A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 4

LUCRECE. Since when the princess hath entomb'd her lord, Her late deceased husband of renown; Brother, I see, and very well perceive, She hath not clos'd together in his grave All sparks of nature, kindness, nor of love: But as she lives, so living may she feel Such pa.s.sions as our tender hearts oppress, Subject unto th'impressions of desire: For well I wot my niece was never wrought Of steel, nor carved from the stony rock: Such stern hardness we ought not to expect In her, whose princely heart and springing years Yet flow'ring in the chiefest heat of youth, Is led of force to feed on such conceits, As easily befalls that age, which asketh ruth Of them, whom nature bindeth by foresight Of their grave years and careful love to reach The things that are above their feeble force: And for that cause, dread lord, although--

TANCRED. Sister, I say, If you esteem or ought respect my life, Her honour and the welfare of our house, Forbear, and wade[55] no farther in this speech.

Your words are wounds. I very well perceive The purpose of this smooth oration: This I suspected, when you first began This fair discourse with us. Is this the end Of all our hopes, that we have promised Unto ourself by this her widowhood?

Would our dear daughter, would our only joy, Would she forsake us? would she leave us now, Before she hath clos'd up our dying eyes, And with her tears bewail'd our funeral?

No other solace doth her father crave; But, whilst the fates maintain his dying life, Her healthful presence gladsome to his soul, Which rather than he willing would forego, His heart desires the bitter taste of death.

Her late marriage hath taught us to our grief, That in the fruits of her perpetual sight Consists the only comfort and relief Of our unwieldy age: for what delight, What joy, what comfort, have we in this world; Now grown in years, and overworn with cares, Subject unto the sudden stroke of death, Already falling, like the mellowed fruit, And dropping by degrees into our grave?

But what revives us, what maintains our soul Within the prison of our wither'd breast, But our Gismunda and her cheerful sight?

O daughter, daughter! what desert of mine, Wherein have I been so unkind to thee, Thou shouldst desire to make my naked house Yet once again stand desolate by thee?

O, let such fancies vanish with their thoughts: Tell her I am her father, whose estate, Wealth, honour, life, and all that we possess, Wholly relies upon her presence here.

Tell her, I must account her all my joy, Work as she will: but yet she were unjust To haste his death, that liveth by her sight.

LUCRECE. Her gentle heart abhors such ruthless thoughts.

TANCRED. Then let her not give place to these desires.

LUCRECE. She craves the right that nature challengeth.

TANCRED. Tell her, the king commandeth otherwise.

LUCRECE. The king's commandment always should be just.

TANCRED. Whate'er it be, the king's command is just.

LUCRECE. Just to command: but justly must he charge.

TANCRED. He chargeth justly that commands as king.

LUCRECE. The king's command concerns the body best.

TANCRED. The king commands obedience of the mind.

LUCRECE. That is exempted by the law of kind.

TANCRED. That law of kind[56] to children doth belong.

LUCRECE. In due obedience to their open wrong?

TANCRED. I then, as king and father, will command.

LUCRECE. No more than may with right of reason stand.

TANCRED. Thou knowest our mind, resolve[57] her, depart-- Return the chase, we have been chas'd enough.

[TANCRED _returneth into his palace, and leaveth the hunt_.

LUCRECE. He cannot hear, anger hath stopp'd his ears, And over-love his judgment hath decay'd Ah, my poor niece! I shrewdly fear thy cause, Thy just complaint, shall never be reliev'd.

ACT II., SCENE 3.

GISMUNDA _cometh alone out of her chamber_.

GISMUNDA. By this I hope my aunt hath mov'd the king, And knows his mind, and makes return to me To end at once all this perplexity.

Lo, where she stands. O, how my trembling heart In doubtful thoughts panteth within my breast.

For in her message doth rely my smart, Or the sweet quiet of my troubled mind.

LUCRECE. Niece, on the point you lately willed me To treat of with the king on your behalf, I brake even now with him so far, till he In sudden rage of grief, ere I scarce had My tale out-told, pray'd me to stint my suit, As that from which his mind abhorred most.

And well I see his fancy to refute, Is but displeasure gain'd and labour lost.

So firmly fixed stands his kingly will That, till his body shall be laid in grave, He will not part from the desired sight Of your presence, which silder he should have, If he had once allied you again In marriage to any prince or peer-- This is his final resolution.

GISMUNDA. A resolution that resolves my blood Into the icy drops of Lethe's flood.

LUCRECE. Therefore my counsel is, you shall not stir, Nor farther wade in such a case as this: But since his will is grounded on your love, And that it lies in you to save or spill His old forewasted age, you ought t'eschew The thing that grieves so much his crazed heart, And in the state you stand content yourself: And let this thought appease your troubled mind, That in your hands relies your father's death Or blissful life; and since without your sight He cannot live, nor can his thoughts endure Your hope of marriage, you must then relent, And overrule these fond affections; Lest it be said you wrought your father's end.

GISMUNDA. Dear aunt, I have with patient ears endur'd The hearing of my father's hard behest; And since I see that neither I myself, Nor your request, can so prevail with him, Nor any sage advice persuade his mind To grant me my desire, in willing wise I must submit me unto his command, And frame my heart to serve his majesty.

And (as I may) to drive away the thoughts That diversely distract my pa.s.sions, Which as I can, I'll labour to subdue, But sore I fear I shall but toil in vain, Wherein, good aunt, I must desire your pain.

LUCRECE. What lies in me by comfort or advice, I shall discharge with all humility.

[GISMUNDA _and_ LUCRECE _depart into_ GISMUNDA'S _chamber_.

CHORUS 1. Who marks our former times and present years, What we are now, and looks what we have been, He cannot but lament with bitter tears The great decay and change of all women.

For as the world wore on, and waxed old, So virtue quail'd,[58] and vice began to grow.

So that that age, that whilome was of gold, Is worse than bra.s.s, more vile than iron now.

The times were such (that if we aught believe Of elder days), women examples were Of rare virtues: Lucrece disdain'd to live Longer than chaste; and boldly without fear Took sharp revenge on her enforced heart With her own hands: for that it not withstood The wanton will, but yielded to the force Of proud Tarquin, who bought her fame with blood.

CHORUS 2. Queen Artemisia thought an heap of stones (Although they were the wonder of that age) A worthless grave, wherein to rest the bones Of her dear lord, but with bold courage She drank his heart, and made her lovely breast His tomb, and failed not of wifely faith, Of promis'd love and of her bound behest, Until she ended had her days by death.

Ulysses' wife (such was her steadfastness) Abode his slow return whole twenty years: And spent her youthful days in pensiveness, Bathing her widow's bed with brinish tears.[59]

CHORUS 3. The stout daughter of Cato, Brutus' wife, Portia, When she had heard his death, did not desire Longer to live: and lacking use of knife (A most strange thing) ended her life by fire, And ate whot-burning coals. O worthy dame!

O virtues worthy of eternal praise!

The flood of Lethe cannot wash out thy fame, To others' great reproach, shame, and dispraise.

CHORUS 4. Rare are those virtues now in women's mind!

Where shall we seek such jewels pa.s.sing strange?

Scarce can you now among a thousand find One woman stedfast: all delight in change.

Mark but this princess, that lamented here Of late so sore her n.o.ble husband's death, And thought to live alone without a pheer; Behold how soon she changed hath that breath!

I think those ladies that have lived 'tofore, A mirror and a gla.s.s to womenkind; By those their virtues they did set such store, That unto us they none bequeath'd behind; Else in so many years we might have seen As virtuous as ever they have been.

CHORUS 1. Yet let not us maidens condemn our kind, Because our virtues are not all so rare: For we may freshly yet record in mind, There lives a virgin,[60] one without compare, Who of all graces hath her heavenly share; In whose renown, and for whose happy days, Let us record this paean of her praise.

_Cantant_.

FINIS ACTUS II. _Per_ HEN. NO.[61]