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Full speech
Good Sir be comforted: Brother speak to them. Alas! you do but hurt your selves with weeping; Consider pray, it may be she'll come back. For shame good Brother, see if you can comfort them, Me thinks you should say something. Fie Brother, you're a man, And should not be shaken with every wind, If it were possible to call her back with mourning, mourning were a piety, But since it cannot, you must give me leave To call it folly: Alas! how can I if you leave me? but I hope your resolutions may be altered. Will you needs go? Did you command the servants to withdraw? And have you shut the doors? Ye good Gods Forbid; is this that man who was the cause Of all the grief for Callidora's lose? Is this the man that I so oft have cursed? Now I could almost hate him, and me thinks He is not quite so handsome as he was; And yet alas he is, though by his means My Brother is gone from me, and heaven knows If I shall see him more, Fool as I am, I cannot choose but love him. O! say not so: The crimes which Lovers for their Mistress act Bear both the weight and stamp of piety. What sudden fear shook me, you may imagine, What should I do? you both were out of town, And most of the servants at that time gone with you. I on the sudden found a corner out, And hid my self, till they wearied with searching, Quit the house, but fearing lest they should Attempt the same again ere your return, I took with me money and other necessaries; And in a suit my Brother left behind Disguised my self, thus to the woods I went, Where meeting with and honest merry Swain, I by his help was furnished, and made Shepherd. Then now I'm sure Sir, you would gladly pardon The rash attempt of Aphron, for your Daughter, Since fortune hath joined, both of you by kindred. I'll save that labour. Exit Clariana. Why do you stare my Aphron? They have forgiven all. Is there none can overhear our talk? Thou knowest well That thou hast found me always liker to Thy Kinswoman then Mistress, that thy breast Has been the Cabinet of all my secrets, This I tell thee, not as and exprobration, But because I must require thy faith And counsel here. And therefore prithee swear— To be more silent then the dead of night, And to thy power to help me. Nay do not swear, I will not wrong thy virtue To bind it with and oath. I'll tell thee all; Does not my face seem paler then 'twas wont? Does not my eye look as it borrowed flame From my found heart; could not my frequent weepings, My sudden sighs, and abrupt speeches tell thee What J am grown? No, I'm a wretched Lover; couldst thou nor Read that out of my blushes? fie upon thee; Thou art a novice in Loves school I see; Trust me I envy at thy ignorance, That canst not find out Cupid's characters In a lost Maid, sure thou didst never know him. I am ashamed to tell thee, prithee guess him, Thou sawest the gentleman whom I this morning Brought in to be my guest. Thou shalt know all; The freshness of the morning did invite me To walk abroad, there I began to think How I had lost my Brother, that one thought Like circles in the water begat many, Those and the pleasant verdure of the fields Made me forget the way, and did entice me Farther then either fear or modesty Else would have suffered me, beneath and oak Which spread a flourishing Canopy round about, And was it self alone almost a wood, I found a Gentleman distracted strangely, Crying aloud for either food, or sleep, And knocking his white hands against the ground, Making that groan Like me, when I beheld it, Pity, and fear, both proper to us women, Drave my feet back far swifter then they went, When I came home, I took two servants with me And fetched the gentleman, hither I brought him, And with such cheer as then the house afforded, Replenished him, he was much mended suddenly, Is now asleep, and when he wakes I hope Will find his senses perfect. Fie, Fie, how dull thou art, Thou dost not use in other things to be so; Why I love him; His name I cannot tell thee; For it's my great unhappiness to be Still ignorant of that my self. He comes, Look, this is he, but do not grow my rival If thou canst those. Leave me alone with him; withdraw. Spare these titles I am a wretched woman, who for pity (Alas that I should pity! had been better (Aside) That I had been remorseless) brought you hither, Where with some food and rest, thanks to the Gods Your senses are recovered. Alas! 'twas only My love, and if you will reward me for't, Pay that J lent you, J'le require no interest; The Principal's enough. You're loath perhaps to understand. But I am covetous in my demands, I am not satisfied with windlike promises Which only touch the lips; I ask your heart Your whole heart for me, in exchange of mine, Which so I gave to you. You cannot love me then? You're very welcome. What are you going Bellula ? pray stay, Though Nature contradicts our love, I hope That I may have your friendship. Go no farther Sir, it's I should say so Of my own self. Fare you well then, I would not do that wrong to one I love, To urge him farther then his power and will; Farewell, remember me when you are gone, And happy in the love of Callidora. Exit.
Plot summary
Plot — Love's Riddle
Before the start of the action, Callidora was the victim of an attempted rape when she was alone in her absent parents’ house. Aphron, who was obsessed with her, broke into the house, but she hid in a corner and evaded him. Afraid of a second encounter, she borrowed a suit of her brother’s clothes and fled into the forest. Aphron went mad, and initially believed every woman he met to be Callidora. In the forest, the cross-dressed Callidora becomes ‘Callidorus’. She meets Alupis, a shepherd who sold his inheritance to see the city and came home penniless but with a witty devotion to pleasure. She takes him on as her man, and asks him to teach her indifference to love. She sets up home in the country, only to find that, seeming to be a beautiful youth, she attracts the amorous attentions of the local women, young and old. Palaemon is interested in marrying Hylace, but her father Melarnus refuses the match, thinking him too poor. But Hylace has only been leading him on, more interested in his gifts than himself. Alupis encourages him to turn the tables: she will come to heel if he treats her with masterful disdain; but when this doesn’t bring about her immediate devotion, he loses his nerve and tells her it was all a joke. Alupis decides to recruit her mother, the ancient but amorously inclined Truga, to support Palaemon’s suit. Though infatuated with ‘Callidorus’, Truga transfers her affections to Alupis when he speaks politely to her, and gives him a ring as a lover’s token. Alupis uses the ring to blackmail her: he will show it to her husband, as evidence of adultery, if she doesn’t ensure that Palaemon and Hylace are married before the end of the day. When he brings Palaemon to Truga’s cottage to arrange the wedding, Hylace eavesdrops on the meeting and decides to cross the plan. Palaemon and Alupis meet with Melarnus. The problem of Palaemon’s relative poverty is resolved when Aegon pretends to adopt him as his heir, disinheriting his daughter Bellula for her unseemly interest in ‘Callidorus’; so Melarnus accepts Palaemon, though he still has reservations about the young man’s habit of writing poetry. Before the wedding, however, he changes his mind and pretends that Hylace is to marry someone else—Hylace has had a word with him. Florellus, Callidora’s brother, returns home after five years’ travel, and goes to look for his missing sister. In the forest, he sees Bellula and falls for her; but she is more interested in ‘Callidorus’, and urges the…