I Wonder much Sinatus that no messenger comes from th' Armie, and it so neere; tis a great oversight in the present Ge­nerall t' bee so slow in giving intelli­gence, I was not wont t' doe so.

Tis true indeed Adrastus, for some of your Souldiers was alwaies running homeward; either for feare or want of pay.

Was that my fault, which feare in them, or necessity in­forc?? I had do mony sent when 'twas due.

I thinke ye were indeed a month behind, but was not the Enemies Country open, scarce a troope of horse [Page] drawne into the field, but few of foote, and cou'd ye thinke of pay from home? so thinke and gape after it, as in the expectation t' lose your opportunity: lie still, nay, suffer the enemie t'draw t'gether, and lodge be­twixt you and this City; even t'th' danger of th' Prin­ces person, and then steale hither t'complain your men forsooke yee.

Did they not rise all in a mutinie? what cou'd I doe?

Nay, you did well t' come, th' Gods bee ever prays'd for't, too long yee were a comming, for ye came about the safer way; but th' present Generall which your wisedome now finds fault with for slow intelligencer, necessity inforcing it, broke thorow that armie you a­voyded, with a single troope, and with th' fiery bravery of his spirit soone thawd the ycie feares, that you their former Generall had frose about our souldiers hearts.

Me Lord, ye have a priviledge to speake, yee know th' quall of your tongue, it wounds no man.

Tho your Lordship hath exprest so little man in the discharge of your great employment, that you are safe where men are onely wounded, is't in th' nature of a [...]are, or fearefull Deare, a man may draw blood of your Honour.

You quickly shud repent this snarling Sinatus, did I thinke this a fit time for private brauls.

He that shud not repent of his sinnes till you found a fit time to fight, were in an ill case for certaine.

Royall Sir, your Enemies have tryed the force of your just Arms, and if not flye, retreat: your presence cannot but bring an entire Victorie, the honour of which is laid downe at your Royall feet by your servant and scholler in armes.

Arviragus.

From me, Sir, were these glories ravish'd, in granting him the honour t'be your Generall against th' Danes, sure Arviragus in your sonne, and I some stranger to your blood; o [...] so degenerate, that you beleeve I want courage, or judgment, t' reach, or execute your great de­signes, as well as he; for t'beleeve his vertue of it selfe cood act such wonders, were t' forget your Glories won before he had a name, or interest in th' warre to my disgrace.

My sonne, be better temper'd, and yeeld as I did t'ne­cessitie; what wise, or loving father wood have sent his onely sonne into an Armie filld with discontent, and mutinie, where thou wert liker t'become a sacrifice to please their high swolne rage, than find obedience, without which, there's no usuall way t'glory? that Ar­mie moves t'its owne Funerall, that charges th'enemie with hearts divided.

Sir, can ye thinke my presence h [...]d not an equall pow­er amongst your naturall Subjects, t'settle what was out of order? small is t' comfort I shall find hereafter t'be their King, if heaven shall call you first, yet Arviragus, a stranger, hath a precedence in their loves.

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Not in their loves, my sonne, I thinke not so, but in th'opinion of his fortune; Victory still attending his most rash, and heady actions: five severall Battels hee hath won against our enemies, all ods of men or place unthought of, in his owne person acting wonders, as they call them; but I thinking t'let th'armie see t'was their joynt valour, number of men, and ancient disci­pline, gaind frequent victories, and not their Gene­ralls valour, in stead of Arviragus, sent as yee know, Adrastus.

And all Sir, as you order'd it, turn'd t'his greater glo­ry: but I shall never looke on him, but as a Basiliske, that killing quality; wee must divide betwixt us, wee cannot both breathe in one aire, his glories poyson me to death.

My son, in thy desires, as well as blood, till this ex­pression of thy thoughts thou wert not halfe so deare; I was afeard th'outward friendships twixt you and Ar­viragus had beene made reall by your bringing up toge­ther, but now confirm'd in the opinion, and joying in thy just hatred to one so prejudiciall t' thy greatnesse: know, from thy carefull father, this Monster Giant Ar­viragus, that dwarfs our glories by his fatall growth, this sonne of honour, so they call him, no longer shall eclips thy splendour, but set in blood and ruine, and on his Tombe th'amased world shall read an Epitaph of foule ingratitude and treason.

As how? th' meanes t' this?

Let it suffice t' know it when it is done, and reape th' proffit; the trouble and the danger both be mine.

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Th' newes?

Our Generall, Prince Arviragus returnes victorious, Th' Danes are fled back to there strengths by his sole valour overcome.

Eugenius wee beleeve thy valour and good conduct was equally availeable for us in this defeat, and one day thou mayst know how much wee pryse thee: Adrastus waite us in our private Chamber.

I shall Sir.

Sinatus here's a glorious victorie attaind, and with small losse, Arviragus does so great service t'th' state, that no reward can equall.

Yer, Sir, there's a reward will equall his deserts, and well become your intercession, and your fathers royall bountie, I meane his fathers principality; I am a wit­nesse 'twas promis'd if he returnd victorious.

Promises made upon necessitie can binde no wise man t'performance. Besides, he from my fathers mercy had his being, all he can performe is duty, and cannot claime a recompence.

Yet promises of Princes (earthly Gods) like those a­bove, shood be performd for their owne truth and glory though not for our desert.

But Sinatus if they please to forget a Promise, I shood not thinke him wise wood-force them to remember it.

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Force ill becomes a subject, but humble truth shud not offend.

But if th' sense be proud and haughtie, 'tis not th'hum­ble sound of words that can excuse it: for know Sinatus t' thee I speake it that art a friend t' Arviragus, it will be dangerous for him but once t'thinke on that rash promise made by my father; there must not bee another Prince of Pictland that my selfe, if I be worthy to bee my fathers heire.

There's none Sir, will dispute it.

None dares.

Not I, Sir: your pardon, if my freedome have offended in what I thought touch'd yours, and your royall fathers honor.

Can any thing more prejudice our honor, than demi­nution of our power?

No power is strong or firme, that hath not Justice for its base, unlesse th' gods cou'd cease to be.

One of their greatest attributes is power, and they de­light t'see it exercis'd on earth, nor will I faile my part, if e're I come t' act their stroake of justice: why shud it light on me more then my father, who for pro­sperity in all his actions, is yet the wonder of the World?

May a remaine such, and you succeed unto his hap­pinesse; it is, and shall bee still my prayer: but Sir, my feares, if you doe things unjust, will not for­sake me.

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Rather thy wish, than feare Sinatus; hee that's a friend t' Arviragus, I pronounce my enemie, if hee imbrace a thought of his fathers Principallity; if not, I am his friend, as formerly, ready to grant him any other honor: this if you tell him, ye shall not displease me.

O Arviragus, I foresee thy danger growing equall with thy glories: 'tis strange that envie should bee the child of Vertue, that or felicitie is still one parent: but did a noble emulation fire this Princes blood, what brave effects, happy unto this state, wud follow? where on the contrary, blood, and destruction will have, I feare, a mighty triumph: for Arviragus cannot but know his in­juries, and his owne power t'right 'em, having entire possession of the souldiers hearts.

Thus Adrastus, thou seest a way to my security, and thy revenge, and that thou mayst be more confirm'd, I here pronounce him Traitour to me and to th'State, to quit thee from the guilt; only strike sure, I meane make thy choise wisely, apt both thy instruments, and time for them t'act in.

Sir, feare not me, onely beleeve I not forget, tho the performance prove not sudden; you know his strength and courage; besides your wise advertisement injoynes me to be wary.

I commit the affaire wholly t'thy discretion, honest A­drastus.

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Your Majestie much honours mee, above my merit.

Ile sweare I doe, for thou art a base coward, slave, and he that is so, can have nor faith, nor honestie: yet fit­test for the imployment I have given thee, as one that hath already hatred 'gainst Arviragus from th'disgrace his last atchievements stick upon thee, and th' anti­pathy betwixt their natures, both which will helpe t'free mee from suspition; but I must adde another strength t'these. Who waits? I gave command Sinatus should be sent for, is a yet come?

He waits without, Sir.

Call him in.

Sinatus, let mee with thee rejoyce thou good old man, thy foster child, and my apt scholler, th'happie and ob­lieging Arviragus is with his victorious army close by the walls, leading in triumph th Danish Generall. I long till I inclose within these aged armes, that miracle of men, and make him great, as hee is good and glorious.

O Sir, how like your Royall selfe these words expresse you, Heavens, let these teares of joy, draw downe a blessing on this gracious Prince, you powers, how will the perfect vision of your goodnesse ravish us, when these your substitutes by actions, just and noble, beget such joyes both t' themselves and us!

Rise, how wood th'act perform'd transport this honest foole, that is thus ravish'd with the proposition? [Page] Sinatus to thy care I here commit th' charge of his just triumph in entring the Citie, let there not want a cir­cumstance that may expresse his welcome, and our joy to see him.

But Sir, I feare the Prince.

O doubt him not, tis we are King.

See all prepard.

The glory Arviragus shall receive, will more encrease the Princes hate against him, if it be reall; tis possible it may not be so, he might dissemble to sift my thoughts, and if a love him, as hee in younger yeares hath seem'd do all with an intent to save him from my anger. When Arviragus was a child, to flatter with the Lords of Pict­land, he had his bringing up with my owne sonne and daughter, amongst them, there seem'd to bee so strict an amitie, that it displeased me not a little; a broake that friendship not by force, but policy and might, think­ing to over-reach them, cosen my selfe and they love yet each other; but sure my feares are vaine, Guimantes can not so much degenerate from me his father, to love him that supplants, and renders him contemptible to all my subjects,

My best Guiderius, this letter from th' Princesse which thou hast brought mee, containes within such various matter of joy and sorrow, I cannot but communicate [Page] it with thee, whose love and friendship hath been so use­full to me; there thou shalt find assurance of a love so great and noble, that I must blush t'think I have done so little to deserve it; but then againe she gives me no­tice of so unjust a hatred in her brother, that it begets my sorrow and amasement.

It cannot be the Prince Guimanthes shud so reward your service done to him, as well as to his father.

Beleeve, as thou wou'dst doe th'sentence of an Oracle: comes it not from th'Princesse? the time fits not, at night I'le read it to thee. Goe now and bid Eugenius thy no­ble father advance the Troopes, and march in order with their prisoners, wee are close upon the Ports.

I shall Sir.

So great a growth of vertue, and discretion in one so young shewes well whose son thou art; whether Euge­nius hath more engaged me by his acts in warre, or this his sonne aiding me in my love, is yet a doubt. Pardon me love, that I doe not give sentence on thy side; wars glories does immediatly attend, but Hymens torches are not lighting yet.

Arviragus received by the King, crownd by the Princesse with a Garland, and so led off betwixt them.

O my vext soule, must I endure this? can the joy of [...]revenge when acted, make satisfaction? cou'd my just hatred, by spell, or incantation corrupt that wreath my officious sister crown'd him with, give it a poisonous qualitie, and kill him e're to morrowes Sunne; yet were a still for me a proper marke of envy: what man is there can hope to bee immottall here? a glorious death then is th'highest wee can aime at; and that I feare, neither my fathers cunning, nor my hatred can deny this happie Arviragus. Th' tribute of th' peoples loves seald to him as his due, by th' permission of this triumph is not by any act of grace or policie to bee re­covered, but they will pay it, tho he were extinct unto his memory: his fame's now raisd above the reach of calumnie; my fathers boasted weapon for Arviragus ruin, such tedious remedies ill fit th' desperatnesse of my disease, my honour's wounded to th'death.

'Tis neere upon the time Guiderius, I would not have the Princesse come downe into th' Garden before us, it were as if a Deity shud wait the lea­sure of a mortall.

My deare Lord and Cosen, you that are lovers are [Page] to familiar with the gods, and by that frequent simi­lies touching on them, sully there exellence.

Not if we by th' beauty and perfections of th' Creature rayse up our thoughts to that more excellent from whence they have their being: but Sir I finde your cunning in taxing lovers, you wo'd remoove from me that jelousie you gave me by your last nights dream, When you so oft made mention of th' Princesse, and with such passion that if I were not very confident of her affection, I sho'd no longer trust you to visit her, least you supplanted me.

I must confesse me Lord th' Prneesse Letter that you shewed me had in it such lively heat, such charming sweetnes, that since that time I have done nought but thinke on her and you, and that it seemes made me talke in my sleepe.

I doe beleeve it, for I know my joyes must needs bee thine.

Or else I must not be my selfe, you are to me all that the gods can give man kinde to blesse him with on earth.

Which love when I forget my dearest Cosen, may these powers cease to take protection of me, a wretch become ungratefull to th' best of friends.

What men are these? they doe not watch us sure, how ever lets not enter now, but seeme as if we went away from th' garden dore.

Lets not loose this oppertunity, Adrastus will make us rich for ever.

Doe not dischargethe your Pistoll till you be close upon him, night shelters us.

Villain and traitour—

O I am justly punisht—

My deare Guiderius, speake where art thou?

Not hurt, nor you I hope.

A scratch sir, with th' villains sword before he fled.

Where is your hurt?

T'is not worth speaking of, upon my hand, no more nor if I had cut my finger. But I beleeve to have staind my mayd'n sword in his best blood, I felt it pearce him.

This accident comes most unhappily to crosse my meet­ing with th'Princesse, nor can I be assurd th'cause of this bloody attempt, whether by accidence, or from designe.

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The Prince Guimantes cannot sure have a hand in this.

How Sir, will you neglect to meet th'Princesse?

I wud not, but your hurt?

My hurt? wound mee no deeper by being a sharer of your discontent, in missing so great joyes as you expect.

I faine wud see you at my chamber drest.

If I were in love I shud not be thus civill to a friend, and so uncivill to a Mistris; th'Princesse cannot but [...]xpect you, pray let us goe.

You shall not deare Guiderius, pray leave me.

My heart misgives that some mis-fortune may fall out, pray let me wait upon you, my wound is nothing.

Leave me, or ye will make me jealous that ye are in love with Philicia, and for her sake, not mine, wud beare me company.

This jesting to mee shall serve for earnest, since 'tis a full assurance you wo'not have me go, farewell.

I shall not long be from you, keepe close this accident that chanc't, and so we may discover something that we know not.

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I shall obey, th'Gods protect you.

Faint hearted Philicia, how canst thou be so timorous? cannot th'thought of meeting him ('twixt whom and feare there's an antipathie) beget more confidence? if I, as he hath often swore, possesse the valiant heart of Arviragus, cou'd I thus tremble? a pistoll shot, but not at me; clashing of swords, yet I was safe; not, if my Arviragus were an actor, for then my heart may bleed in him; that, that begets my feare: 'twas neere the Garden wall, at our appointed time; some minutes now are past, yet he's not come; from which sad cir­cumstance I wish my reason did not force mee draw a likelyhood of such misfortune, that proving true, I shall no longer wish to have a being.

Oh, oh.

Ye powers, save me from a dispaire, in which if I thus die, I shall blaspheme your justice, informe my doubt­full soule readie to take her flight, whose dying groanes these be: if it bee not my lovers, whisper it gently and restore my sense; but if those killing accents came from Arviragus, speak then in thunder, and confound me and my sense for ever,

Oh—oh—helpe—helpe—

Ah mee, what shall I doe to ease my tortur'd soule! doubt is a greater mischiefe than dispaire whilst it [Page] hath being; Love be my guide, that I may be resolved, but how? the key which I shood open this doore with, I sent by young Guiderius for Arviragus passage, there being none but that and my fathers for this Garden.

Stay, flatter me not t'fast my joyes, sure th'doore opens, be true this once my senses; and let it be my love, and tho you oft hereafter shall deceive me.

I forgive yee.

Madam?

O speake againe, that I may be assured.

Were you so soone come downe?

Ha! so soone, why, did you heare it?

Yes, Madam, I did.

But were not there, I hope?

Not in th' bullets way, I thanke th'Gods, but doe not spend this happy opportunity that takes addition from th'danger past, in questioning my safetie, since you see me here; where I must first upon my knee kisse this [Page] faire hand, that placed upon my head a wreath trium­phant, th' vertue doubled from your touch, and what the gazing multitude did not permit to my discretion, th'placing it where it was onely due, yet here my soules devotion by my tongue proclaimes th' faire Philicia Conquerour of him whom she did crowne, in which sub­mission, if she be but pleased, shee againe crownes her servant with happinesse above all earthly Monarchs.

My dearest servant, that I meet you thus alone, gives you assurance of my love, and confidence of your cleere vertue, more than a thousand oaths, twixt you and mee. Th'Ceremoniall part of love is long since past, we loved so much when wee were children, before wee knew in words how to expresse a passion, that now after so many degrees, to serve our selves with language, or professi­ons, were justly to beget a doubt wee did not love, at least not as we ought, or else were ignorant of one ano­thers passions; which were a crime I hope we never shall be guiltie of.

Yet since, my dearest Mistris, nothing thats mortall but may receive additions in perfection, tis fit that we ex­presse a sense of their encrease: Wer't but in thankful­nesse unto th' Gods, much more when those excelling graces by a particular application are made my bles­sings, shood I expresse a joy, nay rapture, when I look on my owne wants of merit, made capable of such a bles­sing only from my truth of love.

O doe not arrogate, my dearest Arviragus, unto your selfe, that which most properly belongs unto our Sex to love the best, for so you call in question th'excellencie of the subject, from whence the passion springs, and that (man) is th' no [...]lest creature, the Gods and Nature long since have determin'd.

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What long since was determin'd, binds not the pre­sent, since there is nothing permanent on earth; but grant this priviledg to such who pleaded it, and by that call in question their proper merit: no generall rule but does admit of an exception, for tho you were not in the opinion of the world, as indeed you are excellent above mankind, yet may you be to me all that my fan­cie can propose, and I shud love ye at that rate.

It seemes then that a transcendencie in love arise not so much from th'object that begets it, as from the ap­ted puritie of that soule, and fancy where it is nourishd: if so, then certainly women love more than men, their fancie being equall, and th'disturbance of that fancie lesse, (in my particular at least undoubted) for whilest my dearest Arviragus thought often of affaires of State and stratagems in Warre; I never had a thought but now to yeeld him mine, and conquer his most noble heart.

In which you have confer'd so great a blessing on your servant, that I shall not prophane th' powers, to say they cannot equall, nor add more than a confirmation: how shall I then confesse your merit lesse than mine, your power so great?

'Tis not my power deare servant, but your acceptation makes it so great a blessing.

'Twill be presumption to confesse this, yet it will with­all approve the height of my affection, which we dispu­ted of.

'Twill approve it such as I doe glorie in, for you have spoke my thoughts as well as yours.

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[...]ince then we have one soule; why shud our bodies lon­ [...]er be at distance?

They shud not if I had my fathers power, what I can give is yours.

This faire soft hand, on which I take the boldnesse to print a zealous kisse, is yet denied me; so, as I dare [...]carce presume to aske it, least it shud shew too much [...]elfe love.

Ah me! I feare we are betraied, there's some with lights come from my chamber, sure 'tis my father; what will he thinke?

Think that you love me, dearest Mistris, and not be an­grie I must hope.

But, deare servant, if it be possible, avoid his sight, as yet things are not ripe for a discovery; my brother may be there too: and what mischiefe his hatred may beget, I tremble but to think on: your passage is free to th'dore: I'le meet them.

Crosse Fate!

What daughter, doe ye use to walk so late? or is this ac­cident? alone too; none of your maids worthie to keep you company.

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Sometimes there's none but wish to be alone, and this place, tho it be night, (you know Sir) is secure as my owne chamber.

Maids, they say, shud never bee alone, but when they pray.

I sha'not lye Sir, to say I prayed since I came downe in­to this Garden, and doe so now, my love may not bee knowne.

Keepe some distance from us, wee'l walk a turne.

O, I feare.

Thou knowest how dearly I have loved thee, and doe professe my care of thee is such, that I doe wish I cou'd bestow on thee a Kingdome for thy dowrie, tho with the hazard of my life I purchast it: in recompence of all my care that's past, and expectation of my future kind­nesse; nay, as thou dost expect my blessing, and fearest my curse, answer directly to what I shall aske thee.

O I am ruin'd.

Why doest thou looke so pale, and shake so?

To heare you muster up these fearefull conjurations, yet know not to what they possibilie may tend.

Why doest thou tremble so? bee more assur'd, I am thy father; no enemy that comes to circumvent thee, this unaccustomed feare makes me beleeve thou hast some guilt, thou wudst not have me know: but Ile not take th' more: Love.

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Ha?

Love, and hate is that I come to question with thee of.

With me? who shud I hate or love more than my du­tie binds me?

'Tis of thy brothers love to Arviragus, his former love I meane, or present hate; whether thou thinkst it only seeming, or beleevest it Reall; I know thy brothers soule is open to thee, and free, to me he's disguised: th' thought of this makes me conjure thee thus, that I may be assured, for from that knowledge will arise my safety and th' States, therefore upon my blessing speake truly thy thoughts.

Then Sir, I dare confidently affirme my brother hates Arviragus more than he ever loved him; but with what Justice I leave it to your Majestie, the ground of his dis­like not being possibly other than th'great service hee hath done for you and him.

'Twas his ambition daughter, not affection made him so forward in our cause, e're long his Treasons will ap­peare.

What Treasons? I shall betray my selfe by passion.

Such as I did not thinke his youth, which was so full of goodnesse, cou'd ever have been poison'd with; you shall know more hereafter.

I know to much already.

In this assurance you have oblieg'd your father, daugh­ter [Page] goe to your rest, I will to mine, and this is my nee­rest way to my chamber.

Stay Sir, here, not far from th'Garden dore, lies one dead, or asleep.

Let's see, bring him hither, call for more lights: this man is murthered, the wounds bleed fresh.

Tis he.

Strange, is not our Palace free from slaughter? who durst doe this?

Another, Sir, that we found dead hard by, and if I bee not mistaken, this was Adrastus servant.

Ha, my servant? 'tis he unhappy wretch, it seems they quareld in drinke, or other waies, and so killd one th' other.

'Tis possible so, but not very likely, dispose their bo­dies, to morrow we'l examin better; had one of these been Arviragus, th' heavens had smil'd upon us, none cou'd have guest who did it, and wee had beene se­cure.

Give me leave to wait upon you to your private cham­ber, there you shall know, who in all likelihood did murther these.

'Tis impossible you shud.

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You will not thinke so, when you know these very men I did appoint to dispatch Arviragu [...].

Ha, these men?

Yes, Sir.

Were such slaves fit to be trusted, that wud attempt, and faile?

You see they have seal'd the intention with their blood, tho fortune favoured not.

Doe thou so too, effect what thou hast undertaken, and that with speed, or by th'Gods thou art like these.

Sinatus, I have so many obligations to you, that I dis­paire of payment now; especially since you perswade me to forget that I was the King of Pictland's son, which Kingdome by your Master is usurpt; and tho I have with hourely hazard of my life, preserved his Crowne upon his head, I must not dare to urge th' promise which he so solemnly did make before th' Gods and men, to seat me on my fathers throne, if I return'd vi­ctorious.

My dearest Lord, this is the summe of my advice; which if you shall neglect, I feare most sad effects [Page] effects will follow, and so I leave you, least being ob­serv'd, I suffer for my too much love.

Farewell kind foster-father.

May th'Gods looke on you, and your Actions with a favourable aspect.

Cozen Eugenius, whats your advise? shall I not claime my double right of inheritance, and promise.

Not whilest you are within th' tyrants reach, flye to th' army which is not yet disbanded, and then yee have power to make your owne conditions, they will receive you for their captaine, and move whither or how you please.

'Tis true Eugenius, I doe beleeve they wud, but 'twere neither just, nor noble for mee to bee th' head to so re­bellious a bodie: perswade those Souldiers, who un­der my command by frequent victories are become fa­mous, to lose all they have won, by one infamous act; what tho a be to me a tyrant, hee is yet their lawfull Prince, nor ought they to be Judges of his actions; nor my deare Cosen, if the gods be pleas'd that justice shall take place, numbers are not considerable: some of the Picts, altho the most be slaved under the Saxon yoake, doe yet retaine minds worthy their Ancesters, and dare, to serve their Prince, dye full of wounds, rather than yeares: five hundred thus resolved, drawn but together to begin th'play, wud make th' tyrant, e're a yeare come round, find perjurie, and injustice lye heavie on his soule.

Sir, bee but pleas'd to quit the Court, and shew your [Page] person, and designe unto your countrimen, and I dare promise twise that number in three dayes.

Necessity inforces me to leave th' Court, or live disho­norable here; but love that tells me I cannot live but here: is love and honor opposite? they are twins that in my soule strive for preheminence, and whilst they doe so raise it higher, honour thou hast o'recome by helpe of reason:

Speake Sir, are ye resolv'd?

I am, only 'twere fit, to cleere mee to th' world, I aske performance of that promise from th' King, which I am well assured he will not grant me.

'Twill be dangerous.

Not at all, as I will move it, I have many friends in Court; besides th'Army not being yet dissolv'd he dare not injure me; this very night you shall take horse, about it streight, our time is short.

Your stable's so well furnisht, one out of the City shall be safe enough.

Guiderius, our enterprise can never prosper, unlesse I kisse the Princesse hand, and obtaine her leave, which she wud never grant, did she know all my designe, as she must doe in part.

Your meeting must be in th' Garden, she dares not have you in her chamber, least some of her women shud [Page] know it.

Alas, I am a torment to her.

How she wud chide you, did she heare; you might as well have said, you are to me a trouble.

I dare not say so.

Nor shud you think th'other; Ile know her houre when she wud have you come.

Doe so, deere Guiderius.

'Twas so, it cou'd be no other wayes, Arviragus kild them both: but I must smooth my brow; tell me brave Ar­viragus, why we enjoy so little of your companie, and it so deare to us.

I shall be ever ready to receive and execute what you command me, Sir, but to importune you with frivolous discourse fits not a souldier: I have no businesse, Sir, but one, and that I hope I shall not need to put your Ma­estie in mind of.

I know no sute ye moved me in, but when ye doe, ye are like to speed.

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I cou'd have wishd the Prince not here, but now it must seeme feare, shud I not name it.

What was it Arviragus, you did move me in?

I must not take, Sir, from your noblenesse to say I made a sute, you were royally pleas'd to promise, that you wud place me in my fathers principality, if I return'd vi­ctorious from the warre.

Ha, place you on your fathers seate? first free your selfe form servitude, before you be a Prince.

From servitude? whose servant am I; rather, whose slave? for in that sense you speake it: 'tis true, I have done service, kings service, commanded a brave army, laboured for victorie thorow sweat, and blood.

And ye were crown'd for that, have triumpht, an ho­nour farre above your merit, since that hath sweld you up so high, that ye forget those to whom you owe your being.

I owe my being to th'Gods.

And to my father that preserv'd your life.

I must confesse to him my obligation's great, but yet must take th' boldnesse to tell his sonne, hee spoke not in this straine, when I last undertooke the war: withall, that if I owe his father for a life, hee and his father both owe mee for the security of theirs, and of theit crown, which sate but tottering till I fastned it.

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Thy traitors head does so upon thy shoulders, or I re­nounce th'obedience of a sonne; Sir, shall a live?

My sonne we must not for a few rash words forget the worthy service he hath done us. Remember henceforth Arviragus this is our son, and heire to both our King­domes, and we shall studie to forget your present bold­nesse.

And without study yee will forget your promise to mee for my fathers Kingdome.

If I doe not, sonne doe you assist me.

No Sir, let him forget vertue and all th' braverie of his younger yeares, and when he comes to raigne be old in mischiefe, rich in his peoples curse, when he hath bath'd them in a sea of blood.

Thus Ile begin then.

Treason, traytors.

If there be any here Sir, 'tis your sonne, that acts your part, e're you are in your grave, condemning such to die that seeke your preservation.

I must dissemble I see th' whole Court does conspire with him: Guimantes ye were to rash, 'twas an act nei­ther becomming you a Prince, or dutious sonne, and know good Arviragus how e're we seeme before our son to be offended with your claime, we shall find time to make our promise good, only know this, that Princes in matters of this nature love not to be much urg'd; son, if you wud have me to forget your error, doe you forget all that hath past betwixt you and Arviragus, you have [Page] been bred together from your child-hood, for shame now fall not out for trifles, I meane for words, which past, cou'd you, as I, forgive them, and forget as just nothing, lost in that aire of which they were framed.

Sir, I in all things shall obey.

Guimantes, give me your hand?

I must obey you Sir.

How I am joyed in this accord; son give me your hand, and princely Arviragus yours;

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What never?

Child that I am, I was about to say, never receive a­gaine.

Guiderius, thou art troubled.

Not I Madam.

Thou art, th'teares stand in thy faire eyes; what was the meaning of that intercepted, never, that with a sigh came from thee?

I was about to say, th' honor I receiv'd in kissing your princely hand I never could forget; but ravish'd with th' touch, I raisd my thoughts unto those greater happi­nesses that Arviragus one day might receive, and from the sense of so great blessing to my Prince and friend, let fall those teares of Joy.

Sure thou wudst be above what e're yet was known ex­cellent in friendship; but whilst I stay justly to praise thee, I may doe injury to him, whose worth and love makes thee so true a friend; nay, lose the benefit of that I magnifie thee for. Where are ye Ladies? once more good-night.

May it prove such, for my presaging soule tells mee, [Page] 'twill be th'last leave we shall ever take.

But what are these to me? women and children build on dreams, and fancies; Shall I, whom reall dangers in their most horrid forms cou'd never fright, bee trou­bled at these nothings?

Shreek on, and fright some thiefe, or bloody murtherer, whose conscience is black, and apted for these appre­hensions; not guilty blood does clog, or staine my soule, all was in rightfull warre that e're I shed, and yet it was a Tyrant's will guided my sword; 'gainst whom? Soft, sure my nose bleeds, if any, this must bee to mee a fatall warning, since never till this minute did it bleed before; and sure this my owne proper blood now dropping from me, informs that I shed some bloud of my owne subjects, and even of sueh as bravely fought for liberty against a Tyrant. Pardon you Powers, I shortly shall redeem that errour of my child-hood, for restoring of my captiv'd country.

I am now just at th' place, fatall to those that did assaile me; 'tis worth my care, and preparation, tho not my feare; I need no other wound, but th' sad parting from my deare Mistris.

Madam, you still prevent me, and your owne appoin­ted times; yet 'tis but like your other gracious favours, in every act causing addition to that love, which [Page] I believed compleat, but here, and in celestiall bodies, my love and admiration rise higher, as I increase in knowledg of your excellence, and love to me.

My love to you, fortune, my dearest servant, hath yet been wanting, in an occasion wherin I might expresse what I wud doe for you.

Take heed, you doe complain too soone, th'occasion is too neere, and fierce necessity compells me with an ab­ruptnesse, bordering on incivility, to beg an answer to that sute I scarce had moved, when we were interrup­ted by your fathers comming; to think you did not un­derstand me, were but to call in question th'intelligene our truly loving soules have held so long.

Tis true, I did, 'twas a contract that you meant, Ile name it plainly for you; I dare as boldly speak my thoughts to you, as I dare think them. Let ceremonious lovers, that with strange hyperbolicall expressions seek to endeare each other, be more in heart, than in their tongues, mine neither shall come short, nor yet exceed what my soule feels: I love thee, noble Arviragus, e­quall with my self; but yet lesse than mine honour, which by a privat contract needs must suffer.

Deare mistris, be not offended, that with a soule as free I speak my thoughts; did I believe this your refusall grew not from an opinion, that e're long your fathers liking might be won to crown your wishes, I shud not know which way to find a cure for th' deep wound that you have given men, nor shall I for mine owne sake wish to live after this houre, when I shall let you know the cause that makes me presse this grant if yee shall then refuse it.

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Altho I feare to bid you, name it.

What you perhaps may have suspected in part be pleasd to know for certaine, there's no time, nor place where I can count my self secure; Danger, and of all kinds circles me round, both force and policy are set on work; your brothers malice hath prevaild, poyson'd your fa­thers soule with foule ingratitude, within whose smiles I read certain destruction, which by th'Gods I am com­manded to prevent by flight, least I shud force them be unjust, or tempt them by a miracle to save my life, this minute that I kneele and beg your licence to depart, 'tis not unlike I may bee pierst thorow with a bullet, for there are spies upon me, nor shall their execution need if you deny th'blessing of your plighted faith: that curse will strike me dead.

Rise, rise Arviragus.

Not till you grant my suit.

How can I without breach of dutie?

How can I live then removed from you in person, and wanting th' great assurance of your love?

Can you suspect my faith?

If I did so suspect your faith, I shud not thus beg th'en­gangement of it, but I may doubt your love equals nor mine, since you deny me to make me blest by an assu­rance.

The love you injure thus is made apparent most in this refusall, let such whose loves are tottering, and [Page] unstable, who have not vertue, and perfection for their grounds, seek aids, and ceremoniall bands to hold them firme; mine is a love, as fixt as are thy vertues, which does admit no possibility of change.

But if your father shall dispose your person to another, what then becomes of all this glorious boast of love, and constancie? think not to say, you ever will bee mine in soule: th' Gods that joyn'd that and the bodie, aswell allow selfe-murther, as these to have a separation after marriage.

I cou'd not pardon this so low a thought, but that th' Injurie does more reflect upon your selfe than me; since you professe you love her, that you yet beleeve so worth­lesse; but to th' purpose, my soule tells me your stay is dangerous; th' Gods and Nature both com [...]and wee shud not marry 'gainst our parents will, yet that does not approve, that wee of force must marry whom th [...]y please, tho both shew disobedience, yet th' last hath ma­ny excuses, one that th'parents dares not but accept of, devotion to the service of the Gods; but if this prove my fate, I wud not for a world lose the glory of my suffe­rings; were I contracted yours, to die, rather than mar­ry any other. An honest milk maid wud with joy per­forme as much for a rude shepheard, but to stand free from any other band, than that of love, which is so of­ten, and so easily broak by vicious soules, and yet continue constant, were an act worthy the daughter of a King, and mistris to the noble Arviragus.

Upon my knee I thank yee more for this refusall, than [...]ad you granted; yee have rectified my soule, let­ting me see the beauties of your owne, nor had assu­rance [Page] suted with my doubtfull fortune; since not your husband, yet as your servant, grant some favour, not that by it I may remember you, but as a charm to shield me from all dangers.

Then we must part, here take this bracelet, give me that ring, Ile seale my letters with it; this, and our usuall character shall only bee of faith betwixt us: but in what Country doe ye mean to live, until these storms blow over?

There's nothing can allay these storms, but my heart blood.

I dare not think upon my misery, it will o'rewhelme me with a sorrow not to be borne; ye doe not tell mee where you meane to remaine, or how I shall send to ye.

May I not be pardon'd now, ye shall have notice quick­ly where I am.

What countrie?

That's it I wud conceale.

How, conceale from me?

'Twas well I did prepare for this, my dearest Mistris, it now drawes towards morning, and young Guiderius with a friend or two, waits with my horse without the Ports; 'tis not consideration of my danger, so much as theirs, leaves me the use of memorie to tell me what I have to doe, for I for ever cou'd remaine here: bee pleasd when I am gone, to read this paper; that [Page] will inform you all that I intend.

May I not know it now?

Build on your servant, faith 'tis not fit ye shud: O dea­rest Mistris, can I live, and leave you thus, since from our infancy we have grown up together?

Shall we ever meet againe?

I hope we shall.

It was but faintly spoke, there was no faith in't; Oh my sad heart!

Am I a man, a souldier, yet play the woman thus? not to be touchd at such a parting, were to be more insen­sible than a rock, or Tygres, that yet pity their own di­stresse: drop faster ye beloved teares, like those shed for our crimes, this shame to man-hood is my height of glorie.

O cruell farewell we shall never meet againe.

A Dies by poison, 'tis most convenient so, both for th'acting, and concealment, there's a charme in his manly looks, or glorious name, that will deter, and daunt the boldest that shall undertake by force to kill him; no, he is a son of Mars, and by a marshall hand, or weapon cannot die, but in the field unto his fathers glory: poison must doe it, th'instrument's Adrastus, in­gag'd already in my plots, whose immediate care in this performance may redeeme his former failing by his servants.

Pardon dread Soveraigne, that I presse on your retire­ments, yet th'importance of th'affaire may well excuse a servant bound by oath to make discoverie, of what hee feares may touch upon his masters life, or honor.

Ha, my selfe, or honor, speak wherin?

With all speed possible hast to the Campe, and by your presence there confirm the souldiers loyalties, which else may faile.

Why are they discontented? have I not taken order for their pay, and to the chiefe Commanders given rich re­wards?

Ye have given indeed to all, and to their Generall, th' [Page] much loved Arviragus, a triumph but in mockery, [...] he I feare receives it, since you deny his fathers Prin­cipality; cou'd ye beleeve a spirit like to his wud bea [...] those scorns the Prince did put upon him? my feare perswades mee hee is either fled already, or does it tend it; and whether shud hee goe but to the Army not yet disbanded? once there, hee'l force yee yeel [...] what he desires; and what can be to you of more disho­nour? Justice, and wisdome are th' essentiall parts o [...] government, and you from this will seeme in both de­fective.

If this be true, as sure it is, there will bee danger o [...] my person in the Campe opposed 'gainst one they lov [...] so much; the credit of Sinatus person, with my autho­rity, will bee of equall vertue. Sinatus, to witnesse my beliefe to what I grieve at for Arviragus sake, his dan­gerous impatience, and unkind, unwise revolt, here take this ring, and with it power, as if my selfe were present; dispose the Army so, as neither my person, nor my honour perish; I doe commit both to thy faith; and wisdome, and if thou find the much mistaken youth▪ tell him I take it ill, that he beleeves my sonne governs as King, I yet alive; for did a not, a wud have rested on my Royall word, and not have forc'd mee by this rashnesse to approve that for justice in my sonne Gui­mantes, which I was resolved to punish, as malicious ingratitude; let thy owne hast witnesse how great thou thinkst the danger.

I flye to serve my Prince, and save my friend.

If Arviragus shall reach the Armie before hee can [Page] [...]e there, yet will Sinatus presence lessen his authority, [...]t least slacken his fiercenesse, and give us time to arme [...]esides.

[...] read amazement, and distraction in your Royall brow, [...]hat Sir's the newes?

The worst of ills, losse and dishonor; were mighty Jove [...]ffended, his dreadfull amr strercht forth, in his fier­ [...]est bolt wrapt up in thunder, and that I knew he aim'd [...]t my head, it wud not strike my heart with halfe that [...]error, not when the lightning sing'd my browes, as [...]ow to know th'injur'd, and fierce Arviragus is escap'd; me thinks I see him in th'head of all his Troope, his [...]een sword drawn, whose brightnesse hee hath vowed [...]o change into a crimson hew, with blood of perjur'd, [...]nd ungratefull Princes; and what thy pride and malice wud not allow unto his merit, his fathers petty King­dome, shall now be multiplied by conquest on our soile, [...]ill that bee thought from him a recompence but for a private captaine.

My pride and malice? you were not rasher in making him that promise of his fathers Crown, that resolute to break it when you had done; why am I taxt then with your double fault? had ye given way, I had nayl'd him to th' earth before your face: now ye perceive th' uncertaintie of policie compared with force; you feard the mutinous people, that was our losse, which [...]senesse when I am guilty of, let mee forget [Page] my birth and hope.

If e're you live my yeares, you'l know the common people are not to be contemn'd; nor shud a wise pre­vention of discontent be accounted feare: but to th' present, what's past cannot be now recall'd, what means have we to make resistance against this fury? let us con­sider that, and not, like women, scold our selves into a greater disorder.

Why did ye not, wing'd with necessitie, haste to th'ar­my, when first ye heard it?

And so perhaps have put my selfe in Arviragus power, if he were there before me.

Yet ye might have oppos'd me to that hazard, necessity inforcing, without a taxe.

I rather chose to send faithfull Sinatus, one that the souldiers reverence much, and who did to me discover th' flight of Arviragus.

Wud I trust him, th' only friend to Arviragus? ye are abused in all, either th' Traitor is not fled, or if a be, then is Sinatus a confederate, and they have wrought upon your timorous nature, and gain'd a power to worke our over-ruin.

Fon [...]y, how canst thou think thy self so far superior in thy judgment, yet seest th'colour of these hairs? consider my active life, and industrie, begetting feare, and reverence, not only from my subjects, but all the neighbour Princes: no act of consequence yet ever un­dertaken by me, either in war or peace, but had a happy issue; how dar'st thou then presume to taxe, as void of [Page] reason, a Counsell which [...] way can better.

My passion Sir, made me forgetfull of my dutie.

No, no, henceforth manage your owne affaires, th'king­dome's yours, at least you gape for't, counting me in my [...]otage, unfit to govern now; doe you redresse what is [...]misse, bring in this rebell by your wisdome, or your [...]ower, then I shall think you fit to be my tutor.

Tho Sir, I no waies dare presume to such a thought to [...]utor you, yet pardon me to say I dare ingage my honor, [...]ive me but power, to bring you back this traytor dead, or alive.

[...] feare he is too strong and politique for you to cope with.

Sir, on my knees I beg the honor, grant me the title of [...]our Generall, and I will cease to be your son, or bring [...]dditions to your glory; why will you Sir for ever [...]eep me from the souldiers knowledg? if so, take back [...]his sword, to me a mockerie, send for a gowne, and let [...]e enter orders, or else become a Doctor of the Laws: [...]o be a Prince, and yet not capable to lead an army, is to [...]e wanting of the noblest part of government, obnoxi­ous to the scorn and injuries both of my own, and stran­gers.

Be master of your wish, goe, and with speed prepare [...]ou for the war.

Now you are my most gracious father.

The thanks belong unto necessity, and not my wil, which wud for ever have kept thee ignorant of warre, thy spi­rit being so fierie, impatient of delayes, which as I grow [Page] in yeares, may prompt thee to undermine my power at least, if not my life, and both I wud have end together.

The newes, speake, and from whom?

From Pictland, Sir, there they are up in armes.

Who is Leader?

Lord Eugenius.

Eugenius, what numbers are they?

A thousand strong, but doe the actions of ten thousand: upon the way I met Prince Arviragus, from expectation of whose assistance they did begin th' enterprise.

Didst thou meet the Traytor, and let him scape? hang up this slave.

Alas, my Lord, durst I oppose him?

My noble Cosen, and you my faithfull friends, true [Page] lovers of your Prince, and Countries liberty; what you have done alreadie, is a brave Omen to our great designe; the City you have gain'd will bee a sure re­treat, if fortune frowne, as oft she does, to whet the courages of those shee hath adopted for her favorites; even Caesar sometimes had a foile, but rise with grea­ter courage, and at last attain'd the wreath triumphant.

There's none are truly wise, and valiant, that are not stil prepared for other fortune; but how are you re­solved to prosecute th' war? will ye lay siege to th'strong townes, or take the smaller villages, and so remove from place to place, till you increase your num­bers.

Neither I deare cosen, I know by this there is an army marching towards us, which I will meet with one of our three thousand, you with th' other two shall summon such townes as ye beleeve stand best affected to us, I make no doubt divers will yeeld, and as ye prosper, or diminish, let mee have notice by trusted Messen­gers.

But why Sir, will you endanger your person with so small numbers, on the safety of which rest all our hap­pinesse? at least take you two ports, and leave me one, I daily shall encrease my troopes.

And doe ye thinke I shall not? besides I know these souldiers I have commanded will fight against me with­out hearts; I feare nothing so much, as they will all revolt, and take away the glory of my victory: the Moone shall no sooner be up, but I will march toward the enemy.

Be pleasd Sir, I may wait upon you.

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Guiderius I will not part you from so good a tutor in the warre, besides I will not venture both our Persons in one army: if I miscarry, for yet I have no son, bee thou my heire to all I can pretend to, only by glorious warre revenge my injuries, and yeeld this Countrie, what I doe faile in purchasing, freedome from Saxon slaverie, and make the Pictish Kingdome once againe considerable to all the Princes of this Iland.

O Sir, this gift is like your selfe, full of that royall bountious inheritance in your soule, but yet to mee it beares no value: can any blessing rise to me out of your ruin? no Sir, I must not leave you; the aire, tho ne're so cleare, is poyson if you breath not in it, nor meat, nor sleep can nourish, wanting your company; I doe be­seech your highnesse leave me not behind, unlesse you wud expresse I am a trouble to you.

Oh my best friend, speake not a thing so harsh.

You doe Sir, what ye wud not have me speake, the grea­test of all cruelties in leaving me behind.

Sonne, if it be the Princes pleasure, I much desire stay not out of fondnesse, tho I love you as much as any father does; but that by you I may send letters to him of our proceedings, and monies which yet are wanting the sinewes of the warre; not have you seen your mo­ther, or your sister yet, who pines with griefe, not having seene you this seven yeares past, having remaind, during these warres in Pictland.

Guiderius, If ye desire to obliege me, refuse not a sute so just, made by a father that shud command; the Moone will sure be up before we shal take order for the troops: [Page] let all the Commanders bee call'd straight to my Tent.

My Lord.

O Guiderius now and onely now you show your love to me is fondnesse, come I will give thee many reasons for thy stay.

Tho they may come from your lipps such, they will have lost their force before they reach my eares; ther's nothing but the merit of obedience to my Prince can save me from an unsufferable greefe for your unkind­nesse

Lay hands on that old traytor, lest in the Battell he shoud forsake us, and draw more away with him, and let him presently be put to death.

Thanks Prince, pay thy fathers old servants debts but thus, and thou shalt soone grow rich in ha­tred.

Me Lord, the Souldiers neere will endure to see it.

Ha, the Souldiers neere endure to see it?

I am confident ther's none will execute it.

I am confident e'en he that doubts shall performe it: doe't thy selfe, or by the gods i'le bee thy executi­oner

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Then Sir, you must.

Traytor, and shall.

'Twas meant to me; O hold, consider now your passi­on, which carries you to actions, even against your re­solution; I am wounded by your own hand, temper your rage, the souldiers hearts will soone be lost, nor doe I give this counsell, as I love your person, but your calling, my Prince, but most, your fathers Generall, on whose successe depends his own, and the Kingdomes sa­fetie.

Arme—arme, the enemie appeares upon the rock above us, and into our quarter, my Lord, tumbles down great stones, that doe most fearfull execution, which un­expected accident hath put the Campe in great disor­der.

Prepare Sir, for assault, th' enemie comes on a pace; as if he meant to charge upon that quarter that lyes [...] furthest from the Rocke, and will I feare be with us e're we can put our men in order.

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Hast each man to his command, and some that loves me dispatch that wretch out of the world, lest he shud glo­rie in our ruin.

Ile undertake it Sir.

Thanks Souldier.

Now, my brave friends, wee are come unto the place, where, if our hearts, and hands bee strong and valiant, the labour we have taken this night, passing these crag­gie mountaines, shall find reward; riches, and glory, the meed of souldiers. Cleanthus, and his troope, have from the Rock perform'd their part, entred disorder, and amasement in the Campe, the harbinger of ruin to them, to us of victory. Let us not lose so faire advan­tage, charge home, my Country-men; for my part, with my troope, Ile pierce the armie thorow, and charge the Prince; strike terrour in their souls by our first act, and ever after they will flie like sheepe before us. Ye powers,

There's no resistance can bee made, th' Souldiers flie like sheepe before th' wolfe; what shud wee doe but [Page] yeeld, and save our lives? besides, the justice of his cause is such th' heavens takes part with him.

O my deare friend, now is my victory compleat, that I have power to recompence in part, the many services that you have done me: from whom did you receive this wound?

From one that gave a deeper to my heart, by his un­kindnesse.

Whose curs'd hand?

The Prince Guimantes, that now hath paied too dearly for his rashnesse; I heare he is your prisoner, pray let him be nobly us'd.

Else it shall be your fault; for to your charge I will commit him.

To mine? I am his subject, and fellow prisoner.

But ye are my friend, I dare trust you with my life, and more, with my prisoner.

I shall doe what becomes me, if yee commit him to my care.

Bring in the Prince.

Art thou alive, false traytor, to glory in my disgrace?

Me Lord, hee's your servant, and to his care I doe com­mit your person.

I rather wud be prisoner to a furie.

Hee's Philicia's brother, and cannot be too nobly us'd: see th' Campe be well fortified, the watch carefully set, th' evening drawes on apace—Sinatus, command as freely, as our selfe, and let your charge find all fit li­berty.

Most gratious Prince.

From whence those letters?—

From Pictland, Sir.

Come here; is Eugenius, and Guiderius, as I here am in­form'd, revolted?

Most certaine true.

Upon thy life let to man know this greatest of mis­fortune, 'twud discourage all my souldiers; whether is vertue fled? wait on us, and I will dispatch yee backe immediatly, we have no need of new supplies, wee are strong enough to meet a foe more daring.

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Now Sir, dare you yet boast your innocencie? what is 't cou'd make you thus respected, but that ye confederate with him in his treasons? Say, be plaine, are ye appoin­ted this night to murder me? if so, doe't but manly, take me not in sleepe, that I may see my danger, and Ile thanke thee; for to beleeve lesse is intended me, yet thou appointed for my guard, were madnesse: I know thy wounds yet smarts, reveng't, and strike home, for since I am dishonored in my first attempt, thus beaten by a handfull, and I Commander often times as many, life is to me no other thing than a burden.

It seemes ye gathered from our whispering, what my Commission was, and I am glad I find you so prepared for death; you see this arme, the blood ye drew must be requited, to kill a Prince is brave, an action of a tran­scendant straine; by all that's sacred I glory more in this occasion, than all that ever yet befell me, that I have power to set my princes son at libertie, tho with my owne most certaine ruin.

Speak, what dost thou meane by this?

To set you free, or else my hopes deceive me.

Thou dost amase me, I know this can be nothing but dissimulation; some witty cruelty, to free me from my discontent, and then to kill mee when my hopes are raisd.

Me Lord, I grieve your soule's so-fram'd, you cannot better apprehend the glory of th'action I performe, and in reward of what I doe, be so good to your selfe, as I will show my selfe a faithfull subject in spight of all your injuries.

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Shall I beleeve this reall?

Me Lord ye may.

Cou'd I beleeve thou didst intend this, yet where's the means for my escape?

Cover'd with night, and cloath'd in th' habit of one of my servants, ye may escape to Stamfoard, there ye are secure:

I scarcely can give faith thou meanest well.

GUIMANTES, now ye find the advantage that ex­perience gives, especially in warre; had ye not mistrusted old Sinatus, yee had not beene so sud­denly surpris'd into th' ruin of your army, and your owne danger; what's past, wee will forget, and now rejoyce that you are safe return'd. I must inform you how I did withdraw Eugenius, what the allurements were, assurance of a double marriage betwixt our children, that you shud marry with his daughter; his sonne Guiderius with your sister, and that hee shud be King of Picts, but paying tribute to your selfe, and successours; upon these hopes hee's come, your taske is easie, onely make love to a faire Lady, which if ye like, ye may injoy; if not, there may be means to break the match; at first however show your selfe a passionate lover, and pay all the respects yee can imagine, to the father, who wee immediatly will send to warre against our enemy, fierce Arviragus, where let them ruin one the other.

But how, Sir, dare you trust him, being so neere a kin to Arviragus your enemy, least they shud reconcile, and joyne against you, or that indeed this his revolt is only policie?

Are not his sonne and daughter in my power? it is im­possible he shud abandon them unto my rage.

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I am instructed, and henceforth shall obey your wise counsell, tempering my feares, and rugged nature.

Noble Eugenius, my brother I must call thee, fellow in arms besides, for many a dangerous skirmish have we been together.

Your majestie much honours mee in the remembrance.

But now Eugenius th' youths grow arrogant, contemne the aged, and experienc'd souldier, trust upon strength and fortune, without discipline; and, for a while, in some it hath prosper'd, to my griefe; nor was't a won­der, where their opposite was rash, and heady like them­selves; but now when Arviragus shall perceive Eugeni­us comes against him, Eugenius, without whom he scarce­ly ever yet perform'd an act considerable; both he and his will be abashd, as knowing they have now to deale with one of courage equall, and experience farre abov [...] them

Most royall Sir, I dare not promise victory, or slight an enemy so daring, whose souldiers are confirm'd in conquest: but if I doe not take the Garland from his brow, arm'd in the justice of your cause, which hath en­lightned me to see my error, the wreath of death shall circle mine. In ten set battles, skirmishes not to bee numbred, I have had an active place, and been consi­siderable [Page] to th' enemy, in six of these bore the supream command; in all which, victory still smil'd upon mee, nor doe I feare her present frowne, for I will court her in the noblest way, perhaps cause a divorce 'twixt her, and Arviragus, to whom of late the world holds her wed.

No hand, my noble father, so I am proud to call you, can be so fit to separate fortune, and Arviragus, as yours that joynd them, and if she yet can see true merit, or that th Gods, as it hath oft been said, forsake not brave endeavours, then I (now yours) so without envie shall have my stains wipt off, and prove an ample sharer in your glories.

The honour I receive from all, must raise Eugenius to to doe something above himselfe; I long Sir, till I be in action.

Necessitie inforces that which you desire, and all things doe attend you; these Captains which I here present you, are such as ye may boldly trust, men well expe­rienc'd, and full of courage.

We shall be proud of such, and move by their advice.

Me Lord, our greatest ambition shall bee to execute what you command, as knowing you a Master in th' art.

Sir, I doe present you with this maid, deare to me, next my honour, more then my life; my son, me Lord, I leave to [...] you, my wife I had brought to, but that a sud­den sicknesse hindred: h [...]re yee have all my wealth, what I possesse besides, your royall favours have taught me to contemn as things below my present hopes, this good sword, and your kingly promise is the stocke [Page] on which I build my future happinesse.

This Lady, were she not deere to mee from the consi­deration of my son, yet hath her owne perfections pow­er to make all places blest where shee remains.

And for my charge, what can be dearer to me, than hee that is to marry with my sister, and whose acquaintance formerly hath made that neerenesse an addition to my joyes.

'Twere Sir, in us presumption not to be o'recome, where you intend to conquer by your courtesie; where the gods meane most to magnifie themselves, they chuse meane subjects to worke by, least they shud seeme to share their glory: so you, my Lord, by gracing us un­worthy, need no wayes apprehend your bountie shud be censur'd as reward due to our merit: but that I may in act, the souldiers complement expresse my thanks. I take leave to kisse your royall hand.

Brother, you injure me in this, for tho you honor me to be my Generall, let the world know your merit, and my love create you Prince of Pictland, in that quality. I shall esteeme you.

Most royall Sir, if my sword hold his temper I shal make good upon my enemies crest, that you have only power to give this title.

Sir, let me crave your blessing, since you seeme you have determin'd I shud not beare you company.

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Th' heavens preserve you; O my sweet Artemia, thou makest me shame my selfe, and beare thee company, no more, my dearest child, teares shed at parting boad mis­fortune; me Lord, you see this tendernesse.

And love it Sir, yet hope to dry them up from th' assu­rance of my faithfull service.

Me Lord, unto your noble love I doe commend her, that modest innocence that nature hath bestowed, is all her ornament; she wants th' usuall arts of Court to set her of.

In which shee's more beautifull than art can make her: nothing can give addition to the Lilly, or the Rose, their native colour and their sweetnesse gives their value; art takes away from their perfection, as all praise must from her, who is above it.

May my father conquer as fast in warre, as your civility must doe in peace.

Our wishes, and our prayers shall atend you.

Madam, Prince Guiderins, your servant, those honours now the King confers upon him, desires to kisse your hand.

Ah mee! there was a comfort once, but now hee's [Page] false, or else he wud have forsooke his traytor father, and fled to Arviragus: were I a man, I wud not long remaine here, where I am prest each minute to the soule with slanders, and with curses that I heare pro­nounc'd against the man I love: Prince Guiderius my servant say ye?

Yes Madam, so the King desires all shud esteeme him.

Bring him in,—how can a look upon me, or which way open his lips to such an end as love? I wud not see him, but that 'twill breed suspition in my father, since formerly I ever used him wth much free­dome.

With such devotion, as superstitious Moores salute the light, doe I behold those glorious eies, wanting whose happy influence, perpetuall night hath dwelt about me. Tho day break, 'tis in clouds, a sullen morne, if I be not mistaken; (O wud I were) can so faire browes threa­ten a storme? or your cleare eyes dart forth such kil­ling scornes? yet I have armour to preserve me against these; beleefe, that I am innocent from guilt, a soule more yours than ever.—Not speake, if you indeed de­sire to make my sudden death a witnesse of your power, it is the office of your tongue to perfect it, shewing where I am guiltie of a crime against your sacred selfe, and I shall quickly cease to have a being, rather one so mise­rable.—Not yet?—'tis true, if in my selfe consi­dered, I am not worthy you shud speake to me, yet free me from amasement, and let me know how you have lost that ornament of curtesie, that does so well become you, and all other ladies.

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'Twas not my want of curtesie so much as knowledge, who I was to speak to made me silent.

Am I so miserable to be thought a stranger to you?

Are ye not so unto your selfe? ye were Guiderius, friend to me, and Arviragus; now I am told ye are a Prince, son to a trayter.

Madam, I must believe you cannot think him such, that is a friend, and servant to your father; and for that ho­nour is confer'd by him on me, I must confesse I glory in their acquisition, or being raised to such a height, as I am only dazled by your beauties, not your birth, which distance till this present, in my tortur'd bosome, smo­ther'd a fire, the smoake scarsly appearing; by which restraint it now shall break so gloriously forth, that all flames else shall show but faint, and sickly if compa­red.

Better obscure it still, the light of it will only show th' owners impudence, and falshood.

If it expresse truth, and respect to you, even falshood to all others will show glorious.

The glory of my sufferings will prove reward, since 'tis for one so excellent.

And be assured that it shall be my only study to make them reall.

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And I shall thanke ye even for that; fortune does wrong my love to give me th' advantage of your fathers liking, nor will time permit my desert by suffering to obtaine; I wud not have ye mine, ▪till I had won your soule without all aids, spight of your cruell resolution; for when ye shall consider my love beares date from the first minute that I saw you; and that, when I believ'd it was to make you happy, I yielded my assistance to an­other; you cannot but find some remorse, some sense of what I suffered, when Arviragus, for whose sake you think I am to be contemnd, owes you for thousand joyes, which he can never pay, nor sure does he intend it; for wud he else make warre upon your father, seek his de­struction, that preserv'd his life, and had within few daies seated him on his fathers throne.

O yee powers!

But he, carried away with mad ambition, and ingrati­tude, perhaps inconstancie, as now contemning what he did possesse, comes on towards this City, threatning de­struction to the State, and in that generall, yours: for grant he loves ye, it is hard to thinke, yet may some rude hand, if he take the City, injure your person, and hee not able to revenge it; true love wud bee more timorous, and lesse consider his own advantage.

Where didst thou gather all this venome? not in Pict­land, sure the masters vertue purges that, yet was it poisonous till thy father left it: but here, this Court, the mint of mischiefe, where slander, and ingratitude beare sway; 'twas heere thou learnd'st with an [Page] affronted brow to spot th' innocent, and cleanse the guiltie, but never more dare to approach this place, to touch my eare with any sound to th' disgrace of Ar­viragus; or if I have no power to barre thee, know that his vertues have so charm'd my heart, that all and every sense shall become uselesse, or stand suspected as traytors to my peace, that shall convey ought to his pre­judice.

But Madam.

Prethee speak not to me, thou art a creature so unwor­thie, that I am sicke to looke on thee, a living sepulcher th' art, in which is buried a vertuous youth, that I once lov'd, but now there's nought but filth, and rottennesse of soule.

Lady, I am not such unto your father, nor (were you wise) shud I appeare to you so hatefull.

I am indeed a foole to move him thus, shud he discover to my father my affection to Arviragus, I have been too rash; shall I beleeve it was possible you cou'd assist an­other, yet love your selfe?

Ha, I doe not like that question.

'Tis true, I ever did observe my company was gratefull to you, but sure it was not love did cause it.

Looke on your owne perfections, and from thence re­ceive assurance.

I must beleeve them without force, else why shud Ar­viragus prove unconstant? but sure he is not such, pray leave me; you have put such troubles in my mind no art [Page] can free me from.

Nor me from thinking all your sex is false.

Why doe ye stay? an other time, perhaps, your company will not displease me.

O Arviragus!

Ha, that sigh was well dissembled, or it shewed a reall passion either to him, or mee; you are sad Sir.

Pardon me Madam.

Trust me ye are, and I must share, what e're I seeme, I am not made of marble.

Rather of Yee; how wud a reall passion melt this La­dy? perhaps not move her, falsehood from sympathy ra­ther begets a liking.

Gentle Guiderius, for such I now againe beleeve thee, tell me the cause of this so sudden change; thou shew­est more sadnesse now, that I am kind, than when I was most harsh.

Madam, ye are deceived, I am transported with a joy you under stand not.

What is it madam?

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That I durst name it.

Madam, ye may.

First promise faithfully to answer mee one question I shall aske.

By th' gods I will, so ye will answer me another with like truth.

I vow to doe it.

Speake then.

I aske you whom of all creatures ye love best?

I did not looke for this, pray aske some other, this you know already.

Take heed of perjury, Ile no other question.

Then know I never did, nor ever shall love any crea­like Prince Arviragus.

'Tis plaine, he but dissembled, it seemes ye love not me then?

None, since I never loved, or can any, but Arviragus, to this the gods are witnesse: I see wee have dissembled both, and vertue was the motive; but why shud you [Page] mistrust my faith?

To take a triall of my owne, for truth is Madam, I did [...]ove you with some passion, and often have been promp­ [...]ed from my naturall inclination, but vertue, and my [...]riendship to Prince Arviragus hath still o'recome, and I [...] now ever shall, for if you prove unconstant, ye grow unworthy his affection, and consequently th'adoration which I pay you.

Fairest Mistris, can it bee possible ye are so ignorant of love, yet have such power to beget love in all that see you?

Beget love? Ye are the first that ever told me so, what is hee like? I wud faine see my child; is hee like Venus sonne? I saw him in a picture once, that lad had bow, and ar­rowes.

But none that pierce hearts thorow, like those darts shot from your eies.

Mine, sure I have none, I feele not any thing within my eye.

You may your cruell scornes, if ye will see my heart.

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'Twere treason to desire it Sir, your heart?

Treason to love ye now commit, to be thus scornfull.

Treason to love? what is my sonne my King? I thought I might have whipt him, Venus did so, I well remem­ber.

I cannot tell what was Adonis.

He was a young and handsome forr [...]ster.

He was not like your highnesse then.

I dare not say so, having calld him handsome.

I see your highnesse is a friend to truth.

Tho not in handsomnesse, in youth I might be like him▪ but not in his conditions: for the allurements of a God­desse cou'd not make him love, and I in spite of all you [...] scorns am wholly yours.

And what will that obliege mee to?

If ye be gratefull, it will kindle in your heart an equal fire.

But of what fewell?

Of Love.

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Of love? alas then I shall be a murtheresse and burne my sonne.

Take heed that by this seeing ignorance, ye doe not murther my respects, and your own happinesse: I am no common wooer, Lady it will be hard for you to finde one better worth th' entertay­ning.

It will be no losse Sir, since I wud not entertaine at all.

I can not thinke ye are already stored, your father durst not so abuse me.

I doe beleeve it, but Sir, I am a Goddesse, at least you styl'd me so, vow'd that ye wud be wholly mine spite of all my scornes; and trust me I wll put it to the tryall, your title of a Prince must not debarr me the priviledge of a Mistris, for by the gods my father, you, nor any living, shall make me marry but one, of whose affection I will have sufficient tryall.

And how is that tryall to be made?

By time, and what taske, I shall please to impose upon him.

But how if th' affaires of state will not permit it?

The powers command it that must give the blessing to each marriage: most daughters now adayes are made a sacrifice to wealth, or ends yet; still the hypocrite Father ptetends the Childrens happinesse [Page] is that he aims at chiefely. Pardon, me Lord, my free­dome, if either you, or I had been deform'd, yet wee had proved the cement to our fathers love; reason of State had been our ruin, I hope a better fate attends us, and that wee may know each the other in the noblest part, the minde, I am resolved one yeare to bee your Mistris, or by th' gods never your wife; nor doe I pro­mise when that yeare is past, mistake me not,

Most certainly she loves him, which if she doe, may all the curse of a father cea [...]e her.

I dare not say she does, yet ever since that night Arvi­ragus.—

No more, call her in, and heare me, let the Prince be sent for straight.—

Daughter, good morrow; J see Guiderius you wait close on your Mistris.

' [...] is so great a blessing to be neare her, that I adventure to be unportunate.

I hope she cannot think ye so—Guimanthes, where's your faire Mistris?

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I came now from her, shee's indeed a Mistris, and wo­not quit that title for a yeere.

How? will she not marry sooner, if we shall desire it?

By no meanes Sir, she hath vowed the contrary.

And she may keepe it, if you please, not otherwise, doe ye love her much?

Much, for a mistris, Sir, she's too emperious for a wife, but happily she's not what she seemes.

'Tis ods no woman is, they are not things to place our joyes upon,—they are above a Prince that wud de­sire to govern wisely, good play-fellowes sometimes, when we are idle:

Goe some, and know the newes 'tis from the Campe for certaine; be favorable ye Saxon gods—

Speake, how fares Eugenius, our worthy brother?

As he was wont, when in the field victory sits on his Crest.

Ah me! what are my feares for Arviragus?

Relate the manner of the battle.

In brief I shall; small ods cou'd be perceived, either in place, or number, only the justice of our cause made us first offer battle, which they accepting, carcases soone strow'd the [Page] fi [...]lds, death had a plenteous harvest in an instant, and the great reaper was fierce Arviragus, which once per­ceived by your great Generall, who oft had been a wit­nesse of his brutish force, but want of temper; comman­ded they shud sound retreat, so to eng [...]ge his fiery ene­my further within his troops: th' effect answered his expectation.

Oh!

For Arviragus with some others round enclosed by a choyse company prepared for the designe, was beaten from his horse, and pear [...]'d thorow with so many wounds that scarce his body cou'd be knowne after th' victory, which quickly was by us obtain'd, their Generall once lost, in whom it seemes their rebell courage lay.

Looke to my daughte [...], sure shee's not well, what did they with th' traitors body?

The souldiers tore it piece-meale, in revenge of all their kindreds blood that had been spilt, only his head with much a doe was saved to set upon the City gates, to frig [...]t all traytors from the like attempts.

Looke to my sister, she swounds.

Upon your life none stir to helpe her, may shee n [...]'re wake againe; then Arviragus she's by farre a greater traitor: wud our so great a preservation touch her thus to th' quicke else? come from her, gentle youth, she's not worthie of our love, or pity; degenerat bastard! Ye powers, grant that her soule be now entring th' infer­nall barke; but I am mercifull to wish her dead.

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O Arviragus, how most unhappy that I was not born thy subject! it had been more content to me, if thou hadst tane my life, forfeated to thy Justice, than in this liberty; thy Army is a heaven, this Court a hell for vertuous men: what a cold welcome have I found, for all my faithfull service? th' Prince Guiman­thes scarcely thanking me for his deliverance.

Cosen, me thought the King did expresse much joy t [...] see you.

'Tis true, but he hath many cares upon him, indeed is scarce himselfe, seemes to bee now what his son was, governd by passion.

O the discovery of his daughter's love to Arviragus made him almost mad; but who can blame her for a love so noble as he, th bravest man alive?

'Tis true but hee's an enemy to our State, and that con­sidering, h'expression of her father's anger is most just; Princes are borne not for themselves alone, but for their countries good.

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But tho their bloud bee royall, it cannot hinder them from humane passions, and that's no love that reason can confine; but here in Philicia to Arviragus, reason must seeme to be the ground of love, and so from him to her: I wonder it cou'd be so long conceal'd from the King, me thought it was impossible it shud be otherwaies; but to say truth, it was a prettie policy th' King us'd to know the certainty, by that terrible description of Arviragus death, and by that messenger that then was come from the Campe, so to avoid suspition of a plot.

'Tis true, their policy was good, but, like a jealous hus­band, th' assurance of his feares proves an increase unto his torment.

Peace, here's the King much troubled in his lookes, I hope that messenger, and letter are contrary to that de­scription he made his daughter.

Fled, defeated, utterly defeated, my best men slain, and the rest routed—Can ye yet adde affliction, envious Powers, my glasse so neere run out? must I now stand a but for your fierce wrath? your glorie had been more had ye begun the quarrell sooner; yee know grave hairs on bending to th' grave will shame your opposition.

O Sir, take heed, th' gods are infinite in all their at­tributes, only whilst we repine, or murmure they can [Page] show no mercy for any.

Nor doe I hope (pious foole) let them bee lookers on, impartiall unto either, and in the field Ile tugge for victory with this fierce Arviragus, whose very lookes turnes Lions into Hares,—but Eugenius was of a ba­stard race, not of the Kingly breed, else he had died, e're turn'd his backe: that maxim falls, tho held by most, that he can ever make a better captaine that hath lost a bat­tle, than he who never saw misfortune; 'twas only an excuse cowards invented, and th' generall world subject to that disease, now passes it for currant: to me there's no third; brave death, or victory onely becomes a Generall, the glorious Sunne shud never see my face, had I once turn'd my backe upon the foe.

Tho this opinion Sir, seemes to include within the coward number me, your sonne, as having lost a battle, with this your late instruction; grant new power, and I shall with my hearts best blood, or our proud ene­mies, wash off my staine, and witnesse to th' world m [...] beliefe of this your man like precept.

Thou didst not flie Guimantes, 'tis that for which I taxe Eugenius that traytor who shall pay for't; in our dispite we may bee made a prisoner, death like a coy Mistris, will not sometimes imbrace, altho she seeme within our power; and for thy sute againe to bee our Generall, our Honour does forbid it; now Arviragus is growne up worthy the hazard of our fame, our person, and it wud show feare more then wisedome, [...]to send, a substitute. No, wee will meet, young man, thou hadst thy spring of honour, even under my com­mand, since ripened fat by frequent Victo­ries, [Page] and now that thou art growne to a wealthy Au­tumne, ready to reape the fruit of all thy labours; I, since thou provest ungrate, come like a forward winter to destroy thee, and thy seeming glories. Adrastus, and Sinatus wait our commands.

And I, since now I cannot feare Eugenius revenge, by faire means, or by force will this night have my pleasure of his scornefull daughter Artemia.

Cleanthus, what's thy opinion? did Eugenius escape with life out of the Battle?

I thinke a cou'd not, but your highnesse can give best account of him.

True, of his valour, but not safety; my body once buck­led under his strong arme; 'twas well I had a better horse, whose strength did much availe, he made his way up to me thorow his fainting troopes, wo [...]d mee to the encounter, with such an admirable bravery, that honor thrust me forth to meet him, like an eager lover; and tho I then curst in my soule his troopes, and mine that parted us; yet now I blesse th' occasion, for at the best I shud have taken life from him, whose valour, and wis­dome oft hath been the chiefe security of mine.

It had been happie for him to have died with those wounds that you only gave him, and sure their nature, and their number were sufficient to dispatch him, some being in the head, and face: he look'd as if he had been [Page] bath'd in blood.

It was not all his owne, we once did close, and from this arme issued a streame; and now the heart of angers past, unto my fancie, he appeares most lovely in t [...]at souldiers dresse: had an Angell told me he and I cou'd ever have embraced to such a bloody purpose, I shud have given no faith, but thought it some deluding spi­rit sent to beget division in our then esteem'd most per­fect friendship. Ambition, thou airely sinne, thou mad'st that double separation in Eugenius, first from his ver­tue, then from me his Prince and friend: but Oh his sonne! I will not thinke upon Guiderius, least it shud strike me with a generall numnesse, force all my blood retire unto my heart, to guard it from the stroake of his unkindnesse.

Why Sir, doe ye afflict your selfe for those, who no waies doe deserve your thought, but how to punish their base falsehood?

Which I will put in act, thou dost awake justice within my soule; now wee are within a dayes march of the head City,

Adrastus, thou art my confidence, in thee is my chiefe hope, put now in act with speed what we concluded of touching the knowledge of my life, and fortune, in this present warre; use thy best diligence: I have sent a [Page] Herald to desire an enterview with Arviragus, all to gaine time till they returne, flye my best servant.

Most happy when your Majesty imployes me.

If it please your Majestie, Eugenius is arriv'd, and craves adm [...]ttance to your presence.

Fetch in that boaster, but how? without a triumph? O by no meanes, attend him Lords, he was a Prince, but now appeares a slave by his base cowardise.

I am amas'd, altho my fortune doe not deserve this seeming adoration shud bee reall, yet no waies am I conscious, that any action I have done deserves it as a scorne.

O my Lord, doe not beleev't, what, put these scornes upon the great Eugenins, that famous captaine, who sure hath brought in bonds fierce Arvirugus, or left him breathlesse in the field? if prisoner, bring him in, wee long to see him how his lookes are changed; no, then hee's dead, and in him all our dangers perish; we know our Princely brother wud be th' Master of his words, ei­their to plucke the wreath of victory from Arviragus brow, or death shud circle his.

And so it shud, ungratefull Prince, had I beene se­conded by those you gave me for assistance; no man I [Page] brought from Pictland, but his blood manures th' un­happy ground; he fought on for me, these wounds were such as I exchang'd with Arviragus hand to hand, in sight of whom, no one of yours durst follow me; I was betrayed with mine, and left a prey to the insulting foe.

No coward ever yet wanted excuse, to lay the fault on others, but rather I believe it was a plot laid by our po­liticke enemy, and thy false selfe, so to destroy our forces, or else why didst thou charge, our Captaines not con­senting at that time?

Their coward soules made them move on with a snaile­pace in my despite, whilst Arviragus tooke in townes, rifled the Country; and had he past the river, after him broke downe one bridge, he must have taken the second City of your kingdome past all resistance.

And now what hinders him?

Our best endeavour is a faire excuse, Jove gives the vi­ctory to whom he pleaseth.

And I who stand as Jove in power, pronounce thy actions treasons to th' state, for which thy head shall answer; I was a fo [...]le to thinke so neere a kinsman to my enemy, cou'd e're meane faithfully to me. Strike off his head immediatly, he that unto his friend was false to gaine a Crowne, wud be to me so, for advantage.

O my Lord, if from successe you judge mens actions, there's none but mad-men will undertake to fight your battles; in this you take away the hope of ever gaining from your enemy Captain or Souldiers.

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Well for thy sake Sinatus he shall live, but hence forth we professe nee're to employ a stranger, in our Warrs: nor can that Prince be wise, that does so if he have able Captaines of his own. Which we, thanks be to heaven, doe no wayes want, such of whose loves, judgment, and valour, we are confi­dent.

We all Sir, shall beleeve our selves most happy to spend our best bloods in your service.

And in that confidence we are resolved to charge our foe, nor suffer th' disgrace to be besieg'd in our chiefe City—for you Eugenius the death be your desert, we pardon your offence, and will allow a pension to mantaine you; and your children.

O miserable Eugenius! where breathes a man so wretched? but I deserve all this and more; why doe I live to suffer such affronts? I shoud have strooke the Tyrant dead in midst of all his scornes: I had a soule once wud have inforc't me to th' attempt, but thou hast lost thy selfe fond man; guilt makes thee base, I forfeited my courage when I lost my vertue.

What the great Prince of Pictland all alone, and discontented—please your Highnesse command your vassall any service.

I understand your scorne Sir, and am afflicted with it; having your end pray leave me, lest I be moved to doe something that may content me too.

Your Highnesse pardon, I conceive ye wud be private to consider how to dispose your prisoners. Eug. Slave.

If it may no wayes be offensive to your Highnesse, we wud desire to know when the double marriage shall be solemnis'd betweene the Kings children, and yours.

Sure your Daughter will bring us warlike Princes, and fortunate like you their noble gran-sire.

Are they not set a purpose to stirre me to some vio­lent act, on which the tyrant meanes to take advantage?

Me Lord, I have some skill in making pageants, dare undertake to please th' people, much please you that I may have employment in the triumph?

By all means Sir, you shall.

And Sir, I hope.

You may Sir, hope any thing so you'l leave me.

O me Lord.

Els I shall pay ye e're you undertake your worke.

We goe Sir.

If I be more opprest with such as these, were it be­fore th' tyrants face, I shall revenge my selfe; but hee [...]'s the Prince, sure hee's not like the rest—Sir I presume.

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'Tis true ye doe so.

Why doe you not know me Sir?

Yes, and wud have ye know your distance a runnagate, I will not call thee traytor, shud not approach th' per­son of a Prince uncal'd.

Can I yet suffer? sure I am Planet-strooke, heere had been a subject worth my anger, i'le after and sa­crifice him to my enjuries—stay—what wodst th' doe, by a rash act, forfeit thy childrens lives? perhaps there useage yet is noble; they have not proved unfortunate in Warre, ther's no treason nor no armies losse laid to their charge.

Who's this, my Daughter Artemia?

Even she your most unhappy, and most injur'd child.

Speake my Artemia! meanst thou in my affronts or personall injuries to thee?

O Sit, the vicious Prince?

No more, a little pause, untill I muster up my much infeebled spirits. I finde I nee're shall be the master of a rationall soule, nor know the proper time for action; but rage shall supply all my defects of judge­ment: speake; thou dost already plainly to my feares, the lustfull Prince hath forc't thee, speake and free me from all my miseries at once, for I know I shall no longer grieve, why art thou slow to rid. [Page] me from my suffering—say, art thou ravish'd? I see thou fearst to kill thy father, be not deceived, if it be so, it only will convert my sorrowes into rage, and I shall live untill I take revenge.

I shame to speake what I have suffered, tho yet a maid, this knife was my protection.

Think not thy feeble arme had power, it was the gods, my child, the base attempt calls for revenge; but how? alas I have not power, nor my sword is left me yet; but wher's the means to use it? I lost an opportunitie, that I wud give this hand I cou'd call backe; I might have kil'd Guimantes in height of all his scornes, but now—

O, my deare father, how I joy to see you!

Thou canst not sure Guiderius joy to see me, to see mee thus at least; the universall eye that viewes the sonnes of men, does not behold one neere so wretched.

And t's that present misery in which I judge you happy, prosperity in unjust undertakings is not a blessing: but I might curse; the gods Sir, wud ye bend to them, in an acknowledgment of your offence, wud cast an eie of pity in your miserie, and send reliefe. Rise, and take comfort.

Shame to my age, that thou shouldst now become my rutor; you powers, I find your mercy to me in your justice, for whilst my hopes were high, and that I prosper'd in my ambitious designe, the sinne of my ingratitude and false-hood [Page] to Arviragus appeared but triviall, tho often urg'd, ere we left Pictland, by thee my vertuous sonne, to the full waight, a burden now intolerable: cou'd that bee added to my owne mis-fortunes, this instant my heart wud breake with th' consideration; but 'tis impossible that they shud mix my miseries, brought me but to the sight of my offence, and vanish'd; hee that doth truly grieve at sinne, joyes in the punishment that made him know it.

Come, my d [...]are sister, now begins our happinesse.

Now brother we are at the Cave where th' old Beldam lives, and well this uncouth dismall place becomes the company shee keeps, spirits and goblins.

I doe confesse it looks as if it confin'd upon hell, but doe ye thinke it possible that she can satisfie the Kings desires, by th' foretelling of his present fate in battle, and his end?

The many proofes that shee hath given of her great knowledge, hath made [...]er famous through this I land; especially th' King hath cause to trust her prediction, since she foretold his conquest o're the Picts, and before that, his being King, tho then three brothers stood be­twixt him, and the throne: come let's enter.

No, ye shall not need, speake why ye come?

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Doe not you know?

It matters not, speake or returne.

Be not so angry, we come from th' King, that honor you, and justly, for your predictions touching him, both hitherto been true and happy.

Be briefe, or else I leave you; what is't he demands?

The issue of the present warre he hath in hand.

Is that all?

No, he desires likewise to know, when, and what shall be his end?

His army shall the battle gaine.

That's good, but what shall be his end?

Within few dayes he shall be slaine.

How? but say by whose hand shall it be?

Traytor, in thy despight, by thee.

Out Hag, by me? thou shalt first be burnt, or goe to hell quick ere I act such wickednesse: sure all th' Iland hath been cosen'd in this woman hitherto, or now she doats, and the divel whom she hath so long commanded makes a foole of her.

I am sure we shud prove such, did we returne no other [Page] answer to the King, lets in after her and aske some other.

Agreed—Fire flashes out of the Cave, and hideous noyse. Fly, we shall be torne in peeces els, ther's no forcing of the Divell to speake.

I wonder that your Prince will consent to an enterview, the crafty tyrant does it only to gaine time.

'Tis well if it be no worse, for my part I feare some treason.

That can hardly be, ther's but two upon each side and they are to be searcht before th' Princes mee [...]; the place, a flight-shot from each Army.

Harke, th' triumph gives warning, they are setting forward.

Ha! doe I see cleare, the King and Philicia? 'tis she, what face but hers cou'd shoot such rayes and wound at distance? take heed fond man this, glorious comet wud never thus appeare but for thy ruin.

What were my joyes to see these eyes againe did not my happinesse finde checke from apprehension of my fathers comming?

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You see, most noble Adviragus we not exceed in num­ber although we vary in th' Sex; our son we did intend to have chosen for our ayde, but when we did consider his fierce and cholerique nature, ap­ter to make new wounds then salve th' old, we chose to bring our Daughter, equall interest'd in our love, nay crowne, for we have to the World made it known, since we have found him disobedient, that she shall share an equall portion of our State.

That net is spread.

But this is from our purpose.

I must not thinke so.

Tell me brave youth, wherein had I so ill deserved that you cou'd doubt performance of my promise, or did you thinke my meaning good, but that my sons unequall arrogance frighted me from perfor­mance.

Great King doe not beleeve I so much shud mistake your character, which by the World is easily read, to thinke you feare your son, a subject by a double ty, no, I must call my injuries your own, actions proceeding from a provident care to enlarge your State, rather to setle by a politicke way Pictland yours for ever, which force and tyranny for th' pre­sent had made you master of.

Had that been my designe, why did I save you when a child, and since? added each day new honors, nay wud have rais'd you to a happinesse above▪ your hopes [Page] in spite of him that envy'd your felicity, and arrogant­ly durst oppose a King, and fathers will, his malice might proove uselesse yet to breake our friendship? wud you confesse that you have erred, nay shud you sue for peace, we so much prize your love that you might almost make your own conditions.

Beware Sir, of these flatteries.

I must confesse Sir, what you have alleadg'd seem'd to be done, but well we both doe know, you ever, I of late, that there was wanting a reall soule unto these seeming kindness [...]s; your own advantages still mooving to what you did, and not my good or glory. Put then the services that I have done you in an e­quall ballance with what I ever did receave, and I am confident, I am noe debtor; and for your apt­nesse to embrace a peace, wud I confesse my error, be pleas'd to know I am not ignorant of my advan­tage in the Warre, nor in th' justice of my cause: both are so great that scarce can you propose conditions for peace so disadvantagious unto your selfe, that honor and wisedome will permit me to accept of; yet that I may declare a thankfulnesse for th' great confidence you have exprest of my faire meaning by comming armed thus weakely, and that this enterview hath some thing in it of no common strayne, I heare lay by all my advantages, nay more, oblige my selfe to stand to such conditions for a peace as this faire Lady, of your part sure, shall thinke fit to or­dayne.

I see it takes.

Me Lord, this is no obligation on my part tho you intend to make it such, for I must either ill requite [Page] th' honor, which you doe me, or prove my selfe an un­kinde Daughter: as yet having embrac't no power I likewise doe avoyde necessity or guilt, my part in this your reconcilement, must be no other then my prayers, and teares which shall be plentifull for the pros­perity of both; the' means to which your abler judge­ments must determine, and not I.

Daughter did all that see our persons heare our words, I shud commend this your reservednesse, but we both know th' passion of your soule, approve and glory in them, seeme not amas'd; what ist Kings cannot know concerning persons so considerable as you are both to me? that very night I found you in th' garden walk­ing, I could have intercepted you my Lord, my son Guimanthes informing me that you were there, and urg­ing me to kill you, which he had done by secret meanes had I not undertaken it, and form'd discourse with my Daughter of that I knew full well, so that you might by that have time to passe away unmarkt by any.

Almost this cunning does deceive even me, spite of my knowledge.

Those you Kil'd at the Garden-doore, for which the Law wud have condem'd you, I likewise knew off, but kept it from my son by whom they were set on to murder you: these acts, and his strange insolence have ren­dred him hatefull to me that if you will now lay down Arms, and fairely sue to be receaved my son in law, her Dowery shall be th' Principality of Pictland, in spite of him, and all that shall oppose it.

Me Lord, this proposition is neither safe nor honorable, let not love ruin you and yours.

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Thou doe'st awake me. Sir, I have thought, and finde, what you propose, honor and reason commands me to refuse: for to receave as dowry with a Wife, what I possesse both by a right of bloud and con­quest; wud show defect in judgement, and injure truth, but to expresse how much I prize this Lady, be she so pleas'd, heere from your hand I will receave her, and ever yeeld her homage for my Crowne, life and all my blessings, and to fill up my empty scale, to make the proposition weigh the better in your judgement, I freely will surrender what I possesse of your dominions, and serve you with my utmost ayde against all enemies that shall invade you.

Can my Father refuse this?

Honor that does command you to refuse Pictland a dowry with my Daughter, commands me not to grant it other wayes, for els it will appeare, you force both from me, making my Daughter the salary of peace, nor can I thinke what ever you pretend, that you yet love her, or she you: true love wud o're come these nice distinctions.

I feare this passion.

But since you are such temperate lovers, that when the warrantable joyes of Hymen thus temptingly in­vite ye, will not adventure stretching of a sinew, to reach the fruit, I am resolved never againe to pro­stitute my selfe unto your scorn devested of my wonted Majesty, no tho my owne and the whole King­domes ruin follows, in which I will secure thy punish­ment: justice commands that she, who wud not seeke to save the bloud of thousands, perish.

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Sir, ye are now too passionate, ther's no ground for this great alteration.

Nor wud I have thee thinke, yong man, these offers doe proceed from thy victorious Army: my present Forces equall thine, treble the number of thy victories; make up my fame, and I shall meete thee tho my haires be gray, wtih the first virgin honor that I won, which still adorns my crest, and shall doe 'till the hand of death sue a divorce, which must be bloody­ly disputed.

What shall I doe?

Either accept what I proposed, which was th' utmost ho­nor cou'd permit me, or by to morrow Sonne prepare for Battell.

Accept the Battell Sir, there is no trusting him.

This seeming passion may prevayle, and when I have him once, no ransome shall redeeme him.

O Honor, why shud'st thou thus oppose my joyes I can not either way resolve, nor is it fit I shud, she must dis­pose me whose I am; dearest Philicia lay your command upon me either way, and I shall glory in th' event, al­though it prove my ruin.

Of which rather then be th' author, I wud be strucke with thunder, at this present.

Speake, O speake Philicia! by our love I doe conjure ye

Yeeld then my dearest Arviragus.

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Hee's won.

I shall name, but to what?

To what? to what your safety, and your honour shall direct you.

Must we prepare for warre then? it seemes you give the sentence, and delight in blood.

So farre Sir, am I from it, that upon my knees I sue to both for peace, but chiefly to th' gods, by whom inspi­red, I now dare give advice; for three daies let a truce be sworne by either side, in which time all may be con­sidered, more maturely waighed, than on this sudden; Heaven that inspired me with this thought, may settle all your differences, which are not great, at least allow me means of flight.

What sayes Prince Arviragus?

I shall most willingly consent, and vow a sacred obser­vation on my part.

The like I sweare, for I to morrow shall know my fate in Battle, and my end, according to which I shall direct my actions.

O that I durst presume to kisse those hands! it wud ex­presse a fondnesse prejudiciall to us both.

His eyes shot beames of love into my soule; thou gen­tle power, grant mine an equall force, and let him languish with the wound, feeling no cure, like me, till w [...] againe shall meet.

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Farewell, my Lord, we'l send to treat.

Most willing—so parts the Sunne stealing behind a cloud, and shaddowes up the world in envious night; and day, I feare, will never breake so gloriously again: what killing griefs sease my heart from that considera­tion? how shall I suffer a long, perhaps an everlasting absence, a minutes time yielding this torment? I was too nice for termes of honour; Ile call her father back, and yeeld him all he can desire. Stay—thou fond man, she seem'd to injoyne me the contrary,

Who is divinely good and wise, obey her will,

Whose smiles can make thee blest, whose frowns can kill

Traytor, in thy despight, by thee—So said the witch, that I shud kill the King; 'twas a strange answer, and will appeare as strange for me to tell him; there's danger in't—true, if it were the insinuation of another, but when I my selfe shall tell him; I whom a loves, whom he hath trusted with many bloody secrets,—Secrets, and bloody ones; his character being rightly waighed, reason does tell mee, that rather shud increase, than lessen feare; to tell him that I do know his secrets, is but to prompt him to his safety, in my ruin, the dead can tell no tales without a miracle; be­sides all the large promises that he hath made me, in my death are cancel'd, and he stands free to worke another to his end by blasts of aire, for such his promises have prov'd to me—but stay, what shud I tell him? what she said? no, rather frame another answer, that will not [Page] doe, my brother heard it, and who in such a cause dare trust a brother or shud the King not like the answer, misdoubt, send or goe himselfe, or the dam'd witch informe him by a spirit, what death with tor­ments were I then to looke for? I tremble but to think on th', horror invades me every way.

How now brother, what troubles you?

What I shall nee're be free from.

Me Lord, what is the King my father doing? is he ready yet?

Yea Sir, he hath been talking with Eugenius this halfe houre.

Of what?

Trying to draw out of him by wily circumstances the maner of Arviragus ordering his men in Battell, what part he fights in himselfe, and all questions touching these points.

Sure he doats, will my father trust the counsells of the person of a man so discontented nee'r him­selfe?

For his person he cou'd not hurt the King, un­lesse [Page] with his eyes, he hath no weapons, and for his counsells that the King was not oblig'd to credit more then he found likely, in reason.

Goe see when th' King's at leasure, and bring me word here or in th' gallery.

I will Sir.

How tedious is it to expect a Crowne? how servill? for I am forc't to curbe my nature, dare not ex­presse my hate or love, unles it please my father: thus like a schoole-boy, doe I spend my best of time my youth, wherein we onely can tast true hap­pinesse; had I the Scepter in my hand, I rather wud adventure loosing it, then any pleasure that my youth desired, whereas my cautelous and wary father scarcely ever yet enjoyed a pleasure wor­thy of a King, doubt still attend his desires, nere once irregular, so fooling himselfe out of his joyes by being too apprehensive of th' ensuing danger. He truly doth enjoy pleasures that boldly acts sins, and els are only shares in the facts.

Adrastus most welcome, yet I know not, [...]hou hast some­thing in thy looke dismayes me, I feare thy message.

Yee have no cause, in private yee shall know't.

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All leave us, Sinatus, and Eugenius only may stay two roomes off, we must have further conference with them anon, but let not any presume to disturbe us till we call.

We shall be carefull, Sir.

Remember what I told you.

Feare not.

Now Adrastus we are alone, speake boldly.

Sir, I shall.

And truly on thy life what e're it be, yet Adrastus thou art to me as fate, and what thou shalt deliver is like the sentence of the gods inevitable, therefore if it tend to ill give me some little pause, that so my spirits recollected I may meet it like a King.

Why shud yee feare Sir? she you sent me to inquire of did ever yet foretell things happy.

'Tis true, and thou doest rayse me much with that re­membrance, speake then and joyfull things.

My brother Sir, and I according to your Majesties command, found out the Beldames Cave; at the mouth of which she met us, denyed us entrance, ask't our businesse and from whom, we told her all that you desired to know—she answerd for th' first your Army▪ shud the Battell gain.

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O happy newes blest Adrastus!

Not so, for in few dayes you must be slaine.

Ha! slayn [...] by whom?

Looke backe and see?

Traytors.

And 'tis true, now I am he, and fear in my dispite hath made me do't.

Oh, oh, Treason, traytors.

Dispatch, dispatch, so now 'tis don, hee's dead and all my feares in him.

We have been too hasty, my soule trembles at the object he was our King.

Ha? relenting? this must not be.

O brother your perswasions have made me miserable!

Ther's no disputing now, our safety and reward lies in our flight to Arviragus, had we not kil'd him, we had been sure to have died our selves.

[...]t had been better so, then beare the guilt I feele.

So conscience take thy wish.

Oh, Villaine, Traytor.

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Yes, I am so, but who knowes it now?

O th' gods.

Ha, what noyse was that? i'le shut this doore; Eugenius, and Sinatus may have heard my brother or the King when they call'd out: now can I but passe the port I am secure, that doore opens out of this Chamber, towards the gallery, so to the garden, how ever I am past retiring.

Come backe Adrastus, whether so fast? Why doest thou looke so gastly? wher's my Father? speake slave, what [...]loud is that upon thy Cloathes?

What shall I say?

Speake.

O me deare Lord! I am so much amased, horror tie [...] up my tongue, your fathers murthered.

Ha, speake that againe!

Your father's murthered.

By whom [...]?

Eugenius, and Sinatus, whom I have lock't in the next roome, and in the Kings rescue kil'd my own brother, who was assistant with them. O see Sir, where your royall Maister lies stucke full of wounds, wud the fa [...]es had tane my life a sacrifice for his.

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This sight doth more amase then grieve mee: call for th' guard, or stay heere rather; this Lord altho a coward ever may be an actor in this Tragedy himselfe, i'le shut him fast.

Ha, shut in: what means the Prnce? sure he suspects, 'tis [...]o and I am caught in my own [...]rain, utterly lost; what death with studyed torments shall I suffer? no passage out? O horror to remaine heere! no living men cou'd more affright me, 'tis paine above what justice can inflict; O conscience, conscience, dead so long, why dost thou quicken now? must I feele hell heere▪ in this life?

Make sure th' doores th' other way, and rather kill then suffer them to scape.

Ther's comfort yet; I feare Sir, they are fled out at the other doore, they tryed all means to breake this open.

Unlocke th' doores, and stand upon your guard, search all.

Ther's none Sir, in this Chamber, if they be not hid, the further dorre is open.

Then they are fled.

1. Wher's the Prince?

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Here.

Eugenius, and Sinatus sir, are taken by th' guard, as they were passing downe into the Court.

Villains, what was it that cou'd move you to a deed so horrid? for which, no punishment can be sufficient, and yet assure your selves to feele above what ever traytor suffered.

I am not so much affrighted, as amased, nor that so much as grieved to see my master cold and bloodlesse; Ad [...]a­ [...]tus there can be a witnesse of our innocence, who with his brother only entred with the King into this cham­ber, commanded us to attend till we were call'd, which we obeyed untill we heard a tumult in the court, some crying treason, and comming downe to know the cause, we were assaulted by th' guard, we made resistance, till we knew the reason of their violence; Sir, this is all that I am guilty of, and I believe him likewise innocent.

So do I too, but for my ends Ile not acknowledg it; beare off these traytors to the Prison, torture shall force them to confesse.

No Prince, it shall not, for me, I am not sensible of guilt from any other actions, but those wherein I thought to doe thee, and thy father service against the best of men, O Arviragus, heaven doth punish me, now innocent, for I was salfe to thee.

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You see, me Lord, the cause that moved them to your fathers murther breake forth in their despight, their love to Arviragus.

'Tis true Adrastus, nor shall your head stand long upon your shoulders, it only growes till I may cut it off with more advantage for my ends.

I scarce can understand this businesse.

I know not what we shud beleeve.

Looke on your fathers wounds, and let that stirre yee up to take swift vengeance; how e're they were th' in­struments, yet Arviragus gave the motion to their bloo­dy hands. O my deare. Master! shall Arviragus that bold traytor triumph in this ruin?

I wud revenge, but how?

I am inspir'd Sir, looking on your fathers wounds. Charg th' enemy this night with all your army, they are secure by reason of this truce, let my head pay the forfeit, un­lesse you doe the battle gaine. For by this hand the king is slaine.

I like th' counsell, tho not the giver; my fathers death brings some disorder Lords, but wil grow greater, known in our Campe.

THis I confesse, by your advice wee broke the Truce and charged the Enemy, obtain'd the victory, but by that bloody victory were so much weakened, we durst not keepe that field we were masters of.

I could not sir fortifie by Divination, the com­ming of the Danish Army; but be not sir cast down, what thoe? they of Scots and Wales, are hasting to your rescue, prompted by generall interest against the Dane our common foe.

How know you this? there's no Messengers ar [...]ived.

But reason, that should ever governe, does assure it; for should the Dane once settle here, those Princes soone would be subdued.

All this is politickly spoake, in the excuse of your pernicious counsell; had wee not broake the Truce, the Enemy so soone discovered to be landed, would have knit all in perfect friendship, then Ar­viragus had beene married to my sister, whose forces [Page] joyn'd with mine, and he commanding, victory had beene assur'd against the Danes, hee was their fate, where ere he moved against them, to take revenge upon our false-hood, which false-hood had its ground from thee, thou from the Fiends, from whence all false-hood springs

A does not sure allude unto the Witch, 'tis true, from her I had the counsell which I gave him for the Battle, curse on these Danes, could they stay till I were settled in his favour, at least, untill Sinatus and Eugenius were dispacht: [...]hu, there is not cause of feare, none but the Witch her selfe, who must seeme accessary, can discover me.

Still shall afflictions multiply, is there no end o [...] sorrowes, untill there likewise be no sence of joy? hard sta [...]e of mortals! thus our creation seemes vaine or unjust.

Artemia, doe not thus seeke to defeate the Gods of their delight, let them behold in you their greatest master peece, as by reflex their owne un­b [...]unded excellence, patience, and fortitude, these jewels never shine, but when they are worne; times of great sorrow, are those uncertaine solemne feasts, the powers themselves attendants there, and if wee by our patience relish what they have set before us, they want not power, nor will to turne those bit­ters into sweet, whilst wee beleeve that there are Deities, we must beleeve them just and mercifull, so innocence at last shall triumph.

Madame, what you have said, speakes you indeed divine, and such I ever have esteem'd you, [Page] but were you mould of the common clay with use▪ then you would wish you had neere seene the light, or soone to be eclipst to it: O my unhappy and much injur'd father, in spite of all their malice wee will dye together.

I hope for both a better fate, nor will I rest on hope alone, but use my utmost power, if it be possible, adde to your naturall artificiall beauty, and with your brother Guiderius present your selfe before the King, as hee goes to the Temple to sacrifice, who knowes? his hard heart may be moved to pitty you▪ at least if he from heaven expect it, for himselfe and State.

Madame I shall obey, and for Guiderius, your will gave life to all his actions, but now I feare hee is no more.

Ha; oh speake not that againe, least you be­come my comforter, as having griefs above you.

'Tis a sad truth, that I must tell you, no soo­ner did he see the Armie move, and heard it was to charge Prince Arviragus, but fetching a deepe figh, and looking up to heaven, as asking cou [...]sell there, he straight resolved to sacrifice his life to expiate our fathers fate, the way he's meant to doe it, was by giving notice of the Kings designe; how almost beyond hope, it is that hee should passe both wat­ches, or having past scape, when the King proved victor, I leave to your reason, mine tells me I shall never see him more.

Would I had no reason, 'twas a base wish, would I be freed from sense of suffering, where the cause is such, the danger of two persons so eminent in vertue, to whom my soule is tyed, by all the bands of love and honor; what tendernesse is this I feele fo [...] Guiderius? the danger of Arviragus, was, is for ought I know as great; no his strong arme and [Page] skill in warre will be his guard, unlesse Mars envi [...]us of his glorie, should take the oddes of might to conquer him, but for Guiderius, both unprovided and unpractised, what will become of him in such a bloody and disordered warre? but let us hope the best, that vertue and that courage that engaged him in so brave an act of friendship, hath▪ surely brought him off with safety; my prayers now and ever, shall attend him.

Madame it was his wish, that when ye came to know what he had undertaken, you would pray▪ for him, and if he perish, shed one teare, but then forget him, who alive, nor dead: would not with your least trouble, buy the greatest happinesse the earth could yeeld to him.

My noble Lord, although the wind set faire, I did not thinke your shippes had beene so ready for the Sea, to bring you hith [...], thus soone from Den­marke, is a most happy passage.

My sighs and vowes did emulate the wind, and fill'd my sayles, for who could stay behind in peace, having so brave and sweet a Leader to the warre? O tell me Captaine, how the divine Cartandes brookes, the British ayre, this place and people that she so deadly hates; does not their Genius backe returne malevolent aspects upon her personall health?

That were enough to eclipse the glory of our hopes, the conquest of this Ile could not be ballast with her losse of health, a day.

An houre, a minute, for shee is all that ever yet was excellent in either se [...]

And equall to such vertue hath her fortune [Page] beene since she arrived, for they not long since, were glutted with our blood, and sent our last dead Sove­raigne to his grave, with sorrow, for our shamefull losse, have now themselves just, as we landed, ruined by a civill strife, our terrour (Arviragus) being the cheefe that did oppose the King, and in the bloody Battle slaine, as some report.

This is the some of your proceedings, then.

Are they not brave and fortunate, promi­sing a happy issue, which that the God of Warre may grant, our Queene, and Leader, performes a vow she made upon her landing, which was to offer up to Mars, by way of Sacrifice, the first prisoner we should take upon the Ile.

It hath beene sometimes practised by most war­like Nations.—harke.—

'Tis th'Queene preparing to the solemnity.

There cannot be a better place for me to kisse her royall hand.

Cosin Oswall, most welcome, you have beene diligent, are all your ships well furnisht?

Not any thing defective gracious Lady.

'Tis well, bring forth the prisoners; Arviragus and Guiderius brought forth by two Cap­taines and Souldiers.

Mars grant that they be worthy of thee, the blood of cowards will prophane thy Altars—their formes are promising, how were they taken? did the manner witnesse their courage, which was first taken prisoner.

Both at once.

Though I shall boast the vigour of this arme, that did subdue the one, and he doubtlesse the braver man, yet briefly thus, the Battles having joy­ned, [Page] and thousād carkasses strowing the earth, or [...]a­ther swimming in the sea of blood, of which I must confesse I drew no part, I found this Gentleman with his sword drawne, warm'd and enraged with for­mer fi [...]ht, but that I set against his wounds some scratches, so that I count wee m [...]t on equall tearms.

Be breefe in your most terrible relation.

And please your Majestie there is not much behind, I tooke him prisoner without another stroake.

Or wound, but those he had before recei­ved.

Your Majestie sayes wondrous true.

This halfe-dead man cannot be worthy of our sacrifice, at▪ least untill recov [...]red of his wounds—which see performed with all your care.

Thankes heaven, O may I be excepted that am unusefull to the world.

Captaine, speake now how ye became a ma­ster of your prisoner.

Madame, not by a single arme, but multi­tude was hee orecome, nor yet could they have gain'd a victory, but that his care of his distrest and wounded friend, kept him▪ from traversing his ground, whose side hee never left, resolving an imbrace in death: this I with wonder and delight observ'd, re­membring of your vow to sacrifice, and knowing that the persons value most, makes the offering more ac­ceptable, I cast how to preserve that life he sought to loose, rather then quit his sword, and so resol­ving to receive a wound and close, it tooke the wisht effect, for whil'st I claspt him in mine armes, my Souldiers seaz'd his weapons.

Thankes fate, and thankes to valiant and carefull Aldred, thou brave young man, whose va­lour [Page] I admire, but must not pitty thy fortune, other­wise then as thou art borne in this cursed Ile, beare thy selfe, when thou comes to dye, as nobly as when thou foughtest to free thy selfe, and friend, and thou shalt have an Altar rays'd in a Queenes me­mo [...]y, on which perpetuall prayses shall be offered, to appease thy angry ghost.

Great Queene know, I should joy to be both Priest and Sacrifice to serve you; for those you come to take revenge upon, I hate above you, the treacherous aad coward King whom you besiedge; but since my desires as yours, tend to his, and his Kingdomes ruine, how can I be a proper offering to procure that blessing from great Mars? I blush least you should thinke I ur [...]e this from a feare to dye, yet all that have from▪ (nature) being, abhorre a dis­solution, but I durst dye, and boldly strengthned by powers that governe nature, yet I should grieve in death, to see so sweet, so brave a Queene, [...]o pious to the Gods, so farre mistaken, to draw downe vengeance by the abhomination of her Sa­crifice.

The powers who are, then wee more know­ing, seeme to have chosen you, nor dare we to in­fringe our vow; yet so much you have won upon us, that wee'l deferre performance of our vow some dayes, and then your friend and you, if he doe live, shall cast lots fo [...] your lives.

Though you intend this as a mercy, I would not be Monarch of the earth, abide the tryall—in Arviragus, three must dye—your selfe excepted beauteous Queene; know that I hate your Nation, defie your Mars, and all the powers you worship.

Ha.

O Impious.

Call for your Priest, and let your worst of [Page] torments seaze me, I mockt you when I sued for life, and yet death cannot yeeld a happinesse like that I l [...]ave behind in Arviragus and Philicia▪

Is this from feare or from contempt of dea [...]h, or growes it from a tendernesse of friendship? it must be so, and I will be resolved, before he dye.

Why are ye slow in execution? sure you doe feare me more then Mars, thus b [...]und.

Let's cut him peace▪ meale for this blasphe­mie.

Hold I command you, none dare to usurpe on the Priest office, your zeale is ignorance, this fellow that appeares [...]o brave upon the sudden, does it through cunning, or else is growne distracted from apprehension of the torments he's to suffer, if none of these, yet shall hee die, when hee desires it, no I will meete his cunning with the like, and what I find can most torment him, that he shall be sure to feele, beare him away to prison:

M [...]ke way there, cleare the Temple doores: what would this Lady? she must not now trouble the King.

I must and will speake to him—Traytor and [...]nurtherer: King, when thou kneelest before the Altar, and implores beavens helpe in thy di­stresse, thinke on Eugenius, whom unjustly thou hast doom'd to dye, else be assured thy prayers turne to curses, from me one plague thou shalt be sure of my father being put to death, I will unclothe my spirit, [Page] of t [...]is earth, which can by place be circum­scrib'd, then neither guard nor lockes shall keepe me from thee, but I will ever fright thy guiltie soule, till thou shalt wish like me a dissolution of thy parts, so to become lesse sensuall of tor­ment, yet by that error make thy plagues more horride.

What kind of▪ spirit's this, that gain [...]s pit­ty by threatning mischiefe?

Kneeles. Sir, with this Lady I must joyne, and to her sute adde good Sinatus pardon, pardon? I must not call it so, for should I move for them, yet thinke them guilty, I should become an accessarie to the murther of my father, no sir, for certaine they are cleare, I have beene with them both in prison▪ guilt seldome weares a confidence like theirs, when death's so neare, who usually plucks off the vizars from dissimulation, heare their cause pleaded by your selfe the judge; and if they prove not inno­cent, inflict a punishment for my presumption, equall to their fault.

Rise sister, I grant the sure. But now to you Artemia, thou hast gain'd a power so great, I wish my prayers to the Gods of equall efficacy—on the Temple.

How doubtfull stands my life and fortune▪ apparant danger circles me round, their innocence can no wayes rise but from apparancy of guilt in me, I tremble with the apprehension; the Sacrifice once past, the King may give command to keepe me prisoner till the tryall; ther's no argument why I should hope his favour, hee never lov'd me in his fathers life, and for his kindnesse now it comes [Page] by Sta [...]res, as from designe not flowing naturall, I am resolved, she that foretold me of the Kings fate, and his Armies likewise, can foretell something of mine:

Is the plate so ordered, that I may over-deare them, and yet they not perceive me?

I dare not say ye shall heare all, but much of their discourse, unlesse they whisper.

Then sure I shall be satisfied.

Sir, you oblige me every way.

'Tis the Queenes command there should be nothing wanting to the recovery of your health, nor if her vow did not constraine her, would she be so cruell to your friend.

That friend you mention sir, I should be glad to see, my losse of blood made me uncapable to know or thanke him, when hee did performe so much in my behalfe, the last passage of my life, that comes cleere within the compasse of my memory, was, that my horse lay so upon me, that I could not stirre, when I received this wound upon my head, ever since all presents it selfe with much confusion to me.

Sir, I will leave you to your owne thoughts.

Your servant,—who can this be, that had so great a courage, and so great a care to save from bondage unhappy me, that was within the jawes of death? perhaps Cleanthus, of all most faithfull, and it [Page] were no little joy to know he lives, but the descrip­tion I had since, and my then dazling eyes, perswade me it was a younger man.

This favour that I now receive, takes from the Queene all possibility of being hereafter cruell.

Ile leave you sir to a full freedome.

O my deare Lord.

Stay, is this a vision, or being reall, how shall I receive thee? thou art the same in show, as when thou wert faithfull,

Can Arviragus so much injure himselfe to thinke I could be false? friendship contracted, if on either side it fall, does yet condemne your judge­ment of the guiltlesse, that made so ill a choyse, but never shall you by my want of faith goe lesse in any circumstance of excellence, but still remaine the joy and wonder of all hearts that know you.

Shall I beleeve this? didst thou not with thy father, make a forfeit of thy faith, yet I might find a pardon from my love, and the strict obliga­tions of a sonne for that, but thou didst seeke to rob me from a treasure, dearer then my soule, in my Philicia's love, thy guilt augmented by the trust im­pos'd, and heavens that with thee only were the wit­nesse of our vowes, must in their justice, lay some heavy punishment on thy false head for ayming at their violations.

They cannot adde to what I suffer now, whilst you beleeve me false, and yet should I deny [...] love Philicia, it were to injure truth, of which she is the soule, but never can that love grow up to such a pitch, to injure friendship, the master passion, [Page] when this heart shall yeeld, althought that renders it unworthy of your love, this hand shall doe a hor­ride justice upon it, and the corrupted person, the mover of such treason.

False-hood may beare a brow as smooth as his; and words thus sleept in oyle, say were you not to have beene marryed to the Princes?

It was so beleev'd by all except our selves, but whilst they did prepare to wish us joy, we found onely in each others faithfulnesse to you, which on my part to witnesse, whom reason I confesse engages to suspition, 'tis fit besides the faith of friendship, I cleare my selfe by the same reason, that spotted me with guilt, for else friendship on your part by your suspect, seemes to have suffered, my father wrought on by ambition, a passion power­full with great soules, I had no power to change nor to forsake, for so I, his sonne leaving him, had added to the oppinion of his guilt, nor durst I, when come to the King, show an aver­sion; but as I hopt and prayed, as fast I had the meanes to let my father see his guilt, and by the ha­zard of my life (if friendship doe not claime the act) beg his forgivenes, who will die your faithfull ser­vant, in his behalfe I left the Citty, to warne you of the old Kings death, and that the new King, un­der security of the Truce sworne, meant to surprise you.

It must be truth.

Thus whilst impossibilitie forbad, my many obligations did command, but accidents crossing my good designe, I found you not till death had al­most seaz'd you, your senses fayling, where by the comming of a Troope of Danish horse, were made prisoners both to the faire and cruell Queene Car­ [...]des.

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O my Guiderius, thou hast told a story, that whilst I doe with joy and wonder heare, transforme me to the guilty person, that could suspect such faith and noblenesse, why did I thinke Philicias al­wayes true, and yet suspect thee to be false, I dare not say thy worth is more then hers, but thou hast left me farre behind, be not ambitious then of such a fame as will beget the envy of the Gods, and make the story of your friendship, when it shall be read, hardly beleeved, from the inequality of worth, the obligations all remaining on thy part, but in despight of partiall fortune, I will doe some­thing that may expresse I would not be ungrate­full.

What would ye doe?

Thou shalt not dye alone, this bloody and inhumane Queene, had wanted power to make a Sacrifice of thee, but that thy love to me unworthy, had for [...]'t thee dedicate thy selfe to death, but I will glut her barbarous soule that thirst for humane blood, no Sacrifice can be so proper for the Danes as Arviragus.

I doe beleeve indeed, that but to know they had you prisoner, would yeeld more joy to the whole Army, then Mars could grant them for being offered; but is your hate to me so great, that you would gratifie my murthers with their wish? it ra­ther would become your wisedome and your cou­rage (pardon so young a tutor) to ayme at liberty, by which you might revenge my death, and yet if yee doe finde, as I am confident ye shall, that pi­ty in the Queene strives with her piety to keepe her oath, let her not in a wish feele your revenge, 'tis fate then, you can onely quarrell with that, mark't me out the first that should be taken prisoner on the Ile.

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And therefore you must dye.

So fate appoints, which should ye [...]eeke to alter; you lay a taxe upon my fortitude, and wrong our friendship.

But if it shall appeare you have done this slily, usurpe upon my right, as being first, if not as soone a prisoner, the breach upon your part will show like arrogance, I having more yeeres practis'd the wayes of death with greater frequency, to arme me for the encounter; had you (as I did once suspect) attempted to supplant me, in Philicias love, from her perfections, I could sooner find excuses, then for this intrusion, her falshood could not taint my ho­ [...]or, but here in this rivality for death, if it be due, to magnifie a seeming friendship you stucke on me, the brand of fearefull coward, so yeelding up to chance or policy, that little fame that I have pur­chast, by my losse of blood.

O speake not this sir, your pure fame is mounted to a hight that slander cannot reach.

'Tis just, I now suspect your friendship, that dare injure truth, fame that depends upon the breath of men, [...]an neere be freed from its Creator; all we can doe to keepe it pure, is that the ingre­dients be made up of truth, and then the Gods ap­prove of our ambition: that sacred friendship be not injured; I am resolved, if you were taken priso­ner, first to glory in that confidence, which you shall show in death, and after if it growes within my power, revenge it to the full.

Not on the Queene.

That as you please, if I be found the proper Sacrifice.

You O sir, remember Philicia, you must not thinke of dying.

No▪ yes young man, and when I thinke upon [Page] Philicia, I am more ingaged, the Gods destroy not their owne Ordinances, nor bring us unto glory, or to joy, but by the wayes of vertue, honor they have appointed for the soule of all mens actions, and when I fayle in that, can they in justice grant me the continuance of so great a blessing, as Philicia's love?

But with what justice can you seeke to al­ter that, which truth and fate appoints for me?

Nor truth nor fate are manifest, untill the end of every action.

For friendship sake, for all the joyes that you may justly hope for in Philicia, discover not that you are Arviragus, for other right to dye I know you cannot urge, you so shall onely prove a mur­therer of your selfe, no wayes deliver me, which you intend; we both shall die, you in revenge of all the Danish blood, that you have shed, and I, to satisfie the vow.

No, I shall satisfie for both, their joy will be so great in their revenge.

Vaine men, how bootlesse is your strife, did not my owne particular passion sway to an ele­ction, both should be sure to dye, yet I am rapt with admiration of your brave and faithfull soules, as having over-heard much of your Stories, and that ye are so excellent, though it increase pitty in me for you, it must likewise inflame me in the exercise of my devotion to great Mars, for now it is apparant, not chance, but the Divinity, pre­pared fierce Arviragus for his altar, whose blood once spilt by us in way of Sacrifice, shall prove as fatall to this cursed Ile, as the Palladiums l [...]sse was to unhappy Troy.

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Heaven hath inspired you with their know­ledge, I am this Ilands fate, and in your power, the ruine of your nation, if I scape your hands.

Great Queene be pleas'd to thinke upon your vow, let not revenge injure your pity, I am the appointed Sacrifice; the way to conquer all this Ile, is to preserve this man alive; and by so great a fa­vour make him yours, he is the heart, the center of her loves.

Away with both to prison, all arguments that either yet have us'd to change me, turne to con­firmation of my resolution, so farre both are mista­ken.

ACT. II.

How dull and heavy are my spirits! the mis­chiefe that I doe, yeelds not the sweet delight, that I had wont to feele, how can they, being done by hal [...]es? my power grows lesse, some Planet governs now that checks my Art, and why? the number of my yeeres cannot set limites to my Masters power, great Lucifer must raigne for ever, and unto me whilst I have being on the earth, he hath promist me power by vertue of our contract, Ile question with my spi­rit—Ho, Eglon.

Here dread Mistris, what's your will?

Tell me why all the mischiefes I designe of [Page] late move slowly, or when effected yeelds me no pleasure as they had wont.

It onely growes from the distemper of your mind, sadness [...] possesses you of late.

It is not that my power is lessened? I am not obeyed.

How, not obeyed? ye are our Princesse fa­vourite, and hee is onely thought a happy Devill whom you employ, your power is without limite, speake but your wish, and in an instant 'tis perfor­med.

Remove this sadnesse from me.

The peace of soule growes not within our Region, for great minds scorne such calme poore things, proper for Heinds, tempests of soule befits those that have power.

I grant this true, but I would have a present calme, to set the glory of tho [...]e tempests off the bet­ter, let me have pleasing objects, Musicke, let every sence be glutted with delight, all that the world can yeeld, to please humanity.

Away, all these at once are troublesome, va­riety can onely please, that gives the soule to all we can possesse, begone and leave me wholly to my selfe.

Yonder she sits, although I feare to spe [...]ke to her, a greater feare comples me hither.

Ha, who art thou.

Grave Matron doe you not know me?

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Now I doe, what would you with me? speake your will.

She's gentle.—I come not now to know great Prophets, or Kings, but my owne fate.

Let me behold thee well, ha thou hast a dr [...]d. full looke, that does portend mischeefe to m [...], and to thy selfe.

To you.

Leave me, I doe beseech thee.

Be pleas'd to tell me first my fortune.

I dare not.

Dare not, how she trembles.

Be gone, or to the King I will discover you killd his father.

Thou badst me doe it, so shal't appeare as guilty.

I did not villaine, ther's horror in his looke, Ile call my spirits to defend mee from him, feare takes away my power, nor can I speake a charme.

Are ye conjuring? sure I shall be torne in pieces, speake, name my fate.

I will not—cannot.

No, take thine owne then.

Oh Lucifer, false Lucifer, thou hast deceived me—Dies.

Ha, can she be dead, she stirres, so now sure she is, and by her death I reape a greater bene­fit, then what I came for, the knowledge of my end, no creature now can say, I kild the King, vanish all idle feare: since I had power to kill this Witch, I will contemne all dan­ger.

O My Lord, you are well found, We follow­ed you with all the haste we could.

What would you with me?

The King commands to seize your person.

Ha—How suddenly my naturall feare returnes? Sure I am lost, My noble friends, 'tis true, his Majesty is for the present incenst against me, on a Mistake: Which, when I shall have time to cleare, my power will be greater than ever: I dare engage my life, his Majesty himselfe will give you thanks; in the meane time, accept these trifles from your servant, and say you could not find me.

O my Lord, we dare not, so we may answer for you with our heads.

Will you not oblige me?

Not at so deare a rate, believe it, your Honour much mistakes, to thinke to Bribe us from our Du­ty.

Well I will follow you.

O your Lordship is much the better man, pray lead the way.

I will not, I suspect you come to murther mee here in this Wood.

Doe's your owne aptnesse to doe mischiefe make you suspect us? come along my Lord.

I will not, by what authority can you compell me? you have no warrant.

Yes—this seal'd by the Kings command, and this shall force you to his Presence, dead or alive.

There is no remedy—, I dare not fight with both; Honest Captaines, I doe commend your Faith; my in­nocence from any crime, and the Kings Justice, armes me with confidence, how ere I made a shew of feare; [Page] and what I offered as a Bribe, I now reward your truth and Noblenesse. Withall, two officers, and neither will take bribe, shewes slander, and not truth doth brand your Tribes.

Thou Deity of Love, then natures selfe more powerfull, I find thy worke in my soule, even to the change of al my faculties, choller that from the smal­lest sparke occasion gave, wood in an instant grow a flame unto my trouble, and my friends confusion, is by the gentler fire of Love extinguisht quite, and I am pleas'd in nothing more than to forgive my thirst for Arviragus blood, is likewise quencht, my burning Lust changed to a heat ltke that which brings the Vo­tary upon his knees before th'Altar, for 'tis in vaine to hope till I become in some proportion good to be in­corporate with her that is the Essence both of Vertue and of beauty.

See where she comes, divine Artemia, joy in that mour­ning habit, the outward witnesse of your piety, and this day weare it, till you see intomb'd all the unruly pas­sions of my soule, their deaths is as great a Trophy to your beauty, as those perfections are to nature; but this day past, unlesse you would againe destroy what yee have made, which were unnaturall, lay by these mourning weedes, Emblemes of sorrow, which ill be­fits her that commands a Prince.

I know not Sir how I have gain'd that power, Nor can I credit whilst my Father is a prisoner.

By this hee is not so, or if hee bee, dan­ger shall keepe as great a distance from him as this [Page] heart, which I should be more carefull of, were it by you acknowledged yours.

I should bee unnaturall in the refusall, were I assured of such a simpathy, for nothing can be dea­rer to me then his safety.

Time shall not number many dayes, ere I re­move all possibility of doubt how much I love you: and sister, that you may assist to give her all assurance, Sinatus likewise shall bee freed, whom I am confi­dent, you love for Arviragus sake, as well as his owne Vertue, nay bee my turne, Ile leave both to the free­dome of loves.

Is it possible wee should expect such blessing from you?

Sir I confesse I cannot doubt you.

Nor I then, of happinesse more than the world besides, Ile straight give order for brave Adrastus pro­ces, Whom I doe more now then suspect did kill my Father, the forme of law to satisfie the world, must not be neglected, let your good wishes guide mee in the service I intend you.

O deare Artemia, all this is counterfeit, lust prompts him to dissemble, hoping so to gaine his ends on thee.

I doe with griefe believe it, for I confesse I doe not hate his person, but his vice.

The love to Arviragus he profest, cal'd all in question: Arviragus thou art I feare above his ma­lice, and doest from heaven laugh at his cunning falsehood, if on the Earth, may thy good Genius keepe thee farre without his reach, his malice is immortall, cannot cease, till vice and Vertue make a peace.

O Gracious Lady the saddest newes.

Speake Sir, I know we are round beset with mi­series, but say from whence the storme breakes▪ first up­on us.

From Arviragus death, the best oF men.

Oh.

Though yet 'tis true he is not dead, 'twere vaine in me to seeke to comfort you, his fate is so certaine, hee's taken by the Danes, design'd for sacrifice, and they to him have so much cause of hate, that should the Gods command the contrary, of that they seeme to have de­creed, and all mankind ioyne in the suit, they would not save him.

O 'tis too certaine, ill newes is seldome false; but how came you to this unhappy knowledge?

One of the Danish Centinels was taken prisoner, that declares this.

Rumours are often false.

This is too true, withall hee tels us of a youth, which strives with Arviragus which should dye, and paints him forth so lively, both in the bravery of his mind, and beauty of his person, that sure it is Guiderius your Brother, and my beloved Kinsman.

Ah me, my Brother, poore Guiderius, my soule presaged thy ruine.

Though Arviragus danger fill my heart with sorrow, yet I am bound to offer this addition, and sure my heart grows deader then it was, although not from encrease, yet from the assurance of my misery, beyond which, what a mockery will it be to live my Brothers scorne? besides, I must endure, for wee'l his large pos­sessions show, he knew of this before: I am resolv'd, as yet I have done nought but▪ take a little to expresse I loved, they bleed and bleed, yet I am idle: Artemia thou seemest strucke dead with the sad newes, it hath shot it selfe quite through thy tender soule, and well such sorrowes do become thee thus melt thy self away.

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Great Mars; behold the sacrifice thou didst ap­point, before thy Altar stands, and from the Vally of th' offering, poure downe a blessing on thy Votarie, and these assistant, this is that man for whose sake thou so long hast frownd upon our Nation, making this Ile a Sepulcher for Danes, be reconciled wee be­see [...]h thee, and accept our Vowes, let vs by him obtaine Revenge against our foes, and a full Con­quest of this Land, halfe ruinated by their Civill strife.

Omnes Great Mars, we doe beseech thee grant her suit and ours.

Have at thy heart bold Pict.

Strike thou inhumane Tygresse.

I have no power to strike (I cannot) sure some Divinity holds backe my hands, on the sudden does in­spire me with a true knowledge of his will, whispers to my soule, the way to be revenged vpon our Saxon for, and gaine the Ile, is to preserve this valiant Prince, the favorite of Mars, still I am prompted to this thought, and now me thinkes even Mars himselfe, did he appeare unto our humane eyes, could not com­mand from me a greater reverence; doth not an aw­full Majesty shine round about him? it doth, and I am impious to strive so long against a heavenly inspirati­on: For what but a Divinitie would change, could change the mortall hatred I bore to Arviragus, even in the instant, whilst I long'd for his hearts blood, which now shall bee the first of all my faculties, em­ployed to serve him.

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The Queene is certainely inspir'd.

What shall I thinke of this? am I not mock't?

Receive this sword, and if you find this my respect not reall, then take revenge by making me a sacrifice,—and now to you my valiant Soul­diers, for my sake, for obedience to th' Gods, Whose substitute I am, and so best know there will convert like me, your hatred to this Prince, to such a Love, as may beget perfect obedienee, and in reward, I in the name of Mars, and all the powers assure your wishes: but lest there should be some, inward soules cannot as yet conceive or relish this our present happinesse, but must make reason the sole foundation of their Faith, as scorning all superiour or misterious working of the Gods, even unto such wee yeeld what they desire sufficient reason for our present act.

What shall I thinke of this?

How nere was your last King my Brother, to the master of this Ile, When Arviragus, then a youth, gave check unto his many Victories, making it known then first, the Danes were not invincible, for till that time, ten Danes, where ere they met, would chase double the number of the Ilands, but now his vertue hath so shot it selfe through all the inhabitants, he be­ing their leader, that we have onely landed to bring our lives and goods as tribute, and as Trophies to in­rich his fame: it is apparent then, that all the force, and vertue lay within his powerfull arme, nor can wee doubt of victory, having those strengths applied in our behalfe that was so prevalent against us, and for his faithfulnesse to us, we cannot doubt, the Saxons have betrayed him▪ in reward of all his favours, we for a thousand mischiefes hee hath done, not onely grant him life, but leave our owne to be disposed of by him.

What the divinity commands, and you inform, it is our duty to obey.

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Your vertue and your Wisedome, divinest La­dy, governes our wils as persons.

Our happinesse is chiefly plac't in you, and fit you should appoint the way unto it.

Then here with the consent of all, wee doe commitful power touching the War, to him that hither, to hath beene the great disposer of it.

Wonder thus long hath seal'd my lips, and though necessity inforce me to speake, it l [...]ss [...]ns not my admiration, if your intent be reall, as reason yet infor­ces me to doubt, I must not undertake that power you would conferre, but upon these conditions, first that all Picts, be free and sharers in your conquest, next that all Saxons, who shall yeeld themselves, whole ci­ties or particular persons may bee received as friends unto the Danes, and me their generall▪ this granted, I receive my charge, and vow by the immortall. Deities, perfect obedience to her▪ whose bounty gives me life and power to right my selfe on these, whose falsehood sought to take it from me.

This we must grant in reason, your Picts wil be no little strengthning, and for such Saxons as shall yeeld themselves, they are as yours, and worthy of all favour, tremble false King, 'tis not thy City wals can defend: the ports will open flye, if Arviragus once approach their eye, whose hearts he doth command.

Shee is not fairer then Philicia, nor doth her mercy shewed to me, and Arviragus expresse her soule more noble, why then should shee be entertain'd with willingnesse to rule this heart, wheras my reason, Ver­tue, all my faculties, where ever summond up to [Page] make resistance, gainst the assaults made by Philicias merits, but here how pleasing is the wound, how sweet the Bondage, why is it so, unconstant that I am, how ever friendship, so Vertue barr'd me the expressi­on of my love in earnest, or any wish to be beloved a­gaine, yet so much of my heart was allowed for passion to a woman, my secret Vowes and inclination inga­ged it to Philicia, and that for ever, yet now, false that I am, I feare I love Cartandes better, thus I am made by doubt unworthy, so much as respect, from either. Love is above mine hope, as farre as I am below them in merit: Even Arviragus selfe, a Prince, whose worth and fame's, so great, that conquers whilst a Captive could not deserve the love of either Philicia or this Queene, by lesse engagement then his heart entire, and shall I dare to offer mine by h [...]lves, a sacrifice to them and love? Pardon thou Deity, tis not want, but ex­cesse of Love, begets irresolution, which time and ver­tue will decide, that done:

This happinesse by much exceedes our expe­ctation, resolving to be taken prisoners, wee find all freedome in the Campe.

It is true, nor is there any fear of Arviragus being sacrificed, but rather there are Altars raising unto him as to a God, by this is evident the power of Princes.

Rather the power of vertue, whose eminence in Arviragus compel'd this Queene spight of her vow, and former hatred, to save his life, and yeeld all power into his hands, and though her own ends I must think, did move her chiefly, she does deserve from me all love and service.

Let all avoyd this place, the Queene is com­ming hither.

Sir, may it be permitted to a stranger only to see the Queene?

You may as she passe by.

Many thanks sir.

Most Noble Arviragus, we now begin to taste our selfe the sweetnes of the mercy show'd to you, for by the vertue of your person and command our Army is encreast, men and all provision above your wish and delight, since it proceeds from you: and for this Gentleman your friend, an attribute which does include all worth, we likewise hope he will beleeve ther's no favour we can grant, but we shall thinke we doe our selfe an honor, in conferring it on him.

Great Queene, he that does hold his life by your free guift, should show he scarce beleeved a thanks were due, if he in words should thinke to pay the debr, fortune may yeeld a danger worthy the un­dertaking some action, that may try a heart devoted to your service, then if my acts speaks not my gra­titude, let me be scorn'd by your divinest selfe, & ha­ted by that friend, for whose sake you esteeme me.

We doe beleeve more then you can expresse, and must desire you in the same kind, will oblige us too: Prince Arvigarus, we must desire a private con­ference with you, touching astaires of importance.

I wait your Majesties command.

Worthy Cleanthus, what happinesse is this we doe injoy above our hopes?

How much the working of the heavens exceed [Page] our apprehensions, that when we thought destruction neere, their providence had so prepared, to make the Battles losse, the meanes of greater happines.

It was no little blessing, but to know that there was such a Queene, a Lady of so brave a mind, so beautifull a person, but then to have the meanes to know and serve her, is a happinesse above all else the world can yeeld.

I am not knowne to Arviragus, or Guiderius, nor doe I thinke I ever shall be, not to my selfe, I feare Philicia is not what she was, for is it possible I can be jealous of Arviragus faith to me? I am not jea­lous, 'tis a just feare, begot by reason the beauty of the Queene, her power, her merits all applyed to him, in the most noble way, besides the rumour that seldome is a friend to innocence, had reason on 'ts side to render me inconstant, my marriage to Guide­rius, how strange a turne is this in fate? I came to die for Arviragus, having first reveng'd his blood upon a barbarous Queene; but now a Queene to cour­teous, and a living Arviragus, kill all my joyes, and leave me not the possibility or measure of revenge, for if he judged me false, as sure he did, he is not so, although he love Cartandes, who then is guilty of my miserie, Philicia or her cruell fortune? fortune if it be thou; 'tis but thy usuall practice, but if my jealou­sie doe prove unjust,

The affaire we are to treate of in which you are to give your counsell and assistance, concernes the life, honor, and happines of one I highly prize.

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The least of these engages all my powers.

I Pray view that picture well.

It is a face I have been well acquainted with, or rather one that's not unlike it, sure 'tis not mine, it cannot be, if so, how came she by it?

Doe ye not know the face?

Madam, 'twere arrogance to thinke it mine, considering where you kept it.

Be not a greater friend unto civility then truth: were it not Arviragus picture, I should as much containe my selfe for wearing it, as I doe honour him, I see ye are amaz'd, and ye have cause, bee pleas'd to sit, whil'st I relate a story, that will un­riddle all my actions, and chase this wonder from you.

Madam, I shall with such a reverence hear­ken, as if a Deity would to a curious mortall unsha­dow some much covered mysterie.

And in the plaine and simple dialect of truth, Ile lay my heart naked before you.—When to my brother still, the sad newes came of such de­feates as here his men received, (and you the Authour) his hate to you unjustly, did not grow so fast, as my esteeme waranted by vertue, since what you did, was in defence, both of your Prince and Countrey, yet the first sparkes of love, tooke fire from emulation, wishing my selfe a man, that in a combat I might loose ray life, or take from you those glorious spoyles, that even your enemies were forc't to dresse you in that thought, though vaine, yet prompted to a curiosity more fruitfull, which was to see what forme he bore, that in his acts of courage and humanity, so farre ex­ceed all, and this was by obtaining your picture sa­tisfied, but from that satisfaction grew so great a flame [Page] that emulatious curiosity were lost in it, and now it was no wonder, that the substance, by that sha­dow represented should conquer all, when my proud heart was made a captive from the sight of it: to hide this love, I often was obliged to heare my bro­thers curses, uttered against this Ile and you, nor did I sticke at last, to faine a hatred equall to his, which he beleeving reall, at his death engaged me in a promise, of passing with the Army then in rea­dinesse into this Ile; appointed that inhumane sa­crifice to Mars, for good successe, the unhappy lot fell on your friend and you, and by my cunning, no other inspiration of a Deity, then that of love, you were preserved, nor can I thinke indeed, that any other is so powerfull, since it h [...]th made me, whom Kings have sued for, thus to relate the pas­sions of my soule, and seeme to beg releefe from one my mercy hath preserved.

Let such a faith, and such a reverence as wee doe bring to heare an Oracle, cleare me of vanity, though I beleeve the story of your fore past love, which by another told, would seem a fable invented to abuse a credulous eare, but reason, which justly circles me with wonder, assures me, that by this you see the power of fame and fancy, and quickly will releeve your selfe from their abuse.

How meane you by that?

This shadow hath some resemblance, but marke well, and you shall find the Painter gross [...]ly flattered; but fames abuse, y [...]ur selfe can witnesse be [...], she to your eare alwayes delivered me a Con­querer invincible, drest in the spoiles of others, but when truth shall informe how you have ever seene me, yet fame showes a lowder lyer then the Painter, the Battles losse, after the which, I proved a priso­ner, justly takes from me the opinion of a Leader, [Page] suffering my selfe to be surprized, and beaten by an enemy, which I cōtemn'd; but could you see my mind, which doubtlesse, you beleeved compos'd of vertue, how much I am defective, what falshood I am guil­ty of, how subject to ingratitude, even where I have beene most obliged; you then must make ano­ther judgement, and with reasons helpe conclude, that I am rather worthy of your scorne or pitty, then your love: fame having played the Mountebancke, and I although not guilty, yet the mature subject of her falshood, that worthlesse peece, for which you were to pay your heart; a Iewell which all the ver­tue, fames and excellence of the world cannot with­out the free addition of your bounty purchase.

You that ta [...]e fame of falshood, should your selfe feare to undergoe that censure, the world testi­fying upon her side against you, but for your secret faults, 'tis true the conscience is a thousand witness [...]s, if not, I do already see so farre, I durst condemne you for ingratitude and folly, since you refuse a tender of that heart you so much magnifie, yet it had beene a greater injury to love, a greater torment to my selfe, to have conceal'd longer a passion justifiable to the world, since placed on him whom all love and ad­mire: but having thus breathed forth my passion, enlarged it to your knowledge, I hope I shall (un­les you joyne) in time, w [...]thdraw much of the fewell that maintaines loves fire, and with the generall world admire your vertues onely.

She's gone in passion, and with me shee leaves no little portion of her trouble, I wish her hate to me had not beene counterfeit, the sacrificing knife could not have caus'd a paine like the distraction I doe feele, from the rela­tion of a love so Noble, whose every circumstance addes luster to the owner, and layes an obligation [Page] Vpon me, the object of that love so great, that time, torment, nor Death cannot deface, and yet I must not love her as a Mistresse, that were not gratefull, but in­jurious, since breach of faith unto Philicia must ren­der me unworthy, and she deserves the best blessings humanity can yeeld—

ACT. III.

Sinatu [...], whether shall we believe this our en­largement in the prison, to see and speake with who we please, is granted as a farewell to the world, or a prologue to prepare a way for a full feedome both of our persons, and from the slander that hath lane so heavy on us.

Doubtlesse my Lord, our inno [...]ence is known, Adrastus questioning declares no lesse, to whom if they doe offer t [...]rtures, as it is reported, upon my life hee will confesse, though it should cost his head, cow­ards so apprehend the present paine, that it con­founds their present judgement, to force a future, al­though greater.

How ever, should we dye, since innocent, that griefe will not be balanc't by the joy, to know our deaths shal be revenged by Arviragus, who hath ful [Page] powers both of the Danish Queene, and her most pu­issant Army, feare of our danger makes our present usage better, not that the King can change his eruell nature, his smile I ever must suspect as dangerous, un­lesse I could forget who was his Father.

I must confesse I doe not thinke him the best of men, yet till his envy to Arviragus grew to a hight, he was a hopefull youth, and aim'd at generosity, but being of a haughty Spirit, and over-mastered by the others merits, he scorn'd it seemes to be a second, and therefore chose a different way, though much the worse, perhaps those sparkes of vertue are but smo­thered: not put out, and ill successe in vice, a mercy in the Gods may make them yet breake forth a glori­ous flame, to warme each subjects heart with ioy, may I but live to see that day, I might conclude him Vertuous, although I died the next, it would not grieve me.

I must confesse 'tis piety in you that are his subiects, to hope and wish this, but as for me that am anothers in heart, and by my birth, with whom it is impossible hee can be reconcil'd, I cannot wish him so much happinesse to grow better, 'Tis impossible his thoughts are now b [...]t on a base designe, the ruine of my daughters honour, before attempted, and doth he thinke that heaven, and a Fathers eyes pierces not through all clouds, that by his cunning can be cast be­fore us?

In all your feares, I hope yee are mistaken, we must allow to man, repentance of his ills, or else the powers must want that attribute of mercy which they delight in, and by the which, they are most mag­nified.

I will againe peruse them ere I yeeld beleefe to either. My fathers letter first.

Can there be any thing in this other, knowing the falshood of the man, knowing from whom it comes, to hinder my obedience, to this warning of my fa­thers? yes, there is pleasing falshood in it, this though all reason speake it truth, 'tis a hard text, but yet must be obeyed; which that I may, in pieces I will [...]eare this charme, and yet it were but fit, that I againe should read it, so in mind to register his falshood, which may incite me to a full revenge, for all mine and my fathers wron [...]s, when time shall grant us power: 'tis better teare it, yet no, I must read it once againe.

Decrest Artemia, in so great passion! what [Page] guilty paper is it you punish?

I should my Lord perhaps have spared the pa­per, had the sender bin as innocent.

It was my feare—Takes up the pa [...]ers. Can ye be faithlesse yet? oh love, how false thy comforts a [...]e: when shall I dare to hope a re­compence, when yet my sufferings have not gain'd beleefe?

It were preposterous, nay impossible, for the effect to be before the cause.

What cruelty is this to speake, as if you could beleeve I could not love?

It were a cruelty unto my selfe, greater then you can name, to wish you should.

Why should a Princes love be so offen­sive?

A Princes love next that to heaven, is it all mortals covet, nay most fix, there, and looke no further: but as the purest things, if once cor­rupt, become of meanest valu [...], so Princes favours, which are onely seemings, not firme and reall in their substance, are like the deadlyest poysons to be shun'd, especially by women, but I am arm'd by former wrongs, so fortified against your vowes, that could you by your showes of passion deceive the Gods, and so ingage them as the sureties of your faith, I rather would flie off from their obe­dience, as ignorant defective powers, then yeeld unto an amity with one that's opposite to all that's true, or noble.

It is against my will that I am opposite to truth or noblenesse, for I would [...]aine an interest in your selfe, so to [...]articipate of all perfection, nor could I thinke, for such a purchase my Crowne could be too deare a prize, if you which yet you not beleeve, should not become a looser by it, and [Page] know cruell Artemia, if neither time, nor yet the services I shall doe, can make you see the truth of my affection, I will like you grow marble; be more cruell to my selfe then you can wish, my heart which whil'st I love you I must cherish your picture, being there inshrin'd, shall from the madnesse of my pas­sion and despaire, bee ript before you, that you there may read unjust suspition fooled you to a deed of horror, whose guilt shall make you ever wret­ched, this by the sacred powers, I will performe.

Can this be yet dissembled?

But if you can looke on me with the eyes [...] reason, and that produce a pitty of my sufferings, thinke but how welcome will such mercy be, and my poore heart scortch, with the beams, that shoot from those bright eyes, shall like the parched earth sucke up the heavenly comforts you let fall, then shall you glory in my faith, my gratefull soule unto [...]t selfe record, the sweetnesse of your pittie; from, and to both will rise a spring of joyes, which shall [...]or ever flourish.

If I be mistris of that power which you pro­fesse, it will not be ill manners though I leave you.

But there is in it much of cruelty unlesse you bid me love, that I may live.

Doe justice to my father and Sinatus, which is to cleare them, and when you returne, I will pro­nounce your sentence, if ye be mine so much, as you professe, I am to signe your passe-port to the Elisium shades.

'Tis not to be denied, for your must there become the matter of my blisse, without you that Paradise were hell.

What answer will it please your Majestie to give the Herald, who from the besieged King desires safe conduct for an Embassadour?

What answer will I give, why knowes not Oswa [...]d, on whom I have confer'd all power? let him attend Prince Arviragus.

To make your selfe a stranger to a businesse of this nature, were to forget your safety.

Oswald, to teach your Princes is to forget your duty; when Arviragus shall neglect or injure me in what he stands en [...]aged, let the Gods likewise cast me from their care, for rather let me perish, then mistrust his vertue, go and attend his will, we would be private, Guiderius you may stay,—

I shall attend your Highnesse.

Arviragus faith's engaged unto another, and that's the cause, hee entertaines my love, with so much coldnesse; his answers all were sharpe civili­ties: Ile see i [...] I can from Guiderius attaine a perfect knowledge, if I be not mistaken he can hardly deny me any thing, nor does he nor any know more then by guesse, that I love Arviragus.—Guiderius, if Arviragus doe consent, who doe you thinke the King will send to treat, or what may we conceive will be his message?

Madam, both are beyond my meane conje­ctures.

Rather ye are reserved, wee should have an­swered you with greater freedome.

Madam, I shall be miserable, if you beleeve I should not glory in obedience to your least com­mands, more then in being master of all other [Page] power that did not tend unto your service.

Certainely, you Picts and Saxons have a custome of professing, and never feare you should be taken at your word, we Danes are rude, but yet more faithfull, scorning to speake but what we wish should be beleeved.

Were it the use of others, yet it is not so with me, or were it, you are a Divinity, to whom I durst not speake or seeme, but what in truth, I am one that beleeves no blessing like your fav [...]ur.

How shall I trust this? suppose that Arviragus should enjoyne one thing, and I the contrary, your friendship unto him, would make you unto me prove disobedient, see then how farre your protestations are above your power or resolution.

I know that he's so much yours oblig'd by all your favours, that when he knew what were your pleasure, he soone would cease to have a will, other then what should waite on yours.

Since you evade this supposition, as you thinke, I will a little vary it; put case you have a Mistresse, rather your friend, for I esteeme you one, this Mistresse does command you, or your friend, what I approve not, how then shall you obey, without the breach of faith?

When you shall make me happy by com­manding, I shall not lose that blessing by my diso­bedience.

It seemes onely your friend then hath a Mistris.

Madam, that does not prove he hath, that I have none, whom I dare stile so.

This your equivocation makes me now in earnest, and shall no longer save you from falshood, or disobedience.

What meanes the Queene?

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Did Arviragus ever love?

He hath.

Whom doth he now love best.

That's more then I can say, since hee hath seene an Argument so powerfull to beget a change.

Doe you beleeve my beautie is so great, [...]o stagger such a faith as his?

Madam, I have cause, and yet I judge that beauty the least part of your perfections.

It would be no little happinesse I see, to have that person I should love, receive my Character from you.

Not from my flattering tongue, but could my heart be read, and that he might equall the patterne of respect there set before him, there were no other cause of feare, but an offence against the Deities, by your rivality with them, witnesse by your devotion of your victory.

Does all of your Country speake in this obli­ging way?

All that speake truth, and speake of you, can say no lesse.

Ile try the conversation of some others, and if I finde them such, still when I would be flat­tered, I will admit of none, but those borne in this Ile.

Indeed, the policy would not be ill, for by conversing, you might conquer without blood­shed.

Why, doe you thinke I should so oft be in your humour to be flattered?

It were not in your power to be so, if all like me spoke but their thoughts, 'tis not the hea­rer, but the speaker makes the flattery, no more can you be flatter'd when I prayse, then when wee pay to heaven our best devotion, since [Page] truth, but with some difference gives to both their motion.

But yet I must not thinke you by this oyly way, obtaine so strickt a friendship with Prince Ar­viragus.

Certaine no other, how-ever you are pleas'd to terme it, for how can friendship knit without pro­fessions be made really, or they but where there's love, and faith, and love to entertaine those offers, then does two soules unite, from whence doth rise to Gods and men, such joyes, as none can speake, that have not entertained the blisse of love or friend­ship, those I count on, yet love the more refin'd, as being that great happinesse the wise Creator made for us, but friendship betwixt man and man, hath some defects, which proves it is our owne ele­ction.

It seemes a friendship then twixt you and me, or rather Arviragus and my selfe, for the equality, would give a luster, might raise much happinesse to us and others? I see this moves you by this silence, seeme to contradict what you proposed, as the most happy amitie, are we not man and woman, equall in birth, in worth as I doe gather from your praise, and love to both, why then should we not joyne in perfect friendship?

Vertue may command the contrary, you are perhaps engag'd.

To none so much as him.

If he were free when first he saw you, it is impossible but in his soule he b [...]gs this honour, you propos'd, if well observed, you by his sighs and sad lookes, emblemes of pure devotion, shall soone per­ceive your selfe the Saint that he adores.

I yet am ignorant, what kind of sighs or sad lookes you doe meane.

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Like those you may observe sometimes in me.

But you professe to have no Mistris, so yours and consequently his must needs be conterfeit, nay so is all mankind in their professions, which since I know, have not so meane a thought of me as to be­leeve the least of what I spoke for earnest, yet thinke not but I highly prise Arviragus merits, nor am I ignorant of yours, or the respect you pay me, but as for love, my breeding in the Warre, hath frigh­ted from me such soft things, unlesse as now I enter­taine discourse of it, to set off glo [...]ious Warre in the full luster, this siedge growes tedious, I wish,

This confidence the Queene expresses in Ar­viragus, makes evident she dotes in love, how ever she pretends onely a respect due unto his worth, there is no question she will marry him, and we shall all become his slaves.

My Lord this language ill becomes your duty, [...]or is it wisedome in you, 'tis not the neerenesse of your blood that could excuse you from the Queenes anger, and justly should the greatest punishment fall on you, that are ungratefull for the blessings we re­ceive by Arviragus government.

Most certaine, we are all most happy in our Generall

You are all most happy in the gift of flattery, [Page] and ignorance, I could almost wish what I feare, that we might be betrayed, to have you punisht, for my part I beleeve that Arviragus and Sinatus, the Kings Embassadours, are in their secred counsell, setting downe the ruine of the Danes, which is as easily wrought, as to reconcile the Picts and Saxons, a wondrous worke indeed, since all of one Ile and faith.

O my Lord, your feares are vaine, ther's nei­ther will nor power.

The will is apparent, by the secret conference, although the Queene her selfe refused to heare the Embassadour, yet why were we her Counsell nor admitted, but all negotiated in private, as if the Danes, were not concernable, because a Pict is Ge­nerall.

But if that Pict be in his vertue, judgement without his equall, and have engaged his honour for our safety, what should we feare, but lay those by, yet there are other tyes to bind him fast, a King­dome, and a Queene, the very hope but of posses­sing whom, is more then to be a Monarch of the earth besides.

Oh.

This pinches my Lord, whose vanity doth make him hope one day to get the Queene and Kingdome for himselfe, that hope thus crost, begets these murmurings against the Queen and Arviragus.

Most certainely it doth.

When I have made these propositions known unto the Queene, an answer shall be sent unto the King, in the meane time no hostile act must passe on either side, on forfeit of our honours.

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'Tis our agreement, which shall be observed.

How narrow is the path I am to tread, I have engaged that faith now to Sinatus, that to Cartandes was engaged before—and I must injure neither, nor shall it need, yet make my selfe most happy.

Now Cleanthes.

Sir there is a Pictish youth, that hath beene most importunate to speake with you.

What is he?

He seemes by many particulars which he tells, to have beene long acquainted with me, yet I con­fesse I cannot call him to memory, but sure hence­foreward, I shall not forget him, he is every way so singular: will you heare what he would say? and I dare almost promise, what so ere it be, you shall be pleas'd with him, if not with it.

Bring in this rarity.

I shall sir.

A lovely youth indeed, yet but one eye, na­ture it seemes, fearing she had bestowed too much perfection upon one, to pacifie her injured chil­dren, darkened the splendor of the worke, or ra­ther fortune envying the glory nature should re­ceive, opposed her strength, to lessen this so ex­cellent a piece.—I am informed ye are a Pict, and that you have desired to speak with me.

'Tis truth, with this addition, that our con­fer nce may be private, since what I have to say, may happily concerne your life.

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My life, 'tis indeed a weighty busines, and me thinks, should not come within your managing.

The greatest somtimes may have use even of the meanest hearb or simple that doth grow, to heale a wound, or by its mixture, cure some malady, why then should you beleeve one of the sons of men, for whom the best, and all the creatures had their beings, should not be capable to doe you such a service, as might merit your attention, and onely yours.

Sure I have heard this voyce before—yes gentle youth, though thou brought'st danger, as thy promises speaks safety, I would give thee hearing, were i [...] the businesse of a day, thou hast to speake, leave me Clean­thes—Now speake—

First, you must be so much a friend unto your selfe, to thinke me such, and from that conference discover the message, that Sinatus brought you from the King, your answer backe to him, nay more your present resolution in that point.

But can you thinke I will doe this upon your bare profession?

You must doe more, or else I cannot serve you.

More cannot be.

Yes, I would know touching Cartandes love and yours, and after marriage, where you meane to make abode, in Britaine, which will soone be conquered, or else returne with her to Denmarke.—

Thou dost amaze me with this folly Cleanthes.

Stay—heare me out, and if what now ap­peares like folly, proves not reason, then let me feele your anger.

Be briefe then, I must leave you else

So, weary of my company, Aside.

Even through this cloud, if he [...]ere not inconstant, the simpathie of love will show his force.—Weeps.

Why does he weepe, what meanes this sor­row? [Page] if it growes from me, your strange demands are onely guilty: or can I lay my heart open to one I saw before.

Ye may, when ye doe know the pawne I will engage for service.

What pawne?

My life, when you have laid open your mind to me, and what I then shall speake you not approve, or feare I shall discover, rip up my heart, and see the truth of my intent: or if such crueltie you like not, keepe me where I shall never see mankind, but your mistrustfull selfe.

This were a way indeed to be secured.

If so, for your owne safety be perswaded, can you beleeve I should doe this, without some grounds of reason?

Thou hast ore come, and I will lay my heart open, but be assured, if I doe find thee triviall, I shall inflict the punishment thou do [...]st propose.

Else you shall doe an injury to me.

Stay there—

See here Adrastus head, who often did attempt to mur­ther me, now sent by the King as witnesse of his love, and reconcilement withall, I by Sinatus am invited to leave Cartandes, and joyning with Guimantes, and the other Princes of the Ile, chase hence the Danes, and for a recompence of this, which i [...] it selfe ad­mits of a dispute, he superads a hapinesse, which but to thinke upon, makes my glad soule enjoy a hea­venly blisse.

And mine—speake but the ground of all joy, and I am satisfi'd.

'Tis to be more then Monarch of the earth, by possessing my Philicia.

You Gods let me no longer live, if I must change this ioy to feele the paine of jealousie again—Sounds.

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What flood of passion's this, I see he's no con­terfeit, Cleanthus, hoe Cleanthus.

He recovers, speake gentle youth, how doest thou?

Well—so well, I scarcely can be better—O my deare Love, doest thou not know me?

Ha deare Love! joy & amazement strive within me, againe name but that word of love, and let mee loose to such a joy, as must know a bounds—'tis she, O my Philicia! could a disguise like this, hide thee from me, pardon, O pardon such a dulnesse.

Cleanthus sees, and shame confounds me now as much as joy, O let me hide my selfe, the habite I have on, I feare will make me blush to death.

You need not feare his eyes, whose heart is [...]ine.

That you your selfe should see me in the ha­bite of a man, would much displease, did I not glory in the cause, that made me put it on, to die with you or worke your safety, which safety now is threatned more then ever, you must not yeeld unto the Kings desires, he's false, and seeks your ruine too plainely, witnesse since he offers me as your reward, yet knew I was not in his power ro give; feare of his false-hood made me presse to speake with you, al­though I thought to find you most unconstant, par­don that jealousie, whole working hath conduced much to your happinesse and mine; but I am frigh­ted still to looke upon this habite, yet knowne to be Philicia.

O Dearest Lady, where can there be a way left in the power of fortune for me to quir these obli­gations▪

How will doe these professions suit our loves?

ACT. IIII.

Ile teare this Arviragus from my heart, assist me reason in so just a cause, canst thou be wanting? thou flatterest too; perswaded me: love told me that vertue was in him most eminent, and such an emi­nence onely becomes Cartandes to affect: but, tell me now, does it become Cartandes to continue love to one ingrate, for such a love as [...]ath no parallell; a fire [...]id my in bosome for so many months, almost till my consumption, and when it was permitted to breake forth, O misety! to thinke all the returne it brought was cold neglect, and scorne, and can I suffer this from any mortall: Cartandes woo, and be neglected! if love barre me revenge on him, yet from my selfe I merite hate, and by selfe punishment will take re­venge, but how? resolve my selfe never to see him more; bid farewell to this Ile and him, it must be so, or I shall fall beneath the honor of my birth.

Pardon dearest Lady this intrusion, on your retyrement, I knew not of your being here.

Stay, Ile give some intermission to my tor­menting thoughts, nor doe I ever finde it more, then when I doe converse with him, wher's Prince Arvi­ragus?

Giving order touching provision for the Army.

He does not thinke us worthy of his compa­ny, though we commend that care, we would not be our selves neglected.

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'Tis an accent of duty makes him absent.

We doe beleeve you pay us a respect greater then his, and yet we oft enjoy your company.

His charge engages him, and me the blessing I enjoy, to see & heare a person of such excellence.

My exellence rests onely in your opinion, and never reaches to his apprehension: oh I must ease my heart, and when can I d [...]scharge the burthen better, then upon one, whom I beleeve will have a sence of my afflictions, and faith and secrecie not to discover?

Though when I know you are unhappy, it will be an addition to my griefes, yet shall no over­flowing of my tongue relate what I am trusted with; for I will place your sufferings in the profoundest of my heart, my owne shall flo [...]e above, yet I should hate my selfe, if mine were visible to any, but the deare cause of my afflictions; how most injurious I am to my selfe, to give title to the pleasing paines of love.

Mine are not such, yet love's the cause ther's a mixture of disdaine and anger, that renders, even my selfe and him, if possible offensive hatefull, O that it were so, I speake I know not what, nor is it strange in such confusion of my thoughts; that con­tradictions from my tongue should fall, O Arvira­gus, the happy, most unhappy cause of my distractions, didst thou now stand before me, as when appointed for the Sacrifice, the sense of thy ingratitude would raise my anger up to thy destruction, but soone I should revenge such rashnes on my selfe, by my owne death. O cruell love, O cruell fate, to fixe my love where vertue bars me a returne!

O cruell fate, that fixes mine, where an ac­cesse of meri [...] forces love, and kills, even possibility of hope.

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Had I my selfe no need of pitty, I could g [...]ant it to another.

Is it possible the sense of paine should make you cruell, rather by an act free your self, raising some other to a happinesse no mortall ever knew so great? reason assures nature, never intended such perfections should beg love as an almes; yet when you shall des­cend so low to crave his heart, he cannot give you one worth the receiving, since he shall show ingratitude to so much truth, as the whole world does not againe possesse.

Can her deserts to him, be more then mine? consider well my actions.

I cannot say that her perfections equal yours, yet they admit of no comparisons besides, but were it so, to both his obligation equall, her debt in ju­stice must first be satisfied, which no lesse can per­forme then his whole faith: faire Creditor, be favo­rable then to him, to me his friend, who stand en­gaged for all he owes, and though I dare not say my heart is a treasure worthy to discharge the principall, yet as interest money, or a surety, till fortuen make him able, take the engagement of a faith, that can­not know a shorter date, then my last gasp.

Guiderius, I was not ignorant before, who was the object of your passion, and bring my selfe in love, loves language not displeased me, but now after this declaration to my face: neither my quality, nor love to Arviragus doe permit me heare you more; this I thus plainely tell you, least you should rayse a hope both prejudiciall to your selfe and me, no flattery being so dangerous as that of lovers to themselves.

I come to wai [...]e upon your Ma [...]estie for an af­faire of no small consequence.

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Yet I am confident youle leave unspok [...]n one of greater, O Arviragus is this my resolution: first break my heart, ere I againe expresse the least of passion, Whats your affaire?

Your counsell wait, without whom I desire to be a Witnesse of my proposition.

The councell, another time Ile hear [...] it.

It doth not well admit of a delay.

It shall bee Sir, if it be in me to cause it.

What moves the Queene?

That was too much the other way, oh Love, how hard it is to hide thy power, when even by shewes of Anger or neglect, wee to the experienc't doe pro­clame thee most.

Know ye the cause the Queene is thus.

Yes though yee did not tell me, 'tis that shee loves you who cannot requite her?

Oh thinke not so.

Ha—shall I beleeve you love her?

By all the Gods equall unto my selfe: what i'st I would not undertake to serve her?

Not breake your faith I hope.

My Faith—I mean within the bounds of ver­tue, for never man was more oblig'd, then I to this brave Queene, Pardon divine Philicia, thou art still excepted, when either Love or Obligation is na­med.

I must confesse I would not have you love the Queene, for if you did, [...]hen I must hate you, yet cer­tainely Cartandes hath done more to oblige you, then Fortune ever gave▪ Philicia power.

No Guiderius, come with me to my tent,

I wonder much Sinatus wee heare not from Prince Arviragus, you say he willingly did entertaine the offer of our love.

At first hee heard unwillingly my offers of a peace, but whe I seconded my propositions with ten­der of Philicia for his wife, and did engage my faith, I Iudged your kindnesse reall to my opinion, he seemed absolutely won, promised to send some trusty Messen­ger, that fully should concl [...]de the Treatie, but Sir what is the reason none are permitted to see your Sister.

Alas Sinatus, she is not to be seene by us.

How Si [...]?

Shee's fled.

Ha.

Sinatus here I call the Heavens to witnesse, I was deceived as wel as others, beleeved she kept her cham­ber, when she was gone.

O Sir, you have undone your selfe, and mee, if you intended really to g [...]ve your Sister, yet 'tis im­possible that Arviragus can believe it, now your Sister will perswade the contrary, who certainely in some disguise is fled to him, and justly am I thought the trecherous instrument of this deceit.

Sinatus be not grieved 'tis the intention makes the person guilty, and mine I sweare were then, and yet remaine full of all good to Arviragus.

But that you are my King, I would s [...]arce cre­dit this profession, thinke now Sir what you are to doe, to appeare worthy Arviragus friendship, with­out which, there is no preservation for your selfor State.

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We hope we are not in a cause so desperate, Eugenius no wayes is of your opinion.

'Tis well sir, if Eugenius heart be yours, af­ter so many injuries, I would not sir accuse, though I mistrust, he's one of a high mind, withall suspitious, and from his owne thoughts, judges your actions: this sir, were base in me, but that it tends to my Princes preservation: take heed your love unto Artemia, give not her father power to worke his ends upon you, I know he once did hate you deadly.

So did Artem [...]a, but now she is more g [...]ntle, and if I not mistake, shares in my flame, what can Eu­genius ayme at more then to be father in Law unto his Prince: see where they come.—

and Artemia.

Divine Artemia, thou bright Starre of comfort, which but appearing with a cheerefull looke, doest by that influence, chase from me in an instant all my discon­tent: shine but thus gracious ever, and fortune hath no power to make me suffer.

May Fortune cease to be adored, when she's not auspicious to your Wishes.

My Lord I must acknowledge these favours to your kindnes, whilest she speakes thus, make knowne your wishes, and they are obeyed.

Mine Sir, must first tend to your happinesse, before they are permitted to reflect upon my selfe, and the first step to that Sir, is your safety here Sir, are yee besieged? yet all men live in so much plenty, eate and drinke, as if their store could neere be spent, hoping upon uncertaine succours or Treaties, of some peace, which all may fayle, and we be left to the extremity of famine: this to prevent, such order would in time be taken, as is accustomed in a City thus beseeged.

The care is timely, and in the due execution we desire you will oblige us, from henceforth we com­mand [Page] Eugenius as our substitute, receive from all per­fect obedience touching the Government and safety of the City.

This confidence which you doe repose in him, obliges me no lesse, to pray for the successe, then him to put in act his ablest faculties, for the performance of a charge weighty.

Sir.

Eugenius, Here wee doe receive all thankes, present and expect future happinesse.—

Artemia, and others, man [...]l Eugenius.

Yes Prince, I know thy present joyes fixe there, and would remaine so, till thy lust were satis­fied, but I shall coole that heat, nor will my actions scarcely beare the name of falsehood, but in the ocean of thy fathers, and thy treache [...]y, and wrongs to me be lost, or if remembred, cald a wise p [...]evention, at worst a just revenge, upon a perjur'd and dissembling Tyrant.

Most noble Lord, how excellent and wise a choice his Majestie hath made in our beleefe, our vowed obedience to your least command, we hope shall wit­nesse.

You are more cruell in these flatteries, now in my prosperity, then were your scorne in time of my af­fliction: then I could have revenged, but now civili­tie must tye my hands.

O My Lord, I hope your goodnesse will beleeve we did but jest, and wisht no hurt?

No [...] doe I thinke you now wish good, and as such harmelesse persons wi [...]h your pardon, I shall sti [...]l esteeme.

Now by our honours we are yours entirely, or any that the King pleases to favour.

Sir, we have beene long Courtiers, and never were observed as stubborne to the will of Majestie, [Page] his wisedome, makes election, and duty doth from us command obedience.

But not slavish professions, learne to be men, and I will love you, nay learne but to dissemble well and Ile imploy you, appeare but to the world honest and worthy, Ile embrace your friendship, be capable to cozen, and you may be usefull, but shallow fooles and knaves, that every child can see, throwe disgrace on the weary Courtier.

Welcome still night that doth invite unto a sweet repose, wearied mortality but unto me more wel­come then the rest, a thou givest way to my enioying a happinesse, worthy the envy of the Gods, Cl [...]anthes make all things ready, and bee carefull none ap­proach.

I shall.

Come fo [...]th my dearest, Ci [...]thia is to her highest Orb advanc't, 'tis mid of night, in teares these clouds are surely caus'd from gratitude to her, least the bright splendor of your eyes, should darke her shine, there cannot be a real cause of sorrow here.

O Yes, the very being here is in it selfe a Cause.

Can yee repent your goodnesse to me?

No Arviragus, but I may quarrell with my Fate, that forces me to give so faire a ground to slan­der, doe I appeare now like a great Kings daughter, or when our story shall be read, will not some question my ve [...]tue iustly, but were there none of these, how much lesse will your satisfaction bee, when You receive mee at your Altar, then if your [Page] purchase of mee had beene with doubts and feares continued, besides the frailty of mans nature must make him of necessity reioyce more to receive a Prin­ces with all circumstance of greatnesse, then one that comes into his Armes, stript of those pleasing glo­ries.

Since our Essentiall content rests in our selves, and all actions wee have done of consequence have e­ver a [...]m'd at one anothers goods, you could not suffer for my sake, or I for yours, but it must adde to our affection, if to the world you show lesse glory, as clouded by our Sexes habit, it sets a value upon me, for whose sake you obscured your selfe, not Alexander I confesse by all his conquests was ever rais'd to such a hight, for with contempt I looke on what the wo [...]ld st [...]les most happy, yet all these glories vanish or change into their contrary, unlesse you change the day, and with a clearer beame dry up this killing moysture, no Cerren ever felt so dangerous infections, even to the ruine of our Joyes, since it doth show, as if there we [...]e suspition or defect of love in one of us.

O kill me not to say so.

Why are yee sad, We doe enioy our conversa­tion free, no eye or eare is to disturbe us, a blessing lo­vers pray for, oft have we done so.

'Tis true, and for your conversation, should a­g [...]ine adventure much, but here I am as twere by a constraint, something of modesty or folly, I know not what to call it▪ since certaine of your Vertue, takes from me al the satisfaction of your company, truth is, I slept not al the last night, nor do I think I shal, if you lye in the same roome.

(But there's necessity of that to avoid suspition, would you be pleas'd to plight our Faiths, these scru­ples then would vanish▪ and we might be more freely happy.

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Kill me rather then utter any syllable to such a purpose.

Upon my knees I beg forgivenesse.

I scarce can grant it, nor will I, but upon a condition.

Name it, and be obeyed.

That you lye further from the bed, as farre as possible.

What can you feare from me?

It seemes ye are no sutor for a pardon, that dare expostulate.

By this faire hand I will obey you.

In this you onely seale a blanke, your pardon is not drawne up in my heart, nor can be, till I be obey­ed, pray remove your selfe.

O cruell Philicia!

Deare Arviragus, doe not thinke me such, 'tis not want, but an excesse of love, that makes me tender to preserve my selfe, most worthy of you, nor am I ve­ry well, caused by my want of sleepe, the enjoying which, onely can restore me, may thy repose be full of all these comforts happy Lovers feele, and if a doubt possesse thy minde, may the divinity of love, give thee assurance by a perfect vision of my heart, then thou shalt find unto thy joy and mine, that never any was so truely loved.

If then you would not contradict this your pro­fession, you will grant this priviledge, one kisse of your faire hand, whose delicacy is such, it both commands and yet forbids obedience, put me not from you, it seems like banishment, I will retire unurg'd, one touch more I would beg, be not displeased, consider but how you may blesse me, and sure you will not frowne al­though I ayme at this.

Your importunity and my desire to sleep, one­ly procures your wish, with which be satisfied.

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I am, though not my love, that merits more, sleepe steales upon her, and though she cannot be a witnesse now o my obedience, I will retire, even to the utmost verge, nor can I be displeased in this re­movall, when I know that I am lodged in the [...]re­foundest of her heart, from which assurance and imitation of my better part, a gentle slumber, doe be­gin to gaine a mastery upon my senses, welcome, thrice welcome, thou sweet refresher of our wearied faculties, how gladly doe I yeeld unto thy charmes?

Not love alone, nor that so much as jealou­sie and curiosity, thrusts me upon this action, which some will censure sharply, who can this be, with whom hee thus retire, and shuts himselfe up, even from his dearest friend Guiderius, no way can I arrive at satisfaction, better then by this unexpected and unreasonable visit: all stay without but Aldred.

Who's there?

A friend to Arviragus.

Ha the Queene.

Doe not wake your master, rather retire, I am confident, that you dare trust me in this chamber.

Madam.

I see you'r trouble, stay, and be witnesse, I will not ravish him.

What can this meane, or what's my part, ad­vise me heaven.

This is the Prince layd on the floore, what can this meane, does he beleeve those limbs deserve no better place? although in warre he hath beene b [...]ed, yet a Commander still, and needed inure him­selfe to so much hardnes, ther's more in it sure, here, here's the cause; rather an argument to draw him [Page] nearer, for so much sweetnesse in a face, these eyes never beheld, Nature, where hast thou hid this piece, whose excellence is such, that my amazement questi­ons my faith with doubts, whither it be some new cre­ation, not can I be resolved.

Oh.

That sigh setles my doubt on the old stuffe, sor­rowes are our birth right, but of what S [...]x is yet my torment, if a Woman, if—it be so, for could he give his bed to a man, or could a man deserving that re­spect, be so farre wanting in Civility, as to accept it? No 'tis a woman, & she for whom I'm justly neglected, Why Justly? is she a Queene, or are her sufferings for Arviragus equall to mine? in both she may ex­ceed, for such respect he payes her, as might content a Deity, if they had beeing on the earth.

O my deare Arviragus.

More then enough, despaire I entertaine from this minute, it is a Woman, were it a man, the mischief were not lesse, now I may hate, then I perhaps might love againe—Sir.—Sir

My deare Philicia.

How bitter those sweet words are, no Sir.

I do nor dreame, sure I am yet a sleepe, most gra­cious Lady, to see you here at this dead time of night may well excuse this my distraction, there is no com­motion in the Campe, or secret treason.

The greatest that mans wit or fortune can pro­duce, my utter ruine, and you the ground of all, nay you conceal'd that person from me, that hath alrea­dy strooke me to the heart.

I cannot understand you.

This light Ile give you to it.

What shall I doe—this youth Ile answer for.

And so shall hee for you, your guilt being [Page] equall, a guard there seise this Prince.

H [...], seise me.

Ah me who's here?

Prince Arviragus, seek not to make resistance, 'tis impossible without shedd [...]ng the blood of thou­sands: by what is most sacred I vow, the innocent shal have no prejudice; if in this promise I doe faile, let a swift vengeance sieze me, but if you will not trust this promise, but bee your owne acquitter, and this youth's, who is by me accused of Treason, up­on your head fall all the blood that shall this night be shed.

Although I doe not know the grounds of your suspit on and s [...] am ignorant how farre your passions may transport you against me and this Prince, yet since I know our innocence, and what his obligations have formerly bi [...] to you, from that end, your owne Noblenesse, I needs must hope a fai [...]er issue, than from a desperate opposition.

Is't your opin on then that I should yeeld my selfe?

your former bondage may instruct it a hap­pin [...]sse to be a Prisoner to Cartandes, if free from guilt, that confidence will make me suffer gladly with you.

In this I must deceive your hopes, although you joyned together in my wrongs, your persons must be [...]evered.

This was my feare, invention helpe me, Noble Agenor, bee not discontented, although our persons may be separated, our friendship shall remaine entire for ever.

How's this?

Sure Philicia will conceive me. Madam bee pleased to know you have the Pri [...]ce of Scotland for your prisoner, whose Father if hee [Page] suffer injury, hath power to right himselfe.

I cannot feare it from so sweet a Lady, and yet her eyes without her tongue, have power of life and death.

What am I courted? for this time sir I will onely imploy my tongue. Let them be separat, yet us'd with all respect:

ACT. V.

How strangely are my thoughts devided, how full of contradictions? O the unsufferable paines of an unsettled mind! thou art above expression, be­yond the reach of faith in all, but such as have like me, beene tortured by thee; to love by inclination, yet bound to hate by reason, to have oathes, vowes and teares, beget faith, and as it were, destroy it, in the instant of its birth, by a suspicion of his false­hood: Oh, cruell, cruell fate! either worke power­fully suspition in my soule, or wholly quit the place to faith begetting love.

How now Artemia, thou look'st sad, but know thou hast no cause, the plot I laid hath taken to my wish, and when we please, we may be free leaving this cursed place.

May we sir?

Thou speak'st not cheerefully: know that the [Page] Captaine which I told thee of, to whom I did com­mit the keeping of the Westerne-gate of the City, is so much mine, that he not only will assist our flight, but give us trusty servants to be our guides: I long till I embrace brave Arviragus feet, and bath them in repentant teares: why stand'st thou thus, art thou not joyed, to thinke upon thy meeting with Guide­rius?

I should be glad to see my brother, but sit, will not our flight appeare like treason, the King reposing on your faith his safety?

Treason? Artemia, it scarcely could be counted such if I should kill him ere I left the City, his fathers injuries, and his to me, have beene insupportable.

But sir, if hee now really intend all he makes show of, would not that justly reconcile him to your love?

Doe you desire to stay behind to be his whore? remember what he once attempted foole.

'Tis true, but he's much changed, me think [...] full of all sweetnesse now of late, O sir.

I see his flatteries have gain'd upon thee, and thou beleevest him changed, when thou indeed art so Artemia, no, thou must not trust him, build on a fathers care, & judgement, whose experience makes him more capable, to know the cunning of a Croco­dile, whose practise is to ruine us by our owne pitty, let us remove our selves with speed Artemia, out of the sight, or hearing of his charme.

I shall obey sir, when you please▪

Prepare your selfe then, for perhaps this night we wil [...] leave the City.

Must I forget all those deepe oaths, all those expressions, which I have heard the experienc't, re­kon up as marks of love, why should I thinke ther's no faith in men, are they not made of the same [Page] mould, with us, and sure I have not lesse of love for him then I make show of, O would I had, I love him but too much, which blinds me that I cannot see his falshood,—cannot? rather will not,

Love what it doth not like doth darkly see,

But what doth please, even against truth must be.

Though my owne miseries presse hard upon me, yet even those griefes beget a sense, and pity of her sufferings that causes mine Cartandes, nor is it strange, when I consider Arviragus, the ground of both—the Queene.

See these things be ready, and wait without.

I must make good the person of Agenor.

Sir, I come to see how you doe beare restraint.

Madam, my usage hath beene such, so noble, my will so fram'd to serve your pleasure, that I before felt no restraint, but sure a prison, by your glorious presence, will soone become the onely place worthy our wish, a Temple where on the Altar of a zea­lous heart, there may be offered up to you the sacred Deity, the Incense of our pure devotion.

Agenor Prince of Scotland might speake this, and thinke so too, for I confesse I not misdoubt my me­rit, but from Philicia, whose soul I know is ful of ma­lice against Cartandes, this must not be believed with­out the forfeit of my judgement—and know your hate is that I covet, not your love.

My hate, faire Princesse? [...]rust me I cannot pay it.

Leave these disguisings, I come upon no friend­ly visit, look on me as a rivall enraged with jealousie for such my actions quickly will expresse me.

'Tis in vaine, I find she knows me for Philicia, and Mistris to the man she loves.

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Iudge now if I deserve your courting, does my presence make this place pleasing to you, dost thou not tremble at these objects?

Those objects, nor the employment of them shall not make me guilty, and whil'st they doe not so, they can create no feare.

I trifle, this cup of poyson, Arviragus does pre­sent you by my hand, and bids you, if you love him, drink it to his health, what do ye begin to tremble?

I doe, to heare his name and poyson mixt to­gether in one sentence, but for my selfe, a confident smile, shall meet, and if not checke, yet triumph over your utmost malice.

Proceed to make this good, ther's matter for the tryall.

How? to drinke that poyson, ther's no just in­vitation to it.

You will not drinke this poyson then, for Arviragus sake.

Even for his sake I must not.

Thou God of Love be judge, and crowne the truest Lover in Elisium—thus doe I seize my right.

What meanes the Queen?

Force could not make thee do, what force shall not prevent me from this draught gives freedome, and all joyes to my deare Arviragus, nay makes even thee my hated rivall sharer in his blisse.

H [...]ld.—Car. No.

O hold for Arviragus sake—shall I be thus out­gone? this cursed draught to hell, how I am lost in admiration, at this love and bravery, here let me kneele in adoration, as to a Deity, for sure your beauty, and these exalted actions speake you more then a mortall.

More then a foole, had I intended really, what I made show of.

How is this?

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Drink poyson for a man that scornes me—no [...] his heart-blood were a more pleasing draught.

I am amased, which way shall I direct my faith, where fixe it?

Vpon this point, which is unalterable, know that as much as I have loved Prince Arviragus, so much, nay more, hath Oswald been in love with me, (at last his service hath obtain'd what I could not from Arviragus,) beliefe and pitty of his sufferings, but whil'st the madnesse of my passion lasted to your servant, I made a vow never to marry any man, but Arviragus, yet hee alive, Oswald that knowes this, doth presse a combat, which I as gladly grant, prompted by love to him, and present hate to Arvi­ragus, who yet if he proves victor, gaines liberty for [...]ou and him, to this my oath and honour both shall [...]ind me.

Can this be true?

I make no doubt of his and your acceptance, the offer being so farre above your hopes, Armour shall be provided, the place I likewise have designed, no witnesse but our selves,

This being perform'd, justice will force you say,

A Rivall to your joyes showed you a way.

My Lord, as to an Oracle I come for counsell to you, my mind is burdned with a secret of no finall importance.

Be free in speaking it▪ I shall be so to you in my advice.

First sweare a secresie.

You are not just sir, to desire an oath, I co­vet [Page] not the knowledge of your secret, if you believe me honest, that's a tye sufficient.

You righrly doe instruct me from that assu­rance I must discover to you, that woone by Eugenius, I have consented to his escape with his daughter, out at that which he committed to my custody, but con­sidering better I find it is not onely his escape that he may ayme at, but happily the ruine of the King and City, whose weakenesse he may discover to the Danes and Arviragus.

No doubt he does intend it, and these your latter thoughts had only power to wash away, ayded by the Kings mercy, the guilt that stain'd you by your rash consent.

But if this be discovered, I prove the murthe­rer of Eugenius, and his sweet and innocent daughter.

I shall advise you, as I have ever done my selfe, particular losses, must yeeld unto the generall preservation; and yet alas, is there no safety for the State but in their deaths? must that be recompence for all their former injuries? what is your will? the King must know this from you or me.

Sir, you are wise and vertuous, this my affaire I wholly commit unto your hands, for there I count my life or honour safe, if one must perish, it will be some comfort, that I lose it by your counsell.

Althou [...]h unwillingly, yet as a Counseller, I am bound to undertake it, 'tis hard to rule what is above us, the King I feare dissembles, and thinkes by unjust pollicies, to bring his ends to passe.

Know now Sinatus consulting with your selfe.

Yes, but about your safety.

How am I in danger?

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Be pleas'd sir, first to tell me, if rash and un­faithfull resolutions may not find mercy, from re­pentance, and endeavours of amends?

They are crimes I have beene guilty of, and if like me, they truly can repent, I can forgive, as certaine, as I hope forgivenesse.

I must believe you know then, I am inform'd Eugenius and Artemia, giving no faith to all your showes of love, did worke a meanes for their es­cape to Arv [...]ragus; the Captaine that made promise of his helpe, is hee that now discovers their in­tent.

Thou wounds my soule with this, yet but from thee it could not find beliefe, have all my vowes and teares, gain'd no more faith? suspected still,—send straight to fetch that Captaine to me, and in what I shall now enjoyne thee, thou best of men, crowne all thy former actions.

Let it be vertuous, and I shall know, nor doubt nor danger.

I durst as soone pray heavens assistance, as thine to any unjust act, 'tis such a secret, as I scarce dare trust the ayre with it.

How sir, 'twere madnesse.

Feltst thou my torment, thou would'st ac­count it madnesse not to doe it▪

O sir, ther's too much danger.

Hither I am come to meet an unknowne foe, by the command of her who hath so absolute a [Page] power over my soule, that certaine death were by the merite of obedience, made a gainefull purchase, and farre from me be such a thought as death, were not my Armes as strong, my heart as voyd of feare, as any living, yet such a recompence will crowne my victory, that would give strength and courage, to the basest coward; my wish 'twas, that Cartandes vowed to make me master of, if in her power, and in her power, rests my chiefest blisse on earth, I am on fire till I behold an opposite, but whom? I must not question that, not in my thoughts, much lesse expostulate with him our cause of combat, were hee here.

Were it a troupe of men, as 'tis a single per­son that I am to meet, I should encounter them with no lesse hope and courage then now, since 'tis to set Philicia free: Cartandes, prove but faithful in thy promise, and though thy hatred make thee seek my life, I shall admire thine, and thy servants brave­ry,—here's Oswald.

I fear'd all was a dreame, but see my wish.

Enough Guiderius, hold, O hold Guiderius.

Ha, Guiderius.

How's this?

Why Madam, doe ye this?

Do I here right? thy voyce speakes thee Guide­rius, art thou hee?

Ha, if you be Arviragus, I shall soone be no­thing, [Page] O falshood, never till this minute hadst thou so glorious a seate, deare Lady take this sword and rip my heart, to see my innocence.

I should as soone suspect my faith, as doubt thy love to Arviragus.

O Madam, could ye not be content to satis­fie your cruelty a common way, but you would make us murtherers of our owne selves?

Prince Arviragus, I had really intended your destruction, perhaps you had not lived now to up­brayd me, your strengths & courages seeming equall, nor you Guiderius in your looks, to expresse a soule so discontented: I did not think friendship had whol­ly taken up your heart; call all that's neere, nay, could the universall world heare my voyce, I would with a just pride, proclaime the ground of all my actions—know Madame, in that Scene of death with you, I made such tryall of your vertue, and your love to Arviragus, that in the ocean of your merits, my sickly hopes were drownd, for I despaired of ever arriving at the haven of blisse, where you may now for ever anchor safely, from me no storme shall rise more to disturbe your peace.

Can this be true Philicia, shall wee believe? will you not change againe?

Why doe you check your joyes? trust me I will no more vary the Scene, but gladly prove a Priest to joyne your hands.

Oh you Gods!

Let me adore this goodnesse.

Now Arviragus, I must turne to you: to make a repetition of the torments I have felt were vaine, for I must tell you, that I still doe love, and must en­joy all that your vertue can permit you grant, nay, I must marry Arviragus too▪

How Madam?

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In this his friend I shall enjoy, his faith, ver­tue, valour, in this last action fully witnest to me—Guiderius, if beyond this you have a wish, and in my power, name it, and I will see it performed.

Or this, or in the instant give me death.

This doubt speaks your love more, and makes you dearer to me.

Let me not dare to thinke words can ex­presse my joyes.

What's the matter?

Some that are fled out of the City desire to be admitted to your presence.

Bring them in▪

First, let me here lay downe my necke, and if you please, receive a Traytors due.

Eugenius I am both amaz'd and joyed to see you, and where you thinke you need forgivenesse, I must pay you thanks, even for my life, preserved by this your sonne.

Your blessing sir.

Never was fathers staines wip't off with so much joy to the offendor, as mine by thee.

Deare▪ Artemia wel come, here thou art safe from false-hood and tyranny.

Madam, I hope so.

But how sir did you scape the Tyrant?

'Tis now some time since he made showes of love unto Artemia, and for his ends, used me with all respect, trusted the Government of the City to me, but I have gain'd the opportunity to put my selfe [Page] within this gracious Princes and your protection, chiefely by imitating him in his dissimulation, but in his showes of love, her's one can witnesse to her griefe, none ever equal'd his falshood. Discovers.

Eugenius, thus I doe disprove thy slander.

Ha the King!

Ha, deare Artemia, no longer trust the ma­lice of this father, since to assure my love, I hazard honor, life and Kingdome, behold me here, gladly exposed, even to the utmost rage or injury can prompt you to, and if I fall a Sacrifice to Love, and thee close▪ but my eyes, and shed a teare upon my tombe, such a death will prove by far more welcome, ther [...] to live, and have my faith suspected.

[...] his one act did not my interest bind, yet mig [...]t for ever reconcile us.

I wil not beg that pardon, which you so free­ly give.

And Madam, I must hope, you will believe, Hymen and Mars but ill agree.

Deare Arviragus know that power you held in both, is not grown lesse, because now we are joyn'd, dispose all how you please.

Eugenius, are you as liberal?

I am ready upon my knee to beg this Prin­ces pardon.

Which sir, I must not suffer, rather would kneele to beg a blessing from you.

Artemia, if I can read loves language, your eyes expresse the argument of your heart, blush not; receive her sir.

I doe, as what can onely make me blest.

Hymen provide more Torches: