3 he and I am : if a bowl of blood

rawn from this arm of mine would poison thee, draught of his would cure thee.

Interest in Virtue.

Why, my lord, are you so moved at this?

When

any

falls from virtue, I am distract,

have an interest in't.

When I am gone, dream me some happiness;
Nor let thy looks our long hid love confess;

Nor praise, nor dispraise me, nor bless, nor curse,
Openly love's force; nor in bed fright thy nurse
With midnights' startings, crying out, oh, oh,
Nurse, O my love is slain, I saw him go
O'er the white Alps alone; I saw him, I,

Assail'd, fight, taken, stabb'd, bleed, fall, and die.
Augur me better chance, except dread Jove
Think it enough for me to have had thy love.

CUPID'S

CUPID'S REVENGE. A TRAGEDY. BY FRANCIS

BEAUMONT AND JOHN FLETCHER.

Leucippus, the King's Son, takes to mistress, Bacha, a Widow; but being questioned by his Father, to preserve her honour, swears that she is chaste. The old King admires her, and on the credit of that Oath, while his Son is absent, ʼmarries her. Leucippus, when he discovers the dreadful consequences of the deceit which he had used to his Father, counsels his friend Ismenus never to speak a falsehood in any case.

Leu. My sin, Ismenus, has wrought all this ill:
And I beseech thee to be warn'd by me,

And do not lie, if any man should ask thee
But how thou dost, or what a clock 'tis now.

Be sure thou do not lie, make no excuse
For him that is most near thee: never let
The most officious falsehood 'scape thy tongue;
For they above (that are entirely truth)

Will make that seed which thou hast sown of lies,

Yield miseries a thousand fold

Upon thine head, as they have done on mine.

Leucippus and his wicked Mother-in-law, Bacha, are left alone together for the first time after her marriage with the King, his Father.

Bach. He stands

As if he grew there, with his eyes on earth.
Sir, you and I when we were last together
Kept not this distance, as we were afraid
Of blasting by ourselves.

Leu.

Leu. Madam, 'tis true,

Heaven pardon it.

Bach. Amen, sir: you may think

That I have done you wrong in this strange marriage.

Leu. 'Tis past now.

Bach. But it was no fault of mine:

The world had call'd me mad, had I refus'd
The king: nor laid I any train to catch him,
It was your own oaths did it.

Leu. Tis a truth,

That takes my sleep away; but would to heaven,
If it had so been pleas'd, you had refus'd him,
Though I had gratified that courtesy

With having you myself: but since 'tis thus,
I do beseech you that you will be honest
From henceforth; and not abuse his credulous age,
Which you may easily do. As for myself,
What I can say, you know alas too well,
Is tied within me; here it will sit like lead,
But shall offend no other, it will pluck me
Back from my entrance into any mirth,
As if a servant came and whisper'd with me
Of some friend's death: but I will bear myself
To
you, with all the due obedience

A son owes to a mother; more than this

Is not in me, but I must leave the rest
To the just gods, who in their blessed time,

When they have given me punishment enough
For my rash sin, will mercifully find

As unexpected means to ease my grief
As they did now to bring it.

Bach. Grown so godly?

This must not be, and I will be to you
No other than a natural mother ought;
And for my honesty, so you will swear
Never to urge me, I shall keep it safe
From any other.

Leu. Bless me, I should urge you!
Bach. Nay, but swear then, that

may be at peace,

For

For I do feel a weakness in myself

That can deny you nothing; if you tempt me
I shall embrace sin as it were a friend,

And run to meet it.

Leu. If you knew how far

It were from me, you would not urge an oath.
But for your satisfaction, when I tempt you

Bach. Swear not. I cannot move him.

This sad talk Of things past help, does not become us well.

Shall I send one for my musicians, and we'll dance?

Leu. Dance, madam?

Bach. Yes, a Lavolta.

Leu. I cannot dance, madam.

Bach. Then let's be merry.

Leu. I am as my fortunes bid me.

Do not you see me sour?

Bach. Yes.

And why think you I smile?

Leu. I am so far from any joy myself,

I cannot fancy a cause of mirth.
Bach. I'll tell you. We are alone.
Leu. Alone!

Bach. Yes,

Leu. 'Tis true: what then?

Bach. What then?

You make my smiling now break into laughter:

What think you is to be done then?

To

Leu. We should pray to heaven for mercy.

Bach. Pray! that were a way indeed

pass the time.

Leu. I dare not think I understand you.

Bach. I must teach you then. Come kiss me.
Leu. Kiss you?

Bach. Yes, be not asham'd:

You did it not yourself, I will forgive you.

Leu. Keep, you displeased gods, the due respect

I ought to bear unto this wicked woman,

As she is now my mother: haste within me,
Lest I add sins to sins, till no repentance
Will cure me.

Bach

Bach. Leave these melancholy moods, That I may swear thee welcome on thy lips A thousand times.

Leu. Pray leave this wicked talk;

You do not know to what my father's wrong
May urge me.

Bach. I'm careless, and do weigh

The world, my life, and all my after hopes,
Nothing without thy love: mistake me not,
Thy love, as I have had it, free and open
As wedlock is within itself, what say you?
Leu. Nothing.

Bach. Pity me, behold a duchess

Kneels for thy mercy. What answer will you give?
Leu. They that can answer must be less amaz'd
Than I am now: you see my tears deliver

My meaning to you.

Bach. Shall I be contemn'd?

Thou art a beast, worse than a savage beast,

To let a lady kneel.

Leu. 'Tis your will, heaven: but let me bear me Like myself, however she does.

Bach. How fond was I

To beg thy love! I'll force thee to my will.
Dost thou not know that I can make the king
Doat as my list? yield quickly, or, by heaven,
I'll have thee kept in prison for my purpose.

Leu. All you have nam'd, but making of me sin
With you, you may command, but never that:
Say what you will, I'll hear you as becomes me;
If you speak, I will not follow your counsel,
Neither will I tell the world to your disgrace,
But give you the just honour

That is due from me to my father's wife.

Bach. Lord, how full of wise formality you're grown Of late but you were telling me,

You could have wish'd that I had married you;