« AnteriorContinuar »
Rho. Us! what us? you are alone. i
Pala. Us! the devil's in me for mistaking:—me, I meant. Or us, that is, you are me, or I you, as we are friends: That's us.
Dor. Palamede, Palamede! [JVithin.
Rho. I should know that voice; who's within there, that calls you?
Pala. Faith, I can't imagine; I believe the place is haunted.
Dor. Palamede, Palamede, all-cocks hidden.
Pala. Lord, Lord, what shall I do ?—Well, dear friend, to let you see I scorn to be jealous, and that I dare trust my mistress with you, take her back, for I would not willingly have her frighted, and I am resolved to see who's there; I'll not be daunted with a bugbear, that's certain:—Prithee, dispute it not, it shall be so; nay do not put me to swear, but go quickly: There's an effort of pure friendship for you now.
Enter Doralice, and looks amazed, seeing them.
Rho. Doralice! I am thunder-struck to see you here.
Pala. So am I! quite thunder-struck. Was it you, that called me within?—I must be impudent.
Rho. How came you hither, spouse?
Pala. Ay, how came you hither? And, which is more, how could you be here without my knowledge?
Dor. [To her husband.] O, gentlemen, have I caught you i'faith! have I broke forth in ambush upon you! I thought my suspicions would prove true.
Rho. Suspicions! this is very fine, spouse! Prithee, what suspicions?
Dor. O, you feign ignorance: Why, of you and
Melantha; here have I staid these two hours, waiting with all the rage of a passionate, loving wife, but infinitely jealous, to take you two in the manner; for hither I was certain you would come.
Rho. But you are mistaken, spouse, in the occasion; for we came hither on purpose to find Pala- mede, on intelligence he was gone before.
Pala. I'll be hanged then, if the same party, who gave you intelligence I was here, did not tell your wife you would come hither. Now I smell the malice on't on both sides.
Dor. Was it so, think you? nay, then, I'll confess my part of the malice too. As soon as ever I spied my husband and Melantha come together, I had a strange temptation to make him jealous in revenge; and that made me call Palamede, Palamede! as though there had been an intrigue between us.
Mel. Nay, I avow, there was an appearance of an intrigue between us too.
Pala. To see how things will come about!Rho. And was it only thus, my dear Doralice r
Dor. And did I wrong n'own Rhodophil, with a false suspicion? [Embracing him.
Pala. [Aside.] Now I am confident we had all four the same design: Tis a pretty odd kind of game this, where each of us plays for double stakes: This is just thrust and parry with the same motion; I am to get his wife, and yet to guard my own mistress. But I am vilely suspicious, that, while I conquer in the right wing, I shall be routed in the left; for both our women will certainly betray their party, because they are each of them for gaining of two, as well as we; and I much fear,
If their necessities and ours were known,
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter Leonidas, musing; Amalthea, following
Amal. Yonder he is; and I must speak or die; And yet 'tis death to speak: yet he must know I have a passion for him, and may know it With a less blush; because to offer it To his low fortunes, shows I loved before, His person, not his greatness.
Leon. First scorned, and now commanded from the court!The king is good; but he is wrought to this By proud Argaleon's malice. What more disgrace can love and fortune join To inflict upon one man? I cannot now Behold my dear Palmyra: She, perhaps, too, Is grown ashamed of a mean ill-placed love.
Amal. Assist me, Venus, for I tremble when I am to speak, but I must force myself. [Aside. Sir, I would crave but one short minute with you, And some few words.
Leon. The proud Argaleon's sister! [Aside.
Amal. Alas! it will not out; Shame stops my mouth. [Aside. Pardon my error, sir; I was mistaken, And took you for another.
Leon. In spite of all his guards, I'll see Palmyra;
[Aside. Though meanly born, I have a kingly soul.
Amal. I stand upon a precipice, where fain
Leon. O, you are sent to scorn my fortunes?
Amal. Now he looks angry, and I dare not speak.
Leon. Then 'twill be charity to let me mourn My griefs alone, for I am much disordered.
Amal. 'Twill be more charity to mourn them with you: Heaven knows I pity you.
Leon. Your pity, madam,
Amal. You know not till 'tis tried.
Leon. Are not these enough?
Amal. More; you are banished, by my brother's means, And ne'er must hope again to see your princess;
The king this morning has enjoined his daughter To accept my brother's love.
Leon. Is this your pity? You aggravate my griefs, and print them deeper, In new and heavier stamps.
Amal. Tis as physicians show the desperate ill, To endear their art, by mitigating pains They cannot wholly cure: When you despair Of all you wish, some part of it, because Unhoped for, may be grateful; and some other
Leon. What other?
Amal. Some other may
My shame again has seized me, and I can go [Aside. No farther.
Leon. These often failing sighs and interruptions Make me imagine you have grief like mine: Have you ne'er loved?
Amal. I f never!—Tis in vain: I must despair in silence. [Aside.
Leon. You come, as I suspected then, to mock, At least observe, my griefs: 1 ake it not ill, That I must leave you. [Is going.
Amal. You must not go with these unjust opinions. Command my life and fortunes: you are wise; Think, and think well, what I can do to serve you. Leon. I have but one thing in my thoughts and wishes:If, by your means, I can obtain the sight Of my adored Palmyra; or, what's harder, One minute's time, to tell her, I die hers—
[She starts back.
I see I am not to expect it from you;
Amal. Name any other thing! Is Amalthea
Leon. If I should ask of heaven,
Amal. To show you, then, I can deny you nothing,