Of your dear mother, by the joys you hope
In blessed marriage, by the fortunate issue
Stored in your womb, by these and all things else
That you can style with goodness; instantly,
Without evasion, trick, or circumstance,
Nay, least premeditation answer me,
Affect you me, or no?
Pet. How speak you that?
Mont. Without demur
Pet. Give me but time
To sleep upon 't.
Mont. I pardon you no minute; not so much,
As to apparel the least phrase you speak.
Speak in the shortest sentence.
Pet. You have vanquish'd me,
At mine own weapon: noble sir,
I love you:
And what my heart durst never tell my tongue,
Lest it should blab my thoughts, at last I speak,
And iterate; I love you.
What wilt thou feel me still? art thou not weary
Of making me thy May-game, to possess me
Of such a treasure's mighty magazine,
Not suffer me to enjoy it; ta'en with this hand,
With that to give 't another?
Be so no more: if you have been dejected,
It lies in me to mount you to that height
You could not aim at greater. I am yours.
These lips, that only witness it in air,
Now with this truth confirm it.
Mont. I was born to 't;
And it shall out at once.
Pet. Sir, you seem passionate;
As if my answer pleased not.
Mont. Now my death;
For mine own tongue must kill me: noble lady,
You have endear'd me to you, but my vow
Was, ne'er to match with any, of what state
Or birth soever, till before the contract
Some one thing I impose her.
Mont. Or, if she fail me in my first demand,
I to abjure her ever.
That beg to be employ'd so: name a danger,
Whose very face would fright all womanhood,
And manhood put in trance, nay, whose aspect
Would ague such as should but hear it told;
But to the sad beholder, prove like those
That gazed upon Medusa's snaky locks,
And turn'd them into marble: these and more,
Should you but speak 't, I'd do.
Mont. And swear to this?
Pet. I vow it by my honour, my best hopes,
And all that I wish gracious: name it then,
For I am in a longing in my soul,
To show my love's expression.
Mont. You shall then
Pet. I'll do it, as I am a virgin:
Lie it within mortality, I'll do it.
Mont. You shall-
Pet. I will: that which appears in you
So terrible to speak, I'll joy to act;
And take pride in performance.
Mont. Then you shall
Pet. What, soldier, what?
And at his soonest appointment marry him. Pet. Then I am lost.
Miracle of Beauty.
I remember1,
There lived a Spanish princess of our name,
An Isabella too, and not long since,
Who from her palace windows steadfastly
Gazing upon the sun, her hair took fire.
Some augurs held it as a prodigy :
I rather think she was Latona's brood,
And that Apollo courted her bright hair;
Else, envying that her tresses put down his,
1 A proud Spanish princess relates this.
He scorch'd them off in envy: nor dare I
(From her derived) expose me to his beams;
Lest, as he burns the phoenix in her nest,
Made of the sweetest aromatic wood,
Either in love, or envy, he agree
To use the like combustion upon me.
THE ROYAL KING AND THE LOYAL SUBJECT.
BY THOMAS HEYWOOD,
Noble Traitor.
A Persian history
I read of late, how the great Sophy once
Flying a noble falcon at the herne,
In comes by chance an eagle sousing by:
Which when the hawk espies, leaves her first game,
And boldly ventures on the king of birds;
Long tugg'd they in the air, till at the length
The falcon (better breathed) seized on the eagle,
And struck it dead. The barons praised the bird,
And for her courage she was peerless held.
The emperor, after some deliberate thoughts,
Made her no less; he caused a crown of gold
To be new framed, and fitted to her head,
In honour of her courage: then the bird,
With great applause, was to the market-place
In triumph borne; where, when her utmost worth
Had been proclaim'd, the common executioner
First by the king's command took off her crown,
And after with a sword struck off her head,
As one no better than a noble traitor
Unto the king of birds.
A WOMAN KILLED WITH KINDNESS: A TRAGEDY, BY THOMAS HEYWOOD.
Mr. Frankford discovers that his Wife has been unfaithful to him Mrs. Fra. O, by what words, what title, or what name Shall I entreat your pardon? Pardon! O!
I am as far from hoping such sweet grace,
As Lucifer from heaven. To call you husband!
(O me most wretched!) I have lost that name:
I am no more your wife.
Fran. Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee;
And keep thy countenance, for I'll blush for thee.
Now, I protest, I think, 'tis I am tainted,
For I am most ashamed; and 'tis more hard
For me to look upon thy guilty face,
Than on the sun's clear brow: what wouldst thou speak
Mrs. Fra. I would I had no tongue, no ears, no eyes,
No apprehension, no capacity.
When do you spurn me like a dog? when tread me
Under feet? when drag me by the hair?
Though I deserve a thousand thousand fold
More than you can inflict: yet, once my husband,
For womanhood, to which I am a shame,
Though once an ornament; even for his sake,
That hath redeem'd our souls, mark not my face,
Nor hack me with your sword: but let me go
Perfect and undeformed to my tomb.
I am not worthy that I should prevail
In the least suit; no, not to speak to you,
Nor look on you, nor to be in your presence:
Yet as an abject this one suit I crave;
This granted, I am ready for my grave.
Fran. My God,. with patience arm me! rise, nay, rise,
And I'll debate with thee. Was it for want
Thou play'dst the strumpet? Wast thou not supplie
With every pleasure, fashion, and new toy;
Nay, even beyond my calling?
Fran. Was it then disability in me?
Or in thine eye seem'd he a properer man?
Fran Did not I lodge thee in my bosom?
Wear thee in my heart?
Fran. I did indeed, witness my tears I did.
Go bring my infants hither. O Nan, O Nan;
If neither fear of shame, regard of honour,
The blemish of my house, nor my dear love,
Could have withheld thee from so lewd a fact,
Yet for these infants, these young harmless souls,
On whose white brows thy shame is character'd,
And grows in greatness as they wax in years;
Look but on them, and melt away in tears.
Away with them; lest as her spotted body
Hath stain'd their names with stripe of bastardy,
So her adulterous breath may blast their spirits
With her infectious thoughts. Away with them.
Mrs. Fra. In this one life I die ten thousand deaths.
Fran. Stand up, stand up, I will do nothing rashly.
I will retire awhile into my study,
And thou shalt hear thy sentence presently.
He returns with Cranwell his friend. She falls on her knees.
Fran. My words are register'd in heaven already.
With patience hear me. I'll not martyr thee,
Nor mark thee for a strumpet; but with usage
Of more humility torment thy soul,
And kill thee even with kindness.
Cran. Mr. Frankford.
Fran. Good Mr. Cranwell.-Woman, hear thy judgment;
Go make thee ready in thy best attire;
Take with thee all thy gowns, all thy apparel:
Leave nothing that did ever call thee mistress,
Or by whose sight, being left here in the house,
I remember such a woman was.
Choose thee a bed and hangings for thy chamber ;
Take with thee everything which hath thy mark,
And get thee to my manor seven miles off;
Where live; 'tis thine, I freely give it thee:
My tenants by shall furnish thee with wains
To carry
all thy stuff within two hours;
No longer will I limit thee
Choose which of all my servants thou likest best,
And they are thine to attend thee.
Mrs. Fra. A mild sentence.
Fran. But as thou hopest for heaven, as thou believest
Thy name's recorded in the book of life,
I charge thee never after this sad day
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