Part 2 / Act 1 — SCENE III.

Street before the Duchess’s House.

Enter on a balcony^[877] Duchess and Celia.

Duch. What a contented rest rewards my mind

For faithfulness! I give it constancy,

And it returns me peace. How happily

Might woman live, methinks, confin’d within

The knowledge of one husband!

What comes of more rather proclaims desire

567Prince of affections than religious love,

Brings frailty and our weakness into question

'Mongst our male enemies, makes widows’ tears

Rather the cup of laughter than of pity:

What credit can our sorrows have with men,

When in some months’ space they turn light agen,^[878]

Feast, dance, and go in colours? If my vow

Were yet to make, I would not sleep without it,

Or make a faith as perfect to myself

In resolution, as a vow would come to,

And do as much right so to constancy

As strictness could require; for ’tis our goodness

And not our strength that does it. I am arm’d now

'Gainst all deserts in man, be’t valour, wisdom,

Courtesy, comeliness, nay, truth itself,

Which seldom keeps him company. I commend

The virtues highly, as I do an instrument

When the case hangs by th’ wall; but man himself

Never comes near my heart.

Enter Cardinal above.

Car. The blessing of perfection to your thoughts, lady!

For I’m resolv’d^[879] they’re good ones.

Duch. Honour of greatness,

Friend to my vow, and father to my fame,

Welcome as peace to temples!

Car. I bring war.

Duch. How, sir?

Car. A harder fight: if now you conquer,

You crown my praises double.

Duch. What’s your aim, sir?

Car. T’ astonish sin and all her tempting evils,

And make your goodness shine more glorious.

568When your fair noble vow shew’d you the way

To excellence in virtue, to keep back

The fears that might discourage you at first,

Pitying your strength, it shew’d you not the worst:

’Tis not enough for tapers to burn bright,

But to be seen, so to lend others light,

Yet not impair themselves, their flame as pure

As when it shin’d in secret; so, t’ abide

Temptations is the soul’s flame truly tried.

I’ve an ambition, but a virtuous one;

I’d have nothing want to your perfection.

Duch. Is there a doubt found yet? is it so hard

For woman to recover, with all diligence,

And a true fasting faith from sensual pleasure,

What many of her sex have^[880] so long lost?

Can you believe that any sight of man,

Held he the worth of millions in one spirit,

Had power to alter me?

Car. No; there’s my hope,

My credit, and my triumph.

Duch. I’ll no more

Keep strictly private, since the glory on’t

Is but a virtue question’d; I’ll come forth

And shew myself to all; the world shall witness,

That, like the sun, my constancy can look

On earth’s corruptions, and shine clear itself.

Car. Hold conquest now, and I have all my wishes.

[Cornets, and a shout within.

Duch. The meaning of that sudden shout, my lord?

Car. Signor Andrugio, general of the field,

Successful in his fortunes, is arriv’d,

And met by all the gallant hopes of Milan,

Welcom’d with laurel-wreaths and hymns of praises:

569Vouchsafe but you to give him the first grace, madam,

Of your so long-hid presence, he has then

All honours that can bless victorious man.

Duch. You shall prevail, grave sir.

[Exit Cardinal above.

Enter Andrugio, attended by the nobility, senators, and masquers.

Song.

Laurel is a victor’s due,

I give it you,

I give it you;

Thy name with praise,

Thy brow with bays

We circle round:

All men rejoice

With cheerful voice,

To see thee like a conqueror crown’d.

[A Cupid descending, sings:

I am a little conqueror too;

For wreaths of bays

There’s arms of cross,^[881]

And that’s my due:

I give the flaming heart,

It is my crest;

And by the mother’s side,

The weeping eye,

The sighing breast.

It is not power in you, fair beauties;

If I command love, ’tis your duties. [Ascends.

[During the preceding songs Andrugio peruses a letter delivered to him by a Lord: the masque then closes with the following

570Song.

Welcome, welcome, son of fame,

Honour triumphs in thy name! [Exeunt all except Lord.

Lord. Alas, poor gentleman! I brought him news

That like a cloud spread over all his glories:

When he miss’d her whom his eye greedily sought for,

His welcome seem’d so poor, he took no joy in’t;

But when he found her by her father forc’d

To the old governor’s love, and kept so strictly,

A coldness strook his heart. There is no state

So firmly happy but feels envy’s might.

I know Lactantio, nephew to the cardinal,

Hates him as deeply as a rich man death;

And yet his welcome shew’d as fair and friendly

As his that wore the truest love to him;

When in his wishes he could drink his blood,

And make his heart the sweetness of his food. [Exit.

Celia. Madam! madam!

Duch. Beshrew thy heart, dost thou not see me busy?

You shew your manners!

Celia. In the name of goodness,

What ails my lady?

Duch. I confess I’m mortal;

There’s no defending on’t; ’tis cruel flattery

To make a lady believe otherwise.

Is not this flesh? can you drive heat from fire?

So may you love from this; for love and death

Are brothers in this kingdom, only death

Comes by the mother’s side, and that’s the surest.

That general is wondrous fortunate,

Has won another field since, and a victory

571That credits all the rest; he may more boast on’t

Than of a thousand conquests. I am lost,

Utterly lost! where are my women now?

Alas, what help’s in them, what strength have they?

I call to a weak guard when I call them;

In rescuing me they’d be themselves o’ercome:

When I, that profess’d war, am overthrown,

What hope’s in them, then, that ne’er stirr’d from home?

My faith is gone for ever;

My reputation with the cardinal,

My fame, my praise, my liberty, my peace,

Chang’d for a restless passion: O hard spite,

To lose my seven years’ victory at one sight!

[Exeunt.