« 이전계속 »
- - - -------------- *** * *
Old Mir. Patience Patience, sir! [Old MIRABEL holds him.] Bob, draw.
Dug Patience! the coward’s virtue, and the brave man’s failing, when thus provoked—Villain :
Y. Mir. Your sister's phrenzy shall excuse your madness; and, to shew my concern for what she suffers, I’ll bear the villain from her brother.—Put up your anger with your sword; I have a heart like yours, that swells at an affront received, but melts at an injury given; and, if the lovely Oriana's grief be such a moving scene, 'twill find a part within this breast, perhaps as tender as a brother’s.
Dug. To prove that soft compassion for her grief, endeavour to remove it.—There, there, behold an object that’s infective; I cannot view her, but I am as mad as she
Enter ORIANA, held by Tito Maids, who put her in a Chair.
A sister, that my dying parents left, with their last words and blessing, to my care. Sister, dearest sister | [Goes to her. Old Mir. Ay, poor child, poor child, d'ye know me * Oriana. You ! you are Amadis de Gaul, sir.—Oh! oh, my heart | Were you ever in love, fair lady ? And do you never dream of flowers and gardens —I dream of walking fires, and tall gigantic sights. Take heed, it comes now—What's that ; Pray stand away: I have seen that face, sure—How light my head is Y. Mir. What piercing charms has beauty, even in madness! Qriana. I cannot; for I must be up to go to church, and I must dress me, put on my new gown, and be so fine, to meet my love. Heigho 1-Will not you tell me where my heart lies buried?
Oriana. How soft and gentle you feel ! I'll tell you
your fortune, friend.
Y. Mir. How she stares upon me ! Oriana. You have a flattering face; but 'tis a fine one—I warrant you have five hundred mistresses—Ay, to be sure, a mistress for every guinea in his pocket —Will you pray for me 2 I shall die to-morrow And will you ring my passing bell ? Y. Mir. Do you know me, injured creature ? Oriana. No, but you shall be my intimate acquaintance—in the grave. [Weeps. Y. Mir. Oh, tears I must believe you; sure there’s a kind of sympathy in madness; for even I, obdurate as I am, do feel my soul so tossed with storms of passion, that I could cry for help as well as she. [Wipes his Eyes. Oriana. What, have you lost your lover ? No, you mock me ; I’ll go home and pray. Y. Mir. Stay, my fair innocence, and hear me own my love so loud, that I may call your senses to their place, restore them to their charming happy functions, and reinstate myself into your favour. Bis. Let her alone, sir; ’tis all too late; she trembles; hold her, her fits grow stronger by her talking; don’t trouble her, she don’t know you, sir. Old Mir. Not know him what then she loves to see him for all that.
Dur. Where are you all? What the devil melancholy, and I here ! Are ye sad, and such a ridiculous subject, such a very good jest among you as I am? Y. Mir. Away with this impertinence; this is no place for bagatelle; I have murdered my honour, destroyed a lady, and my desire of reparation is come at length too late. See there! Dur. What ails her?
Y. Mir. Alas, she’s mad Dur. Mad dost wonder at that By this light, they’re all so; they’re cozcning mad; they’re brawling mad; they’re proud mad: I just now came from a whole world of mad women, that had almost— What, is she dead Y. Mir. Dead | Heavens forbid. Dur. Heavens further it; for, till they be as cold as a key, there's no trusting them ; you're never sure that a woman's in earnest, till she is nailed in her coffin. Shall I talk to her Are you mad, mistress * Bis. What’s that to you, sir! Dur. Oons, madam, are you there? [Runs off." Y. Mir. Away, thou wild buffoon How poor and mean this humour now appears His follies and my own I here disclaim; this lady’s phrenzy has restored my senses, and was she perfect now, as once she was, (before you all I speak it) she should be mine; and, as she is, my tears and prayers shall wed her. Dug. How happy had this declaration been some hours ago I Bis. Sir, she beckons to you, and waves us to go off; come, come, let's leave them, [Ereunt all but YouNG Misabel and ORIANA. Oriana. Oh, sir! Y. Mir. Speak, my charming angel, if your dear senses have regained their order; speak, fair, and bless me with the news. Oriana. First, let me bless the cunning of my sex, that happy counterfeited phrenzy that has restored to my poor labouring breast the dearest, best beloved of men. Y. Mir. Tune all, ye spheres, your instruments of joy, and carry round your spacious orbs the happy sound of Oriana's health; her soul, whose harmony was next to yours, is now in tune again ; the coun
terfeiting fair has played the fool.
She was so mad, to counterfeit for me;
Oriana. How, sir? Free Y. Mir. As air, my dear bedlamite! What, marry a lunatic | Lookye, my dear, you have counterfeited madness so very well this bout, that you'll be apt to play, the fool all your life long. Here, gentlemen | Oriana. Monster! you won't disgrace me ! Y. Mir. O’ my faith, but I will. Here, gome in gentlemen.—A miracle! a miracle! the woman’s dispossess'd the devil's vanished
Bnter Old MIRAbel and DuGARD.
Old Mir. Bless us ! was she possessed ?
Y. Mir. With the worst of demons, sir! a marriage devil! a horrid devil l-Mr Dugard, don't be surprised. I promised my endeavours to cure your sister; no mad doctor in Christendom could have done it more effectually. Take her into your charge; and have a care she don't relapse. If she should, employ me not again, for I am no more infallible than others of the faculty; I do cure sometimes.
Oriana. Your remedy, most barbarous man, will prove the greatest poison to my health; for, though my former phrenzy was but counterfeit, I now shall run into a real madness.
[Erit ; Old MIRAbel after.
Y. Mir. What a dangerous precipice have I'scap'd
Was not I just now upon the brink of destruction ?
Oh, my friend, let me run into thy bosom 1 no lark
escaped from the devouring pounces of a hawk, quakes with more dismal apprehension. Dur. The matter, man Y. Mir, Marriage 1 hanging !. I was just at the gallows foot, the running noose about my neck, and the cart wheeling from me.—Oh, I shan’t be myself this month again! Dur. Did not I tell you so They are all alike, saints or devils | Y. Mir. Ay, ay : there’s no living here with security; this house is so full of stratagem and design, that I must abroad again. Dur. With all my heart; I’ll bear thee company, my lad: I’ll meet you at the play; and we'll set out for Italy to-morrow morning. Y. Mir. A match; I’ll go pay my compliment of leave to my father presently. Dur. I'm afraid he’ll stop you. Y. Mir. What, pretend a command over me, after his settlement of a thousand pound a-year upon me ! No, no, he has passed away his authority with the conveyance; the will of the living father is chiefly obeyed for the sake of the dying one.
Dependence ev’n a father's sway secures,