Eug. Fie! how unmanly's this? Can sounds affright you,
Which yet you know not whether they do bring
Or joys or sorrows? When remedies are despair'd of,
You have still leave to die. Perhaps she lives,
And you'll exhale her soul into your wounds,
And be the death of her you mourn for living.
Within. Where's Prince Lysicles? Where's Prince Lysicles?
Eug. It is the voice of comfort; none would strive
To be a sad relator. I'll call him. Holla!
Here he is.
Enter a Servant.
Ser. The strange lady kisses
Your hands, my lord: Arnaldo has restored her;
She bid me say your sight can only give
Perfection to what he has begun.
Eug. Will you die now?
Lys. Softly, good friend: gently let it
Slide into my breast; my heart is too narrow yet
To take so full a joy in.
You're sure this news is true?
Ser. Upon my life.
Eug. Why should you doubt it?
Lys. My comforts ever were like winter suns,
That rise late and [then] set betimes: set with thick clouds
That hide their light at noon. But be this true,
And I have life enough to let me see it,
I shall be ever happy.
Eug. So, 'tis well;
At length his hope hath taught despair to fear. [Exeunt.
Enter Milesia, Hermione, Irene, Physician.
Phy. Madam, my innocence will plead my pardon;
I could not guess for whom my lord intended
it. The truth is I feared, considering his deep
melancholy, he intended to use it on himself, and
therefore meant to make him out of love with
death, by suffering the pains our souls do feel when
they are violenced from us. I had provided antidotes,
but could not till this hour learn on whom
it was employed. Sure I was, it could be death
to none, though full of torment.
Mil. Till I have farther means to thank you,
receive this ring.
Her. But, madam, what did poor[365] Hermione deserve,
That you should hide yourself from her?
Or are you the Milesia that was pleas'd
To call me friend? or is she buried
By Pallas' temple? Truly, belief and memory,
Opposing sense, makes me doubt which to credit.
I wept you dead, the virgins did entomb you:
Were we then or no deceiv'd?
Mil. My fair dear friend, you shall know all my story.
'Tis true, my uncle did design my death
For loving Lysicles; for, at his coming hither,
He charg'd me, by all ties that were between us,
To hate him as the ruin of his honour;
And yet, for some dark ends I understood not,
Resolv'd to leave me here. I swore obedience,
But knew not what offence it was to keep
An oath so made, till I had seen Lysicles,
Which at your house I did, when he came wounded
From hunting of the boar. All but his name
Appear'd most godlike to me. You all did run
To stop his wounds, and I thought I might see
My enemy's blood; yet soon did pity seize me,
To see him bleed. Thus, love taking the shape
Of pity, glided unseen of me into my heart,
And whilst I thought myself but charitable,
I nurs'd my infant love with milk of pity,
Till he grew strong enough to take me prisoner.
I found his eyes on mine, and ere I could
Remove them, heard him say, he'd thank his fortune
For this last wound, if 'twere the cause
Of seeing me; then took his leave,
But left me speechless that I could not say,
My heart, farewell! After this visit our loves
Grew to that height that you have heard of.
Her. The groves and temples, and dark shades have heard
Them mourn'd and celebrated by your friend.
Mil. I had a servant unsuspected of me,
(For none I trusted that observ'd our meetings,)
Who[366] guessing by my sighs that love had made them,
Betray'd them to my uncle. On Pallas' eve
He rush'd into my chamber, his sword drawn,
And snatch'd me by the arm. I fell down,
But, knowing yet no fault, could beg no pardon.
Awhile our eyes did only speak our thoughts;
At length out of his bosom he pull'd a paper:
It was the contract betwixt my lord and me;
And ask'd me if I would avow the hand.
Heaven, said I, has approv'd it, and the gods
Have chose this way to reunite our houses.
Stain of thy kindred's honour, he exclaims,
Was there no other man to ease your lust
But he that was our greatest enemy?
Resolve to die: thy blood shall hide the stains.
Of our dishonour.
Her. He could not be so cruel to intend it?
Mil. He was; for leaving me oppress'd with sighs
And tears, yet not of sorrow and repentance,
But fear that I should leave my dearest servant,
Commands his cruel slaves to murder me
As I descended; and lest pity should
Create remorse, in their obdurate hearts,
The lights were all put out. Then hastily
My name was heard. I then entreated her
That betray'd me to tell them I was coming,
And took this time to write unto my lord.
She went, but by the way was seiz'd
And strangled by those murderers
That expected me. My uncle heard
Her latest groans; and now the act was pass'd
His power to help, he wish'd it were undone:
Brings lights to see the body, and perceiv'd
The strange mistake. By signs and lifted eyes
Confess'd heaven's hand was in't; yet would not leave
His revenge here—commands his slaves to change
My clothes with hers was slain; then takes the head off,
And on the trunk did leave a note which told
My death for loving Lysicles, in hope my ruin,
Knowing his noble nature, would be his.
At midnight quits this town, leaving none behind
Were conscious of the fact—immures me in
His house; till I escap'd in that disguise
I wore when I first came to you.
Ire. Why did
You not declare yourself when you came hither?
Mil. You were the cause on't. At my arrival here
I heard my Lysicles should marry you,
And therefore kept the habit I was in,
To search unknown the truth of this report,
And practis'd in the private actions
Of some near friends, got an opinion
I could presage the future. Thus was I
Sought by you, thus [I] found the faith
Of my dear Lysicles, when at the tomb I did
Appear his ghost, and had reveal'd myself, had not
The shame of doubting such a faith kept my desires in.
Her. Then he dissembled when he made love to me?
Mil. He did. Forgive it him; 'twas for his friend.
Her. I am sorry for it.
Mil. How, my dear friend?
Enter Lysicles and Eugenio.
Her. Nay, it is true.
Eugenio and he are of such equal
Tempers I shall suspect he has dissembled too.
Mil. O, you are pleasant!
Here comes my lord.
Lys. Is there a wish beyond this happiness,
When I embrace thee thus? I will not ask
Thy story now: it is enough to know
That you are living.
Mil. The gods have made this trial in my sufferings,
If I deserv'd so great a blessing:
I have but one grief left.
Lys. Is that word yet on earth?
Mil. Yes, but it springs from an excessive joy
Of finding such admired worth in you.
What I hereafter shall do in your service
Must wear the name of gratitude, not love.
Lys. No, my Milesia,
Mine was the first engagement, and the gods
Made thee so excellent to keep on earth
Love that was flying hence, finding no object
Worthy to fix him here.
Her. No more, Eugenio: if your words could add
Expressions to your love, you had not had
So much of mine; and after I have tried
Your faith so many ways, it would appear
Ingratitude, not modesty, to show
A mistress' coldness.
Eug. May I believe all advantageous words,
Or may I doubt them, seeing they come from you,
Who are all truth? I will not speak
How undeserving I am of these favours,
Because I will not wrong th' election
Your gracious pity forceth on your judgment.
Lys. Our joys do multiply; but, my dear friend,
I have yet something that will add to yours.
My father's call'd to court, and you are left
Governor in his place; this, I know, will make
Lord Pindarus consent to both your wishes.
Your pardon, madam, and when you lie embrac'd
With your Eugenio, tell him, if my faith
Had not the double tie of friend and mistress,
A single one had yielded to the hopes
Of the enjoying you. Here comes my lord!
Enter Pindarus.
O my good lord, I must entreat your pardon
For a fault my love unto my friend engag'd me in:
Let your consent complete the happiness
Of these two perfect lovers; I am confident
You ever did approve his virtue: his fortune now
Can be no hindrance, since our gracious king,
In contemplation of his merits,
Hath made him governor in my father's place.
Pin. Most willingly I give it, since I've lost the
Hopes of being allied to you: heaven bless you both!
Sir, your own love of my Hermione,
And yours now, will teach you t' admit
An easy satisfaction for the troubles
My love unto my child hath thrown upon you.
Eug. You are all goodness, and my services,
Ever directed by your will, shall show,
Though I can never merit this great honour,
I will do nothing shall deprive me of
The honour of your love and favour.
Pin. Your virtue promiseth more than I may hear
From you. Once more, heaven bless you!
If my Lord Ergasto now were satisfied,
I shall be at peace; for, having promised
My daughter to him, I would not have him
Think that by me he's injur'd.
Her. 'Tis in your power, sir, to satisfy him.
Pin. I would do anything.
Her. Persuade my cousin to confess she loves him,
Which I do know she does; and he already
Has made profession of his unto my prejudice:
Nay, blush not, cousin, since you would not allow me
This secret as a friend, you may excuse
Th' inquisitiveness of a rival.
Mil. This is all truth, my lord, I can assure you.
Pin. Is't possible, Irene, do you love Ergasto?
Ire. Methinks your experience, uncle, should teach you
That such a question was not to be ask'd.
Well, if I did love[367] him, 'twas 'cause I thought
That he lov'd me; but if he does not,
I pardon him: for I am certain he
Once believ'd it himself.
Pin. If ever love
Make any deep impression in you,
I am deceiv'd.
Ire. His dart may strike as far into me
As into another, for aught you know, uncle.
Pin. You have ill-luck else, niece.
Enter Phormio, Ergasto, Cleon.
Phor. Nay, it is most certain, the town is full of it:
Milesia, I know not how, is alive again:
Eugenio is made governor; though you were constant,
You can have no longer hopes of Hermione:
Therefore let me advise you, make that seem
Your own election which'll else be enforcement:
Quit your interest in Hermione, and renew
Your suit to Irene.
Erg. Observe me.
Pin. Welcome, my lords, do you know this lady?
Erg. Most perfectly, and came to congratulate
With the prince for her double recovery.
Lys. I thank you, my lord; and when my friend and you
Are reconcil'd, you may assure yourself
I am your servant.
Erg. What's in my power to give him satisfaction,
He may command.
Eug. Your friendship does it.
Pin. My lord, this reconcilement will make way
Unto my pardon: I have not been wanting
In my promise to you; but my daughter thinks she
Has chosen so well that, without my leave,
She hath made herself her own disposer.
Erg. Ages of happiness attend them! If I may
hope to gain the graces of the fair Irene, I shall
be happy too.
Pin. If I have any power, she shall be yours.
Lys. Let me beg the honour of interceding;
your fortunes and conditions are so equal, it were
a sin to part you.
Phor. Pray, sir, let him do it himself: the task
is not so hard to require a mediator.
Ire. Have you such skill in perspective?
Phor. As good as any chiromancer in Egypt, madam.
Erg. He has reason, for I have opened my breast
to him, and he has seen my heart, and you enthroned
in't.
Phor. He tells you true, lady.
Ire. Indeed, sir! And pray, what did it look like?
Phor. Faith, to deal truly, much like the wheel
of fortune which, turning round, puts the same
persons sometimes at top, sometimes at bottom:
but at last love shot his dart thorough the axle-tree,
and fixed you regent.
Ire. Well, I have considered, and my cousin's
example shall teach me.
Erg. What, in the name of doubt?
Ire. To avoid the infinite troubles you procured
her by your fruitless solicitations. D'ye think
your tears shall cost me so many tears as they have
done her?
Pin. You may excuse them by consenting to
your friend's desires.
Mil. Sweet madam, let me obtain this for him.
He dies if you deny him.
Her. Dear Irene, perfect the happiness of this
day.
Ire. You have great reason to persuade me to
take him you abhorred.
Her. I was engaged.
Ire. Well, if any here will pass their words he
can continue constant a week, I will be disposed
by you.
Omnes. We all will be engaged for him.
Ire. On this condition I admit him to a month's
service, and myself to a perpetual servitude.
Erg. I ever shall be yours.
Ire. My father said so, till my mother wept.[368]
Eug. A notable wooing this!
Lys. And as notably finish'd.
Let's now unto my father, who expects
You, to deliver his commission to you.
Come, my Milesia, tell my wounded heart
No more her sighs shall wander through the air,
Not knowing where to find thee: no more
Shall the mistaken tomb of false [OE]none
Be moist'ned with my tears; yet, since she died
To save thy life, her ghost could not expect
A cheaper sacrifice. This I'll only add:
In memory of us, all lovers shall
Repute this day as their great festival.
FINIS.
Transcriber's Notes:
Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were corrected.
Punctuation normalized.
Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.
Table of Contents added by transcriber.