Five new plays ... as they were acted by His Majesty's servants at the Theatre-Royal / written by the Honourable Sir Robert Howard.

The Honble. Sr. Robert Howard .

FIVE NEW PLAYS , VIZ. Comedies . The Surprisal , The Committee , AND Tragedies . The Indian-Queen , The Vestal-Virgin , The Duke of Lerma , As they were Acted by His MAJESTY's Servants at the Theatre-Royal . Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD .

The Second Edition Corrected .

LONDON , Printed for Henry Herringman , and are to be Sold by R. Bentley , J. Tonson , F. Saunders , and T. Bennet . MDCXCII .

TO THE READER .

THere is none more sensible than I am , how great a Charity the most Ingenious may need , that expose their private Wit to a publick Judgment ; since the same Phancy from whence the Thoughts proceed , must probably be kind to its own Issue : This renders Men no perfecter Judges of their own Writings , than Fathers are of their own Children ; who find out that Wit in them which another discerns not , and see not those Errors which are evident to the unconcern'd . Nor is this self-kindness more fatal to Men in their Writings , than in their Actions ; every Man being a greater Flatterer to himself than he knows how to be to another ; otherwise it were impossible that things of such distant Natures shou'd find their own Authors so equally kind in their affections to them , and Men so different in Parts and Virtues , should rest equally contented in their own Opinions .

This Apprehension , added to that greater which I have of my own Weakness , may I hope incline the Reader to believe me , when I assure him that these Follies were made publick as much against my Inclination as Judgment : But being pursu'd with so many Sollicitations of Mr Herringman 's , and having receiv'd Civilities from him , if it were possible , exceeding his Importunities ; I at last yielded to prefer that which he believ'd his Interest , before that which I apprehended my own Disadvantage : Considering withal , That he might pretend it would be a real Loss to him , and could be but an imaginary Prejudice to me ; since things of this nature , though never so excellent or never so mean , have seldom prov'd the Foundation of Mens new-built Fortunes , or the Ruine of their old ; it being the Fate of Poetry , though of no other good Parts , to be wholly separated from Interest ; and there are few that know me but will easily believe I am not much concern'd in an unprofitable Reputation . This clear account I have given the Reader of this seeming Contradiction , to offer that to the World which I dislike my self ; and in all things I have no greater an ambition than to be believ'd a Person that would rather be unkind to my self , than ungrateful to others .

I have made this excuse for my self , I offer none for my Writings , but freely leave the Reader to condemn that which has receiv'd my Sentence already . Yet I shall presume to say something in the justification of our Nation 's Plays , though not of my own ; since in my Judgment , without being partial to my Country , I do really prefer our Plays as much before any other Nations , as I do the best of ours before my own .

The manner of the Stage-Entertainments have differ'd in all Ages ; and as it has encreas'd in use , it has enlarg'd it self in business : The general manner of Plays among the Ancients we find in Seneca's Tragedies for serious Subjects , and in Terence and Plautus for the Comical ; in which latter we see some pretences to Plots , though certainly short of what we have seen in some of Mr Johnson 's Plays ; and for their Wit , especially Plautus , I suppose it suited much better in those days than it would do in ours ; for were their Plays strictly Translated , and Presented on our Stage , they would hardly bring as many Audiences as they have now Admirers .

The serious Plays were anciently compos'd of Speeches and Chorus's , where all things are related , but no matter of Fact presented on the Stage : This Pattern the French do at this time nearly follow , only leaving out the Chorus , making up their Plays with almost entire and discoursive Scenes , presenting the business in Relations : This way has very much affected some of our Nation , who possibly believe well of it more upon the account that what the French do , ought to be a Fashion , than upon the Reason of the thing .

It is first necessary to consider why probably the Compositions of the Ancients , especially in their serious Plays , were after this manner ; and it will be found , that the Subjects they commonly chose drove them upon the necessity , which were usually the most known Stories and Fables : Accordingly , Seneca making choice of Medea , Hippolytus , and Hercules Oetus ; it was impossible to shew Medea throwing old mangled Aeson into her Age-renewing Caldron , or to present the scattered Limbs of Hippolytus upon the Stage , or shew Hercules burning upon his own Funeral Pile : And this the Judicious Horace clearly speaks of in his Arte Poetica , where he says ,

— non tamen intus Digna geri , promes in Scenam : multaque tolles Ex oculis , quae mox narret facundia praesens . Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet : Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus , Aut in avem Progne vertatur , Cadmus in anguem . Quodcunque ostendit mihi sie , incredulus odi .

So that it appears a fault to chuse such Subjects for the Stage , but much greater to affect that Method which those Subjects enforce ; and therefore the French seem much mistaken , who without the necessity sometimes commit the Error ; and this is as plainly decided by the same Author in his preceding words ;

Aut agitur res in Scenis aut acta refertur : Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem ; Quam quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus & quae Ipse sibi tradit spectator . —

By which he directly declares his Judgment , That every thing makes more impression Presented than Related : Nor indeed can any one rationally assert the contrary ; for if they affirm otherwise , they do by consequence maintain , That a whole Play might be as well Related as Acted : Therefore whoever chuses a Subject that inforces him to Relations , is to blame ; and he that does it without the necessity of the Subject , is much more .

If these Premises be granted , 't is no partiality to conclude , That our English Plays justly challenge the Preheminence ; yet I shall as candidly acknowledge , That our best Poets have differed from other Nations ( though not so happily ) in usually mingling and interweaving Mirth and Sadness through the whole Course of their Plays , Ben Johnson only excepted , who keeps himself entire to one Argument ; and I confess I am now convinc'd in my own Judgment , That it is most proper to keep the Audience in one entire disposition both of Concern and Attention ; for when Scenes of so different Natures immediately succeed one another , 't is probable the Audience may not so suddenly recollect themselves , as to start into an enjoyment of the Mirth , or into a concern for the Sadness : Yet I dispute not but the Variety of this World may afford pursuing Accidents of such different Natures ; but yet though possible in themselves to be , they may not be so proper to be Presented ; an entire Connexion being the natural Beauty of all Plays , and Language the Ornament to dress them in , which in serious Subjects ought to be great and easie , like a high-born Person that expresses Greatness without pride or affectation ; the easier dictates of Nature ought to flow in Comedy , yet separated from obsceneness , there being nothing more impudent than the immodesty of Words : Wit should be chast ; and those that have it can only write well .

Si modo — Scimus in Urbanum Lepidose ponere dicto .

Another way of the Ancients which the French follow , and our Stage has now lately practis'd , is to write in Rhime ; and this is the dispute betwixt many Ingenious Persons , Whether Verse in Rhime , or Verse without the sound , which may be called Blank Verse , ( though a hard Expression ) is to be preferred ? But take the Question largely , and it is never to be decided , but by right application I suppose it may ; for in the general they are both proper , that is , one for a Play , the other for a Poem or Copy of Verses ; a Blank Verse being as much too low for one , as Rhime is unnatural for the other : A Poem being a premeditated form of Thoughts upon design'd Occasions , ought not to he unfurnish'd of any harmony in Words or Sound : The other is presented as the present Effect of Accidents not thought of ; so that 't is impossible it should be equally proper to both these , unless it were possible that all Persons were born so much more than Poets , that Verses were not to be compos'd by them , but already made in them . Some may object , That this Argument is trivial , because , whatever is shew'd , 't is known still to be but a Play ; but such may as well excuse an ill Scene , that is not naturally painted , because they know 't is only a Scene , and not really a City or Country .

But there is yet another thing which makes Verse upon the Stage appear more unnatural ; that is , when a Piece of a Verse is made up by one that knew not what the other meant to say , and the former Verse answered as perfectly in Sound as the last is supplied in Measure ; so that the smartness of a Reply , which has its Beauty by coming from sudden Thoughts , seems lost by that which rather looks like a Design of two , than the Answer of one . It may be said , That Rhime is such a confinement to a quick and luxuriant Phancy , that it gives a stop to its speed , till slow Judgment comes in to assist it ; but this is no Argument for the Question in hand , for the dispute is not which way a Man may write best in , but which is most proper for the Subject he writes upon ; and if this were let pass , the Argument is yet unresolv'd in it self ; for he that wants Judgment in the liberty of his Phancy , may as well shew the defect of it in its Confinement ; and to say truth , he that has Judgment will avoid the errors , and he that wants it will commit them both . It may be objected , 'T is improbable that any should speak ex tempore as well as Beaumont and Fletcher makes them , though in Blank Verse ; I do not only acknowledg that , but that 't is also improbable any will write so well that way ; but if that may be allowed improbable , I believe it may be concluded impossible that any should speak as good Verses in Rhime as the best Poets have writ ; and therefore that which seems nearest to what it intends , is ever to be preferr'd : Nor are great Thoughts more adorned by Verse , than Verse unbeautified by mean ones ; so that Verse seems not only unfit in the best use of it , but much more in the worse , when a Servant is call'd , or a Door bid to be shut in Rhime . Verses ( I mean good ones ) do in their height of Phancy declare the labour that brought them forth , like Majesty that grows with care ; and Nature that made the Poet capable , seems to retire and leave its offers to be made perfect by Pains and Judgment : Against this I can raise no Argument but my Lord of Orory's Writings , in whose Verse the Greatness of the Majesty seems unsullied with the Cares , and his unimitable Phancy descends to us in such easie Expressions , that they seem as if neither had ever been added to the other , but both together flowing from a height ; like Birds got so high , that use no labouring Wings , but only with an easie care preserve a steddiness in Motion : But this particular Happiness , among those multitudes which that excellent Person is Owner of , does not convince my Reason , but employ my Wonder : Yet I am glad such Verse has been writ for our Stage , since it has so happily exceeded those whom we seem'd to imitate . But while I give these Arguments against Verse , I may seem faulty that I have not only writ ill ones , but writ any ; but since it was the fashion , I was resolv'd , as in all indifferent things , not to appear singular , the danger of the Vanity being greater than the Error ; and therefore I followed it as a Fashion , though very far off .

For the Italian Plays , I have seen some of them which have been given me as the best ; but they are so inconsiderable , that the Particulars of them are not at all worthy to entertain the Reader ; but as much as they are short of others in this , they exceed in their other Performances on the Stage ; I mean their Opera's , which consisting of Musick and Painting , there 's none but will believe it is much harder to equal them in that way , than 't is to excel them in the other .

The Spanish Plays pretend to more , but indeed are not much , being nothing but so many Novels put into Acts and Scenes , without the least attempt or design of making the Reader more concern'd than a well-told Tale might do ; whereas a Poet that endeavours not to heighten the Accidents which Fortune seems to scatter in a well-knit Design , had better have told his tale by a Fire-side , than presented it on a Stage .

For these times wherein we write , I admire to hear the Poets so often cry out upon , and wittily ( as they believe ) threaten their Judges , since the effects of their Mercy have so much exceeded their Justice , that others with me cannot but remember how many favourable Audiences some of our ill Plays have had ; and when I consider how severe the former age has been to some of the best of Mr Johnson's never to be equal'd Comedies , I cannot but wonder why any Poet should speak of former times , but rather acknowledge that the want of Abilities in this Age is largely supply'd with the Mercies of it . I deny not but there are some who resolve to like nothing ; and such perhaps are not unwise , since by that general resolution they may be certainly in the right sometimes , which perhaps they would seldom be , if they should venture their Understandings in different Censures ; and being forc'd to a general liking or disliking , lest they should discover too much their own Weakness , 't is to be expected they would rather chuse to pretend to Judgment than good Nature , tho' I wish they could find better ways to shew either .

But I forget my self , not considering , That while I entertain the Reader in the Entrance with what a good Play should be , when he is come beyond the Entrance he must be treated with what ill Plays are : but in this I resemble the greatest part of the World , that better know how to talk of things than to perform them , and live short of their own Discourses .

And now I seem like an eager Hunter , that has long pursu'd a Chase after an inconsiderable Quarry , and gives over weary , as I do .

THE SURPRISAL , A COMEDY . Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD .

LONDON , Printed for Henry Herringman , and are to be Sold by R. Bentley , J. Tonson , F. Saunders , and T. Bennet . M DC XCII .

Dramatis Personae . CAstruccio , Uncle to Miranzo . Miranzo . Cialto , Friend to Miranzo the late General . Brancadoro , A rich Senator's Son . Villerotto , A bold Fellow cashier'd by Cialto , and got into Brancadoro's Service . Moreno , Father to Emilia . Bottolo , His Servant . Two or three Bravoes . Baptista , Servant to Miranzo . A Friar . WOMEN . Samira , Sister to Miranzo . Emilia . Taccola , Her Governess . A Nun.

Scene SIENNA .

PROLOGUE . SInce you expect a Prologue , we submit : But let me tell you , this Excise on Wit , Though undiscern'd , consumes the Stock so fast , That no new Fancy will be left at last . Wit 's not like Money ; Money though paid in Passes about , and is receiv'd agen : But Wit when it has once been paid before , There it lies dead , 't is currant then no more . Nor must we plead for what we do present , As in Law-Cases , by a Prcedent : Poets and Mountebanks in this strange Age Practise with equal hopes upon the Stage ; For 't is expected they shou'd both apply To every Humour some new Remedy : And one's as likely every man to please , As t'other to cure every man's Disease . — But you are welcom all ; and what men say Before a Feast , will ▪ serve before a Play : Here 's nothing you can like : Thus he that writes Or makes a Feast , more certainly invites His Judges than his Friends ; there 's not a Guest But will find something wanting or ill drest . The Proverb but thus varied serves I fear ; Fools make the Plays , and Wise-men come to hear .

THE SURPRISAL .

ACT I.

SCENE I. Enter Miranzo and Samira . Mir.

T IS strange , Sister .

Sam.

'T is true , Brother .

Mir.

Perhaps it is ; but few such Wonders have been heard of .

Sam.

Nor ever such a Wonder caus'd it .

Mir.

There needs indeed a powerful Charm to raise up Spirits fettered long in Age. ( They say , that ) Love is the Soul's business here , when Youth seems to promise it shall have a long share in Time ; but his is fitted for its Journey ; Age already hath pack'd up all his Faculties .

Sam.

Fie , fie , 't is otherwise with him ; he endeavours , nay , and ( I think ) believes he shall grow young again : the warmth of Love serves for the heat of Youth .

Mir.

Where ( in the name of wonder ) could this Love find entrance in his breast ? or how live there ? it has no blood to feed on ; Nature sure in him is at low ebb .

Sam.

There needs small Fewel ( Brother ) to assist her influence ; she like the Sun , warms all things with her sight , yet is not wasted with expence of heat .

Mir.

You speak a Miracle , Sister . —

He studies . Sam.

— You seem troubled , Brother .

Mir.

Not much — but — I did believe , when my dear Father left us to his care , he did not apprehend my Uncle apt for such a folly ; and I little thought to have been first saluted with this News at my return from Travel .

Sam.

My Uncle still pretends to remain just to us ; and I believe he will .

Mir.

It may be so : But when is this hot Lover to be married ?

Sam.

Tomorrow morning .

Mir.

But what mov'd her consent to take this Mummy in her Ams ?

Sam.

She 's all obedience to her Father , and with him my Uncle's Wealth pleads high . I do believe she thinks choice were a sin , and would seem guilty to her self , as if she fell from perfect Innocence , if that a partial thought for any should make a way for passion in her breast .

Mir.

Then it seems her Father wooes ; I hope my Uncle spares his pains . — But Sister , since we are in discourse of Lovers , 't is not unseasonable to ask for yours , the brave Cialto ; the last Intelligence I had was of his glorious Victory ; such a Lawrel ne'r yet adorn'd a Brow so youthful . Believe me , Sister , though you may be cruel , and unconcern'd , I must confess I share in all that 's his good fortune .

Sam.

Alas , Brother , since that time his condition is much alter'd .

Mir.

Ha — you amaze me : — Why do you appear so sad ? He is not dead I hope .

Sam.

No , perhaps his Life is now the greatest part of his misfortune .

Mir.

Still I am lost in admiration . What changes a little time produceth ?

Sam.

The Story is too long to tell you ; only for what concerns my self , I have observ'd , that since the loss of all his Fortunes , he shuns all occasions of seeing me . — My Uncle will be with us presently ; I would not therefore ingage my self in a disorder , which the relation of his miseries cannot but bring upon me .

Mir.

Where is my Uncle ?

Sam.

Abroad upon a strange design . He has imploy'd the best Wits in Sienna to make a Song , or indeed an Apology , for his doting at these years ; and that which he likes best when he salutes his Mistress , must to morrow be presented before her Window .

Mir.

I am amaz'd ; yet I 'le suspend my thoughts and trouble ( if I can ) till fitter time .

Sam. See , Brother , where he comes ; Bus'ness and Love are mingled in his postures . Enter Castruccio . Mir.

How he mumbles to himself ! sure he does chew the cud of some set Speech . What an amorous look was there ? — with that amiable smile ? — which only adds a few wrinkles in new places .

Sam.

Pray let 's stand close ; He 's near beginning ; a rising wind you know is ever usher'd with a murmur .

Cast.

How am I swell'd by expectation ! as the day breaks before the rising Sun , so is Emilia's fair approach prepar'd within me , by a precious sense of happiness .

He studies and searches his Pockets for Papers . Sam.

Peace ; he has hit a fault , and now begins to hunt again .

Cast.

O , these be they ; now to my choice ; for I resolve to morrow , 'fore the Wedding , one of them shall be sung , that which I judge will best describe my Passion . — Let me see , —

Could'st thou be yet more fair or good ,

He reads .

This Fool begins with impossibilities ,

I le have none on 't : — What this other ?

Since fancy makes all Women fair , —

Worse and worse , he lies abominably : What ways are our Poets got into , they cannot make a Song without a Lie , a Vapour , or Impossibility ? There 's none of these has hit my fancy yet : Once again . — Oh , this I like well ; a very pretty Masque , short , and full of variety ; the Charges wont to be great , — let me see , — here is a Hymen , a Cupid , a Charon , and the Destinies : for the Hymen a saffron Robe and a Torch , — hang cost at such a time ; it shall be presented instead of a Song before her Window , when I first appear ; 't is better than after the Wedding at night , when every body 's sleepy . Now I 'le go see my Nephew , and bid him welcome from his Travels .

Sam.

Step out , Brother , there 's your Cue .

Mir.

Can these Lovers see , trow ?

Cast.

My dear Nephew I — were thy brave Father living , thou could'st not fill his Arms and Breast with a more welcome joy ; I 'le be sworn thou art return'd with all advantages in Fame and Person .

Mir.

Your kindness , Sir , sees more in me than your Eyes .

Cast.

Nay , believe me , Nephew , I joy in 't ; and that I could not do , were it not visible what cause I have sor't .

Mir.

I wish I may continue , Sir , worthy your fair Opinion .

Cast.

And how , Man ? Merry still ?

Mir.

I take nothing to heart , Sir ; It seems you do ; for my Sister tells me , I am come seasonably to see your Joys made perfect every way , at least as you imagine .

Cast.

Oh , Nephew , 't is past Imagination . Nephew , thou canst not phancy what she is ; in Woman kind no president is found to shew thee her : But you it seems do apprehend that all my future Actions will shew me more her Husband than your Uncle .

Mir.

You mistake me , Sir ; neither my Nature nor my Fortunes yet are prest with such mean thoughts ; what I have said was more my care for you than for my self ; I would not have your last days shut up with Folly or Misfortune .

Cast.

Fear not , fear not ; I must be happy ; it is an injury to her to doubt it .

Mir.

He is unreasonably possess'd .

Aside . Cast.

But I forget — My dearest Niece , you shall perceive that neither my concerns nor passion hinder my just care of thee , my best Samira . I have provided such a Fortune for you ;

Samira starts .

Nay , start not at it . — 'T is the rich Heir , young Brancadoro ; this day he comes to visit thee , we 'l quickly make it up . — Come , good Nephew , I have much to do ; within I 'll tell thee all my mind .

Sam.

How —

Mir.

Peace , Sister .

Ex. Castruccio and Miranzo . Sam.

Marry Brancadoro ! Is that the happiness I hope , I may depend ? I shall enjoy with him the Curses of his ill-got Wealth , and rise upon the poor Cialto's ruins . Oh what a Crime was my feign'd Cruelty ! Me thinks I am as guilty as this thriving Asses Father , and seem an accessary to all Cialto's wrongs , because I did not openly declare my Passion for him ; that would have rendred me uncapable of being now a Party : It is too much .

That poor Cialto at one time should find Both me and Fortune equally unkind . Exit . Enter Brancadoro and Tayler . Tay.

Morrow to your Honour ; how do you like your Cloths ?

Bran.

I like my Cloths well enough , but my Man Jocamo says , you are such a dear cheating kind of Tayler , that I vow he 'll have me turn you away ; my last Mourning Suit did not cost me half so much .

Tayl.

Your Man is a pick-thank Knave . Call me Cheat ! I 'll ne'r work stitch for ye more as long as I live , unless you pay me for calling me Cheat.

Bran.

Nay , stay , stay ; what a devilish Fellow are you now to exact upon me , because you see I love you ? The Devil take you for me ; what Composition must you have ?

Tayl.

I 'll have forty shillings , and I 'll have it in Gold too .

Bran.

Pox take you for me ; will not Silver serve your turn , when you know I love Gold so well ? Pray ye heartily , now Jack , take Silver .

Tayl.

I vow Gold , or fare you well .

Bran.

Stay , and be hang'd then ; here , here ; now are you good Friends , Jack ? nay , I vow now speak truth .

Tayl.

Yes , I vow I forgive you

Enter Man . Bran.

Look ye here 's my Man . What a devilish Rogue are you to rail at my Taylor Robin , and say he cheats me ?

Serv.

Pray Sir view his Bill ; in the first place here is fifteen Shillings a Yard for Stuff of half a Crown .

Bran.

Why look ye there now Jack ; what a strange Rogue are you now to cheat me so ?

Tayl.

What a strange piece of Ignorance is your Man , to call it Stuff ? I protest my Lord 't is o' th' same piece that the King of France his Wedding Suit was on ; the Stuff is call'd Adam man hee ; King Haccamantacu sent the King of France three pieces of it ; and I bought this of his Tayler a purpose for you ; and your wise Man calls it Stuff , forsooth .

Bran.

Look you there now , you blockheadly Fool you ; what would you more ? prethee how do ye call the Stuff , and the King that sent it , Jack .

Tayl.

The Stuff is call'd Adam man hee , and the Kings Name is Haccamantacu .

Serv.

What a Mountebank Rogue is this ?

Bran.

I vow that 's fair satisfaction ; I wou'd not for my Money but know this ; I vow , I vow , 't is very pretty .

Serv.

Pray ye ask him why he sets down forty Shillings for making a riding Coat .

Bran.

Nay , but I vow , Jack , the Devil take ye for me , for being so base ; why forty shillings now ?

Tayl.

There is ten Shillings for making your Coat , and thirty Shillings for a Port-hole for your Sword to peep out at .

Bran.

Why , is not that very fair now ? Why , art thou grown a stark Fool now ? Prethee , Jack , what is a Port-hole ? I vow thou hast the pretriest Names .

Tayl.

A Port-hole is , as the vulgar have it , a kind of Slit ; but in France it is call'd Port-hole , and is made with a whiff down here , and a whiff down there ; they are very chargeable .

Bran.

I vow , thou art a pretty Fellow : but has the King of France his Port-hole made with a whiff down here , and a whiff down there , as mine is ?

Enter Villerotto .

But here 's Villerotto ; I vow I must talk

A little wiser to him .

Ex. Tayler and Servant .

How dost thou like my Cloths , Villerotto ; are they not brave , fit for my quality ?

Vil.

Exceeding brave , Sir .

Bran.

I long'd to be out of Mourning , to shew my self ; for whilst my Father liv'd I never could appear .

Vil.

No , he was asham'd you shou'd .

Aside . Bran.

Besides , I hate this Mourning , it makes my hands so devilish dirty ; and I will not wash them till my Mother dies ; and when I have done Mourning for her , I 'll wash them for good and all . — Well , and what says my Council ?

Vil.

Why , they say , Sir by these Writings Cialto has no justice to redeem , nor can it bear dispute in any Court of Equity .

Bran. Why , this 't is to have a wise Father ; As he has order'd it , 't is not a Farthing matter If I were an arrant Ass. Thou saist , my Council says , There 's no relief can now be had . Vill.

None , Sir , — but by the Senate .

Bran. That were fine i'faith , To save him they had a mind to ruine , Which my Father help'd to do ( Peace be with him ) And dy'd when he had done ; two Courtesies at once . Vill. But suppose , Sir , the Senate wants his Conduct , They can be kind again on such occasions . Only the obeying part of Men Observe the rules of Honour in their Friendship . They can as quickly too produce the sum , And compel you to give him up his Land . Bran.

But they won't , I hope .

Vill.

So do I ; but how if such a thing shou'd be ?

Bran. Pish , pish , they 'l not displease me , They use to borrow money of my Father ; Yet for all that , it puts me just in such a sudden sweat As the stumbling of my Horse uses to do . Vill. I shall hardly work him to 't . — Aside . But , Sir , 't is not amiss to talk of things That may be ; Plots of prevention are not made Extempore ; nor is haste a Friend to Counsel : Besides , I take it , You go the ready way to make Cialto Yet more your Enemy . Bran.

How so ?

Vill. You are about to rob him of his Mistress , The fair Samira ; what kindness can you expect , When you possess at once his Love and Fortunes ? Enter Messenger . Bran.

What care I. — How now ? — what 's your business ?

Mess. Signior Castruccio , Sir , presents his Service to you , And has by me sent you a Counter-part Of the Writings which concern your Marriage . Bran.

Oh , I thank him ; 't is very well .

Vill. How 's this ? it seems strange to me , You should agree with him , and never ask The Ladies free consent . Bran. Why , dost thou think I need doubt that ? Would any Woman be so simple to refuse me ? Why Man , there have been many of them have fallen Stark mad for me at first sight . Vill.

Will it not be dangerous for you to go ?

Bran.

Whither ?

Vill.

To visit your Mistress ? you may meet Cialto there .

Bran.

Let him be afraid of me if he will .

Vill.

I doubt he will not .

Bran. I am told the pittiful Fellow dares not come near her now ; This 't is to be poor : And I go boldly ; This 't is to be rich . Vill. But if he should hear you were like to have her , It might perhaps move him — Bran.

To what ?

Vill.

To cut your Throat .

Bran. Let him be hang'd : But if Signior Castruccio Admit such Russians in his House , Pll send her word Flatly , Pll have nothing to do with her . Vill. But your Writings and Covenants , — You can't in honour break them . Bran. I care not ; who dares sue me ? If any do , I am rich enough to make them weary on 't ; Though I confess I like the Gentlewoman well enough . Vill.

Yet there 's another way would do your business .

Bran. Saist thou so ? nay , and there be another way , I care not if I take it , so I may do nothing Unbefitting my Estate and Quality . Vil. You 'l pardon , Sir , this liberty I take ; It springs from my affection to you ; For ever since I came into your Service , All your concernments have been mine . Bran. I do believe it , and have trusted thee With every thing ; and for my part , I have told Thee my mind , I care for any body As little as they care for me ; Thou may'st see I love thee , Otherwise I regard no body that is not richer than my self . Vill. What an insensible stock have I to work on ? Aside . But you forget what I propose , Sir . Bran. No , I do not ; 't is that I should have Samira ; Why say no more , I will have her . Vill.

You consider not the danger of Cialto's revenge .

Bran. I care not for Cialto , nor her neither ; I can let her alone , if there be such ado about her . Vill.

But you may prevent it .

Bran.

How , prethee ?

Vill. Why , if Cialto were once dead , There were no further trouble ; You might enjoy his Mistress , and his Fortune . Bran.

Wou'd he wou'd die then .

Vill.

Men do not use to do it for a wish .

Bran.

Why , how then ?

Vill.

Wou'd you hang your self if Cialto shou'd desire it ?

Bran. It may be I would , if I were as poor as he ; For this is the case , — say now — Vill. Now will he ramble again into another matter . — Aside . But , Sir , he does not think himself so poor As you imagine , while he lives in hope That what you now possess of his may once Again return ; yet if he be unwilling To depart this World , he may be forc'd . Bran.

Which way , which way ?

Vill. Why , for a little money , Instruments May be found . Bran.

To do what ?

Vill.

To kill him .

Bran. Um , that may be found out , And so good-night to my Estate . Vill. Nay , if you please , Sir , he shall live , and do you The Courtesie to cut your Throat . Bran. Talk no more , good Villerotto ; another time , Another time , and that in private too . I hope no body has heard us ; men may hear At a distance : I have heard of a Conjurer That could make a Glass for a man to look in , And hear his Enemies forty miles off . Vill.

Do you believe such stories ?

Bran. The Devil may do much , that 's certain : But for the present I am going to see my Mistress , Fair Samira ; 't is fit I shou'd see her Before I Marry her . Vill. 'T were strange if he should Marry her Before he saw her . — Aside . Why , are you near marrying her ? Bran. To morrow , man , to morrow ; her Uncle and I Make but one business on 't . Vill.

To morrow , Sir , and her leave yet unask'd !

Bran. What needs that ? her Uncle has done it for me . Thou hast the Agreements ; I must away . Exit Brancadoro . Vill. This suits with my Designs : — And yet it startles me , To have so dull a Fool to work on : But easie paths do seldom lead us to revenge ; Let them be rough , as are the ways Through troubled Seas , I 'le tread 'em . The base injury I receiv'd from Cialto , Cashiering me from my Command for a petty plunder , And a Rape ( as the Wench call'd it ) was the first cause That brought me to Brancadoro's Service , Whose Father was his mortal Enemy ; By which means I hope to find a time To right my wrongs upon Cialto's heart . Exit Villerotto . Enter Moreno , Emilia , and Bottolo : Mor. Come , my best Daughter , this day thou shalt Be made a happy Woman ; fear not , fear not , Nor look upon his age with prejudice ; Age is far steadier than Youth , Emilia ; He 'l never make thee jealous . Bot.

No more than an Eunuch wou'd , I dare swear for him .

Aside . Emil. You speak , Sir , as if you thought me alter'd , Or else as if I still had been an Hypocrite ; But truly , Sir , you need not doubt me , I do believe I shall be happy with him , Because a Blessing waits upon Obedience : You might command me 'gainst my inclination , But I am bless'd with such indifference , That 't is no trial of my Duty , Sir , To give my free consent . Mor. That 's my best Girl ; get thy self ready , The Bride-groom's near at hand ; I must about , There 's nothing done if I be not at their elbows . Exit Moreno . Bot. The Devil had as good be there . Why , how is it , Mistress ? Emil.

Very well , Bottolo , I thank you .

Bot.

I wish it may continue so , Mistress .

Emil.

Dost thou fear I shall be sick ?

Bot. Nay , I can't tell ; it may be the Palsie Or Cough o' th' Lungs is not infectious ; You are going to venture , Mistress . Emil.

What dost thou talk of ?

Bot. Why , of that which is nothing else But talk , of Old Age ; Sure , Mistress , it will never agree with you ; Has not your Father perswaded you Y' are above Fifty ? And that you were born Before the Battle of Lepanto ? Emil.

Why should he do that ?

Bot. Why , 't were convenient he should Either perswade you , that you were old , or That Castruccio were young . Emil.

Away , you Fool.

Bot. Well , Mistress , hang me if ever frosty day Did well at Fruit-time ; for my part , I wonder The old Gentleman has no more Conscience Than to marry you — If I were worthy to advise you , Mistress , — Emil.

Peace , you Fool , and be not rude .

Exit Emilia . Bot. Go thy way . — I am half perswaded Thou art no Woman , or at least Thou dost not know thou art one , More than by thy Petticoats . — Well , — If thou art pleas'd , thanks to the Powers Divine ; For my own Cares I 'le try the power of Wine . Exit .

ACT II.

SCENE I. Enter Miranzo and Cialto . Mir. I Should not thank you for this Visit then . — Fie , my dearest Friend . Cialto . Forget that Name , and me ; I try'd To begin first no more to think on you ; But 〈◊〉〈◊〉〈◊〉 in my temper ; My fondness of you had a power above My generous Reason . Mir.

Is there a generous Cause for breach of Friendship ?

Cial. It were a guilt to say I am your Friend : Wonder not ; for I 'm grown so miserable That Friendship would be paid to me As unseasonably as to Men in graves , Where dissolution wraps up every Title , And buries Names with Things . Mir. What storm tosses his noble Soul ! Aside . Why does my Friend thus wrong himself and me ? I 〈◊〉〈◊〉 think the brave Cialto's Mind Had been so much within the reach of Fortune ; Use her as thou would'st a fantastical Woman , If thou would have her kind , slight her . Cial. Pray say no more ; you understand me not ; Nay , spare your Lectures ; after this I fear That we must meet no more . — Farewel . Cialto offers to go out . Mir. You are too quick ; think with your self ; Sure you may be perswaded , e're you go , To see my Sister . Cial. Ha! — that was too severe ; departing Souls Are sometimes thus call'd back with cruel kindness , To share more miseries on Earth . — Did you not name your Sister ? Mir. How he 's mov'd ! — Aside . Yes , I did ; my Sister Samira . Cial. You might have spar'd the Explanation ; I have her Name engrav'd in several Characters , By Love and Fortune . — Why do you stare upon me so , As if you were amaz'd at my disorders , That are not ignorant of my disasters , Nor of my Passions ? What do you think ? Is 't not a pretty mingle ? Enter Samira . Mir.

See , my Sister .

Cial. How , Samira ! — 't is she . — With what an horror now that lovely Shape Appears , that I have so much joy'd to gaze on ! Such a confusion would an Angel bring Upon a Man loaden with Sins , As I am with Misfortunes . — I am so much amaz'd I cannot find my way ! He offers to go . Sam.

Cialto .

Mir. Stay ; what means this strangeness ? Come , 't is too much forc'd . Cial. Cruel Miranzo , cruel in your kindness , That only holds so fair a Mirrour to me , To let me see how much I am unhappy . Mir. You are mistaken , and throw a blemish on her ; She is the same she ever was . Cial. Why , that was cruel still to me . I complain'd not , fairest Samira , That you were so , when I was Fortune's Favorite ; And sure I will not hope for pity , Now I am turn'd her Slave . Sam. As my thoughts were never mov'd With Arguments drawn from Prosperity ; so believe , I shall have no aversion for the Virtuous , Although Unfortunate . Cial. Oh , do not with mistaken Charity Attempt to palliate my Disease ; 'T is Fortune's Plague , that 's never to be cur'd ; I shall infect those I come near , — and yet — I love you still — above — all — I have such Tides of Passions when I but name you , Much more now I see you , that my words Are over-slown , and like drown'd men Disorderly pop up , and sink agen . Distempers seize me , — I talk wildly too , I fear . Sam. I understand you not ; pray recollect Your self , speak freely to me . She weeps . Cial. Why do you both express such wonder in your looks ? Is misery so strange ? He sinks down . Mir. Why , Sister , you are still insensible ; If you ever lov'd Cialto , tell him now ; And be not like the rest of the mean World , To own nothing that is unhappy . Sam. If I say little , Brother , I give you leave To think my grief stops more my words , Than want of kindness for Cialto : Yet to content you , hear me — He starts up . Cial. Hold — Your pity , if y 'ave any , comes too late ; Those gentle Tears that once had been my Blessing Do now but aggravate and haste my destiny . Just so the drops of Heaven , which first caus'd The thriving Plant to spring and flourish , When by some rough and fatal accident Its shaken roots have lost their hold , Then the soft rain no longer gives it life , But makes it perish faster . Sam. Oh my heart ! The throng of all his griefs Has crowded in my Breast , and I must speak Or burst . — Cialto . Enter a Servant . Serv.

Sir .

Mir.

What 's the matter ?

Serv. Your Uncle , Sir , is coming hither , And with him Signior Brancadoro . Mir. Signior Coxcomb — Mischief on his unseasonable Visit. Has not my Uncle press'd you , Sister , To morrow when he Weds , to Marry with This Fool Brancadoro ? Sam.

Most earnestly , even to threatning me .

Mir.

he may be injurious . —

Studies . Cial. How ! would the Fool purchase my Love , As his damn'd griping Father did my Fortune ? I have not mortgag'd sure my Wishes to him . If I am urg'd this way I shall grow weary Of politick patience , nor with tired hopes Wait longer the false Senates leisure . — Still ador'd Samira , am I not too confident , That in all my miseries , when I do not nourish the least hope Of e're enjoying you my self , I should now seem jealous of you . Sam. Have I shew'd my self so easie , that you need fear I will be sacrific'd unto a Fool ? Mir.

Peace , they come ; be temperate , Cialto .

Enter Castruccio , and Brancadoro . Cast.

Come , Nephew , ( for so I dare venture to call you . )

Mir.

Heaven send us joy of our wise Kindred .

Aside . Bran. Ha , upon my conscience that 's Cialto ; I know him by his fierce looks ; 't is he , I vow : I am like to have a fine wooing on 't . Wou'd I were hid under a Bed , Or behind the Hangings , I wou'd breath No more than a Mouse that sleeps all the Winter . Why , wh , what a terrible look was there ! D'hear , Uncle ? I protest I left one of my Gloves Behind me in the Window , and I 'm afraid It will be stoll'n . Cast.

Why , you have them both on .

Bran.

I had forgot , like an Ass as I was , to hide one .

Aside . Cast.

Come , come on .

Bran. Nay , as I am an honest Man , There 's my Almanack with Notes and Memorandums in 't , I 'll go back and come presently . Cast.

Fie , Nephew , my Niece sees you .

Bran.

You an 't tell how she likes me , can you , Uncle ?

Cast.

O , fear not that .

Bran. Never stir , Uncle , I have mighty need — — I must needs do you know what . He looks vengeance surley : Aside . He makes me wink as bad as a flash of Lightning wou'd . Cast. Come , Nephew , what are you bashful ? Niece , this is the Person I told you of , That to morrow will make you an happy Woman , And be an evidence of my care and kindness . Sam.

I need no such testimony , Sir .

Bran. What does she say , Uncle , that she has no need of me ? Why then I have no need of her ; I 'll be beholden to no body living . Cast. No , no , you are too mistrustful . Come , Niece , prepare against to morrow , To be made Mistress of the greatest Fortune Sienna boasts of . Bran. I think I can tell some few particulars without Book , Of some small Lordships that serve my turn To cover this poor out-side , and some slight Equipage of Servants and Attendants . — Now dare not I proceed to particulars , for fear Aside . I should come to name that wild-looking Mans Estate , Which shou'd make up the Catalogue . I 'll tell you a pretty Jest , Mistress ; A Friend of mine would have had me married A Kinswoman of his , — and — Sam.

I wou'd you had , Sir .

Bran.

Why , how shou'd I have had you then ?

Sam.

I must have been content , Sir .

Bran. Nay , I thank you for that ; so I might have forfeited My Covenants to your Uncle ; I may be sued If I don't marry you to morrow . Cial.

How 's this !

Aside . Mir.

Peace , does this Coxcomb move you ?

Cast.

'T is as he tells you , Niece .

Sam. I wonder , Sir , you should dispose of me so absolutely , Without allowing me some larger time . Cast.

You had need consider indeed for such a Fortune .

Sam. Is there nothing but Fortune to be thought on ? Consent springs not alone from Wealth : Marriage you know admits no separation ; And if Affections shou'd not be united , The Persons must be miserable . Cast. Hey day , no more of this Love-Logick : What , you would have it a Romance , And after some long time , and strange Adventures , Discover pity for your Knight Errant . Remember , your Father left you to my care ; If you marry not Brancadoro to morrow , I 'll throw you out of it . Sam. 'T is strange , Sir , that you shou'd press me thus , So suddenly to dispose my self for ever . What say you , Sir ? I hope you are so civil To Brancadoro . As not to urge it . Bran.

Why , I say , A bargain 's a bargain .

Cial.

This is monstrous ! I can hold no longer .

Aside . Mir.

Consider , you may do hurt .

Cial. I care not — Signior Castruccio , I think it does not much become you To force your Niece to any thing ; Her Father ne'r believ'd that you would use The Trust which he repos'd in you , to such an end . Bran. Nay , for my part , if she be'nt as willing as I , A sig for her , and you too . — I am horribly afraid . Aside . Mir.

How the Ass shakes and bristles both together .

Aside . Cast. Signior Cialto , I wonder more that you Shou'd give your unask'd Counsel , to disturb The Advancement of my Niece and Family . Cial. He can make large Jointures indeed , Thanks to his Father's base and griping practices . Cast.

You are uncivil in my House .

Cial. You are old , and Samira's Uncle ; These are Protections ; you may say any thing : But I would not advise this wealthy Coxcomb , For all your Articles , to venture upon Marriage ; 'T will be dangerous , Signior Brancadoro . Cast. Pray leave my House , Sir ; I desire no such Rude Company . Sam.

Pray , Sir , go ; this does no good .

Mir.

Come , you are to blame ; you may do injury .

Cial. Pardon me , fair Samira , I am gone ; My Prayers were heard , could but your happiness Be divided from all Mankind , though I am one . Exit Cialto . Bran. He 's gone ; — wou'd I might never live If I han't a great mind to bolt the door after him . Now perhaps I shall venture to say something , If I knew what . — He won't pop back trow , will he ? Cast. Come , Niece , you will hereafter thank me for This happiness ; I know you will command Him and his whole Estate . Bran. Nay , she may do what she will in reason ; But if I 'm urg'd I am as stout and surly As the stoutest of 'em , let it be Man or Woman . This Gentleman thought to bluster me Out of my Bargain ; but I think he was deceiv'd ; He had best let me alone . Mir.

Seem to comply , dear Sister ; I 'll tell you why hereafter .

Aside . Sam. I hope , Sir , you will allow me a few hours To think , perhaps to perswade my self To an obedience which you press so much . Cast. Do , my good Niece ; for to morrow I must needs have your Company : Speak for your self , Nephew . Bran. I can't tell what to say , for fear This 〈…〉 Fellow shou'd peep in again : Aside . Yet I 'll set a good face on 't . Did you know my Father , Mistress ? Who 's that at Door ? Aside . Sam.

I have seen him , Sir .

Bran. I doubt he listens ; — well , I care not , I am resolv'd Villerotto shall get his Throat cut , Aside . That he shall . — And now I will speak boldly . Why , Mistress , he would have been your Father-in-law , Had he liv'd to 't , I had help'd you to a wise Father , I can tell you that . Mir.

Wou'd he had had a wiser Son .

Aside . Bran.

As for my Mothers part —

Mir.

She brought forth an Ass.

Aside . Bran. I 'll speak a bold word , Though I say it , that shou'd not say it , — Sam. You promis'd , Sir , to leave me to my thoughts For a few hours . Cast. Well Virgins will be modest ; Come , Nephew , We 'll leave her to her self to day ; to morrow She shall be yours , or mine no more . Your Brother , I hope , is more sensible than you Of your own good ; you know my mind ; Farewel , — Be wise . Bran. Your Uncle gives you good Counsel , Mistress ; Farewel till to morrow ; In the mean time I 'll go find Villerotto ; I dare not for my ears venture to marry , Unless he makes safe this furious Cialto , Then I shall keep all quietly , Or else I may perhaps be invited to an honourable Duel , Which how I can endure — Cast. Farewel , Niece , and prepare to make Your self and me truly happy Exeunt Castruccio and Brancadoro . Sam. Now , Brother , to what purpose Did you advise me to seem willing ? Mir. I have some thoughts which only want of time Yet hinders me to ripen ; I like not My Uncle's picking Quarrels thus , all 's in his power , He may do mischief ; therefore seem to consent ; Yet fear not , though the Wedding is so near , At the last Minute I know a way to free thee ; Within I 'll tell thee my design : This Mushroom never shall be yok'd to thee . Exeunt .

SCENE II. Enter Brancadoro and Villerotto ; They whisper . Vill. Now , Sir , do you yet believe it is a consequence , That you must not expect to live , if proud Cialto does ? Or wou'd you have the Parish Priest to make you Friends , And all the Neighbourhood invited to the reconciling dinner ? Bran. Why thou seest I look'd thee out for the nonce To know if thou canst have him quickly dispatch'd ; Why Man , I cannot marry else . Vill. Well , be secure , reckon that insolent Enemy To your Repose and Fortunes , in his Grave : Enter Montalto and his Companions . — But see , Sir — yonder are an odd parcel of Men , I think I have seen the face of one of them before ; If I mistake not , they are a sort of People Fitted by their own wants for my designs . Retire , Sir , and leave me to sound them . As he goes out he returns and speaks . Bran. But be sure , Man ; be sure , I say : If thou should'st miss , and Cialto find me married , — Um — I might give my life for a farthing . Exit Brancadoro . Vill.

Fear not , fear not . Save you , Gentlemen .

Mont.

And you , Sir .

Vill. You seem Persons that have not been So kindly us'd by Fortune as your merits Might justly challenge ; your carriage speaks you To have been Men of Action . Mont. We have seen danger , Sir , and have not shrunk ; When those that live at ease have shook to hear The Story told . Vill. 'T is pity , at least to our frail Reason it so appears , That neither Virtue nor Courage shou'd be safe From mixtures of Necessity . Mont. We are us'd as our Swords are ; When the danger 's past , hung by . Vill. And yet if such as you , whose haughty minds Brook not the sight of other Mens Enjoyments , Or think it barbarous injustice to starve Amidst that Plenty which your Swords Secur'd or purchas'd ; if such Men as you But snatch at some small share , You wou'd be punish'd certainly . Mont.

We have found that .

Vill. Nay , the Clergy wou'd declare your Souls In dangerous condition . Mont.

Yes , damn'd , without dispute .

Vill. Come we are betray'd and fool'd ; Those that have power over us Confirm themselves by Cruelty and Cheating ; One they call Justice , th' other Policy . Mean while the poor must starve , or else be whip'd ; The Souldier out of War want , or be hang'd ; Nature's relieving Laws are lost in theirs ; And she whispers unto man his own advantage ; If he be guilty then in that pursuance , The fault still cests in those that urg'd the Act ; The rich and powerful part of Men Are answerable for those deeds To which they force the poor and the necessitous . 2 Com.

Oh admirable Reason !

Mont.

'T is most profound , and never to be answer'd .

Vill.

Are you convinc'd then ?

Mont. 1 C. & 2 C.

Yes , yes , yes .

Vill. Then I may tell you , I have a business for you , If you dare attempt it , in which there will not be Much danger , but great profit . Mont. Pish , Danger 's our Companion ; Name the thing , Sir . Vill. Follow me then to a more private place , Where you shall know your task ; my own Sword Shall share a little with you , as far as I dare ; I may , for ought I know , keep with the boldest . Exeunt .

SCENE III. Enter Cialto solus . Cial. No News yet , and the dangerous time so near ! And she for ever may be lost to me , And forc'd into a Fool 's Embraces ! For though she never can be mine , I cannot Suffer she shou'd be anothers . — I hardly can be jealous of Miranzo ; Yet Friendship it self is not security enough To give him credit for Samira ; I dare not trust That Treasure thus uncertainly ; I must prevent The quickest way ; Friendship and Fate Have their slow pace ; but Passions will not wait . He offers to go out . Enter Miranzo . Mir. Whither so fast ? hey day , which is now Predominant , Love or Fortune ? One of 'em Is ever vexing thee . Cial.

'T is well you can continue merry .

Mir.

Come , what 's the matter ?

Cial.

Nothing .

Mir.

That 's unkind .

Cial.

Pray urge me not .

Mir.

Is there any thing to be conceal'd from Friends ?

Cial.

Yes , trouble and misery .

Mir.

No more , or find some other friend .

Cial. You do not well to press me thus ; It will not please you when you hear it . Mir.

Pray let me know it .

Cial.

You shall ; but I must beg another thing .

Mir.

What 's that ?

Cial. Only to save you and me trouble ; Pray when you have heard it give no Counsel . Mir.

O , by no means , Sir , not for a World .

Cial.

Why , 't is no great matter , — I 'le kill Brancadoro .

Mir.

How !

Cial.

Nay , your Wonder is as unnecessary as your Counsel .

Mir.

Have you consider'd what you said ?

Cial.

Yes , and I find it reasonable , I admire you do not .

Mir. Faith not I ; I think 't is an unreasonable thing To kill an Ass ; some think that Fools are damn'd For their original Ignorance ; thou wou'dst not Send him to Hell on thy Errand , wou'dst ? Cial. Ha , ha , shou'd I for fear of sending him to Hell , Let him enjoy my Heaven here ! — Perhaps it grows indifferent to you . Mir. Do you suspect that Brancadoro's wealth Has brib'd me , Sir ? I thank you . Cial.

I do not say , it has ; but yet —

Mir. But yet ! it looks scurvily : A Friend when he 's jealous Is like a Child that 's froward ; He knows not why he 's out of humour . Come , trust all to me , you shall not be deceiv'd ; I 've a design ; spare me but for a few minutes . Cial. Me thinks your kindness gives me greater joy Than a bare Friendship cou'd : — all thoughts Of my revenge on others vanish ; — yet — When I am too much press'd with Misery , Be but so kind to give me leave to die . Exit Cialto . Miranzo stays and studies . Mir. It shall be so , if I can frighten him , And make him decline the Marriage with my Sister ; 'T wou'd be excellent ; for certainly he 's a rank Coward : See where most luckily he comes . Enter Brancadoro . Now Fortune ; — yet if this fail I 've a sure remedy at last . Noble Signior , I was going to look after you . Bran. What , I warrant your Sister sent to me ; I am coming . Mir.

No , Sir , 't was a business of another nature .

Bran.

Nay , I cannot stay to talk of business now .

Mir.

You must , Sir .

Bran.

Must , Sir !

Mir.

I think you must ; your Honour will enforce you .

Bran.

Why , what has my Honour to do with 't ? Must !

Mir. It concerns it ; and I must beg your pardon , That am th' unwilling Messenger . Bran. Why , if you be unwilling , let it alone ; I 'le excuse you . Mir. I dare not , Sir ; I am oblig'd so far In common ties , that every Gentleman Is bound unto another by ; I was Unhappy that it was requir'd from me . Bran.

Well , another time , another time .

Mir. None but this can serve , Sir ; 't is the last request That you will have from Signior Cialto . Bran.

The last ! well , that mollisies somewhat ; What is 't then ?

Mir. Why it seems reasonable , that you have his Fortune , And are now going to possess his Mistress ; He but desires that you wou'd now be pleas'd Fairly to take away his Life too . Bran. What 's this ! I hope I am not discover'd Aside . By Villerotto ! Fairly , quoth he ! Mir.

Life in his condition is but useless to him .

Bran.

Why he may hang himself .

Mir. That he 's unwilling to do ; you shall try To free him with your honourable Sword . Bran.

I 'le not try , Sir .

Mir. You must , Sir ; and for that end he stays for you Hard by the Nunnery , in the Cypress Grove . Bran. There let him stay ; you know , as well as I , I am ingag'd , and cannot come . Mir. No ingagement , Sir , ought to be above your Honour . Besides mine will engage me not to receive So slight an Answer . Bran. Why , 't is your Sister I am going to marry ; Is it not ? Mir.

I consider not that , Sir .

Bran. If Cialto sends me a Challenge , I hope I may appoint my Time and Weapon . Mir.

That I think you may . Sure he dares not fight , does he ?

Aside . Bran. Why then tell your Friend from me , I 'le meet him the Next day after I 'm married , any where : I 'le not delay such matters as these . Mir. Why , he has Courage sure . Aside . But , Sir , 't is handsomest to end these matters quickly . Bran. So 't were , Sir , if a man were free ; But since I am engag'd I will be married first ; And then have at him . If he be in haste to fight , let him fasten a Quarrel On somebody else , to pass away the time Till I am married . Mir.

'Slid , he amazes me .

Aside . Bran. Thus , Sir , I shall preserve my Honour every way ; I hope he understands himself as well as I do . Mir. There is no help , this will not do . Aside . How the Rascal has couzen'd me ! — well — Who knows but he may be valiant ? This is your resolution , Sir . Bran.

I marry , Sir ; nor will I alter it .

Mir. I shall acquaint Cialto with it , Sir , And then attend you to your Nuptials : Farewel , Signior . Bran. You shall be welcome , Sir ; there will be Ex. Miran . A fine fight , I pay some on 't . Ha , ha , how I have conzen'd'em ! Miranzo has no mind I shou'd have his Sister , And so they agreed to frighten me from 't ; I found it ; Poor silly Fellows , 't was too late ; I have promis'd To meet Cialto the next day after I am married , That is the next day after he is dead ; 'T is the same thing ; — 'em — but If Villerotto shou'd fail I were in a fine case , Positively ingag'd to fight with him ; I 'le look him , and make sure work ; I grow horribly afraid to think of fighting , Though I never intend to come to 't . Exit .

SCENE IV. Enter Montalto solus . Mon. What has this Rascal perswaded us to ! Nay , rather , what have I perswaded my self to ! To fancy I have Courage , and know all the while What a dangerous Lie 't is to own it ; For I had talk'd so loudly of my killing , That 't was very probable I shou'd be set to work ; And as luck is , 't is to kill one That will not easily be kill'd , unless I cou'd catch him asleep : Wou'd this Rhetorical Gentleman had his Money again . He gave me Earnest very formally . The Devil 's to raise Forces , and he 's his Agent To give the Press-money . Here come my engag'd Friends : Enter 1 , 2 Companions . What made ye stay behind ? I Com.

Why the Gentleman , you know who —

Mon.

That hir'd us to do you know what .

I Com.

Had still more to say to us , he 's very earnest

Mont.

I had rather he were in jest .

Aside . I Com. He promises to double our Reward , If we strike home , and lose no opportunity ; We shall hardly have such another Bargain . Mont. That 's likely ; for 't is very probable We may be hang'd for this : I find I have more Conscience than I thought I had . I Com. As good hang as starve ; nay , Captain , If you 'r in Dialogue with Fear and Conscience , I ha' done . Mont. I do but cast the worst to try your Spirits : I am a Villain if Fear be not Gentleman-usher To Conscience ; I thought I had had no such thing ; Now , I am afraid , I find , I have a most troublesome stock of it . — Um — the Devil has sent his Resident again ; Enter Vill. The Fiend Knew I had a good thought or two , And his Agent 's come to treat for 'em ; Yet if I fall back , he 'l cut my Throat , that 's certain . Vill. Gentlemen , some new thoughts made me overtake you ; 'T is to tell you , I am now resolv'd Still to keep near you , that no opportunity be lost , Nor I robb'd of my part in th' Action . Mont.

I wou'd afford any one a penniworth of my share .

Aside . Vill. It were a fault to doubt your Courages ; But words waste time ; no more : Go presently and stay for me In the Cypress Walk that leads unto the Nunnery . This Captain methinks looks something suspiciously ; I must not be long from them : My Sword shall make sure work . How — my wise Master ! Enter Brancadoro . What business sends him hunting after me ? Bran. Villerotto , hast bargain'd ? Castruccio has sent Me word that he has got his Nieces consent : But all 's one for that ; if thou canst not get Him kill'd , they sha'nt get me to marry , For a reason best known to my self : Yet prethee bargain as cheap as thou canst ; For all that I dare trust thee though To use thy own discretion . Vill. I will do more than use my own discretion ; I 'll use my Sword too : Go marry , Sir , And think not of a dead Man . Bran.

Hast got him dispatch'd already ?

Vill.

As good , Sir ; 't is sure .

Bran.

But had I best marry before it be quite done ?

Vill.

Fear not , Sir ; trust to my care and faith .

Bran.

But be sure .

Vill.

Nay , if you suspect me , Sir .

Bran. Why then I 'll venture , fall back , fall edge ; Let him meddle with me if he dares . Dispatch quickly , good Villerotto . Exit Brancadoro . Vill. Yet again ! He needs not doubt me , if he knew all ; But when 't is done I must propose Some considerable Conditions to set up for my self , And leave his wise Worship : He dares not but consent ; the guilty must Submit to be the Slaves of those they trust . Exit .

ACT III.

SCENE I. Enter Bottolo . Bot. HOW that Fire-brand the Cook sputters ! There 's no coming near to have a cut for Breakfast . I am a Villain if the Butler too Be not grown as outragious a Beast as he . What coil 's here ! — O Mother , — how ! — Enter Taccola . What , you in a pelt too ! Do the Quinces prove rotten ? Or is all the Bisket-slabber spilt ? Tacco . Out upon thee , thou tak'st care for nothing ; She has been my Charge these seventeen years , And I do not mean to quit my care yet a while . Bot. Yes faith , Mother , you must deliver up ; She 's going to have another Governour , And as luck will have it , as old as your grave self : We are like to plant our fair young Twig In hopeful soil ; does it not trouble you , Mother ? Tacco . What 's that to thee , Sirrah ? Thou art ever full Of roguish thoughts ; the Man may do well enough ; Age is not so contemptible . Bot. Nay , I dare swear , Mother , you believe You cou'd entertain the youngest of them all With wondrous prowess . Tacco . Come , leave your prating ; the Bride-groom's Near at hand , with such a gallant Troop ; They are hard by : Nay , I 'll tell thee what — Out upon 't , — what do I here ! The Jolly will be spoil'd . Exit Taccola . Bot. O take care of that by all means ; The old Gentleman will need it . Enter Moreno . Mor. How now , Sirrah ? what , loit'ring here ? The Company 's just coming to the Gate ; Get you gone , and mind your business within . — Why Daughter , Daughter . Emilia appears above . Emil.

Your pleasure , Sir .

Mor. Be ready there , Daughter ; the Bride-groom Will salute you with Musick presently . I had almost forgot the chiefest News ; This day the fair Samira , Castruccio's Niece , Must marry the great and rich Brancadoro's Heir . Be ready , Daughter , I cannot stay . — Hark , — they come . Emil.

Governess . Taccola .

Taccola appears above . Tac.

Here , Sweet Charge .

Emil. Come , it must be your part to tell me the Names Of every one ; have you inform'd your self ? Tac.

Yes , yes , I know them all .

Emil.

Peace then , and observe .

Enter first some bearing Bays and Rosemary , then Moreno and Castruccio , then Brancadoro and Samira , then Miranzo and others ; As these pass over the Stage they speak above .

What be these Men ?

Tac. They bear Love's Ensigns : You know the Gentleman that follows . Emil.

Yes , yes ; who 's he that leads his fair Niece ?

Tac. The wealthy Brancadoro , who is to marry her this day ▪ They say he 's an Ass , though his Trappings be rich . Emil. A sudden Wedding ! But what young Man Is that which follows next ? Tac. I marry , that 's his fine Nephew Miranzo , Newly return'd from Travel . Emil.

Peace , they begin .

As soon as the Masque begins the Curtain draws , and Emilia appears ; Miranzo keeps his eyes fix'd on her all the while the Masque is presented .

The Persons being all plac'd about the Stage ,

Enter a Cupid , who waves an Arrow , and speaks . Cup. Hymen , O gentle Hymen , come away .

Enter Hymen . Hym.

When Loves great God Commands , I never stay .

Cup.

Then light it thy Torch .

Hym. For that I hither came , And see 't is ready to receive a flame , Whenever by thy powerful Summons prest . Cup.

Then light at that aged Lovers breast .

Hym. Where Time has been destroying , can there be A warmth for him , much less a flame for me ? Cup. Those grosser flames that feed on wanton hearts , Burn not in his ; the sharpest of thy Darts Had found no way , where Nature frozen lies , But that 't was thaw'd by fair Emilia's Eyes . Hym. Call hither all thy Votaries to gaze , That with such Fires thy Altars still may blaze ; Not fed with loose Desires , but purest Hearts ; So I my Torch may save , and thou thy Darts . Enter Charon . Cup. But stay , what dismal Apparition's this , That mingles horror with approaching bliss ? Cha. Charon I am , that o'r the Stygian Waves Waft only Fares that first have pass'd through Graves : From thence I came , where all the Destinies Do sit and smile at these unequalities : 'T is vain to sing an Hymeneal note ; Light not thy Torch , for I prepare my Boat . Hym.

Why , Charon , why ?

Char. Know , I did lately view The Fatal Sisters , whilst his Thread they drew ; The last remains were on the Distaff put , And one prepar'd the feeble twine to cut . Hym. Fond Fool , go back again , and thou shalt find So fair a Thread with his so firmly twin'd , No Destiny will venture to divide A Life that is with fair Emilia's ty'd . Gaze , and submit . Char. What 's this appears more bright , Than Souls prepar'd for the Elysian Light ? Appear , appear , you Fatal Sisters , come Before a Power that can reverse your doom . Enter Destinies . See , they obey ; 't is just that Love and Fate Shou'd on the fair Emilia's Nuptials wait . Cup.

First I resign my Arrows and my Bow .

Hym.

The Fates submit their dreadful Ensigns too

Char. Charon will leave his unfrequented Shore , And at Emilia's Feet lay down his Oar. Hym. Ascend , ascend , you happy Shades , and move In various measures with the God of Love . Enter Spirits . Cha. They come , they come , hark , hark , our charmed Ears Are struck with Musick from the moving Spheres . The Spirits first dance an Antick ; Then the Destinies join in a grand Dance . Mir. How my Eyes are chain'd unto that glorious Object ! She acts like what she is , a Miracle ; And I am lost in wonder ! Cast. Good Morning to my fairest Mistress : May but my Joys this day , be yours for ever ; I know not how to wish you more . Bran. Uncle , must I bid her good-morrow too ? These Spirits have so amaz'd me , I can scarce fetch my breath . Cast.

By all means .

Bra Why then , — Good-morrow , Mistress ; 't is Signior Brancadoro Bids you good-morrow : I wish you as good luck as my self . As I suppose , you may have heard of me ; For I am going the way of all Flesh too . Mir. If i cou'd speak , I find I cannot join In Wishes of this nature : How my Soul struggles in me ! Mor. Come down Daughter , and meet us in the Hall , So to the Temple , where all Complements Are quickly ended . Come , Son , your Ceremony Defers your happiness . Exeunt . The Curtain draws . Manet Miranzo . Mir. The lovely Apparition's vanish'd ; O for a spell To call it back again ; but the black Spirits only Are subject unto charms , and not the brighter Angels : At what a distance she surpriz'd ! Had the great God of Love ns'd other Eyes , He had at rovers vainly shot his Dart ; Hers had the power alone to carry level to my heart . How hapless must my destiny needs prove , That in one instant both despair and love ! Exit :

SCENE II. Enter Taccola and Bottolo . Tac. Good Bottolo , set these things upon the Shelf ; I must stay here to give my Lady her Things , She 's coming down this way ; I had forgot Her Vail ; nay , prethee do so much for me . Bot.

Well , well ; Pox on 't , I take no joy in this Wedding .

Tac.

Nay , prethee no discourse now , honest Bottolo .

Bet. O rare ! honest Bottolo ! before night You 'l scold at this honest Bottolo . Tac.

Thou deserv'st it twice , where I do it once , Sirrah .

Enter Emilia . Emil.

What 's the matter ?

Bot.

Nothing , Mistress . — Ah , 't is a thousand pities .

Exit Bottolo . Emil.

Have you brought my Things , Governess ?

Tac.

Yes , my sweet Charge .

Emil.

Where 's the Company ?

Tac.

They all stay for you in the Hall .

Emil.

I go , I go .

As she offers to go , enter Miranzo . Mir.

Stay , stay , fairest Maid .

Emil.

What 's your pleasure , Sir ?

Mir. I dare not tell her 't is to gaze on her . Aside . Madam , the business I must acquaint you with Deserves a privacy ; please you to command Your Woman for a minute to withdraw . Emil.

Leave us a little , Governess .

Tac. By my troth a comely Gentleman ; had luck been , This might have made the better Husband . Pray , Sir , be not tedious , here 's business to be done . Mir. Not by the old Gentleman . Exit Taccola . I am a stranger to you , Madam ; My business will seem strange too . Emil.

Pray quickly , Sir ; I am staid for .

Mir.

That 's part of it .

Emil.

Of what ?

Mir.

Why , of my business , to desire you not to go .

Emil. What mean you , Sir ? why do you gaze so wildly ? I hope your thoughts are not so much unsettl'd As your looks ; why do you desire me not to go ? Mir.

Why , you go to be married , do you not ?

Emil.

Yes ; what do you mean ? Pray leave me .

Mir.

I must not , nay , I cannot leave you .

Emil. Not leave me ! What is the business That thus unseasonably you stay me for ? Mir. I know I have done ill to trouble you ; But who can help it ; Love and Whirlwinds Will have their giddy courses . The story 's short , I saw and lov'd you . Wonder not ; Lightning burns at a flash , When lesser Fires do by degrees consume . Emil. It is not well to give me this strange trouble . How did you come to meet me ? Pray say no more ; I must obey and marry . Mir. Do , and be happy . — 'T is true , I might have dy'd without afflicting you ; For that I ask forgiveness . Emil.

I forgive you freely .

Mir.

This then finishes my Wooing .

He draws a Poniard . Emil.

Hold ; you do not mean so madly !

Mir.

I mean thus , soberly .

Emil. Where is your Reason and your Justice , Sir ! Think on 't ; wou'd you rob another of his right ? Your near Relation too ! Mir.

Not by dying , do I ?

Emil. That offends Heaven , at whose disposal You ought to be . Mir. I am so ; you are my Heaven here , And you dispose me to my Fate . Emil. Why d' you cruelly disturb me ? I know You dare not be so injurious as to Destroy at once your self , and all my peace . Mir. You mistake ; Alas ! I have not courage enough to try Whether or no I can endure to live . Emil.

Oh , you have ruin'd me ! what shall I do !

Mir. I am sorry I have troubled you , indeed I am ; But you began to plague me first : I was at peace with Woman-kind ; that is , I lov'd none till your eyes began the quarrel . Emil. What wou'd you have me do ? how can I now A void this Marriage , ready for the Temple , Ingag'd by my Obedience , and my Promise ! Mir.

You may pretend a sudden sickness , Madam .

Emil. I need not much pretend it ; But what is your design in this ? Mir. I dare not name a Pardon at the first ; I only beg to be Repriev'd , that I may try If it be possible to love you less , And you may try to love me more : But if you think it too much mercy to Reprieve me , Pronounce my Sentence quickly , you shall find me Your faithful Executioner . Emil. You press me strangely ; I dare not be the cause of any murther : Live — I will not marry ; by all that 's good I will not : But from this time see me no more , Cruel disturber of my Peace . Mir. I lost mine first by seeing you ; And though I promis'd to obey one Sentence , Yet this is too hard , dying's easier : I cannot promise never to see you more and live . Emil.

Be gone , and leave the most unhappy of all Women .

Mir. I go , remember only this Vow I leave behind , Never to live to see you wretched or unkind . Exit . Emil. Ah me ! — I need not wholly counterfeit Sickness ; I have an Ague in my thoughts , Which shakes my Soul ; I shall grow faint indeed . Governess . Enter Taccola . Tac.

O , sweet Charge , there 's old calling for you .

Emil. I cannot go yet ; lead me to my Chamber ; I fear I shall grow ill . Tac.

How , how !

Emil.

Prithee peace .

Tac. Why , what , a God's name , hath this young Fellow done ? What is he gone and left you ? Emil.

Nothing , nothing ; prithee along , I faint .

Exeunt .

SCENE III. Enter Bottolo . Bot. Hey day , what doings there 's within ! Signior Brancadoro has lost his Mistress ; By this time they are hunting on a cold scent , Or else have quite given her over . I wonder my Mistress had not the wit To run away , and hide for good and all , From her old Caterpillar . Hark , there 's a new Noise within , Noise within . And louder too than ever ; I 'm a Villain If I don't fansie I hear Taccola's shrieks A note above them all ; what shou'd this mean ? Enter Brancadoro . Bran. O , Bottolo , did'st thou see my Mistress ? As I live and breathe , I never took more pains a Squirrel-hunting , Than I have done in seeking her ; I would give any thing in reason to any That could but bring Tale or Tidings of her . Bot.

That reasonable Reward would prove a Julio .

Bran.

Come , Bottolo , prithee come and help to look her .

Exit Brancadoro Bot. I had rather help to hide her from such A covetous vapouring Coxcomb . How now ! Enter Moreno hastily . Mor.

O Bottolo , Bottolo ! run , run , Bottolo .

Bot.

Whither , Sir ?

Mor. Any whither ; run , run , fetch a Physician quickly . O , my Daughter , my Daughter ! What , art thou here yet ? Bot.

Why , what ails my Mistress ?

Mor. Dying , dying ; she fainted suddenly , And lies without a sign of life . Bot. A pretty Wedding towards ; poor Soul , Who can blame her to be afraid to be clasp'd by an old Ivy , Whose embraces never suffer any thing to prosper ? Mor. Art thou not gone yet ? Run quickly , Sirrah , To Leonardo the Phycisian ; make all the haste thou canst . Bot. I knew there wou'd no good come of this Wedding , First or last . I go , Sir , I go . Exit Bottolo . Enter Castruccio . Cast.

O mischief ! No hearing of my Niece !

Mor.

My Daughter , my Daughter 's going .

Cast. And my Niece is quite gone : Every corner has been search'd , but no finding her . Oh , oh , what a sad day is this ! Mor.

Never a hopeful Morning so o'recast !

Cast.

O my Mistress ! O my Niece ! Undone , undone .

Mor. Let 's in and advise together ; I have sent Bottolo for a Physician . Exeunt .

SCENE IV. Enter Miranzo . Mir. There 's yet some hopes ; the subtle Politician , That cannot reach his ends in peace , throws all Into disorder . He snatches others first from their enjoyments , And that makes way for his designs . I find we are alike ; for Peace must be More fatal than Love's Civil War to me . What a world of thoughts now offer Their troublesom service to me ! Wou'd my Man Baptista were come : Heaven prevent mischance ; I cannot doubt his truth : I trusted him to help my Sister's flight to the Nunnery ; No way was left at last but that , To cozen Brancadoro of her : The Fool had almost flown her to a Mark . O Cialto , — I have strange News to tell thee . Enter Cialto . Cial. Your looks express as much . I thought sorrow and wildness Had hung upon no brow but mine . Where have you been ? What is the Wedding finish'd ? Why are you thus confus'd ? — ha ! — where 's Samira ? Mir.

Not married to Brancadoro , nor ever shall .

Cial. O , my best Friend , pardon my fears ; How safe I am in thee ! But where is she ? Mir. You shall know presently ; I appointed my man Baptista To wait my coming to this place ; But an accident has brought me sooner than I thought . Cial. Bless me ! What accident ? In thine eyes appears A strange disorder . Mir. No , no , no great matter ; we may be friends , Sir , Now at your own rate ; I am turn'd Lover too . Cial. Why , 't is impossible ! Who Miranzo● He that us'd to brag his heart was fortifi'd With scorn and chearfulness ! Mir. O , Sir , I rejoyce you are in such perfect memory ; But see , Baptista is return'd . Now , — what News ? Enter Baptista . Bapt. As you directed , Sir , I found an opportunity That favour'd the design your Sister had : The idle Persons , that had no business But to mind others Actions , I got Into the Cellar , whil'st she made her escape . Mir.

To the Nunnery .

Bapt.

Thither she told me she would go .

Mir.

'T is well .

Cial. How ! to the Nunnery ! she may be willing to stay there , 'T is probable ; for nothing here below Is worth her Love : I find I cannot yet Submit ; my Passion will resist , Though Heaven it self does prove my Rival . Exit Cialto hastily . Mir. Cialto , friend Cialto ; he 's gone . Hey day , how Love tumble●●s about ! Yet I admire not now at this distraction ▪ For mad men wonder not at one another . Bapt. But , Sir , I have str 〈…〉 ws to tell you ; The fair Emilia , with her old Governess , Is fled to the Nunnery too . Mir.

How ! is 't possible ?

Bapt. 'T is certain , Sir ; and to that purpose She left a Note upon her Table : All the House is in an uproar , And fancy 't was a Plot between the Ladies . Mir. Above my hopes she then has kept her word , Not to bestow her self ; but what a Devil Does she do at the Nunnery ? That may be worse than th' other ; if she shou'd Turn Nun now ; like enough ; when people are cross'd And vex'd , they grow Religious presently . I must do something . — How my thoughts work , He studies . Heaving like labouring Moles within the Earth ! Ha , Baptista . Bapt.

Sir .

Mir.

Hast thou not told me thou hast a Brother is a Friar ?

Bapt.

I have , Sir , in the next Convent .

Mir. Cou'dst thou not prevail with him to lend me A little of his holiness ? Bapt.

What mean you , Sir ?

Mir. Nay , I mean none of his Prayers nor Meditations ; At this time I have no use for a good thought : 'T is his Habit only for a few hours ; I 'le not abuse it , On my honour ; Thou dar'st trust me , dar'st not ? Bapt. You cannot doubt that , Sir ; and I am sure My Brother's thoughts of you are as mine are : I 'll try presently , if you please , Sir . Mir. Come , I 'le go along with thee ; For my design requires some haste : Thy care and love shall be requited . Exeunt .

SCENE V. Enter Moreno . Mor. Worse and worse ; my Daughter , my Daughter ! Couzen'd , abus'd and cheated ! Signior Castruccio , Brancadoro , where are you ? Enter Castruccio and Brancadoro . Cast.

What 's the matter ?

Mor. Oh , my Daughter ! gone , fled , run away , With her old Beldame . Cast.

How , fled and gone !

Mor.

Gone , gone .

Bran. My Mistress shew'd her the way . Villerotto shall let him alone now , If I cou'd but find him . No Wedding , no Killing . Aside . Enter a Servant ▪ Cast. How now ? any News yet ? Where 's my Nephew Miranzo ? Serv.

He 's not in the House , Sir .

Mor.

We are all abus'd and cheated .

Bran. I am couzen'd too of my Mistress ▪ but as long As I can keep my Money , the care 's the less . Cast. It is in vain longer to vex our selves ; Let 's in and consult ; then , if we judge it 〈◊〉 , We 'l go together to the Nunnery , And there make our demands , You for your Daughter , I for my Niece . Mor. You advise well ; come , let us not delay : Signior Brancadoro , you must along too . Bran. With all my heart ; I long to see What the meaning of these tricks are : Every body 's couzen'd , as well as I. Exeunt omnes .

SCENE . VI. Enter Montalto , and two Companions . Mont.

We are marvellously kept on duty ; not one Allarm yet ?

1 Com. Our Scout is watching for Intelligence ; To say truth , the Gentleman takes a world of pains . Mont. Wou'd he wou'd take less ; he pays well , And 't is no matter how long 't is doing . 2 Com.

What are you squeamish still , Captain ?

Mont. Pox on 't , I can't conceal my villainous apprehensions From these Rascals ; without doubt the Rogues Are as timorous as I am , though they hide it better . Aside . Enter Villerotto with another , and pulling in Samira .

How now ? what 's here to do ?

Vill. Nay , do not seem angry : This is strange rambling on your Wedding day . Sam. Impudent Rascal , unhand me : How dare you assumethe boldness to examine me ? Vill. Spoil not your good face with frowns ; 'T is to no purpose ; You must be my pris'ner . Sam.

Your Prisoner , Slave !

Vill. Yes mine , till I know In what condition you have left my Master ; Your flight's suspicious ; perhaps y 'ave murther'd him . Sam. No , the Fool 's alive to thank you For your officious rudeness . Vill.

If he be not , your life shall satisfie .

Mon.

'T is not in our bargain to deal with Women .

Aside . Vill. There 's something more than ordinary ; For guilty persons use such flights ; Here , take her away . Sam.

What , will you murder me ? help , help .

Vill. Stop your mouth , or I 'll spoil the passage to 't , He shews a Dagger . And make an hole to let your Clamours out By th' way , before they climb up to your Throat . Enter Emilia and Taccola . What have we here ? more Quarry following ? How the Covie's scatter'd ? Sure 't is she ; 't is , 't is Emilia . Here has been some mischief practis'd ▪ I 'll seize her too , else t'other will want company . Stay , who are you ? Emil.

Ah me !

Vill. Whither this way so fast ? May be you cannot speak for want of Air , I 'll give you vent . — I thought so , — 't is she . He unvails her . Emil.

Oh , I am ruin'd .

Vill.

Troth , like enough ; and possibly you have deserv'd it .

Emil. Pray stop me not ; but rather , if you have pity , Conduct me to the Nunnery . Vill. O , do your mischiefs prompt you to a refuge ? I 'll find you out a place of safety . Two of you come along with me ; Bring them along too . Tac.

Rascal , what dost thou mean to do with us ?

Vill.

Nothing with your Antiquity .

Sam. Conduct us to an Officer of Justice ; We dare appear , Sir . Vill. Stop her mouth ; I 'll consider what to do with you ; Bring 〈…〉 long , I say . Do y 〈…〉 it here till I return ; A Minute brings me back . Exeunt with the Women Villerotto , and the second Companion . Mont. Why , this is horrible Injustice ; We must only it seems do the worst work . Why , methinks one might serve this unconscionable stomach : But it may be we , like Serving men , May be permitted to fall to after him . This plunder though ought to be divided Among us that did the duty . 1 Com. 'T is but reasonable ; perhaps he thinks That full temptation cannot live In our hunger-starv'd bodies . Mon. Before I saw these sprightly Wenches I thought so too ; but I am not hungry now : A Man has never any stomach When he is over-heated . Enter Villerotto hastily , with the second Companion . Vill. Whist , whist ; this way , this way : Now bravely seize the prey , he 's coming directly to you . Mont. Pox o' th' News : Now have I no mind To the Wenches neither ; this fear can lay that Devil , That will obey nor hunger , nor poverty . Vill.

Come , follow me ; thrust home and sure .

Mont.

I , I , so we might .

Vill.

Doubt not your full reward .

Exeunt .

SCENE VII . Enter Miranzo in a Friars Habit , with a Friar and Baptista . Mir. Thanks , holy Sir ; and pray be confident That I have no design nor thought Which may abuse this habit . Fri.

You are too noble .

Mir. In that rest assured ; now Sir retire , I need no farther your protection . Fri.

Heavens direct and send you peace of mind .

Mir. Thanks , holy Father . Baptista , wait at my Uncle's House till you hear from me ; I shall need nothing now but an old Shooe cast after me . Bap. I will not fail , Sir . This is strange ! He uses not to be so disturb'd . Exeunt severally .

SCENE VIII . Enter Cialto solus . Cial. Love's constant diet is not hope , I see ; For mine wou'd then be starv'd ; but it is still alive , And strangely on despair knows how to thrive . Yet think , Cialto , how preposterous 't is To fear the loss of that which 't were unworthy In thee now to wish . But though the Sun must at a distance shine , It would beget an horror in Mankind , Shou'd they but fear he wou'd for ever set . Though in this place she rises a degree Up towards Heaven , yet she sets to me . Enter Villerotto , Montalto , and two Companions , with their hands on their Swords . Ha! who are these , whose dismal looks Are seconded by their postures ! — Which is your way , Gentlemen ? You stare as if you had lost it . Vill. No , we know our way , 't is to thy heart , And thus we force it . Cial.

'T will be hard to find .

As they fight , enter Miranzo in his Friars Habit ; he snatches a Sword from one of them , and by his help the Assailants are beat off . Mir.

What horrid Act is this ! How , Cialto !

Vill.

Villains , make up ; sure I have sped him .

Cial.

So bold , Sir ?

Vill. Bold as your self , Sir . — It is in vain ; Hell take these Rascals . Mir.

What caus'd this foul play , Sir ?

Cial.

Holy Sir , you know as much as I.

Mir.

How do you feel your self ?

Cial. Hurt , Sir ; but not to any danger , as I guess ; Yet I bleed : Your timely aid Makes my life yours ; I shou'd not have expected Such a relief from any in your Habit. Mir. How , Cialto , do you not know me ? — not yet ? Look again ; sure if you lov'd me , There 's no disguise cou'd hide Miranzo from you . Cial.

How , Miranzo ! O , my Friend , what means this Habit ?

Mir. You bleed ; I dare not spend the time to tell you . All my story ; I doubt here was foul play . One of these Villains I know to be Brancadoro's Servant : But whither were you going ? Cial. To the Nunnery ; but pret hee satisfie my longing , What 's to be done in this disguise ? Mir. A very pious work , I can assure you ; — why , — I am going to confess my Mistress . Cial.

Thy Mistress !

Mir. You may remember my Uncle was in a fair way To Marriage . Cial.

Why , is he not married ?

Mir.

No.

Cial.

How so ?

Mir. I frighted his Mistress away , and in this Nunnery She has taken Sanctuary ; her I am going to confess ; I should be abominably out of Countenance — Cial.

At what , Man ?

Mir. Why , if she shou'd confess , amongst her sins , That she lov'd me , for one . Cial.

You wou'd absolve her , wou'd you not ?

Mir. Yes , and her Penance shou'd be to continue in her Sin ; But we trifle here , forgetting thy condition . Cial.

Pish , I scarce feel my hurts .

Mir. Come , our Adventures lie together ; lean on me ; Nay , yet more ; counterfeit enough , 't will move the more Pity ; thy Wounds and my Habit will without doubt Open these charitable Gates . They knock . A Nun appears . Nun.

What is your business , Father ?

Mir.

I am sent from Father Vincentio , unto the Lady Emilia .

Nun.

Here 's no such person .

Mir.

How ! 't is not the Custom of holy places to deny truths .

Nun.

Nor is it now practis'd .

Mir. Why her Father sent away Father Vincentio , Immediately to dispatch some holy Man , To reconcile her troubled Spirit , Which caus'd her to fly hither . Nun.

She came not to this place .

Mir.

Nor Samira , Castruccio's Niece ?

Nun.

By all that 's holy , neither .

Mir. I dare not but believe you , Pardon me for pressing you so far . Nun.

All Peace dwell with you .

Exit Nun. Cial. How , not here ! did you not mistake , Miranzo ? And have forgot , and sent her to some other place ? Mir.

I am amaz'd !

Cial.

Do not wonder ; you cannot lose your Sister , sure .

Mir.

Not lose her !

Cial.

I hope so ; for 't is probable she knows your mind .

Mir. I scarce understand yours , nor do you know your own ; If you do , 't will be ingenuous to speak it plainer . Cial. If I shou'd be jealous , or dislike any thing , 'T wou'd seem ridiculous ; such humours Are only fit for those that either hope , Or else are in possession . — Farewel . — I wish your Sister happy . He offers to go out . Mir. Stay ; — consider this is the second time That you have started into mean suspicions : You will repent . Cial. I do repent that I pursu'd your Sister With a Passion that hath out-liv'd all my prosperity , As if a Ghost shou'd love ; for 't is not I , But 't is Cialto's shadow that you gaze on . Mir. 'T is indeed his shade , or something less , That bears no shape of him , nor of his mind . Cial. I know it but too well ; — yet perhaps You may have so much Friendship left , at my request , To give it out that I am dead . Mir.

What 's your design in that report ?

Cial.

You will not do it then .

Mir.

I wou'd know why .

Cial.

Nay then .

Mir. Come , your humour shall have its course , I 'll do 't without a question : But why shou'd I report that you are dead ? Cial. You said you wou'd not ask me ; nor need You fear to give out an untruth ; it may be shortly so : In the mean time I must disguise my self , As from henceforward I shall every day Resemble less and less what once I was . Things running to decay grow every moment More unlike themselves ; and so do I. That at the last the name of Friend Will not fit you or me ; for I shall be decay'd , Never to be repair'd again ; and we must part Still more and more , till at the last our distance Will grow so great that none will guess We ever were united : So Lines Both from one Centre drawn , still more and more divide , Till for the World at last they grow too wide . Exit . Mir. I forgive thee , poor Cialto ; for I am sensible What a distraction governs thee , by the confusion That throws my thoughts into as much disorder ; For I have rais'd a War where Peace still flourish'd , In the calm Empire of Emilia's Breast ; And she is fled from me back to her peace . — Yet — He studies . What is the meaning that my Sister fails ? I know not what to think ; I stand like one has Lost his way , and no Man near him to enquire it of . Yet there 's a Providence above that knows The roads which ill Men tread , and can direct Enquiring Justice : The Passengers that travel In the wide Ocean , where no paths are , Look up , and leave their Conduct to a Star . Exit .

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Enter Montalto , and his two Companions . 1 Com. TRoth , Captain , I did not perceive That daring Valour you talk of . Mont. Thy fears blinded thee , else thou might'st have seen What furious thrusts I exchang'd with that Devil In a Friars Habit. You are a Courteous Gentleman , To lend your Sword at such a time . 2 Com. He came behind me on the sudden , And wrench'd it from me : Who wou'd have suspected a Friar for such tricks ? 1 Com. All our reward is lost ; if we might have it , I think we shou'd be asham'd to ask it ; He that hir'd us was hurt himself . Mont ▪ Why , 't was his own cause , and his own fault ; As for Example , I 'll shew you what he shou'd have done ; Observe me . — Enter Miranzo , and Baptista following at a distance . How now — what Apparition's this , as a Friar ? I hope , 't is not another fighting Friar . 'Slid , 't is he ; my villainous apprehensions Go as true as a Sun-dial . What an unlucky posture he has found me in , Wou'd my Sword were up to th' hilts in him Or a Dunghill , or any thing that wou'd but hide it . Mir. What , more mischief towards ? I am provided for them now ; They are those very Rascals : — I know that blustring Fellow again : Now Heav'n prosper my designs ; I have a fair occasion to improve them . How now , Gentlemen ? What means a Weapon drawn ? Mont. We , Sir , are Men that have been us'd To handle Swords ; when there 's no War to imploy them , We play with 'um in Peace : I hope 't is no offence To have a kindness for our best Friends . Sure he knows us not . — Aside . 1 Com. Alter your Countenance as much as possible , Captain ; perhaps he may not know us . 2 Com. I 'll seem blowing my Nose , and so hide my face . — 'Slid , I have no Handkerchief to do it with . Mir.

You stare as if you did not know me .

Mon.

Know you ? how shou'd we know you ?

Mir. No ? that 's strange ; one of you was so civil To lend me a Sword lately ; Can you yet call me to remembrance ? Mon. We know not what you mean ; if we were Friends , We are not now at leisure to answer idle questions . He offers to go . Mir. Nay , you must stay ; come , no blustring ; I am provided now , look you — He shews a Sword under his Gown . I shall not trouble you for a Sword again . Mont.

Wou'd he had mine , where I cou'd wish it .

Mir. I am sorry I have an unpleasant question to ask you ; But yet it must be answer'd . Mon.

Must !

Mir. Yes , must ; and you will do it calmly , For all your stormy looks . Bladder , if thou continuest thus to swell , I 'll make an hole to let out your vain humour . Mon.

'T is well you are a Man of Peace , or else —

1 Com.

Not half so much as he is .

Mir. Never at peace with Murtherers ; Impudent Villains , Who hir'd you to that damn'd act Of murthering the generous Cialto ? Had not your feet been nimbler than the Sword , I 'd paid you your just hire , Sir — Come , confess . 1 Com. We are undone . — Lord , how our Captain looks big , And trembles all at once ! Mon.

We do not understand you .

Mir. Well , I cannot stay to parley ; Here , take away these Rascals Swords . Mon.

How , our Swords !

Mir. Come , come ; nay , it must be so ; I know your gentle natures . Mon. Why , Sir , I deny nothing to one of your Coat , Or else — Mir.

You wou'd deliver them however .

1 , 2 Com.

Good Sir , disgrace us not .

Mon. Pox on 't , wou'd that were the worst ; How the Rogues stand upon their credit ? Mir. Disgrace you ! is that possible ? Come , deliver , deliver , Or you shall have ours , d' see , where you do not wish them . Mon. Well , our Religion obliges me to this ; but it shall be upon Condition you use it well till you return it ; 'T is a good Blade . They deliver their Swords . Mir. If the Blade be good , you shall have a Knife out of it , 'T is your only Weapon , this was not well mounted . Mon.

Well , Sir , you are merry , and we take our leaves .

Mir. O , by no means ; you must deliver your selves up too . Here carry these Gentlemen Murtherers To Cialto's Kinsman ; these are the Rogues He has been looking for ; I leave them to his Examination . Mon.

O , good Sir , we will do any thing .

Mir. A way with them ; I 'll follow at a distance , If they stir ; and d' hear — He whispers to Baptista . Bapt.

Yes , Sir . — Come , my Masters .

Exit Miranzo . Mon. What say you Friends ? umh — This was a good Bargain ; we shall never have such another : How plaguily you guess'd ! we are not likely To live to make another : What say you To a Dialogue with Fear and Conscience ? 1 Com. Why , if we hang we shall be in no more wants , And you 'll be in no more frights , Captain . Bapt. Come along , Gentlemen of the peaceable Blade : But , d' hear ? if you can yet be honest , And confess truly and penitently , You may 'scape , I 'll undertake it . Mon.

We will confess all we know , Sir .

1 Com.

Yes , and more too , if that will do 't .

Bapt.

Come , despair not then .

Exeunt .

SCENE II. Enter , as to the Nunnery , Castruccio , Moreno , Brancadoro , and Bottolo . Bran. If they be here , we 'l fetch them out with a vengeance ; Knock , Bottolo , break the Gate down . Bottolo knocks . Bot.

They are deaf , or else at Prayers .

Bran I , so they had need , to ask forgiveness For all their tricks . How out of Countenance , Uncle , Will my Mistress be when the sees me ? Cast.

And my Mistress too , Nephew .

Bran. Why there 's one comfort yet , they did not run After other Men ; I 'd have made any Man smoak That shou'd have been so bold to have ventur'd On my Mistress . — What , no body come yet ? — Knock again ; These be sine tricks . Bottolo knocks . Bot. Not a distressed Damsel yet appears Out of the sacred Castle : — Now one bolts ; Enter Nun. We shall have a godly Exhortation , Whether we get any Women , or no. Nun.

What means this earnest knocking at the Gates ?

Bran.

What a foolish question 's that ? we wou'd come in .

Nun.

Our Laws forbid that men shou'd enter here .

Bran. Fiddle faddle , I 'll come in , and fetch others out too ; See who shall say me nay , Nun. Use no rude force , 't will be a disrespect To Heaven , as well as want of manners : Is there a cause for all this passion ? Bran. Yes , that there is ; here you shelter every Run-away ; Bring 'um out , or I 'll seeze you . Bot.

Why he 'l beat her ; 't is a fierce Hector .

Nun.

What is it you demand , or whom ?

Bran. Why , we demand Samira and Emilia ; Here is her Uncle , and the others Father : My Name 's Signior Brancadoro ; you have heard on 't , I warrant you , e're now . Nun.

I know not what you mean .

Mor. 'T is true , holy Maid , such we have lost , And hicher they are fled . Nun. Certainly , Sir , there are none such here . But I 'll go in and ask the truth . Cast.

We thank you .

Exit Nun. Bran. 'Slid , if she had not left her tricks and denials , I wou'd have hit her a dowse in the chops . Bot. Like enough ; perhaps he ne'r struck any body in his life , And now wou'd flesh himself upon a woman . Enter Nun. Nun.

Here are no such persous as you enquire for .

Mor. How , how ! why my Daughter Emilia left a Letter Upon her Table , expressing she fled hither , For some trouble she had within her . Nun. There 's some abuse in this ; for but e'en now There was a Friar that enquir'd for these Ladies ; He held a Gentleman seem'd hurt to death : He was earnest , as you are ; but he was satisfi'd , As you may please to be . Bran. No , it does not please us to be satisfi'd , Nor will we be satisfied ; let 's in and search . — That hurt Gentleman was Cialto , without question . — Now if I cou'd but find my Mistress . Aside . Nun.

I hope you do not mean to be injurious .

Cast. I hope you do not think it lawful To conceal Children from their Parents ; this wou'd be The refuge then of every wilful Child . Nun. Pray believe you are not now abus'd ; By our best hopes there are no such Persons Within our Walls ; we wou'd not for a world deny a Truth . Mor.

This is strange ; but we must believe .

Bran.

But we may chuse whether we will or no.

Nun. Heaven restore all you have lost , And then preserve it to you . Cast.

We thank you .

Exit Nun. Bran. I 'll not thank her ; a pox of her truths ; I 'll not be couzen'd by any holy Jugler of them all . Mor. Come , let 's not neglect to enquire some other way ; 'T is vain to linger here . Signior Brancadoro , what course take you ? Bran. I 'll go about a little business , and presently Set some to enquire ; if she be above-ground , I 'll have her . Cast.

Farewel , Signior ; we 'l lose no time neither ;

Exit Castruccio and Moreno . Bran. Some comfort yet , that I have such fair hopes : Cialto's dead ; now I shall keep my Estate quietly ; And if I cou'd but find my Mistress , I shou'd have her too . Now the roaring Lion's dead , I dare look after my Prey . Well , — what 's best to do ? let me consider . Enter Villerotto . Vill. What , is he studying ; why the Devil Does he thus seem to search for prudent thoughts , That has not lodging in his Brains for one ? Yet he studies ; something is in the matter . Fortune , that brought those beauteous Prisoners under My power , prosper me now in driving of my Bargain . — Sir . Bran. How now ? — O Villerotto , come just in the nick ; I want thy advice and help ; my Mistress Is not here at the Nunnery . Vil. How , Sir ! not at the Nunnery ! why , you told me that Emilia had left a Note upon her Table , That she was fled hither ; and is neither here ? Bran.

Pox of her Note ; neither she nor Samira are here .

Vil.

Who told you this ?

Bran.

Why , a little harlotry Nun.

Vil.

She lyed sure .

Bran. I said so ; I was going once to hit her a Cuff o' th' Ear , But that she told me some good News . Vil.

What was that ?

Bran. She told me a Gentleman was dying , and a Friar Has carried him away ; that 's you know who . Hast heard any News ? Vil

Yes , your Enemy is dead .

Bran.

For certain ?

Vil.

So 't is reported generally .

Bran. Why , I have nothing then to fear but his Ghost ; And if that shou'd be troublesom , I 'll quiet him , If Christendom can afford a Conjurer . Now if I cou'd but find my Mistress . — But Villerotto , If any of the Rogues shou'd be taken that know thee . Vil.

I hope not , Sir .

Bran. Hope ! — is 't come to that ? Art not sure , — ha ? Now shall not I sleep one wink this Night ; I shall do nothing but hink and dream , And dream , and think of Judges , Serjeants , Bars , And Hangmen ; wou'd I had ne'r medled with it . Vill.

There is a way , Sir , to secure you .

Bran.

Name it , name it , good Villerotto .

Vill. I must go plant , Sir , in another Country ; Then you are safe . Bran. Why , faith and troth I shall be loth to part with thee ; But what must be , must be ; Friends must part . — Wou'd I were well rid of him . Aside . If thou think'st it fit , I shall be rul'd . Vill.

And consent I shall be gone .

Bran But against my will , as I 'm an honest man ; For let the worst come to the worst , I know thou woud'st not Betray me , — wou'dst thou , Villerotto ? — ha ? Vill. Nay , I cannot tell what operation A Rack and Torture might have on me ; I am flesh and blood . Bran. So am I too , I know it by my shaking . This was a bugs word ; — wou'd he were gone . Aside . Nay , Villerotto , 't is for thy safety too as well as mine , That I consent ; when wou'dst go ? Vill.

Soft , Sir something is first to be consider'd on .

Bran.

What 's that ? what 's that ?

Vill.

First tell me , Sir , is there no news of the Ladies ?

Bran.

No , no ; neither tale nor tidings .

Vil. Have Signior Castruccio nor Moreno Heard nothing neither ? Bran.

Not a syllable ; I have told you all .

Vill. Are not the old Gentlemen much troubled ? You bear your Losses pretty well , Sir . Bran. I have took on too , that I have , As much as the best of 'um ; it has made me Ready to hang my self ; but while my Money 's left I shan't part with this World easily ; yet I wou'd give somewhat More than I 'll say , to get my Mistress once again . Vill.

What wou'd you give , Sir ?

Bran. Nay , nothing , unless I were sure to have her , And then sure she wou'd not run away agen . Vill.

What wou'd you give to marry her ?

Bran. I , I , that 's the business that I am to look after ; I must get some Heirs quickly , For fear the Brancadoro's Race shou'd cease . Vill. That were pity . — Aside . But if I cou'd be instrumental , nay , the only means To find your Mistress out , and then marry her to you ; what then ? Bran.

Why , she may run away afterwards , for ought I know .

Vill. But what if I shou'd put you to Bed together ? after that 'T will be too late for her to take her flight . Bran.

I marry , Sir ; do this , and I 'll give thee twenty Crowns .

Vill. I thought so . — You are wondrous bountiful : But not to trifle longer , look you , Sir , If you sign this for my comfortable Subsistence , I 'll be gone ; He shews a Writing . 'T is to secure you in a certain Safety : And into the Bargain I 'll help you to your Mistress ; You shall wed her , and Bed her . Bran.

What is 't ? let 's see .

Vill.

There 's the Sum , Sir .

He points in the Writing . Brancadoro reads it . Bran. How ! Two thousand Crowns a year ! I 'll give two thousand of my Teeth as soon . Vill. Why then , Sir , take your chance , and I 'll take mine : I must not starve , nor will I. Bran.

But if thou shou'dst not help me to her .

Vill.

Then I 'll be gone , and forfeit my Reward .

Bran. I wou'd fain have her ; but I wou'd fain keep my Money : But if I don't , he 'l betray me , or cut my Throat ; Aside . 'T is a terrible dogged Fellow . Well , Villerotto , I 'll think on 't ; come along , we 'll go try If we can drive a Bargain : — But dost know where she is ? Vill. That I do not tell you ; 't is enough , I 'll run the venture . Hark you , Sir . He whispers . Enter Miranzo . Mir. Ha! — 't is he ; 't is Brancadoro and his Rascal , That did attempt Cialto's Life : Fortune sure Has offer'd them thus fairly to me , to make some use of : I hope they know me not ; I 'll try : Save you , Gentlemen ; — may it not appear rude to ask you If you know one call'd Signior Brancadoro ? Bran.

Yes , I know him as well as I know my self .

Mir. I have a little business with him , Sir , And wou'd be glad to know where I might find him . Bran. Why , did I not tell you I knew him as well as my self ? That 's as much as to say , I am he , if you mean The Honourable Brancadoro , Son And Heir to Brancadoro , who was lately The great rich Senator . Mir. 'T is he , Sir , I mean , whose known worth Made it a duty in me to acquaint him Of a black Scandal some wild Tongues have cast upon him . Bran. What 's the business ? if they talk of me , I 'll make 'em hold their Tongues . Vill.

How 's this !

Aside . Mir. It will deserve your Ear , Sir : The cause that made me knowing of your wrongs , Such I dare call 'em , was by some discourse That happen'd of the unfortunate Cialto's Death ; There 't was reported , that an idle Fellow , Who takes on him the Title of a Captain , Gives out that he was hir'd by a Servant of yours To murder him ; and they talk as if the Captain , And his lewd Companions , had been secur'd , At least search'd after , by the direction of a Friar , But what Friar I cou'd not hear . Vill.

Plague on that holy Rascal .

Aside . Bran.

Hey , hey , a Friar ! what Friar , Villerotto ?

Vill. Why the Devil do you ask me ? I know no Friar . O the damn'd Coxcomb ! Aside . Mir.

They grow concern'd ; it works .

Aside . Bran. Villerotto , d' hear ? if thou cou'dst be sure to help me To Samira , and then woud'st be gone into another Country , I wou'd sign the Writing . Vill. I 'll do it , Sir ; nor shall you set your hand to 't , Till I have shew'd you I can do it : — But hark you , Sir , If you shall then refuse it , I 'll betray all . Bran.

Like enough ; I must do 't .

Aside . Vil. Ha , — a lucky Fancy mingles on the suddain Among my crouding Thoughts ; 't is excellent ; This Friar may be a fit person , — I 'll try him . — Let me see , — 't is right . — If I joyn Brancadoro to his Mistress , That way my Fortune 's gain'd ; and to be safe , This Friar shall make Emilia mine ; That done , her Friends will ne'er endure to see Her Husband hang'd ; though Brancadoro share part of the Feast , Yet by his leave I 'll taste both Dishes first . — Sir , Pray give me leave to ask this honest Friar Some Questions in relation to your Service . Bran.

With all my Heart .

Vil. You cannot tell , Sir , whether these Rascals Are yet in Custody , or not ? Mir.

No , Sir .

Vil.

Nor cou'd you hear what Friar this is ?

Mir.

I am almost a Stranger in Sienna .

Vil. I like that . — Aside . You have exprest a great Kindness and Respect For my Master Brancadoro ; possibly , Sir , I cou'd propose a Service you might do him . That might deserve a large Reward . Mir.

I shou'd be glad to have that in my power , Sir .

Vil. Perhaps men of your Profession may scruple To do a thing in private , without the allowance of all Parties . Mir.

What mean you , Sir ?

Vil.

Hark you , a word in private .

Mir. Let me alone , Sir , to make good the Title , And fit the Party ready for possession . Vill.

O happy Accident ! I am ravish'd with my good Fortune .

Mir.

What means all this ? I 'll try the bottom of it .

Aside . Vill Come , Sir , be chearful , and be confident . To Brancad . In a few hours , I 'll make you safe and happy . If your Occasions , reverend Sir , permit you To undertake what I have mention'd to you , I 'll shew you suddenly your Clients . Mir.

I am ready , Sir .

Vill.

You must engage to Secrecy .

Mir.

Upon my holiness .

Vill.

Nay , you have forsworn that already in your discourse .

Mir.

Upon my life , Sir .

Vil. Come , Sir , to your House then , there you shall see What I will do in order to my promise . — Sir , I hope this reverend person shall receive Rewards proportionable to that Service He is engag'd to do you : — but — When we come there you must be pleas'd to use A little patience , till I have brought together The persons you must tye in sacred Bonds . I 'll on before , Sir , Exit Villerotto . Mir.

I shall observe all you direct .

Bran.

What does he mean , trow ?

Mir. I cannot guess ; but I believe 't is something In order to your Service . Bran. Nay , 't is a notable Fellow ; and you wou'd say so , Did you know as much as I : As cunning as my Mistress is , he 'l go near To hunt her out , let her make as many Doubles as she will . Come , Sir , I 'll bid you Welcom at my House ; 'T is not the worst in Sienna ; you shall take a full View of it . Mir.

You oblige me , Sir .

Exeunt .

SCENE . III. Enter Villerotto solus . Vil. So , now to my Prisoners : A single Beauty cou'd not have the power To keep my Blood thus at high Tide ; if one Permits my Veins to find but the least Ebb , The other makes 'em rise , and so kept always Flowing by one or t'others Eyes : And like my Blood , my Flames find no retreat : — I must allay my Fires , — or waste — In this expence of Heat . — Come forth , come forth , Enter Samira , and Emilia , and Taccola My Lady Brides , you shou'd have made such Fools Of Men. — 'T is not amiss to give you Joy . Sam.

What means the Villain ?

Em.

O give him gentle words , his Looks are dreadful .

Sam.

Give him Rats-bane .

Em. O speak gently to him ! when I was a Girl They us'd to frighten me with such a one . — I tremble . Sam.

Fear not , Emilia ; the Villain dares not wrong us .

Vil.

But the Villain dares revenge his Wrongs .

Sam.

Who has injur'd thee ?

Vil. He that did it will do so no more , I can assure you . Sam.

What dost thou mean ?

Vil. Why , this Wound , as shallow as it is , Was Fathom'd by Cialto's Sword , Sam.

Pish.

Vil. 'T is true indeed ; but I was more bold with him , And put in farther ; he had no time To make a Will ; I doubt he left you nothing . Sam.

What dost thou mean , — Screech-Owl ?

Vil. Oh , you have no mind to understand ; This 't is plainly , Cialto's dead ; I kill'd him in my own Defence . Sam. Villain thou lyest , in every thing thou lyest ; He cou'd do nothing basely ; nor could thy power Reach his generous Life . Vil. Why , in good truth , 't was he that stir'd my Blood , And made this Hole to let it out at ; but As Luck wou'd have it , 't was not deep enough : I saw his Errour , and did rectifie it ; I thrust my Sword two or three Inches deeper , And that laid him to rest . Sam.

O Heaven protect us .

Vil. Why now you run on that Mistake again ; No help can come so quickly as you 'l want it . Tac.

Thou dost not mean to ravish us , dost thou , Varlet ?

Vill.

Us ! canst thou be ravish'd , old willingness ?

Tac. How do you know , Jackanapes , Whether I am willing or no ? you never try'd yet . Vill. Nor ever will : This she Devil will ravish me . Be quiet , or I 'll slit your Tongue ; d'see this . He shews a Dagger . Sam.

O for some help ! I 'll tear the Villain .

Em. Peace , pray peace , let me beg again ; Good Sir , let 's go , why do you fright us so ? You dare not be so wicked as you talk . Vill. Pretty ; their different tempers bring to my enjoyment Variety of Bliss ; in her Embraces I shall enjoy a Calm , and childish Innocence ; In th' other , loftiness of Mind and Spirit , As if kind Nature had presented now All that she cou'd produce for me to rifle . Emil. Do you not hear me , Sir ? I pray release us : You have no cause to keep us Prisoners ; Yet we will pay a Ransom . Vill. Why , so you shall before you go , Pretty one ; is 't more unjust for you to be my Prisoners , Than me to be your Slave ? Sam.

Our Slave !

Vill. Nay , put not on a scornful look ; I shall not beg your pity . Em.

But we are willing to beg yours , good gentle Sir .

Sam.

Beg not so meanly , he dares not injure us .

Vil. O , by no means ; why that Frown ? Those Storms shall cast away no Heart of mine ; I 'll force my way to harbour in your Arms. Sam.

What do you mean ?

Vil. I mean to make my self as Fortunate As Man can be in his full-crown'd Wishes ; I will enjoy you both . Tac.

Which two d' you mean ?

Vil. Pox on thee , wou'dst thou be one ? — Nay wonder not , nor bless your selves , unless It be in Admiration of my Justice , Shew'd to the equal power of your Beauties ; You may see the Image of it every day ; 'T is in the labouring Bee , that gathers sweetness From every Flower that contends in Beauty . Tac. By that Smile he should go near To venture on us all . Sam.

Monster , dar'st thou entertain a Thought of such a Villany ?

Vil. Alas , 't is past that , I am almost ready for Action ; Yet for all that you shall be honest Women When I have done . Em. For Heavens sake , Sir , what mean these dark Expressions ; I hope they include no Evil. Vil. Not any ; perhaps you may scruple it A little at the first ; but I 'll allow you Some small time to consider on 't : What an excellent Contrivance 't will be ! You shall have all Love 's stolen and sweetest Joys , And yet be honest ; come prepare . Sam.

For what ?

Vill.

For my embraces .

Sam.

For those of Snakes first .

Vill.

O , mine are gentler far .

Sam.

Villain , thou —

Emil. Pray peace , and let me beg once more , Upon my Knees ; 'Pray , Sir , do not affright us , I know you cannot mean the thing you threaten ; You are too wise , by our unhappiness To bring on your own ruine . Vill. Ha , ha , why you will not publish your own shame ; This will not do ; no , if I were sure That death waited for me , as soon as I had crown'd My Passion and Revenge , I wou'd think it A good bargain , to chop a little time for so much satisfaction . Sam.

Be merciful , and kill us .

Vill. That 's to be cruel to my self — but I trifle time , A little business calls me ; be wise , and meet My embraces willingly ; if not , know your doom ; For by those Powers that govern me , Love and Revenge , I 'll sacrifice both your enjoyments to them , — So ponder till I return . Exit Villerotto . Em.

Ah , Madam , what shall we do ?

Sam.

Die , Emilia .

Em.

When , Madam ?

Sam.

Presently .

Em.

Alas , I tremble at your naming it .

Sam.

Why do you shake ? you must dye one day ?

Em. I know it , by that time I may be willing ; Old Age , or a Disease may make it welcome , At least more gentle , than it now appears By an approaching violence — but — Sam. O rather with a juster apprehension Recount the lingering Torments a Sickness Or old Age may bring on ; a violent Feaver May make the Body a Furnace for the Soul To suffer , not to live in ; or old Age May take away our Reason , and the use of Sense and Faculties , And rob the Body and Soul both of their Eyes : this way A minute's pain assures felicity for ever . Em.

Which way shou'd we do it ?

Sam. See , this I had still about me in all my fears She draws a short Dagger . Of being forc'd to be made Wife to Brancadoro : Why do you wink ? the brightness of it shines Most lovely in my Eyes , when I but think What service it may do in sending us To a perpetual Peace . Em. Can a Soul be carried through a stream of Blood , To peace in t'other World ? is 't not a Sin to destroy Life ? Sam. 'T is to avoid a greater sin we do it : Dare you , nay , can you live stain'd with this — I tremble more to name or think on that , Than on the death that will prevent it . But I have given you my Opinion , And will afford you my Example : If you stay behind me you will repent , Among those miseries that I am freed from . Emil. Oh! do not speak of leaving me behind you , To the rude passions of this horrid Villain ; I know not how to live without you , Nor dye , but as you teach me ; Pray blame me not , nor take it ill of me : Sick Men , though they are told , and do believe That health is offer'd in a bitter potion , Shrink at the taking of it ; 't is no more in me : I know , at last I shall chuse death , rather than shame ; — Yet I know not how I shall endure to hurt my self , I have cryed when I have but cut my Finger . Sam. That only was , because 't was unexpected ; Your resolution now for a just cause Will make this welcome , and prepare you for it . Emil. I fear I shall hardly strike home , — Then I may suffer all that shame and mischief I would avoid ; pray therefore grant me one thing . Sam.

What is 't ?

Em.

To kill me first .

Sam.

That were to commit Murder .

Em. Why , have you a better title to your own Life , Than unto mine ? you purchas'd one no more Than you did t'other ; there is no contract , or permission , Granted from Heaven , that allows the difference . Sam. But alas , my sweet Emilia , I never shall endure to hurt thee . Em. Nor your self neither , did not that vertue prompt you Which bids me beg it , and then the Argument's the same for me . Sam. Pretty reason'd ; but it will be needless To dispute this ; I know my fair Example , In dying first , will arm thy feeble hand , With double strength , to force a passage For thy unstained Soul to fly with mine , Where every thing is in perpetual lustre . Em.

Shall we know one another there ?

Sam. No question of it , else this bad World In something might exceed the best . Emil. You have confirm'd me , Madam , pray forgive My simple , if not unbeseeming fears ; 'T was no dispute my vertue did admit of , But a confusion brought upon me suddenly , By nature , and still flattering hope , Reasons , and Vertues Enemies . Come , dear Emilia , we 'll prepare our selves , And make the circumstances of our Death Familiar to us ; for 't is practice only Takes the sharp nature off from things , And gives them new ones , that at the last We shall be so much strangers to the thoughts , Or the desires of Life , that all will seem Already done , which we resolve to try , And we shall both seem dead before we dye . Exeunt .

ACT V.

SCENE I. Enter Cialto solus . Cial. WHY do I still pursue , what still must fly , And what I dare not wish to overtake ? It seems like the pursuit of night , which follows day In the same track , and yet can never reach it ; That distance nature did for them decree , And honour has design'd the same for me : Yet still there is a mutiny within Against those Laws which honour strictly makes ; And Passion like a cunning Traytor sets The name of liberty on its own Rebellion . Enter Baptista , Montalto , and his two Companions . Bap.

Sir .

Cia .

Ha , Baptista !

Bap. A word , Sir , in your Ear — My Master , Sir , by chance Has lighted on the Villains that attempted you ; He thought it fit that you shou'd first examine 'em , As Kinsman to your self , and to that end Has sent them to you ; farther , he bid me tell you That in a little time you will perceive You wrong'd him in your thoughts . Cia . Prethee say no more ; My thoughts have so much disproportion in them , That they are neither just nor equal unto my self , or him ; Has he not sent his Pardon by thee ? Bap. He can take nothing ill of you , Sir , Perhaps he did admire a little . Cia . He is a perfect Friend , and can love one Whose Mind is lost , as well as Fortunes . — Now , Gentlemen , have you received your Wages ? Mon.

For what , Sir ?

Cia .

For killing my Kinsman Cialto .

Mon.

We hope he is not dead .

Cia . D' you hope so , Rascals ; Come confess Every Circumstance , how it was done , And who hir'd you to 't ; if you miss a tittle — or — Mon. This Gentleman told us , If we did confess , we shou'd not suffer . Cia . Well , if you do it truly , and afterwards Perform all I enjoin you , I will make good his word : Come , who hir'd you ? Mon. It was an ill minded Man , Sir . One that belong'd to Signior Brancadoro . Cia .

Was it his Masters instruction ?

Mon.

I , no doubt on 't , Sir .

Cia .

Did he say so ?

Mon.

Yes , and more too .

Cia .

What more ?

Mon. Why , he told us , it was an honourable action , And therefore wou'd share in 't himself ; And accordingly he said his Master shou'd reward us . Cia .

You know him when you see him ?

Mon.

Yes , yes , Sir .

I Com.

Good Sir , let us not suffer , we have your word .

Cial.

Trust to it ; have you any more to say ?

Mon.

Nothing , Sir , of any consequence .

Cia .

Wel , what trivial thing have you ?

Mon. When we were waiting , Sir , For that worthy and unhappy Gentleman , Cialto , A couple of silly Women by chance came by , and the Rascal Snatch'd them up too ; all was Fish that came to his Net . Cia .

How , Women ? what Women ? speak , quickly , ha —

Mon.

Why does your Worship grow angry ?

Cia .

Speak , Dogs , what Women ?

Mon. What a Rogue was I to name them , 'Slid , 't is he himself . Aside . I Com.

You must be over-doing it .

Mon. Plague on you , did not you advise to tell all ? Nay , more than all if need were ? Cia .

It may be it was Samira and Emilia : Rogues , what Women ?

Mon. Good Sir , we know not ; But he talk'd of their running away Upon their Wedding day , And took them , as he said , upon suspicion Of Murdering his Master Brancadoro . Cia . It must be they , the circumstance assures it . O you Dogs , did you help take them ! I 'll send Your mischievous Souls to that Devil that instructs them . Mon. O good Sir , we hope you are the Gentleman , And there 's no hurt done , O good Sir , I Com.

Remember your promise , Sir .

Mont. We have more to confess , Sir ; Or if you please , we 'll unconfess it all again . Cia .

I had forgot to ask , what did the slave do with them ?

Mon.

He sent them Prisoners to his Master's House , as we think .

Cia . O Heavens ! Rogues , Prisoners ! Come along with me ; For if I find you tell me any lyes , I 'll spoil your Throats from venting any more . Come , good Baptista , help guard the Rascals ; If they but offer to stir , kill 'em . I 'll carry back to the Slaves heart All these intended mischiefs , And break upon them like a Whirl-wind , Wrapping them up together into nothing . Exeunt hastily .

SCENE II. Enter Samira and Emilia . Sam. Come , come , Emilia , dry those tender Eyes , We are not going to be miserable , But to be safe from miseries . Em. Wou'd it were past ; I am willing to reach My journeys end ; yet I start like one That travels in the night , in unknown ways ; For we must through darkness , Wander in places , from whence none that went Ever return'd to tell us what they were . Sam. O do not shake thy vertuous resolution With feeble apprehensions ; 't is a journey That we must one day take : All the dispute Which can be rais'd is only from the loss Of some uncertain time , which yet perhaps May prove so full of miseries , you 'd wish That Fate which now you wou'd so much decline . Em. My resolution 's firm ; for all my shakings They are but starts which sometimes nature makes ; As Wolves kept tame may now and then Provok'd by appetite , or some displeasure , Start into actions like their usual wildness , Before they were reduc'd to an obedience ; So 't is with me , though I have brought my nature To a tameness , and submission : Yet at the unwelcome prospect that it takes Of my intended dissolution . — It starts within me , and wou'd fain break Those severe Fetters , Vertue and Reason tyes them up with . Sam. Here take thy choice then ; She shews a Knife and a Dagger . This Knife by chance Taccola had about her : which will you have ? Em. The Dagger , if you please ; that seems the sharpest , And will be best for my weak hand . Sam. Nay do not weep that we shall dye ; But smile to think how we shall live in Fame . Em.

I must weep , since I must part with you .

Sam. We shall meet again so quickly , Thy tears will be but thrown away : — Now hide that fatal Friend unto thy honour , And when I strike , strike too , that we may sail In one anothers Arms , and go to rest together . — See , the Monster comes , be resolute . Em.

Fear me not .

Enter Villerotto . Vil. How fare my beauteous Prisoners ? what is 't , Sadness , or modesty that fixeth thus Your down-cast Eyes ? come , come , I 'll be more ingenuous , And acknowledge the happiness I shall enjoy ; But you must be bashful ; go in , go in , And there I 'll hide your blushes , that if you please , You shall unseen blush that you were unwilling . Sam. Sure thou canst not be such a prodigious Monster ; Hast thou neither fear of earthly punishment , Nor Heavens vengeance ? Vil. Pish , I 'll not trifle , nor defer my joys They draw their Dagger and Knife . A minute longer : Thus , I 'll force you two — how ! — Sam. Are you amaz'd ? were you so unacquainted With all good , nay , with any thought of it , That you could never think there might be Women That wou'd prefer their death before dishonour ? Vil. Indeed I have read of a foolish Lucrece ; But I believe the story otherwise Than perhaps you may do ; yet if you have A mind to imitate that willful Matron , Kill your selves as she did , when you know what was done . Sam. Stop thy lewd breath , thou Monster ; We need not to be told when we shou'd dye , We are prepar'd , but not as your damn'd tongue Directed us . Vill. And this you think will stop me ; No , your Romance trick will not do : I know you dare not venture to hurt your selves ; And therefore — thus — Sam.

Strike , Emilia , strike home be sure .

Vill. Hold excellent Ladies , hold ; Pardon my cruel curiosity , that led me To make this tryal of you ; you have shew'd There is a vertue , which I thought impossible To live with Women ; I have call'd back to me The Opinion of your Sexes stedfast goodness , Which has been so long banished from me . Em.

Can this be real !

Vill. You see it must be so ; 't is no faint repentance , Charm'd from your tears , or sad expressions , Which might be feign'd in Women ; but my conversion Comes from the real knowledge of a vertue That wou'd have shook Mans Faith to think in Woman . Sam.

This amazes me .

Vill. Why do you wonder ? is 't not possible A Man may once grow good ? why do you mistrust ? Are you not in my power still ? take heed , fair Saints , Of sharing any guilt , that seems like mine , So slowly to believe goodness in Man , As I have done in Woman : you know what Virtue is ; I scarce knew it till you taught it me ; And you will be more guilty than I was , If you believe as slowly as I did . Em.

Sure 't is real ?

Vill. You then will know it , when I have restor'd You to your liberty , as you have done Me to my long-lost goodness . Sam. If this be real , we shall believe our selves As much preserv'd by you , as if another Had been the intended Ravisher ; for 't is greater Virtue to rescue us thus from your self , Than from another ; as much as 't is harder To overcome our Passions , than an Enemy : Vill. I glory much in that high Character You raise me to ; pray give me leave to seal My Pardon on your fair hands ? nay , permit They offer their left hands . My most ambitious Lips to receive it Upon those noble hands that were to write The horrid Tragedy , with your vertuous Blood . Sam.

Ha , deceived ?

He offers to kiss their right hands , and so snatches away their Weapons . Em.

Ah me ?

Vill. I cann't but laugh to think how we have cousen'd One another ; did you believe I was turn'd virtuous ? Troth I never thought you were so foolish to be so really . Sam.

Dost thou take pains to appear Devil ?

Vill. No , not at all ; I do it easily : The truth on 't is , I fear'd you might have acted Some pretty odd phantastical Scene , Perhaps to let a little blood out , and then Talk sinely , whilst the purple drops distill'd ; Calling your selves , your Virtues Martyrs ; Then , in a tone most neatly counterfeited , Fall into high notions of meeting in Elysium , And walking in perpetual springing Groves , Or some strange imagin'd pleasure ; Perhaps all the while believe as much as I : But by this means you might have lost some of that blood , Which I have so much use of for to stir you . Sam.

Monster , Devil , wilt thou not permit us a way to dye ?

Em.

Kill us , Sir , and yet we will believe you gentle .

Vill. After I have done , you may do what you please . — Come . — Sam.

Help , help .

Enter Taccola . Tac.

Help , help .

Vill. Plague of this clap of thunder ; I 'll dispose of you , And spoil the spring of your chops . Exit with Taccola . Em.

Some help , good Heaven .

Sam. Let 's stop our breaths , Or tear the Devils Throat out . Em.

No help left us !

Enter Villerotto . Vill. Who shou'd help you ? I have gag'd Your foul mouth'd hound , she can fill up the cry no more : Yield quietly , or I 'll drag you — thus — Sam. Emil.

Help , help , murder , murder !

They busie . Enter Miranzo . Mir. What noise is this ; blast me ! are my Eyes true ? Or is that blessed shape ever before them ? It was their cryes . Hold , what 's the matter ? Vill. Ha , who wanted your sacred Company Before your time . Mir. I heard a noise , Sir , and I did not know Whether you might not be in danger . Vill. You see I am not ; Wait where I told you , till I send for you . Mir.

Then 't was the Ladies , Sir , cry'd out , it seems .

Vill. What then ? Is it a usual call for you when Women squeak ? Sam.

O Sir , for Heavens sake help us : we shall be —

Vill.

Stop your mouth , or I 'll stop it for you .

Draws . Mir. Good Sir , use no violence ; perchance the Ladies May be a little frightned from reason , If you but give them time . Sam. O Heaven ! are all Men ill ? under that habit Can there be hid the love of sin ? Vill. Well , be gone ; I want not your advice , nor your assistance yet . Mir. If you please , Sir , I will endeavour to perswade them : I can prove that necessity may excuse many things , That wou'd be sinful , uncompell'd — if you please , Sir . Vill.

No , no , be gone ; you grow impertinent .

Mir.

But if you please , Sir , to hearken to my opinion .

Vill. Hang your opinion ; I do not like this Fellow ; I 'll trust him no more . Ha , — what noise is this . A noise . Brancadoro calls Villerotto and Enters . Mir.

A seasonable interruption .

Bra. Villerotto , why where have you been , Man ? I have been looking you up and down all the House : Here 's Bottolo come from his Master , And has strange news for me , he says : I told him I car'd not a farthing what 't was . — But for all that , I wonder what it should be ? — How now , what here , Villerotto ? Ha — hast got her ? hast got her i'faith ? prethee let me — Vill. You had best spoil all , Sir , and destroy The pains I have taken for you ? Bra.

Nay , prethee , I will but —

Vill. Come , you shall not But ; have not I been careful , And dare you not trust me now ? Come along with me . Bra.

What , I must salute her first , Man , in good manners .

Vill. You must not , 't is unseasonable ; I have not wrought her yet enough — Nay ▪ — Bra.

But why thy Sword , drawn Man ?

Vill. You shall know the reason suddenly : Come , be quiet , and I 'll perform all I promis'd . — Hell — how I am troubled with him : Come , Sir . Bra. Push me no pushes ; I will not go ; And see who dares make me . Vill.

Come , you must , Sir .

Bra.

'Slid , whose Master ? You or I ? take heed of my fury .

Sam.

Good Signior Brancadoro , help us ; hear us .

Vill. To be fool'd again ; You have not a mind to be cousen'd Once more , have you ? Bra. What 's that to you ? I will hear 'em . 'Slid , I will stay , and I will not go yet . Vill. I 'll betray all , if you play the Fool thus : Come , you must go now ; Bottolo stays for you . Bra.

I will not , I say .

Vill.

Go , go .

Mir.

I 'll follow him , and get some help .

Exit Brancadoro . The Friar offers to go out too . Vil. Hold , Sir , you my worthy spiritual Counsellor ; Stir not , nor attempt to come near the door ; If you do — no more but so : Within there , ho ! — You Rascals , how came this Friar in ? 2 Appear . 1. He told us you appointed him when he heard a noise , That he should come . Vill. Pox on your credulous Coxcombs ; now remember You hear me say , if he offers to come out , let me Find him dead : Stir not , but guard the door ; He has robb'd our Masters : — If you fail , I 'll cut your throats . Exit Villerotto . Mir. Yet I am pleas'd that I am brought to die before her . Aside . That with my last breath , Which seldom unsuccessfully Petitions , I may at once beg of the fair , and wrong'd Emilia , Forgiveness , and belief ; — yet I wou'd know A little more , if it were possible . My Passion makes me vainly inquisitive . I must do 't ; yet it is but an idle curiosity To ask for news the minute I must die . Sam. What means this Friar ? does that Habit harbour An Instrument sitted for that vile Monster ? Mir. Was there not a great noise , Ladies , Something like Womens Cries ? Sam.

They were our Cries , Sir .

Emil. If you cannot help us to live with Honour , Help us to die ; we had two Weapons : Arm us but again , he has yet not disarm'd our Minds . Mir. Wou'd I knew how ; wou'd you accept it As a true witness of my sorrow , if I die first In the opposing that mischief I know not which way to prevent ? Em. Ah me , we do not ask of you to die , But to help death to us . Mir.

'T is impossible .

Sam. Strangle us then . Why do you turn away your tread ? It is a Charity to grant it . Mir. Alas , I need not say I must deny ; you will believe it When I let you know you ask it of Miranzo . He discovers himself . Em.

Miranzo !

Sam.

My Brother .

Mir. Fair Emilia , 't is the criminal Miranzo , That loves Emilia still . Em. O Miranzo ! I blush to think how you encrease My sense of Dangers , while you are mingled with 'em . Mir. I see I am to blame in all Conditions , To wish your Kindness ; I but strive to nourish A Sickness that sends Infection to your Peace . Em.

What must become of us ?

Mir. Thus naked as I am , I will defend you ; And with my Breast I 'll dull his Sword , perhaps his Cruelty . Em. O do not talk more cruelly ; Death is gentler , Which you may help us to . Sam. Ah Brother , be not so rash , do not deceive your self ; A thousand Lives lost in our Defence Would not give stop to his lewd Purposes : Heaven sure will send some Remedy . O Brother ! O Cialto ! Mir. Forgive me dearest Sister , I had forgot To tell you , Cialto lives ; though this Villain was one Of them that did attempt his Murder . Sam. O do not flatter me , for I shall grow As much out of love with Death , as even now I was with Life . — Is there no hope ? Mir. The Villain has appointed them to murder me , If I attempt but to go forth . — Ha , — Now I think on 't , it was the Friar He gave them charge of : I am none ; I 'll try If they will let me out ; so I may call He takes up his Disguise . Some help . Em.

O take heed !

Mir. 'T is but attempting . — But first I 'll set the Friar in the best posture I can . Here , Sister , support my Shape a little , To countenance my Design ; — nay , no trifling . — He sets his Habit on his Sister . So — now to your Prayers , — within there , ho : — I . . How now , who are you ? Mir. A Friend of Villerotto's , who left me to Stay a little while for your Assistance : Now I am going , have the greater Care Of the Friar there ; he may venture to escape , For he has robb'd your Master . 1. We warrant you : Sir Friar , you had not best try to bolt . Miranzo goes out , and returns back suddenly . Mir. I have done ill , I dare not venture Them a minute ; Honour and Reason turn me back — Blest Opportunity , — Rogue — He strikes up one of their Heels , t'other sights a little , and runs out with a noise ; he gets a Sword from one of them . 1. How now , what do you mean , Sir . Help , help . Mir. So , I have something now to frame an Argument For my self with , and to Dispute a little . Em.

Now you may kill us ; you have got a Sword ▪

Mir. Dear Emilia , do you believe , I know not how Emilia weeps . To make a better use of such a Weapon ? — Pray weep not , do not unman me now . Hark , a Noise . Enter Villerotto with him that run out , and another . Vill.

Ha , Miranzo , are you Metamorphosed from a Friar ?

Mir. Do you stare Monster ? is a Sword bright Metal ? The Mirrour that can only shew Th' affrighting shapes of thy unheard of Villanies . Vill. Alas , I have not been afraid a long time ; I have forgot what 't is . — Hark , a Noise . A Noise within . Dispatch him quickly , you shall tell no News , Sir . — Ha , who is this new Face for ? Enter Cialto . Cia .

This shall tell thee , Villain .

They offer to fight . Mir.

Hold —

Miranzo drives out the two men , comes back and parts them . Cia . Miranzo , rob me not of that Revenge , Which only can belong to me — Hark , a noise , — guard the Passage , or we may all be lost . A noise still . Nay , trifle not ; — hark , the Noise encreases , dispatch . — Now , Sir , do you stare to see Cialto , Whom you hir'd Rogues to Murder ? Exit Miranzo . Vill. I do not stare , nor am I frightned : What , y' are not dead it seems ? Sam.

O , Cialto !

Cia . Ha , since thou hast given me cause To view thee with a strict survey , my Eyes Are grown clear sighted , And find thee not the Villain which thou seem'st , But what thou art ; the base Borazzo . Vill.

'T is well , we know one another then .

Cia . Excellent Rascal , has your hot Revenge Been rak'd up all this while ? Vill. Cou'dst thou expect less from me , whom thou hast disgrac'd And ruin'd , by Cashiering me from my Command ? Cia . And what canst thou expect , Villain , But that Fate thou didst design for me ? Vill.

My Sword says no.

Sam. Hold , hold , I command you hold , Cialto : Hold , Sir , I will engage for your Forgiveness . Vill.

My Forgiveness ! this is my Indemnity .

Cia . Do not hang upon me , unless you mean To have me murder'd in your Arms. Vill.

Nay , I think I may drive this through your Shield .

Cia .

For Heavens sake let me go .

Sam.

And Heaven protect you .

They fight , Villerotto falls . Cial.

Now , Sir , what think you ?

Vill.

That I shall presently be quiet , and think no more . Help , help .

Cial. 'T is vain to call , no man has Charity Left for thee ; trouble not thy Throat , Unless thou hast some Devil to call upon . Enter Miranzo . Mir. Let me embrace my dear Cialto , For whom still ready Victory spreads her Wings , When e'er his wav'd Sword gives her but the sign . Cial. Can Miranzo forgive all those distracted Jealousies My miseries begot within me ? Mir.

You injure me to ask it ; go dry Samira's Eyes .

Cial. I dare not now approach you , fair Samira , But as I wou'd those Powers ( I durst not hope to reach With any thing but Prayers : ) Permit me to receive forgiveness . Sam.

For what ?

Cial.

For pursuing you with all my miseries .

Sam. If you lov'd me as well as you profess , My kindness wou'd infuse such joy into you , As wou'd admit no sense of your Misfortunes . Cannot my Love and Passion for you , have as much power as a little sleep , To render you insensible of Miseries , To which you only give afflicting Natures ? Cial. Fool that I was , to think that I cou'd be wretched , Whilst you were kind ; forgive me dear Samira : Permit me , fair Emilia , to kiss your hands too . Em.

Generous Sir , I owe an equal Obligation to you .

Enter Brancadoro . Cial.

Now spare me a minute .

Sam.

What means he ?

Mir.

I know not .

Cial. Signior Brancadoro , I think Miranzo told me once , You did engage to fight with me . Mir.

Now I guess ; peace , this will be good sport .

Bran.

I , that was when I was married to Samira . But not else .

Clia.

Wou'd marriage make you Valiant ?

Bran.

When I have try'd , you shall know my mind .

Cial. By no means , Signior ; I shall forbid the Banes : But I must have your Answer now ; look ye , Here are two Swords , take your choice . Sam.

What does he mean ?

Mir.

Nay , stand still .

Cial.

Here , Sir .

Bran 'T is neither here nor there , I 'll not fight With any man that has a less Estate Than my self ; such a one ventures nothing . Cial.

Troth , you will hardly fight then

Bran. Why , what care I ; if there be no body fit To fight with me I hope they know nothing yet . Aside . Cial. But , Sir , as I remember , you have something Did once belong to me ; are you not weary of it ? Bran.

It 's no matter whether I am or no.

Cial.

Pray let me have 't again .

Bran.

So you shall , when I have nothing else to do with it .

Cial. You are severe , Sir ; I will assign you your Money That you lent , to receive it of the Senate . Bran.

No , do 't your self , Sir .

Cial. I 'll fetch others to perswade you : Miranzo , pray look to the rich Gentleman . Cialto goes out . Sam.

What is the meaning of all this ?

Mir.

I guess now , you 'l perceive all presently .

Vill.

Oh! Mir. How is it ?

Vill.

Too well ; I have life enough to spend in Curses .

Mir.

O Devil !

Em.

He makes me tremble still .

Enter Cialto and Baptista , with Montalto , and his two Companions . Cial

Now , my most wealthy Signior , do you know these Gentlemen .

Bran Not I ; 't is not likely that I should be acquainted With such Ragamuffians . Cial.

Do you know them , angry Sir ?

Vil. Yes , I know them to be rascally Cowards ; Ten such would not venture to cut one Throat . Cial.

Why , you need not be angry ; they have not had their full hire .

Vill.

They deserv'd none , they did not do their business .

Bran. I know the Rogues now : He whispers . Why , Villerotto , thou wilt not betray me , I hope . Cial.

What was that business they shou'd have done ?

Vil.

Why , cut your Throat .

Cial. Brave Villain ! D' you see , Signior ? These were your Pensioners ; the confidence it seems Of their performances , made you so bold , To promise when you were married to fight with me ; That was after I was dead , as you believ'd . But now , Sir , the Hangman shall end our Quarrel . Bran. Good Sir , speak softly ? I vow , that Villain perswaded me , And told me I should never keep my Land In quiet else , nor ever have my Mistress . Mir.

Compound , Signior ; 't is your best way .

Cial.

What say you , noble Undertakers ?

Mon.

Why , Sir , we must confess —

Bran.

'T is needless , Sir , 't is needless ; I will do any thing .

Mir. Offer him his Estate again ; you are rich enough besides ; You 'l cheat somebody else in a little while of as much more . Bran. No , Sir , I am not wise enough to do 't ; My Father 's gone , peace be with him ; he perhaps Might have given a say to some such matter . Mir.

Are you willing ? you may hang else .

Bran.

No , I can't endure that I 'm sure , nor hardly th' other .

Mir. Come , Cialto ; Signior Brancadoro , So he may have your Friendship , is content . Cial.

What to do ?

Mir.

To restore your Estate again .

Cial. Well , I love peace ; he shall have an Assignment To receive his Money from the Senate . Bran.

That I shall never get ; but I must consent .

Mir.

Fear not , Signior ; you have the Publick Faith for 't .

Cial. Now , Samira , I can forgive my self , if I presume With my restor'd Fortunes too . Sam. Take heed , Sir ; for if you name it , That generous cause that forc'd me to declare I lov'd you , will urge me to despise you . Cial.

I am charm'd .

Bran.

I hope , noble Signior , you will forgive Villerotto too .

Cial. You are deceiv'd , Sir , 't is not Villerotto ; 'T is Borazzo . an ancient Friend of mine . Mir.

Pray forgive him , Sir ; he may repent .

Vill.

Yes , I do repent .

Mir.

That 's well said ; of what ?

Vill. Why , that I did not rifle those Treasuries , And leave you nothing to enjoy , but what I feel , the Torments of a vexed Soul : I shou'd have sitted them for your Embraces , And wou'd have taken care you shou'd have known it . Mir.

Bold impudent Dog ,

Cial. He was still furnish'd with too great a Courage ; So much boldness was not fit to have been trusted But in a Frame where it was ballanc'd with much Vertue . Mir.

Come , we 'l force him to be good .

Vil.

I think it must be forc'd .

Mir.

He will die snarling .

Vill.

I would die biting .

Bran.

Wou'd he had been hang'd before he bit me .

Mir. Here , come hither , you that were once his Creatures ; Take him up , that he may be deliver'd from us , Into the hands of the severest Justice . Vill. Do you believe my Spirit will endure Tamely to wait upon a formal Sentence , And stay till you shall force it out of doors ? No , I will hear these Wounds so wide , I 'll make it room enough to go , if it be willing . Enter Bottolo , after him Castruccio and Moreno . Cial.

Away with him .

Bot. What , no Body to be found in the house ? — Hey day , what 's gather'd together ! My Master ! my Mistress ! Mir.

See , Emilia , your Father , and my Uncle .

Bran.

Gentlemen , no words ; you remember our Bargain .

Cial.

Doubt us not .

Emil.

O , my dear Father , are you still as ready to forgive me as you were wont ?

Mor. If I were angry , the sight of thee Wou'd bring a Joy enough to force it from me . Mir.

Your pardon , Uncle , joyn'd to this , will make me and Emilia happy ▪

Cast. Is 't so ? was this the Trick on 't ? Well , well , What must be , must be ; I am Friends , Nephew ; I was partly in the Fault my self ; I dare swear I made thee half in love , with praising her . Well , — I am glad all troubles are at an end : But she shall still be so much mine , that I may give her to thee . Emil.

You honour me , to own a Title in me .

Sam. One Pardon more , Sir , for me , that in No other thing will ever disobey you . Cast.

What say you , Signior Brancadoro ?

Bran.

I say any thing , Sir . — God's my life , I can scarce hold from crying .

Cial. Many things , Sir , may seem strange to you ; But you shall know it all at better leisure . Mor. Come , no more ; but let forgiveness Dwell in every Breast : Back to the Nuptials now again ; This will scarce seem an interruption : Come , let 's away ; our Meat is hardly cold yet . Cial. The God of Love , if he can borrow Eyes , Will be more pleas'd with this new Sacrifice ; Since by that change which he himself has made , More equal Hearts are on his Altar laid . Exeunt .

FINIS .

THE COMMITTEE , A COMEDY . Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD .

LONDON , Printed for Henry Herringman , and are to be Sold by R. Bentley , J. Tonson , F. Saunders , and T. Bennet . M DC XCII .

Dramatis Personae . COlonel Carelesse . Colonel Blunt . Lieutenant Story . Committee-Men Nehemiah Catch . Joseph Blemish . Jonathan Headstrong . Ezekiel Scrape . Mr. Day , the Chair-man to the Committee . Abel , Son to Mr. Day . Obadiah , Clerk to the Committee . Tavern Boy . Bayliffs . Souldiers . Two Chair-Men . Gaol-Keeper . Servant to Mr. Day . A Stage Coachman . Bookseller . WOMEN . Mrs. Arbella . Mrs. Day . Mrs. Ruth . Mrs. Chat.

SCENE LONDON .

PROLOGUE . TO cheat the most Judicious Eyes , there be Ways in all Trades , but this of Poetry : Your Tradesman shews his Ware by some false Light , To hide the Faults , and slightness from your Sight . Nay , though 't is full of Bracks , he 'll boldly swear 'T is excellent , and so help off his Ware . He 'll rule your Judgment by his Confidence , Which in a Poet you 'd call Impudence ; Nay , if the World afford the like again , He swears he 'll give it you for nothing then : Those are words too a Poet dares not say ; Let it be good or bad , you 'r sure to pay . — Wou'd 't were a pen'worth ; — but in this you are Abler to judge than he that made the Ware : However his design was well enough , He try'd to shew some newer fashion'd Stuff . Not that the name Committee can be new , That has been too well known to most of you : But you may smile , for you have past your doom ; The Poet dares not , his is still to come .

THE COMMITTEE .

ACT I. SCENE I. Enter Mrs. Day , Mrs. Arbella , Mrs. Ruth , Colonel Blunt , and a Hackney-Coachman . Mrs Day enters brushing her Hoods , and Scarfs . Mrs Day . NOW out upon 't , how dusty 't is ; All things consider'd , 't is better Travelling in the Winter ; especially for us of the better sort , That ride in Coaches ; and yet to say truth , warm weather is Both pleasant and comfortable : 't is a thousand pities That fair weather should do any hurt . Well said , honest Coachman , thou hast done thy part : My Son Abel Paid for my place at Redding , did he not ? Coach .

Yes , and please you .

Mrs. Day . Well , there 's something Extraordinary to make thee drink . Coach . By my Whip , 't is a Groat of more Than ordinary thinness . — Aside . Plague on this new Gentry , how liberal they are . Farewel , Young Mistress ; farewel , Gentlemen : Pray when you come by Redding let Toby carry you . Exit Coachman . Mrs. Day . Why how now Mrs. Arbella ? What , sad ? why what 's the matter ? Arbel .

I am not very sad .

Mrs. Day . Nay , by my honour you need not ; If you knew as much as I. Well — I 'll tell you one thing , you are well enough , you need not fear Who ever does ; say I told you so , — if you do not hurt your Self : for as cunning as he is , and let him be as cunning as He will , I can see with half an eye , that my Son Abel Means to take care of you in your Composition , and will Needs have you his Guest : Ruth and you shall be Bed-fellows . I warrant that same Abel many and many a time Will wish his Sisters place ; or else his Father ne'r Got him : though I say it , that shou'd not say it , yet I do Say it — 't is a notable Fellow . — Arb. I am fallen into strange hands , If they prove as busie as her tongue — Aside . Mrs. Day . And now you talk of This same Abel , I tell you but one thing , I wonder that neither he nor my Husband's Honour 's Chief Clerk Obadiah , is not here ready to attend me : I Dare warrant my Son Abel has been here two hours Before us 'T is the veriest Princox ; He will ever be a galloping , and Yet he is not full one and twenty , for all his appearances : He never stole this trick of galloping ; his Father Was just such another before him , And wou'd gallop with the best of 'em : he and Mistress Busie's Husband were counted the best Horse-men in Redding , I and Berkshire to boot . I have rode formerly behind Mr. Busie , But in truth I cannot now endure to travel but in a Coach ; My own was at present in disorder , and so I was fain To shift in this ; but I warrant you , if his Honour , Mr. Day , Chair-man of the honourable Committee of Sequestrations , Shou'd know that his Wife rode in a Stage-Coach , he Wou'd make the House too hot for some . — Why , how is 't With you , Sir ? what , weary of your Journey ? To the Col. Col. Bl. Her tongue will never tire — Aside . So many , Mistress , riding in the Coach Has a little distemper'd me with heat . Mrs. Day . So many , Sir ? why there were but six . — What wou'd you say if I should tell you , That I was one of the eleven that travell'd At one time in one Coach ? Col. Bl.

O the Devil ! I have given her a new Theam —

Aside . Mrs. Day .

Why , I 'll tell you — Can you guess how 't was ?

Col. Bl.

Not I truly . But 't is no matter , I do believe it .

Mrs. Day . Look you , thus 't was ; There was , in the first place , my self , And my Husband , I shou'd have said first ; but his Honour Wou'd have pardoned me , if he had heard me ; Mr. Busie that I told you of , and his Wife ; The Mayor of Redding , and his Wife ; And this Ruth that you see there , in one of our Laps — But now , where do you think the rest were ? Col. Bl.

A top o' th' Coach sure .

Mrs. Day . Nay , I durst swear you wou'd Never guess — why — Wou'd you think it ; I had two growing in my Belly , Mrs. Busie one in hers , and Mrs. Mayoress of Redding A chopping Boy , as it proved afterwards in hers ; As like the Father as if it had been spit out of his mouth ; And if he had come out of his moth , he had come Out of as honest a Mans Mouth as any in forty Miles Of the head of him : For wou'd you think it , At the very same time when this same Ruth was sick , It being the first time the Girl was ever coach'd , The good Man Mr. Mayor , I mean , that I spoke of , Held his Hat for the Girl to ease her Stomach in . — Enter Abel and Obadiah . — O are you come , Long look't for comes at last . What , — you have a slow set pace , As well as your hasty scribble sometimes : Did you not think it sit , that I shou'd have found Attendance ready for me when I alighted . Obad. I ask your Honour's pardon ; for I do Profess unto your Ladiship I had attended sooner , But that his young Honour , Mr. Abel , Demurr'd me by his delays . Mrs. Day . Well , Son Abel , You must be obey'd , And I partly , if not , guess your business ; Providing for the entertainment of one I have in my eye ; Read her and take her : Ah , is 't not so ? Abel .

I have not been deficient in my care , Forsooth .

Mrs. Day . Will you never leave your Forsooths ? Art thou not asham'd To let the Clerk carry himself better , And shew more breeding than his Master's Son ? Abel . If it please your Honour , I have some business For your more private ear . Mrs. Day .

Very well .

Ruth . What a lamentable condition has That Gentleman been in , faith I pity him ? Arbil .

Are you so apt to pity men ?

Ruth . Yes , men that are humorsom , As I would children that are froward ; I wou'd not make them cry a purpose . Arbel Well , I like his humor , I dare Swear he 's plain and honest . Ruth . Plain enough of all conscience ; Faith I 'll speak to him . Arbel .

Nay prithee don 't , he 'l think thee rude ?

Ruth . Why then I 'll think him an Ass. — How is 't after your Journey , Sir ? C. Bl.

Why , I am worse after it .

Ruth .

Do you love riding in a Coach , Sir ?

C. Bl.

No , Forsooth , nor talking after riding in a Coach .

Ruth . I shou'd be loth To interrupt your Meditations , Sir : We may have the fruits hereafter . C. Bl. If you have , they shall break loose spite of my teeth ; This Spawn is as bad as the great Pike . Aside . Arbel .

Prithee peace : Sir — We wish you all happiness .

C. Bl. And quiet , good sweet Ladies , — I like her well enough . — Now wou'd not I have her say any more , for fear she Shou'd jeer too , and spoil my good opinion ; If 't were possible , I wou'd think well of one woman ▪ Mrs. Day . Come , Mrs. Arbella , 't is as I told you , Abel has done it ; say no more : take her by the hand , Abel . I profess she may venture to take thee for better , for worse : Come , Mrs. the honourable Committee will sit suddenly . Come , let 's along . Farewel , Sir . Exeunt . C. Bl. How , the Committee ready to sit . Plague Manet C. Blunt . On their Honours ; for so my honour'd Lady , That was one of the eleven , was pleas'd to call 'em . I had like to have come a day after the Fair : 'T is pretty , that such as I have been , must compound For their having been Rascals . Well , I must go look a Lodging , and a Solliciter : I 'll find the arrantest Rogue I can too : For , according to the old saying , Set a Thief to catch a Thief . Enter Col. Careless , and Lieutenant . C. Careless . Dear Blunt , well met , When came you , Man ? C. Bl. Dear Careless , I did not think to have met thee So suddenly . Lieutenant , your Servant ; I am landed just now , man . C. Car.

Thou speak'st as if thou had'st been at Sea ?

C. Bl.

It 's pretty well guest , I have been in a storm .

C. Car.

What business brought thee ?

C. Bl. May be the same with yours : I am come to Compound with their Honours . C. Car. That 's my business too ; Why , the Committee sits suddenly ? C. Bl. Yes , I know it ; I heard so in the storm I told thee of . C. Car.

What storm , Man ?

C. Bl. Why , a Tempest as high as ever blew from Woman's breath : I have rode in a Stage Coach , wedged in With half a dozen ; one of them was a Committee-man's Wife ; his Name is Day : And she accordingly will be call'd , Your Honour , and your Ladiship ; with a tongue that Wags as much faster than all other womens , as in the Several motions of a Watch , the hand of the minute Moves faster than that of the hours ▪ There was her Daughter too ; but a Bastard without question ; For she had no resemblance to the rest of the notch'd Rascals , and very pretty , and had wit enough To jeer a man in prosperity to death . — There was another Gentlewoman , And she was handsom , nay very handsom ; But I kept her from being as sad as the rest . C. Car.

Prithee , how man ?

C. Bl. Why , she began with two or three good words , And I desired her she would be quiet While she was well . C. Car.

Thou wei't not be so mad ?

C. Bl. I had been mad if I had not , — But when we came to our Journey 's end , there met us two Such formal and stately Rascals , That yet pretended Religion , And open Rebellion ever painted : It was the hopes , And guide of the honourable Family , viz. The eldest Son , And the chiefest Clerk-rogues — — — — — — — — And hereby hangs a tail . This Gentlewoman I told thee I kept civil , by desiring her to say nothing , Is a rich Heir of one that di'd in the King's Service , and left his Estate under Sequestration . This young Chicken has this Kite snatch'd up , And designs her for this her eldest Rascal . C. Car. What a dull Fellow wert thou , Not to make love , and rescue her ? C. Bl.

I 'll woo no Woman .

C. Car. Woud'st thou have them court thee ? A Soldier , and not love a Siege ! How now , who art thou ? Enter Teg. Teg. A poor Irishman , and Christ save me , and save you all ; I prithee give me Six-pence , gad Mastero . C. Car. Six-pence ? I see thou wou'dst not lose any thing For want of asking . Here , I am pretty near , There 's a Groat for thy confidence . Teg.

By my troth it is too little .

C. Car. Troth , like enough : How long hast thou been in England ? Teg.

Ever since I came hither , i'faith .

C. Car. That 's true ; what hast thou done Since thou cam'st into England ? Teg. Serv'd God and St. Patrick , and my good Sweet King , and my good sweet Master ; yes indeed . C. Car.

And what do'st thou do now ?

Teg.

Cry for them every day , upon my soul.

C. Car.

Why , where 's thy Master ?

Teg. He 's dead , Mastero , and left poor Teg ; Upon my soul , he never serv'd poor Teg so before . C. Car.

Who was thy Master ?

Teg.

E'en the good Colonel Danger .

C. Car.

He was my dear and noble friend .

Teg.

Yes , that he was , and poor Teg's too , i'faith now .

C. Car.

What do'st thou mean to do ?

Teg. I will get a good Master , if any good Master wou'd Get me ; I cannot tell what to do else , by my soul , that I cannot ; for I have went and gone to one Lilly's ; He lives at that house , at the end of another house , By the May-pole-house ; and tells every body by one Star , and 'tother Star , what good luck they shall have ; But he cou'd not tell nothing for poor Teg. C. Car.

Why , man ?

Teg. Why , 't is done by the Stars ; And he told me there were no Stars for Irishmen : I told him he told two or three lies upon my soul ; There were as many Stars in Ireland as in England , And more too , that there are ; and if a good Master Cannot get me , I will run into Ireland , and see If the Stars be not there still ; and if they be , I will come back i'faith , and beat his pate , If he will not then tell me some good luck , and some Stars . C. Car. Poor fellow , I pity him ; I fancy he 's simply Honest : Hast thou any Trade ? Teg. Bo , bub bub bo , a Trade , a Trade ! an Irishman a Trade ! An Irishman scorns a Trade , that he does ; I will Run for thee forty Miles ; but I scorn t' have a Trade . C. Bl.

Alas , poor simple fellow .

C. Car. I pity him ; nor can I indure to see any miserable That can weep for my Prince , and Friend . Well , Teg , what Sayest thou if I will take thee ? Teg.

Why , I will say thou wilt do very well then .

C. Car. Thy Master was my dear friend ; wert thou with Him when he was kill'd ? Teg. Yes , upon my soul , that I was , and I did houl over Him , and I askt him why he would leave poor Teg ; And i'faith I staid kissing his sweet face , till the Rogues came upon me and took away all from me ; And I was naked till I got this Mantle , that I was : I have never any Victuals neither , but a little Snuff . C. Car. Come , thou shalt live with me ; love me As thou did'st thy Master . Teg.

That I will i'faith , if thou would'st be good too .

C. Car. Now to our business ; for I came But last night my self ; and the Lieutenant and I Were just going to seek a Sollicitor . C. Bl. One may serve us all ; what say you , Lieutenant , Can you furnish us ? Lieu. Yes , I think I can help you to plough With a Heifer of their own . C. Car. Now I think on 't , Blunt , why did'st not Thou begin with the Committee-man's Cow ? C. Bl. Plague on her , she lowbell'd me so , That I thought of nothing , But stood shrinking like a dead Lark . Lieu. But hark you , Gentlemen , there 's an ill-tasting dose To be swallowed first ; there 's a Covenant to be taken . Teg. Well , what is that Covenant ? By my soul I will take it for my new Master , If I cou'd , that I wou'd . C. Car.

Thank thee , Teg — A Covenant , sayest thou ?

Teg.

Well , where is that Covenant ? —

C. Car.

We 'l not swear , Lieutenant .

Lieu.

You must have no Land then .

C. Bl.

Then farewel Acres , and may the dirt choak them .

C. Car. 'T is but being reduc'd to Teg's equipage ; 'T was a lucky thing to have a fellow that can Teach one this cheap diet of Snuff . Lieu. Come , Gentlemen , we must lose no more time ; I 'll carry you to my poor house , where you shall lodge : For know , I am married to a most illustrious person , That had a kindness for me . C. Car.

Prithee , how did'st thou light upon this good fortune ?

Lieu. Why , you see there are Stars in England , Though none in Ireland : Come , Gentlemen , Time calls us ; you shall have my story hereafter . C. Bl.

Plague on this Covenant .

Lieu.

Curse it not , 't will prosper then .

C. Car. Come , Teg , however I have a Suit of Cloaths for thee ; thou shalt lay by thy Blanket For some time : It may be thee and I may be Reduc'd together to thy Country fashion . Teg. Upon my Soul , Joy , for I will carry thee Then into my Countrey too . C. Car. Why , there 's the worst on 't , The best will help it self . Exeunt . Enter Mr. Day , and Mrs. Day . Mr. Day . Welcome , sweet Duck ; I profess Thou hast brought home good Company indeed ; Money and moneys worth : if we can But now make sure of this Heir , Mrs Arbella , For our Son Abel . Mrs. Day . If we can ? you are ever at your ( Ifs ; ) You 'r afraid of your own shadow ; I can tell you One ( if ) more ; that is ( if ) I did not bear you up , Your heart wou'd be down in your Breeches At every turn : well , — if I were gone , There 's another If for you . Mr. Day . I profess thou sayest true , I shou'd not know what to do indeed ; I am beholding to thy good counsel for many Good thing ; I had ne'r got Ruth Nor her Estate into my Fingers else . Mrs. Day . Nay , in that business too you were at Your ( Ifs : ) Now you see she goes currantly For our own Daughter , and this Arbella shall be Our Daughter too , or she shall have no Estate . Mr. Day .

If we cou'd but do that , Wife ?

Mrs. Day .

Yet again at your Ifs.

Mr. Day . I have done , I have done ; your counsel , Good Duck ; you know I depend upon that . Mrs. Day . You may well enough , you find The sweet on 't ; and to say truth , 't is known too well , That you relied upon it : In truth they are ready To call me the Committe-man : they well Perceive the weight that lies upon me , Husband . Mr. Day . Nay , good Duck , no chiding now , But to your counsel . Mrs. Day . In the first place ( observe how I lay a design In Politicks ) d' ye mark , counterfeit me A Letter from the King , where he shall offer you great Matters to serve him , and his Interest under-hand . Very good , and in it let him remember his kind Love and Service to me : This will make them look About 'em , and think you some body : then promise them If they 'll be true Friends to you , to live and dye With them , and refuse all great offers , then whilst 't is warm Get the composition of Arbella's Estate into your own power , Upon your design of marrying her to Abel . Mr. Day .

Excellent .

Mrs. Day . Mark the luck on 't too , their names sound alike ; Abel and Arbella , they are the same to a trisle , It seemeth a providence . Mr. Day . Thou observest right , Duck , Thou canst see as far into a Milstone as another . Mrs. Day .

Pish , do not interrupt me .

Mr. Day .

I do not , good Duck , I do not .

Mrs. Day . You do not , and yet you do ; You put me off from the concatenation of my discourse : Then , as I was saying , you may intimate To your honourable Fellows , that one good turn Deserves another . That language is understood amongst you . I take it , ha . Mr. Day .

Yes , yes , we use those Items often .

Mrs. Day .

Well , interrupt me not .

Mr. Day .

I do not , good Wife .

Mrs. Day . You do not , and yet you do ; By this means get her composition put wholly into your hands , And then no Abel , no Land , — but — in the mean time I wou'd have Abel do his part too . Mr. Day .

I , I , there 's a want I found it .

Mrs. Day .

Yes , when I told you so before .

Mr. Day . Why , that 's true , Duck , he is too backward ; If I were in his place , and as young as I have been . Mrs. Day . O you 'd do wonders ; but now I think on 't , There may be some use made of Ruth ; 'T is a notable witty Harlotry . — You were so , when I told you I had thought on 't first , — let me see , it shall be so : We 'll set her to instruct Abel in the first place ; And then to incline Arbella , they are Hand and Glove ; And Women can do much with one another . Mr. Day .

Thou hast hit upon my own thoughts . —

Mrs. Day . Pray call her in ; You thought of that too , did you not ? Mr. Day .

I will , Duck ; Ruth , why , Ruth .

Enter Ruth . Ruth .

Your pleasure , Sir .

Mr. Day .

Nay , 't is my Wife's desire that —

Mrs. Day . Well , if it be your Wife 's , she can best tell It her self , I suppose : d' ye hear , Ruth , you may Do a business that may not be the worse for you : You know I use but few words . Ruth .

What does she call a few ? —

Aside . Mrs. Day . Look you now , as I said , to be short , And to the matter , my Husband and I do design this Mrs. Arbella for our Son Abel , and the young Fellow is not forward enough you conceive , prethee give Him a little instructions how to demean himself , And in what manner to speak , which we call address , To her ; for Women best know what will please Women ; Then work on Arbella on the other side , work , I say , My good Girl , no more but so : you know my custom Is to use but few words . Much may be said in a little , You shan't repent it . Mr. Day .

And I say something too , Ruth .

Mrs. Day . What need you , do you not see it all Said already to your hand , what sayest thou , Girl ? Ruth . I shall do my best . — I wou'd not lose The sport for more than I speak of . — Aside . Mrs. Day . Go call Abel , good Girl . By bringing this To pass Husband , we shall secure our selves If the King shou'd come ; you 'l be hanged else . Exit Ruth . Mr. Day . Oh good Wife , let 's secure our selves By all means , there 's a wise saying , 'T is good to have a Shelter against every storm . I remember that . Mrs. Day .

You may well , when you heard me say it so often .

Enter Ruth with Abel . Mr. Day .

O Son Abel , d' ye hear .

Mrs. Day . Pray hold your peace , And give every body leave to tell their own tale . — D'hear , Son Abel , I have formerly told you That Arbella wou'd be a good Wife for you ; A word 's enough to the wise : some endeavours must Be used , and you must not be desicient . I have spoken To your Sister Ruth to instruct you what to say , And how to carry your self ; observe her Directions as You 'll answer the contrary ; be consident , and put home . Ha Boy , hadst thou but thy Mother's pate . Well , 'T is but a folly to talk of that that cannot be ; Be sure you follow your Sister's directions . Mr. Day . Be sure , Boy . — Well said Duck , I say . Exeum : Manet Ruth and Abel . Ruth .

Now , Brother Abel .

Ab.

Now , Sister Ruth ?

Ruth . Hitherto he observes me punctually , Aside . Have you a Months mind to this Gentlewoman , Mistress Arbella ? Ab.

I have not known her a Week yet .

Ruth . O cry you mercy , good Brother Abel . Well , to begin then , You must alter your posture , And by your grave and high demeanour make your self Appear a hole above Obadiah ; lest your Mistress Should take you for such another scribble scrabble as he is , And always hold up your head as if it were Bolster'd up with high matters , your hands join'd Flat together , projecting a little beyond the rest of your Body as ready to separate when you begin to open . Abel .

Must I go apace or softly .

Ruth . O gravely by all means , as if you were loaded With weighty considerations so . — Very well . Now to apply our prescription : Suppose now that I Were your Mistress Arbella , and meet you by Accident ; keep your posture so , and when you come Just to me , start like a Horse that has spy'd Something on one side of him , and give a little gird Out of the way on a sudden ; declaring that you Did not see her before , by reason of your deep Contemplations : then you must speak , let 's hear . Abel .

God save you , Mistress .

Ruth . O sie Man , you shou'd begin thus ; Pardon , Mistress , my profound Contemplations , in which I was so Buried that I did not see you : And then as she answers proceed . I know what she 'll say , I am so us'd to her . Abel .

This will do well if I forget it not .

Ruth .

Well , try once .

Abel . Pardon , Mistress , my profound Contemplations , In which I was so hid , that you cou'd not see me . Ruth . Better sport than I expected . Aside . Very well done , you 'r perfect : then she will answer , Sir , I suppose you are so busied with State-affairs , That it may well hinder you from taking notice Of any thing below them . Abel . No forsooth , I have some profound Contemplations , but no State-Affairs . Ruth . O sie , Man , you must confess , that the weighty Affairs of State lie heavy upon you ; but 't is a burthen You must bear , and then shrug your shoulders . Ab. Must I say so , I am afraid my Mother will be angry , For she takes all the State-matters upon her self . Ruth . Pish , did she not charge you to be rul'd by me ; Why , Man , Arbella will never have you ; If she be not made believe you can do great matters With Parliament Men , and Committee Men ; How shou'd she hope for any good By you else in her composition . Ab.

I apprehend you now , I shall observe .

Ruth . 'T is well at this time , I 'll say no more ; Put your self in your posture so : Now go look your Mistress ; I 'll warrant you the Town 's our own . Abel .

I go .

Exit Abel . Ruth . Now I have fix'd him , not to go off Till he discharges on his Mistress . I cou'd burst with laughing . Enter Arbella . Arb.

What do'st thou laugh at , Ruth ?

Ruth .

Didst thou meet my Brother Abel ?

Arb.

No.

Ruth . If thou hadst met him right , He had played at hard head with thee . Arb.

What do'st thou mean ;

Ruth . Why , I have been teaching him to wooe , By command of my Superiours , and have instructed Him to hold up his head so high , that of necessity he must Run against every thing that comes in his way . Arb.

Who is he to wooe ?

Ruth .

Even thy own sweet self .

Arb.

Out upon him .

Ruth . Nay , thou wilt be rarely courted ; I 'll not spoil the sport by telling thee any Thing beforehand ; they have sent to Lilly , And his learning being built upon knowing what most People wou'd have him say : He has told them for a certain , That Abel shall Have a rich Heir , and that must be you . Arb.

Must be .

Ruth .

Yes , Committee-Men can compel more than Stars .

Arb. I fear this too late ; You are their Daughter , Ruth ? Ruth .

I deny that .

Arb.

How ?

Ruth . Wonder not that I begin thus freely with you , 'T is to invite your confidence in me . Arb.

You amaze me .

Ruth . Pray do not wonder , nor suspect , — When my Father , Sir Basil Throughgood , died , I was Very young , not above two years old : 't is too long To tell you how this Rascal , being a Trustee , Catch'd me and my Estate , being the sole Heir unto my Father , into his gripes ; and now for some years Has confirm'd his unjust power by the unlawful Power of the times : I fear they have designs as bad as This on you : You see I have no reserve , and endeavour To be thought worthy of your friendship Arb. I embrace it with as much clearness , Let us love and assist one another . — Wou'd they marry me to this their first-born Puppy ? Ruth .

No doubt , or keep your composition from you .

Arb. 'T was my ill fortune to fall into such hands , Foolishly enticed by fair words and Large promises of assistance . Ruth .

Peace .

Enter Obadiah . Obad. Mrs. Ruth , my Master is demanding your company , Together , and not singly , with Mrs. Arbella ; You will find them in the Parlor : The Committee being ready to sit , Calls upon my care and circumspection to set in order The weighty matters of State , For their wise and honourable inspection . Exit . Ruth . We come ; come , dear Arbella , never be perplex'd , Chearful Spirits are the best Bladders to swim with : If thou art sad , the weight will sink thee : Be secret , and still know me for no other than what I seem to be , their Daughter . Another time Thou shalt know all particulars of my strange story . Arb. Come , Wench , they cannot bring us to compound For our humours ; they shall be free still . Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Teg. Teg. I' Faith my sweet Master has sent me to a Rascal , now that he has ; I will go tell him so too : He ask'd me why he could not send one That cou'd speak English . Upon my soul , I was going To give him an Irish knock ; the Devil 's in them all , They will not talk with me ; I will go near to Knock this man's pate , and that man , Lilly's One cries Books within . Enter . Pate too , — that I will : I will make them Prate to me , that I will . How now , What Noises are that ? — Book-sel . New Books , new Books , a desperate Plot And Ingagement of the bloody Cavaliers : One cries Books without . Mr. Saltmarsh's Alarum to the Nation , after having Been three days dead , Mercurius Britannicus , &c. Teg. How 's that ? now they cannot live in Ireland After they are dead three days ! Book-sel . Mercurius Britannicus , or the Weekly Post , Or , The Solemn League and Covenant . Teg. What is that you say ? Is it the Covenant , have you that ? Book-sel .

Yes , what then , Sir ?

Teg.

Which is that Covenant ?

Book-sel .

Why , this is the Covenant .

Teg.

Well , I must take that Covenant .

Book-sel .

You take my Commodities ?

Teg.

I must take that Covenant , upon my soul now , that I must .

Book-sel .

Stand off , Sir , or I 'll set you further .

Teg. Well , upon my soul , now I will take That Covenant for my Master . Book-sel .

Your Master must pay me for 't then ?

Teg. I'faith now , they will make him pay for 't After I have taken it for him . Book-sel .

What a Devil does the fellow mean ?

Teg. You will make me stay too long , that you will ; Look you now , I will knock you down upon the ground , If you will not let me take it ? Book-sel .

Stand off , Sirrah .

Teg.

I'faith I will take it now .

He throws the fellow down , and takes away the Paper , and runs out . Book-sel . What a Devil ails this fellow ? He did not come to rob me certainly , For he has not taken above two Penniworth of lamentable Ware away ; But I feel the Rascal's fingers ; I may light Upon my wild Irish again , and if I do , I will fix him with some Catchpoles that shall Be worse than his own Country Bogs . Enter C. Careless , C. Blunt , and Lieutenant Story . Lieu. And what say you , noble Colonels , how and how D' ye like my Lady ? I gave her the Title of Illustrious From those Illustrious Commodities which she deals in , Hot Water , and Tobacco . C. Car.

Prithee how com'st thou to think of Marrying ?

Lieu. Why , that which hinders men from those Venereal Conditions , prompted me to Matrimony , Hunger and Cold , Colonel . C. Car. Which you destroyed with a fat Woman , Strong Water , and stinking Tobacco . Lieu. No , faith , the Woman conduc'd but little , But the rest cou'd not be purchas'd without . C. Car.

She 's beholding to you .

Lieu. For all your mocking she had been ruin'd If it had not been for me . C. Car.

Prethee make but that good ?

Lieu. With ease , Sir , why look you , — you must Know she was always a most violent Cavalier , And of a most ready and large Faith ; abundance of Rascals had found her soft place , and perpetually Wou'd bring her News , news of all prizes , They would tell her news from half a Crown , to a Gill of hot Water , or a Pipe of the worst Mundungo : I have observ'd their usual rates ; they wou'd borrow Half a Crown upon a story of five thousand Men up In the North ; a shilling upon a Towns revolting , Six pence upon a small Castle , and consume hot Water And Tobacco , whilst they were telling news of Arms , Convey'd into several parts , and Ammunition hid In Cellars ; that at the last , if I had not married , And blown off these flies , she had been absolutely consum'd . C. Car. Well , Lieutenant , we are beholding to you For these hints ; we may be reduc'd to as bad : See Where Teg comes . Goodness , how he smiles . Enter Teg smiling . Why so merry , Teg ? Teg.

I have done one thing for thee now , that I have indeed .

C. Car.

What hast thou done , Man ?

Teg. I have taken the Covenant for thee , That I have upon my Soul . C. Car.

Where hadst it thou ?

Teg. Hadst it thou ; I threw a Fellow down , that I did , And took it away for thy sweet sake ; here it is now . C. Car. Was there ever such a fancy ? why didst thou think This was the way to take the Covenant ? Teg. Ay , upon my Soul that it is ; look you there now , Have not I taken it ; is not this the Covenant ? Tell me that then I prethee . C. Bl. I am pleased yet , With the poor Fellows mistaken kindness ; I dare warrant him honest to the best of his understanding . C. Car. This Fellow I prophesie will bring me into Many troubles by his mistakes : I must send him on No Errand but , How d'ye ; and to such as I wou'd have No answer from again : — Yet his simple honesty Prevails with me , I cannot part with him . Lieu.

Come , Gentlemen , some calls ; how now , who 's this ?

Enter Obadiah , with four Persons more with Papers . C. Car. I am a Rogue if I have not seen a Picture In hangings walk as fast . C. Bl. 'Slife Man , this is that good Man of the Committee Family that I told thee of , the very Clerk ; How the Rogue 's loaded with Papers ; Those are The winding sheets to many a poor Gentleman's Estate : 'T were a good deed to burn them all . C. Car. Why , thou art not mad , art ? well met Sir ; Pray do not you belong to the Committee of Sequestrations ? Obad. I do belong to that honourable Committee , Who are now ready to sit for the bringing on the work . C. Bl.

O Plague , what work , Ras —

C. Car.

Prethee be quiet , Man ; are they to sit presently ?

Obad.

As soon as I can get ready , my presence being material .

Exit . C Car. What , wert thou mad ; wou'dst thou have beaten The Clerk when thou wert going to compound With the Rascals his Masters . C. Bl.

The sight of any of the Villains stirs me .

Lieu. Come , Colonels , there 's no tristing ; Let 's make haste , and prepare your business , let 's not lose This sitting , come along , along . Exeunt . Enter Arbella at one Door . Abel at another , as if he saw her not , and starts when he comes to her , as Ruth had taught him . Arb.

What 's the meaning of this , I 'll try to steal by him .

Abel . Pardon , Mistress , my profound Contemplations , In which I was so hid that you cou'd not see me . Arb. This is a set Form , — they allow it In every thing but their Prayers . Abel .

Now you shou'd speak , Forsooth .

Arb. Ruth , I have found you ; But I 'll spoil the Dialogue . Aside . — What shou'd I say , Sir ? Abel .

What you please , Forsooth .

Arb.

Why , truly , Sir , 't is as you say ; I did not see you .

Enter Ruth as over hearing them , and Peeps . Ruth .

This is lucky .

Abel .

No , Forsooth , 't was I that was not to see you .

Arb.

Why , Sir , wou'd your Mother be angry if you shou'd ?

Abel . No , no , quite contrary , — I 'll tell you that presently ; But first I must say , that the weighty affairs lie Heavy upon my Neck and Shoulders . Shrugs . Arb. Wou'd he were ty'd Neck and Heels ? Aside . This is a notable Wench ; look where the Rascal peeps too ; If I shou'd becken to her she 'd take no notice ; She 's resolv'd not to relieve me . Aside . Ab. Something I can do , and that with some body ; That is , with those that are some bodies . Arb. Whist , whist , Beckons to Ruth , and she shakes her head . Prethee have some pity ? O unmerciful Girl . Abel . I know Parliament-men , and Sequestrators ; I know Committee-men , and Committee-men know me . Arb.

You have great acquaintance , Sir ?

Abel .

Yes , they ask my opinion sometimes .

Arb.

What weather 't will be ; have you any skill , Sir ?

Abel .

When the weather is not good , we hold a Fast.

Arb.

And then it alters .

Abel .

Assuredly .

Arb.

In good time — no mercy , Wench .

Abel . Our profound Contemplations Are caused by the constervation of our Spirits For the Nations good , we are in labour . Arb. And I want a deliverance . Hark ye , Ruth , Take off your Dog , or I 'll turn Bear indeed . Ruth .

I dare not , my Mother will be angry .

Arb.

O hang you .

Ab. You shall perceive that I have some power , If you please to — Arb. O I am pleased ! Sir , that you shou'd have power ; I must look out my Hoods and Scarfs , Sir , 't is a most time to go . Ab. If it were not for the weighty matters of State Which lie upon my shoulders , my self wou'd look them . Arb. O by no means , Sir , 't is below your greatness : Some luck yet ; she never came seasonably before . Enter Mrs. Day . Mrs. Day . Why how now , Abel got so close to Mrs. Arbella , So close indeed ; nay then I smell something : Well , Mr. Abel , you have been so us'd to secresie In Council and weighty matters , that you have it At your Fingers ends : Nay , look ye Mistress , look ye , Look ye ; mark Abel's Eyes : ah , there be looks . Ruth thou art a good Girl , I find Abel has got ground . Ruth . I forbore to come in , till I saw your honour First enter ; but I have o'r heard all . Mrs. Day .

And how has Abel behav'd himself , Wench , ha ?

Ruth . O beyond expectation : if it were lawful , I 'd undertake He 'd make nothing to get as many Womens good Wills as he speaks to ; he 'll not need much teaching , You may turn him loose . Arb.

O this plaguy Wench !

Mrs. Day . Sayest thou so Girl , it shall be something In thy way ; a new Gown , or so , it may be a better penny : Well said , Abel , I say , I did think thou wou'dst come Out with a piece of thy Mothers at last : — But I had forgot , the Committee are near upon sitting . Ha , Mrs. you are crafty ; you have made your Composition before-hand . Ah , this Abel's as bad As a whole Committee : Take that Item from me ; Come , make haste , call the Coach , Abel ; well said , Abel , I say . Arb. We 'll fetch our things and follow you . Exit Mrs. Day and Abel . Now Wench , canst thou ever hope to be forgiven : Ruth .

Why , what 's the matter ?

Arb. The matter ; coud'st thou be so unmerciful , To see me practic'd on , and pelted at , by a Blunderbuss Charg'd with nothing but proofs , weighty affairs , Spirit , profound Contemplation , and such like . Ruth . Why , I was afraid to interrupt you ; I thought It convenient to give you what time I cou'd , To make his young honour your Friend . Arb.

I am beholding to you , I may cry quittance .

Ruth . But did you mark Abel's Eyes ? Ah , there were looks ! Arb. Nay , prethee give off , my hour 's approaching , And I cann't be heartily merry till it be past : Come , let 's fetch our things , Her Ladyships Honour will stay for us . Ruth . I 'll warrant ye my Brethren , Abel is not in order yet , He 's brushing a Hat almost a quarter of an hour , And as long a driving the lint from his black Cloaths , With his wet Thumb . Arb. Come , prethee hold thy peace , I shall laugh in 's Face else when I see him come along : Now for an old Shooe . Exeunt . A Table set out . Enter the Committee as to sit , and Obadiah ordering Books and Paper . Obad. Shall I read your Honours last Order , and give you The account of what you last debated ? Mr. Day . I first crave your favours to communicate an Important matter to this honourable Board , in which I shall Discover unto you my own sincerity And zeal to the good Cause . 1. Proceed , Sir . Mr. Day . The business is contained in this Letter , 't is from No less a Man than the King ; and 't is to me , as simple as I sit Here : Is it your pleasures that our Clerk should read it ? 2. Yes , pray give it him . Obad. Reads . Mr. Day , We have received good intelligence of your great worth , And ability , especially in State-matters ; and therefore thought Fit to offer you any preferment , or honour , that you shall desire , If you will become my intire Friend : Pray remember my Love and Service to your discreet Wife , and acquaint her With this ; whose wisdom I hear is great : so recommending This to her and your wise consideration , I remain Your Friend , C. K. 2. C. K. Mr. Day . I , that 's for the King . 2. I suspect who brought you this Letter . Mr. Day . O fie upon 't , my Wife forgot that particular . — Why , a Fellow left it for me , and shrunk away when he had Done , I warrant you he was afraid I shou'd have laid hold On him : You see Brethren what I reject ; but I doubt not But to receive my reward : and I have now a business To offer , which in some measure may afford you an occasion . 2. This Letter was counterfeited certainly . Mr. Day . But first be pleased to read your last order . 2. What does he mean that concerns me ? Obad. The order is , that the Composition arising out of Mr. Lashley's Estate , be and hereby is invested and allow'd to The honourable Mr. Nathaniel Catch , For and in respect of his sufferings and good service . Mr. Day . It is meet , very meet , we are bound In duty to strengthen our selves against the day of trouble , When the common Enemy shall endeavour to raise Commotions in the Land , And disturb our new built Zion . 2. Then I 'll say nothing , but close with him , we must Wink at one another ; I receive your sense Of my services with a zealous kindness . Now , Mr. Day , I pray you propose your business . Mr. Day . I desire this honourable Board to understand , That my Wife being at Redding , and to come up in The Stage Coach : It happened that one Mrs. Arbella , A rich Heir of one of the Cavalier Party , came up also in , The same Coach ; her Father being newly dead , and her Estate before being under Sequestration : My Wife , who Has a notable pate of her own ; you all know her ; Presently cast about to get her for my Son Abel ; And accordingly invited her to my House ; where , though Time was but short , yet my Son Abel made use of it : They are without , as I suppose ; but Before we call them in , I pray let us handle Such other matters as are before us . 1. Let us hear then what Estates besides Lies before us , that we may see how large a Field we have to walk in . 2. Read . Obad. One of your last Debates was upon the Plea Of an Infant , whose Estate is under Sequestration . Mr. Day . And sit to be kept so till he comes of Age , And may answer for himself ; that he may not Be in possession of the Land till he can promise He will not turn to the Enemy . Obad. Here is another of almost the like nature ; An Estate before your Honours under Sequestration : The Plea is , That the Party died without any — For taking up Arms ; but in his Opinion for the King : He has left his Widow with Child , which will Be the Heir ; and his Trustees complain of wrong , And claim the Estate . 2. Well , the Father in his Opinion was a Cavalier . Obad.

So it is given in .

2 C. Nay , 't was so I warrant you , and there 's a young Cavalier in his Widows Belly ; I warrant you that too ; For the perverse Generation encreaseth ; I move Therefore that their two Estates may remain in the hands Of our Brethren here , and Fellow Labourers , Mr. Joseph Blemish , and Mr. Jonathan Headstrong , And Mr. Ezekiel Scrape , and they to be accountable At our pleasures ; whereby they may have a godly Opportunity of doing good for themselves . Mr. Day . Order it , order it . 3. Since it is your pleasures , we are content To take the burthen upon us , and be Stewards to the Nation . 2. Now verily it seemeth to me That the work goeth forward , when Brethren Hold together in Unity . Mr. Day . Well , if we have now finish'd , give me leave To tell you , my Wife is without , together with The Gentlewoman that is to compound : She will Needs have a Finger in the Pie . 3. I profess we are to blame to let Mrs. Day wait so long . Mr. Day . We may not neglect the publick for private Respects . I hope Brethren , that you please to cast the Favour of your Countenances upon Abel . 2 , 3. You wrong us to doubt it , Brother Day . Call in the Compounders . Enters Mrs. Day , Abel , Arbella , Ruth , and after them the Colonels , and Teg ; they give the Door-Keeper something , who seems to scrape . Mr. Day . Come , Duck , I have told the honourable Committee That you are one that will needs endeavour To do good for this Gentlewoman . 2. We are glad , Mrs. Day , that any occasion brings you hither . Mrs. Day . I thank your honours . I am desirous of doing Good , which I know is always acceptable in your Eyes . Mr. Day .

Come on Son Abel , what have you to say ?

Abel . I come unto your Honours , full of profound Contemplations for this Gentlewoman . Arb.

'Slife , he 's at 's lessen , Wench .

Ruth . Peace , which Whelp opens next ? O the Wolf is going to bark . Mrs. Day . May it please your Honours , I shall presume To inform you , that my Son Abel has setled his affections On this Gentlewoman , and desires your Honours favour To be shewn unto him in her Composition . 2. C. Say you so , Mrs. Day ? why the Committee have taken It into their serious , and pious consideration ; together With Mr. Day 's good service , upon some knowledge That is not fit to communicate . Mrs. Day .

That was the Letter I invented .

Aside . 2 C. And the composition of this Gentlewoman is consign'd To Mr. Day , that is , I suppose , to Mr. Abel , and so consequently To the Gentlewoman . You may be thankful , Mistress , For such good fortune , your Estate 's discharg'd , Mr. Day shall have the discharge . C. Bl.

O dam the Vultures !

C. Care .

Peace Man .

Arb. I am willing to be thankful when I understand the Benefit . I have no reason to compound for what 's my own ; But if I must , if a Woman can be a Delinquent , I desire to know my publick censure , Not be left in private hands . 2 C. Be contented , Gentlewoman , the Committee does this In favour of you ; we understand how easily you Can satisfie Mr. Abel ; you may , if you please , by Mrs. Day . Ruth .

And then good night to all .

Aside . Arb. How , Gentlemen ! are you private marriage Jobbers , D' ye make markets for one another ? 2 C.

How 's this Gentlewoman ?

C. Bl.

A brave noble Creature .

C. Car. Thou art smitten , Blunt ; that other Female too , Methinks shoots fire this way . Mrs. Day . I desire your Honours to pardon Her incessant words ; perhaps she doth not imagine The good that is intended her ? 2 C. Gentlewoman , the Committee for Mrs. Day 's sake Passes by your expressions ; you may spare your pains , You have the Committees resolution , you may Be your own Enemy if you will . Arb.

My own Enemy .

Ruth . Prethee peace , 't is to no purpose to wrangle here ; We must use other ways . 2 . C.

Come on , Gentlemen , what 's your case ?

Ruth . Arbella , there 's the down-right Cavalier That came up in the Coach with us . — On my Life there 's a sprightly Gentleman with him . C. Care . Our business is to compound for our Estates . While they speak , the Colonels pull the Papers out and deliver 'em . Of which here are the particulars , Which will agree with your own Survey . Obad.

The particulars are right .

Mr. Day . Well , Gentlemen , the rule is two years purchase , The first payment down , the other at six months end , And the Estate to secure it . C. Car.

Can you afford it no cheaper ?

2 C.

'T is our rule .

C. Car. Very well , 't is but selling the rest to pay this , And our more lawful debts . 2. But , Gentlemen , before you are admitted , You are to take the Covenant ; You have not taken it yet , have you . C. Car

No.

Teg. Upon my Soul but he has now ; I took it for him , And he has taken it from me , that he has . Ruth .

What sport are we now like to have ?

2 C.

What Fellow 's that ?

C. Car.

A poor simple Fellow that serves me . Peace , Teg.

Teg.

Let them not prate so then .

2 C. Well , Gentlemen , it remains Whether you 'll take the Covenant ? C. Car. This is strange , and differs from your own Principle , To impose on other Mens Consciences . Mr. Day . Pish , we are not here to dispute , we act According to our instructions , and we cannot admit any To compound without taking it ; therefore your answer . Teg. Why was it for no matter then that I have taken The Covenant . You there , Mr. Committee , Do you hear that now ? C. Car. No , we will not take it , much good may it do them That have swallows large enough ; 'T will work one day in their Stomachs . Cl. Bl. The day may come , when those that suffer for their Consciences and honour may be rewarded . Mr. Day .

I , I , you make an Idol of that honour .

C. Bl. Our Worships then are different , you make that Your Idol which brings your Interest ; We can obey that which bids us lose it . Arb.

Brave Gentlemen .

Ruth .

I stare at 'em till my Eyes ake .

2 C. Gentlemen , you are men of dangerous Spirits , Know , we must keep our rules , and instructions , lest we Lose what providence hath put into our hands . C Care .

Providence , such as Thieves rob by ?

2. C.

What 's that , Sir , Sir , you are too bold ?

C. Car. Why in good sooth you may give losers Leave to speak ; I hope your Honours out of your bowels of Compassion , will permit us to take over our departing Acres . Mr. Day .

It is well you are so merry .

C. Car. O , ever whil'st you live , clear souls make light hearts ; Faith , wou'd I might ask one question ? 2 C.

Swear not then .

C Car. Thou shalt not covet thy Neighbours Goods ; There 's a Rowland for your Oliver ; my question is only , Which of all you is to have our Estates : or will you Make Traitors of them , draw 'em , and quarter them . 2 C.

You grow abusive .

C. Bl. No , no , 't is only to entreat the honourable persons That will be pleased to be our House-keepers , to keep them In good Reparations ; we may take possession again Without the help of the Covenant . 2 C.

You will think better on 't , and take this Covenant .

C. Car. We will be as rotten first as their hearts That invented it . Ruth . 'Slife , Arbella , we 'l have these two men ; There are not two such again , to be had for love nor money . Mr. Day . Well , Gentlemen , your follies light upon your Own heads ; we have no more to say . C. Car. Why then hoist Sails for a new World : D'hear , Blunt , what Gentlewoman is that ? C. Bl.

'T is their witty Daughter I told thee of .

C. Car. I 'll go to speak to 'em , I 'd fain convert That pretty Covenanter . C. Bl.

Nay , prithee let 's go .

C. Car. Lady , I hope you 'l have that good fortune , Not to be troubled with the Covenant . Arb.

If they do , I 'll not take it .

C. Bl.

Brave Lady , I must love her against my will .

C. Car. For you , pretty one , I hope your Portion will Be enlarged by our Misfortunes ; remember your benefactors . Ruth . If I had all your Estates , I cou'd afford you as good a thing . C. Car.

Without taking the Covenant ?

Ruth .

Yes , but I would invent another Oath .

C. Car.

Upon your Lips .

Ruth .

Nay , I am not bound to discover .

C. Bl.

Prithee come , is this a time to spend in fooling ?

C. Car.

Now have I forgot every thing .

C. Bl. Come , let 's go . 2. Gentlemen , void the Room . C Car. Sure 't is impossible that Kite Shou'd get that pretty Merlin . C. Bl. Come , prithee let 's go ; these Muck-worms will have Earth enough to stop their mouths with one day . C. Car. Pray use our Estates husband-like , and so our Most honourable Bailiffs , farewel . Mr. Day .

You are rude : Door-keeper , put 'em forth there .

Keep .

Come forth , ye there ; this is not a place for such as you .

Teg.

Ye are a Rascal , that you are now .

Keep . And please your Honours , this profane Irish-man swore An Oath at the door , even now , when I Wou'd have put him out . 2 C.

Let him pay for 't .

Keep .

Here , you must pay , or lye by the heels .

Teg. What must I pay , by the heels ? I will not pay by ●● heels , that I will not , upon my soul 〈…〉 .

Here , here 's a Shilling for thee , be quiet . —

Exeunt . 〈…〉 . Well , I have not curs'd you now , that I have not : 〈…〉〈…〉 I had cursed then ? Keep .

That had been Six-pence .

Teg. Upon my soul now , I have but one Six-pence , that I Have not : Here , though , I will give it thee for a Curse ; there Mr. Committee , now there is Six-pence for the Curse before-hand , Mr. Committee , and a Plague take you all . Runs out . Ruth .

Hark ye , Arbella , 't were a sin not to love these men .

Arb.

I am not guilty , Ruth .

Mrs. Day .

Has this honourable Board any other Command .

2 C. Nothing farther , good Mrs. Day : Gentlewoman , You have nothing to care for , but be grateful And kind to Mr. Abel . Arb. I desire to know what I must directly trust to , Or I will complain . Mrs. Day . The Gentlewoman needeth not doubt , she shall Suddenly perceive the good that is intended her , If she does not interpose in her own light . Mr. Day . I pray withdraw ; the Committee has pass'd their Order , and they must now be private — 2 Com. Nay , pray , Mistress , withdraw — So , Brethren , we have Finish'd this day's work ; and let us always keep The Bonds of Unity unbroken , walking hand in Hand , and scattering the Enemy . Mr. Day . You may perceive they have Spirits never to be Reconcil'd ; they walk according to Nature , and are Full of inward darkness . 2 Com. It is well truly for the good people , that they Are so obstinate , whereby their Estates may Of right fall into the hands of the chosen , which Truly is a mercy . Mr. Day . I think there remaineth nothing farther , But to adjourn till Munday : Take up the Papers there , and bring home to me their Honours Order for Mrs. Arbella's Estate : So , Brethren , we separate our selves to our Particular endeavours , till we join in Publick on Munday , two of the Clock ; And so Peace remain with you . Exeunt .

ACT III. SCENE I. Col. Careless , Col. Blunt , and Lieutenant . Lieu. BY my faith , a sad Story : I did apprehend this Covenant Wou'd be the Trap. C. Car. Never did any Rebels fish with such Cormorants ; no Stoppage about their throats ; the Rascals are all swallow . C. Bl. Now am I ready for any Plot ; I 'll go find some of these Agitants , and fill up a blank Commission with my Name . And if I can but find two or three gather'd together , They are sure of me ; I will please my self , however , With endeavouring to cut their throats . C. Car. Or do something to make them hang us , that we may But part on any terms : Nothing anger'd me but that My old Kitchen-stuff-acquaintance look'd another Way , and seem'd not to know me . C. Bl.

How , Kitchen-stuff acquaintance !

C. Car. Yes , Mrs Day , that commanded the Party in the Hackney-Coach , was my Father's Kitchen-maid , and in Time of yore called Gillian . How now , Teg ? Enter Teg. What says the Learned ? Teg. Well then , upon my Soul , the Man in the great Cloak , with the long Sleeves , is mad , that he is . C. Car.

Mad , Teg !

Teg. Yes i'faith is he ; he bid me be gone , and said I was sent To mock him . C. Car.

Why , what didst thou say to him ?

Teg.

Well now , I did ask him if he wou'd take any Counsel .

C. Car. 'Slife , he might well enough think thou mock'st him . Why , thou shou'dst have ask'd him when we might have Come for Counsel . Teg. Well , that is all one , is it not ? If he wou'd take any Counsel , or you wou'd take any Counsel , is not that all one then ? C. Car.

Was there ever such a mistake ?

C Bl. Prethee ne'r be troubled at this ; we are past Counsel : If we had but a Friend amongst them , that cou'd but slide Us by this Covenant . Lieu. Hark ye , Colonel ; what if you did visit this translated Kitchen-maid ? Teg.

Well , how is that ? a Kitchen-maid ? where is she now ?

C. Bl.

The Lieutenant advises well .

C. Car. Nay , stay , stay ; in the first place I 'll send Teg to her To tell her I have a little business with her , and desire To know when I may have leave to wait on her . C. Bl.

We shall have Teg mistake again .

Teg. How is that so ? I will not mistake that Kitchen-maid ? Whither must I go now , to mistake that Kitchen-maid ? C Car. But d'hear , Teg ? you must take no notice of that , upon Thy Life ; but on the contrary , at every word you must say , Your Ladyship , and your Honour ; as for Example , when you have Made a Leg , you must begin thus ; My Master presents His service to your Ladyship , and having some business with Your Honour , desires to know when he may have leave To wait upon your Ladyship . Teg. Well , that I will do : But was she Your Father's Kitchen-maid ? C Car.

Why , what then ?

Teg. Upon my Soul I shall laugh upon her Face , for all I wou'd not have a mind to do it . C. Car. Not for a hundred pounds , Teg ; you must be sure to Set your Countenance , and look very soberly before you begin . Teg. If I shou'd think then of any Kettles , or Spits , or Any thing that will put a mind into my head of a Kitchen , I shou'd laugh then , shou'd I not ? C. Car.

Not for a thousand pounds , Teg ; thou mayst undo us all .

Teg. Well , I will hope I will not laugh then ? I will Keep my mouth if I can , that I will , from running To one side , and 'tother side : well now , where does This Mrs. Tay live ? Lieu. Come , Teg , I 'le walk along with thee , and shew thee The house , that thou mayest not mistake that however ; Exeunt Lieutenant and Teg. C. Car. Prethee do , Lieutenant , have a care , Teg , Thou shalt find us in the Temple . Now , Blunt , have I Another design . C. Bl.

What further design canst thou have ?

C. Car. Why by this means I may chance see these women Again , and get into their acquaintance . C. Bl.

With both , man ?

C. Car.

'Slife thou art jealous , do'st love either of 'em ?

C. Bl.

Nay , I can't tell , all is not as 't was .

C. Car. Like a man that is not well , and yet knows Not what ailes him . C. Bl. Thou art something near the matter : but I 'le Cure my self with considering , that no woman can Ever care for me . C. Car.

And why prethee ?

C. Bl.

Because I can say nothing to them .

C. Car. The less thou canst say , they 'l like thee the better ▪ She 'l think 't is Love that has ham-string'd thy tongue : Besides man , a woman can't abide that any thing In the house shou'd talk , but she and her Parrot ; What 't is the Cavalier girle thou lik'st ? C. Bl.

Canst thou love any of the other Breed .

C. Car. Not honestly , — yet I confess that ill-begotten Pretty Rascal never look'd towards me , but She scatter'd sparks as fast as kindling Charcoale ; Thine 's grown already to an honest flame : Come , Blunt , when Teg comes we will resolve on something . Exeunt . Enter Arbella and Ruth . Arb. Come now , a word of our own matters ; how do'st Thou hope to get thy Estate again . Ruth . You shall drink first ; I was just going to ask you , How you would get yours again ; you are as fast as if You were under Covert-barne . Arb.

But I have more hopes than thou hast .

Ruth . Not a scruple more ; if there were but scales That could weigh hopes ; for these Rascals must be hang'd Before either of us shall get our own ; you may eat and drink Out of yours as I do , and be a sojourner with Abel . Arb. I am hamper'd , but I 'le intangle my self With Mr. Abel's conjugal cords : nay — I am more Hamper'd than thou thinkest ; for if thou art in as bad Case as I ( you understand me ) hold up thy finger . Ruth holds up her finger . Ruth . Behold , nay , I 'le ne're forsake thee , if I were not Smitten , I wou'd perswade my self to be in love , If 't were but to bear thee company . Arb. Dear girl , hark ye , Ruth , the composition day Made an end of all ; all 's ago . Ruth . Nay , that fatal day put me into the condition Of a Compounder too ; there was my heart brought Under sequestration . Arb.

That day , wench ?

Ruth . Yes , that very day with two or three forceable Looks 't was driven an inch at least out of its old place ; Sense or reason can't find the way to 't now . Arb. That day , that very day , if you and I should like The same man ? Ruth . Fie upon 't , as I live thou mak'st me start ; Now dare not I ask which thou lik'st . Arb. Wou'd they were now to come in that we might Watch one anothers eyes , and discover by signs ; I am not able to ask thee neither . Ruth .

Nor I to tell thee ; shall we go ask Lilly which 't is ?

Arb. Out upon him ; nay , there 's no need of Stars ; We know our selves if we durst speak . Ruth .

Pish , I 'le speak if it be the same , we 'l draw cuts .

Arb. No , hark ye , Ruth , do you act them both , For you saw their several humors , and then watch my Eyes , where I appear most concern'd ; I can't dissemble for my heart . Ruth . I dare swear that will hinder thee to dissemble Indeed , — Come have at you then , I 'le speak as if I were Before the honourable rascals : And first , for my brave Blunt Colonel , who hating to take the Oath , cry'd out With a brave scorn ( such as made thee in love I hope ) Hang your selves , rascals , the time will come when those That dare be honest will be rewarded ; don't I act him bravely , don't I act him bravely ? Arb.

O admirably well , dear wench , do it once more .

Ruth .

Nay , nay , I must do the 'tother now .

Arb. No , no , this once more , dear girle , and I 'le Act the 'tother for thee . Ruth . No forsooth , I 'le spare your pains , we are right , No need of Cuts , send thee good luck with him I acted , And wish me well with my merry Colonel That shall act his own part . Arb. And a thousand good lucks attend thee ; We have sav'd our blushes admirably well , and reliev'd Our hearts from hard duty — but mum , see where the Mother Comes , and with her , her Son , a true exemplification or Duplicate of the original Day . Now for a charge . Enter Mrs. Day and Abel . Ruth .

Stand fair , the Enemy draws up .

Mrs. Day . Well , Mrs. Arbella , I hope you have consider'd Enough by this time ; you need not use so much consideration For your own good ; you may have your Estate , and you May have Abel , and you may be worse offer'd . Abel , tell her your mind , ne're stand , shall I , shall I — Ruth , does she incline , or is she wilful ? Ruth . I was just about the point when your Honor Interrupted us . — One word in your Ladiships ear . Abel . You see forsooth that I am some body , though you Make no body of me , you see I can prevail ; therefore Pray say what I shall trust to ; For I must not stand , shall I , shall I. Arb.

You are hasty , Sir .

Abel . I am call'd upon by Important affairs ; And therefore I must be bold in a fair way to tell you that It lies upon my spirit exceedingly . Arb. Saffron-posset-drink is very good against The heaviness of the Spirit . Abel .

Nay , forsooth , you do not understand my meaning

Arb. You do , I hope , Sir ; and 't is no matter , Sir , if one of us know it . Enter Teg. Teg.

Well , know ? who are all you ?

Arb.

What 's here , an Irish Elder come to examine us all .

Teg.

Well know , what is your names , ever one ?

Ruth . Arbella , this is a Servant to one of the Colonels ; upon My life , 't is the Irishman that took the Covenant The right way . Arb.

Peace , what shou'd it mean ?

Teg.

Well , cannot some of you all say nothing ?

Mrs. Day . Why how now sauce-box ? what wou'd you have ? What have you left your manners without ? go Our and fetch 'em in . Teg.

What shou'd I fetch now ?

Mrs.

Day D' you know who you speak to , Sirrah ?

Teg. Well , what are you then ? upon my soul In my own Countrey they can tell who I am . Abel .

You must not be so saucy unto her Honour .

Teg.

Well , I will knock you , if you be saucy with me then .

Ruth .

This is miraculous .

Teg.

Is there none of you that I must speak to now ?

Arb.

Now , wench , if he shou'd be sent to us .

Aside . Teg.

Well I wou'd have one Mrs. Tay speak unto me .

Mrs.

Day . Well , Sirrah , I am she : what 's your business ?

Teg. O so then , are you Mrs. Tay ? Well , I will look well first , And I will set my face in some worship ; yes indeed that I will ; And I will tell her then what I will speak to her . Ruth .

How the fellow begins to mould himself .

Arb. And tempers his Chops like a hound that has lap'd Before his meat was cold enough . Ruth . He looks as if he had some gifts to pour forth ; Those are Mr. Day 's own white eyes before he begins To say grace : now for a speech ratling in his kecher , As if his words stumbled in their way . Teg. Well , now I will tell thee , I'faith my Master The good Colonel Careless , bid me ask thy good Ladiship — Upon my soul now the laugh will come upon me . He laughs alwayes when he says Ladiship or Honor. Mrs. Day .

Sirrah , sirrah , what were you sent to abuse me ?

Ruth .

As sure as can be .

Aside . Teg. I'saith now I do not abuse thy good Hon. I cannot Help my laugh now , I will try agen now ; I will not Think of a Kitchin then : my master wou'd know Of your Ladiship — Mrs. Day . Did your Master send you to abuse me , you Rascal : By my honor , Sirrah ? Teg.

Why do'st thou mock thy self now joy ?

Mrs. Day . How , Sirrah , do I mock my self ? This is some Irish Traytor . Teg. I am no Traytor , that I am not ; I am an Irish Rebel ; you are couzen'd now . Mrs. Day . Sirrah , Sirrah , I will make you know who I am , an impudent Irish Rascal . Abel . He seemeth a dangerous Fellow , and of a bold and Seditious Spirit . Mrs. Day .

You are a bloody Rascal , I warrant ye .

Teg.

You are a foolish brabble bribble Woman , that you are .

Abel . Sirrah , we that are at the head of affairs Must punish your Sauciness . Teg. You shall take a knock upon your Pate , if you are Saucy with me , that I shall ; you Son of a Roundhead , you . Mrs. Day .

Ye Rascally Varlet , get you out of my Doors .

Teg.

Will not I give you my Message then ?

Mrs. Day .

Get you out , Rascal ?

Teg.

I prethee let me tell thee my Message ?

Mrs. Day .

Get you out , I say .

Teg. Well then I care not neither ; the Devil take Your Ladyship , and Honourship , and Kitchenship too : there now . Exit . Arb. Was there ever such a Scene ? 't is impossible To guess any thing . Ruth . Our Colonels have don 't , as sure as thou livest , to Make themselves sport ; being all the revenge that is in Their power : look , look , how her Honour trots about , Like a Beast stung with Flies . Mrs. Day . How the Villain has distemper'd me ! Out upon 't too , that I have let the Rascal go unpublish'd , And you can stand by like a Sheep : run after him then , and Stop him ; I 'll have him laid by the heels , and Make him confess who sent him to abuse me : Call help as you go , make haste I say . Exit Abel . Ruth . 'Slid Arbella , run after him , and save the poor Fellow for Sakes sake ; Stop Abel by any means , That he may scape . Arb.

Keep his Dam off , and let me alone with the Puppy .

Exit . Ruth

Fear not .

Mrs. Day . 'Uds my Life , the Rascal has heated me . — Now I Think on 't , I 'll go my self , and see it done : a saucy Villain . Ruth . But I must needs acquaint your Honour with one thing First concerning Mrs. Arbella . Mrs. Day .

As soon as ever I have done . Is 't good news , Wench ?

Ruth . Most Excellent ; if you go out you may spoil all ; Such a discovery I have made , that you will bless The accident that anger'd you . Mrs. Day .

Quickly then , Girl .

Ruth . When you sent Abel after the Irish-man , Mrs. Arbella's Colour came and went in her Face , and at last Not able to stay , slunk away after him for fear the Irish-man Shou'd hurt him : she stole away and blush'd the prettiest . Mrs. Day .

I protest he may be hurt indeed ; I 'll run my self too .

Ruth . By no means , forsooth ; nor is there any need on 't ; For the resolv'd to stop him before he cou'd Get near the Irish-man ; she has done it upon my Life ; And if you shou'd go out you might spoil the kindest Encounter that the loving Abel is ever like to have . Mrs. Day .

Art sure of this ?

Ruth . If you do not find she has stopt him , Let me ever have your hatred ; pray credit me . Mrs. Day . I do , I do believe thee ; come , we 'll go in where I use to read : there thou shalt tell me all the particulars , And the manner of it : I warrant 't was pretty to observe . Ruth . O , 't was a thousand pities you did not see 't , When Abel walk't away so bravely , and foolishly after this Wild Irish-man : She stole such kind looks from her Own Eyes ; and having rob'd her self , sent them after Her own Abel ; and then — Mrs. Day Come , good Wench , I 'll go in , and hear it all at Large ; it shall be the best tale thou hast told these two days . Come , come , I long to hear all . Abel for his part needs No News by this time , come , good Wench . Exit . Ruth .

So far I am right ; Fortune take care for future things .

Enter C. Blunt as taken by Bayliffs . C. Bl.

At whose Suit , Rascals ?

1 B ▪

You shall know that time enough .

C. Bl.

Time enough , Dogs ; must I wait your leisures ?

1 B. O you are a dangerous Man ; 't is such Traytors as you That disturb the Peace of the Nation . C. Bl. Take that , Rascal : if I had any thing at liberty Besides my Foot , I wou'd bestow it on you . 1 B. You shall pay dearly for this kick before you are Let loose , and give good special Bail : Mark that , my Surly Companion ; we have you fast . C. Bl. 'T is well , Rogues , you caught me conveniently ; Had I been aware I wou'd have made some of your scurvy Souls my special Bail . 1 B. O , 't is a bloody-minded Man ; I 'll warrant ye this Vile Cavalier has eat many a Child . C. Bl.

I cou'd gnaw a piece or two of you , Rascals .

Enter C. Careless . C. Car. How is this ! Blunt in hold ! you Catchpole , Let go your prey , or — Draws , and Blunt in the scuffle throws up one of their heels , and gets a Sword , and helps drive them off . 1 B ▪

Murder , Murder .

C. Bl.

Faith , Careless , this was worth thanks , I was fairly going .

C. Car.

What was the matter , Man ?

C. Bl. Why , an Action or two for Free Quarter , now made Trover and Conversion : Nay , I believe we shall be sued With an Action of Trespass ; for every Field we have Marched over , and be indited for Riots , for going at Unseasonable hours , above two in a Company . Enter Teg running . C. Car.

Well come , let 's away .

Teg. Now upon my Soul run as I do ; the Men in red Coats are running too , that they are , and they cry , Murder , Murder , I never heard such a noise in Ireland , that 's true too . C. Car. 'Slife we must shift several ways . Farewel , if we scape we meet at night ; I shall Take heed now . Teg.

Shall I tell of Mrs. Tay now ?

C. Car.

O good Teg , no time for Messages .

Exeunt several ways . Enter Bayliffs and Souidiers . A noise within . 1 B. This way , this way ; Oh Villains , my Neighbour Swash is hurt dangerously ; Some good Souldiers , follow , follow . Enter Careless and Teg again . C. Car. I am quite out of breath , and the Blood Hounds Are in a full cry upon a burning scent : Plague on 'em , What a noise the Kennels make ? what Door 's this That graciously stands a little open ? what an Ass am I to ask ? Teg , Scout abroad ; if any thing happens extraordinary , Observe this Door ; there you shall find me : be careful , Now by your favour , Landlord , as unknown . Exeunt severally . Enter Mrs. Day and Obadiah . Mrs. Day . It was well observed , Obadiah , to bring the Parties to me first , 't is your Master's will that I shou'd , as I May say , prepare matters for him ; in truth , in truth I have too great a burthen upon me : yet for the publick Good I am content to undergo it . Obad. I shall with sincere care present unto your Honour From time to time such negotiations as I may discreetly Presume may be material for your Honours inspection . Mrs. Day . It will become you so to do , you have the Present that came last . Obad. Yes , and please your Honour ; the Gentleman Concerning her Brothers release , hath also Sent in a piece of Plate . Mrs. Day .

It 's very well .

Obad. But the Man without , about a bargain of the Kings Land , is come empty . Mrs. Day . Bid him be gone , I 'll not speak with him ; He does not understand himself . Obad.

I shall intimate so much to him .

As Obadiah goes out , C. Careless meets him and tumbles him back . Mrs. Day . Why how now ? what rude Companion 's this ? What wou'd you have ( what 's your business ? what 's the Matter ? who sent you ? who d' you belong to ? who ! — C Car. Hold , hold , if you mean to be answer'd to all These Interrogatories , you see I resolve to be your Companion ; I am a Man , there 's no great matter , no body sent me ; nor I Belong to no body : I think I have answer'd to the chief Heads . Mrs. Day . Thou hast committed murder for ought I know ? How is 't , Obadiah ? C. Car. Ha , what luck have I to fall into the Territories Of my old Kitchen acquaintance ; I 'll proceed upon the Strength of Teg's Message , though I had no answer . Mrs. Day .

How is 't , Man ?

Obad. Truly he came forceably upon me , and I fear Has bruised some intellectuals within my Stomach . Ex. Oba . Mrs. Day . Go in and take some Irish Slat by way of Prevention , and keep your self warm . Now , Sir , have you Any business , you that came in so rudely as if you did not Know who you came to . How came you in , Sir Royster ? Was not the Porter at the Gate ? C. Car. No truly , the Gate kept it self , and stood gaping As if it had a mind to speak , and say , I pray come in . Mrs. Day .

Did it so , Sir ? and what have you to say ?

C. Car. I , there 's the point ; either she does not , or will Not know me : What shou'd I say ? how dull am I ? Pox on 't , This wit is like a common Friend , when one has need on him , He won't come near one . Mrs. Day . Sir , are you studying for an invention ? for ought I know you have done some mischief , And 't were sit to secure you ? C. Care . So that 's well , 't was pretty to fall into the head Quarter of the Enemy . Mrs. Day . Nay , 't is e'n so , I 'll fetch Those that shall examine you . C. Car. Stay , thou mighty States-woman , I did but Give you time to see if your memory would but be so Honest , as to tell you who I am . Mrs. Day .

What d' you mean , Sauce-box ?

C. Car. There 's a word yet of thy former imployments , That Sauce : you and I have been acquainted . Mrs. Day .

I do not use to have acquaintance with Cavaliers .

C. Car. Nor I with Committee-mens Utensils ; but in Diebus illis , you were not Honourable , nor I a Malignant . Lord , Lord , you are horrible forgetful , Pride comes with Godliness , and good Cloaths ; what , you think I shou'd Not know you , because you are disguised with curl'd Hair , And white Gloves . Alas , I know you as well as if you were In your Sabbath-days Cinamon Waistcoat , with a silver Edging round the Skirt . Mrs. Day .

How , Sirrah ?

C. Car. And with your fair hands bath'd in Lather , or With your fragrant Breath , driving the fleeting Ambergreece off from the waving Kitchenstuff . Mrs. Day . O , you are an impudent Cavalier ! I remember You now indeed ; but I 'll — C. Car. Nay , but hark you the now Honourable , Non obstante past conditions ; did not I send my Fool Man , An Irish-man , with a civil Message to you ; Why all this strangeness then . Mrs. Day . How , how , how 's this ; was 't you that sent That Rascal to abuse me , was 't so . C. Car.

How now ! what , matters grow worse and worse ?

Mrs. Day . I 'll teach you to abuse those that are in Authority : Within there , who 's within ? C. Car.

'Slife , I 'll stop your mouth , if you raise an Alarm .

Cryes out , and he stops her mouth ▪ Mrs. Day .

Stop my mouth , Sirrah , whoo , whoo , ho.

C. Car. Yes , stop your mouth , what are you good at a Who , bub , ha . Enter Ruth . Ruth .

What 's the matter , Forsooth .

Mrs. Day . The matter ? why here s a rude Cavalier has Broke into my House ; 't was he too that sent the Irish Rascal To abuse me too within my own Walls : Call your Father , that He may grant his Order to secure him . 'T is a dangerous Fellow . C. Car. Nay , good pretty Gentlewoman , spare your motion , What must become of me ? Teg has made some strange mistake . Ruth . 'T is he , what shall I do , ( now invention be equal to My Love ) why , your Ladiship will spoil all ? I sent for aside . This Gentleman , and enjoyn'd him secrecy , even to you your self , Till I had made his way . O fie upon 't , I am to blame ; but in Truth I did not think he would have come these two hours . C Car. I dare swear she did not ; I might very probably Not have come at all . Ruth . How came you to come so soon , Sir ; 't was three Hours before you appointed . C. Car. Hey day , I shall be made believe I came hither On purpose presently . Ruth . 'T was upon a message of his to me , and please your Honour to make his desires known to your Ladiship , that he Had consider'd on 't and was resolved to take the Covenant , And give you five hundred pound to make his peace , and bring His business about again , that he may be Admitted in his first condition . C. Car.

What 's this ? d'hear , pretty Gentlewoman .

Ruth .

Well , well , I know your mind , I have done your business .

Mrs. Day .

Oh , his stomach 's come down !

Ruth . Sweeten him again , and leave him to me ; I warrant you the five hundred pound and — Whispers . C. Car. Now I have found it : this pretty wench has A mind to be left alone with me , at her peril . Mrs. Day . I understand thee ; well , Sir , I can pass by rudeness When I am informed there was no intention of it ; I leave You and my Daughter to beget a right understanding . C. Car. We should beget Sons and Daughters sooner : What does all this mean ? Ruth . I am sorry , Sir , that your love for me Shou'd make you thus rash . C. Car. That 's more than you know , but you had a mind To be lest alone with me ; that 's certain . Ruth . 'T is too plain , Sir , you 'd ne'er have run your self Into this danger else . C. Car.

Nay , now you 'r out ; the danger run after me .

Ruth .

You may dissemble .

C. Car. Why , 't is the proper business here ; but we lose Time ; you and I are left to beget right understanding , Come , which way ? Ruth .

Whither ?

C. Car.

To your Chamber or Closet .

Ruth .

But I am ingag'd you shall take the Covenant .

C. Car.

No , I never swear when I am bid .

Ruth .

But you wou'd do as bad ?

C. Car.

That 's not against my principles .

Ruth . Thank you for your fair opinion , good Signior Principle , there lies your way , Sir , however I will own so much Kindness for you , that I repent not the civility I have done , To free you from the trouble you were like to fall into ; Make me a leg , if you please , and cry , Thank you : and so the Gentlewoman that desired to be left alone with you , desires To be left alone with her self , she being taught a right Understanding of you . C. Car. No , I am revited ; nor shall you march off thus With flying colours : my pretty Commander in chief , let us Parley a little farther , and but lay down ingenuously the true State of our Treaty . The business in short is this , We differ Seemingly upon two evils , and mine the least ; and therefore To be chosen , you had better take me , than I take the Covenant . Ruth .

We 'll excuse one another .

C. Car.

You wou'd not have me take the Covenant then .

Ruth . No , I did but try you , I forgive your idle looseness ; For that firm vertue be constant to your fair principles In spite of fortune . C. Car. What 's this got into petti-coats — but d'hear , I 'le not excuse you from my proposition , notwithstanding My release : Come we are half way to a right Understanding — nay , I do love thee . Ruth . Love vertue , you have but here and there a patch Of it ; y' are ragged still . C. Car.

Are you not the Committee Day 's Daughter ?

Ruth .

Yes , what then .

C. Car. Then am I thankful , I had no defence against thee And Matrimony , but thy own Father and Mother , Which are a perfect Committee to my nature . Ruth . Why are you sure I wou'd have match'd with a Malignant , not a Compounder neither . C. Car. Nay , I have made thee a Joynture against my will ; Methinks it were but as reasonable , that I shou'd do something For my Joynture , but by the way of Matrimony honestly To encrease your Generation ; this , to tell you truth , is Against my Conscience . Ruth .

Yet you wou'd beget right understandings .

C. Car.

Yes , I wou'd have 'um all Bastards .

Ruth .

And me a Whore .

C. Car. That 's a coarse name ; but 't is not sit a Committee - Man 's Daughter should be too honest , to the reproach Of her Father and Mother . Ruth . When the quarrel of the Nation is reconcil'd , you And I shall agree : till when , Sir — Enter Teg. Teg. Are you here then ? upon my shoul the good Colonel Blunt is over-taken again now , and carried to the Devil , That he is , I'saith now . C. Car.

How , taken and carried to the Devil !

Teg. He desired to go to the Devil , that he did , I wonder of My shoul he was not afraid of that . C. Car.

I understand it now ; what mischief 's this ?

Ruth .

You seem troubled , Sir .

C. Car.

I have but a life to lose , that I am weary of : come , Teg.

Ruth . Hold , you shan't go before I know the business ; What d' ye talk of ? C. Car. My friend , my dearest friend is caught up by rascally Bayliffs , and carried to the Devil-Tavern ; pray let me go . Ruth .

Stay but a minute , if you have any kindness for me .

C. Car.

Yes , I do love you .

Ruth . Perhaps I may serve your friend . Enter Arbella . O Arbella , I was going to seek you . Arb.

What 's the matter ?

Ruth The Colonel which thou lik'st is taken by Bayliffs ; There 's his Friend too almost distracted : You know The mercy of these times Arb.

What do'st thou tell me , I am ready to sink down !

Ruth . Compose your self , and help him nobly ; you have no Way but to smile upon Abel , and get him to bail him . Enter Abel and Obadiah . Arb. Look where he and Obadiah comes ; shou'd either By providence — O Mr. Abel , where have you been this long Time ? can you find of your heart to keep thus out of my sight ▪ Abel . Assuredly , some important affairs constrain'd my Absence , as Obadiah can testifie , Bona fide . Obad.

I can do so verily , my self being a material party .

C. Car.

Pox on 'em , how slow they speak .

Arb. Well , well , you shall go no more out of my sight ; I 'll Not be satisfied with your Bona fides : I have some occasions That call me to go a little way ; you shall e'en go with me , And good Obadiah too : you shall not deny me any thing . Abel . Is it not meet I shou'd , I am exceedingly exalted ; Obadiah thou shalt have the best bargain of all my Tenants . Obad.

I am thankful .

C. Car.

What may this mean ?

Aside . Arb. Ruth , how shall we do to keep thy swift Mother From pursuing us ? Ruth . Let me alone , as I go by the Parlor where she sits , Big with expectation ; I 'le give her a whisper that we Are going to fetch the very five hundred pound . Arb.

How can that be ?

Ruth .

No question now . Will you march , Sir ?

C. Car.

Whither ?

Ruth . Lord , how dull these men in Love are ! why to your Friend . No more words . C. Car.

I will stare upon thee though .

Exeunt .

ACT IV. SCENE I. Colonel Blunt brought in by Bayliffs . 1 B.

I , I , we thought how well you 'd get Bail .

C. Bl. Why , you unconscionable Rascal , are you Angry that I am unlucky , or do you want some Fees ? I 'll perish in a dungeon before I 'll consume with throwing Sops to such Curs . 1 Ba.

Chuse , chuse , come along with him .

C. Bl. I 'll not go your pace neither , Rascals ; I 'll go softly , If it be but to hinder you from taking up some other Honest Gentleman . 1 B. Very well , surly Sir , we will carry you where you Shall not be troubled what pace to walk ; you 'l find a Large Bell , blood is dear ; not yours is it ? a farthing a pint Were very dear for the best urine you have . Enter Arbella , Ruth , Abel , C. Careless , and Obadiah . 1 B.

How now , are these any of your Friends ?

C. Bl.

Never if you see Women , that 's a Rule .

Arb. Nay , you need have no scruple , 't is a near Kinsman Of mine , you do not think I hope that I wou'd let you suffer — You — that must be nearer than a Kinsman to me . Ab.

But my Mother doth not know it .

Arb. If that be all , leave it to me and Ruth , we 'll save You harmless : besides I cannot marry , if my Kinsman be in Prison ; he must convey my Estate as you appoint ; for 't is All in him , we must please him . Abel . The consideration of that doth convince me . Obadiah , 't is necessary for us to set at liberty this Gentleman , Being a Trustee for Mrs. Arbella's Estate ; tell 'em therefore That you and I will Bail this Gentleman — and — D'hear , tell them who I am . Obad. I shall . Gentlemen , this is the honourable Mr. Abel Day , the first-born of the Honourable Mr. Day , Chair-man of the Committee of Sequestrations , and I My self by name Obadiah , and Clerk to the said Honourable Committee . 1 B.

Well , Sir , we know Mr. Day , and Mr. Abel .

Abel . Yes , that 's I , and I will bail this Gentleman ; I believe You dare not except against the Bail : nay , you shall have Obadiah's too , one that the State trusts . 1 B. With all our hearts , Sir — But there are Charges to be paid . Arb. Here , Obadiah , take this Purse and discharge them , And give the Bayliffs twenty shillings to drink . C. Bl.

This is miraculous .

1 B.

A brave Lady : I'faith Mrs. we 'll drink your health .

Abel . She 's to be my Wife , as sure as you are here ; What say you to that now ? 1 B. That 's impossible ; here 's something more in this : Honourable Mr. Abel , the Sheriffs Deputy is hard by in Another room , if you please to go thither , And give your Bail , Sir . Abel .

Well , shew us the way , and let him know who I am .

C. Car. Hark ye , pretty Mrs. Ruth , if you were not Exeunt Abel , Obadiah , and Bayliffs . A Committee-man's Daughter , and so consequently Against Monarchy , two Princes shou'd Have you and that Gentlewoman . Ruth .

No , no , you 'll serve my turn ; I am not ambitious .

C. Car. Do but swear then that thou art not the Issue of Mr. Day , and though I know 't is a lye , I 'll be content To be cousen'd , and believe . Ruth . Fie , sie , you can't abide taking of Oaths ; look , Look how your Friend and mine take aim at one another : Is he smitten ? C. Car. Cupid has not such another wounded Subject , Nay , and is vex'd he is in love too ; Troth 't is partly my own case . Ruth .

Peace , she begins as need requires .

Arb.

You are free , Sir .

C. Bl.

Not so free as you think .

Arb.

What hinders it ?

C. Bl.

Nothing , but I 'll tell you .

Arb.

Why , Sir ?

C. Bl.

You 'll laugh at me .

Arb. Have you perceived me apt to commit such a rudeness , Pray let me know it ? C. Bl.

Upon two conditions you shall know it .

Arb.

Well , make your own Laws .

C. Bl. First I thank you , y' have freed me nobly ; pray Believe it , you have this acknowledgment from an Honest heart , one that would crack a string for you , That 's one thing . Arb.

Well , the other .

C. Bl. The other is only , that I may stand so ready , That I may be gone just as I have told it you ; together With your promise , not to call me back : and upon these Terms I give you leave to laugh when I am gone . Careless , Come stand ready , that at the sign given We may vanish together . Ruth . If you please , Sir , when you are ready to start , I 'll cry one , two , three , and away . C. Bl. Be pleased to forbear , good smart Gentlewoman , You have leave to jeer when I am gone , and am just going ; By your spleens leave a little patience . Arb.

Prethee , peace .

Ruth .

I shall contain , Sir .

C. Bl.

That 's much for a Woman to do .

Arb.

Now , Sir , perform your promise .

C. Bl.

Careless , have you done with your Woman ?

C. Car.

Madam —

C. Bl. Nay , I have thank'd her already ; prethee no more Of that dull way of gratitude ; stand ready , Man , yet nearer The Door : so now my misfortune that I promised to Discover , is , that I love you above my sense or reason : So farewel , and laugh ; Come , Careless . C. Car. Ladies , our lives are yours ; be but so kind as to Believe it , till you have something to command . Exeunt ▪ Ruth .

Was there ever such humour ?

Arb.

As I live his confession shews nobly .

Ruth . It shews madly I am sure , an ill-bred Fellow , not Indure a Woman to laugh at him ! Arb.

He 's honest , I dare swear .

Ruth .

That 's more than I dare swear for my Colonel .

Arb.

Out upon him .

Ruth . Nay , 't is but for want of a good Example ; I 'll make him so . Arb. But d'hear , Ruth , we were horribly to blame , that we Did not enquire where they lodg'd , under pretence of sending To them about their own business . Ruth . Why , thy whimsical Colonel discharg'd himself off Like a Gun : there was no time between the flashing in The pan , and the going off , to ask a question : but hark ye , I have an invention upon the old account of the Five hundred pound , which shall make Abel send His Pursuivant , Obadiah , to look 'em . Arb. Excellent ! the Trout Abel will bite immediately at That bait : the Message shall be as from his Master Day , Senior , To come and speak with him ; they 'll think Presently 't is about their Composition , and come certainly . In the mean time we 'll prepare them with Counter-expectations Enter Abel and Obadiah . Ruth . You have it , peace , see where Abel and the gentle Squire of low degree , Obadiah , approaches , having newly Entred themselves into Bonds . Arb. Which I 'll be sure to tell his Mother , if he be Evermore troublesome . Ruth . And that he 's turn'd an arrant Cavalier , By bailing one of the Brood . Abel . I have according to your desires given freedom to Your Kinsman and Trustee ; I suppose he doth perceive That you may have power in right of me . Arb. Good Mr. Abel , I am sincerely beholding to you , And your Authority . Ruth . O sie upon 't , Brother , I did forget to acquaint You with a business before the Gentlemen went . O me , what a Sieve-like memory have I , 'T was an important affair too . Abel . If you discover it to me , I shall render you My opinion upon the whole . Ruth . The two Gentlemen have repented of their obstinacy , And wou'd now present five hundred pound to your good Honourable Mother , to stand their Friend , that they may be Permitted to take the Covenant , and we , negligent we , Have let them go , before we knew where to send to them . Abel . That was the want of being us'd to important affairs ; It is ill to neglect the accepting of their conversion , Together with their money . Ruth . Well , there is but one way ; do you send Obadiah In your Father's Name , to desire them both to come to his House About some business that will be for their good , but no more ; For then they 'll take it ill ; for they enjoin'd us secrecy ; And when they come , let us alone : Obadiah may enquire Them out at some Tavern . Obad. The Bayliffs did say they were gone To the Devil ▪ Tavern to pay a reckoning . Abel . Hasten thither , good Obadiah , as if you had met My Honourable Father , and desire them to come unto His House , about an important affair that is for their good . Obad.

I shall use expedition .

Exit ▪ Abel . And we will hasten home , lest the Gentlemen shou'd Be before us , and not know how to address their offers ; And then we will hasten our being united in the Bonds of Matrimony ▪ Arb.

Soft and fair goes far .

Exeunt ▪ Enter the two Colonels , and Teg as at the Tavern . C. Car. Did ever Man get away so craftily from the thing He lik't ; terrible business , afraid to tell a Woman what she Desir'd to hear ; I pray heartily that the Boys do not come To the knowledge of thy famous retreat ; we shall be followed By those small Birds , as you have seen an Owl pursued . C. Bl.

I shall break some of their Wings then .

C. Car. To leave a handsome Woman , a Woman that came To be bound Body for Body for thee ; one that does that Which no Woman will hardly do again . C. Bl.

What 's that ?

C. Car. Love thee , and thy Blunt Humour ; a meer chance , Man , a thing besides all the venerate Stars . C. Bl. You practice your Wit to no purpose ; I am not To be perswaded to lie still , like a Jack-a-lent to be cast at ; I had rather be a Wisp hung up for a Woman to scold at , Than a fix'd Lover for 'em to point at : Your Squib began to hiss . Enter Obadiah . C. Car. Peace , Man , here 's Jupiter's Mercury , is his Message to us , trow ? Obad. Gentlemen , you are opportunely over-taken And found out . C. Bl.

How 's this ?

Obad. I come unto you in the name of the Honourable Mr. Day , who desires to speak with you both about some Important affair , which is conducing for your good . C. Bl.

What train is this ?

C. Car.

Peace , let us not be rash , Teg.

Teg.

Well then .

C. Car. Were it not possible that you cou'd entertain this Fellow in the next room till he were pretty drunk ? Teg. I warrant you that now , I will make him and my self Too drunk for thy sweet sake . C. Car. Be sure , Teg — some business , Sir , that will take us Up a very little time to finish , make us desire your patience Till we dispatch it : In the mean time , Sir , do us the Favour as to call for a glass of Sack : in the next room Teg shall wait upon you , and drink your Master's health . Obad.

It needeth not , nor do I use to drink healths .

C. Car. None but your Masters , Sir , and that by Way of remembrance . Obad. We that have the affairs of State under our Tuition cannot long delay ; my presence may be required For the carrying on the work . C Car. Nay , Sir , it shall not exceed above a quarter Of an hour ; perhaps we 'll wait upon you to Mr. Day presently ▪ Pray , Sir , drink but one glass or two ; we wou'd wait upon you Our selves , but that wou'd hinder us from going with you . Obad.

Upon that consideration I shall attend a little .

C. Car.

Go wait upon him , now Teg or never .

Teg.

I will make him so drunk as can be upon my Soul .

C. Bl.

What a Devil shou'd this Message mean ?

Exeunt . C. Car. 'T is too plain ; this cream of Committee Rascals ! who has Better Intelligence than a State-Secretary , has heard Of his Son Abel's being hamper'd , in the cause of the Wicked , and in revenge wou'd intice us to Perdition . C. Bl. If Teg cou'd be so fortunate as to make him drunk , We might know all . C. Car. If the close-hearted Rogue will not be open mouth'd , We 'll leave him pawn'd for all our scores , and stuff his Pockets With blank Commissions . C Bl.

Only fill up one with his Master's name .

C. Car. And another with his Wife's name for Adjutant General , Together with a Bill of Ammunition hid under Day 's House , And make it be digg'd down , with scandal of Delinquency . A Rascal to think to invite us into Newgate ! C. Bl.

Well , we must resolve what to do .

C. Car. I have a fancy come into my head that may produce An admirable Scene . C. Bl.

Come , let 's hear .

C. Car. 'T is upon supposition , that Teg makes him drunk , And by the way 't is a good Omen that we have no sober Apparition in that wavering posture of frailty ; we 'll send him Home in a Sedan , and cause him to be deliver'd in that Good natur'd condition , to the ill natur'd Rascal His Master . C. Bl. It will be Excellent : how I pray for Teg To be Victorious ! Enter Musician . Mus.

Gentlemen , will you have any Musick ?

C. Bl.

Prethee no , we are out of tune .

C. Car. Pish , we never will be out of humour . Do'st hear , Canst sing us a Malignant Sonnet ? Mus.

I can sing many Songs . You seem honest Gentlemen .

C. Car. Cavaliers thou mean'st . Sing without any apprehension . SONG . NOW the Vail is pull'd off , and this pitiful Nation Too late see the gull of a Kirk-Reformation , How all things that shou'd be Are turn'd topsie turvy ; The Freedom we have , Our Prince made a Slave , And the Masters must now turn the Waiters . The great ones obey , While the Rascals do sway , And the Loyal to Rebels are Traytors . The Pulpits are crowded with tongues of their own , And the Preachers spiritual Committee-men grown , To denounce Sequestration On Souls of old Fashion , They Rail and they Pray , Till they quite preach away The Wealth that was once the wise Cities . The Courts in the Hall Where the Lawyers did bawl , Are turn'd into pious Committees . C. Car. This Song has rais'd my Spirits : Here , sing always For the King ; I wou'd have every Man in his way do something For him ; I wou'd have Fidlers sing for him , Parsons pray For him , Men fight for him , Women scold for him , and Children cry for him , and according to this rule , Teg is drinking for him : but see , Enter Teg and Obadiah drunk . See and rejoice where Teg with Laurel comes . C. Bl. And the vanquish'd Obadiah with nothing fix'd About him but his Eyes . C. Car. Stay , sing another Song in the behalf of Compounders if thou canst , that the vapours of the Wine May have full power to ascend up to the firmament of His truly reformed Coxcomb . SONG . COme , Drawer , some Wine , Let it sparkle and shine , And make its own drops fall abounding ; Like the Hearts it makes light , Let it flow pure and right , And a Plague take all kind of Compounding . We 'll not be too wise , Nor try to advise , How to suffer and gravely despair : For Wisdom and Parts Sit brooding on hearts , And there they catch nothing but care . Not a thought shall come in But what brings our King , Let Committees be damn'd with their gain ; We 'll send by this stealth To our Hearts our Kings Health , And there in despite he shall Reign . Obadiah repeating with him . C. Car. This is sport beyond modest hopes . How I will Adore Sack that can force this Fellow to Religion . The Rogue Is full of Worship . Teg. Well now , upon my Soul , Mr. Obed. Commit sings as well as the Man now : Come then will you sing an Irish Song after me ? Obad.

I will sing Irish for the King now .

Teg.

I will sing for the King as well as you . Hark you now .

Obad. That is too hard stuff ; I cannot do these and these Material matters . He sings an Irish Song , and Obadiah tries . Teg. Here now , we will take some snuff for the King — so There lay it upon your hand ; put one of your Noses to it now , So snuff now . Upon my Soul , Mr. Obed Commit will make A brave Irish-man . Obad. I will snuff for the King no more . Good Mr. Teg , Give me some more Sack , and sing English for my money . Teg. I will tell you that Irish is as good and better too . Come now we will dance : Can you play an Irish Tune ? Can you play this now . Mus.

No , Sir , but I can play you an excellent Irish Jig .

They dance . C. Car. This is beyond thought : So this motion Like a tumbled Barrel has set the Liquor a working again . Now for a Chair . Enter Drawer . C. Bl.

Drawer , who waits there ?

Drawer .

What d' you want Gentlemen ?

C. Bl. Call a Chair presently , and bring their Chair into This room ; here 's a friend of ours overtaken . Drawer .

I go , Sir .

Exit . C. Car. Teg , thou hast done miracles , thou art a good Omen , And hast vanquish'd the cause in this overthrow of this Counterfeit Rascal its true Epitome : And now , Teg , According to the words of Condemnation , we 'l send him To the place from whence he came . Teg Upon my shoul he 's dead now , shall I howl as we do In Ireland . C. Car.

How 's that , Teg.

Teg.

Yo , yo .

Howls . C. Car. No more , good , Teg , lest you give an Alarm to the Enemy . Welcome , honest fellow ; by your looks you seem so . Enter Sedan . 1 C.

How Colonel , have you forgot your poor Souldier Ned.

C. Car. Why , this is a miraculous pursuit of good fortune , Honest Ned ; what turn'd Chair-man ? 1. Any thing for Bread and Beer , noble Colonel , shall I Have the Honour to carry you . C. Car. No , Ned , is thy fellow honest ? 1. Or I 'de be hang'd before I carry a Chair an inch with him . C. Car. 'T is well — look you , Ned , that fellow is Mr. Day The Committee-man's Clerk , whom with wonderful industry We have made drunk : Just as he is , pack him up in thy Chair , And immediately transport him to his Master Day 's house ; And in the very Hall turn him out . There 's half a Crown For thy pains . 1. If I fail , say Ned's a Coward : Come shall we put your short Wing'd worship into your mew . Come along . They put him in and Ex. C. Car. Farewel , Ned : Teg , come , you must carry some Money to one or two confident friends of mine ; We 'l pay our Reckoning at the Bar , then go home and laugh ; And if you will plot some way to see our inchanting Females Once more ; they make me so long — Exeunt . Enter Mr. Day , and Mrs. Day . Mrs. Day Dispatch quickly I say , and say I said it ; many Things fall between the lip and the cup. Mr. Day . Nay , duck , let thee alone for counsel . Ah , If thou hadst been a man . Mrs. Day . Why then you wou'd have wanted a Woman , And a helper too . Mr. Day . I profess so I shou'd , and a notable one too , though I say 't before thy face , and that 's no ill one . Mrs. Day . Come , come , you are wandring from the matter ; Dispatch the Marriage I say , whil'st she is thus taken with Our Abel . Women are uncertain . Mr. Day .

How if she shou'd be coy ?

Mrs. Day . You are at your iffs again ; if she be foolish , Tell her plainly what she must trust to , no Abel , no Land ; Plain dealing 's a Jewel : Have you the Writings drawn As I advised you , which she must sign ? M. Day . I , I warrant you , duck ; Here , here they be . Oh she has a brave Estate . Mrs. Day .

What news you have .

Mr. Day .

Look you , Wife .

Day pulls out Writings , and lays out his Keys . Mrs. Day .

Pish , teach your Grannam to spin ; let me see .

Enter Servant . Serv. May it please your Honour , your good neighbour Zechariah is departing this troublesome life : he has made Your Honour his Executor , but cannot depart Till he has seen your Honours . Mr. Day . Alas , alas , a good man will leave us , Come , good Duck , let us hasten : Where is Obadiah to usher you ? Mrs. Day . Why Obadiah , a Varlet to be out of the way at Such a time ; truly he moveth my wrath . Come , Husband , along , I 'll take Abel in his place . Enter Ruth and Arbella . Ruth . What 's the meaning of this Alarm ? there 's some Carion Discover'd ; the Crows are all gone upon a sudden . Arb. The she - Day call'd most fiercely for Obadiah ; Look here , Ruth , what have they left behind ? Ruth . As I live , it is the Day 's bunch of Keys , which he always Keeps so closely : — well — if thou hast any metal , Now 's the time . Arb.

To do what ?

Ruth .

To fly out of Egypt .

Enter Abel . Arb. Peace , we are betray'd else ; as sure as can be , wench , He 's come back for the Keys . Ruth . We 'll forswear 'em in confident words , and no less Confident countenances . Abel . An important affair hath call'd my Honourable Father And Mother forth , and in the absence of Obadiah I am enforced To attend their Honours , and therefore I conceiv'd it right And meet to acquaint you with it ; lest in my absence you Might have apprehended , that some mischance had befallen My person : therefore I desire you to receive consolation ; And so I bid you heartily farewel . Exit . Arb. Given from his mouth this tenth of April , he Put me in a cruel fright . Ruth . As I live , I am all over in such a dew as hangs about a Still when 't is first set a going ; but this is better and better : There was never such an opportunity to break prison . I know the very places holes in his Closet where the Composition of your Estate lies , and where the Deeds of my Own Estate lie . I have cast my eye upon them often When I have gone up to him in errands , and to call Him to dinner . If I miss , hang me . Arb.

But whither shall we go ?

Ruth To a friend of mine , and of my Fathers , that lives Near the Temple , and will harbor us ; fear not , and so set Up for our selves , and get our Colonels . Arb. Nay , the mischief that I have done , and the condition We are in , makes me as ready as thou art : come let 's about it . Ruth . Stay , do you stand Centinel here , that 's the Closet-Window ; I 'll call for thee , if I need thee ; and Be sure to give notice of any news of the enemy . Exit . Arb. I warrant thee , may but this departing Brother have So much string of life left him as nay tie this expecting Day To his Bedside , till we have committed this honest Robbery — Hark! — what 's that — this apprehension can make a noise When there is none . Ruth . I have 'em , I have 'em ; nay the whole covey , And his Seal at Arms bearing a Dog's Leg. Above . Arb.

Come make haste then .

Ruth . As I live here 's a Letter counterfeited to the King , To the Rascal his rebellious Subject Day ; with a remembrance To his discreet Wife ; nay , what do'st thou think these are ? I 'll but cast my Eye upon these Papers that were Schismatically , And lay in separation : what do'st think they are ? Arb.

I can't tell ; nay prethee come away .

Ruth . Out upon the precise Baboon : They are Letters from two Wenches , one from an encrease of sallary To maintain his unlawful Issue ; another from a Wench That had more Conscience than he , and refus'd To take the Physick that he prescrib'd to take away A natural Tympany . Arb.

Nay , prethee dispatch .

Ruth . Here be abundance more ; come run up , and help Me carry 'em . We 'll take the whole Index of his Rogueries ? We shall be furnish'd with such arms , offensive and defensive , That we shall never need Sue to him for a League . Come , make haste . Arb.

I come .

Enter with the Sedan . 1. Come open this portable Tomb : 'Slife here 's nothing in it ; Ferret him , or he 'll never bolt . It looks as if we had brought A basket Hare to be set down and hunted . 2. He 's dead . 1. Dead drunk , thou mean'st ; turn up the Chair , and turn Him out as they do Badgers caught in a Sack : Shake , Man ; So , now he sallies . Obadiah tumbles out of the Chair , and sings as at the Tavern — of the Song , and Enter Arbella and Ruth from robbing the Closet . Arb.

What 's this ? we are undone .

Obad.

Mr. Teg , will you dance , Mr. Teg.

Ruth .

Put a good Face on 't , or give me the Van. O , 't is Obadiah fallen .

Arb. Nay , and cannot rise neither : d'hear , honest Friends , Was this zealous Gentleman your fraight . 1. Yes , Mistress , two honest Gentlemen took care of him , seeing Him thus devoutly over-taken . Arb. It was our Colonels that thought Day sent him to trapan Them as sure as can be . Ruth . No doubt on 't ; how unmerciful they are , Arbella , Every minute to do something or other to encrease Our whimsie — Are you paid ? 1. Yes , Mistress , — 'Slife we shall be paid double . Ruth . Stay , where did you leave the two Careful-minded Gentlemen . 1. Why do you ask , Mistress ? Ruth . For no hurt . Can'st carry us near the place ? 1. Yes , Mistress , sure there 's no danger in Women . Arb.

What do'st mean ?

Ruth . The same that thou do'st , to see 'em if I can ; Is 't near Temple-Bar ? Obadiah sings . 1. Hard by , Minstress . Ruth . Come in , there 's my Friend lives hard by ; fear not , We can never fly so conceal'd — May that Nightingale continue His note , till the Owl Day returns to hear him : Come , Honest Fellow , stay over against the place where you Left the Gentlemen ; we have some business with them ; We 'll pay you , and they 'll thank you : so good night , Mr. Day . 1. I warrant you , Mistress . Come along , Tom. Obad.

Some small Beer , good Mr. Teg.

Exeunt . Enter as return'd , Mr. Day , Mrs. Day , and Abel . Mr. Day .

He made a good end , and departed as unto sleep .

Mrs. Day . I 'll assure you his Wife took on grievously ; I do not believe she 'll marry this half year . Mr. Day . He died full of Exhortation . Ha , Duck , Shou'dst be sorry to lose me ? Mrs. Day . Lose you ; I warrant you you 'll live as long as A better thing — Ah , Lord , what 's that ? Obadiah sings . Mr. Day . How now ! what 's this ? how ! — Obadiah — And in a drunken distemper assuredly ! Mrs. Day . O fie upon'e , who wou'd have believ'd that he Shou'd have liv'd to have seen Obadiah overcome with the Creature ? Where have you been , Sirrah ? Obad.

D — d — drinking , the Ki — Ki — Kings's Health .

Mr. Day . O terrible , some disgrace put upon us , and shame Brought within our Walls ; I 'll go lock up my Neighbour's Will , and come down and shew him A Reproof . — How — how — I cannot feel my Keys — nor — He feels in his Pocket , and leaps up to . Hear 'em gingle : Didst thou see my Keys , Duck ? Mrs. Day . Duck me no ducks ; I see your Keys , see a Fools Head of your own : Had I kept them , I warrant they had been Forth coming : You are so slappish , you throw 'em up and Down at your Tail : Why don't you go look if you have Not left them in the Door ? Mr. Day .

I go , I go , Duck.

Exit . Mrs. Day . Here , Abel , take up this fallen Creature , who has Left his uprightness ; carry him to a Bed , and when he is Return'd to himself , I will exhort him . Abel .

He is exceedingly over-whelmed .

Obad. Stand away , I say , and give me some Sack , that He goes to lift him . I may drink a health to the King , and let Committees Be damn'd with their gain . Obadiah sings . Where 's Mr. Teg ? Enter Teg. Mr. Day . Undone , undone , rob'd , rob'd ; the Door 's left Open , and all my Writings , Papers stollen , undone , undone . Ruth , Ruth ! Mrs. Day .

Why Ruth , I say , Thieves , Thieves !

Enter Servant . Serv. What 's the matter , Forsooth ? here has been no Thieves , I have not been a minute out of the House . Mrs. Day .

Where 's Ruth , and Mrs. Arbella ?

Serv.

I have not seen them a pretty while .

Mr. Day . 'T is they have rob'd me , and taken away The Writings of both their Estates . Undone , undone ! Mrs. Day . This came with staying for you , Coxcomb , We had come back sooner else : yes , slow Drone , we must Be undone for your dullness . Obad.

Be not in wrath .

Mrs. Day . I 'll wrath you , ye Rascal you , teaching you , Drunken Rascal , and you sober Dullman . Obad. Your Feet are swift and violent ; their motion Will make them fume . Mrs. Day .

D'lye too , ye drunken Rascal ?

Mr. Day . Nay patience , good Duck , and let 's lay out For these Women ; they are the Thieves . Mrs. Day . 'T was you that left your Keys upon the Table To tempt them : ye need cry , good Duck , be patient . Bring in The drunken Rascal , ye Booby , when he is sober he may Discover something . Come take him up ; I 'll have 'em hunted . Exeunt . Abel . I rejoice yet in the midst of my sufferings , that my Mistress Saw not my rebukes . Come , Obadiah , I pray raise your self Upon your Feet , and walk . Obad.

Have you taken the Covenant ? that 's the question .

Abel .

Yea.

Obad. And will you drink a Health to the King ? That 's t'other question . Abel .

Make not thy self a scorn .

Obad.

Scorn in thy Face ; void , young Satan .

Abel .

I pray you walk in , I shall be assisting .

Obad. Stand off , and you shall perceive by my stedfast going , That I am not drunk . Look ye now — so , softly , softly ; gently , Good Obadiah , gently and steadily , for fear it should be said That thou art in drink : so , gently and uprightly , Obadiah . Abel .

You do not move .

He moves his Legs , but stands still . Obad.

Then do I stand still , as fast as you go .

Enter Mrs. Day . Mrs. Day . What , stay all day ? there 's for you , Sir ; You are a sweet Youth to leave in trust ; along you Drunken Rascals , I 'll set you both forward . Obad. The Philistines are upon us , and Day is broke loose From darkness , with keeping has made her fierce . She beats 'em off . Mrs. Day . Out , you drunken Rascal , I 'll make You move , you Beast . Exeunt .

ACT V. SCENE I. Enter Bookseller and Bayliffs , having laid hold on Teg. Booksell .

COme along , Sir , I 'll teach you to take Covenants .

Teg. Will you teach me then ; did I not take It then ? why will you teach me now ? Booksell . You shall pay dearly for the blows you struck me , My wild Irish , by St. Patrick , you shall . Teg. What have you now to do with St. Patrick ? he will Scorn your Covenant . Booksell . I 'll put you , Sir , where you shall have worse liquor , Than your Bonny-Clabber . Teg. Bonny-Clabber ! by my Goships hand now you are A Rascal if you do not look Bonny-Clabber , and I will break Your pate if you will not let me go to my Master . Booksell .

O you are an impudent Rascal . Come , away with him .

Enter C. Careless . C. Car. How now , hold , my Friend ; whither do You carry my Servant ? Booksell . I have arrested him , Sir , for striking me , and taking Away my Books . C. Car.

What has he taken away ?

Booksell . Nay , the value of the thing is not much ; 'T was the Covenant , Sir . Teg. Well , I did take the Covenant , and my Mastero took it From me , and we have taken the Covenant then , have we not ? C. Car. Here , honest Fellow , here 's more than thy Covenant's Worth ; here , Bayliffs , here 's for you to drink . Booksell . Well , Sir , you seem an honest Gentleman ; for Your sake , and in hopes of your Custom , I release him . 〈◊〉 .

Thank ye , noble Sir .

C. Car. Farewel , my noble Friends — so — d'hear , Teg. Ex. Pray take no more Covenants , — Have you paid the money I sent you with ? Teg.

Yes , but I will carry no more , look you there now .

C. Car.

Why , Teg ?

Teg.

God sa'my Soul now , I shall run away with it .

C. Car.

Pish , thou art too honest .

Teg. That I am too upon my Soul now ; but the Devil is Not honest , that he is not ; he would not let me alone When I was going ; but he made go to this little long place , And t'other little long place ; and upon my Soul was carrying Me to Ireland , for he made me go by dirty place like a lough Now ; and therefore I know now it was the way to Ireland : Then I wou'd stand still , and then he wou'd make me go on ; And then I wou'd go to one side , and he wou'd make me go To t'other side ; and then I got a little farther , and did Run then ; and upon my Soul the Devil cou'd not catch me ; And then I did pay the money : but I will carry no more Money now that I will not . C. Car. But thou sha't , Teg , when I have more to send ; Thou art proof now against temptations . Teg. Well then , if you send me with money again , and if I Do not come to thee upon the time , the Devil will make me Be gone then with the money : Here is a Paper for thee , 'T is a quit way indeed . C. Car.

That 's well said , Teg. —

Reads . Enter Mr. Day , Obadiah , and Souldiers . Obad. See , Sir , Providence hath directed us ; there is one Of them that clothed me with shame , and the most malignant Among the wicked . Mr. Day . Souldiers , seize him , I charge him with Treason ; Here 's a Warrant to the Keeper , as I told you . 1 S.

Nay , no resistance now .

C. Car.

What 's the matter , Rascals ?

Mr. Day . You shall know that to your cost hereafter , Away with him . C. Car.

Teg , tell 'em I shall not come home to night , I am engag'd .

Teg.

I prethee ben't engag'd .

C. Car.

Gentlemen , I am guilty of nothing , that I know of .

Mr. Day .

That will appear , Sir : away with him .

Teg.

What will you do with my Master now ?

Mr. Day .

Be quiet , Sir , or you shall go with him .

Teg.

That I will for all you now .

C. Car.

Teg , come hither .

Whisper . Teg.

Must not I go with you then ?

C. Car.

No , no , be sure to do as I tell you .

Mr. Day . Away with him , we will be aveng'd on the scorner , And I 'll go home and tell my Duck this part of my good fortune . Exe. Enter Sedan , Women come out . Ruth . So far we are right , now , honest Fellow , step over And tell the two Gentlemen , that we two Women desire To speak with them . Enter C. Blunt , Lieutenant . 1 C.

See , Mistress , here 's one of them .

Ruth . That 's thy Colonel , Arbella , catch him quickly , Or he 'll fly again . Arb.

What shou'd I do ?

Ruth . Put forth some good words , as they use to Shake Oats when they go to catch a skittish Jade . Advance . Arb.

Sir .

C. Bl.

Lady — 't is she .

Arb. I wish , Sir , that my Friend and I had some conveniency Of speaking with you : we now want the assistance of Some noble Friend . C. Bl. Then I am happy ; bring me but to do something For you ; I wou'd have my actions talk , not I : my Friend Will be here immediately ; I dare speak for him too — Pardon my last confusion ; but what I told you was as true As if I had staid . Ruth .

To make Affidavit of it .

C. Bl. Good over-charged-Gentlewoman , Spare me but a little . Arb. Prethee peace , canst thou be merry , and we in This condition . Sir , I do believe you noble , truly worthy : If we might withdraw any whither out of sight , I wou'd acquaint you with the business . Lieu. My House , Ladies , is at that Door , where both The Colonels lodge : Pray command it , Colonel Careless Will immediately be here . Enter Teg. Teg. Well now , my good Master will not come ; That Commit Rogue Day has got him with Men in red Coats , And he is gone to Prison here below this Street ; He wou'd not let me go with him i'faith , But made me come tell thee now . Ruth . O my heart — Tears by your leave a while — Wipes her eyes . D' hear , Arbella , here , take all the trinkets , only the bait that I 'll use ; accept of this House , here let me find thee , I 'll try my Skill ; nay , talk not . Exit . C. Bl. Careless in Prison ! Pardon me , Madam , I must Leave you for a little while ; pray be confident , This honest Friend of mine will use you with All respects till I return . Arb.

What do you mean to do , Sir ?

C. Bl. I cannot tell , yet I must attempt something , You shall have a sudden account of all things ; You say you dare believe , Pray be as good as your word ; and Whatever accident befals me , know I love you dearly : Why do you weep ? Arb.

Do not run your self into a needless danger .

C. Bl. How , d' you weep for me ? pray let me see , never Woman Did so before , that I know of , I am ravish'd with it ; the Round gaping Earth ne'r suck'd showrs so greedily , As my heart drinks these : Pray if you love me , be but So good and kind as to confess it . Arb.

Do not ask what you may tell your self .

C. Bl. I must go , Honour and Friendship call me : Here , Dear Lieutenant , I never had a Jewel but this ; use it as Right ones shou'd be used ; do not breath upon it , but Gaze as I do , — hold — one word more ; the Souldier that You often talk'd of to me , is still honest . Lieu.

Most perfectly .

C. Bl.

And I may trust him .

Lieu.

With your Life .

C. Bl. Enough , — pray let me leave my last looks fix'd Upon you — So , I love you , and am honest ; be careful , Good Lieutenant , of this treasure — She weeps still — I cannot go , I must — Exit . Lieu. Madam , pray let my House be honoured with you ; Be consident of all respect and faith . C. Bl.

What uncertainties pursue my Love and Fortune .

Exeunt . Enter Ruth with a Souldier . Ruth . Come , give me the bundle , he now the habit ; 'T is well , there 's for your pains , be secret , and wait Where I appointed you . Soul . If I fail , may I dye in a Ditch , and there lie , And out-stink it . Exit . Ruth . Now for my wild Colonel ; first , here 's a Note , With my Lady Day 's Seal to it , for his Release ; if that fails ( As he that will shoot at these Rascals must have two Strings To his Bow ) Then here 's my Red-Coats skin to disguise him , And a string to draw up a Ladder of Cords , which I have Prepared against it grows dark ; one of them will hit sure , I must have him out , and I must have him when he is out : I have no patience to expect — within there — ho. — Enter Keeper . Ruth . You have not a Prisoner , Sir , in your Custody , One Colonel Careless ? Keep .

Yes , Mrs. and committed by your Father Mr. Day .

Ruth . I know it ; but there was a mistake in it ; here 's a Warrant For his Delivery , under his Hand and Seal . Keep . I wou'd willingly obey it , Mrs ; but there 's a general Order come from above , that all the Kings Party shou'd be kept Close , and none releas'd but by the States Order . Ruth .

This goes ill ; may I speak with him , Sir ?

Keep . Very freely , Mrs. there 's no order to forbid any to come To him : To say Truth , 't is the most pleasant'st Gentleman . — I 'll call him forth . Exit . Ruth . O' my conscience every thing must be in love with him ; Now for my last hopes ; if this fail , I 'll use the Ropes My self . Enter Keeper and Careless . C. Car.

Mr. Day 's Daughter speak with me ?

Keep .

I , Sir , there 〈◊〉 is .

Exit . Ruth . O Sir , does the name of Mr. Day 's Daughter Trouble you ; you love the Gentlewoman , but hate his Daughter . C. Car. Yes , I do love that Gentlewoman you speak of most Exceedingly . Ruth . And the Gentlewoman loves you : but what luck This is , that Day 's Daughter shou'd ever be with her to spoil all ! C. Car. Not a whit one way ; I have a pretty Room — Within , dark , and convenient . Ruth .

For what ?

C. Car. For you and I to give Counter-security for Our kindness to one another . Ruth .

But 〈…〉 Day 's Daughter will be there too ?

C. Car.

'T is dark , we 'll ne'er see her .

Ruth . You care not who you are Wicked with ; methinks A Prison shou'd tame you . C. Car. Why , d' you think a Prison takes away blood And sight ? As long as I am so qualified , I am Touch-wood , and When ever you bring fire , I shall fall a burning . Ruth .

And you wou'd quench it .

C. Car.

And you shall kindle it again .

Ruth . No , you will be burnt out at last , burnt to a coal , Black as dishonest love . C. Car. Is this your business ? Did you come to disturb my Contemplations with a Sermon ? Is this all ? Ruth . One thing more ; I Love you , it 's true ; but I love you Honestly , if you know how to love me vertuously , I 'll free You from Prison , and run all Fortunes with you . C. Car. Yes , I cou'd love thee all manner of ways ; If I cou'd not , freedom were no bait ; were it from death . I shou'd despise your offer to bargain for a lye . — but — Ruth .

Oh noble — but what ?

C. Car. The Name of that Rascal that got thee : yet I lye Too , he ne'er got a Limb of thee . Pox on 't , thy Mother Was as unlucky to bear thee : But how shall we salve that ; Take but off these incumbrances , and I 'll purchase thee in Thy Smock ; but to have such a slaw in my Title . Ruth .

Can I help Nature ?

C Car. Or I honour ? Why , bark you now , do but swear Me into a pretence , do but betray me with an Oath , that thou Wert not begot on the Body of Gillian , My Fathers Kitchen-maid . Ruth .

Who 's that ?

C. Car.

Why , the honourable Mrs. Day that now is .

Ruth .

Will you believe me if I swear ?

C. Car.

I that I will , though I know all the while 't is not true .

Ruth . I swear then by all that 's good , I am not their Daughter . C. Car. Poor kind Perjur'd pretty one , I am beholding To thee ; woud'st damn thy self for me ? Ruth . You are mistaken , I have try'd you fully ; You are noble , and I hope you love me ; be ever firm to Virtuous principles : My Name is not so godly 〈…〉 one As Ruth , but plain Anne , and Daughter to Sir 〈…〉 Thorowgood , One perhaps that you have heard of , since in the World he Has still had so loud and fair a Character : 't is too long to tell You how this Day got me an Infant , and my Estate Into his power , and made me pass for his 〈…〉 Daughter , My Father dying when I was but two years 〈…〉 . This I knew but lately , by an unexpected meeting of an ancient Servant of my Fathers : but two hours since Arbella and I Found an opportunity of stealing away all the Writings that Belong'd to my Estate , and her Composition : 〈…〉 flight We met your Friend , with whom I left heras soon as I had Intelligence of your misfortune , to try to get your liberty ; Which if I can do , you have an Estate , for I have mine . C. Car.

Thou more than —

Ruth . No , no , no Raptures at this time ; here'd our disguise Purchas'd from a true hearted Red coat ▪ here 's a 〈…〉 Let this Line down when 't is almost dark , and you shall draw Up a Ladder of Ropes ; if the Ladder of Ropes be done sooner , I 'le send them by a Souldier that I dare trust ; and you may , Your Window 's large enough : As soon as you receive it Come down ; if not , when 't is dusk , let down your line ; And at the bottom of the Window you shall find yours , More than her own , not Ruth , but Anne . C. Car.

I 'll leap into thy arms . —

Ruth . So you may break your neck : If you do , I 'll jump too ; But time steals on our Words ; observe , all I have told you : So farewell . — C. Car. Nay , as the good Fellows use to say , Let us not part With dry Lips . — One kiss . Ruth

Not a bit of me , till I am all Yours .

C. Car. Your hand then , to shew I am grown reasonable . A poor Compounder . Ruth .

Pish , there 's a dirty Glove upon 't . —

C. Car. Give me but any naked part , and I 'll kiss it as a Snail Creeps , and leave sign where my Lips slid along — Ruth . Good Snail , get out 〈◊〉 your hole first , think of Your business . So fare C. Car. Nay , prethee he not ▪ asham'd that thou art loth To leave me . ' 'Slid , I am a Man , but I 'm as arrant a Rogue , as thy Quondam Father Day , it I cou'd not cry to leave thee A brace of Minutes . Ruth . Away , we grow foolish — farewel — yet be careful — Nay , go in . C. Car.

Do you go first .

Ruth .

Nay , sie , go in .

C. Car. We 'll fairly then divide the Victory , And draw off together . — So — I will have the last look . Exeunt severally , looking at one another . Enter C. Blunt , and Souldier . C. Bl. N 〈…〉 words ; I do believe , nay , I know thou art Honest I may 〈…〉 thank thee better . Soul . I scorn any encouragement to love my King , or those That serve him . I took Pay under these People , With a design to do him Service ; the Lieutenant knows it . C. Bl. He has told me so , no more words , thou art a noble Fellow ; thou art sure his Window 's large enough ? Soul .

Fear it not .

C. Bl Here then , carry him this ladder of Ropes : So now give Me the Coat ; say not a word to him , but bid him dispatch When he sees the Coast clear ; he shall be waited for at The bottom of his Window . Give him thy Sword too if He desires it . Soul .

I 'll dispatch it instantly , therefore get to your place .

C. Bl.

I warrant ye .

Exit . Enter Teg. Teg. Have you done every thing then ? By my shoul now , Yonder is the Man with the hard name ; that Man now , that I Made drunk for thee , Mr. Tay's Rascal ; he is coming along There behind , now upon my Shoul that he is . C. Bl. The Rascal comes for some mischief . Teg , now , or Never play the Man . Teg.

How shou'd I be a Man then ?

C. Bl. Thy Master is never to be got out , if this Rogue Gets hither ; meet him therefore , Teg , in the most winning Manner thou canst , and make him once more Drunk , and it Shall be call'd the Second Edition of Obadiah , put forth With Irish Notes upon him ; and if he will not go drink with thee . Teg. I will carry him upon my back-side , if he will not go ; And if he will not be Drunk , I will cut his Throat then , that I will , for my sweet Master now , that I will . C. Bl. Dispatch good Teg , and dispatch him too if he will Not be conformable ; and if thou canst but once more Be Victorious , bring him in Triumph to Lieutenant Story 's , There shall be the general Rendezvouz : Now or never , Teg. Teg. I warrant you , I will get drink into his Pate , or I will Break it for him ; that I will , I warrant you : He shall Not come after you now . C. Bl. Good luck go with thee : The Fellow 's faithful and Stout ; that fear 's over : Now to my station . C. Careless as in Prison . Exit . C Car. The time 's almost come , how slow it flutters ? My desires are better wing'd : how I long to counterfeit A faintness when I come to the bottom , and sink into the arms Of this dear witty fair ! — Ha , who 's this ? Enter Souldier . Soul . Here , Sir , here 's a Ladder of Ropes , fasten it to your Window , and descend : you shall be waited for . C. Car. The careful her creature has sent it — but d'hear , Sir , Cou'd you not spare that implement by your side ; it might Serve to keep off small Curs . Soul . You 'l have no need on 't , but there 't is , make haste , The coast is clear . Exit . C. Car. O this pretty she Captain General over my Soul And body ; the thought of her musters every faculty I have : She has sent the Ropes , and stays for me ; no danger of the Ropes , ever slide down with that swiftness ( of desire of haste ) That I will make to thee . Exit . Enter Blunt in his Souldiers Coat . C. Bl. All 's quiet , and the coast clear ; so far it goes well ; That is the window , in this nook I 'll stand , till I see him Coming down . Steps in . C. Careless above in his Souldiers habit , lets down the Ladder of Ropes and speaks . C. Car. I cannot see my North Star that I must Sail by , 't is Clouded , only she stands close perhaps in some corner ; I 'll not trifl time , all 's clear ; Fortune , forbear Thy tricks , but for this small occasion . Enter Blunt . C. Bl. What 's this , a Souldier in the place ; Careless , I am betray'd , but I 'll end this Rascalls duty . C. Car.

How , a Souldier ! betray'd ! this Rascal shan't laugh at me .

C. Bl.

Dog .

C. Car.

How Blunt !

C Bl.

Careless !

C. Car. You guess shrewdly ; plague , what contrivance Hath set you and I a Tilting at one another . C. Bl.

How the Devil got you a Souldiers habit ?

C. Car. The same Friend for ought I know , that furnish'd you . This kind Gentlewoman is Ruth still . Ha , here she is ; I was just ready to be suspicious . Enter Ruth , with a Ladder of Ropes . Ruth .

Who 's there ?

C. Car.

Two notable charging Red-coats .

Ruth .

As I live , my heart is at my mouth .

C. Car. Prethee , let it come to thy Lips , that I may kiss it ; What have you in your lap ? Ruth .

The Ladder of Ropes : How a Gods name got you hither ?

C. Car.

Why , I had the Ladder of Ropes , and came down by it .

C Bl then the mistake is plainer ; 't was I that sent the Souldier with the Ropes . Ruth . What an Escape was this ! come , let 's lose no time ; Here 's no place to explain Matters in . C. Car.

I will stay to tell thee , I shall never deserve thee .

Ruth . Tell me so when you have had me a little while . Come ▪ Follow me , put on your plainest Garb ; not like a Dancing Master , with your Toes out . Come along , Hang down your head , Ruth pulls their Hats over their Eyes ▪ As if you wanted pay . So. Exit . Enter Mr. Day , Mrs. Day , Abel , and Mrs. Chat. Mrs. Day .

Are you sure of this , Neighbour Chat ?

Mrs. Ch.

I 'm as sure of it , as I am that I have a Nose to my Face .

Mrs Day . Is my — You may give one leave methinks to ask out one question . Is my Daughter Ruth with her ? Mrs. Ch. She was not when I saw Mrs. Arbella last ; I have not Been so often at your Honours House , but that I know Mrs. Arbella , the rich Heir , that Mr. Abel was to have had , Good Gentleman , if he has his due ; they never suspected Me for — to buy things of my Neighbour Story , before she Married the Lieutenant ; and stepping in to see Mrs. Story That now is ; my Neighbour Wish-well , that was ; I saw , as I told you , this very Mrs. Arbella , and I warrant Mrs. Ruth Is not far off . Mrs. Day .

Let me advise then , Husband .

Mr. Day .

Do , good Duck , I 'll warrant 'em .

Mrs. Day .

You 'll warrant when I have done the business .

Mr. Day .

I mean so , Duck.

Mrs Day . Well , pray spare your meaning too ; first then We 'll go our selves in person to this Story 's House , and in the Mean time send Abel for Souldiers ; and when he has brought The Souldiers , let them stay at the Door , and come up himself ; And then if fair means will not do , foul shall . Mr. Day . Excellent well advised , sweet Duck : Ah let thee alone . Be gone , Abel , and observe thy Mother's Directions . Remember the place . We 'll be reveng'd for Robbing us , and for all their tricks . Abel .

I shall perform it .

Mrs. Day . Come along , Neighbour , and shew us the best way , And by and by we shall have news from Obadiah , who is gone To give the t'other Colonels Gaoler a double charge to keep The wild Youth close . Come , Husband , let 's hasten . Mrs. Chat , The State shall know what good service you have done . Mrs. Chat.

I thank your Honour .

Exeunt ▪ Enter Arbella and Lieutenant . Lieu Pray , Madam , weep no more ; spare your tears till You know they have miscarried . Arb. 'T is a Woman , Sir , that weeps ; we want Mens reasons And their courage to practise with . Lieu.

Look up , Madam , and meet your unexpected joys .

Enter Ruth , C. Careless , C. Blunt . Arb.

Oh my dear Friend , my dear , dear Ruth .

C. Car. Pray none of these phlegmatick hugs ; there , take Your Colonel , my Captain and I can hug afresh every minute . Ruth .

When did we hug last , good Souldier ?

C. Car. I have done nothing but hug'd thy infancy , ever since You Ruth turn'd Annice . Arb. You are welcome , Sir , I cannot deny I shar'd in all your danger . Lieu

If she had deny'd it , Colonel , I would have betray'd her .

C. Bl. I know not what to say , nor how to tell , how dearly , How well — I love you . Arb. Now can't I say I love him , yet I have A mind to tell him too . Ruth .

Keep 't in and choak your self , or get the rising of the lights .

Arb.

What shall I say ?

Ruth .

Say something , or he 'll vanish .

C. Bl. D' ye not believe I love you , or can't you love me ? Not a word ? cou'd you — but — Arb. No more , I 'll save you the labour of Courtship , which Shou'd be too tedious to all plain and honest natures : It is enough , I know you love me . C. Bl.

Or may I perish whilst I am swearing it .

Lieu.

How now , Jack !

Enter Prentice . Boy . O Master , undone ! here 's Mr. Day the Committee-man , And his fierce Wife , come into the Shop : Mrs Chat Brought them in , and they say they will come up , they know That Mrs. Arbella , and their Daughter Ruth , is here : Deny 'em if you dare , they say . Lieu. Go down , Boy , and tell 'em I 'm coming to 'em ; this pure Jade , my Neighbour Chat , has betray'd us ; what shall I do ? I warrant the Rascal has Souldiers at his heels : I think I Cou'd help the Colonels out at a back Door . C. Bl. I 'd dye rather by my Arbella ; Now You shall see I love you . C. Car.

Nor will I Charles forsake you Annice .

Ruth . Come , be chearful , I 'll defend you all against The assaults of Captain Day , and Major General Day , his New drawn up Wife ; give me my Ammunition , the Papers , Woman . So , if I do not rout 'em , fall on ; let 's all dye together , And make no more Graves but one . C. Bl.

'Slife , I love her now for all she has jeer'd me so .

Ex. Lieut. Ruth . Go fetch 'em in , Lieutenant , stand you all drawn up As my reserve — so — I for the Forlorn Hope . C. Car. That we had , Teg , here to quarrel with the Female Triumphing Day , whilst I threw the Maie Day out of the Window . Hark , I hear the Troop marching ; I know the she Day stamp Among the tramples of a Regiment . Arb. They come , Wench , charge 'em bravely , I 'll second thee with a Volley . Ruth . They 'll not stand the first charge , fear not ; Now the Day breaks . C. Car.

Wou'd 't were his Neck were broke .

Enter Mr. Day , and Mrs. Day . Mrs. Day . Ah ha , my fine run-aways , have I found you ? What , you think my Husbands honour lives without intelligence . Marry come up . Mr. Day .

My Duck tells you how 't is — we —

Mrs. Day . Why then let your Duck tell 'em how 't is ; Yet as I was saying , you shall perceive we abound in intelligence ; Else 't were not for us to go about to keep the Nation Quiet ; but if you , Mrs. Arbella , will deliver up what you have Stollen , and submit , and return with us , and this ungracious Ruth . Ruth .

Anne , if you please .

Mrs. Day .

Who gave you that Name pray ?

Ruth . My God-Fathers and God-Mothers in Baptism ; on , for Sir , I can answer a Leaf farther . Mr. Day . Duck , good Duck , a word ; I do not like this Name Annice . Mrs. Day . You are ever in a fright , with a shrivell'd heart Of your own . Well , Gentlewomen , you are merry . Arb.

As newly come out of our Wardships , I hope Mr. Abell is well .

Mrs. Day . Yes , he is well , you shall see him presently ; Yes , you shall see him . C. Car. That is with Mirmidans , come , good Anne , no more Delay , fall on . Ruth . Then before the furious Abel approaches with his Red-Coats , who perhaps are now marching under the Conduct Of that expert Captain in weighty matters ; know the Articles Of our Treaty are only these : This Arbella will keep her Estate , and not marry Abel , but this Gentleman ; and I Anne , Daughter to Sir Basil Thorowgood , and not Ruth , As has been thought , have taken my own Estate , Together with this Gentleman , for better for worse : we were Modest , though Thieves , only plundred our own . Mrs. Day . Yes , Gentlewoman , you took something else , And that my Husband can prove ; it may cost you your Necks If you do not submit . Ruth .

Truth on 't is , we did take something else .

Mrs. Day .

Oh , did you so ?

Ruth . Pray give me leave to speak one word in private With my Father Day ? Mrs. Day . Do so , do so ; are you going to compound ? Oh , 't is Father Day now . Ruth .

D'hear , Sir , how long is 't since you have practis'd Physick ?

Takes him aside . Mr. Day .

Physick , what d' ye mean ?

Ruth . I mean Physick ; look ye here 's a small prescription Of yours : d' ye know this hand-writing ? Mr. Day .

I am undone .

Ruth . Here 's another upon the same subject ; this young one I Believe came into this wicked World for want of your preventing Dose ; it will not be taken now neither ; it seems your Wenches Are willful : nay , I do not wonder to see 'em have more Conscience than you have . Mr. Day .

Peace , good Mrs. Anne , I am undone if you betray me .

Enter Abel , goes to his Father . Abel .

The Souldiers are come .

Mr. Day . Go and send 'em away , Abel ; here 's no need , No need now . Mrs. Day .

Are the Souldiers come , Abel ?

Abel .

Yes , but my Father biddeth me send 'em away .

Mr. Day . No , not without your opinion , Duck ; but since They have but their own , I think , Duck , if we were all Friends . Mrs. Day . O , are you at your ifs again ; d' you think they Shall make a Fool of me , though they make an Ass of you : Call 'em up , Abel , if they will not submit ; Call up the Souldiers , Abel . Ruth . Why your fierce Honour shall know the business That makes the wise Mr. Day inclinable to Friendship . Mr. Day .

Nay , good sweet heart , come , I pray let us be Friends .

Mrs. Day . How 's this ! what am not I fit to be trusted now ? Have you built your credit and reputation upon my council And labours , and am not I fit now to be trusted ? Mr. Day . Nay , good sweet Duck , I confess I owe All to thy wisdom . Good Gentlemen , perswade my Duck That we may be all Friends . C. Car. Hark you , good Gillian Day , be not so fierce upon The Husband of thy Bosom ; 't was but a small start of frailty ; Say it were a Wench , or so ? Ruth . As I live he has hit upon 't by chance : now we Shall have sport . Aside . Mrs. Day . How , a Wench , a Wench ! out upon the Hypocrite . A Wench ! was not I sufficient ? a Wench ! I 'll be reveng'd , Let him be ashamed if he will : call the Souldiers , Abel . C. Car.

Haste , good Abel , march not off so hastily .

Arb. Soft , gentle Abel , or I 'll discover , you are in Bonds ; You shall never be released if you move a step . Ruth . D'hear , Mrs. Day , be not so furious , hold your peace ; You may divulge your Husbands shame if you are so simple , And cast him out of Authority , nay and have him trv'd for His Life : read this , remember too I know of your Bribery And Cheating , and something else ▪ you guess , be Friends , And forgive one another ; here 's a Letter counterfeited From the King , to bestow preferment upon Mr. Day , if He would turn honest ; by which means I suppose you Cousened your Brother Cheats , in which he was to remember His service to you ; I believe 't was your indicting : you are the Committee-man , 't is your best way : nay , never demur ; So , kiss and be Friends . Now if you can contrive handsomly To cozen those that cozen all the World , and get these Gentlemen to come by their Estates easily , and without Taking the Covenant , the old Sum of five hundred pound That I used to talk of , shall be yours yet . Mrs. Day .

We will endeavour .

Ruth .

Come , Mrs. Arbella , pray let 's all be Friends .

Arb.

With all my heart .

Ruth . Brethren , Abel , the Bird is flown , but you shall be Released from your Bonds . Abel .

I bear my afflictions as I may .

Enter Teg leading Obadiah in a Halter , and Musician . Teg. What is this now ? who are you ? well , are not you Mrs. Tay ? well , I will tell her what I should say now ? Shall I then ? I will try if I cannot laugh too , as I did , that I will . C. Car. No , good Teg , there 's no need of thy Message now ; But why do'st thou lead Obadiah thus ? Teg. Well , I will hang him presently , that I will ; look you Here Mrs Tay , here 's your Man Obadiah , do you see that now ? He wou'd not let me make him drunk ; no more that He wou'd not ; so , I did take him in this string , and I did tell Him if he did make noises , I wou'd put the Knife into Him , that I wou'd upon my Soul . C Bl. Honest Teg , thy Master is beholding to thee in some Measure for his liberty . C. Car.

Teg , I shall require thy honesty .

Teg. Well , shall I hang him then ? It is a Rogue now ; who Wou'd not be drunk , that he wou'd not . Obad. I do beseech you , Gentlemen , let me not Be brought unto death ? C. Car. No , poor Teg , 't is enough we are all Friends ; Come , let him go . Teg. Well , he shall go then ; but you shall love the King , Or I will hang you another time , that I will by my Soul . Well , Look you here now , here is the Man that sung you the Song , That he is ; I met him as I came , and I bid him come hither And sing for the King , that I did . C. Car. D'hear , my Friends , is any of your Companions with you ? Mu.

Yes , Sir .

C. Car. As I live we 'll all dance ; it shall be the celebration Of our Weddings : nay , Mr. Day , as we hope to continue Friends , you and your Duck shall trip it too . Teg. I by my Soul will we ; Obadiah shall be my Woman too ; And you shall dance for the King , that you shall . C. Car. Go , and strike up then , no chiding now , Mrs. Day ; Come , you must not be refractory for once . Mrs. Day . Well , Husband , since these Gentlemen will have It so , and that they may perceive we are Friends , Dance . C. Bl. Now , Mr. Day , to your business , get it done as soon as You will , the five hundred pound shall be ready . C. Car. So , Friends , thank honest Teg , thou shalt flourish In a new Livery for this : Now , Mrs. Annice , I hope you and I may agree about kissing , and compound every way . Now , Mr. Day , if you will have good luck in every thing , Turn Cavalier , and cry , God bless the King . Exeunt .

Epilogue . BUT now the greatest thing is left to do , More just Committee , to Compound with you ; For , till your equal Censures shall be known , The Poet 's under Sequestration : He has no Title to his small Estate Of Wit , unless you please to set the Rate . Accept this half years purchace of his Wit , For in the compass of that time 't was Writ : Not that this is enough , he 'll pay you more , If you your selves believe him not too poor : For 't is your judgments give him wealth , in this , He 's just as rich as you believe he is . Wou'd all Committees cou'd have done like you , Made Men more rich , and by their payments too . FINIS .

THE Indian Queen , A TRAGEDY . Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD .

LONDON , Printed for Henry Herringman , and are to be Sold by R. Bentley , J. Tonson , F. Saunders , and T. Bennet . MDCXCII .

Dramatis Personae . THE Ynca of Peru. Montezuma his General . Acacis Son to Zempoalla . Traxalla General to Zempoalla . Garrucca , a faithful Subject to Amexia . The God of Dreams . Ismeron , one of their Prophets , a Conjurer . Officers and Souldiers . Peruvians and Mexicans . Priests . Amexia , the lawful Queen of Mexico . Zempoalla , the Usurping Indian Queen . D Orazia , Daughter to the Ynca . Attendants of Ladies .

PROLOGUE . As the Musick plays a soft Air , the Curtain rises softly , and discovers an Indian Boy and Girl sleeping under two Plantain-Trees ; and when the Curtain is almost up , the Musick turns into a Tune expressing an Alarm , at which the Boy wakes and speaks . Boy . WAke , wake , Quevira ; our soft rest must cease , And fly together with our Country's Peace ; No more must we sleep under Plantain shade , Which neither Heat could pierce , nor Cold invade ; Where bounteous Nature never feels decay , And op'ning Buds drive falling Fruits away . Que. Why should men quarrel here , where all possess As much as they can hope for by success ? None can have most , where Nature is so kind As to exceed Man's Use , though not his Mind . Boy . By ancient Prophecies we have been told Our World shall be subdu'd by one more old ; And see that World already 's hither come . Que. If these be they , we welcome then our Doom . Their Looks are such , that Mercy flows from thence , More gentle than our Native Innocence . Boy . Why should we then fear these are Enemies , That rather seem to us like Deities ? Que. By their protection let us beg to live ; They came not here to Conquer , but Forgive . If so , your Goodness may your Pow'r express ; And we shall judge both best by our success .

THE Indian Queen .

ACT I. SCENE I. Enter Ynca , Orazia , Montezuma , Acasis , Prisoners , with Peruvians . Ynca . THrice have the Mexicans before us fled , Their Armies broke , their Prince in Triumph led ; Both to thy Valour , brave young Man , we owe ; Ask thy Reward , but such as it may show It is a King thou hast oblig'd , whose Mind Is large , and like his Fortune unconfin'd . Mont. Young and a Stranger to your Court I came , There by your Favour rais'd to what I am : I Conquer , but in right of your great Fate , And so your Arms , not mine , are Fortunate . Ynca . I am impatient , till this Debt be paid , Which still encreases on me while delay'd ; A Bounteous Monarch to himself is kind ; Ask such a Gift as may for ever bind Thy service to my Empire , and to me . Mont. What can this Gift he bids me ask him be ! Perhaps he has perceiv'd our mutual Fires , And now with ours , wou'd crown his own Desires ; 'T is so , he sees my Service is above All other payments but his Daughters Love . Aside . Ynca . So quick to merit , and to take so slow ? I first prevent small wishes , and bestow This Prince , his Sword and Fortunes to thy hand ; He 's thine unask'd ; Now make thy free demand . Mont. Here , Prince , receive this Sword , as only due Gives Acacis his Sword . To that excess of Courage shown in you . When you without demand , a Prince bestow , Less than a Prince to ask of you , were low . Ynca .

Then ask a Kingdom ; say where thou wilt Reign .

Mont. I beg not Empires , those my Sword can gain ; But for my past and future Service too , What I have done , and what I mean to do ; For this of Mexico which I have won , And Kingdoms I will Conquer yet unknown ; I only ask from fair Orazia's Eyes To reap the Fruits of all my Victories . 1. Peru

Our Ynca's Colour mounts into his Face .

2. Peru.

His Looks speak Death .

Ynca . Young Man of unknown Race , Ask once again , so well thy Merits plead ; Thou shal't not Die for that which thou hast said : The price of what thou ask'st , thou dost not know ; That Gift's too high . Mont.

And all besides too low .

Ynca .

Once more I bid thee ask .

Mont. Once more I make The same demand . Ynca . The Ynca bids thee take Thy choice , what Towns , what Kingdoms thou wouldst have . Mont. Thou giv'st me only what before I gave . Give me thy Daughter . Ynca . Thou deserv'st to dye . O thou great Author of our Progeny , Thou glorious Sun , dost thou not blush to shine , While such base Blood attempts to mix with thine ! Mont. That Sun thou speakst of did not hide his face , When he beheld me Conquering for his Race . Ynca . My Fortunes gave thee thy success in Fight ; Convey thy boasted Valour from my sight ; I can o'recome without thy feeble aid . Exit . Ynca , Orazia , Peruvians . Mont. And is it thus , my Services are paid ? Not all his Guards — Offers to go , Acaces holds him . Aca.

Hold , Sir .

Mont.

Unhand me .

Aca. No , I must your Rage prevent , From doing what your Reason wou'd repent ; Like the vast Seas , your Mind no limits knows , Like them lies open to each Wind that blows . Mont.

Can a Revenge that is so just be ill ?

Aca.

It is Orazia's Father you wou'd kill .

Mont.

Orazia , how that name has charm'd my Sword ?

Aca. Compose these wild Distempers in your Breast ; Anger , like Madness , is appeas'd by Rest. Mont. Bid Children sleep , my spirits boil too high ; But since Orazia's Father must not Dye , A nobler Vengeance shall my Actions guide , I 'll bear the Conquest , to the conquered side , Until this Ynca for my Friendship sues , And proffers what his Pride does now refuse . Aca.

Your Honour is oblig'd to keep your trust .

Mont.

He broke that Bond in ceasing to be just .

Aca.

Subjects to Kings shou'd more Obedience pay .

Mont.

Subjects are bound , not Strangers , to obey .

Aca. Can you so little your Orazia prize , To give the Conquest to her Enemies ? Can you so easily forego her sight ? I that hold Liberty more dear than Light : Yet to my freedom , shou'd my chains prefer , And think it were well lost to stay with her . Mont. How unsuccessfully I still o'recome , I brought a Rival , not a Captive home ; Yet I may be deceiv'd ; but 't is too late To clear those doubts , my stay brings certain fate . Aside . Come , Prince , you shall to Mexico return , Where your sad Armies do your absence mourn ; And in one Battle I will gain you more Than I have made you lose in three before . Aca No , Montezuma , though you change your side , I as a Prisoner am by Honour ty'd . Mont.

You are my Prisoner , and I set you free .

Aca.

'T were baseness to accept such Liberty .

Mont.

From him that Conquer'd you , it shou'd be fought .

Aca.

No , but from him , for whom my Conqueror fought .

Mont.

Still you are mine , his Gift has made you so .

Aca.

He gave me to his General , not his Foe .

Mont. How poorly have you pleaded Honours Laws ? Yet shun the greatest in your Country's Cause . Aca.

What succour can the Captive give the Free ?

Mont. A needless Captive is an Enemy , In painted Honour you wou'd seem to shine ; But 't wou'd be clouded , were your wrongs like mine . Aca. When Choler such unbridled power can have , Thy Vertue seems but thy revenge's Slave : If such injustice shou'd my Honour stain , My Aid wou'd prove my Nations loss , not gain . Mont. Be cousend by thy guilty honesty , To make thy self thy Countrey 's Enemy . Aca. I do not mean in the next Fight to stain My Sword in Blood of any Mexican , But will be present in the fatal strife To guard Orazia's , and the Ynca's Life . Mont. Orazia's Life , fond Man : First guard thy own , Her Safety she must owe to me alone . Aca. Your Sword that does such Wonders , cannot be , In an ill Cause , secure of Victory . Mont.

Hark , hark .

Noise of trampling . Aca. What noise is this invades my ears ? Fly , Montezuma , fly ; the Guards are near To favour your Retreat : I 'le freely pay That Life , which you so frankly gave this day . Mont. I must retire , but those that follow me , Pursue their Deaths , and not their Victory . Ex. Mont. Aca. Our Quarrels kinder , than our Friendships prove : You for my Country Fight , I for your Love . Enter Ynca and Guards . Ynca . I was to blame , to leave this mad Man free , Perhaps he may revolt to th' Enemy , Or stay , and raise some fatal Mutiny . Aca.

Stop your Pursuits , for they must pass through me .

Ynca .

Where is the slave ?

Aca.

Gon. —

Ynca .

Whither ?

Aca. O're the Plain . — Where he may soon the Camp , or City gain . Ynca . Curse on my dull neglect — And yet I do less cause of wonder find , That he is gone , than that thou stayest behind . Aca. My treatment since you took me was so free , It wanted but the name of liberty . I with less shame can still your Captive live , Than take that freedom which you did not give . Ynca . Thou brave young Man , that hast thy years out-done , And losing Liberty hast Honour won : I must my self thy Honour's Rival make , And give that freedom which thou wou'dst not take . Go and be safe . — Aca. But that you may be so — Your dangers must be past before I go . Fierce Montezuma will for sight prepare , And bend on you the fury of the War , Which by my presence I will turn away , If Fortune gives my Mexicans the Day . Ynca . Come then , we are alike to honour just , Thou to be trusted thus , and I to trust . — Ex. all . Enter Zempoalla , Traxalla , and Attendants . Zemp. O my Acacis ! Does not my grief , Traxalla , seem too rude , Thus to press out before my Gratitude Has paid my debts to you ? — yet it does move My Rage and Grief , to see those Powers above Punish such Men , as if they be Divine , They know will most Adore , and least Repine . Trax. Those that can only mourn when they are crost , May lose themselves with grieving for the lost . Rather to your retreated Troops appear , And let them see a Woman void of fear : The shame of that may call their Spirits home . Were the Prince safe , we were not overcome , Though we retir'd : O his too youthful heat , That thrust him where the dangers were so great ! Heaven wanted power his Person to protect , From that which he had Courage to neglect : But since he 's lost , let us draw forth , and pay His Fun'ral Rites in Blood ; that we are they May in our Fates perform his Obsequies , And make Death Triumph when Acacis dies . Zemp. That Courage thou hast shown in Fight seems less Than this , amidst Despair to have Excess : Let thy great deeds force Fate to change her mind , He that courts Fortune boldly makes her kind . Trax. If e'r Traxalla so successful proves , May be then say he hopes as well as Loves ; And that aspiring Passion boldly own , Which gave my Prince his Fate , and you his Throne ? I did not feel Remorse to see his Blood Plow from the spring of life into a flood ; Nor did it look like Treason , since to me You were a Sovereign much more great than he . Zemp. He was my Brother , yet I scorn'd to pay Nature's mean debts , but threw those Bonds away ; When his own Issue did my hopes remove , Not only from his Empire , but his Love . You that in all my wrongs then bore a part , Now need not doubt a place within my heart : I cou'd not offer you my Crown and Bed , Till Fame and Envy with long time were dead ; But Fortune now does happily present Occasions fit to second my intent . Your Valour may regain the Publick Love , And make the Peoples Choice their Queens approve . Shout . Hark , hark , what noise is this that strikes my Ear ! Trax. 'T is not a sound that should beget a fear ; Such Shouts as these have I heard often fly From Conquering Armies crown'd with Victory . Zemp. Great God of Vengeance , here I firmly vow , Make but my Mexicans successful now , And with a thousand Feasts thy flames I 'll feed ; All that I take shall on thy Altars bleed ; Princes themselves shall fall , and make thy Shrine , Dy'd with their blood , in glorious blushes shine . Enter Messenger . Trax. How now ! — What News is this that makes thy haste a flight ? Mess. Such as brings Victory without a Fight ; The Prince Acaces lives . — Zemp.

Oh , I am blest . —

Mess. Reserve some joy till I have told the rest . He 's safe , and only wants his liberty ; But that great Man that carries Victory Where e'er he goes ; that mighty Man by whom In three set Battels we were overcome ; Ill us'd ( it seems ) by his ungrateful King , Does to our Camp his Fate and Valour bring . The Troops gaze on him , as if some bright Star Shot to their Aids , call him the God of War : Whilst he , as if all Conquest did of right Belong to him , bids them prepare to fight ; Which if they shou'd delay one hour , he swears He 'll leave them to their Dangers or their Fears , And Shame ( which is th' ignoble Cowards choice . ) At this the Army seem'd to have one Voice , United in a shout , and call'd upon The God-like Stranger , Lead us , lead us on . Make haste , Great Sir , lest you should come too late , To share with them in Victory or Fate . Zemp. My Gen'ral go ; the Gods be on our side ; Let Valour act , but let Discretion guide . Exit Traxalla . Great God of Vengeance — I see thou dost begin to hear me now ; Make me thy Off'ring if I break my Vow . Exeunt .

ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Ynca , Orazia , as pursued in a Battle . Orazia . O Fly , Sir , fly , like torrents your swift Foes Come rowling on . — Ynca . The Gods can but destroy . The noblest way to fly , is that death shows ; I 'll court her now , since Victory 's grown coy . Oraz. Death's wing'd to your pursuit , and yet you wait To meet her — Ynca . Poor Orazia , time and fate Must once o'ertake me ▪ though I now shou'd fly . Oraz.

Do not meet death ; but when it comes then dye .

Enter three Souldiers . 3. Sould.

Stand , Sir , and yield your self , and that fair prey .

Ynca .

You speak to one unpractis'd to obey .

Enter Montezuma . Mont. Hold , Villains , hold , or your rude lives shall be Lost in the midst of your own Victory : These I have hunted for ; nay do not stare , Be gone , and in the common plunder share . Ex. Sould. How different is my Fate , from theirs , whose Fame From Conquest grows ! from Conquest grows my shame . Ynca . Why do'st thou pause ? thou canst not give me back With fruitless grief , what I enjoyed before , No more than Seas repenting of a Wrack , Can with a calm our buried wealth restore . Mont. 'T were vain to own repentance , since I know Thy scorn , which did my passions once despise , Once more would make my swelling anger flow ; Which now ebbs lower than your miseries : The Gods that in my fortunes were unkind , Gave me not Scepters , nor such gilded things ; But whilst I wanted Crowns ; inlarg'd my mind To despise Scepters , and dispose of Kings . Ynca . Thou art but grown a Rebel by success , And I that scorn'd Orazia shou'd be ty'd To thee my slave , must now esteem thee less : Rebellion is a greater guilt than Pride . Mont. Princes see others faults but not their own ; 'T was you that broke that Bond , and set me free : Yet I attempted not to climb your Throne , And raise my self ; but level you to me . Oraz. O Montezuma , cou'd thy love engage Thy Soul so little , or make Banks so low About thy heart , that thy revenge and rage , Like suddain Floods , so soon shou'd over-flow ! Ye Gods , how much was I mistaken here ! I thought you gentle as the gaulless Dove ; But you as humoursome as Winds appear , And subject to more Passions than your Love . Mont. How have I been betray'd by guilty rage , Which like a flame rose to so vast a height That nothing cou'd resist , nor yet asswage , Till it wrapt all things in one cruel fate , But I 'll redeem my self , and act such things , That you shall blush Orazia was deny'd ; And yet make Conquest , though with wearied Wings , Take a new flight to your now fainting side . Ynca . Vain Man , what foolish thoughts fill thy swell'd mind ? It is too late our ruine to recal ; Those that have once great Buildings undermin'd Will prove too weak to prop them in their fall . Enter Traxalla with the former Souldiers . 1 Sould. See , mighty Sir , where the bold stranger stands , Who snatch'd these glorious Prisoners from our hands . Trax. 'T is the great Ynca , seize him as my prey , To crown the triumphs of this glorious day . Mont. Stay your bold hands from reaching at what 's mine , If any title springs from Victory ; You safer may attempt to rob a shrine , And hope forgiveness from the Deity . Enter Acacis . Trax. O my dear Prince , my Joys to see you live Are more than all that Victory can give . Aca. How are my best endeavours crost by fate ! Else you had ne'er been lost , or found so late . Hurried by the wild fury of the fight , Far from your presence , and Orazia's sight , I could not all that care and duty show , Which as your Captive ( mighty Prince ) I owe. Ynca . You often have preserv'd our lives this day , And one small debt with many bounties pay . But humane actions hang on springs that be Too small , or too remote for us to see . My glories freely I to yours resign , And am your Prisoner now , that once were mine . Mont. These Prisoners , Sir , are mine by right of War ; And I 'll maintain that right , if any dare . Trax. Yes , I wou'd snatch them from thy weak defence ; But that due reverence which I owe my Prince , Permits me not to quarrel in his sight , To him I shall refer his General 's right . Mont. I knew too well what Iustice I shou'd find From an arm'd Plaintiff , and a judge so kind . Aca. Unkindly urg'd , that I shou'd use thee so ; Thy Vertue is my Rival , not my Foe ; The Prisoners Fortune gave thee shall be thine . Trax.

Would you so great a prize to him resign ?

Aca. Shou'd he who boldly for his Prey design'd To dive the deepest under swelling tides , Have the less title if he chance to find ▪ The richest Jewel that the Ocean hides ? They are his due — But in his Vertue I re pose that trust , That he will be as kind as I am just : Dispute not my Commands , but go with haste , Rally our Men , they may pursue too fast , And the disorders of the inviting Prey May turn again the fortune of the day . Ex Trax. Mont. How gentle all this Prince's actions be ! Vertue is calm in him , but rough in me . Aca

Can Montezuma place me in his Breast ?

Mont.

My heart 's not large enough for such a Guest .

Aca.

See , Montezuma , see , Orazia weeps .

Orazia weeps . Mont. Acacis , is he deaf , or waking , sleeps ? He does not hear me , sees me not , nor moves ; How firm his Eyes are on Orazia fixt ! Gods that take care of Men , let not our loves Become divided by their being mixt . Aca. Weep not , fair Princess , nor believe you are A Prisoner subject to the chance of War ; Why shou'd you waste the stock of those fair Eyes That from Mankind can take their liberties ? And you , great Sir , think not a generous mind To vertuous Princes , dares appear unkind , Because those Princes are unfortunate , Since over all Men hangs a doubtful fate : One gains by what another is bereft ; The frugal Deities have only left A common bank of happiness below , Maintain'd like nature , by an ebb and flow . Ex. omnes . Zempoalla appears seated upon a Throne , frowning upon her Attendants ▪ then comes down and speaks . Zemp. No more , you that above your Princes dare proclaim With your rebellious breath a stranger's name . 1. Peru.

Dread Empress —

Zemp. Slaves , perhaps you grieve to see Your young Prince glorious , 'cause he sprang from me ; Had he been one of base Amexia's brood , Your Tongues , though silent now , had then been loud . Enter Traxalla . Traxalla , welcome , welcomer to me , Than what thou bring'st , a Crown and Victory . Trax. All I have done is nothing , fluttering Fame Now tells no News , but of the Stranger 's Name , And his great Deeds ; 't is he they cry by whom Not Men , but War it self is overcome ; Who bold with his success , dares think to have A Prince to wear his Chains , and be his Slave . Zemp.

What Prince —

Trax. The great Peruvian Ynca , that of late In three set Battles was so Fortunate , Till this strange Man had power to turn the tide , And carry Conquest unto any side . Zemp. Wou'd you permit a private Man to have The great Peruvian Ynca for his Slave ! Shame to all Princes ! was it not just now I made a sacred , and a solemn Vow To offer up ( if blest with Victory ) The Prisoners that were took , and they shall dye . Trax. I soon had snatched from this proud stranger's hand That too great object for his bold demand ; Had not the Prince your Son , to whom I owe A kind obedience , judg'd it shou'd be so . Zemp. I 'll hear no more ; go quickly take my Guards , And from that Man force those usurpt rewards ; That Prince upon whose Ruines I must rise , Shall be the Gods , but more my Sacrifice : They with my Slaves in Triumph shall be tyed , While my Devotion justifies my Pride . Those Deities in whom I place my Trust , Shall see when they are kind , that I am Just. Ex. Zemp. Trax. How gladly I obey — There 's something shoots through my enliven'd Frame , Like a new Soul , but yet without a Name : Nor can I tell what the bold guest will prove , It must be Envy , or it must be Love ; Let it be either , 't is the greatest bliss For Man to grant himself , all he dares wish ; For he that to himself , himself denies , Proves meanly wretched , to be counted wise . Ex. Traxal . Enter Montezuma , Acacis . Aca. You wrong me , my best friend , not to believe Your kindness gives me joy , and when I grieve , Unwillingly my Sorrows I obey , Showres sometimes fall upon a shining day . Mont. Let me then share your Griefs , that in your fate Wou'd have took part — Aca. Why shou'd you ask me that ? Those must be mine , though I have such excess ; Divided Griefs increase , and not grow less . Mont. It does not lessen Fate , nor satisfie The Grave , 't is true , when Friends together dye ; 〈…〉 et they are unwilling to divide . 〈…〉 . To such a Friend nothing can be deny'd You , when you hear my story will forgive My grief , and rather wonder that I live . Unhappy in my Title to a Throne , Since Blood made way for my Succession : Blood of an Uncle too , a Prince so free From being Cruel , it taught Cruelty . His Queen Amexia then was big with Child ; Nor was he gentler , than his Queen was mild : Th' impatient people long'd for what shou'd come From such a Father , bred in such a Womb — When false Traxalla , weary to obey , Took with his Life their joyes and hopes away . Amexia by the assistance of the Night , When this dark Deed was acted , took her flight ; Only with true Garrucca for her aid ; Since when , for all the searches that were made , The Queen was never heard of more : yet still This Traytor lives , and prospers by the ill : Nor does my Mother seem to reign alone , But with this Monster shares the guilt and Throne : Horror choaks up my words ; now you 'l beheve 'T is just I shou'd do nothing else but grieve . Mont. Excellent Prince . — How great a proof of vertue have you shown , To be concern'd for griefs , though not your own ! Aca.

Pray say no more . —

Enter a Messeng●●●astily . Mont.

How now , whither so fast ?

Mess. O Sir , I come too slow with all my haste ! The fair Orazia — Mont.

Ha , what do'st thou say ?

Mess. Orazia with the Ynca's forc'd away Out of your Tent ; Traxalla in the head Of the rude Souldiers , forc'd the Door , and led Those glorious Captives , who on Thrones once shin'd , To grace the Triumph that is now design'd . Ex. Mess. Mont. Orazia forc'd away ! what tempests roul About my thoughts , and toss my troubled Soul ? Can there be Gods to see , and suffer this ? Or does Mankind make his own fate or bliss ; While every good and bad happens by chance , Not from their orders , but their ignorance — But I will pull a ruine on them all , And turn their Triumph to a Funeral . Aca.

Be temperate , Friend .

Mont. You may as well advise That I shou'd have less love , as grow more wise . Aca. Yet stay — I did not think to have revealed A secret which my heart has still concealed ; But in this cause since I must share with you , 'T is sit you know — I love Orazia too : Delay not then , nor wast the time in words , Orazia's cause calls only for our Swords . Mont. That tyes my hand , and turns from thee that rage Another way ; thy blood shou'd else asswage : The Storm on our proud Foes shall higher rise , And changing , gather blackness as it flies : So when Winds turn , the wandering Waves obey , And all the Tempest rouls another way . Aca. Draw then a Rivals Sword , as I draw mine , And like Friends suddenly to part , let 's join In this one act , to seek one destiny ; Rivals with honour may together die . Exeunt .

ACT III. SCENE I. Zempoalla appears seated upon her Slaves in Triumph , and the Indians as to celebrate the Victory , advance in a Warlike Dance ; in the midst of which Triumph , Acacis and Montezuma fall in upon them . Zempoalla descends from her Triumphant Throne , and Acacis and Montezuma are brought in before her . Zemp. SHame of my blood , and Traytor to thy own , Born to dishonour , not command a Throne ; Hast thou with envious Eyes my Triumph seen ? Or cou'dst not see thy Mother in the Queen ? Cou'dst thou a stranger above me prefer ? Aca. It was my Honour made my Duty err ; I cou'd not see his Prisoners forc'd away , To whom I ow'd my Life , and you the day . Zemp.

Is that young Man the Warrior so renown'd ?

Mont. Yes , he that made thy Men thrice quit their ground . Do , smile at Montezuma's Chains ; but know , His Valour gave thee power to use him so . Trax. Grant that it did , what can his merits be , That sought his Vengeance , not our Victory ? What has thy bruitish fury gain'd us more , Than only heal'd the wounds it gave before ? Dye then , for whilst thou liv'st , Wars cannot cease ; Thou may'st bring Victory , but never Peace . Like a black storm thou roul'st about us all , E'en to thy self unquiet till thy fall . Draws to kill him . Aca.

Unthankful Villain , hold .

Trax. You must not give Him succour , Sir . Aca. Why then I must not live . Posterity shall ne'er report they had Such thankless Fathers , or a Prince so bad . Zemp. You 'r both too bold to will or to deny , On me alone depends his destiny . Tell me , audacious Stranger , whence cou'd rise The confidence of this rash enterprize ? Mont. First tell me how you dar'd to force from me The fairest spoils of my own Victory ? Zemp. Kill him — hold , must he dye ? — why let him dye ; Whence shou'd proceed this strange diversity In my resolves ? — Does he command in Chains ? what wou'd he do Proud Slave , if he were free , and I were so ? But is he bound , ye Gods , or am I free ? 'T is love , 't is love , that thus disorders me : How Pride and Love tear my divided Soul ! For each too narrow , yet both claim it whole : Love as the younger must be forc'd away ; Hence with the Captives ( General ) and convey To several Prisons that — young Man , and this — — Peruvian Woman — Trax. How concern'd she is ! I must know more . Mont. Fair Princess , why shou'd I Involve that sweetness in my destiny ? I cou'd out-brave my death , were I alone To suffer , but my fate must pull yours on . My breast is armed against all sence of fear , But where your Image lies , 't is tender there . Ynca . Forbear thy saucy love , she cannot be So low , but still she is too high for thee . Zemp.

Be gone , and do as I command , away .

Mont.

I ne'er was truly wretched 'till this day ▪

Orazia . Think half your sorrows on Orazia fall , And be not so unkind to suffer all : Patience in Cowards is tame hopeless fear , But in brave minds a scorn of what they bear . Exit Ynca , Montezuma , Orazia , Traxalla . Zemp.

What grief is this which in your face appears ?

Aca.

The badge of sorrow , which my Soul still wears .

Zemp. Though thy late actions did my Anger move , It cannot rob thee of a Mother's love ▪ Why shou'dst thou grieve ? Grief seldom join'd with blooming youth is seen , Can sorrow be where knowledge scarce has been , Fortune does well for heedless youth provide , But Wisdom does unlucky age misguide ▪ Cares are the train of present power and state , But hope lives best that on himself does wait ▪ O happiest Fortune if well understood , The certain prospect of a future good ▪ Aca. What joy can Empire bring me when I know ▪ That all my greatness to your crimes I owe ? Zemp.

Yours be the joy , be mine the punishment .

Aca. In vain alas that wish to Heaven is sent For me , if fair Orazia must not live . Zemp. Why shou'd you ask me what I cannot give ? She must be sacrific'd : Can I bestow What to the Gods by 〈…〉 ? Aca. O plead not Vows ; I wish you had not shown You slighted all things 〈◊〉 for a Throne . Zemp. I love thee so , that though fear follow still , And horrour urges , all that have been 〈◊〉 I cou'd for thee — Act o'r my crimes agen , and not repent , Even when I bore the shame and punishment ▪ Aca. Cou'd you so many ill acts undertake , And not perform one good 〈◊〉 for my sake ? Zemp. Prudence permits not pity 〈◊〉 be shown ▪ To those that rais'd the War to shake my Throne ▪ Aca. As you are wise , permit 〈…〉 just ▪ What Prudence will not venture , 〈◊〉 must ; We owe our Conquest to 〈…〉 , 'T is just his Prisoners be to him restor'd ▪ I love Orazia , but a nobler way — Than for my Love my Honour to betray . Zemp. Honour is but an itch in youthful Blood , Of doing Acts extravagantly good ; We call that Vertue , which is only Heat That reigns in Youth , till Age finds out the cheat . Aca. Great Actions first did her Affections move , And I by greater , wou'd regain her love . Zemp. Urge not a Suit which I must still deny ; Orazia and her Father , both shall dye : Be gone , I 'll hear no more — Aca. You stop your Ears — But though a Mother will not , Heaven will hear ; Like you I vow , when to the Pow'rs Divine You pay her guiltless Blood , I 'll offer mine . Ex. Acacis . Zemp. She dies , this happy Rival that enjoys The Stranger 's love , and all my hopes destroys ; Had She triumph'd , what cou'd She more have done , Than robb'd the Mother , and enslav'd the Son ? Nor will I at the name of Cruel stay , Let dull successive Monarchs mildly sway : Their Conquering Fathers did the Laws forsake , And broke the Old , e're they the New cou'd make . I must pursue my Love — yet Love enjoy'd , Will with esteem that caus'd it first grow less ; But Thirst and Hunger fear not to be cloy'd , And when they be , are cur'd by their Excess . Enter Traxalla . Trax. Now I shall see , what thoughts her Heart conceals ; For that which Wisdom covers , Love reveals . Madam , the Prisoners are dispos'd . Zemp. They are — And how fares our Young blustering Man of War ? Does he support his Chains with patience yet ? Trax.

He , and the Princess , Madam .

Zemp.

Are they met ? —

Trax.

No , but from whence is all this Passion grown ?

Zemp.

'T was a mistake .

Trax. I find this rash Unknown Is dangerous ; and if not timely Slain , May plunge your Empire in new Wars again . Zemp.

Thank ye , I shall consider .

Trax. Is that all ? — The Army doat on him , already call You cruel ; and for ought I know , they may By force Unchain , and Crown him in a day . Zemp. You say , I have already had their curse For his bad usage ; shou'd I use him worse ? Trax. Yet once you fear'd his Reputation might Obscure the Prince's in the People's sight . Zemp. Time will inform us best , what course to steer , But let us not our Sacred Vows defer : The Ynca , and his Daughter both shall Dye . Trax. He Suffers justly for the War ; but why Shou'd she share his sad fate ? a poor pretence , That birth shou'd make a crime of innocence . Zemp. Yet we destroy the poisonous Vipers young , Not for themselves , but those from whom they sprung . Trax. O no , they die not for their Parents sake , But for the poisonous seed which they partake ; Once more behold her , and then let her dye , If in that face or person you can see But any place to fix a Cruelty : The Heavens have Clouds , and spots are in the Moon ; But faultless Beauty shines in her alone . Zemp.

Beauty has wrought compassion in your mind .

Trax. And you to Valour are become as kind . To former services there 's something due . Yet be advised — Zemp.

Yes by my self , not you —

Trax.

Princes are sacred .

Zemp. True , whilst they are free ; But power once lost , farewell their sanctity : 'T is power to which the Gods their worship owe , Which , uncontroul'd , makes all things just below : Thou do'st the Plea of saucy Rebels use , They will be judge of what their Prince must chuse : Hard fate of Monarchs , not allow'd to know When safe , but as their Subjects tell them so . Then Princes but like publick Pageants move , And seem to sway because they sit above . Ex. Zemp. Trax. She loves him ; in one moment this new Guest Has drove me out from this false Womans Breast ; They that wou'd fetter Love with Constancy , Make Bonds to Chain themselves , but leave him free . With what impatience I her fallhood bear ! Yet do my self that which I blame in her ; But Interest in my own Cause makes me see That Act unjust in her , but just in me . Exit Traxalla . Ismeron asleep in the Scene . Enter Zempoalla . Zemp. Ho , Ismeron , Ismeron . He stirs not ; ha , in such a dismal Cell Can gentle Sleep with his soft blessings dwell ? Must I feel tortures in a humane Breast , While Beasts and Monsters can enjoy their Rest ? What quiet they possess in sleeps calm bliss ! The Lions cease to roar , the Snakes to hiss , While I am kept awake — Only to entertain my Miseries . Or if a slumber steal upon my Eyes , Some horrid Dream my lab'ring Soul benums , And brings Fate to me sooner than it comes . Fears most oppress when sleep has seiz'd upon The outward parts , and left the Soul alone . What envy'd blessing 's these curs'd things enjoy ! Next to possess , 't is pleasure to destroy . Ismeron ; ho Ismeron , Ismeron . Stamps . Ism. Who 's that with so loud and fierce a call Disturbs my rest ? Zemp. She that has none at all , Nor ever must , unless thy powerful Art Can charm the Passions of a troubled heart . Ism. How can you have a discontented mind , To whom the Gods have lately been so kind ? Zemp. Their envious kindness how can I enjoy , When they give Blessings , and the use destroy ? Ism. Dread Empress , tell the cause of all your grief ▪ If Art can help , be sure of quick Relief . Zemp. I dream'd before the Altar that I led A mighty Lion in a twisted thread ; I shook to hold him in so slight a tie , Yet had not power to seek a remedy : When in the midst of all my fears a Dove , With hovering Wings , descended from above , Flew to the Lion , and Embraces spread , With Wings , like clasping Arms , about his head , Making that murm'ring noise that cooing Doves Use in the soft expression of their Loves . While I , fix'd by my wonder , gaz'd to see So mild a Creature with so fierce agree , At last the gentle Dove turn'd from his head , And pecking try'd to break the slender thread , Which instantly she sever'd , and releas'd From that small bond the fierce and mighty Beast , Who presently turn'd all his rage on me , And with his Freedom brought my Destiny . Ism. Dread Empress , this strange Vision you relate Is big with wonder , and too full of fate Without the Gods assistance to expound . In those low Regions where sad Night hangs round The drowsie Vaults , and where moist Vapors steep The God's dull brows that sways the Realm of Sleep ; There all th' informing Elements repair , Swift Messengers of Water , Fire , and Air , To give account of Actions whence they came , And how they govern every mortal frame ; How from their various mixture , or their strife , Are known the Calms and Tempests of our Life : Thence Souls , when Sleep their Bodies overcome , Have some imperfect knowledge of their doom . From those dark Caves those Powers shall strait appear ; Be not afraid whatever shapes they wear . Zemp. There 's nothing thou canst raise can make me start ; A living form can only shake my heart . Ism. You twice Ten Hundred Deities , To whom we daily sacrifice ; You Powers that dwell with Fate below , And see what men are doom'd to do ; Where Elements in discord dwell ; Thou God of Sleep , arise and tell Great Zempoalla what strange Fate Must on her dismal Vision wait . Zemp. How slow these Spirits are ! Call , make them rise , Or they shall fast from Flame and Sacrifice . Ism. Great Empress — Let not your rage offend what we adore , And vainly threaten , when we must implore . Sit and silently attend , — While my powerful Charms I end . By the creaking of the Toad , In their Caves that make aboad , Earthy Dun that pants for breath , With her swell'd sides full of death ; By the Crested Adders Pride That along the Clifts do glide ▪ By thy visage fierce and black ; By the Deaths-head on thy back ; By the twisted Serpents plac'd For a Girdle round thy Waste . By the Hearts of Gold that deck Thy Brest , thy Shoulders , and thy Neck : From thy sleepy Mansion rise , And open thy unwilling Eyes , While bubling Springs their Musick keep , That use to lull thee in thy sleep . God of Dreams rises . God . Seek not to know what must not be reveal'd ; Joys only flow where Fate is most conceal'd : Too busie Man wou'd find his Sorrows more , If future Fortunes he shou'd know before ▪ For by that knowledge of his Destiny He wou'd not live at all , but always die . Enquire not then who shall from Bonds be freed , Who 't is shall wear a Crown , and who shall bleed : All must submit to their appointed doom ; Fate and Misfortune will too quickly come : Let me no more with powerful Charms be prest , I am forbid by Fate to tell the rest . The God descends . Zemp. Stay Couz'ner , thou that hat'st clear truth like light , And usest words dark as thy own dull night . You Tyrants Gods do you refuse to free The Soul you gave from its perplexity ? Why shou'd we in your mercies still believe , When you can never pity though we grieve ? For you have bound your selves by harsh decrees ; And those , not you , are now the Deities . Sits down sad . Ism. She droops under the weight of Rage and Care : You Spirits that inhabit in the Air , With all your powerful Charms of Musick try To bring her Soul back to its Harmony . SONG is suppos'd sung by Aerial Spirits . POor Mortals that are clog'd with Earth below Sink under Love and Care , While we that dwell in Air Such heavy Passions never know . Why then should Mortals be Unwilling to be free From Blood , that sullen Cloud , Which shining Souls does shroud ? Then they 'l shew bright , And like us light , When leaving Bodies with their Care , They slide to us and Air. Zemp. Death on these Trifles : Cannot your Art find Some means to ease the Passions of the Mind ? Or if you cannot give a Lover rest , Can you force Love into a Scornful Breast ? Ism. 'T is Reason only can make Passions less ; Art gives not new , but may the old encrease ; Nor can it alter Love in any Breast That is with other flames before possess'd . Zemp. If this be all your slighted Art can do , I 'll be a Fate both to your Gods and you ; I 'll kindle other Flames , since I must burn , And all their Temples into ashes turn . Ism.

Great Queen .

Zemp. If you wou'd have this Sentence staid , Summon their Godheads quickly to your aid , And presently compose a Charm that may Loves flames into the Strangers Breast convey , The Captive Stranger , he whose Sword and Eyes Where e'er they strike meet ready Victories : Make him but burn for me in flames like mine , Victims shall bleed , and feasted Altars shine : If not — Down go your Temples , and your Gods shall see They have small use of their Divinity . Exeunt .

ACT IV. SCENE I. The Scene opens and discovers Montezuma sleeping in Prison . Enter Traxalla leading in Orazia . Trax. NOW take your choice , and bid him live or die ; To both shew Pity , or shew Cruelty : 'T is you that must condemn , I 'll only act ; Your Sentence is more cruel than my Fact . Oraz. You are most cruel to disturb a mind Which to approaching Fate was so resign'd . Trax. Reward my Passions , and you 'll quickly prove There 's none dare sacrifice what I dare love Next to thee , Stranger , wake , and now resign The bold pretences of thy Love to mine , Or in this fatal minute thou shalt find — Mont ▪ Death , Fool ; in that thou maist be just and kind : 'T was I that lov'd Orazia , yet did raise The storm in which she sinks : why dost thou gaze , Or stay thy hand from giving that just stroke , Which rather than prevent , I wou'd provoke ? When I am dead , Orazia may forgive ; She never must , if I dare wish to live . Oraz. Hold , hold — O Montezuma , can you be So careless of your self , but more of me ? Though you have brought me to this misery , I blush to say I cannot see you die . Mont. Can my approaching Fate such pity move ? The Gods and you at once forgive and love . Trax. Fond Fool , thus to mispend that little breath I lent thee to prevent , not hasten Death : Let her thank you she was unfortunate , And you thank her for pulling on your fate ; Prove to each other your own Destinies . Draws . Enter Zempoalla hastily , and sets a Dagger to Orazia's Breast . Zemp. Hold , hold , Traxalla , or Orazia dies . O , is 't Orazia's Name that makes you stay ? 'T is her great Power , not mine , that you obey . Inhumane Wretch , dar'st thou the Murtherer be Of him that is not yet Condemn'd by me ? Trax. The Wretch that gave you all the pow'r you have , May venture sure to execute a Slave ; And quench a flame your fondness would have burn , Which may this City into ashes turn . The Nation in your guilty Passion lost , To me ungrateful , to your Country most : But this shall be their Offering , I their Priest . Zemp. The wounds thou giv'st I 'll copy on her Breast . Strike , and I 'll open here a spring of blood , Shall add new Rivers to the crimson flood . How his pale looks are fix'd on her ! — 't is so . Oh , does amazement on your spirit grow ? What , is your publick Love Orazia's grown ? Cou'dst thou see mine , and yet not hide thy own ? Suppose I shou'd strike first , wou'd it not breed Grief in your publick heart to see her bleed ? Trax. She mocks my passions , in her sparkling eyes Death and a close dissembled fury lies : I dare not trust her thus . — If she must die , The way to her lov'd Life through mine shall lie . He puts her by and steps before Orazia , and she runs before Montezuma . Zemp. And he that does this Stranger 's fate design , Must to his heart a passage force through mine . Trax. Can fair Orazia yet no pity have ? 'T is just she shou'd her own Preserver save . Zemp. Can Montezuma so ungrateful prove To her that gave him Life , and offers Love ? Oraz. Can Montezuma live , and live to be Just to another , and unjust to me ? You need not be ungrateful ; can she give A Life to you , if you refuse to live ? Forgive me Passion , I had rather see You dead , than kind to any thing but me . Mont. O my Orazia ! To what new joys and knowledge am I brought ! Are deaths hard lessons by a Woman taught ? How to despise my Fate I always knew ; But ne'er durst think at once of death and you : Yet since you teach this generous jealousie , I dare not wish your Life , if I must die . How much your Love my Courage does exceed ! Courage alone would shrink to see you bleed . Zemp. Ungrateful Stranger , thou shalt please thy Eyes , And gaze upon Orazia while she dies . I 'll keep my Vow : — It is some joy to see That my Revenge will prove my Piety . Trax. Then both shall die ; we have too long withstood , By private Passions urg'd , the publick good . Zemp. Sure he dissembles , and perhaps may prove My ruine with his new ambitious Love : Were but this Stranger kind , I 'd cross his Art , And give my Empire where I gave my heart . Aside . Yet thou ungrateful Man , Let thy approaching ruine make thee wise . Mont.

Thee and thy Love and Mischief I despise .

Zemp. What shall I do ? — some way must yet be try'd . What Reasons can she use whom Passions guide ? Trax. Some black designs are hatching now ; false Eyes Are quick to see anothers Treacheries . Zemp.

Rash Stranger , thus to pull down thy own fate .

Mont.

You , and that Life you offer me , I hate .

Enter Jaylor . Zemp. Here Jaylor , — take — what title must he have ? Slave — Slave — Am I then Captive to a Slave ! Why art thou thus unwilling to be free ? Mont.

Death will release me from these Chains and thee .

Zemp. Here , Jaylor , take this Monster from my sight , And keep him where it may be always night ; Let none come near him ; if thou dost , expect To pay thy Life the price of the Neglect . Mont. I scorn thy Pity and thy Cruelty , And shou'd despise a Blessing sent from thee . Zemp. Oh horror to my Soul ! take him away ; My Rage like dam'd up Streams swell'd by some stay Shall from this opposition get new force , And leave the bound of its old easie course . Come , my Traxalla , let us both forgive , And in these Wretches Fates begin to live . The Altars shall be crown'd with Fun'ral Boughs , Peace-offrings pay'd , but with unquiet Vows . Ex. Zem. Tr. Oraz. How are things ordered , that the wicked shou'd Appear more kind and gentle than the good ! Her Passion seems to make her kinder prove , And I seem cruel through excess of Love : She loves , and wou'd prevent his Death ; but I That love him better , fear he shou'd not die . My Jealousie , immortal as my Love , Wou'd rob my Grave below , and me above , Of Rest. — Ye Gods , if I repine , forgive ; You neither let me die in Peace , nor live . Enter Acacis , Taylor , and Indians . Taylor .

They are just gone , Sir .

Aca. 'T is well : be faithful to my just design , And all thy Prince's Fortune shall be thine . Exit Acacis . Indian .

This shall to the Empress .

Exit Indian . Oraz. What can this mean ! — 'T was Prince Acacis , if I durst believe My sight ; but Sorrow may like Joy deceive : Each object different from it self appears , That comes not to the Eyes but through their Tears . Enter Acacis bringing in Montezuma .

Ha! —

Aca. Here , Sir , wear this again ; Now follow me . Mont. So , very good ; — I dare not think , for I may guess amiss ; None can deceive me while I trust to this . Exeunt Omnes . Enter Orazia , conducted by two Indians with their Swords drawn : Montezuma , Acacis , whispering another Indian . Aca.

Think what a weight upon thy Faith I lay .

Ind.

I ne'er did more unwillingly obey .

Aca. First , Montezuma , take thy liberty ; Thou gav'st me freedom , here I set thee free ; We 're equal now . Madam , the danger 's great Of close pursuit ; to favour your Retreat Permit we two a little while remain Behind , while you go softly o'er the Plain . Oraz. Why shou'd I go before ? what 's your intent ? Where is my Father ? whither am I sent ? Aca. Your doubts shall soon be clear'd . Conduct heron . Exit Orazia ▪ So , Montezuma , we are now alone : That which my Honour ow'd thee I have paid ; As Honour was , so Love must be obey'd . I set Orazia as thy Captive free , But as my Mistress ask her back from thee . Mont. Thou hast perform'd what Honour bid thee do ; But Friendship bars what Honour prompts me to . Friends shou'd not fight . Aca. If Friendship we profess , Let us secure each others happiness ; One needs must die , and he shall happy prove In her Remembrance , t'other in her Love . My Guards wait near , and if I fail they must Give up Orazia , or betray their trust . Mont. Suppose thou conquer'st , wou'dst thou wander o'er The South-Sea Sands , or the rough Northern Shore , That parts thy spacious Kingdom from Peru ; And leaving Empire , hopeless Love pursue ? Aca. By which of all my actions cou'd you guess , Though more your Merit , that my Love was less ? What prize can Empire with Orazia bear ? Or where Love fills the Breast , what room for fear ? Mont. Let fair Orazia then the Sentence give , Else he may die whom she desires to live . Aca. Your greater merits bribe her to your side ; My weaker Title must by Arms be try'd . Mont. Oh Tyrant Love , how cruel are thy Laws ! I forfeit Friendship , or betray thy Cause . That Person whom I wou'd defend from all The World , that Person by my hand must fall . Aca. Our Lives we to each others Friendships owe ; But Love calls back what Friendship did bestow : Love has its Cruelties , but Friendship none ; And we now sight in Quarrels not our own . Fight . Enter Orazia . Oraz. What noise is this ? — Hold , hold ; what cause cou'd be so great to move This furious hatred ? — Mont.

'T was our surious Love . —

Aca. Love which I hid till I had set you free , And bought your pardon with my liberty : That done , I thought I less unjustly might With Montezuma for Orazia fight ; He has prevail'd , and I must now confess His Fortune greater , not my Passion less ; Yet cannot yield ye till his Sword remove , A dying Rival that holds fast his Love . Orazia . Who ever falls , 't is my Protector still , And then the crime 's as great to dye as kill . Acacis , do not hopeless love pursue , But live , and this soft malady subdue . Aca. You bid me live , and yet command me dye , I am not worth your care , fly , Madam , fly , While I fall here unpittied , o'er this Plain , Free from pursuit , the faithless Mountains gain ; And these I charge as they wou'd have me think their Friendship true . Leave me alone to serve and follow you : Make haste , fair Princess , to avoid that fate , Which does for your unhappy Father wait . Orazia . Is he then left to dye , and shall he see Himself forsaken , e'er his death , by me ? Mont.

What wou'd you do . —

Orazia . To Prison I 'll return , And there in Fetters with my Father mourn . Mont.

That saves not his , but throws your Life away .

Orazia .

Duty shall give what nature once must pay .

Aca. Life is the gift , which Heaven and Parents give , And duty best preserves it , if you live . Orazia . I shou'd but further from my Fountain fly , And like an unfed stream run on and dye : Urge me no more , and do not grieve to see Your Honour rival'd by my Piety . Exit . She goes softly off , and often looks back . Mont. If Honour wou'd not , shame wou'd lead the way . I 'll back with her . Aca. Stay , Montezuma , stay — Thy Rival cannot let thee go alone , My love will bear me , though my blood is gone . As they are going off . Enter Zempoalla , Traxalla , the Indian that went to tell her , and the rest , and seizes them . Zemp.

Seize them —

Aca.

Oh , Montezuma , thou art lost .

Orazia comes back . Mont. No more , proud heart , thy useless Courage boast . Courage thou curse of the unfortunate , That canst encounter , not resist ill fate . Zemp. Acacis bleeds . — What barbarous hand has wounded thus my Son ? Mont. 'T was I , by my unhappy Sword 't was done . Thou bleed'st , poor Prince , and I am left to grieve My Rival's fall . Trax.

He bleeds , but yet may live .

Aca. Friendship and love my failing strength renew , I dare not dye when I shou'd live for you ; My death were now my crime , as it wou'd be My guilt to live when I have set you free : Thus I must still remain unfortunate , Your Life and Death are equally my fate . Orazia comes back . Orazia . A noise again , alas what do I see ! Love thou didst once give place to Piety : Now Piety , let Love triumph awhile ; Here bind my hands : come , Montezuma , smile At Fortune , since thou sufferest for my sake , Orazia will her Captive's Chains partake . Mont.

Now , Fate , thy worst .

Zemp. Lead to the Temple straight , A Priest , and Altar for these Lovers wait : They shall be join'd , they shall . Trax. And I will prove — Those joys in Vengeance which I want in Love . Aca. I 'll quench your thirst with Blood , and will destroy My self , and with my self , your cruel joy . Now , Montezuma , since Orazia dyes , I 'll fall before thee , the first Sacrifice ; My title in her death shall exceed thine , As much as in her life , thy hopes did mine : And when with our mixt blood the Altar's dy'd , Then our new Title let the Gods decide . Exeunt .

ACT V. SCENE I. The Scene opens , and discovers the Temple of the Sun all of Gold , and four Priests in habits of white and red Feathers , attending by a bloody Altar , as ready for Sacrifice . Then Enter the Guards , and Zempoalla , and Traxalla ; Ynca , Orazia , and Montezuma bound ; as soon as they are plac'd , the Priest sings . SONG . YOU to whom Victory we owe , Whose glories rise By Sacrifice , And from our fates below ; Never did yet your Altars shine Feasted with Blood so near divine ; Princes to whom we bow , As they to you , Thus you can ravish from a Throne , And by their loss of power declare your own . Zemp. NOW to inflict those punishments that are Due to the Authors of invasive War ; Who to deceive the oppressed World , like you , Invent false quarrels to conceal the true . Ynca . My quarrel was the same that all the Gods Must have to thee , if there be any odds Betwixt those Titles that are bad or good , To Crowns descended , or usurpt by Blood : Swell not with this success , 't was not to thee , But to this Man the Gods gave Victory . Mont. Since I must perish by my own success , Think my misfortunes more , my Crimes the less ; And so forgiving make me pleas'd to dye , Thus punish'd for this guilty Victory . Ynca . Death can make Vertue easie ; I forgive : That word wou'd prove too hard were I to live ; The Honour of a Prince wou'd then deny , But in the Grave all our distinctions dye . Mont. Forgive me one thing yet ; to say I love , Let it no more your scorn or anger move , Since dying in one flame , my ashes must Embrace and mingle with Orazia's dust . Ynca . Name thy bold love no more , lest that last breath Which shou'd forgive , I stisle with my death . Orazia . Oh my dear Father ! Oh , why may not I , Since you gave Life to me , for you now dye ? Mont. 'T is I that wrought this mischief ought to fall ; A just and willing sacrifice for all . Now , Zempoalla , be both just and kind , And in my fate let me thy mercy find : Be grateful then , and grant me that esteem , That as I live , so dead I may redeem . Oraz. O do not for her cruel mercy move ; None shou'd ask pity but from those they love . Weeps . Ynca . Fond Girl , to let thy disobedient Eyes Show a concern for him whom I despise . Orazia . How love and nature may divide a Breast , At once by both their Pow'rs severely prest ! Yet , Sir , since love seems less , you may forgive , I wou'd not have you dye , nor have him live ; Yet if he dies , alas what shall I do ? I cannot dye with him , and live with you . Mont. How vainly we pursue this generous strife , Parting in death more cruel than in life ! Weep not , we both shall have one destiny , As in one flame we liv'd , in one we 'll dye . Trax. Why do we waste in vain these precious hours ? Each minute of his Life may hazard ours : The Nation does not live whilst he enjoys His life , it is his safety that destroys . He shall fall first , and teach the rest to dye . Zemp. Hold — Who is it that commands — ha , you or I ? Your Zeal grows saucy ; sure you may allow Your Empress freedom first to pay her Vow . Trax. She may allow — a justice to be done By him that rais'd his Empress to her Throne . Zemp.

You are too bold —

Trax.

And you too passionate .

Zemp. Take heed with his , you urge not your own fate . For all this pity is now due to me . Mont.

I hate thy offer'd mercy more than thee .

Trax. Why will not then the fair Orazia give Life to her self , and let Traxalla live ? Mont. Orazia will not live , and let me dye ; She taught me first this cruel jealousie . Orazia . I joy that you have learn'd it — That flame not like immortal love appears Where death can cool its warmth , or kill its fears . Zemp. What shall I do ? am I so quite forlorn , No help from my own pride , nor from his scorn ! My Rival's death may more effectual prove , He that is robb'd of hope , may cease to love : Here , lead these Offerings to their deaths . Trax. Let none — Obey , but he that will pull on his own . Zemp.

Tempt me not thus , false and ingrateful too .

Trax.

Just as ungrateful , and as false as you .

Zemp.

'T is thy false love that fears her destiny .

Trax.

And your false love that fears to have him dye .

Zemp.

Seize the bold Traytor .

Trax. What a slighted frown ▪ Troubles your brow ? feared nor obeyed by none ; Come prepare for Sacrifice . Enter Acacis weakly . Aca. Hold , hold , such Sacrifices cannot be ▪ Devotion 's but a solemn Cruelty : How can the Gods delight in humane Blood ? Think 'em not cruel ; if you think 'em good . In vain we ask that mercy , which they want , And hope that pity , which they hate to grant . Zemp. Retire , Acacis — Preserve thy self , for 't is in vain to waste Thy breath for them : The fatal Vow is past . Aca. To break that Vow is juster than commit A greater Crime , by your preserving it . Zemp. The Gods themselves their own will best express To like the Vow , by giving the Success . Aca. If all things by Success , are understood , Men that make War , grow wicked to be good : But did you Vow , those that were overcome , And he that Conquer'd both , shou'd share one Doom ? There 's no excuse ; for one of these must be Not your Devotion , but your Cruelty . Trax. To that rash Stranger , Sir , we nothing owe , What he had rais'd , he strove to overthrow : That duty lost , which shou'd our Actions guide , Courage proves Guilt , when Merits swell to Pride . Aca. Dar'st thou , who didst thy Prince's Life betray , Once name that Duty , thou hast thrown away : Like thy Injustice to this Stranger shown , To tax him with a Guilt , that is thy own ? — Can you , brave Soldiers , suffer him to Dye , That gave you Life , in giving Victory ? Look but upon this Stranger , see those Hands , That brought you Freedom , fetter'd up in Bands . Not one looks up — Lest suddain pitty shou'd their Hearts surprize , And steal into their Bosoms , through their Eyes . Zemp. Why thus in vain , are thy weak Spirits prest ? Restore thy self , to thy more needful Rest. Aca.

And leave Orazia —

Zemp. Go , you must resign — For , She must be the Gods ; not Yours , nor Mine . Aca. You are my Mother , and my Tongue is ty'd So much by Duty , that I dare not chide . Divine Orazia — Can you have so much Mercy to forgive ? I do not ask it , with design to Live , But in my Death , to have my Torments cease : Death is not Death , when it can bring no Peace ▪ Orazia .

I both Forgive , and Pity —

Aca. O say no more , lest Words less kind destroy , What these have rais'd in me of Peace and Joy ; You said , you did both Pity , and Forgive ; You wou'd do neither , shou'd Acacis live . By Death alone , the certain way appears , Thus to hope Mercy , and deserve your Tears . Stabs himself . Zemp. O my Acacis ! — What cruel Cause cou'd urge this fatal Deed Weeps ▪ He Faints , help , help , some help , or he will Bleed , His Life and mine away : Some Water there — Not one stirs from his Place ; I 'll use my Tears , to sprinkle on his Face . Aca.

Crazia . —

Zemp. Fond Child , why do'st thou call upon her name ? I am thy Mother . Aca. No , you are my shame , That blood is shed that you had title in , And with your title may it end your sin : Unhappy Prince , you may forgive me now , Thus bleeding for my Mothers cruel vow . Ynca . Be not concern'd for me — Death 's easier than the changes I have seen , I wou'd not live to trust the World again . Mont. Into my Eyes sorrow begins to creep , When hands are ty'd it is no shame to weep . Aca ▪ Dear Montezuma . I may be still your Friend , though I must dye Your Rival in her love ; Eternity Has room enough for both , there 's no desire , Where to enjoy is only to admire : There we 'll meet Friends , when this short storm is past . Mont.

Why must I tamely wait to perish last ?

Aca ▪ Crazia weeps , and my parch'd Soul appears Refresh'd by that kind shower of pitying tears ; Forgive those faults my passion did commit , 'T is punish'd with the life that nourish'd it : I had no power in this extremity To save your life , and less to see you dye . My Eyes wou'd ever on this object stay , But sinking Nature takes the props away . — Kind Death — 〈…〉 To end with pleasures all my miseries Shuts up your Image in my closing Eyes . Dyes . Enter a Messenger . 1 Mess.

To Armes , to Armes .

Trax ▪

From whence this sudden fear ?

1 Mess. Stand to your Guard , my Lord , the danger 's near : From every quarter Crowds of People meet , And leaving Houses empty , fill the street . Ex. Mess. Trax. Fond Queen , thy fruitless tears a while defer . Rise , we must join again — Not speak nor stir ! I hear the Peoples Voice like Winds that roar , When they pursue the flying Waves to shore . 〈…〉 Enter second Messenger . 2 Mess. Prepare to fight ▪ my Lord ; the Banisht Queen , With old Garrucca , in the streets are seen . Trax. We must go meet them e ▪ er it be too late ; Yet , Madam , rise , have you no sence of fate . Enter third Messenger . 3 Mess. King Montezuma their Lord shouts Proclaim , The City rings with their new Sovereign's Name ; The banish'd Queen declares he is her Son , And to his succour all the people run . Zempoalla rises . Zemp. Can this be true ? O Love ! O Fate ! have I Thus doated on my mortal Enemy . Trax. To my new Prince I thus my homage pay ; Your Reign is short , young King . Zemp. Traxalla , stay — 'T is to my hand that he must owe his fate , I will revenge at once my love and hate . She sets a Dagger to Montezuma's Breast . Trax. Strike , strike , the conquering Enemy is near , My Guards are press'd while you detain me here . Zemp. Dye then , ungrateful , dye ; Amexia's Son Shall never triumph on Acacis Throne : Thy death must my unhappy flames remove ; Now where is thy defence — against my love ? She cuts the Cords , and gives him the Dagger . Trax.

Am I betrayed ?

He draws and thrusts at Montezuma , he puts it by and kills him . Mont. So may all Rebels dye : This end has Treason join'd with Cruelty . Zemp. Live thou whom I must love , and yet must hate ; She gave thee Life , who knows it brings her fate . Mont. Life is a trifle which I wou'd not take , But for Orazia's and her Father's sake : Now , Ynca , hate me , if thou canst ; for he Whom thou hast scorn'd will dye or rescue thee . As he goes to attacque the Guards with Traxalla's Sword , Enter Amexia , Garrucca , Indians , driving some of the other Party before them . Gar. He lives , ye Gods , he lives , great Queen , see here Your coming joys , and your departing fear . Amex. Wonder and joy so fast together flow , Their haste to pass has made their passage slow ; Like strugling Waters in a Vessel pent , Whose crowding drops choak up the narrow Vent . My Son . — She imbraces him . Mont. I am amaz'd , it cannot be That fate has such a joy in store for me . Amex.

Can I not gain belief , that this is true ?

Mont.

It is my fortune I suspect , not you .

Gar.

First ask him if he old Garrucca know .

Mont.

My honoured Father , let me fall thus low .

Gar. Forbear , great Prince , 't is I must pay to you That adoration , as my Sovereign's due : For from my humble Race you did not spring , You are the Issue of our Murthered King , Sent by that Traytor to his blest abode , Whom to be made a King , he made a God : The story is too full of fate to tell , Or what strange fortune our lost Queen befel . Amex. That sad relation longer time will crave ; I liv'd obscure , he bred you in a Cave , But kept the mighty secret from your Ear , Lest heat of blood to some strange course shou'd steer Your youth — Mont. I owe him all that now I am , He taught me first the noble thirst of fame , Shew'd me the baseness of unmanly fear , Till th' unlick'd Whelp I pluck'd from the rough Bear , And made the Ounce and Tyger give me way , While from their hungry Jaws I snatch'd the Prey : 'T was he that charg'd my young arms first with toils , And drest me glorious in my Salvage spoils . — Gar. You spent in shady Forest all the day , And joy'd returning to shew me the Prey . To tell the story , to describe the place , With all the pleasures of the boasted chase ; Till sit for arms , I reav'd you from your sport , To train your Youth in the Peruvian Court : I left you there , and ever since have been , The sad attendant of my exil'd Queen . Zemp. My fatal Dream comes to my memory ; That Lion whom I held in bonds was he , Amexia was the Dove that broke his Chains ; What now but Zempoalla's death remains ? Mont. Pardon , fair Princess , if I must delay My love a while , my gratitude to pay . Live , Zempoalla — free from dangers live , For present merits I past crimes forgive : Oh might she hope Orazia's Pardon too . — Orazia . I wou'd have none condemn'd for loving you ; In me her merit much her fault o'er powers , She sought my Life , but she preserv'd me yours . Amex. Taught by my own I pity her estate , And wish her penitence , but not her fate . Ynca . I wou'd not be the last to bid her live ; Kings best revenge their wrongs when they forgive . Zemp. I cannot yet forget what I have been , Wou'd you give life to her that was a Queen : Must you then give , and must I take ; there 's yet One way , that 's by refusing to be great : You bid me live — bid me be wretched too , Think , think , what Pride unthron'd must undergo : Look on this youth , Amexia , look , and then Suppose him yours , and bid me live again ; A greater sweetness on these Lips there grows , Than breath shut out from a new folded Rose : What lovely charms on these cold Cheeks appear , Cou'd any one hate death and see it here ? But thou art gone — Mont. O that you wou'd believe , Acacis lives in me , and cease to grieve . Zemp Yes , I will cease to grieve , and cease to be , His Soul stays watching in his wound for me ; All that cou'd render Life desir'd is gone , Orazia has my Love , and you my Throne : And Death Acacis — yet I need not dye , You leave me Mistriss of my destiny ; In spight of Dreams how am I pleas'd to see , Heavens truth or falshood shou'd depend on me ; But I will help the Gods ; The greatest proof of Courage we can give , Is then to dye when we have to power live . Kills her self . Mont. How fatally that instrument of death Was hid — Amex.

She has expir'd her latest breath .

Mont.

But there lies one to whom all grief is due .

Orazia

None e'er was so unhappy and so true .

Mont.

Your Pardon , Royal Sir .

Ynca .

You have my Love .

Gives him Oraz. Amex.

The Gods , my Son , your happy choice approve .

Mont. Come , my Orazia , then , and pay with me , Leads her to Acacis . Some tears to poor Acacis memory ; So strange a fate for Men the Gods ordain Our clearest Sun shine shou'd be mixt with rain ; How equally our joys and sorrows move ! Death's fatal triumphs join'd with those of Love . Love Crowns the dead , and death Crowns him that lives , Each gains the Conquest which the other gives . Exeunt omnes .

EPILOGUE to the INDIAN QUEEN , Spoken by Montezuma . YOU see what Shifts we are inforc'd to try To help out Wit with some Variety ; Shows may be found that never yet were seen , 'T is hard to find such Wit as ne'er has been : You have seen all that this old World cou'd do , We therefore try the fortune of the new , And hope it is below your aim to hit At untaught Nature with your practis'd Wit : Our naked Indians then , when Wits appear , Wou'd as soon chuse to have the Spaniards here : 'T is true , y' have marks enough , the Plot , the Show , The Poet's Scenes , nay , more , the Painter's too ; If all this fail , considering the cost , 'T is a true Voyage to the Indies lost : But if you smile on all , then these designs , Like the imperfect Treasure of our Minds , 'T will pass for currant wheresoe'er they go , When to your bounteous hands their stamps they owe FINIS .

THE VESTAL VIRGIN , OR , THE Roman Ladies . A TRAGEDY . Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD .

LONDON , Printed for Henry Herringman , and are to be Sold by R. Bentley , J. Tonson , F. Saunders , and T. Bennet . M DC XCII .

Dramatis Personae . Emilius , A Roman Senator of great Quality . Sertorius , One that had been a General ; a brave Man , of a high Spirit . Sulpitius , His Brother , of a treacherous Nature . Mutius , One that had been a Lieutenant of a Province , a Lover of War . Artabaces , Prince of Armenia , driven from his Country by the Romans . Tiridates , His younger Brother , Pris'ner at large in Rome , and kept as Hostage till his Brother came in . Caska , Servant to Sertorius . Corbulo , and four or five more Veterans . WOMEN . Hersilia , Daughter to Emilius . Verginia , Her Sister , the Vestal . Marcellina , Their Cousin .

SCENE ROME .

PROLOGUE . PRologues , like Forlorn-hopes , first face the Stage , Before the main Battalions do engage : Just so our Poet , doubtful of the day , Ventures his Prologue first , and next his Play . But stay , I fancy that I hear one call ; I 'll step but to the door , and tell you all . 'Troth 't is the Poet's Voice , now danger 's near ; He sends me back as his Commissioner , To treat that he might fairly march away , If you wou'd be content to have no Play . He offers fair : Shou'd it prove very bad , As like enough it will , you 'd wish you had : He has been wounded , proofs there need no more Than what you know , that he has writ before ; For sure none ever scap'd that ever writ ; There 's no being shot-free in the Wars of Wit : Poets by dangers like old Souldiers taught , Grow wise , and shun the fame which once they sought . But if he must proceed — Wou'd you wou'd tell him which of all the ways You like in Prologues , us'd to help out Plays . Some tell you stories of the former Age , And swear that Faction now undoes the Stage ; Sure such believe you 'll do as you are bid , And that you paid your money to be chid . Some craftier Poets at each other hit , Knowing grave Rudeness has been took for Wit ; This does a wretched dearth of Wit betray , When things of Kind on one another prey . Some Prologues are more modestly address'd , Just like Petitions , those he thinks are best ; For such a one he means that this shall be , And therefore humbly shews as you shall see .

THE VESTAL VIRGIN , OR , THE Roman Ladies .

ACT I. SCENE I. Enter Sertorius and Sulpitius . Sert.

NOT speak to her , nor see her !

Sulp.

But for a few days .

Sert.

A minute is too much .

Sulp.

Be but patient .

Sert.

And tamely wait upon my Rival's triumph .

Sul.

You do mistake .

Sert. So do you , to think a Roman Soul can be So mean to stoop to his own Victory ; Submitting to a Prince's empty Name , And tamely yield unto a vanquish'd Fame . Sulp. Your Passion tells you wrong ; 't is not that Prince , But 't is Hersilia sends you these Commands . Sert.

I care not whence they came , I like 'em not .

Sulp. You throw away your fury now as wildly , As Tempests waste their giddy violence . Sert. No matter , raging Storms grow loud and high When they are most oppos'd , and so will I. Sulp.

Am not I your Brother !

Sert. Is not Prince Tiridates , as you call him , Your bosom Friend ? Sulp. You are not jealous , are you , that his Friendship Makes me betray the trust you plac'd in me ? Sert. You shou'd have scrupled then to bring a Brother Such an unwelcome Message . Sulp.

Consult a little with your prudence .

Sert. Wisdom's too froward to let any find Trust in himself , or pleasure in his mind ; She takes by what she gives , her help destroys ; She shakes our Courage , and disturbs our joys ▪ Rashness allows unto the sudden sense All its own joys , and adds her Confidence . Sulp.

You have not patience but to hear the Circumstance .

Sert.

Well , well , what is 't ? quickly then .

Sulp.

'T is more than you deserve .

Sert.

Then keep it for your self .

Sulp. They properly belong to you , Since they were her Commands ; when she sent them She mingled trouble with her seeming Cruelty ▪ — Then sigh'd , and paus'd — then bid me tell you , Her Father was so kind to Tiridates , She cou'd no other way deny his Visits , But by forbidding yours for some few days , To give her self time to attempt some Friends , To try their interest to perswade her Father That she with freedom ▪ may be left to chuse Where inclination guides her . Sert.

Um'h.

Sulp.

Now , Sir , is the Circumstance so trivial ?

Sert.

But was this all she said ?

Sulp.

Was not this enough ?

Sert. As it may prove — You are sure Tiridates will be forbid too , — — Are you not ? — Sulp.

As I suppose .

Sert.

I will be sure of that , — or else —

Sulp. What need you question it ? in a few hours You will discover that you are abus'd , If there be foul play meant on any side . Sert.

That 's true , — but —

Sulp. Come trouble your self no more , but strictly Observe what she Commands . These starts are the Convulsions of weak Reason , When sits of Passion grow too strong upon you . We have all our haggard Passions , but none so wild Or so unman'd as yours ; — They may be tam'd and brought from their excess , And watch'd by Reason into gentleness . Sert. Without your Simile I will endeavour to endure it , — But — Sulp.

But what ?

Sert. I find a mutiny in all my Faculties , That will not yield to this Cessation ; My Tongue seems to consent without Commission ▪ But I 'll go wrangle with my self , And will obey her — if I can — Exit Sertorius . Sulp. Where must my wild beginnings find an end ? Nature and Friendship ; Brother too , and Friend ! Titles that grow in soils so rich and good , Whose Roots are spread in Honour and in Blood : Yet all those ties keep not their hold so fast , As to oppose unshaken but ▪ one blast Of Love's unruly storm ; great Trees fall so , Pulling up all about 'em where they grow . Enter Tiridates , runs to Sulpitius , and embraces him . Tir. O my Sulpitius , thou that canst prove Friend to the Rival of thy Brother's Love ; Have you yet spoke of me , and wou'd she hear ? 'T is not thy Friendship , but her Love I fear . Sulp.

I did not name you .

Tir. — Perhaps you did not dare . Methinks concern'd Physicians , in despair , Gaze on their Patients as you stare on me , And from their Skill sink to their Piety . Sulp.

I wish Hersilia had not nam'd you .

Tir.

You are my Friend .

Sulp. And therefore cou'd not like th' unwelcom Office That she has put upon me . Tir.

Cou'd you dislike what she commands !

Sulp. Yes , I do , or else I must repent My Love to you , and grow indifferent . Know , 't is the cruel fair Hersilia's pleasure You shou'd forbear to visit her , or if you meet her , To speak to her for some few days . He looks down as sad . Tir. Why shou'd Hersilia cruelly contrive Death for that Passion which she keeps alive ? But 't is a guilt to question or repine ; She acts like what she seems , something divine : For when Mankind their frailer passions show , Those Pow'rs above condemn that made them so . Sulp. I fear'd 't wou'd trouble you , for I can find A measure of your Sorrows by my Mind . Tir.

Did she not tell you why ?

Sulp. — That she refus'd , Though I still prest it to find out her end , More than became one that was less your Friend : At last continuing still importunate , She told me with a Smile , 't was not her hate , Nor love unto another was the cause , She seem'd to be so cruel in these Laws . Tir. When I lost my Brother — Brave Artabaces , whom I cou'd not call More Brother than a Friend : for he was all ▪ I did not think a Friendship cou'd express It self so great , to make his loss the less : But thine , my dear Sulpitius , is above The Rules and Measures of the strictest Love . You might have hop'd to see your Brother's joy , Sprung from those harsh commands which mine destroy . Sulp. My love unto Sertorius is not less , I wish his Gratitude , his Happiness , To pay great Marcellina all Love's scores , Whom every Roman but himself adores : Why do you droop ? fie , fie , do not give way To your encroaching Griefs ; hope and obey : In the mean time during your Banishment , In my best Love and Care rest confident ▪ I 'll weary her with Pray'rs , till I obtain Leave from her Lips to call you back again . Ter. My hopes are only rais'd by thy kind Charms , O let me always hold thee in my Arms. Embraoo . Enter Sertorius . Ser. I must go back and tell him 't is impossible . — Ha — twisted . — Sulp. How , my Brother ! — I must say something quickly ; but — what , — Brother — perhaps you wonder — Ser.

Yes , I do .

Sulp. I mean , to see my kindness at this time So great to Tiridates : but as a Friend , I cou'd not be exempt from pity . Sert.

What pity does he need ?

Sulp. It seems much more than you , In the severe Commands of fair Hersilia : He is for over banished ; no time nor hopes Allow'd to him : you are too generous To swell upon his sinking . Sert.

That I despise .

Sulp. Pray give me leave at least to shew That pity which a Friend ought to bestow : Perhaps the Reasons of a Friend may prove A Balm to cure the Wounds of hopeless Love . Goes to Tiridates . — I cou'd not stay a minute , Sir , — From telling you the happy News Which you may find writ in my Brother's looks . The fair and just Hersilia has pronounc'd His Banishment for ever . — Enter Hersilia and Marcellina . Ha , Hersilia ! what new Confusions croud upon me ? How near my Plots are to discovery ! I must out-face Fortune and Honesty , He steps to Sertorius hastily . Brother , give not Tiridates the advantage To seem more pleas'd than you in his Obedience . I 'll instantly attempt to serve you . Goes to Hersilia . — Madam , this unexpected Happiness Adds to the greatness of it . Hers. The coolness of the Evening , and these Walks , Invited out me and my Cousin , Not thinking to have met so much good Company As you , Prince Tiridates , and Sertorius . She curtsies to them , and they bow and stand still . — Ha — Marcellina , a word . Speaks aside with Marcellina . D' ye not observe what an unusual distance Prince Tiridates , and Sertorius keep ? Marc.

I both observe and wonder .

Hers. Peace , let 's be gone — We have almost tir'd our selves , Sir , And were just now returning home ▪ Sulp. Permit me , Madam , to receive the Honour Of waiting on you ; I have something to acquaint you with . Enter Servant . Ser. Madam , Your Sister the fair Verginia is just now Brought from the Vestals , and begs to see you . Hers. I long as much to look on her : They say she is much alter'd . — — This is strange , Marcellina . — Looks at Tiridates and Sertorius . Sulp. I will return presently ; till then be silent : To Sertorius . I wait upon you , Madam . Exeunt . Manent Tiridates and Sertorius ; they stare at one another ; at last Sertorius speaks . Sert. I hope you do not think that I forbore To speak my love and thoughts unto Hersilia , Because a Rival did look on . Tir.

Nor did that hinder me to own my Love .

Sert.

Your hopes upon her Father's friendship move .

Tir.

The greatness of my love is its own aid .

Sert. Some use of empty Titles might be made : There is a noise with Names of Princes brought ; Yet though her Father is with nothing caught , Those that have conquer'd Princes need not show Respect to Titles which they can bestow . Tir. Cou'd any Roman Sword find Victory , As soon as you can with your Vanity ; A Prince indeed might tremble then to hear , But now he smiles at what you 'd have him fear . Sert. O you shall see that I can keep my word , And shew no Roman e'er out-talk'd his Sword ; They draw and fight . To this a greater Quarrel yet I joyn , Hersilia's Cause , they equally are mine . Enter Sulpitius , runs in and parts them . Sulp. Hold , hold , hear me but speak : From what hid Cause does all this Fury break ? Sert. Love is our Cause which we resolve to trust To our own Swords , we 're sure that they are just . Tir. 'T is mean to wait for one to be deny'd , And to refer that which we may decide : Death is the certain Umpire that makes friends ; With him that dies Hersilia's trouble ends . Sert. Stand by , and since you wear the double tyes Of Friend and Brother , look with equal Eyes . Sulp. Must Hersilia thus Be sav'd from trouble by the loss of Fame ? Your Swords will wound her yet unspotted Name ; No drop of blood vou shed but will remain Upon her injur'd Innocence , a stain ; She will be equally oblig'd to hate The Victor's life ; the vanquish'd in his Fate . Sert. She 's cruel now ; if she her hate shou'd show When I am dead , 't is more than I shall know . Sulp. Suppose she never wou'd your loves requite , For what is 't then you wou'd pretend to fight ? 'T is vain to strive for Empire , that wou'd be Not gain'd , but rather lost by Victory . Sert. Yet without Conquest she is gain'd by none , And only can be overcome by one ; Both in Hersilia cannot happy prove , The Government is Monarchy in love . Tir. Sulpitius now your troubles shall have end , Left free to serve a Brother or a Friend : He that first falls , ( for one of us must dye ) Leaves you to t'other as his Legacy . Sert. All the disputes of love are judg'd by fate , And death makes room when life is grown too strait . Offers to fight . Sulp.

Hold , hear me a word !

Sert.

Pish.

Sulp. Of you I ask it , Tiridates , stay , And let your reason this rash action weigh . Tir. Love never waits on Reason but on chance ; But why shou'd you advise this temperance ? Bid me be cold , and bring the Fever too ; Hersilia sent the banishment by you . Sert. Ha , — Did my careful Brother bring you such news ? Tir.

Yes , and from Hersilia's cruel Lips .

Sert. I received just such another Message . Can you tell Brother which was the Copy and Original ? Sulp.

No.

Tir.

How !

Sert.

Whence came they then ?

Sulp.

From me .

Sert.

And your invention .

Sulp. Right . D' you think Hersilia's lov'd by you alone ? Had I perceiv'd it easie to be done , I wou'd have fool'd you both : Why d' you stare ? D' you wonder that I love , or that I dare A vow a Passion which both you proclaim ? I 'll be as loud as you in Love or Fame . Sert.

O Monster .

Sulp. See I am chang'd , of your opinion grown , Draws . Think Life and Love is useful but for one : We shall but hinder one another still ; agree Which is my Man , so Fate and Love for me . Sert. Brave Tiridates , This Villain 's baseness the first cause removes , And makes the quarrel Nature's , which was Love's : To me 't is just the title to resign , To let out his soul blood that will stain mine : Nor will I on the score of Rivals fight . And while I take my own injure your right : But as his Executioner I 'll prove , The Minister of Justice , not of Love . Sulp. Fight you by your own Rules , I 'll make the Laws For my own Sword , and Love shall be my Cause . Offers to fight . Tir. Hold , hold , Sertorius , No seeming cause can check or cousen Fame , Every thing will at last bear its own name ; You may stand by with justice and look on , Nature is your excuse , but I have none . Sert. Nature did never yet send an excuse In her own whispers , for her own abuse . Sulp. Come , come , we trisle ; let some lots decide Which of your Fates with mine shall first be try'd . Sert. Fortune has ever been too curst to me , To trust her with my hopes of Victory : But , Tiridates , now methinks we shew In our own Cause too quick , in Loves too slow : He that survives of us by love will be Entitled to revenge thy Treachery . Tir.

Thus I embrace the offer .

Offer to fight . Sulp. Not so fast , I will fight too , and will not fight the last : That mighty rate which nicely you assign Your love and honour , I have sixt on mine . Sert. My flesh trembles like shaking Earth , when prest By tempests that want room within her Breast : Through all my Veins there runs a boiling stood , And makes a thousand pulses in my blood . Tir. Stay , Sertorius , stay ; methinks we grow Too bold ; Hersilia's Sentence shou'd bestow Life , or give Death : we but like Rebels are , While with our Swords Hersilia's Pow'r we share . Come let us go like Friends in misery , And from our Judges Lips learn which shall dye . Sert. He does dissemble sure — 't is noble — Aside . Brave Prince , with your fair temper I am brought To reason , by a Rival's Friendship taught : Had you or I sunk under t'others hate , The living wou'd have pittied his hard fate . Though love condemns , our grief may be the same ; For death 's all one brought by a Sword or Flame : 'T were mean , if love had not the pow'r to shew That gen'rous grief which honour can bestow . They put up . Why shou'd the steps rais'd by our honour prove Too hard to be ascended by our love . Sulp. Good , very good ; d' ye think to couzen me ? You practise to dissemble scurvily . Tir.

All treachery dwells only in thy Breast .

Sulp. Pish , none are truly by themselves exprest ; He that seems Vertuous does but act a part , And shews not his own Nature , but his Art . Sert.

I can be tame no longer .

Draws and offers to run at him . Tir. — Sertorius , stay Our Friendship must not yet oblige this way . Sulp.

O does the mask fall off !

Sert.

Let us together then dispatch the Traytor .

Sulp. You dare not — — Your honours as my guard will stand ; You both scorn odds , and I a single hand . Sert.

Tortures seize thee . — Tiridates .

Makes a sign to him . Tir.

Enough .

Sulp.

I 'll follow too : O you need say no more .

Ser. How meanly we must part ! never before Honour and Love shew'd such strange properties , To keep all safe by being Enemies ; With their own niceness they themselves betray , And while they both Command they both obey . Exeunt at several doors .

ACT II. SCENE I. Enter Emilius , Hersilia , Marcellina , and Verginia vail'd . Emil. WElcome my sweet , my dear Verginia ; Off with this Cloud , in thy own brightness shine , And let my longing Eyes twist rayes with thine ; All my decaying joys grow warm , and bring A heat which thaws me into youth again . Ver.

Are you my Father , Sir ?

Emil. I am , sweet Innocence ; and richer in that title By Nature's gift , than he that by his fame Of his own Country gains a Father's name . Ver. Your Pardon , Sir , that I seem amaz'd , I never saw a Man before . Her . Pray , Sir , give us leave To have a little share in her enjoyment ; Dearest Sister , you look amaz'd or troubled . Embraces her . Ver. Pardon me , dear Sister , if you find Some small disturbance hang about my mind ; To be thus soon from a devotion brought , Not more by precept than by custom taught . Mar. Dear Cousin , so much kindness yet express As to take pleasure in our happiness . Ver. 'T were want of true Religion not to know Some joy in so much goodness which you shew . Emil My dear Verginia , I have found out a Man to make thee happy , Whose Vertues , and whose Fortunes shall contend Which are the greatest , both without an end . Ver.

What does my Father mean ?

Emil. Come , Verginia , Company troubles thee I see , Be not amaz'd ; I must be fond of thee , To wean thee from thy self , till thou sha't find No room but for content within thy mind . Exeunt . Manent Hersilia and Marcellina . Mar. How fair she is , how full of Innocence ! All true content dwells with unpractis'd sense . Her . O Marcellina ! Though Knowledge does beget both Joy and Love , Yet Vice and Sorrow too her issue prove ; Prest with the last the greatest numbers shew ; And the Worlds seeming mischief is to know . — Did you not wonder , Marcellina , At the strange distance that was kept so strictly By Tiridates and Sertorius ? Mar. I did , and was as much amaz'd as you ; I wish no mischief happen , for their looks Strove with a strange constraint . Her . Prince Tiridates too exprest the same — Whose gentle temper I have always seen , Like standing Water wearing still one face , That had no tides to move it from its place . Mar.

Can you guess the cause ?

Her .

Not in the least .

Mar. I need not ask , it is enough that they are Rivals , And both love you . Her . Such quarrels still my injury must prove ; Both may deserve , but cannot have my love ; Love cannot like the wind its help convey To fill two sails , though both are spread one way . Mar.

D' you love one of them ?

Her . Yes , but not Sertorius : Though freely I confess my love to thee ; Yet I forgive thy short return to me , Which seems to violate our Friendship 's Laws ; But his ingratitude pleads in thy cause ; Since the acknowledgment wou'd lay a blame On thy great Soul , or on thy cheeks a shame . Mar. Be not deceiv'd , Hersilia , I wou'd not make my self so guilty prove , And like a hidden sin disown my love . Her .

Thus his ingratitude the more is shown .

Mar. By his ingratitude confess your own : Where does the difference appear to be ? You cannot sigh for him , nor he for me . Her .

But you deserve much more than he can do .

Mar. He merits more than me , he merits you : Love pleads no cause for the unfortunate , Choice rules above our pow'r as much as fate : Love unrewarded may to Vertue grow , But love for love like a design may shew . Her . Sertorius my revenge not love invites , And that strict Friendship which our Souls unites : Must now our Soul's affections separate , And what you love 't is just that I shou'd hate . Mar. What friendship wou'd return my love denies , I dare not say I hate whom you despise . Enter Sulpitius . Her . Peace ; Sulpitius ; Let him not see disorder in our looks , I suspect him . — How amaz'd he seems ! Sulp. Help , Fortune , now , thou that hast always sent Thy willing aid to the most confident . — Madam — Her .

Sir .

Sulp. Perhaps your own amazement might be less , Cou'd I forbear my wonder to express . Her .

What wonder , Sir ?

Sulp. Some wonder must attend a sudden change , To see Prince Tiridates and Sertorius strange . So unlike Lovers now they did appear , That they both seem'd as if they never were . Her .

I know not what you mean .

Sulp. I wish 't were so , my troubles then might end , One is my Brother , t'other is my Friend : Yet to those titles there is nothing due , Since they so soon forget themselves and you . Her . You only fancy sure this strange neglect , They paid to me as much as I expect . Sul. I 'm sorry that my Passion renders me The severe judge of their inconstancy . Her .

Your Passion , Sir !

Sulp. Yes mine , so mingled with Eternity , It understood not what they seem'd to be . Mar. You speak too like a Rival now to prove An uncorrupted Judge in Pleas of love . Sul. If I confess the bonds in which I 'm ti'd , Fair Marcellina shou'd not seem to chide ; Since if the just Hersilia pitties me , I leave Sertorius to her love more free . Mar. In such mean paths as cous'ning States-men move , To walk to greatness , others tread to love : Both creep upon the strength of fawning lyes , And on Mens blasted fames attempt to rise . Sulp. This to me , Madam , that have always shewn A sorrow for your wrong ! Mar. I know of none , But those which I receive from your design ; The injury of Vertue must be mine . Sulp.

Vertue by truth receives no injury .

Her . Truth is ill carried by an Enemy ; I 'll do my self and them at least this right , To forbid you to come into my sight . O Marcellina , As going out . How hard it is my trouble to disguise , Though I believe not him , I must my Eyes . Exeunt . Manet Sulpitius . Sulp. What can this mean , perhaps they both agree ! To hide their trouble , and to cousen me ; 'T was dull and foolish to betray my flame , Designs that hit shou'd be as swift as aim . They shou'd go quicker off ; Powder not dry Does seldom hit , but makes the Fowl more shie . Enter Servant . O , Claudius , welcome . Ser.

Have you sped , Sir ?

Sulp. Indifferently ; but still thy merits Deserve more than I promis'd : Here , take this , And still continue constant to my wishes ; I shall need thy further help . Ser.

You shall not fail to have it , Sir .

Sulp. Meet me an hour hence Hard by the Flavian Bridge : fail not . Serv.

You need not , Sir , repeat commands to me .

Sulp. Thy rewards shall fall like show'rs upon thee . Ex. Serv. My plots fall short , like Darts which rash hands throw With an ill aim , and have too far to go ; Nor can I long discoveries prevent , I deal too much among the Innocent I Their tracks are not so soon discern'd that go Thorough soul paths , as theirs that tread in snow . Exit . Enter Sertorius and Caska . Sert.

When will Tiridates meet ?

Cask . Presently , Sir ; he promis'd to be there as soon as you . A little farther brings you to the place . Sert. He 's noble . Why shou'd it easier prove To agree more in Virtue than in Love ! Those that are Rivals in their Piety Are kind , yet all bow to one Deity : We both have but one Altar and one Flame , Our Honour , Love and Wishes are the same ; From those fair Springs true Friendship us'd to flow ; But from those Fountains now our Quarrels grow . Enter Mutius . Mut.

Noble Sertorius .

Sert.

You mean Sulpitius .

Mut.

I shou'd be glad to see him .

Sert.

Prethee look him .

Exit with Caska . Mut. What 's this ! I have been better entertain'd : My Sword has help'd this Man to Victory ; But now it seems there is no use of me : There may come yet a time — Enter five or six Veterans . 1. Brave Mutius . Mut. Mighty Plebeians , yours . 1. A hard time , Mutius . Mut. Easie enough for you , brave Veterans ; I take it you are not cloy'd with business . 2. Troth we have scarce business for our teeth . Mut. Draw 'em then ; Hunger is the worst kind of Tooth-ach . 1. We have been courted , Mutius , Speeches made to us , and call'd the Bulwarks of the Country ▪ Now we are slighted . Mut. Did you intend that for a Jest ? I hate a Souldier that is poor and witty ; Wit is the peace of every Man ; hang it , A Souldier should be blunt and mutinous . 1. We shou'd be hang'd then . Mut. Not if you 'd hang together , Puppies . O the brave days of Julius , when he flew The Roman Eagles at the stooping World , And dar'd it like a Lark ! 1. I , I , those were days . Mut. Peace is the rust of Minds ; brave Souls refine By great Examples , and with use they shine . I remember Pharsalia's dreadful Field , When the first Ranks came to so near a view , The Roman Souldiers all each other knew ; In vain the Generals gave their fierce Commands , The Eyes of both the Armies held their hands ; While Brothers gaze , and Fathers Sons behold , Nature in whispers her fond stories told ; Friends gaz'd on Friends , forgot they were to fight , And made a halt as shameful as a flight ; When Crastinus advanc'd before the rest , And struck his Pyle into a Roman Breast : As from one Cloud vast Tempests fill the Skies , So showres of Piles from his began to rise : Had not his great Example set us free , We had been robb'd of that day's Victory . 1. I Captain , our Emperour has shut up Janus's Gates , The World 's at peace now . Mut. Let him lull in 't , Till he forget the way how to Command ; 'T is a dark Lanthorn in a Prince's hand ; 'T is Peace that shines , while he in darkness lives , Hid by the light which he to others gives . The Gown-men now by cherish'd Vices thrive ; Virtue is starv'd , or hardly kept alive ; Mischief is fed , while out of Policy They keep some to betray , and some to lie . 1. No employment now for Souldiers . Mut. You are dull Blockheads when y' are out of pay ; The Souldiers Vices lie another way . D' ye think that Statesmens kindnesses proceed From any principles but their own need ? When they 'r afraid , they 'r wondrous good and free ; But when they 'r safe they have no memory . 1. The Great Men swallow all . Mut. Mankind upon each others ruines rise , Cowards maintain the brave , and Fools the wise : Honour and all Religion bears a price , But as the rates are set by Death and Vice . Enter Sulpitius . Sulp.

Brave Mutius , never more happily met .

Mut.

That 's well ; did you not meet Sertorius ?

Sulp

No , why d' ye ask ?

Mut. Nay nothing ; I thought he had been going to keep an Oracle , He practis'd to stare and swell strangely . Sulp. Let him swell and burst , it matters not . — Who are these , Mutius ? Mut.

Quiet Rogues ; they were brave Souldiers .

Sulp.

Have they lost their Spirits ?

Mut. I know not ; they are out of practice ; They have been bob'd ; They might be train'd again perhaps , and enter'd . Sulp.

This way a little , Mutius ; you are my Friend .

Mut. I wou'd cut any Man's throat That said the contrary . Sulp.

I must use your Sword , Mutius .

Mut.

Here it hangs ready , 't is almost rusty .

Sulp. Be not startled when I tell you 'T is against my Brother . Mut. Let it be against your Father , 'T is all one to me . Sulp.

The quarrel is Hersilia .

Mut. A Woman is the worst that cou'd be . Are you to fight who shall have her ? Sulp.

That she must only judge .

Mut. So then , shall we fight to make her sport ? A parcel of such Lovers Wou'd make excellent pastime in the Amphitheatre : I had an easier way with my Damsels ; Kind or cruel , they never scap'd me . Sulp.

Not if you cou'd come at 'em , Mutius .

Mut. If they were hid in Houses I made 'em bolt with Fire , And pitch'd my toils on all sides ready for 'em . Sulp. Ha — 1. Noble Mutius , farewel ; we 'll wait on you Another time . Sulp

Pray let your Friends stay a little .

Mut.

Stay , Gentlemen .

Sulp.

Fire a House , Mutius !

Mut. There 's no such way ; the coyest then Will leap into the next Man's Arms : I have been thank'd for saving them Out of the very Fire that I kindled . Sulp.

I hey may live to love Hersilia .

Seems troubled . Mut. If we kill 'em , 't is two to one however That you 'll ne'er have her . Sulp.

Dare these Men stick by us ?

Mut. Pay 'em well , and let the business Be wicked enough ; Then never fear 'em . Sulp.

They shall eat Gold .

Mut.

'Troth I believe they can digest it too .

Sulp. Thou hast put wild thoughts into my head : If I shou'd fail , she crowns their Victory ; Or if Prince Tiridates falls by me , I must live hated by her . You Pow'rs above , Let either Death or Life reward my Love . Mut. You are troubled , Sir : I did not talk To save the Fighting part : I wou'd serve you in your love Through greater dangers . Sulp. O Mutius , advise me something ; My blood and thoughts stand still within my Breast ; Reason's asleep , and torments seem at rest . Mut. Why I have told you my best stratagem ; If you get her Father's House but fir'd , Let us alone , we 'll help to quench it ; And in the hurry we may get your Mistress ; There 's no suspicion waits on such disorders . Sulp. Dear Mutuis , thou reviv'st my drooping Soul ; There is no other way left probable . Enter Claudius a Servant . See , Mutius , Fortune seconds thy advice , Here 's one may prove the Instrument — walk off . Claudius , welcome ; here I have been short in my Rewards . Gives him money Claud. You have been , Sir , too bountiful To my small services . Sulp. I have a business , if thou dar'st attempt it , Shall treble thy Rewards , and yet leave me thy debtor . Claud.

Name it , Sir , and think it done .

Sulp. Thou know'st How unsuccessful I am like to prove ; One Act of thine may help me to Hersilia , Then think what thy reward shall be . Claud.

Speak but the thing , Sir .

Sulp. Presently then in some convenient place Set fire on thy Master's House ; do not wonder , I 'll have those ready that shall quench it quickly ; And in the hurry , under pretence of help , Bring Hersilia forth at the East-gate , That looks towards the Tiber ; There I 'll wait for her ; and by my happiness Measure thy own Rewards . Claud.

Whither shall we fly , Sir ?

Sulp. Trouble not thy self , leave that to me : Dar'st thou do it ? Claud.

When wou'd you have it done , Sir ?

Sulp

Presently , before suspicion can have time to grow .

Claud.

I 'll do it , Sir ; be sure that you wait ready .

Sulp. Be gone about it , let me see it flame Before an hour 's expir'd : trust to me , And have no fears . Claud. I know an unfrequented room Fit for my purpose ; I 'll do it instantly : Expect me at the East-gate . Ex. Claud. Sulp. I will not fail . 'T is done , Mutius , 't is a fire already ; That Fellow is a Servant to Emilius , Whom I have made my Slave with Bribes ; He 's gone about it : Are your Friends prepar'd ? Mut.

Beyond sick Men , ready to dye for you .

Sulp. 'T is well , I 'll place you in your several stations That she may scape no way : Then if we can but carry off our plunder . Mut. Pish , the fire will have all the Enemies , We shall have none . Sulp.

Where shall our Rendezvouz be ?

Mut At my House of pleasure That stands upon the Tiber ; That will be least suspected , because I live Most in the City : besides , we have the River To help us to escape if need require . Sulp. No better place . — Gentlemen , Pray observe such orders as my Friend Mutius gives you . He shall have money to reward you Equal to all your services , and beyond modest wishes . 1 ▪ 2. Doubt us not , Sir , we will be punctual . Sulp. Come , Mutius ▪ as we go We will agree on the particulars : Justice has took away all my compassion ; And when their flames in cruel brightness shine , I 'll smile , since there was none that pittied mine . Exeunt . Enter Sertorius and Caska . Sert.

Have you plac'd the Horses where I appointed ?

Cask .

Yes , Sir .

Ser. I have but one thing more then to enjoyn thee ; If I shou'd fall by Tiridates Sword , Carry the News thy self unto Hersilia , And watch her as thou woud'st an Arrow shot , To see whether it hit or no. Cask .

To what purpose , Sir ?

Sert. If she had any pity for me living , Her sorrow for me dead , will shew it . Caska .

But how , Sir , shou'd I send you word ?

Sert. 'T is true , abundance travel through the Grave ; But there 's not one of all the multitude Will carry more than his own News about him : Why shou'd things so remote beget such strife Beyond our knowledge , and beyond our life ? Succession thus some to fond Joys betray , For whose vain hopes their ruine must make way . Enter Tiridates . Cask .

Prince Tiridates , Sir ,

Sert. O 't is well ; leave us now , Caska , And watch where I appointed : If Tiridates comes without me , Let him receive those helps that I shou'd have . Cask .

This is a cruel Service , Sir .

Sert.

Dispute it not

Exit Caska . Tir. Your pardon , Sertorius , that I seem'd thus slow . I was enforced to make some little stay To 'scape Sulpitius ▪ he and Mutius Were earnest in Discourse . Sert. May be they are looking us ; Mutius is bold , Nor is that base Sulpitius less than he ; And thus much , Tiridates , I 'll acknowledge , Had they now met us with their Swords about 'em ▪ I shou'd with much more pleasure as your Friend Have took my share against 'em . Draws . Tir. Assisted by Sertorius , I shou'd have been . As sure of Conquest , as he is now of Victory . Draws . I have one motion only left to make , He that survives let him go tell Hersilia That though his Rival in the fatal Strife Was lost in Death , yet Love out-liv'd his Life . Sert. I will be just to you ; but if I fall , Carry no news of Love ▪ nor me at all ; For ▪ I have thought upon 't , and find it vain , To me no Message can come back again . — So to our Fortunes ▪ Fight . Enter Caska hastily . Cask .

Hold , hold , as you have Honour , hold .

Sert.

Ha , Caska What tempts thee to this Folly ?

Cask . The saddest Spectacle that ever was : Emilius's House seems almost wrapt in Flame ; The noise of people , and the Fire encrease . Sert.

Take heed you do not play the Fool.

Cask . Go but to the place where you appointed me to wait , And if it be not true , cut me to pieces : While you doubt , You but delay to help Hersilia . Tir.

Can this be true !

Cask .

Or I am more a Villain than I was us'd to be .

Sert. We may believe him . Come , Tiridates , Hersilia's Danger now our Quarrel ends , And when she is unsafe , we must be Friends : Our Actions some fantastick Planet guides , Ill Fortune can unite whom Good divides . Exeunt .

ACT III. SCENE I. The Scene appears a Burning-house . Enter ▪ Artabaces . Artab . WHat Noise is this ! — How ! — Noise . A House in Flames ! where e'er I go , I see Ruines of several Natures wait on me . — Hark , they cry for help — Noise of help . 'T were pity to devote my self to Flames , To save I know not who ; what need I care ? He that is wretched has a Life to spare ; Fate shall not need look after me , I 'll try Which is most careless grown , Fortune , or I. Exit , as into the House . Enter Mutius , and two Souldiers . Mut. No stirring yet ? 1 Sould. Not as we can see . Mut. They are not sindg'd yet : Nor do I gaze with such a Gust of Joy , As Pyrrhus had to look on burning Troy : That this might grow to be Rome's funeral Flame , And in its Ashes bury its own Name . 2 Sould. Shall we go to th' other side ? Mut. We 'll keep our motions in this compass . 1 S. How shou'd we know the right Lady , Mutius ? Mut. Troth 't was high time to ask ; Yet to say truth , I scarcely know my self ; But that we may be sure not to mistake , Catch up every thing that looks but like a Woman . Come softly this way . Exeunt . Enter Artabaces with Verginia , vail'd , and in a swoon . Art. Here 's something yet , she was well findg'd , And had been over-roasted presently . Sets her down . — Now let me see my purchace . — — Ha , — my Eyes dazle as if they star'd on Sun-shine . — I 'll wipe 'em , and then look again ; Her Eyes are clos'd ; and though with her 't is Night , Her Beauty shines without the help of Light : A darker Form has hid a Deity , But Death's too near for Immortality . I 'll bow her gently ; Nature begins to triumph in the Strife , And through her Lips soft Whispers steal of Life . How fresh they shew , the Roses almost gone For want of air , by Breath seem newly blown . Ver. — Ha , — where am I ? Hersilia , Sister , Hersilia , — Ha , — who are you ? Are you not my Father ? Art.

No , by no means , fair Creature .

Ver.

Are you not a Man ?

Art.

That 's an odd question — yes . —

Ver.

You shou'd be then my Father .

Art.

That 's right , a man indeed shou'd be her Father .

Aside . Ver.

Or is there any other man besides my Father ?

Art.

She 's mad , over-heated with the Fire .

Ver. Pray pardon my want of knowledge , I never saw a man besides my Father , Till I saw you , if you be one . Art. This is the likeliest thing to be a Virgin That e'er I met with . Aside — Where have you liv'd , to be so ignorant ? Ver. Among the Vestal Virgins from an Infant , And help'd to keep the Sacred Fire alive . Art. O that my Flame , as pure as those , might be Fed by your pity , though not piety ! Ver. Help me but back again , and I 'll attend With true Devotion those pure Flames you send . Art. From Ignorance alas her pity grows , Her Innocence above a Vertue shews . Ver. I had forgot , my Father and my Sister May want the help that you ill plac'd in me . O pity , there 's rather my misery ; Their Merits and Rewards far exceed mine . Art.

Rewards cou'd never yet my Soul incline .

Ver.

I can invite you then no other way .

Art.

Command me to my Death , and I obey .

Ver.

Sure all Mankind are not thus vertuous too .

Art.

All Womankind do less resemble you .

Ver. Hark , a Noise again ; O my Father ! Noise . Gentle Sir , that gen'rous pity shew , Which those above gave you but to bestow . Weeps . Art. Dry up your Tears , fair Innocence ; I only beg , if I return , That I may find you in this place again . Ver. Here you shall find me sending up my Pray'rs For your Success and Happiness . Art.

I had forgot to ask your Name .

Bows , and as going . Ver. Verginia , Sir , my Father's Name 's Emilius , You never ask'd me that . Art. Nor never shou'd ; I have your word to stay just in this place . Ver.

You need not doubt ; I know not where to go .

Art. 'T is all I ask for my Reward ; Think , bright Verginia , all your Cares are mine . Fortune has play'd her Tricks , now Love play thine . Exit , as into the Burning-house . Manet Verginia . Ver. Does Heaven on all Mankind such good bestow ? My Fortune 's excellent , or they are so : I grow strangely concern'd , some unknown Cause A secret warmth into my Bosom draws ; I blush , I know not why ; my confus'd Sense Whispers , that Shame can live with Innocence ; Mind 's like smooth Paper never writ upon , When folded up , by some Impression , Marks will remain it never had before , And ne'er return to former smoothness more . Enter Mutius , and three or four . Mut. No news yet of Sulpitius ! — The Women are all burnt , I hope . — Ha , here 's one yet left , a very fair one too . — Come , Lady , you must along with me . Ver.

What are you ?

Mut.

Why , men .

Ver.

You wou'd not be thus rude then .

Mut. Who the Devil shou'd be rude , if men shou'd not ? Away with her , and stay for me Under the Grove I told you of . I . Come along . Ver. Whither ? why d' ye pull me ? Alas , you 'll frighten me . Mut. She 's wond'rous fair . — Away with her . I hope this is not Hersilia . — Aside . Then 't is fair play : Equal Danger , equal Plunder . Ver. Pray do not pull me , I promis'd to stay here Till a Friend come ; I must not break my word . Mut.

Indeed you must . — Away with her .

Ver. What d' ye mean . O my heart fails me . — Oh. Swoons . Mut. Up with her , she 'll wake with jogging : Stay where I told you ; I 'll see a little farther , And then come to you . Exeunt . Enter Sulpitius and Hersilia , with Claudius and others . Sulp. Follow still behind , and give me notice If any overtakes us : Is Cinna gone to Mutius ? 1. Yes , Sir . Her . Whither d' you carry me ? I do command you let me go . Sulp. When we are a little farther , Free from the Danger that concerns your Honour , I will obey you ; till then , believe it was your Service , That made me throw my self into this Danger . Her .

This is strange , I mistrust something .

Sulp. You might if you knew all I know ; Pray ask no Questions in this place . All is unsafe about us . Exeunt . Enter Sertorius , bringing out Marcellina out of the fire . Mar. Set down your wretched load , for I am grown Your burthen , that only wou'd have been my own ; Had you preserv'd Hersilia , you had prov'd Happy to save the person we both lov'd ; But now you are as much unfortunate To save a wretched thing whom we both hate . He stands amaz'd . Sert. Forgive the mixture which in me appears ; Wrong not my joys , nor yet condemn my fears . Mar. Why do you stay , look on those shining Walls , And think that from those flames Hersilia calls . Sert. O what a wonder does your Friendship prove ! Forgives ingratitude , and urges love . — I know not what to do . Mar. — Go , go , And pay what you to Love and Honour owe. Sert. Then I must stay ; for there is nothing due From Love or Honour justly but to you . Mar. All debts to me , to her I thus resign ; Be gone , and think Hersilia's danger 's mine . Ser.

And leave you thus !

Mar. — If you stay here , Your formal gratitude will look like fear . Sert. It is my shame to stay , my shame to go ; Yet not my Virtue , but yours makes it so : If in these flames I meet my death , they 'll prove As gentle , but more just than those of love . Exit as into the House . Mar. — What shall I do , my thoughts are tir'd , I find , With tedious Journeys up and down my mind ; Sometimes they lose their way , sometimes as slow , Like Beasts o'er-loaded , heavily they move , Prest by the weight of sorrow and of love . Enter Artabaces . Art. So much for this ; I 'll have no more of these siery trials , My hair stinks like new burn'd Tinder : See , she has kept her word . — Best Lady . Mar.

Sir .

Art.

'Slife , 't is not she .

Mar.

You seem concern'd at some mistake .

Art. A little , Madam ; it was my good fortune To save a Lady from these flames , That I expected here : 't was her Commands That sent me back , to see what help Her Father and her Sister might have need of . Mar.

She was not tall , Sir .

Art. No , Madam , her beauty and her stature Shew'd her very young . Mar. You are happy , Sir , to be the fortunate preserver Of so much Innocence and Beauty . Art. D' you know her , Madam ? or to whom This wretched House did once belong ? Mar. She was my Cousin , Sir , and that was once Her Father's Palace : you seem a stranger by these questions . Art. I am , Madam , and but arriv'd this minute : The first thing I almost saw , at least took notice of , Was this sad Spectacle . Mar ▪

Is all consum'd ?

Art. Every one now is 'scapt or perisht , And need no help , or else are past it : The last I met with was a noble Gentleman , Concern'd it seems above the thought of danger ; For he appear'd careless of cracking beams , And uncheck'd flames : A sudden noise Without the House call'd him away . Mar.

O Sertorius ! which way , Sir , was the noise ?

Art.

'T was on the other side .

Mar. That way Sertorius went , and I must follow . — Pardon my disturbance , Sir — yet — — Reason and Honour check my haste — But our unsteady actions cannot be Manag'd by rules of strict Philosophy ; There is but part belongs unto our care ; Fortune has right , and title to a share . Exit . Manet Artabaces . Art. Shou'd Fortune count with me unto this day , She 'd find there was a mighty debt to pay ; The Roman Conquest o'er my Country spread , My Brother lost , or worse , in Triumph led ; Sure such full Empires have no aim or guide , And those that reach 'em do not move but slide . Man is too weak to manage with frail sense , Such a resemblance of Omnipotence . A Storm at Sea threw me on Italy , And here I thought to find my death or thee : Poor Tiridates , — how cou'd fortune prove , So curst among my woes to mingle love ! Which way to go I know not , nor need care ; I have been us'd to wander in despair . All by uncertain ways pursue their ends , And unto every object Reason bends . Exit . The Scene shuts . Enter Emilius , and Tiridates , and followers . Emil. You have sav'd my Life , brave Tiridates ; Wou'd I cou'd pay you with Hersilia , That wou'd appear more than a common gratitude . Tir. Hersilia is a happiness beyond My hopes and merits . Emil. This fire was kindled by some treachery ; I fear Hersilia is the purchace Of their designs and mischiefs . Tir. Let us not now waste time with vain conjectures ; Hersilia and Verginia may want help , While we are talking how they come to need it . Emil. 'T is true , let us take several ways , And meet down by the Tiber , hard by Numa's Grove . Tir. If I have life I 'll bring it thither . Ex. Emil. and followers . — What did I say ! how cou'd I talk Of carrying any longer life about me ! — But humane things have such variety , Neither the wise nor brave know when to die ; For neither justly can their deaths intend , Till they are sure all hopes have first their end . Enter Sertorius . Sert. — Ha — Tiridates ! He 's it seems no happier yet than I. Stay , — Sir , — what news ? Tir. None that either of us wish ; Hersilia is for certain forc'd away By unknown Persons . Sert.

So I have heard .

Tir. Emilius has took the great Flaminian way ; Let us divide our selves , — and when — Sert. Stay , Tiridates ; Fortune seems wise in bringing us together , She knows not what to do with both of us ; In the pursuit of Honour she can be Liberal to many in one Victory : When Fame 's the Mistress , more than one may prove Happy at once ; but 't is not so in Love . Tir. He that blind Fortune will have happy made , Let her guide him unto Hersilia's aid . Sert. She shall guide me no farther ; you and I Will not ask her Opinion which shall die ; Our Swords will tell us all that she can know ; Her means are quick , though she her self be slow . Draws . Tir. I draw for my defence , not my design ; Draws . You urge a wrong both to your Love and mine ; While your Revenge above your own does prove , And force my Honour to exceed my Love . Sert. 'T is only Love that does this quarrel breed , And so my Love my Honour does exceed . Tir. Wou'd Love attempt to ruine its own aid ? We fight for them by whom she is betray'd : Whoe'er o'ercomes , his guilty Conquest shews , Hersilia nothing to his Valour owes . Sert. 'T is true , — 'T is against her that I my Sword employ , And she may want that help which I destroy . — Forgive me , Sir : — Yet all things that can move , As well as I , have felt Revenge and Love ; Unruly heats are with our Essence spread , And by craz'd Passion Nature 's cemented . Tir. While she has Enemies let us be Friends , And now by several ways pursue our ends . Sert. Stay , I am yet confus'd ; 't is a hard fate To help to make my self unfortunate . Tir. We waste that time which takes too fast a slight , And 't is more guilt to talk than 't were to fight . Sert. How weak these wild distractions make me prove ! I am taught when to fight , and how to love ; Yet one thing more , if in your Breast you have No mix'd designs but what are clear and brave ; Let us engage , whoe'er is happy made , To find Hersilia first , and bring her aid , That he shall make no use of his success , Nor the least story of his Love express , Till first by our own Swords our cause is try'd ; It is too great for Fortune to decide . Tir. To keep this sacred here I freely vow ; You learn'd at first , but teach me Honour now . Sert. Till then let us embrace ; whoe'er Love guides Unto his bliss , for t'other Fate provides . Now to our Fortunes ; I 'll pursue the way Which leads through Numa's Grove . Tir. — But stay , Where shall we meet ? Sert. Under those stately ranks Of Cypress Trees that shade the Tiber's Banks , Near Mutius's House ; for still I apprehend That Man ; he 's Mischief's and my Brother's Friend . Tir.

Agreed ; — in equal hopes now both are tied .

Sert.

But when we meet our wishes must divide .

Exeunt . Enter Artabaces . Art. How ignorant of every thing I move ! I know not where I go , nor what I love : Yet though she 's gone , her Image still I find , And I pursue what she has left behind . Ah , my dear Brother , — poor Tiridates ! — Cast on these Shores I came to look out thee , And by my Bonds or Death to set thee free ; But into other Fetters I am thrown , Not by my honour but my Love put on . Quite tir'd I seem , like a hard-hunted Beast , That does not seem to go , but sinks to rest . Spent Nature's weight hangs heavy on my Eyes ; Sleep can cure Fevers , why not Miseries ? A Soul's disease can few Physicians find ; For Emp'ricks only practise on the mind : Yet sleep her Image might convey to me , And shew in Dreams what I must never see . Enter two of Mutius men with Verginia still in a swoon . 1. On , on , to the Tiber with her , And Sacrifice her to Neptune . 2. The Devil we will ; — what , Go twice as far as we need , To try to be apprehended for Murderers ! The next Ditch will serve . — Ha , — what 's here ! A dead man ! 'slife , a most excellent Companion for her ; If he be asleep let him wake and answer for 't ; Gently , gently ; so , lay her behind him . They lay her behind Artabaces . So , now to Mutius , and swear she was dead . 1. I , and cold too . Exeunt . Artabaces after a little time wakes . Art. Sure 't was that Beauty which appear'd so bright ; My Eyes by waking rob me of my sight ; When they were shut her Image did appear ; I star'd too boldly sure , and made her fear . Turns and sees her Ha! — look where she is ; alas , I do mistake ; For I dream still , and think I am awake : Some pitying Pow'r this Vision does bestow , And helps me to deceive my Sorrow so . She groans . What 's that ! my Senses sure are not my own ! Can empty Dreams and airy Visions groan ? Her Eyes begin to move and shine with life , Now sink again in Death's ungentle strife : In doubtful Weather , so the Sun resigns Sometimes his Light to Clouds , and sometimes shines . She lives again ; O cease your Cruelty , And she 'll by that Example pity me . She 〈◊〉 . Ver. Oh me ! Have I not slept too long , and am to blame , Neglecting to attend the Sacred Flame ? Art. Here is that Flame to which your Eyes did give Life first , and promis'd it should always live . Ver. Where are the Vestals then , or where am I ? Some confus'd Thoughts now shake my Memory ; I do remember I was seiz'd upon By some rude men ; I thought there had been none . Pray , who are you ? Art. — Alas , I have no Name , But that which is my Trouble , or my Shame . Ver. Sure both my Eyes and Ears deceive me now , Once I saw something look'd , and spoke like you : But by my fond Desires he was betray'd ; I ow'd him Life , which with his Death I pay'd . Weeps . Art. Those Flames you sent me to , have let me live , Perhaps reserv'd to dye by those you give . Ver. Pray do not wrong me , are you he indeed ? I feel some unknown Joys that do exceed The usual Measures of my Happiness ; I fear there may be guilt in the excess . Art. O do not fear that Pity e'er can prove A guilt in any , shou'd it grow to Love . Ver.

Pity is Love , and then it need not grow .

Art. In the World 's common Charity 't is so ; Such Love is only in Obedience shown To those above , the other is our own . Ver.

We shou'd deny our own Affections still .

Art. These Passions are all Strangers to the Will. When I first saw your Eyes , my Heart was free . Ver.

O that I cou'd restore your Liberty .

Art. That way there is no pity to be shown , Restore not mine , but try to lose your own . Ver. Will that strange way a Remedy procure ? Can a Disease in one , another cure ? Art. In Love's Disease neither their Cures obtain , But both grow well by one anothers pain . Ver. I know not what you mean , but I incline To think that your Misfortunes wou'd be mine . Art.

May I not dare to wish a little more ?

Ver. — Take heed , Our Wishes may be Faults when they exceed . Art. Do covetous men , or the ambitious find Their vast Desires by any bounds confin'd ? If pow'rful Nature lets no Passion move Within known limits , why alas shou'd Love ? Enter the two men of Mutius . 1. On , on ; we are dead men ; Look where she is alive too : O happy Chance . Ver.

Help , help , these are the Villains .

Art. Your business , Rascals . He steps before her . 1. That Woman is our business . Art.

You shall have her thus , Dogs .

Fight , kills one , the other runs , and as he pursues , Enter Mutius , and others behind him , and seize him . Art.

Unhand me , Slaves .

Ver.

O help .

Mut.

You call for that you need not .

Art.

Slaves , Dogs .

Mut. Ha , what 's this ? Tigellinus dead ! Thy Life for his is justly forfeited Offers to run at Artabaces , she steps between . Ver. O hold , I was the cause that stain'd his Innocence With that man's blood , for 't was in my Defence ; Besides , I 'm tir'd with Life , and fit to dye . Art. There 's none so weary of a Life as I ; Yet if you Romans wou'd be thought such men , Give me a Sword , and try to take it then . Mut. 'T is for her sake I do not punish thee . This Fellow is not to be trusted free ; Aside . Bring him along . Art.

— Slaves , I will not go .

Mut.

Drag him along .

Ver. — O , do not use him so . Alas , what d' you mean ? Mut. Why do I stay Thus trifling ? Madam , come , here lies our way . Bring him alive or dead . Exit . Ver. — Pray hold your hands . Good Sir , obey their Pow'r , or my Commands . Art. Come , lead me where you please ; how much above My Reason and my Courage is my Love ! Exeunt .

ACT IV. SCENE I. Enter Mutius and Verginia . Mut. STill weeping , Madam ? these are unkind Tears , Love is ill paid with Sorrow , or with Fears . Ver. If Love 's ill paid with Grief , it needs must be As ill exprest by signs of Cruelty . Mut. It is a Cruelty to my Soul exprest , Because I keep it Pris'ner in my Breast ? Ver. Not while 't is willing , but it wou'd be so Had it as much desire as I to go . Mut. Since Life and you in me bear equal sway , Be not less willing than my Life to stay . Ver. If Bondage only does express you kind , Why does the Stranger such harsh usage find ? Can you pretend that the same act should be Cruel to him , and yet so kind to me ? Mut. O my vex'd Soul ! how true my Fears do prove ! Love betrays me , and she betrays her Love . Aside . I 'll try her yet . — Shou'd I not seem to be In all things kind , to set this Stranger free ? Ver. Alas , what shall I say ! — I think you were , He offers all I wish , and all I fear . Aside . Mut. How brightly her betraying Blushes move , And seem a glorious Traytor to her Love ! Aside . Ver. Sure when he has his Freedom he 'll be gone . Aside . Shou'd I beg his that am deny'd my own ? Mut. You need not now your Pow'r or Tears employ , The Stranger does his Liberty enjoy . Ver.

But is he gone already ? Can it be ?

Mut.

What , are you troubled at his Liberty ?

Ver.

Did he not ask to see me ere he went ?

Mut.

He said not much : I know not what he meant .

Ver.

Perhaps you did refuse that small Request ?

Mut.

I cou'd not grant that which he ne'er exprest .

Ver. Why , did I owe my Safety to his aid ? O Kindness ill bestow'd , but worse repay'd ? Mut. Thou hast betray'd thy self , the Lover's part I 'll act henceforward with a Souldier's Heart . Ver. Alas , what do you mean ? What Tempests rise ? The gathering Storms lye rowling in your Eyes . Mut. I blush that I have been so calm and tame ; Conquests in Love and War are but the same ; Both reach'd by boldest hands , and Fools alone Thank Fate or you , for that which is their own . Ver.

Alas , what have I done ?

Mut. — How cou'd you be So foolish to think I had set him free ? I quickly found he was too fortunate : You may cheat those you love , not those you hate . Ver.

O be more gentle .

Mut.

— Yes , when you are kind .

Ver.

Storms hardly will teach Calmness to a Mind .

Mut. You rais'd the Storm which shall his ruin prove , And he shall owe his Fate unto your Love . Ver. Alas , 't is your suspicion does engage Your Fury thus ; this Object of your Rage I never saw , till from the Flames just now He brought me forth , and gave me Life to owe. Mut.

What Flames were those ?

Ver. — Those wretched Flames which burn'd My Father's House , and all to Ashes turn'd . Mut. O happy , Hersilia's Sister ! How the kind Fates still nearer Bonds provide , For me , and for Sulpitius to be ty'd . Ver. Are you not yet appeased ? Or can it be , That Gratitude shou'd cause such Jealousie ? Walks musing , she after him . In gentle Minds , Love takes the most delight ; Rough Natures urge not Passion , but affright . Mut. Come , dry those gentle Show'rs , for there will be No need of Tears , unless to pity me . Ver.

Will you no more appear in such a Rage ?

Mut. You need not fear the Storms you can asswage : Teach me by your Example , I shall prove The aptest Scholar , when I 'm taught by Love : — But I forget Sulpitius : — Who 's there ? — Here — Enter 1. Receive this Virgin with Respect and Care , Safely till I return , and let her be Obey'd by you that is ador'd by me . Exit . Ver. I find his Jealousie has told him true , And found my Love sooner than I cou'd do ; What shall I say ? which will the hardest prove , To hide my Hate , or to conceal my Love ? How can I practise what I never knew ? And appear false , that so I might be true ? And yet if they shou'd take his Life away — Will none of these as well as I betray ? Looks on the men . — Is your Captain gone , my Friend ? 1. A little way . Ver. When will he return ? 2. That 's uncertain . Ver. He was very kind to me ; You know it best , with whom he left Commands that were so civil . 2. Yes , I think he did . Ver. I do believe there was no need ; Your Natures wou'd have urg'd you to as much As I shall beg 2. What does she mean ? Ver. I have a small Request . 2. Well , what is 't ? Ver. Nay , do not ask me harshly ; A Kindness may be lessened by the manner . 2. What the Devil does she mean ? Ver. How ruggedly they look ? — Aside . Yet I shou'd take it well , nay , very kindly . 1. 'Slife , how she tempts ! — Aside . — Well , name it . Ver. 'T is only — If they shou'd deny me , Aside . I know you 'll think it but a small Request . 1. Well , let 's hear it . Ver. I wou'd see the Stranger that was taken with me , I have a little business with him . 1. We dare not do it . Ver. Your Captain said you shou'd obey me ; But I wou'd owe it to your Natures , Rather than his Commands . 2. 'T is impossible to deny her . Ver. Yet I wou'd be grateful too ; not to bribe , But to reward your gentle natures . 1. If we do not take the better care , She 'll make us think w' are honest too . 2. We can easily convince her . Ver. Why d' you delay ? pray make more haste to goodness ; Here , divide this between you . o●●exs money . 1. Do'st think we shall be able to deny her ? 2. 'T is impossible to deny her , and her money too ; Our Captain has a brave prize . Ver. Alas , I fear they will deny me : Are you not yet resolv'd ? — here , pray accept it . 1. Well , for once we 'll strain a point ; Come follow us , we 'll bring ye to him : But 't is two to one whether he 'll speak to you or no ; He 's as sullen as a new taken Eagle . Ver. I 'll venture that . 1. My Companion will guide you to the place ; Follow me slowly , for I must step before And prepare those that guard him . Ver. I thank you , may you find full rewards In the success of all your just desires : Exit . When shall the fears of minds concern'd grow less , I tremble now at my own wisht success : Courage in great distress can only aid , But fear of what shou'd help will be afraid . The Gods from passions might have made us free , Or gave us only those which best agree ; For such as mine a wretched mingle prove , The want of Courage , and excess of Love : They were not jealous sure that we might be By Vertue rais'd too near Divinity ; For since within their pow'r dwells all our breath , The distance is preserv'd enough by death . Exeunt . The Scene a solitary Room . Enter Artabaces out of it . Art. That I cou'd fly from every thought I have , And lie as senseless in my Life as Grave : I that had pow'r of thousand lives am thrown In bonds out of the Title to my own . Lies down . Why did the gods — Make us so fit for Vice and Misery ? In goodness their immortal Chequers lye ; They might have given our Souls better Estates , And set our Blessings at far cheaper rates . Enter one of those that went from Verginia , with another Comrade that had the keeping of Artabaces . 1. Come , come , here 's that will conquer Both thy Fears and Honesty . 2. If Mutius shou'd return . 1. Pish , he 's engag'd to look Sulpitius ; Besides , he bid us to obey what she desir'd . 2. Well , let 's go to him ; to toll thee true , I pity him ; 't is a brave Fellow . 1. I cou'd pity too ; but we are paid too well To be good-natur'd ; — prethee tell him That one desires to speak with him . 2. He 's horrible surly . — Sir , — D'hear , Sir ? there 's one without desires to speak with you . Art. 'T is a question whether I 'll speak with him or no. 2. You must needs . Art. I am busie , Rascals . 1. 'T is but a word , Sir . Art. I will not waste half a one , Slaves , for you . 2. Fetch her in Man ; he 'll ne'er be perswaded . Exit 1. Art What d' you stay for , gentle Sir ? D' you suppose your Company is pleasant ? 2. You 'll be made tamer . Art. Yes , thus Rascals . Starts up . 2. 'T were a just act to take away your Life , It troubles you . Art. Prethee do me but that curtesie , 〈◊〉 not , Lend me the Sword , and see how kind 〈◊〉 2. He does amaze me . Enter Verginia and 1. Ver. Hold , hold ; what 's this ? why a Sword drawn ? 2. This Madman wou'd provoke his death . Ver. Pray hold , you do mistake : — 〈◊〉 he not ; Sir ? 2. How he stares on her ! 1. And how his fury slides away — Sir — — The Lady — Sir — Art. Peace , Slaves . — I was co 〈…〉 . Stamps . 2. What , Sir ? Art.

That , Rascal .

〈◊〉 him ; the Fellow offers to draw . Ver. Pray hold ; here , take more ; pray hold : For my sake , Sir , be gentle . Art.

I have done .

Ver. Pray be gone ; you do disturb him . Exeunt . Why are your furious Eyes so fix'd on 〈◊〉 ? I do confess I caus'd your misery . Propose your own revenge , and my just nearst Against the Life it feeds , will take your part . Art. Alas , if your just heart so kind 〈◊〉 prove , To share in Griefs , teach it to share in Love . Ver. 'T is you must teach my 〈◊〉 what it shou'd do ; 'T is aptest to learn any thing from you . Art. Love 's hardly to be taught , 〈◊〉 to have ; 'T is strange you shou'd not know the thing you 〈◊〉 . Ver. Though what I gave per ha 〈…〉 not know ; Sure I shou'd understand what you 〈◊〉 ; Art. Fortune , alas , has 〈◊〉 all 〈◊〉 ; Love seldom is the gift of Misery . Ver.

You said Pity was Love .

Art. A common Pity does not Love express ; Pity is Love when grown into excess . Ver. If that be all , Love is not taught I see ; For before you cou'd speak 't was learn'd by me . Sure Nature's Laws are above Heaven 's got ; Love need not , though Religion must be taught . Art. O speak again ; the breath that tells your Love Approaches like the gentle Winds that move Over the tops of fragrant Flow'rs , and brings To the blest Sense their Souls upon their Wings . Vir. Alas , I have said something which I fear Had such a sound a Virgin shou'd not hear ; Art. O do not teach your Love a common way ; Love's power is small , unless it can betray . Ver. You 'll then confess y 'ave pow'r enough in me , If for your sake I 'm pleas'd with Treachery . But tales of Love make us forget our woes ; A sudden fear upon my spirit grows , Like People that tell tales of Ghosts at night , So long till they are talk'd into a fright . Art. Such phancies , from no real cause , will prove But Dreams , that hinder the repose of Love . Ver. You call my phancies dreams ; but if they are , All those must wake that do their dreams declare . Think I am sleeping when you see me sad , And when I wake I 'll tell what dreams I had . Enter Mutius suddenly . Mut. I cannot find Sulpitius ; all 's in an uproar . — Ha! — What sight is this , at which my stiffened hair Starts from their shaken roots ! I shou'd not stare So frightened , had I met every Ghost Started from Hell which Roman Conquests boast . Ver.

Ah me ! what storm is falling on us now ?

Art.

No Thunder dwells upon a humane brow .

Mut. Yes , you shall feel the Thunder that you slight : It shews more pow'r to ruine than to fright . Art.

Vain slighted Villain .

Ver. — Pray let me speak ; Perhaps he 'll least resist what is most weak : Pray be not angry ; did you not engage That I shou'd never see you in a rage ? Mut. You Pow'rs , what an ungrateful confidence This Woman hides with painted Innocence ! Art. Wou'dst thou have thanks for want of liberty ? Which way is gratitude grown due to thee ? Mut. While thou dost speak 't is with ingrateful breath , Which I cou'd stisle if I wou'd in death . Art.

Prethee then do . —

Ver. — Cannot my tears incline ? Will you provoke your ruine , perhaps mine ? Art. I 've done ; and though death's business I despise , Yet when you talk that it may close your Eyes , This too fond heart of mine , that did not fail At death in gross , shrinks now at the retail . Mut. Come , have ye done ? I long till I remove With him thy hopes , if not destroy thy love . Ver. Hold , hold , your passion guides you to mistake ; Alas , 't is the wrong life that you wou'd take . Mut. My just revenge is this way best express'd , To take that Life away which you love best . Ver. Yet hear me speak ; Had I no life to pay To Nature , wou'd you then take his away ? Mut. studies . How plain it is , if Death to him you give , The reason only is because I live ? Art Do not on my loath'd Life set such a rate ; It is unkind to plead for what I hate . Mut. One thing may save all yet ; If you will swear by all that you adore From hence , never to see each other more . Ver. What shall I do ? I fear that this may be An easie Oath for him , though not for me . Art.

— Then hear me swear .

Ver. Alas , I thought 't wou'd prove My fears wou'd be far truer than his love . Art. By all that 's good , thus , in this blest amaze , I wou'd for ever on this object gaze . Mut. They trifle with my rage . Without there , ho. Enter one or two . Here , Take 'em away . — Hold — be gone with her , but let him stay . — Now , Sir , Once more I ask you , will you swear ? You 'd best consult with wisdom , and with fear . Art. Let fear upon the prosp'rous hearts take hold , Cowards themselves in miseries grow bold . Mut.

Fortune , by me , now offers to be kind .

Art. And raise me on the ruines of my mind ; Though I am sunk , my honour keeps above . Mut.

'T is not thy Honour urges , but thy Love .

Art. Those are the same . Poor frighted men at Sea , To save their lives cast all their goods away . In storms of Fortune , where there is a strife Which shall be sav'd Man's Honour , or his Life , Who wou'd preserve this tottered Bark from fate , But sink the Vessel to preserve the freight ? Mut. I 'll shake thy stubborn Spirit , while I feed Thy Life with tortures , Death shall death exceed . Art. Life may be less than Life , as it does waste ; But Death cannot be more than death at last . Mut. Who 's there ? Enter one or two . — Here — Take him away , and shut him up from light , Let him see nothing but Death's Image , Night . Art. Thou canst not reach the light that I shall find ; A generous Soul is Sun-shine to the mind . Mut. Be gone , In the least title he that disobeys , His own neglect his wretched Life betrays . Ex. with Art . Manet Mutius . In what encrease of Tempests I am tost , Like those in storms afraid of any Coast : Now every way to me unsafe appears , Reason has left the Helm , and Love now steers : Yet one Trick more I am resolv'd to try ; Love's Wisdom is compos'd of Treachery . — Ho — Corbuio . Enter Corbulo . Cor.

Your pleasure , Sir ?

Mut. Fetch Verginia hither . And send Titus to spy abroad : And bring what News he can ; however Let him not stay , for I intend at his return , To look my self after Sulpitius . Cor.

I will , Sir .

Exit . Mut. This Fellow sits my humour ; Like Flies he feeds upon the foulest things , And to the rugged'st places fastest clings . — But — I forget my Business , I must now With all that 's gentle , smooth a rugged Brow , And tempt her with feign'd Goodness to believe ; The shape of Vertue still can best deceive . Those that in faithless Oceans take their way , Sink in the Storms , but 't is the Calms betray . Enter Corbulo with Verginia . She comes . — Now leave us , Corbulo , But stay within my call . Exit Corbulo . Still drown'd in Sorrow ? sure my Rage appears As just , and far more gentle than your Tears ; You fear the Storms , yet make the Tempests rise , While you retain soul Weather in your Eyes . Vir.

Tempests by Show'rs sometimes are laid to peace .

Mut.

And when you weep for me , my Storms will cease .

Ver. To shew my Gratitude , I shew my Fears , And poorly pay the Debt of Life with Tears ; Secure me only this , that he shall live , Or do not blame the Sorrow that you give . Mut. Does not feign'd Gratitude true Passion hide ? But since only by this it can be try'd , Here in a sacred Vow my self I tye , By me , nor by my means he shall not dye . Ver. Now you are gentle , And as in Tears I paid to him his due , Now with dry'd Eyes I 'll pay my thanks to you . Mut. Your Gratitude might find a better way , And my kind Vow with one as gentle pay : 'T is the same Oath which he has took before , To avoid ever seeing of him more . Ver. If he has swore , alas , what need I swear ? A Vow shou'd be as gentle as a Pray'r . Mut. Can Pray'rs to all alike so gentle be , Since all the World's Devotions disagree ? None beg the same , the Pray'rs of all the best Are little more than Curses for the rest . Enter Corbulo . — How now — Cor. Titus is return'd , Sir , and says , there is most noise By Numa's Grove ; another joyn'd to him To scout on either side , might bring you full Intelligence . Mut. No , I will go my self . — In the mean time Think , gentlest Maid , how little I deny ; Who ever you command , must live or dye . Ex. with Ver. — Corbulo , — Come back . — I have a Business that I dare commit Unto no Care but thine . — Give out that I am gone , And with a shew of pity offer Verginia , To bring her to the Stranger ; in the mean time , I 'll place my self to over-hear their Passions : The Business will be easie . Corb.

If 't were hard , it were all one to me .

Mut. Dispatch then , my brave Corbulo , And send Spurius along with Titus . Ex. Corbulo . I will search out the Secret of her Heart , And find that Passion which she hides with Art : May be 't was Charity that fear'd his harm , But Charity does seldom shew so warm . No , no , such deep Concerns appear above , All taught Affections , 't is unlessen'd Love : When this Disease of Jealousie can find A way to seize upon a crazy Mind ; Most things instead of help or giving ease , The Humour feed and turn to the Disease . Exit . Enter Marcellina . — Hark — I listen still for Noise to be my Guide , And want , yet have too much on every side . — O Sertorius ! — How I pursue , with what uncertainty ? Yet though I lose my way , I follow thee : Hurried along upon Love's Wings I move , Pursuing Fate , and am pursu'd by Love . Exit . Enter Sulpitius , with Hersilia and others . Sulp. Be pleas'd to pardon me , Madam , I was enforced to lead you a by-way , Something about ; we are nearer a place of safety now . Her . I wou'd not censure , but this seems to be A mingle between Force and Courtesie . Sulp. Since 't is so hard to gain your clear belief , I must be innocent , though it gives you Grief . Yet for your own sake do not wish to know , Time is too hasty , and my Tongue too slow : Why shou'd his Guilt and Mischief blemish me ? Yet Silence seems a vertuous Treachery . Her .

Why do you shew such struglings in your Breast ?

Sulp. Nature and Friendship are at a Contest ; Know then , I wou'd you cou'd , and I not tell , That Tiridates by Sertorius fell : You were the Quarrel , and for you they strove With equal Courage , and with equal Love ; Till Fortune blinder now than ever prov'd , And deny'd Victory to what you lov'd . Her .

Ha , Tiridates dead !

Weeps . Sulp. We have no time to talk , or to lament , Lest we meet Dangers which we shou'd prevent . Her . Alas , my Grief 's the greatest Dangers are : Who wou'd flye Death , that cannot flye Despair ? Sul. Sorrow deceives , that bids you stay and dye ; 'T is from Sertorius , not from Death you flye ; Whose Rage had blown it self to such a height , It stopp'd not at th' unhappy Princes Fate , But presently your Father's Palace blaz'd In circling Flames , which his Revenge had rais'd ; As if 't were just he shou'd the Ruine prove Of his own Hopes , that had destroy'd your Love . Her . Methinks my Love looks mean in Sorrow drest , Sure 't wou'd shew greater by Revenge exprest . Sulp. Though nothing of your Heart you will resign To me , let your Revenge at least be mine . Her . O , Tiridates ! I have condemn'd my self to dye , and grieve ; Revenge does only my short Life reprieve . Enter Sertorius . Ha , the horrid Monster comes ! you Pow'rs above , Revenge at once Death and an injur'd Love . Ser.

Have I o'er-took you Villain with your Prize ?

Draws . Sul.

There 's none is over-took but he that flies .

Her .

Defend me now , Sulpitius .

Sert. — Ha , does Hersilia want such aid ? O Heavens ! her Vertue 's lost , or she 's betray'd ; I will not trisle out my Cause with words . Her .

Let my Revenge and Wrongs assist your Sword .

Ser. What Riddle 's this ! she courts his Treachery ? Then through their Deaths I thus must haste to dye . Fights among 'em , and kills one . Enter Marcellina , takes up his Sword , and hurts another that is running at Sertorius ; he turns , and she and he fight , and Marcellina kills him , and then falls her self : In the mean time , Sulpitius and the rest wound Sertorius so , that they fall together . Her .

What , do I see ? Marcellina !

Mar.

Hersilia !

Sulp. Come , we must not stay , All is unsafe , and pity will betray . Sulpitius pulls her . Sert. Hear my last words , have so much Charity ; My Life was yours , but here 't is just I dye ; I feel new Fires , my ancient Flames appease , And I own Health unto a new Disease . Her . Do'st thou not shrink at thy approaching Fate ? Are all my Sorrows and his Blood no weight ? Ser.

What Sorrows do you wear ? Or what 's my Crime ?

Sul.

We trifle out our Safety with the Time .

Pull . Hersilia . Her .

Stay — let me tell him . —

Sulp.

— — 'T is in vain , away .

Sert.

That Villain does betray you .

Her . — — Hold , I will stay . . O , Marcellina ! O , Tiridates ! Sert. — — What is the mystery ? Why do you call on them from whom you fly ? Her .

What does he say ?

Sulp.

— — He raves , no matter what .

Her .

I 'll hear him speak .

Sulp.

— — Away , it is too late .

Hurries her out . Manet Sertorius and Marcellina . Ser. What can this mean ? — farewel my unjust Fires , New warmth grows in me , though my Life expires . How slow I crawl ? my Love would make more haste , But weakned Nature cannot move so fast . My sinking Soul this bleeding Current drowns ; How equal we are now in allout Wounds ; O speak , and tell me if you can forgive ; Or if that be too much , tell me yo●live . Mar. I wou'd deny you nothing ; shou'd I say I live , Life while I tell it steals away . Be not concern'd ; Death has the same event , By Nature call'd , or brought by accident . Sert. Do not so willingly your Life resign ; Or if you must , let your Soul go with mine . Mar. It will go softly , if it goes before , And wait for yours , where they shall part no more . Sert.

And shall we thus know one another there ?

Mar.

Else we shou'd want a Blessing we have here .

Sert. I feel Death ●shades creep upon Nature's light ; O guide your Hand to mine , 't is almost Night . Mar.

Here , where is yours ?

Sert.

— — Searching to find yours out .

Mar. Have it I now ? Weakness and Love may doubt . Hold fast , — farewel . — There 's something — hides . Dies . Sert.

'T is Death , that kindly thus it self divides .

Dies .

ACT. V. SCENE . I. Enter Artabaces . Art. WHY to our Bodies are the Gods more kind , Than to the Place where Worship dwells , the Mind ? Nature provides Defence , and yields Retreat From piercing Cold , and from the scorching Heat ; But for the Passions which about us wait , There is no means allow'd proportionate . Enter Corbulo . Cor.

Are you busie , Sir ?

Mutius over-hearing . Art

O wondrous busie .

Cor.

In what ?

Art. Why I was thinking that the World 's ill ballanc'd , More Knaves than honest Men. Cor.

An honest Man wou'd then be welcome sure .

Art.

Not to this place .

Cor.

To you , I hope .

Art.

Troth I have but little business for him .

Cor.

Do you not want a curtesie ?

Art.

Yes , and one to do it .

Cor.

Pray try me , Sir .

Art.

With all my heart ; — help me to a Sword .

Cor.

That 's hard .

Art.

So are most curtesies ; prethee do me an easie one ▪

Cor.

What 's that ?

Art.

Be gone , and leave me .

Cor. I wou'd first willingly do something for you , And wou'd help you to a Sword too ; But they are too suspitious at this time , Strict Spies are set on you ; Somewhat more liberty is allow'd the Lady . Art.

The Lady ! — ha — didst thou not say the Lady ?

Cor.

Yes , I did . — It takes .

Aside . Art. Cou'd you help me to speak with her , or see her , Though but for a book or two ? Cor.

Um'h.

Art.

That 's too hard too .

Cor.

No , I will do 't .

Art.

Are you sure of it ?

Cor.

Stay there a little , and you shall see .

Steps to Mutius . Art.

This Fellow sure has inclinations to be honest .

Cor.

'T is done ; watch there .

Comes back and Exit . Mut.

My best Corbulo .

Art. I have been thinking Why those above , so full of tenderness , Made ways so hard to good and happiness : Through Graves we travel to felicity ; The road unto Religion's misery . The ways might have been easier to find out , Not left so rugged , and so far about : To every object we submit our sense , And call our accidents their providence . There is no satisfaction here below , But such as Chance or strange extreams bestow : Secure Content can only be acquir'd By bruitish minds , or such which are inspir'd , Where Reason must not come , or can't encline , Sunk unto Beasts , or rais'd to be divine . Enter Corbulo with Verginia . Cor.

Then , Sir , now believe .

Exit . Art. H 'as don 't indeed . Just so when welcome light begins to rise , An unknown Comfort steals on troubled Eyes . Here let me kneel for ever in this place , And cling like Ivy to my first embrace . Ver. Alas , in sorrow shou'd we plant our Loves ! Prisons are barren Soils where nothing proves . Joys may spring up and make a little shew ; But fastning roots in prosperous places grow . Art. Love may , like Vertue , starve in full content : Misfortunes are their noblest punishment . Ver. If Love fares well , do not his Feasts betray , While Death stands ready to take all away : Let rather Art and Wisdom act their parts , And hide our Love from all things but our hearts . Art. Dull order takes from Love its edge and grace ; He stumbles in all steps but his own pace ; His sacred liberty is in Fetters tied , When Art or Wisdom his loose steps wou'd guide . Ver.

Perhaps there is a way to set you free .

Art.

Can I be so , and you want liberty ?

Ver. Do but at least comply with my design ; For here your Life 's in danger more than mine . Art. Without your sight my Life is less secure ; Those wounds you gave your Eyes can only cure ; No Balm in absence will effectual prove , Nature provides no Weapon-salve for Love . Ver. Might you but live a Pris'ner still with me , It were unkind to wish your liberty ; 'T is offer'd from my love , — and yet I find Sighs . You that deny to take it seem more kind . Enter Mutius hastily . Mut.

'T is I must bring you freedom at the last .

Draws . Ver.

O hold , remember what a Vow you past ,

Mut. It is thy falseness makes me call it back ; No Vows so strong but just revenge will crack . Ver.

Revenge will be no plea to those above .

Mut.

But they will hearken unto injur'd Love .

Art.

The gods will hear no business comes from thee .

Mut.

I 'll send you on my errand .

Ver. — Oh through me Guide your kind Sword : — Methinks your looks appear He pauses and studies . To me at least more gentle than they were . Mut. O yes , I am grown very tame , and now I think on 't better , I will keep my Vow . Ver.

The Gods reward what I can never pay .

Mut. Hold , hold , take all together when you pray ; For you shall see me take such wondrous care , That neither of you both shall need to swear . Ver.

What do you mean ?

Mut.

— Without there , ho , Corbulo .

Enter Corbulo . Art.

O treacherous Slave . —

Mut. — Yes , y' are in the right ; Since you were squeamish to forswear her sight , I will secure your Eyes without your Vow . Ver.

Oh Sir , by all —

Mut. — Nay , no dissembling now : Take him away , and on his charming sight With burning Irons fear eternal night . Cor.

How , burn out his Eyes !

Mut. Yes , burn out his Eyes . does Corbulo demur at Cruelties ? No more , be gone . Ver.

— O hold , he bids you stay .

Mut.

He stays to meet his death that dares delay .

Art. Farewel , fair Vestal ; By my Soul's Eyes your Image shall be seen ; And when 't is dark without , I 'll gaze within . Ver. O stay , I know you will relent , you must ; Need you be cruel , when you shou'd be just ? Preserve your Vow without your Cruelty ; And do not make your Sin your Piety . Exit with Artabaces . Mut. Begone , I 'll practise what you taught before . I 'll shew no pity , nor ask yours no more . Ver.

But you may want pity from those above .

Mut.

Not now , since they deny'd it in your Love .

Ver.

They 'll make me pay , if you will make me owe.

Mut. You are too cunning , and the gods too slow . Enter Corbulo . How now , is 't done ? Cor.

No.

Mut.

Ha! — the reason , Slave ?

Cor.

I think such horrid business was not in our bargain .

Mut. Pitiful Rascal , take that soft reward ; Strikes him . I 'll trust such tender Slaves no more . Exit Mutius . Cor.

Am I thus paid ?

Ver.

Alas , what does he mean to do ?

Cor.

Mischief , no doubt .

Ver. Look on my wrongs , or your own injury ; Revenge on him will prove pity to me . Cor. A blow ! this my reward ! — follow me ; I will do something , but I know not what . Ver. The gods wou'd think that I enough had paid , Were my Tears measur'd , or my Sorrows weigh'd . Exeunt . Enter Sulpitius with others , leading in Hersilla . Her . Hold , or you shall drag me on : There 's something in all this like treachery ; Sertorius now is dead , what need we fly ? — Leave me ; — You may be innocent if you obey . Sulp.

No , we have wander'd , you may lose your way .

Her .

Take heed left I suspect some ill design .

Sulp.

Suspicion will be more your fault than mine .

Her . I fear that I have shar'd his guilt , I find Poor Marcellina's Ghost walks in my mind . Enter Tiridates . Ha! — Tiridates ! — false Villain . Sulp. Pish , 't is his Ghost : Here lead her away To the appointed place ; hold , you two , stay . Her .

Help , Tiridates .

Exit with Hersilia . Tir.

Villain , look back , and see thy Death .

Sulp. Death is more us'd to obey me than you . — Dispatch him . Fight , Tiridates falls . — 'T is done ; come for Mutius's House , away . Exeunt . Tir. It will not be . Strives to rise . I bleed so fast that wither'd Life begins To fade away for want of Nature's Springs : And yet I feel no such decay of Love , Though Life and Passion from one Fountain move . — Hersilia , — Hersilia . — Swoons . Enter Artabaces with his Eyes out , and bound . Art. Where am I now ? I thought the way to death had been so broad , Though I were blind I cou'd not miss the road : Death's Lodgings such perpetual darkness have , And I seem nothing but a walking Grave . — Verginia , — I must never hope to see ; All Nature's Windows are shut up in me : The Sun to me brings an unuseful light ; About me now I always carry night . There 's yet one grief added to all my store , Never to see poor Tiridates more . Tir.

Who 's that names the unfortunate Tiridates ?

Art. What noise is this which sadly strikes my Ear ? A sound like Tiridates Voice I hear . Tir. 'T is yet his Voice ; were not my senses broke , I shou'd think too 't were Artabaces spoke . Art. 'T is Artabaces speaks , and seeks about For Tiridates . Tir. — Why d' you not find me out ? It is not dark . Art.

— Alas , 't is dark with me .

Tir. Here , here ; that I shou'd live once more to see My long-lost Brother ! 't will scarce shew like death In thy embraces to resign my breath . Art. O take me in thy arms for mine are ty'd ; If they were free I have no Eyes to guide . Tir. Assist me , my weak strength , but to unty Those Arms , to make my self a place to die . Unties him , and Artabaces sits down and takes him in his arms . Art. How dismally we meet like death and night ! My Arms are now thy strength , thy Eyes my sight . Tir. What hand or chance shut up those Eyes of thine ? While I enquire the cause death closes mine . Dies . Art. He sinks ; Tiridates , — Brother : His pulse is gone ; 'T is grown a dead low ebb with Lifes warm flood : How proper are my tears ? my Eyes weep blood . He 's gones before to rest , why must I stay ? Eyes that are wounds might weep a Life away : They drop too slow , Life will not at this rate Distil away ; I 'll seek a quicker fate . Starts up . Now I have hands , they will some death afford ; I had forgot to ask him for his Sword ; I 'll grope it out ; — 't is hard , I cannot find He creeps up and down for 't on 's knees . The means of death ; Fortune shou'd help the blind — O — I have it now . All steps of Life were going to this home ; But this does not bring Death , but shew 't is come . So Motion causes what it can't express ; 'T is the last Step declares the Weariness . One Thought for dear Verginia , — then — Enter Corbulo with Verginia . Cor. This way I 'm sure . — — Look where he stands : I dare not stay . Exit . Ver.

Heaven reward you .

Art.

Who 's there ?

Ver. — The horrid Deed is done ! — Look down on him you Pow'rs , with Pity too , That has no Eyes left to look up to you . Art. Who 's that which does too late the Gods implore ? A Musick like that Voice I 've heard before . Ver. That I were dumb . It is too much that I can speak and see ; Each Sense is but a sev'ral misery . Art. It is Verginia ; guide me where he stand , To leave my last Kiss on your sacred Hand . She comes to him , and gives him her Hand . Ver. O do not to despair your Soul resign ; Your Eyes have been my Guides , now see with mine . Art. 'T is Life , not you , that I forsake or flye ; I do but go before you when I dye . Ver. Hold , hold ; Give me your Sword , 't is fittest for me now ; I dare not use it , and you know not how . Art. In this condition I can use it best ; I need no Eyes to guide it to my Breast . Enter Mutius , and pauses a little . Ver. Hold , hold ; Oh Mutius comes ! Stand behind me ; Give me your useless Sword , for I can see . Art. Away , away ; those Pow'rs will send Supplies , And guide my Sword , that took away my Eyes . Mut. Fair Cous'ner , have I overtook you now ? With Justice , thus I break my slighted Vow . Runs at Artabaces ; he stands still , and catches the Hilt of Mutius's Sword as it passes through his Body , and kills him . Art. So I heard him fall ; — I think My Sword feels him now . — Is he — not — dead ? — Staggers and falls . Ver.

Are you not dying too ? O , let me know .

Art. Yes , all the while I liv'd , I have been so ; Time equal steps to Death , and Life does give ; And those that fear to dye , must fear to live : Death reconciles the World's and Nature's Strife , And is a part of Order and of Life . Ver.

'T is out of Order without Nature's call .

Art. It were the same if Accident paid all . We have no right in Time to come , no more Than we had Title to the Time before . Ver. Yet to my Life some pity shou'd be shown , ( Verginia's Life ) though you despise your own . Art. Reviving Comfort from that Name is sent ; And though my — fainting — Life — is almost spent , It baits upon your Name , and then — goes on ; But 't is so tir'd , it cannot — travel — long . Sinks . Ver.

Oh!

Starts up a little . Art. I cou'd have smil'd at loss of Life and Crowns , But at the loss of you — I dye — in Frowns . Dyes . Ver. Oh , do not leave me thus ; for pity stay A little . — 'T was but just now he went away ; I have not since had time to shed a Tear ; And yet the Distance does the same appear , As if h 'ad been a thousand years from me . Time takes no measure in Eternity . Weeps over him . Enter Hersilia , with the Fellow that went off with her . Clau. This is th' unhappy place , and there the wretched Object . — Now , your promis'd pardon . Her . Go , and live honest . — Exit . Oh my Tiridates , — speak but one word . Runs and kneels by him . He 's gone for ever ; — has he not left his Sword She rises . To help me after ? — Ha! — who 's that appears Sees Verginia . Like me in Griefs , so drown'd in hopeless Tears ? Ver. — Ha! — my Sister Hersilia ! She will prevent my Death , Unless I quickly counterfeit some way To deceive her , and my own Life betray . Her . 'T is she ; — Ah , poor Verginia ! — Who 's this who in his Blood thus weltring lies , Mourn'd like a Lover by thy tender Eyes ? Ver. 'T was one made me concern'd I know not how ; But all is past , for he is nothing now ; So we are told we must account the Dead ; And Tears are wasted when for nothing shed . Her . Alas , you do but think that you have lov'd : Just so when Heaven , by some trouble mov'd , Unto some tender place its Flames designs , It seems to burn , because the Lightning shines ; But when 't is gone , after its swift retreat , It 's left , like you , without a Flame or Heat . Do but look on , and see me take my leave Of my dead Love , and you must learn to grieve . She goes to kneel by her Love . Ver. 'T is Life that must to Griefs their being give ; And she that learns to grieve must learn to live . Goes to Artab . Come , — lend me your Sword , that I may find my Heart , It keeps me now from you : — Sure it will smart ; Tries the Point . — Yet — all 's but Death , — by Nature , — Sword , or Flame ; But we find choice in that which is the same ; And when the Gods our Life seem to deny , 'T is kind to let us chuse which way to dye . — Why d' ye hold your Sword so fast ? let go : Tries to get the Sword . This does not like your Love , but Courage shew . I have been told , and do believe it true , Love out-lives Death , which Courage needs not do . — Let go . Her . Stay — I had forgot to take my leave of her , She rises . 'T is just that Nature shou'd some share receive , Since she in Death for ever takes her leave . — Ha , — poor Girl , what art thou doing there ? Sees Ver. by Artab . Do not conceal thy Love , nor hide a Tear . Ver. Nothing indeed , I only look'd to see Why the Dead gave the Living misery ; I fanci'd Death some Horrour did express , It rather seems to promise quietness . Her . In Sorrows Death's securest payment lies , But Youth like thine , untouch'd with Miseries ; As if it hop'd to 'scape and never pay , Puts off the Creditor from day to day . Ver. In Grief the most ill husbandry's exprest , It makes us poor with paying Interest ; I 've heard some Romans at a chearful Feast , Invited Death to come and be a Guest : What wond'rous Act can you with Sorrow do , Not to be equall'd with a chearful Brow ? Her . You may be one day touch'd with Misery , Sorrow will teach you then to think of me : Farewel , Verginia , these for thee I shed , All my last Tears are due unto the Dead . She goes to Tiridates . Ver. O quickly now let go your Sword , — Unkind , Why do you make me stay so long behind ? Indeed I shall not find which way you went , Yet Arrows swiftest fly from Bows most bent . — Let go , — thank ye , — I cou'd afford to pay A thousand thanks ; but that I cannot stay , She gets the Sword . My Love 's in haste , yet not one Tear shall move , I will no more be childish in my love . — Hersilia , — Sister — She starts up . Her .

— Ha —

Ver. Pray see , you have good skill in Grief you say , Does any look in all this Face betray Sorrow within ? Can you the least descry ? See how I smile — and now — see how I dye . Kills her self . Her . Thou hast indeed deceived me , thy brave Fate I will not poorly praise , but imitate ; In every thing , I 'll fall as thou hast dy'd , And take my rest by my dead Lover's side . Kills her self . Enter Emilius with his Followers , bringing in Sulpitius . Emil. Come , Monster , shew me the place Of all thy Mischiefs and my Misery . Sulp.

By all these signs of Death , here it shou'd be .

Emil. Ha , Hersilia dead , and poor Verginia ! — Where shall my Griefs begin ! Death like a Frost on a too early Spring , Stole on thy Blossoms — Monster , come and see What heaps of Ruine thou hast rais'd for me . Sulp. Ruines for you ? Trifles : — there , gaze on mine ; — The love — Of forty thousand Fathers that can whine Their Sorrows out , make but a formal shew , Short of a Lover's Grief . Let me but go , And I will shew you why . Emil. Hold , keep him fast : What wou'dst thou do ? Sulp. Since all the Mischief's past , I might be trusted now — I wou'd dye there Between them two : Those Lovers lye too near , I fancy they enjoy each other , For all they are as cold as Cakes of Ice ; That I might dye but once , or kill him twice . Emil. One Wish be sure thou shalt obtain , for I Endure to live , only to see thee dye . Sulp. We are at last agreed it seems . — Come , — Lend me a Sword then . Emil. Monster , thou shalt bleed By Justice only . Sulp. O , I understand you , you mean Thrown down from the Tarpeian Rock ; if you shou'd see My Tumble , pray , do not leap after me : Troth it may spoil your whining . Emil. Stop his vile Breath , Till the Infection is remov'd by Death . Farewel , Hersilia , — and farewel , my sweet Verginia , I 'll first revenge your Deaths , and then I 'll dye ; So , though I take my leave , my Eyes are dry ; Sorrow for such a Loss too mean appears , Griefs were a Roman's Shame exprest in Tears . The World shall weep for me when ever Fame Does but relate the Vestal-Virgin's Name .

Just as the last Words were spoke , Mr. Lacy enter'd , and spoke the EPILOGVE . BY your leave , Gentlemen . — After a sad and dismal Tragedy , I do suppose that few expected me ; But when I saw things grow so Tragical , I thought the Poet wou'd have kill'd us all ; And craftily perhaps , so to prevent An Epilogue , when all his Wit was spent : Besides , having been once a Poet , it does breed A foolish Itch to see how others speed . Troth we Poets have had ill Success of late , But what you call our Faults , we call our Fate . I have rais'd a Scheme , and find that Poets are Damn'd with the Influence of the Blazing-Star . Here has been Rhime good store , and very fit , For well-made Noise sometimes has past for Wit. — ' I wou'd make you smile . — To see what confus'd Faces Poets make , This walks about , and cries 't will never take : There 's not one word of Mirth , nor Show , nor Dance ; A Man of Farce thought I might then advance ; For I had promis'd , and I think you know it , A proper Crown for the next dullest Poet. Your Judgment is desir'd , and pray be free , Whether this shall be Crown'd by You or Me.

Thus it was Acted the Comical way ; the Alteration beginning in ACT IV. towards the latter end , after these words ,

— And injur'd Love —

Sulp. Come , Madam , fly the sight of what you hate ; If he pursue us , stop him with his fate . Ser. She call'd me Monster , and implor'd their aid ; Hersilia or her Virtue is betray'd . Slaves , let me pass . 1. — Stop , or we 'll make you stay . Sert.

When 't is deny'd I use to force my way .

They sight , he kills one ; Marcellina enters and takes up his Sword and kills another ; the rest fly . Sert. How like a helping Deity you prove ! At once your pow'r has given Life and Love . Mar.

What Love , Sertorius ?

Sert. — That which was due Once to Hersilia , is now so to you . Mar. Take heed ; for though this Passion seems to be A gratitude , 't is still Inconstancy . Sert. If Love admits a change , though it does grow From Virtue , will the change a Vice still shew ? Mar. I fear it must ; for Constancy 's above All other Virtues that belong to Love . Sert. If Virtue meerly dwells in Constancy , By that strange Rule then all Mankind shou'd be Firm to the error which they first embrac'd ; For error is no more than Love ill plac'd . Mar. By this large rule , if ever you confess Your Love ill plac'd , 't is just to love me less : If Love to those that most oblige is due , Fortune disposes of your Love , not you . Sert. In Love's adventures Fortune busie shews ; But 't is not she , but you , the Love bestows . What diff'rence in this Argument is shewn , To shake my Love , and to confirm your own ! Mar.

Mine is the same , and never can be less .

Sert. Yours will enough secure my happiness . Come Fairest , let us thus pursue our Friends ; Where you begin to help , misfortune ends . Thus as you are appear a Deity , Like an arm'd Pallas crown'd with Victory . Exeunt .

In ACT V. the Alteration begins at these Words . Cor. Am I thus paid ! — Stay , Sir , If it must be done , I will not for a little squeamishness Lose my Rewards at last . Mut.

O , I thought you wou'd repent .

Ver. This is a strange Religion to be taught , To shew repentance but for one good thought . Mut.

Well then , you are resolv'd ?

Cor. I 'll do 't , Sir , as unconcern'd As you are to command it . Mut.

Take her away , and instantly about it .

Ver. The Gods wou'd think that I enough had paid , Were my Tears measur'd , or my Sorrows weigh'd . Exeunt . Enter a Veteran . Vet. Sir , Titus brings word , He saw Sulpitius , with a Woman , By Numa's Grove ; his haste shew'd some disorder . Mut. What luck is this , thus to be call'd away ! I wou'd have made a little longer stay ; But I 'll haste back . — It must not be delay'd ; For ought I know Sulpitius may want aid . No thought I have but comes clogg'd with a doubt : When ever busie Man does but step out From his own usual track , he does confer More power on Fortune than belong'd to her . Exit . The Scene opens , and Corbulo appears busie heating his Irons . Enter Mutius peeping . Mut. O , I am satisfi'd . — When thou hast done , My best Corbulo , turn him out alone , To wander up and down in his own night , And let him seek his way without his sight . Exit . Cor. He was jealous sure . Now to my business . Within there , Titus ; go fetch the Pris'ner , and then Enter Titus . Wait at the Gate that opens on the Tiber , And stir not till I call ; 't is Mutius's Orders . Tit.

— Well , we know it .

Exit . Titus goes out , and fetches in Artabaces . Cor.

Come , Sir , are you ready ?

Art.

For what ?

Cor.

For darkness .

Art. — Hadst thou said for death , T' had been more gentle : I 'll not waste my breath To ask for pity ; bless but my last sight , To let Verginia come and say , Good-night . Cor.

Time's precious .

Art. Mischief was ne'er so hasty but t' wou'd stay , If dying Men ask'd a short time to pray : So in the midst of all your Cruelties , Allow me this devotion of my Eyes . Cor.

Well , such a small Request I 'll not deny .

Art. Then I forgive thy former Treachery . Exit Corbulo . I 've copied fair Verginia's Eyes within ; Perhaps it wants a little finishing ; My last looks in my heart will perfect all , And make the Copy serve th' Original . Enter Corbulo with Verginia ; Corbulo goes to his Irons . Forgive me , Sacred Virgin , if my Eyes Begg'd their last looks might be your Legacies . Ver. What do you mean ! what is he doing there ? What horrid instruments does he prepare ? Art. Such as must rob me always of your sight , And without Death bring a perpetual night . — O do not weep ! — I seem to shrink under the load of fate , Not as 't is mine , but as it proves your weight . Ver. My fears for you as kind and grateful are , Lest in your suff'rings I shou'd want a share : My grief seems great for want of miseries ; I shou'd not weep if I might lose my Eyes . Art. O do not grieve ! see for your sake I 'll prove Injurious to my self , more to my Love : To make your sorrow prove the less for me , Know that you love your Country's Enemy , Th' unfortunate Armenian Prince , that strove Against all Roman Conquests but your Love . Ver. Love will admit no such concerns in me , Because y 'ave been my Country's Enemy ; Shou'd therefore my uninjur'd love decline ? I fear it hardly wou'd had you been mine . Art. Yet think my Love 's grown to a sad excess , When it s own greatness makes me wish yours less . Cor.

Come , are you ready ?

Art.

— Yes , for miseries .

Cor.

Here are hot Looking-Glasses for your Eyes .

Ver. Before your own let 'em true Mirrors stand , And shew how Death stays blushing in your hand . Cor.

My Irons cool .

Ver. — What gentleness they shew ! They from forc'd heats to cooler natures grow . Art. Fortune and Interest are disposers grown Of Men , they have no natures of their own . Fair Vestal , let your sacred hand receive This kiss as pure as they ; and when you find My Eyes are sunk in darkness , be so kind As but to tell me if it can be true , That I have only lost my Eyes , not you . Ver. My Eyes shall still be yours , when you have none ; But if you apprehend when yours are gone , Some other object may my heart encline , I 'll beg him if you will to burn out mine . Cor.

Come , I must stay no longer : — If you dare —

Art. Yes , exquisite Villain , I can stare On death in any shape . Cor. — Then gaze on this ; 'T will make brave Musick when you hear it hiss ; Puts his Irons in the water . What say you , does it sound unpleasantly ? Ver.

What does he mean ?

Cor. — I 'll tell you instantly : Stay , I must fetch another Instrument . Exit Corbulo . Art. His mischief varies only , not intent ; Unless he means a gentle death to give , That with my Life my torments may not live . Enter Corbuio with a Sword . Cor. See how you 're both mistaken ; Here , I bring you fate to give , and not to bear . Here , Sir , at once receive this Sword , and mine ; Thus to your Fortunes all my own I join . Art. I have seen sudden starts to mischief grow ; But turns to good are usually more slow . Cort. What , do you wonder at this change in me ! Needs Courage arm'd admit such Jealousie ? Follow me quickly , while the Coast is clear ; To stay or wonder wou'd be faults like fear . Art. Forgive me , Corbulo ; And since thou dost resolve to share in mine , My gratitude will make my Fortunes thine . — O my Verginia , — My joys like Men in crowds press out so fast , They stop by their own numbers and their haste . Ver. I fear Disease may this health pursue ; For sudden Fortune has relapses too . Art. Banish these fears ; against the Plagues of Fate , A Sword and Courage is a sure Receit . Exeunt . Enter Sulpitius with Claudius , bringing in Hersilia . Her . Stay , what d' you mean ? or whither shou'd we fly ? There 's something in all this like treachery : Take heed lest I suspect some ill design . Sul.

Suspition will be more your 〈◊〉 than mine .

Enter Tiridates . Her .

Ha , Tiridates ! O Villain !

Tir.

Look here , false Man , and see thy Death pursue .

Sul Death will as soon be sent from me as you . Hold her fast , Claudius , that she now-may see Whose one her Conquest proves by victory . Tir. 'T is brave thy Courage seems from Justice sent , To make thee stay and meet thy punishment . Sul. Is there a better or worse Cause in Love , Where all their Titles by their 〈◊〉 prove ? Love's Thrones by Conquest only are made good , Like Empire where there is no claim in Blood . Enter Mutius . Mut. How 's this ? Sulpitius , stay thy Sword , for thine Must ne'er engage without the help of mine . Sul Stay , Mutius , do not so injurious be , As to deprive my Love of Victory . Look on that Sun , whose power 's not less great , Since she as well disposes life and heat . Rob me not of my hopes while she stands by ; Love hovering seems to wait a Victory . Tir. Not all your Swords can so successful prove ; Though they may reach my Life , they can't her love . Mut. Dispatch him , Sir ; I have much more to say ; Though your Love does , mine will not brook delay . Sulp.

Thine , Mutius ! then Love has pow'r I see .

Her . Sulpitius , hold , or be my Enemy , Beyond the pow'r of Mercy to forgive . Mut. Come , come , we trisle , Sir , he must not live . — Ha! — Enter Artabaces , with Verginia and Corbulo . Art. Whate'er this soul Play means , Justice does guide , Where Mutius is , my Sword to t'other side . Sir , you seem to want . What Mist does rise ▪ Or has not Corbulo put out my Eyes , And I gaze on my Brother , as I use to do , Within my Mind ! Pray speak , Sir , Who are you ? Tir. Your happy Brother , dear Artabaces , And still the same in all things but my joy ; Fortune seems now grown weary to destroy . Mut

Ha! my Pris'ner by that treacherous Slave set free !

Art.

Why do you stare ? —

Mut. — O , it seems you can see . Look there , Sulpitius , nothing less divine Than that cou'd charm a Heart so rough as mine . These are our Rivals too ; just Fortune draws . Our Swords together in an equal Cause . Art. Now know , sierce Mutius , though no Cause can be So great as Love , to make an Enemy ; Yet to raise up thy Horrour to a height , Armenia's Prince is sent to bring thy Fate . Now thou shalt see where Conquest be thy due , And without numbers what thy Sword can do . Her . Sulpitius , hold ; obey me yet at last , And I 'll forgive all thy Offences past . Sulp. While I am arm'd , I never use to pray , And Love commands me now not to obey . Tir.

We trifle Time .

Art.

— Corbulo , that charge is thine .

Cor.

Kind Fate provides another Sword for mine .

Art. Now , idle Fortune , modestly stand by And let just Love dispose of Victory . They sight , Mutius falls , and Sulpitius stands staggering . Tir.

Now , Sulpitius , to whom 's Hersilia due ?

Sul. Wou'd she were so to any one but you . Use your Advantage to the Unfortunate ; Honour is cruel that denies a Fate . Must I fall thus , and in Hersilia's sight ? I stand to talk , that cannot go to fight . Falls . Tir. Sulpitius , live ; As thou wert once my Friend , my Friend still prove . Sulp. That Life thou giv'st is Death unto my Love . Hersilia , now I beg your Cruelty ; I want no help to live , but some to dye . Art. Brave Man ! I pity his ungentle Fate ; I wou'd have none that love Unfortunate . — Come , Tiridates , — How trembling after Victory we go , To pay Devotions which to Love we owe ! Fortune at last seems kind in her Designs , To bring our Victory before our Shrines . Tir. Ah , Brother , I am still unfortunate , Not less by Honour now , than once by Fate . Art.

What 's this !

Tir. Fairest Hersilia , can you pity me , Not for your own , but Honour's Cruelty ? I must not speak of Love ; yet though her Eyes Bind up my Tongue , I thus may use my Eyes . Art. Fair Vestal , Though Fortune now at last seems kind to me , Without you smile , 't is useless Victory . Ver. My joys must always wait on your Success , Since they take being from your Happiness . I beg now to return from whence I came ; And there while I attend the sacred Flame , My true Concerns for you shall never cease , And pray for yours , while I enjoy my peace . Art. Will you forsake me now , and be less kind , Than you once promis'd if I had been blind ? I had been happier then by Mistries : Now I lose you , that had but lost my Eyes . Ver. Then you did need my help now you are free : Does Love exceed the use of Charity ? Art. Yet let not Charity your Love exceed ; But grant me Alms as long as I have need . Ver. Alas , the World is full of Storms I find ; I wou'd return for shelter to my mind . Come , dear Hersilia , which way must we go ? Ah me ! why do you look upon me so ? At once I weep and tremble too ; my Tears Spring without Grief , and without cause my Fears . Enter Sertorius and Marcellina . Sert. Look , Marcellina , see what Heaven bestows , As a full Recompence of all your Woes . — Mar. Harsilia and Verginia ! Let me embrace you both , lest I shou'd wrong My Love , which else wou'd stay from one too long . Her . Dear Marcellina , Joy seems perfect now : Nor Love nor Fortune gives it without you . Tir. Sertorius ! — I now demand my Freedom from your Sword ; In spight of Torments I have kept my word , And silently endur'd my Miseries , Though all the while wrack'd by Hersilia's Eyes . Sert. To such strict Honour all Rewards are due ; All I once hop'd , I now resign to you . Here , fair Hersilia , may you as happy prove . In his , as I in Marcellina's Love . Tir. How all my Happiness together flows , If with Hersilia's Love your Friendship grows ! Her . If I deny , it wou'd ingrateful shew ; I give not Love , but pay you what I owe. Sert. How , Mutius and Sulpitius too ! Dead both together ! Sul. — No , wou'd it were true ; Mutius , you see , has better Luck than I , He 's quiet , past the sense of Misery . Sert.

By whom fell Mutius ?

Art. — By the Unfortunate ; One that came here to fetch , not bring a Fate : While Tiridates liv'd and was not free , I blush'd at my own Life and Liberty ; Hither I come , either or both to pay , But lost my Freedom by another way . 'T is I , Armenia's , wretched Prince whom yet Rome wants to make her Victory compleat : Let Tiridates live , and let me find But a swift Death , and Rome's as great as kind . Ter. Sertorius , if your Friendship can extend To love Rome's Enemy , because my Friend , No Conquest that you ever gain'd before , Can exceed this , or will become you more . Sert. Dear Tiridates , were he not to you So lov'd a Brother , to his worth were due All that you ask ; 't is more than Victory , Thus to embrace so brave an Enemy . Art. You Romans all the World sure must obey , Since you know how to Conquer every way . Tir. Permit me , fair Hersilia , to present Him whose dear Loss I did so long lament . Ver. If for my sake you can more Love bestow , My Life and Honour unto him I owe. Her . Either of these are tyes enough to prove Strict Bonds , not Motives to oblige my Love . Mar.

My Debts , Sir , and Hersilia's are the same .

Art. You oblige one has nothing but a Name . My Heart , though not o'ercome by Miseries , I lost a Conquest to Verginia's Eyes . While I was mis'rable , she did express Concerns like Love , but they are all grown less ; For she will now forsake the World and me . Good gods , give me again my misery . Dear Corbulo , repent , and make me blind ; For when I 'm wretched she 'll again be kind . Ver. What have I done , that you shou'd tempt your Fate . And beg the gods to be unfortunate ? Art.

Did you not say you wou'd forsake me now ?

Ver. To go to Heaven , do I fly from you ? There by my Pray'rs my Love will best be try'd ; You shall have more than all the World beside . Art. It is a strange Devotion takes away The Happiness for which it seems to pray . Enter Emilius , and others . Ver.

My Father !

Emil. — Ha , Hersilia and Verginia ! Does not the sondness of my Eyes betray ! O let me thus confirm my Happiness , Till my Embraces grow to weariness : My Joys encrease . Ha! Marcellina too ! All Comforts next to them are brought by you . And since Sertorius finds his Happiness In yours , to Tiridates I 'll express My promis'd Care , that he may happy prove , Like you in mine , and his Hersilia's love . Tir. Those Blessings that you give are such a store , I almost blush that I must ask you more . See , Sir , my long-lost Brother , that here brought His Life for mine , and his own Ruine sought : Our Country gave the Roman Victories , Its King 's now vanquish'd by a Roman's Eyes : Yet , Sir , your pity will like Justice shew , To pay a Love where she a Life does owe. Ver. I owe him , Sir , my Life , I do confess , And mean to pay him more than Love , not less : I wou'd return and see the World no more , And there for him unwearied Heaven implore . Emil. No , dear Verginia , such a Piety That robs me of thy sight , were guilt in thee . Nor need you fear , brave Prince , your own Success ; Our Gratitude enjoyns your Happiness . Art. Fair Vestal , since you must no more return To those , pity the Flames that in me burn . You shall for ever have a Vestal's Name , And like them always keep alive a Flame . Ver. Since 't is my Father's pleasure that I stay , 'T is you that make me willing to obey . Press me no more , till I by Time may prove In yours as well instructed as my Love . Art. That breath all my Misfortunes blows away ; The loss of Scepters Love can over-pay . Sert. Brave Sir , y 'ave lost no Crown ; for you shall find A Prince that loves the Conquest of the Mind ; The great Augustus , whose bright Nature brings More surer Conquest than his Sword , or Kings . Take up that wretched Man , that nothing may Hang heavy on the Joys of this bright Day : He 's still my Brother , and may yet repent ; A hopeless Love must be his punishment . How all our Joys are set in foils of Woes ! As after Darkness Light the brighter shews , So from our Sorrows all our Joys encrease , And unto Love Rome owes a Friend and Peace .

EPILOGUE Spoken by Mr Lacy , who is suppos'd to enter as intending to speak the Epilogue for the TRAGEDY . BY your leave , Gentlem — How ! what do I see ! How ! all alive ! Then there 's no use for me . 'Troth , I rejoice you are reviv'd agen ; And so farewel , good living Gentlemen . 1. Nay , Mr. Lacy. La. What wou'd you have with me ? I can't speak Epilogues ex tempore : The Poet has done craftily to day ; H 'as spoil'd my Epilogue , perhaps his Play ; H 'as cur'd 'em all ; a very pretty prank ! And from a Poet turn'd a Mountebank . Well , — If nothing pleases but Variety , I 'll turn Rageu into a Tragedy . When Lacy , like a whining Lover , dies , Though you hate Tragedies , 't will wet your Eyes . Letters of Marque are granted every where , And one Prize-Office is kept always here : All that are Phlegmatick are Enemies , Which makes Poets and Dutchmen certain Prize . All that I wish is that the Dutch may fight With as ill fortune as we Poets write . I thought to have spoke something of the Play ; But you 'll think what you please , whate'er I say . FINIS .

THE Great Favourite , OR , THE DUKE OF LERMA . A TRAGEDY . As it was Acted at the THEATRE-ROYAL , By His MAJESTY's Servants . Written by the Honourable Sir ROBERT HOWARD .

LONDON , Printed for Henry Herringman , and are to be Sold by R. Bentley , J. Tonson , F. Saunders , and T. Bennet . M DC XCII .

TO THE READER .

I Cannot plead the usual Excuse for Publishing this Trisle , which is commonly the Subject of most Prefaces , by charging it upon the Importunity of Friends ; for , I confess , I was my self willing , at the first Desire of Mr. Herringman , to Print it : not for any great Opinion that I had entertain'd , but for the Opinion that others were pleas'd to express ; which being told me by some Friends , I was concern'd to let the World judge what subject matter of Offence was contain'd in it : Some were pleas'd to believe , little of it mine : but they are both obliging to me , though perhaps not intentionally ; the last , by thinking there was any thing in it that was worth so ill design'd an Envy , as to place it to another Author : The others ( perhaps , the best bred Informers ) by continuing their Displeasures towards me , since I most gratefully acknowledge to have received some Advantage in the Opinion of the sober part of the World , by the loss of theirs .

For the Subject , I came accidentally to write upon it ; for a Gentleman brought a Play to the King's Company , call'd , The Duke of LERMA ; and by them I was desired to peruse it , and return my Opinion , whether I thought it fit for the Stage : After I had read it , I acquainted them , that in my Judgment it would not be of much Use for such a Design , since the Contrivance scarce would merit the Name of a Plot ; and some of that , assisted by a Disguise ; and it ended abruptly : and on the Person of Philip the IIIᵈ there was fix'd such a mean Character , and on the Daughter of the Duke of Lerma , such a vitious one , that I cou'd not but judge it unfit to be presented by any that had a Respect , not only to Princes , but indeed to either Man or Woman ; and about that time , being to go into the Country , I was perswaded by Mr. Hart to make it my Diversion there , that so great a Hint might not be lost , as the Duke of Lerma saving himself in his last Extremity , by his unexpected Disguise , which is as well in the true Story as the old Play ; and besides that and the Names , my altering the most part of the Characters , and the whole Design , made me uncapable to use much more ; though perhaps written with higher Stile and Thoughts , than I cou'd attain to .

I intend not to trouble my self nor the World any more in such Subjects , but take my leave of these my too long Acquaintances ; since that little Fancy and Liberty I once enjoy'd , is now fetter'd in Business of more unpleasant Natures ; yet were I free to apply my Thoughts as my own Choice directed them ; I should hardly again venture into the Civil Wars of Censures .

Ubi — Nullos habitura Triumphos .

In the next place , I must ingenuously confess , that the manner of Plays , which now are in most esteem , is beyond my power to perform ; nor do I condemn in the least any thing of what Nature soever that pleases ; since nothing cou'd appear to me a ruder Folly , than to censure the Satisfaction of others : I rather blame the unnecessary Understanding of some that have labour'd to give strict Rules to Things that are not Mathematical , and with such eagerness , pursuing their own seeming Reasons , that at last we are to apprehend such Argumentative Poets will grow as strict as Sancho Panco's Doctor was to our very Appetites ; for in the difference of Tragedy and Comedy , and of Farce it self , there can be no determination but by the Taste ; nor in the manner of their Composure ; and who ever wou'd endeavour to like or dislike by the Rules of others , he will be as unsuccessful , as if he should try to be perswaded into a power of believing ; not what he must , but what others direct him to believe .

But I confess , 't is not necessary for Poets to study strict Reason , since they are so us'd to a greater Latitude than is allow'd by that severe Inquisition ; that they must infringe their own Jurisdiction , to profess themselves oblig'd to argue well : I will not therefore pretend to say , why I writ this Play ; some Scenes in blank Verse , others in Rhime , since I have no better a Reason to give than Chance , which waited upon my present Fancy ; and I expect no better a Reason from any ingenious person , than his Fancy for which he best relishes .

I cannot therefore but beg leave of the Reader , to take a little notice of the great pains the Author of an Essay of Dramatick Poeste has taken , to prove Rhime as natural in a serious Play , and more effectual than blank Verse : Thus he states the Question , but pursues that which he calls Natural in a wrong Application ; for 't is not the Question , whether Rhime or not Rhime , be best , or most Natural for a grave and serious Subject ; but what is nearest the nature of that which it presents . Now after all the Endeavours of that ingenious Person , a Play will still be supposed to be a Composition of several Persons speaking ex tempore ; and 't is as certain , that good Verses are the hardest things that can be imagin'd to be so spoken ; so that if any will be pleas'd to impose the Rule of measuring things to be the best , by being nearest Nature ; it is granted by consequence , that which is most remote from the thing supposed , must needs be most improper ; and therefore I may justly say , that both I and the Question were equally mistaken ; for I do own , I had rather read good Verses , than either blank Verse or Prose , and therefore the Author did himself injury , if he like Verse so well in Plays , to lay down Rules to raise Arguments , only unanswerable against himself .

But the same Author being fill'd with the Precedents of the Ancients writing their Plays in Verse , commends the thing , and assures us that our Language is Noble , Full , and Significant ; charging all Defects upon the ill placing of Words , and proves it by quoting Seneca , loftily expressing such an ordinary thing , as , Shutting a Door .

Reserate clusos Regii postes Laris.

I suppose he was himself highly affected with the sound of these Words , but to have compleated his Dictates together with his Arguments , he should have oblig'd us , by Charming our Ears with such an Art of placing Words as in an English Verse to express so loftily the Shutting of a Door , that we might have been as much affected with the sound of his Words . This , instead of being an Argument upon the Question rightly stated , is an Attempt , to prove that nothing may seem something , by the help of a Verse , which I easily grant to be the Ill fortune of it ; and therefore the Question being so much mistaken , I wonder to see that Author trouble himself twice about it , with such an absolute Triumph declared by his own Imagination . But I have heard that a Gentleman in Parliament , going to speak twice , and being interrupted by another Member , as against the Orders of the House , he was excused by a Third , assuring the House he had not yet spoken to the Question .

But if we examine the general Rules laid down for Plays by strict Reason , we shall find the Errours equally gross ; for the great foundation that is laid to build upon is nothing , as it is generally stated ; which will appear upon the examination of the particulars .

First , We are told the Plot should not be so ridiculously contriv'd , as to croud two several Countries into one Stage ; secondly , to cramp the Accidents of many years or days into the representation of two hours and a half : And lastly , a Conclusion drawn , that the only remaining dispute is concerning time , whether it should be contain'd in twelve , or four and twenty hours , and the place to be limited to the spot of ground , either in Town or City , where the Play is suppos'd to begin ; And this is call'd nearest to Nature : For that is concluded most natural , which is most probable , and nearest to that which it presents .

I am so well pleas'd with any ingenious offers , as all these are , that I should not examine this strictly , did not the confidence of others force me to it ; there being not any thing more unreasonable to my Judgment , than the attempt to infringe the Liberty of Opinion by Rules so little demostrative .

To shew therefore upon what ill grounds they dictate Laws for Dramatick Poesie , I shall endeavour to make it evident , that there 's no such thing as what they all pretend ; for , if strictly and duly weigh'd , 't is as impossible for one Stage to present two Houses , or two Rooms truly , as two Countreys or Kingdoms ; and as impossible that five hours , or four and twenty hours should be two hours and a half , as that a thousand hours or years should be less than what they are ; or the greatest part of time to be comprehended in the less ; for all being impossible , they are none of them nearest the truth , or nature , of what they present , for Impossibilities are all equal , and admit no degrees : and then if all those Poets that have so fervently labour'd to give Rules as Maximes , would but be pleased to abbreviate , or endure to hear their Reasons reduc'd into one strict definition , it must be , that there are degrees in impossibilities , and that many things which are not possible , may yet be more or less impossible ; and from this proceed to give Rules to observe the least absurdity in things which are not at all .

I suppose I need not trouble the Reader with so impertinent a delay to attempt a farther Confutation of such ill-grounded Reasons , than thus by opening the true state of the Case , nor do I design to make any farther use of it , than from hence to draw this modest Conclusion , That I would have all attempts of this nature be submitted to the fancy of others , and bear the name of Propositions , not of Confident Laws , or Rules made by Demonstration ; and then I shall not discommend any Poet that dresses his Play in such a fashion as his fancy best approves ; and fairly leave it for others to follow , if it appears to them most convenient , and fullest of Ornament .

But writing this Epistle in so much haste , I had almost forgot one Argument , or Observation , which that Author has most good fortune in ; It is in his Epistle Dedicatory , before his Essay of Dramatick Poesie ; where , speaking of Rhyme in Plays , he desires it may be observ'd , That none are violent against it , but such as have not attempted it , or who have succeeded ill in the attempt ; which as to my self and him I easily acknowledge ; for I confess none has written in that way better than himself , nor few worse than I : Yet , I hope , he is so ingenuous , that he would not wish this Argument should extend further than to him and Me ; for if it should be received as a good one , all Divines and Philosophers would find a readier way of Confutation than they yet have done , of any that should oppose the least Thesis or Definition , by saying , they were denied by none but such as never attempted to write , or succeeded ill in the attempt .

Thus as I am one that am extreamly well pleas'd with most of the Propositions , which are ingeniously laid down in that Essay , for regulating the Stage ; so I am also always concern'd for the true honour of Reason , and would have no spurious Issue Father'd upon her . Fancy may be allow'd her wantonness ; but Reason is always pure and chast : and as it resembles the Sun , in making all things clear , it also resembles it in its several Positions , when it shines in full height , and directly ascendant over any Subject , it leaves but little shadow ; But when descended and grown low , its oblique shining renders the shadow larger than the substance , and gives the deceiv'd person a wrong measure of his own proportion .

Thus begging the Reader 's Excuse for this seeming Impertinency , I submit what I have written to the liberty of his unconfin'd Opinion , which is all the favour I ask of others to afford to me .

PROLOGUE To the Duke of Lerma , spoken by Mrs Ellen , and Mrs Nepp . Nepp . HOW , Mrs. Ellen , not Drest yet , and the Play ready to begin . El.

Not so near ready to begin as you think for .

Nepp .

Why ? What 's the matter ?

Ellen.

The Poet and the Company are wrangling within .

Nepp .

About what ?

Ellen.

A Prologue .

Nepp .

Why , Is 't an ill one ?

Nell . Two to one it had been so if he had writ any ; but the Conscious Poet , with much Modesty , and very Civilly and Sillily — has writ none . Nepp .

What do they mean to do ?

Nell . Nay , Fortune knows ; They are now Compounding with him but for two Lines . Nepp .

And what says the wilful Rhimer ?

Nell . Why he says for his Defence , that Prologues are like Corn well thrash'd , there 's nothing left in the Straw . Nepp . What shall we do then ? 'Slife , let us be bold , And speak a Prologue . — Nell .

— No , no , let us Scold .

Nepp . Nay — Since to be try'd here is our Poet's Chance , We 'll wish him sure a good Deliverance . Nelle . Why , then deliver him from you 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ▪ And boldly Censure , what , you have not Wit : May you be poor , and know not what to do For Six-pence , and then rail at Money too . Nepp . From you that have some Wit , and yet more Spight , May you be judg'd , as you do those that write ; May all your Courted Mistresses to you Prove froward and malicious Griticks too . Nell . May they observe with Care your ugliest Looks , As you do the worst things in Plays and Books ▪ Nepp . Deliver him from you that nothing spare ; Nay , you that would fain seem worse than you are ▪ Out-talk your own Debaucheries , and tell With a fine Shrug , Faith , Jack , I am not well . Nell . From you that with much Ease , and little Shame , Can blast a Poet 's , and a Woman's Fame ; For at first sight a well-bred Trick y' have got , Combing your Wiggs , to Cry , Dam me , She 's naught . Nepp . Prithee let 's say no more , but run away , For they 'll revenge themselves on the poor Play . Nell . No matter , we have here one Party fast , I mean the Gentlemen we spoke of last : Though they deny 't the Poet , yet we know , On us they freely wou'd their Claps bestow . Exeunt .

Dramatis Personae . PHilip , the young King of Spain . The Duke of Medina , Uncle to Donna Maria. The Duke of Lerma ; Father to Donna Maria. The Duke d' Alva . The Marquis of Alcara . Count Bruchero . The King's Confessor made Archbishop of Toledo . Caldroon , Lerma's chief Servant and Creature . Angelo , Servant to Lerma . Francisco and Don Juan , two Courtiers . Antonio . Three Lords . Three Courtiers . Three Suiters . Fryars . Officers and Attendants . Four Blackamores . Six Pages . WOMEN . The Queen Mother . Donna Maria , Daughter to Lerma . Catalina , a Maid of Honour to the Queen . Izabella , a Lady , Kinswoman to Medina . Attendants of Court-Ladies . The SCENE MADRID .

THE Great Favourite : OR , THE DUKE of LERMA .

ACT 1.

SCENE 1. Enter Lerma , Alone . Ler. REpulse upon repulse ; like Waves thrown back , That slide to hang upon obdurate Rocks ; The King shot Ruine at me , and there lies , Forgiving all the World , but me alone ; As if that Heaven too , as well as lie , Had scratcht me out of numbers ; at the Last He turn'd his feeble Eyes away from me , As dying Men from sins that had mis-led 'em , Blasting my hopes , and theirs that hang upon me : Thus all those mighty Merits of my Family , Are going to his Grave , there to be buried ; And I my self have hung upon his frowns , Like dew upon a Cloud , till shaken off In a cold showre , and frozen as it fell , Starving my growth , with this untimely frost : But , — I fondly prate away my thoughts Till I have made 'em nothing , like my self . Enter Pedro , Lorenzo , Jaques , Paulo , and Caldroon , his Servants . See — here are the parts of my full Ruine , These decay'd Out-Houses shew the chief Building Wants Reparation . A good day May you all share my Friends , and better too Than Lerma's best , or 't will be dark enough . Pedro.

What means this Salutation ?

Loren.

I understand it not .

Ler. What ? all struck dumb ? has then the news Of Lerma's late Repulse , from Mighty Philip , Wrought such effects upon your shaken spirits , Who are but Play-Fellows with my decays , That it hath ravish'd from you all your tongues , ( Afflictions best Appeasers ) he that 's boldest , Let him attempt to talk me up to ▪ slight it , And he that 's fearful , Let him pitty me ; For I have thanks for every sort of kindness , Nay , for your looks ; I see a sorrow there , For which Lerma has nothing left to give you , But that poor empty name of Thanks , a word That pays for faint salutes , or a good morrow . Cald. My Lord , we were commanded , at this hour Here to attend your pleasure : Ler. 'T is true , I had forgot , I call'd you to confess , I am your Debtor , And you my patient Creditors , Pen , Ink , and Paper there ; and now my Friends , Ex. Paulo , for Pen , Ink , &c. ▪ I 'll tell you all the Fortune I have left , And you shall shar't , as far as it will go . How long , Pedro , hast thou serv'd me ? Ped.

Seven years , my Lord .

Ler. Dost thou not Curse me now for want of Wages ? In such A'prentiship , with great Medina Thou hadst set up thy self ; thy tedious service Has now no more Inheritance , than a loose Ragg About a hang'd-up Man , consuming with The shameful Carcass it should cover . Omnes .

We do beseech your Lordship .

Ler. I apprehend you : all I can do , is this : Let every Man examine his own wishes , The aptness of his own abilities ; and see The Man , how great so e'r , ( the King excepted ) In reach of whose great fires I dare not trust , My wither'd Supplications ) And to him I will with all the liberal praise I can Give him a fair preferment . Omn.

We wish no other choice , but as we are .

Ler. No more ; your kindness is ill-tim'd . That Paper waits for your Impressions , And I to finish your desires : peruse it . He walks about while they write . So — nay grieve not , this is a day Of your most happy changes . He reads . Let me see — Pedro to Don Bruchero , 't is well . Jaques , the Duke d' Alva ; good . Lorenzo , The Duke of Auzon , in Naples , fit . Paulo , To Don Lewis de Velasco , very well . — Who for the Wars then ? Ped.

I , my good Lord .

Ler. 'T is a good choice — but stay , what 's this , At last ? sure I mistake . Read it , Pedro. Ped.

Roderigo del Caldroon , and the Marquiss of Lerma .

Ler. Ha , ha , ha , I was not then mistaken In him , though in the Rest. Aside . Cald. I hope your Lordship never shall have cause To alter your good thoughts , of your poor Servant . Ler. Thou 'st took a course to make thee poor enough ; But e'er we part , I must say something to thee . For you , Gentlemen , you may assure your selves You shortly shall possess your several choices : I dare not wish you well , lest my desires As in my own successes , fail in yours ; Yet all the parts of good , that are not dangerous , Your miserable Lord will pay you : now go in , I 'll follow presently ; in the mean time , I 'll try to turn poor Roderigo's Love More to his proper use . Omn.

Heaven Crown you with success .

Exeunt . Ler. See , Caldroon , how my infected fate Has driven these to seek more healthful Airs . But why dost thou dote on my misery , Thus to pursue a death , that would fly from thee , Or Lov'st thou to grow old in poverty , Hurrying thy Fortune on before 't is ready , And making my ill Fate , Conscious of thine . By Heaven , unless some Holy Nunnery Receive my dear Maria , I have not means Left to preserve her : of my self I 'm grown more careless now , than others are : Cald. My Lord , I never follow'd any hopes of yours , Nor vow'd my self a Servant to your Fortunes ; I only beg , I may not be discarded Before you see some tryal of my Faith . Ler. Thou dost engage me in new Wars , Caldroon , For I am urg'd by gratitude to thee , To tug agen with froward destiny , That I may ravish mighty favours from her To throw in showres upon thee : but consider , Art thou resolv'd to try this chance with me ? Cald.

In spight of Injury , and Fate , my Lord .

Ler. Our Contract then is seal'd — but no more , See , some Servants of the King , stand close . Enter Don Francisco and Don Juan . Don Juan .

Good day , Francisco , how fares the King ?

Fran. Ill enough , I fear , for even now I met Physicians , and some of his Bed-Chamber , Who had this time the watch about his Person ; By them I heard , he had a cruel night . Don Ju.

Made they a question then of his Recovery ?

Fran.

No , For they said it was impossible .

Ler.

The weather alters .

Aside : Don Ju.

Of what nature may his Disease be ?

Fran. Physicians are pleas'd to tell us that After the Patient 's dead : 't is supposed To be of a strange Nature ; if bloody Men May draw down Vengeance ; Heaven seems To send a Portion of his Anger on him . Ler.

Revenge my Quarrel , little Mighty People .

Aside . Fran. 'T is dangerous to talk : At St. Merced's 'Twixt Nine and Ten I 'll meet you . Don Ju.

I will not fail : Farewel .

Exeunt severally . Ler. Grow up , you Blessed Ministers of Anger , And turn the giddy Court into Distractions , And let Great Philip die , as loath'd as Poverty , Or as his own Disease — ha ! more distraction ? Enter two or three , running hastily with Lights ; Physicians and Fryers another way , and every way Noblemen with Torches before them , as the Duke d' Alva , Marquess of Alcara , and Count Bruchero . Cald.

This strange confusion tells the news of death .

Ler.

My heart is wing'd , and soars I know not whither .

Aside . D' Alva .

Call the Florentine Doctor .

1 Lord.

H 'as watcht three nights , and is stoln hence to rest .

Alca.

Where 's that Florentine , and the Confessor ?

2 Lord.

Not in the Court .

Ler.

Now it heightens .

Aside . Alca. Not in Court ? Has the Impostor then leisure to sleep When Spain's Great Majesty lies so afflicted ? Go raise him up , and bid him waken nature , That almost now is in a dying sleep : Hark , I fear the fatal blow is struck . noise of a groan . Exeunt . Cald.

Heard you not that , my Lord ?

Ler. I heard methoughts a groan as Horrible As if great Nature's Frame had crackt in two , And yet that blow kill'd not a fly , Caldroon ; Something is gone old Folks will talk on . But see , these Faces speak a certainty ; Draw near 'em . Enter two or three Courtiers . 1 Cour.

The King is dead .

Ler.

Thanks be to Heaven .

Aside . 2 Cour.

He dy'd in extream torment .

Cald.

Good news , my Lord .

Aside . Ler.

Oh Admirable ! but see , here 's more .

Stand aside . Enter the Duke of Medina , the Duke D' Alva , and the King's Confessor , with Attendants . Medi. My Lords , 't is fit we every one retire Freely , to pay our Griefs for our dead Master ; In the mean time summon the Privy-Council , To meet two hours hence — In the King's Chamber . D' Alva Father Confessor , you must bring the Will : And Publish it at the Council-Board . Exeunt . Lerma pulls the Confessor as he 's going out . Conf.

I shall not fail .

Ler

Is the King dead ?

Conf.

Too sure .

Exit . Ler. I have Ideas in my head , Caldroon , Thy Councel and thy Service must give Life to , That holy Robe I toucht at going off Must Sanctifie , and hide my mortal thoughts , For I am very Worldly at the present . Cald.

Command me , I am all yours , my Lord .

Ler Then the young King — It will not out , But I will cleave unto the Court , like flesh Grown up to fill the place , where 't was cut off ; I will sow Jealousie in every Breast , 'T is a Rank growing weed , and will choak up All that shou'd spring of Love , or Confidence . And then — Good , Excellent — Studies . My mind grows fruitful now , and brings forth thoughts Enough , to stock the World with my ambition , And like a fruitful Mother now takes care , That was before as barren as despair . Exeunt .

SCENE II. Enter the young King , the Queen-Mother , the Duke of Medina , the Duke D' Alva , the Marquess of Alcara , Count Bruchero and the Confessor , carying the King's Will upon a Cushion in State . Queen . SHou'd we all stay , till we had pay'd our griefs To his dead Majesty ; we shou'd neglect The Just performance of his sacred Will. By long continu'd Sorrows : Therefore we must Beg so much time from tears , as to fulfil The Last commands of our dead Sovereign . In which your Services we must command . Med. Madam , th' Affairs of Spain , dwell in a Calm By the wise Conduct of our dead Master : And our last troubles in the Belgicke Wars , Backt by the English , for a time laid by ; So that the breath we have from all our toyls May be employ'd in this our last obedience , To our dead Sovereign ; and our future Loyalties Perform'd to this fair risen Sun . D' Alva . The first visit this new Sun must make Is through the several Governments ; calling all To just Accounts , that those that have done well May be continu'd , other Men remov'd . Alca. Committees for that purpose , must be impower'd . At our next meeting , and the Peoples Oaths In every Province taken for the King . Bruch . Then all the Garrisons must be survey'd , The General , Colonels , and the Captains , sworn By a new Oath , to their immediate King ; And all the Souldiers pay'd their full Arrears . Queen . Add to this our Navies , and our Gallies , And then Embassadors to several Nations Must be next thought on , the King and I Will if he pleases go to the Escurial , Till all things are dispos'd in better order . Alca.

Madam , the Marquess of Lerma is yet in Court .

Queen . To little purpose Alcara ; That 's not forgot In the King's Will , and we must blast him hence With the disdain , that by the Will 's bequeath'd him . D' Alva .

He is a danger always where he is .

Queen . The King has left us heirs unto his State , And we have not forgot , the sawcy words His idle Spleen gave out against our Person ; I 'll keep him like a poyson , in a glass , Till his own venome bursts him . King . Madam , I think it best 〈…〉 To the Escurial . Queen . If you please , Sir , till the 〈…〉 Of your dead Father's 〈◊〉 ▪ for 〈…〉 In Clouds : the rest , my Lord 〈…〉 Commits to you , for safety of 〈…〉 Affairs . Med. It is the Boast of Spain , 〈◊〉 best 〈◊〉 ▪ That we have eyer truly serv'd 〈…〉 . Queen .

'T is an undoubted tru 〈…〉 you to go .

King .

I must first speak with 〈…〉 essor .

Queen .

Let him attend you to 〈…〉 .

Exeunt . Bruch .

That Confessor's 〈…〉 .

Alca.

Wou'd he were shaken off .

Exeunt .

SCENE III. Enter Lerma and the Confessor ▪ Ler. NAY , I am not very 〈◊〉 And yet I hardly think it will be call'd A holy thought . Confess .

By whom ?

Ler.

The Multitude .

Confess . Oh I confest , you have a long time striv'd With mighty Care to please their 〈◊〉 ▪ Ler.

She is my Daughter .

Confess . The fitter then to save her Father Is 't not more piety for such a Cause To lose her Honour , then her own Appetite ▪ And she perhaps may do like other 〈◊〉 Ler. You have confirm'd me now to be that thing , I faintly wist before ; were all the Honours Of my dead Ancestors , lock'd up in 〈…〉 ▪ It shu'd be thus broke up ; But you must now ▪ Soften her squeamish 〈◊〉〈◊〉 ▪ you may tell her , The Mistress of a King , is half a Saint ▪ For she 'll be worshipt ; and with her 〈◊〉 She raises up her Father to his wishes ▪ Now , by my hopes , I speak in 〈◊〉 ▪ You have a fine , large Text , to 〈…〉 ▪ And I will second you , and add new 〈…〉 ▪ Hugging her sin , and 〈◊〉 her for 〈…〉 ▪ See the Sedan is come . Confess . Dispatch the Slaves away ▪ 〈◊〉 You do unload the Ghair . Cal.

I understand y 〈…〉

Ler. There go 〈…〉 ing ▪ And now if Love have 〈…〉 Can shoot a flame into 〈…〉 ▪ I shall grow warm agen ▪ by 〈…〉 If these Plots fail , I 'll 〈…〉 Shall keep my Enemies from rest . Confess . Swell not too soon above your banks , And so betray the head of all your springs : We will not fail what fate so e'er oppose 〈◊〉 ▪ Ler. Nobly resolv'd ; But have you found the humours of the King ? Conf. Yes , I have trac'd an easie nature in him , But too much sixt to one unhappy vertue . His temper is too gentle for our business , And would be rather cruel to himself Than unto others ; for if prest to Justice , I find a pitty hangs upon his heart Like gentle dew that cools all cruel passions . Such a smooth heart as his , will sooner take Impression of a figure than a rough one . In his soft nature Love's prepar'd to grow , When fair Maria's Eyes , their Sun-beams show . Ler. Thou hast now made my hopes so strong That I dare lean upon 'em : farewel , If we but prosper now ; not we on Fate But she on us , shall for direction wait . Exeunt .

ACT II.

SCENE I. Enter Maria , and the Confessor following her ▪ Maria.

IS this Divinity ? Defend me , Heaven !

Conf.

Sweet Lady , hear me .

Maria. Go preach thy Heresies to Toads and Serpents , Or to the Sun-burnt-Indians , whose Devotion Is paid to that which thou wou'dst have me be , A Devil . Conf.

Pray , Madam , be not so loud , you may be heard .

Maria. Wou'd my Soul's storms cou'd raise my Voice Loud as the Oceans Raving ; that the Fool'd World May know what dangerous Couzenage may lie hid Under such holy shapes . Conf.

Is this my Recompence ?

Maria. Oh Monstrous ! Thou exquisite Exceeder of Impieties , That dost Expect a Recompence from Sin , Perhaps 't is all your Trades with Cheating Zeal , To tear your Jaws , and stretch your Throats to hoarseness , To raise poor People to a fond belief , The easier to o'erthrow their new-built Faith ; When such as you but laugh at what you taught ; Such a Destroyer now of all Mankind Art thou black Homicide . Conf. Homicide ? Who whispers to a Storm , may be o'erwhelm'd , But never heard ; I wish'd you to the King , And something with it , of a holier name Than what you rave at , but farewel . Mar. — Stay , Father — What 's this ? A holier name ? — You or I rave indeed . Conf. Yes , and perhaps may warm your coldness , The name of Queen , Will that yet take Impression ? Mar. No — I am as chast to that as to the other , Ambition has its Lust , as well as Love . Con. You give too course a name to great Attempts , And blast our honours , with the care of yours , You may be rais'd unto your Prince's Bed , And climb by your obedience to his Throne , Led by your Love , and not Ambition . Mar.

These are large thoughts — but the Queen . —

Conf.

Forget her , she is in her wayne .

Mar.

Ha! there is no safety while she is alive .

Conf. Nothing 's unsafe to thee but unbelief , Thy Father got thy Honour , and thy Life , And will not murder either : take my advice , And for the rest — see — your Father . Enter Lerma . Ler. Tell me , holy Father , is it Idolatry To pay Devotion to those Glorious Eyes , And call them Lights Divine ? they are my Stars , Since their Bright Influence must direct my fate , My growth of Life , and Fortune must depend Upon their warmth , whose power must fetter pow'r , And Majesty it self learn to obey . Mar.

What means my honour'd Father ?

Ler. Call me not Father , I must take Life from thee , And from thy Suns , like growing Fruit be ripen'd . Mar.

This is strange , to me , Sir .

Ler.

Ha! Have you not wrought her ?

Conf. I have us'd my utmost art , and tempted her With the name of Queen — but — Ler. You are dull : I thought your profession Had been more subtile in these practices ; Leave us a little — Exit Confessor . Has not your Confessor , my best Maria , Acquainted you with my designs ? Mar. He told me something , Sir , had an ill sound , But may be 't was his Piety to try me , It was not his Religion sure to tempt me ? Ler. Tempt you ? to what ? to a King's Love , Perhaps his Throne ; Call your own niceness folly , And not his Love and Care Impiety . Mar. My Mother , Sir , upon her Death-bed , charg'd me ( When her Acquaintance grew so great with Heaven , ) That I shou'd still be chast ; chast to all Appetites , Call'd Pride , the Dropsie of Infected Souls , That swell'd 'em first , then burst 'em . Ler. Your Mother was for t'other World When she preach'd thus , but I am yet for this ; And I must leave it in a hurry , unless thy power Stops the fierce Whirlwind that is just now ready To wrap me into nothing — Mar.

Heaven defend my Father .

Ler. Amen , but you must help ; it was On purpose that Heaven made thee fair , To save thy Father . Mar.

I hope there is no danger near you ?

Ler. Nothing but Death , or Banishment ; Come , Maria , my Best , my Dear Maria , Come shine upon the King , the flames thou giv'st Will return warmth to thee , like the bright Sun That gives the World his heat , and yet so justly Paid back again , he lends at no expence , But preserves all , and shines , as thou maist do . If a declining Father be thy all , if not , Let it be night , and it shall be a dark one To more than me . Mar.

Oh Heavens ! What do you mean ?

Ler. Peace , see the King . This opportunity is lost . Mar.

Good Sir , let me go .

Ler.

You must not .

Enter King , Duke D' Alva , the Marquess of Alcara , and Count Bruchero . D' Alva . Your Father's Blessing Lerma observes . Seal'd it with that condition . Alca. You forfeit all the strength of his advice , If at the first you break his strict Commands . Bruc . The King commanded Lerma's Banishment , As if some Oracle had said , till that be done , The Plague shall Reign , or Famine , or the Sword . Ler.

Mark that , Maria.

King . I am unwilling to begin my Reign , With a severity to any one — but — D' Alva . Look , Sir , where he is , no fitter time Than now , to throw him to his Banishment . King .

What Lady 's that ? —

Alca. How he gazes on her ? — 'T is his Daughter , Sir . — D' Alva . Sir , Remember now , your Father's last Commands : What do you look at , Sir ? Ler.

Now , my prophetick Soul !

Aside . King . Look at ? — that fair Lady : Is she not wondrous fair ? Bruc .

But she is Lerma's Daughter , Sir .

King . No matter — Madam — Goes to her . I ought sooner to have Saluted you , But 't is not less Respect , to so much Beauty To lose Civility in Admiration . She looks down . Ler.

Speak .

King . Be not displeas'd , fair wonder of your Sex , That I admire so suddenly ; a slower Conquest Is fit for lesser Beauties . D' Alva .

Sir , Do you remember ?

King . I do , concerning Lerma , Know , my Lord , I will not wait for a Petition That this fair Beauty might present ; 'T is juster to her power to tell you , I can pronounce no Banishment , nor Death To him that gave her Life . Ler.

You pour Mercies on me .

Bruc .

What change is this ?

King . In Return , my Lord , I do expect this gratitude , That I and all the Court may be made happy By this fair Object — I do expect your promise . Ler.

You have it , Sir .

King .

I will no more punish her modesty .

D' Alva .

Sir , Will you forget ?

Exit . looking on Maria , the Lords on Lerma . King .

No more .

Ler. Now , my Maria , Should I not fall down And worship the Divinity that saves me ? Mar.

Are there Divinities below ?

Ler. There are ; every wise thing is a Divinity , That can dispose , and check the fate of things : I ask no other help but thine , To make Spain know I am their Deity . Come , you must to Court , my word 's engag'd . Mar. What to do , Sir ? To be a Prostitute , or to be thought so ? I shall show there , Sir , not like a Sun , But like a Meteor , risen on a sudden , Whose false light quickly slides into a vapour . Ler. Ha! Dost thou in Disobedience shew thy vertue , And with those guilty Eyes , that may preserve me , Gaze unconcern'd on my approaching ruine . Mar.

Heaven will defend you , Sir .

Ler. I will not trouble Heaven , when you may do 't ; Did you not hear my Banishment and Death Charg'd on the young King , as his Father's Legacy , Of safety to his Crown ? Was he not going Just to pronounce it too ? when thy bright Eyes Arrested all his Anger at Love's Sute . Mar.

What should I do ?

Ler. Keep still his heat alive , or I am sent To an Eternal Coldness ; and like a Crocodile , Thou may'st then weep , o'er him thou hast destroy'd . Mar. Were there no way , Sir , but by my Death To make your Life secure ? I wou'd resign It willingly , and pay you back , The Life I borrow'd of you . Ler. No , 't is the Death of others then must save me , Since I must fall , excuse me , curs'd necessity ; For I will sow Murders so thick , and sudden , That Death shall have a fruitful Harvest . Mar.

What d' ye talk of , Sir ?

Ler.

Of Death .

Mar.

Of whose ?

Ler.

Of those that have the power of mine .

Mar.

Not of the King 's , Sir ?

Ler. Yes of the King 's , why d' ye start ? Nature has no exceptions , though Laws have . Mar.

Direct me , Heaven !

Ler. Come , I trifle , And play with my own dangers , farewel : I 'll leave a Father's Curse behind me , And only stay to please my Eyes with ruine Before mine comes . Offers to go . Mar. Stay , Sir — I know not what to say ; I will do any thing ; I should have said That had been honest ; but that is disobedience . I beg , Sir , but one minutes time to think . Ler. Do , while I call the Confessor : Be sudden in your thoughts , for death depends Upon your Meditations . Exit . Mar. What storms are risen , in my shaken breast ? Thoughts succeed thoughts , like restless troubled waves , Dashing out one another : if I deny , My Father to avoid his destiny , May reach that sacred Life , which I may save ; If I discover this my Father dies . Vertue , thou shalt protect me before heaven , Though not from this bad world . Ah me ! The only way now left me to preserve A King , and Father , is t' expose my Fame : Hard fate , when Vertue is the guide to shame . Enter Lerma with the Confessor . Ler.

Come , Are you resolv'd ?

Mar.

I am , Sir .

Ler.

To what ?

Mar.

Obedience , Sir .

Ler. Oh , Maria , thou breath'st new life into me , And I could waste it in embracing thee ; But time will not allow me choice in happiness . Here , Father , carry her : where I appointed : Remember only this my dear , Maria ; Be not too easie , nor too nice : she 's wise That rules as much by Craft , as by her Eyes . Ex. Maria and Confessor . So now I may rise To be a Pyramid , For I have laid a large foundation . The Queen must be remember'd and forgotten , Or she may shake my politick structures . Enter Caldroon . How now , Caldroon ; what has transported thee ? There is a kind of wantonness that plays On thy pleas'd Countenance , what is the matter ? Cald. Nothing but your good fortune cou'd Have caus'd it . Ler. Why , didst thou meet the Confessor That told thee ? Cald.

No.

Ler.

How didst thou hear it then ?

Cald.

The quick-ey'd Rascals spy'd it .

Ler.

Who ?

Cald. Poor suffering fellows , whose business Is to watch , on every change of power : They have heard of the King's smiles . And are now in full cry , hunting after you . Ler.

Good , Excellent .

Cald. They were running on a wrong track But I hollow'd 'em in — see , my Lord — They have found you ; walk by , Leave 'em to my managing . Enter two or three Suitors , they follow Caldroon fawningly and how to Lerma . He walks smiling . Ler.

Good , very good .

Cald.

Well , my Lord is now a little busie .

Suit .

We ever pray'd for your Grace .

Exeunt . Ler. Kind Rogues . Here 's an alteration , strange as Winter's Thunder , Not two days since neglected as the Grave , That holds dead Inmates ; now I grow warm , The Flies begin to buzze and swarm about me ; What an attractive force has a King's favour ? The Dogs now fawn upon me , that before Started away , and bark'd like little Curs At some unusual Traveller ; I was grown Useless , like a dull piece of Iron of no vertue , Till by a Loadstone touch'd , and then it gathers . Such a magnetick Power 's in a King , Where he but kindly touches , others cling . Exeunt .

SCENE II. Enter King , D' Alva , Alcara , and Bruchero at a distance , the King is pensive . D' Alva . What fatal sadness , like a sullen Cloud , Hangs on his growing Brightness ? Alca. That cursed sight of Lerma's Daughter Has sunk the hopes , and fortunes of all Spain . When must our dangers have an end , When Lerma can beget 'em ? King .

My Lords , I wou'd be private .

D' Alva . Wou'd your heavy thoughts , Sir , Were as obedient as we are , And would at your command depart . King

I have not yet desir'd 'em to be gone .

D' Alva .

Have you the power , Sir , to force 'em :

King . I have not power enough , it seems To compel your obedience . Alca. We will be gone , to death , when you command ; Let us but leave you happy in your life . Bru.

Oh , Mighty Sir —

King . No more , I did not doubt your Loves , or Loyalty . I have some business in my thoughts That does require weighing : stay without . Exeunt . Oh , what a Traytor is my Love That thus unthrones me ! I am no longer King Of any thing but sorrow ; and my griefs Have but a half obedience , they will stay ; But wou'd not go , shou'd I command 'em from me ; I see the errors that I would avoid , And have my Reason still , but not the use on 't ; It hangs about me like a wither'd Limb Bound up and numb'd by some disease's Frost , The Form , the same , but all the use is lost . Enter Lerma with Maria. She comes , and in her mighty Beauty Has drawn new forces up ; so wondrous powerful That Reason shrinks , to Venture the dispute . Ler. Mighty Sir , We come , like Pilgrims creeping to a shrine Of some blest Saint , by whom kind Heaven Dispenc'd its showre of Mercies on their Crown'd Devotions . King . And I , like him that gave me power And pleas'd with Mercies when acknowledg'd , But this Pilgrim , you better might have call'd Your Saint , or Mine , for her fair Mediation Is your Blessing . Rise , Maria ; Your knees must bow to nothing but to Heaven . Mar. That they do now for you , Sir , though to you : For while I bend my knees , before my King , I beg that Heaven would preserve you so , And give you power over your self and others . King .

Ha!

Ler.

Death ; she will spoil me yet .

King .

Wou'd Heaven wou'd grant her Prayers !

Ler. Fond Girl , no more of these dull Orizons — Aside . Mighty Sir , I leave this blessing of my life , To be a witness of my Loyalty ; malice it self Cannot , I hope , shake you against this testimony . Exit . King . Why do you look with fears , Maria ? As if a King were by his name alone Made powerful in his passions , as his Throne . Those that obey may fear a slavery , You now may be the Tyrant , but not I. Mar. If this , Sir , from your power does you remove Against your self ; there 's Treason in your Love . King .

It is your power that makes me any thing .

Mar.

I wou'd preserve you , Sir , to be my King .

King .

Enthrone me in your heart , and make me so .

Mar.

A Throne of passion , for a King 's too low .

King . Were I no King , but blest like other men , Wou'd you despise , or chide my passion then ? Mar. Oh , why Sir ; do you send out treacherous spies ? Should they bring back such weak discoveries , 'T were useless , as to say , what kind of Love , Angels shou'd have to leave their Joys above . King .

Their joys are sure , but ours are shook with care .

Mar. Oh , raise my Father from his black despair , While we our selves to Heavens practice raise Your Love in Mercy 's shew'd , and mine in praise . King .

'T is yours , that may encrease his power and name ;

Mar.

And shou'd his Glories , Sir , spring from my shame ?

King .

Suppose your Father does my joys design .

Mar. Wou'd he to purchase Honour , ruin mine ? Yet his Commands make not my guilt the less , For Heaven allows no pious wickedness . King . Thy Father shall both Life , and Honours owe Unto thy vertues ; fair Maria , know A miracle is done , I more admire , And inlarg'd Love grows grows from confin'd desire . Enter the Duke of Medina gazing at them . The King stands admiring . Med. What blasting sight is this ? I must Disturb him , with an unwelcome piece of Duty . Sir , King .

Ha!

Mar.

Oh , my Uncle !

Med.

I was afraid , Sir , that you were not well .

King .

Not well ? — wou'd you be a Physician ?

Med. With all my heart , Sir , wou'd you let me practise , And wou'd prescribe such wholsome Medicines to you As should prevent this great Distemper Growing on you and all the Nation . King .

The Nation !

Med. Yes , the Nation , Sir , that will of you Demand their King , when you have lost him In Lerma's Charms : Think of your Father , Sir , Who did despise that any Favourite Shou'd be a lawful Traytor by permission ; And usurp all the Power . King .

What do you mean ?

Med. I mean Lerma , Sir , whose wicked hand Grasps at your painted Scepter ; that Lerma That was to sink into the lowest banishment Is creeping up into your Throne , and Power . That he had never twisted with my Sister , And like a Snake begotten such a Viper , Whose sliding to your bosome will but leave A sting upon your Conscience , and disturb The ashes of her sleeping Mother . King . Though your bold Duty might receive a pardon For any large discourse ; know yet , ( That ignorantly you may not snatch your Fate ) All injuries to Maria's virtues , Shall be forgiven as I wou'd a malice Studied to blast my Honour . Lerma whispers to the King . Med. My Life , Sir , is a thing you once believ'd ; I did despise to ballance with your service . For her , Sir ; Nature be my witness , I wou'd preserve her full as vertuous As I believe her wretched Mother was , But then she must not , Sir , be the foul means To charm your sacred Breast , to breath our Honours On every thing that is but Lerma's Creature , Whose hungry Poverties must eat as deep As Famine to the Nation . Honours , might Sir , When they meet Fortunes , are support's to Thrones , But joyn'd to Poverty are the shakers of it ▪ And wasting Crowns sink with such deep Consumptions . King . I can give no greater Testimony That all your former services to my Father Are not forgotten , than to pardon you now . Med. If this , Sir , that I say , be an offence , That I wou'd have none to be King but you , Take your forgiveness back ; for I must live A Traytor by your Mercy . King .

If you despise our Mercy .

Med. Oh Sir , upon my Knees I beg it rather , But 't is for all your Kingdom , not for me : Think , Sir , what 't is to sit upon your Throne Without your Thunder ; only so much left As a swell'd Favourite will please to lend you Enter Lerma , whispers to the King . To hurl at honest Truths ; so , he may speak , And at this idle time sure you may hear . To Maria. What is your Father turn'd your careful Bawd ? For his ambitious ends he wou'd have been So to thy Mother too , but that her vertue Had an unshaken soundness ; thou art rotten As he that did beget thee ; only Nature Painted thee over with a fair resemblance Of her blest Image , wou'd it were blotted out . King . Ha! she weeps , that insolent Man That dares draw tears from fair Maria's Eyes , Shall drop his blood as fast : Without there , my Guards . Mar. Let mine , Sir , drop , before you shed my Uncle's . Think how the World would Curse me , when they hear Medina's love to Vertue , lost his Life . He talkt to me of nothing but of goodness ; And when he spoke of that , ( as he must needs ) He nam'd my Mother , and by chance I wept . King . Thy vertue is too excellent , let thy goodness Punish him for the injuries he did thee , Though I forgive him ; and hence forward To Medina . I will send for you when I want your Council , Till then , forbear my sight . Ler. Mighty Sir ; Perhaps his wild and unbecoming passions Had their beginnings from an ill-tim'd Duty . ( If boldness to a Sovereign may be call'd so ) Yet I dare swear , his Loyalty is perfect , Though my fond Nature is a partial surety For what I love . Med. Oh , spare your partial kindness , good my Lord ; 'T is your old Craft to whet your sharpest Weapon Upon pretended Friendship ; and cut a Throat , As smoothly , as if it were good manners . King . No more , lest your rude breath raise an anger More fatal than your snarling : from hence be Duke of Lerma , and your next Friend , what you Will call him — Come , Maria , At thy fair sight my blushing anger shrinks As if some Angel from above descended , Whose powerful Vision made all passions cease But only Love , still waited on by Peace . Exeunt . Manet Medina . Lerma looking back upon him . Med. What a look was there To out-stare honesty ? Sure he practises to set his eyes , As some do Guns to make 'em carry right , But he can take no aim , but at the fearful ; Those he may hit perhaps ; his full-charg'd eyes Will hardly carry level to brave minds . I must do something , I think it is no Treason , To snatch a King from falling down a precipice : But in Maria's eyes , lies Lerma's power , And I must find a way to put those Lights out . Nor will I leave to help him one small spark , Then let him grope for power in the dark . Enter D' Alva , Alcar . and Bruchero .

How now , my Lords , do you seek any thing ?

D' Alva .

The King , my Lord .

Med.

He 's lost .

Alca.

Does not your Lordship know which way he went ?

Med.

Wou'd you find the King ?

D' Alva .

Yes .

Med. Look in his Father's Grave then ; for his ashes Do yet retain more Majesty than he . If you look after him that shou'd be King . You may perhaps find him in Lerma's pocket . Alca.

We are miserable .

Med. It tamely adds to misery to talk on 't , Like hearts weaken'd with griefs , that spend Faint sorrows on their dying friends , When they should strive , Rather to give them help ; my worthy Lords , Were all your Courages , and Wisdoms ready To snatch at any honest opportunity That fortune offers : keep near the King , And cross him not , till you hear more of me : Something I 'll do to merit from you all , At least , deserve your pity , if I fall . Exit . D' Alva . Heaven prosper and direct you ; This man's Soul is greater than his Title . Alca.

We have new Titles .

Bru. And likely to have more , all the Spawn Of that poor slave , Caldroon , must be Call'd Something , as well as he is now , They say , a Marquis . D' Alva . The Queen ! her looks are full of sorrow , All is not well . Enter the Queen and Catalina with Ladies . D' Alva .

Madam .

Alca.

Royal Lady .

Bru.

Is your Majesty not well ?

Queen .

Ha! I was thinking of the King .

D' Alva .

What of him , Madam ?

Queen . I know not what , but yet he lately seeks Retirements from his Friends , and from himself . A fatal sadness grows upon his youth And makes him haste ( before it comes ) to age . D' Alva .

He has ill Council , Madam .

Alca.

From Lerma too .

Queen .

I thought e'er now , he had been banish'd .

Bru. He 'll banish us all , if his power holds . He hangs in the King's bosom like his Crucifix , And with no less an Adoration . He may be safe in power , that can beget Those beauteous Charms that have subdu'd the King , Power seems to grow , nay , grow his own Inheritance . Queen . We must quickly try to prevent This growing danger to us all , and Spain . Where 's Medina ? D' Alva .

Shall he be sent for ?

Queen . Ha! — I feel a coldness creeping in my veins ; What haste it makes to my griev'd heart . — Ah , me ! She faints . Bru. Carry her in , this news The Queen is carried off . Has troubled her . D' Alva .

I cannot tell , I am suspicious of all Accidents .

Alca. These fainting fits seem as if she were With Child . D' Alva .

With Death I fear .

Enter Catalina . Alca.

How now , how does the Queen ?

Cata. I fear there is as little hopes now left , As signs of life ; just as we laid her on the bed , She fetcht a heavy groan mixt with a sigh , I fear all the small stock of breath That she had left . D' Alva .

This is sudden .

Cata. 'T is sit your Lordship know all my suspicion ; I doubt , she 's poyson'd , this fatal day : There came a Fryer with a face unknown To the Queen 's Ante-chamber ; To all , a stranger , and to the Queen her self ; By him , a Letter was deliver'd to her , Which had no name , but in its matter fair : When she had half read o'er the fatal Paper , Her eyes seem'd to grow weary , and pulse Kept an uneven , and a heavy time , and then Just as you saw her now , she fainted . Alca.

What became of the Fryar ?

Cata. 'T is not yet known ; for in this hurry , While every one was careful of the Queen , He vanisht . Bru.

'T was poyson on my life .

D' Alva . 'T is evident , we must make further Search into 't . Bru. You must assist us , Madam ; and by your faith Revenge the murder of your Mistress . Cata. Doubt not my Faith or Secrecy , I must return , I fear , to a dead Woman . Exit . Alca.

Here 's a strange Relation :

Bru. It must be kept with secrecy : We are hunted , and the toyls pitcht about us . Enter to them , Caldroon , the Archbishop of Toledo . Alca.

See the new Indian Stars .

D' Alva .

Silence , he gapes ; a Proclamation sure .

Cald. The Duke of Lerma , Constable of Spain ; By Father Francisco late . Confessor to His Majesty , now Archbishop of Toledo , And me Roderigo del Caldroon , Marquiss Of Mirida ; and Treasurer of Spain ; Commands thee , Philip Duke D' Alva , Don Pedro , Marquiss of Alcara ; And Don Bruchero , Great Major Domo ; Within an hour to meet in Council . D' Alva .

Here 's a Volley of Titles .

Cald. We must inform you further , of The Queen's Death . Alca.

The Confessor should have told us that .

Bru.

The Archbishop , you forget your self :

Arch.

Markt ye that , my Lord ?

Cald. Why , my Lords , the truth is nothing lessen'd In my Report . D' Alva .

No nor the sadness : we shall attend the Constable .

Arch.

I do not like that word of Alcara .

Exeunt D' Alva , Alca. and Bru. Cald. Pish , 't is a fond fear , who shou'd Reveal it to him ? he slept not since 'T was done , and cou'd not dream it . Arch.

Wou'd 't were undone .

Cald. Oh , your treacherous Conscience Wakes too late ; who shou'd betray it ? Arch.

The disguiz'd Fryer .

Cald.

He was ignorant of what he carry'd .

Arch. I have some business that commands Me hence , the rest your self can mannage . Cald. Be constant , or you loose us — Exit . I like him not , this scrupulous Church-Man Has a shrinking Liver , that stops the motion Of his bloud sometimes , and such another Fright , may like an Earthquake Shake him into discoveries of all ; A blush , in such a case as this , Is Evidence sufficient for a Jury . But I 'll confirm him , or send his faint Contrition to th' other World , and he Shall be the Messenger . He must be held in use , or he will rust , We must find mischiefs out to keep him busie , Lest he have time to think how to be good ; Leisure begets relapses in his Blood : Exit .

ACT III.

SCENE I. Enter Caldroon , followed by Angelo , and Medina thrusts him by and Enters . Med. STand by , Sir , methinks your well pac'd , Greatness might move a little . Cald.

For whom ?

Med. For me , thou ill-drest Puppet of Authority ; Thou Stalking Property , that walk'st on Screws , Which but laid by , thy Honour is unjoynted , And grows as bedrid as the Impotent . Cald.

You shall be answer'd .

Med. Thou Mist , exhal'd from Dunghils , Whose thick Breath poysons the purer Air It mingles with . Cald.

You are very bold .

Med. I will be bolder , and knock your Greatness , Without you study quickly a Set-form , To ask Forgiveness in . Cald. My Honour can defend it self From worse Opposers . Draws . Med. I 'll mince your Honour . And send your Lowsie Family the Shares Of your divided Greatness . Draws Enter Alcara and Bruchero . Alca.

Hold , this place is not for Quarrels .

Med.

Nor for Wrongs .

Alca.

How was 't ?

Med.

Let met speak , that dare tell truth .

Cald. When I relate the manner , it shall be To those that have the power to punish . Med. Let me go . There 's nothing that has a lawful Birth , That can endure this mongrel Greatness . Enter the Duke of Lerma , leading Maria Veil'd , with Attendants . Ler.

What Hurry's here ?

Cald. I know not , the Duke Medina thinks His Greatness Entitles him to Injure Any one . Ler.

I 'll blow him and his Storms quickly away .

Med. Is your Breath so powerful , that it can Puff Men off like tops of Thistles ? Ler. I cannot now spare so much time As to lose any on your Brawls . Caldroon .

I have Employment for you .

Exeunt Lerma , Maria , and Caldroon Med. And for that piece of Night-work too I take it . Alca.

Pray peace , my Lord

Med. Let me go , I will but ask him A civil Question . Alca.

What is 't ?

Med. Whether great Men , and Fathers too Are not the best and closest Bawds ? Alca.

Fye , fye , consider who they are .

Med. 'T is that consider'd doubles every wrong : Had I been sindg'd with Lightning , I had stood With all my Wrongs hush'd as unwindy Night ; But to be scorch'd thus by a Candles Snuff , A thing that only blazes in expiring , And which must dye in its own noisomness : Makes my Impatience swell above the Banks Of common temper . Alca. You must restrain this Fury , whose effect Turns to your own destruction . Enter the King , with a few . Med.

What 's this ?

Alca.

The King .

Med.

I will speak .

Alca.

Take heed , good my Lord .

King .

Which way went Lerma ?

Med. Headlong , Sir , and 't will be dangerous To follow him . King .

What 's this ?

Med. I was your Souldier once , Sir , And had Commission to destroy your Enemies ; And I have done it with my Sword as boldly As I will now attempt it with my Tongue : And 't is against a greater Enemy Than ever Fortune brought me to oppose In all your Battels . King .

What Enemy is this ?

Med. So great a one , that he 's now become More Terrour to your Souldiers , than those Armies They always met , with Noble hopes of Conquest . Here Victory is lost already : for Lerma Has took you Captive . King . 'T is boldness , and not duty , to question Prince's Favours . Med. But not to beg 'em , Sir , no more than 't is To pray , that Heav'n wou'd turn a Vengeance from us , Threatning in Lerma's power : Do not forget , Great Sir , the last Desires your Father made , And force him to call louder from his Grave . Turn , mighty Sir , your Looks the other way , And see your widow'd People want their King , Drooping like Days unlook'd on by the Sun . Your Councel wither'd more with Care than Age , Grown as much Strangers to your great Affairs , As unto Lerma's pleasure . Alca.

Excellent ! 't is nobly honest .

King . Must Prince's Favours then be limited , Or judg'd by common Breaths ? 'T is restless Envy , that urges Mutinies Shelter'd under duty . Exit . Med. So the Lesson is learn'd perfect . Oh Impudence ! to make the Majesty of Kings The Pawn of all their Villanies . Alca. Brave Lord , though I grieve to see you prest Thus into needless dangers ; yet I must Joy , that our Country can yet boast such worth . Med. O my Lord , so wretched are we growing , I tremble to out-live our Happiness : Those that wou'd always live among Diseases , Ventures not more for Life than I for Death . Alca. Nay , my brave Lord , You shall see all your Friends dare share With equal Courage the worst Fate ; For wisely to go back is now too late . My Jealousies are just , lend me your aid , And we may dive into the heart of all . Med. And into his that wrought these Mischiefs too , In greater privacy I 'll utter more ; Let us be firm , and like a mighty Weight , Sinking our selves , press others to their Fate . Exount .

SCENE II. Enter the King and Maria , with two Papers . King . It is a thing of great Concern Maria , And I should have the Opinion of my Councel . Mar. Your Councel , Sir ? are you their Sovereign , Or wou'd you be a Slave to their Opinions ? King .

But if ▪

Mar. If what ? Dull Majesty , is this the loudest Tune Of a King's powerful Breath ? If 's and but 's , The timorous Language of the meanest people , That are to give account of their low Actions Unto Authority : Princes Determinations Shou'd be as free as they design their Power ; Not shaken with the Aguish touch of Doubts : What Tracts leave the great Ocean ? Or , who questions Why it is calm , or rages ? Who shall chide The Sun that warms one portion of the World , More than another ? When you are absolute In Love or Power , then I 'll beg again . King . Stay , I have resign'd my Reason to My Love , give me the Warrants . — — Now think , Maria , The King signs them ▪ Whether you have not ask'd too much Of one you love so little . Mar.

Have you done it , Sir ?

King .

You see I have .

Mra. Do you not repent it , Sir ? Nor hate me as an Instrument , Of pressing you to Acts , unworthy of you . King . Oh Maria , 't is hard for me to hate , As 't is for you to love . Mar. But have I not amaz'd you , Sir ? In pressing you so hastily unto an Act Of such Importance ? King .

A little .

Mar. Thus low I beg your pardon ; And by this measure see to what dangers Princes expose themselves , and Crowns By too much trust , and kindness . King . How 's this ? Have you then acted , what you thought amiss ? Mar. I have , Sir , by necessity , not choice ; My Father's violence had took another way . More fatal , had I not gain'd from you These Governments , as he designs to send Away the Marquess of Alcara , and Count Bruchero . King .

Ha!

Mar. Now have I set before you , Sir , a Mirrour , That truly shows — — How fatal 't is for Princes , To shine on any with contracted kindness . King

Whither must all this tend ?

Mar. For he that does engross your Beams Robs others of your Light , and is a Cloud That hangs upon your brightness ; breeding Ill weather to all the World besides ; while he seems To make you practise power unlimited ; Just then you have the least , obeying his . King .

Excellent Woman !

Mar. From henceforth , Sir , be every body's King , And then you are your self : lend equal ears To what all say , and like a skilful Chymist Draw the quick spirit off , from every Counsel , And from your wise breast breath it as your own . King . Oh , Maria ! you set foundations for my Love , upon my reason now . Mar. One thing more I have to beg , And then ( my Father's Life only excepted ) It is the last I 'll ask : these Warrants , Sir , I will deliver to my Father ; but in the mean time Those Lords shall have private directions , A little to defer their preparations ; If you dare trust me , Sir , it is your safety I study now : pardon my foolish fears , Your danger only nam'd , calls forth my tears . King . Oh , do not waste the treasure of your eyes , For such a life that you so much despise , While I more justly disobey in this , To dare be careless of the thing you wish . Mar. Can you my heart for want of friendship blame , That for your safety have expos'd my fame ? Love to your glories , shou'd his flames resign , As fires their Light , when the bright Sun does shine . King . If Thrones be Seats for Cares , in a King's Breast Love has a Title sure among the rest : My love , as a fair Vertue I proclaim ; When it grows foul , I will conceal my shame . Mar. Ah , 't is some ease to love , to be confest , But , 't is a torment , when it is supprest . King .

Do's cruelty , a sign of kindness , prove ?

Mar.

It is the greatest to deny the Love .

King .

Both cannot suffer in one cruelty .

Mar.

I sho'd confess too much , shou'd I deny .

King .

Wou'd you more cruel than you are appear ?

Mar.

Pray , Sir , be gone , I 've said too much I fear .

King .

Maria —

Mar. — If you have pity , Sir , be gone , Leave me to blush a little while alone . King . Farewel , I 'll love , though you shou'd still design To hide your own , and ne'er to pity mine . Exit . Mar. Among what Rocks I steer a dangerous course , My duty to a King , and to a Father ; My Countries shaken honour , and my own , Calling at once upon me to take heed : There 's something more than this , yet , shakes my heart , But I will throw the Ague off , lest I That to direct others their way design , Shou'd my self want a friend , to show me mine . Enter Lerma . Ler.

Have you prevail'd ?

Mar.

Yes , Sir — but —

Ler. No matter for a Reason , or a Circumstance , Give 'em me ; and still maintain thy power , That I may pay Allegiance to thy eyes ; So now retire , for the Court begins to fill . Exit Maria. Enter Alcara and Bruchero . They come , she was dispatcht in happy time . Bru.

See the full sail of Spain .

Alca.

Strike , and pass by .

Ler.

The King by me salutes you .

Lerma throws them the Warrants , and Exit . Alca. This was a running Lottery , Mine 's a good prize , the Vice-Roy Ship of Naples . Bru.

Mine , of Navarre —

Alca. Why , this great man drops Kingdoms As a full-plum'd Hawk mews her loose Feathers , And never cares who stoops to take 'em up . Bruce .

He has some other meaning in 't .

Alca. 'T is certain his bounty else had never Showr'd on us . Enter the Archbishop , and Caldroon . Alca.

See , these are of his Council .

Bru.

And now come sweating with their fond complements .

Arch. My Lords , you are much engag'd Unto his Grace , the Duke of Lerma . Bru.

We have the Bonds about us .

Cald. Oh , such another friend as Lerma , The Earth holds not . Alca.

'T is believ'd .

Arch. Had you but seen , how he implor'd the King , Pleaded your worths , and your abilities ; I think you wou'd have thought , as now you may , Nature had ti'd him to you in some bond . Bru. The Duke is , as he ever was , Covetous to scatter Favours , though unask'd . Cal. I , and so careful of the Men he marks To make Election of in his great Thoughts , That when they sleep , he wakes to make 'em great . As I dare swear you never thought of this . Alca.

Not I , I vow to you .

Cald.

I hope , my Lord , it shall not be forgotten :

Arch.

That were too foul Ingratitude .

Bru.

Oh , never , my Lord ; and to assure the Duke —

Arch.

'T is well , so may you prosper .

Exit Arch. and Caldroon . Alca.

What think you now ?

Bru. T is Rank — you and I , my Lord , Are busie , and stand too much in his way ; Our remove will give his Actions scope . Alca. H 'as wove his curst Inventions cunningly . How he threw his guilty Favours to us ; And durst not stay to take our Thanks , Here 's more Intelligence , see the Duke . Enter Medina , leading Izabella veil'd . He has got something too . Med. Your way 's now clear : there 's one Will bring you to your Attendance — Remember to bring Maria to the Garden At the appointed time . Izab.

I will not fail on my part .

Exit . Alca.

You have got a fair Charge , my Lord .

Med.

When you know all , you 'll say so .

Bru.

We two , my Lord , are banish'd .

Med.

Banish'd ?

Alca.

But to honourable Employments .

Med. We have trifl'd then too long ; And suffer'd this black Cloud to grow too big , Whose breaking will drown us all . Bru.

See here the Sentence of our Banishments .

Enter a Woman veil'd , puts a Letter into Alcara's hand , and Exit . Alcara reads , and seems amaz'd . Bru.

What 's this that vanish'd ?

Bru.

Some secret Invitation .

Bru. How now , man , what not impart It to your Friends ? Alca.

Yes , read .

Bruchero reads .

To the Marquiss of Alcara .

YOU and your Friend Count Bruchero , will receive two Patents for your honourable Banishment , 't will not be unpleasant to the King , if you pretend Sickness or Business to defer going to your Employments : This Advice admire not at , but follow .

Bru.

This is strange .

Med. The Advice is good , no matter who sent it . Nor could it come from any common hand , The Business is too young to be acquainted With any thing but one that knew its birth . Alca.

'T is true , and we must put it off .

Bru.

And yet it may prove dangerous .

Med. The danger 's only in accepting it . If we disperse our selves , he 'll catch us up , Like a flowen Covey ; besides , the Letter says , The King will not be displeas'd : there is some Mole , That heaves for us unseen ; Count Bruchero , You shall pretend , that to prevent all Rumours , You 'll perfect your Accounts before you go . You , my Lord , must pretend sickness , And seem to keep your Chamber ; Prescribing to your Doctors a Receipt , To make them say as you do , and in hard words Set forth a dangerous Distemper . Alca.

Good ; but what success attends on this ?

Med. That we must wait for , honest designs Justly resemble our Devotions , Which we must pay , and wait for the Reward : Yet this I 'll add , to strengthen your resolves , I have some designs , I think cann't fail me , Shall shake the great foundation , Lerma laid ; We search deep Mines , and if the veins but hold , We purchase all the Wealth we wish to have , And if it fails , we dig a noble Grave . Exeunt .

SCENE III. Enter Caldroon , with Letters . Cald. Mischiefs , with Plagues , engender every where , And beget new Diseases ; the Queen's Murder Is more than whisper'd now ; and the Duke's Daughter Is Indian talk , the 'tother World is full on 't , And , which is more than all , the Messenger That brought that fatal Letter to the Queen , In which her death was seal'd ; is by Medina Sent for in private : whom we thought asleep , But wak'd too soon , before our careful Friend Cou'd stop him in his close attempt . The Storm has overtook our greatest speed . Nor can the Duke himself find out a shelter : I 'll instantly entomb my new got wealth In a disguis'd Chappel which I 've consecrated To my dead Ancestors ; that may save me yet ; 'T is pity to take ill pains to rake up wealth , Which at the last can purchase us no more Than a mean life , which we enjoy'd before . Enter Lerma and the Archbishop . The Duke , and trouble in his face , I 'll step aside a little . Exit . Ler.

Said he , he would not go ?

Arch.

Till his Accounts were level'd .

Ler.

And Alcara is sick ?

Arch.

'T is so given out .

Ler. They have me in the wind , There is some secret trick in this , or else They durst not slight me thus ; it must be so , My violent motion grows already slow : I 'll weather falls about me , every way I try to take , proves heavy travelling . Arch.

The peoples cries grow loud .

Ler. The gaul'd Rascals wince at my oppressions , They are like swarms of Bees , when up and buzzing They light on any thing ; Alcara , and Bruchero That dare dispute their Sovereign's Command , Give Language to their murmurs , I have striv'd In Hunters toils like a fierce Lybian Lion , And am grown weaker by my strugling . Arch.

The King hears nothing of all this .

Ler. No , Maria's Charms hang yet about his Senses ; But all this weight will stretch Love's bonds ; whose ties Are weakly twisted between gazing eyes . A little distance or some new Object May set his heart free and unravel all Arch.

'T is dangerous .

Ler. Extreamly ; besides , I fancy , she grows Dark to my business , and has starts As if she wou'd lose me before her Honour . Arch.

What 's to be done ?

Ler. No way but what we last resolv'd on , And that out-does the soul of all invention . Arch.

I 'm ready for the Journey .

Ler. Your safety is included in my peace , Which with like care , all my designs propose . Arch. The way for my departure's made already . And the feign'd Letters from his Holiness , Show'd and allow'd by the King 's great Council . Ler. 'T is well , this Pacquet then determins All the rest , and now , my Lord , cut through The tardy time , and let your expedition kill my doubts : While I at home will fan away these fears , Till this hot weather changes ; so farewel . Arch. Farewel , keep the storm off till then , With the advantage of the Sun , you hold , And my return shall be swift as your thought . Exit . Ler. Farewel , and prosper . Enter Caldroon with Letters . Ha! thy face is full of News . Cald. Such as I wish I had not : Is the Archbishop gon — I dare not show my Letters — Ler.

But now dispatcht .

Cald.

But now ? — Humh !

Ler. Thou fright'st me with thy Accents , Why that Humh ? Cald.

Nothing , my Lord .

Ler.

Thou lyest .

Cald.

My Lord .

Ler. Ha! dost thou swell , that art my creature ? Thy breath is nurtur'd from my bounty ; Why art thou then a Traitor to my trust . Cald.

My Lord , you do amaze me .

Ler. Why dost thou hide such necessary truths , And ruine all my Plots for want of knowledge ? Cald.

I love your Peace so well , I dare not utter it ▪

Ler. Why , Caldroon ? What craven temper hast thou found in me ? What chill cold standing blood without a tide ? That thou shou'dst think I know what 't is to fear : Thou 'st seen me sight against a destiny , Which I have turn'd , by wise and bold designs ; Thou 'st seen me poorer than the Cheeks of Famine , Less lov'd and follow'd than infected Towns : Could'st thou then witness once , in all these hazards , That Fate could triumph in one sigh of mine . Cald.

Alas , my Lord .

Ler. Pitty me , if thou seest me tremble at it ; Come , I will know it all : and , tell it me , In the most horridst Language thou canst study ; For I am skilful , and can tune all terrors . Cald. My Lord , this packet first is a sad witness Of too much danger . Ler.

So.

He reads . Cald.

His colour changes .

Ler.

Keep in , false Fear , he must not see thee :

Aside . Cald.

His blood flies up and down , the storm has tost it .

Aside . Ler. Ha , ha , ha , does this trouble thee ? Let 'em all like creeping Snakes hiss at me , I have a charm yet left shall dead their stings ; Yet it was fit I should know all this : What more is there ? Cald.

Much , my Lord — for —

Ler. Let it alone ; Attend me in my Closet , There I 'll satisfie thee better . Cald.

I 'll attend your Grace —

Exit . Ler. Now , heart , I give thee leave to sigh , and swell , My thoughts must not be judg'd by these base Slaves Who hang upon my Fortune , not on me ; Such Instruments , like flatter'd Princes , Must never hear but of Prosperity ; Vertue can singly stand on its own trust , But Passions must depend on truth of others . Our hopes of Victory on mean Mens valours , Ambition upon base and wretched Instruments , On Women Love , more treacherous than all ; Yet in despight of my curst Enemies , I 'll find a Conquest in a safe retreat , And though they rise , I 'll sink to be as great . Exit .

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Enter Maria , and Izabella . Mar. YOu 're welcome , and I dare trust your goodness ; Since it can share with me in my condition , Which is a bitterness well gilded only . Iza .

I never shall deceive you , Madam .

Mar. Perhaps I may do you , and all the World Who thinks I doat upon my splendid shame . Iza .

What 's this ?

Aside . Mar. The Character which I have had of you Gives me a confidence I 've found a Friend That I may weep to ; sorrow's like a Child Which loves to be bemoan'd . Weeps . Iza .

Sure she is Injur'd .

Mar. Come , sit down : see , Izabella , These Flowers live without the sence of sorrows . Iza . And yet they 'll hang their heads in scorching heat , When no kind drops fall on 'em . Mar. 'T is true , as if like me they wanted pitty , But I 'll stoop down upon their fragrant Beds , And weep upon 'em . Oh , Izabella , Wou'd any thing could prosper by my griefs . Iza .

I must believe her . —

Soft Musick . Mar.

Hark , What 's that ?

Iza .

Nothing , Madam , 't is but your fancy .

Mar. 'T is Harmony , and cannot be my fancy , For that is out of tune . Enter Medina as a Genius , in a glittering Habit. Ha! What 's this ? help , Izabella . Iza . Sit still . Madam , 't is only some design To entertain you , the Musick shows it now . The Musick ceases ; and the Genius speaks . Gen. I am the Genius which does wait Upon Spain's loose and shaken State ; I rule the Spirits of the Air , Who , as their guide to me repair ; And then by me to every mind A several genius is assign'd , Who wait and whisper to their Souls , But no Decree or Power controuls ; For every one their freedoms use ▪ And all their Faults , and Vertues chuse . The account of every deed and thought Are by the winged Spirits brought : We sit in Sun-beams , while they tell The news of Mortals that do well ; But when they tell of Vice , they shrou'd Their heads , and whisper 't in a Cloud . Some merit neither praise nor shame , Who tempt not fate , nor trouble Fame ; Those Spirits that on such attend , I 'll charm , to show how time they spend . He Charms , an Entry of Spirits , imitating vain men dumb . Now , from above , I 'll call for one That is the Genius of the Throne ; Next thine , whose sighs encrease the Air , That thou art not so chast as fair : 'T is those alone waste every hour , That wait on Beauty , or on Power . Enter the First Genius . 1. Gen. See , I obey , and now am weary grown Longer to wait upon a Throne , Then let me take some rest And flie to whisper to a common Breast ; Not fed with Luxury , Nor flatter'd up to be a Deity . He waves his Wand , and enter the second Genius . 2. Gen. I come , I come , fill'd with despair To whisper longer , to the proud and fair . Their own just Conquest they despise , And please themselves with guilty Victories : Against those Altars I in vain perswade Where worship is by time decay'd . 1. Gen. I oft have mingled with the thoughts Of Kings , and told , they were not Deities , And how all Princes faults Made men have daring Tongues and Eyes . 2. Gen. I told this Beauty too her fate , That one soul Crime had such a weight , That all must sink ; and he that first does find A Beauty , yet unblemisht , kind , He is like one that does discover An unknown World , by whose success He makes a way for others to possess ; As she 's made ready for another Lover . Both. Then set us free , that we may find , In low Estates , a steady mind , Whose harmless Life , and vertuous Love , Is far above The reach of Vice , or fear of Fate ; Let no good Genius henceforth wait Upon such false , and such unsteady things As ador'd Beauties , or as flatter'd Kings . Exeunt . Mar. Ha , Izabella , There is some Further meaning , sure in this , I do not like it . Med.

You must .

Mar. How must ? what are you ? I am betray'd , Izabella , stay ; what was all this meant for ? Exit Iza . Med.

Truth .

Mar.

These shapes spoke falshood .

Med. I 'll help you to one then , shall tell you Truths . D' ye know me ? Pulls off his disguise . Mar. My honour'd Uncle ; brave Medina , My wonder 's greater than my doubts before . Med.

The greatest wonder is behind .

Mar.

What 's that ?

Med. Thy Lust , That does exceed all wicked Miracles . Mar.

My Lord , for pitties sake .

Med. 'T is pitty forces me to this Violence , The pitty of thy Blood , I had a share in Before it was infected with this Leprosie ; The pitty of thy Youth , thy beauteous Youth , Like a fair Flower pluckt up by the Root When 't was but newly budding , before time Could show it to the World , how sweet it was . Mar.

Do but hear me , Sir .

Med. Yes , if you 'll speak Repentance with a Passion As great as that which made you act your lewdness , Then I will hearken like a doating Mother , To hear her Children prais'd by flattering tongues . But if it be to excuse or mitigate Thy wretched Fathers , or thine own offence . And Bawd for whorish Acts , by poor excuses ; The Ears of Cruelty shall not be deafer , Nor storms to crying Seamen that must sink , As thy drown'd Honour does , though not so deep . Mar.

My Lord .

Med. Think of thy Mother now , that through some Star Looks blushing down on thy Impieties ; And finds it harder to hold a wrath from thee With all the Mediation of the Saints , Than 't was to purchase for her self , by Vertue , That blest Eternity which she enjoys . Oh , thou hadst been blest , Maria ; if thy Father , Like other Wolves , had been then torn to pieces Before he knew what he begot in thee ; For thou hadst then wanted a powerful Pander : Or , had Heaven blest thee with Deformity , Thou hadst been safe in unattempted Vertue . Oh , Maria , it is thy Beauty that has been The fatal blazing Star that did foretel The hot Contagion that has follow'd in thee . Mar.

Will you not hear me then , my Lord ?

Med. Dost thou make way at all for me to Hear thee ? or hast thou yet let fall a tear ? To bribe me from pronouncing cruel Judgment . Mar. When I want Innocence , I 'll weep , or beg Of you and Heaven ; But I that have preserv'd My Virtue , as unstain'd as at the time When my blest Mother ( who now smiles upon me ) Gave me and that together to the World . I will not stain it by a false Confession . Med.

What 's this ?

Mar. A Truth , which I am bound by tyes of Nature And Honour , to tell you , and all the World , Nay , on my Knees I thank you , that you take The room of a lost Father up so kindly ; And question me , for all you do suspect : And I will gladly tell you my true Story , Like those that with a pleasure do repeat The Tales of mighty Dangers they have past . But if your foul Belief , like the World's Tongues , Can only think all ill , as they can speak 'em , Then I rise thus , and from my Vertue borrow A Scorn , as great as such from their own Vices Can borrow foul Opinions Med. Why , what a Fool was I , I did expect Repentance , and shou'd have look'd for Impudence ▪ Perhaps you fool your self into this boldness , And think there 's no man that dares question The Mistress of a King , but I wou'd sooner Destroy a Traytor to my Prince's Soul , Than to his Crown . Mar.

The King has as much Vertue as I wish him .

Med. That easily may be , but 't is a question Whether he will continue still so bad , As thou desir'st him . Mar. I see that you are deaf to hear of goodness ▪ And I must either have a guilt within , To beg enough , or Vertue to despise you . And when you know , which you shall quickly do , How you have injur'd me , you will repent Your bold Injustice : — so farewel . Med.

Stay , stay , you must not go .

Mar.

Must not ?

Med. No , nor shall not : the Masquers that you saw Are all my trusty Friends , 't is in vain To cry , or tear your Throat . Mar.

What do you mean ?

Med. To shake you in your damn'd security , Or set your Soul free from that gilded Frame , Whose unseen rottenness corrupts it . Mar.

Will you murder me ?

Med. I did not come with that intention . But thou hast rais'd me to a vertuous anger , That tempts me to prevent thy shame and mine . Yet will you turn your Eyes in to your Breast , And they must weep , for they will see thy heart So very foul , that it needs pious washing . Mar Nay , then If your scorn'd Anger swell'd you to a Mountain And were to fall upon me , I wou'd stand Thus — and not shake , but wou'd despise Your Ruine and mine own . Med. Yet repent , and do not force my Hand To a swift Justice , that must send thy Soul Where vitious Falseness dares not tell a Tale. Mar.

I had rather be judg'd there than here .

Med. Then , Justice , I thus obey thy strict Command , But powerful Nature stays my feeble Hand . Draws aside . Mar. Why do you pause ? your Passion is more noble Then your Vertue , one can make tryal of me , T'other dares not ; Strike , and all the while , See what suspected Sin startles my Soul , Or stirs me to a blush . Med.

Dare you endure to dye ?

Mar.

Were 't not a sin , perhaps I durst do more .

Med.

What more ?

Mar. Give my self what I wish , as easily As I provoke your shaking hand to do 't . Enter Izabella running . Iza . Oh , my Lord , undone , undone , the King 's just Coming , and searches for Maria. Med. The King ? — no matter — I 'll fall nobly , now you shall be reveng'd . Mar. I cou'd weep now to see the great Medina Believe all ill so easily ; when you speak Of my unhappy Father , his bare Name Confirms you in your cruel censure of me : But though you talk of my blest Mother to me A thousand times , you have not power to think , One drop of Vertue has descended to me From that pure Fountain . Med. Oh Heaven ! send peace to my distracted Soul , And tell me which is truth . Mar. Heaven will tell you suddenly , but we forget , Put on your Disguise , and leave the rest to me . Med. This Disguise may be more fatal Than my own shape . Mar. You must not for the World appear your self , For then you will be thought , the Author Of something I intend , which will be fatal to you . Dare you trust me in nothing ? Med. Well , in this I dare — Izabella , Bid my Friends hide their Disguises , And conceal themselves . Iza .

I will .

Exit Izab. Mar. You remember there was a Letter Written to the Marquess of Alcara . And Count Bruchero . Med.

I do : Did you write it ?

Mar.

No more Questions now .

Med. But I will ask something ; For I grow willing to believe thee good : Pray tell me . Mar. Peace , I hear a Noise . — Look If you see any coming . Med.

'T is the King ; I trust you now , Maria.

Mar.

Do so always then .

Enter the King , D'Alva , &c. King .

Maria — How now , What 's this ?

Mar. Pray , Sir , do not look upon him , 'T will make the poor man so out of Countenance , That I shall have no more Diversion ; It seems that Izabella and the Gardiner Contriv'd an Entertainment for me , It was done just as your Majesty came . D' Alva .

This is an odd Excuse .

King . I shou'd have been sorry to have Interrupted your pleasures . Mar. Pray , Sir , do not look at him , He 'll be so asham'd . King . I will look on nothing but thy brightness ; Come , Maria , I fell in love with thee , Then with thy Vertue which was hard to find In so much Beauty ; th' other is so common It bears no Rate , there 's Poverty in Vice ; The hardest things to find bear greatest price . Med. This is the likeliest thing Exeunt King , Maria , D'Alva . To Vertue , I ever saw : Besides , had she been vitious , She would not have neglected her Revenge , One of the pleasant'st Lusts ill Women have : All may be Counterfeit — and yet — There may be such a thing as a good Woman . Enter Izabella . How now , What news ? Iza .

All safe ; I must hast after them .

Med. Stay , and prethee tell me , my best Cozen , Dost thou think Maria Vertuous ? Iza .

By Heaven I do .

Med.

By Heaven I have a mind to do so too .

Iza . I have observ'd things worthy of your knowledge . Another time I will relate them to you . Something she 's resolv'd to do , I 'll watch To find it out : So farewel , I dare not stay . Exit Izab. Med. I know not what to think ; I wou'd believe , but yet my shaken Faith Creeps to its growth but slowly , like an Infant Forc'd to a hasty Birth before its time . Our lives and our devotions are but sickly , When Aguish doubts their growing health controuls ; A shaken Faith 's the storm of tottering Souls . Enter D' Alva . Ha! D' Alva ? What has brought him back ? D' Alva . Here 's the Apparition still , I must be satisfied , What are you , Sir ? Med.

One of Lerma's Angels .

D' Alva .

Lerma's Devils .

Med.

See , my Lord , I meant his evil Angel .

D' Alva . Oh , my dear Lord , Discovers himself . Pardon my apprehension ; We tread upon such rough and narrow paths , That any trick , or error , throws us down . Med. Fear not , my Lord , I have discovered And broken , as I hope , the best foundation That Lerma builds upon . D' Alva . Let us delay no time , but instantly To Council with the Marquess of Alcara , And Count Bruchero ; they have something To impart , that is of great Importance . Med. To add to all , I have secur'd the Witnesses , Antonio , and Catalina ; we 'll lose no time , Whilst Lerma , as I hear , thinks I am fled , And Joys in fullness of his growing power . But let him swell , fate never durst deny Bold Spirits , to dispose of destiny . Unshaken Trees , that have the largest roots ; A bold , and well-arm'd hand as well may throw As those , whose Roots do not so deeply grow . Exeunt .

SCENE II. Enter Lerma . Ler. If my invention fail not , I have yet Out-stript 'em all ; if my wing'd Mercury Keep touch in time : The Court looks odly , And every brow wears mysteries about 'em : The fawning Rascals of it ( which like Cobwebs Shou'd be swept off ) methinks avoid me now , Who us'd to crowd , and stop my way with cringes ; Their smiles look like the grins of anger'd Monkeys : But I am safe , while my Maria's Charms Hang on the King , and numb him to a Lethargy , There 's some that are too great , must be cut down , Feign'd Accusations , and a little time Will kill all wonder , which is shorter liv'd Than dreams of Children , or old Womens tales . Enter Angelo . Ang.

My Lord .

Ler. Ha! Death on thee , I was serious . Begon — this was a guilty start , Strikes him . Ex. Angelo . This Slave too , will perhaps Grow wise , and guess at something , How hard it is , in slippery ways To keep a steady Motion . Enter Caldroon . How now ? what news ? — speak . Cald. I am too narrow to contain , It is too great to keep or to let out . Ler. Curse on this form in thy Relations . For thou dost practise on me like an Advocate , Whose splenetive exordiums are more horrid Than the ill cause he wou'd make monstrous . Cald.

Your Daughter , Sir . —

Ler. Is sweeter than the Spring , wreath'd in the Arms Of budding Flowers ; what more of her ? Cald. There can't be Man enough in you to hear it , And then out-live it ; 't is so great a weight , I almost sink to bring it . Ler. And yet art such an Ass under thy burden As not to throw it off : or tell it me , And I have all thy weight . Cald.

You cannot hear it .

Ler

Not if you do not tell it .

Cald.

'T will crush you .

Ler. It must be heavier than all the weight Of Peoples Curses , and the great Ones Envies : Thou dost not know one thing , Caldroon ; Fortune and I did long ago agree , I to make work for her , and she for me , Tell it me boldly ; and prethee now , Caldroon , Do not like those that bring a bitter Potion , Make scurvy Faces at it , as you give it . Cald. Oh , my Lord , Dogs howlings , or the groans of Mandrakes , Wou'd be a Consort of soft Musick , To this harsh thing I have to utter . Ler. Thou 'st numb'd my Senses like a skilful Surgeon . And now may'st strike , I shall not feel thy Hand . But come , what of Maria ? Cald. She 's gone , stole away , Unknown by whom , or whither . Ler. This is a dangerous Wound indeed , I know not where to search it . Cald.

My Lord , I told you what 't wou'd come to .

Ler. Oh , Sir , you are a mighty Prophet , Where was the King ? Cald.

As they say , asleep .

Ler. Could he sleep ? and his dull Soul without A dreaming Whisper , that she was losing , And when he wakes , and misses her , what then ? Cald.

He will be troubled sure .

Ler. Troubles wear off from Kings , ( they are too high To grieve , and sorrow slides from them ) like falling drops From sides of houses , — they dare not hurt her sure . Cald.

It cannot be imagin'd that they dare

Ler. She must appear again , our rapid Motions Will bring us round again to that fair Sun . If the King loves her too , ( as sure he does ) Her Absence makes it Night with him . I wonder what they meant by 't . Cald.

I cannot guess , my Lord .

Ler. Thou 'rt shallow then ; they fondly think The King will be uncharm'd , and hearken to their Clamours , now she that stood between Their Breath and him , is thus remov'd ; 'T was pollitically done ; — And yet they dare not tell him where she is , Nor the bold Ravisher confess the Fact . For yet , Caldroon , she hangs upon his Heart Like hopes of Joy upon a troubled Soul ; I have a Plot to help us yet , at least To give us time till I have search'd this further . Cald.

What is 't , my Lord ?

Ler. I 'll instantly to the half-soul-less King ▪ For he must want his better part of Life Now she is gone : and tell him she is retir'd On purpose , till a hasty Vow be past : And frame a Letter in her dearest Name , Shall keep his Love from chilling . Cald.

'T is excellent .

Ler.

He must not know she 's lost .

Cald.

Not for the World .

Ler. By that time , Fate will send her me again ; For those above , all know my Title to her ; She is my Child , Caldroon , but such a one As can raise Sorrow above Nature's pitch . Prethee observe , Caldroon , how other Fathers Mourn for lost Children ; then thou wou't see I do not talk so idlely as thou think'st ; But in this loss , I must not lose my self , And whine to nothing : I 'll to the King . Enter the King and Medina , D' Alva , Alcara , and Bruchero , whispering to him and Medina shewing Papers : the King sad , and expressing Amazement angerly , and so passes over the Stage . Cald.

He comes .

Ler.

But with a Guard , I like not .

Cald.

We are undone .

Ler. He wou'd not look upon me once , While round about him , all my Enemies Whisper'd Destruction to me . Cald.

All 's out , I fear .

Ler. Base Prince ; By Heaven , Caldroon , he has forgot her ; How easily his fond and childish Love Threw the fine Thing away , that it so cry'd for . The Memories of Princes are but Graves Where Beauty , and where Merit lye forgotten . Cald.

Think of your self , my Lord .

Ler. When the thick croud of Thoughts for lost Maria Will leave the least way open , then I will ; Oh , she had Eyes , Caldroon , I hope she has , That did , and may , yet look him into nothing . Cald.

Cou'd we but find her .

Ler. She cannot be conceal'd , she is too glorious , Had she been coupl'd with some rough-hewn Slave , Her Language wou'd have play'd upon his Soul , And charm'd him into dotage , if she had griev'd Like an Idolater , he wou'd have gather'd Her Tears upon his Knees , for sacred Relicks . But had he lost her thus , thus as she 's lost , He wou'd have search'd her out , or else destroy'd All that he could suspect , and then himself . But this sick shadow of a Lover That whin'd , and pin'd away in passion for her , Is like a School-boy , glad to be releas'd From a hard Lesson . Cald.

Here 's more Company .

Ler.

The worst is come already , and the rest look'd for .

Enter Medina , D' Alva , Alcara , Bruchero , with Angelo , led Prisoner by an Officer , with a white staff and a Guard attending . Med. You shall have more Company , Seignior Angelo — Do your Office , Algazil . Algaz . Roderigo del Caldroon , I Arrest thee In the name of Philip , King of Spain . Cald.

I obey it , we are o'er-taken .

Ler.

Medina , I will answer the Arrest .

Med. Your case is not much better , You will be summon'd , Lerma . Exeunt . Ler. Why then I will appear , Medina ; You 're a kind Brother . Cou'd I turn all my Passions into Curses , And make 'em as effectual as my sorrows , They might , perhaps , destroy the proudest of 'em ; And yet my well-propt heart shall bear it all , He only is above Envy and Fate , Whose mind in sinking Fortunes keeps its height . Exit .

ACT V.

SCENE I. Lerma appears , as in his House , with a Letter in his hand ; two Men bringing in a Coffer after him , opens a Door , and they place it in . Ler. HEre , set that Treasure in , for they are Reliques , And will preserve their faithful Worshipper ; Why , here are mysteries Canonical , That must not be searcht into by disputes ; 'T was a good purchace too , considering The deep necessity ; or if compar'd To the vast sums I gave my Instruments To turn them Fiends , and make my self a Devil , For I am Sainted at a cheaper Rate , Thanks to his Holiness , my pack of Councellors , I have out-gone you all ; but to my Letter . He Reads . My LORD ,

THis Coffer holds your wishes , and the full salutes from Rome ; your Money is return'd as promised : I have at Naples here , met news so fearful , has alter'd all my purposes : I have serv'd you faithfully , pay it to my memory ; you are secure , and I preserv'd from shame , by a death of my own chusing , Poyson . So farewel , no more yours , nor any more

Toledo . Kind Man , that with such pious Charity Sav'd me the labour ; he knew I honour'd him , And wou'd not have his Life laid to my charge , But Piously he took it from himself ; Where 's such another Churchman ? For Caldroon , by this time he is going after him , I wou'd the Bishop had but taught the Slave , His Wife , and charitable way of dying : But where 's Maria ? I dare not ask my self , For I , alas , can't tell , and Heaven will not ; Where is its Mercy then ? for it ne'er had Another way to Bless , but by Maria. Could my prophane and passionate Revenge Reach but the Hearts and Lips of the Religious ; No Incense evermore shou'd upward fly , Of Prayer or Praise ; I 'd stop all Piety Till they restor'd Maria to me — hark — Sing here . I hear some noise — ha ? what 's this ? Enter Caldroon , going to Execution , led by two Fryars ; a Fryer going before , carrying a Crucifix ; after follow others of several Orders , every one with a wax Taper in his hand ; they pass round the Stage , singing his Funeral Dirge . After they go out , Medina enters with a Guard . Ler.

Oh , are you come ? what Tempest now ?

Med.

How do you like the sight you saw ?

Ler.

What the Pageant ? I did not like it .

Med.

I thought so .

Ler. I was vext to see how the poor Slave Hung down his head , he shou'd have laught at you . Med.

This heavy Spectacle was meant —

Ler.

To frighten me ?

Med. No , to prepare and touch thy Conscience Before thy Summons which I here pronounce ; Charles Duke of Lerma , the Council do Command In the King's Name , that you appear immediately To answer Articles prefer'd against you . Ler.

Philip , Duke of Medina , 〈◊〉 dare come .

Med.

Your impudence was never question'd .

Ler. Nor shall my confidence be shaken by you . This was no kind Office for a Brother . Med. Where I find Vertue , there I own Alliance , But I still persecute ignoble Acts , though Against him that wou'd be call'd my Brother . Ler. Wou'd be call'd ? Take thy disdain'd Alliance back again , I do despise to plead the chance of Nature To give me Title or pretence to any thing . And if you are such as you talk , your self , You might more nobly have pursu'd those Actions , That you count ill : I always wore a Sword , And do so now . Med. I love not to be urg'd to draw my Sword , Though that of Justice is much fitter now To strike at thee , which is so sure and sudden , That thy pretended Courage is despair . Yet , now I think on 't better , 't is an Honour To be thy Executioner . Draws . Ler. I did not think yet to have found Medina A poor malicious Enemy , cou'd you believe That I have lost my Courage with my Fortunes , But to take off your mean ignoble scruple , Know , Medina , that at this time , my Life Is as secure as thine , by Heaven it is . Enter Alcara . Thou rob'st not greedy Justice of a morsel . Alca.

What 's this ? the Guard there , hoa ?

Ler.

What , betray'd ?

Alca. How now , my Lord ? suffring a Traytor With a Sword drawn upon you . Med.

My Lord , you are mistaken .

Alca. The Council call for you , and are Just going to Sit , and immediately expect Your Prisoner's Appearance . Med.

My Lord , I 'll follow you .

Alca.

I must not leave him Arm'd .

Med. Take my Honour , my Lord , there shall be Nothing done , he is my Brother , and as far As Justice gives me leave , I 'd use him Nobly . Alca.

The Guard , my Lord , must wait in sight .

Med. As you please ; but he and I must have Some words in private . Alca. Upon the engagement of your Honour . Nothing but words shall pass , I leave you . Exit . Med. My Lord , you have it , I 'll follow presently . You see we are prevented . Ler. You have dealt Nobly , and I am calm again ; Only , I wou'd beg leave to tell you a little tale Before you go . There was a Man , Whose Pious Love to Honour , made him forget Friends and Alliance : such Chimera's Have brought on Cruelties in your cousen'd mind That Nature startles at , and the forc'd World Who make advantage on your formal dotage , Condemns you for that ruine which they wish ; And call it cruelty in you to bring it . Med. You are a subtle Sophister , and might Talk a believing Fool from his just ends . Ler. Why , Did you never try in all this time To teach my heart in private , and direct it ; And where you found a wound , like a good Chirurgeon , Search it to Cure , and not to kill your Patient . Med.

Away .

Ler. The love of Vertue reaches not to Ruine , And all will judge your course thus violent ( But such as flatter you for their own ends ) To be your hate to me , not love to Vertue . Med.

I 'll hear no more .

Ler. It 's true , perhaps I am my self an Ocean , And mingled something dangerously by Fortune , And yet but only gently whisper'd to : I am as calm as Nature undisturb'd In sleeping Infants ; but when loud breaths Blow me to storms , I care not then who sinks . Med. I trifle time to hear thee : The hour of your Appearing's come , make hast , Or you 'l be fetch'd by common Officers : So farewel , I fear you fool your self with hopes . Exit . Ler. He 's gone ; he durst not stay to hear me ; He did begin to melt : good natur'd Gentleman . I love to try Mens tempers to laugh at 'em ; For I shou'd hardly trust a promis'd kindness . I will not beg , that can command my Peace ; He that secures himself well in the end , Must destroy Foes , and never trust a Friend . Exit .

SCENE II. Enter Medina , D' Alva , Alcara , and Bruchero , ready to sit as in Judgment . Med.

I hope , my Lords , I have deserv'd your thanks .

D' Alva .

And all the Nations .

Bru. Caldroon and Angelo did hardly thank you : The Ants had pil'd a mighty heap of Treasure . Alca.

No news , my Lord , yet of your Niece ?

Med.

Not any .

D' Alva . She has show'd a Vertue in this close retreat Beyond all Story . Med. I do confess I 'm glad I was mistaken ; I thought her worse than she has prov'd . Alca. The King they say begins to have suspitions That she 's convey'd away by some of us . Med. That fancy will be nourisht in his mind By Lerma's Creatures , we must haste the Tryal . Alca. All 's ready , see the King . Enter the King . A Cloud of sadness gathers on his calmness ; He seems disturb'd . D' Alva .

Sir —

King . What , you wou'd make excuses for the fact , Or , wou'd you own it for a Politick Vertue ? D' Alva .

What fact , Sir ?

King . Dare you ask me what ? or do you think I am too young , not grown up to a King ? Alca.

We do beseech your Majesty —

King . To give you leave to be all Kings , and Tyrants Of my Affections ; you Ravishers of Vertue , Either restore Maria to the World , Or all go suddenly , and lose your selves . Med.

Does your Majesty believe ? —

King . Yes , I do , that all great Men Have jealous envies , equal unto Rivals ; And all the courted Beauty is Ambition , Hid under Justice , which , take heed you follow , And closely too , or ye shall all feel mine : So , you may sit , but I will watch your actions . Exit . D' Alva .

This is unhappy .

Med. It will be more , unless we now embrace The opportunity : Come , let us sit And call the Witnesses . Enter Izabella . How now , What 's the news with you ? Iza .

I wou'd speak with the King .

Med.

From whom ?

Iza .

Maria.

Med.

What 's your business ?

Iza .

'T is only for his Ears .

Med.

How , Izabella , are you grown her Servant ?

Iza .

I am a Servant to her Vertues .

Med.

And so brought a vertuous Message ?

Iza .

My Lord , you may say what you please .

Med. But you must not go ; unless you first . Tell me the business — Where 's Maria ? Iza .

I must tell neither .

Med.

Ha , Did not I intrust you ?

Iza . And so does she , and I 'll be just to both : Pray stop me not . Med. Sure , Izabella , you forget your self , And what I am ? Iza .

But not what I ought to be .

Med. Go back , I say , and tell that counterfeit Maria , She shall not save her Father , with the loss Of her own Prince — go — Nay , no help . Iza .

Then I must speak .

Med. Put her out , and from henceforth I do disown my blood in thee too . Iza .

This is Cruelty , not Justice .

Med.

Stop her mouth ; out with her .

Puts her out . D' Alva .

What 's the matter , my Lord ?

Med. Nothing but a Tale-bearer dispatch'd Away . Alca.

I have seen her sure .

Med. It may be so : Come , we trifle time ; Sit , my Lords , and call the Witnesses . Enter Catalina and Antonio . Med. Antonio , you are ready to averr Your own Confession , made at several times . Anto.

My Lords , I am .

Med. The Heads of your Confession made out The Queen's Death , and your reward ; and how At last your own Death was design'd . Anto. All this I am ready at large to testifie , And prove . Med. Your Father was a worthy Man , And you were more unfortunate than safe ; Your proof's fair : Catalina , I know , will be as steady as your Virtues . Enter a Messenger . The King appears above . Is Lerma come ? Mess. He has refus'd to come the common way , And is descending by the private Lobby . D' Alva .

That private way is not for Traytors .

Med. Envy him not , my Lords , 't is the last time That his proud humour shall be satisfied ; I do believe he knows not what he does , But like a tir'd o'er-hunted Deer , Treads fatal Paths offer'd by chance , And not design'd by him . Enter Lerma in a Cardinal's Habit. They cry , Room . Hark , he comes — ha — What 's this ? A Vision ? D' Alva .

A Mask , I think , not an Arraignment .

Alca.

He has o'er-reach'd us all .

Ler. I see you are amaz'd , my worthy Lords , To find your Loves to Vertue made so useless , As not to practise your admir'd Justice : Perhaps you are so fond of that fair Mistress , As that it mingled Passion with your Actions , But now you may discharge your manag'd Witnesses That stand prepar'd against the Duke of Lerma , Lerma the Cardinal cannot here be Try'd : Be not so dull , my Lords , it shews uncharitable , An envious Malice will be thought the Father Of such a Sadness : nothing but Ruine please you ? Med.

D' ye come hear to rail ?

Ler. No , to Preach , it is my Office . I did no sooner touch this Sacred Habit , But I was fill'd with Notions . D' Alva .

The Devil helps thee to 'em .

Ler.

Still so uncharitable ?

D' Alva .

Dost thou name any thing that 's good ?

Ler.

Ha , ha , ha !

Med.

Are you so merry too ?

Ler. Why , wou'd you have me whine , and beg from you A thing you never had ; and which I need not ? He that seeks Safety in a States-man's pity , May as well run a Ship upon sharp Rocks , And hope a Harbour : nay , if you are so dull , You 'll make me laugh again : 't is not ill sport To see your cruel Aims thus lost and cozen'd . Cou'd you believe , I meant to dye so tamely , And quench the Thirst of your ambitious Envies With my desired Blood ? This holy Robe tells me , it is my duty , And I forgive : but sure I may laugh at you . Med.

Impudence , stand off . Let us consult .

They whisper . Ler. Do , whistle out your Brains . The Council will run mad ; they are angry , I wou'd not take their way to Heaven . I must preach Patience to 'em : Now for an Oracle . Med.

You know 't is in our power to Confine you .

Ler. In that I have as well prevented you : Here 's the Assignment of a holy Prison By my own choice , and granted by his Holiness , In that fair Monastery I rais'd my self . Med.

Subtle Devil .

Ler. I will not longer trouble you , my Lords , But leave you now to prey upon your selves . He that devours the rest , in time may be A Monster , more o'ergrown than e'er I was . When you are low , and poor , you are all Friends , And in one fair pretence together join , While every one conceals his own design . It is your Countreys cause until full grown In long sought power , then it proves your own . When you seem good , your Crimes are not the less , Men have all new Creations by success . Ambition like a wanton Womans hast , Invites new Slaves , grown weary of the last . Mankind each others stories do repeat , And Man to Man is a succeeding cheat . So to this fate I leave you , and shall joy , To see those Crimes you blame , your selves destroy . May you all sink in fates for me you meant , And be too dull , your ruines to prevent ; That when you 're lost in this ambitious toil , I in my safe retreat may sit and smile . Exit . D' Alva .

Here 's a strange change : thanks to his Holiness .

Alca.

We may blush to be thus cozen'd .

Med. Methinks the greatness of his Spirit stir'd me , I cou'd almost forgive him . Enter Maria led by Nuns , and Izabella . She discovers . What , More Masquerades ; How , Maria ? Mar. Where , or to whom , shall I now bend My almost worn out Knees ? Alas the Deity , From whom I shou'd hope mercy , is not here : How short are Kings of gods ? they 'r every where . She weeps . King . Maria on her Knees ? Dare they suffer her to kneel Above , and Descends To whom I bow ? Mar. How durst you to a King shut up the way ? Shou'd Saints deny a wretched Soul to pray ? Did I your safeties with such care design For you to take the Life , that gave me mine . Med.

Her sorrow moves .

D' Alva .

Her Vertue more ; rise , fair Maria.

Mar. Speak , must my Father dye ? if it be so , We 'll both together to my Mother go . D' Alva .

Fair vertuous Maid , your Father lives .

Enter the King hastily . Med.

Ha! the King .

King . Maria , Tell me the wretch , that ravisht thee from me , That my Revenge , great as his crime may be . Mar. When you your Sacred Word to me did give , My Father by your Mercy still shou'd live , I stole away that you might be left free To be as just , as merciful to me : And durst not else , but unto those above In Prayers for you , confess my secret Love . King . Your Father is preserv'd from danger , free , And sav'd himself that had been sav'd by me . He in a Holy Robe is now retir'd , By danger urg'd , by Heaven I hope inspir'd . Mar. What an excess of Blessings Heaven can give ? Oh happy Father that does more than live ! With joy now to my Sacred Cell I 'll go ; I shou'd not weep , but my fond tears will flow . My Zeal it self has a temptation too , I scarce shall pray for any thing but you . King . If you , in leaving me so cruel prove , Your Prayers will be as useless as your Love . Mar. Time , Sir , alas , will in a little space , An Image drawn but faintly , quite deface . Love , like a shadow , while youth shines , is shown , But in old Ages darkness , there is none . King . But all pure Love , like glow-worms heatless fires Lives where it shines , and with that Life expires . Beauty , like Time on Dials , moves so flow , That they who always gaze , can't see it go . Mar.

But I must now leave Heaven , Sir , or you .

King .

The choice were easie , were the question true .

Mar.

Is not Heaven then the best felicity ?

King .

But you as well may go to Heaven with me .

Mar. 'T is hard , thorow the World to find the way , If I talk long , I shall my self betray ; Your Joys I study , and deny my own ; Shou'd Lerma's Daughter share your Bed and Throne ; Farewel , Sir , when you think of this , confess , I lov'd you , far beyond my happiness . Going out . King . Stay yet , and hear this Vow , Spain's empty Throne , Unless from you , shall want succession . Med. Now , by my Sisters blessed Soul , I share Between her Vertues , and my Kings Despair ; Maria , stay , you must to Duty bow . D' Alva .

You sav'd us all , preserve your Nation now .

Alca.

That Vertue still may flow from you , their Spring .

Bru.

And make a Nation happy with their King .

Mar.

What shou'd I do ?

King . — Defer your cruel thought , Till by my grief you are more pitty taught . Mar. This , Sir , is to o'ercome the easiest way , My Forces will all lessen by delay , Yet , Sir , in this I must submit to you , And Heaven , to teach my heart what 's best to do . King . Till then — Let all that love me , in my troubles join , And let their griefs , Allegiance pay to mine . Let not a smile upon a Face be seen , Till fair Maria yields to be my Queen .

Epilogue Spoken by Mrs Ellen. MUch injur'd Gentlemen , may you now please , You true Committee of such Grievances , Kindly to hear me now , and I will show it , We have been all ill us'd , by this days Poet. 'T is our joint Cause ; I know you in your hearts Hate serious Plays , as I do serious Parts , To trouble us with Thoughts and State-designs , A melancholy Plot ty'd with strong Lines , I had not the least Part to day you see , Troth , he has neither writ for you , nor me ; You are not hard to please ; though a Poet scarce Can make a Play , yet he might make a Farce , With small ridiculous things to stuff it full , And make you pay to laugh , not to be dull . Henceforth , against all sad and grave intregues , We 'll make Offensive , and Defensive Leagues ; And for all those that dare write Tragedy , We 'll make a Law , with a huge Penalty ; And yet few Poets so much Wealth possess , Or Wit , where you might levy a Distress ; Let the grave Poets then trouble but few , Write Elegies on Men , which few Men knew , And few perhaps will read ; or let 'em write Rhimes for the Bell-man , to be spoke at night . This Poet may be pardon'd , lest it be said You did condemn before the Law was made ; I mean , if's Play be good , I tell you True , He thinks it is , but pray now , What think you ? FINIS .