Читать книгу The Elder Brother - Beaumont Francis - Страница 12

Enter Lewis, Angellina, Eustace, Priest, Ladies, Cowsy, Notary, and Miramont.

Not. Come, let him bring his Sons hand, and all's done. Is your's ready?

Pri. Yes, I'll dispatch ye presently, immediately, for in truth I am a hungry.

Eust. Do, speak apace, for we believe exactly: do not we stay long, Mistress?

Ang. I find no fault, better things well done, than want time to do them. Uncle, why are you sad?

Mir. Sweet smelling blossom, would I were thine Uncle to thine own content, I'd make thy Husband's state a thousand better, a yearly thousand. Thou hast mist a man, (but that he is addicted to his study, and knows no other Mistress than his mind) would weigh down bundles of these empty kexes.

Ang. Can he speak, Sir?

Mir. Faith yes, but not to Women; his language is to Heaven, and heavenly wonder; to Nature, and her dark and secret causes.

Ang. And does he speak well there?

Mir. O admirably! but he's too bashful to behold a Woman, there's none that sees him, and he troubles none.

Ang. He is a man.

Mir. Faith yes, and a clear sweet spirit.

Ang. Then conversation me thinks—

Mir. So think I; but it is his rugged Fate, and so I leave you.

Ang. I like thy nobleness.

Eust. See my mad Uncle is courting my fair Mistress.

Lew. Let him alone; there's nothing that allays an angry mind so soon as a sweet Beauty: he'll come to us.

Enter Brisac, and Charles.

Eust. My Father's here, my Brother too! that's a wonder, broke like a Spirit from his Cell.

Bri. Come hither, come nearer, Charles; 'twas your desire to see my noble Daughter, and the company, and give your Brother joy, and then to Seal, Boy; you do, like a good Brother.

Lew. Marry does he, and he shall have my love for ever for't. Put to your hand now.

Not. Here's the Deed, Sir, ready.

Char. No, you must pardon me a while, I tell ye, I am in contemplation, do not trouble me.

Bri. Come, leave thy Study, Charles.

Char. I'll leave my life first; I study now to be a man, I've found it. Before what Man was, was but my Argument.

Mir. I like this best of all, he has taken fire, his dull mist flies away.

Eust. Will you write, Brother?

Char. No, Brother, no; I have no time for poor things, I'm taking the height of that bright Constellation.

Bri. I say you trifle time, Son.

Char. I will not seal, Sir; I am your Eldest, and I'll keep my Birth-right, for Heaven forbid I should become example: Had y'only shew'd me Land, I had deliver'd it, and been a proud man to have parted with it; 'tis dirt, and labour. Do I speak right, Uncle?

Mir. Bravely, my Boy, and bless thy tongue.

Char. I'll forward: but you have open'd to me such a treasure, I find my mind free; Heaven direct my fortune.

Mir. Can he speak now? Is this a son to sacrifice?

Char. Such an inimitable piece of Beauty, that I have studied long, and now found only, that I'll part sooner with my soul of Reason, and be a Plant, a Beast, a Fish, a Flie, and only make the number of things up, than yield to one foot of Land, if she be ti'd to't.

Lew. He speaks unhappily.

Ang. And methinks bravely. This the meer Scholar?

Eust. You but vex your self, Brother, and vex your study too.

Char. Go you and study, for 'tis time, young Eustace; you want both man and manners; I've study'd both, although I made no shew on't. Go turn the Volumes over I have read, eat and digest them, that they may grow in thee; wear out the tedious night with thy dim Lamp, and sooner lose the day, than leave a doubt. Distil the sweetness from the Poets Spring, and learn to love; thou know'st not what fair is: Traverse the stories of the great Heroes, the wise and civil lives of good men walk through; thou hast seen nothing but the face of Countrys, and brought home nothing but their empty words: why shouldst thou wear a Jewel of this worth, that hast no worth within thee to preserve her?

Mir. Speak such another Ode, and take all yet. What say ye to the Scholar now?

Ang. I wonder; is he your Brother, Sir?

Eust. Yes, would he were buried; I fear he'll make an Ass of me a younger.

Ang. Speak not so softly, Sir, 'tis very likely.

Bri. Come, leave your finical talk, and let's dispatch, Charles.

Char. Dispatch, what?

Bri. Why the Land.

Char. You are deceiv'd, Sir. Now I perceive what 'tis that wooes a woman, and what maintains her when she's woo'd: I'll stop here. A wilful poverty ne'er made a Beauty, nor want of means maintain'd it vertuously: though land and moneys be no happiness, yet they are counted good additions. That use I'll make; he that neglects a blessing, though he want a present knowledge how to use it, neglects himself. May be I have done you wrong, Lady, whose love and hope went hand in hand together; may be my Brother, that has long expected the happy hour, and bless'd my ignorance; pray give me leave, Sir, I shall clear all doubts; why did they shew me you? pray tell me that?

(Mir. He'll talk thee into a pension for thy knavery.)

Char. You, happy you, why did you break unto me? The Rosie sugred morn ne'er broke so sweetly: I am a man, and have desires within me, affections too, though they were drown'd a while, and lay dead, till the Spring of beauty rais'd them; till I saw those eyes, I was but a lump, a chaos of confusedness dwelt in me; then from those eyes shot Love, and he distinguish'd, and into form he drew my faculties; and now I know my Land, and now I love too.

Bri. We had best remove the Maid.

Char. It is too late, Sir. I have her figure here. Nay frown not, Eustace