« PreviousContinue »
So noble a compassion in that heart,
with another's fair affections ? Can mercy drop from those eyes? Can miracles be wrought upon a dead man, When all the power you have, and perfect object, Lies in another's light, and his deserves it? Cel. Do not despair; nor do not think too
boldly I dare abuse my promise; 'twas your friend's, And so fast tied, I thought no time could ruin; But so much has your danger, and that spell, The powerful name of friend, prevail'd above him, To whom I ever owe obedience, That here I am, by his command, to cure ye; Nay more, for ever, by his full resignment; And willingly I ratify it.
Fran. Hold, for heaven sake! Must my friend's misery make me a triumph? Bear I that noble name to be a traitor? Oh, virtuous goodness! keep thyself untainted : You have no power to yield, nor he to render, Nor I to take I am resolv'd to die first ! Val. Ha! say'st thou so :-Nay, then thou shalt
в в 2
(For you are all the wonder reveal:d of it);
Cel. Pray tell me,
Fran. D’you make a doubt?
Cel. And can you be unwilling, He being old and impotent ?—his aim, too, Levell'd at you, for your good; not constrain'd, But out of cure, and counsel ?-Alas! consider; Play but the woman with me, and consider, As he himself does, and I now dare see itTruly consider, sir, what misery
Fran. For virtue's sake, take heed!
Cel. What loss of youth,
years do only covet to arrive at,
Fran. This cannot be.
Cel. To you, unless you apply it With more and firmer faith, and so digest it: I speak but of things possible, not done, Nor like to be; a posset cures your sickness, And yet I know you grieve this ; and howsoever The worthiness of friend may make you stagger, (Which is a fair thing in you), yet, my patients.
My gentle patient, I would fain say more,
you would understand.
Cel. Yet, sure your sickness is not so forgetful, Nor you so willing to be lost?
Fran. Pray stay there:
Val. Excellent friend !
Fran. You have no share in goodness;
Cel. Do not rave, sir,
Fran. Oh, double hearted!
devil! What an inviting hell invented !--Tell me, And, if you yet remember what is goodness, Tell me by that, and truth, can one so cherish’d, So sainted in the soul of him, whose service Is almost turn'd to superstition, Whose every day endeavours and desires
Offer themselves like incense on your altar,
dare you, Must you, cast off this man, (tho' he were willing, Tho', in a nobleness to cross my danger, His friendship durst confirm it), without baseness, Without the stain of honour?-Shall not people Say liberally hereafter, “ There's the lady “ That lost her father, friend, herself, her faith
too, “ To fawn upon a stranger,” for aught you know, As faithless as yourself-in love, as fruitless ? Val. Take her, with all my heart !—Thou art so
Fran. Good heaven! what is this woman?
Move me a whit; nor you appear unto me
Fran. Whither d'you drive me?
Fran. Is this serious,
Cel. Keep your ears,
Fran. How like the sun