FRANK. This is closed up beyond our wishes. [_Exeunt._
_Manet_ LUCE.
LUCE. I am undone, unless thy wit, Francisco, Can find some means to free me from this fool, Who would have thought the sot could be so gross To take upon him what he never did, To his own shame? I'll send to my Francisco, And I must lose no time; for I am dead, If not delivered from this loathed bed.
FOOTNOTES:
[415] ["A celebrated political register, as Mr Chalmers aptly terms it, which was now much used. Mention of it is made by almost all the writers of Jonson's age. As it treated of contemporary events, treaties, sieges, &c., in a dead language, it was necessarily driven to the use of unknown and unwarranted terms."--_Gifford's Ben Jonson_, ii. 530, _note_.
Cleveland, in the "Character of a London Diurnal," 1644, says: "The original sinner of this kind was _Dutch, Gallo-belgicus_ the _Protoplast:_ and the _Modern Mercuries_ but Hans en Kelders." Some intelligence given by _Mercurius Gallo-belgicus_ is mentioned in Carew's "Survey of Cornwall," p. 126, originally published in 1602. Dr Donne, in his verses upon Thomas Coryat's "Crudities," 1611, says--
"To _Gallo Belgicus_ appear As deep a statesman as a gazetteer."
[416] See the "Spanish Tragedy," vol. v.
[417] Penelope.
[418] In the 4, 1633, it stands _Sienna Morenna_, and so Mr Reed allowed it to remain.--_Collier._
[419] The work here mentioned is entitled "Tullies Love, wherein is discovered the prime of 'Ciceroes youth,' &c. &c., by Robert Greene.
In artibus magister." I have seen no earlier edition of it than that in 1616.--_Steevens._ [It was first printed in 1589.]
[420] The situation of Luce is expressed after her name in the old copy by the word _gravida_, and there seems no reason for omitting it.
The conclusion of the play shows the necessity of making her condition obvious.--_Collier._
ACT II.
_Enter_ PHILOCLES, _and_ CLERIMONT _at the window_.
CLER. See, Philocles, yonder's that happy shade, That often veils the fair Leucothoe, And this her usual hour; she'll not be long: Then thou shalt tell me if so rare an object E'er bless'd thine eyes before.
PHIL. Well, I would see her once, Were't but to try thy judgment, Clerimont.
CLER. And when thou dost, remember what I told thee, I would not be so sick;[421] but soft, look to thy heart, Yonder she comes, and that's her waiting-woman.
[LEUCOTHOe _and_ PSECTAS _in the garden_.
Now gaze thy fill; speak, man, how lik'st thou her?
LEU. Psectas!
PSEC. Madam.
LEU. What flower was that, That thou wert telling such a story of Last night to me?
PSEC. 'Tis call'd Narcissus, madam: It bears the name of that too beauteous boy That lost himself by loving of himself; Who, viewing in a fair and crystal stream Those lips that only he could never kiss, Doats on the shadow, which to reach in vain Striving he drowns: thus, scorning all beside, For the lov'd shadow the fair substance died.
LEU. Fie, fie! I like not these impossible tales; A man to fall in love with his own shadow, And die for love, 'tis most ridiculous!
PSEC. Madam, I know not; I have often seen Both men and women court the looking-glass With so much seeming contentation, That I could think this true; nay, wear it about 'em, As lovers do their mistress' counterfeit.[422]
LEU. That's not for love, but to correct their beauties, And draw from others admiration; For all the comfort that our faces give Unto ourselves, is but reflection Of that fair liking that another takes.
CLER. I would we were a little nearer 'em, We might but hear what talk these wenches have, When they are alone; I warrant, some good stuff.
PHIL. 'Tis happiness enough for me to see The motion of her lips.
CLER. I' faith, is't thereabouts?
Why, Philocles! what, lost already, man!
Struck dead with one poor glance! Look up, for shame, And tell me how thou lik'st my judgment now-- Now thou dost see?
PHIL. Ah, Clerimont! too well; Too well I see what I shall never taste, Yon lady's beauty: she must needs be cruel (Though her fair shape deny it) to the son Of him that is her father's enemy.
That, Clerimont, that fatal difference Checks my desire, and sinks my rising hopes; But love's a torrent violent, if stopp'd, And I am desperately mad: I must-- I must be hers, or else I must not be.
CLER. Contain that passion, that will else o'er-whelm All virtue in you, all that is call'd man, And should be yours; take my advice, my heart, My life, to second you: let us consult; You may find time to speak to her and woo her.
PHIL. Nay, nay, I will, in spite of destiny.
Let women and faint-hearted fools complain In languishing despair; a manly love Dares show itself, and press to his desires Through thickest troops of horrid[423] opposites.
Were there a thousand waking dragons set To keep that golden fruit, I would attempt To pluck and taste it; 'tis the danger crowns A brave achievement! What if I should go And boldly woo her in her father's house In spite of enmity, what could they say?
CLER. 'Twere madness that, not wisdom: rash attempts Betray the means, but never work the end.
PHIL. She would not hate a man for loving her; Or if she did, better be once denied Than live for ever hapless.
CLER. But take time; The second thoughts, our wise men say, are best.
PHIL. Delay's a double death; no, I have thought A means that straight I'll put in execution: I'll write a letter to her presently, Take how it will.
CLER. A letter! who shall carry it?
PHIL. I'll tell thee when I have done: hast thou pen and ink in thy chamber?
CLER. Yes, there is one upon the table. I'll stay here at the window, and watch whether she stay or not. What a sudden change is this!
LEU. Did not Count Virro promise to be here To-day at dinner?
PSEC. Yes, madam, that he did; and I dare swear He will not break.
LEU. He needs not, he is rich enough; unless he should break in knavery, as some of our merchants do nowadays.
PSEC. Break promise, madam, I mean; and that he will not for your sake: you know his business.
LEU. I would I did not: he might spare his pains, And that unusual cost that he bestows In pranking up himself, and please me better.