A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Xi Part 114

_Enter_ ALBERT, _solus_.

Conscience, thou horror unto wicked men, When wilt thou cease thy all-afflicting wrath,[381]

And set my soul free from the labyrinth Of thy tormenting terror? O, but it fits not!

Should I desire redress, or wish for comfort, That have committed an act so inhumane, Able to fill shame's s.p.a.cious chronicle?

Who but a d.a.m.n'd one could have done like me?

Robb'd my dear friend, in a short moment's time, Of his love's high-priz'd gem of chast.i.ty: That which so many years himself hath stay'd for?

How often hath he, as he lay in bed, Sweetly discours'd to me of his Maria?

And with what pleasing pa.s.sions did he suffer Love's gentle war-siege? Then he would relate, How he first came unto her fair eyes' view; How long it was ere she could brook affection; And then how constant she did still abide.

I then, at this, would joy, as if my breast Had sympathis'd in equal happiness With my true friend: but now, when joy should be, Who but a d.a.m.n'd one would have done like me?

He hath been married now, at least, a month; In all which time I have not once beheld him.

This is his house-- I'll call to know his health, but will not see him, My looks would then betray me; for, should he ask My cause of seeming sadness or the like, I could not but reveal, and so pour'd on Worse unto ill, which breeds confusion. [_He knocks._

_Enter_ SERVINGMAN.

SER. To what intent d'ye knock, sir?

ALB. Because I would be heard, sir: is the master of this house within?

SER. Yes, marry is he, sir: would you speak with him?

ALB. My business is not so troublesome: Is he in health, with his late espoused wife?

SER. Both are exceeding well, sir.

ALB. I'm truly glad on't: farewell, good friend.

SER. I pray you, let's crave your name, sir; I may else have anger.

ALB. You may say one Albert, riding by this way, only inquired their health.

SER. I will acquaint so much. [_Exit_ SERVINGMAN.

ALB. How like a poisonous doctor have I come, To inquire their welfare, knowing that myself Have given the potion[382] of their ne'er recovery; For which I will afflict myself with torture ever.

And, since the earth yields not a remedy Able to salve the sores my l.u.s.t hath made, I'll now take farewell of society And th' abode of men, to entertain a life Fitting my fellows.h.i.+p in desert woods, Where beasts like me consort; there may I live Far off from wronging virtuous Carracus.

There's no Maria that shall satisfy My hateful l.u.s.t: the trees shall shelter This wretched trunk of mine, upon whose barks I will engrave the story of my sin.

And there this short breath of mortality I'll finish up in that repentant state, Where not th' allurements of earth's vanities Can e'er o'ertake me: there's no baits for l.u.s.t, No friend to ruin; I shall then be free From practising the art of treachery: Thither then, steps, where such content abides, Where penitency, not disturb'd, may grieve, Where on each tree and springing plant I'll carve This heavy motto of my misery, _Who but a d.a.m.n'd one could have done like me?_ Carracus, farewell, if e'er thou see'st me more, Shalt find me curing of a soul-sick sore. [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[375] A very popular book, which is still reprinted.

[376] Hector is one of the Seven Worthies. He appears as such in "Love's Labour's Lost." Nothing was once more common than the portraits of these heroes; and therefore they might have found their way occasionally into shops which we know to have been anciently decorated with pictures for the amus.e.m.e.nt of some customers whilst others were served. Of the Seven Worthies, the Ten Sibyls, and the Twelve Caesars, I have seen many complete sets in old halls and on old staircases.--_Steevens._

[377] The 4 reads _Moreover_. The alteration was made by Mr Reed.--_Collier._

[378] A designed play on the word _virginal_, a spinnet.--_Steevens._

[379] Desired or recommended.

[380] This was Samuel Daniel, who was an historian as well as a poet.

The work above alluded to is probably "Hymen's Triumph," a pastoral tragi-comedy, acted at the Queen's Court in the Strand, at the nuptials of Lord Roxburgh.

[381] The 4 has it _all-afflicted wrath_.--_Collier._

[382] The old copy has it _portion_, which is most likely wrong.--_Collier._

ACTUS TERTIUS.

_Enter_ CARRACUS, _driving his man before him_.

CAR. Why, thou base villain! was my dearest Friend here, and couldst not make him stay?

SER. 'Sfoot, sir, I could not force him 'gainst his will: An' he had been a woman----

CAR. Hence, thou untutor'd slave! [_Exit_ SERVANT.

But couldst thou, Albert, come so near my door, And not vouchsafe the comfort of thy presence?

Hath my good fortune caus'd thee to repine?

And, seeing my state so full replete with good, Canst thou withdraw thy love to lessen it?

What could so move thee? was't because I married?

Didst thou imagine I infring'd my faith, For that a woman did partic.i.p.ate In equal share with thee? cannot my friends.h.i.+p Be firm to thee because 'tis dear to her?

Yet no more dear to her than firm to thee.

Believe me, Albert, thou dost little think How much thy absence gives cause of discontent.

But I'll impute it only to neglect: It is neglect indeed when friends neglect The sight of friends, and say 'tis troublesome: Only ask how they do, and so farewell, Showing an outward kind of seeming duty, Which in the rules of manhood is observ'd, And think full well they have perform'd their task, When of their friend's health they do only ask; Not caring how they are, or how distress'd-- It is enough they have their loves express'd In bare inquiry; and, in these times, too, Friends.h.i.+p's so cold, that few so much will do.

And am not I beholden then to Albert?

He, after knowledge of our being well, Said he was truly glad on't: O rare friend!

If he be unkind, how many more may mend?

But whither am I carried by unkindness?

Why should not I as well set light by friends.h.i.+p, Since I have seen a man, whom I late thought Had been compos'd of nothing but of faith, Prove so regardless of his friend's content?

_Enter_ MARIA.

MARIA. Come, Carracus, I have sought you all about: Your servant told me you were much disquieted Prythee, love, be not so; come, [come,] walk in; I'll charm thee with my lute from forth disturbance.

CAR. I am not angry, sweet; though, if I were, Thy bright aspect would soon allay my rage.

But, my Maria, it doth something move me That our friend Albert so forgets himself.

MARIA. It may be, 'tis nothing else; and there's no doubt He'll soon remember his accustom'd friends.h.i.+p.

He thinks as yet, peradventure, that his presence Will but offend, for that our marriage rites Are but so newly pa.s.s'd.

CAR. I will surmise so too, and only think Some serious business hinders Albert's presence.

But what ring's that, Maria, on your finger?