EVAD. You hear right:
I sooner will find out the beds of snakes,
And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh,
Letting them curl themselves about my limbs,
Than sleep one night with thee. This is not feigned,
Nor sounds it like the coyness of a bride.
AMIN. Is flesh so earthly to endure all this?
Are these the joys of marriage?—Hymen, keep
This story (that will make succeeding youth
Neglect thy ceremonies) from all ears;
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine
To after-ages: we will scorn thy laws,
If thou no better bless them. Touch the heart
Of her that thou hast sent me, or the world
Shall know this: not an altar then will smoke
In praise of thee; we will adopt us sons;
Then virtue shall inherit, and not blood.
If we do lust, we’ll take the next we meet,
Serving ourselves as other creatures do;
And never take note of the female more,
Nor of her issue. I do rage in vain;
She can but jest.—O, pardon me, my love!
So dear the thoughts are that I hold of thee,
That I must break forth. Satisfy my fear;
It is a pain, beyond the hand of death,
To be in doubt: confirm it with an oath,
If this be true.
EVAD. Do you invent the form:
Let there be in it all the binding words
Devils and conjurers can put together,
And I will take it. I have sworn before,
And here by all things holy do again,
Never to be acquainted with thy bed!
Is your doubt over now?
AMIN. I know too much; would I had doubted still!
Was ever such a marriage-night as this!
You powers above, if you did ever mean
Man should be used thus, you have thought a way
How he may bear himself, and save his honor:
Instruct me in it; for to my dull eyes
There is no mean, no moderate course to run;
I must live scorned, or be a murderer:
Is there a third? Why is this night so calm?
Why does not heaven speak in thunder to us,
And drown her voice?
EVAD. This rage will do no good.
AMIN. Evadne, hear me. Thou hast ta’en an oath,
But such a rash one, that to keep it were
Worse than to swear it: call it back to thee;
Such vows as that never ascend the heaven;
A tear or two will wash it quite away.
Have mercy on my youth, my hopeful youth,
If thou be pitiful! for, without boast,
This land was proud of me: what lady was there,
That men called fair and virtuous in this isle,
That would have shunned my love? It is in thee
To make me hold this worth.—O, we vain men,
That trust out all our reputation
To rest upon the weak and yielding hand
Of feeble woman! But thou art not stone;
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell
The spirit of love; thy heart cannot be hard.
Come, lead me from the bottom of despair
To all the joys thou hast; I know thou wilt;
And make me careful lest the sudden change
O’ercome my spirits.
EVAD. When I call back this oath,
The pains of hell environ me!
AMIN. I sleep, and am too temperate. Come to bed!
Or by those hairs, which, if thou hadst a soul
Like to thy locks, were threads for kings to wear
About their arms—
EVAD. Why, so perhaps they are.
AMIN. I’ll drag thee to my bed, and make thy tongue
Undo this wicked oath, or on thy flesh
I’ll print a thousand wounds to let out life!
EVAD. I fear thee not: do what thou darest to me!
Every ill-sounding word or threatening look
Thou showest to me will be revenged at full.
AMIN. It will not sure, Evadne?
EVAD. Do not you hazard that.
AMIN. Ha’ ye your champions?
EVAD. Alas, Amintor, think’st thou I forbear
To sleep with thee, because I have put on
A maiden’s strictness? Look upon these cheeks,
And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood
Unapt for such a vow. No; in this heart
There dwells as much desire and as much will
To put that wished act in practise as ever yet
Was known to woman; and they have been shown
Both. But it was the folly of thy youth
To think this beauty, to what hand soe’er
It shall be called, shall stoop23 to any second.
I do enjoy the best, and in that height
Have sworn to stand or die: you guess the man.
AMIN. NO; let me know the man that wrongs me so,
That I may cut his body into motes,
And scatter it before the northern wind.
EVAD. You dare not strike him.
AMIN. DO not wrong me so:
Yes, if his body were a poisonous plant
That it were death to touch, I have a soul
Will throw me on him.
EVAD. Why, ’tis the King.
AMIN. The King!
EVAD. What will you do now?
AMIN. It is not the King!
EVAD. What did he make this match for, dull Amintor?
AMIN. O, thou hast named a word that wipes away
All thoughts revengeful! In that sacred name,
“The King,” there lies a terror: what frail man
Dares lift his hand against it? Let the gods
Speak to him when they please: till when, let us
Suffer and wait.
EVAD. Why should you fill yourself so full of heat,
And haste so to my bed? I am no virgin.
AMIN. What devil put it in thy fancy, then,
To marry me?
EVAD. Alas, I must have one
To father children, and to bear the name
Of husband to me, that my sin may be
More honorable!
AMIN. What strange thing am I!
EVAD. A miserable one; one that myself
Am sorry for.
AMIN. Why, show it then in this:
If thou hast pity, though thy love be none,
Kill me; and all true lovers, that shall live
In after ages crossed in their desires,
Shall bless thy memory, and call thee good,
Because such mercy in thy heart was found,
To rid24 a lingering wretch.
EVAD. I must have one
To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead;
Else, by this night, I would! I pity thee.
AMIN. These strange and sudden injuries have fallen
So thick upon me, that I lose all sense
Of what they are. Methinks, I am not wronged;
Nor is it aught, if from the censuring world
I can but hide it. Reputation,
Thou art a word, no more!—But thou hast shown
An impudence so high, that to the world
I fear thou wilt betray or shame thyself.
EVAD. To cover shame, I took thee; never fear
That I would blaze25 myself.
AMIN. Nor let the King
Know I conceive he wrongs me; then mine honor
Will thrust me into action: that my flesh
Could bear with patience. And it is some ease
To me in these extremes, that I knew this
Before I touched thee; else, had all the sins
Of mankind stood betwixt me and the King,
I had gone throu
gh ’em to his heart and thine.
I have left one desire: ’tis not his crown
Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolve
He has dishonored thee. Give me thy hand:
Be careful of thy credit, and sin close;26
’Tis all I wish. Upon thy chamber-floor
I’ll rest to-night, that morning visitors
May think we did as married people use:
And, prithee, smile upon me when they come,
And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleased
With what we did.
EVAD. Fear not; I will do this.
AMIN. Come, let us practise; and, as wantonly
As ever longing bride and bridegroom met,
Let’s laugh and enter here.
EVAD. I am content.
AMIN. Down all the swellings of my troubled heart!
When we walk thus intwined, let all eyes see
If ever lovers better did agree.
Exeunt
SCENE II
Enter Aspatia, Antiphila, and Olympias
ASP. Away, you are not sad! force it no further.
Good gods, how well you look! Such a full color
Young bashful brides put on: sure, you are new married!
ANT. Yes, madam, to your grief.
ASP. Alas, poor wenches!
Go learn to love first; learn to lose yourselves;
Learn to be flattered, and believe and bless
The double tongue that did it; make a faith
Out of the miracles of ancient lovers,
Such as spake truth, and died in’t; and, like me,
Believe all faithful, and be miserable.
Did you ne’er love yet, wenches? Speak, Olympias;
Thou hast an easy temper, fit for stamp.
OLYM. Never.
ASP. Nor you, Antiphila?
ANT. Nor I.
ASP. Then, my good girls, be more than women, wise;
At least be more than I was; and be sure
You credit any thing the light gives life to,
Before a man. Rather believe the sea
Weeps for the ruined merchant, when he roars;
Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails,
When the strong cordage cracks; rather, the sun
Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn,
When all falls blasted. If you needs must love,
(Forced by ill fate,) take to your maiden-bosoms
Two dead-cold aspics,27 and of them make lovers:
They cannot flatter nor forswear; one kiss
Makes a long peace for all. But man.—
O, that beast man! Come, let’s be sad, my girls:
That down-cast of thine eyes, Olympias,
Shows a fine sorrow.—Mark, Antiphila;
Just such another was the nymph œnone’s,
When Paris brought home Helen.—Now, a tear;
And then thou art a piece expressing fully
The Carthage-queen,28 when from a cold sea-rock,
Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes
To the fair Trojan ships; and, having lost them,
Just as thine eyes do, down stole a tear.—Antiphila,
What would this wench do, if she were Aspatia?
Here she would stand, till some more pitying god
Turned her to marble.—’Tis enough, my wench.—
Show me the piece of needlework you wrought.
ANT. Of Ariadne,29 madam?
ASP. Yes, that piece.—
This should be Theseus; h’as a cozening30 face.—
You meant him for a man?
ANT. He was so, madam.
ASP. Why, then, ’tis well enough.—Never look back;
You have a full wind and a false heart, Theseus.—
Does not the story say, his keel was split,
Or his masts spent, or some kind rock or other
Met with his vessel?
ANT. Not as I remember.
ASP. It should ha’ been so. Could the gods know this,
And not, of all their number, raise a storm?
But they are all as evil. This false smile
Was well expressed; just such another caught me.—
You shall not go so.31—
Antiphila, in this place work a quicksand,
And over it a shallow smiling water,
And his ship ploughing it; and then a Fear;
Do that Fear to the life, wench.
ANT. ’Twill wrong the story.
ASP. ’Twill make the story, wronged by wanton poets,
Live long and be believed. But where’s the lady?
ANT. There, madam.
ASP. Fie, you have missed it here, Antiphila;
You are much mistaken, wench:
These colors are not dull and pale enough
To show a soul so full of misery
As this sad lady’s was. Do it by me,
Do it again by me, the lost Aspatia;
And you shall find all true but the wild island.32
Suppose I stand upon the sea-beach now,
Mine arms thus, and mine hair blown with the wind,
Wild as that desert; and let all about me
Tell that I am forsaken. Do my face
(If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow)
Thus, thus, Antiphila: strive to make me look
Like Sorrow’s monument; and the trees about me,
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks
Groan with continual surges; and behind me,
Make all a desolation. See, see, wenches,
A miserable life of this poor picture!
OLYM. Dear madam!
ASP. I have done. Sit down; and let us
Upon that point fix all our eyes, that point there.
Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sadness
Give us new souls.
Enter Calianax
CAL. The King may do this, and he may not do it:
My child is wronged, disgraced.—Well, how now, huswives?
What, at your ease! is this a time to sit still?
Up, you young lazy whores, up, or I’ll swinge you!
OLYM. Nay, good my lord—
CAL. You’ll lie down shortly. Get you in, and work!
What, are you grown so resty33 you want heats?
We shall have some of the court-boys heat you shortly.
ANT. My lord, we do no more than we are charged:
It is the lady’s pleasure we be thus;
In grief she is forsaken.
CAL. There’s a rogue too.
A young dissembling slave!—Well, get you in.—
I’ll have a bout with that boy. ’Tis high time
Now to be valiant: I confess my youth
Was never prone that way. What, made an ass!
A court-stale!34 Well, I will be valiant,
And beat some dozen of these whelps; I will!
And there’s another of’em, a trim cheating soldier,35
I’ll maul that rascal; h’as out-braved me twice:
But now, I thank the gods, I am valiant.—
Go, get you in.—I’ll take a course with all.
Exeunt omnes
ACT III, SCENE I
Enter Cleon, Strato, and Diphilus
CLE. Your sister is not up yet.
DIPH. O, brides must take their morning’s rest; the night is troublesome.
STRA. But not tedious.
DIPH. What odds, he has not my sister’s maidenhead tonight?
STRA. None; it’s odds against any bridegroom living, he ne’er gets it while he lives.
DIPH. Y’are merry with my sister; you’ll please to allow me the same freedom with your mother.
STRA. She’s at your service.
DIPH. Then she’s merry enough of herself; she needs no tickling.
Knock at the door.
STRA. We shall interrupt them.
DIPH. NO matter; they have the year before
them.—Good morrow, sister. Spare yourself to-day; the night will come again.
Enter Amintor
AMIN. Who’s there? my brother! I’m no readier yet.
Your sister is but now up.
DIPH. You look as you had lost your eyes to-night: I think you ha’ not slept.
AMIN. I’faith I have not.
DIPH. You have done better, then.
AMIN. We ventured for a boy; when he is twelve,
’A shall command against the foes of Rhodes.
Shall we be merry?
STRA. You cannot; you want sleep.
AMIN. ’Tis true;—[Aside] but she,
As if she had drunk Lethe, or had made
Even with heaven, did fetch so still a sleep,
So sweet and sound—
DIPH. What’s that?
AMIN. Your sister frets
This morning, and does turn her eyes upon me,
As people on their headsman. She does chafe,
And kiss, and chafe again, and clap my cheeks!
She’s in another world.
DIPH. Then I had lost: I was about to lay
You had not got her maidenhead to-night.
AMIN. [Aside] Ha! does he not mock me?—Y’ad lost indeed;
I do not use to bungle.
CLE. You do deserve her.
AMIN. [Aside] I laid my lips to hers, and that wild breath,
That was so rude and rough to me last night,
Was sweet as April. I’ll be guilty too,
If these be the effects.—
Enter Melantius
MEL. Good day, Amintor; for to me the name
Of brother is too distant: we are friends,
And that is nearer.
AMIN. Dear Melantius!
Let me behold thee.—Is it possible?
MEL. What sudden gaze is this?
AMIN. ’Tis wondrous strange!
MEL. Why does thine eye desire so strict a view
Of that it knows so well? There’s nothing here
That is not thine.
AMIN. I wonder much, Melantius,
To see those noble looks, that make me think
How virtuous thou art: and, on the sudden,
’Tis strange to me thou shouldst have worth and honor;
Or not be base, and false, and treacherous,
And every ill. But—
MEL. Stay, stay, my friend;
I fear this sound will not become our loves:
No more; embrace me.
AMIN. O, mistake me not!
I know thee to be full of all those deeds
That we frail men call good; but by the course
Of nature thou shouldst be as quickly changed
As are the winds; dissembling as the sea,
That now wears brows as smooth as virgins’ be,
Tempting the merchant to invade his face,
And in an hour calls his billows up,
The Duchess of Malfi Page 33
