Aphra Behn

“ Qu. Ah, Cleomena! you value my Repose at too cheap a Rate, When you expose a Life so dear to me To so much Danger, as to fight Thersander.
Cleo. I am not the first Person of my Sex
Has drawn a Sword upon an Enemy;
Do you not say he is my Father’s Murderer?
And does he not deprive me of that Crown,
You say the Gods have destin’d me to wear?
Qu. ‘Tis true, he’s Son to him that kill’d thy Father; But bating that, he has committed nothing But what wou’d rather cause esteem than hate.
Cleo. Pardon me, Madam, if I am forc’d to say, My Sentiments cannot correspond with yours. ”

“ Cor. Deceiver, Sir, of whom? in what despairing minute did I swear to be a constant Mistress? to what dull whining Lover did I vow, and had the heart to break it?
Gal. Or if thou hadst, I know of no such Dog as wou’d believe thee:
No, thou art false to thy own Charms, and hast betray’d them
To the possession of the vilest Wretch
That ever Fortune curst with Happiness;
False to thy Joys, false to thy Wit and Youth:
All which thou’st damn’d with so much careful Industry
To an eternal Fool,
That all the Arts of Love can ne’er redeem thee. ”

“ Enter Orsames, Geron.
Ger. May I not know what ‘tis afflicts you so? You were not wont to hide your Soul from me.
Ors. Nor wou’d I now, knew I but how to tell thee;
Oh, Geron, thou hast hitherto so frighted me
With thoughts of Death, by Stories which thou tell’st
Of future Punishment i’th’ other World,
That now I find thou’st brought me to endure
Those Ills from Heaven thou say’st our Sins procure.
There’s not a little God of all the Number
That does not exercise his Arts on me,
And practise Power, which by my suffering
He grows more mighty in—I’ll not endure it. ”

“ You, Sir! why, who the Devil made you a Cavalier? most Potentissima Signiora, I am the man of Title, by name Sir Signal Buffoon, sole Son and Heir to Eight Thousand Pound a year.—
Tick. Oh, Sir, are you the Man she looks for?
Sir Sig. I, Sir? no, Sir: I’d have ye know, Sir, I scorn any Woman, be she never so fair, unless her design be honest and honourable.
Cor. The Man of all the World I’ve chosen out, from all the Wits and Beauties I have seen,—to have most finely beaten. ”

“ Dres. Prithee, dear Wilding, moderate thy Passion.
Wild. By Heaven, I will; she shall not have the Pleasure to see I am concern’d—Morrow, Widow; you are early up, you mean to thrive, I see, you’re like a Mill that grinds with every Wind.
Sir Char. Hah, Wilding, this that past last Night at Sir Timothy’s for a Man of Quality? Oh, give him way, Wilding’s my Friend, my Dear, and now I’m sure I have the Advantage of him in my Love. I can forgive a hasty Word or two.
Wild. I thank thee, Charles—what, you are married then? ”

“ What will become of Abdelazer now, Who with his Power has thrown away his Liberty?
Leon. Your Liberty! Oh, Heaven forbid that you,
Who can so generously give Liberty,
Should be depriv’d of it!
It must not be whilst Leonora lives.
Abd. ‘Tis she that takes it from me.
Leon. I! Alas, I wou’d not for the World Give you one minute’s Pain.
Abd. You cannot help it, ‘tis against your Will; Your Eyes insensibly do wound and kill.
Leon. What can you mean? and yet I fear to know.
Abd. Most charming of your Sex! ”

“ Enter Julio.
Jul. What mean these Lights in every Room, as if to make The day without the Sun, and quite destroy my Hopes!— Hah, Galliard here!
Cor. A Man! grant it some Lover, or some Husband, Heaven, Or any thing that will but spoil the Sport. The Lady! Oh, blast her, how fair she is!
Enter Laura with her Lute, drest in a careless rich Dress, followed by Sabina, to whom she gives her Lute, and Silvio.
Jul. Hah! ‘tis the same Woman. ”

“ A Dog, a Rogue, to leave her!
Sir Char. Why, look ye, Uncle, what wou’d you have a Man do? I brought her to her Coach—
Sir Anth. To her Coach! to her Coach! Did not I put her into your Hand, follow’d you out, wink’d, smil’d and nodded; cry’d ‘bye Charles, ‘bye Rogue; which was as much as to say, Go home with her, Charles, home to her Chamber, Charles; nay, as much as to say, Home to her Bed, Charles; nay, as much as to say—Hum, hum, a Rogue, a Dog, and yet to be modest too! That I shou’d bring thee up with no more Fear of God before thy Eyes! ”

“ In that unsteady treacherous Woman’s Heart of yours.
L. Gal. Believe it if you will. Yes, let me be false, unjust, ungrateful, any thing but a—Whore—
Wild. Oh, Sex on purpose form’d to plague Mankind!
All that you are, and all you do’s a Lye.
False are your Faces, false your floating Hearts;
False are your Quarrels, false your Reconcilements:
Enemies without Reason, and dear without Kindness;
Your Friendship’s false, but much more false your Love;
Your damn’d deceitful Love is all o’er false.
L. Gal. False rather are the Joys you are so fond of. ”

“ All these and a thousand marks you give of daily growing Greatness; every day produces to those like me, curious to learn the story of your Life and Actions, something that even adds a Lustre to your great Name, which one wou’d think you’d be made no more splendid: some new Goodness, some new act of Loyalty or Courage, comes out to cheer the World and those that admire you. Nor wou’d I be the last of those that dayly congratulate and celebrate your rising Glory; nor durst I any other way approach you with it, but this humble one, which carries some Excuse along with it. ”

“ Sir Timothy, why, what a Pox dost thou bring that damn’d
Puritanical, Schismatical, Fanatical, Small-beer-Face of thine into good
Company? Give him a full Glass to the Widow’s Health.
Sir Tim. O lack, Sir Charles, no Healths for me, I pray.
Sir Char. Hark ye, leave that cozening, canting, sanctify’d Sneer of yours, and drink ye me like a sober loyal Magistrate, all those Healths you are behind, from his sacred Majesty, whom God long preserve, with the rest of the Royal Family, even down to this wicked Widow, whom Heaven soon convert from her leud designs upon my Body. ”

“ Prithee lend me one Hand—to wipe my Eyes,
And see who ‘tis dares authorize this Warrant:
—The Devil and his Dam!—the Moor and Queen!
Their Warrant!—Gods! Alonzo, must we obey it?
Villains, you cannot be my Jailors; there’s no Prison,
No Dungeon deep enough; no Gate so strong,
To keep a Man confin’d—so mad with Wrong.
—Oh, dost thou weep, Alonzo?
Alon. I wou’d fain shed a Tear,
But from my Tears so many Show’rs are gone,
They are too poor to pay your Sorrow’s Tribute;
There is no Remedy, we must to Prison. ”

“ Wild. Sir Timothy safe! nay, then I do forgive ‘em.
Sir Tim. Alas, my Lord, I’ve heard of your rigid Fate.
Wild. It is my Custom, Sir, to pray an Hour or two in my Chamber, before I go to Bed; and having pray’d that drousy Slave asleep, the Thieves broke in upon us unawares, I having laid my Sword aside.
Sir Tim. Oh, Heavens, at his Prayers! damn’d Ruffians, and wou’d they not stay till you had said your Prayers?
Wild. By no Persuasion—Can you not guess who they shou’d be, Sir?
Sir Tim. Oh, some damn’d Tory-rory Rogues, you may be sure, to rob a
Man at his Prayers! ”

“ Then undermine his Soul—you know the way on’t.
And sooth him into a Belief, that the best way
To gain your Heart, is to leave Philip’s Interest;
Urge ‘tis the Kingdom’s safety, and your own;
And use your fiercest Threats, to draw him to a Peace with me;
Not that you love me, but for the Kingdom’s good:
Then in a Tent which I will pitch on purpose,
Get him to meet me: He being drawn off,
Thousands of Bigots (who think to cheat the World
Into an Opinion, that fighting for the Cardinal is
A pious Work) will (when he leaves the Camp)
Desert it too. ”

“ We must dissemble yet, which is an Art Too foul for Souls so innocent as thine. Enter Abdelazer. The Moor! Hell! will he not allow us sorrowing time?
Abd. Madam, I come to pay my humblest Duty, And know what Service you command your Slave.
Leon. Alas, I’ve no Commands; or if I had, I am too wretched now to be obey’d.
Abd. Can one so fair, and great, ask any thing Of Men, or Heaven, they wou’d not grant with Joy?
Leon. Hea’vns Will I’m not permitted to dispute, And may implore in vain; but ‘tis in you To grant me what may yet preserve my Life.
Abd. In me! in me! the humblest of your Creatures! ”

“ A Fool! what Indiscretion have you seen in me, shou’d make ye think I would choose a Witty man for a Lover, who perhaps loves out his Month in pure good Husbandry, and in that time does more Mischief than a hundred Fools. You conquer without Resistance, you treat without Pity, and triumph without Mercy: and when you are gone, the World crys—she had not Wit enough to keep him, when indeed you are not Fool enough to be kept! Thus we forfeit both our Liberties and Discretion with you villanous witty Men: for Wisdom is but good Success in things, and those that fail are Fools. ”

“ Poor Heart, it goes to the very soul of me to be so coy and scornful to her, that it does; but a pox on’t, her over-fondness will discover all.
Tick. Fly, fly, young Man, whilst yet thou hast a spark of Virtue shining in thee, fly the temptations of this young Hypocrite; the Love that she pretends with so much zeal and ardour, is indecent, unwarrantable and unlawful; first indecent, as she is Woman—for thou art Woman—and beautiful Woman—yes, very beautiful Woman; on whom Nature hath shew’d her height of Excellence in the out-work, but left thee unfinisht, imperfect and impure. ”

“ Curse on your necessary Trash!—which I despise, But as ‘tis useful to advance our Love.
Fil. Is Love thy business? who is there born so high,
But Love and Beauty equals?
And thou mayst chuse from all the wishing World.
This Wealth together wou’d inrich one Man,
Which dealt to all, wou’d scarce be Charity.
Mar. Together! ‘tis a Mass wou’d ransom Kings: Was all this Beauty given for one poor petty Conquest? —I might have made a hundred Hearts my slaves, In this lost time of bringing one to Reason.— Farewel, thou dull Philosopher in Love; When Age has made me wise, I’ll send for you again. ”

“ Wild. Oh, this is of Quality to be conceal’d; but the dearest loveliest Hypocrite, white as Lillies, smooth as Rushes, and plump as Grapes after a Shower, haughty her Mein, her Eyes full of Disdain, and yet bewitching sweet; but when she loves soft, witty, wanton, all that charms a Soul, and but for now and then a fit of Honour, Oh, damn the Nonsense! wou’d be all my own.
Sir Char. ‘Tis she, by Heaven! [Aside.] Methinks this Widow shou’d prove a good Income to you, as things now stand between you and your Uncle. ”

“ Hon. Now, great Orsames, ‘tis but just and fit
That you receive the Rites of Coronation,
Which are not to be paid you in a Camp;
The Court will add more to that joyful Day.
King. And there we’ll join our Souls as well as Swords, Our Interests as our Families.
Ors. I am content that thou should’st give me Laws:
Come, my Vallentio, it shall ne’er be said
I recompense thy Services
With any thing less grateful than a Woman:
—Here, I will chuse for thee—
And when I know what ‘tis I more can do,
If there be ought beyond this Gift, ‘tis thine. ”

“ Laura Lucretia overhears and sends her maid to bring her Galliard; but whilst he is with her, Cornelia, who has jealously followed, feigning to be Julio’s page, gives the amorous dame a letter as from her betrothed. The trick fails, Cornelia is laughed at as a saucy lad, repulsed and obliged to retire. Sir Harry is then met by Marcella dressed as a man and calling herself Julio. Julio himself happens to be at the Piazza di Spagna and he interrupts the quarrel. Octavio and Morosini speedily join him, as Crapine has tracked the runaways to their lodging. ”

“ Ura. ‘Tis not Amintas—yet I should not fear,
He looks above the common rate of Men.
—Sir, can you direct my way
To find a Prisoner out they call Amintas!
Ors.—Oh Gods! it speaks, and smiles, and acts like me;
It is a Man, a wondrous lovely Man!
Whom Nature made to please me.
—Fair thing, pray speak again:
Thy Voice has Musick in’t that does exceed
All Geron’s Lutes, pray bless my Ears again.
Ura. Sir, as you’re Noble, as you are a Gentleman, Instruct me where to find my Lord Amintas.
Ors. Bright Creature! sure thou wert born i’th’ upper World,
Thy Language is not what we practise here ”

“ Holds up a Dagger. By those we love, we soonest are betray’d.
King. How! can that fair Hand acquaint it self with Death? —What wilt thou do, Florella?
Flor. Your Destiny divert, And give my Heart those Wounds design’d for yours. —If you advance, I’ll give the deadly Blow.
King. Hold!—I command thee hold thy impious Hand, My Heart dwells there, and if you strike—I die.
Enter Queen, Alonzo, and Elvira.
Qu. Florella! arm’d against the King? ”

“ They all talk aside, Cornelia comes up to Galliard.
Cor. Why, how now, Cavalier, how like a discarded Favourite do you look now, who whilst your Authority lasted, laid about ye, domineer’d, huft and bluster’d, as if there had been no end on’t: now a Man may approach ye without terror—You see the Meat’s snatcht out of your Mouth, Sir, the Lady’s dispos’d on; whose Friends and Relations you were so well acquainted with.
Gal. Peace, Boy, I shall be angry else.—
Cor. Have you never a cast Mistress, that will take compassion on you: Faith, what think ye of the little Curtezan now? ”