Pet. Ha, ha, ha. Mont. Still it is my misery Thus to be mock'd in all things. Pet. Pretty, faith. Mont. I look'd thus to be laugh'd at; my estate And fortunes, I confess, deserve no less; That made me so unwilling to denounce Mine own derisions: but, alas! I find No nation, sex, complexion, birth, degree, But jest at want, and mock at misery. Pet. Love me? Mont. I do, I do; and maugre Fate, And spite of all sinister evil, shall. And now I charge you, by that filial zeal You owe your father, by the memory Of your dear mother, by the joys you hope In blessed marriage, by the fortunate issue Stored in your womb, by these and all things else That you can style with goodness; instantly, Without evasion, trick, or circumstance, Nay, least premeditation, answer me, Affect you me, or no? Pet. How speak you that? Mont. Without demur or pause. Pet. Give me but time To sleep upon't. Mont. I pardon you no minute; not so much, Pet. You have vanquish'd me, At mine own weapon: noble sir, I love you: And what my heart durst never tell my tongue, Lest it should blab my thoughts, at last I speak, Mont. O, my happiness! What wilt thou feel me still? art thou not weary Of making me thy May-game, to possess me Of such a treasure's mighty magazine, Not suffer me to enjoy it; ta'en with this hand, Pet. You are sad, Sir; Be so no more: if you have been dejected, It lies in me to mount you to that height And it shall out at once. Pet. Sir, you seem passionate; As if my answer pleas'd not. For mine own tongue must kill me: noble Lady You have endear'd me to Was, ne'er to match with but any, of what state Or birth soever, till before the contract Some one thing I impose her. Pet. She to do it? Mont. Or, if she fail me in my first demand, I to abjure her ever. Pet. I am she, That beg to be imploy'd so: name a danger, And turn'd them into marble: these and more, Mont. And swear to this? Pet. I vow it by my honour, my best hopes, And all that I wish gracious: name it then, To show my love's expression. Mont. You shall then Pet. I'll do it, as I am a Virgin : Lie it within mortality, I'll do it. Mont. You shall Pet. I will: that which appears in you So terrible to speak, I'll joy to act; And take pride in performance. Mont. Then you shall Pet. What, soldier, what? Mont. love noble Valladaura And at his soonest appointment marry him.1 Pet. Then I am lost. [Nine lines omitted.] [Kisses him. [Act iv., Sc. 1.2] 2[Heywood's Dram. Works, 1874, vol. v.] Miracle of Beauty. I remember,1 There lived a Spanish Princess of our name, I rather think she was Latona's brood, To use the like combustion upon me.2 [Act ii., Sc. 1.] THE ROYAL KING AND THE LOYAL SUBJECT [PUBLISHED 1637: PERFORMED MUCH EARLIER]. BY THOMAS HEYWOOD Noble Traitor. A Persian history I read of late, how the great Sophy once In comes by chance an Eagle sousing by: Which when the Hawk espies, leaves her first game, Long tugg'd they in the air, till at the length 1A proud Spanish princess relates this. 2[A further extract on page 529.] And after with a sword struck off her head, As one no better than a noble Traitor [Act v., Sc. 5.1] A TRAGEDY A WOMAN KILL'D WITH KINDNESS: [PUBLISHED 1607: PRODUCED 1603]2 BY THOMAS HEYWOOD Mr. Frankford discovers that his Wife has been unfaithful to him. Mrs. Fra. O, by what words, what title, or what name Shall I entreat your pardon? Pardon! O! I am as far from hoping such sweet grace, As Lucifer from heaven. To call you husband! (0 me most wretched!) I have lost that name : I am no more your wife. Fran. Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee; And keep thy countenance, for I'll blush for thee. Now, I protest, I think, 'tis I am tainted, For I am most ashamed; and 'tis more hard For me to look upon thy guilty face, Than on the sun's clear brow: what wouldst thou speak? When do you spurn me like a dog? when tread me Under feet? when drag me by the hair? Tho' I deserve a thousand thousand fold More than you can inflict: yet, once my husband, I am not worthy that I should prevail Nor look on you, nor to be in your presence : Yet as an abject this one suit I crave; This granted, I am ready for my grave. Fran. My God, with patience arm me! rise, nay, rise, And I'll debate with thee. Was it for want Thou play'dst the strumpet? Wast thou not supply'd [Edited Collier, Shakespeare Soc., 1850. Further extracts on pp. 529, 573.] [Not divided into Acts, ed. 1874, PP. 139-142, 147-151, 154-156.] With every pleasure, fashion, and new toy; Nay, even beyond my calling? Mrs. Fra. I was. Fran. Was it then disability in me? Or in thine eye seem'd he a properer man? Fran. Did not I lodge thee in my bosom ? Mrs. Fra. You did. Fran. I did indeed, witness my tears I did. Mrs. Fra. In this one life I die ten thousand deaths. And thou shalt hear thy sentence presently.1 [Exit. He returns with CRANWEL his friend. She falls on her knees. Fran. My words are register'd in heaven already. With patience hear me. I'll not martyr thee, Nor mark thee for a strumpet; but with usage Of more humility torment thy soul, And kill thee even with kindness. Cran. Mr. Frankford. Fran. Good mr. Cranwel.-Woman, hear thy judgment; Take with thee all thy gowns, all thy apparel: may Chuse thee a bed and hangings for thy chamber; [Twenty lines omitted.] |