Love for Love [35]
but if I don't fit you, I'll be hanged. [Aside.]
VAL. You see what disguises love makes us put on. Gods have been in counterfeited shapes for the same reason; and the divine part of me, my mind, has worn this mask of madness and this motley livery, only as the slave of love and menial creature of your beauty.
ANG. Mercy on me, how he talks! Poor Valentine!
VAL. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws toward an end, and let us think of leaving acting and be ourselves; and since you have loved me, you must own I have at length deserved you should confess it.
ANG. [Sighs.] I would I had loved you--for heav'n knows I pity you, and could I have foreseen the bad effects, I would have striven; but that's too late. [Sighs.]
VAL. What sad effects?--what's too late? My seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone before I knew you had been here.
ANG. How! I thought your love of me had caused this transport in your soul; which, it seems, you only counterfeited, for mercenary ends and sordid interest.
VAL. Nay, now you do me wrong; for if any interest was considered it was yours, since I thought I wanted more than love to make me worthy of you.
ANG. Then you thought me mercenary. But how am I deluded by this interval of sense to reason with a madman?
VAL. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer.
SCENE XIX.
[To them] JEREMY.
ANG. Oh, here's a reasonable creature--sure he will not have the impudence to persevere. Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness counterfeit.
JERE. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely and substantially mad as any freeholder in Bethlehem; nay, he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe.
VAL. Sirrah, you be; I am not mad.
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.
JERE. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad enough to own it?
VAL. Sot, can't you apprehend?
ANG. Why, he talked very sensibly just now.
JERE. Yes, madam; he has intervals. But you see he begins to look wild again now.
VAL. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the farce is done, and I will be mad no longer. [Beats him.]
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy?
JERE. Partly, I think,--for he does not know his own mind two hours. I'm sure I left him just now in the humour to be mad, and I think I have not found him very quiet at this present. Who's there? [One knocks.]
VAL. Go see, you sot.--I'm very glad that I can move your mirth though not your compassion.
ANG. I did not think you had apprehension enough to be exceptions. But madmen show themselves most by over-pretending to a sound understanding, as drunken men do by over-acting sobriety. I was half inclining to believe you, till I accidently touched upon your tender part: but now you have restored me to my former opinion and compassion.
JERE. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any better yet. Will you please to be mad, sir, or how?
VAL. Stupidity! You know the penalty of all I'm worth must pay for the confession of my senses; I'm mad, and will be mad to everybody but this lady.
JERE. So--just the very backside of truth,--but lying is a figure in speech that interlards the greatest part of my conversation. Madam, your ladyship's woman.
SCENE XX.
VALENTINE, ANGELICA, JENNY.
ANG. Well, have you been there?--Come hither.
JENNY. Yes, madam; Sir Sampson will wait upon you presently. [Aside to ANGELICA.]
VAL. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty?
ANG. Would anything but a madman complain of uncertainty? Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing, and the overtaking and possessing of a wish discovers the folly of the chase. Never let
VAL. You see what disguises love makes us put on. Gods have been in counterfeited shapes for the same reason; and the divine part of me, my mind, has worn this mask of madness and this motley livery, only as the slave of love and menial creature of your beauty.
ANG. Mercy on me, how he talks! Poor Valentine!
VAL. Nay, faith, now let us understand one another, hypocrisy apart. The comedy draws toward an end, and let us think of leaving acting and be ourselves; and since you have loved me, you must own I have at length deserved you should confess it.
ANG. [Sighs.] I would I had loved you--for heav'n knows I pity you, and could I have foreseen the bad effects, I would have striven; but that's too late. [Sighs.]
VAL. What sad effects?--what's too late? My seeming madness has deceived my father, and procured me time to think of means to reconcile me to him, and preserve the right of my inheritance to his estate; which otherwise, by articles, I must this morning have resigned. And this I had informed you of to-day, but you were gone before I knew you had been here.
ANG. How! I thought your love of me had caused this transport in your soul; which, it seems, you only counterfeited, for mercenary ends and sordid interest.
VAL. Nay, now you do me wrong; for if any interest was considered it was yours, since I thought I wanted more than love to make me worthy of you.
ANG. Then you thought me mercenary. But how am I deluded by this interval of sense to reason with a madman?
VAL. Oh, 'tis barbarous to misunderstand me longer.
SCENE XIX.
[To them] JEREMY.
ANG. Oh, here's a reasonable creature--sure he will not have the impudence to persevere. Come, Jeremy, acknowledge your trick, and confess your master's madness counterfeit.
JERE. Counterfeit, madam! I'll maintain him to be as absolutely and substantially mad as any freeholder in Bethlehem; nay, he's as mad as any projector, fanatic, chymist, lover, or poet in Europe.
VAL. Sirrah, you be; I am not mad.
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! you see he denies it.
JERE. O Lord, madam, did you ever know any madman mad enough to own it?
VAL. Sot, can't you apprehend?
ANG. Why, he talked very sensibly just now.
JERE. Yes, madam; he has intervals. But you see he begins to look wild again now.
VAL. Why, you thick-skulled rascal, I tell you the farce is done, and I will be mad no longer. [Beats him.]
ANG. Ha, ha, ha! is he mad or no, Jeremy?
JERE. Partly, I think,--for he does not know his own mind two hours. I'm sure I left him just now in the humour to be mad, and I think I have not found him very quiet at this present. Who's there? [One knocks.]
VAL. Go see, you sot.--I'm very glad that I can move your mirth though not your compassion.
ANG. I did not think you had apprehension enough to be exceptions. But madmen show themselves most by over-pretending to a sound understanding, as drunken men do by over-acting sobriety. I was half inclining to believe you, till I accidently touched upon your tender part: but now you have restored me to my former opinion and compassion.
JERE. Sir, your father has sent to know if you are any better yet. Will you please to be mad, sir, or how?
VAL. Stupidity! You know the penalty of all I'm worth must pay for the confession of my senses; I'm mad, and will be mad to everybody but this lady.
JERE. So--just the very backside of truth,--but lying is a figure in speech that interlards the greatest part of my conversation. Madam, your ladyship's woman.
SCENE XX.
VALENTINE, ANGELICA, JENNY.
ANG. Well, have you been there?--Come hither.
JENNY. Yes, madam; Sir Sampson will wait upon you presently. [Aside to ANGELICA.]
VAL. You are not leaving me in this uncertainty?
ANG. Would anything but a madman complain of uncertainty? Uncertainty and expectation are the joys of life. Security is an insipid thing, and the overtaking and possessing of a wish discovers the folly of the chase. Never let