His anger, and prevail'd; your father hath
Reversed that heavy censure of his curse,

And in the place bequeath'd his prayer and blessing.
Fer. I am new created by his charity.

Conf. Some ceremonies are behind : he did
Desire to be interr'd within our convent,

And left his sepulture to me; I am confident,
Your pieties will give me leave-

Fran. His will in all things I obey, and yours,
Most reverend father: order as you please
His body; we may after celebrate

With all due obsequies his funeral.

Fer. Why you alone obey? I am your brother:

My father's eldest son, though not his heir.

Fran. It pleas'd my father, sir, to think me worthy

Of such a title; you shall find me kind,

If you can look on matters without envy.

Fer. If I can look on matters without envy!
Fran. You may live here still.

Fer. I may live here, Francisco!

Enter a Gentleman with a letter.

Conditions! I would not understand
This dialect.

Fran. With me, from madam——-
Gent. If you be signior Francisco.
Fer. Slighted!—

I find my father was not dead till now.

- ?

Croud not, you jealous thoughts, so thick into
My brain, lest you do tempt me to an act,

Will forfeit all again.

[Act iv., Sc. 1.]

Fernando tells Felisarda that his father is dead.

Fer. I have a story to deliver;

A tale, will make thee sad: but I must tell it.

There is one dead, that lov'd thee not.

Fel. One dead,

That lov'd not me? this carries, sir, in nature

No killing sound: I shall be sad to know

I did deserve an enemy or he want

A charity at death.

1 Like the reply of Manoah in Samson Agonistes: "Sad, but not saddest, the desolation of a hostile city."

Fer. Thy cruel enemy,

And my best friend, hath took eternal leave,
And's gone to heaven, I hope: excuse my tears;
It is a tribute I must pay his memory;

For I did love my father.

Fel. Ha! your father!

Fer. Yes, Felisarda, he is gone, that in

The morning promis'd many years, but death

Hath in a few hours made him as stiff, as all

The winds and winter had thrown cold upon him,

And whisper'd him to marble.

Fer. My inheritance, wrought from me
By thy sly creeping to supplant my birth,
And cheat our father's easy soul, unworthily
Betraying to his anger, for thy lust

Of wealth, the love and promise of two hearts.
Poor Felisarda and Fernando now

Wither at soul, and robb'd by thee of that
Should cherish virtue, like to rifled pilgrims
Met on the way, and having told their story,
And dropt their even tears for both their loss,
Wander from one another.

Fran. "Tis not sure

Fernando, but his passion (that obeys not
The counsel of his reason) would accuse me :
And if my father now (since spirits lose not
Intelligence, but more active when they have

Shook off their chains of flesh,) would leave his dwelling,
And visit this coarse orb1 again: my innocence

Should dare the appeal, and make Fernando see
His empty accusations.

Fer. He that thrives

By wicked art, has confidence to dress
His action with simplicity and shapes,
To cheat our credulous natures: 'tis my

wonder

1 1 Dirty planet.-Sterne.

Thou durst do so much injury, Francisco,
As must provoke my justice to revenge,
Yet wear no sword.

Fran. I need no guard; I know
Thou dar'st not kill me.

Fer. Dare I not?

Fran. And name

Thy cause 'tis thy suspicion, not Francisco,

Hath wrought thee high and passionate. To assure it ;
If you dare violate, I dare possess you

With all my title to your land.

Car. How is that?1

Fran. Let him receive it at his peril.
Fer. Ha!

Fran. It was my father's act, not mine: he trembled
To hear his curse alive; what horror will

His conscience feel, when he shall spurn his dust,
And call the reverend shade from his blest seat

To this bad world again, to walk and fright him! 2
Fer. Can this be more than a dream?

Fran. (Gives him the will). Sir, you may cancel it.
But think withal,

How you can answer him that's dead, when he

Shall charge your timorous soul for this contempt
To nature and religion; to break

His last bequest, and breath, that seal'd your blessings!

Car. These are fine fancies.

Here; and

and may it

prosper,

[Is going.

Where my good father meant it: I am overcome.

Fer. (Returns the will).

Forgive me, and enjoy it.3

His father RAMIRES (supposed dead) appears above, with

Ram. Fernando, stay.

FELISARDA.

Fer. Ha, my father and Felisarda :

Are they both dead!-I did not think

[Kneels.

To find thee in this pale society

Of ghosts so soon.

Fel. I am alive, Fernando:

And Don Ramires still thy living father.

Fran. You may believe it, sir, I was of the council,5

Car. Men thought you dead.

Ram. It lay within

1 [Two lines omitted.]
[Five and a half lines.]

2 [One ine.]
[Four lines.]

[Five and a half lines.]

The knowledge of Francisco, and some few,
By this device to advance my younger son
To a marriage with Jacinta, sir, and try
Fernando's piety, and his mistress' virtue :

Which I have found worth him, and my acceptance.
With her I give thee what thy birth did challenge:
Receive thy Felisarda.

Fer. "Tis a joy

So flowing, it drowns all my faculties.

My soul will not contain, I fear, but loose,

And leave me in this extacy.

[Act v., Sc. 3.]

THE LADY OF PLEASURE. A COMEDY [PUBLISHED 1637: LICENSED 1635]. BY JAMES SHIRLEY

Sir Thomas Bornewell expostulates with his lady on her extravagance and love of pleasure.

BORNEWELL. ARETINA, his lady.

Are. I am angry with myself;

To be so miserably restrain'd in things,

Wherein it doth concern your love and honour
To see me satisfied.

Bor. In what, Aretina,

Dost thou accuse me? have I not obey'd
All thy desires, against mine own opinion;
Quitted the country, and remov'd the hope
Of our return, by sale of that fair lordship
We liv'd in chang'd a calm and retired life
For this wild town, compos'd of noise and charge?
Are. What charge, more than is necessary

For a lady of my birth and education?

Bor. I am not ignorant how much nobility

Flows in your blood, your kinsmen great and powerful
In the state; but with this lose not your memory
Of being my wife: I shall be studious,

Madam, to give the dignity of your birth

All the best ornaments which become my fortune;
But would not flatter it, to ruin both,

And be the fable of the town, to teach
Other men wit by loss of mine, employ'd
To serve your vast expences.

Are. Am I then

Brought in the balance? so, sir.

Bor. Though you weigh

Me in a partial scale, my heart is honest:
And must take liberty to think, you have
Obey'd no modest counsel to effect,

Nay, study ways of pride and costly ceremony;
Your change of gaudy furniture, and pictures,
Of this Italian master, and that Dutchman's ;
Your mighty looking-glasses, like artillery
Brought home on engines; the superfluous plate
Antick and novel; vanities of tires,

Four score pound suppers for my lord
your kinsman,
Banquets for t'other lady, aunt, and cousins;
And perfumes, that exceed all; train of servants,
To stifle us at home, and shew abroad

More motly than the French, or the Venetian,
About your coach, whose rude postilion

Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers

And tradesmen curse your choaking up their stalls, And common cries pursue your ladyship

For hind'ring of their market.

Are. Have you done, sir?

Bor. I could accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe,

And prodigal embroideries, under which,

Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare
Not shew their own complexions; your jewels,
Able to burn out the spectators' eyes,

And shew like bonfires on you by the tapers:
Something might here be spared, with safety of
Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth
Shines from the soul, and draws up just admirers.
I could urge something more.

Are. Pray, do. I like

Your homily of thrift.

Bor. I could wish, madam,

You would not game so much.

Are. A gamester, too!

Bor. But are not come to that repentance yet, Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit ; You look not through the subtilty of cards, And mysteries of dice, nor can you save Charge with the box, buy petticoats and pearls, And keep your family by the precious income; Nor do I wish you should: my poorest servant Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire