Classic Poem

Enter D' AMVILLE and C ASTABELLA . D'am .

Daughter, you doe not well to urge me. I
Ha' done no more then Justice. Charlemont
Shall die and rot in prison, and 'tis iust. Casta .

O Father, Mercie is an attribute
As high as Justice, an essentiall part
Of his unbounded goodnesse, whose diuine
Impression, forme, and image man should beare!
And, me thinks, Man should loue to imitate
His Mercie, since the onely countenance
Of Justice were destruction, if the sweet
And louing fauour of his mercie did
Not mediate betweene it and our weaknesse. D'am .

Forbeare. You will displease me. He shall rot. Casta .

Deare Sir, since by your greatnesse you
Are nearer heau'n in place, be nearer it
In goodnesse. Rich men should transcend the poore
As clouds the Earth, rais'd by the comfort of
The Sunne to water dry and barren grounds.
If neither the impression in your soule
Of goodnesse, nor the dutie of your place
As goodnesse substitute can moue you, then
Let nature which in Sauages, in beasts
Can stirre to pittie, tell you that hee is
Your kinsman. — D'am .

You expose your honestie
To strange construction. Why should you so urge
Release for Charlemont? Come, you professe
More nearenesse to him then your modestie
Can answere. You haue tempted my suspition.
I tell thee hee shall starue, and dye, and rot.

Enter C HARLEMONT and S EBASTIAN . Charl .

Uncle, I thanke you. D'am .

Much good do it you. — Who did release him? Seba .

I. D'am .

You are a villaine Seba .

Y'are my Father. D'am .

I must temporize. —
Nephew, had not his open freedome made
My disposition knowne, I would ha' borne
The course and inclination of my loue
According to the motion of the Sunne,
Inuisibly injoyed and understood. Charl .

That showes your good works are directed to
No other end then goodnesse. I was rash,
I must confesse. But — D'am .

I will excuse you.
To lose a Father and, as you may thinke,
Be disinherited, it must be graunted
Are motiues to impatience. But for death,
Who can auoide it? And for his estate
In the uncertaintie of both your liues
'Twas done discreetly to confer 't upon
A knowne Successour being the next in bloud.
And one, deare Nephew, whom in time to come
You shall haue cause to thanke. I will not be
Your dispossessour but your Gardian.
I will supply your Father's vacant place
To guide your greene improuidence of youth,
And make you ripe for your inheritance. Charl.

Sir, I embrace your gen'rous promises.

Enter R OUSARD sicke and C ASTABELLA . Rousa .

Embracing! I behold the obiect that
Mine eye affects. Deere Cosin Charlemont D'am .

My elder Sonne! He meetes you happily.
For with the hand of our whole family
We enterchange th' indenture of our Loues. Charl .

And I accept it. Yet not so ioyfully
Because y'are sicke. D'am .

Sir, his affection's sound
Though hee be sicke in body. Rousa .

Sicke indeede.
A gen'rall weakenesse did surprise my health
The very day I married Castabella.
As if my sicknesse were a punishment
That did arrest me for some iniurie
I then committed. Credit me, my Loue,
I pittie thy ill fortune to be match'd
With such a weake, unpleasing bedfellow. Casta .

Beleeue me, Sir, it neuer troubles me,
I am as much respectlesse to enioy
Such pleasure, as ignorant what it is. Charl .

Thy Sexe's wonder. Unhappy Charlemont! D'am .

Come, let's to supper. There we will confirme
The eternall bond of our concluded loue.