by John Dryden
Jul. Permit it not, and Julia will thank you.
Gons. Who e’er could think, that one kind word from Julia
Should be preferred to Julia herself?
Could any man think it a greater good
To save a rival, than possess a mistress?
Yet this I do! these are thy riddles, love! —
What fortune gives me, I myself destroy;
And feed my virtue, but to starve my joy.
Honour sits on me like some heavy armour,
And with its stiff defence, encumbers me;
And yet, when I would put it off, it sticks
Like Hercules’s shirt; heats me at once;
And poisons me!
Man. I find myself grow calm by thy example;
My panting heart heaves less and less, each pulse;
And all the boiling spirits scatter from it.
Since thou desirest he should not die, he shall not,
‘Till I on nobler terms can take his life.
Rod. The next turn may be yours. — Remember, I owed this danger to your wilfulness: Once, you might easily have been mine, and would not. [Exit RODORICK.
Man. Lead out my sister, friend; her hurt’s so
small,
‘Twill scarce disturb the ceremony.
Ladies, once more your pardons.
[Leads out the Company. Exeunt.
Manent JULIA, GONSALVO, AMIDEO, and HIPPOLITO. GONSALVO offers his hand, JULIA pulls back hers.
Jul. This hand would rise in blisters, should’st
thou touch it! —
My Roderick’s displeased with me, and thou,
Unlucky man, the cause. Dare not so much
As once to follow me. [Exit JULIA.
Gons. Not follow her! Alas, she need not bid me! Oh, how could I presume to take that hand, To which mine proved so fatal! Nay, if I might, should I not fear to touch it? — murderer’s touch would make it bleed afresh!
Amid. I think, sir, I could kill her for your sake.
Gons. Repent that word, or I shall hate thee
Strangely:
Harsh words from her, like blows from angry kings,
Though they are meant affronts, are construed favours.
Hip. Her inclinations and aversions Are both alike unjust; and both, I hope, Too violent to last: Chear up yourself; for if I live, (I hope I shall not long) [Aside. She shall be yours.
Amid. ‘Twere much more noble in him,
To make a conquest of himself, than her.
She ne’er can merit him; and, hadst not thou
A mean low soul, thou wouldst not name her to him.
Hip. Poor child, who would’st be wise above thy years!
Why dost thou talk, like a philosopher,
Of conquering love, who art not yet grown up,
To try the force of any manly passion?
The sweetness of thy mother’s milk is yet
Within thy veins, not soured and turned by love.
Gons. Thou hast not field enough in thy young breast, To entertain such storms to struggle in.
Amid. Young as I am, I know the power of love;
Its less disquiets, and its greater cares,
And all that’s in it, but the happiness.
Trust a boy’s word, sir, if you please, and take
My innocence for wisdom; Leave this lady;
Cease to persuade yourself you are in love,
And you will soon be freed. Not that I wish
A thing, so noble as your passion, lost
To all the sex: Bestow it on some other;
You’ll find many as fair, though none so cruel. —
Would I could be a lady for your sake!
Hip. If I could be a woman, with a wish, You should not be without a rival long.
Amid. A cedar, of your stature, would not cause Much jealousy.
Hip. More than a shrub of yours.
Gons. How eagerly these boys fall out for nothing! — Tell me, Hippolito, wert thou a woman, Who would’st thou be?
Hip. I would be Julia, sir, Because you love her.
Amid. I would not be she, Because she loves not you. Hip. True, Amideo; And, therefore, I would wish myself a lady, Who, I am sure, does infinitely love him.
Amid. I hope that lady has a name?
Hip. She has:
And she is called Honoria, sister to
This Julia, and bred up at Barcelona;
Who loves him with a flame so pure and noble,
That, did she know his love to Julia,
She would beg Julia to make him happy.
Gons. This startles me!
Amid. Oh, sir, believe him not: They love not truly, who, on any terms, Can part with what they love.
Gons. I saw a lady
At Barcelona, of what name I know not,
Who, next to Julia, was the fairest creature
My eyes did e’er behold: But, how camest thou
To know her?
Hip. Sir, some other time I’ll tell you.
Amid. It could not be Honoria, whom you saw;
For, sir, she has a face so very ugly,
That, if she were a saint for holiness,
Yet no man would seek virtue there.
Hip. This is the lyingest boy, sir; — I am sure
He never saw Honoria; for her face,
’Tis not so bad to frighten any man —
None of the wits have libelled it.
Amid. Don Roderick’s sister, Angelina, does
So far exceed her, in the ornaments
Of wit and beauty, though now hid from sight,
That, like the sun, (even when eclipsed) she casts
A yellowness upon all other faces.
Hip. I’ll not say much of her, but only this,
Don Manuel saw not with my eyes, if e’er
He loved that Flanders shape; that lump of earth,
And phlegm together.
Amid. You have often seen her,
It seems, by your description of her person:
But I’ll maintain on any Spanish ground,
Whate’er she be, yet she is far more worthy
To have my lord her servant, than Honoria.
Hip. And I’ll maintain Honoria’s right against her, In any part of all the world.
Gons. You go Too far, to quarrel on so slight a ground.
Hip. O pardon me, my lord, it is not slight: I must confess, I am so much concerned, I shall not bear it long.
Amid. Nor I, assure you.
Gons. I will believe what both of you have said, That Honoria, and Angelina, Both equally are fair.
Amid. Why did you name Honoria first?
Gons. And, since you take their parts so eagerly
Henceforth I’ll call you by those ladies’ names:
You, my Hippolito, shall be Honoria;
And you, my Amideo, Angelina.
Amid. Then all my services, I wish, may make You kind to Angelina, for my sake.
Hip. Put all my merits on Honoria’s score, And think no maid could ever love you more.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
MANUEL solus.
Man. Thus I provide for others’ happiness,
And lose my own. ’Tis true, I cannot blame
Thy hatred, Angelina, but thy silence.
Thy brother’s hatred made thine just; but yet
’Twas cruel in thee not to tell me so.
Conquest is noble, when an heart stands out;
But mine, which yielded, how could’st thou betray?
That heart, of which thou could’st not be deprived
By any force or power, beside thy own;
Like empires, to that fatal height arrived,
They must be ruined by themselves alone.
My guarded freedom cannot be a prize
To any scornful face a second time;
For thy idea, like a ghost, would rise,
And fright my thoughts from such another
crime.
Enter a Servant, with a letter.
Man. From whom?
Serv. Sir, the contents will soon resolve you.
[He read.
Man. Tell Roderick, he has prevented me
In my design of sending to him first.
I’ll meet him, single, at the time and place;
But, for my friend, tell him, he must excuse me:
I’ll hazard no man in my quarrel, but
Myself alone. — [Exit Servant.
Who’s within there?
Enter a Servant.
Go, call my sister, and Gonsalvo, hither.
[Exit Servant.
’Twas pushed so far, that, like two armies, we
Were drawn so closely up, we could not part
Without engagement. — But they must not know it.
Enter JULIA, GONSALVO, and AMIDEO.
I have some business calls me hence, and know not
When I shall return: But, ere I go,
That power I have, by my dead father’s will,
Over my sister, I bequeath to you: [To GONS.
She, and her fortunes, both be firmly yours;
And this when I revoke, let cowardice
Blast all my youth, and treason taint my age.
Gons. Sir —
Man. Nay, good, no thanks; I cannot stay — [Exit MANUEL.
Gons. There’s something more than ordinary in this; Go, Amideo, quickly follow him, And bring me word which way he takes.
Amid. I go, sir. [Exit AMID. JULIA kneels.
Gons. Madam, when you implore the powers divine, You have no prayers in which I will not join, Though made against myself. [Kneels with her.
Jul. In vain I sue, Unless my vows may be conveyed by you.
Gons. Conveyed by me! My ill success in love
Shews me, too sure, I have few friends above.
How can you fear your just desires to want?
When the gods pray, they both request and grant.
Jul. Heaven has resigned my fortune to your hand, If you, like heaven, the afflicted understand.
Gons. The language of the afflicted is not new; Too well I learned it, when I first saw you.
Jul. In spite of me, you now command my fate;
And yet the vanquished seeks the victor’s hate;
Even in this low submission, I declare,
That, had I power, I would renew the war.
I’m forced to stoop, and ‘twere too great a blow
To bend my pride, and to deny me too.
Gons. You have my heart; dispose it to your will;
If not, you know the way to use it ill.
Jul. Cruel to me, though kind to your desert,
My brother gives my person, not my heart;
And I have left no other means to sue,
But to you only, to be freed from you.
Gons. From such a suit how can you hope success, Which, given, destroys the giver’s happiness?
Jul. You think it equal you should not resign
That power you have, yet will not leave me mine;
Yet on my will I have the power alone,
And, since you cannot move it, move your own.
Your worth and virtue my esteem may win,
But women’s passions from themselves begin;
Merit may be, but force still is, in vain.
Gons. I would but love you, not your love constrain; And though your brother left me to command, He placed his thunder in a gentle hand.
Jul. Your favour from constraint has set me free,
But that secures not my felicity;
Slaves, who, before, did cruel masters serve,
May fly to deserts, and in freedom starve.
The noblest part of liberty they lose,
Who can but shun, and want the power to chuse.
Gons. O whither would your fatal reasons move! You court my kindness, to destroy my love.
Jul. You have the power to make my happiness, By giving that, which you can ne’er possess.
Gons. Give you to Roderick? there wanted yet That curse, to make my miseries complete.
Jul. Departing misers bear a nobler mind;
They, when they can enjoy no more, are kind;
You, when your love is dying in despair,
Yet want the charity to make an heir.
Gons. Though hope be dying, yet it is not dead; And dying people with small food are fed.
Jul. The greatest kindness dying friends can have, Is to dispatch them, when we cannot save.
Gons. Those dying people, could they speak’ at all,
That pity of their friends would murder call:
For men with horror dissolution meet;
The minutes even of painful life are sweet.
Jul. But I’m by powerful inclination led; And streams turn seldom to their fountain head.
Gons. No; ’tis a tide which carries you away; And tides may turn, though they can never stay.
Jul. Can you pretend to love, and see my grief Caused by yourself, yet give me no relief?
Gons. Where’s my reward?
Jul. The honour of the flame.
Gons. I lose the substance, then, to gain the name.
Jul. I do too much mistress’ power betray;
Must slaves be won by courtship to obey?
Thy disobedience does to treason rise,
Which thou, like rebels, would’st with love disguise.
I’ll kill myself, and, if thou can’st deny
To see me happy, thou shalt see me die.
Gons. O stay! I can with less regret bequeath My love to Roderick, than you to death: And yet —
Jul. What new objection can you find?
Gons. But are you sure you never shall be kind?
Jul. Never.
Gons. What! never?
Jul. Never to remove.
Gons. Oh fatal never to souls damned in love!
Jul. Lead me to Roderick.
Gons. If it must be so —
Jul. Here, take my hand, swear on it thou wilt go.
Gons. Oh balmy sweetness! but ’tis lost to me,
[He kisses her hand.
Like food upon a wretch condemned to die:
Another, and I vow to go: — Once more;
If I swear often, I shall be foreswore.
Others against their wills may haste their fate;
I only toil to be unfortunate:
More my own foe than all my stars could prove;
They give her person, but I give her love.
I must not trust myself — Hippolito!
Enter HIPPOLITO.
Hip. My lord!
Gons. Quickly go find Don Roderick out:
Tell him, the lady Julia will be walking
On the broad rock, that lies beside the port,
And there expects to see him instantly.
In the mean time I’ll call for Amideo.
Jul. You’ll keep your promise to Don Roderick?
Gons. Madam, since you bring death, I welcome it; But to his fortune, not his love, submit. [Exit GONSALVO.
Hip. I dare not ask what I too fain would hear: But, like a tender mother, hope and fear, My equal twins, my equal care I make, And keep hope quiet, lest that fear should wake. [Aside. Exit HIPPOLITO.
Jul. So, now I’m firmly at my own dispose; And all the lets, my virtue caused, removed: Now, Roderick, I come —
Enter GONSALVO again.
Gons. Madam, my boy’s not yet returned.
Jul. No matter, we’ll not stay for him.
Gon. Pray make not too much haste.
[Exeunt JUL. and GONS.
SCENE II.
Enter DON RODORICK, and a Servant.
Rod. Have you bespoke a vessel, as I bid you?
Serv. I have done better; for I have employed
Some, whom I know, this day to seize a ship;
Which they have done, clapping the men within her
All under hatches, with such speed and silence,
<
br /> That, though she rides at anchor in the port
Among the rest, the change is not discovered.
Rod. Let my best goods and jewels be embarked With secrecy: We’ll put to sea this night. Have you yet found my sister, or her woman?
Serv. Neither, sir; but in all probability She is with Manuel.
Rod. Would God the meanest man in Alicant
Had Angelina, rather than Don Manuel!
I never can forgive, much less forget,
How he (the younger soldier) was preferred
To that command of horse, which was my due.
Serv. And, after that, by force disseized you of Your quarters —
Rod. Should I meet him seven years hence
At the altar, I would kill him there: — I had
Forgot to tell you, the design we had,
To carry Julia by force away,
Will now be needless: she’ll come to the rock
To see me; you, unseen, shall stand behind,
And carry her into the vessel.
Serv. Shall I not help you to dispatch Don Manuel?
Rod. I neither doubt my valour nor my fortune:
But if I die, revenge me: Presently
About your business; I must to the rock,
For fear I come too late. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE III. — Through a rock is discovered a navy of ships riding at a distance.
Enter AMIDEO.
Amid. Thus far, unseen by Manuel, I have traced him; He can be gone no farther than the walk Behind the rock: I’ll back, and tell my master.
Enter HIPPOLITO at the other end.
Hip. This is the place, where Roderick must expect His Julia: — How! Amideo here!
Amid. Hippolito!
Hip. This were so fit a time
For my revenge, had I the courage, now!
My heart swells at him, and my breath grows short;
But whether fear or anger choaks it up,
I cannot tell.
Amid. He looks so ghastfully,
Would I were past him; yet I fear to try it,
Because my mind misgives me he will stop me.
By your leave, Hippolito.
Hip. Whither so fast?
Amid. You’ll not presume to hinder my lord’s business? He shall know it.
Hip. I’ll make you sure, before,
For telling any tales: Do you remember,
Since you defended Angelina’s beauty
Against Honoria’s; nay, and would maintain it.
Amid. And so I will do still; (I must feign courage, There is no other way.) [Aside.
Hip. I’ll so revenge That injury! (if my heart fails me not.)
Amid. Come, confess truly, for, I know, it fails you. What would you give to avoid fighting now?
Hip. No, ’tis your heart that fails.