SCENE Arratus Lodgings.

SIR Symon, without this Letter your self had been most welcome, and I am bound in honour to your Father (besides the great Engagement of your pre­sence) to do whatever he commands me.

Sir, I cannot but thank you, our English way admits of but few Complements, and those are grown so tedious to me since I left the Clime, I purpose to forget 'em.

Plain down right dealing's the Sicilian fashion, and that I count the best too. But dear Sir Symon make me happy in the knowledg why you left your Nation.

A toy—a frollick—a meere trick I Gad, a vain desire to see this other World, and know what difference is between the Natures of such different Kingdoms.

Your Curiosity ought Sir to be commended and encou­rag'd; but sure some other Reason urg'd you to Travel, Love, Love, I'le warrant you?

I Gad Love is the only thing I hate, 'tis more offensive to my Constitution, then Arsnick to an Ague. I Gad we are cloy'd with it in England; and that which makes me hate it more▪ is, my last Amoret in the very height of her Embraces not only pi [...]ke my [Page 2] Pocket, but dealt unkindly by me, and all that. Love, oh out upon't, 'tis the greatest Monster Sir in Nature.

I'm sorry you are so averse to what we count a pleasure; and more since the great hopes I had in such a noble Son, are blasted in their early spring.

I find by my hand, and all that; this old man intends to push a fortune on me. —

It is my fate Sir, at first I lov'd like Plato, then like all the World, that is every pretty yielding Beauty; at last by too many enjoy­ments —

Pox on 'em I may say —

I grew so dull, so wearied and so senceless, I Gad I resolv'd never to love again.

'Tis very strange.

Nor never will, unless Sir to oblige my best of friends, your noble self.

I rest engag'd to you. I must confess Sir I have a Daugh­ter, and one whom Nature has rather been prodigal then back­ward in bestowing Graces. My mind ever design'd her (Sir) for you, and to compleat what I so long had wish'd, even from both your Infancies, I let your Father know my whole de­sign, whose heart with mine did willingly agree; there wanting nothing but your riper years, which Heav'n bestowing on you both, your Father according to his promise, and my great desire, has sent in you the Center of my hopes.

I find my self betray'd, betray'd to love I Gad, and wheal'd already into the bonds of Matrimony, and that's a dangerous task for a Gallant of the times to undertake, especially for one who hath bin caught by that religious cheat of Wedlock at least fifteen times; but the best is, the Sicillian and our Laws differ as much as their Constitutions, and for those facts committed there a Gentle­man in honour cannot suffer here. —

Sir you honour me too much in thus bestowing upon me so great a prize, as your lovely Daughter, who maybe as ugly as the Devil for ought I know.

Had not the great deserts Sir of your Father, besides equal­lity of birth, and friendship, translated to my Soul your noble vertues, this first encounter would have giv'n me sufficient satis­faction of your merits.

[Page 3]

My Lord, your praises rise to Ostentation; and to requite you for this noble kindness, if recommencing love will ought ob­lige you, you may command your Servant.

You make me happy; this grant of yours, pulls back some years from age; my Daughter will be overjoy'd at such a Husband, and meet you with the best respects of Love.

Let her be swift in granting, for I Gad if she holds out long, my affections will melt away, and turn into down right ha­tred, meer slight, neglect, scorn, and so forth.

She's half prepar'd already, there wants nothing but the grant, the word, I Love, and then the deed is done.

I but that word I have known extended to such a length, that it was impossible to find an end of the resolve. I since my fit of Love's return'd, hate all but yielding Females, and to those I fly with as much vigor, as a Novice in the Art of Courtship to his new gain'd Mistress.

Come Son, for so I'le call you now; after your tedious jour­ney, rest is needful, then you shall see the only joy I have,

SCENE a City.

My Kings Commission gives me not only orders to dethrone brave Zannazarro, but to demolish all, to burn his factious Town, and in its Ruins bury the thoughts of Usurpation.

Heav'n crown the action with success.

My gratitude divides it self amongst you all; the only way of recompence, until some happy beam of opportunity shall light my wishes to a requital of your early loves. — Summon the Rebel.

What means this hasty Summons? Is your anger so swift in motion, that it not admits due rites unto the dead? and though our [Page 4] griefs sit heavy on our Souls, 'tis not of Kin to fear, but we dare draw our Swords ere we have wip'd our eyes, and in a peal of Cannon, thunder his Funeral.

'Tis pity a resolve thus fortified, should unravel all its glo­ry, in an unlawful cause.

Oroandes, you may spare your labour, though we have lost the strongest Cittadel of all our hopes, in our dear Fathers death, yet we will sell our Lives, at honours dearest rate, and not fall an humble Sacrifice to death.

I am sorry Sir, that my advice, proceeding from the love I bear your worth, has miss'd its wish'd for ends: Farewell, all happi­ness but that which waits on victory attend you.

Where's Zannazarro?

Receiv'd into the Town, in spight of all our Force.

S'death, their Army beaten, and cannot he be Conquer'd? scale the Walls, kill and burn all, till death be tyr'd with Con­quering.

Fly dearest Lady, fly, the day is lost, your noble Brother taken, Wars furious Goddess, fierce Enyo stands over your batter'd [Page 5] Gates, a dropping pine about her Tresses lends with its dismal light an entrance to the Messengers of Death, the Battlements sweat all in flames, whilst loud confusion fills th' enlightned air.

Weep not my dear companions, you have shar'd alike with me in ev'ry change of fortune, if fate ordains this the Ca­tastrophe of all those Tragick Scenes; to us our Virgin innocence shall be protection, safer then th' united Swords of Earths most powerful Monarchs.

Oh they are entring, entring, lets fly dear Madam.

Whether? When slaughter runs through all, where can we find protection?

Ha! — what place is this? — with what an awful Majesty it looks! — sure it inshrines Deity — what's she? —

with such a face Troy's tutelary Angel look'd, when all her Crown of Turrets drop't their flaming heads.

What ere thou art, that in this dreadful shape com'st to prophane this hallow'd place with blood; if in your breast, there dwell a human thought, telling you that a Woman was your Mo­ther, for her sake pity a distressed Virgin.

A chilling frost unnerves my joints, sure 'tis Divinity or Magick that hath thus depos'd my Reason, to let rebel passion tryumph i'th' injur'd Throne. — Rise Lady, there's a Religious ice about my heart, that chains up all my fury: — I shall rather slight the commands of a much injur'd Prince, then violate ought which the dictates of my Soul proclaims for sacred.

Oh lead me then to some polluted place that's grown drunk with blood, and there let mine increase the purple deluge; I shall not always be protected by this place's sanctity, or if I were, find few of so much vertue, to be with a Religious reverence aw'd.

Do not dear Soul too much afflict your self, my Power [Page 6] secures you from all future violence, each tear you shed drops from my heart in blood, I'm conquer'd in this victory, and become a Captive to my prisoner: fear nothing Madam, for your Guardian Angel roab'd in virginity is not whiter then those thoughts which cloath my Soul, when they reflect on so much suff'ring vertue: Oh give my passions leave to move within the Orb of your Celestial Beauty, while no line — tends to the Center of a thought unchast.

Alas my Lord, this is no time to play with Love, when War and Death sit by and hold the stakes.

If all my service to my Prince hath merited ought worth requital, he must show it in mercy to you, or by a blacker doom shake my obedience off; but only grant me thus much satisfaction, that when time redeems you from these cruel frowns of fate, you would with pity then on my afflictions look.

I were ungrateful else, noble Sir; I so much prize your vertues, that if ere my frowning stars smile on my fate again, their powerful influence shall reflect on you, in so much thankful grati­tude, you shall acknowledg it the eldest Child of Love.

My joyes grow equal with my wishes;

SCENE Arratus Lodgings.

Son, you'r most nobly welcome, my Daughter I thank my Stars accepts the proffer, and no doubt but both parties will be agreed.

I hope so too Sir, for as I said before I hate a tedious Court­ship.

Daughter this is the Gentleman I spoke of, is he not in ev'ry thing compleat to my description?

Yes Sir, — If gawdy Cloaths, Powder and Paint can make a Lover, this Monster wants no Graces.

[Page 7]

Madam, having the honour to be introduc'd into your noble company, I hope I shall not appear rude in thus presuming to kiss your hand, and all that. [I Gad, she is very handsome, and hath conquer'd my heart at this first entervieu. —

] Lady I hope your Father hath made you sensible of my Amours, and withal the way and manner of my Courtship, for I Gad and all that, I love damnably, and hate monstrously.

'Tis strange Sir you can admit at once of love and hate.

In their degrees Lady, but sometimes they are inseparable, for I can at once hate and love, love and hate, and all that, but the present cause which may be easily avoided is a tedious Courtship.

I'm glad I know your mind Sir, and shall strive to please in expedition.

I vow to Gad and all that, you are the sweetest lovingest Lady, and so forth, in all Europe.

I told you Son she would be all obedience, and to preserve your Loves entire for ever, prepare against to morrow for the Wedding.

To morrow Sir?

Yes Daughter, so I've said, a days loss begets an age of sorrow, to morrow is the ultimate.

The warning Sir's too short, I cannot in one night con­sent, to the great loss that fatal day will bring; defer it Sir a week.

By Heav'n, I shall forget to love by that time, alas Madam my love comes on by fits, and if you refuse me while it reigns up­on me, I Gad and all that you may go seek your Husband.

Dispute no more, to morrow is the day, till then I give you leave to think upon't.

Ha! that's more then I expected, this is sure a Rival, and [Page 8] one of the newest stamp, pox on this love I say, a man is never free from one danger or other; now am I in a great Quandary, whether I had best go forward or backward, if I go forward there's a Ri­val, if backward there goes a Coward, and to stand still is worst of all.

Sir what do you mean? Did you come out with an intent to see your Mistress, and stand disputing what you'd best to do.

Do, why what you would have me do? Did you not see a Rival with my Lady, and let me tell you there's danger in those Creatures, pox on 'em they are as common as Cuccolds, but not half so loving.

That's as they'r us'd, if they discover the least spark of fear, they'r valliant then as Lyons, but if you bear up Briskly, swear Neatly, and huff Compleatly, they sneak away, just like insipid Asses.

Nay if swearing and huffing would overcome, I think none dare pretend to have any courage but my self.

As for example, suppose you were my Rival, thus I come to you, Umh, Umh, Umh, Dam me Sir, you are an Insipid, Ex­communicated, Rascullian Son of a Whore, and my Rival.

Pox on your Rival ship, if this be the fruits on't, you may keep your Lady and be damn'd; was that Alamode to make fire fly out of both the eyes of a Gentleman?

I us'd you kindly in't, you should in answer to the affront, have drawn your Sword, and —

Run away I'le warrant you.

No Sir, fought him Gentilely, and with a decent thrust push'd his Soul into another World.

I marry Sir, that's a good way to be hang'd, and all that

Phu, I am asham'd of you, and your conversation, a Gen­tleman and be hang'd, 'twas never heard of, I knew a Squire af­ter he Cowardly had kill'd a Score, had leave to mak't up Forty, and you being a Knight, I hope you may have more power.

Say you so, nay if I may kill Cum privilegio, woe be to the next I meet, my anger's up, and murder will ensue; but to our business, suppose you were my Rival, thus I come up to you, [Page 9] Umh, Umh, Umh, Dam me Sir, you are an Insipid, Excommunica­ted, Rascallian Son of a Whore, and my Rival.

So this was well done, and like a lover.

Nay let me alone for huffing.

here comes something, now courage for me.

What mean you Sir?

Nothing, but to kill that Monster, I have sworn, and a Gentleman should not break his word.

But that's a woman Sir, a very old woman.

If she were a very old Devil I would kill her, my angers up, and murder will ensue.

Oh Lord Sir hold, put up your Sword Sir, I have not seen a naked thing of that length this forty years, help, help, mur­der, murder.

Pox of her old bones, could she not stand to be kil'd de­cently.

She thought 'twas better living Sir; but lets begon, her mumbling chaps will raise the streets upon us.

Withal my heart.

SCENE the City.

FOllow your Leader Rascals, this is the House, under­mine it first with a noise of vocal Musick, and then blow it up with a whirlwind of Fidling.

Sir, there's your Rival.

[Page 11]

Dam me Sir, you are an Insipid, Excommunicated, Rascal­lian Son of a Whore, and my Rival.

What my Quondam friend and noble acquaintance Sir Jasper Sympleton.

My Right Worshipful, and Pomathematical Bully, Sir Symon Credulous.

Cully Drayner.

Bully Slywit.

And how, and how is't? I Gad who thought to have seen you here? the last time we saw each other, I pawn'd you at the Rose for a Guinny, that little Debauch made a Divorce be­twixt us, and have I met thee here? —

but a Pox of your Ceremonious way of Greeting Bully, that slap was very severe to a friend.

A slight way of Complement to a Rival, but dear Rogue let me kiss thee, — I Gad I joy to see you. —

This is a Rival by his fawning, for I believe a Sicilian Rival, and an English Cuckold, are much of a Nature, both loving the man that most injures them. —

But Bully Sympleton what made you here so early, bin upon the Ramble I'le warrant you, and so came and paid your devoires to the Lady of your best affections.

Rot me, if I'm in love with any body but my Landress; these are only some of my flashes of Gallantry, to let the City know my merits; but what made you here Bully Credulous? To Court a Lady I dare swear.

By my honour no, an unlucky Horse of mine as I was riding to view the Country, stood still with me seven miles toge­ther, which forc't me to be beholding to the Gentleman of this House for a nights Lodging; This will do or nothing.—

But if ever I ride a tir'd Horse again, post me for a Cully.

This may be, but I Gad 'tis very impossible.

Zounds here comes my Lady, now dare I as well be hang'd as speak to her, for fear of having my threat cut. —

What a pox shall I do now? if I speak, I discover my af­fections, and create a Rival; and if I say nothing, I lose my Mistress. Oh valour, oh valour, what's become of you? —

Sir, why do you not speak to the Lady, she expects you. —

She may expect me if she pleases, but I think I shan't speak to her. —

Sir, are you not asham'd to stand gaping as if you had lost your speech?

I Gad I had better lose my speech, then lose my life: for if I speak to her, he'l speak to me, and above all things I hate an angry Rival.

Good Sir recollect your self, your Rival is an arrand Cow­ard, and dares not own before your face his love to Theocrine, and should you refuse to Court her now, she's lost for ever, —

forward Sir, forward, for shame. —

I Gad I'le venture too, Drayner get your Sword ready, and if my Rival offers to draw, dispatch him decently.

Honourable Madam.

Lovely Lady.

Most Aromatick Beauty.

Divine, Celestial, and Odoriferous Venus.

The glory of your presence, makes me stoop thus low to kiss your hand. —

The glory of your presence makes me bold to kiss your L — and so forth. —

What mean you Sir? —

Ay▪ what mean you Sir?

Nay, nay, no huffing Bully, no harm upon my honour Madam.

[Page 13]

You'r bold Sir, and intrude too far upon the priviledg my Father gave you; but that you are a stranger and a Gentleman, I should chastise the Insolence.

I would not lose the honour for a Kingdom, he's my Rival, and that's sufficient, hum, hum. —

Bully Credulous you are my friend, —

Give me your hand, meet me within this minute —

at the Tavern. —

Agreed. —

Madam your Servant, such sawcy actions must and shall be punished, farewell.

Your Servant Madam; if I fall, say you lost one who lov'd. —

The Coxcombs will not fight sure?

You need not fear it Madam, their Spirits are too dull for such brave Actions.

I do not much, yet something troubles me, and what it is I know not.

Love for Vanlore Madam; 'tis true, his vertues merit all your noble thoughts, but his mean fortunes so inrage your Father, I fear you'l ne're enjoy him.

Fathers are Cruel when they think they'r Kind, and more disturb our rest by forcing Love, then when they rob us of the Author of it.

Madam, a Messenger from Ardenna desires to speak with you.

Some news from Vanlore, now Heav'n I hope is kind.

SCENE Chamber Royal.

How full of fatal changes are our Lives, what is't to be a Monarch, and yet live to be a trembling at ev'ry breath of passion? thus when all my thoughts in the fair hopes were calm'd of Heroina's safe Arrival, then, even then to have 'em smother'd in this Cloud of curst Intelligence.

Your grief is yet but weak suspitions birth, and happily may prove abortive Sir.

Oh Glorianda, thou fain wouldst flatter me to comfort, but the malignity of sorrow can admit no Cordials; there, there,

unravel the black clew that led me into this dark Labyrinth of grief; and tell me then, if I have ever left hopes to escape this growing storm of Passion.

Sir th'information is most sad, if true.

Oh, 'tis too true, too true my Glorianda, devouring Seas have cous'ned our Embraces; but shall I lose her thus? Go ga­ther [Page 15] all those Ships that owe obedience to this life; and let their Squadrons scour the Seas untill you find her out, or else by all that's good, your lives, though an unworthy Sacrifice, shall fall an of­fering to her Fathers loss.

Thus only may your Enemies Encounter those Beames of sacred Majesty, that shine through you from the Sicilian Dia­dem.

Rise Oroandes, high in our love as wonder; thus joy en­counters grief, but is too weak for such a foe.

Why so much woman Glorianda? Thou but mispendest thy pity on an object, which if not remov'd, will soon Eclipse the brightness of our Stars. —

Go call the Priests of Mars and Pallas hither.

What might this Rage Portend?

Here take the Prisoners to your charge, and let those Ce­remonies be perform'd, by which the tainted blood of Sacrifices, are made Incense for the Gods; see 'em prepar'd ere the next Morning guilds the Earth.

Oh they are lost, for ever lost.

Is't Grief or Reverence that unnerves me thus? Oh my Soul — thou art too weak, too faintly weak, to move beneath the Chaos of these woes.

Now Oroandes I have time left to Embrace thee, and hug this Cabinet of vertues yet, I have not in all thy absence let thy goodness slide out of my thoughts, witness this Lady, in whose virgin breast, I've strove to plant thy worth.

Whither starts my degenerate Spirits? I was born free as Sicily's King, and though he is my Brother, sure I may be allow'd the freedom of my Choice. —

She weeps.

There's more in this then yet my thoughts can fathom, pardon La­dy my unbecoming rudeness, I have sorrows which like an evil Genius on my Soul sit cloth'd in sables, and obscure the light of your bright Glories.

SCENE a Tavern.

Pox this is better then fighting: What should a man of ho­nour that hath an Estate, and so forth, venture his life for? 'tis enough for poor pittiful little inconsiderate Rascals, that have no other dependency, but Murder and Hanging.

[Page 18]

True Bully, Pox of fighting I say, there's no sport in it, whoring and drinking I am for, but I hate fighting.

Come lets sit down then, Sirrah, some Wine, here's a health to my Lady, Madam Theocrine.

Done, I'le pledge it, and begin another; here's a health to my Lady, Madam Theocrine.

Is she your Lady then?

My Mistress Sir or so, if her Father may be believ'd, I thank him he has confir'd that honour on me.

Why Bully, she is my Mistress too, her self I thank her, con­fir'd that honour on me. —

Her self Sir?

Yes Sir, so I said, her self.

Nay Pox on't be not angry Bully, give me thy hand, let's drink away sorrow, and a Pox of Quarrelling.

Quarreling Sir, I scorn quarrelling as much as any man, but I hate to be abus'd.

Abus'd, and so do I, my Mistress is my Mistress, and so forth, and no Rival shall get her from me, I will fight for her in Verse.

And so will I, and I think for Poetry no man can outdo me.

Was ever seen two such inconsiderable Asses, men that have no more sence of honour then a Wood-cock; for my part though I as much abhor fighting as either, yet the fault in them ap­pears so odious, I hate my self for being such a Coward.

In London I durst be a Bully, when incompas'd with an host of Hectors, who have no more honour then courage, yet im­pudence enough to keep a man out of the honourable path of fighting; grinning Honour is as loathsome to 'em as a grinning Bay­liff, and they had rather kill themselves with Nautious Physick, then hazard the breathing of a vein in a just Quarrel.

It becomes neither you nor I to rail at Cowards, having so great a share in Cowardize, but rather to be patient and bear our sufferings (I mean our beatings) without noise, that the World may think us men of Wit and Prudence.

Since we came hither, Sir Jasper with his insufferable Im­pertinence, and his unreclaimable Arrogance, has brought me into [Page 19] at least sixteen Quarrels, of which the least had made us Mortal, had not I by my fawning and extream art in wheadling got clear, which makes me cry Pox of fighting, the very thought on't pro­claims me Mortus est.

I fear my life's at stake too, for my quarrelling Coward like a true Bully, Tanndy, always sneaks away and leaves me to Capi­tulate with the Enemy, or else Engage to fight, which neither of us have any stomach to.

For my part I commonly swear a Quarrel out, not fight it; or take a beating, though with an Oaken Cudgel. This tilting is more dangerous then Morbus Gallicus a dose of Mercury is; Heav'n to the point of a Sword.

By my Fathers Soul I've done, and without Ostentation, to as great a height, as — When the Sons of the Muses grew Nu­merous and loud, and so forth.

And by your favour I think I have done to a mighty height, and to a greater height then a Lampoon; I have done to the height of Allebabbela su, and so forth.

Thou hast a notable Paw for Scribling; but for Lampoon, Joak, Jest, Jear, and so forth, I have the Brain.

And I have a Brain too, but let that pass; to the verses, to the verses, come Bully lets hear the verses.

Divine —

— He has made an Angel of her already. Di­vine, — Oh horrid, there's an Epithte for a Lady, pray when did you hear that a Divine was a Lady, or of a divine Lady? ha, ha, ha.

Sir, 'tis a flight, and a great deal better then Diabolli­cal.

How do'st like 'em Bully?

[Page 20]

They are very rare, monstrous fair, and damnable de­spairing verses indeed, but is here all?

Yes and enough too, a man that writes sence should not write above three lines a day. Give me Premeditation, I say Pre­meditation, for that's the staff of Poetry.

But by your favour I think my Song here without Preme­ditation, is as good as your Divine Celestial and Soul Charming business. Bully, your Judgment.

I think if Wit, Sence and Judgment, be commendable in an Au­thor without Premeditation, I have it to excess.

But where's the business?

What business?

Why the Lady.

Pox of business and the Lady too, do I look like a man of business?

Then by my Fathers Soul you'r a dull senseless Rascal, and [Page 21] have no more Wit, then a Poetical Theif, for your Song is mere Nonsence.

I Gad who can help it? if it is Nonsence, it is Nonsence; but in my mind 'tis admirable good sence, you shall hear it again.

I'le have no more Reading of Songs, dull witless Songs, that have no more sence in 'em then I have.

Now has he spoil'd a Copy of the hopefullest Verses in Europe, and an Original too.

Here, here, are the lines, these are the moving lines, and so forth.

Yes they are moving lines, see how they flutter.

Villain you have abus'd Poetry it self, and I will be re­veng'd, I will have a Session of Poets shall damm thee Ibraimatti­cally, lead thee to School by the Nose and Chastise thy Inso­lence.

And I will have — your obliging and faithful Ser­vant to command, and so forth.

You are not going Sir, are you?

Yes to Challeng him, we Poets dare not fight, do you hear Bully, I hate to be abus'd, and so forth, meet me to mor­row.

Where?

Any where.

What hour?

Any hour.

The weapon?

What weapon you will.

I shall not fail.

Farewel. —

Is he gone?

Yes, and hath left you to pay the Reckoning,

'Tis no matter, it shall be the last I'le warrant you; to mor­row is the day,

SCENE the Temple.

[Page 23]

SCENE the Court.

You'l make all perfect by your being kind.

[Page 28]

SCENE a Wood.

Believe me Sir, 'tis true.

I fear him not, I am intollerable, this case of Steel makes me as free from wound, as if enchanted.

[Page 30]

Yet Sir there is a greater danger near, the Wood is lin'd with men in Arms, whom he hath hir'd, if you should be the Victor, to cut your throat; if he survive, to drag your Body to the Sea, and there intomb it, that your name and actions may be lost to future ages.

How! is he so great a Villain?

He Kil'd his Father, Ravish'd his Sister, Poys'ned the Great Turk, and has committed outrages innumerable.

Then I think it fit to forbear the honourable employment of fighting for this time, and go home, rather then stay to meet with these unavoidable dangers.

Sir I love you, and I cannot see so much vertue perish, fight him in spight of all, and at convenient time fall down; Sir Jasper imagining you are dead, will fly; behind the Castle waits your Fa­ther with Officers to seize him, and hurry him to Prison, to give you the more priviledg and uncontroul'd freeness to Marry his Daughter.

Can this be true?

Upon my honour Sir, my love to you forc'd me to be a Traytor to my Master, and relate this secret.

It shan't go unrewarded.

You won't walk long before my Mistress meet you, farewell.

Nay he has vow'd to kill you; your Armour were it more impregnable, the Mambrosia's Helmet, his Sword will find a pas­sage through.

Tell Sir Symon I am Arm'd all over: if Wine, Steel, and Impudence, are not enough t'oppose one single Hector, Rot me for a Wigeon; I am come with a fighting Resolution, and will not be appeas'd, tell this thy Master.

I'm sorry Sir you will not take my Counsel. Farewell.

Counsel when a man is come to fight for honour! here is the only counsel a Knight Errand ought to take —

A resolution thus fortified need not fear th' opposition of a single Arm.

How in Armour, Zounds this is hard, he is wall'd in as well as I am, and the Devil cannot kill him, drinking too, nay then Valor assist me.

Hold Sir, hold, a fair Capitulation before fighting is as good as Tent and Eggs before Matrimony. Are you dispos'd to fight?

Yes.

Then Sir begin.

You'l take the Law then, for most Cowards when they think they cannot overcome, either take that for Sanctuary, or pretend your Enemy is not Gentele enough to fight with a man of honour, and thus you Cowardly shun the danger of a fight.

Sir your affront's unsufferable, prepare.

Ha dead, nay then 'tis time to prepare for safety.

Fly Sir, fly, the Officers and Guards o'th' City, like blood-Hounds bend their Course this way, therefore begon or else expect to meet a shameful Death.

If this be honour, the Devil take fighting for me, grinning honour I defy thee. —

Let me but escape this time, and if ever you find me in the Bed of honour, the Field of danger again, hang me for a Woodcock.

So, thou art safe, now for the other.

I am not dead yet, thanks to my Case of Steel; how like an Ass Sympleton will look when he shall hear I have Married Ma­dam Theocrine, ha, ha, ha, —

ha, follow, follow, what means this?

Fly, fly Sir Symon, my Masters men are eager to find your Body, search up and down the Wood, under pretence of following the Murder, that they without the least suspition may convey it to the Sea.

Zounds I'm not dead yet, what's to be done in this case.

[Page 32]

Fly to the City Sir with expedition, there for a time shelter your self, till the noise of this fight be over, and Sir Jasper im­prisoned; then break out like the Sun slipping from behind a Cloud, and Comfort your Dear Lady.

Was ever Conquest easier gain'd, or Conquerour thus treated?

Now both shift for your selves, this noise has rais'd the Town, and 'twill be hard to 'scape the Inquisition.

SCENE a Tavern.

Follow, follow, follow, now the Devil follow you, can­not a man Conquer decently, but he must have those blood Hounds after him. Where am I?

Ha, in a Tavern, and amongst these grave Citizens, nay then with­out a great deal of impudence, I am lost for ever; that vertue now assist me,

So this is well, I'm taken for a Devil, and I hope I shall be, till I get home to my Lodging: Ha what's here? —

the figure of a man in Armor, then I'le make another, perhaps that way I may escape the search: by your leave Monster I must imitate you.

Confusion take you all for me, can a man of no honour be safe? this 'tis to pretend to fighting; I see there's more safety in being a Cowardly Gentleman, then to be an honourable Com­mander,

Ha! they are there, at the door, the very door by Heav'n, and I shall be in salve Custodius presently, what's here,

two in Armor, I Gad I'le make a third, that way or none I may [Page 33] escape the Inquisition.

What's the matter here I wonder, these Citizens are afraid of their own shadows, one runs this way crying a Devil, a Devil, a Devil, a second this, a third, a fourth, and a fifth this way, all running and roaring as if they were possest with a Devil indeed, a company of Cowardly Rascals, had they no more mony then va­lour I might properly say, they were Beggarly Cowards; ha there's a brace of Devils indeed, — in the name of — the Devil, the Devil, the Devil. —

Search the House, here they went in for certain, leave not one Room unlook'd in, while my Brother and I solace our selves with a Bottle of Wine, —

Come Brother, you and I, as we have participated in several Noctur­nal Dangers, and also shar'd the Profits, will steal so much time to share a Bottle, or so.

Withal my heart, and see how fortune blesses us, here is plenty of the thing we ask for: Brother a health to our happy suc­cess in finding out the Murderer.

Agreed.

Another health to the Gold which perhaps they will give us to blind our eyes.

Agreed.

And now here is another health to —

by my Staff of Office, what sawcy Rogue was that? he deserves pu­nishment from the hands of Justice, but 'tis no matter, we will drink each a Bottle, and that shall be to Majesty it self.

Ha what means this, we are Enchaunted sure.

[Page 34]

What, Bully Sympleton?

What Bully Credulous? are you alive still?

Yes, as sure as we are both Cowards; I see 'tis more dan­gerous for Gentlemen to fight, then for Church-wardens to rob the poor; we may be hang'd yet if we are taken.

For that trick, to avoid trouble, I'le go home, 'tis dark enough to keep suspition off.

And so will I,

SCENE the Temple.

Thou look'st too sadly Glorianda; though Funerals do at­tend the day, we'r not to wear the sables on our Souls.

My sadness Sir only proceeds from fear, how my frail tem­per may endure a sight so full of horror.

My Rage begins to melt, I could e'en wish they might sur­vive the rigor of their doom.

Must I see this and live? No Zannazarro, here's my Con­voy to thee.

So now Amasia, we have ended all our employments on the Earth: the wheels of Time worn on the road of Age, will lose their motions, ere we shall again meet in the Robes of flesh: Farewell,

[Page 36]

What horrid Prodigies are these? The Gods are sure grown angry with our Prayers.

I have bin long attendant on these Powers, yet never saw the Gods thus mov'd before.

They'r sure displeas'd with Offerings so Pure, or else some hidden Charms unknown to us hath wrought this Miracle.

Here, here lies the guilt of our impieties; 'tis I deserve the utmost of your rage.

Ha! Oroandes what damm'd Imposture's this?

The argument of Mercy from the Gods emboldens me to seek the like from you. My violent passions forc'd my love into strange labyrinths of attempts; but what I first trembling with guilt did undertake, these Miracles have prov'd Legitimate. When Amasia into the inmost Room was of the Temple brought, resolv'd to bear her from the Rigor of her doom, I had thither in private first convey'd my self, attending on the hour when the Priest with his sad charge should enter, which arriv'd, I that came there to offer Sacriledg saw my self ordain'd the Instrument of Heaven, to free her from the hands of a fowl Ravisher.

This dreadful story strikes trembling Earthquakes through­out all my Limbs.

That this is true, witness those Powers which own'd that cause, which I (though rashly) undertook.

Pardon me ye Diviner Powers, — I have been too neg­lective of the charge you gave me, but will redeem it in my future Zeal: that Villains blood forc'd out by Tortures, shall begin the Purple Deluge.

I must forget those Crimes, Heav'n hath been pleas'd freely to for­give; rise higher in our favour then was that exalted Story from whence your Father fell.

Mountains of grief fall from my burthen'd Soul in their de­livery; but your Soverain Mercy must either with one Cordial more relieve my sickly hopes, or I am lost for ever.

Thy actions speak thy wishes — Here Oroandes take from my hand this gift from Heav'n, she's thine by their decree.

Ere your extended Mercy shall contract it's liberal hand, let [Page 37] me be happy in the full fruition of my joys; my love to Glorianda, though long smother'd in my fates security, must now break out.

Thy thoughts arrive cloth'd in the Robes of joy: Rise Zannazarro — Imbrace in her thy happiness.

Now all your Seas are calm'd, only my Barque still stands in op­position 'gainst the wave,

SCENE the Sicilian Plaines.

SCENE Arratus Lodgings.

So thus far I'm right, and all my plots thrive equal with my wishes; I have perswaded Sir Symon, Sir Jasper's in Prison, and that I have got Theocrines consent to Celebrate the Marriage this Morn­ing; a Bride I have provided, and such a one as (Heav'n knows) are too common in this Age, a debauch'd Chamber-maid, one as fit for Sir Jasper's humour, as a Taylor for a Cowcumber; he pro­mis'd to meet me here, but has not kept his word, I hope he has not found the cheat, but here he comes.

Hast hast to the Temple Sir, you'l lose your Mistress else; within a Room behind the Altar waits a Priest, and all things are in readiness.

But —

[Page 39]

But me no Buts, but get you gone I say; delay a minute and you'r undone for ever.

So he's gone▪ and I within this hour shall be reveng'd at full: how sweet those actions are, when we project for Guinnies. By this time Drayner's ready with his Mask to entertain'em; and if that and Sir Jasper's Wife make not Matrimony odious, I'le never plot again.

SCENE the Temple.

This is the day, Son, makes us happy, you in the hopes of such a vertuous Wife, and I to see both Married. And Daugh­ter (since your duty speaks you so) I hope this joyful day will Crown your Loves, and add Eternal Comforts to your Lives. Lead to the Altar.

Are they gone?

Was ever Marriage so crost, they'r all gone, and have left me no­thing to keep me Company, but a guilty Conscience; Oh the hor­ror of it strikes me dead; Murder is the sin Committed, and I the only Actor! Oh Vanlore, could I recall thy Soul, I willingly would give my Daughter to you to satisfie the injuries I did you, but 'tis in vain, the Bloody deed is done, I shall grow mad, my Son and Daughter and my Wits are lost, lost past Redemption,

SCENE a Plane.

Meet me at Nine behind the Hermits Rock. I have not mist in either Circumstance, unless my hast Anticipated Time —

[Page 41] It yet is not full Nine.

Oroandes you are now a Loyal Subject.

All my Ambitions ne're flew higher, Sir, then in that Regi­on of your thoughts to thrive.

There it was grown to full Maturity: But I must like wanton Nero either Ruin all the Glorious Structure of thy hopes, or live Impris'ned in thy Loyalty: thy Life (till now my strongest fortress) is become the fatal Engine of my Ruin.

Heav'n! what have I done to merit this?

Nothing but bin too Vertuous, and by that center'd af­fections which I must remove, or shake thee into Chaos.

This Language blasts me, sure I have no sin pond'rous enough to buoy your Veng'ance up. Did I but think one Viper Lodg'd in my remotest part, I'de tear each Fibre of my heart, to find the Monster out, and in my blood Imbalm'd throw it as far as Lifes short span can reach. But Heav'n my witness is no flame of Zeal, but has bin your's i'th' second Magnitude; my Vows of Kin to those I pay'd the Gods, my Prayers but Love and Duty fir'd into a holy Calenture.

Thy Vertue fathoms not my debt of Guilt; such a pre­vention of my Anger, would only change the active passion for sorrow as insupportable: those Characters which must uphold the sables of my Soul, are in dark Hieroglyphicks hid, through which thy strength of Judgment cannot pierce.

You speak in misty wonders Sir, such as lead my apprehen­sion into wild Meanders.

This will unriddle all our doubts, — draw.

Against my Soveraign! an Act so wicked would retort the guilty steel into my breast: fear never yet Marbled a Cowards heart more then Obedience mine.

Will you deny when I Command?

Pardon me Royal Sir, I would bestride a Cloud with Lightning Charg'd in's full Carreer, affront a Thunderbolt, leap into the Clefts of Earthquakes, or attempt to prop the Ruines of a falling Rock,

Are my attempts priz'd at so weak a rate? wears not my [Page 42] Sword a danger on its poynt as well as thine? — Draw — or I shall conclude 'tis fear, not Loyalty, that Charms thy hand, which speaks thy Soul a Traytor.

This stirs my blood, were you a private man that only had his better Genius to defend him, and though Ally'd to me by all the tyes of Nature, and of Friendship, yet being thus far urg'd, our Swords long since had shown whose Stars had brightest Influence.

I have unfetter'd all those legal bonds. Draw — for thy denying now but slights my power.

Before I fall, or stand less fortunate, to see you overthrew, Oh let me know what Fate, what Cruel Fate has Rob'd me of the Trea­sure of your Love.

And must such goodness die? Know noble Youth, I am so far from calling it desert in thee, that hath unsheath'd my Sword, that in this midnight storm of fancy I can shed some drops of Pitty too. I come not rashly to attempt thy life, but long have struggled with my hot desires, stood fiery Tryals of temptations. I am diseas'd, and know no way to health but through a deluge of thy blood, — there is a cause.

Dear Sir reveal it, that e're I fall, my penitential tears may cleanse my Soul from such a Leprous Crime.

Alas brave Youth, thy thought's white as the Robes of An­gels are, I know thy Love to fair Amasia inseperable, as goodness from a Deity, yet I must deprive thee of this Darling of thy Soul.

With pardon Royal Sir, I cannot think the Cyprian Prin­cess is so soon forgot, with whom Amasia Sir compar'd is nothing.

Darst thou affect her, yet dispraise a Beauty that in its Orb contracts Divinity? This Prophanation what had else bin sin will render Meritorious, — Guard thy Life.

What have I done?

The Business that we met for, now we are friends again, friends until Death.

Oh do not faint, call up your spirits Sir, there's hopes of Life.

My Vital Powers fail, my Eyes are bowing to Eternal night.

[Page 43]

And I grow wild with Horror, — milder then a Flame pro­vok'd by angry Winds; what shall I do, or whither shall I flie, to leave behind me this pursuing Guilt?

Oh, Oh, — be gone, be gone my Oroandes, some Company draws near. Maist thou live long and happily in the Em­braces of her whom I unjustly strove to have: my dying wishes wait upon your joys.

Oh, Oh, Oh.

— What noise is that?

SCENE the Court.

How sad a change is this! This morning was appointed for more joyful Enterviews.

When last nights slumber rob'd our wakeful hopes of the delicious births of fancy, 'twas with fairer promises: Amasia, I fain would comfort thee, but my own griefs make me a stranger to that balmy Language.

Dear Sister, thy Passions are too violent; the Messengers are not yet all return'd, nor have we seen Arratus.

And here he comes.

My Lord, you either come to share in Grief with us, or ease ours by some blest discovery.

My Lord, my Son, my Daughter, and my —

Peace, no more, mix not theirs with a Sov'raigns loss, whose least drop of Blood is worth a Thousand Lives, speak thy intel­ligence.

[Page 45]

My Largest lies within the City walls, and there he has not yet bin heard of; is none with him?

Yes, Oroandes,

here comes our last hopes, speak thy success.

Not good my Lord, we've travest all the Fields that Cir­cles lofty Erix, and yet see no beam of blest Intelligence; all we found worthy to fix an Observation on, was a place beneath the Hermits Rock all stain'd with store of Blood, and near the foot this token of our Grief.

Oh my Prophetick fears!

Our sorrows are confirm'd!

They are in Bloody Characters!

I'le go and secure the Cittadel, and cry Treason.

Sorrow out-grows all my Resolves, this is an Act so full of Horror 'tis terrible to name it; but if the Force of Syracuse can scourge the Traytors,

SCENE the Plaines.

I'VE now got strength enough to render to you the fair preserver of my Life; my Spirits stir, as if they would shake off the sluggish weight of weakness.

How much in ev'ry twinkling of the eye doth he resem­ble my Heroick Love.

You'r sad sweet Lady.

I have a Cause, and such a one, that did you know, your Goodness would Commiserate my wretched Fortune.

Reveal it Lady, I perhaps may be inabled then to dissi­pate your Griefs.

I was resolv'd to weep away my Time in private sorrow; but discovery cannot aggravate my woe; besides I may venture to [Page 46] lodge a secret, where I have found such temperate vertues. I'le only with this Question Usher in my own discovery; is Sicily your place of Birth, or not?

It is, and Breeding both.

I will not ask what were the Parentage, where I find Ver­tues plant Nobility, yet would be loath to a Plebeian breast to trust what I must now divulge.

You may be confident I am a Gentleman, as well by Birth as Education, Lady.

I do presume it Sir, and therefore wish of all I now re­main amongst to be known unto you alone. You never had Relation to the Court?

There was my Breeding Lady.

Near the Person of the King?

One of his Bed-Chamber, and 'tis no boast to say, as well belov'd by him as any, there being in th' opinion of the Court, a near Resemblance of our looks.

Then sure my name is not a stranger to you, have you not heard Sir of the Cyprian Princess.

The Beautious Heroina.

The wretched Heroina, such I'm sure is my condition in my present State.

Pardon the Child of Ignorance, my wild, and unbecoming Rudeness.

Rise Sir, we are Companions yet; and hope we shall be till your Royal Master possess what was long since intended his. By what Disaster, I was cast upon this dreadful Precipice of Danger, as we are walking I'le Relate.

A prize, a prize, a noble prize, seize you upon that pretty Shepherdess, while I dispatch the Guardian.

'Tis not so quickly done, and though as yet unable to de­fend, hither I'le fly for Rescue.

Now I'm prepar'd to scourge your sawcy Insolence.

[Page 47]

This was a timely Rescue, and has by the fair Redemption of my Honour bound me to give you thanks.

I merit none; my Duty urg'd me to preserve that Life which they strove thus to Ravish. The brightest Stars that Rul'd my Fate, did light me to this blest Employment; but had all set, e're their Influence had attain'd its end, had not this Gentlemans assistance lent new Vigor to their fading Beams.

I must confess a debt of thanks to him, which if Irregu­lar Humanity prove no Rebel to my safety, shall be suddainly dis­charg'd: Let this Villain attend us to the Court, there you'l find a Prince to be intreated, when your Advocate bears Heroina's name. I can forgive, and so I hope can you, although his Crimes merit a lasting punishment.

Pardon me best of Women, and impute

my Rudeness to my Ignorance. If any Service can Extenuate Crimes of such Monstrous Growth, my Blood shall pay the forfeit of my disobedience.

Your hopes of safety prompts me to believe you: Come Sir, you and that Gentleman shall attend me to the Court.

We are your Vassals Madam, proud to have such a Com­mand to Usher our desires.

And you Sir.

SCENE a Tavern. A Table, Pen Ink and Paper in it.

Come, come along Sir, is't not enough to kill an ho­nourable Gentleman, but you must Lampoon him when you've done, and wound his fame in Verse.

Dam-me if ever I writ a Verse in my Life, or any thing like it, alas I have no more wit then a Goose, and writing's as dis­agreeable [Page 48] to my Nature, as Hanging: I must confess I have often had an Itching mind to Poetry, but could never obtain it.

And what makes your name Sir, crowded on the Title Page of several Plays in splendid Characters, as if that Ostentati­on did proclaim thee a man of wit and merit?

I see you are Ignorant of the English Customes; their men of Wit and Sence inclin'd to Poetry, have such a little share in the Worlds Treasure, their works and them alike go both a begging, and scarce a morning but we Easie-men (who rather then our lives would be accounted the Zanies of the Age) are troubled with their Visits, where for a Guinny we purchase the Labour of three Months, and then by our Authority, with the Acting Females (who do at upon us Gallants of the Times) the Play in our name's Acted, and by Consequence, 'cause all the World should be ac­quainted with our Folly (which we think Wit) some Greedy Bookseller pays dear for the Copy, and by his means 'tis Usher'd into th' World; those Dedications writ by us (small Criticks) never are honour'd by a Noble Patroness, tending to down right rayling at the Age, or finding fault perhaps with the best Poets.

This makes you Guilty of the last Lampoon, in which you have not only abus'd him who never was a Poet, but all the Po­ets of the Age; and therefore if you give us not (in the be­half of our dead Friend) sufficient satisfaction, you die im­mediately.

This 'tis to pretend to Poetry in a strange Country: I Gad in London, a man of Nonsence is as safe (amongst the Crue of Criticks) as in a Hollands Leaguer, for they are more given to the Spirit of Contradiction, then that of Fighting.

Come Sir, dispatch, we are in hast.

So am I to be gone.

Swear Sir.

Swear what?

Either you did, or did not write the Verses.

I vow to Gad, and all that, I am Innocent.

That's but a weak Oath, and shows too must of Cow­ardize to gain belief, swear me a full mouth'd Oath like a true Englishman.

[Page 49]

Then on the Vertue of a Gentleman, and Honour of Sir Symon Credulous, I am not Guilty.

Honour and Vertue are two mighty strangers to an Igno­ble breast; I cannot in the least Imagine they are lodg'd in your's. Come Gentlemen, here's Pen Ink and Paper, write ev'ry Letter that we shall command you, or die in disobeying.

Was ever poor Pretended led by the Nose before? Ho­nour begone, to save my Life I'le do it; we are ready Sir.

Write this then, — I am a Coward.

All the World knows that already, it needs no publica­tion.

Write I Command you.

I am a Coward. —

An Arrand stinking Coward.

An Arrand stinking Coward. —

A Poetical Thief.

Not I by Heav'n.

Write I say.

A —

And a damm'd Son of a Whore, if ever I writ these Verses.

And a —

All this I Gad is true Gentlemen, have you done?

Not yet Sir, one word more, and I do here promise to receive into my Arms, the Lady yesterday Married, to have and to hold, for better for worse, and so forth, with a promise to make her a Jointure of Three Hundred a Year; to keep (and never to part with) her, as being a Match only fit for me — Jasper Sympleton.

So this is well. And now Gentlemen, 'cause you shall be eas'd of all your fears and miseries, all disputations 'twixt you two must cease; the Lady, the Beautious Lady Theocrine by Nuptial tye is yours, and as your Wife receive her.

Withal my heart, now you have plaid the part of honest men, welcome into my Arms.

Pray Heav'n you find us so, do you know me Sir?

What Drayner, Servant to my Rival Sir Symon Credulous, nay then I fear the worst.

I am the honest man you talk of Sir, and 'cause you shall not dwell in Ignorance too long, behold whom you have Married.

Cheated, Gul'd, abus'd by Heav'n; have I Married this Chamber-maid?

This Chamber-woman you have Sir, I was a Maid until you made me otherwise; and afterwards you would perswade me to have bin as false as Dunkirk, and in one hour have received English, Dutch, French, and abus'd them all; but you see the Fates decreed it otherwise, I am now your Wife.

The Devil shall be mine as soon; go home to your old Office, keep the Door, and let in ev'ry paultry Knight or Squire, that gives a Guinny and a Kiss for Entrance, who being slighted by your Peevish Lady, falls foul on you, as being loath to lose th' Imagination of Enjoyment, though with her meanest Servants.

Good Bully Sympleton, how like an Ass you look now, I must confess you have such a smart way of Courtship, such taking Charms, such sweet Devices, no Woman can hold out. Wish you much Joy Sir. Gad Drayner let's serenade him with the second part to the same Tune.

How do you like it Bully, Ha?

[Page 51]

Come, come Sir, be patient, you are now a Knight Ala­mode, a Courtier of the Fashion, for scarce one of them but Marry some Debauch'd Lady or other, and count it happiness if but three Nations have enjoy'd her; and this Pasty is of your own Cutting up, and no doubt will prove a Vertuous Wife.

A Vertuous Devil she may: Pox of the Sex in general, and in particular thee: farewel Wife, farewel Bully; mayst thou Love on, till thou Reelst like a Drunken Dutchman, and in that Hu­mour Commit Adultery with some Gotish Citizen, till the hot Pestilence of Pleasure sink thee into another World.

Stay Sir, stay, I have your hand here to confirm a Con­tract, which I give up to Julia, and here I vow by all those Plagues you heap'd upon her head, to kill you instantly, unless you take her to your Arms.

Why this to your friend Drayner? Pox you' [...] a man of Wit, and Merit, and I know have more discretion, then to Bubble your Obliging Friend and Servant.

I am resolv'd nothing shall stop my fury; take her, or —

Pox on ye, come, had I Courage enough to die, I would be hang'd before I'de have a Chamber-maid.

A Chamber-maid, Ha, Ha, Ha; give me thy hand Symple­ton, give you much joy, a Chamber-maid, Ha.

Well, well Sir, let nothing trouble you, my Chamber-maid may be a Lady as soon as your Lordship.

Give you much joy, I say no more Bully, but now I hope I may Court my Mistress without the trouble of Poetising, Drink­ing, or Whoring, Ha, Bully Sympleton.

You may Sir, but she's Married.

The Devil she is, to whom?

A Shepherd Sir, one poor but honest, and such a one as Nature only made equal in Graces to compare with her, won by her prayers and tears; I stole her hence, and gave her to a faithful Shepherd, who was her Conduct to him.

S'death am I gold by Shepherds? the base Slaves shall die: who was the Principal?

One though unfortunate, may boast himself a Souldier [Page 52] and a Gentleman, one whom she thought was Dead, the worthy Vinbore.

A very honest fellow I Gad, and one I love extreamly, though I never saw him; he shall enjoy her, my blessing wait up­on him, that is, continual Love, and want of Women Kind, light on him.

There, there are the Murderers, seize on 'em all; if they refuse, knock'em down, we have the Law on our sides.

Draw Gentlemen, they b [...]e the sight of a Sword.

Not I by Heav'n.

Not I by Jove; what Draw against a Constable?

What Brother Constable, are you here?

Keep off Sir, how came you to be my Brother?

When you were hot upon the search for my Master, this Gentlemans Murderer, I to secure his Person which might casu­ally fall into your hands, and to create a Jest, disguis'd my self into the shape of an Officer, and coming into your Company, I carried you to the Tavern, where both the Murderer and Mur­ther'd stood like Images, and to maintain the Jest, I appear'd as fearful as your Worship, giving the first start at what I knew so well, Sir Symon Credulous in Armor.

What Sly, my subtle serving-man?

The same Sir, born to bring you out of these dangerous troubles.

Was there no Ghost in the Tavern then?

None I assure you, unless these Gentlemen are Devils.

Oh dishonour to our Office, and stain to this staff of Dig­nity, seize upon 'em all, I'le teach you to abuse Authority, you are as wicked as Players, who make no more of a Constable, then of a Cobler.

The Cause you seize us for's so means we scorn to stand against it, — here we all yield our selves, do what you can, or dare.

Nay now you are Civil Gentlemen, and wer't not that I have another Warrant, which is too great to disobey, I'de give you all your Liberties; the King is lost, and 'tis to be suppos'd Murther'd, [Page 53] upon which I have Order to secure ev'ry suspitious Person▪

How the King lost?

And Murder'd!

Oh Horror!

Nay now we may be hang'd indeed, but sure the King had more wit then to die of his own accord, 'tis mear Treason by Jove.

It can't be les [...], therefore Gentlemen till news comes of our Soveraign, this Tavern shall be your Goal, to no worse place I'le carry you.

I Gad thou art the merriest Constable in Europe; come along Brother Traytors, Madam Sympleton you are a Conspirator too, come along Boys:

SCENE the Court.

The best of welcomes this sad place affords wait on your Grace's Entertainment.

I thank you Sir, but must first Employ your service in de­claring, what these silent Emblems of a sorrow means?

Wilt please you Madam, lend your attention to the sad­dest Story that e're did yet Seicilia's Annals Blot;

Behold great Princess, all but the memory of the living fame of Sy­racusias Monarch.

[Page 54]

Help, help the Princess.

Madam, dear Madam.

Oh, Oh, Oh.

Bear her forth, and give her more Air.

Hold, I am better here; if any thing revive my Spirits, 'twill be this that puts me in mind of my deceased Lord. Why stand you thus amaz'd?

Pardon us Madam; had the united dust of some dead friend, whose memories ne're forgot, visited Earth in his own shape again, our wonder could not have arriv'd unto a higher Pitch. Let me Embrace thee friend.

Stand off, yet farther off, — you know not what you touch; you safer far may grapple with a flame; or in his midnight walks, affront a friend arm'd with full Vials of destructive wrath: the Graves Inhabitants, when folded in Corruption, are not more defil'd then I.

What tends this Language to?

Destruction, Zannazarro.

How hast thou lost thy Temper Oroandes, prithee look on me friend, am I grown a stranger to thy knowledg?

Leave me Amasia, thou art of kin unto those hollow'd An­gels that did once attend my Actions, and must now with them a stranger to thy Oroandes grow.

You are to me a stranger Sir, yet in your looks something I read, that may concern your absent Prince.

I do, and would Relate it, but that it hath a sound so full of horror, I tremble to Relate it; yet I must, no other way can lead my Soul out of this wilderness of flesh; he's Murther'd.

How?

By whom?

By me, do ve start? 'twas I, 'twas I, that when your blooming hope chear'd with the Sun of Majesty, were grown big with expected favours, did Eclipse the Glorious Light in a Black Cloud of Death; I cut the heart-strings of the Land, and fed the Groaning Land with Blood, whose Purple had bin by an Ancient Stock of Ancestors dy'd into Royalty.

Ingrateful Slave, why are our Swords so slow to Execute the Villain?

[Page 55]

Oh hold, believe him not, he Raves.

Thou hast but injur'd me Amasia, in staying their just fury.

Oh Brother if this be true, thou hast undone us all.

True, do not think this any Natural Distemper, that spreads this Malignant Vapour through my Veins, which nought but the Poison of my Guilt Corrupts; yes I have done it Brother, and you are all bound, as you love your Prince, to see't Reveng'd with Torments; here's a Note will when I'm dead, direct you where to find him.

And now I've done my Business on the Earth, I'le give the first stroke to Revenge, and here open a passage for your Swords to Enter.

What bold hand is that?

One that here may claim a priviledg.

Rise thou true Mirror of all Royalty, ne're higher in our favour.

Our Gracious Soveraign!

Welcome, Oh welcome Royal Sir.

You are all my much lov'd Subjects, such in whom never was King more Blest; Madam your presence Crowns our Joys, now I stand Exalted in the Zenith of my Fate; who would not pass a Stormy Night, to be thus Courted by a Glorious Day? You all are sharers in my heart, but thou my Love

the chief Commandress of that Royal Fort.

My Joys are now Compleated, and I find a Sea of Plea­sure Crowns my Dangers past; what those were, at your leisure I'le Relate.

I should chide you, but 'tis no time to wear an angry brow, although the Crime was monstrous,, to hier two wicked Slaves to Murder Vanlore, who then lay Leaguer at Ardenna, but by Miracle preserv'd, to save mine and Heroina's Life, for which all he desires, is your free Consent to Marry Theocrine.

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My Lord he has it and I Joy to hear his Life was sav'd to Act [...] brave a [...]eed, Rise and receive my Blessing, you are a worthy So [...].

To add a Title to that Honour, I here Create him [...] you Oroandes to a Place of greater worth, and nearer to our [...], thy Loyal [...] merrits it.

Long live Ante [...] and Heroina, King and Queen of Scicily.

My Debts are great to all, but must remain in full Ar­rears until my Off'rings pa [...]'d to [...]air Heroina give me liberty: