The Engliſh-Moor.
ACT 2. SCENE I.
Lucy. Phillis.
Lu.Y’are the firſt Maid that ere I entertain’d
Upon ſo ſmall acquaintance. Yet y’are welcom,
I like your hand and carriage.
But love, they ſay ſweet Miſtriſs, is receiv’d
At the firſt ſight, and why not ſervice then,
Which often brings more abſolute returns
Of the dear truſt impos’d, and firmer faith
By Servants then by Lovers?
I may, by that, conjecture you have been
Deceiv’d by ſome falſe Lover.
I hope I look too merrily for ſuch a one,
Somewhat too courſly too, to be belov’d;
If I were ſad and handſome, then it might
Be thought I were a little love ſick. Pray
How long has this diſeaſe affected you;
This melancholy, Miſtriſs? Not ever ſince
You loſt your father I hope.
Thou ſaidſt, me thought, that love might be tane in
Phi.There ’tis. I find her.
Love, Miſtriſs? yes, a Maid may take in more
Love at one look, or at a little loop-hole,
Then all the Doddy-poles in Town can purge
Out of her while ſhe lives; ſhe ſmothring it,
And not make known her paſſion. There’s the miſchief!
Lu.Suppoſe ſhe love an enemy to her houſe.
Phi.An enemy! Put caſe the caſe were yours.
[B3v]Lu.
or the Mock-Marriage.
Lu.But ’tis no caſe of mine; put by I pray thee.
Phi.I’le put it to you though I miſs your caſe.
Suppoſe it were your houſe, and Maſter
Arthur,
Whoſe father was your fathers enemy,
Were your belov’d – – – – – –
Phi.Now I have ſtruck the vein. Suppoſe I ſay,
All this were true! would you confound your ſelf
In ſmothering your love, which, in it ſelf,
Is pure and innocent, until it grow
To a pernicious diſeaſe within you;
And hide it in your boſom, till it work
Your kindled heart to aſhes?
My patience to attention: Therefore tell me
If thou canſt find or think it honourable
In me to take ſuch an affection?
Phi.Yes, and religious; moſt commendable,
Could you but win his love into a marriage,
To beget peace between your families.
How many, and what great examples have we,
From former ages, and of later times,
Of ſtrong diſſentions between furious factions,
That to their oppoſite houſes have drawn in
Eithers Allies and Friends, whole Provinces,
Yea, Kingdoms into deadly oppoſition;
Till the wide wounds on both ſides have ſent forth
Rivers of blood, which onely have been ſtop’d
By the ſoft bands of love in marriages
Of equal branches, ſprung from the firſt roots
Of all thoſe Hell-bred hatreds!
Lu.My good Maid– – – – – –
Phi.Yes, I have been a good one to my grief.
Lu.Thou haſt given me ſtrength to tell thee, and I hope
When it is told, I ſhall have yet more eaſe.
Phi.I warrant you Miſtriſs. Therefore out with it.
B 4[r]Lu.
The Engliſh-Moor.
Lu.I love that worthy Gentleman; and am confident
That in the time of our two fathers friendſhip
He’affected me no leſs: But ſince that time
I have not ſeen him, nor dare mention him
To wrong my brothers patience, who is ſo paſſionate,
That could he but ſuſpect I bred a thought
That favour’d him, I were for ever loſt.
For this ſad cauſe, as well as for the loſs
Of my dear Father, I have ſigh’d away
Twelve Moons in ſilent ſorrow; and have heard
That
Arthur too (but for what cauſe I know not)
Has not been ſeen abroad; but ſpends his time
As much for the ſuppoſed loſs of you,
Lu.The beſt conſtruction,
I make of his retiredneſs, is the bleſt
Prevention (which I daily pray for) of
A fatal meeting ’twixt him and my Brother,
Which would be ſure the death of one or both.
And now that fear invades me, as it does alwayes,
My Brother being abroad; and ſuch an abſence
Has not been uſual: I have not ſeen him
Since yeſterday – – – –
(your mind,
Phi.Fear nothing, Miſtriſs. Now you have eas’d
Let me alone to comfort you. And ſee your Brother.
The.How is it with you Siſter?
Enter Theoph.
Phi.Much better now then when you left me Brother,
If no ill accident has happend you
Since your departure; as I fear there has:
Why look you elſe ſo ſadly? ſpeak, dear Brother.
I hope you did not meet the man you hate.
If you did, ſpeak. If you have fought and ſlain him,
I charge you tell, that I may know the worſt
Of fortune can befal me: I ſhall gain
[B4v]Per-
Or the Mock-Marriage.
The.You ſpeak as if you lov’d the man I hate,
And that you fear I have kil’d him.
Of him I aſſure you Sir; but of your ſelf.
Her fear in this caſe, Sir, is that the Law
May take from her the comfort of her life
In taking you from her, and ſo ſhe were
But a dead woman. We were ſpeaking
Of ſuch a danger juſt as you came in;
And truly, Sir, my heart even tremble-tremble-trembles,
To think upon it yet. Pray, Sir, reſolve her.
The.Then ’twas your frivolous fear that wrought
Good Siſter be at peace: for, by my love to you,
(An oath I will not violate) I neither ſaw
Nor ſought him, I. But other thoughts perplex me.
Lu.What, were you at the wedding, Brother?
The.Whoſe wedding, Siſter
?
Lu.Your loſt love
Millicents. Are you now ſad
After your laſt leave taking?
Lu.There may be other matches, my good Brother– – – –
The.You wrong me ſhamefully, to think that I
Can think of other then her memorie.
Though ſhe be loſt and dead to me, can you
Be ſo unnatural as to deſire
The ſeparation of a thought of mine
From her dear memorie; which is all the comfort
My heart is married to, or I can live by.
Phi.Surely good Sir, in my opinion,
Sharp, eager ſtomacks may be better fed
With a’ery ſmell of meat, then the bare thought
Of the moſt curious dainties – – – – –
The.What piece of impudence have you receiv’d
Lu.Pray Brother pardon me.
[B5r]I
The Engliſh-Moor,
I took her, as I find her, for my comfort,
She has by councel and diſcourſe wrought much
Eaſe and delight into my troubled thoughts.
The.Good Maid forgive me; and my gentle Siſter,
I pray thee bear with my deſtractions.
Phi.A good natur’d Gentleman for all his haſty flaſhes.
The.And now I’le tell you Siſter (do not chide me)
The.I am ingag’d unto a Gentleman,
(A noble valiant Gentleman) for my life,
By hazarding his own, in my behalf.
Lu.It was then againſt
Arthur.
What villain was’t durſt take your cauſe in hand
The.You wrong me beyond ſuffrance,
And my dear fathers blood within your ſelf,
In ſeeming careful of that mans ſafety – – – – –
Phi.His ſafety Sir? Alas! ſhe means, he is
A villain that would take the honor of
His death out of your hands, if he muſt fall
The.Again, I aſk you pardon. But I had
A quarrel yeſterday, that drew ſtrong odds
Upon my ſingle perſon; Three to one:
When, at the inſtant, that brave Gentleman
With his ſword, ſides me, puts’em all to flight – – – – –
Lu.But how can that afflict you?
Lu.Good Brother I ha’done.
That I not know the man, to whom I am
So much ingag’d, to give him thanks at leaſt.
Enter
O Sir y’are welcome, though we parted ſomewhat
Nath.
[B5v]The.
Or the Mock-Marriage.
The.Pray thee
Nat. tell me, for I hope thou know’ſt him;
What Gentleman was that came in betwixt us?
Nat.If the devil know him no better, he will loſe
A part of his due I think. But to the purpoſe,
I knew your wonted nature would be friends
With me before I could come at you. However, I
Have news for you that might deſerve your love,
Were you my deadly enemy.
Nat.Sweet Miſtriſs
Lucy ſo long unſaluted?
Kiſs.
Lu.My Brother attends your news Sir.
Nat.My Wench become her Chamber-maid! very
How the Jade mumps for fear I ſhould diſcover her.
The.Your news good
Nat? what is it ready made,
Or are you now but coining it?
Nat.No, it was coin’d laſt night, o’the right ſtamp,
And paſſes current for your good. Now know,
That I, and
Mun, and
Vince, with divers others
Of our Comrades, were laſt night at the Bride-houſe.
The.What miſchief did you there?
Nat.A Maſque, a Maſque lad, in which we preſented
The miſeries of inforced Marriages
So lively – – – – – Zooks, lay by your captious countenance,
Lu.Good brother do, it has a fine beginning,
Nat.But mark what follows;
This morning, early up we got again,
And with our Fidlers made a freſh aſſault
And battery ’gainſt the bed-rid bride-grooms window.
With an old ſong, a very wondrous old one,
Of all the cares, vexations, fears and torments,
That a decrepit, naſty, rotten Husband
Meets in a youthful, beauteous, ſprightly wife:
So as the weak wretch will ſhortly be afraid,
That his own feebler ſhadow makes him Cuckold.
[B6r]Our
The Engliſh-Moor,
Our Maſque o’er night begat a ſeparation
Betwixt’em before bed time: for we found
Him at one window, coughing and ſpitting at us;
She at another, laughing, and throwing money
Down to the Fidlers, while her Uncle
Teſty,
From a third Port-hole raves, denouncing Law,
And thundring ſtatutes ’gainſt their Minſtralſie.
Lu.Would he refuſe his bride-bed the firſt night?
Nat.Our Horn-maſque put him off it, (bleſs my in-
For which, I think, you’l Judge ſhe’le forſake him
All nights and dayes hereafter. Here’s a bleſſing
Prepard now for you, if you have grace to follow it.
The.Out of my houſe, that I may kill thee; Go:
For here it were inhoſpitable. Hence,
Thou buſie vaillain, that with ſugard malice
Haſt poyſon’d all my hopes; ruin’d my comforts
In that ſweet ſoul for ever. Go, I ſay,
That I may with the ſafety of my man-hood,
Right me upon that miſchievous head of thine.
Nat.Is this your way of thanks for courteſies;
Or is’t our luck alwayes to meet good friends,
And never part ſo? yet before I go,
I will demand your reaſon
(if you have any)
Wherein our friendly care can prejudice you;
Or poyſon any hopes of yours in
Millicent?
Lu.Pray brother tell him.
Satiſfied, that I did but Juſtice on him,
In killing him. That villain, old in miſchief,
(Hell take him) that has married her, conceives
It was my plot (I know he does
) and, for
A ſure revenge, will either work her death
By poyſon, or ſome other cruelty,
Or keep her lock’d up in ſuch miſery,
[B6v]That
or the Mock-Marriage
That I ſhall never ſee her more.
The.Not in a word, let me intreat you, go.
Nat.Fair Miſtriſs
Lucy – – – – –
The.Neither ſhall ſhe hear you.
Nat.Her Maid ſhall then: or I’le not out to night.
Phil.On what acquaintance Sir.
He takes
Nat.Be not afraid: I take no notice o’thee,
her aſide.
I like thy courſe, Wench, and will keep thy councel,
And come ſometimes, and bring thee a bit and th’wilt.
Phi.I’le ſee you choak’d firſt.
Nat.Thou art not the firſt
Caſt Wench that has made a good Chamber-maid.
Phi.O you are baſe, and I could claw your eyes
Nat.Pray tell your Maſter now: ſo fare you
Exit.
Lu.I thank you, Brother, that you promiſe me
You will not follow him now, ſome other time
Will be more fit. What ſaid he to you,
Phillis?
Phi.Marry he ſaid (help me good apron ſtrings.)
The.What was it that he ſaid?
It was in anſwer, Sir, of your objections.
Firſt, that you fear’d the old man, wickedly,
Would make away his wife: to which he ſaies,
That is not to be fear’d, while ſhe has ſo
Much fear of Heaven before her eyes. And next,
That he would lock her up from ſight of man:
To which he anſwers, ſhe is ſo indued
With wit of woman, that were ſhe lock’d up,
Or had locks hung upon her, locks upon locks;
Locks of prevention, or ſecurity:
Yet being a woman, ſhe would have her will;
And break thoſe locks as eaſily as her Wedlock.
Laſtly, for your acceſs unto her ſight;
If you have Land he ſaies to ſell or Mortgage,
He’le undertake his doors, his wife and all,
[B7r]Shall
The Engliſh-Moor,
Shall fly wide open to you.
Lu.Troth, but tis like his wild way of expreſſion.
Phi.Yes; I knew that: my wit elſe had been puzzl’d.
The.And now I find my ſelf inſtructed by him;
And friends with him again. Now,
Arnold, any tidings.
Ar.Not of the gentleman that fought for you.
Ent. Arn.
But I have other newes thats worth your knowledge.
Your enemy, young
Arthur, that has not
Been ſeen abroad this twel’moneth is got forth
In a diſguiſe I hear, and weapon’d well.
I have it from moſt ſure inteligence.
Lu.My blood chills again.
The.Pſeugh, Ile not think of him. To dinner ſiſter.
ACT. 2 SCENE. 2.
Quick-ſands. Teſty. Millicent.
Qui.Here was a good-night, and good morrow to
Given by a crew of Devils.
Mil.Smart, Sir, did you ſay?
I think ’twas ſmart enough for a young Bride
To be made lye alone, and gnaw the ſheets
Mil.But for your ſatiſfaction, as I hope
To gain your favour as you are my Uncle,
Ent. Buz
I know not any acter in this buſineſs.
with a paper
Buz.Sir, her’s a letter thrown into the entry.
Quick. reads it.
Teſ.It is ſome villanous libel then I warrant.
Sawſt thou not who convai’d it in?
Buz.Not I. I onely found it, Sir.
[B7v]Qui.
or the Mock-Marriage.
Qui.Pray read it you. Not my own houſe free from’em!
The devil ow’d me a ſpight; and when he has plow’d
An old mans luſt up, he ſits grinning at him.
Nay, I that have ſo many gallant enemies
On fire, to do me miſchief, or diſgrace;
That I muſt provide tinder for their ſparks!
The very thought bears weight enough to ſink me.
Mil.May I be worthy, Sir, to know your trouble?
Qui.Do you know your ſelf?
Mil.Am I your trouble then?
Qui.Tis ſworn and written in that letter there
Thou ſhalt be wicked. Hundreds have tane oaths
To make thee falſe, and me a horned Monſter.
Mil.And does that trouble you?
Teſ.Does it not you?
(tience,
Mil.A dream has done much more. Pray, Sir, your pa-
And now I will be ſerious, and endeavour
To mend your faith in me. Is’t in their power
To deſtroy vertue, think you; or do you
Suppoſe me falſe already; tis perhaps
Their plot to drive you into that opinion.
And ſo to make you caſt me out amongſt’em:
You may do ſo upon the words of ſtrangers;
And if they tell you all your gold is counterfeit,
Teſ.Now ſhee ſpeaks woman.
Mil.But ſince theſe men pretend, and you ſuppoſe ’em
To be my friends, that carry this preſumption
Over my will, Ile take charge of my ſelf,
And do fair juſtice, both on them and you:
My honour is my own; and i’m no more
Yours yet, on whom my Uncle has beſtowed me,
Then all the worlds (the ceremony off)
And will remain ſo, free from them and you;
Who, by the falſe light of their wild-fire flaſhes
Have ſlighted and deprav’d me and your bride bed;
[B8r]Till
The Engliſh-Moor.
Till you recant your wilfull ignorance,
And they their petulant folly.
Mil.Both they and you trench on my Peace and Honor;
Dearer then beauty, pleaſure wealth and fortune;
I would ſtand under the fall of my eſtate
Moſt chearefully, and ſing: For there be wayes
To raiſe up fortunes ruines, were her towers
Shattered in pieces, and the glorious ball
Shee ſtands on cleft aſunder: But for Peace
Once ruin’d, there’s no reparation;
If Honour fall, which is the soul of life,
Tis like the damned, it nere lifts the head
Teſ.Neece, thou haſt won mee;
And Nephew, ſhe’s too good for you. I charge you
Give her her will: Ile have her home again elſe.
Qui.I know not what I can deny her now.
Mil.I aſk but this, that you will give me leave
To keep a vow I made, which was laſt night
I’le lay the price of twenty Maidenheads
Now, as the market goes, you get not hers
Mil.My vow is for a moneth; and for ſo long
I crave your faithful promiſe not to attempt me.
In the meantime becauſe I will be quit
With my trim, forward Gentlemen, and ſecure you
From their aſſaults; let it be given out,
That you have ſent me down into the countrey
Or back unto my Uncles; whither you pleaſe.
Quic.Or, tarry, tarry – – – – ſtay, ſtay here a while.
Mil.So I intend, Sir, Ile not leave your houſe,
But be lock’d up in ſome convenient room
Not to be ſeen by any, but your ſelfe:
[B8v]Or
Or the Mock-Marriage.
Or elſe to have the liberty of your houſe
In ſome diſguiſe, (if it were poſſible)
Free from the leaſt ſuſpition of your ſervants.
Do we not live in a well govern’d City?
And have not I authority? Ile take
The care and guard of you and of your houſe
’Gainſt all outragious attempts; and clap
Thoſe Goatiſh Roarers up, faſt as they come.
Quic.I underſtand her drift, Sir, and applaud
Her quaint deviſe. Twill put ’em to more trouble,
And more expence in doubtful ſearch of her,
The beſt way to undo’em is to foil’em
At their own weapons. Tis not to be thought
The’l ſeek, by violence to force her from me,
But wit; In which wee’l overcome’em.
Teſ.Agree on’t twixt your ſelves. I ſee y’are friends.
I’le leave you to your ſelves.
Heark hither Neece – – – Now I dare truſt you with him.
He is in yeares, tis true. But hear’ſt thou girl
Old Foxes are beſt blades.
Mil.I’m ſure they ſtink moſt.
(gain.
Teſ.Good keeping makes him bright and young a-
Teſ.A year or two perhaps.
Then, when he dies, his wealth makes thee a Counteſs.
Mil.You ſpeak much comfort, Sir.
And Nephew, Love her, I find ſhe deſerves it;
Be as benevolent to her as you can;
Shew your good will at leaſt. You do not know
How the good will of an old man may work
In a young wife. I muſt now take my journey
Down to my countrey houſe. At your moneths end
Ile viſit you again. No ceremony
Joy and content be with you.
Quic. Mil.And a good journey to you.
Exit Teſt.
C [1r]Quic.
The Engliſh-Moor.
Quic.You are content you ſay to be lock’d up
Or put in ſome diſguiſe, and have it ſaid
Y’are gone unto your Uncles. I have heard
Of ſome Bridegrooms, that ſhortly after Marriage
Have gone to ſee their Uncles, ſeldom Brides.
I have thought of another courſe.
Quic.What if it were given out y’are run away
Out of a deteſtation of your match?
Mil.’Twould pull a blot upon my reputation.
Quic.When they conſider my unworthineſs
’Twill give it credit. They’l commend you for it.
Mil.You ſpeak well for your ſelf.
Quic.I ſpeak as they’l ſpeak.
Mil.Well; let it be ſo then: I am content.
Quic.Wee’l put this inſtantly in act. The reſt,
As for diſguiſe, or privacy in my houſe,
Mil.All, Sir, to your diſpoſe,
Provided ſtill you urge not to infringe
My vow concerning my virginity.
Quic.Tis the leaſt thing I think on,
I will not offer at it till your time.
Mil.Why here’s a happineſs in a huſband now.
exeunt.
ACT 2. SCENE 3.
Dionyſia. Rafe.
Dio.Thou tell’ſt me things, that truth never came near.
Ra.Tis perfect truth: you may believe it, Lady.
Dio.Maintain’t but in one sillable more, Ile tear
Thy miſchievious tongue out.
Ra.Fit reward for Tell-troths.
But that’s not the reward you promis’d me
[C1v]For
or the Mock-Marriage.
For watching of your brothers actions;
You ſaid forſooth (if’t pleaſe you to remember)
That you would love me for it.
I bad thee bring account of what he did
Againſt his enemy; and thou reportſt.
He took his enemies danger on himſelf,
And help’t to reſcue him whoſe bloody father
Kild ours. Can truth or common reaſon claim
A part in this report? My Brother doe’t!
Or draw a ſword to help
Theophilus.
Ra.Tis not for any ſpight I ow my Maſter,
But for my itch at her that I do this.
I am ſtrangely taken. Such brave ſpirited women
Have cheriſh’d ſtrong back’d ſervingmen ere now.
Dio.Why doſt not get thee from my ſight, falſe fellow?
Ra.Ile be believed firſt. Therefore pray have patience
To peruſe that.
gives her a paper.
Dio.My brothers charecter!
Theophilus ſiſters name – – – – The brighter
Lucy
So often written? nothing but her name – – – –
But change of attributes – – – one ſerves not twice.
Bleſſed, divine, Illuſtrious, all perfection;
And (ſo heaven bleſs me) powerful in one place.
The worſt thing I read yet, heap of all vertues – – –
Bright ſhining, and all theſe aſcrib’d to
Lucy.
O! I could curſe thee now for being ſo juſt
Would thou had’ſt belied him ſtill.
Dio.O miſchief of affection! Monſtrous! horrid.
It ſhall not paſs ſo quietly. Nay ſtay.
Ra.Shee’l cut my throat I fear.
Dio.Thou art a faithful ſervant.
To you I am ſweet Lady, and to my maſter
In true conſtruction: he is his friend I think
C 2[r]That
The Engliſh-Moor,
That finds his follies out to have them cur’d,
Which you have onely the true ſpirit to do.
Dio.How I do love thee now!
Ra.And your love Miſtreſs,
(Brave ſprightly Miſtreſs) is the ſteeple top
Or rather Weathercock o’top of that
To which aſpires my lifes ambition.
Dio.How didſt thou get this paper.
Of his rare twelve-moneths melancholy works,
That lie in’s ſtudy. Miſtreſs tis apparent
His melancholy all this while has been
More for her Love, then for his fathers death.
Dio.Thou haſt my love for ever.
In earneſt of it. Miſtreſs, would be felt.
He offers to
Dio.Take that in earneſt then.
kiſs her, ſhe
Ra.It is a ſure one.
ſtrikes him.
And the moſt feeling pledge ſhe could have given:
For ſhe is a virago. And I have read
That your viragoes uſe to ſtrike all thoſe
They mean to lie with: And from thence tis taken
That your brave active women are call’d ſtrikers.
Ra.The warm touch of my fleſh
Already works in her. I ſhall be ſet
To better work immediately. I am prevented.
Dio.Away and be not ſeen. Be ſure I love thee.
Enter Arthur.
Ra.A ha! This clinches. Another time I’m ſure on’t.
Exit.
Ar.Siſter! where are you? How now! not well or
(She ſits.
Dio.Sick brother – – ſick at heart, oh – – –
(ſleepy.
Ar.Paſſion of heart
! where are our ſervants now
To run for doctors? ho – – – –
Dio.Pray ſtay and hear me.
Her’s no work for them. They’l find a maſter here
Too powerful for the ſtrength of all their knowledge.
[C2v]Ar.
or the Mock-Marriage.
Dio.Yes, brother, at my heart.
Too ſcornful to be diſpoſſeſt by them.
Ar.What may that proud grief be? good ſiſter name it.
Dio.It grieves me more to name it, then to ſuffer’t.
Since I have endur’d the worſt on’t, and prov’d conſtant
To ſufferance and ſilence, twere a weakneſs
Now to betray a ſorrow, by a name,
More fit to be ſeverely felt then known.
Then ſo afflict your underſtanding, Sir.
Ar.lt ſhall not afflict me.
Dio.I know you’l chide me for’t.
Ar.Indeed you wrong me now. Can I chide you?
Dio.If you be true and honeſt you muſt do’t,
Ar.You tax me nearly there.
Dio.And that’s the phyſick muſt help me or nothing.
Ar.With grief I go about to cure a grief then.
Now ſpeak it boldly, Siſter.
Dio.Noble Phyſitian – – – It is – – –
Ar.It is! what is it? If you love me, ſpeak.
Dio.Tis – – love and I beſeech thee ſpare me not.
Ar.Alas dear ſiſter, canſt thou think that love
Deſerves a chiding in a gentle breaſt?
Dio.Do you pitty me already. O faint man
That trembleſt but at opening of a wound!
What hope is there of thee to ſearch and dreſs it?
But I am in thy hands, and forc’d to try thee.
I love – – –
Theophilus – – –
His ſon that ſlew our father. Ther’s a love!
O more then time ’twere look’d, for fear it feſters.
Ar.She has put me to’t indeed. What muſt I do?
C 3[r]She
The Engliſh-Moor.
She has a violent ſpirit; ſo has he;
And though I wiſh moſt ſeriouſly the match,
Whereby to work mine own with his fair Siſter,
The danger yet, in the negotiation
May quite deſtroy my courſe; ſpoyle all my hopes.
Ile therefore put her off on’t if I can.
Dio.Can you be tender now?
I love you not ſo ſlightly. Pardon me.
A rough hand muſt be us’d: For here’s a wound
Muſt not be gently touch’d; you periſh then,
Under a Brothers pitty. Pray ſit quiet;
Dio.I’le ſtrive to do it.
Ar.To love the Son of him that ſlew your Father!
To ſay it ſhews unlovingneſs of nature;
Forgetfulneſs in blood, were all but ſhallow
To the great depth of danger your fault ſtands in.
It rather juſifies the act it ſelf,
And commends that down to poſterity
By your blood-cheriſhing embraces. Children,
Born of your body, will, inſtead of tears,
By your example, offer a thankful joy
To the ſad memory of their Granfiers ſlaughter.
Quite contrary! How fearful ’tis to think on’t
!
What may the world ſay too? There goes a daughter,
Whoſe ſtrange deſire leap’d from her Fathers ruine;
Death gave her to the Bride-groom; and the marriage
Knit faſt and cemented with blood. O Siſter – – – – –
Ar.How! Well? And ſo quickly cur’d?
Dio.Diſſembler; foul diſſembler.
Dio.Th’haſt play’d with fire; and like a cunning fel-
Bit in thy pain o’purpoſe to deceive
(low
Anothers tender touch. I know thy heart weeps
[C3v]For
or the Mock-Mariage.
For what’t has ſpoke againſt. Thou that darſt love
The daughter of that Feind that ſlew thy Father,
And plead againſt thy cauſe! unfeeling man,
Can not thy own words melt thee? To that end
I wrought and rais’d’em: ’Twas to win thy health,
That I was ſick; I play’d thy diſeaſe to thee,
That thou mightſt ſee the loath’d complection on’t,
Far truer in another then ones ſelf.
And, if thou canſt, after all this, tread wickedly,
Thou art a Rebel to all natural love,
And filial duty; dead to all juſt councel:
And every word thou mock’dſt with vehemence
Will riſe a wounded father in thy conſcience,
To ſcourge thy Judgement. There’s thy Saint croſt out,
And all thy memory with her. I’le nere truſt
She tears &
Revenge again with thee (ſo falſe is man-
throws the
But take it now into mine own power fully,
And ſee what I can do with my life’s hazard;
Your purpoſe ſhall nere thrive. There I’le make ſure
Ar.How wiſe and cunning is a womans malice;
I never was ſo cozened.
Exit.
