Give an account to any but to Heaven And her fair self, Foscari, thou shalt tell her, I love her with chaste and noble fire; my in-
Fair as her brow: tell her, I dare proclaim it In my devotions, at that minute when I know a million of adoring spirits Hover about the altar. I do love her.
Fosc. Enough-enough: my lord, be pleased to hear
What I have now to say. You have express'd A brave and noble soul, but I must not Carry this message to her; therefore take Your own words back again. I love Cleona With chaste and noble fire; my intents are Fair as her brow: I dare proclaim it, sir, In my devotions, at that minute when I know a million of adoring spirits Hover about the altar.
Duke. Do you mock me?
Cornari. Rise! with thy tears I kiss Away thy tremblings. I suspect thy honour? My heart will want faith to believe an angel, That should traduce thy fair name; thou art chaste As the white down of heaven, whose feathers play Upon the wings of a cold winter's gale, Trembling with fear to touch th' impurer earth. How are the roses frighted in thy cheeks To paleness, weeping out transparent dew, When a loose story is but named? thou art
Fosc. Pardon a truth, my lord: I have apparell'd The miracle of a chaste wife, from which fair
My own sense with your language.
Duke. Do you come
To affront us? you had better ha' been sleeping In your cold urn, as fame late gave you out, And mingled with the rude forgotten ashes, Than live to move our anger.
Fosc. Spare your frowns.
This earth weighs not my spirit down; a fear Would dye the paleness of my father's dust Into a blush. Sir, many are alive Will swear I did not tremble at a cannon, When it struck thunder in mine ear, and wrapt My head in her blue mists. It is not breath Can fright a noble truth, nor is there magic I' the person of a king that plays the tyrant, But a good sword can easily uncharm it.
Duke. You threaten us.
Fosc. Heaven avert so black a thought! Though in my honour's cause I can be flame, My blood is frost to treason: make me not Belie my heart, for I do love Cleona, And, my blood tells me, above all You can affect her with no birth or state Can challenge a prerogative in love. Nay, be not partial, and you shall ascribe To mine love's victory, for though I admit You value her above your dukedom-health ; That you would sacrifice your blood to avert Any mishap should threaten that dear head, All this is but above yourself; but I Love her above herself. And while you can But give your life, and all you have, to do Cleona service, I can give away Herself Cleona's self, in my love to her. I see you are at loss-I'll reconcile All-she is yours; this minute ends my claim. Live and enjoy her happily; may you be Famous in that beauteous empire, she Blest in so great a lord!
Original, drawn out by Heaven's own hand, To have had one copy I had writ perfection.
Without a fresh wound, that thy love to me Should be so ill rewarded? thou hast engaged Thyself too much already; 'tis within Thy will yet to be safe,-reveal thyself, Throw off the cloud that doth eclipse that bright. And they will court thy person, and be proud With all becoming honour to receive thee; No fear shall rob thy cheek of her chaste blood. Oh, leave me to my own stars, and expect, Whate'er become of wretched Ferdinand, A happy fate.
Ros. Your counsel is unkind; This language would become your charity To a stranger, but my interest is more In thee, than thus with words to be sent off. Our vows have made us one, nor can the names Of father, country, or what can be dear In nature, bribe one thought to wish myself In heaven without thy company: it were poor, then, To leave thee here. Then, by thy faith I charge thee; By this, the first and last seal of our love; [Kisses him. By all our promises, when we did flatter Ourselves, and in our fancy took the world A pieces, and collected what did like Us best, to make us a new Paradise ;
By that, the noblest ornament of thy soul, Thy honour, I conjure thee, let me still Be undiscover'd. What will it avail
To leave me, whom thou lovest, and walk alone, Sad pilgrim, to another world? We will Converse in soul, and shoot like stars whose beams Are twisted, and make bright the sullen groves Of lovers, as we pass.
Fer. These are but dreams Of happiness: be wise, Rosania,
Thy love is not a friend to make thee miserable; Society in death, where we affect,
But multiplies our grief. Live thou, oh live! And if thou hast a tear, when I am dead, But drop it to my memory, it shall More precious than embalming dwell upon me, And keep my ashes pure; my spirit shall At the same instant, in some innocent shape, Descend upon that earth thou hast bedew'd, And, kissing the bright tribute of thine eye, Shall after wait like thy good angel on thee. There will be none to speak of Ferdinand Without disdain if thou diest too. Oh, live A little to defend me, or at least
To say I was no traitor to thy love;
And lay the shame on death and my false stars, That would not let me live to be a king.
Ros. O Ferdinand !
Thou dost not love me now?
Fer. Not love, Rosania?
If wooing thee to live will not assure thee, Command me then to die, and spare the cruelty Of the fair queen. Not love, Rosania?
If thou wilt but delight to see me bleed,
I will at such a narrow passage let
Out life, it shall be many hours in ebbing; And my soul, bathing in the crimson stream, Take pleasure to be drown'd. I have small time To love and be alive, but I will carry So true a faith to woman hence as shall Make poor the world, when I am gone to tell The story yonder.—We are interrupted.
Persons, besides the Prisoner at the bar and his Page, are OLIVIA the supposed QUEEN OF MURCIA; Officers; ERNESTO, RODRIGUEZ, LEANDRO, and LEONARIO; Noblemen, Ladies, Gentlemen, and Guard.
Queen. Is that the prisoner at the bar? Leon. He that pretended himself Ferdinand, Your uncle's son.
Queen. Proceed to his arraignment. My lord You know our pleasure. [Leandro, Leandro. Although the queen in her own royal
And without violating sacred justice, where Treason comes to invade her and her crown With open war, need not insist upon The forms and circumstance of law, but use Her sword in present execution,
Yet such is the sweet temper of her blood And calmness of her nature, though provoked Into a storm, unto the greatest offender She shuts up no defence, willing to give A satisfaction to the world how much She doth delight in mercy. Ferdinand, For so thou dost pretend thyself, thou art Indicted of high treason to her majesty, In that thou hast usurp'd relation to Her blood, and, under name of being her kinsman, Not only hast contrived to blast her honour With neighbouring princes, but has gather'd arms To wound the precious bosom of her country, And tear the crown, which heaven and just suc-
With mockery of my fate, to be arraign'd For being a prince, have any thought beneath The title I was born to. Yet I'll not call This cruelty in you, nor in the queen, (If I may name her so without injustice To my own right); a kingdom is a garland Worth all contention, and where right seals not The true possession nature is forgotten,
And blood thought cheap to assure it. There is something
Within that excellent figure that restrains
A passion here, that else would forth like lightning: 'Tis not your shape, which yet hath so much sweet- Some pale religious hermit might suspect [ness; You are the blessed saint he pray'd to: no, The magic's in our nature and our blood, For both our veins, full of one precious purple, Strike harmony in their motion; I am Ferdinand, And you the fair Olivia, brother's children.
Sure has some name: declare him, that he may Thank you for his award, and lose his head for't. Queen. We always see that men, in such high nature
Deform'd and guilty, want no specious shapes To gain their practice, friendship, and compassion;
Ern. Speak to the treason you are charged with, But he shall feel the punishment. D' you smile?
And confess a guilt.
Leon. He justifies himself.
Fer. If it be treason to be born a prince, To have my father's royal blood move here; If it be treason in my infancy
To have escaped by Divine Providence, When my poor life should have been sacrificed To please a cruel uncle, whose ambition Surprised my crown, and after made Olivia, His daughter, queen; if it be treason to Have been a stranger thus long from my country, Bred up with silence of my name and birth, And not till now mature to own myself Before a sunbeam; if it be treason, After so long a banishment, to weep A tear of joy upon my country's bosom And call her mine, my just inheritance, Unless you stain my blood with bastardy; If it be treason still to love this earth, That knew so many of my race her kings, Though late unkindly arm'd to kill her sovereign, As if the effusion of my blood were left To make her fertile; if to love Olivia, My nearest pledge of blood, although her power Hath chain'd her prince, and made her lord her Who sits with expectation to hear [prisoner, That sentence that must make the golden wreath Secure upon her brow by blasting mine: If this be treason, I am guilty. Ferdinand, Your king's become a traitor, and must die A black and most inglorious death.
At some defence, but come not home. By what Engine were you translated hence, or whither Convey'd ? There was some trust deceived when you
Were carried forth to be preserved, and much Care taken since in bringing of you up, And giving secret fire to this ambition.
Fer. There wants no testimony here of what Concerns the story of my birth and infancy, If one dare speak and be an honest lord-
Fer. Whose love and art secured me from all tyranny,
Though here my funeral was believed; while I, Sent to an honourable friend, his kinsman, Grew safely to the knowledge of myself At last, till fortune of the war betray'd me To this captivity.
Leand. I blush at thee,
Young man, whose fall has made thee desperate, And carest not what man's blood thou draw'st along,
As hateful as thy crimes.
Ern. That confederate
Fer. A woman's anger is but worth it, madam ; And if I may have freedom, I must say, Not in contempt of what you seem, nor help'd By overcharge of passion, which but makes A fruitless noise, I have a sense of what I am to lose, a life; but I am so fortified With valiant thoughts and innocence, I shall, When my last breath is giving up to lose Itself in the air, be so remote from fear, That I will cast my face into a smile, Which shall, when I am dead, acquit all trembling, And be a story to the world how free
From paleness Ferdinand took leave of earth. Ros. Alas! my lord, you forget me, that can Part with so much courage.
I thought of death with honour, but my love Hath found a way to chide me. Oh, my boy! I can weep now.
Leon. A sudden change: he weeps. Queen. What boy is that?
Fer. I prithee take thyself away.
Queen. Your spirit does melt, it seems, and you begin to think
A life is worth preserving though with infamy.
Fer. Goodness, thy aid again, and tell this great, Proud woman, I have a spirit scorns her pity. Come hither, boy, and let me kiss thee: thus, At parting with a good and pretty servant, I can without my honour stain'd shed tears.
I took thee from thy friends to make thee mineIs it not truth, boy?
Leon. My lord, Leandro's gone.
Ern. His censure will
Be one with ours.
Fer. Yet shall I publish who
Thou art? I shall not die with a calm soul And leave thee in this cloud.
Ros. By no means, sir. The queen. Queen. Whose service is so forward to our state, That when our pleasure 's known not to proceed, They dare be officious in his sentence? Are We queen, or do we move by your protection? Ern. Madam, the prince-
Queen. My lord, you have a queen : I not suspect his wisdom, sir, but he Hath no commission here to be a judge; You were best circumscribe our regal power, And by yourselves condemn or pardon all, And we sign to your will. The offence which you Call treason strikes at us, and we release it. Let me but see one curl in any brow; Attend the prisoner hither-Kiss our hand. Are you so merciless to think this man
Fit for a scaffold ?—You shall, sir, be near us; And if in this confusion of your fortunes You can find gratitude and love, despair not: These men, that now oppose, may find your title Clear to the kingdom too. Be, sir, collected, And let us love your arm.
[Exit, supported by FERDINAND. Ros. What change is here?
Leand. What think you of this, lords? Rodriq. I dare not think.
Leon. Affronted thus! Oh, my vex'd heart! Ros. I'll follow still; and, if this be no dream, We have 'scaped a brook to meet a greater stream.
FROM "THE LADY OF PLEASURE." ARETINA, SIR THOMAS BORNWELL's lady, and his
Stew. These, with your pardon, are no argument To make the country life appear so hateful, At least to your particular, who enjoy'd A blessing in that calm, would you be pleased To think so, and the pleasure of a kingdom: While your own will commanded what should move Delights, your husband's love and power join'd To give your life more harmony. You lived there Secure and innocent, beloved of all ; Praised for your hospitality, and pray'd for: You might be envied, but malice knew Not where you dwelt.-I would not prophesy, But leave to your own apprehension What may succeed your change.
No doubt, you have talk'd wisely, and confuted London past all defence. Your master should Do well to send you back into the country With title of superintendant bailiff.
Steward. Be patient, madam, you may have your Of our return by sale of that fair lordship pleasure.
Aret. 'Tis that I came to town for; I would not Endure again the country conversation To be the lady of six shires! the men, So near the primitive making, they retain A sense of nothing but the earth; their brains And barren heads standing as much in want Of ploughing as their ground: to hear a fellow Make himself merry and his horse with whistling Sellinger's Round; t' observe with what solemnity They keep their wakes, and throw for pewter candlesticks;
How they become the morris, with whose bells They ring all into Whitsun ales, and swear Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the hobby- horse
Tire, and the maid-marian, dissolved to a jelly, Be kept for spoon-meat.
We lived in; changed a calm and retire life For this wild town, composed of noise and charge? Aret. What charge more than is necessary For a lady of my birth and education ?
Born. I am not ignorant how much nobility Flows in your blood; your kinsmen, great and powerful
I' th' state, but with this lose not your memory Of being my wife. I shall be studious, Madam, to give the dignity of your birth All the best ornaments which become my fortune, But would not flatter it to ruin both, And be the fable of the town, to teach Other men loss of wit by mine, employ'd To serve your vast expenses.
Aret. Am I then
Brought in the balance so, sir?
Born. Though you weigh
Me in a partial scale, my heart is honest, And must take liberty to think you have Obey'd no modest counsel to affect, Nay study, ways of pride and costly ceremony. Your change of gaudy furniture, and pictures Of this Italian master and that Dutchman's; Your mighty looking-glasses, like artillery, Brought home on engines; the superfluous plate, Antique and novel; vanities of tires; Fourscore pound suppers for my lord, your kinsman; Banquets for t'other lady aunt, and cousins; And perfumes that exceed all: train of servants, To stifle us at home and show abroad, More motley than the French or the Venetian, About your coach, whose rude postilion Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers And tradesmen curse your choking up their stalls, And common cries pursue your ladyship For hind'ring o' the market.
Aret. Have you done, sir?
Born. I could accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe And prodigal embroideries, under which Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare Not show their own complexions. Your jewels, Able to burn out the spectator's eyes, And show like bonfires on you by the tapers. Something might here be spared, with safety of Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth Shines from the soul, and draws up just admirers. I could urge something more.
Aret. Pray do; I like
Your homily of thrift.
Born. I could wish, madam, You would not game so much.
Aret. A gamester too?
'Born. But you are not to that repentance yet Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit; You look not through the subtlety of cards And mysteries of dice, nor can you save Charge with the box, buy petticoats and pearls, And keep your family by the precious income. Nor do I wish you should. My poorest servant Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire Purchased beneath my honour. You may play, Not a pastime but a tyranny, and vex Yourself and my estate by 't.
Born. Another game you have, which consumes Your fame than purse; your revels in the night, Your meetings call'd the Ball, to which appear, As to the court of pleasure, all your gallants And ladies, thither bound by a subpoena Of Venus and small Cupid's high displeasure; "Tis but the Family of Love translated Into a more costly sin. There was a Play on't, And had the poet not been bribed to a modest Expression of your antic gambols in't, Some deeds had been discover'd, and the deeds too In time he may repent and make some blush To see the second part danced on the stage. My thoughts acquit you for dishonouring me By any foul act, but the virtuous know
Born. I have done; and howsoever My language may appear to you, it carries No other than my fair and just intent To your delights, without curb to their fair And modest freedom.
Aret. I'll not be so tedious
In my reply, but without art or elegance Assure you I still keep my first opinion; And though you veil your avaricious meaning With handsome names of modesty, and thrift, I find you would entrench and wound the liberty I was born with were my desires unprivileged By example, while my judgment thought 'em fit You ought not to oppose; but when the practice And tract of every honourable lady Authorise me, I take it great injustice To have my pleasures circumscribed and taught me. A narrow-minded husband is a thief
To his own fame, and his preferment too; He shuts his parts and fortunes from the world, While from the popular vote and knowledge men Rise to employment in the state.
No great ambition to buy preferment At so dear a rate.
Aret. Nor I to sell my honour
By living poor and sparingly. I was not Bred in that ebb of fortune, and my fate
Shall not compel me to 't.
Born. I know not, madam, But you pursue these ways.
Aret. What ways?
Born. In the strict sense of honesty I dare Make oath they are innocent.
By busy troubling of your brain, those thoughts That should preserve them.
Born. How was that?
Aret. 'Tis English.
Born. But carries some unkind sense.
Aret. What's your news, sir? Stew. Madam, two gentlemen.
Aret. What gentlemen; have they no names? Stew. They are-
The gentleman with his own head of hair, Whom you commended for his horsemanship In Hyde Park, and becoming [so] the saddle, The other day.
Aret. What circumstance is this To know him by?
Stew. His name 's at my tongue's endHe liked the fashion of your pearl chain, madam, And borrow'd it for his jeweller to take
Born. What cheating gallant 's this?
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