Dor. Be nigh me still, then.

In golden letters down I'll set that day,
Which gave thee to me. Little did I hope
To meet such worlds of comfort in thyself,
This little, pretty body, when I coming
Forth of the temple, heard my beggar-boy,
My sweet-fac'd, godly beggar-boy, crave an alms,
Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky hand;
And when I took thee home, my most chaste bosom
Methought was fill'd with no hot wanton fire,
But with a holy flame, mounting since higher,
On wings of cherubims, than it did before.

Ang. Proud am I that my lady's modest eye
So likes so poor a servant.

Dor. I have offer'd

Handfuls of gold but to behold thy parents.
I would leave kingdoms, were I queen of some,
To dwell with thy good father; for, the son
Bewitching me so deeply with his presence,
He that begot him must do't ten times more.
I pray thee, my sweet boy, shew me thy parents;
Be not ashamed.

Ang. I am not : I did never

Know who my mother was; but, by yon palace,
Fill'd with bright heav'nly courtiers, I dare assure you,
And pawn these eyes upon it, and this hand,

My father is in heav'n; and, pretty mistress,
If your illustrious hour-glass spend his sand
No worse, than yet it doth, upon my life,
You and I both shall meet my father there,
And he shall bid you welcome.

Dor. A bless'd day!

[Act ii., Sc. 2.1]

This scene has beauties of so very high an order that with all my respect for Massinger, I do not think he had poetical enthusiasm capable of furnishing them. His associate Decker, who wrote Ôld Fortunatus, had poetry enough for any thing. The very impurities which obtrude themselves among the sweet pieties of this play (like Satan among the Sons of Heaven) and which the brief scope of my plan fortunately enables me to leave out, have a strength of contrast, a raciness, and a glow in them, which are above Massinger. They set off the religion of the rest, somehow as Caliban serves to shew Miranda.

1 [Mermaid Series, Massinger, ed. Symons, 1889. For other extracts from Decker see note on p. 60.]

The knowledge of Francisco, and some few,
By this device to advance my younger son
To a marriage with Jacinta, sir, and try
Fernando's piety, and his mistress' virtue :

Which I have found worth him, and my acceptance.
With her I give thee what thy birth did challenge :
Receive thy Felisarda.

Fer. "Tis a joy

So flowing, it drowns all my faculties.

My soul will not contain, I fear, but loose,

And leave me in this extacy.

[Act v., Sc. 3.]

THE LADY OF PLEASURE. A COMEDY [PUBLISHED 1637: LICENSED 1635]. BY JAMES SHIRLEY

Sir Thomas Bornewell expostulates with his lady on her extravagance and love of pleasure.

BORNEWELL. ARETINA, his lady.

Are. I am angry with myself;

To be so miserably restrain❜d in things,

Wherein it doth concern your love and honour
To see me satisfied.

Bor. In what, Aretina,

Dost thou accuse me? have I not obey'd
All thy desires, against mine own opinion;
Quitted the country, and remov'd the hope
Of our return, by sale of that fair lordship
We liv'd in chang'd a calm and retired life
For this wild town, compos'd of noise and charge?
Are. What charge, more than is necessary

For a lady of my birth and education?

Bor. I am not ignorant how much nobility
Flows in your blood, your kinsmen great and powerful
In the state; but with this lose not your memory
Of being my wife: I shall be studious,
Madam, to give the dignity of your birth
All the best ornaments which become my
But would not flatter it, to ruin both,
And be the fable of the town, to teach
Other men wit by loss of mine, employ'd
To serve your vast expences.

fortune;

Are. Am I then

Brought in the balance? so, sir.

Bor. Though you weigh

Me in a partial scale, my heart is honest:
And must take liberty to think, you have
Obey'd no modest counsel to effect,

Nay, study ways of pride and costly ceremony;
Your change of gaudy furniture, and pictures,
Of this Italian master, and that Dutchman's;
Your mighty looking-glasses, like artillery
Brought home on engines; the superfluous plate
Antick and novel; vanities of tires,

Four score pound suppers for my lord your kinsman,
Banquets for t'other lady, aunt, and cousins;
And perfumes, that exceed all; train of servants,
To stifle us at home, and shew abroad

More motly than the French, or the Venetian,
About your coach, whose rude postilion

Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers

And tradesmen curse your choaking up their stalls, And common cries pursue your ladyship

For hind'ring of their market.

Are. Have you done, sir?

Bor. I could accuse the gaiety of your wardrobe,

And prodigal embroideries, under which,
Rich satins, plushes, cloth of silver, dare
Not shew their own complexions; your jewels,
Able to burn out the spectators' eyes,

And shew like bonfires on you by the tapers:
Something might here be spared, with safety of
Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth
Shines from the soul, and draws up just admirers.
I could urge something more.

Are. Pray, do. I like

Your homily of thrift.

Bor. I could wish, madam,

You would not game so much.

Are. A gamester, too!

Bor. But are not come to that repentance yet, Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit; You look not through the subtilty of cards, And mysteries of dice, nor can you save Charge with the box, buy petticoats and pearls, And keep your family by the precious income; Nor do I wish you should: my poorest servant Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire

Purchas'd beneath my honour: you make play

Not a pastime, but a tyranny, and vex

Yourself and my estate by't.

Are. Good, proceed.

Bor. Another game you have, which consumes more
Your fame than purse, your revels in the night,
Your meetings, call'd the ball, to which appear,
As to the court of pleasure, all your gallants
And ladies, thither bound by a subpoena
Of Venus and small Cupid's high displeasure:
"Tis but the Family of Love, translated
Into more costly sin; there was a play on't;
And had the poet not been brib'd to a modest
Expression of your antic gambols in't,

Some darks had been discover'd; and the deeds too';
In time he may repent, and make some blush,
To see the second part danc'd on the stage.
My thoughts acquit you for dishonouring me
By any foul act; but the virtuous know,
"Tis not enough to clear ourselves, but the
Suspicions of our shame.

Are. Have you concluded

Your lecture?

Bor. I have done; and howsoever

My language may appear to you, it carries
No other than my fair and just intent

To your delights, without curb to their modest
And noble freedom.

Are. I'll not be so tedious

In my reply, but, without art or elegance,
Assure you I keep still my first opinion;
And though you veil your avaricious meaning
With handsome names of modesty and thrift,
I find you would intrench and wound the liberty
I was born with. Were my desires unprivileged
By example; while my judgment thought 'em fit,
You ought not to oppose: but when the practice
And tract of every honourable lady
Authorise me, I take it great injustice

To have my pleasures circumscrib'd and taught me.

[Act i., Sc. 1.']

This dialogue is in the very spirit of the recriminating scenes between Lord and Lady Townley in the Provoked Husband. It is difficult to believe, but it must

have been Vanbrugh's prototype.

[Mermaid Series, ed. Gosse. For other extracts from Shirley see pages 431, 496, 505, 524, 540, 566 and 569.]