John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Amid. I scorn the danger;

  Yet, what compassion on your youth might do,

  I cannot tell; and, therefore, do not work

  Upon my pity; for I feel already

  My stout heart melts.

  Hip. Oh! Are you thereabout? Now I am sure you fear; and you shall fight.

  Amid. I will not fight.

  Hip. Confess, then, Angelina Is not so fair as is Honoria.

  Amid. I do confess; now are you satisfied?

  Hip. There’s more behind; confess her not so worthy To be beloved, nor to possess Gonsalvo, As fair Honoria is.

  Amid. That’s somewhat hard.

  Hip. But you must do’t, or die.

  Amid. Well, life is sweet; She’s not so worthy: Now, let me be gone.

  Hip. No, never to my master; swear to quit His service, and no more to see his face.

  Amid. I fain would save my life, but that, which you Propose, is but another name to die. I cannot live without my master’s sight.

  Hip. Then you must fight with me for him.

  Amid. I would Do any thing with you, but fighting for him.

  Hip. Nothing but that will serve.

  Amid. Lay by our swords, And I’ll scratch with you for him.

  Hip. That’s not manly.

  Amid. Well, since it must be so, I’ll fight: — Unbutton.

  [HIPPOLITO unbuttons slowly.

  How many buttons has he? I’ll be one

  Behind him still. [Aside.

  [Unbuttons one by one after him. HIPPOLITO makes more haste.

  You are so prodigal! if you loved my master,

  You would not tear his doublet so: — How’s this!

  Two swelling breasts! a woman, and my rival!

  The stings of jealousy have given me courage,

  Which nature never gave me:

  Come on, thou vile dissembler of thy sex;

  Expect no mercy; either thou or I

  Must die upon this spot: Now for Gonsalvo —

  Sa — Sa —

  Hip. This courage is not counterfeit; ah me! What shall I do? for pity, gentle boy —

  Amid. No pity; such a cause as ours Can neither give nor take it: If thou yieldest, I will not spare thee; therefore, fight it out. [Tears open his doublet.

  Hip. Death to my hopes! a woman! and so rare

  A beauty, that my lord must needs doat on her.

  I should myself, if I had been a man:

  But, as I am, her eyes shoot death at me.

  Amid. Come, have you said your prayers?

  Hip. For thy confusion, —

  Thou ravenous harpy, with an angel’s face, —

  Thou art discovered, thou too charming rival;

  I’ll be revenged upon those fatal eyes.

  Amid. I’ll tear out thine.

  Hip. I’ll bite out hungry morsels From those plump cheeks, but I will make them thinner.

  Amid. I’d beat thee to the blackness of a Moor.

  But that the features of thy face are such,

  Such damnable, invincible good features,

  That as an Ethiop thou would’st still be loved.

  Hip. I’ll quite unbend that black bow o’er thine eyes; I’ll murder thee, and Julia shall have him, Rather than thou.

  Amid. I’ll kill both thee and her, Rather than any one but I shall have him.

  Hip. Come on, thou witch.

  Amid. Have at thy heart, thou Syren.

  [They draw and fight awkwardly, not coming near one another.

  Amid. I think I paid you there.

  Hip. O stay a little, And tell me in what corner of thy heart Gonsalvo lies, that I may spare that place.

  Amid. He lies in the last drop of all my blood, And never will come out, but with my soul.

  Hip. Come, come, we dally; Would one of us were dead, no matter which! [They fight nearer.

  Enter Don MANUEL.

  Man. The pretty boys, that serve Gonsalvo, fighting! I come in time to save the life of one.

  [HIPPOLITO gets AMIDEO down in closing:

  MANUEL takes away their swords.

  Hip. For goodness’ sake, hinder not my revenge.

  Amid. The noble Manuel has saved my life: Heavens, how unjustly have I hated him. [Aside.

  Man. What is it, gentle youths, that moves you thus?

  I cannot tell what causes you may find;

  But, trust me, all the world, in so much sweetness,

  Would be to seek where to begin a quarrel:

  You seem the little Cupids in the song,

  Contending for the honey-bag.

  Hip. ’Tis well You’re come; you may prevent a greater mischief: Here ’tis Gonsalvo has appointed Roderick —

  Man.To fight?

  Hip. What’s worse: to give your sister to him.

  Won by her tears, he means to leave her free,

  And to redeem her misery with his:

  At least so I conjecture.

  Man. ’Tis a doubtful Problem; either he loves her violently, Or not at all.

  Amid. You have betrayed my master: —

  [To HIPPOLITO. Aside.

  Hip. If I have injured you, I mean to give you The satisfaction of a gentlewoman.

  Enter GONSALVO and JULIA.

  Man. Oh, they are here; now I shall be resolved.

  Jul. My brother Manuel! what fortune’s this!

  Man. I’m glad I have prevented you.

  Gons. With what

  Variety my fate torments me still!

  Never was man so dragged along by virtue;

  But I must follow her.

  Jul. Noble Gonsalvo, Protect me from my brother.

  Gons. Tell me, sir, When you bestowed your sister on me, did not You give her freely up to my dispose?

  Man. ’Tis true, I did; but never with intent You should restore her to my enemy.

  Gons. ’Tis past; ’tis done: She undermined my soul With tears; as banks are sapped away by streams.

  Man. I wonder what strange blessing she expects From the harsh nature of this Rodorick; A man made up of malice and revenge.

  Jul. If I possess him, I may be unhappy;

  But if I lose him, I am surely so.

  Had you a friend so desperately sick,

  That all physicians had forsook his cure;

  All scorched without, and all parched up within,

  The moisture that maintained consuming nature

  Licked up, and in a fever fried away;

  Could you behold him beg, with dying eyes,

  A glass of water, and refuse it him,

  Because you knew it ill for his disease?

  When he would die without it, how could you

  Deny to make his death more easy to him?

  Man. Talk not to me of love, when honour suffers. The boys will hiss at me.

  Gons. I suffer most:

  Had there been ‘choice, what would I not have chose?

  To save my honour I my love must lose:

  But promises, once made, are past debate,

  And truth’s of more necessity than fate.

  Man. I scarce can think your promise absolute; There might some way be thought on, if you would, To keep both her and it.

  Gons. No, no; my promise was no trick of state: I meant to be made truly wretched first, And then to die; and I’ll perform them both.

  Man. Then that revenge, I meant on Rodorick, I’ll take on you. [Draws.

  Gons. — I draw with such regret, As merchants throw their wealth into the sea, To save their sinking vessels from a wreck.

  Man. I find I cannot lift my hand against thee: Do what thou wilt; but let not me behold it. [Goes off a little way. I’ll cut this gordian knot I cannot loose: To keep his promise, Rodorick shall have her, But I’ll return and rescue her by force; Then giving back what he so frankly gave, At once my honour and his love I’ll save. [Exit MANUEL.

  Enter RODORICK.

  Rod. How! Julia brought by him? — Who sent for me?

  Gons. ’Twas I.

/>   Rod. I know your business then; ’tis fighting.

  Gons. You’re mistaken; ’tis something that I fear.

  Rod. What is’t?

  Gons. Why,— ‘twill not out: Here, take her;

  And deserve her: but no thanks;

  For fear I should consider what I give,

  And call it back. —

  Jul. O my dear Rodorick!

  Gons. O cruel Julia!

  For pity shew not all your joy before me;

  Stifle some part of it one minute longer,

  ‘Till I am dead.

  Jul. My Rodorick shall know, He owes his Julia to you; thank him, love; In faith I take it ill you are so slow.

  Rod. You know he has forbid me; and, beside, He’ll take it better from your mouth than mine; All that you do must needs be pleasing to him.

  Jul. Still sullen and unkind!

  Rod. Why, then, in short, I do not understand the benefit.

  Gons. Not to have Julia in thy free possession?

  Rod. Not brought by you; not of another’s leaving.

  Jul. Speak softly, Rodorick: Let not these hear thee; But spare my shame for the ill choice I made, In loving thee.

  Rod. I will speak loud, and tell thee,

  Thou com’st, all cloyed and tired with his embraces,

  To proffer thy palled love to me; his kisses

  Do yet bedew thy lips; the very print,

  His arms made round thy body, yet remains.

  Gons. O barbarous jealousy!

  Jul. ’Tis an harsh word: I am too pure for thee; but yet I love thee.

  [Offers to take his hand.

  Rod. Away, foul impudence.

  Gons. Madam, you wrong Your virtue, thus to clear it by submission.

  Jul. Whence grows this boldness, sir? did I ask you To be my champion?

  Rod. He chose to be your friend, and not your husband: Left that dull part of dignity to me; As often the worst actors play the kings.

  Jul. This jealousy is but excess of passion, Which grows up, wild, in every lover’s breast; But changes kind when planted in an husband.

  Rod. Well, what I am, I am; and what I will be, When you are mine, my pleasure shall determine. I will receive no law from any man.

  Jul. This strange unkindness of my Rodorick

  I owe to thee, and thy unlucky love;

  Henceforth go lock it up within thy breast;

  ’Tis only harmless while it is concealed,

  But, opened, spreads infection like a vault.

  Go, and my curse go with thee! —

  Gons. I cannot go ‘till I behold you happy: —

  — Here, Rodorick, receive her on thy knees;

  Use her with that respect, which thou would’st pay

  Thy guardian angel, if he could be seen.

  — Do not provoke my anger by refusing. —

  I’ll watch thy least offence to her; each word,

  Nay, every sullen look; —

  And, as the devils, who are damned to torments,

  Yet have the guilty souls their slaves to punish;

  So, under me, while I am wretched, thou

  Shalt be tormented. —

  Rod. Would’st thou make me the tenant of thy lust,

  To toil, and for my labour take the dregs,

  The juicy vintage being left for thee?

  No: she’s an infamous, lewd prostitute:

  I loath her at my soul.

  Gons. I can forbear No longer: swallow down thy lie, foul villain.

  [They fight off the stage. Exeunt.

  Jul. Help, help!

  Amid. Here is that witch, whose fatal beauty Began the mischief; she shall pay for all.

  [Goes to kill JULIA.

  Hip. I hate her for it more than thou canst do; But cannot see her die, my master loves.

  [Goes between with her sword.

  Enter GONSALVO, following RODORICK, who falls.

  Rod. So, now I am at rest: —

  I feel death rising higher still, and higher,

  Within my bosom; every breath I fetch

  Shuts up my life within a shorter compass,

  And, like the vanishing sound of bells, grows less

  And less each pulse, ‘till it be lost in air.

  [Swoons away.

  Gons. Down at your feet, much injured innocence, I lay that sword, which —

  Jul. Take it up again;

  It has not done its work ‘till I am killed:

  For ever, ever, thou hast robbed me of

  That man, that only man, whom I could love:

  Dost thou thus court thy mistress? thus oblige her?

  All thy obligements have been fatal yet,

  Yet the most fatal now would most oblige me.

  Kill me: — yet I am killed before in him.

  I lie there on the ground; cold, cold, and pale:

  That death, I die in Roderick, is far

  More pleasant than that life, I live in Julia. —

  — See how he stands — when he is bid dispatch me!

  How dull! how spiritless! that sloth possest

  Thee not, when thou didst kill my Roderick.

  Gons. I’m too unlucky to converse with men:

  I’ll pack together all my mischiefs up,

  Gather with care each little remnant of them,

  That none of them be left behind: Thus loaded,

  Fly to some desert, and there let them loose,

  Where they may never prey upon mankind.

  But you may make my journey shorter: — Take

  This sword; ‘twill shew you how: —

  Jul.I’ll gladly set you on your way: — [Takes his sword.

  Enter three of RODORICK’S servants.

  Serv. Make haste; he’s now unarmed, we may with ease Revenge my master’s death.

  Jul. Now these shall do it.

  Gons. I’ll die by none but you. —

  Hip. O here, take my sword, sir.

  Amid. He shall have mine.

  [Both give their swords to GONSALVO.

  Enter MANUEL.

  Man. Think not of death. We’ll live and conquer.

  [They beat them off.

  Man. These fellows, though beat off, will strait return With more; we must make haste to save ourselves.

  Hip. ’Tis far to the town, And, ere you reach it, you will be discovered.

  Gons. My life’s a burden to me, were not Julia’s Concerned; but, as it is, she, being present, Will be found accessary to his death.

  Man. See where a vessel lies, not far from shore;

  And near at hand a boat belonging to her;

  Let’s haste aboard, and what with prayers and gifts

  Buy our concealment there: — Come, Julia.

  Gons. Alas, she swoons away upon the body.

  Man. The night grows on apace; we’ll take her in Our arms, and bear her hence.

  [Exeunt GONSALVO, and the boys, with MANUEL, carrying JULIA.

  The Servants enter again.

  Serv. They are all gone, we may return with safety: Help me to bear the body to the town.

  Serv. He stirs, and breathes a little; there may be Some hope.

  Serv. The town’s far off, and the evening cold. Let’s carry him to the ship.

  Serv. Haste then away: Things, once resolved, are ruined by delay.

  [Exeunt.

  ACT V.

  SCENE I.

  The Scene lying in a Carrack.

  Enter a Pirate and the Captain.

  Pir. Welcome a ship-board, captain; you staid long.

  Capt. No longer than was necessary for shifting trades; to change me from a robber to a pirate.

  Pir. There’s a fair change wrought in you since yesterday morning; then you talked of nothing but repentance, and amendment of life.

  Capt. ‘Faith, I have considered better on’t: for, conversing a whole day together with honest men, I found them all so poor and beggarly, that a civil person would be ashamed to be seen with them: — but you come from Don Rod
erick’s cabin; what hopes have you of his life?

  Pir. No danger of it, only loss of blood had made him faint away; he called for you.

  Capt. Well, are his jewels and his plate brought in?

  Pir. They are. — When hoist we sails?

  Capt. At the first break of day: When we are got out clear, we’ll seize on Roderick and his men: They are not many, but fear may make them desperate.

  Pir. We may take them, when they are laid to sleep.

  Capt. ’Tis well advised.

  Pir. I forgot to tell you, sir, that a little before Don Roderick was brought in, a company of gentlemen (pursued it seems by justice) procured our boat to row them hither. Two of them carried a very fair lady betwixt them, who was either dead, or swooned.

  Capt. We’ll sell them altogether to the Turk, — at least I’ll tell them so. [Aside.

  Pir. Pray, sir, let us reserve the lady to our own uses; it were a shame to good catholicks to give her up to infidels.

  Capt. Don Roderick’s door opens; I’ll speak to him.

  The Scene draws, and discovers the Captains cabin; RODORICK on a bed, and two Servants by him.

  Capt. How is it with the brave Don Roderick? Do you want any thing?

  Rod. I have too much

  Of that I would not, love;

  And what I would have, that I want, revenge.

  I must be set ashore.

  Capt. That you may, sir; But our own safety must be thought on first.

  [One enters, and whispers the Captain.

  Capt. I come: — Seignior, think you are lord here, and command all freely.

  [Exeunt Captain and Pirates.

  Rod. He does well to bid me think so: I am of opinion We are fallen into huckster’s hands.

  Serv. Indeed he talked suspiciously enough; He half denied to land us.

  Rod. These, Pedro, are your confiding men —

  Serv. I think them still so.

  Rod. Would I were from them.

  Serv. ’Tis impossible To attempt it now; you have not strength enough To walk.

  Rod. That venture must be mine: We’re lost, If we stay here to-morrow.

  Serv. I hope better.

  Serv. One whom I saw among ‘em, to my knowledge, Is a notorious robber.

  Serv. He looked so like a gentleman, I could not know him then.

  Rod. What became of Julia when I fell?

  Serv. We left her weeping over you, till we Were beaten off; but she, and those with her, Were gone when we returned.

  Rod. Too late I find,

  I wronged her in my thoughts. I’m every way

  A wretched man: —

  Something we must resolve on, ere we sleep;

  Draw in the bed, I feel the cold.