Chapter XXX: Act II: , Scene 2

_Enter_ LYSICLES.

LYS. Madam, I've begg'd leave of your noble father to
Offer up myself a servant to your virtues.

HER. It is a grace our family must boast of
That you descend to visit those that style
Themselves your creatures, made such by your goodness,
Which we can only pay by frequent prayers,
That your line may last as glorious to
Posterity, as your now living fame is.

LYS. Madam, you were not wont by a feign'd praise
To scorn those that admire you; or would you
Thus insinuate what I should be by telling
Me I am, what I must ever aim at?

HER. Were there proportion 'twixt our births, my lord,
'Twould ill become a virgin's mouth to utter,
How much you do deserve; that will excuse,
When I shall say our Greece ne'er saw your equal.

LYS. I did not think I ever could be mov'd
With my own praise; but now my happiness
So much depends, that you shall truly think
What now you utter of me; that I glory
My actions are thus favour'd by your judgment.

HER. We must forget our safeties and the gods,
Whose instrument you were of our deliverance,
When we are silent of the mighty debt
This kingdom owes your courage.

LYS. This declaration of your favouring me will plead
My pardon, if I do omit the ceremonial circumstance,
Which usually makes way for this great truth
I now must utter. Madam, I do love
Your virtues with that adoration,
That the all-seeing sun does not behold
A lady that I love with equal ardour.
Our friends, who have most power over us, both
Do second my desires of joining us
In the sacred tie of marriage.

HER. My lord, I thought at first how ill my words
Became a virgin; but give 'em the right sense:
They were design'd, which was to speak you truly,
Not with a flatt'ring ambition
They might engage you to the love of one
So far unequal. If I have ever gain'd
Anything on your goodness, I'll not lose it
By foolishly aspiring to that height
You must in honour dispossess me of,
When I was seated. Marry you, my lord!
The king, our neighbour princes, all good men
Must curse me as a stain to those great virtues
You're the single lord of. If you speak this to try
What easy conquest you can make of all
You faintly but pretend to, I'll confess
The weakness of our sex would be prouder
Only to have the shows of your affection,
Than real loves of any they can hope
With justice to attain to.

LYS. Whatever I deserve,
The gods have largely recompens'd my intent
Of doing virtuously, if it hath gain'd so much
Upon your goodness as to make a way
For my affection.

HER. My lord, I do not understand you.

LYS. Pardon me, dearest lady, if my words
Too boldly do deliver what my actions
And frequent services should first have smooth'd
The way they are to take. My happiness
So nearly is concern'd, you shall approve
Me for your servant, that I trembling haste,
To know what rigours or what joys expect me,
But ere you do begin to speak my fate,
Know whom you do condemn, or whom make happy:
One, that when misery had made so wretched,
That it ravished his desires to change,
Whose eyes were turned inward on his grief,
Pleas'd with no object but what caus'd their tears,
Your beauty only rais'd from his dark seat
Of circling sorrows, lighting me a hope
By you I might receive all happiness,
The gods have made, my heart capacious of.

HER. Good my lord, give me leave again to say,
I dare not understand you; you are too noble
To glory in the conquest of a heart
That ever hath admir'd you; and to think
You can so far forget your birth and virtue,
As to believe me fit to be your wife,
Were a presumption that swelling pride
Must be the father of, which never yet
My heart could be allied to. Continue, prince:
Be the example of a constant love,
And let not your Milesia's ashes shrink
With a new-piercing cold, which they will feel
I'th' instant that your heart shall be consenting
To any new affection; and give me leave to say,
Your mind can ne'er admit a noble love,
If it hath banish'd hers your memory.

LYS. Must that be argument of cruelty,
Which should be cause of pity? And will you
Assume the patronage of envious fortune,
By adding torments unto her affliction?
Must I be miserable in losing you,
Because the gods thought me unworthy her?
Did I so easily digest her death,
That I want pity, and am thought unworthy
Of all succeeding love? Witness my loss
Of joys; if sorrow could have kill'd me,
I had not lived to show your mercy.

HER. Protect me, virtue! [_Aside._
Pardon me, my lord! I know your griefs
How great and just they are, and only meant
By mentioning Milesia to confess,
How much unworthy I am to succeed her
In your affection which, though you bent
As low as I durst raise myself to reach,
'Twere now impiety for me to grasp,
I being no more my own disposer.

LYS. Ha! what fate hath taken you from yourself?

HER. The Lord Ergasto's importunity;
Who, though at first no inclination
Of mine made me affect his vows,
Hath vanquish'd my determination.
I finding nothing in myself deserving
The constancy of his affection to me,
Besides my father's often urging me
To make my choice obeying[356] his commands,
And threat'ning misery if I declin'd the least--
Knowing his violent nature, I consented
To a contract 'twixt me and the Lord Ergasto.

HER. O, the prophecies of my just[357] fears, how true
My heart foretold you!
Madam, it cannot be you should affect
One that hath no desert but what you give,
By making him a part of you. My hopes,
Though always blasted, could not apprehend
A fear from him. I should be happy yet,
If any worthy love shadowed my shame
Of being refused by you.

HER. Give not my want of power to serve your grace,
The cruel title of refusing you.

Your merits are so great, you may assure yourself
Of all you can desire, that's possible
To grant, whom thousands worthier than myself
Would kneel to.
By my life, if my faith were not given, I would
Here offer up myself to be dispos'd by you.
Though no ambitious pride could flatter me,
You could descend to raise me to your height.

LYS. Must this be added to my former griefs
That, in the instant you profess to pity
What I must suffer in your loss--your virtue,
For which I [most] admire you, must exclude
My hopes of ever changing your resolves?
Yet let my vows gain thus much of you,
That for a month you will not marry him;
I know your father will not force you to't,
For he, not knowing what hath pass'd between you,
Consented to this visit.

HER. By all things holy, this I swear to do,
Though violent diseases should enclose me,
Till the priest join'd our hands; yet, if you please,
Let not my father know but he's the cause,
I dare not look upon the mighty blessing
Your love doth promise.

LYS. May I not know the reason?

HER. That he may know that his unquestion'd power
Hath forc'd me to that error which himself
And I must ever mourn unpitied.[358]

LYS. Now you throw oil upon the wound you make:

I may be ignorant of all things else,
But of my want of merit to deserve
I am most perfect in: be happy, lady,
He that enjoys you shall not need that prayer--
My father's business calls me.

HER. Let me entreat you, that you'll see a lady,
Whose virtue does deserve the honour of
Your knowledge.

LYS. What is she?

HER. An Egyptian lady, lately come to Cirrha.

LYS. I have heard of her; they say she knows
Our actions pass'd and future.

HER. When you her know, you will believe,
That virtue chose that dark inhabitation,
To hide her treasure from the envious world,
I'll call her to your grace. [Acanthe!]

_Enter_ ACANTHE.

HER. Madam, this is the prince. [_He salutes her._

MOOR. You need not tell me it, though this be the first
Time that I saw him since I came to Cirrha,
His fame doth make him known to all that are
Remotest from him.

LYS. My miseries indeed
Have made it great; for all things else I should
Be more beholden unto silence than
The voice of my most partial friends.
Why do you gaze upon me so?

MOOR. Have you
Not lately lost a lady that did love you dearly?

LYS. If you do measure time by what I suffer,
My undiminish'd grief tells me but now--
But now I lost her; if the sad minutes
That have oppress'd me since the fatal stroke,
It is an age of torments I have felt.

MOOR. Good sir, withdraw a little, I shall deliver
What you believe none knows besides yourself. [_They whisper._

LYS. Most true it is! What god, that heard our vows,
Hath told it you? But if your eyes
Pierce farther in their secrets than our
Weak fancies can give credit to, tell me,
If, where she is, she can discern and know
My actions?

MOOR. Most perfectly she does,
And mourns your loss of faith, that now begin.
After so many vows, so many oaths, you would
Be only hers, to think of a new choice.

LYS. This may be [a] conspiracy; I'll try
It further. [_Aside._

MOOR. Had you been snatch'd from her.
And for her sake murder'd, as she for you;
Your urn's cold ashes should have hid her fire
Of faithful love. Pardon me, my lord, her injur'd spirit inspires me
With this boldness.

LYS. I am certain
This is no inspiration of the gods;
It cannot be she should consent my faith
Should be the ruin of my name and memory:
Which necessarily must follow, if virtuous love
Did not continue it to future ages.

MOOR. Fame of a constant lover will eternise it
More than a numerous issue; would you hear
Herself express her sorrow?

LYS. If I should desire it, it were impossible.

MOOR. You conclude too fast: if this night you'll come
Unto her tomb, you there shall see her.

LYS. Though she bring thunder in her hand, I will not fail to come,
And though I cannot credit that your power can procure it,
My hopes it should be so will overcome
My reason. Ladies, I am your servant. [_Exit._

MOOR. Madam, I cannot stay to know particulars
Of what hath pass'd betwixt you and the prince:
Only tell me how he relish'd your saying you
Were promis'd to Ergasto?

HER. Respects to one
I seem'd to have made choice of made him
Forbear his character: but shall not I
Be punish'd, seeming to prefer one so unworthy
Both to Eugenio and this noble prince?

MOOR. The gods give us permission to be false
When they exclude us from all other ways
Which may preserve our faith.
Longer I dare not stay. I am your servant. [_Exeunt severally._

_Enter_ ERGASTO, CLEON, PHORMIO.

ERG. Now we are met, what shall we do to keep us together?

PHOR. Let's take some argument may last an hour of mirth.

CLE. If you'll have Ergasto be of the parley, it must be of the
ladies; for he is desperately in love.

PHOR. If the disease grow old in him, I'll pay the physician;
but be it so, and let it be lawful to change as often as we
will.

ERG. What, the ladies?

PHOR. The discourse of them and themselves too, if we could
arrive to it. But what is she you love?

ERG. One that I would sacrifice half my life to have but a
week's enjoying of.

PHOR. At these games of love we set all; but the best is, we
cannot stake, and there's no loss of credit in the breaking.
Cleon, hast thou seen him with his mistress?

CLE. Yes, and he stands gazing on her, as if he were begging of
an alms.

PHOR. 'Tis not ill-done; but does he not speak to her?

CLE. Never but in hyperboles; tells her, her eyes are stars,
which astronomers should only study to know our fate by.

PHOR. 'Tis not amiss if she have neither of the extremes.

CLE. What do you intend?

PHOR. I mean, neither so ill-favoured as to have no ground
for what we say, for there belief will hardly enter; nor so
handsome as to have it often spoke to her. For your indifferent
beauties are those whom flattery surpriseth, there being so
natural a love and opinion of ourselves, that we are adapted to
believe that men are rather deceived in us, than abuse us.

ERG. Your limitation takes away much of my answer: but grant
all that you say, I have no hope of obtaining my mistress.

PHOR. Then thou hast yet a year of happiness: but why, I
prythee?

ERG. She is so deserving, she thinks none worthy of her
affections, and so can love none.

PHOR. You have more cause to doubt that she will never affect
you, than that already she is not in love: what, a young
handsome lady, that carries the flame of her heart in her
cheeks, not have yet seen any one to desire? 'Tis impossible.

ERG. I was of your mind, till I had experience of the contrary.

PHOR. Conceit[359] of yourself makes you of the opinion I
mentioned. You think 'tis impossible for all men, what you
cannot attain to; what arts have you used to gain her?

CLE. He knows none but distilling sighs at the altar of her
beauty.

PHOR. If he be subject to that frenzy, I will counsel him to
take any trade upon him rather than that of love.

ERG. And do you think there is anything fitter to call down
affection than submission?

PHOR. Nothing more opposite; for languishing transports,
whinings and melancholy make us more laughed at than beloved
of our mistresses--and with reason: for why should we hope to
deserve their favours, when we confess we merit not a lawful
esteem of ourselves?

CLE. I have known some their mistresses have forsaken, only
because they were certain the world took notice they were
deeply in love with them.

PHOR. And they did wisely; for, the victory being got, they
were to prepare for a new triumph, and not, like your city
officers, ride still with the same liveries. Some (I confess)
have miscarried in it, but 'twas because their provision of
beauty was spent before they came to composition.

ERG. Thou wert an excellent fool in a chamber; if you continue,
you'll be so in a comedy. Dost believe thou can'st swagger them
out of their loves?

PHOR. Sooner than soften their hearts by my tears; and though a
river should run through me, I would seal up my eyes, before
a drop should come that way: for our unmanly submissions raise
them to that height, that they think we are largely favoured if
they hearken to us with contempt.

ERG. 'Tis safer they should do so, than hate us for our
insolence.

PHOR. If thou hadst ever been used to talk sense, I should
wonder at thee now; why, I should sooner hope to gain a lady
after the murder of her family, than after she had an opinion I
deserved to be slighted by her.

CLE. 'Fore Venus, he talks with authority. I know not well what
he has said; but methinks there is something in it: prythee,
let's hearken to him.

PHOR. Do; and if I do not dispossess you of all your opinions,
let me be----

ERG. You must deal by enchantment then; for I am resolved to
stick to my conclusions.

PHOR. 'Tis the best holdfast your foolish devil has; but strong
reasons shall be your exorcism. Tell me first, what is she you
love?

ERG. Would I could.

PHOR. Then, for all thy jesting, there's some hope thou art yet
in thy wits.

ERG. You mistake me; I mean I could not tell, because no tongue
can speak her to her merit.

PHOR. Heyday! if the ballad of the rose and honeycomb do not
do it more than she deserves, or almost any woman, let me be
condemned to sing the funerals of parrots.

CLE. Would the ladies heard you!

PHOR. They would believe me, though they would be sorry your
honours should. But what, this love--has it transformed us all?
Cleon, you can tell who 'tis he thus admires?

CLE. Yes, and will; 'tis Hermione, Pindarus his heir.

PHOR. What, Epictetus in a petticoat! She that disputes love
into nothing--or, what's worse, a friendship with a woman?

CLE. The same; and I know you'll confess she's deserving.

PHOR. Yes; but the mischief is, she'll ne'er think so of him.
If polygamy were in fashion, I would persuade him to marry her,
to be governess to the rest; but not till then. Wouldst thou be
content to lie with a statue, that will never confess more of
love than suffering the effects of thine?

CLE. And have his liberties in the discourse of her friends,
that her retiredness may be more magnified.

PHOR. Believe me, Ergasto, these severe beauties, that are to
be looked on with the eyes of respect, are not for us: we must
have them, that love to be praised more for fair ladies than
judicious.

ERG. You mistake me, gentlemen; I choose for myself, not for
you.

PHOR. Faith, for that, whoever marries, must sacrifice to
fortune; and she, whose wisdom makes her snow to you may be
fire to another. Some odd wrinkled fellow, that conquers her
with wit, may throw her on her back with reason. Take this from
the oracle, that for the general calamity of husbands all women
are reputed vicious, and for the quiet of particulars every one
thinks his wife the phoenix.

ERG. You have met with rare fortunes.

PHOR. Calumny is so general, that truth has lost her credit.
But to th' purpose--what rivals? what hopes?

CLE. A potent rival takes away all: Lysicles does woo her.

PHOR. Good night. I will dispute it no more, whether thou
shouldst have her or no; for I now conclude it is impossible.

ERG. I had her father's firm consent before he declared himself.

PHOR. Though thou hadst hers too, be wise, and despair betimes.
In this point women are commonwealths, and are obliged to their
faiths no farther than the safety and honour of the state is
concerned. If thou wert the first example, I would excuse thee
for being the first cosened. But stay, who's here?

_Enter_ PHILLIDA _veiled, beckons to_ ERGASTO.

O' my conscience, an embassage from some of your kind
mistresses, that would fain take their leaves, before you go to
captivity.

ERG. Is't possible?

PHIL. She desires you to see her, and believe that ambition
cannot gain more upon her than your affection.

ERG. Take this ring, and this.

PHIL. I dare not, sir.

ERG. I'll pay thy dowry then within this half-hour: I'll wait
on her. [_Exit_ PHILLIDA.

CLE. From what part of the town came this fair day in a cloud,
that makes you look so cheerfully?

ERG. Alas, gentlemen! I was born to know nothing of love but
sighs and despairs. I can be servant to none that can have the
election of two.

CLE. Unriddle, unriddle.

ERG. 'Twas the servant of Hermione that came to have me wait
upon her lady.

CLE. Phormio, what do you think of this?

PHOR. I won't think at all, for fear I judge amiss. The mazes
of a woman are so intricate, no precept can secure us. Yet this
I'm resolved on: she will not love you.

CLE. Why sent she for him, then?

PHOR. The devil that advis'd her can tell you: they
Will not lose a servant whilst he lives,
Though they command him to be murder'd. 'Tis the
Woman-art--if they perceive a lover to desist
Through fear, distrust, or harsher usage, they
Open him the heaven of their beauty in smiles
And yielding looks, and with their eyes do melt
The ice of doubts their fears contracted: perhaps
Prince Lysicles spurs coldly whilst he rides
Alone, and you must strain to make him go
The faster. Eugenio, too, was servant to your
Mistress, and Lysicles and he parted good friends.
Should I think all the ways they have to cosen
Us, 'twere endless. But I'll along with you,
And guess at more. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[356] [In obedience to.]

[357] [Old copy, _unjust_.]

[358] [Dodsley printed _unquitted_.]

[359] [Old copy, _conceites_.]