Mont. You shall then
Pet. I'll do it, as I am a Virgin :
Lie it within mortality, I'll do it.
Mont. You shall-
Pet. I will: that which appears in you
So terrible to speak, I'll joy to act;
And take pride in performance.
Mont. Then you shall-
Pet. What, soldier, what?
Mont. love noble Valladaura;
And at his soonest appointment marry him. Pet. Then I am lost.
There lived a Spanish Princess of our name,
An Isabella too, and not long since,
Who from her palace windows stedfastly
Gazing upon the Sun, her hair took fire.
Some augurs held it as a prodigy:
I rather think she was Latona's brood,
And that Apollo courted her bright hair;
Else, envying that her tresses put down his,
He scorcht them off in envy: nor dare I
(From her deriv'd) expose me to his beams;
Lest, as he burns the Phoenix in her nest,
Made of the sweetest aromatic wood,
Either in love, or envy, he agree
To use the like combustion upon me.
A proud Spanish Princess relates this.
THE ROYAL KING AND THE LOYAL SUBJECT.
Noble Traitor.
A Persian History
I read of late, how the great Sophy once
Flying a noble Falcon at the Herne,
In comes by chance an Eagle sousing by:
Which when the Hawk espies, leaves her first game,
And boldly ventures on the King of Birds;
Long tugg'd they in the air, till at the length
The Falcon (better breath'd) seiz'd on the Eagle,
And struck it dead. The Barons prais'd the Bird,
And for her courage she was peerless held.
The Emperor, after some deliberate thoughts,
Made her no less; he caus'd a crown of gold
To be new fram'd, and fitted to her head,
In honour of her courage: then the Bird,
With great applause, was to the market place
In triumph borne; where, when her utmost worth
Had been proclaim'd, the common executioner
First by the King's command took off her crown,
And after with a sword struck off her head,
As one no beter than a noble Traitor
Unto the King of Birds.
A WOMAN KILL'D WITH KINDNESS: A TRAGEDY. BY THOMAS HEYWOOD.
Mr. Frankford discovers that his Wife has been unfaithful to
Mrs. Fra. O by what words, what title, or what name Shall I entreat your pardon? Pardon! oh!
I am as far from hoping such sweet grace,
As Lucifer from heaven. To call you husband!
(0 me most wretched!) I have lost that name,
I am no more your wife.
Fran. Spare thou thy tears, for I will weep for thee,
And keep thy countenance, for I'll blush for thee.
Now, I protest, I think, 'tis I am tainted,
For I am most asham'd; and 'tis more hard
For me to look upon thy guilty face,
Than on the sun's clear brow: what wouldst thou speak?
Mrs. Fra. I would I had no tongue, no ears, no eyes,
No apprehension, no capacity.
When do you spurn me like a dog? when tread me
Under feet? when drag me by the hair?
Tho' I deserve a thousand thousand fold
More than you can inflict: yet, once my husband,
For womanhood, to which I am a shame,
Though once an ornament; even for his sake
That hath redeem'd our souls, mark not my face,
Nor hack me with your sword: but let me go
Perfect and undeformed to my tomb.
I am not worthy that I should prevail
In the least suit; no, not to speak to you,
Nor look on you, nor to be in your presence:
Yet as an abject this one suit I crave,
This granted, I am ready for my grave.
Fran. My God, with patience arm me! rise, nay rise, Was it for want
And I'll debate with thee.
Thou plaid'st the strumpet? Was't thou not supply'd
With every pleasure, fashion, and new toy;
Nay even beyond my calling?
Fran. Was it then disability in me?
Or in thine eye seem'd he a properer man?
Mrs. Fra. O no.
Fran. Did not I lodge thee in my bosom?
Wear thee in my heart?
Fran. I did indeed, witness my tears I did.
Go bring my infants hither. O Nan, O Nan;
If neither fear of shame, regard of honour,
The blemish of my house, nor my dear love,
Could have with-held thee from so leud a fact,
Yet for these infants, these young harmless souls,
On whose white brows thy shame is character'd,
And grows in greatness as they wax in years;
Look but on them, and melt away in tears.
Away with them; lest as her spotted body
Hath stain'd their names with stripe of bastardy,
So her adulterous breath may blast their spirits
With her infectious thoughts. Away with them.
Mrs. Fra. In this one life I die ten thousand deaths. Fran. Stand up, stand up, I will do nothing rashly. I will retire awhile into my study,
And thou shalt hear thy sentence presently.
He returns with CRANWELL his friend. She falls on
Fran. My words are register'd in heaven already.
With patience hear me. I'll not martyr thee,
Nor mark thee for a strumpet; but with usage
Of more humility torment thy soul,
And kill thee even with kindness.
Cran. Mr. Frankford.
Fran. Good mr. Cranwel.-Woman, hear thy judgment;
Go make thee ready in thy best attire ;
Take with thee all thy gowns, all thy apparel:
Leave nothing that did ever call thee mistress,
Or by whose sight, being left here in the house,
may remember such a woman was.
Chuse thee a bed and hangings for thy chamber;
Take with thee every thing which hath thy mark,
And get thee to my manor seven miles off;
Where live; 'tis thine, I freely give it thee,
My tenants by shall furnish thee with wains
carry all thy stuff within two hours;
No longer will I limit thee my sight.
Chuse which of all my servants thou lik'st best,
And they are thine to attend thee.
Mrs. Fra. A mild sentence.
Fran. But as thou hop'st for heaven, as thou believ'st
Thy name's recorded in the book of life,
I charge thee never after this sad day
To see me or to meet me; or to send
By word, or writing, gift, or otherwise,
To move me, by thyself, or by thy friends;
Nor challenge any part in my two children.
So farewell, Nan; for we will henceforth be
As we had never seen, ne'er more shall see.
Mrs. Fra. How full my heart is, in mine eyes appears: What wants in words, I will supply in tears.
Fran. Come, take your coach, your stuff; all must
Servants and all make ready, all be gone.
It was thy hand cut two hearts out of one.
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