by John Dryden
Rho. [embracing Melantha.] O dear young bully thou hast tickled him with a repartee, i’faith.
Mel. You are one of those that applaud our country plays, where drums, and trumpets, and blood, and wounds, are wit.
Rho. Again, my boy? Let me kiss thee most abundantly.
Dor. You are an admirer of the dull French poetry, which is so thin, that it is the very leaf-gold of wit, the very wafers and whip’d cream of sense, for which a man opens his mouth, and gapes, to swallow nothing: And to be an admirer of such profound dulness, one must be endowed with a great perfection of impudence and ignorance.
Pala. Let me embrace thee most vehemently.
Mel. I’ll sacrifice my life for French poetry. [Advancing.
Dor. I’ll die upon the spot for our country wit.
Rho. [to Melantha.] Hold, hold, young Mars! Palamede, draw back your hero.
Pala. ’Tis time; I shall be drawn in for a second else at the wrong weapon.
Mel. O that I were a man, for thy sake!
Dor. You’ll be a man as soon as I shall.
Enter a Messenger to Rhodophil.
Mess. Sir, the king has instant business with you;
I saw the guard drawn up by your lieutenant,
Before the palace-gate, ready to march.
Rho. ’Tis somewhat sudden; say that I am coming. [Exit Messenger.
Now, Palamede, what think you of this sport?
This is some sudden tumult; will you along?
Pala. Yes, yes, I will go; but the devil take me if ever I was less in humour. Why the pox could they not have staid their tumult till to-morrow? Then I had done my business, and been ready for them. Truth is, I had a little transitory crime to have committed first; and I am the worst man in the world at repenting, till a sin be thoroughly done: But what shall we do with the two boys?
Rho. Let them take a lodging in the house, ‘till the business be over.
Dor. What, lie with a boy? For my part, I own it, I cannot endure to lie with a boy.
Pala. The more’s my sorrow, I cannot accommodate you with a better bed-fellow.
Mel. Let me die, if I enter into a pair of sheets with him that hates the French.
Dor. Pish, take no care for us, but leave us in the streets; I warrant you, as late as it is, I’ll find my lodging as well as any drunken bully of them all.
Rho. I’ll light in mere revenge, and wreak my passion,
On all that spoil this hopeful assignation. [Aside.
Pala. I’m sure we light in a good quarrel:
Rogues may pretend religion, and the laws;
But a kind mistress is the good old cause. [Exuent.
SCENE V.
Enter Palmyra, Eubulus, and Hermogenes.
Palm. You tell me wonders; that Leonidas
Is prince Theagenes, the late king’s son.
Eub. It seems as strange to him, as now to you,
Before I had convinced him; but, besides
His great resemblance to the king his father,
The queen his mother lives, secured by me
In a religious house, to whom, each year,
I brought the news of his increasing virtues.
My last long absence from you both was caused
By wounds, which in my journey I received,
When set upon by thieves; I lost those jewels
And letters, which your dying mother left.
Herm. The same he means, which, since, brought to the king,
Made him first know he had a child alive:
’Twas then my care of prince Leonidas,
Caused me to say he was the usurper’s son;
Till after, forced by your apparent danger,
I made the true discovery of your birth,
And once more hid my prince’s.
Enter Leonidas.
Leon. Hermogenes, and Eubulus, retire;
Those of our party, whom I left without,
Expect your aid and counsel. [Exeunt Herm. and Eub.
Palm. I should, Leonidas, congratulate
This happy change of your exalted fate;
But, as my joy, so you my wonder move.
Your looks have more of business than of love;
And your last words some great design did shew.
Leon. I frame not any to be hid from you;
You, in my love, all my designs may see.
But what have love and you designed for me?
Fortune, once more, has set the balance right;
First, equalled us in lowness; then, in height.
Both of us have so long, like gamesters, thrown,
Till fate comes round, and gives to each his own.
As fate is equal, so may love appear:
Tell me, at least, what I must hope, or fear.
Palm. After so many proofs, how can you call
My love in doubt? Fear nothing, and hope all.
Think what a prince, with honour, may receive,
Or I may give, without a parent’s leave.
Leon. You give, and then restrain the grace you shew;
As ostentatious priests, when souls they woo,
Promise their heaven to all, but grant to few.
But do for me, what I have dared for you:
I did no argument from duty bring;
Duty’s a name, and love’s a real thing.
Palm. Man’s love may, like wild torrents, overflow;
Woman’s as deep, but in its banks must go.
My love is mine, and that I can impart;
But cannot give my person, with my heart.
Leon. Your love is then no gift:
For, when the person it does not convey,
’Tis to give gold, and not to give the key.
Palm. Then ask my father.
Leon. He detains my throne;
Who holds back mine, will hardly give his own.
Palm. What then remains?
Leon. That I must have recourse
To arms, and take my love and crown, by force.
Hermogenes is forming the design;
And with him all the brave and loyal join.
Palm. And is it thus you court Palmyra’s bed?
Can she the murderer of her parent wed?
Desist from force: So much you well may give
To love, and me, to let my father live.
Leon. Each act of mine my love to you has shewn;
But you who tax my want of it, have none.
You bid me part with you, and let him live;
But they should nothing ask, who nothing give.
Palm. I give what virtue, and what duty can,
In vowing ne’er to wed another man.
Leon. You will be forced to be Argaleon’s wife.
Palm. I’ll keep my promise, though I lose my life.
Leon. Then you lose love, for which we both contend;
For life is but the means, but love’s the end.
Palm. Our souls shall love hereafter.
Leon. I much fear,
That soul, which could deny the body here
To taste of love, would be a niggard there.
Palm. Then ’tis past hope: our cruel fate, I see,
Will make a sad divorce ‘twixt you and me.
For, if you force employ, by heaven I swear,
And all blessed beings, —
Leon. Your rash oath forbear.
Palm. I never —
Leon. Hold once more. But yet, as he,
Who ‘scapes a dangerous leap, looks back to see;
So I desire, now I am past my fear,
To know what was that oath you meant to swear.
Palm. I meant, that if you hazarded your life,
Or sought my father’s, ne’er to be your wife.
Leon. See now, Palmyra, how unkind you prove!
Could you, with so much ease, forswear my love?
Palm. You force me with your ruinous design.
Leon. Your father’s life is more your care, than mine.
Palm. You wrong me: ’Tis not, though it ought to be;
You are my care, heaven knows, as well as he.
Leon. If now the execution I delay,
My honour, and my subjects, I betray.
All is prepared for the just enterprise;
And the whole city will to-morrow rise.
The leaders of the party are within,
And Eubulus has sworn that he will bring,
To head their arms, the person of their king.
Palm. In telling this, you may be guilty too;
I therefore must discover what I know:
What honour bids you do, nature bids me prevent;
But kill me first, and then pursue your black intent.
Leon. Palmyra, no; you shall not heed to die;
Yet I’ll not trust so strict a piety.
Within there!
Enter Eubulus.
Eubulus, a guard prepare;
Here, I commit this prisoner to your care. [Kisses Palmyra’s hand, then gives it to Eubulus.
Palm. Leonidas, I never thought these bands
Could e’er be given me by a lover’s hands.
Leon. Palmyra, thus your judge himself arraigns; [Kneeling.
He, who imposed these bands, still wears your chains:
When you to love or duty false must be,
Or to your father guilty, or to me,
These chains, alone, remain to set you free. [Noise of swords clashing.
Poly. [within.]
Secure these, first: then search the inner room.
Leon. From whence do these tumultuous clamours come?
Enter Hermogenes, hastily.
Herm. We are betrayed; and there remains alone
This comfort, that your person is not known.
Enter the King, Argaleon, Rhodophil, Palamede, Guards; some like citizens, as prisoners.
Poly. What mean these midnight consultations here,
Where I like an unsummoned guest appear?
Leon. Sir —
Arga. There needs no excuse; ’tis understood;
You were all watching for your prince’s good.
Poly. My reverend city friends, you are well met!
On what great work were your grave wisdoms set?
Which of my actions were you scanning here?
What French invasion have you found to fear?
Leon. They are my friends; and come, sir, with intent,
To take their leaves, before my banishment.
Poly. Your exile in both sexes friends can find:
I see the ladies, like the men, are kind. [Seeing Palmyra.
Palm. Alas, I came but — [Kneeling.
Poly. Add not to your crime
A lie: I’ll hear you speak some other time.
How? Eubulus! nor time, nor thy disguise,
Can keep thee undiscovered from my eyes.
A guard there! seize them all.
Rho. Yield, sir; what use of valour can be shewn?
Pala. One, and unarmed, against a multitude!
Leon. Oh for a sword! [He reaches at one of the Guards’ halberds, and is seized behind.
I wonnot lose my breath
In fruitless prayers; but beg a speedy death.
Palm. O spare Leonidas, and punish me!
Poly. Mean girl, thou want’st an advocate for thee.
Now the mysterious knot will be untied;
Whether the young king lives, or where he died:
To-morrow’s dawn shall the dark riddle clear,
Crown all my joys, and dissipate my fear. [Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Palamede, Strato. Palamede with a letter in his hand.
Pala. This evening, sayest thou? will they both be here?
Stra. Yes, sir, both my old master, and your mistress’s father. The old gentlemen ride hard this journey; they say, it shall be the last time they will see the town; and both of them are so pleased with this marriage, which they have concluded for you, that I am afraid they will live some years longer to trouble you, with the joy of it.
Pala. But this is such an unreasonable thing, to impose upon me to be married to-morrow; ’tis hurrying a man to execution, without giving him time to say his prayers.
Stra. Yet, if I might advise you, sir, you should not delay it; for your younger brother comes up with them, and is got already into their favours. He has gained much upon my old master, by finding fault with innkeepers’ bills, and by starving us, and our horses, to shew his frugality; and he is very well with your mistress’s father, by giving him recipes for the spleen, gout and scurvy, and other infirmities of old age.
Pala. I’ll rout him, and his country education: Pox on him, I remember him before I travelled, he had nothing in him but mere jockey; used to talk loud, and make matches, and was all for the crack of the field: Sense and wit were as much banished from his discourse, as they are when the court goes out of town to a horse race. Go now and provide your master’s lodgings.
Stra. I go, sir. [Exit.
Pala. It vexes me to the heart, to leave all my designs with Doralice unfinished; to have flown her so often to a mark, and still to be bobbed at retrieve: If I had once enjoyed her, though I could not have satisfied my stomach with the feast, at least I should have relished my mouth a little; but now —
Enter Philotis.
Phil. Oh, sir, you are happily met; I was coming to find you.
Pala. From your lady. I hope.
Phil. Partly from her; but more especially from myself: She has just now received a letter from her father, with an absolute command to dispose herself to marry you to-morrow.
Pala. And she takes it to the death?
Phil. Quite contrary: The letter could never have come in a more lucky minute; for it found her in an ill-humour with a rival of yours, that shall be nameless, about the pronunciation of a French word.
Pala. Count Rhodophil? never disguise it, I know the amour: But I hope you took the occasion to strike in for me?
Phil. It was my good fortune to do you some small service in it; for your sake I discommended him all over, — clothes, person, humour, behaviour, every thing; and, to sum up all, told her, it was impossible to find a married man that was otherwise; for they were all so mortified at home with their wives’ ill humours, that they could never recover themselves to be company abroad.
Pala. Most divinely urged!
Phil. Then I took occasion to commend your good qualities; as the sweetness of your humour, the comeliness of your person, your good mein, your valour; but, above all, your liberality.
Pala. I vow to Gad I had like to have forgot that good quality in myself, if thou hadst not remembered me of it: Here are five pieces for thee.
Phil. Lord, you have the softest hand, sir, it would do a woman good to touch it: Count Rhodophil’s is not half so soft; for I remember I felt it once, when he gave me ten pieces for my new-years-gift.
Pala. O, I understand you, madam; you shall find my hand as soft again as Count Rhodophil’s: There are twenty pieces for you. The former was but a retaining fee; now I hope you’ll plead for me.
Phil. Your own merits speak enough. Be sure only to ply her with French words, and I’ll warrant you’ll do your business. Here are a list of her phrases for this day: Use them to her upon all occasions and foil her at her own weapon; for she’s like one of the old Amazons, she’ll never marry, except it be the man who has first conquered her.
Pala. I’ll be sure to follow your advice: But you’ll forget to further my design.
Phil. What, do you think I’ll be ungrateful? — But however, if you distrust my memory, put some token on my finger to remember it by: That diamond there would do admirably.
Pala. There ’tis; and I ask your pardon heartily for calling your memory into question: I assure you I’ll trust it another time, without putting you to the trouble of another token.
Enter Palmyra and Artemis.
Art. Madam, this way the prisoner
s are to pass; Here you may see Leonidas.
Palm. Then here I’ll stay, and follow him to death.
Enter Melantha, hastily.
Mel. O, here’s her highness! Now is my time to introduce myself, and to make my court to her, in my new French phrases. Stay, let me read my catalogue — Suite, figure, chagrin, naiveté, and let me die, for the parenthesis of all.
Pala. [Aside.] Do, persecute her; and I’ll persecute thee as fast in thy own dialect.
Mel. Madam, the princess! let me die, but this is a most horrid spectacle, to see a person, who makes so grand a figure in the court, without the suite of a princess, and entertaining your chagrin all alone: — Naiveté should have been there, but the disobedient word would not come in.
[Aside.
Palm. What is she, Artemis?
Art. An impertinent lady, madam; very ambitious of being known to your highness.
Pala. [To Melantha.] Let me die, madam, if I have not waited you here these two long hours, without so much as the suite of a single servant to attend me; entertaining myself with my own chagrin till I had the honour of seeing your ladyship, who are a person that makes so considerable a figure in the court.
Mel. Truce with your douceurs, good servant; you see I am addressing to the princess; pray do not embarrass me — Embarrass me! what a delicious French word do you make me lose upon you too! [To the Princess.] Your highness, madam, will please to pardon the beveue which I made, in not sooner finding you out to be a princess: But let me die if this eclaircissement, which is made this day of your quality, does not ravish me; and give me leave to tell you —
Pala. But first give me leave to tell you, madam, that I have so great a tendre for your person, and such a penchant to do you service, that —
Mel. What, must I still be troubled with your sottises? (There’s another word lost, that I meant for the princess, with a mischief to you!) But your highness, madam —
Pala. But your ladyship, madam —
Enter Leonidas, guarded and led over the stage.
Mel. Out upon him, how he looks, madam! now he’s found no prince, he is the strangest figure of a man; how could I make that coup d’etourdi to think him one?
Palm. Away, impertinent! — my dear Leonidas!
Leon. My dear Palmyra!
Palm. Death shall never part us; my destiny is yours. [He is led off, she follows.