A Select Collection of Old English Plays Volume Vii Part 3

TANCRED. But reason saith thou shouldst the same subdue.

GISMUNDA. His funerals are yet before my sight.

TANCRED. In endless moans princes should not delight.

GISMUNDA. The turtle pines in loss of her true mate.

TANCRED. And so continues poor and desolate.

GISMUNDA. Who can forget a jewel of such price?

TANCRED. She that hath learn'd to master her desires.

"Let reason work, what time doth easily frame In meanest wits, to bear the greatest ills."

GISMUNDA. So plenteous are the springs Of sorrows that increase my pa.s.sions, As neither reason can recure my smart, Nor can your care nor fatherly comfort Appease the stormy combats of my thoughts; Such is the sweet remembrance of his life.

Then give me leave: of pity, pity me, And as I can, I shall allay these griefs.

TANCRED. These solitary walks thou dost frequent, Yield fresh occasions to thy secret moans: We will therefore thou keep us company, Leaving thy maidens with their harmony.

Wend[48] thou with us. Virgins, withdraw yourselves.

[TANCRED _and_ GISMUNDA, _with the guard, depart into the palace; the four maidens stay behind, as Chorus to the Tragedy_.

CHORUS 1. The diverse haps which always work our care, Our joys so far, our woes so near at hand, Have long ere this, and daily do declare The fickle foot on which our state doth stand.

"Who plants his pleasures here to gather root, And hopes his happy life will still endure, Let him behold how death with stealing foot Steps in when he shall think his joys most sure."

No ransom serveth to redeem our days If prowess could preserve, or worthy deeds, He had yet liv'd, whose twelve labours displays His endless fame, and yet his honour spreads.

And that great king,[49] that with so small a power Bereft the mighty Persian of his crown, Doth witness well our life is but a flower, Though it be deck'd with honour and renown.

CHORUS 2. "What grows to-day in favour of the heaven, Nurs'd with the sun and with the showers sweet, Pluck'd with the hand, it withereth ere even.

So pa.s.s our days, even as the rivers fleet."

The valiant Greeks, that unto Troia gave The ten years' siege, left but their names behind.

And he that did so long and only save His father's walls,[50] found there at last his end.

Proud Rome herself, that whilome laid her yoke On the wide world, and vanquish'd all with war, Yet could she not remove the fatal stroke Of death from them that stretch'd her pow'r so far.

CHORUS 3. Look, what the cruel sisters once decree'd, The Thunderer himself cannot remove: They are the ladies of our destiny, To work beneath what is conspir'd above.

But happy he that ends this mortal life By speedy death: who is not forc'd to see The many cares, nor feel the sundry griefs, Which we sustain in woe and misery.

Here fortune rules who, when she list to play, Whirleth her wheel, and brings the high full low: To-morrow takes, what she hath given to-day, To show she can advance and overthrow.

Not Euripus'[51] (unquiet flood) so oft Ebbs in a day, and floweth to and fro, As fortune's change plucks down that was aloft, And mingleth joy with interchange of woe.

CHORUS 4. "Who lives below, and feeleth not the strokes, Which often-times on highest towers do fall, Nor bl.u.s.tering winds, wherewith the strongest oaks Are rent and torn, his life is sur'st of all:"

For he may fortune scorn, that hath no power On him, that is well pleas'd with his estate: He seeketh not her sweets, nor fears her sour, But lives contented in his quiet rate, And marking how these worldly things do vade,[52]

Rejoiceth to himself, and laughs to see The folly of men, that in their wits have made Fortune a G.o.ddess, placed in the sky.

_Exegit_ ROD. STAF.

FINIS ACTUS I.

ACT II, SCENE 1.

GISMUNDA AND LUCRECE.

GISMUNDA. Dear aunt, my sole companion in distress, And true copartner of my thoughtful cares: When with myself I weigh my present state, Comparing it with my forepa.s.sed days, New heaps of cares afresh begin t'a.s.say My pensive heart, as when the glittering rays Of bright Phoebus are suddenly o'erspread With dusky clouds, that dim his golden light: Namely, when I, laid in my widow's bed, Amid the silence of the quiet night, With curious thought the fleeting course observe Of gladsome youth, how soon his flower decays, "How time once past may never have recourse, No more than may the running streams revert To climb the hills, when they been rolled down The hollow vales. There is no curious art, Nor worldly power: no, not the G.o.ds can hold The sway of flying time, nor him return, When he is past: all things unto his might Must bend, and yield unto the iron teeth Of eating time." This in the shady night When I record: how soon my youth withdraws Itself away, how swift my pleasant spring Runs out his race,--this, this, aunt, is the cause, When I advise me sadly[53] on this thing, That makes my heart in pensive dumps dismay'd.

For if I should my springing years neglect, And suffer youth fruitless to fade away; Whereto live I? or whereto was I born?

Wherefore hath nature deck'd me with her grace?

Why have I tasted these delights of love, And felt the sweets of Hymeneus' bed?

But to say sooth, dear aunt, it is not I, Sole and alone, can thus content to spend My cheerful years: my father will not still Prolong my mournings, which have griev'd him, And pleased me too long. Then this I crave, To be resolved of his princely mind.

For, stood it with the pleasure of his will To marry me, my fortune is not such, So hard, that I so long should still persist Makeless alone in woful widowhood.

And shall I tell mine aunt? Come hither then, Give me that hand: By thine own right hand, I charge thy heart my counsels to conceal.

Late have I seen, and seeing took delight, And with delight, I will not say, I love A prince, an earl, a county in the court.

But love and duty force me to refrain, And drive away these fond affections, Submitting them unto my father's hest.

But this, good aunt, this is my chiefest pain, Because I stand at such uncertain stay.

For, if my kingly father would decree His final doom, that I must lead my life Such as I do, I would content me then To frame my fancies to his princely hest, And as I might, endure the grief thereof.

But now his silence doubleth all my doubts, Whilst my suspicious thoughts 'twixt hope and fear Distract me into sundry pa.s.sions: Therefore, good aunt, this labour must be yours, To understand my father's will herein, For well I know your wisdom knows the means, So shall you both allay my stormy thoughts, And bring to quiet my unquiet mind.

LUCRECE. Sufficeth this, good niece, that you have said; For I perceive what sundry pa.s.sions Strive in your breast, which oftentimes ere this Your countenance confused did bewray.

The ground whereof since I perceive to grow On just respect of this your sole estate, And skilful care of fleeting youth's decay, Your wise foresight such sorrowing to eschew I much commend, and promise as I may To break this matter, and impart your mind Unto your father, and to work it so, As both your honour shall not be impeach'd, Nor he unsatisfied of your desire.

Be you no farther grieved, but return Into your chamber. I shall take this charge, And you shall shortly truly understand What I have wrought, and what the king affirms.

GISMUNDA. I leave you to the fortune of my stars.

[GISMUNDA _departeth into her chamber_, LUCRECE _abiding on the stage_.

LUCRECE. The heavens, I hope, will favour your request.

My niece shall not impute the cause to be In my default, her will should want effect: But in the king is all my doubt, lest he My suit for her new marriage should reject.

Yet shall I prove him: and I heard it said, He means this evening in the park to hunt.[54]

Here will I wait attending his approach.

ACT II., SCENE 2.

TANCRED _cometh out of his palace with_ GUISCARD, _the_ COUNTY PALURIN, JULIO, _the Lord Chamberlain_, RENUCHIO, _captain of his guard, all ready to hunt_.

TANCRED. Uncouple all our hounds; lords, to the chase-- Fair sister Lucre[ce], what's the news with you?

LUCRECE. Sir, as I always have employ'd my power And faithful service, such as lay in me, In my best wise to honour you and yours: So now my bounden duty moveth me Your majesty most humbly to entreat With patient ears to understand the state Of my poor niece, your daughter.

TANCRED. What of her?

Is she not well? Enjoys she not her health?

Say, sister: ease me of this jealous fear?

LUCRECE. She lives, my lord, and hath her outward health; But all the danger of her sickness lies In the disquiet of her princely mind.

TANCRED. Resolve me; what afflicts my daughter so?