Fragmenta Aurea.A Co …

Fragmenta Aurea.

A Collection of all THE Incomparable Peeces,

WRITTEN By Sir JOHN SVCKLING.

And published by a Friend to perpetuate his memory.

Printed by his owne Copies.

LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Signe of the Prin­ces Armes in S t Pauls Churchyard MDCXLVI.

Obijt anno

Aetatis suae 28.

SUCKLIN whose numbers could invite
Alike to wonder and delight
And with new spirit did inspire
The Thespian Scene and Delphick Lyre;
Is thus exprest in either part
Above the humble reach of art;
Drawne by the Pencill here yow find
His Forme▪ by his owne Pen his mind.

W. Marshall fecit.

[...]

To the READER.

WHile Sucklins name is in the forehead of this Booke, these Poems can want no preparation: It had been a prejudice to Posterity they should have slept longer, and an injury to his own ashes. They that convers'd with him alive, and truly, (under which notion I comprehend only knowing Gentle­men, his soule being transcendent, and incommunicable to others, but by re­flection) will honour these posthume [Page] Idaea's of their friend: And if any have liv'd in so much darknesse, as not to have knowne so great an Ornament of our Age, by looking upon these Remaines with Civility and Vnder­standing, they may timely yet repent, and be forgiven.

In this Age of Paper-prostituti­ons, a man may buy the reputation of some Authors into the price of their Volume; but know, the Name that leadeth into this Elysium, is sacred to Art and Honour, and no man that is not excellent in both, is qualified a Competent Judge: For when Know­ledg is allowed, yet Education in the Censure of a Gentleman, requires as many descents, as goes to make one; And he that is bold upon his unequall Stock, to traduce this Name, or Lear­ning, will deserve to be condemned a­gaine [Page] into Ignorance his Originall sinne, and dye in it.

But I keep backe the Ingenuous Reader, by my unworthy Preface: The gate is open, and thy soulé invi­ted to a Garden of ravishing variety, admire his wit, that created these for thy delight, while I withdraw into a shade, and contemplate who must follow.

POEMS, &c.

Written by Sir JOHN SUCKLING.

Printed by his owne Copy.

The Lyrick Poems were set in Musick by Mr. Henry Lawes, Gent. of the Kings Chappel, and one of His Majesties Private Musick.

LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Mosely, and are to be sold at his shop at the signe of the Princes Arms in S. Pauls Church-yard. 1646.

On New-years day 1640. To the KING.

1.
AWake (great Sir) the Sun shines heer,
Gives all Your Subjects a New-yeer,
Onely we stay till you appear,
For thus by us Your Power is understood,
He may make fair days, You must make them good.
Awake, awake,
and take
Such Presents as poor men can make,
They can adde little unto blisse
who cannot wish.
2.
May no ill vapour cloud the skie,
Bold storms invade the Soveraigntie,
But gales of joy, so fresh, so high;
That You may think Heav'n sent to try this year
What sayl, or burthen, a Kings mind could bear.
Awake, awake, &c.
3.
May all the discords in Your State
(Like those in Musick we create)
Be govern'd at so wise a rate,
That what would of it self sound harsh, or fright,
May be so temper'd that it may delight.
Awake, awake, &c.
4.
What Conquerors from battels find,
Or Lovers when their Doves are kind,
Take up henceforth our Masters mind,
Make such strange Rapes upon the place, 't may be
No longer joy there, but an extasie.
Awake, awake, &c.
5.
May every pleasure and delight
That has or does your sence invite
Double this year, save those o'th night:
For such a Marriage-bed must know no more
Then repetition of what was before.
Awake, awake,
and take
Such Presents as poor men can make,
They can add little unto blisse
who cannot wish.

Loving and Beloved.

1.
THere never yet was honest man
That ever drove the trade of love;
It is impossible, nor can
Integrity our ends promove:
[...]or Kings and Lovers are alike in this
That their chief art in reigne dissembling is.
2.
Here we are lov'd, and there we love,
Good nature now and passion strive
Which of the two should be above,
And laws unto the other give.
o we false fire with art sometimes discover,
[...]nd the true fire with the same art do cover.
3.
What Rack can Fancy find so high?
Here we must Court, and here ingage,
Though in the other place we die.
Oh! 'tis torture all, and cozenage;
And which the harder is I cannot tell,
To hide true love, or make false love look well.
4.
Since it is thus, God of desire,
Give me my honesty again,
And take thy brands back, and thy fire;
I'me weary of the State I'me in:
[Page 6] Since (if the very best should now befal)
Loves Triumph, must be Honours Funeral.
1.
IF when Don Cupids dart
Doth wound a heart,
we hide our grief
and shun relief;
The smart increaseth on that score;
For wounds unsearcht but ranckle more.
2.
Then if we whine, look pale,
And tell our tale,
men are in pain
for us again;
So, neither speaking doth become
The Lovers state, nor being dumb.
3.
When this I do descry,
Then thus think I,
love is the fart
of every heart.
It pains a man when 't is kept close,
And others doth offend, when 't is let loose.

A Sessions of the Poets.

A Session was held the other day▪
And Apollo himself was at it (they say)
The Laurel that had been so long reserv'd,
Was now to be given to him best deserv'd.
And
Therefore the wits of the Town came thither,
T was strange to see how they flocked together,
Each strongly confident of his own way,
Thought to gain the Laurel away that day.
There Selden, and he sate hard by the chair;
Weniman not far off, which was very fair;
Sands with Townsend, for they kept no order;
Digby and Shillingsworth a little further:
And
There was Lucans Translator too, and he
That makes God speak so bigge in's Poetry;
Selwin and Walter, and Bartlets both the brothers;
Jack Vaughan and Porter, and divers others.
The first that broke silence was good old Ben,
Prepar'd before with Canary wine,
And he told them plainly he deserv'd the Bayes,
For his were calld Works, where others were but Plaies.
And
Bid them remember how he had purg'd the Stage
Of errors, that had lasted many an Age,
And he hopes they did not think the silent Woman,
The Fox, and the Alchymist out done by no man.
Apollo stopt him there, and bade him not go on,
'Twas merit, he said, and not presumption
Must carry't; at which Ben turned about,
And in great choler offer'd to go out:
But
Those that were there thought it not fit
To discontent so ancient a wit;
And therefore Apollo call'd him back agen,
And made him mine host of his own new Inne.
Tom Carew was next, but he had a fault
That would not well stand with a Laureat;
His Muse was hard bound, and th'issue of's brain
Was seldom brought forth but with trouble and pain.
And
All that were present there did agree,
A Laureat Muse should be easie and free,
Yet sure 'twas not that, but 'twas thought that his Grace
Consider'd he was well he had a Cup-bearers place.
Will. Davenant asham'd of a foolish mischance
That he had got lately travelling in France,
Modestly hoped the handsomnesse of's Muse
Might any deformity about him excuse.
And
Surely the Company would have been content,
If they could have found any President;
But in all their Records either in Verse or Prose,
There was not one Laureat without a nose.
To Will Bartlet sure all the wits meant well,
But first they would see how his snow would sell:
Will smil'd and swore in their judgements they went lesse,
That concluded of merit upon successe.
Suddenly taking his place agen,
He gave way to Selwin, who streight stept in;
But alas! he had been so lately a wit,
That Apollo hardly knew him yet.
Toby Mathews (pox on him) how came he there?
Was whispering nothing in some-bodies ear:
When he had the honour to be nam'd in Court,
But Sir, you may thank my Lady Carleil for't:
For had not her care furnisht you out
With something of handsome, without all doubt
You and your sorry Lady Muse had been
In the number of those that were not let in.
In haste from the Court two or three came in,
And they brought letters (forsooth) from the Queen,
'Twas discreetly done too, for if th'had come
Without them, th'had scarce been let into the room.
Suckling next was call'd, but did not appear,
But strait one whisperd Apollo i'th 'ear,
That of all men living he cared not for't,
He loved not the Muses so well as his sport;
And prized black eyes, or a lucky hit
At bowls, above all the Trophies of wit;
But Apollo was angry, and publiquely said
'Twere fit that a fine were set upon's head.
Wat Montague now stood forth to his tryal,
And did not so much as suspect a denial;
But witty Apollo asked him first of all
If he understood his own Pastoral.
For if he could do it, 't would plainly appear
He understood more than any man there,
And did merit the Bayes above all the rest,
But the Mounsier was modest, and silence confest.
During these troubles in the Court was hid
One that Apollo soon mist, little Cid;
And having spied him, call'd him out of the throng,
And advis'd him in his ear not to write so strong.
Murrey was summon'd, but 't was urg'd that he
Was Chief already of another Company.
Hales set by himself most gravely did smile
To see them about nothing keep such a coil;
Apollo had spied him, but knowing his mind
Past by, and call'd Faulkland that sate just behind:
But
He was of late so gone with Divinity,
That he had almost forgot his Poetry,
Though to say the truth (and Apollo did know it)
He might have been both his Priest and his Poet.
At length who but an Alderman did appear,
At which Will. Davenant began to swear;
But wiser Apollo bade him draw nigher,
And when he was mounted a little higher
Openly declared that the best signe
Of good store of wit 's to have good store of coyn,
And without a Syllable more or lesse said,
He put the Laurel on the Aldermans head.
At this all the wits were in such a maze
That for a good while they did nothing but gaze
[Page 11] One upon another, not a man in the place
But had discontent writ in great in his face.
Onely the small Poets clear'd up again,
Out of hope as 't was thought of borrowing,
But sure they were out▪ for he forfeits his Crown
When he lends any Poets about the Town.

Loves World.

IN each mans heart that doth begin
To love, there's ever fram'd within
A little world, for so I found,
When first my passion reason drown'd.
Earth,
Instead of Earth unto this frame,
I had a faith was still the same,
For to be right it doth behoove
It be as that, fixt and not move;
Yet as the Earth may sometime shake
(For winds shut up will cause a quake)
So, often jealousie, and fear,
Sunne,
Stolne into mine, cause tremblings there.
My Flora was my Sun, for as
One Sun, so but one Flora was:
All other faces borrowed hence
Their light and grace, as stars do thence.
Moon
My hopes I call my Moon; for they
Inconstant still, were at no stay;
[Page 12] But as my Sun inclin'd to me,
Or more or lesse were sure to be:
Sometimes it would be full, and then
Oh! too too soon decrease agen;
Eclip'st sometimes, that 't would so fall
There would appear no hope at all.
Starres,
My thoughts 'cause infinite they be
Must be those many Stars we see;
Fixed Planets.
Of which some wandred at their will,
But most on her were fixed still.
Element of fire.
My burning flame and hot desire
Must be the Element of fire,
Which hath as yet so secret been
That it as that was never seen:
No Kitching fire, nor eating flame,
But innocent, hot but in name;
A fire that's starv'd when fed, and gone
When too much fewel is laid on.
But as it plainly doth appear,
That fire subsists by being near
The Moons bright Orbe, so I beleeve
Ours doth, for hope keeps love alive.
Ayre.
My fancy was the Ayre, most free
And full of mutability,
Big with Chimera's, vapours here
Innumerable hatcht as there.
Sea.
The Sea's my mind, which calm would be
Were it from winds (my passions) free;
[Page 13] But out alas! no Sea I find
Is troubled like a Lovers mind.
Within it Rocks and Shallows be,
Despair and fond credulity.
But in this World it were good reason
We did distinguish Time and Season;
Her presence then did make the Day,
And Night shall come when shee's away.
Winter.
Long absence in far distant place
Creates the Winter, and the space
She tarryed with me; well I might
Summer.
Call it my Summer of delight.
Diversity of weather came
From what she did, and thence had name;
Somtimes sh'would smile, that made it fair;
And when she laught, the Sun shin'd clear.
Sometimes sh'would frown, and sometimes weep,
So Clouds and Rain their turns do keep;
Sometimes again sh'would be all ice,
Extreamly cold, extreamly nice.
But soft my Muse, the world is wide,
And all at once was not descride:
It may fall out some honest Lover
The rest hereafter will discover.

Song.

WHy so pale and wan fond Lover?
prethee why so pale?
Will, when looking wel can't move her
looking ill prevail?
prethee why so pale?
Why so dull and mute young sinner?
prethee why so mute?
Will▪ when speaking well can't win her,
saying nothing doe't?
prethee why so mute?
Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
this cannot take her;
If of her self she will not love,
nothing can make her:
the divel take her.

Sonnet. I.

1.
DO'st see how unregarded now
that piece of beauty passes?
There was a time when I did vow
to that alone;
but mark the fate of faces;
That red and white works now no more on me
Then if it could not charm or I not see.
2.
And yet the face continues good,
and I have still desires,
Am still the self same flesh and blood,
as apt to melt
and suffer from those fires;
Oh! some kind power unriddle where it lies,
Whether my heart be faulty, or her eyes?
3.
She every day her Man does kill,
and I as often die;
Neither her power then, nor my will
can question'd be,
what is the mystery?
Sure Beauties Empires, like to greater States
Have certain periods set, and hidden fates.

Sonnet. II.

1.
OF thee (kind boy) I ask no red and white
to make up my delight,
no odd becomming graces,
Black eyes, or little know-not-whats, in faces;
Make me but mad enough, give me good store
Of Love, for her I Court,
I ask no more,
▪Tis love in love that makes the sport.
2.
There's no such thing as that we beauty call,
it is meer cousenage all;
for though some long ago
Like't certain colours mingled so and so,
That doth not tie me now from chusing new,
If I a fancy take
To black and blue,
That fancy doth it beauty make.
3.
Tis not the meat, but 'tis the appetite
makes eating a delight,
and if I like one dish
More then another, that a Pheasant is;
What in our watches, that in us is found,
So to the height and nick
We up be wound,
No matter by what hand or trick.

Sonnet III.

1.
OH! for some honest Lovers ghost,
Some kind unbodied post
Sent from the shades below.
I strangely long to know
Whether the nobler Chaplets wear,
Those that their mistresse scorn did bear,
Or those that were us'd kindly.
2.
For what-so-e're they tell us here
To make those sufferings dear,
'Twill there I fear be found,
That to the being crown'd,
T'have lov'd alone will not suffice,
Unlesse we also have been wise,
And have our Loves enjoy'd.
3.
What posture can we think him in,
That here unlov'd agen
Departs, and's thither gone
Where each sits by his own?
Or how can that Elizium be
Where I my Mistresse still must see
Circled in others Armes?
4.
For there the Judges all are just,
And Sophonisba must
Be his whom she held dear;
Not his who lov'd her here:
The sweet Philoclea since she dy'de
Lies by her Pirocles his side,
Not by Amphialus.
5.
Some Bayes (perchance) or Myrtle bough
For difference crowns the brow
Of those kind souls that were
The noble Martyrs here;
And if that be the onely odds
(As who can tell) ye kinder Gods,
Give me the Woman here.

To his much honoured, the Lord Le­pinton, upon his Translation of Malvezzi his Romulus and Tarquin.

IT is so rare and new a thing to see
Ought that belongs to young Nobility
In print (but their own clothes) that we must praise
You as we would do those first shew the waies
To Arts or to new Worlds: You have begun;
Taught travel'd youth what'tis it should have done:
For't has indeed too strong a custome bin
To carry out more wit then we bring in.
You have done otherwise, brought home (my Lord)
The choisest things fam'd Countries do afford▪
Malvezzi by your means is English grown,
And speaks our tongue as well now as his own.
Malvezzi, he: whom 'tis as hard to praise
To merit, as to imitate his waies.
He does not shew us Rome great suddenly,
As if the Empire were a Tympany,
But gives it natural growth, tells how, and why
The little body grew so large and high.
Describes each thing so lively, that we are
Concern'd our selves before we are aware:
And at the wars they and their neighbours wag'd,
Each man is present still, and still engag'd.
Like a good Prospective he strangely brings
Things distant to us: and in these two Kings
[Page 19] We see what made greatnesse. And what 't has been
Made that greatnesse contemptible again.
And all this not tediously deriv'd,
But like to Worlds in little Maps contriv'd.
'Tis he that doth the Roman Dame restore,
Makes Lucrece chaster for her being whore;
Gives her a kind Revenge for Tarquins sin;
For ravish't first, she ravisheth again.
She says such fine things after't, that we must
In spite of vertue thank foul Rape and Lust,
Since't was the cause no woman would have had,
Though she's of Lucrece side, Tarquin lesse bad.
But stay; like one that thinks to bring his friend
A mile or two, and sees the journeys end,
I straggle on too far: long graces do
But keep good stomacks off that would fall too.

Against Fruition.

STay here fond youth and ask no more, be wise,
Knowing too much long since lost Paradise;
The vertuous joyes thou hast, thou would'st should still
Last in their pride; and would'st not take it ill
If rudely from sweet dreams (and for a toy)
Tho'wert wak't? he wakes himself that does enjoy.
Fruition adds no new wealth, but destroyes,
And while it pleaseth much the palate, cloyes;
Who thinks he shall be happyer for that,
As reasonably might hope he might grow fat
[Page 20] By eating to a Surfet, this once past,
What relishes? even kisses loose their tast.
Urge not 'tis necessary, alas! we know
The homeliest thing which mankind does is so;
The World is of a vast extent we see,
And must be peopled; Children there must be;
So must bread too; but since there are enough
Born to the drudgery, what need we plough?
Women enjoy'd (what e're before t'have been)
Are like Romances read, or sights once seen:
Fruition's dull, and spoils the Play much more
Than if one read or knew the plot before;
'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear,
Heaven were not heaven, if we knew what it were.
And as in Prospects we are there pleas'd most
Where somthing keeps the eye from being lost,
And leaves us room to guesse, so here restraint
Holds up delight, that with excesse would faint.
They who know all the wealth they have, are poor,
Hee's onely rich that cannot tell his store.
1.
THere never yet was woman made,
nor shall, but to be curst;
And oh▪ that I (fond I) should first
of any Lover
This truth at my own charge to other fools discover.
2.
You that have promis'd to your selves
propriety in love,
Know womens hearts like straws do move,
and what we call
Their sympathy, is but love to jett in general,
3.
All mankind are alike to them;
and though we iron find
That never with a Loadstone joyn'd,
'tis not the irons fault,
It is because the loadstone yet was never brought.
4.
If where a gentle Bee hath fall'n
and laboured to his power,
A new succeeds not to that Flower,
but passes by;
'Tis to be thought, the gallant else-where loads his thigh.
5.
For still the flowers ready stand,
one buzzes round about,
One lights, one tasts, gets in, gets out
all, all waies use them,
Till all their sweets are gone, and all again refuse them.

Song.

1.
NO, no, fair Heretick, it needs must be
But an ill love in me,
And worse for thee;
For were it in my power,
To love thee now this hower
More then I did the last;
I would then so fall
I might not love at all;
Love that can flow, and can admit increase,
Admits as well an ebbe, and may grow lesse.
2.
True Love is still the same; the Torrid Zones,
And those more frigid ones
It must not know:
For love grown cold or hot,
Is lust, or friendship, not
The thing we have.
For that's a flame would dye
Held down, or up too high:
Then think I love more then I can expresse,
And would love more could I but love thee lesse.

To my Friend Will. Davenant; upon his Poem of Madagascar.

WHat mighty Princes Poets are? those things
The great ones stick at, and our very Kings
Lay down, they venter on; and with great ease,
Discover, conquer, what, and where they please.
Some Flegmatick Sea-Captain, would have staid
For money now, or victuals; not have waid
Anchor without 'em; Thou (Will) do'st not stay
So much as for a wind, but go'st away,
Land'st, view'st the Country; fight'st, put'st all to rout,
Before another could be putting out!
And now the news in Town is; Dav'nant's come
From Madagascar, Fraught with Laurel home;
And welcom (Will) for the first time, but prithee
In thy next Voyage, bring the gold too with thee.

To my Friend Will. Davenant on his other Poems.

THou hast redeem'd us, Wil. and future Times
Shall not account unto the Age's crimes
Dearth of pure wit: since the great Lord of it
(Donne) parted hence, no Man has ever writ
So neer him, in's own way: I would commend
Particulars, but then, how should I end
Without a Volume? Ev'ry line of thine
Would ask (to praise it right) twenty of mine.
1.
LOve, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak
Three mates to play at barley-break;
Love, Folly took; and Reason, Fancy;
And Hate consorts with Pride; so dance they:
Love coupled last, and so it fell
That Love and Folly were in hell.
2.
They break, and Love would Reason meet,
But Hate was nimbler on her feet;
Fancy looks for Pride, and thither
Hyes, and they two hugge together:
Yet this new coupling still doth tell
That Love and Folly were in hell.
3.
The rest do break again, and Pride
Hath now got Reason on her side;
Hate and Fancy meet, and stand
Untoucht by Love in Folly's hand;
Folly was dull, but Love ran well,
So Love and Folly were in hell.

Song.

1.
I Prethee spare me, gentle Boy,
Presse me no more for that slight toy,
That foolish trifle of an heart,
I swear it will not do its part,
Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy power and art.
2.
For through long custom it has known
The little secrets, and is grown
Sullen and wise, will have its will,
And like old Hawks pursues that still
That makes least sport, flies onely where 't can kill.
3.
Some youth that has not made his story,
Will think perchance the pain's the glory;
And mannerly sit out Loves Feast;
I shall be carving of the best,
Rudely call for the last course 'fore the rest.
4.
And oh! when once that course is past,
How short a time the Feast doth last;
Men rise away, and scarce say grace,
Or civilly once thank the face
That did invite; but seek another place.

Ʋpon my Lady Carliles walking in Hampton-Court garden.

Dialogue. T. C. I. S.
Thom.
DIdst thou not find the place inspir'd,
And flow'rs as if they had desir'd
No other Sun, start from their beds,
And for a sight steal out their heads?
Heardst thou not musick when she talk't?
And didst not find that as she walkt
She threw rare perfumes all about
Such as bean▪blossoms newly out,
Or chafed spices give?—
J. S.
I must confesse those perfumes
(Tom)
I did not smell; nor found that from
Her passing by, ought sprung up new,
The flow'rs had all their birth from you;
For I pass't o're the self same walk,
And did not find one single stalk
Of any thing that was to bring
This unknown after after spring.
Thom.
Dull and insensible, could'st see
A thing so near a Deity
[Page 27] Move up and down, and feel no change?
J. S.
None, and so great, were alike strange,
I had my Thoughts, but not your way,
All are not born (Sir) to the Bay;
Alas! Tom, I am flesh and blood,
And was consulting how I could
In spite of masks and hoods descry
The parts deni'd unto the eye;
I was undoing all she wore,
And had she walkt but one turn more,
Eve in her first state had not been
More naked, or more plainly seen.
Thom.
'T was well for thee she left the place,
There is great danger in that face;
But had'st thou view'd her legg and thigh,
And upon that discovery
Search't after parts that are more dear
(As Fancy seldom stops so near)
No time or age had ever seen
So lost a thing as thou hadst been.

To Mr. Davenant for Absence.

WOnder not if I stay not here,
Hurt Lovers (like to wounded Deer)
Must shift the place▪ for standing still
Leaves too much time to know our ill:
Where there is a Traytor eye
That lets in from th'enemy
[Page 28] All that may supplant an heart,
'Tis time the Chief should use some Art;
Who parts the object from the sence,
Wisely cuts off intelligence.
O how quickly men must die,
Should they stand all Loves Battery;
Persindaes eyes great mischief do,
So do we know the Canon too;
But men are safe at distance still,
Where they reach not, they cannot kill.
Love is a fit, and soon is past,
Ill dyet onely makes it last;
Who is still looking, gazing ever,
Drinks wine i'th' very height o'th' Fever.

Against Absence.

MY whining Lover, what needs all
These vows of life Monastical?
Despairs, retirements, jealousies,
Aud subtile sealing up of eyes?
Come, come, be wise; return again,
A finger burnt's as great a pain;
And the same Physick, self same art
Cures that, would cure a flaming heart:
Would'st thou whilst yet the fire is in
But hold it to the fire again.
If you (Dear Sir) the plague have got,
What matter is't whether or not
They let you in the same house lie,
Or carry you abroad to die?
He whom the plague, or Love once takes,
Every Room a Pest-House makes.
[Page 29] Absence were good if't were but sence
That onely holds th'Intelligence:
Pure love alone no hurt would do,
But love is love, and magick too;
Brings a mistresse a thousand miles,
And the sleight of looks beguiles,
Makes her entertain thee there,
And the same time your Rival here;
And (oh! the divel) that she should
Say finer things now then she would;
So nobly Fancy doth supply
What the dull sence lets fall and die.
Beauty like mans old enemy's known
To tempt him most when hee's alone:
The ayre of some wild o'regrown wood,
Or pathlesse Grove is the Boyes food.
Return then back, and feed thine eye,
Feed all thy sences, and feast high.
Spare dyet is the cause Love lasts,
For Surfets sooner kill than Fasts.

A Supplement of an imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. Wil. Shakespears, By the Author.

1.
ONe of her hands, one of her cheeks lay under,
Cozening the pillow of a lawful kisse,
Which therefore swel'd, and seem'd to part asunder,
As angry to be rob'd of such a blisse:
The one lookt pale, and for revenge did long,
While t'other blusht, cause it had done the wrong.
2.
Out of the bed the other fair hand was
On a green sattin quilt, whose perfect white
Lookt like a Dazie in a field of grasse,
Thus far Shake­spear.
*And shew'd like unmelt snow unto the sight,
There lay this pretty perdue, safe to keep
The rest oth' body that lay fast asleep.
3.
Her eyes (and therefore it was night) close laid,
Strove to imprison beauty till the morn,
But yet the doors were of such fine stuffe made,
That it broke through, and shew'd it self in scorn.
Throwing a kind of light about the place,
which turnd to smiles stil as't came near her face.
4.
Her beams (which some dul men call'd hair) divided
Part with her cheeks, part with her lips did sport,
But these, as rude, her breath put by still; some
Wiselyer downwards sought, but falling short,
Curl'd back in rings, and seem'd to turn agen
To bite the part so unkindly held them in.
THat none beguiled be by times quick flowing,
Lovers have in their hearts a clock still going;
For though Time be nimble, his motions are quicker
and thicker
where Love hath his notions:
[Page 31] Hope is the main spring on which moves desire,
And these do the lesse wheels, fear, joy, inspire;
the ballance is thought, evermore clicking
and striking,
and ne're giving ore
Occasions the hand which still's moving round,
Till by it the Critical hour may be found,
And when that falls out, it will strike kisses,
strange blisses,
and what you best like.
1.
TIs now since I sate down before
That foolish Fort, a heart;
(Time strangely spent) a Year, and more,
And still I did my part:
2.
Made my approaches, from her hand
Unto her lip did rise,
And did already understand
The language of her eyes.
3.
Proceeded on with no lesse Art,
My Tongue was Engineer;
I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.
4.
When this did nothing, I brought down
Great Canon-oaths, and shot
A thousand thousand to the Town,
And still it yeelded not.
5.
I then resolv'd to starve the place
By cutting off all kisses,
Praysing and gazing on her face,
And all such little blisses.
6.
To draw her out, and from her strength,
I drew all batteries in:
And brought my self to lie at length
As if no siege had been.
7.
When I had done what man could do,
And thought the place mine owne,
The Enemy lay quiet too,
And smil'd at all was done.
8.
I sent to know from whence, and where,
These hopes, and this relief?
A Spie inform'd, Honour was there,
And did command in chief.
9.
March, march (quoth I) the word straight give,
Lets lose no time, but leave her:
That Giant upon ayre will live,
And hold it out for ever.
10.
To such a place our Camp remove
As will no siege abide;
I hate a fool that starves her Love
Onely to feed her pride.

Ʋpon my Lord Brohalls Wedding.

Dialogue. S. B.
S.
IN bed dull man?
When Love and Hymens Revels are begun,
And the Chnrch Ceremonis past and done.
B.
Why who's gone mad to day?
S.
Dull Heretick, thou wouldst say,
He that is gone to Heaven's gone astray;
Brohall our gallant friend
Is gone to Church as Martyrs to the fire:
Who marry differ but i'th'end,
Since both do take
The hardest way to what they most desire:
Nor staid he till the formal Priest had done,
But ere that part was finisht, his begun:
Which did reveal
The hast and eagernesse men have to seal
That long to tell the money.
A sprigg of Willow in his hat he wore,
(The loosers badge and liv'ry heretofore)
[Page 34] But now so ordered that it might be taken
By lookers on, forsaking as forsaken.
And now and then
A careles smile broke forth, which spoke his mind,
And seem'd to say she might have been more kind.
When this (dear Jack) I saw
Thought I
How weak is Lovers Law?
The bonds made there (like gypsies knots) with ease
Are fast and loose, as they that hold them please.
But was the fair Nymphs praise or power lesse
That led him captive now to happinesse?
'Cause she did not a forreign aid despise,
But enterr'd breaches made by others eyes:
The Gods forbid,
There must be some to shoot and batter down,
Others to force and to take in the Town.
To Hawkes (good Jack) and hearts
There may
Be sev'ral waies and Arts;
One watches them perchance, and makes them tame:
Another, when they're ready, shews them game.
Sir,
WHether these lines do find you out,
Putting or clearing of a doubt;
(Whether Predestination,
Or reconciling three in one,
Or the unriddling how men die,
And live at once eternally,
Now take you up) know 'tis decreed
You straight bestride the Colledge Steed:
[Page 35] Leave Socinus and the Schoolmen,
(Which Jack Bond swears do but fool men)
And come to Town; 'tis fit you show
Your self abroad, that men may know
(What e're some learned men have guest)
That Oracles are not yet ceas't:
There you shall find the wit, and wine
Flowing alike, and both divine:
Dishes, with names not known in books,
And lesse amongst the Colledge-Cooks,
With sauce so pregnant that you need
Not stay till hunger bids you feed.
The sweat of learned Johnsons brain,
And gentle Shakespear's eas'er strain,
A hackney-coach conveys you to,
In spite of all that rain can do:
And for your eighteen pence you sit
The Lord and Judge of all fresh wit.
News in one day as much w'have here
As serves all Windsor for a year,
And which the Carrier brings to you,
After 't has here been found not true.
Then think what Company's design'd
To meet you here, men so refin'd,
Their very common talk at boord,
Makes wise, or mad a young Court-Lord,
And makes him capable to be
Umpire in's Fathers Company.
Where no disputes nor forc't defence
Of a mans person for his sence
Take up the time; all strive to be
Masters of truth, as victory:
And where you come, I'de boldly swear
A Synod might as eas'ly erre.

Against Fruition.

FYe upon hearts that burn with mutual fire;
I hate two minds that breath but one desire:
Were I to curse th'unhallow'd sort of men,
I'de wish them to love, and be lov'd agen.
Love's a Camelion, that lives on meer ayre;
And surfets when it comes to grosser fare:
'Tis petty Jealousies, and little fears,
Hopes joyn'd with doubts, and joyes with April tears,
That crowns our Love with pleasures: these are gone
When once we come to full Fruition.
Like waking in a morning, when all night
Our fancy hath been fed with true delight.
Oh! what a stroke't would be! Sure I should die,
Should I but hear my mistresse once say, I.
That monster expectation feeds too high
For any Woman e're to satisfie:
And no brave Spirit ever car'd for that
Which in Down-beds with ease he could come at.
Shee's but an honest whore that yeelds, although
She be as cold as ice, as pure as snow:
He that enjoys her hath no more to say
But keep us Fasting if you'l have us pray.
Then fairest Mistresse, hold the power you have,
By still denying what we still do crave:
In keeping us in hopes strange things to see
That never were, nor are, nor e're shall be.

A Ballade.
Ʋpon a Wedding.

I Tell thee Dick where I have been,
Where I the rarest things have seen;
Oh things without compare!
Such sights again cannot be found
In any place on English ground,
Be it at Wake, or Fair.
At Charing-Crosse, hard by the way
Where we (thou know'st) do sell our Hay,
There is a house with stairs;
And there did I see comming down
Such folk as are not in our Town,
Vorty at least, in Pairs.
Amongst the rest, one Pest'lent fine,
(His beard no bigger though then thine)
Walkt on before the rest:
Our Landlord looks like nothing to him:
The King (God blesse him) 'twould undo him,
Should he go still so drest.
At Course-a-Park, without all doubt,
He should have first been taken out
By all the Maids i'th' Town:
Though lusty Roger there had been,
Or little George upon the Green,
Or Vincent of the Crown.
But wot you what? the youth was going
To make an end of all his woing;
The Parson for him staid:
Yet by his leave (for all his haste)
He did not so much wish all past,
(Perchance) as did the maid.
The maid (and thereby hangs a tale)
For such a maid no Whitson-ale
Could ever yet produce:
No Grape that's kindly ripe, could be
So round, so plump, so soft as she,
Nor half so full of Juyce.
Her finger was so small, the Ring
Would not stay on which they did bring,
It was too wide a Peck:
And to say truth (for out it must)
It lookt like the great Collar (just)
About our young Colts neck.
Her feet beneath her Petticoat,
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they fear'd the light:
But oh! she dances such a way!
No Sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.
He would have kist her once or twice,
But she would not, she was nice,
She would not do't in sight,
And then she lookt as who should say
I will do what I list to day;
And you shall do't at night.
Her Cheeks so rare a white was on,
No Dazy makes comparison,
(Who sees them is undone)
[Page 39] For streaks of red were mingled there,
Such as are on a Katherne Pear,
(The side that's next the Sun.)
Her lips were red, and one was thin,
Compar'd to that was next her chin;
(Some Bee had stung it newly.)
But (Dick) her eyes so guard her face;
I durst no more upon them gaze,
Then on the Sun in July.
Her mouth so small when she does speak,
Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break,
That they might passage get,
But she so handled still the matter,
They came as good as ours, or better,
And are not spent a whit.
If wishing should be any sin,
The Parson himself had guilty bin;
(She lookt that day so purely,)
And did the youth so oft the feat
At night, as some did in conceit,
It would have spoil'd him, surely.
Just in the nick the Cook knockt thrice,
And all the waiters in a trice
His summons did obey,
Each serving man with dish in hand,
Marcht boldly up, like our Train'd Band,
Presented, and away.
When all the meat was on the Table▪
What man of knife, or teeth, was able
To stay to be intreated?
And this the very reason was,
Before the Parson could say Grace,
The Company was seated.
The bus'nesse of the Kitchin's great,
For it is fit that men should eat;
Nor was it there deni'd:
Passion oh me! how I run on!
There's that that would be thought upon,
(I trow) besides the Bride.
Now hatts fly off, and youths carrouse;
Healths first go round, and then the house,
The Brides came thick and thick:
And when 'twas nam'd anothers health,
Perhaps he made it hers by stealth.
(And who could help it? Dick)
O'th' sodain up they rise and dance;
Then sit again and sigh, and glance:
Then dance again and kisse:
Thus sev'ral waies the time did passe,
Till ev'ry Woman wisht her place,
And ev'ry Man wisht his.
By this time all were stoln aside
To counsel and undresse the Bride;
But that he must not know:
But yet 'twas thought he ghest her mind,
And did not mean to stay behind
Above an hour or so.
When in he came (Dick) there she lay
Like new-faln snow melting away,
('Twas time I trow to part)
Kisses were now the onely stay,
Which soon she gave, as who would say,
Good Boy! with all my heart.
But just as heav'ns would have to crosse it,
In came the Bridemaids with the Posset:
The Bridegroom eat in spight;
[Page 41] For had he left the Women to't
It would have cost two hours to do't,
Which were too much that night.
At length the candles out and out,
All that they had not done, they do't:
What that is, who can tell?
But I beleeve it was no more
Then thou and I have done before
With Bridget, and with Nell.
MY dearest Rival, least our Love
Should with excentrique motion move,
Before it learn to go astray,
Wee'l teach and set it in a way,
And such directions give unto't,
That it shall never wander foot.
Know first then, we will serve as true
For one poor smile, as we would do
If we had what our higher flame,
Or our vainer wish could frame.
Impossible shall be our hope;
And Love shall onely have his scope
To joyn with Fancy now and then,
And think what reason would condemn:
And on these grounds wee'l love as true,
As if they were most sure t'ensue:
And chastly for these things wee'l stay,
As if to morrow were the day.
Mean time we two will teach our hearts
In Loves burdens bear their parts:
Thou first shall sigh, and say shee's fair;
And I'le still answer, past compare.
[Page 42] Thou shalt set out each part o'th face,
While I extol each little grace;
Thou shalt be ravisht at her wit;
And I, that she so governs it:
Thou shalt like well that hand, that eye,
That lip, that look, that majesty;
And in good language them adore:
While I want words, and do it more.
Yea we will sit and sigh a while,
And with soft thoughts some time beguil;
But straight again break out and praise
All we had done before new-waies.
Thus will we do till paler death
Come with a warrant for our breath,
And then whose fate shall be to die
First of us two, by Legacy
Shall all his store bequeath, and give
His love to him that shall survive;
For no one stock can ever serve
To love so much as shee'l deserve.

Song.

1.
HOnest Lover whosoever,
If in all thy love there ever
Was one wav'ring thought, if thy flame
Were not still even, still the same:
Know this,
Thou lov'st amisse,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
2.
If when she appears i'th' room,
Thou dost not quake, and art struck dumb,
And in striving this to cover
Dost not speak thy words twice over,
Know this,
Thou lov'st amisse,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
3.
If fondly thou dost not mistake,
And all defects for graces take▪
Perswad'st thy self that jeasts are broken,
When she hath little or nothing spoken,
Know this,
Thou lov'st amisse,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
4.
If when thou appear'st to be within,
Thou lett'st not men ask and ask agen,
And when thou answer'st, if it be
To what was askt thee properly,
Know this,
Thou lov'st amisse,
And to love true
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
5.
If when thy stomack calls to eat,
Thou cutt'st not fingers 'steed of meat,
And with much gazing on her face
Dost not rise hungry from the place,
Know this,
Thou lov'st amisse,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.
6.
If by this thou dost discover
That thou art no perfect Lover,
And desiring to love true▪
Thou dost begin to love anew:
Know this,
Thou lov'st amisse,
And to love true,
Thou must begin again, and love anew.

Ʋpon two Sisters.

BEleev't yong Man, I can as eas'ly tell
How many yards and inches 'tis to hell;
Unriddle all predestination,
Or the nice points we now dispute upon,
Had the three Goddesses been just as fair,
It had not been so easily decided
And sure the apple must have been divided:
It must, it must; hee's impudent, dares say
Which is the handsomer till one's away.
And it was necessary it should be so;
Wise Nature did foresee it, and did know
When she had fram'd the Eldest, that each heart
Must at the first sight feel the blind-god's dart:
And sure as can be, had she made but one,
No plague had been more sure destruction;
For we had lik't, lov'd, burnt to ashes too,
In half the time that we are chusing now:
Variety, and equal objects make
The busie eye still doubtful which to take;
This lip, this hand, this foot, this eye, this face,
The others body, gesture, or her grace:
And whilst we thus dispute which of the two,
We unresolv'd go out, and nothing do.
He sure is happy'st that has hopes of either,
Next him is he that sees them both together.

To his Rival.

NOw we have taught our Love to know
That it must creep where't cannot go▪
And be for once content to live,
Since here it cannot have to thrive;
It will not be amisse t'enquire
What fuel should maintain this fire:
For fires do either flame too high,
Or where they cannot flame, they die.
First then (my half but better heart)
Know this must wholy be her part;
(For thou and I, like Clocks, are wound
Up to the height, and must move round)
She then by still denying what
We fondly crave, shall such a rate
Set on each trifle, that a kisse
Shall come to be the utmost blisse.
Where sparks and fire do meet with tinder,
Those sparks meer fire will still engender:
To make this good, no debt shall be
From service or fidelity;
For she shall ever pay that score,
By onely bidding us do more:
So (though she still a niggard be)
In graceing, where none's due, shee's free:
The favors she shall cast on us,
(Least we should grow presumptuous)
Shall not with too much love be shown,
Nor yet the common way still done;
But ev'ry smile and little glance
Shall look half lent, and half by chance:
[Page 47] The Ribbon, Fan, or Muffe that she
Would should be kept by thee or me,
Should not be giv'n before to many,
But neither thrown to's when there's any;
So that her self should doubtful be
Whether 'twere fortune flung't, or she.
She shall not like the thing we do
Sometimes, and yet shall like it too;
Nor any notice take at all
Of what, we gone, she would extol:
Love she shall feed, but fear to nourish,
For where fear is, love cannot flourish;
Yet live it must, nay must and shall,
While Desdemona is at all:
But when shee's gone, then Love shall die,
And in her grave buried lie.

Farewel to Love.

1.
WEll shadow'd Landskip, fare-ye-well:
How I have lov'd you, none can tell,
At least so well
As he that now hates more
Then e're he lov'd before.
2.
But my dear nothings, take your leave,
No longer must you me deceive,
Since I perceive
All the deceit, and know
Whence the mistake did grow.
3.
As he whose quicker eye doth trace
A false star shot to a mark't place,
Do's run apace,
And thinking it to catch,
A gelly up do's snatch.
4.
So our dull souls tasting delight
Far off, by sence, and appetite,
Think that is right
And real good; when yet
'Tis but the Counterfeit.
5.
Oh! how I glory now▪ that I
Have made this new discovery!
Each wanton eye
Enflam'd before: no more
Will I encrease that score.
6.
If I gaze, now, 'tis but to see
What manner of deaths-head 'twill be,
When it is free
From that fresh upper skin;
The gazers Joy, and sin.
7.
The Gun and glist'ning which with art
And studi'd method, in each part
Hangs down the heart,
Looks (just) as if, that day
Snails there had crawl'd the Hay.
8.
The Locks, that curl'd o're each eare be,
Hang like two Master-worms to me,
That (as we see)
Have tasted to the rest
Two holes, where they lik't best.
9.
A quick coarse me-thinks I spy
In ev'ry woman; and mine eye,
At passing by,
Check, and is troubled, just
As if it rose from Dust.
10.
They mortifie, not heighten me:
These of my sins the Glasses be:
And here I see
How I have lov'd before.
And so I love no more.
FINIS.
LETTERS To divers Em …

LETTERS To divers Eminent PERSONAGES: Written on several Occasions,

By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.

Printed by his owne Copy.

LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the signe of the Princes Arms in S. Pauls Church-yard. 1646.

FOrtune and Love have ever been so incompatible, that it is no wonder (Madam) if having had so much of the one for you, I have ever found so little of the other for my self; Comming to Town (and having rid as if I had brought intelligence of a new-landed Enemy to the State) I find you gone the day before, and with you (Madam) all that is considerable upon the place; for though you have left behind you, faces whose beauties might well excuse perjury in others, yet in me they cannot, since to the ma­king that no sin, Loves Casuists have most ratio­nally resolved, that she for whom we forsake, ought to be handsomer then the forsaken, which would be here impossible: So that now a gallerie hung with Titians or Vandikes hand, and a chamber filled with living Excellence, are the same things to me; and the use that I shall make of that Sex now, will be no other then that which the wiser sort of Catholiques do of Pictures; at the high­est, they but serve to raise my devotion to you: Should a great Beauty now resolve to take me in (as that is all they think belongs to it) with the Artillery of her eyes, it would be as vain, as for a [Page 54] Thief to set upon a new robd passenger; You Ma­dam) have my heart already, nor can you use it unkindly but with some injustice, since (besides that it left a good service to wait on you) it was never known to stay so long, or so willingly be­fore with any; After all, the wages will not be high; for it hath been brought up under Plato­nicks, and knows no other way of being paid for service, then by being commanded more; which truth when you doubt, you have but to send to its master and

Your humble Servant, J. S.

A disswasion from Love.

Jack,

THough your disease be in the number of those that are better cured with time then precept, yet since it is lawful for every man to practise upon them that are forsaken and given over (which I take to be your state) I will adven­ture to prescribe to you; and of the innocence of the Physick you shall not need to doubt, since I can assure you I take it daily my self.

To begin Methodically, I should enjoyn you Travel; for Absence doth in a kind remove the cause (removing the object) and answers the Physitians first Recipez, vomiting and purging; but this would be too harsh, and indeed not agree­ing [Page 55] to my way. I therefore advise you to see her as often as you can, for (besides that the rarity of visits endears them) this may bring you to sur­prise her, and to discover little defects, which though they cure not absolutely, yet they quali­fie the fury of the Feaver: As neer as you can let it be unseasonably, when she is in sicknes, and dis­order; for that will let you know she is mortal, and a Woman, and the last would be enough to a wise man: If you could draw her to discourse of things she understands not, it would not be amisse.

Contrive your self often into the Company of the cryed▪up Beauties; for if you read but one book, it will be no wonder if you speak or write that stile; variety will breed distraction, and that will be a kind of diverting the humour.

I would not have you deny your self the little things (for these Agues are easier cured with Sur­fets than abstinence) rather (if you can) tast all: for that (as an old Author saith) will let you see

That the thing for which we wooe,
Is not worth so much ado.

But since that here would be impossible, you must be content to take it where you can get it. And this for your comfort I must tell you (Jack) that Mistresse and Woman differ no otherwise then Frontiniack and ordinary Grapes: which though a man loves never so well, yet if he surfet of the last, he will care but little for the first.

I would have you leave that foolish humour [Page 56] (Jack) of saying you are not in love with her, and pretending you care not for her; for smothered fires are dangerous, and malicious humors are best and safest vented and breathed out. Conti­nue your affection to your Rival still, that will se­cure you from one way of loving, which is in spite; and preserve your friendship with her wo­man; for who knows but she may help you to the remedy.

A jolly glasse and right Company would much conduce to the cure; for though in the Scripture (by the way it is but Apocrypha) Woman is resol­ved stronger than Wine, yet whether it will be so or not, when wit is joyned to it, may prove a fresh question.

Marrying (as our friend the late Ambassador hath wittily observed) would certainly cure it; but that is a kind of live Pigeons laid to the soals of the feet, a last remedy, and (to say truth) worse than the disease.

But (Jack) I remember I promised you a let­ter, not a Treaty; I now expect you should be just, and as I have shewed you how to get out of love, so you (according to our bargain) should teach me how to get into it. I know you have but one way, and will prescribe me now to look upon Mistris Howard; but for that I must tell you afore­hand, that it is love as in Antipathy; The Capers which will make my Lord of Dorset go from the Table, another man will eat up. And (Jack) if you would make a visit to Bedlam, you shall find, [Page 57] that there are rarely two there mad for the same thing.

Your humble Servant.

THough (Madam) I have ever hitherto belee­ved play to be a thing in it self as meerly in­different as Religion to a States-man, or love made in a privie-chamber; yet hearing you have resolved it otherwise for me, my faith shall alter without becomming more learned upon it, or once knowing why it should do so; so great and just a Soveraignty is that your reason hath above all others, that mine must be a Rebel to it self, should it not obey thus easily; and indeed all the infallibility of judgement we poor Protestants have, is at this time wholy in your hands.

The losse of a Mistris (which kills men onely in Romances, and is still digested with the first meat we eat after it) had yet in me raised up so much passion, and so just a quarrel (as I thought) to Fortune for it, that I could not but tempt her to do me right upon the first occasion: yet (Mad­dame) has it not made me so desperate but that I can sit down a loser both of that time and money too, when there shall be the least fear of losing you▪

And now, since I know your Ladyship is too wise to suppose to your self impossibilities, and therefore cannot think of such a thing, as of ma­king me absolutely good; it will not be without [Page 58] some impatience that I shall attend to know what sin you will be pleased to assigne me in the room of this: something that has lesse danger about it (I conceive it would be) and therefore if you please (Madam) let it not be Women: for to say truth, it is a dyet I cannot yet rellish, otherwise then men do that on which they surfetted last.

Your humblest Servant, J. S.
Madam,

BEfore this instant I did not beleeve Warwick­shire the other world, or that Milcot walks had been the blessed shades. At my arrival here I am saluted by all as risen from the dead, and have had joy given me as preposterously and as imperti­nently as they give it to men who marry where they do not love. If I should now die in earnest, my friends have nothing to pay me, for they have discharged the Rites of Funeral sorrow before hand. Nor do I take it ill, that report which made Richard the second alive so often after he was dead, should kill me as often when I am alive; The advantage is on my side: The onely quarrel I have, is that they have made use of the whole Book of Martyrs upon me; and without all que­stion the first Christians under the great persecu­tions suffered not in 500. years, so many several waies as I have done in six daies in this lewd Town. This (Madam) may seem strange unto you [Page 59] now, who know the Company I was in; and cer­tainly if at that time I had departed this transito­ry World, it had been a way they had never thought on; and this Epitaph of the Spaniards (changing the names) would better have become my Grave-stone, then any other my friends the Poets would have found out for me:

Epitaph.
Here lies Don Alonzo,
Slain by a wound received under
His left Pappe,
The Orifice of which was so
Small, no Chirurgion could
Discover it.
Reader,
If thou wouldst avoid so strange
A Death,
Look not upon Lucinda'es eyes.

Now all this discourse of dying (Madam) is but to let you know how dangerous a thing it is to be long from London, especially in a place which is concluded out of the World. If you are not to be frighted hither, I hope you are to be perswa­ded; and if good Sermons, or good Playes, new Braveries, or fresh Wit, Revells (Madam) Masks that are to be, have any Rhetorique about them, here they are I assure you in perfection; without asking leave of the Provinces beyond Seas, or the assent of—I write not this that you should think I value these pleasures a­bove those of Milcot: for I must here protest, I [Page 60] preferre the single Tabor and Pipe in the great Hall, far above them: and were there no more belonging to a journey then riding so many miles (would my affairs conspire with my desires) your Ladyship should find there not at the bottom of a Letter

Madam,
Your humble Servant,
Madam,

I Thank Heaven we live in an Age in which the Widdows wear Coulers, and in a Country where the Women that lose their Husbands may be trusted with poison, knives, and all the burn­ing coals in Europe, notwithstanding the president of Sophonisba and Portia: Considering the estate you are in now, I should reasonably imagine meaner Physitians then Seneca or Cicero might ad­minister comfort. It is so far from me to imagine this accident should surprize you, that in my opi­nion it should not make you wonder; it being not strange at all that a man who hath lived ill all his time in a house, should break a Window, or steal away in the night through an unusual Po­stern: you are now free, and what matter is it to a Prisoner whether the fetters be taken off the ordinary way or not? If insteed of putting off handsomly the chain of Matrimony, he hath rude­ly broke it, 'tis at his owne charge, nor should it cost you a tear; Nothing (Madam) has worse Mine [Page 61] than counterfet sorrow, and you must have the height of Womans Art to make yours appear o­ther, especially when the spectators shall consider all the story.

The sword that is placed betwixt a contracted Princesse and an Ambassador, was as much a Hus­band, and the onely difference was, that that sword laid in the bed, allowed one to supply its place; this Husband denied all, like a false Crow set up in a Garden, which keeps others from the fruit it cannot taste it self: I would not have you so much as enquire whether it were with his gar­ters or his Cloak-bag strings, nor ingage your self to fresh sighs by hearing new relations.

The Spanish Princesse Leonina (whom Balzac delivers the Ornament of the last Age) was wise; who hearing a Post was sent to tell her her Hus­band was dead, and knowing the Secretary was in the way for that purpose, sent to stay the Post till the arrival of the Secretary, that she might not be obliged to shed tears twice. Of ill things the lesse we know, the better. Curiosity would here be as vain, as if a Cuckold should enquire whe­ther it were upon the Couch or a Bed, and whe­ther the Cavalier pulld off his Spurrs first or not.

I must confesse it is a just subject for our sorrow to hear of any that does quit his station with­out his leave that placed him there; and yet as ill a Mine as this Act has: 't was a-la-Romansci, as you may see by a line of Mr. Shakespears, who bringing in Titinius after a lost battel, speaking to [Page 62] his sword, and bidding it find out his heart, adds

By your leave Gods, this a Romanes part.

'Tis true, I think Cloak-bag strings were not then so much in fashion; but to those that are not Sword-men, the way is not so despicable; and for my owne part, I assure you Christianity high­ly governs me in the minute in which I do not wish with all my heart that all the discontents in his Majesties three Kingdoms would find out this very way of satisfying themselves and the world.

I. S.
Sir,

SInce the setling of your Family would cer­tainly much conduce to the setling of your mind (the care of the one being the trouble of the other) I cannot but reckon it in the number of my misfortunes, that my affairs deny me the content I should take to serve you in it.

It would be too late now for me (I suppose) to advance or confirm you in those good resolutions I left you in, being confident your own reason hath been so just to you, as long before this to have represented a necessity of redeeming time and fame, and of taking an handsome revenge upon your self for the injuries you would have done your self.

Change I confesse (to them that think all at once) must needs be strange, and to you hateful, whom first your owne nature, and then custome [Page 63] another nature, have brought to delight in those narrow and uncouth waies we found you in. You must therefore consider that you have entred in­to one of those neer conjunctions of which death is the onely honourable divorce; and that you have now to please another as well as your self; who though she be a Woman, and by the patent she hath from nature, hath liberty to do simply; yet can she never be so strongly bribed against her self, as to betray at once all her hopes and ends, and for your sake resolve to live miserably. Examples of such loving folly our times afford but few; and in those there are, you shall find the stock of Love to have been greater, and their strengths richer to maintain it, than is to be fear­ed yours can be.

Woman (besides the trouble) has ever been thought a Rent-charge, and though through the vain curiosity of man it has often been inclosed, yet has it seldom been brought to improve or become profitable; It faring with marryed men for the most part, as with those that at great charges wall in grounds and plant, who cheaper might have eaten Mellons elsewhere then in their owne Gardens Cucumbers. The ruines that ei­ther time, sicknesse, or the melancholy you shall give her, shall bring; must all be made up at your cost: for that thing a husband is but Tenant for life in what he holds, and is bound to leave the place Tenantable to the next that shall take it. To conclude, a young Woman is a Hawk upon [Page 64] her wings; and if she be handsome, she is the more subject to go out at check; Faulkners that can but seldom spring right game, should still have something about them to take them down with. The Lure to which all stoop in this world, is either garnisht with profit or pleasure, and when you cannot throw her the one, you must be content to shew out the other. This I speak not out of a desire to increase your fears which are already but too many, but out of a hope that when you know the worst, you will at once leap into the River, and swim through handsomly, and not (weather-beaten with the divers blasts of irresolution) stand shivering upon the brink.

Doubts and fears are of all the sharpest passi­ons, and are still turning distempers to diseases; through these false Opticks 'tis, all that you see is like evening shaddows, disproportionable to the truth, and strangely longer then the true sub­stance: These (when a handsome way of living and expence sutable to your Fortune is represen­ted to you) makes you in their stead see want and beggery: thrusting upon your judgement impos­sibilities for likelyhoods, which they with ease may do (since as Solomon saith) they betray the succors that reason offers.

'Tis true, that all here below is but diversified folly, and that the little things we laugh at Chil­dren for, we do but act our selves in great; yet is there difference of Lunacy, and of the two, I had much rather be mad with him, that (when he had [Page 65] nothing) thought all the Ships that came into the Haven his; Than with you, who (when you have so much comming in) think you have no­thing; This fear of losing all in you, is the ill issue of a worse Parent, desire of getting in you; So that if you would not be passion-rent, you must cease to be covetous: Money in your hand is like the Conjurers Divel, which, while you think you have, that has you.

The rich Talent that God hath given, or ra­ther lent you, you have hid up in a napkin, and Man knows no difference betwixt that and Trea­sures kept by ill Spirits, but that yours is the har­der to come by. To the guarding of these golden Apples, of necessity must be kept those never sleeping Dragons, Fear, Jealousie, Distrust, and the like; so that you are come to moralize AEsop, and his fables of beasts are become prophecies of you; for while you have catcht at the shadow, uncer­tain riches; you have loft the substance, true content.

The desire I have ye should be yet your self, and that your friends should have occasion to blesse the providence of misfortune, has made me take the boldnes to give you your own Chara­cter; and to shew you your self out of your own glasse: And though all this tells you but where you are, yet it is some part of a cure to have searcht the wound. And for this time we must be content to do like Travellers, who first find out the place, and then the neerest way.

My Noble Lord,

YOur humble Servant had the honour to re­ceive from your hand a Letter, and had the grace upon the sight of it to blush. I but then found my owne negligence, and but now could have the opportunity to ask pardon for it. We have ever since been upon a March, and the pla­ces we are come to, have afforded rather blood than Inke: and of all things, Sheets have been the hardest to come by, specially those of Paper. If these few lines shall have the happines to kisse your hand, they can assure, that he that sent them knows none to whom he owes more obligation then to your Lordship, and to whom he would more willingly pay it: and that it must be no lesse than necessity it self that can hinder him from of­ten presenting it. Germany hath no whit altered me, I am still the humble servant of my Lord [] that I was, and when I cease to be so, I must cease to be

John Suckling.

SInce you can breath no one desire that was not mine before it was yours,—or full as soon, (for hearts united never knew divided wishes) I must chide you (dear Princesse) not thank you, for your Present: and (if at least I knew how) be angry with you for sending him a blush, who needs must blush because you sent him one. If you are conscious of much, what am I then? who [Page 67] guilty am of all you can pretend to, and somthing more—unworthinesse. But why should you at all (Heart of my heart) disturb the happines you have so newly given me? or make love feed on doubts, that never yet could thrive on such a diet? If I have granted your request—Oh!—Why will you ever say that you have studied me, and give so great an instance to the contrary? that wretched If—speaks as if I would refuse what you desire, or could: both which are equally im­possible. My dear Princesse, There needs no new Approaches where the Breach is made already; nor must you ever ask any where, but of your fair self, for any thing that shall concern

Your humble Servant.
My Dearest Princesse,

BUt that I know I love you more then ever any did any, and that yet I hate my self because I can love you no more, I should now most unsatis­fied dispatch away this messenger.

The little that I can write to what I would, makes me think writing a dull commerce, and then—how can I chuse but wish my self with you—to say the rest. My Dear Dear, think what merit, vertue, beauty, what and how far Aglaura with all her charmes can oblige, and so far and something more I am

Your humble Servant.

A Letter to a Friend to diswade him from mar­rying a Widow which he formerly had been in Love with, and quitted.

AT this time when no hot Planet fires the blood, and when the Lunaticks of Bedlam themselves are trusted abroad; that you should run mad, is (Sir) not so much a subject for your friends pitty, as their wonder. 'Tis true, Love is a natural distemper, a kind of Small Pocks: Every one either hath had it, or is to expect it, & the sooner the better.

Thus far you are ex­cused: But having been well cured of a Fever, to court a Relapse, to make Love the second time in the same Place, is (not to flatter you) neither bet­ter nor worse then to fall into a Quagmire by chance, and ride into it [Page 69] afterwards on purpose. 'Tis not love (Tom) that that doth the mischief, but constancy, for Love is of the nature of a burn­ing-glasse, which kept still in one place, fireth: changed often, it doth nothing: a kind of glow­ing-Coal, which with shifting from hand to hand a man easily en­dures. But then to mar­ry! (Tom) Why thou hadst better to live ho­nest. Love thou knowst is blind, what will he do when he hath Fetters on thinkest thou?

Dost thou know what marriage is? 'Tis curing of Love the dearest way, or waking a loosing Gamester out of a winning dream: and after a long expe­ctation of a strange ban­quet, a presentation of a homely meal. Alas! (Tom) Love-seeds when it runs up to Matrimony, and is good for nothing. Like [Page 70] some Fruit-trees, it must be transplanted if thou wouldst have it active, and bring forth any thing.

Thou now perchance hast vowed all that can be vowed to any one face, and thinkst thou hast left nothing unsaid to it: do but make love to another, and if thou art not suddenly fur­nisht with new-language, and fresh oathes, I will conclude Cupid hath u­sed thee worse then e­ver he did any of his train.

After all this, to marry Widow, a kind of chew'd­meat! What a fantastical stomack hast thou, that canst not eat of a dish til another man hath cut of it? who would wash after another, when he might have fresh water enough for asking?

Life is sometimes a long-journey: to be [Page 71] tyed to ride upon one beast still, and that half­tyr'd to thy hand too! Think upon that (Tom.)

Well; If thou must needs marry (as who can tell to what height thou hast sinned? Let it be a Maid, and no Wi­dow: (for as a modern Author hath wittily re­solved in this case) 'tis better (if a man must be in Prison) to lie in a private room then in the hole.

An Answer to the Letter.

CEase to wonder (ho­nest Jack) and give me leave to pitty thee, who labourest to con­demn that which thou confessest natural, and the sooner had, the better.

Thus far there needs no excuse, unlesse it be on thy behalf, who stilest second thoughts (which are by all allowed the Best) a relapse, and talkest of a quagmire where no man ever stuck fast, and ac­cusest constancy of mis­chief in what is natural, and advisedly undertaken.

'Tis confest that Love changed often doth no­thing; nay 'tis nothing: for Love and change are incompatible: but where it is kept fixt to its first object, though it burn not, yet it warms [Page 69] and cherisheth, so as it needs no transplantation, or change of soyl to make it fruitful: and certain­ly if Love be natural, to marry is the best Recipe for living honest.

Yes, I know what ma­riage is, and know you know it not, by terming it the dearest way of cu­ring Love: for certainly there goes more charge to the keeping of a Sta­ble full of horses, then one onely Steed: and much of vanity is therein be­sides: when, be the er­rand what it will, this one Steed shall serve your turn as well as twenty more. Oh! if you could serve your Steed so!

Marriage turns plea­sing Dreams to ravishing Realities which out doe what Fancy or expectation can frame unto them­selves.

That Love doth seed when it runs into Matri­mony, [Page 70] is undoubted truth; how else should it in­crease and multiply, which is its greatest blessing.

'Tis not the want of Love, nor Cupids fault, if every day afford not new-language, and new-waies of expressing affe­ction: it rather may be caused through an ex­cesse of joy, which often­times strikes dumb.

These things conside­red I will marry, nay, and to prove the second Pa­radox false, I'le marry a Widow, who is rather the chewer, then thing chewed. How strangely fantasti­cal is he who will be an hour in plucking on a strait-boot, when he may be forthwith furnisht with enough that will come on easily, and do him as much credit, and better service? Wine when first-broacht, drinks not half so well as after a while drawing. Would [Page 71] you not think him a mad man who whilst he might fair & easily ride on the beaten-road-way, should trouble himself with breaking up of gaps? a well wayed horse will safely convay thee to thy journeys end, when an unbackt Filly may by chance give thee a fall: 'Tis Prince-like to mar­ry a Widow, for 'tis to have a Taster.

Tis true, life may prove a long▪journey; and so be­lieve me it must do, A very long one too, before the Beast you talke of prove tyr'd. Think you upon that (Jack.)

Thus, Jack, thou seest my wel-tane resolution of marrying, and that a Widow, not a maid; to which I am much indu­ced out of what Pythago­ras saith (in his 2 da Sect. cu [...]iculorum) that it is bet­ter lying in the hole, then sitting in the Stocks.

VVHen I receive your lines (my Dear Princesse) and find there expressions of a Passion; though reason and my own imme­rit tell me, it must not be for me; yet is the Cozenage so pleasing to me, that I (bribed by my own desires) beleeve them still before the other. Then do I glory that my Virgin-Love has staid for such an object to fixe upon, and think how good the Stars were to me that kept me from quenching those flames (Youth or wild Love furnished me withall) in common and or­dinary Waters, and reserved me a Sacrifice for your eyes;—While thought thus smiles and solaces himself within me, cruel Remem­brance breaks in upon our retirements, and tells so sad a Story, that (trust me) I forget all that pleased Fancy said before, and turnes my thoughts to where I left you. Then I consider that stormes neither know Courtship, nor Pit­tie, and that those rude blasts will often make you a Prisoner this Winter, if they doe no worse.

While I here enjoy fresh diversion, you make the sufferings more, by having leisure to consider them; nor have I now any way left me to make mine equal with them, but by often considering that they are not so: for the thought that I cannot be with you to bear my share, is more intolerable▪ to me, then if I had borne [Page 73] more—but I was onely born to number houres, and not enjoy them—yet can I never think my selfe unfortunate, while I can write my selfe

Aglaura, Her humble Servant.

VVHen I consider (my Dear Princesse that I have no other pretence to your favours, then that which all men have to the Original of Beauty, Light: which we enjoy not that it is the inheritance of our eyes, but because things most excellent cannot restrain themselves, but are ours, as they are diffusively good; Then doe I find the justnesse of your quarrel, and cannot but blush to think what I doe owe, but much more to thinke what I doe pay, Since I have made the Principal so great, by sending in so little Interest—When you have re­ceived this humble confession, you will not I hope, conceive me one that would (though upon your bidding) enjoy my selfe, while there is such a thing in the world, as—

Aglaura—Her humble Servant. J. S.

SO much (Dear—) was I ever yours since I had first the honour to know you, and consequent­ly so little my self since I had the unhappines to part with you, that you your self (Dear) without what I would say, cannot but have been so just as to have imagined the welcom of your own let­ters; though indeed they have but removed me from one Rack, to set me on another; from fears and doubts I had about me of your welfare, to an unquietnesse within my self, till I have deserv'd this Intelligence.

How pleasingly troublesome thought and re­membrance have been to me since I left you, I am no more able now to expresse, then another to have them so. You onely could make every place you came in worth the thinking of, and I do think those places worthy my thought onely, because you made them so. But I am to leave them, and I shall do't the willinger, because the Gamester still is so much in me, as that I love not to be told too often of my losses: Yet every place will be alike, since every good object will do the same. Variety of Beauty and of Faces (quick underminers of Constancy to others) to me will be but pillars to support it; Since when they please me most, I most shall think of you.

In spite of all Philosophy, it will be hottest in my Climate, when my Sun is farthest off; and in spite of all reason, I proclaim, that I am not my self but when I am

Yours wholy.

THough desire in those that love be still like too much sail in a storm, and man cannot so easily strike, or take all in when he pleases: Yet (Dearest Princesse) be it never so hard, when you shall think it dangerous, I shall not make it diffi­cult, though—Well; Love is love, and Aire is Aire; and (though you are a Miracle your self) yet do not I believe that you can work any; with­out it I am confident you can never make these two thus different in themselves, one and the self same thing; when you shall, it will be some small furtherance towards it, that you have

Your humble servant. J. S.

Who so truly loves the fair Aglaura, that he will never know desire, at least not entertain it, that brings not letters of recommendation from her, or first a fair Pasport.

My Dear Dear,

THink I have kist your Letter to nothing, and now know not what to answer. Or that now I am answering, I am kissing you to nothing, and know not how to go on! For you must pardon, I must hate all I send you here, because it expresses nothing in respect of what it leaves behind with me. And oh! Why should I write then? Why should I not come my self? Those Tyrants, busi­nesse, honour, and necessity, what have they to do with you and I? Why should we not do Loves [Page 76] commands before theirs whose Soveraignty is but usurped upon us? Shall we not smell to Ro­ses 'cause others do look on? or gather them, 'cause there are prickles, and something that would hinder us? Dear—I fain would—and know no hindrance—but what must come from you—and—why should any come? since 'tis not I, but you must be sensible how much time we lose, It being long since I was not my self, but

Yours.
Dear Princesse,

FInding the date of your Letter so young, and having an assurance from [ ] who at the same time heard from Mr. [ ] that all our Letters have been delivered at [B] I cannot but imagine some ill mistake, and that you have not received any at all. Faith I have none in Welch, man; and though Fear and Suspition look often so far that they oversee the right, yet when Love holds the Candle, they seldom do mistake so much. My Dearest Princesse, I shall long, next hearing you are well, to hear that they are safe: for though I can never be ashamed to be found an Idolater to such a shrine as yours, yet since the world is ful of profane eyes, the best way, sure, is to keep all my­steries from them, and to let privacy be (what in­deed it is) the best part of devotion. So thinks

My D. D. P.
Your humble Servant.

SInce the inferiour Orbes move but by the first, without all question desires and hopes in me are to be govern'd still by you, as they by it. What mean these fears then? Dear Princesse.

Though Planets wander, yet is the Sphere that carries them the same still; and though wishes in me may be extravagant, yet he in whom they make their motion is, you know, my dear Prin­cesse,

Yours, and wholy to be disposed of by you.

And till we hear from you, though (according to the form of concluding a Letter) we should now rest, we cannot.

Fair Princesse,

IF parting be a sin (as sure it is) what then to part from you? if to extenuate an ill be to in­crease it, what then now to excuse it by a letter? That which we would alledge to lessen it, with you perchance has added to the guilt already, which is our sodain leaving you. Abruptnesse is an eloquence in parting, when Spinning out of time, is but the weaving of new sorrow. And thus we thought yet not being able to distinguish of our owne Acts, the fear we may have sinn'd far­ther then we think of, has made us send to you, to know whether it be Mortal or not.

For the Two Excellent Sisters.

THough I conceive you (Ladies) so much at leisure that you may read any thing, yet [Page 78] since the stories of the Town are meerly amo­rous, and sound nothing but Love, I cannot with­out betraying my owne judgement make them news for Wales. Nor can it be lesse improper to transport them to you, then for the King to send my Lord of C. over Ambassador this winter into Green-land.

It would want faith in so cold a Countrey as Anglesey, to say that your Cozen Dutchesse, for the quenching of some foolish flames about her, has endured quietly the losse of much of the Kings favour, of many of her houses, and of most of her friends.

Whether the disfigurement that Travel or sick­nes has bestowed upon B W. be thought so great by the Lady of the Isle, as 'tis by others, and whe­ther the alteration of his face has bred a change in her mind—it never troubles you—Ladies. What old Loves are decay'd, or what new▪ones are sprung up in their room; Whether this Lady be too discreet, or that Cavalier not secret e­nough; are things that concern the inhabitants of Anglesey not at all. A fair day is better welcom and more news, then all that can be said in this kind. And for all that I know now, the Divels Chimney is on fire, or his pot seething over, and all North-Wales not able to stay the fury of it. Per­chance while I write this, a great black cloud is sayling from Mistris Thomasses bleak Mountains o­ver to Baron-hill, there to disgorge it self with what the Sea or worse places fed it with before.

[Page 79] It may be the honest banks about you turn bankrupt too, and break; and the Sea like an an­gry Creditor seizes upon all, and hath no pitty, because he has been put off so long from time to time. For variety (and it is not impossible) some boysterous wind flings up the hangings; and thinking to do as much to your cloths, finds a resi­stance, and so departs, but first breaks all the win­dows about the house for it in revenge.

These things now we that live in London cannot help, and they are as great news to men that sit in Boxes at Black-Fryars, as the affairs of Love to Flannel-Weavers.

For my own part, I think I have made a great complement, when I have wisht my self with you, and more then I dare make good in Winter: and yet there is none would venture farther for such a happines then

Your humble servant.

The Wine-drinkers to the Water-drinkers, greeting.

WHereas by your Ambassador two daies since sent unto us, we understand that you have lately had a plot to surprize (or to speak more properly) to take the waters; and in it have not onely a little miscarryed, but also met with such difficulties, that unlesse you be speedily re­lieved, you are like to suffer in the adventure; We as well out of pitty to you, as out of care to our State and Common-Wealth (knowing that Women have ever been held necessary, and that [Page 80] nothing relisheth so well after Wine) have so far taken it into our consideration, that we have ne­glected no means since we heard of it first, that might be for your contents, or the good of the cause; and therefore to that purpose we have had divers meetings at the Bear at the Bridge-foot▪ and now at length have resolv'd to dispatch to you one of our Cabinet-Councel, Colonel Young, with some slight Forces of Canary, and some few of Sherry, which no doubt will stand you in good steed, if they do not mutiny and grow too head­strong for their Commander; him Captain Puffe of Barton shall follow with all expedition, with two or three Regiments of Claret; Monsieur de Granville, commonly called Lieutenant Strutt, shall lead up the Reer of Rhenish and White. These succors thus timely sent, we are confident will be sufficient to hold the Enemy in Play; and till we hear from you again, we shall not think of a fresh supply: For the Waters (though perchance they have driven you into some extremities, and di­vers times forc't their passages through some of your best guarded places) yet have they, if our in­telligence fail us not, hitherto had the worst of it still, and evermore at length plainly run away from you.

Given under our hands at the Bear, this fourth of July.

SInce Joy (the thing we all so Court) is but our hopes stript of our fears, pardon me if I be still [Page 81] pressing at it, and like those that are curious to know their fortunes aforehand desire to be satis­fied, though it displeases me afterward. To this Gentleman (who has as much in-sight as the t'o­ther wanted Ey-sight) I have committed the par­ticulars, which would too much swell a Letter: if they shall not please you, 'tis but fresh subject still for Repentance; nor ever did that make me quarrel with any thing but my owne starres. To swear new oaths from this place, were but to weaken the credit of those I have sworn in ano­ther: if heaven be to forgive you now for not beleeving of them then, (as sure as it was a sin) heaven forgive me now for swearing of them then (for that was double sin.) More then I am I cannot be, nor list,

Yours, I. S.

I am not so ill a Protestant as to beleeve in me­rit, yet if you please to give answer under your owne hand, such as I shall for ever rely upon: if I have not deserv'd it already, it is not impossible but I may.

To a Cosin (who still loved young Girles, and when they came to be mariageable, quitted them, and fell in love with fresh) at his fathers request, who desired he might be perswaded out of the humour, and marry.

Honest Charles,

VVEre there not fooles enow before in the Common-Wealth of Lovers, but that [Page 82] thou must bring up a new Sect? Why delighted with the first knots of roses, and when they come to blow (can satisfie the sence, and do the end of their Creation) dost not care for them? Is there nothing in this foolish transitory world that thou canst find out to set thy heart upon, but that which has newly left off making of dirt-pyes, and is but preparing it self for loam, and a green▪sick­nes? Seriously (Charles) and without ceremony, 'tis very foolish, and to love widdows is as tolera­ble an humour, and as justifiable as thine—for beasts that have been ridd of their legges are as much for a mans use, as Colts that are un-way'd, and will not go at all:—Why the divel such yong things? before these understand what thou wouldst have, others would have granted. Thou dost not marry them neither, nor any thing else. 'Sfoot it is the story of the Jack-an-apes and the Partridges; thou starest after a beauty till it is lost to thee, & then let'st out another, and starest after that till it is gone too. Never considering that it is here as in the Thames, and that while it runs up in the middle, it runnes down on the sides; while thou contemplat'st the comming-in-tide and flow of Beauty, that it ebbes with thee, and that thy youth goes out at the same time: After all this too, She thou now art cast upon will have much ado to avoid being ugly. Pox on't, Men will say thou wert benighted, and wert glad of any Inne. Well! (Charles) there is another way if you could find it out. Women are like Melons: too green, [Page 83] or too ripe, are worth nothing; you must try till you find a right one. Tast all, but hark you— (Charles) you shall not need to eat of all, for one is sufficient for a surfet: Your most humble servant.

I should have perswaded you to marriage, but to deal ingeniously, I am a little out of arguments that way at this present: 'Tis honourable, there's no question on't; but what more, in good faith I cannot readily tell.

Madam,

TO tell you that neither my misfortunes nor my sins did draw from me ever so many sighs as my departure from you has done, and that there are yet tears in mine eyes left undryed for it; or that melancholy has so deeply seized me, that colds and diseases hereafter shall not need a­bove half their force to destroy me, would be I know superfluous and vain, since so great a good­nesse as yours, cannot but have out-beleeved al­ready what I can write.

He never knew you that will not think the losse of your Company, greater then the Impe­rialists can all this time the losse of all their Com­panies; and he shall never know you that can think it greater then I, who though I never had neither wisdom nor wit enough to admire you to your worth, yet had my Judgement ever so much right in it, as to admire you above all. And thus he saies that dares swear he is

Your most devoted servant.
Madam,

THe distrust I have had of not being able to write to you any thing which might pay the charge of reading, has perswaded me to forbear kissing your hands at this distance: So, like Wo­men that grow proud, because they are chaste; I thought I might be negligent, because I was not troublesom. And, were I not safe in your good­nes, I should be (Madam) in your judgement; which is too just to value little observances, or think them necessary to the right honouring my Lady.

Your Ladyship I make no doubt, will take into consideration, that superstition hath ever been fuller of Ceremony then the true worship. When it shall concern any part of your real service, and I not throw by all respects whatsoever to mani­fest my devotion, take what revenge you please. Undo me Madam: Resume my best Place and Title; and let me be no longer.

Your humble servant.
Madam,

BY the same reason the Ancients made no sa­crifice to death, should your Ladyship send me no Letters; since there has been no return on my side. But the truth is, the place affords nothing: all our dayes are (as the Women here) alike: and the difference of Fair, does rarely shew it selfe; Such great State do Beauty and the Sun keep in [Page 85] these parts. I keep company with my own Horses (Madam) to avoid that of the men; and by this you may guesse how great an enemy to my living contentedly my Lady is, whose conversation has brought me to so fine a diet, that, wheresoever I go, I must starve: all daies are tedious, companies troublesom, and Books themselves (Feasts here­tofore) no relish in them. Finding you to be the cause of all this, Excuse me (Madam) if I resent: and continue peremptory in the resolution I have taken to be

Madam,
during life, Your humblest Servant,
Madam,

BUt that I know your goodnes is not mercina­ry, and that you receive thanks, either with as much trouble as men ill news, or with as much wonder as Virgins unexpected Love, this letter should be full of them. A strange proud return you may think I make you (Madam) when I tell you, it is not from every body I would be thus obliged; and that if I thought you did me not these favours because you love me; I should not love you because you do me these favours. This is not language for one in Affliction, I confesse, and upon whom it may be at this present, a cloud is breaking; but finding not within my self I have deserv'd that storm; I will not make it greater by apprehending it.

After all, least (Madam) you should think I take your favours as Tribute; to my great grief, I here [Page 86] declare, that the services I shall be able to render you, will be no longer Presents, but payments of Debts; since I can do nothing for you hereafter, which I was not obliged to do before.

Madam,
Your most humble and faithful servant.
My Noble Friend.

THat you have overcome the danger of the Land and of the Sea, is news most welcom to us, and with no lesse joy receiv'd amongst us than if the King of Sweden had the second time over­come Tilley, and again past the Meine and the Rhine. Nor do we in this look more upon our selves and private interests, then on the publike, since in your safety both were comprised. And though you had not had about you the affairs and secrets of State, yet to have left your own person upon the way, had been half to undoe our poor Iland, and the losse must have been lamented with the tears of a whole Kingdom.

But you are now beyoud all our fears, and have nothing to take heed on your self, but fair Ladies. A pretty point of security; and such a one as all Germany cannot afford. We here converse with Northern Beauties, that had never heat enough to kindle a spark in any mans breast, where hea­ven had been first so merciful, as to put in a rea­sonable soul.

There is nothing either fair or good in this part of the world; and I cannot name the thing can [Page 87] give me any content, but the thought that you enjoy enough otherwhere: I having ever been since I had the first honour to know you,

Yours, more then his owne.
My Lord,

TO perswade one that has newly ship-wrackt upon a Coast to imbarque sodainly for the same place again, or your Lordship to seek that content you now enjoy in the innocence of a so­litude, among the disorders and troubles of a Court, were I think a thing the King himself (and Majesty is no ill Orator) would find some diffi­culty to do. And yet when I consider that great soul of yours, like a Spider, working all inwards, and sending forth nothing, but like the Cloister'd Schoolmens Divinity, threads fine and unprofita­ble: if I thought you would not suspect my being serious all this while, for what I should now say, I would tell you that I cannot but be as bold with you as your Ague is, and for a little time, whether you will or not entertain you scurvily.

When I consider you look (to me) like—I cannot but think it as odd a thing, as if I should see Van Dike with all his fine colours and Pensills about him, his Frame, and right Light, and eve­ry thing in order, and yet his hands tyed behind him: and your Lordship must excuse me if upon it I be as bold.

The wisest men, and greatest States have made no scruple to make use of brave men whom they [Page 88] had laid by with some disgrace▪ nor have those brave men so laid by, made scruple, or thought it a disgrace to serve again, when they were called to it afterwards.

These general motives of the State and Com­mon good, I will not so much as once offer up to your Lordships consideration, though (as 'tis fit) they have still the upper end: yet, like great Oleoes, they rather make a shew then provoke Appetite. There are two things which I shall not be asha­med to propound to you, as ends; since the great­er part of the wise men of the world have not been ashamed to make them theirs: and if any has been found to contemn them, it hath been strong­ly to be suspected that either they could not easi­ly attain to them, or else that the readiest way to attain to them was to contemn them. These two are Honour and Wealth: and though you stand pos­sest of both of them, yet is the first in your hands like a sword, which, if not through negligence, by mischance hath taken rust, and needs a little clear­ing; and it would be much handsomer a present to posterity, if you your self in your life time wipe it off.

For your Estate (which it may be had been more had it not been too much) though it is true that it is so far from being contemptible, that it is Nobly competent, yet must it be content to undergo the same fate greater states (Common-wealths them­selves) have been & are subject to: which is, when it comes to be divided in it self, not to be conside­rable. [Page 89] Both Honour and Estate are too fair and sweet Flowers, to be without Prickles, or to be gathered without some scratches.

And now (my Lord) I know you have nothing to urge but a kind of incapability in your self to the service of this State; when indeed you have made the onely bar you have, by imagining you have one▪

I confesse (though) had vice so large an Empire in the Court, as heretofore it has had, or were the times so dangerous that to the living well there, wise conduct were more necessary then vertue it self; Your Lordship would have reason (with AEsops countrey-mouse) to undervalue all change of condition; since a quiet-mediocrity is still to be preferred before a troubled superfluity: but these things are now no more: and if at any time they have threatned that Horizon, like great clouds, either they are fallen of themselves to the ground, or else, upon the appearing of the Sunne (such a Prince as ours is) they have vanished, and left behind them clear and fair daies. To descend to parts, envie is so lessen'd, that it is almost lost into vertuous emulation, every man trusting the Kings judgement so far, that he knows no better measure of his own merit, then his reward. The lit­tle word behind the back, and undoing whisper, which, like pulling of a sheat-rope at Sea, slackens the sail, and makes the gallantest ship stand still; that that heretofore made the faulty and the in­nocent alike guilty, is a thing, I beleeve, now so [Page 90] forgot; or at least so unpractiz'd, that those that are the worst, have leisure to grow good, before any will take notice they have been otherwise, or at least divulge it.

'Tis true, Faction there is, but 'tis as true, that it is as winds are, to clear, and keep places free from corruption; the oppositions being as harmlesse, as that of the meeting-tides under the bridge, whose encounter makes it but more easie for him that is to passe. To be a little pleasant in my instances; The very women have suffered reformation, and wear through the whole Court their faces as little disguised now, as an honest mans actions should be, and if there be any have suffer'd themselves to be gained by their servants, their ignorance of what they granted may well excuse them from the shame of what they did. So that it is more then possible to be great and good: and we may safely conclude, if there be some that are not so exact, as much as they fall short of it, just so much they have gone from the great Original, God; and from the best Copies of him on earth, the King and the Queen.

To conclude, If those accidents or disasters which make men grow lesse in the world (as some such, my Lord, have happened to you) were ine­vitable as death, or, when they were once ente­red upon us, there were no cure for them; exam­ples of others would satisfie me for yours; but since there have been that have delivered them­selves from their ills, either by their good Fortune, [Page 91] or Vertue, 'twould trouble me that my friends should not be found in that number, as much as if one should bring me a Catalogue of those that truly honoured my Lord of—and I should not find among the first,

Your humble Servant,

To Mr. Henry German, in the beginning of PARLIAMENT, 1640.

Sir,

THat it is fit for the King to do something ex­traordinary at this present, is not onely the opinion of the wise, but the expectation. Men ob­serve him more now then at other times: for Ma­jestie in an Eclipse, like the Sun, draws eyes that would not so much as have looked towards it, if it had shined out, and appeared like it self. To lie still now, would, at the best, shew but a calmnesse of mind, not a magnanimity; since in matter of government, to think well (at any time, much lesse in a very active) is little better then to dream well. Nor must he stay to act till his people desire, be­cause 'tis thought nothing relishes else: for there­fore hath nothing relisht with them, because the King hath for the most part stayed till they have desired; done nothing but what they have or were petitioning for. But, that the King should do, will not be so much the question, as what he should do. And certainly, for a King to have right coun­sel given him, is at all times strange, and at this [Page 92] present impossible. His party for the most part (I would that were modestly said, and it were not all) have so much to do for their own preservati­on, that they cannot (without breaking a law in nature) intend anothers. Those that have courage have not perchance innocence, and so dare not shew themselves in the Kings busines; and if they have innocence, they want parts to make them­selves considerable; so consequently the things they undertake. Then, in Court, they give much counsel, as they beleeve the King inclin'd, deter­mine his good by his desires: which is a kind of setting the Sun by the Dial, Interest which cannot er [...]e, by passions which may.

In going about to shew the King a Cure, now a man should first plainly shew him the disease. But to Kings, as to some kind of Patients, it is not al­waies proper to tell how ill they be: and it is too like a Countrey clown not to shew the way, un­les he know from whence, and discourse of things before.

Kings may be mistaken, and Councellors cor­rupted; but true interest alone (saith Monsieur de Rohan) cannot erre. It were not amisse then to find out the Interest: for setting down right prin­ciples before conclusions, is weighing the scales before we deal out the commodity.

Certainly the great interest of the King is, A u­nion with his People, and whosoever hath told him otherwise (as the Scripture saith of the divel) was a seducer from the first. If there ever had been any [Page 93] one Prince in the whole world that made a felici­ty in this life, and left fair Fame after death, with­out the love of his Subjects, there were some co­lour to despise it.

There was not among all our Princes a greater Courtier of the People then Richard the third, not so much out of fear, as out of wisedom. And, shall the worst of our Kings have striven for that? and shall not the best? (it being an Angelical thing to gain love.)

There are 2. things in which the people expect to be satisfied; Religion, and Justice: nor can this be done by any little acts, but by Royal and Kingly resolutions.

If any shall think that by dividing the factions (a good rule at other times) he shall master the rest now, he will be strangely deceived: for in the beginning of things That would do much, but not when whole Kingdoms are resolv'd. Of those now that lead these parties, if you could take off the major number, the lesser would go­vern, and do the same things still: nay, if you could take off all, they would set up one, and fol­low him.

And of how great consequence it is for the King to resume this right, and be the author him­self, let any body judge: since as Cumneus said, those that have the art to please the People, have commonly the power to raise them.

To do things so that there shall remain no jea­lousie, is very necessary, and is no more then real­ly [Page 94] reforming, that is, pleasing them. For to do things that shall grieve hereafter, and yet pretend love (amongst lovers themselves, where there is easiest faith) will not be accepted. It will not be enough for the King to do what they desire, but he must do somthing more: I mean (by doing more) doing somthing of his owne, as throwing away things they call not for, or giving things they ex­pected not. And when they see the King doing the same things with them, it will take away all thought and apprehension that he thinks the things they have done already ill.

Now if the King ends the differences, and takes away suspect for the future, the case will fall out to be no worse then when two duellists enter the Field, where the worsted party (the other having no ill opinion of him) hath his sword given him again (without further hurt after he is in the o­thers power.) But otherwise it is not safe to ima­gine what may follow: for the people are natu­rally not valiant, and not much Cavalier. Now it is the nature of Cowards to hurt where they can receive none. They will not be content (while they fear and have the upper hand) to fetter on­ly Royalty, but perchance (as timorous spirits use) will not think themselves safe while that is at all. And possibly, this is the present state of things.

In this great work (at least to make it appear perfect and lasting to the Kingdom) it is necessary the Queen really joyn; for if she stand aloof, there will still be suspicions: it being a received opini­on [Page 95] in the world, that she hath a great interest in the Kings favor and power. And to invite her, she is to consider with her self, whether such great vertues and eminent excellencies (though they be highly admired & valued by those that know her) ought to rest satisfied with so narrow a pay­ment as the estimation of a few? And whether it be not more proper for a great Queen to arrive at universal honour, and love, then private esteem and value.

Then, how becomming a work, for the sweet­nes and softnes of her Sex, is composing of diffe­rences, and uniting hearts? and how proper for a Queen, reconciling King and People?

There is but one thing remains, which whisper'd abroad, busies the Kings mind much (if not di­sturbs it) in the midst of these great Resolutions, and that is, The preservation of some servants, whom he thinks somwhat hardly torn from him of late: which is of so tender a nature; I shal rather propound something about it, then resolve it.

The first Quaere will be, Whether as things now stand (Kingdoms in the ballance) the King is not to follow nature, where the conservation of the more general still commands and governs the lesse. As Iron by particular sympathy sticks to the load­stone, but yet if it be joyned with a great body of Iron, it quits those particular affections to the loadstone, and moves with the other, to the great­er, the common Countrey.

The second will be, Whether, if he could pre­serve [Page 96] those ministers, they can be of any use to him hereafter? since no man is served with a grea­ter prejudice, then he that employs suspected in­struments, or not beloved, though able and deser­ving in themselves.

The third is, Whether, to preserve them, there be any other way then for the King to be first right with his people? since the rule in Philosophy must ever hold good, nihil dat quod non habet. Before the King have power to save, he must have power.

Lastly, Whether the way to preserve this power be not to give it away? For the people of England have ever been like wantons, which pull and tugg as long as the princes have pull'd w [...]th them, as you may see in Hen. 3. King John, Edw. 2. and in­deed, all the troublesom and unfortunate reigns; but when they have let it go, they come and put it into their hands again, that they may play on: as you may see in Queen Elizabeth.

I will conclude with a prayer (not that I think it needs at this present: Prayers are to keep us from what may be, as well as to preserve us from what is) That the King be neither too insensible of what is with­out him, nor too resolved from what is within him. To be sick of a dangerous sicknes, and find no pain, can­not but be with losse of understanding (Tis an A­phorisme of Hippocrates) and on the other side, O­piniastrie is a sullen Porter, and (as it was wittily said of Constancy) shutts out often-times, Better things then it lets in.

FINIS.
AN ACCOVNT OF RELIGI …

AN ACCOVNT OF RELIGION BY REASON. A Discourse upon Occasion pre­sented to the Earl of Dorset.

By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.

Printed by his owne Copy.

Lucret. pag. 227.
Tentat enim dubiam mentem rationis egestas.

LONDON, Printed by Ruth Raworth for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop at the signe of the Princes Arms in S. Pauls Church-yard. 1646.

The Epistle.

I Send you here (my Lord) that Discourse enlarged, which frighted the Lady into a cold sweat, and which had like to have made me an Atheist at Court, and your Lordship no very good Christian. I am not ignorant that the fear of Socinianisme at this time, renders every man that offers to give an account of Religion by Reason, suspected to have none at all: yet I have made no scruple to run that hazard, not knowing why a man should not use the best Weapon his Creator hath given him for his defence. That Faith was by the Apostles both highly exalted, and severely enjoyned, is known to every man, and [Page 100] this upon excellent grounds; for it was both the easiest and best way of converting: the o­ther being tedious, and almost uselesse: for but few among thousands are capable of it, and those few not capable at all times of their life, Judgement being required. Yet the best ser­vant our Saviour ever had upon Earth, was so far from neglecting or contemning Reason, that his Epistles were admired, even by those that embraced not the Truthes he delivered. And indeed, had the Fathers of the Church only bid men beleeve, and not told them why, they had slept now un-Sainted in their Graves, and as much benighted with Obli­vion, as the ordinary Parish-Priests of their owne Age.

That man is deceivable, is true; but what part within him is not likelyer then his Rea­son? For as Manilius said,

Nam neque decipitur ratio nec decipit unquam.

And how unlikely is it that that which gives us the Prerogative above other Crea­tures, and wholy entitles us to future happi­nesse, [Page 101] should be laid aside, and not used to the acquiring of it.

But by this time (my Lord) you finde how apt those which have nothing to do themselves, are to give others trouble. I shall onely therefore let you know that your Commands to my Lord of Middlesex are per­formed; and that when you have fresh ones, you cannot place them where they will be more willingly received, then by

Bath, Sept. 2.
Your humble Servant, John Suckling.

A Discourse by Sir John Suckling, Knight.

AMong the truths (my Lord) which we receive, none more reasonably com­mands our belief, then those which by all men, at all times have been assented to. In this number and highest I place this great one, that there is a Deity; which the whole world hath been so eager to em­brace, that rather then it would have none at all, it hath too often been contented with a very mean one.

That there should be a great Disposer and Or­derer of things, a wise Rewarder and Punisher of good and evil, hath appeared so equitable to men▪ that by instinct they have concluded it necessary; Nature (which doth nothing in vain) having so far imprinted it in us all, that should the envie of Pre­decessors deny the secret to Succeders, they yet would find it out. Of all those little ladders with which we seale heaven, and climb up to our Maker, that seems to me not the worst, of which man is the first step. For but by examining how I, that could contribute nothing to mine owne being, should be here, I come to ask the same question for my Father, and so am led in a direct line to a last Producer, that must be more then man. For if man [Page 104] made man, Why died not I when my Father died? since ac­cording to that Maxime of the Philosophers, the cause taken away, the effect does not remain. Or if the first man gave himself being, why hath he it not still? Since it were unreasonable to imagine any thing could have power to give it self life, that had no power to continue it. That there is then a God, will not be so much the dispute, as what this God is, or how to be worshipped, is that which hath troubled poor mortals from the first, nor are they yet in quiet. So great has been the diversity, that some have al­most thought God was no lesse delighted with va­riety in his service, then he was pleased with it in his works. It would not be amisse to take a survey of the world from its cradle; and with Varro, divide it into three Ages: the Unknown, the Fabulous, and the Historical.

The first was a black night, and discovered no­thing: the second was a weak and glimmering light, representing things imperfectly and falsly: the last (more clear) left handsom monuments to posterity. The unknown I place in the age before the Flood, for that Deluge swept away things as well as men, and left not so much as footsteps to trace them by. The fabulous began after the Flood; in this time Godheads were cheap, & men not knowing where to choose better, made Deities one of another. Where this ended, the historical took beginning: for men began to ingrave in pillars, and to commit to Letters, as it were by joynt consent: for the three great Epoches or Termes of Accompt were [Page 105] all established within the space of 30. yeers: The Grecians reckoning from their Olympiades: The Ro­mans from the building of their City: and the Ba­bilonians from their King Salmonassar. To bring into the scale with Christian Religion any thing out of the first Age, we cannot; because we know no­thing of it.

And the second was so fabulous, that those which took it up afterwards, smil'd at it as ridiculous and false (which though was easier for them to do then to shew a true.) In the historical, it improved, and grew more refined: but here the Fathers entred the field, and so cleerly gained the victory, that I should say nothing in it, did I not know it still to be the opinion of good wits, that the particular Religion of Christians has added little to the general Reli­gion of the World. Let us take it then in its perfe­cter estate, and look upon it in that age which was made glorious by the bringing forth of so many admirable spirits, and this was about the 80. Olym­piad, in the year of the world 3480. for in the space of an 100. yeers, flourished almost all that Greece could boast of, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Architas, Iso­crates, Pythagoras, Epicurus, Heraclitus, Xenophon, Zeno, Anaxagoras, Democritus, Demosthenes, Parmenides, Ze­nocrates, Theophrastes, Empedocles, Tymaeus, with divers others, Orators and Poets. Or rather (for they had their Religion one from another, and not much different) let us take a view of it in that Century in which Nature (as it were to oppose the Grecian insolence) brought forth that happy birth of Roman [Page 106] wits: Varro, Cicero, Caesar, Livie, Salust, Virgil, Horace, Vitruvius, Ovid, Pliny, Cato, Marcus Brutus, and this was from Quintus Servilius his Consulship to that of Augustus, 270. yeers after the other. And to say truth, a great part of our Religion, either directly or indirectly hath been professed by Heathens; which I conceive not so much an exprobation to it, as a confirmation; it being no derogating from truth, to be warranted by common consent.

First then, the Creation of the world is delivered almost the same in the Phoenician stories with that in Moses; from this the Grecians had their Chaos, and O­vid the beginning of his Metamorphosis. That All things were made by God, was held by Plato, and others; that darknes was before light, by Thales; that the Stars were made by God, by Aratus; that life was infused into things by the breath of God, Virgil; that Man was made of dust, Hesied, and Homer; that the first life of man was in simplicity and nakednes, the AEgyptians taught: and from thence the Poets had their Golden Age. That in the first times mens lives lasted a thousand yeers, Berosus, and others: that somthing divine was seen amongst men, till that the greatnes of our sins gave them cause to remove, Ca [...]u [...]us: and this he that writes the story of Colum­bus, reports from the Indians of a great Deluge, almost all. But to the main, they hold one God, and though multiplicity hath been laid to their charge, yet cer­tainly the clearer spirits understood these petty Gods as things, not as Deities; second causes, and several vertues of the great power: by Neptune, water; Juno, aire; by Dispater, earth; by Vulcan, fire; [Page 107] and sometimes one God signified many things, as Jupiter the whole world, the whole heaven; and sometimes many gods, one thing, as Ceres, Juno ma­g [...]a, the earth. They concluded those to be vices which we do; nor was there much difference in their vertues; onely Christians have made ready beleef the highest, which they would hardly allow to be any. They held rewards for the good, and pu­nishments for the ill; had their Elizium, and their hell; and that they thought the pains eternal there, is evident, in that they beleev'd from thence was no return. They proportion'd sufferings hereafter, to offences here; as in Tantalus, Sisyphus, and others, among which that of Conscience) the worm that never dies) was one, as in the Vultures gnawing of Promotheus heart, and Virgils ugliest of Furies thun­dring in Pirithous ear, was not obscurely shown; and yet neerer us, they held the number of the Elect to be but small, and that there should be a last day in which the World should perish by fire. Lastly they had their Priests, Temples, Altars.

We have seen now the Parallel, let us enquire whether those things they seem to have in com­mon with us, we have not in a more excellent manner, and whether the rest in which we differ from all the world, we take not up with reason. To begin then with their Jupiter (for all before were but little stealthes from Moses workes) how much more like a Deity are the actions our stories declare our God to have done, then what the Eth­nick Authors deliver of theirs? How excellently [Page 108] elevated are our descriptions of him? Theirs look­ing as if they knew that power onely by their fears, as their Statues erected to him declare: for when he was Capitolinus, he appeard with thunder; when Latiaris, besmear'd with blood; when Feretrius, yet more terrible: We may ghesse what their conce­ptions were, by the worship they gave him: How full of cruelty were their sacrifices? it being recei­ved almost through the whole world, that gods were pleased with the blood of men: and this custom neither the Grecian Wisdom, nor Roman Civility abolished, as appears by sacrifices to Bacchus.

Then the ceremonies of Liber Pater, and Ceres, how obscene? and those daies which were set a part for the honour of the gods, celebrated with such shews as Cato himself was ashamed to be present at. On the contrary, our services are such as not only Cato, but God himself may be there: we worship him that is the purest Spirit, in purity of spirit; and did we not beleeve what the Scriptures deliver from himfelf, yet would our reason perswade us that such an Essence could not be pleased with the blood of beasts, or delighted with the steam of fat: and in this particular, Christians have gone beyond all others except the Mahometans; besides whom there has been no Nation that had not sacrifice, and was not guilty of this pious cruelty.

That we have the same vertues with them is ve­ry true; but who can deny that those vertues have received additions from Christianity, conducing to mens better living together? revenge of injuries [Page 109] Moses both took himself, and allowed by the Law to others; Cicero and Aristotle placed it in vertues quarter: We extol patient bearing of injuries; and what quiet the one, what trouble the other would give the world, let the indifferent judge. Their ju­stice only took care that men should not do wrong: ours that they should not think it, the very cove­ting severely forbidden: and this holds too in cha­stity, desire of a woman unlawfully being as much a breach of the commandement, as their enjoying, which shew'd not only the Christians care, but wis­dom to prevent ill, who provided to destroy it where it was weakest in the Cradle, and declared, He was no lesse then a God which gave them these Laws; for had he been but man, he never would have provided or taken care for what he could not look into, the hearts of Men, and what he could not punish, their thoughts. What Charity can be produced answerable to that of Christians? Look upon the Primitive times, and you shall find that (as if the whole World had been but a private Family) they sent from Province to Province, and from Places farre distant, to Releeve them they never saw nor knew.

Now for the happinesse which they proposed: if they take it as the Heathens understood it, it was an Elizium, a place of blessed shades, at best but a handsom retirement from the troubles of this World: if according to the duller Jewes, Feastings and Banquettings; (for it is evident [Page 110] that the Sadduces, who were great observer [...] of the Mosaical Law, had but faint thoughts of any thing to come) there being in Moses books no promises but of Temporal blessings, and (if any) an obscure mention of eternity. The Mahometans are no lesse sensual, making the re­newing of youth, high Feasts, a woman with great eyes, and drest up with a little more fancie, the last and best good.

Then the hell; How gentle with the Heathens? but the rowling of a stone, filling of a sieve with water, sitting before Banquets, and not daring to touch them, exercising the trade and businesses they had on earth; with the Mahometans, but a Purgatory acted in the grave, some pains inflicted by a bad Angel, and those qualified and mitigated too, by an assisting good one. Now for the Jewes, as they had no hopes, so they had no fears; so that if we consider it rightly, neither their punishments were great enough to deter them from doing ill, nor their rewards high enough to invite men to strictnes of life; for since every man is able to make as good a heaven of his own, it were unreasonable to perswade him to quit that certain happines for an uncertainty: whereas Christians with as much more noble consideration both in their heaven and hell took care not onely for the body but the soul, and for both above mans apprehension.

The strangest, though most Epidemical disease of all Religions, has been an imagination men have had, that the imposing painful and difficult things [Page 111] upon themselves, was the best way to appease the Deity, grosly thinking the chief service and delight of the Creator to consist in the tortures and suffe­rings of the Creature. How laden with chargeable and unnecessary Ceremonies the Jews were, their feasts, circumcisions, sacrifices, great Sabbaths, and little Sabbaths, fasts, burials, indeed almost all their worship, sufficiently declare: and that the Maho­metans are much more infected, appeares by the cutting of the Praepuces, wearing iron rings in the skin of their Fore parts, launcing themselves with knives, putting out their eyes upon the sight of their Prophets Tombe, and the like. Of these last we can shew no patterns amongst us: for though there be such a thing as whipping of the body, yet it is but in some parts of Christendom, and there perchance too, more smil'd at then practis'd. Our Religion teacheth us to bear afflictions patiently when they fall upon us, but not to force them upon our selves: for we beleeve the God we serve, wise enough to chuse his owne service, and therefore presume not to adde to his commands. With the Jews it is true we have somthing in common, but rather the names then thinges: Our Fasts being more the medicines of the body, then the punish­ments of it, spiritual, as our Sabbaths; both good mens delight, not their trouble.

But least this discourse should swell into a great­nesse, such as would make it look rather like a de­fence which I had labour'd to get, then an accompt which I alwaies carry about me; I will now briefly [Page 112] examine, whether we beleeve not with reason those things we have different from the rest of the world. First then, for the perswasion of the truth of them in general: let us consider what they were that conveigh'd them to us: men (of all the world) the most unlikely to plot the cozenage of others, being themselves but simple people, without ends, without designes, seeking neither honour, riches, nor pleasure, but suffering (under the contrary) ignominy, poverty, and misery; enduring death it self, nay courting it: all which are things distasteful to nature, and such as none, but men strangely assu­red, would have undergone. Had they feigned a story, certainly they would not in it have registred their owne faults, nor deliver'd him whom they propounded as a God, ignominiously crucified: add to this the progresse their doctrine made abroad, miraculous above all other either before or since: other Religions were brought in with the sword, power, forcing a custom, which by degrees usurp'd the place of truth: this even power it self oppo­sing. For the Romans (contrary to their custome which entertained all Religions kindly) persecuted this: which by its owne strength so possessed the hearts of men, that no age, sex, or condition, refu­sed to lay down life for it. A thing so rare in other Religions, that among the Heathens, Socrates was the sole martyr: and the Jews (unlesse of fome few under Manasses and Antiochus) have not to boast of any. If we cast our eyes upon the healing of the blind, curing the lame, redeeming from the grave, [Page 113] and but with a touch or word, we must conclude them done by more then humane power, and if by any other, by no ill; These busie not themselves so much about the good of man: and this Religion not only forbids by precept the worship of wicked spirits, but in fact destroys it wheresoever it comes. Now as it is clear by Authors impartial (as being no Christians) that strange things were done, so it is plain they were done without imposture. Delusi­ons shun the light; These were all acted openly, the very enemies both of the master and disciples daily looking on. But let us descend to those more principal particulars, which so much trouble the curious wits: these I take to be the Incarnation, Passion, Resurrection, and Trinity.

For the first, That man should be made without man, why should we wonder more at it in that time of the world, then in the beginning? much ea­sier, certainly, it was here, because neerer the na­tural way; Woman being a more prepared matter then earth. Those great truths, and mysteries of salvation would never have been received with­out miracles; and where could they more oppor­tunely be shown, then at his entrance into the world, where they might give credit to his follow­ing actions and doctrine? So far it is from being a­gainst my reason to think him thus borne, that it would be against it to beleeve him otherwise; it being not fit that the Son of God should be produ­ced like the race of men. That humane nature may be assumed by a Deity, the enemy of Christians, [Page 114] Julian, confirms; and instances (himself) in AEscu­lapius, whom he will have descend from heaven in mortal shape, to teach us here below the Art of Physick. Lastly, That God has liv'd with men, has been the general fancy of all Nations: every parti­cular having this tradition; that the Deity at some time or other conversed amongst men. Nor is it contrary to reason to beleeve him residing in glory above, and yet incarnate here: So in man himself, the soul is in heaven when it remains in the flesh, for it reacheth with its eye the Sun; why may not God then being in heaven, be at the same time with us in the flesh? since the soul without the body would be able to do much more then with it, and God much more then the soul, being the soul of the soul. But it may be urged as more abstruse, how all in heaven, and all in earth? Observe man speak­ing (as you have done seeing) Is not the same speech, at the instant it is uttered, all in every place? Receives not each particular ear▪ alike, the whole? and shall not God be much more Ubiqui­tary then the voice of man? For the Passion (to let alone the necessity of satisfying divine Justice this way, which, whosoever reads more particularly our Divines, shall find rationally enforced) we find: the Heathen had something neer to this (though, as in the rest, imperfect) for they sacrificed single men for the sins of the whole City or Countrey. Porphyrius having laid this foundation: That the su­preme happines of the soul is to see God, and that it can­not see him unpurified, concludes, That there must [Page 115] be a way for the cleansing of Mankind; and proceed­ing to find it out, he tells that Arts and Sciences serve but to set our wits right in the knowledge of things, and cleanse us not enough to come to God: the like judgment he gives of purging by Theurgie, and by the mysteries of the Sun; because those things extend but to some few, whereas this clean­sing ought to be universal for the benefit of all mankind: in the end resolves that this cannot be done, but by one of the three In-beings, which is the word they use to expresse the Trinity by. Let us see what the divinest of the Heathens (and his Master Plato) delivers, to admiration, and as it were Prophetically, to this purpose. That a truly just man be shewn (saith he) it is necessary that he be spoil'd of his Or­naments, so that he must be accounted by others a wicked man, be scoffed at, put in prison, beaten, nay be crucified: and certainly for him that was to appear the high­est example of patience, it was necessary to under­go the highest tryal of it, which was an undeserved death.

Concerning the Resurrection, I conceive the diffi­culty to lie not so much upon our Lord, as us; it be­ing with easie Reason imagined, that he which can make a body, can lay it down, and take it up again. There is somthing more that urges and presses us: for in our estate we promise our selves hereafter, there will be no need of Food, Copulation, or Ex­crement, to what purpose should we have a mouth, belly, or lesse comely parts? it being strange to imagine God to have created man, for a moment [Page 116] of time, a body consisting of particulars, which should be uselesse to all eternity. Besides, Why should we desire to carry that along with us which we are ashamed of here, and which we find so great a trouble, that very wise men (were it not forbid­den) would throw it off before it were worn out? To this I should answer, that as the body is partner in well or ill doing, so it is but just it should share in the rewards or punishments hereafter: and though by reason of sin we blush at it here, yet when that shall cease to be, why we should be more ashamed then our first Parents were, or some in the last discover'd parts of the World are now, I cannot understand. Who knowes but these un­sightly parts shall remain for good use, and that putting us in mind of our imperfect estate here, they shall serve to increase our content and happi­nes there? What kind of thing a glorified body shall be, how chang'd, how refin'd, who knowes? Nor is it the meanest invitement to me now, to think that my estate there, is above my capacity here. There remaines that which does not onely quarrel with the likelyhood of a Resurrection, but with the possibility; alleadging, that man corru­pted into dust, is scattered almost into infinite, or devoured by an irrational creature, goes into ali­ment, and grows part of it; then that creature per­chance is made like food to another: And truly did we doubt of Gods power, or not think him omni­potent, this were a Labyrinth we should be lost in: but it were hard, when we see every petty Chy­mick [Page 117] in his little shop bring into one body things of the same kind, though scatter'd and disorder'd; that we should not allow the great Maker of all things to do the same in his owne Universe.

There remains onely the mistery of the Trinity; to the difficulty of which, the poverty and narrow­nesse of words have made no small addition.

St. Austin plainly saies the word Person was taken up by the Church for want of a better; Nature, Substance, Essence, Hypostasis, Suppositum, and Persona, have caused sharp disputes amongst the Doctors: at length they are contented to let the three first and three last signifie the same thing. By all of them is understood somthing Compleat, Perfect, and Singu­lar: in this onely they differ, that Nature, Substance, Essence are communicable ad quid, and ut quo (as they call it) The other are not at all: but enough of this; Those that were the immediate Conveigh­ers of it to us, wrapt it not up in any of these terms. We then hold God to be one, and but one, it being grosse to imagine two omnipotents, for then nei­ther would be so; yet since this good is perfectly good, and perfect goodnes cannot be without per­fect love, nor perfect love without communicati­on, nor to an unequal or created, for then it must be inordinate; We conclude a Second Coeternal though Begotten: nor are these contrary (though they seem to be so) even in created substances, that one thing may come from another, and yet that from whence it comes, not be before that which comes from it; as in the Sun and Light. But [Page 118] in these high mysteries, similitudes may be the best Arguments. In Metaphysicks they tell us, that to the constituting of every being, there is a Posse sui esse, from whence there is a Sapientia sui esse, and from these two proceedeth an Amor sui esse: and though these three be distinct, yet they make up one perfect being. Again, and more familiarly; There is a hidden Original of waters in the earth, from this a spring flows up, and of these proceeds a stream: this is but one essence, which knows nei­ther a before, nor an after, but in order, and (that too) according to our considering of it: the Head of a Spring is not a Head, but in respect of the Spring; for if somthing flow'd not from it, it were no Original, Nor the Spring a Spring if it did not flow from somthing, nor the Stream a Stream but in respect of both: Now all these three are but one Water, and though one is not the other, yet they can hardly be considered one without the o­ther. Now, though I know this is so far from a de­monstration, that it is but an imperfect instance (perfect being impossible of infinite by finite things) yet there is a resemblance great enough to let us see the possibility. And here the eye of Reason needed no more the spectacles of Faith, then for these things of which we make sympathy the cause, as in the Load-stone, or antipathy, of which every man almost gives instance from his owne nature: nor is it here so great a wonder that we should be ignorant; for this is distant and remo­ved from sence; these neer and subject to it; and [Page 119] it were stranger for me to conclude that God did not work ad extra, thus one and distinct within himself, because I cannot conceive how begotten, how proceeding; then if a Clown should say the hand of a Watch did not move, because he could not give an account of the wheels within. So far is it from being unreasonable, because I do not un­derstand it, that it would be unreasonable I should: For why should a created substance comprehend an uncreated, A circumscribed and limited, an un­circumscrib'd and unlimited? And this I observe in those great Lovers and Lords of Reason, quoted by the Fathers, Zoroastres, Trismegistus, Plato, Nume­nius, Plotinus, Proclus, Amelius, and Avicen, that when they spoke of this mystery of the Trinity, of which all writ something, and some almost as plainly as Christians themselves, that they discussed it not as they did other things, but delivered them as Ora­cles which they had received themselves, without dispute.

Thus much of Christian Profession compared with others: I should now shew which (compar'd within it self) ought to be preferred: but this is the work of every pen, perhaps to the prejudice of Religion it self. This excuse (though) it has, that (like the chief Empire) having nothing to con­quer, no other Religion to oppose or dispute a­gainst, it hath been forced to admit of Civil wars, and suffer under its owne excellency.

FINIS.
AGLAURA. PRESENTED A …

AGLAURA. PRESENTED At the Private House in Black-Fryers, by his Ma­jesties Servants.

Written by Sir JOHN SVCKLING.

LONDON, Printed for Tho. Walkley, and are to be sold by Humphrey Moseley, at his shop, at the signe of the Princes armes in St. Pauls Church-yard, 1646.

PROLOGVE.

I'Ve thought upon't; and cannot tell which way
Ought I can say now, should advance the Play.
For Playes are either good, or bad; the good,
(If they doe beg) beg to be understood.
And in good faith, that has as bold a sound,
As if a Beggar should aske twenty pound.
—Men have it not about them:
Then (Gentlemen) if rightly understood,
The bad do need lesse Prologue than the good:
For if it chance the Plot be lame, or blinde,
Ill cloath'd, deform'd throughout, it needs must finde
Compassion,—It is a beggar without Art:—
But it falls out in penny-worths of Wit,
As in all bargaines else. Men ever get
All they can in; will have London measure,
A handfull over in their very pleasure.
And now yee have't; hee could not well deny'ee,
And I dare sweare hee's scarce a saver by yee.

Prologue to the Court.

THose common passions, hopes, and feares, that still,
The Poets first, and then the Prologues fill
In this our age, hee that writ this, by mee,
Protests against as modest foolerie.
Hee thinks it an odde thing to be in paine,
For nothing else, but to be well againe.
Who writes to feare is so; had hee not writ,
You ne're had been the Iudges of his wit;
And when hee had, did he but then intend
To please himselfe, he sure might have his end
Without th' expence of hope, and that he had
That made this Play, although the Play be bad.
Then Gentlemen be thriftie, save your doomes
For the next man, or the next Play that comes;
For smiles are nothing, where men doe not care,
And frownes as little, where they need not feare.

To the King.

THis (Sir) to them, but unto Majestie.
All hee has said before, hee does denie.
Yet not to Majestie: that were to bring
His feares to be, but for the Queen and King,
Not for your selves; and that hee dares not say:
Y'are his Soveraignes another way:
Your soules are Princes, and you have as good
A title that way, as yee have by blood
To governe, and here your power's more great
And absolute, than in the royall Seat.
There men dispute, and but by Law obey,
Here is no Law at all, but what yee say.

Scena Persia.

  • King, In love with Aglaura.
  • Thersames, Prince, in love with Aglaura.
  • Orbella, Queen, at first Mistresse to Ziriff: in love with Ariaspes.
  • Ariaspes, Brother to the King.
  • Ziriff, Otherwayes Sorannez disguised, Captaine of the Guard, in love with Orbella, brother to A­glaura.
  • Iolas, A Lord of the Councell, seeming friend to the Prince, but a Traytour, in love with Semanthe.
  • Aglaura, In love with the Prince, but nam'd Mistresse to the King.
  • Orsames, A young Lord antiplatonique; friend to the Prince.
  • Philan, The same.
  • Semanthe, In love with Ziriff; platonique.
  • Orithie, In love with Thersames.
  • Pasithas, A faithfull servant.
  • Jolinas, Aglaura's waiting-woman.
  • Courtiers.
  • Huntsmen.
  • Priest.
  • Guard.

AGLAURA.

ACTUS I. SCENA I.

Enter IOLAS, IOLINA.
Jolas,
MArried? and in Diana's Grove!
Jolin.
So was th'appointment, or my Sense deceiv'd me.
Jolas,
Married!
Now by those Powers that tye those pretty knots,
'Tis very fine, good faith 'tis wondrous fine:
Jolin.
What is, Brother?
Jolas,
Why? to marrie Sister—
T'injoy 'twixt lawfull and unlawfull thus
A happinesse, steale as 'twere ones owne;
Diana's Grove▪ sayest thou?— Scratcheth his head.
Jolin.
That's the place; the hunt once up, and all
Ingag'd in the sport, they meane to leave
The company, and steale unto those thickets,
Where, there's a Priest attends them;
Jolas,
And will they lye together think'st thou?
Jolin.
Is there distinction of sex thinke you?
Or flesh and bloud?
Jolas,
True; but the King, Sister!
Jolin.
But love, Brother!
Jolas,
Thou sayest well;
'Tis fine 'tis wondrous fine:
Diana's Grove—
Jolin.
[Page 2]
Yes, Diana's grove,
But Brother if you should speake of this now,—(so fast:
Jol.
Why thou know'st a drowning man holds not a thing Semanthe! she shuns me too:
(Enter Semanthe she sees
Jolin.
The wound festred sure!
(Iolas and goes in agen.
The hurt the boy gave her, when first
Shee look'd abroad into the world, is not yet cur'd.
Iolas,
What hurt?
Iolin.
Why, know you not
Shee was in love long since with young Zorannes,
(Aglaura's brother,) and the now Queens betroth'd?
Iolas,
Some such slight Tale I'ave heard.
Iolin.
Slight? she yet does weep, when she but hears him nam'd,
And tels the prettiest, and the saddest stories
Of all those civill wars, and those Amours,
That, trust me both my Lady and my selfe
Turne weeping Statues still.
Iolas,
Pish, 'tis not that.
'Tis Ziriff and his fresh glories her [...]
Have rob'd me of her.
Since he thus appear'd in Court,
My love has languish'd worse than Plants in drought.
But time's a good Physician: come, lets in:
The King & Queen by this time are come forth.
Exeunt.
Enter Serving-men to Ziriff.
1 Serv.
Yonder's a crowd without, as if some strange
Sight were to be seen to day here.
2 Serv.

Two or three with Carbonadoes afore in stead of faces mistook the doore for a breach, & at the opening of it, are striving still which should enter first.

3 Serv.
Is my Lord busie?
(Knocks.)
Enter Ziriff as in his Studie.
1 Serv.
My Lord there are some Souldiers without—
Zir.
Well▪ I will dispatch them presently.
2 Serv.
Th'Embassadours from the Cadusians too—
Zir.
Shew them the Gallerie.
3 Serv.
One from the King—
Zir.
[Page 3]
Again? I come, I come.
Exeunt Serving-men.
Ziriff solus.
Greatnesse, thou vainer shadow of the Princes beames,
Begot by meere reflection, nourish'd in extreames;
First taught to creepe, and live upon the glance,
Poorely to fare, till thine owne proper strength
Bring thee to surfet of thy selfe at last.
How dull a Pageant, would this States-play seeme
To mee now; were not my love and my revenge
Mixt with it?—
Three tedious Winters have I waited here,
Like patient Chymists blowing still the coales,
And still expecting, when the blessed houre
Would com, should make me master of
The Court Elixar, Power, for that turnes all:
'Tis in projection now; downe, sorrow, downe,
And swell my heart no more, and thou wrong'd ghost
Of my dead father, to thy bed agen,
And sleep securely;
It cannot now be long, for sure Fate must,
As't has been cruell, so▪ a while be just.
Exit.
Enter King and Lords, the Lords intreating for Prisoners.
King.
I say they shall not live; our mercie
Would turne sinne, should we but use it er'e:
Pittie, and Love, the bosses onely be
Of government meerly for show and ornament.
Feare is the bit that mans proud will restraines,
And makes its vice its vertue—See it done.
Enter to them Queen, Aglaura, Ladies, the King addresses himselfe to Aglaura.
So early, and so curious in your dresse, (faire Mistresse?)
These prettie ambushes and traps for hearts
Set with such care to day, looke like designe:
Speake, Lady, is't a massacre resolv'd?
Is conquering one by one growne tedious sport?
Or is the number of the taken such,
[Page 4] That for your safetie you must kill out-right?
Agl.
Did none doe greater mischiefe (Sir) than I,
Heav'n would not much be troubled with sad storie,
Nor would the quarrell man has to the Starres
Be kept alive so strongly.
King.
When hee does leave't
Woman must take it up, and justly too;
For robbing of the sex and giving all to you.
Agl.
Their weakenesses you meane and I confesse Sir.
King.
The greatest subjects of their power or glorie.
Such gentle rape thou act'st upon my soule,
And with such pleasing violence dost force it still;
That when it should resist, it tamely yeilds,
Making a kinde of haste to be undone,
As if the way to victorie were losse,
And conquest came by overthrow.
Enter an Expresse delivering a Packet upon his knee.
The King reads.
Qu.
Prettie!
The Queen looking upon a flower in one of the Ladies heads.
Is it the child of nature, or of some faire hand?
La.
'Tis as the beauty Madam of some faces,
Arts issue onely.
King.
Thersames,
This concernes you most, brought you her picture?
Exp.
Somthing made up for her in hast I have.
(Presents
King.
If she does owe no part of this faire dower (the Pi­cture.
Vnto the Painter, she is rich enough.
Agl.
A kinde of merry sadnesse in this face
Becomes it much.
King.
There is indeed, Aglaura,
A prettie sullenesse drest up in smiles,
That sayes this beauty can both kill, and save.
How like you her Thersames?
Ther.
As well as any man can doe a house
By seeing of the portall, here's but a face,
And faces (Sir) are things I have not studied;
I have my dutie, and may boldly sweare.
[Page 5] What you like best will ever please me most.
King.
Spoke like Thersames, and my sonne,
Come! the day holds faire,
Let all the Hunts-men meet us in the vale,
We will uncouple there.
Exeunt.
Ariaspes: solus stayes behinde.
Ariasp.
How odd a thing a croud is unto me!
Sure nature intended I should be alone,
Had not that old doting man-mid-wife Time
Slept, when he should have brought me forth▪ I had
Been so too—
Studies and Scratches his head.
To be borne nere, and onely nere a crowne—
Enter Jolas.
Iol.
How now my Lord?
What? walking o'th 'tops of Pyramids?
Whispering your selfe away
Like a deny'd lover? come! to horse, to horse,
And I will shew you streight a sight shall please you
More than kinde lookes from her you dote upon
After a falling out.
Ariasp.
Prithee what is't?
Iol.
Ile tell you as I goe.—
Exeunt.
Enter Hunts-men hollowing and whooping.
Hunt.
Which way? which way?
Enter Thersames, Aglaura muffled.
Ther.
This is the grove 'tis somwhere here within.—
Ex.
Enter dogging of them, Ariaspes, Jolas.
Iol.
Gently! Gently!
Enter Orsames, Philan, a Huntsman, two Courtiers.
Hunts.
No hurt, my Lord, I hope.
Ors.
None, none,
Thou wouldst have warranted it to another,
If I had broke my neck:
What? dost thinke my horse and I shew tricks?
That which way soever he throwes me
Like a tumblers boy I must fall safe?

Was there a bed of roses there? would I were Eunuch [Page 6] if I had not as leif h'a falne in the state, as where I did; the ground was as hard, as if it had been pav'd with Pla­tonicke Ladies hearts, and this unconscionable fellow askes whether I have no hurt; where's my horse.

1 Court.
Making love to the next mare I thinke.
2 Court.
Not the next I assure you,
Hee's gallop't away, as if all the spurs i▪th' field
Were in his sides.
Ors.
Why there's it▪ the jades in the fashion too.
Now ha's done me an injurie, he will not come nere me.
Well when I hunt next, may it be upon a starv'd cow,
Without a saddle too.

And may I fall into a saw-pit, and not be taken up, but with suspition of having been private, with mine owne beast there. Now I better consider on't too, Gentlemen, 'tis but the same thing we doe at Court; here's every man striving who shall be formost, and hotly pursuing of what he seldome overtakes, or if he does, it's no great matter.

Phi.

He that's best hors'd (that is best friended) gets in soonest, and then all hee has to doe is to laugh at those thȧt are behind. Shall we helpe you my Lord?—

Or [...].
Prithee doe—stay!
To be in view, is to be in favour,
Is it not?
Phi.

Right,

And he that has a strong faction against him, hunts, upon a cold sent, and may in time come to a losse.

Ors.

Here's one rides two miles about, while another leapes a ditch and is in before him.

Phi.
Where note the indirect way's the nearest.
Ors.
Good againe—
Phi.

And here's another puts on, and fals into a Quag­mire, (that is) followes the Court till he has spent all (for your Court quagmire is want of money) there a man is sure to stick and then not one helps him out, if they doe not laugh at him.

1 Court.
[Page 7]
What think you of him, that hunts after my rate
And never sees the Deere?
2 Court.
Why he is like some young fellow, that follows
The Court, and never sees the King.
Ors.
To spurre a horse till he is tir'd, is
Phi.
To importune a friend till he be weary of you.
Ors.
For then upon the first occasion y'are thrown off,
As I was now.
Phi.
This is nothing to the catching of your horse Orsa­mes.
Ors.
Thou say'st true, I think he is no transmigrated
Philosopher, & therfore not likely to be taken with morals.
Gentlemen—your help, the next I hope will be yours,
And then 'twill be my turne.—
Exeunt.
Enter againe married, Thersames, Aglaura, Priest.
Thers.
Feare not my Deare, if when Loves diet
Was bare lookes and those stolne too,
He yet did thrive! what then
Will he doe now? when every night will be
A feast, and every day fresh revelrie.
Agl.
Will he not surfet, when he once shall come
To grosser fare (my Lord) and so grow sicke,
And Love once sicke, how quickly will it dye?
Ther.
Ours cannot; 'tis as immortall as the things
That elemented it, which were our soules:
Nor can they ere impaire in health, for what
These holy rites doe warrant us to doe,
More than our bodyes would for quenching thirst▪
Come let's to horse, we shall be mist,
For we are envies marke, and Court eyes carry farre.
Your prayers and silence Sir:— to the Priest.
Exeunt.
Enter Ariaspes, Jolas.
Ari.
If it succeed? I weare thee here my Jolas—
Iol.
If it succeed? will night succeed the day?
Or houres one to another? is not his lust
The Idoll of his soule? and was not she
The Idoll of his lust? as safely he might
Have stolne the Diadem from off his head▪
[Page 8] And he would lesse have mist it.
You now, my Lord, must raise his jealousie,
Teach it to looke through the false opticke feare,
And make it see all double: Tell him the Prince
Would not have thus presum'd▪ but that he does
Intend worse yet; and that his crowne and life
Will be the next attempt.
Ari.
Right▪ and I will urge
How dangerous 'tis unto the present state,
To have the creatures, and the followers
Of the next Prince (whom all now striue to please)
Too neere about him:
Iol.
What if the male-contents that use
To come unto him were discovered?
Ari.
By no meanes; for 'twere in vaine to give
Him discontent (which too must needs be done)
If they within him gav't not nourishment.
Iol.
Well▪ Ile away first, for the print's too big
If we be seene together.—
Exit.
Ari.
I have so fraught this Barke with hope, that it
Dares venture now in any storme, or weather;
And if he sinke or splits, all's one to me.
"Ambition seemes all things, and yet is none,
"But in disguise stalkes to opinion
"And fooles it into faith, for every thing:
'Tis not with th'ascending to a Throne▪
As 'tis with staires, and steps, that are the same;
For to a Crowne, each humour's a degree;
And as men change, and differ, so must wee.
The name of vertue doth the people please,
Not for their love to vertue, but their ease,
And Parrat Rumour I that tale have taught.
By making love I hold the womans grace,
'Tis the Court double key, and entrance gets
To all the little plots; the fierie spirits
My love to Armes hath drawne into my faction▪
All, but the minion of the Time, is mine,
[Page 9] And he shall be, or shall not be at all.
He that beholds a wing in pieces torne,
And knows not that to heav'n it once did beare
The high-flowne and selfe-less'ning bird will thinke
And call them idle Subjects of the winde:
When he that has the skill to imp and binde
These in right places, will thus truth discover;
That borrowed Instruments doe oft convey
The Soule to her propos'd Intents, and where
Our Stars deny▪ Art may supply—
Exit.
Enter Semanthe, Orithie, Orsames, Philan.
Sem.
Thinke you it is not then
The little jealousies (my Lord) and feares,
Joy mixt with doubt, and doubt reviv'd with hope
That crownes all love with pleasure? these are lost
When once we come to full fruition;
Like waking in the morning, when all night
Our fancie has been fed with some new strange delight.
Ors.
I grant you, Madam, that the feares, and joyes,
Hopes, and desires, mixt with despaires, and doubts,
Doe make the sport in love; that they are
The very dogs by which we hunt the Hare;
But as the dogs would stop▪ and straight give o're
Were it not for the little thing before;
So would our passions; both alike must be
Flesh▪t in the chase.
Ori.
Will you then place the happinesse, but there,
Where the dull plow-man, and the plow-mans horse
Can find it out? Shall Soules refin'd, not know
How to preserve alive a noble flame,
But let it die, burne out to appetite?
Sem.
Love's a Chamelion▪ and would live on aire,
Physick for Agues, starving is his food.
Ors.
Why? there's it now! a greater Epicure
Lives not on earth? my Lord and I have been
In's Privie kitchin, seen his bills of Fare.
Sem.
And how, and how my Lord?
Ors.
[Page 10]
A mightie Prince,
And full of curiositie—Harts newly slaine
Serv'd up intire, and stucke with little Arrowes
In stead of Cloaves—
Phi.
Sometimes a cheeke plumpt up
With broth, with creame and claret mingled
For sauce, and round about the dish
Pomegranate kernells, strew'd on leaves of Lillies.
Ors.
Then will he have black eyes, for those of late
He feeds on much, and for varietie
The gray—
Phi.
You forget his cover'd dishes
Of Jene-strayes, and Marmalade of Lips,
Perfum'd by breath sweet as the beanes first blossomes.
Sem.
Rare!
And what's the drinke to all this meat, my Lord?
Ors.
Nothing but pearle dissolv'd, teares still fresh fetch'd
From Lovers eyes, which if they come to be
Warme in the carriage, are streight cool'd with sighs.
Sem.
And all this rich proportion, perchance
We Would allow him:
Ors.
True! but therefore this is but his common diet;
Onely serves
When his chiefe Cookes, Liking and Opportunitie,
Are out o'th' way; for when hee feasts indeed,
'Tis there, where the wise people of the world
Did place the vertues, i'th' middle—Madam.
Ori.
My Lord there is so little hope we should cōvert you;
And if we should, so little got by it,
That weell not loose so much upon't as sleepe.
Your Lordships servants—
Ors.
Nay Ladies wee▪ll wait upon you to your chambers.
Ph.
Prithee lets spare the complement, we shall doe no good
Ors.
By this hand Ile try,
They keepe me fasting▪ and I must be praying.
Exeunt.
Aglaura undressing of her selfe, Jolina.
Agl.
Undresse mee:—
[Page 11] Is it not late, Iolina?
It was the longest day, this—
Enter Thersames.
Ther.
Softly, as Death it selfe comes on,
When it does steale away the sicke mans breath,
And standers by perceive it not▪
Have I trod, the way unto these lodgings.
How wisely doe those Powers
That give us happinesse, order it?
Sending us still feares to bound our joyes,
Which else would over-flow and lose themselves:
See where shee sits,
Like day retir'd into another world.
Deare mine! where all the beautie man admires
In scattered pieces▪ does united lye.
Where sense does feast▪ and yet where sweet desire
Lives in its longing▪ like a Misers eye,
That never knew, nor [...]aw sacietie:
Tell me▪ by what approaches must I come
To take in what remaines of my felicitie?
Agl.
Needs there any new ones, where the breach
Is made already? you are entred here—
Long since (Sir) here and I have giv'n up all.
Ther.
All but the Fort▪ and in such wars, as these,
Till that be yeilded up there is no peace,
Nor triumph to be made; come▪ undoe, undoe,
And from these envious clouds slide quicke
Into Loves proper Sphere, thy bed:
The wearie traveller▪ whom the busie Sunne
Hath vex't all day, and scortch▪d almost to tinder.
Nere long'd for night as I have long▪d for this.
What rude hand is that?
One knockes hastily.
Goe Iolina, see but let none enter—
Iolina goes to the doore▪
Iol.
'Tis Zeriff, Sir.
Ther.
—Oh—
Something of weight hath falne out it seemes,
Which in his zeale he could not keepe till morning.
[Page 12] But one short minute, Deare, into that chamber.—
Enter Ziriff.
How now?
Thou start'st, as if thy sinnes had met thee,
Or thy Fathers ghost; what newes man?
Zir.
Such as will send the blood of hastie messages
Unto the heart, and make it call
All that is man about you into councell?
Where's the Princesse, Sir?
Ther.
Why? what of her?
Zir.
The King must have her—
Ther.
How?
Zir.
The King must have her (Sir)
Ther.
Though feare of worse makes ill, still relish better
And this looke handsome in our friendship, Ziriff,
Yet so severe a preparation—
There needed not: come, come! what ist?
Ziriff leads him to the doore, and shewes him a Guard.
A Guard! Thersames,
Thou art lost; betray'd
By faithlesse and ungratefull man,
Out of a happinesse:—
He steps between the doore and him and drawes.
The very thought of that,
Will lend my anger so much noble justice,
That wert thou master of as much fresh life,
As th'ast been of villany, it should not serve,
Nor stocke thee out, to glorie, or repent
The least of it.
Zir.
Put up: put up! such unbecomming anger
I have not seene you weare before.
What? draw upon your friend,
Discovers himselfe.
Doe you beleeve me right now?—
Ther.
I scarce beleeve mine eyes:—
Zorannes.
Zir.
The same, but how preserv'd, or why
Thus long disguis'd to you a freer houre must speake:
That y'are betrai'd is certaine, but by whom,
Unlesse the Priest himselfe, I cannot ghesse
[Page 13] More than the marriage, though he knowes not of:
If you now send her on these early summons
Before the sparks are growne into a flame,
You to redeeme th'offence, or make it lesse;
And (on my life) yet his intents are faire,
And he will but besiege, not force affection.
So you gaine time; if you refuse, there's but
One way; you know his power and passion.
Ther.
Into how strange a labyrinth am I
Now falne! what shall I doe Zorannes?
Zir.
Doe (Sir) as Sea-men, that have lost their light
And way: strike saile, and lye quiet a while.
Your forces in the Province are not yet
In readinesse, nor is our friend Zephines
Arriv'd at Delphos; nothing is ripe, besides—
Ther.
Good heavens, did I but dreame that she was mine?
Upon imagination did I climbe up to
This height? let mee then wake and dye,
Some courteous hand snatch mee from what's to come,
And ere my wrongs have being give them end:
Zir.
How poore, and how unlike the Prince is this?
This trifle woman does unman us all;
Robs us so much, it makes us things of pittie.
Is this a time to loose our anger in?
And vainly breathe it out? when all wee have
Will hardly fill the saile of Resolution,
And make us beare up high enough for action.
Ther.
I have done (Sir) pray chide no more;
The slave whom tedious custome has enur'd
And taught to thinke of miserie as of food,
Counting it but a necessarie of life,
And so digesting it, shall not so much as once
Be nam'd to patience▪ when I am spoken of:
Marke mee; for I will now undoe my selfe
As willingly, as virgins give up all first nights
To them they love:—
Offers to goe out.
Zir.
Stay, Sir, 'twere fit Auglara yet were kept
[Page 14] In ignorance: I will dismisse the Guard,
And be my selfe againe.
Exit.
Ther.
In how much worse estate am I in now,
Than if I neare had knowne her; privation,
Is a miserie as much above bare wretchednesse,
As that is short of happinesse:
So when the Sunne does not appeare,
'Tis darker, cause it once was here.
Enter Ziriff speakes to Orsames and others halfe entred.
Zir.
Nay, Gentlemen:
There needs no force, where there is no resistance:
Ile satisfie the King my selfe.
Ther.
—Oh 'tis well y'are come,
There was within me fresh Rebellion,
And reason was almost unking'd agen.
But you shall have her Sir—
Goes out to fetch Aglaura.
Zir.
What doubtfull combats in this noble youth
Passion and reason have!—
Enter Thersames leading Aglaura.
Ther.
Here Sir—
Gives her, goes out.
Agl.
What meanes the Prince, my Lord?
Zir.
Madam, his wiser feare has taught him to disguise
His love, and make it looke a little rude at parting.
Affaires that doe concerne▪ all that you hope from
Happinesse, this night force him away:
And lest you should have tempted him to stay,
(Which hee did doubt you would and would prevaile)
He left you thus: he does desire by mee
You would this night lodge in the little tower,
Which is in my command▪ the reasons why
Himselfe will shortly tell you.
Agl.
'Tis strange, but I am all obedience—
Exeunt.

ACTUS II. SCENA I.

Enter Thersames, Jolas a Lord of the Counsell
Iol.
I Told him so, Sir, urg'd 'twas no common kn [...]
That to the tying of it two powerfull Princes,
Vertue and Love were joyn'd and that
A greater than these two was now
Ingaged in it▪ Religion; but 'twould, not doe,
The corke of passion boy'd up all reason so
That what was said▪ swam but o'th▪top of th'eare
Nere reach't the heart:
Ther.
Is there no way for Kings to shew their power,
But in their Subjects wrongs? no subject neither
But his owne sonne?
Iol.
Right Sir:
No quarrie for his lust to gorge on, but on what
You fairly had flowne at and taken:
Well—wert not the King, or wert indeed
Not you▪ that have such hopes, and such a crowne
To venter, and yet—
'Tis but a woman.
Ther.
How? that but againe▪ and thou art more enjurious
Than hee, and woul't provoke me sooner.
Iol.
Why Sir?
There are no Altars yet addrest unto her,
Nor sacrifice; if I have made her lesse
Than what she is, it was my love to you:
For in my thoughts, and here within, I hold her
The Noblest peece Nature ere lent our eyes,
And of the which▪ all women else, are but
Weake counterfeits, made up by her journey-men▪
But was this fit to tell you?
I know you value but too high all that,
[Page 16] And in a losse we should not make things more,
'Tis miseries happinesse, that wee can make it lesse
By art, through a forgetfulnesse upon our ils,
Yet who can doe it here?
When every voyce, must needs, and every face,
By shewing what she was not, shew what she was.
Ther.
Ile instantly unto him—
drawes.
Iol.
Stay Sir:
Though't be the utmost of my Fortunes hope
To have an equall share of ill with you:
Yet I could wish we sold this trifle life,
At a farre dearer rate, then we are like to doe,
Since 'tis a King's the Merchant.
Ther.
Ha!
King, I! tis indeed.
And there's no Art can canncell that high bond:
Iol.
—He cooles againe.—
(to himselfe.)
True Sir, and yet mee thinkes to know a reason—
For passive nature nere had glorious end,
And he that States preventions ever learn'd,
Knowes, 'tis one motion to strike and to defend.
Enter Serving-man.
Serv.
Some of the Lords without, and from the King,
They say, wait you.
Ther.
What subtle State tricke now?
But one turne here, and I am back my Lord.—
Exit.
Iol.
This will not doe; his resolution's like.
A kilfull horse-man and reason is the stirrop,
Which though a sudden shock may make
It loose▪ yet does it meet it handsomly agen.
Stay, 'tmust be some sudden feare of wrong
To her, that may draw on a sudden act
From him▪ and ruine from the King; for suth
A spirit will not like common ones, be
Rais'd by every spell, 'tis in loves circle
Onely 'twill appeare.
[Page 17] Enter Thersames.
Thir.
I cannot beare the burthen of my wrongs
One minute longer.
Iol.
Why! what's the matter Sir?
Thir.
They doe pretend the safety of the State
Now, nothing but my marriage with Cadusia
Can secure th'adjoyning countrey to it;
Confinement during life for me if I refuse
Diana's Nunnerie for her—And at that Nunn'rie, Iolas▪
Allegiance in me like the string of a Watch
Wound up too high and forc'd above the nicke,
Ran back, and in a moment was unravell'd all.
Iol.
Now by the love I beare to Justice,
That Nunn'rie was too severe; when vertuous love's a crime
What man can hope to scape a punishment,
Or who's indeed so wretched to desire it?
Ther.
Right!
Iol.
What answer made you, Sir!
Ther.
None, they gave me till to morrow,
And e're that be, or they or I
Must know our destinie:
Come friend let's in▪ there is no sleeping now;
For time is short, and we have much to doe.—
Exeunt▪
Enter Orsames, Philan Courtiers.
Ors.
Judge you, Gentlemen, if I be not as unfortunate
As a gamester thinks himselfe upon the losse
Of the last stake; this is the first she
I ever swore too heartily▪ and (by those eyes)
I thinke I had continued unperjur'd a whole moneth,
(And that's faire you'll say.)
1 Court.
Very faire—
Ors.
Had she not run mad betwixt.—
2 Court.
How? mad?
Who? Semanthe?
Ors.
Yea, yea, mad, aske Philan else.
People that want cleere intervalls talke not
So wildly: Ile tell you Gallants▪ 'tis now, since first I
[Page 18] Found my selfe a little hot and quivering 'bout the heart,
Some ten dayes since, (a tedious Ague) Sirs;
(But what of that?)
The gracious glance, and little whisper past,
Approches made from th'hand unto the lip.
I came to visit her, and (as you know we use)
Breathing a sigh or two by way of prologue,
Told her, that in Loves Physicke 'twas a rule,
Where the disease had birth to seeke a cure;
It had no sooner nam'd love to her, but she
Began to talke of Flames, and Flames,
Neither devouring, nor devour'd, of Aire,
And of Camelions—
1 Court.
Oh the Platoniques.
2 Court.
Those of the new religion in love! your Lord­ship's merrie,
Troth how doe you like the humor on't?
Ors.
As thou wouldst like red haire, or leannesse
In thy Mistresse; scurvily, 't does worse with handsomnesse,
Than strong desire would doe with impotence;
A meere tricke to inhance the price of kisses—
Phi.
Sure these silly women, when they feed
Our expectation so high, doe but like
Ignorant Conjurers, that raise a Spirit
Which handsomly they cannot lay againe:
Ors.
True, 'tis like some that nourish up
Young Lions till they grow so great they are affraid of
Themselves, they dare not grant at last,
For feare they shou d not satisfie.
Phi.
Who's for the Town? I must take up againe,
Ors.

This villanous Love's as changeable as the Philo­sophers Stone and thy Mistresse as hard to compasse too!

Phi.
The Platonique is ever so; they are as tedious
Before they come to the point, as an old man
Fall'n into the Stories of his youth;
2 Cour.
Or a widow into the praises of her first hus­band,
Ors.
Well if she hold out but one moneth longer,
If I doe not quite forget, I ere beleaguer'd there,
And remove the siege to another place, may all
[Page 19] The curses beguil'd virgins lose upon their perjur'd lovers
Fall upon mee.
Phi.
And thou woult deserve'em all.
Ors.
For what?
Phi.
For being in the company of those
That tooke away the Prince's Mistresse from him.
Ors.
Peace, that will be redeem'd—
I put but on this wildnesse to disguise my selfe;
There are brave things in hand, heark i'thy ear [...]:—
(Whisper)
1. Court.
Some severe plot upon a maiden-head.
These two young Lords make love,
As Embroyderers work against a Mask, night and day;
They think importunity a neerer way then merit,
And take women as Schoole-boyes catch Squirrells.
Hunt 'em up and downe till they are wearie,
And fall downe before'm.
Ors.
Who loves the Prince failes not—
Phi.
And I am one: my injuries are great as thine,
And doe perswade as strongly.
Ors.
I had command to bring thee,
Faile not and in thine owne disguise,
Phi.
Why in disguise?
Ors.
It is the Princes policie and love;
For if we should miscarrie,
Some one taken might betray the rest
Unknowne to one another,
Each man is safe, in his owne valour;
2 Court.
And what Mercers wife are you to cheapen now
In stead of his silks?
Ors.
Troth; 'tis not so well; 'tis but a Cozen of thine—
Come Philan let's along:—
Exeunt.
Enter Queene alone.
Orb.
What is it thus within whispering remorse,
And calls Love Tyrant? all powers, but his,
Their rigour, and our feare, have made divine!
But every Creature holds of him by sense,
The sweetest Tenure; yea! but my husbands brother:
[Page 20] And what of that? doe harmlesse birds or beasts
Aske leave of curious Heraldrie at all?
Does not the wombe of one faire spring,
Bring unto the earth many sweet rivers,
That wantonly doe one another chace▪
And in one bed, kisse, mingle, and embrace?
Man (Natures heire) is not by her wi [...]l ti'de,
To shun all creatures are alli'd unto him▪
For then hee should shun all; since death and life
Doubly allies all them that live by breath:
The Aire that does impart to all lifes brood,
Refreshing, is so neere to it selfe, and to us all,
That all in all is individuall:
But, how am I sure one and the same desire
Warmes Ariaspes: for Art can keepe alive
A beddred love.
Enter Ariaspes.
Ari.
Alone, (Madam) and overcast with thought,
Uncloud—uncloud—for if wee may believe
The smiles of Fortune, love shall no longer pine
In prison thus, nor undelivered travel [...]
With throes of feare, and of desire about it.
The Prince, (like to a valiant beast in nets)
Striving to force a freedome suddenly,
Has made himselfe at length, the surer prey:
The King stands only now betwixt, and is,
Just like a single tree, that hinders all the prospect:
'Tis but the cutting downe of him, and wee—
Orb.
Why would't thou thus imbarque into strange seas,
And trouble Fate, for what we have already?
Thou art to mee what thou now seek'st a Kingdome;
And were thy love as great, as thy ambition;
I should be so to thee.
Ari.
Thinke you, you are not Madam?
As well and justly may you doubt the truths,
Tortur'd, or dying men doe leave behind them:
But then my fortune turnes my miseri [...],
[Page 21] When my addition shall but make you lesse;
Shall I indure that head that wore a crowne,
For my sake should weare none? First let me lose
Th' Exchequer of my wealth, your love; nay, may
All that rich Treasurie you have about you.
Be rifled by the man I hated, and I looke on;
Though youth be full of sinne, and heav'n be just,
So sad a doome I hope they keepe not from me;
Remember what a quicke Apostacie he made,
When all his vowes were up to heav'n and you.
How, e're the Bridall torches were burnt out,
His flames grew weake, and sicklier; thinke on that,
Thinke how unsafe you are, if she should now,
Not sell her honour at a lower rate,
Than your place in his bed.
Orb.
And would not you prove false too then?
Ari.
By this—and this—loves break-fast:
(Kisses her.)
By his feasts too yet to come, by all the
Beauty in this face, divinitie too great
To be prophan'd—
Orb.
O doe not sweare by that;
Cankers may eat that flow'r upon the stalke,
(For sicknesse and mischance, are great devourers)
And when there is not in these cheeks and lips,
Left red enough to blush at perjurie,
When you shall make it, what shall I doe then?
Ari.
Our soules by that time (Madam)
Will by long [...]ustome so acquainted be,
They will not need that duller truch-man Flesh,
But freely, and without those poorer helps,
Converse and mingle; meane time wee'll teach
Our loves to speake, not thus to live by signes,
And action is his native language, Madam,
Enter Ziriff unseene.
This box but open'd to the Sense will doe't.
Orb.
I undertake I know not what,
Ari.
Thine own safety (Dearest)
[Page 22] Let it be this night, if thou do'st;
Whisper and kisse.
Love thy selfe or mee.
Orb.
That's very sudden▪
Ari.
Not if wee be so, and we must now be wise,
For when their Sun sets, ours begins to rise.—
Exeunt.
Ziriff solus.
Zir.
Then all my feares are true, and she is false;
False as a falling Star, or Glow-wormes fire:
This Devill Beauty is compounded strangely,
It is a subtill point, and hard to know,
Whether 't has in't more active tempting,
Or more passive tempted; so soone it forces,
And so soone it yeelds—
Good Gods! shee seiz'd my heart, as if from you
Sh'ad had Commission to have us'd me so;
And all mankinde besides—and see, if the just Ocean
Makes more haste to pay
To needy rivers, what it borrow'd first,
Then shee to give, where she ne're tooke;
Mee thinks I feele anger, Revenges Harbenger
Chalking up all within, and thrusting out
Of doores, the tame and softer passions;—
It must be so:
To love is noble frailtie, but poore sin
When we fall once to Love, unlov'd agen.
Exit.
Enter King, Ariaspes, Jolas.
Ari.
'Twere fit your Justice did consider, (Sir)
What way it tooke; if you should apprehend
The Prince for Treason (which he never did)
And which, unacted, is unborn; (at least will be beleev'd so)
Lookers on, and the loud talking croud,
Will thinke it all but water colours
Laid on for a time,
And which wip'd off, each common eye would see,
Strange ends through stranger wayes:
King.
Think'st thou I will compound with Treason then?
And make one feare anothers Advocate?
Iol.
[Page 23]
Vertue forbid Sir, but if you would permit,
Them to approch the roome (yet who would advise
Treason should come so neere?) there would be then
No place left for excuse.
King.
How strong are they?
Iol.
Weake, considering
The enterprize; they are but few in number,
And those few too having nothing but
Their resolutions considerable about them.
A Troope indeed design'd to suffer what
They come to execute.
King.
Who are they are thus wearie of their lives?
Jol.
Their names I cannot give you.
For those he sent for, he did still receive
At a back doore, and so dismist them too.
But I doe thinke Ziriff is one.—
King.
Take heed! I shall suspect thy hate to others,
Not thy love to me, begot this service;
This Treason thou thy selfe do'st say
Has but an houres age, and I can give accompt
Of him, beyond that time.—Brother, in the little Tower
Where now Agla [...]ra's prisoner,
You shall find him; bring him along,
Hee yet doth stand untainted in my thoughts,
And to preserve him so,
Hee shall not stirre out of my eyes command
Till this great cloud be over.
Jol.
Sir, 'twas the Prince who first—
King.
I know all that! urge it no more!
I love the man;
And 'tis with paine, wee doe suspect,
Where wee doe not dislike:
Th'art sure hee will have some,
And that they will come to night?
Jol.
As sure as night will come it selfe.
King.
Get all your Guards in readiness, we wil our selfe
Disperse them afterwards; and both be sure
[Page 24] To weare your thoughts within: Ile act the rest:
Exeunt.
Enter Philan, Orsames, Courtiers.
2. Court.
Well.—If there be not some great storme to­wards,
Ne're trust mee; Whisper (Court thunder) is in
Every corner, and there has been to day
About the Towne a murmuring
And buzzing, such as men use to make,
When they doe feare to vent their feares;
1. Court.
True, and all the States-men hang downe their heads,
Like full ear'd corne; two of them
Where I sup't, askt what time of night it was,
And when 'twas told them, started, as if
They had been to run a race.
2. Court.
The King too (if you mark him,) doth faigne mirth
And jollitie, but through them both,
Flashes of discontent, and anger make escapes:
Ors.
Gentlemen! 'tis pitty heav'n
Design'd you not to make the Almanacks.
You ghesse so shrewdly by the ill aspects,
Or neere conjunctions of the great ones,
At what's to come still; that without all doubt
The Countrey had beene govern'd wholly by you,
And plow'd and reap'd accordingly; for mee,
I understand this mysterie as little
As the new Love, and as I take it too,
'Tis much about the Time that every thing
But Owles, and Lovers take their rest;
Good night, Philan—away—
Exit.
1. Court.
'Tis early yet; let's goe on the Queens side
And foole a little; I love to warme my selfe
Before I goe to bed, it does beget
Handsome and sprightly thoughts, and makes
Our dreames halfe solid pleasures.
2. Court.
Agreed: agreed:
Exeunt.

ACTUS III. SCENA I.

Enter Prince: Conspiratours.
Ther.
COuldst thou not find cut Ziriff?
1. Court.
Not speake with him my Lord;
Yet I sent in by severall men.
Ors.
I wonder Jolas meets us not here too.
Ther.
'Tis strange, but let's on now how ere,
When Fortunes, honour, life, and all's in doubt
Bravely to dare, is bravely to get out.
Excursions:
The Guard upon them.
Ther.
Betrai'd! betraid!
Ors.
Shift for your selfe Sir, and let us alone,
Wee will secure your way, and make our own.
Exeunt.
Enter the King, and Lords.
King.
Follow Lords, and see quick execution done,
Leave not a man alive.
Who treads on fire, and does not put it out,
Disperses feare in many sparks of doubt.
Exeunt.
Enter Conspirators, and the Guard upon them.
Ors.
Stand friends, an equall party—
(Fight.) Three of the Conspirators fall, & three of the Kings side: Orsames & Philan kil the rest. They throw of their disguises.
Ph.
Brave Orsames, 'tis pleasure to die neer thee.
Ors.
Talke not of dying Philan, we will live,
And serve the noble Prince agen; we are alone,
Off then with thy disguise, & throw it in the bushes;
Quick, quick; befor the torrent comes upon us:
We shal be streight good subjects, & I despair not
Of reward for this nights service: so.—
Wee two now kill'd our friends! 'tis hard,
But 'tmust be so.
Enter Ariaspes, Jolas, two Courtiers, part of the Guard.
Ari.
Follow! Follow!
Ors.
Yes; so you may now, y'are not likely to overtake.
Jol.
[Page 26]
Orsames, and Philan, how came you hither?
Ors.
The neerest way it seems, you follow'd (thank you)
As i [...] 'thad been through quicksets:
Jol.
'Sdeath have they all escap'd?
Ors.
Not all, two of them we made sure;
But they cost deare, looke here else.
Ari.
Is the Prince there?
Phi.
They are both Princes I thinke,
They fought like Princes I am sure.
Jolas pulls off the vizors.
Jol.
Stephines, and Odîris—we trifle.
Which way tooke the rest?
Ors.
Two of them are certainly here abouts.
Ari.
Upon my life they swam the river;
Some streight to horse, and follow o're the bridge;
You and I my Lord will search this place a little better.
Ors.
Your Highnesse will I hope remember, who were
The men were in—
Ari.
Oh! fear not, your Mistresse shall know y'are valiant.
Ors.
Philan! if thou lov'st me, let's kill them upon the place.
Phi.
Fie: thou now art wild indeed;
Thou taught'st me to be wise first,
And I will now keep thee so.—Follow, follow.
Exeunt.
Enter Aglaura with a Lute.
The Prince comes and knocks within.
Ther.
Madam!
Agl.
What wretch is this that thus usurps
Upon the priviledge of Ghosts, and walks
At mid-night?
Ther.
Aglaura.
Agl.
Betray me not
My willing sense too soone, yet if that voyce
Be false.—
Ther.
Open faire Saint, and let me in.
Agl.
It is the Prince—
As willingly as those
That cannot sleep do light; welcome (Sir,)
(Opens.)
Welcome above.—
Spies his sword drawne.
[Page 27] Blesse me, what means this unsheath'd minister of death?
If, Sir, on mee quick Justice be to passe,
Why this? absence alas, or such strange lookes
As you now bring with you would kill as soone:
Ther.
Softly! for I, like a hard hunted Deere,
Have only hearded here; and though the crie
Reach not our eares, yet am I follow'd close:
O my heart! since I saw thee,
Time has been strangely Active, and begot
A Monstrous issue of unheard of Storie:
Sit; thou shalt have it all! nay, sigh not.
Such blasts will hinder all the passage;
Do'st thou remember, how wee parted last?
Agl.
Can I forget it Sir?
Ther.
That word of parting was ill plac'd, I sweare,
It may be ominous; but do'st thou know
Into whose hands I gave thee?
Agl.
Yes into Ziriffs Sir.
Ther.
That Ziriff was thy brother, brave Zorannes
Preserv'd by miracle in that sad day
Thy father fell, and since thus in disguise,
Waiting his just revenge.
Agl.
You doe amaze me, Sir.
Ther.
And must doe more, when I tell all the storie.
The King, the jealous King, knew of the marriage,
And when thou thought'st thy selfe by my direction,
Thou wert his Prisoner;
Unlesse I would renounce all right,
And cease to love thee, (ô strange, and fond request!)
Immur'd thou must have been in some sad place,
And lockt for ever, from Thersames sight.
For ever—and that unable to indure
This night, I did attempt his life.
Agl.
Was it well done Sir?
Ther.
O no! extremely ill!
For to attempt and not to act was poore:
Here the dead-doing Law, (like ill-paid Souldiers)
[Page 28] Leaves the side 'twas on, to joyne with power,
Royall villany now will looke so like to Justice,
That the times to come, and curious posteritie,
Will find no difference: weep'st thou Aglaura?
Come, to bed my Love!
And wee will there mock Tyrannie, and Fate,
Those softer houres of pleasure, and delight,
That like so many single Pearles, should have
Adorn'd our thread of life, wee will at once,
By Loves mysterious power, and this nights help
Contract to one, and make but one rich draught
Of all.
Agl.
What meane you Sir?
Ther.
To make my selfe incapable of miserie,
By taking strong preservative of happinesse:
I would this night injoy thee:
Agl.
Doe: Sir, doe what you will with mee,
For I am too much yours, to deny the right
How ever claim'd—but—
Ther.
But what Aglaura?
Agl.
Gather not reses in a wet and frowning houre,
They'll lose their sweets then, trust me they will Sir.
What pleasure can Love take to play his game out,
When death must keep the Stakes—
A noise without.
Hark Sir—grave-bringers, and last minutes are at hand,
Hide hide your selfe, for Loves sake hide your selfe.
Ther.
As soon the Sunne may hide himselfe, as I.
The Prince of Persia hide himselfe?
Agl.
O talke not Sir; the Sunne does hide himselfe then;
When night and blacknesse comes—
Ther.
Never sweet Ignorance, he shines in th'other world
And so shall I, if I set here in glorie:
Enter
Opens the doore. enter Ziriff.
Yee hastie seekers of life.
Sorannez.—
Agl.
My brother!
If all the joy within mee come not cut,
[Page 29] To give a welcome to so deare an object,
Excuse it Sir; sorrow locks up all doores.
Zir.
If there be such a Toy about you, Sister,
Keep't for your selfe, or lend it to the Prince;
There is a dearth of that Commoditie,
And you have made it Sir. Now?
What is the next mad thing you meane to doe?
Will you stay here? when all the Court's beset
Like to a wood at a great hunt and busie mischiefe hastes
To be in view, and have you in her power—
Ther.
To mee all this—
For great griefe's deafe as well as it is dumbe,
And drives no trade at all with Counsell: (Sir)
Why doe you not Tutor one that has the Plague,
And see if he will feare an after ague sit;
Such is all mischiefe now to me; there is none left
Is worth a thought. death is the worst, I know,
And that compar'd to shame, does look more lovely now
Than a chaste Mistresse, set by common woman—
And I must court it Sir?
Zir.
No wonder if that heav'n forsake us, when we leave our selves:
What is there done should feed such high despaire?
Were you but safe—
Agl.
Deare (Sir) be rul'd,
If love, be love, and magick too,
(As sure it is where it is true;)
Wee then shall meet in absence, and in spight
Of all divorce, freely enjoy together,
What niggard Fate thus peevishly denies.
Ther.
Yea: but if pleasures be themselves but dreames,
What then are the dreames of these to men?
That monster, Expectation, will devoure
All that is within our hope or power,
And e're we once can come to shew, how rich
We are, we shall be poore,
Shall we not Sorannez?
Zir.
I understand not this,
[Page 30] In times of envious penurie (such as these are)
To keepe but love alive is faire, we should not thinke
Of feasting him: come (Sir)
Here in these lodgings is a little doore,
That leads unto another; that againe,
Unto a vault that has his passage under
The little river▪ opening into the wood;
From thence 'tis but some few minutes easie businesse
Unto a Servants house of mine (who for his faith
And honestie, hereafter must
Looke big in Storie) there you are safe however;
And when this Storme has met a little calme,
What wild desire dares whisper to it selfe,
You may enjoy, and at the worst may steale:
Ther.
What shall become of thee Aglaura then?
Shall I leave thee their rages sacrifice?
And like dull Seamen threatned with a storme,
Throw all away, I have▪ to save my selfe?
Agl.
Can I be safe when you are not? my Lord?
Knowes love in us divided happinesse?
Am I the safer for your being here?
Can you give that you have not for your selfe?
My innocence is my best guard and that your stay
Betraying it unto suspition▪ takes away.
If you did love mee?—
Ther.
Grows that in question? then 'tis time to part:—
Kisses her.
When we shall meet again Heav'n onely knowes,
And when wee shall, I know we shall be old:
Love does not calculate the common way,
Minutes are houres there, and the houres are dayes,
Each day's a yeare and every yeare an age;
What will this come to thinke you?
Zir.
Would this were all the ill,
For these are pretty little harmlesse nothings;
Times horse runs full▪ as fast, hard borne and curb'd,
As in his full carreere, loose-rain'd and spurr'd:
Come, come, let's away.
Ther.
[Page 31]
Happinesse, such as men lost in miserie
Would wrong in naming, 'tis so much above them.
A [...]l that I want of it, all you deserve,
Heav'n send you in my absence.
Agl.
And miserie such as wittie malice would
Lay out in curses, on the thing it hates,
Heav'n send me in the stead if when y'are gone
I welcome it, but for your sake alone.—
Exeunt. Leads him out, & en­ters up out of the vault.
Zir.
Stir not from hence, Sir, til you hear from me
So goodnight deare Prince.
Ther.
Goodnight deere friend.
Zir.
When we meet next all this will but advance—
Joy never feasts so high,
As when the first course is of miserie.
Exeunt.

ACTUS IV. SCENA I.

Enter three or foure Courtiers.
1 Court.
BY this light—a brave Prince,
He made no more of the Guard, than they
Would of a Taylor on a Maske night, that has refus'd
Trusting before.
2 Court.
Hee's as Active as he is valiant too;
Did'st mark him how he stood like all the points
O'th' Compasse, and as good Pictures,
Had his eyes, towards every man.
3 Court.
And his sword too,
All th'other side walk up and down the Court now,
As if they had lost their way, and stare,
Like Grey-hounds, when the Hare has taken the furze.
1 Court.
Right.
And have more troubles about'em
Than a Serving-man that has forgot his message
When he's come upon the place.—
2 Court.
Yonder's the King within chafing, & swearing
Like an old Falconer upon the first flight
Of a young Hawke, when some Clowne
Has taken away the quarrie from her;
And all the Lords stand round about him,
As if he were to be baited, with much more feare,
And at much more distance,
Than a Countrey Gentlewoman sees the Lions the first time:
Look: he's broke loose.
Enter King and Lords.
King.
Find him; or by Osiris selfe, you all are Traitours;
And equally shall pay to Justice; a single man,
And guiltie too, breake through you all!
Enter Ziriff.
Zir.
Confidence!
(Thou paint of women, and the States-mans wisdome,
[Page 33] Valour for Cowards, and of the guilties Innocence,)
Assist me now.
Sir, send these Starers off:
I have some businesse will deserve your privacie.
King.
Leave us.
Jol.
How the villaine swells upon us?—
Exeunt.
Zir.
Not to punish thought,
Or keepe it long upon the wrack of doubt,
Know Sir,
That by corruption of the waiting woman,
The common key of secrets, I have found
The truth at last, and have discover'd all:
The Prince your Sonne was by Aglaura's meanes,
Convey'd last night unto the Cypresse Grove,
Through a close vault that opens in the lodgings:
Hee does intend to joyne with Carimania,
But e're he goes, resolves to finish all
The rites of Love, and this night meanes
To steale what is behind.
King.
How good is Heav'n unto mee!
That when it gave me Traitours for my Subjects,
Would lend me such a Servant!
Zir.
How just (Sir) rather,
That would bestow this Fortune on the poore.
And where your bountie had made debt so infinite
That it grew des [...]erate, their hope to pay it—
King.
Enoug [...] of that, thou do'st but gently chide
Me for a fault, hat I wîll mend; for I
Have been toopoore, and low in my rewards
Unto thy▪ vert [...]e: but to our businesse;
The questio [...] is, whether we shall rely
Upon our Guards agen?
Zir.
[...]y no meanes Sir:
Hope [...] his future fortunes, or their Love
Unto his person, has so sicklied o're
Their resolutions, that we must not trust them,
Besides, it were but needlesse here▪
[...] [Page 24] [...] [Page 25] [...] [Page 26] [...] [Page 27] [...] [Page 28] [...] [Page 29] [...] [Page 30] [...] [Page 31] [...] [Page 32] [...] [Page 33]
[Page 34] Hee passes through the vault alone, and I
My selfe durst undertake that businesse,
If that were all, but there is something else,
This accident doth prompt my zeale to serve you in.
I know you love Aglaura (Sir) with passion,
And would enjoy her; I know besides
Shee loves him so▪ that whosoe're shall bring
The tidings of his death, must carrie back
The newes of hers, so that your Justice (Sir)
Must rob your hope: but there is yet a way—
King.
Here! take my heart; for I have hitherto
Too vainly spent the treasure of my love,
I'le have it coyn'd streight into friendship all,
And make a present to thee.
Zir.
If any part of this rich happinesse.
(Fortune prepares now for you) shall owe it selfe
Unto my weake endeavours, I have enough,
Aglaura without doubt this night expects
The Prince, and why
You should not then supply his place by stealth,
And in disguise—
King.
I apprehend thee Ziriff,
But there's difficultie—
Zir.
Who trades in love must be an adventurer, (Sir)
But here is scarce enough to make the pleasure dearer:
I know the Cave; your Brother and my selfe
With Iolas, (for those w'are sure doe hae him,)
With some few chosen more betimes wll wait
The Princes passing through the vault; i [...] hee
Comes first, hee's dead; and if it be yourselfe,
Wee will conduct you to the chamber door [...] ▪
And stand 'twixt you and danger afterwards.
King.
I have conceiv'd of joy, and am grown [...]reat:
Till I have safe deliverance, time's a cripple
And goes on crutches.—as for thee my Ziriff,
I doe here entertaine a friendship with thee,
Shall drowne the memorie of all patternes past;
[Page 35] Wee will oblige by turnes; and that so thick,
And fast, that curious studiers of it,
Shall not once dare to cast it up, or say
By way of ghesse, whether thou or I
Remaine the debtors, when wee come to die.
Exeunt.
Enter Semanthe, Orithie, Philan, Orsames, Lords and Ladies.
Ori.
Is the Queen ready to come out?
Phi.
Not yet sure the Kings brother is but newly entred;
Sem.
Come my Lord, the Song then.
Ori.
The Song.
Ors.
A vengeance take this love, it spoyles a voyce
Worse than the losing of a maiden-head.
I have got such a cold with rising
And walking in my shirt a nights, that
A Bittorne whooping in a reed is better musicke.
Ori.
This modestie becomes you as ill, my Lord,
As wooing would us women; pray, put's not to't.
Ors.
Nay Ladies, you shall finde mee,
As free, as the Musicians of the woods
Themselves; what I have, you shall not need to call for▪
Nor shall it cost you any thing.
[Page 36]

SONG.

WHy so pale and wan fond Lover?
Prithee why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevaile?
Prithee why so pale?
Why so dull and mute young Sinner?
Prithee why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing doo't?
Prithee why so mute?
Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move
This cannot take her;
If of her selfe shee will not Love,
Nothing can make her,
The Devill take her.
Ori.
I should have ghest, it had been the issue of
Your braine, if I had not been told so;
Ors.
A little foolish counsell (Madam) I gave a friend
Of mine foure or five yeares agoe, when he was
Falling into a Consumption.—
Enter Queene.
Orb.
Which of all you have seene the faire prisoner
Since shee was confinde?
Sem.
I have Madam.
Orb.
And how behaves shee now her selfe?
Sem.
As one that had intrench'd so deepe in Innocence▪
Shee fear'd no enemies, beares all quietly,
And smiles at Fortune, whil'st shee frownes on her
Orb.
So gallant! I wonder where the beautie lies
[Page 37] That thus inflames the royall bloud?
Ori.
Faces, Madam, are like bookes, those that do study them
Know best, and to say truth, 'tis still
Much as it pleases the Courteous Reader.
Orb.
These Lovers sure are like Astronomers,
That when the vulgar eye discovers, but
A Skie above, studded with some few stars,
Finde out besides strange fishes, birds, and beasts.
Sem.
As men in sicknesse scorch'd into a raving
Doe see the Devill, in all shapes and formes,
When standers by wondring, aske where, and when;
So they in Love, for all's but feaver there,
And madnesse too.
Orb.
That's too severe Semanthe;
But we will have your reasons in the parke;
Are the doores open through the Gardens?
Lo.
The King has newly led the way.
Exeunt.
Enter Ariaspes: Ziriff, with a warrant sealed.
Ari.
Thou art a Tyrant, Ziriff: I shall die with joy.
Zir.
I must confesse my Lord; had but the Princes ills
Prov'd sleight, and not thus dangerous,
Hee should have ow'd to me, at least I would
Have laid a claime unto his safetie; and
Like Physicians, that doe challenge right
In Natures cures, look'd for reward and thanks;
But since 'twas otherwise, I thought it best
To save my selfe, and then to save the State.
Ari.
'Twas wisely done.
Zir.
Safely I'me sure, my Lord! you know 'tis not
Our custome, where the Kings dislike, once swells to hate,
There to ingage our selves; Court friendship
Is a Cable, that in stormes is ever cut,
And I made bold with it; here is the warrant seal'd
And for the execution of it, if you thinke
We are not strong enough, we may have
Iolas, for him the King did name.
Ari.
[Page 38]
And him I would have named.
Zir.
But is hee not too much the Prince's (Sir?)
Ari.
Hee is as lights in Sceanes at Masques,
What glorious shew so e're he makes without▪
I that set him there, know why, and how;
Enter Jolas.
But here he is.—
Come Jolas; and since the Heav'ns decreed,
The man whom thou should'st envie, should be such,
That all men else must doo't; be not asham'd
Thou once wert guiltie of it;
But blesse them, that they give thee now a meanes,
To make a friendship with him▪ and vouchsafe
To find thee out a way to love, where well
Thou couldst not hate.
Jol.
What meanes my Lord?
Ari.
Here, here he stands that has preserv'd us all!
That sacrific'd unto a publique good,
(The dearest private good we mortalls have)
Friendship: gave into our armes the Prince,
When nothing but the sword (perchance a ruine)
Was left to doe it.
Iol.
How could I chide my love, and my ambition now,
That thrust me upon such a quarrell? here I doe vow—
Zir.
Hold doe not vow my Lord, let it deserve it first;
And yet (if Heav'n blesse honest mens intents)
'Tis not Impossible.
My Lord, you will be pleas'd to informe him in particu­lars,
I must be gone.—
The King I feare already has been left
Too long alone.
Ari.
Stay—the houre and place.
Zir.
Eleven, under the Tarras walke;
I will not faile you there.
Goes out, returns back again.
I had forgot:—
'Tmay be, the small remainder of those lost men
That were of the conspiracie, will come along with him:
'Twere best to have some chosen of the Guard
[Page 39] Within our call—
Exit Ziriff.
Ari.
Honest, and carefull Ziriff:
Jolas stands musing.
How now Planet strooke?
Iol.
This Ziriff will grow great with all the world,
Ari.
Shallow man short [...]ghteder than Travellers in mists,
Or women that outlive themselves; do'st thou not see,
That whil'st hee does prepare a Tombe with one hand
For his friend, he digs a Grave with th'other for himselfe?
Iol.
How so?
Ari.
Do'st thinke hee shall not feele the weight of this,
As well as poore Thersames?
Iol.
Shall wee then kill him too at the same instant?
Ari.
And say, the Prince made an unluckie thrust.
Iol.
Right.
Ari.
Dull, dull, he must not dye so uselesly.
As when we wipe off filth from any place,
We throw away the thing that made it cleane,
So this once done, hee's gone.
Thou know'st the People love the Prince, to their rage
Something the State must offer up; who fitter
Than thy rivall and my enemy?
Iol.
Rare! our witnesse will be taken.
Ari.
Pish! let me alone.
The Giants that made mountaines ladders,
And thought to take great Iove by force, were fooles:
Not hill on hill, but plot on plot, does make
Us sit above, and laugh at all below us.—
Exeunt▪
Enter Aglaura, and a Singing Boy.
Boy.
Madam▪ 'twill make you melancholly,
I'le sing the Prince's Song, that's sad enough.
Agl.
What you will Sir.
[Page 40]

SONG.

NO, no, faire Heretique, it needs must bee
But an ill Love in mee,
And worse for thee.
For were it in my Power,
To love thee now this hower,
More than I did the last;
I would then so fall,
I might not Love at all;
Love that can flow, and can admit increase,
Admitts as well an Ebb and may grow lesse.
2
True Love is stil the same; the torrid Zones,
And those more frigid ones,
It must not know:
For Love growne cold or hot,
Is Lust, or Friendship, not
The thing wee have;
For that's a flame would die,
Held downe, or up to high▪
Then think I love more than I can expresse,
And would love more, could I but love thee lesse.
Agl.
Leave mee! for to a Soule, so out of Tune,
As mine is now; nothing is harmony:
When once the maine-spring, Hope, is falne into
Disorder; no wonder, if the lesser wheeles,
Desire, and Ioy, stand still; my thoughts like Bees
[Page 41] When they have lost their King, wander
Confusedly up and downe, and settle no where.
Enter Orithie.
Orithie.
flie! flie the roome,
As thou would'st shun the habitations
Which Spirits haunt, or where thy nearer friends
Walk after death; here is not only Love,
But Loves plague too—misfortune; and so high,
That it is sure infectious!
Ori.
Madam, so much more miserable am I this way than you,
That should I pitie you, I should forget my selfe:
My sufferings are such, that with lesse patience
You may indure your owne, than give mine Audience.
There is that difference, that you may make
Yours none at all, but by considering mine!
Agl.
O speake them quickly then! the marriage day
To Passionate Lovers never was more welcome,
Than any kinde of ease would be to mee now.
Ori.
Could they be spoke, they wre not then so great.
I love, and dare not say I love; dare not hope,
What I desire; yet still too must desire—
And like a starving man brought to a feast,
And made say grace, to what he nere shall taste,
Be thankfull after all, and kisse the hand,
That made the wound thus deepe.
Agl.
'Tis hard indeed, but with what unjust scales,
Thou took'st the weight of our mis-fortunes,
Be thine owne Judge now.
Thou mourn'st for losse of that thou never hadst,
Or if thou hadst a losse, it never was
Of a Thersames.
Would'st thou not thinke a Merchant mad, Orithie?
If thou shouldst see him weepe, and teare his haire,
Because hee brought not both the Indies home?
And wouldst not thinke his sorrowes very just.
If having fraught his ship with some rich Treasure,
Hee sunke i'th' very Port? This is our case.
Ori.
[Page 42]
And doe you thinke there is such odds in it?
Would Heaven we women could as easily change
Our fortunes as ('tis said) we can our minds.
I cannot (Madam) thinke them miserable,
That have the Princes Love.
Agl.
Hee is the man then—
Blush not Orithie, 'tis a sinne to blush
For loving him, though none at all to love him.
I can admit of rivalship without
A jealousie—nay shall be glad of it:
Wee two will sit, and thinke▪ and think and sigh,
And sigh, and talke of love—and of Thersames.
Thou shalt be praising of his wit, while I
Admire he governes it so well:
Like this thing, said thus, th'other thing thus done,
And in good language him for these adore,
While I want words to doo't, yet doe i [...] more.
Thus will wee doe▪ till death it selfe shall us
Divide, and then whose fate 'tshall be to die
First of the two by legacie shall all
Her love bequeath, and give her stock to her
That shall survive; for no one stock can serve.
To love Thersames so as he'll deserve.
Enter King, Ziriff.
King.
What have we here impossibilitie?
A constant night, and yet within the roome
That, that can make the day before the Sunne?
Silent Aglaura too?
Agl.
I know not what you say:
Is't to your pitie, or your scorne, I owe
The favour of this visit (Sir?) for such
My fortune is, it doth deserve them both:
King.
And such thy beauty is, that it makes good
All Fortunes, sorrow lookes lovely here;
And there's no man, that would not entertaine
His griefes as friends, were he but sure they'd shew
No worse upon him—but I forget my selfe,
[Page 43] I came to chide.
Agl.
If I have sinn'd so high, that yet my punishment
Equalls not my crime,
Doe Sir; I should be loth to die in debt
To Justice, how ill soe▪re I paid
The scores of Love.—
King.
And those indeed thou hast but paid indifferently
To me, I did deserve at least faire death,
Not to be murthered thus in private:
That was too cruell, Mistresse.
And I doe know thou do'st repent, and wilt
Yet make me satisfaction:
Agl.
What satisfaction Sir?
I am no monstet, never had two hearts;
One is by holy vowes anothers now,
And could I give it you, you would not take it,
For 'tis alike impossible for mee,
To love againe, as you love Perjurie.
O Sir! consider, what a flame love is.
If by rude meanes you thinke to force a light,
That of it selfe it would not freely give,
You blow it out, and leave your selfe i'th' darke.
The Prince once gone, you may as well perswade
The light to stay behinde, when the Sun posts
To th'other world, as mee; alas! wee two,
Have mingled soules more than two meeting brooks;
And whosoever is design'd to be
The murtherer of my Lord, (as sure there is,
Has anger'd heav'n so farre that 'tas decreed
Him to encrease his punishment that way)
Would he but search the heart, when he has done,
Hee there would find Aglaura murther'd too.
King.
Thou hust o'recome me, mov'd so handsomely
For pitie, that I will dis-inherit
The elder brother, and from this houre be
Thy Convert, not thy Lover.—
Ziriff, dispatch away—
[Page 44] And he that brings newes of the Prince's welfare,
Looke that he have the same reward, we had decreed
To him, brought tidings of his death.
'Tmust be a busie and bold hand, that would
Unlinke a chaine the Gods themselves have made:
Peace to thy thoughts: Aglaura—
Exit.
Ziriff steps back and speakes.
Zir.
What e're he sayes beleeve him not Aglaura▪
For lust and rage ride high within him now:
He knowes Thersames made th'escape from hence,
And does conceale it only for his ends:
For by the favour of mistake and night,
He hopes t'enjoy thee in the Prince's roome;
I shall be mist—else I would tell thee more;
But thou mayest ghesse, for our condition
Admits no middle wayes, either we must
Send them to Graves, or lie our selves in dust—
Exit.
Aglaura stands still and studies.
Agl.
Ha! 'tis a strange Act thought puts me now upon;
Yet sure my brother meant the selfe-same thing,
And my Thersames would have done 't for me:
To take his life that seekes to take away
The life of Life, (honour from me;) and from
The world▪ the life of honour, Thersames;
Must needs be something sure, of kin to Justice.
If I doe faile, th'attempt howe're was brave,
And I shall have at worst a handsome grave—
Exit.
Enter Jolas, Semanthe.
Semanthe steps backe, Jolas stayes her.
Jol.
What? are we growne, Semanthe, night, and day?
Must one still vanish when the other comes?
Of all that ever Love did yet bring forth
(And 'thas been fruitfull too) this is
The strangest issue.—
Sem.
What my Lord?
Jol.
Hate Semanthe.
Sem.
You doe mistake, if I doe shun you, 'tis,
[Page 45] As bashfull Debtors shun their Creditors,
I cannot pay you in the selfe-same coyne,
And am asham'd to offer any other.
Jol.
It is ill done Semanthe, to plead bankrupt,
When with such ease you may be out of debt;
In loves dominions, native commoditie
Is currant payment, change is all the Trade,
And heart for heart the richest merchandize,
Sem.
'Twould here be mean my Lord, since mine would prove
In your hands but a Counterfeit, and yours in mine
Worth nothing; Sympathy, not greatnesse,
Makes those Jewells rise in value.
Iol.
Sympathy! ô teach but yours to love then,
And two so rich no mortall ever knew.
Sem.
That heart would Love but ill that must be taught,
Such fires as these still kindle of themselves.
Iol.
In such a cold, and frozen place as is
Thy breast? how should they kindle of themselves
Semanthe?
Sem.
Aske how the Flint can carrie fire within?
'Tis the least miracle that Love can doe:
Jol.
Thou art thy selfe the greatest miracle,
For thou art faire to all perfection,
And yet do'st want the greatest part of beautie,
Kindnesse▪ thy crueltie (next to thy selfe,)
Above all things on earth takes up my wonder.
Sem.
Call not that crueltie, which is our fate,
Beleeve me Iolas the honest Swaine
That from the brow os some steepe cliffe far off,
Beholds a ship labouring in vaine against
The boysterous and unruly Elements, ne're had
Lesse power, or more desire to help than I;
At every sigh, I die, and every looke,
Does move; and any passion you will have
But Love, I have in store: I will be angrie,
Quarrell with destinie, and with my selfe
That itis no better; be melancholy;
[Page 46] And (though mine owne disa [...]ers well might plead
To be in chiefe,) yours only shall have place,
I'le pitie, and (if that's too low) I'le grieve,
As for my sinnes, I cannot give you ease;
All this I doe, and this I hope will prove
'Tis greater Torment not to love, than Love.—
Exit.
Iol.
So perishing Sailours pray to stormes,
And so they heare agen. So men
With death about them, looke on Physitians that
Have given them o're, and so they turne away:
Two fixed Stars that keep a constant distance,
And by lawes made with themselves must know
No motion excentrick, may meet as soone as wee:
The anger that the foolish Sea does shew,
When it does brave it out, and rore against
A stubborne rock that still denies it passage,
Is not so vaine and fruitlesse, as my prayers.
Yee mighty Powers of Love and Fate, where is
Your Justice here? It is thy part (fond Boy)
When thou do'st find one wounded heart, to make
The other so, but if thy Tyranny
Be such, that thou willt leave one breast to hate,
If we must live, and this survive,
How much more cruell's Fate?—
Exit.

ACTUS V. SCENA I.

Enter Ziriff, Ariaspes, Iolas.
Iol.
A Glorious night!
Ari.
Pray Heav'n it prove so.
Are wee not there yet?
Zir.
'Tis about this hollow.
Enter the Cave.
Ari.
How now! what region are we got into?
Th'enheritance of night;
Are we not mista [...]en a tur [...]ing Ziriff,
And stept into some m [...]lancholy Devils Territorie?
Sure 'tis a part of the first Chaos,
That would endure no change.
Zir.
No matter Sir, 'tis as proper for our purpose,
As the Lobbie for the waiting womans.
Stay you here, I'le move a little backward,
And so we shall be sure to put him past
Retreat: you know the word if't be the prince.
(Goes to the mouth of the Cave.
Enter King.
Here Sir, follow me, all's quiet yet.—
King.
Hee is not come then?
Zir.
No.
King.
Where's Ariaspes?
Zir.
Waiting within.
He leads him on, steps behind him, gives the false word they kill the king.
Iol.
I do not like this waiting,
Nor this fellowes leaving us.
Ari.
This place does put odd thoughts into thee,
Then thou art in thine owne nature too, as jealous
As either Love or Honor: Come weare thy sword in rea­dinesse,
And thinke how neere we are a Crowne.
Zir.
Revenge!
So let's drag him to the light and search
His pockets, there may be papers there that will
[Page] Discover the rest of the Conspiratours.
Iolas, your hand—
Draw him out.
Jol.
Whom have we here? the King!
Zir.
Yes, and Zorannes too. Illo! hoe!—
Enter Pasithas and others.
Unarme them.
D'ee stare?
This for my Fathers injuries & mine:
Points to the Kings dead body.
Halfe Love, halfe Duties Sacrifice,
This—for the noble Prince, an offering to friendship:
(runs at Jolas.
Iol.
Basely! and tamely—
Dies.
Ari.
What hast thou done?
Zir.
Nothing—kill'd a Traytour,
So—away with them, and leave us,
Pasithas be onely you in call.
Ari.
What do'st thou pawse?
Hast thou remorse already murtherer?
Zir.
No foole: 'tis but a difference I put
Betwixt the crimes: Orbella is our quarrell;
And I doe hold it fit, that love should have
A nobler way of Justice, than Revenge
Or Treason; follow me out of the wood,
And thou shalt be Master of this againe:
And then, best arme and title take it.
They go out & enter agen.
There—
Gives him his Sword.
Ari.
Extreamly good! Nature tooke paines I sweare,
The villaine and the brave are mingled handsomely.
Zir.
'Twas Fate that tooke it when it decreed
Wee two should meet, nor shall they mingle now
Wee are brought together strait to part.—
Fight.
Ari.
Some Devill sure has borrowed this shape.
Pawse.
My Sword ne're stay'd thus long to find an entrance.
Zir.
To guiltie men, all that appeares is Devill,
Come Trifler, come.—
Fight againe, Ariaspes falls.
Ari.
Whither whither, thou fleeting Coward life?
Bubble of Time▪ Natures shame, stay; a little, stay!
Till I have look'd my selfe into revenge,
And star'd this Traytour to a carkasse first.
[Page 49] —It will not be:—
Falls.
The Crowne, the Crowne, too
Now is lost, for ever lost—oh!—
Ambition's, but an Ignis fatuns, I see
Misleading fond mortalitie,
That hurries us about, and sets us downe
Just—where—wee—first—begun—
Dies.
Zir.
What a great spreading mightie thing this was,
And what a nothing now? how soone poore man
Vanishes into his noone-tide shadow?
But hopes o're fed have seldom better done:—
(Hollows.)
Take up this lump of vanity, and honour,
Enter Pasithas.
And carry it the back way to my lodging,
There may be use of States-men, when th'are dead:
So.—for the Cittadell now, for in such times
As these, when the unruly multitude
Is up in swarmes, and no man knowes which way
They'll take, 'tis good to have retreat.
Exeunt.
Enter Thersames.
Ther.
The Dog-star's got up high, it should be late:
And sure by this time every waking eare,
And watchfull eye is charm'd; and yet me thought
A noyse of weapons struck my eare just now.
'Twas but my fancie sure, and were it more,
I would not tread on step, that did not lead
To my Aglaura, stood all his Guard betwixt,
With lightning in their hands;
Danger! thou Dwarfe drest up in Giants clothes,
That shew'st farre off, still greater than thou art:
Goe, terrifie the simple, and the guiltie, such
As with false Opticks, still doe looke upon thee.
But fright not Lovers, wee dare looke on thee
In thy worst shape, and meet thee in them too.
Stay—These trees I made my marke, 'tis hereabouts▪
—Love guide me but right this night,
And Lovers shall restore thee back againe
Those eyes the P [...]ts tooke so boldly from thee.
Exit
[Page 50] Aglaura with a torch in one hand and a dagger in the other.
Agl.
How ill this does become this hand how much the worse
This suits with this, one of the two should goe.
The shee within mee sayes, it must be this—
Honor sayes this—and honour is Thersames friend.
What is that shee then? it is not a thing
That sets a Price, not upon me, but on
Life in my name, leading me into doubt,
Which when 'tas done, it cannot light me out.
For feare does drive to Fate, or Fate if wee
Doe flie, oretakes, and holds us, till or death,
Or infamie, or both doth seize us.—
Puts out the light.
Ha!—would 'twere in agen.
Antiques and strange mishapes,
Such as the Porter to my Soule, mine Eye,
Was ne're acquainted with, Fancie lets in,
Like a distracted multitude, by some strange accident
Piec'd together, feare now afresh comes on,
And charges Love to home.
—Hee comes—he comes—
Woman, if thou would'st be the Subject of mans wonder,
Not his scorne hereafter▪ now shew thy selfe.
Enter Prince rising from the vault she stabs him two or thre [...] times, hee falls she goes back to her chamber.
Sudden and fortunate.
My better Angell sure did both infuse
A strength, and did direct it.
Enter Ziriff.
Zir.
Aglaura!
Agl.
Brother—
Zir.
The same.
So slow to let in such a long'd for Guest?
Must Joy stand knocking Sister? come, prepare,
Prepare.—
The King of Persia's comming to you strait!
The King!—marke that.
Agl.
I thought how poore the Joyes you brought with you,
[Page 51] Were in respect of those that were with me:
Joyes, are our hopes stript of their feares,
And such are mine; for know, deare Brother,
The King is [...]ome already, and is gone—marke that.
Zir.
Is this instinct, or riddle? what King? how gone?
Agl.
The Cave will tell you more—
Zir.
Some sad mistake—thou hast undone us all.
Goes out, enters ha­stily a­gaine.
The Prince! the Prince! cold as the bed of earth
He lies upon, as senslesse too; death hangs
Upon his lips.
Like an untimely frost, upon an early Cherrie;
The noble Guest, his Soule, tooke it so ill
That you should use his old Acquaintance so,
That neither pray'rs, nor teares, can e're perswade
Him back againe.—
Aglaura swounes: rubs her.
Hold hold! wee cannot sure part thus!
Sister! Aglaura! Thersames is not dead,
It is the Prince that calls—
Agl.
The Prince, where?—
Tell me, or I will strait goe back againe,
Into those groves of Gessemine, thou took'st me from,
And finde him out, or lose my selfe for ever.
Zir.
For ever.—I: there's it!
For in those Groves thou talk'st of,
There are so many by-wayes, and odd rurnings.
Leading unto such wild and dismall places,
That should we goe without a guide, or stir
Before Heav'n calls, 'tis strongly to be feared
We there should wander up and downe for ever,
And be benighted to eternitie!—
Agl.
Benighted to eternitie?—What's that?
Zir.
Why 'tis to be benighted to eternitie;
To sit i'th' darke, and doe I know not what;
Unriddle at our owne sad cost and charge,
The doubts the learned here doe onely move—
Agl.
What place have murtherers brother there? for sure
The murtherer of the Prince must have
[Page 52] A punishment that Heaven is yet to make.—
Zir.
How is religion fool'd betwixt our loves,
And feares? poore Girle, for ought that thou hast done,
Thy Chaplets may be faire and flourishing,
As his in the Elysium:
Agl.
Doe you thinke so?
Zir.
Yes, I doe thinke so.
The juster Judges of our Actions,
Would they have been severe upon
Our weaknesses,
Would (sure) have made us stronger.—
Fie! those teares
A Bride upon the marriage day as properly
Might shed as thou, here widowes doo't
And marrie next day after:
To such a funerall as this, there should be
nothing common—
Wee'll mourne him so, that those that are alive
Shall thinke themselves more buried far than hee;
And wish to have his grave, to find his Obsequies:
But stay—the Body.
Brings up the body, she swoun [...] and dies.
Agen! Sister— Aglaura—
O speake once more, once more looke out faire Soule.—
Shee's gone.—
Irrevocably gone.—And winging now the Aire,
Like a glad bird broken from some cage:
Poore Bankrupt heart, when 'thad not wherewithall
To pay to sad disaster all that was its due,
It broke—would mine would doe so too.
My soule is now within mee
Like a well metled Hauke, on a blind Faulk'ners fist,
Me thinkes I feele it baiting to be gone:
And yet I have a little foolish businesse here
On earth; I will dispatch:—
Exit.
Enter Pasithas, with the body of Ariaspes.
Pas.

Let me be like my burthen here, if I had not as lieve kill two of the Bloud-royall for him, as carrie one [Page 53] of them; These Gentlemen of high actions are three times as heavie after death, as your private retir'd ones; looke if he be not reduc'd to the state of a Cour­tier of the second forme now? and cannot stand upon his owne legs, nor doe any thing without helpe, Hum.—And what's become of the great Prince, in prison as they call it now, the toy within us, that makes us talke, and laugh, and fight, I! why there's it, well, let him be what he will, and where he will, I'le make bold with the old Tenement here. Come Sir—come along:—

Exit.
Enter Ziriff.
Zir.
All's fast too, here—
They sleepe to night
I'their winding sheets I thinke, there's such
A generall quiet.
Oh! here's light I warrant:
For lust does take as little rest, as care, or age.—
Courting her glasse, I sweare, fie! that's a flatterer Madam,
In me you shal see trulier what you are.
(Knocks. Ent. the Queen
Orb.
What make you up at this strange houre my Lord?
Zir.
My businesse is my boldnesse warrant,
(Madam)
And I could well afford t'have been without it now,
Had Heav'n so pleas'd.
Orb.
'Tis a sad Prologue,
What followes in the name of vertue?
Zir.
The King.
Orb.
I: what of him? is well is he not?
Zir.
Yes.—
If to be free from the great load
Wee sweat and labour under, here on earth
Be to be well, he is.
Orb.
Why hee's not dead, is hee?
Zir.
Yes Madam, slaine—and the Prince too▪
Orb.
How? where?
Zir.
I know not, but dead they are.
Orb.
Dead?
Zir.
[Page 54]
Yes Madam.
Orb.
Did'st see them dead?
Zir.
As I see you alive.
Orb.
Dead!
Zir.
Yes, dead.
Orb.
Well, we must all die;
The Sisters spin no cables for us mortalls▪
Th'are thred; and Time, and chance—
Trust me I could weepe now,
But watrie distillations doe but ill on graves,
They make the lodging colder.
She knocks.
Zir.
What would you Madam?
Orb.
Why my friends, my Lord!
I would consult and know, what's to be done.
Zir.
Madam 'tis not so safe to raise the Court;
Things thus unsetled, if you please to have—
Orb.
Where's Ariaspes?
Zir.
In's dead sleepe by this time I'm sure,
Orb.
I know he is not! find him instantly.
Zir.
I'm gone,—
Turnes back againe.
But Madam, why make you choyce of him, from whom
If the succession meet disturbance,
All must come of danger?
Orb.
My Lord, I am not yet so wise, as to be jealous;
Pray dispute no further.
Zir.
Pardon me Madam, if before I goe
I must unlock a secret unto you; such a one
As while the King did breathe durst know no aire,
Zorannes lives.
Orb.
Ha!
Zir.
And in the hope of such a day as this
Has lingred out a life, snatching, to feed
His almost famish'd eyes,
Sights now and then of you, in a disguise.
Orb.
Strange! this night is big with miracle!
Zir.
If you did love him, as they say you did,
And doe so still; 'tis now within your power!
Orb.
[Page 55]
I would it were my Lord, but I am now
No private woman, If I did love him once
(And 'tis so long agoe, I have forgot)
My youth and ignorance may well excus't.
Zir.
Excuse it?
Orb.
Yes, excuse it Sir.
Zir.
Though I confesse I lov'd his father much.
And pitie him, yet having offer'd it
Unto your thoughts: I have discharg'd a trust;
And zeale shall stray no further.
Your pardon Madam:
Exit.
Queen studies.
Orb.
May be 'tis a plot to keep off Ariaspes
Greatnesse, which hee must feare, because he knowes
He hates him: for these great States-men,
That when time has made bold with the King & Subject,
Throwing down all fence that stood betwixt their power
And others right, are on a change,
Like wanton Salmons comming in with flouds,
That leap o're wyres and nets, and make their way
To be at the returne to every one a prey.
Enter Ziriff, and Pasithas throwing down the dead body of Ariaspes.
Orb.
Ha! murthered too!
Treason—treason—
Zir.
But such another word, and halfe so loud,
And th'art,—
Orb.
Why? thou wilt not murther me too?
Wilt thou villaine?
Zir.
I do not know my temper—
Discovers himselfe▪
Looke here vaine thing, and see thy sins full blowne:
There's scarce a part in all this face, thou hast
Not been forsworn by, and Heav'n forgive thee for't!
For thee I lost a Father, Countrey, friends,
My selfe almost, for I lay buried Long;
And when there was no use thy love could pay
Too great, thou mad'st the principle away:
Had I but staid, and not began revenge
[Page 56] Till thou had'st made an end of changing,
I had had the Kingdome to have kill'd:
As wantons entring a Garden, take
The first faire flower, they meet, and
Treasure't in their laps.
Then seeing more, do make fresh choyce agen,
Throwing in one and one, till at the length
The first poor flower o're-charg'd, with too much weight
Withers, and dies:
So hast thou dealt with mee,
And having kill'd me first, I will kill—
Orb.
Hold—hold—
Not for my sake, but Orbella's (Sir) a bare
And single death is such a wrong to Justice,
I must needs except against it.
Find out a way to make me long a dying;
For death's no punishment, it is the sense,
The paines and feares afore that makes a death:
To thinke what I had had, had I had you,
What I have lost in losing of my selfe;
Are deaths farre worse than any you can give:
Yet kill me quickly, for if I have time,
I shall so wash this soule of mine with teares,
Make it so fine, that you would be afresh
In love with it, and so perchance I should
Again come to deceive you.
Sherises up weeping, & hanging down her head▪
Zir.
So rises day, blushing at nights deformitie:
And so the prettie flowers blubber'd with dew,
And ever washt with raine, hang downe their heads,
I must not looke upon her:
(Goes towards him.)
Orb.
Were but the Lillies in this face as fresh
As are the Roses; had I but innocence
Joyn'd to their blushes, I should then be bold,
For when they went on begging they were ne're deni'de,
'Tis but a parting kisse Sir—
Zir.
I dare not grant it.—
Orb.
Your hand Sir then, for that's a part I shall
[Page 57] Love after death (if after death we love)
'Cause it did right the wrong'd Zorannes, here—
Steps to him, and opens the box of poyson, Zorannes falls.
Sleepe, sleepe for ever, and forgotten too,
All but thy ills, which may succeeding time
Remember, as the Sea-man does his marks,
To know what to avoyd, may at thy name
All good men start, and bad too, may it prove
Infection to the Aire, that people dying of it
May help to curse thee for me.
(Turnes to the body of A­riaspes.
Could I but call thee back as eas'ly now;
But that's a Subject for our teares, not hopes!
There is no piecing Tulips to their stalks,
When they are once divorc'd by a rude hand;
All we can doe is to preserve in water
A little life, and give by couretous Art
What scanted Nature wants Commission for,
That thou shalt have: for to thy memorie
Such Tribute of moyst sorrow I will pay,
And that so purifi'd by love, that on thy grave
Nothing shall grow but Violets & Primroses,
Of which too, some shall be
Of the mysterious number, so that Lovers shall
Come thither not as to a tomb, but to an Oracle.
She knocks, and raises the Court.
Enter Ladies and Courtiers, as out of their beds.
Orb.
Come! come! help me to weep my selfe away,
And melt into a grave, for life is but
Repentance nurse, and will conspire with memorie,
To make my houres my tortures.
Ori.
What Scene of sorrow's this? both dead?
Orb.
Dead? I! and 'tis but halfe death's triumphs this,
The King and Prince lye somewhere, just
Such empty truncks as these.
Ori.
The Prince?
Then in griefes burthen I must beare a part.
Sem.
The noble Ariaspes—valiant Ziriff too.—
Weeps.
Orb.
Weep'st thou for him, fond Prodigall? do'st know
[Page 58] On whom thou spend'st thy teares? this is the man
To whom we owe our ills; the false Zorannes
Disguis'd, not lost; but kept alive, by some
Enter Pasithas, sur­veys the bodyes, finds his Master▪
Incensed Power, to punish Persia thus:
He would have kill'd me too, but Heav'n was just,
And furnisht me with meanes, to make him pay
This score of villanie, e're he could do more.
Pas.
Were you his murth'rer then?—
Pasithas runs at her, kills her, and flies.
Ori.
Ah me! the Queene.—
Rub her till she come to her selfe.
Sem.
How doe you Madam?
Orb.
Well,—but I was better, and shall—
Dies.
Sem.
Oh! she is gone for ever.
Enter Lords in their night-gownes, Orsames, Philan.
Ors.
What have we here?
A Church-yard? nothing but silence, and grave?
Ori.
Oh! here has been (my Lords)
The blackest night the Persian world e're knew,
The King and Prince are not themselves exempt
From this arrest; but pale and cold, as these,
Have measured out their lengths.
Lo.
Impossible! which way?
Sem.
Of that we are as ignorant as you:
For while the Queene was telling of the Storie,
An unknowne villaine here has hurt her so,
That like a sickly Taper, she but made
One flash, and so expir'd:
Enter tearing in Pasithas.
Phi.
Here he is, but no confession.
Or.
Torture must force him then:
Though 'Twill indeed, but weakly satisfie
To know now they are dead, how they did die.
Phi.
Come take the bodies up, and let us all
Goe drowne our selves in teares, this massacre
Has left so torne a State, that 'twill be policie
Aswell as debt, to weep till we are blinde,
For who would see the miseries behinde?

Epilogue.

OVr Play is done, and yours doth now begin:
What different Fancies, people now are in?
How strange, and odd a mingle it would make,
If e're they rise; 'twere possible to take
All votes.—
But as when an authentique Watch is showne,
Each man wi [...]des up, and rectifies his owne,
So in our very Judgements; first there sits
A grave Grand Jurie on it of Towne-wits;
And they give up their verdict; then agin
The other Jurie of the Court comes in
(And that's of life and death) for each man sees
That oft condemnes, what th' other Jurie frees:
Some three dayes hence, the Ladies o [...] the Towne
Will come to have a Judgement of their owne:
And after them, their servants; then the Citie,
For that is modest, and is still last wittie.
'Twill be a weeke at least yet e're they have
Resolv'd to let it live, or give't a grave:
Such difficultie, there is to unite
Opinion; or bring it to be right.

Epilogue for the Court.

SIR:
THat th' abusing of your eare's a crime,
Above th' excuse any six lines in [...]
Can make, the Poet knowes: I am but sen [...]
T' intreat hee may not be a President,
For hee does thinke that in this place the [...]e hee
Many have done't as much and more than hee
But here's, he sayes, the difference of the Fates,
Hee begs a Pardon after't, they Estates.
FINIS.
AGLAURA. REPRESENTED …

AGLAURA. REPRESENTED At the Court, by his Ma­jesties Servants.

Written by Sir JOHN SVCKLING.

LONDON, Printed for Tho Walkley, and are to be sold by Humphrey Moseley, at his shop, at the signe of the Princes armes in St. Pauls Church-yard, 1646.

[Page] Prologue.

FOre love, a mighty Sessions: and I feare,
Though kind last Sizes, 'twill be now severe;
For it is thought, and by judicious men,
Aglaura 'scap't onely by dying then:
But 'twould be vaine for mee now to indeare,
Or speake unto my Lords, the Judges here,
They hold their places by condemning still,
And cannot shew at once mercie and skill;
For wit's so cruell unto wit, that they
Are thought to want, that find not want ith' play,
But Ladies you, who never lik'd a plot.
But where the Servant had his Mistresse got,
And whom to see a Lover dye it grieves,
Although 'tis in worse language that he lives,
Will like't w are confident, since here will bee,
That your Sex ever lik'd varietie.

Prologue to the Court.

TIs strange perchance (you'll thinke) that she that di' d [...]
At Christmas, should at Easter be a Bride:
But 'tis a privilege the Poets have,
To take the long-since dead out of the grave:
Nor is this all, old Heroes a sleepe
'Twixt marble coverlets, and six foot deep [...]
[Page] In earth, they boldly wake, and make them doe
All they did living here—sometimes more too,
They give fresh life, reverse and alter Fate,
And yet more bold, Almightie-like create:
And out of nothing onely to deifie
Reason, and Reasons friend, Philosophie,
Fame, honour, valour, all that's great, or good,
Or is at least 'mongst us, so understood,
They give, heav'ns theirs, no handsome woman dies,
But if they please, is strait some star i'th' skies—
But oh—
How those poore men of Meetre doe
Flatter themselves with that, that is not true,
And 'cause they can trim up a little prose,
And spoile it handsomly, vainly suppose
Th' are Omnipotent, can doe all those things
That can be done onely by Gods and Kings.
Of this wild guilt, hee faine would bee thought free,
That writ this Play, and therefore (Sir) by mee,
Hee humbly begs, you would be pleas'd to know,
Aglaura's but repriev'd this night, and though
Shee now appeares upon a Poets call,
Shee's not to live, unlesse you say shee shall.

ACTUS V. SCENA I.

Enter Ziriff, Pasithas, and Guard: hee places 'em: and Exit. A State set out. Enter Ziriff, Jolas, Ariaspes.
Iol.
A Glorious night!
Ari.
Pray Heav'n it prove so.
Are wee not there yet?
Zir.
'Tis about this hollow.
They Enter the Cave.
Ari.
How now! what region are we got into?
Th'enheritance of night;
Have wee not mistaken a turning Ziriff,
And stept into the confines of some melancholy
Devils Territorie?
Iol.
Sure 'tis a part of the first Chaos,
That would not suffer any change.
Zir.
No matter Sir, 'tis as proper for our
Purpose, as the Lobbie for the waiting womans.
Stay you here, I'le move a little backward,
And so we shall be sure to put him past
Retreat: you know the word if it be the prince.
Ziriff goes to the doore
Enter King.
Ziriff.
Here Sir, follow me, al [...]'s quiet yet.
King.
Is hee not come then?
Zir.
No.
King.
Where's Ariaspes?
Zir.
Waiting within.
Iol.
I do not like this waiting,
Nor this fellowes leaving of us.
Ari.
This place does put odd thoughts into thee.
Then thou art in thine owne nature too,
As jealous, as Love, or Honour; weare thy sword
In readinesse, and thinke how neere we are a Crowne.
Zir.
[Page 66]
Revenge!—
Guard seiseth on'em.
King.
Ha! what's this?
Zir.
Bring them forth.—
Brings them forth.
Ari.
The King.
Zir.
Yes, and the Princes friend—
Discovers himselfe.
D'you know this face?
King.
Zorannes.
Zor.
The very same,
The wrong'd Zorannes,—King—
D you stare.—
Away with them where I appointed.
King.
T [...]aytours, let mee goe;
Villaine, thou dar'st not doe this—
Zor.
Poore Counterfeit,
How faine thou now would'st act a King and art not:
Stay you,—
to Ariaspes.
Unhand him,—
Whispers.
Leave us now.—
Exeunt. Manet Ariasp. Zoran.
Ari.
What does this meane?
Sure hee does intend the Crowne to mee.
Zor.
Wee are alone▪
Follow mee out of the wood, and thou shalt be
Master of this againe,
And then best a [...]me and title take it.
Ari.
Thy offer is so noble, in gratitude Icannot
But propound gentler conditions,
Wee will divide the Empire.
Zor.
Now by my fathers soule,
I doe almost repent my first intents,
And now could kill thee scurvily, for thinking
If I had a minde to rule
I would not rule alone,
Let not thy easie faith (lost man)
Foole thee into so dull an heresie;
Orbella is our quarrell, & I have thought it fit,
That love should have a nobler way of Justice,
Than Revenge, or Treason.
[Page 67] If thou dar'st die handsomly, follow me.
Ex. And enter both agen
Zor.
There,—
Gives him his sword.
Ari.
Extremely good; Nature tooke paines I sweare,
The villaine and the brave are mingled handsomely:—
Zir.
'Twas Fate that tooke it, when it decreed
Wee two should meet, nor shall they mingle now,
Wee are but brought together strait to part.—
Fight.
Ari.
Some Devill sure has borrowed this shape,
My sword ne're staid thus long to finde an entrance.
Zir.
To guiltie men, all that appeare is Devill;
Come trifler come.—
Fight.
Ari.
Dog, thou hast it,
Zir.
Why then it seemes my star's as great as his,
Ariaspes pants, and runs at him to catch his sword
I smile at thee,
Thou now would'st have me kill thee,
And 'tis a courtesie I cannot afford thee,
I have bethought my selfe, there will be use
Of thee,— Pasithas—to the rest with him.
Exit.
Enter Pasithas, and two of the Guard.—Exeunt.
Enter Thersames.
Ther.
The Dog-star's got up high, it should be late:
And sure by this time every waking eare
And watchfull eye is charm'd; and yet mee thought
A noyse of weapons struck my eare just now.
'Twas but my Fancie sure, and were it more,
I would not tread one step, that did not lead
To my Aglaura, stood all his Guard betwixt,
With lightning in their hands.
Danger, thou Dwarfe drest up in Giants clothes,
That shew'st far off still greater than thou art,
Goe, terrifie the simple, and the guiltie, such
As with false Opticks still doe looke upon thee:
But fright not Lovers▪ wee dare looke on thee
In thy worst shapes and meet thee in them too.—
Stay these trees I made my marke, tis hereabouts,
—Love guide mee but right this night,
And Lovers shall restore thee back againe
[Page 68] Those eyes the Poets tooke so boldly from thee.
Exit.
A Taper Table out.
Enter Aglaura, with a Torch in one hand, a Dagger in the other.
Agl.
How ill this does become this hand? much worse
This suits with this, one of the two should goe.
The shee within mee sayes, it must be this—
Honor sayes this—and honour is Thersames friend.
What is that shee then? is it not a thing
That sets a Price, not upon me, but on
Life in my name, leading me into doubt,
Which when 'tas done it cannot light me out.
For feare does drive to Fate, or Fate if wee
Doe flie, oretakes, and holds us, till or death,
Or infamie, or both doe seize us.—
Puts out the light.
Ha!—would 'twere in agen. Antiques & strange mishapes,
Such as the Porter to my Soule, mine Eye,
Was ne're acquainted with, Fancie lets in,
Like a disrouted multitude, by some strange accident
Piec'd together, feare now afresh comes on,
And charges Love too home.
—Hee comes, he comes.—
A little noyse below.
Woman, if thou would'st be the Subject
Of mans wonder, Not his scorne hereafter,—
—Now shew thy selfe.
Enter Thersames from the vault, she stabs him as hee riseth.
Ther.
Unkindly done—
Agl.
The Princes voyce, defend it Goodnesse?
Ther.
What art thou that thus poorely
Hast destroy'd a life?
Agl.
Oh sad mistake, 'tis hee?
Ther.
Hast thou no voyce?
Agl.
I would I had not, nor a being neither.
Ther.
Aglaura, it cannot be?
Agl.
Oh still beleeve so, Sir,
For 'twas not I Indeed, but fatall Love.
Ther.
[Page 69]
Loves wounds us'd to be gentler than these were,
The paines they give us have some pleasure
In them, and that these have not.
Enter Ziriff with a taper.
Oh doe not say 'twas you, for that does wound agen:
Guard me my better Angell,
Doe I wake? my eyes (since I was man)
Ne're met with any object gave them so much trouble,
I dare not aske neither to be satisfied,
Shee lookes so guiltily—
Agl.
Why doe you stare and wonder at a thing
That you your selfe have made thus mizerable?
Zir.
Good gods, and I o'the partie too.
Agl.
Did you not tell me that the King this night
Meant to attempt my honour; that our condition
Would not admit of middle wayes, and that we must
Send them to graves, or lye our selves in dust?
Zir.
Unfortunate mistake?
Ziriff knocks.
I never did intend our safety by thy hands:
Enter Pasithas.
Pasithas, goe instantly and fetch Andrages
From his bed; how is it with you Sir?
Ther.
As with the besieg'd:
My soule is so beset it does not know,
Whether't had best to make a desperate
Sally out by this port or not?
Agl.
Sure I shall turne statue here.
Ther.
If thou do'st love me, weepe not Aglaura:
All those are drops of bloud and flow from me.
Zir.
Now all the gods defend this way of expiation,
Think'st thou thy crime, Aglaura would be lesse,
By adding to it? or canst thou hope
To satisfie those powers, whom great sins
Doe displease, by doing greater.
Agl.
Discourteous courtesie!
I had no other meanes left mee than this,
To let Thersames know I would doe nothing
To him, I would not doe unto my selfe,
And that thou takest away.
Ther.
[Page 70]
Friend, bring me a little neerer,
I find a kind of willingnesse to stay
And find that willingnesse something obey'd.
My bloud now it perswades it selfe
You did not call in earnest,
Makes not such hast.—
Agl.
Oh my dearest Lord,
This kindnesse is so full of crueltie,
Puts such an uglinesse on what I have done,
That when I looke upon it needs must fright
Me from my selfe, and which is more insufferable.
I feare from you.
Ther.
Why should that fright thee, which most comforts mee?
I glorie in it, and shall smile i'th' grave
To thinke our love was such, that nothing
But it selfe could e're destroy it.
Agl.
Destroy it? can it have ever end?
Will you not be thus courteous then in the other world?
Shall we not be together there as here?
Ther.
I cannot tell whether I may or not.
Agl.
Not tell?
Ther.
No:
The Gods thought me unworthy of thee here,
And when thou art more pure
Why should I not more doubt it?
Agl.
Because if I shall be more pure,
I shall be then more fit for you.
Our Priests assure us an Elysium,
And can that be Elysium where true Lovers
Must not meet? Those Powers that made our loves,
Did they intend them mortall,
Would sure have made them of a courser stuffe,
Would they not my Lord?—
Ther.
Prethee speake still,
This musique gives my soule such pleasing businesse,
Takes it so wholly up, it findes not leisure to
Attend unto the summons death does make;
[Page 71] Yet they are loud and peremptorie now,
And I can onely—
Faints.
Agl.
Some pitying Power inspire me with
A wa [...] to follow him: heart wilt thou not
Breake it of thy selfe.
Zir.
My grie [...]es besot me:
His sou [...]e will sai [...]e out with this purple tide,
And I shall here be found staring
After't like a man that's come too short o'th' ship,
And's left behind upon the land.
Shee swounes.
Enter Andrages.
Oh welcome, we come here lyes Andrages
Alas too great a tr [...]all for thy art.
And.
There's life in him: from whence these wounds?
Zir.
Oh 'tis no time for storie.
And.
'Tis not mortall my Lord, bow him gently,
And help me to infuse this into him;
The sou e is but asleepe and not gone forth.
Ther.
Oh—ho:—
Zir.
Hearke▪ the Prince does live.
Ther.
What e're thou art hast given me now a life,
And with it all my cares and miseries,
Expect not a reward no not a thanks.
If thou would'st merit from me,
(Yet wh would be guilty of so lost an action)
Restore me to my quietnesse agen,
For life and that are most incompatible.
Zir.
Still in despaires:
I did not thinke till now 'twas in the power
Of Fortune to have robb'd Thersames of himselfe,
For pitie, Sir▪ and reason live;
If you will die die not Aglaura's murther'd,
That's not so handsome: at least die not
Her murthered and her murtherer too;
For that will surely follow. Looke up, Sir,
This violence of Fortune cannot last ever:
Who knowes but all these clouds are shadowes,
[Page 72] To set off your fairer dayes, if it growes blacker,
And the stormes doe rise, this harbour's alwayes open.
Ther.
What say'st thou▪ Aglaura?
Agl.
What sayes Andrages?
And.
Madam, would Heaven his mind would admit
As eafie cure, as his body will,
'Twas onely want of bloud,
And two houres rest restores him to himselfe.
Zir.
And by that time it may be Heaven
Will give our miseries some ease:
Come Sir, repose upon a bed,
There's time enough to day.
Ther.
Well, I will still obey,
Though I must feare it will be with me,
But as 'tis with tortured men,
Whom States preserve onely to wrack agen.
Exeunt.
Take off table.
Enter Ziriff with a taper.
Zir.
All fast too, here
They sleepe to night
I'their winding sheets, I thinke, there's such
A generall quiet.
Oh! here's light I warrant you:
For lust does take as little rest, as care, or age.
Courting her glasse, I swear, fie! that's a flatterer Madam,
In me you shall see trulier what you are▪
He knocks, Enter Queen.
Orb.
What make you up at this strange houre, my Lord?
Zir.
My businesse is my boldnesse warrant,
(Madam)
And I could well afford t'have been without it now,
Had Heav'n so pleas'd.
Orb.
'Tis a sad Prologue,
What followes in the name of vertue?
Zir.
The King—
Orb.
I: what of him? is well, is he not?
Zir.
Yes,—
If to be on's journey to the other world
[Page 73] Be to be well, hee is.
Orb.
Why he's not dead, is he?
Zir.
Yes, Madam, dead.
Orb.
How? where?
Zir.
I doe not know particulars.
Orb.
Dead!
Zir.
Yes (Madam.)
Orb.
Art sure hee's dead?
Zir.
Madam, I know him as certainly dead,
As I know you too must die hereafter.
Orb.
Dead!
Zir.
Yes, dead.
Orb.
We must all die.
The Sisters spin no cables for us mortalls;
Th'are threds; and Time, and chance—
Trust me I could weep now,
But watrie distillations doe but ill on graves,
They make the lodging colder.
Shee knocks.
Zir.
What would you Madam?
Orb.
Why my friends, my Lord;
I would consult and know what's to be done.
Zir.
(Madam) 'tis not so safe to raise the Court;
Things thus unsetled, if you please to have—
Orb.
Where's Ariaspes?
Zir.
In's dead sleepe by this time sure,
Orb.
I know he is not! find him instantly.
Zir.
I'm gone,—
Turnes back againe.
But Madam, why make you choyce of him, from whom
If the succession meet disturbance,
All must come of danger?
Orb.
My Lord, I am not yet so wise, as to be
Jealous; Pray dispute no further.
Zir.
Pardon me (Madam) if before I goe
I must unlock a secret to you; such a one
As while the King did breathe durst know no aire,
Zorannes lives.
Orb.
Ha!
Zir.
[Page 74]
And in the hope of such a day as this
Has lingred out a life, snatching, to feed
His almost famish'd eyes,
Sights now and then of you, in a disguise.
Orb.
Strange! this night is big with miracle!
Zir.
If you did love him, as they say you did,
And doe so still; 'tis now within your power!
Orb.
I would it were, my Lord, but I am now
No private woman, if I did love him once,
(as 'tis so long agoe, I have forgot)
My youth and ignorance may well excus't.
Zir.
Excuse it?
Orb.
Yes, excuse it Sir.
Zir.
Though I confesse I lov'd his father much▪
And pitie him, yet having offer'd it
Unto your thoughts: I have discharg'd a trust;
And zeale shall stray no further.
(Your pardon Madam:)
Exit.
Orb.
May be 'tis but a plot to keep off Ariaspes
Greatnesse which he must feare, because he knowes
Hee hates him: for these great States-men,
That when time has made bold with the King
And Subject, throwing downe all fence
That stood betwixt their power
And others right, are on a change,
Like wanton Salmons comming in with flouds,
That leap o're wyres and nets and make their way
To be at the returne to every one a prey.
Enter Ziriff.
Zir.
Looke here vaine thing and see thy sins full blown:
There's scarce a part in all this face, thou hast
Not been forsworne by, and Heav'n forgive thee for't!
For thee I lost a Father, Countrey, friends,
My selfe almost, for I lay buried long;
And when there was no use thy love could pay
Too great, thou mad'st the principle away:—
Prompt.
As wantons entring a Garden, take
[Page 75] The first faire flower they meet, and
Treasur't in their laps.
Then seeing more, doe make fresh choyce agen,
Throwing in one and one, till at the length
The first poor flower o're-charg'd, with too much weight
Withers and dies:
So hast thou dealt with me,
And having kill'd me first, I will kill—
Orb.
Hold—hold—
Not for my sake, but Orbella's (Sir) a bare
And single death is such a wrong to Justice,
I must needs except against it.
Find out a way to make me long a dying;
For death's no punishment, it is the sense,
The paines and feares afore that makes a death:
To thinke what I had had, had I had you,
What I have lost in losing of my selfe;
Are deaths farre worse than any you can give:
Yet kill me quickly, for if I have time,
I shall so wash this soule of mine with teares,
Make it so fine, that you would be afresh
In love with it, and so perchance I should
Again come to deceive you.
She rises up weeping, & hanging down her head.
Zir.
So rises day, blushing at nights deformitie:
And so the prettie flowers blubber'd with dew,
And over washt with raine, hang downe their heads▪
I must not looke upon her:
(Queen Goe [...] towards him.)
Orb.
Were but the Lillies in this face as fresh
As are the Roses; had I but innocence
Joyn'd to these blushes, I should then be bold,
For when they went a begging they were ne're deni'de,
'Tis but a parting kisse Sir—
Enter Pasithas, and two Guard.
Zir.
I dare not grant it.— Pasithas—away with her.
A bed put [...]t. Thersames and Aglaura on it, Andrages by.
Ther.
Shee wake't me with a sigh,
And yet shee sleepes her selfe, Sweet Innocence,
[Page 76] Can it be sinne to love this shape,
And if it be not, why am I persecuted thus?—
Shee sighs agen, sleepe that drownes all cares,
Cannot I see charme loves? blest pillowes,
Through whose finenesse does appeare
The Violets, Lillies and the Roses
You are stuft withall, to whose softnesse
I owe the sweet of this repose,
Permit me to leave with you this,—
Kisses them, shee wakes.
See if I have not wake't her,
Sure I was borne, Aglaura, to destroy
Thy quiet.
Agl.
Mine, my Lord,
Call you this drowsinesse a quiet then?
Beleeve me, Sir, 'twas an intruder I much
Struggled with, and have to thanke a dreame,
Not you, that it thus left me.
Ther.
A dreame! what dreame, my Love?
Agl.
I dreamp't (Sir) it was day,
And the feare you should be found here.
Enter Ziriff.
Zir.
Awake; how is it with you, Sir?
Ther.
Well, extreamly well, so well, that had I now
No better a remembrancer than paine,
I should forget I e're was hurt,
Thanks to Heav'n, and good Andrages.
Zir.
And more than thanks I hope we yet shall
Live to pay him. How old's the night?
And.
Far-spent I feare, my Lord.
Zir.
I have a cause that should be heard
Yet ere day breake and I must needs intreat
You Sir to be the Judge in't.
Ther.
What cause Zorannes?
Zir.
When you have promis'd—
(Zorannes.
Ther.
'Twere hard I should deny thee any thing.—
Exit
Know'st thou, Andrages, what he meanes?
And.
Nor cannot ghesse, Sir,—
Draw in the bed.
[Page 77] I read a trouble in his face, when first
Hee left you, but understood it not.
Enter Zorannes, King Ariaspes, Jolas, Queene and two or three Guard.
Zor.
Have I not pitcht my nets like a good Huntsman?
Looke, Sir, the noblest of the Herd are here.
Ther.
I am astonished.
Zor.
This place is yours.—
Helps him up.
Ther.
What wouldst thou have me doe.
Zor.
Remember, Sir, your promise,
I could doe all I have to doe, alone;
But Justice is not Justice unlesse't be justly done:
Here then I will begin, for here began my wrongs.
This woman (Sir) was wondrous faire, and wondrous
Kinde,—I, faire and kind, for so the storie runs,
She gave me looke for looke, and glance for glance,
And every sigh like eccho's was return'd,
Wee sent up vow by vow, promise on promise,
So thick and strangely multiplyed,
That sure we gave the heavenly Registers
Their businesse, and other mortalls oaths
Then went for nothing, we felt each others paines,
Each others joyes, thought the same thought,
And spoke the very same;
Wee were the same and I have much a doe
To thinke she could be ill, and I not
Be so too, and after this, all this (Sir)
Shee was false, lov'd him, and him,
And had I not begun revenge,
Till she had made an end of changing,
I had had the Kingdome to have killd,
What does this deserve?
Ther.
A punishment he best can make
That suffered the wrong.
Zor.
I thanke you, Sir,
For him I will not trouble you,
His life is mine, I won it fairly,
[Page 78] And his is yours, he lost it foully to you—
To him (Sir) now:
A man so wicked that he knew no good,
But so as't made his sins the greater for't.
Those ills, which singly acted bred despaire
In others, he acted daily, and ne're thought
Upon them.
The grievance each particular has against him
I will not meddle with, it were to give him
A long life, to give them hearing,
I'le onely speake my owne.
First then the hopes of all my youth,
And a reward which Heaven had settled on me,
(If holy contracts can doe any thing)
He ravisht from me, kill'd my father,
Aglaura's father, Sir, would have whor'd my sister,
And murther'd my friend, this is all:
And now your sentence, Sir.
Ther.
We have no punishment can reach these crimes:
Therefore 'tis justest sure to send him where
Th'are wittier to punish than we are here:
And cause repentance oft stops that proceeding,
A sudden death is sure the greatest punishment.
Zor.
I humbly thanke you Sir.
King.
What a strange glasse th▪have shew'd me now my selfe
In; our sins like to our shadowes,
When our day is in its glorie scarce appear'd,
Towards our evening how great and monstrous
They are.
Zor.
Is this all you have to say?—
Drawes.
Ther.
Hold:—now goe you up.
Zor.
What meane you, Sir?
Ther.
Nay, I denyed not you,—
That all thy accusations are just,
I must acknowledge,
And to these crimes, I have but this t'oppose,
Hee is my Father, and thy Soveraigne.—
[Page 79] 'Tis wickednesse (deare Friend) wee goe about
to punish, and when w'have murther'd him,
What difference is there 'twixt him and
Our selves, but that hee first was wicked?—
Thou now would'st kill him 'cause he kill'd thy Father,
And when th'hast kill'd, have not I the selfe same
Quarrell?
Zor.
Why Sir, you know you would your selfe
Have done it.
Ther.
True: and therefore 'tis I beg his life,
There was no way for mee to have
Redeem'd th'intent, but by a reall
Saving of it.
[...]e ready Courtiers, and Guard, with their swords drawne, at the brests of the Prisoners.
If he did ravish from thee thy Orbella,
Remember that that wicked issue had
A noble parent Love,—Remember
How he lov'd Zorannes when he was Ziriff,—
Ther's something due to that.
If you must needs have bloud for your revenge,
Take it here—despise it not Zorannes:
Zorannes turnes away.
The gods themselves, whose greatnesse
Makes the greatnesse of our sins,
And heightens'em above what wee can doe
Unto each other, accept of sacrifice
For what wee doe 'gainst them,
Why should not you, and 'tis much thriftier too:
You cannot let out life there, but my honour
Goes, and all the life you can take here,
Posterity will give mee back agen;
See, Aglaura weepes:
That would have beene ill Rhetorique in mee,
But where it is, it cannot but perswade.
Zor.
Th'have thaw'd the ice about my heart;
I know not what to doe.
King.
Come downe come downe, I will be King agen,
There's none so fit to be the Judge of this
As I; the life you shew'd such zeale to save,
[Page 80] I here could willingly returne you back;
But that's the common price of all revenge.
Enter Guard, Orsames, Philan, Courtiers, Orithie, Semanthe.
Jol. Ari.
Ha, ha, ha: how they looke now?
Zor.
Death: what's this?
Ther.
Betray'd agen;
All th'ease our Fortune gives our miseries is hope,
And that still proving false, growes part of it.
King.
From whence this Guard?
Ari.
Why Sir, I did corrupt, while we were his pri­soners,
One of his owne to raise the Court; shallow soules,
That thought wee could not countermine,
Come Sir, y'are in good posture to dispatch them.
King.
Lay hold upon his instrument:
Fond man, do'st thinke I am in love with villany?
All the service they can doe mee here
Is but to let these see the right I doe
Them now is unconstrain'd, then thus I doe proceed.
Upon the place Zorannes lost his life,
I vow to build a tomb, and on that tomb
I vow to pay three whole yeares penitence,
If in that time I finde that heaven and you
Can pardon; I shall finde agen the way
To live amongst you.
Ther.
Sir be not so cruell to your selfe this is an age,—
King.
'Tis now irrevocable, thy Fathers lands
I give thee back agen, and his commands;
And with them, leave to weare the Tyara,
That man there has abus'd.—
To you Orbella,
Who it seemes are foule as well as I,
I doe prescribe the selfe same physick
I doe take my selfe:
But in another place, and for a longer time,
Diana's Nunnerie.
Orb.
Above my hopes.
King.
[Page 81]
For you, who still have beene
The ready instrument of all my cruelties,
And there have cancell'd all the bonds of brother,
Perpetuall banishment: nor, should
This line expire, shall thy right have a place.
Ari.
Hell and Furies.—
Exit.
King.
Thy crimes deserve no lesse; yet 'cause thou wert
Heavens instrument to save my life,
Thou onely hast that time of banishment,
I have of penitence.—
Comes down. Ziriff offers to kisse the Kings hand
Jol.
May it be plague and famine here till I returne.
No: thou shalt not yet forgive mee:
King.
Aglaura thus I freely part with thee,
And part with all fond flames and warme desires,
I cannot feare new agues in my bloud
Since I have overcome the charmes
Thy beauty had, no other ever can
Have so much power, Thersames, thou look'st pale,
Is't want of rest?
Ther.
No Sir; but that's a storie for your eare—
They whisper.
Ors.
A strange and happy change.
Ori.
All joyes wait on you ever.
Agl.
Orithie
How for thy sake now could I wish
Love were no Mathematick point,
But would admit division, that Thersames might.
Though at my charge, pay thee the debt he owes thee▪
Ori.
Madam, I loved the Prince, not my selfe;
Since his vertues have their full rewards,
I have my full desires.
King.
What miracles of preservation have wee had?
How wisely have the stars prepar'd you for felicitie?
Nothing endeares a good more than the contemplation
Of the difficultie wee had to attaine to it:
But see, Nights Empire's out,
And a more glorious auspitiously does begin;
Let us goe serve the gods, and then prepare
[Page 82] For jollitie, this day Ile borrow from my vowes.
Nor shall it have a common celebration;
Since't must be,
A high record to all posteritie.—
Exeunt omnes.

Epilogue.

PLays are like Feasts, and every Act should bee
Another Course, and still varietie:
But in good faith provision of wit
Is growne of late so difficult to get,
That doe wee what wee can, wee are not able,
Without cold meats to furnish out the Table.
Who knowes but it was needlesse too? may bee
'Twas here, as in the Coach-mans trade; and hee
That turnes in the least compasse, shewes most Art:
How e're, the Poet hopes (Sir) for his part,
You'll like not those so much, who shew their skill
In entertainment, as who shew their will.
FINIS.
THE GOBLINS A Comedy …

THE GOBLINS A Comedy. Presented at the Private House in Black-Fryers, by His Majesties servants.

WRITTEN By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.

LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Signe of the Prin­ces Armes in S t Pauls Churchyard. MDCXLVI.

PROLOGUE.

WIt in a Prologue, Poets justly may
Stile a new imposition on a Play.
When Shakespeare, Beamont, Fletcher rul'd the Stage,
There scarce were ten good pallats in the age,
More curious Cooks then guests; for men would eat
Most hartily of any kind of meat,
And then what strange variety each Play,
A Feast for Epicures, and that each day.
But marke how odly it is come about,
And how unluckily it now fals out:
The pallats are growne, higher number increas't,
And there wants that which should make up the Feast;
And yet y'are so unconscionable. You'd have
Forsooth of late, that which they never gave,
Banquets before; and after.—
Now pox on him that first good Prologue writ,
He left a kind of rent charge upon wit;
Which if succeding Poets faile to pay,
They forfeit all their worth, and thats their play:
Y' have Ladies humors, and y'are growne to that,
You will not like the man lesse that his boots and hat
Be right; no play, unlesse the Prologue be,
And Epilogue writ to curiositie.
Well (Gentiles)' [...]is the grievance of the place,
And pray consider't, for here's just the case;
The richnesse of the ground is gone and spent,
Mens braines grow barren, and you raise the Rent.

Francelia.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Enter as to a Duell: Samorat, Philatell, Torcular.
Samorat,
BUt my Lords,
May not this harsh businesse
Yet be left undone!
Must you hate me because I love your si­ster;
And can you hate at no lesse rate then death?
Phil.
No, at no lesse:
Thou art the blaster of our fortunes,
The envious cloud that darknest all our day,
While she thus prodigally, and fondly
Throwes away her love on thee;
[Page 4] She has not wherewithall to pay a debt
Unto the Prince.—
Sam.
Is this all?
Tor.
Faith, what if in short we doe not thinke
You worthy of her?—
Sam.
I sweare that shall not make a quarrell.
I thinke so too;
'Have urg'd it often to my selfe;
Against my selfe have sworn't as oft to her,
Pray let this satisfie.—
Phil.
Sure
(Torcular)
he thinks we come to talke
Looke you Sir;—
drawes.
And brother since his friend has fail'd him,
Doe you retire.
Tor.
Excuse me
(Philatell)
I have an equall interest in this,
And fortune shall decide it.—
Phil.
It will not need, hee's come.—
Enter Orsabrin.
Ors.
Mercury protect me! what are these?
The brothers of the high way!
Phil.
A stranger by his habit.—
Tor.
And by his looks a Gentleman.
Sir,—will you make one!
We want a fourth.—
Ors
I shall be rob'd with a tricke now!
Sam.
My Lords excuse me!
This is not civill.
In what concernes my selfe,
None but my selfe must suffer.—
Ors.
A duell by this light,—
Now has his modestie,
And t'others forwardnes warm'd me▪—
goes towards them.
Gentlemen, I weare a sword,
And commonly in readines,
If you want one, speake Sir.—
to Samorat.
[Page 5] I doe not feare much suffering.
Sam.
Y'are noble Sir,
I know not how t'invite you to it;
Yet, there is Justice on my side,
And since you please to be a witnesse
To our actions, 'tis fit you know our Story.—
Ors.
No Story Sir I beseech you,—
The cause is good enough as 'tis,
It may be spoil'd i'th telling.
Phil.
Come we trifle then.—
Sam.
It is impossible to preserve I see
My honor and respect to her.
And since you know this too my Lord,
It is not handsome in you thus to presse me,
But come.—
Torcular beckens to Orsabrin.—
Oh! I understand you Sir.—
Exeunt.
Philatell and Samoratt fight.
Phil.
In posture still.—
Oh, y'are mortall then it seemes.—
A slight wound.
Sam.
Thou hast undone thy selfe rash man,
For with this bloud thou hast let out a spirit
Will vex thee to thy grave.—
Fight agen, Samorat takes away Philatells sword, and takes breath, then gives it him.
Sam.
I'm coole agen,
Here my Lord.—
And let this Present bind your friendship.—
Phil.
Yes thus.—
Runs at him.
Sam.
Treacherous, and low.—
Enter Orsabrin.
Ors.
I have dril'd my gentleman,
I have made as many holes in him
As would sinke a Ship Royall
In sight of the Haven:—
How now?—
Samorat upon his knee.
[Page 6] S'foot yonder's another going that way too.—
Now have I forgot of which side I'm on,
No matter.
I'le help the weakest;
There's some Justice in that.
Phil.
The Villaine sure has slaine my brother.
If I have any friends above,
Guide now my hand unto his heart.—
Orsabrin puts it by, runs at him, Sa­mo steps in.
Sam.
Hold noble youth!
Destroy me not with kindnesse:
Men will say he could have kil'd me,
And that injustice should not be▪
For honours sake, leave us together.—
Ors.
'Tis not my businesse fighting—
puts up.
Th'employment's yours Sir:
If you need me,
I am within your call.
Sam.
The gods reward thee:—
Now Philatell thy worst.—
They fight agen, and close, Samo: forces his sword.
Enter Orsabrin.
Ors.
Hell and the Furies are broke loose upon us,
Shift for your selfe Sir.—
Flyes [...]nto the woods s [...]verall wayes pursued by Theeves in Devils habits.
Enter Torcular, weak with bleeding.
Tor.
It will not be,—
My body is a Jade:
I feele it tire, and languish under me.
Those thoughts came to my soule
Like Screech-owles to a sick mans window.—
Enter Theeves back agen.
Thee.
Here—here—
Tor.
Oh! I am fetcht away alive.-
Exeunt. They bend him, and carry him away.
Enter Orsabrin.
Ors.
Now the good gods preserve my senses right,
For they were never in more danger:
'Ith name of doubt, what could this be?
Sure 'twas a Conjurer I dealt withall:
[Page 7] And while I thought him busie at his praiers,
'Twas at his circle, levying this Regiment.
Heere they are agen.—
Enter Samoratt.
Sam.
Friend—Stranger—Noble youth—
Ors.
Heere—heere—
Sam.
Shift, shift the place,
The wood is dangerous,
As you love safety,
Follow me.—
Exeunt.
Enter Philatell.
Phi.
Th' have left the place,
And yet I cannot find the body any where—
May be he did not kill him then,
But he recover'd strength,
And reacht the Towne—
—It may be not too.—
Oh that this houre could be call'd backe agen.
—But 'tis too late,
And time must cure the wound that's given by fate.—
Exit.
Enter Samoratt, Orsabrin.
Ors.
I'th shape of Lions too sometimes,
And Beares?—
Sam.
Often Sir.—
Ors.
Pray unriddle.—
Sam.
The wiser sort doe thinke them Theeves,
Which but assume these formes to rob
More powerfully.—
Or.
Why does not then the State
Set out some forces and suppresse them?
Sam.
It often has (Sir) but without successe.—
Or.
How so?—
Sam.
During the time those leavies are abroad,
Not one of them appeares,
There have been
That have attempted under ground;
[Page 8] But of those as of the dead
There has been no returne.—
Or.
Strange.
Sam.
The common people thinke them a race
Of honest and familiar Devills,
For they do hurt to none,
Unlesse resisted;
They seldome take away but with exchange;
And to the poore they often give,
Returne the hurt, and sicke recover'd
Reward, or punish, as they do find cause.—
Or.
How cause?—
Sar.
Why Sir, they blind still those they take,
And make them tell the stories of their lives,
Which known, they do accordingly.—
Or.
You make me wonder! Sir,—
How long is't since they thus have troubled you?
Sam.
It was immediately upon
The great deciding day, fought
'Twixt the two pretending families,
The Samorats, and the Orsabrins.
Or.
Ha! Orsabrin?
Sam.
But Sir, that storie's sad, and tedious,
W'are entring now the Town,
A place lesse safe then were the Woods,
Since Torcular is slaine.—
Or.
How S r?—
Sam.
Yes.—
He was the Brother to the Princes Mistris,
The lov'd one too.
If wee do prize our selves at any rate,
We must embarque, and change the clime,
There is no safety here.—
Or.
Hum.—
Sam.
The little stay we make, must be
In some darke corner of the Towne:
[Page 9] From whence, the day hurried to th'other world,
Wee'le sally out to order for our journey.
That I am forc't to this, it grieves me not;
But (gentle youth) that you should for my sake.—
Or.
Sir, loose not a thought on that
A storme at Sea threw me on Land,
And now a Storme on Land drives me
To Sea agen.—
Sam.
Still noble,—
Exeunt.
Enter Nassurat, Pellagrin.
Na.
Why; suppose 'tis to a Wench,
You would not goe with me, would you?—
Pella.
To chuse,—to chuse,—
Na.
Then there's no remedy.—
Flings down his hat, unbuttons himself drawes.
Pella.
What doest meane?—
Na.
Why? since I cannot leave you alive,
I will trie to leave you dead.
Pella.
I thanke you kindly Sir, very kindly.
Now the Sedgly curse upon thee,
And the great Fiend, [...]ide through thee
Booted and Spur'd, with a Sith on his necke;
Pox on thee, I'le see thee hang'd first;
S'foot, you shall make none of your fine
Points of honour, up at my charge:
Take your course if you be so hot.
Be doing,—be doing,—
Ex.
Na.
I am got free of him at last:
There was no other way;
H'as been as troublesome as a woman that
Would be lov'd whether a man would or not:
And h'as watcht me as if he had been
My Creditors Sergeant. If they should have dispatcht
In the meane time, there would be fine
Opinions of me.— I must cut his throat
In earnest, if it should be so.—
Ex.
[Page 10] Enter Theeves, A horne sounds.
Th.
A prize—A prize—A prize—
Perid.
Some duell (Sir) was faught this morning, this
Weakned with losse of blood, we tooke, the rest
Escap't.—
Tamoren.
Hee's fitter for our Surgeon, then for us,
Hereafter wee'le examine him—
Agen a shout.
Thee.
A prize—A prize—A prize—(They set them down)
Ardelan, Piramant.
Tam.
Bring them, bring them, bring them in,
See if they have mortall Sin,
Pinch them, as you dance about,
Pinch them till the truth come out.—
Peri.
What art?
Ar.
Extreamely poore, and miserable.
Per.
'Tis well, 'tis well, proceed,
No body will take that away from thee,
Feare not,—what Country?—
Ar.
—Francelia—
Per.
Thy name?—
Ar.
Ardelan.—
Per.
And thine,—
Pira.
Piramant.—
Per.
Thy story,—come—
Ar.
What story!—
Per.
Thy life, thy life.—(Pinch him)
Ar.
Hold▪ hold,—
You shall have it;—(he sighs)
It was upon the great defeat
Given by the Samorats unto the Orsabrins,
That the old Prince for safety of the young,
Commit [...]ed him unto the trust of Garradan,
And some few servants more,
'Mongst whom I fil'd a place.—
Tam.
Ha! Garradan!
Ar.
[Page 11]
Yes.
Tam.
Speake out, and set me nearer;
So; void the place, proceed.—
Ar.
We put to Sea, but had scarce lost the sight
Of Land, ere we were made a prey
To Pirates, there Garradan
Resisting the first Boord, chang'd life with death;
With him the servants too,—
All but my selfe and Piramant.
Under these Pirats ever since
Was Orsabrin brought up,
And into severall Countries did they carry him.
Tam.
Knew Orsabrin himselfe?—
Ar.
Oh! no, his spirit was too great;
We durst not tell him any thing,
But waited for some accident
Might throw us on Francelia,
▪Bout which we hover'd often,
And we were neere it now,
But Heaven decreed it otherwise:—(he sighs)
Tam.
Why dost thou sigh?—
Ar.
Why do I sigh? (indeed,)
For teares cannot recall him;
Last night about the second watch, the
Winds broke loose,
And vext our Ships so long,
That it began to reele and totter,
And like a drunken man,
Took in so fast his liquor,
That it sunke downe i'th place.—
Tam.
How did you scape?—
Ar.
I bound my selfe unto a maste,
And did advise my Master to do so,
For which he struck me only,
And said I did consult too much with feare.—
Tam.
'Tis a sad story.—(within there)
[Page 12] Let them have Wine and
Fire,—but hearke you,—
(Whispers)
Enter Theeves.
With a Poet.
The.
A Prize.—A prize,—A prize.—
Per.
Set him downe,—
Poet.
—Sings.—
—And for the blew,—
Give him a Cup of Sacke 'twill mend his hew.—
Per.
Drunke as I live.—
(Pinch him, pinch him.
What art?—
Poet.
I am a Poet,
A poore dabler in Rime.—
Per.
Come confesse, confesse;
Poet.
I do confesse, I do want money.
Per.
By the description hee's a Poet indeed.
Well proceed.—
(Pinch him)
Poet.
What d'you meane?—
Pox on you.
Prethee let me alone,
Some Candles here,—
And fill us t'other Quart, and fill us
Rogue, Drawer, the t'other Quart,
Some small Beere.—
And for the blew,
Give him a Cup of Sack 'twill mend his hew.—
Tam.
Set him by till hee's sober,
Come lett's go see our Duellist
Drest.—
Exeunt.
Enter Taylor, two Sergeants.
Tay.
Hee's something tall, and for his Chin,
It has no bush below:
Marry a little wooll, as much as an unripe
Peach doth weare;
Just enough to speake him drawing towards a man.—
Ser.
Is he of furie?
[Page 13] Will he foine,
And give the mortall touch?
Tay.
Oh no!
He seldome weares his Sword.
Ser,
Topo is the word if he do,
Thy debt, my little Mirmidon.
Tay.
A yard and a halfe I assure you without abatement.
Ser.
'Tis well, 'tis wondrous well:
Is he retired into this house of pleasure?
Tay.
One of these hee's entred;
'Tis but a little waiting,
You shall find me at the next Taverne.—
Exit.
Ser.
Stand close, I here one comming.
Enter Orsabrin.
Or.
This house is sure no S [...]minary for Lucreces,
Then the Matron was so over diligent,
And when I ask't for meate or drinke,
Shee look't as if I had mistooke my selfe,
And cald for a wrong thing,
Well [...] 'tis but a night, and part of it I'le spend
In seeing of this Towne,
So famous in our Tales at Sea.—
Ser.
Looke▪ looke, mufled, and as melancholy after't
As a Gamester upon losse; upon him, upon him,
Or.
How now my friends,
Why do you use me thus?
Ser.
Quietly; 'twill be your best way
Or.
Best way? for what?
Ser.
Why, 'tis your best way,
Because there will be no other,
Topo is the word,
And you must along.—
Or.
Is that the word?
Why then, this is my Sword—
(Run away)
Ser.
Murder, murder, murder;
H'as kil'd the Princes Officer,
[Page 14] Murder—Murder—Murder.—
Or.
I must not stay,
I heare them swarme.—
Exit.
Enter Constable, People.
Con.
Where is he, where is he?
Ser.
Here,—here—oh a Manmender,
A Manmender,
Has broacht me in so many places,
All the Liquor in my body will run out.
Con.
In good sooth (neighbour) has tapt you at the
Wrong end too;
He has been busie with you here behind;
As one would say, lend a hand, some of you,
And the rest follow me.—
Exeunt
Enter Orsabrin.
Or.
Still pursu'd!
Which way now?
I see no passage;
I must attempt this wall,—
Oh—a luckie doore.
And open.—
Exit.
Enters agen.
Where am I now?
A garden, and a handsome house,
If't be thy will a Porch too't,
And I'm made;
'Twill be the better lodging of the two.—
(goes to the Porch)
Enter Maid.
Phemilia.
Oh! welcome, welcome Sir,
My Lady hath been in such frights for you.
Or.
Hum! for me?—
Phe.
And thought you would not come to night:
Or.
Troth, I might very well have fail'd her:
Phe.
Shee's in the Gallery alone i'th darke.
Or.
Good, very good.
Phe.
And is so melancholly,—
Or.
[Page 15]
Hum.—
Phe.
Have you shut the Garden doores?
Come I'le bring you to her, enter, enter.—
Or.
Yes, I will enter:
He who has lost himselfe makes no great venter.—
Exit.

ACT II.

Enter Sabrina, Orsabrin.
Sab.
OH welcome, welcome, as open aire to prisoners,
I have had such feares for you.
Or.
Shees warme, and soft as lovers language:
Shee spoke too, pretilie;
Now have I forgot all the danger I was in.—
Sab.
What have you done to day (my better part)
Or.
Kind little Rogue!
I could say the finest things to her mee thinks,
But then shee would discover me,
The best way will be to fall too quietly.—
(kisses her)
Sab.
How now my Samorat,
What saucy heat hath stolne into thy bloud,
And heightned thee to this?
I feare you are not well.—
Or.
S'foot! 'tis a Platonique:
Now cannot I so much as talke that way neither.
Sab.
Why are you silent, Sir?
Come I know you have been in the field to day.
Or.
How does shee know that?—
Sab.
If you have kill'd my brother, speake:
It is no new thing that true Love
Should be unfortunate:
Or.
'Twas her brother I kill'd then,
[Page 16] Would I were with my Devils agen:
I got well of them,
That will be here impossible.—
Enter Phemillia.
Phe.
Oh! Madam, Madam,
Y'are undone;
The garden walls are scal'd,
A floud of people are entring th'house.
Or.
Good—why here's varietie of ruine yet.—
Sab.
'Tis so,
The Feet of Justice
Like to those of time,
Move quick,
And will destroy I feare as sure:
Oh Sir, what will you do,
There is no ventring forrh,
My Closet is the safest,
Enter there,
While I goe down and meet their fu [...]ie
Hinder the search if possible.—
Exit.
Or.
Her Closet,
Yea where's that?
And, if I could find it,
What should I do there?
Shee will returne,—
I will venture out.—
Exit.
Enter the Prince, Philatell Phontrell, Companie, Musique.
Phi.
The lightest aires; 'twill make them
More secure,—
Upon my life hee'le visite her to night.—
Musick plaies and sings.
Prince.
Nor shee, nor any lesser light
Appeares,—
The calme and silence 'bout the place,
Perswardes me shee does sleep.
Phi.
It may be not, but hold,
[Page 17] It is enough,—let us retire
Behind this Pillar, Phontrell, is thy place,
As thou didst love thy Master shew thy care,
You to th'other Gate,
There's thy Ladder.—
Exeunt.
Enter Sabrina.
Sab.
Come forth my Samorat, come forth,
Our feares were false,
It was the Prince with Musicke,
Samorat, Samorat.,
He sleepes,— Samorat,
Or else hee's gon to find me out
I'th Gallery, Samorat, Samorat, it must be so.—
Exit.
Enter Orsabrin.
Ors.
This house is full of Thresholds,
And Trap-doores,
I have been i'th Cellar,
Where the Maids lie too,
I laid my hand groping for my way
Upon one of them,
And shee began to squeake,
Would I were at Sea agen i'th storme,
Oh! a doore:
Though the Devill were the Porter,
And kept the Gate, I'de out.—
Enter Samorat
Or.
Ha! guarded? taken in a trap?
Nay, I will out,
And there's no other
But this.—
(Retires and d [...]a [...]es, runs at him Another p [...]sse they close.
Sam.
Philatell in ambush on my life-
Enter Sabrina, and Phemillia with a light
Sab.
Where should he be?
Ha!—
Good Heavens what spectacle is this? my Samorat!
Some apparition sure,—
(They discover one another [...]y the light, throw away their weapons, and e [...]b [...]ace.
Sam.
[Page 18]
My noble friend,
What angry, and malicious Planet.
Govern'd at this point of time!—
Sab.
(My wonder does grow higher)
Or.
That which governes ever:
I seldome knew it better.
Sam.
It does amaze me Sir, to find you here.
How entred you this place?
Or.
Forc't by unruly men it'h street.
Sab.
Now the mistake is plaine.
Or.
Are you not hurt?
Sab.
No,—but you bleed?
Or.
I do indeed,
But 'tis not here,
This is a scratch,
It is within to see this beauty;
For by all circumstance, it was her brother,
Whom my unlucky Sword found out to day.
Sab.
Oh! my too cruell fancy.—
(Weepes)
Sam.
It was indeed thy Sword,
But not thy fault,
I am the cause of all these ills.
Why d'you weep Sabrina!—
Sab.
Unkind unto thy selfe, and me,
The tempest, this sad newes has rais'd within me
I would have laid with Sheares,
But thou disturb'st me,
Oh! Samorat.
Had'st thou consulted but with love as much
As honour, this had never been.
Sam.
I have no love for thee that has not had
So strict an union with honour still,
That in all things they were concern'd alike,
And if there could be a division made,
It would be found
Honour had here the leaner share:
[Page 19] 'Twas love that told me 'twas unfit
That you should love a Coward.
Sab.
These handsome words are now
As if one bound up wounds with silke,
Or with fine knots,
Which do not helpe the cure,
Or make it heale the sooner:
Oh! Samorat this accident
Lies on our love,
Like to some foule disease,
Which though it kill it not,
Yet wil't destroy the beauty;
Disfigur't so,
That't will looke ugly to th' world hereafter.—
Sam.
Must then the Acts of Fate be crimes of men?
And shall a death he pul'd upon himselfe,
Be laid on others?
Remember Sweet, how often
You have said it in the face of Heaven,
That 'twas no love,
Which length of time, or cruelty of chance,
Could lessen, or remove,
Oh kill me not that way Sabrina,
This is the nobler;
Take it, and give it entrance any where—
Kneeles and pre­sents his Sword.
But here,
For you so fill that plaee,
That you must wound your selfe.—
Or.
Am I so slight a thing?
So bankerupt?
So unanswerable in this world?
That being principally i'th debt,
Another must be cal'd upon,
And I not once look't after?
Madam why d'you throw away your Teares]
On one that's irrecoverable?
Sab.
[Page 20]
Why? therefore Sir,
Because hee's irrecoverable.
Ors.
But why on him?
He did not make him so.
Sab
I do confesse my anger is unjust,
But not my sorow Sir,
Forgive these tear [...] my Samorat,
The debts of nature must be paid,
Though from the stocke of love:
Should they not Sir?
Sam.
Yes.—
But thus the precious minutes passe,
And time, e're I have breath'd the sighs,
Due to our parting,
Will be calling for me.
Sab.
Parting?—
Sam.
Oh yes Sabrina, I must part,
As day does from the world,
Not to returne till night be gone,
Till this darke Cloud be over,
Here to be found,
Were foolishly to make a present
Of my life unto mine enemy,
Retire into thy Chamber faire,
There thou shalt know all.—
Sab.
I know too much already.—
Exeunt.
Enter Phontrell.
Hold rope for me, and then hold rope for him.
Why, this is the wisdome of the Law now,
A Prince looses a subject, and does not
Think himselfe paid for the loss [...],
Till he looses another:
Well I will do my endeavour
To make him a saver;
[...]or this was Samorat..—
Exit.
Enter Samorat, Orsabrin bleeding.
Or.
Let it bleed on,—you shall not stirre
[Page 21] I sweare.—
Sam.
Now by the friendship that I owe thee,
And the Gods beside, I will
Noble youth, were there no danger in thy wound,
Yet would the losse of bloud make thee
Unfit for travell,
My servants waite me for direction,
With them my Surgeon, I'le bring him instantly,
Pray go back.—
Exit.
Enter Philatell, Guard.
Phil.
There.—
(places them at the door [...].
You to the other Gate,
The rest follow me.—
Ex.
Enter Orsabrin, Sabrina.
Sab.
Hearke a noise Sir.
This tread's too loud to be my Samorats.
Searchers.
(Which way?—which way)—
(to them.
Some villany in hand,
Step in here Sir, quick, quick.—
Locks him into her Closet.
Enter Philatell, Guard, and passe ore the Stage.
Phi
Looke every where.—
(Philatell dragging out his Sister.
Protect thy brothers murderer?
Tell me where thou hast hid him,
Or by my fathers ashes I will search
In every veine thou hast about thee, for him.—
(O [...]sab [...]in [...]ounces thri [...]e [...]t the doore, it [...]l [...]s op [...].
Enter Orsabrin.
Or.
Ere such a villany should be
The Gods would lend unto a single arme
Such strength, it should have power to punish
An Armie, such as thou art.—
Phi.
Oh! are you here Sir?—
Or.
Yes I am here Sir.—
(sight)
Phil.
Kill her.—
(Shee interpos'd
Or.
Oh! save thy selfe faire excellence,
And leave me to my Fate.—
[Page 22] Base▪—
Comes behind him, [...]t [...]hes bold of his Armes.
Phi.
So bring him one,
The other is not far,—
Exeunt.
Enter Sabrina, Phemilia.
Sab Run, run, Phemillia
To the Garden walls,
And meet my Samorat,
Tell him, oh tell him any thing,
Charge him by all our loves
He instantly take Horse,
And put to Sea,
There is more safety in a storme,
Then where my brother is.—
Exeunt.

ACT III.

Enter Theeves.
Thee.
A Prize—A prize, A prize,
Per.
Bring him forth, bring him forth;
(They dance about him and sing.
Welcome w [...]come, mortall wight,
To the [...]ansion of the night:
Good or bad, thy life discover
Truly all thy deeds declare;
For about thee Spirits hover
That can tell, tell what they are.
—Pinch him, if he speake not true,
—Pinch him, pinch him black and blew,
Per.
What art thou?
Stra
I was a man.
Per.
Of whence?—
Str.
[...]he Court.—
Per.
Whether now bound?
Str,
To my owne house.
Per.
[Page 23]
Thy name?
Stra.
Stramador.
Per.
Oh you fill a place about his Grace,
And keep out men of parts, d'you not?
Str.
Yes.—
Per.
A foolish Utensill of State,
Which like old Plate upon a Gaudy day,
'Sbrought forth to make a show, and that is all;
For of no use y'are, y'had best deny this:
Str.
Oh no!—
Per.
Or that you do want wit,
And then talke loud to make that passe for it?
You thinke there is no wisedom but in forme;
Nor any knowledge like to that of whispers:—
Str.
Right, right.
Per.
Then you can hate, and fawn upon a man
At the same time,
And dare not urge the vices of another,
You are so foule your selfe;
So the Prince seldome heares truth.
Str.
Oh! very seldome.
Per.
And did you never give his Grace odde Councels.
And when you saw they did not prosper,
Perswade him take them on himselfe.—
Str.
Yes, yes, often.—
Per.
Get baths of Sulphur quick,
And flaming oyles,
This crime is new, and will deserve it.
He has inverted all the rule of State;
Confoun [...]ed policie,
There is some rea [...]on why a Subject
should suffer for the e [...]rours of his Prince;
But why a Prince should [...]ear [...]
The faults of's Ministers, none, none at
All.—Cauldrons of Brimstone there.
Thee.
Great Judge of this infe [...]nall p [...]ace
Allow him yet the mercy of the Cou [...]t.
Str.
[Page 24]
Kind Devill.—
Per.
Let him be boyl'd in scalding lead a while
T'enure, and to prepare him for the other.
Str.
Oh! heare me, heare me,
Per.
Stay!
Now I have better thought upon't,
He shall to earth agen:
For villanie is catching, and will spread:
He will enlarge our Empire much,
Then w'are sure of him at any time,
So 'tis enough—where's our Governour?—
Exeunt.
Enter Goalor, Samorat, Nassurat, Pellegrin, three others in disguise
Iai.
His haire curles naturally,
A handsome youth.—
Sam.
The same,—
(Drinkes to him.
Is there no speaking with him?
He owes me a trifling summe.—
Iay.
Sure Sir the debt is something desperate,
There is no hopes he will be brought
To cleare with the world,
He struck me but for perswading him
To make even with Heaven,
He is as surly as an old Lion,
And as sullen as a Bullfinch,
He never eate since he was taken.—
Gentlemen
Sam.
I must needs speake with him,
Heark in the eare.—
Iai.
Not for all the world.
Sam.
Nay I do but motion such a thing,
Iai.
Is this the businesse Gentlemen?
Fare you well.—
Sam.
There is no choice of waies then.—
(Run after him, draw their dag [...]ers, set [...]t t [...] his B [...]est.
Stir not, if thou but think'st a noise,
Or breath'st aloud, thou breath' [...]t thy last.
So bind him now.—
[Page 25] Undoe,
Quickly, quickly,
His Jerkin, his Hat.
Na.
What will you do?
None of these Beards will serve,
There's not an eye of white in them.
Pell.
Pull out the Silver'd ones in his
And sticke them in the other.
Na.
Cut them, cut them out,
The bush will sute well enough
With a grace still.
Sam.
Desperate wounds must have desperate
Cures, extreames must thus be serv'd,—
You know your parts,
Feare not, let us alone.—
Sings a Catch.
Some drinke,—what Boy,—some drinke—
Fill it up, fill it up to the brinke,
When the Pots crie clinke,
And the Pockets chinke,
Then 'tis a merry world.
To the best, to the best, have at her,
And a Pox take the Woman-hater.—
The Prince of darknesse is a Gentleman,
Mahu, Mohu is his name,
How d'you Sir?
You gape as you were sleepy,
Good faith he lookes like an—
O yes.
Pell
Or as if he had overstrain'd himselfe
At a deep note in a Ballad.—
Na.
What think you of an Oyster at a low ebb?
Some liquor for him;
You will not be a Pimpe for life you Rogue,
Nor hold a doore to save a Gentleman,
You are—Pox on him, what is he Pellagrin?
If you love me, let's stifle him,
And say 'twas a sudden judgement upon him
[Page 26] For swearing; the posture will confirme it.
Pell.
We're in excellent humour,
Let's have another bottle,
And give out that Anne my wife is dead,
Shall I Gentlemen?—
Na.
Rare Rogue in Buckram,
Let me bite thee,
Before me thou shalt go out wit,
And upon as good termes,
As some of those in the Ballad too.—
Pell.
Shall I so?—Why then foutree for the Guise,
Saines shall accrew, and ours shall be,
The black ey'd beauties of the time,
I'le ticke you for old ends of Plaies:—
They sing,—
A Round,—A Round,—A Round,—
A Round,—A Round,—A Round—
(Knock)
Some bodie's at doore.
Preethee, preethee, Sirra, Sirra,
Trie thy skill.
Na.
Who's there.
Messen.
One Sturgelot a Jaylor here?—
Na.
Such a on there was my friend,
But hee's gone above an houre ago:
Now did this Rogue whisper in his heart
That's a lie,—and for that very reason,
I'le cut his throat.—
Pell.
No prethee now,—for thinking?
Thou shalt not take the paines,
The Law shall do't—
Na.
How,—how?—
Pell.
Marry wee'le write it over when wee're gone,
He joyn'd in the plot, and put himselfe
Into this posture, meerely to disguise it to
The world.—
Na.
Excellent,
Here's to thee for that conceit,
[Page 27] Wee should have made rare Statesmen,
We are so witty in our mischiefe.
Another song, and so let's go,
It will be time.
—Sing.—
A health to the Nut browne Lasse,
With the hazell eyes let it passe.
Shee that has good eyes
Has good thighs,
Let it passe,—let it passe.—
A much to the lively Grey,
'Tis as good it'h night as the day,
Shee that has good eyes,
Has good thighs,
Drinke away,—drinke away.—
I pledge, I pledge, what ho some Wine,
Here's to thine, and to thine,
The colours are Divine.—
But oh the blacke, the black
Give me as much agen, and let't be Sacke:
Shee that has good Eyes,
Has good Thighs,
And it may be a better knack.—
Na.
A reckoning Boy.—
(They knock)
There.—
(paies him)
Dost heare
Here's a friend of ours 'has forgotten himselfe
A little (as they call it)
The Wine has got into his head,
As the frost into a hand, he is benum'd,
And has no use of himselfe for the present.
Boy.
Hum Sir.—
(s [...]l [...]s.)
Na.
Prethee lock the dore, and when he
[Page 28] Comes t' himselfe,
Tell him he shall find us at the old place,
He knowes where.
Boy.
I will Sir.—
Exeunt.
Enter Orsabrin.
Or.
To di [...]! yea what's that?
For yet I never thought on't seriously;
It may be 'tis.—hum.—
It may be 'tis not too.—
Enter Samorat, as Goaler undoes his Fetters.
Ha.—(as amaz'd.)
What happy intercession wrought this change?
To whose kind prayers owe I this my friend?
Sam.
Unto thy vertue—Noble youth
The Gods delight in that as well as praiers.
I am—
Or.
Nay, nay,—
Be what thou wilt,
I will not question't:
Undoe, undoe.
Sam.
Thy friend Samorat.
Or.
Ha?
Sam.
Lay by thy wonder,
And put on these cloathes,
In this disguise thou'lt passe unto the
Prison-gates, there you shall finde
One that is taught to know you;
He will conduct you to the corner
Of the wood, and there my horses waite
Us.—
I'le throw this Goaler off in some odde place,
Or.
My better Angell.—
Exennt.
Enter Theeves.
Per.
It is 'een as hard a world for Theeves
As honest men,—nothing to be got—
No prize stirring.—
1. Thee.
[Page 29]
None, but one with horses,
Who seem'd to stay for some
That were to come,
And that has made us waite thus long.
Per.
A leane dayes worke, but what remedie?
Lawyers, that rob men with their owne consent,
Have had the same:
Come, call in our Perdues,
We will away.—
(they whistle.)
Enter Orsabrin, as seeking the horses.
Or.
I heare them now,
Yonder they are.—
Per.
Hallow, who are these?
Any of ours?
Thee.
No, stand close,
They shall be presently,
Yeeld—yeeld.—
Or.
Agen betraid? there is no end of my misfortune,
Mischiefe vexes me
Like a quotidian,
It intermits a little, and returnes
E're I have lost the memory of
My former fit.—
Per.
Sentences, sentences,
A way with him—A way with him.—
Exeunt.
Enter Goaler, Drawers, over the Stage.
Jailer.
I am the Goaler, undone, undone,
Conspiracie, a cheat, my prisoner, my prisoner.—
Exeunt.
Enter Samorat.
Sam.
No men?—nor horses?—
Some strange mistake,—
May it be, th' are sheltred in the wood.—
Enter Peridor and other Theeves, exami­ning the young Lord Torcular that was hurt.
Perid.
And if a Lady did but step aside,
[Page 30] To fetch a Masque or so,
You follow'd after still,
As if shee had gone proud?
Ha; is't not so?—
Tor.
Yes.—
Per.
And if you were us'd but civillie in a place,
You gave out doubtfull words upon't,
To make men thinke you did enjoy.
Tor.
Oh! yes, yes.
Per.
Made love to every peece of cried-up beauty▪
And swore the same things over to them.
Tor.
The very same.—
Per.
Abominable.
Had he but sworne new things, yet't had been
Tollerable.—
Reades the summe of the Confession▪
Th.
Let me see▪—let me see.
Hum.
Court Ladies Eight,
Of which two great ones.—
Country Ladies twelve.
Tearmers all.—
Per.
Is this right?
Tor.
Very right.
Per.
Citizens wives of severall trades,
He cannot count them.—
Chamber maides, and Country wenches,
About thirty:—
Of which the greater part,
The night before th'were married,
Or else upon the day:
Per.
A modest reckoning, is this all?—
Tor.
No.—
I will be just t'a scruple.
Per.
Well said,—well said,—
Out with it.—
Tor.
Put down two old Ladies more.
Per.
[Page 31]
I'th name of wonder,
How could he thinke of old,
In such variety of young?
Tor.
Alas I could never be quiet for them.
Per.
Poore Gentleman.
Well what's to be done with him now?
Shall he be thrown into the Cauldron
With the Cuckolds,
Or with the Jealous?
That's the hotter place.
Per.
Thou mistake [...]'t,
'Tis the same, they go together still:
Jealous and Cuckolds differ no otherwise
Then Sheriffe and Alderman;
A little time makes th'one th'other.
What thinke you of Gelding him,
And sending him to earth agen,
Amongst his women?
'Twood be like throwing a dead fly
Into an Ants nest.
There would be such tearing, pulling,
And getting up upon him,
They would worry the poore thing
To death,—
Th. 1.
Excellent,
Or leave a string as they do sometimes
In young Colts:
Desire and impotence,
Would be a rare punishment.
Fie, fie, the common disease of age,
A very old man has it.
Enter The.
A prize,—A prize,—A prize,
(Hornes blow, Brasse Plots, &c.
Ors.
This must be Hell by the noise
Ta.
Set him down, set him down;
Bring forth the newest wrack,
And flaming pinching Irons,
[Page 32] This is a stubborne peece of flesh,
'Twould have broke loose.
Or.
So, this comes of wishing my selfe
With Divels agen.—
Per.
What art?—
Or.
The slave of Chaunce,
One of Fortunes fooles;
A thing shee kept alive on earth
To make her sport,
Per.
Thy name?
Or.
Orsabrin.
Per.
Ha! he that liv'd with Pirats?
Was lately in a storme?
Or.
The very same.—
Ta.
Such respect as you have paid to me,—
(whispers)
Prepare to Revels, all that can be thought on:
But let each man still keep his shape.—
(Exit.)
They unbind him, all bow to him,
(Musicke)
Or.
Ha!
Another false smile of Fortune?—
(They bring out severall suite of cloathes, and a banquets
Is this the place the gowned Clearkes
Do fright men so on earth with?
Would I had been here before.
Master Devill;
To whose use are these set out?
Ta.
To yours Sir.
Or.
I'le make bold to change a little—
(takes a hat.
Could you not affoord a good plaine Sword
(dresses himself.
To all this gallantry?—
Per.
Wee'le see Sir.
Or.
A thousand times civiller then men,
And better natur'd.
Enter Tamoren, Reginella.
Tam.
All leave the roome.
I like not this.—
Ex.
Tam.
Cupid do thou the rest,
[Page 33] A blunter arrow, and but slackly drawne,
Would perfect what's begun,
When young and handsome meet,
—The work's halfe done.—
Or.
She cannot be lesse then a goddesse;
And 't must be Proserpine:
I'le speake to her, though Pluto's selfe stood by,
Thou beauteous Queene of this darke world,
That mak'st a place so like a hell,
So like a Heaven, instruct me
In what forme I must approach thee,
And how adore thee?—
Re.
Tell me what thou art first:
For such a creature
Mine eyes did never yet behold.—
Or.
I am that which they name above a man:
I'th watry Elements I much have liv'd,
And there they terme me Orsabrin.
Have you a name too?—
Re.
Why doe you aske?
Or.
Because I'de call upon it in a storme,
And save a Ship from perishing sometimes.
Re.
'Tis Reginella.
Or.
Are you a woman too?
I never was in earnest untill now.
Re.
I know not what I am,
For like my selfe I never yet saw any.
Or.
Nor ever shall.
Oh! how came you hither?
Sure you were betraied.
Will you leave this place,
And live with such as I am?
Re.
Why may not you live here with me?
Or.
Yes.—
But I'de carry thee where there is a glorious light,
Where all above is spread a Canopie,
Studded with twinckling Gems,
[Page 34] Beauteous as Lovers eies;
And underneath Carpets of [...]lowry Meads
To tread on.—
A thousand thousand pleasures
Which this place can ne're affoord thee.—
Re.
Indeed!
Or.
Yes indeed—
I'le bring thee unto shady walkes,
And Groves fring'd with Silver purling streams,
Where thou shalt heare soft feathered Queristers
Sing sweetly to thee of their own accord.
I'le fill thy lap with early flowers;
And whilst thou bind'st them up mysterious waies,
I'le tell thee pretty tales, and sigh by thee:
Thus presse thy hand and warme it thus with kisses▪
Re.
Will you indeed?—
Enter King Per. above with others.
Ta.
Fond Girle:
Her rashnesse sullies the glory of her beauty,
'Twil make the conquest cheape,
And weaken my designes,
Go part them instantly.
And bind him as before;
Be you his keeper Peridore.
Per.
Yes, I will keep him.
Or.
Her eyes like lightning shoot into my heart
They'le melt it into nothing,
Eere I can present it to her,
Sweet Excellence.—
Enter Theeves.
Ha! why is this hatefull curtaine drawne before my eyes?
If I have sinn'd, give me some other punishment;
Let me but looke on her still,
And double it, oh▪ whether, whether doe you hurry me?
Per.
Madam▪ you must in.—
(carry him away.
R.
Ay me, what's this?—
Must!—
[...]x.
[Page] Enter other Devils.
Th. 1.
We have had such sport;
Yonder's the rarest Poet without,
Has made all his confession in blanke verse:
Not left a God, nor a Goddesse in Heaven,
But fetch't t [...]em all downe for witnesses;
Has made such a description of Stix,
And the Ferry,
And verily thinks has past them.
Enquires for the blest shades,
And askes much after certaine Brittish blades,
One Shakespeare and Fletcher:
And grew so peremptory at last,
He would be carried where they were.
Th. 2.
And what did you with him?
Th. 1.
Mounting him upon a Cowle-staffe,
Which (tossing him something high)
He apprehended to be P [...]gasus.
So we have left him to tell strange lies,
Which hee'le turne into verse;
And some wise people hereafter into Religion.

ACT IV.

Enter Samorat, Nashorat, Pellegri [...].
Na.
GGod faith 'tis wondrous well,
We have ee'n done like eager disputers;
And with much adoe
Are got to be just where we were.
This is the corner of the wood.
Sa.
Ha! 'tis indeed.—
P [...]ll.
Had we no walking [...]ire,
Nor sawcer▪ey'd Devill of these woods that led us?
No [...] am I as weary
[Page 36] As a married man after the first weeke.
And have no more desire to move forwards,
Then a Post-horse that has past his Stage.
Na.
'Sfoot yonder's the night too, stealing away
With her blacke gowne about her:
Like a kind wench, that had staid out the
Last minute with a man.
Pel.
What shall we doe, Gentlemen?
I apprehend falling into this Jaylors
Hands strangely; hee'd use us worse
Then we did him.
Na.
And that was ill enough of Conscience:
What thinke you of turning Beggars?
Many good Gentlemen have don't: or Theeves?
Pel.
That's the same thing at Court:
Begging is but a kind of robbing th' Exchequer.
Na.
Looke foure fathome and a halfe OOS—
In contemplation of his Mistres:
There's a Feast, you and I are out now Pellegrin;
'Tis a pretty tricke, this enjoyning in absence.
What a rare invention 'twood be,
If a man could find out a way to make it reall.
Pel.
Dost thinke there's nothing in't as tis?
Na.
Nothing, nothing.
Did'st never heare of a dead Alexander,
Rais'd to talke with a man?
Love's a learned Conjurer,
And with the glasse of Fancie will doe as strange things?
You thrust out a hand,
Your Mistresse thrusts out another:
You shake that hand that shakes you agen:
You put out a lip; she puts out hers:
Talke to her, she shall answer you;
Marrie, when you come to graspe all this,
It is but ayer.
(As out of his Study.
Sam.
It was unluckie,—
Gentlemen, the day appeares,
[Page 37] This is no place to stay in;
Let's to some neighbouring Cottage,
May be the Searchers will neglect
The neerer places,
And this will but advance unto our safety.
Enter Fidlers.
Na.
Who are there?
Fid. 1.
Now if the spirit of melancholy should possesse them▪
F. 2.
Why if it should,
An honourable retreate.
N.
I have the rarest fancie in my head,—
Whether are you bound my friends so early?
Fid.
To a Wedding Sir.
N.
A Wedding?
I told you so.
Whose?
Fid.
A Country wenches here hard by,
One Erblins daughter.
N.
Good: Erbl [...]n: the very place.
To see how things fall out.
Hold, here's money for you.
Harke you, you must assist me in a small designe.
Fid.
Any thing.
Sam.
What do'st meane?
N.
Let me alone,
I have a plot upon a wench.—
Fid.
Your Worship is merry.
Na.
Yes faith, to see her only.
Looke you, some of you shall go back to 'th' Towne,
And leave us your Coats,
My friend and I am excellent at a little Instrument,
And then wee'l sing catches.
P.
I understand thee not;
Thou hast no more forecast then a Squirrell▪
And hast lesse wise consideration about thee.
Is there a way safer then this!
Dost thinke what we have done
[Page 38] Will not be spread beyond this place with ev'ry light.
Should we now enter any house
Thus near the Towne, and stay all day,
Twould be suspitious: What pretence have we?
P.
He speaks reason Samorat.
Sa.
I doe not like it.
Should any thing fall out 'twould not looke well,
I'de not be found so much out of my selfe,
So far from home as this disguise would make me,
Almost for certainty of safety.
N.
Certainty? Why, this will give it us,
Pray let me governe once.
Sa.
Well, you suffered first with me,
Now 'tis my turne.
P.
Prethee name not suffering,
N.
Come, come, your Coats,
Our Beards will suite rarely to them:
There's more money,
Not a word of any thing as you tender—
Fid.
O Sir.
N.
And see you carry't gravely too.—
Now afore me Pellagrins rarely translated.
'Sfoot they'l apprehend the head of the Base Violl
As soone as thee;
Thou art so likely,
Only I must confesse, that has a little the better face,
P.
Has it so?—
Pox on thee, thou look'st like I cannot tell what.
N.
Why, so I would foole,
Th' end of my disguise is to have none
Know what I am:
Looke, looke, a Devill ayring himself.
(Enter a Divell.
I'le catch him like a Mole ere he can get under ground.
P.
Nashorat, Nashorat.—
N.
Pox on that noise, hee's earth't.
Prethee let's watch him and see
Whether hee'le heave agen.
P.
[Page 39]
Ar't madde?—
N.
By this light, three or foure of their skins
And wee'd rob [...]e.
'I would be the better way.—
Come, come, let's go—
Exeunt.
Enter Captain and Souldiers.
Cap.
Let the Horse s [...]t about this place,
Wee▪le make a search within—
Ex.
Enter agen.
Now disperse
I'th hollow of the wood,
Wee'le meet agen.
Enter Na. Pe. Sa. Fid.
Sol.
Who goes there?
Speake,—Oh! th'are Fidlers.—
Sawe you no Men nor Horse
I'th wood to day,—as you came along.
(Nashorat puls one of the Fidlers by the skirt)
Na.
Speake, speake Rogue.
Fid.
None Sir,—
Sol.
Passe on.—
Ex.
N.
Gentlemen what say you to th'invention now,
I'm a Rogue if I do not think
I was design'd for the Helme of State,
I am so full of nimble Stratagems:
That I should have ordered affaires, and
Carried it against the streame of a Faction,
With as much ease as a Skippar,
Would laver against the wind.—
Ex.
Enter Captaine and Soldiers meet agen.
Cap.
What, no newes of any?
Sol.
No,—not a man stirring.
Enter other Souldiers.
Sa how, away,—away.—
Cap.
What, any discovery?
1. Sol.
Yes, the Horse has staid three fellowes,
Fidlers they call themselves;
[Page 40] There's something in't; they looke suspitiously;
One of them has offer'd at confession once or twice,
Like a weake stomacke at vomiting,
But 'twould not out.—
Ca.
A little cold Iron thrust downe his throat
Will fetch it up.—
I am excellent at discoverie,
And can draw a secret out of a Knave,
With as much dexterity as a Barber-Surgeon
Woo'd a hollow tooth.
Let's joyne forces with them.—
Exeunt.
Enter Orsabrin.
Or.
Sure 'tis eternall night with me;
Would this were all too—
For I begin to thinke the rest is true,
Which I have read in books,
And that there's more to follow.—
Enter Reginella.
Re.
Sure this is he.—
(She unbinds him.
Or.
The pure and first created Light
Broke through the Chaos thus.—
Keep off, keep off thou brighter Excellence,
Thou faire Divinity: If thou com'st neere,
(So tempting is the shape thou now assum'st)
I shall grow sawcy in desire agen,
And entertaine bold hopes which will but draw
More, and fresh punishment upon me.—
Re.
I see y' are angry Sir:
But if you kill me too, I meant no ill:
That which brought me hither,
Was a desire I have to be with you,
Rather then those I live with: This is all
Beleeve't.—
Or.
With me? Oh thou kind Innocence!
Witnesse all that can punish falshood,
That I could live with thee,
Even in this darke and narrow prison:
[Page 41] And thinke all happinesse confin'd within the wals—
Oh, hadst thou but as much of Love as I.
Re.
Of Love? What's that?
Or.
Why 'tis a thing that's had before 'tis knowne:
A gentle flame that steales into a heart,
And makes it like one object [...]o, that it scarce cares
For any other delights, when that is present:
And is in paine when 't's gone▪ thinks of that alone,
And quarrels with all other thoughts that would
Intrude and so divert it.—
Re.
If this be Love, sure I have some of it,
It is no ill thing, is it Sir?
Or.
Oh most Divine,
The best of all the gods strangely abound in't,
And Mortals could not live without it:
It is the soule of vertue, and the life of life.
Re.
Sure I should learne it Sir, if you would teach it.
Or.
Alas, thou taught'st it me;
It came with looking thus.—
(They gaze upon one another.
Enter Per.
Per.
I will no longer be conceal'd,
But tell her what I am,
Before this smooth fac'd youth
Hath taken all the roome
Up in her heart,
Ha! unbound! and sure by her!
Hell and Furies.
P.
What ho—within there—
Enter other Theeves.
Practise escapes?
Get me new yrons to load him unto death.
Or.
I am so us'd to this,
It takes away the sense of it:
I cannot thinke it strange.
Re.
Alas, he never did intend to goe.
Use him for my sake kindly:
I was not wont to be deny'd.
Ah me! they are hard hearted all.
[Page 42] What shall I doe? I'le to my Governour,
Hee'l not be thus cruell.—
Exeunt.
Enter Samorat, Nashorat, Pelegrin.
Nas.
'Tis a rare wench, she 'ith blew stockings:
What a complexion she had when she was warme—
'Tis a hard question of these Country wenches,
Which are simpler, their beauties or themselves.
There's as much difference betwixt
A Towne-Lady, and one of these,
As there is betwixt a wilde Pheasant and a tame.
Pell.
Right:—
There goes such essensing, washing, perfuming,
Da [...]bing, to th' other that they are the least part▪
Of themselves.
Indeed the [...]e's so much sauce, a man cannot taste the meat.
N.
Let me kisse thee for that;
By this light I hate a woman drest up to her height,
Worse then I doe Sugar with Muskadine:
It leaves no roome for me to imagine:
I could improve her if she were mine:
It looks like a Jade with his [...]ayle tyed up with ribbons,
Going to a [...]ayre to be [...]old.
Pell.
No, no, thou hatest it out of another reason, Nashorat.
Nas.
Prethee, what's that?
Pell.
Why th'are so sine, th'are of no use that day.
Na.
Pellegrin is in good feeling.
Sirra, did'st marke the Lasse 'ith green upon yellow,
How she bridled in her head,
And danc't a stroake in, and a stroake out,
Like a young Fillet training to a pace.
Pel.
And how she kist,
As if she had been sealing and delivering her self up
To the use of him that came last,
Parted with her sweet-hearts lips still
As unwillingly, and unto wardly,
As [...]oft Wax from a dry Seale.
N.
True; and when she kisses a Gentleman,
[Page 43] She makes a Curtsey, as who should say,
The favour was on his side.
What dull fooles are we to besiege a face
Three moneths for that trifle.
Sometimes it holds out longer,—
And then this is the sweeter flesh too,—
Enter Fidlers.
Fid.
You shall have horses ready at the time,
And good ones too (if there be truth in drinke)
And for your letters, they are there by this.—
Sa.
An excellent Officer.—
Enter Wedding.
Clowne.
Tut, tut, tut,
That's a good one y'faith, not dance?
Come, come, strike up.
(Enter souldiers mufled up in their cloaks.
Sa.
Who are those that eye us so severely?
Belong they to the wedding?
Fid.
I know 'em not.
Clo.
Gentlemen, wil't please you dance.—
(Offer their women.
Sol.
No, keep your women, wee'l take out others here.
Samorat, if I mistake not.
Sa.
Ha! betraid?—
(A bussle.
Clo.
How now! what's the matter? abuse our Fidlers?
2 Sol.
These are no Fidlers, fools▪ obey the Princes officers,
Unlesse you desire to goe to prison too.
Sa.
The thought of what must follow disquiets not at all:
But tamely thus to be surpriz'd
In so unhandsome a disguise?—
(They carry him away▪
Pel.
I'st ee'n so? Why then,
Farewell the plumed Troops, and the big Wars,
Which made ambition vertue.—
Nas.
I, I, Let them goe, let them goe.
Pel.
Have you ever a stratagem Nasharot?
'Twood be very seasonable. What thinke you now?
Are you design'd for the helme of State?
Can you laver against this Tempest?
Na.
Prethee let me alone, I am thinking for life.
Pe.
[Page 44]
Yes, 'tis for life indeed, would 'twere not.
Cl.
This is very strange; Let's follow after,
And see if we can understand it.—
Exeunt.
Enter Peridor, Orsabrin.
Per.
A meere Phantasme
Rais'd by Art to trie thee.
Or.
Good kind Devill,
Trie me once more.
Help me to the sight of this Phantasme agen.
Per.
Thou art undone,
Wer't thou not amorous
In th' other world?
Did'st not love women?
Or.
Who did hate them?
Per.
Why there's it;
Thou thought'st there was no danger in the sinne,
Because 'twas common.
Above the halfe of that vast multitude
Which fils this place, Women sent hither:
And they are highliest punisht still,
That love the handsomest.
Or.
A very lying Devill this
Certainly.—
P.
All that had their women with you,
Suffer with us.
Or.
By your friendships favour though,
There's no justice in that:
Some of them suffered enough
In all conscience by 'em there.—
P.
Oh, this is now your mirth:
But when you shall be pinch't
Into a gellie,
Or made into a crampe all over,
These will be sad truths.
Or.
He talkes odly now, I doe not like it.
Do'st heare?—
Prethee exchange some of thy good counsell
[Page 45] For deeds.
If thou bee'st an honest Devill,
(As thou seem'st to be)
Put a sword into my hand,
And help me to the sight of this
Apparition agen.—
P.
Well, some thing I'le doe for thee,
Or rather for my selfe.—
Exeunt.
Enter two other Devils.
1. D.
Come, let's goe relieve our Poet.
2. D.
How, relieve him? hee's releas't; is he not?
1. D.
No, no;
Bersat bethought himselfe at the mouth of the Cave,
And found he would be necessary to our Masque too night.
We have set him with his feet in a great tub of water,
In which he dabbles and beleeves it to be Helicon:
There hee's contriving i'th honour of Mercury,
Who I have told him comes this night of a message
From Jupiter to Pluto, and is feasted here by him.
Th.
Oh, they have fetcht him off.
Enter Poet and Theeves.
Po.
Carer per so lo carer,
Or he that made the fairie Queene.
1 Th.
No, none of these:
They are by themselves in some other place;
But here's he that writ Tamerlane.
P.
I beseech you bring me to him,
There's something in his Scene
Betwixt the Empresses a little high and clowdie,
I would resolve my selfe.
1 Th.
You shall Sir.
Let me see—the Author of the bold Beauchams,
And Englands Joy.
Po.
The last was a well writ peice, I assure you,
A Brittane I take it; and Shakespeares very way:
I desire to see the man,
1 Th.
Excuse me, no seeing here.
[Page 46] The gods in complement to Homer,
Doe make all Poets poore above,
And we all blind below.
But you shall con [...]esse Sir.
Follow.—
Ex.
Enter Peridor, Orsabrin.
Or.
Hallight and fresh aire agen?
(Peridor unbinds him and slips away.
The place I know too.—
The very same I fought the Duell in.
The Devill was in the right;
This was a meere Aparition:
But 'twas a handsome one, it left impressions here,
Such as the fairest substance I shall ere behold,
Will scarse deface.
Well I must resolve, but what, or where?
I, that's the question.
The Towne's unsafe, there's no returning thither,
And then the Port.—
(Enter some to passe over.
Ha! What means the busie haste of these.—
Honest friend.—No—
(Passes hastily.
Do'st heare,—
(To another.
What's the matter pray?
Clo.
Gentlemen, gentlemen,
That's good satisfaction indeed.
Ors.
Prethee good fellow tell me.
(Enter another.
What causes all this hurry?—
(To another.
Clo.
One Samorat is led to prison Sir,
And other Gentlemen about Lord Torcular.
Ha! Samorat!
There is no meane nor end of fortunes malice:
Oh [...] 'tis insufferable;
I'm made a boy whipt on anothers backe:
Cruell, I'le not endure't by heaven,
He shall not dye for me:
I will not hold a wretched life upon such wretched termes.
(Ex.
Enter Tamoren Peridor, and others.
Tam.
Flie; flie abroad, search every place, and
[Page 47] Bring him back:
Thou hast undone us all with thy neglect,
Destroi'd the hopes we had to be our selves agen;
I shall run mad with Anger;
Fly, be gone.—
Exeunt all but Tam.
Enter Reginella.
My Reginella, what brings you abroad?
Re.
Deare Governour? I have a sute to you.
Ta.
To me my pretty sweetnesse, what?
Re.
You will deny me Sir I feare,
Pray let me have the stranger that came last in keeping.
Ta.
Stranger? Alas hee's gone, made an escape▪
Re.
I fear'd he would not stay they us'd him so unkindly.
Indeed I would have us'd him better,
(weeps.
And then he had been here still.
Tam.
Come▪ doe not weep my girle:
Forget him pretty pensivenesse, there will
Come others every day as good as he.
Re.
Oh! never: I'le close my ey's to all now hee's gone.
Tam.
How catching are the sparkes of love? Still this
Mischance showes more and more unfortunate.
I was too curious.—
Come indeed, you must forget him,
The gallant'st and the godli'st to the eye are not the best,
Such handsome and fine shapes as those
Are ever fal [...]e and foule within.
Re.
Why Governour d▪you then put
Your finest things still in your finest Cabinets?
Tam.
Pretty Innocence: no, I doe not;
You see I place not you there,
Come no more teares:
Lets in and have a Mate at Chesse,
"Diversion cures a losse, or makes it selfe.—
Extunt.

ACT V.

Enter Tamaren, Peridor, and others.
Pe.
CRost all the High-wayes, searcht the Woods,
Beat up and down with as much pain & diligence,
As ever Huntsman did for a lost Deere.
Ta.
A race of Criples, are y' all
Issue of Snayles, he could not else have scap't us.
Now? what newes bring you?
Th.
Sir, we have found him out,
The party is in prison.
Ta.
How? in prison?
Th.
For certaine Sir.
It seemes young Samorat and he
Were those that fought the duell t'other day,
And left our Torcular so wounded there.
For his supposed death was Samorat taken,
Which when this youth had found,
He did attempt to free him (scaling the wall
By night) but finding it impossible,
Next Morning did present himselfe
Into the hands of Justice, imagining
His death that did the fact, an equall sacrifice.
Ta.
Brave Orsabrin.
Th.
Not knowing that the greedy Law ask's more,
And doth prescribe the accessarie
As well as principall.
Ta.
Just so 'ith nicke? 'ith very nicke of time?
Per.
Hee's troubled.
Ta.
It will be excellent.
Be all in souldiers straight,
Where's Torcular?
Th.
Forth comming Sir.
Ta.
How are his wounds?
Will they endure the Aire?
Under your gaberdines weare Pistols all.]
Per.
[Page 49]
What does he meane?
Ta.
Give me my other habit and my sword
'Ith' least suspected way hast after me.
Th.
All?
Tam.
All but Peridor; I will abroad,
My broken hopes and suff'rings
Shall have now some cure.
Fortune spite of her selfe shall be my friend,
And either shall redresse, or give them end.—
Ex.
P.
I've found it out,
He doe's intend to fetch this stranger backe,
And give him Reginella,
Or else—No, no, it must be that
His anger, and the search declare it;
The secret of the prison-house shall out I sweare.
I'le set all first on fire,
For middle waies to such an end are dull.—
Ex.
Enter Prince, Phi.
S.
Since she was refus'd to speake with you Sir,
Nor looke of any,
Languishes so fast,
Her servants feare she will not live
To know what does become of him.
Phi.
Sir 'tis high time you visit her.
Pri.
I cannot looke upon her, and deny her.
Phi.
Nor need you Sir,
All shall appeare to her most gracious:
Tell her the former part o'th' Law
Must passe, but when it comes t'execute,
Promise her that you intend to interpose.
Pr.
And shall then Samorat live?
Ph.
Oh!—
Nothing lesse! The censure past,
His death shall follow without noise:
▪Tis but not owning of the fact,
Disgracing for a time a Secretarie,
Or so—the thing's not new—
[Page 50] Put on forgiving looks Sir,
We are there—
Enter Sabrina's Chamber.
A mourning silence
Sister Sabrina—
Sab.
Hence, hence,
Thou cruell hunter after life:
Thou art a paine unto my eyes as great,
As my deare Mother had when she did
Bring thee forth—And sure that was
Extreme, since she produc't a monster.
Ph.
Speake to her your selfe,
Shee's so incenst against me,
She will not welcome happines,
Because I bring it.
Pr.
Faire ornament of griefe,
Why are you troubled—
Can you beleeve there's any thing within
My power which you shall mourne for?
If you have any feares, impart them;
Any desires, give them a name,
And I will give thee rest:
You wrong the greatnes of my love,
To doubt the goodnes of it.
Sab.
Alas, I doe not doubt your love my Lord,
I feare it; 'tis that which does undoe me.
For 'tis not Samorat that's prisoner now,
It is the Princes Rivall;
Oh! for your owne sake Sir be mercifull:
How poorely will this sound hereafter,
The Prince did feare another's merit so,
Found so much vertue in his rivall, that
He was forc't to murder it, make it away.
There can be no addition to you Sir by his death,
By his life there will; You get the point
Of honour, fortune does offer here
What time perchance cannot agen:
[Page 51] A handsome opportunity to show
The bravery of your minde—
Pri.
This pretty Rhetorique cannot perswade me
(faire.
To let your Samorat live for my sake:
It is enough he shall for yours.
Sab.
Though vertue still rewards it selfe, yet here
May it not stay for that; but may the gods
Showre on you suddenly such happines,
That you may say, my mercy brought me this—
P.
The gods no doubt will heare when you doe pray
Right waies: But here you take their names in vaine,
Since you can give your selfe that happines
Which you doe aske of them.
Sab.
Most gracious Sir, doe not—
Pr.
Hold, I dare not heare thee speake,
For feare thou now should'st tell me,
What I doe tell my selfe;
That I would poorely bargaine for any favours;
Retire and banish all thy feares,
I will be kind and just to thee Sabrina,
What s'ere thou prov'st to me.
Ph.
Rarely acted Sir,—
Ex Sabr.
Pr.
Ha!—
Ph.
Good faith to th' very life.
Pr.
Acted?—No,—'twas not acted.
Ph.
How Sir?
Pr.
I was in earnest.
I meane to conquer her this way,
The others low and poore.
Ph.
Ha?—
Pr.
I told thee 'twould be so before.
Ph.
Why Sir, you doe not meane to save him?—
Pr.
Yes—I doe—
Samorat shall be releas't immediately.—
Ph.
Sure you forget I had a brother Sir,
And one that did deserve Justice at least.
Pr.
He did—
[Page 52] And he shall have it:
He that kil'd him shall dye—
And 'tis high satisfaction, that,
Looke not—
It must be so—
Exeunt.
Enter Stramador, and Peridor.
P.
No Devils Stramador,
Beleeve your eyes—To which I
Cannot be so lost▪ but
You may call to minde
One Peridor.
Str.
Ha? Peridor? thou did'st
Command that day
In which the Tamorens fell.
P.
I did—
Yet Tamoren lives.
Str.
Ha?
P.
Not Tamoren the Prince, he fell indeed;
But Tamoren his brother, who that day
Led our horse:
Young Reginella too,
Which is the subject of the suit,—
You have ingag'd your selfe by oath,
The King shall grant.
Str.
Oh! 'tis impossible,
Instruct me how I should beleeve thee.
Pe.
Why thus—
Necessity upon that great defeat
Forc't us to keep the Woods, and hide our selves
In holes which since we much inlarg'd,
And fortifi'd them in the entrance so,
That 'twas a safe retreate upon pursuite:
Then swore we all allegeance to this Tamoren.
These habits better to disguise our selves, we took at first;
But finding with what ease we rob'd,
We did continue 'em, and tooke an Oath,
Till some new troubles in the State should happen,
[Page 53] Or faire occasion to make knowne our selves
Offer it selfe, we would appeare no other:
But come, let's not loose
What we shall ne're recover,
This opportunitie—
Enter Nashorat, and Pe.
Pe.
Nashorat, you have not thought of any
Stratagem yet—
N.
Yes I have thought—
Pe.
What?—
N.
That if you have any accompts with heaven,
They may goe on—
This villanous dying's, like a strange tune,
Has run so in my head,
No wholsome consideration would enter it.
Nothing angers me neither, but that
I passe by my Mistresses window to't.
Pe.
Troth, that's unkinde,
I have something troubles me too.
N.
What's that.
Pe.
The people will say as we goe along,
Thou art the properer fellow.
Then I breake an appointment
With a Merchants Wife,
But who can help it?—
(Nashorat.
N.
Yea who can help it indeed,
She's to blame though 'faith, if she
Does not beare with thee,
Considering the occasion—
P.
Considering the occasion as you say,
A man would thinke he might be borne with.
There's a Scrivener I should have paid
Some money to, upon my word,
But—
Enter Orsabrin, Samorat, Princes servants.
Or.
By faire Sabrina's name,
I conjure you not to refuse the mercy
[Page 54] Of the Prince—
Sam.
It is resolv'd Sir, you know my answer.
Or.
Whether am I falne?
I thinke if I should live a little longer,
I should be made the cause of all the mischiefe
Which should arise to the world—
Hither I came to save a friend,
And by a slight of fortune I destroy him:
My very wayes to good prove ills.
Sure I can looke a man into misfortune:
The Plague's so great within me 'tis infectious.
Oh! I am weary of my selfe:
Sir I beseech you yet accept of it,
For I shall be his way
A sufferer,
And an executioner too—
Sam.
[...]I beg of thee no more,
Thou do'st beget in me desire to live:
For when I finde how much I am
Behind in noble acts of friendship,
I cannot chuse but wish for longer time, that I might
Struggle with thee, for what thou hast too clearly now
Got from me: The point of honour—
Oh! it is wisedome and great thrift to dye;
For who with such a debt of friendship and
Of Love, as you and my Sabrina must expect from me
Could ere subsist.
N.
They are complementing;
'Sfoot they make no more of it,
Then if 'twere who should goe in first at
A doore—I thinke Pellegrine, as you and I
Have cast it up, it comes to something
More—
Mess.
Gentlemen, prepare, the Court is setting.
Sam.
Friends, this is no time for ceremonie;
But what a racke have I within m [...],
To s [...]e you suffer.
[Page 55] And yet I hope the Prince will let this anger dye
In me, not to take the forfeiture of you.
N.
If he should, Pellegrin and I are resolv'd,
And are ready, all but our speeches to the people,
And those will not trouble us much,
For we intend not to trouble them.
(Exeunt.
Enter Prince, Peridor, and others.
Pr.
Not accept it?
Lose this way too?—What shall I doe?
He makes advantages of mine,
And like a skilfull Tennis-player,
Returnes my very best with excellent designe.
It must not be,
Bring to the Closet here above, the chiefe o'th' Jury:
I'le try another way.—
Ex.
Enter Judges, Prisoners, Lawyers.
N.
Of all wayes of destroying mankinde,
These Judges have the easiest,
They sleep and doe it.
Pe.
To my thinking now,
This is but a solemner kind of Puppet-play:
How the Devill came we to be acters in't?
So; it beginnes.
1 Judg.
The Princes Councell:
Are they ready?
Lawy.
Here—
Judg.
Begin then—
Law.
My Lords, that this so great and strange.
Sa.
Most reverend Judges,
To save th' expence of breath and time,
And dull Formalities of Law—
I here pronounce my selfe guilty.
Pri.
from above. Agen he has prevented me—
Sa.
So guilty that no other can pretend
A share—
This noble youth, a stranger to every thing
But Gallantry, ignorant in our Lawes and Customes,
[Page 56] Has made perchance
(In strange severity) a forfeit of himselfe;
But should you take it,
The gods when he is gone will sure revenge it.
If from the stalke you pull this bud of vertue,
Before 't has spread and shewne it selfe abroad,
You doe an injury to all mankinde;
And publique mischiefe cannot be private Justice.
This man's as much above a common man,
As man's above a beast; And if the Law
Destroyes not man for killing of a beast,
It should not here, for killing of a man.
Oh what mistake 'twould be?
For here you sit to weed the Cankers out
That would doe hurt 'ith' State, to punish vice;
And under that y'oud root out vertue too—
Or.
If I doe blush, 'tis not (most gracious Judges)
For any thing which I have done, 'tis for that
This much mistaken youth hath here deliver'd.
'Tis true (and I confesse) I ever had
A little stocke of honour (which I still preserv'd)
But that (by leaving me behinde alive)
He now most cunningly doe's thinke to get from me:
And I beseech your Lordships to assist me;
For 'tis most fraudulent all he desires.
Your Lawes I hope are reasonable,
Else why should reasonable men
Be subject to them; and then
Upon what grounds is he made guilty now?
How can he be thought accessarie
To th' killing of a man,
That did not know o'th' fighting with him?
Witnesse all those pow'rs which search mens hearts,
That I my selfe, (untill he beckned me)
Knew nothing of it, if such a thing
As sacrifice must be—why? Man for mans enough:
Though elder times t'appease diviner Justice,
Did offer up—
[Page 57] (Whither through gallantrie, or ignorance)
Vast multitudes of Beasts in sacrifice,
Yet numbers of men is seldome heard of:
One single Curtius purg'd a whole States sin:
You will not say th' offence is now as great,
Or that you ought to be more highly satisfied
Then Heaven—
P.
Brave youths—
N.
Pellegrin, you and I will let our sp [...]eches alone.
1 Judg.
If that the Law were of so fine a web,
As wit and fancie spin it out to, here,
Then these defences would be just, and save:
But that is more substantiall,
Of another make—
And Gentlemen, if this be all,
Sentence must passe—
Enter Tamoren.
Tam.
Orsabrin!
Or.
Ha! who names me there?
Ta.
A friend: heare me:
I am an Officer in that darke world
From whence thou cam'st, sent
Thus disguis'd by Reginella our faire Queene,
And to redeeme thee.
Or.
Reginella!
I'th' midst of all these ills,
How preciously that name doe's sound?
Ta.
If thou woult sweare to follow me,
At th' instant th' art releast;
I'le save thee and thy friends,
In spite of Law.—
Or.
Doubt not of that;
Bring me where Reginella is:
And if I follow not, perpetuall misery follow me:
It cannot be a Hell
Where she appeares—
Tam.
Be confident.—
(Goes out and brings To [...]cul [...].
[Page 58] Behold (grave Lords) the man
Whose death question'd the life of these,
Found and recovered by the Theeves
▪ith Woods;
And rescued since by us, to rescue Innocence.
Or.
Rare Devill,
With what dexteritie h'as raised this
Shape up; to delude them—
Pr.
Ha? Torcular alive?
Ph.
Torcular?
I should as soone beleeve my brother
Neere in being too.
Tor
You cannot wonder more to finde me here,
Then I doe to finde my selfe.
Na.
Come unbinde, unbinde, this matter's answered.
Judg. 2.
Hold: they are not free, the Law exacts
The same for breach of prison that it did before.
Or.
There is no scaping out of fortunes hands.
Doest heare; hast never a trick for this?—
Ta.
Doubt me not, I have without, at my command,
Those which never fail'd me;
And it shall cost many a life yet
Sir, ere yours be lost—
Pr.
Stramador you have been a stranger here of late.
Str.
Peruse this paper Sir, you'l find there was good reason for't.
Enter Prince Philatell from above.
Sramador, Peridor, Reginella meet them below.
Pr.
How! old Tamorens brother, Captaine
Of the Theeves, that has infested thus
Our Countrey?
Reginella too, the heire of that fear'd Familie!
A happy and a strange discovery.
Ta.
Peridor, and Reginella, the villaine
Has betrai'd me.
Re.
'Tis Orsabrin, they have kept their words.
Or.
Reginella? she was a woman then.
O let me goe.
Jay.
[Page 59]
You doe forget sure what you are.
Or.
I doe indeed: oh, to unriddle now!
Stra.
And to this man you owe it Sir,
You find an ingagement to him there;
And I must hope you'l make me just to him.
Pr.
He does deserve it,
Seize on him—
Tam.
Nay then all truths must out.
That I am lost and forfeit to the Law,
I doe confesse,
Yet since to save this Prince.
P.
Prince!
Or.
(Our Mephosto-philus is mad.)
Ta.
Yet, Prince, this is the Orsabrin.
Or.
Ha!—
Tam.
So long agoe,
Supposed lost,
Your Brother Sir:
Fetch in there Ardelan and Piramont.
Enter Ardelan and Piramont.
N.
What mad Planet rules this day
Ardelan, and Piramont.
Or.
The Divel's wanton,
And abuses all mankinde to day.
Ta.
These faces are well knowne to all Francelians,
Now let them tell the rest—
Pi.
My noble Master living! found in Francelia?
Ar.
The gods have satisfied our tedious hopes.
Ph.
Some Imposture.
Or.
A new designe of fortune—
I dare not trust it.
Ta.
Why speake you not?
Piram.
I am so full of joy, it will not out.
Know ye Francelians,
When Sanborne fatall field was fought,
So desperate were the hopes of Orsabrin,
That 'twas thought fit to send away this Prince,
[Page 60] And give him safety in another clime;
That spite of an ill day, an Orsabrin might be
Preserv'd alive.
Thus you all know,
To Garradans chiefe charge he was committed:
Who when our Barke by Pyrats was surpris'd,
(For so it was) was slaine 'ith first encounter;
Since that we have been forc't to wait
On Fortunes pleasure.
And Sir, that all this time we kept
You from the knowledge of your selfe,
Your pardon; It was our zeale that err'd,
Which did conclude it would be prejudiciall.
Ar.
My Lords you looke as if you doubted still:
If Piramont and I be lost unto your memory,
Your hands I hope are not—
Here's our Commission:
There's the Diamond Elephant,
That which our Princes Sons are ever knowne by:
Which we to keep him undiscovered,
Tore from his riband in that fatall day
When we were made prisoners:
And here are those that tooke us,
Which can witnesse all circumstance,
Both how, and when, time and place;
With whom we ever since have liv'd by force:
For on no Kingdome, friend unto Francelia,
Did Fortune ever land us, since that houre;
Nor gave us meanes to let our Country know
He liv'd—
T.
These very truths, when they could have no ends,
(For they beleev'd him lost)
I did receive from them before,
Which gave me now the boldnes to appeare
Here, where I'm lost by Law.
Shouts without,
Long live Prince Osabrin.
Long live Prince Orsabrin,
Na.
[Page 61]
Pellegrin let's second this:
Right or wrong 'tis best for us.
Pe.
Observe, observe.
Pr.
What shouts are those?
Str.
Souldiers of Tamorens the first;
The second was the peoples, who
Much presse to see their long lost Prince.
Phi.
Sir, 'tis most evident, and all agrees,
This was his colour'd haire,
His Aire, though alter'd much with time:
You weare too strange a face upon this newes;
Sir, you have found a brother
I, Torcular, the Kingdomes happines;
For here the plague of Robberies will end.
It is a glorious day—
Pr.
It is indeed, I am amaz'd, not sad;
Wonder doe's keep the passage so,
Nothing will out.
Brother (for so my kinder Stars will have it)
I here receive you as the bounty of the gods;
A blessing I did not expect,
And in returne to them, this day,
Francelia ever shall keep holy.
Or.
Fortune by much abusing me, has
So—dul'd my faith, I cannot
Credit any thing.
I know not how to owne such happines.
P.
Let not your doubts lessen your joyes:
If you have had disasters heretofore,
They were but given to heighten what's to come.
Na.
Here's as strange a turne as if 'twere the
Fift Act in a Play.—
Peli.
I'm sure 'tis a good turne for us.
Or.
Sir, why stands that Lady so neglected there,
That does deserve to be the busines of mankinde.
Oh ye gods: since you'l be kind
And bountifull, let it be here.
[Page 62] As fearfully, as jealous husbands aske
After some secrets which they dare not know;
Or as forbidden Lovers meet i'th night,
Come I to thee (and 'tis no ill signe this,
Since flames when they burne highest tremble most)
Oh, should she now deny me!
Re.
I know not perfectly what all this meanes;
But I doe finde some happinesse is neare,
And I am pleas'd, because I see you are—
Or.
She understands me not—
Pr.
He seemes t'have passion for her.
Ta.
Sir, in my darke commands these flames broke out
Equally, violent at first sight;
And 'twas the hope I had to reconcile my selfe.
Or.
It is a holy Magicke that will make▪
Of you and I but one.—
Re.
Any thing that you wou'd aske me, sure I might grant.
Or.
Harke Gentlemen, she doe's consent,
What wants there else?
Pe.
My hopes grow cold, I have undone my selfe.
Pr.
Nothing, we all will joyne in this;
The long liv'd feu'd between the Families
Here dyes, this day the Hyminaeall
Torches shall burne bright;
So bright, that they shall dimme the light
Of all that went before—
See Sabrina too.—
(Enter Sabrina.
Ta.
Sir, I must have much of pardon,
Not for my selfe alone, but for all mine—
Pr.
Rise, had'st thou not deserv'd what now thou su'st for,
This day should know no clouds.
Peridor kneeles to Tamoren.
Tam.
Taught by the Princes mercy; I forgive too.
Sab.
Frighted hither Sir.
They told me you woo'd not accept the Princes mercy.
Sam.
Art thou no further yet in thy intelligence?
See, thy brother lives—
Sab.
My brother?—
Tor.
[Page 63]
And 'tis the least of wonders has falne out.
Or.
Yes, such a one as you are, faire,
(Reginella looks at Sabrina
And you shall be acquainted.
Sam.
Oh could your hate my Lords, now,
Or your love dye.
Phy.
Thy merit has prevail'd
With me.
Tor.
And me.
Pr.
And has almost with me.
Samorat thou do'st not doubt thy Mistresse Constancia.
Sam.
No Sir.
Pr.
Then I will beg of her,
That till the Sun returnes to visit us,
She will not give away her selfe for ever.
Although my hopes are faint,
Yet I would have 'em hopes,
And in such jolly houres as now attend us.
I would not be a desperate thing,
One made up wholly of despaire.
Sab.
You that so freely gave me Samorats life,
Which was in danger,
Most justly, justly, may be suffer'd to attempt
Upon my love, which is in none.
Pr.
What sayes my noble Rivall?
Sab.
Sir, y' are kind in this, and wisely doe
Provide I should not surfeit:
For here is happines enough besides to last the Sun's returne.
N.
You and I are but savers with all this Pellegrin.
But by the Lord 'tis well we came off
As we did, all was at stake—
Pr.
Come, no more whispers here,
Let's in, and there unriddle to each other—
For I have much to aske.
Or.
A Life! a Friend! a Brother! and a Mistres!
Oh! what a day was here:
Gently my Joyes distill,
Least you should breake the Vessell you should fill.
FINIS.

EPILOGUE.

ANd how, and how, in faith,—a pretty plot;
And smartly carried through too, was it not?
And the Devils, how, well? and the fighting,
Well too;—a foole, and't had bin just old writing.
O what a monster wit must that man have,
That could please all which now their twelve pence gave:
High characters (cries one) and he would see
Things that ne're were, nor are, nor ne're will be.
Romances cries easie-soules, and then they sweare,
The Playe's well wr [...]t, though scarce a good line's there.
The Women—Oh if Stephen shoul [...] be kil'd,
Or misse the Lady, how the plot is spil'd?
And into how many pieces a poore Play
Is taken still before the second day?
Like a strange Beauty newly come to Court;
And to say truth, good faith 'tis all the sport:
One will like all the ill things in a Play,
Another, some o' th' good, but the wrong way;
So from one poore Play there comes t' arise
At severall Tables, severall Comedies.
The ill is only here, that 't may fall out
In Plaies as Faces; and who goes about
To take asunder oft destroyes (we know)
What altogether made a pretty shew.
FINIS.
BRENNORALT. A Traged …

BRENNORALT. A Tragedy. Presented at the Private House in Black-Fryers, by His Majesties servants.

WRITTEN By Sir JOHN SUCKLING.

LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Moseley, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Signe of the Prin­ces Armes in S t Pauls Churchyard. MDCXLVI.

The Scaene. Poland.

The Actors.
  • SIgismond—King of Poland.
  • Miefla.
    Melidor.
    A Lord. Councellors to the King.
  • Brennoralt—a Discontent.
  • Doran—His Friend.
  • Villanor.
    Grainevert.
    Marinell. Cavaliers and Officers under Brennoralt.
  • Stratheman.
  • Fresolin, Brother to Francelia.
  • Iphigene—young Pallatine of Florence.
  • Pallatine of Mensecke, Governour, one of the chiefe Rebels.
  • Pallatine of Tork a Rebell.
  • Almerin, a gallant Rebell.
  • Morat, his Lievtenant Coronell.
  • Francelia, the Governours daughter.
  • Orilla, a waiting woman to Francelia.
  • Reguelin, A servant in the Governors house, but
  • Spie to Brennoralt.
  • Iaylor.
  • Guard.
  • Souldiers.

Brennoralt.

ACT I. SCENE I.

Enter Brennoralt, Doran.
Brennoralt,
I Say, the Court is but a narrow circuit;
Though somthing elevate above the common;
A kind of Ants nest in the great wilde field,
O're charg'd with multitudes of quick Inhabi­tants,
Who still are miserably busied to get in,
What the loose foot of prodigality,
As fast do's throw abroad.
Dor.
Good:
A most eternall place of low affronts,
And then as low submissions.
Bren.
[Page 2]
Right.
High cowards in revenges 'mongst themselves,
And only valiant when they mischiefe others.
Dor.
Stars, that would have no names,
But for the ills they threaten in conjunction.
Bren.
A race of shallow, and unskilfull Pilots;
Which doe misguide the Ship even in the calme,
And in great stormes serve but as weight to sinke it.
More, prethee more.—
(Alarum within.
'Tis musique to my melancholy.
Enter Souldier.
Sold.
My Lord; a cloud of dust and men
The Sentinels from th' East gate discover;
And as they guesse, the storme bends this way.
Bren.
Let it be.
Sold.
My Lord?—
Bren.
Let it be,
I will not fight to day:
Bid Stratheman draw to the trenches.
On, prethee on.
Dor.
The King imployes a company of formall beards,
Men, who have no other proofes of their
Long life, but that they are old.
Bren.
Right, and if th' are wise,
'Tis for themselves, not others.—
(Alarum.
As old men ever are.
Enter second Soldier.
2 Sold.
Coronell, Coronell;
Th' enemies at hand, kils all the Centries:
Young Almerin leads them on agen.
Bren.
Let him lead them off agen.
2 Sold.
Coronell.—
Bren.
Be gone.
If th' art afraid, goe hide thy selfe.
2 Sold.
What a Divell ayles he?—
(Exit.
Bren.
This Almerin's the ague of the Camp:
He shakes it once a day.
Dor.
[Page 3]
Hee's the ill conscience rather:
He never lets it rest; would I were at home agen.
'Sfoot we lie here i'th' trenches, as if it were
For a winde to carry us into th' other
World: every houre we expect—
I'le no more on't.
Bre.
Prethee—
Dor.
Not I, by heaven.
Bre.
What man! the worst is but faire death.
Dor.
And what will that amount to? A faire Epitaph▪
A fine account.—I'le home I sweare.
Enter Stratheman.
Stra.
Arme, arme my Lord,
And shew your selfe, all's lost else.
Dor.
Why so?
Stra.
The Rebels like an unruly floud,
Rowle o're the trenches, and throw downe
All before them.
Bre.
Ha?
Stra.
We cannot make a stand.
Bre.
He would out-rivall me in honour too,
As well as love; but that he must not doe.
Help me Strathman.—
(Puts on Armour.
The danger now growes worthy of our swords;
And, oh Doran, I would to heaven there were
No other stormes then the worst tempest here.
(Exeunt.
Enter Marinell, throwing downe one he carries.
Mari.
There;
The Sun's the nearest Surgeon I know,
And the honestest; if thou recoverest, why so:
If not, the cure's paid, they have mauld us.
Enter Grainevert, with another upon his backe.
Grain.
A curse light on this powder;
It stayes valour, ere i [...]'s halfe way on it's journey:
What a disadvantage fight we upon in this age?
[Page 4] He that did well heretofore,
Had the broad faire day to shew it in:
Witnesses enough; we must beleeve one another—
'Tis night when we begin:
Eternall smoake and sulpher.
Smalke; by this hand I can beare with thee
No longer; how now? dead as I live;
Stolne away just as he us'd to wench.
Well, goe thy wayes, for a quiet drinker, and dier,
I shall never know thy fellow:
searches his pockets.
These trifles too about thee?
There was never an honester poore wretch
Borne I thinke—look i'th' tother pocket too—hum,
Marinell.
Mar.
Who 's that?
Grani.
'Tis I; how goes matters?
Mar.
Scurvily enough;
Yet since our Colonell came, th' ave got no ground
Of us; A weake Sculler against Winde and Tide,
Would have done as much, harke:
This way the torrent beares.
Exeunt.
Enter Fresolin, Almerin, Rebels.
Fres.
The Villaines all have left us.
Alm.
Would they had left their feares
Behind them. But come, since we must—
Enter Brennoralt, Souldiers.
Bren.
Hoe! Stratheman;
Skirt on the left hand with the horse,
And get betwixt these and that Body;
They'r new rallied up forrescue. Dor. Th 'are ours.
Brennoralt charges through.
I doe not see my game yet.—
Exeunt.
A shout within.
Enter Brennoralt, Doran, Stra­theman, Marinell.
Bren.
What shout is that?
Stra.
They have taken Almerin, my Lord.
Bren.
[Page 5]
Almerin? the Divell thanke ▪em for 't:
When I had hunted hard all day,
And now at length unhearded the proud Deere,
The Currs have snatch't him up, sound a Retreat:
There's nothing now behinde. Who saw Doran?
Str.
Shall we bring Almerin in?
Bre.
No; gazing is low Triumph:
Convey him fairely to the King,
He fought it fairely—
Dor.
What youth was that, whom you bestrid my Lord,
And sav'd from all our swords to day?
Was he not of the Enemy?
Bre.
It may be so—
Str.
The Governors Son, Fresolin, his Mistris brother.
(In Dorans e [...]e.
Br.
No matter who. 'Tis pitty, the rough hand
Of warre, should early courages destroy,
Before they bud, and shew themselves i'th' heate
Of Action—
Mar.
I threw (my Lord) a youth upon a banke;
Which seeking, after the retreate, I found
Dead, and a woman, the pretty daughter
Of the Forrester; Lucillia.
Bre.
See, see Doran; A sad experiment:
Woman's the cowardly'st and coldest thing
The world brings forth: Yet Love, as fire works water,
Makes it boyle o're, and doe things contrary
To'ts proper nature—I should shed a teare,
Could I tell how—Ah poore Lucilia!
Thou didst for me what did as ill become thee.
Pray see her gently bury'd—
Boy, send the Surgeon to the Tent; I bleed:
What lowsie Cottages th' ave given our soules?
Each petty storme shakes them into disorder;
And 't costs more paines to patch them up agen,
Then they are worth by much. I'm weary of
The Tenement.—
Exeunt.
[Page 6] Enter Villanor, Grainevert, Marinell, and Stratheman.
Gra.
Villanor▪ welcome, welcome, whence camest thou?
Vil.
Looke, I weare the Kings high way still on my boots.
Gra.
A pretty riding phrase, and how? and how?
Ladies cheap?
Vil.
Faith, reasonable:
Those toyes were never deare thou know'st;
A little time and industry they'l cost;
But in good faith not much: some few there are
That set themselves at mighty rates—
Gra.
Which we o'th' wise passe by,
As things o're-valued in the market.
Is't not so?
Vil.
Y'have said Sir, Harke you, your friend the Rivals married.
Has obtain'd the long lov'd Lady, and is such an asse after 't.
Gra.
Hum.
'Tis ever so.
The motions of married people, are as of
Other naturals; violent Gentlemen to the place,
And calme in it.
Mar.
We know this too; and yet we must be fooling.
Gra.
Faith, women are the baggage of life:
They are troublesome, and hinder us
In the great march, and yet we cannot
Be without 'em.
Mar.
You speake very well,
And Souldier-like.
Grain.
What? thou art a wit too I warrant,
In our absence?
Vil.
Hum—no, no, a poore pretender,
A Candidate or so, 'gainst the next Sessions:
Wit enough to laugh at you here.
Gra.
Like enough; valour's a crime:
The wise have still repro [...]hed unto the valiant,
And the fool [...]s too.
Vil.
R [...] lleri [...] a part, Gr [...]invert;
[Page 7] What accommodations shall we finde here?
Gra.
Cleane straw (sweet-heart) and meat
When thou canst get it.
Vil.
Hum? straw?
Gra.
Yes.
That's all will be betwixt Incest:
You, and your mother earth must lye together.
V.
Prethee let's be serious; will this last?
How goes affaires?
G.
Well.
V.
But well?
G.
Faith, 'tis now upon the turning of the ballance:
A most equall businesse, betwixt Rebellion
And Loyaltie.
V.
What doest meane?
G.
Why; which shall be the vertue, and which the vice.
V.
How the Divell can that be?
G.
Oh: successe is a rare paint; hides all the uglines.
V.
Prethee, what's the quarrell?
G.
Nay, for that excuse us;
Aske the children of peace,
They have the leisure to study it,
We know nothing of it; Liberty they say.
V.
'Sfoot, let the King make an Act,
That any man may be unmarried agen;
There's liberty for them. A race
Of half-witted fellowes quarrell about freedome?
And all that while allow the bonds of Matrimony?
G.
You speake very well Sir.
Enter King, Lords, Brennoralt.
M.
Soft; the King and Councell—
G.
Looke, they follow after like tyred spannels:
Quest sometimes for company; that is, concurre:
And that's their busines.
M.
They are as weary of this sport
As a young unthrift of's land:
Any bargaine to be rid on't.
V.
[Page 8]
Can you blame them?—
Who 's that?
M.
Brennoralt, our brave Coronell:
A discontent, but, what of that? who is not?
V.
His face speaks him one.
G.
Thou art i' th' right.
He looks still as if he were saying to
Fortune; Huswife, goe about your busines.
Come, let's retire to Barathens Tent.
Taste a bottle, and speake bold truths;
That's our way now.
Ex. Manet King and Lords.
Mies.
—Thinke not of pardon Sir,
Rigor and mercy us'd in States uncertainly,
And in ill times, looke not like th' effects
Of vertue, but necessity: Nor will
They thanke your goodnes, but your feares.—
Melid.
My Lords;
Revenge in Princes should be still imperfect:
It is then handsom'st, when the King comes to
Reduce, not Ruine—
Bre.
Who puts but on the face of punishing,
And only gently cuts, but prunes rebellion:
He makes that flourish which he would destroy.
Who would not be a Rebell when the hopes
Are vaste, the feares but small?
[Mel.]
Why, I would not.
Nor you my Lord, nor you, nor any here.
Feare keeps low spirits only in, the brave
Doe get above it, when they doe resolve.
Such punishments in infancy of warre,
Make men more desperate, not the more yeelding.
The common people are a kind of flyes;
They 're caught with honey, not with wormewood, Sir.
Severity exasp'rates the stirr'd humour;
And State distempers turnes into diseases.
Bre.
The gods forbid, great Polands State should be
Such as it dares not take right Physick. Quarter
To Rebels? Sir! when you give that to them,
[Page 9] Give that to me, which they deserve. I would
Not live to see it—
3 Lord.
Turne o're your owne, and other Chronicles,
And you shall finde (great Sir)
"That nothing makes a Civill warre long liv'd,
"But ransome and returning backe the brands
Which unextinct, kindled still fiercer fires.
Mies.
Mercy bestow'd on those that doe dispute
With swords, do's loose the Angels face it has,
And is not mercy Sir, but policie;
With a weake vizard on—
King.
—Y' have met my thoughts
My Lords; nor will it need larger debate.
To morrow, in the sight of the besiedg'd,
The Rebell dyes: Miesla, 'tis your care.
The mercy of Heav'n may be offended so,
That it cannot forgive: Mortals much more,
Which is not infinite, my Lords.
(Exeunt.
Enter Iphigene, Almerin (as in prison.)
Iph.
O Almarin; would we had never knowne
The ruffle of the world! but were againe
By Stolden banks, in happy solitude;
When thou and I, Shepheard and Shepheardesse;
So oft by turnes, as often still have wisht,
That we as eas'ly could have chang'd our sex,
As clothes; but (alas!) all those innocent joyes,
Like glorious Mornings, are retir'd into
Darke sullen clouds, before we knew to value
What we had.
[Alme.]
Fame & victory are light (to himself.
Huswifes, that throw themselves into the armes,
Not of the valiant, but the fortunate.
To be tane, thus!
[Iph.]
Almerin
[Alm.]
nipt 'ith' bud
Of honour!
[Iph.]
My Lord
[Alm.]
Foil'd! & by the man
That doe's pretend unto Francelia!
Iph.
What is't you doe, my Almerin? sit still?
And quarrell with the Winds, because there is
A shipwrack tow' [...]ds, and never thinke of saving
[Page 10] The barke?
[Almer:]
The Barke? What should we doe with that
When the rich freight is lost: my name in armes?
Iph.
—Who knowes
What prizes are behind, if you attend
And waite a second Voyage?
[Almer:]
Never, never:
There are no second Voyages in this,
The wounds of honour doe admit no cure.
Iph.
Those slight ones which misfortune gives, must needs.
Else, why should Mortals value it at all?
For who would toyle to treasure up a wealth;
Which weake inconstancy did keep, or might
Dispose of?—
Enter Melidor.
Oh my Lord, what newes?
Mel.
As ill as your owne feares could give you;
The Councell has decreed him sudden death,
And all the wayes to mercy are blockt up.
(She weeps and sighs.
Almer.
My Iphigene—
This was a misbecomming peece of love:
Women would manage a disaster better—
(Iphig: weeps & sighs agen.
Againe? thou art unkinde—
Thy goodnes is so grea [...], it makes thee faulty:
For while thou think' [...]t to take the trouble from me,
Thou givest me more, by giving me thine too.
Iph.
Alas! I am indeed a uselesse t [...]i [...]ie;
A dull, dull thing: For could I now doe any thing
But grieve and pitty, I might help: my thoughts
Labour to finde a way; but like to birds
In cages, though they never rest t [...]ey are
But where they did set out at first—
Enter Jaylor.
Jay.
My Lords, your pardon:
The prisoner must retire;
I have receiv'd an order from the King,
Denies accesse to any.
Iph.
—He cannot be
So great a Tyrant.
[Almer.]
I thanke him; nor can
He use me ill enough: I onely grieve
[Page 11] That I must dye in debt; a Bankrupt: Such
Thy love hath made me: My deare Iphigene
Farewell: It is no time for Ceremony.
Shew me the way I must—
(Exit.
Iph.
Griefe strove with such disorder to get out,
It stopt the passage, and sent backe my words
That were already on the place—
[Melid.]
stay, there
Is yet a way.
[Iph.]
O speake it
[Mel.]
But there is
Danger in't Iphigene, to thee high danger.
Iph.
Fright children in the darke with that, and let
Me know it: There is no such thing in nature
If Almerin be lost.
[Melid.]
Thus then; You must
Be taken pris'ner too, and by exchange
Save Almerin.
Iph.
How can that be?
Mel.
Why—
(studies.
Step in, and pray him set his hand, about
(To the Jaylor.
This distance; his seale too—
Jay.
My Lord, I know not what this is.
Mel.
Setling of money-busines, foole, betwixt us.
Jay.
If't be no more—
(Exit.
Mel.
Tell him that Iphigene and I desire it:
I'le send by Strathocles his servant,
A Letter to Morat thus sign'd and seal'd,
That shall informe the sudden execution;
Command him as the only meanes
To save his life, to sallie out this night
Upon the quarters, and endeavour prisoners.
Name you as most secure and slightest guarded,
Best pledge of safety; but charge him,
That he kill not any, if it be avoydable;
Least 't should inrage the King yet more,
And make his death more certaine.
(Enter Jaylor with the writing.
Jay.
He understands you not
He sayes; but he has sent it.
Melid.
So—
Iph.
[Page 12]
But should Morat mistrust now?
Or this miscarry?
Melid.
—Come;
Leave it to me; I'le take the Pilots part;
And reach the Port, or perish in the Art.
(Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter Almerin (in prison.)
Almer.
SLeep is as nice as woman;
The more I court it, the more it flies me;
Thy elder brother will be kinder yet,
Unsent for death will come.—To morrow—
Well—What can to morrow doe?
'Twill cure the sense of honour lost—
I, and my discontents shall rest together,
What hurt is there in this?
But death against the will,
Is but a slovenly kinde of potion;
And though prescrib'd by Heaven,
It goes against mens stomacks:
So does it at fourescore too; when the soule's
Mew'd up in narrow darknes;
Neither sees nor heares,—pish, 'tis meer fondnes in our na­ture;
A certaine clownish cowardise, that still
Would stay at home, and dares not venture
Into forreigne Countries, though better then
It's owne,—ha, what Countries? for we receive
Descriptions of th'other world from our Divines,
As blinde men take relation of this from us:
My thoughts leade me into the darke,
And there they'l leave me, I'le no more on't,
Within.
(Knocks)
—
Enter.
Some paper and a light, I'le write to th' King:
[Page 13] Defie him, and provoke a quicke dispatch.
I would not hold this ling'ring doubtfull State
So long againe, for all that hope can give.
Enter 3 of the Guard (with paper and Incke)
That sword does tempt me strangely—
(writing.
Wer't in my hands, 'twere worth th' other two.
But then the Guard,—it sleeps or drinks; may be
To contrive it so that if I should not passe,—
Why if I fall in't,
'Tis better yet then Pageantry;
A scaffold and spectators; more souldier-like—
One of the Guard peeps over his shoulder.
Uncivill villaine, read my letter?—
(Seizes his sword.
1 Guar.
Not I, not I my Lord.
Alm.
Deny it too?
Guar.
Murder, murder.
Guar.
Arme, arme—
(The Guard runs out.
Alm.
I'le follow,
Give the alarum with them,
'Tis least suspitious—
(Arme, arme, arme.
All—the enemy, the enemy—
(Enter Soldiers running [...]ver t [...]e Stage, one throwing away his armes.
Soul.
Let them come.
Let them come.
Let them come—
(Enter Almerin.
Alm.
I heare fresh noise,
The camp's in great disorder: where am I now?
'Tis strangely darke—Goddesse without eyes
Be thou my guide, for—blindnes and sight
Are equall sense, of equall use, this night.
Enter Grainevert, Stratheman, Villanor, Mari [...]ll.
Gra.
Trouble not thy selfe, childe of discontent:
'Twill take no hurt I warrant thee;
The State is but a little drunke,
And when 'tas spued up that that made it so,
'Twill be well agen, there's my opinion in short.
Mar.
Th' art i'th' right.
The State's a pretty forehanded State,
And will doe reason herea [...]er.
[Page 14] Let's drinke and talke no more on't.
All.
—A good motion, a good motion,
Let's drinke.
Villa.
I, I let's drinke agen.
Stra.
Come, to a Mistris.
Gra.
Agreed.
Name, name.
Villa.
Any body.— Vermilia.
Gra.
Away with it.
Shee's pretty to walke with:
And witty to talke with:
And pleasant too to thinke on.
But the best use of all,
Is her health, is a stale
And helps us to make us drinke on▪
Stra.
Excellent.
Gentlemen, if you say the word,
Wee'l vant credit, and affect high pleasure.
Shall we?
Villa.
I, I, let's do that.
Stra.
What thinke ye of the sacrifice now?
Mar.
Come wee'le ha't,—for trickling teares are vaine▪
Villa.
The sacrifice? what's that?
Stra.
Child of ignorance, 'tis a campe health.
An A—la—mode one. Grainevert begin it.
Grain.
Come give it me.
Let me see—
(Pins up a Rose.
Which of them this Rose will serve.
Hum, hum, hum.
Bright Star o'th' lower Orbe, twinckeling Inviter,
Which draw'st (as well as eyes) but set'st men righter:
For who at thee begins▪ comes to the place,
Sooner then he that sets out at the face:
Eyes are seducing lights, that the goodwomen know,
And hang out these a nearer way to show.
Mar.
Fine, and patheticall:
Come Villanor.
Vill▪
What's the matter?
Mar.
[Page 15]
Come, your liquor, and your stanza's.
Lines, Lines.
Villa.
Of what?
Mar.
Why, of any thing your Mistris has given you.
Vil.
Gentlemen, she never gave me any thing, but a boxe
Oth'eare, for offering to kisse her once.
Stra.
Of that boxe then
Mar.
I, I, that boxe, of that boxe.
Villa.
Since it must be,
Give me the poyson then.—
(Drinkes and spits.
That boxe faire Mistris, which thou gavest to me,
In humane guesse, is like to cost me three:
Three cups of Wine, and verses sixe,
The Wine will downe, but verse for rime still sticks.
By which you all may easily Gentiles know,
I am a better drinker then a Po.—
Enter Doran.
Mar.
Doran.
Doran.
Gra.
A hall, a hall
To welcome our friend
For some liquor call,
A new or fresh face,
Must not alter our pace,
But make us still drinke the quicker:
Wine, Wine, oh'tis divine
Come fill it unto our brother:
What's at the tongues [...]nd,
It forth does send,
And will not a syllable smother Then,
It unlocks the brest
And throwes out the rest,
And learnes us to know each other.
Wine,—Wine.—
Dor.
Mad lads▪ have you been here ever since?
Stra.
Yes faith, thou seest the worst of us.
We—debauch—in discipline:
Foure and twenty houres is the time:
[Page 16] Barruthen had the watch to night,
To morrow 'twill be at my Tent.
Dor.
Good,
And d' you know what has falne out to night?
Stra.
Yes:
Grainevert, and my Lievtenant Coronell:
But they are friends againe.
Dor.
Pish, pish—the young Palatine of Plocence,
And his grave guardian surpris'd too night,
Carri'd by the enemy out of his quarters.
G.
As a chicken by a Kite out of a back side,
Was't not so?
D.
Is that all?
G.
Yes.
My Coronell did not love him:
He eats sweet meats upon a march too.
D.
Well, harke ye;
Worse yet; Almerin's gone:
Forc'd the Court of Guard where he was prisoner,
And has made an escape.
G.
So pale and spiritlesse a wretch,
Drew Priams curtaine in the dead of night,
And told him halfe his Troy was burnt—
He was of my minde. I would have done so my selfe.
D.
Well.
There's high suspitions abroad:
Ye shall see strange discoveries
I'th' Councell of Warre.
G.
What Councell?
D.
One call'd this morning.
Y' are all sent to.
G.
I will put on cleane linnen, and speake wisely.
V.
'Sfoot wee'l have a Round first.
G.
By all meanes Sir.
Sings:
Come let the State stay,
And drinke away▪
There is no businesse above it:
[Page 17] It warmes the cold braine,
Makes us speake in high straine,
Hee's a foole that doe's not approve it.
The Macedon youth
Left behind him this truth,
That nothing is done with much thinking;
He drunke, and he fought,
Till he had what he sought,
The world was his owne by good drinking.
(Exeunt.
Enter Generall of the Rebels, Palatine of Trocke, Palatine of Mensecke, Francelia, Almerin, Morat, Iphigene.
G.
As your friend, my Lord, he has the priviledge of ours,
And may enjoy a liberty we would deny
To enemies.
A.
I thanke your Excellence; oh Iphigene,
He does not know,
That thou the nobler part of friendship hold'st,
And doe'st oblige, whilst I can but acknowledge.
Men.
Opportunity to States-men, is as the just degree
Of heate to Chymists—it perfects all the worke,
And in this pris'ner 'tis offer'd.
We now are there, where men should still begin;
To treate upon advantage.
The Palatine of Trocke, and Mensecke,
With Almerin, shall to the King;
Petitions shall be drawne,
Humble in forme, but such for matter▪
As the bold Macedonian youth would send
To men he did despise for luxury.
The first begets opinion of the world,
Which looks not far, but on the outside dwels:
Th' other inforces courage in our owne,
For bold demands must boldly be maintain'd.
Pal.
Let all goe on still in the publique name,
But keep an eare open to particular offers;
Liberty and publique good are like great Oleos
[Page 18] Must have the uper end still of our tables,
Though they are but for shew.
Fra.
Would I had ne're seen this shape, 't has poyson in't,
Yet where dwells good, if ill inhabits there?
Min.
—Presse much religion,
For though we dresse the scruples for the multitude,
And for our selves reserve th' advantages,
(It being much pretext) yet is it necessary;
For things of faith are so abstruse, and nice,
They will admit dispute eternally:
So how so e're other demands appeare,
These never can be prov'd unreasonable;
The subject being of so fine a nature,
It not submits it selfe to sense, but scapes▪
The trials which conclude all common doubts.
Fra.
My Lord, you use me as ill Painters paint,
Who while they labour to make faces faire,
Neglect to make them like.
Iphi.
Madam, there is no ship wracke of your
Vertues neare, that you should throw away
Any of all your excellencies
To save the dearest, modesty.
Gener.
If they proceed with us, we can retreat unto
Our expositions, and the peoples votes.
If they refuse us wholy▪ then we plead,
The King's besiedged, blockt up so straightly
By some few, reliefe can find no way
To enter to the King, or to get out to us,
Exclaime against it loud,
Till the Polonians thinke it high injustice,
And wish us better yet.
Then easily do we rise unto our ends.
And will become their envy through their pitty.
At worst you may confirme our party there:
Increase it too: there is one Brennoralt,
Men call him Gallant, but a discontent:
My Cosen▪ the King hath us'd him ill.
Him a handsome whisper will draw.
[Page 19] The afternoone shall perfect
What we have loosely now resolv'd.—
Iphi.
If in discourse of beauty,
(So large an Empire) I do wonder,
It will become your goodnesse Madam,
To set me right.
And in a country where you your selfe is Queene,
Not suffer strangers loose themselves.
Gener.
What, making revenges Palatine?
And taking prisoners faire Ladies hearts?
Iphi.
Yes my Lord.
And have no better fortune in this Warre,
Then in the other; for while I thinke to take,
I am surprized my selfe.
Fra.
Dissembler, would thou wert.
M.
You are a Courtier my Lord;
The Palatine of Plocence,
(Almerin)
Will grace the Hymeneals;
And that they may be while his stay is here,
I'le court my Lo [...]d in absence;
Take off for you the little strangenesses
Virgins weare at first,—
(Iphe sounds.
Look to the Palatine.
Mer.
How is't my dearest Ipheg [...]ne?
Iph.
Not well I would retire.
G.
A qualme.
Lo.
His colour stole away; sanke downe,
As water in a weather-glasse
Prest by a warme hand.
Mens.
A cordiall of kind lookes,—
(En [...]er a Trum­pet blinded.
From the King.
M.
Let's withdraw,
And heare him.—
Exit.
Enter Brennoralt, Doran, Raguelin.
Dor.
Yes to be married;
What are you mute now?
Bren.
Thou cam'st too hastily upon me, pu [...]
So close the colours to mine eye, I could
[Page 20] Not see. It is impossible.
[Dor.]
impossible?
If't were impossible, it should be otherwise,
What can you imagine there of Constancy?
Where 'tis so much their nature to love change,
That when they say but what they are,
They excuse themselves for what they doe?
Bren.
She hardly knowes him yet, in such an instant.
Dor.
Oh you know not how fire flies,
When it does catch light matter, woman.
B.
No more of that; She is
Yet the most precious thing in all my thoughts.
If it be so—
(Studies.)
I am a lost thing in the world Doran.
D.
How?
Bren.
Thou wilt in vaine perswade me to be other
Life which to others is a Good that they
Enjoy, to me will be an evill, I
Shall suffer in—
Dor.
Looke on another face, that's present remedy.
Bren.
How ill thou doest conclude?
'Cause there are pestilent ayres, which kill men suddenly
In health, must there be soveraigne as suddenly,
To cure in sicknes? 't never was in nature▪
Exit, and
Enters againe hastily.
Bren.
I was a foole to thinke, Death only kept
The doores of ill-pay'd love, when or disdaine,
Or spite could let me out as well—
Dor.
Right; were I as you,
It should no more trouble me
To free my selfe of love,
Then to spit out that which made me sicke.
Bren.
I'le tell her so; that she may laugh at me,
[...] at a prisoner threatning his Guard,
He will breake loose, and so is made the faster.
She hath charmes.—
(Studies)
Doran can fetch in a rebellious heart,
[...] while it is conspiring liberty.
[Page 21] —Oh she hath all
The vertues of her sexe, and not the vices,
Chaste and unsullied, as first op'ning Lillies,
Or untouch'd buds—
Dor.
Chaste? why! do you honour me,
Because I throw my selfe not off a precipice?
'Tis her ruine to be otherwise;
Though we blame those that kill themselves (my Lord)
We praise not him that keeps himselfe alive,
And deserves nothing.
Bren.
And 'tis the least.
She doe's triumph, when she doe's but appeare:
I have as many Rivals as beholders.
Dor.
All that encreases but our jealousies;
If you have now such qualmes for that you havenot,
What will you have for that you shall possesse?
Bren.
—Dull haeritique;
Know I have these, because I have not her:
When I have her, I shall have these no more.
Her fancy now, her vertue then will governe:
And as I use to watch with doubtfull eye,
The wavering needle in the best Sun-dyall,
Till it has setled, then the trouble's o're,
Because I know when it is Fixt, it's True:
So here my doubts are all afore me. Sure,
Doran, crown'd Conquerours are but the types
Of Lovers, which enjoy, and really
Possesse, what th'other have in dreames. I'le send
A challenge to him.—
Dor.
Do, and be thought a mad-man.
To what purpose?
If shee love him, shee will but hate you more.
Lovers in favour
(Brenkoralt)
are Gamesters
In good fortune; the more you set them,
The more they get.
Bren.
I'le see her then this night, by Heaven I will▪
Dor.
Where? in the Cittadell?
Bren.
Know what▪ and why.—
Dor▪
[Page 22]
He raves, Brennoralt?
Bren.
Let me alone.—
I conjure thee, by the discretion
Left betwixt us, (that's thine,
For mine's devour'd by injuries of fortune,)
Leave me to my selfe.
Dor.
I have done.
Bren.
Is there such a passage,
As thou hast told me of, into the Castle?
Rag.
There is my Lord.
Bren.
And dar'st thou let me in?
Rag.
If you my Lord will venture.
Bren.
There are no Centry's neare it.
Rag.
None.
Bren.
How to the chamber afterward?
Rag.
Her woman.
Bren.
What's shee?
Rag.
A wicket to my Ladies secrets,
One that stands up to marriage with me.
Bren.
There—upon thy life be secret.—
(flings a purse.
Rag.
Else,—All punishment to ingratitude.—
Bren.
Enough,
I am a storme within till I am there,
Oh Doran!
That that, which is so pleasant to behold,
Should be such paine within!
Dor.
Poore Brennoralt!
Thou art the Martyr of a thousand tyrants:
Love, Honour, and Ambition raigne by turnes,
And shew their power upon thee.
Bren.
Why, let them; I'm still Brennoralt: "Ev'n Kings
"Themselves, are by their servants rul'd sometimes;
"Let their own slaves govern them at odde houres:
"Yet not subject their Persons or their Powers.
Exeunt.

ACT III. SCENE I.

Enter Iphigene (as in a Garden)
Iphi.
WHat have I got by changing place?
But as a wretch which ventures to the Wars,
Seeking the misery with paine abroad,
He found, but wisely thought h'had left at home.
Fortune thou hast no tyranny beyond
This usage.—
(Weepes
Would I had never hop't
Or had betimes dispair'd, let never in
The gentle theife, or kept him but a guest,
Not made him Lord of all.
Tempests of wind thus (as my stormes of griefe
Carry my teares, which should relieve my heart)
Have hurried to the thankelesse Ocean clouds
And showers, that needed not at all the curtesie;
When the poore plaines have languish't for the want,
And almost burnt asunder.—
I'le have this Statues place, and undertake
At my own charge to keepe the water full.—
(Lies down.
Enter Francelia.
Fran.
These fond impressions grow too strong upon me,
They were at first without designe or end;
Like the first Elements, that know not what
And why they act, and yet produce strange things;
Poore innocent desires, journeying they know
Not whether: but now they promise to themselves
Strange things, grow insolent, threaten no rest
Till they be satisfied.
What difference was between these Lords?
The one made love, as if he by assault
Would take my heart, so forc't it to defence;
While t'other blew it up with secret mines,
And lest no place for it, here he is.—
[Page 24] Teares steale too from his eyes,
As if not daring to be knowne
To passe that way: make it good, cunning griefe
Thou knowst thou couldst not dresse thy selfe
In any other lookes, to make thee lovely.
(spies Francelia)
Iphi.
Francelia
If through the ignorance of places,
I have intruded on your privacies,
Found out forbidden paths; 'tis fit you pardon, Madam:
For 'tis my melancholly, not I, offends.
Fran.
So great a melancholly would well become
Mischances, such as time could not repaire:
Those of the warre, are but the petty cures
Of every comming hower.—
Iphi.
Why should I not tell her all? since 'tis in her
To save my life; who knowes but she may be
Gallant so far, as to undo her selfe
To make another happy?—Madam,
The accidents of war contribute least
To my sad thoughts, (if any such I have)
—Imprisonment can never be—
Where the place holds what we must love, and yet—
Fran.
My Lord?
Iphi.
In this imprisonment.—
Fran.
Proceed my Lord:
Iphi.
I dare not Madam.
Fran.
I see I do disturbe you, and enter upon secrets—
Which when I know, I cannot serve you in them.
Iphi.
Oh most of any
You are the cause of all.
Fran.
I my Lord?
Iphi.
You Madam—you alone.
Fran.
Alas! that 'tis too soone to understand.
Iphi.
Must not you marry Almerin?
Fran.
They tell me 'tis design'd.
Iphi.
If he have you, I am for ever lost
Fran.
—Lost?
The Heavens forbid they should designe so ill!
[Page 25] Or when they shall, that I should be the cause.
Iphi.
Ha! her eyes are strangely kind,
Shee prompts me excellently,
Stars be propitious, and I am safe.
—A way I not expected.
Fran.
His passion labours for vent.
Iphi.
Is there a hope you will not give your selfe
To Almerin?
Fran.
My Lord this ayre is common,
The walkes within are pleasanter.—
(Exit.
Iphi.
—Invitation!
God of desires, be kind, and fill me now
With language; such thou lend'st thy Favourites,
When thou wouldst give them easie victories:
And I forgive thee, all thy cruelties.—
(Exit. after.
Enter Pallatine of Trock▪ Menseck, Almerin, Brennoralt, Lords.
Mens.
—Consider too, that those
Who are necessiated to use violence,
Have first been violent by necessity.
Pall.
—But still you judge not right
"Of the Prerogative; "For oft it stands
"With Pow'r and Law, as with our Faith and Reason:
"It is not all against, that is above.
(my Lord.)
2. Lord.
You Lithuanians had of all least reason;
For would the King be unjust to you he cannot:
Where there's so little to be had.—
Almer.
Where there is least, there's liberty
(my Lord.)
And 'tis more injurie to pull haires
From the bald, then from the bushy heads.
(They go off talking▪ Trock puls Bren­noralt.
Pall.
of Tro. Brennoralt—a word
My Lord, the world hath cast its eye upon you,
And mark'd you out one of the formost men:
Y'have busied fame the eareliest of any,
And send her still on errands.
Much of the bravery of your nation,
Has taken up it's lodging in you.
And gallant men but coppy from you.
Bren.
[Page 26]
'Tis goodly language this, what would it meane?
Pall. of Tro.
The Lithuanians wish you well, and wonder
So much desert should be so ill rewarded.
Bren.
Good.
Pall.
While all the guifts the Crown is Mistris of,
Are plac'd upon the empty—
Bren.
Still I take yon not.
P.
Then to be plaine; our Army would be proud of you:
Pay the neglected scores of merit double.
All that you hold here of command, and what
Your fortune in this Sigismund has suff er'd,
Repaire, and make it fairer then at first.
Bren.
How?
Then nothing, Lord; trifle below ill language:
How came it in thy heart to tempt my honour?
Pall.
My Lord?
Bren.
Do'st thinke 'cause I am angry
With the King and State sometimes
I am fallen out with vertue, and my selfe?
Draw, draw, or by goodnesse—
P
What meanes your Lordship?
Bren.
Draw I say.
—He that would thinke me a villaine, is one:
And I do weare this toy, to purge the world
Ent. K of Pal. Lords, Melid. Miesla.
Of such. Th'have sav'd thee, wert thou good natur'd
Thou wouldst love the King the better during life.
K.
If they be just, they call for gracious answers:
Speedy, (how e're) we promise.
(They all kisle the Kings hand.
All.
Long live great Sigismond.
Bren.
—The Lithuanians Sir,
Are of the wilder sort of creatures, must
Be rid with Cavilons, and with harsh curbs.
And since the war can only make them tride,
What can be used but swords? where men have fal'ne
From not respecting Royalty, unto
A liberty of offending it: what though
Their numbers (possibly) equall yours Sir?
And now forc't by necessity, like Catts
[Page 27] In narrow roomes, they fly up in your face?
Thinke you Rebellion and Loyalty
Are empty names? and that in Subjects hearts
They don't both give and take away the courage?
Shall we beleeve there is no difference
In good and bad? that there's no punishment,
Or no protection? forbid it Heaven!
If when great Polands honour, safety too,
Hangs in dispute, we should not draw our Swords,
Why were we ever taught to weare 'em Sir?
Mi.
This late commotion in your Kingdom Sir,
Is like a growing Wen upon the face,
Which as we cannot looke one but with trouble,
So take't away we cannot but with danger.
War there hath foulest fac [...], and I most feare it
Where the pretence is fair'st. Religion
And Liberty, most specious names, [...]hey urge;
Which like the Bils of subtle Mountebankes,
Fill'd with great promises of curing all,
—Though by the wise,
Pass'd by unread as common cosenage,
Yet, By th'unknowing multitude they're still
Admir'd, and flock't unto.—
K.
Is there no way
To disabuse them?
[Melid]
All is now too late.
`The vulgar in Religion are like
"Unknown Lands; those that first possesse them, have them▪
Then, Sir, consider, justnesse of Cause is nothing:
When things are risen to the point they are;
'Tis either not examin'd or beleev'd
Among the Warlike.—
The better cause the Grecians had of Yore,
Yet were the Gods themselves divided in't;
And the foule ravisher found as good protection
As the much injur'd husband.—
Nor are you Sir assur'd of all behinde you:
For though your Person in your Subjects hearts
Stands highly honour'd, and belov'd, yet are
[Page 28] There certaine Acts of State, which men call grievances
Abroad; and though they bare them in the times
Of peace, yet will they now perchance, seeke to
Be free, and throw them off. "For know Dread Sir,
"The Common People are much like the Sea,
"That suffers things to fall and sinke unto
"The bottome in a Calme, which in a Storme
"Stird and inraged, it lifts, and does keep up
Then; Time distempers cures more safely Sir,
Then Physick does, or instant letting-bloud:
Religion now is a young Mistris there,
For which each man will fight, and dye at least;
Let it alone a while, and 'twill become
A kind of marry'd wife: people will be
Content to live with it in quietnesse.
(If that at least may be) my voyce is therefore Sir,
For Peace.—
Mies.
Were Sir the question simply War or Peace,
It were no more then shortly to be askt,
Whether we would be well or ill:
Since War the sicknesse of the Kingdome is,
And Peace the health: But here I do conceive
'Twill rather lye, whether we had not better,
Endure sharpe sicknesse for a time, to enjoy
A perfect strength, then have it languish on us:
For Peace and War in an incestuous line,
Have still begot each other.—
Those men that highly now have broke all Lawes,
(The great one only 'tis 'twixt man and man)
What safety can they promise, though you give it?
Will they not still suspect, (and justly too)
That all those civill bonds (new made) should be
Broken againe to them? so being still
In feares and jealousies themselves, they must
Infect the People: "For in such a case
"The private safety is the publike trouble.
Nor will they ever want Praetext; "Since he
"That will maintaine it with his Sword hee's iniur'd,
[Page 29] "May say't at any time—
Then Sir, as terrible as war appeares,
My vote is for't; nor shall I ever care
How ugly my Physitians face shall be,
So he can doe the cure.
Lord.
In entring phisique,
I thinke, Sir, none so much considers
The Doctors face, as his owne body.
To keep on foot the warre with all your wants,
Is to let bloud, and take strong potions,
In dangerous sicknesse.
K.
I see, and wonder not to finde, my Lords,
This difference in opinion; the subject's large:
Nor can we there too much dispute, where when
We erre, 'tis at a Kingdomes charges; Peace
And warre are in themselves indifferent,
And time doth stamp them either good or bad:
But here the place is much considerable;
"Warre in our owne is like to too much heate
"Within, it makes the body sicke; when in
"Another Countrey, 'tis but exercise;
"Conveighs that heat abroad, and gives it health.
To that I bend my thoughts; but leave it to
Our greater Councell, which we now assemble:
Meane time exchange of pris'ners only we
Assent unto—
Lord.
Nothing of Truce, Sir?
[K.]
No: wee'l not take up
Quiet at int'rest: Perfect Peace, or nothing.
"Cessations for short times in warre, are like
"Small fits of health, in desp'rate maladies:
"Which while the instant paine seemes to abate,
"Flatters into debauch and worse estate.—
Exeunt.
Enter Iphigene as leading to her chamber Francelia; Servants with lights; Morat, and another Souldier.
Iph.
I have not left my selfe a faire retreate,
And must be now the blest object
Of your love, or subject of your scorne.
Fran.
[Page 30]
I feare some treacherie;
And that mine eyes have given intelligence.
Unlesse you knew there would be weak defence,
You durst not thinke of taking in a heart,
As soone as you set downe before it.
Iph.
Condemne my Love not of such fond ambition,
It aymes not at a conquest,
But exchange, Francelia—
(whisper.
Mor.
They 're very great in this short time.
Sol.
'Tis ever so:
Young and handsome
Have made acquaintances in nature:
So when they meet, they have the lesse to doe.
It is for age or uglines to make approaches,
And keep a distance.
Iph.
When I shall see other perfection,
Which at the best will be but other vanity,
Not more, I shall not love it—
Fran.
'Tis still one step not to despaire, my Lord.
Exeunt Iphig. Fran. servants.
Morat.
Doest thinke he will fight?
Sold.
Troth it may be not:
Nature, in those fine peeces, does as Painters;
Hangs out a pleasant Excellence
That takes the eye, which is indeed,
But a course canvas in the naked truth,
Or some slight stuffe.
Morat.
I have a great minde to taste him.
Sold.
Fy! a Prisoner?
Morat.
By this hand if I thought—
Enter Iphig: waiting­woman comming after him.
He courted my Coronels M rs in earnest.
Wom.
My Lord, my Lord,
My Lady thinks the Gessimine walks
Will be the finer, the freshnes
f th' morning takes of the strength
O' th' heate she sayes.
Iph.
'Tis well.
Mor.
Mewe—doe it so? I suspect vildly,
Wee'l follow him, and see if he be
[Page 31] So farre quallified towards a souldier,
As to drinke a crash in's chamber—
(Raguelin puls the wai­ting woman backe.
R.
Where are those keyes?
Wom.
Harke you, I dare not doe it.
R.
How?
Wom.
My Lady will finde—
R.
Scruples?
Are my hopes become your feares?
There was no other way I should be any thing
In this lewd world,—and now—
'Sfoot, I know she longs to see him too.
Wom.
Does she?
R.
Doe you thinke he would desire it else?
Wom.
I, but—
R.
Why, let me secure it all.
I'le say I found the Keyes, or stole them: Come—
Wom.
Well, if you ruine all now—
Here, these enter the garden from the works,
That the privy walks and that the backe staires.
Then you know my chamber.
R.
Yes I know your chamber.—
Exeunt
Enter Brennoralt.
Bren.
He comes not.
One wise thought more▪ and I returne:
I cannot in this act seperate the foolish
From the bold so farre, but still it tasts a' th, rash.
Why let it taste, it tasts of love too;
And to all actions 't gives a pretty rellish, that.
Enter Raguelin.
Rag.
My Lord?
Bren.
Oh—here.
Rag.
'Sfoot y' are upon our Centries.
Move on this hand.—
Exeunt.
Enter (agen) Bren. and Rague.
Bren.
Where are we now?
Ra.
Entring part of the Fort,
Your Lordship must be wet a little.—
Exeunt.
[Page 32] Enter (againe.)
Bren.
Why are there here no guards?
Ra.
There needs none:
You presently must passe a place,
Where one's an Army in defence,
It is so steep and strait.
Bren.
'Tis well.
Ra.
These are the steps of danger;
Looke to your way my Lord.
Bren.
I doe not find such difficulty.
Francelia (as in a bed.)
Bren.
Waite me here abouts—
(he drawes the curtaines.
So Misers looke upon their gold,
Which while they joy to see, they feare to loose:
The pleasure of the sight scarse equalling,
The jealousie of being dispossest by others;
Her face is like the milky way i'th' skie,
A meeting of gentle lights without name.
Heavens! shall this fresh ornament
Of the world; this precious lovelines
Passe with other common things
Amongst the wasts of time, what pity 't were.
(She wakes.
Franc.
Blesse me!
Is it a Vision, or Brennoralt?
Bren.
Brennoralt, Lady.
Franc.
Brennoralt? innocence guard me;
What is 't you have done my Lord?
Bren.
Alas I were in too good estate,
If I knew what I did.
But why aske you Madam?
Fran.
It much amazes me to thinke
How you came hither.
And what could bring you to indanger thus
My honour, and your owne life?
Nothing but saving of my brother
Could make me now preserve you.
Bren.
Reproach me not the follies, you your selfe▪
Make me commit—
[Page 33] I am reduc'd to such extremity,
That love himselfe (high tyrant as he is)
If he could see would pity me.
Fran.
I understand you not.
Bren.
Would heaven you did, for 't is a paine to tell you:
I come t'accuse you of injustice (Madam)
You first begot my passion, and was
Content (at least you seem'd so) it should live;
Yet since would ne're contribute unto it,
Not looke upon 't, as if you had desired,
Its being for no other end; but for
The pleasure of its ruine—
Fran.
Why doe you labour thus to make me guilty of
An injury to you, which when it is one,
All mankinde is alike ingag'd, and must
Have quarrell to me?
Bren.
I have done ill; you chide me justly (Madam)
I'le lay 't not on you, but on my wretched selfe.
For I am taught that heavenly bodies
Are not malicious in their influence,
But by the disposition of the subject.
They tell me you must marry Almerin:
Sure such excellence ought to be
The recompence of vertue;
Not the sacrifice of Parents wisedome,
Should it not Madam?
Fran.
'Twould injure me, were it thought otherwise.
Br.
And shall he have you then that knew you yesterday?
Is there in martyrdome no juster way?
But he that holds a finger in the fire
A little time, should have the Crowne from them
That have indur'd the flame with constancy?
Fran.
If the discovery will ease your thoughts
My Lord; know Almerin is as the man
I never saw.
[Bren.]
You doe not marry then?
Condemned men thus heare, and thus receive
Repreeves. One question more, and I am gone.
Is there to latitude of eternity
[Page 34] A hope for Brennoralt?
Fran.
My Lord?
Bren.
Have I a place at all,
When you doe thinke of men?
Fran.
My Lord, a high one,
I must be singular did I not value you:
The world does set great rates upon you,
And you have first deserv'd them.
Bren.
Is this all?
Fran.
All.
Bren.
Oh be lesse kinde, or kinder:
Give me more pity, or more cruelty, Francelia.
I cannot live with this, nor die—
Fran.
I feare my Lord,
You must not hope beyond it.
Bren.
Not hope? This, sure, is not the body to
(views him­selfe.
This soule; it was mistaken, shufled in
Through haste: Why (else) should that have so much love,
And this want lovelinesse, to make that love
Receiv'd?—I will raise honour to a point,
It never was—do things
(studies.
Of such a vertuous greatnesse she shall love me.
She shall— I will deserve her, though
I have her not: There's something yet in that.
Madam, wilt please you, pardon my offence?
—(Oh Fates!
That I must call thus my affection!)
Fran.
I will doe any thing, so you will thinke
Of me, and of your selfe (my Lord) and how
Your stay indangers both—
[Bren.]
Alas!
Your pardon is more necessary to
My life, then life to me: but I am gone.
Blessings, such as my wishes for you, in
Their extasies, could never reach, fall on you.
May ev'ry thing contribute to preserve
That exc'lence (my destruction) till't meet joyes
In love, great as the torments I have in't.
Exit.

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Enter Brennoralt.
Bren.
VVHy so, 'tis well, Fortune I thanke thee still,
I dare not call thee villaine neither.
'Twas plotted from the first,
That's certaine,—it looks that way?
Hum—caught in a trap?
Here's something yet to trust to—
(To his sword.
This was the entry, these the staires:
But whether afterwards?
He that is sure to perish on the land,
May quit the nicetie of Card and Compasse:
And safe, to his discretion▪ put to Sea:
He shall have my hand to't.
Exit.
Enter Raguelin, Orilla, (the waiting-woman.
Ra.
Looke:
By this light 'tis day.
Oril.
Not by this, by t' other 'tis indeed.
Ra.
Thou art such another peece of temptation.
My Lord raves by this time,
A hundred to one the Centinells
Will discover us too,
Then I doe pay for night-watch.
Oril.
Fie upon thee,
Thou art as fearfull as a young colt;
Boglest at every thing, foole.
As if Lovers had considered houres: I'le peep in—
(she peeps
Ra.
I am as weary of this wench,
As if I were married to her:
She hangs upon me like an Ape upon a horse—
She's as common too, as a Barbers glasse—
Conscienc't too like a Dy-dapper.
Orilla.
—there's no body within:
[Page 36] My Lady sleeps this houre at least.
Ra.
Good, the Divel's even with me—
Not be an honest man neither—
Enter Bren. & a guard.
What course now?
S.
Nay Sir, we shall order you now.
Bren.
Dogges.—
Enter Fresolin.
Fres.
What tumult's this—ha! Brennoralt! 'tis he
In spite of his disguise: what makes he here?
Hee's lost for ever if he be discover'd;
How now companions, why doe you use my friend thus?
S.
Your friend my Lord? if he be your friend
H'as us'd us as ill:
H' has plaid the Divell amongst us.
Six of our men are Surgeons worke this moneth;
We found him climbing the walls.
2 S.
He had no word neither,
Nor any language but a blow.
Fres.
You will be doing these wilde things (my Lord)
Good faith y' are too blame, if y' had desir'd
To view the walls, or Trenches, 't was but
Speaking; we are not nice:
I would my selfe have waited on you:
Th' are the new out-workes you would see perchance.
Boy, bring me blacke Tempest round about,
And the gray Barbary; a Trumpet come along too;
My Lord, wee'l take the neerer way,
And privater, here through the Sally-Port.
Bre.
What a Divell is this? sure I dreame—
Exeunt.
S.
Now, you are so officious.
(Manet Sold.
2 S.
Death! could I guesse he was a friend?
S.
'Twas ever to be thought,
How should he come there else?
2 S.
Friend or no friend, he might have left us
Something to pay the Surgeon with:
Grant me that, or Ile beat you to't.—
Exeunt.
Enter Fresolin, and Brennoralt.
Fres.
Brennoralt—start not:
I pay thee backe a life I owe thee;
[Page 37] And blesse my Starres, they gave me power to do't;
The debt lay heavy on me.
A horse waits you there—a Trumpet too,
(Which you may keep, least he should prate)
No Ceremony, 'tis dangerous.
Bren.
Thou hast astonish't me:
Thy youth hath triumph'd in one single act,
O're all the age can boast; and I will stay
To tell thee so, were they now firing all
Their Cannons on me; farewell gallant Fresolin:
And may reward, great as thy vertue, crowne thee.
Exeunt diverse wayes.
Enter Iphigene, Francelia.
Fran.
A peace will come,
And then you must be gone;
And whither when you once are got upon the wing,
You will not stoop to what shall rise,
Before ye flye to some lure
With more temptation garnisht, is a sad question.
Iph.
Can you have doubts, and I not my feares?
By this—the readiest and the sweetest oath, I sweare
I cannot so secure my selfe of you,
But in my absence I shall be in paine.
I have cast up what it will be to stand
The Governors anger; and which is more hard,
The love of Almerin.
I hold thee now but by thy owne free grant,
A slight securitie, alas it may fall out,
Giving thy selfe, not knowing thine owne worth,
Or want of mine, thou mayst, like Kings deceiv'd,
Resume the gift on better knowledge backe.
Fran.
If I so eas'ly change, I was not worth your love,
And by the losse you 'l gaine.
Iph.
But when y'are irrecoverably gone▪
'Twill be slight comfort to perswade my selfe
You had a fault, when all that fault must be
But want of love to me; and that agen
Finde in my much defect, so much excuse,
[Page 38] That it will have no worse name
Then discretion▪ if inconcern'd doe
Cast it up—I must have more assurance.
Franc.
You have too much already:
And sure my Lord you wonder, while I blush,
At such a growth in young affections.
Iphi▪
Why should I wonder (Madam.)
Love that from two breasts sucks,
Must of a child quickly become a Giant.
Dunces in love stay at the Alphabet,
Th' inspir'd know all before;—
Enter waiting woman.
And doe begin still higher.
Woman.
Madam;
Almerin, returned, has sent to kisse
Your hands. I told him you were busie.
Franc.
Must I my Lord be busy?
I may be civill though not kind.
Tell him I wait him in the Gallery.
Iphi.
May I not kisse your hand this night?
(Whisper)
Franc.
The world is full of jealous eyes my Lord:
And were they all lockt up; you are a spye
Once entred in my chamber at strange houres.
Iphi.
The vertue of Francelia is too safe,
To need those little arts of preservation.
Thus to divide our selves, is to distrust our selves.
A Cherubin dispatches not on earth
Th' affaires of heaven with greater innocence,
Then I will visit; 'tis but to take a leave,
I begg.
Franc.
When you are going my Lord—
Exeunt.
Enter Almerin, Morat.
Almer.
Pish. Thou liest, thou liest.
I know he playes with woman kind, not loves it.
Thou art impertinent—
Mor.
'Tis the campe talke my Lord though.
Al.
The camp's an asse, let me hear no more on't
Exeunt (Talking.)
[Page 39] Enter Granivert. Villanor. Marinel.
Grani.
And shall we have peace?
I am no sooner sober, but the State is so too:
If't be thy will, a truce for a month only.
I long to refresh my eyes; by this hand
They have been so tyr'd with looking upon faces
Of this country.
Villa.
And shall the Donazella
To whom we wish so well-a
Look Babies agen in our eyes-a?
Grani.
Ah—a sprightly girle above fifteen
That melts when a man but takes her by the hand!
Eyes full, and quick; with breath
Sweet as double violets,
And wholesome as dying leaves of Strawberries.
Thick silken eye-browes, high upon the fore-head;
And cheeks mingled with pale streaks of red,
Such as the blushing morning never wore.—
Villa.
Oh my chops; my chops;
Grani.
With narrow mouth, small teeth,
And lips swelling, as if she pouted—
Villa.
Hold, hold, hold;
Grani.
Haire curling, and cover'd, like buds of Marioram,
Part tyed in negligence
Part loosely flowing—
Marin.
Tyrant! tyrant! tyrant!
Grani.
In pinck colour taffata petticoate.
Lac't smock-sleeves dangling;
This vision stolne from her own bed
And rustling in ones chamber—
Villa.
Oh good Granivert, good Granivert.
Grani.
With a waxe candle in her hand,
Looking as if she had lost her way;
At twelve at night.
Marm.
Oh any hower, any hower.
Grani.
Now I thinke on't, by this hand
Ile marry, and be long liv'd.
Villa,
Long liv'd? how?
Grain.
[Page 40]
Oh, he that has a Wife, eats with an appetit [...],
'Has a very good stomacke to't first:
This living at large is very destructive,
Variety is like rare sawces; provokes too far,
And draws on surfets, more then th'other.
Enter Doran.
Dor.
So; is this a time to foole in?
G.
What's the matter?
Dor.
Draw out your choise men, and away to
Your Coronell immediately. There's worke
Towards my boyes, there's worke.
Grain,
Art in earnest?
Dor.
By this light.
Grain.
There's something in that yet.
This moiety Warre
Twilight,
Neither night nor day,
Pox upon it:
A storme is worth a thousand
Of your calme;
There's more variety in it.
Exeunt.
Enter Almerin, Francelia, as talking earnestly.
Alm.
Madam, that shewes the greatnes of my passion.
Fran.
The imperfection rather: Jealousie's
No better signe of love (my Lord) then feavers are
Of Life; they shew there is a Being, though
Impair'd, and perishing: and that, affection
But sicke and in disorder. I like 't not.
Your servant.—
Exit.
Al.
So short and sowre? the change is visible.
Enter Iphigene.
Iph.
Deare Almerin welcome, y' have been absent long.
Alm.
Not very long.
Iph.
To me it hath appeared so;
What sayes our Camp? am I not blamed there?
Alm.
They wonder—
Iph.
While we smile—
How have you found the King inclining?
Alm.
[Page 41]
Well.
The Treaty is not broken, nor holds it.
Things are where they were;
'T has a kind of face of peace,
You my Lord may when you please returne.
Iph.
I Almerin?
Alm.
Yes my Lord, I'le give you an escape.
Iph.
'Tis least in my desires.
Alm.
Hum!
Iph.
Such prisons are beyond all liberty.
Alm.
Is't possible?
Iph.
Seemes it strange to you?
Alm.
No, not at all.
What? you finde the Ladies kinde?
Iph.
Civill—
(smiles.
A.
You make love well too they say (my Lord.)
Iph.
Passe my time.
Alm.
Addresse unto Francelia?
Iph.
Visit her.
Al.
D' you know she is my Mistres, Pallatine?
Iph.
Ha?
Alm.
D' you know she is my Mistresse?
Iph.
I have been told so.
Alm.
And doe you court her then?
Iph.
Why?—
(smiles.
If I saw the enemy first,
Would you not charge?
Alm.
He doe's allow it too▪ by Heaven:
Laughs at me too; thou filcher of a heart,
False as thy title to Francelia.
Or as thy friendship: which with this I doe—
(drawes.
Throw by—draw.
Iph
What doe you meane?
Alm.
I see the cunning now of all thy love,
And why thou camest so tamely kinde,
Suffering surprise▪ Draw.
Iph.
I will not draw, kill me;
And I shall have no trouble in my death,
[Page 42] Knowing 'tis your pleasure:
As I shall ha ve no pleasure in my life
Knowing it is your trouble.
Alm.
Oh poor—I lookt for this.
I knew th' wouldst find 'twas easier to doe a wrong
Then justifie it—but—
Iphi.
I will not fight—heare me:
If I love you not more, then I love her;
If I doe love her more then for your sake;
Heaven strangely punish me.
Alm.
Take heed how thou dost play with heaven.
Iphi.
By all that's just, and faire, and good,
By all that you hold deare, and men hold great;
I never had lascivious thought, or ere
Did action that might call in doubt my love
To Almerin.
Alm.
That tongue can charme me into any thing;
I doe beleev't, prethee be wiser then.
Give me no further cause of jealousie,
Hurt not mine honour more, and I am well.
Iphi.
But well—Of all
Our passions, I wonder nature made
The worst, foule jealousie, her favorite.
And if it be not so, why took she care
That every thing should give the monster Nourishment,
And left us nothing to destroy it with?
Alm.
Prethee no more, thou plead'st so cunningly
I feare I shall be made the guilty
And need thy pardon.
Iphi.
If you could read my heart you would.
I will be gone to morrow if that will satisfie. Indeed
I shall not rest untill my innocence
Be made as plain as objects to the sence.
Alm.
—Come;
You shall not goe, Ile think upon't no more.
"Distrusts ruine not friendship,
"But build it fairer then it was before—
Exeunt.
[Page 43] Enter Brennoralt: Captaines, Stratheman: Doran.
Bren.
No more but ten from every company;
For many hands are theeves, and rob the glory,
While they take their share▪ how goes the night?
Stra.
Halfe spent my Lord.
We shall have straight,
The Moones weaker light.
Bren.
'Tis time then, call in the officers.
Friends, if you were men that must be talkt
Into a courage, I had not chosen you;
Danger with its vizard, oft before this time
Y'have look'd upon▪ and out-fac'd it too;
We are to doe the trick agen, that's all.
Here—(drawes his sword)
And yet we will not sweare:
For he that shrinks in such an action
Is damn'd without the help of perjury.
Doran; if from the virgin tow'r thou spiest
A flame, such as the East sends forth about
The time the day should break, goe tell the King
I hold the Castle for him; bid him come on
With all his force, and he shall find a victory
So cheap 'twill loose the value. If I fall,
The world has lost a thing it us'd not well;
And I, a thing I car'd not for; that world.
Stra.
Lead us on Coronell;
If we doe not fight like—
Bren.
No like.
Wee'l be our selves similitude
And time shall say, when it would tell
That men did well, they fought like us.

ACT. V. SCEN. I.

Enter Agen.
Bren.
WHat made the stop?
One in's falling sicknesse had a fit
[Page 44] Which choak'd the passage; but all is well:
Softly, we are neere the place.
Exeunt.
Alarum within, and fight, then enter Almerin (in his night-gowne.
Alm.
What noise is here to night?
Something on fire—what hoe,
Send to the Virgin-tower, there is disorder—
Thereabouts.
(Ent. Sould.
Sould.
All's lost, all's lost:
The enemie's upon the place of armes:
And is by this time Master of that,
And of the Tower.
Alm.
Thou liest.—
(strikes him.
Enter Mo [...]t.
Mor.
Save your selfe my Lord, and hast unto the camp;
Ruine gets in on every side.
Alm.
There's something in it when this fellow flies.
Villaines my armes, I'le see what Divell raignes.
Enter Iphigene, Francelia.
Iphi.
Looke, the day breakes.
Fran.
You thinke I'le be so kinde, as sweare
It does not now. Indeed I will not—
Iph.
Will you not send me neither,
Your picture when y' are gone?
That when my eye is famisht for a looke,
It may have where to feed,
And to the painted Feast invite my heart.
Fran.
Here, take this virgin-bracelet of my haire,
And if like other men thou shalt hereafter
Throw it with negligence,
'Mongst the Records of thy weake female conquests,
Laugh at the kinde words, and mysticall contrivement.
If such a time shall come,
Know I am sighing then thy absence Iphigene,
And weeping o're the false but pleasing Image.
Enter Almerin.
Alm.
Francelia, Francelia,
Rise, rise, and save thy selfe the enemy
[Page 45] That does not know thy worth, may else destroy it.
(throwes open the dore.
Ha! mine eyes grow sick.
A plague has, through them, stolne into my heart;
And I grow dizzie: feet, lead me off agen,
Without the knowledge of my body.
I shall act I know not what else—
Exit.
Franc.
How came he in?
Deare Iphigene we are betrayd;
Lets raise the Castle lest he should return.
Iph.
That were to make all publique.
Feare not▪ Ile satisfie his anger:
I can doe it.
Franc.
Yes, with some quarrell;
And bring my honour, and my love in danger—
Enter Almerin
Look he returns, and wrecks of fury,
Like hurried clouds over the face of heaven,
Before a tempest, in his looks appeares.
Alm.
If they would question what our Rage doth act
And make it sin, they would not thus provoke men.
— I am too tame.
For if they live I shall be pointed at,
Here I denounce a warre to all the world,
And thus begin it— (runs at Iphigene)
Iphi.
What hast thou done— (falls)
Franc.
Ah me, help, help.—
(wounds Francelia)
Iphi.
Hold.
Alm.
'Tis too late.
Iphi.
Rather then she shall suffer,
My fond deceits involve the innocent;
I will discover all.
Alm.
Ha!—what will he discover?
Iphi.
That which shall make thee curse
The blindnesse of thy rage.—
I am a woman.
Alm.
Ha, ha, ha, brave and bold!
Because thy perjury deceived me once,
And saved thy life, thou thinkest to escape agen.
Impostor, thus thou shalt.—
(runs at him.
Iphi.
[Page 46]
Oh hold— I have enough.
Had I hope of life, thou shouldst not have this secret.
Franc.
What will it be now?
Iphi.
—My father having long desir'd
A sonne to heire his great possessions.
And in six births successively deceiv'd,
Made a rash vow; oh how rash vowes are punished!
That if the burthen then my mother went with
Prov'd not a male, he ne're would know her more.
Then was unhappy Iphigene brought forth,
And by the womens kindnesse nam'd a boy;
And since so bred: (a cruell pity as
It hath faln out.) If now thou findst that, which
Thou thoughtst a friendship in me, Love; forget it.
It was my joy,—and—death.—
(faints.
Alm.
—For curiosity
Ile save thee, if I can, and know the end
If't be but losse of Blood,—Breasts!
By all that's good a woman!— Iphigene.
Iphi.
I thank thee, for I was falne asleep, before
I had dispatcht. Sweetest of all thy sexe,
Francelia, forgive me now; my love
Vnto this man, and feare to loose him, taught me,
A fatall cunning, made me court you,—and
My owne Destruction.
[Franc.]
I am amaz'd.
Alm.
And can it be? Oh mockery of heaven!
To let me see what my soule often wisht
And mak't my punishment, a punishment,
That were I old in sinnes, were yet too great.
Iphi.
Would you have lov'd me then? Pray say you would:
For I like testie sickmen at their death,
Would know no newes but health from the Physitian.
Alm.
Canst thou doubt that?
That hast so often seen me extas [...]'d,
When thou wert drest like woman
Vnwilling ever to beleeve thee man?
Iph.
I have enough.
Alm.
Heavens!
[Page 47] What thing shall I appeare unto the world!
Here might my ignorance find some excuse.
—But, there,
I was distracted. None but one enrag'd
With anger to a savadgenesse, would ere
Have drawne a sword upon such gentle sweetnesse.
Be kind, and kill me; kill me one of you:
Kill me if 't be but to preserve my wits.
Deare Iphigene, take thy revenge, it will
Not misbecome thy sexe at all; for 'tis
An act of pity not of cruelty:
Thus to dispatch a miserable man.
Franc.
And thou wouldst be more miserable yet,
While like a Bird made prisoner by it selfe,
Thou bat'st and beat'st thy self 'gainst every thing,
And dost passe by, that which should let thee out.
Alm.
—Is it my fault?
Or heav'ns? Fortune, when she would play upon me,
Like ill Musitians, wound me up so high,
That I must crack sooner then move in tune.
Franc.
Still you rave,
While we for want of present help may perish.
Alm.
Right.
A Surgeon, Ile goe find one instantly.
The enemy too—I had forgot—
Oh what fatality govern'd this night.
Exit.
Franc.
How like an unthrifts case will mine be now?
For all the wealth he looses shifts but 's place;
And still the world enjoyes it: so will't you,
Sweet Iphigene, though I possesse you not.
Iphi.
What excellence of Nature's this! have you
So perfectly forgiv'n already, as to
Consider me a losse? I doubt which Sexe
I shall be happier in. Climates of Friendship
Are not lesse pleasant, 'cause they are lesse scortching,
Then those of Love; and under them wee'l live:
Such pretious links of that wee'l tye our souls
Together with, that the chaines of the other.
[Page 48] Shall be grosse fetters to it.
[Franc.]
But I feare
I cannot stay the making. Oh would you
Had never un-deceiv'd me, for I'had dy'd with
Pleasure, beleeving I had been your Martyr.
Now—
Iphi.
Shee looks pale. Francelia—
Franc.
— I cannot stay;
A hasty summons hurries me away:
And—gives—no—
(dies)
Iphi.
—Shee's gone:
Shee's gone. Life like a Dials hand hath stolne
A [...]oyse within. Enter souldiers. Shee thinke [...] them Almer.
From the faire figure e're it was perceiv'd.
What will become of me?—Too late, too late
Y' are come: you may perswade wild birds, that wing
The aire, into a Cage, as soon as call
Her wandring spirits back.—ha!
Those are strange faces; there's a horrour in them:
And if I stay, I shall be taken for
The murtherer. O in what streights they move
That wander 'twixt death, feares and hopes of love.
Exit.
Enter Brennoralt. Granivert. Souldiers.
Bren.
Forbeare, upon your lives, the place:
There dwels divinity within it▪ All else
The Castle holds, is lawfull prize;
Your valours wages. This I claime as mine,
Guard you the door—
Grani.
Coronell shall you use all the women your selfe?
Bren.
Away—'tis unseasonable—
(drawes the curtain)
Awake fair Saint and blesse thy poore Idolator
Ha!—pale?—and cold?—dead.
The sweetest guest fled, murdered by heaven;
The purple streams not drye yet.
Some villaine has broke in before me,
Rob'd all my hopes; but I will find him out,
And kick his soule to hell—Ile doe 't—
dragging out Iphigene.
Speak.
Iphi.
What should I say?
Bren.
Speak or by all—
Iph.
[Page 49]
Alas, I doe confesse my selfe the unfortunate cause.
Bren.
Oh d' you so?
Hadst thou been cause of all the plagues
That vexe mankinde, th' adst been an Innocent
To what thou art; thou shalt not think repentance.
(kils her.
Iph.
Oh, thou wert too suddaine.
And—
(dies.
Bren.
Was I so?
The lustfull youth would sure have spoil'd her honour;
Which finding highly garded, rage, and feare
To be reveal'd, counsell'd this villany.
Is there no more of them?
Exit.
Enter Almerin.
Alm.
Not enter?
Yes dogge, through thee—ha! a course laid out
In stead of Iphigene: Francelia dead too?—
(Enter Bren.
Where shall I begin to curse?
Bren.
Here—If he were thy friend.
Alm.
Brennoralt;
A gallant sword could ne're have come
In better time.
Bren.
I have a good one for thee,
If that will serve the turne.
Alm.
I long to trie it,
That sight doth make me desperate;
Sicke of my selfe and the world.
Bren.
Didst value him?
A greater villaine did I never kill.
Alm.
Kill?
Bren.
Yes.
Alm.
Art sure of it?
Bren.
May be I doe not wake.
Alm.
Th' ast taken then a guilt off from me,
Would have waigh'd downe my sword,
Weakned me to low resistance.
I should have made no sports, hadst thou conceal'd it.
Know Brennoralt thy sword is stain'd in excellence,
Great as the world could boast.—
Bren.
[Page 50]
Ha—ha—how thou art abus'd?
Looke there, there lies the excellence
Thou speak'st of▪ murdred; by him too;
He did confesse he was the cause.
Alm.
Oh Innocence, ill understood, and much worse us'd!
She was alas by accident, but I,
I was the cause indeed
Bre.
I will beleeve thee too, and kill thee—
Destroy all causes till I make a stop
In nature; for to what purpose should she
Worke agen?
Alm.
Bravely then,
The title of a Kingdome is a trifle
To our quarrell Sir; know by sad mistake
I kill'd thy Mistres Brennoralt,
And thou kild'st mine.
Bren.
Thine?
Alm.
Yes, that Iphigene
Though showne as man unto the world,
Was woman, excellent woman—
Bren.
I understand no riddles guard thee.—
Fight and pause.
Alm.
O could they now looke downe,
And see how wee two strive
Which first should give revenge,
They would forgive us something of the crime.
Hold prethee give me leave
To satisfie a curiosity—
I never kissed my Iphigene as woman.
Bren.
Thou motion'st well, nor have I taken leave
(Rising.
It keeps a sweetnesse yet—
As stills from Roses, when the flowers are gone.
Alm.
Even so have two faint Pilgrims scorch't with heat
Vnto some neighbour fountaine stept aside
Kneel'd first, then laid their warm lips to the Nymph
And from her coldnesse took fresh life againe
As we doe now—
Bren.
Lets on our journy if thou art refresht.
Alm.
Come and if there be a place reserved
[Page 51] For heightned spirits better then other,
May that which wearies first of ours have it.
Fight a­good while Alm. fals.
Bren.
If I grow weary, laugh at me, that's all▪
Alm.
—Brave soules above which will
Be (sure) inquisitive for newes from earth
Shall get no other but that thou art Brave.
Enter King: Stratheman: Lords: Minse.
Stra.
To preserve some Ladies as we guest.
King.
Still gallant, Brennoralt, thy sword not sheath'd yet?
Busie still?—
Bren.
Revenging Sir
The fowlest murder ever blasted eares
Committed here by Almerin and Iphigene.
Alm.
False, false; The first created purity
Was not more innocent then Iphigene.
Bren.
Lives he agen?
Alm.
Stay thou much wearied guest
Till I have thrown a truth amongst them—
We shall look back else to posterity.
King.
What sayes he?
Lord.
Some thing concerning this he labours to
Discover.
Alm.
Know it was I that kild Francelia?
I alone—
Mins.
O barbarous return of my civilities
Was it thy hand?
Alm.
Heare and forgive me Minse
Entring this morning hastily
With resolution to preserve
The faire Francelia. I found a theefe
Stealing the treasure (as I thought)
Belongd to me. Wild in my mind
As ruin'd in my honour, in much mistaken rage
I wounded both: then (oh) too late I found
My errour. Found Iphigene a woman
Acting stolne love, to make her own love safe
And all my jealousies impossible
Whilst I ran out to bring them cure;
[Page 52] Francelia dies; and Iphigene found here
I can no more—
(dies)
King.
Most strange and intricate.
Iphigene a woman?
Mel.
With this story I am guiltily acquainted
The first concealments, since her love
And all the wayes to it I have bin trusted with:
But Sir my greife joyn'd with the instant busines
Begges a deferrement.
King.
I am amaz'd till I doe heare it out.
—But ith' mean time,
Least in these mists merit should loose it selfe,
—Those forfeitures
Of Trock and Menseck and Brennoralt are thine.
Bren.
A Princely guilt! But Sir it comes too late.
Like Sun-beames on the blasted blossomes, doe
Your favours fall: you should have giv'n me this
When't might have rais'd me in mens thoughts, and made
Me equall to Francelia's love: I have
No end, since shee is not—
Back, to my private life I will returne.
"Cattell, though weary, can trudge homewards, after.
King.
This melancholy, time must cure: Come take
The bodies up, and lead the prisoners on,
Triumph and funerals must walke together,
Cipresse and Laurell twin'd make up one chaplet.
—For we have got
The day; but bought it at so deare a rate,
That victory it selfe's unfortunate.
Exeunt.
FINIS.

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