the Elysian fields Can be no paradise while he's not there: The walks are dull without him. It is not charitable mirth to mock A wretched Ladies griefs. The gods are just, And may requite you with a scorn as great, As that you throw on me. Such a rudeness Some Ladies by the valour of their servants Could have redeemed.—Ungentle God of love, Write not me down among the happier names, I only live a martyr in thy flames. Exit. Gentle Tyndarus, Load not weak shoulders with too great a burden. My chaste ear Has been a stranger to such words as these, I have not sin enough to understand they, And wonder where my Tyndarus learned that language. I do not know How I should loose that pledge of my Lords love: But it's not in the power of any thief To steal away the heart I have vowed yours: And would to all the gods I had kept it there! It is not manly in you, Sir, to ruin A virgins fame, with hazard of your own. Sir, you know The power I have is yours: be your own judge, And seal your pardon here. Your justice to your selves is too severe. Me thinks this should confirm you. Though mine own love Find me enough of business, yet in hope That you will second me in my occasions, I undertake the task. Sir, the same pity I must return on you. Were I a man Whom all the Ladies might grow rivals for (As less you cannot be) I would not loose My service to a Mistress of so coy And proud and humour:— True, she is my sister, But the same womb produces several nature's. I should have entertained so great a blessing With greater thankfulness. And my fate So cruel to me! But shall I wrong my sister? I have observed, the chariot Of the great Cyprian Queen links not together The dove with sparrows; but the turtle joins With turtles, and the sparrow has his mate. One lip not meets the other with more sympathy, Then yours met mine. I cannot blame your jealousy: for I find— Will you then misconstrue The service I performed at your request? Sir, with much persuasion She wrought on me to personate a love To Pamphilus, to find if I could stagger The faith he vowed to her. This have I done, And this so much hath moved her. Diana, And whatsoever Goddess else protects Untouched virginity, shield me with your powers. To what a wilderness have my wandering steps Betrayed me! sure this cannot be a place To meet my Tyndarus in. What strange fancies My maiden fears present me! Why, I know not: But this suspicion seldom bodeth good. If ever silly lamb thus strayed before Into a flock of wolves; or harmless dove Not only made the prey, but the contention Of ravenous eagles; such poor soul am I. If there be here A Gentleman in whom there lives a spark Of virtue not yet out; I do beseech him, By all the ashes of his ancestors, And by the constant love he bears his mistress, To rescue innocence and virginity From these base monsters. I for him will pay A thousand prayers a morning, all as pure And free from earthly thought, as ever found passage Through the strict gate of heaven. Sir, may this favour done And injured maid call blessings on your head In plenteous showers! May plumed victory Wait on your sword: and if you have a mistress, May she be fair as lilies, and as chaste As the sweet morning Due that loads the heads Of drooping flowers: may you have fair children To propagate your virtues to posterity And bless succeeding times.— May you and plenty never live asunder. Peace make your bed,—and— Call back your words, and loose not that reward Heaven is engaged to pay you. I beg it on my knees, Have a respect to your own soul, that sinks In this dishonour, Sir, as deep as mine. Let these tears Plead for me: did you rescue me from thieves, To rob me of the jewel you preserved? I thank thee blessed occasion:—Now I dare She snatches a stilletto out of his pocket. Stand off, or I will search my heart with this, And force my blood a passage, that in anger Shall fly into thy face, and tell thee boldly Thou art a villain. You speak honour. And has he left me in this dragons den! A spoil to rapine! what defence, poor maid, Hast thou against these wild and salvage beasts? My stars were cruel: If you be courteous eyes, Weep me a flood of tears, and drown me in't, And be Physicians to my sorrows now, That have too long been Heralds of my grief. My thread of life has hitherto drawn out More woes then minutes. Is any left so courteous to wish health To the distressed Evadne? Pamphilus? Now all the Gods Preserve her hence, there is in hell more safety Among the Furies—Mischief built this house For all her family. Gentle Pamphilus, See me delivered from this jail, this dungeon, This horrid vault of lust. You have confirmed me, Sir. Pamphilus, in me All stars conspire to make affliction perfect. Pamphilus, When did you see my sweetheart? prithee tell me, Is he not gone a maying?—he will bring me Some pinks and daisies home to morrow morning. Pray heaven he meet no thieves. What shall I do? I cannot live without him. I am come To seek my truelove here. Did you not see him? He's come to dwell with you, pray use him well, He was a proper Gentleman. Alas! you make me weep. Could any woman love a man, but him! No Tyndarus, I will not long outlive thee: We will be married in Elysium, And arm in arm walk through the-blessed groves, And change a thousand kisses,—you sha'nt see us. If you see my Tyndarus, Pray tell him I will make all haste to meet him. I will but weep a while first. Pray, Sir, direct me where I may embalm My Tyndarus with my tears. Is this a casket fit to entertain A jewel of such valve? Hail Tyndarus, may earth but lightly press thee: And mayest thou find those joys thou art gone to taste, As true as my affection. Now I know Thou canst not choose but love me, and with longing Expect my quick arrival: for the soul Freed from the cloud of flesh, clearly discerns Forms in their perfect nature. If there be A gilded upon thy blood, thus I'll redeem it, offers to kill herself. Stay not my pious hand. Pardon me, Tyndarus, I will only see That office done, and then I'll follow thee. But I Still live a widowed virgin. Gentle Hymen, What sin have I unwillingly committed To call heavens anger on me?