Knowing my interest in the fair Jolenta, Erc. Compare her beauty and my youth together, And you will find the fair effects of love No miracle at all. Con. Yes, it will prove Prodigious to you: I must stay your voyage. Con. 'Tis a seal From heaven to do it, since you 'd ravish from me I have compassion of both our youths : By practice that had giv'n you now for dead You must fight with me. Erc. I will, Sir. Con. And instantly. Erc. I will haste before you. Point whither. Con. Why, you speak nobly; and, for this fair deal Were the rich jewel (which we vary for) A thing to be divided, by my life, I would be well content to give you half : But since 'tis vain to think we can be friends, Tis needful one of us be tane away From being the other's enemy. Erc. Yet, methinks, This looks not like a quarrel. Con. Not a quarrel! Erc. You have not apparelled your fury well; It goes too plain, like a scholar. Con. It is an ornament, Makes it more terrible; and you shall find it, By discreet valour; because I do not strike you, [ing, Erc. You promise well to yourself. Con. None, for fear of prevention. So whether our time calls us to live or die, And true Italians. Erc. For that, let me embrace you. Con. Methinks, being an Italian, I trust you But your jealousy gave that embrace, to try Erc. No, believe me. I take your heart to be sufficient proof I am arm'd with. Con. You deal equally*. Sitting for a Picture. Must you have my Picture? You will enjoin me to a strange punishment. * I have selected this scene as the model of a well-managed and gentlemanlike difference, There is then a heavenly beauty in 't, the soul Honorable Employment. Oh, my lord, lie not idle : The chiefest action for a man of great spirit Virtue is ever sowing of her seeds: In the trenches for the soldier; in the wakeful study For the scholar; in the furrows of the sea For men of our profession: of all which Arise and spring up honor. Selling of Land. I could wish That noblemen would ever live in the country, Dirge in a Funeral Pageant. Sweetest breath and clearest eye Who seek by trophies and dead things And weave but nets to catch the wind. 181 APPIUS AND VIRGINIA : A TRAGEDY. BY JOHN WEBSTER. APPIUS, the Roman Decemvir, not being able to corrupt the Innocence of VIRGINIA, Daughter to VIRGINIUS the Roman General, and newly married to ICILIUS a young and noble Gentleman; to get possession of her person, suborns one CLODIUS to claim her as the Daughter of a deceased Bondwoman of his, on the testimony of certain forged writings, pretended to be the Deposition of that Woman, on her deathbed, confessing that the Child had been spuriously passed upon VIRGINIUS for his own: the Cause is tried at Rome before APPIUS. APPIUS. VIRGINIA. VIRGINIUS, her Father. ICILIUS, her Husband. Senators of Rome. Nurse, and other Witnesses. Virginius. My Lords, believe not this spruce orator*. Had I but fee'd him first, he would have told As smooth a tale on our side. Appius. Give us leave. Virginius. He deals in formal glosses, cunning shows, And cares not greatly which way the case goes. Examine I beseech you this old woman, Who is the truest witness of her birth. Appius. Soft you, is she your only witness? Appius. Why, is it possible, Such a great Lady in her time of child birth Should have no other witness but a nurse? [Lord. Virginius. For aught I know, the rest are dead, my Appius. Dead? no, my Lord, belike they were of With your deceased Lady, and so shamed Twice to give color to so vile an act. Thou nurse, observe me, thy offence already Pull not more whips upon thee. Nurse. I defy your whips, my Lord. * Counsel for Clodius. [counsel Appius. Command her silence, Lictors. Virginius. O injustice! you frown away my witness. Is this law, is this uprightness? Appius. Have you view'd the writings? This is a trick to make our slaves our heirs Virginius. Appius, wilt thou hear me? You have slander'd a sweet Lady that now sleeps Observe me ; I would have tane her simple word to gage Appius. That makes thee wretched. Old man, I am sorry for thee; that thy love Think you, my Lord, our laws are writ in snow, Virginius. No, my Lord, We have not such hot livers: mark you that? I'll shew thy letters full of violent lust Appius. My Lords, these are but dilatory shifts. And I'll observe you. Icilius. Do, but do it with justice. Clear thyself first, O Appius, ere thou judge Our imperfections rashly, for we wot When one thief hangs another. |