To the princess Fiorinda.

  _Fior._ We will read it.      [_Reads._

      _He, whom you pleased to favour, is cast down
      Past hope of rising, by the great duke's frown,
      If, by your gracious means, he cannot have
      A pardon;--and that got, he lives your slave.
              Of men the most distressed_,
                                     SANAZARRO.

  Of me the most beloved; and I will save thee,
  Or perish with thee. Sure, thy fault must be
  Of some prodigious shape, if that my prayers
  And humble intercession to the duke

_Enter_ COZIMO _and_ CHAROMONTE.

  Prevail not with him. Here he comes; delay
  Shall not make less my benefit.

  _Coz._ What we purpose
  Shall know no change, and therefore move we not:
  We were made as properties, and what we shall
  Determine of them cannot be call'd rigour,
  But noble justice. When they proved disloyal,
  They were cruel to themselves. The prince that pardons
  The first affront offer'd to majesty,
  Invites a second, rendering that power
  Subjects should tremble at, contemptible.
  Ingratitude is a monster, Carolo,
  To be strangled in the birth, not to be cherish'd.
  Madam, you're happily met with.

  _Fior._ Sir, I am
  An humble suitor to you; and the rather
  Am confident of a grant, in that your grace,
  When I made choice to be at your devotion,
  Vow'd to deny me nothing.

  _Coz._ To this minute
  We have confirm'd it. What's your boon?

  _Fior._ It is, sir,
  That you, in being gracious to your servant,
  The ne'er sufficiently praised Sanazarro,
  That now under your heavy displeasure suffers,
  Would be good unto yourself. His services,
  So many, and so great, (your storm of fury
  Calm'd by your better judgment,) must inform you
  Some little slip, for sure it is no more,
  From his loyal duty, with your justice cannot
  Make foul his fair deservings. Great sir, therefore,
  Look backward on his former worth, and turning
  Your eye from his offence, what 'tis I know not,
  And, I am confident, you will receive him
  Once more into your favour.

  _Coz._ You say well,
  You are ignorant in the nature of his fault;
  Which when you understand, as we'll instruct you,
  Your pity will appear a charity,
  It being conferr'd on an unthankful man,
  To be repented. He's a traitor, madam,
  To you, to us, to gratitude; and in that
  All crimes are comprehended.

  _Fior._ If his offence
  Aim'd at me only, whatsoe'er it is,
  'Tis freely pardon'd.

  _Coz._ This compassion in you
  Must make the colour of his guilt more ugly.
  The honours we have hourly heap'd upon him,
  The titles, the rewards, to the envy of
  The old nobility, as the common people,
  We now forbear to touch at, and will only
  Insist on his gross wrongs to you. You were pleased,
  Forgetting both yourself and proper greatness,
  To favour him, nay, to court him to embrace
  A happiness, which, on his knees, with joy
  He should have sued for. Who repined not at
  The grace you did him? yet, in recompense
  Of your large bounties, the disloyal wretch
  Makes you a stale; and, what he might be by you,
  Scorn'd and derided, gives himself up wholly
  To the service of another. If you can
  Bear this with patience, we must say you have not
  The bitterness of spleen, or ireful passions
  Familiar to women. Pause upon it,
  And when you seriously have weigh'd his carriage,
  Move us again, if your reason will allow it,
  His treachery known: and then, if you continue
  An advocate for him, we perhaps, because
  We would deny you nothing, may awake
  Our sleeping mercy. Carolo!

  _Char._ My lord.      [_They talk aside._

  _Fior._ To endure a rival that were equal to me,
  Cannot but speak my poverty of spirit;
  But an inferior, more: yet true love must not
  Know or degrees, or distances. Lidia may be
  As far above me in her form, as she
  Is in her birth beneath me; and what I
  In Sanazarro liked, he loves in her.
  But, if I free him now, the benefit
  Being done so timely, and confirming too
  My strength and power, my soul's best faculties being
  Bent wholly to preserve him, must supply me
  With all I am defective in, and bind him
  My creature ever. It must needs be so,
  Nor will I give it o'er thus.

  _Coz._ Does your nephew
  Bear his restraint so constantly[91], as you
  Deliver it to us?

  _Char._ In my judgment, sir,
  He suffers more for his offence to you,
  Than in his fear of what can follow it.
  For he is so collected, and prepared
  To welcome that you shall determine of him,
  As if his doubts and fears were equal to him.
  And sure he's not acquainted with much guilt,
  That more laments the telling one untruth,
  Under your pardon still, for 'twas a fault, sir,
  Than others, that pretend to conscience, do
  Their crying secret sins.

  _Coz._ No more; this gloss
  Defends not the corruption of the text.
  Urge it no more.
           [CHAROMONTE _and the others talk aside_.

  _Fior._ I once more must make bold, sir,
  To trench upon your patience. I have
  Consider'd my wrongs duly: yet that cannot
  Divert my intercession for a man
  Your grace, like me, once favour'd. I am still
  A suppliant to you, that you would vouchsafe
  The hearing his defence, and that I may,
  With your allowance, see and comfort him.
  Then, having heard all that he can allege
  In his excuse, for being false to you,
  Censure him as you please.

  _Coz._ You will o'ercome;
  There's no contending with you. Pray you, enjoy
  What you desire, and tell him, he shall have
  A speedy trial; in which, we will forbear
  To sit a judge, because our purpose is
  To rise up his accuser.

  _Fior._ All increase
  Of happiness wait on Cozimo!
                [_Exeunt_ FIORINDA _and_ CALAMINTA.

  _Alph._ Was it no more?

  _Char._ My honour's pawn'd for it.

  _Cont._ I'll second you.

  _Hip._ Since it is for the service and the safety
  Of the hopeful prince, fall what can fall, I'll run
  The desperate hazard.

  _Hier._ He's no friend to virtue
  That does decline it.
                 [_They all come forward and kneel._

  _Coz._ Ha! what sue you for?
  Shall we be ever troubled? Do not tempt
  That anger may consume you.

  _Char._ Let it, sir:
  The loss is less, though innocents we perish,
  Than that your sister's son should fall, unheard,
  Under your fury. Shall we fear to entreat
  That grace for him, that are your faithful servants,
  Which you vouchsafe the count, like us a subject?

  _Coz._ Did not we vow, till sickness had forsook
  Thy daughter Lidia, and she appear'd
  In her perfect health and beauty to plead for him,
  We were deaf to all persuasion?

  _Char._ And that hope, sir,
  Hath wrought a miracle. She is recover'd,
  And, if you please to warrant her, will bring
  The penitent prince before you.

  _Coz._ To enjoy
  Such happiness, what would we not dispense with?

  _Alph. Hip. Hier._ We all kneel for the prince.

  _Cont._ Nor can it stand
  With your mercy, that are gracious to strangers,
  To be cruel to your own.

  _Coz._ But art thou certain
  I shall behold her at the best?

  _Char._ If ever
  She was handsome, as it fits not me to say so,
  She is now much better'd.

  _Coz._ Rise; thou art but dead,
  If this prove otherwise. Lidia, appear,
  And feast an appetite almost pined to death
  With longing expectation to behold
  Thy excellencies: thou, as beauty's queen,
  Shalt censure[92] the detractors. Let my nephew
  Be led in triumph under her command;
  We'll have it so; and Sanazarro tremble
  To think whom he hath slander'd. We'll retire
  Ourselves a little, and prepare to meet
  A blessing, which imagination tells us
  We are not worthy of: and then come forth,
  But with such reverence, as if I were
  Myself the priest, the sacrifice my heart,
  To offer at the altar of that goodness
  That must or kill or save me.          [_Exit._

  _Char._ Are not these
  Strange gambols in the duke?

  _Alph._ Great princes have,
  Like meaner men, their weakness.

  _Hip._ And may use it
  Without control or check.

  _Cont._ 'Tis fit they should;
  Their privilege were less else, than their subjects'.

  _Hier._ Let them have their humours; there's no crossing them.
      [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[90] _States_,] i. e. _statesmen_, _men of power_. A common
     acceptation of the word.

[91] _So constantly_,] i. e. _with such constancy_.

[92] _Censure._] It has been already observed, that this word is used
     by our old writers, where we should now use _judge_, and
     with the same latitude of meaning through its various
     acceptations.--GIFFORD.

                         SCENE III.

                _A State-room in the same._

_Enter_ FIORINDA, SANAZARRO, _and_ CALAMINTA.

  _Sanaz._ And can it be, your bounties should fall down
  In showers on my ingratitude, or the wrongs
  Your greatness should revenge, teach you to pity?
  What retribution can I make, what service
  Pay to your goodness, that, in some proportion,
  May to the world express I would be thankful?
  Since my engagements are so great, that all
  My best endeavours to appear your creature
  Can but proclaim my wants, and what I owe
  To your magnificence.

  _Fior._ All debts are discharged
  In this acknowledgment: yet, since you please
  I shall impose some terms of satisfaction
  For that which you profess yourself obliged for,
  They shall be gentle ones, and such as will not,
  I hope, afflict you.

  _Sanaz._ Make me understand,
  Great princess, what they are, and my obedience
  Shall, with all cheerful willingness, subscribe
  To what you shall command.

  _Fior._ I will bind you to
  Make good your promise. First, I then enjoin you
  To love a lady, that, a noble way,
  Truly affects you; and that you would take
  To your protection and care the dukedom
  Of Urbin, which no more is mine, but yours.
  And that, when you have full possession of
  My person as my fortune, you would use me,
  Not as a princess, but instruct me in
  The duties of an humble wife, for such,
  The privilege of my birth no more remember'd,
  I will be to you. This consented to,
  All injuries are forgotten.

  _Sanaz._ I am wretched,
  In having but one life to be employ'd
  As you please to dispose it. And, believe it,
  If it be not already forfeited
  To the fury of my prince, as 'tis your gift,
  With all the faculties of my soul I'll study,
  In what I may, to serve you.

  _Fior._ I am happy

_Enter_ GIOVANNI _and_ LIDIA.

  In this assurance. What sweet lady's this?

  _Sanaz._ 'Tis Lidia, madam, she----

  _Fior._ I understand you.
  Nay, blush not; by my life, she is a rare one!
  And, if I were your judge, I would not blame you
  To like and love her. But, sir, you are mine now;
  And I presume so on your constancy,
  That I dare not be jealous.

  _Sanaz._ All thoughts of her
  Are in your goodness buried.

  _Lid._ Pray you, sir,
  Be comforted; your innocence should not know
  What 'tis to fear; and if that you but look on
  The guards that you have in yourself, you cannot.
  The duke's your uncle, sir, and, though a little
  Incensed against you, when he sees your sorrow,
  He must be reconciled. What rugged Tartar,
  Or cannibal, though bathed in human gore,
  But, looking on your sweetness, would forget
  His cruel nature, and let fall his weapon,
  Though then aim'd at your throat?

  _Giov._ O Lidia,
  Of maids the honour, and your sex's glory!
  It is not fear to die, but to lose you,
  That brings this fever on me. I will now
  Discover to you, that which, till this minute,
  I durst not trust the air with. Ere you knew
  What power the magic of your beauty had,
  I was enchanted by it, liked, and loved it,
  My fondness still increasing with my years;
  And, flatter'd by false hopes, I did attend
  Some blessed opportunity to move
  The duke with his consent to make you mine:
  But now, such is my star-cross'd destiny,
  When he beholds you as you are, I may
  As well entreat him give away his crown,
  As to part from a jewel of more value.
  Yet, howsoever, when you are his duchess,
  And I am turn'd into forgotten dust,
  Pray you, love my memory:--I should say more,
  But I'm cut off.

_Enter_ COZIMO, CHAROMONTE, CONTARINO, HIERONIMO, HIPPOLITO, _and_
ALPHONSO.

  _Sanaz._ The duke! That countenance, once,
  When it was clothed in smiles, show'd like an angel's,
  But, now 'tis folded up in clouds of fury,
  'Tis terrible to look on.

  _Lid._ Sir.

  _Coz._ A while
  Silence your musical tongue, and let me feast
  My eyes with the most ravishing object that
  They ever gazed on. There's no miniature
  In her fair face, but is a copious theme
  Which would, discoursed at large of, make a volume.
  What clear arch'd brows! what sparkling eyes! the lilies
  Contending with the roses in her cheeks,
  Who shall most set them off. What ruby lips!--
  Or unto what can I compare her neck,
  But to a rock of crystal? every limb
  Proportion'd to love's wish, and in their neatness
  Add lustre to the riches of her habit,
  Not borrow from it.

  _Lid._ You are pleased to show, sir,
  The fluency of your language, in advancing
  A subject much unworthy.

  _Coz._ How! unworthy?
  By all the vows which lovers offer at
  The Cyprian goddess' altars, eloquence
  Itself presuming, as you are, to speak you,
  Would be struck dumb!--And what have you deserved then,
      [GIOVANNI _and_ SANAZARRO _kneel_.
  (Wretches, you kneel too late,) that have endeavour'd
  To spout the poison of your black detraction
  On this immaculate whiteness? Was it malice
  To her perfections? or----

  _Fior._ Your highness promised
  A gracious hearing to the count.

  _Lid._ And prince too:
  Do not make void so just a grant.

  _Coz._ We will not:
  Yet, since their accusation must be urged,
  And strongly, ere their weak defence have hearing,
  We seat you here, as judges, to determine
  Of your gross wrongs and ours. [_Seats the Ladies
      in the chairs of state._] And now, remembering
  Whose deputies you are, be neither sway'd
  Or with particular spleen, or foolish pity,
  For neither can become you.

  _Char._ There's some hope yet,
  Since they have such gentle judges.

  _Coz._ Rise, and stand forth, then,
  And hear, with horror to your guilty souls,
  What we will prove against you. Could this princess,
  Thou enemy to thyself, [_To_ SANAZARRO.] stoop her high flight
  Of towering greatness to invite thy lowness
  To look up to it, and with nimble wings
  Of gratitude couldst thou forbear to meet it?
  Were her favours boundless in a noble way,
  And warranted by our allowance, yet,
  In thy acceptation, there appear'd no sign
  Of a modest thankfulness?

  _Fior._ Pray you, forbear
  To press that further; 'tis a fault we have
  Already heard, and pardon'd.

  _Coz._ We will then
  Pass over it, and briefly touch at that
  Which does concern ourself; in which both being
  Equal offenders, what we shall speak points
  Indifferently at either. How we raised thee,
  Forgetful Sanazarro! of our grace,
  To a full possession of power and honours,
  It being too well known, we'll not remember.
  And what thou wert, rash youth, in expectation,
                                    [_To_ GIOVANNI.
  And from which headlong thou hast thrown thyself,
  Not Florence, but all Tuscany, can witness
  With admiration. To assure thy hopes,
  We did keep constant to a widow'd bed,
  And did deny ourself those lawful pleasures
  Our absolute power and height of blood allow'd us;
  Made both, the keys that open'd our heart's secrets,
  And what you spake, believed as oracles:
  But you, in recompense of this, to him
  That gave you all, to whom you owed your being,
  With treacherous lies endeavour'd to conceal
  This jewel from our knowledge, which ourself
  Could only lay just claim to.

  _Giov._ 'Tis most true, sir.

  _Sanaz._ We both confess a guilty cause.

  _Coz._ Look on her.
  Is this a beauty fit to be embraced
  By any subject's arms? can any tire
  Become that forehead but a diadem?
  Or, should we grant your being false to us
  Could be excused, your treachery to her,
  In seeking to deprive her of that greatness
  (Her matchless worth consider'd) she was born to,
  Must ne'er find pardon. We have spoken, ladies,
  Like a rough orator, that brings more truth
  Than rhetoric to make good his accusation;
  And now expect your sentence.
            [_The Ladies descend from the state[93]._

  _Lid._ In your birth, sir,
  You were mark'd out the judge of life and death,
  And we, that are your subjects, to attend,
  With trembling fear, your doom.

  _Fior._ We do resign
  This chair, as only proper to yourself.

  _Giov._ And, since injustice we are lost, we fly
  Unto your saving mercy.                 [_All kneeling._

  _Sanaz._ Which sets off
  A prince much more than rigour.

  _Char._ And becomes him,
  When 'tis express'd to such as fell by weakness,
  That being a twin-born brother to affection,
  Better than wreaths of conquest.

  _Hier. Hip. Cont. Alph._ We all speak
  Their language, mighty sir.

  _Coz._ You know our temper,
  And therefore with more boldness venture on it:
  And, would not our consent to your demands
  Deprive us of a happiness hereafter
  Ever to be despair'd of, we, perhaps,
  Might hearken nearer to you; and could wish
  With some qualification, or excuse,
  You might make less the mountains of your crimes,
  And so invite our clemency to feast with you.
  But you, that knew with what impatiency
  Of grief we parted from the fair Clarinda,
  Our duchess, (let her memory still be sacred!)
  And with what imprecations on ourself
  We vow'd, not hoping e'er to see her equal,
  Ne'er to make trial of a second choice,
  If nature framed not one that did excel her,
  As this maid's beauty prompts us that she does:--
  And yet, with oaths then mix'd with tears, upon
  Her monument we swore our eye should never
  Again be tempted;--'tis true, and those vows
  Are register'd above, something here tells me.--
  Carolo, thou heard'st us swear.

  _Char._ And swear so deeply,
  That if all women's beauties were in this,
  (As she's not to be named with the dead duchess,)
  Nay, all their virtues bound up in one story,
  (Of which mine is scarce an epitome,)
  If you should take her as a wife, the weight
  Of your perjuries would sink you. If I durst,
  I had told you this before.

  _Coz._ 'Tis strong truth, Carolo:
  And yet what was necessity in us
  Cannot free them from treason.

  _Char._ There's your error:
  The prince, in care to have you keep your vows
  Made unto Heaven, vouchsafed to love my daughter[94].

  Surely Massinger intended that his characters should here be
  understood as speaking the truth. The contrivance by which
  he exculpates Giovanni is a clumsy one; but he was anxious
  to conclude his play, and took the first that suggested itself.
  Awkward as it may appear to the reader, it has, perhaps,
  quite enough dramatic probability to satisfy an audience

  _Lid._ He told me so, indeed, sir.

  _Fior._ And the count
  Averr'd as much to me.

  _Cos._ You all conspire,
  To force our mercy from us.

  _Char._ Which given up,
  To aftertimes preserves you unforsworn:
  An honour which will live upon your tomb
  When your greatness is forgotten.

  _Coz._ Though we know
  All this is practice[95], and that both are false,
  Such reverence we will pay to dead Clarinda,
  And to our serious oaths, that we are pleased
  With our own hand to blind our eyes, and not
  Know what we understand. Here, Giovanni,
  We pardon thee; and take from us, in this,
  More than our dukedom: love her. As I part
  With her, all thoughts of women fly fast from us.
  Sanazarro, we forgive you: in your service
  To this princess, merit it. Yet let not others
  That are in trust and grace, as you have been,
  By the example of our lenity,
  Presume upon their sovereign's clemency.

_Enter_ CALANDRINO _and_ PETRONELLA.

  _All._ Long live great Cozimo!

  _Cal._ Sure the duke is
  In the giving vein, they are so loud. Come on, spouse;
  We have heard all, and we will have our boon too.

  _Coz._ What is it?

  _Cal._ That your grace, in remembrance of
  My share in a dance, and that I play'd your part
  When you should have drunk hard, would get this signior's grant
  To give this damsel to me in the church,
  For we are contracted. In it you shall do
  Your dukedom pleasure.

  _Coz._ How?

  _Cal._ Why, the whole race
  Of such as can act naturally fools' parts
  Are quite worn out; and they that do survive
  Do only zany us: and we will bring you,
  If we die not without issue, of both sexes
  Such chopping mirth-makers, as shall preserve
  Perpetual cause of sport, both to your grace
  And your posterity, that sad melancholy
  Shall ne'er approach you.

  _Coz._ We are pleased in it,
  And will pay her portion.----[_Comes forward._
                            _May the passage prove,
  Of what's presented, worthy of your love
  And favour, as was aim'd; and we have all
  That can in compass of our wishes fall._      [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[93] _The state_,] i. e. _the raised platform on which the chairs were
     placed_.

[94] _The prince, in care to have you keep your vows Made unto Heaven,
     vouchsafed to love my daughter._] This attempt to impose upon the
     great duke is more deplorable than the former. It has falsehood
     and improbability written on its face. The duke, indeed, is not
     deceived by it; but surely the author showed a strange want of
     judgment in this gratuitous degradation of three of his most
     estimable characters.--GIFFORD.

[95] _Practice_,] i. e. _artifice, or insidious combination_.

                        THE BONDMAN.

The Bondman was performed, as we learn from the Office-book of Sir
Henry Herbert, Master of the Revels, at the Cockpit in Drury-lane,
December 3, 1623. It was printed the following year, and again in
1638.

The main incident of the plot is taken from the life of Timoleon, as
related by Plutarch. The revolt and subsequent reduction of the slaves
to their duty may have been taken either from Herodotus or Justin, or
Purchas's Pilgrim. The artifice by which they are quelled is silly and
unnatural, and its introduction degrades a very beautifully managed
plot.

The play was revived in 1660 by Betterton, who played Pisander; and
several alterations of it have since been produced, but without
success.

Our author never writes with more effect than when he combines his own
fancy with real history; and in The Bondman he has produced a piece
which is, with few exceptions, at once stately and playful, impressive
and tender. He matures the love under the cover of the history; till
at length the interest changes, and the history becomes subordinate to
the love.

The characters are drawn with much variety and interest. The modest
gravity and self-command of Timoleon well agrees with the ancient
descriptions of the man from whose mouth _nihil unquam insolens, neque
gloriosum exiit_.

     TO

     THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, MY SINGULAR GOOD LORD,

     PHILIP, EARL OF MONTGOMERY,

     KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBLE ORDER OF THE GARTER, &C.

     RIGHT HONOURABLE,

     However I could never arrive at the happiness to be made known to
     your lordship, yet a desire, born with me, to make a tender of
     all duties and service to the noble family of the Herberts,
     descended to me as an inheritance from my dead father, Arthur
     Massinger. Many years he happily spent in the service of your
     honourable house, and died a servant to it; leaving his to be
     ever most glad and ready to be at the command of all such as
     derive themselves from his most honoured master, your lordship's
     most noble father. The consideration of this encouraged me
     (having no other means to present my humblest service to your
     honour) to shroud this trifle under the wings of your noble
     protection; and I hope, out of the clemency of your heroic
     disposition, it will find, though perhaps not a welcome
     entertainment, yet, at the worst, a gracious pardon. When it was
     first acted, your lordship's liberal suffrage taught others to
     allow it for current, it having received the undoubted stamp of
     your lordship's allowance: and if in the perusal of any vacant
     hour, when your honour's more serious occasions shall give you
     leave to read it, it answer, in your lordship's judgment, the
     report and opinion it had upon the stage, I shall esteem my
     labours not ill employed, and, while I live, continue

                             the humblest of those that
                                     truly honour your lordship,
                                                   PHILIP MASSINGER.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

  TIMOLEON, _the general, of Corinth_.
  ARCHIDAMUS, _prætor of Syracusa_.
  DIPHILUS, _a senator of Syracusa_.
  CLEON, _a fat foolish lord_.
  MARULLO, _the Bondman_ (_i. e._ PISANDER, _a gentleman of
      Thebes, disguised as a slave_).
  POLIPHRON, _friend to_ MARULLO, _also disguised as a slave_.
  LEOSTHENES, _a gentleman of Syracusa, enamoured of_ CLEORA.
  ASOTUS, _a foolish lover, and the son of_ CLEON.
  TIMAGORAS, _the son of_ ARCHIDAMUS.
  GRACCULO, }  _slaves._
  CIMBRIO,  }
  _A Gaoler._

  CLEORA, _daughter of_ ARCHIDAMUS.
  CORISCA, _a proud lady, wife to_ CLEON.
  OLYMPIA, _a rich widow_.
  TIMANDRA, _slave to_ CLEORA (_i. e._ STATILIA, _sister to_ PISANDER).
  ZANTHIA, _slave to_ CORISCA.

  _Other Slaves, Soldiers, Officers, Senators._

SCENE, Syracuse, and the adjacent country.

                        THE BONDMAN.

                       ACT I. SCENE I.

          _The Camp of_ TIMOLEON, _near Syracuse_.

_Enter_ TIMAGORAS _and_ LEOSTHENES.

  _Timag._ Why should you droop, Leosthenes, or despair
  My sister's favour? What, before, you purchased
  By courtship and fair language, in these wars
  (For from her soul you know she loves a soldier)
  You may deserve by action.

  _Leost._ Good Timagoras,
  When I have said my friend, think all is spoken
  That may assure me yours; and pray you believe,
  The dreadful voice of war that shakes the city,
  The thundering threats of Carthage, nor their army
  Raised to make good those threats, affright not me.--
  If fair Cleora were confirm'd his prize
  That has the strongest arm and sharpest sword,
  I'd court Bellona in her horrid trim,
  As if she were a mistress; and bless fortune,
  That offers my young valour to the proof,
  How much I dare do for your sister's love.
  But, when that I consider how averse
  Your noble father, great Archidamus,
  Is, and hath ever been, to my desires,
  Reason may warrant me to doubt and fear,
  What seeds soever I sow in these wars
  Of noble courage, his determinate will
  May blast, and give my harvest to another,
  That never toil'd for it.

  _Timag._ Prithee, do not nourish
  These jealous thoughts; I am thine, (and pardon me,
  Though I repeat it,) thy Timagoras,
  That, for thy sake, when the bold Theban sued,
  Far-famed Pisander, for my sister's love,
  Sent him disgraced and discontented home.
  I wrought my father then; and I, that stopp'd not
  In the career of my affection to thee,
  When that renowned worthy, that brought with him
  High birth, wealth, courage, as feed advocates
  To mediate for him; never will consent
  A fool, that only has the shape of man,
  Asotus, though he be rich Cleon's heir,
  Shall bear her from thee.

  _Leost._ In that trust I love.

  _Timag._ Which never shall deceive you.

_Enter_ MARULLO.

  _Mar._ Sir, the general,
  Timoleon, by his trumpets hath given warning
  For a remove.

  _Timag._ 'Tis well; provide my horse.

  _Mar._ I shall, sir.          [_Exit._

  _Leost._ This slave has a strange aspect.

  _Timag._ Fit for his fortune; 'tis a strong-limb'd knave:
  My father bought him for my sister's litter.
  O pride of women! Coaches are too common--
  They surfeit in the happiness of peace,
  And ladies think they keep not state enough,
  If, for their pomp and ease[96], they are not borne
  In triumph on men's shoulders.

  _Leost._ Who commands
  The Carthaginian fleet?

  _Timag._ Gisco's their admiral,
  And 'tis our happiness; a raw young fellow,
  One never train'd in arms, but rather fashion'd
  To tilt with ladies' lips, than crack a lance;
  Ravish a feather from a mistress' fan[97],
  And wear it as a favour. A steel helmet,
  Made horrid with a glorious plume, will crack
  His woman's neck.

  _Leost._ No more of him.--The motives,
  That Corinth gives us aid?

  _Timag._ The common danger;
  For Sicily being afire, she is not safe:
  It being apparent that ambitious Carthage,
  That, to enlarge her empire, strives to fasten
  An unjust gripe on us that live free lords
  Of Syracusa, will not end, till Greece
  Acknowledge her their sovereign.

  _Leost._ I am satisfied.
  What think you of our general?

  _Timag._ He's a man        [_Trumpets within._
  Of strange and reserved parts; but a great soldier.
  His trumpets call us, I'll forbear his character:
  To-morrow, in the senate-house, at large
  He will express himself.

  _Leost._ I'll follow you.      [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[96] _If, for their pomp and ease_, &c.] Mr. Gilchrist thinks (and I
     believe rightly) that Massinger, who evidently regarded the Duke
     of Buckingham with no favourable eye, here reflects on the use of
     sedan-chairs, which his grace first introduced, from Spain, about
     this period. They were carried, as Massinger says, "on men's
     shoulders," and the novelty provoked no small displeasure against
     the favourite, who, in thus employing his servants, was charged,
     by the writers of those times, with "degrading Englishmen into
     slaves and beasts of burden, to gratify his inordinate
     vanity."--GIFFORD.

[97] _Fan._] The fan of our ancestors was not at all in the shape of
     the implement now used under the same name, but more like a
     hand-skreen. It had a roundish handle, and was frequently composed
     of feathers.

                          SCENE II.

                _Syracuse. The Senate-house._

_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS, CLEON, DIPHILUS, OLYMPIA, CORISCA, CLEORA, _and_
ZANTHIA.

  _Archid._ So careless we have been, my noble lords,
  In the disposing of our own affairs,
  And ignorant in the art of government,
  That now we need a stranger to instruct us.
  Yet we are happy that our neighbour Corinth,
  Pitying the unjust gripe Carthage would lay
  On Syracusa, hath vouchsafed to lend us
  Her man of men, Timoleon, to defend
  Our country and our liberties.

  _Diph._ 'Tis a favour
  We are unworthy of, and we may blush
  Necessity compels us to receive it.

  _Archid._ O shame! that we, that are a populous nation,
  Engaged to liberal nature for all blessings
  An island can bring forth; we, that have limbs,
  And able bodies; shipping, arms, and treasure,
  The sinews of the war, now we are call'd
  To stand upon our guard, cannot produce
  One fit to be our general.

  _Cleon._ I am old and fat;
  I could say something, else.

  _Archid._ We must obey
  The time and our occasions; ruinous buildings,
  Whose bases and foundations are infirm,
  Must use supporters: we are circled round
  With danger; o'er our heads, with sail-stretch'd wings,
  Destruction hovers, and a cloud of mischief
  Ready to break upon us; no hope left us
  That may divert it, but our sleeping virtue,
  Roused up by brave Timoleon.

  _Cleon._ When arrives he?

  _Diph._ He is expected every hour.

  _Archid._ The braveries[98]
  Of Syracusa, among whom my son,
  Timagoras, Leosthenes, and Asotus,
  Your hopeful heir, lord Cleon, two days since
  Rode forth to meet him, and attend him to
  The city; every minute we expect
  To be bless'd with his presence.
       [_Shouts within; then a flourish of trumpets._

  _Cleon._ What shout's this?

  _Diph._ 'Tis seconded with loud music.

  _Archid._ Which confirms
  His wish'd-for entrance. Let us entertain him
  With all respect, solemnity, and pomp,
  A man may merit, that comes to redeem us
  From slavery and oppression.

  _Cleon._ I'll lock up
  My doors, and guard my gold: these lads of Corinth
  Have nimble fingers, and I fear them more,
  Being within our walls, than those of Carthage;
  They are far off.

  _Archid._ And, ladies, be it your care
  To welcome him and his followers with all duty:
  For rest resolved, their hands and swords must keep you
  In that full height of happiness you live;
  A dreadful change else follows.
      [_Exeunt_ ARCHIDAMUS, CLEON, _and_ DIPHILUS.

  _Olymp._ We are instructed.

  _Coris._ Musing, Cleora?

  _Olymp._ She's studying how to entertain these strangers,
  And to engross them to herself.

  _Cleor._ No, surely.

  _Olymp._ No more; they come.

_Flourish of trumpets. Enter_ TIMAGORAS, LEOSTHENES, ASOTUS, TIMOLEON
_in black, led in by_ ARCHIDAMUS, DIPHILUS, _and_ CLEON; _followed by_
MARULLO, GRACCULO, CIMBRIO, _and other Slaves_.

  _Archid._ It is your seat: which, with a general suffrage,
      [_Offering_ TIMOLEON _the state_[99].
  As to the supreme magistrate, Sicily tenders,
  And prays Timoleon to accept.

  _Timol._ Such honours
  To one ambitious of rule[100] or titles,
  Whose heaven on earth is placed in his command,
  And absolute power o'er others, would with joy,
  And veins swollen high with pride, be entertain'd.
  They take not me; for I have ever loved
  An equal freedom, and proclaim'd all such
  As would usurp on others' liberties
  Rebels to nature, to whose bounteous blessings
  All men lay claim as true legitimate sons:
  But such as have made forfeit of themselves
  By vicious courses, and their birthright lost,
  'Tis not injustice they are mark'd for slaves,
  To serve the virtuous. For myself, I know
  Honours and great employments are great burdens,
  And must require an Atlas to support them.
  He that would govern others, first should be
  The master of himself, richly endued
  With depth of understanding, height of courage,
  And those remarkable graces which I dare not
  Ascribe unto myself.

  _Archid._ Sir, empty men
  Are trumpets of their own deserts; but you,
  That are not in opinion, but in proof,
  Really good, and full of glorious parts,
  Leave the report of what you are to fame,
  Which, from the ready tongues of all good men,
  Aloud proclaims you.

  _Diph._ Besides, you stand bound,
  Having so large a field to exercise
  Your active virtues offer'd you, to impart
  Your strength to such as need it.

  _Timol._ 'Tis confess'd;
  And, since you'll have it so, such as I am,
  For you, and for the liberty of Greece,
  I am most ready to lay down my life:
  But yet consider, men of Syracusa,
  Before that you deliver up the power,
  Which yet is yours, to me,--to whom 'tis given;
  To an impartial man, with whom nor threats
  Nor prayers shall prevail; for I must steer
  An even course.

  _Archid._ Which is desired of all.

  _Timol._ Timophanes, my brother[101], for whose death
  I am tainted in the world, and foully tainted;
  In whose remembrance I have ever worn,
  In peace and war, this livery of sorrow;
  Can witness for me how much I detest
  Tyrannous usurpation. With grief
  I must remember it; for when no persuasion
  Could win him to desist from his bad practice,
  To change the aristocracy of Corinth
  Into an absolute monarchy, I chose rather
  To prove a pious and obedient son
  To my country, my best mother[102], than to lend
  Assistance to Timophanes, though my brother,
  That, like a tyrant, strove to set his foot
  Upon the city's freedom.

  _Timag._ 'Twas a deed
  Deserving rather trophies than reproof.

  _Leost._ And will be still remember'd to your honour,
  If you forsake not us.

  _Diph._ If you free Sicily
  From barbarous Carthage' yoke[103], it will be said
  In him you slew a tyrant.

  _Archid._ But, giving way
  To her invasion, not vouchsafing us
  That fly to your protection aid and comfort,
  'Twill be believed that, for your private ends,
  You kill'd a brother.

  _Timol._ As I then proceed,
  To all posterity may that act be crown'd
  With a deserved applause, or branded with
  The mark of infamy.--Stay yet: ere I take
  This seat of justice, or engage myself
  To fight for you abroad, or to reform
  Your state at home, swear all upon my sword,
  And call the gods of Sicily to witness
  The oath you take, that whatsoe'er I shall
  Propound for safety of your commonwealth,
  Not circumscribed or bound in, shall by you
  Be willingly obey'd.

  _Archid. Diph. Cleon._ So may we prosper,
  As we obey in all things!

  _Timag. Leost. Asot._ And observe
  All your commands as oracles!

  _Timol._ Do not repent it.      [_Takes the state._

  _Olymp._ He ask'd not our consent.

  _Coris._ He's a clown, I warrant him.

  _Olymp._ He thinks women
  No part of the republic.

  _Coris._ He shall find
  We are a commonwealth.

  _Cleo._ The less your honour.

  _Timol._ First, then, a word or two, but without bitterness,
  (And yet mistake me not, I am no flatterer,)
  Concerning your ill government of the state;
  In which the greatest, noblest, and most rich,
  Stand, in the first file, guilty.

  _Cleon._ Ha! how's this?

  _Timol._ You have not, as good patriots should do, studied
  The public good, but your particular ends;
  Factious among yourselves, preferring such
  To offices and honours, as ne'er read
  The elements of saving policy,
  But deeply skill'd in all the principles
  That usher to destruction.

  _Leost._ Sharp!

  _Timag._ The better.

  _Timol._ Your senate-house, which used not to admit
  A man, however popular, to stand
  At the helm of government, whose youth was not
  Made glorious by action; whose experience,
  Crown'd with gray hairs, gave warrant to his counsels,
  Heard and received with reverence; is now fill'd
  With green heads, that determine of the state
  Over their cups, or when their sated lusts
  Afford them leisure; or supplied by those
  Who, rising from base arts and sordid thrift,
  Are eminent for their wealth, not for their wisdom:
  Which is the reason that to hold a place
  In council, which was once esteem'd an honour,
  And a reward for virtue, hath quite lost
  Lustre and reputation, and is made
  A mercenary purchase.

  _Timag._ He speaks home.

  _Leost._ And to the purpose.

  _Timol._ From whence it proceeds,
  That the treasure of the city is engross'd
  By a few private men, the public coffers
  Hollow with want; and they, that will not spare
  One talent for the common good, to feed
  The pride and bravery of their wives, consume,
  In plate, in jewels, and superfluous slaves,
  What would maintain an army.

  _Coris._ Have at us!

  _Olymp._ We thought we were forgot.

  _Cleo._ But it appears
  You will be treated of.

  _Timol._ Yet, in this plenty,
  And fat of peace, your young men ne'er were train'd
  In martial discipline; and your ships unrigg'd
  Rot in the harbour: no defence prepared,
  But thought unuseful; as if that the gods,
  Indulgent to your sloth, had granted you
  A perpetuity of pride and pleasure,
  No change fear'd or expected. Now you find
  That Carthage, looking on your stupid sleeps
  And dull security, was invited to
  Invade your territories.

  _Archid._ You have made us see, sir,
  To our shame, the country's sickness: now from you,
  As from a careful and a wise physician,
  We do expect the cure.

  _Timol._ Old fester'd sores
  Must be lanced to the quick, and cauterized;
  Which borne with patience, after I'll apply
  Soft unguents. For the maintenance of the war,
  It is decreed all moneys in the hand
  Of private men shall instantly be brought
  To the public treasury.

  _Timag._ This bites sore.

  _Cleon._ The cure
  Is worse than the disease; I'll never yield to 't:
  What could the enemy, though victorious,
  Inflict more on us? All that my youth hath toil'd for,
  Purchased with industry, and preserved with care,
  Forced from me in a moment!

  _Diph._ This rough course
  Will never be allow'd of.

  _Timol._ O blind men!
  If you refuse the first means that is offer'd
  To give you health, no hope's left to recover
  Your desperate sickness. Do you prize your muck
  Above your liberties? and rather choose
  To be made bondmen, than to part with that
  To which already you are slaves? Or can it
  Be probable, in your flattering apprehensions,
  You can capitulate with the conquerors,
  And keep that yours which they come to possess,
  And, while you kneel in vain, will ravish from you?
  --But take your own ways; brood upon your gold.
  Sacrifice to your idol, and preserve
  The prey entire, and merit the report
  Of careful stewards: yield a just account
  To your proud masters, who, with whips of iron,
  Will force you to give up what you conceal,
  Or tear it from your throats: adorn your walls
  With Persian hangings wrought of gold and pearl;
  Cover the floors on which they are to tread
  With costly Median silks; perfume the rooms
  With cassia and amber, where they are
  To feast and revel; while, like servile grooms,
  You wait upon their trenchers: feed their eyes
  With massy plate, until your cupboards crack
  With the weight that they sustain; and, to perfect
  Their entertainment, offer up your sons
  And able men for slaves; while you, that are
  Unfit for labour, are spurn'd out to starve,
  Unpitied, in some desert, no friend by,
  Whose sorrow may spare one compassionate tear
  In the remembrance of what once you were.

  _Leost._ The blood turns.

  _Timag._ Observe how old Cleon shakes,
  As if in picture he had shown him what
  He was to suffer.

  _Coris._ I am sick: the man
  Speaks poniards and diseases.

  _Olymp._ O my doctor!
  I never shall recover.

  _Cleo._ [_coming forward._] If a virgin,
  Whose speech was ever yet usher'd with fear,
  One knowing modesty and humble silence
  To be the choicest ornaments of our sex,
  In the presence of so many reverend men
  Struck dumb with terror and astonishment,
  Presume to clothe her thought in vocal sounds,
  Let her find pardon. First to you, great sir,
  A bashful maid's thanks, and her zealous prayers
  Wing'd with pure innocence, bearing them to heaven,
  For all prosperity that the gods can give
  To one whose piety must exact their care,
  Thus low I offer.

  _Timol._ 'Tis a happy omen.
  Rise, blest one, and speak boldly. On my virtue,
  I am thy warrant from so clear a spring
  Sweet rivers ever flow.

  _Cleo._ Then, thus to you,
  My noble father, and these lords, to whom
  I next owe duty: no respect forgotten
  To you, my brother, and these bold young men,
  (Such I would have them,) that are, or should he,
  The city's sword and target of defence.
  To all of you I speak; and, if a blush
  Steal on my cheeks, it is shown to reprove
  Your paleness, willingly I would not say,
  Your cowardice or fear: Think you all treasure
  Hid in the bowels of the earth, or shipwreck'd
  In Neptune's wat'ry kingdom, can hold weight,
  When liberty and honour fill one scale,
  Triumphant Justice sitting on the beam?
  Or dare you but imagine that your gold is
  Too dear a salary for such as hazard
  Their blood and lives in your defence? For me,
  An ignorant girl, bear witness, heaven! so far
  I prize a soldier, that, to give him pay,
  With such devotion as our flamens offer
  Their sacrifices at the holy altar,
  I do lay down these jewels, will make sale
  Of my superfluous wardrobe, to supply
  The meanest of their wants.
     [_Lays down her jewels, &c.; the rest follow her example._

  _Timol._ Brave masculine spirit!

  _Diph._ We are shown, to our shame, what we in honour
  Should have taught others.

  _Archid._ Such a fair example
  Must needs be follow'd.

  _Timag._ Ever my dear sister,
  But now our family's glory!

  _Leost._ Were she deform'd,
  The virtues of her mind would force a stoic
  To sue to be her servant.

  _Cleon._ I must yield;
  And, though my heart-blood part with it, I will
  Deliver in my wealth.

  _Asot._ I would say something;
  But, the truth is, I know not what.

  _Timol._ We have money;
  And men must now be thought on.

  _Archid._ We can press
  Of labourers in the country, men inured
  To cold and heat, ten thousand.

  _Diph._ Or, if need be,
  Enrol our slaves, lusty and able varlets,
  And fit for service.

  _Cleon._ They shall go for me;
  I will not pay and fight too.

  _Cleo._ How! your slaves?
  O stain of honour!----Once more, sir, your pardon;
  And, to their shames, let me deliver what
  I know in justice you may speak.

  _Timol._ Most gladly:
  I could not wish my thoughts a better organ
  Than your tongue, to express them.

  _Cleo._ Are you men!
  (For age may qualify, though not excuse,
  The backwardness of these,) able young men!
  Yet, now your country's liberty's at the stake,
  Honour and glorious triumph made the garland
  For such as dare deserve them; a rich feast
  Prepared by Victory, of immortal viands,
  Not for base men, but such as with their swords
  Dare force admittance, and will be her guests:
  And can you coldly suffer such rewards
  To be proposed to labourers and slaves?
  While you, that are born noble, to whom these,
  Valued at their best rate, are next to horses,
  Or other beasts of carriage, cry aim[104]!
  Like idle lookers on, till their proud worth
  Make them become your masters!

  _Timol._ By my hopes,
  There's fire and spirit enough in this to make
  Thersites valiant.

  _Cleo._ No; far, far be it from you:
  Let these of meaner quality contend
  Who can endure most labour; plough the earth,
  And think they are rewarded when their toil
  Brings home a fruitful harvest to their lords;
  Let them prove good artificers, and serve you
  For use and ornament, but not presume
  To touch at what is noble. If you think them
  Unworthy to taste of those cates you feed on,
  Or wear such costly garments, will you grant them
  The privilege and prerogative of great minds,
  Which you were born to? Honour won in war,
  And to be styled preservers of their country,
  Are titles fit for free and generous spirits,
  And not for bondmen. Had I been born a man,
  And such ne'er-dying glories made the prize
  To bold heroic courage, by Diana,
  I would not to my brother, nay, my father,
  Be bribed to part with the least piece of honour
  I should gain in this action!

  _Timol._ She's inspired,
  Or in her speaks the genius of your country,
  To fire your blood in her defence: I am rapt
  With the imagination. Noble maid,
  Timoleon is your soldier, and will sweat
  Drops of his best blood, but he will bring home
  Triumphant conquest to you. Let me wear
  Your colours, lady; and though youthful heats,
  That look no further than your outward form,
  Are long since buried in me; while I live,
  I am a constant lover of your mind,
  That does transcend all precedents.

  _Cleo._ 'Tis an honour,      [_Gives her scarf._
  And so I do receive it.

  _Leost._ I am for the journey.

  _Timag._ May all diseases sloth and luxury bring
  Fall upon him that stays at home!

  _Archid._ Though old,
  I will be there in person.

  _Diph._ So will I:
  Methinks I am not what I was; her words
  Have made me younger, by a score of years,
  Than I was when I came hither.

  _Cleon._ I shall never
  Make a good soldier, and therefore desire
  To be excused at home.

  _Asot._ 'Tis my suit too.

  _Timol._ Have your desires; you would be burthens to us.--
  Lead, fairest, to the temple; first we'll pay
  A sacrifice to the gods for good success:
  For all great actions the wish'd course do run,
  That are, with their allowance, well begun.
             [_Exeunt all but_, MAR. GRAC. _and_ CIMB.

  _Mar._ Stay, Cimbrio and Gracculo.

  _Cimb._ The business?

  _Mar._ Meet me to-morrow night near to the grove,
  Neighbouring the east part of the city.

  _Grac._ Well.

  _Mar._ And bring the rest of our condition with you:
  I've something to impart may break our fetters,
  If you dare second me.

  _Cimb._ We'll not fail.

  _Grac._ A cart-rope
  Shall not bind me at home.

  _Mar._ Think on 't, and prosper.      [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[98] _The braveries_,] i. e. _the gay and fashionable gallants of the
     town_.

[99] _The state._] This was a raised platform, on which was placed a
     chair with a canopy over it. The word occurs perpetually in our
     old writers. It is used by Dryden, but seems to have been growing
     obsolete while he was writing: in the first edition of Mac
     Fleckno, the monarch is placed on a _state_; in the subsequent
     ones, he is seated like his fellow kings, on a throne: it occurs
     also, and I believe for the last time, in Swift: "As she affected
     not the grandeur of a _state_ with a canopy, she thought there was
     no offence in an elbow chair."--_Hist. of John Bull_, c.
     i.--GIFFORD.

[100] --------_Such honours
      To one ambitious of rule_, &c.] Massinger has here finely drawn
      the character of Timoleon, and been very true to history. He was
      descended from one of the noblest families in Corinth, loved his
      country passionately, and discovered upon all occasions a singular
      humanity of temper, except against tyrants and bad men. He was an
      excellent captain; and as in his youth he had all the maturity of
      age, in age he had all the fire and courage of the most ardent
      youth.--COXETER.

[101] Timol. _Timophanes, my brother_, &c.] Timoleon had an elder
      brother, called Timophanes, whom he tenderly loved, as he had
      demonstrated in a battle, in which he covered him with his body,
      and saved his life at the great danger of his own. But his country
      was still dearer to him. That brother having made himself tyrant
      of it, so black a crime gave him the sharpest affliction. He made
      use of all possible means to bring him back to his duty: kindness,
      friendship, affection, remonstrances, and even menaces. But
      finding all his endeavours ineffectual, and that nothing could
      prevail upon a heart abandoned to ambition he caused his brother
      to be assassinated by two of his friends and intimates, and
      thought that upon such an occasion the laws of nature ought to
      give place to those of his country.--COXETER.

[102] _To my country, my best mother._] In this expression Timoleon
      alludes to the conduct of his natural mother, who would never see
      him after the assassination of his brother, and always, as
      Cornelius Nepos informs us, called him _fratricidam,
      impiumque_.--GIFFORD.

[103] Diph. _If you free Sicily From barbarous Carthage' yoke_, &c.]
      This speech and the next are literally from Plutarch. Massinger
      has in this instance adhered more closely to his story than
      usual.--GIFFORD.

[104] _Cry aim!_] i. e. _encourage them_, as the bystanders do those
      who are about to shoot at a trial of skill in archery.

                       ACT II. SCENE I.

          _The same. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS, TIMAGORAS, LEOSTHENES, _with gorgets; and_
MARULLO.

  _Archid._ So, so, 'tis well: how do I look?

  _Mar._ Most sprightfully.

  _Archid._ I shrink not in the shoulders; though I'm old
  I'm tough, steel to the back; I have not wasted
  My stock of strength in featherbeds: here's an arm too;
  There's stuff in 't, and I hope will use a sword
  As well as any beardless boy of you all.

  _Timag._ I'm glad to see you, sir, so well prepared
  To endure the travail of the war.

  _Archid._ Go to, sirrah!
  I shall endure, when some of you keep your cabins,
  For all your flaunting feathers; nay, Leosthenes,
  You are welcome too[105], all friends and fellows now.

  _Leost._ Your servant, sir.

  _Archid._ Pish! leave these compliments,
  They stink in a soldier's mouth; I could be merry,
  For, now my gown's off, farewell gravity[106]!
  I fear ye, when you come to the test.--Old stories tell us,
  There's a month call'd October[107], which brings in
  Cold weather; there are trenches too, 'tis rumour'd,
  In which to stand all night to the knees in water,
  In gallants breeds the toothach; there's a sport too,
  Named _lying perdue_, do you mark me? 'tis a game
  Which you must learn to play at: now in these seasons,
  And choice variety of exercises,
  (Nay, I come to you,) and fasts, not for devotion,
  Your rambling youngster feels strange alterations;
  And in a frosty morning.----O welcome! welcome!

_Enter_ DIPHILUS _and_ CLEORA.

  You have cut off my discourse; but I will perfect
  My lecture in the camp.

  _Diph._ Come, we are stay'd for;
  The general's afire for a remove,
  And longs to be in action.

  _Archid._ 'Tis my wish too.
  We must part--nay, no tears, my best Cleora;
  I shall melt too, and that were ominous.
  Millions of blessings on thee! All that's mine
  I give up to thy charge; and, sirrah, look
                                     [_To_ MARULLO.
  You with that care and reverence observe her,
  Which you would pay to me.--A kiss; farewell, girl!

  _Diph._ Peace wait upon you, fair one!
   [_Exeunt_ ARCHIDAMUS, DIPHILUS, _and_ MARULLO.

  _Timag._ 'Twere impertinence
  To wish you to be careful of your honour,
  That ever keep in pay a guard about you
  Of faithful virtues: farewell!--Friend, I leave you
  To wipe our kisses off; I know that lovers
  Part with more circumstance and ceremony:
  Which I give way to.                     [_Exit._

  _Leost._ 'Tis a noble favour,
  For which I ever owe you. We are alone;
  But how I should begin, or in what language
  Speak the unwilling word of parting from you,
  I am yet to learn.

  _Cleo._ And still continue ignorant;
  For I must be most cruel to myself,
  If I should teach you.

  _Leost._ Yet it must be spoken,
  Or you will chide my slackness. You have fired me
  With the heat of noble action to deserve you;
  And the least spark of honour that took life
  From your sweet breath, still fann'd by it and cherish'd,
  Must mount up in a glorious flame, or I
  Am much unworthy.

  _Cleo._ May it not burn here[108],
  And, as a seamark, serve to guide true lovers
  Safe from the rocks of passion to the harbour
  Of pure affection? rising up an example
  Which aftertimes shall witness, to our glory,
  First took from us beginning.

  _Leost._ 'Tis a happiness
  My duty to my country, and mine honour
  Cannot consent to; besides, add to these,
  It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion,
  And strength of reason, for the general good,
  That I should go.

  _Cleo._ Alas! I then was witty
  To plead against myself; and mine eye, fix'd
  Upon the hill of honour, ne'er descended
  To look into the vale of certain dangers,
  Through which you were to cut your passage to it.

  _Leost._ I'll stay at home, then.

  _Cleo._ No, that must not be;
  For so, to serve my own ends, and to gain
  A petty wreath myself, I rob you of
  A certain triumph, which must fall upon you,
  Or Virtue's turn'd a handmaid to blind Fortune.
  How is my soul divided! to confirm you
  In the opinion of the world, most worthy
  To be beloved, (with me you're at the height,
  And can advance no further,) I must send you
  To court the goddess of stern war, who, if
  She see you with my eyes, will ne'er return you,
  But grow enamour'd of you.

  _Leost._ Sweet, take comfort!
  And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me,
  Or I am wretched. All the dangers that
  I can encounter in the war are trifles;
  My enemies abroad to be contemn'd:
  The dreadful foes, that have the power to hurt me,
  I leave at home with you.

  _Cleo._ With me!

  _Leost._ Nay, in you,
  In every part about you, they are arm'd
  To fight against me.

  _Cleo._ Where?

  _Leost._ There's no perfection
  That you are mistress of, but musters up
  A legion against me, and all sworn
  To my destruction.

  _Cleo._ This is strange!

  _Leost._ But true, sweet;
  Excess of love can work such miracles!
  Upon this ivory forehead are intrench'd
  Ten thousand rivals, and these suns command
  Supplies from all the world, on pain to forfeit
  Their comfortable beams; these ruby lips,
  A rich exchequer to assure their pay:
  This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard them
  Through hell, and horror, to the Elysian springs;
  Which who'll not venture for? and, should I name
  Such as the virtues of your mind invite,
  Their numbers would be infinite.

  _Cleo._ Can you think
  I may be tempted?

  _Leost._ You were never proved[109].
  For me, I have conversed with you no further
  Than would become a brother. I ne'er tuned
  Loose notes to your chaste ears; or brought rich presents
  For my artillery, to batter down
  The fortress of your honour; I never practised
  The cunning and corrupting arts they study,
  That wander in the wild maze of desire;
  Honest simplicity and truth were all
  The agents I employ'd; and when I came
  To see you, it was with that reverence
  As I beheld the altars of the gods:
  And Love, that came along with me, was taught
  To leave his arrows and his torch behind,
  Quench'd in my fear to give offence.

  _Cleo._ And 'twas
  That modesty that took me, and preserves me,
  Like a fresh rose, in mine own natural sweetness;
  Which, sullied with the touch of impure hands,
  Loses both scent and beauty.

  _Leost._ But, Cleora,
  When I am absent, as I must go from you,
  (Such is the cruelty of my fate,) and leave you,
  Unguarded, to the violent assaults
  Of loose temptations; when the memory
  Of my so many years of love and service
  Is lost in other objects; when you are courted
  By such as keep a catalogue of their conquests,
  Won upon credulous virgins; when nor father
  Is here to owe[110] you, brother to advise you,
  Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off,
  By love instructed how to undermine,
  And blow your constancy up; when your weak senses,
  At once assaulted, shall conspire against you,
  And play the traitors to your soul, your virtue;
  How can you stand? 'Faith, though you fall, and I
  The judge, before whom you then stood accused,
  I should acquit you.

  _Cleo._ Will you then confirm
  That love and jealousy, though of different natures,
  Must of necessity be twins; the younger
  Created only to defeat the elder,
  And spoil him of his birthright[111]? 'tis not well.
  But being to part, I will not chide, I will not;
  Nor with one syllable or tear, express
  How deeply I am wounded with the arrows
  Of your distrust: but when that you shall hear,
  At your return, how I have borne myself,
  And what an austere penance I take on me,
  To satisfy your doubts; when, like a vestal,
  I show you, to your shame, the fire still burning,
  Committed to my charge by true affection,
  The people joining with you in the wonder;
  When, by the glorious splendour of my sufferings,
  The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind,
  The monster too that feeds on fears e'en starved
  For want of seeming matter to accuse me;
  Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof
  From my just anger.

  _Leost._ What will you do?

  _Cleo._ Obey me,
  Or from this minute you are a stranger to me;
  And do 't without reply. All-seeing sun,
  Thou witness of my innocence, thus I close
  Mine eyes against thy comfortable light,
  'Till the return of this distrustful man!
  Now bind them sure;--nay, do 't: [_He binds her
      eyes with her scarf._] If, uncompell'd,
  I loose this knot, until the hands that made it
  Be pleased to untie it, may consuming plagues
  Fall heavy on me! pray you guide me to your lips.
  This kiss, when you come back, shall be a virgin
  To bid you welcome; nay, I have not done yet:
  I will continue dumb, and, you once gone,
  No accent shall come from me. Now to my chamber,
  My tomb, if you miscarry: there I'll spend
  My hours in silent mourning, and thus much
  Shall be reported of me to my glory,
  And you confess it, whether I live or die,
  My constancy triumphs o'er your jealousy.
                                         [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[105] ------------_nay, Leosthenes,
      You are welcome too_, &c.] It should be remembered that Archidamus
      is, with great judgment, represented in the first scene as averse
      to the marriage of Leosthenes with his daughter.--GIFFORD.

[106] _For, now my gown's off, farewell gravity!_] This is said to
      have been a frequent expression with the great but playful Sir
      Thomas More, who was never so happy as when he shook off the pomp
      of office. Fuller tells a similar story of Lord
      Burleigh.--GIFFORD.

[107] _There's a month call'd_ October, &c.] This pleasant old man
      forgets that he is talking of Sicily, where October is the most
      delightful month of the year. All our old poets loved and thought
      only of their country. Whatever region was the subject, England
      was the real theme: their habits, customs, peculiarities were all
      derived from thence. This, though it must condemn them as
      historians, may save them as patriots: and, indeed, it is not much
      to be regretted that they should overlook manners, with which they
      were very imperfectly acquainted, in favour of those with which
      they were hourly conversant--at least it would be ungrateful in
      us, who profit so much by their minute descriptions, to be
      offended at their disregard of "the proper _costumi_."--GIFFORD.

[108] _Here_,] i. e. _in Syracuse_.

[109] Leost. _You were never proved._] The whole of this scene is
      eminently beautiful; yet I cannot avoid recommending to the
      reader's particular notice the speech which follows. Its rhythm is
      so perfect, that it drops on the ear like the sweetest
      melody.--GIFFORD.

[110] _Owe_,] i. e. _own_.

[111] _And spoil him of his birthright?_] This is a happy allusion to
      the history of Jacob and Esau. It is the more so, for being void
      of all profaneness; to which, indeed, Massinger had no
      tendency.--GIFFORD.

                          SCENE II.

            _The same. A Room in_ CLEON'_s House_.

_Enter_ ASOTUS, _driving in_ GRACCULO.

  _Asot._ You slave! you dog! down, cur!

  _Grac._ Hold, good young master,
  For pity's sake!

  _Asot._ Now am I in my kingdom:--
  Who says I am not valiant? I begin
  To frown again: quake, villain!

  _Grac._ So I do, sir;
  Your looks are agues to me.

  _Asot._ Are they so, sir!
  'Slight, if I had them at this bay that flout me,
  And say I look like a sheep and an ass, I'd make them
  Feel that I am a lion.

  _Grac._ Do not roar, sir,
  As you are a valiant beast: but do you know
  Why you use me thus?

  _Asot._ I'll beat thee a little more,
  Then study for a reason. O! I have it:
  One brake a jest on me, and then I swore,
  (Because I durst not strike him,) when I came home,
  That I would break thy head.

  _Grac._ Plague on his mirth!
  I am sure I mourn for 't.

  _Asot._ Remember too, I charge you,
  To teach my horse good manners yet; this morning,
  As I rode to take the air, the untutor'd jade
  Threw me, and kick'd me.

  _Grac._ I thank him for 't.      [_Aside._

  _Asot._ What's that?

  _Grac._ I say, sir, I will teach him to hold his heels,
  If you will rule your fingers.

  _Asot._ I'll think upon 't.

  _Grac._ I am bruised to jelly: better be a dog,
  Than slave to a fool or coward.                [_Aside._

  _Asot._ Here's my mother,

_Enter_ CORISCA _and_ ZANTHIA.

  She is chastising too: how brave we live,
  That have our slaves to beat, to keep us in breath
  When we want exercise!

  _Coris._ Careless creature,       [_Striking her._
  Look to 't; if a curl fall, or wind or sun
  Take my complexion off, I will not leave
  One hair upon thine head.

  _Grac._ Here's a second show
  Of the family of pride!           [_Aside._

  _Coris._ Fie on these wars!
  I'm starved for want of action. When were you with
  Your mistress, fair Cleora?

  _Asot._ Two days sithence;
  But she's so coy, forsooth, that ere I can
  Speak a penn'd speech I have bought and studied for her,
  Her woman calls her away.

  _Coris._ Here's a dull thing!

  _Zant._ Madam, my lord.

_Enter_ CLEON.

  _Cleon._ Where are you, wife? I fain would go abroad,
  But cannot find my slaves that bear my litter;
  I am tired. Your shoulder, son;--nay, sweet, thy hand too:
  A turn or two in the garden, and then to supper,
  And so to bed.

  _Asot._ Never to rise, I hope, more.      [_Aside._
                                               [_Exeunt._

                         SCENE III.

           _A Grove near the Walls of Syracuse._

_Enter_ MARULLO _and_ POLIPHRON. _A Table set out with Wine, &c._

  _Mar._ 'Twill take, I warrant thee.

  _Poliph._ You may do your pleasure;
  But, in my judgment, better to make use of
  The present opportunity.

  _Mar._ No more.

  _Poliph._ I am silenced.

  _Mar._ More wine; prithee drink hard, friend,
  And when we're hot, whatever I propound,

_Enter_ CIMBRIO, GRACCULO, _and other Slaves._

  Second with vehemence.--Men of your words, all welcome!
  Slaves use no ceremony; sit down; here's a health.

  _Poliph._ Let it run round; fill every man his glass.

  _Grac._ We look for no waiters;--this is wine!

  _Mar._ The better,
  Strong, lusty wine: drink deep; this juice will make us
  As free as our lords.                 [_Drinks._

  _Grac._ But if they find we taste it,
  We are condemn'd to the quarry during life,
  Without hope of redemption.

  _Mar._ Pish! for that
  We'll talk anon: another rouse[112]! we lose time;
                                           [_Drinks._
  When our low blood's wound up a little higher,
  I'll offer my design; nay, we are cold yet;
  These glasses contain nothing:--do me right,
                                  [_Takes the bottle._
  As e'er you hope for liberty. 'Tis done bravely:
  How do you feel yourselves now?

  _Cimb._ I begin
  To have strange conundrums in my head.

  _Grac._ And I
  To loathe base water. I would be hang'd in peace now
  For one month of such holidays.

  _Mar._ An age, boys,
  And yet defy the whip; if you are men,
  Or dare believe you have souls.

  _Cimb._ We are no brokers.

  _Mar._ Our lords are no gods--

  _Grac._ They are devils to us, I am sure.

  _Mar._ But subject to
  Cold, hunger, and diseases.

  _Grac._ In abundance.

  _Mar._ Equal Nature fashion'd us
  All in one mould. The bear serves not the bear,
  Nor the wolf the wolf; 'twas odds of strength in tyrants
  That pluck'd the first link from the golden chain
  With which that THING OF THINGS[113] bound in the world.
  Why then, since we are taught, by their examples,
  To love our liberty, if not command,
  Should the strong serve the weak, the fair, deform'd ones?
  Or such as know the cause of things pay tribute
  To ignorant fools? All's but the outward gloss,
  And politic form, that does distinguish us.--
  Cimbrio, thou art a strong man; if, in place
  Of carrying burthens, thou hadst been train'd up
  In martial discipline, thou might'st have proved
  A general, fit to lead and fight for Sicily,
  As fortunate as Timoleon.

  _Cimb._ A little fighting
  Will serve a general's turn.

  _Mar._ Thou, Gracculo,
  Hast fluency of language, quick conceit;
  And, I think, cover'd with a senator's robe,
  Formally set on the bench, thou wouldst appear
  As brave a senator.

  _Grac._ Would I had lands,
  Or money to buy a place! and if I did not
  Sleep on the bench with the drowsiest of them,
  Play with my chain, look on my watch, and wear
  A state beard, with my barber's help, rank with them
  In their most choice peculiar gifts, degrade me,
  And put me to drink water again, which, now
  I have tasted wine, were poison!

  _Mar._ 'Tis spoke nobly,
  And like a gownman: none of these, I think too,
  But would prove good burghers.

  _Grac._ Hum! the fools are modest;
  I know their insides: here's an ill-faced fellow,
  (But that will not be seen in a dark shop;)
  If he did not in a month learn to outswear,
  In the selling of his wares, the cunning'st tradesman
  In Syracuse, I have no skill. Here's another;
  Observe but what a cozening look he has!--
  Hold up thy head, man! If, for drawing gallants
  Into mortgages for commodities[114], cheating heirs
  With your new counterfeit gold thread, and gumm'd velvets,
  He does not transcend all that went before him,
  Call in his patent.

  _Mar._ Is 't not pity, then,
  Men of such eminent virtues should be slaves?

  _Cimb._ Our fortune.

  _Mar._ 'Tis your folly: daring men
  Command and make their fates. Say, at this instant,
  I mark'd you out a way to liberty;
  Possess'd you of those blessings our proud lords
  So long have surfeited in; and, what is sweetest,
  Arm you with power, by strong hand to revenge
  Your stripes, your unregarded toil, the pride,
  The insolence, of such as tread upon
  Your patient sufferings; fill your famish'd mouths
  With the fat and plenty of the land; redeem you
  From the dark vale of servitude, and seat you
  Upon a hill of happiness; what would you do
  To purchase this, and more?

  _Grac._ Do! any thing:
  To burn a church or two, and dance by the light on 't,
  Were but a May-game.

  _Poliph._ I have a father living;
  But if the cutting of his throat could work this,
  He should excuse me.

  _Cimb._ 'Slight! I would cut mine own,
  Rather than miss it; so I might but have
  A taste on 't ere I die.

  _Mar._ Be resolute men;
  You shall run no such hazard, nor groan under
  The burden of such crying sins.

  _Poliph._ Do not torment us
  With expectation.

  _Mar._ Thus, then:--Our proud masters,
  And all the able freemen of the city,
  Are gone unto the wars----

  _Poliph._ Observe but that.

  _Mar._ Old men, and such as can make no resistance,
  Are only left at home----

  _Grac._ And the proud young fool,
  My master--if this take, I'll hamper him.

  _Mar._ Their arsenal, their treasure, 's in our power,
  If we have hearts to seize them. If our lords fall
  In the present action, the whole country's ours:
  Say they return victorious, we have means
  To keep the town against them; at the worst,
  To make our own conditions. If you dare break up
  Their iron chests, banquet in their rich halls,
  And carve yourselves of all delights and pleasures
  You have been barr'd from, with one voice cry with me,
  Liberty! liberty!

  _All._ Liberty! liberty!

  _Mar._ Go, then, and take possession: use all freedom;
  But shed no blood. [_Exeunt Slaves._]--So, this is well begun;
  But not to be commended till 't be done.        [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[112] _Rouse_,] i. e. _full glass_, _bumper_.

[113] _That_ THING OF THINGS.] A literal translation, as Mr. M. Mason
      observes, of ENS ENTIUM. I know not where Pisander acquired his
      revolutionary philosophy: his golden chain, perhaps, he found in
      Homer.--GIFFORD.

[114] _For commodities_, &c.] i. e. _for wares_, of which the needy
      borrower made what he could. Our old writers are extremely
      pleasant on the heterogeneous articles which the usurers of their
      days forced on the necessity of the thoughtless spendthrift in
      lieu of the money for which he had rashly signed. Fielding has
      imitated them in his Miser, without adding much to their humour;
      and Foote, in The Minor, has servilely followed his example. The
      spectators of those scenes probably thought that the writers had
      gone beyond real life, and drawn on imagination for their
      amusement: but transactions (not altogether proper, perhaps, to be
      specified here) have actually taken place in our own times, which
      leave their boldest conceptions at an humble distance; and prove,
      beyond a doubt, that, in the arts of raising money, the invention
      of the most fertile poet must yield to that of the meanest
      scrivener.--GIFFORD.

                      ACT III. SCENE I.

       _The same. A Gallery in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ MARULLO _and_ TIMANDRA.

  _Mar._ Why, think you that I plot against myself[115]?
  Fear nothing, you are safe: these thick-skinn'd slaves,
  I use as instruments to serve my ends,
  Pierce not my deep designs; nor shall they dare
  To lift an arm against you.

  _Timand._ With your will.
  But turbulent spirits, raised beyond themselves
  With ease, are not so soon laid; they oft prove
  Dangerous to him that call'd them up.

  _Mar._ 'Tis true,
  In what is rashly undertook. Long since
  I have consider'd seriously their natures,
  Proceeded with mature advice, and know
  I hold their will and faculties in more awe
  Than I can do my own. Now, for their licence,
  And riot in the city, I can make
  A just defence and use: it may appear, too,
  A politic prevention of such ills
  As might, with greater violence and danger,
  Hereafter be attempted; though some smart for 't,
  It matters not:--however, I'm resolved;
  And sleep you with security. Holds Cleora
  Constant to her rash vow?

  _Timand._ Beyond belief;
  To me, that see her hourly, it seems a fable.
  By signs I guess at her commands, and serve them
  With silence; such her pleasure is, made known
  By holding her fair hand thus. She eats little,
  Sleeps less, as I imagine; once a day
  I lead her to this gallery, where she walks
  Some half a dozen turns, and, having offer'd
  To her absent saint a sacrifice of sighs,
  She points back to her prison.

  _Mar._ Guide her hither,
  And make her understand the slaves' revolt;
  And, with your utmost eloquence, enlarge
  Their insolence, and wrongs done in the city.
  Forget not, too, I am their chief, and tell her
  You strongly think my extreme dotage on her,
  As I'm Marullo, caused this sudden uproar,
  To gain possession of her.

  _Timand._ Punctually
  I will discharge my part.      [_Exit._

_Enter_ POLIPHRON.

  _Poliph._ O, sir, I sought you:
  There's such variety of all disorders
  Among the slaves; answer'd with crying, howling,
  By the citizens and their wives; such a confusion,
  In a word, not to tire you, as I think
  The like was never read of.

  _Mar._ This is some
  Revenge for my disgrace.

  _Poliph._ But, sir, I fear,
  If your authority restrain them not,
  They'll fire the city, or kill one another,
  They are so apt to outrage; neither know I
  Whether you wish it, and came therefore to
  Acquaint you with so much.

  _Mar._ I will among them;
  But must not long be absent.

  _Poliph._ At your pleasure.      [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTE:

[115] Mar. _Why, think you that I plot against myself?_] The plot
      opens here with wonderful address; and the succeeding conference,
      or rather scene, between Pisander and Cleora, is inimitably
      beautiful.--GIFFORD.

                          SCENE II.

               _The same. A Room in the same._

_Shouts within. Enter_ CLEORA _and_ TIMANDRA.

  _Timand._ They are at our gates: my heart! affrights and horrors
  Increase each minute. No way left to save us,
  No flattering hope to comfort us, or means,
  But miracle, to redeem us from base wrongs
  And lawless rapine! Are there gods, yet suffer
  Such innocent sweetness to be made the spoil
  Of brutish violence? And, of these rebel slaves,
  He that should offer up his life to guard you,
  Marullo, cursed Marullo, your own bondman,
  Purchased to serve you, and fed by your favours--
  Nay, start not: it is he; he, the grand captain
  Of these libidinous beasts, that have not left
  One cruel act undone that barbarous conquest
  Yet ever practised in a captive city;
  He, doting on your beauty, and to have fellows
  In his foul sin, hath raised these mutinous slaves.
  Wring not your hands, 'tis bootless; use the means
  That may preserve you. 'Tis no crime to break
  A vow when you are forced to it; show your face,
  And with the majesty of commanding beauty
  Strike dead his loose affections: if that fail,
  Give liberty to your tongue, and use entreaties:
  There cannot be a breast of flesh and blood,
  Or heart so made of flint, but must receive
  Impression from your words; or eyes so stern,
  But, from the clear reflection of your tears,
  Must melt, and bear them company. Will you not
  Do these good offices to yourself? poor I, then,
  Can only weep your fortune.--Here he comes.

_Enter_ MARULLO, _speaking at the door_.

  _Mar._ He that advances
  A foot beyond this comes upon my sword:
  You have had your ways, disturb not mine.

  _Timand._ Speak gently;
  Her fears may kill her else.

  _Mar._ Now Love inspire me!
  Still shall this canopy of envious night
  Obscure my suns of comfort? and those dainties
  Of purest white and red, which I take in at
  My greedy eyes, denied my famish'd senses?--
  The organs of your hearing yet are open;
  And you infringe no vow, though you vouchsafe
  To give them warrant to convey unto
  Your understanding parts the story of
  A tortured and despairing lover, whom
  Not fortune but affection marks your slave:--
  Shake not, best lady! for, believe 't, you are
  As far from danger as I am from force:
  All violence I shall offer tends no further
  Than to relate my sufferings, which I dare not
  Presume to do, till, by some gracious sign,
  You show you are pleased to hear me.

  _Timand._ If you are,
  Hold forth your right hand.
               [CLEORA _holds forth her right hand._

  _Mar._ So, 'tis done; and I
  With my glad lips seal humbly on your robe
  My soul's thanks for the favour: I forbear
  To tell you who I am, what wealth, what honours
  I made exchange of, to become your servant:
  And though I knew worthy Leosthenes
  (For sure he must be worthy, for whose love
  You have endured so much) to be my rival,
  When rage and jealousy counsell'd me to kill him,
  Which then I could have done with much more ease,
  Than now, in fear to grieve you, I dare speak it,
  Love, seconded with duty, boldly told me
  The man I hated, fair Cleora favour'd;
  And that was his protection.       [CLEORA _bows._

  _Timand._ See, she bows
  Her head in sign of thankfulness.

  _Mar._ He removed by
  The occasion of the war, (my fires increasing
  By being closed and stopp'd up,) frantic affection
  Prompted me to do something in his absence
  That might deliver you into my power,
  Which you see is effected: and even now,
  When my rebellious passions chide my dulness,
  And tell me how much I abuse my fortunes,
  Now it is in my power to bear you hence,
                                  [CLEORA _starts._
  (Nay, fear not, madam; true love is a servant,
  But brutish lust a tyrant,) only thus much
  Be pleased I may speak in my own dear cause;
  And think it worthy your consideration,
  (I have loved truly, cannot say deserved,
  Since duty must not take the name of merit,)
  That I so far prize your content, before
  All blessings that my hope can fashion to me,
  That willingly I entertain despair,
  And, for your sake, embrace it; for I know,
  This opportunity lost, by no endeavour
  The like can be recover'd. To conclude,
  Forget not that I lose myself to save you:
  For what can I expect but death and torture,
  The war being ended? and, what is a task
  Would trouble Hercules to undertake,
  I do deny you to myself, to give you,
  A pure unspotted present, to my rival.
  I have said: if it distaste not, best of virgins!
  Reward my temperance with some lawful favour,
  Though you contemn my person.
     [CLEORA _kneels, then pulls off her glove, and
      offers her hand to_ MARULLO.

  _Timand._ See, she kneels,
  And seems to call upon the gods to pay
  The debt she owes your virtue: to perform which,
  As a sure pledge of friendship, she vouchsafes you
  Her fair right hand.

  _Mar._ I am paid for all my sufferings.
  Now, when you please, pass to your private chamber:
  My love and duty, faithful guards, shall keep you
  From all disturbance; and when you are sated
  With thinking of Leosthenes, as a fee
  Due to my service, spare one sigh for me.
     [_Exeunt._ CLEORA _makes a low courtesy as she goes off._

                         SCENE III.

           _The same. A Room in_ CLEON'_s House_.

_Enter_ GRACCULO, _leading_ ASOTUS _in an ape's habit, with a chain
about his neck_; ZANTHIA _in_ CORISCA'_s clothes, she bearing up her
train_.

  _Grac._ Come on, sir.

  _Asot._ Oh!

  _Grac._ Do you grumble? you were ever
  A brainless ass; but if this hold, I'll teach you
  To come aloft and do tricks like an ape.
  Your morning's lesson: if you miss----

  _Asot._ O no, sir.

  _Grac._ What for the Carthaginians? [ASOTUS
      _makes moppes_[116].] A good beast.
  What for ourself, your lord[117]? [_Dances._] Exceeding well.
  There's your reward. [_Gives him an apple._]--Not
      kiss your paw! So, so, so.

  _Zant._ Was ever lady, the first day of her honour,
  So waited on by a wrinkled crone? She looks now,
  Without her painting, curling, and perfumes,
  Like the last day of January. Further off!
  So--stand there like an image; if you stir,
  Till, with a quarter of a look, I call you,
  You know what follows.

  _Coris._ O, what am I fallen to!
  But 'tis a punishment for my cruel pride,
  Justly return'd upon me.

  _Grac._ How dost thou like
  Thy ladyship, Zanthia?

  _Zant._ Very well; and bear it
  With as much state as your lordship.

  _Grac._ Give me thy hand:
  Let us, like conquering Romans, walk in triumph[118],
  Our captives following; then mount our tribunals,
  And make the slaves our footstools.

  _Zant._ Fine, by Jove!
  Are your hands clean, minion?

  _Coris._ Yes, forsooth.

  _Zant._ Fall off then. She and I have changed our parts;
  She does what she forced me to do in her reign,
  And I must practise it in mine.

  _Grac._ 'Tis justice:
  O! here come more.

_Enter_ CIMBRIO, CLEON, POLIPHRON, _and_ OLYMPIA.

  _Cimb._ Discover to a drachma,
  Or I will famish thee.

  _Cleon._ O! I am pined already.

  _Poliph._ Spare the old jade, he's founder'd.

  _Grac._ Cut his throat then,
  And hang him out for a scarecrow.

  _Poliph._ You have all your wishes
  In your revenge, and I have mine. You see
  I use no tyranny: once I was her slave,
  And in requital of her courtesies,
  Having made one another free, we are married:
  And, if you wish us joy, join with us in
  A dance at our wedding.

  _Grac._ Agreed; for I have thought of
  A most triumphant one, which shall express
  We are lords, and these our slaves.

  _Poliph._ But we shall want
  A woman.

  _Grac._ No, here's Jane-of-apes shall serve[119];
  Carry your body swimming.--Where's the music?

  _Poliph._ I have placed it in yon window.

  _Grac._ Begin then sprightly.
                         [_Music, and then a dance._

_Enter_ MARULLO _behind_.

  _Poliph._ Well done on all sides! I have prepared a banquet;
  Let's drink and cool us.

  _Grac._ A good motion.

  _Cimb._ Wait here;
  You have been tired with feasting, learn to fast now.

  _Grac._ I'll have an apple for jack, and may be some scraps
  May fall to your share.
   [_Exeunt_ GRAC. ZANT. CIMB. POLIPH. _and_ OLYMP.

  _Coris._ Whom can we accuse
  But ourselves, for what we suffer? Thou art just,
  Thou all-creating Power! and misery
  Instructs me now, that yesterday acknowledged
  No deity beyond my pride and pleasure,
  There is a heaven above us, that looks down
  With the eyes of justice, upon such as number
  Those blessings freely given, in the accompt
  Of their poor merits: else it could not be,
  Now miserable I, to please whose palate
  The elements were ransack'd, yet complain'd
  Of nature, as not liberal enough
  In her provision of rarities
  To soothe my taste, and pamper my proud flesh,
  Should wish in vain for bread.

  _Cleon._ Yes, I do wish too,
  For what I fed my dogs with.

  _Coris._ I, that forgot
  I was made of flesh and blood, and thought the silk
  Spun by the diligent worm out of their entrails,
  Too coarse to clothe me, and the softest down
  Too hard to sleep on; that disdain'd to look
  On virtue being in rags, that from my servants
  Expected adoration, am made justly
  The scorn of my own bondwoman.

  _Cleon._ I know I cannot
  Last long, that's all my comfort.

  _Mar._ What a true mirror
  Were this sad spectacle for secure greatness!
  Here they, that never see themselves, but in
  The glass of servile flattery, might behold
  The weak foundation upon which they build
  Their trust in human frailty. Happy are those,
  That knowing, in their births, they are subject to
  Uncertain change, are still prepared, and arm'd
  For either fortune: a rare principle,
  And, with much labour, learn'd in wisdom's school!
  For, as these bondmen, by their actions, show
  That their prosperity, like too large a sail
  For their small bark of judgment, sinks them with
  A fore-right gale of liberty, ere they reach
  The port they long to touch at: so these wretches,
  Swollen with the false opinion of their worth,
  And proud of blessings left them, not acquired;
  That did believe they could with giant arms
  Fathom the earth, and were above their fates,
  Those borrow'd helps, that did support them, vanish'd,
  Fall of themselves, and by unmanly suffering
  Betray their proper weakness, and make known
  Their boasted greatness was lent, not their own.

  _Cleon._ O for some meat! they sit long.

  _Coris._ We forgot,
  When we drew out intemperate feasts till midnight;
  Their hunger was not thought on, nor their watchings;
  Nor did we hold ourselves served to the height,
  But when we did exact and force their duties
  Beyond their strength and power.

  _Asot._ We pay for 't now:

_Re-enter_ POLIPHRON, CIMBRIO, GRACCULO, ZANTHIA, _and_ OLYMPIA,
_drunk and quarrelling_.

  _Cimb._ Do not hold me:
  Not kiss the bride!

  _Poliph._ No, sir.

  _Mar._ [_coming forward_] Hold!

  _Zant._ Here's Marullo.

  _Olymp._ He's your chief.

  _Mar._ Take heed; I've news will cool this heat, and make you
  Remember what you were.

  _Cimb._ How!

  _Mar._ Send off these,
  And then I'll tell you.
   [_Exeunt_ CLEON, ASOT. ZANT. OLYMP. _and_ CORIS.

  _Cimb._ What would you impart?

  _Mar._ What must invite you
  To stand upon your guard, and leave your feasting;
  Our masters are victorious.

  _All._ How!

  _Mar._ Within
  A day's march of the city, flesh'd with spoil,
  And proud of conquest; the armado sunk,
  The Carthaginian admiral, hand to hand,
  Slain by Leosthenes.

  _Cimb._ I feel the whip
  Upon my back already.

  _Grac._ Every man
  Seek a convenient tree, and hang himself.

  _Poliph._ Better die once, than live an age to suffer
  New tortures every hour.

  _Cimb._ Say, we submit,
  And yield us to their mercy?--

  _Mar._ Can you flatter
  Yourselves with such false hopes? Or dare you think
  That your imperious lords, that never fail'd
  To punish with severity petty slips
  In your neglect of labour, may be won
  To pardon those licentious outrages
  Which noble enemies forbear to practise
  Upon the conquer'd? We have gone too far
  To think now of retiring; in our courage,
  And daring, lies our safety: if you are not
  Slaves in your abject minds, as in your fortunes,
  Since to die is the worst, better expose
  Our naked breasts to their keen swords, and sell
  Our lives with the most advantage, than to trust
  In a forestall'd remission, or yield up
  Our bodies to the furnace of their fury,
  Thrice heated with revenge.

  _Grac._ You led us on.

  _Cimb._ And 'tis but justice you should bring us off.

  _Grac._ And we expect it.

  _Mar._ Hear then, and obey me;
  And I will either save you, or fall with you.
  Man the walls strongly, and make good the ports;
  Boldly deny their entrance, and rip up
  Your grievances, and what compell'd you to
  This desperate course: if they disdain to hear
  Of composition, we have in our powers
  Their aged fathers, children, and their wives,
  Who, to preserve themselves, must willingly
  Make intercession for us. 'Tis not time now
  To talk, but do: a glorious end, or freedom,
  Is now proposed us; stand resolved for either,
  And, like good fellows, live or die together.
                                            [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[116] _Moppes_,] i. e. the quick and grinning motions of the teeth and
      lips which apes make when they are irritated.

[117] _What for ourself, your lord?_] Here Asotus must be supposed to
      leap, or rather tumble, in token of obedience. Our ancestors
      certainly excelled us in the education which they bestowed on
      their animals. Banks's horse far surpassed all that have been
      brought up in the academy of Mr. Astley; and the apes of these
      days are mere clowns to their progenitors. The apes of Massinger's
      time were gifted with a pretty smattering of politics and
      philosophy. The widow Wild had one of them: "He would _come over_
      for all my friends, but was the dogged'st thing to my enemies! he
      would sit upon his tail before them, and frown like John-a-napes
      when the pope is named." _The Parson's Wedding._--GIFFORD.

[118] _Let us, like conquering Romans, walk in triumph._] Gracculo
      speaks in the spirit of prophecy; for the _conquering Romans_ were
      at this time struggling with their neighbours for a few miserable
      huts to hide their heads in; and if any _captives followed_, or
      rather preceded, their _triumphs_, it was a herd of stolen
      beeves.--GIFFORD.

[119] _Jane-of-apes_;] Meaning Corisca: he plays upon _Jack-an-apes_,
      the name he had given to Asotus.--GIFFORD.

                          SCENE IV.

      _The Country near Syracuse. The Camp of_ TIMOLEON.

_Enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.

  _Timag._ I am so far from envy, I am proud
  You have outstripp'd me in the race of honour.
  O 'twas a glorious day, and bravely won!
  Your bold performance gave such lustre to
  Timoleon's wise directions, as the army
  Rests doubtful, to whom they stand most engaged
  For their so great success.

  _Leost._ The gods first honour'd,
  The glory be the general's; 'tis far from me
  To be his rival.

  _Timag._ You abuse your fortune,
  To entertain her choice and gracious favours
  With a contracted brow; plumed Victory
  Is truly painted with a cheerful look,
  Equally distant from proud insolence,
  And base dejection.

  _Leost._ O Timagoras,
  You only are acquainted with the cause
  That loads my sad heart with a hill of lead;
  Whose ponderous weight, neither my new-got honour,
  Assisted by the general applause
  The soldier crowns it with, nor all war's glories,
  Can lessen or remove: and, would you please,
  With fit consideration, to remember
  How much I wrong'd Cleora's innocence
  With my rash doubts; and what a grievous penance
  She did impose upon her tender sweetness,
  To pluck away the vulture, jealousy,
  That fed upon my liver; you cannot blame me,
  But call it a fit justice on myself,
  Though I resolve to be a stranger to
  The thought of mirth or pleasure.

  _Timag._ You have redeem'd
  The forfeit of your fault with such a ransom
  Of honourable action, as my sister
  Must of necessity confess her sufferings,
  Weigh'd down by your fair merits; and, when she views you,
  Like a triumphant conqueror, carried through
  The streets of Syracusa, the glad people
  Pressing to meet you, and the senators
  Contending who shall heap most honours on you;
  The oxen, crown'd with garlands, led before you,
  Appointed for the sacrifice; and the altars
  Smoking with thankful incense to the gods:
  The soldiers chanting loud hymns to your praise,
  The windows fill'd with matrons and with virgins,
  Throwing upon your head, as you pass by,
  The choicest flowers, and silently invoking
  The queen of love, with their particular vows,
  To be thought worthy of you; can Cleora
  (Though, in the glass of self-love, she behold
  Her best deserts) but with all joy acknowledge
  What she endured was but a noble trial
  You made of her affection? and her anger,
  Rising from your too amorous cares, soon drench'd
  In Lethe, and forgotten.

  _Leost._ If those glories
  You so set forth were mine, they might plead for me;
  But I can lay no claim to the least honour
  Which you, with foul injustice, ravish from her.
  Her beauty in me wrought a miracle,
  Taught me to aim at things beyond my power,
  Which her perfections purchased, and gave to me
  From her free bounties; she inspired me with
  That valour which I dare not call mine own;
  And, from the fair reflection of her mind,
  My soul received the sparkling beams of courage.
  She, from the magazine of her proper goodness,
  Stock'd me with virtuous purposes; sent me forth
  To trade for honour; and, she being the owner
  Of the bark of my adventures, I must yield her
  A just account of all, as fits a factor.
  And, howsoever others think me happy,
  And cry aloud, I have made a prosperous voyage;
  One frown of her dislike at my return,
  Which, as a punishment for my fault, I look for,
  Strikes dead all comfort.

  _Timag._ Tush! these fears are needless;
  She cannot, must not, shall not, be so cruel.
  A free confession of a fault wins pardon,
  But, being seconded by desert, commands it.
  The general is your own, and, sure, my father
  Repents his harshness; for myself, I am
  Ever your creature.--One day shall be happy
  In your triumph, and your marriage.

  _Leost._ May it prove so,
  With her consent and pardon.

  _Timag._ Ever touching
  On that harsh string! She is your own, and you
  Without disturbance seize on what's your due.
                                         [_Exeunt._

                      ACT IV. SCENE I.

        _Syracuse. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ MARULLO _and_ TIMANDRA.

  _Mar._ She has her health, then?

  _Timand._ Yes, sir; and as often
  As I speak of you, lends attentive ear
  To all that I deliver; nor seems tired,
  Though I dwell long on the relation of
  Your sufferings for her, heaping praise on praise
  On the unequall'd temperance, and command
  You hold o'er your affections.

  _Mar._ To my wish:
  Have you acquainted her with the defeature[120]
  Of the Carthaginians, and with what honours
  Leosthenes comes crown'd home with?

  _Timand._ With all care.

  _Mar._ And how does she receive it?

  _Timand._ As I guess,
  With a seeming kind of joy; but yet appears not
  Transported, or proud of his happy fortune.
  But when I tell her of the certain ruin
  You must encounter with at their arrival
  In Syracusa, and that death, with torments,
  Must fall upon you, which you yet repent not,
  Esteeming it a glorious martyrdom,
  And a reward of pure unspotted love,
  Preserved in the white robe of innocence,
  Though she were in your power; and, still spurr'd on
  By powerful love, you rather chose to suffer
  The fury of your lord, than that she should
  Be grieved or tainted in her reputation----

  _Mar._ Pities she my misfortune?

  _Timand._ She express'd
  All signs of sorrow which, her vow observed,
  Could witness a grieved heart. At the first hearing,
  She fell upon her face, rent her fair hair,
  Her hands held up to heaven, and vented sighs,
  In which she silently seem'd to complain
  Of heaven's injustice.

  _Mar._ 'Tis enough: wait carefully,
  And, on all watch'd occasions, continue
  Speech and discourse of me: 'tis time must work her.

  _Timand._ I'll not be wanting, but still strive to serve you.
      [_Exit._

_Enter_ POLIPHRON.

  _Mar._ Now, Poliphron, the news?

  _Poliph._ The conquering army
  Is within ken.

  _Mar._ How brook the slaves the object?

  _Poliph._ Cheerfully yet; they do refuse no labour,
  And seem to scoff at danger; 'tis your presence
  That must confirm them: with a full consent
  You are chosen to relate the tyranny
  Of our proud masters; and what you subscribe to,
  They gladly will allow of, or hold out
  To the last man.

  _Mar._ I'll instantly among them.
  If we prove constant to ourselves, good fortune
  Will not, I hope, forsake us.

  _Poliph._ 'Tis our best refuge.      [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTE:

[120] _Defeature_,] i. e. _defeat_. The two words were used
      indiscriminately by our old writers.

                          SCENE II.

               _Before the Walls of Syracuse._

_Enter_ TIMOLEON, ARCHIDAMUS, DIPHILUS, LEOSTHENES, TIMAGORAS, _and
Soldiers_.

  _Timol._ Thus far we are return'd victorious; crown'd
  With wreaths triumphant, (famine, blood, and death,
  Banish'd your peaceful confines,) and bring home
  Security and peace. 'Tis therefore fit
  That such as boldly stood the shock of war,
  And with the dear expense of sweat and blood
  Have purchased honour, should with pleasure reap
  The harvest of their toil: and we stand bound,
  Out of the first file of the best deservers,
  (Though all must be consider'd to their merits,)
  To think of you, Leosthenes, that stand,
  And worthily, most dear in our esteem,
  For your heroic valour.

  _Archid._ When I look on
  The labour of so many men and ages,
  This well-built city, not long since design'd
  To spoil and rapine, by the favour of
  The gods, and you, their ministers, preserved,
  I cannot, in my height of joy, but offer
  These tears for a glad sacrifice.

  _Diph._ Sleep the citizens?
  Or are they overwhelm'd with the excess
  Of comfort that flows to them?

  _Leost._ We receive
  A silent entertainment.

  _Timag._ I long since
  Expected that the virgins and the matrons,
  The old men striving with their age, the priests,
  Carrying the images of their gods before them,
  Should have met us with procession.--Ha! the gates
  Are shut against us!

  _Archid._ And, upon the walls,
  Arm'd men seem to defy us!

_Enter above, on the Walls_, MARULLO, POLIPHRON, CIMBRIO, GRACCULO,
_and other Slaves_.

  _Diph._ I should know
  These faces: they are our slaves.

  _Timag._ The mystery, rascals!
  Open the ports, and play not with an anger
  That will consume you.

  _Timol._ This is above wonder.

  _Archid._ Our bondmen stand against us!

  _Grac._ Some such things
  We were in man's remembrance. The slaves are turn'd
  Lords of the town, or so--nay, be not angry:
  Perhaps, upon good terms, giving security
  You will be quiet men, we may allow you
  Some lodgings in our garrets or outhouses:
  Your great looks cannot carry it.

  _Cimb._ The truth is,
  We have been bold to rifle your rich chests,
  Been busy with your wardrobes.

  _Timag._ Can we endure this?

  _Leost._ O my Cleora!

  _Grac._ A caudle for the gentleman;
  He'll die o' the pip else.

  _Timag._ Scorn'd too! are you turn'd stone?
  Hold parley with our bondmen! force our entrance,
  Then, villains, expect----

  _Timol._ Hold! You wear men's shapes,
  And if, like men, you have reason, show a cause
  That leads you to this desperate course, which must end
  In your destruction.

  _Grac._ That, as please the Fates;
  But we vouchsafe----Speak, captain.

  _Timag._ Hell and furies!

  _Archid._ Bay'd by our own curs!

  _Cimb._ Take heed you be not worried.

  _Poliph._ We are sharp set.

  _Cimb._ And sudden.

  _Mar._ Briefly thus, then,
  Since I must speak for all--Your tyranny
  Drew us from our obedience. Happy those times
  When lords were styled fathers of families,
  And not imperious masters! when they number'd
  Their servants almost equal with their sons,
  Or one degree beneath them! when their labours
  Were cherish'd and rewarded, and a period
  Set to their sufferings; when they did not press
  Their duties or their wills, beyond the power
  And strength of their performance! all things order'd
  With such decorum, as[121] wise lawmakers,
  From each well-govern'd private house derived
  The perfect model of a commonwealth.
  Humanity then lodged in the hearts of men,
  And thankful masters carefully provided
  For creatures wanting reason. The noble horse,
  That, in his fiery youth, from his wide nostrils
  Neigh'd courage to his rider, and brake through
  Groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord
  Safe to triumphant victory; old or wounded,
  Was set at liberty, and freed from service.
  The Athenian mules, that from the quarry drew
  Marble, hew'd for the temples of the gods,
  The great work ended, were dismiss'd, and fed
  At the public cost; nay, faithful dogs have found
  Their sepulchres; but man, to man more cruel,
  Appoints no end to the sufferings of his slave;
  Since pride stepp'd in and riot, and o'erturn'd
  This goodly frame of concord, teaching masters
  To glory in the abuse of such as are
  Brought under their command; who, grown unuseful,
  Are less esteem'd than beasts.--This you have practised,
  Practised on us with rigour; this hath forced us
  To shake our heavy yokes off; and, if redress
  Of these just grievances be not granted us,
  We'll right ourselves, and by strong hand defend
  What we are now possess'd of.

  _Grac._ And not leave
  One house unfired.

  _Cimb._ Or throat uncut of those
  We have in our power.

  _Poliph._ Nor will we fall alone;
  You shall buy us dearly.

  _Timag._ O the gods!
  Unheard-of insolence!

  _Timol._ What are your demands?

  _Mar._ A general pardon[122] first, for all offences
  Committed in your absence. Liberty
  To all such as desire to make return
  Into their countries; and, to those that stay,
  A competence of land freely allotted
  To each man's proper use, no lord acknowledged:
  Lastly, with your consent, to choose them wives
  Out of your families.

  _Timag._ Let the city sink first.

  _Leost._ And ruin seize on all, ere we subscribe
  To such conditions.

  _Archid._ Carthage, though victorious,
  Could not have forced more from us.

  _Leost._ Scale the walls;
  Capitulate after.

  _Timol._ He that wins the top first
  Shall wear a mural wreath.               [_Exeunt._

  _Mar._ Each to his place.      [_Flourish and alarms._
  Or death or victory! Charge them home, and fear not.
      [_Exeunt_ MARULLO _and Slaves_.

_Re-enter_ TIMOLEON, ARCHIDAMUS, _and Senators_.

  _Timol._ We wrong ourselves, and we are justly punish'd,
  To deal with bondmen, as if we encounter'd
  An equal enemy.

  _Archid._ They fight like devils;
  And run upon our swords, as if their breasts
  Were proof beyond their armour.

_Re-enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.

  _Timag._ Make a firm stand.
  The slaves, not satisfied they have beat us off,
  Prepare to sally forth.

  _Timol._ They are wild beasts,
  And to be tamed by policy. Each man take
  A tough whip in his hand, such as you used
  To punish them with, as masters: in your looks
  Carry severity and awe: 'twill fright them
  More than your weapons. Savage lions fly from
  The sight of fire; and these, that have forgot
  That duty you ne'er taught them with your swords,
  When, unexpected, they behold those terrors
  Advanced aloft, that they were made to shake at,
  'Twill force them to remember what they are,
  And stoop to due obedience.

  _Archid._ Here they come.

_Enter from the City_, CIMBRIO, GRACCULO, _and other Slaves_.

  _Cimb._ Leave not a man alive; a wound's but a flea-biting,
  To what we suffer'd, being slaves.

  _Grac._ O, my heart!
  Cimbrio, what do we see? the whip! our masters!

  _Timag._ Dare you rebel, slaves!
     [_The Senators shake their whips, the Slaves
      throw away their weapons, and run off[123]._

  _Cimb._ Mercy! mercy! where
  Shall we hide us from their fury?

  _Grac._ Fly, they follow.
  O, we shall be tormented!

  _Timol._ Enter with them,
  But yet forbear to kill them: still remember
  They are part of your wealth; and being disarm'd,
  There is no danger.

  _Archid._ Let us first deliver
  Such as they have in fetters, and at leisure
  Determine of their punishment.

  _Leost._ Friend, to you
  I leave the disposition of what's mine:
  I cannot think I am safe without your sister,
  She is only worth my thought; and, till I see
  What she has suffer'd, I am on the rack,
  And Furies my tormentors.               [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[121] _As_ is, in this passage, an ellipsis of _that_, as usual. Some
      of the incidents mentioned in this speech, Massinger derived from
      Plutarch--GIFFORD.

[122] Mar. _A general pardon_, &c.] It is evident, from the
      unreasonable nature of these demands, that Pisander does not wish
      them to be accepted. The last article, indeed, has a reference to
      himself, but he seems desirous of previously trying the fortune of
      arms. See, however, the next scene, and his defence in the last
      act.--GIFFORD.

[123] Herodotus relates this tale, and Justin repeats it. Massinger
      may have taken it from Purchas's Pilgrims, a book that formed the
      delight of our ancestors; and in which it is said, that the
      Boiards of Noviorogod reduced their slaves, who had seized the
      town, by the whip, just as the Scythians are said to have done
      theirs.

                         SCENE III.

         _Syracuse. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ MARULLO _and_ TIMANDRA.

  _Mar._ I know I am pursued; nor would I fly,
  Although the ports were open, and a convoy
  Ready to bring me off: the baseness of
  These villains, from the pride of all my hopes,
  Hath thrown me to the bottomless abyss
  Of horror and despair: had they stood firm,
  I could have bought Cleora's free consent
  With the safety of her father's life, and brother's;
  And forced Leosthenes to quit his claim,
  And kneel a suitor for me.

  _Timand._ You must not think
  What might have been, but what must now be practised,
  And suddenly resolve.

  _Mar._ All my poor fortunes
  Are at the stake, and I must run the hazard.
  Unseen, convey me to Cleora's chamber;
  For in her sight, if it were possible,
  I would be apprehended: do not inquire
  The reason why, but help me.      [_Knocking within._

  _Timand._ Make haste,--one knocks.
                              [_Exit_ MARULLO.
  Jove turn all to the best!

_Enter_ LEOSTHENES.

                             You are welcome, sir.

  _Leost._ Thou giv'st it in a heavy tone.

  _Timand._ Alas! sir,
  We have so long fed on the bread of sorrow,
  Drinking the bitter water of afflictions,
  Made loathsome too by our continued fears,
  Comfort 's a stranger to us.

  _Leost._ Fears! your sufferings:--[124]
  For which I am so overgone with grief,
  I dare not ask, without compassionate tears,
  The villain's name that robb'd thee of thy honour:
  For being train'd up in chastity's cold school,
  And taught by such a mistress as Cleora,
  'Twere impious in me to think Timandra
  Fell with her own consent.

  _Timand._ How mean you, fell, sir?
  I understand you not.

  _Leost._ I would thou didst not,
  Or that I could not read upon thy face,
  In blushing characters, the story of
  Libidinous rape: confess it, for you stand not
  Accountable for a sin, against whose strength
  Your o'ermatch'd innocence could make no resistance;
  Under which odds, I know, Cleora fell too,
  Heaven's help in vain invoked; the amazed sun
  Hiding his face behind a mask of clouds,
  Nor daring to look on it! In her sufferings
  All sorrow's comprehended: what Timandra,
  Or the city, has endured, her loss consider'd,
  Deserves not to be named.

  _Timand._ Pray you, do not bring, sir,
  In the chimeras of your jealous fears,
  New monsters to affright us.

  _Leost._ O, Timandra,
  That I had faith enough but to believe thee!
  I should receive it with a joy beyond
  Assurance of Elysian shades hereafter,
  Or all the blessings, in this life, a mother
  Could wish her children crown'd with--but I must not
  Credit impossibilities; yet I strive
  To find out that whose knowledge is a curse,
  And ignorance a blessing. Come, discover
  What kind of look he had that forced thy lady,
  (Thy ravisher I will inquire at leisure),
  That when, hereafter, I behold a stranger
  But near him in aspect, I may conclude,
  Though men and angels should proclaim him honest,
  He is a hell bred villain.

  _Timand._ You are unworthy
  To know she is preserved, preserved untainted:
  Sorrow, but ill bestow'd, hath only made
  A rape upon her comforts in your absence.
  Come forth, dear madam.       [_Leads in_ CLEORA.

  _Leost._ Ha!      [_Kneels._

  _Timand._ Nay, she deserves
  The bending of your heart; that, to content you,
  Has kept a vow, the breach of which a Vestal,
  Though the infringing it had call'd upon her
  A living funeral,[125] must of force have shrunk at.
  No danger could compel her to dispense with
  Her cruel penance, though hot lust came arm'd
  To seize upon her; when one look or accent
  Might have redeem'd her.

  _Leost._ Might! O do not show me
  A beam of comfort, and straight take it from me.
  The means by which she was freed? speak, O speak quickly;
  Each minute of delay 's an age of torment;
  O speak, Timandra.

  _Timand._ Free her from her oath;
  Herself can best deliver it.

  _Leost._ O blest office!      [_Unbinds her eyes._
  Never did galley-slave shake off his chains,
  Or look'd on his redemption from the oar,
  With such true feeling of delight, as now
  I find myself possessed of.--Now I behold
  True light indeed; for, since these fairest stars,
  Cover'd with clouds of your determinate will,
  Denied their influence to my optic sense,
  The splendour of the sun appear'd to me
  But as some little glimpse of his bright beams
  Convey'd into a dungeon, to remember[126]
  The dark inhabitants there, how much they wanted.
  Open these long-shut lips, and strike mine ears
  With music more harmonious than the spheres
  Yield in their heavenly motions: and if ever
  A true submission for a crime acknowledged
  May find a gracious hearing, teach your tongue,
  In the first sweet articulate sounds it utters,
  To sign my wish'd-for pardon.

  _Cleo._ I forgive you.

  _Leost._ How greedily I receive this! Stay, best lady,
  And let me by degrees ascend the height
  Of human happiness! all at once deliver'd,
  The torrent of my joys will overwhelm me:--
  So! now a little more; and pray excuse me,
  If, like a wanton epicure, I desire
  The pleasant taste these cates of comfort yield me,
  Should not too soon be swallow'd. Have you not,
  By your unspotted truth I do conjure you
  To answer truly, suffer'd in your honour,
  By force, I mean, for in your will I free you,
  Since I left Syracusa?

  _Cleo._ I restore
  This kiss, so help me goodness! which I borrow'd,
  When I last saw you.

  _Leost._ Miracle of virtue!
  One pause more, I beseech you: I am like
  A man whose vital spirits consumed and wasted
  With a long and tedious fever, unto whom
  Too much of a strong cordial, at once taken,
  Brings death, and not restores him. Yet I cannot
  Fix here; but must inquire the man to whom
  I stand indebted for a benefit,
  Which to requite at full, though in this hand
  I grasp all sceptres the world's empire bows to,
  Would leave me a poor bankrupt. Name him, lady;
  If of a mean estate, I'll gladly part with
  My utmost fortunes to him; but if noble,
  In thankful duty study how to serve him;
  Or if of higher rank, erect him altars,
  And as a god adore him.

  _Cleo._ If that goodness,
  And noble temperance, the queen of virtues,
  Bridling rebellious passions, to whose sway,
  Such as have conquer'd nations have lived slaves,
  Did ever wing great minds to fly to heaven,
  He, that preserved mine honour, may hope boldly
  To fill a seat among the gods, and shake off
  Our frail corruption.

  _Leost._ Forward.

  _Cleo._ Or if ever
  The Powers above did mask in human shapes,
  To teach mortality, not by cold precepts
  Forgot as soon as told, but by examples,
  To imitate their pureness, and draw near
  To their celestial natures, I believe
  He's more than man.

  _Leost._ You do describe a wonder.

  _Cleo._ Which will increase, when you shall understand
  He was a lover.

  _Leost._ Not yours, lady?

  _Cleo._ Yes;
  Loved me, Leosthenes; nay, more, so doted,
  (If e'er affections scorning gross desires
  May without wrong be styled so,) that he durst not,
  With an immodest syllable or look,
  In fear it might take from me, whom he made
  The object of his better part, discover
  I was the saint he sued to.

  _Leost._ A rare temper!

  _Cleo._ I cannot speak it to the worth: all praise
  I can bestow upon it will appear
  Envious detraction. Not to rack you further,
  Yet make the miracle full, though, of all men,
  He hated you, Leosthenes, as his rival,
  So high yet he prized my content, that, knowing
  You were a man I favour'd, he disdain'd not,
  Against himself, to serve you.

  _Leost._ You conceal still
  The owner of these excellencies.

  _Cleo._ 'Tis Marullo,
  My father's bondman.

  _Leost._ Ha, ha, ha!

  _Cleo._ Why do you laugh?

  _Leost._ To hear the labouring mountain of your praise
  Deliver'd of a mouse.

  _Cleo._ The man deserves not
  This scorn, I can assure you.

  _Leost._ Do you call
  What was his duty, merit?

  _Cleo._ Yes, and place it
  As high in my esteem, as all the honours
  Descended from your ancestors, or the glory,
  Which you may call your own, got in this action,
  In which, I must confess, you have done nobly;
  And I could add, as I desired, but that
  I fear 't would make you proud.

  _Leost._ Why, lady, can you
  Be won to give allowance, that your slave
  Should dare to love you?

  _Cleo._ The immortal gods
  Accept the meanest altars, that are raised
  By pure devotions; and sometimes prefer
  An ounce of frankincense, honey, or milk,
  Before whole hecatombs, or Sabæan gums,
  Offer'd in ostentation.--Are you sick
  Of your old disease? I'll fit you.      [_Aside._

  _Leost._ You seem moved.

  _Cleo._ Zealous, I grant, in the defence of virtue.
  Why, good Leosthenes, though I endured
  A penance for your sake, above example;
  I have not so far sold myself, I take it,
  To be at your devotion, but I may
  Cherish desert in others, where I find it.
  How would you tyrannize, if you stood possess'd of
  That which is only yours in expectation,
  That now prescribe such hard conditions to me?

  _Leost._ One kiss, and I am silenced.

  _Cleo._ I vouchsafe it;
  Yet, I must tell you 'tis a favour that
  Marullo, when I was his, not mine own,
  Durst not presume to ask: no; when the city
  Bow'd humbly to licentious violence,
  And when I was, of men and gods forsaken,
  Deliver'd to his power, he did not press me
  To grace him with one look or syllable,
  Or urged the dispensation of an oath
  Made for your satisfaction:--the poor wretch,
  Having related only his own sufferings,
  And kiss'd my hand, which I could not deny him,
  Defending me from others, never since
  Solicited my favours.

  _Leost._ Pray you, end:
  The story does not please me.

  _Cleo._ Well, take heed
  Of doubts and fears;--for know, Leosthenes,
  A greater injury cannot be offer'd
  To innocent chastity, than unjust suspicion.
  I love Marullo's fair mind, not his person;
  Let that secure you. And I here command you,
  If I have any power in you, to stand
  Between him and all punishment, and oppose
  His temperance to his folly: if you fail----
  No more; I will not threaten.              [_Exit._

  _Leost._ What a bridge
  Of glass I walk upon, over a river
  Of certain ruin, mine own weighty fears
  Cracking what should support me! and those helps,
  Which confidence lends to others, are from me
  Ravish'd by doubts, and wilful jealousy.      [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[124] Leost. _Fears! your sufferings_:--] The character of Leosthenes
      is every where preserved with great nicety. His jealous
      disposition breaks out in this scene with peculiar
      beauty.--GIFFORD.

[125] _Though the infringing it had call'd upon her
      A living funeral_, &c.] The poet alludes to the manner in which
      the Vestals, who had broken their vow of chastity, were punished.
      They had literally a _living funeral_, being plunged alive into a
      subterraneous cavern, of which the opening was immediately closed
      upon them, and walled up. The confusion of countries and customs
      may possibly strike the critical reader; but of this, as I have
      already observed, our old dramatists were either not aware or not
      solicitous.--GIFFORD.

[126] _To remember_,] i. e. _to remind_, in which sense it frequently
      occurs in our old writers.

                          SCENE IV.

                 _Another Room in the same._

_Enter_ TIMAGORAS, CLEON, ASOTUS, CORISCA, _and_ OLYMPIA.

  _Cleon._ But are you sure we are safe?

  _Timag._ You need not fear;
  They are all under guard, their fangs pared off:
  The wounds their insolence gave you, to be cured
  With the balm of your revenge.

  _Asot._ And shall I be
  The thing I was born, my lord?

  _Timag._ The same wise thing.
  'Slight, what a beast they have made thee! Afric never
  Produced the like.

  _Asot._ I think so:--nor the land
  Where apes and monkeys grow, like crabs and walnuts,
  On the same tree. Not all the catalogue
  Of conjurers or wise women bound together
  Could have so soon transform'd me, as my rascal
  Did with his whip; for not in outside only,
  But in my own belief, I thought myself
  As perfect a baboon----

  _Timag._ An ass thou wert ever.

  _Asot._ And would have given one leg, with all my heart,
  For good security to have been a man
  After three lives, or one and twenty years,
  Though I had died on crutches.

  _Cleon._ Never varlets
  So triumph'd o'er an old fat man: I was famish'd.

  _Timag._ Indeed you are fallen away.

  _Asot._ Three years of feeding
  On cullises and jelly, though his cooks
  Lard all he eats with marrow, or his doctors
  Pour in his mouth restoratives as he sleeps,
  Will not recover him.

  _Timag._ But your ladyship looks
  Sad on the matter, as if you had miss'd
  Your ten-crown amber possets, good to smooth
  The cutis, as you call it.

  _Coris._ Pray you, forbear;
  I am an alter'd woman.

  _Timag._ So it seems;
  A part of your honour's ruff stands out of rank too.

  _Coris._ No matter, I have other thoughts.

  _Timag._ O strange!
  Not ten days since it would have vex'd you more
  Than the loss of your good name.

_Enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ DIPHILUS _with a Guard_.

                                   How now, friend!
  Looks our Cleora lovely?

  _Leost._ In my thoughts, sir.

  _Timag._ But why this guard?

  _Diph._ It is Timoleon's pleasure:
  The slaves have been examined, and confess
  Their riot took beginning from your house;
  And the first mover of them to rebellion
  Your slave Marullo.      [_Exeunt_ DIPH. _and Guard_.

  _Leost._ Ha! I more than fear.

  _Timag._ They may search boldly.

_Enter_ TIMANDRA, _speaking to the Guard within_.

  _Timand._ You are unmanner'd grooms.
  To pry into my lady's private lodgings:
  There's no Marullos there.

_Re-enter_ DIPHILUS, _and Guard, with_ MARULLO.

  _Timag._ Now I suspect too.
  Where found you him?

  _Diph._ Close hid in your sister's chamber.

  _Timag._ Is that the villain's sanctuary?

  _Leost._ This confirms
  All she deliver'd, false.

  _Timag._ But that I scorn
  To rust my good sword in thy slavish blood,
  Thou now wert dead.

  _Mar._ He's more a slave than fortune
  Or misery can make me, that insults
  Upon unweapon'd innocence.

  _Timag._ Prate you, dog?

  _Mar._ Curs snap at lions in the toil, whose looks
  Frighted them, being free.

  _Timag._ As a wild beast,
  Drive him before you.

  _Mar._ O divine Cleora!

  _Leost._ Darest thou presume to name her?

  _Mar._ Yes, and love her;
  And may say, have deserved her.

  _Timag._ Stop his mouth,
  Load him with irons too.
                     [_Exit Guard with_ MARULLO.

  _Cleon._ I am deadly sick
  To look on him.

  _Asot._ If he get loose, I know it,
  I caper like an ape again: I feel
  The whip already.

  _Timand._ This goes to my lady.      [_Exit._

  _Timag._ Come, cheer you, sir; we'll urge his punishment
  To the full satisfaction of your anger.

  _Leost._ He is not worth my thoughts. No corner left
  In all the spacious rooms of my vex'd heart,
  But is fill'd with Cleora: and the rape
  She has done upon her honour, with my wrong,
  The heavy burden of my sorrow's song.      [_Exeunt._

                       ACT V. SCENE I.

         _The same. A Room in_ ARCHIDAMUS'_s House_.

_Enter_ ARCHIDAMUS _and_ CLEORA.

  _Archid._ Thou art thine own disposer. Were his honours
  And glories centupled, as I must confess,
  Leosthenes is most worthy, yet I will not,
  However I may counsel, force affection.

  _Cleo._ It needs not, sir; I prize him to his worth,
  Nay, love him truly; yet would not live slaved
  To his jealous humours: since, by the hopes of heaven,
  As I am free from violence, in a thought
  I am not guilty.

  _Archid._ 'Tis believed, Cleora;
  And much the rather, our great gods be praised for 't!
  In that I find, beyond my hopes, no sign
  Of riot in my house, but all things order'd,
  As if I had been present.

  _Cleo._ May that move you
  To pity poor Marullo!

  _Archid._ 'Tis my purpose
  To do him all the good I can, Cleora;
  But this offence, being against the state,
  Must have a public trial. In the mean time,
  Be careful of yourself, and stand engaged
  No further to Leosthenes, than you may
  Come off with honour; for, being once his wife,
  You are no more your own, nor mine, but must
  Resolve to serve, and suffer his commands,
  And not dispute them:--ere it be too late,
  Consider it duly. I must to the senate.      [_Exit._

  _Cleo._ I am much distracted: in Leosthenes
  I can find nothing justly to accuse,
  But his excess of love, which I have studied
  To cure with more than common means; yet still
  It grows upon him. And, if I may call
  My sufferings merit, I stand bound to think on
  Marullo's dangers--though I save his life,
  His love is unrewarded:--I confess,
  Both have deserved me; yet, of force, must be
  Unjust to one; such is my destiny.--

_Enter_ TIMANDRA.

  How now! whence flow these tears?

  _Timand._ I have met, madam,
  An object of such cruelty, as would force
  A savage to compassion.

  _Cleo._ Speak, what is it?

  _Timand._ Men pity beasts of rapine, if o'ermatch'd,
  Though baited for their pleasure: but these monsters
  Upon a man that can make no resistance,
  Are senseless in their tyranny. Let it be granted
  Marullo is a slave, he's still a man;
  A capital offender, yet in justice
  Not to be tortured, till the judge pronounce
  His punishment.

  _Cleo._ Where is he?

  _Timand._ Dragg'd to prison
  With more than barbarous violence; spurn'd and spit on
  By the insulting officers, his hands
  Pinion'd behind his back; loaden with fetters:
  Yet, with a saint-like patience, he still offers
  His face to their rude buffets.

  _Cleo._ O my grieved soul!--
  By whose command?

  _Timand._ It seems, my lord your brother's,
  For he's a looker-on: and it takes from
  Honour'd Leosthenes to suffer it,
  For his respect to you, whose name in vain
  The grieved wretch loudly calls on.

  _Cleo._ By Diana,
  'Tis base in both; and to their teeth I'll tell them
  That I am wrong'd in 't.             [_Going forth._

  _Timand._ What will you do?

  _Cleo._ In person
  Visit and comfort him.

  _Timand._ That will bring fuel
  To the jealous fires which burn too hot already
  In lord Leosthenes.

  _Cleo._ Let them consume him!
  I am mistress of myself. Where cruelty reigns,
  There dwells nor love nor honour.         [_Exit._

  _Timand._ So! it works.
  Though hitherto I have run a desperate course
  To serve my brother's purposes, now 'tis fit

_Enter_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.

  I study mine own ends. They come:--assist me
  In these my undertakings, Love's great patron,
  As my intents are honest!

  _Leost._ 'Tis my fault[127]:
  Distrust of other springs, Timagoras,
  From diffidence in ourselves: but I will strive,
  With the assurance of my worth and merits,
  To kill this monster, jealousy.

  _Timag._ 'Tis a guest,
  In wisdom, never to be entertain'd
  On trivial probabilities; but, when
  He does appear in pregnant proofs, not fashion'd
  By idle doubts and fears to be received:
  They make their own wrongs that are too secure,
  As well as such as give them growth and being
  From mere imagination. Though I prize
  Cleora's honour equal with mine own,
  And know what large additions of power
  This match brings to our family, I prefer
  Our friendship, and your peace of mind, so far
  Above my own respects, or hers, that if
  She hold not her true value in the test,
  'Tis far from my ambition, for her cure,
  That you should wound yourself.

  _Timand._ This argues for me.      [_Aside._

  _Timag._ Why she should be so passionate for a bondman,
  Falls not in compass of my understanding,
  But for some nearer interest; or he raise
  This mutiny, if he loved her, as, you say,
  She does confess he did, but to possess
  The prize he ventured for, to me's a riddle.

  _Leost._ I have answer'd that objection, in my strong
  Assurance of her virtue.

  _Timag._ 'Tis unfit, then,
  That I should press it further.

  _Timand._ Now I must
  Make in, or all is lost.
                       [_Rushes forward distractedly._

  _Timag._ What would Timandra?

  _Leost._ How wild she looks! How is it with thy lady?

  _Timag._ Collect thyself, and speak.

  _Timand._ As you are noble,
  Have pity, or love piety.--Oh!

  _Leost._ Take breath.

  _Timag._ Out with it boldly.

  _Timand._ O, the best of ladies,
  I fear, is gone for ever.

  _Leost._ Who, Cleora?

  _Timag._ Deliver, how? 'Sdeath, be a man, sir!--Speak.

  _Timand._ Take it then in as many sighs as words, My lady----

  _Timag._ What of her?

  _Timand._ No sooner heard
  Marullo was imprison'd, but she fell
  Into a deadly swoon.

  _Timag._ But she recover'd:
  Say so, or he will sink too. Hold, sir; fie!
  This is unmanly.

  _Timand._ Brought again to life,
  But with much labour, she awhile stood silent,
  Yet in that interim vented sighs, as if
  They labour'd, from the prison of her flesh,
  To give her grieved soul freedom. On the sudden,
  Transported on the wings of rage and sorrow,
  She flew out of the house, and, unattended,
  Enter'd the common prison.

  _Leost._ This confirms
  What but before I fear'd.

  _Timand._ There you may find her;
  And, if you love her as a sister----

  _Timag._ Damn her!

  _Timand._ Or you respect her safety as a lover,
  Procure Marullo's liberty.

  _Timag._ Impudence
  Beyond expression!

  _Timand._ She'll run mad, else,
  Or do some violent act upon herself:
  My lord, her father, sensible of her sufferings,
  Labours to gain his freedom.

  _Leost._ O, the devil!
  Has she bewitch'd him too?

  _Timag._ I'll hear no more.
  Come, sir, we'll follow her; and if no persuasion
  Can make her take again her natural form,
  Which by some powerful spell she has cast off,
  This sword shall disenchant her.

  _Leost._ O my heart-strings!
            [_Exeunt_ LEOSTHENES _and_ TIMAGORAS.

  _Timand._ I knew 't would take. Pardon me, fair Cleora,
  Though I appear a traitress; which thou wilt do,
  In pity of my woes, when I make known
  My lawful claim, and only seek mine own.      [_Exit._

FOOTNOTE:

[127] _My fault_:] i. e. _my misfortune_. That the word anciently had
      this meaning could be proved by many examples; _e. g._

      _Marina._ The more my _fault_,
      To scape his hands, where I was like to die."
                                  _Pericles_, Act IV. sc. iii.

                          SCENE II.

         _A Prison._ MARULLO _discovered in chains_.

_Enter_ CLEORA _and Gaoler_.

  _Cleo._ There's for your privacy. Stay, unbind his hands.

  _Gaol._ I dare not, madam.

  _Cleo._ I will buy thy danger: