THE HOG HATH LOST HIS PEARL; A COMEDY [PUBLISHED 1614], BY ROBERT TAILOR [FLOURISHED 1614] Carracus appoints his friend Albert to meet him before the break of day at the house of the old Lord Wealthy, whose daughter Maria has consented to a stolen match with Carracus.-Albert, arriving before his friend, is mistaken by Maria for Carracus, and takes advantage of the night to wrong his friend. Enter ALBERT, solus. Alb. This is the green, and this the chamber-window; And see, the appointed light stands in the casement, The ladder of ropes set orderly, Yet he that should ascend, slow in his haste, Is not as yet come hither. Were it any friend that lives but Carracus, I'd try the bliss which this fine time presents. And be so slack! 'sfoot, it doth move my patience. Not have watch'd night by night for such a prize? Thy faith to him whose only friendship's worth He is and was ever as thine own heart's blood. [Maria beckons him from the window. 'Sfoot, see, she beckons me for Carracus. person, It may be acted and ne'er call'd in question. [Albert ascends, and being on the top of the ladder, puts out the candle. Alb. I heard the steps of some coming this way. Did you not hear Albert pass by as yet? Mar. Not any creature pass this way this hour. Alb. Then he intends just at the break of day To lend his trusty help to our departure. Mar. Come then, dear Carracus, thou now shalt rest Upon that bed where fancy oft hath thought thee; Which kindness until now I ne'er did grant thee, Nor would I now but that thy loyal faith I have so often tried; even now, Seeing thee come to that most honour'd end, Through all the dangers which black night presents, For to convey me hence and marry me.1 [They go in. Enter CARRACUs, to his appointment. Car. How pleasing are the steps we lovers make, To make me happy whilst I live on earth; This is the green; how dark the night appears! She feared to set a light, and only heark'neth no, I will stay 1[Two lines omitted.] Until the coming of my dear friend Albert. Yet reason tells us, parents are o'erseen, Their child's affections, and controul that love Which the high powers divine inspire them with; When in their shallowest judgments they may know, But whilst I run contemplating on this, I softly pace to my desired bliss. I'll go into the next field, where my friend ALBERT descending from MARIA. Mar. But do not stay. What if you find not Albert ? Mar. If you should now deceive me, having gain'd Alb. Sooner I'll deceive My soul-and so I fear I have. Mar. At your first call I will descend. Alb. Till when, this touch of lips be the true pledge Of Carracus' constant true devoted love. Mar. Be sure you stay not long; farewell. I cannot lend an ear to hear you part. Alb. But you did lend a hand unto my entrance. [Exit. [Aside. [Maria goes in. [He descends. Alb. (solus) How I have wrong'd my friend, my faithful friend! Robb'd him of what's more precious than his blood, His earthly heaven, the unspotted honour Of his soul-joying mistress! the fruition of whose bed I yet am warm of; whilst dear Carracus Wanders this cold night through the unshelt'ring field Seeking me treach'rous man, yet no man neither, Of wronged love and friendship rightly makes me. His wish'd desires with his best performance; But like a wretch hides 1 him to dig his grave; Yet, Albert, be not reasonless to indanger Who can detect The crime of thy licentious appetite? I hear one's pace; 'tis surely Carracus. Enter CARRACUS. Car. Not find my friend! sure some malignant planet Rules o'er this night, and envying the content Which I in thought possess, debars me thus From what is more than happy, the lov'd presence Of a dear friend and love. Alb. "Tis wronged Carracus by Albert's baseness : I have no power now to reveal myself. Car. The horses stand at the appointed place, And night's dark coverture makes firm our safety. On some bank hereabouts; I will call him. Friend, Albert, Albert. Alb. Whate'er you are that call, you know my name. [Maria appears above. Mar. My Carracus, are you so soon return'd? I see, you'll keep your promise. Car. Who would not do so, having pass'd it thee, Cannot be fram'd of aught but treachery. Fairest, descend, that by our hence departing 1 1 [Dodsley, 1874: "hies ".] Mar. Hold me from falling, Carracus. Car. Come, fair Maria, the troubles of this night Can but avail your good [She descends. Alb. O friend, no more; come, you are slow in haste. Till all her deeds be finish'd. Who, looking in a book, [Aside. [Exeunt. [Act i.] Albert, after the marriage of Carracus, struck with remorse for the injury he has done to his friend, knocks at Carracus's door, but cannot summon resolution to see him, or to do more than inquire after his welfare. Alb. Conscience, thou horror unto wicked men, Of thy tormenting terror? O, but it fits not! Able to fill Shame's spacious chronicle? Who but a damn'd one could have done like me? Sweetly discours'd to me of his Maria! And with what pleasing passions did he suffer 1[Dodsley, ed. Hazlitt, 1874, vol. xi.] |