Название: Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9
Автор: Beaumont Francis
Издательство: Public Domain
isbn:
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And hear their business. Are your Men thus too?
Cro. Mine? No, gentle Madam, mine were not cast
In such base molds; afflictions, tortures,
Are names and natures of delight, to my men;
All sorts of cruelties they meet like pleasures.
I have but two; the one they call Du-pont,
Tibalt Du-pont; the other the Ship-master.
Cla. Have they not lives, and fears?
Cro. Lives they have Madam;
But those lives never linkt to such companions
As fears or doubts.
Cla. Use 'em Nobly;
And where you find fit subjects for your pitties
Let it become ye to be courteous;
My Mother will not alwayes be thus rigorous.
Hip. Mine are Saylors Madam,
But they sleep soundly, and seldom trouble me, unless it be when
They dream sometimes of fights and tempests;
Then they rore and whistle for Cans of Wine,
And down they fling me; and in that rage,
(For they are violent fellows) they play such reaks.
If they have meat, they thank me;
If none, they heartily desire to be hang'd quickly.
And this is all they care.
Cla. Look to 'em diligently; and where your pitties tells ye
They may deserve, give comfort.
All. We will.
Cla. Come hither, be not frighted;
Think not ye steal this liberty, for we give it,
Your tender innocence assures me, Virgin,
Ye had no share in those wrongs these men did us;
I find ye are not hardned in such mischiefs.
Your brother was mis-led sure,
Foully mis-led.
Amin. How much I fear these pities!
Cla. Certain he was, so much I pity him;
And for your sake, whose eyes plead for him;
Nay, for his own sake.
Amin. Ha!
Cla. For I see about him
Women have subtill eyes, and look narrowly;
Or I am much abus'd: many fair promises;
Nay beyond those, [too] many shadowed virtues.
Amin. I think he is good.
Cla. I assure my self he will be;
And out of that assurance take this comfort,
For I perceive your fear hath much dejected ye.
I love your brother.
Amin. Madam.
Cla. Nay, do not take it for a dreamt of favor,
That comforts in the sleep, and awake vanishes;
Indeed I love him.
Amin. Do ye indeed?
Cla. You doubt still, because ye fear his safety;
Indeed he is the sweetest man I ere saw;
I think the best. Ye may hear without blushes,
And give me thanks, if ye please, for my curtesie.
Amin. Madam, I ever must;
Yet witness Heaven, they are hard pull'd from me.
Believe me, Madam, so many imperfections I could find,
(Forgive me Grace for lying) and such wants,
('Tis to an honest use) such poverties,
Both in his main proportion, and his mind too;
There are a hundred handsomer; (I lie leudly)
Your noble usage, Madam, hath so bound me to ye,
That I must tell ye.
Cla. Come, tell your worst.
Amin. He is no husband for ye.
I think ye mean in that fair way.
Cla. Ye have hit it.
Amin. I am sure ye have hit my heart.
You will find him dangerous, Madam;
As fickle as the flying ayr, proud, jealous,
Soon glutted in your sweets, and soon forgetful;
I could say more, and tell ye I have a brother,
Another brother, that so far excells this,
Both in the ornaments of Man, and making.
Cla. If you were not his sister, I should doubt ye mainly;
Doubt ye for his love, ye deal so cunningly.
Do not abuse me, I have trusted ye with more than life,
With my first love; be careful of me.
Amin. In what use, Madam?
Cla. In this Lady,
Speak to him for me, you have power upon him;
Tell him I love him, tell him I dote on him:
It will become your tongue.
Amin. Become my grave.
O fortune, O cursed fortune!
Cla. Tell him his liberty,
And all those with him; all our wealth and Jewels.
Good sister, for I'll call ye so.
Amin. I shall Lady,
Even die, I hope.
Cla. Here's Meat and Wine, pray take it,
And there he lies; give him what liberty you please;
But still conceal'd. What pleasure you shall please, Sister.
He shall ne'er want again. Nay, see an you'l take it;
Why do you study thus?
Amin. To avoid mischiefs, if they should happen.
Cla. Goe, and be happy for me.
Amin. O blind fortune;
Yet happy thus far, I shall live to see him,
In what strange desolation lives he here now?
Sure this Curtain will reveale.
Alb. Who's that? ha!
Some gentle hand, I hope, to bring me comfort.
Or if it be my death, 'tis sweetly shadowed.
Amin. Have ye forgot me, Sir?
Alb. My Aminta?
Amin. She Sir,
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