THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 A COMEDY ; 
 
 BY HENRY GLAPTHORNE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR HURST, ROBINSON, AND CO., 
 
 90, CHEAPSIDE, AND 8, PALL MALL; 
 AND ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND CO., EDINBURGH. 
 
 MDCCCXXV. 
 

 
 LONDON *. 
 
 Printed by D. S. Maurice, Fenehurch Street. 
 
-kA 
 
 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 This is the latest and best of Glapthorne's plays ; — it is 
 more dramatic, and less extravagant, than " Albertus Wal- 
 lenstein," although by no means free from the hyperbole 
 and vicious redundancy of figure which distinguish the 
 style of this author. " The Lady's Privilege" is, however, 
 altogether an eloquent composition, and is written with 
 more feeling than the author usually displays. 
 
THE LADIES PRIVILEDGE. 
 
 AS IT WAS ACTED WITH GOOD ALLOWANCE, AT THE 
 
 COCK PIT IN DRURY LANE, AND BEFORE THEIR 
 
 MAIESTIES AT WHITE HALL, TWTCE. 
 
 BY THEIR MAIESTIES SERVANTS. 
 THE AUTHOR, HENRY GLAPTHORNE. 
 
 Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido. 
 
 IMPRINTED at LONDON by J. ORES, for FRANCIS CONSTABLE : 
 
 AND ARE TO BE SOLD AT HIS SHOPS IN KING'S^gBJET, AT THE 
 SIGNE OF THE GOAT, AND IN WESTMINSTER HALL. 
 
 •'S^^|E 
 
 1640. 
 
TO THE 
 TRUE EXAMPLE OF HEROIC VIRTUE, AND FAVOURER OF ARTS, 
 
 SIR FREDERICK CORNWALLIS. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 You are so well acquainted with the justice 
 of nobility, that your own fame is your own history : you 
 are right in that, Sir. Nor need I study to express it in a 
 larger character, since it is texted already in a volume, 
 time (which is edax rerum) cannot exterminate. Think 
 not, worthiest Sir, this can in me be flattery ; your worth 
 admits none : nor dare I sell myself to such a slavery, as to 
 begin my service to you with that unmanly prostitution : 
 you have always afforded me such transcendent favours, 
 that I should descend to ingratitude, should not I study a 
 retribution : which though I cannot reach at, accept, Sir, 
 I beseech you, this essay of gratitude from 
 
 Your most obliged honourer, 
 
 HEN: GLAPTHORNE. 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Enter Bonivet, Lactantio, and Vitelli. 
 
 Bon. Is the news certain he is arrived ? 
 
 Fit. The Duke 
 Had sure intelligence that the whole fleet 
 Anchor'd last night without the bay, and now, 
 For confirmation of it, the thick breath 
 Of his saluting cannon hangs in clouds 
 Over the Citadel ; and the glad noise 
 Of the applauding people gratulates 
 His entrance to the river. 
 
 Bon. The day rose 
 So cheerfully, as if it meant to guild, 
 With unaccustomed light, his sails, swoln big 
 As pregnant mother, with the pleasing air 
 Of victory. 
 
2 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Lac. The rumour of the fleet 
 Has fill'd all Italy with wonder, how 
 So small a number should, in open fight, 
 Defeat the Turkish navy ; and conclude 
 The General's skill and valour the main cause 
 Of the atchievement. 
 
 Vit. He has return'd as large 
 Assurance of his worth as when his force, 
 BackM with successive fortune, (which attends 
 His mighty resolution) overthrew 
 The power of Venice in a fight which chang'd 
 The sea into a flame, and took me in't 
 His fortunate captive. 
 
 Bon. Sir, 'tis noble in you 
 To acknowledge that as good, which might have been 
 Your imminent ruin ; stately buildings so 
 Rise out of ancient structures, which the rage 
 Of eating time or anger of the winds 
 Had totter' d from the ground-works. You may prove 
 As fairly happy in the General's love 
 As in the honour which your name or countrv 
 Conferr'd on your desert. 
 
 Vit. You speak the scope 
 Of my intention. A perfect friend 
 Includes both honour, country, family, 
 And all that's dear and holy : such a friend 
 As is my Doria ; to whose spacious merit 
 Succession shall pay volumes; who was man 
 Ere, in the smooth field of his face, rough age 
 Display'd his hairy ensign ; who has pulPd 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 6 
 
 Bright honour's wreath from her triumphant front, 
 In battles, when the trembling sea, being calm, 
 Did crowd, and thrust his waves into a storm, 
 To part the dreadful fury. 
 
 Lac. The report 
 Of his land services do stand on terms 
 Of competition with the multitude 
 Of his sea victories. 
 
 Viu Yet must subscribe 
 To his naval triumphs, though the land 
 Has seen him conqueror, when the bodies slain 
 Buried the ground they died on, which did shake 
 To view itself entomb'd by them for whom 
 It was ordain'd a sepulchre ; the drums 
 Were to his ears delightful as the lute ; 
 Pikes, moving then in forest, seemed as groves 
 Of lofty cedars, stirr'd by sportive winds ; 
 And when war's choristers, the lofty fife, 
 And surly trumpet, sung an army dirge, 
 That fatal music rapp'd his sprightful sense 
 Like jovial hymns at nuptials. 
 
 Bon. You cannot exceed 
 His praise's duty, since his worth contains 
 Honour's most several attributes. 
 
 Enter Frangipan. 
 
 Lac. Sign or Frangipan ! 
 What ! riding post on foot ! whither in such haste ? 
 
 Fran. Very well met, gentlemen : I scarce have breath 
 To utter a wise word yet. 
 
4 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Lac. We do believe you, Signor, and are in doubt 
 When you'll have leisure for't. 
 
 Fran. Hear you the news ? 
 The General's arriv'd ! farewell ! He will not land 
 Till I have had the maiden-head of his hand. [exit. 
 
 Bon. Tis such another parrot, — he relates 
 Things by tradition, as dogs bark ; his news 
 Still marches in the rear, yet he relates it 
 As confidently as if each tale he tells 
 Was to be straight inserted as an eighth 
 To the seven former wonders. But here comes one 
 Will cut off the fool's character : 
 
 Enter Doria, A dorm, and Sabelli. 
 
 renowned General. 
 Do us the gracious honour to permit us 
 Salute the hand has sav'd our country ! 
 
 Do. Noble friends ! 
 I am more victorious in your early loves 
 Than in the Turkish Conquest, though I remain 
 A captive to your kindness. My Vitelli, 
 The solid earth, or a continu'd rock, 
 May? by some strange eruptions of the wind, 
 Be rent and so divided, but true friends 
 Are adjuncts most inseparable. I have 
 Still worn thee here, Vitelli, as a jewel 
 Fit for no other cabinet. Gentlemen, 
 Your welcome hands; methinks, we should embrace, 
 So as the ships grapple in hot fight ; nor part 
 Till our affectionate fury has discharged 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Vollies of joyful courtesy. 
 
 Ador. This is fitter ceremony for them 
 Than to embrace an enemy, who will not part 
 On terms so easy : these gentlemen know better 
 To cut a caper than a cable, 
 
 Or board a pink in the burdels, than a pinnace at sea. 
 I marvel, my lord should know such milk-sops. 
 
 Tit. My lord, 
 You come t' instruct us courtship ; youVe taught 
 Your foes to fear your valour : you appear 
 As if this were your nuptial-day, on which 
 You were to wed bright triumph ; but you can 
 As well court peace in silks as raging war 
 In burnish'd steel, and touch the ravishing strings 
 With as much cunning industry as if 
 Mars could, like Orpheus, strike the trembling harp. 
 Signor Adorni, welcome home 1 I hope 
 You've made a richer prize than when my ship 
 Struck to your mercy. 
 
 Ador. Yes, we are very like 
 To make good prize indeed, when all the profit 
 Goes to the State and heavy-headed Burgers, 
 That lie and snort at home, and eat what we 
 Sweat bloody drops for. 
 Do. Honest Adorni ! 
 His bluntness must excuse him, gentlemen. 
 How harsh and rough soe'er he seems, his humour 
 Will quickly vary. When I have been tir'd 
 With toil of war, the observations which 
 His travels have afforded him of men, 
 
b THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Countries, and manners, lively set forth 
 
 By his expressive action, has begot 
 
 Mirth in my drowsy soul. When you're acquainted 
 
 With his conceit of carriage, you'll not affect 
 
 A jovialler companion. — See, the Duke ! 
 
 \]\e kneels to the Duke : flourish. 
 
 Enter Trivulci, Chrisea, Eurione, and Corimba. 
 
 Tri. My noble warrior ! 
 Peace now looks lovely on us, since we enjoy 
 The author oPt in safety. Rise, my Doria ; 
 Let me embrace those youthful limbs which clothe 
 War in Love's livery. Thy honour'd father, 
 When he returnd laden with Turkish spoils, 
 As trophies of his valour, from the slaughter 
 Of Haly Bassa, at Lepanto, where 
 The Christian name was hazarded, arriv'd not 
 More welcome to the State. Believe me, youth, 
 Had'st thou a mother living to be proud 
 Of thy nativity, unless she wept 
 For joy to see thee, could no way express 
 A more affectionate gladness. Chrisea, 
 Eurione, welcome him home who cannot 
 Receive an equal grace to the just value 
 Of his deservings 1 
 
 Chri. Your grace prepares us for that 
 We did intend to offer. 
 
 Corim. Yes, truly, we did, Sir ; this General is ill bred, I 
 warrant him, to slight a gentlewoman of my demeanour. 
 
 Dor. My gracious lord ! 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. { 
 
 To tender thanks where 'tis a debt, not duty, 
 
 Befits an equal ; subjects ought to offer, 
 
 With the sincere devotion that our priests 
 
 Do prayers to heaven, their hands as sacrifices 
 
 To their deserving princes, whose sole favours 
 
 Do, as the quick'ning lustre of the sun, 
 
 Cherish inferior spirits. Yours have been 
 
 Shower'd down on me as elemental dew 
 
 On the parched earth, which drinks it up and cannot 
 
 Give heaven a retribution ; yet, my duty 
 
 Shall speak my willing thankfulness ; and while 
 
 These arms can wield victorious steel, no danger 
 
 Shall fright me from that service which I owe 
 
 My prince and country ; since men are not born 
 
 For themselves only, but their life's a debt 
 
 To the commonwealth that bred 'em. 
 Tri. Gentle warrior ! 
 
 Thy father's spirit swells thy soul — I read it 
 
 In thy submissive loyalty : let's in ; 
 
 'Tis just that those who caus'd the wars to cease 
 
 Should have the early fruits of their own peace. 
 
 [flourish ; exeunt all but Corimba and Eur tone. 
 Euri. Corimba, 
 
 Have you employ'd a serious diligence yet, 
 
 In giving Lord Vitelli secret notice 
 
 Of my affection to him ? 
 Corim. Truly, madam, 
 
 As I hope to have a husband yet 
 
 'Ere I be fifty, I have been so ta'en up 
 
 About my new device, I scarce have leisure 
 
8 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 To say my prayers ; sincerely, ladybird, 
 You look sprightly, ravishing ; only this star 
 Was not well cut, nor well laid on ; it wanted 
 A little of my learned art. Vitelli ! 
 Doubt him not, Madam ; he shall love you : so, 
 'Tis pretty neat now ; I would not have a lady 
 That wears a glass about her, have the least 
 Pimple on her countenance discomposed; it does 
 Disgallant a whole beauty. 
 
 Eurl. But, Corimba, 
 What's this to me ? Thou may'st as well tell tales 
 Of love to one departing life : these toys 
 Relish with me as bitter pills with children. 
 Wilt thou effect my business ? 
 
 Corim. I confess, 
 1 have been very fortunate in bringing 
 Couples together, though I ne'er could couple 
 Myself with any. Your ladyship could not 
 Have chose a better agent. 
 
 Enter Frangipan. 
 
 Fran. Save you, sweet lady ! Save you, aunt ! I have 
 Lost all my morning exercise at tennis 
 In seeking you, and yet was still in hazard 
 Whether I should meet you. I must request a little 
 Help from your art, good aunt ; a patch or two 
 To make me appear more lovely, for my glass 
 Tells me I have a very scurvy face, 
 Without some ornament. 
 
 Corim. Tis a good innocent face ; be not ashamM on't ! 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. V 
 
 111 cut out one instantly. Nay, I never 
 
 Go unprovided of materials. Let me see — 
 
 What form is best for thee. Thou'rt something timorous ; 
 
 A heart, stuck neatly on thy face, will excite 
 
 Thy heart to more audacity. Good Madam, 
 
 Does't not become him prettily ? Cousin, be sure, 
 
 You do commend this fashion to all gentlemen. 
 
 Wer't but as common among them as ladies, 
 
 My wit would be eternally made famous 
 
 For the invention. 
 
 Fran. Will't please you to despatch, aunt ? Pin in haste ; 
 I've a whole staple of news to vent. 
 
 Corim. Of what troe ? 
 Aside.'] I would have my kindred more ridiculous 
 To th' world than I am. [aloud.'] Cousin, all your news 
 Is stale : invent me, rather, some choice story, 
 How true or false no matter, and declared 
 For news, 'twill please far better, and endear 
 Your judgment i'the relation. 
 
 Enter Doria, Chrisea, and Sabelli. 
 
 Fran. Noble General, you're happily encountered. 
 Have you seen my aunt yet, Signor ? here she is. I have 
 News to inform you, worth your knowledge. 
 
 Dor. Keep them, 
 Good Signor, till some other time. Eurione, 
 We must implore your absence ; we'd be private. 
 
 Corim. Why, we have been trusted 
 With as good secrets ; please your Lordship, 
 Accept this crescent ; you see, my cousin 
 
10 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Is in the fashion ; let me lay it on. 
 
 In sooth, your face is, for a soldier's, 
 
 Too smooth and polite ; this device will shew 
 
 As't had a scar upon it, which is an honour 
 
 To faces military. 
 
 Dor. Good Madam gravity, 
 Keep your devices for your chamber-lords, 
 That dance to ladies' shadows ! Pray, begone ! 
 We need not your society — Sabelli, 
 Put to the door, and then begone ! — 
 
 [exeunt all but Chrisea and Dor'ux. 
 Chrisea ! 
 The modest turtles, which, 
 In view of more lascivious birds, 
 Exchange their innocent loves in timorous sighs, 
 Do, when alone, most piteously convert 
 Their chirps to billing, and, with feather'd arms, 
 Encompass mutually their gawdy necks. 
 
 Chri. You would infer, that we 
 Should, in their imitation, spend this time, 
 Intended for a conference, which concerns us 
 Nearer than compliment. 
 
 Dor. Why, my Chrisea, 
 We may entwine as freely, since our loves 
 Are not at age to conceive a sin, 
 Thine being new born, and mine too young to speak 
 A lawless passion ; for my services, 
 Pay me with priceless treasure of a kiss, 
 While, from the balmy fountains of thy lips, 
 Distils a moisture, precious as the dew, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 1 1 
 
 The amorous bounty of the morn 
 Casts on the rose's cheek : what wary distance 
 Do you observe ? Speak, and enrich my ears 
 With accents more harmonious than the lark's, 
 When she sings hymns to harvest. 
 
 Chri. Sure, my lord, 
 You've studied compliment ; I thought the war 
 Had taught men resolution, and not language. 
 
 Dor. Oh ! you instruct me justly : I should rather 
 Have ta'en the modest privilege of your lip, 
 And then endeavour 'd to repay the grace 
 With my extremest eloquence. 
 Chri. You mistake me. 
 Dor. Remit my ignorance, and let me read 
 The mystery of thy language in thy looks, 
 In which are lively characters of love, 
 Writ in the polish'd tablets of thy cheeks, 
 Which seem to vary colours like the clouds 
 When they presage a storm ; and those bright eyes 
 Dart unaccustom'd beams, which shine as anger 
 Flash'd from their fiery motion. 
 
 Chr'i. You misconstrue 
 The intention of my looks. I am not angry 
 Though much distemper'd. 
 
 Dor At what ? by whom ? 
 Lives there a creature so extremely bad, 
 Dares discompose your patience ? Speak : reveal 
 The monster to me. Were he fenced with flames, 
 Or lock'd in bulwarks of congealed ice, 
 And all the fiends stood sentinels to guard 
 
12 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 The passage, I would enforce it to his heart ; 
 Through which, the mounting violence of my rage 
 Should pierce like lightning. 
 
 Chri. I believe, 
 That, in some trivial quarrel to redeem 
 My fame, should scandal touch it, you would fight, 
 Perhaps, to shew your valour ; but I have 
 A task t' enjoin you which my fears possess me 
 You dare not venture to accept. 
 
 Dor. By truth, 
 You wrong my faith and courage, to suspect me 
 Of so extreme a cowardice. Have I stood the heat 
 Of battles till, upon the mountainous piles 
 Of slaughtered carcases, the souls which left 'em 
 Seem'd to ascend to heaven, that your suspicion 
 Should taint my honour with this base revolt ? 
 This is not noble in you. 
 
 Chri. Do not rage. 
 When you shall hear it, you will then confess 
 Your confident error. 
 
 Dor. My loyalty will not 
 Permit that strong rebellion in my breast 
 To doubt the meanest falsehood in a word 
 Her voice can utter, which should charm the world 
 To a belief some cherubim has left 
 Its room in heaven to carol to the earth 
 Celestial anthems, and I now begin 
 To question my own frailty ; but, by all 
 Which we call good or holy, be't your will 
 I should invade inevitable death 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 13 
 
 In its most ugly horror, my obedience 
 Shall, like a careless pilot, cast this bark 
 On that pale rock of ruin. 
 
 Chri. Will you swear this ? 
 
 Dor. Yes : invent 
 A form of oath so binding that no law 
 Or power can dispense with, and I'll seaFt 
 With my best blood. Pray, madam, tell me what 
 The imposition is you judge so easily 
 Will stagger my just truth, that I may fly, 
 On love's light wings, to act it. 
 
 Chri. Hear it, then; and do not, 
 As you respect your oath or love, request 
 The cause of what I shall command. 
 
 Dor. Still suspicious ! 
 My honour be my witness, which no action 
 Shall violate, I will not. 
 
 Chri. Enough : that vow 
 Cannot but be material ; receive it : — 
 I must no longer love you. 
 
 Dor. That's no command ; what did you say, Chrisea ? 
 
 Chri. I must no longer love you : and command you, 
 Leave your affection to me. 
 
 Dor. You're very pleasant, lady. 
 
 Chri. You'll find me very serious ; nay, more; 
 I love another ; and I do enjoin you, 
 Since 'tis a man you may o'er-rule, t' assist me 
 In my obtaining him, without whose love 
 I'm resolute to perish ! 
 Dor. Sure I dream, 
 
14 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Or some strange sudden death has changed this frame 
 To immortality ; for, were I flesh, 
 And should hear this, certain my violent rage 
 Would pull me to some desp'rate act beyond 
 The reach of fury : these are words would infect 
 Rose-colour'd Patience' clear and lovely front 
 With loathsome leprosy, change flames to tears, 
 And, with unusual harshness of the sound, 
 Deafen the genius of the world. 
 
 Chri. Where's now 
 The strength of soul you boasted ? Does the noise 
 Of the death-speaking cannon not affright 
 Your settled resolution, and the voice 
 Of a weak woman shake your youthful blood 
 Into an ague ? since you so ill bear this, 
 W T hen you shall hear the man whose love has stoPn 
 Your interest, you will rage more than unlimited fire 
 In populous cities. 
 
 Dor, Sure, 'tis she who speaks : 
 I do enjoy, yet, sound untainted sense : 
 Each faculty does, with a peaceful harmony, retain 
 Its proper organ ; yet she did rehearse, 
 She must no longer love me. Oh ! that word 
 Transforms the soul of quiet into rage, 
 Above distracted madness. Madam ! tell me — 
 What place is this ? for you have led me 
 Into a subtle labyrinth, where I never 
 Shall have fruition of my former freedom, 
 But, like an humble anchorite, that digs 
 With his own nails his grave, must live coniin'd 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 15 
 
 To the sad maze for ever. 
 
 C/iri. Sir, you cannot 
 By most submissive and continued prayers, 
 Reclaim my affection, which stands as fix'd as fate 
 Upon your friend Vitelli. 
 
 Dor. My friend Vitelli ! 
 
 Chru Sir 3 I not use 
 To jest my life away ; Vitelli is 
 The person to obtain whose precious love 
 I do conjure you by all ties of honour 
 T' employ your utmost diligence. 
 
 Dor. Can I be 
 So tame o' the sudden ? has the feeble spirit 
 Of some degenerate coward frighted hence 
 My resolution, which has given a law 
 To fate itself, that I now become 
 The stale to my own ruin ? O Chrisea I 
 Who wert so good, that virtue would have sigh'd 
 At the unwelcome spectacle, had you 
 Appeared but woman in a passion, 
 Though of the slightest consequence ; , oh, do not 
 Abjure that saint-like temper; it will be 
 A change hereafter burd'nous to your soul, 
 As sin to one who, all his life-time blest 
 With peace of conscience, at his dying minute 
 Falls into mortal enmity with heaven, 
 And perishes eternally, 
 
 Chri. My will guides my determination, and you must 
 In honour act your promise. 
 
 Dor. Yes, I will, 
 
16 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Since you can urge it, tho' but two 
 Things precious to me, and one cruel word 
 Robs me of both my friend and her. Chrisea, 
 I have not left another sigh to move, 
 Nor tear to beg your pity. 
 
 Chri. They are but vain : 
 You may as easily think to kiss the stars 
 'Cause they shine on you, as recall my vows, 
 Which I will urge no further, but wish you 
 Regard your honour. But farewell ! I must 
 Be cruel ere to my own love unjust. [exit. 
 
 Dor. She's gone ! What vapour, which the nattering sun 
 Attracts to heaven, as to create a star, 
 And throw it a fading meteor to the earth, 
 Has fall'n like me ? I am not yet grown ripe 
 For perfect sorrow ; but, as a bubbling brook, 
 That sports and curls within its flow'ry banks 
 Till the vast sea devour it, only falling 
 Into the abyss of mischief; passions surround 
 My intellectual powers ; only my heart, 
 Like to a rocky island, does advance 
 Above the foamy violence of the flood 
 Its unmov'd head : love be my careful guide ! 
 Who sails 'gainst danger both of wind and tide. 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 17 
 
 ACT II. SCENE I. 
 Enter Bonivet, Lactantio, and Adorni. 
 
 Bon. Thanks, good Adorni ; we are much endear'd 
 To your relation. This rich Corsic wine 
 Erected our dull spirits, and you shall 
 Command our service in as high and jocund 
 A nature. 
 
 Ador. Sir, although I am 
 One that affects not the nice phrase of Court, 
 Having been nurs'd in war, yet I can frame 
 Myself to imitation of what humour 
 Shall there, or anywhere, appear to be 
 Worthy my laughter. 
 
 Bon. You have explain'd your knowledge. We, who 
 breathe 
 Only the air of Genoa, and ne'er tasted 
 Foreign behaviour, covet nothing more 
 Than certain knowledge of it, as 'tis proper to 
 Complexions intellectual to delight 
 In novelties : your Spaniard, as you say, 
 Is of a staid, serious, and haughty garb ; 
 Acts all his words with shrugs and gestures ; kisses 
 His hand away in kindness ; is of diet 
 Sparing, will pick his teeth as formally 
 After an orange, or a clove of garlick, 
 (Which is his ordinary morsel) as he'd fed 
 On partridges or pheasants. 
 
18 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Ador. 'Tis his grace 
 After his dinner, Sir ; and to confirm 
 Their most officious gravity, a Castilian 
 Was, for some crime in Paris, to be whipt 
 In triumph through the streets, and, being admonished 
 To be more swift of foot, [and] so avoid 
 The dreadful lash the sooner, in scorn answered, 
 He rather would be flay'd alive than bate 
 A tittle of his gravity. 
 
 Lac. Much good 
 Do it his patient shoulders : but, Adorni, 
 What think you of the French ? 
 
 Ador. Very airy people, who participate 
 More fire than earth ; yet, generally, good, 
 And nobly disposition' d ; something inclining 
 To over-weening fancy. — 
 
 Enter Corimba. 
 
 This lady 
 Tells my remembrance of a comic scene 
 I once saw in their theatre. 
 
 Bon. Add it to 
 Your former courtesies, and express it. 
 
 Ador. Your entreaty 
 Is a command, if this grave lady please 
 To act the Lady I must court. 
 
 Corim. Why, do you think I cannot play the woman ? I 
 have play'd a woman's part about twenty years ago in a 
 Gourt masque ; and, tho' I say't, as well as some o' them, 
 and have been courted too. But it is truth, I have a fool- 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 19 
 
 ish quality, — as many more women are guilty of besides 
 myself, — I always love them best which slight me most, 
 and scorn those that do court me. Look you, Signor, if 't 
 be a Lover's part you are to act, take a black spot or two. 
 I can furnish you ; 'twill make your face more amorous, 
 and appear more gracious in your mistress' eyes. 
 
 Ador. Stand fair, lady. 
 
 Corim. 'Tis your part to stand fair, Sir, doubt not my 
 carriage. [Adorni acts furiously r .] O, most rare man! sin- 
 cerely, I shall love the French the better while I live, for 
 this. Nay, pray, Sir ! Gentlemen, entreat the man to pa- 
 cify his wrath ! Tell him, I'll love him, rather than see 
 him rage thus. 
 
 Bon. He would have just reason to be mad, indeed, then ; 
 But now the mode is alter'd. [Adorni acts again. 
 
 Corim. Excellently ravishing ! this is of force to make 
 the hardest-hearted lady love him. Can I entreat him but 
 to teach my cousin some of his French, he will for ever be 
 engallanted. 
 
 Enter Eurione and Frangipan. 
 
 Bon. Beauteous cousin I 
 You've miss'd the quaintest sport ! Honest Adorni ! 
 You would endear this lady to you, would you 
 Please to re-act it. 
 
 Ador. Nay, if you make me common once, farewell ! 
 I am not for your company. 
 
 Corim. Pray, Sir, a word or two: here is a gentleman, — 
 Nay, nephew, though I say't, a toward young man, — 
 Vouchsafe him your acquaintance. 
 
20 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Ador. Will he fight ? Is he a soldier? 
 
 Corim. No truly, Sir, nor shall he be : 
 I would be loth to have my only cousin 
 Heated about the heart with lead ; he's dull 
 Enough already. Frangipan, come hither. 
 This gentleman will, for my sake, teach thee French. 
 
 Ador, For your sake, reverend Madam, T shall do't. 
 Sir, please you walk, we will confer on rudiments. 
 
 Corim. Come with him, coz. Sir, an you have occasion 
 To use me in a pleasure stands within 
 The ability of my performance, pray, command ; 
 You shall not be deny'd. 
 
 Ador. Come, Signors, will you walk ? 
 
 ^exeunt all but Eurione, Bonivet, and Corimba. 
 
 Euri. Cousin Bonivet, 
 I should be glad, after some minutes, to 
 Enjoy your company. 
 
 Bon. I shall attend your ladyship. 
 
 Euri. Corimba, what answer from Vitelli ? do I live ? 
 Or, in the killing rigour of his scorn, 
 Must I die wretched ? 
 
 Corim. Sincerely, madam, 
 You are too timorous of your own deserts, 
 Or else you durst not doubt that he, or any, 
 You being so neat yourself, and drest as neatly 
 As any lady in the Court, should hazard 
 The reputation of his wit by slighting 
 Such an accomplished beauty. 
 
 Euri. You talk, 
 And play the cunning flatterer, to excuse 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 21 
 
 Your negligence; but know, affection's fire 
 Once kindled by desire, and blown by thought 
 Into a heat, expires a thousand sighs, 
 Which, as love's smoke, like incense, fly to heaven : 
 While the light fire with nimble wings doth soar 
 To its own sphere, true lovers' hearts, who cherish 
 The name till they to ashes burn, and perish. 
 
 Corim. Why, ladybird, are you so passionate ? The gen- 
 tleman 
 Is a kind gentleman, has all that may 
 Set forth a man ; for when 1 told him how, 
 Like a hurt deer, you wounded were with love, 
 'Life ! how he leapt for joy ! as if the self- 
 Same arrow which struck you, had glanc'd on him ; 
 And, as a token of his love, he sent you 
 A bleeding heart in a cornelion, which, 
 Beshrew me, most unfortunately I lost. 
 
 Enter Chrisea. 
 
 ChrL Corimba, see 
 If General Doria be within ! Eurione, \_exit Corimba. 
 
 I have been seeking thee. How dost thou, sister ? 
 I must demand a question that concerns 
 The safety of your fame. 
 
 Euru I rest 
 Secure in mine own innocence, and no malice 
 Can forge an accusation which can blemish 
 My meanest thought with scandal. 
 
 Chri. I believe ; but know, Eurione, I am inform'd 
 You do affect Vitelli, and conjure you, 
 
22 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 By the dear memory of our mother, tell me 
 If the report be certain. 
 
 Euri. Should I deny't, 
 My love would muster thousand blushes up 
 T' invade my guilty cheeks. I must confess, 
 I love him so as modesty and truth 
 Afford me warrant. 
 
 Chri. Tis ill done, and childishly, so easily to impart 
 The treasure of your liberty to keeping 
 Of a neglected stranger. 
 
 Euri. His own worth 
 Deserves as noble knowledge here as many 
 Who borrow titular glory from the dust 
 Of their forgotten ancestors. 
 
 Chri. You defend him 
 Like a brave championess, as if you meant 
 *P engage your dearest pawn of life and honour 
 In his protection. 
 
 Euri. Say I did, the even'st, 
 Though most strict justice, would allow, as lawful, 
 My honourable purpose. 
 
 Chri. Fie ! you are led on too wildly by your fancy, 
 sister. 
 It ill befits the greatness of your blood 
 To seek to mix its pure stream with a poor 
 Regardless river. 
 
 Euri. He appears to me 
 Broad in his own dimensions as the sea; 
 Clear as a brook, whose crystal lips salute 
 Only the freshest meadows ; such a creature, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 23 
 
 That were some cunning painter to express 
 An Angel cloth'd in human shape, he might 
 From his derive a pattern. 
 
 Chri. But suppose, my fancy 
 Should oversway my judgment to affect 
 Vitelli, sure, your manners will allow me, 
 By willing resignation of your choice, 
 The privilege of my birth-right. 
 
 Euri. Would you urge 
 A claim so justly mine, because you view'd 
 The light two years before me ? No, Chrisea; 
 Love 's an unlimited passion, that admits 
 No ceremonious difference. This prerogative, 
 Should Queens endeavour, their unvalued dowries 
 Are not of worth to purchase ; and though here, 
 As it befits me, I observe the distance 
 Due to your birth, yet, in love's sacred Court, 
 My place is high as yours, and there we may 
 Walk hand in hand together. 
 
 Chri. Do not flatter 
 Your fancy with this vain conceit. Vitelli 
 Must be no more your's. Know, I have enjoined 
 The General Doria to engage his friend 
 T' embrace my profler'd love to him. 
 
 Euri. You strive, 
 Because you think my young and timorous flame 
 Unapt t'encounter brave Vitelli's heat, 
 As cunning nurses do with froward babes, 
 Fright them into an appetite ; but say, 
 All this were real, think you, Doria would 
 
24 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 So easily be persuaded to renounce 
 
 His proper interest, and enthral his friend 
 
 To an unwilling slavery ? 
 
 Chri. By truth, he has impawned his honour to endeavour 
 What I have utter'd. Gentle girl, consider 
 Love's unresisted violence, and believe 
 I would not have a rival to usurp 
 A corner in the kingdom of that heart 
 Of which I'm sovereign : so farewell, dear soul ! 
 Consider on't. [exit. 
 
 Euri. Consider on't ! why, this is such an act, 
 Done by a cruel sister, that shall taint 
 That holy name with such a black reproach, 
 That should a thousand pious virgins weep 
 Rivers of tears, their most immaculate drops 
 Would not wash white her scandal. Hapless girl, 
 That in love's tempests wert but lately tost, 
 And now, recovered, in a calm art lost. 
 
 Enter Lactantio. 
 
 Lac. Madam, the Duke intreats your instant company. 
 
 Euri. I shall attend his pleasure : good Lactantio ! 
 If you can meet my cousin Bouivet, 
 Desire him visit me. \eccit. 
 
 Enter Doria. 
 
 Dor. Noble Lactantio, 
 You 're happily encounter'd. I expected 
 My friend Vitelli here : this is his hour ; 
 I wonder he is tardy. 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 25 
 
 Lac. Your lordship prevents the time with speed, or else 
 Vitelli 
 Has some impediment by business. 
 
 Enter Vitelli. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 You're opportunely welcome, to deliver 
 Your own excuse. I was about to stretch 
 My invention for you. 
 
 Fit. Noble friend, your enemy, had you engag'd your faith 
 To any personal meeting, could expect you 
 But at the minute ; reason may dispense, 
 'Twixt us, with such a nicety. 
 
 Lac. Now your friend 's 
 Arriv'd, I must beg licence to depart ; 
 I have some urgent business. 
 
 Dor. Good Lactantio, your time's your own. 
 
 Lac. I kiss your lordship's hand. [exit. 
 
 Fit. Friend, now we're alone, I safely may 
 Speak my conjecture ; I have read your looks, 
 And, in their pensive characters, find secret 
 Strange signs of sadness. 
 
 Dor. I am sad, indeed, 
 When my remembrance tells me I have only 
 Verbal assurance of your friendship. 
 
 Fit. Try me by any attempt, whose danger does surpass 
 The common path of daring ; be't to snatch 
 A fiery bolt, when it from heaven comes wrapped 
 In sheets of lightning, to afford true proof 
 Of my affection, and with eager haste, 
 
26 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Such as inspires a husband to enjoy 
 
 His spouse's virgin purity, I'll run 
 
 To the achievement. 
 
 Dor. These are but protests, 
 
 Such as, begot by ceremony, proceed 
 
 Not from intensive zeal ; yet, TO experience 
 The truth of your affection, by a trial, 
 Of such a noble and effective weight, 
 Which, if you bravely do support, you'll stand 
 As some tall pyramid, or column, for 
 Your own memorial, to tell after-times 
 The power and strength of friendship. 
 
 Fit. Pray, name ? t : 
 An 'twere a burden would oppress the earth, 
 I'll be the able Atlas to sustain 
 Heaven on my willing shoulders. 
 
 Dor. There is a lady, 
 In whose each eye sits fire ; and, on her cheek, 
 Victorious beauty, captive to her smiles, 
 Dances in lovely triumph ; one who emblems 
 The glory of mortality in each look ; 
 Contracts the orb of lustre to a glance ; 
 Brandishes beams, whose purity dispense 
 Light more immaculate than the gorgeous east 
 Wears, when the prostrate Indian does adore 
 Its rising brightness : yet this wonder doats 
 On you, with such inevitable fervour, 
 That I, in pity of her sufferings, come 
 T' entreat you love her. 
 Fit. Whom, my lord? 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 27 
 
 Dor. You cannot appear so strangely stupid, not t' 
 acknowledge 
 Creation's miracle, when I point out 
 Her very figure : you as well may seem, 
 When the bleak north does, with congealing blasts, 
 Bind up the crystal streams in chains of ice, 
 Not to know winter; ignorant of her, 
 Who, had she liv'd when superstitious mists 
 Shaded the world, more groves of gums had flam'd 
 To her divinest beauty, than to all 
 The race of idle deities : 'tis Chrisea, 
 The fair Chrisea, loves you ! 
 
 Vit. The fair Chrisea ? your lordship's merry 
 
 Dor. Do you slight 
 What I deliver'd with that unfeign'd zeal 
 That penitents do their prayers ? I say, Chrisea ; 
 A name whose every accent sweetlier sounds 
 Than choirs of syrens 7 sense-bereaving notes : 
 Chrisea loves you, infinitely above 
 Expressive terms, the orators should strive 
 To paint her masculine fancy ; and I'm bound 
 To pay this homage to her best content, 
 As to conjure you, by all sacred ties 
 Of honour, amity, and what else may serve 
 T* enforce th* endearment, with your noblest love 
 To gratify her fancy. 
 Vit. No persuasion 
 Can make me think this serious. Good, my lord, 
 Do you not love Chrisea ? 
 
 Dor. More than a babe does the kind nurse that feeds it 
 with her blood ; 
 
28 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 More than I do my quiet, or the joys 
 
 Of aught but blest eternity. Vitelli, 
 
 No other argument can more convince 
 
 Suspicion, should it doubt my love, but this — 
 
 That, to procure her peace, I have confin'd 
 
 The greatness of my passion, and give up 
 
 To thy dispose a jewel, which the earth 
 
 And sea, should both unlade their hidden wealth, 
 
 Should not have purchas'd from me. 
 
 Vit. These are arts to puzzle my conceits, my lord. 
 I'm no such puny in the craft of love, 
 That I want brain to find this drift, which is 
 As obvious to me as your eyes ; now you 
 Are home return'd victorious, big with praise, 
 Laden with titles that sit heavier on you 
 Than your steel corslet in hot fight, contemn 
 Affinity with me, to whom you've heard, 
 The fair Eurione has resign'd her heart, 
 And by this circumvention, should I court 
 At your entreaties her sister, might pretend 
 A righteous cause for an unjust revolt ; 
 For were it otherwise, your temper could not 
 Brook your Chrisea's change without a start 
 Into a sudden fury. 
 
 Dor. This language I understand not : by my honour, 
 friend, 
 This iteration may disperse your doubt ; 
 I do again conjure you, by all right 
 Friendship can challenge in you, to affect 
 Chrisea nobly I — Shall I have your answer ? 
 
 Fit. Nay, then, my lord, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 29 
 
 Since you are serious, freely I resume 
 The privilege of my liberty ; this body, 
 I do confess your captive, and 7 t has suffer'd 
 An honourable thraldom, but my mind 
 Remains unbounded as the air or fire 
 Are from their spheres : Eurione has won 
 By the subduing valour of her looks, 
 That in a field of fancy, not of blood : 
 And ere another shall usurp her right, 
 In the defence I'll die her willing martyr. 
 
 Dor. I judg'd what serious value, 
 Your boasted friendship would retain i'the test. 
 Draw your bright weapon ; know, that I do hate 
 Baseness as much as cowardice, and since 
 You slight a lady for whose priceless love 
 Kings might resign their crowns and humbly fall 
 Like bare-foot pilgrims, prostrate at the shrine 
 Of such a beauty ; sure, if in this sword 
 Death has a residence, your life shall find it, 
 And not survive to boast the cruel triumph of her refusal. 
 
 Fit. Sir, your sword cannot excite a trembling in my 
 blood : 
 The glist'ring splendour cherishes my sight 
 Like polish'd crystal : henceforth name of friend 
 Be no more known betwixt us than a dream ! 
 Thus I expire it : — I may now regain 
 My honour forfeited in the general cause, 
 By this particular combat. 
 
 Dor. Should my fate yield me the conquest, yet his death 
 would not 
 
30 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Beget Chrisea's quiet, but augment 
 
 Her grief and hate against me \_aside.~\ : — stay, forbear !- 
 
 I feel a palsy in my veins, and cannot 
 
 Manage this little instrument of death. 
 
 My sinews put on infancy again, 
 
 And have no vigour in them. Oh! Vitelli, 
 
 I am so full of passion, I have scarce 
 
 Room left to vent a sigh : a mine of lead 
 
 Hangs on my heart, and with its weight has crack'd 
 
 The feeble courage. 
 
 Fit. Noble soul ! his grief 
 Works more compunction in me than his sword 
 Did sudden anger \_aside.~\ Could I grant what you 
 Request, no brand-mark'd slave should fulfil 
 Sooner his master's most severe command 
 Than I would yours ; but this abrogates all laws 
 Of friendship's duty. If you've vow'd this act, 
 You may as safely disannul the oath 
 As should you in some desp'rate fury swear 
 To be your father's murderer. 
 
 Dor. Bid me first renounce 
 My allegiance to my honour, sell the faith 
 I owe my native country ; my Vitelli, 
 I feel a humour in my brain which strives 
 For passage at mine eyes : wilt see me weep ? 
 Consider, friend, denying my request, 
 Thou do'st undo a lady who may claim 
 The privilege of all hearts ; — depriv'st the world 
 Of such a gem, that should old nature strive 
 To frame her second, it would quite exhaust 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 31 
 
 Her glorious treasury ; — then in her ruin 
 
 My life and honour's forfeited : think this ; 
 
 And were thy heart obdurate as a rock 
 
 Of adamant, this thought, join'd with my tears; 
 
 Would, sooner than the blood of goats, dissolve it 
 
 To gentle softness. 
 
 Fit. Your eyes are moving advocates; they speak 
 Such an o'er-flowing language, that my love, 
 Then in its own cause a most partial judge, 
 Allows my mercy freedom to pronounce 
 Sentence on your side : you have prevailed ; 
 I'll serve Chrisea as her pleasure shall 
 Dispose my will, and fortune. 
 
 Dor. I begin to feel my spirits quicken, and my blood 
 Receive its noble temper; dear Vitelli ! 
 Thy nobleness do'st prompt thee to an act 
 Shall write thy friendship higher in the lists 
 Of sacred amity, than mothers' loves. 
 Go to my blest Chrisea ; she expects 
 To know by thee the truth of my success ; 
 Tell her, I am more happy in her bliss 
 Than if I had enjoy'd her constant love. 
 So leave me, friend ; I may, perhaps, transgress 
 Manhood again ; and should 'st thou see me weep 
 Twice, thou wouid'st judge my former flood of tears 
 A feigned passion. 
 
 Vit* Your genius guard you ! Thus I apply 
 Balm to his wounds, while I do bleeding die. [exit. 
 
32 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Enter Bon i vet. 
 
 Bon. Noble General, I come to gratulate the happy 
 choice 
 You've made in fair Chrisea ; she's a lady, 
 That, though she were a stranger to my blood, 
 My judgment would allow as rich a virtue 
 As ever glorify'd the sex. 
 
 Dor. 'T would be a sacrilegious error not t' admit 
 Your character for truth ; but, in our loves, 
 A thousand hidden causes do produce 
 Alternate changes; my return has settled 
 My thoughts on new resolves, and I must suit 
 My affections to them. 
 
 Bon. How? Perhaps, because 
 You are return'd triumphant with your bays 
 Growing upon your brow, you do reject 
 The love before you su'd for ; 'tis not noble 
 So to abase a lady whose bright fame, 
 Although untainted as a crystal rock, 
 Must pass a popular censure, if you, who 
 Did with such earnestness pretend her match, 
 Should, on the sudden, scorn it. 
 
 Dor. I'm not bound 
 To give you reasons why ; but know, my mind 
 (Which your contesting cannot alter,) 's fix'd 
 On what I have related. 
 
 Bon. I must then tell you 
 You do defame the opinion of that worth 
 The world does credit in you ; this affront, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 33 
 
 Should all her other friends sit idle gazers 
 On her disgrace, should stir me to attempt 
 An ample satisfaction from your heart, 
 Though you had multitudes of greater glories 
 Heap'd on your head ; or were defenc'd with legions 
 T' affright me from the adventure. 
 
 Dor. Sir, your courage is juster than your quarrel. 
 Do you think 
 
 I wear a sword only for ornament ; 
 And though our years declare us equals, yet 
 My education was i'the trade of war : 
 'Tis my profession to infranchise souls 
 From prisons of their flesh, and would be loath, 
 'Cause you have interest in Chrisea's blood, 
 Your passion should betray you to the fury 
 Of my incensed wrath, 
 
 Bon. All discourse is tedious to me : sure, the world 's 
 abus'd 
 With report of your valour. Men who commit 
 Affronts they dare not answer, use excuse 
 In moderation of them. I expected 
 I should have met an adversary in you, 
 Of temper hot as lightning, and as bold 
 As lions vex'd with hunger; and I find you 
 A tame degenerate coward. 
 
 Dor All respect of love and pity hence ! [they fight. 
 Bear up I my steel 
 
 Has prick'd your breast — I would not have you dye 
 Chrisea's Martyr. 
 
 Bon, I've pull'd untimely ruin on me. I'm hurt, 
 
 D 
 
34 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 I fear, to mortal danger : noble General, 
 See me conducted to Lactantio's house ! 
 There I shall get a surgeon. 
 Dor. Noble young man ! 
 Muster thy strongest spirits up. I am one 
 Of Fortune's pastimes : yesterday, returned, 
 Advanced to heaven by the people's breath ; 
 To day, hurl'd down into the abyss of death. [exeunt. 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 Enter Chrisea and Corimea. 
 
 Chri. Came none yet from the General ? 
 
 Cor. No, insooth, Madam : I protest your sister, 
 If she continue in these sudden fits, 
 Will so undo her face that all my art 
 Can never rectify 't : she weeps as if 
 She might as easily be supplied with eyes 
 As with new dressings. I'll be sworn, I took 
 As hearty pains to cut a handsome heart, 
 (And, though I say't, it was a pretty one 
 As e'er was made of taffety,) to grace her cheek, 
 And, never trust me if I lye to you, 
 Her tears have wash'd her heart away. 
 
 Chri. Thou'rt still 
 In these impertinent discourses. W T hat's the cause 
 My sister is so prodigal of her grief 
 To let thee see her vent it ? 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 35 
 
 Cor. Why, Madam, I have seen a lady weep 
 Besides your sister, and have wept myself too. 
 I never shall forget the time — I could 
 E'en cry again, to think on't : 'twas at the death 
 Of your fine little Jewel ; never lady 
 Nurst such a dainty puppy ; but he's gone, 
 And farewell he I I will not give a rush 
 For any woman cannot use her eyes 
 With as much liberty as her tongue : these fools, 
 These loving idiots, men, for three forc'd drops 
 Will mollify like wax, and be made apt 
 For any impression. 
 
 Enter Vitelli. 
 
 Chri. Vitelli, you are welcome ! I suppose 
 Your business has been urgent. We expected 
 Your presence sooner : howsoever, now 
 ? Tis grateful hither. 
 
 Cor. My young lady shall 
 Have notice of ? s arrival ; so perhaps his sight 
 Will cheer her drooping spirits. 
 
 Fit. Madam, my friend 
 The General does by me tender his best 
 And truest service to you : he has sent me 
 Prompt to fulfil the nicest point of duty 
 Your pleasure casts upon me. 
 
 Chri. Sir, the General is so just in his proceeding, 
 I must ever esteem him truly noble, 
 Though I should banish him my affection. 
 
 Vit. I could wish 
 
36 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 The sweetness of your virtue would vouchsafe 
 To lay a reclamation of your love : 
 Had you but seen with what ambitious haste, 
 With what extreme persuasions, he endeavour'd 
 The satisfaction of your will, you could not 
 Fancy a change from one so worthy. 
 
 Chru No ? not to enjoy yourself? 
 
 Fit. Me—Madam ! 
 No equal eye can parallel my poor 
 Regardless merit with the glorious worth 
 Which does as far transcend mine in desert, 
 As 't does in eminence of fortune. 
 
 Chri. Sir, your modesty 
 Extenuates your own worthiness to bestow 
 A large addition on your friend's : my judgment 
 Has balanc'd both, and has concluded which 
 Ought to be held most noble : I do honour 
 True constancy in men. Pray tell me, Sir, 
 For it concerns me nearly, did you ever 
 Fervently love my sister ? 
 
 Fit. To include 
 All strength of human zeal, as Doria does adore 
 Your excellent beauty ; with a heat 
 Holy as souls in deepest fancy, 
 Their sainted fellows. 
 
 Chri. And can you extinguish 
 So great a name so easily ? Can entreats 
 So soon subdue your temper ? If your truth 
 Be of this wavering quality, how shall I 
 Receive assurance of it ? 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 37 
 
 Fit. The vow 
 I made my friend secures it. Think not, Madam, 
 That both my parents with persuasive prayers 
 Could have enforc'd me violate my faith 
 To fair Eurione ; but when my friend, 
 My honour'd friend, to whom I owe my life 
 As tenant to his bounty, did in tears, 
 A soldier's tears, whose every drop prevails 
 More than a captive princess, plead the loss 
 Of his own life, my gratitude did vanquish 
 Passion, and forc'd me tear even from my soul 
 Eurione's affection. 
 
 Chri. You are just 
 In your determination. 
 
 Enter Eurione. 
 
 Vit. Bless me, friendship ! 
 And with thy white wings overshade my heart ! 
 Or here descends a Saint will dispossess thee 
 Of the accustom'd shrine : a bark enclos'd 
 'Twixt two encount'ring tides is not more toss'd 
 Than I 'twixt striving passions ; while a friend, 
 I cannot be a lover. 
 
 Eur. Vitelli, am I in your opinion lost ? my sister 
 Relates so sad a wonder that, if truth, 
 I am undone for ever. 
 
 Fit. Hark ! she speaks too 
 A tempting language. Such was our first mother's voice 
 While she was innocent : dear ladies, would 
 I could divide myself ; for, being one, 
 
38 , THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 I cannot, on the theatre of my mind, 
 
 Act both a friend and lover. That two names 
 
 Of so intire affinity should occasion 
 
 So manifest a dissension in a soul 
 
 That would be true, yet is enforc'd, though loath, 
 
 To forfeit one or to be false to both ! 
 
 Chri. My expectation did not 
 Presage this softness in you ; I had thought 
 You had come furnished with a full resolve 
 To act your friend's request. 
 
 Fit. Yet I must needs 
 Speak in a cause so moving : Madam, think 
 How much more noble 'tis in you to save 
 Than to destroy ! Behold three bleeding hearts 
 Imploring pity from you ! mine, your sister's, 
 And your adorer Doria's, which one word 
 Of yours would ransom from approaching death. 
 Oh, be not sparing of that breath ! 'twill sound 
 In the just ears of heaven more sweet than prayers 
 Offer'd by cloister'd virgins. O, resume 
 Your native charity, and fulfil my suit ! 
 And in requital of that sacred grant, 
 Time shall depend like summer on your brow, 
 And your whole life be one continued youth : 
 Such were the springs in Paradise, and when 
 You pass to be a sharer in heaven's bliss, 
 Virgins and innocent lovers' spotless tears, 
 Hardened to pearl by the strong heat of sighs, 
 Shall be your monument. 
 
 Chri. This whole discourse, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 3£ 
 
 Should you enlarge it to a volume, cannot 
 
 Alter my meanest thought ; I only wish you, 
 
 As you are noble, to respect your honour ; — 
 
 That's all my answer. [exit. 
 
 Eur. But do you mean, 
 Vitelli, to perform what Doria has enjoin'd you ? 
 
 Fit. I shall melt 
 Into a willing pity, if the flame 
 Of friendship did not, with its effectual heat, 
 Dry up love's moisture. Dear Madam 1 he 
 That has commanded me this dreadful task 
 Claims such a lawful interest in my life, 
 That, spite of my affection, I must yield 
 To his resistless will : yet I will love you 
 So far as honour gives me warrant, and 
 Wish you, the best of women, the best joys 
 Happiness can impart to you. Farewell I 
 'Tis a befitting gratitude to give 
 That life a being by whose gift I live. [exit. 
 
 Eur. Sorrows flow high, grief unto grief succeeds, 
 Wounds are more dangerous which do inward bleed, [exit. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 Enter Adorni and Frangipan. 
 
 Ador. Come, let not this dishearten you ; your French 
 Is a thing easily gotten, and, when you have it, 
 As hard to shake it off, runs in your blood 
 As 'twere your mother language ; but there is 
 
40 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 An observation far more necessary, 
 
 T' improve your judgment; still let your discourse 
 
 Concern the foreign business, and be sure 
 
 T' applaud outlandish fashions and take off from 
 
 What is native ; as if you shall hear 
 
 Any commend the Genoa garb or state, 
 
 Answer in France, in Naples, or in Spain, 
 
 No matter where so it be far enough 
 
 From hence, they are more politic, more witty, 
 
 Every way more deserving; this will speak 
 
 Infinitely judicious, when, to praise 
 
 Our own domestic manners, is as if 
 
 A man should praise himself and be accounted 
 
 A self-conceited gull for't. 
 
 Fran. Very good ! 
 This is a rule 111 put in practice ; I, 
 Thanks to my inclination, can speak ill 
 Of my own Father, Signor. 
 
 Ador. Signor 1 still you betray your ignorance ; why 
 Signor ? 
 Monsieur has a far more airy and harmonious sound; 
 There's music in the letters : still polish your phrase 
 With particles of language, which, 'till I have taught you 
 Perfectly, answer with a shrug or nod, 
 Or any foreign gesture ; such a silence 
 Will be esteemed for gravity, and become you better 
 Than volubility of speech does some 
 Whose tongues are gentlemen-ushers to their wits, 
 Still going before it ; and when you do speak, 
 Let it not be as now you do of news 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 41 
 
 Abroach ten days before, and quite drunk off, 
 
 But what affairs are acted then in France ; 
 
 What in the English Court ; and still remember 
 
 T* extol 'em infinitely ; and if any answer 
 
 Comparatively with our own, a serious laughter 
 
 Will not become you ill, to shew how much 
 
 You slight their error. 
 Fran. Better still; — I like 
 
 This slighting humour infinitely ; — but how, 
 
 If they should talk of our Italian dames ; 
 
 I'm bound to be their Champion, for I've heard 
 
 Strangers report, and I hold their opinion, 
 Our curtesans excel all other nations. 
 
 Ador. That shew'd those strangers' judgments, and con- 
 firmed 
 What I would have you understand : in England, 
 Where public houses are prohibited, 
 There are the bravest lasses ; here, some Donsella 
 That was, the last night, yours, shall, for two ducats, 
 To-morrow be a sailor's; when there, 
 Your citizens' wives, girls fresh as air and wholesome 
 As precious Candy- wines, will meet their gamesters 
 At a convenient tavern, rob their husbands 
 Without a scruple, and supply their friends, 
 While the good innocent cuckolds pay a price 
 For their own horning. 
 
 Fran. Excellent, excellent ! 
 Genoa, I do defy thy costive girls ! 
 Pll, henceforth, love these English sparks of gold ; 
 Would I were there ; it should go hard, but I 
 
42 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Would graft on their Aldermen's cockscombs — 
 
 Ador. They're grafted fast already, Sir ; besides, 
 They ne'er get children, but their hench-boys on 
 Their Serjeants' wives after some city feast, 
 When the provoking spirit of white broth, and 
 Custard, enflames their blood ; what Genoa Burgess 
 Dares be so boldly courag'd ? I'll tell you ; 
 And mark how base and sordid it appears 
 To have our cellars stuff' d with Corsic wines ! 
 Yet, for this foolish sin calFd Temperance, 
 Tantalize and ne'er taste it, while your Dutch, 
 Your noble-spirited German, will carouse 
 A score of goblets to provoke his stomach 
 To 's bread and butter ; do nothing but by discreet 
 Counsel of drink ; not match his daughter to 
 A man he sees not drunk first ; scarce say 's prayers 
 Till he be full of liquor, which enflames 
 The mind to generous actions. 
 
 Fran. I commend 'em, and will be glad to imitate. 
 Ador. Your English 
 Deserves as large applause, who, to say truth, 
 Out-drinks the Dutch ; as, in the common proverb, 
 The Dutchman drinks his buttons off, — the English 
 Doublet and all away. Then mark their carriage : 
 If two fall out, and strike, and be by company 
 Parted, though one wears in his face the badge 
 Of his dishonour, which excites him to 
 As brave revenge, naught daunts him, for he'll straight 
 Call out his enemy to a single duel, 
 Scorning his life, coutemning the land's laws, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 43 
 
 Which do forbid those combats, and ne'er part 
 Till one be slain, and the survivor sure 
 As death to hang for't. 
 
 Fran. Excellent I I love a man that cares not for hang- 
 ing. 
 
 Ador. Then, to their further glory, which takes off 
 All the disgrace of halter, they are sure, 
 'Ere they be scarce cold, to be chronicled 
 In excellent new ballads, which, being sung 
 I'th' streets, 'mong boys and girls, colliers and carmen, 
 Are bought as great memorials of their fames, 
 Which, to perpetuate, they are commonly stuck up 
 With as great triumph in the tippling houses, 
 As they were 'scutcheons. 
 
 Fran. Better yet. I'd give 
 A hundred ducats to be chronicled 
 In such a historical canto. W T ho composes them ? 
 
 Ador. They have their special poets for that purpose ; 
 Such as still drink small beer, and are so apt 
 To spit out lamentable stuff. Then, for their cloathes, 
 They have a cut domestic, but imitate 
 The French precisely : gallants wear their long 
 Parisian breeches with five points at knees, 
 Whose tags concurring with their harmonious spurs, 
 Afford rare music : then have they doublets 
 So short i'th' waist, they seem as 'twere begot 
 Upon their doublets by their cloaks, which, to save stuff, 
 Are but a year's growth longer than their skirts ; 
 And all this magazine of device is furnish'd 
 By your French taylor. What country man is yours ? 
 
44 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE 
 
 Fran. A Genoese. 
 
 Ador. Fie I change him, Monsieur. 
 You have heard a Spanish Count 's 
 
 Lately arriv'd without any advice. How 'd you salute 
 him? 
 
 Fran. Thus, Sir, after our Italian fashion. 
 
 Ador. That's too vulgar : 
 You must accost him thus, with a state face, 
 As if your beard had been turn'd up that morning 
 By advice of all the barbers in the city ; 
 As you had dress'd you in a looking glass, 
 Proper to none but the Duke's privy counsellors ; 
 Pronounce your Beso los manos with a grace 
 As if you were the son and heir apparent 
 To th J Adelantado of Castile. 
 
 Enter Lactantio. 
 
 Lac. Adorni, this is no time for mirth : 
 Your noble General has slain Lord Bonivet, 
 And for the act is a prisoner. 
 
 AdorT Dares the State bereave him of his liberty, 
 Without whose most unwearied valour 
 It had been betray'd to slavery ? 
 
 Lac. You know Lord Bonivet's alliance to the Duke ? 
 
 Ador. Alliance ! death ! a thousand Bonivets 
 And Dukes and States weigh not 
 A scruple, pois'd with his full worth ! 
 
 Lac. He's to be tried i'th* morning, without noise, 
 For fear of mutiny ; and, 'tis suppos'd, 
 That if some virgin lady do not claim 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 45 
 
 Her privilege, and beg- his life, he'll suffer. 
 
 Fran. If the maid that begs must be above fifteen, 'tis 
 shrewdly doubted where she'll be found. 
 
 Ador. All our virgins ought, if they have virtue, to con- 
 tend for such a glory ; but if all be squeamish, may all the 
 daughters of our best burghers run away with soldiers, and 
 become sutlers' wives ! 
 
 Fran. Or else, when they have a masculine itch upon 
 'em, and would taste man, may they be wed to eunuchs ! 
 
 Lac. Else be forc'd to keep their maidenheads till they 
 be musty, and not merchantable to younger brothers, with 
 additions of wealthy portions ! 
 
 Fran. May they, when they would strive to mend their 
 faces to allure a suitor, want paint and black patches, to 
 stop the crannies of their cheeks ! May their pomatum be 
 mix'd with hogs' grease, that they may be abominable 
 even in the nose of Jews ! May the green sickness reign in 
 their bloods : and may they be debarr'd of oat-meal and 
 clay wall, and fall to ratsbane ! 
 
 Ador. May their parents turn most precise precisians, 
 and forbid e'en the sight of plays, or may they never dance, 
 unless it be to a bag-pipe or a crowd ! 
 
 Fran. May they want silks for gowns; and if they seek 
 supply from Naples, let them, instead, be furnish'd with 
 their disease ! may milliners break, and feather-men ! 
 may my aunt die suddenly, and bury with her all her 
 devices i may there be no earth found to make looking 
 glasses, that they come to use of kitchen wenches, dress 
 their heads by the reflection of a pail of water, or in a pew- 
 ter chamber vessel ! 
 
46 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Ador. Lactantio, let's go wait the General 
 In prison ; 't would be base should we neglect him in 
 His extremity. [exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter Doria and Sabelli. 
 
 Dor. Is it confirm'd, he's dead ? 
 
 Sab. The general voice 
 Divulges so i'th' city, and the Duke 
 Has sent an order, which commands you forth 
 I'th' morning to your trial. My dear lord, 
 I hope the service you have done the State 
 Abroad, will, here at home, secure your life 
 From the law's violent rigour. 
 
 Dor. Yes, poor boy, 
 If thou might'st be thy master's judge. Sabelli, 
 I am at the period of my fate, and would not 
 Have thee a sad spectator of my fall 
 At home, whom thou so oft hast waited on, 
 Abroad, in triumph ; therefore, gentle heart, 
 Return home to thy mother, and survive 
 To serve a happier master 
 
 Sab. My noble lord, 
 Have I so often followed you when death 
 Attended on each step, when every hurt 
 That scared your noble body I have wishM 
 Imprinted on my flesh, and with my tears 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 47 
 
 Even drown' d the purple deluge of your wounds, 
 
 That, as my truth and loyalty's reward, 
 
 I must be turn'd away unkindly, when 
 
 My last and justest service might declare 
 
 My zeal to you, my master. Oh, Sir, 
 
 You more afflict my innocence with these words 
 
 Than if sad truth had brought me the report 
 
 Of my own mother's funeral : and should you 
 
 Enforce me leave you, the succeeding care 
 
 And labour of my life should be consumed 
 
 In a perpetual weeping. 
 
 Dor. Good Sabelli ! 
 Cease this afflicting language, lest I grow as 
 Childish as thyself, and burst into tears, 
 To bear thee company. 
 
 Sab. Besides, my lord, a 
 
 When your blest soul does on immortal wings 
 Arrive at heaven, who shall attend it there ? The 
 Saints and angels will esteem themselves 
 Worthy to be your fellows, while my poor 
 And humble ghost would reckon it a bliss 
 To wait on you as carefully as when 
 We liv'd on earth together. Dear my lord, 
 Let me dye with you ; death and I have been 
 Play-fellows these many years, he'll only bring me 
 To rest as pleasing to my sense as sleep 
 After a tedious watching. 
 
 Dor. This kind passion shakes my 
 Most masculine temper. Sabelli, 
 
48 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Accept this gold, these jewels, as the last 
 
 Gift of thy perishing- lord. Thou shalt accept 'em. 
 
 If the law do not pass upon my life 
 
 Fll send for thee again. I pr'ythee, leave me ; 
 
 I would be private ; and thy presence does 
 
 Disturb my serious thoughts. 
 
 Sab. Nay, then, 'tis for 
 Me, the wretched'st soul on earth, to take 
 My lasting farewell of you. All the joys 
 Of blest eternity, instead of my 
 Desertless service, wait upon your life ; 
 You ne'er shall view your boy again; for sure, if your 
 Light be extinguish'd, my weak name 
 Cannot continue burning. Give me licence 
 To kiss your honour'd hand, and to let fall 
 A parting drop or two; — and now, farewell 
 For ever, noble lord ! that grief appears most true 
 That's writ in blood as well as tears. [exit. 
 
 Dor. Poor boy I I have not yet deserv'd so ill, 
 But my untimely fate excites some pity. 
 
 Enter Adorni, Lactantio, and Frangipan. 
 
 Adorni, thou art come to see the last 
 And greatest of thy General's actions, 
 Which, like a cunning and well manag'd scene, 
 Not till the period will disclose the plot 
 Of my life's tragedy. 
 
 Ador. Your life, my lord ! 
 Death dare not venture to invade it ; and 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 49 
 
 The State as soon will call the enemy 
 Into their city, as pretend the least 
 Danger to their supporting column, which, 
 Should it but shake, it might dismantle their 
 Best bulwarks, burn their navy, and surrender 
 Themselves to present slavery. 
 
 Lac. The Duke, 
 Though he did hold his kinsman dear, will value 
 The public good before his private ruin. 
 
 Fran. Let the Duke do his worst, and all the State 
 Stand on punctilios I can fetch a lady 
 Of excellent quality, shall beg your lordship: 
 I'll make her do't. 
 
 Ador. Nay, should all fail you, sir ; 
 Should the State's anger and the Duke's partial sentence, 
 The peoples' malice bandy to surprise 
 The treasure of your life, know, you have friends 
 Would fix the heads of half the town upon 
 Their lances' points, 'ere your least drop of blood 
 Should be diminished. 
 
 Dor. Gentlemen, I thank you [for] 
 All your loves ; but know, the shape of death 
 Is not [so] ugly to me, but if justice 
 Contract me to the monster, I shall court it 
 As 'twere some beauteous bride, and thank the axe, 
 That, like the priest, unites me to a spouse 
 That will not play the woman, and revolt. 
 Come, gentlemen, let's in : brave souls do hate 
 To be dejected by the force of fate. \eoceunt. 
 
50 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 ACT IV. SCENE I. 
 Enter Chrisea, Eurione, and Vitelli. 
 
 Chri. I am very sorry that his fate has cast 
 Such a disastrous chance upon his life ; 
 But his desert will blunt the edge of justice, 
 And mitigate the severity which would 
 Question the safety of his life. 
 
 Fit. 'Tis in your mercy 
 To dash the law's proceedings, gracious madam ! 
 The privilege that our country gives your sex 
 Can hope for no employment that will raise 
 A greater trophy to your fame than this, — 
 To ransom him whose constancy and truth 
 Exceeds all boast of stories. 
 
 Eur. You'll redeem 
 The opinion of your piety, which scandal, 
 Should you omit this just and righteous task, 
 Would blast with blackest infamy. 
 
 Chri. You plead in your own cause, not his. 'T does 
 not beseem 
 My modesty to interpose myself 
 In that which nought concerns me. 
 
 Vit. Is his life 
 Of such a trivial value in your thoughts, 
 That you esteem't not worthy your intreats 
 To save't from killing ruin ? Sacred love ! 
 Thou miracle of nature, and delight 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 51 
 
 Of all who know humanity, with some 
 Religious arrow pierce her flinty breast I 
 Some pious shaft, on whose subduing point 
 Pity and amorous softness gently sit, 
 Reduce this straying schismatic to the first 
 Unspotted pureness of her constant faith, 
 And we will pay a thousand clouds of sighs 
 As incense to thy altars. 
 
 Eur. Offer up 
 Myriads of virgin vows, and, with our tears, 
 Extinguish all irregular flames that taint 
 Thy holy fires ! 
 
 Fit. Oh, Madam ! 
 What heart so barbarous does not, at love's smiles, 
 Put off its native fierceness : beasts with beasts 
 Observe his laws ; the lion, whose big breath 
 Affrights the trembling people of the woods, 
 Were his hoarse accents to be understood, 
 They would appear to be affection's groans. 
 The nightingale, that on lascivious wings 
 Flies from the poplar to the trembling beech, 
 And on each bough chaunts melancholy notes, 
 Had he a human utterance, would proclaim 
 Those pensive strains the music of his love. 
 And can ye be less sensible of a power, 
 That is so great, than creatures barr'd the use 
 Of sacred reason and discourse ? 
 
 Chri. This is to seek to pacify the sea 
 With tears. Vitelli, you mistake ; your friend 
 Values not at so dear a rate his life 
 
52 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 As to receive a being tributary 
 
 To my unask'd intreats : besides, I should 
 
 Envy the State's prerogative, whose mercy 
 
 Is, in remitting his unwilling fault, 
 
 But a becoming thankfulness ; and should 
 
 Be censur'd as too partial to my own 
 
 Affection, should I strive to be his wife, 
 
 Whose hand is purpled with the innocent blood 
 
 Of my late murder'd kinsman. 
 
 Eur. This concerns 
 As nearly me as you, but by just truth, 
 Though I'm engaged by my particular choice 
 To my Vitelli, were I sure the General 
 Would not contemn my offer, and so blast 
 My future fame, I would disclaim all ties 
 Of former fancy and implore his safety. 
 
 Vit. This is a sweetness 
 Which I could wish you. What has begot 
 This strange desertion of your faith ? True love, 
 Being once reeeiv'd into the soul, converts 
 Into its very essence, — does become 
 The same eternal substance ;— can you, then, 
 Tear from the tender cabinet of your breast 
 Your very heart ? This cruelty exceeds 
 The depth of tyranny : but rest assur'd, 
 If Doria suffer by your proud contempt 
 I'm freed then from my promise, and will sooner 
 Warm an empoisoning scorpion in my arms 
 Than yield my meanest thought to you, who are, 
 By evident circumstance, though not by fact, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 53 
 
 My friend the General's murd'ress. 
 
 Ckri. This, Vitelli, 
 Is not a means to win me to your friend, 
 But more avert me from him : it inflames 
 My mind with holier fire to court your love. 
 There is an evident beauty in your soul, 
 Equal to truest honour. I will cherish 
 This bravery in you. If your masculine fancy 
 Engages you thus constant to a friend, 
 You'll be a loyal husband Fare you well ! 
 Be still thus noble, and be happy ! \exit. 
 
 Eur. My sister 
 Has lost all sense of pity. Dear Vitelli ! 
 There is no wretchedness oppressing earth 
 Equal to ours. Love thus the tyrant plays, 
 Afflicting innocence by unusual ways. [exeunt- 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Enter Doria, as a prisoner, Lactantio, and Adorni,- to them, 
 Trivulci, Senators, Officers, and Attendants. 
 
 Ador. Tis like yourself, my noble lord ; but see, 
 The Duke approaching. Let your soul expect 
 An equal hearing. 
 
 Offi. Bear back ! room for the Duke and Senate ! What 
 cuckold 7 s that would have his coxcomb broke ? bear back 
 there ! 
 
 Triv. Cite in the prisoner ! 
 
 Offi, He's here, my lord. 
 
54 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Tri. Pm sorry that 
 You, for whose head the gratitude of the State 
 Decreed triumphant bays, should be enforc'd 
 To stand here a delinquent ; but the law 
 Must, as a straight and uncorrupted stream, 
 Enjoy its usual freedom. My lords, 
 We are not met here to arraign a prisoner 
 Whose guilt does speak his sentence, but a person, 
 Not only most unblemish'd in his fame, 
 But one to whom our country owes its life ; 
 Who, with his dearest blood, has balm'd the wounds 
 Which mischief's giant-offspring, razing war, 
 Cut in the bosom of the common-wealth. 
 
 Sen. We all confess his worth. 
 
 Tri. Yet this brave youth — 
 This patron of our liberty ; all his honours, 
 His blood and titles, his defensive bays, 
 That would have guarded his victorious front 
 From blasts of lightning, laid aside ; is come 
 To tender satisfaction to the laws 
 He has offended ; and since judgment is 
 Th' immediate act of justice, it must pass, 
 To save impartial censure, on his life, 
 As on the wretch'dst malefactor's ; for 
 His former merits cannot take away 
 His present fault ; for whoe'er is guilty 
 Undoes the privilege of his desert and blood. 
 For if great men, offending, pass unpunished, 
 The common people, who do use to sin 
 By their example, fearless will run on 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 55 
 
 Into licentious wickedness. 
 
 Sen. Your grace delivers 
 The intention of the State ; no oracle 
 Could have explain'd the meaning of our laws 
 With more integrity. 
 
 Tru Yet, my good lords, 
 I speak not this, that my particular vengeance, 
 Because he slew my kinsman, has the least 
 Aim at his life, which I would strive to cherish, 
 As my own health, or as the city's peace ; 
 For magistrates ought to behold their crimes, 
 Not the committers, as the poets feign, 
 Of wise Tiresias, to want eyes and only 
 Have seeing understanding; for a judge 
 Is guilty of the fault he does not punish. 
 A nd if reward and triumphs do adorn 
 Deserts, 'tis just that shame and punishments 
 Should wait on vices ; and, how much more worthy 
 The person is, that acts them, so far sharper 
 Should be the penalty inflicted on him. 
 
 Sen. And when the law 
 Uses its utmost rigour, 'tis the crime 
 And not the man it sentences. 
 
 Tri. In brief, 
 We must decline his merit and forget 
 Our gratitude : and since his hand is dipt 
 In civil blood, his life must expiate what 
 His arm unfortunately committed. 
 
 Dor. My lords, 
 The services which I have done the State 
 
56 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Were but my natural duty ; I atchieved 'em 
 To gain me fame and glory, and you safety ; and 
 Should esteem them traitors to honour, if their interces- 
 sion 
 Be a protection for my crimes : I mean not 
 To plead to save a dis-respected life, 
 'Cause I fear death : a sea-incompass'd rock 
 Is not less timorous of th' assaulting waves, 
 Than I of the grim monster; but there is 
 A fame surviving which I would be loath 
 Should tell posterity I tamely yiedled 
 My head to the axe, and died, because my spirit 
 Durst not desire to live : to quit this scandal, 
 I hope, what I can urge in my defence 
 Shall have indifferent hearing. 
 Tri. Speak freely, 
 Dor. Know then, my intention 
 Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact, 
 Which I confess most horrid, and would pay 
 A thousand showers of sorrow could this hand 
 Re-edify that goodly frame of flesh 
 Which it demolish'd ; but my priceless fame, 
 In whose dear cause, I slew him, will to justice 
 Boldly proclaim, I did no more than what, 
 The truth I owe my reputation tells me, 
 Was right in point of honour. 
 
 Tri. But the law 
 Does disallow it, as unjust, and that 
 Must be your judge ; and not that idle breath 
 Which you abusively term honour. 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 57 
 
 Dor. Your laws cannot, without partiality, pronounce 
 Judgment against me, for they do acquit 
 That man of guilt that, to defend his life, 
 Is forc'd to slay his enemy ; my act 
 Carries the same condition : since my fame, 
 Whose safety urg'd me to kill him, is my life, 
 My immortal life, as far transcending this 
 As the soul does the body; for the sword 
 Returns that to its primitive matter, dust ; 
 And there it rests, forgotten ; but a wound 
 Struck upon reputation leaves a brand, 
 (So self-diffusive is dishonour's guilt,) 
 Even to posterity, and does revive 
 After 9 t has suffer' d martyrdom. - : 
 
 Sen. Yet, this 
 Cannot excuse your fact ; for civil reason 
 Allows a reparation for the loss 
 Of fame, but gives no man a lawful licence 
 
 To snatch the privilege from the hands of justice, 
 
 Which would dispose it equally. 
 Do?*. This strictness destroys all 
 
 Right of manhood, since a coward 
 
 May, fearlessly relying on this suffrage 
 
 Of law, affront even valour's self : consider 
 
 That the most cunning pilot cannot steer man's 
 
 Brittle vessel ^twixt these dangerous rocks 
 
 Of law and honour safely ; sail by this, 
 
 But on that suffer shipwreck : for, suppose 
 
 I had with patience borne this scandalous name 
 
 Of a degenerate coward, I not only had 
 
58 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Nipp'd the budding valour of my youth, 
 
 As with a killing frost, but left a shame inherent 
 
 To our family ; disgraced 
 
 My noble father's memory ; defamed, 
 
 Nay, cowarded my ancestors, whose dust 
 
 Would have broke through the marble, to revenge 
 
 On me this fatal infamy. 
 
 Ador. Well urg'd; and resolutely. 
 
 Dor. Nay, more : yourselves, 
 That hate the deed being done, would have detested 
 The doer worse had it not been performed ; 
 Withdrawn my charge in the army, as from one, 
 Protested for a coward ; I might then 
 Have abjur'd the trade of war, in which I have been 
 
 nurs'd. 
 Yet, for preserving this unvalued gem 
 Of precious honour, that hangs on my soul 
 Like a well-polish'd jewel in the ear 
 Of the exactest beauty, must I suffer 
 The laws' stern rigour. 
 
 Tri. Sir, I could refute, 
 With circumstance, your wrong opinion ; but, in brief, 
 Religious conscience utterly disclaims 
 An act so barbarous : to take man's life 
 Is to destroy Heaven's image ; and if those 
 Are held as traitors, and the law inflicts 
 Severest tortures on them who deface 
 The stamps of princes on their coin, can they appear 
 As guiltless, whose rude hands disgrace 
 The great Creator's image, and commit 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 59 
 
 Treason 'gainst awful Nature. Oh ! my lord, 
 Collect your serious temper, and put off 
 The over-weaning fantasies of youth ; 
 Consider what a vain deluding breath 
 Is reputation, if comparM with life : 
 Think, that an idle or detracting word 
 May, by a fair submission, which our laws 
 Of honour do require and will enforce, 
 Be wash'd away ; but the red guilt of blood 
 Sticks, as a black infection, to the soul, 
 That, like an ^Ethiop, cannot be wash'd white : 
 Think upon this, and know, I must, with grief, 
 Pronounce your fatal sentence. 
 
 A shout within. Enter Corimba and Frangipan. 
 
 Fran. Do you hear, General ? I'll tell you news : you 
 were in jeopardy to have had your little weason slit, but I 
 pronounce the happy word ; be safe ! 
 This piece of beauty, 
 By my persuasions, does intend to take 
 The edge of law off, and become your wife 
 True and inseparable. 
 
 Cor. With reverence to this presence, my good lords, 
 Know, that I come not urg'd by heat of youth. 
 
 Fran. Tis true ; I'll bear her witness. 
 
 Cor. Or any wanton or unchaste desire, 
 To beg this gentleman for my husband; neither 
 To raise myself a fortune by the match ; 
 But, mov'd in charity, and provokM in mind, 
 With pity, to behold a man so proper, 
 
60 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Brought to an end untimely, by a death 
 So scandalous to honour as the axe, 
 I come to crave our privilege, and desire him 
 For my most lawful husband. 
 
 Tri. Gentle maid, 
 Your piety does prompt you to an act 
 That shall engage your country to erect 
 A statue to your memory. Though I could not 
 Dispense with justice, yet, since there's a means 
 Without the law's infringement, to preserve him, 
 I do rejoice as much as if my son 
 Had scap'd apparert danger: go on, and prosper 
 In your design. 
 
 Dor. Do you think, because I pleaded 
 For my honour's life, 
 I doat so much upon this idle breath 
 As to preserve 't with infamy ? Dispose 
 This womanish privilege to submissive slaves 1 
 Know, that I hate a being that depends 
 Upon another's bounty more than death, 
 At which my soul does, like an eagle, stretch its 
 Silver wings, and, o'er the monster's head, 
 Will make flight at heaven : pray, sir, proceed 
 To judgment suddenly; delay begets 
 More tortures in me than your sentence. 
 
 Cor. What do you mean, sir ? pray, let me under- 
 stand you better : look upon me ; I am no woman to be 
 slighted 
 
 Fran. She's not asham'd to shew her face ; marry her, 
 uncle, that I may call you so. 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 61 
 
 Sen. To wed this figure, is a far greater punishment than 
 Death. 
 
 Ador. Ne'er stand on terms, but marry her, and free your- 
 self : and trust to me, you shall not want a mistress that 
 has better colours in her face. 
 
 Dor. Corimba, 
 I'm much engag'd to your officious haste, 
 And pay you many thanks : conceive not that 
 I do contemn your person, or dislike 
 The meanness of your match ; for were your beauty 
 Created for a miracle, and adorn M 
 With the addition of a fortune ampler 
 Than that perfection, I should crave a licence 
 To tell your modesty, I am prepared 
 Rather for death than nuptials ; and no strength 
 Of prayers and beauty shall have power to tempt me 
 From my nVd resolution. 
 
 Trl This is madness, not courage, Doria. 
 
 Cor. Sir, I must tell you, you know not how to use a 
 woman rightly: 
 Perhaps 'tis bashfulness ; take courage, sir : 
 I have reserved my dear virginity 
 This fifty years for such a pious purpose, 
 And should you slight me now I should forswear 
 Good purposes hereafter. Gentlemen, persuade him : 
 Sure he cannot chuse but melt 
 At your entreaties. 
 
 Trl. Will you then pull your ruin on, that seeks 
 Thus easily to fly from you ? Justice calls 
 
62 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 On me to give your sentence : — 
 
 Recorders; — enter Vitelli, and Sabelli as a Lady, Virgins, fyc. 
 
 new interruptions ! 
 It is the voice of music, and presages 
 An omen as harmonious as its notes. 
 Approach, fair troop of Virgins ! here's a subject 
 Fit for your maiden pity. 
 
 Cor. Tis time for me to take my farewell : these may be 
 beauties ; perhaps my lady may be one. Adieu, sir ; you 
 may be offer'd worse. [ex. Corimba and Frangipan* 
 
 Sab. My honour'd lord, 
 The charity I owe my native country, 
 That, in the ruin of this brave young man, 
 Would suffer infinitely, has forc'd us strive, 
 With early zeal, first to present our duties 
 For his redemption, 'mong ten thousand virgins 
 That would attempt it ; and my true affection 
 Has won this favour from my fellows, that 
 To me they yield their interest, which I claim 
 As my desir'd prerogative. 
 
 Tri. 'Tis an act the State will thank you for : unveil 
 yourself, 
 That we may know to whom we owe our gratitude. 
 A most excelling beauty ! such an eye 
 Would tempt religious coldness to a flame, 
 Thaw age's chilly frost : at such a cheek, 
 The Spring might take a pattern to create 
 A most accomplish'd freshness; in her looks 
 Are modest signs of innocence, such as saints 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 63 
 
 Wear in their liveliest counterfeits. Doria, hear — 
 A lady begs you ; whom, if you refuse, 
 The times would black you with the hateful title 
 Of your own wilful murd v rer : take her to you, 
 And live a fortunate husband. 
 
 Dor. Noble maid ! my misery is so extreme a sin, 
 It cannot meet your bounty without breach 
 Of vows, which, should I violate, would pull 
 Eternal torments on me : keep your beauty 
 For one whose soul, free as the air he breathes, 
 Can yield a mutual fancy to your flame, 
 And not destroy his honour for your goodness ; 
 Since my expirM date cannot yield you thanks 
 Worthy the boundless merit of your love, 
 If there can be a gratitude after death 
 Expressed by prayers, my soul in heav'n shall pay it 
 To your kind charity. 
 
 Sab. O, my lord! 
 I did expect this answer ; my poor worth 
 Cannot deserve your value ; yet there is 
 A constant purity in my thoughts, that intend you 
 So much of bliss, that had your safety no 
 Dependence on my suit, it would be deem'd 
 Most cruel to contemn me. I have lovM you 
 These many years ; wish'd you as many glories 
 As I have numbered days ; have vow'd I never 
 Will marry any man but your blest self, my lord : 
 Should you neglect the justness of my request, 
 Besides the danger waiting on your life, 
 A thousand virgins, whose unspotted prayers, 
 
64 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Like hosts of guardian angels, would have borne 
 You on their wings to heaven, will, for my sake, 
 Convert their zeal to curses, and, in tears 
 Of anguish, drown your memory. 
 
 Fit. Why, friend, this is 
 Such an o'er-weening passion as does question 
 The soundness of your judgment, fills the world 
 With a conceit you die, because your fears 
 Dare not accept of life. Besides, your mistress, 
 To whom you would so strictly keep your faith, 
 Does so much scorn your constancy, that no 
 Entreats could move her pity undertake 
 This honourable employment 
 
 Tri. Do it with speedy diligence. 
 
 Dor. Her causeless frailty 
 Shall more confirm my truth. 
 My noble lord, pronounce 
 My happy sentence ; 'twill be welcome to me 
 
 Enter Priest and Executioner. 
 
 As charming harmony, and swell my breast 
 With more than human pleasure. 
 Tri Are you come ? approach : 
 Behold this executioner, and this priest ! 
 This is to wed you to destruction — that, 
 To this rich mine of purity ; your choice 
 May accept either. If you fix on this, 
 Besides your own redemption, you enjoy 
 A lady who may claim as many hearts 
 As she has virtuous thoughts ; but lean to that, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 65 
 
 Your spring returns unpitied to the rude 
 Arms of perpetual winter, that will freeze you 
 To a ne'er-melting icicle : be sudden, 
 And wise, in your election. 
 
 Dor. 'Tis but vain : a saint may sooner be o'ercome to 
 sell 
 His native piety. Come, thou grim man ; 
 Thou art to me more lovely than the face of perfect 
 Beauty. Do thy office ; it will free me 
 From these perplexities. 
 
 Sab. Well, my lord, 
 Since I'm unworthy to enjoy in life 
 Your fair society, my soul shall haste 
 To wait on you to death ; there is no bliss 
 Without your presence : since you will not have 
 Mercy on your own life, by your example 
 I'll be as harsh to mine. Ill go 
 Before you to the other world, 
 And be your lov'd ghost's harbinger. 
 
 [Sabelli attempts to stab himself. 
 
 Tri. Hold, hold the lady! 
 
 Sab. Let no hand presume to seize me ; 
 For the meanest touch that shall 
 Endeavour to prevent my will, 
 Shall urge my speedier ruin. Good, my lord, 
 Shall I have answer? I would fain be going 
 On my long journey. 
 
 Dor. Fm confounded 
 In my imagination. I must yield. 
 You have enforc'd a benefit upon me, I 
 
 F 
 
66 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Can hardly thank you for : yet I will try 
 To love you as my wife. — That I were lost 
 In clouds of black forgetfulness ! 
 
 Tri. My'lord, 
 Your pardon's seal'd as soon as by the priest 
 You are conjoin'd in marriage : 
 I'll not leave you 
 
 Till 't be solemniz'd. Hymen, light thy pine ; 
 Death's tapers fade at the clear flame of thine ! [exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE I. 
 
 Enter Trivulci, Doria, Sabelli, Adorn i, Priest, cu\d 
 Virgins. 
 
 Tri. Is the priest prepar'd 
 For his hymn after nuptials, and the virgins 
 Ready to gratulate the bride and bridegroom 
 With the appointed dance? 
 
 Ador. The priest, I think, 
 Has the song perfect ; but it is a question 
 Among the wisest, whether in the city 
 There be seven virgins to be found, to furnish 
 The dance as 7 t should be ; but you must accept them 
 With all their faults. This music speaks their entrance. 
 
 Recorders. — Enter Virgins. 
 
 Song. 
 Triumph appear ! Hymen invites 
 Thee to wait upon his feast : 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 67 
 
 Mix thy joys with his delights, 
 'Tis the General is chief guest. 
 Bid the drum not leave to teach 
 The soldier's fainting heart to beat : 
 Nor war's loud music, cannon, cease 
 Breasts with deathful fire to heat. 
 
 Thy waving ensigns in the air display ! 
 
 The General lives, 'tis triumph's holiday I 
 Come, bright virtues, that reside 
 In heav'n as in your proper sphere : 
 Though all contain'd in the fair bride, 
 Chastity, do thou first appear 
 With Temperance and innocent Grace ! 
 Rose-colour'd Modesty and Truth 
 Dance harmless measures in this place, 
 With health and a perpetual youth, 
 
 And all your virgin trophies bring away 
 
 To grace these nuptials ! Triumph's holiday ! 
 
 A dance. 
 
 Tri. You have our hearty thanks, and we shall study 
 To give you fair requital. Come, my lord ! 
 Erect your drowsy spirits ; let your soul 
 Dance airy measures in your jocund breast. 
 This is a day on which each bridegroom ought 
 To wear no earth about him : air and fire 
 Are Hymen's proper elements. Your mirth 
 Ought to infuse into your frolic guests 
 An humour apt for revelling and sport ; 
 Your disposition is more dull than if 
 You were to be chief mourner at a corpse : 
 
63 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 For shame ! shake off this sadness ! 
 
 Ador. It becomes you, to say truth, scurvily. 
 I do not like it : 
 
 You look as if you'd lost some victory, 
 Of which your hope had an assurance. 
 Shall I tell your lordship 
 A very pleasant story? 
 
 Enter Vitelli. 
 
 Dor. It must be, if it be delightful to me, a discourse 
 Of some quick means to free me from this cruel 
 Oppressive weight of flesh, which does entomb 
 My martyr' d soul, that, like to sulphury fire, 
 Hid in a mountain's entrails, strives to burst 
 The prison, and fly upwards. It must needs 
 Be a sad wedding, when the bridegroom wears 
 His nuptial livery on his eyes, in tears. 
 
 Fit. Friend, this is 
 A passion too effeminate for a heart 
 Endued with manly courage : things past help 
 Should be past thought : your sadness casts a cloud 
 Upon the lustre of this lady's looks ; 
 You make her dim the brightness of her eyes 
 With unbecoming tears, if you continue 
 This strange distraction. 
 
 Sab. Alas, my lord ! 
 Let me participate your cause of sorrow, 
 And be a willing partner in your grief, 
 Which, like a violent current that o'erflows 
 The neighbouring fields and meadows in its rage, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 69 
 
 Into two streams divided, smoothly runs, 
 Kissing, with calm lips, the imprisoning banks, 
 Would, though too mighty for you, when my soul 
 Should vent a part of it, be mild, and pass 
 Away without disturbance of your peace ; 
 Which, to procure, I would even burst my heart, 
 With sighs devoted to your quiet, and 
 Become a loving fountain by my tears 
 I shed without intermission. 
 
 Dor. Gentle lady, 
 I am at such an enmity with fate 
 Makes me incapable of ought but grief ; 
 But I shall study to declare how much 
 I am indebted to your care. 
 
 Enter Eurione, Chrisea, Corimba, and Lactantio. 
 
 Good heaven ! 
 Send down some angel to protect my heart, 
 Or my religion will scarce stay my hand 
 For acting wilful violence on my life ! 
 I have suck'd poison from her eyes, that will, 
 Like to juice of hemlock, drown my soul 
 In a forgetful lethargy, or oppress 
 My temperate faculties with madness. 
 
 Tri. Cousin, you're welcome ! Know this virtuous lady 
 Who has redeem'd the General. 
 
 Chri. Sir, Pm come to gratulate your beauteous bride, 
 And wish you joys immortal. 
 
 Sab. I hope, madam, my innocence has giv'n you no 
 offence, 
 
70 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 That you refuse me, being a stranger to you, 
 The ceremonious wishes which pertain 
 To new-made brides, and only do confer them 
 Upon my lord. 
 
 Chri. Your happiness already 
 Is so superlative, 1 cannot think 
 A new addition to it. You enjoy 
 The very sum of fortune, in your match 
 To such a noble and illustrious husband ; — 
 I no longer can hold my passion in; 
 These walls of flesh are not of 
 Strength sufficient to contain 
 My big swoln heart. My lords, behold a creature 
 So infinitely wetched, I deserve not 
 The meanest show of pity, who have, like 
 A silly merchant, trifled away a gem, 
 The darling of the quarry, lost a love 
 By my too foolish niceness, to regain 
 Whose forfeiture I would lay down my life : 
 But he is gone for ever, and I left 
 A piteous spectacle for the reproach 
 And scorn of wiser women. 
 
 Eur. Is this possible? 
 Was all her passion to Vitelli feign'd ? 
 My hopes recover life again. 
 
 TrL Why, Chrisea, 
 Whence springs this passionate fury ? 
 
 Chri. Oh ! my lord, 
 When you shall hear it, you will sigh for me, 
 And shed a charitable tear, at thought 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. /I 
 
 Of my unkind disaster: Sir, \_To Doria.] my justice 
 
 Cannot accuse your constancy, which stood, 
 
 In the first trial of your love, as fast 
 
 And spotless as an alabaster rock, 
 
 That had it but persisted in that height 
 
 Of honourable loyalty, your glory 
 
 Had been advanc'd to heaven as the fix'd star 
 
 To guide all lovers through the rough 
 
 Seas of affection. 
 
 Fit. This taxation 
 Cannot be just from you, who did enforce 
 The sad revolt upon him. 
 
 Dor. Is there in heaven no friendly 
 Bolt left, that will strike this frame into 
 The centre, and set free a wretch 
 So overgrown with misery from life, 
 That death would be a comfort above health, 
 Or any worldly blessing. May time blot my name out 
 Of his book, that such a prodigy 
 May not affright succession, nor strike, 
 Like an overspreading leprosy, upon 
 The beauteous face of manhood ! 
 
 Chri. Oh, my lord ! each grief of which 
 You're sensible, is mine, and not your 
 Torment : every sigh you breathe is an 
 Afflicting motion, expired by my vex'd 
 Spirit ; and if you could weep, each drop 
 Would be my blood, who am the spring 
 Of the whole flood of sorrow. O forgive 
 The two exceeding honour of my love ! I would 
 
72 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE, 
 
 Have had you for your perfect truth so glorious, 
 Your loyalty should not, for 
 Preservation of your fame, have needed 
 To adopt a statue for its heir, or builded a 
 Monumental pyramid — but love 
 Is oft-times love's undoing. 
 
 Tru This is such a cunning labyrinth of 
 Sorrow, that no clew can lead them out of. 
 
 Dor. It would be 
 A great affront to misery, should there live 
 A person half so wretched to out-dare 
 The strength of my affliction. Methinks, 
 I'm like some aged mountain, that has stood, 
 In the sea's watery bosom, thousand shocks 
 Of threat'ning tempests ; yet, by the flattering waves, 
 That cling and curl about his stony limbs, 
 Is undermined and ruin'd. I have 'scap'd 
 War's killing dangers, and, by peaceful love, 
 Suffer a strange subversion. Oh, Chrisea 1 
 While I have reason left that can distinguish 
 Things with a cool and undistracted sense, 
 Let's argue mildly th' unhappy cause 
 Of our undoing. 
 
 Eur. Truly, sister, 
 'Twas a suspicious rashness I could wish 
 You never had attempted. 
 
 Chri. My lord, 
 Human condition always censures things 
 By their event : my aims have had success 
 So strangely hapless, that will blast the truth 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Of their intention's purity ; I never 
 
 Harbour'd the least suspicion of your faith, 
 
 Which I did strive to perfect by the test, 
 
 As richest gold refin'd and purg'd 
 
 From dross of other baser metals ; and besides 
 
 The trial of your constancy, I meant 
 
 To sound Vitelli's depth, upon whose love 
 
 My sister doted so, that I was loth 
 
 To see her cast the treasure of her heart 
 
 Upon a stranger, of whose constancy 
 
 She had too small assurance. 
 
 Tri. Gentle cousin, 
 Your good intents encountered bad success ; 
 But I admire, since you must needs have notice 
 Of his disaster, that the law would pass 
 Upon his life, you did not, to prevent 
 All other virgin intercessors, haste 
 To pay the early tribute of your love. 
 
 Chri. My wretched fate, 
 With a too quick prevention, has o'erthrown 
 The justness of my purpose. 
 I relied so much upon his nobleness ; I thought 
 The ugly horror of a thousand deaths 
 Could not have mov'd his temper $ and besides, 
 Knowing his mighty courage, I permitted 
 The law proceed upon him, that, hereafter, 
 He might be sure no merit can appease 
 Offended justice ; otherwise I could 
 Easily have stopped this mischief. 
 
 Tri. How, Chrisea? I understand you not. 
 
 73 
 
7 A THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Chri. Lady, to quit all scruple that I do wish 
 Yours and your lord's succeeding happiness, I'll offer 
 Something as an oblation that shall add 
 Peace to your nuptial garland ; see, my lord, 
 My cousin Bonivet lives ! 
 
 Enter Bonivet. 
 
 Tri. Lives ! Lactantio, did not you inform us 
 That he was dead, and you had caus'd his body 
 To be prepar'd for funeral ? which occasioned 
 The General's sudden trial, because, our custom 
 Does not permit the corpse to be entombed 
 Before the murderer have his sentence. Sir, you shall know 
 What 'tis to mock the State thus. 
 
 Lac. Good, my lord, 
 Hear but my just excuse ! I am so much the fair 
 Chrisea's beauty's [servant] ; by such ties, 
 Oblig'd to serve her, that I chose to hazard 
 The anger of the State, 'ere her displeasure ; 
 And do submit me to your gracious censure. 
 
 Chri. I must connrm't. 
 Sir ! it was I who caus'd him to conceal 
 My cousin Bonivet, for the causes which 
 I did declare before ; and now, myself 
 Having receiv'd a satisfying proof 
 Of his affection, came resolv'd to clear 
 These misty errors, but my cruel fate 
 Has, like a sudden storm, which has beat down 
 A goodly field of standing corn, even ripe 
 For the laborious sickle, crush'd my hopes, 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 75 
 
 In one sad minute, into nothing. 
 
 Sab. My lord, I owe 
 Such an obedient duty to your peace, 
 That, though my heart does wish to wait on yours 
 For ever, since I see betwixt this lady 
 And you such firm appearances of love, 
 If the law please to allow it, I resign 
 My interest to her, and be fortunate 
 To see you two live happy. 
 
 Fit. Since the marriage 
 Has not arriv'd to consummating act, 
 I do believe this may be done. 
 
 Tri. Do not delude 
 Your favour with vain hopes ; the law cannot 
 Dispense with the strict canon; 'tis impossible 
 You should be separated ! 
 
 Dor. This happiness 
 Was too extremely good to be confirm'd 
 To such a wretch as I am : I am like 
 One that did dream of a huge mass of wealth, 
 And catching at it, grasp'd the fleeting air, 
 And, waking, grieves at the delusion. 
 
 Sab. Sir, resume your antient quiet ; the formal 
 Love shall not oppose your peace. I'll disannul 
 The marriage easily ; and, most noble lord, 
 Pardon your humble servant ! 
 
 \Sabelli throws off his disguise. 
 
 Dor. Sure, this is 
 Some apparition to confirm my faith ! 
 Speak ! art thou my Sabelli ? 
 
76 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 Fit. Yes, tis he ; fate would not suffer two such 
 Noble souls to be so disunited. Gentle boy ! 
 Thy duty to thy master will continue 
 Thy name in story as the great example 
 Of loyalty in servants. 
 
 Sab. Twas the zeal I ought in duty to my master's life 
 Hath put me on the attempt ; which, if he pardon, 
 I'm fully satisfied. 
 
 Dor. My joys do with a sudden extacy oppress 
 My frail mortality, and I should sink, 
 Wer't not for my supporters. My Sabelli, 
 Thou hast restor'd two lovers to their bliss, 
 Whose gratitude shall pay to thy desert 
 The tribute of their hearts. Dear madam, now 
 I hope your scrupulous doubts will remain free 
 From any new suspicion. 
 
 Chri. Since I have 'scap'd the danger past, believe [it], 
 Pll avoid 
 The like hereafter. My lord, please you confirm 
 My choice, and let my sister be dispos'd 
 To good Vitelli ; he deserves her. 
 
 Tr'u Your wishes are fulfill 'd : 
 Cousin Bonivet, welcome to life again ! 
 You and the General must be friends. 
 
 Dor. Your goodness will pardon my misfortune. 
 
 Bon. And desire to be esteem'd your servant. 
 
 Enter Fran gi pan. 
 
 Fran. With your leave, gentlemen ! Madam, I have such 
 news to tell you, as will tickle your understanding to be- 
 
THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 77 
 
 lieve : — the General is married ; and more, Signor Doria, 
 Lord Bonivet lives — That's lucky news for you. 
 
 Dor. He's here, good Signior Frangipan. 
 
 Fran. My news has ever the worst luck — I must resolve 
 to leave it off. 
 
 Ador. But, sir, I have some sudden news to tell you : 
 the thousand ducats you contracted to pay me when you 
 could understand the French as perfectly as myself, by all 
 these lords' indifferent judgment is due on this very minute. 
 
 Fran. This is news indeed ; you do not mean to make a 
 gull of me : a figo for a thousand ducats. As I am a gen- 
 tleman, I know not French for any thing, not for an ass : 
 good, your grace, let me not be abus'd. 
 
 Cor. 'Twas I, my lord, who made the bargain with him : 
 The money is not due until my cousin 
 Have French as perfect as himself. 
 
 Dor. He has ; I'll bear him witness ; for Adorni 
 Speaks not one true French word. 
 
 Fran, How ! not one true French word ? 
 
 Ador. No, not a word; you must disburse. 
 
 Fran. Tutor, I'll tell you news ; 
 You made a fool of me ; 
 I could abuse him horribly, 
 If I durst for fear of beating. [aside. 
 
 Ador. My lord, 
 If he will undertake wars, 
 I'll quit my bargain. 
 
 Fran. I'll pay it treble first : the name of war 
 Has brought an ague on me. 
 
 
78 THE LADY'S PRIVILEGE. 
 
 TrL You two agree that : cousins, I rejoice 
 To see this happy period of your loves. 
 Let's back unto the temple, that the priest 
 May, by his sacred power, unite your hearts. 
 Lead to the temple ! [exeunt. 
 
THE EPILOGUE. 
 
 Frangipan. 
 
 Gentlemen, I'll tell you news ; the Play is done; 
 And he that writ it, betwixt hope and fear, 
 Stands pensive in the tyring-house to hear 
 Your censures of his Play. Good Gentlemen, 
 Let it be kind ! or, otherwise, his pen 
 Will write but dully, for he needs must lack, 
 If you dispraise 't, the quick'ning spirit of sack 
 To inflame his genius, which you'll ever find 
 Devoted to you, if your votes be kind. 
 

 VARIATIONS FROM THE OLD EDITION. 
 
 •age. 
 5 
 
 line. 
 27 
 
 humour is substituted for honour in 
 
 17 
 
 9 
 
 ditto ditto 
 
 33 
 
 21 
 
 in you of you 
 
 42 
 
 20 
 
 I introduced 
 
 43 
 
 1 
 
 contemning concerning 
 
 49 
 
 25 
 
 thank think 
 
 51 
 
 15 
 
 the its 
 
 m 
 
 23 
 
 fearlessly fearfully 
 
 — 
 
 28 
 
 but and 
 
 58 
 
 7 
 
 on to 
 
 59 
 
 8 
 
 and it 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by D. S. Maurica, Fenchurch Street. 
 
^■^B