Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 06 of 10Fletcher, John
General
Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 06 of 10
Fletcher, John
English drama
_Leo._ Could every hair, great Queen
Upon my head yield an articulate sound,
And altogether speak, they could not yet
Express the villany we have discoverd,
And yet, when with a few unwilling words
I have deliver'd what must needs be known,
You'll say I am too eloquent, and wish
I had been born without a tongue.
_Qu._ Speak boldly,
For I, unmov'd with any loss, will hear.
_Leo._ Then know, we have found out the Ravisher
Of my poor Sister, and the place, and means
By which th' unfortunate, though fair _Beliza_
Hath met a second violence.
_Euph._ This confirms what but before I doubted to my ruine.
My Lady ravish'd.
_Qu._ Point me out the villain;
That guilty wretched monster that hath done this,
[T]hat I may look on him, and in mine eye
He [read] his Sentence.
_Leo._ That I truly could
Name any other but the Prince, that heard,
You have it all.
_Qu._ Wonder not that I shake,
The miracle is greater that I live,
Having endur'd the thunder that thy words
Have thrown upon me: dar'st thou kneel, with hope
Of any favor, but a speedy death,
And that too in the dreadful'st shape that can
Appear to a dispair[i]ng leprous soul,
If thou hast any? no, libidinous beast,
Thy lust hath alter'd so thy former Being,
By Heaven I know thee not.
_The._ Although unworthy
Yet still I am your Son.
_Qu._ Thou lyest, lyest falsly,
My whole life never knew but one chaste bed,
Nor e'r desir'd warmth but from lawful fires,
Can I be then the Mother to a Goat,
Whose lust is more insatiate than the grave,
And like infectious air ingenders plagues,
To murder all that's chaste, or good in Woman?
The gods I from my youth have serv'd and fear'd,
Whose holy Temples thou hast made thy Brothels;
Could a Religious Mother then bring forth
So damn'd an Atheist? read but o'r my life,
My actions, manners, and made perfect in them
But look into the story of thy self
As thou art now, not as thou wert _Theanor_,
And reason will compel thee to confess,
Thou art a stranger to me.
_Ag._ Note but how heavy
The weight of guilt is: it so low hath sunk him
That he wants power to rise up in defence
Of [his] bad cause.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account