Marriage a-la-mode a comedy, as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal / written by John Dryden ...

SCENE I.

Enter Leonidas, musing, Amalthea following him.

Amal.

YOnder he is, and I must speak, or die; And yet 'tis death to speak; yet he must know I have a passion for him, and may know it With a less blush; because to offer it To his low fortunes, shows I lov'd before, His person, not his greatness.

Leon.

First scorn'd, and now commanded from the Court! The King is good; but he is wrought to this By proud Argaleon's malice. What more disgrace can Love and Fortune joyn T' inflict upon one man? I cannot now Behold my dear Palmyra: she, perhaps, too Is grown asham'd of a mean ill-plac'd love.

Amal.

Assist me, Venus, for I tremble when

Aside.

I am to speak, but I must force my self. Sir, I would crave but one short minute with you,

To him.

And some few words.

Leon.

—The proud Argaleon's sister!

Aside.

Amal.

Alas, it will not out; shame stops my mouth.

Aside.

Pardon my errour, Sir, I was mistaken, And took you for another.

Leon.

In spight of all his guards, I'll see Palmyra;

Aside.

Though meanly born, I have a Kingly Soul yet.

Amal.

I stand upon a precipice, where fain

Aside.

I would retire, but Love still thrusts me on: Now I grow bolder, and will speak to him. Sir, 'tis indeed to you that I would speak,

To him.

And if—

Leon.

O, you are sent to scorn my fortunes;

Your Sex and Beauty are your priviledge; But should your Brother—

Amal.

Now he looks angry, and I dare not speak. I had some business with you, Sir, But 'tis not worth your knowledge.

Leon.

Then 'twill be charity to let me mourn My griefs alone, for I am much disorder'd.

Amal.

'Twill be more charity to mourn 'em with you: Heav'n knows I pity you.

Leon.

— Your pity, Madam, Is generous, but 'tis unavailable.

Amal.

You know not till 'tis tri'd. Your sorrows are no secret; you have lost A Crown, and Mistris.

Leon.

— Are not these enough? Hang two such weights on any other soul, And see if it can bear 'em.

Amal.

More; you are banish'd, by my Brother's means, And ne'r must hope again to see your Princess; Except as Pris'ners view fair Walks and Streets, And careless Passengers going by their grates, To make 'em feel the want of liberty. But, worse then all, The King this morning has injoyn'd his Daughter T' accept my Brother's love.

Leon.

— Is this your pity? You aggravate my griefs, and print 'em deeper In new and heavier stamps.

Amal.

'Tis as Physicians show the desperate ill T' indear their Art, by mittigating pains They cannot wholly cure: when you despair Of all you wish, some part of it, because Unhop'd for, may be grateful; and some other—

Leon.

What other?

Amal.

Some other may— My shame again has seiz'd me, and I can go

Aside.

No farther—

Leon.

These often failing, sighs, and interruptions,

Make me imagine you have grief like mine: Have you ne'r lov'd?

Amal.

— I? never: 'tis in vain; I must despair in silence.

Aside.

Leon.

You come as I suspected then, to mock, At least observe my griefs: take it not ill That I must leave you.

Is going.

Amal.

You must not go with these unjust opinions. Command my life, and fortunes; you are wise, Think, and think well, what I can do to serve you.

Leon.

I have but one thing in my thoughts and wishes: If by your means I can obtain the sight Of my ador'd Palmyra; or, what's harder, One minutes time, to tell her, I die hers.

She starts back.

I see I am not to expect it from you; Nor could, indeed, with reason.

Amal.

Name any other thing: is Amalthea So despicable, she can serve your wishes In this alone?

Leon.

— If I should ask of heav'n, I have no other suit.

Amal.

To show you, then, I can deny you nothing, Though 'tis more hard to me then any other, Yet I will do't for you.

Leon.

Name quickly, name the means, speak my good Angel.

Amal.

Be not so much o'rjoy'd; for, if you are, I'll rather dye then do't. This night the Court Will be in Masquerade; You shall attend on me; in that disguise You may both see and speak to her, If you dare venture it.

Leon.

Yes, were a God her Guardian, And bore in each hand thunder. I would venture.

Amal.

Farewell then; two hours hence I will expect you: My heart's so full, that I can stay no longer.

Exit.

Leon.

Already it grows dusky; I'll prepare With haste for my disguise. But who are these?

Enter Hermogenes and Eubulus.

Her.

'Tis he; we need not fear to speak to him.

Eub.

Leonidas.

Leonidas.

—Sure I have known that voice.

Her.

You have some reason, Sir; 'tis Eubulus, Who bred you with the Princess; and, departing, Bequeath'd you to my care.

Leon.

My Foster, Father! let my knees express

Kneeling.

My joys for your return!

Eub.

Rise, Sir, you must not kneel.

Leon.

— E'r since you left me, I have been wandring in a maze of fate, Led by false fires of a fantastick glory, And the vain lustre of imagin'd Crowns, But, ah! why would you leave me? or how could you Absent yourself so long?

Eub.

I'll give you a most just account of both: And something more I have to tell you, which I know must cause your wonder; but this place, Though almost hid in darkness, is not safe. Already I discern some coming towards us

Torches appear.

With lights, who may discover me. Hermogenes, Your lodgings are hard by, and much more private.

Her.

There you may freely speak.

Leon.

—Let us make haste; For some affairs, and of no small importance, Call me another way.

Exeunt.

Enter Palamede and Rhodophil, with Vizor Masques in their hands, and Torches before 'em.

Pala.

We shall have noble sport to night, Rhodophil; this Masquerading is a most glorious invention.

Rho.

I believe it was invented first by some jealous Lover, to discover the haunts of his Jilting Mistris; or, perhaps, by some distressed servant, to gain an opportunity with a jealous man's wife.

Pala.

No, it must be the invention of a woman, it has so much of subtilty and love in it.

Rho.

I am sure 'tis extremely pleasant; for to go unknown, is the next degree to going invisible.

Pala.

What with our antique habits, and feign'd voices, do you know me? and I know you? Methinks we move and talk just like so many over-grown Puppets.

Rho.

Masquerade is onely Vizor-masque improv'd, a height∣ning of the same fashion.

Pala.

No; Masquerade is Vizor-masque in debauch; and I like it the better for't: for, with a Vizor-masque, we fool our selves into courtship, for the sake of an eye that glanc'd; or a hand that stole it self out of the glove sometimes, to give us a sample of the skin: but in Masquerade there is nothing to be known, she's all Terra incognita, and the bold discoverer leaps ashoar, and takes his lot among the wild Indians and Salvages, without the vile consideration of safety to his person, or of beauty, or wholesomeness in his Mistris.

Enter Beliza.

Rho.

Beliza, what make you here?

Bel.

Sir, my Lady sent me after you, to let you know, she finds her self a little indispos'd, so that she cannot be at Court, but is retir'd to rest, in her own appartment, where she shall want the happiness of your dear embraces to night.

Rho.

A very fine phrase, Beliza, to let me know my wife de∣sires to lie alone.

Pala.

I doubt, Rhodophil, you take the pains sometimes to in∣struct your wife's Woman in these elegancies.

Rho.

Tell my dear Lady, that since I must be so unhappy as not to wait on her to night, I will lament bitterly for her ab∣sence. 'Tis true, I shall be at Court, but I will take no diver∣tisement there; and when I return to my solitary bed, if I am so forgetful of my passion as to sleep, I will dream of her; and betwixt sleep and waking, put out my foot towards her side, for mid-night consolation; and not finding her, I will 〈…〉〈…〉 imagine my self a most desolate widower.

Bel.

I shall do your commands, Sir.

Exit.

Rho.

(Aside)

She's sick as aptly for my purpose, as if she had contriv'd it so: well, if ever woman was a help-meet for man, my Spouse is so; for within this hour I receiv'd a Note from Melantha, that she would meet me this evening in Masquerade in Boys habit, to rejoyce with me before she entred into fet∣ters; for I find she loves me better then Palamede, onely because he's to be her husband. There's something of antipathy in the word Marriage to the nature of love; marriage is the meer Ladle of affection, that cools it when 'tis never so fiercely boil∣ing over.

Pala.

Dear Rhodophil, I must needs beg your pardon; there is an occasion fall'n out which I had forgot: I cannot be at Court to night.

Rho.

Dear Palamede, I am sorry we shall not have one course together at the herd; but I find your Game lies single: good fortune to you with your Mistris.

Exit.

Pala.

He has wish'd me good fortune with his Wife: there's no sin in this then, there's fair leave given. Well, I must go visit the sick; I cannot resist the temptations of my charity. O what a difference will she find betwixt a dull resty Husband, and a quick vigorous Lover! he sets out like a Carrier's Horse, plod∣ding on, because he knows he must, with the Bells of Matri∣mony chiming so melancholly about his neck, in pain till he's at his journeys end, and dispairing to get thither, he is fain to for∣tifie imagination with the thoughts of another woman: I, take heat after heat, like a well-breath'd Courser, and— But hark, what noise is that? swords!

Clashing of Swords within.

Nay, then have with you.

Exit Palamede.

Re-enter Palamede, with Rhodophil: and Doralice in man's habit.

Rho.

Friend, your relief was very timely, otherwise I had been oppress'd.

Pala.

What was the quarrel?

Rho.

What I did, was in rescue of this Youth.

Pala.

What cause could he give 'em?

Dor.

The cause was nothing but onely the common cause

of fighting in Masquerades: they were drunk, and I was sober.

Rho.

Have they not hurt you?

Dor.

No; but I am exceeding ill, with the fright on't.

Pala.

Let's lead him to some place where he may refresh himself.

Rho.

Do you conduct him then.

Pala.

(Aside)

How cross this happens to my design of going to Doralice! for I am confident she was sick on purpose that I should visit her. Hark you, Rhodophil, could not you take care of the stripling? I am partly engag'd to night.

Rho.

You know I have business: but come, Youth, if it must be so.

Dor.

(To Rhodophil)

No, good Sir, do not give your self that trouble; I shall be safer, and better pleas'd with your friend here.

Rho.

Farewell then; once more I wish you a good adven∣ture.

Pala.

Damn this kindness! now must I be troubled with this young Rogue, and miss my opportunity with Doralice.

Exit Rhodophil alone, Palamede with Doralice.