Chapter XXXII: Act V: , Scene 1

_Enter_ SERVANT _and_ LYSICLES.

SER. Sir, I have waited, as you commanded, near the house of
the Egyptian lady: something is done that disturbs them all,
divers run in and out, physicians are sent for: at last, I went
in myself, and entered her chamber, found her on her bed almost
distracted with torture: cries she is poisoned: curses her
jealousy and curiosity, calls upon your name; desires and then
forbids you should be sent for.

LYS. But I will come to her confession. Courage, my soul,
Let no faint pity hinder thee the joys
Thou art receiving; triumph in their sufferings
That have attempted thine. Look down, Milesia,
Applaud my piety, that snatch'd the sword
From sleeping justice to revenge thy death. [_Exit._

SER. What means my lord to be pleas'd with this
Sad news? How can this stranger have offended him?
I'll follow, learn the issue, and the cause. [_Aside. Exit._

_Enter the_ MOOR _on her bed_, HERMIONE, PHILLIDA,
_and_ IRENE. _The bed thrust out._

MOOR. O, O, O gods! If I have merited your hate,
You might have laid it on, until my name
Had been a word to express full misery,
And I had thank'd you, if you had forborne
To make his innocence the instrument
Of your dire wrath. Hermione, Irene,
I have conjur'd my servants not to tell you,
When I am dead, who I was: but if
Their weakness shall discover't, let it be hid
From the best Lysicles: I burn, I burn,
And death dares not seize me, frighted
With the furies that torment me.

HER. Mysterious powers! Instruct us in the way
You would be serv'd, for we are ignorant;
Your thunder else would not be aim'd at those,
That follow virtue, as it is prescrib'd,
Whilst thousand others 'scape unpunished,
That violate the laws we are taught to keep.

_Enter_ LYSICLES.

LYS. What mean these sad expressions of sorrow?

HER. O my lord, nature had not made our hearts
Capable of pity if we forbear it here:
The virtuous Acanthe has been tormented
With pains nothing is able to express
But her own groans: she fears she's poison'd;
Talks of you, of tombs, and of Milesia,
And in the midst of all her torture says
Her distrust and jealousy deserve a greater punishment.

LYS. And I believe't, nor should you pity her:
Those that do trace forbidden paths of knowledge
The gods reserve unto themselves, do never do't,
But with intent to ruin the believers,
And venturers on their art. Something I know
O' th' curs'd effects of her commanding magic,
And she (no doubt) is conscious to herself
Of infinite more mischiefs than are yet reveal'd.
I am confident she is fled her country
For the ills she has done there, and now
The punishment has overta'en her here.
And, for her shows of virtue, they are masks
To hide the rottenness that lies within,
And gain her credit with some dissembled acts
Of piety, which levels her a passage
To those important mischiefs hell
Has employ'd her here to execute.

MOOR. O gods! deny me not a death, since you
Have given me the tortures that advance it:
If I deserve this, your inflicting hands
Do reach unto the shades, lay it on there.
Hermione, Irene, is Lysicles yet come?

LYS. Yes, to counsel you to pacify the gods
You have offended by your cursed arts:
The blessed ghost you sent me to has told me
Some sad effects on it, and in her name and cause
Have the gods hurl'd this punishment on thy
Foul soul, and made my grief, enrag'd to madness,
The blessed instrument of thy destruction,
Which does but here begin.

MOOR. You then did send
The poison with the present I receiv'd?

LYS. Yes, I did;
And wonder you durst tempt my just revenge,
Unless you did believe, you could confine
The revelations of the best spirits
Your cursed charms betray'd first,
And then enforc'd to leave their happy seats,
To perfect the designs your malice labour'd in.

MOOR. What unknown ways have the gods invented
To punish me! I feel a torment
No tyranny e'er parallell'd, yet must confess
An obligation to him that impos'd it.
Good gods! If I do bow under your wills,
Without repining at your sad decrees,
Grant this to recompense my martyrdom,
That he that is the author of my sufferings,
May never learn his error. Sir, if torments
E'er could expiate the crimes we have committed,
Mine might challenge your pardon and your pity:
I feel death entering me; love the memory
Of your Milesia, and forgive----

IRE. Help, help! She dies!

LYS. If it be possible, call life into her for some minutes,
her full confession will absolve my justice.

IRE. Bring some water here, she does but swoon. So, chafe her
temples----O heavens! What prodigy is here! Her blackness falls
away! My lord, look on this miracle; doth not heaven instruct
us in pity of her wrongs, that the opinions which prejudice her
virtue, should thus be washed away with the black clouds that
hide her purer form?

HER. Heaven hath some further ends in this than we
Can pierce. More water: she returns to life,
And all the blackness of her face is gone.

IRE. Pallas, Apollo, what may this portend?
My lord, have you not seen a face like this?

LYS. Yes, and horror seizeth me. Tis the idea
Of my Milesia. Impenetrable powers!
Deliver us in thunder your intents,
And exposition of this metamorphosis.

HER. She stirs

LYS. Hold her up gently. [_He kneels._

MOOR. O, O! Why do you kneel to me?

LYS. Are not you Milesia?

MOOR. Why do you ask?

LYS. O, then you are.

MOOR. My Lysicles, I am by miracle preserv'd;
Though, since the gods repent them of their succours,
Knowing me unworthy of thy firm constant love,
I never thought that death could be a terror,
Too long acquainted with the miseries
Pursue our lives; but now the apprehension
My grave should swallow thee, makes me to welcome it
With a heaviness that sinks despairing sinners.

LYS. Pour down your thunder, gods, upon this head,
And try if that can make me yet more wretched.
Was not her death affliction enough,
But you must make me be the murderer?
Is this a punishment for adoring her
Equal with you, you made so equal to ye?
Pardon the fault you forc'd me to commit:
So visible a divinity could not be look'd
On with less adoration.

MOOR. If e'er I did expect a happier death,
May I die loath'd! What funeral pomp
Can there be greater than for me to hear,
Whilst I yet live, my dying obsequies
With so much zeal pronounc'd by him I love?----
Tortures again do seize me.

LYS. Eyes, are you dry, where such an object calls
[All] your tears forth! My blood shall supply their[363] place.

MOOR. For heaven's sake, hold his hands. O my best Lysicles,
Do not destroy the comforts of my soul;
What a division do I feel within me!
I am but half-tormented; my soul in spite
O' th' tortures of my body, does feel a joy
That meets departed spirits in the blest shades.

LYS. What unexpected mischiefs circle me,
What arts hath malice, arm'd with fortune, found
To make me wretched? Could I e'er have thought
A miracle could have restor'd thee to my eyes,
That[364] they should, see the joys of heaven in thee?
Yet now the height of my affliction is,
That they behold thee, guilty of the close
Of thine for ever. See, Hermione,
The countenance death should put on, when death
Would have us throng unto her palaces,
And court her frozen sepulchres.

IRE. Sure, she is dead: how pale she is!

LYS. No; she is white as lilies, as the snow
That falls upon Parnassus; if the red were here,
As I have seen't enthron'd, the rising day would get
New excellence by being compared to her:
Argos nor Cyprus [nor] Egypt ne'er saw
A beauty like to this; let it be lawful for me to usurp
So much on death's right, as to take a kiss
From thy cold virgin-lips, where he and love
Yet strive for empire. The flames that rise from hence
Are not less violent, though less pleasing now,
Than when she did consent I should receive
What now I ravish.

MOOR. Dares not death shut those eyes, where love
Hath enter'd once, or am I in the shades
Assisted with the ghost of my dear Lysicles?

LYS. She speaks again: good heaven, she speaks again!

HER. You are yet living?

MOOR. And, therefore dying; but, before I go,
Let me obtain your pardon for the wrongs
My jealousy hath thrown upon your innocence.
'Twas my too perfect knowledge of my want
Of merit to deserve, made me doubt yours:
I mean your constant love, which I will teach
Below, and make them learn again to love
Who have died for it.

LYS. Do not abuse your mercy and my grief
By asking pardon of your murtherer;
But curse your sufferings off on this devoted head,
To save the beauty of the world in you.

MOOR. Why should your grief make me repent the joys
I ever begg'd of heaven--the knowledge
Of your love? Could there be added more
Unto my happiness, than to be confirm'd
By my own sufferings, how much you did love me,
And prosecuted those that desired my ruin?
Like Semele I die, who could not take
The full God in her arms.
I have but one wish more, that I may bear
Unto the shades the glorious title of your wife:
If I may live so long to hear but this
Pronounc'd by Lysicles, I die in peace.

LYS. Hear it, with my vows not to behold
The sun rise after you are gone.

MOOR. O, say not so; live, I command you, live;
Let your obedience unto this command
Show you have lost a mistress.

LYS. Can I hear this and live?

IRE. My lord, our cares will be employed better
In seeking to avert this lady's death
Than in deploring it.

LYS. You advise well. Run all to the physician:
I will myself to Arnaldo, who gave
This poison to me. Let me have word sent to the
Cypress grove the minute she is dead. [_Exeunt. Draw in the bed._

_Enter_ LYSICLES _meditating_.

LYS. If life be given as a blessing to us,
What law compels us to preserve it longer
Than we can see a possibility
Of being happy by it, but we must expect,
Till the same power that plac'd us here, commands
A restitution of His gift? This is indeed a rule
To make us live, but not live happily.
'Tis true, the slave that frees himself by death,
Doth wrong his master; but yet the gods are not
Necessitous of us, but we of them.
Who then is injur'd if I kill myself?
And if I durst to hear their voice, they call
Men to some other place, when they remove
The gust and taste of this. We should adore, thee, death,
If constant virtue, not enforcement, built
Thy spacious temples.

_Enter_ EUGENIO.

Welcome, Eugenio, welcome, worthy friend;
How long are you arrived?

EUG. Time enough to revenge, though not prevent
The injuries you have done me.

LYS. What means my friend?

EUG. I must not hear that name now; you have lost
The effects and virtue of it: I come to punish
Your breach of faith.

LYS. Is hell afraid my constancy should conquer
The mischiefs that are rais'd to swallow me,
That it invents new plagues to batter me?
By all that's holy, I never did offend my friend--
Not in a thought.

EUG. Those that by breach of vows provoke their justice
Do seldom fear profaning of their names;
To hide their perjuries will put it on them.
You have attempted my Hermione,
And forc'd her father to compel her voice
Unto your marriage.

LYS. All this I do confess; but 'twas for both your goods,
As I will now inform you.

EUG. Hell and furies! Because your specious titles,
Your spreading vineyards, and your gilded house
Do shine upon our cottage, must our faiths,
Which heaven did seal, be cancell'd? 'Twas my virtue
Won her fair graces, which still outshine
Your flames of vice.

LYS. It hath not light enough to let you see your friend.
Gods, could that man have liv'd that dar'd to say
Eugenio did suspect his Lysicles?
And now in pity you do show him me,
That I may fly the world without regret,
Not leaving one of worth behind me in it.
Be gone, and learn your errors.

EUG. I have done't already. They were trusting you
With my life's happiness. Draw, and restore the vows
You made Hermione; or I will leave you dead,
And tear them from your heart.

LYS. Fond man! thou dost not know how much 'tis in
My power to make thee miserable:
I could now force thee execute my wish
In killing me; and thou wouldst fly the light,
When it had show'd thee whom thy rage offended.
But till I fall by my own hand, my life
Is chain'd unto my honour, which I will wear
Upon my sepulchre. Nor must I die,
Being guilty of Milesia's murder,
For any cause but hers; else were my breast,
Since you have wrong'd me, open to your point.

EUG. Can you deny but that you have attempted
The faith of my Hermione?

LYS. I can with so strong circumstance of truth
Would make you blush for having doubted mine.
But he that was my friend, and suspects me,
Must attend less satisfaction than a stranger.
Proceed, and let your case be both your judge and guide.

EUG. What should I do? I dare not trust my sense,
If he should tell me that it does deceive me:
Virtue itself would lose her quality
Ere he forsook her, and his words do fall
Distorted from him; his soul doth labour
Under some heavy burden, which my passion
Did hinder me from seeing. Sir, forgive,
Or take your full revenge; let your own griefs
Teach you to pity those are distract with it.
I will not rise until you pardon me.

LYS. O my Eugenio, thy kindness hath undone me!
My rage did choke my grief, which now did spread
Itself over my soul and body. Up, and help
To bear me till I fall eternally.

EUG. Who can hear this, and not be turn'd to marble?
Good sir, impart your sorrows; I may bring comfort.

LYS. Whilst they were capable, thou didst; but now
They are too great and swoll'n to let it in.
Milesia, whom you and I supposed dead,
By me to-day is poison'd, and lies dying
In her torment. Is not this strange?

EUG. What have you said that is not?
But heaven avert this last!

LYS. It is too late now; let me beg thy kindness
Would do that for me I forbad thy passion.

EUG. What is't?

LYS. Kill me.

EUG. You cannot wish me such an hated office!
Call up your reason and your courage to you,
Which was not given you only for the wars,
But to resist the batteries of fortune.
People will say that Lysicles did want
Part of that courage fame did speak him lord of,
When they shall hear him sunk below her succour.

LYS. You will not kill me then?

EUG. When I believe there is no other means
To ease you, I will do't.

LYS. All but death are fled.

EUG. Then draw your sword, and as I lift my arm
To sheathe this in your breast, let yours pierce me;
On this condition I may do your will.

LYS. I may not for the world. Why should you die?

EUG. See how your passions blind you! Is death
An ease or torment? If it be a joy,
Why should you envy it your dearest friend?

LYS. Our causes are not equal.

EUG. They will be, when you're dead. How you mistake
The laws of friendship, and commit those faults
You did accuse me of! I would not live so long
To think you can survive your dying friend.

LYS. Eugenio, I am conquered; yet I hope thy kindness
Will do that for me which thy sword refuseth.
Love thy Hermione: she deserves it. Friend,
Leave me alone awhile.

EUG. Your grief's too great for me to trust your life with't:
I dare not venture you beyond my help.

WITHIN. Where's Prince Lysicles? Where's Prince Lysicles?

LYS. Hark! I am call'd, the fatal news is come.

[_Draws._

EUG. Fie! how unmanly's this? Can sounds affright you,
Which yet you know not whether they do bring
Or joys or sorrows? When remedies are despair'd of,
You have still leave to die. Perhaps she lives,
And you'll exhale her soul into your wounds,
And be the death of her you mourn for living.

WITHIN. Where's Prince Lysicles? Where's Prince Lysicles?

EUG. It is the voice of comfort; none would strive
To be a sad relator. I'll call him. Holla!
Here he is.

_Enter a_ SERVANT.

SER. The strange lady kisses
Your hands, my lord: Arnaldo has restored her;
She bid me say your sight can only give
Perfection to what he has begun.

EUG. Will you die now?

LYS. Softly, good friend: gently let it
Slide into my breast; my heart is too narrow yet
To take so full a joy in.
You're sure this news is true?

SER. Upon my life.

EUG. Why should you doubt it?

LYS. My comforts ever were like winter suns,
That rise late and [then] set betimes: set with thick clouds
That hide their light at noon. But be this true,
And I have life enough to let me see it,
I shall be ever happy.

EUG. So, 'tis well;
At length his hope hath taught despair to fear. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ MILESIA, HERMIONE, IRENE, PHYSICIAN.

PHY. Madam, my innocence will plead my pardon; I could not
guess for whom my lord intended it. The truth is I feared,
considering his deep melancholy, he intended to use it on
himself, and therefore meant to make him out of love with
death, by suffering the pains our souls do feel when they are
violenced from us. I had provided antidotes, but could not till
this hour learn on whom it was employed. Sure I was, it could
be death to none, though full of torment.

MIL. Till I have farther means to thank you, receive this ring.

HER. But, madam, what did poor[365] Hermione deserve,
That you should hide yourself from her?
Or are you the Milesia that was pleas'd
To call me friend? or is she buried
By Pallas' temple? Truly, belief and memory,
Opposing sense, makes me doubt which to credit.

I wept you dead, the virgins did entomb you:
Were we then or no deceiv'd?

MIL. My fair dear friend, you shall know all my story.
'Tis true, my uncle did design my death
For loving Lysicles; for, at his coming hither,
He charg'd me, by all ties that were between us,
To hate him as the ruin of his honour;
And yet, for some dark ends I understood not,
Resolv'd to leave me here. I swore obedience,
But knew not what offence it was to keep
An oath so made, till I had seen Lysicles,
Which at your house I did, when he came wounded
From hunting of the boar. All but his name
Appear'd most godlike to me. You all did run
To stop his wounds, and I thought I might see
My enemy's blood; yet soon did pity seize me,
To see him bleed. Thus, love taking the shape
Of pity, glided unseen of me into my heart,
And whilst I thought myself but charitable,
I nurs'd my infant love with milk of pity,
Till he grew strong enough to take me prisoner.
I found his eyes on mine, and ere I could
Remove them, heard him say, he'd thank his fortune
For this last wound, if 'twere the cause
Of seeing me; then took his leave,
But left me speechless that I could not say,
My heart, farewell! After this visit our loves
Grew to that height that you have heard of.

HER. The groves and temples, and dark shades have heard
Them mourn'd and celebrated by your friend.

MIL. I had a servant unsuspected of me,
(For none I trusted that observ'd our meetings,)
Who[366] guessing by my sighs that love had made them,
Betray'd them to my uncle. On Pallas' eve
He rush'd into my chamber, his sword drawn,
And snatch'd me by the arm. I fell down,
But, knowing yet no fault, could beg no pardon.
Awhile our eyes did only speak our thoughts;
At length out of his bosom he pull'd a paper:
It was the contract betwixt my lord and me;
And ask'd me if I would avow the hand.
Heaven, said I, has approv'd it, and the gods
Have chose this way to reunite our houses.
Stain of thy kindred's honour, he exclaims,
Was there no other man to ease your lust
But he that was our greatest enemy?
Resolve to die: thy blood shall hide the stains.
Of our dishonour.

HER. He could not be so cruel to intend it?

MIL. He was; for leaving me oppress'd with sighs
And tears, yet not of sorrow and repentance,
But fear that I should leave my dearest servant,
Commands his cruel slaves to murder me
As I descended; and lest pity should
Create remorse, in their obdurate hearts,
The lights were all put out. Then hastily
My name was heard. I then entreated her
That betray'd me to tell them I was coming,
And took this time to write unto my lord.
She went, but by the way was seiz'd
And strangled by those murderers
That expected me. My uncle heard
Her latest groans; and now the act was pass'd
His power to help, he wish'd it were undone:
Brings lights to see the body, and perceiv'd
The strange mistake. By signs and lifted eyes
Confess'd heaven's hand was in't; yet would not leave
His revenge here--commands his slaves to change
My clothes with hers was slain; then takes the head off,
And on the trunk did leave a note which told
My death for loving Lysicles, in hope my ruin,
Knowing his noble nature, would be his.
At midnight quits this town, leaving none behind
Were conscious of the fact--immures me in
His house; till I escap'd in that disguise
I wore when I first came to you.

IRE. Why did
You not declare yourself when you came hither?

MIL. You were the cause on't. At my arrival here
I heard my Lysicles should marry you,
And therefore kept the habit I was in,
To search unknown the truth of this report,
And practis'd in the private actions
Of some near friends, got an opinion
I could presage the future. Thus was I
Sought by you, thus [I] found the faith
Of my dear Lysicles, when at the tomb I did
Appear his ghost, and had reveal'd myself, had not
The shame of doubting such a faith kept my desires in.

HER. Then he dissembled when he made love to me?

MIL. He did. Forgive it him; 'twas for his friend.

HER. I am sorry for it.

MIL. How, my dear friend?

_Enter_ LYSICLES _and_ EUGENIO.

HER. Nay, it is true.
Eugenio and he are of such equal
Tempers I shall suspect he has dissembled too.

MIL. O, you are pleasant!
Here comes my lord.

LYS. Is there a wish beyond this happiness,
When I embrace thee thus? I will not ask
Thy story now: it is enough to know
That you are living.

MIL. The gods have made this trial in my sufferings,
If I deserv'd so great a blessing:
I have but one grief left.

LYS. Is that word yet on earth?

MIL. Yes, but it springs from an excessive joy
Of finding such admired worth in you.
What I hereafter shall do in your service
Must wear the name of gratitude, not love.

LYS. No, my Milesia,
Mine was the first engagement, and the gods
Made thee so excellent to keep on earth
Love that was flying hence, finding no object
Worthy to fix him here.

HER. No more, Eugenio: if your words could add
Expressions to your love, you had not had
So much of mine; and after I have tried
Your faith so many ways, it would appear
Ingratitude, not modesty, to show
A mistress' coldness.

EUG. May I believe all advantageous words,
Or may I doubt them, seeing they come from you,
Who are all truth? I will not speak
How undeserving I am of these favours,
Because I will not wrong th' election
Your gracious pity forceth on your judgment.

LYS. Our joys do multiply; but, my dear friend,
I have yet something that will add to yours.
My father's call'd to court, and you are left
Governor in his place; this, I know, will make
Lord Pindarus consent to both your wishes.
Your pardon, madam, and when you lie embrac'd
With your Eugenio, tell him, if my faith
Had not the double tie of friend and mistress,
A single one had yielded to the hopes
Of the enjoying you. Here comes my lord!

_Enter_ PINDARUS.

O my good lord, I must entreat your pardon
For a fault my love unto my friend engag'd me in:
Let your consent complete the happiness
Of these two perfect lovers; I am confident
You ever did approve his virtue: his fortune now
Can be no hindrance, since our gracious king,
In contemplation of his merits,
Hath made him governor in my father's place.

PIN. Most willingly I give it, since I've lost the
Hopes of being allied to you: heaven bless you both!
Sir, your own love of my Hermione,
And yours now, will teach you t' admit
An easy satisfaction for the troubles
My love unto my child hath thrown upon you.

EUG. You are all goodness, and my services,
Ever directed by your will, shall show,
Though I can never merit this great honour,
I will do nothing shall deprive me of
The honour of your love and favour.

PIN. Your virtue promiseth more than I may hear
From you. Once more, heaven bless you!
If my Lord Ergasto now were satisfied,
I shall be at peace; for, having promised
My daughter to him, I would not have him
Think that by me he's injur'd.

HER. 'Tis in your power, sir, to satisfy him.

PIN. I would do anything.

HER. Persuade my cousin to confess she loves him,
Which I do know she does; and he already
Has made profession of his unto my prejudice:
Nay, blush not, cousin, since you would not allow me
This secret as a friend, you may excuse
Th' inquisitiveness of a rival.

MIL. This is all truth, my lord, I can assure you.

PIN. Is't possible, Irene, do you love Ergasto?

IRE. Methinks your experience, uncle, should teach you
That such a question was not to be ask'd.
Well, if I did love[367] him, 'twas 'cause I thought
That he lov'd me; but if he does not,
I pardon him: for I am certain he
Once believ'd it himself.

PIN. If ever love
Make any deep impression in you,
I am deceiv'd.

IRE. His dart may strike as far into me
As into another, for aught you know, uncle.

PIN. You have ill-luck else, niece.

_Enter_ PHORMIO, ERGASTO, CLEON.

PHOR. Nay, it is most certain, the town is full of it:
Milesia, I know not how, is alive again:
Eugenio is made governor; though you were constant,
You can have no longer hopes of Hermione:
Therefore let me advise you, make that seem
Your own election which'll else be enforcement:
Quit your interest in Hermione, and renew
Your suit to Irene.

ERG. Observe me.

PIN. Welcome, my lords, do you know this lady?

ERG. Most perfectly, and came to congratulate
With the prince for her double recovery.

LYS. I thank you, my lord; and when my friend and you
Are reconcil'd, you may assure yourself
I am your servant.

ERG. What's in my power to give him satisfaction,
He may command.

EUG. Your friendship does it.

PIN. My lord, this reconcilement will make way
Unto my pardon: I have not been wanting
In my promise to you; but my daughter thinks she
Has chosen so well that, without my leave,
She hath made herself her own disposer.

ERG. Ages of happiness attend them! If I may hope to gain the
graces of the fair Irene, I shall be happy too.

PIN. If I have any power, she shall be yours.

LYS. Let me beg the honour of interceding; your fortunes and
conditions are so equal, it were a sin to part you.

PHOR. Pray, sir, let him do it himself: the task is not so hard
to require a mediator.

IRE. Have you such skill in perspective?

PHOR. As good as any chiromancer in Egypt, madam.

ERG. He has reason, for I have opened my breast to him, and he
has seen my heart, and you enthroned in't.

PHOR. He tells you true, lady.

IRE. Indeed, sir! And pray, what did it look like?

PHOR. Faith, to deal truly, much like the wheel of fortune
which, turning round, puts the same persons sometimes at top,
sometimes at bottom: but at last love shot his dart thorough
the axle-tree, and fixed you regent.

IRE. Well, I have considered, and my cousin's example shall
teach me.

ERG. What, in the name of doubt?

IRE. To avoid the infinite troubles you procured her by your
fruitless solicitations. D'ye think your tears shall cost me so
many tears as they have done her?

PIN. You may excuse them by consenting to your friend's desires.

MIL. Sweet madam, let me obtain this for him. He dies if you
deny him.

HER. Dear Irene, perfect the happiness of this day.

IRE. You have great reason to persuade me to take him you
abhorred.

HER. I was engaged.

IRE. Well, if any here will pass their words he can continue
constant a week, I will be disposed by you.

OMNES. We all will be engaged for him.

IRE. On this condition I admit him to a month's service, and
myself to a perpetual servitude.

ERG. I ever shall be yours.

IRE. My father said so, till my mother wept.[368]

EUG. A notable wooing this!

LYS. And as notably finish'd.
Let's now unto my father, who expects
You, to deliver his commission to you.
Come, my Milesia, tell my wounded heart
No more her sighs shall wander through the air,
Not knowing where to find thee: no more
Shall the mistaken tomb of false OEnone
Be moist'ned with my tears; yet, since she died
To save thy life, her ghost could not expect
A cheaper sacrifice. This I'll only add:
In memory of us, all lovers shall
Repute this day as their great festival.

FOOTNOTES:

[363] [Old copy, _your_.]

[364] [Old copy, _but_.]

[365] [Old copy; _your poor_.]

[366] [Old copy, _and_.]

[367] [Dodsley omitted _love_.]

[368] [Some of the sallies of the fair Irene remind us of Shakespeare's Beatrice.]

FINIS.

Transcriber's Notes:

Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were
corrected.

Punctuation normalized.

Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.

Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_.

Greek text is transliterated and enclosed in ~tildes~.