The Works of Aphra Behn Volume I Part 124

_War._ Noo, Sirs, yar Dance? [They fling Cus.h.i.+ons at one another, and grin. Musick plays.] --Marry, Sirs, an this be yar dancing, tol dance and ne'er stir Stap, the Diel lead the Donce for _Archibald_.

[When they have flung Cus.h.i.+ons thus a while to the Musick time, they beat each other from the Table, one by one, and fall into a G.o.dly Dance; after a while, _Wariston_ rises, and dances ridiculously a while amongst them; then to the Time of the Tune, they take out the rest, as at the Cus.h.i.+on-Dance, or in that nature. _Wariston_ being the last taken in, leads the rest.

--Haud, Minstrels, haud; Bread a gued. I's fatch ad Ladies in-- lead away, Minstrels, tol my Lady's Apartment.

[Musick playing before all.

[Exeunt dancing.

SCENE IV. _Flat._

Enter _Page_.

_Page._ _c.o.c.k_, Here must I wait, to give my Lady notice when my Lord approaches;-- The fine Gentleman that is alone with her, gave me these two fine Pieces of Gold, and bad me buy a Sword to fight for the King withal; and I'm resolv'd to lay it all out in a Sword, not a penny in Nickers, and fight for the Heroicks as long as I have a Limb, if they be all such fine Men as this within. But hark, sure I hear some coming.-- [Exit.

[Flat Scene draws off, discovers L. _Lam._ on a Couch, with _Loveless_, tying a rich Diamond-Bracelet about his Arm: a Table behind with Lights, on which a Velvet Cus.h.i.+on, with a Crown and Scepter cover'd.

_Lov._ This Present's too magnificent: such Bracelets young Monarchs shou'd put on.

_L. Lam._ Persons like me, when they make Presents, Sir, must do it for their Glory, not considering the Merit of the Wearer: yet this, my charming _Loveless_, comes short of what I ought to pay thy Worth; comes short too of my Love.

_Lov._ You bless me, Madam--

_L. Lam._ This the great Monarch of the World once ty'd about my Arm, and bad me wear it, till some greater Man shou'd chance to win my Heart; Thou art that Man whom Love has rais'd above him; Whom every Grace and every Charm thou hast Conspire to make thee mightier to my Soul; And _Oliver_, ill.u.s.trious _Oliver_, Was yet far short of thee.

_Lov._ He was the Monarch then whose Spoils I triumph in.

_L. Lam._ They were design'd too for Trophies to the young and gay.

Ah, _Loveless_! that I cou'd reward thy Youth With something that might make thee more than Man, As well as to give the best of Women to thee-- [Rises, takes him by the Hand, leads him to the Table. He starts.

--Behold this gay, this wondrous glorious thing.

_Lov._ Hah-- a Crown-- and Scepter!

Have I been all this while So near the sacred Relicks of my King; And found no awful Motion in my Blood, Nothing that mov'd sacred Devotion in me? [Kneels.

--Hail sacred Emblem of great Majesty, Thou that hast circled more Divinity Than the great Zodiack that surrounds the World.

I ne'er was blest with sight of thee till now, But in much reverenc'd Pictures-- [Rises and bows.

_L. Lam._ Is't not a lovely thing?

_Lov._ There's such Divinity i' th' very Form on't, Had I been conscious I'd been near the Temple, Where this bright Relick of the glorious Martyr Had been enshrin'd, 't had spoil'd my soft Devotion.

--'Tis Sacrilege to dally where it is; A rude, a saucy Treason to approach it With an unbended Knee: for Heav'ns sake, Madam, Let us not be profane in our Delights, Either withdraw, or hide that glorious Object.

_L. Lam._ Thou art a Fool, the very sight of this-- Raises my Pleasure higher: Methinks I give a Queen into thy Arms, And where I love I cannot give enough; [Softly.

--Wou'd I cou'd set it on thy Head for ever, 'Twou'd not become my simple Lord The thousandth part so well.

[Goes to put it on his Head, he puts it back.

_Lov._ Forbear, and do not play with holy things; Let us retire, and love as Mortals shou'd, Not imitate the G.o.ds, and spoil our Joys.

_L. Lam._ Lovely, and unambitious!

What hopes have I of all your promis'd Constancy, Whilst this which possibly e'er long may adorn my Brow, And ought to raise me higher in your Love, Ought to transform you even to Adoration, Shall poorly make you vanish from its l.u.s.tre?

Methinks the very Fancy of a Queen Is worth a thousand Mistresses of less ill.u.s.trious Rank.

_Lov._ What, every pageant Queen? you might from thence infer I'd fall in love with every little Actress, because She acts the Queen for half an hour, But then the gaudy Robe is laid aside.

_L. Lam._ I'll pardon the Comparison in you.

_Lov._ I do not doubt your Power of being a Queen, But trust, it will not last.

How truly brave would your great Husband be, If, whilst he may, he paid this mighty Debt To the right Owner!

If, whilst he has the Army in his Power, He made a true and lawful use of it, To settle our great Master in his Throne; And by an Act so glorious raise his Name Even above the t.i.tle of a King.

_L. Lam._ You love me not, that would persuade me from My Glory.

Enter _Gilliflower_.

_Gill._ Oh, Madam, the Lords are all got merry, as they call it, and are all dancing hither.

_L. Lam._ What, at their _Oliverian_ Frolicks?-- Dear _Loveless_, withdraw, I wou'd not give the fond believing Fool a Jealousy of me.

_Gill._ Withdraw, Madam? 'tis impossible, he must run just into their Mouths.

_L. Lam._ I'm ill at these Intrigues, being us'd to Lovers that still came with such Authority, that modestly my Husband wou'd withdraw-- but Loveless is in danger, therefore take care he be not seen.

_Gill._ Heav'ns! they are coming, there's no Retreat--

_L. Lam._ Lie down on the Couch-- and cover him you with the Foot-Carpet-- So, give me my Prayer-Book.

[He lies down along on the Couch, they cover him with the Carpet: L. _Lam._ takes her Book, sits down on his Feet, and leans on the Back of the Couch reading; _Gill._ stands at t'other end, they enter dancing as before.

--What Insolence is this? do you not hear me, you-- Sots-- whom Gaiety and Dancing do so ill become.

_War._ [Singing.] Welcome, _Joan Sanderson_, welcome, welcome.

[Goes to take her out, she strikes him.

Wons, Madam, that's no part o' th' Dance.

_L. Lam._ No, but 'tis part of a reward for your Insolence, Which possibly your Head shall answer for--

_Lam._ Pardon him, my Dear, he meant no Disrespect to thee.

_L. Lam._ How dare you interrupt my Devotion, Sirrah? Be gone with all your filthy ill-bred Crew.

[_Lam._ sits down on _Lov._

_Lam._ My only Dear, be patient; hah!-- Something moves under me; Treason, Treason!

[He rises.

[_Lov._ rolls off, and turns _Lam._ over, the rest of the Men run out crying Treason, Treason, overthrowing the Lights, putting 'em out.

_L. Lam._ Treason, Treason! my Lord, my Lord!