A Select Collection of Old English Plays
Chapter 936 : AUR. Good father, let Aurelia, your daughter, Do this same act of justice; let me trea

AUR. Good father, let Aurelia, your daughter, Do this same act of justice; let me tread The pin:[33] the fact of his being so foul, so hateful, Has lent me, though a maid, such fort.i.tude.

PET. Thou hast thy wish, do't boldly; 'tis a deed That, in the ignorance of elder ages, Would be thought full of merit. Be not daunted.

AUR. I have a thought tells me it is religious To sacrifice a murtherer to death; Especially one that did act a deed So generally accounted odious.

PET. By holy Jaques,[34] I am a governor, And should my life (though by the hand of him My duty does call king) be stroke i' th' air; My injur'd corpse should not forsake the earth Till I did see't reveng'd: be resolute, thy foot Is guided by a power that, though unseen, Is still a furtherer of good attempts.

AUR. Pray, sir, lend me the key of the back-ward, For though my conscience tells me 'tis an act I may hereafter boast of, yet I'll pa.s.s Unto our Lady's chapel, when 'tis done, To be confess'd, ere I am seen of any.

PET. I am proud to see thee so well given.

Take 'em, [my] girl, and with 'em take my prayers.

AUR. He wakes; pray, leave me, sir.

[_Exit_ PETRUCHIO.

So I'll make fast The door: goodness, bear witness 'tis a potent Power outweighs my duty.

ANT. Amazement! on what tenters do you stretch [me].

O, how this alteration wracks my reason! I m[ust try]

To find the axletree on which it hangs!

Am I asleep?

AUR. Shake off thy wonder; leave that seat; 'twas set To sink thy body for ever from the eyes Of human sight; to tell thee how would be A fatal means to both our ruins----briefly, My love has broke the bands of nature With my father to give you being.

ANT. Happy, [O] happy vision! the bless'd preparative To this same hour; my joy would burst me else.

AUR. Receive me to thy arms.

ANT. I would not wish to live but for thee: [but for thee,]

Life were a trouble; welcome to my soul.

AUR. Stand; I have a ceremony To offer to our safety, ere we go.

[_She takes a dog, and ties it to the chair: she stamps: the chair and dog descend: a pistol-shot within: a noise of a mill._

Had not my love, like a kind branch Of some o'erlooking tree, catch'd thee, Thou'dst fallen, never to look upon the world again.

ANT. What shall I offer to my life's preserver?

AUR. Only thy heart, crown'd with a wreath of love.

Which I will ever keep; and in exchange Deliver mine.

ANT. Thus I deliver: in this kiss receive't.

AUR. In the same form Aurelia yields up hers.

[_A noise._

ANT. What noise is that?

AUR. I fear my father.

ANT. What's to be done?

AUR. Through the back-ward, of which I have The key, we'll suddenly make 'scape; Then in two gowns, of which I am provided, We'll clothe ourselves, till we be pa.s.s'd all fear.

ANT. Be't as you please: 'tis my good genius' will That I obey--command; I'll follow still.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter_ PETRUCHIO _with servants_.

PET. She's gone unto her prayers; may every bead Draw down a blessing on her, that like seed May grow into a harvest: 'tis a girl My age is proud of; she's indeed the model Of her dead mother's virtues, as of shape.

Bear hence this banquet.

[_Exit with the banquet._

GIOVANNO _is discovered sleeping in the lap of_ EVADNE.

EVAD. Thou silent G.o.d, that with the leaden mace Arresteth all save those prodigious birds, That are fate's heralds to proclaim all ill; Deafen Giovanno: let no fancied noise Of ominous screech-owl's or night-raven's voice Affright his quiet senses: let his sleep Be free from horror or unruly dreams; That may beget a tempest in the streams Of his calm reason: let 'em run as smooth, And with as great a silence, as those do That never took an injury; where no wind Had yet acquaintance: but like a smooth crystal Dissolv'd into a water that ne'er frown'd, Or knew a voice but music.

_Enter_ ANTONIO _and_ AURELIA _in hermits' gowns_.

Holy hermits, for such your habits speak you, Join your prayers with a distressed virgin's, That the wits of this distracted young man may Be settled.

ANT. Sure, 'tis my sister, and that Sleeping man, Giovanno. She loves him still.

[_He wakes._

GIO. O, what a blessedness am I bereft of!

What pleasure has the least part of a minute Stolen from my eyes? methought I did embrace A brother and a friend; and both Antonio.

EVAD. Bless'd be those gentle powers that----

GIO. What, Evadne----have deceived my eyes, Take heed, Evadne, wors.h.i.+p not a dream, 'Tis of a smoky substance, and will shrink Into the compa.s.s of report that 'twas, And not reward the labour of a word.

Were it substantial! could I now but see That man of men, I'd by my practice Of religious prayers add to the calendar One holy-day, and keep it once a year.

ANT. Behold Antonio!

EVAD. Brother!

[_To_ ANTONIO.

AUR. Brother!

[_To_ GIOVANNO.

ANT. What earthquake shakes my heart!