No More Learning

[_Exit after_ SOPHRONIA.


SCENE II. --_The Street. _

_Enter_ AURELIAN, CAMILLO, LAURA, VIOLETTA; _all in Masking-habits. _

_Cam. _ This generosity of the abbess is never to be forgot; and it is
the more to be esteemed, because it was the less to be expected.

_Vio. _ At length, my Camillo, I see myself safe within your arms; and
yet, methinks, I can never be enough secure of you; for now, I have
nothing else to fear, I am afraid of you; I fear your constancy. They
say possession is so dangerous to lovers, that more of them die of
surfeits than of fasting.

_Lau. _ You'll be rambling too, Aurelian; I do not doubt it, if I would
let you; but I'll take care to be as little a wife, and as much a
mistress to you, as is possible: I'll be sure to be always pleasant,
and never suffer you to be cloyed.

_Aur. _ You are certainly in the right: Pleasantness of humour makes a
wife last in the sweetmeat, when it will no longer in the fruit. But,
pray, let's make haste to the next honest priest that can say grace to
us, and take our appetites while they are coming.

_Cam. _ That way leads to the Austin-Friars; there lives a father of my
acquaintance.

_Lau. _ I have heard of him; he has a mighty stroke at matrimonies, and
mumbles them over as fast, as if he were teaching us to forget them
all the while.

_Enter_ BENITO, _and overhears the last speech. _

_Ben. _ _Cappari_; that is the voice of madam Laura. Now, Benito, is
the time to repair the lost honour of thy wit, and to blot out the
last adventure of the nunnery.

_Vio. _ That way I hear company; let us go about by this other street,
and shun them.

_Ben. _ That voice I know too; 'tis the younger sister's, Violetta's,
Now have these two most treacherously conveyed themselves out of the
nunnery, for my master and Camillo, and given up their persons to
those lewd rascals in masquerade; but I'll prevent them. Help there!
thieves and ravishers! villainous maskers! stop, robbers! stop,
ravishers!

_Cam. _ We are pursued that way, let's take this street.

_Lau. _ Save yourselves, and leave us.

_Cam. _ We'll rather die, than leave you.

_Enter, at several doors, Duke of_ MANTUA _and Guards, and Don_
MARIO _and Servants, with Torches. _

_Aur. _ So, now the way is shut up on both sides. We'll die merrily,
however:--have at the fairest.
[AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO _fall upon the Duke's
Guards, and are seized behind by_ MARIO'S
_Servants. At the drawing of Swords,_ BENITO
_runs off. _

_Duke. _ Are these insolencies usually committed in Rome by night? It
has the fame of a well-governed city; and methinks, Don Mario, it does
somewhat reflect on you to suffer these disorders.

_Mar. _ They are not to be hindered in the Carnival: You see, sir, they
have assumed the privilege of maskers.

_Lau. _ [_To_ AUR. ] If my uncle know us, we are ruined; therefore be
sure you do not speak.

_Duke. _ How then can we be satisfied this was not a device of masking,
rather than a design of ravishing?

_Mar. _ Their accuser is fled, I saw him run at the beginning of the
scuffle; but I'll examine the ladies.

_Vio. _ Now we are lost. [_Duke coming near_ LAURA, _takes notice
of her habit. _

_Duke. _ [_Aside. _] 'Tis the same, 'tis the same; I know Lucretia by
her habit: I'm sure I am not mistaken. --Now, sir, you may cease your
examination, I know the ladies.

_Aur. _ [_To_ CAM. ] How the devil does he know them?

_Cam. _ 'Tis alike to us; they are lost both ways.

_Duke. _ [_Taking_ LAURA _aside. _] Madam, you may confess yourself to
me. Whatever your design was in leaving the nunnery, your reputation
shall be safe. I'll not discover you, provided you grant me the
happiness I last requested.

_Lau. _ I know not, sir, how you could possibly come to know me, or of
my design in quitting the nunnery; but this I know, that my sister and
myself are both unfortunate, except your highness be pleased to
protect us from our uncle; at least, not to discover us.

_Duke. _ His holiness, your uncle, shall never be acquainted with your
flight, on condition you will wholly renounce my son, and give
yourself to me.

_Lau. _ Alas, sir, for whom do you mistake me?

_Duke. _ I mistake you not, madam: I know you for Lucretia. You forget
that your disguise betrays you.

_Lau. _ Then, sir, I perceive I must disabuse you: If you please to
withdraw a little, that I may not be seen by others, I will pull off
my mask, and discover to you, that Lucretia and I have no resemblance,
but only in our misfortunes.

_Duke. _ 'Tis in vain, madam, this dissembling: I protest, if you pull
off your mask, I will hide my face, and not look upon you, to convince
you that I know you.

_Enter_ BENITO.

_Ben. _ So, now the fray is over, a man may appear again with
safety. --Oh, the rogues are caught, I see, and the damsels delivered.
This was the effect of my valour at the second hand.

_Aur. _ Look, look, Camillo! it was my perpetual fool that caused all
this; and now he stands yonder, laughing at his mischief, as the devil
is pictured, grinning behind the witch upon the gallows.

_Ben. _ [_To_ MARIO. ] I see, sir, you have got your women, and I am
glad on't: I took them just flying from the nunnery.

_Duke. _ [_To_ LAU. ] You see that fellow knows you too.

_Mar. _ Were these women flying from a nunnery?

_Ben. _ These women? heyday! then, it seems, you do not know they are
your nieces.

_Duke. _ His nieces, say you? Take heed, fellow, you shall he punished
severely, if you mistake.

_Cam. _ Speak to Benito in time, Aurelian.

_Aur. _ The devil's in him; he's running down-hill full speed, and
there's no stopping him.

_Mar. _ My nieces?

_Ben. _ Your nieces? Why, do you doubt it? I praise heaven I never met
but with two half-wits in my life, and my master's one of them; I will
not name the other at this time.

_Duke. _ I say, they are not they.

_Ben. _ I am sure they are Laura and Violetta; and that those two
rogues were running away with them, and that, I believe, with their
consent.

_Vio. _ Sister, 'tis in vain to deny ourselves; you see our ill fortune
pursues us unavoidably. [_Turning up her mask. _] Yes, sir, we are
Laura and Violetta, whom you have made unhappy by your tyranny.

_Lau. _ [_Turning up her mask. _] And these two gentlemen are no
ravishers, but--

_Ben. _ How, no ravishers? Yes, to my knowledge they are--[_As he
speaks,_ AURELIAN _pulls off his mask. _] No ravishers, as madam Laura
was saying; but two as honest gentlemen as e'er broke bread. My own
dear master, and so forth! [_Runs to_ AUR. _who thrusts him back. _

_Enter_ VALERIO, _and whispers the Duke, giving him a paper; which
he reads, and seems pleased. _

_Mar. _ Aurelian and Camillo! I'll see you in safe custody; and, for
these fugitives, go, carry them to my sister, and desire her to have a
better care of her kinswomen.

_Vio. _ We shall live yet to make you refund our portions. Farewell,
Camillo; comfort yourself; remember there's but a wall betwixt us.

_Lau. _ And I'll cut through that wall with vinegar, but I'll come to
you, Aurelian.

_Aur. _ I'll cut through the grates with aquafortis, but I'll meet you.
Think of these things, and despair, and die, old gentleman.
[AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO _are carried off on
one side, and_ LAURA _and_ VIOLETTA _on
the other. _

_Ben. _ All things go cross to men of sense: Would I had been born with
the brains of a shop-keeper, that I might have thriven without knowing
why I did so. Now, must I follow my master to the prison, and, like an
ignorant customer that comes to buy, must offer him my backside, tell
him I trust to his honesty, and desire him to please himself, and so
be satisfied. [_Exit. _

_Duke. _ [_To_ VAL. ] I am overjoyed; I'll see her immediately: Now my
business with Don Mario is at an end, I need not desire his company to
introduce me to the abbess; this assignation from Lucretia shows me a
nearer way. --Noble Don Mario, it was my business, when this accident
happened in the street, to have made you a visit; but now I am
prevented by an occasion which calls me another way.

_Mar. _ I receive the intention of that honour as the greatest
happiness that could befal me: In the meantime, if my attendance--

_Duke. _ By no means, sir, I must of necessity go in private; and
therefore, if you please, you shall omit the ceremony.

_Mar. _ A happy even to your highness. --Now will I go to my sister, the
abbess, before I sleep, and desire her to take more care of her flock,
or, for all our relation, I shall make complaint, and endeavour to
ease her of her charge. [_Exit. _

_Duke. _ So, now we are alone, what said Lucretia?

_Val. _ When first I pressed her to this assignation,
She spoke like one in doubt what she should do;
She demurred much upon the decency of it,
And somewhat too she seemed to urge, of her
Engagement to the prince: In short, sir,
I perceived her wavering, and closed with the opportunity.

_Duke. _ O, when women are once irresolute, betwixt the former love and
the new one, they are sure to come over to the latter. The wind, their
nearest likeness, seldom chops about to return into the old corner.

_Val. _ In conclusion, she consented to the interview; and for the
rest, I urged it not, for I suppose she will hear reason sooner from
your mouth than mine.

_Duke. _ Her letter is of the same tenor with her discourse, full of
doubts and doubles; like a hunted hare when she is near tired. The
garden, you say, is the place appointed?

_Val. _ It is, sir; and the next half hour the time. But, sir, I fear
the prince your son will never bear the loss of her with patience.

_Duke. _ 'Tis no matter; let the young gallant storm to-night,
to-morrow he departs from Rome.

_Val. _ That, sir, will be severe.

_Duke. _ He has already received my commands to travel into Germany. I
know it stung him to the quick, but he's too dangerous a rival: the
soldiers love him too; when he's absent they will respect me more. But
I defer my happiness too long; dismiss my guards there.
[_Exeunt Guards. _

The pleasures of old age brook no delay;
Seldom they come, and soon they fly away. [_Exeunt. _


SCENE III.

_Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO.

_Fred. _ 'Tis true, he is my father; but when nature
Is dead in him, why should it live in me?
What have I done that I am banished Rome,
The world's delight, and my soul's joy, Lucretia,
And sent to reel with midnight beasts in Almain!
I cannot, will not, bear it.

_Asca. _ I'm sure you need not, sir; the army is all yours; they wish a
youthful monarch, and will resent your injuries.

_Fred. _ Heaven forbid it! and yet I cannot lose Lucretia.
There's something I would do, and yet would shun
The ill, that must attend it.

_Asca. _ You must resolve, for the time presses. She told me, this
hour, she had sent for your father: what she means I know not, for she
seemed doubtful, and would not tell me her intention.

_Fred. _ If she be false--yet, why should I suspect her? Yet why should
I not? She's a woman; that includes ambition and inconstancy; then,
she's tempted high: 'twere unreasonable to expect she should be
faithful: Well, something I have resolved, and will about it
instantly; and if my friends prove faithful, I shall prevent the
worst.

_Enter_ AURELIAN _and_ CAMILLO, _guarded. _

Aurelian and Camillo? How came you thus attended?

_Cam. _ You may guess at the occasion, sir; pursuing the adventure
which brought us to meet you in the garden, we were taken by Don
Mario.

_Aur. _ And, as the devil would have it, when both we and our
mistresses were in expectation of a more pleasing lodging.

_Fred. _ Faith, that's very hard, when a man has charged and primed,
and taken aim, to be hindered of his shoot. --Soldiers, release these
gentlemen, I'll answer it.

_Cap. _ Sir, we dare not disobey our orders.

_Fred. _ I'll stand betwixt you and danger. In the mean time take this,
as an acknowledgment of the kindness you do me.

_Cap. _ Ay, marry, there's rhetoric in gold: who can deny these
arguments: Sir, you may dispose of our prisoners as you please; we'll
use your name, if we are called in question.

_Fred. _ Do so. Goodnight, good soldiers. [_Exeunt soldiers. _] Now,
gentlemen, no thanks; you'll find occasion instantly to reimburse me
of my kindness.

_Cam. _ Nothing but want of liberty could have hindered us from serving
you.

_Fred. _ Meet me within this half hour, at our monastery; and if, in
the mean time, you can pick up a dozen of good fellows, who dare
venture their lives bravely, bring them with you.

_Aur. _ I hope the cause is bad too, otherwise we shall not deserve
your thanks. May it be for demolishing that cursed monastery!

_Fred. _ Come, Ascanio, follow me. [_Exeunt severally. _


SCENE IV. --_The Nunnery Garden. _

_Enter_ DUKE _and_ LUCRETIA.

_Luc. _ In making this appointment,
I go too far, for one of my profession;
But I have a divining soul within me,
Which tells me, trust reposed in noble natures
Obliges them the more.

_Duke. _ I come to be commanded, not to govern:
Those few soft words, you sent me, have quite altered
My rugged nature; if it still be violent,
'Tis only fierce and eager to obey you;
Like some impetuous flood, which, mastered once,
With double force bends backward.
The place of treaty shows you strongest here;
For still the vanquished sues for peace abroad,
While the proud victor makes his terms at home.

_Luc. _ That peace, I see, will not be hard to make,
When either side shows confidence of noble dealing
From the other.

_Duke. _ And this, sure, is our case, since both are met alone.

_Luc. _ 'Tis mine, sir, more than yours.
To meet you single, shows I trust your virtue;
But you appear distrustful of my love.

_Duke. _ You wrong me much; I am not.

_Luc. _ Excuse me, sir, you keep a curb upon me;
You awe me with a letter, which you hold
As hostage of my love; and hostages
Are ne'er required but from suspected faith.

_Duke. _ We are not yet in terms of perfect peace;
Whene'er you please to seal the articles,
Your pledge shall be restored.

_Luc. _ That were the way to keep us still at distance;
For what we fear, we cannot truly love.

_Duke. _ But how can I be then secure, that, when
Your fear is o'er, your love will still continue?

_Luc. _ Make trial of my gratitude; you'll find
I can acknowledge kindness.

_Duke. _ But that were to forego the faster hold,
To take a loose, and weaker.
Would you not judge him mad, who held a lion
In chains of steel, and changed them for a twine?

_Luc. _ But love is soft,
Not of the lion's nature, but the dove's;
An iron chain would hang too heavy on a tender neck.

_Duke. _ Since on one side there must be confidence,
Why may not I expect, as well as you,
To have it plac'd in me? Repose your trust
Upon my royal word.

_Luc. _ As 'tis the privilege of womankind,
That men should court our love,
And make the first advances; so it follows,
That you should first oblige; for 'tis our weakness
Gives us more cause of fear, and therefore you,
Who are the stronger sex, should first secure it.

_Duke. _ But, madam, as you talk of fear from me,
I may as well suspect design from you.

_Luc. _ Design! of giving you my love more freely;
Of making you a title to my heart,
Where you by force would reign.

_Duke. _ O that I could believe you! But your words
Are not enough disorder'd for true love;
They are not plain, and hearty, as are mine;
But full of art, and close insinuation:
You promise all, but give me not one proof
Of love before; not the least earnest of it.

_Luc. _ And what is then this midnight conversation?
These silent hours divided from my sleep?
Nay, more, stolen from my prayers with sacrilege,
And here transferred to you? This guilty hand,
Which should be used in dropping holy beads,
But now bequeathed to yours? This heaving heart,
Which only should be throbbing for my sins,
But which now beats uneven time for you?
These are my arts! and these are my designs!

_Duke. _ I love you more, Lucretia, than my soul;
Nay, than yours too; for I would venture both,
That I might now enjoy you; and if what
You ask me, did not make me fear to lose you,
Though it were even my life, you should not be denied it.

_Luc. _ Then I will ask no more.
Keep still my letter, to upbraid me with it:
To say, when I am sullied with your lust,
And fit to be forsaken,--Go, Lucretia,
To your first love; for this, for this, I leave you.

_Duke. _ Oh, madam, never think that day can come!

_Luc. _ It must, it will; I read it in your looks;
You will betray me, when I'm once engaged.

_Duke. _ If not my faith, your beauty will secure you.

_Luc. _ My beauty is a flower upon the stalk,
Goodly to see; but, gathered for the scent,
And once with eagerness pressed to your nostrils,
The sweets drawn out, 'tis thrown with scorn away.
But I am glad I find you out so soon;
I simply loved, and meant (with shame I own it)
To trust my virgin honour in your hands.
I asked not wealth for hire; and, but by chance,
(I wonder that I thought on't) begged one trial,
And, but for form, to have pretence to yield,
And that you have denied me. Farewell! I could
Have loved you, and yet, perhaps, I--

_Duke. _ O speak, speak out, and do not drown that word;
It seemed as if it would have been a kind one;
And yours are much too precious to be lost.

_Luc. _ Perhaps--I cannot yet leave loving you.
There 'twas. But I recalled it in my mind,
And made it false before I gave it air.
Once more, farewell--I wo'not,--
Now I can say I wo'not, wo'not love you. [_Going. _

_Duke. _ You shall; and this shall be the seal of my affection.
[_Gives the letter. _
There take it, my Lucretia: I give it with more joy,
Than I with grief received it.

_Luc. _ Good night; I'll thank you for't some other time.

_Duke. _ You'll not abuse my love?

_Luc. _ No; but secure my honour.

_Duke. _ I'll force it from your hands. [LUCRETIA _runs. _

_Luc. _ Help, help, or I am ravished! help, for heaven's sake!

HIPPOLITA, LAURA, _and_ VIOLETTA, _within, at several places. _

_Within. _ Help, help Lucretia! they bear away Lucretia by force.

_Duke. _ I think there's a devil in every corner.

_Enter_ VALERIO.

_Val. _ Sir, the design was laid on purpose for you, and all the women
placed to cry. Make haste away; avoid the shame, for heaven's sake.

_Duke. _ [_going. _] O, I could fire this monastery!

_Enter_ FREDERICK _and_ ASCANIO.

[FREDERICK, _entering, speaks as to some behind him. _]

_Fred. _ Pain of your lives, let none of you presume to enter but
myself.

_Duke. _ My son! --O, I could burst with spite, and die with shame, to
be thus apprehended! this is the baseness and cowardice of guilt: an
army now were not so dreadful to me as that son, o'er whom the right
of nature gives me power.

_Fred. _ Sir, I am come--

_Duke. _ To laugh at first, and then to blaze abroad,
The weakness and the follies of your father.

_Val. _ Sir, he has men in arms attending him.

_Duke. _ I know my doom then. You have taken a popular occasion; I am
now a ravisher of chastity, fit to be made prisoner first, and then
deposed.

_Fred. _ You will not hear me, sir.

_Duke. _ No, I confess I have deserved my fate;
For, what had these grey hairs to do with love?
Or, if the unseemly folly would possess me,
Why should I chuse to make my son my rival?

_Fred. _ Sir, you may add, you banished me from Rome,
And, from the light of it, Lucretia's eyes.

_Duke. _ Nay, if thou aggravat'st my crimes, thou giv'st
Me right to justify them: thou doubly art my slave,
Both son and subject. I can do thee no wrong,
Nor hast thou right to arraign or punish me:
But thou inquir'st into thy father's years;
Thy swift ambition could not stay my death,
But must ride post to empire. Lead me now;
Thy crimes have made me guiltless to myself,
And given me face to bear the public scorn.
You have a guard without?

_Fred. _ I have some friends.

_Duke. _ Speak plainly your intent.
I love not a sophisticated truth,
With an allay of lie in't.

_Fred. _ [_Kneeling. _]
This is not, sir, the posture of a rebel,
But of a suppliant; if the name of son
Be too much honour to me.
What first I purpos'd, I scarce know myself.
Love, anger, and revenge, then rolled within me,
And yet, even then, I was not hurried farther
Than to preserve my own.

_Duke. _ Your own! What mean you?

_Fred. _ My love, and my Lucretia, which I thought,
In my then boiling passion, you pursued
With some injustice, and much violence;
This led me to repel that force by force.
'Twas easy to surprise you, when I knew
Of your intended visit.

_Duke. _ Thank my folly.

_Fred. _ But reason now has reassumed its place,
And makes me see how black a crime it is
To use a force upon my prince and father.

_Duke. _ You give me hope you will resign Lucretia.

_Fred. _ Ah no; I never can resign her to you:
But, sir, I can my life; which, on my knees,
I tender, as the atoning sacrifice:
Or if your hand (because you are a father)
Be loth to take away that life you gave,
I will redeem your crime, by making it
My own: So you shall still be innocent, and I
Die blessed, and unindebted for my being.

_Duke. _ O Frederick, you are too much a son, [_Embracing him. _
And I too little am a father: you,
And you alone, have merited Lucretia;
'Tis now my only grief,
I can do nothing to requite this virtue:
For to restore her to you,
Is not an act of generosity,
But a scant, niggard justice; yet I love her
So much, that even this little, which I do,
Is like the bounty of an usurer;
High to be priz'd from me,
Because 'tis drawn from such a wretched mind.