THE BROKEN HEART.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Room in CROTOLON'S House.

Enter CROTOLON and ORGILUS.

Crot. DALLY not further; I will know the reason That speeds thee to this journey,

Org. "Reason?" good sir,

I can yield many.

Crot. Give me one, a good one;

Such I expect, and ere we part must have:
"Athens!" pray, why to Athens? you intend not
To kick against the world, turn cynic, stoic,
Or read the logic lecture, or become

An Areopagite, and judge in cases

Touching the commonwealth; for, as I take it,
The budding of your chin cannot prognosticate
So grave an honour.

Org. All this I acknowledge.

Crot. You do! then, son, if books and love of knowledge

Inflame you to this travel, here in Sparta

You may as freely study.

Org. 'Tis not that, sir.

Crot. Not that, sir! As a father, I command thee To acquaint me with the truth.

Org. Thus, I obey you.

After so many quarrels, as dissension,

Fury, and rage had broach'd in blood, and some

times,

With death to such confederates, as sided

With now dead Thrasus and yourself, my lord;
Our present king, Amyclas, reconciled

Your eager swords, and seal'd a gentle peace: Friends you profess'd yourselves; which to confirm,

A resolution for a lasting league

Betwixt your families, was entertained,
By joining, in an Hymenean bond,
Me and the fair Penthea, only daughter
To Thrasus.

Crot. What of this?

Org. Much, much, dear sir.

A freedom of converse, an interchange
Of holy and chaste love, so fix'd our souls
In a firm growth of union, that no time
Can eat into the pledge:-we had enjoy'd
The sweets our vows expected, had not cruelty
Prevented all those triumphs we prepared for,
By Thrasus his untimely death.

Crot. Most certain.

Org. From this time sprouted up that poisonous stalk

Of aconite, whose ripened fruit hath ravish'd
All health, all comfort of a happy life:
For Ithocles, her brother, proud of youth,
And prouder in his power, nourish'd closely
The memory of former discontents,
To glory in revenge. By cunning partly,
Partly by threats, he woos at once, and forces
His virtuous sister to admit a marriage
With Bassanes, a nobleman, in honour
And riches, I confess, beyond my fortunes→→
Crot. All this is no sound reason to importune
My leave for thy departure.

Org. Now it follows.

Beauteous Penthea, wedded to this torture

By an insulting brother, being secretly
Compell'd to yield her virgin freedom up

To him who never can usurp her heart,
Before contracted mine, is now so yoked
To a most barbarous thraldom, misery,
Affliction, that he savours not humanity,
Whose sorrow melts not into more than pity,
In hearing but her name.

Crot. As how, pray?
Org. Bassanes,

The man that calls her wife, considers truly
What heaven of perfections he is lord of,
By thinking fair Penthea his; this thought
Begets a kind of monster-love, which love
Is nurse unto a fear so strong and servile,
As brands all dotage with a jealousy.
All eyes who gaze upon that shrine of beauty,
He doth resolve,' do homage to the miracle;
Some one, he is assur'd, may now or then
(If opportunity but sort) prevail:

So much, out of a self-unworthiness,

His fears transport him!-not that he finds cause
In her obedience, but his own distrust.
Crot. You spin out your discourse.
Org. My griefs are violent-

For knowing how the maid was heretofore
Courted by me, his jealousies grow wild

That I should steal again into her favours,

And undermine her virtues; which, the gods

Know, I nor dare, nor dream of: hence, from hence,

I undertake a voluntary exile;

First, by my absence to take off the cares

Of jealous Bassanes; but chiefly, sir,

To free Penthea from a hell on earth:
Lastly, to lose the memory of something,
Her presence makes to live in me afresh,

Crot. Enough, my Orgilus, enough. To Athens,

1 He doth resolve,] i. e. he doth satisfy, convince himself.-GIF

FORD.

I give a full consent;-alas, good lady!—
We shall hear from thee often?

Org. Often.

Crot. See,

Thy sister comes to give a farewell,

Euph. Brother!

Enter EUPHRANEA.

Org. Euphranea, thus upon thy cheeks I print A brother's kiss; more careful of thine honour, Thy health, and thy well-doing, than my life. Before we part, in presence of our father, I must prefer a suit t' you,

Euph. You may style it,

My brother, a command.

Org. That you will promise

Never to pass to any man, however

Worthy, your faith, till, with our father's leave,

I give a free consent.

Crot. An easy motion!

I'll promise for her, Orgilus.

Org. Your pardon;

Euphranea's oath must yield me satisfaction.
Euph. By Vesta's sacred fires, I swear.
Crot. And I,

By great Apollo's beams, join in the vow;
Not, without thy allowance, to bestow her
On any living,

Org. Dear Euphranea,

Mistake me not; far, far 't is from my thought,
As far from any wish of mine, to hinder

Preferment to an honourable bed,

Or fitting fortune; thou art young and handsome;
And 't were injustice,-more, a tyranny,
Not to advance thy merit: trust me, sister,
It shall be my first care to see thee match'd
As may become thy choice, and our contents,
I have your oath.

Euph. You have; but mean you, brother, To leave us, as you say?

Crot. Ay, ay, Euphranea.

He has just grounds to direct him; I will prove
A father and a brother to thee.

Euph. Heaven

Does look into the secrets of all hearts:

Gods! you have mercy with you, else—
Crot. Doubt nothing,

Thy brother will return in safety to us.

Org. Souls sunk in sorrows never are without them;

They change fresh airs, but bear their griefs about

them.

SCENE II.

[Exeunt.

A Room in the Palace.

Flourish. Enter AMYCLAS, ARMOSTES, PROPHILUS, Courtiers and Attendants,

Amyc. The Spartan gods are gracious; our hu mility

Shall bend before their altars, and perfume

Their temples with abundant sacrifice.

See, lords, Amyclas, your old king, is entering

Into his youth again! I shall shake off

This silver badge of age, and change this snow
For hairs as gay as are Apollo's locks;
Our heart leaps in new vigour.

Arm. May old time

Run back to double your long life, great sir!

Amyc. It will, it must, Armostes; thy bold ne

phew,

Death-braving Ithocles, brings to our gates
Triumphs and peace upon his conquering sword.
Laconia is a monarchy at length;

Hath in this latter war trod under foot