THE BROKEN HEART.  
A Tragedy.  
ACTED By the king's majesty's Servants at the private House in the Blackfriars.  
Fide Honour.  
LONDON: Printed by I. B. for HUGH BEESTON, and are to be sold at his Shop, near the Castle in Cornhill. 1633.   

TO THE MOST WORTHY DESERVER OF THE noblest Titles in Honour, WILLIAM, Lord CRAVEN, Baron of Hamsteed-Marshall.  
MY LORD:  
THE glory of a great name, acquired by a greater glory of Action, hath in all ages lived the truest chronicle to his own Memory. In the practice of which Argument, your growth to perfection (even in youth) hath appeared so sincere, so unflattering a penman; that Posterity cannot with more delight read the merit of Noble endeavours, then noble endeavours merit thanks from Posterity to be read with delight. Many Nations, many eyes, have been witnesses of your Deserts, and loved Them: Be pleased then, with the freedom of your own Nature, to admit ONE amongst All, particularly into the list of such as honour a fair Example of Nobility. There is a kind of humble Ambition, not uncommendable, when the silence of study breaks forth into Discourse, coveting rather encouragement than Applause; yet herein Censore commonly is too severe an Auditor, without the moderation of an able Patronage. I have ever been slow in courtship of greatness, not ignorant of such defects as are frequent to Opinion: but the justice of your Inclination to Industry, emboldens my weakness, of confidence, to relish an experience of your Mercy, as many brave Dangers have tasted of your Courage. Your Lordship strove to be known to the world (when the world knew you least) by voluntary but excellent Attempts: Like Allowance I plead of being known to your Lordship (in this low presumption) by tendering to a favourable entertainment, a Devotion offered from a heart, that can be as truly sensible of any least respect, as ever profess the owner in my best, my readiest services, A Lover of your natural Love to Virtue,  
john Ford.   

The Prologue.  
Our Scene is Sparta. HE whose best of Art  
Hath drawn this Piece, calls it the Broken Heart.  
The Title lends no expectation here  
Of apish laughter, or of some lame Jeer  
At place or persons; no pretended clause  
Of jests fit for a brothel Court's applause  
From vulgar admiration: such low songs,  
Tuned to unchaste ears, suit not modest tongues.  
The Virgin Sister then deserved fresh bays  
When Innocence and Sweetness crowned their lays:  
Then vices gasped for breath, whose whole Commerce  
Was whipped to Exile by unblushing verse.  
This law we keepe in our Presentment now,  
Not to take freedom more than we allow;  
What may be here thought a fiction, when Times youth  
Wanted some riper years, was known A Truth:  
In which, if words have clothed the subject right,  
You may partake, a Pity, with Delight.   

The Scene, SPARTA. The Speakers names, fitted to their Qualities.  
AMYCLAS, 
Common to the Kings of Laconia.  ITHOCLES, Honour of loveliness, 
A favourite.  ORGILUS, Angry, 
Son to Crotolon.  BASSANES, Vexation, 
A jealous Nobleman.  ARMOSTES, An appeasor, 
A Counsellor of State.  CROTOLON, Noise, 
Another Counsellor.  PROPHILUS, dear, 
Friend to Ithocles.  NEARCHUS, Young Prince, 
Prince of Argos.  TECNICUS, Artist, 
A Philosopher.  LEMOPHIL, Glutton, 
Two Courtiers.  GRONEAS, Tavern-haunter, 
Two Courtiers.  AMELUS, Trusty, 
Friend to Nearchus.  PHULAS, Watchful, 
Servant to Bassanes.   
CALANTHA, Flower of beauty, 
The king's daughter  PENTHEA, Complaint, 
Sister to Ithocles.  EUPHRANEA, joy, 
A Maid of Honour.  CHRISTALLA, Crystal, 
Maids of Honour.  PHILEMA, A kiss, 
Maids of Honour.  GRANSIS Old Beldame. 
Overseer of Penthea.   

Person's included.  THRASUS, Fierceness, 
Father of Ithocles.  APLOTES, Simplicity, 
Orgilus so disguised.    

THE BROKEN HEART.  

Actus primus,  

Scaena prima.  Enter Crotolon and Orgilus. Crot. 
Dally not further, I will know the reason  
That speeds thee to this journey.  Org. 
Reason? good Sir,  
I can yield many.  Crot. 
Give me one, a good one;  
Such I expect, and ere we part must have  
Athens? pray why to Athens? you intend not  
To kick against the world, turn Cynic, Stoic,  
Or read the Logic Lecture, or become  
An Areopagite; and judge in causes  
Touching the Common wealth? for as I take it,  
The budding of your chin cannot prognosticate  
So grave an honour,  Org. 
All this I acknowledge,  Crot. 
You do: then (Son) if books and love of knowledge  
Inflame you to this travel, here in Sparta  
You may as freely study.  Org. 
'Tis not that Sir.  Crot. 
Not, that Sir? As a father I command thee  
To acquaint me with the truth.  Org. 
Thus I obey 'ee:  
After so many quarrels, as dissension,  
Fury, and Rage had brought in blood, and sometimes  
With death to such confederates, as sided  
With now dead Thrasus, and yourself my Lord,  
Our present King Amiclus reconciled  
Your eager swords, and Sealed a gentle peace:  
Friends you professed yourselves, which to confirm,  
A resolution for a lasting league  
Betwixt your Families was entertained,  
By joining in a Hymenean bond,  
Me, and the fair Penthea, only daughter  
To Thrasus.  Crot. 
What of this?  Org. 
Much, much (dear sir)  
A freedom of converse, an interchange  
Of holy, and chaste love, so sixth our souls  
In a firm growth of union, that no Time  
Can eat into the pledge: we had enjoyed  
The sweets our vows expected, had not cruelty  
Prevented all those triumphs we prepared for,  
By Thrasus his untimely death.  Crot. 
Most certain.  Org. 
From this time sprouted up that poisonous stalk  
Of Aconite, whose ripened fruit hath ravished  
All health, all comfort of a happy life:  
For Ithocles her brother, proud of youth,  
And prouder in his power, nourished closely  
The memory of former discontents.  
To glory in revenge, by cunning partly,  
Partly by threats, a woos at once, and forces  
His virtuous sister to admit a marriage  
With Bassanes, a Nobleman, in honour  
And riches, I confess beyond my fortunes.  Crot. 
All this is no sound reason to import me  
My leave for thy departure.  Org. 
Now it follows,  
Beauteous Penthea wedded to this torture  
By an insulting brother, being secretly  
Compelled to yield her virgin freedom up  
To him, who never can usurp her heart  
Before contracted mine, is now so yoked  
To a most barbarous thraldom's misery,  
Affliction, that he savour not humanity  
Whose sorrow melts not into more than pity,  
In hearing but her name.  Crot. 
As how pray?  Org. 
Bassanes  
The man that calls her wife; considers truly  
What Heaven of perfections he is Lord of,  
By thinking fair Penthea his: This thought  
Begets a kind of Monster-Love, which Love  
Is nurse unto a fear so strong, and servile,  
As brands all dotage with a jealousy.  
All eyes who gaze upon that shrine of beauty,  
He doth resolve, do homage to the miracle;  
Some one, he is assured, may now or then  
(If opportunity but sort) prevail:  
So much out of a self-unworthiness  
His fears transport him, not that he finds cause  
In her obedience, but his own distrust.  Crot. 
You spin out your discourse.  Org. 
My griefs are violent;  
For knowing how the Maid was heretofore  
Courted by me, his jealousies grow wild  
That I should steal again into her favours,  
And undermine her virtues: which the gods  
Know I nor dare, nor dream of: hence, from hence,  
I undertake a voluntary exile.  
First, by my absence to take off the ears  
Of jealous Bassanes, but chiefly (Sir)  
To free Penthea from a hell on earth:  
Lastly, to lose the memory of something,  
Her presence makes to live in me afresh.  Crot. 
Enough (my Orgilus) enough: To Athens  
I give a full consent:— Alas good Lady—  
we shall hear from thee often?  Org. 
Often.  Crot. 
See  
Thy Sister comes to give a farewell.  Enter Euphrania. Fuphr. 
Brother.  Org. 
 
A brothers kiss, more carefull of thine honour,  
Thy health, and thy well-doing, than my life.  
Before we part, in presence of our father,  
I must prefer a suit to 'ee.  Euphr. 
You may style it,  
My brother, a command.  Org. 
That you will promise  
To pass never to any man, however worthy,  
Your faith, till with our Father's leave  
I give a free consent.  Crot. 
An easy motion,  
I'll promise for her, Orgilus.  Org. 
Your pardon;  
Euphrania's oath must yield me satisfaction.  Euphr. 
By Vesta's sacred fires I swear.  Crot. 
And I  
By great Apollo's beames join in the vow;  
Not without thy allowance, to bestow her  
On any living.  Org. 
Dear Euphrania  
Mistake me not; far, far 'tis from my thought,  
As far from any wish of mine, to hinder  
Preferment to an honourable bed,  
Or fitting Fortune: thou art young, and handsome;  
And 'twere injustice; more, a tyranny  
Not to advance thy merit. Trust me Sister,  
It shall be my first care to see thee matched  
As may become thy choice, and our contents:  
I have your oath.  Euphr. 
You have: but mean you brother  
To leave us as you say?  Crot. 
ay, ay, Euphrania  
He has just grounds direct him: I will prove  
A father and a brother to thee.  Euphr. 
Heaven  
Does look into the secrets of all hearts:  
Gods you have mercy with 'ee, else—  Crot. 
Doubt nothing  
Thy brother will return in safety to us.  Org. 
Souls sunk in sorrows, never are without 'em;  
They change fresh airs, but bear their griefs about 'em.  Exeunt omnes.  

Flourish. Scene 2.  Enter Amyclas the King, Armostes, Prophilus, and attendants. Amy. 
The spartan gods are gracious, our humility  
Shall bend before their Altars, and perfume  
Their Temples with abundant sacrifice.  
See Lords, Amyclas your old King is entering  
Into his youth again. I shall shake on  
This silver badge of age, and change this snow  
For hairs as gay as are Apollo's locks;  
Our heart leaps in new vigour.  Armo. 
May old time  
Run back to double your long life (great Sir)  Amy. 
It will, it must Armostes, thy bold Nephew,  
Death-braving Ithocles, brings to our gates  
Triumphs and peace upon his conquering sword.  
Laconia is a monarchy at length;  
Hath in this latter war trod underfoot  
Messene's pride; Messene bows her neck  
To Lacedaemon's royalty: o 'twas  
A glorious victory, and doth deserve  
More than a Chronicle; a Temple Lords,  
A Temple, to the name of Ithocles.  
Where didst thou leave him Prophilus?  Proph. 
At Pephon  
Most gracious Sovereign; twenty of the noblest  
Of the Messenians, there attend your pleasure  
For such conditions as you shall propose.  
In settling peace, and liberty of life.  Amy. 
When comes your friend and General?  Pro. 
He promised  
To follow with all speed convenient.  Enter Crotolon, Calantha, Chrystalla, Philema and Euphrania. Amy. 
Our daughter— Dear Calantha, the happy news,  
The conquest of Messene, hath already  
Enriched thy knowledge.  Calan. 
With the circumstance  
And manner of the fight, related faithfully  
By Prophilus himself; but pray Sir, tell me,  
How doth the youthful General demean  
His actions in these fortunes?  Proph. 
Excellent Princess,  
Your own fair eyes may soon report a truth  
Unto your judgement, with what moderation,  
Calmness of nature, measure, bounds and limits  
of thankfulness and joy, 'a doth digest  
Such amplitude of his success, as would  
In others, moulded of a spirit less clear,  
Advance 'em to comparison with heaven.  
But Ithocles.—  Cal. 
Your friend.—  Proph. 
He is so Madam,  
In which the period of my Fate consists:  
He in this Firmament of honour, stands  
Like a Star fixed, not moved with any thunder  
Of popular applause, or sudden lightning  
Of self-opinion: He hath served his Country,  
And thinks 'twas but his duty.  Crot: 
You describe  
A miracle of man.  Amy. 
Such Crotolon,  
On forfeit of a king's word thou wilt find him:  
Hark, warning of his coming, all attend him.  Flourish. Enter Ithocles, Hemophill, and Groneas: the rest of the Lords ushering him in. Amy. 
Return into these arms, thy home, thy sanctuary.  
Delight of Sparta, treasure of my bosom,  
Mine own, own Ithocles.  Itho. 
Your humblest subject.  Armo. 
Proud of the blood I claim an Interest in;  
As brother to thy mother, I embrace thee  
Right noble Nephew.  Itho. 
Sir, your love's too partial.  Crot. 
Our Country speaks by me, who by thy valour,  
Wisdom and service, shares in this great action;  
Returning thee, in part of thy due merits,  
A general welcome.  Itho. 
You exceed in bounty.  Calan. 
Chrystalla, Philena, the Chaplet.— Ithocles  
Upon the wings of Fame, the singular  
And chosen fortune of an high attempt,  
Is borne so past the view of common sight,  
That I myself, with mine own hands, have wrought  
To crown thy Temples, this provincial garland;  
Accept, wear, and enjoy it, as our gift  
Deserved, not purchased.  Itho. 
Y'are a royal maid.  Amy. 
she is in all our daughter.  Ithoc 
Let me blush,  
Acknowledging how poorly I have served,  
What nothings I have done, compared with th' honours  
Heaped on the issue of a willing mind;  
In that lay mine ability, that only  
For who is he so sluggish from his birth?  
So little worthy of a name, or country,  
That owes not out of gratitude for life,  
A debt of Service, in what kind soever  
Safety or Counsel of the Commonwealth  
Requires for payment?  Cal. 
'a speaks truth.  Itho. 
Whom heaven  
Is pleased to style victorious, there, to such,  
Applause runs madding, like the drunken priests  
In Bacchus' sacrifices without Reason;  
Voicing the Leader on a Demi god:  
whenas indeed, each common soldier's blood  
Drops down as current coin in that hard purchase,  
As his, whose much more delicate condition  
Hath sucked the milk of ease. judgement commands,  
But Resolution executes: I use not  
Before this royal presence, these fit sleights,  
As in contempt of such as can direct:  
My speech hath other end; not to attribute  
All praise to one man's fortune, which is strengthened  
By many hands.— For instance, here is Prophilus  
A Gentleman (I cannot flatter truth)  
Of much desert; and, though in other rank,  
Both Hemophil and Groneas were not missing  
To wish their country's peace; for in a word,  
All there did strive their best, and 'twas our duty.  Amy. 
courtier's turn soldiers?— we vouchsafe our hand.  
Observe your great example.  Hemo. 
With all diligence.  Gron. 
Obsequiously and hourly.  Amy. 
Some repose  
After these toils are needful: we must think on  
Conditions for the Conquered; they expect 'em.  
On,— come my Ithocles.  Euphr. 
Sir with your favour,  
I need not a supporter.  Proph. 
Fate instructs me.  Exeunt. Manent Hemophill, Groneas, Christalla et Philema. Hemophill stays, Chrystalla, Groneas, Philema. Chry. 
With me?  Phil. 
Indeed I dare not stay.  Hem. 
Sweet Lady  
Soldiers are blunt,— your lip.  Christ. 
Fie, this is rudeness;  
You went not hence such creatures.  Gron. 
Spirit of valour  
Is of a mounting nature.  Phil. 
It appears so:  
Pray in earnest, how many men apiece  
Have you two been the death of?  Gron. 
Faith not many;  
We were composed of mercy.  Hemo. 
For our daring  
You heard the general's approbation  
Before the King.  Christ. 
You wished your country's peace:  
That showed your charity; where are your spoils,  
Such as the Soldier fights for?  Phil. 
They are coming.  Chri. 
By the next Carrier, are they not?  Gron 
Sweet Philena,  
When I was in the thickest of mine enemies,  
Slashing off one man's head, another's nose,  
Another's arms and legs.  Phil. 
And altogether.  Gron. 
Then would I with a sigh remember thee;  
And cry dear Philena, 'tis for thy sake  
I do these deeds of wonder:— dost not love me  
With all thy heart now?  Phil 
Now as heretofore.  
I have not put my love to use, the principal  
Will hardly yield an Interest.  Gron. 
By Mars  
I'll marry thee.  Phil. 
By Vulcan y'are forsworn,  
Except my mind do alter strangely.  Gron. 
One word.  Chri. 
You lie beyond all modesty,— forbear me.  Hem. 
I'll make thee mistress of a City, 'tis  
Mine own by conquest.  Chri. 
By petition; sue for't  
In Forma pauperis:— City? Kennell. Gallants  
Off with your Fathers, put on aprons, Gallants;  
Learn to reel, throm, or trim a lady's dog,  
And be good quiet souls of peace Hobgoblins.  Hem. 
Christalla?  Chri. 
Practice to drill hogs, in hope  
To share in the Acorns. soldiers? Corn-cutters;  
But not so valiant: they oft times draw blood,  
Which you durst never do. When you have practised  
More wit, or more civility, we'll rank 'ee  
I' th' list of men: till then, brave things at arms  
Dare not to speak to us,— most potent Groneas.  Phil. 
And Hemophil the hardy,— at your services.  Gron. 
They scorn us as they did before we went.  Hem. 
Hang 'em, let us scorn them, and be revenged.  Eexunt Chri. at Philema. Gron. 
Shall we?  Hem. 
We will; and when we sleight them thus,  
Instead of following them, they'll follow us.  
It is a woman's nature.  Gron. 
'Tis a scurvy one. exeunt omnes.   

Scene 3.  Enter Tecnicus a Philosopher, and Orgilus disguised like a Scholar of his. Tecn. 
Tempt not the Stars (young man) thou canst not play  
With the severity of Fate: this change  
Of habit, and disguise in outward view,  
Hides not the secrets of thy soul within thee,  
From their quick-piercing eyes, which dive at all times  
Down to thy thoughts: in thy aspect I note  
A consequence of danger.  Org. 
Give me leave  
(Grave Tecnicus) without foredooming destiny,  
Under thy roof to ease my silent griefs,  
By applying to my hidden wounds, the balm  
Of thy Oraculous Lectures: if my fortune  
Run such a crooked by-way, as to wrest  
My steps to ruin, yet thy learned precepts  
Shall call me back, and set my footings straight:  
I will not court the world.  Tecn. 
Ah Orgilus,  
Neglects in young men of delights, and life,  
Run often to extremities they care not  
For harms to others, who contemn their own.  Org. 
But I (most learned Artist) am not so much  
At odds with Nature, that I grudge the thrift  
Of any true deserver: nor doth malice  
Of present hopes, so check them with despair,  
As that I yield to thought of more affliction  
Than what is incident to frailty: wherefore  
Impute not this retired course of living  
Some little time, to any other cause  
Then what I justly render: the information  
Of an unsettled mind, as the effect  
Must clearly witness.  Tecn. 
Spirit of truth inspire thee.  
On these conditions I conceal thy change,  
And willingly admit thee for an Auditor.  
I'll to my study.  Org. 
I to contemplations:  
In these delightful walks— thus metamorphized,  
I may without suspicion harken after  
Penthea's usage, and Euphranea's faith:  
Love! thou art full of mystery: the Deities  
Themselves are not secure, in searching out  
The secrets of those flames, which hidden waste  
A breast, made tributary to the Laws  
Of beauty; Physic yet hath never found  
A remedy, to cure a lover's wound.  
Ha? who are those that cross your private walk  
Into the shadowing grove, in amorous foldings?  Prophilus passeth over, supporting Euphrania, and whispering. 
My Sister; o my Sister? 'tis Euphrania  
With Prophilus, supported too; I would  
It were an Apparition; Prophilus  
Is Ithocles his friend: It strangely puzzles me:  
Again? help me my book; this scholar's habit  
Must stand my privileges my mind is busy,  
Mine eyes, and ears are open. walk by reading.  Enter again Prophilus and Euphrania. Proph. 
Do not waste  
The span of this stolen time (sent by the gods  
For precious use) in niceness! Bright Euphrania,  
Should I repeat old vows, or study new,  
For purchase of belief to my desires—  Org. 
Desires?  Proph. 
My service, my integrity—  Org. 
That's better.  Proph. 
I should but repeat a lesson  
Oft conned without a prompter; but thine eyes,  
My Love is honourable—  Org. 
So was mine  
To my Penthea: chastely honourable.  Proph. 
Nor wants there more addition to my wish  
Of happiness, then having thee a wife,  
Already sure of Ithocles a friend,  
Firm, and unalterable.  Org. 
But a brother  
More cruel than the grave.  Euphr. 
What can you look for  
In answer to your noble protestations,  
From an unskilful maid, but language suited  
To a divided mind?  Org. 
Hold out Euphranea.  Euphr. 
Know Prophilus, I never undervalved  
(From the first time you mentioned worthy love)  
Your merit, means, or person: It had been  
A fault of judgement in me, and a dulness  
In my affections, not to weigh and thank  
My better Stars, that offered me the grace  
Of so much blissfulness. For to speak truth,  
The law of my desires kept equal pace  
With yours, nor have I left that resolution;  
But only in a word, whatever choice  
Lives nearest in my heart, must first procure  
Consent, both from my father, and my brother,  
ere he can own me his.  Org. 
She is forsworn else.  Proph. 
Leave me that task.  Euphr. 
My brother ere he parted  
To Athens, had my oath.  Org. 
Yes, yes, 'a had sure.  Proph. 
I doubt not with the means the Court supplies,  
But to prevail at pleasure.  Org. 
Very likely.  Proph. 
Mean tims best, dearest, I may build my hopes  
On the foundation of thy constant sufferance  
In any opposition.  Euphr. 
Death shall sooner  
Divorce life, and the joys I have in living,  
Than my chaste vows from truth.  Proph. 
On thy fair hand  
I seal the like.  Org. 
There is no faith in woman—  
Passion? o be contained: my very heart strings  
Are on the Tenters.  Euphr. 
Sir, we are overheard;  
Cupid protect us: 'twas a stirring (Sir)  
Of some one near.  Proph. 
Your fears are needless, Lady;  
None have access into these private pleasures,  
Except some near in Court, or bosom Student  
From Tecnicus his Oratory; granted  
By special favour lately from the King  
Unto the grave Philosopher.  Euphr. 
methinks  
I hear one talking to himself: I see him.  Proph. 
'Tis a poor Scholar, as I told you Lady.  Org. 
I am discovered— Say it: is it possible  
With a smooth tongue, a leering countenance,  
Flattery, or force of reason(— I come t'ee Sir)  
To turn, or to appease the raging Sea?  
Answer to that,— your Art? what Art to catch  
And hold fast in a net the sun's small atoms?  
No, no; they'll out, they'll out; ye may as easily  
Outrun a Cloud, driven by a Northern blast,  
As fiddle-faddle so. Peace, or speak sense.  Euphr. 
Call you this thing a Scholar? 'las he's lunatic.  Proph. 
Observe him (sweet) 'tis but his recreation.  Org. 
But will you hear a little Lion are so tetchy,  
You keep no rule in argument; Philosophy  
Works not upon impossibilities,  
But natural conclusions.— Mew?— absurd;  
The metaphysics are but speculations  
Of the celestial bodies, or such accidents  
As not mixed perfectly, in the Air engendered,  
Appear to us unnatural; that's all.  
Prove it;— yet with a reverence to your gravity,  
I'll balk illiterate sauciness, submitting  
My sole opinion to the touch of writers.  Proph. 
Now let us fall in with him.  Org. 
Ha ha ha.  
These Apish boys, when they but taste the Grammars,  
And principals of Theory, imagine  
They can oppose their teacher's Confidence  
Leads many into errors.  Proph. 
By your leave Sir.  Euphr. 
Are you a Scholar (friend?)  Org. 
I am (gay creature)  
With pardon of your Deities, a mushroom  
On whom the dew of heaven drops now and then:  
The Sun shines on me too, I thank his beams,  
Sometime I feel their warmth; and eat, and sleep.  Proph. 
Does Tecnicus read to thee?  Org. 
Yes forsooth,  
He is my master surely, yonder door  
Opens upon his Study.  Proph. 
Happy creatures;  
Such people toil not (sweet) in heats of State,  
Nor sink in thaws of greatness: Their affections  
Keep order with the limits of their modesty:  
Their love is love of virtue.— What's thy name?  Org. 
Aplotes (sumptuous master) a poor wretch.  Euphr. 
Dost thou want any thing?  Org. 
Books (Venus) books.  Proph. 
Lady, a new conceit comes in my thought,  
And most available for both our comforts.  Euphr. 
My Lord.—  Proph. 
Whiles I endeavour to deserve  
Your father's blessing to our loves, this Scholar  
May daily at some certain hours attend,  
What notice I can write of my success,  
Here in this grove, and give it to your hands:  
The like from you to me; so can we never,  
Barred of our mutual speech, want sure intelligence;  
And thus our hearts may talk when our tongues cannot.  Euphr. 
Occasion is most favourable, use it.  Proph. 
Aplotes, wilt thou wait us twice a day;  
At nine i'th' morning, and at four at night,  
Here in this Bower, to convey such letters  
As each shall send to other? Do it willingly,  
Safely, and secretly, and I will furnish  
Thy Study, or what else thou canst desire.  Org. 
jove make me thankful, thankful, I beseech thee  
Propitious jove, I will prove sure and trust  
You will not fail me books.  Proph. 
Nor ought besides  
Thy heart can wish. This lady's name's Euphranea,  
Mine Prophilus.  Org. 
I have a pretty memory,  
It must prove my best friend.— I will not miss  
One minute of the hours appointed.  Proph. 
Write  
The books thou wouldst have bought thee in a note,  
Or take thyself some money.  Org. 
No, no money:  
Money to Scholars is a spirit invisible,  
We dare not finger it; or books, or nothing.  Proph. 
Books of what sort thou wilt: do not forget  
Our names.  Org. 
I warrant 'ee, I warrant 'ee.  Proph. 
Smile Hymen on the growth of our desires,  
we'll feed thy torches with eternal fires. Exeunt. manet Org.  Org. 
Put out thy Torches Hymen, or their light  
Shall meet a darkness of eternal night.  
Inspire me Mercury with swift deceits;  
Ingenious Fate has leapt into mine arms,  
Beyond the compass of my brain.— Mortality  
Creeps on the dung of earth, and cannot reach  
The riddles, which are purposed by the gods.  
Great Arts best write themselves in their own stories,  
They die too basely, who outlive their glories. Exit.    

Actus Secundus:  

Scaena prima.  Enter Bassanes and Phulas. Bass. 
I'll have that window next the street damned up;  
It gives too full a prospect to temptation,  
And courts a gazer's glances: there's a lust  
Committed by the eye, that sweats, and travels,  
Plots, wakes, contrives, till the deformed bear-whelp  
Adultery be licked into the act,  
The very act; that light shall be damned up;  
D''ee hear Sir?  Phul. 
I do hear my Lord; a Mason  
Shall be provided suddenly.  Bass. 
Some Rogue,  
Some Rogue of your confederacy, (factor  
For slaves and strumpets) to convey close packets  
From this spruce springal, and the other youngster;  
That gaudy earwig, or my Lord, your Patron,  
Whose pensioner you are.— I'll tear thy throat out  
Son of a Cat, ill-looking Hounds-head; tip up  
Thy ulterous maw, if I but scant a paper,  
A scroll, but half as big as what can cover  
A wart upon thy nose, a spot, a pimple,  
Directed to my Lady: it may prove  
A mystical preparative to lewdness.  Phul. 
Care shall be had.— I will turn every thread  
About me to an eye.— here's a sweet life.  Bass. 
The City housewives, cunning in the traffic  
Of Chamber-merchandise, set all at price  
By wholesale, yet they wipe their mouths, and simper,  
Cull, kiss, and cry Sweetheart, and stroke the head  
Which they have branched, and all is well again:  
Dull clods of dirt, who dare not feel the rubs  
Stuck on the foreheads?  Phul. 
'Tis a villainous world,  
One cannot hold his own in't.  Bass. 
Dames at Court  
Who flaunt in riots, run another bias:  
Their pleasure heaves the patient Ass that suffers  
Up on the stilted of Office, titles, Incomes;  
Promotion justifies the shame, and sues for't:  
Poor Honour! thou art stabbed, and bleedest to death  
By such unlawful hire. The Country mistress  
Is yet more wary, and in blushes hides  
whatever trespass draws her troth to guilt;  
But all are false. On this truth I am bold,  
No woman but can fall, and doth, or would—  
Now for the newest news about the City;  
What blab the voices sirrah?  Phul. 
O my Lord,  
The rarest, quaintest, strangest, tickling news  
That ever—  Bass. 
hay da, up and ride me Rascal,  
What is't?  Phul. 
Forsooth (they say) the King has mewed  
All his grey beard, in stead of which is budded  
Another of a pure Carnation colour,  
Speckled with Green and Russet.  Bass. 
Ignorant block.  Phul. 
Yes truly, and 'tis talked about the streets,  
That since Lord Ithocles came home, the lions  
Never left roaring, at which noise the Beares  
Have danced their very hearts out.  Bass. 
Dance out thine too.  Phul. 
Besides, Lord Orgilus is fled to Athens  
Upon a fiery Dragon, and 'tis thought  
A' never can return.  Bass. 
Grant it Apollo.  Phul. 
Moreover, please your Lordship, 'tis reported  
For certain, that whoever is found jealous  
Without apparent proof that's wife is wanton,  
Shall be divorced: but this is but she-news,  
I had it from a midwife. I have more yet.  Bass. 
Antic, no more; Idiots and stupid fools  
Grate my calamities. Why to be fair  
Should yield presumption of a faulty soul?  
Look to the doors.  Phul. 
The horn of plenty crest him.  Exit Phul. Bass. 
swarms of confusion huddle in my thoughts  
In rare distemper. Beauty? o it is  
An unmatched blessing, or a horrid curse.  Enter Penthea, and Gransis an old Lady. 
she comes, she comes, so shoots the morning forth,  
Spangled with pearls of transparent dew,  
The way to poverty is to be rich;  
As I in her am wealthy, but for her  
In all contents a Bankrupt.— Loved Penthea,  
How fares my heart's best joy?  Gran. 
In sooth not well,  
She is so oversad.  Bass. 
Leave chattering Magpie.—  
Thy brother is returned (sweet) safe, and honoured  
With a Triumphant victory: thou shalt visit him:  
We will to Court, where, if it be thy pleasure,  
Thou shalt appear in such a ravishing lustre  
Of jewels above value, that the Dames  
Who brave it there, in rage to be outshined,  
Shall hide them in their Closets, and unseen  
Fret in their tears; whiles every wondering eye  
Shall crave none other brightness but thy presence.  
Choose thine own recreations, be a Queen  
Of what delights thou fanciest best, what company,  
What place, what times, do any thing, do all things  
Youth can command; so thou wilt chase these clouds  
From the pure firmament of thy fair looks  Gran. 
Now 'tis well said my Lord, what Lady? laugh,  
Be merry, time is precious.  Bass. 
Furies whip thee.  Pen. 
Alas my Lord, this language to your Handmaid  
Sounds as would music to the deaf: I need  
No braveries nor cost of Art, to draw  
The whiteness of my name into offence;  
Let such (if any such there are) who covet  
A curiosity of admiration,  
By laying out their plenty to full view,  
Appear in gaudy outsides; my attires  
Shall suit the inward fashion of my mind;  
From which, if your opinion nobly placed,  
Change not the Livery your words bestow,  
My Fortunes with my hopes are at the highest.  Bass. 
This house methinks stands somewhat too much inward  
It is too melancholy, we'll remove  
Nearer the Court; or what thinks my Penthea  
Of the delightful Island we command?  
Rule me as thou canst wish.  Pen. 
I am no Mistress;  
Whither you please, I must attend; all ways  
Are alike pleasant to me.  Gran. 
Island? prison:  
A prison is as gaysome: we'll no Islands:  
Marry out upon 'em, whom shall we see there?  
seagulls, and porpoises, and water-rats,  
And Crabs, and Mews, and Dogfish? goodly gear  
For a young Ladies dealing, or an old ones.  
On no terms Islands, I'll be stewed first.  Bass. 
Gransis,  
You are a juggling Bawd.— This sadness (sweetest)  
Becomes not youthful blood,— (I'll have you pounded)  
For my sake put on a more cheerful mirth,  
thou'lt mar thy cheeks, and make me old in griefs.  
— (Damnable bitch-fox.)  Gran. 
I am thick of hearing  
Still when the wind blows Southerly. What think 'ee,  
If your fresh Lady breed young bones (my Lord?)  
Wood not a chopping boy d''ee good at heart?  
But as you said,  Bass. 
 
Or chop thee into collops.  Gran. 
Pray speak louder.  
Sure, sure, the wind blows South still,  Pen. 
Thou prayest madly.  Bass. 
'Tis very hot, I sweat extreamely— Now.  Enter Phulas. Phul. 
A herd of Lords, Sir.  Bass. 
Ha?  Phul. 
A flock of Ladies.  Bass. 
Where?  Phul. 
Shoalds of horses.  Bass. 
Peasant, how?  Phul. 
Caroches  
In drifts— th'one enter, th'other stand without, sir.  
And now I vanish. Exit Phulas.  Enter Prophilus, Hemophil, Groneas, Christalla and Philena. Proph. 
Noble Bassanes.  Bass. 
Most welcome Prophilus, Ladies, Gentlemen,  
To all, my heart is open, you all honour me.  
(A tympany sways in my head already)  
Honour me bountifully.— (How they flutter,  
Wagtailes and Iayes together?)  Proph. 
From your brother,  
By virtue of your love to him, I require  
Your instant presence fairest  Pen. 
He is will Sir.  Proph. 
The gods preserve him ever: yet (dear beauty)  
I find some alteration in him lately,  
Since his return to Sparta. My good Lord,  
I pray use no delay.  Bass. 
We had not needed  
An invitation, if his sister's health  
Had not fallen into question.— Hast Penthea,  
Slack not a minute: lead the way good Prophilus,  
I'll follow step by step.  Proph. 
Your arm fair Madam.  Exeunt omnes sed Bass. & Gran. Bass. 
One word with your old Bawdship: th' hadst been better  
Railed at the sins thou worship'st, thou have thwarted  
My will. I'll use thee cursedly.  Gran. 
You dote.  
You are beside yourself. A Politician  
In jealousy? No, y'are too gross, too vulgar.  
Pish, teach not me my trade, I know my cue:  
My crossing you, sinks me into her trust,  
By which I shall know all: my trade's a sure one.  Bass. 
Forgive me, Gransis, 'twas consideration  
I relished not, but have a care now.  Gran. 
Fear not,  
I am no new-come-to't.  Bass. 
Thy life's upon it,  
And so is mine. My Agonies are infinite. Exeunt omnes:   

Scene 2.  Enter Ithocles alone. Itho. 
Ambition? 'tis of viper's breed, it gnaws  
A passage through the womb that gave it motion.  
Ambition? like a seeled Dove, mounts upward,  
Higher and higher still to perch on clouds,  
But tumbles headlong down with heavier ruin.  
So squibs and crackers fly into the air,  
Then only breaking with a noise, they vanish  
In stench and smoke: Morality applied  
To timely practice, keeps the soul in tune,  
At whose sweet music all our actions dance;  
But this is form of books, and school-tradition,  
It physics not the sickness of a mind  
Broken with griefs: strong Feauers are not eased  
With counsel, but with best receipts, and means:  
Means, speedy means, and certain; that's the cure.  Enter Armoster and Crotolon. Armo. 
You stick (Lord Crotolon) upon a point  
Too nice, and too unnecessary. Prophilus  
Is every way desertful. I am confident  
Your wisdom is too ripe to need instruction  
From your son's tutelage.  Crot. 
Yet not so ripe  
(My Lord Armoster) that it dares to dote  
Upon the painted meat of smooth persuasion,  
Which tempts me to breach of faith.  Itho. 
Not yet  
Resolved (my Lord?) why if your son's consent  
Be so available, we'll write to Athens  
For his repair to Sparta. The king's hand  
Will join with our desires, he has been moved to't.  Armo. 
Yes, and the King himself importuned Crotolon  
For a dispatch.  Crot. 
Kings may command, their will  
Are Laws not to be questioned.  Itho. 
By this marriage  
You knit an union so devout, so hearty,  
Between your loves to me, and mine to yours,  
As if mine own blood had an interest in it;  
For Prophilus is mine, and I am his.  Crot. 
My Lord, my Lord.  Ith. 
What, good Sir? speak your thought.  Crot. 
Had this sincerity been real once,  
My Orgilus had not been now unwived,  
Nor your lost Sister buried in a Bride bed.  
Your Uncle here, Armoster knows this truth,  
For had your father Thrasus lived, but peace  
Dwell in his grave: I have done.  Armo. 
Y'are bold and bitter.  Itho. 
'A presses home the injury, it smarts;  
No reprehensions Uncle, I deserve 'em.  
Yet gentle Sir, consider what the heat  
Of an unsteady youth a giddy brain,  
Green indiscretion, flattery of greatness,  
Rawness of judgement, wilfulness in folly,  
Thoughts vagrant as the wind, and as uncertain  
Might lead a boy in years too; 'twas a fault,  
A Capital fault, for then I could not dive  
Into the secrets of commanding Love:  
Since when, experience by the extremities (in others)  
Hath forced me to collect. And trust me Crotolon,  
I will redeem those wrongs with any service  
Your satisfaction can require for currant.  Armo. 
Thy acknowledgement is satisfaction.  
What would you more?  Crot. 
I'm conquered: if Euphranea  
herself admit the motion, let it be so.  
I doubt not my son's liking.  Itho. 
Use my fortunes,  
Life, power, sword, and heart, all are your own.  Enter Bassanes, Prophilus, Calantha, Penthea, Euphranea, Chrystalla, Philema, and Gransis. Armo. 
The Princess with your sister.  Calan. 
I present 'em  
A stranger here in Court (my Lord,) for did not  
Desire of seeing you, draw her abroad,  
We had not been made happy in her company.  Ith. 
You are a gracious Princess.— Sister, wedlock  
Holds too severe a passion in your nature,  
Which can engross all duty to your husband,  
Without attendance on so dear a mistress.  
'Tis not my brother's pleasure, I presume,  
T' immure her in a chamber.  Bass. 
'Tis her will,  
She governs her own hours; (noble Ithocles)  
We thank the gods for your success, and welfare.  
Our Lady has of late been indisposed,  
Else we had waited on you with the first.  Itho. 
How does Penthea now?  Pen. 
You best know brother,  
From whom my health and comfort are derived.  Bass. 
I like the answer well; 'tis sad, and modest;  
There may be tricks, yet, tricks.— Have an eye Gransis.  Calan. 
Now Crotolon, the suit we joined in must not  
Fall by too long demur.  Crot. 
'Tis granted, Princess,  
For my part.  Armo. 
With condition, that his son  
Favour the Contract.  Calan. 
Such delay is easy.  
The joys of marriage make thee, Prophilus,  
A proud deserver of Euphranea's love,  
And her of thy desert.  Proph. 
Most sweetly gracious.  Bass. 
The joys of marriage are the heaven on earth,  
Life's paradise (great Princess) the soul's quiet,  
Sinews of concord, earthly immortality,  
Eternity of pleasures; no restoratives  
Like to a constant woman.— (but where is she?  
'Twould puzzle all the gods, but to create  
Such a new monster.)— I can speak by proof,  
For I rest in Elysium, 'tis my happiness.  Crot. 
Euphrania how are you resolved, (speak freely)  
In your affections to this Gentleman?  Euphr: 
Nor more, nor less than as his love assures me,  
Which (if your liking with my brother's warrants)  
I cannot but approve in all points worthy.  Crot. 
So, so, I know your answer.  Ith. 
'T had been pity  
To sunder hearts so equally consented.  Enter Hemophill. Hem. 
The King (Lord Ithocles) commands your presence;  
And (fairest Princess) yours.  Calan. 
We will attend him.  Enter Groneas. Gron. 
Where are the Lords? all must unto the King  
Without delay: the Prince of Argos—  Calan. 
Well Sir.  Gron. 
Is coming to the Court, sweet Lady.  Calan. 
How!  
The Prince of Argos?  Gron. 
'Twas my fortune, Madam,  
T' enjoy the honour of these happy tidings.  Ith. 
Penthea!  Pen. 
Brother!  Ith. 
Let me an hour hence  
Meet you alone, within the Palace grove,  
I have some secret with you— prithee friend  
Conduct her thither, and have special care  
The walks be cleared of any to disturb us.  Proph. 
I shall.  Bass. 
How's that?  Ith. 
Alone, pray be alone.  
I am your creature, princess.— on my Lords. Exeunt.  Bassanes. Bass. 
Alone, alone? what means that word alone?  
Why might not I be there?— hum!— he's her brother;  
Brothers and sisters are but flesh and blood,  
And this same whoreson Court ease is temptation  
To a rebellion in the veins:— Besides,  
His fine friend Prophilus' must be her guardian.  
Why may not he dispatch a business nimbly  
Before the other come?— or— pandering, pandering,  
For one another? be't to sister, mother,  
Wife, Cousin, any thing, 'mongst youths of metal,  
Is in request: It is so— stubborn Fate:  
But if I be a Cuckold, and can know it,  
I will be fell, and fell.  Enter Groneas. Gron. 
My Lord, y'are called for.  Bass. 
Most heartily I thank ye, where's my wife pray?  Gron. 
Retired amongst the Ladies.  Bass. 
Still I thank 'ee:  
There's an old waiter with her, saw you her too?  Gron. 
She sits i'th' presence Lobby fast asleep sir.  Bass. 
Asleep? sleep Sir!  Gron, 
Is your Lordship troubled?  
You will not to the King?  Bass. 
Your humblest Vassal.  Gron. 
Your servant my good Lord.  Bass. 
I wait your foot steps.  Exeunt.  

Scene the third.  Prophilus, Penthea. Proph. 
In this walk (Lady) will your brother find you:  
And with your favour, give me leave a little  
To work a preparation, in his fashion  
I have observed of late, some kind of slackness  
To such alacrity as Nature  
And custom took delight in: Sadness grows  
Upon his recreations, which he he hoards  
In such a willing silence, that to question  
The grounds will argue skill in friendship,  
And less good manners.  Pen. 
Sir, I'm not inquisitive  
Of secrecies without an invitation.  Phoph. 
With pardon, Lady, not a syllable  
Of mine implies so rude a sense; the drift.—  Enter Orgilus. Proph. 
Do thy best  
To make this Lady merry for an hour. Exit.  Org. 
Your will shall be a law, Sir.  Pen. 
prithee leave me,  
I have some private thoughts I would account with:  
Use thou thine own.  Org. 
Speak on, fair nymph, our souls  
Can dance as well to music of the Spheres  
As any's who have feasted with the gods.  Pen. 
Your School terms are too troublesome.  Org. 
What heaven  
Refines mortality from dross of earth,  
But such as uncompounded beauty hallows  
With glorified perfection.  Pen. 
Set thy wits  
In a less wild proportion.  Org. 
Time can never  
On the white table of unguilty faith  
Write counterfeit dishonour; turn those eyes  
(The arrows of pure love) upon that fire  
Which once rose to a flame, perfumed with vows  
As sweetly scented as the License smoking like  
The holiest Altars, Virgin tears  
On Vesta's odours) sprinkled dews to feed 'em,  
And to increase their fervour.  Pen. 
Be not frantic.  Org. 
All pleasures are but mere imagination,  
Feeding the hungry appetite with steam,  
And sight of banquet, whilst the body pines,  
Not relishing the real taste of food,  
Such is the leanness of a heart divided  
From intercourse of troth-contracted lones;  
No horror should deface that precious figure  
Sealed with the lively stamp of equal souls.  Pen. 
Away, some fury hath bewitched thy tongue:  
The breath of ignorance that flies from thence,  
Ripens a knowledge in me of afflictions,  
Above all sufferance.— Thing of talk be gone,  
Be gone without reply.  Org. 
Be just, Penthea,  
In thy commands: when thou send'st forth a doom  
Of banishment, know first on whom it lights;  
Thus I take off the shroud, in which my cares  
Are folded up from view of common eyes;  
What is thy sentence next?  Pen. 
Rash man, thou layest  
A blemish on mine honour with the hazard  
Of thy too desperate life: yet I profess,  
By all the Laws of ceremonious wedlock,  
I have not given admittance to one thought  
Of female change, since cruelty enforced  
Divorce betwixt my body and my heart:  
Why would you fall from goodness thus?  Org. 
O rather  
Examine me how I could live to say  
I have been much, much wronged; 'tis for thy sake  
I put on this Imposture; dear Penthea,  
If thy soft bosom be not turned to marble,  
thou'lt pity our calamities; my Interest  
Confirms me thou art mine still.  Pen. 
Lend your hand:  
With both of mine I clasp it thus, thus kiss it,  
Thus kneel before ye.  Org. 
You instruct my duty.  Pen. 
We may stand up: Have you ought else to urge  
Of new demand? as for the old forget it,  
'Tis buried in an everlasting silence,  
And shall be, shall be ever; what more would ye?  Org. 
I would possess my wife, the equity  
Of very reason bids me.  Pen. 
Is that all?  Org. 
Why 'tis the all of me myself.  Pen. 
Remove  
Your steps some distance from me; at this space  
A few words I dare change; but first put on  
Your borrowed shape.  Org. 
You are obeyed, 'tis done.  Pen. 
How (Orgilus) by promise I was thine,  
The heavens do witness; they can witness too  
A rape done on my truth: how I do love thee  
Yet Orgilus, and yet, must best appear  
In tendering thy freedom; for I find  
The constant preservation of thy merit,  
By thy not daring to attempt my fame  
With injury of any loose conceit,  
Which might give deeper wounds to discontents:  
Continue this fair race, then though I cannot  
Add to thy comfort, yet I shall more often  
Remember from what fortune I am fallen,  
And pity mine own ruin.— Live, live happy.  
Happy in thy next choice, that thou mayst people  
This barren age with virtues in thy issue:  
And o, when thou art married, think on me  
With mercy, not contempt: I hope thy wife,  
Hearing my story, will not scorn my fall:  
Now let us part.  Org. 
Part! yet advise thee better:  
Penthea is the wife to Orgilus,  
And ever shall be.  Pen. 
Never shall nor will.  Org. 
How!  Pen. 
Hear me, in a word I'll tell thee why:  
The Virgin dowry which my birth bestowed,  
Is ravished by another: my true love  
Abhors to think, that Orgilus deserved  
No better favours than a second bed.  Org. 
I must not take this reason.  Pen. 
To confirm it,  
Should I outlive my bondage, let me meet  
Another worse than this, and less desired,  
If of all the men alive thou shouldst but touch  
My lip, or hand again.  Org. 
Penthea, now  
I tell 'ee you grow wanton in my sufferance;  
Come sweet, thouart mine.  Pen. 
uncivil Sir, forbear,  
Or I can turn affection into vengeance;  
Your reputation (if you value any)  
Lies bleeding at my feet. Unworthy man,  
If ever henceforth thou appear in language,  
Message, or letter to betray my frailty,  
I'll call thy former protestations lust,  
And curse my Stars for forfeit of my judgement.  
Go thou, sit only for disguise and walks,  
To hide thy shame: this once I spare thy life;  
I laugh at mine own confidence; my sorrows  
By thee are made inferior to my fortunes.  
If ever thou didst harbour worthy love,  
Dare not to answer. My good Genius guide me,  
That I may never see thee more.— Go from me.  Org. 
I'll tear my veil of politic French off,  
And stand up like a man resolved to do  
Action, not words shall show me. O Penthea. Exit Orgilus.  Pen. 
'A sighed my name sure as he parted from me,  
I fear I was too rough: Alas poor Gentleman,  
'A looked not like the ruins of his youth,  
But like the ruins of those ruins: Honour,  
How much we fight with weakness to preserve thee.  Enter Bassanes and Gransis. Bass. 
Fie on thee, damn thee, rotten maggot, damn thee,  
Sleep? sleep at Court? and now? Aches, convulsions,  
Impostumes, themes, gouts, palsies clog thy bones  
A dozen years more yet.  Gran. 
Now y'are in humours.  Bass. 
she's by herself, there's hope of that; she's sad too,  
she's in strong contemplation: yes, and fixed.  
The signs are wholesome.  Gran. 
Very wholesome truly.  Bass. 
Hold your chops night mare.— Lady, come your brother  
Is carried to his closet; you must thither.  Pen. 
Not well, my Lord?  Bass. 
A sudden fit, 'twill off;  
Some surfeit or disorder.— How dost dearest?  Pen. 
Your news is none o'th' best.  Enter Prophilus. Proph. 
The chief of men,  
The excellentest Ithocles, desires  
Your presence Madam.  Bass. 
We are hasting to him.  Pen. 
In vain we labour in this course of life  
To piece our journey out at length, or crave  
Respite of breath, our home is in the grave.  Bass. 
Perfect Philosophy: then let us care  
To live so that our reckonings may fall even  
When w' are to make account.  Proph. 
He cannot fear  
Who builds on noble grounds: sickness or pain  
Is the deservers exercise, and such  
Your virtuous brother to the world is known.  
Speak comfort to him Lady, be all gentle;  
Stars fall but in the grossness of our sight,  
A good man dying, th' Earth doth lose a light. Exeunt omnes.    

Actus Tertius:  

Scaena prima.  Enter Tecnicus, and Orgilus in his own shape. Tecn. 
BE well advised, let not a resolution  
Of giddy rashness choke the breath of reason.  Org. 
It shall not, most sage Master.  Tecn. 
I am jealous:  
For if the borrowed shape so late put on,  
Inferred a consequence, we must conclude  
Some violent design of sudden nature  
Hath shook that shadow off, to fly upon  
A new-hatched execution: Orgilus,  
Take heed thou hast not (under our integrity)  
Shrouded unlawful plots: our mortal eyes  
Pierce not the secrets of your hearts, the gods  
Are only privy to them.  Org. 
Learned Tecnicus,  
Such doubts are causeless, and to clear the truth  
From misconceit, the present State commands me.  
The Prince of Argos comes himself in person  
In quest of great Calantha for his Bride,  
Our kingdom's heir; beside, mine only sister  
Euphrania is disposed to Prophilus.  
Lastly, the King is sending letters for me  
To Athens, for my quick repair to Court.  
Please to accept these Reasons.  Tecn. 
Just ones, Orgilus,  
Not to be contradicted: yet beware  
Of an unsure foundation; no fair colours  
Can fortify a building faintly jointed.  
I have observed a growth in thy aspect  
Of dangerous extent, sudden, and (look to't)  
I might add certain—  Org. 
My aspect? could Art  
Run through mine inmost thoughts, it should not sift  
An inclination there, more than what suited  
With justice of mine honour.  Tecn. 
I believe it.  
But know then Orgilus what honour is:  
Honour consists not in a bare opinion  
By doing any act that feeds content;  
Brave in appearance, 'cause we think it brave:  
Such honour comes by accident, not nature  
Proceeding from the vices of our passion  
Which makes our reason drunk. But real Honour  
Is the reward of virtue, and acquired  
By justice or by valour, which for Bases  
Hath justice to uphold it. He then fails  
In honour, who for lucre of Revenge  
Commits thefts, murders, Treasons and Adulteries,  
With such like, by entrenching on just Laws,  
Whose sovereignty is best preserved by justice.  
Thus as you see how honour must be grounded  
On knowledge, not opinion: For opinion  
Relies on probability and Accident,  
But knowledge on Necessity and Truth:  
I leave thee to the fit consideration  
Of what becomes the grace of real Honour.  
Wishing success to all thy virtuous meanings.  Org. 
The gods increase thy wisdom (reverend Oracle)  
And in thy precepts make me ever thrifty. Exit Org.  Tecn. 
I thank thy wish.— Much mystery of Fate  
Lies hid in that man's fortunes, Curiosity  
May lead his actions into rare attempts;  
But let the gods be moderators still,  
No humane power can prevent their will.  Enter Armostes. 
From whence come 'ee?  Armo, 
From King Amyclas; (pardon  
My interruption of your Studies)— Here  
In this sealed box he sends a treasure dear  
To him as his Crown, 'a prays your gravity  
You would examine, ponder, sift and bolt  
The pith and circumstance of every tittle  
The scroll within contains.  Tecn. 
What is't Armostes?  Armo. 
It is the health of Sparta, the king's life,  
Sinews and safety of the Commonwealth,  
The sum of what the Oracle delivered,  
When last he visited the prophetic Temple  
At Delphos; what his reasons are for which  
After so long a silence he requires  
You counsel now (grave man) his majesty  
Will soon himself acquaint you with.  Tecn. 
Apollo  
Inspire my Intellect.— The Prince of Argos  
Is entertained.  Armo. 
He is, and has demanded  
Our Princess for his wife; which I conceive  
One special cause the King importunes you  
For resolution of the Oracle.  Tecn. 
My duty to the King, good peace to Sparta,  
And fair day to Armostes.  Armo. 
Like to Tecnicus.  Exeunt. 

Soft Music. A Song.  
CAn you paint a thought? or number  
Every fancy in a slumber?  
Can you count soft minutes roving  
From a dial's point by moving?  
Can you grasp a sigh? or lastly,  
Rob a virgin's honour chastely?  
No, o no; yet you may  
Sooner do both that and this,  
This and that, and never miss,  
Then by any praise display  
Beauty's beauty, such a glory  
As beyond all Fate, all Story,  
All arms, all arts,  
All loves, all hearts,  
Greater than those, or they,  
Do, shall, and must obey.   During which time, Enters Prophilus, Bassanes, Penthea, Gransis, passing over the Stage; Bassanes and Gransis enter again softly, stealing to several stands, and listen. Bass. 
All silent, calm, secure.— Gransis, no creaking?  
No noise; dost hear nothing?  Grans. 
Not a mouse,  
Or whisper of the wind.  Bass. 
The floor is matted,  
The bedposts sure are steel or marble.— Soldiers  
Should not affect( methinks) strains so effeminate;  
Sounds of such delicacy are but fawnings  
Upon the sloth of Luxury: they heighten  
Cinders of covert lust up to a flame.  Grans. 
What do you mean (my Lord) speak low; that gambling  
Of yours will but undo us.  Bass. 
Chamber-combats  
Are felt, not hard.  Pro. 
A wakes.  Bas. 
What's that?  Ith. 
Who's there  
Sister? all quit the room else.  Bass. 
'Tis consented.  Enter Prophilus. Proph. 
Lord Bassanes, your brother would be private,  
We must forbear; his sleep hath newly left him.  
Please 'ee withdraw?  Bass. 
By any means, 'tis fit.  Proph. 
Pray Gentlewoman walk too.  Gran. 
Yes, I will Sir.  Exeunt omnes. Ithocles discovered in a Chair, and Penthea. Itho. 
Sit nearer sister to me, nearer yet;  
We had one Father, in one womb took life,  
Were brought up twins together, yet have lived  
At distance like two strangers. I could wish  
That the first pillow whereon I was cradled,  
Had proved to me a grave.  Pen. 
You had been happy:  
Then had you never known that sin of life  
Which blots all following glories with a vengeance,  
For forfeiting the last will of the dead,  
From whom you had your being.  Itho. 
Sad Penthea,  
Thou canst not be too cruel; my rash spleen  
Hath with a violent hand plucked from thy bosom  
A lover-blessed heart, to grind it into dust,  
For which mine's now a breaking.  Pen. 
Not yet, heaven  
I do beseech thee: first let some wild fires  
Scorch, not consume it; may the heat be cherished  
With desires infinite, but hopes impossible.  Itho. 
Wronged soul, thy prayers are heard.  Pen. 
Here lo I breathe  
A miserable creature led to ruin  
By an unnatural brother.  Itho. 
I consume  
In languishing affections for that trespass,  
Yet cannot die.  Pen. 
The handmaid to the wages,  
The untroubled of Country toil, drinks streams  
With leaping kids, and with the bleating lambs;  
And so alleys her thirst secure, whiles I  
Quench my hot sighs with fleerings of my tears.  Itho. 
The labourer doth eat his coursest bread,  
Earned with his sweat, and lies him down to sleep;  
Which every bit I touch turns in digestion  
To gall, as bitter as Penthea's curse.  
Put me to any penance for my tyranny,  
And I will call thee merciful.  Pen. 
Pray kill me,  
Rid me from living with a jealous husband,  
Than we will join in friendship, be again  
Brother and sister.— Kill me pray: nay, will 'ee?  Itho. 
How does thy Lord esteem thee?  Pen. 
Such an one  
As only you have made me; a faith-breaker,  
A spotted whore, forgive me; I am one  
In art, not in desires, the gods must witness.  Itho. 
Thou dost belye thy friend.  Pen. 
I do not Ithocles;  
For she that's wife to Orgilus, and lives  
In known Adultery with Bassanes,  
Is at the best a whore. Wilt kill me now?  
The ashes of our parents will assume  
Some dreadful figure, and appear to charge  
Thy bloody gilt, that hast betrayed their name  
To infamy, in this reproachful match.  Itho. 
After my victories abroad, at home  
I meet despair; ingratitude of nature  
Hath made my actions monstrous: thou shalt stand  
A Deity (my sister) and be worshipped,  
For thy resolve martyrdom: wronged maids,  
And married wives shall to thy hallowed shrine  
Offer their orisons, and sacrifice  
Pure Turtles crowned with myrtle, if thy pity  
Unto a yielding brother's pressure, lend  
One finger but to ease it.  Pen. 
O no more.  Itho. 
Death waits to waft me to the Stygian banks,  
And free me from this Chaos of my bondage,  
And till thou wilt forgive, I must endure.  Pen. 
Who is the Saint you serve?  Itho. 
Friendship, or  
Of birth to any but my sister, durst not  
Have moved that question as a secret, Sister:  
I dare not murmur to myself.  Pen. 
Let me,  
By your new protestations I conjure 'ee,  
Partake her name.  Itho. 
Her name,— 'tis,— 'tis, I dare not.  Pen. 
All your respects are forged.  Itho. 
They are not.— Peace  
Calantha is the Princess, the king's daughter,  
Sole heir of Sparta— Me most miserable,  
Do I now love thee? for my injury's  
Revenge thyself with bravery, and gossip  
My treasons to the king's ears. Do; Calantha  
Knows it not yet, nor Prophilus my nearest.  Penth. 
Suppose you were contracted to her, would it not  
Split even your very soul to see her father  
Snatch her out of your arms against her will,  
And force her on the Prince of Argos?  Itho. 
Trouble not  
The fountains of mine eyes with thine own story,  
I sweat in blood for't.  Pen. 
We are reconciled:  
Alas, Sir, being children, but two branches  
Of one stock, 'tis not fit we should divide:  
Have comfort, you may find it.  Itho. 
Yes in thee:  
Only in thee Penthea mine.  Pen. 
If sorrows  
Have not too much dulled my infected brain,  
I'll cheer invention for an active strain.  Itho. 
Mad man! why have I wronged a maid so excellent?  Enter Bassanes with a poniard, Prophilus, Groneas, Hemophill and Gransis. Bass. 
I can forbear no longer: more, I will not;  
Keep off your hands, or fall upon my point:  
Patience is tired, for like a slow-paced Ass  
Ye ride my easy nature, and proclaim  
My sloth to vengeance, a reproach and property.  Itho. 
The meaning of this rudeness.  Proph. 
he's distracted.  Pen. 
O my grieved Lord.  Grans. 
Sweet Lady come not near him;  
He holds his perilous weapon in his hand  
To prick 'a cares not whom, nor where,— see, see, see.  Bass. 
My birth is noble, though the popular blast  
Of vanity, as giddy as thy youth,  
Hath reared thy name up to bestride a cloud,  
Or progress in the Chariot of the Sun;  
I am no clod of trade, to lackey pride,  
Nor like your slave of expectation wait  
The bawdy hinges of your doors, or whistle  
For mystical conveyance to your bed-sports.  Gron. 
Fine humours, they become him.  Hem. 
How 'a stares,  
Struts, puffs, and sweats: most admirable lunacy?  Itho. 
But that I may conceive the spirit of wine  
Has took possession of your soberer custom,  
I'd say you were unmannerly.  Pen. 
Dear brother.  Bass. 
Unmannerly— Mew Kitling— smooth formality  
Is usher to the rankness of the blood,  
But Impudence bears up the train: Indeed, sir,  
Your fiery mettle, or your springal blaze  
Of huge renown, is no sufficient Royalty  
To print upon my forehead the scorn Cuckold.  Itho. 
His jealousy has robbed him of his wits,  
'A talks 'a knows not what.  Bass. 
Yes, and 'a knows  
To whom 'a talks; to one that franks his lust  
In Swine-security of bestial incest.  Ith. 
Hah devil.  Bass. 
I will hallo't, though I blush more  
To name the filthiness, than thou to act it.  Ith. 
Monster!  Proph. 
Sir by our friendship.  Pen. 
By our bloods,  
Will you quite both undo us, Brother?  Grans. 
Out on him,  
These are his megrims, firks and melancholies.  Hem. 
Well said, old Touchhole.  Gron. 
Kick him out at doors.  Pen. 
With favour let me speak.— My Lord? what slackness  
In my obedience hath deserved this rage?  
Except humility and sin lent duty  
Have drawn on your unquiet, my simplicity  
ne'er studied your vexation.  Bass. 
Light of beauty,  
Deal not ungently with a desperate wound!  
No breach of reason dares make war with her  
Whose looks are sovereignty, whose breath is balm  
O that I could preserve thee in fruition  
As in devotion!  Pen. 
Sir, may every evil  
Locked in Pandora's box; shower (in your presence)  
On my unhappy head, if since you made me  
A partner in your bed, I have been faulty  
In one unseemly thought against your honour.  Ithoc 
Purge not his griefs, Penthea.  Bass. 
Yes, say on,  
Excellent creature— Good be not a hindrance  
To peace, and praise of virtue.— O my senses  
Are charmed with sounds celestial.— On, dear, on:  
I never gave you one ill word; say, did I?  
Indeed I did not.  Pen. 
Nor, by juno's forehead,  
Was I e'er guilty of a wanton error.  Bass. 
A goddess, let me kneel.  Grans. 
Alas kind Animal.  Itho. 
No, but for penance.  Bass. 
Noble sir, what is it?  
With gladness I embrace it; yet pray let not  
My rashness teach you to be too unmerciful.  Itho. 
When you shall show good proof that manly wisdom,  
Not overswayed by passion, or opinion,  
Knows how to lead judgement; then this Lady  
Your wife, my sister, shall return in safety  
Home to be guided by you, but till first  
I can, out of clear evidence approve it,  
She shall be my care.  Bass. 
Rip my bosom up,  
I'll stand the execution with a constancy:  
This torture is unsufferable.  Itho. 
Well Sir,  
I dare not trust her to your fury.  Bass. 
But  
Penthea says not so.  Pen. 
She needs no tongue  
To plead excuse, who never purposed wrong.  Hemo. 
Virgin of reverence and antiquity  
Stay you behind.  Gron. 
The Court wants not your diligence.  Exeunt omnes, sed Bass. & Grans. Grans. 
What will you do my Lord? my Lady's gone,  
I am denied to follow.  Bass. 
I may see her.  
Or speak to her once more.  Grans. 
And feel her too, man,  
Be of good cheer, she's your own flesh and bone.  Bass. 
Diseases desperate must find cures alike:  
She swore she has been true.  Grans. 
True on my modesty.  Bass. 
Let him want truth who credits not her vows;  
Much wrong I did her, but her brother infinite;  
Rumor will voice me the contempt of manhood,  
Should I run on thus. Some way I must try  
To outdo Art, and cry a jealousy. Exeunt omnes.  Flourish. Enter Amyclas, Nearchus leading Calantha, Armostes, Crotolon, Euphranea, Christalla, Philema, and Amelus. Amy. 
cousin of Argos, what the heavens have pleased  
In their unchanging Counsels to conclude  
For both our kingdom's weal, we must submit to:  
Nor can we be unthankful to their bounties,  
Who when we were even creeping to our graves,  
Sent us a daughter; in whose birth, our hope  
Continues of succession: As you are  
In title next, being grandchild to our Aunt,  
So we in heart desire you may sit nearest  
Calantha's love; since we have ever vowed  
Not to enforce affection by our will,  
But by her own choice to confirm it gladly.  Near. 
You speak the nature of a right just father:  
I come not hither roughly to demand  
My cousin's thraldom, but to free mine own:  
Report of great Calantha's beauty, virtue,  
Sweetness, and singular perfections, courted  
All ears to credit what I find was published  
By constant truth: from which if any service  
Of my desert can purchase fair construction,  
This Lady must command it.  Calan. 
Princely Sir,  
So well you know how to profess observance  
That you instruct your hearers to become  
Practitioners in duty; of which number  
I'll study to be chief.  Near. 
Chief, glorious Virgin,  
In my devotions, as in all men's wonder.  Amy. 
Excellent cousin, we deny no liberty;  
Use thine own opportunities.— Armostes,  
We must consult with the Philosophers,  
The business is of weight.  Armost. 
Sir, at your pleasure.  Amy. 
You told me, Crotolon, your son's returned  
From Athens? wherefore comes 'a not to Covet  
As we commanded?  Crot. 
He shall soon attend  
Your royal will, great Sir.  Amy. 
The marriage  
Between young Prophilus and Euphranea,  
Tafts of too much delay:  Crot. 
My Lord.  Amy. 
Some pleasures  
At celebration of it would give life  
To th' entertainment of the Prince our kinsman  
Our Court wears gravity more than we relish.  Armo. 
Yet the heaven's smile on all your high attempts,  
Without a Cloud.  Crot. 
So may the gods protect us.  Calan. 
A Prince, a subject?  Near. 
Yes, to beauty's sceptre  
As all hearts kneel so mine.  Calan. 
You are too Courtly.  To them, Ithocles, Orgilus, Prophilus Itho. 
Your safe return to Sparta is most welcome,  
I joy to meet you here, and as occasion  
Shall grant us privacy, will yield you reasons  
Why I should covet to deserve the title  
Of your respected friend: for without Compliment  
Believe it, Orgilus, 'tis my ambition.  Org. 
Your Lordship may command me your poor servant.  Itho. 
So amorously close close?— so soon?— my heart!  Proph. 
What sudden change is next?  Itho. 
Life to the King,  
To whom I here present this Noble gentleman,  
New come from Athens; Royal Sir, vouchsafe  
Your gracious hand in favour of his merit.  Crot. 
My son preferred by Ithocles!  Amy. 
Our bounties  
Shall open to thee Orgilus; for instance,  
Hark in thine ear; if out of those inventions  
Which flow in Athens, thou hast there engrossed  
Some rarity of wit to grace the Nuptials  
Of thy fair sister, and renown our Court  
In th' eyes of this young Prince, we shall be debtor  
To thy conceit, think on't  Org. 
Your Highness honours me.  Near. 
My tongue and heart are twins.  Calan. 
A noble birth  
Becoming such a father.— worthy Orgilus,  
You are a guest most wished for.  Org. 
May my duty  
Still rise in your opinion, sacred Princess.  Itho. 
Euphranea's brother, sir, a Gentleman  
Well worthy of your knowledge.  Near. 
We embrace him,  
Proud of so dear acquaintance.  Amy. 
All prepare  
For Revels and disport: the joys of Hymen,  
Like Phoebus in his lustre, puts to flight  
All mists of dulness; crown the hours with gladness:  
No sounds but music, no discourse but mirth.  Calan. 
Thine arm I prithee Ithocles.— Nay, good  
My Lord keep on your way, I am provided.  Near. 
I dare not disobey.  Itho. 
Most heavenly Lady. Exeunt.  Enter Crotolon, Orgilus. Crot. 
The King hath spoke his mind.  Org. 
His will he hath;  
But were it lawful to hold plea against  
The power of greatness, not the reason, haply  
Such under-shrubs as subjects, sometimes might  
Borrow of Nature, justice, to inform  
That licence sovereignty holds without check  
Over a meek obedience.  Crot. 
How resolve you  
Touching your sister's marriage? Prophilus  
Is a deserving, and a hopeful youth.  Org. 
I envy not his merit, but applaud it:  
Could with him thrift in all his best desires,  
And with a willingness enleague our blood  
With his, for purchase of full growth in friendship  
He never touched on any wrong that maliced  
The honour of our house, nor stirred our peace;  
Yet, with your favour, let me not forget  
Under whose wing he gathers warmth and comfort,  
Whose creature he is bound, made, and must live so.  Crot. 
Son, son, I find in thee a harsh condition,  
No courtesy can win it; 'tis too rancorous.  Org. 
Good Sir be not severe in your construction,  
I am no stranger to such easy calms  
As sit in tender bosoms: Lordly Ithocles  
Hath graced my entertainment in abundance;  
Too humbly hath descended from that height  
Of arrogance and spleen which wrought the rape  
On grieved Penthea's purity; his scorn  
Of my untoward fortunes is reclaimed  
Unto a courtship, almost to a fawning:  
I'll kiss his foot, since you will have it so.  Crot. 
Since I will have it so? Friend I will have it so  
Without our ruin by your politic plots,  
Or Wolf of hatred snarling in your breasts  
You have a spirit, Sir, have ye? a familiar  
That posts i'th' air for your intelligence?  
Some such Hobgoblin hurried you from Athens,  
For yet you come unsent for.  Org. 
If unwelcome,  
I might have found a grave there.  Crot. 
Sure your business  
Was soon dispatched, or your mind altered quickly.  Org. 
'Twas care, Sir, of my health, cut short my journey;  
For there, a general infection  
Threatens a desolation.  Crot. 
And I fear  
Thou hast brought back a worse infection with thee,  
Infection of my mind; which, as thou sayst,  
Threatens the desolation of our family.  Org. 
Forbid it our dear Genius, I will rather  
Be made a Sacrifice on Thrasus' monument,  
Or kneel to Ithocles his son in dust,  
Then woo a father's curse: My sister's marriage  
With Prophilus, is from my heart confirmed:  
May I live hated, may I die despised,  
If I omit to further it in all  
That can concern me.  Crot. 
I have been too rough,  
My duty to my King made me so earnest;  
Excuse it Orgilus.  Org. 
Dear Sir.  Enter to them Prophilus, Euphranea, Ithocles, Groneas, Hemophil. Crot. 
Here comes  
Euphranea, with Prophilus and Ithocles.  Org. 
Most honoured— ever famous.  Itho. 
Your true friend,  
On earth not any truer.— With smooth eyes  
Look on this worthy couple, your consent  
Can only make them one.  Org. 
They have it.— Sister,  
Thou pawnedst to me an oath, of which engagement  
I never will release thee, if thou aim'st  
At any other choice than this.  Euphr. 
Dear brother,  
At him or none.  Crot. 
To which my blessing's added.  Org. 
Which till a greater ceremony perfect,  
Euphrania lend thy hand; here take her Prophilus,  
Live long a happy man and wife; and further,  
That these in presence may conclude an omen,  
Thus for a Bridal song I close my wishes:  
Comforts lasting, Loves increasing,  
Like soft hours never ceasing;  
Plenty's pleasure, peace complying  
Without jars, or tongues envying;  
Hearts by holy Union wedded  
More than theirs by custom bedded;  
Fruitful issues: life so graced,  
Not by age to be defaced;  
Budding, as the year ensu'th,  
Every spring another youth:  
All what thought can add beside,  
Crown this Bridegroom and this Bride.  Proph. 
You have sealed joy close to my soul: Euphranea,  
Now I may call thee mine.  Itho. 
ay but exchange  
One good friend for another.  Org. 
If these Gallants  
Will please to grace a poor invention,  
By joining with me in some slight device,  
I'll venture on a strain, my younger days  
Have studied for delight.  Hom. 
With thankful willingness  
I offer my attendance.  Gron. 
No endeavour  
Of mine shall fail to show itself.  Itho. 
We will  
All join to wait on thy directions, Orgilus.  Org. 
O my good Lord, your favours flow towards  
A too unworthy worm; but as you please,  
I am what you will shape me.  Itho. 
A fast friend.  Crot. 
I thank thee son for this acknowledgment,  
It is a sight of gladness.  Org. 
But my duty. Exeunt omnes.  Enter Calantha, Penthea, Christalla, Philema. Calan. 
whoe'er would speak with us deny his entrance.  
Be careful of our charge.  Christ 
We shall madam.  Calan. 
Except the King himself, give none admittance,  
Not any.  Phil. 
Madam it shall be our care. Exeunt  Calantha, Penthea. Calan. 
Being alone, Penthea, you have granted  
The opportunity you sought, and might  
At all times have commanded.  Pen. 
'Tis a benefit  
Which I shall owe your goodness even in death for:  
My glass of life (sweet Princess hath few minutes  
Remaining to run down; the sands are spent;  
For by an inward messenger I feel  
The summons of departure short and certain.  Calan. 
You feed too much your melancholy.  Pen. 
Glories  
Of humane greatness are but pleasing dreams,  
And shadows soon decaying: on the stage  
Of my mortality, my youth hath acted  
Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length  
By varied pleasures, sweetened in the mixture,  
But Tragical in issue; Beauty, pomp,  
With every sensuality our giddiness  
Doth frame an Idol, are unconstant friends  
When any troubled passion makes assault  
On the unguarded Castle of the mind.  Calan. 
Contemn not your condition, for the proof  
Of bare opinion only: to what end  
Reach all these Moral texts?  Pen. 
To place before 'ee  
A perfect mirror, wherein you may see  
How weary I am of a lingering life,  
Who count the best a misery.  Calan. 
Indeed  
You have no little cause; yet none so great  
As to distrust a remedy.  Pen. 
That remedy  
Must be a winding sheet, a sold of lead,  
And some untrod-on corner in the earth.  
Not to detain your expectation, Princess,  
I have an humble suit.  Calan. 
Speak, I enjoy it.  
Vouchsafe then to be my Executrix,  
And take that trouble of 'ee, to dispose  
Such Legacies, as I bequeath impartially  
I have not much to give, the pains are easy,  
Heaven will reward your piety, and thank it  
When I am dead; for sure I must not live,  
I hope I cannot.  Calan. 
Now beshrew thy sadness;  
Thou turn'st me too much woman.  Pen. 
Her fair eyes  
Melt into passion; Then I have assurance  
Encouraging my boldness.— In this paper  
My Will was Charactered; which you, with pardon,  
Shall now know from mine own mouth.  Calan. 
Talk on, prithee,  
It is a pretty earnest.  Pen. 
I have left me  
But three poor jewels to bequeath; The first is  
My youth; for though I am much old in griefs,  
In years I am a child.  Calan. 
To whom that?  Pen. 
To Virgin wives, such as abuse not wedlock  
By freedom of desires, but covet chiefly  
The pledges of chaste beds, for ties of love,  
Rather than ranging of their blood And next  
To married maids, such as prefer the number  
Of honourable issue in their virtues,  
Before the flattery of delights by marriage,  
May those be ever young.  Calan. 
A second jewel  
You mean to part with.  Pen. 
'Tis my Fame, I trust,  
By scandal yet untouched; this I bequeath  
To memory, and Times old daughter Truth:  
If ever my unhappy name find mention  
When I am fall'n to dust, may it deserve  
Be seeming charity without dishonour.  Calan. 
How handsomely thou play'st with harmless sport  
Of mere imagination; speak the last,  
I strangely like thy will.  Pen. 
This jewel, Madam,  
Is dearly precious to me; you must use  
The best of your discretion to employ  
This gift as I intend it.  Calan. 
Do not doubt me.  Pen. 
'Tis long ago since first I lost my heart,  
Long I have lived without it, else for certain  
I should have given that too; but instead  
Of it, to great Calantha, Sparta's heir,  
By service bound, and by affection vowed,  
I do bequeath in holy rites of love  
Mine only brother Ithocles.  Calan. 
What saidst thou?  Pen. 
Impute not, heaven-blessed Lady, to ambition,  
A faith as humbly perfect as the prayers  
Of a devoted suppliant can endow it?  
Look on him, Princess, with an eye of pity;  
How like the ghost of what he late appeared  
A' moves before you.  Calan. 
Shall I answer here,  
Or lend my ear too grossly?  Pen. 
First, his heart  
Shall fall in Cinders, scorched by your disdain,  
ere he will dare, poor man; to ope an eye  
On these divine looks, but with low-bent thoughts  
Accusing such presumption; as for words,  
A' dares not utter any but of service:  
Yet this lost creature loves 'ee.— Be a princess  
In sweetness as in blood; give him his doom,  
Or raise him up to comfort.  Calan. 
What new change  
Appears in my behaviour, that thou dar'st  
Tempt my displeasure?  Pen. 
I must leave the world  
To revel Elysium, and 'tis just  
To wish my brother some advantage here:  
Yet by my best hopes, Ithocles is ignorant  
Of this pursuit. But if you please to kill him,  
Lend him one angry look, or one harsh word,  
And you shall soon conclude how wrong a power  
Your absolute authority holds over  
His life and end.  Calan. 
You have forgot, Penthea,  
How still I have a father.  Pen. 
But remember  
I am a sister, though to me this brother  
Hath been you know unkind most unkind!  Calan. 
Christalla, Philema, where are 'ee?— Lady,  
Your check lies in my silence.  Both. 
Madam, here.  Calan. 
I think 'ee sleep, 'ee drones; wait on Penthea  
Unto her lodging.— Ithocles' wronged Lady!  Pen. 
My reckonings are made even, Death or Fate  
Can now nor strike too soon, nor force too late. Exeunt.    

Actus Quartus:  

Scaena prima.  Enter Ithocles and Armostes. Itho. 
Forbear your Inquisition; curiosity  
Is of too subtle, and too searching nature:  
In fears of love too quick; too slow of credit:  
I am not what you doubt me.  Arm. 
Nephew, be then  
As I would wish;— all is not right,— Good heaven  
Confirm your Resolutions for dependence  
On worthy end which may advance your quiet.  Ith. 
I did the Noble Orgilus much injury,  
But grieved Penthea more: I now repent it;  
Now, Uncle, now; this Now, is now too late:  
So provident is folly in sad issue,  
That afterwit, like Bankrupts debts, stand tallied  
Without all possibilities of payment:  
Sure he's an honest, very honest Gentleman;  
A man of single meaning.  Arm. 
I believe it:  
Yet Nephew, 'tis the tongue informs our cares;  
Our eyes can never pierce into the thoughts,  
For they are lodged too inward:— but I question  
No truth in Orgilus.— The Princess (Sir)  Ith. 
The Princess? ha?  Arm. 
With her the Prince of Argos.  Enter Nearchus leading Calantha, Amelus, Christalla, Philema. Near. 
Great (fair one) grace my hopes with any instance  
Of Livery, from the allowance of your favour,  
This little spark.  Cal. 
A Toy.  Near. 
Love feasts on Toys,  
For Cupid is a child,— vouchsafe this bounty  
It cannot denied.  Calan. 
You shall not value  
(Sweet cousin) at a price what I count cheap,  
So cheap, that let him take it who dares stoop for't,  
And give it at next meeting to a Mistress,  
she'll thank him for't, perhaps. Casts it to Ithocles.  Ame. 
The Ring, Sir, is  
The princess's, I could have took it up.  Ith. 
Learn manners, prithee.— To the blessed owner  
Upon my knees.  Near. 
Y'are saucy.  Cal. 
This is pretty,  
I am, belike, a Mistress.— wondrous pretty:  
Let the man keep his fortune, since he found it;  
He's worthy on't.— On cousin.  Ith. 
Follow Spaniel.  
I'll force 'ee to a fawning else.  Ame. 
You dare not.  Exeunt. Manent Itho. & Armost. Arm. 
My Lord, you were too forward.  Ith. 
look'ee Uncle:  
Some such there are whose liberal contents  
Swarm without care in every sort of plenty;  
Who, after full repasts, can say them down  
To sleep; and they sleep, Uncle: in which silence  
Their very dreams present 'em choice of pleasures:  
Pleasures (observe me Uncle) of rare object:  
Here heaps of gold, there Increments of honours;  
Now change of garments, then the votes of people;  
Anon varieties of beauties, courting  
In flatteries of the night, exchange of dalliance,  
Yet these are still but dreams: give me felicity  
Of which my senses waking are partakers;  
A real, visible, material happiness:  
And then too, when I stagger in expectance  
Of the least comfort that can cherish life:  
I saw it (Sir) I saw it; for it came  
From her own hand.  Arm. 
The Princess threw it t'ee:  Itho. 
True, and she said— well I remember what.  
Her cousin Prince would beg it.  Arm. 
Yes, and parted  
In anger at your taking on't.  Ith. 
Penthea!  
Oh thou hast pleaded with a powerful language.  
I want a fee to gratify thy merit.  
But I will do—  Arm. 
What is't you say?  Itho. 
In anger,  
In anger let him part; for could his breath,  
Like whirlwinds, toss such servile slaves as lick  
The dust his footsteps print, into a vapour,  
It durst not stir a hair of mine; It should not,  
I'd rend it up by th' roots first. To be any thing  
Calantha smiles on, is to be a blessing  
More sacred than a petty-Prince of Argos  
Can wish to equal, or in worth or Title.  Arm. 
Contain yourself, my Lord, Ixion aiming  
To embrace juno, bosomed but a cloud,  
And begat centaurs: 'tis an useful moral,  
Ambition hatched in clouds of mere opinion,  
Proves but in birth a prodigy.  Itho. 
I thank 'ee;  
Yet, with your Licence, I should seem uncharitable  
To gentler Fate, if relishing the dainties  
Of a soul's settled peace, I were so feeble  
Not to digest it.  Arm. 
He deserves small trust  
Who is not privy Counsellor to himself.  Enter Nearchus, Orgilus, and Amelus. Near. 
Brave me?  Org. 
Your Excellence mistakes his temper,  
For Ithocles in fashion of his mind  
Is beautiful, soft, gentle, the clear mirror  
Of absolute perfection.  Amel. 
Was't your modesty  
Termed any of the Prince his servant's Spaniel?  
Your Nurse sure taught you other language.  Itho. 
Language.  Near. 
A gallant Man at arms is here: a Doctor  
In feats of Chivalry; blunt, and rough spoken,  
Vouchsafing not the fustian of civility,  
Which rash spirits style good manners.  Ith. 
Manners.  Org. 
No more (Illustrious Sir) 'tis matchless Ithocles.  Near. 
You might have understood who I am.  Ith. 
Yes,  
I did— else— but the presence calmed th' affront;  
Y'are cousin to the Princess.  Near. 
To the King too;  
A certain Instrument that lent supportance  
To your colossic greatness:— to that King too  
You might have added.  Itho. 
There is more divinity  
In beauty then in Majesty.  Arm. 
O fie, fie  Near. 
This odd youth's pride turns heretic in loyalty.  
Sirrah! low Mushrooms never rival Cedars.  Exeunt Nearchus & Amelus. Itho. 
Come back: what pitiful dull thing am I  
So to be tamely scolded at? Come back;  
Let him come back and echo once again  
That scornful sound of Mushroom; painted colts,  
Like Herald's coats, guilt o'er with Crowns and Sceptres,  
May bait a muzzled Lion.  Arm. 
cousin, cousin,  
Thy tongue is not thy friend.  Org. 
In point of honour  
Discretion knows no bounds. Amelus told me  
'Twas all about a little Ring.  Itho. 
A Ring  
The Princess threw away, and I took up:  
Admit she threw't to me; what arm of brass  
Can snatch it hence? No, could a' grind the hoop  
To powder, a' might sooner reach my heart  
Then steal and wear one dust on't.— Orgilus,  
I am extremely wronged.  Org. 
A Lady's favour  
Is not to be so slighted.  Itho. 
Slighted.  Arm. 
Quiet  
These vain unruly passions, which will render ye  
Into a madness.  Org. 
Griefs will have their vent.  Enter Tecnicus. Arm. 
Welcome; thou com'st in season (reverend man)  
To pour the balsam of a supplying patience  
Into the festering wound of ill-spent fury.  Org. 
What makes He here?  Tecn. 
The hurts are yet but mortal,  
Which shortly will prove deadly: To the King,  
Armostes, see in safety thou deliver  
This sealed up counsel; bid him with a constancy  
Peruse the secrets of the gods:— o Sparta,  
O Lacedaemon! double named, but one  
In fate: when Kingdoms reel (mark well my Saw)  
Their heads must needs be giddy: tell the King  
That henceforth he no more must inquire after  
My aged head: Apollo will it so;  
I am for Delphos.  Arm. 
Not without some conference  
With our great master.  Tecn. 
Never more to see him,  
A greater Prince commands me.— Ithocles, 
When youth is ripe, and Age from time doth part,  
The liveless Trunk shall wed the Broken Heart.   Ith. 
What's this, if understood?  Tecn. 
List Orgilus,  
Remember what I told thee long before,  
These tears shall be my witness.  Arm. 
'Las good man.  Tecn. 
Let craft with courtesy a while confer,  
Revenge proves its own Executioner.  Org. 
Dark sentences are for Apollo's Priests:  
I am not Oedipus.  Tecn. 
My hour is come;  
Cheer up the King: farewell to all.— O Sparta,  
O Lacedaemon.  Arm. 
If prophetic fire Exit. Tecn  
Have warmed this old man's bosom, we might construe  
His words to fatal sense.  Ith. 
Leave to the powers  
Above us, the effects of their decrees;  
My burden lies within me. Servile fears  
Prevent no great effects.— Divine Calantha.  Arm. 
The gods be still propitious.— Exeunt, manet Org.  Org. 
Something oddly  
The bookman prated; yet a' talked it weeping: 
Let craft with courtesy a while confer,  
Revenge proves its own executioner.   
con it again; for what? It shall not puzzle me;  
'Tis dotage of a withered brain.— Penthea  
Forbade me not her presence; I may see her,  
And gaze my fill: why see her then I may;  
When if I faint to speak, I must be silent. Exit Org.  Enter Bassanes, Gransis, and Phulas. Bass. 
Pray use your Recreations, all the service  
I will expect, is quietness amongst 'ee:  
Take liberty at home, abroad, at all times,  
And in your charities appease the gods  
Whom I with my distractions have offended.  Grans. 
Fair blessings on thy heart.  Phul. 
Here's a rare change:  
My Lord, to cure the itch, is surely gelded;  
The Cuckold, in conceit, hath cast his horns.  Bass. 
Betake 'ee to your several occasions,  
And wherein I have heretofore been faulty,  
Let your constructions mildly pass it over,  
Henceforth I'll study reformation,— more,  
I have not for employment.  Gran. 
O sweet man!  
Thou art the very honeycomb of honesty.  Phul. 
The garland of goodwill;— Old Lady, hold up  
Thy reverend snout, and trot behind me softly,  
As it becomes a Moil of ancient carriage. Exeunt, manet Bass.  Bass. 
Beasts only capable of sense, enjoy  
The benefit of food and ease with thankfulness;  
Such silly creatures, with a grudging, kick not  
Against the portion Nature hath bestowed;  
But men endowed with reason, and the use  
Of reason, to distinguish from the chaff  
Of abject scarcity, the Quintessence,  
Soul, and elixir of the Earth's abundance,  
The treasures of the Sea, the Air, nay heaven  
Repining at these glories of creation,  
Are verier beasts than beasts; and of those beasts  
The worst am I; I, who was made a Monarch  
Of what a heart could wish, for a chaste wife,  
Endeavoured what in me lay, to pull down  
That Temple built for adoration only,  
And level't in the dust of causeless scandal:  
But to redeem a sacrilege so impious,  
Humility shall pour before the deities:  
I have incensed a largeness of more patience  
Than their displeased Altars can require:  
No tempests of commotion shall disquiet  
The calms of my composure.  Enter Orgilus. Org. 
I have found thee,  
Thou patron of more horrors than the bulk  
Of manhood, hooped about with ribs of Iron,  
Can cram within thy breast: Penthea (Bassanes)  
Cursed by thy jealousies; more, by thy dotage  
Is left a prey to words.  Bass. 
Exercise  
Your trials for addition to my penance,  
I am resolved.  Org. 
Play not with misery  
Past cure; some angry Minister of Fate hath  
Deposed the Empress of her soul, her reason,  
From its most proper Throne; but what's the miracle  
More new, ay, I have seen it, and yet live.  Bass. 
You may delude my senses, not my judgement:  
'Tis anchored into a firm resolution,  
Dalliance of Mirth or Wit can ne'er unfix it.  
Practice yet further.  Org. 
May thy death of love to her  
Damn all thy comforts to a lasting fast  
From every joy of life: Thou barren rock,  
By thee we have be split in ken of harbour.  Enter Ithocles, Penthea her hair about her ears, Philema, Christalla. Ith. 
Sister look up, your Ithocles, your brother  
Speaks t'ee: why do you weep? dear, turn not from me:  
Here is a killing sight: lo, Bassanes,  
A lamentable object.  Org. 
Man, dost see't?  
Sports are more gamesome; am I yet in merriment?  
Why dost not laugh?  Bass. 
Divine, and best of Ladies,  
Please to forget my outrage? mercy ever  
Cannot but lodge under a root so excellent:  
I have cast off that cruelty of frenzy  
Which once appeared, Impostors, and then juggled  
To cheat my sleeps of rest.  Org. 
Was I in earnest?  Pen. 
Sure if we were all Sirens, we should sing pitifully;  
And 'twere a comely music, when in parts  
One sung another's knell: the Turtle sighs  
When he hath lost his mate; and yet some say  
A' must be dead first: 'tis a fine deceit  
To pass away in a dream: indeed I've slept  
With mine eyes open a great while. No falsehood  
equal a broken faith; there's not a hair  
Sticks on my head but like a leaden plumber  
It sinks me to the grave: I must creep thither.  
The journey is not long.  Ith. 
But thou, Penthea,  
Hast many years, I hope, to number yet  
ere thou canst travel that way.  Bass. 
Let the Swan first  
Be wrapped up in an everlasting darkness,  
Before the light of nature, chiefly formed  
For the whole world's delight, feel an Eclipse  
So universal.  Org. 
Wisdom (look 'ee)  
Begins to rave:— art thou mad too, antiquity  Pen. 
Since I was first a wife, I might have been  
Mother to many pretty prattling Babes:  
They would have smiled when I smiled; and, for certain,  
I should have cried when they cried;— truly brother,  
My father would have picked me out a husband,  
And then my little ones had been no bastards:  
But 'tis too late for me to marry now,  
I am past childbearing; 'tis not my fault.  Bass. 
Fall on me, if there be a burning Aetna,  
And bury me in flames; sweats hot as sulphur,  
Boil through my pores: affliction hath in store  
No torture like to this.  Org. 
Behold a patience  
Lay by thy whining grey dissimulation,  
Do something worth a Chronicle; show justice  
Upon the Author of this mischief; dig out  
The jealousies that hatched this thraldom first  
With thine own poniard: every antic rapture  
Can roar as thine does.  Ith. 
Orgilus forbear.  Bass. 
Disturb him not, it is a talking motion  
Provided for my torment: what a fool am I  
To bawdy passion? ere I'll speak a word  
I will look on and burst.  Pen. 
I loved you once.  Org. 
Thou didst, wronged creature, in despite of malice;  
For it I love thee even.  Pen. 
Spare your hand,  
Believe me, I'll not hurt it.  Org. 
Pain my heart to  
Complain not though I wring it hard: I'll kiss it;  
O 'tis a fine soft palm: hark in thine care,  
Like whom do I look, prithee? nay, no whispering.  
Goodness! we had been happy: too much happiness  
Will make folk proud they say— but that is he; points at Ithocles.  
And yet he paid for't home; alas, his heart  
Is crept into the cabinet of the Princess;  
We shall have points and bride-laces. Remember  
When we last gathered Roses in the garden  
I found my wits, but truly you lost yours:  
That's He, and still 'tis He.  Ith. 
Poor soul, how idly  
Her fancies guide her tongue.  Bass. 
Keep in vexation,  
And break not into clamour.  Org. 
She has tutored me:  
Some powerful inspiration checks my laziness:  
Now let me kiss your hand, grieved beauty.  Pen. 
Kiss it.  
Alack, alack, his lips be wondrous cold;  
Dear soul, h'as lost his colour: have thou seen  
A straying heart? all crannies, every drop  
Of blood is turned to an Amethyst,  
Which married Bachelors hang in their ears.  Org. 
Peace usher her into Elysium:  
If this be madness, madness is an Oracle. Exit Org.  Ith. 
Christalla, Philema, when slept my sister,  
Her ravings are so wild.  Chri. 
Sir, not these ten days.  Phil. 
We watch by her continually; beside,  
We cannot any way pray her to eat.  Bass. 
Oh— misery of miseries!  Pen. 
Take comfort,  
You may live well, and die a good old man:  
By yea and nay, an oath not to be broken,  
If you had joined our hands once in the Temple,  
'Twas since my father died, for had he lived  
He would have done't: I must have called you father:  
Oh my wracked honour ruined by those Tyrants,  
A cruel brother, and a desperate dotage!  
There is no peace left for a ravished wife  
Widowed by lawless marriage; to all memory,  
Penthea's, poor Penthea's name is strumpeted:  
But since her blood was seasoned by the forfeit  
Of noble shame, with mixtures of pollution,  
Her blood ('tis just) he henceforth never heightened  
With taste of sustenance. starve; let that fullness  
Whose pleurisy hath severed faith and modesty,  
Forgive me: o I faint.  Arm. 
Be not so wilful.  
Sweet Niece, to work thine own destruction.  Ith. 
Nature  
Will call her daughter, monster,— what? not eat?  
Refuse the only ordinary means  
Which are ordained for life? be not, my sister,  
A murderess to thyself.— Hear'st thou this, Bassanes?  Bass. 
Foe, I am busy; for I have not thoughts  
Enough to think all shall be well anon.  
'Tis tumbling in my head there is a mastery  
In Art to fatten and keep smooth the outside;  
Yes, and to comfort up the vital spirits  
Without the help of food, fumes or perfumes,  
Perfumes or fumes: let her alone, I'll search out  
The trick on't.  Pen. 
Lead me gently; heavens reward ye  
Griefs are sure friends; they leave (without control)  
Nor cure nor comforts for a leprous soul.  Exeunt the maids supporting Penthea Bass. 
I grant t'ee; and will put in practice instantly  
What you shall still admire: 'tis wonderful,  
'Tis super singular, not to be matched:  
Yet when I've done't, I've done't; ye shall all thank me.  Exit Bassanes. Arm. 
The sight is full of terror.  Ith. 
On my soul  
Lies such an infinite clog of massy dulness,  
As that I have not sense enough to feel it.  
See, Uncle, th'augury thing returns again,  
Shall's welcome him with Thunder? we are haunted,  
And must use exorcism to conjure down  
This spirit of malevolence.  Arm. 
Mildly, Nephew.  Enter Nearchus and Amelus. Near. 
I come not, Sir, to chide your late disorder:  
Admitting that th' enurement to a roughness  
In Soldiers of your years and fortunes, chiefly  
So lately prosperous, hath not yet shook off  
The custom of the war in hours of leisure:  
Nor shall you need excuse, since you are to render  
Account to that fair Excellence, the Princess,  
Who in her private Gallery expect it  
From your own mouth alone: I am a messenger  
But to her pleasure.  Ith. 
Excellent Nearchus,  
Be Prince still of my services, and conquer,  
Without the combat of dispute, I honour 'ee.  Near. 
The King is on a sudden indisposed,  
Physicians are called for; 'twere fit, Armostes,  
You should be near him.  Arm. 
Sir, I kiss your hands. Exeunt.  Manent Nearchus & Amelus. Near. 
Amelus, I perceive Calantha's bosom  
Is warmed with other fires then such as can  
Take strength from any fuel of the love  
I might address to her: young Ithocles,  
Or ever I mistake, is Lord ascendant  
Of her devotions; one, to speak him truly,  
In every disposition nobly fashioned,  Ame. 
But can your Highness brook to be so rivalled,  
Considering th'inequality of the persons?  Near. 
I can, Amelus; for affections injured  
By tyranny, or rigour of compulsion,  
Like Tempest-threatened Trees unfirmly rooted,  
ne'er spring to timely growth: observe, for instance,  
Life-spent Penthea, and unhappy Orgilus.  Ame. 
How does your grace determine?  Near. 
To be jealous  
In public, of what privately I'll further;  
And though they shall not know, yet they shall find it.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Hemophil and Grone as leaving Amyclas, and placing him in a Chair, followed by Armostes, Crotolon, and Prophilus. Amy. 
Our daughter is not near?  Arm. 
She is retired, Sir,  
Into her gallery.  Amy. 
Where's the Prince our cousin?  Proph. 
New walked into the Grove (my Lord.)  Amy. 
All leave us,  
Except Armostes, and you Crotolon,  
We would be private.  Proph. 
Health unto your Maiesty.  Exeunt Prophilus, Hemophil, & Groneas Amy. 
What, Tecnicus is gone?  Arm. 
He is to Delphoi  
And to your Royal hands presents this box.  Amy. 
Unseal it, good Armostes, therein lies  
The secrets of the Oracle; out with it;  
Apollo live our patron: read, Armostes.  Arm. 
The plot in which the Vine takes root,  
Begins to dry, from head to foot,  
The stock soon withering, want of sap  
Doth cause to quail the budding grape:  
But from the neighbouring Elm, a dew  
Shall drop and feed the Plot anew.  Amy. 
That is the Oracle, what exposition  
Makes the Philosopher?  Arm. 
This brief one, only: 
The plot is Sparta, the dried Vine the King;  
The quailing grape his daughter; but the thing  
Of most importance, not to be revealed,  
Is a near Prince, the Elm; the rest concealed.   Tecnicus. Amy. 
Enough; although the opening of this Riddle  
Be but itself a Riddle, yet we construe  
How near our labouring age draws to a rest:  
But must Calantha quail to the young grape  
Untimely budded! I could mourn for her,  
Her tenderness hath yet deserved no rigor  
So to be crossed by Fate.  Arm. 
You misapply, Sir;  
With favour let me speak it what Apollo  
Hath clouded in hid sense: I here conjecture  
Her marriage with some neighbouring Prince, the dew  
Of which befriending Elm shall ever strengthen  
Your Subjects with a Sovereignty of power.  Crot. 
Besides, most gracious Lord, the pith of Oracles  
Is to be then digested, when the events  
Expound their truth, not brought ti soon to light  
As uttered; Truth is Child of Time, and herein  
I find no scruple, rather cause of comfort  
With unity of kingdoms.  Amy. 
May it prove so  
For weal of this dear Nation.— where is Ithocles?  
Armostes, Crotolon; when this withered Vine  
Of my frail carcase, on the funeral Pile,  
Is fired into its ashes, let that young man  
Be hedged about still with your cares and loves;  
Much owe I to his worth, much to his service.  
Let such as wait come in now.  Arm. 
All attend here.  Enter Ithocles, Calantha, Prophilus, Orgilus, Euphranea, Hemophil, and Groneas. Cal. 
Dear Sir, King, Father!  Ith. 
O my royal Master!  Amy. 
Clean not my heart (sweet Twins of my life's solace)  
With your forejudging fears: there is no Physic  
So cunningly restorative to cherish  
The fall of Age, or call back youth and vigour,  
As your consents in duty: I will shake off  
This languishing disease of time, to quicken  
Fresh pleasures in these drooping hours of sadness:  
Is fair Euphranea married yet to Prophilus?  Crot. 
This morning, gracious Lord.  Org. 
This very morning,  
Which with your Highness leave you may observe too  
Our sister looks( methinks) mirthful and sprightly;  
As if her chaster fancy could already  
Expound the riddle of her gain in losing  
A trifle; Maids know only that they know not:  
Pish, prithee blush not; 'tis but honest change  
Of fashion in the garment, loose for straight,  
And so the modest maid is made a wife:  
Shrewd business, is't not sister?  Euph. 
You are pleasant.  Amy. 
We thank thee, Orgilus, this mirth becomes thee:  
But wherefore sits the Court in such a silence?  
A wedding without Revels is not seemly.  Cal. 
Your into indisposition, Sir, forbade it.  Amy. 
Be it thy charge, Calantha, to set forward  
The bridal sports, to which I will be present:  
If not, at least consenting: mine own Ithocles,  
I have done little for thee yet.  Ith. 
Y'have built me  
To the full height I stand in.  Cal. 
Now or never  
May I propose a suit.  Amy. 
Demand and have it.  Cal. 
Pray Sir give me this young man, and no further  
Account him yours, than he deserves in all things  
To be thought worthy mine; I will esteem him  
According to his merit.  Amy. 
Still thouart my daughter,  
Still growest upon my heart, give me thine hand;  
Calantha take thine own; in noble actions  
Thou'lt find him firm and absolute: I would not  
Have parted with thee, Ithocles, to any  
But to a mistress who is all what I am.  Ith. 
A change (great King) most wished for, cause the sam.—  Cal. 
thouart mine.— Have I now kept my word.  Ith. 
Divinely.  Org. 
Rich fortune's guard to favour of a Princess,  
Rock thee (brave man) in ever crowned plenty;  
Y'are minion of the time, be thankful for it:  
Ho, here's a swinge in Destiny.— Apparent,  
The youth is up on tiptoe, yet may stumble.  Amy. 
On to your recreations; now convey me  
Unto my bedchamber: none on his forehead  
Were a distempered look.  Omnes. 
The gods preserve 'ee'ee.  Cal. 
Sweet be not from my sight.  Ith. 
My whole felicity.  Exeunt carrying out of the King, Orgilus stays Ithocles Org. 
Shall I be bold my Lord?  Ith. 
Thou canst not, Orgilus;  
Call me thine own, for Prophilus must henceforth  
Be all thy sisters; friendship, though it cease not  
In marriage, yet is oft at less command  
Than when a single freedom can dispose it.  Org. 
Most right, my most good Lord, my most great Lord,  
My gracious Princely Lord, I might add royal.  Ith. 
Royal, a Subject royal?  Org. 
Why not, pray Sir?  
The Sovereignty of Kingdoms in their nonage  
Stooped to desert, not birth: there's as much merit  
In clearness of affection, as in puddle  
Of generation: you have conquered Love  
Even in the loveliest; if I greatly err not,  
The son of Venus hath bequeathed his quiver  
To Ithocles his manage, by whose arrows  
Calantha's breast is opened.  Ith. 
Can't be possible?  Org. 
I was myself a piece of suitor once,  
And forward in preferment too; so forward,  
That speaking truth, I may without offence (Sir)  
Presume to whisper, that my hopes, and (hark 'ee)  
My certainty of marriage stood assured  
With as firm footing (by your leave) as any's  
Now at this very instant— but.—  Ith. 
'Tis granted:  
And for a league of privacy between us,  
Read o'er my bosom, and partake a secret;  
The Princess is contracted mine.  Org. 
Still: why not?  
I now applaud her wisdom; when your kingdom  
Stands seated in your will secure, and settled,  
I dare pronounce you will be a just Monarch:  
Greece must admire, and tremble.  Ith. 
Then the sweetness  
Of so imparadised a comfort, Orgilus,  
It is to banquet with the gods.  Org. 
The glory  
Of numerous children, potency of Nobles,  
Bent knees, hearts paved to tread on.  Ith. 
With a friendship  
So dear, so fast as thine.  Org. 
I am unfitting  
For Office, but for service.  Ith. 
we'll distinguish  
Our fortunes merely in the Title; partners  
In all respects else but the bed.  Org. 
The bed?  
forfend it jove's own jealousy, till lastly  
We slip down in the common earth together;  
And there our beds are equal, save some Monument  
To show this was the King, and this the Subject.  
List, what sad sounds are these? extremely sad ones.  Ith. 
Sure from Penthea's lodgings.  Org. 
Hark, a voice too.  

Soft sad music. A Song.  
Oh no more, no more, too late  
Sighs are spent; the burning Tapers  
Of a life as chaste as Fate,  
Pure as are unwritten papers,  
Are burnt out: no heat, no light  
Now remains 'tis ever night.  
Love is dead, let lovers' eyes,  
Locked in endless dreams,  
Th' extremes of all extremes,  
open no more, for now Love dies,  
Now Love dies, implying  
love's Martyrs must be ever, ever dying.   Ith. 
Oh my misgiving heart!  Org. 
A horrid stillness  
Succeeds this deathful air, let's know the reason:  
Tread softly, there is mystery in mourning. Exeunt.  Enter Christalla and Philema, bringing in Penthea in a chair veiled: two other servants placing two chairs, one on the one side, and the other with an Engine on the other; the maids sit down at her feet mourning, the servant's go out, meet them Ithocles and Orgilus. Seru. 
'Tis done, that on her right hand.  Org. 
Good, begone.  Ith. 
Soft peace enrich this room.  Org. 
How fares the Lady?  Phil. 
Dead.  Chri. 
Dead!  Phil. 
Starved.  Chri. 
Starved!  Ith. 
Me miserable!  Org. 
Tell us  
How parted she from life?  Phil. 
She called for music,  
And begged some gentle voice to tune a farewell  
To life and griefs: Christalla touched the Lute,  
I wept the funeral song.  Chri. 
Which scarce was ended,  
But her last breath sealed up these hollow sounds,  
O cruel Ithocles, and injured Orgilus!  
So down she drew her veil, so died.  Ith. 
So died.  Org. 
Up; you are messengers of death, go from us;  
Here's woe enough to court without a prompter.  
Away; and hark ye, till you see us next,  
No syllable that she is dead.— Away, Exeunt Phil. & Chri.  
Keep a smooth brow.— My Lord.  Ith. 
Mine only sister,  
Another is not left me.  Org. 
Take that chair,  
I'll seat me here in this: between us sits  
The object of our sorrows; some few tears  
we'll part among us; I perhaps can mix  
One lamentable story to prepare 'em.  
There, there, sit there, my Lord.  Ith. 
Yes, as you please.  Ithocles sits down, and is catched in the Engine. 
What means this treachery?  Org. 
Caught, you are caught  
Young master: 'tis thy throne of Coronation,  
Thou fool of greatness: see, I take this veil off;  
Survey a beauty withered by the flames  
Of an insulting Phaeton her brother.  Ith. 
Thou mean'st to kill me basely.  Org. 
I foreknew  
The last act of her life, and trained thee hither  
To sacrifice a Tyrant to a Turtle.  
You dreamt of kingdoms, did 'ee? how to bosom  
The delicacies of a youngling Princess,  
How with this nod to grace that subtle Courtier,  
How with that frown to make this Noble tremble,  
And so forth; whiles Penthea's groans, and tortures,  
Her agonies, her miseries, afflictions,  
ne'er touched upon your thought; as for my injuries,  
Alas they were beneath your royal pity,  
But yet they lived, thou proud man, to confound thee:  
Behold thy fate, this steel.  Ith. 
Strike home; a courage  
As keen as thy revenge shall give it welcome:  
But prithee faint not; if the wound close up,  
Tent it with double force, and search it deeply.  
Thou look'st that I should whine, and beg compassion,  
As loath to leave the vainness of my glories;  
A statelier resolution arms my confidence,  
To cozen thee of honour; neither could I,  
With equal trial of unequal fortune,  
By hazard of a duel, 'twere a bravery  
Too mighty for a slave intending murder:  
On to the Execution, and inherit  
A conflict with thy horrors.  Org. 
By Apollo,  
Thou talk'st a goodly language; for requital,  
I will report thee to thy mistress richly:  
And take this peace along; some few short minutes  
Determined, my resolves shall quickly follow  
Thy wrathful ghost; then if we tug for mastery,  
Penthea's sacred eyes shall lend new courage.  
Give me thy hand, be healthful in thy parting  
From lost mortality: thus, thus, I free it. kills him.  Ith. 
Yet, yet, I scorn to shrink.  Org. 
Keep up thy spirit:  
I will be gentle even in blood; to linger  
Pain, which I strive to cure, were to be cruel.  Ith. 
Nimble in vengeance I forgive thee; follow  
Safety, with best success o may it prosper!  
Penthea, by thy side thy brother bleeds:  
The earnest of his wrongs to thy forced faith,  
Thoughts of ambition, or delicious banquet,  
With beauty, youth, and love, together perish  
In my last breath, which on the sacred Altar  
Of a long looked for peace-now-moves-to heaven. moritur.  Org. 
Farewell, fair spring of manhood; henceforth welcome  
Best expectation of a noble sufferance:  
I'll lock the bodies safe, till what must follow  
Shall be approved— Sweet Twins shine stars for ever.  
In vain they build their hopes, whose life is shame,  
No monument lasts but a happy Name. Exit Orgilus.    

Actus Quintus:  

Scaena prima.  Enter Bassanes alone. Bass. 
AThens, to Athens I have sent, the Nursery  
Of Greece for learning, and the Fount of knowledge:  
For here in Sparta there's not left amongst us  
One wise man to direct, we're all turned madcaps:  
'Tis said, Apollo is the god of herbs;  
Then certainly he knows the virtue of 'em:  
To Delphos I have sent to; if there can be  
A help for nature, we are sure yet.  Enter Orgilus: Org. 
Honour  
Attend thy counsels ever.  Bass. 
I beseech thee  
With all my heart let me go from thee quietly,  
I will not aught to do with thee of all men.  
The doublers of a Hare, or, in a morning,  
Salutes from a splay-footed witch, to drop  
Three drops of blood at th' nose just, and no more,  
Croaking of Ravens, or the screech of Owls,  
Are not so boding mischief as thy crossing  
My private meditations: shun me, prithee;  
And if I cannot love thee heartily,  
I'll love thee as well as I can.  Org. 
Noble Bassanes  
Mistake me not.  Bass. 
Phew, then we shall be troubled;  
Thou wert ordained my plague, heaven make me thankful,  
And give me patience too, heaven I beseech thee.  Org. 
Accept a league of amity; for henceforth  
I vow by my best Genius, in a syllable,  
Never to speak vexation; I will study  
Service and friendship with a zealous sorrow  
For my past incivility towards 'ee.  Bass. 
heighday! good words, good words, I must believe 'em,  
And be a Coxcomb for my labour.  Org. 
Use not  
So hard a Language; your misdoubt is causeless  
For instance; if you promise to put on  
A constancy of patience, such a patience  
As Chronicle, or history ne'er mentioned,  
As follows not example, but shall stand  
A wonder, and a Theme for imitation,  
The first, the Index pointing to a second,  
I will acquaint 'ee'ee with an unmatched secret,  
Whose knowledge to your griefs shall set a period.  Bass. 
Thou canst not (Orgilus) 'tis in the power  
Of the gods only; yet for satisfaction,  
Because I note an earnest in thine utterance,  
Unforced, and naturally free, be resolute  
The Virgin Bayes shall not withstand the lightning  
With a more careless danger, than my constancy  
The full of thy relation: could it move  
Distraction in a senseless marble statue,  
It should find me a rock: I do expect now  
Some truth of unheard moment.  Org. 
To your patience  
You must add privacy, as strong in silence  
As mysteries looked up in jove's own bosom.  Bass. 
A skull hid in the earth a treble age,  
Shall sooner prate.  Org. 
Lastly, to such direction  
As the severity of a glorious Action  
Deserves to lead your wisdom and your judgement,  
You ought to yield obedience.  Bass. 
With assurance  
Of will and thankfulness.  Org. 
With manly courage  
Please then to follow me.  Bass. 
where'er, I fear not.  Exeunt omnes.  

Scene 2. Loud music.  Enter Groneas and Hemophil leading Euphranea, Christalla and Philema leading Propholus, Nearchius supporting Calantha; Crotolon, and Amelus; cease loud Music, all make a stand. Cal. 
We miss our servant Ithocles and Orgilus,  
On whom attend they?  Crot. 
My son, gracious Princess,  
Whispered some new device, to which these; Revels  
Should be but usher: wherein I conceive  
Lord Ithocles and he himself are Actors.  Cal. 
A fair excuse for absence: as for Bassanes.  
Delights to him are troublesome; Armostes  
Is with the King.  Crot. 
He is.  Cal. 
On to the dance:  
Dear cousin, hand you the Bride, the Bridegroom must be  
Entrusted to my Courtship: be not jealous  
Euphranea, I shall scarcely prove a temptress:  
Fall to our dance.  Music. Nearchus dance with Euphranea, Prophilus with Calantha, Christalla with Hemophil, Philema with Groneas. Dance the first change; during which, Enter Armostes. Arm. 
The King your father's dead.— in Calantha's ear  Cal. 
To the other change.  Arm. 
Is't possible?  Dance again. Enter Bassanes. Bass. 
O Madam!  
Penthea, poor Penthea's starved.  Cal. 
Beshrew thee,  
Lead to the next.  Bass. 
Amazement dulls my senses.  Dance again. Enter Orgisus. Org. 
Brave Ithocles is murdered, murdered cruelly.  Cal. 
How dull this music sounds? strike up more sprightly?  
Our footings are not active like our heart  
Which treads the nimbler measure.  Org. 
I am thunderstruck.  Last change. Cease music. Cal. 
So, let us breathe a while: hath not this motion  
Raised fresher colour on your cheeks?  Near. 
Sweet Princess.  
A perfect purity of blood enamels  
The beauty of your white.  Cal. 
We all look cheerfully:  
And cousin, 'tis, methinks, a rare presumption  
In any, who prefers our lawful pleasures  
Before their own sour censure, to interrupt  
The custom of this Ceremony bluntly.  Near. 
None dares, Lady.  Cal. 
Yes, yes; some hollow voice delivered to me  
How that the King was dead.  Arm. 
The King is dead:  
That fatal news was mine; for in mine arms  
He breathed his last, and with his Crown bequeathed 'ee  
Your mother's wedding Ring, which here I tender.  Crot. 
Most strange!  Cal. 
Peace crown his ashes: we are queen then.  Near. 
Long live Calantha, Sparta's Sovereign Queen.  Omnes. 
Long live the Queen.  Cal. 
What whispered Bassanes?  Bass. 
That my Penthea, miserable soul,  
Was starved to death.  Cal. 
she's happy; she hath finished  
A long and painful progress.— A third murmur  
Pierced mine unwilling ears.  Org. 
That Ithocles  
Was murdered; rather butchered, had not bravery  
Of an undaunted spirit, conquering terror,  
Proclaimed his last Act triumph over mine.  Arm 
How? murdered?  Cal. 
By whose hand?  Org. 
By mine; this weapon  
Was instrument to my revenge: the reasons  
Are just and known: quit him of these, and then  
Never lived Gentleman of greater merit,  
Hope, or habiliment to steer a kingdom.  Crot. 
Fie Orgilus.  Euph. 
Fie brother.  Cal. 
You have done it.  Bass. 
How it was done let him report, the forfeit  
Of whose allegiance to our laws doth covet  
Rigour of justice; but that done it is,  
Mine eyes have been an evidence of credit  
Too sure to be convinced: Armostes, rent not  
Thine Arteries with hearing the bare circumstances  
Of these calamities: thou'st lost a Nephew,  
A Niece, and I a wife: continue man still,  
Make me the pattern of digesting evils,  
Who can outlive my mighty ones, not shrinking  
At such a pressure as would sink a soul  
Into what's most of death, the worst of horrors:  
But I have sealed a covenant with sadness,  
And entered into bonds without condition  
To stand these tempests calmly; mark me, Nobles,  
I do not shed a tear, not for Penthea:  
Excellent misery!  Cal. 
We begin our reign  
With a first act of justice: thy confession,  
Unhappy Orgilus, dooms thee a sentence;  
But yet thy fathers, or thy sister's presence  
Shall be excused: give, Crotolon, a blessing  
To thy lost son Euphranea, take a farewell,  
And both be gone.  Crot. 
Confirm thee, noble sorrow,  
In worthy resolution.  Euph. 
Could my tears speak,  
My griefs were sleight.  Org. 
All goddess dwell amongst ye;  
Enjoy my sister, Prophilus; my vengeance  
Aimed never at thy prejudice.  Cal. 
Now withdraw:  Exeunt Crotolon, Prophilus, & Euphranea 
Bloody relator of thy stains in blood;  
For that thou hast reported him whose fortunes  
And life by thee are both at once snatched from him,  
With honourable mention; make thy choice  
Of what death likes thee best, there's all our bounty.  
But to excuse delays, let me (dear cousin)  
Entreat you and these Lords see execution  
Instant before 'ee part.  Near. 
Your will commands us.  Org. 
One suit, just Queen, my last; vouchsafe your clemency  
That by no common hand I be divided  
From this my humble frailty.  Cal. 
To their wisdoms  
Who are to be spectators of thine end,  
I make the reference: those that are dead,  
Are dead; had they not now died, of necessity  
They must have paid the debt they owed to nature,  
One time or other.— Use dispatch, my Lords,  
we'll suddenly prepare our Coronation.  Exeunt Calantha, Philena, Christalla Arm. 
'Tis strange, these Tragedies should never touch on  
Her female pity.  Bass. 
She has a masculine spirit:  
And wherefore should I pule, and like a girl,  
Put finger in the eye: let's be all toughness,  
Without distinction betwixt sex and sex.  Near. 
Now Orgilus thy choice.  Org. 
To bleed to death.  Arm. 
The Executioner.  Org. 
myself, no Surgeon.  
I am well skilled in letting blood: bind fast  
This arm, that so the pipes may from their conduits  
Convey a full stream: here's a skilful Instrument:  
Only I am a beggar to some charity  
To speed me in this Execution,  
By lending th'other prick to th' other arm,  
When this is bubbling life out.  Bass. 
I am for 'ee.  
It most concerns my art, my care, my credit;  
Quick, fillet both this arms.  Org. 
Gramercy friendship  
Such courtesies are real, which flow cheerfully  
Without an expection of requital.  
Reach me a staff in this hand: if a proneness,  
Or custom in my nature, from my cradle,  
Had been inclined to fierce and eager bloodshed;  
A coward guilt, hid in a coward quaking,  
Would have betrayed fame to ignoble flight,  
And vagabond pursuit of dreadful safety:  
But look upon my steadiness, and scorn not  
The sickness of my fortune, which since Bassanes  
Was husband to Penthea, had lain bedrid:  
We trifle time in words: thus I show cunning  
In opening of a vein too full, too lively.  Arm. 
Desperate courage.  Org. 
Honourable infamy.  Lem. 
I tremble at the sight.  Gron. 
Would I were loose.  Bass. 
It sparkles like a lusty wine new broached;  
The vessel must be sound from which it issues;  
Grasp hard this other stick I'll be as nimble.  
But prithee look not pale; have at 'ee stretch out  
Thine arm with vigour, and unshook virtue.  
Good; o I envy not a Rival fit  
To conquer in extremities; this pastime  
Appears majestical: some high tuned poem  
Hereafter shall deliver to posterity  
The writer's glory, and his subjects' triumph:  
How is't man, droop not yet.  Org. 
I feel no palsies:  
On a pair royal do I wait in death;  
My Sovereign, as his Liegeman; on my Mistress,  
As a devoted servant; and on Ithocles,  
As if no brave, yet no unworthy enemy:  
Nor did I use an engine to entrap  
His life, out of a slavish fear to combat  
Youth, strength, or cunning, but for that I durst not  
Engage the goodness of a cause on fortune,  
By which his name might have outfaced my vengeance:  
On Tecnicus, inspired with Phoebus' fire,  
I call to mind thy Augury, 'twas perfect;  
Revenge proves its own Executioner  
When feeble man is bending to his mother,  
The dust 'a was first framed on, thus he totters.  Bass. 
Life's fountain is dried up.  Org. 
So falls the Standards  
Of my prerogative in being a creature:  
A mist hangs o'er mine eyes; the Sun's bright splendour  
Is clouded in an everlasting shadow:  
Welcome thou ice that sittest about my heart,  
No heat can ever thaw thee.  Near. 
Speech hath left him. dies.  Bass. 
A' has shaken hands with time: his funeral urn  
Shall be my charge: remove the bloodless body;  
The Coronation must require attendance:  
That passed, my few days can be but one mourning. Exeunt.  An altar covered with white. Two lights of Virgin wax, during which music of Recorders, enter four bearing Ithocles on a hearse, or in a chair, in a rich robe, and a Crown on his bead; place him on one side of the Altar, after him enter Calantha in a white robe, and crowned Euphrania; Philema, Christalla in white, Nearchus, Armostes, Crotolon, Prophilus, Amelus, Bassanes, Lemophil, and Groneas. Calantha goes and kneels before the Altar, the rest stand off, the women kneeling behind; cease Recorders during her devotions: Soft music. Calantha and the rest rise doing obeisance to the Altar. Cal. 
Our Orisons are heard, the gods are merciful:  
Now tell me, you whose loyalties pays tribute  
To us your lawful Sovereign, how unskilful  
Your duties or obedience is, to render  
Subjection to the Sceptre of a Virgin,  
Who have been ever fortunate in Princes  
Of masculine and stirring composition?  
A woman has enough to govern wisely  
Her own demeanours, passions, and divisions.  
A Nation warlike and enured to practice  
Of policy and labour, cannot brook  
A feminate authority: we therefore  
Command your counsel, how you may advise us  
In choosing of a husband whose abilities  
Can better guide this kingdom.  Near. 
Royal Lady,  
Your law is in your will.  Arm. 
We have seen tokens  
Of constancy too lately to mistrust it.  Crot. 
Yet if your highness settle on a choice  
By your own judgement both allowed and liked of,  
Sparta may grow in power, and proceed  
To an increasing height.  Cal. 
Hold you the same mind.  Bass. 
Alas great mistress, reason is so clouded  
With the thick darkness of my infinites woes  
That I forecast, nor dangers, hopes, or safety:  
Give me some corner of the world to wear out  
The remnant of the minutes I must number,  
Where I may hear no sounds, but sad complaints  
Of Virgins who have lost contracted partners;  
Of husband's howling that their wives were ravished  
By some untimely fate; of friends divided  
By churlish opposition, or of fathers  
Weeping upon their children's slaughtered carcases;  
Or daughters groaning o'er their father's hearses,  
And I can dwell there, and with these keep consort  
As musical as theirs: what can you look for  
From an old foolish peevish doting man,  
But craziness of age?  Cal. 
cousin of Argos.  Near. 
Madam.  Cal. 
Were I presently  
To choose you for my Lord, I'll open freely  
What articles I would propose to treat on  
Before our marriage.  Nearc 
Name them virtuous Lady.  Cal. 
I would presume you would retain the royalty  
Of Sparta in her own bounds: then in Argos  
Armostes might be Viceroy; in Messene  
Might Crotolon bear sway, and Bassanes—  Bass. 
ay, Queen? alas! what I?  Cal. 
Be Sparta's Marshal:  
The multitudes of high employments could not  
But set a peace to private griefs: these Gentlemen,  
Groneas and Lemophil, with worthy pensions  
Should wait upon your person in your Chamber:  
I would bestow Christalla on Amelus,  
she'll prove a constant wife, and Philem.  
Should into Vesta's Temple.  Bass. 
This is a Testament,  
It sounds not like conditions on a marriage.  Near. 
All this should be performed,  Cal. 
Lastly, for Prophilus  
He should be (cousin) solemnly invested  
In all those honours, titles, and preferments  
Which his dear friend, and my neglected husband  
Too short a time enjoyed.  Proph. 
I am unworthy  
To live in your remembrance.  Euph. 
Excellent Lady!  Near. 
Madam, what means that word neglected husband?  Cal. 
Forgive me: now I turn to thee thou shadow  
Of my contracted Lord: bear witness all,  
I put my mother wedding Ring upon  
His finger, 'twas my father's last bequest:  
Thus I new marry him whose wife I am;  
Death shall not separate us: o my Lords,  
I but deceived your eyes with Antic gesture,  
When one news straight came huddling on another,  
Of death, and death, and death, still I danced forward,  
But it struck home, and here, and in an instant,  
Be such mere women, who with shrieks and out-cries  
Can vow a present end to all their sorrows,  
Yet live to vow new pleasures, and outlive them:  
They are the silent griefs which cut the heartstrings;  
Let me die smiling.  Near. 
'Tis a truth too ominous.  Cal. 
One kiss on these cold lips, my last; crack, crack.  
Argos now's Sparta's King: command the voices  
Which wait at th' Altar, now to sing the song  
I fitted for my end.  Near. 
Sirs, the song.  

A Song.  All .
Glories, pleasures, pomps, delights, and ease,  
Can but please  
outward senses, when the mind  
Is not untroubled, or by peace refined.  1 
crown's may flourish and decay,  
Beauties shine, but fade away.  2. 
Youth may revel, yet it must  
Lie down in a bed of dust:  3. 
Earthly honours flow and waste,  
Time alone doth change and last.  All .
sorrows mingled with contents, prepare  
Rest for care;  
Love only reigns in death: though Art  
Can find no comfort for a broken heart.   Arm. 
Look to the Queen.  Bass. 
Her heart is broke indeed;  
O royal maid, would thou hadst missed this part:  
Yet 'twas a brave one: I must weep to see  
Her smile in death.  Arm. 
Wise Tecnicus, thus said he, 
When youth is ripe, and age from time doth part,  
The liveless Trunk shall wed the broken hearts   
'Tis here fulfilled.  Near. 
I am your King.  Omnes. 
Long live  
Nearchus' King of Sparta.  Near. 
Her last will  
Shall never be digressed from; wait in order  
Upon these faithful lovers as becomes us.  
The Counsels of the gods are never known,  
Till men can call th' effects of them their own.    
FINIS.