AGLAURA

Did none do greater mischief (Sir) than I, heaven would not much be troubled with sad story, nor would the quarrel man has to the Stars be kept alive so strongly. Their weaknesses you mean, and I confess, Sir. A kind of merry sadness in this face becomes it much. Will he not surfeit, when he once shall come to grosser fare (my Lord) and so grow sick, and Love once sick, how quickly will it die? Undress me:— Is it not late, Iolina? it was the longest day, this— Needs there any new ones, where the breach is made already? you are entered here— long since (Sir) here, and I have given up all. What means the Prince, my Lord? It's strange, but I am all Obedience— What wretch is this that thus usurps upon the privilege of Ghosts, and walks at midnight? Betray me not my willing sense too soon, yet if that voice be false.— It is the Prince— as willingly as those that cannot sleep do light; welcome (Sir,) welcome above.— Bless me, what means this unsheathed minister of death? if, Sir, on me quick Justice be to pass, why this? absence alas, or such strange looks as you now bri g with you would kill as soon: Can I forget it Sir? Yes into Z riffi Sir. You do amaze me, Sir. Was it well done Sir? Gather not roses in a wet and frowing hour, they'll loose their sweets then, trust me they will Sir. What pleasure can Love take to play his game out, when death must keep the Stakes— hark Sir—grave bringers, and last minutes are at hand, hide, hide your self, for Loves sake hide your self. Oh talk not Sir; the Sun does hide himself when night and blackness comes— My brother! If all the joy within me come not out, to give a welcome to so deer and oh ject, excuse it Sir; sorrow locks up all doors. Dear (Sir) be ruled, if love, be love, and magic too, (as sure it is where it is true;) we then shall meet in absence, and in spite of all divorce, freely enjoy together, what niggard Fate thus peevishly denies. Can I be safe when you are not? my Lord! knows love in us divided happiness? am I the safer for your being here? can you give that you have not for your self? my innocence is my best guard, and that your stay betraying it unto suspicion, takes away. If you did love me?— And misery, such as witty malice would Jay out in curses, on the thing it hates, Heaven send me in the stead, if when you're gone I welcome it, but for your sake alone.— Leave me! for to a Soul, so out of Tune as mine is now; nothing is harmony: when once the maine-spring, Hope, is fallen into disorder; no wonder, if the lesser wheels, Desire, and Joy, stand still; my thoughts Like Bees when they have lost their King, wander confusedly up and down, and settle no where. Orithie, fly! fly the room, as thou wouldst shun the habitations which Spirits haunt, or where thy nearer friends walk after death; here is not only Love, ut Loves plague too—misfortune; and so high, that it is sure infectious! Oh speak them quickly then! the marriage day to passionate Lovers never was more welcome, than any kind of ease would be to me now. It's hard indeed, but with what unjust scales, thou tookest the weight of our misfortunes, be thine own Judge now. thou mournest for lose of that thou never hadst, or if thou hadst a lose, it never was of a Thersames. wouldst thou not think a Merchant mad, Orithie? if thou shouldst see him weep, and tear his hair, because he brought not both the Indies home? and wouldst not think his sorrows very just, if having fraught his ship with some rich Treasure, he sunk i'th' very Port? This is our case. He is the man then— blush not Orithie, it's a sin to blush for loving him, though none at all to love him. I can admit of rivalship without a jealousy—nay shall be glad of it: we two will fit, and think, and think, and sighs, and sighs, and talk of love—and of Thersames. Thou shalt be praising of his wit, while I admire he governs it so well: Like this thing, said thus, th'other thing thus done, and in good language him for these adore, while I want words to doo't, yet do it more. Thus will we do, till death it self shall us divide, and then whose fate 'tshall be to die first of the two, by legacy shall all her love bequeathe, and give her stock to her that shall survive; for no one stock can serve, to love Thersames so as hee'll deserve. I know not what to say: s't to your pity, or your scorn, I owe the favour of this visit (Sir?) for such my fortune is, it does deserve them both: If I have sinned so high, that yet my punishment equals not my crime, do Sir; I should be loath to die in debt to Justice, how ill soere I paid the scores of Love.— What satisfaction Sir? I am no monster, never had two hearts; One is by holy vows another's now, and could I give it you, you would not take it, for'tis alike impossible for me, to love again, as you love Perjury. Oh Sir! consider, what a flame love is. If by rude means you think to force a light, that of it self it would not freely give, you blow it out, and leave your self i'th' dark. The Prince once gone, you may as well persuade the light to stay behind, when the Sun posts to th'other world, as me; alas! we two, have mingled souls more than two meeting brooks; and whosoever is designed to be the murderer of my Lord, (as sure there is, has angered heaven so far, that 'tas decreed him to increase his punishment that way) would he but search the heart, when he has done, he there would find Aglaura murdered too. Would! it's a strange Act thought puts me now upon; yet sure my brother meant the self same thing, and my Thersames would have done't for me: to take his life, that seeks to take away the life of Life, (honour from me;) and from the world, the life of honour, Thersames; must needs be something sure, of kin to Justice. If I do fail, th'attempt howere was brave, and I shall have at worst a handsome grave— How ill this does become this hand, how much worse this suits with this, one of the two should go. The she within me says, it must be this— honour says this—and honour is Thersames friend. What is that she then? it is not a thing that sets a Price, not upon me, but on life in my name, leading me into doubt, which when 'tas done, it cannot light me out. For fear does drive to Fate, or Fate if we do fly, overtakes, and holds us, till or death, or infamy, or both does cease us.— Would!—would 'twere in again. Antiques and strange mishaps, such as the Porter to my Soul, mine Eye, was never acquainted with, Fancy lets in, Like a distracted multitude, by some strange accident pieced together, fear now afresh comes on, and charges Love to home. —He comes—he comes— woman, if thou wouldst be the Subject of men wonder, not his scorn hereafter, now show thy self. Sudden and fortunate. My better Angel sure did both infuse a strength, and did direct it. Brother— I thought how poor the Joys you brought with you, were in respect of those that were with me: Joys, are our Hope's stripped of their fears, and such are mine; for know, deer Brother, the King is come already, and is gone—mark that. The Cave will tell you more— The Prince, where?— Tell me, or I will strait goeback again, into those groves of Gessemine, thou tookest me from, and find him out, or loose my self for ever. Benighted to eternity?—What's that? What place have murderers brother there? for sure the murderer of the Prince must have a punishment that Heaven is yet to make.— Do you think so? How ill this does become this hand? much worse this suits with this, one of the two should go: The she within me says, it must be this,— honour says this—and honour is Thersames friend. What is that she then, is it not a thing that sets a price, not upon me, but on life in my name, leading me into doubt, which when 'thas done, it cannot light me out? For fear does drive to Fate, or Fate if we do fly, overtakes, and holds us, till or death, or infamy, or both do seize us. Would!—would 'twere in again. Antiques & strange mishaps, such as the Porter to my Soul, mine Eye, was never acquainted with, fancy lets in, Like a disrouted multitude, by some strange accident pieced together; fear now afresh comes on, and charges Love too home. —He comes, he comes.— woman, if thou wouldst be the Subject of men wonder, not his scorn hereafter,— —now show thy self. The Princes voice, defend it Goodness? O sad mistake, it's he? I would I had not, nor a being neither. O still believe so, Sir, for 'twas not I indeed, but fatal Love. Why do you stare and wonder at a thing that you your self have made thus miserable? Did you not tell me that the King this night meant to attempt my honour, that our condition would not admit of middle ways, and that we must send them to graves, or lie our selves in dust? Sure I shall turn statue here. Discourteous courtesy! I had no other means left me than this, to let Thersames know I would do nothing to him, I would not do unto my self, and that thou takest away. O my dearest Lord, this kindness is so full of cruelty, puts such and ugliness on what I have done, that when I look upon it, needs must fright me from my self, and which is more insufferable, I fear from you. Destroy it? can it have ever end? will you not be thus courteous then in the other world? shall we not be together there as here? Not tell? Because if I shall be more pure, I shall be then more fit for you. Our Priests assure us and Flys m, and can that be Elysium where true Lovers must not meet? Those Powers that made our loves, did they intend them mortal, would sure have made them of a courser stuff, would they not my Lord?— Some p ying Power inspire me with a way to follow : heart wilt thou not break it of thy self. What says Andrages? Mine, my Lord, call you this drowsiness a quiet then? belee e me, Sir, 'twas and intruder I much struggled with, and have to thank a dream, not you, that it thus left me. I dreamt (Sir) it was day, and the fear you should be found here. Orithie, how for thy sake now could I wish Love were no Mathematic point, but would admit division, that Thersames might, though at my charge, pay thee the debt he owes thee. What mean you Sir? Do: Sir, do what you will with me, for I am too much yours, to deny the right however claimed—but— What you will Sir. NO, no, fair Heretic, it needs must be But and ill Love in me, And worse for thee. For were it in my Power, To love thee now this hour, More than I did the last; I would then so fallen, I might not Love at all; Love that can flow, and can admit increase, Admits as well and Ebb, and may grow less. True Love is still the same; the torrid Zones, And those more frigid ones, It must not know: For Love grown cold or hight, Is Lust, or Friendship, not The thing we have; For that's a flame would die, Held down, or up to high: Then think I love more than I Can express, And would love more, could I but love thee less.