Phi. You do mistake, clear soul; his precontract Doth annul yours, and you have given no faith That ties you in religion or humanity; You rather sin against that greater precept, To covet what's another's; sweet, you do ; Believe me, who dare not urge dishonest things: Remove that scruple therefore, and but take Your dangers now into your judgment's scale, And weigh them with your safeties: think but whither
what you can do to live; How near you have barr'd all ports to your own
Except this one that I here open, love. Should you be left alone, you were a prey To the wild lust of any who would look Upon this shape like a temptation,
And think you want the man you personate; Would not regard this shift, which love put on, As virtue forc'd, but covet it like vice; So should you live the slander of each sex, And be the child of error and of shame ; And, which is worse, even Mark-Antony Would be call'd just, to turn a wanderer off, And fame report you worthy his contempt; Where, if you make new choice, and settle here, There is no further tumult in this flood,
Each current keeps his course, and all suspicions Shall return honours. Came you forth a maid? Go home a wife alone? and in disguise? Go home a waited Leocadia ;
Go home, and, by the virtue of that charm, Transform all mischiefs, as you are transform'd; Turn your offended father's wrath to wonder, And all his loud grief to a silent welcome; Unfold the riddles you have made.-What say you? Now is the time; delay is but despair :
If you be chang'd, let a kiss tell me so. Leo. I am ; but how, I rather feel than know.
[This is one of the most pleasing if not the most shining scenes in Fletcher. All is sweet, natural, and unforced. It is a copy which we may suppose Massinger to have profited by the studying.].
SCUDMORE alone; having a letter in his hand from BELLAFRONT, assuring him of her faith.
Scud. If what I feel I could express in words, 1 Methinks I could speak joy enough to men To banish sadness from all love for ever. Oh, thou that reconcil'st the faults of all That frothy sex, and in thy single self.. Confin'st, nay, hast engross'd virtue enough To frame a spacious world of virtuous women, Hadst thou been the beginning of thy sex, I think the devil in the serpent's skin
Had wanted cunning to o'ercome thy goodness, And all had liv'd and died in innocency,
The white original creation.
Who's there? Come in.
Nevill. (entering.) What, up already, Scudmore? Scud. Good morrow, my dear Nevill.
Nev. What's this? a letter! sure it is not so— Scud. By heaven, you must excuse me. Come, I know You will not wrong my friendship, and your
Nev. Not for the world, my friend.
Nathaniel Field, from the painting in Dulwich Gallery.
Farewell, good morrow.
Scud. Nay, sir, neither must you
Depart in anger from this friendly hand. I swear I love you better than all men, Equally with all virtue in the world, Yet this would be a key to lead you to A prize of that importance- Nev. Worthy friend,
I leave you not in anger,- -what d' ye mean?- Nor am I of that inquisitive nature fram'd, To thirst to know your private businesses. Why, they concern not me; if they be ill And dangerous, 't would grieve me much to know them;
If good, they be so, though I know them not : Nor would I do your love so gross a wrong, To covet to participate affairs
Of that near touch, which your assured love Doth think not fit, or dares not trust me with.
Scud. How sweetly does your friendship play with mine,
And, with a simple subtlety, steals my heart Out of my bosom. By the holiest love That ever made a story, you are a man With all good so replete, that I durst trust you Even with this secret, were it singly mine. Nev. I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend. Scud. Nay, look you, this same fashion does not please me,
You were not wont to make your visitation
So short and careless.
Nev. 'Tis your jealousy
That makes you think it so, for, by my soul,
You have given me no distaste in keeping from me All things that might be burdensome, and oppress
In truth, I am invited to a wedding,
« PreviousContinue » |