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THE 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



L 



BRITISH DRAMA; 



COMPREHENDING 



THE BEST PLAYS , 



THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 



TRAGEDIES. 



[ 



LONDON, 

PUBLISHED BT WILLIAM MILLER, OLD BOND-STREET. 
PRINTED BT JAMES BALLANTYNE, 

EDINBURGH. 

1804. 



PREFACE 



OF 



THE EDITOR 



It is peculiarly pleasing to trace the history of every science through its pro- 
gressive changes. The examination of each distinct epoch, and of every indi- 
vidual amendment, tends to gratify the curiosity ; while a comparison of the 
first rude attempts with the grandeur of modern improvements cannot fail to 
awaken emulation, and inspirit all our efforts, in the career of literary ad- 
vancement. These observations will be found to apply, with peculiar justice, 
to the Dramatic Art. For, on perusing the finished productions of the modern 
drama, we can scarcely believe, that this splendid style of composition owes 
its origin to the wild and uncouth ballads of strolling singers in Greece, who 
net at certain seasons of the year, to celebrate the festival of Bacchus. Yet 
no fact is better authenticated in history, than that Tragedy derives its exist* 
cnce from the choral songs in honour of that god. 

The Chorus, as these singers were afterwards called, whether composed of 
itinerant rhapsodists, or appropriate minstrels, confined their effusions, in the 
first instance, to the praise of the deity, whom they met to celebrate ; and, as 
the entertainment was yet entirely musical, the festival consisted of an unin- 
terrupted flow of song, till the 536th year before the Christian sera, when 
Thespis conceived the design of introducing an actor, to amuse the people by 
recitation, while the chorus enjoyed a few moments of repose. This bold in- 
novation was followed by others, still more daring, which led to unforeseen 
and incalculable improvements. JEschylus introduced a second actor, who 

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conversed with the first, and thus laid the foundation of dramatic dialogue. 
But, as the dramatis persona increased, the subject of their discourse also gra- 

« 

dually underwent a change. At first, the praise of other heroes was interwo- 
ven with that of Bacchus. As the dialogue became more extensive, it be- 
came more interesting; till, at length, the chorus, from a principal, began to 
be considered as a subordinate part ; and Bacchus, from being the hero of 
every line, lost, by degrees, his ascendancy in the entertainment, till, at 
length, he was altogether set aside; and subjects of general history, dramati- 
cally disposed, now entirely supplied the place of bare dithyrambics. These 
important changes, begun by Thespis, were improved and confirmed by 2Es- 
chylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the illustrious dramatic triumvirate of 
Greece, who were justly the favourites of their own times, and whose works 
have been handed down to posterity with the accumulated admiration of each 
succeeding age. 

Notwithstanding, however, the fame which the works of these illustrious 
tragedians so justly enjoy, an accurate inquiry into the laws of the Grecian 
drama, will prove it to have been marred by a singular defect, from which the 
more judicious compositions of modern times are happily exempt. We have 
already observed, that, as the dialogue of the drama improved and extended 
itself, the chorus., which had given birth to it, sunk in importance, and, at last, 
became altogether unnecessary. Yet Tragedy, in the foil maturity of its an* 
cient splendour, as if afraid of giving the parricidal blow, never ventured to 
cut off the chorus, though it had now become a useless and embarrassing ap- 
pendage of the stage, no If ss an enemy to verisimilitude, than a bar to scenic 
variety. For, as the persons, who composed it, never quitted the stage, they 
were the auditors and spectators of all that passed, the necessary confidants of 
all parties ; by which means probability was violated, and the common cha-r 
racteristics of human nature confounded and lost. What, indeed, can be 
more incredible, than that Phaedra should trust her incestuous passion, or Me- 
dea her murderous revenge, to an undistinguished troop of attendants ? la 
addition to this, the constant presence of the choral band imposed on the dra» 
matist the necessity of preserving the unities of time and place. The scene 
could not be changed, when the stage was never clear; nor the time of action 
prolonged beyond that of the representation. Accordingly, we find (with a few- 
exceptions) that, in the Greek tragedy, the place is never varied, the action 
never suspended, and the dramatic time exactly commensurate with the time 



ill 

of performance. Such inconveniences may, in some ibeasure, be surmounted 
by the first masters; but, in other hands, must necessarily have the effect of 
tendering the piece barren of incident, languid, and uninteresting. It is then 
to the taste and genius of later times, that we are indebted for the more 
finished productions of the Tragic Muse* As the first grand and necessary* 
step in improvement, the modern dramatist disbanded the chorus, and thus re- 
leased himself from the shackles of ancient thraldom. He is no longer 
ohliged to make a court-yard, or the street, or the sea-shore, serve for the 
same dull scene through the whole performance; He is no longer forced 
to measure his time by the hour-glass : for, as the falling curtain, at stated in- 
tervals, suspends the action, and clears the stage, the imagination of the audi- 
ence is, as it were, in the hands of the poet, and the lapse of minutes can easily 
be fancied the flight of hours. Thus, then, the tragic writer of our days, 
though he still observe the unity of action, as necessary to just delineation 
of character, and progressive developement of plot, has seized on a greater 
latitude of time and place, by which he is enabled to throw more variety of 
scene, intrigue, incident, and action, into his piece. The examination of any 
modern tragedy will illustrate the truth of these assertions. In Gustavus Vasa, 
for instance, the action first lies in the copper-mines, then in the mountains of 
Dalecarlia ; now in the camp, now in its precincts. And in Philaster, if we 
include the various apartments of the palace, the scene changes no less than 
twelve times. It is by this single power over place, that the modern drama- 
tist is enabled so to involve his argument and aggregate events, as to arrest 
attention by multiplicity of incident, interest by perplexity of plot, and sur- 
prize by unexpected catastrophe. To employ such extensive materials, and 
include such variety of occurrence, in one scene, would be impossible : and 
all the interest of an English tragedy, nay, the tragedy itself, would be anni- 
hilated in an attempt to adjust it to the ancient model. 

Besides the advantages already enumerated, we possess, in the passion of 
love, a rich and invaluable mine of dramatic gold, so little explored by the an- 
cients, that that tender sentiment does not form the foundation-plot of more 
than one of the Greek tragedies. And this will appear the less surprising, 
when we contemplate the amazing distance, at which women were kept in 
those primaeval times ; and recollect, that female performers were not allowed 
on the stage. Happily for us, juster notions of human nature, and purer feel- 
ings of generous attachment, have so interwoven and blended us in one com- 



mon interest with the fair sex, that thfeir pleasures and pains are ours, nay, 
rise pre-eminent over those of man, and never fail to excite a more lively 
sympathy. Accordingly, though overlooked by the ancients, to what interest- 
ing scenes does the passion of love give birth in the hands of a Southern, a 
Congreve, and an Otway ? Is it possible to view the romantic feelings of Isa- 
bella, without sentiments of admiration and sympathetic sorrow i Where shall 
we find, in tragedy, a scene more truly affecting, than the tenderness and dis- 
tress of Castalio, in the fine interview with Monimia, in the fifth act of the 
Orphan ? Can any thing be imagined so exquisite, as the picture of conjugal 
affection, and persisting fidelity, in the characters of Almeria and Belvidera i 

Having thus vindicated the superior excellencies of the modern drama 
against the boasted claims of Greece, it Would be agreeable, to the tenor of 
the editor's plan, and the objects he has in view, to shew, that Britain pos- 
sesses as decided a pre-eminence, in this branch of literature, over contempo- 
rary nations, as she does over remote antiquity. An examination into the 
state of the various theatres of Europe would incontestably prove the truth of 
this remark. But, as our right to the dramatic palm has never been disputed, 
such an inquiry seems unnecessary. It remains, therefore, to explain the mo- 
tives, which led the editor to the present undertaking. 

Impressed with the highest admiration of our Tragic Muse, the editor con- 
ceived, that a collection of her best works would be highly acceptable to the 
public, on account of the difficulty, that at present exists, of procuring the fa- 
vourite productions of the stage in a convenient form. For many of our best 
tragedies are not to be obtained, except in a detached state, and others are 
only to be found in a complete edition of the works of the respective author. 
So that, a lover of the drama is reduced to the necessity, either of scattering 
his room with heaps of pamphlets, or loading his shelves with numerous vo- 
lumes, of which the dramatic contents bear but a small proportion to the bulk- 
of foreign matter. It is the purpose of publications like the present to obviate 
these inconveniences. But his predecessors, in this humble walk of literature, 
have given to the'world miscellanies, rather than selections : they have fre- 
quently jumbled together, in the same volume, Tragedy, Comedy, and Faroe, 
without attention either to choice or arrangement. They have preferred with- 
out taste, and distributed without judgment. .So that, in such volumes, it is 
no uncommon thing to see the " Lying Valet " precede " Cato," and the 
" Roman Father " following " Miss in her Teens." 



Bat, as Tragedy and Comedy possess entirely distinct characters, tbe former 
being intimately related to epic poetry, and rising above it in lofty style and 
mblime imagery, while the latter is the most perfect, as it more resembles 
common conversation, it has been thought more classical to publish perform- 
ances, so essentially different from each other, in distinct volumes, rather than 
confound them in heterogeneous combination. The editor has therefore pre* 
paied one volume of Tragedies, another of Comedies, and a third of Farces and 
Operas, which, together, will, it is presumed, be found to constitute a commo- 
dious, cheap, and judicious theatrical library, while the public will find the 
advantage of arrangement, in being able to procure either volume separately, 
if there should be any persons, who exclusively prefer either species of compo- 
sition. The man of sentiment and the humourist can now suit themselves ac- 
cording to their respective tastes. Nor is Heraclitus obliged to buy glees, nor 
Democritos ditties, bound up with the appropriate objects of their individual 
pursuit. Even those, who are equally admirers of the Comic and Tragic Muse, 
will find a convenience in this division, as they will hereby be better enabled 
to gratify the inclination of the moment, whether it tend to the grave or gay. 
And, as each play has been chronologically arranged, the reflecting mind will 
be able to see the progressive changes, that have taken place in dramatic com- 
position, and mark the distinct sera of improvement. 

Such, then, have been the. motives of this publication, and the principles 
which have guided the editor in its arrangement. If the execution be an- 
swerable to his own wishes and intentions, this volume of Tragedies may 
serve as a register of national genius. For dramatic composition, of this 
kind, as it is the most valuable, so is it the most difficult of all the spe- 
cies of poetry : it demands the most bold and vigorous conceptions, 
the most rich imagery, tender description, and impassioned language; 
it imposes a restraint on the inordinate flights of poetic enthusiasm, and 
forbids imagination to overstep the lines of character, or soar beyond the 
regions of probability. Yet this is not all, that is required of the Tragic writer. 
It is not sufficient, that he be poetical and chaste, unless his plot be so con- 
ducted as to excite a perpetual interest ; the incidents roust seem to retard, 
while they hurry on, the main object ; and neither glowing thoughts, nor me- 
lodious numbers, will compensate for tediousness of dialogue. Criticism, in no 
instance, dispenses with the observance of these rules. And while Dryden 
and Lee are condemned for extravagant. thoughts and glowing superfluities, 



VI 

Thomson and Johnson have not escaped censure for nakedness of plot, and 
the want of a rapid succession of unexpected incidents. In a style of compo- 
sition, therefore, which requires such concentrated talents to succeed, a bold 
imagination to conceive, and a correct taste to execute, it is thought that a se- 
lection of the best performances may be justly admitted as the testimony of na- 
tional genius; and in the specimens which are now submitted to the public, the 
editor is confident, that the manifold beauties will not only gratify the taste, 
but flatter the patriot-pride of an English reader, when he contemplates, in 
their unrivalled excellencies, the literary superiority of Britain, not only over 
ancient Greece, but over all the kingdoms of modern Europe. 

It was the editor's wish to insert a few of the best of Shakespeare's plays in 
these volumes, but several causes have prevented it : the difficulty of selection, 
the number that are truly excellent, and the universal practice of publishing 
his immortal works in a body by themselves. Besides, there is already an 
edition of his plays, in a form similar to the present, which, with these volumes, 
will form a complete British Drama. 



London, 
January, 1804 



j 



CONTENTS 



OF 



VOLUME FIRST. 



TJtAGEDIES. 



The Maid's Tragedy * Beaumont &Fletchrr 

fhUaster Ditto 

The Bondman ^.Massinger & Field •• 

The Fatal Dowry ..Ditto 

The Fake One- Beaumont & Fletcher 



Bonduca 

Tke Rival Queens •*•• 

All for Love 

Tkt Orphan 

Venice V reserved • • • • 
Tie Mourning Bride • 

Tamerlane 

The Fair Penitent • • 

Cato • • 

The Distressed Mother 
Jane Shore* ••••••••• 

Lady Jane Gray 

The Siege of Damascus 

The Revenge • • 

George Barnwell • • • • 

Zara 

Fatal Curiosity #••••• 



► Ditto ••« 
►Lee • • • • • 

Dryden « 
Otway • •< 

► Ditto ••« 
Concrete 
Rowe ••••« 

, Ditto • • * 

• Addison • 

► Philips < 
Rowe •••• 
Ditto • • 

• Hughes . 
•Young . . 
►Lillo • . . 

► Hill 

'LlLLO . . . 



Year. Page. 

1622 • I 

1622-^- 29 

1623 65 

1632 77 

1647 105 

I647 132 

1677 163 

1678 188 

1680 217 

1682 244 

1697 271 

1702 294 

1703 319 

1712 340 

1712 361 

1713 380 

1715 400 

1720 422 

1721 445 

1730 467 

1735 489 

I736 — 508 



Jrden of Fever sham 
Gustavus Vasa • • • 
Mahomet 



Irene 

The Roman Father 



Year. 

»•»••••••••••••. .Lillq •»...,. 1739 

f • * • • • » • • -Brooke  „ 1733 

• Miller 1744 

Tancred and Sigismunda Thomson 174.4 

• • Johnson 1749 

••••••• *f Whitehead 1750 

The Brothers Young 1753 

The Gamester f Moore • .. . 1753 

Boadicea Glover 1753 

Creusa Whitehead 1754 

Barbarossa*. •••••Brown 1755 

Douglas Home 1757 

Isabella -Southern 1758 

The Orphan of China ... f Murphy . . . .» 1759 

The Countess of Salisbury Hartson f . . 1767 

The Earl of Warwick Franklin 1767. 

Henobia ••••Murphy 1768  

The Grecian Daughter ♦••••.Ditto 1772 . 

Matilda ,...♦ ....... Franklin 1775. 



Page. 
-520 

-539 
-564 
-584 

■609 
-631 
•648 
■672 

696 

714 
■734 

755 
-774, 

794 

■8J7 
835 
853 
876 
898 



THE 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



THE 



MAID'S TRAGEDY. 



BY 



BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 



DRAMATIS PERSONJE. 



MEN. 

KlVG. 

Ltsippcs, brother to the king. 
Amixto*, a noble gentleman. 

Doti"^ S> } bother* to Evadne. 

Caliavax, an old humaurout lord, and father 

to Aspatia. 
Clbw, > 

Steato, J^^"' 

Diaooias, a servant to Calianar. 



WOMEN. 

Evadne, wife to Amintor. 

Aspatia, troth-plight wife to Amintor. 

Olym™ sf ' \ wa * tin 8 gentlewomen to Aspati 

Dula, a lady. 
Night, *\ 
Cynthia, f 

NEPTUNE^"""*"™ 
JEOLUS, J 



ia. 



Scene, — Rhodes. 



ACT I. 



Enter Cleox, Stbato, Lysipptjs, and 
Diphilus. 

Cleon. The rest are making ready, sir. 

Lyt. So let them ; there is time enough. 

Biph. You are the brother to the king, my 
fc*d ; we will take your "word. 

bjt. Strato, thou hast some skill in poetry : 
Whit think'st thou of the masque ? Will it be well? 

Strat. As well as masque can be. 

I51. As masque can be ? 

Strat. Yes; they must commend their king, and 
■r* 1 ^ in praise of the assembly ; bless the bride 
*°d bridegroom, in person of some god. They 
«re tied to rules of flattery. 

Ck. See, good my lord, who is returned ! 



Enter Melantius. 



Ly$. Noble Melantius ! the land, by me, 
Welcomes thy virtues home to Rhodes. 
Thou, that with blood abroad buvest us our peace! 
The breath of kings is like the breath of gods ; 
My brother wished thee here, and thou art here. 
He will be too kind, and weary thee with 
Often welcomes. But the time doth give thee 
A welcome above his, or all the world's. 

Mel. My lord, my thanks ; but these scratched 

limbs of mine 
Have spoke my love and truth unto my friends, 
More than my tongue e'er could. My mind's the 

same 
It ever was to you : Where I find worth 

A 



2 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 8$ 



I love the keeper till he let it go, 
And then I follow it. 

Diph. Hail, worthy brother ! 
He, that rejoices not at your return 
In safety, is mine enemy for ever. • 

MeL I thank thee, Diphilus. But thou art 
faulty ; 
I sent for thee to exercise thine arms 
With me at Patria: Thou cam'st not, Diphilus; 
It was ill. 

Diph. My noble brother, my excuse 
Is my king's straight command ; which you, my lord, 
Can witness with me. 

Lys. It is true, Melantius ; 
He might not come, till the solemnity 
Of this great match was past. 

Diph. Have you heard of it ? 

MeL Yes. I have given cause to those, that 
Envy my deeds abroad, to call me gamesome : 
I have no other business here at Rhodes. 

Lys. We have a masque to-night, and you must 
tread 
A soldier's measure. 

Mel. These soft and silken wars are not for mc : 
The music must be shrill, and all confused, 
That stirs my blood ; and then I dance with arms. 
But is Amintor wed ? 

Diph. This day. 

MeL All joys upon him ! for he is my friend. 
Wonder not, that I call a man so young my friend : 
His worth is great; valiant he is, and temperate; 
And one that never thinks his life his own, 
If his friend need it. When he was a boy, 
As oft as I returned (as, without boast, 
I brought home conquest) he would gaze upon me, 
And view me round, to find in what one Limb 
The virtue lay to do those things he heard. 
Then would he wish to see my sword, and feel 
The quickness of the edge, and in his hand 
Weigh it : He oft would make me smile at this. 
His youth did promise much, and his ripe years 
Will see it all performed. 

Enter Aspatia, passing by. 

Hail, maid and wife ! 
Thou fair Aspatia, may the holy knot, 
That thou hast tied to-day, last till the hand 
Of age undo it ! mayest thou bring a race 
Unto Amintor, that may fill the world 
Successively with soldiers ! 

Asp. My hard fortunes 
Deserve not scorn ; for I was never proud, 
When they were good, ' [JZxit. 

Mel. How is this ? 

Lys. You are mistaken, 
For she is not married. 

MeL You said Amintor was, 

Diph. It is true ; but 

MeL Pardon me, I did receive 
Letters at Patria from my Amintor, 
That he should marry her. 

Diph. And so it stood 
Ip all opinion long ; but your arrival 



Made me imagine, you had heard the change. 

MeL Who hath he taken then? 

Lys. A lady, sir, 
That bears the light above her, and strikes dead 
With flashes of her eye : the fair Evadne, 
Your virtuous sister. 

MeL Peace of heart betwixt them ! 
But this is strange. 

Lys. The king my brother did it 
To honour you; and these solemnities 
Are at his charge. 

MeL It is royal, like himself. But I am sad 
My speech bears so unfortunate a sound 
To beautiful Aspatia. There is rage 
Hid in her father's breast, Calianax, 
Bent long against me; and he should not think, 
If I could call it back, that I would take 
So base revenges, as to scorn the state 
Of his neglected daughter. Holds he still 
His greatness with the king ? 

Lys. Yes. But this lady 
Walks discontented, with her watery eyes 
Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods 
Are her delight; and, when she sees a bank 
Stuck full of flowers, she, with a sigh, will tell 
Her servants, what a pretty place it were 
To bury lovers in ; and make her maids 
Pluck them, and strew her over like a corse. 
She carries with her an infectious grief, 
That strikes all her beholders ; she will sine 
The moumfullest things, that ever ear hath beared 
And sigh, and sing again fand, when the rest 
Of our young ladies, in their wanton blood, 
Tell mirthful tales in course, that fill the room 
With laughter, she will, with so sad a look, 
Bring forth a story of the silent death 
Of some forsaken virgin, which her grief 
Will put in such a phrase, that, ere she end, 
She'll send them weeping one by one away. 

MeL She has a brother under my command, 
like her ; a face as womanish as hers ; 
But with a spirit, that hath much out-grown 
The number of his years. 

Enter Amintor. 

Cle. My lord, the bridegroom ! 

MeL I might run fiercely, not more hastily, 
Upon my foe. I love thee, well, Amintor ; 
My mouth is much too narrow for my heart ; 
I joy to look upon those eyes of thine ; 
Thou art my friend, but my disordered speech 
Cuts off my love, 

Amin., Thou art Melantius ; 
All love is spoke in that. A sacrifice, 
To thank the gods Melantius is returu'd 
In safety ! Victory sits on his sword, 
As she was wont: May she build there and dwell; 
And may thy armour be, as it hath been, 
Only thy valour and thy innocence \ 
What endless treasures would our enemies give, 
That I might hold thee still thus ! 

MeL I am but poor 
In words; but credit me, young man, thy mother 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Could do no more bat weep for joy to see thee 
After Joag absence : All the wounds, I have, 
Fetch 'd not so much away, nor all the cries 
Of widowed, mothers. But this is peace, 
And that was war. 

Amn. Pardon, thou holy god 
Of marriage-bed, and frown not; I am forc'd, 
In answer of such noble tears as those, 
To weep upon my wedding-day. 

McLl fear thou art grown too fickle; for I hear 
A lady mourns for thee ; men say, to death ; 
Forsaken of thee; on what terms I know not. 

Jmn. She had my promise; but the king forbad it, 
And made me make this worthy change, thy sister, 
Accompanied with graces far above her; 
With whom I long to lose my lusty youth, 
And grow old in her arms. 
MeL Be prosperous ! 

Enter Messenger. 

Mess. My lord, the masquers rage for you. 

hfs. We are gone. Cleon, Strato, Dipnilus — 

Ami*. We will all attend you. We shall trouble 
you 
With our solemnities. 

MeL Not so, Amintor : 
Bet if you laugh at my rude carriage 
In peace, FU do as much for you in war, 
When you come thither. Yet I have a mistress 
To bring to your delights ; rough though I am, 
1 hare a mistress, and she has a heart, 
She says ; but, trust me, it is stone, no better ; 
There is no place, that I can challenge in it. 
Bat you stand still, and here my way lies. 

'Enter Calianax with Diacoras. 

CaL Diagoras, look to the doors better, for 
shame ! you let in all the world, and anon the 
king will rail at me — why, very well said — by 
Jore, the king will have the show in the court 

Diag. Why do you swear so, my lord ? You 
know, he wilf have it here. 

CaL By this light, if he be wise, he will hot. 

Diag. And, if he will not be wise, you are for- 
sworn. 

Cat. One may wear out his heart with swear- 
ing and get thanks on no side. Ill be gone — 
look to it, who will 

Diag. My lord, I shall never keep them out. 
Pray, stay ; your looks will terrify them. 

CmL Ay looks terrify them, you coxcombly 
«», you ! I will be judged by all the company, 
whether thou hast not a worse face than I. 

Diag. I mean, because they know you and 
toot office. 

Col Office ! I would I could put it off: I am 
aire I sweat quite through my office. I might 
bare made room at my daughter's wedding : they 
have near killed her among them; and now I 
mast do service for him, that hath forsaken her. 
S*rve, that will. [Exit. 

Diag. He is so humourous since his daughter 
was forsaken. — Hark, hark ! there, there ! so, so ! 
Codes, Codes ! [Knock within.] What now ? I 



Mel [within.] Open the door. 
Diag. Who is there ? 
Mel. [within] Melantius. 
Diag. I hope your lordship brings no troop 
with you ; for, if you do, I must return them. 

Enter Melantius and a Lady. 

Mel. None but this lady, sir. 

Diag. The ladies are all placed above, save 
those, that come in the king s troop : The best 
of Rhodes sit there, and there is room. 

Mel. I thank you, sir. When I have seen you 
placed, madam, I must attend the king ; but, the 
masque done, 111 wait on you again. 

Diag. Stand back there — room for my lord 
Melantius — pray, bear back — this is no place for 
such youths and their trulls — let the doors shut 
again. — No !— do your heads itch ? I will scratch 
them for you. — So, now thrust and hang. — Again ! 
who is it now ? — I cannot blame my lord Cali- 
anax for going away : Would he were here ! he 
would run raging among them, and break a dozen 
wiser heads tnan his own, in the twinkling of an 
eye. — What's the news now ? 

Within.] I pray you, can you help me to the 
speech of the master-cook ? 

Diag. If I open the door, I will cook some of 
your calves heads. Peace, rogues ! — Again ! who 
is it? 

Mel. [within.] Melantius. 

Enter Calianax. 

Cal. Let him not in, 

Diag. O, my lord, I must Make room there 
for my lord. 

Enter Melantius. 
Is your lady placed ? [To Mel. 

Mel. Yes, sir, 
I thank you. My lord Calianax, well met. 
Your causeless hate to me, I hope, is buried. 

Cal. Yes, I do service for your sister here, 
That brings my own poor child to timeless death -. 
She loves your friend Amintor ; such another 
False-hearted lord as you. 

MeL You do me wrong, 
A most unmanly one. and I am slow 
In taking vengeance ! But be well advised. 

Cal. It may be so. Who placed the lady there, 
So near the presence of the king ? 

Mel. I did. 

CaL Mv lord, she must not sit there. 

Mel. Why? 

CaL The place is kep for women of more worth. 

Mel. More worth than she ? It inis-becomcs 
your age, 
And place, to be thus womanish. Forbear ! 
What you have spoke, I am content to think 
The palsy shook your tongue to. 

CaL Why, it is well, if I stand here to place 
men's wenches. 

Mel. I shall forget this place, thy age, my safety, 
And, thorough all, cut that poor sickly week, 
Thou hast to live, away from thee. 

Cal. Nay, I know you can fight for your whore. 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont Sf 



Mel. Bate the king, and be he flesh and blood, 
He lies, that says it ! Thy mother at fifteen 
Was black and sinful to her. 

Diag. Good my lord ! 

Mel. Some god pluck threescore years from 
that fond many 
That I may kill him, and not stain mine honour. 
It is the curse of soldiers, that in peace 
They shall be braved by such ignoble men, 
As, if the land were troubled, would with tears 
And knees beg succour from them. 'Would, that 

blood, 
That sea of blood, that I have lost in fight, 
Were running in thy veins, that it might make thee 
Apt to say less, or able to maintain, 
Snould'st thou say more ! This Rhodes, I see, is 

nought 
But a place privileged to do men wrong. 

Cal. Ay, you may say your pleasure. 

Enter Amintor. 

Amin. What vile injury 
Has stirred my worthy friend, who is as slow 
To fight with words as he is quick of hand ? 

Mel. That heap of age, which I should reve- 
rence, 
If it were temperate ; but testy years 
Are most contemptible. 

Amin. Good sir, forbear. 

Cut. There is just such another as yourself. 

Amin. He will wrong you, or me, or any man, 
And talk as if he had no life to lose, 
Since this our match. The king is coming in : 
I would not for more wealth than I enjoy, 
He should perceive you raging. He did hear 
You were at difference now, which hastened him. 

Cal. Make room there ! [Hautboys play within. 

JEnfcrKiNG, Evadne, Aspatia, lords, and ladies. 

King. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my love 
Is with thee still : But this is not a place 
To brabble in. Calianax, join hands. 

Cal. He shall not have my hand. 

King. This is no time 
To force you to it. I do love you both : 
Calianax, you look well to your office ; 
And you, Melantius, are welcome home. 
Begin the masque ! 

Mel. Sister, I joy to see you, and your choice. 
You looked with my eyes, when you took that man: 
Be happy in him ! [Recorders play. 

Evad. O, my dearest brother ! 
Your presence is more joyful than this day 
Can be unto me. 

THE MASQUE. 

Night rises in mists. 
Night. Our reign is come; for in the raging sea 
The sun is drowned, and with him fell the day. 
Bright Cinthia, hear my voice ; I am the Night, 
For whom thou bear'st about thy borrowed light 
Appear ; no longer thy pale visage shroud, 
But strike thy silver horns quite through a cloud, 
And send a beam upon my swarthy face ; 



By which I may discover all the place 
And persons, and how many Longing eyet 
Are come to wait on our solemnities. 

Enter Cinthia. 

How dull and black am I ! I could not find 
This beauty without thee, I am so blind. 
Methinks, they shew like to those eastern streaks, 
That warn us hence, before the morning breaks. 
Back, my pale servant, for these eyes know how 
To shoot far more and quicker rays than thou. 

Cinth. Great queen, they be a troop, for whom 
alone 
One of my clearest moons I have put on ; 
A troop, that looks as if thyself and I 
Had plucked our reins in, and our whips laid by, 
To gaze upon these mortals, that appear 
Brighter than we. 

Night. Then let us keep them here ; 
And never more our chariots drive away, 
But hold our places, and out-shine the clay. 

Cinth. Great queen of shadows, you are pleased 
to speak 
Of more than may be done :. We may not break 
The gods' decrees ; but, when our time is come, 
Must drive away, and give the day our room. 

Night. Then shine at full, fair queen, and by 
thy power 
Produce a birth, to crown this happy hour, 
Of nymphs and shepherds : Let tneir songs dis- 
cover, 
Easy and sweet, who is a happy lover. 
Or, if thou woo't, then call thine own Endymion, 
From the sweet flowery bed he lies upon, 
On Latmus' top, thy pale beams drawn away ; 
And of this long night let him make a day. 

Cinth. Thou dream'st, dark queen; that fair 
boy was not mine, 
Nor went I down to kiss him. Ease and wine 
Have bred these bold tales : Poets, when they rage, 
Turn, gods to men, and make an hour an age. 
But I will give a greater state and glory, 
And raise to time a noble memory 
Of what these lovers are. Rise, rise, I say, 
Thou power of deeps ; thy surges lade away, 
Neptune, great king of waters, and by me 
Be proud to be commanded. 

Neptune rises. 

Nept. Cinthia, see, 
Thy word hath fetch'd me hither : Let me know, 
Why I ascend ? 

Cinth. Doth this majestic show 
Give thee no knowledge yet ? 

Nept . Yes, now I see 
Something intended, Cinthia, worthy thee. 
Go on ; I'll be a helper. 

Cinth. Hie thee, then, 
And charge the wind fly from his rocky den. 
Let loose thy subjects ; only Boreas, 
Too foul for our intention, as he was, 
Still keep him fast chained : We must have none 

here 
But vernal blasts, and gentle winds appear ; 



[Fletghsi. 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



o 



Such as blow flowers, and thro' the glad boughs 



Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring : 
flbese are our music. Next, thy watery race 
Bring on in couples (we are pleased to grace 
This noble night), each in their richest tilings 
Your own deeps or the broken vessel, brings. 
Be prodigal, and I shall be as kind, 
Ana shine at full upon you. 

Nept. Ho ! the wind- 
Commanding £olus ! 

Enter TEolus, out of a rock. 

MoL Great Neptune ? 

Nept. He. 

MoL What is thy will ? 

Nept. We do command thee free 
Fsronins, and thy milder winds, to wait 
Upon our Cintbia ; but tie Boreas straight ; 
He's too rebellious. 

MoL I shall do it. 

Nept Do. 

MoL Great master of the flood, and all below, 

Thy full command has taken. Ho ! the Main ! 

Neptune! 

Nept. Here. 

Mol. Boreas has broke his chain, 
And, struggling, with the rest has got away. 

Nept. Let him alone, I'll take Kim up at sea ; 
He will not long be thence. Go once again, 
And call out of the bottoms of the main 
Blue Proteus, and the rest ; charge them put on 
Their greatest pearls, and the most sparkling stone 
The beaten rock breeds ; 'till this night is done 

ar me a solemn honour to the moon, 
y, like a full sail. 
MoL I am gone. 
Cinth. Dark Night, 
Strike a full silence ; do a thorough right 
To this great chorus; that our music may 
Touch high as heaven, and make the east break 

• day 
At mid-night. [Music. 

SONG. 

Cintkia, to thy power and thee, 

We obey. 
Joy to this great company ! 

And no day 
Come to steal this night away, 

y Till the rites of love are ended ; 
And the lusty bridegroom say, 
Welcome, light, of all befriended. 

Pace out, you watery powers below ; 

Let yourjeet, 
like the gallics when they row, 

Even beat. 
Letyour unknown measures, set 
To the still winds, tell to all, 
That gods are come, immortal, great, 
To honour this great nuptial. 

{The measure. 



SONG. 

Hold back thy hours, dark Night, till we have 
done: 

The day will come too soon ; 
Young maids will curse thee, if thou steaVst away, 
And leav'st their losses open to the day : 

Stay, stay, and hide 

The blushes of the bride. 
Stay, gentle Night, and with thy darkness cover 

The kisses of her lover. 
Stay, and confound her tears, and her shrill cry- 
ing** 
Her weak denials, vows, and often dyings ; 

Stay, and hide all, 

But help not, thd she call. 

Nept. Great queen of us and heaven, hear 
what I bring 
To make this hour a full one, 
If not o'ermeasure. 

Cinth. Speak, sea's king. 

Nept. The tunes my Ainphitrite joys to have, 
When they will dance upon the rising wave, 
And court me as she sails. My tritons, play 
Music to lead a storm ; I'll lead the wav. 

[Measure. 

SONG. 

To bed, to bed ; come Hymen, lead the bride 7 
And lay her by her husband's side : 

Bring in the virgins every one, 

That grieve to he alone ; 
That ihey may kiss while they may say, a maid; 
To-morrow, 'twill be other, kisid, and said. 

Hesperus be long a shining, 

Whilst these lovers are a-twining. 

Mol. Ho ! Neptune ! 

Nept. jfcolus! 

MoL The seas go high, 
Boreas hath rais'd a storm : Go and apply 
Thy trident ; else, I prophesy, ere day 
Many a tall ship will be cast away. 
Descend with all thy gods, and all their power, 
To strike a calm. 

Cinth. A thanks to every one, and to gratulate 
So great a service, done at my desire, 
Ye shall have many floods, fuller and higher 
Than you have wished for ; no ebb shall dare 
To let the day see, where your dwellings are. 
Now back unto your government in haste, 
Lest your proud charge should swell above the 

waste, 
And win upon the island. 

Nept. We obey. 

S Neptune descends, and the sea gods. 
d up thy head, dead Night; seest 
thou not day ? 
The east begins to lighten : I must down, 
And give my brother place. 
Night. Oh, I could frown 
To see the Day ; the Day, that flings his light 
Upon my kingdom, and contemns old Night ! 



6 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Beaumont tf 



Let him go on and flame ! 1 hope to see 
Another wild-fire in his axletree ; 
And all fail drenched. But I forgot; speak, queen. 
The day grows on ; I must no more be seen. 

Cinth. Heave up thy drowsy head again, and see 
A greater light, a greater majesty, 
Between our sect and us ! Whip up thy team ! 
The day-break's here, and yon sun-flaring beam 
Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou go ? 

Night. Hi vanish into mists. 



Cinth. I into day. 

The 'Masque Ends. 



[Exeunt. 



King. Take lights there. Ladies, get the bride 
to bed. 
We will not sec you laid. Good nighty Amintor ; 
We'll ease you of that tedious ceremony. 
Were it my case, I should think time run slow. 

Amin. All happiness to you. 

King. Good night, Melantius. [Exeunt. 



ACT IL 



Enter Evadke, Aspatia, Dula, and other la- 
dies. 

Evad* Dl*la, 'Would, thou could'st instil 
Some of thy mirth into Aspatia ! 
Nothing but sad thoughts in her breast do dwell : 
Methinks, a mean betwixt you would do well. 

Dula. She is in love : Hang me, if I were so, 
But I could run my country. I love, too, 
To do those things that people in love do. 

Asp* It were a timeless smile should prove my 
check : 
It were a fitter hour for me to laugh, 
When at the altar the religious priest 
Were pacifying the offended powers 
With sacrifice, than now. This should have been 
My night : and all your hands have been employed 
In giving me a spotless offering 
To young Amintor's bed, as we are now 
For you. Pardon, Evadne ; 'would, my 'worth 
Were great as yours, or that the king, or he, 
Or both, thought so ! Perhaps, he found me worth- 
less: 
But, till he did so, in these ears of mine, 
These credulous cars, he poured theswee test words 
That art or love could frame. If he were false, 
Pardon it, Heaven ! And if I did want 
Virtue, you safely may forgive that too ; 
For I have lost none, that I had from you. 

Evad. Nay, leave this sad talk, madam. 

Asp. 'Would, I could ! then should I leave the 
cause. 

Evad. See, if you have not spoiled all Dula's 
mirth. 

Asp. Thou thinkest thy heart hard; but if thou 
be'st caught, 
Remember me ; thou shaft perceive a fire 
Shot suddenly into thee. 

Dula. That's not so good ; let them shoot any 
thing but fire, I fear them not 

Asp. Well, wench, thou ma/st be taken. 

Evad. Ladies, good night: I'll do the rest myself. 

Dula. Nay, let your lord do some. 

Asp. Lav a garland on my hearse, 



ay a g 
Oft hi 



e dismal yew. 

Evad. That's one of your sad songs, madam. 
Asp. Believe me, 'tis a very pretty one. 
Evad. How is it, madam ? 



SONG. 



Asp. Lay a garland on my hearse. 

Of the dismal yew ; 
Maidens, willow branches hear ; 

Say, I died true : 
My love was false, but I was firm 

From my hour of birth. 
Upon my buried body lie 

Lightly, gentle earth f 

Evad. Fie on it, madam ! the words are so 
strange, they are able to make one dream of hob- 
goblins. ' I could never have the power :' Sing 
that, Dula. 

Dula. I could never have the pow'r 
To love one above an hour, 
But my heart would prompt minte$c 
On some other man to fly : 
Venus, fix thou mine eyes fast, 

Or, if not, give me all that 1 shall see at last. 

Evad. So, leave me now. 

Dula. Nay, we must see you laid. 

Asp. Madam, good night May all the mar- 
riage joys 
That longing maids imagine in their beds, 
Prove so unto you. May no discontent 
Grow 'twixt your love and you ! But, if there do, 
Enquire of me, and I will guide your moan ; 
Teach you an artificial way to grieve, 
To keep your sorrow waking. Love your lord 
No worse than I ; but, if you love so well, 
Alas, you may displease him ', so did I. 
This is the last time you shall look on me. 
Ladies, farewell. As soon as I am dead, 
Come all, and watch one night about my hearse • 
Bring each a mournful story, and a tear, 
To offer at it, when I go to earth. 
With flattering ivy clasp my coffin round; 
Write on my brow my fortune ; let my bier 
Be borne by virgins, that shall sing, by course, 
The truth of maids, and perjuries of men. 

Evad. Alas, I pity thee. [Exit Evad, 

Omnes. Madam, good night. 

1 Lady. Come, we'll let in the bridegroom. 

Dula. Where's my lord ? 

Enter Amintor. 
1 Lady. Here, take this light. 



]?LlKtCBEB. 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Asp. Go, and be happy in your lady's love. 
May all the wrongs, that you nave done to me, 
Be utterly forgotten in my death ! 
VU trouble yoa no more ; yet I will take 
A parting kiss, and will not be denied. 
You'll come, my lord, and see the virgins weep, 
When I am laid in earth, though you yourself 
Can know no pity. Thus I wind myself 
Into this willow garland, and am prouder, 
That I was once four love) though now refused, 
Than to hare had another true to me. 
So with my prayers I leave you, and must try 
Some yet unpractised way to grieve and die. [Exit. 

Duia. Come, ladies, will you go ? 

Omnes. Good night, my lord. 

Ami*. Much happiness unto you all ! 

[Exeunt ladies. 
I did that lady wrong *. Methinks, I feel 
Her grief shoot suddenly through all my veins. 
Ifine eyes run : This is strange at such a time. 
It was the king first moved me to't ; but lie 
Has not my will in keeping. Why do I 
Perplex myself thus ? Something whispers me, 
1 Go not to bed/ My guilt is not so great 
As my own conscience, too sensible, 
Would make me think : I only brake a promise, 
And 'twas the king that forced me. Timorous flesh, 
Why shakta thou so ? Away, my idle fears ! 

Enter Evadne* 

fonder she is, the lustre of whose eye 
Can blot away the sad remembrance 
Of all these things. Oh, my Evadne, spare 
That tender body ; let it not take cold. 
The vapours of the night will not fall here ; 
To bed; my love. Hymen will punish us 
For being slack performers of his rites. 
Cam'st thou to call me ? 

Evad. No. 

Ami*. Come, come, my love, 
And let us loose ourselves to one another. 
Why art thou up so long ? 

Evad. I am not welL 

Ami*. To bed then; let me wind thee in these 
arms, 
Till I have banished sickness. / 

Evad. Good my lord, 
I cannot sleep. 

Amn. Evadne, we will watch ; 
I mean no sleeping. 

Evad. HI not go to bed. 

Amn. I prithee, do. 

Evad. I will not for the world. 

Amin. Why, my dear love ? 

Evad. Why ? I have sworn I will not. 

Amn. Sworn ! 

Evad. Ay. 

Amin. How ! sworn, Evadne ? 

Evad. Yes, sworn, Amintor ; 
And will swear again, if you wUl wish to hear me. 

Amin. To whom have you sworn this ? 

Evad. If I should name him, the matter were 
not great. 



Amin. Come, this is but the coyness of a bride. 

Evad. The coyness of a bride r 

Amin. How prettily that frown becomes thee. 

Evad. Do you like it so ? 

Amin. Thou canst not dress thy face in such a 
look, 
But I shall like it 

Evad. What look likes you best ? 

Amin. Why do you ask r • 

Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing 
to you. 

Amin. How's that ? 

Evad. That I may shew you one less pleasing 
to you. 

Amin. I prithee, put thy jests in milder looks. 
It shews as thou wert angry. 

Evad. So, perhaps, 
I am indeed. 

Amin. Why, who has done thee wrong ? 
Name me the man, and by thyself I swear, 
Thy yet un-conquer'd self, I will revenge thee. 

Evad. Now i shall try thy truth. If thou dost 
love me, 
Thou weighcst not any thing compared with me : 
Life, honour, joys eternal, all delights 
This world can yield, or hopeful people feign, 
Or in the life to come, are light as air 
To a true lover, when his lady frowns, 
And bids him do this. Wilt thou kill this man ? 
Swear, my Amintor, and I'll kiss the sin 
Off from thy lips. 

Amin. I will not swear, sweet love, 
Till I do know the cause. 
• Evad. I would, thou would'st 
Why, it is thou, that wrongest me ; I hate thee ; 
Thou shoukPst have killed thyself. 

Amin. If I should know that, I should quickly 
kill 
The man, you hated. 

Evad. Know it then, and do it 

Amin. Oh, no ; what look soe'er thou shaltput on 
To try my faith, I shall not think thee false : 
I cannot find one blemish in thy face, ' 

Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to bed. 
This cannot be 

Thy natural temper. Shall I call thy maids ? 
Either thy healthful sleep hath left thee long, 
Or else some fever rages in thy blood. 

Evad. Neither, Amintor : Think you I am mad, 
Because I speak the truth ? 

Amin. Will you not lie with me to-night ? 

Evad.To^night ! you talk as if I would hereafter. 

Amin. Hereafter ! yes, I do. 

Evad. You are deceived. 
Put off amazement, and with patience mark 
What I shall utter ; for the oracle 
Knows nothing truer : 'tis not for a night 
Or two, that I forbear thy bed, but for ever. 

Amin. I dream ! Awake, Amintor ! 

Evad. You hear right 
I sooner will find out the beds of snakes, 
And with my youthful blood warm their cold flesh, 
Letting them curl themselves about my limbs, 



8 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont fr 



Than sleep one night with thee. This is not i 

feigned, 
Nor sounds it like the coyness of a bride. 

Amin. Is flesh so earthly to endure all this ? 
Are these the joys of marriage ? Hymen, keep 
This story (that will make succeeding youth 
Neglect thy ceremonies) from all ears ; 
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine, 
To after-ages : We will scorn thy laws, 
If thou no better bless them, louch the heart 
Of her, that thou hast sent me, or the world 
Shall know : There's not an altar, that will smoke 
In praise of thee ; we will adopt us sons ; 
Then virtue shall inherit, and not blood. 
I do rage in vain ; 

She can but jest. O, pardon mc, my love ! 
So dear the thoughts are that I hold of thee, 
That I must break forth. Satisfy my fear; 
It is a pain, beyond the hand of death, ' 
To be in doubt : Confirm it with an oath, 
If this be true. 

Evad. Do vou invent the form : 
Let there be in it all the binding words 
Devils and conjurers can put together, 
And I will take it. I have sworn before, 
And here, by all things holy, do again, 
Never to be acquainted with thy bed. 
Is your doubt over now ? 

Amin. I know too much. 'Would I had doubt- 
ed still ! 
Was ever such a marriage night as this ! 
Ye powers above, if you did ever mean 
Man should be used thus, you have thought a way 
How he may bear himself, and save his honour. 
Instruct me in it ; for to my dull eyes 
There is no mean, no moderate course to run : 
I must live scorned, or be a murderer. 
Is there a third ? Why is this night so calm ? 
Why does not heaven speak in thunder to us, 
And drown her voice ? 

Evad. This rage will do no good. 

Amin. Evadne, hear me : Thou hast ta'en an oath, 
But such a rash one, that, to keep it, were 
Worse than to swear it : Call it back to thee ; 
Such vows as those never ascend to heaven ; 
A tear or two will wash it quite away. 
Have mercy on my youth, my hopeful youth, 
If thou be pitiful ; for, without boast, 
This land was proud of me. What lady was there, 
That men called fair and virtuous in this isle, 
That would have shunned my love ? It is in thee 
To make me hold this worth. Oh ! we vain men, 
That trust out all our reputation. 
To rest upon the weak and yielding hand 
Of feeble woman ! But thou art not stone ; 
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell 
The spirit of love ; thy heart cannot be hard. 
Come, lead me, from the bottom of despair, 
To all the joys thou hast ; I know, thou wilt ; 
And make mc careful, lest the sudden cliange 
O'ercome my spirits. 

Etad. When I call back this oath, 
The pains of hell environ me ! 



Amin. I sleep, and am too temperate ! Come to 
bed! 
Or by those hairs, which, if thou haust a soul 
like to thy locks, were threads for kings to wear 
About their arms 

Evad. Why, so, perhaps, they are. 

Amin. I will drag thee to my bed, and make thy 
tongue 
Undo this wicked oath, or on thy. flesh 
I'll print a thousand wounds to let out life ! 

Evad. I fear thee not. Do what thou darest to 
me ! 
Every ill-sounding word, or threatening look, 
Thou shewest to me, will be revenged at full. 

Amin. It will not, sure, Evadne r 

Evad. Do not you hazard that. 

Amin. Have you your champions ? 

Evad. Alas, Amintor, thinkest thou I forbear 
To sleep with thee, because I have put on 
A maiden's strictness? Look upon these cheeks, 
And thou shalt find the hot and rising blood 
Unapt for such a vow. No; in this heart 
There dwells as much desire as ever yet 
Was known to woman. 
But it was the folly of thy youth 
To think this beauty, to what land soever 
It shall be called, shall stoop to any second. 
I do enjoy the best, and in that height 
Have sworn to stand or die : You guess the man. 

Amin. No; let me know the man, that wrongs 
me so, 
That I may cut his body into motes, 
And scatter it before the northern wind. 

Evad. You dare not strike him. 

Amin. Do not wrong me so. 
Yes, if his body were a poisonous plant, 
That it were death to touch, I have a soul 
Will throw me on him. 

Evad. Why, it is the king. 

Amin. The king! 

Evad. What will you do now ? 

Amin. It is not the king 1 

Evad. What did he male this match for, dull 
Amintor ? 

Amin. Oh, thou hast named a word, that wipes 
away 
All thoughts revengeful ! In that sacred name, 
' The king,' there lies a terror. What frail man 
Dares lift his hand against it ? Let the gods 
Speak to him, when they please; till when, let us 
Suffer, and wait 

Evad. Why should you fill yourself so full of 
heat, 
And haste so to my bed ? I am no virgin. 

Amin. What devil put it in thy fancy, then, 
To marry me ? 

Evad. Alas, I must have one 
To father children, and to bear the name 
Of husband to me, that my sin may be 
More honourable, 

Amin. What a strange thing am 1 1 

Evad. A miserable one; one, that myself 
Am sorrv for. 



Fletchbk.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Why, shew it then in this : 
If thou hast pity, though thy love he none, 
Kill me; and all true lovers, that shall live 
la after ages, crossed in their desires, 
Sail bless thy memory, and call thee good ; 
ffcnmae such mercy in thy heart was found, 
To rid a lingering wretch. 

Evad. I must have one 
To fill thy room again, if thou wert dead ; 
Eke, by this night, I would: I pity thee. 

Ami*. These strange and sudden injuries have 
fallen 
So thick upon me, that I lose all sense 
Of what they are. Methinks, I am not wronged ; 
Nor is it aught, if from the censuring world 
I can but hide it Reputation ! 
Thou art a word, no more. — But thou hast shewn 
An impudence so high, that to the world 
I fear thou wilt betray or shame thyself. 

Etad. To cover shame, I took thee; never fear 
That I would blaze myself. 

Ami*. Nor let the king 
Know, I conceive he wrongs me ; then mine honour 
Hill thrust me into action, though ray flesh 
Could bear with patience. And it is some ease 
To me m these extremes, that I knew this, 
Before I touched thee ; else, had all the sins 
Of mankind stood betwixt me and the king, 
I had gone through them to his Heart and thine. 
I have lost one desire : *Tis not his crown 
Shall buy me to thy bed now, I resolve. 
He has dishonoured thee. Give me thy hand ; 
Be careful of thy credit, and sin close ; 
Tts all I wish. Upon thy chamber floor 
HI rest to-night, that morning visitors 
May think we did as married people use. 
And, prithee, smile- upon me when they come, 
And seem to toy, as if thou hadst been pleased 
'With what we did. 
Evad. Fear not; I will do this. 
Amin. Come, let us practise; and, as wantonly 
As ever loving bride and bridegroom met, 
Let's laugh and enter here. 
Evad. I am content. 

Amin. Down ail the swellings of my troubled 
heart! 
When we walk thus entwined, let all eyes see, 
If ever lovers better did agree. [Exeunt. 

Enter Aspatia, Antiphila, and Olympias. 

Asp. Away, you are not sad ; force it no further. 
Good gods, how well you look ! Such a full colour 
Young bashful brides put on. Sure, you are new 
married! 

Ant. Yes, madam, to your grief. 

Asp. Alas, poor wenches ! 
Co learn to love first; learn to lose yourselves; 
Learn to be flattered, and believe, and bless 
The double tongue, that did it. Make a faith 
Out of the miracles of ancient lovers, 
Sodi as spake truth, and died in it ; and, like me, 
Before all faithful, and be miserable. 
Did jou ne'er love yet, wenches ? Speak, 01 vmpias: 



Thou hast an easy temper, fit for stamp, 
Olym. Never. 
Asp, Nor you, Antiphila r 
Ant. Nor 1. 

Asp. Then, my good girls, be more than women, 
wise: 
At least, be more than I was; and be sure 
You -credit any thing the light gives light to, 
Before a man. Rather believe the sea 
Weeps for the ruined merchant, when he roars; 
Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sails, 
When the strong cordage cracks ; rather, the sua 
Comes but to kiss the fruit in wealthy autumn, 
When all falls blasted. If you needs must love, 
(Forced by ill fate) take to your maiden bosoms 
Two dead-cold aspicks, and of them make lovers: 
They cannot flatter, nor forswear; one kiss 
Makes a long peace for all But man, 
Oh, that beast man ! Come, let's be sad, my girls ! 
That down-cast of thine eye, Olympias, 
Shews a fine sorrow. Mark, Antipnila; 
Just such another was the nymph CEnone, 
When Paris brought home Helen. Now, a tear; 
And then thou art a piece expressing fully 
The Carthage queen, when, from a cold sea-rock, 
Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes 
To the fair Trojan ships ; and, having lost them, 
Just as thine eyes do, down stole a tear. Antiphila, 
What would this wench do, if she were Aspatia? 
Here she would stand, till some more pitying god 
Turned her to marble ! It is enough, my wench ! 
Shew me the piece of needlework you wrought. 

Ant. Of Ariadne, madam? 

Asp. Yes, that piece. 
This should be Theseus; he has a cozening face : 
You meant him for a man ? 

Ant. He was so, madam. 

Atp. Why, then, 'tis well enough. Never look 
back; 
You have a full wind, and a false heart, Theseus! 
Does not the story say 1 his keel was split, 
Or his masts spent, or some kind rock or other 
Met with his vessel ? 

Ant. Not as I remember. 

Asp. It should have been so. Could die gods 
know this, 
And not, of all their number, raise a storm? 
But they are all as ill ! This false smile was 
Well expressed; just such another caught me ! 
You shall not go on so, Antiphila : 
In this place work a quicksand, 
And over it a shallow smiling water, 
And his ship ploughing it; and then a Fear: 
Do that Fear to the life, wench. 

Ant. It will wrong the story. 

Asp. It will make the story, wronged by wanton 
poets, 
Live long, and be believed. But w here's the lady ? 

Ant. There, madam. 

Asp. Fie ! you have missed it here, Antiphila ; 
You are much mistaken, wench : 
These colours are not dull and pale enough 
To shew a soul so full of misery 



10 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Beaumont if 



As this sad lady's was. Do it by me ; 

Do it again, by me, the lost Aspatda, 

And you shall find all true, but the wild island. 

Suppose I stand upon the sea-beach now, 

Mine arms thus, and mine hair blown with the 

wind, 
Wild as that desart ; and let all about me 
Tell, that I am forsaken. Do my face 
(If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow) 
Thus, thus, Antiphila: Strive to make me look 
like sorrow's monument ! And the trees about me, 
Let them be dry and leafless; let the rocks 
Groan with continual surges; and, behind me, 
Make all a desolation. Look, look, wenches ! 
A miserable life of this poor picture ! 

Ofym. Dear madam ! 

Asp. I have done. Sit down; and let us 
Upon that point fix all our eyes; that point there. 
Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sadness 
Give us new souls. 

Enter Calianax. 

Cal. The king may do this, and he may not do it : 
My child is wronged, disgraced. Well, how now, 
huswives ! 



What, at your ease? Is this a time to sit still? 
Up, you young lazy rogues, up, or HI swinge you ! 

Olym. Nay, pood my lord, 

Cal. You'U lie down shortly. Get you in, and 
work! 
What, are you grown so resty you want heats? 
We shall have some of the court-boys beat you 
shortly. 

Ant. My lord, we do no more than we are 
charged: 
It is the lady's pleasure we be thus in grief: 
She is forsaken. 

CaL There's a rogue too; 
A young dissembling slave ! Well, get you in! 
I'll have a bout with that boy. "To high time 
Now to be valiant: I confess my youth 
Was never prone that way, What, made an ass? 
A court-stale? Well, I will be valiant, 
And beat some dozen of these whelps; I will ! 
And there's another of them, a trim cheating sol- 
dier; 
I'll maul that rascal ; he has out-braved me twice ; 
But now, I thank the gods, I am valiant 
Go, get you in! I'll take a course with all. [Exeunt. 



ACT HI. 



Enter Cleon, Strato, and Diphilus. 

Cle. Your sister is not up yet 

Diph. Knock at the door. 

Stra. We shall interrupt them. 

DipL No matter. Good morrow, sister! 

Enter Ahintor. 

Amin. Who's there? my brother ! Fm no readier 
yet. 
Your sister is but now up. 

Diph. You look as you had lost your eyes to- 
night : 
I think you have not slept. 

Amin. l'faith I have not. 

Diph. You have done better, then. 

Amin.We ventured for a boy : When he is twelve, 
He shall command against the foes of Rhodes. 
Shall we be merry? 

Stra. You cannot; you want sleep. 

Amin. 'Tis true. — But she, 
As if she had drank Lethe, or had made 
Even with Heaven, did fetch so still a sleep, 
So sweet and sound 

Diph. What's that? 

Amin. Your sister frets 
This morning; and does turn her eyes upon me, 
As people on their headsman. She does chafe 
Ana kiss, and chafe again, and clap my cheeks : 
She's in another world. 

Cleo. You do deserve her. 

Amin. I laid my lips to hers, and that wild breath, 
That was so rude and rough to me last night, 
Was sweet as April. I'll be guilty too, 
If these be the effects. [Aside. 



Enter Melantius. 



Mel. Good day, Amintor ! for, to me, the name 
Of brother is too distant: We are friends, 
And that is nearer. 

Amin. Dear Melantius ! 
Let me behold thee. Is it possible? 

Mel. What sudden gaze is this ? 

Amin. 'Tis wondrous strange ! 

MeL Why does thine eye desire so strict a? 
view 
Of that, it knows so well? There's nothing here, 
That is not thine. 

Amin. I wonder much, Melantius, 
To see those noble looks, that make me think 
How virtuous thou art: And, on the sudden, 
Tis strange to me thou shouldst have worth and 

honour; 
Or not be base, and false, and treacherous, 
And every ill. But - 

MeL Stay, stay, my friend; 
I fear this sound will not become our loves. 
No more; embrace me. 

Amin. Oh, mistake me not: 
I know thee to be full of all those deeds, 
That we frail men call good; but, by the course? 
Of nature, thou shouldst be as quickly changed 
As are the winds; dissembling as the sea, 
That now wears brows as smooth as virgins' be, 
Tempting the merchant to invade his face, 
And in an hour calls his billows up, 
And shoots them at the sun, destroying all 
He carries on him. — Oh, how near am I 
To utter my sick thoughts ! [Aside. 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



11 



Mel But why, my friend, should I be so by na- 
ture? 
Amin. Fve wed thy sister, who hath virtuous 
thoughts 
Enough for one whole family; and it is strange, 
That yon should feel no want. 
McL Before me, this compliment too cunning 
for me. 
What should I be then, by the course of 



they having both robbed me of so much virtue ? 

Stra. Oh, call the bride, my lord Amintor, 
That we may see her brash, and turn her eyes down. 

Amin. £vadne ! 

Eomd. \mithin.] My lord! 

Amin- Come forth, my love ! 
Your brothers do attend to wish you joy. 

RvatL I am not ready yet 

Amin. Enough, enough. 

Evad. The? will mock me. 

Am. Faith, thou shalt come in. 

Enter Evadne. 
Mel Good-morrow, sister ! He that understands 
Whom you have wed, need not to wish you joy; 
You have enough. Take heed 
You be not proud. — Amintor ! 
Amin. Ha! 
Met. Thou art sad. 

Amin* Who, I ? I thank yml for that Shall 
Diphims, thou, and I, sing a catch ? 
Mel How ! 
Amin. Prithee, let us. 
Mel. Nay, that's too much the other way. 
Amin. I am so lightened with my happiness ! 
How dost thou, love ? kiss me. 
Evad. I cannot love you, you tell tales of me. 
jfsw^Nothing but what becomes us. Gentlemen, 
'Would you had all such wives, and all the world, 
That I might be no wonder ! You are all sad : 
What, do you envy me ? I walk, methinks, 
Oa water, and ne'er sink, I am so light 
Mel Tw well you are so. 
Amin. Well ? how can I be other, when she 
looks thus. 
Is there no music there ? let's dance. 
Mel. Why, this is strange, Amintor ! 
Amin. I do not know myself; 
Yet I could wish my joy were less. 
Diph. Til marry too, if it will make one thus. 
Evad Amintor, hark. [Aside. 

Amin; What says my love ? I must obey. 
Ercd. You do it scurvily, it will be perceived. 
Cleo. My lord, the king is here. 

Enter Kino and Lysippus. 

Amin. Where? 

Stra. And his brother. 

King. Good morrow, all ! 
Amintor, joy on joy fall thick upon thee ! 
And, madam, you are altered since I saw you ; 
I most salute you ; you are now another's. 
Amiater, wert thou truly honest, 'till 
Thou wert married? 



Amin. Yes, sir*. 

King. Tell me, then; you will trust me, Amin- 
tor, 
To cause a wife for you again ? 

Amin. No, never, sir. 

King. Why ? like you this so ill? 

Amin. So well I like her, 
For this I bow my knee in thanks to you, 
And unto Heaven will pay my grateful tribute 
Hourly; and do hope we shall draw out 
A long contented hfe together here, 
And me both, full of grey hairs, in one day: 
For which the thanks are yours. But if the powers, 
That rule us, please to call her first away, 
Without pride spoke,* this world holds not a wife, 
Worthy to take tier room. 

King. I do not like this. 
All forbear the room, but you, Amintor, 
And your lady. I have some speech with you, 
That may concern your after living well. 

Amin. He will not tell me, that he lies with her? 
If he do, something heavenly stay my heart, 
For I shall be apt to thrust this arm of mine . 
To acts unlawful ! 

King. You will suffer me to talk 
With her, Amintor, and not have a. jealous pang ? 

Amin. Sir, I dare trust my wife with whom she 
dares 
To talk, and not fee jealous. 

King. How do you like 
Amintor ? 

Evad, As I did, sir; 

King. How is that ? 

Evad. As one that, to fulfil your will and plea- 
sure, 
I have given leave to call -me wife and love. 

King. I see there is no lasting faith m sin ; 
They, that break word with Heaven, will break 

again 
With all the world, and so dost thou with me. 

Evad. How, sir ? 

King. This subtle woman's ignorance 
Will not excuse you : thou hast taken oaths, 
So great, methought, they did not well become 
A woman's mouth, that thou would'st ne'er enjoy 
A man but me. 

Evad. I never did swear so; you do me wrong. 

King. Day and night have heard it 

Evad. I swore, indeed, that I would never love 
A man of lower place; but, if your fortune 
Should throw you from this height, I bade you trust 
I would forsake you, and would bend to him, 
That won your throne : I love with my ambition, 
Not with my eyes. But, if I ever yet 
Touched any other, leprosy light here 
Upon my face; which for your royalty 
I would not stain ! 

Xing. Why, thou dissemblest, and it is in me 
To punish thee. 

Evad. Why, it is in me, then, 
Not to love you, which will more afflict your body, 
Than your punishment can mine. 



12 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont Sf 



King. But thou hast let Amintor he with thee. 

Evad. I have not. 

King. Impudence ! he says himself so. 

Evad. He lies. 

King. lie does not. 

Evad. By this light he does, strangely and 
basely ! 
And I'll prove it so. I did not shun him 
Tor a night; but told him, I would never close 
With him. 

King. Speak lower ; 'tis false. 

Evad. 1 am no man 
To answer with a blow; or, if I were, 
You are the king! But urge me not; it is most true. 

King. Do not 1 know the uncontrouled thoughts, 
That youth brings with him, when his blood is high 
'With expectation, and desire of that 
He long hath waited for? Is not his spirit, 
Though he be temperate, of a valiant strain 
As this our age hath known ? What could he do, 
If such a sudden speech had met his blood, 
But ruin thee for ever? If he had not killed thee, 
He could not bear it thus. He is as we, 
Or any other wronged man. 

Evad. It is dissembling. 

King. Take him ! farewell ! henceforth I am thy 
foe; 
And what disgraces I can blot thee, look for. 

Evad. Stay, sir ! — Amintor ! — You shall hear. — 
Amintor ! 

Amin. What, my love ? 

Evad. Amintor, thou hast an ingenuous look, 
And should 'st be virtuous : It amaxeth me, 
That thou canst make such base malicious lies ! 

Amin. What, my dear wife ? 

Evad. Dear wife ! I do despise thee. 
Why. nothing can be baser than to sow 
Dissention amongst lovers. 

Amin. Lovers ! who ? 

Evad. The king and me. 

Amin. O, Heaven ! 

Evad. Who should live long, and love without 
• distaste, 
Were it not for such pickthanks as thyself! 
Did you lie with me ? Swear now, and be punished 
In hell for this ! 

Amin. The faithless sin I made 
To fair Aspatia, is not yet revenged ; 
It follows me. I will not lose a word 
To this vile woman : But to you, my king, 
The anguish of my soul thrusts out tins truth, 
You are a tyrant f 

And not so much to wrong an honest man thus, 
As to take a pride in talking with him of it 

Evad. Now, sir, sec how loud this fellow lied. 

Amin. You, that can know to wrong, should 
know how men 
Must right themselves : What punishment is due 
From me to him, that shall abuse my bed ? 
Is it not death ? Nor can that satisfy, 
Unless I send your lives through all the land, 
To shew how nobly I have freed myself. 



King. Draw not thy sword ; thou know'st I can- 
not fear 
A subject's hand ; but thou shalt feel the weight 
Of this, if thou dost rage. 

Amin. The weight ot that ! 
If you have any worth, for heaven's sake, think 
I fear not swords ; for as you are mere man, 
I dare as easily kill you for this deed, 
As you dare think to do it. But there is 
Divinity about you, that strikes dead 
My rising passions : As you are my king, 
I fall before you, and present my sword 
To cut mine own flesh, if it be your will. 
Alas ! I am nothing but a multitude 
Of walking griefs ! Yet, should I murder you, 
I might before the world take the excuse 
Of madness : For, compare my injuries, 
And they will well appear too sad a weight 
For reason to endure ! But, fall I first 
Amongst my sorrows, ere my treacherous hand 
Touch holy things ! But why (I know not what 
I have to say) why did you chuse out me 
To make thus wretched ? There were thousand 

fools 
Easy to work on, and of state enough, 
Within the island. 

Evad* I would not have a fool ; 
It were no credit for me. 

Amin. Worse and worse ! 
Thou, that darest talk unto thy husband thus, 
Profess thyself a whore, and, more than so, 

Resolve to be so still It is my fate 

"To bear and bow beneath a thousand griefs, 
To keep that little credit with the world ! 
But there were wise ones too ; you might have ta'en 
Another. 

King. No ; for I believed thee honest, 
As thou wert valiant. 

Amin. All the happiness 
Bestowed upon me, turns into disgrace. 
Gods, take your honesty again, for I 
Am loaden with it ! Good my lord the king, 
Be private in it 

King. TTiou may*st live, Amintor, 
Free as thy king, if thou wilt wink at this, 
And be a means, that we may meet in secret. 

Amin. A bawd! Hold, hold, my breast ! A bit- 
ter curse 
Seize me, if I forget not all respects, 
That are religious, on another word 
Sounded like that ; and, through a sea of sins, 
Will wade to my revenge, though I should call 
Pains here, and after life, upon my soul ! 

King. Well, I am resolute you he not with her; 
And so I leavje you. [Exit King* 

Evad. You must needs be prating ; 
And see what follows. 

Amin. Prithee, vex me not ! 
Leave me ! I am afraid some sudden start 
Will pull a murder on me. 

Evad. I am gone ; 
I love my life well. [Exit Ev<tdnc 



FtETCHEI.) 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



13 



Ami*. I hate mine as much. 
This 'tis to break a troth ! I should be glad, 
I/afldus tide of grief would make me mad. [Exit. 

Enter Melantius. 

Mel IT! know the cause of all Amintor's griefs, 
Or friendship shall be idle. 

Enter Calianax. 

CeL Melantius, my daughter will die. 

Mel Trust me, I am sorry. 
'Would thou hadst ta'en her room ! 

CaL Thou art a slave, 
A cat-throat slave, a bloody treacherous slave ! 

Mel Take heed, old man ! thou wilt be heard 
to rave. 
And lose thine offices. 

Col I am valiant grown, 
At all these years, and thou art but a slave ! 

Mel heave ! Some company will come, and I 
respect 
Thy years, not thee, so much, that I could wish 
To laogh at thee alone. 

Col Fll spoil your mirth ! I mean to fight with 
thee. 
There lie, my cloak ! This was my father's sword , 
And he durst fight. Are you prepared ? 

Mel Why wilt thou doatthyseliout of thy life? 
Hence, get thee to bed ! have careful looking to, 
And eat warm things, and trouble not me : 
My head is full of thoughts, more weighty 
Than thy life or death can be. 

Col You have a name in war, where you stand 
safe 
Amongst a multitude ; but I will try 
What you dare do unto a weak old man, 
In angle fight You will give ground, I fear. 
Cone, draw. 

UeL I will not draw, unless thou pull'st thy 
death 
Fnon thee with a stroke. There's no one blow, 
Toat thou canst give, hath strength enough to kill 

me. 
Tempt me not so far then : The power of earth 
Shall not redeem thee. 

Cdl I must let him alone ; 
He's stout and able ; and, to say the truth, 
However I may set a face, and talk, 
I am not valiant. When I was a youth, 
I kept my credit with a testy trick I had, 
Amonst cowards, but durst never right. 

Mel I will not promise to preserve your life, 
If you do stay. 

Col I would give half my land, 
That I dorst fight with that proud man a little. 
y I had men to hold him, I would beat him, 
Till he asked me mercy. 

Mel Sir, will you be gone ? 

Col I dare not stay ; but 111 go home and beat 
My servants all over for this. [Exit Calianax. 

MeL This old fellow haunts me ! 
Rot the distracted carriage of my Amintor 
Takes deeply on me ! I will find the cause. 
I fear his conscience cries, he wronged A^patia. 



Enter Amintor. 

Amin. Men's eyes are not so subtle to perceive 
My inward misery : I bear my grief, 
Hid from the world. How art thou wretched, 

then? 
For aught I know, all husbands are like me ; 
And every one, I talk with of his wife, 
Is but a well dissembler of his woes, 
As I am. 'Would I knew it ; for the rareness* 
Afflicts me now. 

MeL Amintor, we have not enjoyed our friend- 
ship of late, for we were wont to change our souls in 

Amin. Melantius, I can tell thee a good jest 
of Strato and a lady the last day. 

MeL How was it ? 

Amin. Why, such an odd one ! 

MeL I have longed to speak with you ; not of an 
idle jest, that's forced, but of matter you are bound 
to utter to me. 

Amin. What is that, my friend ? 

MeL I have observed your words 
Fall from your tongue wildly ; and all your carriage 
Like one, that strove to shew his merry mood. 
When he were ill disposed ; You were not wont 
To put such scorn into your speech, or wear 
Upon your face ridiculous jollity. 
Some sadness sits here, which your cunning would 
Cover o'er with smiles, and 'twill not be. 
What is it ?. 

Amin. A sadness here ! what cause 
Can fate provide for me, to make me so ? 
Am I not loved through all this isle ? The king 
Rains greatness on me. Have I not received 
A lady to my bed, that in her eye 
Keeps mounting fire, and on her tender cheeks 
Immutable colour, in her heart 
A prison for all virtue ? Are not you, 
Which is above all joys, my constant friend ? 
What sadness can I have ? No ; I am light, 
And feel the courses of my blood more warm 
And stirring than they were. Faith, marry too; 
And you will feel so unexpressed a joy 
In chaste embraces, that you will indeed 
Appear another. 

meL You may shape, Amintor, 
Causes to cozen the whole world withal, 
And yourself too ; but 'tis not like a friend, 
To hide your soul from me. Tis not your nature 
To be thus idle : I have seen you stand, 
As you were blasted, 'midst of all vour mirth ; 
Call thrice aloud, and then start, feigning joy 
So coldly ! — World, what do I here ? a friend 
Is nothing ! Heaven, I would have told that man 
My secret sins ! I'll search an unknown land, 
And there plant friendship ; all is withered here. 
Come with a compliment ( I would have fought, 
Or told my friend < he lied,' ere soothed him so. 
Out of my bosom ! 

Amin. But there is nothing— 

MeL Worse and worse ! farewell ! 
From this time have acquaintance, but no friend. 



I 



14 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont Sjr 



Amin. Melantius, stay : You shall know what it is. 

MeL See, how you played with friendship! 
Be advised 
How you give cause unto yourself to say, 
You have lost a friend. 

Amin. Forgive what I have done ; 
For I am so o'ergone with injuries 
Unheard of, that I lose consideration 
Of what I ought to do. Oh, oh ! 

Mel. Do not weep. 
What is it ? May I once but know the man 
Hath turned my friend thus ! 

Amin. I had spoke at first. 
But that 

MeL But what? 

Amin, I held it most unfit 
For you to know. Faith, do not know it yet 

Met Thou seest my love, that will keep company 
With thee in tears ; hide nothing then from me ; 
For, when 1 know the cause of thy distemper, 
With mine old annour I'll adorn myself, 
My resolution, and cut through thy foes, 
Unto thy quiet ; till I place thy heart 
As peaceable as spotless innocence. 
What is it ? 

Amin. Why, 'tis thi s I t is too big 

To get out Let my tears make way awhile. 

Mel. Punish me strangely, Heaven, if he escape 
Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this ! 

Amin. Your sister 

MeL Well said. 

Amin. You will wish it unknown, 
When you have heard it. 

Mel No. 

Amin. Is much to blame, 
And to the king has given her honour up, 
And lives in whoredom with him. 

Mel. How is this ? 
Thou art run mad with injury, indeed ; 
Thou couldst not utter this else. Speak again ; 
For I forgive it freely ; tell thy griefs. 

Amin. She's wanton : I am loth to say, a whore, 
Though it be true. 

MeL Speak yet again, before mine anger grow 
Up, beyond throwing down : What are thy griefs? 

Amin. By all our friendship, these. 

Mel. What, am I tame ? 
After mine actions, shall the name of friend 
Blot all our family, and stick the brand 
Of whore upon my sister, unrevenged ? 
My shaking flesh, be thou a witness for me, 
With what unwillingness I go to scourge 
This railer, whom my folly hath called friend ! 
I will not take thee basely ; thy sword 
Hangs near thy hand ; draw it, that J may whip 
Thy rashness to repentance. Draw thy sword ! 

Amin. Not on thee, did thine anger swell as high 
As the wild surges. Thou shouldst do me ease 
Here, and eternally, if thy noble hand 
Would cut me from my sorrows. 

MeL This is base 
And fearful. They, that use to utter lies, 



Provide not blows, but words, to qualify 
The men they wronged. Thou hast a guilty 
cause. 

Amin. Thou pleasestme; for so much more like 
this 
Will raise my anger up above my griefs, 
(Which is a passion easier to be borne) 
And I shall then be happy. 

Mel. Take then more 
To raise thine anger : lis mere cowardice 
Makes thee not draw ; and I will leave thee dead^ 
However. But, if thou art so much pressed 
With guilt and fear, as not to dare to fight, 
I'll make thy memory loathed, and fix a scandal 
Upon thy name for ever. 

Amin. Then I draw, 
As justly as our magistrates their swords 
To cut offenders off. I knew before, 
Twould grate your ears ; but it was base in you 
To urge a weighty secret from your friend, 
And then rage at it I shall be at ease, 
If I be killed ; and, if you fall by me, 
I shall not long outlive you. 

MeL Stay awhile. — 
The name of friend is more than family, 
Or all the world besides : I was a fool ! 
Thou searching human nature, that didst wake 
To do me wrong, thou art inquisitive, 
And thrust'st me upon questions, that will take 
My sleep away ! 'Would I had died, ere known 
This sad dishonour ! Pardon me, my friend ! 
If thou wilt strike, here is a faithful heart ; 
Pierce it, for I will never heave my hand 
To thine. ' Behold the power thou hast in me ! 
I do believe my sister is a whore, 
A leprous one ! Put up thy sword, young man. 

Amin. How should I bear it then, she being so? 
I fear, ray friend, that you will lose me shortly ; 
And I shall do a foul act on myself, 
Through these disgraces. 

Mel Better half the land 
Were buried quick together. No, Amintor ; 
Thou shalt have ease. Oh, this adulterous king, 
That drew her to it ! Where got he the spirit 
To wrong me so ? 

Amin. What is it then to me, 
If it be wrong to you ? 

MeL Why, not so much : 
The credit of our house is thrown away. 
But from his iron den I'll waken Death, 
And hurl him on this king ! My honesty 
Shall steel my sword ; and on its horrid point 
111 wear my cause, that shall amaze the eyes 
Of this proud man, and be too glittering 
For him to look on. 

Amin. I have quite undone my fame. 

MeL Dry up thy watery eyes, 
And cast a manly look upon my face ; 
For nothing is so wild as I, thy friend, 
Till I have freed thee. Still this swelling breast ! 
I go thus from thee, and will never cease 
My vengeance, till I find thy heart at peace. 



Fletchei.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



15 



It most not be so. Stay ! Mine eyes would 

Horn loth I am to this ; but, love and tears, 
Love me awhile ; for I have hazarded 
All that this world calls happy. Thou hast wrought 
A secret from me, under name of friend. 
Which art could ne'er have found, nor torture 

wrung 
From out my bosom : Give it me again ; 
For I will find it, wheresoe'er it lies, 
Hid in the mortal'st part ! Invent a way 
To ewe h back. 

MeL Why would you have it back ? 
.1 will to death pursue him with revenge. 

Amin. Therefore I call it back from thee ; for 
I know 
Thy blood so high, that thou wilt stir in this, 
And shame me to posterity. Take to thy weapon ! 

MeL Hear thy friend, that bears more years 
man thou. 

Amin. I will not hear ! but draw, or L 

MeL Amintor ! 

Amin. Draw then ; for I am full as resolute 
As fane and honour can enforce me be ! 
I cannot linger. Draw ! 

MeL Ida But is not 
Mt share of credit equal with thine, 
111 do stir? 

Ami*. No ; for it will be called 
Honour in thee to spill thy sister's blood, 
If she her birth abuse ; and, on the king, 
A brave revenge : But on me, that have walked 
With patience in it, it will fix the name 
Of fearful cuckold, Oh, that word ! Be quick. 

MeL Then join with me. 

Jmm. I dare not do a sin, or else I would. 
Be speed?. 

MeL then dare not fight with me; for that's a 
sin. 
His grief distracts him : Call thy thoughts again, 
And to thyself pronounce the name of friend, 
And see what that will work- I will not fight, 

Amin. You must. 

MeL I will be killed first Though my passions 
Ottered the like to you, 'tis not this earth 
Shall boy my reason to it Think awhile, 
For you are (I must weep, when I speak that) 
Almost besides yourself. 

Amin. Oh, my soft temper ! 
So many sweet words from thy sister's mouth, 
I am afraid, would make me take her 
To embrace , and pardon her. I am mad, indeed, 
And know not what I do. Yet, have a care 
Of me in what thou dost. 

Mel. Why thinks my friend 
IwiU forget his honour ? or, to save 
Jbe bravery of our house, will lose his fame, 
And fear to touch the throne of majesty ? 

Amin. A curse will follow that; but rather live, 
And softer with me. 

MeL 111 do what worth shall bid me, and no 
more. 



Amin. 'Faithjlamsick, and desperately, I hope; 
Yet, leaning thus, I feel a kind or ease. 

MeL Come, take again your mirth about you. 

Amin. I shall never do't 

MeL I warrant you ; look up ; we'll walk together; 
Put thine arm here ; all shall be well again. 

Amin. Thy love (oh, wretched !) ay, thy love, 
Melantius ! 
Why, I have nothing else. 

MeL Be merry then. [Exeunt. 

Enter Melantius again, 
MeL This worthy young man may do violence 
Upon himself; but I have cherish'd him 
To my best power, and sent him smiling from me, 
To counterfeit again. Sword, hold thine edge ; 
My heart will never fail me. Diphilus ! 
Thou com'st as sent 

Enter Diphilus. 

Diph. Yonder has been such laughing. 

MeL Betwixt whom? 

Dip A. Why, our sister and the king; I thought 
their spleens would break; they laughed us all 
out of the room. 

MeL They must weep, Diphilus. 

Diph. Must they ? 

MeL They must 
Thou art my brother ; and if I did believe 
Thou hadst a base thought, I would rip it out, 
Lie where it durst 

Diph. You should not; I would first mangle 
myself, and find it 

MeL That was spoke according to our strain. 
Come, join thy hands to mine, 
And swear a firmness to what project I 
Shall lay before thee. 

Diph. You do wrong us both : 
People hereafter shall not say, there passed 
A bond, more than our loves, to tie our lives 
And deaths together. 

MeL It is as nobly said as I would wish. 
Anon I'll tell you wonders. We are wronged. 

Diph. But I will tell you now, we'll right our- 
selves. 

MeL Stay not : Prepare the armour in my house; 
And what friends you can draw unto our side, 
Not knowing of the cause, make ready too. 
Haste, Diphilus, the time requires it ; haste ! 

[Exit Diphilus. 
I hope ray cause is just ; I know my blood 
Tells me it is ; and I will credit it 
To take revenge, and lose myself withal, 
Were idle ; and to escape impossible, 
Without I had the fort, which (misery !) 
Remaining in the hands of my old enemy 
Calianax But I must have it See, 

Enter Calianax. 
Where he comes, shaking by me. Good my lord, 
Forget your spleen to me ; I never wronged you, 
But would have peace with every man. 

CaL 'Tis well ; 
If I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet. 



16 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



[Beaumont 4* 



MeL You're touchy without ail cause. 

Cat. Do, mock me. 

MeL By mine honour I speak truth. 

Cal. Honour ? where is it ? 

MeL See, what starts you make into your 
hatred, to my love and freedom to you. I come 
with resolution to obtain a suit of you. 

Cal. A suit of me ! Tis very like it should be 
granted, sir. 

MeL Nay, go not hence : 
Tis this ; you have the keeping of the fort, 
And I would wish you, by tne love you ought 
To bear unto me, to deliver it 
Into my hands. 

Cal. I am in hope thou art mad, 
To talk to me thus. 

MeL But there is a reason 
To move you to it : I would kill the king, 
That wronged you and your daughter. 

Cal. Out, traitor ! 

MeL Nay, but stay ! I cannot escape, the deed 
once done, 



Without I have this fort 

Cal And should I help thee ? 
Now thy treacherous mind betrays itself. 

MeL Come, delay me not; 
Give me a sudden answer, or already 
Thy last is spoke ! refuse not offered love, 
When it comes clad in secrets. 

Cal. If I say 
I will not, he will kill me ; I do see it 
Writ in his looks ; and should I say I will, 
Hell run and tell the king. I do not shun 
Your friendship, dear Melantius, but this cause 
Is weighty ; give me but an hour to think. 

Mel. lake it. I know this goes unto the king ; 
But I am armed. [Exit Melantius* 

Cal. Methinks I feel myself 
But twenty now again ! this fighting fool 
Wants policy ! I snail revenge my girl, 
And make her red again. I pray, my legs 
Will last that pace, that I will carry them : 
I shall want breath, before I find the king. 



ACT IV, 



Enter Melantius, Evadxe, and a lady. 

MeL Save you ! 

Evad. Save you, sweet brother ! 

MeL In my blunt eye, 
Methinks, you look, Evadne 

Evad. Come, you would make me blush. 

MeL I would, Evadne : I shall displease my 
ends else. 

Evad. You shall, if you commend me ; I am 
bashful. 
Come, sir, how do I look ? 

MeL I would not have your women hear me 
Break into commendation of you ; 'tis not seemly. 

Evad. Go, wait me in the gallery. Now speak. 

[Exeunt ladies. 

MeL 111 lock the door first. 

Evad. Why? 

Mel. I will not have your gilded tilings, that dance 
In visitation with their Milan skins, 
Choke up my business. 

Evad. You arc strangely disposed, sir. 

MeL Good madam, not to make you merry. 

Evad. No; if you praise me, it will make me sad. 

MeL Such a sad commendation I have for you. 

Evad. Brother, the court hath made you witty, 
And learn to riddle. 

Mel. I praise the court for it : Has it learnt 
you nothing ? 

Evad. Me? 

MeL Ay, Evadne; thou art young and handsome, 
A lady of a sweet complexion, 
And such a flowing carriage, that it cannot 
Chuse but inflame a kingdom. 

Evad. Gentle brother ! 

MeL 'Tis yet in thy repentance, foolish woman, 
*Jo make me gentle. 

Evad. How is this ? 






Mel. Tis baser; 
And I could blush, at these years, through all 
My honoured scars, to come to such a parley. 

Evad. I understand you not. 

Mel. You dare not, fool ! 
They, that commit thy faults, fly the remembrance. 

Evad. My faults, sir ! I would have you know, 
I care not, 
If they were written here, here in my forehead. 
This is saucy : 
Look you intrude no more ! There lies your way, 

Mel. Thou art my way, and I will tread upon thee, 
Till I find truth out. 

Evad. What truth is that^ you look for ? 

Mel. Thy long-lost honour. Would the gods 
had set me 
Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand 
One of their loudest bolts ! Come, tell me quickly, 
Do it without enforcement, and take heea 
You swell me not above my temper. 

Evad. How, sir ! where got you this report ? 

MeL Where there were people, in every place. 

Evad. They and the seconds of it are base people : 
Believe them not, they lied. 

MeL Do not play with mine anger, do not, 
wretch ! 
I come to know that desperate fool, that drew thee 
From thy fair life : Be wise, and ray him open. 

Evad. Unhand me, and learn manners : Such 
another 
Forgetfulness forfeits your life. 

Mel. Quench me this mighty humour, and then 
tell me 
Whose whore you are ; for you are one, I know it. 
Let all mine honours perish, but 111 find him, 
Though he lie locked up in thy blood ! Be sudden; 
There is no facing it, and be not flattered ! 



Flstcuk.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



17 



The ban* air, when the Doc reigns, k not footer 
Tim my contagious name, till toy repentance 
(If tie gods grant thee any) purge thy sickness. 
Eati. fie gone ! Yob an my brother ; dint's 



Mel IH be a wolf first ! 'Tis, to be thy brother, 
Aa iafaray below the sin of coward. 
I am as far from being part of thee, 
As thou art from thy virtue : Seek a kindred 
Voogst sensual beasts, and make a goat thy 

brother; 
A mat is cooler. Will you tell me yet r 

Evad. If yon stay here and rail thus, I shall 

teH yon, 

m have you whipped! get you to your command, 

And there preach to yourcentuiels, and tell them 

What a brave man you are t I shall laush at you. 

MeL You're grown a glorious whore 1 Where 
be your fighters ? 
What mortal fool durst raise thee to this daring, 
And I alive? By my just sword, he had safer 
Bestrid a billow, when the angry north 
Plows up the sea, or made heaven's fire his food ! 
Work me no higher. Will you discover yet r 

£md The fellow's mad: Sleep, and speak sense. 

MeL Force my swollen heart no further : I would 
save thee. 
Yoor great maintainers are not here, they dare not : 
'Would they were all, and armed ! I would speak 

Here's one should thunder to them ! will you 

tell me? 
Thou hast no hope to escape: He, that dares most, 
And damns away bis soul to do thee service, 
Will sooner fetch meat from a hungry lion, 
Thmcome to rescue thee; thou'stdeath about thee. 
Who has undone thine honour, poisoned thy virtue, 
And, of a lovely rose, left thee a canker ? 

Evad. Let me consider, 

MeL Do, whose child thou wert, 
Whose honour tkou hast murdered, whose grave 

opened, 
And so pulled on the gods, that in their justice 
They most restore him flesh again, and life, 
And raise his dry bones to revenge this scandal. 

Bead. The gods are not of my mind; they had 



let mem he sweet still in the earth; they'll stink 



Mel Do yon raise mirth oat of my easiness ? 
Forsake me, then, all weaknesses of nature, 
That make men women ! Speak, harlot, speak 

troth ! 
Or, by the dear soul of thy sleeping father, 
Xaa sword shall be thy lover ! Tell, or I'll kill thee; 
And, when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it. 

Evad. You will not murder me r 

Mel No ? 'tis a justice, and a noble one, 
To pet the light out of such base offenders. 

WHerp! 

MeL By toy foul self, no human help shall 
help thee, 
u tkou criest! When I hare killed thee, as I have 
Vol.L 



Vowed to do, if thou confess not, naked, 
As thou hast left thine honour, will I leave thee; 
That on thy branded flesh the world may read 
Thy black shame, and my justice. Wilt thou bend 
vet? 

Evad. Yes. 

MeL Up, and begin your story. 

Evad. Oh, I am miserable ! 

MeL Tis true, thou art Speak tram still. 

Evad. I have offended : 
Noble sir, forgive me. 

MeL With what secure slave ? 

Evad* Do not ask me, sir : 
Mine own remembrance is a misery 
Too mighty fdr me. 

MeL Do not fall back again : 
My sword's unsheathed yet 

Evad. What shall I do ? 

MeL Be true, and make your fault lets. 

Evad* I dare not telL 

MeL Tell, or I'll be this day a-killing thee. 

Evad. Will yon forgive me then ? 

MeL Stay ; I must ask 
Mine honour first — I've too much foolish na- 
ture 
In me : Speak. 

Evad. Is there none else here ? 

MeL None but a fearful conscience; that's too 
many. 

Who is it? 

Evad, Oh, hear me gently. It was the king. 

MeL No more. My worthy father's and my 
services 
Are liberally rewarded. King, I thank thee ! 
For all my dangers and my wounds, thou hast 

paid me 
In my own metal : These are soldiers' thanks ! 
How long have you lived thus, Evadae ? 

Evad. Too long. 

MeL Too late you find it Can you be sorry? 

Evad. Would I were half as blameless ! 

MeL Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade again ! 

Evad. First, to say grave. 

MeL 'Would gods thou hadst been so blest ! 
Dost thou not hate this king now ? prithee hate 

him. 
Couldst thou not curse him ? I command thee, 

curse him. 
Curse, till the sods hear, and deliver him 
To thy just wishes ! Yet, I fear, Evadne, 
You had rather play your game out 

Evad. No; I feel 
Too many sad confusions here, to let in 
Any loose flame hereafter. 

MeL Dost thou not feel, among all those, one 
brave anger, 
That breaks out nobly, and directs thine arm 
To kill this base king ? 

Evad. All the cods forbid it ! 

MeL No ; all the gods require it; they are dis- 
honoured in him. 

Evad. Tis too fearful. 

Mel. You're valiant in his bed, and bold enough 

B 



16 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



[Beaumont 4- 



To be a stale hour* *nd ^ ave 7°^ madam's name 

Discourse for grooms and pages ; and, hereafter, 

When his cool majesty hath kid you by, 

To be at pension with some needy sir, 

For meat and coarser cloaths : Thus far you know 

no fear. 
Come, you shall kill him. 
Evad. Good sir ! 

Mel. An 'twere to kiss him dead, thou'dst 
smother him. 
Be wise, and kill him. Canst thou live, and know 
What noble minds shall make thee, sec thyself 
Found out with every finger, made the shame 
Of all successions, and in this great ruin 
Thy brother and thy noble husband broken ? 
Thou shalt not live thus. Kneel, and swear to 

help me, 
When I shall call thee to it ; or, by all 
Holy in heaven and earth, thou shalt not live 
To breathe a full hour longer ; not a thought ! 
Come, 'tis a righteous oath. Give me thy hands, 
And, both to heaven held up, swear, by that 

wealth 
This lustful thief stole from thee, when I say it, 
To let his foul soul out. 

Evad. Here I swear it ; 
And, all you spirits of abused ladies, 
Help me in this performance ! 

Mel. Enough. This must be known to none 
But you and I, Evadnc ; not to your lord, 
Though he be wise and noble* and a fellow 
Dares step as far into a worthy action 
As the most daring ; ay, as far as justice. 
Ask me not why. Farewell. [Exit Mel. 

Evad. 'Would I could say so to my black dis- 
grace ! 
Oh, where have I been all this time ? how 'friended, 
That I should lose myself thus desperately, 
And none for pity shew me how I wandered ? 
There is not in the compass of the light 
A more unhappy creature : Sure, I am monstrous ! 
For I have done those follies, those mad mischiefs, 
Would dare a woman. Oh, my loaden soul, 
Be not so cruel to me ; choke not up 

Enter Amintor. 

The way to my repentance ! Oh, my lord ! 

Amin. How now ? 

Evad. My much abused lord ! [Kneth. 

Amin. This cannot be ! 

Evad. I do not kneel to live; I dare not hope it; 
The wrongs I did are greater. Look upon me, 
Though I appear with all my faults. 

Amin. Stand up. 
This is a new way to beget more sorrow : 
Heaven knows I have too many ! Do not mock me : 
Though I am tame, and bred up with my wrongs, 
"Which are my foster-brothers, I may leap, 
Like a hand-wolf, into my natural wildness, 
And do an outrage. Prithee, do not mock me. 

Evad. My whole life is so leprous, it infects 
All my repentance. I would buy your pardon, 
' Though at the highest set; even with my life. 



That slight contrition, that's no sacrifice 
For what I have committed. 

Amin* Sure I dazzle : 
There cannot be a faith in that foul woman. 
That knows no god more mighty than her mis- 
chiefs. 
Thou dost still worse, still number on thy fauks, 
To press my poor heart thus. Can I believe 
There's any seed of virtue in that woman, 
Left to shoot up, that dares go on in sin, 
Known, and so known as thine is ? Oh, Evadne ! 
'Would there were any safety in thy sex, 
That I might put a thousand sorrows off, 
And credit thy repentance ! But I must not : 
Thou hast brought me to that dull calamity, 
To that strange misbelief of all the world, 
And all things that are in it, that I fear 
I shall fall like a tree, and mid my grave, 
Only remembering, that I grieve. 

Evad. My lord, 
Give mc your griefs : You are an innocent, 
A soul as white as heaven ; let not my sins 
Perish your noble youth. I do not fall here 
To shadow, by dissembling with my tears, 
(As, all say, women can) or to make less, 
What my not will hath done, which heaven and you 
Know to be tougher than the hand of time 
Can cut from man's remembrance. No, I do not : 
I do appear the same, the same Evadne, 
Drest in the shames I lived in ; the same monster ! 
But these are names of honour, to what I am : 
I do present myself the foulest creature, 
Most pois'nous, dang'rous, and despised of men, 
Lerna e're bred, or Nilus ! I am hell, 
Till you, my dear lord, shoot your light into mc, 
The beams of your forgiveness. I am soul-sick, 
And wither with the fear of one condemned, 
Till I have got your pardoui 

Amin. Rise, Evadne* 
Those heavenly powers, that put this good into thee* 
Grant a continuance of it ! I forgive thee : 
Make thyself worthy of it ; and take heed, 
Take heed, Evadnc, this be serious. 
Mock not the powers above, that can and dare 
Give thee a great example of their justice 
To all ensuing eyes, if thou playest 
With thy repentance, the best sacrifice. 

Evad. I have done nothing good to win belief, 
My life hath been so faithless. AH the creatures, 
Made for heaven's honours, have their ends, and 

good ones, 
All but the cozening crocodiles, false women ! 
They reign here like those plagues, those killing 

sores, 
Men pray against ; and, when they die, like tales 
111 told and unbelievcd, they pass away, 
And go to dust forgotten ! But, my lord, 
Those short days I shull number to my rest 
(As many must not see mc) shall, though too late. 
Though in my evening, yet perceive a will ; 
Since I can do no good, because a woman, 
Reach constantly at something, that is near it : 
I will redeem one minute of my age, 



Fletcheb.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



19 



Or, like another Niobe, Fll weep 
T11J I am water. 

Ami*. I am now dissolved : 
My front soul melts. May each sin thou hast, 
find a new mercy !. Rise ; I am at peace* 
Hadst thou been thus, thus excellently good, 
Before that devil king tempted thy frailty, 
Sore thou hadst made a star ! Give me thy hand. 
From this time I will know thee ; and, as far. 
As honour gives me leave, be thy Amintor. 
When we meet next, I will salute thee fairly, 
And pray the gods to give thee happy days. 
My chanty shall go along with thee, 
Hough my embraces must be far from thee. 
I should have killed thee, but this sweet repent- 



Locks up my vengeance ; for which thus I kiss 

thee — 
The last kiss we must take ! And 'would to heaven 
The holy priest, that gave our hands together, 
Had given us equal virtues ! Go, Evadne j 
The gods thus part our bodies. Have a care 
My honour falls no farther : I am well then. 
Evad. All the dear joys here, and, above, 
hereafter, 
Crown thy fair soul ! Thus I take leave, my lord; 
And never shall you see the foul Evadne, 
Till she have tried all honoured means, that 

mar 
Set her in rest, and wash her stains away. 

[Exeunt. 

Bahquet. Enter Kino- and Calianax. 

[Hautboys play within. 

King. I cannot tell how I should credit this 
From you, that are his enemy. 

CaL I'm sure 
He said it to me ; and Fll justify it 
What way he dares oppose — but with my sword. 

Kimg. But did he break, without all circum- 



To von, his foe, that he would have the fort, 
To kill me, and then escape ? 

CaL If he deny it, 
r& make him blush. 

King. It sounds incredibly. 

CoJL Ay, so does every thing I say of late. 

King. Not so, Calianax. 

Call Yes, I should sit 
Mate, whilst a rogue with strong arms cuts your 
throat. 

King. Well, I will try him; and, if this be true, 
TH pawn my life 111 find it If it be false, 
Ana that you clothe your hate in such a lie, 
Yoa shall hereafter dote in your own house, 
Not in the court. 

Col Why, if it be a lie, 
Mine ears are false ; for, 111 be sworn, I heard it. 
Old men arc good for nothing : You were best 
Put me to death for hearing, and free him 
For m—mFTg it. You would have trusted me 
Once, but the tune is altered. 



King. And will still, 
Where I may do with justice to the world : 
You have no witness. 

CaL Yes, myself. 

King. No more, 
I mean, there were that heard it 

CaL How ! no more ? 
Would you have more ? why, am not I enough 
To hang a thousand rogues r 

King. But, so, you may 
Hang honest men too, if you please. 

CaL I may ! 
Tis like I will do so : There are a hundred 
Will swear it for a need too, if I say it 

King. Such witnesses we need not. 

CaL And 'tis hard 
If my word cannot hang a boisterous knave. 

King. Enough. Where's Strato. 

Enter Strato; 

Sfra. Sir ! 

King. Why, where is all tne company ? Call 
Amintor in ; 
Evadne. Where's my brother, and Melantius ? 
Bid him come too ; and Diphilus. Call all, 

[Exit Strato. 
That are without there. — If he should desire 
The combat of you, 'tis not in the power 
Of all our laws to hinder it, unless 
We mean to quit them. 

CaL Why, if you do think 
"Tis fit an old man, and a counsellor, 
Do fight for what he says, then you may grant it. 

Enter Amintor, Evadne, Melantius, Di- 
philus, Lysippus, Cleon, Strato. 

King. Come, sirs ! Amintor, thou art yet a 
bridegroom, 
And I will use thee so : Thou shalt sit down. 
Evadne, sit ; and you, Amintor, too : 
This banquet is for you, sir. Who has brought 
A merry tale about hiin, to raise laughter 
Amongst our wine? Why, Strato, where art 

thou? 
Thou wilt chop out with them unseasonably, . 
When I desire them not. 

Stra. 'lis my ill luck, sir, so to spend them 
then. 

King. Reach me a bowl of wine. Melantius, 
. thou 
Art sad. 

Mel. I should be, sir, the merriest here, 
But I have ne'er a story of my own 
Worth telling at this time. 

King. Give rae the wine. 
Melantius, I am now considering 
How easy 'twere, ifor any man we trust, 
To poison ouc of us in such a bowl. 

MeL I tlunk it were not hard, sir, for a knave. 

CaL Such as you are. 

King. Ffaith, 'twere easy : It becomes us well » 
To get plain-dealing men about ourselves ; 



20 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont £ 



Such as you all are here. Amintor, to thee ; 
And to thy fair Evadne. 

MeL Have you thought of this, Calianax ? 

[Apart. 
Col. Yes, marry, have I. 
MeL And what's your resolution ? 
CaL You shall have it, soundly, I warrant you. 
King. Reach to Amintor, Strata. 
Amin. Here, my love, 
This wine will do thee wrong, for it will set 
Blushes upon thy cheeks ; and, 'till thou dost 
A fault, 'twere pity. 

King. Yet, I wonder much 
At the strange desperation of these men, 
That dare attempt such acts here in our state : 
He could not 'scape, that did it. 

MeL Were he Known, 
Impossible. 

King. It would be known, Melantius./ 
MeL It ought to be : If he got then away, 
He must wear all our lives upon his sword. 
He need not fly the island ; he must leave 
No one alive. 

King. No ; I should think no man 
Could kill me, and 'scape dear, but that old man. 
CaL But I ! heaven bless me f I ! should I, 

my liege ? 
King. I do not think thou woukfist; but yet 
thou might'st; 
For thou hast in thy hands the means to escape, 
By keeping of the fort. He has, Melantius, 
And he has kept it well. 

MeL From cobwebs, sir, 
'Tis clean swept : I can find no other art 
In keeping of it now : Twas ne'er besieged, 
Since ne commanded it. 

CaL I shall be sure 
Of your good word : But I have kept it safe* 
From such as you. 

MeL Keep your ill temper in : 
I speak no malice. Had my brother kept it, 
I snould have said as much.. 
King. You are not merry. 
Brother, drink wine. Sit you all Still !— Calianax, 
I cannot trust this : I have thrown out words, 
That would have fetched warm blood upon the 

cheeks 
Of guilty men, and he is never moved : 
He knows no such thing. [Apart. 

CaL Impudence may 'scape, 
When feeble virtue is accused. 

King. He must, 
If he were guilty, feel an alteration 
At this our whisper, whilst we point at him : 
You see he does not. 

CaL Let him hang himself: 
What care I what he does ? This he did say. 
Kins. Melantius, you can easily conceive 
What I have meant; for men, that are in fault, 
Can subtlv apprehend, when others aim 
At what they do amiss : But I forgive 
Freely, before this man. Heaven do so too ! 



I will not touch thee, so much as with sbam£ 

Of telling it. Let it be so no more. 
CaL Why, this is very fine. 
MeL I cannot tell 
What 'tis you mean ; but I am apt enough 
Rudely to thrust into an ignorant fault. 
But let me know it : Happily, 'tis nought 
But misconstruction ; and, where I am clear, 
I will not take forgiveness of the gods, 
Much less of you* 

King. Nay, \i you stand so stiff, 
I shall call back my mercy. 
Mel. I want smoothness 
To thank a man for pardoning of a crime, 
I never knew. 

King. Not to instruct your knowledge, but to 
shew you 
My ears ate every where, you meant to kill me, 
And get the fort to escape. 

Me L Pardon me, sir ; 
My bluntness will be pardoned : You preserve 
A race of idle people here about you, 
Facers and talkers, to defame the worth 
Of those, that do things worthy. The man, that 

uttered this, 
Had perished without food, be it who it will, 
But for this arm, that fenced him from the foe. . 
And, if I thought you gave a faith to this, 
The plainness of my nature would speak more. 
Give me a pardon (for you ought to do it) 
To kill him, that spake this. 

Col. Ay, that will be 
The end of all : Then I am fairly paid 
For all my care and service. 

Me!. That old man, 
Who calls me enemy, and of whom I 
(Though I will never match my hate so low) 
Have no good thought, would yet, I think, ex- 
cuse me, 
And swear he thought me wronged in this. 

Col. Who, I ? 
Thou shameless fellow ! Didst thou not gpeak to me 
Of it thyself. 

MeL Oh, then it came from him ? 

CaL From nie ! who should it come from, but 

from me ? 
MeL Nay, 1 believe your malice ft enough : 
But I have lost my anger. Sir, I hope 
You. are well satisfied. 

King. Lysippus, chear 
Amintor and nis lady ; there's no sound 
Comes from you ; I will come and do it myself. 
Amin. You have done already, sir, for me, I 

thank you. 
King. Melantius, I do credit this from him, 
How slight soe'er you make it 
MeL Tis strange you should. 
CaL Tis strange he should believe an old man's 
word, 
That never lied in his life ? 
MeL I talk not to thee ! 
Shall the wild words of this distempered man, 



Flbtghki.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



«l 



age and sorrow, make a breach 
Betwixt yoor majesty and me ? Twas wrong 
To liearun to him ; but to credit him, 
As math, at least, as I have power to bear, 
flat pardon me— whilst I speak only truth, 
I may cosaeiend myself — I have bestowed 
My careless blood with you, and should be loth 
To think an action, that would make me lose 
That, and my thanks too. When I was a boy, 
I thrust myself into my country's cause, 
And did a deed, that pluckec} five vears from time, 
And styled me man then. And for you, my king, 
Your subjects all have fed by virtue of 
My ana. This sword of mine hath plowed the 

ground, 
And reaped the fruit in peace ; 
And yon yourself have lived at home in ease. 
So terrible I grew, that, without swords, 
My name had) fetched you conquest : And my 

heart 
And limbs are still the same ; my will as great 
To do you service. Let me not be paid 
With such a strange distrust. 

&*$. Melantius, 
} held it great injustice to believe 
Thine enemy, and did not; if I did, 
I do not; let that satisfy. What, struck 
With sadness all ? More wine ! 

Cat A few fine words 
Hate overthrown my truth. Ah, thou art a villain! 
Met Why, thou wert better let me have the 
fort; 
Dotard ! I will disgrace thee thus for ever : 
There shall no credit lie upon thy words. 
Think better, and deliver it \ Apart. 

C*L My Kege, 

▼a* 9 ^"^ 

ties at me now again to do it. Speak ; 
Deny it, if thou canst. Examine mm, 
While he is hot ; for, if he cool again, 
He will forswear it. 

King. This is lunacy, 
I hope, Melanties. 

MeL He hath lost himself 
Much, since his daughter missed the happiness, 
My sister gained; and, though he call me foe, 
I pity him. 

CaL Pity? a pox upon you ! 

MeL Mark his disordered words ! And, at the 
masque, 
Insgoras knows, he raged, and railed aft me, 
And called a lady whore, so innocent, 
She understood rum not. But it becomes 
Both you and me too to forgive distraction : 
Pardon him, as I do. 

CaL HI not speak for thee, 
For all thv cunning. If you will be safe, 
Chop off ins head ; for there was never known 
So impudent a rascaL 

King. Some, that love him, 
Get him to bed. Why, pity should not let 
A«e make itself contemptible ; we must be 
AH o! j ; have him away. 



MtL Cabanas, 
The king believes you ; come, you shall go home, 
And rest ; you have done well. — You'll rive it up, 
When I have used you thus a month, I hope. 

[Apart. 

CmL Now, now, 'tis plain, sir; he does mo\e 
me still. 
He says, he knows I'll give him up the fort, 
When he has usee) me thus a month. I am mad, 
Am I not, still ? 
' Omnes. Ha, ha, ba ! 

CaL I shall be mad indeed, if you do thus ! 
Why should you trust a sturdy fellow there 
(That has no virtue in him ; ail's in his sword) 
Before me ? Do but take his weapons from him. 
And he's an ass ; and Fm a very fool. 
Both with him, and without him, as you use me. 

Omnes. Ha, ha, ha! 

King. Tis well, Calianax. But if yon use 
This once again, I shall entreat some other 
To see your offices be well discharged. 
Be merry, gentlemen; it grows somewhat late. 
Amintor, thou woukfet be arbed again, 

Amin. Yes, sir. 

King. And you, Evadne. Jjtt me take 
Thee in my arms, Melantius, and believe 
Thou art, as thou deservest to be, my friend 
Still, and for ever. Good Calianax, 
Sleep soundly j it will bring thee to thyself. 

[Exeunt. 

Moment Melantius and Calianax. 

Col. Sleep soundly ! I sleep soundly now, I hope ; 
I could not be thus ebe. How durst thou stav 
Alone with me, knowing how thou hast used me? 

Mel. You cannot blast me with your tongue, 
and that's 
The strongest part you have about you. 

CaL Ay, 
I Do look tor some great punishment for this : 
For I begin to forget all my hate, 
And take it unkindly, that mine enemy 
Should use me so extraordinarily scurvily. 

MeL I shall melt too, if you begin to take 
Unkindnesses : I never meant you hurt 

CaL Thou'lt anger me again. Thou wretched 
rogue, 
Meant me no hurt ! Disgrace me with the king ; 
Lose all mv offices ! This is no hurt, 
Is it? I prithee, what dost thou call hurt? 

MeL To poison men, because they love me not; 
To call the credit of men's wives in question ; 
To murder children betwixt me and land ; 
This is all hurt. 

CaL All this thou think'st, is sport; 
For mine is worse : But use thy will with roe ; 
For, betwixt grief and anger, I could cry. 

MeL Be wise then, and be safe ; thou ma/st 
revenge. 

Cat Ay, o the king? I would revenge o' thee. 

MeL That you must plot yourself. 

CaL I'm a one plotter. 



24 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 4 



Mel. The short is, I will hold thee with the king 
In this perplexity, till peevishness 
And thy disgrace have laid thee in thy grave. 
But, if thou wilt deliver up the fort, 
I'll take thy trembling body in my arms, 
And bear thee over dangers : Thou shalt hold 
Thy wonted state. 

CaL If I should tell the king. 
Canst thou deny it again ? 

Mel. Try, and believe. 

CaL Nay, then thou canst bring any thing about 
Thou shah have the fort 

Mel. Why, well : 
Here let our hate be buried ; and this hand 
Shall right us both. Give me thy aged breast 
To compass. 

CaL Nay, I do not love thee yet; 
I cannot well endure to look on thee : 
And, if I thought it were a courtesy, 
Thou should'st not have it. But I am disgraced ; 
My offices are to be ta'en away ; 
And, if I did but hold this fort a day, 
I do believe, the king would take it from me. 
And give it thee, things are so strangely carried. 
Ne'er thank me for it; but yet the king shall know 
There was some such thing in it I told him of; 
And that I was an honest man. 

MeL He'll buy 
That knowledge very dearly. Diphilus, 

Enter Diphilus. 

What news with thee ? 

Diph. This were a night indeed 
To do it in : The king hath sent for her. 

MeL She shall perform it then. Go, Diphilus, 
And take from this good man,, my worthy friend, 
The fort ; hell give it thee. 

Diph. Have you got that ? 

CaL Art thou of the same breed ? Canst thou 
deny 
This to the king too ? 

Diph. With a confidence 
As great as his. 

CaL Faith, like enough. 

MeL Awav, and use him kindly. 

CaL Touch not me ; 
I hate the whole strain. If thou follow me, 
J\. great way off, I'll give thee up the fort ; 
And hang yourselves. 

Met. Be gone. 

Diph. He's finely wrought 

[Exeunt Col. and Diph 

MeL This is a night, -spite of astronomers, 



To do the deed in. I will wash the stain, 
That rests upon our house, off with bis blood. 

Enter Am in tor. 

Amin. Melantius, now assist me : If thou beta 
That, which thou sayest, assist me. I have lost 
All my distempers, and have found a rage 
So pleasing ! Help me. 

Mel. Who can see him thus, 
And not swear vengeance? What's the matter, 
friend ? 

Amin. Out with thy sword ! and, hand in hand 
with me, 
Rush to the chamber of this hated king, 
And sink him, with the weight of all his sins, 
To hell for ever. 

MeL Twere a rash attempt, 
Not to be done with safety. Let your reason 
Plot your revenge, and not your passion. 

Amin. If thou refusest ine in these extremes, 
Thou art no friend : He sent for her to me ; 
By Heaven*, to me, myself ! And, I must tell you, 
I love her, as a stranger ; there is worth 
In that vile woman, worthy things, Melantius ; 
And she repents. I'll do it myself alone, 
Though I be slain. Farewell. 

MeL He'll overthrow 
My whole design with madness. Amintor, 
Think what thou dost : I dare as much as Valour; 
But 'tis the king, the king, the king, Amintor, 
With whom thou tightest ! — I know he's honest, 
And this will work with him. [Aside. 

Amin. I cannot toll 
What thou hast said ; but thou hast charmed mj 

sword 
Out of my hand, and left me shaking here, 
Defenceless. 

Mel. I will take it up for thee. 

Amin. What a wild beast is uncollected man ! 
The thing, that we call honour, bears us all 
Headlong to sin, and yet itself is nothing. 

MeL Alas, how variable are thy thoughts ! 

Amin. Just like my fortunes: I was run to that 
I purposed to have chid thee for. Some plot, 
I did distrust, thou hadst against the king, 
By that old fellow's carringc. But take heed ; 
There's not the least limb growing to a king, 
But carries thunder in it 

MeL I have none 
Against him. 

Amin. Why, come then ; and still remember, 
We may not think revenge. 

MeL I will remember. [Exeunt. 



ACT V. 



Enter Evadjje, and a Gentleman. 
Evad. Sir, is the king a-bed ? 
Gent. Madam, an hour ago. 
Evad. Give roe the key men, and let none be 
near; 
Tis the king's pleasure. 



Gent. I understand you, madam; 'would 'twere 
mine. 
I must not wish good rest unto your ladyship. 

Evad. You talk, you talk. 

Gent. 'Tis all I dare do, madam ; but the king 
Will wake, and then 



Fletchzk.]' 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



€3 



Evad. Saving your imagination, pray, good 
right sir. 

Gent. A good night be it then, and a long one, 
madam. I am gone. [Exit. 

[King a-bed. 

Eoad\ The night grows horrible; and all about 
me 
like my black purpose. Oh, the conscience 
Of a lost virgin ! whither wilt thou pull roe ? 
To what things, dismal as the depth of hell, 
Wilt thou provoke me ? Let no woman dare 
From this hour be disloyal, if her heart be flesh, 
If she hare blood, and can fear : lis a daring 
Above that desperate fool's, that left his peace, 
And went to sea to fight. 'Tis so many sins, 
An age cannot repent them ; and so great, 
The gods want mercy for ! Yet, I must thro' 

them. 
I hue begun a slaughter on my honour, 
And I must end it there. lie sleeps. Good Hea- 
vens! 
Why give you peace to this untemperate beast, 
That hath so long transgressed you ? I must kill 

him, 
And I will do it bravely : The mere joy 
Telb me, I merit in it. Yet I must not 
Thas tamely do it, as he sleeps; that were 
To rock him to another world : My vengeance 
Shall take him waking, and then lav before him 
Tie Dumber of his wrongs and punishments. 
IT! shake bis sins like furies, till I waken 
His evil angel, his sick conscience, 
And then fll strike him dead. King, by your 
leave, [Ties his arm to the bed. 

I dare not trust your strength. Your grace and I 
Must grapple upon even terms no more. 
So: If he rail me not from my resolution, 
I shall be strong enough. My lord the king ! 
My lord ! He sleeps, as if he meant to wake 
No more. My lord ! Is he not dead already ? 
Sari My lord! 

Kmg. Who's that? 

EviL Oh, von sleep soundly, sir ! 

King. My dear Evadne, 
I have been dreaming of thee. Come to bed. 

Evad. I am come at length, sir; but how wel- 
come? 

&*£. What pretty new device is this, Evadne ? 
What, do you tie me to you ? By my love, 
This is a quaint one. Come, my dear, and kiss me ; 
FB be thy Mars; to bed, my queen of love : 
Let us be caught together, that the gods 
Mav see, and envy our embraces. 

Evad. Stay, sir, stay ; 
Yon are too hot, and I have brought you physic 
To temper your high veins. 

King. Prithee, to bed then ; let me take it warm ; 
There thou shall know the state of my body bet- 
ter. 

Evad. I know you have a surfeited foul body; 
tod you must bleed. 

I«g. Bleed! 



Evad. Ay, you shall bleed ! lie still ; and, it 
the "devil, 
Your lust, will give you leave, repent This steel 
Comes to redeem the honour, that you stole, 
King, my fair name; which nothing but thy death 
Can answer to the world. 

King. How is this, Evadne ? 

Evad. I am not she ; nor bear I in this breas: 
So much cold spirit to be called a woman. 
I am a tygcr ; I am any thing 
That knows not pity. Stir not ! If thou dost, 
I'll take thee unprepared ; thy fears upon thee, 
That make thy sins look double; and so send thee 
(By my revenge, I will) to look those torments, 
Prepared for such black souls. 

King. Thou dost not mean this; 'tis impossible 
Thou art too sweet and gentle. 

Evad. No, I am not 
I am as foul as thou art, and can number 
As many such hells here. I was once fair, 
Once I was lovely ; not a blowing rose 
More chastely sweet, till thou, thou, thou foul 

canker, 
(Stir not) didst poison me. I was a world of virtue, 
Till your curst court and you (hell bless you for it !) 
With your temptations on temptations, 
Made me give up mine honour; for which, king, 
I'm come to kill thee. 

King. No ! 

Evad, I am. 

King. Thou art not ! 
I prithee speak not these things : Thou art gentle, 
And wert not meant thus rugged. 

Evad. Peace, and hear me. 
Stir nothing but your tongue, and that for mercy 
To those above us ; by whose lights I vow, 
Those blessed fires, that shot to see our sin, 
If thy hot soul had substance with thy blood, 
I would kill that too ; which, being past my steel. 
My tongue shall reach. Thou art a shameless vil- 
lain! 
A thing out of the overcharge of nature ; 
Sent, like a thick cloud, to disperse a plague 
Upon weak catching women ! such a tyrant, 
That for his lust would sell away his subjects; 
Ay, all his heaven hereafter ! 

King. Hear, Evadne, 
Thou soul of sweetness, hear ! I am thy king. 

Evad. Thou art my shame ! lie still, there's 
none about you, 
Within your cries : All promises of safety 
Are but deluding dreams. Thus, thus, thou foul 

man, 
Thus I begin my vengeance ! [Stabs him* 

King. Hold, Evadne ! 
I do command thee hold. 

Evad. I do not mean, sir, 
To part so fairly with you ; we must change 
More of these love-tricks yet 

King. What bloody villain 
Provoked thee to this murder ? 

Evad. Thou, thou monster. 



$4 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



JBeaumont St 



King. Oh ! Evadne, pity me. 
Evad. Hell take me then ! This for my lord 
Amintor! 
This for my noble brother ! and this stroke 
For the most wronged of women ! [Kills htm. 
King. Oh ! I die. 

Evad. Die all our faults together ! t forgive 
thee. Exit. 

Enter tzco of the bedchamber, 

1. Come, now she's gone, let's enter; the king 
Expects it, and will be angiy. 

2. How fast he is ! I cannot hear him breathe. 
1. Eitlier the tapers give a feeble light, 

Or lie looks very pale. 
S. And so he dioes : 
Pray heaven he be well ; let's look. Alas ! 
lie's stiff, wounded and dead ! Treason, treason ! 

1. Run forth and call. 

2. Treason, treason ! [Exit, 
1. This will be laid on us : 

Who can believe a woman could do this ! 

Enter Cleon and Lysippus. 
Cleon. How now ! Where's the traitor ? 
1. Fled, fled away ; but there her woeful act 

lies still. 
Cleon. Her act ! a woman ! 
Lys. Where's the body ? 
1. There. 

Lys. Farewell, thou worthy man ! There were 
two bonds, 
That tied onr loves, a brother and a king ; 
The least of which might fetch a flood of tears : 
But j»uch the misery of greatness is, 
They have no time to mourn ; then pardon me : 
Sirs, which way went she ? 

Enter Strato. 

Stra. Never follow her ; 
For she, alas ! was but the instrument 
News is now brought in that Melantius 
Has got the fort, and stands upon the wall ; 
And with a loud voice calls those few, that pass 
At this dead time of night, delivering 
The innocence of this act 

Lys, Gentlemen, I am your king. 

Stra, We dp acknowledge it 

Lys. I would I were not! Follow, all; for this 
Must have a 6udden stop. . [Exeunt. 

Enter Melantius, Diphilus, am* Cali an ax, 

on the vhUL 

Mel. If the dull people can believe I am armed, 
(Be constant, Diphilus !) now we have time, 
Either to bring our banished honours home, 
Or create new ones in our ends. 

Diph. I fear not. 
M v spirit lies not that way. Courage, CaHanax. 
Cat.' Would I had any! you should quickly knowit 

Mel. Speak to tire people : Thou art eloquent. 

Col. Tis a fine eloquence to come to the callows ! 
You were born to be my end. The devil take you ! 
Now must I hang for company. Tis strange, 
I should be old. and neither wise nor valiant. 



Enter Lysippus, Diaooras, Cleok, Strato, 

and guard. 

Lys. See where he stands, as boldly confident, 
As if he had his full command about him. 

Stra. He looks as if he had the better cause, Sir; 
Under your gracious pardon, let me apeak it ! 
Though he be mighty spirited, and forward 
To all great things ; to all things of that danger 
Worse men shake at the telling of; yet, certainly, 
I do believe him noble; and this action 
Rather pulled on, than sought: His mind was ever 
As worthy as his hand. 

Lys. 'Tis my fear, too. 
Heaven~&rgive all ! Summon him, lord Cleon. 

Cleon. Ho, from the walls there. 

Mel. Worthy Cleon, welcome. 
Wc could have wished you here, lord : You are 
honest. 

Cal. Well, thou art as nattering a knave, though 
I dare not tell thee so- [Aside* 

Lys. Melantius! 

Mel. Sir. 

Lys. I am sorry, that we meet thus; our old love 
Never required such distance. Pray Heaven, 
You liave not left yourself, and sought this safety 
More out of fear than honour 1 You have lost 
A noble master ; which your faith, Melantius, 
Some think, might have preserved: Yet yon 
know best 

Cal When time was, I was and; some, that 
dares fight, 
I hope will pay this rascal 

MeL Royal young man, whose tears look lovely 
on thee, 
Had they been shed for a deserving one, 
They had own lasting monuments! Thy brother, 
While he was good, I cali'd him king ; andserv'd him 
With that strong faith,, that most unwearied va- 
lour, 
Pulled people from the farthest sun to seek him, 
And beg his friendship. I was then his soldier. 
But since his hot pride drew him to disgrace me, 
And brand my noble actions with his lust 
(That never cured dishonour of my sister, 
Base stain of whore ! and, which is worse, 
The joy to make it still so), like myself, 
Thus I have flung him off with my allegiance; 
And stand here mine own justice, to revenge 
What I have suffered in him ; and this old man, 
Wronged almost to lunacy. 

CaL Who I ? 
You would draw me in. I have had no wrong, 
'I do disclaim ye all. 

MeL The short is this : 
Tis no ambition to lift up myself 
Urgeth me thus; I do desire again 
To be a subject, so I may be free, 
If not, I know my strength, and will unbuild 
This goodly town. Be speedy, and be wise, 
In a reply. 

Stra. Be sudden, sir, to tie 
All up again : What's done is past recall, 
And past you to revenge; and there are thousands, 



Flbtchee.] 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



25 



That ntb for such a troubled boor is 
Thim mm the blank. 

IgL MHsgirhn, write in that 
Ity cfeoioe: My seal is at it 

MeL It was our honours draw us to this act, 
Hint gain; and we will only work our pardons. 

Csl Pat nry name in too. 

DtpL You disciaim'd us all 
Bat bow, Cabanas. 

CaL That is all one; 
IH not be hanged hereafter by a trick : 
m have it in. 

MeL Yoa shall, you shall. 
Come to the back gate, and we'll call you king, 
And give you up the fort 

Lgs. Away, away. [Exeunt omnes. 

Enter Aspatia, in man's apparel 

Asp. Tins is my fatal hour. Heaven may forgive 
My ram attempt, that causelessly hath laid 
Griefs on me, mat will never let me rest ; 
And put a woman's heart into my breast. 
It k more honour for you, tht 1 1 die ; 
For she, that can endure the misery, 
That I have on me, and be patient too, 
May hVe and laugh at all that you can do. 



God 



save you, sir 



I 



Enter Servant. 



Ser. And you, sir. What's your business? 

Asa. With you, sir, now; to do me the fair office 
To help me to your lord. 

Ser. What, would you serve him ? 

Asp. m do him any service ; out, to haste, 
For my aftairs are earnest, I desire 
To speak with bint 

Ser. Sir, because you're in such haste, I would 
be loth delay you any longer : You cannot 

Asp. It shall become you, though, to tell your 
lord. 

Ser. Sir, he will speak with nobody ; but, in 
particular, I have in charge, about no weighty 
nutters. 

Asp. This is most strange. Art thou gold proof? 
There's for thee ; help me to him. 

Ser. Pray be not angry, sir. Til do my best 

[Exit. 

Asp. How stubbornly this fellow answered me ! 
There is a vile dishonest trick in man, 
More than in women : All the men I meet 
Appear thus to me, are all harsh and rude ; 
And have a subtilty in every thing, 
Which love could never know. But we fond wo- 



Harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts, 

Aad think, all shall go so ! It is unjust, 

That men and women should be matched together. 

Enter Ami ktok and kit man. 



Where is he? 
jfer. There, my lord* 



Amin. What would you, air ? 

Asp. Please it your lordship to command your 
man 
Out of the room, I shall deliver things, 
Worthy your hearing. 

Amin. Leave us. [Exit servant. 

Asp. Oh, that that shape 
Should bury falsehood in it ! [Aside. 

Amin. Now your will, sir. 

Asp. When you know me, my lord, you needs 
must guess 
My business; and I am not hard to know ; 
For till the chance of war marked this smooth 

face 
With these few blemishes, people would call me 
My sister's picture, and her mine. In short, 
I am the brother to the wronged Aspatia. 

Amin r The wronged Aspatia ! 'Would thou wert 
so too 
Unto the wronged Amintor ! Let me kiss 
That hand of thine, in honour that I bear 
Unto the wronged Aspatia. Here I stand, 
That did it : 'Would be could not ! Gentle youth, 
Leave me; for there is something in thy looks, 
That calls my sins, in a most hideous form, 
Into my mind; and I have grief enough 
Without thy help. 
• Asp. I would I could with credit 
Since I was twelve years old, I had not seen 
My sister, till this hour; I now arrived : 
She sent for me to see her marriage ; 
A woeful one ! But they, that are above, 
Have ends in every thing. She used few words ; 
But yet enough to make me understand 
The baseness of the injuries you did her. 
That little training, I have had, is war : 
I may behave myself rudely in peace ; 
I would not, though. I shall not need to tell yoo^ 
I am but young, and would be loth to lose 
Honour, that is not easily gained again. 
Fairly I mean to deal : The age is strict 
For single combats; and we shall be stopped, 
If it be published. If you like your sworo, 
Use it; if mine appear a better to you, 
Change ; for the ground is this, and this the time, 
To end our difference. 

Amin. Charitable youth, 
(If thou be'st such) think not I will maintain 
So strange a wrong : And, for thy sister's sake, 
Know, that I could not think that desperate thing, 
I durst not do ; yet, to enjoy this world, 
I would not see her ; for, beholding thee, 
I am I know not what If I have aught, 
That may content thee, take it, and be gone ; 
For death is not so terrible as thou. 
Thine eyes shoot guilt into me. 

Asp. Thus, she swore, 
Thou wouldst behave thyself; and give me words, 
That would fetch tears into my eves ; and so 
Thou dost, indeed. But yet she bade me watch, 
Lest I were cozened ; ana be sure to fight, 
Ere I returned. 



26 



BRITISH DRAMA; 



[Beaumont & 



Amin. That mast not be with me. 
For her Til die directly ; but against her 
Will never hazard it 

Asp. You must be urged. 
I do not deal uncivilly with those, 
That dare to fight ; but such a one as you 
Must be used thus. [She strikes him. 

Amin. I prithee, youth, take heed. 
Thy sister is a thing to me so much 
Above mine honour, that I can endure 
All this. Good gods ! a blow I can endure ! 
But stay not, lest thou draw a timeless death 
Upon thyself. 

Asp. Thou art some prating fellow ; 
One, that hath studied out a trick to talk, 
And move soft-hearted people ; to be kick'd 

[She kicks him. 
Thus, to be kick'd ! — Why should ne be so slow 
In giving me my death ? [Aside. 

Amin. A man can bear 
No more, and keep his flesh. Forgive mc, then ! 
I would endure yet, if I could. Now shew 
The spirit thou pretend'st, and understand, 
^Thou nast no hour to live. [They fight. 

What dost thou mean ? 

Thou canst not fight : The blows thou mak'stat me 
Arc quite besides ; and those, I offer at thee, 
Thou spread'st thine arms, and tak'st upon thy 

breast, 
Alas, defenceless ! 

Asp. I have got enough, 
And my desire. There is no place so fit 
For me to die as here. 

Enter Evadne, her hands bloody, with a knife. 

Evad. Amintor, I am loaden with events, 
That fly to make thee happy. I have joys, 
That in a moment can calf back thy wrongs, 
And settle thee in thy free state again. 
It is Evadnc still, that follows thee, 
But not her mischiefs. 

Amin. Thou canst not fool me to believe again ; 
But thou hast looks and things so full of news, 
That I am staved. 

Evad. Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze, 
Let thine eyes loose, and speak : Am I not fair ? 
Looks not Evadne beauteous, with these rites now ? 
Were those hours half so lovely in thine eyes, 
When our hands met before the holy man ? 
I was too foul within to look fair then: 
Since I knew ill, I was not free till now. 

Amin. There is presage of some important thing 
About thee, which, it seems, thy tongue hath lost 
Thy hands are bloody, and thou hast a knife ! 

Evad. In this consists thy happiness and mine. 
Joy to Amintor ! for the king is dead. 

Amin. Those have most power to hurt us, that 
we love; 
We lay our sleeping lives within their arms! 
Why, thou hast raised up Mischief to his height, 
And found one, to out-name thy other faults. 
Thou hast no intermission of thy sins, 



But all thy life is a continued ill. 
Black is thy colour now, disease thy nature. 
Joy to Amintor ! Thou hast touched a life, 
The very name of which had power to chain 
Up all my rage, and calm my wildest wrongs. 

Evad. Tis done ; and since I could not find a wajr. 
To meet thy love so clear as through his life, 
I cannot now repent it 

Amin. Couldst thou procure the gods to speak 
to me, 
To bid me love this woman, and forgive, 
I think I should fall out with them. Behold, 
Here lies a youth, whose wounds bleed in my 

breast. 
Sent by his violent fate, to fetch his death 
From my slow hand : And, to augment my woe, 
You now are present, stained with a king's blood. 
Violently shea. This keeps night here, 
And throws an unknown wilderness about me. 

Asp, Oh, oh, oh ! 

Amin. No more ; pursue me not. 

Evad. Forgive me then, and take me to thy bed. 
We may not part 

Amin. Forbear ! Be wise, and let my rage 
Go this way. 

Evad. 1js you, that I would stay, not it 

Amin. Take heed ; it will return with me. 

Evad. If it must be, I shall not fear to meet it: 
Take me home. 

Amin. Thou monster of cruelty, forbear ! 

Evad. For heaven's sake, look more calm : 
Thine eyes are sharper than thou canst make thy 
sword. 

Amin. Away, away ! 
Thy knees are more to me than violence* 
I'm worse than sick to see knees, follow me, 
For that I must not grant For heaven's sake, stand 

Evad. Receive me, then. 

Amin. I dare not stay thy language : 
In midst of all my anger and my grief, 
Thou dost awake something, that troubles me, 
And says, ' I loved thee once/ I dare not stay; 
There is no end of woman's reasoning. 

[Leaves her. 

Evad. Amintor, thou shalt love me now again.: 
Go ; I am calm. Farewell, and peace for ever ! 
Evadne, whom thou hatfst, will die for thee. 

[Kills herself. 

Amin. I have a little human nature yet, 
That's left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. 

[Returns; 

Evad.' Thy hand was welcome, but k came toe 
late. 
Oh, I am lost ! the heavy sleep makes haste. 

[She dies. 

Asp. Oh, oh, oh ! 

Amin. Tliis earth of mine doth tremble, and \ 
feel 
A stark affrighted motion in my blood : 
My soul grows weary of her house, and I 
All over am a trouble to myself. 
There is some hidden power in these dead things* 






Fletchee.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



27 



Tint cans my flesh unto them : I am cold : 
Be resdote, sod bear them company. 
There's something, yet, which I am loth to leave. 
There's man enough in me to meet the fears, 
last death can bring; and yet, 'would it were 

done! 
I can find nothing in the whole discourse 
Of death, I durst not meet the boldest way ; 
Yet still, betwixt the reason and die act, 
The wrong I to Aspatia did stands up : 
I hare not such another fault to answer. 
Though she may justly arm herself with scorn 
And hate of me, my soul will part less troubled, 
When I have paid to her in tears my sorrow, 
I will not leave this act unsatisfied, 
If ad that's left in me can answer it. 
Am. Was it a dream ? There stands Amintor 
still; 
Or I dream still. 
Amm, How dost thou ? Speak; receive my love 
and help. 
Thj blood climbs up to his old place again : 
There's hope of thy recovery. 
Asp. Did you not name Aspatia ? 
Am. I did. 

Asp. And talked of tears and sorrow unto her? 
Amin. Tb true; and 'till these happy signs in 
thee 
Did stay my course, 'twas thither I was going. 
Asp. ThoVrt there already, and these wounds 
are hers: 
Those threats, I brought with me, sought not re- 

venge; 
Ait came to fetch this blessing from thy hand. 
I am Aspatia yet. 
Amm. Dare my soul ever look abroad again ? 
Asp. I shall surely live, Amintor ; I am well : 
A kind of healthful joy wanders within me. 

Amm. The world wants lives to excuse thy loss ! 
Come, let me bear thee to some place of help. 

Asp. Amintor, thou must stay; I must rest here ; 
My strength begins to disobey my will. 
How dost thou, my best soul? I would fain live 
Now, if I could : Wouldst thou have loved me, 
then? 
Amin. Alas! 
All that I am's not worth a hair from thee. 
Asp. Give me thy hand ; my hands grope up 
and down, 
And cannot find thee : I am wondrous sick : 
Have I thyhand, Amintor ? 
Amm. Thou greatest blessing of the world, 

thou hast 
Asp. I do believe thee better than my sense. 
Oh ! I must go. Farewell ! [Dies. 

Amm. She swoons ! Aspatia ! Helpl for 
heaven's sake, water ! 
Soch as may chain life ever to this frame. 
Aspatia, sneak ! What, no help yet? I fool ! 
TO chafe ner temples : Yet there's nothing stirs : 
Some hidden power tell her, Amintor calls. 
And let her answer me ! Aspatia, speak ! 



I've heard, if there be any life, but bow 
The body thus, and it wiU shew itself. 
Oh, she is gone ! I will not leave her yet. 
Since out of justice we must challenge nothing, 
I'll call it mercy, if you'll pity me, 
Ye heavenly powers ! and lend, for some few years, 
The blessed soul to this fair seat again. 
No comfort comes ; the gods deny me too ! 
I'll bow the body once again. Aspatia ! 
The soul is fled for ever ; and I wrong 
Myself, so long to lose her company. 
Must I talk now ? Here's to be witn thee, love ! 

[Kills himself. 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. This is a great grace to my lord, to have 
the new king come to him : I must tell him he 
is entering. Oh, heaven ! Help, help ! 

Enter Lysippus,Melantius,Calianax,Cleoic, 
Diphilus, and Sthato. 

loft. Where's Amintor ? 

Serv. Oh, there, there. 

Lm. How strange is this ! 

Cat. What should we do here ? 

Mel These deaths are such acquainted things 
with me, 
That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand 
Stiff here for ever ! Eyes, call up your tears ! 
This is Amintor : Heart ! he was my friend ; 
Melt ; now it flows. Amintor, give a word 
To call me to thee. 

Amin. Oh ! 

MeL Melantius calls his friend Amintor. Oh, 
thy arms 
Are kinder to me than thy tongue ! Speak, speak! 

Amin. What? 

MeL That little word was worth all the sounds, 
That ever I shall hear again. 

Diph. Oh, brother ! 
Here lies your sister slain ; you lose yourself 
In sorrow there. 

MeL Why, Diphilus, it is 
A thing to laugh at, in respect of this : 
Here was my sister, father, brother, son : 
All that I had ! Speak once again : What youth 
Lies slain there by thee? 

Amin. Tis Aspatia. 
My last is said. Let me give up my soul 
Into thy bosom. [Die$. 

Cal. What's that? what's that? Aspatia! 

MeL I never did 
Repent the greatness of my heart till now : 
It will not burst at need. 

Cal. My daughter dead here too ! And you 
have all fine new tricks to grieve ; but I never 
knew any but direct crying. 

MeL I am a prattler ; but no more. 

[Offers to kill himself. 

Diph. Hold, brother. 



£8 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 3? 



Lys. Stop ran. 

DipL Fie ! how unmanly was this offer in you ; 
Does this become our strain ? 

CaL I know not what the matter is, but I am 
grown very kind, and am friends with you. You 
have given me that among you, will kill me quick- 
ly ; but HI go home, and live as long as I can. 

Mel. His spirit is but poor, that can he kept 
From death for want of weapons. 
{? not my hand a weapon sharp enough 



| To stop my breath ? or, if you tie down those, 
I vow, Amintor, I will never eat, 
Or drink, or sleep, or have to do with that, 
That may preserve life ! This I swear to keep. 

Lyt. Lock to him tho', and bear those bodies in. 
May this a fair example be to me, 
To rule with temper : For, on lustful kings, 
Unlooked-for, sudden deaths from heaven are sent; 
But curst is he, that is their instrument 

[Exeunt omae*. 



PHILASTER; 



OE 



LOVE LIES A-BLEEDING. 



BY 



BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 



DRAMATIS PERSONA. 



MEN* 

Irs*. 

PuLAsm, heir to the crown. 
Pi 11 a mo* d, prince of Spain, 
Dior, a lord. 

8ESK }••*«««"■■%* 

An eld captain. 

Five citizens. 

A country fellow. 

Tmo woodmen, 

TU kings gnord mnd train. 



associates. 



WOMEN. 



Arethusa, the fangs daughter. 

Galatea, a wise modest lady, attending the prinr 

cess, 
Megra, a lascivious lady. 
An old wanton lady, or crone, attending theprin- 



Another lady attending the princess, 
Euphrasia, daughter of Dion, but disguised like 
a page, and called Bellario. 



Scene, — Sicily. 



ACT!. 



tnter Dion, Cleremoxt. und ThrasilinE. 

Cle. Here's nor. lords nor ladies ! 

Dion. Credit me, gentlemen, I wonder at it 
They received strict charge from the king to at- 
tend here. Besides, it was boldly published, that 
no officer should forbid any gentlemen, that de- 
sire to attend and hear. 

Cle. Can you guess the cause t 

Dion. Sir, it is plain, about the Spanish prince, 
that's come to many our kingdom's heir, and be 
our sovereign. 

Thro. Many, that will seem to know much, 
ar/, she looks not on him like a maid in lore. 

Dion. Oh, sir, the multitude (that seldom know 
soy that but their own opinions) speak that, 
thry would bare ; but the prince, before his own 
approach, received so many confident messages 
rub the state, that I think she's resolved to be 
ruled. 

Cle. Sir, it is thought, with her he shall enjoy 
»tth these kingdoms of Sicily and Calabria. 



Dion. Sir, it is, without controversy, so meant. 
But 'twill be a troublesome labour for him to 
enjoy both these kingdoms with safety, the right 
heir to one of them living, and living so vir- 
tuously; especially, the people admiring the 
bravery of his mind, and lamenting his injuries. 

Cle, Who?Philaster? 

Dion. Yes ; Whose father, we all know, was 
by our late king of Calabria unrighteously deposed 
from his fruitful Sicily. Myself drew some blood 
in those wars, which I would give my hand to be 
washed from. 

Cle. Sir, my ignorance in state policy will not 
let me know, why, Philaster being heir to one of 
these kingdoms, the lane should suffer him to walk 
abroad with such free liberty. 

Dion. Sir, it seems your nature is more con- 
stant than to enauire after state news. But the 
king, of late, made a hazard of both the kingdoms, 
of Sicily and his own, with offering but to imprison 
Philaster. At which the city was in arms^ not to 



L 



30 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 4 



be charmed down by any state order or procla- 
mation, till they saw Philaster ride through the 
streets pleased, and without a guard ; at which 
they threw their hats, and their arms -from them ; 
some to make bonfires, some to drink, all for his 
deliverance. Which, wise men say, is the cause, 
the king labours to bring in the power of a foreign 
nation, to awe his own with. 

.Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa, and train. 

King. To give a stronger testimony of love 
Than sickly promises (which commonly 
In princes find both birth and burial 
In one breath), we have drawn you, worthy sir, 
To make your fair endearments to our daughter, 
And worthy services known to our subjects, 
Now loved and wondered at. Next, our intent, 
To plant you deeply, our immediate heir, 
Both to our blood and kingdoms. For this lady 
(The best part of your life, as you confirm me, 
And I believe) though her few years and sex 
Yet teach her nothing but her fears and blushes, 
Desires without desire, discourse and knowledge 
Only of what herself is to herself, 
Make her feel moderate health ; and when she 

sleeps, 
In making no ill day, knows no Ul dreams. 
Think not, dear sir, these undivided parts, 
That must mould up a virgin, are put on 
To shew her so, as borrowed ornaments, 
To speak her perfect love to you, or add 
An artificial shadow to her nature : 
No, Sir ; I boldly dare proclaim her, yet 
No woman. But woo her still, and think her 

modesty 
A sweeter mistress than the offered language 
Of any dame, were she a queen, whose eye 
Speaks common loves and comforts to her servants. 
Last, noble son (for so I now must call you), 
What I have done thus public, is not only 
To add a comfort in particular 
To you or. me, but all ; and to confirm 
The nobles, and the gentry of these kingdoms, 
By oath to your succession, which shall be 
Within this month at most 

Thra. This will be hardly done. 
Cle. It must be ill done, if it be done. 
Dion. When 'tis at best, 'twill be but 
half done, whilst 
So brave a gentleman's wronged, and flung 

off. y Aside. 

Thra. I fear. 
Cle. Who does not ? 
Dion. I fear not for myself, and yet I 
fear too. 
Well, we shall seei we shall see. No more. J 

Pha. Kissing your white hand, mistress, I take 
leave 
To thank your royal father ; and thus far 
To be my own free trumpet Understand, 
Great king, and these your subjects, mine that 

must be, 
(For so deserving you have spoke me, sir, 



£$}** 



And so deserving I dare speak myself) 

To what a person, of what eminence, 

Ripe expectation, of what faculties, 

Manners and virtues, you would wed your kingw 

doms: 
You in me have your wishes. Oh, this country ! 
By more than all my hopes I hold it happy ; 
Happy, in their dear memories, that have been 
Kings great and good ; happy in yours, that is ; 
And from you (as a chronicle to keep 
Your noble name from eating age) do I 
Open myself, most happy. Gentlemen, 
Believe me in a word, a prince's word, 
There shall be nothing to make up a kingdom 
Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, feared, 
Equal to be commanded and obeyed, 
But through the travels of my life I'll find it, 
And tie it to this country. And I vow 
My reign shall be so easy to the subject, 
That every man shall be his prince himself, 
And his own law (yet I his prince and law). 
And, dearest lady, to your dearest self 
(Dear, in the choice of him whose name and lustre 
Must make you more and mightier) let me say, 
You are the blessedest living; for, sweet princess. 
You shall make him yours, for whom 
Great queens must die. 

Thra. Miraculous! 

Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, 
being nothing but a large inventory 
of his own commendations. 

Enter Philaster. 

"Dion. I wonder what's his price? For certainly 
He'll sell himself, he has so praised his shape. 
But here comes one, more worthy those large 

speeches, 
Than the large speaker of them. 
Let me be swallowed quick, if I can find, 
In all die anatomy of yon man's virtues, 
One sinew sound enough to promise for him, 
He shall be constable. 
By this sun, he'll never make a king 
Unless it be for trifles, in my poor judgment 

Phi. Bight noble sir, as low as my obedience, 
And with a heart as loyal as my knee, 
I beg your favour. 

King. Rise; you have it, sir. 

Dibit. Mark but the king how pale be looks- 
with fear ! 
Oh ! this same whorson conscience, how it jades as ! 

King. Speak your intents,' sir. 

Phi. Shall I speak them freely ? 
Be still my royal sovereign. — 

King. As a subject, . 
We give you freedom. 

Dion. Now it heats. 

Phi. Then thus I turn 
My language to you, prince ; you. foreign man ! 
Ne'er stare, nor put on wonder, for you must 
Endure me, and you shall. This earth you tread 
. upon. 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



31 



(A dowry, as rati hope, with this fair princess) 
By my dad rather (oh, I had a father, 
Whose memory I bow to !) was not left 
To tobt inheritance, and I up and living ; 
flaring myself about me, and my sword, 
The souls of all my name, and memories, 
These arms, and some few friends, besides the gods ; 
To part so calmly with it, and sit still, 
And say, * I might hare been.' I tell thee, Pha- 
ramond, 
When thou art king, look I be dead and rotten, 
And my name ashes : For, hear me, Pharamond ! 
This very groand, thou goest on, this fat earth, 
My father 's friends made fertile with their faiths, 
Before that day of shame, shall gape and swallow 
Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave, 
Into her hidden bowels. Prince, it shall ; 
By Nemesis, it shall ! 

Pa*. He's mad ; beyond cure, mad. 

Ditm. Here is a fellow has some fire in his veins : 
The outlandish prince looks like a tooth-drawer. 

Phi Sir, prince of poppingjays, I'll make it 
well appear 
To jou, I am not mad. 

ting. Ton displease us : 
Yoa are too bold 

Pki. No, sir, I am too tame, 
Too much a turtle, a thing, born without passion, 
A faint shadow, that every drunken cloud sails 

over, 
And makes nothing. 

King. I do not fancy this. 
Call our physicians : Sure he is somewhat tainted. 

IV*. I do not think 'twill prove so. 

Dion. lie has given him a general purge already, 
for til the right he has ; and now he means to 
let him blood. Be constant, gentlemen : By these 
lata. 111 run his hazard, although I run my name 
out of the kingdom. 

Cle. Peace, we axe all one soul. 

Pkm. What you have seen in roe, to stir oflence, 
I cannot find ; unless it be this lady, 
Offered into mine arms, with the succession ; 
Which I must keep, though it hath pleased your 

fury 
To mutiny within you ; without disputing 
Your genealogies, or taking knowledge 
Whose branch yoa are. The king will leave it 

me; 
And I dare make it mine. You have your answer. 

Phi If thou wert sole inheritor to him, 
That made the world his, and couldst sec no stm 
Shine upon any thin^ but thine; were Pharamond 
As truly valiant as I feel him cold, 
And ringed among the choicest of his friends 
(Soch as would blush to talk such serious follies, 
Or back such bellied commendations), 
And from this presence, spite of all these bugs, 
Yoo should hear further from me. 

King. Sir, yoo wrong the prince : 
I gave you not this freedom to brave our best 
friends. 



You deserve our frown. Go to ; be better tem- 
pered. 

Phi. It must be, sir, when I am nobler used. 

King. Phitaster, tell me 
The injuries you aim at, in your riddles. 

Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance, 
My griefs upon you, and my broken fortunes, 
My wants great, and now nought but hopes and 

fears, 
My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laughed at 
Dare you be still my king, and right me not? 

King. Give me your wrongs in private.  

[They whisper. 

PhL Take them, 
And ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas. 

Cle. He dares not stand the shock. 

Dion. I cannot blame him : there's danger in't. 
Every man in this age has not a soul of crystal, 
for all men to read their actions through : Men's 
hearts and faces are so far asunder, that they 
hold no intelligence. Do but view yon stranger 
well, and you shall see a fever through all his 
bravery, and feel him shake like a true recreant. 
If he give not back his crown again, upon the re- 
port of an elder gun, I have no augury. 

King. Go to ! 
Be more yourself, as you respect our favour ; 
You'll stir us else. Sir, I must have you know, 
That you are, and shall be, at our pleasure, what 

fashion we 
Will put upon you. Smooth your brow, or by the 
gods 

Phi I am dead, sir ; you are my fate. It was 
not I 
Said, I was wronged : I carry all about me, 
My weak stars lead me to, all my weak fortunes. 
Who dares in all this presence speak (that is 
But man of flesh, and may be mortal) tell me, 
I do not most entirely love this prince, 
And honour his full virtues ! 

King. Sure, he's possessed. 

Phi. Yes, with my father's spirit : It is here, 
Oking! 
A dangerous spirit Now he tells me, king, 
I was a king's heir, bids me be a king ; 
And whispers to me, these are all my subjects. 
'Tis strange he will not let me sleep, but dives 
Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes, 
That kneel, and do me service, cry me u king :'* 
But I'll suppress him ; he's a factious spirit, 
And will undo me. Noble sir, your hand : 
I am your servant. 

* King. Away, I do not like this : 
I'll make you tamer, or I'll dispossess you 
Both of life and spirit : For this time 
I pardon your wild speech, without so much 
As your imprisonment. [Ex. King, Pha. and Are. 
Dion. See, how his fancy labours ! Has he not 
Spoke home, and bravely? What a dangerous 

train, 
Did he give fire to ! How he shook the king, 
Made his soul molt within him, and his blood 



St 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaxjm out £> 



Boa into whey ! It stood upon his brow, 
Like a cold winter dew. 

FA*. Gentlemen, 
You have no suit to me ? I mm no minion : 
You stand, raethinks, like men, that would be 

courtiers, 
If you could well be flattered at a price 
Not to undo your children. You are all honest : 
Go, get you home again, and make your country 
As virtuous court; to which your mat ones may, 
In their diseased age, retire, and live recluse. 

Ck. How do you, worthy sir? 

Phi. Well, very well ; 
And so well, that, if the king please, I find 
I may live many years. 

Dion. The lung must please, 
Whilst we know what you are, and who you are, 
Your wrongs and injuries. Shrink not, worthy sir, 
But add your father to you : In whose name, 
We'll waken all the gods, and conjure up 
The rods of vengeance, the abused people ; 
Who, like to raring torrents, shall swell high, 
And so begirt the dens of these male-dragons, 
That, through the strongest safety, they shall beg 
For mercy at your sword's point. 

Phi. Friends, no more; 
Our ears may be corrupted : Tis an age 
We dare not trust our wills to. Do you love me? 

Thro. Do we love Heaven and honour? 

Phi My lord Dion, 
You had a virtuous gentlewoman called you fa* 

ther; 
Is she yet alive ? 

Dion. Most honoured sir, she is : 
And, for the penance but of an idle dream, 
Has undertook a tedious pilgrimage. 

Enter a Lady. 

Phi. Is it to me, or any of these gentlemen, 
you come ? 

Lady. To you, brave lord: The princess would 
entreat your present company. 

Phi. The princess send for me! You are mis- 
taken. 

Lady. If y<m be called Philaster, 'tis to you. 

Phi. Kiss hef fair hand, and say I will attend 
her. 

Dion. Do you know what you do? 

Phi. Yes ; go to see a woman. 

Cle. But do you weigh the danger you are in ? 

Phi. Danger in a sweet face ! 
By Jupiter, I must not fear a woman. 

Thra. But are you safe it was the princess sent? 
It may be some foul train to catch your life. 

Phi. I do not think it, gentlemen; she's noble; 
Her eye may shoot me dead, or those true red 
And white friends in her face may steal my soul 

out: 
There's all the danger in it. But, be what may, 
Her single name hath armed me. [Exit Phi. 

Dion, Go on : 
And be as truly happy as thou art fearless. 

3 



Come, gentlemen, let's make our friend* 

quainted, 
Lest the king prove false. [Exeunt. 

Enter Arethusa and a Lady. 

Are, Comes he not ? 

Lady* Madam? 

Are. Will PhHaster come? 

Lady. Dear madam, you were wont 
To credit me at first. 

Art. But didst thou tell me so ? 
I am forgetful, and my woman's strength 
Is so o'ercharged with dangers like to grow 
About my marriage, that these under things 
Dare not abide in such a troubled sea, 
How looked he, when he told thee he would come? 

Lady. Why, well. 

Art. And not a httle fearful ? 

Lady. Fear, madam ? sure, he knows not what 
it is. 

Are. Ye are all of his faction ; the whole court 
Is bold in praise of him ; whilst I 
May live neglected, and do noble things, 
As fools in strife throw gold into the sea, 
Drowned in the doing. But, I know he fears. 

Lady. Fear? Madam, methought, his looks hid 
more 
Of love than fear. 

Are. Of love ? to whom ? to you ! 
Did you deliver those plain words, I sent; 
With such a winning gesture, and quick look, 
That you have caught him ? 

Lady. Madam, I mean to you. 

Are. Of love to me ? alas f thy ignorance 
Lets thee not see the crosses of our births/ 
Nature, that loves not to be questioned 
Why she did this, or that, but has her ends, 
Ana knows she does well, never gave the world 
Two things so opposite, so contrary, 
As he and I am : If a bowl of blood, 
Drawn from this arm of mine, would poison thee, 
A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to me ? 

Lady. Madam, I think I hear him. 

Are. Bring him in. 
Ye gods, that would not have your dooms with- 
stood, 
Whose holy wisdoms at this time it is, 
To make the passion of a feeble maid 
The way unto your justice, I obey. 

Enter Philaster. 

Lady. Here is my lord Philaster. 

Are. Oh ! 'tis well. 
Withdraw yourself. 

Phi. Madam, your messenger 
Made me believe you wished to speak with me. 

Are. lis true, Philaster ; but the words are such 
I have to say, and do so ill beseem 
The mouth of woman, that I wish them said, 
And yet am loth to speak them. Have you known, 
That I have ought detracted from your worth ? 
Have I in person wronged you ? or have set ' 



[Exit Lady 



FtBTCHfeE.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



S3 



My baser instruments, to throw disgrace 
Upon tout virtues ? 

Phi. Nercr, madam, you. 

Are. Why, then, should you, in such a public 
place, 
Injure a princess, and a scandal lay 
Upon my fortunes, famed <o be so great; 
Calfing a great part of my dowry in question ? 

Pki. Madam, this truth, which I shall speak, 
will be 
Beo&sh : But, for your fair and virtuous self, * 
I could aHurd myself to have no right 
To any thine, you wished. 

Are. Phiiaster, know, 
I most enjoy these kingdoms. 

PkL Madam! Both? 

Are. Both, or I die : By fate, I die, Phiiaster, 
If I not calmly may enjoy them both. 

PkL I would do much to save that noble life : 
Yet would be loth to have posterity 
find in our stories, that Phiiaster gave 
His right unto a sceptre, and a crown, 
To save a lady's lontrin?. 

Are. Nay then, hear ! 
I most and will have them, and more — — 

PA*. What more? 

Are. Or lose that little life the gods prepared, 
To trouble this poor piece of earth withal. 

PkL Madam, what more ? , 

Are. Torn, then, away thy face. 

PkL No. 

Art. Do. 

PkL I can't endore it. Turn away my face ? 
I never yet saw enemy, that looked 
So dreadfully, but that I thought myself 
As great a basilisk as he; or spake 
So horribly, but that I thought my tongue 
Bore thunder underneath, as much as his ; 
Nor beast, that I could turn from : Shall I then 
Begin to fear sweet sounds ? a lady's voice, 
Whom I do love ? Say, you would have my life ; 
Why, I will give it you ; for it is to me 
A thing so loathed, and unto you, that ask, 
Of so poor use, that I will make no price : 
If you entreat, I will unmovedly hear. 

Are. Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy looks. 

Pki. I do. 

Are. Then know, I must have them> and thee. 

Pki. And me ? 

Are. Thy love ; without which, all the land, 
Discovered yet, will serve me for no use, 
Bat to be buried in. 

PkL Wt possible? 

Are. With it, it were too little to bestow 
On thee. Now, though thy breath do strike me 

dead, 
(Which, know, it may) I have unript my breast 

Pki. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts, 
To lav a train for this contemned life, 
Which you may have for asking : To suspect 
Were base, where I deserve no ill. Love you, 
By all my hopes, I do above-my life : 

Vot. I. 



But how this passion should proceed from you 
So violently, would amaze a man, 
That would be jealous* 

Are. Another soul, into my body shot, 
Could not have filled me with more strength and 

spirit, 
Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time 
In seeking how I came thus : Tls the gods, 
The gods, that make me so ; and, sure, our love 
Will be the nobler, and the better blest, v / 
In that the secret justice of the gods 
Is mingled with it. Let us leave, •% . 
Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt us. 

PhL Twill be ill 
I should abide here long. 

Are* Tis true; and worse 
You should come often. How shall we devise 
To hold intelligence, that our true loves, 
On any new occasion, may agree 
What path is best to tread ? 

PhL I have a hoy, 
Sent by the gods, I hope, to this intent, 
Not yet seen in the court. Hunting the buck, 
I found him sitting by a fountain side, 
Of which he borrowed some to quench his thirst. 
And paid the nymph again as much in tears. 
A garland lay him by, made by himself, 
Of many several flowers, bred in the bay, 
Stuck in that mystic order, that the rareness 
Delighted me : But ever when he turned 
His tender eyes upon them, he would weep, 
As if he meant to make them grow again. 
Seeing such pretty helpless innocence 
Dwell in his face, I asked him all his story. 
He told me, that his parents gentle died, 
Leaving him to the mercy of the fields, 
Which gave him roots; and of the crystal springs, 
Which did not stop their courses ; and the sun, 
Which still, he thanked him, yielded him his light. 
Then took he up his garland, and did shew 
What every flower, as country people hold, 
Did signify ; and how all, ordered thus, 
Expressed his grief: And, to my thoughts, did 

read 
The prettiest lecture of his country art, 
That could be wished ; so that, methought, I could 
Have studied it. I gladly entertained him, 
Who was as glad to follow; and have got 
The trustiest, lovingest, and gentlest boy, 
That ever master kept ., Him will I send 
To wait on you, and bear our hidden love. 

Enter Lady. 

Are. Tls well ; no more. 

Lady. Madam, the prince is come to do his 
service. 

Are. What will you do, Phiiaster, with yourself? 

Phi. Why, that, which all the gods have ap- 
pointed out for me. 

Are. Dear, hide thyself. Bring in the prince. 

PkL Hide me from Pharamond ! 
When thunder speaks, which is the voice of Jove 

C 



34 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 4 



Though I do reverence* yet I hide me not; 
And shall a stranger prince have leave too brag 
Unto a foreign nation, that he made 
Bhilaster hide himself? 

Are. He cannot know it 

Phi. Though it should sleep for ever to the 
world, 
It is a simple sin to hide myself 
Which will for ever on my conscience lie. 

Are. Then, good Philaster, give him scope and 
way 
In what he says; for he is apt to speak 
What you are loth to hear : For my sake, da 

Phi. I will 

Enter Pharamond. 

Pha. My princely mistress, as true lovers ought, 
I come to kiss these fair hands; and to shewj 
In outward ceremonies, the dear love, 
Writ in my heart. 

Phi. If I shall have an answer no directlier, 
I am gone. 

Pha. To what would he have answer? 

Are. To his claim unto the kingdom. 

Pha. Sirrah, I forbare you before the king. 

Phi. Good sir, do so still : I would not talk 
with you. 

Pha. But now the time is fitter : Do but offer 
To make mention of your right to any kingdom, 
Though it be scarce habitable 

Phi Good sir, let me go. 

vord 



Pha. And by my swoi 

Phi. Peace, Pharamond ! If thou- 

Are. Leave us, Phila&ten 

Phi. I have done. 



Pha. Yottftr+gase: By Heaven* HI fe*fc yow 

back. 

Phi. You shall not need. 

Pha. What now? 

Phi. Know, Pharamond, . 
I loath to brawl with such a blast as thou, 
Who art nought but a valiant voice : But, if 
Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say 
" Thou wert,* and not lament it. 

Pha. Do you slight 
My greatness so, and in the chamber of the prin- 
cess? 

Phi. It is a place, to. which, I must confess, 
I owe a reverence : But were it the church, 
Ay, at the altar, there's no place so safe, 
Where thou dar'st injure me, but I dare kill thee. 
And for your greatness, know, sir, I can grasp 
You and your greatness thus, thus into nothing. 
Give not a word, not a word back ! FarewelL 

Exit P blotter. 

Pha. Tis an odd fellow, madam : We must 
stop 
His mouth with some office, when we are married. 
Are. You were best make him your controller. 
Phcu I think he would discharge it well. But, 
madam, 
I hope our hearts are knit ; and yet, so slow 
The ceremonies of state are, that 'twill be long 
Before our hands be so. If then you please, 
Being agreed in heart, let us not wait 
For dreaming form, but take a little stolen 
Delights, and so foretaste our joys to come. 

Are. If you dare speak such thoughts, 
, I must withdraw in honour. 

[Exeunt at different sides. 



ACT II. 



Enter pHiLASTfen and Bella rio. 

Phi. And thou shalt find her honourable, boy, 
Full of regard unto thy tender youth, 
For thine own modesty ; and, for my sake, 
Apter to give than thou wilt be to ask, 
Ay, or deserve. 

Bel. Sir, you did take me up, when I was no- 
thing; 
And only yet am something, by being yours. 
You trusted me unknown j and that, which you 

were apt 
To construe a simple innocence in me, 
Perhaps, might have been craft; the cunning of a 

boy 
Hardened in lies and theft : Yet ventured you 
To part my miseries and me ; for which 
i never can expect to serve a lady 
That bears more honour in her breast than you. 
Phi. But, boy,' it will prefer thee. Thou art 
young, 
And bear'st a childish overflowing love 
To them, that clap thy cheeks, and speak thee fair. 
But, when thy judgment comes to rule those pas- 
sions, 



Thou wilt remember best those careful friends} 
That placed thee in the noblest way of life* 
She is a princess I prefer thee to. 

Bel In that small time that I have seen the 
world* 
I never knew a man hasty to part 
With a servant, he thought trusty : - 1 remember, 
My father would prefer the boys he kept 
To greater men than he ; but did it not, 
Till they were' grown too saucy for himself. 

Phi. Why, gentle boy, I find no fault at all 
In thy behaviour. 

Bel. Sir, if I have made 
A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth : 
I shall be willing, if not apt, to learn ; 
Age and experience will adorn my mind 
With larger knowledge : And, if I have done 
A wilful fault, think me not past all hope 
For once. What master holds so strict a hang! 
Over his boy, that he will part with him 
Without one warning? Let me be corrected, 
To break my stubbornness, if it be so, 
Rather than turn me off; and I shall mend. 

Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, 



Flktchm.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



35 



That, treat me, I could ween to put with thee. 
Ahw ! I do not turn thee off; thou knowest 
It is my hnwnew, that doth call thee hence ; 
Aad, when thou art with her, thou dwell'st 



Hunk §0, and 'tis so. And, when time is full, 

TTutf thou hast well discharged this heavy trust, 

Laid on so weak a one, I will again 

With joy receive thee; as I live, I will. 

Naj 9 weep not, gentle boy ! Ik more than time 

Thou didst at te nd the princess. 

BeL I am gone. 
Bat since I am to part with you, my lord, 
And none knows, whether I shall live to do 
More service for you, take this little prayer; 
Heaven bless your loves, your fights, all your de- 



May sick men, if they have your wish, be well; 
And Heaven hate those, you curse, though I be 
one! [Exit 

PkL The love of boys unto their lords is strange % r 
I have read wonders of it : Yet this boy, 
For my sake (if a man may judge by looks 
And speech) would outrdo story/ I may see 
A daj to pay him for his loyalty. [Exit Pki. 

Enter Phakamond. 

Pkm. Why should these ladies stay so long? 
They must come this way: I know the queen 
employs diem not; for the reverend mother sent 
me word, they would be all for the garden. If 
they should all prove honest now, I were in a fair 
taking. Here's one bolted. 

Enter Galatea. 

GaL Your grace ! 

PJul Shall I not be a trouble? 

GaL Not to me, sir. 

Pka. Nay, nay, you are too quick. By this 



GaL You'll be forsworn, sir; 'tis but an old 
glove. If you will talk at distance, I am for you: 
And then, I think, I shall have sease enough to 
answer all the weighty apothegms your royal 
Kl iwd shall manage. 

PJka. Dear lady, can you love ? 

GaL Dear, prince! how dear? I ne'er cost 
you a coach yet, nor put you to the dear repent- 
ance of a banquet. Here's no scarlet, sir, to 
blush the sin out it was given for. This wire 
nune own hair covers; and this face has been so 
far from being dear to any, that it ne'er cost pen- 
ny painting : And, for the rest of my poor ward- 
itffce, such as you see, it leaves no hand behind 
k, to make the jealous mercer's wife curse our 
§uod doings. 

Pha. You mistake me, lady. 

OmL Lord, I do so : 'Would you, or I, could 
help it! 

Pka. Do ladies of this country use to give no 

ore aspect to men of my full being ? 

GaL Full being ! I understand you not, unless 



your grace means growing to fatness; and then 
your only remedy (upon my knowledge, prince} 
is, in a morning, a cup of neat white-wine, brewed 
with carduus; then fast till supper; about eight 
you may eat; use exercise, and keep a sparrow- 
hawk ; you can shoot in a tiller : But, of all, your 
grace must fly phlebotomy, fresh pork, conger, 
and clarified whey : They are all duUers of the 
vital spirits. 

Pka. Lady, you talk of nothing all this while. 

GaL 'Tis very true, sir ; I talk of you. 

Pka. This is a crafty wench; I like her wit 
well ; 'twill be rare to stir up a leaden appetite. 
She's a Danae, and must be courted in a shower 
of gold. Madam* look here : All these, and more 
than   - 

GaL What have you there, my lord ? Gold ! 
Now, as I live, 'tis fair gold ! You would have 
silver for it, to play with the pages : You could 
not have taken me in a worse time ; but, if you 
have present use, my lord, I'll send my man with 
silver, and keep your gold for you* 

Pka. Lady, lady ! 

GaL She's coming, sir, behind, will take white 
money. Yet, for all this I'll match you. 

[Exit Gal. behind the hangings. 

Pka. If there be but two such more in this 
kingdom, and near the court, we may even hang, 
up our harps. 

Enter Megra. 

Here's another : If she be of the same last, the 
devil shall pluck her on. Many fair morning?, 
lady. 

Meg. As many mornings bring as many days, 
Fair, sweet, and hopeful to your grace. 

Pka. She gives good words yet ; 
If your more serious business do not call you, 
Let me hold quarter with you ; we'll talk an hour 
Out quickly. 

Meg. What would your grace talk of? 

Pka. Of some such pretty subject as yourself, 
ril go no further than your eye, or lip ; 
There's theme enough for one man fur an age. 

Meg. Sir, they stand- right, and my lips arc yet 
even, 
Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, red enough, 
Or my glass wrongs me. 

Pka. Oh, they are two twinned cherries dyed 
in blushes, 
Which those fair suns above, with their bright 

beams, 
Reflect upon and ripen. Sweetest beauty, 
Bow down those branches, that the longing taste 
Of the faint looker-on may meet those blessings, 
And taste and live. 

Meg. Oh, delicate sweet prince ! 
She that hath snow enough about her heart, 
To take the wanton spring of ten such lines off, 
May be a nun without probation. Sir, 
You have, in such neat poetry* gathered a kiss, 
That if I had but five lines of that number, 



$6 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[BfcAUtfONt if 



Such pretty begging blanks, I should commend 
Your forehead, or your cheeks, and kiss you too. 

Pha. Do it in prose ; you cannot miss it, madam. 

Meg. I shall, I shall. 

Pha. By my life, too shall not 
But we lose time. Can you love ? 

Meg. Love you, my lord ? How would you 
have me love von ? Has your grace seen the court- 
star, Galatea? 

Pha. Out upon her ! She's as cold of her fa- 
vour as an apoplex : She sailed by but now. 

Meg. And how do you hold her wit, sir ? 

Pha. I hold her wit? The strength of all the 
guard cannot hold it, if they were tied to it ; she 
would blow them out of the kingdom. They talk 
of Jupiter; he is but a squib-cracker to her: Look 
well about you, and you may find a tongue-bolt 
But speak, sweet lady, shall I be freely welcome ? 

Meg. Whither? 

Pha. Make your own conditions, my purse 
shall seal them ; and what you dare imagine you 
can want, I'll furnish you withal : Give two hours 
to your thoughts every morning about it Come, 
I know you are bashful ; speak in my ear, will 
you be mine ? Keep this, and with it me : Soon 
I will visit you. 

Meg. My lord, my chamber's most unsafe ; but 
when tis night, I'll find some means to slip into 
your lodging ; till when 

Pha, Till when, this, and my heart go with thee ! 

[Exeunt several ways. 

Enter Galatea from behind the hangings. 

Gal Oh, thou pernicious petticoat-prince ! are 
these your virtues ? Well, it I do not lay a train 
to blow your sport up, I am no woman : And, 
lady Dowsabel, 111 fit you fort, [Exit . 

Enter Arethusa and a Lady. 

Are. Where's the boy ? 
lady. Within, madam. 
Are. Gave you him gold to buy him doaths ? 
Lady. I did. 

Are. And has he done it ? 
Lady. Yes, madam. 

Are. Tis a pretty sad talking boy, is it not ? 
Asked you his name t 
Lady. No, madam. 

Enter Galatea, 

Are. Oh; you are welcome. What, good news? 

Gal. As good as any one can tell your grace, 
That says, she has done tint, you would have 
wished. 

Are. Hast thoa discovered? 

Gal I have. Your prince, brave 
Pharamond, is disloyal. 

Are. With whom ? 

Gal Why, with the lady I suspected : 

Are. Run thyself into the presence; mingle 
there again 
With other lames ; leave the rest to me, 



If destiny (to whom we dare not say, 
* Why, thou did'st this !') have not decreed it so 
In lasting leaves (whose smallest characters 
Were never altered) yet, this match shall break. 
Where's the boy ? 
Lady. Here, madam. 

Enter Bellario. 

Are. Sir, you arc sad to change your service J 
is't not so ? 

Bel Madam, I have not changed ; I wait on you, 
To do him service. 

Are. Thou disclaimest in me. 
Tell me thy name. 

•Bel Bellario. 

Are. Thou canst sing, and play ? 

Bel. If grief will give me leave, madam, I can. 

Are. Alas ! what kind of grief can thy years- 
know? 
Hadst thou a curst master, when thou went'st to 

school? 
Thou art not capable of other grief. 
Thy brows and cheeks are smooth as waters be*, 
When no breath troubles them : Believe me, boy, 
Care seeks out wrinkled brows and hollow eyes, 
And builds himself caves, to abide in them. 
Come, sir, tell me truly, does your lord love me? 

Bel Love, madam ? I know not what it is. 

Are. Canst thou know grief, and never yet 
knew'st love ? 
Thou art deceived, boy. Does he speak of me, 
As if he wished me well ? 

Bel. If it be love, 
To forget all respect of his own friends, 
In thinking of your face ; if it be love, 
To sit cross armed, and sigh away the day, 
Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud 
And hastily as men in the streets do fire ; 
If it be love, to weep himself away, 
When he but hears of any lady dead, 
Or killed, because it might have been your chance; 
If, when he goes to rest (which will not be) 
Twixt every prayer he says, to name you once, 
As others drop a bead ; be to be in love, 
Then, madam, I dare swear he loves yon. 

Are. Oh, you're a cunning boy, and taught to li<V 
For your lord's credit ; but thou know'st a lie, 
That bears this sound, is welcomer to me ' 
Than any truth, that says, he loves me not. 
Lead the way, boy. Do you attend me too. 
'Tis thy lord s business hastes me thus. Away. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter Droxr, Cleremont, Thrasi line; Megra/ 

and Galatea. 

Dion. Come, ladies, shall we talk a round? As> 
men 
Do walk a mile, women should talk an hour, 
: After supper : Tis their exercise. 
Gal Tis late. 
Meg. 'Tis all 
My eyes will do to lead mc to my bed. 



Futchnl] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



37 



GaL I fear, tbey are so heavy, you'll scarce find 
He way to your lodging with them to night 

Enter Pharamokd, 

Tkra. The prince ! 

Pha. Not a-oed, ladies ? You're good sitters up. 
What think you of a pleasant dream, to last 
Till morning? 

Enter Arethusa and Bellario. 

Are. Tb well, my lord ; you're courting of ladies. 
Is*t not late, gentlemen? 

Cle. Yes, madam. 

Are. Wait you there. [Exit. 

Meg. She's jealous, as I live. Look you, my lord, 
The princess has a Ililas, an Adonis. 

Pka. His form is angel-like. 

Dion. Serves he the princess ? 

Thru. Yes. 

Dim. TU a sweet boy ; how brave she keeps him. 

Pka. ladies all, good rest; I mean to kill a 
buck 
To-morrow morning, ere you've done your dreams. 

[Exit. 

Meg. All happiness attend your grace ! Gen- 
tlemen, good rest 
Come, shall we to-bed ? 

GaL Yes; all good night. [Ex. GaL and Meg. 

Dion. May your dreams be true to you. 
What shall we do, gallants ? 'tis late. The king 
Is up still; see, he comes ; a guard along 
With him. 

Enter Kino, Arethusa, and guard. 

King. Look your intelligence be true. 

Are. Upon my life, it is : And I do hope, 
Yonr highness will not tie me to a man, 
That, in the heat of wooing, throws me off, 
And takes another. 

Dion. What should this mean? 

King. If it be true, 
That lady had much better have embraced 
Cureless diseases : Get you to your rest 

Exeunt Are. and Bel. 
You shall be righted. Gentlemen, draw near ; 
We shall employ vou. Is young Pharamond 
Come to his lodging? 

Dion. I saw him enter there. 

King. Haste, some of you, and cunningly dis- 
cover 
If Megra be in her lodging. 

Ck, Sir, 
She parted hence but now, with other ladies. 

King. If she be there, we shall not need to make 
A vam discovery of our suspicion. 
Ye gods, I see, that who unrighteously 
Holds wealth, or state, from others, shall be curst 
la that, which meaner men are blest withal. 
Ages to come shall know no male of him 
Left to inherit ; and his name shall be 
Blotted from earth. If he have any child, 
It shall be crossly matched; the gods themselves 
Shall sow wild strife betwixt her lord and her. 



Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sin 
I have committed. But how can I 
Look to be heard of gods, that must be just, 
Praying upon the ground I hold by wrong ? 

Enter Dion. 

Dion. Sir, I have asked, and her women swear 
she is within; i told them, I must speak with her; 
they laughed, and said, their lady lay speechless. 
I said, my business was important; they said, 
their lady was about it: I grew hot, and cried, 
my business was a matter, that concerned life 
and death ; they answered, so was steeping, at 
which their lady was. I urged again, she had 
scarce time to be so, since last I saw her ; they 
smiled again, and seemed to instruct me, that 
sleeping was nothing but lying down and winking. 
Answers more direct I could not get : In short, 
sir, I think she is not there. 

King. Tis then no time to dally. You of the 
guard, 
Wait at the back door of the prince's lodging, 
And see, that none pass thence, upon tout lives. 
Knock, gentlemen ! Knock loud ! Louder yet ! 
What, has their pleasure taken off their hearing ? 
m break your meditations. Knock again ! 
Nor yet? I do not think he sleeps, having this 
Lamm by him. Once more. Pharamond ! prince ( 

Pharamond above. 

Pha. What saucy groom knocks at this dead of 
night ? 
Where be our waiters ? By my vexed soul, 
He meets his death, that meets me, for this bold- 
ness. 
King. Prince, you wrong your thoughts ; we 
arc your friends.- 
Come down. 
.. Pha. The king ? 

King. The same, sir ; come down. 
We have cause of present counsel with you. 
Pha. If your grace please to use me, PH at- 
tend you 
To your chamber. [Pha, below. 

King. No, 'tis too late, prince ; I'll make bold 

with yours. 
Pha. I have some private reasons to myself, 
Make me unmannerly, and say, * you cannot.' 
Nay, press not forward, gentlemen ; he must 
Come through my life, that ooraes here. [Enters. 

King. Sir, be resolved. 
I must and will come. 

Pha, 111 not be dishonoured. 
He, that enters, enters upon his death. 
Sir, 'tis a sign you make no stranger of me, 
To bring these renegadoes to my chamber, 
At these unseasoned hours. 

King. Why do you 
Chafe yourself so? You are not wronged, nor 

shall be; 
Only 111 search your lodging, for some cause 
To ourself known : Enter, 1 say. 



& 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[BsAffttosr $ 



Pha. I say, no, 

[Meg. above. 

Meg. Let them enter, prince ; let them enter ; 
I am up, and ready ; I know their business : 
Tis the poor breaking of a lady's honour, 
They hunt so hotly alter ; let them enjoy it. 
Oh, my lord the king, this is not noble in you 
To make public the weakness of a woman. 



Enter Mecra. 

King. Now, My of honow, where's your ho- 
nour now? now? 
No man can fit yoar palate, Iwt the prince. 
Had you none to pull on with your courtesies, 
But he, that must be tn»e, and wrong my daughter? 
By aH the gods, all these, tend all the paces, 
And all the court, shall hoot thee through thecourt ; 

Meg. If you do mis, oh, king ! nay, if you dare 
do it, 
By all those gods you swore by, and as many 
More of mine own, I will have fellows, and 
Such feHpws in it, as shall make noble mirth. 
The prinfess, your dear daughter, shall stand by me 
On walh, and sang in ballads, any thing. 
Urge me no more ; 1 know tier, know the boy 
She keeps ; a handsome boy, about eighteen ; 
Come, sir, you jput me to a woman's madness, 
The glory of a fury ; and, if I do not, 
Do it to the height 

King. What boy is this she raves at? 

Meg. Alas! good-minded prince, you know not 
these things; • 



I am loth to reveal them. Keep das fault, 
As you would keep your health, from the hot air 
Of the corrupted people, or, by heaven, 
[ will not fall alone. What I have known, 
Shall be as public as a print; all tongues 
Shall speak it, as they do the language, they 
Are born in, as free and commonly ; 111 set it, 
like a prodigious star, for all to gaze at ; 
And so high and glowing, that other kingdoms, 
Far and foreign, - 

Shall read it there, nay travel with it, 'till they find 
No tongue to make it more, nor no more people; 
And then behold the fall of your fair princess. 
King. Has she a boy ? 

Cle. So please your grace, I have seen a boy wait 
On her ; a fair boy. 

King. Go, get you to your quarter : 
For this time 111 study to forget you. 

Meg. Do you studyto forget me, and FH study 
To forget you. [J3*. King, Mtg. and guard. 
CU. Why, here's a male spirit for Hercules. 
Dion. Sure she has a garrison of devils in her 
tongue, she uttereth such balls of wild-fire. She 
has so nettled the king, that all the doctors in the 
country will scarce cure him. That boy was a 
strange-found out antidote to cure her infection : 
That boy ; that princess* boy ; that brave, chaste, 
virtuous lady's boy ; and a fair boy, a well-spoken 
boy ! All these considered, can make nothing 
else. But there I leave you, gentlemen. 

Thru. Nay, we'll go wander with you. f Exeunt , 



ACT HI. 



Ente~ C^eremont, Dion, and Thrasiline. 

Cle. Nay,- doubtless, 'tis true. 

Dion. Ay ; and His the gods, 
That raised this punishment, to scourge the king 
With his own issue. Is it not a shame 
For us, that should write noble in the land, 
For lis, that should be freemen, to behold 
A man, that is the bravery of his age, 
Philaster, pressed down from his royal right, 
By this regardless king ? and only look 
And see the sceptre ready to be cast 
Into the hands of that lascivious lady, 
That lives in lust with a smooth boy, now to be 
Married to yon strange prince, who, but that people 
Please to let him be a prince, is born a slave 
In that, which should be his most noble part, 
His mind? 

Thr*. That man, that weald not stir with you 
To aid Philaster, let the gods forget, 
That such a creature walks upon the earth. 

Cle. Philaster is too backward in it himself. 
The gentry do await it, and the people, 
Against their nature, are all bent for him, 
And fcae a field of standing com, thatfe moved 
With a stiff gale, their heads how all owe way. 



Dion. The only cause, that draws Philaster buck 
From this attempt, is die fair princess' love, 
Which he admires, and we can now confute. 

Thra. Perhaps, hell not believe it 

Dion. Why, gentlemen, 
Tis without question so. 

Cle. Ay, 'tis past speech, 
She lives dishonestly : But how shall we, 
If he be curious, work upon his faith ? 

Thra. We are all satisfied within ourselves. 

Dion. Since it is true, and tends to his own good, 
I'll make this new report to be my knowledge : 
TO say I know it ; nay, I'll swear I saw it. 

Cle. It will be best. 

Thra. Twill move him. 

Enter Phi lasts*. 

Dion. Here he comes. 
Good-morrow to your honour ! We have spent 
Some time in seeking you. 

PkU. My worthy friends, 
You that can keep your memories to know 
Your friend in miseries, and cannot frown 
On men disgraced for virtue, a good day 
Attend you nil ! What service may I do 
Worthy your acceptation ? 



] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



$9 



Dim. My good lord, 
We come to urge that virtue, which we know 
lives in toot breast, forth ! Rise, and make ahead. 
The nobles and the people are all dulled 
With this usurping king; and not a man, 
Ihat ever heard the word, or knew such a thing 
As virtue, but will second your attempts. 

PkL How honourable is this love in you 
To me, that have deserved none? iCnow, my 



(You, mat were born to shame your poor PhMaster 
With too much courtesy) I could afford 
To melt myself in thanks : But my designs 
Are not yet ripe ; suffice it, that ere lonp 
I shaH employ your loves ; but yet the time 
Is short oi what I would. 

Diom* The time is fuller, sir, than you expect : 
That, whichherenfterwtil not, perhaps, be reached 
% violence, may now be caught. As for the king, 
You know the people have long hated him ; 

But now the princess, whom they loved 

PkL Wav, what of her? 
Ihon. Is loathed as much as he. 
PkL By what strange means ? 
Dion. She's known a whore. 
PkL Thoaliest. 

Dion. My lord 

PkL Thou best, [Ofert to draw and it held. 
And thou shalt fed it. I had thooajht, thy mind 
Had been of honour. Thus to rob a lady 
Of her good name, is an infectious sin, 
Notto be pardoned: Be it false as hell, 
Twill never be redeemed, if it be sown 
Amongst the people, fruitful to increase 
All evU they snail hear. Let me alone, 
That I may cut off falsehood, whilst it springs ! 
Set hills on bills betwixt me and the man 
That utters this, and I will scale them all, 
And from the utmost top fall on bis neck, 
Like thunder from a cloud. 

Dam. This is most strange :. 
Sure he does love her. 

Pfa*. I do love fair truth ; 
She is my mistress, and who injures her, 
Draws vengeance from ma. Sirs, let go my arms. 
Thro. Nay, good my lord, be patient. 
Ck. Sir, remember this is your honoured friend, 
last comes to do his service, and will shew 
Yon why be uttered this. 

Pit. I ask yon pardon, sir; 
My seal to truth made me unmannerly : 
Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you, 
Behind your back untruly, I had been 
As omen distempered and enraged as now. 
Dion. But this, my lord, is truth. 
PkL Oh, say not so ! good sir, forbear to sav so ! 
Tb then truth, that all womankind is false ! 
Urge it no more ; it is impossible. 
Why should you dunk the princess light? 
Dion. Why, she was taken at it. 
P&Tw false! Oh, Heaven! 'tis false lit can- 
not he! 



Can it? Speak, gentlemen; for love of truth, 

speak! 
Is't possible? Can women all be damned? 

Dion. Why, no, my lord. 

Ph. Why, then, it cannot be. 

Dion. And she was taken with her boy. 

Phi. What boy? 

Dion. A page, a boy, that serves her. 

Phi. Oh, good gods ! 
A little boy? 

Dion, Ay ; know you him, my lord ? 

Phi. Hell and sin know him !— Sir, you are 
deceived; 
You are abused, and so is she, and I. 

Dion. How you my lord ? 

Phi. Why, all the world's abused 
In an unjust report. 

Dion. Oh, noble sir, your virtues 
Cannot look into the subtle thoughts of woman. 
In short, my lord, I took them ; I myself. 

Phi. Now all the devils, thou didst ! Fly from 

my rage! 
'Would thou hadst taken devils engendering 

plagues, 
When thou didst take them ! Hide thee from 

my eyes ! 
Would thou hadst taken thunder on thy breast, 
'When thou didst take them; or been strucken 

dumb 
For ever; that this foul deed might have slept 
In silence! 

Thra, Have you known him so ill tempered ? 

Cle. Never before. 

PhL The winds, that are let loose 
From the four several corners of the enrtb, 
And spread themselves all over sea and land, 
Kiss not a chaste one. What friend bears a sword 
To run me through? 

Dion. Why, my lord, are you so moved at this ? 

PhL When any falls from virtue, I'm distract ; 
I have an interest in't 

Dion. But, good my lord, recall yourself, 
And think what's best to be done. 

Phi. I thank you ; I will do it. 
Please you to leave me : l f U consider of it. 
To-morrow I will find your lodging forth. 
And give you answer. 

Dion. All the gods direct you 
The readiest way ! 

Thra. He was extreme impatient. 

Cle. It was his virtue, and his noble mind. 

[Exeunt Dion, Ck. and Thr*. 

Phi. Oh, that I had a sea 
Within my breast, to quench the fire I feel ! 
More circumstances will but fan this fire. 
It more afflicts me now, to know by whom 
This deed is done, than simply that 'ds done : 
And he, that tells me this* is honourable, 
As far from lies as she is far from truth. 
Oh, that, like beasts, we could not grieve ourselves, 
With that we see not! Bulls and rams will fight 
To keep their female^ standing in their sight; 



40 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont k 



But take them from diem, and yon take at once 
Their spleens away ; and they will fall again 
Unto their pastures, growing fresh and fat ; 
And taste the water of the springs as sweet 
As 'twas before, finding no start in sleep. 
But miserable ma n See, see, you gods, 

Enter Bellario. 

He walks still ; and the face, you let him wear 
When he was innocent, is still the same, 
Not blasted ! Is this ju&tice? Do you mean 
To intrap mortality, that you allow 
Treason so smooth a brow? I cannot now 
Think he is guilty. 

Bel Health to you, my lord ! 
The princess doth commend her love, her life, 
And this, unto you. 

Phi. Oh, Bellario ! 
Now I perceive she loves me ; she does shew it 
In loving thee, my boy : She has made thee brave. 

Bel. My lord, she has attired me past my wish, 
Past my desert ; more fit for her attendant, 
Though far unfit for me, who do attend. 

Phi. Thou art grown courtly, boy.— -Oh, let 
all women, 
That love black deeds, learn to dissemble here, 
Here, by this paper ! She does write to me, 
As if her heart were mines of adamant 
To all the world besides ; but, unto me, 
A maidenrsnow, that melted with my looks. 
Tell me, my boy, how doth the princess use thee ? 
For I shall guess her love to me by that 

Bel. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were 
Something allied to her; or had preserved 
Her life three times by my fidelity. 
As mothers fond do use their only sons ; 
As I'd use one, that's left unto my trust, 
For whom my life should pay, if he met harm, 
8q she does use me. 

Phi Why, this is wondrous well : 
But what kind language does she feed thee with? 

Bel. Why, she does tell me, she will trust my 
youth 
With all her loving secrets ; and does call me 
Her pretty servant; bids me weep no more 
For leaving you ; she'll see my services 
. Regarded ; and such words of that soft strain, 
That I am nearer weeping, when she ends, 
Than ere she spake. 

Phi. This is much better still. 

Bel. Are you not ill, my lord? 

Phi. Ill ? No, Bellario. 

Bel. Methinks, your words 
Fall not from off your tongue so evenly, 
Nor is there hi your looks that quietness, 
That I was wont to see. 

Phi. Thou art deceived, boy : 
And she strokes thy head ? 

Bel. Yes. 

Phi. And she does clap thy cheeks? 

Bel She does, my lord. 

JP4f* And >he dots ti*s th e £> b°yl ha ! 



Bel How, my lord? 

PhL She kisses thee ? 

Bel. Not so, my lord. 

Phi. Come, come, I know she does. 

Bel. No, by my life. 

Phi. Why then she does not love me. Come, 
she does. 
I bad her do it. I charged her, by all charms 
Of love between us, by the hope of peace 
We should enjoy, to yield thee all delights. 
Tell me, gentle boy, 

Is she not paralleless? Is not her breath 
Sweet as Arabian winds, when fruits are ripe ? 
Is she not all a lasting mine of joy ? 

Bel Ay, now I see why my disturbed thoughts 
Were so perplexed : When first I went to her, 
My heart held augury. You are abused ; 
Some villain has abused you ! I do see 
Whereto you tend : Fall rocks upon his head, 
That put this to you ! Tis some subtle train, 
To bring that noble frame of yours to nought. 

Phi. Thou tbink'st,I will be angry with thee. 
Come 
Thou shalt know all my drift : I hate her more 
Than I love happiness, and placed thee there, 
To pry with narrow eyes into her deeds. 
Hast thou discovered? Is she fallen to lust, 
As I would wish her? Speak some comfort tome. 

Bel My lord, you did mistake the boy you sent: 
Had she a sin that way, hid from the world, 
Beyond the name of lust, I would not aid 
Her base desires ; but what I came to know 
As servant to her, I would not reveal, 
To make my life last ages. 

Phi. Oh, my heart ! 
This is a salve worse than the main disease. 
Tell me thy thoughts ; for I will know the least 
That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart 
To know it : I will see thy thoughts as plain 
As I do now thy face. 

Bel. Why, so you do. 
She is (for ought I know) by all the gods, 
As chaste as ice : But were she foul as hell, 
And I did know it thus, the breath of kings, 
The points of swords, tortures, nor bulls of brass, 
Should draw it from me. 

Phi. Then it is no time 
To dally with thee ; I will take thy life, 
For I do hate thee : could curse thee now. 

Bel. If you do hate, you could not curse me 
worse: 
The gods have not a punishment in store 
Greater for me, than is your hate. 

Phi. Fie, fie, so young and so dissembling ! 
Tell me when and where thou didst enjoy her, 
Or let plagues fall on me, if I destroy thee not ! 

Bel Heaven knows I never did ; and when I lie 
To save my life, may I live long and loathed. 
Hew me asunder, and whilst I can think, 
I'll love those pieces you have cut away, 
Better than those that grow; and kiss those limbs. 
Because you made them so, 



FuToni. 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



41 



Pki Rarest thou not death ? 
Cm bop contemn that ? 

J& Oh, what boy is he 
Can be content to live to be a man, 
Hat sees the best of men thus passionate, 
lias without reason? 

Pit. Oh, bat thou dost not know 
What *tu to die. 

BeL Yes, I do know, my lord : 
Ikies* than to be born ; a lasting sleep, 
A omet resting from all jealousy ; 
A rang we all pursue. I know besides, 
It is bat giving over of a game, that must be lost 

PkL But there arepains, false boy, 
For perjured souls: Think but on these, and then 
Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all. 

BeL May they fall all upon me whilst I live, 
If I be perjured, or have ever thought 
Of that, you charge me with. If I be false, 
Send me to suffer in those punishments, 
You speak of; kill me. 

PiL Ob, what should I do ? 
Why, who can bat believe him ? He docs swear 
So earnestly, that if it were not true, 
The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario ! 
Hit protestations are so deep, and thou 
Do* look so truly, when thou utterest them, 
That though I know them false, as were my hopes, 
I cannot urge thee further. But, thou wert 
To blame to injure me, for I must love 
Thy honest looks, and take no revenge upon 
Thy tender youth : A love from me to thee 
Is firm, whate'er thou dost It troubles me, 
That I have called the blood out of thy cheeks, 
That did so well become thee. But, good boy, 
Let me not see thee more : Something is done 
That will distract me, that will make me mad, 
If I behold thee. If thou tenderest me, 
Let me not see thee. 

BeL I will fly as far 
As there is morning, ere I give distaste 
To that most honoured mind. But through these 

tears, 
Shed at my hopeless parting, I can see 

A world of treason practised upon you, 

And her, and me. Farewell, tor evermore ! 

If you shall hear that sorrow struck me dead, 

And after hod me loyal, let there be 

A tear shed from you in my memory, 

And I shall rest at peace. [Exit. 

PkL Blessing be with thee, 

Whatever thou deservest ! Oh, where shall I 

Go bathe this body ? Nature, too unkind, 

That made nomedxane for atrouUedmind ! [Exit. 

"Enter Arethusa. 

Art. I marvel my hoy comes not back again : 
B«t that I know my love will question him 
Orer and over, how I slept, walked, talked ; 
How I remembered him, when his dear name 
Was last spoke, and how, when I sighed, wept, 
sung, 



And ten thousand such; I should be angry at 
his stay. 

Enter Kino. 

King, What, at your meditations? Who at- 
tends you ? 

Art. None but my single self. I need no guard. 
I do no wrong, nor fear none. 

King. Tell me, have you not a boy r 

Are. Yes, sir. 

King. What kind of boy ? 

Are. A page, a waiting-boy. 

King. A handsome boy? 

Are. I think he be not ugly : 
Well qualified, and dutiful, I know him ; 
I took him not for beauty. 

King. He speaks, and sings and plays? 

Are. Yes, sup. 

King. About eighteen ? 

Are. I never asked his age. 

King. Is he full of service ? 

Are. By your pardon, why do you ask ? 

King. Put him away. 

Are. Sir! 

King. Put him away ! he has done you that 
good service, 
Shames me to speak of. 

Are. Good sir, let me understand you. 

King. If you fear me, 
Shew it in duty : Put away that boy. 

Are. Let me have reason for it, sir, and then 
Your will is my command. 

King. Do not you blush to ask it? Cast him off, 
Or I shall do the same to you. You're one 
Shame with me, and so near unto myself, 
That, by my life, I dare not tell myself, 
What you, myself, have done. 

Are. What have I done, my lord ? 

King. Tis a new language, that all love to learn : 
The common people speak it well already ; 
They need no grammar. Understand me well ; 
There be foul whispers stirring. Cast him off, 
And suddenly : Do it ! Farewell. * [Exit King. 

Are. Where may a maiden live securely free, 
Keeping her honour safe ? Not with the living ; 
They feed upon opinions, errors, dreams, 
And make them truths ; they draw a nourishment 
Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces ; 
And, when they see a virtue fortified 
Strongly above the battery of their tongues, 
Oh, how they cast to sink it; and, defeated, 
(Soul-sick with poison) strike the monuments, 
Where noble names lie sleeping ; till they sweat, 
And the cold marble melt. 

Enter Phi last er. 

Phi. Peace to your fairest thoughts, dearest 

mistress. 
Are. Oh, my dearest servant, I have a war 

within me. 
Phi. He must be more than man, that makes 

these crystals 



48 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont £ 



Ron into rivers. Sweetest fair, the cause? 
And, as I am your slave, tied to your goodness, 
Your creature, made again from what I was, 
And newly spirited, 111 right your honour. 

Art. Oh, my best love, that boy ! 

Phi. What boy? 

Art* Hie pretty boy you give me— ' 

Phi. What of him? 

Are. Must be no more mine. 

Phi Why? 

Are. They are jealous of him. 

Phi. Jealous! who? 

Are. The king. 

Phi. Oh, my fortune ! 
Then 'tis no idle jealousy. Let him go. 

Are. Oh, cruel ! are you hardhearted too? 
Who shall now tell you, how much I loved you? 
Who shall swear it to you, and weep the tears I 

send? 
Who shall now bring you letters, rings, brace- 
lets? 
Lose his health in service ? Wake tedious nights 
In stories of your praise ? Who shall sing 
Your crying elegies ? And strike a sad soul 
lato senseless pictures, and make them mourn ? 
Who shall take up his lute, and touch it, till 
He crown a silent sleep upon my eye-lid, 
Making me dream, and cry, * Oh, my dear, dear 
• Philaster !' 

Phi. Oh, my heart! 
Would he had broken thee, that made thee know 
This lady was not loyal. Mistress, forget 
The boy: 111 get tbee a far better. 

Art. Oh, never, never such a boy again, as my 
Bellario! 

Phi. Tis but your fond affection. 

Are. With thee, my boy, farewell for ever 
All secrecy in servants ! Farewell faith ! 
And all desire to do well for itself ! 
Let all, that shall succeed thee for thy wrongs, 
Sell and betray chaste love ! 

Phi. And all this passion for a boy ? 

Are. He was your ooy, and you put him tome, 
And the loss of such must have a mourning for. 

Phi Oh, thou forgetful woman! 

Are. How, my lord ? 

Phi. False Arethusa ! 
Hast thou a medicine to restore my wits, 
When I have lost them? If not, leave to talk, 
And do thus. 

Are. Do what, sir? Would you sleep? 

Phi. For ever, Arethusa, Oh, ye gods, 
Give me a worthy patience ! Have I stood 
Naked, alone, the shock of numy fortunes? 
Have I seen mischiefs numberless, and mighty, 
Grow like a sea upon me ? Have I taken 
Danger as stern as death into my bosom, 
And laughed upon it, made it but a mirth, 
And Aunt; it by ? Do I live now hke him, 
Under this tyrant king, that languishing 
Hears his sad bell, and sees his mourners ? Do I 
Bear all this bravely, and must sink at length 



Under a woman's falsehood ? Oh, that boy, 
That cursed boy ! 

Are. Nay, then I am betrayed : 
I feel the plot cast for my overthrow. 
Oh, I am wretched ! 

Phi. Now you may take that little right I 
To this poor kingdom : Give it to your joy; 
For I have no joy in it Some far place, 
Where never womankind durst set ner foot, 
For bursting win her poisons must I seek, 
And live to curse you : 

There dig a cave, and preach to birds and beasts, 
What woman is, and help to save them from yon: 
How Heaven is in your eyes, but, in your hearts. 
More hell than hell has : How your tongues, like 

scorpions, 
Both heal and poison : How your thoughts are 

woven 
With thousand changes in one subtle web, 
And sworn so by you : How mat foolish man, 
That reads the story of a woman's face, 
And dies believing it, is lost for ever : 
How all the good you have is but a shadow, 
In the morning with you, and at night behind you, 
Past and forgotten : How your vows are frosts. 
Fast for a night, and with the nest sun gone : 
How you are, being taken altogether, 
A mere confusion, and so dead a chaos, 
That love cannot distinguish. Hiese sad tests. 
Till my last hour, I am bound to utter of you. 
So, farewell all my woe, all my delight ! 

[BntPkL 

Are. Be merciful, ye gods, and strike me dead ! 
What way have I deserved mis ? Make my breast 
Transparent as pure crystal, that the world, 
Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought 
My heart holds. Where shall a woman torn her 

eyes, 
To find out constancy ? Save me ! how black 

Enter Bellario. 

And guiltily, methinks, that boy looks now ! 

Oh, thou dissembler, that before thou spak's^ 

Wert in thy cradle false, sent to make lies, 

And betray innocents! Thy lord and thou 

May glory in the ashes of a maid 

Fooled by her passion ; but the conquest hi 

Nothing so great as wicked. Fly away I 

Let my command force thee to that, which shame 

Would do without it If thou understood'st 

The loathed office thou hast undergone, 

Why, thou wouldst hide thee under heaps of bills. 

Lest men should dig and find thee. 

Bit Oh, what god, 
Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease 
Into the noblest minds? Madam, this grief 
You add unto me is no more than drops 
To seas, for which thev are not seen to swell : 
My lord hath struck his auger through ray heary 
And led out all the hope of future joys. 
You need not bid me fly ; I came to peat, 
To take my latest leave. Farewell for ever! 



Flktchb*.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



43 



I dent a* m away, in honesty, 

Tram aaoh a lady, nke m boy, that stole, 

Or aiade some grievous fault The power of 

god 
Aaast vou ia yoar sufieriogs ! Hasty time 
Reveal the truth to your abused lord 
Aad mine, that he may know your worth ; whilst I 
Go seek oat some forg otte n place to die ! 

[Exit Bel 
Arc Peace guide thee! Thou hast overthrown 



Yet, if I had another Troy to lose, 
Thou, or ■aorhffr villain,* with thy looks, 



Might talc me oat of it, and tend me naked, 
My hair dtthevel'd, through the fiery streets. 

Enter a Lady. 

Lady. Madam, the king would hunt, and calls 
for you 
With earnestness. 

Art. I am in tune to hunt ! 
Diana, if thou canst rage with a maid 
As with a man, let me discover thee 
Bathing, and turn me to a fearful hind, 
That I may die pursued by cruel hounds, 
And have my story written m my wounds. [Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 



Enter Kisc, Pharamond, Arethusa, Gala- 
tea, Meora, Dion, Clebemont,Thrasilinb, 
aad attendants. 

Kmg. What, are the hounds before, and all 
the woodmen; 
Oar horses ready, and our bows bent ? 
Diem. All, sir. 
King. You're cloudy, sir: Come, we have for- 



Tour venial trespass ; let not that sit heavy 
Upon your spirit ; none dare utter it 
Is yoar boy turned away? 

Are. You did command, sir, and I obeyed you. 

King. 1b well done. To horse, to horse ! we 
lose the morning, gentlemen. Exeunt. 

Enter two Woodmen. 

1 Wood. What, have you lodged the deer ? 

2 Wood. Yes, they are ready for the bow. 
1 Wood. Who shoots? 

* Wood. The princess. 
1 Wood. No, she'll hunt 
S Wood. Shell take a stand, I say. 
1 Wood. Who else? 

t Wood. Why, the young stranger prince. 
1 Wood. He shall shoot jn a stone now for me. 
I never loved his beyond-sea-ship, since he for- 
sook the say, for paying ten shillings : He was 
there at the fall or a deer, and would needs (out 
of his mightiness) give ten groats for the dowcets ; , 
many, the steward would have die velvet-head in- 
to the bargain, to tuft his hat withal. Who shoots 
else? 
* Wood. The lady Galatea. 
1 Wood. She's liberal, and, by my bow, they 
sty, she's honest ; and whether that be a fault, I 
have nothing to do. There's all ? 
3 Wood. No, one more; Megra. 
1 Wood. That's a inker, ffeith, boy. She rides 
frefl, and she pays well. Hark ! let's go. [Exeunt. 

Enter PnrLAaTEn. 

Pit. Oh, that I had been nourished in these 
woods, 
Wan milk of goats, and acorns, and not known 
The right of crowns, nor the dissembling trains 



Of women's looks ; but digged myself a cave, 
Where I, my fire, my cattle, and my bed, 
Might have been shut together in one shed ; 
And then had taken me some mountain girl, 
Beaten with winds, chaste as the hardened rocks. 
Whereon she dwells; that might have strewed 

my bed 
With leayes, and reeds, and with the skins of 

beasts, 
Our neighbours. This had been a life 
Free from vexation. 

Enter Bella* ro. 

Bel. Oh, wicked men ! 
An innocent may walk safe among beasts ; 
Nothing assaults me here. See, my grieved 

lord 
Sits as his soul were searching out a way 
To leave his body. Pardon me, that mast 




That I can pity ! 

Bel Oh, my noble lord ! 
View my strange fortune ; and bestow on me* 
According to your bounty (if my service 
Can merit nothing) so much as may serve 
To keep that little piece I hold of life 
From cold and hunger. 

Phi Is it thou ? Begone ! 
Go, sell those mbbeseeming cloaths thou wearest, 
And feed thyself with them. 

Bel Alas ! my lord, I can get nothing for 
them: 
The silly country people think 'tis treason 
To touch such gay things. 

Phi. Now, by my life, this is 
Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight 
Thou'rt fallen again to thy dissembling trade ; 
How shouldst thou think to cozen me again ? 
Remains mere yet a plague untried for me ? 
Even so thou wept'st, and LookVTst, and spok'st, 

when first 
I took thee up -. Curse on the time ! If thy 
Commanding tears can work on any othec, 
Use thy art; HI not betray it. Which way 
Wilt thou take, that I may shun thee ? 



44 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont fy 



For thine eyes are poison to mine ; and I 
Am loth to grow in rage. This way, or that way ? 
Bel. Any will serve. But I will chuse to have 
That path in chace, that leads unto my grave. 

[Exeunt Phi. and Bet severalty. 

Enter Dion and the Woodmen. 

Dion. This is the strangest sudden chance ! 
You, Woodman I 

1 Wood. My lord Dion ! 

Dion. Saw you a lady come this way, on a sa- 
ble horse studded with stars of white ? 

2 Wood. Was she not young and tall ? 

Dion. Yes. Rode she to the wood or to the 
plain? ' 

2 Wood. Faith, my lord, we saw none. 

[Exeunt Wood. 

Enter Cleremokt. 

Dion. Pox of your questions then ! What, is 
she found r 

Cle. Nor will be, I think. 

Dion* Let him seek his daughter himself. 

Cle. There's already a thousand fatherless tales 
amongst us : Some say, her horse run away with 
her : some, a wolf pursued her ; others, it was a 
plot to kill her, ana that armed men were seen 
in the wood : But, questionless, she rode away 
willingly. 

 

Enter King and Thrasiline. 

King. Where is she ? 

Cle. Sir, I cannot tell. 

King. How is that? Answer me so again ? 

Cle. Sir, shall I lie ? 

King. Yes, lie and damn, rather than tell me 
that 
I say again, where is she ? Mutter not ! 
Sir, speak you ; where is she ? 

Dion. Sir, I do not know. 

King. Speak that again so boldly, and by 
Heaven, 
It is thy last You, fellows, answer roe ; 
Where is she ? Mark me, all ; I am your king; 
I wish to see my daughter ; shew her me ; 
I do command you au, as you are subjects, 
To shew her me ! What, am I not your king ? 
If ' ay,* then am I not to be obeyed ? 

Dum. Yes, if you command things possible and 
honest 

King. Things possible and honest ? Hear me, 
thou, 
Thou traitor ! that dar*st confine thy king to things 
Possible and honest ; shew her me, 
0r, let me perish, if I cover not 
All Sicily with blood ! 

Dion. Indeed I cannot, unless you tell me 
where she is. 

King. Yon have betrayed me; have let me Jose 
The jewel of my life : (So, bring her me. 
And set her here, before me : Tis die king 
Will have it so ; whose breath can still the winds, 



Uncloud the sun, charm down the swelling sea, 
And stop the floods of Heaven. Speak, can it not? 

Dion. No. 

King. No ! cannot the breath of kings do this? 

Dion. No ; nor smell sweet itself, if once the 
lungs 
Be but corrupted. 

King. Is it so ? Take heed ! 

Dion. Sir, take you heed, how you dare the 
powers, 
That must be iust 

King. Alas ! what are we kings? 
Why do you, gods, place us above the rest, 
To be served, nattered, and adored, till we 
Believe we hold within our hands your thunder ; 
And, when we come to try the power we have, 
There's not a leaf shakes at our threatenings. 
I have sinned, 'tis true, and here stand to be pu- 
nished; 
Yet would not thus be punished. Let me chuse 
My way, and lay it on. 

Dion. He articles with the gods : 'Would some- 
body would draw bonds, for the performance of 
covenants betwixt them ! 

Enter Pharamond, Galatea, and Megra. 

King. What, is she found? 

Pka. No ; we have ta'en her horse : 
He galloped empty by. There's some treason. 
You, Galatea, rode with her into the wood ! 
Why left you her ? 

GaL She did command me. 

King. Command ! you should not 

Gal. Twould ill become my fortunes and my 
birth, 
To disobey the daughter of my king. 

King. You're all cunning to obey us, for our 
hurt; 
But I will have her. 

Pha. If I have her not, 
By this hand, there shall be no more Sicily. 

Dion. What, will he carry it to Spain in his 
pocket ? 

Pha. I will not leave one man alive, but the king, 
A cook, and a tailor. 

Dion. Yet you may do well 
To spare your lady-bedfellow. 

King. I see the injuries I have done must be 
revenged. 

Dion. Sir, this is not the way to find her out 

King. Run all ; disperse yourselves ! The man, 
that finds her, 
Or (if she be killed), the traitor, I'll make him 
great 

Dion. I know some would give five thousand 
pounds to find her. 

Pha. Come, let us seek. 

King. Each man a several way ; here I myself. 

Dion. Come, gentlemen, we here. [.Ex. outfits. 
Enter Arethusa. 

Are. Where am I now? Feet, find me out a, way, 
Without the counsel of my troubled head : 



I 

} 



Flktchul] 



BfclTISH drama; 



45 



ni folio* you, boldly, about these woods, 

Cer mountains, thorough brambles, pits, and 

floods. 
Heaven, I hope, will ease me. I am sick. 

Enter Bella rio. 

BeL Yonder'smy lady: Heaven knows I want 

nothing, 
Because I do not wish to live ; yet I 
Will try her charity. Oh, hear, you that have 

plenty! 
From mat flowing store, drop some on dry ground. 

See, 
The lively red is gone to guard her heart ! 
I fear she faints. Madam, look up ! She breathes 

not. 
Open once more those rosy twins, and send 
Unto my lord your latest farewell. Oh, she stirs : 
How b it, madam ? Speak comfort 

Are. lis not gently done, 
To pot me in a miserable life, 
Ana hold me there : I prithee, let me go ; 
I shall do best without thee ; I am well. 

Enter Phi last eh. 

PkL I am to blame to be so much in rase : 
W tell her coolly, when and where I heard 
This killing truth. I will be temperate 
In speaking, and as just in hearing. 
Oh, monstrous ! Tempt me not, ye gods ! good 

gods, 
Tempt not a frail man ! What's he, that has a 

heart, 
But he must ease it here ? 

BeL My lord, help the princess. 

Are. I am well : Forbear. 

PkL Let me love lightning, let me be embraced 
And kissed by scorpions, or adore the eyes 
Of basilisks, rather than trust the tongues 
Of hell-bred women ! Some good gods look down, 
And shrink these veins up ; stick me here a stone, 
lasting to ages, in the memory 
Of this damned act ! Hear me, you wicked ones ! 
You have put hills of fire into this breast, 
Not to be quenched with tears ; for which may 

guilt 
art on your bosoms ! at your meals, and beds, 
Despair await you ! What, before my face ? 
Poison of asps between your lips ! Diseases 
Be tout best issues ! Nature make a curse, 
And throw it on you ! 

Are, Dear Philaster, leave 
To be enraged, and hear me. 

Phi. I have done ; 
Forgive my passion. Not the calmed sea, 
When /fcolus locks up his windy brood. 
Is less disturbed than I : I'll make you know it 
Dear Arethusa, do but take this sword, 
And search how temperate a heart I have ; 
Then you, and this your boy, may live and reign 
In sm, without controul. Wilt thou, Bellario ? 
I prithee, kill me : Thou art poor, and may'st 



Nourish ambitious thoughts, when I am dead; 
This way were freer. Am I raging now ? 
If I were mad, I should desire to live. 
Sirs, feel my pulse : Whether have you known 
A man in a more equal tune to die r 

BeL Alas, my lord, your pulse keeps madman's 
time, 
So does your tongue. 

Phi You will not kill me, then ? 

Are. Kill you ? 

BeL Not for a world. 

Phi. I blame not thee, 
Bellario : Thou hast done but that, which gods 
Would have transformed themselves to do. Bo 

gone; 

Leave me without reply ; this is the last 
Of all our meeting. Kill me with this sword ; 
Be wise, or worse will follow : We are two 
Earth cannot bear at once. Resolve to do, oc 
suffer. 

Are. If my fortune be so good to let me rail 
Upon thy hand, I shall have peace in death. 
Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders, 
No jealousy, in the other world ; no ill there ? 

Phi. No. 

Are. Shew me then the way. 

Phi. Then guide 
My feeble hand, you, that have power to do it, 
For I must perform a piece of j ustice. If your youth 
Have any way offended heaven, let prayers 
Short and effectual reconcile you to it 

Are. I am prepared. 

Enter a country fetiow. 

Coun. Til see the king, if he be in the forest ; 
I have hunted him these two hours ; if I should 
come home and not see him, my sisters would 
laugh at me. I can sec nothing but people better 
horsed than myself, that out-ride me ; I can hear 
nothing but shouting. These kings had need of 
good brains; this whooping is able to put a mean 
man out of his wits. There's a courtier with 
his sword drawn ; by this hand, upon a woman, 
I think. 

Phi. Are you at peace ? 

Are. With heaven and earth. 

Phi. May they divide thy soul and body ! 

Coun. Hold, dastard, strike a woman ! ThouYt 
a craven, I warrant thee : Thou would'st be loth 
to play half a dozen of venies at wasters with a 
good fellow for a broken head. 

Phi. Leave us, good friend. 

Are. What ill-bred man art thou, to intrude 
thyself 
Upon our private sports, our recreations ? 

Coun. God uds, I understand you not ; but, I 
know, the rogue has hurt you. 

Phi. Pursue thy own affairs : It will be ill 
To multiply blood upon my head ; 
Which thou wilt force me to. 

Coun. I know not your rhetorick ; but I can 
lay it on, if you touch the woman. {They fight. 



46 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Bb AD MONT  



PAL Slave, take what thou deserves*. 
Are. Heavens guard my lord ! 
Conn. Oh, do you breathe? 

Phi I hear the tread of people. I am hurt : 
The gods take part against me : Could this boor 
Have held me thus else ? I must shift for life, 
Though I do loath it I would find a course 
To lose it rather by my will, than force. [Exit Phi. 

Court. I cannot follow the rogue. 

Enter Pharamond, Dion, Cleremont, Thra- 
silive, and Woodmen. 

Pha. What art thou ? 

Coun. Almost killed I am for a foolish woman; 
a knave has hurt her. 

Pha. The princess, gentlemen! Where's the 
wound, madam ? 
Is it dangerous? 

Are. He has not hurt mc. 

Coun. I'faith, she lies ; he has hurt her in the 
breast; look else. 

Pha. Oh, sacred spring of innocent blood ! 

Dion, lis above wonder ! Who should dare this ? 

Are. I felt it not. 

Pha. Speak, villain, who has hurt the princess? 

Coun. Is it the princess ? 

Dion. Av. 

Coun. Then I have seen something yet 

Pha. But who has hurt her ? 

Coun. I told you, a rogue ; I ne'er saw him 
before, I. 

Pha. Madam, who did it ? 

Are. Some dishonest wretch ; 
Alas ! I know him not, and do forgive him. 

Coun. He's hurt too; he cannot go far; I made 
my father's old fox fly about his ears. 

Pha. How will you have me kill him ? 

Are. Not at all ; 
Tis some distracted fellow. 

-Pha. By this hand, 
III leave ne'er a piece of him bigger than a nut, 
And bring him all in my hat 

Are. Nay, good sir, 
If you do take him, bring him quick to me, 
And I will study for a punishment, 
Great as his fault 

Pha, I will. 

Are. But swear. 

Pha. By all my love, I will. Woodmen, con- 
duct the princess to the king and bear that 
wounded fellow to dressing. Come, gentlemen, 
we'll follow the chase close. 
[Exeunt Are. Pha. Dion, Cle. Thro, and 1 Wood- 
man. 

Coun. I pray you, friend, let me see the king. 

2 Wood. That you shall, and receive thanks. 

Coun. If I get clear with this, HI go to see no 
more gay sights. [Exeunt. 

'Enter Bellario. 

Bel A heaviness near death sits oa my brow, 
And I must sleep. Bear me, thou gentle bank, 



For ever, if thou wilt You sweet ones all, 
Let me unworthy press you : I could wish, 
I rather were a corse strewed o'er with you, 
Than quick above you. Dulness shuts mine eyes, 
And I am giddy/ Oh, that I could take 
So sound a sleep, that I might never wake ! 

Enter Phil aster. 

Phi I have done ill; my conscience calls me 
false, 
To strike at her, that would not strike at me. 
When I did fight, methought I heard her pray 
The gods to guard me. one may be abused, 
And I a loathed villain : If she be, 
She will conceal, who hurt her. He has wounds, 
And cannot follow ; neither knows he me. 
Who's this ? Bellario sleeping ? If thou be'st 
Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleep 
Should be so souna ; and mine, whom thou hast 
wronged, \Cry mitkin. 

So broken. Hark ! I am pursued. Ye gods, 
I'll take this offered means of my escape : 
Thev have no mark to know me, but my wounds, 
If she be true ; if false, let mischief light 
On all the world at once! Sword, print my 

wounds 
Upon this sleeping boy ! I have none, I dunk. 
Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee. 

[Wounds Aim. 
Bel. Oh! Death, I hope, is come: Blest be 
that hand ! 
It meant me well. Again, for pity's sake ! 

Phi. I have caught myself: [Phi. falls. 

The loss of blood hath stayed my fligjit Here,- 

here, ' 
Is he that struck thee : Take thy full revenge ; 
Use me, as I did mean thee, worse than death : 
I'll teach thee to revenge. This luckless hand 
Wounded the princess; tell my followers, 
Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me, 
And I will second thee : Get a reward. 
Bel Fly, fly, my lord, and save yourself. 
Phi. How's this ? 
Wouldst thou I should be safe ? 

BcL Else were it vain 
For me to live. These little wounds I have 
Have not bled much; reach me that noble hand 1 ; 
Til help to cover you. 

Phi. Art thou true to me ? 
Bel. Or let me perish loathed ! Come, my good 
lord, 
Creep in among those bushes : Who does know, 
But that the gods may save your much-loved 
breath? 
Phi. Then I shall die for grief, if not for this, 
That I have wounded thee. What wilt thou do f 
BcL Shift for myself well. Peace ! I hear these 

come. 
Within* Follow, follow, follow ! that way they 

went 
Bel With my own wounds FU bloody my 
sword. 

3 



FincHS**] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



47 



I need not counterfeit to fall; Heaven knows 
That I can stand no longer. 

Eater Fhaeamoxb, Dion, Cleeemomt, and 
Thrasiline. 

Pin. To this place we have tracked him by his 
blood. 

Ck. Yonder, my lord, creeps one away. 

Dior. Stay, sir! what are you ? 

BeL A wretched creature, wounded in these 
woods 
By beasts : Relieve me, if your names be men, 
Or I diaU perish. 

Dim. Tnis is he, my lord, 
Uboo my soul, that hurt her : Tis the boy, 
Tftat wicked boy, that served her. 

Pka. Ob, thou damned in thy creation \ 
What cause coold'st thou shape to hurt the prin- 
ce*? 

BeL Then I am betrayed. 

Diem. Betrayed ! no, apprehended. 

BeL I confess, 
Urge it no more, that, big with evil thoughts, 
I set upon her, and did take my aim, 
Her death. For charity, let fall at once 
The punishment you mean, and do not load 
Tab wearv flesh with torturer 

Pka. I will know 
Who hired thee to this deed* 

BeL Mine own revenge* 

Pka. Revenge ! for what? 

BtL It pleased her to receive 
He as her page, and, when my fortunes ebbed, 
That men strid o'er them careless, she did shower 
Her welcome graces on me, and did swell 
My fortunes, 'till they overflowed their banks, 
Threatening the men that crossed them ; when* as 

swiii 
As storms arise at sea, she turned her eyes 
To horning suns upon me, and did dry 
The streams she had bestowed; leaving me worse, 
And more contemned, than other little brooks, 
Because I had been great. In short, I knew 
I could not live, and therefore did desire 
To die revenged. 

Pho. If tortures can be found, 
Long as thy natural life, resolve to feel 
The utmost rigour. [PhUosier creeps cut of a bu$h. 

Ck. Help to lead him hence. 

PkL Turn back, ye ravishers of innocence ! 
ve the price of that you bear away 

Pka. "Who's that? 

Dion. Tis the lord Philaster. 

PkL Tis not the treasure of all kings in one, 
The wcakfa of Tagns, nor the rocks of pearl, 
That pave the court of Neptune, can weigh 

down 
£W virtue! It was I, that hurt the princess. 
JJ* * me, some god, upon a pyramid ! 
Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice 
u*d as your thunder to me, that from thence 



I may discourse to all the under-world 
The worth, that dwells in him ! 

PA* How's this? 

BeL My lord, some man 
Weary of life, that would be glad to die. 

Phi Leave these untimely courtesies, Bejlario. 

BeL Alas, he's mad ! Come, will you lead me 
on? 

Phi By all the oaths, that men ought most to 
keep, 
And gods to punish most, when men do break, 
He touched her not. Take heed, BeilariQ, 
How thou dost drown the virtues thou hast shown, 
With perjury. By all that's good, 'twas I ! 
You know, she stood betwixt me and my right. 

Pka. Thy own tongue be thy judge. 

Cle. It was Philaster. 

Dion. Is*t not a brave boy ? 
Well, sirs, I fear me, we were all deceived. 

Pki. Have I no friend here ? 

Dion. Yes. 

Phi. Then shew it : 
Some good body lend a hand to draw us nearer. 
Would you have tears shed for you, when you die? 
Then lay me gently on his neck, that there 
I may weep floods^ and breathe out my spirit. 
'Tis not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold 
Locked in the heart of earth, can buy away 
This armful from me : This had been a ransom 
To have redeemed the great Atfgustus Cttsar, 
Had he been taken. You hardhearted men, 
More stony than these mountains, can you see 
Such clear pure blood drop, and not cut your 

flesh 
To stop his life ? To bind whose bitter wounds, * 
Queens ought to tear their hair, and with their 

tears 
Bathe them. Forgive me, thou, that art the wealth 
Of poor Philaster. 

Enter Kino, Arethusa, and a Guard, 

King. Is the villain taken ? 

Phm. Sir, here be two confess the deed ; but 
say it was Philaster ? 

Phi. Question it no more ; it was. 

King. The fellow, that did fight with him, will 
tell us that. 

Are. Ah me ! I know he will. 

King. Did not you know him? 

Are. Sir, if it was he, ho was disguised. 

Phi. I was so. Oh, my stars ! that I should 
live still. 

King. Thou ambitious fool ! 
Thou, that hast laid a train for thy own life ! 
Now I do mean to do, 111 leave to talk. 
Bear him to prison. 

Are. Sir, tney did plot together to take hence 
This harmless life ; should it pass unrevenged, 
I should to earth go weeping : Grant me, then, 
(By all the love a father bears his child) 
Their custodies, and that I may appoint 
Their tortures, and their death. 



4 



i 

L 



48 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 4- 



Dion. Death? Soft! our law 
Will not teach that, for this fault 

King. Tis granted; take them to you, with a 
guard. 
Come, princely Pharamond, this business past. 
We may with more security go on 



To your intended match. 

Cle. I pray, that this action lose not Philaster 
the hearts of the people. 

Dion. Fear it not; their over-wise heads will 
think it but a trick. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT V. 



Enter Dion, Cleremont, and Thrasiline. 

Thra. Has the king sent for him to death ? 

Dion. Yes; but the king must know, 'tis not 
in his power to war with Heaven. 

Cle. We linger time ; the king sent for Philas- 
ter and the headsman an hour ago. 

Thra. Are all his wounds well ? 

Dion. All; they were but scratches; but the 
loss of blood made him faint. 

Cle. We dally, gentlemen. 

Thra. Away: 

Dion. Well scuffle hard, before he perish. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter Philaster, Arethusa, and Bellario. 

Are. Nay, dear Philaster, grieve not; we are 
well. 

Bel Nay, good my lord, forbear; we are won- 
drous well. 

Phi. Oh, Arethusa ! oh, Bellario ! leave to be 
kind: 
I shall be shot from Heaven, as now from earth, 
If you continue so. I am a man, 
False to a pair of the most trusty ones, 
That ever earth bore : Can it bear us all ? 
Forgive, and leave me ! But the king hath sent 
To call me to my death : Oh, shew it me, 
And then forget me ! And for thee, my boy, 
I shall deliver words will mollify 
The hearts of beasts, to spare thy innocence. 

Bel Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing, 
Worthy your noble thoughts : Tis not a life ; 
Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away. 
Should I out-live you, I should then out-live 
Virtue and honour ; and, when that day comes, 
If ever I shall close these eyes but once, 
May I live spotted for my perjury, 
And waste my limbs to nothing ! 

Are. And I (the woful'st maid that ever was, 
Forced with my hands to bring my lord to death) 
Do, by the honour of a virgin, swear 
To tefi no hours beyond it 

Phi. Make me not hated so. 

Are. Come from this prison, all joyful to our 
deaths. 

Phi. People will tear me, when they find ye 
true 
To such a wretch as I; I shall die loathed. 
Enjoy your kingdoms peaceably, whilst I 
For ever sleep, forgotten with my faults ! 
Every just servant, every maid in love, 
Will have a piece of me, if ye be true. 

Are. My dear lord, say not so. 

2 



BeL A piece of you ? 
He was not born of woman, that can cut 
It, and look on. 

Phi Take me in tears betwixt you, 
For else my heart will break with shame and 
row. 

Are. Why, 'tis well. 

BeL Lament no more. 

Phi. What would you have done, 
If you had wronged me basely, and had found 
My life no price, compared to yours ? For lore, 

sirs, 
Deal with me truly. 

Bel. Twas mistaken, sir. 

Phi. Why, if it were? 

Bel Then, sir, we would have asked yon par- 
don. 

Phi And have hope to enjoy it? 

Are. Enjoy it ? ay. 

Phi. Would you, indeed ? Be phtior 

Bel We would, my lord. 

Phi. Forgive me, men. 

Are. So, so. 

Bel Tis as it should be now. 

Phi Lead to my death. [Exeunt. 

Enter Kino, Dion, Cleremowt, and 
Thrasiline. 

King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince ? 

Cle. So please you, sir, he's gone to see the- 
city, 
And the new platform, with some gentlemen* 
Attending on him. 

King. Is the princess ready 
To bring her prisoner out ? 

Thra. She waits your grace. 

King. Tell her we stay. 

Dion. King, you may be deceived yet r 
The head, you aim at, cost more setting on- 
Than to be lost so lightly. If it must off, 
Like a wild overflow, that swoops before him 
A golden stack, and with it shakes down bridges,* 
Cracks the strong hearts of pines, whose cable- 
roots 
Held out a thousand storms, a thoasand thun- 
ders, 
And, so made mightier, takes whole villages 
Upon his back, and, in that heat of pride, 
Charges strong towns, towers, castles, palaces, 
And lays them desolate ; so shall thy head, 
Thy noble head, bury the lives of thousands*. 
That must bleed with thee, like a sacrifice, 
In thy red ruins. 



Flbtchib.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



49 



U«/w Philaster, AnETtiusA, and Bellario 
iji a robe and garland. 

King. How now ! what masque id this ? 
BcL Right royal sir, I should 
Sng you an epitnalamium of these lovers, 
Bat, having lost my best airs with my fortunes, 
And wanting a celestial harp to strike 
Ink blessed union on, thus in glad story 
love you alL These two fair cedar-branches, 
He noblest of the mountain, where they grew 
Strsitest and tallest, under whose still shades 
The worthier beasts have made their layers, and 

slept, 
Free from the Sirian star, and the fell thunder- 
stroke, 
Free from the clouds, when they were big with 

humour, 
And delivered, in thousand spouts, their issues to 

the earth: 
Oh. there was none but silent quiet there ! 
'till ne?er-pleased Fortune* shot up shrubs, 
Base onder-hrambles, to divorce these branches ; 
And for a while they did so; and did reign 
Over the mountain, and choak up his beauty 
With brakes, rude thorns and thistles, till the sun 
Scorched them even to the roots, and dried them 

there: 
And now a gentle gale hath blown again, 
That made these branches meet, and twine toge- 
ther, 
Never to be divided. The god, that sings 
Q» holy numbers over mamage-beds, 
Bath knit their noble hearts, and here they stand 
Your children, mighty king; and I have donei 
King. How, how ? 
Art. Sir, if you love it in plain truth, 

Sor there's no masquing in't; tliis gentleman, 
k prisoner that you gave me, is become 
My keeper, and through all the bitter throes . 
Tour jealousies and his ill fate have wrought him, 
'Hms nobly hath he struggled, and at length 
Arrived here, my dear husband. 

King. Your dear husband ! Call in 
The captain of the citadel ; there you shall keep 
Your wedding. Til provide a masque shall make 
Your Hymen torn his saffron into a sullen coat, 
And sing sad requiems to your departing souls : 
Blood shall put out your torches ; and, instead 
Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks, 
Aa axe shall hang like a prodigious meteor, 
Beady to crop your loves' sweets. Hear, ye 

From this time do I shake all title off 
Of father to this woman, this base woman ; 
And what there is of vengeance, in a lion 
Cast among dogs, or robbed of his dear young, 
The same, enforced more terrible, more mighty, 
Expect from me ! 
Art, Sir, by that little life I have left to swear 

There's nothing that can stir me from myself. 
V#l. L 



What I have done, Fve done without repentance; 
For death can be no bugbear unto me, 
So long as Pharamond is not my headsman. 

Dion. Sweet peace upon thy soul, thou worthy 
maid, 
Whene'er thou diest ! For this time Til excuse 

thee, 
Or be thy prologue. 

Phi. Sir, let me speak next ; 
And let my dying words be better with you 
Than my dull living actions. If you aim 
At the dear life of this sweet innocent, 
You are a tyrant and a savage monster ; 
Your memory shall be as foul behind you, 
As you are, living ; all your better deeds 
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble ; 
No chronicle shall speak you, though your own, 
But for the shame of men. No monument 
(Though high and big as Pelion) shall be able 
To cover this base murder : Make it rich 
With brass, with purest gold, and sliming jasper, 
Like the Pyramids ; lay on epitaphs, 
Such as make great men gods ; my little marble 
(That only clothes my ashes, not my faults) 
Shall far out-shine it And, for after issues, 
Think not so madly of the heavenly wisdoms, 
That they will give you more for your mad rage 
To cut off, unless it be some snake, or something 
Like yourself, that in his birth shall strangle you. 
Remember my father, king ! There was a fault, 
But I forgive it. Let that sin* persuade you 
To love wis lady : If you have a soul, 
Think, save her, and Se saved. For myself, 
I have so long expected this glad hour, 
So languished under you, and daily withered, 
That, heaven knows, it is my joy to die : 
I find a recreation in it 

Enter a Messenger, 

Mts. Where's the king ? 

King. Here. 

Mes. Get you to your strength, 
And rescue the prince Pharamond from danger: 
He's taken prisoner by the citizens, 
Fearing the lord Philaster. 

Dion. Oh, brave followers ! 
Mutiny, my fine dear countrymen, mutiny ! 
Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your wea- 
pons 
In honour of your mistresses. 

Enter another Messenger. 

Mes. Arm, arm, arm ! 
King. A thousand devils take them ! 
Dion. A thousand blessings on them ! 
Mes. Arm, oh, king ! The city is in mutiny, 
Led by an old grey ruffian, who comes on 
In rescue of the lord Philaster. 

[Exit tcith Are. Phi. BeL 
King. Away to the citadel : I'll see them safe* 
And then cope with these burghers. Let the 
guard, 

D 



so 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont $ 



And all the gentlemen, give strong attendance. 

[Exit 

Moment Diok, Cleremont, Tbrasimke. 

Cle. The city up ! this was above our wishes. 

Dion. Ay, and the marriage too. By my life, 
This noble lady has deceived us all. 
A plague upon myself, a thousand plagues, 
For haying such unworthy thoughts of her dear 

honour! 
Oh, I could beat myself ! or, do you beat me, 
And Til beat you ; for we had all one thought 

Cle. No, no, 'twill but lose time. 

Dion. You say true. Are your swords sharp? 
Well, my dear countrymen W hat-ye-Iack, if you 
continue, and fall not back upon the first broken 
•shin, HI have you chronicled and chronicled, and 
cut and chronicled, and sung in all-to-be-praised 
sonnets, and graved in new brave ballads, that 
all tongues shall troule you in sacula utculorum, 
toy kind can-carriers. 

Tkra. What if a toy take them in the heels 
now, and they run all away, and cry, ' the devil 
take the hindmost V 

Dion. Then the same devil take the foremost 
too, and souse him for his breakfast ! If they all 

rre cowards, my curses fly amongst them, and 
speeding ! May they have murrains rain to 
keep the gentlemen at home, unbound in easy 
frieze ! May the moths branch their velvets, 
and their silks only be worn before sore eyes ! 
May their false lights undo them, and discover 
presses, holes, stains, and oldness in their stuns, 
and make them shop-rid ! May they keep whores 
and horses, and break ; and live mewed up with 
necks of beef and turnips ! May they have many 
children, and none like the father ! May they 
know no language but that gibberish they' 
prattle to their parcels; unless it be the Go- 
thick Latin they write in their bonds ; and may 
they write that, false, and lose their debts ! 

Enter the Kino. 

King. Now the vengeance of all the gods con- 
found them, how they swarm together ! What a 
hum they raise ! Devils choke your wild throats ! 
If a man had need to use their valours, he must 
pay a brokage for it, and then bring them on, 
and they will fight like sheep. Tis Philaster, 
none but Philaster, must allay this heat : They 
will not hear me speak, but fling dirt at me, and 
call me tyrant. Oh, run, dear friend, and bring 
the lord Philaster: Speak him fair; call him 
prince ; do him all the courtesy you can ; com- 
mend me to him ! Oh, my wits, my wits ! [Exit Cle. 

Dion. Oh, my brave countrymen ! as I live, 
I will not buy a pin out of your walls for this : 
Nay, you shall cozen me, and I'll thank you; 
and send you brawn and bacon, and soil you 
every long vacation a brace of foremen, that 
at Michaelmas shall come up fat and kicking. 



King. What they will do with this poor prince, 
the gods know, and I fear. 

Pion. Why, sir, they'll flea him, and make 
church-buckets of his skin, to quench rebellion ; 
then clap a rivet in. his sconce, and hang him up 
for a sign. 

Enter Cleremoxt with Philaster. 

King. Oh, worthy sir, forgive me ! Do not 
make 
Your miseries and my faults meet together, 
To bring a greater danger. Be yourself, 
Still sound amongst diseases. I have wronged 

you, 
And though I find it last, and beaten to it, 
Let first your goodness know it Calm the peo- 
ple, 
And be what you were born : Take your love, 
And with her my repentance, and my wishes, 
And all my prayers. By the gods, my heart speaks 

this; 
And if the least fall from me not performed, 
May I be struck with thunder ! 

Phi. Mighty sir, 
I will not do your greatness so much wrong, 
As not to make your word truth. Free the 

princess, 
And the poor boy, and let me stand the shock 
Of this mad sea-breach ; which I'll either turn. 
Or perish with it. 

King. Let your own word free them. 
Phi. Then thus I take my leave, kissing your 
hand, 
And hanging on your royal word. Be kingly. 
And be not moved, sir : I shall bring you peace, 
Or never bring myself back. 

King. All the gods go with thee 1 [Exeunt, 

Enter an old captain and citizens, with Pha- 

ramond. 

Cap. Come, my brave myrmidons, let's fall 
on ! let our caps swarm, my boys, and your 
nimble tongues forget your mother's gibberish, of 
what do you lack, and set your mouths up, 
children, till your palates fall frighted, half a 
fathom past the cure of bay-salt and gross pep- 

Cr. And then cry Philaster, brave Philaster ! 
t Philaster be deeper in request, my ding- 
dongs, my pairs of dear indentures, lungs of 
clubs, than your cold water camlets, or your 
paintings spotted with copper. Let not your 
nasty silks, or your branched cloth of bodkin, or 
your tissues, dearly beloved of spiced cake and 
custard, your Robinhoods, Scarlets and Johns, 
tie your affections in darkness to your shops. 
No, dainty duckers, up with your three-piled 
spirits, your wrought valours ; and let your 
uncut choler make the king feel the 
of your mightiness. Philaster! cry, my 
nobles, cry. 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



51 



M PhOaster! Philaster! 

Cap. How do you like this, my lord prince ? 
Hoe we mad boys, I tell you ; these are things, 
art will not strike their top sails to a foist; and 
Jet a man of war, an argosy, hull and cry cockles. 

Pka. Why, yon rude slave, do you know what 
yon do? 

Cap. My pretty prince of puppets, we do know; 
aad give your great n e s s warning, that you talk 
bo more such bug-words, or that soldered crown 
shall be scratched with a musquet. Dear prince 
Pippeo, down with your noble Mood ; or, as I live, 
111 hare you coddled. Let him loose, my spirits ! 
Make us a round ring with your bills, my Hectors, 
and let us see what this trim man dares do. 
Now, sir, have at you ! Here I lie, and with this 
Mailing blow (do you sweat, prince ?> I could 
balk your grace, and hang you up cross-legged, 
like a hare at a poulterer's, and dotthis with this 
wiper. 

Pka. You will not see me murdered, wicked 



1 Cit. Yes, indeed, will we, sir : We have not 
seen one foe a great while. 

Cap. He would have weapons, would he ? Give 
him a broadside, my brave boys, with your pikes; 
branch me his skin in flowers like a sattin, and 
between every flower a mortal cat. Your roy- 
alty shall ravel ! Jag him, gentlemen : I'll have 
him cut to the kell, then down the seams. Oh, 
for a whip to make him galloon-laces ! HI have 
a coach-whip. 

Pka. Oh, spare me, gentlemen ! 

Csp. Hold, hold ; the man begins to fear, and 
know himself; he shall for this time only be 
seeled up, with a feather through his nose, that 
be may only see heaven, and think whither he is 
going. Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will pro- 
claim 'you: You would be king! Thou tender 
beir apparent to a church-ale, thou slight prince 
rf single sarcenet; thou royal ring-tail, fit to fly 
tt nothing but poor mens' poultry, and have 
every boy beat thee from that too with his bread 
tad butter! 

Pha. Gods keep me from these hell hounds ! 

1 Cii. ni have a leg, that's certain, 

2 Cii. I'll have an arm. 

3 Cii. FM have his nose, and at mine own 
charge build a college, and clap it upon the gate. 

4 Cit. Ill have his little gut to string a kit 
^riih ; for, certainly, aroyal gut will sound like silver. 

PA*. 'Would they were in thy belly, and I past 
■y pain at once ! 

5 CU. Good captain, let me have his liver to 
feed ferrets. 

Cap. Who will have parcels else? speak. 

Pha. Good gods, consider me 1 I shall be tor- 
tared. 

1 Ccf. Captain, Fll give you the trimming of 
your two-hand sword, and let me have his skin 
to make false scabbards. 

2 Cit. He has no hornsy sir, has he ? 



Cap. No, sir, he's a pollard. What woukrst 
thou do with horn* 

2 Cit. Oh, if he had, I would have made rare 
hafts and whistles of them; but his shin-bones, if 
they be sound, shall serve me. 

Enter Phi lasts*. 

All Long live Philaster, the brave prince Phi- 
laster ! 
Phi I thank you, gentlemen. But why are 

these 
Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your 

hands 
Uncivil trades? 

Cap. My royal Roskkar, 
We are thy myrmidons, thy guard, thy roarers ! 
And when thy noble body is in durance, 
Thus do we dap our musty murrions on, 
And trace the streets in terror. Is it peace, 
Thou Mars of men ? Is the king sociable, 
And bids thee live? Art thou above thy foeraen, 
And free as Phoebus? Speak. If net, this stand 
Of royal blood shall be abroach, a-tik, 
And run even to the lees of honour. - 

Phi. Hold, and be satisfied : I am myself; 
Free as my thoughts are : by the godsyl am. 

Cap. Art thou the dainty darling of the king ? 
Art thou the Hvlas to our Hercules? 
Do the lords bow, and the retarded scarlets 
Kiss their gummed golls> and cry, * we ate your 

servants r* 
Is the court navigable, and the presence stuck 
With flags of friendship ? If not, we are thy 

castle, 
And this man sleeps. 

Phi. I am what I do desire to be, your friend ; 
I am what I was born to be, your prince. 

Pha. Sjr, there is some humanity in you ; 
You have a noble soul ; forget my name, 
And know my misery : set me safe aboard 
From these wild cannibals, and, as I live, 
I'll quit this Land for ever. There is nothing, 
Perpetual imprisonment, cold, hunger, sickness 
Of all sorts, of all dangers, and all together, 
The worst company of the worst men, madness, 

age, 
To be as many creatures as a woman, 
And do as all they do ; nay, to despair; 
But I would rather make it a new nature, 
And live with all those, than endure one hour 
Amongst these wild dogs. 

Phi. I do pity you. Friends, discharge your 

fears; 
Deliver me the prince : I'H warrant you, 
I shall be old enough to find my safety. 

3 Cit. Good sir, take heed he does not hurt 

you: 
He's a fierce man, I can tell you, sir. 

Cap. Prince, by your leave, Til have a sur- 
cingle, 
And mail you like a hawk. [He $tins. 

Phi. Away, away ; there is no ganger in him ; 



1 



52 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont $ 



Alas, he had rather sleep to shake his fit off, 
Look ye, friends, how gently he leads. Upon my 

word, 
He's tame enough, he needs no further watching. 
Good my friends, go to your houses, 
And by me have your pardons, and my love ; 
And know, there shall be nothing in my power 
You may deserve, but you shall nave your wishes. 
To give you mere thanks were to (latter you. 
Continue still- your love ; and, for an earnest, 
Drink this. , 

AIL Long mayest thou live, brave prince! brave 
prince ! 
Brave prince ! [Ex. Phi., and Pha. 

Cap. Thou art the king of courtesy ! 
Fall off again, my sweet youths. Come, and every 
man trace to his house again, and hang his pewter 
up ; then to the tavern, and bring your wives in 
muffs. We will have music ; and the red grape 
shall make us dance, and rise, boys. [Exeunt. 

Enter King, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra, 
Cleremont, Dion, Thrasiline, Bellario, 
and attendants. 

King. Is it appeased ? 

Dion. Sir, all is quiet as the dead of night, 
As peaceable as sleep. My lord Philaster 
Brings on the prince himself. 

King. Kind gentleman ! 
I will not break the least word I have given 
In promise to him : I have heaped a world 
Of grief upon his head, which yet I hope 
To wash away; 

Enter Philaster and Pharamond. 

Cle. My lord is come. 

King. My son ! 
Blest be the time, that I have leave to call 
Such virtue mine ! Now thou art in mine arms, 
Methinks I have a salve unto my breast 
For all the stings, that dwell there. Streams of grief, 
That I have wronged thee, and as much of joy, 
That I repent it, issue from mine eyes : 
Let them appease thee. Take thy right; take her; 
She is thy right too ; and forget to urge 
My vexed soul with that I did before. 

Phi. Sir, it is blotted from my memory, 
Past and forgotten. For you, prince of Spain, 
Whom I have thus redeemed, you have full leave 
To make an honourable voyage home. 
And if you would go furnished to your realm 
With fair provision, I do see a lady, 
Methinks, would gladly bear you company : 
How like you this piece ? 

Meg. Can shame remain perpetually in me, 
And not in others ? or, have princes salves, 
To cure ill names, that meaner people want ? 

Phi. What mean you ? 

Meg. You must get another ship, 
To bear the princess and the boy together. 

Dion. How now ! 

Meg. Ship us all four, my lord ; we can endure 



Weather and wind alike. 
King. Clear thou thyself, or knot* not me for 
father. 

Are. This earth, how false it is ! What means* 
is left 
For me to clear myself? It lies in your belief. 
My lords, believe me ; and let all things else 
Struggle together to dishonour me. 

BeL Oh, stop your ears, great king, that I may 
speak 
As freedom would ; then I will caH this lady 
As base as be her actions ! hear me, sir : 
Believe your heated blood, when it rebels 
Against your reason, sooner than this lady. 

Meg. By this good light, he bears it hand- 
somely. 

Phi. This lady ? I will sooner trust the wind 
With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearl. 
Than her witteany thing. Believe her not ! 
Why, think you, if I did believe her words, 
I would outlive them ? Honour cannot take 
Revenge on you ; then, what were to be known 
But death? 

King. Forget her, sir, since all is knit 
Between us. But I must request of you 
One favour, and will sadly be denied. 

Phi. Command, whate er it be. 

King. Swear to be true 
To what you promise. 

Phi. By the powers above ! 
Let it not be the death of her or him, 
And it is granted. 

King. Bear away that boy 
To torture : I will have her cleared or buried. 

Phi. Oh, let me call my words back, worthy 
sir! 
Ask something else ! Bury my life and right 
In one poor grave ; but do not take away 
My life and fame at once. 

King. Away with him ! it stands irrevocable. 

Phi. Turn all your eyes on me : here stands a 
man, 
The falsest and the basest of this world. 
Set swords against this breast, some honest man. 
For I have lived, till I am pitied ! 
My former deeds were hateful, but this last 
Is pitiful ; for, I, unwillingly, 
Have given the dear preserver of my life 
Unto his torture ! Is it in the power 
Of flesh and blood, to carrv this and live ? 

"[Offers to kill himself: 

Are. Dear sir, be patient yet ! Oh, stay that 
hand. 

King. Sirs, strip that boy. 

Dion. Come, sir; your tender flesh will try 
your constancy. 

BeL Oh, kill me, gentlemen ! 

Dion. No! Help, sirs. 

Bel. Will you torture me ? 

King* Haste there ! why stay you ? 

BeL Then I shall not break my vow, 
You know, just gods, though I discover alL 



Plbtchbe.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



53 



King. Horn's that ? will he confess ? 

Dm. Sir, so he says. 

King. Speak then. 

Bel Great king, if yon command 
Hits lord to talk with me alone, my tongue, 
Urged by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts 
My youth hath known ; and stranger things than 



Too hear not often. 

King. Walk aside with him. 

Dim. Why speakest thou not ? 

BeL Know you this face, my lord ? 

Dion. No. 

BeL Have you not seen it, nor the like r 

Dm*. Yes, I have seen the like, but readily 
I know not where. 

Bet I have been often told, 
la court, of one Euphrasia, a lady, ; 
-And daughter to you ; betwixt whom and roe 
Ther, that would flatter my bad face, would swear 
There was such strange resemblance, that we two 
Could not be known asunder, dressed alike. 

Dion. By heaven, and so there is. 

BeL For her fair sake, 
Who now doth spend the spring-time of her life 
In holy pilgrimage, move to the king, 
That I may escape this torture. 

Dion. But thou speakest 
As like Euphrasia, as thou dost look. 
How came it to thy knowledge, that she lives 
In mlgrhnage ? 

BeL I know it not, my lord ; 
Bat I hare heard it ; and do scarce believe it. 

Dion. Oh, my shame ! Is't possible ? Draw 
near, 
Hat I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she, 
Or else her murderer ? Where wert thou born ? 

Bel InSyracusa. 

Dion. What's thy name ? 

BeL Euphrasia. 

Dim. Oh, 'tis just, 'tis she ! 
Now I do know thee. Oh, that thou hadst died, 
And I had never seen thee nor my shame ! 
How shall I own thee ? shall this tongue of mine 
E'er call thee daughter more ? 

Bel 'Would I had died indeed ; I wish it too : 
And so I must have done by vow, ere published 
What I have told, but that there was no means 
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this, 
The princess is all clear. 

King. What have you done ? 

Dioa. All is discovered. 

Phi. Why then hold you me ? 

[He offers to stab himself. 
All is discovered ! Pray you, let me go. 

King. Stay him. 

Are. What is discovered ? 

Dion. Why, my shame ! 
It b a woman : let her speak the rest. 

Phi. How? that again ! 

Dion. It is a woman. 

Phi. Blessed be yon powers, that favour inno- 
cence! 



King. Lay hold upon thai lady. 

Phi. It is a woman, sir ! hark, gentlemen ! 
It is a woman ! Arethusa, take 
My soul into thy breast, that would be gone 
With joy. It is a woman ! thou art fair, . 
And virtuous still to ages, in despite of malice. 

King. Speak you; where lies nis -shame? 

BeL I am his daughter. 

PA*. The gods are just. 

Dion. I dare accuse none; but, before you two, 
The virtue of our age, I bend my knee 
For mercy. 

Phi Take it freely ; ^or, I know, 
Though what thou didst were indiscreetly done, 
Twas meant well. 

Are. And for me, 
I have a power to pardon sins, as oft 
As any man has power to wrong me. 

Cle. Noble and worthy ! 

Phi. But, Bellario, 
(For I must call thee still so) tell me why 
Thou didst conceal thy sex ? It was a fault ; 
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds 
Of truth outweighed it : all these jealousies 
Had flown to nothing, if thou hadst discovered 
What now we know. 

BeL My father oft would speak 
Your worth and virtue ; and, as I did grow 
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst 
To sec the man so praised ; but yet all this 
Was but a maiden longing^ to be lost 
As soon as found ; till sitting in my window, 
Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god, 
I thought, (but it was you) enter our gates. 
My blood flew out, and back again as fast, 
As I had puffed it forth and sucked it in 
Like breath : then was I called away in haste, 
To entertain you. Never was a man, 
Heaved from a sheep-cot to a sceptre, raised 
So high in thoughts as I : you left a kiss 
Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep 
From you for ever. I did hear you talk, 
Far above singing ! after you were gone, 
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched 
What stirred it so : alas ! I found it love ; 
Yet far from lust ; for could I but have lived 
In presence of you, I had had my end. 
For this I did delude my noble father 
With a feigned pilgrimage, and dressed myself 
In habit of a boy ; and, for I knew 
My birth no match for you, I was past hope 
Of having you ; and, understanding well, 
That, when I made discovery of my sex, 
I could not stay with you, l made a vow, 
By all the most religious things a maid 
Could call together, never to be known, 
Whilst there was hope to hide mp from men's eyes, 
For other than I seemed, that I might ever 
Abide with you : then sat I by the fount, 
Where first you took me up, 

King, Search out a match 
Within our kingdom, where and when thou wilt, 



54 



BRITISH DRAMA; 



[Beaumont fyt. 



And I will pay thy dowry; and thyself 
Wilt well deserve him. 

Bel. Never, sir, will I 
Marry ; it is a thine within ray vow : 
But, if I may have leave to serve the princess, 
To see the virtues of her lord and her, 
I shall have hope to live. 

Art. I, Philaster, 
Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady 
Dressed like a page to serve you ; nor will I 
Suspect her living here. Come, live with me ; 
live free, as I do. She, that loves my lord, 
Curst be the wife that hates her ! 

Phi. I grieve such virtues should be laid inearth, 
Without an heir. Hear me, my royal father : 
Wrong not the freedom of our souls so much, 
To think to take revenge of that base woman ; 
Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free 
As she was born, saving from shame and sin. 



King. Set her at liberty ; but leave the court ; 
This is no place for such I You, Pharamond, 
Shall have free passage, and a conduct home, 
Worthy so great a prince. When you come there^ 
Remember, 'twas your faults, that lost you her, 
And not my purposed wilL 

Pka. I do confess, 
Renowned sir. 

King. Last, join your hands in one. Enjoy; 
Philaster, 
This kingdom, which is yours, and after me 
Whatever I call mine. My blessing on you ! 
All happy hours be at your marriage joys, 
That you may grow yourselves over all lands, 
And live to see your plenteous branches spring 
Wherever there is sun ! let princes learn 
By this, to rule the passions of their blood, 
For what heaven wills can never be withstood. 

[Erami 



THE 

BONDMAN. 

BT 

MASSINGER. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



MEN. 



TiKOura, the general of Corinth. 
Aichidamus, the Pretor ofSyrucusa. 
Dipiilus, a senator of Syr acuta. 
Cuo5, a fat impotent lord, 
Pisa5Dbr (disguised) a gentleman of Thebes. 
FouPHftos (disguised) friend to Pisander. 
Lbosthejtes, a gentleman of Syracusa, enamour- 
ed cf Clear a. 
Asorus, a foolish lover, and the son ofCleon. 



Timagoras, the son of Archidamus* 
Gracculo, \ bandmtn9 

ClMBRIO, J 

A Jailor. 

WOMEN, 

Cleora, Daughter of Archidamus. 
Corisca, a proud wanton lady, wife to Clean. 
Olympia, a rich widow. 
Statilia, sister to Pisander, slave to CUora. 
Zanthia, slavs to Corisca* 



ACT L 



SCENES 

Enter Timagoras and Leosthenes. 

Timag. Why should you droop, Leosthenes, or 
despair 
Mj sister's favour? What, before, you purchased 
By courtship, and fair language, ia these wars 
(For, from her soul, you know, she loves a soldier) 
You may deserve by action. 
Lust. Good Timagoras, 
When I have said my friend, think all is spoken 
That may assure me yours; and pray you, believe, 
The dreadful voice of war, that shakes the city, 
The thundering threats of Carthage, nor their army, 
fiaised to make good those threats, affright not me. 
If fair Cleora were confirmed his prize, 
That has the strongest arm and sharpest sword, 
I'd court Belloaa in her horrid trim. 
As if she were a mistress, and bless fortune 
That offers my young valour to the proof, , 
How much I dare do for your sisters love* 
But, when that I consider how averse 
Your noble father, great Archidamus, 
Is, and hath ever been, to my .desires, 
Reason may warrant me to doubt and fe*r> 
What seeds soever I sow in these wars 
Of noble courage, his determinate will 
Hay blast, and give my harvest to another, 
That ne'er toiled for it. 
Timag. Prithee, do not nourish 






These jealous thoughts; I'm thine, and, pardon me, 

Though I repeat it, my Leosthenes, 

That, for thy sake, when the bpM Theban sued, 

Far-famed Pisander, for my sister's love, 

Sent him disgraced and discontented horiie ; 

I wrought my father then ; and I, that stopped not 

In the career of my affection to thee, 

When that renowned worthy broatjht with him 

High birth, wealth, courage, as fee'd advocates 

To mediate for him, never will consent, 

A fool, that only has the shape of man, 

Asotus, though he be rich Cleon's heir, 

Shall bear her from thee. 

Least. In that trust I live: 

Timag. Which never shall deceive you. 

Enter Pisander. 

Pis. Sir, the general, 
Timoleon, by his trumpets hath given warning 
For a remove. 

Timag. 'Tiswell; provide* my horse. 

Fin. I shall, sir. [Exit Pisaitder. 

v Least. This slave has a strange aspect ? 

Timag. Fit for his fortune; 'tis a strong limbed 
knave ; 
My father bought him for my slater's fitter. 
O pride of women ! Coaches are too common ; 
They surfeit in the happiness of peace, 
And ladies think they keep not state enough, 
If, for their pomp and ease, they are not borne 
In triumph on mens 1 shoulders. 



$6 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massingeb. 



Leost. Who commands 
The Carthaginian fleet ? 

Timag. Gisco's their admiral, 
And, 'tis our happiness, a- raw young fellow, 
One never trained in arms, but rather fashioned 
To tilt with ladies lips than crack a lance, 
Ravish a feather from a mistress 7 fan, 
And wear it as a favour. A steel helmet, 
Made horrid with a glorious plume, will crack 
His woman's neck. 

Leo. No more of him. — The motives 
That Corinth gives us aid ? 

Timag. The common danger: 
For Sicily being on fire, she is not safe ; 
It being apparent that ambitious Carthage, 
(That to enlarge her empire strives to fasten 
An unjust gripe on us, that live free lords 
Of Syracusa) will not end, till Greece 
Acknowledge her their sovereign. 

Leost. I'm satisfied. 
What think you of our general ? 

Ttmag. He is a man 
Of strange and reserved parts; but a great soldier. 

[A trumpet sounds. 
His trumpets call us? Ill forbear his character : 
To-morrow, in the senate-house, at large 
He will express himself. 

Leost, I'll follow you. [Exeunt. 

SCENE H.— The Senate House. 

Enter Arch i dam us, C^eon, Diphilus, Olym- 
pi a, Cor isc a, Cleora, a?ui Zanthia. 

Arch. So careless we have been, my noble lords, 
In the disposing of our own affairs, 
Add ignorant in the art of government, 
That now we need a stranger to instruct us. 
Yet we are happy that our neighbour Corinth 
(Pitying the unjust gripe Carthage would lay 
On Syracusa) hath vouchsafed to. lend us 
Her man of men, Timoleon, to defend 
Our country and our liberties. 

Diph. Tis a favour 
We are unworthy of, and we may blush 
Necessity compclls us to receive it. 

Arch. Oshame! that we,that are a populous nation, 
Engaged to liberal nature for all blessings 
An island can bring forth ; we that have limbs, 
And able bodies, shipping, arms and treasure, 
The sinews of the war, now we are called 
To stand upon our guard, cannot produce 
One, fit to be our general ! 

Cleon. I'm old and fat ; 
I could say something else. 

Arch. We must obey 
The time and our occasions ; ruinous buildings, 
Whose bases and foundations are infirm, 
Must use supporters : We are circled round 
With danger; o'er our heads with sail-stretched 

wings 
Destruction hovers, and a cloud of mischief 
Ready to break upon us ; no hope left us, 
That may divert it, but our sleeping virtue, 



Roused up by brave Timoleon. 
Cleon. When arrives he ? 
Diph. He is expected every hour. 
Arch. The braveries 
Of Syracusa, among whom my son 
Timagoras, Leosthenes, and Asotus, 
(Your hopeful heir, lord Cleon) two days since 
Rode forth to meet him, and attend him to 
The city ; every minute we expect 
To he blessed with his presence. 

Cleon. What shout's this? [Shout at a distance. 
Diph. Tis seconded with loud music. 

[Trumpets flourish within. 
Arch. Which confirms 
His wished-for entrance. Let us entertain bin 
With all respect, solemnity, and pomp, 
A man may merit, that comes to redeem us 
From slavery and oppression. 

Cleon. I'll lock up 
My doors, and guard my gold; these lads of Co- 
rinth 
Have nimble fingers, and I fear them more, 
Being within our walls, than those of Carthage; 
They are far off 

Arch. And, ladies, be it your care 
To welcome him and his followers with all duty . 
For rest resolved, their hands and swords must 

keep you 
In that full height of happiness you live in : 
A dreadful change else follows. 

[Exeunt Arch, Cleon. and Diph.. 

Enter Timagoras, Leosthenes, Asotus, Timo- 
leon in black, led in by Archidamcs, Diphi- 
lus, and C leon ;foUotDedby Pisander,Grao 
culo, Cimbrio, and other Slaves. 

Arch. It is your seat, 
Which with a general suffrage, 
As to the supreme magistrate, Sicily tenders, 
And prays Timoleon to accept. 

Timol. Such honours, 
To one ambitious of rules or title, 
Whose heaven or earth is placed in his command, 
And absolute power o'er others, would with joy, 
And veins swoln high, with pride be entertained. 
They take not me; for I have ever loved 
An equal freedom, and proclaim all such 
As would usurp another^ liberties, 
Rebels to nature, to whose bounteous blessings 
All men lay claim as true legitimate sons. 
But such as have made forfeit of themselves 
By vicious courses, and their birthright lost* 
Tis not injustice they are marked for slaves 
To serve the virtuous. For myself, I know 
Honours andgreatemploymentsaregreat burdens, 
And must require an Atlas to support them. 
He that would govern others, first should be 
The master of himself, richly endued 
With depth of understanding, height of courage, 
And those remarkable graces which I dare not 
Ascribe unto myself. 

Arch. Sir, empty men 
Are trumpets of their own deserts; but you. 



Massingkk.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



57 



That we not in opinion, bat in proof, 
RttUjreood, and full of glorious parts, 
Leare the report of what you are to fame, 
Which, from the ready tongues of all good men, 
AJood proclaims you. 

Dipk Besides, you stand bound, 
Hiring so lar^e a field to exercise 
Your active virtues offered you, to impart 
Your strength to such as need it. 

TimoL 'tis confessed : 
And, once yoaH have it so, such as I am, 
For you, and for the liberty of Greece, 
I tm most ready to lay down my life : 
Bat yet consider, men of Syracusa, 
Before that you deliver up the power 
(Which yet is yours) to me, to whom 'tis given ; 
To an pnpil^ 1 man, with whom nor threats 
Nor prayers shall e'er prevail ; for I must steer 
Ad even course. 

Arch. Which is desired of all. 

TimoL Timophaaes, my brother, for whose death 
I'm tainted in the world, and foully tainted ; 
in whose r ememb r ance I have ever worn, 
la peace and war, this livery of sorrow, 
Can witness for me, how much I detest 
Tyrannous usurpation; with grief 
I must remember it : For, .when no persuasion 
Could win him to desist from his bad practice, . 
To change the aristocracy of Corinth 
Into an absolute monarchy, I chose rather 
To prove a pious and obedient son 
To nay country, my best mother, than to lend 
Assistance to Timophanes, tho' my brother, 
That, like a tyrant, strove to set his foot 
Upon the city's freedom. 

Tuaag. Twas a deed 
Deserving rather trophies than reproof. 

Least. And will be still remembered to your 
honour, 
If you forsake us not. 

Dipk. If you free Sicily 
From barbarous Carthage' yoke, it will be said 
In him you slew a tyrant. 

AreJL But, giving way 
To her invasion, not vouchsafing us 
(That fly to vour protection) aid and comfort, 
Twill be believed, that for your private ends 
You killed a brother. 

TimoL As I then proceed, 
To afl posterity may that act be crowned 
With a deserved applause, or branded with 
The mark of infamy— Stay yet; ere I take 
This seat of justice, or engage myself 
To fight for you abroad, or to reform 
Your state at home, swear all upon my sword, 
And call the gods of Sicily to witness 
The oath you take ; that whatso'er I shall 
Propound for safety of your commonwealth, 
Not circumscribed or bound in, shall by you 
Be willingly obeyed. 

Arch. Dipk. Cleon. So may we prosper, 
As we obey in all things ! 



Tunog. Leot. Aso. And observe 
Allyour commands as oracles ! 

TimoL Do not repent it [Taket the State. 
First then, a word or two, but without bitterness, 
(And yet mistake me not, I am no flatterer) 
Concerning your government of the state. 
In which the greatest, noblest, and most rich, 
Stand, in the first file, guilty. 
Cleon. Ha ! how's this ? 
TimoL You have not, as good patriots shouhl 
do, studied 
The public good, but your particular ends ; 
Factious among yourselves, preferring such 
To offices and honours, as ne'er read 
The elements of saving policy; 
But deeply skilled in all the principles, 
That usher to destruction. 
Leost. Sharp. 
llmae. The better. 

TimoL Your senate-house, which used not to 
admit 
A man, however popular, to stand 
At the helm of government, whose youth was 

not 
Made glorious by action ; whose experience 
Crowned with grey heirs, gave warrant to his 

counsels, 
Heard and received with reverence; is now filled 
With green heads, that determine of the state 
Over their cups, or when their sated lusts 
Afford them leisure ; or supplied by those 
Who, rising from base arts and sordid thrift, 
Are eminent for wealth, not for their wisdom : 
Which is the reason that to hold a place 
In council, which was once esteemed an honour, 
And a reward for virtue, hath quite lost 
Lustre and reputation, and is made 
A mercenary purchase. 
Timag. He speaks home. 
Leost. And to the purpose. 
TimoL From whence i\ proceeds 
That the treasure of the city is ingrossed 
By a few private men, the public coffers 
Hollow with want ; and they* that will not spare 
One talent for the common good, to feed 
The pride and bravery of their wives, consume 
In plate, in jewels, and superfluous slaves, 
What would maintain an army. 
Cor. Have at us ! 
Olym. We thought we were forgot 
Cieora. But it appears 
You will be treated of. 

TimoL Yet in this plenty, 
And fat of peace, your young men ne'er were 

trained 
In martial discipline, and your ships unrigged 
Rot in the harbour : no defence prepared, 
But thought unuseful ; as if the gods, 
Indulgent to your sloth, had granted you 
A perpetuity of pride and pleasure, 
Nor change feared or expected. Now you find 
That Cartnage, looking on your stupid sleeps, 



56 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[MAS3INGBft« 



And dull security, was invited to 
Invade your territories. 

Arch, You've made us see, sir, 
To our shame, the country's sickness : Now from 

vou > 
As from a careful and a wise physician, 

We do expect the cure. 

TimoL Old festered sores 
Must be lanced to the quick and cauterized : 
Which, borne with patience, after I'll apply 
Soft unguents : For the maintenance of toe war, 
It is decreed all monies m the hands 
Of private men, shall instantly be brought 
To the public treasury. 

Timag. This bites sore. 

Cleon. The cure 
Is worse than the disease ; III never yield to it : 
What could the enemy, though victorious, 
Inflict more on us ? All that my youth had toiled 

for, 
Purchased with industry, and preserved with care, 
Forced from me in a moment ! 

Diph. This rough course 
Will never be allowed of. 

TimoL O blind men ! 
If you refuse the first means that is offered 
To give you health, no hope's left to recover 
Your desperate sickness. Do you prize your 

muck 
Above your liberties ; and rather choose 
To be made bondmen, than to part with that 
To which already you are slaves? Or can it 
Be probable in your flattering apprehensions, 
You can capitulate with the conqueror, 
And keep that yours which they come to possess, 
And, while you kneel in vain, will ravish from 

you? 
But take your own ways; brood upon your gold, 
Sacrifice to your idol, and preserve 
The prey entire, and merit the report 
Of careful stewards : Yield a just account ' 
To your proud masters, who with whips of iron 
Will force you to give up what you conceal, 
Or tear it from your throats: Adorn your walls 
With Persian hangings wrought of gold and 

pearl: 
Cover tne floors on which they are to tread, 
With costly Median silks; perfume the rooms 
With cassia and amber, where they are 
To feast and revel ; while, like servile grooms* 
You wait upon their trenchers ; feed their eyes 
With massy plate, until your cupboards crack 
With the weight that they sustain ; set forth your 

wives 
And daughters in as varied shapes 
As there are nations, to provoke their lusts, 
And let them be embraced before your eyes, 
The object may content you ; and, to perfect 
Their entertainment, offer up your sons, 
And able men, for slaves ; while you, that are 
Unfit Cor labour, are spurned out to starve, 
Unpitied, in some desert, no friend by, 
Whose sorrow may spare one compassionate tear, 



In the remembrance of what once you were. 

Least. The blood turns. 

Timag. Observe how old Cleon shakes, 
As if in picture he had shown him what 
He was to suffer. 

Cor. I am sick ; the man 
Speaks poignards and diseases. 

Olymp. Oh ! my doctor ! 
I never shall recover. 

Cleora. If a virgin, 
Whose speech was ever yet ushered with ear ; 
One knowing modesty and humble silence 
To be the choicest ornaments of our sex, 
In the presence of so many reverend men, 
Struck dumb with terror and astonishment, 
Presume to clothe her thought in vocal sounds. 
Let her find pardon. First, to you, great sir ! 
A bashful maid's thanks, and her zealous prayers 
Winged with pure innocence bearing them t» 

heaven, 
For all prosperity that the gods can give 
To one whose piety must exact their eare ; 
Thus low I offer. 

TimoL Tis a happy omen. 
Rise, blest one, and speak boldly : On my virtue 
I am thy warrant, from so clear a spring 
Sweet rivers ever flow. 

Cleora. Then thus to you, 
My noble father, and these lords, to whom 
I next owe duty ; no respect forgotten 
To you, my brother, ana these bold young men 
(Such J would have them) that are, or should be, 
The city's sword and target of defence ; 
To all of you I speak ; and, if a blush 
Steal on my cheeks, it is shown to reprove 
Your paleness (willingly I would not say 
Your cowardice or fear). Think you aU treasure 
Hid in the bowels of the earth, or shipwrecked 
In Neptune's watrv kingdom, can hold weight, 
When liberty and honour fill one scale, 
Triumphant justice sitting on the beam ? 
Or dare you but imagine that your gold is 
Too dear a salary for such as hazard 
Their blood and lives in your defence ? For me 
An ignorant girl, bear witness, heaven ! So rar 
I prize a soldier, that, to give him pay, 
With such devotion as our Flamens offer 
Their sacrifices at the holy altar, 
I do lay down these jewels, will make sale 
Of my superfluous wardrobe, to supply 
The meanest of their wants. 

TimoL Brave masculine spirit ! 

Diph. We are shown, to our shame, what we 
in honour 
Should have taught others, 

Arch. Such a fair example 
Must needs be followed. 

Timag. Ever my dear sister, 
But now our family's glory. 

Leost. Were she deformed, 
The virtues of her mind would force a stoic 
To sue to be her servant 
Cleorii I must yield ; 



Massihgrb,] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



59 



And, though my hart-blood part with it, I will 
Deliver m my wealth. 

Ami. I would say something ; 
Bat, the truth is, I know not what 

TlmoL We have money; 
And men mast now be thought on. 

Arch. We can press 
Of labourers in the country (men mated 
To cold and heat) ten thousand, 

Diph. Or, if need be, 
Inrol of slaves, lusty and able varlets, 
And fit for service. 

Citsm. They shall go for me ; 
I will not pay and fight too. 

Clear*. How ! your slaves? 

stain of honour ! Once more, sir, your pardon ; 
And to their shames let me deliver wnat 

1 know injustice you may speak. 

TtmoL Most gladly : 
I could not wish my thoughts a better organ 
loan your tongue to express them. 

Cfaors. Are you men ? 
(For age may qualify, though not excuse, 
The backwardness of these) able young men ? 
Yet, now your country's liberty's at stake; 
Honour and glorious triumph made a garland 
For such as dare deserve them ; a rich feast 
Prepared by Victory, of immortal viands, 
Not for base men, but such as with their swords 
Dare force admittance, and will be her guests ; 
And can you coldly suner such rewards 
To be proposed to labourers and slaves ? 
While ? ou, that are born noble (to whom these, 
Valued at their best rate, are next to horses, 
Or other beasts of carriage) cry, Ay me ! 
Like idle lookers on, till their proud worth 
Make them become your masters? 

TmoL By my hopes, 
There's fire and spirit enough in this to make 
Thershes valiant. 

Ckora. No; far, far be it from you : 
Let those of meaner quality contend, 
Who can endure most labour ; plow tbe earth, 
And think they are rewarded when their sweat 
Brings home a fruitful harvest to their lords ; 
Let them prove good artificers, and serve you 
For use and ornament; but not presume 
To touch at what is noble : if you think them 
Unworthy to* taste of those cotes you feed on, 
Or wear such costly garments, will you grant them 
The privilege and prerogative of great minds, 
Which you were born to ? Honour won in war, • 
And to be styled preserver* of their country, 
Are tides fit for free and generous spirits, 
And not for bondmen. Had I been born a man, 
And such ne'er-dying glories made the prize 
To bold heroic courage, by Diana, 
Iwoojd not to my brother, nay, my fatlicr, 
Be bribed to part with the piece of honour 
1 should gain in this actioiii 



TunoL She's inspired, 
Or in her speaks the genius of your country, 
To fire your blood in her defence : I am rapped 
With the imagination. — Noble maid, 
Timoleon is your soldier, and will sweat 
Drops of his best blood, but he will bring home 
Triumphant conquest to you. ' Let me wear 
Your colours, lady ; and, though youthful heats, 
That look no farmer than your outward form, 
Are long since buried in me, while I live, 
I am a constant lover of your mind, 
That does transcend all other precedents. 

Cleora. Tis an honour, [Gives her semrf. 

And so I do receive it. 

Cor. Plague upon it ! 
She has got the start of us : I could even burst 
With envy at her fortune, 

Olym. A raw young thing ! 
We've too much tongue sometimes, our husbands 

say; 
And she outstrip us ! 

Leott. I am tor the journey. 

Timag. May all diseases sloth and letchery 
brhni:, 
Fall upon him that stays at home. 

Arch. Though old, 
I will be there in person. 

DipL So will I. 
Methinks I am not what I was : Her woras 
Have made me younger by a score of years, 
Than I was when I came hither. 

Cleon. I am still 
Old Cleon, fat and unwieldy ; I shall never 
Make a good soldier, and therefore desire 
To be excused at home. 

Aso. Tis my suit too : 
I am a gristle, and these spider fingers 
Will never hold a sword. — Let us alone 
To rule the slaves at home, I can so yerk them; 
But in my conscience I shall never prove 
Good justice in the war. 

Timol. Have your desires ; 
You would be burdens to us, no way aids. 
Lead, fairest, to the temple ; first we'll pay 
A sacrifice to the gods for good success: 
For all great actions the wished course do run, 
That are, with their allowance, well begun. 

[Exeunt all but the skatt. 

Pis. Stay, Cimbrio and Gracculo. 

Cimb. The business? 

Pis. Meet me to-morrow night near to the grove, 
Neighbouring the east part of the city. 

Grac. Well. 

Pis. And bring the rest of our condition with 
you. 
I've something to impart may break our fetters, 
If you dare second me. 

Cimb. We'll not fail 

Grac. A cart-rope * 

Shall not bind me -at home. 

Pis. Think on\ and prosper. [Exeunf. 



ft> 



BRITISH DRAMA- 



[Massinger 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. 



pre- 



JEnter Archidamus, Timagoras, Leosthenes, 
with gorgets, and Pisander. 

Arch. So, so, 'tis well : How do I look ? 
Pis. Most sprightfully. 

Arch. I shrink not in the shoulders; though 
I'm old 
I'm tough ; steel to the back : I have not wasted 
My stock of strength in feather beds. Here's an 

arm too ; 
There's stuff in't, and I hope will use a sword 
As well as any beardless boy of you all. 
Timag. I'm glad to see you, sir, so well 
pared 
To endure the travail of the war. 

Arch. Go to, sirrah ! 
I shall endure, when some of you keep your ca- 
bins, 
For all your flaunting feathers. Nay, Leosthenes, 
You're welcome too, all friends and fellows now. 
Leost. Your servant, sir. 
Arch. Pish ! leave these compliments, 
They stink in a soldier's mouth ; I could be merry, 
(For, now my gown's oflj farewel gravity), 
And must be bold to put a question to you, 
Without offence, I hope. 
Leost. Sir, what you please. 
Arch. And you will answer truly ? 
Timag. On our words, sir. 
Arch. Go to, then ! I presume you will confess 
That you are two notorious whoremasters. 
Nay, spare your blushing, I've been wild myself. 

Leost. Say we grant this, 
(For if we should deny it you'll not believe us) 
What will you infer upon it? 

Arch. What you'll groan for, 
I fear, when you come to the test. Old stories 

tell us, 
There's a month called October, which brings in 
Cold weather; there are trenches too, 'tis ru- 
moured, 
la which to stand all night to the knees in water, 
In gallants breeds the toothach ; there's a sport 

too, 
Named, lying perdue, do you mark me ? ('tis a 

game, 
Which you must learn to play at, now in these 

seasons) 
And choice variety of exercises, 
(Nay I come to you) and fasts, not for devotion ; 

Enter Diphilus and Cleora. 

O welcome, welcome ! 

You've cut off my discourse, bujt I will perfect 

My lecture in the camp. 

Diph. Come, we are stayed for; 
The general's afire for a remove, 
And longs to be in action. 



Arch. Tis my wish too. 
We must part Nay, no tears, my best Cleora ; 
I shall melt too, and that were ominous. 
Millions of blessings on thee ! All that's mine 
I give up to thy charge ; and, sirrah, look 
You with that care and reverence observe her, 
As you would pay to me. A kiss, farewell, girl ! 

Diph. Peace wait upon you, fair one ! 

[Exeunt Arch. Diph. and Pis. 

Timag. Twere impertinence 
To wish you to be careful of your honour, 
That ever keep in pay a guard about you 
Of faithful virtues. Farewell : friend, I leave you 
To wipe our kisses off; I know that lovers 
Part with more circumstance and ceremony ; 
Which I give way to. [Exit Timag. 

Leost, Tis a noble favour, 
For which I ever owe you. We're alone: 
But how I should begin, or in what language 
Speak the unwilling word of parting from you, 
I'm yet to learn. 

Cleora. And still continue ignorant; 
For I must be most cruel to myself. 
If I should teach you. 

Leost. Yet it must be spoken, 
Or you will chide my slackness : You have fired 

me 
With the heat of noble action to deserve you ; 
And the least spark of honour that took life 
From your sweet breath, still fanned by it and 

cherished, 
Must mount up in a glorious flame, or I 
Am much unworthy. 

Cleora. May it yet burn here. 
And; as a sea-mark, serve to guide true lovers 
(Tossed on the ocean of luxurious wishes) 
Safe from the rocks of lust, into the harbour 
Of pure affection, rising up an example 
Which after-times shall witness to our glory, 
First took from us beginning ! 

Leost. Tis a happiness 
My duty to my country, and mine honour, 
Cannot consent to ; besides, add to these, 
It was your pleasure, fortified by persuasion 
And strength of reason, for the general good* 
That I should go. 

Cleora. Alas ! I then was witty 
To plead against myself; and mine eye, fixed 
Upon the lull of honour, ne'er descended 
To look into the vale of certain dangers, 
Through which you were to cut your passage to k>. 

Leost. I'll stay at home, then. 

Cleora. No, that must not be ; 
For so, to serve my own ends, and to gain 
A petty wreath myself, I rob you of 
A certain triumph, which must fall upon yon, 
Or Virtue's turned a hand-maid to blind Fortune: 
How is my soul divided ! to confirm you 
In the opinion of the world most worthy 



Massihger.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



bl 



To be beloved (with me you're at the height, 
And can advance no farther), I must send you 
To ooart the goddess of stem war, who, if 
She see you with ray eyes, will ne'er return you, 
Bat grow enamoured of you. 

LtoU. Sweet, take comfort ! 
And what I offer you, you must vouchsafe me, 
Or I am wretched : All the dangers that 
I can encounter in the war are trifles ; 
My enemies abroad to be coutemned ; 
The dreadful foes, that have the power to hurt me, 
I lea«e at home with you. 
Citero. With me ? 
Least. Nay, in you. 
Id every part about you ; they are armed 
It fight against me. 
Cletrm. Where? 
Lent. There's no perfection 
That yoa are mistress of, but musters up 
A legMo against me, and all sworn 
To my destruction. 
Cleora. This is strange ! 
Ltost. But true, sweet : 
Eiceai of love can work such miracles. 
Upon mis ivory forehead are intrenched 
Ten thousand rivals, and these suns command 
Supplies from aH the world, on pain to forfeit 
Their comfortable beams; these ruby lips, 
A rich exchequer to assure their pay ; 
This hand, Sibylla's golden bough to guard them 
Through bell and horror to the Elysian springs ; 
Which who'll not venture for? and, should I name ' 
Sack as the virtues of your mind invite, 
Their numbers would be infinite. 

Clear*. Can you think 
I nay be tempted ? 

Ltatt. You were never proved. 
?<r me, I have conversed with you no farther 
Than would become a brother. I ne'er tuned 
Insse notes to your chaste ears; or brought rich 

presents 
For my artillery, to batter down 
The fortress of your honour ; nor endeavoured 
To make your blood run high at solemn feasts, 
With viands that provoke (the speeding philtres) : 
I worked no bawds to tempt you ; never practised 
The cunning and corrupting arts they study, 
That wander in the wild maze of desire ; 
Honest simplicity and truth were all 
The agents I employed ; and when I came 
To see you, it was with that reverence 
As I beheld the altars of the gods ; 
And Love, that came along with me, was taught 
To leave his arrows, and his torch behind, 
Quenched in my fear to give oftence. 

Cleora. And twas 
That modesty that took me and preserves me, 
like a fresh rose, in mine own natural sweetness; 
Which, sallied with the touch of impure hands, 
Loses both scent and beauty. 

LtoU. But, Cleora, 
When I am absent, as I must go from you, 



(Such is the cruelty of my fate) and leave you. 

Unguarded, to the violent assaults 

Of loose temptations ; when the memory 

Of my so many years of love and service, 

Is lost in other objects ; you are courted 

By such as keep a catalogue of their conquests 

Won upon credulous virgins ; when nor father 

Is here to awe you, brother to advise you, 

Nor your poor servant by, to keep such off, 

By lust instructed how to undermine 

And blow your chastity up; when your weak 

senses, 
At once assaulted, shall conspire against you, 
And play the traitors to your soul, your virtue : 
How can you stand ? 'Faith, though you full, and I 
The judge, before whom you then stood accused, 
I should acquit you. 

Cleora. Will you then confirm 
That love and jealousy, (hough of different na- 
tures, 
Must of necessity be twins ; the younger 
Created only to defeat the elder, 
And spoil him of his birthright? 'tis not well. 
But being to part, I will not chide, I will not ; 
Nor with one syllable or tear, express 
How deeply I am wounded with the arrows 
Of your distrust : But when that you shall hear 
At your return how I have borne myself, 
And what an austere penance I take on me, 
To satisfy your doubts : When, like a vestal, 
I shew you, to your shame, the fire still burning, 
Committed to my charge by true affection, 
The people joining with you in the wonder: 
When, by the glorious splendor of my sufferings, 
The prying eyes of jealousy are struck blind, 
The monster, too, that feeds on fears, even starved 
For want of seeming matter to accuse me, 
Expect, Leosthenes, a sharp reproof 
From my just anger. 
Leost. What will you do ? 
Cleora. Obey me, 
Or from this minute you're a stranger to me ; 
And do it without reply. — All-seeing sun, 
Thou witness of my innocence, thus I close 
Mine eyes against thy comfortable light, 
Till the return of this distrustful man. 

[Hie binds her eyes. 
Now bind them sure ;— nay, do it : if uncompelled 
I loose this knot, until the hands that made it 
Be pleased to untie it, may consuming plagues 
Fall heavy on me ! Pray you, guide me to your 

lips. 
This kiss, when you come back, shall be a virgin, 
To bid you welcome. — Nay, I have not done yet : 
I will continue dumb ; and, you once gone, 
No accent shall come from me: Now to my 

chamber; 
My tomb, if you miscarry : There I'll spend 
My hours in silent mourning, and thus much 
Shall be reported of me to my glory, 
And you confess it, whether I live or die, 
My chastity triumphs o'er your jealousy. [Exeunt. 

3 



62 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Mmsthge*. 



SCENE II. 

Enter Pisakder iwuJPoliphron, bringing forth 

a Table. ' 

Pis. Twill take, I warrant thee. 

Pol. You may do your pleasure ; 
But, in my judgment, better to make use of 
The present opportunity. 

Pis. No more. 

Pol. I'm silenced. 

Pis. More wine ; pr/thee drink hard, friend, 
And when we're hot, whatever I propound, 

Enter Cimbrio, Gracculo, and other Slaves. 

Second with vehemency.— Men of your words, all 

welcome ! 
Slaves use no ceremony; sit down, here's a health. 

Pol. Let it run round, fill every man his (glass. 

Grot. We look for no waiters : this b wine. 

Pis. The better, 
Strong, lusty wine. Drink deep; this juice will 

make us 
As free as our lords. 

Grac. But, if they find we taste it, 
We are all damned to the quarry during life, 
Without hope of redemption. 

Pis. Pish ! for that 
We'll talk anon : Another rouzc* we lose time ; 

[Drinks. 
When our low blood's wound up a little higher, 
111 offer my design : — nay, we are cold yet, 
These glassed contain nothing; — do me right, 

[Takes the bottle. 
As e'er you hope for liberty. Tis done bravely : 
How do you feel yourselves now ? 

Cim. I begin 
To have strange conundrums in my, head. 

Grac. And I 
To loath base water. I would be hanged in peace 

now, 
For one month of such holidays. 

Pis. An age, boys ; 
And yet defy the whip, if you are men, 
Or dare believe you've souls. 
Our lords are no" gods ? 

Grac. They are devils to us, I am sure. 

Pis. But subject to 
Cold, hunger, and diseases. 

Grac. In abundance : 
Your lord, that feels no ach in his chine at twenty, 
Forfeits his privilege ; how should their chirur- 

geons build else, 
Or ride on their foot-clothes? 

Pis. Equal Nature fashioned us 
All in one mould : The bear serves not the bear, 
Nor the wolf the wolf; 'twas odds of strength in 

• tyrants, 
That plucked the first link from the golden chain, 
With which that thing of things bound in the 

world. 
Why then, since we are taught, by their examples, 
To love our liberty, if not command, 



Should the strong serve- the weak, the fair de- 
formed ones? 
Or such at know the cause of things, pay tribute 
To ignorant fools ? All's but the outward gloss 
And pontic form that does distinguish us. 
Cimbrio, thou art a strong man ; if, in place 
Of carrying burthens, thou hadst been trained up 
In martial discipline, thou mighftt have proved 
A general, fit to lead and fight for Sicily, 
As fortunate as Timoleon. 

Cim. A little fighting 
Will serve a general's turn. 

Pis. Thou, Gracculo, 
Hast fluency of language, quick conceit ; 
And, I think, covered with a senator's robe, 
Formal ty set on the bench, thou wouldst appear 
As brave a senator 

Grac. Would I had lands, 
Or money to buy a place; and if I did not 
Sleep on the bench with die drowsiest of 'em, 
Play with my chain, 
Look on my watch when my guts chim'd twelve,. 

and wear 
A state beard, with my barber's help ; rank with 

them 
In their most choice peculiar gifts ; degrade me* 
And put me to drink water again, which (now 
I've tasted wine) were poison. 

Pis. Tis spoke nobly, 
And like a gown-man : — None of these, I think toe* 
But would prove good burghers. 

Grac. Hum ! the fools are modest : 
I know their insides. — Here's an ill-faced fellow 
(But that will not be seen in a dark shop), 
If he did not in a month learn to oot-swear, 
In the selling of his wares, the cunningeat trades- 
man 
In Syracusa, I've no skill. — Here's another, 
Observe but what a cozening look he has ; 
(Hold up thy head, man) if for drawing gallants 
Into mortgages for commodities, cheating heirs 
With your new counterfeit gold thread, and 

gummed velvets, 
He does not transcend all that went before him* 
Call in his patent. Pass the rest ; they'll all make 
Sufficient Beccos, and with their brow-antlers, 
Bear up the cap pf maintenance. 

Pis. Wt not pity, then, 
Men of such eminent virtues should be slaves ? 
Cim. Our fortune ! 
Pis. Tis your folly. Daring men 
Command, and make their fates. — Say, at this in- 
stant, 
I marked you out a way to liberty ; 
Possessed you of those blessingB our proud lords 
So long have surfeited in ; and, what is sweetest 
Ann you with power, by strong hand to avenge 
Your stripes, your unregarded toil, the pride, 
The insolence, of such as tread upon 
Your patient sufferings; fill your famished months 
With the fat and plenty of the land; redeem you 
From the dark vaW of servitude, and seat yon 



Hasbtngh.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



63 



Upon a til of happiness: What would you do 
To parcnase this, and more ? 

Qrwc Do any tiring : 
To bam a church or two, and dance by die light 

of it, 
Were bot a May-game. 

PoL I have a father living; 
Bot, if the cutting of his throat could work this, 
Be should excuse me. 

Cam. I would cat mine own, 
Rather than miss it, so I might but have 
A taste of it ere I die. 

PiL Be resolute men, 
Toa shall ran no such hazard ; nor groan under 
The burthen of such crying sins. 

Cob. The means? 

Grac I feel a woman's longing. 

PoL Do not torment us 
With expectation. 

.ft*. Thus then: Our proud masters, 
And aD the able freemen of the city 
Are gone unto the ware — 

PoL Observe but that 



Pii. Old men, and such as can make no resist- 
ance, 
Are only left at home. 

Grac. And the proud young fool, 
My master — If this take, I'll hamper him. 

Pis. Their arsenal, their treasure's in our power. 
If we have hearts to seize them. If our lords fall 
In the present action, the whole country's ours. 
Say they return victorious, we have means 
To keep the town against them ; at the worst 
To make our own conditions. Now, if you dare 
Fall on their daughters and their wives, break up 
Their iron chests, banquet on their rich beds, 
And carve yourselves of all delights and pleasures 
You have been barred from, with one voice cry 

with me, 
Liberty, liberty ! 

All. Liberty, liberty ! 

Pit. Go then, and take possession: Use all 
freedom ; 
But shed no blood.— So, this is well begun; 
But not to be commended till it be done. • 

[Exeunt all, crying liberty. 



ACT HI. 



SCENE I. 

Pi sander, and Tim and* a. 
Pit. Why, think you that I plot against my- 



self? 



; you are safe : These thickskinned 



I use as instruments to serve my ends, 

Pierce not my deep designs ; nor shall they dare 

To lift an arm against you. 

fin**. With your will : 
But turbulent spirits, raised beyond themselves, 
With ease are not so soon laid : They oft prove 
Dangerous to him that called them up. 

Pis. Tis true, 
la what is rashly undertook. Long since 
I have considered seriously their natures, 
Proceeded with mature advice, and know 
I hold their will and faculties in more awe 
Han I can do my own. Now, for their licence, 
And riot in die city, I can make 
A just defence and use : It may appear, too, 
A politic prevention of such ills 
As might with greater violence and danger 
Hereafter be attempted; though some smart for it 
It matters not : — However, I am resolved ; 
And sleep you with security. Holds Cleora 
Constant to her rash vow ? 

Tamm. Beyond belief; 
To me that see her hourly, it seems a fable. 
By signs I guess at her commands, and serve 

them 
With silence ; such her pleasure is made known 
By holding her fair hand thus. She eats little, 
Sleeps less, as I imagine : Once a-day 
I lead her to this gallery, where she walks 



Some half a dozen turns, and, having offered 
To her absent saint a sacrifice of sighs, 
She points back to her prison. 

Pu. Guide her hither, 
And make her understand the slaves revolt ; 
And with your utmost eloquence enlarge 
Their insolence and rapes done in the city. 
Forget not, too, I am their chief, and tell her 
You strongly think my extreme dotage on her. 
As I am Marullo, caused this sudden uproar 
To make way to enjoy her. 

Tanan. Punctually 
I will discharge my part. [Exit Ihnandra. 

Enter Poliphron. 

PoL O, sir, I sought you : 
You have missed the sport Hell, I think, is broke 

loose, 
There's such variety of all disorders. 
As leaping, shouting, drinking, dancing, whoring, 
Among the slaves; answered with crying, how- 
ling, 
By the citizens and their wives ; such a confusion 
(In a word, not to tire you), as I think 
The like was never read of. 

Pis. I share in 
The pleasure though Fm absent This is some 
Revenge for my disgrace. 

PoL But, sir, I fear, 
If your authority restrain them not, 
They'll fire the city, or kill one another, 
They are so apt to outrage ; neither know I 
Whether you wish it, and came therefore to 
Acquaint you with so much. 

Pis. I will among them ; 
But must not long be absent. 



L 



64 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massinger. 



Pol At your pleasure* 



[Exeunt. 



SCENE IL 



Cleora, Timandra, a chair, a shout within. 

Timan. They're at our gates, my heart ! af- 
frights and horrors 
Increase each minute : No way left to save us, 
No flattering hope to comfort us, or means 
By miracle to redeem us from base lust 
And lawless rapine ? are there gods, yet suffer 
Such innocent sweetness to be made the spoil 
Of brutish appetite ? Or, since they decree 
To ruin Nature's masterpiece (of which 
They bave not left one pattern), must they chuse, 
To set their tyranny off, slaves to pollute 
The spring of chastity, and poison it 
With their most loathed embraces? And of those 
lie that should offer up his life to guard it ? 
Marullo, cursed Marullo, your own bondman, 
Purchased to serve you, and fed by your favours. 
• [Cleora starts. 

Nay, start not : it is he ; he, the grand captain 
Of these libidinous beasts, that have not left 
One cruel act undone, that barbarous conquest 
Yet ever practised in a captive city. 
He, doating on your beauty, and to hare fellows 
In his foul sin, hath raised these mutinous slaves, 
Who have begun the game by violent rapes, 
Upon the wives and daughters of their lords : 
And he, to quench the fire of his base lust, 
By force comes to enjoy you : — Do not wring 

t Cleora wrings her hands. 
Your innocent hands, 'tis bootless ; use the means 
That may preserve you. Tis no crime to break 
A vow when you are forced to it ; shew your face, 
And with the majesty of commanding beauty 
Strike dead his loose affections. If that fail, 
Give liberty to your tongue, and use entreaties ; 
There cannot be a breast of flesh and blood, 
Or heart so made of flint, but must receive 
Impression from your words ; or eyes so stern, 
But from the clear reflection of your tears, 
Must melt, and bear them company : will you not 
Do these good offices to yourself? Poor I, then, 
Can only weep your fortune !— -Here he comes. 

Enter Pisakder, speaking at the door. 

Pis. He that advances 
A foot beyond this, comes upon my sword. 
You have had your ways, disturb not mine. 

Timan. Speak gently, 
Her fears may kill her else. 

Pis. Now Love inspire me ! 
Still shall this canopy of envious night 
Obscure my suns of comfort? And those dainties, 
Of purest white and red, which I take in at 
My greedy eyes, denied my famished senses ? 
The organs of your hearing are yet open ; 
And you infringe no vow, though you vouchsafe 
To give them warrant to convey unto 
Your understanding parts, the story of 
A tortured and despairing lover whom 



* 

Not fortune, but affection, marks your slave : 

[Cleora shake*. 
Shake not, best lady ! for, believe it, you are 
As far from danger as I am from force : 
All violence HI offer, tends no farther 
Than to relate my sufferings, which I dare not 
Presume to do, tail by some gracious sign 
You shew you're pleased to hear me. 

Timan. If you are, 
Hold forth your right-hand. 

[Cleora holds forth her right-hand. 

Pisan. So, tis done ; and I 
With my glad lips seal humbly on your foot, 
My soul's thanks for the favour : I forbear 
To tell you who I am, what wealth, what honour* 
I made exchange of, to become your servant : 
And, though I knew worthy Leosthenes 
(For sure he must be worthy, for whose love 
You have endured so much) to be my rival ; 
When rage and jealousy counselled me to kill him, 
(Which wen- 1 could have done with much 



ease, 



Than now, in fear to grieve you, I dare speak it) 
Love, seconded with duty, boldly told me, 
The man I hated, fair Cleora favoured : 
And that was his protection. [Cleora bows. 

Timan. See, she bows 
Her head, in sign of thankfulness. 

Pisan. He removed*, 
By the occasion of the war (my fires increasing 
By being closed and stopt up), frantic affection 
Prompted me to do something in his absence. 
That might deliver you into my power, 
Which you see is effected ; and even now, 
When my rebellious passions chide my dulne&s, 
And tell me how much I abuse my fortunes ; 
Now it is in my power to bear you hence, 

[Cleora starts. 
Or take my wishes here, (nay, fear not, mnHnw^ 
True love's a servant, brutish lust a tyrant, 
I dare not touch those viands that ne'er taste well, 
Bnt when they're freely offered): Only thus much. 
Be pleased I may speak in my own dear cause. 
Ana think it worthy your consideration 
I have loved truly (cannot say deserved ; 
Since duty must not take the name of merit), 
That I so far prize your content, before 
All blessings that my hope can fashion to me, 
That willingly I entertain despair, 
And for your sake embrace it For I know, 
This opportunity lost, by no endeavour 
The like can be recovered. To conclude, 
Forget not that I lose myself to save you- 
For what can I expect but death and torture, 
The war being ended ? And (what is a task 
Would trouble Hercules to undertake), 
I do deny you to myself, to give you 
A pure unspotted present to my rival. 
I've said : If it distaste not, best of virgins, 
Reward my temperance with some lawful favour, 
Though you contemn my person. 

[Cleora kneels, then pulls of her glove, 
and offers her hand to Pisander. 



Massinceb.] 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



65 



law. See, she kneels, 
And seems to call upon the gods to pay 
The debt she owes your virtue : To per fo r in 

which 
As a sore pledge of friendship she vouchsafes you 
liarngtoHind 

Pis. I am paid for aM ny waterings. 
Nov, when you please, pass to year private cham- 

Mj lore and doty, faithful guards, shall keep you 
[Makes a low courtesy as she goes off 
From afl disturbance ; and when you are sated 
With thinking of Leosthenes, as a fee 
Dm to my service, spare one sigh for me. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. 

Eater Leosthekes and TitfAGOBAS. 

Thee* 1 am so far from envy, 1 am proud 
Yoo hate outstripped me in the race of honour. 
Oh! 'twas a gteneu* day, and bravely won S 
Yob? bald performance gave such mere to 
Tirooteon's wise ejections, as the army 
Rea»doabifiR\ to whoas they stand most engaged 
For char so great saosessi 

Least . The tods first honoured, 
The glory be the general's ; /ns far from me 
To be hu rival 

Toug. Yon abase year fortune, 
To entertain her choice and gracious favours 
With a contracted brow ; plumed victory 
h tnaV painted with a. cheerful look, 
fiaoaUVa^aat torn proud msolente, 
And base dejection. 

host. O Timagoras ! 
Yoa only are acquainted with the cause, 
That loads my sad heart with a hill of lead ; 
Whose ponderous weight, neither my new-got ho- 
nour, 
Asasted by the general applause 
The soldiers crown ir^with, nor all war's dories, 
. Cao lessen or remove : and, would you please, 
Wiafcfe consideration, to remember, 
mm much I wronged Cleora's innocence 
With my rash doubts ; and what a grievous pen* 

ance 
3* did impose upon her tender sweetness, 
To plock away the vulture jealousy, 
'Wat fed upon my fiver, you cannot blame me, 
Bot call it a fit justice on myself, 
Though I resolve to be a stranger to 
The thought of- mirth or pleasure. 

Hoar. Too have redeemed 
The forfeit «£ your fank with such a ransom 
Of honourable action, as my sister 
Mast of necessity confess her sufferings 
- Vout 



Weighed down by your fair merits; and, when 

* she views you, 
Like a triumphant conqueror, carried through 
The streets of Syracusa, the glad people 
Pressing to meet voir, and the senators 
Contending who shall heap most honours on you ; 
The oxen, crowned withaarlands, led before you, 
Appointed for the sacrifice ; and the altars 
Smoaking with taenkftM incense to- the gods ; 
The soldiers chaunting loud hymns to your praise; 
The windows' filled with matrons and with virgin*, 
Throwing, ope* your head,, as you* jbbbs by, 
The choicest flowers,, and srlentiy invoking 
The queen of love, with their particular vows, 
To be theua^it worthy of you*; can Cleora, 
(Though in the glass of se&Leve, she behold 
Her best deserts) but with all joys acknowledge, 
What she endured was but a -noble trial 
You made of her adeetion ? and her anger, 
Rising from your too amorous fears, soon drenched 
Irr Lethe, and forgotten. 
Leost. If those glories 
You so set forth, were mine, they might plead for 

me: 
But I can lay no* chum to the least honour 
Which you with foul injustice ravish from her. 
Her beauty in me wrought a miracle, 
Taught me to aim at things beyond my power, 
Which her perfections purchased,, and gave to me 
From her free bounties; she inspired me with 
That valour which I dare not call mine own ; 
. And, from the fair reflectionr of her mind, 
| My soul received the sparkling beams of courage. 
'She, from the magaaine of her proper goodness, 
'Stocked me with- virtuous purposes; sentme forth 
•To trade for honour : and, she being the owner 
'Of the bark of my adventures, I must yield her 
A just account ot all, as bents a factor : 
And, howsoever others think me happy, 
And cry aloud, I have made a prosperous voyage, 
One frown of her dislike at my return, 
(Which, as a punishment for my faoh, I look for) 
.Strikes dead all comfort. 

Timag. Tush ! these fears are needless ; 
She cannot, must not, shall not be so cruel. 
j A free confession of a fault wins pardon, 
iBut, being seconded by desert, commands it. 
The general is your own, and sure my father 
Itiepents his harshness : for myself, I am 
Ever your creature ; one day shall be happy 
In your triumph and your marri a ge; 

Least. May it prove so, 
With her consent and pardon. 

Timag. Ever touching 
jOn that harsh string f she i» your owo> and you 
I Without disturbance seize on whatfr your due. 

[Exeunt. 
E 



66 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massingbi, 



act IV. 



SCENE I. 

Enter Pisander and Timahdra. 

Pis. She has her health, then ? 

Timan. Yes, sir, and, as often 
As I speak of you, lends attentive ear 
To all that I deliver ; nor seems tired, 
Though I dwell long on the relation of 
Your sufferings for her, heaping praise on praise 
On your unequalled temperance, and command 
You hold o'er your affections. 

Pis. To my wish : 
Have you acquainted her with the defeat 
Of the Carthaginians, and with what honours 
Lcosthenes comes crowned home ? 

Timan. With all care. 

Pis. And how does she receive it ? 

Timan, As I guess, 
With a seeming kind of joy : but yet appears not 
Transported, or proud of his happy fortune. 
But when I tell her of the certain ruin 
You must encounter with at their arrival 
In Syracuse, and that death with torments 
Must fall upon you, which you vet repent not, 
Esteeming it a glorious martyrdom, 
And a reward of pure unspotted love, 
Preserved in the white robe of innocence, 
Though she were in your power ; and, still spur- 
red on 
By insolent lust, you rather chose to suffer 
The fruit untasted, for whose glad possession 
You have called on the fury of your lord, 
Than that she should be grieved or tainted in 
Her reputation — 

Pis. Doth it work compunction ? 
Pities she my misfortune ? 

Timan. She expressed 
AU signs of sorrow, which, her vow observed, 
Could witness a grieved heart At the first 

hearing, 
She fell upon her face, rent her fair hair, 

Ser hands held up to heaven, and invented sighs, 
i which she silently seemed to complain 
Of heaven's injustice. 

Pis. Tis enough. Wait carefully, 
And, upon all watched occasions, continue 
Speech and discourse of me t Tis time must work 
her. 
Jlman. I'll not be wanting ; but still strive to 
serve you. [Exit Tim and. 

Enter Poliphron. 

Pis. Now, Poliphron, the news ? 

PoL The conquering army 
Is within ken, 

Pis. How brook the slaves the object ? 

PoL Cheerfully yet ; they do refuse no labour, 
And seem to scoff At danger : Tis your presence 
That must confirm them ; with a full consent 
You're chosen to relate the tyranny 
pf our proud masters ; and what you subscribe to 



They gladly will allow of, or hold out 
To the last man. 

Pis. Ill instantly among them : 
If we prove constant to ourselves, good fortune 
Will not, I hope, forsake us. 

Pol. Tis our best refuge. [Estunt 

SCENE n. 

Enter Timoleon, Archidamus, Diphilus, Lb- 
osthenes, Timagoras, and others. 

TimoL Thus far we are returned victorious; 
crowned 
With wreaths triumphant, (famine, blood and 

death 
Banished your peaceful confines) and bring home 
Security and peace. Tis therefore fit 
That such as boldly stood the shock of war, 
And with the dear expence of sweat and blood 
Have purchased honour, should with pleasure reap 
The harvest of their toil ; and we stand bound 
Out of the first file of the best dedervers, 
(Though all must be considered to their merits) 
To think of you, Leosthenes, that stand, 
And worthily, most dear in our esteem, 
For your heroic valour. 

Arch. When I look on 
(The labour of so many men and ages) 
This well-built city, not long since designed 
To spoil and rapine, by the favour of 
The gods, and you their ministers, preserved, 
I cannot, in my height of joy, but offer 
These tears for a glad sacrifice. 

Diph. Sleep the citizens ? 
Or are they overwhelmed with the excess 
Of comfort that flows to them ? 

Leost. We receive 
A silent entertainment 

Timag. I have long since 
Expected that the virgins and the matrons,. 
The old men striving with their age, the priests, 
Carrying the images of their gods before them, 
Should have met us with procession. Ha ! the gates 
Are shut against us ! 

Arch. And upon the walls 
Armed men seem to defy us ! 

Enter abate Pisander, Poliphron, Cimbbio, 

GraCCULO, ifC. 

Diph. I should know 
These faces. — They are our slaves. 

Timag. The mystery, rascals? 
Open the ports, and play not with an anger 
That will consume you. 

TimoL This is above wonder ! 

Arch. Our bondmen stand against us ? 

Grac. Some such things 
We were in man's remembrance. — The slaves arc 

turned 
Lords of the town, or so. — Nay, be not angry : 
Perhaps, on good terms, giving security 

3 



M&9S1N6B*.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



67 




You wiO be quiet men, we may allow you ' 
Some lodgings in oar garrets or out-houses : 
Your great looks cannot carry it 

Cimb. The truth is, 
We've been bold with your wives, toyed with your 

daughters 

Ltmt. my prophetic soul ? 
Grac. Rifled your chests, 
Been busy wkh your wardrobes. 
Tmag. Can we endure this ! 
Lata. 0! myCleora? 
Grue. A caudle for the gentleman ! 
Hell die of the pip else. 

Tmag. Scorned too ! Are you turned stone ? 
Bold parley with our bondmen ? Force our en- 
trance, 

Then, villains, expect 

TmoL Hold ! you wear men's, shapes, 
And if, like men, you've reason, shew a cause 
Tint leads you to this desperate course, which 

must end 
In toot destruction- 

Grac. That, as please the fates ; 
lfcft we vouchsafe. — Speak, captain 
Tmag. Hell and furies ! 
Arch. Bayed by our own curs ! 
Cimb. Take heed you be not worried. 
PoL We are sharp set. 
CM. And sudden. 
Fit Briefly thus then, 
Since I must speak for all. — Your tyranny 
Drew us from our obedience. Happy those times 
When lords were styled fathers of families, 
And not imperious masters! when they num- 
bered 
Their servants almost equal with their sons, 
Or one degree beneath them; when their labours 
Were cherished and rewarded, and a period 
Set to their sufferings; when they did not press 
Their duties or their wills beyond the power 
And strength of their performance; all things 

ordered 
Wkh such decorum, as wise law-makers, 
From each well-governed private house, derived 
The perfect model of a commonwealth. 
Humanity then lodged in the hearts of men, 
And thankful masters carefully provided 
For creatures wanting reason. The noble horse, 
That in bis fiery youth from his wide nostrils 
Neighed courage to his rider, and broke through 
Groves of opposed pikes, bearing his lord 
Safe to triumphant victory, old or wounded, 
Was set at liberty, and freed from service. 
The Athenian mules, that from the quarry drew 
Marble, hewed for the temples of the gods, . 
The great work ended, were dismissed, and fed 
At die public cost; nay, faithful dogs have found 
Their sepulchres ; but man, to man more crueL 
Appoints no end to the sufferings of his slave ; 
Snce pride stepped in and riot, and overturned 
This goodly frame of coneoruY teaching masters 
To gfory in the abuse of such as are 



Brought under their command ; who, grown un- 

useful, 
Are less esteemed than beasts. — This you have 

practised, 
Practised on us with rigour ; this hath forced us 
To shake our heavy yokes off; and, if redress 
Of these just grievances be not granted us, 
We'll right ourselves, ano> by strong hand defend 
What we are now possessed of. 

Grac. And not leave • 

One house unnred. 

Cimb. Or throat uncut of those 
We have in our power. 

Pol. Nor will we fall alone ; 
You shall buy us dearly. » 

Tmag. O the gods ! 
Unheard of insolence ? 

TimoL What are your demands ? 

Pis'. A general pardon, first, for all offences 
Committed in your absence : liberty 
To all such as desire to make return 
Into their countries ; and to those that stay, 
A competence of land freely allotted 
To each man's proper use; no lord acknowledged ; 
Lastly, with your consent, to chuse them wives 
Out of your families. 

Timag. Let the city sink first. 

Leost. And ruin seize on all, ere we subscribe 
To such conditions. 

Arch. Carthage, though victorious, 
Could not have forced more from us. 

Leost. Scale the wall ! 
Capitulate after. 

Timoi. He that wins the top first, 
Shall wear a mural wreath. [Exeunt. 

Pis, Each to his place. [Flourish and arms. 
Or death or victory. — Charge diem home, and 
fear not 

Enter Timoleon, Archidamus, and Senators. 

iimol. We wrong ourselves, and we are justly 
punished, 
To deal with bondmen, as if we encountered 
An equal enemy. 

Arch. They fight like devils ; 
.And run upon our swords, as if their breasts 
Were proof beyond their armour. 

Enter Leosthenes and Timagoras. 
Timag. Make a firm stand.- 



The slaves, not satisfied they've beat us oflj 
Prepare to sally forth, 

TimoL They arc wild beasts, 
And to be tamed by policy.— Each man take 
A tough whip in hjs l^and, such as you used 
To punish them with as masters : In your looks 
Carry severity and awe ; 'twill frighten them 
More than your weapons : Savage lions fly from 
The sight of fire ; and these that have forgot 
That duty you ne'er taught them witty your swords, 
When, unexpected, they behold those terrors* 
Advanced aloft, that they were made to shake afe 



I 



68 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[MASSMGEft. 



Twill force tfiem to g ew e wrtier What they are, 
And stoop to due obedience. 

Enter Cimbrio, Gracculo, ond other Slaves. 

Arch. Here they come. 

Cimb. Leave not a man alive : A wound is but 
a flea-biting, 
To what we suffered being slaves. 

Grac. O, my heart ! 
Cimbrio, what do we see ? the whip ! our masters ! 

Tunag. Dare you rebel, slaves ! 
[Senators shake their whips, and they throw 
away their weapons, and run of. 

Cimb. Mercy ! mercy : where 
Shall we hide us from their fury ! 

Grac. fly ! they follow. 
Oh ! we shall be tormented. 

Ttmol. Enter with them, 
But yet forbear to kill them. Still remember 
They are part of your wealth; and being disarmed, 
There is no danger. 

Arch. Let ds first deliver 
Such as they have in fetters, and at leisure 
Determine of their punishment. 

Least. Friend, to you 
I leave the disposition of what's mine : 
I cannot think 1 am 6afe without your sister. 
She's only worth my thought: and till I see 
What she has suffered I am on the rack, 
And furies my tormentors. [Exeunt. 

SCENE HI. 

Enter Pibakpeb and Timamdra. 

Pis. I know I am pursued ; nor would I fly, 
Although the ports were open, and a convoy 
Ready to bring me off— The baseness of 
These villains, from the pride of all my hopes,. 
Has thrown me to the bottomless abyss 
Of horror and despair. Had they stood firm, 
I could have bought Cleora's free consent 
With the safety of her father's .life and brother's; 
And forced Leosthenes to quit his claim, 
And kneel a suitor to me. 

Timan. You must not think 
What misjht have been, but what must now be 

practised, 
And suddenly resolve. 

Pis. All my poor fortunes 
Arc at the stake, and I must run the hazard. 
Unseen, convey me to Cleora's chamber ; 
For, in her sight, if it were possible, 
I would be apprehended, — Do not enquire 
The reason why, but help me. 

Timan. Make haste— One knocks. 

[frit Pitandtr . 

Enter Leobthxwes. 

Jove turn all to the best! — You are welcome, sir. 

Least. Thou givest it in a heavy tone. 

Timan. Alas! sir, 
We have so long fed on the bread of sorrow, 



Drinking the bitter water of afflictions, 
Made loathsome too by our continued fears. 
Comfort's a stranger to us. 

Least. Fears ? Your sufferings, 
For which I am so overgone with grief, 
I dare not ask, without compassionate tears, 
The villain's name, that robbed thee of thy Ik* 

nour; 
For being trained up in chastity's cold school. 
And taught by such a mistress as Cleora, 
Twere impious in me to think Timandra 
Fell with her own consent 

Timan. How mean you ? Fell, sir ! 
I understand you not. 

Leost. I would thou did'st not, 
Or that I could not read upon thy face, 
In blushing characters, the story of 
Libidinous rape. — Confess it, for you stand not 
Accountable for a sin, against whose strength 
Your overmatched innocence could make no 



sitance, 
Under, which odds I know Cleora fell too, 
Heaven's help in vain invoked ! — the amazed sun, 
Hiding his face behind a mask of clouds, 
Not oaring to look on it — In her sufferings 
All sorrow's comprdiended. — What Timandra, 
Or the city, has endured, her loss considered, 
Deserves not to be named. 

Timan. Pray you, do not brine, sir, 
In the chimeras of your jealous fears, 
New monsters to affright us. 

Least. O Timandra, 
That I had faith enough but to believe thee ! 
I should receive it with a joy beyond 
Assurance of Elysian shades hereafter, 
Or all the blessings in this life a mother 
Could wish her children crowned with. — But I 

must not 
Credit impossibilities ; yet I strive 
To find out that, whose knowledge is a curse, 
And ignorance a blessing. — Come, discover 
What kind of look he had that forced thy lady, 
(Thy ravisher I will enquire at leisure) 
That when hereafter I behold a stranger 
But near him in aspect, I may conclude 
(Though men and angels should proclaim ham he** 

nest) 
He is a hell-bred villain. 

Timan. You are unworthy 
To know she is preserved, preserved untainted. 
Sorrow (but ill bestowed) hath only made 
A rape upon her comforts in your absence. 

[Exit, and returns] with Clear*. 
Come forth, dear madam. 

Least. Ha ! [Kneels. 

Timan. Nay, she deserves 
The bending of your heart, that to content you, 
Has kept a vow, the breach of which a vestal 
(Though the infringing k had called upon her 
A living funeral) must of force have snraak «t» 
No danger could compel her to dispense with 
Her cruel penance ; though hot lust came tinea) 



Mabsihw*.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



ft} 



Tow* upon her; when one look or went 
Might have redeemed her. 

Zorf. Might ? O do not shew me 
A beun of comfort, and straight take it from me. 

The means by which she was freed ? Speak, 

O speak riuickl y ! 
Each miaote of delay's an age of tonaent : 
0! speak, Thnandra ! 

Rata. Free her from the oath ; 
Herself can best deliver it. [Take* off the scar/. 

Lett. West office ! 
Never did galley-slave shake off his chains, 
Or look on bis redemption from the oar, 
With such trne feeling of delight as now 
I find myself possessed of. — Now I behold 
Tree light indeed : For, since these fairest stars 
(Corered with clouds of your determinate will) 
Denied their influence to my optic sense, 
The splendor of the sua appeared to me 
Bat as tome little glimpse of his bright beams 
Conveyed into a dungeon, to remember 
The dark inhabitants there how much they wanted. 
Open these long-shut lips *»d strike mine ears 
With mnsic more harmonious than the spherea 
Yield in their heavenly motions : And, if ever 
A tree sobmisson for a crime acknowledged 
May nod a gracious hearing, teach your tongue, 
la the first sweet articulate sounds it alters, 
To sign my wished-for pardon. 

Clara. I forgive you. 

I«* '. Howgjee^ylrecekeiJ*! Star, best 
lady, 
And let me by degrees ascend the height 
Of human happiness ! All at once dehveied, 
The torrent ofmy joys will overwhelm me ; — 
So, now a little more ; and pray exc u s e me, 
H like a wanton epicure, I desire 
The pleasant taste these cares of comfort yield 
K me, 

Swuld not too soon be swallowed. Hanre you not 
(BV your unspotted truth I do conjure yo» 
To answer truly) suffered in your honour, 
(By force, I mean, for in your will I free yen) 
Since I left Syracusa? 

Ctcoro. I restore 
This kiss, (so help me* goodness !) which. I bor- 
rowed 
When I last saw you. 

Ltott. Miracle of virtue ! 
One pause more, I beseech you >— I am like 
A man, whose vital spirit, coa/wimed and wasted 
With a long and tedious fever, unto whom. 
Too much of a strong cordial at once taken, 
Brings death, and not restores him. Yet L can- 
not 
fa here; hot most enqmietr* areata wium 
I stand indebted for a benefit 
Which to requite at full, though, in this hand 
I Eratped all scepters the world's ernpiae bows ta> 
Would leave mc a poor bankDupt--Namc him, 

lady; 
M of a mean estate, ni gladly, past with. 



My utmost fortunes to hnm»--bet if riotde* 
In thankful duty study how to serve hints 
Or, if of higher rank, erect him altars, 
And as a god adore him. 

Cleoro, If that goodness 
And noble temperance, the queen of virtue** 
Bridling rebellions passions (to whose sway 
Such as have conquered nations have lived slaves) 
Did ever wing great minds to fly to heaven ; 
He, that preserved mine honour, may hope bokfly* 
To fill a seat among the gods, and shake off 
Our frail corruption. 

Lcost. Forward. 

Ctcoro, Or if ever 
The powers above did mask in human ahnp*% 
To teach mortality, not by cold precept* 
Forgot as soon at told, but by examples 
To imitate their pureness, and draw near 
To their cekstinJ natures— I believe 
He's more than man. 

Leost* You do describe a wonder. 

Clewa. Which will increase, when you shall un- 
derstand 
He was a lover. 

Leost. Not yours, lady r 

Chora. Yes; 
Loved me, Leosthenes ; nay more, so* doted, 
(If e'er elections scorning gross desires 
May without wrong be styled so; that be dacst not 
Withi an immodest syllable or look, 
In fear it might take from me, whom he made 
The object or* his better pact, discover 
I was the saint he sued to. 

Leost, A rate temper ! 

CUeru. I cannot speak it to the worth : All praise 
I can Destow upon it, will appear 
Envious detraction. Not to rack yon further, 
Yet make the miracle full ; though, of all men, 
He hated you, Leosthenes, as his rival; 
So high yet prized he my content, that, knowing 
You were a man I favoured* he disdained net 
Against himself to* serve toe* 

Least. Yew conceal stttt 
To owner of these eacellenciea, 

C/earw. Tb Manilla^ 
My father's bondman. 

j£***f • Ha, hav ha ! 

Chora. Why do you laugh ? 

1mm t. To hear the Ubonring. meentaia at* yout 
praise 
Delivered of a mouse. 

Cfeorm. The man deserve* not 
Thia sennit I do assure you. 

Leott. Do you call 
What was hi* duty merit? 
. Cleora. Yes, and place it 
As high in my esteem, as all the honours 
Descended from your ancestors, or the glory, 
| Which you< may call your ovt n, got in this action, 
In which, I must .confess, you have done nobly, 
And, I would add, a* I desired;? 
I fear 'twould make you **ouaV 



70 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massingk*. 



Leost. Why, lady, can you 
Be won- to give allowance that your slave 
Should dare to. love you ? 

Cleora. The immortal gods 
Accept the meanest altars that are raised 
By pure devotion ; and sometimes prefer 
An ounce of frankincense, honey or milk, 
Before whole hecatombs, or Sabaean gums, 
Offered in ostentation. — Are you sick [Aside. 
Of your old disease ? I'll fit you. 

Leost. You seem moved. 

Cleora. Zealous, I grant, m tne defence of 
virtue. 
Why, good Leosthenes, though I endured 
A penance for your sake above example, 
I have not so far sold myself, I take it, 
To be at your devotion, but I may 
Cherish desert in others, where I find it. , 
How would you tyrannize, if you stood possessed 

of 
That, which is only yours in expectation, 
That now prescribe such hard conditions to me ? 

Leost. One kiss, and I am silenced. 

Cleora. I vouchsafe it; 
Yet, I must tell you 'tis a favour that 
Marullo, when I was his, not mine own, 
Durst not presume to ask : No ; when the city 
Bowed humbly to licentious rapes and lust, 
And when I was, of men and gods- forsaken, 
Delivered to his power, he did not press me 
To grace him with one look or syllable, 
Or urged the dispensation of on oath, 
Made for your satisfaction — The poor wretch 
Having related only his own sufferings, • 
And kissed my hand, which I could not deny him, 
Defending me from others, never since 
Solicited my favours* 
. , Leost. Pray you end ; 
The story does not please me. 

Cleora. Well, take heed 
Of doubts and fears ; — for know, Leosthenes, 
A greater injury cannot be offered 
To innocent chastity than unjust suspicion. 
I love Marullo's fair mind, not his person ; 
Let that secure you. And I here command you, 
If I have any power in you, to stand 
Between him and all punishment, and oppose 

His temperance to his folly ; if you fail- - 

No more ; I will not threaten. . [Exit. 

Leost. What a bridge 
Of glass I walk upon, over a river 
Of certain ruin ! Mine own weighty fears 
Cracking what should support me :— And those 

helps, 
Which confidence yields to others, are from me 
Ravished by doubts and wilful jealousy. [Exit. 

SCENE IV. 

Enter Timagoras, Cleon, Asotus, Cobisca, 

and Olympia. 

Cleon. But are you sure we're safe ? 
Ttmog. You need not fear ; • 



They are all under guard ; their fangs pared off: 
The wounds their insolence gave you, to be cured 
With the balm of your revenge. 

Asot. And shall I be 
The thing I was born, my lord ? 

Timag. The same wise thing 

'Slight, what a beast they nave made thee! 

Africk never 
Produced the like. 

Asot. I think so. — Nor die land 
Where apes and monkeys* grow, like crabs and 

walnuts 
On the same tree. Not all the catalogue 
Of conjurers or wise women, bound together, 
Could have so soon transformed me, as my rascal 
Did with his whip ; Not in outside only, 
But in my own belief, I thought myself 
As perfect a baboo n 

Timag. An ass thou wert ever. 

Asot. And would have given one leg, with all 
my heart, 
For good security to have been a man 
After three lives, or one and twenty years, 
Though I had died on crutches. 

Cleon. Never varlets 
So triumphed o'er an old fat man — I was famished. 

Timag. Indeed you are fallen away. 

Asot. Three years of feeding 
On cullises and jelly, though his cooks 
Lard all he eats with marrow, or his doctors 
Pour in his mouth restoratives as he sleeps, 
Will not recover him. 
• Timag. How now, friend ? 
Looks our Cleora lovely ? 

Enter Leosthenes, and Diphilus, with • 

guard. 

Leost. In my thoughts, sir. 

Timag. But why this guard ? 

Diph. It is Timoleon's pleasure ; 
The slaves have been examined, and confess, 
Their riot took beginning from your house ; 
And the first mover of theni to rebellion, 
Your slave Marullo. 

Leost. Ha ! I more than fear- 

Thhag. They may search boldly. 

Enter Timandra. 

Titnan. You are unmannered grooms 
To pry into my lady's private lodgings ; 
There's no Marullos there. 

Enter' Diphilus with Pisander. 

Timag. Now I suspect too ; 
Where found you him ? 

Diph. Close hid in your sisters chamber** 

Timag. Is that the villain's sanctuary ? 

Leost. This confirms 
All she delivered, false. 

Timag. But that I scorn 
To rust my sword in thy slavish blooey 
Thou now' wert dead. 



Mabsikoul] 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



ri 



He's more a slave than fortune 
Or amy can make me, that insults 
Upon anweaponed innocence. 

Timg . Prate, you dog ! 

Pit. Curs snap at lions in the toil, whose looks 
Frighted them, being free. 

Tbsuf. As a wild beast, 
Drive him before too. 

Pit. O divine Cleora ! 

Least Darest thou presume to name her ? 

Pa. Yes, and lore her : 
And may say hare deserved her. 

Tfmag. Stop his mouth : 
Load bun with irons too. 

[Exit guard with Pitand. 

Clem. I am deadly sick 



To look on him. 

Ant. If he get loose, I know it, 
I caper like an ape again — I feel 
The whip already. 

Timan. This goes to my lady. [Aside. 

Timag. Come, cheer you, sir; we will urge his 
punishment 
To the full satisfaction of your anger. 

Leott. He is not worth my thoughts* No cor- 
ner left 
In all the spacious rooms of my vexed heart, 
But is filled with Cleora : and the rape 
She has done upon her honour, with my wrong, 
The heavy burthen of my sorrow's song. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. 

Enter Abchidamus and Cleora. 
Anh. Thou art thine own disposer. Were his 



And glories centupled, (as I must confess, 
I/remencs is most worthy) yet I will not, 
However I may counsel, force affection. 
Ckara. It needs not, sir ; I prize him to bis 
worth, 
Nay, love him truly ; yet would not live slaved 
To ms jealous humours : since, by the hopes of 

heaven, 
Asl am free from violence, in a thought 
I am not guilty. 

Arch. Tls believed, Cleora ; 
And much the rather (our great gods be praised 

for it), 
In that I find, beyond my hopes, no sign 
Of riot in my house, but all things ordered 
As if I had been present. 

Cleora. May that move you 
To pity poor Marullo. 

Arc*. "Us my purpose 
To do him all the good I can, Cleora : 
But this offence, being against the state, 
Mast have a public trial. In the mean time, 
Be careful of yourself, and stand engaged 
No farther to Leosthenes, than you may 
Cone off with honour i for, being once his wife, 
Yon are no more your own, nor mine, but must 
Resotre to serve and suffer his commands, 
And not dispute them; ere it be too late, 
Consider it duly. I must to the senate. 

[Exit Arch. 
Clean. I am much distracted ; in Leosthenes 
I can find nothing justly to accuse, 
Bat this excess of love, which I have studied 
To cure with more than common means; yet still 
It grows upon him. And, if I may call 
His Mifiwingg merit, I stand bound to think on 
ManuWs dangers ; though I save his life* 



His love is unrewarded. I confess, 

Both have deserved me ; yet of force I must be 

Unjust to one — such is my destiny* 

Enter Timandra. 

How now? whence flow these tears? 

Timan. I have met, madam, 
An object of such cruelty, as would force 
A savage to compassion. 

Cleora. Speak ! What is it ? 

Timan. Men pity beasts of rapine, if over- 
matched, 
Though baited for their pleasure : but these mon- 
sters, 
Upon a man that can make no resistance, 
Are senseless in their tyranny. Let it be granted, 
Marullo is a slave ; he is still a man ; 
A capital offender; yet injustice 
Not to be tortured, till the judge pronounce 
His punishment. 

Cleora. Where is he ? 

Timan, Dragged to prison 
With more than barbarous violence; spurned and 

spit on 
By the insulting officers, his hands 
Pinioned behind his back ; loaden with fetters ; 
Yet, with a saint-like patience, he still often 
His face to their rude buffets. 

Cleora. O my grieved soul ! 
By whose command ? 

Timan, It seems, my lord your brother, 
For he is a looker on : and it takes from. 
Honoured Leosthenes Xo suffer it, 
For his respects to you, whose name in vain 
The grieved wretch loudly calls on. 

Cleora. By Diana, 
lis base in both, and to their teeth I will tell 

them 
That I am wronged in it. 

Timan. What will you do i [As going forth* 

Cleora. In person 
Visit and comfort him. 



72 



BRITISH MUMA. 



[MASSIV££K» 



Timan. That will bring fuel . 
To the jealous fires, which burin 490 bat akeady 
In lord Leosthenes. 

Cleora. Let them consume him ! 
J am mistress of myself. Where cruelty reigns, 
There dwells no lave nor honour. [Exit Cleora. 

Timan, So, it works. 
Though hitherto I have run a desperate course 
To serve my heather's purposes, now 'tisJ&t 

Enter Leosthenes and Jixagok&s. 

I study mine own ends. They come. Assist me 
In these my undertakings, love's great patron, 
As my intents ace honest. 

Lco&t. Tis my fault. 
Distrust of others springs, Timagoras, 
From diffidence in ourselves. But I will strive, 
With the assurance of my worth and merits, 
To kill this monster jealousy. 

Timag. Tis a guest, 
In wisdom, never to be entertained 
On trivial prob^ilities ; but when 
He does appear in pregnant proofs, not fashioned 
By idle doubts and fears, to oe received. 
They make their own horns that are too secure, 
As well as such as five them growth and being 
From mere imagination. Though I prize 
Cleora's honour equal with mine own ; 
And know what large additions of power 
Tins match brings to our family, I prefer 
Our friendship, and your peace of mind, so far 
Above my own respects or hers, that if 
She hold not her true value in the test, 
Tis far from my ambition for her cure, 
That you should wound yourself. 

Timan. This argues for me. [Aside. 

Timag. Why she should be so passionate for a 
bondman, 
Falls not in compass of my understanding, 
But for some nearer interest; or he raise 
This mutiny, if he loved her (as, you say, 
She does confess he did), but to enjoy. . 
By fair or foul play, what he ventured for, 
To me is a riddle. 

Least. I pray you, no more ; already 
I have answered that objection, in my strong 
Assurance of her virtue. 

Timag. Tis unfit, then, 
That I should press it farther. 

Timan. Now I must 

[Timandra $tep$ out distractedly. 
Make in, or all is lost 

Timag. What would Timandra ? 

Le#$t. JIow wild she looks ! How is it with thy 
lady? 

Timag. Collect thyself and speak. 

Timan. As you are noble, 
Have pity, or love pity. Oh ! 

Least. Take breath. 

Timag. Out with it boldly. 

Timan. Oh ! the best of ladies, 
I fear, is gone for ever. 



Leost. Who, Cleora? 

Timag. Deliver, how. ^Sdeafth, be a man, sir ! 
speak. 

Timan. Take it, then, in as many sighs as words : 
My lady— — 

Timag. What of her? 

Timan. No sooner heacd 
Marullo was imprisoned, but she feH 
Into a deadly swoon. 

Timag. But she recovered ? 
Say so, or he will sink too : hold, sir ! fie, 
This is unmanly. 

Timan. Brought again to life. 
But with much labour, she awhile stood silent, 
Yet in that interim vented sighs, as if 
They laboured from the prison of her flesh, ' 
To give her grieved soul freedom. On the sudden, 
Transported on the wings of rage and sorrow, 
She flew out of the house, and, unattended, 
Entered the common prison. 

Leost. This confirms 
What but before I feared. 

Timan. There you may find her ; 
And, if you love her as a siste r . - 

Timag. Damn her ! 

Timan. Or you respect her safety, as a loref> 
Procure Marullo's liberty. 

Timag. Impudence 
Beyond expression ! 

Leost. Snail I be a bawd 
To her lust and ray dishonour ? 

Timan. She will run mad, else, 
Or do some violent act upon herself. 
My lord, her father, sensible of her sufferings, 
Labours to gain his freedom. 

Leost. O, the devil ! 
Has she bewitched him too ? 

Timag. I will hear no more : 
Come, sir, we will follow her; and if no persua-* 

sion 
Can make her take again her natural form, 
Which by lust's powerful spell she has cast off, 
This sword shall disenchant her. 

Leost. O my heart-strings ! 

[Exeunt Leosthenes and Timagoras. 
new it would take. Pardon me, 
fair Cleora, 
Though I appear aJraitoress ; which thou wilt do, 
In pity of my woes, when I make known 
My lawful claim, and only seek mine own. [Exit. 

SCENE 1L—A Prison. 

Enter Cleora, Jailor, and Pisasder. 

Cleora. There's for your privacy. — Stay, un- 
bind his hands. 

Jailor. I dare not, madam. 

Cleora. I will buy thy danger, 
Take more gold. — Do not trouble me with (tanks r 
I do suppose it done. [Exit Jailor. 

Pis. My better angel 
Assumes wis shape to comfort me, and wisely ; 



Ma»Bhcbi.J 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



7* 



Since from the choice of all celestial figures, 
Me oouU not take a visible form, so fall 
Ofponoas sweetness. [Kneels, 

Uam. Rise — I am flesh and blood, 
And do partake thy tortures. 

Pis. Can it be? 
Tint charity should persuade you to descend 
So far from your own height as to vouchsafe 
To look upon my sufferings ! How I bless 
Mr fetters now, and stand engaged to fortune 
For my captivity — no, my freedom rather \ 
For who dare think that place a prison, which 
Yoa sanctify with your presence ? Or believe, 
Sorrow has power to use her sting on him, 
That is in your compassion armed, and made 
Impregnable, though tyranny raise at once 
All engines to assault hira ? 

Cfcm Indeed virtue, 
With which you have made evident proofs that 

you 
Arc strongly fortified, cannot fall, though shaken 
With the shock of fierce temptations ; but still 

triumphs 
In spite of opposition. For myself, 
I may endeavour to confirm your goodness, 
(A sure retreat which never will deceive you) 
And aim unfeigned tears express my sorrow 

For what I cannot help [Weeps. 

Pis. Do you weep lor me ? 
! save that precious balm for noble uses ! 
I am unworthy of the smallest drop. 
Which, in your prodigality of pity, 
Too throw away on me. Ten of these pearls 
Were a large ransom to redeem a kingdom 
From a consuming plague, or stop heaven's ven- 

leance, 
Called down by crying sins, though at that instant 
In dreadful flashes railing on the roofs 
Of bold blasphemers. I am justly punished 
For mv intent of violence to such pureness ; 
And all the torments flesh is sensible of, 
A soft and gentle penance. 
Cleora. Which is ended 
Id this your free confession. 

Later Leosthenes and Timagoras unseen. 

htott. What an object 
Have I encountered ? 

Tmag. I am blasted too ! 
Yet hear a little further. 

Pit, Could I expire now, 
These white and innocent hands closing my eyes 

thus, 
Twere not to die, but in a heavenly dream 
To be transported, without the help of Charon, 
To the Elysian shades. — You make me bold ; 
And, but to wish such happiness, I fear, 
May give ofience- 

Ckora. No, for believe it, Marullo, 
You've won ao much upon me, that I know not 
That h app iness in my gift but you may challenge. 

Last. Are you yet satisfied? 



Cleora. Nor can you wish 
But what my vows will second, though it were 
Your freedom first, and then in me full power 
To make a second tender of myself, 
And you receive the present. By this kiss 
(From me a virgin bounty) I will practise 
All arts for your deliverance; and, .that purchasedV 
In what concerns your farther aims, I speak it, 
Do not despair, but hope. 

Ttmwg. To have the hangman, 
When he is married to the cross, in scorn 
To say, gods give you joy. 

Leost. But look on me, [To Cleora, 

And be not too indulgent to your folly ; 
And then (but that grief stops my speech) imagine 
Wliat language I should use. 

Cleora. Against thyself. 
Thy malice cannot reach me. 

Timag. How*? 

Cleora. No, brother ! 
Though you join in the dialogue to accuse me, 
What I have done, 111 justify; and these favours, 
Which you presume will taint me in my honour, 
Though Jealousy use all her eyes to spy out 
One stain in my behaviour, or envy 
As many tongues to wound it, shall appear 
My best perfections. For, to the world, 
I can, in my defence, alledge such reasons, 
As my accusers shall stand dumb to hear diem J . 
When in his fetters this man's worth and virtues. 
But truly told, shall shame your boasted glories, 
Which fortune claims a share in. 

Timag. The base villain 
Shall never live to hear it 

[Offers to stab Pisander, Cleora interposes* 

filcora. Murder ! help ! 
Ttirough me you shall pass to him. 

Enter Arc hi dam us, Diphilus, and officers. 

Arch. What's the matter ? 
On whom is your sword drawn? Are you a judge ? 
Or else ambitious of the hangman's office 
Before it be designed you? You are bold too! 
Unhand my daughter. 

Leost. She's my valour's prize. 

Arch. With her consent, not otherwise. You 
may urge 
Your title in the court ; if it prove good, 
Possess her freely : Guard him safely off too. 

Timag. You'll hear me, Sir ? 

Arch. If you have aught to say,. 
Deliver it in public; all shall find 
A just judge of Tunoleefiw 

Diph. You must 
Of force now use your patience. 

[Exeunt Arch. Diph. and Guards* 

Timag. Vengeance rather ! 
Whirlwinds of rage possess me ! you are wronged 
Beyond a stoic's sufferance ; yet you stand 
As you were rooted. 

Leost. I feel something here, 
That boldly tells me all the love and service .. 



74 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massingbk. 



I pay Cleora, is another's due, 
And therefore cannot prosper. 

Timag. Melancholy ! 
Which now you must not yield to. 

Leott. Tis apparent. 
In fact your sister is innocent, however 
Changed by her violent will. 

Timag. If you believe so, 
Follow the chace still ; and in open court 
Plead your own interest. We shall find the judge 
Our friend, I fear not. 

Leost. Something I shall say, 
But what 

Timag. Collect yourself as we walk thither. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— The Court of Justice. 

Enter Timoleon, Archidamus, Cleora, and 

Officers. 

TimoL Tis wondrous strange ! nor can it fall 
within 
The reach of my belief, a slave should be 
The owner of a temperance, which this age 
Can hardly jarallel m free-born lords, 
Or kings, proud of their purple. 

Arch. Tis most true ; 
And, though at first it did appear a fable, 
All circumstances meet to give it credit; 
Which works so on me, that I am compelled 
To be a suitor, not to be denied, 
He may have equal hearing. 

Cleora. Sir, you graced me 
With the title of your mistress : but my fortune 
Is so far distant from command, that I 
Lay by the power you gave me, and plead hum- 
bly 
For the preserver of my fame and honour; 
And pray you, sir, in charity believe, 
That, since I had ability of speech, 
My tongue hath been so much inured to truth, 
I know not how to lie. 

Tunol I'll rather doubt 
The oracles of the jjods, than question what 
Your innocence delivers ; and, as far 
As justice with mine honour can give way, 
He shall have favour. Bring him in unbound : 

[Exeunt Officers. 
And, though Leosthenes may challenge from me, 
For his late worthy service, credit to 
All things he can alledge in his own cause, 
Marullo (so I think you call his name) 
Shall find I do reserve an ear for him, 

Enter Cleon, Asotvs, Diphilus, Olympia, 
and Cobisca. 

To let in mercy. Sit, and take your places : 
The right of this fair virgin first determined, 
Your bondmen shall be censured. 

Cleon. With all rigour 
We do expect 

Cor. Tempered, I say, with mercy. 



Enter at one door Leosthehbs and Timagoras ; 
at the other, Officers with Pisander and Ti- 

MANDRA. 

TimoL Your hand, Leosthenes : I cannot doubt, 
You that have been victorious in the war, 
Shoulo^in a combat, fought with words, come off 
But with assured triumph. 

Leost. My deserts, sir, 
(If without arrogance I may style them such) 
Arm me from doubt and fear. 

TimoL Tis nobly spoken !. 
Nor be thou daunted (howsoever thy fortune 
Has marked thee out a slave) to speak thy me* 

rits: 
For virtue, though in rags, may challenge more 
Than vice, set off with all the trim of greatness. 

Pis. I'd rather fall under so just a judge, 
Than be acquitted by a man corrupt, 
And partial in his censure. 

Arch. Note his language ! 
It relishes of better breeding than 
His present state dare promise. 

TimoL I observe it-— 
Place the fair lady in the midst, that both, 
Looking with covetous eyes upon the prize 
They are to plead for, may, from the fair object. 
Teach Hermes eloquence. 

Leost. Am I fallen so low ? 
My birth, my honour, and, what is dearest to me. 
My love, and witness of my love, my service, 
So undervalued, that I must contend 
With one, where my excess of glory must 
Make his overthrow a conquest ? Shall my ful- 
ness 
Supply defects in such a thing, that never 
Knew any thing but want and emptiness, 
Give him a name, and keep it such, from this 
Unequal competition ? If my pride, 
Or any bold assurance of my worth, 
Has plucked this mountain of disgrace upon 
I'm justly punished, and submit; but if 
I have been modest, and esteemed myself 
More injured in the tribute of the praise, 
Which no desert of mine, prized by self-love, 
Ever exacted : may this cause and minute 
For ever be forgotten. I dwell long 
Upon mine anger, and now turn to you, 
Ungrateful fair one ; and, since yon are such, 
Tis lawful for me to proclaim myself, 
And what I have deserved. 

Cleora. Neglect and scorn 
From me, for this proud vaunt. 

Leost. You nourish, lady, 
Your own dishonour in this harsh reply, 
And almost prove, what some hold of your sex, 
You're all made up of passion : For, it reason 
Or judgment could find entertainment with you, 
Or that you would distinguish of the objects 
You look on in a true glass, not seduced 
By the false light of your too violent will, 
I should not need to plead for mat which you 



Massikgbr.) 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



75 



With joy should offer.--* Is my high birth a ble- 



r 

Or does my wealth, which all the vain expence 
Of women cannot waste, breed loathing in you ? 
Ihe honours, I can call mine own, thought scan- 
dals? 
Am I deformed, or, for my father's sins, • 
Mnlcted by Nature ? If you interpret these 
As dimes, 'tis fit I should yield up myself, 
Most miserably guilty; But, perhaps, 
(Which jet I would not credit) you have seen 
This plant pitch the bar, or bear a burden 
Would crack the shoulders of a weaker bondman ; 
Or any other boisterous exercise, 
Assuring a strong back, to satisfy 
Your loose desires, insatiate as the grave. 
Clara. You are foul-mouthed. 
Artk. Ill-mannered too. 
Lemt. I speak 
Id the way of supposition, and entreat you, 
With all the fervour of a constant lover, 
That yon would free yourself from these asper- 
sions, 
(k any imputation black-tongued slander 
Could throw on your unspotted virgin whiteness ; 
To which there is no easier way, than by 
Vouchsafing him your favour ; him, to whom, 
Next to the general, and to the gods, 
The country owes her safety. 

fta**. Are you stupid ? 
'Shcbt, leap into his arms, and there ask pardon — 
Oh 1 you expect your slave's reply ; no doubt 
We shall have a fine oration ; 1 will teach 
My spaniel to howl in sweeter language, 
Aid keep a better method. 

Arch. You forget 
The dimly of the place. 
Dip*. Silence ! 
7W Speak boldly. 

Pis. s *fis your authority gives me a tongue; 
I should be dumb else ; and I am secure, 
I cannot clothe my thoughts, and just defence, 
In such an abject phrase, but 'twill appear 
Equal, if not above, my low condition. 
I need no bombast language, stolen from such 
As make nobility from prodigious terms 
The hearers understand not ; I bring with me 
No wealth to boast of, neither can I number 
Uncertain fortune's favours with my merits : 
I dare not force affection, or presume 
lb censure her discretion, that looks on me 
As a weak man, and not her fancy's idol. 
How I have loved, and how much I have suf- 
fered, 
And with what pleasure undergone the burthen 
Of my ambitious hopes (in aiming at 
The glad possession of a happiness, 
The abstract of all goodness in mankind 
Can at no part deserve), with my confession 
Of mine own wants, is all that can plead for me. 
Bat if that pure desire, not blended with 
Foal thoughts, that like a river keeps his course, 



Retaining still die clearness of the spring, 
From whence it took beginning, may be thought 
Worthy acceptance ; then I dare rise up, 
And tell this gay man to his teeth, I never 
Durst doubt her constancy, that like a rock 
Beats off temptations, as that mocks the fury 
Of the proud waves ; nor from my jealous fears 
Question that goodness, to which, as an altar 
Of all perfection, he, that truly loves, 
Should rather bring a sacrifice of service, 
Than raze it with the engines of suspicion ; 
Of which, when he can wash an &tluop white, 
Leosthenes may hope to free himself; 
But, till then, never. 

Timag. Bold, presumptuous villain ! 

Pis. I will go farther, and make good upon him, 
In the pride of all his honours, birth and fortunes, 
He's more unworthy than myself. 

Leost. Thou liest. 

Timag. Confute him with a whip, and, the 
doubt decided, 
Punish him with a halter. 

Pis. O the gods! 
My ribs, though made of brass, cannot contain 
My heart, swoln big with rage — The lie ! A 
whip ! [Plucks off his disguise. 

Let fury then disperse these clouds, in which 
I long have masked, disguised ; that, when they 

know 
Whom they have injured, they may faint with 

horror 
Of my revenge, which, wretched men ! expect, 
As sure as fate, to suffer ! 

Leost. Ha ! Pisander ? 

Timag. Tis the bold Theban 1 

Asot. There's no hope for me then ! 
I thought I should have put in for a share, 
And borne Cleora from them both : But now, 
This stranger looks so terrible, that I dare not 
So much as look on her. 

Pis. Now, as myself, 
Thy equal at thy best, Leosthenes. — 
For you, Timagoras, praise heaven you were born 
Cleora's brother, 'tis your safest armour. 
But I lose time. — The base lie cast upon me, 
I thus return. Thou art a perjured man, 
False and perfidious, and hast made a tender 
Of love and service to this lady, when 
Thy soul (if thou hast any) can bear witness, 
That thou wert not thine own. For proof of this, 
Look better on this virgin, and consider, 
This Persian shape laid by, and she appearing 
In a Greekish dress, such as when first you saw 

her, 
If she resemble not Pisander's sister, 
One called Statilia? 

Leost. Tis the same ! my guilt 
So chokes my spirits, I cannot deny 
My falsehood, nor excuse it 

Pis. This is she, 
To whom thou wert contracted : This is the lady, 
That, when thou wert my prisoner, fairly taken 



76 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[MAmma 



In the Spartan war, that begged thy liberty, 
And with it gave herself to thee, ungrateful ! 

Timan. No more, sir, I entreat you: I per- 
ceive 
True sorrow in his looks, and a consent 
To make me reparation in mine honour ; 
And then I am most happy. 

Pis. The wrong done tier 
Drew me from Thebes with a full intent to kill 

thee: 
But this fair object met me in my fury, 
And quite disarmed me. Being denied to hare 

her 
By you, my lord Archidamus, and not able 
To live far from her, love (the mistress of 
All quaint devices) prompted me to treat 
With a friend of mine, who as a pirate sold me 
For a slave to you, my lord, and gave my sister 
As a present to Cleora. 

TmoL Strange meanders ! 

Pis. There how I bare myself needs no rela- 
tion. 
But, if so far descending from the height 
Of my then flourishing fortunes, to the lowest 
Condition of a man, to have means only 
To feed my eye with the sight of what I honoured ; 
The dangers too I underwent ; the suffering ; 
The clearness of my interest, may deserve 
A noble reebmpence in your lawful favour; 
Now 'tis apparent that Leosthenes 
Can claim no interest in you, you may please 
To think upon my service. 

Cleora. Sir, my want 
Of power to satisfy so great a debt, 
Makes me accuse my fortune ; but if that, 
Out of the bounty ot your mind, you think 
A free surrender of myself full payment, 
I gladly tender it 

Arch. With my consent too, 
All injuries forgotten. 

Timag. I will study, 
In my future service, to deserve your favour 
And good opinion. 

Leost. Thus I gladly fee 
This advocate to plead for me. [Kissing St at ilia. 

Pis. You will nnd me 
An easy judge ; when I have yielded reasons 
Of your bondmen's falling oft from their obedi- 

dience, 
Then after, as you please, determine of me. 
I found their natures apt to mutiny 
From your too cruel usage, and made trial 
How far they might be wrought on : to instruct 

you 
To look with more prevention and care, 
To what they may hereafter undertake 
Upon the like occasions— The hurt's little 
They have committed, nor was ever cure 
But with some pain effected. I confess, 
In hope to force a grant of fair Cleora 
I urged diem to defend the town against you: 
Nor had the terror of your whips, but that 



I was preparing for defence elsewhere, 
So soon got entrance ; In this I am guilty: 
Now, as you please, your censure. 

TimoL Bring them in ; 
AnoV though you have given me power, I da 

treat 
Such as have undergone their insolence, 
It may not be offensive, though I study 
Pity more than revenge. 

Car. Twill best become yon. 

Clean. I must consent 

Asot. For me, I'll find a time 
To be revenged hereafter. 

Enter Gracculo, Cimbrio, Poliphrojt, 3?a*> 
thia and the other slaves^ with haUm mka»M 
their necks. 

Grac. Give me leave ; 
HI speak for all. 

TimoL What canst thou say, to hinder 
The course of justice ? 

Grac. Nothing. You may see 
We are prepared for hanging, and confess) 
We have deserved it. Our most humble snit is. 
We may not twice be executed. 

Timol. Twice ? How mean'st thou ? 

Grac. At the gallows first, aad after in a bal- 
lad, 
Sung to some villainous tune. There are ten* 

groat rhymers 
About the town grown fat on these occasions*— 
Let but a chapel fall, or a street be fired, 
A foolish lover hang himself for pure love, 
Or any such like accident, and before 
They are cold in their graves, some damned du> 

ty's made, 
Which makes their ghosts walk. — Let the state 

take order 
For the redress of this abuse, recording 
Twas done by my advice, and for my part, 
111 cut as clean a caper from the ladder 
As ever merry Greek did. 

TunoL Yet I think 
You would shew more activity, to deligjbt 
Your master for a pardon. 

Grac. O ! I would dance 
As I were all air and fire. 

TimoL And ever be 
Obedient and humble ? 

Grac. As his spaniel, 
Though he kicked me for exercise ; and the like* 
I promise for all the rest. 

Timol. Rise then, you have it. 

All Slaves. Timoleon ! Timoleon ! 

TimoL Cease these clamours. 
And now, the war being ended to our wishes, 
And such as want the pilgrimage of love, 
Happy in full fruition of their hopes, 
Tis lawful, thanks paid to the. powers divine, 
To drown our cares in honest mirth an4 wine. 

[fjetnt/. 



ROMONT. 

Charmi. 
Novall, ten. 

NOTALL,Jtt*. 

Jjladav. 
DvCroy. 

BoCHFORT. 

Beaumont, 
povtalibr, 
Ma lot iv. 
Atmrr. 



THE 



FATAL DOWRY. 



BY 



MASSINGER AND FIELD. 



DRAMATIS PERSONA. 



MEN. 



WOMEN. 



Beaumelle. 

Florimel. 

Bellapert. 

Advocates, 

Three CretmtOTS. 

Officers, 

Priest. 

Taylor. 

Barber. 

Perfumer. 



Scene, — Dijon in Burgundy. 



ACT L. 



SCENE L 



Enter Charaxois with a paper, Romont and 

Charm i. 



Sir, I -ray more the court to serve 
your will; 
But therein shall both wrong you and myself. 

Ram. Why think you so, sir? 

CkmnmL Because I am familiar 
With what will be their answer : They will say, 
lit anktst law, and aigae me of ignorance, 
For ottering them the motion. 

Rom. You know not, sir, 
How, in this cause, they may dispense with law, 
And therefore frame not you their answer for 



dtojrooroart. 

Charmi. I love the cause so well, 
That I could ma the hazard of a check for k. 

Horn. From whom? 

Charmi. Some of the bench that watch to give it, 
More than to do the office that they sit for: 
flat gpre nse, sir, my foe, 



Rom. Now too are noble. 

Charmi. I shall deserve this better yet, in gi- 
ving 
My lord some counsel (if he please to hear it) 
Than I shall do with pleading. 

Rom. What may it be, sir? 

Charmi. That it would please his lordship, as 
the presidents 
And counsellors of court come by, to stand 
Here and but shew yourself, and to some one 
Or two make his request i There is a minute, 
When a man's presence speaks in his own cause, 
More than the tongues of twenty advocates. 

Rom. I have urged that 

Enter Rochfobt and Du Croy. 

Charmi Their lordships here are coming, 
I must go get me a place. You'll find me in court, 
And at your service. [Exit Charmi. 

Rom. Now, put on your spirits f 

Du Croy. The ease that you prepare yourself, 
my lord, 
In giving up the place you hold in court, 



78 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massinger <$♦ 



Will prove, I fear, a trouble in the state ; 
And that no slight one. 

Roch. Pray you, sir, no more. 

Rom. Now, sir, lose not this offered means: 
Their looks 
fixed on you with a pitying earnestness, 
Invite you to demand their furtherance 
To your good purpose. This is such a dulness, 
So foolish and untimely, as 

Du Croy. You know him ? 

Roch. I do ; and much lament the sudden fall 
Of his brave house. It is young Charalois, 
Son to the marshal, from whom he inherits 
His fame and virtues only. 

Rom. Ha ! they name you. 

Du Croy. His father died in prison two days 
since. 

Roch. Yes, to the shame of this ungrateful 
state; 
That such a master in the art of war. 
So noble and so highly meriting 
From this forgetful country, should, for want 
Of means to satisfy his creditors 
The sum he took up for the general good, 
Meet with an end so infamous. 

Rom. Dare you ever hope for like opportunity? 

Du Croy. My good lord ! 

Roch. My wish bring comfort to you. 

Du Cray. The time calls us. 

Roch. Good morrow, Colonel ! 

[Exeunt Rockfort and Du Croy. 

Rom. This obstinate spleen, 
You think becomes your sorrow, and sorts well 
With your black suits: But, grant me wit or 

judgment, 
And, by the freedom of an honest man, 
And a true friend to boot, I swear, 'tis shameful ; 
And therefore flatter not yourself with hope, 
Your sable habit, with the hat and cloak, 
No, though the ribbons help, have power to work 

them 
To what you would : For those that had no eyes 
To see the great acts of your father, will not, 
From any fashion sorrow can put on, 
Be taught to know their duties. 

Char. If thev will not, 
They are too old to learn, and I too young 
To give them counsel ; since, if they partake 
The understanding and the hearts of men, 
They will prevent my words and tears : If not, 
What can persuasion, though made eloquent 
With grief, work upon such as have changed na- 
tures 
With the most savage beast? Blest, blest be ever 
The memory of that happy age, when justice 
Had no guards to keep off wronged innocence 
From flying to her succours, and, in that, 
Assurance of redress : Whereas now, Romont, 
The damned with more ease may ascend from 

hell, 
Than we arrive at her. One Cerberus there 
Forbids tlie passage ; in our courts a thousand, 



As loud and fertile-headed; and the client, 
That wants the sops to fill their ravenous throats, 
Must hope for no access. Why should I, then, 
Attempt impossibilities, you, friend, being 
Too well acquainted with my dearth of means 
To make my entrance that way ? 

Rom. Would I were not ! 
But, sir ! you have a cause, a cause so just, 
Of such necessity, not to be deferred, 
As would compel a maid, whose foot was never 
Set o'er her father's threshold, nor, within 
The house where she was born, ever spake word, 
Which was not ushered with pure virgin blushes, 
To drown the tempest of a pleader's tongue, 
And force corruption to give back the hire 
It took against her. Let examples move you. 
You see men great in birth, esteem, and fortune, 
Rather than lose a scruple of their right, 
Fawn basely upon such, whose gowns put ofF, - 
They would disdain for servants. 

Char. And to these can I become a suitor ? 

Rom. Without loss : 
Would you consider, that, to gain their favours. 
Our chastest dames put off their modesties, 
Soldiers forget their honours, usurers 
Make sacrifice of gold, poets of wit, 
And men religious part with fame and goodness. 
Be therefore won to use the means that may 
Advance your pious ends. 

Char. You snail o'ercome. 

Rom. And you receive the glory. Pray yon 
now practise. 
Tis well. 

Enter Old Novall, Li la dam, and three 
Creditors. 

Char. Not look on me ! 

Rom. You must have patience Oner it 

again. 
Char. And be again contemned ! 
Nov. I know what's to be done.- 

1 Cred. And, that your lordship 

Will please to do your knowledge, we offer first 
Our thankful hearts here, as a bounteous earnest 
To what we will add. 

Nov. One word more of this, 
I am your enemy. Am I a man, 
Your bribes can work on? Ha? 

Li/ad. Friends! you mistake 
The way to win my lord ; he must not hear this. 
But I, as one in favour, in his sight, 
May hearken to you for my profit. Sir ! # 
— I pray hear them. 

Aoo. Tis well. 

Ulad. Observe him now. 

Nov. Your cause being good, and your pro> 
ceedings so, 
Without corruption I am your friend ; 
Speak your desires. 

2 Cred. Oh, they are charitable; 

The marshal stood engaged unto us three, 
Two hundred thousand crowns, which by his desdi 



PlILD.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



79 



We are defeated of. For which great loss 

We aim at nothing bat his rotten flesh ; 

Nor is that cruelty. 

1 Cred. I hare a son 
flat talks of nothing but of guns and armour, 
And swears hell be a soldier; 'tis an humour 
I woaJd divert him from ; and I am told, 
Tint if I minister to him, in his drink, 
Powder made of this bankrupt marshal's bones. 
Provided that the carcase rot above ground, 
Twill core bis foolish frenzy. 

Nov. You shew in it 
A father's care. I have a son myself*- 
A fashionable gentleman, and a peaceful : 
And, but I am assured he is not so given, 
Be should take of it too. Sir, what are you ? 

Clar. A gentleman. 

Has. So are many that rake dunghills. 
If too have any suit, move it in court : 
I take oo papers in corners. 

Rbol Yes, as the matter may be carried ; and 
whereby 
To manage the conveyance— Follow him. 

Ldod. You're rude : I say he shall not pass. 
[Exeunt NorvaH, Charalois, and advocate*. 

Mm. You say so ? On what assurance? 
For the well-cutting of his lordship's corns, 
Picking bis toes, or any office else 
Nearer to baseness ? 

LUad. Look upon me better ; 
Are these the ensigns of so coarse a fellow ? 
Be well advised. 

Rom. Out, rogue ! do not I know [Kicks him. 
These glorious weeds spring from the sordid dung- 
hill 
Of thy officious baseness ? Wert thou worthy 
Of any thing from me, but my contempt, 
I would do more than this, — more, you ajourt- 
spiderl 

lilaa\ But that this man is lawless, he should 
find 
That I am valiant. 

1 Cred. If your ears are fast, 

Tb nothing. What's a blow or two ? As much : 

2 Cred. These chastisements as useful are as 

frequent 
To such as would grow rich. 
Rom. Are they so, rascals ? I will befriend you 
then — [Kicks them' 

1 Cred. Bear witness, sirs ! 
IMad. Truth, I have born my part already, 
m friends! 
In the' court yon shall hear more. [Exit. 

fan. I know you for 
The worst of spirits, that strive to rob the tombs 
Of what is their inheritance, the dead -- 
7or usurers bred by a riotous peace ; 
That hold the charter of your wealth and free- 
dom, 
ftr being knaves and cuckolds, that never proved, 
Bat when you fear the rich heirs will grow wise, 
To keep their lands out of your parchment toils 



And then, the devil, your father, is called upon, 
To invent some ways of luxury ne'er thought on. 
Be gone, and quickly, or I'll leave no room 
Upon your foreheads for your horns to sprout on ; 
Without a murmur, or I will undo you, 
For I will beat you honest. 

1 Cred. Thrift forbid ! 
We will bear this rather than hazard that 

[Exeunt Creditors. 

Enter Charalois. 

Rom. I am somewhat eased in this yet— 
, Char. Only friend ! 
To what vain purpose do I make my sorrow 
Wait on the triumph of their cruelty ? 
Or teach their pride from my humility, 
To think it has overcome ? They are determined 
What they will do ; and it may well become me, 
To rob them of the glory they expect 
From my submiss entreaties. 

Rom. Think not so, sir ! 
The difficulties that you encounter with, 
Will crown the undertaking — Heaven ! you weep, 
And I could do so too; but that I know, 
There's more expected from the son and friend 
Of him whose fatal loss now shakes our natures, 
Than sighs or tears, in which a village nurse, 
Or cunning strumpet, when her knave is hanged, 
May overcome us. We are men, young lord. 
Let us not do like women. To the court, 
And there speak like your birth : Wake sleeping 

justice, 
Or dare the axe. This is a way will sort 
With what you are: I call you not to that 
I will shrink from myself; I will deserve 
Your thanks, or suffer with you — O how bravely 
That sudden fire of anger shews in you ! 
Give fuel to it; since you are on a shelf 
Of extreme danger, suffer like yourself. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 

Enter Rochfort, Novall, sen. Charmi, Do 
Croy, advocates, Beaumost, officers, and three 
presidents. 

Du Croy. Your lordship is seated. May this 
meeting prove 
Prosperous to us, and to the general good of Bur- 
gundy. 

Nov. sen. Speak to the point! 

Du Croy — Which is 
With honour to dispose the place and power 
Of premier president, which this reverend man, 
Grave Rochfort (whom for honour's sake I uame^ 
Is purposed to resign ; a place, my lords, 
In which he hath, with such integrity, 
Performed the first and best parts of a judge, 
That, as his life transcends all fair examples 
Of such as were before him in Dijon, 
So it remains to those that shall succeed him, 
A precedent that they may imitate, but not equal. 

Rock I may not sit to hear this. 



[ 



80 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Mass in gee 4* 



Du Croy. Let the love 
And thankfulness we are bound to pay to good- 
ness, 
In this overcome your modesty. 

Rock. My thanks 
For this great favour shall prevent your trouble. 
The honourable trust that was imposed 
Upon my weakness, since you witness for me, 
It was not ill discharged, I will not mention ; 
Nor now, if age had not deprived me of 
The little strength I had to govern well 
The province that I undertook, forsake it. 
Nov. sen. That we could lend you of our years ! 
Du Croy. Or strength ! 
Nov. sen. Or, as you are, persuade you to con- 
tinue 
The noble exercise of your knowing judgement ! 
Koch. That may not be ; nor can your lord- 
ships' goodness, 
Since your employments have conferred upon me 
Sufficient wealth, deny the use of it ; 
And though old age, when one foot is in the 

grave, 
In many, when all humours else are spent, 
Feeds no affection in them, but desire 
To add height to the mountain of their riches ; 
In me it is not so ; I rest content 
With the honours and estate I now possess. 
And, that I may have liberty to use, 
What Heaven, still blessing my poor industry, 
Hath made me master of, I pray the court 
To ease me of my burthen ; that I may 
Employ the small remainder of my Kfe 
In living well, and learning how to die so. 

Enter Romant and Chaealois. 

Rom. See, sir, our advocate. 

Du Croy. The court intreats 
Your lordship will be pleased to name the man, 
Which you would have your successor, and in me 
All promise to confirm it. 

Koch. I embrace it 
As an assurance of their favour to me, 
And name my lord Novall. 

Du Croy. The court allows it. 

Rock. But there are suitors wait here, and 
their causes 
May be of more necessity to be heard, 
And therefore wish that mine may be deferred, 
And theirs have hearing. 

Du Croy. If your lordship please 
To take the place, we will proceed. 

Charmi. The cause 
We come to offer to your lordship's censure, 
Is m itself so noble, that it needs not 
Or rhetoric in me that plead, or favour 
From your grave lordships, to determine of it ; 
Since to the praise of your impartial justice 
(Which guilty, nay, condemned men, dare not 

scandal) 
It will erect a trophy of your mercy 
Which married to that justice— — 

2 



Nov, sen. Speak to the cause. 

Charmi. I will, my lord. To Bay, the late dead 
marshal, 
The father of this young lord here, my client, 
Hath done his country great and faithful service, 
Might tax me of impertinence, to repeat 
What your grave lordships cannot but remember : 
He, in* his lire, became indebted to 
These thrifty men, (I will not wrong their credits. 
By giving them the attributes they now merit) 
And failing, by the fortune of the wars, 
Of means to free himself from his engagements, 
He was arrested, and for want of bail, 
Imprisoned^ at their suit : And not long after 
With loss of liberty ended ms life. 
And, though it be a maxim in our laws. 
All suits die with the person, these men's malice 
In death finds matter for their hate to work on,' 
Denying him the recent rites of burial, 
Which the sworn enemies of the christian faith 
Grant freely to their slaves : May it therefore 

please 
Your lordships so to fashion your decree, 
That, what their cruelty doth forbid, your pity 
May give allowance to. 

Nov. sen. How long have you, sir, practised in 
court? 

Charmu Some twenty years, my lord. 

Nov. sen. By your gross ignorance, it should ap- 
pear, 
Not twenty days. 

Charmi. I hope I have given no cause in this, 
my lord 

Nov. sen. How dare you move the court 
To the dispensing with an act confirmed 
By parliament, to the terror of all bankrupts? 
Go home ! and with more care peruse the sta- 
tutes: 
Or the next motion, savouring of this boldness, 
May force you to leap (against your will) 
Over the place you plead at. 

Charmi. I foresaw this. 

Rom. Why, doe* yont lordship think the mo- 
ving of 
A cause, more honest than this conrt had ever 
The honour to determine, can deserve 
A check like this ? 

Nov sen. Strange boldness ! 

Rom. lis fit freedom : 
Or, do you conclude, on advocate eatmot bold 
His credit with the kidge, unless be study 
His face more than the cause for which he pleads? 

Charmi. Forbear I 

Rom. Or cannot you, that hate the power 
To qualify the rigour of the laws. 
When you are pleased, take a ntthrfroai 
The strictness of your sour decree** enacted 
In favour of the greedy creditor, 
Against the overthrown debtor ? 

Nov. sen. Sirrah ! you that prate 
Thus saucily, what are you ? 

Rom. Why, I'll tell you,. 



Field.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



81 



Tbou parple-coloured man ! I am one to whom 
Thou owe* the means thou hast of sitting there, 
A corrept elder. 

Ckarmi Forbear! 

Km. The nose thou wearest is my gift, and 
those eyes, 
That meet no object so base as their master, 
Had been long since torn from that guilty head, 
And thou myself slave to some needy Swiss, 
Had I not worn a sword, and used it better 
Than in thy prayers thou ever didst thy tongue. 

Nov. sen. Shall such an insolence pass unpu- 
nished? 

Oanm. Hear me! 

Rom. Yet I, that in my service done my coun- 

Disdain to be put in the scale with thee, 
Confess myself unworthy to be valued 
With the least part, nay, hair of the dead mar- 
shal, 
Of whose so many glorious undertakings, 
Make choice of any one, and that the meanest, 
Performed against the subtle fox -of France, 
The politic Lewis, or the more desperate Swiss, 
And twill outweigh all the good purpose, 
Though put in act, that ever gownman practised. 

Nat. sen. Away with him to prison ! 

Rom. If that curses, 
trged justly, and breathed forth so, ever fell 
On those that did deserve them, let not mine 
Be spent in vain now, that thou, from this instant, 
Matest, in thy fear that they will fall upon thee, 
Be sensible of the plagues they shall bring with 

tbem. 
And for denying of a little earth, 
To cover what remains of our great soldier, 
May all your wives prove whores, your factors 

thieves, 
And, while you live, your riotous heirs undo you. 
And thou, the patron of their cruelty, 
Of all thy lordships live not to be owner 
Of so much dung as will conceal a dog, 
Or, what is worse, thyself in. And thy years, 
To the end thou mayst be wretched, I wish many ; 
And, as thou hast denied the dead a grave, 
May misery in thy life make thee desire one, 
Which men, ana all the elements, keep from 

thee: 
I have begun well ; imitate ; exceed. 

Rock. Good counsel, were it a praise-worthy 
deed: 

[Exeunt officers with Romont. 

Dm Cm. Remember what we are. 

Char. Tims low my duty 
Answers your lordships counsel. I will use, 
la the few words with which I am to trouble 
Your lordship's ears, the temper that you wish 



Not that 1 fear to speak my thoughts as loud, 
And with a liberty beyond Romont : 
Ife* that I know, for me, that am made up 
Of all that's wretched, so to haste mv end, 
Vot. I. 



Would seem to most rather a willingness 

To quit the burden of a hopeless life, 

Than scorn of death, or duty to the dead. 

I, therefore, bring the tribute of my praise 

To your severity, and commend the justice, 

That will not, for* the many services 

That any man hath done the commonwealth, 

Wink at his least of ills : What though my father 

Writ man before he was so, and confirmed it, 

By numbering that day no part of his life, 

In which he did not service to his country ; 

Was he to be free therefore from the laws, 

And ceremonious form in your decrees? 

Or else, because he did as much as man, 

In those three memorable overthrows, 

At Granson, Morat, Nancy, where his master, 

The warlike Charalois (with whose misfortunes 

I bear his name) lost treasure, men, and life, 

To be excused from payment o( those sums 

Which (his own patrimony spent) his zeal 

To serve his country, forced nim to take up ? 

Nov. sen. The precedent were ill. 

Char. And yet, my lord, thus much 
1 know you'll grant ; after those great defeatures, 
Which in their dreadful ruins buried quick 

Enter Officers. 

Courage and hope in all men but himself, 
He forced the proud foe, in his height of con- 
quest, 
To yield unto an honourable peace, 
And in it saved an hundred thousand lives, 
To end his own, that was sure proof against 
The scalding summer's heat, and winter's frost, 
111 airs, the cannon, and the enemy's sword, 
In a most loathsome prison. 

Du Cray. Twas his fault 
To be so prodigal. 

Nov. sen. He had from the state 
Sufficient entertainment for the army. 

Char. Sufficient, my lord ? You sit at home, 
And, though your fees are boundless at the bar, 
Are thrifty in the charges of the war — 
But your wills be obeyed. To these I turn, 
To these soft-hearted men, that wisely know 
They're only good men that pay what they owe. 

2 Cred. And so they are. 

1 Cred. 'Tis the city doctrine; 
We stand bound to maintain it. 

Char. Be constant in it ; 
And, since you are as merciless in your natures, 
As base and mercenary in your means, 
By which you get your wealth, I will not urge 
The court to take away one scruple from 
The right of their laws, or one good thought 
In you to mend your disposition with. 
I know there is no music to your ears 
So pleasing as the groans of men in prison, 
And that the tears of widows, and the cries 
Of famished orphans, are the feasts that take 

you. 
That to be in your danger, with more care 

P 



L 



$£ 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massingu 9f 



Should be avoided than infectious air, 
The loathed embraces of diseased women, 
A flatterer's poison, or the loss of honour. 
Yet, rather than my father's reverend dust 
Shall want a place in that fair monument, 
In which our noble ancestors lie entombed, 
Before the court. I offer up myself 
A prisoner for it. Load me with those irons 
That have worn out his life : in my best strength 
Fll run to the encounter of cold hunger, 
And chuse my dwelling where no sun dares enter, 
So he may be released. 

1 Cred. What mean you, sir ? 

2 Adva. Only your fee again : There's so much 

said 
Already in this cause, and said so well, 
That, should I only offer to speak in it, 
I should not be heard, or laughed at for it. 

1 Cred. Tis the first money advocate e'er gave 
back, 
Though he said nothing. 

Koch. Be advised, young lord, 
And well considerate ; you throw away 
Your liberty and joys of life together : 
Your bounty is employed upon a subject 
That is not sensible of it, with which a wise man 
Never abused his goodness ; the great virtues 
Of your dead father vindicate themselves 
From these men's malice, and break ope the prison, 
Though it contain his body. 

Nov. sen. Let him alone : 
If he love cords, a God's name, let him wear them, 
Provided these consent. 

Char. I hope they are not 
So ignorant in any way of profit, 
As to neglect a possibility 
To get their own, by seeking it from that 
Which can return them nothing but ill fame, 
And curses for their barbarous cruelties. 

3 Cred. What think you of the offer ? 
3 Cred. Very well. 

1 Cred. Accept it by all means : Let us shut 

him up; 
He is well shaped, and has a villainous tongue, 
And, should he study that way of revenge, 
As I dare almost swear he loves a wench, 
We have no wives, nor ever shall get daughters, 
That will hold out against him. 
Du Croy. What's your answer ? 

2 Cred. Speak you for all. 

1 Cred, Why, let our executions, 
That lie upon the father, be returned 
Upon the son, and we release the body. 

Nov. sen. The court must pant you that 

Char. I thank your lordships ; 
They have in it confirmed on me such glory, 
As no time can take from me. I am ready: 
Come* lead me where you please : Captivity, 
That comes with honour, -is true liberty. 

[Exit Charalais* Creditors, and Officers, 

Nov. sen. Strange rashness. 

Rock* A brave resolution rather, 
Worthy a better fortune. : but, however, 



It is not now to be disputed; therefore 
To my own cause. Already I have found 
Your lordships bountiful in your favours to me : 
And that should teach my modesty to end here, 
And press your loves no farther. 

Du Croy. There is nothing 
The court can grant, but with assurance you 
May ask it, and obtain it 

Koch, You encourage a bold petitioner, and 
'tis not fit 
Your favours should be lost Besides, it has been 
A custom many years, at die surrendering 
The place I now give up, to grant the president 
One boon that parted with it And, to confirm 
Your grace towards me, against all such as may 
Detract my actions and life hereafter, 
I now prefer it to you. 

Du Croy. Speak it freely. 

Rock I then desire the liberty of Romant, 
And that my lord Novall, whose private wrong 
Was equal to the injury that was done 
To the dignity of the court, will pardon it, 
And now sign his enlargement 

Nov. sen. Pray you demand 
The moiety of my estate, or any thing 
Within my power but this. 

Roch. Am I denied then— my first and last re* 
quest ? 

Du Croy. It must not be. 

2 Pre. I have a voice to give in it 

3 Pre. And I. 

And, if persuasion will not work him to it, 
We will make known our power. 

Nov sen. You are too violent ; 
You shall have my consent But would you had 
Made trial of my love in any thing 
But this, vou should have found then—But it 

skills not 
You have what you desire. 

Roch. I thank your lordships. 

Du Croy. The court is up— Make way. 

[Exeunt all but Rochfort and Beaumtml 

Roch. I follow you — Beaumont ! 

Beautn. My lord? 

Roch. You are a scholar, Beaumont, 
And can search deeper into the intents of men, 
Than those that are less knowing. How appeared 
The piety and brave behaviour of 
Young Cbarakris to yon ? 

Beaum. It is my wonder, 
Since I want language to express k fully; 
And sure the colo nel 

Roch, Fie ! he was faulty.— What prestat 
money have I ? 

Beaum. There is no want 
Of any sum a private man has use for. 

Roch. Tis well: 
I am strangely taken with this Cnaralois; 
Methinks, from his example, the whole age 
 Should learn to be good, and continue so. 
Virtue wotks strangely with as; and bis goodnsa* 
Rising above his fortune* seem* to me, " 
Prince-like, to will,, not ask a courtesy. [Exeunt* 



Fifti*.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



S3 



ACt II. 



SCENE I. 

Enter VowriUEtL, Malotiw and Beaumont. 

Makt. lis strange. 
Beam, Methinks so. 
?m/. In a mm bat young, 
Tel old in judgment; theorick and practick, 
Ii all humanity, and (to increase the wonder) 
Befipoos, vet a soldier, that he should 
Yield his free-tiring youth a captive, for 
Tie freedom of his aged fathers corpse, 
Aad rather chose to want life's necessaries, 
tiberty, hope of fortune, than it should 
la dean be kept from christian ceremony. 

Mtkt. Come, 'tis a golden precedent in a son 
To kt strong Nature have the better hand, 
(Id mch a case) of all affected reason. 
What pars sit on this Charalois ? 

Beam. Twenty-eight; 
For ance the clock did strike him seventeen old. 
Under his father's wing this son hath fought, 
Served and commanded, and 40 aptly both, 
Tint sometimes he appeared his father's father, 
Aad never less than h» son; the old man's virtues 
So recent in him as- the world may swear, 
Nought but a fair tree could such fair fruit bear. 
Pott. Bet wherefore lets he such a barbarous 
law, 
And men more barbarous to execute it, 
ftennl on his soft disposition, 
Tkat he had rather die alive for debt 
Of the old man in prison, than they should 
Bob him of sepulture, considering 
TVse monies borrowed bought the lenders peace, 
Aad all their means they enjoy, nor wa» diffused 
Is any impious or licentious path ? 
Bemm. True ! for my part, were it flry father's 
trunk, 
The tyrannous ram-heads with their horns should 

»«eit, 
Or cut it to their curs, than they less currish, 
&e prey on me so, with their lion-law, 
Baiac ia my free will (as in his) to shun it 

Pont. Alas! he knows himself in poverty lost: 
Fw ia this partial avaricious age 
What price bears honour? virtue ? Long ago 
It was bet praised and freezed, but now-a-days 
T« colder far, and has nor love nor praise ; 
Very praise now freeaeth too : For nature 
Bid make the heathen far more christian then, 
Ifca knowledge us Hess heathenish) christian. 
. JfiUsf . This morning is the Funeral. 

JW Certainly. 
Aad from this prison 'twas the son's request, 
wat hit dear rather might interment have. 

[Recorders Musk. 
%* the young son enters alive die grave'. 



I Enter funeral. The body borne by four. Captains 
and soldiers, mourners, ' scutcheons, &c. in very 
food order. Charalois and Rom on t meet 
it. Charalois speaks. Romont weeping. So- 
lemn musick. Three creditors. 

Char. How like a silent stream shaded with 

night, 
And gliding softly with our windy sighs, 
Moves the whole frame of this solemnity : 
Tears, sighs and blacks filling the simile ! 
Whilst I, the only murmur in this grove 
Of death, thus hollowly break forth! — Vouchsafe 
To stay awhile. — Rest, rest in peace, dear earth ! 
Thou that broughtest rest to their unthankful 

lives, 
Whose cruelty dented thee rest in death: 
Here stands thy poor executor, thy son, 
That makes his life prisoner to bail thy death : 
Who gladlier puts on this captivity, 
Than virgins, long in love, their wedding weeds: 
Of all that ever thou hast done good to, 
These only have good memories ; for they 
Remember best, forget not gratitude. 
I thank you for this last and friendly love ; 
And though this country, like a viperous mother, 
Not only hath eat up ungratefully 
All means of thee her son, but last thyself, 
Leaving thy heir so bare and indigent, 
He cannot raise thee a poor monument, 
Such as a flatterer or an usurer hath, 
Thy worth, in every honest breast, builds one, 
Making their friendly hearts thy funeral stone. 
Pont. Sir! 
CAor. Peace ! O peace ! This scene is wholly 

mine. 
What 1 Weep ye, soldiers ? — Blanch not Romont 

weeps. 
Ha ! let me see ? my miracle is eased : 
The jailors and the creditors do weep : 
E'en they, that make us weep, do weep them* 

selves. 
Be these thy body's balm : These and thy \fertue 
Keep thy fame^ver odoriferous, 
Whilst the grea% proud* rich; undeserving man, 
Alive, stinks in his vices, and, being vanished, 
The golden calf that was an idol, decked 
With marble pillars, jet and porphyry, 
Shall quickly both in bone and name consume, 
Though wrapt in lead, spice, searcloth and per- 
fume. 
1 Cred. Sir ! 
Char. What i — Away, for shame! your tears, 

prophane rogues ! 
Must not be mingled with these holy rclicks : 
This is a sacrifice— Our shower shall crown 
His sepulchre with olive, myrrh and bays, 
The plants of peace, of sorrow, victory ; 
Your tears 1 would spring but weeds. 



84 



BRITISH DRAMA; 



[Massingek^ 



1 Cred. Would they so ? 

We'll keep them to stop bottles then. 

Rom. No, keep them for your own sins, you 
rogues, 
Till you repent ; you'll die else, and be damned. 

2 Cred. Damned, ha ! ha ! ha ! 
-Row. Laugh ye ? 

2 Cred. Yes, faith, sir ; wc would be very glad 
To please you either way. 

1 Cred. You are never content, 
Crying nor laughing. 

Rom. Both with a birth, ye rogues. 

2 Cred. Our wives, sir, taught us. 

Rom. Look, look, you slaves ! your thankless 
cruelty, 
And savage manners of unkind Dijon, 
Exhaust these floods, and not his father's death. 

1 Cred. 'Slid,. sir ! what would you, you're so 

cholerick ! 

2 Cred. Most soldiers are so, in faith. — Let 

him alone. 
They've little else to live on ; we have not had 
A penny of him, have we ? 

3 Cred. 'Slight, would you have our hearts ? 

1 Cred. We have nothing but his body here in 
durance, 
For all our money. 

Priest. On. 

Char. One moment more, 
But to bestow a few poor legacies, 
All I have left in my dead father's right, 
And I have done. Captain, wear thou these 

spurs, 
That yet ne'er made his horse run from a foe. 
Lieutenant, thou this scarf; and may it tie 
Thy valour and thy honestv together : 
For so it did in him. Ensign, this cuirass, 
Your general's necklace once. You gentle bearers, 
Divide this purse of gold : This other strew 
Among the poor; — Tis all I have, llomont, 
Wear thou this medal of himself, that like 
A hearty oak, grew'st close to this tall pine, 
(E'en in the wildest wilderness of war) 
Whereon foes broke their swords, and tired them- 
selves ; 
Wounded and hacked ye were, but never felled. 
For me, my portion provide in heaven: 
My root is earthed, and I, a desolate branch, 
Left scattered in the highway of the world ; 
Trod under foot, that might have been a column 
Mainly supporting our demolished house, 
This would I wear as my inheritance. 
And what hope can arise to me from it, 
When I and it arc here both prisoners ? 
Only may this, if ever we be free, 
Keep or redeem me from all infamy. 

SONG. 

Fie ! cease to wonder ! 
Though you hear Orpheus, with his ivory lute. 
More trees and rockSf 



Charm bulls, bears, and men more $avagc y tobemutt 
Weak foolish singer, here is one 
Would have transformed thyself to stone. 

1 Cred. No farther! look to them at your own 

peril. . - 

2 Cred. No, as they please : — Their masters a 

good man. 
I would they were at the Bermudas. 

Jailor. You must no farther. 

The prison limits you, and the creditors 
Exact the strictness* 

Rom. Out, you wolfish mongrels ! 
Whose brains should be knocked out, like dogs 

in July, 
Lest your infection poison a whole town. 
Char. They grudge our sorrow.-*— Your ill wills, 
perforce, 
Turn now to charity : They would not have us 
Walk too far mourning ; usurers relief 
Grieves if tlie debtors have too much of grief. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 

Enter Beaumelle, Florimel, g/u/Bellapert, 
on one side, and Novall, jun. PoxtaUeh, 
Malotin, Li lad am, and Avmer, on tlie other* 

Nov. jun. Best day to nature's curiosity, 
Star of Dijon, the lustre of all France ! 
Perpetual spring dwell on thy rosy cheeks, 
Whose breath is perfume to our continent; 
See Flora trimmed in her varieties. 

Bella. Oh divine lord ! 

Nov. jun. No autumn nor no age ever ap* 
proach 
This heavenly piece, which nature having wrought. 
She lost her needle, and did then despair 
Ever to work so lively and so fair. 

Lilad. Uds-light, my lord, one of the purls of 
your band 
Is, without all discipline, fallen out of his rank. 

Nov. jun. How ? I would not for a thousand 
crowns she had seen it Dear Liladam, reform it 

Bella. Oh lord ! Per se, lord ! Quintessence 
of honour ! she walks not under a weed that cook 
deny thee any thing. 

BeaumeL Prythee peace, wench ! thou dost but 
blow die tire that flames too much already. 

[Liludam and Aymer tritn Novall, wh&t 
Bellapert her lady. 

Aymer. By gad, my lord, you have the divines! 
taylor in Christendom ; he hath made you look 
like an angel in your cloth of tissue doublet 

Pont. This is a three-legged lord : There is f 
fresh assault. Oh ! 'that men should spend doc 
thus ! — Sec, see how her blood drives to her heart, 
and strait vaults to her cheeks again. 

Malot. What are these ? 

Pont. One of them there, the lower, is a good, 
foolish, knavish, sociable gallimaufry of a man, 
and has much caught my lord with sinking ; be if 
master of a music house. The other is his drcs- 



?IELD.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



65 



sine block, upon whom my lord lays all his cloaths 

ana fahioos, ere he vouchsafes them his own 

penoo; yoa shall, see him m the morning in the 
pJley-foist, at noon in the bullion, in the evening 
in Querpo, and all night in — 
Malot. A bawdy-house. 

Pont. If my lord deny, they deny ; if he af- 
firm, they affirm : They skip into my lord's cast 
duns some twice a year; and thus they lire to 
eat, -eat to live, and live to praise my lord. 

MaioL Good sir, tell me one thing. 

Pont. What's that ? 

Malot. Dare these men ever fight on any cause ? 

Pont. Oh, no, 'twould spoil their cloaths, and 
pot their .hands out of order. 

Nov. jun. Must you hear the news : Your fa- 
ther has resigned bis presidentship to my lord my 
father 

Malot. And lord Charalois undone for ever. 

Post. Troth, 'tis pity, sir ! 
A braver hope of so assured a father 
Did never comfort France. 

'LiUd. A good dumb mourner. 

Aymer. A silent black. 

Xwt.jun. Oh, fie upon him, how he wears his 
doaths! 
As if he had come this Christmas from St Omers, 
To sec his friends, and returned after twelf-tide. 

IMmd. Ilis colonel looks finely tike a drover. — 

Hot. jun. That had a winter lain perdue in 
the rain. 

Aymer. What, he that wears a clout about his 
neck? 
His mAs in his pocket, and his heart in his mouth ? 

Not. jun. NowTout upon him ! 

BeaumeL Servant, tie my hand. 
How yoor lips blush, in scorn that they should pay 
Tribute to hands, when lips are in the way ! 

Nov. jun. I thus recant; yet now your hand 
looks white, 
Beawse your lips robbed it of such a right 
Monsieur Aymer, I prithee sing the song 
Derated to my mistress. [Music. 

SONG. 

A dialogue between a man and a woman. 

Mao. Set* PhabusI set; a fairer sun doth rise 
From the bright radiance of my mistress* eyes 
Than ever thou begafst: I dare not look ; 
Math hair a golden line, each word a hook. 
The more I strive, the more still I am took. 

Vfom.Fatr servant! come ; the day these eyes do 
testa 
To warm thy bloody thou dost so vainly spend, 
Come strangle breath. 

Mm. What note so sweet as this 

That calls the spirits to a further bliss ? 

Wom.yW this out-savours wine y and this perfume, 

Man. Let's die, I languish, I consume. 

Jfter the song, enter Rochfobt and Beaumont. 
Beaum. Romont will come, sir, straight 



Roch. Tis well. 
BeaumeL My father! 
Nov. jun. My honourable lord! 
Roch. My lord Novall ! this is a virtue in you, 
So early up and ready before noon, 
That are the map of dressing through all France ! 
Nov. jun. I rise to say my prayers, sir, here's 

my saint. 
Roch. *Tis well and courtly; — you must give 
me leave ; 
I have some private conference with my daughter; 
Pray use my garden, you shall dine with me. 
Lilad. We'll wait on you. 
Nov. jun. Good morn unto your lordship, 
Remember what you have vowed — 

[To Beaumelle. 

[Exeunt all but Rochfort and Beaumefle. 

BeaumeL Perform I must 

Roch. Why how now, Beaumelle, thou look'st 

not well. 

Thou art sad of late, — come cheer thee ; I have 

found 
A wholesome remedy for these maiden fits, 
A goodly oak whereon to twist my vine, 
Till her fair branches grow up to the stars. 
Be near at hand, success crown my intent, 
My business fills my little time so full, 
I cannot stand to talk : I know thy duty 
Is handmaid to my will, especially 
When it presents nothing but good and fit 
BeaumeL Sir, I am yours.-— Oh ! if my fears 
prove true, 
Fate hath wronged love, and will destroy me too. 

[Exit Beaumelle. 

Enter Romont and Keeper. 

Rom. Sent you for me, sir ? 

Roch. Yes. 

Rom. Your lordship's pleasure ? 

Roch. Keeper, this prisoner I will see forth- 
coming, 
Upon my word — Sit down, good colonel. 

[Exit Keeper. 
Why I did wish you hither, noble sir, 
Is to advise you from this iron carriage, 
Which, so affected, Romont, you will wear 
To pity, and to counsel you to submit 
With expedition to the great Novall : 
Recant your stern contempt and slight neglect 
Of the whole court and him, and opportunely, 
Or you will undergo a heavy censure 
In public, very shortly. 

Kom. Reverend sir, 
I have observed you, and do know you well ; 
And am now more afraid you know not me, 
By wishing my submission to Novall, 
Than I can be of all the bellowing mouths 
That wait upon him to pronounce the censure. 
Could it determine me to torments and shame. 
Submit and crave forgiveness of a beast f 
Tis true, this boil of state wears purple tissue, 
Is high fed, proud : — So is his lordship's horse, 



*6 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



Massikmr $ 



And bears as rich caparaisons. I know 
This elephant carries on his back not only 
Towers, castles, but the ponderous republic, 
And never stoops for it; with his strong breathed 

trunk 
Snufis other's titles, lordships, offices, 
Wealth, bribes, and lives, under his ravenous jaws : 
What's this unto my freedom ? I dare die ; 
And therefore ask this camel, if these blessings 
(For so they would be understood by a man) 
But mollify one rudeness in his nature, 
Sweeten the eager relish of the law, 
At whose great helm he sits. Helps he the poor 
In a just business ? Nay, does he not cross 
Every deserved soldier and scholar, 
As if, when nature made him, she had made 
The general antipathy of all virtue ? 
How savagely and blasphemously he spake 
Touching the general, the brave general, dead ! 
I must weep when I think on't 

Roch. Sir ! 

Rom. My lord, I am not stubborn : I can melt, 
you see, 
And prize a virtue better than my life : 
For though I be not learned, I ever loved 
That holy mother of all issues good, 
Whose white hand for a scepter holds a file, 
To polish roughest customs, and in you 
She has her right : See ! I am calm as sleep ; 
But when I think of the gross injuries, 
f he godless wrong done to my general dead, 
I rave indeed, and could eat this Novell ; 
A soulless dromedary 1 

Roch. Oh ! be temperate ; 
Sir, though I would persuade, I'll not constrain ; 
Each man's opinion freely is his own, 
Concerning any thing, or any body ; 
Be it right or wrong, 'tis at the judge's peril. 

Enter Beaumont. 

Beawn. These men, sir, wait without; my 

lord is come too. 
Roch. Pay them those sums upon the table ; 
take 
Their full releases :— Stay — I want a witness : 
Let me intreat you, colonel, to walk in, 
And stand but by to see this money paid; 
It does concern you and your friend ; it was 
The better cause you were sent for, though said 

otherwise. 
The deed shall make this my request more plain. 
Rom. I shall obey your . pleasure, sir, though 
ignorant 
fo what it tends. [Exeunt Romont and Servant. 

Enter Charalois. 

*  

Rock. Worthiest sir, 
You are most welcome : Fie, no more of this : 
You have out-wept a woman, noble Charalois ! 
No man but has or must bury a father. 

Char. Grave sir 1 I buried sorrow for his death 
In the grave with him. I did never think . 



Hewasintt*w4al--4nougplvowl0se** 
And see no reason why the vicious, 
Virtuous, valiant, and unworthy man, . 
Should die alike. 

Roch. They do not. 

Char. In the manner 
Of dying, sir, they do not, but nil die, 
And therein diffier not : But I have don* 
I spied the lively picture of my father, 
Passing your gallery, and that cast this water 
Into mine eyes: See — foolish that I am, 
To let it do so. 

Roch, Sweet and gentle Nature J 
How silken is this well comparatively 
To other men ; I have a suit to you, sir, 

Char. Take it; 'tis granted. 

Roch. What? 

Char. Nothing, my lord. 

Roch. Nothing is quickly granted. 

Char. Faith, my lord ! 
That nothing granted is even all I have, 
For all know I have nothing left to grant 

Roch. Sir, have you any suit to me i FU grant 
You something, anything. 

Char. Nay, surely, I, that can 
Give nothing, will but sue for that again. 
No man willgrant me anything I sue for. 
But begging; nothing, every map will give it 

Roch. Sir, the love I bore your father, and tat 
worth 
I see in you, so much resembling his, 
Made me thus send for you. And tender here 

[Draws a curiam. 
Whatever you will take, gold, jewels, both, 
All, to supply your wants, and free yourself. 
Where heavenly virtue in high-blooded veins 
Is lodged, and can agree, men should kneel down, 
Adore, and sacrifice all that they have ; 
And well they may, it is so seldom seen. 
Put off your wonder, and here freely take, 
Or send your servants : Nor, sir, shall you use 
In aught of this a poor man's fee, or bribe 
Unjustly taken of the rich, but what's 
Directly gotten, and yet by the law. 

Char. How ill, sir, it becomes those hairs to 
mock! 

Roch. Mock ? thunder strike me then* 

Char. You do amaze me. 
But you shall wonder too; I will not take 
One single piece of this great heap. Why should I 
Borrow, that have not means to pay ; nay, am 
A very bankrupt, even in flattering hope 
Of ever raising any. All my begging 
Is Roniont's liberty. 

Enter Romont, Beaumont, and Creditors, 
haded with money. 

Roch. Here is your friend, 
Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him yo« ; 
And, Charalois, I give you to your friend, 
As free a man as he : Your rather 1 * debt9, 
Are taken o£ 



FlILD.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



•» 



Casr.How? 

Km. Sir, it is most true. 
J en tae witness. 
1 Cred. Yes, faith, we are paid. 
* Cred. Hemn bless bis lordship*! did tank 

cub wiser. 
JCrsdHeasrneBSsnan? He sot ass— pay other 

men's debts? 
1 Cred. That he was never bound for. 
Km. One more such 
Would sate the rest of pleaders. 

Gssr. Honoured Rochfort, 
lie still my tongue, and blushes scald my cheeks, 
last oder thanks in words for such great deeds. 
Back. Call in my daughter : Still I hare a suit 
to you. [Exit Beaumont. 

Would too requite me ? 
Km! With ms lire, I assure you. 
fissL Nay, would you make me now your 
debtor, sir! 

Enter Beaumelle. 

Than my only child: What she appears, 

Ynvloromip well may see: for education, Beau* 

meUe 
Folsws aot any: For her mind, I know k 
To be far fairer than her shape, and hope 
It wffl continue so: If now her birth 
Be aot too mean for Cheralois, take her, 
Has virgin, by the hand, and call her wife, 
Endowed with all my fortunes: Bless me so, 
aejmte me thus, and make me happier, 
k joining my poor empty name to yours, 
Inn if my "state were multiplied tenfold. 

Char. U tins the payment, sir, that you ex- 
pect? 
Why, yoa precipitate me more in debt, 
That nothing but my life can ever pay. 
Has beauty being your daughter Tin which yours 
I Bast conceive necessity of her virtue) 
Without all dowry is a prince's aim. 
Tats, as she it, for poor and worthless me 
How much too worthy ! Waken me, Romont, 
Imt I may know I dreamed, and find this va- 
nfsneo. 

Km. Sure I sleep not. 

Back Your sentence—life or death. 

Ckr. Fair Beanmelle, can you love me ? 

~ " Yes, my lord. 



inter Novalljiia. Povtalier, Ma lot in, Li- 
ladam, and Aymer. — All salute. 

Char. You need not question me if I can you. 
Yoa are the fairest virgin in Dijon, 
Aad Rochfort b your father. 

Mnjun. What's this change? 

Ktek Yon met my wishes, gentlemen, 

AW What make 
TW»eop ro d«tWetshere? 

R»m~i a iMMtiirine mt 

Cmr. Then then, fair BcawHle 1 I write my 
faith, 



Thus seal it in the sight of Heaven and men. 
Your fingers tie my heart-strings with this touch, 
In true-love knots, which nougpt but death shall 

loose. 
And let these tears (an emblem of our loves) 
Like crystal riven individually 
Flow into one another; make one source, 
Which never man distinguish, less divide ! 
Breath mnrry breath, and kisses mingle souls; 
Two hearts and bodies here incorporate ; 
And, though with little wooing I have won, 
My future life shall be a wooing time! 
And every day new as the bridal one. 
Oh, sir ! I groan under your courtesies, 
More than my father's bones under his wrongs. 
You, Cujtius-like, have thrown into the gulf 
Of this his country's foul ingratitude, 
Your life and fortunes, to redeem their shames. 

Rock. No more, my glory ! come, let's in, and 
' hasten 
This celebration. 

Romont, Malotin, PontaUer, and Beaumont.— 
All fair bliss upon it 

[Exeunt Rochfort, CAorciots, Romont 9 

^K^n£B^suefunnjfuuju» • sjs^ownn* AweMsnjewuiej#w* 

Nov.jun. Mistress! 

Boston. Oh servant, virtue strengthen me ! 
Thy presence blows round my affection's vane: 
You will undo me if you speak again. 

[Exit BeaumeUe. 

Lilad. Am. Here will be sport for you. This 
worts. [Exeunt LUadam and Aymer. 

Nov.jun. Peace! peace! % 

Pont. One word, my lord Novell ! 

Nov.jun. What, thou would'st money—there. 

Pont. No, I'll none, I'll not be bought a slave, 
A pandar, or a parasite, for all 
Your father's worth ; though you have saved my 

life, 
Rescued me often from my wants, I must not 
Wink at your follies that will ruin you. 
You know my blunt way, and my love to truth: 
Forsake the pursuit of this lady's honour, . 
Now you do see her made another man's, 
And such a man's ! so good, so popular ; 
Or you will pluck a thousand mischiefs on you. 
The benefits you've done me are not lost, 
Nor cast away; they are pursed here in my 

heart; 
But let me pay you, sir, a fairer way 
Than to defend your vices, or to soothe diem. 

Nov.jun. Ha, ha, ha! what are my courses 
unto thee? 
Good cousin Pontalier, meddle with that 
That shall concern thyself. [Exit NovalL 

Pont. No more but scorn ? 
Move on then, stars ! work your pernicious will ! 
Only the wise rule, and prevent your ilL [Exit. 

Hautboys. — Here a passage aver the stage, while 
the act is playing far the marriage of Char*- 
~ at with BeaumelUf fc. 



*8 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massi^gee Sf 



act m. 



SCENE I. 



' Enter Nov all jun, and Bellapert. 

Nov. jun. Fly not to these excuses : Thou hast 
been 
False in thy promise — and, when I have said 
Ungrateful, all is spoke. 

Bella. Good my lord ! but hear me only. 

Niw.jun. To what purpose, triner? 
Can any thing that thou canst say make void 
The marriage r Or those pleasures but a dream, 
Which Charalois (oh Venus !) hath enjoyed r 

Bella. I yet could say that you receive ad- 
vantage 
In what you think a loss, would you vouchsafe 

me; 
That you were never in the way till now 
With safety to arrive at your desires; 
That pleasure makes love to you, unattended 
By danger or repentance. 

Nov. jun. That I could 
But apprehend one reason how this might be, 
Hope would not then forsake me. 

Bella. The enjoying 
Of what you most desire ; I say the enjoying, 
Shall, in the full possession of your wishes, 
Confirm that I am faithful. 

Nov. jun. Give some relish 
How this may appear possible. 

Bella. I will. 
Relish and taste, and make the banquet easy. 
You say my lady's married — I confess it : 
That Charalois hath enjoyed her — 'tis most true : 
That with her he's already master of 
The best part of my lord's estate. Still better : 
But that the first or last should be your hindrance, 
I utterly deny : For, but observe me, 
While she went for, and was, I swear, a virgin, 
What courtesy could she with her honour give, 
Or you receive with safety? 

Nov. jun. But for her marriage. 

Bella. Tis a fair protection 
'Gainst all arrests ot fear or shame for ever. 
Such as are fair, and yet not foolish, study 
To have one at thirteen ; but they are mad 
That stay till twenty. Then, sir ! for the pleasure ; 
To say adultery is sweeter, that is stale. 
This only— -Is not the contentment more, 
To say, this is my cuckold, than my rival ? 
More I could say — but, briefly, she' doats on you; 
If it prove otherwise, spare not, poison me 
.With the next gold you gyve me. 

Enter Beaumelle. 

Beaumel. How is this, servant? courting my 
woman? 

Bella. As an entrance to 
-The favour of the mistress ; You are together, 
And I am perfect in my cue. [Going. 



Beaumel Stay, Bellapert. 
. Bella. In this I must not, with your leave, 

obey you. 
Your taylor and your tire-woman wait without, 
And stay my counsel and direction for 
Your next day's dressing. I have much to do, 
Nor will your ladyship now, tiiae is precious, 
Continue idle ; this choice lord will find 
So (it employment for you. [AxU Bellapeit. 

BeaumeL I shall grow angry. 

Nov. jun. Not so ; you have a jewel in ben, 
madam ! 

BeaumeL You come to chide me,, servant , and 
bring with you 
Sufficient warrant. You will say, and truly, 
My father found too much obedience in me, 
By being won too soon : Yet, if you please 
But to remember all my hopes and fortunes 
Had reference to his liking, you will grant, 
That though I did not well towards you, I yet ' 
Did wisely for myself. 

Nov. jun. With too much fervour 
I have so long loved, and still love you, mistress 
To esteem that an injury to me, 
Which was to you convenient; that is past 
My help, is past my cure. You yet may, lady, 
In recompence of all my duteous service, 
(Provided that your will answer your power,) 
Become my creditress. 

BeaumeL I understand you ; 
And for assurance the request you make 
Shall not be long unanswered, pray you sit, 
And by what you shall hear, you'll easily find, 
My passions are much fitter to desire 
Than to be sued to. 

Enter Rom ant and Florimel. 

Flor. Sir, it is not envy 
At the start my fellow has got of me in 
My lady's got«n opinion, that is the motive 
Or this discovery ; but due payment 
Of what I owe her honour. 

Rom. So I conceive it. 

Flor. I have observed too much, nor shall my 
" silence 
Prevent the remedy — —yonder they are, 
I dare not lie seen with you. You may do 
What you think lit, which will be, I presume, 
The office of a faithful and tried friend 
To my young lord. [Exit FforimeL 

Rom. This is no vision : Ha ! 

Nov. jun. With the next opportunity. 

BeaumeL By this kiss, and this, and this. 

Nov. jun. That you would ever swear thus! 

Rom. If I seem rude, your pardon, lady ! yours 
I do not ask : Come, do not dare to shew me 
A face of anger, or the least dislike ; 
Put on, and suddenly, a milder look ; 
I shall grow rough else. . . - 



Fl«LD. 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



69 



Nn.ju*. Whst have I done, sir, 
To drew this hush unsavoury language from you? 
Rm. Done, popinjay ? Why, dost thou think 
that, if 
I e'er had dreamt that thou hadst done me 

wrong, 
Tboa shouMst outlive k? 

BeaumeL This is something more 
Than my lord's friendship gives commission for. 
Not. fan. Your presence and the place make 
him presume 
Upon my patience. 

JKml As if thou e'er wert angry 
fiat with thy taylor, and yet that poor shred 
Can faring more to the making up of a man, 
Than can be hoped from thee : Tnou art his crea- 
ture, 
And, did be not each morning new create thee, 
Than woold'st stink and be forgotten. I will 

not change 
One syllable more with thee, until thou bring 
Some testimony, under good men's hands, 
Tboo art a Christian. I suspect thee strongly, 
And will be satisfied: Till which time, keep 

from me. 
The entertainment of your visitation • 
Has made what I intended one a business. 
Ntn.jun. So we shall meet — madam ! 
Aon. -Use that- leg again, and I'll cut off the 

other. 
Noo.jun. Very good. [Exit Nov. 

Ram. So I respect you, 
Not for yourself, but in remembrance of 
Who is your father, and whose wife you now are, 
That I chuse rather not to understand 

Yoor nasty scoff, thai* 

BeaumeL What, you will not beat me, 
If I expound it to you? Here's a tyrant 
spares neither man nor woman. 

Rom. My intents, 
Madam, deserve not this ; nor do T stay 
To be the whetstone of your wit : preserve it 
To spend on such as know how to admire 
bach coloured stuff In mc there is now speaks 

to you, 
As true a friend and servant to your honour, 
And one that will with as much hazard guard it, 
As ever man did goodness. But then, lady ! 
Yon must endeavour, not alone to be, 
Bat to appear, worthy such love and service. 
BeaumeL To what tends this ? 
Am. Why, to this purpose, lady ; 
1 do desire vou should prove such a wife 
To Charalois (and such a one he merits) 
As Csesar, did he live, -could not except at, 
Not only innocent from crime, but free 
From, all taint and suspicion. 
BeaumeL They -are base that judge me other-' 



Rom. Bat yet be careful ! 
Detection is a bold monster, and fears not 
To wound the same of princes, if it find 



But any blemish in their lives to work on : 
But I will be plainer with you : had the people 
Been learnt to speak, but what even now I saw, 
Their malice out of that would raise an engine 
To overthrow your honour. In my sight, 
With yonder painted fool I frighted from you, 
You used familiarity beyond 
A modest entertainment: you embraced him 
With too much ardour for a stranger, and 
Met him with kisses neither chaste nor comely : 
But learn you to forget him, as I will 
Your bounties to him ; you will find it safer 
Rather to be uncourtly than immodest 

Beaumel. This pretty rag about your neck 
shews well, 
And, being coarse and little worth, it speaks you 
As terrible as thrifty. 

Rom. Madam! 

Beaumel. Yes. 
And this strong belt, in which you hang your ho- 
nour, 
Will outlast twenty scarfs. 

Ram. What mean you, lady ? 

BeaumeL And all else about you cap-a-pee, 
So uniform in spite of handsomeness, 
Shews such a bold contempt of comeliness, 
That it is not strange your laundress in the 

Leaguer 
Grew mad with love of you. 

Rom. Is my free counsel 
Answered with this ridiculous scorn? 

BeaumeL These objects 
Stole very much of my attention from me ; 
Yet something I remember, to speak truth, 
Delivered gravely, but to little purpose, 
That almost would have made me swear, soma 

curate 
Had stolen into the person of Romont, 
And, in the praise of good-wife honesty, . 
Had read an homily. 

Rom. By this hand 

BeaumeL And sword ; 
I will make up your oath, it will want weight else. 
You are angry with me, and poor I laugh at it. 
Do you come from the camp, which affords only 
The conversation of cast suburb whores, 
To set down to a lady of my rank 
Limits of entertainment ? 

Rom. Sure a legion has possest this woman. 

BeaumeL One stamp more would do well : yet 
I desire not 
You should grow horn-mad till you have a wife. 
You are come to warm meat, and perhaps clean 

. linen: 
Feed, wear it, and be thankful. For me, know, 
That though a thousand watches were set on me, 
And you tne master-spy, I yet would use 
The liberty that best likes ine. I will revel, 
Feast, kiss, embrace. Perhaps, grant larger fa- 
vours. 
Yet such as live upon my means, shall know 
They must not murmur at it. If my lord 



90 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[MA89INOII 4 



Be now grown yellow, and has chose out you 
To serve his jealousy that way, tetl him this. 
You have something to inform him. 

[Exit BeaumeUe. 
Rom. And I will ? 
Believe it, wicked one, I wilJ. Hear, heaven ! 
But, hearing, pardon me : if these fruits grow 
Upon the tree of marriage, let me shun it, 
As a forbidden sweet. An heir and rich, 
Young, beautiful ; yet add to this, a wife, 
And I will rather chuse a spital sinner, 
Carted an age before, thougn three parts rotten, 
And take it for a blessing, rather than 
Be fettered to the hellish slavery 
Of such an impudence. 

Enter Beaumont with writings. 

Beaum. Colonel ! good fortune 
To meet you thus : you look sad, but I will tell 

you 
Something that shall remove it O how happy 
Is my lord Charalois in his fair bride ! 

Rom. A happy man indeed ! pray you in 
what? 

Beaum. I dare swear, you would think so good 
a lady 
A dower sufficient 

Roth. No doubt. But on. 

Beaum. So fair, so chaste, so virtuous: indeed 
All that is excellent 

Rom. Women have no cunning to gull the 
world ! 

Beaum. Yet to all these, my lord, 
Her father gives the full addition of 
All he does now possess in Burgundy : 
These writings to confirm it are new sealed, 
And I most fortunate to present him with them ; 
I must go seek him out; can yon direct me ? 

Rom. You will find him breaking a young horse. 

Beaum. I thank you. [Exit Beaumont. 

Rom. I must do something worthy Charalois' 
friendship. 
If she were well inclined, to keep her so 
Deserved not thanks : and yet, to stay a woman, 
Spurred headlong by hot lust to her own ruin, 
Is harder than to prop a falling tower 
With a deceiving reea. 

Enter Rochfort. 

Roch. Some one seek for me, 
As soon as he returns. 

Rom. Her father ! ha ! 

How if I break this to him ? Sure it cannot 
Meet with an ill construction. His wisdom, 
Made powerful by the authority of a father, 
Will warrant and give priviledge to his counsels. 
It shall be so— my lord ! 

Roch. Your friend, Romont : 
Would you aught with me? 

Rom. I stand so engaged 
To your so many favours, that I hold it 
A breach in thankfulness, should I not discover, 



Though with some imputation to myself. 
All doubts that may concern you. 

Roch. The performance 
Will make this protestation worth my thanks. 

Rom. Then, with your patience, lend me year 
attention: 
For what I must deliver, whispered only, 
You will with too much grief receive. 

Enter Beauicelle and Bellapext. 

Beaumel. See, wench! 
Upon my life as I forespake, he's now 
Preferring his complaint : But be thou perfect^ 
And we will fit him. 

Bella. Fear not me, pox on him ! 
A captain turned informer against kissing? 
Would he were hanged up in his rusty armour ! 
But^ if our fresh wits cannot turn the plots 
Of such a mouldy murrion on itself, 
Rich clothes, choice fare, and a true friend at a call, 
Forsake us. 

Roch. This m my daughter ? Do not wrong her. 

Bella. Now begin. 
The game's afoot, and we in distance. 

BeaumeL lis thy fault, foolish girl 2 pin on my 
veil, 
I will not wear those jewels. Am I not 
Already matched beyond my hopes ? Yet still 
You prune and set me forth, as if 1 were 
Again to please * suitor. 

Bella. Tis the course 
That our great ladies take* 

Rom. A weak excuse ! 

Beaumel. Those that are better seen, in what 
concerns 
A lady's honour and fair fame, condemn k. 
You wait well : in your absence, my lord's friend, 
The understanding grave and wise Bonmons— 

Rom. Must I be still her sport? [Aide. 

Beaumel. Reproved me for it; 
And he has travelled to bring home a judgment, 
Not to be contradicted. You will say 
My father, that owes more to years than he, 
Has brought me up to music, language, court* 

ship, 
And I must use them. True, but not to otiend, 
Or render me suspected. 

Roch. Does your fine story begin from this ? 

Beaumel. I thought a parting kiss 
From young Novall would have displeased no 

more 
Than heretofore it hath done ; but I find 
I must restrain such favours now; look, therefore, 
As you are careful to continue mine, 
That I no more be visited. I'll endure 
The strictest course of life that jealousy 
Can think secure enough, ere my behaviour 
Shall call my fame in question. 

Rom. Ten dissemblers 
Are in this subtle devil. You believe this ? 

Roch. So far, that if you trouble me 
With a report like this, I shall not only 



Field.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



St 



ledge mi nn&toos in your disposition, 
Bat study to repent what I have done 
To juch a nature. 
Rom. Why, 'tis exceeding well. 
Bock. And for yon* daughter, off with this ; off 
with it; 
I foe that confidence in your goodness, I, 
That I will not consent to have you live 
Like to a rednse in a cloister : Go, 
Call m the gallants, let them make you merry, 
Use all fit liberty. 

Beik. Blessing on yon. 
If this new preacher, with the sword and feather, 
CoaW prove his doctrine for canonical, 
We shooJd have a fine world. [Exit Bellapert. 

Rock Sir, if yon please 
To bear yourself as fits a gentleman, 
The some is at your service ; but, if not, 
Thosga yea seek company ebewheqe, your ab- 



Wl set be much lamented [Exit Rockfort . 

AW If mis be 
He irr— lyme of striving to preserve 
A wa at sn gpgglet honest, very shortly 
TVbD make aU mankind pandars. — Do you smile, 
Good lady looseness ? Your whole sex is like you, 
Asd that man's mad that seeks to better any : 
What new change have you next? 

BeamcL Oh, fear not you, sir ! 
m shift into a thousand, but I will 
Convert your heresy. 

Rom. What heresy? speak! 

BummeL Of keeping a lady that is married, 
Aon entertaining servants. 

XaUr Novall jun. Malotiv, Liladam, Ay- 

MK&, and POMTALIEB. 

0, you're welcome. 

Usb any means to vex him, 

And then with welcome follow me. 

[Exit Beaumel. 

Xop.jmn. You are tired 
With your grave exhortations, colonel ! 

lihi . How is it ? Faith, your lordship may do 
wefl 
To hob mat to some church-preferment : Tis 
Hew the fashion for men of all conditions, 
However they have lived, to end that way. 

•dancr. That face would do well in a surplice. 

ml Rogues, besitent-~or — 

Pmt. S*death ! will you suffer mis? 

Rom. And you, the master rogue, the coward 



I shall be with yon suddenly. 

Nn.jmu. Pontalier, 
IT I should strike him, I know I shall kill him : 
And therefore I would have thee beat him, for 
H* is good for nothing else. 

LUmt His back 
Appears to me, as it would tire a beadle. 
And then he has m knotted brow, would bruise 
A court-like hand to touch it 



Aymer. He looks like 
A currier, when his hide's grown dear* 

Pont. Take heed he curry not some of yon. 

Nov. jun. Gads me ! he is angry. 

Rom. I break no jests, but lean break my 
sword 
About your pates. 

Enter Chaeawh* and Beaumont, 

LikuL Here is more. 

Aymer. Come, let us be gone ! 
We are beleaguered. 

Nov. jun* Cook, they bring up their troops. 

Pont. Will you sit down with this disgrace ? 
You are abused most grossly. 

LUad. I grant you, sir, we are; and you would 
have us 
Stay, and be more abused. 

Nov. jun. My lord, I am sorry 
Your house is so inhospitable, we most quit it 
[Exeunt. Moment Charalou and RomonL 

Char. Prythee, Romont, what caused this up- 
roar? 

Rom. Nothing. 
They laughed and used their scurvy wits upon me. 

Char. Come, 'tis thy jealous nature : but I 
wonder 
That you, which are an honest man and worthy, 
Should foster mis suspicion. No man laughs, 
No one can whisper, but thou apprehendest 
His conference and his scorn reflects on thee. 
For my party they should scoff their thin wits out, 
60 I not heard them ; beat me, not being there. 
Leave, leave these fits to conscious men, to such 
As are obnoxious to those foolish things 
As they can gibe at 

Rom. Well, sir? 

Char. Thou art known 
Valiant without defect, rightly defined, 
Which is (as fearing to do injury, 
As tender to endure it) not a brabbler, 
A swearer. 

Rom. Pish, pish ! what needs this, my lord I 
If I be known none such, how vainly you 
Do cast away good counsel ? 1 have loved yon, 
And yet must freely speak : So young a tutor 
Fits not so old a soldier as I am. 
And I must tell you, 'twas in your behalf 
I grew enraged thus ; yet had rather die 
Than open the great cause a syllable further. 

Char. In my behalf? Wherein hath Charalois 
Unfitly so demeaned himself, to give 
The least occasion to the loosest tongue 
To throw aspersions on him ? Or so weakly 
Protected his own honour, as it should 
Need defence from any but himself? 
They're fools that judge me by my outward 

seeming; 
Why should my gentleness beget abuse ? 
The lion is not angry that does sleep, 
Nor every man a coward that can weep. 
For God's sake speak the cause. 



92 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massikger 4r 



Rom. Not for the world. 
Oh ! it will strike disease into your bones, 
Beyond the cure of physick ; drink your blood, 
Rob you of all your rest, contract your sight, 
Leave you no eyes but to see misery, 
And of your own ; nor speech, but to wish thus, 
Would 1 had perished in the prison's jaw $ y 
From whence I was redeemed / Twill wear you old, 
Before you have experience in that art 
That causes your affliction. 

Char. Thou dost strike 
A deathful coldness to ray heart's high heat, 
And shrinkest my liver like the calenture. 
Declare this foe of mine, and life's, that like 
A man I may encounter and subdue it 
It shall not have one such effect in mc 
,As thou denouncest : With a soldier's arm, 
If it be strength, Til meet it : 
If a fault belonging to my mind, I'll cut it off 
With mine own reason as a scholar should. 
—Speak, though it make me monstrous. 

* Rom. Ill die first. 

Farewell ! continue merry, and high heaven 
Keep your wife chaste. 

• Char. Hum ! — Stay, and take this wolf 

Out of my breast, that thou hast Jodged there, or 
For ever lose ine. 
, Rom. Lose not, sir, yourself, 
And I will venture — so the door is fast. 

[Locks the door. 
Now, noble Charalois, collect yourself; 
Summon your spirits ; muster all your strength 
That can belong to man ; sift passion 
From every vein, and, whatsoe'er ensues, 
Upbraid not me hereafter, as the cause of 
Jealousy, discontent, slaughter and ruin : 
Make me not parent to sin : — You will know 
This secret that I burn with ? 

Char. Devil on't, 
What should it be ? Romont, I hear you wish 
My wife's continuance of chastity. 

Rom. There was no hurt in that. 

Char. Why, do you know 
A likelihood or possibility unto the contrary ? 

Rom. I know it not, but doubt it; these the 
grounds. • 
The servant of your wife now, young Novall, 
The son unto your father's enemy, 
(Which aggravates my presumption the more) 
I have been warned of, touching her ; nay, seen 

them 
Tie heart to. heart, one in another's arms, 
Multiplying kisses, as if they meant 
To pose arithmetic, or whose eyes would 
Be first burnt out with gazing on die other's. 
I saw their months engender, and their palms 
Glewcd, as if love had locked them ; their words 

flow 
And melt each other's, like two circling flames, 
Where chastity, like a phoenix, mcthought, 

burned, 
But left the world nor ashes nor an heir. 



Why stand you silent thus? What cold dull 

phlegm, 
As if you had no drop of choler mixed 
In your whole constitution, thus prevails, 
To fix you now thus stupid, hearing this? 

Char. Ha ! h* ! ha ! 

Rom. Laugh you ! E'en so did your wife, 
And her indulgent father. 

Char. They were wise. 
Would'st have me bo a fool ? 

Rom. No, but a man. 

Char. There is no dram of manhood to suspect, 
On such thin airy circumstance as this ; 
Mere compliment and courtship. Was this tale 
The hideous monster which you so concealed? 
Away, thou curious impertinent, 
And idle searcher of such lean nice toys ! 
Go, thou seditious sower of debate ! 
Fly to such matches, where the bridgroom doubts 
He holds not worth enough to countervail 
The virtue .and the beauty of his wife. 
Thou buzzing drone, that 'bout my ears dost 

hum, 
To strike thy rankling sting into my heart, 
Whose venom, time nor medicine could assuage; 
Thus do I put thee off, and, confident 
In mine own innocency and desert, 
Dare not conceive her so unreasonabley 
To put Novall in balance against me, . 
An upstart, craned up to the height be has. 
Hence, busy body ! tnou'rt no friend to me, 
That must be kept to a wife's injury. 

Rom. I'st possible ? — Farewell fine honest man ! 
Sweet tempered lord, adieu ! What apoplexy 
Hath knit sense up ? Is this Romont's reward?. 
Bear witness, the great spirit of thy father, 
With what a healthful hope I did administer 
This potion, that hath wrought so virulently ! 
I not accuse thy wife of act, but would 
Prcvcut her precipice to thy dishonour, . 
Which now thy tardy sluggishness will admit ! 
Would I had seen thee graved with thy great 

sire, 
Ere lire to have men's marginal fingers point. 
At Charalois, as a lamented story. 
An .emperor put away his wife for touching 
Another man; but thou wouldst have thm* 

.tasted, 
And keep her, I think. Phoh I I am a fire 
To warm a dead man, that waste out myself. 
Blood ! — What a plague, a vengeance, is'ttome, 
If you will be a cuckold ? Here 1 shew 
A sword's point to thee ; this side you may shun^ 
Or that, the peril ; if you will run on, 
I <cannot help it. 

Char. Didst thou never see me 
Angry, Romont ? 

Rom. Yes, and pursue a foe 
Like lightning. 

Char* Prithee see me so no more. 
I can be so again. — Put up thy sword, 
And take thyself away^ lest I draw mine. 



Field.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



93 



Come, frtfu your foe. with this, air; I 
am jour friend, 
And dare stand by you thus. 

CUr. Thoa'rt not my friend ; 
Or being so, thoa'rt maid. — I must not buy 
Thr friendship at this rate ; had I just cause, 
Thou knowest I durst pursue such injury 
Hiroogh fire, air, water, earth, nay, were they all 
Shuffled again to chaos; but there's none. 
Thy skill, Romont, consists in camps, not courts. 
Farewell, uncivil man ! let's meet no more. 
Here our long web of friendship I untwist. 
Shall I sp whine, walk pale, and lock my wife 



For nothing, from her birth's free liberty, 
That opened mine to me ? Yes ; if I do- 



The name of cuckold then dog me with scorn. 
I am a Frenchman, no Italian born. [Exit. 

Rom. A dull Dutch rather : — Fall and cool my 
blood! 
Boil not in zeal of thy friend's hurt so high, 
That is so low, and cold himself in it ! woman, 
How strong art thou ! how easily beguiled ! 
How thou dost rack us bv the very horns ! 
Now wealth, I see, change manners and the man! 
Something I must do, mine own wrath to assuage, 
1 And note my friendship to an after-age. [Eiit. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. 



Eater Xovall jun. as newly dressed, a Taylor, 
Bsrter, Perfumer, Liladam, Aymer, and Page. 

Sev.jmn. Mend this a little : Pox ! thou hast 
karat me. Oh ! fie upon it ! — O lard ! he has 
made me smell, for all the world, like a flax, or a 
red-headed woman's chamber : Powder, powder, 
powder. 

Perf. Oli, sweet lord ! 

[Novall sits in a chair, barber orders his 
hair, perfumer gives powder, tailor 
sets clothes. 

Page. That's his perfumer. 

TayL Oh, dear lord ! 

Page. Hiat's his taylor. 

Nov. jun. Monsieur liladam! Aymer! how 
abW yen the model of these clothes? 

Aymer. Admirably, admirably ; oh, sweet lord ! 
assuredly it is pity the worms should eat thee. 

Page. Here is a fine cell ; a lord, a taylor, a 
perfumer, a barber, and a pair of monsicurs : 
three to three, as little wit in the one, as hones- 
ty in the other. S'foot I'll into the country again, 
learn to speak truth, drink ale, and converse with 
my fathers tenants: here I hear nothing all day, 
hut— upon my soul ! as I am a gcutlcman, ami 
aa honest man ! 

Aimer. I tow and affirm, your taylor must 
aeeab be an expert geometrician; he has the 
Wneitude, latitude, altitude, profundity, every di- 
mension of your body, so exquisitely. — Here is a 
hoe laid as directly, as if truth were a taylor 

Page, That were a miracle. 

LiHuL With a hair's breadth's error, there is a 
shoulder-piece cut, and the base of a pickadille 
iopoDCto. 

Aymer. You are right, monsieur, liis vest- 
ments ait as if they grew upon him ; or art had 
wrought them on the same loom, as nature fram- 
ed his lordship ; as if your taylor were deeply 
read in astrology, and had taken measure of your 
hwMirable body, with a Jacob's staff, an eplume- 
ndes. 

TayL I am bound to ye, gentlemen ! 



Page, You are deceived ; they will be bound 
to you : You must remember to trust them none. 

Nov. jun. Nay, 'faith, thou art a reasonable, 
nent artificer, give the devil his due. 

Page . Aye, if he would but cut the coat accord- 
ing to the cloth still. 

Nov. jun. I now want only my mistress's ap- 
probation, who is, indeed, the most polite punc- 
tual queen of dressing in all Burgundy. Pah, and 
makes all other young ladies appear as if they 
came from board last week out of the country. 
Is it not true, liladam ? 

Lilad. True, my lord! as if any thing your 
lordship could say, could be otherwise than true. 

Nov. jun. Nay, o'mv soul, it is so; what fouler 
object in the world, than to see a young, fair, 
handsome beauty, unhandsomely dighted, and 
incongruentlv accoutcred ; or u hopeful chevalier, 
unmethodically appointed, in the external orna- 
ments of nature ? For, even as the index tells us 
the contents of stories, and directs to the parti- 
cular chapters, even so does the outward habit: 
and superficial order of garments (in man or wo- 
man), give us a taste of the spirit, and demon- 
stratively point (as it were a manual note from 
the margin) all the internal quality and habili- 
ment of die soul ; and there cannot be a more 
evident, palpable, gross manifestation of poor, de- 
generate, d unguilty blood and breeding, than a 
rude, unpolished, disordered, and slovenly outside. 

Page. Au admirable lecture ! ah, all you gal- 
lants, that hope to be saved by your clothes, edi- 
fy, edify ! 

" Aymer. By the lard, sweet lard ! thou deser- 
vest a pension of the state. 

Page. (>' the taylors; two such lords were 
able to spread taylors over the face of a whole 
kingdom. 

Nov. jun. 'Pox o' this glass ! It flatters. — I could 
find in my heart to break it. 

Page. O, save the glass, my lord ! and break 
their heads : They are the great flatterers, I as- 
sure you. 

Aymer. Flatters ! detracts, impairs.— Yet, put 
it bye, 



94 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massing** 4 



Lest thou, dear lord, Narcissus-like, should dost 
Upon thyself, and die ; and rob the world 
Of Nature's copy, that she works forms by. 

LUad. Oh, that I were the infanta queen of 
Europe! 
Who, but thyself, sweet lord, should marry me ! 

Nov. jun* I marry? Were there a queen of the 
world, not I. 
Wedlock? No, padlock; horse-lock; I wear spurs 

[He capers. 
To keep it off my heels ; yes, my Aymer ! 
like a free, wanton jennet in the meadows, 
I look about, and neigh, take hedge and ditch, 
Feed in my neighbour's pastures ; pick my choice 
Of all their fair maned mares: But, married once, 
A man is staked or pounded, and cannot graze 
Beyond his own hedge 

Enter Pontalier and Malotin. 

Pont. I have waited, sir, 
Three hours to speak with you, and take it not 

well, 
Such magpies are admitted, whilst I dance 
Attendance. 

LUad. Magpies ! What do ye take me for ! 

Pont. A long thing, with a most unpromising 
face. 

Aymer. Fll never ask him what he takes me 
for. 

Matot. Do not, sir ! 
For hell go near to tell you. 

Pont. Art not thou a barber-surgeon ! 

Barb. Yes, sirrah ! why ? 

Pont. My lord is sorely troubled with two 
scabs. 

LUad. Aymer. Hump h 

Pont. I prythee, cure him of them. 

Nov. jun. Pish ! no more ; 
Thy gall sure is overflown : These are my council, 
And we were now in serious discourse. 

Pont. Of perfume and apparel. Can you rise, 
And spend five hours in dressing-talk with these? 

Nov. jun. Thou wouldst have me be a dog : 
Up, stretch, and shake, 
And ready for all day. 

Pont. Sir ! would you be 
More curious in preserving of your honour 
Trim, 'twere more manly. I am come to wake 
Your reputation from this lethargy 
You let it sleep in; to persuade, importune, 
Nay, to provoke you, sir ! to call to account 
This colonel Romont, for the foul wrong, 
Which, like a burden, he hath laid on you, 
And, like a drunken porter, you sleep under. 
Tis all the town-talk ; and, believe, sir, 
If your tough sense persist thus, you are undone, 
Utterly lost; you will be scorned and baffled 
By every lacquey ; season now your youth 
With one brave thing, and it shall keep the odour 
Even to your death, beyond ; and on your tomb, 
Scent tike sweet oss and frankincense : Sir ! this 
life, 

8 



Which once you saved, 1 never since counted 



mine; 



I borrowed it of you, and now will pay it ; 
I tender you the service of my sword 
To bear your challenge ; if you'll write, your fate 
111 make mine own ! Whate'er betide voo, I, 
That have lived by you, by your side will die. 
Nov. jun. Ha ! ha ! wouldst hare me challenge 
poor Romont : 
Fight with close breeches? Thou imr/st think I 

dare not; 
Do not mistake me, cos : Fm very valiaat ; 
But valour shall not make me such an ass* 
What use is there of valour now-a-days ? 
Tis sure, or to be killed, or to be hanged. 
Fight thou as thy mind moves thee ; 'tis thy trade : 
Thou hast nothing else to do. Fight with Ro- 
mont? 
No, Fll not fight under a lord. 

Pont. Farewell, sir ! I pity you. 
Such loving lords walk their dead honour's graves, 
For no companions fit, but fools and knaves. 
Come, Malotin. [Exeunt PontaUerand Mmlatku 

Enter Romont. 

LUad. *Sfoot, Colbrand, the low giant ! 

Aymer. He has brought a battle in his face; 
let's go. 

Page. Colbrand, do you call bin ? Hell make 
some of you smoke, I believe. 

Rom. By your leave, sirs ! 

Aymer. Are you a concert ? 

Horn. Do you take me for 
A fidler ? you are deceived : Look. HI par you. 

[Kick* him* 

Page. It seems he knows you one, he bamfid- 
dles you so. 

LUaa\ Was there ever so base a fellow ? 

Aymer. A rascal. 

LUad. A most uncivil groom ! 

Aymer. Offer to kick a gentleman hi a noble- 
man's 
Chamber ! A-pox of your manners. 

LUad. Let him alone, let him alone, thou 
shalt lose thy aim, fellow f if we stir against thee, 
hang us. 

Page. 'Sfoot, I think they have the better of 
him, though they be kicked, they talk so* 

LUad. Let us leave the mad ape. 

Nov. jun. Gentlemen! 

LUad. Nay, my lord ! we will not offer to dis- 
honour you so much as to stay by you, since he's 
alone. 

Nov. jun. Hark ^ou. 

Aymer. We doubt the cause, and will not dis-\ 
parage you so much as to take your lordship's 
quarrel in hand. Plague on him, how he has 
crumpled our bands. 

Page.VM e'en away with them> for this sol- 
dier bears 
Man, woman, and child. 

[E*e*nt aU but NovuUand Rownmt. 



Field.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



93 



Smxjn. What mean you, air? My people! 
Bm Your boy is gone, 

[Locks the door. 
Aad door m locked, yet for no hurt to you, 
But privacy: call up your blood again, sir ! 
And therefore come without more circumstance, 
Teff me bow far the passages have gone 
Twixt you aad your fair mistress Beaumelle. 
Tell me the truth, and, by my hope of Heaven, 
It aerer shall go farther. 

Mnjun. Tell you? Why, sir? 
Are jpou my confessor ? 
am. I will be your confoonder, if you do not 

[Dram a pocket dagger. 
Stir not, nor spend your voice, 
ttajan. What wilt you do? 
Bom, Nothing but line your brain-pan, air ! 

If yoo not satisfy me suddenly. 
I an desperate of nay life, and command yours. 
Jfeye*. Hold! hold! HI speak. I vow to 
Heaven and you, 
She's yet untouched, more than her face and 

hands. 
I cnaot call her innocent; for, I yield, 
On my solicitous wooing she consented, 
Where time and place met opportunity, 
To grant me all requests. 
Rom. But, may I build 
Oaths assurance? 
N09.JU*. As upon your faith. 
Mom. Write this, sir ! nay, vou must 

[Draws mkhorn and paper. 
Moo. jam. Pox of this gun. 
Bam. Withall, sir ! you must swear, and put 
your o at h 
Under your hand, (shake not) ne'er to frequent 
Tha laiy s company ; nor ever send 
Token, or message, or letter, to incline 
Tab (too much prone already) yielding lady. 
No*, jam. 'fis done, sir! 
Bam. Let me see — this first is right; 
Aad here you wish a sudden death may light 
Upon your body, and hell take your soul, 
If ever more you see her but by chance, 
Hack less allure her. Now, my lord! your hand. 
Xoc.ju*. My hand to this? 
Bam. Your heart else, I assure you. 
Nov.jun. Nay, there 'tis. 
Rmu. So, keep this fast article 
Of your faith given, and instead of threatenings, 



ar. 



The service of my sword aad life is yours: 
fat not a word cif it — 'tis fairies' treasure; 
Which, but revealed, brings on the blabber's ruin, 
flat wjar youth better, and this excellent form 
Hearo bub bestowed upon you. So, good mor- 
row to your lordship. [Exit. 
Nov.jun. Good devil to your rogueship. No 
man's safe . 
TO have aeaimofi planted in my chamber 



Enter Bellapert. 

Bella. My lord, away !— 
The coach stays : Now have your wish, and judge 
If I have been forgetful 

Nov.jun. Ha! 

Bella. Do vou stand » 

Humming and hawing now ! [Exit. 

Nov.jun. Sweet wench, I come. 
Hence, fear ! 

I swore, — that's all one; my next oath I'll keep 
That I did mean to break, and then 'tis quit 
No pain is due to lovers' perjury : 
If Jove himself laugh at it, so will I. [Exit NovalL 

SCENE IL 

Enter Cbaralois and Beau no* r. 

Beaum. I grieve for the distaste 
(Though I have manners 
Not to inquire the cause) fallen out between 
Your lordship and Romont 

Char. I love a friend, 
So long as he continues in the bounds 
Prescribed by friendship ; but, when he usurps 
Too far what is proper to myself, 
And puts the habit of a governor on, 
I must and will preserve my liberty. ' 
But speak of something else ; this is a theme 
I take no pleasure in : Whales this Aymer? 
Whose voice for song, and excellent knowledge in 
The chiefest parts of music, you bestow 
Such praises on ? 

Beaum. He is a gentleman, 
(For so his quality speaks him) well received 
Among our greatest gallants ; but yet holds 
His main dependance from the young lord No- 

valL 
Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head, 
As all musicians have, and more of him 
I dare not author : But, when you have heard 

him, 
I may presume your lordship so will like him, 
That you'll hereafter be a friend to music. 

Char. I never was an enemy to it, Beaumont ; 
Nor yet do I subscribe to the opinion 
Of those old captains, that thought nothing musi- 
cal, 
But cries of yielding enemies, neighing of horses, 
Clashing of armour, loud shouts, drums aad 

trumpets : 
Nor, on the other side, in favour of it, 
Affirm the world was made by musical discord, 
Or that the happiness of our life consists 
In a well-varied note upon the lute : 
I love it to the worth of it, and no farther. 
But let us see this wonder, 

Beaum. He prevents my calling of him. 

Enter Aymer. 

Aymer. Let the coach be brought 
To the back gate, and serve the banquet up : 



06 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massincee If 



My good lord Cliaralois ! I think my house 
Much honoured in your presence. 

Char. To have means 
To know you better, sir, has brought rac hither, 
A willing visitant ; and you'll crown my welcome 
In making me a witness to your skill, 
Which, crediting from others, I admire. 
. Aymer. Had I been one hour sooner made ac- 
quainted 
With your intent, my lord, you should have found 

me 
Better provided : Now, such as it is, 
Pray you grace with your acceptance. 
. Beaum. You are modest 

Aymer. Begin the last new air. 

Char. Shall we not see them ? 

Aymer. This little distance from the. instru- 
ments 
Will to your ears convey the harmony 
With more delight. 

Char. I'll not contend. 

Aymer. You are tedious. — 
By this means shall I with one banquet please 
Two companies, those within, and these gulls here. 

[Music, and a tong above. 

Beaumel. within. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Char. How's this? It is my lady's laugh,, most 

certain 

When I first pleased her, in this merry Language, 
She gave me thanks. 

Beaum. How like you this? 

Char. 'Tis rare 

Yet I may be deceived, and should be sorry, 
Upon uncertain suppositions, rashly . 
To write myself in the black list oi' those 
I have declaimed against, and to Roinont. 

Aymer. I would he were well off. Perhaps 
your lordship 
likes not these sad tunes : I have a new song, 
Set to a lighter note, may please you better ; 
Tis called The Happy Husband. 

Char. Pray sing it. 

Song below. — At the end of the song, Beau- 
mel le within. 

Beaumel. Ha ! ha ! 'tis such a groom. 

Char. Do I hear this, 
And yet stand doubtful ? [Exit Charalois. 

Aymer. Stay him ! — I am undone, 
And they discovered. 

Beaum. What's the matter? 

Aymer. Ah ! 
That women, when they're pleased, cannot hold, 
But must laugh out. 

Enter Nov all jun. Charalois, Beaum elle, 
and Bellapert. 

Nov. jun. Help! save me! murder! murder! 

Bella. Undone for ever ! 

Char. Oh, my heart ! 
Hold yet a little. Do not hope to escape 
By flight, it is impossible : Though I might 

3 



On all advantage take thy life, and justly, 
This sword, my father's sword, that ne'er was 

drawn 
But to a noble purpose, shall not now 
Do the office ot a hangman ; I reserve it 
To right mine honour, not for a revenge 
So poor, that though with thee it should cat off 
Thy family, with all that arc allied 
To* thee in lust or baseness, 'twere still short of 
All terms of satisfaction. Draw ! 

Nov. jun. I dare not - 
I have already done you too much wrong 
To fight in such a cause. 

Char. Why, darest thou neither 
Be honest coward, nor yet valiant knave ? 
In such a cause ! come, do not shame thyself; 
Such whose blood's wrongs, or wrong dope t» 

themselves, 
Could never heat, are yet, in the defence 
Of their whores, daring. Look on her again. 
You thought her worth the hazard of your soul* 
And yet stand doubtful, in her quarrel, to 
Venture your body. 

Beaum. No, he fears his clothes 
More than his flesh. 

Char. Keep from me : Guard thy life; 
Or, as thou hast lived like a goat, thou shalt 
Die like a sheep. 

Nov. jun. Since there is no remedy, 
Despair of safety now in me prove courage ! 

[Theyjigkt. Novail is slun. 

Char. How soon weak wrong's o'ertkrown! 
Lend me your hand ; 
Bear this to the caroch — Come, you have taagbt 

me 
To say, you must and shall : I wrong you not; 
You are but to keep company you love. 
— Is't done ? 'tis well. liaise officers ! and take 

care, 
All you can apprehend within the house 
May be forth-coming. Do I appear much moved? 

Beaum. No, sir. 

to be borne; 

to mourn. 

[Exeunt. 



XKUMflft 11U) Ml  

Char. My griefs are now- thus t 
Hereafter 1 11 find time and place 



SCENE III. 

Enter Romont and Pont alter. 

Pont. I was bound to seek you, sir. 

Rom. And, had you found me 
In any place but in the street, I should 
Have done, not talked to you. Are you the cap- 
tain? 
The hopeful Pontalier? whom I have seen 
Do in the field such service, as then made you 
Their envy that commanded, here at home 
To play the parasite to a gilded knave. 
And, it may be, the jpandar? 

Pont. Without this, 
I come to call you to account for what 
Is past already.* I, by your example 



FlILD.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



97 



Of llisnrfnlami to me dead general, 

By whan 790 were raised, have practised to be to 

To my nod lord Novall, by wham I live ; 

Whose least disgrace, that is or may be onered, 

WfchaU tntnvard of my life and fortunes, 

I will make good on you, or any man 

That has a hand m't : and, since you allow me 

A gentleman and a soldier, there's no doubt 

Yob will except against me. You shall meet 

With a fair enemy; you understand 

The right I look tor, and must hare. 

Jim. I do; 
And with the next day's sun you shall hear from 
me. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. 

lain Chajulois with a auket, Beaumelle 
and Beaumost. 

Oar. Play bear this to my father ; at his leisure 
He nay peruse it : Bui; with your best language, 
Intreat ms instant presence. You have sworn 
Not to reveal what I have done. 

BeouL Nor will I — but— 

Char. Doubt me not. By Heaven, I will do 
nothing 
Int what may stand with honour. Pray you, 
leave me 

[Exit Beaumont. 
To aw own thoughts. — if this be to me, rise : 

[BeaumeL kneels. 
I am not worthy the looking on, but only 
To feed contempt and acorn ; and that from you, 
Who with the toes of your fair name have caused it, 
Were too much cruelty. 

BeaumeL I dare not move you 
To hear me speak. I know my fault is far 
Beyond qualification or excuse ; 
That 'tis not lit for me to hope, or you 
To think of mercy; only I presume 
To entreat you would be pleased to look upon 
My sorrow for it, and believe these tears 
Are the true children of my grief, 
Aad not a woman's cunning. 

Char. Can you, Beaumelle, 
Havine deceived so great a trust as mine, 
Though I were all credulity, hope again 
To get belief? No, no ; if you look on me 
With pity, or dare practise any means 
To make my suffering* less, or give just cause 
To ail the world to mink what I must do, 
Was catted upon by you, use other ways ; 
Deny what I have seen, or justify 
What you have done; and, as you desperately 
Bade shipwreck of your faith, to be a whore, 
At the arms of such a one, and such defence, 
And multiply the am with impudence. 
&md boldly up, and tell me to my teeth, 
■that you have done but what is warranted 
By great examples, in all places where 
Women inhabit : Urge your own deserts, 
^eaat in me of merit : Tell me how 
Tour dower, from the low gulf of poverty, 

Vet. 1. 



Weighed up my fortunes to what now they are : 
That I was purchased by your choice and practice 
To shelter you from shame, that you might sin 
As boldly as securely ; that poor men 
Are married to those wives that bring them 

wealth, 
One day their husbands, but observers ever : 
That when by this proud usage you have blown 
The fire of my just vengeance to the height, 
I then may kill you ; and yet soy, it was done 
In heat of blood, and after die myself 
To witness my repentance* 

BeaumeL O my fate ! 
That never would consent that I should see 
How worthy thou wert both of love and duty, 
Before I lost you ; and my misery made 
The glass, in which I now behold your virtue ! 
While I was good I was a part of you, 
And of two, by the virtuous harmony 
Of our fair minds, made one : But, since I wan- 

. dered 
In the forbidden labyrinth of lust, 
What was inseparable is by me divided. 
With justice, tnerefore, you may cut me off, 
And from your memory wash the remembrance 
That e'er I was; like to some vicious purpose, 
Which, in your better judgment, you repent of, 
And study to forget 

Char. O Beaumelle ! 
That you can speak so well and do so ill ! 
But you had been too great a blessing, if 
You had continued chaste : See now you force 

me 
To this, because mine honour wiU not yield 
That I again should love you. 

BeaumeL In this life 
It is not fit you should : Yet you shaH find* 
Though I was bold enough to be a strumpet, 
I dare not yet live one : Let those famed matrons, 
That are canonized worthy of our sex, 
Transcend me in their sanctity of life, 
I yet will equal them in dying nobly, 
Ambitious of no honour after lite, 
But that, when I am dead you will forgive me. 

Char. How pity steals upon me ! should I hear 

her [Knocks within. 

But ten words more, I were feat. — One knocks, 

go in. [Ex* BeawnaL 

That to be merciful should be a sm ! 

Enter Rochefout. 

O, sir, most welcome ! Let me take your cloak ; 
I must not be denied. Here are your robes ; 
As you love justice, once more put them on. 
There is a cause to be determined of, 
That does require such an integrity 
As you have ever used. I'll put you to 
The trial of your constancy and goodness ; 
And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed 
In other men's affairs, prove not a mole 
In what concerns yourself. Take you your seat ; 
I will before you presently. [frit. 

JtacA. Angels guard me ! 

G 



98 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massingbr* 



To what strange tragedy does this destruction 
Serve for a prologue ? 

Enter Charalois with Novall's body, Beau- 
melle and Beaumont. 

Char. So, set it down before 
The judgment seat, and stand you at the bar : 
For me, I am the accuser. 

Roch. Novall slain ? 
And Beaumelle, my daughter, in the place 
Of one to be arraigned ! 

Char. O, are you touched ? 
I find that I must take another course. 

[He hoodwinks Rochfort. 
Fear nothing ; I will only blind your eyes, 
For justice should do so, when 'tis to meet 
An object, that may sway her equal doom 
From what it should be aimed at. Good my 

lord! 
A day of hearing. 

Roch. It is granted, speak — You shall have 
justice. 

Char. I then here accuse, 
Most equal judge, the prisoner, your fair daughter, 
For whom I owed so much to you : your daughter, 
So worthy in her own parts, and that worth 
Set forth by yours, to whose so rare perfections, 
Truth witness with me, in the place of service, 
I almost paid idolatrous sacrifice, 
To be a false adultress. 

Roch. With whom ? 

Char. With this Novall, here dead. 

Roch. Be well advised, 
And, ere you say adultress again, 
Her fame depending on it, be most sure 
That she is one. 

Char. I took them in the act 
I know no proof beyond it. 

Roch. O my heart ! 

Char. A judge should feel no passions. 

Roch. Yet, remember 
He is a man, and cannot put off nature. 
What answer makes the prisoner ! 

Beaumei. I confess 
The fact I am charged with, and yield myself 
Most miserably guilty. 

Roch. Heaven tate mercy 
Upon your soul, then ! It must leave your 

body. 

Now free mine eyes : I dare unmoved look on her, 
And fortify my sentence with strong reasons. 
Since that the politic law provides the servants, 
To whose care we commit our goods, shall die, 
If they abuse our trust ; what can you look for, 
To whose charge this most hopeful lord gave up 
All he received from his brave ancestors, 
Or he could leave to his posterity ? 
His honour : wicked woman ! in whose safety 
All his life's joys and comforts were locked up, 
Which thy lust, a thief, hath' now stolen from 

him ; 
And therefor e  

Ghar, Stay, just judge. — May not what's lest 



By her one fault (for I am charitable, 

And charge her not with many) be forgotten 

In her fair life hereafter ? 

Roch. Never, sir ! 
The wrong that's done to the chaste married 

bed, 
Repentant tears can never expiate ; 
And be assured, to pardon such a sin, 
Is an offence as great as to commit it. 
Char. I may not then forgive her ? 
Roch. Nor she hope it : 
Nor can she wish to live. No sun shall rise, 
But ere it set shall shew her ugly lust 
In a new shape, and every one more horrid : 
Nay, even those prayers, which with such humble 

fervour 
She seems to send up yonder, are beat back ; 
And all suits which her penitence can proffer, 
As soon as made, are with contempt thrown off 
From all the courts of mercy. 

Char. Let her die, then. [He kills her. 

Better prepared I am sure I could not take her, 
Nor she accuse her father as a judge, 
Partial against her. 

Beaumei. I approve his sentence, 
And kiss the executioner : My lust 
Is now run from me in that blood, in which 
It was begot and nourished. [Dies. 

Roch. Is she dead, then ? 
Char. Yes, Sir, this is her heart-blood, is if 
not? 
I think it be. 

Roch. And you have killed her ? 
Char. True, and did it by your doom. 
Roch. But I pronounced it 
As a judge only, and a friend to justice, 
And, zealous in defence of your wronged honour, 
Broke all the ties of nature ; and cast off 
The love and soft affection of a father. 
I, in your cause, put on a scarlet robe 
Of red dyed cruelty ; but, in return, 
You have advanced for me no flag of mercy. 
I looked on you as a wronged husband ; but 
You closed your eyes against me as a father. 

Beaumelle ! my daughter ! 
Char. This is madness. 

Roch. Keep from me. — Could not one goocf 
thought rise up, 
To tell you that she was my age's comfort^ 
Begot by a weak man, and born a woman, 
.And could not, therefore, but partake of frailty? 
Or wherefore did not thankfulness step forth. 
To urge my many merits, which I may 
Object unto you, since you prove ungrateful ; 
Flinty-hearted Charalois ! 

Char. Nature does prevail above your virtoe. 

Roch. No ; it gives me eyes, 
To pierce the heart of your design against roe. 

1 find it now ; it was my estate was aimed at, 
A nobler match was sought for, and the hours 
1 lived, grew tedious to you : my compassion 
Towards you hath rendered me most miserably. 
And foolish charity undone myself. 



FlKLD.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



99 



But there is a heaven above, from whose just 

wreak 
No mists of policy, can hide offenders. 

Enttr Novall sen. with Officers. 

Nov. sen. Force ope the doors. — O monster ! 
cannibal! 
Lay bold on him — My son ! my son ! — O Roch- 

fort! 
Twas yon ga?e liberty to this bloodv wolf 
To worry all our comforts. — But this is 



No time to quarrel ; now give your assistance 
For the revenge. 

Roch. Call it a fitter name. 
— Justice for innocent blood. 

Char. Though all conspire 
Against that life which I am weary of, 
A little longer yet 111 strive to keep it, 
To shew, in spite of malice and their laws, 
His plea must speed, that hath an honest cause. 

[Exeunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. 



Enter Liladam, Tailor, and Officers. 

likd. Why, it is both most unconscionable 
and untimely, 
To arrest a gallant for his clothes, before 
lie has wom them out. Besides, you said you 

asked 
Mj name in my lord's bond but for form only, 
And now you'll lay me up for it. Do not think 
The taking measure of a customer 
By a brace of varlets, though I rather wait 
Never so patiently, will prove a fashion 
Which any courtier or Inns-of-court-man 
Would follow willingly. 

Tail. There I believe you. 
Bat, sir ! I must have present monies, or 

Aaurance, to secure me when I shall » 

Or I will see to your coming forth. 

IMtuL Plague on it ! 
Yon have provided for my entrance in : 
That coming forth you talk of, concerns me. 
What shall I do ? You have done me a disgrace 
In the arrest, but more in giving cause 
To all the street, to think I cannot stand 
Without these two supporters for my arms. 
Pray you, let them loose me : For their satisfac- 
tion 
I will not run away. 

Toil. For theirs you will not ; 
Bat for your own you would. Look to him, fel- 
lows! 
Mod. Why do you call them fellows ? Do not 
wrong 
Your reputation, as you are merely 
A tailor, faithful, apt to believe in gallants. 
You are a companion at a ten crown supper 
For doth of bodkin, and may with one lark 
Eat op three manchets, and no man observe you. 
Or call your trade in question for it But, when 
You study your debt-book, and hold correspon- 
dence 
With officers of the hanger, and leave swords- 



UKU, 

The learned conclude, the tailor and Serjeant, 

In the expression of a knave or thief, 

To be synonymous. Look, therefore, to it ! 



And let us part in peace. I would be loth 
You should undo yourself. 

Enter Old Nov all and Pontalier. 

Tail. To let you go 
Were the next way. But, see ! here is your old 

lord; 
Let him but give his word I shall be paid, 
And you are free. 

Li/ad. 'Slid ! Til put him to it; 
I can be but denied : or — what say you ? 
His lordship owing me three times your debt, 
If you 'arrest him at my suit, and let me 
Go run before, to see the action entered, 
Twould be a witty jest. 

Tail. I must have earnest. — 
I cannot pay my debts so. 

Pont. Can your lordship 
Imagine, while I live, and wear a sword, 
Your son's death shall be unreversed ? 

Nov. sen. I know not 
One reason why you should not do like others : 
I am sure, of all the herd that fed upon him, 
I cannot see in any, now he is gone, 
In pity or in thankfulness, one true sign 
Of sorrow for him. 

Pont. All his bounties yet 
Fell not in such unthankful ground : Tis true, 
He had weaknesses, but such as few are free 

from. 
And, though none soothed them less than I, for 

now, 
To say that I foresaw the dangers that 
Would rise from cherishing them, were but un- 
timely, 
I yet could wish the justice, that you seek for 
In the revenge, had been trusted to mc, 
And not the uncertain issue of the laws : 
It has robbed me of a noble testimony 
Of what I durst do for him. — But, however, 
My forfeit life, redeemed by him, though dead, 
Shall do him service. 

Nov. sen. As far as my grief 
Will give me leave, I thank you. 

Lilad. O, my lord ! 
Oh, my good lord ! deliver me from these fu-* 
ries. 



100 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[MassinomI 



Pant. Arrested ? Tb» k one of them, whose 
base . 
And abject flattery helped to dig his grave : 
He is not worth your pity, nor my anger.— 
Go to the basket, and repent 

Nov. sen. Away !— I only know now to hale 
thee deadly : 
I will do nothing for thee. 

Liiad. Nor you, captain f 

Pont. No: to your trade again; put off this 
case ! 
It may be, the discovering what you were, 
When your unfortunate master took you up, 
May move compassion in your creditor. 
Confess the truth. 

[Exit. Novall sen. and Pontalier. 

Lilad. And, now I think on it better, 
I will. Brother, your hand ; your hand, sweet 

brother. 
I am of your sect, and my gallantry but a dream, 
Out of which these two fearful apparitions, 
Against my will, have waked me. This rich sword 
Grew suddenly oat of a tailor's bodkin; 
These hangers from my vails and fees in hell ; 
And where, as now this beaver fits, full often 
A thrifty cap, composed of broad-cloth lists, 
Neav*'km onto the cashionr where I sat 
Cross-legged, and yet ungartered, hath been seen; 
Our breakfasts, famous for the buttered loaves, 
I have with joy been oft acquainted with; 
And therefore use a conscience, though it be 
Forbidden in our hall towards other men, 
To me that, as I have been, will again 
Be of the brotherhood. 

Officer. I know him now : 
He was a 'prentice to Le Rose at Orfeanee. 

Liiad. And from thence brought by my yoaag 
lord, now dead, 
Unto Dijon ; and with him, tiU this hour, 
Have been received here far a complete mon- 
sieur. 
Nor wonder at it : for, but tythe our gallants, 
Even those of the first rank, and you will arid, 
In every tea, one, peraeVentnre two, 
That smell rank of the dancing-school or fiddle, 
The pantofle or pressiae>*o» -.—But hereafter 
We'll talk of this. I will surrender up 
My suits again; there cannot be much Ion* 
T>s but the turning of the lace, with one 
Addition more you know of, and what wants 
I will work out. 

Tail Then here our quarrel ends : 
The gallant is torned tailor, and all friend* 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 

Enter Romont and Beaumont. 

Rom. You have them ready. 
Beaum. Yes ; and they will speak 
Their knowledge in this cause, when thou tkink'st 
fit 



To have them called upon. 

Rom. Tis well ; and something 
I can add to their evidence, to prows 
This brave revenge, which they would have called 

murder, 
A nobfejnstice. 

Beaum. In this you express 
(The breach, by my lord's want of yon, now made 

up) 
A faithful friend. 

Rom. That friendship's raised on sano* 
Which every sudden gust of discontent, 
Or flowing of our passions, can change, 
As if it ne'er had been : — But do you know 
Who are to sit on him ? 

Beaum. Monsieur Du Croy, 
Assisted by Charmi. 

Rom. Tne advocate, 
That pleaded for the marshal's funeral, 
And was checked for it by NovaJl? 

Beaum. The same. 

Rom. How fortunes that? 

Beaum. Why, sir, my lord Novall, 
Being the accuser, cannot be the judge ; 
Nor would grieved Kochfort, but lord CharaAoia 
(However he might wrong him by his power) 
Should have an equal hearing. 

Rom. By ray hopes 
Of CharaknVs acoaittal, I lament 
That reverend old man's fortune. 

Beaum. Had you seen him, 
As to my grief I have, now p romise patience, 
And ere it was believed, though spake by mm, 
That never breaks his word, enraged agahs 
So far as to make war upon those hairs, 
Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume 
To touch, bat with a soperstrtkm* fear, 
As something sacred >— and then curse ban danajb* 

ter; 
But with more frequent violence mmseif, 
As if he had been guilty of her faok, 
By being incredulous of your report, 
You would not only judge him worthy pity, 
But suffer with him.— But here comes the priso- 



ner; 



Enter Charalois, with officers. 

I dare not stay to do my duty to him ; 
Yet, rest assured, all possible means in 
To do him service, keeps you oj sn umiy^ 

Rom. It is not donated. [Exit 

Chmr. Why, yet, as I came hither, 
The people, apt to mock calamity, 
And tread on the oppressed, made no horns at 



Though they are too fsjsniihw 1 deserve 

And, knowing too what blood my sward hath 

ornak, 
In wreak of that disgrace, they yet forbear 
Tor shake their heads, or ter revile me for 
A murderer ; they rather all pot oa 
(As for great losses the old ~ 

3 



Fun.} 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



101 



A general race of sorrow, waited on 

Br a sad nwramr, breaking through their silence, 

And no rye but was readier with a tear 

To mimm 'twas shed for me, than I could 

Discern a fete made op with acorn against me. 

Wfyshosld I, then, though for anosaal wrongs 

I chose eausual means to right those wrongs, 

Condemn myself, as over partial 

In my own caone?**^Roinont ! 
lav. Beat friend, well net ! 

if mv heart'! lore to yon, and join to that 
y tnankfolneas that still lives to the dead, 
I look anon tea now wkh more true joy, 
Thai wan I ssw you married. 

Ciar . Yea bare reason 
To gtf e yon warrant for it. My fatting off 
Tram sash a friendship, with the scorn that an- 
swered 
Your too prophetic counsel, may well more you 
To mink yoor meeting me, going to my death, 
A fit encounter for that hate, which justly 
I bare deserved from yon. 
AW Shall I still, then, 
Speak troth, and be ill understood ? 

Char. You are not. 
Vm condons I hare wronged yon, and allow me 
Only a moral man, to look on yon, 
Whom Joonahry I have abused and injured, 
Mast of necessty be more terrible to me, 
Than any death the judges can pronounce 
From the tribunal which I am to plead at* 
Rom. Fansson transports yon. 
Char. For what I have done 
To my false lady, or NovaU, I cam 
Gire seaav apamrcnt cause ; out, touching you, 
In mv defence, child-like, I can- say nofJnas, 
But I am sorry fork; a poor satisfaction ! 
and yet, nuataae me not; for it is more 
Than I will speak, to have my pardon signed 
For all I stand accused ofc 
Ban. Yon) mock weaken 
The strength of your good cause, should you but 



A nam for doing weH could entertain 

A pardony were it offered. You have given 

To bond new s te w no ted justice, wings and eyes, 

To see and overtake impieties, 

Which from si cold proceeding had received 

Indidgence or protection. 

Caor. Think you so ? 

Bom. Upon my sold, not should the blood you 
cnanenaie 
And took to cure your honour, breed more 

scruple 
In your soft conscience, than if yeur sword 
Mad keen steadied in a rygress or she bear, 
That in their bowels would have made yonr tomb. 
To injure ia w ocen c e is toore than murder : 
Bat when nafenuan lasts transform na, then 
As beasts we are te> suffer, not like men, 
To be lamented. Nor did Charadom ever 
Per/orai sat act so wonky the applause 



Of a fail theatre 4 of perfect men* 
As he hath done in thin: The glory got 
By overthrowing outward enemies, • 

Since strength and fortune are main sharers in i^ 
We cannot, but by pieces, call oar own : 
But, when we conquer our intestine foes, 
Our passions* bred within us, and of those 
The most rebellions tyrant, powerful love, 
Our reason suffering us to like no longer 
Than the fair object, being good, deserves it, 
That's a true victory ; which, were great men 
Ambitious to atchieve by your example, 
Setting no price upon the Wench of faith, 
But loss of life, 'twould fright adultery 
Out of their families ; and make lost appear 
As loathsome to us in the first consent, 
As when 'tis waited on by punishment. 

Char. Yoa have confirmed me. Who would 
love a woman 
That might enjoy, in such a man, a friend ? 
You've made me know the justice of my cause. 
And marked me out the way how to defend it 

Rom. Continue to that resolution constant, 
And you shall, in contempt of their worst malice, 
Come eff with honour.— Here they come. 

Char. I am ready. 

SCENE in. 

Enter Du Croy, Charmi, Roc h fort, Novall 
ten. Pontalier, and Beaumont. 

Nov. sen. See, equal judges, with what confi- 
dence 
The cruel murderer stands, as if he would 
Out-face the court and justice ! 

Bach. Bat look on him, 
And yon shell find (for stHl methinks I do, 
Though gnik hath dyed him black) soffie4hhsg good 

in him, 
That may perhaps work wkk a wiser man, 
Than I have been, again to set him free, 
And give hira aU he has. 

Charm. This is not weH. 
I would you had lived so, mv lord ! that I, 
Might ratfier have continued your poor servant; 
Than sit here as yoor judge. 

Du Croy. I am sorry for you. 

Bach. In no act of my fife I have deserved 
This injury from the court, that any here 
Should thus uncivilly usurp on what 
Is proper to me only. 

Du Croy. What distnsto 
Receives nry lord? 

Roch. Yon say yon see sorry far ha t 
A grief in which I must net have a partnef : 
'Tin I alone ant sorry, that when I raised 
The naildfng ef nry life, for seventy yearn, 
Upon so sure 9 ground, that ail the vices. 
Practised to rain man, though brought a%awfet me, 
Could nover ErtderTwme, ami no way left 
T» send these gray hairs to the grave with sor- 
row, 



102 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massinger* 



Virtue, that was my patroness, betrayed me ; 

For, entering, nay, possessing, this young man, 

It lent him such a powerful majesty, 

To grace whatever he undertook, that freely 

I gave myself up with my liberty, 

To be at his disposing : Had his person, 

Lovely I must confess, or far-famed valour, 

Or any other seeming good, that yet 

Holds a near neighbourhood with illy wrought on 



me, 



I might have borne it better : But, when goodness 

And piety itself, in her best figure, 

Were bribed to my destruction, can you blame 



me. 



Though I forget to suffer like a man, 
Or rather act a woman ? 

Beaum. Good my lord ! 

Nov. sen. You lander our proceeding. 

Charmi. And forget 
The part of an accuser. 

Beaum. Tray you, remember 
To use the temper, which to me you promised. 

Roch. Angels themselves must break, Beau- 
mont, that promise, 
Beyond their strength and patience of angels. 
But I have clone : — My good lord ! pardon me,. 
A weak old man ; and pray add to that 
A miserable father ; yet be careful 
That your compassion of my age, nor his, 
Move you to anv thing, that may mis-become 
The place on wnich you sit. 

Charmi* Read the indictment 

Char. It shall be needless ; I myself, my 
lords, 
Will be my own accuser, and confess 
All they can charge me with : nor will I spare 
To aggravate that guilt with circumstance, 
They seek to load me with : Only I pray, 
That, as for them you will vouchsafe me hearing, 
I may not be denied it for myself, 
When I shall urge by what unanswerable reasons 
I was compelled to what I did, which yet, 
Till you have taught me better, I repent not. 

Roch. The motion's honest. 

Charmi. And 'tis freely granted. , 

Char. Then I confess, my lords, that I stood 
bound, 
When, with my friends, even hope itself, had left 

me, 
To this man's charity for my liberty ; 
Nor did his bounty end there, but began ; 
For, after my enlargement, cherishing 
The good he did, he made me master of 
His only daughter and his whole estate : 
Great ties of thankfulness, I must acknowledge; 
Could any one, fee'd by you, press, this further ? 
But yet consider, my most honoured lords ! 
If to receive a favour, make a servant, 
And benefits are bonds to tie the taker 
To the imperious will of him that gives, 
There's none but slaves will receive courtesies, 
Since they must fetter us to our dishonours. 



Can it be called magnificence in a prince, 
To pour down riches, with a liberal hand, 
Upon a poor man's wants, if that must bind him 
To play the soothing parasite to his vices? 
Or any man, because lie saved my hand, 
Presume my head and heart are at his service ? 
Or, did I stand engaged to buy my freedom 
(When my captivity was honourable) 
By making myself here, and fame hereafter, 
Bondslaves to men's scorn and calumnious tongues ? 
Had his fair daughter's mind been like her fea- 
tures, 
Or, for some little blemish, I had sought 
For my content elsewhere, wasting on others 
My body and her dowry ; my forehead then 
Deserved the brand of base ingratitude : 
But if obsequious usage, and fair warning, 
To keep her worth my love, could not preserve 

her 
From being a whore, and yet no cunning one, 
So to offend, and yet the fault kept from me ; 
What should I do? Let any free-born spirit 
Determine truly, if that thankfulness, 
Choice form, with the whole world given for a 

dowry, 
Could strengthen so an honest man with patience, 
As with a willing neck to undergo 
The insupportable yoke of slave or wittol ! 

Chartni. What proof have you she did play 
false, besides 
Your oath? 

Char. Her own confession to her rather. 
I ask him for a witness. 

Roch. 'Tis most true. 
I would not willingly blend my last words 
With an untruth. 

Char. And then to clear myself, 
That his great wealth was not the mark I shot at* 
But that I held it, when fair BeaumeUe 
Fell from her virtue, like the fatal gold 
Which Brennus took from Delphos, whose pos- 
session 
Brought with it ruin to himself and army, 
Here's one in court, Beaumont, by whom Lsent 
All grants and writings back which made it mine, 
Before his daughter died by his own sentence, 
As freely as unasked he gave it to me. 

Beaum. They arc here to be seen. 

Charmi. Open the casket. 
Peruse that deed of gift. 

Ram. Half of the danger 
Already is discharged : The other part 
As bravely, and you are not only free, 
But crowned with praise for ever. 

Du Cray. Tis apparent. 

Charmi. Your estate, my lord, again is yours. 

Roch. Not mine ; 
I am not of the world : If it can prosper, 
(And yet, being justly got, I'll not examine 
Why it should be so fatal) do you bestow it 
On pious uses : I'll go seek a grave. 
And yet, for proof, I die in peace, your pardo* 



Field.] 



BRITISH DRAMA; 



103 



I ask; and, as you grant it me,' may Heaven, 
Your conscience, and these judges, free you from 
Wast you are charged with ! So farewell for ever. 

[Exit Rochfort. 
Nisv. sen. Ill be mine own guide. Passion, nor 
example, 
Shall be my leaders; I have lost a son, 
A sod, grave judges ! I require his blood 
From his accursed homicide. 
Charmi What reply you, 
In your defence, for tnis ? 

Char. I but attended 
Your lordship's pleasure. For the fact, as of 
The former, I confess it ; but with what 
Base wrongs I was unwillingly drawn to it, 
To my few words there are some other proofs 
To witness this for truth. When I was married 
(For there I must begin) the slain Novall 
Was to my wife, in way of our French courtship, 
Almost devoted servant; but yet aimed at 
Nothing but nieare to quench his wanton heat, 
His heart being never warmed by lawful fires, 
As mine was, lords ; and though, on these pre- 
sumptions, 
Joined to the hate between his house and mine, 
I might, with opportunity and ease, 
Hare found a way for my revenge, I did not ; 
Bat still he had the freedom as before, 
When all was mine ; and, told that he abused it 
With some unseemly licence, by my friend, 
My approved friend, Roinont, I gave no credit 
To the reporter, but reproved him for it, 
As oae unconrtly and malicious to him. 
What could I more, my lords ? Yet, after this, 
He did continue in his first pursuit, 
Hotter than ever, and at length obtained it ; 
Bat, how it came to my most certain knowledge, 
For the dignity of the court, and my own honour, 
I dare not sav. 

Nov. sen. If all may be believed 
A passionate prisoner speaks, who is so foolish, 
That durst be wicked, that will appear guilty ? 
No, my grave lords : In his impunity 
fiat give example unto jealous men 
To cat the throats they hate, and they will never 
Want matter or pretence for their bad ends. 
Charmi You must find other proofs to 
strengthen these, 
Bat mere presumptions. 

Du Cray. Or we shall hardly 
Allow your innocence. 

Char. All your attempts 
Shall fail on me, like brittle shafts on armour, 
That break themselves; or like waves against a 

rock. 
That leave no sign of their ridiculous fury 
But foam and splinters ; mv innocence like these 
Shall stand • triumphant, and your malice serve 
But for a trumpet to proclaim my conquest: 
Nor shall you, though you do the worst fate can, 
Howe er condemn, affright an honest man, 
Rom. May it please the court, I may be heard ? 



Nov. sen. Yon came not 
To rail again ? But do — You shall not find 
Another liochfort. 

Rom. In Novall I cannot. 
But I come furnished with what will stop 
The mouth of his conspiracy against the life 
Of innocent Charalois. Do you know this cha- 
racter? 

Nov. sen. Yes, 'tis my son's. 

Rom. May it please your lordships, read it, 
And you shall find there, with what vehemency 
He did solicit Bcaumelle ; how he had got 
A promise from her to enjoy his wishes ; 
How after he abjured her company, 
And yet — (but that 'tis fit I spare the dead) 
Like a damned villain, as soon as recorded, 
He brake that oath : To make this manifest, 
Produce his bawds and tier's. 

Enter AymeR, Florimel, and Bellapert. 

Charmi. Have they took their oaths ? 

Rom. They have, and, rather than endure the 
rack, 
Confess the time, the meeting, nay the act ; 
What would you more ? Only this matron made 
A free discovery to a good end ; 
And therefore I sue to the court, she may not 
Be placed in the black list of the delinquents. 

Pont. I see by this, Novall's revenge needs me; 
And I shall do. 

Charmi Tis evident 

Nov. sen. That I 
Till now was never wretched : Here's no place 
To curse him or my stars. [Exit Novall sen. 

Charmi. Lord Charalois ! 
The injuries, you have sustained, appear 
So worthy of the mercy of the court. 
That, notwithstanding you have gone beyond 
The letter of the law, they yet acquit you. 

Pont. But, in Novall, I do condemn him — thus. 

[Stabs him. 

Char. I am slain ! 

Rom. Can I look on ? Oh, murderous wretch ! 
Thy challenge now I answer. So, die with him ! 

[Stabs Pontalier. 

Charmi. A guard ! disarm him ! 

Rom. I yield up mv sword 
Unforced — Oh, Charalois ! 

Char. For shame, Romont ! 
Mourn not for him that dies as he hath lived ; 
Still constant and unmoved : What's fallen upon 

me, 
Is by Heaven's will ; because I made myself 
A judge in my own cause without their warrant: 
But he, that lets me know thus much in death, 
With all good men — forgive me* [Dies* 

Pont* I receive 
The vengeance, which my love, not built on vir- 
tue, 
Has made me worthy of. [Dies* 

Charmi. We're taught 
By this sad precedent, how just soever 



104 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Massingei4*. 



Our reasons are to remedy our wrongs, 
We're jtt to kere them to their will and power, 
That to that purpose have authority. 
For you, Romont, although is your excuse 
You may plead Whet jm did wee » revenge 



Of the dishonour dene unto Ike court, 

Yet, since faun us you bad not warrant for it, 

We banish yon the states Far these, they thttt, 

As they are found guilty or innocent, 

Or be set tee, er suifer puaisbment. [Exeunt. 



THE 



FALSE ONE 



BY 



BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



MEN. 

JrursCKA*, emperor of Rome. 
Prt>L0HT, king of Egypt. 
Achoreus, an honest counsellor, priest of hit. 
P&onxrs, a politician, minion to Ptolomy. 
Achillas, captain of the guard to Ptolomy. 
Sonnies, a revolted Roman villain. 
LaBKsus, a Raman soldier, and nuncio. 
Apollodorus, guardian to Cleopatra. 



Sceva, a free speaker, also captain to C&sar. 

Three lame soldier*. 

Guard. 

Servants. 

WOMEN. 

Cleopatra, queen of Egypt. Casar 9 s mistress. 
Arbinoe, Cleopatra*s sister. 
Eros, Cleopatra s waiting woman. 



Scene, — Egypt. 



ACf I. 



SCENE I. 
Enter Achillas and AcHOREtJS/ 



Achoreus. I love the king, nor do dispute Ids 

For that » not confined, nor to be censured 
fihr me, that am his subject ; yet allow me 
The liberty of a man, that still would be 
A friend to justice, to demand the motives, 
That did induce young Ptolomy, or Photinus, 
(To whose directions he gives up himself, 
And I hope wisely) to commit his sister, 

The princess Cleopatra -If I said 

The queen, Achillas, it were, I hope, no treason, 
She being by her father's testament 
(Whose memory I bow to) left co-heir 
la all, he stood possessed of. 
- AchiL Tis confessed, 

My good Achoreus, that, in these eastern king- 
doms, 
VouL 



Women are not exempted from the sceptre, 
But claim a privilege equal to the male ; 
But how much such divisions have taken from 
The majesty of Egypt, and what factions 
Have sprung from those partitions, to the ruin 
Of the poor subject, doubtful which to follow, 
We have too many and too sad examples : 
Therefore the wise Photinus, to prevent 
The murders, and the massacres, that attend 
On disunited government, and to shew 
The king without a partner, in full splendour, 
Thought it convenient the fair Cleopatra 
(An attribute not frequent in this climate) 
Should be committed to safe custody, 
In which she is attended like her birth, 
Until her beauty, or her royal dower, 
Hath found her" out a husband. 

Achor. How this may 
Stand with the rules of policy, I know not ; 
Most sure I am, it holds no correspondence 



10(i 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont fc 



With the rites of Egypt, or the laws of nature* 
But, grant that Cleopatra can sit down 
With this disgrace, though insupportable, 
Can you imagine, that Rome's glorious senate, 
To whose charge, by the will of the dead king, 
This government was delivered, or great Pompey, 
That is appointed Cleopatra's guardian, 
As well as Ptolomy's, will e'er approve 
Of this rash counsel, their consent not sought for, 
That should authorize it? 

AchiL The civil war, 
In which the Roman empire is embarked 
On a rough sea of danger, does exact 
Their whole care to preserve themselves, and 
1 give them 

No vacant time to think of what we do, 
Which hardly can concern them. 

Achor. What's your opinion 
Of the success ? I have heard, in multitudes 
Of soldiers, and all glorious pomp of war, 
Pompey is much superior. 

AchiL I could give you 
A catalogue of all the several nations 
From whence he drew lus powers ; but that were 

tedious. 
They have rich arms, are ten to one in number, 
Which makes them think the day already won ; 
And Pompey being master of the sea, 
Such plenty of all dclicates arc brought in, 
As if the place, on which they are entrenched, 
Were not a camp of soldiers, but Rome, 
In which Lucullus and Apicius joined 
To make a public feast They at Dirachium 
Fought with success ; but knew not to make use 

of ' 
Fortune's fair offer : So much, I have heard, 
Caesar himself confessed. 

Achor. Where are they now ? 

AchiL In Thessaly, near the Pharsalian plains ; 
Where Caesar, with a handful of his men, 
Hems in the greater number. His whole troops 
Exceed not twenty thousand, but old soldiers, 
Fleshed in the spoils of Germany and France, 
Inured to lus command, and only know 
To fight and overcome: And though that famine 
Reigns in his. camp, compelling them to taste 
Bread made of root?, forbifj tfre use of man/ 
(Which they, "wit]}, scorn; tjttew info pQmpey's 

camp, 
As in derision of his dedicates) 
Or corn not yet half rjpe, and th&t a tyuiquet; 
They still besiege him, being ambitious only 
To come to b,lpws, and let tjeir. sworaXdctermioa 
Who hajh th«. better cause. 

Enter Septimius. 

Achor. May victory. 
Attend on it, whcreV it is, 

AchiL Wc every hour 
Expect to' hear the issue. 

Sept. Sav.emy gpocj lordsj 
By Isu and Osiris, whom you worship, 



And the four hundred gods and goddesses, 
Adored in Rome, I am your honours* semat 

Achor. Truth needs, Septimius, no oajht 

AchiL You're cruel; 
If you deny him swearing, you take from him 
Three full parts of his language. 

Sept. Your honour's bitter. 
Confound me, where I love, I cannot say it, 
But I must swear it s Yet such is my ill fortune. 
Nor vaws nor protestations win belief; 
I think, (and I can find no other reason) 
Because I am a Roman. 

Achor. No, Septimius ; 
To he a Roman were an honour to you, 
Did not your manners and your life take from it, 
And cry aloud, that from Rome you bring nothing 
But Roman vices, which you would plant here, 
But no seed of her virtues. 

Sept. With your reverence, 
I am too old to learn. 

Achor. Any thing honest; 
That I believe without an oath. 

Sept. I fear 
Your lordship has slept iH to-night, and that 
Invites this sad discourse ; it wiU, make you old 
Before your time. Oh, these viyrtuous mora)*, 
And old religious priaciples, thai; tool, us ! 
I have brought you a new song will make joa 

laugh. 
Though you were at your pra$ecs, 

Achor. What is the subject ? 
Be free, Septimius. 

Sept. 'lis a catalogue 
Of all the gamesters of the court and city, 
Which lord lies with that lady, and what gallant 
Sports with that merchant's wife ; and does relate 
Who sells her honour for a diamond, 
Who for a tissue robe ; whose husband's jealous, 
And who so kind, that, to share with his wife, 
Will make the match himself: Harmless conceits, 
Though fools say they are dangerous. I sang it 
The last night, at my lord Photinus' table, 

Achor. How ? as a fiddler f 

Sept. No, sir, as a guest, 
A welcome guest too; and it was approved of 
By a dozen of his friends, though they were 

touched in it : 
For, look you, it is a kind- of merriment, 
When we have laia\ by foolish modesty, 
(As not a man of fashion, will 1 wear it) 
To talk what we have done, at least to heap it ; 
If merrily set down, it fires the bloody 
And heightens crest-fallen appetite. 

Achor. New, doctrine ! 

AchiL Was it of your own composing? 

Sept. No, T bought it 
Of a skulking scribbler for two Ptolomies ; 
But the hints were mine own : The wretch wa| 

fearful; 
But I have damned myself, should it he qoeiri 

' tioned, 
That I will own it* i 



1 



Flitchju.] 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



107 



Acker. Asd be punished for itf 
Tab heed, for yott may so Ions exercise 
Yonr scurrilous wit aaninst authority, 
Tie tiagbWs o9tiiiMH8| and make profane jests 
(Which to you, being an atheist} is nothing) 
Anuttt religion, that yosr great riuuntainers, 
Unless die/ would be thought copartners with 

yea, 
Will teste you to the law; and then, Septimius, 
Bemember there are whips. 

Sept. For whores, I grant you* 
When they are out of date ; 'till then they are 

safe too, 
Aad, for mine own defence, 111 only add this ; 
ffl be admitted for a wanton tale, 
To sane most private cabinets, when your priest- 
hood, 
ThosaV jsdea with the mysteries of your goddess. 
Shall nit without unnoted : So I leave you 
To mar pious thoughts. [&rif. 

AckiL Tis a strange impudence 
Ink fellow does put on, 

Ackor. The wonder great, 
He a mated of. 

AckiL \ ices, for him, 
Make 10 free way as virtues do for others, 
lathe time's fault; yet great ones still hare 

* graced, 
To make them sport, or rub them o'er with flat- 
tery, 
Observers of all kinds. 

Enter Photinus and StPtiMit-s. 

Acker. No more of him* 
He is not worth our thoughts; a fugitive 
From Pemaey's army, and now in a danger* 
"ha he snoald use his service. 

Ackil. See how he hangs 
0a great PtotanaV ear. 

Sept. Hell, and the furies. 
And all the plagues of darkness, light upon me, ' 
Yo*«re ary god on earth ! and let me nave 
Your favour here, fall what can fall hereafter S 

Pko. Thou art believed ; dost thou want mo- 
nay? 

lept. No, Sir. 

Pko. Or hast thou any suit ? These ever follow 
Thy vehement protestations. 

Sept. You mnoh wrong me ; 
Howcan I want, when your beams shine upon me, 
Unless employment to express my zeal 
To do your greatness service. Do but think 
A deed, so dark the sua would blosh to look on, 
For which mankind would curse me, and arm ail 
The po wers above, aad those below, against me ; 
Coniaand ma, 1 will on. 

Pas. When I have use, 
III pat yea to the test 

Sept. Slav it be speedy, 
And something worth my danger. You are cold, 
An* know not your own p owe r s : this brow was 
fasnanaj 



To wear a kingly wreath, and your grave judge- 
ment 
Given to dispose of nionarchies^ not to govern 
A child's affairs. The people's eye is upon you, 
The soldier courts you : Will yon wear a gar- 
ment 
Of ^ordkl loyalty, when it is out of fashion ? 

Pho* When rompey was thy general, Septi- 
mius, 
Thou saidst as much to him. 

Sept. All my love to him, 
To Caesar, Rome, and the whole world, is lost 
In the ocean of your bounties : I've no friend, 
Project^ design, or country, but your favour, 
Which I'll preserve at any rate. 

Pho. No more ? 
When I call on you, fall not off: Perhaps, 
Sooner than you expect, I may employ you ; 
So, leave me for a while. 

Sept. Ever your creature ! [Exit. 

Pho. Good day, Achoreus. My best friend, 
Achillas, 
Hath fame delivered yet no certain rumour 
Of the great Reman action? 

Achil. That we are 
To enquire and learn of you, sir, whose grave care 
For Egypt's happiness, and great Ptolomy's good, 
Hath eyes and ears in all parts. 

Enter Ptolomy, Labi em us, and guard. 

Pho. I'll not boast 
What my intelligence costs me ; but ere long 
You shall know more. The king ! with hiin a Ro- 
man. 

Achor. The scarlet livery of unfortunate war 
Dyed deeply on his face. 

Achil. Tis Labienus, 
Caesar's lieutenant in the wars of Gaul, 
And fortunate in oil his undertakings : 
But, since these civil jars, he turned to Pompey, 
And, though he followed the better cause, 
Not with the like success. 

Pho. Such as are wise 
Leave falling buildings, fly to those that rise. 
But more of that hereafter. 

Lab. tn a word, sir, 
These gaping wounds, not taken as a slave, 
Speak Pompey's loss. To tell you of the battle, 
How many thousand several bloody shapes 
Death wore that day in triumph ; now we bore 
The shock of Csssars charge \ or with what fury 
His soldiers came on, as if they had been 
So many Caesars, and, like him, ambitious 
To tread upon the liberty of Rome; 
How fathers killed their sous, or sons their fa- 
thers ; 
Or how the Roman pikes on each side 
Drew Roman blood, which spent, the prince of 

weapons 
(The sword) succeeded, which, in civil wars, 
Appoints the tent, on which winged victory 
Shall make a certain stand : then, how the plains 



108 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Bbaumont 4. 



Flowed o'er with blood, and what a cloud of vul- 
tures, 
And other birds of prey, hung o'er both armies, 
Attending, when their ready servitors, 
The soldiers, from whom the angry gods 
Had took all sense of reason and of pity, 
Would serve, in their own carcasses, for a feast ; 
How Caesar, with his javelin, forced them on, 
That made the least stop, when their angry hands 
Were lifted up against some known friend's face; 
Then, coming to the body of the anny, 
He shews the sacred senate, and forbids them 
To waste their force upon die common soldier, 
(Whom willingly, if e'er he did know pity, 

He would have spared)* 

Ptol. The reason, Labienus ? 
Lab. Full well he knows, that in their blood he 
was 
To pass to empire, and that dirough their bowels 
He must invade the laws of Rome, and give 
A period to the liberty of the world. 
Then fell the Lepidi, and the bold Corvini, 
The famed Torquati, Scipio's, and Marcelh, 
Names, next to Porapey's, most renowned on 

earth. 
The nobles, and the commons, lay together, 
And Pontic, Punic, and Assyrian blood, 
Made up one crimson lake:* Which Pompey see- 
ing, 
And that his, and the fate of Rome, had left him, 
Standing upon the rampier of his camp> 
Though scorning all that could fall on himself, 
He pities- them, whose fortunes are embarked 
Tn his unlucky quarrel ; cries aloud, too, 
That they should sound retreat, and save them- 
selves : 
That he desired not so much noble blood 
Should be lost in his service, or attend 
On his misfortunes : And then, taking horse, 
With some few of his friends, he came to Lesbos, 
And, with Cornelia, his wife, and sons, 
He has touched upon your shore. The king of 

Parthia, 
Famous in his defeature of the Crassi, 
Offered him his protection ; but Pompey, 
Relying on his benefits, and your faith, 
Hath chosen Egypt for his sanctuary, 
'fill he may recollect his scattered powers, 
And try a second day. Now, Ptolomy, 
Thougn he appear not like that glorious thine, 
That three times rode in triumph, and gave laws 
To conquered nations, and made crowns his gift, 
(As this of yours, your noble father took 
From his victorious hand, and you still wear it 
At his devotion) to do you more honour 
In his declined estate, as the straightest pine 
In a full grove of his yet-flourishing friends, 
He flies to you for succour, and expects 
The entertainment of your father's friend, 
And guardian to yourself. 

Ptol. To say I grieve his fortune, 
As much as if die crown I wear (his gift) 



Were ravished from me, is a holy truth, 

Our gods can witness for me : Yet, being young, 

And not a free disposer of myself, 

Let not a few hours, borrowed for advice, 

Beget suspicion of unthankfulness, 

Which, next to hell, I hate. Pray you retire; 

And take a litde rest; and let his wounds 

Be with that care attended, as they were 

Carved on my flesh. Good Labienus, think 

The little respite, I desire, shall be 

Wholly employed to find the readiest way 

To do great Pompey service. 

Lab. May the gods, 
As you intend, protect you ! [Exit. 

Ptol. Sit, sit all; 
It is my pleasure. Your advice, and freely. 

Acker. A short deliberation in this, 
May serve to give you counsel. To be honest, 
Religious, and thankful, in themselves 
Are fprcible motives, and can need no flourish 
Or gloss in the persuader ; your kept faith, 
Though Pompey never rise to the height be is 

fallen from, 
Caesar himself will love ; and my opinion 
Is, still committing it to graver censure, 
You pay the debt you owe him, with the hazard 
Of all you can call yours. 

Ptol. What is yours, Photinns? 

Pko. Achoreus, great Ptolomy, hath counselled* 
Like a religious and honest man. 
Worthy the honour that he justly holds 
In being priest to Isis. But, alas, 
What in a man, sequestered from the world, 
Or in a private person, is preferred, 
No. policy allows of in a king : 
To be or just, or thankful, makes kings guilty ; 
And faith, though praised, is punished, that sop* 

ports 
Such as good fate forsakes : Join with the gods, 
Observe the man they favour, leave the wretch- 
ed; 
The stars are not more distant from the earth, 
Than profit is from honesty ; all the power, 
Prerogative, and greatness of a prince 
Are lost, if he descend once but to steer 
His course, as what is right guides him : Let him 

leave 
The sceptre, diat strives only to be good, 
Since kingdoms are maintained by force and 
blood. 

Achor. Oh, wicked ! 

Ptol. Peace ! — Go on. 

Pho. Proud Pompey shews how much he scons 
your youth, 
In thinking, that you cannot keep your own 
From such as are o'ercome. If you are tired 
With being a king, let not a stranger take 
What nearer pledges challenge : Resign rather 
The government of Egypt, and of Nile, 
To Cleopatra, that has" title to diem ; 
At least, defend them from the Roman gripe. 
What was not Pompey's, while the war endured. 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



109 



The conqueror will not challenge. By all the 

world 
Forsaken and despised, your gentle guardian, 
His hopes and fortunes desperate, makes choice 

of 
What nation he shall fall with ; and, pursued 
Bj their pale ghosts, slain in this civil war, 
tie libs not Cssar only, hut die senate, 
Of which the greater part have cloyed the hun- 

Of sharp Pharsalian fowl ; he flies the nations, 
Tint he drew to his quarrel, whose estates 
An? sunk in his ; and, in no place received, 
Hath found out Egypt, by him yet not ruined. 
And Ptolorav, things considered, justly may 
Complain ofPompey : Wherefore should he stain 
Oar Egypt with the spots of civil war, 
Or male the peaceable, or quiet Nile, 
Doubted of Caesar ? Wherefore should he draw 
His Joss and overthrow upon our heads, 
Or chute this place to suffer in ? Already 
We hare offended Caesar, in our wishes, 
And no way left us to redeem his favour 
Bot by the head of Pompcy. 

Achor. Great Osiris, 
Defend thy Egypt from such cruelty, 
And barbarous ingratitude ! 

Pko. Holy trifles, 
And not to have place in designs of state. 
This sword, which fate commands me to unsheath, 
I would not draw on Pompey, if not vanquished; 
I grant, it rather should have passed through Ca> 
_. «ar, 

But we must follow where his fortune leads us : 
All provident princes measure their intents 
According to their power, and so dispose them. 
And tbink'st thou, Ptolomv, that thou canst prop 
His ruins, under whom sail Rome now sutlers, 
Or tempt the conqueror's force when it is con- 
firmed? 
Shall we, that in the battle sat as neuters, 
Serve him, that is overcome ? No, no, he is lost 
And though it is noble to a sinking friend 
To lend a helping hand, while there is hope 
He may recover, thy part not engaged : 
Though one most dear, when all his hopes are 

dead, 
To drown him, set thy foot upon his head. 
Acker. Most execrable counsel ! 
4chil To be followed ; 
lis for the kingdom's safety/ 

PtoL We give up 
Oar absolute power to thee : Dispose of it 
As reason shall direct thee. 

Pko. Good Achillas, 
Seek out Septimius : Do vou but soothe him ; 
He n already wrought. Leave the dispatch 
To me of Labicnus : Tis determined 
Already how you shall proceed. Nor fate 
Hull alter it, since now the dye is cast, 
But that thU hour to Pompcy is his last ! 

[Erettnt. 



SCENE II. 

Enter Apollodorus, Eros, and Arsinob. 

Apol Is the queen stirring, Eros ! 

Eros. Yes ; for in truth 
She touched no bod to-night 

ApoL I'm sorry for it, 
And wish it were in me, with any hazard, 
To give her ease. 

Art. Sir, she accepts your will, 
And does acknowledge she hath found you noble, 
So far, as if restraint of liberty 
Could give admission to a thought of mirth, 
She is your debtor for it. 

ApoL Did you tell her 
Of the sports I have prepared to entertain her f 
She was used to take delight, with her fair hand 
To angle in the Nile, where the glad fish, 
As if they knew who 'twas sought to deceive them, 
Contended to be taken : Other times, 
To strike the stag, who, wounded by her arrows, 
Forgot his tears in death, and, kneeling, thanks her 
To his last gasp ; then prouder of his fate, 
Than if, with garlands crowned, he had been 

chosen 
To fall a sacrifice before the altar 
Of the virgin huntress. The king, nor great Pha- 

tinus, 
Forbid her any pleasure ; and the circuit, 
In which she is confined, gladly affords 
Variety of pastimes, which I would 
Encreasc with my best service. 

Eros. Oh, but the thought 
That she, that Was born free, and to dispense 
Restraint or liberty to others, should be 
At the devotion of her brother, (whom 
She only knows her equal) makes this place, 
In which she lives, though stored with all delights, 
A loathsome dungeon to her. 

Apol. Yet, howe'er 
She shall interpret it, 111 not be wanting 
To do my best to serve her : IVe prepared 
Choice music near her cabinet, and composed 
Some few lines, set unto a solemn time, 
In the praise of imprisonment. Begin, boy. 

THE SONG. 

Look out, bright eyes, and bless the air : 
Even in shadows you are fair. 
Shut-up beauty is like fire, 
That breaks out clearer still and higher. 
Though your body be confined, 

And soft love a prisoner bound. 
Yet the beauty of your mind 

Neither check nor chdin hath found. 
Look out nobly then, and dare 
Even the fetters, that you wear. 

Enter Cleopatra. 

Clco. But that we are assured this tastes of 
duty 
And lore in you, my guardian, and desire 



110 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beauhont& 



In you, my sister, and the Wst, to please us, 
We should receive this as a saucy rudeness, 
Offered our private thoughts. But your intents 
Are to delight us : Alas, you wash an Ethiop ! 
Can Cleopatra, while she does remember 
Whose daughter she is, and whose sister (oh, 
I suffer in the name !) and that, in justice, 
There is no place in Egypt, where I stand, 
But that the tributary earth is proud 
To kiss the foot of her, that is ner queen ; 
Can she, I say, that is all this, e'er relish 
Of comfort or delight, while base Photinus, 
Bondman Achillas, and all other monsters, 
That reign o'er Ptolomy, make that a court. 
Where they reside ; and this, where I, a prison ? 
But there's a Rome, a senate, and a Cesar, 
Though the great Pompey lean to Ptolomy, 
May think of Cleopatra. 

ApoL Pompey, madam— 

Cleo. What of him? Speak! If ill, Apollodonis, 
It is my happiness ; and, for thy news. 
Receive a favour, kings have kneeled in vain for, 
And kiss my hand. 

Apol. He's lust. 

Cleo. Speak it again ! 

ApoL His army routed, he fled, and pursued 
By the altaonquering Carcar. 

Cleo. Whither bends he ? 

ApoL To Egypt 

Cleo. Ha ! In person ? 

ApoL Tis received 
For an undoubted truth. 

Cleo. I live again ; 
And if assurance of my love and beauty 
Deceive me not. I now shall find a judge 
To do me right ! But how to free myself, 



And get access ? The guards are strong upon ma; 
This door I must pass through. — Apouooorus, 
Thou often hast professed, to do me service* 
Thy life was not thine own* 

Apol. I am not altered ; 
And let your excellency propound a means, 
In which I may but give the least assistance, 
That may restore you to that you were bora to. 
Though it call on the anger of the king, 
Or, what's more deadly, all his minion 
Photinus can do to me, I, unmoved, 
Offer my throat to serve you; ever provided, 
It hear some probable show to be effected : 
To lose myself upon no ground were madness. 
Not loyal duty. 

Cleo. Stand off !— To thee alone, 
I will discover what I dare not trust 
My sister with. Cesar is amorous, 
And taken more with the title of a queen, 
Than feature or proportion ; he loved Eunoe, 
A moor, deformed too, I have heard, that brought 
No other object to inflame his blood, 
But that her husband was a king ; on both 
He did bestow rich presents : Shall I, then, 
That, with a princely birth, bring beauty with me, 
That know to prize myself at mine own rate, 
Despair his favour? Art thou mine ? 

ApoL I am. 

Cleo. I have found out a way shall bring at 
to him, 
Spite of Photinus' watches. If I prosper, 
As I am confident I shall, expect 
Things greater than thy wishes. — Though I pur- 
chase 
His grace with loss of my virginity, 
It skills not, if it bring home majesty. [Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. 



Enter Septimius, with a heady Achillas, and 

guard. 

Sept Tia here, 'tis done ! Behold, you fear- 
ful viewers, 
Shake, and behold the model of the world here, 
The pride, and strength ! Look, look again ; 'tis 

finished ' 
That, that whole armies, nay, whole nations, 
Many and mighty kings, have been struck Wind 

at, 
And fled before, winged with their fears and ter- 
rors; 
That steel war waited on, and fortune courted, 
That high-plumed honour built up for her own ; 
Behold that mightiness, behold that fierceness, 
Behold that child of war, with ail his glories, 
By this poor hand made breathless ! Here, my 

Achillas ; 
Egypt, and Caesar, owe me for this service, 
And all the conquered nations. 



AchiL Peace, Sep timiu s; 
Thy words sound more ungrateful than thy at* 

tions. 
Though sometimes safety seek an instrument 
Of thy unworthy nature, (thou loud boaster !) 
Think not she's bound to love him too that's bar- 
barous. 
Why did not I, if mis be meritoriooa. 
And binds the king unto me, and his boaatMS, 
Strike this rude stroke ? I'll teU thee, thou pot? 

Roman; 
It was a sacred head, I durst net heave at. 
Not heave a thought 
Sept. It was ? 
AchiL I'll tell thee truly, 
And, if thou ever yet heardst tell of honour, 
Til make thee blush : It wae thy general »; 
That man's, that fed thee once, that mWs, tht$ 

bred thee; 
The air, thou breathedst, was his, die fife, thtj 

warmed thee, 
From his care kindled ever; Nay, Fll shew thee^ 



l 



Fletchhl] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



ill 



Became HI make the* sansibte ot tht baseness, 
And why a noble man durst not touch at it, 
laere was no piece of earth, thou put'st thy foot 

Bat was his conquest, ami he gave thee motion ! 
He triumphed three thnea : Who durst touch his 

person? 
The very wafts of Rome bowed to his presence ; 
Dear to the gods he was; to them, that feared 

him, 
A fair and noble enemy. Didst thou hate him, 
And for thy love to Cesar sought bis ruin? 
Armed, in the red Pharsalian fields, Septimius, 
Where killing was in grace, and wounds were 

Where tanas were mar competitors for honour, 
TamsfeuMst hare come up to him, mere hare 

fought him, 
There, saved to sword. 

Sept. I killed him on commandment, 
If kings commands be fair, when you all fainted, 
When none of you durst loo k    



AckiL On deeds so barbarous. 
What hast tboa got? 

Sept. The kinrs love, and hie bounty, 
The honour of the service; which though you 

rail at, 
Or a thonsand carrions souls fling their foams on 



Will dignify the cause, and make me glorious; 
And I shall live 



A miserable villain. 
What reputation and reward belong to it, 
Taos, with the head, I seize on, and make mine : 
And be not impudent to ask me why, sirrah, 
Nor bold so stay ; read in mine eyes the reason! 
The shame ami obloquy I leave tnjae own ; 
Inherit those re wa rds; they are fitter for thee. 
Your oil's spent, and your "snuff stinks : Go out 

bsnery! 
Sept. The king will yet consider. [Exit, 

tutor Ptolomy, Acnoatus, and Paeriirus. 

AcHL Hm km comes. 
Jcasr. Yet, tf it be 



K mia mhumom stroke he yet uaetraeken, 
tf that adored Wad he not yet severed 
From the most noble body, weigh the miseries, 
The desolations, that this great ectipso works. 
Ton aoe yoamg, be provident ; fix not your empire 
Upon the tomb of him will shake all 'Egypt ; 
Whose warlike assent witt raiso ten mowsand 
spirits, 

f, in every hand a thondsr ; 
dactmg rVom their looks, and son- 



That easy women's eyes shall never empty. 
PA* Yon few* done wolf; ana) 'tis done. See 
Ac**!** 
And in his hand the head 

I** fits*; 



Methinks I feel the very earth shake under me 1 
I do remember him ; he was my guardian, 
Appointed by the senate to preserve me. 
What a full majesty sits in his face yet ! 

Pto. The king is troubled. Be not frighted, 
sir; 
Be not abused with fears : His death was necessary, 
If you consider, sir, most necessary, 
Not to be missed : And humbly thank great Isis> 
He came so opportunely to your hands. 
Pity mu9t now give place to rules of safety. 
Is not victorious Caesar new arrived, 
And entered Alexandria* with his friends, 
His navy riding by to wait his charges ? 
Did he not beat this Pompey, and pursued him f 
Was not this great man his great enemy ? 
This godlike virtuous man, as people held him ? 
But what fool dare be friend to flying virtue ? 
I hear their trumpets ; 'tis too late to stagger. 
Give me the head ; and be you confident 

Enter Cjesak, Ahtom v, Dolarella, and Scsvt. 

Hail, conqueror, and head of all the world, 
Now this head's off! 

Cesar. Ha ! 

Pho. Do not shun me, Cesar. 
From kingly Ptolomy I bring this present, 
The crown and sweat of thy Pharsalian labour, 
The goal and mark of high ambitious honour. 
Before, thy victory had no name, Cesar, 
Thy travel and thy loss of blood no recompcnoe ; 
Thou dream'dst of being worthy, and of war, 
And all thy furious conflicts were hut slumbers : 
Here they take life : here they inherit honour, 
Grow fixed, and shoot up everlasting triumphs. 
Take it, and look upon thy humble servant, 
With noble eyes look on the princely Ptolomy, 
That offers with this head, most mighty Canmr, 
What thou wouldst once have given for it, all 
Egypt 

Achil. Nor do not question it, most royal con* 
qveror, 
Nor dieesteem the benefit, that meets thee, 
Because 'tis easily got; it comes the safer : 
Yet, let me tell thee, most imperious Cassar, 
Though he opposed no strength of swords to win 



Nor laboured through no showers of darts and 

lances, 
Yet here he found a fort, that meed him strongly, 
An inward war : He was his grandsirVs guest, 
Friend to hie rather, and, when he was expelled 
And beaten from this kingdom by strong hand, 
And had none left him to restore his honour, 
No hope to find a friend in such a misery, 
Then- in stept Pompey, took Ins feeble fortune, 
Strengthened, and cherished it, and set k right 

again: 
This was a love to Cesar. 

See. Give me hate, gods ! 

Pha. This Caesar may account a little wicked; 
But yet remember, if akne awn hands, conqueror, 



112 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[B&AUMONT^ 



Had fallen upon him, what it had been then ; 

If thine own sword had touched his throat, what 
that way ! 

He was thy son-in-law ; there to be tainted 

Had been most terible ! Let the worst be render- 
ed, 

We have deserved for keeping thy hands innocent. 
Casar. Oh, Sceva, Sceva, see that head ! see, 
captains, 

The head of godlike Pompey ! 
See. He was basely ruined ; 

But let the gods be grieved, that suffered it, 

And be you Caesar. 

Casar. Oh, thou conqueror, 

Thou glory of the world once, now the pity, 

Thou awe ofnations, wherefore didst thou fall 
thus? 

What poor fate followed thee, and plucked thee 



on, 



To trust thy sacred life to an Egyptian ? 
The life and light of Rome, to a blind stranger, 
That honourable war ne'er taught a nobleness, 
Nor worthy circumstance shewed what a man 

was? 
That never heard thy name sung, but in ban- 
quets, 
And loose lascivious pleasures? to a boy, 
That had no faith to comprehend thy greatness, 
No study of thy life, to know thy goodness? 
And leave thy nation, nay, thy noble friend, 
Leave him distrusted, that in tears falls with thee, 
In soft relenting tears ? Hear me, great Pompey, 
If thy great spirit can hear, I must task thee ! 
Thou hast most unnobly robbed me of my victory, 
My love and mercy. 

Ant. Oh, how brave these tears shew ! 
How excellent is sorrow in an enemy ! 

DoL Glory appears not greater than this good- 



ness. 
Casar. Egyptians, dare ye think your highest 
pyramids. 
Built to out-dare the sun, as you suppose, 
Where your unworthy kings lie raked in ashes, 
Are monuments fit for him ? No, brood of Nilus, 
Nothing can cover his high fame, but heaven ; 
No pyramids set off his memories, 
But the eternal substance of his greatness, 
To which I leave him. Take the head away, 
And, with the body, give it noble burial : 
Your earth shall now be blessed to hold a Ro- 
man, 
Whose braveries all the world's earth cannot ba- 
lance. 
Sec. If thou be'st thus loving, I shall honour 
' thee : 
But great men may dissemble, it is held possible, 
And be. right glad of what they seem to weep for ; 
There arc such kind of philosophers. Now do I 

wonder 
I low he would look, if Pompey were alive again; 
How would he set his face. 
Casar. You look now, king, 

3 



And you, that have been agents in this glory, 
For our special favour ? 
PtoL We desire it. 

Casar. And, doubtless, you expect rewards? 
See. Let me give them : 
I'll give them such as nature never dreamed of; 
I'll beat him and his agents in a mortar, 
Into one man, and that one man I'll bake then. 
Casar* Peace ! I forgive you all ; that is re- 
cqmpence. 
You are young, and ignorant; that pleads your 

pardon, 
And fear, it may be, more than hate provoked 

you. 
Your ministers, I must think, wanted judgment, 
And so they erred : I'm bountiful to think this, 
Believe me, most bountiful : Be you most thank- 
ful; 
That bounty share amongst you. If I knew what 
To send you for a present, ting of Egypt, 
I mean a head of equal reputation, 
And that you loved, though it were your bright* 

est sister's, 
(But her you hate) I would not be behind you. 
PtoL Hear me, great Caesar ! 
Casar. I have heard too much ; 
And study not with smooth shows to invade 
My noble mind, as you have done my conquest: 
You are poor and open. I must tell you roundly, 
That man, that could not recompence the bene- 
fits, 
The great and bounteous services, of Pornpey, 
Can never dote upon the name of Caesar. 
Though I had hated Pompey, and allowed his 

ruin, 
I gave you no commission to perform it : 
Hasty to please in blood are seldom trusty; 
And, but I stand environed with my victories, 
My fortune never failing to befriend me, 
My noble strengths, and friends about my person, 
I durst not try you, nor expect a courtesy, 
Above the pious love you shewed to Pompey. 
You have found me merciful in arguing with ye ; 
Swords, hangmen, fires, destructions of all natures, 
Demolishments of kingdoms, and whole ruins, 
Are wont to be my orators. Turn to tears, 
You wretched ana poor reeds of sun-burnt Egypt, 
And now you have found the nature of a con- 
queror, 
That you cannot decline; with all your flatteries, 
That where the day gives light, will be himself 

still; 
Know how to meet his worth with humane courte- 
sies ! 
Go, and embalm those bones of that great soldier, 
Howl round about his pile, fling on your spices, 
Make a Sabsan bed, and place this phoenix, 
Where the hot sun may emulate his virtues, 
And draw another Pompey from his ashes, 
Divinely great, and fix him amongst the worthies! 
Ptol. We will do all. 
Casar. You have robbed him of those 



FlETCHMt.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



US 



H» kindred and his friends kept sacred for him, 
The vvpia of their funeral lamentations ; 
And that kind earth, that thought to cover him, 
(Ho conntrr* earth) will cry out against your 

cruelty, 
And weep unto the ocean for revenge, 
Till N'ilus raise his seven heads and devour ye ! 
My grief has stopt the rest ! When Pompey lived, 
lie used you nobly ; now he is dead, use him so. 

PtoL Sow, where's your confidence, your aim, 
Pbotinns, 
The oracles, and fair favours from the conqueror, 
Yoq rang into mine ears ? How stand I now ? 
You tee the tempest of his stern displeasure; 
The death of him, you urged a sacrifice 
To stop his rage, presaging a full ruin ! 
Where ire your counsels now ? 

Acker. I told you, sir, 
And told the truth, what danger would fly after : 
And, though an enemy, I satisfied you 
He was a Roman, and the top of honour ; 
And howsoever this might please great Caesar, 
Itald von, that the foulness of his death, 
baseness 



Pho. Peace ; you are a fool ! 
Men of deep ends must tread as deep ways to 

them; 
Cesar I know is pleased, and for all his sorrows, 
Which are put on for forms, and mere dissem- 

Mings, 
I am confident he Is glad : To have told you so, 
And ttnnked you outwardly, had been too open, 
And taken from the wisdom of a conqueror. 
Be confident, and proud you have done this ser- 
vice; 
Yoq have deserved, and you will find it, highly. 
Make bold use of this benefit, and be sure 
Yoq keep your sister, the high-souied Cleopatra, 
Both close and short enough, she may not see 
him. 

The rest, if I may counsel, sir 

P^ Do all; 
For in thy faithful service rests my safety. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. 

Enter SEPTiinrs. 

Sept. Here's a strange alteration in the court; 
Mens* faces are of other sets and motions, 
Their minds of subtler stuff. I pass by now, 
As though I were a rascal ; no man knows rae, 
No eye looks after ; as I were a plague, 
Their doors shut close against me, and I wonder- 
ed at, 
Because I have done a meritorious murder : 
Becane I have pleased the time, does the time 

plague me? 
I have known the day they would have hugged me 

for it; 
For a less stroke than this, have done me reve- 
rence, 

you i. 



I Opened their hearts, and secret closets to me, 
Their purses and their pleasures, and bid me wal- 
low. 
I now perceive the great thieves eat the less, 
And the huge leviathans of villainy 
Sup up the merits, nay, the men and all, 
That do them service, and spout them out again 
Into the air, as thin and unregarded 
As drops of water, that are lost in the ocean. 
I was loved once for swearing and for drinking, 
And for other principal qualities, that became me; 
Now a foolish unthankful murder has undone me, 
If my .lord Photinus be not merciful, 
That set me on. And he comes ; now, Fortune ! 

Enter Photinus. 

Pho. Caesar's unthankfulness a little stirs me, 
A litde frets my blood : Take heed, proud Ro- 
man! 
Provoke me not, stir not mine anger further ! 
I may find out a way unto thy life too, 
Though armed in all thy victories, and seize k ! 
A conqueror has a heart, and I may hit it. 

Sept. May't please your lordship 

Pho. Oh, Septimius ! 

Sept. Your lordship knows my wrongs ? 

Pho. Wrongs? 

Sept. Yes, my lord ; 
How the captain of the guard, Achillas, slights me? 

Pho. Think better of him, he has much be* 
friended thee, 
Shewed thee much love, in taking the head from 

thee. 
The times are altered, soldier ; Cesar's angry, 
And our design to please him, lost and perished : 
Be glad, thou art unnamed; 'tis not worth the 

owning. 
Yet, that thou mayest be useful 

Sept. Yes, my lord, 
I shall be ready. 

Pho. For I may employ thee 
To take a rub or two out of my way, 
As time shall serve ; say, that it be a brother, 
Or a hard father ? 

Sept. Tis most necessary ; 
A mother, or a sister, or whom you please, sir. 

Pke. Or to betray a noble friend r 

Sept. Tis all one. 

Pho. I know thou wilt stir for gold. 

Sept. Tis all my motion. 

Pho. There, take that for thy service, and fare- 
well ! 
I have greater business now. 

Sept. I'm still your own, sir. 

Pho. One thing I charge thee; see me no more, 
Septimius, 
Unless I send. [Exit. 

Sept. I shall observe vour hour. 
So! this brings something in the mouth, some 

favour : 
This is the lord I serve, the power I worship, 
My friends, allies ; and here lies my ajlegiance. 



114 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



[BeIumont & 



Let people talk as they please of my rudeness, 
And shun mc for my deed ; bring but this to them, 
Let roe be damned for blood, yet still I am ho- 
nourable : 

This god creates new tongues, and new affections; 
And, though I'd killed my father, give me gold, 
I'll make men swear I've done a pious sacrifice. 
Now I will out-brave all, make all my servants, 
And my brave deed shall be writ in wine for vir- 
tuous. [Exit. 

SCENE III. 

Enter C^saii, Antony, Dolabzlla, and 

Sceva. 

Cesar. Keep strong guards, and with wary eyes, 
my friends; 
There is no trusting to these base Egyptians : 
They, that are false to pious benefits. 
And make compelled necessities their faiths, 
Are traitors to the gods. 

Ant. We'll call ashore 
A legion of the best. 

Cesar. Not a man, Antony; 
That were to shew our fears, and dim oar great- 
ness : 
No ; 'tis enough my name's ashore. 

See. Too much too ; 
A sleeping Ctesar is enough to shake them* 
There are some two or three malicious rascals, 
Trained up in villainy, besides that Cerberus, 
That Roman dog, that licked the blood of Pom- 
pey. 

Do/, Tis strange ; a Roman soldier ? 

See. You are cozened ; 
There be of us, as be of all other nations, 
Villains and knaves : Tis not the name contains 

him, 
But the obedience ; when that is once forgotten, 
And duty flung away, then, welcome devil ! 
Photinus and Achillas, add this vermin, 
That's now become a natural crocodile, 
Must be with care observed. 

Ant. And 'tis well counselled; 
No confidence, nor trust 

See. Ill trust the sea first, 
When with her hollow murmurs she invites me, 
And clutches in her storms, as politic lions 
Conceal their claws ; I'll trust tne devil first ; 
The rule of ill I'll trust, before the doer. 

Cesar. Go to your rests, and follow your own 
wisdoms, 
And leave me to my thoughts; pray no more 

compliment ; 
Once more, strong watches. 

Dot. All shall be observed, suv [Exeunt. 

Manet Ccsar. 

Cesar. I'm dull and heavy, yet I cannot sleep. 
How happy was I, in my lawful wars 
In Germany, and Gaul, and Britany ! 
When every uight with pleasure I set down 



What the day ministered, the sleep came sweetly i 
But, since I undertook this home-division, 
This civil war, and passed the Rubicon, 
What have I done, that speaks an ancient Roman, 
A good, great man ? I have entered Rome by force, 
And on her tender womb, that gave me life, 
Let my insulting soldiers rudely trample : 
The dear veins of my country I have opened, 
And sailed upon the torrents, that flowed from 

her, 
The bloody streams, that in their confluence 
Carried before them thousand desolations : 
I robbed the treasury ; and at one gripe 
Snatched all the wealth so many worthy triumphs 
Placed there as sacred to the peace of Rome : 
I razed Massilia in my wanton anger; 
Petrcius and Afranius I defeated ; 
Pompey I overthrew ; what did that get me ? 
The slubbered name of an authorized enemy. 

[Noise wttki*. 
I hear some noise ; they are die watches, sure. 
What friends have I tied fast by these ambitions? 
Cato, the lover of his country's freedom, 
Is now passed into Africk to affront me ; 
Juba, that killed my friend, is up in arms too; 
The sons of Pompey are masters of the sea, 
And, from the relics of their scattered faction, 
A new head's sprung: Say, I defeat all these too? 
I come home crowned an honourable rebel. 
I hear the noise still, and it comes still nearer. 
Are the guards fast ? Who waits there ? 

Enter Sceva, toith a pockety Cleopatra in it. 

See. Are you awake, sir ? 

Cesar. In the name of wonder- — - 

See. Nay, I am a porter, 
A strong one too, or else my sides would crack, 

sir j 
An my sins were as weighty, I should scare* 
walk with them, 

Cesar. What hast thou there ? 

See. Ask them, which stay without, 
And brought it hither. Your presence I denied 

them, 
And put them by, took up the load myself. 
They say 'tis rich, and valued at the kingdom; 
I'm sure 'tis heavy : If you like to see it, 
You may ; if not, 111 give it back- 

Cesar. Stay, Sceva; 
I would fain see it. 

See. I'll begin to work then. 
No doubt, to flatter you, they have sent you some' 

thing 
Of a rich value, jewels, or some rich treasure. 
May-be, a rogue within, to do a mischief: 
I pray you stand further off} if there be villainy, 
Better my danger first; he shall escape hard too. 
Ha ! what art thou ? 

Cesar. Stand further ofE, good Sceva ! 
What heavenly vision? Do I wake or skanber? 
Further off; that hand, friend ! 

Sec, What apparition, 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



115 



What spirit, hate I raised ? Sure, 'tis a woman ; 
She leeks like one ; now she begins to move too. 
A tempting devil, o* my life ! Go off, Caesar ! 
Sir, if yon be a soldier, come no nearer; 
She's sent to dispossess you of your honour; 
A sponge, a sponge, to wipe away your victories. 
Be loyal to yourself! — Thou damned woman, 
Dost thou come hither with thy flourishes, 
Thy flaunts, and faces, to abuse men's manners ? 
Am am I made the instrument ? 

Cesar. Hold, on thy life, and be more tempe- 
rate, 
Than beast! 

See. Thou beast ? 

Cesar. Couldst thou be so inhuman, 
So far from noble man, to draw thy weapon 
Upon a thing divine ? 

Set. Divine, or human, 
Hie? 're never better pleased, nor more at heart's 



Thin when we draw with full intent upon them. 
Cesar. Move this way, lady : Pray you let me 
speak to you. 

See. And, woman, you had best stand - 

Cesar. By the gods, 
But that I see her here, and hope her mortal, 
I should imagine some celestial sweetness, 
The treasure of soft love ! 

Set. Oh, this sounds mangily, 
Poorly, and scurvily, in a soldier's mouth ! 
You'd best be troubled with the tooth-ache too, 
For lovers ever are, and let your nose drop, 
That your celestial beauty may befriend you. 
At these years, do you learn to be fantastical ? 
After so many bloody fields, a fool ? 
She brings her bed along too (she'll lose no time), 
Carries her litter to lie soft; do you see that r 
Invites you like a gamester; note that impudence. 
For shame, reflect upon yourself, your honour, 
Look back into your noble parts, and blush ! 
Let not the dear sweat of the hot Pharsalia, 
Mingle with base embraces 1 Am I he 
That have received so many wounds for Cesar ? 
Cpoa my target, groves of darts still growing ; 
Have I endured all, hungers, colds, distresses, 
And, as I had been bred that iron that armed me, 
Stood out all weathers, now to curse my fortune ? 
To ban the blood I lost for such a general ? 
Cesar. Oflend no more; be gone ! 
Set. I will, and leave you, 
Leave you to women's wars, that will proclaim 

you: 
Y«oTl conquer Rome now, and the capital, 
With fans and looking-glasses. Farewell, Caesar ! 

[Exit 
Cko. Now I am private, sir, I dare speak to 
you; 
But thus low first, for as a god I honour you ! 
Contemn me not, because I kneel thus, Cesar : 
I am a queen, and co-heir to this country, 
The sister to the mighty Ptolomy ; 
Yet one distressed, that flics unto thy justice, 



One, that lays sacred* hold on thy protection, 
As on a holy altar, to preserve ine. 

Cesar, Speak, queen of beauty, and stand up. 

Cleo. I dare not ; 
Till I have found that favour in thine eyes, 
That godlike great humanity, to help me. 
Thus, to thy knees must I grow, sacred Caesar, 
And, if it be not in thy will to right me, 
And raise me, like a queen, from my sad ruins ; 
If these soft tears cannot sink to thy pity, 
And waken, with their murmurs, thy compas- 
sions ; 
Yet, for thy nobleness, for virtue's sake, 
And, if thou be'st a man, for despised beauty, 
For honourable conquest, which thou dotest on, 
Let not those cankers of this flourishing kingdom, 
Photinus and Achillas, the one an eunuch, 
The other a base bondman, thus reign over me, 
Seize my inheritance, and leave my brother 
Nothing of what he dioirid he, but the title ! 
As thou art wonder of the world 

Cesar. Stand up then, 
And be a queen ; this hand shall give it to you : 
Or, chuse a greater name, worthy my bounty ; 
A common love makes queens : Chuse to be wor- 
shipped, 
To be divinely great, and I dare promise it. 
A suitor of your sort, and blessed sweetness, 
That hath adventured thus to see great Cesar, 
Must never be denied. You have found a patron, 
That dare not, in his private honour, suffer 
So great a blemish to the heaven of beauty : 
The god of love would clap his angry wings, 
And from His singing bow let fly those arrows, 
Headed with burning griefs and pining sorrows, 
Should I neglect your cause, would make me 

monstrous ; 
To whom, and to your service, I devote me ! 

Enter Sceva. 

Cleo. He is my conquest now, and so I'll work 
him; 
The conqueror of the world will I lead captive. 

See. Still with this woman? tilting still with 
babies ? 
As you are honest, think the enemy, 
Some valiant foe indeed, now charging on you, 
Ready to break your ranks, and fling these— 

Cesar. Hear me, 
But tell me true ; if thou hadst such a treasure, 
(And, as thou art a soldier, do not flatter me) 
Such a bright gem, brought to thee, wouldst thou 

not 
Most greedily accept ? 

See. Not as an emperor, 
A man that first should rule himself, then others : 
As a poor hungry soldier, I might bfte, sir ; 
Yet that is a weakness too. Hear me, thou temp- 
ter! 
And hear thou, Caesar, too, for it concerns thee, 
And if thy flesh be deef^ yet let thine honour, 
The soul of a commander, give ear to me. 



116 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 4- 



Thou wanton bane of war, thou gilded lethargy, 1 
In whose embraces, ease (the rust of arms) 
And pleasure (that makes soldiers poor) inhabits ! 
Catar. Fy ! thou blasphemest. 
See. I do, when she is a goddess. 
Thou melter of strong minds, darest thou pre- 
sume 
To smother all his triumphs with thy vanities? 
And tie him, like a slave, to thy proud beauties, 
To thy imperious looks, that kings have followed, 
Proud of their chains, have waited on ? I shame, 
sir ! 
Catar. Alas, thou art rather mad ! Take thy 
rest, Sceva ; 
Thy duty makes dice err; but I forgive thee. 
Go, go, I say ! shew me no disobedience ! 

[Exit Sceva. 
Tis well ; farewell ! The day will break, dear 

lady ; 
My soldiers will come in. Please you retire, 
And think upon your servant ? 



Cleo. Pray you, sir, know me, 
And what I am. 

Catar. The greater, I more love you ; 
And you must know me too. 

Cleo. So far as modesty, 
And majesty gives leave, sir. You are too vio- 
lent. 

Catar. You are too cold to my desires. 

Cleo. Swear to me, 
And by yourself (for I hold that oath sacred), 
You'll "right me as a queen- 

Catar. These lips fce witness ! 
And, if I break that oath -— 

Cleo. You make me blush, sir; 
And m that blush interpret me. 

Catar. I will do. 
Come, let us go in, and blush again. This one 

word, 
You shall believe. 

Cleo. I must; you arc a conqueror. [Exeunt, 



act in. 



SCENE I. 

Enter Ptolomy and Photinus. 

Pho. Good sir, but hear ! 

Ptol. No more ! you have undone me ! 
That, that I hourly feared, is fallen upon me, 
And heavily, and deadly, 

Pho. Hear a remedy. 

Pho. A remedy, now the disease is ulcerous, 
And has infected all ? Your secure negligence 
Mas broke through all the hopes I have, and 

ruined me ! 
My sifter is with Cesar, in his chamber ; 
All night she has been with him ; and, no doubt, 
Much to her honour. 

Pho. 'Would that were the worst, sir ! 
That will repair itself: But I fear mainly, 
She has made her peace with Cesar. 

Plot. 'Tis most likely ; 
And what am I then ? 

Pho. Plague upon that rascal, 
Apollodorus, under whose command, 
Under whose eye 

Enter Achillas. 

Ptol. Curse on you all, ye are wretches ! 

Pho. Twas providently done, Achillas. 

Achil. Pardon me. 

Pho. Your guards were rarely wise, and won- 
drous watchful ! 

Achil. I could not help it, if my life had lain 
for it. 
Alas, who would suspect a pack of bedding, 
Or a small truss of houshold furniture, 
And, as they said, for Caesar's use ? or who durst, 
Being for his private chamber, seek to stop it ? 
I was abused. 



Enter Achoreus. 



Achor. Tis no hour now for anger, 
No wisdom to debate with fruitless choler. 
Let us consider timely what we must do, 
Since she is flown to his protection, 
From whom we have no power to sever her, 
Nor force conditions. 

Ptol. Speak, good Achoreus. 

Achor. Let indirect and crooked counsels vanish, 
And straight and fair directions 

Pho. Speak your mind, sir. 

Achor. Let us chusc Cesar (and endear him to 
us) 
An arbitrator in all differences 
Betwixt you and your sister; this is safe now, 
And will shew oft, most honourable. 

Pho. Base, 
Most base and poor; a servile, cold submission ! 
Hear me, and pluck your hearts up, like stout 

counsellors ; 
Since we are sensible this Cesar loathes us, 
And have begun our fortune with great Pomper, 
Be of my mind. 

Achor. 'Tis most uncomely spoken, 
And if I say most bloodily, I lie not : 
The law of hospitality it poisons, 
And calls the gods in question, that dwell in us. 
Be wise, oh, king ! 

Ptol. I will be. Go, my counsellor, 
To Cesar go, and do my humble service ; 
To my fair sister my commends negociate ; 
And here I ratify whate'er thou treat's* on. 

Achor. Crowned with fair peace, I go. [Exit. 

PtoL My love go with thee ; 
And from my love go you, you cruel vipers ! 
You shall know now I am no ward. Photuws. 

[EA 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



117 



Pko. This for our service ? Princes do their 

And they, that serve, obey in all disgraces. 
Toe lowest, we can fall to, is our graves ; 
There we shall know no difference. Hark, Ach- 
illas! 
I may do something yet, when times are ripe, 
To tell this raw unthankful kin g 

Ackil. Pbouous, 
Whatever it be, I shall make one, and zealously : 
For better die attempting something nobly, 
Han fall disgraced. 
Pb. Thou lovestme, and I thank thee. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IL 

Eater Antony, Dolabella, and Sceva. 

DoL Nay, there is no rousing him ; he is be- 
witched sure, 
His noble blood curdled, and cold within him ; 
Grown now a woman's warrior. 

Ant. Be not too angry, 
For, by this light, the woman's a rare woman ; 
A lady of that catching youth and beauty, 
That unmatched sweetness— 

Dot. But why should he be fooled so ? 
let tar be what she will, why should his wisdom, 
His age, and honou r » - 

Ant. Say it were your own case, 
Or mine, or any man's, that has heat in him : 
To true, at this time, wlien he has no promise 
Of more security than his sword can cut through, 
1 da not hold it so discreet : But a good face, 

gentlemen, 
And eyes, that are the winningest orators, 
A jouth, that opens like perpetual spring, 
And, to all these, a tongue, that can deliver 

The oracJes of love 

See. I would you had her, 
With all her oracles, and miracles : 
She were fitter for your turn. 
Ant. 'Would I had, Sceva, 
With all her faults too ! let me alone to mend 

them; 
On that condition I made thee mine heir. 
See. I would rather have your black horse than 

your harlots. 
DoL Catsar writes sonnets now ; the sound of 



h grown too boisterous for his mouth ; he sighs too. 

See, And learns to fiddle most melodiously, 
And sings — it would make your ears prick up, to 

hear him, gentlemen. 
Shortly she will make him spin ; and it is thought 

he will prove 
An admirable maker of bonelace ; 
And what a rare gift will that be in a general ! 
Ant. I would he could abstain ! 
See. She is a witch sure, 
And works upon him with some damned enchant- 
ment. 
DoL How cunning she will carry her beha- 
viours, 



And set her countenance in a thousand postures. 
To catch her ends ! 

See. She will be sick, well, sullen, 
Merry, coy, overjoyed, and seem to die, 
All in one half-an-hour, to make an ass of him : 
I make no doubt she will be drunk too, damnably, 
And in her drink will fight ; then she fits him. 

Ant. That thou shouldst bring her in ! 

See. Twas my blind fortune. 
My soldien told me, by the weight, it was wicked. 
'Would I had carried Milo's bull a furlong, 
When I brought in this cow-calf ! He has advan- 
ced me, 
From an old soldier to a bawd of memory : 
Oh, that the sons of Poinpey were behind him, 
The honoured Cato and fierce Juba with them, 
That they might whip him from his whore, and 

rouse him; 
That their fierce trumpets from his wanton 

trances 
Might shake him, like an earthquake ! 

Enter Septimius. 

Ant. What is this fellow ? 

DoL Why, a brave fellow, if we judge men by 

their cloaths. 
Ant. By my faith, he is brave indeed ! He is 

no commander ? 
See. Yes, he has a Roman face ; he has been 
at fair wars, 
And plenteous too, and rich; his trappings shew 
it 
Sept. An they'll not know me now, the/11 ne- 
ver know me. 
Who dare blush now at my acquaintance ? Ha? 
Am I not totally a span-new gallant, 
Fit for the choicest eyes ? Have I not gold, 
The friendship of the world ? If they shun me 

now, 
(Though I were the arrantest rogue, as I'm well 

forward) 
Mine own curse and the devil's are lit on me. 
Ant. Is it not Septimius ? 
See. Yes. 

DoL He that killed Poinpey ? 
See. The same dog scab; that gilded botch, 

that rascal! 
DoL How glorious villainy appears in Egypt ! 
Sept. Gallants, and soldiers ! sure they do ad- 
mire me. 
See. Stand further off; thou stinkest. 
Sept. A likely matter : 
These cloaths smell inustily, do they not, gal- 
lants? 
They stink, they stink, alas, poor things, con- 
temptible ! 
By all the Gods in Egypt, the perfumes, 
That went to trimming these cloaths, cost m e 
See. Thou stinkest still. 
Sept. The powdering of this head too 
See. If thou hast it, 
I'll tell thee all the gums in sweet Arabia 



118 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 4 



Are not sufficient, were they burnt about thee, 

To purge the scent of a rank rascal from thee. 
Ant. I smell him now : Fy, how the knave 
perfumes him ! 

How strong he scents of traitor ! 
DoL You had an ill nuiliner, 

He laid too much of the gum of ingratitude 

Upon your coat; you should have washed off 
that, sir ; 

fy, how it choaks ! too little of your loyalty, 

Your honesty, your faith, that are pure ambers. 

I smell the rotten smell of a hired coward ; 

A dead dog's sweeter. 

Sept. Ye are merry, gentlemen, 

And, by my troth, such harmless mirth takes me too. 

You speak like good blunt soldiers! and it is 
well enough : 

But did you live at court, as I do, gallants, 

You would refine, and learn an apter language. 

I've done ye simple service on your Pompey ; 

You might have looked him yet this brace of 
twelvemonths, 

And hunted after him, like foundered beagles, 

Had not this fortunate hand 

Ant. He brags on't too, 

By the good gods, rejoices in it ! Thou wretch, 

Thou most contemptible slave ! 
See. Doe, mangy mongrel, 

Thou muracring mischief, in the shape of soldier, 

To make all soldiers hateful ! thou disease, 

That nothing but the gallows can give ease to ! 
DoL Thou art so impudent, that I admire thee, 

And know not what to say. 
Sept. I know your anger, 

And why you prate thus ; Fve found your me- 
lancholy : 

Ye all want money, and ye are liberal captains, 

And in this want will talk a little desperately. 

Here's gold ; come, share ; I love a brave com- 
mander : 

And be not peevish ; do as Caesar does ; 

He's merry with his wench now, be you jovial, 

And let's all laugh and drink. Would ye have 
partners? 

I do consider all your wants, and weigh them ; 

He has the mistress, you shall have the maids ; 

I'll bring them to ye, to your arms. 
Ant. I blush, 

All over me, I blush, and sweat to hear him; 

Upon my conscience, if my arms were on now, 

Through them I should blush too : Pray ye let's 
be walking. 
See. Yes, yes : But, ere we go, I'll leave this 
lesson, 

And let him study it: First, rogue! then, pandar! 

Next, devil that will be ! get thee from men's 
presence, 

And, where the name of soldier has been heard 
of, 

Be sure thou live not ! To some hungry desart, 

Where thou canst meet with nothing but thy 
conscience ; 



And that, in all the shapes of all thy villainies, 
Attend thee still ! where brute beasts will abhor 

thee, 
And even the sun will shame to give thee light, 
Go, hide thy head ! or, if thou thmk'st it fitter, 
Go hang thyself ! 

DoL Hark to that clause. 

Sec. And that speedily, 
That Nature may oe eased of such a monster ! 

[Exeunt. 

Manet Septimius. 

Sept. Yet all this moves not me, nor reflects 
on me ; 
I keep my gold still, and my confidence. 
Their want of breeding makes these fellows mur- 
mur; 
Rude valours, so I let them pass, rude honours ! 
There is a wench yet, that I know afiects me, 
And company for a king ; a young plump villain, 
That, when she sees this gold, she'll leap upon 



me; 



Enter Eros. 



And here she comes : I'm sure of her. 
My pretty Eros, welcome ! 

Erm. I have business. 

Sept. Above my love, thou canst not. 

Eroi. Yes, indeed, sir, 
Far, far above. 

Sept. Why, why so coy ? Pray you tell me. 
We are alone. 

Eros. I'm much ashamed we are so. 

Sept. You want a new gown now, and a hand* 
some petticoat, 
A scarf, and some odd toys : I've gold here ready; 
Thou shalt have any thing. 

Eros. I want your absence. 
Keep on your way ; I care not for your company. 

Sept. How? how? you are very short: Do 
you know me, Eros ? 
And what I have been to you ? 

Eros. Yes, I know you, 
And 1 hope I shall forget you : Whilst you were 

honest, 
I loved you too. 

Sept. Honest ? come, prithee kiss me. 

Eros. I kiss no knaves, no murderers, no beasts, 
No base betrayers of those men, that fed them; 
I hate their looks ; and though I may be wanton, 
I scorn to nourish it with bloody purchase, 
Purchase so foully got. I pray you, unhand me; 
I'd rather touch the plague, than one unworthy ! 
Go, seek some mistress that a horse may marry, 
And keep her company ; she's too good for vou. 

[£»r. 

Sept. Marry, this goes near ! now I perceive 
I'm hateful : 
When this light stuff can distinguish, it grows dan- 
gerous; 
For money, seldom they refuse a leper ; 
But sure I am more odious, more diseased too : 



1 



FlRTCHEt.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



*1§ 



Enter three lame Soldiers* 

It hits cold here. What are these? three poor 

loUieis? 
Both poor and lame : Their misery may make 

them 
A little look upon me, and adore me. 
If these will keep me company, I'm made yet 

1 Sold. The pleasure, Caesar sleeps in, makes 

hs miserable : 
We are forgot, our maims and dangers laughed at ; 
He banquets, and we beg. 

2 Sold, lie was not wont 

To let poor soldiers, that have spent their for- 
tunes, 
Heir bloods, and limbs, walk up and down like 
vagabonds. 
Sept. Save ye, good soldiers ! good poor men, 
heaven help ye ! 
Yebare borne the brunt of war, and shew the story. 
1 Sold Some new commander, sure. 
Sept. Yoa look, my good friends, 
By your thin faces, as you would be suitors. 
£ Sold. To Caesar, for our means, sir. 
Sept. And 'tis fit, sir. 

3 Sold, We are poor men, and long forgot 
Seat. I grieve for it; 
Good soldiers should have good rewards, and fa- 
vours. 
Hi rive up your petitions, for I pity you, 
And freely speak to Caesar. 
AIL Oh, we honour you ! 

1 Sold. A good man sure yon are ; the gods 

preserve you! 
Sept. And to relieve your wants the while, hold, 
soldiers ! [Give* money. 

Nay, 'tis no dream ; 'tis good gold; take it freely; 
ImQ keep von in good heart 

2 Sold, rfow goodness quit you ! 

Sept. Ill be a friend to your afflictions, 
And eat, and drink with you too, and well be 

merry; 
And every day Til see you 1 

1 Sold. You are a soldier, 
And one sent from the gods, I thinkt 

Sept. m doath ye, 
Ye are lame, and then provide good lodging for 

And at my table, where no want shall meet you. 

Enter Sceva. 

AIL Was never such a man ( 

1 Sold. Dear honoured sir, 

let us bat know jour name, that we may worship 
von. 

2 Sold. That we may" ever thank 

Sept. Why, call me any thing, 

No matter for my name—that may betray me. 

See. A cunning thief! Call him Septunius, sol- 
diers, 
The villain, that killed Pompey ! 

JlLUowi 



See* Call him (he shame of men ! [Exit. 

1 Sold. Oh, that this money 

Were weight enough to beat thy brains oat! 

Fling all; 
And fling our curses next ; let them be mortal ! 
Out, bloody wolf ! dost thou come gilded over, 
And painted with thy charity, to poison us ? 

2 Sold. I know him now : May never father 

own thee, 
But as a monstrous birth shun thy base memory ! 
And, if thou hadst a mother, (as I cannot 
Believe thou wert a natural burden) let her womb 
Be cursed of women for a bed of vipers ! 

3 Sold. Metbinks the ground shakes to devour 

this rascal, 
And the kind air turns into fogs and vapours, 
Infectious mists, to crown his villainies : 
Thou mayst go wander like a thing heaven-hated ! 

1 Sold. And valiant minds hold poisonous to 

remember! 
The hangman will not keep thee company; 
He has an honourable house to thine ; 
No, not a thief, though thou oouldst save his life 

for it, 
Will eat thy bread, nor one, for thirst starved, 

drink with thee ! 

2 Sold. Thou art no company for an honest 

dog, 
And so we'll leave thee to a ditch, thy destiny. 

[Exeunt. 
Sept. Contemned of all? and kicked too? Now 

I find it! 
My valour's fled, too, with mine honesty ; 
For since I would be knave, I must be coward. 
This 'tis to be a traitor, and betrayer. 
What a deformity dwells round about me ! 
How monstrous shews that man, that is ungrate* 

ful ! 
I am afraid the very beasts will tear me; 
Inspired with what I have done, the winds will 

blast me ! 
Now I am paid, and my reward dwells in me, 
The wages of my fact ; my soul's oppressed ! 
Honest and noble minds, you find more rest 

[Exit. 

SCENE HI 

Enter Ptolomy, Achoreus, Photinus, and 

Achillas* 

PtoL I have commanded, and it shall be so ! 
A preparation I have set on foot, 
Worthy the friendship and the fame of Caesar: 
My sister's favours shall seem poor and withered; 
Nay, she herself, trimmed up in all her beauties* 
Compared to what I'll take nis eyes withal, 
Shall be a dream. 

. Pko. Do you mean to shew the glory 
And wealth of Egypt? 

PtoL Yes; and in that lustre, 
Rome shall appear, in all her famous conquests, 
And all her riches, of no note unto it 



120 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont Jr 



Acker. Now you are reconciled to your fair 
sister, 
Take heed, sir, how you step into a danger, 
A danger of this precipice. But note, sir, 
For what Rome ever raised her mighty armies ; 
First for ambition, then for wealth. Tis madness, 
Nay, more, a secure impotence, to tempt 
An armed guest : Feed not an eye, that conquers, 
Nor teach a fortunate sword the way to be co- 
vetous. 

PtoL Ye judge amiss, and far too wide to al- 
ter me ; * 
Let all be ready, as I gave direction : 
Tlie secret way of all our wealth appearing 
Newly, and handsomely; and all about it: 
No more dissuading : Tis my will. 

Achor. I grieve for it. 

PtoL HI dazzle Caesar with excess of glory. 

Pho. I fear you'll curse your will ; we must 
obey you. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. 

Enter Casar, Antony, Dolabella, and Scev a, 

above. 

Casar. I wonder at the glory of this kingdom, 
And the most bounteous preparation, 
Still as I pass, they court me with. 

See. I'll tell you; 
In Gaul and Germany we saw such visions, 
And stood not to admire them, but possess them : 
When they are ours, they're worth our admiration. 

Enter Cleopatra. 

Ant. The young queen comes : Give room ! 

Casar. Welcome, my dearest ! 
Come, bless my side. 

She. Ay, marry, here's a wonder ! 
As she appears now, I am no true' soldier, 
If I be not readiest to recant 

Cleo. Be merry, sir ; 
My brother will be proud to do you honour, 
That now appears himself. 

Enter Ptolomt, Achoreus, Achillas, Pho- 
tinus, and Apollodorus. 

PtoL Hail to great Caesar, 
My royal guest ! First I will feast thine eyes 
With wealthy Egypt's store, and then thy palate, 
And wait myself upon thee. [Treasure brought in. 

Casar. What rich service ! 
What mines of treasure ! richer still ? 

Cleo. My Caesar, 
What do you admire ? Pray you turn, and let me 

talk to you. 
Have you forgot me, sir? How, a new object? 
Am I grown old on the sudden ? Caesar ! 

Casar. Tell me, 
From whence comes all this wealth ? 

Cleo. Is your eye that way, 
And all my beauties banished ? 

PtoL I'd tell thee, Cesar ; 



We owe for all this wealth to the old Nilus : 
We need no dropping ram to cheer the husband- 
man, 
Nor merchant, that ploughs up the sea to seek us ; 
Within the wealthy womb of reverend Nilus, 
All this is nourished ; who, to do thee honour, 
Comes to discover his seven deities, 
His concealed heads, unto thee : See with plea- 
sure. 

Casar. The matchless wealth of this land ! 

Cleo. Come, you shall hear me. 

Casar. Away ! Let me imagine. 

Cleo. How ! frown on me ? 
The eyes of Caesar wrapt in storms ! 

Casar. Fm sorry : 
But, let me think— 

Music. — Enter Isis, and three Labourers. 

Isis. Isis, the goddess of this lana\ 
Bids thee 9 great Casar, understand 
And mark our customs, and first know, 
With greedy eyes these watch the flow 
Of plenteous Nilus; when he comes, 
With songs, with dances, timbrels, drums, 
They entertain him ; cut his way, 
And give his proud heads leave to play : 

Nilus himself shall rise, and shew 

His matchless wealth in overflow. 
Labourers. Come, let us help the reverend Nile; 
His very old ; alas the while ! 
Let us dig him easy ways, 
And prepare a thousand plays : 
To delight his streams, lets sing 
A loud welcome to our spring ; / 

This way let his curling heads 
Fall into our new-made beds ; 
This way let his wanton spawns 
Frisk, and glide it o'er the lawnt. 
This way profit comes, and gain : 
How he tumbles here amain ! 
How his waters haste to fall 
Into our channels / Labour, all} 
And let him ; let Nilus flow, 
And perpetual plenty shew. 
With incense let us bless the brim, 
And as the wanton fishes swim, 
Let us gums and garlands flings 
And hud our timbrels ring. 

Come, old father, come away f 

Our labour is our holiday. 

Enter Nilus. 

Isis. Here comes the aged River now, 
With garlands of great pearl his brow 
Begirt and rounded : In his flow 
All things take life, and all things grow* 
A thousand wealthy treasures stud, 
To do him service at his will, 
Follow his rising flood, and pour 
Perpetual blessings in our store. 
Hear him ; and next there will advance 
His sacred heads, to tread a dance 

2 



Flbtcbii.} 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



121 



h ksnmr efny royal guest r 

Mark them too; and you have a /hut. 



Geo. A little dross betray me? 

fior. I an ashamed I warred at home, my 

f,;,,,i * J 

When men wealth may be got abroad ! What 

honour, 
Nit, everlasting glory, had Rome purchased, 
Had me a jot came but to visit Egypt ! 

Kin* Make room far my rich waters' fall, 
And bless my flood ; 
Kiks cants flowing to you all 

Encrease and good* 
Hew the plants and flowers shall spring, 
And the merry ploughman sing. 
In a» hidden moves I bring 
btad, and wine, and every thing. 
Let the damsels sing me in, 

Sing aloud, that I may rise : 
Your holy feasts and hours begin, 
And each hand bring a sacrifice. 



Now my wanton pearh I shew, 
That to ladies' fair necks grow. 
Now my gold 
And treasures, that can ne'er be told> 
Shall bless this land, by my rich flow, 
And after this, to crown your eyes, 
My hidden holy head arise. [Dance. 

Cesar. The Wonder of this wealth so troubles 
me, 
I am not well : Good night ! 

See. Fm glad you have it i 
Now we shall stir again. 

DoL Thou wealth; still haunt hhn ! 

See. A greedy spirit set thee on ! We're happy* 

PtoL Lights, lights for Caesar, and attendance ! 

Cleo. Well, 
I shall yet find a time to tell thee* Caesar, 
Thou hast wronged her love— -The rest here. 

PtoL Lights along still : 
Music, and sacrifice to sleep* for Cauar. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE!. 



Enter Ptolomt, Photikus, AontLtAS, and 
Acaoasus. 

Acker. I told yoa carefully, what this would 
prove to, 
What this inestimable wealth and glory 
WoaJd draw upon you : I advised your majesty 
Never to tempt a conquering guest, nor add 
A bait, to catch a mind, bent by hit trade 
To make the whole world his* 

Pko. I was not heard, sir, 
Or, what I said, lost and contemned: I dare say, 
And freshly now, 'twas a poor weakness in you, 
A glorious childishness ! I watched his eye, 
Aad saw how fataon-bke it towered, and flew 
Upon the wealthy quarry; how round it marked it : 
1 observed his words, and to what it tended ; 
How greedily he asked from whence it came, 
And what commerce we held for such abundance* 
The show of Niltss how he laboured at) 
To find the secret ways the song delivered ! 

Achor. He never smiled, i noted, at the plea- 



Bat fixed his constant eyes upon the treasure : 
I do not think his ears had so much leisure, 
After the wealth appeared, to hear the music. 
Moat sure he has not slept since; his mind's 

troubles 
wlm objects, that would make their own still la- 
bour. 
Pfe Yomt *tor he ««• pfatf oft; tW.« 
mam note* 
The prmebeamtyef the woxWhiMi no power over 



VouL 



Achor. Where was his mind die whilst f 

Pho. Where was your carefulness, 
To shew an armed thief the way to rob you ? 
Nay, would you give him this, it will excite him 
To seek the rest: Ambition feels no gift, 
Nor knows no bounds; indeed you have done 
most weakly. 

PtoL Can I be too kind to my noble friend r 

Pho* To be unkind unto your noble self, but 
savours 
Of indiscretion ; and your friend has found it 
Had you been trained up in the wants and mi- 
series 
A soldier marches through, and known his tem- 
perance 
In offered courtesies, you would have made 
A wiser master of your own, and stronger. 

PtoL Why, should I give him all, he would re- 
turn it : 
Tis more to him to make kings. 

Pho. Pray be wiser, 
And trust not, with your lost wealth, your loved 

liberty: 
To be a king still at your own discretion, 
Is like a king; to be at his, a vassal. 
Now take good counsel, or no more take to you 
The freedom of a prince. 

AchiL Twill be too late else : 
For, since the masque, he sent three of his oat* 

tains, 
Ambitious as himself, to view again 
The glory of your wealth. 

Pho. The next himself comes, 
Not staying for your courtesy, and takes it* 

PtoL What counsel, my Aoherensr 



12£ 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont k 



Achor. HI go pray, sir, 
(For that's best- counsel now) the gods may help 
you. [Exit. 

Pho. I found you out a way, but 'twas not cre- 
dited ; 
A most secure way : Whither will you fly now ? 
AchiL For when your wealth is gdne, your 

' power must follow. 
Pho. And that diminished also} what's your 
life worth ? 
Who would regard it ? 
Ptol. You say true. 
AchiL What eye 
Will look upon king Ptolomy ? If they do look, 
It must be in scorn ; for a poor king's a monster : 
What ear remember ye ? 'twill be then a courtesy, 
A noble one, to take your life too from you : 
But if reserved, you stand to fill a victory ; 
As who knows conquerors' minds, though out- 
wardly 
They bear fair streams ? Oh, sir, does not this 
shake ye ? 

If to be honied on to these afflictions 

Ptol. I never will : I was a fool ! 
Pho. For then, sir, 
Your country's cause falls with you too, and fet- 
tered: 
All Egypt shall be ploughed up with dishonour. 
Ptol. No more ; I am sensible : And now my 
spirit 
Burns hot within roe. 

AchiL Keep it warm and fiery; 
Phot And last, be counselled. 
Ptol. I will, though I perish. 
Pho. Go in : We'll tell you all, and men we'll 
execute. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II; 

Enter Cleopatra, Arsinoe, and Eros. 

An. You are so impatient ! 

Cleo. Have I not cause ? 
Women of common beauties, and low births, 
When they are slighted, are allowed their angers : 
Why should not I, a princess, make him know 
The baseness of his usage ? 

Art. Yes, it is fit i 
But then again, you know, what ma n -  

Cleo. He is no man ! 
The shadow of a greatness hangs upon him, 
And not the virtue : He is no conqueror, 
Has suffered under the base dross of nature ; 
Poorly delivered up his power to wealth, 
The god of bed-ria men, taught his eyes treason ; 
Against the truth of love he has raised rebellion, 
Defied his holy flames. 

Eros. He will fall back again, 
And satisfy your grace* 

Cleo. Had I been old, 
Or blasted in my bud, he might have shewed 
Some shadow of dislike : But, to prefer 
The lustre of a little trashy Arsinoe, 



And the poor glow-worm tight of some faint 

jewels, 
Before the life of love, and soul of beauty, 
Oh, how it vexes me ! He is no soldier; 
All honourable soldiers are love's servants; 
He is a merchant, a mere wandering merchant, 
Servile to gain : He trades for poor commodities* 
And makes his conquests, thefts ! Some fortu- 
nate captains, 
That quarter with him, and are truly valiant, 
Have flung the name of happy Caesar on him; 
Himself ne'er won it : He is so base and cove- 
tous, 
He'll sell his sword for gold ! 

Art. This is too bitter. 

Cleo. Oh, I could curse myself, that was so 
foolish, 
So fondly childish, to believe his tongue, 
His promising tongue, ere I could catch his tem- 
per. 
I had trash enough to have cloyed his eyes withal, * 
(His covetous eyes) such as I scorn to tread on, 
Richer than ever he saw yet, and more tempting; 
Had I known he had stooped at that, I had saved 

mine honour, 
I had been happy still ! But let him take it, 
And let him brag how poorly I am rewarded ; 
Let him go conquer still weak wretched ladies : 
Love has his angry quiver too, his deadly, 
And, when he finds scont, armed at the strongest, 
I am a fool to fret thus for a fool, 
An old blind fool too ! I lose my health; I will 

not, 
I will not cry; I will riot honour him 
With tears diviner than the gods he worships; 
I will not take the pains to curse a poor thing I 

Eros. Do not 3 you shall not need. 

Cleo. 'Would I were prisoner 
To one I hate, that I might anger him ! 
I will love any man, to break the heart of him! 
Any, that has the heart and will to kill him ! 

Art. Take some fair truce** 

Cleo. I will go study mischief, 
And put a look on, armed with all my cunniocs/ ' 
Shall meet him like a basilisk-, and strike him ! 
Love, put destroying flames into mine eyes, 
Into my smiles deceits, that I may torture him, 
That I may make him love to death, and laugh 
at him ! 

Enter Appolodorus. 

Apol. Cesar commends his service to yoUf 
grace; 

Cleo. His service ? what is his service ? 

Eros. Pray you be patient : 
The noble Caesar loves still. 

Cleo. What is his will? 

Apol. He craves access unto your highness. 

Cleo. No; 
Say, no ; I will have none to trouble a - 

Art. Good sister ! 

• Cleo. None, I say ; I will be private. 
'Would thou hadst flung me into Nilos, keeper, 



/ 



Feetchi*.} 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



m 



When first thou gavest consent, to bring my body 
To this unthankful Cesar ! 

Apsi Twas your will, madam, 
Nay more, jour charge upon me, as I honoured 

you. 
Ton know what danger I endured. 

On. Take this, [Ghing a jewel. 

And cany it to that lordly Caesar sent thee ; * 
There's a new love, a handsome one, a rich one, 
One that will hug his mind : Bid him make love 

to it; 
Tell the ambitious broker, this will suffer 

.Enter Cesae. 

JpeL He enters. 
CW How! 

Catr. I do not use to wait, lady; 
Where I am, all the doors are free and open. 
Cko. I guess so, by your rudeness. 
Ccmt. You are not angry ? 
Things of tout tender mould should be most 

pentle. 
Why do you frown? Good Gods, what a set anger 
Hare you forced into your face? Come, I must 

temper you. » 
What a coy smile was there, and a disdainful ! 
How like an ominous flash it broke out from you ! 
Defend me, Love ! Sweety-who has angered you ? 
Cko. Shew him a glass ! That false face has 
betrayed me, 
That haw heart wronged me ! 

Gofer. Be more sweetly angry. 
I wronged you, fair? 

Cko. Away with your foul flatteries ; 
flier are too gross ! But that I dare be angry, 
And with as great a god as Caesar is, 
To shew how poorly I respect his memory, 
I would not speak to yon. 

Cost. Pray you undo this riddle, 
And tell me how I have vexed you ? 

Cko. Let me think first, 
Whether I may put on a patience, 
flat will with honour suffer me. Know, I hate 

you! 
1* that begin the story: Now, I'll tell you. 
Cesar. Bat do it milder : In a noble lady 
Softness of spirit, and a sober nature, 
That moves tike summer winds, cool, and blows 



Shews blessed, like herself. 

Cko. And that great blessedness 
Ton reaped of me : Till vou taught my nature, 
like a rude storm, to talk aloud, and thunder, 
% was not gentler than my soul, and stiller. 
Yon had the spaing of my affections, 
And my fair fruits I gave you leave to taste of; 
You must expect the winter of mine anger. 
You flung me offj before the court disgraced me, 
When in the pride I appeared of all my beauty, 
Appeared your mistress ; took into your eyes 
The conunon strumpet, love of hated lucre, 
Conned with covetous heart the slave of nature, 



Gave all your thoughts to gold, that men of glory*, 
And minds adorned with noble love, would kick 

at! 
Soldiers of royal mark scorn such base purchase > 
Beauty and honour arc the marks they shoot at. 
I spake to you then, I courted you, and wooed 

you, 
Called you ' dear Caesar/ hung about you ten- 

dferly, 

Was proud to appear your friend  

Casar. You nave mistaken me. 

Cleo* But neither eye, nor favour, not a smile, 
Was I blessed back withal, but shook off rudely ; 
And, as you had been sold to sordid infamy, 
You fell before the images of treasure, 
And in your soul you worshipped : I stood slighted, 
Forgotten and condemned ; my soft embraces, 
And those sweet kisses you called Elysium, 
As letters writ in sand r no more remembered 
The name and glory of your Cleopatra 
Laughed at, and made a story to your captains ! 
Shall I endure ? 

Casar. You are deceived in all this ; 
Upon my life you are; 'tis your much tenderness. 

Cleo. No, no ; I love not that way ; . you art 
cozened: 
I love with as much ambition as a conqueror ; 
And, where I love, will triumph ! 

Casar. So you shall ; 
My heart shall be the chariot, that shall bear you; 
AU, I have won, shall wait upon you. — By the 

gods, 
The bravery of this woman's mind has fired me !— •% 
Dear mistress, shall I but this nighu— > 

Cleo. How, Caesar? 
Have I let slip a second vanity, 
That gives thee bone ? 

Casar. You shall be absolute, 
And reign alone as queen ; you shall be any thing ! 

Cleo. Make me a maid again, and then Til 
hear thee; 
Examine all thy art of war to do that, 
And, if thou findest it possible, HI love thee : 
Till when, farewell, unthankful ! 

Casar. Stay ! T 

Cleo. I will not. 

Casar. I command ! 

Cleo. Command, and go without, sir. 
I do command thee, be my slave for ever, 
And vex, while I laugh at thee. 

Casar. Thus low, beaut y 

Cleo. It is too late ; when I have found thee 
absolute, 
The man, that fame reports thee, and to me,. 
May-be I shall think better. Farewell, conqueror I 

[Exit. 

Casar. She mocks me too ! I will enjoy her 
beauty; 
I will not be denied ; I'll force my longing ! 
Love is best pleased, when roundly we compel 

him ; 
And, as he is imperious, so will I be. 



1*4 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



BftAV MONT f 



Stat, fool, and he adriaedj that dulls tht appetite, 
Takes off the strength and sweetness of dtught 
By heaven she is a miracle ! I must use 
A han ds o me way to win— ^~—-How now? What 

fear 
Dwells in your faces ? you look all distracted 

Enter Sckva, A* tony, and Dolabelia. 

See. If it be fear, 'tis fear of your undoing, 
Not of ourselves; fear of your poor declining; 
Our lives and deaths are equal benefits, 
And we make louder prayers to die nobly, 
Than to lhre high and wantonly. Whilst yon 

are secure here, 
And offer hecatombs of lasy kisses 
To the lewd god of love and cowardice, 
And most lasciviously die in delights, 
You are begirt with the fierce Alexandrians. 
DoL The spawn of Egypt flow about your 
palace, 
Armed all, and ready to assault. 

Ant, Led on 
By the false and base Photinus, and his ministers. 
Ko stirring out, no peeping through a loop-hole, 
But straight sahited with an armed dart 

See. No parley; they are deaf to all but danger. 
They swear they'll flay us, and then dry our 

quarters ; 
A rasher of a salt lover is such a shoeing-horn ! 
Can you kiss away this conspiracy, and 6et us free? 
Or will the giant god of love fight for you r 
Will his fierce warlike bow kill a coek-sparrow ? 
Bring out the lady ! she can quell this mutiny, 
And with her powerful looks strike awe into 

them; 
She can destroy and build again the city ; 
Your goddesses have mighty gifts! Shew them 

her fair form. 
They are not above a hundred thousand, sir, 
A mist, a mist ! that, when her eyes break out, 
Jler powerful radiant eyes, and shake their flashes, 
Will fly before her heats ! 
Cmutt. Begirt with villains ? 
See. They come to play you and your love a 
hunts-up. 
You were told what this same whoreson wench- 
ing long ago would come to : 
You are taken napping now ! Has not a soldier 
A time to kiss his friend, and a time to consider, 
But he must lie still digging like a pioneer, 
Making of mines, and burying of his honour 

there * 
Twere good you'd thin k - 

DoL And time too ; or you'll lad else 
A harder task than courting a coy beauty. 
Ant. Look out, and then believe. 
See. No, no, hang danger; 
Take me provoking broth, and then go to her, 
Go to your love, and let her feel your valour. 
When the sword is in vour throat, sir, 
You may cry, ( Cesar V and see, if that will help 
yoq. 



C*s«r. HI be myself again, and meet their n> 

ries, 
Meet, and consume their mischiefs. Make some 

shift, Sceva, 
To recover the fleet, and bring me up two legions, 
And you shall see me, how I'll break like then* 

der 
Amongst these beds of slimy eels, and scatter 

them* 
See. Now you speak sense, HI put my lifs U 

the hazard. 
Before I go, no more of this warm lady ! 
Shell spoilyour sword-hand. 

Catar. (Jo. Come, let us to counsel, 
How to prevent, and then to execute. [£fcnjif. 

SCENE in. 

Enter Soldier*. 

1 Sold. Did you see this penitence f 

2 Sold. Yea, I saw, and heard it 

3 Sold And I too looked upon him, and ob- 

served it; 
He is the strangest Septunius now—— 

1 gold. I heard he was altered, 
And had given away ms gold to honest use* 
Cried monstrously. 

9 Saft He cries abundantly; 
He is blind almost with weeping. 

3 Sold. Tis most wonderful, 
That a hard-hearted man, and an oW soldier, 
Should have so much kind moisture. When his 

mother died, 
He laughed aloud, and made the wickedest sel- 

1 Sold Tis like enough: he never loved his pa- 
rents; 

Nor can I blame him, fee they never saved hiss. 

His mother dreamed, before aha 

That she was brought a-bed with. a. 
ever after 

She whistled him up So she world. Iik brave 
clothes, too, 

He has flung away, and goes like one of as now ; 

Walks with his hands m his pockets, poor and 
sorrowful, 

And gives the beet instractioae I 
8 SokL And talk stories 

Of honest and good people, that were honoured, 

And how they were remember* ~ 

If he but hear of an ttagnrteful 

A bloody or betraying man. 
3&M. IfitbeeoasieLe, 

That an arch-villain may ever be recov ered, 

This penitent rascal will put hard. Twere worm 
our labour 

To see him once again, 

.Enter Septimius. 

1 Sold, He spares ub that labour, 
For here he comes. 
Sept. Bless ye, my honest friends* 



f Litem.] 



BRITISH DRAMA* 



l*J 



Bkss jehm bate imworthymen! Come not 

S«Sr**e, 

For I a* jet too taking for your company, 

l&aiDidlaottellye? 

tSoUL What book is that? 

l&U No doubt, 
Some eiceileat salve for a tore heart. Are you 
Scaaeuut) lint bane knave, that betrayed Pom* 

&pt.Iwaa, and mm; unless your honest thoughts 
Will look upon my penitence, end save ma, 
I mat be ever villain. Oh, good soldiers, 
Ton, that have Roman hearts, take heed of false- 
hood; 
Take heed of Wood; take heed of ftwl ingrati- 



Tbe gods have ecaice a mercy for those mawraefs* 
Take heed of pride ;itwae that; that brought me 
to it. 
tSoldr Ibis feuW would make a rate speech 

at the gallows. 
5 Sold. Us very at he were banged to edify 

Sept. Let all your thoughts be humble and obe- 
dient; 
lew joar ceminaochva, honotir them, that feed 

Pray, that ye may be strong in honesty, - 
As id the use of areas; labour, and diligently, 

ami her base is- 

those spoiled 



To keep your hearts from 

sues, 
Pride and 



Bather lose all year limbs, then the least honesty; 
You are never lame indeed, till loss of credit 
Bejussb ye through; sears, and those inaims of 

honour, 
Are memorable ersrtehas, that shall bear, 
When you are dead, year noble names to eterni- 
l&UIcry. 
Sesai And so do L 
3 SoltL An excellent villain ! 
1 Sold. A more sweet pious knave, I never 

heard yet 
I SqM. He wee happy he was rascal, to come 
to due. 

Enter Achobeus. 

Who is this ? a priest ? 

Sept. Oh, stay, most holy sir ! 
And, by the gods of Egypt, I conjure ye, 
las, and great Osiris, mty me, 
Pity a loaaen mam ! ami tell me truly, 
Win what moat bumble sacrifice I may 
Wash off my sin, and appease the powers, that 

hate me? 
Take from my heart those thousand thousand fu- 



That restless gnaw upon my life, and save me ! 
Orestes' bloody bands fell on his mother, 
Yet at the holy altar be was pardoned. 



Ackor. Orestes out of madness did bis murder, 

And therefore he found grace: Thou, worst of 

all men, 
Out of cold blood, and hope of gain, base lucre, 
Slewest thine own feeder ! Come not near the 

altaiv 
Nor with thy reeking hands pollute' the sacrifice; 
Thou art marked for shame eternal ! [Exit. 

Sept. Look all on me, 
And let me be a story, left to time, 
Of blood and infamy ! How base and ugly 
Ingratitude appears, with all her profits 1 
How monstrous my hoped grace at court ! Good 

soldiers, 
Let neither flattery, nor the witching sound 
Of high and soft preferment, touch your goodness : 
To be valiant, old, and honest, oh, what blessed* 

nessi 

1 Sold. Dost thou want any thing ? 
Sept. Nothing but your prayers. 

2 Sold. Be thus, ana let the blind priest do his 

worst; 
We've gods as well as they, and they will hear us. 

3 Soli. Come, cry no more : Thou hast wept 

out twenty Pompeys. 

Enter Photinvs and Achillas. 

Pho. So penitent? 

AM. It seems so. 

Pho. Yet for all this 
We must employ him. 

1 Sold. These are the armed soldier-leaders : 
Away, and let's to the fort; we shall be snapt 
else. [Exeunt. 

Pho. How now? Why thus? What cause of 
this dejection ? 

AdriL Why dost thou weep? 

Sept. Pray leave me ; you nave ruined me, 
You nave made me a famous villain ! 

Pho. Does that touch thee ? 

Achil. He wiD be hard to win. 

Pho. He must be won, or we shall want our 
right hand. 
This fellow dares, and knows, and mast be heart* 

ened. 
Art thou so poor to blench at what thou hast done? 
Is conscience a comrade for an old soldier ? 

AchiL It is not that; it may be some disgrace, 
That he takes heavily, and would be cherished. 
Septimius ever scorned to shew such weakness. 

Sept. Let me alone ; I am not for your pur- 
pose; 
I am now a new man. 

Pho. We have new anairs for thee; 
Those, that will raise thy head. 

Sept. I would it were off, 
And in your bellies, for the love you bear met 
I'll be no more knave ; I have stings enough 
Already in my breast. 

Pho. Thou shalt be noble; 
And who dares think then, that thou art not be* 
nest? 



126 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont 4 



Achil. Thou shalt command in chief all our 
strong forces ; 
And if thou servest an use, must not all justify 
it? 
Sept. I am rogue enough. 
Pho. Thou wilt be more and baser ; 
A poor rogue's all rogues, open to all shames ; 
Nothing to shadow him. Dost thou think crying 
Can keep thee from the censure of the multi- 
tude ? . 
Or to be kneeling at the ahar, save thee? 
'Tis poor and servile ! Wert thou thine own sa- 
crifice, 
Twould seem so low, people would spit the fire 
out 
AchiL Keep thyself glorious still, though ne'er 
so stained, 
And that will lessen it, if not work it out 
To go complaining thus, and thus repenting, 
Like a poor girl that had betrayed ner maiden- 
head 

Sept. I'll stop mine ears. 
AchiL Will shew so in a soldier, 
So simply and so ridiculously, so tamely- 



Pho. If people would believe thee, it were some 
honesty ; 

And for thy penitence would not laugh at thee, 
(As sure they will) and beat thee, for thy poverty ; 
If they'd allow thy foolery, there were some hope. 
Sept . My foolery ? 

Pho. Nay, more than that, thy misery, 
Thy monstrous misery. 

AchiL He begins to hearken.— 
Thy misery so great, men will not bury thee. 
Sept. That this were true ! 
Pho. Why does this conquering Cesar 
Labour through the world's deep seas of toils and 

troubles, 
Dangers, and desperate hopes ? to repent after- 
wards? 
Why does he slaughter thousands in a battle, 
And whip his country with the sword r to cry for 

it? 
Thou killedst great Pompey : Hell kill all his 

kindred, 
And justify it ; nay, raise up trophies to it. 
When thou nearest him repent (he is held most 
holy too), 



And cry for doing dairy bloody murders, 
Take thou example, and go ask forgiveness; 
Call up the thing, thou names* thy conscieoce, 
And let it work ; then 'twill seem well, Septi- 
mius. 

Sept, He does all this, 

Achil Yes, and is honoured for it; 
Nay, called the honoured Caesar : So mayst thou 

be; 
Thou wert born as near a crown as he, 

Sept. He was poor. 

Pho. And desperate bloody tricks got au 
credit 

Sept. I am afraid you will once 

Pho. Help to raise thee. 
Off with thy pining black ; it dulls a soldier, 
And put on resolution like a man: 
A noole fate waits on thee. 

Sept. I now feel 
Myself returning rascal speedily* 
Oh, that I had the power 

Achil. Thou shalt have all ; 
And do all through thy power. Men shall ad- 
mire thee, 
And the vices of Septiraius shall turn virtues. 

Sept. Off, off! thou must off; oflj my cowar- 
dice ! 
Puling repentance, off! 

Pho. « ow thou speakest nobly. 

Sept. Off, my dejected looks, and welcome, iia- 
pudence ! 
My daring shall be deity, to save me. 
Give me instructions, and put action on me, 
A glorious cause upon my sword's point, gen- 
tlemen,. 
And let my wit and valour work. Yon will raise 

me, 
And make me out-dare all my miseries. 

Pho. All this, and all thy wishes. 

Sept. Use me, then. 
Womanish fear, farewell ! I'll never melt more. 
Lead on to some great thing, to wake my spirit! 
I cut the cedar Pompey, and Til fell 
This, huge oak Caesar, too. 

Pho. Now thou singest sweetly, 
And Ptolpmy shall crown thee for thy service. 

AchiL He's well wrought ; put htm on apace, 
before cooling. [EreunL 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. 

Enter Cjesah, Antony, and Dolabella, 

Ant. The tumult still encreases. 

C*tar. Oh, my fortune ! 
My lustful folly rather ! But 'tis well, 
And worthily I'm made a bondman's prey, 
That (after all my glorious victories, 
In which I passed so many seas of dangers, 
When all the elements conspired against me) 



Would yield up the dominion of this head 
To any mortal power'; so blind and stupid. 
To trust these base Egyptians, that proclaimed 
Their perjuries in noble Pompey's death, •• 

And yet that could not warn me ! 

DoL Be still Cesar, 
Who ever loved to exercise his fate, 
Where danger looked most dreadful. 

Ant. If you fall, 
Fall not alone ; let the king and hjs 



Fletchh.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



l«7 



Be buried in yoor ruins : On my life, 

They both are guilty ! Reason may assure you, 

Pboftnas nor Achillas durst attempt you, 

Or Jake one dart, or sword, aimed at your 

safety, 
Without their warrant. 

Cetar. For the young king, t know not 
How he may be misled ; but for his sister, 
Unequalled Cleopatra, 'twere a kind 
Of blasphemy to doubt her : Ugly treason 
Durst never dwell in such a glorious building ; 
Nor caa so clear and great a spirit as hers is 
Admit of falsehood. 

4mL bet ns seize on him then ; 
And leave her to her fortune. 

JkL If he have power, 
Use it to your security, and let 
His honesty acquit him ; if he be false, 
It is too great an honour he should die 
By ysor victorious hand. 

Co*. He cornea, and I 
Skill do as I find cause. 

Enter Ptolomy, AcmoREtrs, And Apollodorus. 

P/oL Let not great Cesar 
Impate the breach of hospitality 
To yw, my guest, to me ! I am contemned, 
And my rebellious subjects lift their hands 
Against my head ; and 'would they aimed no fur- 
ther, 
Provided, that 1 fell a sacrifice 
To pun you safety ! That this is not feigned, 
The boldness of my innocence may confirm you : 
Had I been privy to their bloody plot, 
I now had led them on, and given mir gloss 
To their bad cause, by being present with 

them* 
Bat I; that yet taste of the punishment 
In being fabe to Pompey, will not make 
A second fault to Caesar, uncompelled : 
Whh such as have not yet shook off obedience, 
I yield myself to you, and will take part 
In all your dangers. 

Crai r. This pleads your excuse, 
And I receive it. 

Aehor. If they have any touch 
Of justice, or religion, I will use 
The authority of our gods, to call them back 
from their bad purpose. 

ApoL This part of the palace 
Is yet defensible ; we may make it good 
Till your powers rescue us. 
Cesar. Caesar besieged ? 
Oh, stain to my great actions ! Twas my custom, 
An army routed, as my feet had wings, 
To be first in the chase ; nor walls, nor bulwarks 
Could guard those, that escaped the battle's fury, 
From this strong arm ; and I to be enclosed \ 
My heart ! my heart ! But 'tis necessity, 
To which the gods must yield, and I obe 
Mill I redeem it by some glori 



»ey, 
lorious way. [Exeunt . 



SCENE n. 

Enter Phot ik us, Achillas, Septimius, end 

Soldiers, 

Pho. There's no retiring now ; we are broke 
in; 
The deed past hope of pardon. If we prosper, 
Twill be soiled lawful, and we shall give laws 
To these, that now command us : Stop not at 
Or loyalty, or duty ; hold ambition 
To dare, and power to do, gave the first difference 
Between the king and subject. Cesar's motto, 
Aut C*mr eut nihil, each of us must claim, 
And use it as our own. 

Achil. The deed is bloody, 
If we conclude in Ptolom/s death'. 

Pho. Tlie better ; 
The globe of empire must be so manured, 

Sept. Rome, that from Romulus first took her 
name, 
Had her walls watered with a crimson shower, 
Drained from a brother's heart; nor was she 

raised 
To this prodigious height* that overlooks 
Three tuti parts of the eartliy that pay her tribute, 
But by enlarging of her narrow bounds, 
By the sack of neighbour dties> not made hers 
Till they were cemented with the blood of those, 
That did possess them : Cesar, Ptolomy, 
Now I am steeled, to me are empty names, 
Esteemed as Pompey 's was. 

Pho. Well said, Septimius I 
Thou now art right again. 

Achil. But what course take we 
For the princess Cleopatra ? 

Pho. Let her live 
A while, to make us sport ; she shall authorize 
Our undertakings to the ignorant people, 
As if what we do were by her command r 
But, our triumvirate government once confirmed. 
She bears her brother company : That's my pro- 
vince ; 
Leave me to work hen 

Achil. I will uudertake 
For Ptolomy* 

Sept. Cesar shall be my task \ 
And as in Pompey I began a name, 
I'll perfect it in Cesar ! 

Enter above, Cesar, Ptolomy, Achoreu^ 
Apollodorus, Axtony, and Dolauella. 

Ph». r ris resolved then ; 
We'll force our passage. 

Achil. Sec, they do appear, 
As they desired a parley. 

Pho. I am proud yet 
I hate brought them to capitulate. 

Ptol. Now, Photinus r 

Pkb. Now, Ptolomy ? 

Ptol, No addition ? 

Pho. We are equal, 
Though Cesar's name were put into the scale. 



128 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumoht f 



In which our worth is weighed. 

Casar. Presumptuous villain ! 
tTpou what grounds hast thou presumed to raise 
Thy servile hand against the king ? or me. 
That have a greater name ? 

Pho. On those, by which 
Thou didst presume to pass the Rubicon 
Against the laws of Rome ; and, at the name 
Of traitor, smile, as thou didst, when Maroellus, 
The consul, with the senate's full consent, 
Pronounced thee for an enemy to thy country : 
Yet thou went'st on, and thy rebellious cause 
Was crowned with fair success. Why should we 

fear, then ? 
Think on that, Caesar ! 

Qatar. Oh, the gods ! be braved thu* ? 
And be compelled to bear this from a slave, 
That would not brook great Pompey his superior ! 

AchiL Thy glories now have touched the high* 
est point, 
And must descend. 

Pho. Despair, and think we stand 
The champions of Rome, to wreak her wrongs, 
Upon whose liberty thou hast set thy foot. 

Sept. And that the ghosts of all those noble 
Romans, 
That by thy sword fell in this civil war, 
Expect revenge. 

Ant. Darest tliou speak, and remember 
There was a Pompey r 

Pho. There's no hope to escape us : 
If that, against the odds we have upon you, 
You dare come forth and fight, receive the honour 
To di<* like Romans; if ve faint, resolve 
To starve like wretches f I disdain to change 
Another syllable with you. 

Ant* Let us die nobly ; 

[Exeunt Pho* AchiL Sept. 
And rather fall upon each other's sword, 
Than come into these villains' hands. 

Casar. That fortune, 
Which to this hour hath been a friend to Cesar, 
Though for a while she cloathe her brow with 

frowns, 
Will smile again upon me : Who will pay her 
Or sacrifice, or vows, if she forsake 
Her best of works in me ? or suffer him, 
Whom with a strong hand she hath led triumphant 
Through the whole western world, and Rome ac- 
knowledged 
Her sovereign lord, to end ingloriously 
A life admired by all ? The threatened danger 
Must, by a way more horrid, be avoided, 
And I will run the hazard. Fire the palace, 
And the rich magazines, that neighbour it, 
In which the wealth of Egypt is contained ! 
Start not ,' it shall be so ; that while the people 
Labour in quenching the ensuing flames, 
Like Ctesar, with this handful of my friends, 
Through fire, and swords, I force a passage to 
My conquering legions. King, if thou darest, fol- 
low, 



Where Cesar leads; or live, or die, a freemanJ 
If not, stay hese a bondman to thy slave, 
And, dead, be thought unworthy of a grave ! 

SCENE m. 

Enter Septimius. 

Sept. I feel my resolution melts again, 
And that I am not knave alone, but fool, 
In all my purposes. This devil Photiaus 
Employs me as a property, and, grown useless, 
Will shake me off again : He told me so, 
When I killed Pompey ; nor can I hope better, 
When Cesar is dispatched. Services done 
For such as only study their own ends, 
Too great to be rewarded, are returned 
With deadly hate : I learned this principle 
In his own school. Yet still he fools me? well; 
And yet he trusts me : Since I in my nature 
VVas fashioned to be false, wherefore should I, 
That killed my general, and a Roman, one, 
To whom I owed all nourishments of life, 
Be true to an Egyptian ? To save Cesar, 
And turn Photinus' plots on his own head, 
(As it is in my power) redeem my credit, 
And live, to lie, and swear again in fashion, 
Oh, 'twere a master-piece ! Ha ! curse me ! Cassrf 
How has he got off? 

Enter Casar, Ptolomt, Antony, Dolabella, 
Achoreus, Apollodorus, and soldkrt. 

Cesar. The fire has took, 
And shews the city like a second Troy ; 
The navy too is scorched ; the people greedy . 
To save their wealth and houses, while their 

soldiers 
Make spoil of all : Only Achillas' troops 
Make good their guard'} break through them, w* 

are safe. 
Ill lead you like a thunder-bolt ! 

Sept. Stay, Cesar. 

Caesar. Who's this? the .dog Septimius? 

Ant. Cut his throats 

DoL You barked but now ; fawn you so soon? 

Sept. Oh, hear me ! 
What I'll deliver is for Cesar's safety, 
For all your good* 

Ant. Good from a mouth like thine, 
That never belched but blasphemy and 
On festival days ! 

Sept. I am an altered man, 
Altered indeed ; and I will give yon cause 
To say I am a Roman. 

DoL Rogue, I grant thee. 

Sept. Trust me, 111 make die 
and easy, 
For your escape. 

Ant, I'll trust the devil sooner, 
And make a safer bargain, 

Sept. I am trusted . 
With til Photiaus' 



Fletcher.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



129 



Ant. Here's no doubt then, 
Thou mlt be false. 
Sept. Still to b<? true to you. 
DoL And very likely. 
Ct$ar. Be bnef ; the means ? 
Sept. Thus, Caesar : 
To me alone, but bound by terrible oaths 
Not to discover it, he hath revealed 
A dismal vault, whose dreadful mouth does open 
A mile beyond the city : In this cave 
Lie but two hours concealed. 

Ant. If you believe him, 
Hell bury us alive. 
Dot. Ill fly in the air first 
Sept. Then in the dead of night, I'll bring you 
back 
Into a private room, where you shall find 
Photons, and Achillas, and the rest 
Of their commanders, close at counsel. 

Ccmt. Good; 
What follows? 

Sept. Fail me fairly on their throats : 
Their heads cut off and shorn, the multitude ' 
Will easily disperse. 

Ccair. Oh, devil ! away with him ! 
Nor true to friend nor enemy ? Caesar scorns 
To nod bis safety, or revenge his wrongs, 
So base a way ; or owe the means of life 
To loch a leprous traitor ! I have towered 
For victory, tike a falcon in the clouds, 
Not digged for it, like a mole. Our swords, and 

cause, 
Make way for us : And that it may appear 
We took a noble course, and hate base treason, 
Some soldiers, that would merit Cesar's favour, 
Hang him on yonder turret, and then follow 
The lane, this sword makes for you. [Exit. 

I Sold, Here is a belt; 
Though I die for it, 111 use it. 

3 Sold, Tis too good 
To truss a cur in. 
Sept. Save me ! here is gold. 
1 Sold. If Rome 
Were offered for thy ransom, it could not help 
thee. 
1 Sold. Goad htm on with thy sword ! 
Thou dost deserve a worser end ; and may 
All such conclude so, that their friends betray ! 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. 

Enter severally, Arsinoe, Eros, and Cleopatra. 

Ars. We are lost ! 

Eros. Undone ! 

An- Confusion, fire and swords, 
And fury in the soldiers' face more horrid, 
Circle us round ! 

Eros. The king's command they laugh at, 
And jeer at Caesar's threats. 

Art. My brother seized on 
Bv the Roman, as thought guilty of the tumult, 

Vol. I. 



And forced to bear him company, as marked out 
For his protection, or revenge. 

Erot. They have broke 
Into my cabinet ; my trunks are ransacked. 

Ars. I've lost my jewels too; but that's the 
least: 
The barbarous rascals, against all humanity 
Or. sense of pity, have killed my little dog, 
And broke my monkey's chain. 

Eros. They rifled me : 
But that I could endure, and tire them too, 
Would they proceed no further. 

Ars. Oh, my sister ! 

Eros. My queen, ray mistress ! 

Ars. Can you stand unmoved, when 
The earthquake of rebellion shakes the city, 
And the court trembles ? 

Cleo. Yes, Arsinoe, 
And with a masculine constancy deride 
Fortune's worst malice, as a servant to 
My virtues, not a mistress : Then we forsake 
The strong fort of ourselves, when we once yield, 
Or shrink at her assaults ; I am still myself, 
And though. disrobed of sovereignty, and ravished 
Of ceremonious duty, that attends it ; 
Nay, grant they had slaved my body, my free 

mind, 
like to the palm-tree walling fruitful Nile, 
Shall grow up straighter, and enlarge itself, 
Spite of the envious weight, that loads it with. 
Think of thy birth, Arsinoe ; common burdens 
Fit common shoulders : Teach the multitude, 
By suffering nobly what they fear to touch at, 
The greatness of thy mind does soar a pitch, 
Their dim eyes, darkened by their narrow souls, 
Cannot arrive at. 

Ars. I am new created, 
And owe tins second being to you, best sister ; 
For now I feel you have infused into me 
Part of vour fortitude. 

Eros. I still am fearful : 
I dare not tell a lie : You, that were born 
Daughters and sisters unto kings, may nourish 
Great draughts, which I, that am your humble 

handmaid, 
Must not presume to rival. 

Cleo. Yet, my Eros, 
Though thou hast profited nothing by observing 
The whole course of my life, learn in my death, 
Though not to equal, yet to imitate, 
Thy fearless mistress. 

Enter Piiotinus. 

Eros. Oh, a man in arms ! 
His weapon drawn too ! 

Cleo. Though upon the point 
Death sat, I'll meet it, and out-dare the danger. 

PAo. Keep the watch strong; and guard the 
passage sure, 
That leads into the sea. 

Cleo. What sea of rudeness 
Breaks in upon us ? or what subject's breath, 

la 



ISO 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[BeAJJKOST 4 



Dare raise a storm, when we command a calm ? 
Are duty and obedience fled to heaven, 
And, in their room, ambition and pride 
Sent into Egypt ? That face sneaks thee Photinu*, 
A thing, thy mother brought into the world 
My brothers and my slave : But thy behaviour, 
Opposed to that, an insolent inteuder 
Upon that sovereignty, thou shouldat bow to J 
If in the gulph of base ingratitude, 
All loyalty to Ptolomy the king 
Be swallowed up, remember .who I am, 
Whose daughter, and whose sister ; or, suppose 
That is forgot too, let the name of Caesar 
(Which nations quake at) stop thy desperate mad- 
ness 
From running headlong on to thy confusion. 
Throw from thee quickly those rebellious arms, 
And let me read submission in thine eyes; 
Thy wrongs to us we will not only pardon, 
But be a ready advocate to plead for thee 
To Caesar and my brother. 
Pho. Plead my pardon ! 
To you I bow ; but scorn as much to stoop thus 
To Ptolomy, to Caesar, nay the gods, 
As to put off the figure of a man, 
And change my essence with a sensual beast : 
All my designs, my counsels, and dark ends, 
Were aimed to purchase you. 

Cleo. How durst thou, being 
The scorn of baseness, nourish such a thought ! 
Pho. They, that have power, are royal ; and 
those base, 
That live at the devotion of another. 
What birth gave Ptolomy, or fortune Caesar, 
By engines fashioned in this Protean anvil, 
1 nave made mine ; and only stoop at you, 
Whom I would still preserve free, to command 

me. 
For Caesar's frowns, they are below my thoughts ; 
And, but in these fair eyes I still have read 
The story of a monarchy supreme, 
To which all hearts, with mine, gladly pay tri- 
bute, 
Photinus* name had long since been as great 
As Ptolomy's e'er was, or Caesar's is. 
This made me, as a weaker tie, to unloose 
The knot of loyalty, that chained my freedom, 
And slight the fear, that Caesar's threats might 



cause 



That I and they might see no sun appear, 
But Cleopatra, in the Egyptian sphere. 

Cleo. Oh, giant-like ambition, married to 
Cymerian darkness ! Inconsiderate fool ? 
Can there be gods, and hear this, and no thunder 
Ram thee into the earth ! 

Pho. They are asleep, 
And cannot hear thee : Or, with open eyes 
Did Jove look on us, I would laugh and swear 
That his artillery is cloyed by me : 
.Or, if that they have power to hurt, his bolts 
Are in my hand. 

Cleo. Most impious I 



Pho. I wil tame 
That haughty courage, and make it stoop too. 

Cleo. Never! 
I was born to command, and I will die so. 

Enter Achillas, and Sokficrt, vith the body of 

Ptolemy. 

Pho. The king dead? This is a fair entrance to 
Our future happiness. 

Ars, Oh, dear brother! 

Cleo. Weep not, Arsinoe, (common women do 
so) 
Nor lose a tear for him ; it cannot help him; 
But study to die nobly, 

Pho. Caesar fled? 
Tis deadly aconite to my cold heart ; 
It choaks my vital spirits ! Where was your cue ? 
Did the guards sleep ? 

Achil. He roused them with his sword ; 
(We talk of Mars, but I am sure 'his courage 
Admits of no comparison but itself !) 
And, as inspired by him, his following friends, 
With such a confidence as young eaglets prey, 
Under the large wing of their fiercer dam, 
Brake through our troops, and scattered them, 

He went on, 
But still pursued by us : When, on the sudden, 
He turned his head, and from his eyes flew terror, 
Which struck in us no less fear and amasement, 
Than if we had encountered with the lightning, 
Hurled from Jove's cloudy brow. 

Cleo. Twas like my Caesar ! 

Achil. We fallen back, he made on ; and, a* 
our fear 
Had parted from us with bis dreadful looks, 
Again we followed : But, got near the sea, 
On which his navy anchored, in one hand 
Holding a scroll he had above the waves, 
And in the other grasping fast his sword, 
As it had been a trident forged by Vulcan 
To calm the raging ocean, he made away, 
As if he had been Neptune ; his friends, like 
So many Tritons followed, their bold shouts 
Yielding a chearful music. We showered darts 
Upon them, but in vain ; they reached their ships : 
And in their safety we are sunk ; for Caesar 
Prepares for war, 

Pho. How fell the king ? 

Achil. Unable 
To follow Caesar, he was trod to death 
By the pursuers, and with him the priest 
Of Isis, good Achoreus. 

Art. May the earth 
lie gently on their ashes ! 

Pho. I feel now, 
That there are powers above us'; and that 'tis not 
Within the searching policies of man 
To alter their decrees. 

Cleq. I laugh at thee ! 
Where are thy threats now, fool ? thy scofis and 

scorns 
Against the gods ? I see calamity 



1 



Fletcheb.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



tfSl 



[Shout within. 



Is the bat mistress of religion, 
And an convert an atheist. 

Ph. Oh, they come ! 
Mountains fall on me ! Oh, for him to die, 
Hist placed his heaven on earth, is an assurance 
Of his descent to hell ! Where shall I hide me ? 
The greatest daring to a man dishonest, 
Is bat a bastard courage, ever fainting. [Exit. 

Enter Cssar, Sceva, Antony, and Dola- 

BELLA. 

Cctsr. Look on your Caesar ! banish fear, my 
fairest; 
Yoo now are safe ! 

See. By Venns, not a kiss 
Till our work be done ! The traitors once dis- 
patched, 
To it, sad well cry aim. 
GcHT. I will be speedy. 

[Jtxeunt Cator and train. 
Cleo. Farewell again! — Arsinoe! How sow, 
Eros? 
Ever faint-hearted? 

Erst. Bat that I am assured 
Your excellency can command the general, 
I /ear the soldiers. 



Cleo. He is all honour; 
Nor do I now repent me of my favours, 
Nor can' I think nature e'er made a woman, 
That in her prime deserved him. 

Enter Cjesar, Sceva, Antony, Dolabella, 
and Soldiers, with the heads. 

Art. He's come back. 

Cesar. Pursue no further; curb the soldiers 9 
fury! 
See, beauteous mistress, their accursed heads, 
That did conspire against us. 
See. Furies plague them ! 
They had too fair an end, to die like soldiers : 
Pompey fell by the sword ; the cross or halter 
I Should have dispatched diem. 

Cesar. All's but death, good Sceva ; 
He therefore satisfied. And now, my dearest, 
Look upon Caesar, as he still appeared, 
A conqueror ! And, this unfortunate king 
Entombed with honour, we'll to Home, where 

C*sar 
Will shew he can give kingdoms ; for the senate, 
f Thy brother dead, shall willingly decree 
The crown of Egypt* that was his, to thee. 

[Exeunt omnes. 




BONDUCA. 



BY 



BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



MEN. 

Caratach, general of the Briton*, cousin to 
Bonduca. 

Nennius, a greet soldier, a British commander, 

Henco, a brave boy, nephew to Caratach. 

Suetonius, general to the Roman army in Bri- 
tain. 

Pen i us, a brave Roman commander, but stub- 
born to the general. 

Junius, a Roman captain, in love with Bondu- 
cds daughter. 

Petillius, another Roman captain. 

jv R u ^ > Roman commanders. 



Regulus,"\ 

as 1 * * J*-*" 

CuRIUS, J 

Judas, a corporal, a cowardly hungry knave. 

Herald. 

Druids. 

Soldiers. 

WOMEN. 

Bonduca, queen of the Iceni, a brave virago. 
Her two daughters, by Prasutegus. 



Scene, — Britain. 



ACT L 



SCENE L 



Enter Bonduca, Daughters, Hengo, Nennius, 

and Soldiers* 

Bond. The hardy Romans? Oh, ye gods of 
Britain^ 
The rust of arms, the blushing shame of soldiers ! 
Are these the men, that conquer by inheritance ? 
The fortune-makers ? these the Julians, 

Enter Caratach. 

That with the sun measure the end of nature, 

Making the world but one Rome, and one Caesar? 

Shame, how they flee ! Caesar's soft soul dwells 
in them ; 

Their mothers got them sleeping, Pleasure nursed 
them; 

Their bodies sweat with sweet oils, love's allure- 
ments, 

Not lusty arms. Dare they send these to seek us, 

These Roman girls ? is Britain grown so wanton ? 

Twice we have beat them, Nennius, scattered them ; 

And through their big-boned Germans, on whose 
pikes 

The honour of their actions sits in triumph, 



Made themes for songs to shame them : And a 

woman, 
A woman beat them, Nennius ; a weak woman, 
A woman, beat these Romans ! 

Car. So it seems ; 
A man would shame to talk so. 

Bond. Who's that? 

Car. I. 

Bond. Cousin, do you grieve my fortunes? 

Car. No, Bonduca ; 
If I grieve, it is the bearing of your fortunes : 
You put too much wind to your sail ; discretion 
And hardy valour are the twins of honour, 
And, nursed together, make a conqueror; 
Divided, but a talker. Tis a truth, 
That Rome has fled before us twice, and routed; 
A truth we ought to crown the gods for, lady, 
And not our tongues ; a truth is none of ours, 
Nor in our ends, more than the noble bearing; 
For then it leaves to be a virtue, lady, 
And we, that have been victors, beat ourselves, 
When we insult upon our honour's subject 

Bond. My valiant cousin, is it foul to say 
What liberty and honour bid us do, 
And what the gods allow us? 



1 



Beaumont 4&J 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



133 



Car. No, Bonduca; 
So what we say exceed not what we do. 
You call the Romans ' fearful, fleeing Romans, 
1 And Roman girls, the lees of tainted pleasures :' 
Does this become a doer ? are they such ? 
Bond. They are no more. 
Cor. Where is your conquest then ? 
Why are your altars crowned with wreaths of 

flowers? 
Tne beasts with gilt horns waiting for the fire ? 
The holy Druides composing songs 
Of everlasting life to victory ? 
Why are these triumphs, lady ? for a May-game ? 
For bunting a poor herd of wretched Romans ? 
Is it no more? Shut up your temples, Britons, 
And let the husbandman redeem his heifers, 
Pot out our holy fires, no timbrel ring, 
Let's home and sleep ; for such great overthrows 
A candle burns too bright a sacrifice, 
A glow-worm's tail too full of flame. Oh, Nen- 

nios, 
Thou hadst a noble uncle, knew a Roman, 
And how to speak him, how to give him weight 
In both his fortunes. 

Bond. By the sods, I think 
Yon doat upon these Romans, Caratach ! 
Car. Witness these wounds, I do ; they were 
fairly given : 
I love an enemy ; I was born a soldier ; 
And he that in the head of his troop defies 



me. 



Beading my manly body with his sword, 
I make a mistress. Yellow-tressed Hymen 
Ne'er tied a longing virgin with more joy, 
Than I am married to that man, that wounds me : 
And are not all these Roman? Ten struck battles 
I sucked these honoured scars from, and all 

Roman; 
Ten years of bitter nights and heavy marches, 
(When many a frozen storm sung through my 

cuirass, 
And made it doubtful, whether that or I 
Were the more stubborn metal) have I wrought 

through, 
And all to try these Romans. Ten times a-night 
I have swam the rivers, when the stars of Rome 
Shot at me as I floated, and the billows 
Tombled their watry ruins on my shoulders, 
Charging; my battered sides with troops of agues; 
And still to try these Romans, whom I found 
(And, if I lie, my wounds be henceforth back- 
ward, 
And be you witness, gods, and all my dangers) 
As ready, and as full of that I brought, 
(Which was not fear, nor flight) as valiant, 
As vigilant, as wise, to do and suffer, 
Ever advanced as forward as the Britons, 
Their sleeps as short, their hopes as high as ours, 
Aj f and as subtle, lady. Tis dishonour, 
And, followed, will be impudence, Bonduca, 
And grow to no belief, to taint these Romans. 
Wan not I seen the Britons 



Bond. What ? 

Car. Disheartened, 
Run, run, Bonduca ! not the quick rack swifter; 
The virgin from the hated ravisher 
Not half so fearful ; not a flight drawn home, 
A round stone from a sling, a lover's wish, 
E'er made that haste, that they have. By the gods, 
I've seen these Britons, that you magnify, 
Run as they would have out-run time, and roar- 

in & 
Basely for mercy roaring ; the light shadows, 

That in a thought scur o'er the fields of corn, 

Halted on crutches to them. 

Bond. Oh, ye powers, 
What scandals do I sufi&r ! 

Car. Yes, Bonduca, 
I've seen thee run too ; and thee, Nennius; 
Yea, run apace, both ; then, when Penius 
(The Roman girl !) cut through your armed carta, 
And drove them headlong on ye, down die hill ; 
Then, when he hunted ye like Britain foxes, 
More by the scent than sight; then did I see 
These valiant and approved men of Britain, 
Like boding owls, creep into tods of ivy, 
And hoot their fears to one another nightly* 

Nen. And what did you then, Caratach? 

Car. I fled too, 
But not so fast; your jewel had been lost then, 
Young Hengo there ; he trasht me, Nennius : 
For, when your fears out-run him, then stept I, 
And in the head of all the Roman fury 
Took him, and, with my tough belt, to my back 
I buckled him ; behind him, my sure shield ; 
And then I followed. If I say I fought 
Five times in bringing off this bud of Britain, 
I lie not, Nennius. • Neither had you heard 
Me speak this, or ever seen the child more, 
But that the son of virtue, Penius, 
Seeing me steer through all these storms of danger, 
My helm still in my hand (my sword), my prow 
Turned to my foe (my face), he cried out nobly, 
* Go, Briton, bear thy lion's whelp off safely ; 
Thy manly sword has ransomed thee; grow strong, 
And let me meet thee once again in arms ; 
Then, if thou standest, thou art mine.' I took his 

offer, 
And here I am to honour him. 

Bond. Oh, cousin, 
From what a flight of honour hast thou checked 

me! 
What wouldst thou make me, Caratach ? 

Car. See, lady, 
The noble use of others in our losses. 
Does diis afflict you ? Had the Romans cried this, 
And, as we have done theirs, sung out these 

fortunes, 
Railed on our base condition, hooted at us, 
Made marks as far as the earth was ours, to 

shew us 
Nothing but sea could. stop our flights, despised 

us, 
And held it equal, whether banquetting 



154 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Bbivhoht fc 



Or beating of the Britons were ntore business, 
It would have galled you. 

Bond. Let me think we conquered. 
Car. Do ; botso think, as we may be conquered ; 
Ano\ where we have found virtue, though in 

those* 
That came to Make us slaves, let's cherish it. 
There's not a Mow we gave, since Julius landed, 
That was of strength and worth, but like records, 
They file to after-ages. Our register 
The Romans are, for noble deeds of honour ; 
And shall we brand their mentions with upbraid- 
ing? 
Bond. No more ; I see myself. Thou hast 
made me, cousin,* 
More tlian my fortunes durst ; for they abused 

me, 
And wound me up so high, I swelled with glory : 
Thy temperance has cured that tympany, 
And given me health again, nay more, discretion. 
Shall we have peace? for now I love these 
Romans.* 
Car. Thy love and hate are both unwise ones, 

lady. 
Band. Your reason? 
Nen. Is not peace the end of arms ? 
Car. rfot where the cause implies a general 
Conquest: 
Had we a difference with some petty isle, 
Or with oar neighbours, lady, for our landmarks, 
The taking m of some rebellious U>f4, 
Or making head against commotions, 
After a amy of blood, peace might be argued ; 
But where we grapple for the ground we live on, 
The liberty we nolo as dear as life, 
The gods we worship, and next those, our ho- 
nours, 
And with those swords* that know no end of battle : 
Those men, beside themselves^ allow no neigh- 
bour; 
Those minds, that where the day is, claim inherit- 
ance, 
And where the sun makes ripe the fruits, their 

harvest, 
And where they march, but measure out more 

ground 
To add to Rome, and here in the bowels on us ; 
It must not be. No, as they are our foes, 
And those, that must be so, untill we tire them, 
Let's use the peace of honour, that's fair dealing, 
But in our hands our swords. That hardy Roman, 
That hopes to graft himself into my stock, 
Must first begin his kindred under-ground, 
And be allied in ashes. 

Band. Caratach, 
As thou hast nobly spoken, shall be done ; 
And Hengo to thy charge I here deliver : 
Hie Romans shall have worthy wars. 

Car. They shall : 
And, tittle sir, when your young bones grow Suf- 
fer, 
And when I see you able in a morning 



To beat a dozen boys, and then to hreakfeit, 
Til tie you to a- sword. 

Hengo. And what then, nade ? 

Car. Then yon mast kill, sir, the next vshttt 
Romany 
That calls you knave. 

Hengo. And mast I kill but one ? 

Car. An- hundred, boy, I hope. 

Hengo. I hope five hundred. 

Car. That's a noble boy ! Come, wormy lady, 
Let us to our several charges, and henceforth 
Allow an enemy both weight and worth. 

[Exeunt 

SCENE IL 

Enter Junius and Pbtillius. 

Pet. What ail'st thou, ma»? dost thevwant 
meat? 

Jan. No. 

Pet. Clothes? 

Jun. Neither. For heaven's lore, leave me ! 

Pet. Drink? 

Jun. You tire me. 

Pet. Come, it is drink ; I know it is drink. 

Jun. Tig no drink. 

Pet. I say, it is drink ; for what affliction 
Can light so heavy on a soldier, 
To dry him up as thou art, but no drink? 
Thou shalt have drink. 

Jun. Prithee, Petillius— — 

Pet. And, by mine honour, much drink, vain** 
drink : 
Never tell me, thou shaft hare drink. I see, 
like a true friend, into thy wants; it is drink; 
And, when I leave thee to a desolation. 
Especially of that dry nature, hang me. 

Jun. Why do you do this to me ? 

Pet. For I see, 
Although your modesty would fain conceal is, 
Which sits as sweetly on a soldier 
As an old side-saddle—- 

Jun. What do you see ? 

Pet. I see as fair as day, that thou wantest 
drink. 
Did I not find thee gaping, like an oyster 
For a new tide ? Thy very thoughts Be bare, 
Like a low ebb ; thy soul, that rid in sack, 
Lies moored for want of liquor. Do but see 
Into thyself; for, by the gods, I do ; 
For all thy body's chapped and cracked like timber, 
For want of moisture : What is it thou wantest 

there, Junius, 
An if it be not drinking ? 

Jun. You have too much of it. 

Pet. No, it shall never be said in oar country, 
Thou died of the chin-cough. Hear, thou nobis 

Roman, 
The son of her that loves a soldier, 
Hear what I promised for thee ! thus I said : * 
Lady, I take thy son to my companion ; 
Lady, I love thy son, thy son lores war, 



FltTCHBR.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



13* 



The war loves danger, danger drink, drink dis- 



vTmob is society and lechery ; 

These two beget commanders : Fear not, lady ; 

nrmsUfiead. 

Jan. Tis a strange thing, Petillius, 
Hat so ridiculous and loose a mirth 
Can muter your affections. 

hL Any Birth, 
And any way, of any subject, Junius, 
Is better than unmanly mustiness. 
What harm is in drink ? in a good wholesome 

wench? 
1 do beseech you, sir, what error? Yet 
It caanot out of my head handsomely, 
Bnt thoo wouldst tain be drunk : come, no more 

fooling; 
we general has new wine, new come over. 

Jam. He must have new acquaintance for it too, 
For I will none, I thank ye. 

A*. 'None, I thank your* 
A short and touchy answer ! ' None, I thank your* 
Yob to pot scorn it, do you ? 
Jun. Gods defend you, sir ! 
I owe him still more honour. 
Pet. « None, I thank you ? 
No oanmaiiy, no drink, no wench, ' I thank youP 
You shall be worse entreated, sir. 

•fca. Petillius, 
As thou art honest, leave me ! 
Pit. « None, I thank you r* 
A modest and a decent resolution, 
And well put on. Yes ; I will leave you, Junius, 
And leave you to the boys, that very shortly 
Shall all salute you, by your new simame, 
Of Junius ' None I thank you. 1 * I would starve 



Kant, drown, despair, deserve the forks, lie open 
To all the dangerous passes of a wench, 
Bound to believe her tears, wed her aches, 
Ere I would own thy follies. I have found you, 
Your lays, and out-leaps, Junius, haunts, and 

* nave viewed yon, and I have found you, by my 

skiH, 
To he a fool of the first head, Junius, 
And I will hunt you -. You are in love, I know it; 
You are an ass, and all the camp shall know it; 
A peevish idle boy, your dame shall know it; 
A wronger of my care, yourself shall know \t. 

Enter Judas and four Soldiers. 

Judas. A bean ? a princely diet, a full banquet, 
To what we compass. 

1 Soli, Fight like hogs for acorns? 

ft. Sold. Venture our lives for pig-nuts ? 

Pet. What ail these rascals ? 

S Sold, If this hold, we are starved. 

Judas. For my part, friends, 
Which is but twenty beans a day (a hard world 
For officers, and men of action f), 
An4 those so dipt by master mouse, and rotten—- 



(For understand them French beans, where the 

fruits 
Ase ripened like the people, in old tubs) 
For mine own part, I say, I am starved already, 
Not worth another bean, consumed to nothing, 
Nothing but flesh and bones left, miserable : 
Now, if this musty provender can prick me 
To honourable matters of atchievement, gentle- 
men, 
Why, there is the point. 

4 Sold. Fll fight no more. 

Pet. You'll hang then ! 
A sovereign help for hunger. Ye eating rascals, 
Whose gods are beef and brewis ! whose brave 

angers 
Do execution upon these, and ohibbals ! 
Ye dog's heads m the porridge-pot ! ye fight no 

more? 
Does Rome depend upon your resolution 
For eating mouldy pye-crust ? 

3 Sold. Would we had it ! 

Judas. I may do service, captain. 

Pet. In a fish-market. 
You, corporal Curry-comb, what will your fighting 
Profit the commonwealth ? do you hope to tri- 
umph? 
Or dare your vamping valour, goodman Cobler, 
Clap a new sole to the kingdom? 'Sdeath, ye dog- 
whelps, 
You fight, or not fight? 

Judas. Captain! 

Pet. Out, ye flesh-flies ! 
Nothing but noise and nastiness ! 

Judas. Give us meat, 
Whereby we may do. 

Pet. Whereby bangs your valour ? 

Judas. Good nits afford good blows. 

Pet. A good position ; 
How long is it smce thou eatest last? Wipe thy 

mouth, 
And then tell truth. 

Judas. I have not eat to the purpos e 

Per. 'To the purpose !* what is that J half a 
cow and garlic? 
Ye rogues, my company eat turf, and talk not ; ' 
Timber they can digest, and fight upon it ; 
Old mats, and mud with spoons, rare meats. 

Your shoes, slaves ; 
Dare ye cry out for hunger, and those extant? 
Suck your sword-hilts, ye slaves; if ye be valiant, 
Honour will make them marchpane. 'To the 

purpose r* 
A grievous penance ! Dost thou see that gentle- 
man, 
That melancholy monsieur ! 

Jun. Pray you, Petillius ! 

Pet. He has not eat these three weeks, 

% Sold. He has drunk the more then. 

3 Sold. And that is all one. 

Pet. Nor drunk nor slept these two months. 

Judas. Captain, we do beseech you, as poor 
soldiers, 



I3ff 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Beaumont 4 



Men, that hare seen good days, whose mortal sto- 
machs 

May sometime feel afflictions [To Junius. 

Jun. This, Petillius, 
Is not so nobly done. 

Pet. Tis common profit ; 
Urge him to the point, hell find yon ont a food, 
That needs no teeth nor stomach ; a strange fur- 

mity 
Will feed you up as fat as hens in the fore- 
heads, 
And make ye fight like fichoks ; to him. 
Judas. Captain— 

Jun. Do you long to have your throats cut ? 
Pe t. See what metal 
It makes in him : Two meals more of this me* 

lancholy, 
And there lies Caratach. 
Judas* We do beseech you 

2 Sold. Humbly beseech your valour 

Jun. Am I only 

Become your sport, Petillius ? 

Judas. But to render 
Jn way of general good, in preservation 

Jun. Out of my thoughts, ye slaves ! 

4 Sold. Or rather pity 

3 Sold. Your warlike remedy against the maw- 

worms. 
Judas. Or notable receipt to live by nothing. 
Pet. Out with your table-books ! 
Jun. Is this true friendship ? 
And must Iny killing griefs make other's May- 
games? 
Stand from my sword's point, slaves ! your poor 

starved spirits 
Can make me no oblations ; else, oh, love, 
Thou proudly-blind destruction! I woidd send 

thee 
Whole hctacombs of hearts, to bleed my sor- 
rows. 
Judas. Alas, he lives by love, sir. [Exit Junius. 
Pet. So he does, sir ; 
And cannot you do so too ? All my company 
Are now in love ; ne'er think of meat, nor talk 
Of what provant is : Ay m€s ! and hearty hey hoes ! 
Are sallads fit for soldiers. Live by meat ? 
By larding up your bodies P 'tis lewd, and lazy, 
And shews ye merely mortal, dull, and drives ye 
To fight like camels, with baskets at your noses. 
Get ye in love ! handsomely 
Fall but in love now, as ye see example, 
And follow it but with all your thoughts, proba- 

tuniy 
There is so much charge saved, and your hunger's 
ended. [Drum afar off". 

Away ! I hear the general. Get ye in love all/ 
Up to the ears in love, that I may hear 
No more of these rude murmurings; and dis- 
creetly 
Carry your stomachs, or I prophesy 
A pickled rope will choke ye. Jog, and talk 
not ! [Exeunt. 

2 



SCENE m. 



Enter Suetonius, Demetrius, Decius, drum 

and colours. 

Suet. Demetrius, is the messenger dispatched 
To Penius, to command him to bring up 
The Volans regiment? 

Dent. He is there by this time. 

Suet. And are the horse well viewed, we brought 
from Mona ? 

Dec The troops are full and lusty. 

Suet. Good Petillius, 
Look to those eating rogues, that bawl for vic- 
tuals, 
And stop their throats a day or two -. Provision 
Waits but the wind to reach us. 

Pet. Sir, already 
I have been tampering with their stomachs, whict 

I find 
As deaf as adders to delays: Your clemency 
Hath made their murmurs, mutinies ; nay rebel- 
lions ; 
Now, an they want but mustard, they are in 

uproars ! 
No oil but Candy, Lusitanian figs, 
And wine from Lesbos, now can satisfy them ; 
The British waters are grown dull and muddy, 
The fruit disgustful ; Orontes must be sought for, 
And apples from the happy isles ; the truth is, 
They are more curious now, in having nothing, 
Than if the sea and land turned up their trea- 
sures. 
This lost the colonics, and gave Bonduca 
(With shame we must record it) time and strength 
To look into our fortunes ; great discretion 
To follow offered victory ; and last, full pride 
To brave us to our teeth, and scorn our ruins. 

Suet. Nay, chide not, good Petillius ! I confen 
My will to conquer Mona, and long stay 
To execute that will, let in these losses : 
All shall be right again, and as a pine 
Rent from Oeta by a sweeping tempest, 
Jointed again, and made a mast, defies 
Those angry winds, that split him ; so will I, 
Pieced to my never-failing strength and fortune, 
Steer through these swelling dangers, plow their 

prides up, 
And bear like thunder through their loudest tent 

pests. 
They keep the field still ? 

Dem. Confident and full. 

Pet. In such a number, one would swear they 
grew: 
The hills are wooded with their partizans, . 
And all the vallies overgrown with darts, 
As moors are with rank rushes; no ground 

left us 
To charge upon, no room to strike. Say fortune 
And our endeavours bring us into them, 
They are so infinite, so ever-springing, 
We shall be killed with killing; of desper** 
women, 



Fletcher.} 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



137 



Tint neither fear or shame e'er found, the devil 
Has rallied amongst them multitudes ; say the 

men fail, 
Therli poison us with their petticoats ; say they fail, 
The/nave priests enough to pray us into nothing. 
Suet. These are imaginations, dreams of nothing ; 

The un, that doubts or fears >• 

Bee. I am free of both. 
Den. The self-same I. 
Pet. And I as free as any ; 
As careless of my flesh, of that we call life, 
So I may lose it nobly, as indifferent 
A$ if it were my diet. Yet, noble general, 
It was a wisdom learned from you, I learned it, 
And worthy of a soldier's care, most worthy, 
To weigh with most deliberate circumstance 
The ends of accidents, above their o.flers ; 
How to go on and get; to save a Roman, 
Whose one life is more worth in way of .doing, 
Than millions of these painted wasps; how, view- 
To find advantage out ; how, found, to follow it 
With counsel and discretion, lest mere fortune 
Should claim the victory. 

Saet. Th true, Petilhus, 
And worthily remembered : The rule is certain, 
Tbeir uses no less excellent ; but where time 
Cots off occasions, danger, time and all 
Tend to a present peril, 'tis required 
Our swords and manhoods be nest counsellors, 
Oar expeditions, precedents. To win is nothing, 
Where Reason, Time, and Counsel are our 

camp-masters- 
Bat mere to bear the field, then to be conquerors, 
Where pale destruction takes us, takes us beaten, 
In wants and mutinies, ourselves but hand fulls, 
And to ourselves our own fears, needs a new way, 
A sudden and a desperate execution : 
Here, how to save, is loss ; to be wise, dangerous ; 
Only a present well-united strength, 
And minds made up for all attempts, dispatch it : 
Disputing and delay here cool the courage ; 
Necessity gives time for doubts ; (things infinite, 
According to the spirit they are preached to :) 
Rewards Eke them, and names for after-ages. 
Most steel the soldier, his own shame help to 

arm him: 
And having forced his spirit, ere he cools, 
fling mm upon his enemies ; sudden and swift, 
like tigers amongst foxes, we must fight for it : 
Fury must be our fortune ; shame, we have lost, 
Spurs ever in our sides to prick us forward : 
fhre is no other wisdom nor discretion 



Due to this day of ruin, but destruction ; 
The soldier's order first, and then his anger. 

Dem. No doubt they dare redeem all. 

Suet. Then no doubt 
The day must needs be ours. That the proud 

woman 
Is infinite in number better likes me, 
Than if we dealt with squadrons ; half her army 
Shall choke themselves, their own swords dig their 

graves. 
HI tell ye all my fears ; one single valour. 
The virtues of the valiant Caratach, 
More doubts me than all Britain : He's a soldier 
So- forged out, and so tempered for great fortunes, 
So much man thrust into him, so old in dangers, 
So fortunate in all attempts, that his mere name 
Fights in a thousand men, himself in millions, 
To make him Roman : But no more. Pet^lliua, 
How stands your charge? 

Pet. Ready for all employments, 
To be commanded too, sir. 

Suet. Tis well governed ; 
To-morrow we'll draw out, and view the cohorts: 
In the mean time, all apply their offices. 
Where's Junius ? 

Per. In his cabin, sick of the mumps, sir. 

Siiet. How ? 

Pet. In love, indeed in love, most lamentably 
loving, 
To the tune of Queen Dido. 

Dec. Alas, poor gentleman ! 

Suet. Twill make him fight the nobler. . With 
what lady ? 
HI be a spokesman for him. 

Pet. Youll scant speed, sir. 

Suet. Who is it? 

Pet. The devil's dam, Bonduca's daughter, 
Her youngest, cracked in the ring. 

Suet. I'm sorry for him : 
But sure his own discretion will reclaim him ; 
He must deserve our anger else. Good captain*, 
Apply yourselves in all trie pleasing forms 
Ye can, unto' the soldiers ; nre thetr spirits, 
And set them fit to run this action; 
Mine own provisions shall he shared amongst 

them, 
'Till more come in ; tell them, if now they con- 
quer, 
The fat of all the kingdom lies before them. 
Their shames forgot, their honours infinite, 
And want for ever banished. Two days hence, 
Our fortunes, and our swords, and gods be for us! 

[Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE t. 

Enter Ptvixjs, Regit l us, Macer, andDnvsivs. 

Pen. I must come ? 

Macer. So the general commands, sir. 

Vol. I. 



Pen. I must bring up my regiment ? 
Macer. Believe, sir, 
I bring no lie. 

Pen. But, did he say I must come I 
Macer, So delivered. 

M" 



*38 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



(BBMJHOftrfc 



Pen. How feng is it, Regular fflrce ] 
mamted 
In Britain here f 

Reg. About five years, great Penius. 

Pen. The general, some five months ! Are all 
my actions 
So poor and lost, my services s© barren, 
That I'm remembered in no nobler language 
Bat must crime up? 

Macer. I do beseech you, sir, 
Weigh but the time's estate. 

Pen. Yes, good lieutenant, 
T do, and his that sways it. Must come up? 
Am I tamed bare centurion ? Jfcfasf, and shaft, 
Fit embassies to court my honour ? 

Macer. Sir- 

Pen. Set me to lead a handful of my men 
Against an hundred thousand barbarous slaves, 
That have marched name by name with Rome's 

best doers? 
Serve them up some other meat; IH bring no 

food 
To stop the jaws of all those hungry wolves ; 
My regiment's mine own. 1 must, my language ? 

Enter Cuaivs. 

Cur. Penius, where lies the host ? 

Pen. Where fate may find them. 

Cur. Are they ingirt ? 

Pen. The battle's lost 

Car. So soon ? 

Pen. No; bat 'tis tost, because it must be won ; 
The Britons must be victors. Whoever saw 
A troop of bloody vultures hovering 
About a few corrupted carcasses, 
Let him behold the silly Roman host, 
Girded with millions of fierce Britain's swains, 
With deaths as many as tliey have had hopes ; ' 
And then go thither, he that loves Ins shame ! 
I scorn my life, yet dare not lose my- name. 

Cur. Do not jou hold it a most famous end, 
When both our names and lives are sacrificed 
For Rome's encreasc ? 

Pen. Ye&> Curtus ; but mark this too : 
What glory is there, or what lasting fame 
Can be to Rome or us, what full example, 
When one is smothered with a multitude, 
And crowded in amongst a nameless press? 
Honour pit out of flint, and on their heads 
Whose virtues, like the sun, exhaled all vapours, 
Must not be lost in mists and fogs of people, 
Noteless, and out of name, both rude and naked :: 
Nor can Rome task us with impossibilities, 
Or bid us fight against a flood ; we serve her, 
That she may proudly say she has good soldiers, 
Not slaves to choke all hazards. Who but fools, 
That make no difference betwixt certain dying, 
And dying well, would fling their fames and for- 
tunes 
Into this Britain gulf, this quicksand nrin r 
That, sinking, swaHows us ? what noble hand 
flan find a subject fit for Wood there ? or what 
sword 



Room for Ins execution ? what air to teal us, 
Bat poMoned with then? viastmg wains an 

curses, 
Where We lie buried quick above the ground, . 
And are with labouring sweat, and breatUess 

Killed l&e to staves, and carmotMigrin? . 
Drus. Penius, mark antient wars, and know, 
that then 
A captain weighed an hundred thousand num. 
Pen. Drusius, mark antient wisdom, and yWB 
find then, 
He gave the overthrow, that saved ms men. 
1 must not go. 

Meg. The soldiers are desirous, 
Their eagles aH drawn out, sir. 

Pen. Who drew up? Regurus? 
Ila ? speak ! did yon ? whose bold will durst st- 

temattmV? 
Drawn out ? why, who commanda, sir? oil whose 

warrant 
Durst they advance? 

Keg. I keep mine own obemence. 
Drus, lis like the general cause, their love of 
honour, 
Relieving of their wants— ^- 

JteTWont m, knowledge? 
Am I no more ? my place but at their pleasures? 
Come, who did this ? 

JjruM. By near en, sir, I ant ignorant. 

l4"fc)* tyftl'B wafffni) nkew enter S n a t t n^ 
vtth drum and colours. 
Pen. What ! am I g?own a shadow ?—Haii! 
tney iiiarcn. 
Hi know, and will be myself. Stand ! Disobe- 
dience? 
He, mat advances one foot rngher, dres for tL 
Run through the regiment, upon your duties, 
And charge them, on command, beat back again; 
By heaven, Pll tithe then* all else ! 
Reg. WeH do our best. [tie. Bras, and Rtg. 
Pen. Back ! cease your bawling drums there I 
nibeat the tubs about Jour brains dse. Back! 
Do I speak with less fear than thunder to ye? 
Must I stand to beseech ye? Hottye, home ¥~-Ha! 
D'ye stare upon me? Arc those nnmisi moused* 
Those honest valiant tempers I was proud 
To be- a fellow to, those great discretions 
Made your names feared and honoured, turned 

towUdfires? 
Oh, gods, to disobedience T Command, farewell . 
And ye be witness with me, all things sacred, 
I have no share in these mens* shames f March, 

soldiers, 
And seek your own sad ruins; your old Penius 
Dares not behold your murders. 

1 Sold, Captain ! 

2 Sold. Captain-! 

3 SoitL Dear, honoured captain. ! 
Pen. Too, Coo dear-loved soldiers* 

Which made ye weary of me, and heaven yet 

knows, 
Though in your mutinies! I dare not hate you ; 






Fluour,] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



159 



Tab mown win*! ^fi^ yaw long exnerieiice 
Should dow know how to rule yearsnives ; I 

wrougye, 
la wisoingye to save your Uvea and credits, 
To keep your necks whale from the axe hangs 

o'erye: 
Alas, I modi dishonoured je; go* seek the Bri- 
tons, 
And say ye come to glut their sacrifices; 
Bat 4* art say i sent ye. What re have been, 
HawesttMent ia all parts, good, and governed, 
If only left of my command, for story; 
What sow ye are, for pity, $ ace ye weU ! 

Enter Drvstub amf JUoultts. 

Drat. Oh, turn again, great Penh*? ! tee the 
soldier 
In aD pointB apt for duty. 

Mq. See his sorrow 
For ax disoeedience* which he says was haste, 
And haste, he thought, to please you with. See, 



The toughness of his courage turned to water ; 
See how his manly heart melts. 

Pea. Go; beat homeward ; 
There Jearn to eat your little with ebedienoe; 
And h easefbrth strive to do as J direct y*. 

Macer. My answer, sir. [Exeunt taldier*. 

Pen. Tell the great general, 
Mjr conpafues are no faggots to all breaches; 
Myself no man that must, or thall, can carry : 
Ed bim be wise* apd where he is, he's safe then; 
And when he finds out possibilities, 
He may command one. Commend me to the cap- 



«- 



Jfecer. All this I shall deliver. 

Pen. Farewell, Macer ! [Exit. 

Cur. Pray gods this breed no mischief! 

Bag. It must needs, 
If stoat Suetonius win; for then his anger, 
Besides the soldiers 9 loss of due and honour, 
Win break together on him. 

Aw. He's a brave fellow ; 
And bat a little hide his haughtiness, 
(Which is but sometimes neither, on some causes) 
He shews the worthiest Roman this day living. 

Car. I shall endeavour. 
rVty for oar fortunes, gentlemen ; if we faU, 
Jpn one mreweki serves for a funeral. 

e sharp our swords* and steel our 



Reg. We dare, •las, hot cannot fight our parts. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 

Enter Jroros, Pcttllius, and a Herald. 

Pet. Let him go on. Stay ; now he talks. 
Jan. Why, 
why shoold I love mine eaemj ? what's beauty f 



Of what strange viofcaoe, that, like the plague, 
it work* upon our spirits ? Blind they feign him ; 
Fm sure, I find it so 

Pet. A dog shall lead yen* 

Jun. His fond affections hlindei 

Pet. Hold yon there still? 

Jun. It takes away my sU 

Pet. Alas, poor c&oktn I 

Jans, My company eaatent* ahnest my fa- 

PH. Tea, and jour weight Sao, if you fellow it 
Jan. Tis sure the plague, for no man dare 
come near me 
Without an antidote; 'tis tot wors e, hell.—- 
Pet Tboa'rt damned watfe* redemption 

then. 
Jan. The way to it 
Strewed with fair wes te rn smiles* and April 

blushes, 
led bj the brightest constellations; eyes, 
And sweet proportions, eawying heaven; but from 

thence 
No way to guide, no. path, no wisdom brings ns. 
Pet. Yes, a smart water, Junius; 
Jun. Do I fool ? 
Know all this* and fool stall f Do I know further, 
That, when we have enjoyed oar ends* we lose 

thfiPn 
And all our appetites are bat as dreams 
We laugh at in our ages ?- 



and yet know no- 



Ptt. Sweet philosopher ! 

Jun. Do I know on still, 
thing? Mercy, gods 1 
Why am I thus ridiculous ? 

Pet. Motley on thee ! 
Thou art an arrant ass. 

Jun. Can red and white, 
An eye, a nose, a cheek?  

Pet. But one cheek, Junius? 
An half-faced mistress i 

Jun. With a little trim* 
That wanton fools call fashion* thus abuse ma ? 
Take me beyond ay reason? Why should not I 
Doat on my horse well trapt, my sword well 

hatched? 
They are as handsaw dungs, to me more useful, 
And possible to rule too. Did I but love, 
Yet 'tavern excusable, my youth would bear it ; 
But to love there, and that no time can give me, 
Mine honour dare not ask (she has been ravished), 
My nature must not know (she hates our nation). 
Thus to dispose my spirit ! 

Pit* Ste£ a tittle; he will declaim again. 

Jun. I will not love! lam a man, have reason, 
Ami I will nee it; Til no more tormenting, 
Nor whining for a wench; there are a thou- 
sand-- — 

Pet. Hold thee there* boy ! 

Jam. A thousand will entreat me. 

Pet. Ten thousand, Junius. 

Jun. I am young and lusty, 
| And to my fashion valiant. I will be man again* 



140 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont k 



Pet. Now mark the working ! . 
The devil and the spirit tug for it: Twenty pound 
Upon the devil's head ! 
Jun. I must be wretched ! 
Pet . I knew I'd won. 
Jun. Nor have I so much power 
To shun my fortune. 

Pet. I will hunt thy fortune 
With ail the shapes imagination breeds, [Music. 
But I will fright thy devil. Stay, he sings now. 
[Song, by Junius, and Petillius after khn, in 
mockage. 
Jun. Must I be thus abused ? 
Pet. Yes, marry must you. 
Let's follow him close : Oh, there he is ; now read 
it. 

Herald [reading]. a It is the general's com- 
mand, that all sick persons, old and unable, re- 
tire within the trenches ; he, that fears, has li- 
berty to leave the field : Fools, boys, and cowards 
must not come near the regiments, for fear of 
their infections ; especially those cowards, they 
call lovers." 
Jun. Ha? 
Pet. Read on. 

Herald [Heading]. **If any common soldier 
love an enemy, he's whipped and made a slave : 
If any captain, cast, with loss of honours, flung 
out of the army, and made unable ever after to 
bear the name of a soldier." 

Jun. The pox consume ye all, rogues ! [Exit. 
Pet. Let this work ; 
lie has something now to chew upon.* He's 

gone; 
Come, shake no more. 

Herald. Well, sir, you may command me, 
But not to do the like again tor Europe ; 
I would have given my life for a bent two-pence. 
If I e'er read to lovers, whilst I live, again, 

Or come within their confines 

Pet. There's your payment, 
And keep this private. 

Herald. I am schooled for talking. [Exit. 

Enter Demetrius. 

Pet. How now, Demetrius? arc we drawn? 
Dem. Tis doing ; 
. Your company stands fair. But pray you, where's 
Junius ? 
Half his command are wanting, with some forty, 
That Dccius leads. 

Pet. Hunting for victuals. 
Upon my life, free-booting rogues'! their stomachs 
Are, like a widow's, never satisfied. 

Dem, I wonder how they dare stir, knowing 
the enemy 
Master of all the country. 
Pet. Resolute hungers 
Know neither fears nor faiths ; they tread on lad- 
ders, 
Ropes, gallows, and overdo all dangers. 
Dem. They may be hanged though. 



Pet. There's their joyful supper. 
And no doubt they are at It 

Dem. But, for heaven's sake, 
How does young Junius ? 

Pet. Drawing on, poor gentleman. 
Bern. What, to his end ? 
Pet. To the end of all ftesh, woman. 
Dem. This love has made him a stout soldier. 
Pet. Oh, a great one, 
Fit to command young goslings. But what news J 
Dem. I think the messenger's come back from 
Penius 
By this time ; let's go know. 

Pet. What will you say now 
If he deny to come, and take exceptions 
At some half syllable, or sound delivered ' 
With an ill accent, or some style left out ? 
Dem. I cannot think he dare. 
Pet. He dare speak treason, 
Dare say what no man dares believe, dares 

do- 
But that's all one : I'll lay you my black armour 
To twenty crowns, he comes hot. 
Dem. £)one. 
Pet. You'll pay ? 
Dem* I will; 

Pet. Then keep thine old use, Penius ! 
Be stubborn and vainglorious, and I thank thee. 
Come, let's go pray for six hours ; most of us 
1 fear will trouble heaven no more : Two good 

blows 
Struck home at two commanders of the Britons, 
And my part's done. 

Dem. I do not think of dying. 
Pet. Tis possible we may live; But, Demetrius, 
With what strange legs, and arms, and eyes, and 

noses, w 

Let carpenters and copper-smiths consider. 
If I can keep my heart whole, and my windpipe, 

That I may drink yet like a soldier^- 

Dem. Come, lct?s have better thoughts; mine's 

on your armour. 
Pet. Mine's in your purse, sir; let's go try the 



wager 



I 



SCENE III. 



[Exeunti 



Enter Jun as and his four companions (kalteit 
about their necks) j Bon Due a, her daughter/^ 
and Nevsivs following. 

Bond. Come, hang them presently. 
Ncn. What made your rogueships 
Harrying for victuals here? Are we yoiir friends? 
Or do you come for spies ? Tell me directly, 
Would you not willingly be hanged now ? Do 
not-ye long for it ? 
Judas. What say ye? shall we hang in this 
vein ? Hang we must, 
. And 'tis as good to dispatch it merrily. 

1 Sold. Any way, 
' So it be handsome. - * 

8 Sold. I had as lieve 'twere toothsome too : 
Bat all agree, and 111 not stick out, boy?. 



FtlTCHEt.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



141 



4 SdL Let os hang pleasantly. 
Jute. Then pleasantly be it : 
Captain, the truth is, we had as lieve hang 
With meat in our mouths, as ask your pardon 
empty. 
Bond. These are brave hungers. 
What say you to a leg of beef now, sirrah ? 
Jades. Bring me acquainted with it, and 111 

tell ye. 
Bond. Torment them, wenches, (I mast back) 
then hang them. [Exit. 

Jkdas. We humbly thank your Grace ! 

1 Dough. The rogues laugh at us. 

2 Deugk. These are the merry Romans, the 

brave madcaps ^ 
Teten to one well cool your resolutions. 
Bring oat the whips. 

Judas. Would your good ladyships 
Woold exercise them too ! 
. 4 Sold. Surely, ladies, 
Well shew you a strange patience. 

Nen. Hang them, rascals ! 
They'll talk thus on the wheel 

'Enter Carat AC*. 

Cur. Now, what's the matter? 
What are these fellows ? what's the crime com- 
mitted, 
That they wear necklaces ? 

Nen. They are lioman rogues. 
Taken a-foragins. 
Cor. Is that all, Nennius ? 
Judas. 'Would I were fairly hanged 1 This is 
the devil, 
The kill-cow Caratach. 
Cor. And you would hang them ? 
Nat. Are they not enemies ? 
1 Damgh. Are they not our tormentors ? 
Cur. Tormentors f flea-traps ! 
Flack offyour halters, fellows 
Jfc*. Take heed, Caratach; 
Taiat not yoor wisdom. 

Cur* Wisdom, Nennius ? 
Why, who shall fight against us, make our honours, 
And give a glorious day into our hands, 
If we dispatch oar foes thus? What's their offence? 
foaling a loaf or two to keep out hunger ? 
A piece of greasy bacon, or a pudding ? 
Do these deserve the gallows ? They are hungry. 
Poor hungry knaves, no meet at home left, starved: 
"Art thou not hungry ? 
Judas. Monstrous hungry. 
Car. He looks 
like hunger's self. Get them some victuals, 
And wine to cheer their hearts ; quick ! Hang 
up poor pitchers ? 
* Sold. This is the bravest captain — — — 
Hen. Caratach, 
fil Jeareyou to your will. 
Car. Ill answer all, sir. 
2 Dautth. Let's up and view his entertainment 
of them! 



I am glad they are «hifted any way ; their 

tongues else 
Would still have murdered us. 

1 Daugh. Let's np and see it ! [Exeunt. 

Enter Hengo. 

Car. Sit down^ poor knaves ! Why, where's 
this wine and victuals ? 
Who waits there ? 

Serv. [within.] Sir, 'tis coming. 

Hengo, Who are these, uncle ? 

Car. They are Romans, boy. 

Hengo. Are these they, 
That vex my aunt so ? can these fight ? they look 
like empty scabbards all, no mettle in thein> 
Like men of clouts, set to keep crows from or* 

chards : 
Why, I dare fight with these. 

Car. That's my good chicken ! — 
And how d'ye? how d'ye feel your stomachs? 

Judas. Wondrous apt, sir ; 
As shall appear, when time calls. 

Car. That's well ; down with it. 
A little grace well serve your turns. Ent softly! 
You'll choke, ye knaves, else. Give them wine ! 

Judas. Not yet, sir ; 
We're even a litde busy. 

Hengo. Can that fellow 
Do any thing but eat ? Thou fellow ! 

Judas. Away, boy ; 
Away; this is no boy's piny. 

Hengo. By heaven, uncle, 
If his valour lie in his teeth, he is the most valiant 

Car. I am glad to hear you talk, sir. 

Hengo. Good uncle, tell me, 
What v s the price 6f a couple of crammed 
Romans ? 

Car. Some twenty Britons, boy; these are 
good soldiers. 

Hengo. Do not the cowards eat hard too ? 

Car. No more, boy. 
Come, I'll sit with you too. Sit down by me, boy. 

Judas. Pray bring your dish then. 

Car. Hearty knaves ! more meat there. 

1 Sold. That's a good hearing. 

Car. Stay now, and pledge me. 

Judas. This little piece, sir. 

Car. By heaven, square eaters ! 
More meat, I say ! Upon my conscience, 
The poor rogues have not eat this month ! how 

terribly 
They charge upon their victuals ! Dare ye fight 
thus? 

Judas. Believe it, sir, like devils. 

Car. Well said, Famine ! 
Here's to thy general. 

Judas. Most excellent captain, 
I will now pledge thee. 

Car. And tomorrow-night, say to him. 
His head is mine. 

Judas. I can assure you, captain, 
He will not give it for this washing. 



142 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont & 



Car. Well said. [Daughter* above. 

1 Daugh. Here's a strange entertainment: 

How the thieves drink f 

2 Dough. Danger is dry; they looked for 

colder liquor. 

Car. Fill them mare wine; give them full 
bowls. Which of you all now. 
In recompense of this good, dare but give me 
A sound knock in the battle ? 

Judas. Delicate captain, 
To do thee a sufficient recompense, 
Til knock thy brains out. 

Car. Do it 

Jfcqgo. Thou darest as well 
Be damned! thou knock his brains out? thou 

skin of man ? 
Uncle, I will not hear this. 

Judas. Tie up your whelp. 

Hengo. Thou kill my uncle? Would I had but 
a sword 
For thy sake, thou dried dog ! 

Car. What a mettle 
This little vermin carries ! 

Hengo. Kill mine uncle ? 

Car. He shall not, child. 

Hengo. He cannot ; he is a rogue. 
An only eating rogue ! kill my sweet uncle ? 
Oh, that I were a man ! 

Judas. By this wine, which I 
Will drink to captain Junius, who loves 
The queen's most excellent majesty's little daugh* 

ter 
Most sweetly, and most fearfully, HI do it. 

Hengo. Uncle, 111 kill him with a great pin. 

Car. No more, boy S 
Pll pledge thy captain. To ye all, good fellows ! 

2 Daugh. In love with me ? that love shall 
cost your lives alL 
Come, sister, and advise me ; I have here 
A way to make an easy conquest of them, 
If fortune favour me. [Exeunt daughters. 

Cor. Let's see you sweat, 
Tomorrow, blood and spirit, boys; this wine 
Turned to stern valour. 

1 Sold. Hark you, Judas ; 

If he should hang us after all this? 

Judas. Let him : 
HI hang like a gentleman, and a Roman* 

Car. Take away there ; 
They have enough. 

Judas. Captain, we mink you heartily 
For your good cheer ; and if we meet tomorrow, 
One of us pays for it. 

Car. Get them guides ; their wine 
Has over-mastered them. 

Enter second Daughter and a Servant 

2 Daugh. That hungry fellow 

With the red beard there, five it him, and this, 
To see it well delivered. 

Car. Farewell, knaves ? 
Speak nobly of us; keep your words to-morrow, 



Enter a Guide. 

And do something worthy your meat Go, guide 

them, 
And see them fairly onward. [Exit. 

Judas. Meaning me, sir? 

Serv. The same. 
The youngest daughter to the queen entreats you 
To give this privately to captain Junius; 
This for your pains. 

Judas. I rest her humble servant ; 
Commend me to thy lady. Keep your files, bsyi. 

Serv. I must instruct you further. 

Judas. Keep your files there ! 
Order, sweet friends; faces about now. 

Guide. Here, sir ; 
Here lies your way. 

Judas, Bless the founders, I say ! 
Fairly, good soldiers, fairly ! march now ; close, 
boys ! [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. 

Enter Suetonius, Petillics, Demetxius, 
Dec 1 us, and Macea. 

Suet. Bid me be wise* and keep me where I 



And so be safe? not come, because commanded? 
Was it not thus ? 

Macer. It was, sir. 

Pet. What now think you ? 

Suet. Must come so Heinous to him, so dis- 
tasteful? 

Per. Give me my money. 

Dem. I confess 'tis due, sir, 
And presently 111 pay it. 

Suet. His obedience 
So blind at his years and experience, 
It cannot find where to be tendered ? 

Macer. Sir, 
The regiment was willing, and advanced too, 
The captains at all points steeled up; their pre* 

parations 
Full of resolve and confidence; youth and fire, 
Like the fair breaking of a glorious day. 
Gilded their phalanx; when the angry Peoius 
Stent, hke a stormy cloud, betwixt them and hopes* 

Suet. And stopped their resolutions? 

Macer. True ; his reason 
To them was odds, and odds so infinite, 
Discretion durst not look upon. 

Suet. Well, Penius, 
I cannot think thee coward yet; and treacherous 
I dare not think; thou hast lopfc a limb off from 

me; 
And let it be thy glory, thou was stubborn, 
Thy wisdom, that thou leiVst thy general naked! 
Yet, ere the sun set, I shall make thee see 
All Valour dwells not in thee, all command 
In one experience. Thou wilt too late repent this, 
And wish ' I must come up' had been thy blessing' 

Pet. Let's force him. 



FilTCHKfc.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



143 



Suet. No, by do means; he's a torrent 
We anoot easily stem. 
Pet. I think, a traitor. 

&ut. No ill words! let Ins own shame first re- 
nte nun. 
Iht wine I have, see it, Demetrius, 
Distributed amongst the soldiers, 
To make them high and lusty ; when that's done, 
reoffinS) gjve the word through, that the eagles 
Mir presentr/ advance ; no man discover, 
Upon fab life, the enemies' fall strength, 
Bit rake it of do value. Deems, 
ire your starred people yet come home ? 
Dee. I hope so. 

Jhet. Keep them in more obedience : This is 
no tune 
To dude, I could be angry else, and say more to 

But cone, let's order alL Whose sword is sharpest, 
And fiknr equal to his sword this cmy* 
StsJl be my saint 
Pet. We shall be holy all, men. [Exeunt. 

ifraef&Kiusv B*ter Jvvas and ka company. 

him. Captain, captain, IVe brought mem off 
again; 
The oruiLeuiiest staves ! 

Dec. Poi confound your rogueships ! 
HI cafl the general, and hare ye hanged all. 

hdos. Pray who wifl you command, then? 

Dec, For yon, sirrah, ' 
Hat are the ringleader to these devices, 
Whose maw is newer crammed, Fllhave anen- 



Judo. A wench, sweet captain. 
Dec. Sweet Judas, even the forks, 
Where you shall have two lictors, with two whips, 
Hammer your hide. 

Ms*, Captain, good words, fair words, 
Sweet words, good captain ; if you Kke not us, 
Farewell ! we have employment 
Dec. Where hast thou been? 
Jads* There, where you dare not be, with all 

your valour, 
Dec Where's that? 

Ma. With the best good fellow living. 
1 Sold. The king of aO good fellows. 
Dec Who's that? 
Judo. Caratach. 
ftafce now, and say, we have done something 

worthy! 
Ms* me, with Caratach; by this Heaven, Cara- 
tach! 
Ifeyon as much now, ah you dare. Sweet Ca- 
ratach! 
Yon talk of a good fellow, of true 
Weft go dry ways, old Caratach ! Besides the 

drank, captain, 
The bravest r milling banquet of black puddings, 

Pieces of glorious beef 

Dec, How escaped ye hanging? 



Judas. Hanging's a dog's death, we are gentle- 
men; 
And I say still, old Caratach ! 

Dec. Belike, then, 
You are turned rebels alL 

Judas. We are Roman boys all, 
And boys of mettle. I must do that, captain, 
This day, this very day 

Dec. Away> ye rascal ! 

Judas. Fair words, I say again! 

Dec. What must you do, sir? 

Judat. 1 must do that my heart-strings yearn to 
do; 
But my word's past 

Dee. What is it? 

Jttdas. Why, kiH Caratach. 
That's all he asked us for our entertainment 

Dec. More than yoti*H nay. 

Jndas. Would I had sold myself 
Unto the skin, I had not p io mis ed it ! 
For such another Caratach 

Dec. Come, fool, 
Have von done your country service? 

Jndas. Fve brought that 
To captain Junius 

Dec How! 

Judas. I think will do all; 
I cannot tell; I think so. 

Dec How ! to Junius? 
FH more enquire of this. Youll fight now? 

Judas. Promise, 
Take heed of promise, captain ! 

Dec Away, and rank then. 

Judas. But, hark you, captain; there fs wine 
distributing; 
I would fain know what share I have. 

Diet. Be gone ; 
You have too much. 

Judas. Captain, no wine, no fighting ? 
There's one called Caratach, that has wine. 

Dec Well, sir, 
If youll be ruled now, and do well— -*• 

Judas. Do excellent 

Dec You shall have wine, or any tiling. Go 
file; 
I'll see you have your share. Drag out your dor- 
mice, 
And stow them somewhere, where they may sleep 

handsomely; 
TneVW hear a hants-up shortly. 

Judas. Now I love thee : 
But no more forks nor whips ! 

Dec. Deserve diem not then. 
Up with your men ; Fll meet yon presently; 
And get them sober auickly. 

Judas. Arm, arm, Dailies ! 
All's right again and straight; and, which is more, 
More wine, more wine. Awake, ye men of 

Memphis! 
Be sober and discreet; we're much to do, boys. 

[Exeunt 






144 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



^Beaumont t 



ACT in. 



SCENE L 



I 



Enter a Messenger. 

Mess, Prepare there for the sacrifice! the 
queen comes. 

Music. Enter in solemnity the Druids singing, 
the second daughter strewing flowers ; then 
Bonduca, Caratach, N en nt us, and others. 

Bond. Ye powerful gods of Britain, hear our 
prayers ! 
Hear us, ye great revengers ! and this day 
Take pity from our, swords, doubt from our va- 
lours, 
Double the sad remembrance of our wrongs 
In every breast ! the vengeance due to those 
Make infinite and endless ! On our pikes 
This day pale terror sit,, horrors and ruins 
Upon our executions ; claps of thunder 
Hang on our armed carts ; and before our troops' 
Despair and death ; shame beyond these attend 

them ! 
Rise from the dust, ye relicks of the dead, 
Whose noble deeds our holy Druids sing \ 
Oh, rise, ye valiant bones ! let not base earth 
Oppress your honours, whilst the pride of Rome 
Treads on your stocks, and wipes out all your 
stories ! 
Nen. Thou great Tiranes, whom our sacred 
priests, 
Armed with dreadful thunder, place on high 
Above the rest of the immortal gods, 
Send thy consuming fires and deadly bolts, 
And shoot them home; stick in each Roman 

heart 
A fear fit for confusion ; blast their spirits, 
Dwell in them to destruction; through their 

phalanx 
Strike as thou strikest a proud tree ; shake their 

bodies, 
Make their strengths totter, and their topless for- 
tunes 
Unroot, and reel to ruin ! 

1 Daugh. Oh, thou god, 
Thou feared god, if ever to thy Justice 
Insulting wrongs, and ravishments of women, 
(Women derived from thee) their shames, the 

•'. sufferings 
Of those that daily filled thy sacrifice 
With virgin incense, have access, now hear me ! 
Now snatch thy thunder up, now on these Ro- 
mans, 
Despisers of thy power, of us defacers ; 
Revenge thyself; take to thy killing anger, 
To make thy great work full, the justice spoken, 
An utter rooting, from this blessed isle, 
Of what Rome is, or has been ! 

Bond. Give more incense ! 
The gods are deaf and drowsy, no happy flame 
Rises to raise our thoughts. Pour on. 



2 Daugh. See, Heaven, 
And all you powers that guide us, see and shame,. 
We kneel so long for pity ! O'er your altars, 
Since 'tis no lis;ht oblation, that you look for, 
No incense-offering, will I hang mine eyes; 
And as< I wear these stones with hourly weepiog, 
So will I meltyour powers into compassion. 
This tear for rrosutagus, my brave father ; 
(Ye gods, now think on Rome !) this for my mo-i 

ther, 
And all her miseries ; yet see, and save us 1 
But now ye must be open-eyed. See, heaven. 
Oh, see thy showers stolen from thee ; our dis- 
honours, 

[A smoke from the altar. 
Oh, sister, our dishonours ! Can ye be gods, 
And these sins smothered ? - 

Bond. The fire takes. 

Car. It does so x 
But no flame rises. Cease your fretful prayers, 
Your. whiBin.p, »d yonr taie pea*** P^ 
The gods love courage armed with confidence, 
And prayers fit to pull them down : Weak tears 
And troubled hearts, the dull twins of cold spirits, 
They sit and smile at. Hear how I salute them : 
Divine Andatc ! thou, who holdst the reins 
Of furious battles* and disordered war, 
And proudly roll'st thy swarty chariot-wheels 
Over the heaps- of wounds and carcasses, 
Sailing through seas of blood ; thou sure-steelei 

sternness, 
Give us this day good hearts, good enemies, 
Good blows of both sides, wounds, that fear or 

flight 
Can claim no share in ; steel us both with anger* 
And warlike executions, fit thy viewing; 
Let Rome put on her best strength, and thy Bri- 
tain, 
Thy little Britain, but as great in fortune, 
Meet her as strong as she, as proud, as daring ! 
And then look on x thou red-eyed god ! who does 

best, 
Reward with honour; who despair makes fly, 
Unarm for ever, and brand with infamy I 
Grant this, divine Andate ! 'tis but justice; 
And my first blow, thus, on thy holy altar' 
I sacrifice unto thee. [AJiame rises* 

Bond. It flames out [Music 

Car. Now sing, ye Druids. [&*£- 

Bond. It is out again. 

Car. He has given us leave to fight yet; wt 
ask no more ; 
The rest hangs on our resolutions : 
Tempt him no more. 

Bond. I would know further, cousin. 

Car. His hidden meaning dwells in our endeat 
vours, 
Our valours are our best gods. Chear the sol- 
dier, 
And let him eat. 



Fletcheb.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



14$ 



Met He is at it, air. 
Cur. Away then; 
Wbeo he has done, let us march. Come, fear 

not, lad j ; 
This day the Roman gains no more ground here, 
Bit what his body lies in. 
Bond. Now I am confident [Exeunt. Recorders. 

SCENE II. 

Enter Junius, Curius, and Decius. 

Dee. We dare not hazard it ; beside our lives, 
It forfeits ail our understandings. 

Jun. Gentlemen, 
Can ye forsake me in so just a service, 
A service for the commonwealth, for honour ? 
B*ad but the letter ; you may love too. 

Dec Rend it. 
If there be any safety in the circumstance, 
Or likelihood tis love, we will not fail you : 
Bend k, good Curius. 
€ur. Willingly. 
Jun. Now mark it. 

Cur. [reading.] u Health to thy heart, my ho- 
noured Junius, 
All thy Jove requited ! I am thine, 
Thine everlastingly ; thy love has won me ; 
And led it breed no doubt, our new acquaintance 
Compels this; 'tis the gods' decree to bless us. 
The times are dangerous to meet, yet fail not ; 
Ifr all the love thou bear'st me I conjure. thee, 
without distrust of danger, to come to me 1 
For I have purposed a delivery 
Both of myself and fortune this blessed day 
Into thy hands, if thou thinkest good. To shew thee 
How infinite my love is, even my mother 
Shall be tby prisoner, the day yours without 

hazard; 
For I beheld your danger like a lover, 
A jostaffecfer of thy faith : Thy goodness, 
I know, will use us nobly ; and our marriage, 
If not redeem, yet lessen Rome's ambition : 
Tm weary of these miseries. Use my mother 
(If you intend to take her) with all honour; 
And let this disobedience to my parent 
Be laid on love, not roe. Bring with thee, Junius, 
Spirits resolved to fetch me off, the noblest; 
ft. y will serve the turn, just at the joining 
Of both the battles ; we will be weakly guarded, 
And for a guide, within this hour, shall reach thee 
A faithful friend of mine. The gods, my Junius, 
Keep thee, and me to serve thee ! Young Bon- 
vica." 
Cur. This letter carries much. belief, and most 
objections 
Aaswered, we must have doubted. 

Dee. Is that fellow 
Come to you for a guide yet ? 
Jam. Yes. 

Dec. And examined ? 

Jan. Far more than that ; he has felt tortures, 
yet 
Vol. I. 



He vows he knows no more than this truth, 

Dec. Strange ! 

Cur. If she mean what she writes, as it may 
be probable, 
Twill be trie happiest vantage we can lean to. 

Jun. I'll pawn my soul she means truth. 

Dec. Think an hour more ; 
Then if your confidence grow stronger on you, . 
We'll set in with you. 

Jun. Nobly done ! I thank ye. 
Ye know the time. 

Cur. We will be either ready 
To give you present counsel, or join with you. 

Enter Suetonius, Petillius, Demetrius, and 

Macee. 

Jun. No more, as ye are gentlemen. The ge- 
neral ! 

Suet. Draw out apace ; the enemy waits for us. 
Are ye all ready ? 

Jun. All our troops attend, sir. 

Suet.. I am glad to hear you. say so, Junius; 
I hope you are dispossessed. 

Jun. I hope so too, sir. 

Suet. Continue so. 'And, gentlemen, to you 
now ! 
To bid you fight is needless ; ye are Romans ; 
The name will fight itself : To tell ye who 
You go to fight against, his power, and nature, 
But loss of time ; ye know it, know it poor, 
And oft have made it so : To (ell ye further, 
His body shews more dreadful than it has fione, 
To him that fears, less possible to deal with, 
Is but to stick more honour on your. actions, 
Load ye with virtuous names, and to your me- 
mories 
Tie never-dying time and fortune constant 
Go on in full assurance ! draw your sworp^s 
As daring and as confident as justice ; 
The gods of Rome fight for ye; loud Fame calls 

Pitched on the topless Apenninc, where the 

snow dwells, 
And blows to all the under-world, all nations, 
The seas and unfrequented deserts; wakens 
The ruined monuments ; and there, wl^ere, no- 
thing 
But eternal death and sleep is, informs again 
The dead bones with your virtues. Go on, I say : 
Valiant and wise rule heaven, and all the great 
Aspects ! .attend them, do but blow upon 
This enemy, who, but that we want foes, 
Cannot deserve that name ; and, like a mist, 
A lazy fog, before your burning valours 
You'll find him fly to nothing. This is all ; 
We have swords, and are the sons of ancient Ro- 
mans, 
Heirs to their endless valours; fight and conquer! 
Dec. Dcm. It is done. 
Pet. That man, that loves not. this day, 
And hugs not in his arms the noble danger, 
Mav he die tameless and forgot ! 

N 



146 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont & 



Suet. Sufficient ! 
Up to your troops, and let your drums beat thun- 
der; 
March close and sudden, like a tempest : All ex- 
ecutions [March. 
Done without sparkling of the body ; keep your 

phalanx 
Sure lined, and pieced together, your pikes for- 
ward, 
And so march like a moving fort Ere this day 

run, 
We shall have ground to add to Rome, well won. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE m. 

Enter Caratach and Nennius. 

Nen. The Roman is advanced ; from yon hill's 
brow 

We may behold him, Caratach. [A march. 

Car. Let us thither ; 

[Drums within at one place afar off. 

I see the dust fly. Now I see the body. 

Observe them, Nennius ; by heaven, a handsome 
body, 

And, of a few, strongly and wisely jointed ! 

Suetonius is a soldier. 
Nen. As I take it, 

That is he, that gallops by the regiments, 

Viewing their preparations. 
Car. Very likely ; 

He shews no less than general. See how bravely 

The body moves, and in the head how proudly 

The captains stick like plumes; he come apace on. 

Good Nennius, go, ana bid my stout lieutenant 

Bring on the first square body to oppose them, 

And, as he charges, open to enclose them ; 

The queen move next with her's, and wheel about, 

To gain their backs, in which I'll lead the van- 
guard. 

We shall have bloody crowns this day, I see by it 

Haste thee, good Nennius ; Til follow instantly. 

[Exit Nennius. 

How close they march, as if they grew together, 

[March. 

No place but lined alike, sure from oppression ! 

They will not change this figure ; we must charge 
them, 

And charge them home at both ends, van and 
rear ; [Drums in another place afar off. 

They never totter else. I hear our musilC 

And must attend it : Hold, good sword, but this 
day, 

And bite hard, where I hound thee ! and here- 
after 

Til make a relic of thee, for young soldiers 

To come like pilgrims to, and kiss for conquests. 

[Exit. 
SCENE IV. 

Enter Junius^ Curius, and Decius. 

Jun. Now is the time ; the fellow stays. 
Dec. What think ve ? 



Cur. I think it is true. 
Jun. Alas, if it were a question, 
If any doubt or hazard fell into it, 
Do ye think mine own discretion so self-blind, 
My care of ye so naked, to run headlong? 
Dec. Let us take Petillius with us ! 
Jun. By no means ; 
He is never wise but to himself, nor courteous, 
But where the end is his own : we are strong 

enough, 
If not too many. Behind yonder hill, 
The fellow tells nic, she attends, weak guarded, 
Her mother and her sister. 
Cur. I would venture. 

Jun. We shall not strike five blows for it. 
Weigh the good, 
The general good may come. 
Dec. Away ! I'll with ye ; 

But with what doubt 

Jun. Fear not ; my soul for all ! 

[Exeunt. Alarms, drums and trumpets 
in several places afar off, as at a main 
battle. 

SCENE V. 

Enter Drusius and Pen r us above. 

Drus. Here you may see them all, sir; from* 
this hill 
The country shews off level. 

Pen. Gods defend me, 
What multitudes they are, what infinites ! 
The Roman power shews like a little star, 
Hedged with a double halo.— Now the knell rings: 

tljoud shouts. 
**«.«, .. vn MMV ,.v«. w *..*. W vw. . how the air 
Totters and reels, and rends apieces, Drusius, 
With the huge-vollied clamours ! 

Drus. Now they charge 
(Oh, gods !) of all sides, fearfully. 

Pen. Little Rome, 
Stand but this growing hydra one short hoar, 
And thou hast out-done Hercules ! 

Drus. The dust 
Hides them; we cannot see what follows. 

Pen. They are cone, 
Gone, swallowed, Drusius ; this eternal sun 
Shall never see them march more! 

Drus. Oh, turn this way, 
And see a model of the field ! some forty, 
Against four hundred ! 

Pen. Well fought, bravely followed ! 
Oh, nobly charged again, charged home too! 

Drusius, 
They seem to carry it Now they charge all ; 

[Loud shouts. 
Close, close, I say ! they follow it Ye gods, 
Can there be more in men ? more daring spirits? 
Still they make good their fortunes. Now they 

are gone too, 
For ever gone ! see, Drusius, at their backs 
A fearful ambush rises. Farewell, valours, 



Fletcheb,] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



147 



Excellent Tatars ! oh, Rome, where is thy wis- 
dom? 
Dna. They are gone indeed, sir. 
Pen. Look out toward the army ; 
I am heavy with these slaughters. 

Dna. 'tis the same still, 
Covered with dust and fury. [They retire. 

Enter the two Daughters, with J u n i u s, C u E i- 
l*S Deri us, Soldiers, and Servants. 

S Dough. Bring them in ; 
Tie them, and then unarm them. 

1 Dough. Valiant Romans, 
Ye are welcome to your loves ! 

* Dough. Your death, fools ! 

Dec. We deserve them ; 
And, women, do your worst. 

1 Dough. Ye need not beg it 

2 Dough. Which is kind Junius ? 
Sen. This. 

9 Dough. Are you my sweetheart ? 
It bob ill on it ! How long is it, pretty soul, 
Since yoa and I first loved ? Had we not reason 
To doat extremely upon one another ? 
How does my love ? This is not he ; my chicken 
CouU prate finely, sing a love-song. 

Jun. Monster 

S Dough. Oh, now it courts ! 

Jon. Armed with more malice 
Than he, that got thee, has, the devil. 

1 Dough. Good ! 
Proceed, sweet chick. 

Jun, I hate thee ; that is my last 

2 Dough. Nay, an you love me, forward ! — 

No? Come, sister, 

kt us prick our answers on our arrows* points, 

And make them laugh a little. Ye damned le- 
chers, 

Te proud improvident fools, have we now caught 
yc? 

Are je in the noose ? Since ye are such loving 
creatures, 

wVH be your Cupids : Do ye see these arrows ? 

Well send them to your wanton livers, goats. 
1 Dough. Oh, how I'll trample on your hearts, 
Te villains. 

Ambitious salt-itch slaves, Rome's master-sins ! 
? Dough. Dogs, 

Tkieves, honour's hangmen, do ye grin? Perdition 

Take me for ever, if, in my fell anger, 

1 do not out-do all example. 

Enter Caratach. 

C*r. Where, 
Where are the ladies? Ye keep noble quarter ! 
Your mother thinks you dead or taken, upon 

which 
She will not move her battle. — Sure these faces 
1 hare beheld and known ; they are Roman leaders ! 
How came they here? 

1 Dough. A trick, sir, that we used ; 
A certain policy conducted them 



Unto our snare : We have done you no small ser- 
vice. 
These used as we intend, we are for the battle. 
Car. As you intend ? Taken by treachery ? 

1 Daugh. Is it not allowed ? 

Car. Those, that should gild our conquest, 
Make up a battle worthy of our winning, 
Catched up by craft? 

2 Daugh. By any means that's lawful. 

Car. A woman's wisdom in our triumphs? Out! 
Out, out, ye sluts, ye follies ! From our swords 
Filch our revenges basely ? — Arm again, gentle- 
men! 
Soldiers, I charge ye help them. 
Dispatch there! 

1 Daugh. I will not off thus ! 
Car. He that stirs to execute, 

Or she, though it be yourselves, by him that got 

me, 
Shall quickly feel mine anger ! One great day 

given us, 
Not to be snatched out of our hands but basely, 
And must we shame the gods from whence we 

have it, 
With setting snares for soldiers ? I'll run away 

first, 
Be booted at, and children call me coward, 
Before I set up stales for victories. 
Give them their swords. 

2 Daugh. Oh, Gods ! 
Car. Bear off the women 

Unto their mother ! 
2 Daugh. One shot, gentle uncle ! 
Car. Bear them oft; I say. 
1 Daugh. The devil take this fortune ! 
Car. Learn to spin, [Exeunt Daughters, 

And curse your knotted hemp ! — Go, gentlemen, 
Safely go off, up to your troops ; be wiser ; 
There thank me like tall soldiers : I shall seek ve. 

[Eiit. 
Cur. A noble worth ! 
Dee. Well, Junius ? 
Jun. Pray ye, no more f 
Cur. He blushes ; do not load him. 
Dec. Where is your love now ? 

[Drums bud again. 
Jun. Puff! there it flies. Come, let us redeem 
our follies. 

[Exeunt Junius, Curius, and Decius. 

Drusius and Pen i us come forward. 

Drus. Awake, sir; yet the Roman body's whole ; 
I see them clear again. 

Pen. Whole ? it is impossible ; 
Drusius, they must be lost 

Drus. By heaven, they are whole, sir, 
And in brave doing; see, they wheel about, 
To gain more ground. 

Pen. But see there, Drusius, see, 
See that huge battle moving from the mountains ! 
Their gilt coats shine like dragon's scales, their 
march 



148 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont f 



like a rough tumbling storm; see them, and view 
them. 

And then see Rome no more. Say they fail, 
look, 

Look where the armed carts stand; a new army! 

Look how they hang like falling rocks ! as mur- 
dering 

Death rides in triumph, Drusius, fell Destruction 

Lashes his fiery horse, and round about him 

His many thousand ways to let out souls. 

Move me again, when they charge, when the 
mountain 

Melts under their hot wheels, and from their axle- 
trees 

Huge claps of thunder plough the ground before 
them! 

"Till then, Til dream what Rome was. [They retire. 

Enter Suetonius, Petillius, Demetrius, and 

Macer. 

Suet. Oh, bravely fought ! 
Honour till now ne'er shewed her golden face 
In the field : Like lions, gentlemen, you have held 
Your heads up this day. Where is young Junius, 
Curius, and Decius? 
Pet. Gone to heaven, I think, sir. 
Suet. Their worths go with them ! Breathe a 

while. How do ye ? 
Pet. Well; some few scurvy Wounds; my 

heart's whole yet, 
Dem. Would they would give us more ground ! 
Suet. Give ? well have it 
Pet. Have it, and hold it too, despite the devil. 

Enter Junius, Decius, and Curius. 

Jun. Lead up to the head, and line sure ! The 
queen's battle 
Begins to charge like wildfire. Where's the ge- 
neral? 

Suet. Oh, they are living yet Come, my brave 
soldiers, 
Come, let me pour Rome's blessing on ye : Live, 
Live, and lead armies all ! Ye bleed hard. 

Jun. Best; 
We shall appear the sterner to the foe. 
' Dec. More wounds, more honour. 

Pet. Lose no time. 

Suet. Away then ; 
And stand this shock, ye have stood the world. 

Pet. We'll grow to it. 
Is not this better now than lousy loving ? 

Jun. I am myself, Petillius. 

Pet. lis I love thee. [Exeunt Romans. 

Enter Bonduca, Caratach, Daughters, and 

Nek n i us. 

Car. Charge them m the flanks ! Oh, you have 
played the fool, 
The fool extremely, the mad fool ! 
Bond. Why, cousin ? 

Car. The woman fool ! Why did you give the 
word 
Unto the carts to charge down, and our people, 



In gross before the enemy ?• We pay for it; 
Our own swords cut our throats ! Why, pox on it! 
Why do you offer to command ? The devil, 
The devil, and his dam too ! who bid you 
Meddle in men's affairs ? 
Bond. I'll help all. 

Car. Home, [Exeunt Queen, fa. 

Home and spin, woman, spin, go spin ! you trifle. 
Open before there, or all's ruined 1— How? 

[Shouts within. 
Now comes the tempest on ourselves, by heaven ! 
Within. Victoria I 

Car. Oh, woman, scurvy woman, beasdy wo- 
man ! 
[Exeunt omnes prater Drusius and Penuu. 
Drus. Victoria, victoria ! 
Pen. How is that, Drusius ! 
Drus. They win, they win, they win ! Ob, look, 
look, look, sir, 
For Heaven's sake, look ! The Britons fly, the 
Britons fly ! Victoria ! 

Enter Suetonius, Soldiers, and Captains. 

Suet. Soft, soft, pursue it soft, excellent sol- 
diers! 
Close, my brave fellows, honourable Romans ! 
Oh, cool thy mettle, Junius ; they are ours, 
The world cannot redeem them : Stern Petillius, 
Govern the conquest nobly. Soft, good soldiers! 

[Exeunt. 

Enter Bonduca, Daughters, and Britons. 

Bond. Shame ! whither fly ye, ye unlucky Bri- 
tons? 

Will ye creep into your mothers' wombs again? 
Back, cowards ! 

Hares, fearful hares, doves in your angers! leave 
me? 

Leave your queen desolate ? her hapless children! 

Enter Caratach and Hen go. 

To Roman rape again, and fury ? 

Car. Fly, ye buzzards ! 
Yc've wings enough, ye fear ! Get thee gone, wo- 
man, [Loud shout within. 
Shame tread upon thy heels ! All's lost, all's lost! 

Hark, 
Hark how the Romans ring our knells ! 

[Ex. Bond. $c 
Hengo. Good uncle, 
Let me go too. 

Car. No, boy ; thy fortune's mine ; 
I must not leave thee. Get behind me; abate 
not; 

Enter Petillius, Junius, and Decius. 

I'll breech you, if you do, boy. — Come, brave Ro- 
mans! 
All is not lost yet. 

Jun. Now 1 11 thank thee, Caratach. 

[Fight. Drum 
Car. Thou art a soldier; strike home, *"■"*■ 
have at you ! 



FlbtcbebJ 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



U9 



Pen. H» UowsfaU like huge sledges on an anvil. I 
Dee. I'm weary. 
Prf. So am L 

Car. Send more swords to me. 
Jn. Let's sit and rest. [Sit dawn. 

Drus. What think you now ? 
Pen. Oh, Drasius. 
F?e lost mine honour, lost my name, lost all 
That was my light: These are true Romans, 

and I 
A Briton coward, a base coward ! Guide me, 
Where nothing is but desolation, 
That I may never more behold the face 
Of man, or mankind know me! Oh, blind for- 
tune, 
Hatt thoo abased me thus ! 

Drw. Good sir, be comforted ; 
It was your wisdom ruled you. Pray you go 

home; 
Your day is yet to come, when this great fortune 
Shall be but foil unto it [ Retreat. 



<• Pern. Fool, fool, coward ! 

[Exeunt Peniut and Drutius. 

Enter Suetonius, Demetrius, Soldiers, drum 

and colours. 

Suet. Draw in, draw in ! — Well have you 
fought, and worthy 

Rome's noble recompense. Look to your wounds; 

The ground is cold and hurtful. The proud 
queen 

Has got a fort, and there she and her daughters 

Defy us once again : To-morrow morning 

We'll seek her out, and make her know our for- 
tunes 

Stop at no stubborn walls. Come, sons of ho* 
nour, 

True virtue's heirs, thus hatched with Britain 
blood, 

Let's march to rest, and set in gules like suns. 

Beat a soft march, and each one ease his neigh- 
bours ! [Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. 



Enter PETiLLitrs, Junius, Decius, and De- 
metrius, singing. 

Pet Smooth was his cheek, 
Dec. And his chin it was sleeky 
Jun. With, whoop, he has done wooing ! 
Dem, Junius was this captain's name, 

A lad for a lass's viewing. 
Pet Full black his eye, and plump his thigh, 
Dec Made up for love's pursuing. 
Dem. Smoot h was his cheek, 
Pet. And his chin it was sleek, 
Jan. With, whoop, he has done wooing ! 

Pet. Oh, my vexed thief, art thou come home 
•pin? 

Are thy brains perfect ? 

Jun. Sound as bells. 

Per. Thy back-worm 
Quiet, and cast bis sting, boy ? 

Jan. Dead, Petillius, 
Dead to ail folly, and now my anger onl y 

Pet. Why, that's well said; hang Cupid and 
his quiver, 
A drunken brawling boy ! Thy honoured saint 
3e thy ten shillings, Junius; there's the money, 
And there's the ware ; square dealing : Thus but 

sweats thee 
like a nesh nag, and makes thee look pin-but- 

tocked; 
The other runs thee whining up and down 
like a pig in a storm, fills thy brains full of bal* 

And shews thee like a lone lent, thy brave body 
Turned to a tail of green fish without butter. 



Dec. When thou lovest next, love a good cup 
of wine, 
A mistress for a king ! she leaps to kiss thee, 
Her red and white's her own, she makes good 

blood, 
Takes none away. 

Jun. I am counselled ; 
And henceforth, when I doat agai n 

Dem. Take heed ; 
Ye had almost paid for it 

Pet. Love no more great ladies ; 
Thou canst not step amiss then ; there's no de- 
light in them : 
All's in the whistling of their snatcht-up silks ; 
They're only made for handsome view, not hand- 
ling. 
Jun. Thou speakest truly : 
The wars shall be my mistress now. 

Pet. Well chosen ! 
For she's a bouncing lass; she'll kiss thee at 

night, boy, 
And break thy pate in the morning. 

Jun. Yesterday 
I found those favours infinite. 
Dem. Wench good enough, 
But that she talks too loud. 

Pet. She talks to the purpose, 
Which never woman did yet Shell hold grap- 
pling, 
And he that lays on best is her best servant ; v 
All other loves are mere catching of dottrels* 
Here comes the general. 

tenter Suetonius, Curius, and Macer. 

Suet. I'm glad I've found ye : 
Are those come in yet, that pursued bold Cara- 
tach? 



150 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont } 



Pet. Not yet, sir, for I think they mean to 
lodge him ; 
Take him I know they dare not, 'twill be dan- 
gerous. 

Suet. Then haste, Petillius, haste to Penius : 
I fear the strong conceit of what disgrace 
He has pulled upon himself, will be his ruin ; 
I fear his soldiers' fury too : Haste presently ; 
I would not lose him for all Britain. Give him, 
Petillius 

Pet. That, that shall choke him. [Aside. 

Suet. All the noble counsel, 
His fault forgiven too, his place, his honour 

Pet. For me, I think, as handsome 

[Aside. 

Suet. All the comfort ; 
And tell the soldier, 'twas on our command 
He drew not to the battle. 

Pet. I conceive, sir, 
And will do that shall cure all. 

Suet. Bring him with you 
Before the queen's fort, and his forces with him; 
There you shall find us following of our conquest. 
Make haste ! 

Pet. The best I may. [Exit. 

Suet. And, noble gentlemen, 
Up to your companies ! we'll presently 
Upon the queen s pursuit. There's nothing done 
Till she be seized ; without her, nothing won. 

[Exeunt. Short flourish. 

SCENE H. 

Enter Caratach and Hengo. 

Car. How does my boy ? 

Hengo. I would do well ; my heart's well ; 
I do not fear. 

Car. My good boy! 

Hengo. I know, uncle, 
We must all die ; my little brother died, 
I saw him die, and he died smiling ; sure 
There's no great pain in it, uncle. But pray tell 

me, 
Whither must we go when we're dead ? 

Car. Strange questions ! — 
Why, to the blessedest place, boy — Ever sweet- 
ness 
And happiness dwell there. 

Hengo. Will you come to me ? 

Car. Yes, my sweet boy. 

Hengo. Mine aunt too, and my cousins? 

Car. All, my good child. 
* Hengo. No Romans, uncle ? 

Car. No, boy. 

Hengo. I should be loth to meet them there. 

Car. No ill men, 
That live by violence, and strong oppression, 
Come thither ; 'tis for those the gods love, good 
men. 

Hengo. Why, then, I care not when I go, for 
surely 



I am persuaded they love me : I never 
Blasphemed them, uncle, nor transgressed my 

parents ; 
I always said my prayers. 

Car. Thou shalt go then, 
Indeed thou shalt. 

Hengo. When they please. 

Car. That's my good boy ! 
Art thou weary, Hengo ? 

Hengo. Weary, uncle ? 
I've heard you say you've marched all day in 
armour. 

Car. I have, boy. 

Hengo. Am not I your kinsman ? 

Car. Yes. 

Hengo. And am not I as full? allied unto yon 
In those brave things, as blood r 

Car. Thou art too tender. 

Hengo. To go upon my legs ? they were made 
to bear me. 
I can play twenty mile a»day ; I see no reason, 
But, to preserve my country and myself, 
I should march forty. 

Car. What wouldst thou be, living 
To wear a man's strength r 

Hengo. Why, a Caratach, 
A Roman-hater, a scourge sent from heaven 
To whip these proud thieves from our kingdom. 
Hark, [Dm*. 

Hark, uncle, hark ! I hear a drum. 

Enter Judas and his people to the door. 

Judas. Beat softly, 
Softly, I say ; they're here. Who dare charge? 

1 Sold. He, 
That dares be knocked on the head: 111 not 
come near him. 
Judas. Retire again, and watch then. How 
he stares ! 
He has eyes would kill a dragon. Mark the boy 

well; 
If we could take or kill him — A pox on ye, 
How fierce ye look ! See, how he broods tbs 

boy? 
The devil dwells in his scabbard. Back, I say! 
Apace, apace ! he has found us. [They retire. 
Car. Do ye hunt us ? 

Hengo. Uncle, good ancle, see ! the thin starved 
rascal, 
The eating Roman, see where he thrids the 

thickets : 
Kill him, dear uncle, kill him ! one good blow 
To knock his brains into his breech; strike 
his head off. 
Car. Do ye make us foxes? 
Here, hold my charging-staff, and keep the place, 

boy! 
I am at bay, and like a bull 111 bear roe. 
Stand, stand, ye rogues, ye squirrels ! [Exit. 

Hengo. Now he pays them ; 
Oh, that I had a man's strength ! 



Fletchei.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



lSl 



Enter Judas, Sfc. 



Judas. Here's the boy; 
Mine awn, I thank my fortune. 

Hengo. Uncle, uncle ! 
famine is fallen upon me, ancle. 

Judas. Come, sir, 
Yield willingly, (your uncle's out of hearing) 
111 tickle your .young tail else, 

Hengo. I defy thee, 
Thou mock-made man of mat ? Charge home, 

surah! 
Hang thee, base slave, thou shakesL 

Judas. Upon my conscience. 
The boy will beat me ! how it looks, how bravely, 
How confident the worm is ! a scabbed boy 
To handle me thus ! — Yield, or I cut thy head off. 
Hengo. Thou darest not cut my finger ; here 

tis, touch it 
Judas. The boy speaks sword and buckler! 
Prithee yield, boy ; 
Cone, here's an apple, yield. 

Hengo. By Heaven, he fears me ! 
IT! give you sharper language: When, ye coward, 
When come ye up ? 

Judas. If he should beat me 

Hengo. When, sir? 
I long to kill thee ! Come, thou canst not escape 

me; 
Fve twenty ways to charge thee, twenty deaths 
Attend my bloody staff. 

Judas. Sure, 'as the devil, 
A dwarf devil in a doublet ! 

Hengo. I have killed 
A captain, sirrah, a brave captain, and when I've 

done, 
IVe kicked him thus. Look here; see how I charge 
Ihisstaff! 
Judns. Most certain this boy will cut my throat 
yet* 

Enter two Soldiers running. 

1 Sold. Flee, flee ! he kills us. 

2 SoUL He comes, he comes ! 
Judas. The devil take the hindmost ! 

[Exeunt Judas, SfC 
Hengo. Ron, run, ye rogues, ye precious rogues, 
ye rank rogues! 
A comes, a comes, a comes, a comes ! that's ' ?, 

boys! 
What a brave cry they make ! 

Enter Carat ach, trith a head* 

Car. How does my chicken ? 

Hengo. 'Faith, uncle, grown a soldier, a great 
soldier ; 
For, by the virtue of your charging-staff, 
And a strange fighting face I put upon it, 
I've out-braved Hunger. 
- Car. That's my boy, my sweet boy ! 
Here, here's a Roman's head for thee. 

Hengo. Good provision ! 



Before I starve, my sweet-faced gentleman, 
Til try your favour. 

Car. A right complete soldier ! 
Come, chicken, let's go seek some place of strength 
(The country's full of scouts) to rest a while in; 
Thou wilt not else be able to endure 
The journey to my country. Fruits and water 
Must be your food a while, boy. 

Hengo. Any thing ; 
I can eat moss, nay, I can live on anger, 
To vex these Romans. Let's be wary, uncle. 

Car. I warrant thee ; come cheerfully. 

Hengo. And boldly ! [Exeunt. 

SCENE IH. 

Enter Pen i us, Drusius, and Regulus. 

Reg. The soldier shall not grieve you. 

Pen. Pray yc forsake me ; 
Look not upon me, as yc love your honours! 
I am so cold a coward, my infection 
Will choke your virtues like a damp else. 

Drus. Dear captain ! 

Reg. Most honoured sir ! 

Pen. Most hated, most abhorred ! 
Say so, and then ye know me, nay, ye please me. 
Oh, my dear credit, my dear credit : 

Reg. Sure 
His mind is dangerous. 

Drus. The good gods cure it ! 

Pen. My honour got through fire, through stub- 
born breaches, 
Through battles, that have been as hard to win 

as heaven, 
Through Death himself, in all his horrid trims, 
Is gone for ever, ever, ever, gentlemen ! 
And now Tm left to scornful tales and laughters, 
To hootings at, pointing with fingers, ' That's he, 
' That's the brave gentleman forsook the battle, 
4 The most wise Penius, the disputing coward.' 
Oh, my good sword, break from my side, and kill 

me; 
Cut out the coward from my heart ! 

Reg. You are none. 

Pen. He lies, that says so ; by heaven, he lies, 

lies basely, 

Baser than I have done ! Come, soldiers, seek me ; 

I have robbed ye of your virtues ! Justice seek me; 

I have broke my fair obedience ! Last, Shame 

take me, 
Take me, and swallow me, make ballads of me, 
Shame, endless shame ! and, pray, do you forsake 
me ! 

Drus. What shall we do ? 

Pen. Good gentlemen, forsake me ; 
You were not wont to be commanded. Friends, 

- pray do it, 
And do not fear ; for, as I am a coward, 
I will not hurt myself, (when that mind takes me, 
I'll call to you, and ask your help) I dare not 

Throws himself upon the ground. 



152 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont $ 



Enter Petillius. 

Pet. Good-morrow, gentlemen ! Where's the 
tribune ? 

Reg. There. 

Drus. Whence come you, good Petillius ? 

Pet. From the general. 

Drus. With what, for Heaven's sake ? 

Pet. With good counsel, Drusius, 
And love, to comfort him. 

Drus. Good Regulus, 
Step to the soldier and allay his anger; 
For he is wild as winter. [Exeunt Drus. and Reg. 

Pet. Oh, are you there ? have at you ! — Sure 
he's dead, 
It cannot be he dare out-live this fortune ; 
He must die, 'tis most necessary ; men expect it, 
And thought of life in him goes beyond coward. 
Forsake the field so basely ? Fy upon it ! 
So poorly to betray his worth, so coldly 
To cut all credit from the soldier ? Sure 
If this roan mean to live, (as I should think it 
Beyond belief) he must retire, where never . 
The name of Rome, the voice of arms, or honour, 
Was known or heard of yet He's certain dead, 
Or strongly means it ; he s no soldier else, 
No Roman in him ; all he has done but outside, 
Fought either drunk or desperate. Now he rises. 
How does lord Penius ? 

Pen. As you see. 

Pet. I'm glad on't; 
Continue so still. The lord general, 
The valiant general, great Suetonius 

Pen. No more of me is spoken ; my name is 
perished. 

Per. He that commanded fortune and the day, 
By his own valour and discretion, 
(when, as some say, Penius refused to come, 
«But I believe them not) sent me to see you. 

Pen. Ye are welcome ; and pray see me, see 
me well ; 
You shall not see me long. 

Pet. I hope so, Penius. — 
The gods defend, sir ! 

Pen. See me and understand me: This is he, 
Left to fill up your triumph; he, that basely 
Whistled his honour off to the wind, that coldlv 
Shrunk in his politic head, when Rome, like 

reapers, 
'Sweat blood and spirit for a glorious harvest, 
And bound it up, and brought it off; that fool, 
That, having gold and copper offered him, 
Refused the wealth, and took the waste ; that sol- 
dier, . 
That being courted by loud Fame and Fortune, 
Labour in one hand that propounds us gods, 
And, in the other, Glory that creates us, 
Yet durst doubt and be damned ! 

Pet. It was an error. 

Pen. A foul one, and a black one. 

Pet. Yet the blackest 
May be washed white again. 



Pen. Never. 

Pet. Your leave, sir; 
And I beseech you note me, for I love you, 
And bring alone all comfort: Are we gods, 
Allied to no infirmities ? are our natures 
More than men's natures? When we slip a iituV 
Out of the way of virtue, are we lost ? 
Is there no medicine called sweet mercy? 

Pen. None, Petillius; 
There is no mercy in mankind' can reach me, 
Nor is it fit it should ; I've sinned beyond it 

Pet. Forgiveness meets with all faults. 

Pen. Tis all faults, 
All sins I can commit, to he forgiven ; 
Tis loss of whole man in me, my discretion, 
To be so stupid, to arrive at pardon ! 

Pet. Oh, but the general 

Pen. He is a brave gentleman, 
A valiant, and a loving ; and, I dare say, 
He would, as far as honour durst direct him, 
Make even with my fault ; but 'tis not honest, 
Nor in his power : examples, that may nourish 
Neglect and disobedience in whole bodies, 
And totter die estates and faiths of armies, 
Must not be played withal ; nor oat of pity 
Make a general forget his duty ; 
Nor dare I hope more from hiui than is worthy. 

Pet. What would you do ? 

Pen. Die. 

Per. Sp would sullen children, 
Women that want their wills, slaves disobedient, 
That fear the law. Die ? Fy, great captain I you 
A man to rule men, to have thousand lives 
Under your regiment, and let your passion 
Betray your reason ? I bring you all forgiveness) 
The noblest kind commends, your place, yoar 
honour r 

Pen. Prithee no more ; tis foolish. Didst not 
.thou 
(By Heaven, thou didst ; I overheard thee, there, 
There where thou standest now) deliver me for 

rascal, 
Poor, dead, cold coward, miserable, wretched, 
If I outlive this ruin ? 

Pet. I? 

Pen. And thou didst it nobly, 
Like a true man, a soldier ; aitd I thank thee, 
I thank thee, good Petillius, thus I thank thee ! 

Pet. Since you are so justly made up, let me 
tell you, 
'Tis fit you die indeed. 

Pen. Oh, how thou lovest me ! 

Pet. For say he had forgiven you, say the peo- 
ple's whispers 
Were tame again, the time run out for wonder, 
What must your own command think, from whose 

swords 
You have taken off the edges, from whose valours 
The due and recompense of arms ; nay, made it 

doubtful 
Whether they knew obedience! must not these 
kill vou ? 

2 



Flwtcebl] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



153 



Say the/in? wool© pardniL you; .fay mere miracle 
Brought to forgive you, what old valiant soldier, 
What man that loveVtoflght, and fight for Rome, 
Wlierw follow you more ! Dare you know, these 

ventures ? 
If so, Ibriogyou oomfort; dare you take it? 
Pol No, no, Petillius, no* 
Pet. If jour mind serve you, 
You may live still; but how? yet pardon me: 
Yob may out-wear all < tbo; but when? and cer- 
tain 
There is a mercy for each fault, if tamely - 
A man will-take it upon conditions. 
Pes* No* by no means t t am only thinking 
now, sir, 
(For I am resolved to go) of a most base death, 
Fitting die baseness ofmy fault. Y\\ hang* 
Pet. You shall notj you are a gentleman I 
honour; 
I wools' else natter you, and force you live, 
Wbicn is far baser. Hanging ? 'tis a dog's death, 
Ad end for slaves. 
Pea. The fitter for my baseness. 
Pet. Besides, the man, that is hanged, preaches 
bis end, 
And sits a sign for all the world to gape at. 
Pen. That is true ; I'll take a fitter: poison. 
Pet. No, . 

T« equal ill ; the death of rats and women, 
liven, and lasy fcoysy that fear correction ; 
Die like a man. 
Pen, Why* myawoTO^ then* 
Pet. Ay, if your sword be sharp, sir* 
Therein nothing- under 'heaven that's like your 

sword; 
Yov sward is a death indeed ! 
Pen, It shall be sharp, sir. .. 
Pet. Why, Mithridates was «n arrant ass 
To die by poison, if all Bosphorus 
Could lean him swords: Your sword must do the 

deed; 
Th shame to die cboaked, fame to die and bleed. 
Pen. Thou hast confirmed me; and, my good 
Petillius, 
Tell me do. more I may live. 

Pet. fwas my commission ; 
Bkmt I .ee^a in a nobler way, 
A nay to make all even. 

Pen. Farewell, captain! 
9a a good man, and fight well ; be obedient; 
Command thyself, and then thy men. Why sha- 
kestthou? 
Pet. I do not, sir. 

Pen. J would thou hadst, Petillius! . 
I would find something tQ forsake the world with, 
Worthy the man that dies : a kind of earthquake 
Through all stern valours but mine own. 

Per. I feel now 
A kind of trembling in me* 
- Pea. Keep it stiff; 
As thou Lovest virtue, keep it 
Pet. And,, brave captam, 
Vol. I. 



The great- and honoured Peniiis !— — 

Pen. That again ! 
Oh, how it heightens- me 1 again, Petillius I 
.Pet/ Most excellent commander !— 

Pen. Those were mine, 
Mine,. only mine I 

Pet. They are still. 
! Bern Then* to keep them 
From ever falling more, have at ye4 Heavens, 
Ye everlasting powers, I'm yours-: The work is 
- - done, , [Kitls kmselj] 

That neither fire, nor age, nor melting envy, 
Shall iever conquer* - Carry-Triy uutaord* 
To» the great general? kiss his hands, , and say, 
My souTl give to Heaven* my fault to justice, 
Which I have done upen myself; my virtue, 
If ever there .was any in poor Penius, 
Made more, and happier, light on him ! — I faint — 
And where there is a foe, I wish him fortune. 
I die. lie lightly on my ashes, gende earth ! [Diet. 

Pet. And on my sin! Farewell, great Penius! 
The soldier is in fury ; now Pro gmd [Noise wi- 
thin. 
Tis done before he comes. This way for me, 
The way of toil ; for thee, the way of honour ! 

[Esit. 

Enter Dftusius and Regulus, with soldiers. 

Sold. Kill him, kill him, kill him ! 
, DrvjL What will ye do ? 

Reg. Good soldiers, honest soldiers 

Sold. Kill him, kill him, kill him! 

Drat** Kill us first ; we command too. 

Reg. Valiant soldiers, 
Consider but whose life ye seek* — Oh, Drnsius, 
Bid him be gone ; he dies else. — Shall Home say, 
Ye most approved soldiers, her dear children 
Devoured the fathers of the fight? shall rage 
And stubborn fury guide those swords to slough* 

x ter, 
To slaughter of their own, to civil ruin ? 

Drus. Oh, let them in; all's done* alFs ended, 
Regulus; 
Penius has found his last ecHpse. Come, soldiers, 
Come, and behold your miseries ; come bravely. 
Full of your mutinous and bloody angers, 
And here bestow your darts. Oh, only Roman I 
Oh,' father of the wars ! 
. Reg. Why stand ye stupid ? 
Where be your killing furies ? whose sword now 
Shall first be sheathed in Penius? Do ye weep ? 
Ilqwlout, ye wretches ! ye have cause; howl ever ! 
Who shall now lead ye fortunate ? whose valour 
Prese/ve ye to the glory of your country ? 
Who shall inarch out before ye, toyed and courted 
By all the mistresses of war, Care, Counsel, 
Quick-eyed Experience, and Victory twined to 

lum? 
Who shall beget ye deeds beyond inheritance 
To speak your names, and keep your honours li~ 

O 



154 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Beaumont 4 



When children fail, and Time, that takes all with 

him, 
Build houses fbr ye to oblivion ? 

Drus. Oh, ye poor desperate fools, no more 

now soldiers, 
Go home, and hang your arms up ; let rust rot 

them; 
And humble your stern valours to soft prayers ! 
For ye have sunk the frame of all your virtues ; 
The sun, that warmed your bloods, is set for ever. 
Ill kiss thy honoured cheek. Farewell, great Pe- 

nius, 
Thou thunderbolt, farewell! — Take up the body: 
To-morrow, mourning, to the camp convey it, 
There to receive due ceremonies. That eye 
That blinds itself with weeping, gets most glory. 

[Exeunt with a dead march. 

t,nter Suetonis, Junius, Dec i us, Demetrius, 
Curius, and Soldiers : Bonduca, two Daugh- 
ters, and Nen n i us above. Drum and colours. 

Suet. Bring up the catapults, and shake the wall ; 
We will not be outbraved thus. 

Nen. Shake the earth, 
Ye cannot shake our souls. Bring up your rams, 
And with their armed heads make the fort totter, 
Ye do but rock us into death. [Exit Nen. 

Jun. See, sir, 
See the Icenian queen in all her glory, 
From the strong battlements proudly appearing. 
As if she meant to give us lashes ! 

Dec. Yield, queen. 

Bond. I am unacquainted with that language, 
Roman. 

Suet. Yield, honoured lady, and expect our 
mercy; 
We love thy nobleness. [Exit Decius. 

Bond. I thank ye ! ye say well ; 
But mercy and love are sins in Rome and hell. 

Suet. You cannot escape our strength; you 
must yield, lady ; 
You must adore and fear the power of Rome* 

Bond. If Rome be earthly, why should any knee 
With bending adoration worship her ? 
She's vicious ; and, your partial selves confess, 
Aspires the height of all impiety ; 
Therefore 'tis fitter I should reverence 
The thatched houses, where the Britons dwell 
'In careless mirth ; where the blessed household 

See nought but chaste and simple purity; 
Tis not high power that makes a place divine, 
Nor that the men from gods derive their line; 
But sacred thoughts, in holy bosoms stored, 
Make people noble, and the place adored. 

Suet. Beat the wall deeper! 

Bond. Beat it to the centre, 
We will not sink one thought 

Suet, HI make ye. 

Bond. No. 

« Dough. Oh, mother, these are fearful hours ; 
speak gently 



To these fierce men, they will afford ye pity. 

inter Petillius, whd whispers Suetonius. 

Bond. Pity ? Thou fearful girl, 'tis for those 
wretches, 
That misery makes tame; Wouldst thou live leas? 
Wast not thou born a princess? Can my Wood, 
And thy brave father's spirit, suffer in thee 
So base a separation from thyself, 
As mercy from these tyrants? Say they htd 

mercy, 
The devil a relenting conscience, 
The lives of kings rest in their diadems. 
Which to their bodies lively souls do give, 
And, ceasing to be kings, they cease to live. 
Shew such another fear, and, by the gods, 
I'll fling thee to their fury. 

Suet. He b dead then ? 

Pet. I think so certainly ; yet all my means, sir, 
Even to the hazard of my lif e 

Suet. No more : 
We must not seem to mourn here. 

Enter Decius. 

Dec. There is a breach made; 
Is it your will we charge, sir r 

Suet. Once more, mercy, 
Mercy to all that yield ! 

Bond; I scorn to answer; 
Speak to him, girl, and hear thy sister. 

1 Dough. General, 
Hear me, and mark me well, and look upon me, 
Directly in my face, my woman's face, 
Whose only beauty is the hate it bears ye ; 
See with thy narrowest eyes, thy sharpest wishes, 
Into my soul, and see what there inhabits; 
See if one fear, one shadow of a terror, 
One paleness dare appear but from my anger, 
To lay hold on your mercies. No, ye fools, 
Poor Fortune's fools, we were not born for tri- 
umphs, 
To follow your gay sports, and fill jour slaves 
With hoots and acclamations. 

Pet. Brave behaviour ! 

1 Dough. The children of as great as Some, 
as noble, 
Our names before her, and our deeds her envy, 
Must we gild o'er your conquest, make your state, 
That is not fairly strong, but fortunate ? 
No, no, ye Romans ! We have ways to escape ye. 
To make ye poor again, indeed our prisoners, 
And stick our triumphs fulL 

Pet. *Sdeath, I shall love her. 

1 Daugh. To torture ye with suficrint> fib 
our slaves; 
To make ye curse our patience, wish the world 
Were lost again, to win us only, and esteem 
The end of all ambitions. 

Bond. Do ye wonder ? 
Well make our monuments in spite of fortune; 
In spite of all your eagles' wings, we'll work 
A pitch above ye; and from our heart well stoop 



Fletcheb.J 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



155 



As fevies of your bloody soars, and fortunate, 
As if we preyed on heartless doves. 

Suet. Strange stiffness ! 
Beans, go charge the breach. '** [Exit Deckts. 

Bond. Charge it home, Roman ; 
We shall deceive thee else. Where's Nennius ? 

Enter Nennius. 

Nen. They have made a mighty breach. 
Bond. Stick in thy body, 
And make it good but half an hour. 
Nen. Ill do it 

1 Dawk. And then be sure to die. 
Hen. It shall go hard else. 

Bond. Farewell, with all my heart ! We shall 
meet yonder, 
Whan few of these must come. 
Nen. Gods take thee, lady ! [Exit Nennius. 
Bond. Bring up the swords, and poison. 

Enter one with swords and a great cup. 

2 Dough. Oh, my fortune ! 
AwiHow, how? 

2 Dough. Good mother, nothing to offend you. 
Bond. Here, wench ; 
BeaoJd os, Romans ! 

Suet. Mercy yet 
i Bond. No talking ! 

Puff! there goes all your pity. Come, short 

prayers, 
And let us dispatch the business ! You begin ; 
Shrink not, 111 see you do it 

2 Dough. Oh, gentle mother ! 
Oh, Romans ! Oh, my heart ! I dare pot. 

Suet. Woman, woman, 
Unnatural woman ! 

2 Dough. Oh, persuade her, Romans ! 
Alas, Pm young, and would live. Noble mother, 
Can ye kill that, ye gave life ?- Are my years 
Pit (or destruction ? 

Suet. Yield, and be a queen still, 
A mother, and a friend. 

Bond. Ye talk ! Come, hold it, 
And put it home, 

1 Dough. Fy, sister, fy ! 
What would you live to be ? 

2 Dough. Mercy ! ' 
Suet. Hear her, thou wretched woman ! 

2 Dough. Mercy, mother ! 
Oh, whither will you send me ? I was once 
Your darting, your delight 

Bond. Oh, gods ! fear in my family ? 
Do it, and nobly. 

S Dough. Oh, do not frown, then. 

1 Dough. Do it, worthy sister; 

lis nothing; 'tis a pleasure : Well go with you. 

2 Dough. Oh, if I knew but whither ! 
1 Dough. To the blessed; 

Where we shall meet our rathe r  
Suet. Woman! 
Bond. Talk not 
t Dough. Where nothing but true joy i a 



Bond. That's a food wench ! 
Mine own sweet girl ! put it olose to thee, 

2 Daugh. Oh, [Stabs herself. 

Comfort me still, for heaven's sake. 

1 Daugh. Where eternal 

Our youths are, and our beauties ; where no wars 
come. 

2 Daugh. A long farewell to this world 1 [Dies. 
Bond. Good ; 1 11 help thee. 

1 Daugh. The next is mine. Shew me a Ro- 
man lady, [Stabs herself. 
In all your stones, dare do this for her honour ; 
They are cowards, eat coals like compelled cats : 
Your great saint, Lucrece, 
Died not for honour. 

Pet. By heaven, 
I am in love ! I would give an hundred pound 

now 
But to lie with this woman's behaviour. Oh, the 
devil ! ' 

1 Daugh. Ye shall see my example : All your 
Rome, 
If I were proud and loved ambition, 
If I were greedy, all the wealth ye conquer—-— 

Bond. Make haste. 

1 Dough. I will— could not entice to live, 
But two short hours, this frailty. Would ye learn 
How to die bravely, Romans, to fling off 
This case of flesh, lose all your cares for ever ? 
live, as we have done, well, and fear the gods ; 
Hunt honour, and not nations, with your swords ; 
Keep your minds humble, your devotions high ; 
So snail ye learn the noblest part to die. [Dies. 

Bond. I come, wench. — To ye all, Fate's hang- 
men, you, 
That ease the aged destinies, and cut 
The threads of kingdoms as they draw them ! 

here, m ^ 

Here is a draught would ask no less than Caesar 
To pledge it for the glory's sake ! 

Cur. Great lady ! 

Suet. Make up your own conditions. 

Bond. So we will. 

Suet. Stay I 

Dem. Stay! 

Suet. Be any thing. 

Bond. A saint, Suetonius, 
When thou shalt fear, and die like a slave. Ye 

fools, 
Ye should have tiec] up death first, when ye con- 
quered: 
Ye sweat for us in vain else : See him herej[Drinks. 
He's' ours ; and still our friend ; laughs at your 

pities ; 
And we command him with as easy reins 
As do our enemies. — I feel the poison. — 
Poor vanquished Romans, with what matchless 

tortures 
Could I now rack ye ! But I pity ye, 
Desiring to die quiet : Nay, so much 
I hate to prosecute my victory, 
That I wui give ye counsel ere I die : 



156 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



[Bea^mo*t$ 



If you will keep your laws and empire whole,' 
Place in your Roman flesh & Briton soul [Dies. 

Enter Decius. , 

> 

Suet. Desperate and strange ! 
Dec. Tie won, sir, and the Britons 
All put to the sword. 
Suet. Give her fair funeral ; 



She-was 'truly noble* and a queen. 

Pet. Pox take it, 
A love-mange grown upon me? What a spirit ! 

Jun. I am glad of this ! X have found you. 

Pet In my belly, 
Oh, how it tumbles ! 

Jun. Ye good gods, I thank ye ! [Exeunt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. 



Caratach upon a rocky and Hengo by him 

sleeping. 

Cur. Thus we afflicted Britons climb for safe- 
ties, 
And to avoid bur dangers, seek destructions ; 
Thus we awake to sorrows. Oh, thou woman, 
Thou agent for adversities, what curses 
This day belong to thy improvidence ! 
To Britain, by thy means, what sad millions 
Of widows' weeping eyes 2 The. strong man's va- 
lour 
Thou hast betrayed to fury, the child's fortune 
To fear, and want of friends, whose pieties 
Might wipe his mournings oflj and build his sor- 
rows 
A house of rest by his blessed ancestor*: 
The virgins thou hast robbed of -all their wishes, 
Blasted their blowing hopes, turned their songs, 
Their mirthful marriage-songs* to funerals; 
The land thou hast left 4. wilderness of wretches. 
The boy begins to stir ; thy safeW made, 
'Would my soul were in Heaven f 

Hengo. Oh, noble uncle, 
Look out ; I dreamed we were betrayed. 

Car. No harm, boy ; [A toft dead march within. 
Tis but thy emptiness that breeds these fancies : 
Thou shalt have meat anon. 

Hengo. A Tittle, uncle, 
And I shall hold out bravely.— What are those, 
(Look, uncle, look !) those multitudes that march 

there ! 
They come upon us stealing by. 

Car. I see them ; 
And prithee be not fearful. 

Hengo. Now you hate me ; 
Would I <were dead ! 

Car. Thou knowest I love thee dearly. 

Hengo. Did lever shrink yet, uncle? Were 
i amannpw, 
I should be angry with you. 

Enter Drusius, Regulus, and Soldiers, with 
Penius's hearse drums, and colours. 

Car. My sweet chicken ! — 
See, they have reached us; and, as it seems, they 

bear 
Some soldier's body, by their solemn gestures, 
And sad solemnities; it well appears, too? 



To be of eminence.— Most worthy soldiers. 
Let me entreat your knowledge to inform me 
What noble body that is, which you bear 
With such a sad and ceremonious grief, 
As if ye meant to woo the world and nature, 
To be in love with death ! Most honourable, 
Excellent Romans, by your ancient valours, 
As ye love fame, resolve me ! 

Sold, Tis the body 
Of the great captain Penius, by himself ' 
Made cold and spiritless. 

Car. Oh, stay, ye Romans, 
By the religion, which ye owe those gods, 
That lead ye on to victories ! by those glories, " 
Which made even pride a virtue in ye ! 

Drus. Stay. ! 

What is.thy will, Caratach? 

Car. Set down the body, 
The bodjr of the noblest of all Romans; 
As ye expect an offering aft your graves 
From your friends' sorrows, set it down awhile, 
That with your griefs an enemy may mingle, 
(A noble enemy, that loves a soldier) 
And lend a tear to virtue ! Even your foes, 
Your wild foes, as you called us, are yet stored 
With fair affections, onr hearts fresh, our spirited 
Though sometime stubborn, yet when virtue dies,' 
Soil and relenting as a virgin's prayers : 
Oh, set it down! 

Drus, Set down the body, soldiers. 

Car. Thou hallowed relic, thou rich diamond, 
Cut with thine own dust; thou, for 'whose wide 

fame ' 

The world appears too narrow, man's alhthou^tsj 
Had they all tongues, too silent : thus I bow 
To thy most honoured ashes ! Though an enemy, 
Yet friend to all thy worths* sleep peaceably;. 
Happiness crown my.sdul, and in thy earth - 
Some laurel fix his seat,' there gnaw nod flourish, 
And make: thy grave an everlasting ttitimjfthl ' 
Farewell all glorious wars, now thou ait gone* 
And honest arms, adieu! All noble hatttea, 
: Maintained in thintief honour, not of blooc* 
( EsarewieU for everl • 

Heng&. Was thia Roman, uncle, 
So good a man ? 

Car. Thou -never, iknewest thy father. 

Hengo. He died before I was born. 

Car. This worthy Roman 
Was such another -piece of- endless honour, 



Plsxqhii.] 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



157 



Sack a bare soul dwelt in him ; their propor- 
tions 

And 699 were not. much unlike, boy. Excel- 
lent nature ! 
Sae how i* works into his eye* ! mine own hov! 
jfago, Hie multitudes of these men, and their 
fortunes, 
Could never make me fear yet; one man's good- 



Car. Ofa, now thou pleasest me; weep still, 
my child, 
A* if thou sawest me dead ! with such a flux 
Or flood of sorrow ; still thou pleasest me. 
And, wo/thy soldiers, pray receive these pledges, 
These hatchments of our griefs, and grace us 50 

much 
To place them on bis hearse. Now, if ve please, 
Bear aff the noble burden : raise his pile 
High ss Olympus, making heaven to wonder, 
To see a star upon earth outshining theirs : 
Aad ever-loved, ever-living be 
Iky honoured aad most sacred memory 1 
Urus. Thou hast done honestly, good Cara- 
4ach; 
And when thou diest, a thousand virtuous Romans 
Shall aing thy soul to heaven. Now march on, 
soldiers. [Exeunt. 4 dead march. 

Car. Now dry thine eyes, my boy. 
Hengo. Are they all gone ? 
I could have wept "this hour yet. 

Car. Come, take cheer, 
And raise thy spirit, child ; if but this day 
Thou cajricst bear out thy ifcintness, the night co- 
ming, 
111 fashion our escape. 

Hengo. Pray fear not me ; 
Indeed I am very hearty. 

Car. Be so still ; 
Pis mischiefs lessen, that controuls his ill. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE H. 

Enter Petiluvs. 

Pet. What do I ail, in the name of heaven ? 

I did but see her 
And see her die ; she stinks by this time strongly, 
Ahounnably stinks. She was a woman, 
A tinajg I never cared for; .but to die so, 
60 confidently, bravely, strongly — Oh, the devil, 
I have the bots! by heaven, she scorned us 

strangely, 
AH we could do, or durst do : threatened us 
Wrthsucha yohie an^er, and so governed 
Wkh-ench a jfiery spirit-— The plain bots ! 
A pojc upon the bots, the|ove-botsI Hang me, 
Hang me even out of- the way, directly hang me ! 
Oh» .peutay: pipers, and most painful nenners 
Of bountiful new ballads, what a suoject, 
What a sweet subject for your silver sounds, 
Ji crept upon ye! 



Enter Junius. 
Jim. Here he is ; have at him 1 



[Sings. 



She §et the sword unto her breast, 

Great pity it was to see. 
That three drops of her life-warm bloody 

Run trickling down her knee. 

Art thou there, bonny boy ? And, in faith, how 
dost thou ? 
Pet. Well, gramercy ^ how dost thou ? He has 
found me, 
Scented me out ; the shame the devil owed me, 
He has kept his day with. And what news, Ju- 
nius? 
Jun. It was an old tale ten thousand times told, 

8 r a young lady was turned into mould, 
er life it was lovely, her death it was bold. 

Pet. A cruel rogue ! now he has drawn pur- 
suit on me, 
He hunts me like a devil. No more singing ! 
Thou hast got a cold: Come, let us go drink some 
sack, boy. 

Jun. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Pet. Why dost thou laugh ? 
What mare s nest hast thou found ? 

Jun. Ha, ha, ha ! 
I cannot laugh alone : Decks ! Demetrius ! 
Curius ! oh, my sides ! ha, ha, ha, ha ! 
The strangest jest ! 

Per. Prithee no more. 

Jun. The admirablest fooling ! 

Pet. Thou art the prettiest fellow ! 

Jun. Sirs ! 

Pet. Why, Junius, 
Prithee away, sweet Junius ! 

Jun. Let me sing then. 

Pet. Whoa, here's a stir now ! Sing a song of 
sixpence ! 
By heaven, if — prithee— pox on't, Junius ! 

Jun. I must either sing or laugh. 

Pet. And whatfs your reason ? 

Jun. What's that to you ? 

Pet. And I must whistle. 

Jun. Do so. 
Oh, I hear them coming. 

Pet. I have a little business. 

Jun. Thou shalt not go, believe it : What ! a 
gentleman 
Of thy sweet conversation ? 
* Per. Captain Junius, 
Sweet captain, let me go with all celerity ! 
Things are not always one ; and do not Question, 
Nor jeer, nor gibe : None of your doleful ditties, 
Nor your sweet conversation : you will find then 
I may be angered. 

Jun. By no means, Petillius ; 
Anger a man that never knew passion ? 
Tis most impossible : A noble captain, 
A wise and generous gentleman f 



158 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont & 



Pet. Tom Puppy, 
Leave this way to abuse mc : I have found you, 

?ut, for your mother's sake, I will forgive you. 
our subtle understanding may discover, 
As you think, some trim toy to make you merry, 
Some straw to tickle you ; but do not trust to it ; 
You are a young man, and may do well ; be sober, 
Carry yourself discreetly. 

Enter Decius, Demetrius, and Cum us. 

Jun. Yes, forsooth. 

Dem. How does the brave Petillius I 

Jun. Monstrous merry. 
We two were talking what a kind of thing 
I was, when I was in love ; what a strange mon- 
ster 
For little boys and girls to wonder a.t ; 
How like a fool I looked ! 

Dec. So they do all, 
Like great dull slavering fools. 

Jun. Petillius saw too. 

Pet. No more of this ; it is scurvy ; peace ! 

Jun. How nastily, 
Indeed how beastly, all I did became me ! 
How I forgot to blow my nose ! There he stands, 
An honest and a wise man ; if himself 
(I dare avouch it boldly, for I know it) 
Should find himself in love 

Pet. I am angry. 

Jun. Surely 
His wise self would hang his beastly self; 
His understanding self so maul his ass self- 



Dec. He is bound to do it ; for he knows the 
follies, 

The poverties, and baseness, that belong to it ; 
He has read upon the reformations long. 

Pet. He has so. 

Jun. Tis true, and he must do it : Nor is it 
fit, indeed, 
Any such coward 

Pet. You'll leave prating ? 

Jun. Should dare 
Come near the regiments, especially 
Those curious puppies (for believe there are 

such) 
That only love behaviour: Those are dog-whelps, 
Dwindle away because a woman dies well ; 
Commit with passions only ; fornicate 
With the free spirit merely. You, Petillius, 
For you have long observed the world 

Pet. Dost thou hear? 
I'll beat thee damnably within these three hours! 
Go pray; may be I'll kill thee. Farewell, jack- 
daws ! 

Dec. What a strange thing he is grown ! 

[Exit Pet. 

Jun. I am glad he is so ; 
And stranger ne shall be before I leave him. 

Cur. Is it possible her mere deat h 

Jun. I observed him, 
And found him taken, infinitely taken, 
With her bravery; I have followed him, 



And seen him kiss his sword since, court k» 

scabbard, 
Call dying dainty dear, her brave ikind mistress; 
Casting a thousand ways to give those forms, 
That he might lie with them, and get old annooni 
He had got me on the hip once; it shall go bard, 

friends, 
But he shall find his own com. 

Enter Macer. 

Dec. How now, Macer ? 
Is Judas yet come in ? 

Jlnter Judas. 

Macer. Yes, and has lost 
Most of his men too. Here he is. 

Cur. What news ? 

Judas. I've lodged him ; rouse him, he mat dares! 

Dem. Where, Judas? 

Judas. On a steep rock in the woods, the boy 
too with him ; 
And there he swears hell keep his Christmas, 

gentlemen, 
But he will come away with full conditions, 
Bravely, and like a Briton. He paid part of as ; 
Yet I think we fought bravely : For mine ows 

I was four several times at half-sword with 
him, 

Twice stood his partizan ; but the plain truth is, 

He's a mere devil, and no man. In the end, he 
swinged us, 

And swinged us soundly too : He fights by witch- 
craft; 

Yet, for all that, I saw him lodged. 
Jun. Take more men, 

And scout him round. Macer, march you along. 

What victuals has he ? 
Judas. Not a piece of biscuit, 

Not so inuch as will stop a tooth, nor water, 

More than they make themselves : They lie 

Just like a brace of bear whelps, close, and crafty, 

Sucking their fingers for their food. 
Dec. Cut off, then. 

All hope of that way ; take sufficient forces. 
Jun. But use no foul play, on your lives! that 
man, 

That does him mischief by deceit, FU kill him. 
Macer. He shall have fair play; he deserves it 
Judas. Hark ye ! 

What should I do there then? You are brave cap- 
tains, 

Most valiant men : Go up yourselves; use virtue, 

See what will come on't; pray the gentleman 

To come down, and be taken. Ye all know him, 

I think ye've felt him too ! There ye .shall find 
him, 

His sword by his side, plumbs of a pound weigat 
by him, 

Will make your chops ache ! You'll find it a more 
labour 

To win him living, than HimKing of a crow's nest 



Fletchei.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



159 



Dec, Away, and compass) him; we shall come 
Fd sore, within these two hours. Watch him 



Mactr. He shall flee through the air, if he es- 



Jm. 



opens. 

What's 



this loud lamentation? 

[Sod noise mithim 
Macer. The dead body 
OfoWgreatPemusisiiewconietothecamp, sir. 
AflaDead? 

Mactr . Bj himself, they say. 
Jra. I feared that fortune. 
Car. Peace guide him up to heaven ! 
As. Away, good Macer. 

[Exe. Macer and Judas, 

2aferSuzT0vius,Dau9ius, Reoulus, aitO* PE- 
TILLIUS. 

Serf. If thou be'st piilty, 
Some soften plague, thou West most, light upon 

fcuce . 
The regiment return on Junius ; 
He wdl deserves it. 
Per. So! 

Suet. Draw out three companies, 
(Yours, Decius, Junius, and tnou, Petillius) 
And make up instantly to Caratach ; 
He's ia the wood before ye: We shall follow, 
After due ceremony done to the dead, 
The noble dead Come, let's go burn the body. 

[Exeunt all but Petillius. 
Pet. The regiment given from me ? disgraced 
openly ? 
In love too with a trifle to abuse me ? 
A merry world, a One world ! served seven years 
To be an ass of both sides ? sweet Petillius, 
Tea have brought your hogs to a fine market ! 

you are wise, sir, 
Toot honourable brain-pan full of crotchets, 
An understanding gentleman ; your projects 
Cast with asaurance«ver ! Wouldst not thou now 
Be banged about the pate, Petillius ! 
Answer to that, sweet soldier ! surely, surely, 
I think wju would ; pulled by the nose, kicked ? 

hang thee, 
Tboa art the arrantest rascal ! Trust thy wisdom 
With any thins; of weight? the wind with feathers ! 
Oat, ye« blind poppy ! you command ? you go- 
vern? 
Dig for a groat a-day, or serve a swine-herd, 
Too noble for thy nature too !— I must up ; 
fttt what I shall do there, let time discover. 

[Exit. 

SCENE m. 

Eater Mace* and Judas, frith meat and a bottle. 

Macer. Hang it on the side of the rock, as 
though the Britons 
Stole hither to relieve him : Who first ventures 
To fetch it off, is ours. I cannot see bun. 



Judos. He lies close in a hole above, I know it, 
Gnawing upon his anger. Ha ! no ; 'tis not he. 

Macer. Tis but the shaking of the boughs 

Judas. Pox shake them ! 
Tm sure they shake me soundly.— -There ! 

Macer. lis nothing; 

Judas. Make no noise ; if he stir, a deadly tern* 
pest 
Of huge somes falls upon us. lis done ! away, 
close ! [Exeunt. 

Enter Caratacb\ 

Car. Sleep still, sleep sweetly, child ; 'tis all 
thou feedest on. 
No gentle Briton near, no valiant charity, 
To bring thee food ? Poor knave* thou art sick* 

extreme sick, 
Almost gcown wild for meat; and yet thy good- 
ness 
Will not confess, nor shew it All the woods 
Are double lined with soldiers ; no way left us 
To make a noble escape. I'll sit down by thee, 
And, when thou wakest, either get meat to save 

thee, 
Or lose my life in the purchase; good gods com* 
fort thee 1 

SCENE IV. 

Enter Junius, Decius, Petillius, and Guide* 

Guide* You are not far off now, sir. 

Jam Draw the companies 
The closest way through the woods ; we'll keep 
on this way. 

Guide. I will, sir : Half a furlong more you'll 
come * 

Within the sight of the rock. Keep on the left 

side; 
You'll be discovered else : I'll lodge your com- 
panies 
In the wild vines beyond ye. 

Dec. Do you mark him ? 

Jun. Yes, and am sorry for him. 

Pet. Junius, 
Pray let me speak two words with you. 

Juiu Walk afore; 
HI overtake you straight* 

Dec. I will. [Exit. 

Jun. Now, captain ? 

Pet. You have oft told me, you have loved rae, 
Junius. 

Jun. Most sure I told you truth then. 

Pet. And that your love 
Should not deny me any honest thing. 

Jun. It shall not 

Pet. Dare you swear it? 
I have forgot all passages between us 
That have been ill, forgiven too ; forget you. 

Jun. What would this man have? — By the 
gods, I do, sir, 
So it be fit to grant you. 

Pet. Tis most honest. 



160 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



BbAQHOKT £ 



. Jun. Why, then HI do it. 

Per. Kill me. 

Jun. How ! 

Pet. Pray kill me. 

Jiin. Kill you ? 

Pel. Ay, kill me quickly, suddenly ; 
Now kill me. 

Jun. On what reason ? You amaze me ! 

Pet. If you do love me, kill me ; ask me not 
why: 
I would be killed, and by you. 

Jun. Mercy on mc ! 
What aits this man ? Petillius ! 

Pet. Pray you dispatch mc ; 
You are not safe, whilst I live : I am dangerous,' 
Troubled extremely, even to mischief, Junius, 
An enemy to all good men. Fear not ; 'tis jus- 
tice; 
I shall kill you else. 

Jun. Tell me but the cause, 
And I will do it. 

Pet. lam disgraced, my service 
Slighted and unrewarded by the general, 
My hopes left wild and naked ; besides these, 
I am grown ridiculous, an ass, a folly, 
I dare not trust myself with : Prithee, kill me ! 

Jun. AH these may be redeemed as easily 
As you would heal your finger. 

Pet. Nay 

Jun. Stay, Til do it; 
You shall not need your anger. But first, Petillws, 
You shall unarm yourself; I dare not trust 
A man so bent to mischief. 

Pet. There's my sword, 
And do it handsomely. 

Jun. Yes, I will kill you, 
Believe that certain; but' first 111 lay before you 
The most extreme fool you have played in this, 
The honour purposed for you, the great honour 
The general intended you. 

Pet. How ? 

Jun. And then 111 kill you, 
Because you shall die miserable. Know, sir, ' 
The regiment was given me, but 'till time 
Called you to do some worthy deed, might stop 
The peoples' ill thoughts of you for lord Penius, 
I mean his death. How soon this time's come to 

you, 
And hasted by Suetonius! 4 Go, says he, 
Junius and Decius, and go thou, Petillius, 
(Distinctly, thou, Petillius) and draw up, 
To take stout Caratach ; there's the deed pur- 
posed, 
A deed to take off all faults* of all natures : 
And thou, Petillius, mark it ! there's the honour ; 
And that done, all made even. 

Pet. Stay ! 

Jun. No, HI kill you. 
He knew thee absolute, and full in soldier, 
Daring beyond all dangers, found thee out 
According to the boldness of thy spirit, 
A subject, such a subject 

3 



Pet. Hait yo% Junius! . 
I will live now. 

Jun. By no means — wooed thy worth, 
Held thee by the chin up, as thou sunkest, and 

shewed thee 
How honour held her arms out. Cone, make 

ready, 
Since you will die an ass. 

Pet. Thou wilt not kill me ? 

Jun. By heaven, bull willy, sir. Ill -bar* no 
roan dangerous 
Live to destroy me afterward: Besides, wis tare 

gotten 
Honour enough-; - let young men rise now, Nay, 
I do perceive too by the general, (which is 
One main cause you shall die, however he car- 
ry it) 
Such a strong doting on you, that I fear 
You shall command in chief; how ate we paid 

then? 
Come, if you'll pray, dispatch it. 

Pet. Is there no way r 

Jun. Not any way to live. 

Pet. I will do any thing, 
Redeem myself at any price : Good Junky 
Let me but die upon the rock, but oiler 
My life up like a soldier ! 

Jun. You will seek then 
To out*do every man. 

Pet. Believe it, Junius, 
You shall go stroke by stroke with me. 

Junj You'll leave off too, 
As you are noble, and a soldier, 
For ever these mad fancies ? 

Pet. Dare you trust me ? 
By all that is good and honest— 

Jun. There's your sword then ; 
And now, come on, a new man : Virtue guide 
thee ! [Exeunt. 

Enter Caratach and Hen go, on the rock. 

Cor. Courage, my boy ! I hare found meat: 
Look, Hengo, 
Look where some blessed Briton, to preserve thee, 
Has hung a little food and drink: Cheer up, boy; 
Do not forsake me now ! 

Hengo. Oh, uncle, uncle, 
I feel f cannot stay lonp; yet 111 fetch it, 
To keep your noble life. Uncle, I am heart* 

whole, 
And would live. 

Car. Thou shalt, long, I hope. 

Hengo. But my head, uncle ! 
Methinks the rock goes round. 

Enter Macfr and Judas. 

Macer. Mark them well, Judas. 

Judas. Peace, as you love your life ! 

Hengo. Do not you hear 
The noise of bells r 

Car. Of ben's, boy? Tis thy fancy; 
Alas, thy body's full of wind 



Fletchu.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



tfl 



Hengo. Methinks, sir, 
Theyriag a strange sad knell, a preparation 
To some near funeral of state : Nay, weep not, 
Mioe own sweet uncle ! you will kill me sooner. 
Ctr. Oh, niv poor chicken ! 
Hengo. Fy I faint-hearted, uncle ? 
Come, tie me in your belt, and let me down, 
Car. Ill go myself, boy. 
Hengo. No, as you love me, uncle ! 
I mil not eat it, if I do not fetch it ; 
The danger only I desire ; pray tie me. 
Cor. f will, and all my care hang over thee ! 
Come, child, 
Myraliant child ! 

Hengo. Let me down apace, uncle, 
And you shall see how like a daw FH whip it 
From all their policies ; for 'tis most certain 
A Roman train : And you must hold me sure too. 
You'll spoil all else. When I have brought it, uncle, 

Well be as merry 

Ctr. Go, in the name of Heaven, boy ! 
Hengo. Quick, quick, quick, uncle ! I have it Oh ! 
Car. What aiTst thou ! [Judas shoots Hengo. 
Hengo. Oh, my best uncle, I am slain ! 
Cor. I see yon, [Car. kills Judas with a stone. 
And heaven direct my hand ! — Destruction 
Go with thy coward soul ! How dost thou boy ? 
Oh, villain, pocky villain ! 

Hengo. Oh, uncle, uncle, 
Oh, how it pricks me — ami preserved for this ? — 
Extremely pricks me ! 

Car. Coward, rascal coward ! 
Hop eat thy flesh ! 
Hengo. Ob, I bleed hard; I faint too; out 
upon it, 
How sick I am ! The lean rogue, uncle ! 

Car. Look, boy ; 
I have laid him sure enough. 
Hengo. Have you knocked his brains out ? 
Car. I warrant thee for stirring more : Cheer 

up, child. 
Hengo. Hold my sides hard ; stop, stop ; oh, 
wretched fortune, 
Host we part thus? Still I grow sicker, uncle. 
Car. Heaven look upon this noble child ! 
Hengo. I once hoped 
I should have lived to have met these bloody 

Romans 
At ray sword's point, to have revenged my father, 
To have beaten them. Oh, hold me hard ! But, 

uncle 

Car. Thou shalt live still, I hope, boy. Shall I 

draw it? 
Hengo. You draw away my soul, then; I 
would live 
A little longer, (spare me, Heavens !) but only 
To thank you for your tender love ! Good uncle, 
Good noble uncle, weep not ! 

Car. Oh, my chicken, 
My dear boy, what shall I lose ? 

Hengo. Why, a child, 
That must have died however ; had this escaped me, 
Vol.L 



Fever or famine- 



-I was born to die, sir. 



Car. But thus unblown, my boy? 

Hengo. I go the straighter 
My journey to the gods. Sure I shall know you, 
When you come, uncle ? 

Car. Yes, boy. 

Hengo. And I hope 
We shall enjoy together that great blessedness, 
You told me. off. 

Car. Most certain, child. 

Hengo. I grow cold ; 
Mine eyes are going. 

Car. lift them up ! 

Hengo. Pray for me ; 
And, noble uncle, when my bones are ashes, 
Think of your little nephew ! Mercy ! 

Car. Mercy! 
You blessed angels, take him ! 

Hengo. Kiss me ! so. 
Farewell, farewell ! [Dies. 

Car. Farewell the hopes of Britain ! 
Thou royal graft, farewell for ever ! Time and 

death. 
You have done your worst. Fortune, now see, 

now proudly 
Pluck off thy veil, and view thy triumph : Look, 
Look what thou hast brought this land to. Oh, 

fair flower, 
How lovely yet thy ruins shew, how sweetly 
Even death embraces thee ! The peace of heaven, 
Hie fellowship of all great souls, be with thee ! 

Enter Petillius and Juniu9 on the rock. 

Ha ! Dare ye, Romans ? Ye shall win me bravely. 
Thou art mine ! [Fight. 

Jan. Not yet, sir. 

Car. Breathe ye, ye poor Romans, 
And come up all, with all your antient valours; 
Like a rough wind I'll shake your souls, and send 
them — 

Enter Suetonius, and all the Roman captains. 

Suet. Yield thee, bold Caratach ! By all the gods, 
As I am soldier, as I envy thee, 
Til use thee like thyself, thou valiant Briton. 

Pet. Brave soldier, yield, thou stock of arms 
and honour, 
Thou filler of the world with fame and glory ! 

Jun. Most worthy man, well woo thee, be 
thy prisoners. 

Suet. Excellent Briton, do me but that honour, 
That more to me than conquest, that true happi- 
ness, 
To be my friend ! 

Car. Oh, Romans, see what here is ! 
Had this boy lived 

Suet. For fame's sake, for thy sword's sake, 
As thou desirest to build thy virtues greater ! 
By all that's excellent in man, and honest 



Car. I do believe. Ye've made me a brave foe; 
Make me a noble friend, and from your goodness. 
Give this boy honourable earth to lie in, ! 

P 



I6fi 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Beaumont ^ 



Suet, He mMu have fitting ftineral. 

Car. I yield ten; 
Not to your blows, bat your brave courtesies. 

Pet. Tiros we conduct, then, to the arms of 
peace, 
The wonder of the world ! 

Suet. Thus I embrace thee; [Fhmrish. 

And let it be no lattery, that I tell thee, 
Thou art the only soldier ! 

Car. How to thank ye, 
J must hereafter find upon your usage. 
I am for Rome ? 

Suet. You must 



Car. Then Rome shall know 
The man, that makes her spring of glory grow. 

Suet. Petillius, you have shewn much worth 
this day, 
Redeemed much error ; vou have my love spin; 
Preserve it. Junius, with you I make biai 
Equal in the regiment. 

Jun. The elder and the nobler ; 
I will give place, sir. 

Suet. You shew a friend's soul. 
March on, and through the camp, m every tongue. 
The virtues of great Caratach be sung! [£m*»*. 



THE 



RIVAL QUEENS; 



OK, 



THE DEATH OF ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 



BY 



NATHANfBL LEE. 



DRAMATIS PERSONA. 



MEN. 

ALEXmEft TftB G*EAY. 

Clytvs, matter e/tfe tone. 
LniMumv% pthtum of the #4*4 
HiniBtriaN, Alexander** favourite. 
Casuhdsil, mm of <4**tp**ir, -\ 

Phalanx* > amjpirelflr j. 

Pijlip, anther l» Cauanaer* \ 
Tbes&alus tie Alftf*** J 

Peidiccas,. \ 

EuMEKESy >£*m* ooawaQaVr*. 
Meleagek, 3 
Asistaxdeb, a eeetfjajM* 



WOMBN. 

» 

Sy9igambis, mother of the royal family 
Statira, daughter of Dariu^ worried to 

Alexander. 
Roxana, daughter of Cohortanns > first wife of 

Alexander. 
Pari sat is, tister to Statira* * n ^° ve »*** 

Attendant* Stag* Ghotf> Dumps, Gvaray. 



Stem,-*- Babylon* 



=F 



ACT I. 



SCENES 



&fer Hepuestkw, Lysim achws, fighting ;. 
Clttus parting them. 

Cly. What, ace you madmen ? Jui ! — Put up, 
I sa y — 
Then, mischief a in the bosom of you both. 
hyu I have his sword* 
Cly. But must not have his life. 
Ims, Must not, old Clytus ? 
Cly. Mad Lysimachus, you must not. 



Hep*. Coward (teshl O feeble am I 
He daHied with my point, and whe* I 
He frowned and smiled, and failed me hae %fi 
O reverend Clytus, mthev of the war, 
Most famous guard of AlexanderV life, 
Take pity on my youth, and leo4 a sword: 
Lysimacnus is brave, and will but scorn mo; 
Kill me, or let me fight with him attain. 

Lys. There, rake thy sword, and since thou art 
resolved 
For death, thou hast the noblest from my haa£ 



184 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lai. 



Cly. Stay thee, Lysimachus; Hephestion, hold; 
I bar you both, my body interposed. 
Now let me see, which of you dares to strike ! 
By Jove, ye have stirred the old man ; that rash 

arm, 
That first advances, moves against the gods, 
Against the wrath of Clytus, and the will 
Of our great king, whose deputy I stand. 

Ia/s. Well, I shall take another time. 

Heph. And I. 

Civ. Tis false. 
Another time, what time ? what foolish hour ? 
No- time shall see a brave man do amiss. 
And what's the noble cause, that makes this 

madness ? 
What big ambition blows this dangerous fire ? 
A Cupid's puff, is it not, woman's breath ? 
By all your triumphs in the heat of youth, 
When towns were sacked, and beauties prostrate 

When my blood boiled, and nature worked me 

high, 
Clytus ne'er bowed his body to such shame : 

The brave will scorn the cobweb arts The 

souls 
Of all that whining, smiling, cozening sex, 
Weigh not one thought of any man of war. 

Lys. I confess our vengeance was ill-timed. 

Cly. Death ! I had rather this right arm were 
lost, 
To which I owe my glory, than our king 

Should know your fault what, on this famous 

day? 

Heph. I was to blame. 

Cly. This memorable day, 
When our hot master, that would tire the world, 
Out-ride the labouring sun, and tread the stars, 
When he, inclined to rest, comes peaceful on. 
Listening to songs : while all his crumpets sleep, 
And plays with monarchs, whom he used to drive; 
Shall we begin disorders, make new broils ? 
We, that have temper learnt, shall we awake 
Hushed Mars, the lion, that had left to roar ? 

Lys. Tis true ; old Clytus is an oracle. 
Put up, Hephestion— did not passion blind 
My reason, I on such occasion'too 
Could thus have urged, 

Heph. Why is it then we love ? 

Cly. Because unmanned.  

Why, is not Alexander grown example ? 
O that a face should thus bewitch a soul, 
And rum all, that's right and reasonable ! 
Talk be my bane, yet the old man must talk : 
Not so he. loved, when he at Issus fought, 
And joined in mighty duel great Darius, 
Whom from his chariot, naming all with gems I 
He hurled to earthy and crushed the imperial I 

crown; 
Nor could the gods defend their images, 
Which with the gaudy coach lay overturned : 
Twas not the shaft of love, that did the feat; 
Cupid had nothing there to do ; but now 



Two wives he takes, two rival queens disturb 
The court; and while each hand does beanty hoW, 
Where is there room for glory ? 

Heph. In his heart. 

Cly. Well said. 
You are his favourite, and I had forgot 
Who I was talking to. See Sysigambis comes, 
Reading a letter to your princess ; go, 
Now make your claim, while I attend the king. 

]£xit. 

Enter Sysigambis, Parisatis. 

Par. Did not you love my father ? Yes, I see 
You did ; his very name but mentioned brings 
The tears, however unwilling, to your eyes. 
I loved him too ; he would not thus have forced 
My trembling heart, which your command, may 

break, 
But never bend. 

Sys. Forbear thy lost complaints ; 
Urge not a. suit, which I can never grant. 
Behold the royal signet of the king, 
Therefore resolve to be Hephestion's wife, 

Par. No ! since Lysimachus has won my heaxl 
My body shall be ashes, e'er another's. 

Sys. For sixty rolling years who ever stood 
The shock of state so unconcern'd as I ? 
This, whom I thought to govern, being young, 
Heaven, as a plague to power, has rendered strong; 
Judge my distresses, and my temper prize; 
Who, though unfortunate, would still be wise. 

Lys. To let you know, that misery doth sway 

[Both kneel 
An humbler fate than yours, see at your feet 
The lost Lysimachus : O mighty queen, 
I have but this to beg, impartial stand ; 
And, since Hephestion serves by your permissioD, 
Disdain not me, who ask your royal leave 
To cast a throbbing heart before her feet. 

Heph. A blessing, like possession of the pria- 
cess, 
No services, not crowns, nor all the blood, 
That circles in our bodies, can deserve : 
Therefore I take all helps, much more the king's, 
And what your majesty vouchsafed to give ; 
Your word is past, where all my hopes must hang. 

Lys. There perish too — all words want sense 
in love ; 
But love and I bring such a perfect passion, 
So nobly pure, 'tis worthy of her eyes, 
Which without blushing she may justly prize. 

Heph. Such arrogance, bhould Alexander woo, 
Would lose him all the conquests he has won. 

Lys. Let not a conquest once be named bj 

Who this dispute must to my mercy owe. 

Sy$< Rise, Drave Lysimachus, Hephestion, rise : 
Tis true Hephestion first declared nis love;- ; 
And 'tis as true r I promised him my aid ; 
Your glorious king turned mighty advocate. 
How noble, therefore, were the \ictory, 
If we could vanquish this disordered lore ? 



Lbs.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



165 



Hepk It will never be. 
Im. No, I will yet love en, 
Abo heir from Alexander's mouth, in what 
Heabestioo merits more than I. 

V I grieve, 
And fear the boldness, which your love inspires ; 
But fett her sight should haste' your enterprfoe, 
Tb just I take die object from your eyes. 

[Exeunt Sys. and Par. 

lyt She's gone, and see, the day, as if her look 
Had kindled it, is lost, now she is vanished. 

Hepk A sudden gloominess and horror comes 
About me. 

Uft. Let's away to meet the king ; 
Fou know my suit. 

Eeph. Yonder Cassander comes, 
He may inform us. 

hjL No, I would avoid him; 
There's lomething in that busy face of his, 
That shocks my nature. 

Hepk Where and what you please. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 

Enter Cassander. 

Can The morning rises black, the lowering sun, 
As if the dreadful business he foreknew, 
Droes heavily his sable chariot on : 
The face of day now blushes scarlet deep, 
As if it feared the stroke which I intend, 

like that of Jupiter Lightning and thunder! 

IV lords above are angry, and talk big, 
Or rather walk the mighty cirque like mourners 
Clad in long clouds, the robes of thickest night, 
And seem to groan for Alexander's fall. 
T» as Cassander's soul could wish it were, 
Which, whensoever it flies at lofty mischief, 
Would startle fate, and make all heaven concerned. 
A mad Chaldean, in the dead of night, 
Came to my bed-side with a flaming torch ; 
Aad bellowing o'er me, like a spirit damned, 
He cried, ' Well had it been for Babylon, 
1 If cursed Cassander never had been born/ 

Enter Thessalus, and Philip, with letters. 

Thess. My lord Cassander. 

Cast. Ha ! who's there ? 

PkiL Your friends. 

Cass. Welcome dear Thessalus, and brother 
Philip. 
Papers with what contents? 

PkiL From Macedon 

A trusty slave arrived great Antipater 

Writes, that your mother laboured with you long, 
Your birth was slow, and slow is all your life. 

Cass. He writes, dispatch the king — Craterus 



Who in my room must govern Macedon ; 
Let him not live a dav— -he dies to-night ; 
And thus my father but forestalls my purpose : 
Why am I stow then ? If I rode on thunder, 
I must a moment have to fall from heaven, 
Ere 1 could blast the growth of this Colossus, 



Thess. The haughty Polyperchon comes thi» 
way, 
A mal-content, on whom I lately wrought, 
That for a slight affront, at Susa given, 
Bears Alexander most pernicious nate. 

Cass. So, when I mocked the Persians, that 
adored him, 
He struck me in the face, and by the hair 
He swung me to his guards to be chastised ; 
For which and for my father's weighty cause, 
When I abandon what I have resolved, 
May I again be beaten like a slave. 
But lo, where Polyperchon comes ! now fire him 
With such complaints, that he may shoot to ruin. 

Enter Polyperchon. 

Pal. Sure I have found those friends, dare se- 
cond me; 
I hear fresh murmurs as I pass along : 
Yet, rather than put up, I'll do it alone. 
Did not Pausanias, a youth, a stripling, 
A beardless boy, swelled with inglorious wron& 
For a less cause his father Philip kill ? 
Peace then, full heart ! move like a cloud about, 
And when time ripens thee to break, O shed 
The stock of all thy poison on his head. 

Cass. All nations bow their heads with homage 
down, 
And kiss the feet of this exalted man : 
The name, the shout, the blast from every mouth, 
Is Alexander : Alexander bursts 
Your cheeks, and with a crack so loud 
It drowns the voice of Heaven ; like dogs ye fawn, 
The earth's commanders fawn, -and follow him; 
Mankind starts up to hear his blasphemy : 
And if this hunter of this barbarous world 
But wind himself a God, you echo him 
With universal cry. 

PoL I echo him? 
I fawn, or fall, like a far eastern slave, 
And lick his feet? Boys hoot me from the palace, 
To haunt some cloister with my senseless walk, 
When thus the noble soul of Polyperchon 
Lets go the aim of all his actions, honour. 

Thess. The king shall slay me, cut me up alive, 
Ply me with fire and scourges, rack me worse 
Than once he did Philotas, e'er I bow. 

Cass. Curse on thy tongue for mentioning Phi- 
lotas! 
I had rather thou hadst Aristander been, 
And to my soul's confusion raised up hell. 
With ail the furies brooding upon horrors, 
Than brought Philotas' murder to remembrance. 

PhiL I saw him racked, a sight so dismal sad 
My eyes did ne'er behold. 

Cass. So dismal ! Peace ! 
It is unutterable ; let me stand, 
And think upon the tragedy you saw ; 
By Mars it comes ! ay ! now the rack's set for 
Bloody Craterus, his inveterate* foe, 
With pitiless ilephestion standing by : 
Philotas, like an angel seized by fiends, 



166 



BEITISH DRAMA, 



[W 



It straigte disrobed, a nepkiii ties hU bead, 
His warlike arms with shameful cordsere bound. 
And every store can now tbe valiant wound. 

PoL Now, by the soul of royal Philip fled, 
I dare proaonace young Alexander, who 
Would he a god, is cruel as a devil. 

Cats. Oh, Polyperchon, Philip, Theafalus, 
Did not your eyes rain blood, yaar spirit* burst, 
To see your noble feUow-ftoldier bum, 
Yet without trembling, or a tear, endure 
The torments of the damned ? O barbarians, 
Could you stead by, and yet refuse to suffer? 
Ye saw hint bruised, torn* to tbe bones made bare; 
Hie veins wide lanced, and tbe poor quivering 

flesh 
With pincers from his manly bosom ript, 
Till ye discovered the great beast lie panting. 

Pol. Why killed we not the king, tt> save Phi- 
lotas r 

Cats. Asses ! fbefe ! but esses will bray* and 
fools be angry. 
Why stood ye then like statues? there's the case, 
The horror of tee sight had turned ye marble. 
8a the pale Trojans, from their weeping walls, 
Saw the dear body of the godlike Hector, 
Bloody and sailed, dragged on die famous ground, 
Yet senseless stood, nor with drawn weapons ran, 
To save the great remains of that prodigious 
man. 

PhiL Wretched Phikrtas ! bloody Alexander ! 

Thess. Soon after him the great Parmenio fall, 
Stabbed in- his orchard by the tyrant's doom. 
But whore's the need to mention public loss, 
When each receives particular disgrace ? 

PoL Late I remember^ to a banquet called, 
After Alcides* goblet 6wift had gone 
The giddy round, and wine had made me bold, 
Stirring the spirits up to talk with kings, 
I saw Craterus with Hephestion enter 
In Persian robes ; to Alexander's health 
They largely drank ; then, turning eastward, fell 
Flat on the pavement, and adored the sun. 
Straight to the king they sacred reverence gave, 
With solemn words, * O son of thundering Jove, 
Young Amnion, live for ever;' then kissed the 

ground. 
I laughed aloud, and, scoffing, asked them, why 
They kissed no harder ;— —but the king leapt up, 
And spurned me to the earth with this reply -. 

* Do thou !' whilst with his foot he prest my 

neck, 
Till from my ears, my nose, and mouth, the blood 
Gushed forth, and I lay foaming on the earth — 
For which I wish tliis dagger in his heart. 

Cats. There spoke the spirit of Calisthenes ; 
Remember he's a man, his flesh as soft 
And penetrable as a girl's : we have seen him 

wounded, 
A stone has struck htm, yet no thunderbolt : 
A pebble felled this Jupiter alone : 
A sword has cut him, a javelin pierced him, 
Water will drown him, fire bum him, 



A surfeit, nay a fit of caaejeji skJksjeef, 
Brings this immortal to the fata of death. 

PoL Why tbmM we awe delay the fjajjeyi 
business ? 
Are your hearts firm? 

PhiL I JeU eaaeot be mow bent 
To any ruiny that I to the kiae/s. 

The$$. And I. 

PoL Behold lay hand : and if you doubt my 
truth* 
Tear up my breast, sad ley aey heart una* if. 

Com Jew then, Ow#fthy^ hearty* wblekeads, 
Fit instruments for such majestic souls I 
Remember Itormak*]*, «ad be hushed. 

PoL Still as the bosom of the desert eight 
As fatal planets, or deep plotting fiends. 

Cass. To day he comes from Babylon e>£oa\ 
With proud Roxaaa, 
Ah! wbo^the J t^~-~~leok: there! 

Enter the Ghost of King W*tfp, shading a tmtn* 
cheoji at them, walks over the Stage. 

Cass. Now by the gods, or furies, which I ne'er 

Believed, there's one of them arrived to shake 

we. 
What art thou? glaring thing, speak! What, tat 

spirit 
Of our king Philip, or of Polyphemus? 
Nay hurl thy truncheon, second it with thunder; 
We will abide— TT—Thessalus, saw you Bobbing? 

Thess. Yes, and am more wmaaed than yon 
can be. 

PhiL Tie said, that many prodigies were ate* 
This mom, but none so horrible aa this, 

PqL What ! can you fear r though tbe earth 
yawned so wide, 
That all the labours of the deep were seen, 
And Alexander stood on the other side, 
I'd leap the burning ditch to give hitn death, 
Or sins, myself for ever : Pray, to the business. 

Cass. As I was saying, this Ronaoa* what*, 
To aggravate my hate to him, I love, 
Meeting him as he came triumphant from 
The Indies, kept him revelling at Sasa ; 
But as I found, a deep repentance since 
Turns his affections to die queen 5tatira, 
To whom he swore (before he could espouse her) 
That he would never bed Roxaim more. 

Pol. How did the Persian queen receive the 
news 
Of his revolt ? 

Thcss. With grief incrediblo ! 
Great Sysigambis wept, but the young queen 
Fell dead among her maids ; 
Nor could their care 

With richest cordials, for an hour or more, 
Recover life. 

Cass. Knowing how much she loved, 
I hoped to turn her all into Medea ; 
lor, when the first gust of her grief was peat, 
I entered, and with breath prepared did blow 
The dying sparks into a towering flame, 



IM.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



167 



Concerto^ not onukeiy, that the hne 

Of dad Darius in her cause might list. 

b any panther's, lioness's rage 

& rum, any torrent's falls so swift, 

As a wronged woman's hate ? Thus far it helps 

Toghe lam troubles; which perhaps may end 



And set the court in universal uproar. 
But see ! k ripens more than I expected; 
The scene works up; kill him, or kill thyself ; 
So there be mi sc li ief any way, 'tis well ; 
Now change the vizor, every one disperse. 
And with a face of friendship meet the king. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE in. 

Enter Stsigambis, Statira, Parisatis, At- 
tendants. 

Std. One me a knife, a draught of poison, 
flames; 
fall heart, break, break, thou stubborn thing ! 
Now, by the sacred fire, Til not be held ; 
Why do ye wish my life, yet stifle me 
For want of air ? pray give me leave to walk. 

Sp. U there no reference to my person due ? 
Darius would have heard me : trust not rumour. 

Stit. No, he hates, 
He baths the beauties, which he has enjoyed. 
0, he is false, that great, that glorious man 
Is tyrant midst of his triumphant spoils, 
b bravery raise, to all the gods forsworn : 
Yet, who would think it ! no, it cannot be, 
It cannot— —What, that dear protesting man ! 



Be, that has warmed my feet with thousand sighs, 
Then cooled them with his tears, died on my 



Outwent the tnorning with his dewy eyes, 

•And groaned and swore the wandering stars away! 

Sax. No, 'tis impossible, believe thy mother, 
That knows him well. 

Stit. Away, and let me die : 
'tis say fondness, and my easy nature, 
That would excuse him ; but I know he's false, 
Tis now the common talk, the news of the 

world, 
False to Statira, false to her, that loved him ; 
That loved him, cruel victor as he was, 
And took htm, bathed all o'er in Persian blood ; 
Kissed the dear cruel wounds, and washed them 



oer 



And o'er in te ar s t h en bound them with my 

hair, 
Lad him all night upon my panting bosom, 
Lolled like a child, and hushed him with my 



Par. If this be true, ah, who will ever trust 
A nam again ? 

Slat. A man ! a man ! my Parisatis ; 
Thus with thy band held up, thus lot me swear 



By the eternal body of the sun. 



Whose body, O forgive the blasphemy, 
I loved not half so well as the least part 
Qf my dear precious faithless Alexander ; 
For I will tell thee, and to warn thee of him, 
Not the spring's mouth, nor breath of jessamin, 
Nor violera infaniysweets, nor opening buds, 
Are half so sweet as Alexander's breast ; 
From every pore of him a perfume falls, 
He kisses softer than a southern wind, 
Curb like a vine, and touches like a god. 

Syt. When will thy spirits rest, these transports 

cease? 
Stat. Will you not give me leave to warn my 
sister? 
As I was haying— —but I told his sweetness; 
Then he will talk— good gods, how he will talk ! 
Even when the joy he sighed for is possest, 
He speaks the kindest words, and looks such 

things, 
Vows with so much passion, swears with so much 

grace, 
That 'tis a kind of heaven to be deluded by him. 
Par. But what was it, that you would have me 

swear ? 
Stat. Alas, I had forgot ! let me walk by, 
And weep awhile, and I shall soon remember. 

St/s. Have patience, child, and give her liberty; 
Passions, like seas, will have their ebbs and 

flows: 
Yet, while I see her thus, not all the losses 
We have received, since Alexander's conquest, 
Can touch my hardened soul ; her sorrow reigns 
Too fully there 
Par. But what if she should kill herself? 
5/ at. Roxana, then, enjoys my perjured love: 
Roxana clasps my monarch in her arms; 
Doats on my conqueror, my dear lord, my king. 
Devours his lips, eats him with hungry kisses : 
She grasps hhn all, she, the curst happy she ! * 
By heaven I cannot bear it, 'tis too much ; 
I'll die, or rid me of the burning torture. 
I will have remedy, I will, I will, 
Or go distracted ; madness may throw off 
The mighty load, and drown the flaming passion. 
Madam, draw near, with all that are in presence, 
And listen to the vow, which here I make. 

Sys. Take heed, my dear Statira, and consider, 
What desperate love enforces you to swenr. 

Stut. Pardon me, for I have considered well ; 
And here I bid adieu to all mankind. 
Farewell, ye cozeners of the easy sex, 
And thou die greatest, falsest, Alexander ! 
Farewell, thou most beloved, thou faithless dear ! 
If I but mention him, the tears will fall ; 
Sure there is not a letter in his name, 
But is a charm to melt a woman's eyes. 
Sys. Clear up thy griefs ; thy king, thy Alex- 
ander, 
Comes on to Babylon. 

Stat. Why, let'him come, 
Joy of all eyes but the forlorn Statin's. 
Sj/s. Wilt thou not see him ? 
Stat. By heaven I never will, 



168 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lu. 



This is my vow, my sacred resolution; [Kneels. 
And when I break it 

Sus. Ah, do not ruin all ! 

Stat. May I again be flattered and deluded, 
May sudden death, and horrid, come instead 
Of what I wished, and take me unprepared! 

Svs. Still kneel, and with the same breath call 
again 
The woful imprecation thou hast made. 

Stat. No, I will publish it through all the court, 
Jhen, in the bowers of great Semiramis, 
For ever lock my woes from human view. 

St/s. Yet be persuaded. 

Stat, Never urge me more ; 
Lest, driven to rage, I should my life abhor, 
.And in your presence put an end to all 



The fast calamities, that round me falL 

Par. O angry heaven ! what have the guiltless 
done? 

And where shall wretched Parisatis run ? 
Syt. Captives in war, our bodies we resigned; 

But now made free, love does our spirits bind. 
Stat. When to my purposed loneness I retire, 

Your sight I through the grates shall oft desire, 

And after Alexander's health enquire. 

And if this passion cannot be removed, 

Ask how my resolution he approved, 

How much he loves, how much he is beloved? 

Then, when I hear that all things please him 
well, 

Thank the good gods, and hide me in my celL 

[Exeunt. 



ACT II, 



SCENE I. 



'Notes of trumpets sounding far off.— The scene 
draws, and discovers a battle of crows and ra- 
vens in the air; an eagle and a dragon meet 
and fight ; the eagle drops down with all the 
rest of the birds, and the dragon flies away. 
Soldiers walk off, shaking their heads. The 
conspirators come forward. 

Cass. He comes, the fatal glory of the world, 
The headlong Alexander, with a guard 
Of thronging crowns, comes on to Babylon, 
Though warned, in spite of all the powers above, 
Who, by these prodigies, foretell his ruin. 

Pol Why all this noise, because a king must 
die? 
Or does heaven fear, because he swayed the earth, 
His ghost will war with the high thunderer ? 
Curse on the babbling fates, that cannot sec 
A great man tumble, but they must be talking. 

Con. The spirit of king Philip, in those arms 
We saw him wear, passed groaning through the 

court, 
His dreadful eye-balls rolled their horror up- 
wards; 
He waved his arms, and shook his wondrous head. 
I have heard, that, at the crowing of the cock, 
Lions will roar, and goblins steal away ; 
But this majestic air stalks stedfast on, 
Spite of the morn, that calls him from the east, 
Nor minds the opening of the ivory door. 

Phil. Tis certain, there was never day like this. 

Cau. Late as I musing walked behind the pa- 
lace, 
I met a monstrous child, that, with his hands, 
Held to his face, which seemed all over eyes, 
A silver bowl, and wept it full of blood : 
But having spied me, like a cockatrice, 
He glared a while ; then, with a shriek so shrill 
As all the winds had whistled from his mouth, 
He dashed me with the gore he held, and vanished. 

Pol. That, which befel me, though it was hor- 
rid, yet 

2 



When I consider, it appears ridiculous : 

For as I passed through a bye vacant place, 

I met two women, very old and ugly, 

That wrung their heads, and howled, and beat 

their breasts, 
And cried out, poison : When I asked the cause, 
They took me by the ears, and with strange force 
Held me to the earth, then laughed, and disap- 
peared. 
Cass. O how I love destruction with a method, 
Which none discern, but those, that weave the 

plot ! 
Like silk-worms we are hid in our own web, 
But we shall burst at last through all the strings; 
And, when time calls, come forth in a new fonn, 
Not insects to be trod, but dragons winged. 
Thess. The face of all the court is strangely 
altered: 
There is not a Persian I can meet, but stares 
As if he were distracted. Oxyartes, 
Statira's uncle, openly declaimed 
Against the perjury of Alexander. 
Phil. Others, more fearful, are removed to 
Susa, 
Dreading Roxana's rage, who comes in the rear 
To Babylon. 

Cass. It glads my rising soul, 
That we shall see him racked before he dies : 
I know he loves Statira more than life, 
And on a crowd of kings, in triumph borne, 
Comes big with expectation to enjoy her. 
But when he hears the oaths, which she has ta- 
ken, ' 
Her last adieu made public to the world, 
Her vowed divorce, how will remorse consume 

him, 
Prey, like the bird of hell, upon his liver ! 

Pol. To baulk his longing, aud delude his last. 
Is more than death, 'tis earnest for damnation. 
Cass. Then comes Roxana, who must help oar 

I know her, jealous, bloody, and ambitious. 
Sure it was die likeness of her heart to mine, 



i 



Lee.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



169 



And sympathy of natures, caused me love her : | 
lis fiied, I must enjoy her, and no way 
So proper as to make her guilty first 
PoL To see two rival queens of different hu- 
mours, 
With a variety of torments vex him ! 

Enter Lysimachus, and HephestiOn. 

Cess. Of that anon : But see Lysimachus, 
And the young favourite. Sort, sort yourselves, 
Andy like to other mercenary souls, 
Adore this mortal god, that soon must bleed. 
hft Here I will wait the king's approach, and 
stand 
His utmost anger, if he do me wrong* 
Htpk. That cannot be, from power so abso- 
lute 
And high as his. 
Ins. Well, you and I have done. 
PoL How the court thickens ! 

[Trumpets sound. 
Cast. Nothing to what it will — Does he not 
come 
To hear a thousand thousand embassies, 
Which from all parts to Babylon are brought ; 
As If the parliament of the world 
Had met, and he came on, a god, to give 
The infinite assembly glorious audience. 

Enter Clytus, Arista n deb in his robes, with a 
_ wand. 

Arist. Haste, reverend Clytus, haste and stop 

the king ! 
Cly. He is already entered : Then the press 
Of princes, that attend so thick about him. 
Keep all, that would approach, at certain dis- 
tance. 
Arist. Though he were hemmed with deities I'd 
speak to him, 
And turn him back from this highway to death. 
Cly. Here place yourself within his trumpet's 
sound. 
■Lo, the Chaldean priests appear; behold 
The sacred fire, Nearchus and Eumenes, 
With their white wands, and dressed iu eastern 

robes, 
To soothe the king, who loves the Persian mode : 
Bat see, the master of the world appears. 

Enter Alexander ; all kneel but Clytus. 

ffepk. O son of Jupiter, live for ever. 
Alex. Rise all ; ana thou my second self, my 
love, 
my Hephesdon, raise thee from the earth 
Up to my breast, and hide thee in my heart 
Art thou grown cold ? Why hang thine arms at 

distance? 
Hog me, or, by Heaven, thou lovest me not 
Meph. Not love, my lord ! break not the heart 
you framed, 
And moulded up to such an excellence ! 
Then stamped on it your own immortal image. 
Vol. I. 



Not love the king? such Is not woman's love; 
So fond a friendship, such a sacred flame, 
As I must doubt to find in breasts above. 

Ales. Thou dost, thou lovest me, crown of all 
my wars, 
Thou dearer to me than my groves of laurel : 
I know thou lovest thy Alexander more 
Than Clytus does the king. No tears, Hephestion ; 
I read thy passion in thy manly eyes, 
And glory in those planets of my life, - 
Above the rival lights, that shine in Heaven. 

Ins* I see, that death must wait me, yet Til on. 

Alex. I'll tell thee, friend, and mark it, all ye 
princes, 
Though never mortal man arrived to such 
A height as I ; yet I would forfeit all, 
Cast all my purples, and my conquered crowns, 
And die to save this darling of my souL 
Give me thy hand, share all my sceptres while 
I live ; and, when my hour of fate is come, 
I leave thee, what thou merit'st more than I, the 
world. 

1ms. Dread sir, I cast me at your royal feet 

Alex. What ! my Lysimachus, whose veins are 
rich 
With our illustrious blood ? My kinsman, rise ; 
Is not that Clytus? 

Cly. Your old faithful soldier. 

Alex. Come to my hands, thus double arm the 
king: 
And now, methinks, I stand like the dread God* 
Who, while his priests and I quaffed sacred blood, 
Acknowledged me his son. My lightning thou, 

And thou my mighty thunder 1 have seen 

Thy glittering sword out-fly celestial fire : 
And when I cried, ' Begone and execute/ 
I've seen him run swifter than starting hinds, 
Nor bent the tender grass beneath his feet ; 
Swifter than shadows fleeting o'er the fields ; 
Nay, even the winds, with all their stock of wings, 
Have puffed behind, as wanting breath to reach 
hiin. 

Lys. But if your majesty— 

Cly. Who would not lose 
The last dear drop of blood for such a king ? 

Alex. Witness, my elder brothers of the sky, 

How much I love a soldier O my Clytus, 

Was it not when we passed the Granicus, 
Thou didst preserve me from unequal force ? 
It was then, when Spithridates ana Rhcsaces, 
Fell both upon me with two dreadful strokes, 
And clove my tempered helmet quite in sunder, 
Then I remember, then thou didst me service ; 
I think my thunder split them to the navel. 

Cly. To your great self you owe that victory, 
And sure your arms did never gain a nobler. 

Alex. By Heaven, they never did; for well 
thou knov/st, 
And I am prouder to have passed that stream, 
Than that I drove a million o'er the plain : 
Can none remember ? Yes, I know all must, 
When Glory, like the dazzling eagle, stood, 

Q 



170 



BRITISH DRAMAv 



[LlA 



Perched ok my beaver hi the Gf&nkfc food; • 
When Fortune's self my standard trembling bore, 
And the pale. Fates stood fritted on the shore* 
When the immortals on the billows rode, 
And I myself appeared the leading god. 

Aru. But all the honours, which your youth 
has won, . 
Are lost, unless you fly from Baby km 5 
Haste with your griefis> to 8usa take your way, 
Fly for your life, destructive is your stay. 
This morning having, viewed die angry sky, "> 
And marked the prodigies, that threatened nigh, >, 
To our brigjat God.I did for succour fly. J 

But oil 

Alex. What fears thy -revesend- bosom shake? 
Or dost thou from some .dream of horror wake ? 
If so, come grasp me with thy shaking handy 
Or fall behind, while 1 the danger stand. 

Arts, To QrosmadeV care I did repair, 
Where J atoned the ^dreadful God with -prayer : 
But, as I prayed. I heard long groans within, 
And shrieks as of the damned, that howl for 

sine 
I knew, the omen* and I feared to stay,< 
But prostrate on the trembling pavement lay. 
When be bodes happiness,, he answers mild: 
Twas so of old, and the great image smiled v 
But now in abrupt thunder tie replied, 
Loud as rent. rocks? or. roaring seas, heeriebV 
* All empires, crowns, glory of Babylon, 
Whose, head stands : wrapped in clouds} must 
tumble down/ 

Alex. If Babylon must fall, what is it to-mer 
Or can I help immutable decree ? " 
Down, then, vast frame,'witn all thy lofty towecs, 
Since it is so ordered by almighty- powers : 
Pressed. by the fates, unloose your golden barty 
Tis great to fall the envy of the -star*. 

.Enter Perdjccas, Meleaqeb. 

. MeL.Q horror! 

Per. Dire portents ! 

Alex. Out with them, then; - 
What, are ye ghosts, ye empty shapes of men? 
If so, the mysteries -of hell unfold, 
Be ail the scrolls of destiny- unrolled, 
Open the brazen leaves*. and let it corner 
Point with a thunder-bolt- your monarch's doom. 

Per. As Meleager and myself in £eld, 
Your Persian horse about the army wheeled, • 
We heard a noise as of .a rushing wind, < 
And a thick storm the. eye of day did blind » 
A croaking noise resounded through the air, 
We looked, and saw big ravens batttiag there; • 
Each bird of night. appeared himself a cloudy 
They met and fougnV and their • wounds rained 

black blood 
' MeL All, as fox honour, did their lives expose ; 
T^eir talons clashed, and beak* gave mighty 

blows, 
Whilstdreadful sounds did our scared sense assail, 
As of small thunder, or huge Scythian hail* . 



Per. Oar augurs -shook; when, wita<e hsrria 
groan, 
We thought that all the 4ietid»tmdtoiubkddowt> 
Seldier* and chiefly— who can the wonder tell ! 
Struck to the ground, promiscuously reUj 
While the dark birds; each ponderous a**ssitkl, 
tor fifty furlongs hid die fatal field. 1 

Alex. Be witness for me, all ye powers divine, 
If ye be angry, it is no -mult of mine ; 
Therefore- tet furies face me wish febtad > 
From hell, my virtue shall not make a steady 
Though all the curtains of the sky to drawn, 
And the stars wirik, youne Ammoo sheU'goei: 
While my Statira shines, I cannot stay, 1 
Love lifts his torch to light me on my way, > 
And her bright eyes create another day*- ) 

Lyt. Ere you remove, be pleased, dread sir, to 
hear 
A prince allied to you by btoodV 

Alex. Speak auickiyv  

Ly$. For all that I have done for you in war, 
I beg the princess 
:. Ha 



Alex. 



La- 



Is not my word already past? Hfttohesdon, 

I know he hates thee, but he shall not have her; 

We heard of this Defore^-^Lysifnachus, 

I here command you nourish no design 

To prejudice my wesson in the man- - 

I love, and will prefer to all the worlds • 

Zy*. I never failed to obey your majesty, 
Whilst you commanded what was in my power; 
Nor could Hephestkm fly more swift to serve, 
When you commanded us to storm a town, 
Or fetch a standard from the enemy : 
But, when you charge me not to love the prin* 

cess, 
I must confess, I disobey you,- as 
I would the gods themselves, should they com- 
mand. 
Alex. You should* brave sir? hear me, and thai 
be. dumb; 
When by my order curst Calisthenes 
Was, as a traitor, doomed to live in torments, 
Your pity sped him in despite of ane. 
Think not I have forgot your insolence j 
No, though I pardoned it, yet if again 
Thou darest to cross me with Another eaime, 
The bolts- of fury shall be doubled -en thee. 
In the mean time think not of Parismtis; 
For if thou dost, by Jupiter Ammon, 
By my own head, and by king Philip's soul, 
I'll not respect that blood of mine taou share*, 
But use thee as the vilest Macedonian. 

Lyu I doubted not at first but I should meet 
Your indignation, yet my- soul's resolved ; 
And \ shall never quit so brave a prise,- 
While I can draw a bow, or lift a sword. 
Alex. Against my life! Ah! was it so? how 
now! - 
lis said, that I am rash, of hasty humour ; 
But I appeal to the immortal gods, 
If ever petty poop provincial lord - 



LkJ 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



171 



flad.tevpeefike (amine:. My slave, whom I 
Could tread to clay,, dares utter bloody, threats. 

Of. Contain yourself, <dread sir; the noble 
prince, 
I «e it in his countenance, would die 
To justify lu* truth;, but love makes many faults* 

Xyt. I meant his minion there should feel my 



arm;, 



Love asks his bloody nor shall he live to laugh 
At my destruction, 
- Akx. Now be thy own judge ; 
I pardon thee for my old ClytuV sake ; 
Bat, if once more thou mention thy rash love, 
Or darest attempt Hephestion's precious life, 
ni pour such storms of indignation, on tfiee, 
PhnoW rank, Calisthenes' disgrace, 
Shsil be delight to what thou wait endure, 



Enter Sysigam bis, Parisatis. 

Htpk. My lorcj, the queen comes to coogratur 
late 
Year safe arrival. 

Alex. O thou, die best of women, 
Source of my joy, blest parent of my love ! 
Sfi. Permit me kneel, and give those adora- 
tions, 
Wnica fiom the Persian family are due : 
Have you'no$ raised us from our ruins high? 
And when, no- hand could help, nor any eye 
Behold us with a tear, tout's pitied me ; 
You, like a sad, snatched us from sorrow's gqlf, 
Toed us in thrones above our former state. 
Pwr. Which, when a soul forgets, advanced so 
nobly, 
May it be drowned in deeper misery ! 

Alex. -To meet me thus, was generously done; 
But still there wants, to crown my happiness, 
life of my empire, treasure of my soul, 
Mr-dear Statira : O that heavenly beam, 
warmth of my brain, and fire of my heart ; 
Had she but shot to see me, had she met me, 
Br mis time I bad been amongst the gods. 
If any extasy can make a height, 
Or any rapture hurl us to the heavens. 
CUf. Now, who shall dare to tell him the 

queen's vow ? 
Alex. How. fares my love? ha — neither answer 



Ye raise my wander, darkness overwhelms met/ 
If royal Syngambis does not weep ! 
Trembling and horror, pierce me, cold as ice. 
Is she not well ? what none, none answer me ? 
Or is it worse ? Keep down, ye rising sighs, 
And murmur in the hollow of my breast : 
Ran to my heart, and gather more sad wind ; 
That, when the voice o? Fate shall call you forth, 
Ye mar* at one rush, from the seat of life, 
-Blow dm blood oufe. and burst like a bladder. 
Heph. I would relate it, but my courage fails 



Ales. If she be dead — That if is impossible; 
And let none hew affirm it for his soul : 



For he, that dares but think so damned a lie, 
Fll have nis body straight impaled before me, 
And glut .my ,eyes upon his bleeding entrails. 

Cas$, How will this engine of unruly passion 
Roar, when we have rammed him to the mouth 
with poison ? [Aside. 

Ales. Why stand you ally as you were rooted 
here, 
like the senseless trees, while to the stnpid grove 
I, like a wounded lion, groan my griefs, 
And none will answer — what, not my Hephestion? 
If thou hast any love for Alexander, 
If ever I obliged thee by my care, 
When my quick sight has watched thee in the 

fc %ht; 
Or if to see thee bleed I sent forth cries, 
And like a mother, washed thee with my tears ; 
If this be true, if I deserve jthy love, ' 
Ease me, and tell the cause of my disaster. 

Heph. Your mourning queen (which I had told 
before 
Had you been calm) has no disease but sorrow, 
Which was occasioned first by jealous pangs : 
She heard, (for what can escape a watchful lo- 
ver ?) 
That you at Susa, breaking all your vows, 
Relapsed, and conquered by Roxana's charms, 
Gave up yourself devoted to her arms. 

Alex. I know that subtle creature, in my riot, 
My reason gone, seduced me to her bed ; 
But when I waked I shook the Circe off, 
Though that enchantress held me by the arm, 
And wept, and gazed with all the force of love ; 
Nor grieved I less for that, which 1 had done, 
Than when at Thais' suit, enraged with wine, 
I set the famed Persepolis on fire. 

Heph. Your queen Statira took it so to heart, 
That, in the agony of love, she swore 
Never to see your majesty again; 
With dreadful imprecations she confirmed 
Her oath, and I much fear that she will keep it. 

Alex. Ha! did she swear? did that sweet crea- 
ture swear ? 
HI not believe it; no, she is all softness, 
All melting, mild, and calm as a rocked infant, 
Nor can you wake her into cries : By heaven 
She is the child of love, and she was born in 
• smiles. 

Par. I and • my weeping- mother ' heard her 
swear. 

Sys. And with such' fierceness she did aggra- 
vate 
The foulness of your fault, that I could wish 
Your majesty would blot her from your breast. 

Alex. Blot her, forget her, hurl her from my 
bosom, 
For ever lose that star that gilds my life^ 
Guide of my <tays, and goddess of my nights ! 
No, she shall stay with me in spite of vows, 
My soul and body both are twisted with her* 
The god of love empties his golden quiver, 
Shoots every grain of her into my heart; 



172 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lee, 



She is all mine, by Heaven I feel her here, 
Panting and warm, the dearest — O Statira ! 

Sys. Have patience, son, and trust to Heaven 
and me. 
If my authority, or the remembrance 
Of dead Darius, or her mother's soul. 
Can work upon her, she again is yours. 

Alex. O mother, help me, help your wounded 
son, 
And move the soul of my offended dear ; 
Hut fly, haste, ere the sad procession's made. 
Spend not a thought in reply — Begone, 
It you would have me live — and, rarisati.s, 
Hang thou about her knees, wash them with tears : 
Nay haste, the breath of gods, and eloquence 
Of angels, go along with you— -Oh my heart ! 

[Exeunt Sys. and Par. 

Lys. Now let your majesty, who feels the tor- 
ments 
And sharpest pangs of love, encourage mine. 

Alex. Ha 

Cly. Are you a madman ? Is this a time ? 

Lys, Yes ; for I see he cannot be unjust to 
me, 
Lest something worse befal himself. 

Ales. Why dost thou tempt me thus to my un- 
doing ? 
Death thou shouldst have, were it not courted so : 
But know, to thy confusion, that my word, ' 
Like destiny, admits not a reverse ; 
Therefore in chains thou shalt behold the nup- 
tials 
Of my Hephcstion -Guards, take him prisoner. 

Lys. r shall not easily resign my sword, 
Till I have dyed it in my rival's blood. 

Alex. I charge you, kill him not, take him 
alive ; 
The dignity of kings is now concerned, 
And I will find a way to tame this beast. 

Cly. Kneel, for I see lightning in his eyes. 



Lys. I neither hope nor ask a pardon of him; 
But if he should restore my sword, I would 
With a new violence run against my rivaL 

Alex, Sure we at last shall conquer this fierce 
lion : 
Hence from my sight, and bear him to a dungeon ! 
Perdiccas, give this lion to a lion ; 
None speak for him ! fly ! stop his mouth, away I 

Cly. The king's extremely moved. 

Eum. I dare not speak. 

Cly. This comes of love and women ; 'tis al^ 
. madness ; 
Yet were I heated now with wine, I should 
Be preaching to the king for this rash foo . 

Alex. Come hither, Clytus, and my dear He- 
phestion ; 
Lend irie your arms, help, for Fm sick on the 

sudden. 
I fear betwixt Statira's cruel love, 
And fond Roxana^s arts, your king will falL 

Cly. Better the Persian race were all undone. 

Heph. Look up, my lord, and bend not thus 
your head, 
As if you*d leave the empire of this world, 
Which you with toil have won. 

Alex. Would I had not ! 
There's no true joy in such unwieldy fortune. 
Eternal gazers lasting troubles make, 
All find my spots, but few my brightness take. 

Stand off, ana give me aiiv- 

Why was I born a prince, proclaimed a god, 
Yet have no liberty to look abroad ? 
Thus palaces in prospect bar tlie eye, 
Which, pleased and free, would o'er the cot- 
tage fly, 
O'er flowery lands to the gay distant sky. 
Farewell, then, empire, and the racks of love; 
By all the gods, I will to wilds remove; 
Stretched like a Sylvan god on grass lie down, 
And quite forget, that e'er I wore a crown. 



ApT IIL 



SCENE I. 



Enter Ecmenes, Philip, Thessalcs, Per- 
diccas, Lysimachus, Guards. 

Eum. Farewell, brave spirit! when you come 
above, 
Commend us to Philotas and the rest 
Of our great friends. 

Thcss. Perdiccas, you are grown 
In trust, be thankful for your noble office. 

Per. As noble as you sentence me, I'd give 
This arm, that Thessalus were so employed. 
Lys. Cease these untimely jars, farewell to 
all. 
Fight for the king as I have done, and then 
You may be worthy of a death like min< 
Lead on. 



Enter Pari satis. 



Par. Ah, my Lysimachus, where are you go- 
ing? 
Whither? to be devoured? O barbarous prince! 
Could you expose your life to the king's rase, 
And yet remember mine was tied to vours r 

Lys. The gods preserve you ever from the ill*, 
That threaten me : Live, madam, to enjoy 
A nobler fortune, and forget this wretch. 
I ne'er had worth, nor is it possible 
That all the blood, which I shall lose this day, . 
Should merit this rich sorrow from your eyes.' 

Par. The king, I know, is bent to thy destrne- 
tion ; 
Now by command they forced me from hb 

knees : 
But take this satisfaction in thy death, 



Lib.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



173 



No Doner, command, my mother's, sister's tears, 
Shall cause me to survive thy cruel loss. 

Zyi lire, princess, live, howe'er the king dis- 
dain me: 
Perhaps, unarmed and fighting for your sake, 
I may perform what shall amaze the world, 
And force htm yet to give you to my arms. 

Away, Perdiccas Dear Eumenes, take 

The princess to your charge. 

[Exeunt Perd. lys. Guard*. 

Emm. O cruelty ! 

Par. Lead me, Eumenes, lead me from die 

Where I may wait till I his ruin hear, 
Then free my soul to meet him in the air. 

[Exeunt Par. and Eum. 
PkiL See where the jealous proud Roxana 
comes, 
A haughty vengeance gathers on her brow. 
Tkesu Peace ! they have raised her to their 
ends; observe. 

fafarRoxASA, Cassander, Polyperchon. 

Rax. you have ruined me, I shall be mad : 
Said you so passionately ? is it possible ? 
So kind to her, and so unkind to me ? 

do. More than your utmost fancy can invent 
He swooned thrice at hearing of her vow, 
And when our care as oft had brought back life, 
lie drew his sword, and offered at his breast 
PoL Then railed at you with such unheard of 

corses! 
Hot. Away, begone, and give a whirlwind 
room, 
Or I will blow you up Hke dust ; avaunt ! 
Madness but meanly represents my toil. 
Roxana and Statira, they are names 
Hat must for ever jar : eternal discord, 
Fury, revenge, disdain, and indignation 
Tear my swollen breast, make way for fire and 

tempest 
My brain is burst, debate and reason quenched, 
The storm is up, and my hot bleeding heart 
Splits with the rack, while passions, like the 

winds, 
Rise up to heaven, and put out all the stars. 
What saving hand, or what a mighty arm 
Can raise me sinking ? 

Csar. Let your own arm save you ! 
Tis in your power, your beauty is almighty : 
Let all the stars go out, your eyes can light them. 
Wake then, bright planet, that should rule the 

world, 
Wake, like the moon, from your too long eclipse, 
And we, with all the instruments of war, 
T r umpets and drums, will help your glorious la- 
boar. 
PoL Put as to act, and with a violence, 
That fits the spirit of a most wronged woman: 
Let not Medea's dreadful vengeance stand 
A pattern more, but draw your own so fierce, 
It mar for ever t?e original. 



Can. Touch not, but dash with strokes so 
bravely bold, 
Till you have formed a face of so much horror, 
That gaping furies may run frighted back ; 
That envy may devour herself for madness, 
And sad Medusa's head be turned to stone. 

Rax. Yes, we will have revenge, my instru^ 
ments; 
For there is nothing you have said of me, 
But comes far short, wanting of what I am. 
When in my nonage I at Zogdia lived, 
Amongst my she companions 1 would reign ; 
Drew them from idleness, and little arts 
Of coining looks, and laying snares for lovers, 
Broke all their glasses, ana their tires tore, 
Taught them, like Amazons, to ride and chase 
Wild beasts in deserts, and to master men. 

Can. Her looks, her words, her every motion 
fires me. 

Rot. But when I heard of Alexander's con- 
quests ; 
How with a handful he had millions slain, 
Spoiled all the east, their queens his captives 

made, 
Yet with what chastity, and godlike temper, 
He saw their beauties, and with pity bowed ; 
Methought I hung upon my father's lips, 
And wished him tell the wondrous tale again : 
Left all my sports, the woman now returned, 
And sighs uncalled would from my bosom fly ; 
And all the night, as my Adraste told me, 
In slumbers groaned, and murmured Alexander. 

Cast. Curse on the name, hut I will soon re- 
move 
That bar of my ambition and my love. [Aside. 

Rax. At last to Zogdia this tnumpher came, 
And, covered o'er with laurels, forced our city : 
At night I by my father's order stood, 
With fifty virgins waiting at a banquet 
But oh ! how glad was I to hear his court, 
To feel the pressure of his glowing hand, 
And taste the dear, the false protesting lips ! 

Cass. Wormwood and hemlock henceforth 
grow about them ! [Aside, 

Rpx. Gods! that a man should be so great' 
and base! 
What said he not, when in the bridal bed, 
He clasped my yielding body in his arms f 

Cass. Yet after this prove false ! 

PoL Horrid perjury! 

Cass. Not to be matched ! 

Pol. O you must find revenge ! 

Cass. A person of your spirit be thus slighted. 
For whose desire all earth should be too little ! 

Rax. And shall the daughter of Darius hold 
him? 
That puny girl, that ape of my ambition ? 
That cried tor milk, when I was nursed in blood ! 
Shall she, made up of watry elements, 
A cloud, shall she embrace my proper god, 
While I am cast like lightning from nis hand ? 
No, I must scorn to prey on common things ; 



174 



BRITISH &RAMA* 



[Lbb. 



Though* hurled to earth by this disdainful Jove, 

I will rebound to my own orb of fire, 

And -with -the-wreck ofall the heaven* expire. » 

Cass* Now you* appear, yourself ; 
Tis noble-anger. 

Jfar.. May- the illustrious bloodV thai fills my 
-womb, 
And ripens to be perfect godhead born, 
Come forth a fury ; -may Barsina r s bastard 
Tread it to hell, ami rule as sovereign lord. 
When I permit Statira to enjoy 
RoxaaaV right, and strive not to destroy. 

Enttr Sysigambis, StatI^a, in mourning. 

Cast* Behold- her going to fulfil her vow ; 
Old fysigarabisj whora.thV king engaged, 
Resists and awes her with authority. 
,1 Mex* T^waa rashly vowed indeed* and I should 

jpity her. 
„ jByiM my Smtira,how4ies|>ession*hangedthee ! 
Think if thou drive the king to such extremes, 
What in his fury may he not denounce 
Against- the; poor uemains of lost Darius ? 

Stat. I know, I know he will be kind to you, 
And to- my mourning sister for ray sake ; 
And tell him, how with. my departing breathy 
I railed not, but .spoke* kindly of his person, 
Nay wept to think of our- divided loves, 
And, sobbing sent, at last, forgiveness to him. 
.- Rex. Grant, heaven, some ease to this distract- 
ed wretch! 
Lei her not linger out alife in- torments, 
Be these her last words* aedat oncedispateh her. 

Sys. No, by the everlasting fire I swear, 
By my Darius' soul, I never more 
WiU dare to loek on AleBanders wee, 
If you refuse to see him. 

Rox. Curw cm that cuaniag tongue, I fear her 
now. j 

Cew. •No, eheV resolved. 

Stat. I cast me at your feet, 
To bathe them with my tears * or, if you, please, 
VIMet vou.Ufey-and wash them with* my bjood, 
But still conjure you notto rack my soul, 
Nor hurry mrwild thoughts to perfect madness. 
Should now Darius' awful ghost' appear, 
And my pale mother, stand beseeepmg by, 
I would persist to death,* and keep my vow. 

Rox. She shews- a certain bravery of soul, 
Which I should praise in any but my rival. 

Sy$. Die then, rebellious- wretch ! thou art not 
now 
That sdft beloved* nor durst thou- shore my*blood. 
Go hide thy baseness in the lonely-grot, 
Ruin thy metbeiyaodthy royal » house, 
Pernicious creature ! shed the innocent 
Blood, and sacrifice to the king's wrath 
The lives of all thy people ; fly; begone, 
And hide thee, where bright virtue never shone ; 
The day will shun thee* nay the- stars, that view 
Mischiefs and murdecs> deeds to thee <not new,. 



Will start atthiij— -*^p^ go, Ay -crimen a^ore, 
And never think of Sysigambis more. , [Exeunt. 

Rax., Madam, -I. p>pe you>will a,, queen for- 
gives 
Roxana weeps to see; Statir* grieve- 
How noble is the brave resolve yea make, 
To quit the world for Alexander's sake ? 
Vast is. your mindyyouf date thMsgreedydity 
And yield the king to- one so, mean as I : 
Tis a revenge will make the victor smart, 
And much I fear your death willbreak his heart. 

jSU^-Youi-ceunterfeit, I fear,. aneVk»aw toe 
well 
How much your eyes ell beauties else excel : 
Roxana, who, thouch not. a princess horn, 
la chains, could make the mighty victor mourm 
Forgetting power when wine hedmedemro warm, 
And senseless, yet even then you knew to charm : 
Preserve ban by these arts, -that •cannot fail, 
While I the loss of .what J loved bewail. 

Rax. I hope your majesty will, give me leave 
To wait you to the grove, where you would 

> grieve ; • 

Where like the turtle* you the* lose will mean 
Of that dear mate, and murmur- all alone. 

Stat. No, » proud fetumpher .^/er my- falling 
. state, 
Thou shalt not stay to fill me with my fate : 
Go to the conquest* which your wiles may boast. 
And tell the world you. left Stathm lost. 
Go< seize my faithless Alexander's hand, 
Botii hand and heart were once at my cook 
mand: 



Grasp his loved neck, die on his fragrant breast, 1 
Love him like me, whose love can/the epprest, J* 
He must be happy, and yen moreJhan bleat; 




long, 

• iter. No, siokly virtue* no, 
Thou shalt not think, nor thy lovefr-loes bemoan, 
Nor shaU p«Upleasureft through thj fancy ran; 
That were to make thee blest as I rca» be : 
But thy no^tboughtLmust,I will decree. 
As thus, I'll torture thee rill thou art jaad, 
And.theuno thought »to purpose-can be bad. 

Stat. How fraU, vhow cowardly 
mind? 
We shriek at thunder, dread the rustling wind,] 
And glittering tswords the.* brightest eyes 

• blind. 

Yetwhen strong jealous* iafiames the soul, 
The weak will roar, and calms to tempests rolL 
Rivel*»take head)«and.4e&H>tme> not too far ! 
My blood may boiVead hluehesehew.a war. 

. Rox^ Whe» you retire to your r osaan b e call 
111 make thy solitary mansion hell ; 
Thou shall, not rest hv-dayvnor eleep by night, 
But still JUhuuu* shall thjMpirit fright : 
Wanton m dreams. if 4heu dares* -dreatn of bfa^ 
Thy roving ghost may think to^ steal a kiss; 



Lib.] 



BRITISH' DRAMA. 



175 



Bat whetf* hfesMghlbtdy thy wan d r ing air 
Shad for the happiness it wished repair, 
Hsw will it groan to find thy rival there? - 
Howgksdy wilt thou look, when thou shah see, 
Tkroaga the drawn curtains, that great ana and 

Wearied with taghing -joys shot to the soul, 
While thso shah' grinning stand, and gnash thy 
teeth, and how*? 
StsL barbarous rage ! my tears- 1 cannot 

Bat my full eyes in spite of me will weep. 

Rog. The hoc and I in various- pictures drawn, 
Chspiag each other, shaded o'er with lawn, 
Shall be the daily presents I will send,- 
To helo thy sorrow to her journey's end. 
An* wWa we hear at last thy hour draws nigh, 
Mjr Afeaader, my dear lore and I, 
Will coae and hasten on thy lingering fates, 
Asd anile and kiss thy soul out- through the grates. 

Stst. T» well, I thank thee; thou hast waked 

Whoa* toiling now no temper can assuage : 
I meet thy tides of jealousy with more, 
Dare thee to duel, and dash thee o'er and o'er. 
Hat. What would you dare ? • 
St*L Whatever you date do. 
My waning thoughts the bloodiest tracts pursue ; 
I am by love a fury made, like you » 
Kill or be killed, thus acted by despair, 
itar. Sure the disdained Statira does not dare? 
Slot. Yes, towering proud Roxana, but I dare. 
Ron. I tower indeed o'er thee ; 
like a fair wood, the shade of kings I stand; 
While thou, sick weed, do but infest the land. 

Stat. No, like an ivy I will curl thee round, "J 
Thy sapless trunk of all its pride confound, > 
Tbea,dryaadwi(h<i^befidtheetAthegixnind.3 
WaatSwigambis' threats, objected fears, 
My sisters sighs, and Alexander's tears, 
Csald net effect, thy rival rage has done : \ 
My soul, whose start at breach of oaths begun, > 
Shall to thy ruin violated run. j 

HI see the king invpite of all I swore, 
Though curst, that thou mayest never see him 



2*ter PcajuccAS, Alexander* Sysioambis, at- 

tcndamti) Sfc* 

Per. Madam, your royal mother, and the king. 

Alex. O my Statira 1 O my angry dear ! 
Tarn thine eyes on me, I would talk to them* 
What shall I say to work upon thy soul ? 
Where shall! throw me? whither shall I fail? 

Stat. For me you shall not falL 

Alex. For thee I will, 
Before thy feet Fll have a grave dug up,- 
And perish quaek, be buried straight dive : 
Give but, as the. earth grows heavy on me, 
A leader look, and a relenting word, 
Say bat, 'twas pity that so great a man, 
Who had ten thousand deaths in battles 'scaped, 



For one poor fault so earif 'should remove,- - 
And fall a' martyr to the god of love. 

Rox. Is then Roxana's love «nd life so poor, 
That for another you can chase to die, 
Rather than lite for her? what have I done? 
How am I altered sincoat Sosa last 
You swore, and sealed it with a thousand kisses, 
Rather than lose Rosalia's smallest charm, 
You would forego the conquest of the world ? 

Alex. Madam, you best can tell what magic 
drew 
Me to your charms* but let it not be told • 
For your owm sake; take that conquered world, : 
Dispose of crowns and scepters as you please, - 
Let me but hare the freedom of an hour, 
To make account with this wronged innocence. 

Stmt You know, my lord, you did commit a 
fault: 
I ask but this, repeat your crime no more. 

Akx. O never, never. 

R&r. Am I rejected, then ? 

Akx. Exhaust my treasures, 
Take all the spoils of the fair conquered Indies; 
But, for the ease of my afflicted soul, 
Go, where I never may behold thee more. 

Rdx, Yes, I will go, ungrateful as thou art, 
Bane to my life ! thou torment of my days, 
Thou murderer of the world) for, as thy sword 
Hath cut the lives of thousand thousand men, 
So win thy tongue undo all wonuuvkmd. 
But I'll be gone ; this last disdain hath cured me, 
And I am now grown so indifferent, 
I could behold you kiss wkhbut a pang, 
Nay, take a torch and light you to your bed : 
But do not trust me, no, for if you do, 
By all the furies and the flames of love, 
By love, which is the hottest burning hell, 
ril set you both on fire to bhtze for ever. [Exit* 

Stat. O Alexander, is it possible? Good gods* 
That guilt can shew so lovely ! — yet I pardon* 
Forgive thee all, by thy dear life I do. 

Alex. Ha, pardon ! saidst thou, pardon me ? 

Syg. Now all thy mother's blessings fall upon 
thee, 
My best, my most- beloved, my own Statira ! 

Alex. Is it then true, that thou hast pardoned 
me? 
And is it given -me thus* to touch thy hand, 
And fold thy body in my longing arms ? 
To gaze upon thy eyes, my happier stars, 
To taste thy lip, and thy dear balmy breath, 
While every sigh comes forth so fraught with 

sweets, 
Tis incense to be offered to a god 

Stat. Yes, dear impostor, 'tis most true, that I 
Have pardoned thee ; and 'tis as true, that while 
I stand in view of thee> thy eyes will wound, 
Thy tongue will make me wanton as thy wishes ; 
And while I feel thy hand* my body glows : 
Therefore be quick, and take your last adieu, 
These yonr kfetsiehsjand these your parting tears: 
Farewell, farewell, a long and last farewell ! 



176 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lee. 



Alex. O my Hephestion, bear me, or I sink 

Stat. Nay, you may take— Heaven, how my 
heart throbs ! 
You may, you may, if yet you think me worthy, 
Take from these trembling lips a parting kiss. 

Alex. No, let me starve first — why, Statira, 
why ? 
What is the meaning of all this ? — gods ! 

I know the cause, my working brain divines 

You'll say you pardoned, but with this reserve, 
Never to make me blest as I have been, 
To slumber by the side of that false man, 
Nor give a heaven of beauty to a devil : 
Think you not thus ? Speak, madam. 

Sys. She is not worthy, son, of so much sorrow : 
Speak comfort to him, speak, my dear Statira, 
I ask thee by those tears : Ah ! canst thou e'er 
Pretend to love, yet with dry eyes behold him ? 

Alex. Silence more dreadful than severest 
sounds : 
Would she but speak, though death, eternal exile 
Hung on her lips, yet, while her tongue pronoun- 
ces, 
There must be music even in my undoing. 

Stat* Still, my loved lord, I cannot see you 
thus; 
Nor can I ever yield to share your bed : 
O I shall find Roxana in your arms, 
And taste her kisses left upon your lips. 

Alex. Yes, obstinate, I will, madam, you shall, 
You shall, in spite of this resistless passion, 
Be served ; but you must give me leave to think 
You never loved: — could I see you thus ! 
Hell has not half the tortures that you raise. 

Civ. Never did passions combat thus before. 

Ales. O I shall burst, 
Unless you give me leave to rave a while. 

Sys. Yet e'er destruction sweep us both away, 
Relent, and break through all to pity him ! 

Alex. Yes, I will shake this Cupid from my 
arms, 
If all the rages of the earth would fright him ; 
Drown him in the deep bowl of Hercules ; 
Make the world drunk, and then, like iEolus, 
When he gave passage to the struggling winds, 
111 strike my spear into the reeling globe 
To let it blood, set Babylon in a blaze, 
And drive this god of flames with more consu- 
ming fire. 

Stat. My presence will but force him to ex- 
tremes ; 
Besides, 'tis death to me to see his pains : 

Yet stand resolved never to yield again 

Permit me to remove. 

Alex. I charge ye, stay her ! 
For if she pass, by all the hell I feel, 
Your souls, your naked ghosts, shall wait upon 
her. 

O turn thee ! turn ! thou barbarous brightness, 

turn! 
Hear my last words, and see my utmost pang : 



But first kneel with me, all my soldiers kneel ! 

[All kneel. 
Yet lower — prostrate to the earth. Ah ! mo- 
ther, what, 
Will you kneel too ? Then let the sun stand soil. 
To see himself out-worshipped ; not a face 
Be shewn, that is not washed all o'er in tears, 
But weep as if you here beheld me slain. 

Sy*. Iiast thou a heart? or art thou savage 
turned ? 
But if this posture cannot move your mercy, 
I never will speak inore* 

Alex. O my Statira 1 
I swear, my queen, I'll not out-live thy hate, 
My soul is still as death — But one thing more, 
Pardon my last extremities — the transports 
Of a deep wouuded breast, and all is well. 

Stat. Rise, and may heaven forgive you all, 
like me. 

Alex. You are too gracious. — Clytus, bear me 
hence ; 
When I am laid in earth, yield her the world. 
There's something here heaves, as cold as ke, 
That stops my breath — Farewell, oh gods ! for 
ever. 

Stat. Hold off, and let me run into his arms, 
My dearest, my all love, my lord, my king ! 
You shall not die, if that the soul and body 
Of thy Statira can restore thy life : 
Give me thy wonted kindness. 

Alex. O the killing joy ! 
O extasy ! my heart will burst my breast, 
To leap into thy bosom ; but, by heaven, 
This night I will revenge me of thy beauties, 
For the dear rack I have this day endured ; 
For all the sighs and tears that I have spent, 
I'll have so many thousand burning lovps; 
So swell thy lips, so fill me with thy sweetness, 
Thou shalt not sleep nor close thy wandringeyes: 
The smiling hours snail all be loved away, 
We'll surfeit all the night, and languish all me 
day. 

Stat. Nor shall Roxana 

Alex. Let her not be named 

O mother ! how shall I requite your goodness ! 
And you, my fellow warriors, that could weep 
For your lost king — But I invite you all, 
My equals in the throne as in the grave. 
Without distinction to the riot come, 
To the king's banquet 

Cly. I beg your majesty 
Would leave me out. 

Alex. None, none shall be excused; 
All revel put the day, 'tis my command. 
Gay as the Persian god our self will stand, 
With a crowned goblet in our lifted hand. 
Young Amnion and Statira shall go round, 
While antic measures beat the burdened ground, S 
And to the vaulted skies on* clangors sound. ) 

[Exeunt 



} 



Lee.] 



British drama, 



177 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. 



.filter Clytus in his Macedonian habit; He- 
phestiov, Eumenes, Meleager, 4"<j. in Per- 
tunnies. 

Cfy. Awat, I will not wear these Persian 
robes; 
Nor ought the king be angry for the reverence 
I owe my country : sacred are her customs, 
Which honest Clytus shall preserve to death. 
let me rot in Macedonian rags, 
Bather than shine in fashions of the east 
IVo for the adorations he requires, 
Bout my old body in infernal flames, 
Or let ban cage me like Calisthenes. 
Etm. Dear Clytus, be persuaded. 
Hepk You know the kins 
& godlike, fall of all the richest virtues, 
Hat ever royal heart possessed ; yet you 
Perverse, bat to one humour will oppose him. 

Cfy. Call you it humour? 'tis a pregnant one, 
% Mars there's venom in it, burning pride ; 
Ai4 though my life should follow, rather than 
Bear such a hot ambition in my bowels, 
Td rip them up to give the poison vent 

Mele. Was not mat Jupiter, whom we adore, 
A man, but, for bis more than human acts, 
Advanced to heaven* and worshipped for its lord ! 
Bepfu By all his thunder and bis sovereign 

TO not believe the earth yet ever felt 
An arm like Alexander's ; not that god 
Yon named, though riding in a car of fire, 
And drawn by flying horses, winged with light- 
ning, 
Ctdd, in a shorter space, do greater deeds, 
Drive aU the nations, and lay waste the world. 
Cfy. There's not a man of war among you all, 
That loves the king like me ; yet 111 not flatter, 
Nor soothe his vanity, it is blameable ; 
And when the wine works, Clytus's thoughts will 
out 
Bepk Then go not to the banquet 
Cfy. I was called, 
My minion, waa I not, as well as you ? 
Hi go,- mv friends, in this old habit thus, 
And laugh, and drink the king's health heartily ; 
And while you, blushing, bow your heads to earth, 
And hide them in the dust, Til stand upright, 
Straight as a spear, the pillar of my country, 
And be by so much nearer to the gods— 
But see, the king and all the court appear. 

Ea/er Alexander, StsigaKbxs, Statira, Pa- 
ris at is, Sfc. 

Par. Spare him, O apace Lyshnachus bis life ! 
liaow you will ; kings should delight in mercy. 
Akx. Shield ine, Statira, shield me from her 

sorrow f 
Vol.L 



Par. O save him, save him, e'er it be too late! 
Speak the kind word, before the gaping lion 
Swallow him up ; let not your soldier perish 
But for one rashness, which despair did cause s 
I'll follow thus for ever on my knees, 
And make your way so slippery with tears, 
You shall not pass~-Sister, do you conjure him ! 

Alex. O mother, take her, take her from me J 

[Kneels* 
Her watry eyes assault my very soul, 
They shake my best resolve »- 

Stat. Did I not break 
Through all for you ? nay, now, my lord, yoU 
must 

Svs. Nor would I make my son so bold a prayer 
Had I not first consulted for his honour. 

Ales. Honour ! what honour ! has not Statira 
said it! 
Were I the kin* of the blue firmament, 
And the bold Titans should again make war, 
Though my resistless arrows were made ready, 
By alt the gods she should arrest my hand. 
Fly then, even thou, his rival so beloved, 
Fly with old Clytus, snatch him from the jaws 
Of the devouring beast, bring him adorned 
To the king's banquet, fit-for loads of honour. 

[Exeunt Heph. EumnPar. and Cfy* 

Stat. O my loved lord ! let me embrace your 
knees! 
I am not worthy of this mighty passion : 
You are too good for goddesses themselves i 
No woman, nor the sex, is worth a grain 
Of this illustrious life of my dear master. 
Why are you so divine, to cause such fondness, 
That my heart leaps, and beats, and fain would 

out, 
To make a dance of joy about your feot ? 

Ales. Excellent woman. ! no, 'tis impossible 
To say how much I love thee — Ha ! again ! 
Such extasks life cannot carry long ; . 
The day comes on so fast, and beamy joy 
Darts with such fierceness on me, night will fol- 
low. 
A pale crowned head flew lately glaring by me, 
With two dead hands, which threw a crystal globe 
From high, that shattered in a thousand pieces. 
But I will lose this boding dream hi wine ; 
Then, warm and blushing for my queen's embra- 
ces, 
Bear me, with all my heat, to thy loved bosom. 

Stat. Go, my best love, and cheer your droop- 
ing spirits ; 
Laugh with your friends, and talk your grief away, 
While, in the bower of great Semi rami 3, 
I dress your bed with all the sweets of Nature, 
And crown it as the altar of mv love ; 
Where I will lay me down, and softly mourn, 
But never close my eyes till you return. 

[Exeunt Stat. S*$. 
R 



178 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lie. 



Alex. Is she not more than mortal e'er can 
wish ! 
Diana's soul cast in the flesh of Venus ! 
By Jove, 'tis ominous, our parting is ; 
Her face looked pale too, as she turned away : 
And when I wrung her by the rosy fingers, 
Methought the strings of my great heart did 

crack. 
What should it mean ?— Forward, Leomedon. 

Koxana meets him> with CaSsander, Polyper- 
chon, Philip, and Thessalus. 

Why, madam, gaze you thus? 

Rox. For a last look, [She holds his hand. 
And that the memory of Roxana's wrongs 
May be for ever printed on your mind. 

Alex. O madam, you must let me pass. 

Rox. I will. 
But I have sworn, that you shall hear me speak, 
And mark me well, for fate is in my breath : 
Love on the mistress, you adore, to death ; 
Still hope, but I fruition will destroy ; 
Languish for pleasures, you shall ne'er enjoy. 
Still may Statira's image draw your sight, 
Like those deluding fires that walk at night ; 
Lead you through fragrant grots and flow'ry groves, 
And charm you through deep grass with sleeping 

loves ; 
That when your fancy to its height does rise, "\ 
That light, you loved, may vanish from your I 



eyes, 






Darkness, despair, and death, your wandering 
soul surprize. J 

Alex. Away ! lead, Meleager, to the banquet. 

[Ex. with Met 4-c. 
Rox. So unconcerned! O I could tear my 
flesh, 
Or him, or you, nay all the world to pieces. 

Cass. Still keep this spirit up, preserve it still, 
Lose not a grain, for such majestic atoms 
First made the world, and must preserve its 
greatness. 
Rox. I know I am whatever thou canst say. 
My soul is pent, and has not elbow room; 
T» swelled with this last slight, beyond all 

bounds : 
O that it had a space might answer to 
Its infinite desire, where I' might stand, 
And hurl the spheres about like sportive balls ! 
Cass. We are your slaves, admirers of your 
fury: 
Command Cassander to obey your pleasure, 
And I will on, swift as your nimble eye 
Scales heaven ; when I am angry with the fates, 
No age, nor sex, nor dignity of blood, 
No ties of law nor nature, not the life 
Imperial, though guarded by the gods, 
Shall bar Cassander*s vengeance — he shall die. 
Rox. 11a ! shall he die? shall I consent to kill 
him? 
To sec him clasped in the cold arms of death, 
Whom I with such an eagerness have loved ? 



Cass. If Alexander lives, yon cannot reign, 
Nor shall your child ; old Sysigambis' head 
Will not be idle — sure destruction waits 
Both you and yours; let not your anger cool, 
But give the word ; say, Alexander bleeds, 
Draw the dry veins of all the Persian race, 
And hurl a ruin o'er the east, 'tis done. 

Pol. Behold the instruments of this great 
work. 

Phil. Behold your forward slave. 

Thesu I'll execute. 

Rox. And when this ruin is accomplished, 
where 
Shall curst Roxana fly with this dear load ? 
Where shall she find a refuge from the arms 
Of all the successors of tliis great man ? 
No barbarous nation will receive a guilt 
So much transcending theirs, but drive me out : 
The wildest beasts will hunt me from their dens, 
And birds of prey molest me in the grave. 

Cass. No, you shall live — pardon roe insolence 
Which this almighty love enforces from me— 
You shall live safer, nobler than before, 
In your Cassander's arms. 

llox. Disgraced Roxana, whither wilt thou fall? 
I ne'er was truly wretched till this moment: 
There's not one mark of former majesty 
To awe my slave, that offers at my honour. 

Cass. Madam, I hope you'll not impute my 
passion 
To want of that respect, which I must bear you; 
Long have I love d 

Rox. Peace, most audacious villain, 
Or I will stab this passion in thy throat ! 
What, shall I leave the bosom of a deity, 
To clasp a clod, a moving piece of earth, 
Which a mole heaves ? So far art thou beneath 
mc. 

Cass. Your majesty shall hear no more folly. 

Rox. Nor dare to meet my eyes ; for if thou 
dost 
With a love-glance, thy plots are all unravelled, 
And your kind thoughts of Alexander told, 
Whose life, in spite of all his wrongs to me, 
Shall be for ever sacred and untouched. 

Cass. I know, dread madam, that Cassander's 
life 
Is in your hands, so cast to do yov service. 

Rox. You thought, perhaps, because I practised 
charms 
To gain the kins;, that I had loose desires': 
No, 'tis my pride, that gives me height of pte* 

sure, 
To see the man, by all the world admired, 
Bowed to fny bosom, and my captive there. 

Cass. By your own life, the greatest oath I 
swear, 
Cassander's passion from this time is dumb. 

Rox. No, if I were a wanton, I would make 
Princes the victims of my raging fires : 
I, like the changing moon, would have the star* 
My followers, and mantled kings by night 



Lke.J 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



170 



Should rait my call ; fine slaves to quench my 

dame, 
Who, Jest k dreams they should reveal the deed, 
SdU as they came, successively should bleed. 
Cass. To make atonement for the highest 



I beg your majesty will take the life 
Of qoeen Staura as a sacrifice. 

Jtor. Rise, thoa hast made ample expiation ; 
Yes, yes, Statira, rival, thou must die ; 
I know this night is- destined for my ruin, 
And Alexander from the glorious revels 
Hies to thy arms. 

PhiL The bowers of Semiramis are made 
The scene this night of their new kindled loves. 
Kar. Methinks I see her yonder, (oh the tor- 
ment!) 
Busy for Miss, and full of expectation : 
She adorns her head, and her eyes give new 

lustre; 
LangnrAps in her glass, tries all her looks ; 
Steps to the door, and listens for his coming ; 
Bans to the bed, and kneels, and weeps, ajid 

wishes, 
Then lavs me pillow easy for his head, 
Warms it with sighs, and moulds it with her 

kisses. 
Oh, I am lost ! tarn with imagination ! 
Kill me, Cassander, kill roe instantly, 
That I may haunt her with a thousand devils ! 
Cast. Why do you stop to end her while you 
may/ 
No time so proper as the present; now 
While Alexander feasts with all his court : 
Gi*e me your eunuchs, half your Zogdian slaves, 
HI do the deed ; nor shall a waiter escape, 
That serves your rival, to relate the news. 
PoL She was committed to Eumenes* charge. 
Rax. Etimenes dies, and all that are about her, 
Nor shall I need your aid ; you'll love again ; 
HI head the slaves myself, with this drawn dag- 

G er » 
To carry death, that's worthy of a queen. 

A common fate ne'er rushes from my hand; 

Tis more than life to die by my command : 

And when she sees, 

That to my arm her ruin she must owe, "1 

Her thankful head will straight be beaded low, > 

Her heart shall leap half way to meet the blow. 3 

[Exit Roxana. 

Cess. Go thy ways, Semele — she scorns to sin 
Beneath a god — We mast be swift ; the ruin 
We intend, who knows, she may discover ? 

PpL It must be acted suddenly; to night ; 
Now— at the banquet ; Philip holds his cup. 

PhiL And dares to execute— propose his fate. 

Cats. Observe in this small phial certain death; 
It holds a poison of such deadly force, 
Should JEsculapius drink it, in five hours 
(For then it works) the god himself were mor- 
tal. 
I drew it from Nonarris' horrid spring ; 



A drop infused in wine will seal his death, 
And send him howling to the lowest shades. 

Phil. Would it were done ! 

Cast. O we shall have him tear 
(E'er yet the moon has half her journey rode) 
The world to atoms ; for it scatters pains 
All sorts, and through all nerves, veins, arteries. 
Even with extremity of frost, it burns ; 
Drives the distracted soul about her house, 
Which runs to all the pores, the doors of life, 
Till she is forced for air to leave her dwelling. 

PoL By Pluto's self, the work is wondrous 
brave. 

Cats. Now separate : Philip and Thessalus, 
Haste to the banquet ; at his second call 
Give him that fatal draught, that crowns the 

night, 
While Polyperchon and myself retire. 

Exeunt omnes, prater Cassander* 
Yes, Alexander, now thou pay'st me well ; 
Blood for a blow is interest indeed. 
Methinks I am grown taller with die murder, 
And, standing straight on this majestic pile, 
I hit the clouds, and see the world below me ! 
Oh, 'tis the worst of racks to a brave spirit, 
To be born base, a vassal, a cursed slave ; 
Now, by the project labouring in my brain, 
'Tis nobler far to be a king in hell, 
To head infernal legions, chiefs below, 
To let them loose for earth, to call them in, 
And take account of what dark deeds are done, 
Than be a subject-god in heaven, unblcst, 
And without mischief have eternal rest ! [Exit. 

SCENE n. 

The Scene draws, Alexander is seen standing 
on a throne, with all his commanders about 
him, holding goblets in their hands. 

Alex. To our immortal health, and our fair 

Sueen's; 
: it deep, and while it flies about, 
Mars and Bellona join to make us music 
A hundred bulls be offered to the sun, 
White as his beams — speak the big voice of war, 
Beat all our drums, and blow our silver trum- 
pets, 
Till we provoke the gods to act our pleasure, 
In bowls of nectar and replying thunder ! 



repi 
[So 



und while they drink. 

Enter Hephestion, Clytus, leading Lysima- 
chus in his shirt, bloody ; Perdiccas, Guard. 

Cly. Long live the king, and conquest crown 
his arms 
With laurels ever-green : Fortune's his slave, 
And kisses all that fight upon his side. 

Alex. Did not I give command you should 
preserve 
Lysimachus ? 
Heph. You did. 
Alex. What, then, portend those bloody marks ? 



leo 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lib. 



Heph. Your mercy dew too late : Perdiccas 
had, 
According to the dreadful charge you gave, 
Already placed the prince in a lone court, 
Unarmed, all but his hands, on which he wore 
A pair of gauntlets ; such was his desire, 
To shew in death the difference betwixt 
The blood of the /Eacides, and common men. 

Cly. At last the door of an old lion's den 
Being drawn rip, the horrid beast appeared : 
The flames, which from his eyes snot glooming 

red, 
Made the sun start, as the spectators thought, 
And round them cast a day of blood and death. 

Heph, When we arrived, just as the valiant 
prince 
Cried out, ' O Parisatis, take my life ; 
Tis for thy sake I go undaunted thus, 
To be devoured by this most dreadful creature/ 

Cly. Then walking forward, the large beast 
descried 
His prey, and with a roar, that made us pale, 
Flew fiercely on him ; but the active prince, 
Starting aside, avoided his first shock, 
With a slight hurt, and as the lion turned, 
Thrust gauntlet, arm and all, into his throat, 
And, with Herculean force, tore forth by the roots 
The foaming bloody tongue ; and while the sa- 
vage, 
Faint with that loss, sunk to the blushing earth, 
'To plough it with his teeth, your conquering sol- 
dier 
Leaped on his back, and dashed his skull to pieces. 

Alex. By all my laurels, 'twas a godlike act, 
And 'tis my glory, as it shall be thine, 
That Alexander could not pardon thee. 
O my brave soldier, think not all the prayers 
Of the lamenting queens could move my soul 
like what thou hast performed : Grow to my 
breast. [Embraces him. 

Lys. However love did hurry my wild arm, 
When I was cool, my feverish blood did bate. 
And as I went to death, I blest the king. 

Alex. Lysimaohus, we both have been trans- 
ported, 
But from this hour be certain of my heart ; 
A lion be the impress of thy shield, 
And that golden armour, we from Porus won, 
The king presents thee : but retire to bed, 
Thy toils ask rest. 

Lys. I have no wounds to hinder, 
Of any moment ; or if I had, though mortal, 
Vd stand to Alexander's health, till all 
My veins were dry, and fill them up again 
With that rich blood, which makes the gods im- 
mortal. 

Alex. Hephestion, thy hand, embrace him 
dose j 

Though next my heart you hang, the jewel there, 
For scarce I know whether my queen be nearer, 
Thou shalt not rob me of my glory, youth, 
f hat must to ages flourish— Parisatis 



Shall now be his, that serves me best in war : 
Neither reply, but mark the charge I give, 
And live as friends — sound, sound my armies ho* 

nour ; 
Health to their bodies, and eternal fame 
Wait on their memory, when those are ashes ! 
Live all ! you must, 'tis a god gives you Ufa, 

[Sound. 
[Lysimachus offer* Clytus a Tertian robe^ 
which he refuses. 

Civ. O vanity ! 

Alex. Ha ! what says Clytus ? 
Who am I? 

Cly. The son of good king Philip. 

Alex. No, 'tis false ; 
By all my kindred in the skies, 
Jove made my mother pregnant. 

Cly. I have done. 
[Here follows an entertainment of Indian singers 
and dancers : The music flourishes.'] 

Alex. Hold, hold ; Clytus, take the robe, 

Cly. Sir, the wine, 
The weather's hot ; besides you know my bo- 
mour. 

Alex. O 'tis not well : I'd burn rather than be 
So singular and froward. 

Cly. So would I, 
Burn, hang, or drown, but in a better cause j 
I'll drink or fight for sacred majesty 
With any here— Fill me another bowl ! 
Will you excuse me ) 

Alex. You will be excused ; . 
But lot him have his humour, he is old. 

Cly. So was your father, sir— This to hb roe* 
mory : 
Sound all the trumpets there. 

Alex. They shall not sound 
Till the king drinko — By Mars, I cannot take 
A moment's rest for all my years of blood, 
But one or other will oppose my pleasure. 
Sure I was formed for war ; 
All, all are, Alexander's enemies ; 

Which I could tame- Yes, the rebellious world 

Should feel my wraths—But let the sports go on. 

[The Indians dance. 

Lys. Nay, Clytus, you that could advise—— 

Alex. Forbear; 
Let him persist, be positive, and proud, 
Sullen and dazzled, amongst the noble souls, 
Like an infernal spirit, that had stole 
From hell, and mingled with the laughing gods. 

Cly. When gods grow hot, Where's the differ- 
ence 
'Twixt them and devils ? Fill me greek wine ! yet 

fuller, 
Fof I want spirits. 

Alex. Ha f let me hear a song. 

Cly. Music for boys— Clytus would bear the 
groans 
Of dying persons, and the horses' neighiags; 
Or, if I must be tortured with shrill voices, 
Give me the cries of matrons in sacked towns. 



Lbb.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



181 



Hepk lysunachus, the king looks sad; let us 
awake him : 
Health to the son of Jupiter Amnion ! 
Era? man take his goblet in his hand, 
Kneel all, and kiss the earth with adoration. 
Alex. Sound, sound, that all the universe may 

That I amid speak like Jove, to tell abroad 
The kindness of my people — Rise, O rise, 
My hinds, my arms, my heart is ever yours. 

[Comes from his throne* all kits his hand. 

Chf. I did not kiss the earth, nor must your 
hand, 
I am unworthy, air. 

Akx. I know thou art, 
Thou enviest my great honour — Sit, my friends ; 
If ay, I most hare room — Now let us oik 
Of war, for what more fits a soldier's mouth ? 
And apeak, speak freely, or you do not love me, 
Who, think you, was the bravest general 
That ever led an army to the field? 

Hepk. I think the sun himself ne'er saw a 
chief 
So truly great, so fortunately brave, 
As Alexander : not the famed Alcides, 
Nor fierce Achilles, who did twice destroy, 
With their all-conquering arms, the famous Troy. 

J*l Sochwas not Cyrus. 

Atei. O you flatter me. 

Chf. They doindeed, and yet you love them for it, 
Bat sate old Clytus for his hardy virtue. 
Come, shall I speak a man more brave than you, 
A better general, and a more expert soldier ? 

Alex. I should be glad to learn ; instruct me, 
sir. 

Cly. Your father Philip— I have seen him 
march, 
And fought beneath his dreadful banner, where 
The stoutest at the table would have trembled : 
Nay, frown not, sir ; you cannot look me dead. 
When Greeks joined Greeks, then was the tug 

of war, 
The laboured battle sweat, and conquest bled. 
Why should I fear to speak a truth more'noble 
Then e'er your father, Jupiter Amnion, told you ? 
Philip /ought men, but Alexander women. 

Alex. Spite ! by the gods, proud spite ! and 
burning envy! 
Is then my glory come to this at last, 
To vanounh women ? Nay, he said the stoutest 

nere 
Would tremble at die dangers he had seen. 
In all the sickness and the wounds I bore, 
When from my reins the javelin head was cut, 



ephestion, speak, Perdiccas, 
Did I e'er tremble? O the cursed liar ! ?• 
Ml once shake or groan? or bear myself 
Beneath my majesty, my dauntless courage ? 

Heph. Wine has transported him. 

Alex. No, 'tis plain mere malice : 
I was a woman too at Oxydrace, 
When planting at the walls 9 scaling ladder, 



I mounted, spite of showers of stones, bars, ar- 
rows, 
And all the lumber, which they thundered down. 
When you beneath cried out, and spread your arms, 
That I should leap among you, did I so ? 

Lyt. Turn the discourse, my lord, the old man 
raved. 

Alex. Was I a woman, when, like Mercury, 
I left the walls to fly amongst my foes, 
And, like a baited lion, dyed myself 
All over with the blood of those bold hunters? 
Till spent with toil, I battled on my knees, 
Plucked forth the darts, that made my shield a 

forest, 
And hurled them back with most unconquered 
fury. 

Cly. Twas all bravado, for before you leaped, 
You saw that I had burst the gates asunder. 

Alex. Did I then turn me, like a coward, round. 
To seek for succour ? Age cannot be so base ; 
That thou wert young again ! I would put off 
My majesty, to be more terrible, 
That, like an eagle, I might strike this hare 
Trembling to earth ; shake thee to dust, and tear 
Thy heart for this bold lye, thou feeble dotard! 

Cly. What, do you pelt me, like a boy, with 
apples? [He tosses fruit at him as they rise. 
Kill me, and bury the disgrace I feel ! 
I know the reason that you use me so, 
Because I saved your life at Granicus; 
And, when your back was turned, opposed my 

breast 
To bold Rhesaces' sword ; you hate me for it, 
You do, proud prince. 

Alex. Away : your breath's too hot. 

[Flings him from him. 

Cly. You hate the benefactor, though you took 
The gift, your life, from this dishonoured Clytus ; 
Which is the blackest, worst ingratitude. 

Alex. Go, leave the banquet : Thus far I for- 
give thee. 

Cly. Forgive yourself for all your blasphemies, 
The riots of a most debauched and bloated life ; 
Philotas' murder 

Alex. Ha ! What said the traitor ? 

1ms. Eumenes, let us force him hence. 

Cly, Away! 

lieph. Ypu shall not tarry : Drag him to the 
door. 

Cly. No, let him send me, if I must be gone, 
To Philip, Attalus, Calisthenes ; 
To great Parmenio, to his slaughtered sons : 
Parmenio,. who did many brave exploits 
Without the king — the king, without him, nothing. 

Alex. Give me a javelin! 

[Takes one from the guards. 

Heph. Hold, sir ! 

Alex. Off, sirrah ! lest 
At once I strike it through his heart and thine. 

Lys. O sacred sir, have but a moment's pa- 
tience! 

Alex. Preach patience to another lion — what, 



1 

L 



IK 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lw> 



Hold my arms? I shall be murdered here, 
like poor Darius, by my own barbarous subjects. 
Panaceas, sound niy trumpets to die camp, 
Call my soldiers to the court; nay haste, 
For there is treasou plotting against my life, 
And I shall perish ere they come to rescue. 

lys, and Heph. Let us all die, ere think so 
dunned a deed. [Kneel. 

Alex. Where is the traitor? 

C/y. Sure there is none about you ; 
But here stands honest Clytus, whom the king 
Invited to his banquet. 

Alex, Begone and sup with Philip, 

[Strikes him through. 
IVumemo, Attains, Cahsthenes ; 
And let bold subjects learn, by thy sad fate, 
To tempt the patience of a man much above 



Cfy. The rage of wine is drowned in gushing 

blood: 
O Alexander, I hare been to blame ; 
Hate me not after death, for I repent, 
That so I urged your noblest, sweetest nature. 
Alex. What's this I hear? say on, my dying 

soldier. 
Cly. I should have killed myself, had \ but 

lived 
To be once sober — Now I fall with honour, 
My own hand would have brought foul death. — 

O pardon! [Diet. 

Alex. Then I am lost ; what has my vengeance 

done ? 
Who is it thou hast slain ? Clytus ; what was he ? 
Hie faithfullest subject, worthiest counsellor, 
Who for saving thy life, when 
Thou foughtst bare-headed at the river Granicus, 
Has now a noble recompense for speaking rashly ; 
For a forgetrulness, which wine did work, 
The poor, the honest Clytus thou hast slain. 
Are these the laws of hospitality ? 
Thy friends will shun thee now, and stand at dis- 
tance, 
Nor dare to speak their minds, nor eat with thee, 
Nor drink, lest by thy madness they die too. 
Heph. Guards, take the body hence. 
Ales. None dare to touch him, 
For we must never part. Cruel Hephestion 
And Lyshnachus, that had the power, 
And would not hold me ! 
1m*. Dear sir, we did. 
Ales. I know it ; 
Ye held me like a beast, to let me go 
With greater violence — Oh you have undone me ! 
Excuse it not; you, that could stop a lion, 
Could not turn me : You should have drawn your 

swords, 
And barred my rage with their advancing points ; 
Made reason glitter in my dazzled eyes, 



Till I had seen what ruin did attend me : 
That had been noble, that had shewed a friend; 
Clytus would so have done to save your oves. 

Lys. When men shall hear how highly yoa 
were urged 

Alex.Na, vou have let me stain my riangvutue, 
Which else had ended brighter than the son. 
Death, hell, and furies ! von have sunk my glory : 
Oh, I am all a blot, which seas of tears, 
And my heart's blood, can never wash away ; 
Yet 'tis but just I try, and on the point. 
Still reeking, hurl my black polluted breast 

Heph. O sacred sir, that must not he. 

Eum. Forgive my pious hands. 

Lys. And mine, that dare disarm my master. 

Ales. Yes, cruel men, ye now can shew your 
strength! 
Here's not a slave but dares oppose my justice; 
Yet I will render all endeavours vain, 
That tend to save ray life— Here I will \k[¥alk 
Close to his bleeding side, thus Jussinghua; 
These pale dead lips, that have so oft advised mc; 
Thus bathing o'er his reverend face in tears; 
Thus clasping his cold body in my arms. 
Till death, like him, has made me stiff and horrid 

Heph. What shall we do? 

Lvs. I know not, my wounds bleed afresh 
With striving with him : Perdiccas, lend as your 
arm. [Etnnt Perdiecms, lysimmchus. 

Heph. Call Aristander hither ; 
Or Meleager, let us force him from the body. 

Cries without — Arm ! Arm ! Treason, Treason! 
, Enter Perdiccas bloody. 

Per. Haste, all take arms ! Hephestion, where's 
the king? 

Heph. There, by old Clytus' side, whom he has 
slain. 

Per. Then misery on misery will fall, 
Like rolling billows, to advance the storm. 
Rise, sacred sir, and haste to aid the queen; . 
Roxana, filled with furious jealousy, 
Came with a guard of Zogdian slaves unmasked, 
And broke upon me with such sudden rage, 
That all are perished, who resistance made : 
I only with these wounds, through clashing spears, 
Have forced my way, to give you timely notice. 

Alex. What says Perdiccas ? Is the queen in 
danger? 

Per. She dies, unless you tarn her rate, and 
quickly : 
Your distance from the place asks more speed, 
And the ascent to the flying grove is high. 

Alex. Thiwfrommyjpivel rise to save my love, 
All draw your swords, with wint^o/ligfatniat> more; 
When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay, 
lis beauty calls, and glory shews the way. 



Lie.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



143 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. 



Statiaa if discovered sleeping in the bower of 
Sevieamis; the spirits of Queen St ati ra, her 
Mother, and Darius, appear standing on each 
side of her, with daggers, threatening her.—* 
They sing. 

Dar. Is innocence so void of cares, 

That it can undisturbed sleep, 
Amid st the noise of horrid wart, 

That make immortal spirits weep 9 
Stat No boding crows, nor ravens come, 
To morn her of approaching doom. 
Dar. She walks, as she dreams, in a garden of 



And her hands are employed in the beautiful 

hewers; 
She dreams of the man that is far from the grove, 
And all her soft fancy still runs on. her love, 
Stat She nods o'er the brooks, that run purling 

And the nightingales hsU her mere fast with a 
song. 
Dnr. Bat see the sad end which the gods have 



Stat This potnaird's thy fate. 
Oar. My daughter must bleed, 
Chorus Awake then, Statira, awake, for alas 
you must die ; 
Etr an hour be past, you must breathe out your 
last. 
Dar. And be such another at I. 
Stat. As I. 
Chorus. And be such another as L [Exeunt. 

Statira sola. 

Stat. Bless me, ye powers above, and guard 
my virtue ! 
I ant, nor wnsft a dream, I saw and heard 
My royal parents, there I saw them stand ; 
My eyes beheld their precious images ; 
I neard their heavenly voices : Where, O where 
Fled job so rast, dear shades, from my embraces? 
Toa told me this — this hour should be my last, 
And I must bleed — Away, 'tis all delusion ! 
Dt/I not wait for Alexander's coming ? 
None but my loving lord can enter here : 
And will he kill me ? — hence, fantastic shadows ! 
And yet methinks he should not stay thus long; 
Why do I tremble thus? If I bot stir, 
The motion of my robes makes my heart leap. 
When will the dear man come, that oil my doubts 
Hay vanish in his breast? That I may hold him 
Fast as my fears can make me ; hug him close 
As ibv fond soul can wish; give all my breath 
m s*j» and kisses; swoon, die away with rapture ! 

fiat hark ! I hear him [Noise within. 

Jam I would hide my blushes — 

I hear his tread, but dare not go to meet him. 



Enter Roxana, with slaves and a dagger* 

Rax. At length we have conquered this 
pendous height, 
These lying groves, whose wonderful ascent 
Leads to the clouds. 

Stat. Then all the vision's true, [Retires. 

And I most die, lose my dear lord for ever: 
That, that is the murderer. 

Rox. Shut the farasen cate, 
And make it fast with all the massy bars. 
I know the king will ny to her rehef, 
But we have time enough — Where is my rival? 
Appear, Statira, now no more a oneen; 
Roxana calls; where is your majesty? 

Stat. And what is she, who with such t o w er 
jng pride, 
Would awe a princess, that is born above her* 

Rox. I like the port i m per ia l beauty bears, 
It shews thou hast a spirit it to fall 
A sacrifice to fierce Hoxana's wrongs. 
Be sudden then, put forth these royal breasts, 
Where our false master has so often languished, 
That 1 may change their milky innocence 
To blood, and dye me in a deep revenge. 

Stat. No, barbarous woman, though. I durst 
meet death 
As boldly as our lord, with a reserve, 
At which thy coward heart would tremble ; 
Yet I disdain to stand the Cate you offer, 
And therefore, fearless of thy dreadful urenta, 
Walk thus regardless by thee. 

Rot. Ha ! so stately ! 
This sore will sink you. 

Stat. No, Roxana, no : 
The blow you give will strike me to the stars, 
But sink my murderess in eternal ruin. 

Rox. Who told you this? 

Stat. A thousand spirits tell me : 
There's not a sod but whispers in my ear, 
This death will crown me with immortal glory; 
To die so fair, so innocent, so young, 
Will make me company for queens above, 

Rox. Preach on. 

Stat. While you, the burden of the earth, 
Fall to the deep, so heavy with thy guilt, 
That hell itself must groan at thy reception; 
While foulest fiends shun thy society, 
And thou shalt walk alone, forsaken fury! 

Rox. Heaven witness for me, I would spare 
*yhfe, 
If any thing but Alexander's love 
Were in debate ; come, give me back bis heart, 
And thou shnlt live empress of all the world 

Stat. The world is less than Alexander's love, 
Yet could I give it, 'tis not in my power ; 
This I dare promise, if you spare my life. 
Which I disdain to beg, he shall speak kindly. 

Rox. Speak ! is that all ? 



184 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Ln. 



Stat. Perhaps at my request, 
And for a gift so noble as my life, 
Bestow a kiss. 

Rox. A kiss! no more? 

Stat. O gods ! 
What shall I say to work her to my end? 
Fain I would see him — Yes, a little more- 
Embrace you, and for ever be your friend. 

Rax. O the provoking word! Your friend! 
thou diest : 
Your friend ! What, must I bring you then toge- 
ther? 
Adore your bed, and see you softly laid ? 
By all my pangs, and labours of my love, 
This has thrown off all that was sweet and gentle. 
Therefore 

Stat. Yet hold thy hand advanced in air ; 
I see my death is written in thy eyes. 
Therefore wreak all the lust of vengeance on me, 
Wash in my blood, and steep thee m my gore ; 
Feed like a vulture, tear my bleeding heart 
But, O Roxana ! that there may appear 
A glimpse of justice for thy cruelly, 
A grain of goodness for a mass of evil, 
Give me my death in Alexander's presence ! 

Rax. Not for the rule of heaven — Are you so 
cunning? 
What, you would have him mourn you as you fall ? 
Take your farewell, and taste such healing kisses, 
As might call back your soul. No, thou shalt fall 
Now, and when death has seized thy beauteous 

limbs, 
HI have thy body thrown into a well, 
Buried beneath a heap of stones for ever. 

Enter a Slave. 

Slave. Madam, the king with all his captains 
and his guards 
Are forcing ope the doors, he threatens thousand 

deaths 
To all that stop his entrance, and I believe 
Your eunuchs will obey him. 

Rox. Then I must haste. [Stabs her. 

• Stat. What, is the king so near ? 
And shall I die so tamely, thus defenceless? 
O ye gods, will you not help my weakness ? 
Rax. They are afar off. [Stabbing her. 

Stat. Alas ! they are indeed. 

Enter Alexander, Cassanoer, Polyperchon, 
Guards and Attendants. 

Alex* Oh happy ! Thou shalt reign the queen 

of devils. 
Rox. Do, strike, behold my bosom swells to 
meet thee ; 
Tis full of thine, of veins that run ambition, 
And I can brave whatever fate you bring. 
Alex. Call our physicians ! haste ! HI give an 
empire 
To save her— Oh my soul, alas Stadra ! 
These wounds,— Oh gods, are these my promised 
joys! 

2 



Enter Physicians, 

Stat. My cruel love, my weeping Alexander, 
Would I had died before you entered here ! 
For now I ask my heart an hundred Questions; 
What ! must I lose my life, my lord, tor ever? 
Alex. Ha! villains, are they mortal?— what, 

retire! 
Raise your dashed spirits from the earth, and say, 
Say she shall live, and I will make you kings. 
Give me this one, this poor, this only life, 
And I will pardon you for all the wounds, 
Which your arts widen, all diseases, deaths, 
Which your damned drugs throw through the 

lingering world. 
Rox. Rend not your temper; see a general 

silence 
Confirms the bloody pleasure, which I sought; 

She dies. 

Alex. And darest thou, monster, 'mink to 

escape? 
Stat. life's on the wing, — my love, my Void, 
Come to my arms, and take the last adieu. 
Here let me lie, and languish out my soul. 
Alex. Answer me, rather, wilt thou take her 

from me? 
What, is the black, sad hour at last arrived, 
That I must never clasp her body more ? 
Never more bask in her eye-shine again ? 
Nor view the loves, that played in those dear 

beams, 
And shot me with a thousand thousand smiles? 
Stat. Farewel, my dear, my life, my most 

loved lord, 
I swear by Orosmades, 'tis more pleasure, 
More satisfaction that I thus die yours, 
Than to have lived another's — Grant me one 

thing. 
Alex. All, all,— but speak that I may execute 
Before I follow thee, 

Stat. Leave not the earth 
Before Heaven calls you ; spare Roxana's fifes 
Twaa love of you, that caused her give me death; 
And, O ! sometimes, amidst your revels, think 
Of your poor queen, and ere the chearful bowl 
Salute your lips, crown it with one rich tear, 
And I am happy. (Dies. 

Alex* Close not thy eyes } 
Tilings of import I have to speak before 
Thou takest thy journey : — Tell the gods Tat 

coming, 
To give them an account ef life and death, 
And many other hundred thousand policies, 
That much concern the government of he avca 
O she is gone ! the talking soul is route ! 
She's hushed, no voice of musie now is heard! 
The bower of beauty is more still than death; 
The roses fade, and the melodious bird. 
That waked their sweets, has left them now for 

ever. 
Rox. Tis certain now you never shall enjey 

her; 



Lbs.) 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



185 



Therefofe Roam may bote leave to hops 
toa silt si to be kind, for aU my offerings, 
Mv torments, racks, for this last dreadful murder, 
Wtoch furious loVe oi thee did; bring upon me* 
Alex. thou vile creature I beat thee from 
mysfeat, 
And thsnk Statira, that thotr art alive : 
Ehe dm hadst perished ; yes, I would hare rent^ 
Wita bit just hands, that* rock, that marble heart ; 
I would bare dived through seas of Wood to 

find it, 
To tear the cruel quarry from it* center. 
.Bar. take me to your arms, and hide* my 
blushes! 
1 love you spite of all your cruelties ; 
That is so much divmtty about you, 
1 tremble to approach : yet here's my hold, 
Nor «i0 1 leave the sacred robe, for such 
li eterj thing, that touches that blest body: 
W bait as the refic of a god, 
And love shall grasp it with these dying hands. 
Akx. that thou wert srman, that I might 
drive 
Thee round the world, and scatter thy contagion, 
Astodsharl mortal plagues, when they are angry ! 
-Bar. Do, drive me, hew me into smallest 



Mv dust shall be inspired with a new fondness-; 
Swl die lore-motes shall play before your eyes, 
Where'er you go* however you despise. 

Alex. Away ! there's not a glance that flies 
from thee, 
But, like a basilisk, comes winged with death: 

•Bar. O speak not such harsh words, my royal 



Look not so dreadful on your kneeling servant; 
But take, dear sir, O take me into grace, 
Bf die dear babe, the burden of my womb, 
That weighs me down, when I would follow 



My knees are weary, and my force Is spent: 
do not frown, but clear thy angry brow ! 
Your eyes will blast me, and your words are bolts, 
That strike me dead; the little wretch I bear, 
Leaps frighted at your wrath, and dies within 



Akx. O thou hast touched my soul so tenderly, 
That I will raise thee, though thy hands are 

ruin. 
Bias, cruel woman, rise, and have a care, 
do not hurt that unborn innocence, 
for whose dear sake I now forgive thee all. 
Bat haste, begone ! fly, fly from these sad eyes, 
ftv with thy pardon, lest I call it back ; 
Though I forgive thee, I must hate thee ever. 

Jm*. I go, I fly for ever from thy sight 
My mortal injuries have turned my mind, 
And I could corse myself for being kind. 
If there be any majesty above, 
That has revenge in store for perjured love, 
Send, Heaven, the swiftest ruin on his head ; 
Strike the destroyer, lay the victor dead ; 

Vol. I. 



Kill the triumphef , and avenge my wrong, 
In height of pomp, white he is warm and 

young; 
Bolted with thunder let him rush alone. 
And when in the last pangs of life he lies, 
Grant I may stand to dart him with my eyes : 
Nay, after death, 

Pursue bos spotted gbost^ and shoot him as be flies ! 

[Exit. 

Alex. O my fair star, I shall be shortly with 
thee; 
For I already feel the sad effects 
Of those most fatal imprecations. 
What means this deadly dew upon my forehead? 
My heart too heaves. 

Cass. It will anon be still—— [Aside. 

The poison works. 

Pol. Fll see the wished effect [Aside. 

Ere' I remove, and gorge me with revenge. 

Enter PeeDiccas and Lysimachus. 

Per. I beg your majesty will pardon me, 
A fatal messenger; 

Great Symgambia, hearing Statira's death. 
Is now no more ; 

Her last words gave the princess to the brave 
Lvsimachus : but that, which most will strike you, 
Your dear Hephestion, having drank too largely 
At your last feast, is of a surfeit dead. 

Alex. How ! dead ? Hephestion dead ? alas the 
dear 
Unhappy youth !— But he sleeps happy, 
I must wake for ever :— This object, this, 
This face of fatal beauty, 
Will stretch my lids with vast, eternal tears— 
Who had the care of poor Hephestion's life ? 

1ms. Philarda, the Arabian artist. 

Alex, Fly, Meleager, hang him on a cross ! 
That for Hephestio n   
But here lies my fate ; Hephestion, Clytua, 
All my victories for ever folded up : 
In this, dear body my banner's lost, 
My standard's triumphs gone ! 
O when shall I be mad ? Give order to 
The army, that they break their shields, sword*} 



8 




Pound their bright armour into dust; away ! 
Is there not cause to put the world In mourning? 
Tear all your robes : — he dies, that is not naked 
Down to the waste, all like the sons of sorrow. 
Burn all the spires, that seem to kiss the sky ; 
Beat down the battlements of every city :, 
And for the monument of this loved creature, 
Root up those bowers, and pave them all with 

gold: 
Draw dry the Ganges, make the Indies poor; 
To build her tomb, no shrines nor altars spare, 
But strip the shining gods to make it rare. [Exit* 
Cass. Ha ! whither now? follow him, Polyper- 
chon. Exit JW, 

I find Cassander's plot grows full of death ; 
Murder is playing uer great master-piece, 

S 



r 



186 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Lw, 



And the sad sisters sweat, so fast I urge them: 

how I hug myself for this revenge ! 

My fancy's great in mischief; for methinks 
The night grows darker, and the labouring ghosts. 
For fear that I should find new torments out, 
Run o'er the old with most prodigious swiftness. 

1 see the fatal fruit betwixt the teeth, 

The sieve brim full, and the swift stone stand still. 

Enter Polyperchon. 

What, does it work f 

Pol Speak softly. 

Cast. Well. 

Pol. It does; 
I followed him, and saw him swiftly walk 
Toward the palace ; oftimes looking back, 
With watry eyes, and calling out Statin. 
He stumbled at the gate, and fell along ; 
Nor was he raised with ease by his attendants, 
But seemed a greater load than ordinary, 
As much more as the dead outweigh the living. 

Cass. Said he nothing ? 

PoL When they took him up, 
He sighed, and entered with a strange wild look, 
Embraced the princes round, and said he must 
Dispatch the business of the world in haste. 

Enter Philip and Thessalus. 

PhiL Back, back, all scatter— With a dreadful 
shout 
I heard him cry, * I am but a dead man !' 

Thess. The poison tears him with that height 
of horror, 
That I could pity him. 

Pol. Peace where shall we meet ? 

Cass*, On Saturn's field. 
Methinks I see the frighted deities, 
Ramming more bolts in their big-bellied clouds, 
And firing all the heavens to drown his noise. 
Now we should laugh But go* disperse your- 
selves, 
While each soul here, that fills his noble vessel, 
Swells with the murder, works with ruin o'er ; 
And from the dreadful deed this glory draws, 
We killed the greatest man, that ever was; 

SCENE n. 

Enter Alexander and all his Attendants. 

Alex. Search there, nay, probe me, search my 
wounded reins ! 
Pull, draw it out! 

Lys. We have searched, but find no hurt. 
Alex. O I am shot, a forked burning arrow 
Sticks cross my shoulders : the sad venom flies, 
Like lightning, through my flesh, my blood* my 
marrow. 
Lys. This must be treason* 
Perd. Would I could but guess I 
Ales. Ha ! what a change of torments I en- 
dure ! 
A bolt of ice runs hissing through my bowels i 



Tis sure the arm of death : give me a chair; 
Cover me, for I freeze, and my teeth chatter, 
And my knees knock together. 

Peri. Heaven bless the king ! 

Alex. Ha! who talks of heaven? 
I am all hell ; I burn, I burn again ! 
The war grows wondrous hot; hey for the Tiger I 
Bear me, Bucephalus, amongst the billows: 1 
O 'tis a noble beast; I would not change him 
For the best horse die Sun has in his stable : 
For they are hot, their mangers full of coals, 
Their manes are flakes of lightning, curls of lire, 
And their red tails, like meteors, whisk about 

Lys. Help all, Eumenes, help ! I cannot hold 
him! 

Alex. Ha, ha, ha ! I shall die with laughter. 
Parmenio, Clytus, dost thou see yon fellow, 
That ragged soldier, that poor tattered Greek? 
See howhe puts to flight the gaudy Persians, 
With nothing but a rusty helmet on, through 

which 
The grizly bristles of his pushing beard 
Drive them like pikes— Ha, ha, ha ! 

Perd. How wild he talks ! 

Lys. Yet warring in his wildness. 

Alex. Sound, sound, keep your ranks close; ay, 
now they come : 

the brave din, the noble clank of arms ! 
Charge, charge apace, and let the phalanx move: 
Darius comes— —ha ! let me in, none dare 
To cross my fury. Philotas is unhorsed ;— Ay, 

'tis Darius ; 

1 see, I know him by the sparkling plumes, 
And his gold chariot, drawn by ten white horses: 
But, like a tempest, thus I pour upon mm 

He bleeds ! with that last blow I brought him 

down; 
He tumbles ! take him, snatch the imperial crown. 
They fly, they fly !« follow, follow !- — Victo- 
ria ! Victoria ! 
Victoria !  O let me sleep. 
Perd* Let's raise him softly, and bear him to 

his bed: 
Alex. Hold, the least motion gives me suddea 
death; 
My vital spirits are quite parched up, 
And all my smoky entrails turned to ashes. 
Lys. When you, the brightest star that ever 
shone, 
Shall set) it must be night with us for ever. 

Alex. Let me embrace you all before I die t 
Weep not, my dear companions; the good gods 
Shall send you, in my stead, a nobler prince, 
One that shall lead you forth with matchless con* 
duct. 
Lys. Break not our hearts with such unkind 

expressions. 
Perd. We will not part with you, nor change 

for Mars. 
Alex, Perdiccas, take this ring, 
And see me laid in the temple of Jupiter An- 
mom 



Lee.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



187 



h/L To whom does your dread majesty be- 
neath 
The empire of the work) ? 
Alt*. To him that is most wormy. 
Ptrd. When will you, sacred sir, that we should 
give 
To your great memory those divine honours, 
Which such exalted virtue does deserve ? 
Aler. When you are all most happy, and in 



Your hinds O father, if I have discharged 

[Rites. 
The duty of a man to empire bora ; 



If, by unwearied toil, I have deserved 
The vast renown of thy adopted son, 
Accept this soul, which thou didst first inspire, 
And which this sigh thus gives thee back again. 

[Di*. 
Lyt. Eumenes, cover the fallen majesty ; 
If there be treason, let us find it out ; 
Lysimachus stands forth to lead you on, 
And swears, by these most honoured dear remains, 
He will not taste those joys which beauty brings, 
Till we revenge the greatest, best of kings. 

I [Exeunt omnes. 



 

L 



ALL FOB LOVE ; 



OR, 



THE WORLD WELL LOST. 



*V 



DRYDEN. 



DRAMATIS PERSONJE. 



MEN. 

Marc AnIony. 

Ventidius, hit general. 

Dola bella, his friend. 

A lex as, the queen's eunuch. 

Serapion, priest of his. 

Romans. 

Myris. 



WOMEN. 

Cleopatra, queen of Egypt. 
Oct avi a, Antony's wife. 

I™™™' \ CkopttrSs maid*. 
Antonys two infant daughters. 



Scene, — Alexandria. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— The Temple of his. 



Serapion, and Myris, Priests oflsis, discovered. 

Ser. Portents and prodigies are grown so 
frequent. 
That they have lost their name. Our fruitful 

Nile 
Flowed, ere the wonted season, with a torrent 
So unexpected, and so wondrous fierce, 
That the wild deluge overtook the haste 
Even of the hinds, that watched it Men and 

beasts 
Were borne above the tops of trees, that grew 
On the utmost margin of the water-mark : 
Then with so swift an ebb the flood drove back- 
ward, 
It slipt from underneath the scaly herd : 
Here monstrous phocs panted on the shore ; 
Forsaken dolphins there, with their broad tails, 
Lay lashing the departing waves ; hard by them 



Sea-horses, floundering in the slimy mud, 
Tossed up their heads, and dashed the ooze about 
them. 

Enter A lex as behind them. 

Myr. Avert these omens, Heaven ! 

Ser. Last night, between the hours of twelve 
and one, 
In a lone aisle of the temple while I walked, 
A whirlwind rose, that, with a violent blast, 
Shook all the dome ; the doors around me clapt; 
The iron wicket, that defends the vault; 
Where the long race of Ptolemies is laid, 
Burst open, and disclosed the mighty dead : 
From out each monument, in order placed, 
An armed ghost starts up ; the boy-king last 
Reared his inglorious head : a peal of groans 
Then followed, and a lamentable voice 
Cried, ' Egypt is no more.' My blood ran bacl^ 
My snaking knees against each other knocked, 



2>RY9BN.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



189 



On the cold pavement down I fell entranced, 
And oo unfinished left the horrid scene ! 

Alex, And dreamt yon this, or did invent the 
story, [Shewing himself. 

To frighten our Egyptian boys withal, 
And train them up betimes in fear of priesthood ? 

Ser. My lord, I saw you not, 
Nor meant my words should reach your ears; 

but what 
I uttered was most true. 

Alex. A foolish dream^ 
Bred -from the fumes of indigested feasts 
And holy luxury. 

Ser. ikaow my duly : 
This -goes no farther. 

Alex. Tis not fit it should, 
Nor would the times now bear it, were it true. 
All southern from yon hills the Roman camp 

o'er as black and threatening, like a storm 
JuttTpaaking on our heads. 

Ser. Our mint Egyptians pray for Antony, 
But in their servile hearts thoy own Octavius. 

Myr. Why, then, does Antony dream out his 
hows, 
And tempts opt fortune for a noble day, 
Which nudbt redeem what Aotium lost? 

Alex, He thinks 'tis past recovery. 

Ser. yet the foe 
Seems not to press tbe siege. 

Alex. Oh, there's the wonder. 
Mecaenas and Agrippa, who can most 
With Cesar, are has foes, His wife, Octavia, 
Driven from bis house, solicits her revenge ; 
And DolabeUa, who was once his friend, 
Upon some private grudge now seeks his ruin; 
Yet still war seems on either side to sleep. 

Ser. fRs strange, tbs* Antony, for some days 
past, 
Has not beheld the face of Cleopatra, 
But here in Isis* temple lives retired, 
And makes his heart a prey to black despair. 

Alex. Tig true; and we much fear he hopes, 
by absence, 
To cure his mind of love. 

Ser. If he be vanquished, 
Or make his peace, Egypt is doomed to be 
A Roman province, and our plenteous harvests 
Most then redeem the scarceness of their soil. 
While Antony stood firm, our Alexandria 
Rivalled proud Rome (dominion's other seat), 
And fortune striding, like a vast Colossus, 
Could fa. an equal foot of empire here. 

Alex. Had I my wish, these tyrants of all na- 
ture, 
Who lord it o'er mankind, should perish, perish, 
Each W the other's sword ; but since our wiH 
Is lamely followed by our power, we must 
Depend on one, with him to rise or fall. 

Ser. How stands the queen affected r 

Alex. Oh, she doats, 
She doats, Serapion, on this vanquished man, 
And winds herself about his mighty ruins, 



Whom, would she yet forsake, yet yield him up, 
This hunted prey, to his pursuer's hands, 
She might preserve us all : but 'tis in vain— 
This changes my designs, this blasts my counsels, 
And makes me use all means to keep him here, 
Whom I could wish divided from her arms 
Far as the earth's deep centre. Well, you know 
The state of things : no more of your ill omens 
And black prognostics; labour to confirm 
The people s hearts. 

Enter Ventidius, talking aside with a gentle- 
man of Antony's. 

Ser. These Romans will o'erhear us. 
But who's that stranger? by his warlike port, 
His fierce demeanor, and erected Look, 
He is of no vulgar note. 

Alex. Oh, 'tis Ventidius, 
Our emperor's great lieutenant in the east, 
Who first shewed Rome, that Parthia could be 

conquered. 
When Antony returned from Syria last 
He left this man to guard the Roman frontiers. 

Ser. You seem to Know him well. 

Alex. Too well. I saw him in Cilicia first, 
When Cleopatra there met Antony : 
A mortal foe he was to us and Egypt 
But let me witness to the worth ihate j 
A braver Roman never drew a sword : 
Firm to his prince, but as a friend, not skive : 
He ne'er was of his pleasures, but presides 
O'er aU his cooler hours, and morning counsels i 
In short, the plainness, fierceness, rugged virtue 
Of an old true stampt Roman lives in him. 
His coming bodes, I know not what, of ill 
To our affairs. Withdraw, to mark him better, 
And 111 acquaint you why I sought you here, 
And what is our present work. 

[They withdraw to a corner of the ttage, and 
Ventidius, with the other, comes forward 
to the front. 

Yent. Not see him, say you ? 
I say I must, and will. 

pent. He has commanded, 
On pain of death, none should approach his pre- 
sence. 

Vent. I bring him news, will raise his drooping 
spirits, 
Give him new life. 

Qent. He sees not Cleopatra. 

Vent. Would he had never seen her ! 

Gent, He eats not, drinks not, sleeps not, has 
no use 
Of any thing but thought ; or if he talks, 
lis to himself, and then 'tis perfect raving; 
Then he defies the world, and bids it pass. 
Sometimes he gnaws his lips, and curses loud 
The boy Octavius ; then he draws his mouth 
Into a scorpAil smile, and cries, ' Take all ! 
The world is not worth my care.' 

Vent. Just, just his nature. 
Virtue is his path, but sometimes 'tis too narrow 



190 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Dry d Eif, 



For bis vast soul, and then he starts out wide, 
And bounds into a vice, that bears him far 
From his first coarse, and plunges him in ills : 
But when his danger makes him find his faulftr 
Quick to observe, and full of sharp remorse, 
He censures eagerly his own misdeeds, 
Judging himself with malice to himself, 
And not forgiving what as man he did, 
Because his other parts are more than man. 
He must not thus be lost. 

[Alexas and the priests come forward. 
Alex. You have jour full, instructions; now ad- 
vance; 
Proclaim your orders loudly. 
Ser. Romans! Egyptians! hear the queen's 
command. 
Thus Cleopatra 'bids : Let labour cease ; 
To pomp and triumphs give this happy day, 
That gave the world a lord ; 'tis Antony's. 
Live Antony, and Cleopatra live ! 
Be this the general voice sent up to heaven, 
And every public place repeat this echo. 

Vent. Fine pageantry ! [Aside. 

Ser. Set out before your doors 
The images of all your sleeping fathers, 
With laurels crowned ; with laurels wreath your 

posts, 
And strew with flowers the pavement ; let the 

priest 
Do present sacrifice, pour out the wine, 
And call the gods to join with you in gladness. 
Vent. Curse on the tongue that bids this ge- 
neral joy ! 
Can they be friends to Antony, who revel 
When Antony's in danger? Hide, for shame, 
You Romans) your great grandsires' images, 
For fear their souls should animate their marbles, 
To blush at their degenerate progeny, 
Alex. A love, which knows no bounds to An- 
tony, 
Would mark the day with honours; when all 

Heaven 
Laboured for him, when each propitious star 
Stood wakeful in his orb to watch that hour, 
And shed his better influence : her own birth-day 
Our queen neglected, like a vulgar fate, 
That passed obscurely by. 

Vent. Would it had slept 
Divided far from his, till some remote 
And future age had called it out to ruin 
Some other prince, not him ! 

Alex. Your emperor, 
Tho' grown unkind, would be more gentle than 
To upbraid my queen for loving him too well. 
Vent. Does the mute sacrifice upbraid the 
priest ? 
He knows him not his executioner. 
Oh ! she has decked his ruin with her love, 
lied him in golden bands to gaudy slaughter, 
And made perdition pleasing : she has left him 
The blank of what he was. 
I tell thee, eunuch, she has quite unmanned him : 



Can, any Roman see and know him now, 
Thus altered from the lord of half mankind, 
Unbent, unsinewed, made a woman's toy, 
Shrunk from the vast extent of all bis honours, 
And crampt within a corner of the world? 
Oh, Antony! 

Thou bravest soldier, and thou best of friends.! 
Bounteous as najture, next to nature's God! 
Couldst thou but make new worlds, so wonldst 

thou give them, 
As bounty were thy being. Rough in battle 
As the fir^t Romans, when they went to war, 
Yet, after victory, more pitiful 
Than all their praying virgins left at home ! 
Alex. Would you could add to those mora 

shining virtues, 
His truth to her, who loves him. 

Vent. Would I could not ! 
But wherefore waste I precious hours with thee? 
Thou art her darling mischief, her chief engine, 
Antony's other fate. Go tell thyuqueen, 
Ventddius is arrived to end her charms. 
Let your Egyptian timbrels play alone, 
Nor mix effeminate sounds with Roman trumpets. 
You dare not fight for Antony; go pay, 
And keep, your cowards' holiday in temples. 

[Exeunt Alex. Scrap. 

Re-enter the Gentleman o/Marc Antony. 

2 Gent. The emperor approaches, and com-i 
mands, 
On pain of death, that none presume to stay. 
1 Gent. I dare not disobey him. 

[Going out with the other. 
Vent. Well, I dare : 
But 111 observe him first, unseen, and find 
Which way his humour drives : the rest Til vein 
ture. [Withdraws. 



Enter Antony, walking with a disturbed 
Hon before he speaks. 

An\. They tell me, 'tis my birth-day; and FU 
keep it 
With double porno of sadness : 
Tis what the day deserves, which gave me breath. 
Why was I raised the meteor of the world, 
Hung in the skies, and blazing as I travelled, 
Till all my fires were spent, and then cast down* 

ward, 
To be trod out by Caesar ? 

Vent. [Aside] On my soul 
Tis mournful, wondrous mournful ! 

Ant. Count thy gains 
Now, Antony; wouldst thou be born for this? 
Glutton of fortune, thy devouring youth 
Has starved thy wanting age. 

Vent. [Aside] How sorrow shakes him ! 
So, now the tempest tear* him up by the roots, 
And on the ground extends the noble rum. 

Ant. [Having thrown himself down] lie there, 
thou shadow of an emperor ; 
The place, thou pressest on wy mother earth* 



Dry den.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



191 



Is all thy empire now* now it contains thee; 
Some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large, 
When thou art contracted in thy narrow urn, 
Shrunk to a few cold ashes ; then Octavia> 
(For Cleopatra will not live to see it) 
Octavia then will have thee all her own, 
And bear thee in her widowed hand to Caesar; 
Cesar will weep, the crocodile will weep, 
To see his rival of the universe 
lie still and peaceful there. Ill think no more 

of it 
Give me some music ; look, that it be sad. 
I'll soothe my melancholy, till I swell 
And burst myself with sighing — [Soft music. 
To somewhat to my humour. Stay, I fancy 
I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature ; 
Of all forsaken, and forsaking all, 
live in a shady forest's sylvan scene, 
Stretched at my length beneath some blasted 

J lean my head upon the mossy bark, 
And look just of a piece as I grew from it: 
My uncombed locks, matted like misletoe, 
Hang o'er my hoary face ; a murmuring brook 
Rons at my foot 

Vent. Methinks I fancy 
Myself there too. 

Ant. The herd come jumping by me, 
And fearless quench their thirst, while I look on, 
And take me for their fellow-citizen. 
More of this image, more ; it lulls my thoughts. 



[Soft music again. 



Vent. I must disturb him : I can hold no lon- 
ger. [Stands before him. 

Ant. [Starting up] Art thou Ventidius ? 

Vent. Are you Antony ? 
I'm liter what I was than you to him 
I left yon last 

Ant. I'm angry. 

Vent. So am J. 

Ant. I would be private. Leave me. 

Vent. Sir, I love you, - 
And therefore will not leave you. 

Ant. Will not leave me ! 
Where have you learnt that answer ? Who am I ? 

Vent. My emperor ; the man I love next 
heaven: 
If I said more, I think 'twere scarce a sin : 
You're all that's good and godlike. 

AnU All that's wretched. 
Yon will not leave me then ? 

Vent. Twas too presuming 
To say J would not ; but I dare not leave you ; 
And 'tis unkind in you to chide me hence 
So soon, when I so far have come to see you. 

Ant. Now thou hast seen me, art thou satis- 
fied? 
For, if a friend, thou hast beheld enough, 
And, if a foe, too much. 

Vent. Look, emperor, this is no common dew : 

[Weeping. 
I have not wept this forty years ; but now 



My mother comes afresh iato my eyes : 
I cannot help her softness. 

AnU By heaven he weeps ! Poor good old man, 
he -weeps I 
The big round drops course one another down 
The furrows of his cheeks. Stop them, Ventidius, 
Or I shall blush to death ; they set my shame, 
That caused diem, full before me. 

Vent. Ill do my best 

Ant. Sure there's contagion in the tears of 
friends; 
See, I have caught it too. Believe me 'tis not 
For my own griefs but thine — Nay, fathe r 

Vent. Emperor. 

Ant. femperor! why that's the style of vic- 
tory: 
The conquering soldier, red with unfelt wounds, 
Salutes his general so ; but never more 
Shall that sound reach my ears. 

Vent. I warrant you; 

Ant. Actium, Actium I Oh — 

Vent. It sits too near you. 

Ant. Here, here it lies, a lump of lead by day, 
And, in my short distracted nightly slumbers. 
The hag, that rides my dreams 

Vent. Out with it; give it vent 

Ant. Urge not my shame — 
I lost a battle. 

Vent. So has Julius done. 

Ant. Thou favourest me, and speakest not half 
thou thinkest; 
For Julius fought it out, and lost it fairly 5 
But Antony 

Vent. Nay, stop not 

Ant. Antony 
(Well, thou wilt have it) like a coward fled, 
Fled, while his soldiers fought ; fled first, Venti- 
dius. 
Thou longest to curse me, and I give thee leave; 
I know thou earnest prepared to rail. 

Vent. I did. 

Ant. I'll help thee-^-I have been a man, Ven- 
tidius. 

Vent. Yes, and a brave one ; but — 

Ant I know thy meaning. 
But I have lost my reason, have disgraced 
The name of soldier with inglorious ease ; 
In the full vintage of my flowing honours 
Sat still, and saw it prest by other hands ; 
Fortune came smiling to my youth, and wooed i^ 
And purple greatness met my ripened years. 
When first I came to empire, I was borne 
On tides of people, crowding to my triumphs, 
The wish of nations, and the willing world 
Received me as its pledge of future peace. 
I was so great, so happy, so beloved, 
Fate could not ruin me, till I took pains, 
And worked against my fortune, cnid her from 

me, 
And turned her loose ; yet still she came again. 
My careless days, and my luxurious nights, 
At length have wearied her, and now she's gone. 



iw 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Dbtwbi*. 



Gone, gone, divorced for ever. Help me, sol" 

dier, 
To curse this madman, this industrious rod, 
Who laboured to be wretched. Pr'ythee curse 
me. 

Vent. No. 

Ant. Why ? 

Vent. You are too sensible already 
Of what you have done, too conscious of your 

failings, 
And, like a scorpion, whipt by others first 
To fury, sting yourself in mad revenge. 
I would bring balm, and pour it in your wounds, 
Cure your distempered mind, and heal your for- 
tunes. 

Ant. I know thou wouldst. 

Vent. I witt, 

Ant. Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Vent. You laugh. 

Ant. I do, to see ofhaou* love 
Give cordials to the dead. 

Vent. You would be lost then ? 

Ant. I am. 

Vent. I say you are not. Try- your fortune. 

Ant. I have to the utmost. Dost thou think 
me desperate 
Without just cause ? No, when I found all lost 
Beyond repair, I hid me from the world, 
And learned to scorn it here, which now I do 
So heartily, I think it ie not worth 
The cost of keeping. 

Vent. Caesar thinks not so ; 
Hell thank you for the gift, he could not take. 
You would be killed like Tully, would you? Do; 
Hold out your throat to Caesar, and die tamely. 

Ant. No, I can kilt myself, and so resolve. 

Vent. I can die with you too, when tame shall 
serve; 
But fortune calls upon us now to live, 
To fight, to conquer. 

Ant. Sure thou dreamest, Ventidius* 

Vent. No, 'tis yon dream; you sleep away 
your hours 
In desperate sloth, miscalled philosophy. 
Up, up, for honour's sake ! twelve legions wait 

y°*> ... 

And long to call you chief: by painful jourmes 
I led them, patient both of heat and hunger, 
Down from the Parthian marches of the Nile : 
Twill do you good to see their sunburnt races, 
Their scarred cheeks, and chopt hands : there's 

virtue in them : 
They'll sell those mangled limbs at dearer rates 
Than yon trim bands can buy. 

Ant. Where left you them ? 

Vent. I said in Lower Syria. 

Ant. Bring them hither; 
There may be life in these. 

Vent. They will not come. 

Ant. Why didst thou mock my hopes with 
promised aids 
To double my despair ? they are mutinous, . 



Vent. Most firm and loyal/ 

Ant. Yet they will not inarch 
To succour me ? Oh trmer ! 

Vent. They petition 
You would make haste to head them* 

Ant. I'm besieged. 

Vent. There's but one way shut up*-»How<casae 
I hither? 

Ant. I will not stir. * 

Vent, They would perhaps desire 
A better reason. 

Ant. I have never used 
My soldiers to demand a reason of 
My actions. Why did they refuse to march ? 

Vent. They said they would not fight for CleoV 
patra. 

Ant. What was it they said? 

Vent. They said they would not fight for Cleo* 
patra: 
Why should they fight indeed to make her con- 
quer. 
And malce you more a slave? to gain you long? 

doros, 
Which for a kiss, at your next midnight feast, 
You'll sell to her? — Then she new-names her 

J'eweLs, 
Is this diamond such or such a tax; 
Each pendant in her ear shall be a province. 
Ant. Ventidius, I allow your tongue free li- 
cence 
On all my other faults, but* on your life, 
No word of Cleopatra ! she deserves 
More worlds than I can lose. 
Vent. Behold, you powers ! 
To whom you have entrusted humankind ; 
See Europe, Afric, Asia, put in balance, 
And all weighed down by one light worthless 

woman ! 
I think the gods are Antonies, and give, 
Like prodigals, this nether world away 
To none but wasteful hands. 
Ant. You grow presumptuous* 
Vent. I take the privilege of plain love us 

speak. 
Ant. Plain love ! plain arrogance, plain inso- 
lence ! 
Thy men are cowards, thou an envious traitor, 
Who, under seeming honesty, hath vented 
The burden of thy rank o'erflowing gall. 
Oh that thou wert my equal, great in arms 
As the first Caesar was, that I might kill thee, 
Without stain to my honour ! 

Vent* You may kill me t 
You have done more already, called me traitor. 
Ant. Art thou not one ? " 
Vent. -For shewing you yourself, 
Which none else durst have done? But had I been 
That name, which I disdain to speak again, 
I needed not have sought your abject fortunes, 
Come to partake your fate, to die with you. 
What hindered me to have led my conquering 
eagles 

3 



Dbydbn.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



193 



To fill Octavia's bends ? I could have been 
A traitor then, a glorious happy traitor. 
And not have been so called. 

Ant. Forgive me, soldier ; 
I have been toe passionate. 

Vent. You thought me false, 
Thought my old age betrayed you. Kill me, sir, 
Pray lull me : yet you nee4 not ; your nnkindness 
Has left your sword no work. 

Ant. I did not think so ; 
I said it in my rage : prithee forgive me. 
Why didst tljpu tempt my anger Dy discovery 
Of what I would not hear? 

Vent. No prince, but yon, 
Could merit that sincerity, I used ; 
Nor durst another man have ventured it : 
Bat you, ere love misled your wandering eyes, 
Were sure the chief and best of human race, 
Framed in the very pride and boast of nature ; 
So perfect, that the gods, who formed you, won- 
dered 
At their own skill, and cried, 4 A lucky hit 
Has mended our design !' Their envy hindered, 
£be yon had been immortal, and a pattern, 
When heaven would work for ostentation sake, 
To copy out again. 

Ant. But Cleopatra-—  — 
Go on, for I can bear it now. 

Vent. No more. 

Ant. Thou dar'st not trust my passion, but 
thou mayest : 
Thou only lovest, the rest have flattered me. 

Vent. Heaven's blessing on your heart for that 
kind word ! 
May I believe you love me ? Speak again. 

Ami. Indeed I do. Speak this, and this, and 
this. [Embracing him. 

Thy praises were unjust: but I'll deserve them, 
And yet mend all. Do with roe what thou wilt : 
Lead me to victory; thou knowest die way. 

Vent. Awf will you leave this— 
, Ant. Prithee do not curse her, 



And I will leave her, though heaven knows I love 
Beyond life, conquest, empire, all but honour : 
But 1 will leave her. 

Vent. That is my royal master. 
And shall we fight? 

Ant. I warrant thee, old soldier ; 
Thou shah behold me once again in iron, 
And at the head of our old troops, that beat 
The Parthjans, cry aloud, 'Come, follow me.' 
Vent. Oh, now I hear my emperor ! In that 
word 
Octavius fell. Gods ! let me see that day, 
And if I have ten years behind, take all ; 
I'll thank you for the exchange. 
Ant. Oh, Cleopatra! 
Vent. Again! 

Ant. I have done ; in that last sigh she went 
Caesar shall know what it is to force a lover 
From all he holds most dear. 

Vent. Methinks you breathe 
Another soul ; your looks are most divine ; 
You speak a hero, and you move a god. 
4nt. Oh, thou hast fired me ! my soul's up in 
arms, 
And mans each part about me. Once again 
That noble eagerness of fight has seized me, 
That eagerness, with which I darted upward 
To Cassnu/ camp I in vain the steepy hill 
Opposed my way, in vain a war of spears 
Sung round my head, and planted aJJ my shield; 
I won the trenches, while my foremost men 
J Lagged on the plain below. 
] Vent. Ye gods, ye god& 
For such another honour ! 

Ant. Come on, my soldier ; 
Our hearts and arms are still the same : I long 
Once more to meet our foes, that thou and I, 
like Time and Death, marching before our troops, 
May taste fate to them, mow them out a passage, 
And, entering where the foremost squadrons 

yield, 
Begin the noble harvest of the field. [Exeunt. 



ACT IL 



SCENE I.— A grand Saloon. 



Enter Cleopatra, Iras, and Alex as. 

Cleo. What shall I do, or whither shall I Jturn! 
Venudius has overcome, and he will go. 

Alex. He goes to fight for you. 

Cleo. Then he would see me ere he went to 
fight 
Flatter me not; if once he goes, he is lost, 
And all my hopes destroyed. 

Alex. Does this weak passion 
Become a mighty queen r 

Cleo. I am no queen : 
Js this to be a queen, to be besieged 
By yon insulting Roman, and to wait 

Vol. I. 



Each hour the victor's chain? These ills are 
small, 

For Antony is lost, and I can mourn 

For nothing else but him. Now come, Octavius ; 

I have no more to lose ; prepare thy bands ; 

I am fit to be a captive : Antony 

Has taught my mind the fortune of a slave. 
Jras. Call reason to assist you. 
Cleo. I have none, 

And none would have : my love's a noble mad- 
ness, 

Which shows, the cause deserved it Moderate 
sorrow 

Fits vulgar love, and for a vulgar man ; 

But I have loved with such transcendent passion, 

T 



194 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Dbyden. 



I soared at first quite out of reason's view, 
And now am lost above it— No, I am proud 
lis thus : would Antony could see me now ! 
Think you, he would not sigh ? Though he must 

leave me, 
Sure he would sigh; for he is noble-natured, 
And bears a tender heart : I know him well : 
Ah no ! I know him not : I knew him once, 
But now 'tis past. 

Iras. Let it be post with you ; 
Forget him, madam. 

Cteo. Never, never, Iras : 
He once was mine, and once, though now it is 

gone, 
leaves a faint image of possession still. 

Alex. Think him inconstant, cruel, and un- 
grateful. 

Cleo. I cannot ; if I could, those thoughts were 
vain: 
Faithless, ungrateful, cruel, though he be, 
J still must love him. 

Enter Charm ion. 

Now, what news, my Charmion } 

Will he be kind ? and will he not forsake me ? 

Am I to live or die ? Nay, do I live, 

Or am I dead ? for when he gave his answer, 

Fate took the word, and then I lived or died. 

Char. I found him, madam 

Cleo. A long speech preparing ! 
If thou bringest comfort, haste and give it me, 
For never was more need. 

Xros. I know he loves you. 

Qleo. Had he been kind, her eyes had told 
me so, 
Before, her tongue could speak it : now she studies 
To soften what he said : but give me death 
Just as he sent it, Charmion, undisguised, 
And in the words he spoke. 

Char. I found him then, 
Encompassed round, I think, with iron statues, 
So mute, so motionless, his soldiers stood, 
While awfully he cast his eyes about, 
And every leader's hopes and fears surveyed. 
Methought he looked resolved, and yet not 

pleased : 
When pe beheld me struggling in the crowd, 
He blushed, and bade make way. 

Alex. There's comfort yet. 

Char. Ventidius fixed his eyes upon my pas- 
sage 
Severely, as he meant to frown me back, 
And sullenly gave place. I told my message, 
Just as you gave it, broken and disordered ; 
I numbered in it all your sighs and tears, 
And while I moved your pitiful request, 
That.you but only begged a last farewell, 
He fetched an inward groan, and every time 
I named you, sighed, as if his heart were breaking, 
But shunned my eyes, and guiltily looked down. 
He seemed not now that awful Antony, 
Who shook an armed assembly with his nod, 



But making show as he would rub his eyes, 

Disguised and blotted out a falling tear. 

Cleo. Did he then weep, and was I worth a 
tear? 
If what thou hast to sav be not as pleasing. 
Tell me no more, but ret me die contented. 

Char. He bid me say, he knew himself so welly 
He could deny you nothing, if he saw you, 
And therefore 

Cleo. Thou wouldst say he would not see me ! 

Char. And therefore begged you not to use a 

Sower, 
e could ill resist; yet he should ever 
Respect you as he ought 

Cleo. Is that a word 
For Antony to use to Cleopatra? 
Oh, that faint word respect ! how I disdain it ! 
Disdain myself for loving after it ! 
He should have kept that word for cold Octavia; 
Respect is for a wife. Am I that thing, 
That dull insipid lump, without desires, 
And without power to give them ? 

Alex. You misjudge ; 
You see through love, and that deludes your flight, 
As what is straight seems crooked through the* 

water; 
But I, who bear my reason undisturbed, 
Can see this Antony, this dreaded man, 
A fearful slave, who fain would run away, 
And shuns his master's eyes ; if you pursue him. 
My life on it, he still drags a chain along, 
That needs must clog his flight. 

Cleo. Could I believe thee 

Alex. By every circumstance I know he fovea. 
True, he is hard prest by interest and honour j 
Yet he but doubts and parleys, and casts out 
Many a long look for succour. 

Cleo. He sends word 
He fears to see my face. 

Alex. And would you more ? 
He shows his weakness, who declines the comftat ; 
And you must urge your fortune. Could he speak 
More plainly ? to ray ears the message sounds, 
'Come to my rescue, Cleopatra, come ! 
Come, free me from Ventidius, from my tyrant 7 
See me, and give me a pretence to leave him.' 

[A march. 
I hear his trumpets. This way he must pass. 
Please you retire a whjle ; I'll work him firsts 
That he may bend more easy. 

Cleo. You shall rule me, 
But all, I fear, in vain. [Exit with Char, and Irat. 

Alex. I fear so too, 
Though I concealed my thoughts to make her 

bold; 
But it is our utmost means, and fate befriend it. 
[Withdraws. A march till all art on. 

Enter Lictort with fasces, one bearing the Eagle; 
then enter Aptony ana* Ventidius, followed 
by other Commanders. 

Ant. Octavins is the minion of blind chance, 



Dhydbn.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



195 



But holds from virtue nothing. 

Vent. Has he courage? 

AnL But iust enough to season him from 
coward. 
Oh ! 'tis the coldest youth upon a charge, 
TT*e most deliberate fighter ! if he ventures 
(As in Ulyria once they said he did) 
To storm a town, 'tis when he cannot chuse, 
When all the world have fixed their eyes upon 

him; 
And then he lives on that for seven years after : 
Bat at a close revenge he never rails. 

Vent. I heard you challenged him. 

Ant. I did, Ventidius : 
What thinkest thou was his answer? 'twas so tame 
—He said, he had more ways than one to die, 
I had not. 

Vent. Poor! 

Ant. He has more ways than one, 
But he would chuse them all before that one. 

Vent. He first would chuse an ague or a fever. 

Ant. No, it must be an ague, not a fever; 
He has not warmth enough to die by that. 

Vent. Or old age and a bed. 

Ant. Ay, there^s his choice ; 
He would live like a lamp tc the last wink, 
And crawl upon the utmost verge of life. 
Oh, Hercules ! why should a man like this, 
Who dares not trust his fate for one great action, 
Be all the care of heaven ? why should he lord it 
O'er fourscore thousand men, of whom each one 
Is braver than himself? 

Vent. You conquered for him ; 
Fhilippi knows it : there you shared with him 
Hiat empire, which your sword made all your 
own. 
Ant. Fool that I was ! upon my eagle's wings 
I bore this wren till I was tared with soaring, 
And now he mounts above me. 
Good heavens! is this, is this the man, who 

braves me, 
Who bids my age make way, drives me before 

him 
To the world's ridge, and sweeps me off like rub- 
bish? 
VenLSar, we lose time; the troops are mount- 
ed all. 
Ant. Then give the word to march : 
I long to leave this prison of a town, 
To jom thy legions, and in open field 
Once more to show my face. Lead, my deliverer ! 

Enter Alex as. 

Alex. Great emperor, 
In mighty arms renowned above mankind, 
But, m soft pity to the oppressed, a god, 
This message sends the mournful Cleopatra 
To her departing lord. 

Vent. Smooth sycophant ! 

Alex. A thousand wishes, and ten thousand 
prayers, 
Millions of blessings! wait you to the wars; 



Millions of sighs and tears she sends you too, 

And would have sent 

As many embraces to your arms. 

As many dear parting kisses to your lips* 

But those, she tears, have wearied you already. 

Vent. [Aside.] False crocodile ! 

Alex. And yet she begs not now, you would not 
leave her ; 
That were a wish too mighty for her hopes, 
And too presuming (for her low fortune and your 
ebbing love) ; 

I That were a wish for her most prosperous days, 
Her blooming beauty, and your growing kindness. 
Ant. [Aside.] Well, I must man it out— What 

would the queen ? 
Alex. First to these noble warriors, who attend 
Your daring courage in the chase of fame, 
(Too daring and too dangerous for her quiet) 
She humbly recommends all she holds dear, 
All her own cares and fears, the care of you. 
Vent. Yes, witness Actium. 
Ant. Let him speak, Ventidius. 
Alex. You, when his matchless valour bears 
him forward 
With ardour, too heroic, on his foes ; 
Fall down, as she would do, before his feet, 
lie in his way, and stop the paths of death ; 
Tell him this god is not invulnerable, 
That absent Cleopatra bleeds in him ; 
And, that you may remember her petition, 
She begs you wear these trifles as a pawn, 
Which, at your wished return, she will redeem 

S Gives jewels to the Commander^ 
thofEpypt 
This to the great Ventidius she presents, 
Whom she can never count her enemy, 
Because he loves her lord. 

Vent. Tell her 111 none of it ; 
I am not ashamed of honest poverty : 
Not all the diamonds of the east can bribe 
Ventidius from his faith. I hope to see 
These, and the rest of all her sparkling store, 
Where they shall more deservingly be placed. 

Ant. And who must wear them then ? 

Vent. The wronged Octavta. 

Ant. You might have spared that word. 

Vent. And she that bribe. 

Ant. But have I no remembrance? 

Alex. Yes, a dear one ; 
Your slave, the quee n 

Ant. My mistress. 

Alex. Then your mistress. 
Your mistress, would, she says, have sent her soul, 
But that you had long since ; she humbly begs 
This ruby bracelet, set with bleeding hearts, 
(The emblems of her own) may bind your arm, 

[Presenting a bracelet. 

Vent. Now, my best lord, in honour's name I 
«sk you, 
For manhood's sake, and for your own dear safety, 
Touch not these poisoned gifts, 
Infected by the sender ! touch them not! 



196 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Deyden. 



Myriads of bluest plagues lie underneath them, 
And more than aconite has dipt the silk.* 

Ant. Nay, now you grow too cynical, Vent*- 
dius; 
A lady's favours may be worn with honour. 
What, to refuse her bracelet ! on my soul, 
When I lie pensive in my tent alone. 
Twill pass tne wakeful hours of winter nights 
To tell these pretty beads upon my arm. 
To count for every one a soft embrace, 
A melting kiss at such and such a time, 
And now and then the fury of her love, 
When — And what harm's in this? 

Alex. None, none, my lord, 
But what's to her, that now 'tis past for ever. 

Ant, [Going to tie it.] We soldiers are so 
aukward — help me tie it 

Alex. In faith, my lord, we courtiers too are 
aukward 
In these affaire; so are all men indeed ; 
But shall I speak? 

Ant* Yes, freely. 

Alex. Then, my lord, fair hands alone 
Are fit to tie it ; she, who sent it, can. 

Vent. Hell ! death ! this eunuch pandar ruins 
you. 
You will not see her ? [Alexas whispers 

an attendant^ who goes out. 

Ant. But to take my leave. 

Vent. Then I have washed an Ethiop. You 
are undone ! 
You're in the toils! you're taken! you're des- ( 

troyed! 
Her eyes do Caesar's work. 

Ant. You fear too soon : 
I am constant to myself: I know my strength ; 
And yet she shall not think me barbarous neither, 
Born in the deeps of Afric : Fm a Roman, - 
Bred to the rules of soft humanity. 
A guest, and kindly used, should bid farewell. 

Vent. You do not know 
How weak you are to her, how much an infant ; 
You are not proof against a smile or glance; 
A sigh will quite disarm you. 

Ant. See, she comes ! 
Now you shall find your error. Gods ! I thank 

you; 
I formed the danger greater than it was, 
And now 'tis near 'tis lessened. 

Vent. Mark the end yet. 

Enter Cleopatra, Charmion, and Iras. 

Ant. Well, madam, we are met 

Cleo. Is this a meeting ! 
Then we must part ! 

. Ant. We must 

Cleo, Who says we must ? 

Ant. Our own hard fates. 

Cleo. We make those fates ourselves. 

Ant. Yes, we have made them; we hare loved 
each other* 
Into our mutual ruin. 



Cleo, The gods have seen my joys with envioqs 
eyes; 
I have, no friends in heaven; and all the world 
(As 'twere the business of mankind to part us) 
Is armed against my love; even you yourself 
Join with the rest : you, you are armed against me. 

Ant. I will be justified in all I do 
To late posterity, and therefore hear me. 
If I mix a lie 

With any truth, reproach me freely with it, 
Else favour me with silence. 

Cleo. You command me, 
And I am dumb. 

Vent. I like this well : he shows authority. 

Ant, That I derive my ruin 
From you alo ne 

Cleo. Oh, heavens ! I ruin you ! 

Ant. You promised me your silence, and yon 
break it, 
Ere I have scarce begun. 

Cleo, Well, I obey you. 

Ant, When I beheld you first, it was in Egypt, 
Ere Caesar saw your eyes : you gave me love, 
And were too young to know it That 1 settled 
Your father in his throne was for your sake ; 
I left the acknowledgment for time to ripen. 
Cesar stepped in, and, with a greedy hand, 
Plucked tne green fruit, ere the first blush of red, 
Yet cleaving to the bough. He was my lord, 
And was beside too great for me to rival : 
But I deserved you first, though he enjoyed you. 
When after I beheld you in Cilicia, 
An enemy to Rome, I pardoned you. 

Cleo. I cleared myself 

Ant, Again you break your promise! 
I loved you stall, and took your weak excuses, 
Took you into my bosom, stained by Caesar, 
And not half mine : I went to £eypt with you, 
And hid me from the business oithe world, 
Shut out inquiring nations from my sight, 
To give whole years to you. 

Vent. Yes, to your shame be it spoken! [Aside. 

Ant. How I loved, 
Witness ye days and nights, and all ye hours, 
That danced away with down upon your feet, 
As all your business were to count my passion. 
One day passed by, and nothing saw but love ' r 
Another came, and still 'twas only love : 
The suns were wearied out with looking on, 
And I untired with loving. 
I saw you every day, and all the day, 
And every day was still but as the first, 
So eager was I still to see you more. 

Vent. Tis all too true. 

Ant. Fulvia, my wife, grew jealous, 
As she indeed had reason, raised a war 
In Italy, to call me back. 

Vent. But yet 
You went not 

Ant. While within your arms I lay, 
The world fell mouldering from my hands each 
hour, 



DrydkH.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



197 



And left me scarce a grasp; I diank your lore 
for'L 

Vent. Well pushed : that last was home. 

Cleo. Yet may I speak ? 

Ant. If I have urged a falsehood, yes; else not. 
Tour silence says I nave not. Fulvia died : 
(Pardon, you gods ! with my unkindness died.) 
To set the world at peace, I took Octavia, 
This Caesar's sister. In her pride of youth 
And flower of beauty did I wed that lady, 
Whom, blushing, I must praise, although I left 

her. 
You called ; ray love obeyed the fatal summons : 
This raised the Roman arms; the cause was yours. 
I would have fought by land, where I was stronger; 
You hindered it; yet, when I fought by sea, 
Forsook me fighting; and—oh stain to honour ! 
Oh lasting shame ! I knew not that I fled, 
But fled to follow you. 

Vent. What haste she made to hoist her purple 
sails! 
And to appear magnificent in flight, 
Drew half our strength away. 

Ant. All this you caused : 
And would you multiply more ruins on me ? 
This honest man, my nest, my only friend, 
Has gathered up the shipwreck of my fortunes : 
Twelve legions I have left, my last recruits, 
And you have watched the news, and bring your 

eyes 
To seize them too. If you have aught to answer, 
Now speak, you have free leave. 

Alex. She stands confounded : 
Despair is in her eyes. [Aside. 

vent. Now lay a sigh in the way to stop his 
passage; 
Prepare a tear, and bid it for his legions : 
To like they shall be sold. 

Cite. How shall I plead my cause, when you, 
my judge, 
.Already have condemned me } Shall I bring 
The love, you bore me, for my advocate ? 
That now is turned against me, that destroys me; 
For love, once past, is, at the best, forgotten, 
But oftener sours to hate. It will please my lord 
To ruin me, and therefore Fll be guilty; 
But could I once have thought it would have 

pleased you, 
That you would pry with narrow searching eyes 
Into my faults, severe to my destruction, 
And watching all advantages with care, 
That serve to make me wretched! Speak, my 

lord, 
For I end here. Though I deserve this usage, 
Was it like you to give it ? 

Ant. Oh, you wrong me, 
To think I sought this parting, or desired 
To accuse yon- more than what will clear myself, 
And justify this breach. 

Cuo. Tnus low I thank you, 
And, since my innocence will not offend, 
I shall not. blush to own it. 



Vent. After this, 
I think she'll blush at nothing. 

Cleo. You seem grieved 
(And therein you are kind) that Caesar first 
Enjoyed my love, though you deserved it better; 
For had I first been yours, it would have saved 
My second choice; I never had been his, 
And ne'er had been but yours. But Cesar first, 
You say, possessed ray love. Not so, my lord : 
He first possessed my person, you my love: 
Caesar loved me, but I loved Antony : 
If I endured him after, 'twas because 
I judged it due to the first name of men; 
And, half constrained, I save, as to a tyrant, 
What he would take by force. 

Vent. Oh, siren ! siren ! 
Yet grant that all the love she boasts were true, 
Has she not ruined you? I still urge that, 
The fatal consequence. 

Cleo. The consequence indeed, 
For I dare challenge him, my greatest foe, 
To say it was designed. It is true I loved you, 
And kept you far from an uneasy wife, 
Such Fulvia was. 

Yes ; but hell say you left Octavia for me : 
And can you blame me to receive that love, 
Which quitted such desert for worthless me ? 
How often have I wished some other Caesar, 
Great as the first, and as the second young, 
Would court my love, to be refused for you ! 

Vent, Words, words ! but Actium, sir, remem- 
ber Actium ! 

CUo. Ev*n there I dare his malice. True, I 
counselled 
To fight at sea; but I betrayed you not : 
I fled, but not to the enemy, 'twas fear: 
Would I had been a man not to have feared! 
For none would then have envied me your friend* 

ship,. 
Who envy me your love. 

Ant. We are both unhappy : 
If nothing else, yet our ill fortune parts us. 
Speak ! would you have me perish by my stay ? 

Cleo. If, as a friend, you ask my judgment, go; 
If, as a lover, stay. If you must perish — 
Tis a hard word — but stay. 

Vent. See now the effects of her so boasted 
love! 
She strives to drag you down to ruin with her; 
But could she 'scape without you, oh, how soon 
Would she let go tier hold, and haste to shore, 
And never look behind ! 

Cleo. Then judge my love by this. 

[Giving Antony a writing. 
Could I have borne 
A life or death, a happiness or woe, 
From yours divided, this had given me means. 

Ant. By Hercules the writing of Octavius ! 
I know it well : 'tis that proscribing hand, 
Young as it was, that led the way to mine, 
And left me but the second place in murdei 
See, see, Ventktius ! here he oners Egypt, 



198 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Dbyden. 



And joins all Syria to it as a present, 
So in requital she forsakes my fortunes, 
And joins her arms with his. 

Cko. And yet you leave me ! 
You leave me, Antony ; and yet I love yon S 
Indeed I do ! I have refused a kingdom. 
That's a trifle; 

For I could part with life, with any thing, 
But only you* Oh let me die but with you ! 
Is that a hard request ? 

Ant Next living with you 
lis all, that heaven can give. 

Alex. He melts ; we conquer. [Aside. 

Cleo. No, you shall go ; your interest call you 
hence: 
Yes, your dear interest pulls to strong for these 
Weak arms to hold you here — [Takes his hand. 
Go, leave me, soldier, 

(For you're no more a lover) leave me dying; 
Push me all pale and panting from your bosom, 
And, when your march begins, let one run after, 
Breathless almost for joy, and cry, ' She's dead !' 
The soldiers shout You then perhaps may sigh, 
And muster all your Roman gravity; 
Ventidius chides, and straight your brow clears 

up, 
As I had never beem 

Ant. Gods ! 'tis too much ! too much for man 
to hear! 

Cleo. What is it for me then, 
A weak forsaken woman, and a lover ? 
Here let me breathe my last ; envy me not 
This minute in your arms ! Ill die apace, 
As fast as e'er I can, and end your trouble. 

Ants Die! — rather let irie perish, loosened 
nature 
Leap from its hinges, sink the props of heaven, 
Ana fall the skies to crush the nether world ! 
My eyes! my soul ! my all ! — — [Embraces her. 

Vent And what's this toy, 
In balanoe with your fortune, honour, fame ? 



Ant. What is it, Ventidius ? it outweighs them 
all. 
Why, we have more than conquered Cesar now; 
My queen's not only, innocent, but loves me. 
This, this is she, who drags me down to ruin ! 
But, could she escape without me, with what 

haste 
Would she let slip her hold, and make to shore, 
And never look behind ! 
Down on thy knees, blasphemer as thou art, 
And ask forgiveness of wronged innocence. 

Vent. I'll rather die than take it Will you 
go? 

Ant. Go ! whither ? go from all that's excel- 
lent ! 
Faith, honour, virtue, all good things, forbid 
That I should go from her, who sets my love 
Above the price of kingdoms. Give, you gods ! 
Give to your boy, your Caesar, 
This rattle of a globe to play withal, - 
This gewgaw world, and put him cheaply off; 
I'll not be pleased with less than Cleopatra. 

Cleo* She's wholly yours. My heart's so full 
of joy, 
That I shall do some wild extravagance 
Of love in public, and the foolish world, 
Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad. 

Vent. Oh women ! women ! women ! all the 
gods 
Have not such power of doing good to man 
As you of doing harm. [Exit. 

Ant. Our men are armed : 
Unbar the gate, that looks to Cesar's camp ; ' 
I would revenge the treachery he meant me, 
And long security makes conquest easy. 
I'm eager to return before I go, 
For all the pleasures I have known beat thick 
On my remembrance. How I long for night ! 
That both the sweets of mutual love may try, 
And triumph once o'er Caesar ere we die. 

[Exeunt. 



act m 



SCENE! 



Enter Cleopatra, Charm ion, Iras, Alex as, 
and a train of Egyptians, Anton y and Romans ; 
Cleopatra crowns Antony. 

Ant I Thought how those white arms would 
fold me in, 
And strain me close and melt me into love x 
So pleased with that sweet image I sprung for- 
wards, 
And added all my strength to every blow. 

Cleo. Come to me, come, my soldier* to my 
arms ! 
You have been too long away from my embraces ; 
But when I have you fast, and all my own. 
With broken murmurs and with amorous sighs 
TO say you are unkind, and punish you, 
And mark you red with many an eager kiss* 



Ant: My brighter Venus ! 

Cleo. Oh, my greater Mars ! 

Ant. Thou joinest us well, my love. 
Suppose me come from the Phlegraean plains, 
Where gasping giants lay cleft by my sword, 
And mountain-tops paru off each other blow 
To bury those I slew ; receive me, goddess ! 
Let Caesar spread his subtle nets, like Vulcan; 
In thy embraces I would be beheld 
By heaven and earth at once, 
And make their envy what they meant their 

sport, 
Let those, who took us, blush ; I would love on. 
With awful state, regardless of their frowns, 
As their superior god. 
There's no satiety of love in thee ; 
Enjoyed, thou still art new ; perpetual spring 
Is in thy arms; the ripened fruit but falls, 



Dbyden.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



199 



And blossom* rise to fill its empty place, 
And I grow rich by giving. 

Enter Ventidius, and stands apart 
Alex. Oh, now the dangers past, your general 



He joins not in your ioys, nor minds your triumphs, 
But with contracted brows looks frowning on, 
As envying your success. 

.At*. Now, on my soul, he loves me, truly loves me; 
He never flattered me in any vice, 
But awes me with his virtue : even this minute, 
Methinks, he has a right of chiding me. 
Lead to the temple; 111 avoid his presence; 
It checks too strong upon me. [Exeunt the rest. 
[As Antony is going, Ventidius pulls him 
by the robe. 
Vent. Emperor! 
Ant. Tis the old argument; I prithee spare 



[Looking back. 

Vent. But this one hearing, emperor. 

Ant. Let go 
My robe, or by my father Hercu les  <  . 

Vent. By Hercules' father— that^s yet greater, 
I bring you somewhat you would wish to know, 

Ant. Thou seest we are observed ; attend me 
here, 
And 111 return. [Exit 

Vent. I'm waning in his favour, yet I love him; 
I love this man, who runs to meet his ruin ! 
And sure the gods, like me, are fond of hin\: 
His virtues lie so mingled with his crimes, 
As would confound their choice to punish one, 
And not reward the other. 

Enter Antony. 

Ant. We can conquer, 
You see, without your aid : 
We have dislodged their troops. 
They look«n us at distance, and like curs, 
leaned from the lion's paws, they bay far oS, 
And lick their wounds, and faintly threaten war. 
Fire thousand Romans, with their faces upward, 
lie breathless on the plain. 

VenL Tis well ; and he 
Who lost them could have spared ten thousand 

more: 
Yet if by this advantage you could gain 
An easier peace, while Caesar doubts the chance 
Of 



Ant. Oh, think not on it, Ventidius ! 
The boy pursues my ruin ; he'll no peace ! 
His malice is considerate in advantage : 
Oh, he's the coolest murderer ! so staunch, 
He kills and keeps his temper. 

Vent. Have you no friend 
In all his army, who has power to move him ? 
Mecaeaas or Agrippa might do much. 

Ant. They're both too deep in Caesar's in- 



Well work it out by dint of sword, or perish. 



Vent. Fain I would find some other. 

Ant. Thank thy love. 
Some four or five such victories as this 
Will save thy farther pains. 

Vent. Expect no more ; Caesar is on his guard* 
I know, sir, you have conquered against odds ; 
But stillyou draw supplies from one poor town, 
And of Egyptians ; he has all the world, 
And at his beck nations come pouring in 
To fill the gaps you make. Pray think again. 

Ant. Why dost thou drive me from myself to 
search 
For foreign aids, to hunt my memory, 
And range all o'er a wide and barren place, 
To find a friend ? The wretched have no 

friends— — 
Yet I have one, the bravest youth of Rome, 
Whom Caesar loves beyond the love of women; 
He could resolve his mind, as fire does wax, 
From that hard rugged image melt him down, 
And mould him in what softer form he pleased* 

Vent. Him would I see, that man of all the 
world! 
Just such a one we want 

Ant. He loved me too; 
I was bis soul ; he lived not but in me : 
We were so closed within each other's breasts. 
The rivets were not found, that joined us first, 
That does not reach us yet : we were so mixt 
As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost: 
We were one mass : we could not give or take 
But from the same ; for he was I, I he. 

Vent. He moves as I would wish him. [Aside. 

Ant. After this 
I need not tell hi* name : 'twas Dolabella. 

Vent. He is now in Caesar's camp. 

Ant. No matter where, 
Since he is no longer mine. He took unkindly, 
That I forbad him Cleopatra's sight, 
Because I feared he loved her. He confest 
He had a warmth, which for my sake he stifled ; 
For 'twere impossible, that two, so one, 
Should not have loved the same. When he de-* 

parted, 
He took no leave, and that confirmed my thoughts. 

Vent. It argues, that he loved you more than 
her, 
Else he had staid ; but he perceived you jealous, 
And would not grieve his friend. I know he 
loves you. 

Ant. I should have seen him, then, ere now. 

Vent. Perhaps 
He has thus long been labouring for your peace. 

Ant. Would he were here ! 

Vent. Would you believe he loved you i 
I read your answer in your eyes, you would^ 
Not to conceal it longer, he has scut 
A messenger from Caesar's camp with letters. 

Ant. Let him appear. 

Vent. I'll bring nun instantly. 
[Exit VentuUusj and reenters immediately 
with Dolabella* 



200 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Dryden„ 



Ant. Tis he himself, himself ! by holy friend- 
ship ! [Runs to embrace him. 
Art thou returned at last, my better half I 
Come, give me all myself ! 
Let me not live. 

If the young bridegroom, longing for his night, 
Was ever half so fond ! 

DoL I must be silent, for my soul is busy 
About a nobler work. She's new come home, 
Like a long absent man, and wanders o'er 
Each room, a stranger to her own, to look 
If all be safe. 

Ant. Thou hast what's left of me, 
For I am now so sunk from what I was, 
Thou findest me at my lowest watermark j 
The rivers, that ran in, and raised my fortunes, 
Are all dried up, or take another course : 
What I have left is from my native spring ; 
I have still a heart, that swells, in scorn of fate, 
And lifts me to my banks. 

DoL Still you are lord of all the world to me. 

Ant. Why then, I yet am so, for thou art all ! 
If I had any joy, when thou wert absent, 
I grudged it to myself; metbought I robbed 
Thee of thy part But oh, my Dolabella ! 
Thou hast beheld me other than I a m   
Hast thou not seen my morning chambers filled 
With sceptercd slaves, who waited to salute me? 
With eastern monarchs, who forgot the sun, 
To worship my uprising ? Menial kings 
Kan coursing up and down my palace-yard, 
Stood silenced in my presence, watched my eyes, 
And, at my least command, all started out, 
like racers to the goal. 

DoL Slaves to your fortune. 

Ant. Fortune is Caesar's now ; and what am I? 

Vent. What you have made yourself : I will 
not flatter. 

Ant. Is this friendly done ? 

DoL Yes, when his end is so : I must join with 
him, 
Indeed I must, and yet you must not chide : 
Why am I else your friend ? 

Ant. Take heed, young man, 
How thou upbraidest my love ! the queen has 

eyes, 
And thou too hast a soul I Canst thou remember 
When, swelled with hatred, thou beheldest her 

first, 
As accessary to thy brother's death ? 

DoL Spare my remembrance ! 'twas a guilty 
day, 
And still the blush hangs here. 

Ant. To clear herself 
For sending him no aid, she came from Egypt. 
Her galley down the silver Sydnos rowed, 
The tackling silk, the streamers waved with gold, 
The gentle winds were lodged in purple sails, 
Her nymphs, like Nereids, round her couch were 

placed, 
Whore she, another sea-born Venus, lay. 

DoL No more ! I would not hear it I 



Ant Oh, you must ! 
She lay, and leant her cheek upon her hand, 
And cast a look so languishingjy sweet, 
As if, secure of all beholders* hearts, 
Neglecting she could take them. Boys, like Cu- 
pids, 
Stood fanning with their painted wines the winds, 
That played about her face ; but if she smiled, 
A darting glory seemed to blaze abroad, 
That men's desiring eyes were never wearied, 
But hung upon the object ! To soft flutes 
The silver oars kept tune, and while they played, 
The hearing gave new pleasure to the sight, 
And both to thought. Twas heaven, or some* 

what more ! 
For she so charmed all hearts, that gazing crowds 
Stood panting on the shore, and wanted breath 
To give their welcome voice. 
Then, Dolabella, where was then- thy soul f 
Was not thy fury Quite disarmed with, wonder ? 
Didst thou not shrink behind me from those eyes, 
And whisper in my ear, Oh, tell her not, 
That I accused her of my brother's death ! 

DoL And should my weakness be a plea for 
yours? 
Mine was an age, when love might be excused, . 
When kindly warmth, and when my springing 

youth 
Made it a debt to nature : yours 

Vent. Speak boldly : 
Yours, he would say, in your declining age, 
When no more heat was left but what you forced, 
When all the sap was needful for the trunk, 
When it went down, then they constrained the, 

course, 
And robbed from nature to supply desire. 
In you (I would not use so harsh a word) 
Tis but plain dotage. 

Ant. Ha ! 

Dot. Twas urged too home. 
But yet the loss was private that I made ; 
Twas but myself I lost; I lost no legions; 
I had no world to lose, no people's love. 

Ant. This from a friend r 

DoL Yes, Antony, a true one ; 
A friend so tender, that each word I speak 
Stabs my own heart before it reach your ear. 
Oh ! judge me not less kind, because I chide. 
To Cesar I excuse you. 

Ant. Oh, ye gods ! 
Have I then lived to be excused to Caesar ! 

DoL As to your equal. 

Ant. Well, he's but my equal r 
While I wear this, he never shall be more. 

DoL I bring conditions from ram. 

Ant. Are thev noble ? 
Methinks thou snouldst not bring them else ; yet 

he 
Is full of deep dissembling, knows no honour 
Divided from -his interest Fate mistook him, 
For Nature meant him for an usurer : 
He's fit indeed to buy, not conquer kingdoms^ 

3 



Dryden.} 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



eoi 



Vent. Then, granting this, 
What power wfes theirs, * ho wrought so hard a 

temper 
To honourable terms ? 

Ant. It was my Dolabefla, or some god. 

DoL Not I, nor yet Mecsenas nor Agrippa ; 
They were your enemies, and I, a friend, 
Too weak alone; yet 'twas a Roman deed. 

Ant. Twas like a Roman done. Show me 
that man, 
Who has preserved my life, my love, my honour; 
Let me but see his face ! 

Vent. That task is mine, 
And heaven ! thou know'st how pleasing. 

[Exit Vent. 

DoL You'll remember, 
To whom you stand obliged ? 

Ant. When I forget it. 
Be thou unkind, and that's my greatest curse. 
My queen shall thank him too. 

DoL I fear she will not. 

Ant. But she shall do it. The queen, my Do- 
labella ! 
Hast thou not still some grudgings of thy fever? 

DoL I would not see her lost. 

Ant. When J forsake her, 
Leave me my better stars, for she has truth 
Beyond her beauty. Caesar tempted her 
At no less price than kingdoms to betray me ; 
But she resisted all : and yet thou chidest me 
For loving her too well. Could I do so ? 

Dot. Yes ; there's my reason. 

He-enter Ventidius with Octavia, leading 
Antontfi two little Daughters. 

Ant. Where — Octavia there ! [Starting back. 
Vent. What ! is she poison to you ? a disease? 
Look on her, view her well, and those she brings : 
Are they all strangers to your eyes ? has Nature 
No secret call, no whisper, they are yours ? 
DoL For shame, my lord, if not for love, re- 
ceive them 
With kinder eyes. If you confess a man, 
Meet them, embrace them, bid them welcome to 

you. 
Your arms should open, even without your know- 
ledge, 
To clasp them in ; your feet should turn to 

wings 
To bear you to them ; and your eyes dart out, 
And aim a kiss, ere you could reach their lips. 
Ant. I stood amazed to think how they came 

hither. 
Vent. I sent for them ; I brought them in, un- 
known 
To Cleopatra's guards. 
DoL Yet are you cold ? 
Oct. Thus long have I attended for my wel- 
come, 
Which, as a stranger, sure I might expect. 
Who ami? 
Ant. Caesar's sister. 

VOL.X 



Oct. That's unkind ! 
Had I been nothing more than Caesar's sister, 
Know I had still remained in Ciesar's camp : 
But your Octavia, your mnch injured wife, 
Though banished from your bed, driven from 

your house, 
In spite of Caesar's sister, still is yours. 
' Tis true, I have a heart disdains your coldness. 
And prompts ine not to seek what you should 

offer; 
But a wife's virtue still surmounts that pride : 
I come to claim you as my own, to show 
My duty first, to ask, nay beg, your kindness. 
Your hand, my lord; 'tis mine, and T will have it. 

[Taking hit hand. 

Vent. Do take it, thou deservest it 

Dot. On my soul, 
And so she docs. She's neither too submissive, 
Nor yet too haughty ; but so just a mean 
Shows, as it ought, a wife and Roman too. 

Ant . I fear, Octavia, you have begged my life. 

Oct. Begged it, ray lord ! 

Ant. Yes, begged it, my ambassadress ; 
Poorly and basely begged It of your brother. 

Oct. Poorly and basely I could never beg, 
Nor could my brother grant. 

Ant. Shall I, who to my kneeling slave could 

Rise up and be a king, shall I fall down 
And cry, « Forgive me, Caesar P Shall I set 
A man, my equal, in the place of Jove, 
As he could give me being ? No ; that word, 
Forgive, would choke me up, 
And die upon my tongue. 
DoL You shall not need it. 
Ant. I will not need it Come, you have all 

betrayed me — 
My friend too ! to receive some vile conditions. 
My wife has bought me with her prayers and 

tears, 
And now I must become her branded slave : 
In every peevish mood she will upbraid 
The life sne gave : if I but look awry, 
She cries, ' Til tell my brother.' 

Oct. My hard fortune 
Subjects me still to your unkind mistakes : 
But the conditions I have brought are such 
You need not blush to take. I love your honour, 
Because 'tis mine. It never shall be said 
Octavia's husband was her brother's slave. 
Sir, you are free, free even from her you loathe; 
For though my brother bargains for your love, 
Makes me the price and cement of your peace, 
[ have a soul like yours ; I cannot take 
Your love as alms, nor bee what I deserve. 
I'll tell ray brother we are reconciled ; 
He shall draw back his troops, and you shall 

march ' 

To rule the east I may be dropt at Athens ; 
No matter where ; I never will complain, 
But only keep the barren name of wife, 
And rid you of the tm'ible. 



20& 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Drydejt; 



Vent. Was ever such a strife of sullen honour ! 
Both scorn *to he obliged. 

DoL Oh, she has touched him in the tender- 
est part : 
See how he reddens with despite and shame, 
To be outdone in generosity ! 

Vent. See how he winks ! how he dries up a 
tear, 
That fain would fall ! 

Ant. Octavia, I have heard you, and must 
praise 
The greatness of your soul, 
But cannot yield to what you have proposed ; 
For I can ne'er be conquered but by love, 
And you do all for duty. You would free me, 
And would be dropt at Athens ; was it not so ? 

Oct. It was, my lord. 

Ant. Then I must be obliged 
To one, who loves me not, who to herself 
May call me thankless and ungrateful man. 
I'll not endure it ; no. 

Vent. I'm glad it pinches there. 

Oct. Would you triumph o'er poor Octavia's 
virtue ? 
That pride was all I had to bear me up, 
That you might think you owed me for your life. 
And owed it to my duty, not my love. 
I have been injured, and my haughty soul 
Could brook but ill the man, who slights my 
bed. 

Ant. Therefore, you love me not 

Oct. Therefore, my lord, 
I should not love you. 

Ant. Therefore vou would leave me. 

Oct. And therefore I should leave you — if I 
could. 

Dol. Her soul's too great, after such injuries, 
To say she loves, and yet she lets you see it. 
Her modesty and silence plead her cause. 

Ant. Oh, Dolabella ! which way shall I turn ? 
I find a secret yielding in my soul ; 
But Cleopatra, who would die with me, 
Must she be left ? Pity pleads for Octavia, 
But does it not plead more for Cleopatra ? 

Vent. Justice and pity both plead for Octavia, 
For Cleopatra neither. 
One would be ruined with you, but she first 
Had ruined you ; the other you have ruined, 
And yet she would preserve you. 
In every thing their merits are unequal. 

Ant. Oh, ray distracted soul ! 

Oct. Sweet heaven, compose it ! 
Come, come, my lord, if I can pardon you, 
Methinks you should accept it. Look on these ; 
Are they not yours ? or stand they thus neglected 
As they are mine ? Go to him, children, go ; 
Kneel to him, take him by the hand, speak to 

him, 
For you may speak, and he may own you too 
Without a Blush ; and so he cannot all 
His children. Go, I say, and pull him to me, 
And pull him to yourselves, from that bad 
woman: 



You, Agrippina, bane upon his arms. 
And you, Antonia, clasp about his waist : 
If he will shake you off, if he will dash you 
Against the pavement, you must bear it, children*/ 
For you are mine, and I was born to suffer. 

[Here the children so to him. See. 

Vent. Was ever sight so moving! Emperor ! 

Dol. Friend ! 

Oct. Husband! 

Both Child. Father ! 

Ant. I am vanquished : take me, 
Octavia, take me, children, share me all. 

[Embracing them* 
I have been a thriftless debtor to your loves, 
And run out much in riot from your stock ; 
But all shall be amended. 

Oct. Oh, blest hour! 

DoL Oh, happy change I 

Vent. My joy stop at my tongue ! 
But it has found two channels here for one, 
And bubbles out above. 

Ant. [To Oct.] This is thy triumph: lead me 
where thou wilt, 
Even to thy brother's camp. 

Oct. All there are yours. 

Enter Alex as hastily. 

Alex. The queen, my mistress, sir, and yours — 
Ant. 'Tis past. Octavia, you shall stay this 
night; 
To-morrow Cesar and we are one. 

[Exit, leading Oct. Dol. and the children fol- 
low. 
Vent. There is news for you ! Run, my offi- 
cious eunuch ! 
Be sure to be the first ; haste forward ; 
Haste, my dear eunuch, haste ! [Exit. 

Alex. This downright fighting fool, this thick- 
skulled hero, 
This blunt unthinking instrument of death, 
With plain dull virtue, has outgone my wit. 

Enter Cleopatra, Charm ion, Iras, and train. 

Oh, madam 1 I have seen what blasts my eyes ; 
Octavia is here ! 

Cleo. Peace with thy raven's note ! 
I know it too, and now am in 
The pangs of death. 

Alex. You are no more a queen, 
Egypt is lost. 

Cleo. What tellest thou me of Egypt ! 
My life, my soul is lost ! Octavia has him ! 
Oh, fatal name to Cleopatra's love ! 
My kisses, my embraces, now are her's, 
While I — But thou hast seen my rival ; speak, 
Docs she deserve this blessing ? is she fair ? 
Bright as a goddess ? and is all perfection 
Confined to her ? It is. Poor I was made 
Of that coarse matter, which, when she was fi- 
nished, 
The gods threw by for rubbish. 

Alex. She is indeed a very miracle. 






Dryden.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



203 



Cleo. Death to my hopes, a miracle ! 

Alex. A miracle— - [Bowing. 

I mean of goodness ; for in beauty, madam, 
You make all wonder cease. 

Cleo. I was too rash : 
Take this in part of recompence. Bat oh ! 
I fear thou flatterest me. [Giving a ring. 

Char. She comes ! she's here ! 

Iran. Fly, madam ! Cesar's sister ! 

Cleo. Were she the sister of the thunderer Jove, 
And bore her brother's lightning in her eyes, 
Thus would I face my rival. 

Enter Octavia with Ventidius. Octavia 
bears up to Cleopatra. 

Oct. I need not ask, if you are Cleopatra; 
Your haughty carriage 

Cleo. Shews I am a queen. 
Nor need I ask who you are. 

Oct. A Roman ; 
A name, that makes and can unmake a queen. 

Cleo. Your lord, the man who serves me, is a 
Roman. 

Oct. He was a Roman, till he lost that name 
To be a slave in Egypt ; but I come 
To free him hence. 

Cleo. Peace, peace, my lover's Juno ! 
When he grew weary of that household clog, 
He chose my easier bonds. 

Oct. I wonder not 
Your bonds are easy; you have long been prac- 
tised 
Ib that lascivious art. He is not the first, 
For whom you spread your snares ; let C&sar 
witness. 

Cleo.* I loved net Caesar; it was but gratitude 
I paid his love : the worst your malice can, 
Is but to say the greatest of mankind 
Has been my slave. The next, but far above 

him 
In my esteem, is he, whom law calls yours, 
But whom his love made mine. 

Oct. I would view nearer [Coming up close 

to her. 
That face, which has so long usurped my right, 
To find the inevitable charms, that catch 
Mankind so sure, that ruined my dear lord. 

Cleo. Oh, you do well to search ; for had you 
known 
But half these charms, you had not lost his heart 

Oct. Far be their knowledge from a Roman 
lady, 
far from a modest wife. Shame of our sex ! 



Dost thou not blush to own those black endear- 
ments, 
That make sin pleasing ? 

Cleo. You may blush you want them. 
If bounteous nature, if indulgent heaven, 
Have given me charms to please the bravest man, 
Should I not thank them ? should I be ashamed, 
And not be proud ? I am, that he has loved me ; 
And, when I love not him, heaven change this 

face 
For one like that ! 

Oct. Thou West him not so well. 

Cleo. I love him better, and deserve him more. 

Oct. You do not, cannot : you have been his 
ruin. 
Who made him cheap at Rome, but Cleopatra ? 
Who made him scorned abroad, but Cleopatra? 
At Actium who betrayed him ? Cleopatra. 
Who made his children orphans, and poor me 
A wretched widow ? only Cleopatra. 

Cleo. Yet she, who loves him best, is Cleopatra. 
If you have suffered, I have suffered more. 
You bear the specious title of a wife, 
To gild your cause, and draw the pitying world 
To favour it : the world contemns poor me, 
For I have lost my honour, lost my fame, 
And stained the glory of my royal house, 
And all to bear die branded name of mistress. 
There wants but life, and that too I would lose 
For him I love. 

Oct. Be it so then ; take thy wish. 

[Exit with Vent. 

Cleo. And 'tis my wish, 
Now he is lost, for whom I lived. 
My sight grows dim, and every object dances 
And swims before me in the maze of death. 
My spirits, while they were opposed, kept up ; 
They could not sink beneath a rival's scorn : 
But now she's gone they faint. 

Alex. Mine have had leisure 
To recollect their strength, and furnish counsel 
To ruin her, who else must ruin you. 

Cleo. Vain promiser ! 
Lead me, my Charmion; nay, your hand too, Iras. 
My grief has weight enough to sink you both. 
Conduct me to some solitary chamber, 
And draw the curtains round, 
Then leave me to myself, to take alone 
My fill of grief ; 

There I till death will his unkindness weep, 
As harmless infants mourn fhemsejves asleep. 

[Exeunt. 



204 



BRITISH DRAMA, 



[Dry i> eh. 



ACT IV, 



SCENE I.— 4 Saloon. 

Enter Antony and Dolabella. 

DoL Why would you shift it from yourself on 
me? 
Can you not tell her you must part? 

Ant. I cannot; 
I could pull out an eye and bid it go, 
And the other should not weep. Oh, Dolabella! 
How many deaths are in this word ' Depart !' 
I dare not trust my tongue to tell her so : 
One look of her'* would thaw me into tears, 
And I should melt, till I were lost again. 

DoL Then let Ventidius; 
He's rough by nature. 

Ant. Oh, he'll speak too harshly, 
He'll kill her with the news : thou, only thou, 

DoL Nature has cast me in so soft a mould, 
That but to hear a story, feigned for pleasure, 
Of some sad lover's death, moistens my eyes, 
And robs me of my manhood. — I should speak 
So faintly, with such fear to grieve her heart, 
She'd not believe it earnest. 

Ant. Therefore, therefore 
Thou, only thou, art tit. Think thyself me, 
And when thou speakest (but let it first be long), 
Take off the edge from every sharper sound. 
And let our parting be as gently made 
As other loves begin. Wilt thou do this ? 

DoL What you have said so sinks into my soul, 
That, if I must speak, 1 shall speak iust so. 

Ant. I leave you then to your sad task. Fare- 
well ! 
I sent her word to meet you. 

[Goes to the door, and comes back. 
I forgot : 

Let her be told, I'll make her peace with mine : 
Her crown and dignity shall be preserved, 
If I have power with Caesar — —-Oh ! be sure 
To think on that ! 

DoL Fear not, I will remember. 
[Antony goes again to the door, and comet back. 

Ant. And tell her too, how much I was con- 
strained ; 
I did not this but with extremest force. 
Desire her not to hate my memory, 
For I'll still cherish hers insist on that 

DoL Trust me, 111 not forget it. 

Ant. Then that's all. 

[Goes out and returns again. 
Wilt thou forgive my fondness this once more ? 
Tell her, though we shall never meet again, 
If I should hear she took another love, 
The news would break my heart — Now I must 

For every time, I have returned, I feel 
My soul more tender, and my next command 
Would be to bid her stay, and ruin both. [Exit. 
DoL Men are but children of a larger growth, 



Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, 
And full as craving too, and full as vain ; 
And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room, 
V iewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing, 
But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind, 
Works all her folly up, and casts it outward 
To the world's open view. Thus I discovered, 
And blamed the love of ruined Antony, 
Yet wish, that 1 were he, to be sp ruined. 

JZnter Ventidius above. 

Vent. Alone, and talking to himself! Con- 
cerned too! 
Perhaps my guess is right : he loved her once, 
And may pursue it still. 

DoL Oh, friendship ! friendship ! 
Ill canst thou answer this, reason worse : 
Unfaithful in the attempt, hopeless to win, 
And, if I win, undone. Mere madness all. 
And yet the occasion fair. What injury 
To him, to wear the robe, which he throws by ? 

Vent. None, none at all. Tliis happens as I 
wish, 
To ruin her yet more with Antony. [Aside, 

Enter Cleopatra, talking with Alex as, Char~ 
if ion, and Iras, on the other side. 

DoL She comes! what charms have sorrow on 
that face ! 
Sorrow seems pleased to dwell with so much 

sweetness; 
Yet now and then a melancholy smile 
Breaks loose, like lightning in a winter's night, 
And shows a moment's day. 

Vent, If she should love him too ! Her eunuch 
there! 
That porc'pisce bodes ill weather. Draw, draw 

nearer, 
Sweet devil ! that I may hear. 
Alex. Believe me ; try 

[Dolabella goes over to Charmion and 
Iras, seems to talk with them. 
To make bim jealous ; jealousy is like 
A polished glass, held to the lips, when life's in 

doubt: 
If there be breath, 'twill catch the lamp and show 
it. 
Cleo. I grant you jealousy's a proof of love, 
But 'tis a weak and unavailing medicine ; 
It puts out the disease, and makes it show, 
But has no power to cure. 

Alex. Tis your last remedy, and strongest too: 
And then this Dolabella, who so fit 
To practise on ? He's handsome, valiant, young, 
And looks as he were laid for nature's bait 
To catch weak women's eyes. 
He stands already more than half suspected 
Of loving you : the least kind word or glance, 
You give this youth, will kindle him with love ; 



Deydbn.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



£05 



Then, like a burning vessel set adrift, 
You'll send him down amain before the wind, 
To ate the heart of jealous Antony. 

Cleo. Can I do this? ah, ao! my Jove's so true, 
That I can neither hide it, where it is, 
Nor show it, where it is not. Nature meant me 
A wife, a silly,' harmiets household dove, 
Fond without art, and kind without deceit ; 
But fortune, that has made a mistress of me, 
Has thrust me out to the wide world, unfurnished 
Of falsehood to be happy. 

Alex. Force yourself; 
Toe event will be, your lover will return 
Doubly desirous to possess the good. 
Which once he feared to lose. 

Cleo. I must attempt it; 
But oh, with what regret ! 

[Exit Alex. She comes up to DolabeUa. 

Vent'. So now the scene draws near ; they're in 
my reach. 

Cleo. to DoL Discoursing with my women ! 
Might not I 
Share in your entertainment ? 

Char. You have been 
The subject of it, madam. 

Cieo. How ! and how ? 

Iras. Such praises of your beauty ! 

Cleo. Mere poetry : 
Tour Roman wits, your Gallus and Tibullus, 
Have taught you this from Cytheris and Delia. 

Dol. lliose Roman wits have never been in 
Rgypt 
Cytheris and Delia else had been unsung : 
I, who have seen— had I been born a poet, 
Should chute a nobler name, 

Cleo. You flatter me ; 
But it is your nation's vice : all of your country 
Are flatterers, and all false. Your friend is like 

you; 
I am sore he sent you not to speak these words. 

DoL No, madam ; yet he sent m e 

Cleo. Well, he sent you— 

Dol. On a less pleasing errand. 

Cleo. How ! less pleasing ? 
Less to yourself or me ? 

DoL Madam, to both ; 
For you must mourn, and I must grieve to cause 
it 

Cko, You, Charmion, and your fellow, stand 
at distance. 
Hold up, my spirits 9 [Aside .]— -Well, now your 

mournful matter, 
For I am prepared, perhaps can guess it too. 

DoL I wish you would, for 'tis a thankless 
office 
To tell ill news; and I, of all your sex> 
Most fear displeasing you. 

Cleo. Of all your sex, 
I soonest could forgive you, if you should. 

Vent. Most delicate, advances ! Woman ! wo- 
man! 
Dear, damned unconstantsex ! 



Cleo. In the first place, 
[ am to be forsaken ; is it not so ? 
Dol. I wish I could not answer to that ques- 
tion. 
Cleo. Then pass it over, because it troubles you; 
I should have been more grieved another time. 
Next, I am to lose my kingdom — Farewell, Egypt ! 
Yet is there any more ? 
DoL Madam, I fear 
Your too deep sense of grief has turned your 
reason. 
Cleo. No, no, I am not run mad; I can bear 
fortune ; 
And love may be expelled by other love, 
As poisons are by poisons. 

DoL You overjoy me, madam, 

To find your griefs so moderately borne. 
You have the worst: all are not false like him. 
Cleo. No, heaven forbid they should ! 
DoL Some men are constant, 
Cleo. And constancy deserves reward, that is 

certain. 
DoL Deserves it not, but give it leave to hope. 
Vent. I'll swear thou hast my leave. I have 
enough: 
But how to manage this ! Well, I'll consider. 

[Exit. 
DoL I came prepared 
To tell you heavy news; news, which I thought 
Would fright the blood from your pale cheeks to 

hear; 
But you have met it with a chearfulness, 
That makes my task more easy ; and my tongue, 
Which on another's message was employed, 
Would gladly speak its own. 

Cleo. Hold, Dolabella. 
First tell me, were you chosen by my lord, 
Or sought you this employment r 
DoL He pieked me out, and, as his bosom- 
friend, 
He charged me with his words. 

Cleo. The message then 
I know was tender, and each accent smooth, 
To mollify that rugged word * Depart !' 
DoL Oh ! you mistake : he chose the harshest 
words: 
With fiery eyes, and with contracted brows, 
He coined his face in the severest stamp, . 
And fury shook his fabric like an earthquake : 
He heaved for vent, and burst, like bellowing 

Etna, 
In sounds scarce human, ' Hence, away for ever ! 
' Let her begone, the blot of my renown, 
' And bane of all my hopes ! 

[All the time of this speech Cleopatra seems 
more and more concerned^ till site sinks quite 
down. 

'Let her be driven, as far as men can think, 
* From man's commerce : she'll poison to the cen- 
tre.' 
Cleo. Oh, I can bear no more ! [Faints. 



£06 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Dryden. 



DoL Help, help ! Oh wretch ! oh cursed! cur- 
sed wretch ! 
Char. Help ! chafe her temples, Iras. 
Iras. Bend, bend her forward quickly. 
. Char. Heaven be praised, 
She comes again ! 

Cleo, Oh, let him not reproach me ! 
Why have you brought me back to this loathed 

being, 
The abode of falsehood, violated vows, 
And injured love ! For pity let me go ; 
For, if there be a place of lone repose, 
I am sure I want it My disdainful lord 
Can never break that quiet, nor awake 
The sleeping soul with hollowing in my tomb 
Such words as fright her hence. Unkind ! un- 
kind! 
DoL Believe me 'tis against myself I speak ; 

[Kneeling. 
That sure deserves belief. I injured him ; 
My friend ne'er spoke these words. Oh ! had 

you seen 
How often he came back, and every time 
With something more obliging and more kind 
To add to what he said ; what dear farewells, 
How almost vanquished by his love he parted, 
And leaned to wnat unwillingly he left : 
I, traitor as I was, for love of you, 
(But what can you not do, who made me false !) 
I forged that lie, for whose forgiveness kneels 
This self-accused, self-punished, criminal. 

Cleo. With how much ease believe we what 
we wish ! 
Rise, Dolabella ; if you have been guilty, 
I have contributed, and too much love 
Has made me guilty too. 
The advance of kindness, which I made, was 

feigned, 
To call back fleeting love by jealousy; 
But it would not last ! Oh ! rather let me lose. 
Than so ignobly trifle with, his heart. 

DoL I find your breast fenced round from hu- 
man reach, 
Transparent as a rock of solid crystal, 
Seen through, but never pierced. My friend, my 

friend ! 
What endless treasure hast thon thrown away, 
And scattered, like an infant, in the ocean 
Vain sums of wealth, which none can gather 
thence ! 
Cleo. Could you not beg 
An hour's admittance to his private ear } 
Like one, who wanders through long barren wilds, 
And yet foreknows no hospitable inn 
Is near to succour hunger, 
Eats his fill before his painful march, 
So would I feed a while my famished eyes 
Before we part, for I have far to go, 
If death be far, and never must return. 

Ventidius, with Octavia, behind. 

Vent. From whence you may discovciv-Oh, 
sweet, sweet ! 



Would you indeed ! the pretty hand in earnest ? 

[Aside 
DoL I will, for this reward : [Takes her hand* 
  - D raw it not back ; 
Tis all I e'er will beg. 
Vent. They turn upon us. 
Oct. What quick eyes has guilt ! 
Vent. Seem not to have observed them, and 
goon. 

They enter. 

DoL Saw you the emperor, Ventidius ? 

Vent. No; 
I sought him, but I heard, that he was private, 
None with him but Hipparchus, his freed man. 

DoL Know you his business ? 

Vent. Giving him instructions 
And letters to his brother, Cesar. 

DoL Well, 
He must be found [Exeunt Dolabella and 

Cleopatra* 

Oct. Most glorious impudence ! 

Vent, She looked, methought, 
As she would say, ' Take your old man, Octavia} 
Thank you, I am better here,' 
Well, but what use 
Make we of this discovery ? 

Oct. Let it die. 

Vent. I pity Dolabella! but she is dangerous ; 
Her eyes have power beyond Thessalian charms 
To draw the moon from heaven ; for eloquence 
The sea-green Sirens taught her voice their flat- 
tery^ 
And, while she speaks, night steals upon the day, 
Unmarked of those, that hear: then she's so 

charming, 
Age buds at sight of her, and swells to youth : 
The holy priests gaze on her when she smiles, 
And with heaved hands, forgetting gravity, 
They bless her wanton eyes : even I, who hate 

her, 
With a malignant joy behold such beauty, 
And, while I curse, desire it Antony 
Must needs have some remains of passion still, 
Which may ferment into a worse relapse, 
If now not fully cured — But see, he comes-— 
I know this minute 
With Caesar he is endeavouring her peace. 

Oct. You have prevailed — but tor a farther 
purpose [Walks off. 

I'll prove how he will relish this discovery. 
What, make a strumpet's peace ! it swells my 

heart: 
It must not, shall not be. 

Vent. His guards appear. 
Let me begjn, and you shall second me. 

Enter Antony. 

Ant. Octavia, I was looking for you, my love* 
What, are your letters ready f I have given 
My last instructions. 

Oct. Mine, my lord, are written. 

Ant. Ventidius ! [Drawing him aside* 



t)RYDEN.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



«07 



Vent. My lord ? ; 

Ant. A word in private. 
When saw you Dolabella ? 

Fen/. Now, my lord. 
He oarted hence, and Cleopatra with him. 

Ant. Speak softly ; 'twas by my command he 
went, 
To bear my last farewell. 

Vent. It looked indeed 
like your farewell. 

Ant. More softly — My farewell ! 
What secret meaning have you in these words, 
Of * my farewel ?* He did it by my order. 

Vent. Then he obeyed your order, I suppose. 

[Aloud. 
You bid him do it with all gentleness, 
All kindness, and all — love. 

Ant. How she mourned ! 
Hie poor forsaken creature ! 

Vent. She took it as she ought; she bore your 



57c 6 



As she did Caesar's, as she would another's, 
Were a new love to come. 

Ant. Thou dost belie her, 
Most basely and maliciously belie her. 

Vent. I thought not to displease you : I have 
done. 

Oct. You seem disturbed, my lord. [Coming up. 

Ant. A very trifle. 
Retire, my love. 

Vent. It was indeed a trifle. 
He sent 

Ant. No more. Look how thou disobe/st me ; 
Thy life shall answer it [Angrily. 

Oct. Then 'tis no trifle. 

Vent. [To Oct*] Tis less ; a very nothing : 
you too saw it 
As well as I, and therefore 'tis no secret 

Ant. She saw it ! 

Vent. Yes; she saw young Dolabella— 

Ant. Young Dolabella ! 

Vent. Young ? I think him young, 
And handsome too ; and so do others think him. 
But what of that ? he went by your command, 
Indeed, 'tis probable, with some kind message, 
For she received it graciously : She smiled; 
And then he grew familiar with her hand, 
Squeezed it, and worried it with ravenous kisses; 
She blushed, and sighed, and smiled, and blushed 

r ft > 
took occasion to talk softly, 

And brought her cheek up dose, and leaned on 

his, 

At which he whispered kisses back on hers ; 

And then she oryetl aloud, ' that constancy 

Should be rewarded !* — This I saw and heard. 

Ant. What woman was it, whom you heard 
and saw 
So playful with my friend ? 
Not Cleopatra? 

Vent. Even she, mf lord. 

Ant. My Cleopatra ! 



Vent. Your Cleopatra, 
Dolabella's Cleopatra, 
Every man's Cleopatra. 
Ant. Tis false. 
Vent. I do not lie, my lord. 
Is this so strange ? should mistresses be left, 
And not provide against a time of change ? 
You know she's not much used to lonely nights. 

Ant. I'll think no more of it 
I know 'tis false, and see the plot betwixt you. 
You need not have gone this way, Octavia ; 
What harms it you, that Cleopatra's just ? 
She's mine no more. I see and I forgive ; 
Urge it no farther, love. 

Oct. Are you concerned, 
That she's found false ? 

Ant. I should be, were it so ; 
For, though 'tis oast, I would not, that the world 
Should tax my former choice ; that I loved one 
Of so light note ; but I forgive you both. 

Vent. What has my age deserved, that you 
should think 
I would abuse your ears with perjury? 
If heaven be true, she's false. 

Ant. Though heaven and earth 
Should witness it, I'll not believe her tainted. 

Vent. I'U bring you, then, a witness 
From hell, to prove her so. Nay, go not back, 
[Seeing Alexasjutt entering, and starting back. 
For stay you must and shall. 
Alex. What means my lord ? 
Vent. To make you do what most you hate, 
speak truth. 
You are of Cleopatra's private counsel, 
Of her bed counsel, her lascivious hours, 
Are conscious of each nightly change she makes, 
And watch her as Chaldeans do the moon, 
Can tell what signs she passes through what day. 
Ales. My noble lord ! 
Vent. My most illustrious pandar ! 
No fine set speech, no cadence, no turned periods, 
But a plain homespun truth, is what I ask : 
I did myself o'erhear your queen make love 
To Dolabella : speak, for I will know, 
By your confession, what more passed betwixt 

them, 
How near the business draws to your employment, 
And when the happy hour ? 

Ant. Speak truth, Alexas; whether it offend 
Or please Ventidius, care not. Justify 
Thy injured queen from malice : dare his worst 
Oct. [Aside.] See how he gives him courage, 
now he fears 
To find her false, and shuts his eyes to truth, 
Willing to be misled ! 
Ales. As far as love may plead for woman's 
frailty, 
Urged by desert and greatness of the lover, 
So far, divine Octavia, may my queen 
Stand even excused to you for loving him, 
Who is your lord ; so far from brave Ventidius 
May her past actions hope a fair report. 



80S 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Dbyd*k. 



Ant. Tis well and truly spoken : Mark, 

Ventidius. 
Alex. To you, most noble emperor, her strong 
passion 
Stands not excused, but wholly justified 
Her beauty's charms alone, without her crown, 
From Ind and Meroe drew the distant vows 
Of sighing kings, and at her feet were laid 
The sceptres of the earth, exposed on heaps. 
To chuse where she would reign ; 
She thought a Roman only could deserve her, 
And, of jail Romans, only Antony ; 
And, to be less than wife to you, disdained 
Their lawful passion. 
Ant. lis but truth. 

Alex. And yet, though love and your unmatch- 
ed desert 
Have drawn her from the due regard of honour, 
At last heaven opened her unwilling eyes 
To see the wrongs, she offered fair Octavia, 
Whose holy bed she lawlessly usurped : 
The sad effects of this unprosperous war 
Confirmed those piouB thoughts. 

Vent. [Aside.] Oh, wheel you there? 
Observe him now ; the man begins to mend, 
And talk substantial reason. Fear not, eunuch; 
The emperor has given thee leave to speak. 

Alex. Else had I never dared to offend his ears 
With what the last necessity has urged 
On my forsaken mistress ; yet I must not 
Presume to say, her heart is wholly altered. 
Ant. No, dare not for thy life ! I charge thee> 
dare not 
Pronounce that fatal word ! 

Oct. Must I bear this? Good heaven ! afford 

me patience ! [Aside. 

Vent. Oh, sweet eunuch ! my dear halt man, 

proceed ! 
Alex. YetDolabella 
Has loved her long ; he, next my godlike lord, 
Deserves her best; and should she meet his 

passion, 
Rejected, as she is, by him she loved  

Ant. Hence from my sight, for I can bear no 
more! 
Let furies drag thee quick to hell ! each torturing 

hand 
Do thou employ till Cleopatra comes, 
Then join thou too, and help to torture her ! 

[Exit AlexaSy thrust out bu Antony. 
Oct. Tis not well ! 
Indeed, my lord, 'tis much unkind to me, 
To shew this passion, this extreme concernment, 
For an abandoned, faithless prostitute. 
Ant. Octavia, leave me ! I anunuch disorder- 
ed ! 
Leave me, I say ! 
Oct. My lord ! 
Ant, I bid you leave me. 
Vent. Obey him, madam ; best withdraw 
awhile, 
And see how this, will work. 

1 



Oct. Wherein have I offended yon, my lord, 
That I am bid to leave you f ami raise 
Or infamous ? am I a Cleopatra ? 
Were I she, 

Base as she is, yon would not bid me leave yon, 
But hang upon my neck, take slight excuses, 
And fawn upon my falsehood. 

Ant. Tis too much, 
Too much, Octavia ! I am prest with sorrows, 
Too heavy to be borne, and you add more ! 
I would retire, and recollect what's left 
Of man within, to aid me. 

Oct. You would mourn 
In private for your love, who has betrayed you. 
You did but half return to me ; your kindness - 
lingered behind with her. I hear, my lord, 
You make conditions for her, 
And would include her treaty : wondrous proofs 
Of love to me ! 

Ant. Are you my friend, Ventidius ? 
Or are you turned a Dolabella too, 
And let this fury loose ? 

Vent. Oh, be advised, 
Sweet madam ! and retire. 

Oct. Yes, I will go, but never to return ; 
You shall no more be haunted with this fury. 
My lord, my lord ! love will not always last, 
When urged with long unkindness and disdain. 
Take her again, whom you prefer to me ; 
She stays but to be called. Poor cozened man ! 
Let a feigned parting give her back your heart, 
Which a feigned love first got ; for injured me, 
Though my just sense of wrongs forbid my stay, 
My duty shall be yours. 
To the dear pledges of our former love 
My tenderness and care shall be transferred, 
And they shall cheer by turns my widowed 

nights. 
So take my last farewell ! for I despair 
To have you whole, and scorn to take yon half. 

[Erit. 

Vent. I combat heaven, which blasts my best 
designs ! 
My last attempt must be to win her back ; 
But oh ! I fear in vain. [Exit. 

Ant. Why was I framed with this plain honest 
heart, 
Which knows not to disguise its griefs and weak* 

ness, 
But bears its workings outward to the world ? 
I should have kept the mighty anguish in, 
And forced a smile at Cleopatra's falsehood ; 
Octavia bad believed it, ana had staid. 
But I am made a shallow-forded stream, 
Seen to the bottom, all my clearness scorned, 
And all my faults exposed.— See, where he 
comes, 

Enter Dolabella. 

Who has profaned the sacred name of friend, 

And worn it into vileness f 

With how secure a brow and specious form 



DftYMri.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



eop 



He pnfcth* secret ritaa! Save that face 
WaaaaeaatRir honesty, hut heevea ausaiatehed it, 
And furnished treason out with nature's pomp, 
To make its work mart easy. 

DoA O my friend ! 

Ant. Wea\ DekbeMa, you performed my 



DoL I cad, aamttmriy. 

Ami. Unwillingly! 
Was it so hard for you to bear eur parting ? 
Ton should have wished is. 

DbiWhy! 

Ant. Because you love me ; 
And she received mi 



with, as true, 
kyou brought it? 1 

DoL She loves you even ta madness. 

Ant. Oh! I know it. 
You, DosejbeUa, da not seder know 
How much she loves me. And shoald I 
Forsake this beauty, thk all petta creature? 

DoL I could not, were she mine. 

Ant. And yet you fink 
Fmi na dud me. mm come yon altered since ? 

DoL Ieaid at, first I was not fit to go: 
I could not hear her sighs, sad see her tears, 
But pity mast prevail; and so perhaps 
It may again with you; fat 1 have promised, 
That she shoald take her last farewell; and see, 
She comes to claim my wont 

JZafcT ClEOPATRA* 

Ant. False DokbeLk ! 
DoL WB*werafee,saykwdr 
Ant. Why, Dolabetta's rake, 
And Cleopatra's false; both false and faithless. 
you wehVjeined wickedacss, you 



Whom I have in my kindly bosom wanned, 
Till I am stung to death ! 

DoL My lord, have I 
Deserved to be thus used ? 

Cleo. Can heaven prepare 
A newer torment? can it find a curse 
Beyond our separation? 

Ant. Yes, if fate 
Be just, much greater: Heaven should beingeni- 



In prmishing such crimes. The rolling stone 
And gnawing vulture were slight pains, invented 
When Jove was yonngj and no evssnafes known 
Of mighty ills ; but you have lipeoea sin 
To such a monstrous growth, 'twill pose the goes 
To find an canal torture. Two, two saeh ! 
Oh, there's no farther name; two such to me, 
To me, who locked say sour within year breasts, 
Had no desires, no joys, ne ate, but yon ; 
When half the globe was mine, I gave k yen 
In dowry with my heart: I had no use, 
No fruit, of all but you : a friend and mistress 
Was what the world could gisev Oh, Cleopatra ! 
Oh, DekbeVa! hew could veu betray 
ThUteiMlerhear^wak^vathanbfart 
Vol. L 



Lay rowed betwixt yon bosoms, and there slept 
Secure of injured faith ? 

DoL If she has wronged you, 
Heaven, hell, and you, revenge it ! 

Ant. If she has wronged me ! 
Thou wonldst evade thy part of guilt: bat swear 
Thou lowest not her. 

DoL Not so ae I love you. 

Ant. Not so? Swear, swear, I say, thou dost 
not love her. 

DoL No more than friendship watt allow. 

Ant. No more f 
Friendship allows thee nothing : thou art perju- 

Andyet thou didst not swear woo Invest has not; 
But not so much, no more* Oh, trifling hypo- 
crite! 
Who durst not own to her thosi dost not love, 
Nor own to me thou dost I Ventidias beard it, 
Octavia saw it 

Cleo. They are enemies. 

Ant. Alexas is not so ; be, he confest it ; 
He, who nest belt best knew it, he avowed it. 
Why da I seek a proof beyond yourself [To DoL 
You, whom I sent to bear my last farewell, 
Returned to plead her stay. 

DoL What shall I answer? 
If to have roved be guilt, then I have sinned ; 
But if to have repented of that love 
Can wash away my crime, I have repented; 
Yet, if I have offended past forgiveness, 
Let her not suffer : she is innocent 

Cleo. Ah, what will not a woman do, who 
loves ! 
What means will she refuse to keep that heart, 
Where all her joys are placed ! 'twas I encou- 
raged, 
Twas I blew up the fire, that scorched his soul, 
To make you jealous, and by that regain you : 
But all in vain ; I could not counterfeit : 
In spite of all the dams, my love broke o'er, 
And drowned my heart again : Fate took the oc- 
casion, 
And thus one nshunVs feigning has destroyed 
My whole life's truth. 

Ant. Thin cobweb arts of falsehood, 
Seen and broke through at first 

DoL Forgive your mistress. 

Cms. Forgive your friend. 

Ant. Yon have convinced yourselves; 
You plead each other's cause. What witness have 

you, 
That you but meant to raise my jealousy ? 

Cleo. Ourselves- and heaven. 

Ant. Guilt witnesses for guilt I Hence love 
and friendship ! 
You have no longer place in human breasts; 
These two have driven you out: avoid my sight f 
I would not kill the man, whom I have loved, 
And cannot hurt the woman ; but avoid me ! 
I do not know how long I can be tame ; 
For. if I stay one minute more to think 

X 



£10 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Drydek. 



How I am wronged, my justice and revenge 
Will cry so loud within me, that my pity 
Will not be heard for either. 

Dot. Heaven has but 
Our sorrow for our sins, and then delights. 
To pardon erring man ; sweet mercy seems 
Its darling attribute, which limits justice, 
As if there were degrees in infinite, 
And infinite would rather want perfection, 
Than punish to extent. 

Ant. I can forgive 
A foe, but not a mistress and a friend i 
Treason is there in its most horrid shape, 
Where trust is greatest; and the soul resigned 
Is stabbed by its own guards. Ill hear no more : 
Hence from my sight tor ever ! 

Cleo. How ? for ever ! 
I cannot go one moment from your sight, 
And must I go for ever? 
My joys, my only joys, are centred here : 
What place have I to go to ? my own kingdom ? 
That I have lost for you ; or to the Romans ? 
They hate me for your sake : or must I wander 
The wide world o'er, a helpless banished woman, 
Banished for love of you, banished from you ; 
Ay, there's the banishment ! Oh, hear me, hear 

me, 
With strictest justice, for I beg no favour, 
And, if I have offended you, then kill me, 
But do not banish me ! 

Ant. I must not hear you ; 
I have a fool within me takes your part, 
'But honour stops my ears. 

Cleo. For pity hear me ! 
Would you cast off a slave, who followed you, 
•Who crouched beneath your spurn ? He has no 

pity ! 
Sec, if he gives one tear to my departure, 



One look, one kind farewell : oh, iron heart ! 
Let all the gods look down and judge betwixt us, 
If he did ever love ! 

Ant. No more. Alexas ! 

DoL A perjured villain ! 

Ant. to Cleo. Your Alexas! yours! 

Cleo. Oh, 'twas his plot ; his ruinous design 
To engage you in my love by jealousy. 
Hear him ; confront him with me ; let him speak. 

Ant. I have, I have. 

Cleo. And if he clear me not — 

Ant. Your creature! one, who hangs upon 
your smiles, 
Watches your eye, to say or unsay 
Whatever you please. I am not to be moved. 

Cleo. Then must we part? farewell, my cruel 
lord! 
The appearance is against me ; and I go, 
Unjustified, for ever from your sight 
How I have loved, you know ; how yet I love, 
My only comfort is, I know, myself: 
I love you more, even now you are unkind, 
Than when you loved me most ; so well, so truly, 
I'll never strive against, but die pleased 
To think you once were mine. 

Ant. Good Heaven ! they weep at parting. 
Must I weep too ? that calls them innocent. 
I must not weep ; and yet I must, to think, 
That I must not forgive— 
Live, but live wretched ; 'tis but just you should, 
Who made me so : live from each other's sight ; 
Let me not hear you meet Set all the earth 
And all the seas betwixt your sundered loves ;. 
View nothing common but the sun and skies* 
Now all take several ways, 
And each your own sad fate with mine deplore*, 
That you were false, and I could trust no more. 

[Exeunt severally* 



ACT V. 



SCENE L—The Temple. 



Enter Cleopatra, Charm ion, and Iras. 

Char. Be just, heaven ! such virtue, punished 
thus, 
Will make us think, that chance rules all above, 
And shuffles, with a random hand, the lots, 
Which man is forced to draw. 

Cleo. I could tear out these eyes, that 'gained 
his heart, 
And had not power to keep it Oh, the curse 
Of dotting on, even when I find it dotage ! 
Bear witness, gods ! you heard him bid me go ; 
You, whom he mocked, with imprecating vows, 
Of promised faith— I'll die, I will not bear it 
You may hold me— 

[She pulls out her dagger, and they hold her. 
But I can keep my breath; I can die inward, 
And choke thus love. 



Enter Alexas. 



Irak Help, oh, Alexas, help 1 
The queen grows desperate, her soul struggles in 

her, 
With all the agonies of love and rage, 
And strives to force its passage. 

Cleo. Let me go. 
Art thou there, traitor ! — Oh, 
Oh for a little breath to vent my rage ! 
Give, give me way, and let me loose upon him. 

Alex. Yes, I deserve it for my ill timed truth. 
Was it for me to prop 
The .ruins of a falling majesty, 
To place myself beneath the mighty flaw, 
Thus to be crushed and pounded into atoms, 
By its overwhelming weight ? Tis too presuming 
For subjects to preserve that wilful power, 
Which courts its own destruction. 



Drybbn.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



211 



Cleo. I would reason 
More calmly with you. Did you not o'emile 
And force my plain, direct, and open love 
Into these crooked paths of jealousy ? 
Now what's the event ? Octavia is removed, 
But Cleopatra banished. Thou, thou villain, 
Hast pushed my boat to open sea, to prove, 
At my sad cost, if thou canst steer it rack. 
It cannot be ; I am lost too far; I am rained : 
Hence? thou impostor, traitor, monster, devil — 
I can no more : thou and my griefs have sunk 
Me down so low, that I want voice to cane thee. 

Alex. Suppose some ship-wrecked seaman near 
the shore, 
Dropping and faint with climbing up the diflj 
If, from above, some charitable hand 
Foil him to safety, -hazarding himself 
To draw the other's weight, would he look back 
And corse him for his pains t The case is yours ; 
But one step more, and you have gained the 
height. 

Cleo. Sunk, never more to rise. 

Alex. Octavia's gone, and Dolabella banished. 
Believe me, madam, Antony is yours : 
His heart was never lost, but started off 
To jealousy, love's last retreat, and covert, 
Wbere.it lies bid in shades, watchful in silence, 
And listening for the sound, that calls it back. 
Some other, any man, 'tis so advanced, 
May perfect thjs unfinished work, which I 
(Unhappy only to myself) have left 
So easy to his hand. 

Cleo. Look well thou dost, else- 

Alex. Else what your silence threatens — An- 
tony 
Is mounted up the Pharos, from whose turret 
He stands surveying our Egyptian gal lies 
Engaged with Caesar's 'fleet: now death or con- 
quest! 
If the first happen, fate acquits my promise ; 
If we overcome, the conqueror is yours. 

[A distant thout within. 

Char. Have comfort^ madam : did you mark 
that shout ? [Second shout nearer. 

Jras. Hark ! they redouble it 

Alex, lis from ay® P° rt 5 
The loudness shows it near. Good news, kind 
Heavens! 

Cleo, Osiris make fit so ! 

Enter Ser ap ion. 

Ser. Where, where's the queen ? 

Alex. How frightfully die holy coward stares ! 
As if not yet recovered of the assault, 
When all his gods, and what's more dear to him, 
His offerings, were at stake. 

Ser. Oh, horror, horror ! 
Egypt has been ; the latest hour is come. 
The queen of nations from her ancient seat 
Is sunk for ever in the dark abyss : 
Time has unrolled her glories to the last, 
And now closed up the volume. 



Cleo. Be more plain ! 
Say whence thou earnest ! though Fate is m thy 

face, 
Which from thy haggard eyes looks wildly out, 
And threatens ere thou speakest 

Ser. I came from Pharos, 
From viewing (spare me, and imagine it) 
Our land's last hope, your nav y 

Cleo. Vanquished? 

Ser. No; 
They fought not 

Cleo. Then they fled. 

Ser. Nor that : I saw, 
With Antony, your well-appointed fleet 
Row out, and thrice he waved his hand on high, 
And thrice, with cheerful cries, they shouted back : 
Twas then false Fortune, like a fawning strumpet, 
About to leave the bankrupt prodigal, 
With a dissembled smile would kiss at parting, 
And flatter to the last : the well-timed oars 
Now dipped from every bark, now smoothly run 
To meet the foe; and soon indeed they met, 
But not as foes. In few, we saw their caps 
On either side thrown up : the Egyptian gallies, 
Received like friends, past through, and fell be- 
hind 
The Roman rear; and now they all come forward, 
And ride within the port 

Cleo. Enough, Serapion; 
I have heard my doom. This needed not, you 

gods! 
When I lost Antony, your work was done. 
lis but superfluous malice. Where's my lord ? 
How bears he this last blow? 

Ser. His fury cannot be expressed by words : 
Thrice he attempted headlong to have fallen 
Full on nis foes, and aimed at Cesar's galley : 
Withheld, he raves on you, cries he's betrayed. 
Should he now find you 

Alex. Shun him, seek your safety, 
Till you can dear your innocence. 

Cleo. HI stay. 

Alex. You must not; haste you to the monu- 
ment, 
While I make speed to Caesar. 

Cleo. Cesar: no; 
I have no business with him. 

Alex, I can work him 
To spare your life, and let this madman perish. 

Cleo. Base fawning wretch ! wouldst thou be* 
tray him too f 
Hence from my sight! I will not hear a traitor : 
Twas thy design brought all this ruin on us. 
Serapion, thou art honest; counsel me : 
But haste, each moment's precious. 

Ser. Retire ; you must not see Antony. 
He, who began this mischief, 
Tis just he tempt the danger: let him clear you; 
And since he offered you his servile tongue 
To gain a poor precarious life from Cesar, 

I Let him expose that fawning eloquence, 
And speak to Antony. • 



218 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[DftYBfiH* 



Alex. Oh heavens ! I dare net ; 
I meet my certain death. 

Cleo. Slave, thou deservest it 
Not that I fear my lord will I avoid hint ; 
I know him noble : when be banished me, 
And thought me false, he scorned to take my life : 
But I'll be justified, and then die with him, 

Alex. On ! pity rae, and let me follow yott ! 

Cleo. To death, if thou stir hence. Speak, if 

thou canst, 

Now for thy life, which basely thou wouldst save, 

While mine I prize at this.. Come, good Seropien. 

[Exeunt Cleo. tier. Chmr. *nd Ims. 

Alex. Oh, that 1 less could fear to lose this 
beia& 
Which, like a snow-ball in my coward head, 
The more 'tis grasped the faster neks away. 
Poor reason ! what a, wretched aid art thou ! 
For still, in spite ef thee, 
These two long lovers, soul and body, dread 
Their final separation. Let me think ; 
What can 1 say to save myself from death ? 
No matter what becomes of Cleopatra. 

Ant. Which way ? where? [With*. 

Vent. This leads to the monument [Wtikin. 

Alex. Ah me ! I hear him : yet I'm unprepared : 
My gift of lying's gone ; 

And this court-devil, which I so oft have raised, 
Forsakes me at my need. I dare not stay, 
Yet cannot go far hence. [Exit. 

Enter Antony and Ventidius. 

Ant. Oh, happy Closer ! thou hast men to lead: 
Think not 'tis thou hast conquered Antony, 
But Rome has conquered Egypt I'm betrayed. 

Vent. Curse on this treacherous train i 
Their soil and heaven infect them all with base- 
ness, 
And their young souls come tainted to the world, 
With the first breath they draw. 

Ant. The original villain sure no god created ; 
He was a bastard Tjf the Sun by Nile; 
Aped into man with all his mother's mud 
Crusted about his soul. 

Vent. The nation is 
One universal traitor, and their queen 
The very spirit and extract of them alL 

Ant. Is there yet left 
A possibility of aid and valour? 
Is there one god unsworn to my destruction, 
The least unmortgaged hope ? for, if there be, 
Methinks I cannot rail beneath the fate 
Of such a boy as Cesar. 
The world's one half is yet in Antony, 
And from each limb ef it, that's bewxl *way 9 
The soul comes back to me. 

Vent. There yet remain 
Three legions in the town; the last assault 
Lopt off the rest If death be your design, 
As I must wish it now, these are sufficient 
To make a heap about us of dead foes, 
An honest pile for burial. 



Ant. They're enough. 
Well not divide our stars, tmt sjsfe by side 
Fight emulous, and with ntahcious eyes 
Survey each ether's acts: so every death 
Thou gi vest, m take on me as a jest debt. 
And pay thee back a soul. 

Vent. Now you shall see I Jove yon. Not a 

word 
Of chibW more« By my few hoars of life* 
I ass so pleased with this brave Roman fate, 
That I wensd not be Cfesar to outlive you J 
When we put off this flesh, and mount together, 
I shall be shewn to oil the ethereal crowd, 
( Lo ! this is he, who died with Antony V 
Ant. Who knows but wo may pierce duoog)i 

all their troops, 
And reach my veterans yet? Tib worth the 

tempting 
To o'erleap this golf of fate, 
And leave oar wandering destinies behind. 



Enter Alexas, trembling. 

Vent. See, see that villain ! 
See Cleopatra stamped upon that face, 
With all ner conning, all her arts of falsehood 1 
How she looks out through those dissemblian; 

eyes! 
How he has set his countenance for 
And promises a lie before he sneaks ! 
Let me dispatch him first [Dn 

Alex. Oh, spare me, spare me ! 

Ant. Hold ; he's not worth your killing. On 
thy life, 
(Which thou snayest keen, because I scorn to 

take it) 
No syllable to justify thy oneeo ; 
Save thy base tongue its once. 

Alex. Sir, she's gone 
Where she shall never be molested more, 
By love or you. 

Ant FledtoherDolabella! 
Die, traitor ! I revoke my promise ; die ! 

[Going to kill Aim. 

Alex. Oh, bold; she is not led. 

Ant. She is ; my eyes 
Are open to her falsehood. My whole life 
Has been a golden dream of love and 
But now I wake, I'm like a merchant roused 
From soft repose, to see hb vessel sinking 
And all his wealth cast o'er. Ungrateful woman ! 
Who followed me but as the swallow summer, 
Hatching her young ones in my kindly teams, 
?*ngwg nor flatteries to my inernmg wake ; 
But now my winter comes, she spreads her wings, 
And seeks the spring of Cesar* 

Alex. Think not so; 
Her fortunes have in all things raked wish yours : 
Had she betrayed her naval force to Rosso, 
How easily might she have gone to Cesar ; 
Secure by such a bribe ? 

Vent. She sent it first, 
To be more welcome after. 



DftYMN.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



213 



Ant. lis too plain, 
Else would she have appeared to dear herself. 

Ales. Toe family she has; the conM not bear 
To be accused by you, but shut herself 
Within her monument, looked down and sighed, 
While from her unchanged race Che silent tears 
Dropt, as they had net leave, hut took their part- 
ing. 
Some undistinguished words the inly murmured ; 
At last she raised her eyes, and with each looks 
As dying Lucreoe cast^— 

Ant. My heart forebod e s 

Vtmt. All for the heat. Go an. 

Ales. She snatrtwd her poniard, 
And, ere we could prevent the fatal blow, 
Plunged it within her breast; then turned to me; 
* Go, bear my lord,' said she, * my last farewell, 
And ask him if he yet aaspeot my faith.' 
More she was sayiaa> hat death rushed betwixt 
She v half pr on ou n o o d yam* aami with her last 

breath, 
And varied half wttata her* 

Vent. Heaven be praised ! 

Ant. Then art thoa esnaoent, my poor dear 
love! 
And art thou dead? 

Oh, those two words ! their sound should be di- 
vided. 
Hadst thou been false «ed died, or hadst thou 

lived 
And hadst been true — Bat innocence and death! 
This shows not well above. Then what am I? 
The murderer of this truth, this innocence ! 
Thoughts cannot form themselves in wards so 

horrid 
As can express my guilt ! 

Vent. Is it come to this? The gods have been 
too gracious, 
And dins you thank them for it 

Ant. [To Ale*.] Why stay"* thou here ? 
Is it tor thee to tpy upon my soul, 
And see its inward mounting ? Get thee hence ! 
Thon art not worthy to behold what naw 
Becomes a Reman emperor to perform. 

Ales. Be loves her still; [Aside. 

His grief betrays it Good! the joy to find 
She's yet alive completes the KMoncwement ; 
I have saved myself and her. Sutoh! the Re- 




Fete cotnas too fast upon my wit, 
Hunts me toe ward, and meets me at each double. 

[Exit. 
Vent. Would she had died a little sooner 



Before Octsaia went; you might have mooted; 
Now 'twill look tame, and weald not be received. 
Game, <raaae yearscuv and let's die warm to- 
gether. 
•Ant. I wiU not •igjht ; there's no more work for 






The business of my •angry hours is dose. 
Vent. Cesar is at your gate. 



Ant. Why, let him enter : 
He's welcome now. 

Vent. What lethargy has crept into your soul? / 

Ant. lis but a scorn of life, and just desire 
To free myself from bondage. 

Vent* Do it bravely. 

Ant. I will, but not by fighting. Oh, Venti- 
dius, 
What should I fight tor now ? my queen is dead : 
1 was but great for her : my power, my empire, 
Were but my merchandise to buy her love, 
And conquered kings my factors. Now she's 

dead, 
Let Cesar take the world— 
An. empty circle, since the jewel's gone, 
Which made it worth my strife : my being's nau- 
seous, 
For all the bribes of life are none away. 

Vent. Would you be taken ? 

Ant. Yes, I would be taken ; 
But as a Roman ought; dead, my Ventidius — 
For 111 convey my soul from Caesar's reach, 
And lay down life myself. Tis time the world 
Should have a lord, and know, whom to obey. 
We two have kept its homage in suspense, 
And bent the globe, on whose each side we trod, 
Till it was dinted inwards. Let him walk 
Alone upon it : I'm weary of my part. 
My torch is out, and the world stands before me, 
like a black desert at the approach of night : 
I'll lay me down and stray no farther on. 
. Vent. I -could be grieved, 
But that I'll not outlive you. Chase your death, 
For I have seen him in such various shapes, 
I care not which I take : I'm only troubled 
The life I bear is worn to such a rag, 
Tis eoaroe worth giving. I could wish indeed 
We threw it from us with a better grace, 
That, like two lions taken m die tons, 
We might at least thrust outour paws, and wound 
The hunters, that enclose us. 

Ant. I have thought on it ; 
Venririiitj, you must live. 

Vent. I must not, sir. 

Amt* Wilt thou not Ike to speak some good 
of me ? 
To stand by my fair fame, andV guard the ap- 
proaches 
From the ill tongues of men ? 

VenU Who snail guard mine 
For living after you ? 
.< AM. Say, I command it 

Vent. If we die well, ear deaths will speak 
themselves, 
And need no living witness. 

Ant. Thou hast loved me, 
And fain I would reward thee. I most die ; 
Kill me, and take the merit of my death. 
To make thee friends with Cesar. 

Vent. Thank vour kindness ! 
You said I loved you, and in recompense 
You bid me turn a traitor ! Did I think 



214 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



Drydeh.] 



You would have used me thus ! that I should 

die 
With a hard thought of you ! 

Ant. Forgive me, Roman. 
Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death. 
My reason hears no rule upon my tongue. 
But lets my thoughts break all at random out 
I have thought better ; do not deny me twice. 

Vent. By heaven I will not ! 
Let it not be to outlive you. 

Ant. Kill me first, 
And then die thou ; for 'tis but just thou serve 
Thy friend before thyself. 

Vent, Give me your hand — 
We soon shall meet again. Now, farewell, em- 
peror ! [Embrace. 
Methinks that word's too cold to be my last : 
Since death sweeps all distinctions! farewell, 
friend ! 

That's all 

I will not make a business of a trifle— 
And yet I cannot look on you and kill you : 
Pray turn your face. 

Ant. I do : strike home ; be sure. 

Vent. Home as my sword will reach. 

[Kills himself. 

Ant. Oh, thou mistakest ! 
That wound was none of thine ; give it me back : 
Thou robbest me of my death. 

Vent. I do indeed ; 
But think, 'tis the first time I eVr deceived yon, 
If that may plead my pardon. And you, sods ! 
Forgive me, if you wilt ; for I die perjured. 
Rawer than kill my friend. [Dies. 

Ant. Farewell f ever my leader, even in 
death! 
My queen and thou have got the start of me, 
And I'm the lag of honour. — Gone so soon ! 
Is death no more ! He used him carelessly, 
With a familiar kindness ; ere he knocked, 
Ran to the door, and took him in his arms, 
As who should say, you're welcome at all hours, 
A friend need give no warning — Books had spoil- 
ed him. 
For all the learned are cowards by profession. 
Tis not worth 

My further thought ; for death, for aught I know, 
Is but to think no more. Here's to be satisfied. 

[Falls on kit sword. 
I have missed my heart — Oh, unperforming 

hand! 
Thou never couldst have erred in a worse time. 
Mv fortune jades me to the last; and death, 
like a great man, takes state, and makes me wait 
For my admittance — [Trampling within. 

Some, perhaps, from Caesar ! 
If he should find me living, and suspect, 
That I played booty with my life ! rll mend 
My won ere they can reach me. 

[Rises upon his knees. 

Enter Cleopatra, Charhhon, and Iras, 
Cleo. Where is my lord ? where is he ? 



Char. There he lies, 
And dead Ventidius by him. 

Cleo. My fears were prophets! I am come too 
late! 
Oh, that accursed Alexas ! [Runs to him. 

Ant. Art thou living ? 
Or am I dead before I knew, and thou 
The first kind ghost, that meets me ? 

Cleo. Help me seat htm ! 
Send quickly, send for help ! 

[They place him in a chair. 

Ant. I am answered : 
We live both. Sit thee down, my Cleopatra ! 
m make the most I can of life, to stay 
A moment more with thee. 

Cleo. How is it with you ? 

Ant. Tis, as with a man 
Removing in a hurry ; all packed up 
But one dear jewel, that his haste forgot, 
And he for that returns upon the spur ; 
So I come back for thee. 

Cleo. Too long, ye heavens ! you have beem 
cruel to me 1 
Oh, now be kind, and give me back 
His fleeting life ! 

Ant. It will not be, my love ! 
I keep my soul by force. 
Say but thou art not false \ 

Cleo. Tis now too late 
To say I'm true ; I'll prove it and die with you. 
Unknown to me Alexas feigned my death, 
Which, when I knew, I hasted to prevent 
This fatal consequence. My fleet betrayed 
Both you and me. 

Ant. And Dolabella— 

Cleo. Scarce esteemed before he loved, but 
hated now. 

Ant. Enough ! my life's not long enough for 
more. 
Thou say'st, thou wilt come after : I believe thee ; 
For I can now believe whate'er thou say'st, 
That we may part more kindly. 

Cleo. I will come ; 
Doubt not, my life ! T\\ come, and quickly too I 
Caesar shall triumph o'er no part of thee. 

Ant. But grieve not, while thou stayest, 
My last disastrous times ! 
Think we have had a clear and glorious day, 
And heaven did kindly to delaythe storm, 
Just till our close of evening. Ten years love, 
And not a moment lost, but all improved 
To the utmost joys ! What ages have we hve$ ! 
And now to die each other's f and so dying, 
While hand in hand we walk in groves oelow, 
Whole troops of lovers* ghosts shall flock about us, 
And all the train be ours. 

Cleo. Your words are like the notes of dying 
swans, 
Too sweet to last. Were there so many hours 
For your unkindness, and not one for love ! 

Ant. No, not a minute— this one kiss— more 
worth 
Than all I leave to Cesar.-* [Diet. 



Deydbn.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



215 



Cleo. Ob, tell me so again! 
And take ten thousand kisses for that word— 
My lord I my lord ! speak/ if you yet have 

being! 
Sign to me if you cannot speak ! or cast 
One look ! do any tiling, that shows you live ! 

Iras. He is gone too far to hear you, 
And this, you see, a lump of senseless, clay, 
The leaving* of a soul. 

Char. Remember, madam, 
He charged you not to grieve. 

Cleo. And 111 obey turn. 
I have not loved a Roman not to knov/ 
What should become his wife— his wife, my 

Charmion! 
For *tis to that high title I aspire ; 
And now Fll not die less. Let dull Octavia 
Survive, to mourn him dead : my noble fate 
Shall knit our spousals with a tie, too strong 
For Roman laws to break. 

Iras. Will you then die ? 

Cleo. Why shouldst thou make that question ? 
Fly both, and bring the cure of all our ills. 

Iras. Csesar is merciful— 

Cleo. Let him be so 
To those, that want his mercy : My poor lord 
Made no such covenant with him to spare me, 
When he was dead. Yield me to Caesar's pride ! 
What ! to be led in triumph through the streets, 
A spectacle to base plebeian eyes, 
While some dejected friend of Antony's, 
Close in a corner, shakes his head, and mutters 
A secret curse on her, who ruined him ! 
Ill none of that 

Char. Whatever you resolve, 
Fll follow, even to death. 

Iras. I only feared 
For you, but more should fear to live without 
you. 

Cleo. Why, now ,'tis as it should be. Quick, 
my friends, 
Dispatch ! ere this the town's in Caesar's hands : 
My lord looks down concerned, and fears my 

stay, 
Lest I should be surprised : 
Keep him not v* siting for his love too long. 
You, Charmion, bring my crown and richest 

jewels; 
With them the wreath of victory I made 
(Vain augury !) for him, who now lies dead : 
Yon, Iras, bring die cure of all our ills. 

Iras. The aspicks, madam ? 

Cleo. Must Ibid you twice ? 

[Ex. Char, and tras. 
Tis sweet to die, when they would force life on 

me, 
To rash into the dark abode of death 
And seise him first ! If he be like my love, 
He is not frightful sure ! 
We are now alone, in secrecy and silence, 
And is not this like lovers ? I may kiss 
These pale cold lips — Octavia does not see me ; 

1 



And,- oh ! 'tis better far to have him thus, 
Than see him in her arms ! — O welcome, wel- 
come! 

Enter Charmion and Teas, with the aspicks, %c 

Char. What must be done ? 

Cleo. Short ceremony, friends ; 
But yet it must be decent First, this laurel 
Shall crown my hero's head : he fell not basely, 
Nor left bis shield behind him. Only thou 
Couldst triumph o'er thyself, and thou alone 
Wert worthy so to triumph. 

Char. To what end 
These ensigns of your pomp and royalty ? 

Cleo. Dull, that thou art ! why, 'tis to meet 
my love, 
As when I saw him first on Cydno's bank, 
All sparkling like a goddess ; so adorned, 
111 find him once again ; my second spousals 
Shall match my first nvglory. Haste, haste, both, 
And dress the bride of Antony ! 

Char. Tis done. 

Cleo. Now set me by my lord ; I claim this 
place, 
For I must conquer Csesar, too, like him, 
And win my share of the world. Hail, you dear 

reikis 
Of my immortal love ! 
Oh, let no impious hand remove you hence, 
But rest for ever here ! let Egypt give 
His death that peace, which it denied his life ! 
Reach me the casket 

Iras. Underneath the fruit the aspick lies. 

Cleo. Welcome, thou kind deceiver ! 

[Putting aside the leaves. 
Thou best of thieves ! who with an easy key 
Dost open life, and, unperceived by us, 
Even steals us from ourselves, discharging so 
Death's dreadful office better than himself, 
Touching our limbs so gently into slumber, 
That Death stands by, deceived by his own image, 
And thinks himself but sleep. 

Ser. The queen, where is she? [Within. 

The town is yielded, Caesar's at the gates. 

Cleo. He comes too late to invade the rights 
of death. 
Haste, haste, my friend, and rouse the serpent's 
fury. 
[Holds out her arm, and draws it back. 

Coward flesh 

Wouldst thou conspire with Caesar to betray me, 
As thou wert none of mine? I'll force thee to it, 
And not be sent by him, 
And bring myself, my soul, to Antony. 

[Turns aside, and then shows her arm bloody. 
Take hence : the work is done ! 

Ser. Break ope the door, [Within. 

And guard the traitor well. 

Char. The next is ours. 

Iras. Now, Charmion, to be worthy 
Of our great queen and mistress. 

[They apply the aspicks. 



£16 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



C to/ Already, death, I feel thee ia my 



Igo with such a will to find my lord, 

That we shall quickly meet 

A heavy numbness creeps through every limb, 

And now 'tis at my head : my eyelids fall, 

And my dear love is vanished in a mist ! 

Where shall I find him, where ? oh ! turn me to 

him, 
And lay me on his breast J— -Cesser, thy worst ! 
Now part us if thou canst [Diet. 

[Ira* sinks down at her feet and diet, Charmion 
standi behind her chair as dressing her head. 

Enter Sbrapion, two Priests, Alexas, bound, 

and Egyptians, 

3 Priest. Behold, Serapkn, what havoc death 

has made! 
Ser. Twas what I feared. 
Charmion, is this well done? 



[Dints*. 



Hke 



Char. Yes, 'tis well dona, and 
/ the last 
Of her great race. I UMom met. [Sinks down. Dim. 

Alex. Tis true, 
She has done well : much hatter thus to die, 
Than live to make a holiday in Rome. 

Ser. See how the lovers ue in stale together, 
As they were giving laws to half mankind ! 
The impression of a smile, left in her face, 
Shows she died pleased with him, for whom she 

lived, 
And went to charm him in another world. 
Cesar's iost entering; grief has now no l e is ure. 
Secure mat villain, as our p l e dge of safety, 
To grace the imperial triumph. Sleep, blest 

pair! 
Secure from human chanoe, long ages out, 
While all the storms of fate iy o'er your tomb: 
And fame to late posterity shall tell, 
No lovers lived so great, or died so well. 

[Exeunt manes. 



THE 



ORPHAN; 



OR 



THE UNHAPPY MARRIAGE. 



BY 



OTWAT. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 



MEN. 

Acasto, a nobleman retired from the court, and 
living privately in the country. 

Chamont, a young soldier of fortune, brother to 

Monimia. 
Ernesto. 
Paoxiko. 



Page. 

Chaplain* 

Servant. 

WOMEN. 

Monimia, the Orphan, left under the guardian- 
ship of old Acasto. 
Serin a, Acasto 9 t daughter. 
Florella, Monimia s woman. 



Scene — Bohemia. 



i-* 



ACT L 



SCENE I. 

Enter Paulino and Ernesto. 



PauL Tis strange, Ernesto, this severity 
Should still reign powerful in Acasto's mind, 
To hate the court, where he was bred and lived, 
All honours heaped on him, that power could 
give. 
Era. Tis true, he hither came a private gen- 
tleman, 
But jroong and brave, and of a family 
Ancient and noble, as the empire holds. 
The honours he has gained are justly bis ; 
He purchased them in war : thrice has he led 
An army 'gainst the rebels, ana 1 as often 
Returned with victory. The world has not 
A truer soldier, or a better subject. 

V«L. J. 



Paul It was his virtue fit first made me serve 
him; 
He is the best of masters and of friends : 
I know he has lately been invited thither, 
Yet still he keeps lus stubborn purpose ; cries 
He is old, and willingly would be at rest, 
I doubt there's deep resentment in his mind, 
For the late slight his honour suffered there. 

Em. Has he not reason? When, for what he 
had borne, 
Long, hard, and painful toil, he might have claimed 
Places in honour, and employment high ; 
A huffing, shining, flattering, cringing coward, 
A canker-worm of peace, was raised above him. 

PauL Yet still he holds just value for the king, 
Nor ever names him but with highest reverence. 
Tis noble that. 

Y 



£18 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Otwat. 



Ern. Oh! I have heard him wanton in his 

praise, 
Speak tilings of him might charm the ears of en- 
vy. 
Paul. Oh, may he live, till Natures self grows 

old, 
And from her womb no more can bless the earth ! 
For, when he dies, farewell all honour, bounty, 
All generous encouragement of arts ; 
For Charity herself becomes a widow. 

Ern. No ; he has two sons, that were ordained 

to be 
As well his virtues' as his fortune's heirs. 

Paul. They're both of nature .mild, and full of 

sweetness ; 
They came twins from the womb, and still they 

live, 
As if they would go twins, too, to the grave i 
Neither has any thing he calls his own, 
But of each other's joys, as griefs, partaking ; 
So very honestly, so well they love, 
As they were only for each other born. 

Ern. Never was parent in an offspring hap- 
pier; 
He has a daughter too, whose blooming age - 
promises goodness equal to her beauty. 

Paul. And as there is a friendship 'twixt the 

brethren, 
So has her infant nature chosen too 
A faithful partner of her thoughts and wishes, 
And kind companion of her harmless pleasures. 
Ern. You mean the beauteous orphan, fair 

Monimia. 
Paul. The same, the daughter of the brave 

Chamont ; 
He was our lord's companion in the wars ; 
Where such a wondrous friendship grew between 

them, 
As only death could end. Chamont's estate 
Was ruined in our late and civil discords ; 
Therefore, unable to advance her fortune, 
He left his daughter to our master's care ; 
Tq such a care, as she scarce lost her father. 
Ern. Her brother to the emperor's wars went 

early, 
To seek a fortune, or a noble fate-; - 
Whence he, with honour, is expected back, 
And mighty marks of that great prince's favour. 
PauL Otar master never wouto 'permit his sons 
To launch for fortune m the uncertain world ; 
But warns them to avoid both courts and camps, 
Where dilatory 'Fortune plays the jilt 
With the brave, noble, honest* gallant man, 
Tb throw herself away on fools and knaves. 
Ern, They both have forward, generous, ac- 

"tive spirits. 
*Tis daily therrpefition to their father,  
To send them forth where glory's to be gotten* ; 
They dry, they're weary of their lazy home, ' 
Restless to do something, that fame may talk of. 
To-day they chased the boar, and pear this time 
Should be returned. 



 t 



PauL Oh, thatfa a royal sport! 
We yet may see the old man in a morning, 
Lusty as health, come ruddy to the field, 
And there pursue die chase, as if he meant 
To o'ertake time, and bring back youth again. 

Exeunt, 
SCENE II.— A Garden. 

Enter Castalio, Polydobe, and Page. 

Cast. Polydore, our sport 
Has been to-day much better for the danger ; 
When, on the brink, the foaming boar I met, 
And in his side thought to have lodged my spear, 
The desperate savage rushed within my force, 
And bore me headlong with him down the rock. 

Pol. But then 

Cast. Ay, then, my brother, my friend, Poly- 
dore, 
Like Perseus mounted on his winged steed, 
Came on, and down the dangerous precipice leap'd, 
To save Castalio. Twas a godlike act ! 

-PoL But, when I came, I round you conqueror. 
Oh, my heart danced to see your danger past ! 
The heat and fury of the chase was cold, 
And I had nothing in my mind but joy. 

Cast. So, Polydore, methinks, we might in war 
Rush on together ; thou shouldst be my guard, 
And I be thine ; what is it could hurt us then ? . 
Now half the youth of Europe are in arms* 
How fulsome must it be to stay behind. 
And die of rank diseases here at home ? 

PoL No ! let me purchase in my youth re- 
nown, 
To make me loved and valued, when I am old ; 
I would be busy in the world, and learn. 
Not like a coarse and useless dunghill weed, 
Fixed to one spot, and rot just as I grow, 

Cast. Our father 
Has taken himself a surfeit of the world, 
And cries, ' It is not safe that we should taste it : 9 
I own J have duty very powerful in me ; 
And though IM hazard all to raise my name, 
Yet he's so tender, and so good a father, 
I could not do a thing to cross his will. 

PoL Castalio, I have doubts within my heart, 
Which you, and only yon, can satisfy. 
Will you be free and candid to ,your friend ? 

Cast. Have I a thought my Polydore should 
not know? 
What can tins mean ? • 

PoL Nay, 111 conjure you 'too, 
By all the strictest bonds of faithful friendship, 
To shew your heart as naked in this point, 
As Vou would purge you of your sins to heaven. 

Cast I will. 

PoL And should I chance to touch it nearly, 
bear-it 
, With all the sufferance of a tender friend. 

Cast. As calmly as the wounded patient! bears; 
The artist's hand, that ministers his core. 

PoL That's kindly said. You kttow our rV 
tiler's ward, 



Otway.] 



BREElSii DRAMA. 



419 



The fair MooimuL Is your heart at peace? 
Is it so guarded, that you could not love her ? 

Cast. Suppose I should ? 

PoL Suppose you should .not, brother? 

Cast. You'd say, I muat.not. 

Pak That would sound too. roughly 
Twixt friend* andihrotheiay as we two are* 

Cast. Is low a fimlti: 

PoL In one of us it may be. 
What if I love her? 

Cast. Then I must inform you. 
I loved her first, and cannot quit the claim, 
But will preserve thebirth-right of my. passion. 

PoL You will-?. 

Cast. I wilL. 
 PoL No more, Fve done. 

Cast. Why not?* 

PoL I told you I had done : 
But you, Castalio, would dispute it 

Cast. No? ' 

Not with my Polydore ; though I must own 
My nature obstinate, and void of sufferance : 
Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart, ' 
Attended, on his throne by all his guards 
Of furious wishes, fears* and nice suspicions. 
I could not bear a rival in my friendship, 
I am so much in love, and fond of thee. .. 

PoL Yet you will break this friendship. 

Cast. Not for crowds. 

PoL Bat for, a toy you. would, a woman's toy; 
Unjust Castalio ! 

Cast. Prithee, where's my mult? 

PoL You love Mommia* 

Cast. Yes. 

PoL And you would kill me, 
If I'm your rival 

Cast. No ; sure we are such friends, 
So much one man, that our affections, too, 
Must be united, and the same as we are. • 

PoL I doat upon Mommia. 

Cast. Love her still ; 
Win and enjoy her. 

PoL Both of us cannot 

Cast. No matter 
Whose chaace it prove; but let's not quarrel 
for i(. 

PoL You would not wed Monimia, would you? 

Cosf. Wed her! 
No; were she all desire could wish, as fair 
As would the vainest of her sex be thought, 
With wealth beyond what woman's pride could 



She should not cheat me of my freedom. Marry ! 

When I am old, and weary of the world, 

I may grow desperate, 

And take a wife to mortify withal.' 

PoL It is an elder brother's doty so 
To propagate his family and name : 
You would not have yours die and buried with 
you?* - 

Cast. Mere vanity, and silly dotage all. 
No, let me lice at large, and when f di< 



PoL Who shall possess the- estate you leave? 

Cast. My friend, 
If he survives infer ; * if. not, ttry &mg, 
Who may bestow it again 'Otisoufe brave man, 
Whose honesty and services deserve ofle. 

Pok Tie kindly offered. 

Cast. By yott heaven, I hove 
My (Polydore beyond ajl worldly joys ; 
And would' not, shock fcfequie^ id be blest 
With greater- happiness tfon* muii e'er tasted; 

PoL And e? that heaven, 'eteftiaUy I swear, 
To keep the fcmd. Cattalio in my heart, ' 
Whose shall Monimia be ? ' " M - ' 

' Catt* No matter whose. 

Pet Were you not with her privately last 
night? * ' •' '•' ' 

Cast, r Was, and should have met her here 

again;' ■' •* •'  •.•»."■ 

But the opportunity shall now be thine J 

Myself will bring thee to' the *cehe df love : 

But have a care, by friendship I conjure thee, 

That no false play be offered to thy brother. 

Urge all thy powers to make thy fmssion pros- 
per. .- » 

But wrong not mine. 

PoL Heaven blast me, if I do. 

Cast. If it prove thy fortune, Polydore, to 
conquer, 
(For thou hast all the arts of soft persuasion) 
Trust me, and let me know thy love's success. 
That I may ever after stifle mine. 

PoL Though she be dearer to my soul than 
rest " 
To weary pilgrims, or to misers gold, 
To great men power, or wealthy cities pride, 
Rather than wr&ng Castalio, I'd forget her. 

For if y6, powers, have happiness in store, 

When ye would shower down joys on Poly- 
dore, ' ' 

In one great blessing all your bounty send, 

That I may never lose so dear a friend. 

"* ■'■ ^Exeknt CqstaHo and Polydore. 

« • 

Enter Moif imia. 

Mon. So soon returned from hunting? This 
fair day 
Seems as if sent to invite the world abroad. 
Passed not Castalio and Polydore mis way? 
. Page. Madam, just now. • ' 

Mon. Sure some ill fate's upon me. 
Distrust and heaviness sit round my heart, 
And apprehension shocks my timorous soul. 
Why was not I laid in my peaceful grave 
With my poor parents, and at rest as they are ? 
Instead of that, I'm wandering into cares. 
Castalio ! Oh, Castalio ! thou hast caught 
My foolish heart; and, like a tender child, 
That trusts his play-thing to another hand, 
I fear its harm, and fain would have it back. 
Come near, Cordelio. I must chide you, sir. 

Page. Why, madam, have I done you any 
wrong? ■•«.■■ 



S20 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Otway. 



Mon. I never see you now ; you have been 
kinder. 
Sat by my bed, and sung me pretty songs ; 
Perhaps I've been ungrateful. Here's money for 

you: 
Will you oblige me ? Shall I see you oftener ? 

Page. Madam, I'd serve you with my soul : 
But in the morning when you call me to you. 
As by your bed I stand, and tell you stones, 
I am ashamed to see your swelling breasts, 
It makes me blush, they are so very white. 

Mon. Oh, men ! for flattery and deceit re- 
nowned ! 
Thus, when ye are young, ye learn it all, like him, 
Till as your years increase, that strengthens too, 
To undo poor maids, and make our ruin easy. 
Tell me, Cordelio, for thou oft hast heard 
Their friendly converse, and their bosom secrets; 
Sometimes, at least, have they not talked of me? 

Page. Oh, madam, very wickedly they have 
talked! 
But I am afraid to name it; for, they say, 
Boys must be whipped, that tell their masters' se- 
crets.' 

Mon. Fear not, Cordelio; it shall ne'er be 
known; 
For I'll preserve the secret as Were mine. 
Polydore cannot be so kind as I. 
HI furnish thee with all thy harmless sports, 
With pretty toys, and thou shalt be my page. 

Page. And truly, madam, I had rather be so. 
Methinks you love me better than my lord; 
For he was never half so kind as you are. 
What must I do? 

Alon. Inform me how thou hast heard 
Castalio, and his brother, use my name. 

Page. With all the tenderness of love ; 
You were the subject of their last discpurse. 
At first I thought it would have fatal proved ; 
But as the one grew hot, the other cooled, 
And yielded to the frailty of his friend ; 
At last, after much struggling, 'twas resolved— 

Mon. What, good Cordelio ? 

Page. Not to quarrel for you* 

Mon. I would not have them; by my deafest 
hope, 
I would not be the argument of strife. 
But surely my Castalio wont forsake me, 
And make a mockery of my easy love. 
Went they together? 

Page. Yes, to seek you, madam. 
Castalio promised Polydore to bring him 
Where he alone might meet you, 
And fairly try the fortune of his wishes. 

Mon. Am I then grown so cheap, just to be 
made 
A common stake, a prize for love in jest ? 
Was not Castalio very loth to yield it ? 
Or was it Polydorc's unruly passion, 
That heightened the debate ? 

Pace. The fault was Polydore's. 
Castalio played with love, and smiling shewed 



The pleasure, not the pangs of his desire. 
He said, no woman's smiles should boy his free- 
dom; 
And marriage is a mortifying thing. 

Mon. Then I am ruined ! If Castalio's false, 
Where is there faith and honour to be found? 
Ye gods, that guard the innocent, and guide 
The weak, protect, and take me to your care. 
Oh, but I love him! There's the rock will wreck 

me ! 
Why was I made with all my sex's softness, 
Yet want the cunning to conceal its follies? 
I'll see Castalio, tax him with his falsehoods, 
Be a true woman, rail, protest my wrongs ; 
Resolve to hate him, and yet love him still 

Enter Castalio and Polydore. 

He comes, the conqueror comes ! lie still, my 

heart, 
And learn to bear thy injuries with scorn. 
Catt. Madam, my brother begs he may have 
leave 
To tell you something, that concerns you nearly. 
I leave you, as becomes me, and withdraw. 
Mon. My lord, Castalio ! 
Cast. Madam? 
Mon. Have you purposed 
To abuse me palpably ? What means this usage? 
Why am I left with Polydore alone ? 
Cast. He best can tell you. Business of im- 
portance 
Calls me away ; I must attend my father. 
Mon. Will you then leave me thus ? 
Cast. But for a moment. 
Mon. It has been otherwise; the time has 
been,/ 
When business might have staid, and-I been 
heard. 
Cast. I could for ever hear thee ; but this time 
Matters of such odd circumstances press me, 
That I must go— [Exit. 

Mon. Then go, and, if it be possible, forever. 
Well, my lord Polydore, I guess your business, 
And read the ill-natured purpose in your eyes. 

PoL If to desire you more than misers wealth, 
Or dying men an hour of added life.; 
If softest wishes, and a heart more true 
Than ever suffered yet for love disdained, 
Speak an ill nature, you accuse me justly. 
Mon. Talk not of love, my lord! I must not 

hear it. 
PoL Who can behold such beauty and be si- 
lent? 
Desire first taught us words. Man, when crea- 
ted, 
At first alone long wandered up and down, 
Forlorn, and silent as his vassal-beasts; 
But when a heaven-born maid, like you, ap- 
peared, 
Strange pleasures filled lib eyes, and fired his 

heart, 
Unloosed his tongue, and his first talk was love. 



Otway.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



ttei 



Mon. The first created pair indeed were 

DieSSCu y 

They were the only objects of each other, 
Therefore he courted her, and her alone : 
But in this peopled world of beauty, where 
Hiere's roving room, where you may court, and 



nun 



A thousand more* why need you talk to me ? 

PoL Oh ! I could talk to thee for ever. Thus 
Eternally admiring, fix and gaze 
On those dear eyes ; for every glance they send 
Darts through my soul, and almost gives enjoy- 
ment. 
Mom. How can you labour thus for my un- 
doing? 
I must confess, indeed, I owe you more 
Hian ever I can hope or think to pay. 
There always was a friendship 'twixt our families; 
And therefore, when my tender parents died, 
Whose ruined fortunes too expired with them, 
Your father's pity and his bounty took me, 
A poor and helpless orphan, to his care. 
PoL Twas heaven ordained it so, to make me 
happy. 
Hence with this peevish virtue ! 'tis a cheat, 
And those, who taught it first, were hypocrites. 
Come, these soft tender limbs were made for 
yielding. 
Mon. Here on my knees, by Heaven's blest 
power I swear, [Kneels. 

If you persist, I ne'er henceforth will see you, 
But rather wander through the world a beggar, 
And live on sordid scraps at proud men's doors ; 
For though to fortune lost, I'll still inherit 
My mother's virtues, and my father's honour. 

PoL Intolerable vanity ! your sex 
Was never in the right ! ye are always false 
Or silly ; even your dresses arc not more 
Fantastic than your appetites ; you think 
Of nothing twice. Opinion you have none. 
To-day ye are nice, to-morrow none so free ; ' 

 "*■*.' . 
fyvt 

L-< {-. : act 



Now smile, then frown; now sorrowful, then 

glad; 
Now pleased, now not ; and ail you know not 

why! 
Virtue you affect; inconstancy's your practice ; 
And when your loose desires once get dominion, 
No hungry churl feeds coarser at a feast ; 
Every rank fool goes down. 

Mon. Indeed, my lord, 
I own my sex's follies ; I have them all. 
And, to avoid its fault, must fly from you. 
Therefore, believe me, could you raise me high 
As most fantastic woman's wish could reach, 
And lay all nature's riches at my feet ; 
I'd rather run a savage in the woods 
Amongst brute beasts, grow wrinkled and de- 
formed, 
As wildness and most rude neglect could make 

me, 
So I might still enjoy my honour safe 

From the destroying wiles of faithless men*- 

[Exit. 
Pol. Who'd be that sordid foolish thing, called 
man, 
To cringe thus, fawn, and flatter for a pleasure, 
Which beasts enjoy so very much above him ? 
The lusty bull ranges through all the field, 
And from the herd singling his female out, 
Enjoys her, and abandons her at will. 
It shall be so ; I'll yet possess my love ; 
Wait on, and watch her loose unguarded hours ; 
Then, when her roving thoughts have been a- 

broad, 
And brought in wanton wishes to her heart, 
In the very minute, when her virtue nods, 
I'll rush upon her in a storm of love, 
Beat down her guard of honour all before me, 
Surfeit on joys, till even desire grows sick ; 
Then, by long absence, liberty regain, 
And quite forget the pleasure and the pain, 

[Exeunt PoL and Page. 



U. 



SCENE L 

A Saloon.— Enter Acasto, Cast alio, and Po- 
ly do re. 

Acast. To-day has been a day of glorious sport. 
When you, Castalio, and your brother left me, 
Forth from the thickets rushed another boar, 
So large, he seemed the tyrant of the woods, 
With all his dreadful bristles raised up high, 
They seemed a grove of spears upon his back ; 
Foaming, lie came at me, where I was posted, 
Best to observe which way he'd lead the chase, 1 
Whetting his huge large tusks, and gaping wide, 
As if he already had me for his prey ; 
Till brandishing my well-poised javelin high, 
With tins bold executing arm, I struck 
The ugly, brindled monster to the heart 

o 



Cast. The actions of your life were always 
wondrous. 

Acast. No flattery, boy ! an honest man cant 
live by it ; 
It is a little sneaking art, which knaves 
Use to cajole and sotten fools withal. 
If thou hast flattery in thy nature, out with it, 
Or send it to a court, for there 'twill thrive. 

PoL Why there ? 

Acast. Tis, next to money, current there ; 
To be seen daily in as many forms 
As there are sorts of vanities, and men ; 
The supercilious statesman has his sneer, 
To soothe a poor man off with, that cant' bribe 

him; 
The grave dull fellow of small business soothes 
The humourist, and will needs admire his wit. 



2£g 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Otway. 



Who, without spleen, <x>old see a hot-brained 

atheist. 
Thanking a surly doctor for his sermon? 
Or a grave counsellor meet a smooth young 

lord, 
Squeeze him bv the hand, and. praise his good 

complexion ? 
PoL Courts are the places, where best man- 
ners flourish ; 
Where the deserving ought to rise, and fools 
Make shew. Why should I vex and chafe my 

spleen, 
To see a gaudy coxcomb shine, when I 
Have seen enough to soothe him in his follies, 

And ride him to advantage as I please ? 

Acast. Who merit, ought indeed to rise in the 

world ; 
But no wise man, that's honest, should expect it. 
What man of sense wold rack his generous mind, 
To practise all the base formalities 
Ana forms of business ? force a grave starched 

face, 
When he is a very libertine in his heart? 
Seem not to know this or that man in public, 
When privately, perhaps they meet together, 
And lay the scene of some brave fellow's ruin? 
Such things are done. 

Cast. Your lordship's wrongs have, been 
So great, that you with justice may complain ; 
But suffer us, whose younger minds ne'er felt 
Fortune's deceits, to court her as she's fair. 
Were she a common mistress, kind to all, 
Her worth would cease, and half the world grow 

idle. 
Acast. Go to, ye* are fools, and know me not ; 

I've learned, 
Long since, to bear, revenge, or scorn my wrongs, 
According to the value of the doer. 
You both would fain be great, and to that end 
Desire to do things worthy your ambition* 
Go to the camp, preferments noblest mart, 
Where honour ought to have the fairest play, 

you'll find 
Corruption, envy, discontent, and faction, 
Almost in every band. How many men 
Have spent their blood in their dear country's 

service, 
Yet now pine under want, whilst selfish slaves, 
That e'en would cut their throats, whom now 

they fawn on, 
like deadly locusts, eat the honey up, 
Which those industrious bees so hardly toiled for. 
Cast, These precepts suit; not with my active 

mind; 
Methinks I would be busy. 

PoL So would I, 
Not loiter out my life at home, and know 
No farther than one prospect gives me leave. 
Aaut. Busy your minds then, study arts and 



men 



Leam how to value merit, though i 
And scorn a proud iUrmwmeredkn 



knave in office. 



Enter SfiMNA. 

Ser. My lord, my father ! 

Acast. Blessmss on my child, 
My little, cherub T what hast thou to ask me?  

Ser. I bring you, sir, most glad and welcome 
news. 
The young Chamont, whom you have so. often 

wished for, 
Is just arrived and entering. 

Acast* By my soul, 
And all my honours, he is most dearly welcome ; 
Let me receive him like his father's friend. 

Enter Chamont. 

Welcome, thou relict of the best loved man f 
Welcome, from all the turmoils and the hazards 
Of certain danger and uncertain fortune ! 
Welcome, as happy tidings after fears ! 

Cha. Words would but wrong the gratitude I 
owe you a 
Should I begin to speak, my. soul is so full, 
That I should talk of nothing else all day. 

Enter Monimia. 

Mon. My brother! 

Cha, Oh my sister ! let me hold thee 
Long in my arms. I have not beheld thy face 
These many days ; by night I have often seen 

thee 
In gentle dreams, and satisfied my soul. 
With fancied joys, 'till morning cares awaked me. 
Another sister ! sure it must be so ; 
Though I remember well I bad but one : 
But I feel something in my heart that prompts, 
And tells me, she has claim and interest there. 

Acast* Young soldier, yon have not only studs* 
ed war, 
Courtship, I see, has been your practice too, 
And may not prove unwelcome to my daughter. 

Cha. Is she your daughter ! then my heart told 
true, 

nd I am at least her brother by adoption ; 
For you have made yourself to me a father, 
And by that patent I have leave to love her. 

Ser. Monimia, thou hast told me men are false* 
Will flatter, feign, and make an art of love : 
Is Chamont so ? No, sure, he is more than man, 
Something that is near divine, and truth dwells in 
him. 

Acast. Thus happy, who would envy pompon* 
power, 
The luxury of courts, or wealth of cities ? . 
Let there be jov through all the house this day ! 
In every room let plenty flow at large ! 
It is the birth-day of my royal master. 
You have not visited the court, Chamont, 
Since your return? 

Cha. I have no business there ; 
I have not slavish temperance enough 
To attend a favourite's heels, and Watch his smile*, 
Bear an Ul office done me to my face, 



OTWAYi] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



fi£3 



And thank the lord, that wronged me, for his fa- 
vour. 

Acast. This you could do. [To his sons. 

Coat. I would serve my prince. 

Acast. Who would serve him ? 

Cast. I would, my lord. 

PoL Audi; both would. 

Acast. Away! 
He needs not any servants such as you. 
Serve him ! he merits more than man can do ! ' 
He is so good, praise cannot speak his worth ; 
So merciful, sure he never slept in wrath ; 
So just, that' were he but a private man, 
He could not do a wrong. How would you serve 
him? 

Coif. I would serve him with my fortune here 
at home, 
And serve him with my person in his wars, * 
Watch for him, fight for him, bleed for him. 

PoL Die for him, 
As every true-born loyal subject ought 

Acast. Let me embrace you both. Now, by 
the souls 
Of my tfrave ancestors, I am' truly happy ! 
For tub be ever blest my marniigMayr 
Blest be your mother's memory, that bore you ; 
And doiroly blest be that auspicious hour, 
That gave ye birth ! Yes, my aspiring boys, I 
Ye shall have business, when your master wants 

you. 
You cannot serve a nobler : Ibave* served him ; 
In this old body yet the mar)ts remain 
Of many wounds. Tlmve, with this tongue, pro- 
claimed 
His right, even m the face of 'rank' rebellion ; 
And, when a foul-mduthed traitor once profaned 
His sacred name, with 'my good sabre drawn, 
^Even at the head of all his giddy rout, 
I rushed, and clove the rebel to the chine. 

Enter Servant. 

- Strv. ^MylordV the expected guests are just ar- 
rived. 
JLcaxf. Go' you,' and give* them welcome and 
reception. 
V&euni tyittalio, Ptilyaore* Serbia, fyc. 
Cha. Iffy lord; F stand in need of your assist- 
ance 
In something, that concerns my peace and' honour. 
'Acast. Spoke like the son of that brave man I 
loved : 
So freely, friendly, we conversed together. 
Whate'erit be, with confidence impart it; 
Thou shalt command my fortune and my sword. 
Cha. I' dare not doubt' your friendship, nor your 
justice; 
Yom* : bouriry" shewn to what I hold tnbst dear, 
My orphan sister, must not be forgotten. 

Acast. Prithee no more of that, it grates my 

"nature. 
fha. When our dear parents died, they died 
together, 



One* fate surprised them, and one grave received 

them; 
My father, with his dying breath,' bequeathed 
Her to my love. My mother, as she lay 
Languishing by him, called me to her side, 
Took me in her minting arms, wept, and embra- 
ced me: 
Then pressed me close, and, as she observed my 

tears, 
Kissed them away. Said she,- * Chamont, my son, 
' By this, and all the love I ever shewed thee, 
' Be careful of Mommia ; watch her youth ; 
' Let not her wants betray her to -dishonour : 
' Perhaps kind heaven may raise some friend'— 

Then sighed, 
Kissed me again ; so blessed us, arid expired. 
Pardon my grief! 

Acast. It speaks an honest nature. 

Cha. Hie friend heaven raised was you ; you 
took her up 
An infant, to the desart world exposed, 
And proved another parent. 

Acast. I have not wronged her. 

Cha. Far be it from my fears. 

Acast. Then why this argument? 

Cha. My lovdy my •nattticfa' jealous, and you'll 
bear it 

At art. Go on. 

Cha. Great spirits bear misfortunes hardly. 
Good Offices claim gratitude; and pride, 
Where power is wanting, will usurp a little, 
And -make us, rather than* -be- thought behind- 
hand, 
Pay over-price. 

Acast. l cannot guess your drift ; 
Distrust you me ? 

Cha, No, but I fear her weakness 
May make her pay her debt at any rate ; 
And, to deal freely with your lordship's goodness, 
I have Heard a story lately much disturbs me. 

Acast: Then first charge her; and if the of- 
fence be found 
Within my reach, though it should touch my na- 
ture, 
In my own offspring, by the fear reme m brance 
Of thy brave father, whom my heart rejoiced in, 
I would prosecute it with severest vengeance. 

[Erf* 

Cha. I thank you from my soul. 

Mon. ' Alas ! my ' brother ! 
What hate I done f and why- do you abuse me ? 
My heart quakes in me ; in yout settled face, 
And clouded brow, meminks i see my fate, 
too will not kill me ! 

Cha. Prithee, why dost thou talk' so ? 

Mon. Look ktodly on me* then-: I cannot bea* 
Severity ; it daunts, and does amaze me. 
My heart' is so tender; should you charge me 

roughly, 
I should but weep, and answer yon with sobbing ^ 
But use' me gently, tike a loving brother, 
And search through all the secrets of my soul. 



324 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Otway. 



Cha. Fear nothing; f will shew myself a bro- 
ther, 
A tender, honest, and a loving brother. 
You have not forgot our father ? 
Mon. I shall never. 

Cha. Then you'll remember too, he was a man, 
That lived up to the standard of his honour, 
And prized that jewel more than mines of wealth. 
He'd not have done a shameful thing but once, 
Though kept in darkness from the world, and 

hidden, 
He could not have forgiven it to himself. 
This was the only portion that lie left us; 
And I more glory in it, than if possest 
Of all, that ever fortune threw on fools. 
Twas a large trust, and must be managed nicely. 
Now, if by any chance, Monimia, 
You have soiled this gem, and taken from, its va- 
lue, 
How will you account with me ? 

Mon. I challenge envy, 
Malice, apd all the practices of hell, 
To censure all the actions of my past 
Unhappy life, and taint me if they can ! 

Cha. Ill tell thee, then ; three nights ago, as I 
Lay musing in my bed, all darkness round me, 
A sudden damp struck to my heart* cold sweat 
Dewed all my face, and trembling seized my 

limbs. 
My bed shook under me, the curtains started, 
And to my tortured fancy there appeared 
Hie form of thee, thus beauteous as thou art; 
Thy garments flowing loose, and in each hand 
A wanton lover, who by turns caressed thee, 
With all the freedom of unbounded pleasure. 
I snatched my sword, and in the very moment 
Darted it at the phantom ; straight it left me. 
Then rose, and called for lights, when, oh, dire 

omen! 
I found my weapon had the arras pierced, 
Just where that famous tale was interwoven, 
How the unhappy Theban slew his father. 

Mon. And for this cause my virtue is suspected ! 
Because in dreams your fancy has been ridden, 
I must be tortured waking ! 
. Cha. Have a care ! 
Labour not to be justified too fast. 
Hear all, and then let justice hold the scale. 
What followed was the riddle, that confounds me. 
Through a close lane, as I pursued my journey, 
And meditating on the last night's vision, 
I spied a wrinkled hag, with age grown double, 
Picking dry sticks, and mumbljug to herself; 
Her eyes with scalding rheum were galled and 

red; 
Cold palsy shook her head, her hands seemed 

withered, 
And o'er her crooked shoulders had she wrapped 
The tattered remnant of an old striped hanging, 
Which served to keep her carcase from the cold ; 
So there was nothing of a piece about her. 
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched 



With different coloured rags, black, red, white, 

yellow, 
And seemed to speak variety of wretchedness. 
I asked her of my way, which she informed me ; 
Then craved my charity, and bade me hasten 
To save a sister : at that word I started ! 
Mon. The common, cheat of beggars ; every 
day 
They flock about our doors, pretend to gifts 
Of prophecy, and telling fools their fortunes^ 
Cha. Oh ! but she told me such a tale, Agoni- 
mia, 
As in it bore great circumstance of truth,: 
Castalio and Polydore, my sister 1 
Mon. Ha! 

Cha. What, altered ! does your courage fail 
you! 
Now, by my father's 30ul, the witch was honest. 
Answer me, if thou hast not lost to them 
Thy honour, at a sordid game ? 

Mon. I will, 
I must, so hardly my misfortune loads me ; 
That both have offered me their loves, most true. 
Cha. And 'tis as true too, they have both un- 
done thee. 
Mon. Though they both with earnest vows 
Have pressed my heart, if e'er in thought^ yield* 
ed 

Tq any but Castalioi 

Cha. But Castalio ! *. 

Mon. Still will you cross the line of my dis» 
course ! 
Yes, I confess, that he has won my soul 
By generous love, and honourable vows, 
Which he this day appointed to complete, 
And make himself by holy marriage mine, 
Cha. Art thou then spotless? Qast thou still 
preserved 
Thy virtue white, without a blot, untainted? 
mon. When I'm unchaste may Heaven reject 
my prayers ! 
Or more, to make me wretched, may you know it ! 
Cha. Oh, then, Monimia, art thou dearer to me 
Than all the comforts, ever yet blest man. 
But let not marriage bait thee to thy ruin. 
Trust not a man; we are by nature false, 
Dissembling, subtle, cruel, and inconstant. 
When a man talks of love, with caution trust him; 
But if he swears, he'll certainly deceive thee. 
I charge thee, let no more Castalio soothe thee ! 
Avoid it, as thou wouldst preserve the peace 
Of a poor brother, to whose soul thou art pre- 
cious. 
Mon. I will. 

Cha. Appear as cold, when next you meet, as 
great ones, 
When merit begs ; then shalt thou see how soon 
His heart will cool, and all his pains grow easy. 

[Exit. 
Mon. Yes, I will try him ; torture him severely ; 
For, oh, Castalio ! thou too much hast wronged 
me, 



Otway.] 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



225 



In leaving me to Poiydore's ill usage. 

He comes; and for once, oh, love, stand neuter, 

Whilst a hard part's performed ! for I must 

attempt to 
Wound his soft nature, though* my heart aches 

for it. [Exit. 

Enter Castalio. 

Cast. Monimia, Monimia ! — —She's gone ; 
And seemed to part with anger in her eyes. 
I am a fool, ana she has found my weakness ; 
She uses me already like a slave, 
Fast bound in chains, to be chastised at will. 
Twas not well done to trifle with my brother ; 
I might have trusted him with all the secret, 

Opened my silly heart, and shewn it bare. 

But then he loves her too; but not like me : 

I am a doating honest slave, designed 

For bondage, marriage bonds, which I have sworn 

To wear. It is the only thing I e'er 

Hid from his knowledge, and hell sure forgive 

The first transgression of a wretched friend, 

Betrayed to love, and all its little follies. [Exit. 

Enter Polydore and Page at the door. 

Pol. Here place yourself, and watch my bro- 
ther thoroughly. 
If he should chance to meet Monimia, make 
Just observation on each word and action ; 
Pass not one circumstance without remark : 
Sir, 'tis your office; do it, and bring me word.  

[Exit Pol 

Enter Monimia and Castalio. 

Cast. Monimia, my angel ! 'twas not, kind > 
To leave me like a turtle nere alone, 
To droop and mourn the absence of my mate. 
When thou art from me, every place is desert, 
And I, methinks, am savage and forloru; 
Thy presence only 'tis can make me blest, 
Heal my unquiet mind, and tune my soul. 
Mon. Oh, the bewitching tongues of faithless 
men! 
Tis thus the false hyaena makes her moan, 
To draw the pitying traveller to her den. 
Your sex are so, such false dissemblers all, 
With sighs and plaints ye entice poor women's 

hearts, 
And all, that pity you, are made v'our prey. 
Cast. What means my love ? Oh, how bare I 
deserved 
This language, from the sovereign of my joys ? 
Stop, stop those tears, Monimia, for they fall, 
like baneful dew from a distempered sky; 
I feel them chill me to my very heart. 

Mon. Oh, you are false, Castalio, most for- 
sworn ! 
Attempt no farther to delude my faith ; 
My heart is fixed, and you shall shake it no more. 
Cast. Who told you so? What ill-bred villain 
durst 
Profane the sacred business of my love ? 
Vol. I. 



Mon. Your brother, knowing on what terms 
Fm here, 
The unhappy object of your father's charity, 
Licentiously discoursed to me of love, 
And durst affront me with his brutal passion. 

Cast. Tis I have been to blame, and only I; 
False to my brother, and unjust to thee. 
For, oh ! he loves thee too, and this day owned it, 
Taxed me with mine, and claimed a right above 
me. 
Mon. And was your love so very tame, to 
shrink ? 
Or, rather than lose him, abandon me ? 

Cast. I, knowing him precipitate and rash, 
To calm his heat, and .to conceal my happiness, 
Seemed to comply with his unruly will ; 
Talked as he talked, and granted all he asked ; 
Lest he in rage might have our loves betrayed, 
And I for ever had Monimia lost. 

Mon. Could you then ? did you ? can you own 
it too ? 
Twas poorly done, unworthy of yourself ! 
And I can never think you meant me fair. 

Cast. Is this Monimia ? surely no ; till now 
I ever thought her dove-like, soft, and kind. 
Who trusts Ins heart with woman is surely lost. 
You were made fair on purpose to undo us, 
While greedily we snatch the alluring bait, 
And ne'er distrust the poison, that it hides. 
Mon. When love ill-placed would find a means 

to break 

Cast. It never wants pretences or excuse. 
Mon. Man therefore was a lord-like creature 
made, 
Hough as the winds, and as inconstant too ; 
A lofty aspect given him for command, 
Easily softened, when he would betray. 
Like conquering tyrants, you our breasts invade, 
While you are pleased to forage for a while ; 
But soon you find new conquests out, and leave 
The ravaged province ruinate and waste. 
If so, Castalio, you have served my heart, 
I find that desolation is settled there, 
And I shall ne'er recover peace again. 

Cast. Who can hear this and bear an equal 
mind ! , 

Since you will drive me from you, I must go ; 
But, oh, Monimia! When thou hast banished 

me, 
No creeping slave, though tractable and dull 
As. artful woman for her ends would choose, 
Shall ever doat as I have done : for, oh ! 
No tongue my pleasure nor my pain can tell, 
Tis heaven to have thee, and without thee hell. 

Mon. Castalio, stay ! we must not part. I find 
My rage ebbs out, and love flows in apace. 
These little quarrels, love must needs forgive, 
They rouse up drowsy thoughts, and wake the 

. soul. 
Oh ! charm, me with the music of thy tongue ! 
I'm ne'er so blest, as when I'hear thy vows, 
And listen to the language of thy heart. 

Z 



226 



BitfrtSti Mama. 



[Otway. 



Cast* Where am I f surely paradise is found 



me. 



Sweets planted by the hand of HeaVerigrow here, 

And every sense is full of thy perfection. 

To hear thee speak might calm a madman's 

frenzy, 
Till by attention he forgot his sorrows ; 



But to behold thy eyes, thy amazing beauties, • 
Might make him rage again with love, as I do; 
Thou Nature's whole perfection in one piece ! 
Sure, framing thee, Heaven took unusual care, 
As its own beauty it designed £hee fair ; 
And formed thee by the best loved angel there. 

Exeunt. 



ACT in. 



SCENE L— 4 Garden. 



all 



Enter Poly do re and Page. 

Pol Were they so kind ? Express it to me 
In words; 'twill make me think I saw it too. 

Page. At first I thought they had been mortal 
foes; 
Monimia raged, Castalio grew disturbed ; 
Each thought the other wronged; yet both so 

haughty, 
They scorned submission: though love all the 

while 
The rebel played, and scarce could be contained. 

Pol. But what succeeded ? 

Page. Oh, 'twas wondrous pretty ! 
For, of a sudden, all the storm was past, 
A gentle calm of love succeeded it; 
Monimia sighed and blushed, Castalio swore ; 
As you, my lord, I well remember, did 
To my young sister, in the orange grove, 
When 1 was first preferred Jo be your page. 

Pol. Happy Castalio ! Now, by my great soul, 
My ambitious soul, that languishes for £lory, 
I'll have her yet, by my best hopes I will ! 
She shall be mine, in spite of all her arts. 
But for Castalio why was I refused ? 
Has he supplanted me by some foul play ? 
Traduced my honour? Death ! he durst not do it 
It must be so : we parted, and he met her, 
Half to compliance brought by me ; surprised 
Her sinking virtue, till she yielded quite. 
So poachers basely pick up tired game, 
While the fair hunter is cheated of his prey. 
Boy? 

Page, My lord f 

Pol. Go to your chamber, and prepare your 
lute: 
Find out some song to please me, that describes 
Women's hypocrisies, their subtle wiles, 
Betraying smiles, feigned tears, inconstancies; 
Their pamted outsides, and corrupted minds ; 
The sum of all their follies, and their falsehoods. 

Enter Servant. 

Serv. Oh, the unhappiest tidings tongue e'er 
told! 

Pol. The matter ! 

Serv. Oh ! your father, my good master, 
As with his guests he sat, in mirth raised high, 
And chased the goblet round the joyful board, 
A sudden trembling sewed on all his limbs; 



His eyes distorted grew; his visage pale; 

His speech forsook him ; life itself seemed fled, 

And all his friends are waiting now about him. 

Enter Acasto, leaning oh two. 

Acatt Support me ; give me air ; 111 yet reco- 
ver. 
Twas but a slip decaying nature made ; 
For she grows weary hear her journey's end. 
Where are my sons ? Come near, my Polydore ; 
Your brother ; where's Castalio ? 

Serv. My lord, 
I've searched, as you commanded, alt the house ; 
He and Monimia are not to be found. 

Acatt. Not to be found ! then where are all 
my friends? Tis well; 
I hope they'll pardon an unhappy fault 
My unmannerly infirmity has made ! 
Death could not come in a more welcome hour; 
for I'm prepared to meet him, and, methiuks, 
Would live and die with all my friends about me* 

Enter Castalio and Monimia. 

Cast. Angels preserve my dearest father's life, 
Bless it with long uninterrupted days ! 
OL may he live till time itself decay, 
Till good men wish him dead, or I offend him ! 

Acatt 4 Thank you, Castalio; give me both your 
hands, 
And bear me up ; I'd walk.— So, now, methiaks. 
I appear as great as Hercules himself, 
Supported by the pillars he had raised. ' 

Cast. My lord, your chaplain. 

Acatt. Let the good man enter. 

Enter Chaplain. 

Chap. Heaven guard your lordship, and restore* 
your health. 

Acatt. I have provided for thee, if I die. 
No fawning ! 'tis a scandal to thy office. 
My sons, as thus united ever live ; 
And for the estate you'll find, when I am dead. 
I have divided it betwixt you both, 
Equally parted, as you shared my love ; 
Only to sweet Monimia I have bequeathed 
Ten thousand crowns ; a little portion for her, 
To wed her honourably as she's born.' 
Be not less friends because you are brothers: 
shun * 

The man that's singular ; his mind's unsound, 
His spleen o'erweighs his brains ; but, above all, 



Qt^TAT.] 



BR«T/§U 9£AMA. 



227 



Avoid die politic, ^be factious fool, 

The busy, buzzing, talking, Hardened knave. 

Hie quaint sjqooth rogue, .that sins against his 

reason, 
Calls saucy loud suspicion public zeal, 
And mutiny, the dictates of his spirit : 
Be very careful how you make new friends. > 
Men read not morals now : 'twas a custom : 
But all are to their father's vices born ; 
And in their mother's ignorance are bred. 
I^et marriage be the last mad thing jou do, 
For all the sins and foJ}ies of the past. 
If you have children, never give them knowledge; 
*Twitl spoil their fortune ; .fools are all the fashion; 
If von pave religion, keep it to yourselves ; f 
Atheists wjll else, make u^e of toleration, 
And laugh you out of it Nevcjr shew ^eli^iqn,, 
Except you, mean to pass.for knaves of conscience, 
And cheat believing fools, that, think ye honest. - 

Enter Serika. 

Ser. My father ! 

Ajcast. My heart's darling ! 

£er. Let my knees 
Fix to the earth. Ne'er let my eyes have rest, 
But wake and nyeep, till lieavco restore ray father. 

Acast. Rise to my arms, and thy kind prayers 
are answered. 
For thou art a wondrous extract of all goodness, 
Born for my joy,, and no pains felt when near 

thee. 
Chamont 1 

Enter Chamont. 

Cha. My lord, may it prove not an .unlucky 
omen. 
Many, I see, are waiting round about you, 
And I am come to ask a blessing too f 
Acast. Mayest thou be happy! 
Cha. Where ? 
Acast. la all thy wishes. 
Cha. Confirm me so, and make this fair one 1 
mine; 
1 am unpractised in the trade of courtship, 
And know not how to, deal put love wjth art : 
Onsets in love seem best like those in war, 
Fierce, resolute, and done with all the force ; 
So I would open my whole heart at once, 
And pour out the abundance bif my soul. . 
Acast. What says Senna ? Canst thou love a 
soldier? 
One born to honour, and to honour bred? 
One that has learned to treat even foes with 

kindness ; 
To wrong no man's good fame, nor praise him- 
self? 
Ser. Oh ! name not love, for that's allied to 

And joy must be a stranger to mj heart, 
When you are in danger. May Chamont's good 

fortune 
Render him lovely to some happier maid ! 



Whilst I, at friendly distance, see him blest, 
Praise the kind gods, and woncler at his virtues. 
Acast. Chamont, pursue her, conquer and pos* 
sess her, 
And, as my son, the third of all my fortune 
Shall t be thy lot 

put keep thy eyes from wandering, man of frailty. 
Beware the dangerous beauty ofthe wanton ; 
Shun their enticements; ruin, like a vulture, 
Waits on' their conquests : ' falsehood too's their 

business; 
They put false beauty off to all the world, 
Use false endearments to the fools that love them, 
And, when they marry, to their silly husbands 
They bring false virtue, broken fame and for- 
tune. 
Mon. t Hear ye that, my lord ? 
FoL Yes, my fair monitor, old men always 

talk thus. 
Acast. Chamont, you told me of some doubts, 
that pressed you ; 
Arc you yet satisfied that I'm your friend ? 
Cha. My lord, I would not "lose that satisfac- 
tion 
For any blessing I could wish for. 
As to my fears, already I have lost them ; 
They neer shall vex nie more, nor trouble you. 
AcqsL I thank jou. Daughter, you must do 
so too. 
My friends, 'tis late ; 

Now ray disorder seems all past and over, 
And I, methinks, begin to feel new health. 
Cast, Would you but rest, it might restore you 

quite. 
Acast. Yes, 111 to bed ; old men must humour 
weakness : 
Let me have music, then, to lull and chase 
This melancholy thought of death away. 
Good-night, my friends ; Ileaven guard ye all ! 

good-night \ 
To-morrow early we'll salute the day, 
Find out new pleasures, and redeem lost time. 

[Exeunt all but Chamont and Chaplain. 
Cha. Hist, hist, Sir Gravity, a word with you. 
Chap, With me, sir ! 

Chq, If you're at leisure, sir, we'll waste an 
hour. 
'Tis yet too soon to sleep, and 'twill be charity 
To lend your conversation to a stranger. 
Chap. Sir, you are a soldier ? 
Cha. Yes. 

Chap. I love a soldier. 
And had been one myself, but that my parents 
Would make me what you see me : yet I'm ho- 
nest, 
For all I wear black. 

Cha. And that is a wonder. 
Have you had long dependence on this family? 
Chap. I have not thought it so, because my 
time is 
Spent pleasantly. My lord's not haughty nor im- 
perious, 



228 



BRITISH DRAMA. 



[Otway. 



Nor I gravely whimsical ; he has good nature, 
And I nave manners. 
His sons too are civil to me, because 
I do not-pretend to be wiser than they are. 
I meddle with no man's business but my own ; 
I rise in a morning early, study moderately. 
Eat and drink chearfuUy, live soberly, 
Take my innocent pleasure freely; 
So meet with respect, and am not the jest of the 
family. 

Cha. I'm glad you are so happy. 
A pleasant fellow this, and may oe useful. [Aside. 
Knew you my father, the old Chamont ? 

Chap. I did, and was most sorry, when we lost 
him. 

Cha. Why? didst thou love him ? 

Chap. Every body loved him ; besides he was 
my master's friend. 

Cha. I could embrace thee for that very notion. 
If thou didst love my father, I could think 
Thou wouldst not be an enemy to me. 

Chap. I can be no man's foe, 

Cha. Then prithee tell me, 
Think'st thou the lord Castalio loves my sister ? 
Nay, never start. Come, come, I know thy 

office 
Opens thee all the secrets of the family; 
Then, if thou'rt honest, use this freedom kindly. 

Chap. Love your sister ! 

Cha. Ay, love her. 

Chap, sir, I never asked him, 
And wonder you should ask it me. 

Cha. Nay, but thou art an hypocrite ; is there 
not one 
Of all thy tribe that's honest? In your schools 
The pride of your superiors makes ye slaves ; 
Yc all live loathsome, sneaking, servile lives; 
Not free enough to practice generous truth, 
Though yc pre lend to teach it to the world. 

Chap. I would deserve a better thought from 
you. 

Cha. If thou wouldst have me not contemn 
thy office 
And character, think all thy brethren knaves, 
Thy trade a cheat, and thou its worst professor, 
Inform me ; for I tell thee, priest, I'll know. 

Chap. Either he loves her, or he much has 
wronged her. 

Cha. How! wronged her? Have a care, for 
this may lay 
A scene of mischief to undo us all. 
But tell me, wronged her, saidst thou ? 

Chap. Ay, sir, wronged her. 

Cha. This is a secret worth a monarch's for- 
tune: 
What shall I give thee for it? Thou dear physician 
Qf sickly souls, unfold this riddle to me, 
And comfort mine 

Chap. I would bide nothing from you willingly. 

Cha. Nay, then again thou art honest. Would'st 
thou tell me ? 

Chap, Yes, if I durst. 



Cha. Why, what afirights thee ? 
Chap. You do, 
Who are not to be trusted with the secret 

Cha. Why ? I am no fool. 

Chap. So indeed you say. 

Cha, Prithee be serious then. 

Chap. You see I am so, 
And hardly shall be mad enough' to-night 
To trust you with my ruin, 

Cha. Art thou then 
So far concerned in it? What has been thy office ? 
Curse on that formal steady villain's face ! 
Just so do all bawds look : nay, bawds, they say, 
Can pray upon occasions, talk of heaven, 
Turn up their goggling eye-balls, rail at vice, 
Dissemble, lie, and preach like any priest 
Art thou a bawd ? 

Chap. Sir, I am not often used thus. 

Cha. Be just then. 

Chap. So I shall be to the trust, 
That is laid upon me. 

Cha. By the reverenced soul 
Of that great honest man, that gave me being, 
Tell me but what thou knowest concerns my 

honour, 
And if I e'er reveal it to thy wrong, 
May this good sword ne'er do me righ