Chapter XCV: Act II: Scene I.3335

_Enter_ EVADNE, ASPATIA, DULA, _and other_ Ladies.

_Dula._ Madam, shall we undress you for this fight?
The wars are nak’d that you must make tonight.

_Evad._ You are very merry, Dula.

_Dula._ I should be
Far merrier, madam, if it were with me
As it is with you.

_Evad._ How ’s that?

_Dula._ That I might go 5
To bed with him wi’ th’ credit that you do.

_Evad._ Why, how now, wench?

_Dula._ Come, ladies, will you help?

_Evad._ I am soon undone.

_Dula._ And as soon done:
Good store of clothes will trouble you at both.

_Evad._ Art thou drunk, Dula?

_Dula._ Why, here ’s none but we. 10

_Evad._ Thou think ’st belike there is no modesty
When we’re alone.

_Dula._ Ay, by my troth, you hit my thoughts aright.

_Evad._ You prick me, lady.

_1 Lady._ ’T is against my will.

_Dula._ Anon you must endure more and lie still; 15
You ’re best to practise.

_Evad._ Sure, this wench is mad.

_Dula._ No, faith, this is a trick that I have had
Since I was fourteen.

_Evad._ ’T is high time to leave it.

_Dula._ Nay, now I ’ll keep it till the trick leave me.
A dozen wanton words put in your head 20
Will make you livelier in your husband’s bed.

_Evad._ Nay, faith, then take it.[3336]

_Dula._ Take it, madam! Where?
We all, I hope, will take it that are here.

_Evad._ Nay, then I ’ll give you o’er.

_Dula._ So will I make
The ablest man in Rhodes, or his heart ache. 25

_Evad._ Wilt take my place to-night?

_Dula._ I ’ll hold your cards
Against any two I know.

_Evad._ What wilt thou do?

_Dula._ Madam, we ’ll do ’t, and make ’em leave play too.

_Evad._ Aspatia, take her part.

_Dula._ I will refuse it:
She will pluck down a side;[3337] she does not use it. 30

_Evad._ Why, do, I prithee.

_Dula._ You will find the play
Quickly, because your head lies well that way.

_Evad._ I thank thee, Dula. Would thou couldst instil
Some of thy mirth into Aspatia!
Nothing but sad thoughts in her breast do dwell: 35
Methinks, a mean betwixt you would do well.

_Dula._ She is in love: hang me, if I were so,
But I could run[3338] my country. I love too
To do those things that people in love do.

_Asp._ It were a timeless[3339] smile should prove my cheek. 40
It were a fitter hour for me to laugh,
When at the altar the religious priest
Were pacifying the offended powers
With sacrifice, than now. This should have been
My rite;[3340] and all your hands have been employ’d 45
In giving me a spotless offering
To young Amintor’s bed, as we are now
For you. Pardon, Evadne: would my worth
Were great as yours, or that the King, or he,
Or both, thought so! Perhaps he found me worthless: 50
But till he did so, in these ears of mine,
These credulous ears, he pour’d the sweetest words
That art or love could frame. If he were false,
Pardon it, Heaven! and, if I did want
Virtue, you safely may forgive that too; 55
For I have lost none that I had from you.

_Evad._ Nay, leave this sad talk, madam.

_Asp._ Would I could!
Then I should leave the cause.

_Evad._ See, if you have not spoil’d all Dula’s mirth!

_Asp._ Thou think ’st thy heart hard; but, if thou be’st caught, 60
Remember me; thou shalt perceive a fire
Shot suddenly into thee.

_Dula._ That ’s not so good;
Let ’em shoot anything but fire, I fear ’em not.

_Asp._ Well, wench, thou may’st be taken.

_Evad._ Ladies, good-night; I ’ll do the rest myself. 65

_Dula._ Nay, let your lord do some.

_Asp._ [_singing._]
Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew—

_Evad._ That ’s one of your sad songs, madam.

_Asp._ Believe me, ’t is a very pretty one. 70

_Evad._ How is it, madam?

_Asp._ [_singing._]
Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew;
Maidens, willow-branches bear;
Say I died true. 75
My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth:
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth!

_Evad._ Fie on ’t, madam! The words are so strange, they 80
Are able to make one dream of hobgoblins.—
“I could never have the power”—sing that, Dula.

_Dula._ [singing.]
I could never have the power
To love one above an hour,
But my heart would prompt mine eye 85
On some other man to fly.
Venus, fix mine eyes fast,
Or, if not, give me all that I shall see at last!

_Evad._ So, leave me now.

_Dula._ Nay, we must see you laid. 90

_Asp._ Madam, good night. May all the marriage-joys
That longing maids imagine in their beds
Prove so unto you! May no discontent
Grow ’twixt your love and you! but, if there do,
Inquire of me, and I will guide your moan; 95
Teach you an artificial[3341] way to grieve,
To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord
No worse than I; but, if you love so well,
Alas, you may displease him! so did I.
This is the last time you shall look on me.— 100
Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead,
Come all and watch one night about my hearse;
Bring each a mournful story and a tear,
To offer at it when I go to earth;
With flattering ivy clasp my coffin round; 105
Write on my brow my fortune; let my bier
Be borne by virgins, that shall sing by course[3342]
The truth of maids and perjuries of men.

_Evad._ Alas, I pity thee.

_All._ Madam, good night. _Exit_ EVADNE.

_1 Lady._ Come, we ’ll let in the bridegroom.

_Dula._ Where’s my lord? 110

_1 Lady._ Here, take this light.

_Enter_ AMINTOR.

_Dula._ You ’ll find her in the dark.

_1 Lady._ Your lady ’s scarce a-bed yet; you must help her.

_Asp._ Go, and be happy in your lady’s love.
May all the wrongs that you have done to me
Be utterly forgotten in my death! 115
I ’ll trouble you no more; yet I will take
A parting kiss, and will not be denied. [_Kisses_ AMINTOR.]
You ’ll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep
When I am laid in earth, though you yourself
Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself 120
Into this willow-garland, and am prouder
That I was once your love, though now refus’d,
Than to have had another true to me.
So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
Some yet unpractis’d way to grieve and die. _Exit._ 125

_Dula._ Come, ladies, will you go?

_All._ Good night, my lord.

_Amin._ Much happiness unto you all! _Exeunt_ [DULA _and_] Ladies.
I did that lady wrong. Methinks, I feel
A grief shoot suddenly through all my veins;
Mine eyes rain: this is strange at such a time. 130
It was the King first mov’d me to ’t; but he
Has not my will in keeping. Why do I
Perplex myself thus? Something whispers me,
Go not to bed. My guilt is not so great
As mine own conscience, too sensible, 135
Would make me think; I only brake a promise,
And ’t was the King that forc’d me. Timorous flesh,
Why shak’st thou so? Away, my idle fears!
_Re-enter_ EVADNE.
Yonder she is, the lustre of whose eye
Can blot away the sad remembrance 140
Of all these things.—Oh, my Evadne, spare
That tender body; let it not take cold!
The vapours of the night will not fall here.
To bed, my love: Hymen will punish us
For being slack performers of his rites. 145
Cam’st thou to call me?

_Evad._ No.

_Amin._ Come, come, my love,
And let us lose ourselves to one another.
Why art thou up so long?

_Evad._ I am not well.

_Amin._ To bed then; let me wind thee in these arms
Till I have banisht sickness.

_Evad._ Good my lord, 150
I cannot sleep.

_Amin._ Evadne, we will watch;
I mean no sleeping.

_Evad._ I ’ll not go to bed.

_Amin._ I prithee, do.

_Evad._ I will not for the world.

_Amin._ Why, my dear love?

_Evad._ Why! I have sworn I will not.

_Amin._ Sworn!

_Evad._ Ay.

_Amin._ How? Sworn, Evadne! 155

_Evad._ Yes, sworn, Amintor; and will swear again,
If you will wish to hear me.

_Amin._ To whom have you sworn this?

_Evad._ If I should name him, the matter were not great.

_Amin._ Come, this is but the coyness of a bride. 160

_Evad._ The coyness of the bride!

_Amin._ How prettily
That frown becomes thee!

_Evad._ Do you like it so?

_Amin._ Thou canst not dress thy face in such a look
But I shall like it.

_Evad._ What look likes[3343] you best?

_Amin._ Why do you ask? 165

_Evad._ That I may show you one less pleasing to you.

_Amin._ How ’s that?

_Evad._ That I may show you one less pleasing to you.

_Amin._ I prithee, put thy jests in milder looks;
It shows as thou wert angry.

_Evad._ So perhaps 170
I am indeed.

_Amin._ Why, who has done thee wrong?
Name me the man, and by thyself I swear,
Thy yet unconquered self, I will revenge thee!

_Evad._ Now I shall try thy truth. If thou dost love me,
Thou weigh’st not anything compar’d with me: 175
Life, honour, joys eternal, all delights
This world can yield, or hopeful people feign,
Or in the life to come, are light as air
To a true lover when his lady frowns,
And bids him, “Do this.” Wilt thou kill this man? 180
Swear, my Amintor, and I ’ll kiss the sin
Off from thy lips.

_Amin._ I wo’ not swear, sweet love.
Till I do know the cause.

_Evad._ I would thou wouldst.
Why, it is thou that wrong’st me; I hate thee;
Thou should’st have kill’d thyself. 185

_Amin._ If I should know that, I should quickly kill
The man you hated.

_Evad._ Know it, then, and do ’t.

_Amin._ Oh, no! what look soe’er thou shalt put on
To try my faith, I shall not think thee false;
I cannot find one blemish in thy face, 190
Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to bed.
If you have sworn to any of the virgins
That were your old companions, to preserve
Your maidenhead a night, it may be done
Without this means.

_Evad._ A maidenhead, Amintor, 195
At my years!

_Amin._ Sure she raves; this cannot be
Her natural temper.—Shall I call thy maids?
Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long,
Or else some fever rages in thy blood.

_Evad._ Neither, Amintor: think you I am mad, 200
Because I speak the truth?

_Amin._ [Is this the truth?][3344]
Will you not lie with me to-night?

_Evad._ To-night!
You talk as if [you thought][3344] I would hereafter.

_Amin._ Hereafter! yes, I do.

_Evad._ You are deceiv’d.
Put off amazement, and with patience mark 205
What I shall utter, for the oracle
Knows nothing truer. ’T is not for a night
Or two that I forbear thy bed, but ever.

_Amin._ I dream. Awake, Amintor!

_Evad._ You hear right:
I sooner will find out the beds of snakes, 210
And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh,
Letting them curl themselves about my limbs,
Than sleep one night with thee. This is not feign’d,
Nor sounds it like the coyness of a bride.

_Amin._ Is flesh so earthly to endure all this? 215
Are these the joys of marriage? Hymen, keep
This story, that will make succeeding youth
Neglect thy ceremonies, from all ears;
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine
To after-ages: we will scorn thy laws, 220
If thou no better bless them. Touch the heart
Of her that thou hast sent me, or the world
Shall know; there ’s not an altar that will smoke
In praise of thee; we will adopt us sons;
Then virtue shall inherit, and not blood. 225
If we do lust, we’ll take the next we meet,
Serving ourselves as other creatures do;
And never take note of the female more,
Nor of her issue.—I do rage in vain;
She can but jest.—Oh, pardon me, my love! 230
So dear the thoughts are that I hold of thee,
That I must break forth. Satisfy my fear;
It is a pain, beyond the hand of death,
To be in doubt. Confirm it with an oath,
If this be true.

_Evad._ Do you invent the form; 235
Let there be in it all the binding words
Devils and conjurers can put together,
And I will take it. I have sworn before,
And here by all things holy do again,
Never to be acquainted with thy bed! 240
Is your doubt over now?

_Amin._ I know too much; would I had doubted still!
Was ever such a marriage-night as this!
You powers above, if you did ever mean
Man should be us’d thus, you have thought a way 245
How he may bear himself, and save his honour:
Instruct me in it; for to my dull eyes
There is no mean, no moderate course to run;
I must live scorn’d, or be a murderer.
Is there a third? Why is this night so calm? 250
Why does not Heaven speak in thunder to us,
And drown her voice?

_Evad._ This rage will do no good.

_Amin._ Evadne, hear me. Thou hast ta’en an oath,
But such a rash one, that to keep it were
Worse than to swear it. Call it back to thee; 255
Such vows as that never ascend to Heaven;
A tear or two will wash it quite away.
Have mercy on my youth, my hopeful youth,
If thou be pitiful! for, without boast,
This land was proud of me. What lady was there, 260
That men call’d fair and virtuous in this isle,
That would have shunn’d my love? It is in thee
To make me hold this worth. Oh, we vain men,
That trust [out][3345] all our reputation
To rest upon the weak and yielding hand 265
Of feeble woman! But thou art not stone;
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell
The spirit of love; thy heart cannot be hard.
Come, lead me from the bottom of despair
To all the joys thou hast; I know thou wilt; 270
And make me careful lest the sudden change
O’ercome my spirits.

_Evad._ When I call back this oath,
The pains of hell environ me!

_Amin._ I sleep, and am too temperate. Come to bed!
Or by those hairs, which, if thou hadst a soul 275
Like to thy locks, were threads for kings to wear
About their arms——

_Evad._ Why, so perhaps they are.

_Amin._ I’ll drag thee to my bed, and make thy tongue
Undo this wicked oath, or on thy flesh
I’ll print a thousand wounds to let out life! 280

_Evad._ I fear thee not: do what thou dar’st to me!
Every ill-sounding word or threat’ning look
Thou shew’st to me will be reveng’d at full.

_Amin._ It will not sure, Evadne?

_Evad._ Do not you hazard that.

_Amin._ Ha’ ye your champions? 285

_Evad._ Alas, Amintor, think’st thou I forbear
To sleep with thee, because I have put on
A maiden’s strictness? Look upon these cheeks,
And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood
Unapt for such a vow. No; in this heart 290
There dwells as much desire and as much will
To put that wished[3346] act in practice as ever yet
Was known to woman; and they have been shown
Both. But it was the folly of thy youth
To think this beauty, to what land[3347] soe’er 295
It shall be call’d, shall stoop to any second.
I do enjoy the best, and in that height
Have sworn to stand or die. You guess the man.

_Amin._ No; let me know the man that wrongs me so,
That I may cut his body into motes, 300
And scatter it before the northern wind.

_Evad._ You dare not strike him.

_Amin._ Do not wrong me so.
Yes, if his body were a poisonous plant
That it were death to touch, I have a soul
Will throw me on him.

_Evad._ Why, ’tis the King.

_Amin._ The King! 305

_Evad._ What will you do now?

_Amin._ ’Tis not the King!

_Evad._ What did he make this match for, dull Amintor?

_Amin._ Oh, thou hast nam’d a word, that wipes away
All thoughts revengeful! In that sacred name,
“The King,” there lies a terror. What frail man 310
Dares lift his hand against it? Let the gods
Speak to him when they please: till when, let us
Suffer and wait.

_Evad._ Why should you fill yourself so full of heat,
And haste so to my bed? I am no virgin. 315

_Amin._ What devil put it in thy fancy, then,
To marry me?

_Evad._ Alas, I must have one
To father children, and to bear the name
Of husband to me, that my sin may be
More honourable!

_Amin._ What strange thing am I! 320

_Evad._ A miserable one; one that myself
Am sorry for.

_Amin._ Why, show it then in this:
If thou hast pity, though thy love be none,
Kill me; and all true lovers, that shall live
In after ages crost in their desires, 325
Shall bless thy memory, and call thee good,
Because such mercy in thy heart was found,
To rid[3348] a ling’ring wretch.

_Evad._ I must have one
To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead;
Else, by this night, I would! I pity thee. 330

_Amin._ These strange and sudden injuries have fall’n
So thick upon me, that I lose all sense
Of what they are. Methinks, I am not wrong’d;
Nor is it aught, if from the censuring world
I can but hide it. Reputation, 335
Thou art a word, no more!—But thou hast shown
An impudence so high, that to the world
I fear thou wilt betray or shame thyself.

_Evad._ To cover shame, I took thee; never fear
That I would blaze[3349] myself.

_Amin._ Nor let the King 340
Know I conceive he wrongs me; then mine honour
Will thrust me into action, though[3350] my flesh
Could bear with patience. And it is some ease
To me in these extremes, that I know this
Before I toucht thee; else, had all the sins 345
Of mankind stood betwixt me and the King,
I had gone through ’em to his heart and thine.
I have lost[3351] one desire: ’t is not his crown
Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolve[3352]
He has dishonour’d thee. Give me thy hand: 350
Be careful of thy credit, and sin close;[3353]
’T is all I wish. Upon thy chamber-floor
I’ll rest to-night, that morning visitors
May think we did as married people use: 354
And prithee, smile upon me when they come,
And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleased
With what we did.

_Evad._ Fear not; I will do this.

_Amin._ Come, let us practise; and, as wantonly
As ever loving[3354] bride and bridegroom met,
Let’s laugh and enter here.

_Evad._ I am content. 360

_Amin._ Down all the swellings of my troubled heart!
When we walk thus intwin’d, let all eyes see
If ever lovers better did agree. _Exeunt._

[SCENE II.][3355]

_Enter_ ASPATIA, ANTIPHILA, _and_ OLYMPIAS.

_Asp._ Away, you are not sad! force it no further.
Good gods, how well you look! Such a full colour
Young bashful brides put on: sure, you are new married!

_Ant._ Yes, madam, to your grief.

_Asp._ Alas, poor wenches!
Go learn to love first; learn to lose yourselves; 5
Learn to be flattered, and believe and bless
The double tongue that did it; make a faith
Out of the miracles of ancient lovers,
Such as spake truth and died in ’t; and, like me,
Believe all faithful, and be miserable. 10
Did you ne’er love yet, wenches? Speak, Olympias:
Thou hast an easy temper, fit for stamp.

_Olym._ Never.

_Asp._ Nor you, Antiphila?

_Ant._ Nor I.

_Asp._ Then, my good girls, be more than women, wise;
At least be more than I was; and be sure 15
You credit any thing the light gives life to,
Before a man. Rather believe the sea
Weeps for the ruin’d merchant, when he roars;
Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails,
When the strong cordage cracks; rather, the sun 20
Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn,
When all falls blasted. If you needs must love,
(Forc’d by ill fate,) take to your maiden-bosoms
Two dead-cold aspics, and of them make lovers.
They cannot flatter nor forswear; one kiss 25
Makes a long peace for all. But man—
Oh, that beast man! Come, let’s be sad, my girls:
That down-cast of thine eye, Olympias,
Shows a fine sorrow.—Mark, Antiphila;
Just such another was the nymph Oenone, 30
When Paris brought home Helen.—Now, a tear;
And then thou art a piece expressing fully
The Carthage queen, when from a cold sea-rock,
Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes 34
To the fair Trojan ships; and, having lost them,
Just as thine does, down stole a tear.—Antiphila,
What would this wench do, if she were Aspatia?
Here she would stand, till some more pitying god
Turn’d her to marble!—’T is enough, my wench!
Show me the piece of needlework you wrought.

_Ant._ Of Ariadne, madam?

_Asp._ Yes, that piece.— 41
This should be Theseus; h’as a cozening face.—
You meant him for a man?

_Ant._ He was so, madam.

_Asp._ Why, then, ’tis well enough.—Never look back;
You have a full wind and a false heart, Theseus.— 45
Does not the story say, his keel was split,
Or his masts spent, or some kind rock or other
Met with his vessel?

_Ant._ Not as I remember.

_Asp._ It should ha’ been so. Could the gods know this,
And not, of all their number, raise a storm? 50
But they are all as evil. This false smile
Was well exprest; just such another caught me.—
You shall not go so.[3356]—
Antiphila, in this place work a quicksand,
And over it a shallow smiling water, 55
And his ship ploughing it; and then a Fear:
Do that Fear to the life,[3357] wench.

_Ant._ ’T will wrong the story.

_Asp._ ’T will make the story, wrong’d by wanton poets,
Live long and be believ’d. But where ’s the lady?

_Ant._ There, madam. 60

_Asp._ Fie, you have mist it here, Antiphila;
You are much mistaken, wench.
These colours are not dull and pale enough
To show a soul so full of misery
As this sad lady’s was. Do it by me, 65
Do it again by me, the lost Aspatia;
And you shall find all true but the wild island.
I stand upon the sea-breach now, and think[3358]
Mine arms thus, and mine hair blown with the wind,
Wild as that desert; and let all about me 70
Tell that I am forsaken. Do my face
(If thou had’st ever feeling of a sorrow)
Thus, thus, Antiphila; strive to make me look
Like Sorrow’s monument; and the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks 75
Groan with continual surges; and behind me,
Make all a desolation. See, see, wenches,
A miserable life[3359] of this poor picture!

_Olym._ Dear madam!

_Asp._ I have done. Sit down; and let us
Upon that point fix all our eyes, that point there. 80
Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sadness
Give us new souls.

_Enter_ CALIANAX.

_Cal._ The King may do this, and he may not do it:
My child is wrong’d, disgrac’d.—Well, how now, huswives? 84
What, at your ease! Is this a time to sit still?
Up, you young lazy whores, up, or I ’ll swinge you!

_Olym._ Nay, good my lord—

_Cal._ You ’ll lie down shortly. Get you in, and work!
What, are you grown so resty you want heats?
We shall have some of the court-boys do that office. 90

_Ant._ My lord, we do no more than we are charg’d:
It is the lady’s pleasure we be thus
In grief she is forsaken.

_Cal._ There ’s a rogue too,
A young dissembling slave!—Well, get you in.—
I ’ll have a bout with that boy. ’T is high time
Now to be valiant: I confess my youth 96
Was never prone that way. What, made an ass!
A court-stale![3360] Well, I will be valiant,
And beat some dozen of these whelps; I will!
And there ’s another of ’em, a trim cheating soldier; 100
I ’ll maul that rascal; has out-brav’d me twice;
But now, I thank the gods, I am valiant.—
Go, get you in.—I ’ll take a course with all. _Exeunt._