Act 3 — [Scene V.][4194]

Cal. Whoe’er would speak with us, deny his entrance; Be careful of our charge. Chris. We shall, madam. Cal. Except the king himself, give none admittance; Not any. Phil. Madam, it shall be our care. Exeunt [Christalla and Philema]. Cal. Being alone, Penthea, you have granted The opportunity you sought, and might6 At all times have commanded. Pen. ’Tis a benefit Which I shall owe your goodness even in death for. My glass of life, sweet princess, hath few minutes Remaining to run down; the sands are spent; For by an inward messenger I feel11 The summons of departure short and certain. Cal. You feel too much your melancholy. Pen. Glories Of human greatness are but pleasing dreams And shadows soon decaying: on the stage15 Of my mortality my youth hath acted Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length By varied pleasures, sweet’ned in the mixture, But tragical in issue: beauty, pomp, With every sensuality our giddiness20 Doth frame an idol, are unconstant friends, When any troubled passion makes assault On the unguarded castle of the mind. Cal. Contemn not your condition for the proof Of bare opinion only: to what end25 Reach all these moral texts? Pen. To place before ye A perfect mirror, wherein you may see How weary I am of a ling’ring life, Who count the beat a misery. Cal. Indeed You have no little cause; yet none so great30 As to distrust a remedy. Pen. That remedy Must be a winding-sheet, a fold of lead, And some untrod-on corner in the earth.— Not to detain your expectation, princess, I have an humble suit. Cal. Speak; I enjoy[4195] it.35 Pen. Vouchsafe, then, to be my executrix, And take that trouble on ye to dispose Such legacies as I bequeath, impartially. I have not much to give, the pains are easy; Heaven will reward your piety, and thank it40 When I am dead; for sure I must not live; I hope I cannot. Cal. Now, beshrew thy sadness, Thou turn’st me too much woman. [Weeps.] Pen. [Aside.] Her fair eyes Melt into passion.—Then I have assurance Encouraging my boldness. In this paper45 My will was character’d; which you, with pardon, Shall now know from mine own mouth. Cal. Talk on, prithee; It is a pretty earnest. Pen. I have left me But three poor jewels to bequeath. The first is My youth; for though I am much old in griefs, In years I am a child. Cal. To whom that [jewel]?51 Pen. To virgin-wives, such as abuse not wedlock By freedom of desires, but covet chiefly The pledges of chaste beds for ties of love,54 Rather than ranging of their blood; and next To married maids, such as prefer the number Of honourable issue in their virtues Before the flattery of delights by marriage: May those be ever young! Cal. A second jewel You mean to part with? Pen. ’Tis my fame, I trust60 By scandal yet untouch’d: this I bequeath To Memory, and Time’s old daughter, Truth. If ever my unhappy name find mention When I am fall’n to dust, may it deserve Beseeming charity without dishonour!65 Cal. How handsomely thou play’st with harmless sport Of mere imagination! Speak the last. I strangely like thy will. Pen. This jewel, madam, Is dearly precious to me; you must use The best of your discretion to employ70 This gift as I intend it. Cal. Do not doubt me. Pen. ’Tis long agone since first I lost my heart: Long I have liv’d without it, else for certain I should have given that too; but instead Of it, to great Calantha, Sparta’s heir,75 By service bound and by affection vow’d, I do bequeath, in holiest rites of love, Mine only brother, Ithocles. Cal. What saidst thou? Pen. Impute not, heaven-blest lady, to ambition A faith as humbly perfect as the prayers80 Of a devoted suppliant can endow it. Look on him, princess, with an eye of pity; How like the ghost of what he late appear’d ’A moves before you. Cal. Shall I answer here, Or lend my ear too grossly? Pen. First his heart85 Shall fall in cinders, scorch’d by your disdain, Ere he will dare, poor man, to ope an eye On these divine looks, but with low-bent thoughts Accusing such presumption; as for words, ’A dares not utter any but of service:90 Yet this lost creature loves ye.—Be a princess In sweetness as in blood; give him his doom, Or raise him up to comfort. Cal. What new change Appears in my behaviour, that thou dar’st Tempt my displeasure? Pen. I must leave the world95 To revel in Elysium, and ’tis just To wish my brother some advantage here; Yet, by my best hopes, Ithocles is ignorant Of this pursuit. But if you please to kill him, Lend him one angry look or one harsh word,100 And you shall soon conclude how strong a power Your absolute authority holds over His life and end. Cal. You have forgot, Penthea, How still I have a father. Pen. But remember I am a sister, though to me this brother105 Hath been, you know, unkind, O, most unkind! Cal. Christalla, Philema, where are ye?—Lady, Your check lies in my silence.

Chris. and Phil. Madam, here. Cal. I think ye sleep, ye drones: wait on Penthea Unto her lodging.—[Aside.] Ithocles? Wrong’d lady!110 Pen. My reckonings are made even; death or fate Can now nor strike too soon, nor force too late. Exeunt.