Your carriage tried by land, and prov'd at sea,
Of which I have heard such full expression,
No contradiction can persuade you less;
And in this faith I am constant.
Mont. A mere worm,
Trod on by every fate.
Pet. Raised by your merit
To be a common argument through Spain,
And speech at princes' tables, for your worth;
Your presence when you please to expose 't abroad
Attracts all eyes, and draws them after
you;
And those that understand you, call their friends,
And pointing through the streets, say, This is he,
This is that brave and noble Englishman,
Whom soldiers strive to make their precedent,
And other men their wonder.
Mont. This your scorn
Makes me appear more abject to myself
Than all diseases I have tasted yet
Had power to asperse upon me; and yet, lady,
I could say something, durst I.
Pet. Speak 't at once.
Mont. And yet
Pet. Nay, but we 'll admit no pause.
Mont. I know not how my phrase may relish you, And loath I were to offend; even in what 's past I must confess I was too bold. Farewell;
I shall no more distaste you.
Pet. Sir, you do not;
I do proclaim you do not. Stay, I charge you;
Or, as you say you have been fortune's scorn,
So ever prove to woman.
Mont. You charge deeply,
And yet now I bethink me
Pet. As you are a soldier,
And Englishman, have hope to be redeem'd
From this your scorned bondage you sustain.
Have comfort in your mother and fair sister;
Renown so blazed in the ears of Spain;
Hope to rebreathe that air you tasted first;
So tell me
Mont. What?
Pet. Your apprehension catch'd,
And almost was in sheaf
Mont. Lady, I shall.
Pet. And in a word.
Mont. I will.
Pet. Pronounce it then.
Mont. I love you.
Pet. Ha, ha, ha.
Mont. Still it is my misery
Thus to be mock'd in all things.
Pet. Pretty, faith.
Mont. I look'd thus to be laugh'd at; my estate
And fortunes, I confess, deserve no less;
That made me so unwilling to denounce
Mine own derisions; but, alas! I find
No nation, sex, complexion, birth, degree,
But jest at want, and mock at misery.
Pet. Love me?
Mont. I do, I do; and maugre fate,
And spite of all sinister evil, shall.
And now I charge you, by that filial zeal
You owe your father, by the memory
Of your dear mother, by the joys you hope
In blessed marriage, by the fortunate issue
Stor❜d in your womb, by these and all things else
That you can style with goodness, instantly,
Without evasion, trick, or circumstance,
Nay, least premeditation, answer me :
Affect you me, or no?
Pet. How speak you that?
Mont. Without demur or pause.
Pet. Give me but time
Mont. I pardon you no minute; not so much,
As to apparel the least phrase you speak;
Speak in the shortest sentence.
Pet. You have vanquish'd me,
At mine own weapon: noble sir, I love you : And what my heart durst never tell my tongue, Lest it should blab my thoughts, at last I speak, And iterate, I love you.
Mont. Oh, my happiness!
What wilt thou feel me still? art thou not weary
Of making me thy May-game, to possess me
Of such a treasure's mighty magazine,
Not suffer me t' enjoy it, ta'en with this hand,
With that to give 't another?
Be so no more; if you have been dejected,
It lies in me to mount you to that height
You could not aim at greater. I am yours.
These lips, that only witness it in air,
Now with this truth confirm it.
Mont. I was born to 't,
And it shall out at once.
Pet. Sir, you seem passionate,
As if my answer pleas'd not.
Mont. Now my death,
For mine own tongue must kill me: noble lady,
You have endear'd me to you, but my vow
Was, ne'er to match with any, of what state
Or birth soever, till before the contract
Some one thing I impose her.
Mont. Or, if she fail me in my first demand,
I to abjure her ever.
That beg to be employ'd so: name a danger,
Whose very face would fright all womanhood,
And manhood put in trance, nay, whose aspect
Would ague such as should but hear it told,
But to the sad beholder, prove like those
That gaz'd upon Medusa's snaky locks,
And turn'd them into marble, these and more,
Should you but speak 't, I'd do.
Mont. And swear to this?
Pet. I vow it by my honour, my best hopes,
And all that I wish gracious: name it then,
For I am in a longing in my
soul
To show my love's expression.
Mont. You shall then
Pet. I'll do 't, as I am a virgin :
Lie it within mortality, I 'll do 't.
Mont. You shall
Pet. I will that which appears in you
So terrible to speak, I 'll joy to act,
And take pride in performance.
Mont. Then you shall
Pet. What, soldier, what?
And at his soonest appointment marry him. Pet. Then I am lost.
Miracle of Beauty.
I remember,1
There liv'd a Spanish princess of our name,
An Isabella too, and not long since,
Who from her palace windows steadfastly
Gazing upon the sun, her hair took fire.
Some augurs held it as a prodigy;
I rather think she was Latona's brood,
And that Apollo courted her bright hair;
Else, envying that her tresses put down his,
He scorch'd them off in envy; nor dare I
From her deriv'd, expose me to his beams,
1 A proud Spanish princess relates this.
Lest, as he burns the phoenix in her nest,
Made of the sweetest aromatic wood,
Either in love, or envy, he agree
To use the like combustion upon me.
FURTHER EXTRACTS FROM
THE SAME.
Appeal to Innocence against a False Accusation.
Helena. Both have sworn:
And Princes, as you hope to crown your heads
With that perpetual wreath, which shall last ever,
Cast on a poor dejected innocent virgin
Your eyes of grace and pity. What sin is 't?
Or who can be the patron to such evil?
That a poor innocent maid, spotless in thought,
And pure in heart, born without spleen and gall,
That never injur'd creature, never had heart
To think of wrong, or ponder injury,
That such a one in her white innocence,
Striving to live peculiar in the compass
Of her own virtues, notwithstanding these,
Should be sought out by strangers, persecuted,
Made infamous, even there where she was made
For imitation, hiss'd at in her country,
Abandoned of her mother, kindred, friends,
Deprav'd in foreign climes, scorn'd everywhere,
And even in Princes' Courts, reputed vile :-
O pity, pity this.
In the prologue to this play, Heywood commends the English plays; not without censure of some writers, who in his time had begun to degenerate.
The Roman and the Athenian dramas far
Differ from us; and those that frequent are
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