  Enter Polymetes, Roscio, Eugenio, and Psectas. Pol. I cannot credit it, nor think that she, Of all the noble youth of Sicily, Should make so strange a choice; that none but he, None but the son of my vow'd enemy, Must be her mate: it strikes me to amaze. Minion, take heed, do not belie your mistress. Psec. Mercy forsake me if I do, my lord: You charg'd me to confess the truth to you, Which I have fully done; and presently I'll bring you where (conceal'd) you shall both see Their privacy, and hear their conference. Pol. Well, I believe thee, wench, and will reward Thy trust And bring me word when Philocles is come, Exit Psectas. Sir, you'll be secret to our purpose? Eug. As your own breast, my lord? Pol. I shall rest thankful to you: This stranger must be sooth'd, lest he mar all. Ros. This was well found out, my lord: you now have means to take your enemy. Pol. Which bless'd occasion I will so pursue, As childless Euphues shall for ever rue. Rise in thy blackest look, direst Nemesis, Assistant to my purpose, help me glut My thirsty soul with blood! This bold young man To his rash love shall sacrifice his life. Ros. What course do you intend to ruin him? Pol. Why, kill him presently. Ros. O no, my lord, You'll rue that action: think not that the law Will let such murder sleep unpunish'd. Pol. Should I then let him go, when I have caught him? Ros. Yes, sir; to catch him faster, and more safely. Pol. How should that be? Speak, man. Ros. Why thus, my lord? You know the law speaks death to any man That steals an heir without her friend's consent: Thus must he do, his love will prompt him to it. For he can never hope by your consent To marry her; and she, 'tis like, will give Consent, for women's love is violent: Then mark their passage, you shall easily find How to surprise them at your will, my lord. Pol. Thou art my oracle, dear Roscio. Enter Psectas. Here's Psectas come again. How now, what news? Psec. My lord, they both are coming; please you withdraw, You shall both hear and see what you desire. Enter Philocles and LeucothoË. Leu. Y' are welcome, noble sir; and, did my power Answer my love, your visitation Should be more free, and your deserved welcome Express'd in better fashion. Phil. Best of ladies, It is so well, so excellently well, Coming from your wish'd love, my barren thanks, Want language for't! there lies in your fair looks More entertainment than in all the pomp That the vain Persian ever taught the world. Your presence is the welcome I expected, That makes it perfect. Leu. 'Tis your noble thought Makes good what's wanting here; but, gentle friend— For so I now dare call you. Pol. 'Tis well, minion; you are bold enough, I see, To choose your friends without my leave. [Aside. Phil. 'Tis my ambition ever to be yours. Leu. Think me not light, dear Philocles, so soon To grant thee love, that others might have sought With eagerest pursuit, and not obtain'd. But I was yours by fate, and long have been: Before you woo'd, LeucothoË was won, And yours without resistance. Phil. O my stars! 'Twas your kind influence that, whilst I slept In dullest ignorance, contriv'd for me The way to crown me with felicity. Pol. You may be deceived, though; you have no such great reason to thank your stars, if you knew all. That time, nor fate, nor death can ever change; A man that but in you can have no being. Let this kiss seal my faith. Leu. And this mine. Pol. Nay, to't again; your sweet meat shall have sour sauce. Phil. But, sweet, 'mongst all these roses there's one thorn That pricks and galls me; our parents' enmity Will cross our loves. I do assure myself Thy father never will give his consent. Leu. No, so I think; he moves me still to Virro, That old craz'd count, and with such vehemency, I dare scarce 'bide his presence, if I deny him; Therefore we must be speedy in our course, And take without his leave what he denies. Pol. I thank you for that, good daughter. [Aside.] Ros. I told you, sir, 'twould come to this at last. [Aside.] Phil. O, thou hast spoke my wishes, and hast show'd Thyself in love as good as beautiful; Then let's away, dearest LeucothoË. My fortunes are not poor, then fear no want. This constant love of ours may prove so happy, To reconcile our parents' enmity. Leu. Heaven grant it may! Pol. Never by this means, youngster. [Aside.] Leu. But soft; now I think better on't, I'll not go. Phil. Why, dearest, is thy love so quickly cold? Leu. No, but I'll not venture thee; thine is the danger. Thou know'st 'tis death by law to steal an heir, Hath lately made me one. What, if thou shouldst be taken? Phil. O, fear not that; had I a thousand lives, They were too small a venture for such prize. I tell thee, sweet, a face not half so fair As thine hath arm'd whole nations in the field, And brought a thousand ships to Tenedos, To sack lamented Troy; and should I fear To venture one poor life, and such a life As would be lost in not possessing thee? Come, come, make that no scruple: when shall we go? Leu. This present evening; for to-morrow morning My father looks that I should give consent To marry with the count. Phil. Best of all, would 'twere this present hour; I'll go prepare: but shall I call thee here? Leu. O no, we'll meet. Phil. Where, dearest? Leu. East from the city, by a river's side, Not distant half a mile, there stands a grove, Where, often riding by, I have observ'd A little hermitage; there will I stay, If I be first; if you, do you the like: Let th' hour be ten; then shall I best escape. Phil. Ne'er sweeter comfort came from angel's lips! I know the place, and will be ready there Before the hour. I'll bring a friend with me As true as mine own heart, one Clerimont, That may do us good if danger happen. Leu. Use your pleasure. Phil. Dearest, farewell; Hours will seem years, till we are met again. [Exeunt. Pol. Ah, sirrah! this gear goes well. God-a-mercy, girl, for thy intelligence! Why, this is as much as a man could desire—the time, place, and everything. I warrant 'em, they pass no further. Well, go thou in and wait upon thy mistress; she's melancholy till she see her sweetheart again; but when she does, she shall not see him long. Not a word of what's passed among us, for your life. Psec. I warrant you, my lord. Pol. I'll not so much as show an angry look or any token that I know of any of their proceedings. But, Roscio, we must lay the place strongly. If they should 'scape us, I were prettily fooled now, after all this. Ros. Why, 'tis impossible, my lord; we'll go strong enough: besides, I think it fit we took an officer along with us, to countenance it the better. Pol. Thou sayest well; go, get one. I'll go myself along with you too; I love to see sport, though I am old. You'll go along with us too, sir? Eug. Ay, sir; you shall command my service when you are ready. Pol. Now, Euphues, what I did but barely act, Thy bleeding heart shall feel, loss of a son, If law can have his course, as who can let it? I know thou think'st mine dead, and in thy heart Laugh'st at my falling house; but let them laugh, That win the prize: things ne'er are known till ended. [Exeunt Polymetes and Roscio.
Eug. Well, I like my sister's choice; she has taken a man whose very looks and carriage speak him worthy: besides, he is noble, his fortune's Enter Virro. Vir. She loves me not yet, but that's no matter. I shall have her; her father says I shall, and I dare take his word. Maids are quickly overruled. Ha, ha! methinks I am grown younger than I was by twenty years. This fortune cast upon me is better than Medea's charm to make an old man young again, to have a lord's estate freely bestowed, and with it such a beauty as would warm Nestor's blood, and make old Priam lusty. Fortune, I see thou lovest me now. I'll build a temple to thee shortly, and adore thee as the greatest deity. Now, what are you? Eug. A poor scholar, my lord; one that am little beholding to fortune. Vir. So are most of your profession. Thou shouldst take some more thriving occupation. Be a judge's man; they are the bravest nowadays, or a cardinal's pander—that were a good profession, and gainful. Eug. But not lawful, my lord. Vir. Lawful! that cardinal may come to be pope, and then he could pardon thee and himself too. Eug. My lord, I was brought up a scholar, and I thank you for your counsel, my lord: I have some for you, and therefore I came. Vir. For me! what, I prythee? Eug. 'Tis weighty, and concerns you near. Vir. Speak, what is't? Eug. My lord, you are to marry old Polymetes's daughter. Vir. And heir. Eug. No heir, my lord; her brother is alive. Vir. How! thou art mad. Eug. My lord, what I speak is true; and to my knowledge his father gives it out in policy to marry his daughter the better; to hook in suitors, and specially aimed at you, thinking you rich and covetous; and now he has caught you. Vir. But dost thou mock me? Eug. Let me be ever miserable if I speak not truth: as sure as I am here, Eugenio lives; I know it, and know where he is. Vir. Where, prythee? Eug. Not a day's journey hence, where his father enjoined him to stay till your match, and sends word to him of this plot: besides, I overheard the old lord and his man Roscio laughing at you for being caught thus. Vir. Why, wert thou at the house then? Eug. Yes, but had scurvy entertainment, which I have thus revenged. Vir. Beshrew my heart, I know not what to think on't. 'Tis like enough: this lord was always cunning beyond measure, and it amazed me that he should grow so extreme kind to me on the sudden, to offer me all this. Besides, this fellow is so confident, and on no ends of cosenage, that I Eug. It stings him. [Aside.] Vir. Well, so, sir, what may I call your name? Eug. Irus, Vir. Your name, as well as your attire, speaks you poor. Eug. I am so. Vir. And very poor. Eug. Very poor. Vir. Would you not gladly take a course to get money, and a great sum of money? Eug. Yes, gladly, if your lordship would but show me the way. Vir. Hark ye. Eug. O, my lord, conscience! Vir. Fie! never talk of conscience; and for law, thou art free; for all men think him dead, and his father will be ashamed to follow it, having already given him for dead; and then, who can know it? Come, be wise, five hundred crowns I'll give. Eug. Well, 'tis poverty that does it, and not I: when shall I be paid? Vir. When thou hast done it. Eug. Well, give me your hand for it, my lord. Vir. Thou shalt. Eug. In writing, to be paid when I have poisoned him; and think it done. Vir. Now thou speak'st like thyself: come in, I'll give it thee. Eug. And this shall stop thy mouth for ever, count. LeucothoË [in male attire] sola. Leu. There is no creature here; I am the first. Methinks this sad and solitary place Should strike a terror to such hearts as mine; But love has made me bold. The time has been, In such a place as this I should have fear'd Each rolling leaf, and trembled at a reed Stirr'd in the moonshine: my fearful fancy Would frame a thousand apparitions, And work some fear out of my very shadow. I wonder Philocles is tardy thus; When last we parted, every hour (he said) Would seem a year till we were met again; It should not seem so by the haste he makes. I'll sit and rest me; come, I know, he will. Enter Philocles and Clerimont. Leu. I know no cause; but I would fain be gone. Phil. Whither, sweet? Leu. Any whither from hence, My thoughts divine of treason, whence I know not. There is no creature knows our meeting here But one, and that's my maid; she has been trusty, And will be still, I hope; but yet I would She did not know it: prythee, let's away; Anywhere else we are secure from danger. Then let's remove, but, prythee, be not sad. What noise is that? [Noise within. Leu. Ah me! Phil. O, fear not, love! Enter Polymetes, Roscio, Eugenio, and Officers. Pol. Upon 'em, officers, yonder they are. Phil. Thieves! villains! Pol. Thou art the thief, and the villain too. Give me my daughter, thou ravisher. Phil. First take my life. Pol. Upon 'em, I say; knock 'em down, officers, if they resist. [Fight. They are taken. Leu. O, they are lost! ah, wicked, wicked Psectas! Pol. So, keep 'em fast; we'll have 'em faster shortly; and for you, minion, I'll tie a clog about your neck for running away any more. Leu. Yet do but hear me, father. Pol. Call me not father, thou disobedient wretch, Thou runaway; thou art no child of mine; My daughter ne'er wore breeches. Leu. O sir, my mother would have done as much For love of you, if need had so requir'd: Think not my mind transformed as my habit. Leu. O, stay and hear me yet; hear but a word, And that my last, it may be: do not spill The life of him in whom my life subsists; Kill not two lives in one! Remember, sir, I was your daughter once, once you did love me: And tell me, then, what fault can be so great To make a father murderer of his child? For so you are in taking of his life. O, think not, sir, that I will stay behind him, No Roman dame shall in her great example Outgo my love. Phil. O, where will sorrow stay! Is there no end in grief, or in my death Not punishment enough for my offence, But must her grief be added to afflict me? Dry up those pearls, dearest LeucothoË, Or thou wilt make me doubly miserable: Preserve that life, that I may after death Live in my better part. Take comfort, dear: People would curse me if such beauty should For me miscarry: no, live happy thou, And let me suffer what the law inflicts. Leu. My offence was as great As thine, and why should not my punishment? Pol. Come, have you done? Officers, away with him. [Exit Philocles. I'll be your keeper, but I'll look better to you. But, Roscio, you and I must about the business: Sir, let it be your charge to watch my daughter, And see she send no message any whither, Nor receive any. [Exeunt Polymetes and Roscio. Eug. It shall, my lord; I'll be an Argus: none shall come here, I warrant you. My very heart bleeds to see two such lovers, so faithful, parted so. I must condemn my father; he's too cruel in this action; and, did not nature forbid it, I could rail at him—to wreak his long-fostered malice against Lord Euphues thus upon his son, the faithful lover of his own daughter, and upon her. For should it come to pass, as he expects it shall, I think it would kill her too, she takes it so. See in what strange amazement now she stands! her grief has spent itself so far, that it has left her senseless. It grieves me thus to see her; I can scarce forbear revealing of myself to her, but that Leu. What are you? Eug. One that my lord your father has appointed To give attendance on you. Leu. On me I alas! I need no attendance: He might bestow his care better for me. Eug. I came but lately to him, nor do I mean Long to stay with him; in the meantime, lady, Might I but do you any service? Leu. All service is too late, my hopes are desperate. Eug. Madam, I have a feeling of your woe, A greater your own brother could not have; And think not that I come suborn'd by any To undermine your secrets: I am true— By all the gods, I am! for further trial, Command me anything, send me on any message, I'll do it faithfully, or anything else That my poor power can compass. Leu. O strange fate! Have I lost pity in a father's heart, And shall I find it in a stranger? Sir, I shall not live to thank you; but my prayers Shall go with you. Eug. 'Tis not for thanks or meed, But for the service that I owe to virtue, I would do this. Leu. Surely this man Is nobly bred, howe'er his habit give him. But, sir, all physic comes to me too late; There is no hope my Philocles should live. Eug. Unless the king were pleas'd to grant his pardon. 'Twere good that he were mov'd. Leu. Ah! who should do it? I fear me, 'tis in vain: Count Virro If I could but get thither. Eug. 'Tis in my power To give you liberty: your father left Me to be your keeper; but in an act So meritorious as this I will not hinder you; Nay, I will wait upon you to the Court. Leu. A thousand thanks to you; well, I will go. Grant, O ye powers above, if [a] virgin's tears— If a true lover's prayers—had ever power To move compassion, grant it now to me! Arm with so strong a vigour my weak words, They may pierce deep into his kingly breast, And force out mercy in spite of all opposers! Eug. Come, let's away. |
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