Chapter XIII: Act II: Scene I

_The same. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS, TIMAGORAS, LEOSTHENES, _with gorgets; and_ MARULLO.

_Archid._ So, so, 'tis well: how do I look?

_Mar._ Most sprightfully.

_Archid._ I shrink not in the shoulders; though I'm old
I'm tough, steel to the back; I have not wasted
My stock of strength in featherbeds: here's an arm too;
There's stuff in 't, and I hope will use a sword
As well as any beardless boy of you all.

_Timag._ I'm glad to see you, sir, so well prepared
To endure the travail of the war.

_Archid._ Go to, sirrah!
I shall endure, when some of you keep your cabins,
For all your flaunting feathers; nay, Leosthenes,
You are welcome too[105], all friends and fellows now.

_Leost._ Your servant, sir.

_Archid._ Pish! leave these compliments,
They stink in a soldier's mouth; I could be merry,
For, now my gown's off, farewell gravity[106]!
I fear ye, when you come to the test.--Old stories tell us,
There's a month call'd October[107], which brings in
Cold weather; there are trenches too, 'tis rumour'd,
In which to stand all night to the knees in water,
In gallants breeds the toothach; there's a sport too,
Named _lying perdue_, do you mark me? 'tis a game
Which you must learn to play at: now in these seasons,
And choice variety of exercises,
(Nay, I come to you,) and fasts, not for devotion,
Your rambling youngster feels strange alterations;
And in a frosty morning.----O welcome! welcome!

_Enter_ DIPHILUS _and_ CLEORA.

You have cut off my discourse; but I will perfect
My lecture in the camp.

_Diph._ Come, we are stay'd for;
The general's afire for a remove,
And longs to be in action.

_Archid._ 'Tis my wish too.
We must part--nay, no tears, my best Cleora;
I shall melt too, and that were ominous.
Millions of blessings on thee! All that's mine
I give up to thy charge; and, sirrah, look
[_To_ MARULLO.
You with that care and reverence observe her,
Which you would pay to me.--A kiss; farewell, girl!

_Diph._ Peace wait upon you, fair one!
[_Exeunt_ ARCHIDAMUS, DIPHILUS, _and_ MARULLO.

_Timag._ 'Twere impertinence
To wish you to be careful of your honour,
That ever keep in pay a guard about you
Of faithful virtues: farewell!--Friend, I leave you
To wipe our kisses off; I know that lovers
Part with more circumstance and ceremony:
Which I give way to. [_Exit._

_Leost._ 'Tis a noble favour,
For which I ever owe you. We are alone;
But how I should begin, or in what language
Speak the unwilling word of parting from you,
I am yet to learn.

_Cleo._ And still continue ignorant;
For I must be most cruel to myself,
If I should teach you.

_Leost._ Yet it must be spoken,
Or you will chide my slackness. You have fired me
With the heat of noble action to deserve you;
And the least spark of honour that took life
From your sweet breath, still fann'd by it and cherish'd,
Must mount up in a glorious flame, or I
Am much unworthy.

_Cleo._ May it not burn here[108],
And, as a seamark, serve to guide true lovers
Safe from the rocks of passion to the harbour
Of pure affection? rising up an example
Which aftertimes shall witness, to our glory,
First took from us beginning.

_Leost._ 'Tis a happiness
My duty to my country, and mine honour
Cannot consent to; besides, add to these,
It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion,
And strength of reason, for the general good,
That I should go.

_Cleo._ Alas! I then was witty
To plead against myself; and mine eye, fix'd
Upon the hill of honour, ne'er descended
To look into the vale of certain dangers,
Through which you were to cut your passage to it.

_Leost._ I'll stay at home, then.

_Cleo._ No, that must not be;
For so, to serve my own ends, and to gain
A petty wreath myself, I rob you of
A certain triumph, which must fall upon you,
Or Virtue's turn'd a handmaid to blind Fortune.
How is my soul divided! to confirm you
In the opinion of the world, most worthy
To be beloved, (with me you're at the height,
And can advance no further,) I must send you
To court the goddess of stern war, who, if
She see you with my eyes, will ne'er return you,
But grow enamour'd of you.

_Leost._ Sweet, take comfort!
And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me,
Or I am wretched. All the dangers that
I can encounter in the war are trifles;
My enemies abroad to be contemn'd:
The dreadful foes, that have the power to hurt me,
I leave at home with you.

_Cleo._ With me!

_Leost._ Nay, in you,
In every part about you, they are arm'd
To fight against me.

_Cleo._ Where?

_Leost._ There's no perfection
That you are mistress of, but musters up
A legion against me, and all sworn
To my destruction.

_Cleo._ This is strange!

_Leost._ But true, sweet;
Excess of love can work such miracles!
Upon this ivory forehead are intrench'd
Ten thousand rivals, and these suns command
Supplies from all the world, on pain to forfeit
Their comfortable beams; these ruby lips,
A rich exchequer to assure their pay:
This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard them
Through hell, and horror, to the Elysian springs;
Which who'll not venture for? and, should I name
Such as the virtues of your mind invite,
Their numbers would be infinite.

_Cleo._ Can you think
I may be tempted?

_Leost._ You were never proved[109].
For me, I have conversed with you no further
Than would become a brother. I ne'er tuned
Loose notes to your chaste ears; or brought rich presents
For my artillery, to batter down
The fortress of your honour; I never practised
The cunning and corrupting arts they study,
That wander in the wild maze of desire;
Honest simplicity and truth were all
The agents I employ'd; and when I came
To see you, it was with that reverence
As I beheld the altars of the gods:
And Love, that came along with me, was taught
To leave his arrows and his torch behind,
Quench'd in my fear to give offence.

_Cleo._ And 'twas
That modesty that took me, and preserves me,
Like a fresh rose, in mine own natural sweetness;
Which, sullied with the touch of impure hands,
Loses both scent and beauty.

_Leost._ But, Cleora,
When I am absent, as I must go from you,
(Such is the cruelty of my fate,) and leave you,
Unguarded, to the violent assaults
Of loose temptations; when the memory
Of my so many years of love and service
Is lost in other objects; when you are courted
By such as keep a catalogue of their conquests,
Won upon credulous virgins; when nor father
Is here to owe[110] you, brother to advise you,
Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off,
By love instructed how to undermine,
And blow your constancy up; when your weak senses,
At once assaulted, shall conspire against you,
And play the traitors to your soul, your virtue;
How can you stand? 'Faith, though you fall, and I
The judge, before whom you then stood accused,
I should acquit you.

_Cleo._ Will you then confirm
That love and jealousy, though of different natures,
Must of necessity be twins; the younger
Created only to defeat the elder,
And spoil him of his birthright[111]? 'tis not well.
But being to part, I will not chide, I will not;
Nor with one syllable or tear, express
How deeply I am wounded with the arrows
Of your distrust: but when that you shall hear,
At your return, how I have borne myself,
And what an austere penance I take on me,
To satisfy your doubts; when, like a vestal,
I show you, to your shame, the fire still burning,
Committed to my charge by true affection,
The people joining with you in the wonder;
When, by the glorious splendour of my sufferings,
The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind,
The monster too that feeds on fears e'en starved
For want of seeming matter to accuse me;
Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof
From my just anger.

_Leost._ What will you do?

_Cleo._ Obey me,
Or from this minute you are a stranger to me;
And do 't without reply. All-seeing sun,
Thou witness of my innocence, thus I close
Mine eyes against thy comfortable light,
'Till the return of this distrustful man!
Now bind them sure;--nay, do 't: [_He binds her
eyes with her scarf._] If, uncompell'd,
I loose this knot, until the hands that made it
Be pleased to untie it, may consuming plagues
Fall heavy on me! pray you guide me to your lips.
This kiss, when you come back, shall be a virgin
To bid you welcome; nay, I have not done yet:
I will continue dumb, and, you once gone,
No accent shall come from me. Now to my chamber,
My tomb, if you miscarry: there I'll spend
My hours in silent mourning, and thus much
Shall be reported of me to my glory,
And you confess it, whether I live or die,
My constancy triumphs o'er your jealousy.
[_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[105] ------------_nay, Leosthenes,
You are welcome too_, &c.] It should be remembered that Archidamus
is, with great judgment, represented in the first scene as averse
to the marriage of Leosthenes with his daughter.--GIFFORD.

[106] _For, now my gown's off, farewell gravity!_] This is said to
have been a frequent expression with the great but playful Sir
Thomas More, who was never so happy as when he shook off the pomp
of office. Fuller tells a similar story of Lord
Burleigh.--GIFFORD.

[107] _There's a month call'd_ October, &c.] This pleasant old man
forgets that he is talking of Sicily, where October is the most
delightful month of the year. All our old poets loved and thought
only of their country. Whatever region was the subject, England
was the real theme: their habits, customs, peculiarities were all
derived from thence. This, though it must condemn them as
historians, may save them as patriots: and, indeed, it is not much
to be regretted that they should overlook manners, with which they
were very imperfectly acquainted, in favour of those with which
they were hourly conversant--at least it would be ungrateful in
us, who profit so much by their minute descriptions, to be
offended at their disregard of "the proper _costumi_."--GIFFORD.

[108] _Here_,] i. e. _in Syracuse_.

[109] Leost. _You were never proved._] The whole of this scene is
eminently beautiful; yet I cannot avoid recommending to the
reader's particular notice the speech which follows. Its rhythm is
so perfect, that it drops on the ear like the sweetest
melody.--GIFFORD.

[110] _Owe_,] i. e. _own_.

[111] _And spoil him of his birthright?_] This is a happy allusion to
the history of Jacob and Esau. It is the more so, for being void
of all profaneness; to which, indeed, Massinger had no
tendency.--GIFFORD.

SCENE II.

_The same. A Room in_ CLEON'_s House_.

_Enter_ ASOTUS, _driving in_ GRACCULO.

_Asot._ You slave! you dog! down, cur!

_Grac._ Hold, good young master,
For pity's sake!

_Asot._ Now am I in my kingdom:--
Who says I am not valiant? I begin
To frown again: quake, villain!

_Grac._ So I do, sir;
Your looks are agues to me.

_Asot._ Are they so, sir!
'Slight, if I had them at this bay that flout me,
And say I look like a sheep and an ass, I'd make them
Feel that I am a lion.

_Grac._ Do not roar, sir,
As you are a valiant beast: but do you know
Why you use me thus?

_Asot._ I'll beat thee a little more,
Then study for a reason. O! I have it:
One brake a jest on me, and then I swore,
(Because I durst not strike him,) when I came home,
That I would break thy head.

_Grac._ Plague on his mirth!
I am sure I mourn for 't.

_Asot._ Remember too, I charge you,
To teach my horse good manners yet; this morning,
As I rode to take the air, the untutor'd jade
Threw me, and kick'd me.

_Grac._ I thank him for 't. [_Aside._

_Asot._ What's that?

_Grac._ I say, sir, I will teach him to hold his heels,
If you will rule your fingers.

_Asot._ I'll think upon 't.

_Grac._ I am bruised to jelly: better be a dog,
Than slave to a fool or coward. [_Aside._

_Asot._ Here's my mother,

_Enter_ CORISCA _and_ ZANTHIA.

She is chastising too: how brave we live,
That have our slaves to beat, to keep us in breath
When we want exercise!

_Coris._ Careless creature, [_Striking her._
Look to 't; if a curl fall, or wind or sun
Take my complexion off, I will not leave
One hair upon thine head.

_Grac._ Here's a second show
Of the family of pride! [_Aside._

_Coris._ Fie on these wars!
I'm starved for want of action. When were you with
Your mistress, fair Cleora?

_Asot._ Two days sithence;
But she's so coy, forsooth, that ere I can
Speak a penn'd speech I have bought and studied for her,
Her woman calls her away.

_Coris._ Here's a dull thing!

_Zant._ Madam, my lord.

_Enter_ CLEON.

_Cleon._ Where are you, wife? I fain would go abroad,
But cannot find my slaves that bear my litter;
I am tired. Your shoulder, son;--nay, sweet, thy hand too:
A turn or two in the garden, and then to supper,
And so to bed.

_Asot._ Never to rise, I hope, more. [_Aside._
[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.

_A Grove near the Walls of Syracuse._

_Enter_ MARULLO _and_ POLIPHRON. _A Table set out with Wine, &c._

_Mar._ 'Twill take, I warrant thee.

_Poliph._ You may do your pleasure;
But, in my judgment, better to make use of
The present opportunity.

_Mar._ No more.

_Poliph._ I am silenced.

_Mar._ More wine; prithee drink hard, friend,
And when we're hot, whatever I propound,

_Enter_ CIMBRIO, GRACCULO, _and other Slaves._

Second with vehemence.--Men of your words, all welcome!
Slaves use no ceremony; sit down; here's a health.

_Poliph._ Let it run round; fill every man his glass.

_Grac._ We look for no waiters;--this is wine!

_Mar._ The better,
Strong, lusty wine: drink deep; this juice will make us
As free as our lords. [_Drinks._

_Grac._ But if they find we taste it,
We are condemn'd to the quarry during life,
Without hope of redemption.

_Mar._ Pish! for that
We'll talk anon: another rouse[112]! we lose time;
[_Drinks._
When our low blood's wound up a little higher,
I'll offer my design; nay, we are cold yet;
These glasses contain nothing:--do me right,
[_Takes the bottle._
As e'er you hope for liberty. 'Tis done bravely:
How do you feel yourselves now?

_Cimb._ I begin
To have strange conundrums in my head.

_Grac._ And I
To loathe base water. I would be hang'd in peace now
For one month of such holidays.

_Mar._ An age, boys,
And yet defy the whip; if you are men,
Or dare believe you have souls.

_Cimb._ We are no brokers.

_Mar._ Our lords are no gods--

_Grac._ They are devils to us, I am sure.

_Mar._ But subject to
Cold, hunger, and diseases.

_Grac._ In abundance.

_Mar._ Equal Nature fashion'd us
All in one mould. The bear serves not the bear,
Nor the wolf the wolf; 'twas odds of strength in tyrants
That pluck'd the first link from the golden chain
With which that THING OF THINGS[113] bound in the world.
Why then, since we are taught, by their examples,
To love our liberty, if not command,
Should the strong serve the weak, the fair, deform'd ones?
Or such as know the cause of things pay tribute
To ignorant fools? All's but the outward gloss,
And politic form, that does distinguish us.--
Cimbrio, thou art a strong man; if, in place
Of carrying burthens, thou hadst been train'd up
In martial discipline, thou might'st have proved
A general, fit to lead and fight for Sicily,
As fortunate as Timoleon.

_Cimb._ A little fighting
Will serve a general's turn.

_Mar._ Thou, Gracculo,
Hast fluency of language, quick conceit;
And, I think, cover'd with a senator's robe,
Formally set on the bench, thou wouldst appear
As brave a senator.

_Grac._ Would I had lands,
Or money to buy a place! and if I did not
Sleep on the bench with the drowsiest of them,
Play with my chain, look on my watch, and wear
A state beard, with my barber's help, rank with them
In their most choice peculiar gifts, degrade me,
And put me to drink water again, which, now
I have tasted wine, were poison!

_Mar._ 'Tis spoke nobly,
And like a gownman: none of these, I think too,
But would prove good burghers.

_Grac._ Hum! the fools are modest;
I know their insides: here's an ill-faced fellow,
(But that will not be seen in a dark shop;)
If he did not in a month learn to outswear,
In the selling of his wares, the cunning'st tradesman
In Syracuse, I have no skill. Here's another;
Observe but what a cozening look he has!--
Hold up thy head, man! If, for drawing gallants
Into mortgages for commodities[114], cheating heirs
With your new counterfeit gold thread, and gumm'd velvets,
He does not transcend all that went before him,
Call in his patent.

_Mar._ Is 't not pity, then,
Men of such eminent virtues should be slaves?

_Cimb._ Our fortune.

_Mar._ 'Tis your folly: daring men
Command and make their fates. Say, at this instant,
I mark'd you out a way to liberty;
Possess'd you of those blessings our proud lords
So long have surfeited in; and, what is sweetest,
Arm you with power, by strong hand to revenge
Your stripes, your unregarded toil, the pride,
The insolence, of such as tread upon
Your patient sufferings; fill your famish'd mouths
With the fat and plenty of the land; redeem you
From the dark vale of servitude, and seat you
Upon a hill of happiness; what would you do
To purchase this, and more?

_Grac._ Do! any thing:
To burn a church or two, and dance by the light on 't,
Were but a May-game.

_Poliph._ I have a father living;
But if the cutting of his throat could work this,
He should excuse me.

_Cimb._ 'Slight! I would cut mine own,
Rather than miss it; so I might but have
A taste on 't ere I die.

_Mar._ Be resolute men;
You shall run no such hazard, nor groan under
The burden of such crying sins.

_Poliph._ Do not torment us
With expectation.

_Mar._ Thus, then:--Our proud masters,
And all the able freemen of the city,
Are gone unto the wars----

_Poliph._ Observe but that.

_Mar._ Old men, and such as can make no resistance,
Are only left at home----

_Grac._ And the proud young fool,
My master--if this take, I'll hamper him.

_Mar._ Their arsenal, their treasure, 's in our power,
If we have hearts to seize them. If our lords fall
In the present action, the whole country's ours:
Say they return victorious, we have means
To keep the town against them; at the worst,
To make our own conditions. If you dare break up
Their iron chests, banquet in their rich halls,
And carve yourselves of all delights and pleasures
You have been barr'd from, with one voice cry with me,
Liberty! liberty!

_All._ Liberty! liberty!

_Mar._ Go, then, and take possession: use all freedom;
But shed no blood. [_Exeunt Slaves._]--So, this is well begun;
But not to be commended till 't be done. [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[112] _Rouse_,] i. e. _full glass_, _bumper_.

[113] _That_ THING OF THINGS.] A literal translation, as Mr. M. Mason
observes, of ENS ENTIUM. I know not where Pisander acquired his
revolutionary philosophy: his golden chain, perhaps, he found in
Homer.--GIFFORD.

[114] _For commodities_, &c.] i. e. _for wares_, of which the needy
borrower made what he could. Our old writers are extremely
pleasant on the heterogeneous articles which the usurers of their
days forced on the necessity of the thoughtless spendthrift in
lieu of the money for which he had rashly signed. Fielding has
imitated them in his Miser, without adding much to their humour;
and Foote, in The Minor, has servilely followed his example. The
spectators of those scenes probably thought that the writers had
gone beyond real life, and drawn on imagination for their
amusement: but transactions (not altogether proper, perhaps, to be
specified here) have actually taken place in our own times, which
leave their boldest conceptions at an humble distance; and prove,
beyond a doubt, that, in the arts of raising money, the invention
of the most fertile poet must yield to that of the meanest
scrivener.--GIFFORD.