A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xiv Part 12

PHIL. O, 'tis an age, I'd rather have it said, Philippa than a prisoner were dead.

[_Exit._

_Enter a Criminal Judge and Officers, with_ ANTONIO; PETRUCHIO _and_ AURELIA _meet him, with Servants_.

JUD. Captain Petruchio, take this condemn'd man Into your charge; it is Antonio, once A Spanish count, till his rash folly with His life made forfeit of his honour; he Was found travelling to your castle; 'Twas Heaven's will that his own feet should with A willing pace conduct him to his ruin: For the murther he must be ground to death In Filford Mill, of which you are the governor: Here my commission in its end gives strength To yours. He is your charge: farewell.

His death must be with speed.

[_Exit with his._[29]

ANT. Deceive me not, good gla.s.ses, [for] your lights In my esteem never till now was precious, It is the same, it is the very same I sleeping saw.

AUR. Is this the man fame speaks so n.o.bly of?

O love, Aurelia never until now Could say he knew thee; I must dissemble it.

[_Aside._

PET. Come, sir, to my castle.

AUR. Fie on you, sir; to kill a governor, it is a fact death cannot appear too horrible to punish.

ANT. Can this be truth? O shallow, shallow man, To credit air! believe there can be substance in A cloud of thick'ned smoke, as truth Hid in a dream; yes, there is truth that, like A scroll fetch'd from an oracle, Betrays the double-dealing of the G.o.ds; Dreams, that speak all of joy, do turn to grief, And such bad fate deludes my light belief.

PET. Away with him.

[_Exeunt._

AURELIA _sola_.

AUR. Oft have I heard my brother with a tongue Proud of the office, praise this lovely lord; And my trapp'd soul did with as eager haste Draw in the breath; and now, O Aurelia!

Buried with him must all the joy thou hast For ever sleep; and with a pale consumption, Pitying him wilt thou thyself be ruin'd?

He must not die; if there be any way Reveal'd to the distressed, I will find it.

a.s.sist a poor lost virgin, some good power, And lead her to a path, whose secret tract May guide both him and me unto our safety.

Be kind, good wits, I never until now Put you to any trouble; 'tis your office To help at need this little world you live by: Not yet! O dulness! do not make me mad-- I have't, bless'd brains! now shall a woman's wit Wrestle with fate, and if my plot but hit, Come off with wreaths: my duty, nay, my all, I must forsake, lest my Antonio fall.

[_Exit._

ACT IV., SCENE 1.

_Enter_ GIOVANNO _mad, solus_.

Not find Evadne! sure, some wanton wind Has s.n.a.t.c.h'd her from the earth into the air!

Smooth Zephyr fans the tresses of her hair, Whilst slick[30] Favonius plays the fawning slave, And hourly dies, making her b.r.e.a.s.t.s his grave.

O false Evadne! is Giovanno's love, That has outdone all merit for thy sake, So light that wind outweighs it?

No, no, [no,] no; Evadne is all virtue, Sweet as the breath of roses; and as chaste As virgin lilies in their infancy.

Down, you deluding ministers of air, Evadne is not light, though she be fair.

Dissolve that counterfeit: ha, ha, ha, ha!

See how they shrink! why so, now I will love you: Go search into the hollows of the earth, And find my love, or I will chain you up To eternity: see, see, who's this?

O, I know him now. So, ho, ho! so, ho, ho!

Not hear? 'Tis Phaeton: no, 'tis an heir Got, since his father's death, into a cloak Of gold outs.h.i.+nes the sun; the headstrong horses of Licentious youth have broke their reins, and drawn Him through the signs of all libidinousness.

See, from the whorish front of Capreae He's tumbling down as low as beggary.

O, are you come, grim Tartar Rhadamanth!

Go, ask of Pluto, if he have not ta'en Evadne to his smoky commonwealth, And ravish'd her? Begone, why stir you not?

Ha, ha, ha! the devil is afraid.

EVAD. Help, a rape!

[_Within._

BAN. Stop her mouth.

GIO. Who calls for help? 'tis my Evadne; ay, It was her voice that gave the echo life, That cried a rape. Devil, dost love a wench?

Who was thy pander, ha? What saucy fiend Durst lay his unpar'd fangs on my Evadne?

Come, I'll swim unarmed o'er Acheron, And sink grim Charon in his ferry boat.

EVAD. Murder! a rape!

[_Within._

GIO. I come, I come.

[_Exit._

_Enter the_ BANDIT _dragging_ EVADNE _by the hair: she drops a scarf_. _Exeunt._

_Enter_ GIOVANNO _again_.

GIO. I cannot find her yet. The king of flames Protests she is not there: but hang him, rogue, They say he'll lie. O, how my glutted spleen Tickles to think how I have paid the slave!

I made him lead me into every hole: Ha, ha, ha! what crying was there there?

Here on a wheel, turn'd by a fury's hand, Hangs a distracted statesman, that had spent The little wit Heaven to strange purpose lent him To suppress right, make beggars, and get means To be a traitor. Ha, ha, ha! And here A usurer, fat with the curses of so many heirs His extortion had undone, sat to the chin In a warm bath, made of new-melted gold; And now and then a draught pa.s.s'd through his throat.

He fed upon his G.o.d; but he being angry Scalded his chaps. Right against him Stood a fool'd gallant, chain'd unto a post, And lash'd by folly for his want of wit.

The reeling drunkard and plump glutton stood Making of faces, close by Tantalus: But drank and fed on air. The wh.o.r.emaster, Tied to a painted punk, was by a fury, Termed insatiate l.u.s.t, whipped with a blade Of fire. And here---- What's here? 'tis my Evadne's veil; 'tis hers, I know't: Some slave has ravish'd my Evadne! Well, There breathes not such an impious slave in h.e.l.l.

Nay, it is hers, I know it too-too plain.

Your breath is lost: 'tis hers: you speak in vain.

[_Exit._

_Thunder and lightning._ _Enter the_ BANDIT, _with_ EVADNE _by the hair_.

CAPT. Come, bring her forward; tie her to that tree, each man shall have his turn: come, minion, you must [now] squench the raging flames of my concupiscence: what, do you weep, you puritanical punk? I shall tickle mirth into you by and by.

Trotter, good Trotter, post unto my cell, make compound of muskadine and eggs; for the truth is I am a giant in my promises, but in the act a pigmy: I am old, and cannot do as I have done; good Trotter, make all convenient speed.

TROT. Faith, master, if you cannot, here's them that can ferret in a coney-burrow without a provocative; I'll warrant you, good master.