The works of John Dryden, now first collected in eighteen volumes. Volume 04

SCENE II.

Palamede and Doralice meet: She, with a book in her hand, seems to start at the sight of him.

Dor. 'Tis a strange thing that no warning will serve your turn; and that no retirement will secure me from your impertinent addresses! Did not I tell you, that I was to be private here at my devotions?

Pala. Yes; and you see I have observed my cue exactly: I am come to relieve you from them. Come, shut up, shut up your book; the man's come who is to supply all your necessities.

Dor. Then, it seems, you are so impudent to think it was an assignation? This, I warrant, was your lewd interpretation of my innocent meaning.

Pala. Venus forbid, that I should harbour so unreasonable a thought of a fair young lady, that you should lead me hither into temptation. I confess, I might think indeed it was a kind of honourable challenge, to meet privately without seconds, and decide the difference betwixt the two sexes; but heaven forgive me, if I thought amiss.

Dor. You thought too, I'll lay my life on't, that you might as well make love to me, as my husband does to your mistress.

Pala. I was so unreasonable to think so too.

Dor. And then you wickedly inferred, that there was some justice in the revenge of it; or, at least, but little injury for a man to endeavour to enjoy that, which he accounts a blessing, and which is not valued as it ought by the dull possessor. Confess your wickedness,—did you not think so?

Pala. I confess I was thinking so, as fast as I could; but you think so much before me, that you will let me think nothing.

Dor. 'Tis the very thing that I designed; I have forestalled all your arguments, and left you without a word more, to plead for mercy. If you have any thing farther to offer, ere sentence pass—Poor animal, I brought you hither only for my diversion.

Pala. That you may have, if you'll make use of me the right way; but I tell thee, woman, I am now past talking.

Dor. But it may be, I came hither to hear what fine things you could say for yourself.

Pala. You would be very angry, to my knowledge, if I should lose so much time to say many of them.—By this hand you would!

Dor. Fye, Palamede, I am a woman of honour.

Pala. I see you are; you have kept touch with your assignation: And before we part, you shall find that I am a man of honour. Yet I have one scruple of conscience—

Dor. I warrant you will not want some naughty argument, or other, to satisfy yourself.—I hope you are afraid of betraying your friend?

Pala. Of betraying my friend! I am more afraid of being betrayed by you to my friend. You women now are got into the way of telling first yourselves: A man, who has any care of his reputation, will be loth to trust it with you.

Dor. O, you charge your faults upon our sex! You men are like cocks; you never make love, but you clap your wings, and crow when you have done.

Pala. Nay, rather you women are like hens; you never lay, but you cackle an hour after, to discover your nest.—But I'll venture it for once.

Dor. To convince you that you are in the wrong, I'll retire into the dark grotto, to my devotion, and make so little noise, that it shall be impossible for you to find me.

Pala. But if I find you—

Dor. Ay, if you find me—But I'll put you to search in more corners than you imagine.
[She runs in, and he after her.

Enter Rhodophil and Melantha.

Mel. Let me die, but this solitude, and that grotto are scandalous; I'll go no further; besides, you have a sweet lady of your own.

Rho. But a sweet mistress, now and then, makes my sweet lady so much more sweet.

Mel. I hope you will not force me?

Rho. But I will, if you desire it.

Pala. [Within.] Where the devil are you, madam? 'Sdeath, I begin to be weary of this hide and seek: If you stay a little longer, till the fit's over, I'll hide in my turn, and put you to the finding me. [He enters, and sees Rhodophil and Melantha.] How! Rhodophil and my mistress!

Mel. My servant, to apprehend me! this is surprenant au dernier.

Rho. I must on; there's nothing but impudence can help me out.

Pala. Rhodophil, how came you hither in so good company?

Rho. As you see, Palamede; an effect of pure friendship; I was not able to live without you.

Pala. But what makes my mistress with you?

Rho. Why, I heard you were here alone, and could not in civility but bring her to you.

Mel. You'll pardon the effects of a passion which I may now avow for you, if it transported me beyond the rules of bienseance.

Pala. But, who told you I was here? they, that told you that, may tell you more, for aught I know.

Rho. O, for that matter, we had intelligence.

Pala. But let me tell you, we came hither so very privately, that you could not trace us. Rho. Us! what us? you are alone.

Pala. Us! the devil's in me for mistaking:—me, I meant. Or us, that is, you are me, or I you, as we are friends: That's us.

Dor. Palamede, Palamede! [Within.

Rho. I should know that voice; who's within there, that calls you?

Pala. Faith, I can't imagine; I believe the place is haunted.

Dor. Palamede, Palamede, all-cocks hidden. [Within.

Pala. Lord, Lord, what shall I do?—Well, dear friend, to let you see I scorn to be jealous, and that I dare trust my mistress with you, take her back, for I would not willingly have her frighted, and I am resolved to see who's there; I'll not be daunted with a bugbear, that's certain:—Prithee, dispute it not, it shall be so; nay do not put me to swear, but go quickly: There's an effort of pure friendship for you now.

Enter Doralice, and looks amazed, seeing them.

Rho. Doralice! I am thunder-struck to see you here.

Pala. So am I! quite thunder-struck. Was it you, that called me within?—I must be impudent.

Rho. How came you hither, spouse?

Pala. Ay, how came you hither? And, which is more, how could you be here without my knowledge?

Dor. [To her husband.] O, gentlemen, have I caught you i'faith! have I broke forth in ambush upon you! I thought my suspicions would prove true.

Rho. Suspicions! this is very fine, spouse! Prithee, what suspicions?

Dor. O, you feign ignorance: Why, of you and Melantha; here have I staid these two hours, waiting with all the rage of a passionate, loving wife, but infinitely jealous, to take you two in the manner; for hither I was certain you would come.

Rho. But you are mistaken, spouse, in the occasion; for we came hither on purpose to find Palamede, on intelligence he was gone before.

Pala. I'll be hanged then, if the same party, who gave you intelligence I was here, did not tell your wife you would come hither. Now I smell the malice on't on both sides.

Dor. Was it so, think you? nay, then, I'll confess my part of the malice too. As soon as ever I spied my husband and Melantha come together, I had a strange temptation to make him jealous in revenge; and that made me call Palamede, Palamede! as though there had been an intrigue between us.

Mel. Nay, I avow, there was an appearance of an intrigue between us too.

Pala. To see how things will come about!

Rho. And was it only thus, my dear Doralice? [Embrace.

Dor. And did I wrong n'own Rhodophil, with a false suspicion? [Embracing him.

Pala. [Aside.] Now I am confident we had all four the same design: 'Tis a pretty odd kind of game this, where each of us plays for double stakes: This is just thrust and parry with the same motion; I am to get his wife, and yet to guard my own mistress. But I am vilely suspicious, that, while I conquer in the right wing, I shall be routed in the left; for both our women will certainly betray their party, because they are each of them for gaining of two, as well as we; and I much fear.
If their necessities and ours were known,
They have more need of two, than we of one. [Exeunt, embracing one another.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter Leonidas, musing; Amalthea, following him.

Amal. Yonder he is; and I must speak or die;
And yet 'tis death to speak: yet he must know
I have a passion for him, and may know it
With a less blush; because to offer it
To his low fortunes, shows I loved before,
His person, not his greatness.

Leon. First scorned, and now commanded from the court!
The king is good; but he is wrought to this
By proud Argaleon's malice.
What more disgrace can love and fortune join
To inflict upon one man? I cannot now
Behold my dear Palmyra: She, perhaps, too,
Is grown ashamed of a mean ill-placed love.

Amal. Assist me, Venus, for I tremble when
I am to speak, but I must force myself. [Aside.
Sir, I would crave but one short minute with you,
And some few words.

Leon. The proud Argaleon's sister! [Aside.

Amal. Alas! it will not out; Shame stops my mouth. [Aside.
Pardon my error, sir; I was mistaken,
And took you for another.

Leon. In spite of all his guards, I'll see Palmyra; [Aside.
Though meanly born, I have a kingly soul.

Amal. I stand upon a precipice, where fain
I would retire, but love still thrusts me on:
Now I grow bolder, and will speak to him. [Aside.
Sir, 'tis indeed to you that I would speak,
And if—

Leon. O, you are sent to scorn my fortunes?
Your sex and beauty are your privilege;
But should your brother—

Amal. Now he looks angry, and I dare not speak.
I had some business with you, sir,
But 'tis not worth your knowledge.

Leon. Then 'twill be charity to let me mourn
My griefs alone, for I am much disordered.

Amal. 'Twill be more charity to mourn them with you:
Heaven knows I pity you.

Leon. Your pity, madam,
Is generous, but 'tis unavailable.

Amal. You know not till 'tis tried.
Your sorrows are no secret; you have lost
A crown, and mistress.

Leon. Are not these enough?
Hang two such weights on any other soul,
And see if it can bear them.

Amal. More; you are banished, by my brother's means,
And ne'er must hope again to see your princess;
Except as prisoners view fair walks and streets,
And careless passengers going by their grates,
To make them feel the want of liberty.
But, worse than all,
The king this morning has enjoined his daughter
To accept my brother's love.

Leon. Is this your pity?
You aggravate my griefs, and print them deeper,
In new and heavier stamps.

Amal. 'Tis as physicians show the desperate ill,
To endear their art, by mitigating pains
They cannot wholly cure: When you despair
Of all you wish, some part of it, because
Unhoped for, may be grateful; and some other—

Leon. What other?

Amal. Some other may—
My shame again has seized me, and I can go [Aside.
No farther.

Leon. These often failing sighs and interruptions
Make me imagine you have grief like mine:
Have you ne'er loved?

Amal. I? never!—'Tis in vain:
I must despair in silence. [Aside.

Leon. You come, as I suspected then, to mock,
At least observe, my griefs: Take it not ill,
That I must leave you. [Is going.

Amal. You must not go with these unjust opinions.
Command my life and fortunes: you are wise;
Think, and think well, what I can do to serve you.

Leon. I have but one thing in my thoughts and wishes:
If, by your means, I can obtain the sight
Of my adored Palmyra; or, what's harder,
One minute's time, to tell her, I die hers— [She starts back.
I see I am not to expect it from you;
Nor could, indeed, with reason.

Amal. Name any other thing! Is Amalthea
So despicable, she can serve your wishes
In this alone?

Leon. If I should ask of heaven,
I have no other suit.

Amal. To show you, then, I can deny you nothing,
Though 'tis more hard to me than any other,
Yet I will do it for you.

Leon. Name quickly, name the means! speak, my good angel!

Amal. Be not so much o'erjoyed; for, if you are,
I'll rather die than do't. This night the court
Will be in masquerade;
You shall attend on me; in that disguise
You may both see and speak to her,
If you dare venture it.

Leon. Yes; were a god her guardian,
And bore in each hand thunder, I would venture.

Amal. Farewell, then; two hours hence I will expect you:—
My heart's so full, that I can stay no longer. [Exit.

Leon. Already it grows dusky: I'll prepare
With haste for my disguise. But who are these?

Enter Hermogenes and Eubulus.

Her. 'Tis he; we need not fear to speak to him.

Eub. Leonidas?

Leon. Sure I have known that voice.

Her. You have some reason, sir: 'tis Eubulus,
Who bred you with the princess; and, departing,
Bequeathed you to my care.

Leon. My foster-father! let my knees express
My joys for your return! [Kneeling.

Eub. Rise, sir; you must not kneel.

Leon. E'er since you left me,
I have been wandering in a maze of fate,
Led by false fires of a fantastic glory,
And the vain lustre of imagined crowns.
But, ah! why would you leave me? or how could you
Absent yourself so long?

Eub. I'll give you a most just account of both:
And something more I have to tell you, which
I know must cause your wonder; but this place,
Though almost hid in darkness, is not safe.
Already I discern some coming towards us [Torches appear.
With lights, who may discover me. Hermogenes,
Your lodgings are hard by, and much more private.

Her. There you may freely speak.

Leon. Let us make haste;
For some affairs, and of no small importance,
Call me another way. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Palamede and Rhodophil, with Vizor Masques in their Hands, and Torches before them.

Pala. We shall have noble sport to-night, Rhodophil; this masquerading is a most glorious invention.

Rho. I believe it was invented first by some jealous lover, to discover the haunts of his jilting mistress; or, perhaps, by some distressed servant, to gain an opportunity with a jealous man's wife.

Pala. No, it must be the invention of a woman, it has so much of subtilty and love in it.

Rho. I am sure 'tis extremely pleasant; for to go unknown, is the next degree to going invisible.

Pala. What with our antic habits and feigned voices,—Do you know me? and—I know you,—methinks we move and talk just like so many overgrown puppets.

Rho. Masquerade is only vizor-mask improved; a heightening of the same fashion.

Pala. No, masquerade is vizor-mask in debauch, and I like it the better for't: for, with a vizor-mask, we fool ourselves into courtship, for the sake of an eye that glanced; or a hand that stole itself out of the glove sometimes, to give us a sample of the skin: But in masquerade there is nothing to be known, she's all terra incognita; and the bold discoverer leaps ashore, and takes his lot among the wild Indians and savages, without the vile consideration of safety to his person, or of beauty, or wholesomeness in his mistress.

Enter Beliza.

Rho. Beliza, what make you here?

Bel. Sir, my lady sent me after you, to let you know, she finds herself a little indisposed; so that she cannot be at court, but is retired to rest in her own apartment, where she shall want the happiness of your dear embraces to night.

Rho. A very fine phrase, Beliza, to let me know my wife desires to lie alone.

Pala. I doubt, Rhodophil, you take the pains sometimes to instruct your wife's woman in these elegancies.

Rho. Tell my dear lady, that since I must be so unhappy as not to wait on her to-night, I will lament bitterly for her absence. 'Tis true I shall be at court, but I will take no divertisement there; and when I return to my solitary bed, if I am so forgetful of my passion as to sleep, I will dream of her; and betwixt sleep and waking, put out my foot towards her side, for midnight consolation; and, not finding her, I will sigh, and imagine myself a most desolate widower.

Bel. I shall do your commands, sir. [Exit.

Rho. [Aside.] She's sick as aptly for my purpose, as if she had contrived it so. Well, if ever woman was a help-mate for man, my spouse is so; for within this hour I received a note from Melantha, that she would meet me this evening in masquerade, in boys' habit, to rejoice with me before she entered into fetters; for I find she loves me better than Palamede, only because he's to be her husband. There's something of antipathy in the word marriage to the nature of love: marriage is the mere ladle of affection, that cools it when 'tis never so fiercely boiling over.

Pala. Dear Rhodophil, I must needs beg your pardon; there is an occasion fallen out which I had forgot: I cannot be at court to-night.

Rho. Dear Palamede, I am sorry we shall not have one course together at the herd; but I find your game lies single: Good fortune to you with your mistress.
[Exit.

Pala. He has wished me good fortune with his wife; there's no sin in this then, there's fair leave given. Well, I must go visit the sick; I cannot resist the temptations of my charity. O what a difference will she find betwixt a dull resty husband and a quick vigorous lover! He sets out like a carrier's horse, plodding on, because he knows he must, with the bells of matrimony chiming so melancholy about his neck, in pain till he's at his journey's end; and, despairing to get thither, he is fain to fortify imagination with the thoughts of another woman: I take heat after heat, like a well-breathed courser, and—But hark, what noise is that? Swords! [Clashing of swords within.] Nay, then, have with you.
[Exit Pala.

Re-enter Palamede, with Rhodophil; and Doralice in man's habit.

Rho. Friend, your relief was very timely, otherwise I had been oppressed.

Pala. What was the quarrel?

Rho. What I did was in rescue of this youth.

Pala. What cause could he give them?

Dor. The cause was nothing but only the common cause of fighting in masquerades: They were drunk, as I was sober.

Rho. Have they not hurt you?

Dor. No; but I am exceeding ill with the fright on't.

Pala. Let's lead him to some place, where he may refresh himself.

Rho. Do you conduct him then.

Pala. [Aside.] How cross this happens to my design of going to Doralice! for I am confident she was sick on purpose that I should visit her. Hark you, Rhodophil, could not you take care of the stripling? I am partly engaged to-night.

Rho. You know I have business; but come, youth, if it must be so.

Dor. to Rho. No, good sir, do not give yourself that trouble; I shall be safer, and better pleased with your friend here.

Rho. Farewell, then; once more I wish you a good adventure.

Pala. Damn this kindness! now must I be troubled with this young rogue, and miss my opportunity with Doralice.
[Exit Rho. alone; Pala. with Dor.

SCENE III.

Enter Polydamus.

Poly. Argaleon counselled well to banish him:
He has, I know not what,
Of greatness in his looks, and of high fate,
That almost awes me; but I fear my daughter,
Who hourly moves me for him; and I marked,
She sighed when I but named Argaleon to her.
But see, the maskers: Hence, my cares, this night!
At least take truce, and find me on my pillow.

Enter the Princess in masquerade, with Ladies. At the other end, Argaleon and Gentlemen in masquerade; then Leonidas leading Amalthea. The King sits. A Dance. After the Dance,

Amal. to Leon. That's the princess;
I saw the habit ere she put it on.

Leon. I know her by a thousand other signs;
She cannot hide so much divinity.
Disguised, and silent, yet some graceful motion
Breaks from her, and shines round her like a glory. [Goes to Palmyra.

Amal. Thus she reveals herself, and knows it not;
Like love's dark lanthorn, I direct his steps,
And yet he sees not that, which gives him light.

Palm. I know you; but, alas! Leonidas,
Why should you tempt this danger on yourself?

Leon. Madam, you know me not, if you believe;
I would not hazard greater for your sake.
But you, I fear, are changed.

Palm. No, I am still the same;
But there are many things became Palmyra,
Which ill become the princess.

Leon, I ask nothing
Which honour will not give you leave to grant:
One hour's short audience, at my father's house,
You cannot sure refuse me.

Palm. Perhaps I should, did I consult strict virtue;
But something must be given to love and you.
When would you I should come?

Leon. This evening, with the speediest opportunity.
I have a secret to discover to you,
Which will surprise and please you.

Palm. 'Tis enough.
Go now; for we may be observed and known.
I trust your honour; give me not occasion
To blame myself, or you.

Leon. You never shall repent your good opinion. [Kisses her hand, and Exit.

Arga. I cannot be deceived; that is the princess:
One of her maids betrayed the habit to me.
But who was he with whom she held discourse?
'Tis one she favours, for he kissed her hand.
Our shapes are like, our habits near the same;
She may mistake, and speak to me for him.
I am resolved; I'll satisfy my doubts,
Though to be more tormented.

Another Dance. After it, Argaleon re-enters, and stands by the Princess.

Palm. Leonidas, what means this quick return? [To Arga.

Arga. O heaven! 'tis what I feared.

Palm. Is aught of moment happened since you went?

Arga. No, madam; but I understood not fully
Your last commands.

Palm. And yet you answered to them.
Retire; you are too indiscreet a lover:
I'll meet you where I promised. [Exit.

Arga. O my curst fortune! what have I discovered!
But I will be revenged. [Whispers to the King.

Poly. But are you certain you are not deceived?

Arga. Upon my life.

Poly. Her honour is concerned.
Somewhat I'll do; but I am yet distracted,
And know not where to fix. I wished a child,
And heaven, in anger, granted my request.
So blind we are, our wishes are so vain,
That what we most desire, proves most our pain. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

An Eating-house. Bottles of Wine on the table. Palamede, and Doralice, in Man's Habit.

Dor. [Aside.] Now cannot I find in my heart to discover myself, though I long he should know me.

Pala. I tell thee, boy, now I have seen thee safe, I must be gone: I have no leisure to throw away on thy raw conversation; I am a person that understands better things, I.

Dor. Were I a woman, oh how you would admire me! cry up every word I said, and screw your face into a submissive smile; as I have seen a dull gallant act wit, and counterfeit pleasantness, when he whispers to a great person in a play-house; smile, and look briskly, when the other answers, as if something of extraordinary had past betwixt them, when, heaven knows, there was nothing else but,—What a clock does your lordship think it is? And my lord's repartee is,—It is almost park-time: or, at most,—Shall we out of the pit, and go behind the scenes for an act or two—And yet such fine things as these would be wit in a mistress's mouth.

Pala. Ay, boy; there dame Nature's in the case: He, who cannot find wit in a mistress, deserves to find nothing else, boy. But these are riddles to thee, child, and I have not leisure to instruct thee; I have affairs to dispatch, great affairs; I am a man of business.

Dor. Come, you shall not go: You have no affairs but what you may dispatch here, to my knowledge.

Pala. I find now, thou art a boy of more understanding than I thought thee; a very lewd wicked boy: O' my conscience, thou would'st debauch me, and hast some evil designs upon my person.

Dor. You are mistaken, sir; I would only have you shew me a more lawful reason why you would leave me, than I can why you should not, and I'll not stay you; for I am not so young, but I understand the necessities of flesh and blood, and the pressing occasions of mankind, as well as you.

Pala. A very forward and understanding boy! thou art in great danger of a page's wit, to be brisk at fourteen, and dull at twenty. But I'll give thee no further account; I must, and will go.

Dor. My life on it, your mistress is not at home.

Pala. This imp will make me very angry.—I tell thee, young sir, she is at home, and at home for me; and, which is more, she is a-bed for me, and sick for me.

Dor. For you only?

Pala. Aye, for me only.

Dor. But how do you know she's sick a-bed?

Pala. She sent her husband word so.

Dor. And are you such a novice in love, to believe a wife's message to her husband?

Pala. Why, what the devil should be her meaning else?

Dor. It may be, to go in masquerade, as well as you; to observe your haunts, and keep you company without your knowledge.

Pala. Nay, I'll trust her for that: She loves me too well, to disguise herself from me.

Dor. If I were she, I would disguise on purpose to try your wit; and come to my servant like a riddle,—Read me, and take me.

Pala. I could know her in any shape: My good genius would prompt me to find out a handsome woman: There's something that would attract me to her without my knowledge.

Dor. Then you make a load-stone of your mistress?

Pala. Yes, and I carry steel about me, which has been so often touched, that it never fails to point to the north pole.

Dor. Yet still my mind gives me, that you have met her disguised to-night, and have not known her.

Pala. This is the most pragmatical conceited little fellow, he will needs understand my business better than myself. I tell thee, once more, thou dost not know my mistress.

Dor. And I tell you once more, that I know her better than you do.

Pala. The boy's resolved to have the last word. I find I must go without reply. [Exit.

Dor. Ah mischief, I have lost him with my fooling. Palamede, Palamede!

He returns. She plucks off her peruke, and puts it on again when he knows her.

Pala. O heavens! is it you, madam?

Dor. Now, where was your good genius, that would prompt you to find me out?

Pala. Why, you see I was not deceived; you yourself were my good genius.

Dor. But where was the steel, that knew the load-stone? Ha?

Pala. The truth is, madam, the steel has lost its virtue: and, therefore, if you please, we'll new touch it.

Enter Rhodophil; and Melantha in Boys habit. Rhodophil sees Palamede kissing Doralice's hand.

Rho. Palamede again! am I fallen into your quarters? What? Engaging with a boy? Is all honourable?

Pala. O, very honourable on my side. I was just chastising this young villain; he was running away, without paying his share of the reckoning.

Rho. Then I find I was deceived in him.

Pala. Yes, you are deceived in him: 'tis the archest rogue, if you did but know him.

Mel. Good Rhodophil, let us get off a-la derobbée, for fear I should be discovered.

Rho. There's no retiring now; I warrant you for discovery. Now have I the oddest thought, to entertain you before your servant's face, and he never the wiser; it will be the prettiest juggling trick, to cheat him when he looks upon us.

Mel. This is the strangest caprice in you.

Pala. [to Doralice.] This Rhodophil's the unluckiest fellow to me! this is now the second time he has barred the dice when we were just ready to have nicked him; but if ever I get the box again—

Dor. Do you think he will not know me? Am I like myself?

Pala. No more than a picture in the hangings.

Dor. Nay, then he can never discover me, now the wrong side of the arras is turned towards him.

Pala. At least, it will be some pleasure to me, to enjoy what freedom I can while he looks on; I will storm the out-works of matrimony even before his face.

Rho. What wine have you there, Palamede?

Pala. Old Chios, or the rogue's damn'd that drew it.

Rho. Come,—to the most constant of mistresses! that, I believe, is yours, Palamede.

Dor. Pray spare your seconds; for my part I am but a weak brother.

Pala. Now,—to the truest of turtles! that is your wife, Rhodophil, that lies sick at home, in the bed of honour.

Rho. Now let us have one common health, and so have done.

Dor. Then, for once, I'll begin it. Here's to him that has the fairest lady of Sicily in masquerade to night.

Pala. This is such an obliging health, I'll kiss thee, dear rogue, for thy invention.
[Kisses her.

Rho. He, who has this lady, is a happy man, without dispute,—I'm most concerned in this, I am sure.
[Aside.

Pala. Was it not well found out, Rhodophil?

Mel. Ay, this was bien trouvée indeed.

Dor. [to Melantha.] I suppose I shall do you a kindness, to enquire if you have not been in France, sir?

Mel. To do you service, sir.

Dor. O, monsieur, votre valet bien humble. [Saluting her.

Mel. Votre esclave, monsieur, de tout mon cœur. [Returning the salute.

Dor. I suppose, sweet sir, you are the hope and joy of some thriving citizen, who has pinched him self at home, to breed you abroad, where you have learned your exercises, as it appears, most awkwardly, and are returned, with the addition of a new-laced bosom and a clap, to your good old father, who looks at you with his mouth, while you spout French with your man monsieur.

Pala. Let me kiss thee again for that, dear rogue.

Mel. And you, I imagine, are my young master, whom your mother durst not trust upon salt-water, but left you to be your own tutor at fourteen, to be very brisk and entreprenant, to endeavour to be debauched ere you have learned the knack of it, to value yourself upon a clap before you can get it, and to make it the height of your ambition to get a player for your mistress.

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 prisoners 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.

Mel. Impertinent! Oh I am the most unfortunate person this day breathing: That the princess should thus rompre en visiere, without occasion. Let me die, but I'll follow her to death, till I make my peace.

Pala. [Holding her.] And let me die, but I'll follow you to the infernals, till you pity me.

Mel. [Turning towards him angrily.] Ay, 'tis long of you that this malheur is fallen upon me; your impertinence has put me out of the good graces of the princess, and all that, which has ruined me, and all that, and, therefore, let me die, but I'll be revenged, and all that.

Pala. Façon, façon, you must and shall love me, and all that; for my old man is coming up, and all that; and I am desesperé au dernier, and will not be disinherited, and all that.

Mel. How durst you interrupt me so mal apropos, when you knew I was addressing to the princess?

Pala. But why would you address yourself so much a contretemps then?

Mel. Ah, mal peste!

Pala. Ah, j'enrage!

Phil. Radoucissez vous, de grace, madame; vous étes bien en colere pour peu de chose. Vous n'entendez pas la raillerie gallante.