Enter CROTOLON and ORGILUS.
CROTOLON
Dally not further. I will know the reason
That speeds thee to this journey.
ORGILUS
Reason? Good sir,
I can yield many.
CROTOLON
Give me one, a good one –
Such I expect, and ere we part must have.
Athens? Pray, why to Athens? You intend not
To kick against the world, turn Cynic, Stoic,1
Or read the logic lecture,2 or become
An Areopagite3 and judge in causes
Touching the commonwealth? For, as I take it,
10 The budding of your chin4 cannot prognosticate
So grave an honour.
ORGILUS
All this I acknowledge.
CROTOLON
You do? Then, son, if books and love of knowledge
Inflame you to this travel, here in Sparta
You may as freely study.
ORGILUS
’Tis not that, sir.
Not that, sir? As a father I command thee
To acquaint me with the truth.
ORGILUS
Thus I obey ’ee.
After so many quarrels as dissension,
Fury and rage had broached in blood, and sometimes
With death to such confederates as sided
20 With now-dead Thrasus1 and yourself, my lord,
Our present king, Amyclas, reconciled
Your eager swords and sealed a gentle peace.
Friends you professed yourselves; which to confirm,
A resolution for a lasting league
Betwixt your families was entertained,
By joining in a Hymenean bond2
Me and the fair Penthea, only daughter
To Thrasus.
CROTOLON
What of this?
ORGILUS
Much, much, dear sir.
A freedom of converse, an interchange
30 Of holy and chaste love so fixed our souls
In a firm growth of holy union, that no time
Can eat into the pledge. We had enjoyed
The sweets our vows expected, had not cruelty
Prevented all those triumphs3 we prepared for
By Thrasus his untimely death.
CROTOLON
Most certain.
ORGILUS
From this time sprouted up that poisonous stalk
Of aconite,4 whose ripened fruit hath ravished
All health, all comfort of a happy life.
For Ithocles her brother, proud of youth
40 And prouder in his power, nourished closely1
The memory of former discontents
To glory in revenge. By cunning partly,
Partly by threats, ’a woos at once and forces
His virtuous sister to admit a marriage
With Bassanes – a nobleman in honour
And riches, I confess, beyond my fortunes.
CROTOLON
All this is no sound reason to importune
My leave for thy departure.
ORGILUS
Now it follows:
Beauteous Penthea, wedded to this torture
50 By an insulting2 brother, being secretly
Compelled to yield her virgin freedom up
To him who never can usurp her heart,
Before contracted mine, is now so yoked
To a most barbarous thraldom, misery,
Affliction, that he savours not humanity3
Whose sorrow melts not into more than pity
In hearing but her name.
CROTOLON
As how, pray?
ORGILUS
Bassanes,
The man that calls her wife, considers truly
What heaven of perfections he is lord of
60 By thinking fair Penthea his. This thought
Begets a kind of monster-love, which love
Is nurse unto a fear so strong and servile
As brands all dotage with a jealousy.4
All eyes who gaze upon that shrine of beauty,
He doth resolve,1 do homage to the miracle.
Someone, he is assured, may now or then –
If opportunity but sort2 – prevail.
So much, out of a self-unworthiness,
His fears transport him; not that he finds cause
70 In her obedience, but his own distrust.
CROTOLON
You spin out your discourse.
ORGILUS
My griefs are violent.
For knowing how the maid was heretofore
Courted by me, his jealousies grow wild
That I should steal again into her favours,
And undermine her virtues – which, the gods
Know, I nor dare nor dream of. Hence, from hence
I undertake a voluntary exile.
First, by my absence to take off the cares
Of jealous Bassanes; but chiefly, sir,
80 To free Penthea from a hell on earth;
Lastly, to lose the memory of something
Her presence makes to live in me afresh.
CROTOLON
Enough, my Orgilus, enough. To Athens
I give a full consent – alas, good lady!
We shall hear from thee often?
ORGILUS
Often.
Enter EUPHRANIA.
CROTOLON
See,
Thy sister comes to give a farewell.
EUPHRANIA
Brother.
Euphrania, thus upon thy cheeks I print
A brother’s kiss, more careful of thine honour,
Thy health and thy well-doing than my life.
[He kisses her.]
90 Before we part, in presence of our father,
I must prefer a suit1 to ’ee –
EUPHRANIA
You may style it,
My brother, a command.
ORGILUS
– That you will promise
To pass never to any man, however worthy,
Your faith, till, with our father’s leave,
I give a free consent.
CROTOLON
An easy motion.2
I’ll promise for her, Orgilus.
ORGILUS
Your pardon:
Euphrania’s oath must yield me satisfaction.
EUPHRANIA
By Vesta’s3 sacred fires, I swear.
CROTOLON
And I,
By great Apollo’s4 beams, join in the vow;
100 Not without thy allowance to bestow her
On any living.
ORGILUS
Dear Euphrania,
Mistake me not. Far, far ’tis from my thought,
As far from any wish of mine, to hinder
Preferment to an honourable bed
Or fitting fortune. Thou art young and handsome,
And ’twere injustice – more, a tyranny –
Not to advance thy merit. Trust me, sister,
It shall be my first care to see thee matched
As may become thy choice and our contents.1
I have your oath?
EUPHRANIA
110 You have. But mean you, brother,
To leave us as you say?
CROTOLON
Ay, ay, Euphrania,
He has just grounds direct him. I will prove
A father and a brother to thee.
EUPHRANIA
Heaven
Does look into the secrets of all hearts.
Gods, you have mercy with ’ee, else –
CROTOLON
Doubt2 nothing;
Thy brother will return in safety to us.
ORGILUS [Aside]
Souls sunk in sorrows never are without ’em;
They change fresh airs,3 but bear their griefs about ’em.
Exeunt.
Flourish. Enter AMYCLAS the King, ARMOSTES, PROPHILUS and ATTENDANTS.
AMYCLAS
The Spartan gods are gracious. Our humility
Shall bend before their altars, and perfume
Their temples with abundant sacrifice.
See, lords, Amyclas, your old king, is ent’ring
Into his youth again. I shall shake off
This silver badge of age, and change this snow
For hairs as gay as are Apollo’s locks.1
Our heart leaps in new vigour.
ARMOSTES
May old time
Run back to double your long life, great sir.
AMYCLAS
10 It will; it must, Armostes. Thy bold nephew,
Death-braving Ithocles, brings to our gates
Triumphs and peace upon his conquering sword.
Laconia2 is a monarchy at length;3
Hath, in this latter war, trod underfoot
Messene’s4 pride. Messene bows her neck
To Lacedemon’s5 royalty. Oh, ’twas
A glorious victory, and doth deserve
More than a chronicle – a temple, lords,
A temple to the name of Ithocles!
Where didst thou leave him, Prophilus?
PROPHILUS
Most gracious sovereign. Twenty of the noblest
Of the Messenians there attend your pleasure,
For such conditions as you shall propose
In settling peace and liberty of life.
AMYCLAS
When comes your friend, the General?
PROPHILUS
He promised
To follow with all speed convenient.
Enter CROTOLON, CALANTHA, CHRYSTALLA, PHILEMA [with a garland] and EUPHRANIA.
AMYCLAS
Our daughter! – Dear Calantha, the happy news,
The conquest of Messene, hath already
Enriched thy knowledge?
CALANTHA
With the circumstance
30 And manner of the fight, related faithfully
By Prophilus himself. – But pray, sir, tell me,
How doth the youthful General demean1
His actions in these fortunes?
PROPHILUS
Excellent Princess,
Your own fair eyes may soon report a truth
Unto your judgement, with what moderation,
Calmness of nature, measure, bounds and limits
Of thankfulness and joy ’a doth digest
Such amplitude of his success as would
In others, moulded of a spirit less clear,
40 Advance ’em to comparison with heaven.
But Ithocles –
CALANTHA
Your friend –
PROPHILUS
He is so, madam,
In which the period of my fate2 consists.
He, in this firmament of honour, stands
Like a star fixed, not moved with any thunder
Of popular applause, or sudden lightning
Of self-opinion. He hath served his country,
And thinks ’twas but his duty.
CROTOLON
You describe
A miracle of man.
Such, Crotolon,
On forfeit of a king’s word, thou wilt find him.
Flourish.
50 Hark, warning of his coming! All attend him.
Enter ITHOCLES, LEMOPHIL and GRONEAS, the rest of the LORDS ushering him in.
AMYCLAS
Return into these arms, thy home, thy sanctuary,
Delight of Sparta, treasure of my bosom,
Mine own, own Ithocles!
[AMYCLAS embraces him.]
ITHOCLES
Your humblest subject.
ARMOSTES
Proud of the blood I claim an interest in,
As brother to thy mother, I embrace thee,
Right noble nephew.
[ARMOSTES embraces him.]
ITHOCLES
Sir, your love’s too partial.
CROTOLON
Our country speaks by me, who, by thy valour,
Wisdom and service, shares in this great action,
Returning thee, in part1 of thy due merits,
A general welcome.
[CROTOLON embraces him.]
ITHOCLES
60 You exceed in bounty.
CALANTHA
Chrystalla, Philema: the chaplet.2
[They hand CALANTHA a garland.]
Ithocles,
Upon the wings of fame the singular
And chosen fortune of an high attempt
Is borne so past the view of common sight
That I myself, with mine own hands, have wrought
To crown thy temples this provincial1 garland.
Accept, wear and enjoy it as our gift:
Deserved, not purchased.2
[She places the garland on ITHOCLES’s head.]
ITHOCLES
Y’are a royal maid.
AMYCLAS
She is, in all, our daughter.
ITHOCLES
Let me blush,
70 Acknowledging how poorly I have served,
What nothings I have done, compared with th’honours
Heaped on the issue of a willing mind;
In that lay mine ability, that only.
For who is he so sluggish from his birth,
So little worthy of a name or country,
That owes not out of gratitude for life
A debt of service, in what kind so ever
Safety or counsel of the commonwealth
Requires for payment?
CALANTHA
’A speaks truth.
ITHOCLES
Whom heaven
80 Is pleased to style victorious, there, to such,
Applause runs madding, like the drunken priests
In Bacchus’3 sacrifices, without reason,
Voicing the leader-on4 a demi-god;
When as, indeed, each common soldier’s blood
Drops down as current5 coin in that hard purchase,
As his whose much more delicate condition
Hath sucked the milk of ease. Judgement commands,
But resolution executes. I use not,
Before this royal presence, these fit slights1
90 As in contempt of such as can direct.
My speech hath other end: not to attribute
All praise to one man’s fortune, which is strengthed
By many hands. For instance, here is Prophilus,
A gentleman – I cannot flatter truth –
Of much desert; and, though in other rank,
Both Lemophil and Groneas were not missing
To wish their country’s peace. For, in a word,
All there did strive their best, and ’twas our duty.
AMYCLAS
Courtiers turn soldiers? We vouchsafe our hand.
[LEMOPHIL and GRONEAS kiss AMYCLAS’s hand.]
Observe your great example.2
LEMOPHIL
100 With all diligence.
GRONEAS
Obsequiously and hourly.
AMYCLAS
Some repose
After these toils are needful. We must think on
Conditions for the conquered; they expect3 ’em.
On! Come, my Ithocles.
[PROPHILUS offers EUPHRANIA his arm.]
EUPHRANIA
Sir, with your favour,
I need not a supporter.4
PROPHILUS
Fate instructs me.
Exeunt, all except LEMOPHIL, GRONEAS, CHRYSTALLA and PHILEMA.
LEMOPHIL stays CHRYSTALLA. GRONEAS [stays] PHILEMA.
With me?
PHILEMA
Indeed, I dare not stay.
LEMOPHIL [To CHRYSTALLA]
Sweet lady,
Soldiers are blunt. Your lip –
[He tries to kiss her.]
CHRYSTALLA
Fie, this is rudeness!
You went not hence such creatures.
GRONEAS
Spirit of valour
Is of a mounting1 nature.
PHILEMA
GRONEAS
’Faith, not many:
We were composed of mercy.
LEMOPHIL
For our daring
You heard the General’s approbation
Before the King.
CHRYSTALLA
You ‘wished your country’s peace’:
That showed your charity. Where are your spoils,
Such as the soldier fights for?
PHILEMA
They are coming.
CHRYSTALLA
By the next carrier, are they not?
GRONEAS
Sweet Philema,
When I was in the thickest of mine enemies,
Slashing off one man’s head, another’s nose,
Another’s arms and legs –
PHILEMA
120 And all together.
GRONEAS
– Then would I with a sigh remember thee,
And cry ‘Dear Philema, ’tis for thy sake
I do these deeds of wonder!’ Dost not love me
With all thy heart now?
PHILEMA
GRONEAS
By Mars,2
I’ll marry thee.
PHILEMA
GRONEAS
One word.
CHRYSTALLA
You lie beyond all modesty. Forbear me.
LEMOPHIL
130 I’ll make thee mistress of a city. ’Tis
Mine own by conquest.
CHRYSTALLA
By petition. Sue for’t
In forma pauperis.5 City? Kennel! Gallants,
Off with your feathers. Put on aprons,6 gallants.
Learn to reel,1 thrum,2 or trim a lady’s dog,
And be good, quiet souls of peace. Hobgoblins!3
LEMOPHIL
Chrystalla!
CHRYSTALLA
Practise to drill4 hogs in hope
To share in the acorns. Soldiers? Corn-cutters,5
But not so valiant: they oft-times draw blood,
Which you durst never do. When you have practised
140 More wit, or more civility, we’ll rank’ee
I’th’ list of men; till then, brave things-at-arms,
Dare not to speak to us. Most potent Groneas!
[She curtsies.]
PHILEMA
And Lemophil the hardy! [Curtseying] At your services.
Exeunt CHRYSTALLA and PHILEMA.
GRONEAS
They scorn us as they did before we went.
LEMOPHIL
Hang ’em! Let us scorn them and be revenged.
GRONEAS
Shall we?
LEMOPHIL
We will, and when we slight them thus,
Instead of following them, they’ll follow us;
It is a woman’s nature.
GRONEAS
’Tis a scurvy one. Exeunt.
Enter TECNICUS, a philosopher, and ORGILUS, disguised like a scholar of his [carrying a book].
TECNICUS
Tempt not the stars, young man. Thou canst not play
With the severity of fate. This change
Of habit, and disguise in outward view,
Hides not the secrets of thy soul within thee
From their quick-piercing eyes, which dive at all times
Down to thy thoughts. In thy aspect1 I note
A consequence2 of danger.
ORGILUS
Give me leave,
Grave Tecnicus, without fore-dooming3 destiny,
Under thy roof to ease my silent griefs
10 By applying to my hidden wounds the balm
Of thy oraculous lectures. If my fortune
Run such a crooked by-way as to wrest
My steps to ruin, yet thy learnèd precepts
Shall call me back, and set my footings straight.
I will not court the world.
TECNICUS
Ah, Orgilus,
Neglects in young men of delights and life
Run often to extremities. They care not
For harms to others who contemn4 their own.
But I, most learnèd artist,1 am not so much
Of any true deserver; nor doth malice3
Of present hopes so check them with despair
As that I yield to thought of more affliction
Than what is incident to frailty;4 wherefore,
Impute not this retirèd course of living
Some little time to any other cause
Than what I justly render: the information5
Of an unsettled mind, as the effect
Must clearly witness.
TECNICUS
Spirit of truth inspire thee!
30 On these conditions I conceal thy change,
And willingly admit thee for an auditor.
I’ll to my study.
ORGILUS
I to contemplations
In these delightful walks. [Exit TECNICUS.]
Thus metamorphosed,
I may, without suspicion, hearken after6
Penthea’s usage and Euphrania’s faith.
Love, thou art full of mystery! The deities
Themselves are not secure. In searching out
The secrets of those flames which, hidden, waste
A breast made tributary to7 the laws
40 Of beauty, physic yet hath never found
A remedy to cure a lover’s wound.
PROPHILUS passeth over [the stage], supporting
EUPHRANIA and whispering.
Ha? Who are those that cross yon private walk
Into the shadowing grove, in amorous foldings?1
My sister? Oh, my sister! ’Tis Euphrania
With Prophilus, supported too. I would
It were an apparition. Prophilus
Is Ithocles his friend. It strangely puzzles me.
Enter again PROPHILUS and EUPHRANIA.
Again? Help me, my book. This scholar’s habit
Must stand my privilege.2 My mind is busy;
Mine eyes and ears are open.
Walk[s] by, reading [then stands aside].
PROPHILUS
50 Do not waste
The span of this stol’n time, lent by the gods
For precious use, in niceness!3 Bright Euphrania,
Should I repeat old vows, or study new,
For purchase of belief to my desires –
ORGILUS [Aside]
Desires?
PROPHILUS
My service, my integrity –
ORGILUS [Aside]
That’s better.
PROPHILUS
ORGILUS [Aside]
So was mine
To my Penthea, chastely honourable.
PROPHILUS
60 Nor wants there more addition to my wish
Of happiness than having thee a wife,
Already sure of Ithocles, a friend
Firm and unalterable.
But a brother
More cruel than the grave.
EUPHRANIA
What can you look for
In answer to your noble protestations
From an unskilful1 maid but language suited
To a divided mind?
ORGILUS [Aside]
Hold out, Euphrania.
EUPHRANIA
Know, Prophilus, I never undervalued –
From the first time you mentioned worthy love –
70 Your merit, means or person. It had been
A fault of judgement in me, and a dullness
In my affections, not to weigh and thank
My better stars that offered me the grace
Of so much blissfulness. For, to speak truth,
The law2 of my desires kept equal pace
With yours, nor have I left that resolution;
But only, in a word, whatever choice3
Lives nearest in my heart must first procure
Consent both from my father and my brother,
Ere he can own me his.
ORGILUS [Aside]
80 She is forsworn else.
PROPHILUS
Leave me that task.
EUPHRANIA
My brother, ere he parted
To Athens, had my oath.
ORGILUS [Aside]
Yes, yes, ’a had, sure.
PROPHILUS
I doubt not, with the means the court supplies,
But to prevail at pleasure.
Very likely.
PROPHILUS
Meantime, best, dearest, I may build my hopes
On the foundation of thy constant suff’rance1
In any opposition?
EUPHRANIA
Death shall sooner
Divorce life and the joys I have in living
Than my chaste vows from truth.
PROPHILUS
ORGILUS [Aside]
EUPHRANIA [startled]
Sir, we are overheard!
Cupid protect us! ’Twas a stirring, sir,
Of someone near.
PROPHILUS
Your fears are needless, lady.
None have access into these private pleasures,4
Except some near in court, or bosom-student
From Tecnicus his oratory,5 granted
By special favour lately from the King
Unto the grave philosopher.
EUPHRANIA
100 Methinks
I hear one talking to himself. I see him!
’Tis a poor scholar, as I told you, lady.
ORGILUS [Aside]
I am discovered. [Aloud]1 Say it: is it possible
With a smooth tongue, a leering countenance,
Flattery or force of reason – I come t’ee, sir –
To turn or to appease the raging sea?
Answer to that. – Your art? What art to catch
And hold fast in a net the sun’s small atoms?
No, no, they’ll out, they’ll out. Ye may as easily
110 Out-run a cloud, driven by a northern blast,
As fiddle-faddle2 so. Peace, or speak sense.
EUPHRANIA
Call you this thing a scholar? ’Las, he’s lunatic.
PROPHILUS
Observe him, sweet; ’tis but his recreation.
ORGILUS
But will you hear a little? You are so tetchy.
You keep no rule in argument. Philosophy
Works not upon impossibilities
But natural conclusions. – Mew!3 Absurd!
The metaphysics are but speculations4
Of the celestial bodies, or such accidents
120 As, not mixed perfectly, in the air engendered,
Appear to us unnatural; that’s all.
Prove it. – Yet, with a reverence to your gravity,
I’ll balk5 illiterate6 sauciness, submitting
My sole opinion to the touch7 of writers.
[He consults his book.]
Now let us fall in with him.
ORGILUS
Ha, ha, ha!
These apish boys, when they but taste the grammates1
And principles of theory, imagine
They can oppose their teachers. Confidence
Leads many into errors.
PROPHILUS [To ORGILUS]
By your leave, sir.
EUPHRANIA
Are you a scholar, friend?
ORGILUS
130 I am, gay creature,
With pardon of your deities, a mushroom
On whom the dew of heaven drops now and then.
The sun shines on me too, I thank his beams.
Sometime I feel their warmth, and eat and sleep.
PROPHILUS
Does Tecnicus read to2 thee?
ORGILUS
Yes, forsooth,
He is my master, surely. Yonder door
Opens upon his study.
PROPHILUS
Happy creatures!
Such people toil not, sweet, in heats of state,
Nor sink in thaws of greatness. Their affections
140 Keep order with the limits of their modesty.3
Their love is love of virtue. – What’s thy name?
ORGILUS
Aplotes, sumptuous master, a poor wretch.
Dost thou want1 anything?
ORGILUS
Books, Venus, books.
PROPHILUS
EUPHRANIA
My lord?
PROPHILUS
Whiles I endeavour to deserve
Your father’s blessing to our loves, this scholar
May daily, at some certain hours, attend
What notice I can write of my success,
150 Here in this grove, and give it to your hands;
The like from you to me. So can we never,
Barred of our mutual speech, want sure intelligence,4
And thus our hearts may talk when our tongues cannot.
EUPHRANIA
Occasion is most favourable; use it.
PROPHILUS
Aplotes, wilt thou wait us twice a day,
At nine i’th’ morning and at four at night,
Here in this bower, to convey such letters
As each shall send to other? Do it willingly,
Safely and secretly, and I will furnish
160 Thy study, or what else thou canst desire.
ORGILUS
Jove make me thankful! Thankful, I beseech thee,
Propitious Jove! I will prove sure and trusty.
You will not fail me books?
PROPHILUS
Nor aught besides
Thy heart can wish. This lady’s name’s Euphrania,
Mine Prophilus.
I have a pretty1 memory;
It must prove my best friend. I will not miss
One minute of the hours appointed.
PROPHILUS
Write
The books thou wouldst have bought thee in a note,
Or take thyself some money.
ORGILUS
No, no money.
170 Money to scholars is a spirit invisible;
We dare not finger it – or books or nothing.
PROPHILUS
Books of what sort thou wilt. Do not forget
Our names.
ORGILUS
I warrant ’ee, I warrant ’ee.
PROPHILUS
Smile, Hymen, on the growth of our desires.
We’ll feed thy torches with eternal fires.
Exeunt [PROPHILUS and EUPHRANIA].
ORGILUS
Put out thy torches, Hymen, or their light
Shall meet a darkness of eternal night.
Inspire me, Mercury,2 with swift deceits.
Ingenious fate has leapt into mine arms,
180 Beyond the compass of my brain. Mortality
Creeps on the dung of earth, and cannot reach3
The riddles which are purposed by the gods.
Great acts best write themselves in their own stories;
They die too basely who outlive their glories. Exit.
Enter BASSANES and PHULAS.
BASSANES
I’ll have that window next the street dammed up.
It gives too full a prospect to temptation,1
And courts a gazer’s glances. There’s a lust
Committed by the eye that sweats and travails,
Plots, wakes, contrives, till the deformed bear-whelp,
Adultery, be licked into the act,2
The very act. That light3 shall be dammed up –
D’ee hear, sir?
PHULAS
I do hear, my lord. A mason
Shall be provided suddenly.4
BASSANES
Some rogue,
10 Some rogue of your confederacy – factor5
For slaves and strumpets – to convey close packets6
From this spruce springal7 and the t’other youngster,
That gaudy earwig,8 or my lord, your patron,
Whose pensioner9 you are. I’ll tear thy throat out –
Son of a cat, ill-looking hound’s-head – rip up
Thy ulcerous maw,10 if I but scent a paper,
A scroll, but half as big as what can cover
A wart upon thy nose, a spot, a pimple,
Directed to my lady. It may prove
20 A mystical1 preparative to lewdness.
PHULAS
Care shall be had. I will turn every thread
About me to an eye.2 [Aside] Here’s a sweet life!
BASSANES
The city housewives,3 cunning in the traffic4
Of chamber-merchandise, set all at price
By wholesale;5 yet they wipe their mouths and simper,
Cull,6 kiss and cry ‘Sweetheart!’, and stroke the head
Which they have branched,7 and all is well again.
Dull clods of dirt, who dare not feel the rubs8
Stuck on their foreheads!
PHULAS
’Tis a villainous world.
One cannot hold his own in’t.
BASSANES
30 Dames at court,
Who flaunt in riots,9 run another bias.10
Their pleasure heaves11 the patient ass that suffers12
Upon the stilts of office, titles, incomes.
Promotion justifies the shame, and sues for’t.
Poor Honour, thou art stabbed and bleed’st to death
By such unlawful hire.13 The country mistress
Is yet more wary, and in blushes hides
Whatever trespass draws her troth to guilt.
But all are false. On this truth I am bold:
40 No woman but can fall, and doth, or would.
Now for the newest news about the city –
What blab the voices, sirrah?
PHULAS
O my lord,
The rarest, quaintest, strangest, tickling news
That ever –
BASSANES
PHULAS
Forsooth, they say the King has mewed3
All his grey beard, instead of which is budded
Another of a pure carnation4 colour,
Speckled with green and russet.
BASSANES
Ignorant block!
PHULAS
50 Yes, truly; and ’tis talked about the streets
That since Lord Ithocles came home, the lions
Never left roaring, at which noise the bears
Have danced their very hearts out.
BASSANES
Dance out thine, too.
PHULAS
BASSANES
Grant it, Apollo!
Moreover, please your lordship, ’tis reported
For certain that whoever is found jealous,
Without apparent proof that’s1 wife is wanton,
60 Shall be divorced. But this is but she-news:
I had it from a midwife. I have more yet.
BASSANES
Antic,2 no more! Idiots and stupid fools
Grate3 my calamities. Why to be fair
Should yield presumption of a faulty soul –
Look to the doors.
PHULAS [Aside]
The horn of plenty crest him!4 Exit PHULAS.
BASSANES
Swarms of confusion huddle in my thoughts
In rare distemper. Beauty? Oh, it is
An unmatched blessing or a horrid curse.
Enter PENTHEA and GRAUSIS, an old lady.
She comes, she comes! So shoots the morning forth,
70 Spangled with pearls of transparent dew!
The way to poverty is to be rich,
As I in her am wealthy; but for her,
In all contents a bankrupt. – Loved Penthea,
How fares my heart’s best joy?
GRAUSIS
In sooth, not well;
She is so over-sad.
BASSANES
Leave chattering, magpie.
To PENTHEA] Thy brother is returned, sweet, safe, and honoured
With a triumphant victory. Thou shalt visit him.
We will to court, where, if it be thy pleasure,
Thou shalt appear in such a ravishing lustre
80 Of jewels above value that the dames
Who brave it1 there, in rage to be outshined,
Shall hide them in their closets,2 and unseen
Fret in their tears, whiles every wond’ring eye
Shall crave none other brightness but thy presence.
Choose thine own recreations. Be a queen
Of what delights thou fanciest best, what company,
What place, what times. Do anything, do all things
Youth can command, so thou wilt chase these clouds
From the pure firmament of thy fair looks.
GRAUSIS
90 Now ’tis well said, my lord. What, lady? Laugh!
Be merry! Time is precious.
BASSANES [Aside to GRAUSIS]
Furies3 whip thee!
PENTHEA
Alas, my lord, this language to your handmaid
Sounds as would music to the deaf. I need
No braveries4 nor cost of art to draw
The whiteness of my name into offence.
Let such – if any such there are – who covet
A curiosity5 of admiration,
By laying out their plenty to full view,
Appear in gaudy outsides. My attires
100 Shall suit the inward fashion of my mind;
From which, if your opinion, nobly placed,
Change not the livery6 your words bestow,
My fortunes with my hopes are at the highest.
BASSANES
This house, methinks, stands somewhat too much inward.7
It is too melancholy. We’ll remove
Nearer the court; or what thinks my Penthea
Of the delightful island we command?
Rule me as thou canst wish.
PENTHEA
I am no mistress.
Whither you please, I must attend. All ways
Are alike pleasant to me.
GRAUSIS
110 Island? Prison!
A prison is as gaysome. We’ll no islands.
Marry, out upon ’em! Whom shall we see there?
Seagulls and porpoises and water-rats
And crabs and mews1 and dogfish! Goodly gear
For a young lady’s dealing, or an old one’s.
On no terms, islands; I’ll be stewed2 first.
BASSANES [Aside]
Grausis,
You are a juggling3 bawd. [To PENTHEA] This sadness, sweetest,
Becomes not youthful blood. [Aside to GRAUSIS] I’ll have you pounded!4
[To PENTHEA] For my sake, put on a more cheerful mirth.
120 Thou’lt mar thy cheeks, and make me old in griefs.
[Aside to GRAUSIS] Damnable bitch-fox!
GRAUSIS
I am thick of
hearing
Still,5 when the wind blows southerly. What think ’ee
If your fresh lady breed young bones, my lord?
Would not a chopping6 boy d’ee good at heart?
But, as you said –
I’ll spit thee on a stake,
Or chop thee into collops!1
GRAUSIS
Pray, speak louder.
Sure, sure, the wind blows south still.
PENTHEA
Thou prat’st madly.
BASSANES
PHULAS
A herd of lords, sir.
BASSANES
Ha?
PHULAS
A flock of ladies.
BASSANES
Where?
PHULAS
Shoals of horses.
BASSANES
Peasant, how?
PHULAS
Enter PROPHILUS, LEMOPHIL, GRONEAS, CHRYSTALLA and PHILEMA.
PROPHILUS
Noble Bassanes.
Most welcome, Prophilus. Ladies, gentlemen,
To all my heart is open. You all honour me –
[Aside] A tympany1 swells in my head already –
[Aloud] Honour me bountifully. [Aside] How they flutter,
Wagtails and jays2 together!
PROPHILUS [To PENTHEA]
From your brother,
By virtue of your love to him, I require
Your instant presence, fairest.
PENTHEA
He is well, sir?
PROPHILUS
140 The gods preserve him ever. Yet, dear beauty,
I find some alteration in him lately,
Since his return to Sparta. – My good lord,
I pray, use no delay.
BASSANES
We had not needed
An invitation if his sister’s health
Had not fallen into question. – Haste, Penthea;
Slack not a minute. Lead the way, good Prophilus;
I’ll follow step by step.
PROPHILUS
Your arm, fair madam.
Exeunt all except BASSANES and GRAUSIS.
BASSANES
One word with your old bawdship. Th’hadst been better
Railed at the sins thou worshipp’st3 than have thwarted
My will. I’ll use thee cursedly.
150 You dote.
You are beside yourself. A politician1
In jealousy? No, y’are too gross, too vulgar.
Pish, teach not me my trade. I know my cue.
My crossing you sinks me into her trust,
By which I shall know all. My trade’s a sure one.
BASSANES
Forgive me, Grausis. ’Twas consideration
I relished not.2 But have a care now.
GRAUSIS
Fear not,
I am no new-come to’t.
BASSANES
Thy life’s upon it,
And so is mine. My agonies are infinite! Exeunt.
Enter ITHOCLES, alone.
ITHOCLES
Ambition? ’Tis of viper’s breed: it gnaws
A passage through the womb that gave it motion.3
Ambition, like a seelèd dove,4 mounts upward,
Higher and higher still, to perch on clouds,
But tumbles headlong down with heavier ruin.
So squibs and crackers5 fly into the air.
Then, only breaking with a noise, they vanish
In stench and smoke. Morality, applied
To timely practice,1 keeps the soul in tune,
10 At whose sweet music all our actions dance.
But this is form of books and school-tradition;
It physics not the sickness of a mind
Broken with griefs. Strong fevers are not eased
With counsel, but with best receipts2 and means,
Means, speedy means and certain; that’s the cure.
Enter ARMOSTES and CROTOLON.
ARMOSTES
You stick, Lord Crotolon, upon a point
Too nice3 and too unnecessary. Prophilus
Is every way desertful. I am confident
Your wisdom is too ripe to need instruction
From your son’s tutelage.
CROTOLON
20 Yet not so ripe,
My lord Armostes, that it dares to dote
Upon the painted meat4 of smooth persuasion,
Which tempts me to a breach of faith.
ITHOCLES
Not yet
Resolved, my lord? Why, if your son’s consent
Be so available,5 we’ll write to Athens
For his repair to Sparta. The King’s hand
Will join with our desires. He has been moved to’t.
ARMOSTES
Yes, and the King himself importuned Crotolon
For a dispatch.
CROTOLON
Kings may command. Their wills
Are laws not to be questioned.
ITHOCLES
30 By this marriage
You knit an union so devout, so hearty,
Between your loves to me and mine to yours,
As if mine own blood had an interest in it;
For Prophilus is mine, and I am his.
CROTOLON
My lord, my lord –
ITHOCLES
What, good sir? Speak your thought.
CROTOLON
Had this sincerity been real once,
My Orgilus had not been now un-wived,
Nor your lost sister buried in a bride-bed.
Your uncle here, Armostes, knows this truth;
40 For had your father, Thrasus, lived – but peace
Dwell in his grave. I have done.
ARMOSTES
Y’are bold and bitter.
ITHOCLES
’A presses home the injury; it smarts.
[To ARMOSTES] No reprehensions, uncle, I deserve ’em.
[To CROTOLON] Yet, gentle sir, consider what the heat
Of an unsteady youth, a giddy brain,
Green indiscretion, flattery of greatness,
Rawness of judgement, wilfulness in folly,
Thoughts vagrant as the wind and as uncertain,
Might lead a boy in years to. ’Twas a fault,
50 A capital1 fault. For then I could not dive
Into the secrets of commanding love.
Since when, experience – by the extremities in others –
Hath forced me to collect;2 and trust me, Crotolon,
I will redeem those wrongs with any service
Your satisfaction can require for current.3
ARMOSTES
Thy acknowledgement is satisfaction.
[To CROTOLON] What would you more?
ITHOCLES
Use my fortunes;
60 Life, power, sword, and heart, all are your own.
Enter BASSANES, PROPHILUS, CALANTHA, PENTHEA, EUPHRANIA, CHRYSTALLA, PHILEMA and GRAUSIS.
ARMOSTES
The Princess, with your sister.
CALANTHA [leading forward PENTHEA]
I present ’ee
A stranger here in court, my lord. For did not
Desire of seeing you draw her abroad,
We had not been made happy in her company.
ITHOCLES
You are a gracious princess. – Sister, wedlock
Holds too severe a passion in your nature
Which can engross all duty to your husband,
Without attendance on so dear a mistress.
’Tis not my brother’s2 pleasure, I presume,
T’immure her in a chamber?
BASSANES
70 ’Tis her will.
She governs her own hours. Noble Ithocles,
We thank the gods for your success and welfare.
Our lady has of late been indisposed,
Else we had waited on you with the first.
ITHOCLES
How does Penthea now?
PENTHEA
You best know, brother,
From whom my health and comfort are derived.
I like the answer well: ’tis sad1 and modest.
There may be tricks yet, tricks. – Have an eye, Grausis.
CALANTHA
Now, Crotolon, the suit we joined in must not
Fall by too long demur.2
CROTOLON
80 ’Tis granted, Princess,
For my part.
ARMOSTES
With condition that his son
Favour the contract.
CALANTHA
Such delay is easy.
The joys of marriage make thee, Prophilus,
A proud deserver of Euphrania’s love,
And her of thy desert.
PROPHILUS [bowing]
Most sweetly gracious.
BASSANES
The joys of marriage are the heaven on earth.
Life’s paradise, great Princess, the soul’s quiet,
Sinews of concord, earthly immortality,
Eternity of pleasures – no restoratives
90 Like to a constant woman. [Aside] But where is she?
’Twould puzzle all the gods but to create
Such a new monster. [Aloud] I can speak by proof,
For I rest in Elysium; ’tis my happiness.
CROTOLON
Euphrania, how are you resolved – speak freely –
In your affections to this gentleman?
EUPHRANIA
Nor more nor less than as his love assures me,3
Which, if your liking with my brother’s warrants,
I cannot but approve in all points worthy.
So, so, I know your answer.
ITHOCLES
’T had been pity
100 To sunder hearts so equally consented.
Enter LEMOPHIL.
LEMOPHIL
The King, Lord Ithocles, commands your presence;
And, fairest Princess, yours.
CALANTHA
We will attend him.
Enter GRONEAS.
GRONEAS
Where are the lords? All must unto the King
Without delay. The Prince of Argos1 –
CALANTHA
Well, sir?
GRONEAS
Is coming to the court, sweet lady.
CALANTHA
How!
The Prince of Argos?
GRONEAS
’Twas my fortune, madam,
T’enjoy the honour of these happy tidings.
ITHOCLES
Penthea.
PENTHEA
Brother?
ITHOCLES
Let me an hour hence
Meet you alone within the palace grove.
110 I have some secret with you. [To PROPHILUS] Prithee, friend,
Conduct her thither, and have special care
The walks be cleared of any to disturb us.
I shall.
BASSANES [Aside]
How’s that?
ITHOCLES
Alone, pray be alone.
[To CALANTHA] I am your creature, Princess. – On, my lords!
Exeunt [all except BASSANES].
BASSANES
‘Alone’, ‘alone’? What means that word ‘alone’?
Why might not I be there? Hum! He’s her brother.
Brothers and sisters are but flesh and blood,
And this same whoreson court-ease1 is temptation
To a rebellion in the veins. Besides,
120 His fine friend, Prophilus, must be her guardian.
Why may not he dispatch a business2 nimbly
Before the other come? Or pand’ring, pand’ring
For one another, be’t to sister, mother,
Wife, cousin, anything, ’mongst youths of mettle
Is in request.3 It is so. Stubborn fate!
But if I be a cuckold, and can know it,
I will be fell4 and fell.
Enter GRONEAS.
GRONEAS
My lord, y’are called for.
BASSANES
Most heartily, I thank ye. Where’s my wife, pray?
GRONEAS
Retired amongst the ladies.
BASSANES
Still I thank ’ee.
130 There’s an old waiter5 with her. Saw you her too?
She sits i’th’ presence-lobby1 fast asleep, sir.
BASSANES
Asleep? Sleep, sir?
GRONEAS
Is your lordship troubled?
You will not to the King?
BASSANES
Your humblest vassal.
GRONEAS
Your servant, my good lord.
BASSANES
I wait2 your footsteps. Exeunt.
[Enter] PROPHILUS [and] PENTHEA.
PROPHILUS
In this walk, lady, will your brother find you;
And, with your favour, give me leave a little
To work a preparation.3 In his fashion4
I have observed of late some kind of slackness
To such alacrity as nature
And custom took delight in. Sadness grows
Upon his recreations, which he hoards
In such a willing5 silence, that to question
The grounds will argue little skill in friendship,
And less good manners.
10 Sir, I’m not inquisitive
Of secrecies without an invitation.
PROPHILUS
With pardon, lady, not a syllable
Of mine implies so rude a sense. The drift –
Enter ORGILUS [disguised as Aplotes].
[To ORGILUS]
Do thy best
To make this lady merry for an hour.
ORGILUS
Your will shall be a law, sir. Exit [PROPHILUS].
PENTHEA
ORGILUS
Speak on, fair nymph. Our souls
Can dance as well to music of the spheres2
20 As any’s who have feasted with the gods.
PENTHEA
Your school-terms3 are too troublesome.
ORGILUS
What heaven
Refines mortality from dross of earth,
But such as uncompounded beauty hallows
With glorified perfection?4
PENTHEA
Set thy wits
In a less wild proportion.5
Time can never
On the white table of unguilty faith
Write counterfeit dishonour. Turn those eyes,
The arrows of pure love, upon that fire
Which once rose to a flame, perfumed with vows
30 As sweetly scented as the incense smoking
The holiest altars. Virgin tears, like those
On Vesta’s odours, sprinkled dews to feed ’em
And to increase their fervour.1
PENTHEA
Be not frantic.
ORGILUS
All pleasures are but mere imagination,
Feeding the hungry appetite with steam
And sight of banquet, whilst the body pines,
Not relishing the real taste of food.
Such is the leanness of a heart divided
From intercourse of troth-contracted loves.
40 No horror should deface that precious figure,
Sealed with the lively stamp of equal2 souls.
PENTHEA
Away! Some fury hath bewitched thy tongue.
The breath of ignorance that flies from thence
Ripens a knowledge in me of afflictions
Above all suff’rance. Thing of talk, be gone!
Be gone without reply!
ORGILUS
Be just, Penthea,
In thy commands. When thou send’st forth a doom
Of banishment, know first on whom it lights.
Thus I take off the shroud in which my cares
[He removes his disguise.]
What is thy sentence next?
PENTHEA
Rash man, thou layest
A blemish on mine honour with the hazard
Of thy too-desperate life. Yet I profess,
By all the laws of ceremonious wedlock,
I have not given admittance to one thought
Of female change,1 since cruelty enforced
Divorce betwixt my body and my heart.
Why would you fall from goodness thus?
ORGILUS
Oh, rather
Examine me how I could live to say
60 I have been much, much wronged. ’Tis for thy sake
I put on this imposture. Dear Penthea,
If thy soft bosom be not turned to marble,
Thou’lt pity our calamities. My interest2
Confirms me thou art mine still.
PENTHEA
Lend your hand.
With both of mine I clasp it thus, thus kiss it,
Thus kneel before ye.
[She kneels.]
ORGILUS
You instruct my duty.3
[He kneels.]
PENTHEA
We may stand up.
[They rise.]
Have you aught else to urge
Of new demand? As for the old, forget it.
’Tis buried in an everlasting silence,
70 And shall be, shall be ever. What more would ye?
I would possess my wife! The equity
Of very reason bids me.
PENTHEA
Is that all?
ORGILUS
Why, ’tis the all of me, myself.
PENTHEA
Remove
Your steps some distance from me. At this space
A few words I dare change,1 but first put on
Your borrowed shape.
[He resumes his disguise.]
ORGILUS
You are obeyed; ’tis done.
PENTHEA
How, Orgilus, by promise I was thine
The heavens do witness. They can witness too
A rape done on my truth. How I do love thee
80 Yet, Orgilus, and yet, must best appear
In tendering2 thy freedom. For I find
The constant preservation of thy merit
By thy not daring to attempt my fame3
With injury of any loose conceit,4
Which might give deeper wounds to discontents.
Continue this fair race.5 Then, though I cannot
Add to thy comfort, yet I shall more often
Remember from what fortune I am fallen,
And pity mine own ruin. Live, live happy –
90 Happy in thy next choice, that thou may’st people
This barren age6 with virtues in thy issue.
And oh, when thou art married, think on me
With mercy, not contempt. I hope thy wife,
Hearing my story, will not scorn my fall.
Now let us part.
ORGILUS
Part? Yet advise thee better:
Penthea is the wife to Orgilus,
And ever shall be.
PENTHEA
Never shall nor will.
ORGILUS
How!
PENTHEA
Hear me: in a word I’ll tell thee why.
The virgin-dowry which my birth bestowed
100 Is ravished by another. My true love
Abhors to think that Orgilus deserved
No better favours than a second bed.
ORGILUS
I must not take this reason.
PENTHEA
To confirm it:
Should I outlive my bondage, let me meet
Another worse than this – and less desired –
If, of all the men alive, thou shouldst but touch
My lip or hand again.
ORGILUS
Penthea, now
I tell ’ee you grow wanton in my sufferance.1
Come, sweet, th’art mine!
[He tries to embrace her.]
PENTHEA
Uncivil sir, forbear,
110 Or I can turn affection into vengeance!
Your reputation, if you value any,
Lies bleeding at my feet. Unworthy man,
If ever henceforth thou appear in language,
Message, or letter to betray my frailty,
I’ll call thy former protestations lust,
And curse my stars for forfeit of my judgement.1
Go thou, fit only for disguise and walks2
To hide thy shame. This once I spare thy life.
I laugh at mine own confidence. My sorrows
120 By thee are made inferior to my fortunes.3
If ever thou didst harbour worthy love,
Dare not to answer. My good genius4 guide me,
That I may never see thee more. Go from me!
ORGILUS
I’ll tear my veil of politic frenzy5 off,
And stand up like a man resolved to do.
Action, not words, shall show me.6 O Penthea!
Exit ORGILUS.
PENTHEA
’A sighed my name, sure, as he parted from me.
I fear I was too rough. Alas, poor gentleman,
’A looked not like the ruins of his youth,
130 But like the ruins of those ruins. Honour,
How much we fight with weakness to preserve thee!
Enter BASSANES and GRAUSIS.
BASSANES
Fie on thee! Damn thee, rotten maggot, damn thee!
Sleep? Sleep at court? And now? Aches, convulsions,
Impostumes,7 rheums,8 gouts, palsies9 clog thy bones
A dozen years more yet!
GRAUSIS
Now y’are in humours.10
She’s by herself. There’s hope of that. She’s sad, too.
She’s in strong contemplation, yes, and fixed.1
The signs are wholesome.
GRAUSIS
Very wholesome, truly.
BASSANES
Hold your chops,2 nightmare! [To PENTHEA] Lady, come.
Your brother
140 Is carried to his closet. You must thither.
PENTHEA
Not well, my lord?
BASSANES
A sudden fit, ’twill off –
Some surfeit or disorder. How dost, dearest?
PENTHEA
Your news is none o’th’ best.
Enter PROPHILUS.
PROPHILUS
The chief of men,
The excellentest Ithocles, desires
Your presence, madam.
BASSANES
We are hasting to him.
PENTHEA
In vain we labour in this course of life
To piece our journey out at length, or crave
Respite of breath. Our home is in the grave.
BASSANES
Perfect philosophy!
PENTHEA