 
Love. What, Death and Fortune cross the way of Love? Fortune. Why, what is Love but Fortune's tennis-ball? Death. Nay, what are you both, but subjects unto Death? And I command you to forbear this place; For here the mouth of sad Melpomene Is wholly bent to tragedy's discourse: And what are tragedies but acts of death? And loud laments, to tell a dismal tale— A tale, wherein she lately hath bestow'd The husky humour of her bloody quill, And now for tables takes her to her tongue. Love. Why, thinks Death Love knows not the history Of brave Erastus and his Rhodian dame? 'Twas I that made their hearts consent to love; And therefore come I now as fittest person To serve for chorus to this tragedy: Had I not been, they had not died so soon. Death. Had I not been, they had not died so soon. Fortune. Nay then, it seems, you both do miss the mark: Did not I change long love to sudden hate; And then rechange their hatred into love; And then from love deliver them to death? Fortune is Chorus; Love and Death, begone! Death. I tell thee, Fortune, and thee, wanton Love, I will not down to everlasting night, Till I have moralis'd this tragedy, Whose chiefest actor was my sable dart. Love. Nor will I up unto the brightsome sphere From whence I sprang, till in the chorus' place I make it known to you and to the world, What interest Love hath in tragedies. Fortune. Nay then, though Fortune have delight in change, I'll stay my flight, and cease to turn my wheel, Till I have shown by demonstration, What int'rest I have in a tragedy: Tush! Fortune can do more than Love or Death. Love. Why stay we, then? let's give the actors leave; And, as occasion serves, make our return. [Exeunt.
Erastus. Why when, Perseda? wilt thou not assure me, But shall I, like a mastless ship at sea, Go ev'ry way, and not the way I would? My love hath lasted from mine infancy, And still increased, as I grew myself. When did Perseda pastime in the streets, But her Erastus over-ey'd her sport? When didst thou, with thy sampler in the sun, Sit sewing with thy pheers, but I was by, Marking thy lily hand's dexterity; Comparing it to twenty gracious things? When didst thou sing a note that I could hear, Figuring Perseda twenty kind of ways? When didst thou go to church on holidays, But I have waited on thee to and fro, Marking my times, as falcons watch their flight? When I have miss'd thee, how I have lamented, As if my thoughts had been assured true! Thus in my youth; now, since I grew a man, I have persevered to let thee know The meaning of my true heart's constancy, Then be not nice, Perseda, as women wont To hasty lovers, whose fancy soon is fled; My love is of a long continuance, And merits not a stranger's recompense. Perseda. Enough, Erastus, thy Perseda knows; She whom thou wouldst have thine, Erastus, knows. Erastus. Nay, my Perseda knows, and then 'tis well. Perseda. Ay, watch you[r] vantages? thine be it then— I have forgot the rest, but that's th' effect; Which to effect, accept this carcanet: My grandam on her deathbed gave it me, And there, ev'n there, I vow'd unto myself To keep the same, until my wand'ring eye Should find a harbour for my heart to dwell. Ev'n in thy breast do I elect my rest; Let in my heart to keep thine company. Erastus. And, sweet Perseda, accept this ring To equal it: receive my heart to boot; It is no boot, for that was thine before: And far more welcome is this change to me, Than sunny days to naked savages, That waiteth for the fearful stroke of death: As careful will I be to keep this chain, As doth the mother keep her children From water-pits or falling in the fire. Over mine armour will I hang this chain; And, when long combat makes my body faint, The sight of this shall show Perseda's name, And add fresh courage to my fainting limbs. This day the eager Turk of Tripolis, The knight of Malta, honour'd for his worth, And he that's titled by the golden spur, The Moor upon his hot Barbarian horse, The fiery Spaniard, bearing in his face The impress of a noble warrior, The sudden Frenchman and the big-bon'd Dane, And English archers, hardy men-at-arms, I-cleped Lions of the western world: Each one of these approved combatants, Assembled from sev'ral corners of the world, Are hither come to try their force in arms, In honour of the Prince of Cyprus' nuptials. Amongst these worthies will Erastus troop, Though like a gnat amongst a hive of bees: Know me by this thy precious carcanet: And, if I thrive in valour, as the glass, That takes the sunbeams burning with his force, I'll be the glass, and thou that heav'nly sun, From whence I'll borrow what I do achieve: And, sweet Perseda, unnoted though I be, Thy beauty yet shall make me known ere night. Perseda. Young slips are never graff'd in windy days; Young scholars never enter'd with the rod. Ah, my Erastus, these That carry honour graven in their helms, And they must win it dear, that win it thence: Let not my beauty prick thee to thy bane; Better sit still than rise and overta'en. Erastus. Counsel me not, for my intent is sworn, And be my fortune, as my love deserves! Perseda. So be thy fortune, as thy features serve, And then Erastus lives without compare.
Here comes a messenger to haste me hence.— I know your message, hath the princess Sent for me? Messenger. She hath, and Desires you to consort her to the triumphs. [Exit.
Piston. Who saw my master? O sir, are you here? The prince and all th' outlandish Are ready to go to the triumphs; They stay for you. Erastus. Go, sirrah, Bid my men bring my horse, and a dozen staves. Piston. You shall have your horses, and two dozen of staves. [Exit Piston. Erastus. Wish me good hap, Perseda, and I'll win Such glory, as no time shall e'er rase out; Or end the period of my youth in blood. Perseda. Such fortune as the good Andromache Wish'd valiant Hector, 'rounded I wish Erastus in his maiden wars: O'ercome with valour these high-minded knights, As with thy virtue thou hast conquer'd me. Heav'ns hear my hearty prayer, and it effect. [Exeunt.
Philippo. Brave knights of Christendom, and Turkish both, Assembled here in thirsty honour's cause, To be enrolled in the brass-leav'd book Of never-wasting perpetuity, Put lamblike mildness to your lion's strength, And be our tilting like two brothers' sports, That exercise their war with friendly blows. Brave prince of Cyprus and our son-in-law, Welcome these worthies by their sev'ral countries; For in thy honour hither are they come, To grace thy nuptials with their deeds at arms. Cyprus. First, welcome, thrice renowned Englishman, Graced by thy country, but ten times more By thy approved valour in the field; Upon the onset of the enemy, What is thy motto, when thou spurr'st thy horse? Englishman. In Scotland was I made a knight-at-arms, Where for my country's cause I charg'd my lance: In France I took the standard from the king, And gave the flower of Gallia in my crest: Against the light-foot Irish have I serv'd, And in my skin bear tokens of their Kerns. Our word of courage all the world hath heard, Saint George for England, and Saint George for me! Cyprus. Like welcome unto thee, fair knight of France, Well-fam'd thou art for discipline in war: Upon th' encounter of thine enemy, What is thy mot, renowned knight of France? Frenchman. In Italy I put my knighthood on, Where in my shirt but with a single rapier I combated a Roman much renown'd, His weapon's point empoison'd for my bane, And yet my stars did bode my victory. Saint Denis is for France, and that for me! Cyprus. Welcome, Castilian, too, amongst the rest; For fame doth sound thy valour with the best: Upon the first encounter of thy foe, What is thy word of courage, brave man of Spain? Spaniard. At fourteen years of age was I made knight, When twenty thousand Spaniards were in field, What time a daring rutter To change a bullet with our swift-flight shot; And I with single heed and level hit The haughty challenger, and struck him dead: The golden fleece is that we cry upon, And Jaques, Jaques! is the Spaniard's choice. Cyprus. Next, welcome unto thee, renowned Turk, Not for thy lay, but for thy worth in arms: Upon the first brave of thine enemy, What is thy noted word of charge, brave Turk? Brusor. Against the Sophy in three pitched fields, Under the conduct of great Soliman, Have I been chief commander of an host, And put the flint-heart Persians to the sword; The desert plains of Afric have I stain'd With blood of Moors, and there in three set battles fought, March'd conqueror through Asia, Along the coasts held by the Portuguese; Ev'n to the verge of gold, aboarding Hath Brusor led a valiant troop of Turks, And made some Christians kneel to Mahomet: Him we adore, and in his name I cry, Mahomet for me and Soliman! Cyprus. Now, Signior Basilisco, you we know, And therefore give not you a stranger's welcome; You are a rutter born in Germany: Upon the first encounter of your foe, What is your brave upon the enemy? Basilisco. I fight not with my tongue; this is my oratrix. [Laying his hand upon his sword. Cyprus. Why, Signior Basilisco, is it a she-sword? Basilisco. Ay, and so are all blades with me: behold my instance; PerdÈ, each female is the weaker vessel, And the vigour of this arm infringeth And thereby gather that this blade, Being approved weaker than this limb, May very well bear a feminine epitheton. Cyprus. 'Tis well prov'd; but what's the word that glories your country? Basilisco. Sooth to say, the earth is my country, As the air to the fowl or the marine moisture To the red-gill'd fish: I repute myself no coward: For humility shall mount: I keep no table To character my forepassed conflicts. As I remember, there happened a sore drought In some part of Belgia, that the juicy grass Was sear'd with the Sun-God's element: I held it policy to put the men-children Of that climate to the sword, That the mother's tears might relieve the parched earth. The men died, the women wept, and the grass grew; Else had my Friesland horse perished, Whose loss would have more grieved me Than the ruin of that whole country. Upon a time in Ireland I fought On horseback with an hundred Kerns From Titan's eastern uprise to his western downfal: Insomuch that my steed began to faint: I, conjecturing the cause to be want of water, dismounted, In which place there was no such element; Enraged therefore, [I] with this scimitar, All on foot, like an Herculean offspring, Endured some three or four hours' combat, In which process my body distill'd such dewy showers of sweat, That from the warlike wrinkles of my front My palfrey cool'd his thirst. My mercy in conquest is equal with my manhood in fight, The tear of an infant hath been the ransom of a conquer'd city; Rough words blow my choler, As the wind doth Mulciber's workhouse: I have no word, because no country: Each place is my habitation; Therefore each country's word mine to pronounce. Princes, what would you? I have seen much, heard more, But done most: to be brief, he that will try me, Let him waft me with his arm; I am his for some five lances: Although it go against my stars to jest, Yet to gratulate this benign prince, I will suppress my condition. Philippo. He is beholding to you greatly, sir: Mount, ye brave lordings, forwards to the tilt; Myself will censure of your chivalry, And with impartial eyes behold your deeds: Forward, brave ladies, place you to behold The fair demeanour of these warlike knights. [Exeunt.
Basilisco. I am melancholy: an humour of Venus beleaguereth me. I have rejected with contemptible frowns The sweet glances of many amorous girls, or rather ladies: But, certÈs, I am now captivated with the reflecting eye Of that admirable comet Perseda. I will place her to behold my triumphs, And do wonders in her sight: O heav'ns! she comes, accompanied with a child, Whose chin bears no impression of manhood, Not an hair, not an excrement.
Erastus. My sweet Perseda! Basilisco. Peace, infant; thou blasphemest. [Exeunt Erastus and Perseda. Piston. You are deceived, sir; he swore not. Basilisco. I tell thee, jester, he did worse; he call'd that lady his. Piston. Jester! O extempore, O flores. Basilisco. O harsh, uneducate, illiterate peasant! Thou abusest the phrase of the Latin. Piston. By God's fish, friend, take you the Latin's part, I'll abuse you too. Basilisco. What, sance dread of our indignation? Piston. Sance? what language is that? I think thou art a word-maker by thine occupation. Basilisco. Ay? termest thou me of an occupation? Nay, then, this fiery humour of choler is suppress'd By the thought of love. Fair lady—— Piston. Now, by my troth, she is gone. Basilisco. Ay? hath the infant transported her hence? He saw my anger figured in my brow, And at his best advantage stole away; But I will follow for revenge. Piston. Nay, but hear you, sir; I must talk with you, before you go. [Piston gets on his back, and pulls him down. Basilisco. O, if thou be'st magnanimous, come before me. Piston. Nay, if thou be'st a right warrior, get from under me. Basilisco. What, wouldst thou have me a Typhon, To bear up Pelion or Ossa? Piston. Typhon me no Typhons, But swear upon my dudgeon-dagger, Not to go, till I give thee leave; But stay with me, and look upon the tilters. Basilisco. O, thou seekest thereby to dim my glory. Piston. I care not for that; wilt thou not swear? Basilisco. O, I swear, I swear. [He sweareth him on his dagger. Piston. By the contents of this blade,— Basilisco. By the contents of this blade,— Piston. I, the aforesaid Basilisco,— Basilisco. Piston. Knave, good fellow; knave, knave: Will not offer to go from the side of Piston,— Basilisco. Will not offer to go from the side of Piston,— Piston. Without the leave of the said Piston obtained. Basilisco. Without the leave of the said Piston licensed, Obtain'd, and granted. Piston. Enjoy thy life, and live; I give it thee. Basilisco. I enjoy my life at thy hands, I confess it: I am up; but that I am religious in mine oath,— Piston. What would you do, sir? what would you do? Will you up the ladder, sir, and see the tilting? Basilisco. Better a dog fawn on me than bark. [Aside. Piston. Now, sir, how lik'st thou this course? Basilisco. Their lances were couch'd too high, And their steeds ill-borne. Piston. It may be so, it may be so: [Sound to the second course. Now, sir, how like you this course? Basilisco. Pretty, pretty, but not famous; Well for a learner, but not for a warrior. Piston. By my faith, methought it was excellent. Basilisco. Ay, in the eye of an infant a peacock's tail is glorious. [Sound to the third course. Piston. O, well-run; the bay horse with the blue tail And the silver knight are both down: By cock and pie, The Englishman is a fine knight. Basilisco. Now, by the marble face of the welkin, He is a brave warrior. Piston. What an oath is there! fie upon thee, extortioner! Basilisco. Now comes in the infant, that courts my mistress. [Sound to the fourth course. O, that my lance were in my rest, And my beaver clos'd for this encounter. Piston. O, well-run; my master hath overthrown the Turk. Basilisco. Now fie upon the Turk; To be dismounted by a child, it vexeth me. [Sound to the fifth course. Piston. O, well-run, master; he hath overthrown the Frenchman. Basilisco. It is the fury of his horse, not the strength of his arm. I would thou wouldst remit my oath, That I might assail thy master. Piston. I give thee leave, go to thy destruction: But, sirrah, where's thy horse?
Why, my page stands holding him by the bridle. Piston. Well, go, mount thee, go. Basilisco. I go, and fortune guide my lance. [Exit Basilisco. Piston. Take the bragging'st knave in Christendom with thee— Truly, I am sorry for him: He just like a knight! he'll just like a jade. It is a world to hear the fool prate and brag; He will jet as if it were a goose on a green: He goes many times supperless to bed, And yet he takes physic to make him lean. Last night he was bidden to a gentlewoman's to supper, And, because he would not be put to carve, He wore his hand in a scarf, and said he was wounded. He wears a colour'd lath in his scabbard, And, when 'twas found upon him, he said he was wrathful, He might not wear iron: he wears civet, And, when it was ask'd him where he had that musk, He said all his kindred smelt so. Is not this a counterfeit fool? Well; I'll up, and see how he speeds. [Sound the sixth course. Now, by the faith of a 'squire, he is a very faint knight; Why, my master hath overthrown him And his curtal both to the ground: I shall have old laughing, It will be better than the fox-in-the-hole [Sound.
Cyprus. Brave gentlemen, by all your free consents, This knight unknown hath best demean'd himself: According to the proclamation made, But now unmask thyself that we may see What warlike wrinkles time hath charactered With age's print upon thy warlike face. Englishman. Accord to his request, brave man-at-arms, And let me see the face that vanquish'd me. Frenchman. Unmask thyself, thou well-approved knight. Turk. I long to see thy face, brave warrior. Lucina. Nay, valiant sir, we may not be denied, Fair ladies should be coy to show their faces, Lest that the sun should tan them with his beams: I'll be your page this once for to disarm you. Piston. That's the reason, that he shall help Your husband to arm his head. O, the policy of this age is wonderful. Philippo. What, young Erastus! is it possible? Cyprus. Erastus, be thou honour'd for this deed. Englishman. So young, and of such good accomplishment! Thrive, fair beginner, as this time doth promise, In virtue, valour, and all worthiness: Give me thy hand, I vow myself thy friend. Erastus. Thanks, worthy sir, whose favourable hand Hath enter'd such a youngling in the war; And thanks unto you all, brave worthy sirs: Impose me task, how I may do you good; Erastus will be dutiful in all. Philippo. Leave protestations now, and let us hie To tread lavolto, that is women's walk; [Exeunt. Manet Ferdinando. Ferdinando. Though overborne, and foiled in my course, Yet have I partners in mine infamy. 'Tis wondrous, that so young a toward warrior Should bide the shock of such approved knights, As he this day hath match'd and mated too: But virtue should not envy good desert, Therefore, Erastus, happy laud thy fortune: But my Lucina, how she chang'd her colour, When at th' encounter I did lose a stirrup; Hanging her head, as partner of my shame. Therefore now will I go visit her, And please her with this carcanet of worth, Which by good fortune I have found to-day; When valour fails, then must gold make the way. [Exit.
Basilisco. O cursed fortune, enemy to fame, Thus to disgrace thy honoured name, By overthrowing him that far hath spread thy praise, Beyond the course of Titan's burning rays.
Page, set aside the gesture of my enemy; Give him a fiddler's fee, and send him packing. Piston. Ho, God save you, sir! have you burst your shin? Basilisco. Ay, villain; I have broken my shin-bone, My backbone, my channel Piston. A shrewd loss, by my faith, sir: But where's your courser's tail? Basilisco. He lost the same in service. Piston. There was a hot piece of service where he lost his tail; But how chanc'd Basilisco. For presumption, for covering the emperor's mare. Piston. Marry, a foul fault; but why are his ears cut? Basilisco. For neighing in the emperor's court. Piston. Why, then, thy horse hath been a colt in his time. Basilisco. True thou hast said. O, touch not the cheek of my palfrey, Lest he dismount me while my wounds are green: Page, run, bid the surgeon bring his incision: Yet, stay, I'll ride along with thee myself. [Exit. Piston. And I'll bear you company. [Piston getteth up on his ass, and rideth with him to the door, and meeteth the Crier.
Come, sirrah, let me see how finely You'll cry this chain. Crier. Why, what was it worth? Piston. It was worth more than thou and all thy kin are worth. Crier. It may be so; but what must he have that finds it? Piston. Why, a hundred crowns. Crier. Why, then, I'll have ten for the crying of it. Piston. Ten crowns! and had but sixpence For crying a little wench of thirty years old and upwards That had lost herself betwixt a tavern and a baudy-house. Crier. Ay, that was a wench, and this is gold; She was poor, but this is rich. Piston. Why, then, by this reck'ning, a hackney-man Should have ten shillings for horsing a gentlewoman, Where he hath but tenpence of a beggar. Crier. Why, and reason good; Let them pay that best may, As the lawyers use their rich clients, When they let the poor go under forma pauperis. Piston. Why then, I pray thee, cry the chain for me For money goes very low with me at this time. Crier. Ay, sir, but your master is, though you be not. Piston. Ay, but he must not know that thou cry'st the chain for me: I do but use thee to save me a labour, That am to make inquiry after it. Crier. Well, sir, you'll see me consider'd, will you not? Piston. Ay, marry, will I; why, what lighter payment Can there be than consideration? [Aside. Crier. O yes!
Erastus. How now, sirrah? what are you crying? Crier. A chain, sir, a chain, that your man bad me cry. Erastus. Get you away, sirrah, I advise you, Meddle with no chains of mine. [Exit Crier. You paltry knave, how durst thou be so bold To cry the chain, when I bid thou shouldst not? Did I not bid thee only underhand Make privy inquiry for it through the town, Lest public rumour might advertise her, Whose knowledge were to me a second death? Piston. Why, would you have me run up and down the town, And my shoes are done? Erastus. What you want in shoes, I'll give you in blows. [Beats him. Piston. I pray you, sir, hold your hands, And as I am an honest man, I'll do the best I can to find your chain. [Exit. Piston. Erastus. Ah, treacherous fortune! enemy to love, Didst thou advance me for my greater fall? In dallying war I lost my chiefest peace; In hunting after praise I lost my love, And in love's shipwreck will my life miscarry. Take thou the honour, and give me the chain, Wherein was link'd the sum of my delight. When she deliver'd me the carcanet, Keep it, quoth she, as thou wouldst keep myself. I kept it not, and therefore she is lost; And lost with her is all my happiness; And loss of happiness is worse than death. Come therefore, gentle death, and ease my grief. Cut short what malice Fortune misintends; But stay a while, good death, and let me live; Time may restore what Fortune took from me: Ah, no! great losses seldom are restored. What, if my chain shall never be restored? My innocence shall clear my negligence. Ah, but my love is ceremonious, And looks for justice at her lover's hand: Within forc'd furrows of her clouding brow, As storms that fall amid a sunshine day, I read her just desires and my decay. [Exit.
Soliman. I long, till Brusor be return'd from Rhodes, To know how he hath borne him 'gainst the Christians That are assembled there to try their valour: But more, to be well-assured by him, How Rhodes is fenc'd, and how I best may lay My never-failing siege to win that plot. For by the holy Alcoran I swear, I'll call my soldiers home from Persia, And let the Sophy breathe, and from the Russian broils Call home my hardy, dauntless janissaries, And from the other skirts of Christendom, Call home my bashaws and my men of war, And so beleaguer Rhodes by sea and land. That key will serve to open all the gates, Through which our passage cannot find a stop, Till it have prick'd the heart of Christendom, Which now that paltry island keeps from scathe. Say, brother Amurath, and, Haleb, say, What think you of our resolution? Amurath. Great Soliman, heav'n's only substitute, And earth's commander under Mahomet, So counsel I, as thou thyself hast said. Haleb. Pardon me, dread sov'reign, I hold it not Good policy to call your forces home From Persia and Polonia, bending them Upon a paltry isle of small defence: A common press of base, superfluous Turks May soon be levied for so slight a task. Ah, Soliman! whose name hath shak'd thy foes, As withered leaves with autumn thrown down, Fog not thy glory with so foul eclipse; Let not thy soldiers sound a base retire, Till Persia stoop, and thou be conqueror. What scandal were it to thy mightiness, After so many valiant bashaws slain, Whose blood hath been manured to their earth, Whose bones hath made their deep ways passable, Without a conquest or a mean Strive not for Rhodes by letting Persia slip; The one's a lion almost brought to death, Whose skin will countervail the hunter's toil: The other is a wasp with threat'ning sting, Whose honey is not worth the taking up. Amurath. Why, Haleb, didst thou not hear our brother swear Upon the Alcoran religiously, That he would make an universal camp Of all his scatter'd legions? and dar'st thou Infer a reason why it is not meet, After his highness swears it shall be so? Were it not thou art my father's son, And striving kindness wrestled not with ire, I would not hence till I had let thee know, What 'twere to thwart a monarch's holy oath. Haleb. Why, his highness gave me leave to speak my will: And, far from flattery, I spoke my mind, And did discharge a faithful subject's love: Thou, Aristippus Not like my brother or a man of worth. And for his highness' vow I cross'd it not; Now for thy chastisement know, Amurath, I scorn them, as a reckless lion scorns The humming of a gnat in summer's night. Amurath. I take it, Haleb, thou art friend to Rhodes. Haleb. Not half so much am I a friend to Rhodes, As thou art enemy to thy sovereign. Amurath. I charge thee, say wherein; or else, by Mahomet, I'll hazard duty in my sovereign's presence. Haleb. Not for thy threats, but for myself I say, It is not meet that one so base as thou Should'st come about the person of a king. Soliman. Must I give aim to this presumption? Amurath. Your highness knows, I spake in duteous love. Haleb. Your highness knows, I spake at your command, And to the purpose, far from flattery. Amurath. Think'st thou, I flatter? now I flatter not. [He kills Haleb. Soliman. What dismal planet guides this fatal hour? Villain, thy brother's groans do call for thee, [Soliman kills Amurath. To wander with them through eternal night. Amurath. O Soliman, for loving thee I die. Soliman. No, Amurath, for murthering him thou diest. O Haleb, how shall I begin to mourn, Or how shall I begin to shed salt tears, For whom no words nor tears can well suffice? Ah, that my rich imperial diadem Could satisfy thy cruel destiny! Or that a thousand of our Turkish souls, Or twenty thousand millions of our foes, Could ransom thee from fell death's tyranny! To win thy life would Soliman be poor, And live in servile bondage all my days. Accursed Amurath, that for a worthless cause In blood hath shortened our sweet Haleb's days! Ah, what is dearer bond than brotherhood? Yet, Amurath, thou wert my brother too, If wilful folly did not blind mine eyes; Ay, ay, and thou as virtuous as Haleb, And I as dear to thee as unto Haleb, And thou as near to me as Haleb was. Ah, Amurath! why wert thou so unkind To him for uttering but a thwarting word? And, Haleb, why did not thy heart's counsel Bridle the fond intemperance of thy tongue? Nay, wretched Soliman, why didst not thou Withhold thy hand from heaping blood on blood? Might I not better spare one joy than both? If love of Haleb forc'd me on to wrath, Curs'd be that wrath that is the way to death! If justice forc'd me on, curs'd be that justice, That makes the brother butcher of his brother!— Come, Janissaries, and help me to lament, And bear my joys on either side of me— Ay, late my joys, but now my lasting sorrow. Thus, thus, let Soliman pass on his way, Bearing in either hand his heart's decay. [Exeunt.
Love. Now, Death and Fortune, which of all us three Hath in the actors shown the greatest power? Have not I taught Erastus and Perseda By mutual tokens to seal up their loves? Fortune. Ay, but those tokens, the ring and carcanet, Were Fortune's gifts; Love gives no gold or jewels. Love. Why, what is jewels, or what is gold, but earth; An humour knit together by compression, And by the world's bright eye first brought to light, Only to feed men's eyes with vain delight? Love's works are more than of a mortal temper, I couple minds together by consent: Who gave Rhodes' princess to the Cyprian prince, But Love? Fortune. Fortune, that first by chance brought them together; For, till by Fortune persons meet each other, Thou canst not teach their eyes to wound their hearts. Love. I made those knights, of several sect[s] and countries, Each one by arms to honour his beloved. Fortune. Nay, one alone to honour his beloved: The rest, by turning of my tickle wheel, Came short in reaching of fair honour's mark: I gave Erastus only that day's prize, A sweet renown, but mix'd with bitter sorrow; I made him lose the precious carcanet, Whereon depended all his hope and joy. Death. And more than so; for he, that found the chain, Even for that chain shall be depriv'd of life. Love. Besides, Love hath enforc'd a fool— The fond braggado—to presume to arms. Fortune. Ay, but thou see'st, how he was overthrown By Fortune's high displeasure. Death. Ay, and by Death had been surpris'd, If fates had giv'n me leave; But what I miss'd in him and in the rest, I did accomplish on Haleb and Amurath, The worthy brethren of great Soliman: But wherefore stay we? let the sequel prove, Who is the greatest: Fortune, Death, or Love. [Exeunt. FOOTNOTES: |
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