ÆOL. Great Neptune!
NEPT. He.
ÆOL. What is thy will?
NEPT. We do command thee free:
Favonius and thy milder winds, to wait
Upon our Cynthia; but tie Boreas strait,12
He’s too rebellious.
ÆOL. I shall do it.
NEPT. DO.
Exit Æolus
ÆOL. [Within] Great master of the flood and all below,
Thy full command has taken. Ho, the Main!
Neptune!
Re-enter Æolus, followed by Favonius and other Winds
NEPT. Here.
ÆOL. Boreas has broke his chain,
And, struggling with the rest, has got away.
NEPT. Let him alone, I’ll take him up at sea;
I will not long be thence. Go once again,
And call out of the bottoms of the main
Blue Proteus and the rest; charge them put on
Their greatest pearls, and the most sparkling stone
The beaten rock breeds; tell this night is done
By me a solemn honor to the Moon:
Fly, like a full sail.
ÆOL. I am gone.
Exit
CYNTH. Dark Night,
Strike a full silence, do a thorough right
To this great chorus, that our music may
Touch high as heaven, and make the east break day
At midnight.
Music
FIRST SONG
During which Proteus and other Sea-deities enter
Cynthia, to thy power and thee
We obey.
Joy to this great company!
And no day
Come to steal this night away,
Till the rites of love are ended,
And the lusty bridegroom say,
Welcome, light, of all befriended!
Pace out, you watery powers below,
Let your feet,
Like the galleys when they row,
Even beat:
Let your unknown measures, set
To the still winds, tell to all,
That gods are come, immortal, great,
To honor this great nuptial.
The Measure
SECOND SONG
Hold back thy hours, dark Night, till we have done;
The Day will come too soon:
Young maids will curse thee, if thou steal’st away,
And leav’st their losses open to the day:
Stay, stay, and hide
The blushes of the bride.
Stay, gentle Night, and with thy darkness cover
The kisses of her lover;
Stay, and confound her tears and her shrill cryings,
Her weak denials, vows, and often-dyings;
Stay, and hide all:
But help not, though she call.
Another Measure
NEPT. Great queen of us and heaven, hear what I bring
To make this hour a full one.
CYNTH. Speak, sea’s king.
NEPT. The tunes my Amphitrite joys to have,
When she will dance upon the rising wave,
And court me as she sails. My Tritons, play
Music to lay a storm! I’ll lead the way.
Measure
[The Masquers dance which Neptune leads]
THIRD SONG
To bed, to bed! Come, Hymen, lead the bride,
And lay her by her husband’s side;
Bring in the virgins every one,
That grieve to lie alone;
That they may kiss while they may say, a maid;
To-morrow ’twill be other kissed and said.
Hesperus, be long a-shining,
Whilst these lovers are a-twining.
ÆOL. [Within] Ho, Neptune!
NEPT. Æolus!
Re-enter Æolus
ÆOL. The sea goes high,
Boreas hath raised a storm: go and apply
Thy trident; else, I prophesy, ere day
Many a tall ship will be cast away.
Descend with all the gods and all their power,
To strike a calm.
Exit
CYNTH. We thank you for this hour:
My favor to you all. To gratulate
So great a service, done at my desire,
Ye shall have many floods, fuller and higher
Than you have wished for; and no ebb shall dare
To let the Day see where your dwellings are.
Now back unto your governments in haste,
Lest your proud charge should swell above the waste,
And win upon the island.
NEPT. We obey.
Neptune descends and the Sea-gods
CYNTH. Hold up thy head, dead Night; see’st thou not Day?
The east begins to lighten: I must down,
And give my brother place.
NIGHT. O, I could frown
To see the Day, the Day that flings his light
Upon my kingdom and contemns old Night!
Let him go on and flame! I hope to see
Another wild-fire in his axle-tree,13
And all fall drenched. But I forget; speak, queen:
The Day grows on; I must no more be seen.
CYNTH. Heave up thy drowsy head again, and see
A greater light, a greater majesty,
Between our sect and us! whip up thy team:
The Day breaks here, and yon sun-flaring stream
Shot from the south.14 Which way wilt thou go? say.
NIGHT. I’ll vanish into mists.
CYNTH. I into Day.
Exeunt
Finis Masque
KING. Take lights there!—Ladies, get the bride to bed.—
We will not see you laid; good night, Amintor;
We’ll ease you of that tedious ceremony:
Were it my case, I should think time run slow.
If thou be’st noble, youth, get me a boy,
That may defend my kingdom from my foes.
AMIN. All happiness to you!
KING. Good night, Melantius.
Exeunt
ACT II, SCENE I
Enter Evadne, Aspatia, Dula, and other Ladies
DULA. Madam, shall we undress you for this fight?
The wars are naked that you must make to-night.
EVAD. You are very merry, Dula.
DULA. I should be
Far merrier, madam, if it were with me
As it is with you.
EVAD. How’s that?
DULA. That I might go
To bed with him wi’ th’ credit that you do.
EVAD. Why, how now, wench?
DULA. Come, ladies, will you help?
EVAD. I am soon undone.
DULA. And as soon done:
Good store of clothes will trouble you at both.
EVAD. Art thou drunk, Dula?
DULA. Why, here’s none but we.
EVAD. Thou think’st belike there is no modesty
When we’re alone.
DULA. Ay, by my troth, you hit my thoughts aright.
EVAD. You prick me, lady.
1 LADY. ’Tis against my will.
DULA. Anon you must endure more and lie still;
You’re best to practise.
EVAD. Sure, this wench is mad.
DULA. No, faith, this is a trick that I have had
Since I was fourteen.
EVAD. ’Tis high time to leave it.
DULA. Nay, now I’ll keep it till the trick leave me.
A dozen wanton words, put in your head,
Will make you livelier in your husband’s bed.
EVAD. Nay, faith, then take it.15
DULA. Take it, madam! where?
We all, I hope, will take it that are here.
EVAD. Nay, then, I’ll give you o’er.
DULA. So I will make
The ablest man in Rhodes, or his heart ache.
EVAD. Wilt take my place to-night?
EVAD. What wilt thou do?
DULA. Madam, we’ll do’t, and make ’em leave play too.
EVAD. Aspatia, take her part.
DULA. I will refuse it:
She will pluck down a side;16 she does not use it.
EVAD. Why, do, I prithee.
DULA. You will find the play
Quickly, because your head lies well that way.
EVAD. I thank thee, Dula. Would thou couldst instil
Some of thy mirth into Aspatia!
Nothing but sad thoughts in her breast do dwell:
Methinks, a mean betwixt you would do well.
DULA. She is in love: hang me, if I were so,
But I could run my country. I love too
To do those things that people in love do.
ASP. It was a timeless17 smile should prove my cheek;
It were a fitter hour for me to laugh,
When at the altar the religious priest
Were pacifying the offended powers
With sacrifice, than now. This should have been
My rite; and all your hands have been employed
In giving me a spotless offering
To young Amintor’s bed, as we are now
For you. Pardon, Evadne: would my worth
Were great as yours, or that the King, or he,
Or both, thought so! Perhaps he found me worthless:
But till he did so, in these ears of mine,
These credulous ears, he poured the sweetest words
That art or love could frame. If he were false,
Pardon it, heaven! and, if I did want
Virtue, you safely may forgive that too;
For I have lost none that I had from you.
EVAD. Nay, leave this sad talk, madam.
ASP. Would I could!
Then should I leave the cause.
EVAD. See, if you have not spoiled all Dula’s mirth!
ASP. Thou think’st thy heart hard; but, if thou be’st caught,
Remember me; thou shalt perceive a fire
Shot suddenly into thee.
DULA. That’s not so good; let ’em shoot anything but fire,
I fear ’em not.
ASP. Well, wench, thou may’st be taken.
EVAD. Ladies, good night: I’ll do the rest myself.
DULA. Nay, let your lord do some.
ASP. [Singing] Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew—
EVAD. That’s one of your sad songs, madam.
ASP. Believe me, ’tis a very pretty one.
EVAD. How is it, madam?
ASP. [Singing]
Lay a garland on my hearse
Of the dismal yew;
Maidens, willow-branches bear;
Say I died true.
My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth:
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth!
EVAD. Fie on’t, madam! the words are so strange, they are able to make one dream of hobgoblins.—
I could never have the power—sing that, Dula.
DULA. [Singing]
I could never have the power
To love one above an hour,
But my heart would prompt mine eye
On some other man to fly.
Venus, fix mine eyes fast,
Or, if not, give me all that I shall see at last!
EVAD. So, leave me now.
DULA. Nay, we must see you laid.
ASP. Madam, good night. May all the marriage-joys
That longing maids imagine in their beds
Prove so unto you! May no discontent
Grow ’twixt your love and you! but, if there do,
Inquire of me, and I will guide your moan;
Teach you an artificial18 way to grieve,
To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord
No worse than I: but, if you love so well,
Alas, you may displease him! so did I.
This is the last time you shall look on me.—
Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead,
Come all and watch one night about my hearse;
Bring each a mournful story and a tear,
To offer at it when I go to earth;
With flattering ivy clasp my coffin round;
Write on my brow my fortune; let my bier
Be borne by virgins, that shall sing by course19
The truth of maids and perjuries of men.
EVAD. Alas, I pity thee.
Exit Evadne
ALL. Madam, good night.
1 LADY. Come, we’ll let in the bridegroom.
DULA. Where’s my lord?
Enter Amintor
1 LADY. Here, take this light:
DULA. You’ll find her in the dark.
1 LADY. Your lady’s scarce a-bed yet; you must help her.
ASP. Go, and be happy in your lady’s love.
May all the wrongs that you have done to me
Be utterly forgotten in my death!
I’ll trouble you no more; yet I will take
A parting kiss, and will not be denied.—
[Kisses Amintor]
You’ll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep
When I am laid in earth, though you yourself
Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself
Into this willow-garland,20 and am prouder
That I was once your love, though now refused,
Than to have had another true to me.
So with my prayers I leave you, and must try
some yet unpractised way to grieve and die.
Exit Aspatia
DULA. Come, ladies, will you go?
ALL. Good night, my lord.
AMIN. Much happiness unto you all!
Ladies exeunt
I did that lady wrong. Methinks, I feel
A grief shoot suddenly through all my veins;
Mine eyes rain: this is strange at such a time.
It was the King first moved me to’t; but he
Has not my will in keeping. Why do I
Perplex myself thus? Something whispers me,
Go not to bed. My guilt is not so great
As mine own conscience too sensible21
Would make me think; I only brake a promise,
And ’twas the King that forced me. Timorous flesh,
Why shak’st thou so? Away, my idle fears!
Enter Evadne
Yonder she is, the luster of whose eye
Can blot away the sad remembrance
Of all these things.—O, my Evadne, spare
That tender body; let it not take cold!
The vapors of the night shall not fall here.
To bed, my love: Hymen will punish us
For being slack performers of his rites.
Camest thou to call me?
EVAD. No.
AMIN. Come, come, my love,
And let us lose ourselves to one another.
Why art thou up so long?
EVAD. I am not well.
AMIN. To bed then; let me wind thee in these arms
Till I have banished sickness.
EVAD. Good my lord,
I cannot sleep.
AMIN. Evadne, we will watch;22
I mean no sleeping.
EVAD. I’ll not go to bed.
AMIN. I prithee, do.
EVAD. I will not for the world.
AMIN. Why, my dear love?
EVAD. Why! I have sworn I will not.
AMIN. Sworn!
EVAD. Ay,
AMIN. How.? sworn, Evadne!
EVAD. Yes, sworn, Amintor; and will swear again,
If you will wish to hear me.
AMIN. To whom have you sworn this?
EVAD. If I should name him, the matter were not great.
AMIN. Come, this is but the coyness of a bride.
EVAD. The coyness of a bride!
/> AMIN. How prettily
That frown becomes thee!
EVAD. Do you like it so?
AMIN. Thou canst not dress thy face in such a look
But I shall like it.
EVAD. What look likes you best?
AMIN. Why do you ask?
EVAD. That I may show you one less pleasing to you.
AMIN. How’s that?
EVAD. That I may show you one less pleasing to you.
AMIN. I prithee, put thy jests in milder looks;
It shows as thou wert angry.
EVAD. So perhaps
I am indeed.
AMIN. Why, who has done thee wrong?
Name me the man, and by thyself I swear,
Thy yet-unconquered self, I will revenge thee!
EVAD. Now I shall try thy truth. If thou dost love me,
Thou weigh’st not any thing compared with me:
Life, honor, joys eternal, all delights
This world can yield, or hopeful people feign,
Or in the life to come, are light as air
To a true lover when his lady frowns,
And bids him do this. Wilt thou kill this man?
Swear, my Amintor, and I’ll kiss the sin
Off from thy lips.
AMIN. I wo’ not swear, sweet love,
Till I do know the cause.
EVAD. I would thou wouldst.
Why, it is thou that wrong’st me; I hate thee;
Thou should’st have killed thyself.
AMIN. If I should know that, I should quickly kill
The man you hated.
EVAD. Know it, then, and do’t.
AMIN. O, no! what look soe’er thou shalt put on
To try my faith, I shall not think thee false;
I cannot find one blemish in thy face,
Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to bed.
If you have sworn to any of the virgins
That were your old companions to preserve
Your maidenhead a night, it may be done
Without this means.
EVAD. A maidenhead, Amintor,
At my years!
AMIN. Sure she raves; this cannot be
Her natural temper.—Shall I call thy maids?
Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long,
Or else some fever rages in thy blood.
EVAD. Neither, Amintor: think you I am mad,
Because I speak the truth?
AMIN. Is this the truth?
Will you not lie with me to-night?
EVAD. To-night!
You talk as if you thought I would hereafter.
AMIN. Hereafter! yes, I do.
EVAD. You are deceived.
Put off amazement, and with patience mark
What I shall utter, for the oracle
Knows nothing truer: ’tis not for a night
Or two that I forbear thy bed, but ever.
AMIN. I dream. Awake, Amintor!
The Duchess of Malfi Page 32