Chapter XIV: Act III: Scene I

_The same. A Gallery in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ MARULLO _and_ TIMANDRA.

_Mar._ Why, think you that I plot against myself[115]?
Fear nothing, you are safe: these thick-skinn'd slaves,
I use as instruments to serve my ends,
Pierce not my deep designs; nor shall they dare
To lift an arm against you.

_Timand._ With your will.
But turbulent spirits, raised beyond themselves
With ease, are not so soon laid; they oft prove
Dangerous to him that call'd them up.

_Mar._ 'Tis true,
In what is rashly undertook. Long since
I have consider'd seriously their natures,
Proceeded with mature advice, and know
I hold their will and faculties in more awe
Than I can do my own. Now, for their licence,
And riot in the city, I can make
A just defence and use: it may appear, too,
A politic prevention of such ills
As might, with greater violence and danger,
Hereafter be attempted; though some smart for 't,
It matters not:--however, I'm resolved;
And sleep you with security. Holds Cleora
Constant to her rash vow?

_Timand._ Beyond belief;
To me, that see her hourly, it seems a fable.
By signs I guess at her commands, and serve them
With silence; such her pleasure is, made known
By holding her fair hand thus. She eats little,
Sleeps less, as I imagine; once a day
I lead her to this gallery, where she walks
Some half a dozen turns, and, having offer'd
To her absent saint a sacrifice of sighs,
She points back to her prison.

_Mar._ Guide her hither,
And make her understand the slaves' revolt;
And, with your utmost eloquence, enlarge
Their insolence, and wrongs done in the city.
Forget not, too, I am their chief, and tell her
You strongly think my extreme dotage on her,
As I'm Marullo, caused this sudden uproar,
To gain possession of her.

_Timand._ Punctually
I will discharge my part. [_Exit._

_Enter_ POLIPHRON.

_Poliph._ O, sir, I sought you:
There's such variety of all disorders
Among the slaves; answer'd with crying, howling,
By the citizens and their wives; such a confusion,
In a word, not to tire you, as I think
The like was never read of.

_Mar._ This is some
Revenge for my disgrace.

_Poliph._ But, sir, I fear,
If your authority restrain them not,
They'll fire the city, or kill one another,
They are so apt to outrage; neither know I
Whether you wish it, and came therefore to
Acquaint you with so much.

_Mar._ I will among them;
But must not long be absent.

_Poliph._ At your pleasure. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTE:

[115] Mar. _Why, think you that I plot against myself?_] The plot
opens here with wonderful address; and the succeeding conference,
or rather scene, between Pisander and Cleora, is inimitably
beautiful.--GIFFORD.

SCENE II.

_The same. A Room in the same._

_Shouts within. Enter_ CLEORA _and_ TIMANDRA.

_Timand._ They are at our gates: my heart! affrights and horrors
Increase each minute. No way left to save us,
No flattering hope to comfort us, or means,
But miracle, to redeem us from base wrongs
And lawless rapine! Are there gods, yet suffer
Such innocent sweetness to be made the spoil
Of brutish violence? And, of these rebel slaves,
He that should offer up his life to guard you,
Marullo, cursed Marullo, your own bondman,
Purchased to serve you, and fed by your favours--
Nay, start not: it is he; he, the grand captain
Of these libidinous beasts, that have not left
One cruel act undone that barbarous conquest
Yet ever practised in a captive city;
He, doting on your beauty, and to have fellows
In his foul sin, hath raised these mutinous slaves.
Wring not your hands, 'tis bootless; use the means
That may preserve you. 'Tis no crime to break
A vow when you are forced to it; show your face,
And with the majesty of commanding beauty
Strike dead his loose affections: if that fail,
Give liberty to your tongue, and use entreaties:
There cannot be a breast of flesh and blood,
Or heart so made of flint, but must receive
Impression from your words; or eyes so stern,
But, from the clear reflection of your tears,
Must melt, and bear them company. Will you not
Do these good offices to yourself? poor I, then,
Can only weep your fortune.--Here he comes.

_Enter_ MARULLO, _speaking at the door_.

_Mar._ He that advances
A foot beyond this comes upon my sword:
You have had your ways, disturb not mine.

_Timand._ Speak gently;
Her fears may kill her else.

_Mar._ Now Love inspire me!
Still shall this canopy of envious night
Obscure my suns of comfort? and those dainties
Of purest white and red, which I take in at
My greedy eyes, denied my famish'd senses?--
The organs of your hearing yet are open;
And you infringe no vow, though you vouchsafe
To give them warrant to convey unto
Your understanding parts the story of
A tortured and despairing lover, whom
Not fortune but affection marks your slave:--
Shake not, best lady! for, believe 't, you are
As far from danger as I am from force:
All violence I shall offer tends no further
Than to relate my sufferings, which I dare not
Presume to do, till, by some gracious sign,
You show you are pleased to hear me.

_Timand._ If you are,
Hold forth your right hand.
[CLEORA _holds forth her right hand._

_Mar._ So, 'tis done; and I
With my glad lips seal humbly on your robe
My soul's thanks for the favour: I forbear
To tell you who I am, what wealth, what honours
I made exchange of, to become your servant:
And though I knew worthy Leosthenes
(For sure he must be worthy, for whose love
You have endured so much) to be my rival,
When rage and jealousy counsell'd me to kill him,
Which then I could have done with much more ease,
Than now, in fear to grieve you, I dare speak it,
Love, seconded with duty, boldly told me
The man I hated, fair Cleora favour'd;
And that was his protection. [CLEORA _bows._

_Timand._ See, she bows
Her head in sign of thankfulness.

_Mar._ He removed by
The occasion of the war, (my fires increasing
By being closed and stopp'd up,) frantic affection
Prompted me to do something in his absence
That might deliver you into my power,
Which you see is effected: and even now,
When my rebellious passions chide my dulness,
And tell me how much I abuse my fortunes,
Now it is in my power to bear you hence,
[CLEORA _starts._
(Nay, fear not, madam; true love is a servant,
But brutish lust a tyrant,) only thus much
Be pleased I may speak in my own dear cause;
And think it worthy your consideration,
(I have loved truly, cannot say deserved,
Since duty must not take the name of merit,)
That I so far prize your content, before
All blessings that my hope can fashion to me,
That willingly I entertain despair,
And, for your sake, embrace it; for I know,
This opportunity lost, by no endeavour
The like can be recover'd. To conclude,
Forget not that I lose myself to save you:
For what can I expect but death and torture,
The war being ended? and, what is a task
Would trouble Hercules to undertake,
I do deny you to myself, to give you,
A pure unspotted present, to my rival.
I have said: if it distaste not, best of virgins!
Reward my temperance with some lawful favour,
Though you contemn my person.
[CLEORA _kneels, then pulls off her glove, and
offers her hand to_ MARULLO.

_Timand._ See, she kneels,
And seems to call upon the gods to pay
The debt she owes your virtue: to perform which,
As a sure pledge of friendship, she vouchsafes you
Her fair right hand.

_Mar._ I am paid for all my sufferings.
Now, when you please, pass to your private chamber:
My love and duty, faithful guards, shall keep you
From all disturbance; and when you are sated
With thinking of Leosthenes, as a fee
Due to my service, spare one sigh for me.
[_Exeunt._ CLEORA _makes a low courtesy as she goes off._

SCENE III.

_The same. A Room in_ CLEON'_s House_.

_Enter_ GRACCULO, _leading_ ASOTUS _in an ape's habit, with a chain about his neck_; ZANTHIA _in_ CORISCA'_s clothes, she bearing up her train_.

_Grac._ Come on, sir.

_Asot._ Oh!

_Grac._ Do you grumble? you were ever
A brainless ass; but if this hold, I'll teach you
To come aloft and do tricks like an ape.
Your morning's lesson: if you miss----

_Asot._ O no, sir.

_Grac._ What for the Carthaginians? [ASOTUS
_makes moppes_[116].] A good beast.
What for ourself, your lord[117]? [_Dances._] Exceeding well.
There's your reward. [_Gives him an apple._]--Not
kiss your paw! So, so, so.

_Zant._ Was ever lady, the first day of her honour,
So waited on by a wrinkled crone? She looks now,
Without her painting, curling, and perfumes,
Like the last day of January. Further off!
So--stand there like an image; if you stir,
Till, with a quarter of a look, I call you,
You know what follows.

_Coris._ O, what am I fallen to!
But 'tis a punishment for my cruel pride,
Justly return'd upon me.

_Grac._ How dost thou like
Thy ladyship, Zanthia?

_Zant._ Very well; and bear it
With as much state as your lordship.

_Grac._ Give me thy hand:
Let us, like conquering Romans, walk in triumph[118],
Our captives following; then mount our tribunals,
And make the slaves our footstools.

_Zant._ Fine, by Jove!
Are your hands clean, minion?

_Coris._ Yes, forsooth.

_Zant._ Fall off then. She and I have changed our parts;
She does what she forced me to do in her reign,
And I must practise it in mine.

_Grac._ 'Tis justice:
O! here come more.

_Enter_ CIMBRIO, CLEON, POLIPHRON, _and_ OLYMPIA.

_Cimb._ Discover to a drachma,
Or I will famish thee.

_Cleon._ O! I am pined already.

_Poliph._ Spare the old jade, he's founder'd.

_Grac._ Cut his throat then,
And hang him out for a scarecrow.

_Poliph._ You have all your wishes
In your revenge, and I have mine. You see
I use no tyranny: once I was her slave,
And in requital of her courtesies,
Having made one another free, we are married:
And, if you wish us joy, join with us in
A dance at our wedding.

_Grac._ Agreed; for I have thought of
A most triumphant one, which shall express
We are lords, and these our slaves.

_Poliph._ But we shall want
A woman.

_Grac._ No, here's Jane-of-apes shall serve[119];
Carry your body swimming.--Where's the music?

_Poliph._ I have placed it in yon window.

_Grac._ Begin then sprightly.
[_Music, and then a dance._

_Enter_ MARULLO _behind_.

_Poliph._ Well done on all sides! I have prepared a banquet;
Let's drink and cool us.

_Grac._ A good motion.

_Cimb._ Wait here;
You have been tired with feasting, learn to fast now.

_Grac._ I'll have an apple for jack, and may be some scraps
May fall to your share.
[_Exeunt_ GRAC. ZANT. CIMB. POLIPH. _and_ OLYMP.

_Coris._ Whom can we accuse
But ourselves, for what we suffer? Thou art just,
Thou all-creating Power! and misery
Instructs me now, that yesterday acknowledged
No deity beyond my pride and pleasure,
There is a heaven above us, that looks down
With the eyes of justice, upon such as number
Those blessings freely given, in the accompt
Of their poor merits: else it could not be,
Now miserable I, to please whose palate
The elements were ransack'd, yet complain'd
Of nature, as not liberal enough
In her provision of rarities
To soothe my taste, and pamper my proud flesh,
Should wish in vain for bread.

_Cleon._ Yes, I do wish too,
For what I fed my dogs with.

_Coris._ I, that forgot
I was made of flesh and blood, and thought the silk
Spun by the diligent worm out of their entrails,
Too coarse to clothe me, and the softest down
Too hard to sleep on; that disdain'd to look
On virtue being in rags, that from my servants
Expected adoration, am made justly
The scorn of my own bondwoman.

_Cleon._ I know I cannot
Last long, that's all my comfort.

_Mar._ What a true mirror
Were this sad spectacle for secure greatness!
Here they, that never see themselves, but in
The glass of servile flattery, might behold
The weak foundation upon which they build
Their trust in human frailty. Happy are those,
That knowing, in their births, they are subject to
Uncertain change, are still prepared, and arm'd
For either fortune: a rare principle,
And, with much labour, learn'd in wisdom's school!
For, as these bondmen, by their actions, show
That their prosperity, like too large a sail
For their small bark of judgment, sinks them with
A fore-right gale of liberty, ere they reach
The port they long to touch at: so these wretches,
Swollen with the false opinion of their worth,
And proud of blessings left them, not acquired;
That did believe they could with giant arms
Fathom the earth, and were above their fates,
Those borrow'd helps, that did support them, vanish'd,
Fall of themselves, and by unmanly suffering
Betray their proper weakness, and make known
Their boasted greatness was lent, not their own.

_Cleon._ O for some meat! they sit long.

_Coris._ We forgot,
When we drew out intemperate feasts till midnight;
Their hunger was not thought on, nor their watchings;
Nor did we hold ourselves served to the height,
But when we did exact and force their duties
Beyond their strength and power.

_Asot._ We pay for 't now:

_Re-enter_ POLIPHRON, CIMBRIO, GRACCULO, ZANTHIA, _and_ OLYMPIA, _drunk and quarrelling_.

_Cimb._ Do not hold me:
Not kiss the bride!

_Poliph._ No, sir.

_Mar._ [_coming forward_] Hold!

_Zant._ Here's Marullo.

_Olymp._ He's your chief.

_Mar._ Take heed; I've news will cool this heat, and make you
Remember what you were.

_Cimb._ How!

_Mar._ Send off these,
And then I'll tell you.
[_Exeunt_ CLEON, ASOT. ZANT. OLYMP. _and_ CORIS.

_Cimb._ What would you impart?

_Mar._ What must invite you
To stand upon your guard, and leave your feasting;
Our masters are victorious.

_All._ How!

_Mar._ Within
A day's march of the city, flesh'd with spoil,
And proud of conquest; the armado sunk,
The Carthaginian admiral, hand to hand,
Slain by Leosthenes.

_Cimb._ I feel the whip
Upon my back already.

_Grac._ Every man
Seek a convenient tree, and hang himself.

_Poliph._ Better die once, than live an age to suffer
New tortures every hour.

_Cimb._ Say, we submit,
And yield us to their mercy?--

_Mar._ Can you flatter
Yourselves with such false hopes? Or dare you think
That your imperious lords, that never fail'd
To punish with severity petty slips
In your neglect of labour, may be won
To pardon those licentious outrages
Which noble enemies forbear to practise
Upon the conquer'd? We have gone too far
To think now of retiring; in our courage,
And daring, lies our safety: if you are not
Slaves in your abject minds, as in your fortunes,
Since to die is the worst, better expose
Our naked breasts to their keen swords, and sell
Our lives with the most advantage, than to trust
In a forestall'd remission, or yield up
Our bodies to the furnace of their fury,
Thrice heated with revenge.

_Grac._ You led us on.

_Cimb._ And 'tis but justice you should bring us off.

_Grac._ And we expect it.

_Mar._ Hear then, and obey me;
And I will either save you, or fall with you.
Man the walls strongly, and make good the ports;
Boldly deny their entrance, and rip up
Your grievances, and what compell'd you to
This desperate course: if they disdain to hear
Of composition, we have in our powers
Their aged fathers, children, and their wives,
Who, to preserve themselves, must willingly
Make intercession for us. 'Tis not time now
To talk, but do: a glorious end, or freedom,
Is now proposed us; stand resolved for either,
And, like good fellows, live or die together.
[_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[116] _Moppes_,] i. e. the quick and grinning motions of the teeth and
lips which apes make when they are irritated.

[117] _What for ourself, your lord?_] Here Asotus must be supposed to
leap, or rather tumble, in token of obedience. Our ancestors
certainly excelled us in the education which they bestowed on
their animals. Banks's horse far surpassed all that have been
brought up in the academy of Mr. Astley; and the apes of these
days are mere clowns to their progenitors. The apes of Massinger's
time were gifted with a pretty smattering of politics and
philosophy. The widow Wild had one of them: "He would _come over_
for all my friends, but was the dogged'st thing to my enemies! he
would sit upon his tail before them, and frown like John-a-napes
when the pope is named." _The Parson's Wedding._--GIFFORD.

[118] _Let us, like conquering Romans, walk in triumph._] Gracculo
speaks in the spirit of prophecy; for the _conquering Romans_ were
at this time struggling with their neighbours for a few miserable
huts to hide their heads in; and if any _captives followed_, or
rather preceded, their _triumphs_, it was a herd of stolen
beeves.--GIFFORD.

[119] _Jane-of-apes_;] Meaning Corisca: he plays upon _Jack-an-apes_,
the name he had given to Asotus.--GIFFORD.

SCENE IV.

_The Country near Syracuse. The Camp of_ TIMOLEON.

_Enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.

_Timag._ I am so far from envy, I am proud
You have outstripp'd me in the race of honour.
O 'twas a glorious day, and bravely won!
Your bold performance gave such lustre to
Timoleon's wise directions, as the army
Rests doubtful, to whom they stand most engaged
For their so great success.

_Leost._ The gods first honour'd,
The glory be the general's; 'tis far from me
To be his rival.

_Timag._ You abuse your fortune,
To entertain her choice and gracious favours
With a contracted brow; plumed Victory
Is truly painted with a cheerful look,
Equally distant from proud insolence,
And base dejection.

_Leost._ O Timagoras,
You only are acquainted with the cause
That loads my sad heart with a hill of lead;
Whose ponderous weight, neither my new-got honour,
Assisted by the general applause
The soldier crowns it with, nor all war's glories,
Can lessen or remove: and, would you please,
With fit consideration, to remember
How much I wrong'd Cleora's innocence
With my rash doubts; and what a grievous penance
She did impose upon her tender sweetness,
To pluck away the vulture, jealousy,
That fed upon my liver; you cannot blame me,
But call it a fit justice on myself,
Though I resolve to be a stranger to
The thought of mirth or pleasure.

_Timag._ You have redeem'd
The forfeit of your fault with such a ransom
Of honourable action, as my sister
Must of necessity confess her sufferings,
Weigh'd down by your fair merits; and, when she views you,
Like a triumphant conqueror, carried through
The streets of Syracusa, the glad people
Pressing to meet you, and the senators
Contending who shall heap most honours on you;
The oxen, crown'd with garlands, led before you,
Appointed for the sacrifice; and the altars
Smoking with thankful incense to the gods:
The soldiers chanting loud hymns to your praise,
The windows fill'd with matrons and with virgins,
Throwing upon your head, as you pass by,
The choicest flowers, and silently invoking
The queen of love, with their particular vows,
To be thought worthy of you; can Cleora
(Though, in the glass of self-love, she behold
Her best deserts) but with all joy acknowledge
What she endured was but a noble trial
You made of her affection? and her anger,
Rising from your too amorous cares, soon drench'd
In Lethe, and forgotten.

_Leost._ If those glories
You so set forth were mine, they might plead for me;
But I can lay no claim to the least honour
Which you, with foul injustice, ravish from her.
Her beauty in me wrought a miracle,
Taught me to aim at things beyond my power,
Which her perfections purchased, and gave to me
From her free bounties; she inspired me with
That valour which I dare not call mine own;
And, from the fair reflection of her mind,
My soul received the sparkling beams of courage.
She, from the magazine of her proper goodness,
Stock'd me with virtuous purposes; sent me forth
To trade for honour; and, she being the owner
Of the bark of my adventures, I must yield her
A just account of all, as fits a factor.
And, howsoever others think me happy,
And cry aloud, I have made a prosperous voyage;
One frown of her dislike at my return,
Which, as a punishment for my fault, I look for,
Strikes dead all comfort.

_Timag._ Tush! these fears are needless;
She cannot, must not, shall not, be so cruel.
A free confession of a fault wins pardon,
But, being seconded by desert, commands it.
The general is your own, and, sure, my father
Repents his harshness; for myself, I am
Ever your creature.--One day shall be happy
In your triumph, and your marriage.

_Leost._ May it prove so,
With her consent and pardon.

_Timag._ Ever touching
On that harsh string! She is your own, and you
Without disturbance seize on what's your due.
[_Exeunt._