Читать книгу Plays, written by Sir John Vanbrugh, volume the first - John Vanbrugh - Страница 9

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Enter Loveless, reading.

How true is that Philosophy which says

Our Heaven is seated in our Minds!

Through all the roving Pleasures of my Youth,

(Where Nights and Days seem all consum'd in Joy,

Where the false Face of Luxury

Display'd such Charms,

As might have shaken the most holy Hermit,

And made him totter at his Altar)

I never knew one Moment's Peace like this.

Here—in this little soft Retreat,

My thoughts unbent from all the Cares of Life,

Content with Fortune,

Eas'd from the grating Duties of Dependence,

From Envy free, Ambition under foot,

The raging Flame of wild destructive Lust

Reduc'd to a warm pleasing Fire of lawful Love,

My Life glides on, and all is well within.

Enter Amanda.

Lov. meeting her kindly.

How does the happy Cause of my Content, my dear Amanda? You find me musing on my happy State, And full of grateful Thoughts to Heaven, and you.

Aman. Those grateful Offerings Heaven can't receive With more Delight than I do: Would I cou'd share with it as well The Dispensations of its Bliss, That I might search its choicest Favours out, And shower 'em on your Head for ever.

Lov. The largest Boons that Heaven thinks fit to grant To Things it has decreed shall crawl on Earth, Are in the Gift of Woman form'd like you. Perhaps when Time shall be no more, When the aspiring Soul shall take its Flight, And drop this pond'rous Lump of Clay behind it, It may have Appetites we know not of, And Pleasures as refin'd as its Desires— But till that Day of Knowledge shall instruct me, The utmost Blessing that my Thought can reach, [Taking her in his Arms.] Is folded in my Arms, and rooted in my Heart.

Aman. There let it grow for ever.

Lov. Well said, Amanda—let it be for ever.— Wou'd Heaven grant that—

Aman. 'Twere all the Heaven I'd ask. But we are clad in black Mortality, And the dark Curtain of eternal Night At last must drop between us.

Lov. It must: that mournful Separation we must see. A bitter Pill it is to all; but doubles its ungrateful Taste, When Lovers are to swallow it;

Aman. Perhaps that Pain may only be my Lot, You possibly may be exempted from it; Men find out softer ways to quench their Fires.

Lov. Can you then doubt my Constancy, Amanda? You'll find 'tis built upon a steady Basis—— The Rock of Reason now supports my Love, On which it stands so fix'd, The rudest Hurricane of wild Desire Wou'd, like the Breath of a soft slumbering Babe, Pass by, and never shake it.

Aman. Yet still 'tis safer to avoid the Storm; The strongest Vessels, if they put to Sea, May possibly be lost. Wou'd I cou'd keep you here in this calm Port for ever! Forgive the Weakness of a Woman, I am uneasy at your going to stay so long in Town; I know its false insinuating Pleasures; I know the Force of its Delusions; I know the Strength of its Attacks; I know the weak Defence of Nature; I know you are a Man—and I—a Wife.

Lov. You know then all that needs to give you Rest, For Wife's the strongest Claim that you can urge. When you would plead your Title to my Heart, On this you may depend; therefore be calm, Banish your Fears, for they are Traitors to your Peace: Beware of them, they are insinuating busy Things That gossip to and fro, and do a World of Mischief Where they come: But you shall soon be Mistress of 'em all, I'll aid you with such Arms for their Destruction, They never shall erect their Heads again. You know the Business is indispensible, that obliges Me to go to London, and you have no Reason, that I Know of, to believe that I'm glad of the Occasion: For my honest Conscience is my Witness, I have found a due Succession of such Charms In my Retirement here with you, I have never thrown one roving Thought that way; But since, against my Will, I'm dragg'd once more To that uneasy Theatre of Noise, I am resolv'd to make such use on't, As shall convince you 'tis an old cast Mistress, Who has been so lavish of her Favours, She's now grown Bankrupt of her Charms, And has not one Allurement left to move me.

Aman. Her Bow, I do believe, is grown so weak, Her Arrows (at this distance) cannot hurt you, But in approaching 'em you give 'em Strength: The Dart that has not far to fly, Will put the best of Armour to a dangerous Trial.

Lov. That Trial past, and y'are at ease for ever; When you have seen the Helmet prov'd, You'll apprehend no more for him that wears it: Therefore to put a lasting Period to your Fears, I am resolv'd, this once, to launch into Temptation. I'll give you an Essay of all my Virtues; My former boon Companions of the Bottle Shall fairly try what Charms are left in Wine: I'll take my Place amongst them, They shall hem me in, Sing Praises to their God, and drink his Glory; Turn wild Enthusiasts for his sake, And Beasts to do him Honour: Whilst I, a stubborn Atheist, Sullenly look on, Without one reverend Glass to his Divinity. That for my Temperance, Then for my Constancy——

Aman. Ay, there take heed.

Lov. Indeed the Danger's small.

Aman. And yet my Fears are great.

Lov. Why are you so timorous?

Aman. Because you are so bold.

Lov. My Courage should disperse your Apprehensions.

Aman. My Apprehensions should alarm your Courage.

Lov. Fy, fy, Amanda, it is not kind thus to distrust me.

Aman. And yet my Fears are founded on my Love.

Lov. For if you can believe 'tis possible I shou'd again relapse to my past Follies, I must appear to you a thing Of such an undigested Composition, That but to think of me with Inclination, Wou'd be a Weakness in your Taste, Your Virtue scarce cou'd answer.

Aman. 'Twou'd be a Weakness in my Tongue, My Prudence cou'd not answer, If I shou'd press you farther with my Fears; I'll therefore trouble you no longer with 'em.

Lov. Nor shall they trouble you much longer, A little time shall shew you they were groundless; This Winter shall be the fiery Trial of my Virtue; Which, when it once has past, You'll be convinc'd 'twas of no false Allay, There all your Cares will end—

Aman. Pray Heaven they may!

[Exeunt Hand in Hand.