EMERIA

But will you not, my Lord, repent to have placed Your love so much unworthily. This hand and heaven Be witness where my heart goes. Pray my Lord use My poor heart kindly, for you take it with you. I do beseech your highness pardon, I did think I was alone. You are too great to flatter me, And yet this language comes So near the wickedness of court praise, I dare not With modesty imagine your heart means so. Not I sir. Your Grace is courtly. I must ag n beseech Your pardon, and declare my self most ignorant: Pray speak your meaning in a dialect I understand. If this be it, I dare not sir believe You condescend so low to love Emeria, A worthless thing. I am more skilled in duty sir, then love. Indeed it is. I must not name. Alas, I fear. Be your own sir, And do not thus afflict my innocence, Had you the power of all the world, and man, You could not force my will, which you have frighted More from you then my duty, although powerful, Can call again; you are not modest sir, Indeed I fear you are not, I must leave you, Better desires attend your Grace and me. What is it that does fit so heavy on me? Since Coribrous talked with me, I find a dulness in my brain; and My eyes look as through a missed: which hangs upon my lids, And weighs e'm down. He frighted me to hear him, He has a rugged and revengeful nature; Not the sweet temper that his brother. My deer Con llus, mine? alas did I Say mine? indeed he is Master of my heart, But something makes me fear I shall not So happy as I wish in his possession: Yet we have vows on both sid S, holy ones, And marriage promised. But I am too loud; Yet not, my lodgings are remote and priva'st Of all the Court: and I have dismissed the servants, None near to reach my voice, then till this give Access, I needs not fear the silent chambers. More clouds do gather about my eyes, it's strange, I am not used to be inclined to sleep, While the day shines; then take what nature offers Emeria, and comply, it may discharge Thy waking melancholy, so I feel It gently slide upon my senses. Can this roof Be so much blessed? and can so great a deity Consider my imperfect duty thus? None of all these; let me be still accepted And humble servant to the gods. I dare not. Do our gods practice this? I thought the powers above had been all honest. Away: Thou art no God sure, but Some vicious Impostor: Can a Deity Breath so much impious language, and reward Virtue with shame? Better be so, than made so foul a being. O help, some man, I dare not call upon the gods; for they are wicked grown, o help. A traitor, Sir! O do not say so; it's, I hear, for nothing, But looking on the stranger Patrick with Some pity. His brother Coribreus Is nearer to that title, and he says He loves me. I have no cause of mirth, Barred. Think of thee, Barred; I think th'art honest, and canst show a pleasant face sometime, without and over joy within, but it's thy office. Prithee why dost think, Barred? Why, thou art one? I am so far From being raised to mirth, that I incline To anger. No more, or I'll complain: sure he knows nothing of my dishonour. How mine own thoughts fright me? Hence, foolish Barred. Call back Your promises, my Lord, they were ill placed On me, for I have nothing to deserve'em. That word hath wounded me. I have the shape still, But not the inward partly. Now, my deer Lord, and let me add thus much In my own partly, I never loved you better; Never with more religious thoughts and honour Looked on you; my heart never made a vow So blessed in my Hope's, as that I gave you, And I suspect not yours. Yes, I am less, and have that taken from me Hath almost left me nothing, or if any, So much unworthy you, that you would curse me, Should I betray you to receive Emeria. Then thus— But if I drop a tear or two, pray pardon me: Did not the story touch my self, I should Weep for it in another; you did promise To marry me, my Lord. Alas, I have lost. The portion that I promised to bring with me. O, but the treasure I lost, you will expect, and scorn me ever, Because you have it not; yet heaven is witness It's not my fault, a thief did force it from me, O my deer Lord. You'll say I am too loud, When I but whisper, Sir. I am no virgin. I knew 'twould fright you; but by all those tears, The poor Lamb, made a prey to the fierce wolf, Had not more innocence, or less consent To be devoured, than I to loose mine honour. You have nam it, Sir It will enlarge but your vexation, Sir, That he's above your anger and revenge; For he did call himself a God that did it. If you do think I ever loved you, Sir, Or have a soul after my bodies rape, He named himself a God, great Ceancrochius, To whom I owe my shame and transformation. So; I did see before it would afflict him: But having given these reasons to Conallus, For our divorce, I have provided how To finish all disgraces by my death. Enter Archimagus. Come, cure of my dishonour, and with blood Wash off my stain. Would, Archimagus! What news with our great Priest. And thus be answered, with a resolute heart. Would? the Prince? were you my ravisher my Lord? I have done a justice to the gods in this And my own honour. Thou lost thing to goodness; It was a glorious wound, and I am proud To be the gods revenger. Call on the furies they did help thy sin, And will transport thy soul on their black wings To hell, Princ ; and the gods can do no less, Than in reward to draw thy purple stream up, Shed in their cause, and place it a portent In heaven, to affright such foul lascivious Princes. I will live now, this story shall not fallen so, And yet I must not stay here, now Conallus I have done some revenge for thee in this, Yet all this wonot h lp me to my own Again; my honour of a virgin never will Return, I live and move, but wanting thee, At best I'm but a walking misery. I am no ghost, but the same lost Emeria, My Lord, you left me. I felt no flame, but that which my revenge Did light me to, for my abused honour. But he found the way to death: And when I name him, you will either not Believe me, or compassion of his wounds Will make you print as many in my breast: He was— It was your brother Coribreus, Sir: That name unties your promise. I did not well to enlarge his sorrow thus: Though I can hope no comfort in this world, He might live happy, if I did not kill him, With heaping grief on grief thus. If you will, Sir, revenge his death, you must Point your wrath here, and I will thank you for't; Though you should be a day in killing me, I should live so much longer to forgive you. This weak hand did not tremble when it killed him, And it came timely to prevent, I fear, The second partly of horror he had meant To act upon me. I took no joy, Sir, in his Tragedy. I left my father's house, And found no weight hung on my feet for giving His lust the bloody recompense. How? My humblest duty, Madam You have quieted the tempest in my soul, And in this holy peace I must be happy. Would? who's that? was it a voice that called me? Or do I dream? here's no body, this key Made all without sast; yet In l see. The doors are fast. Would Bless me you Powers, This music is not frequent in my chambers; It's here, I know not where, I can see nothing. Who is't that calls Emeria? goodness aid me! But no acquaintance sure, what are you? Upon me? My strength returns, this is a gentle language, And Spirit, if thou be'st one; speak thy will. I know not what to answer But with my humble knee. Imagine I had promised, Sir, my heart To his younger brother. I begin to find Some Magical imposture. Does he know it? This does increase my fears, I've been betrayed, I'll live a little longer then; great Priest My words are poor to make acknowledgement For so divine a a favour: But I shall Humbly expect, and hold my self again Blessed in his presence. That question would become and ignorant Mortal, Whose sense would be informed; not Ceancrochius Whose eye at once can see the soul of all things. You are still gracious. Sure if you be a God, you are above These wounds: If man thou hast deserved to bleed For thy impiety. I know not where I am, this wood has lost me, But I shall never more be worth the finding: I was not wise to leave my father's house, For here I may be made a prey to rapine, Or food to cruel beasts. Protect me some good power, more ravishers. Are you a man? Where shall I hide my self? You were not sent to abuse me?