• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 20035 0

him in Court, and I must send him upon the View of his Letter? — Horsemanship! What Horsemanship has Julio? I think, he can no more but gallop a Hackney, unless he practised Riding in France. It may be, he did so; for he was there a good Continuance. But I have not heard him speak much of his Horsemanship. That’s no Matter: if he be not a good Horseman, all’s one in such a Case, he must bear. Princes are absolute; they may do what they will in any Thing, save what they cannot do.

Enters Julio.

O, come on, Sir; read this Paper: no more Ado, but read it: It must not be answer’d by my Hand, nor yours, but, in Gross, by your Person; your sole Person. Read aloud.

Jul. ’Please you, to let me first o’erlook it, Sir.

Cam. I was this other day in a Spleen against your new Suits: I do now think, some Fate was the Taylour that hath fitted them: for, this Hour, they are for the Palace of the Duke. — Your Father’s House is too dusty.

Jul. Hem!— to Court? Which is the better, to serve a Mistress, or a Duke? I am sued to be his Slave, and I sue to be Leonora’s. [Aside.

Cam. You shall find your Horsemanship much praised there; Are you so good a Horseman?

Jul. I have been,

E’er now, commended for my Seat, or mock’d.

Cam. Take one Commendation with another, every Third’s a Mock.— Affect not therefore to be praised. Here’s a deal of Command and Entreaty mixt; there’s no denying; you must go, peremptorily he inforces That.

Jul. What Fortune soever my Going shall encounter, cannot be good Fortune; What I part withal unseasons any other Goodness. [Aside.

Cam. You must needs go; he rather conjures, than importunes.

Jul. No moving of my Love-Suit to him now?—

[Aside.

Cam. Great Fortunes have grown out of less Grounds.

Jul. What may her Father think of me, who expects to be sollicited this very Night? [Aside.

Cam. Those scatter’d Pieces of Virtue, which are in him, the Court will solder together, varnish, and rectify.

Jul. He will surely think I deal too slightly, or unmannerly, or foolishly, indeed; nay, dishonestly; to bear him in hand with my Father’s Consent, who yet hath not been touch’d with so much as a Request to it. [Aside.

Cam. Well, Sir, have you read it over?

Jul. Yes, Sir.

Cam. And consider’d it?

Jul. As I can.

Cam. If you are courted by good Fortune, you must go.

Jul. So it please You, Sir.

Cam. By any Means, and to morrow: Is it not there the Limit of his Request?

Jul. It is, Sir.

Cam. I must bethink me of some Necessaries, without which you might be unfurnish’d: And my Supplies shall at all Convenience follow You. Come to my Closet by and by; I would there speak with You.

[Exit Camillo.

Manet Julio solus.

Jul. I do not see that Fervour in the Maid,

Which Youth and Love should kindle. She consents,

As ’twere to feed without an Appetite;

Tells me, She is content; and plays the Coy one,

Like Those that subtly make their Words their Ward,

Keeping Address at Distance. This Affection

Is such a feign’d One, as will break untouch’d;

Dye frosty, e’er it can be thaw’d; while mine,

Like to a Clime beneath Hyperion’s Eye,

Burns with one constant Heat. I’ll strait go to her;

Pray her to regard my Honour: but She greets me.—

Enter Leonora, and Maid.

See, how her Beauty doth inrich the Place!

O, add the Musick of thy charming Tongue,

Sweet as the Lark that wakens up the Morn,

And make me think it Paradise indeed.

I was about to seek thee, Leonora,

And chide thy Coldness, Love.

Leon. What says your Father?

Jul. I have not mov’d him yet.

Leon. Then do not, Julio.

Jul. Not move him? Was it not your own Command,

That his Consent should ratify our Loves?

Leon. Perhaps, it was: but now I’ve chang’d my Mind.

You purchase at too dear a Rate, that puts You

To wooe me and your Father too: Besides,

As He, perchance, may say, you shall not have me;

You, who are so obedient, must discharge me

Out of your Fancy: Then, you know, ’twill prove

My Shame and Sorrow, meeting such Repulse,

To wear the Willow in my Prime of Youth.

Jul. Oh! do not rack me with these ill-placed Doubts;

Nor think, tho’ Age