THE Lady's Privilege.  
As it was Acted with good allowance at the Cockpit in Drury-lane, And before their Majesties at White-Hall twice.  
By their Majesty's Servants.  
The AUTHOR Henry Glapthorne.  Militat omnis amans, et habet sua castra Cupido. 
Imprinted at London by I. Okes, for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shops in Kings-street, at the sign of the Goat, and in Westminster-hall. 1640.   

To the true Example of Heroic Virtue, and Favourer of Arts, Sir FREDERICK CORNWALLIS.  
SIR:  
YOu are so well acquainted with the justice of Nobility, that your own Fame is your own History: you are writ in that Sir. Nor need I study to express it in a larger Character, since it is texted already in a Volume, time (which is Edaxrerum) cannot exterminate. Think not, worthiest Sir, this can in me be flattery; your worth admits none: nor dare I sell myself to such a slavery, as to begin my service to You with that unmanly prostitution: You have always afforded me such transcendent favours, that I should descend to ingratitude, should not I study a retribution: which though I cannot reach at, accept Sir, I beseech you, this Essay of gratitude from  
Your most obliged honourer, Hen: Glapthorne.   

The Persons.  

Trivulei, Duke of Genoa.  
Doria, Admiral of Genoa.  
Vitelli, his Friend.  
Adorni his Lieutenant.  
Bonivet, a Kinsman to Trivulci.  
Lactantio, a Genoese Lord.  
Sabelli, Page to Doria.  
Frangipan, nephew to Corimba  
Senators, Officers of State.  
Chrisea, Nieces to Trivulci. Eurione,  
Corimba, a Court Matron.  
Priest, Executioner, Virgins, Attendants,   
The Scene Genoa.   

The Prologue.  

'tIs worth my Fears, to see within this place  
Wits most accomplished Senate; 'tis a grace  
Transcending our desert, though not our fear,  
lest what our Author writes should not appear  
Fit for this judging presence; all the ways  
He knows that lead to the true throne of Plays  
Are rough uneasy paths, such as to tread  
Would fright an active able Muse; strike dead  
A weak and timorous traveller: for some  
Will give the play a piteous martyrdom  
Ere it hath life; yet have t'excite that flame,  
Only distrust in the new author's name.  
Others for shortness force the Author run,  
And end his Play before his Plot be done.  
Some in an humorous squeamishness will say,  
They only come to hear, not see the Play,  
Others to see it only, there have been,  
And are good store, that come but to be seen:  
Not see nor hear the Play: How shall we then  
Please the so various appetites of men.  
It starts our author's confidence, who by me  
Tells you thus much t'excuse the Comedy.  
You shall not here be feasted with the sight  
Of antic shows; but Actions, such as might  
And have been real, and in such a phrase,  
As men should speak in: Ladies if you praise,  
At least allow his language and his plot,  
Your own just Privilege, his Muse hath got  
So full a wreath, that spite of Envies frown  
Shall in his Brow sit as a lasting Crown.    

The Lady's Privilege.  

Act. 1. Scena. 1.  Enter Bonivet, Lactantio, and Vitelli. Bonivet. 
IS the news certain he is arrived?  Vit. 
The Duke  
Had sure intelligence, that the whole Fleet  
Anchored last night without the Bay: and now  
For confirmation of it, the thick breath  
Of his saluting Cannon hangs in Clouds  
Over the Citadel, and the glad noise  
Of the applauding people, gratulate  
His entrance to the River.  Bon. 
The day rose  
So cheerfully, as if it meant to gild  
With unaccustomed light, his sails swollen big  
As pregnant mother with the pleasing air  
Of victory.  Lac. 
The rumour of the Fleet  
Has filled all Italy with wonder, how  
So small a number should in open fight  
Defeat the Turkish Navy; and conclude  
The general's skill and valour, the main cause  
Of the achievement.  Vit. 
He has returned as large  
Assurance of his worth, as when his force  
Backed with successive fortune which attends  
His mighty resolution, overthrew  
The power of Venice in a fight; which changed  
The Sea into a flame, and took me in't  
His fortunate Captive.  Bon. 
Sir, 'tis noble in you  
To acknowledge that as good, which might have been  
Your eminent ruin; stately buildings so  
Rise out of ancient structures which the rage  
Of eating time, or anger of the winds  
Had tottered from the ground works: you may prove  
As fairly happy in the general's love,  
As in the honour which your name or Country  
Conferred on your desert.  Vit. 
You speak the scope  
Of my intention, a perfect friend  
Includes both honour, Country, Family,  
And all that's dear and holy: such a friend  
As is my Doria, to whose spacious merit  
Succession shall pay volumes, who was man  
Ere in the smooth field of his face, rough age  
Displayed his hairy Ensign; who has pulled  
Bright honour's wreath from her triumphant front  
In battles when the trembling Sea being calm  
Did crowd and thrust its waves into a storm  
To part the dreadful fury.  Lac. 
The report  
Of his Land services do stand on terms  
Of Competition with the multitude  
Of his Sea Victories.  Vit. 
Yet must subscribe  
To his Naval triumphs: though the Land  
Has seen him Conqueror, when the bodies slain  
Buried the ground they died on, which did shake  
To view itself entombed by them, for whom  
It was ordained a Sepulchre, the Drums  
Were to his ears delightful as the Lute:  
Pikes moving then in Forest, seemed as groves  
Of lofty Cedars stirred by sportive winds,  
And when wars Choristers, the whistling Fife,  
And surly Trumpet sung an army dirge,  
That fatal music wraps his sprightful sense,  
Like jovial Hymns at Nuptials.  Bon. 
You cannot exceed  
His praises duty, since his worth contains  Ent. Frangipan. 
honour's most several attributes.  Lac. 
Signior Frangipan,  
What riding post on foot, whither in such haste?  Fran. 
Very well met gentlemen, I scarce have breath  
To utter a wise word yet.  Lac. 
We do believe you Signior, and are in doubt  
When you'll have leisure for't.  Fran. 
Hear you the news,  
The General's arrived: farewell, he will not land  
Till I have had the maidenhead of his hand.  Exit. Bon. 
'tis such another parrot, he relates  
Things by tradition, as dog's bark: his news  
Still marches in the rear, yet he relates it  
As confidently, as if each tale he tells,  Ent. Doria, Adorni, & Sabelli. 
As to be straight inserted as an eight  
To the seven former wonders— But here comes one  
Will cut off the fool's Character: renowned General  
Do us the gracious honour to permit us  
Salute the hand has saved our Country.  Do. 
Noblest friends,  
I am more victorious in your early loves,  
Than in the Turkish Conquest; though I remain  
A Captive to your kindness, my Vitelli,  
The solid earth, or a continued Rock,  
May by some strange eruptions of the wind,  
Be rent, and so divided; but true friends  
Are adjuncts most inseparable: I have  
Still worn thee here Vitelli, as a Jewel  
Fit for no other Cabinet: gentlemen  
Your welcome hands methinks we should embrace,  
So as ships grapple in hot fight, nor part,  
Till our affectionate fury has discharged  
Volleys of joyful courtesy.  Ador. 
This is fitter ceremony for them  
Then to embrace an enemy, who will not part  
On terms so easy; these gentlemen know better  
To cut a Caper, than a Cable, or board a Pink in the Burdells, than a Pinnace at sea: I marvel my Lord should know such Milksops.  Vit. 
My Lord,  
You come t'instruct us Courtship, as you've taught  
Your foes to fear your valour: you appear  
As if this were your Nuptial day, on which  
You were to wed bright triumph; but you can  
As well Court peace in silks, as raging war  
In burnished steel, and touch the ravishing strings  
With as much cunning industry as if  
Mars could like Orpheus strike the trembling Harp.  
Signior Adorni welcome home, I hope  
Y'ave made a richer prize, then when my ship  
Struck to your mercy.  Ador. 
Yes, we are very like  
To make good prize indeed, when all the profit  
Goes to the State and heavy-headed Burghers,  
That lie and snort at home, and eat what we  
Sweat bloody drops for.  Do. 
Honest Adorni,  
His bluntness must excuse him gentlemen;  
How harsh and rough soe'er he seems, his honour  
Will quickly vary, when I have been tired  
With toil of war; the observations which  
His travails have afforded him of men,  
Countries, and manners, lively set forth  Flourish. Enter Trivulci, Chrisea, Eurione, Corimba. 
By his expressive action, has begot  
Mirth in my drowsy soul: when you're acquainted  
With his conceit of carriage; you'll not affect  
A jovialler Companion,— See the Duke  Tri. 
My noble warrior,  
Peace now looks lovely on us, since we enjoy  
The author of't in safety: rise my Doria,  
Let me embrace those youthful limbs which cloth  
War in love's livery: thy honoured father,  
When he returned laden with Turkish spoils,  
As trophies of his valour from the slaughter  
Of Haly Bassa at Lepanto, where  
The Christian name was hazarded, arrived not  
More welcome to the State; believe me youth,  
Hadst thou a mother living, to be proud  
Of thy Nativity, unless she wept  
For joy to see thee, could no way express  
A more affectionate gladness: Chrisea,  
Eurione welcome him home, who cannot  
Receive an equal grace to the just value  
Of his deservings.  Chri. 
Your grace prepares us for that,  
We did intend to offer.  Corin. 
Yes truly did we sir, this General is ill-bred, I warrant him, to slight a gentlewoman of my demeanour.  Dor. 
My gracious Lord,  
To tender thanks, where 'tis a debt, not duty,  
Befits an equal; subjects ought to offer,  
With the sincere devotion that our Priests  
Do prayers to Heaven, their hearts as sacrifices  
To their deserving Princes, whose sole favours  
Do as the quickening lustre of the Sun  
Cherish inferior spirits: yours have been  
Showered down on me as elemental dew  
On the parched earth, which drinks it up, and cannot  
Give heaven a retribution, yet my duty  
Shall speak my willing thankfulness, and while  
These arms can wield victorious steel, no danger  
Shall fright me from that service which I owe  
My Prince and Country: since men are not borne  
For themselves only; but their life's a debt  
To th' Commonwealth that bred 'em.  Tri. 
Gentle warrior,  
Thy father's spirit swells thy soul, I read it  
In thy submissive loyalty; let's in,  
'tis just that those who caused the wars to cease,  Flour. Ex. praeter Corim. and Eurione. 
Should have the early fruits of their own peace,  Euri. and Corimba. 
Have you employed a serious diligence yet  
In giving Lord Vitelli secret notice  
Of my affection to him?  Corim. 
Truly Madam,  
And as I hope to have a husband yet  
Ere I be fifty, I have been so ta'en up  
About my new device, I scarce have leisure  
To say my prayers sincerely: Ladybird  
You look not sprightly, ravishing, only this fear  
Was not well cut, nor well laid on, it wanted  
A little of my learned art: Vitelli  
Doubt him not Madam, he shall love you so:  
'tis pretty neat now; I would not have a Lady  
That wears a glass about her, have the least  
Pimple in her countenance discomposed, it does  
Disgallant a whole beauty.  Eur. 
But Corimba  
What's this to me, thou mayst as well tell tales  
Of love to one departing life, these toys  
Relish with me as bitter pills with children,  
Wilt thou effect my business?  Cor. 
I confess  
I have been very fortunate in bringing  
Couples together, though I ne'er could couple  
myself with any, your Ladyship could not  
Have chose a better agent.  Enter Frangipan. Fran. 
Save you sweet Lady, save you, Aunt I have  
Lost all my morning exercise at tennis  
In seeking you, and yet was still in hazard  
Whether I should meet you; I must request a little  
Help from your Art good Aunt, a patch, or two,  
To make me appear more lovely; for my glass  
Tells me I have a very scurvy face  
Without some ornament.  Cori. 
'tis a good innocent face, be not ashamed on't;  
I'll cut out one instantly; nay I never  
Go unprovided of materials let me see,  
What form is best for thee; that something timorous  
A heart stuck neatly on thy face, will excite  
Thy heart to more audacity, good Madam  
Dost not become him prettily? x be sure  
You do commend this fashion to all gentlemen,  
Wert but as common among them as Ladies,  
My wit would be eternally made famous  
For the invention.  Fran. 
willt please you to dispatch Ant, i'm in haste,  
I've a whole staple of news to vent.  Corin. 
Of what trow?  
I would have my kind red more ridiculous  
To th'world than I am; x all your news  
Is stale; invent me rather some choice story,  
How true or false no matter, and declare it  
For news, 'twill please far better, and endear  
Your judgement i'th' relation—  Enter Doria, Chrisea, Sabelli. Fran. 
Noble General you're happily encountered:  
Have you seen my Aunt yet Signior; here she is, I have  
News to inform you worth your knowledge.  Dor. 
Keep them  
Good Signior till some other time: Eurione  
We must implore your absence, we'd be private.  Cor. 
Why we have been trusted  
With as good secrets: please your Lordship  
Accept this Crescent, you see my x  
Is in the fashion; let me lay it on,  
Insooth your face is, for a soldier's,  
Too smooth, and polite; this device will show  
As't had a scar upon it, which is an honour  
To faces Military.  Dor. 
Good Madam gravity,  
Keep your devices for your Chamber Lords,  
That dance to ladies' shadows; pray be gone,  
We need not your society— Sabelli  Exeunt. 
Put to the door, and then be gone— Chrisea  Exit. 
The modest Turtles which  
In view of other more lascivious Birds  
Exchange their innocent loves in timorous sighs,  
Do when alone most prettily convert  
Their chirps to billing; and with feathered arms  
Encompass mutually their gaudy necks.  Chri. 
You would infer that we  
Should in their imitation spend this time  
Intended for a conference which concerns us  
Nearer than Compliment.  Dor. 
Why my Chrisea,  
We may entwine as freely, since our loves  
Are not at age yet to conceive a sin,  
Thine being new borne, and mine too young to speak  
A lawless passion, for my services  
Pay me with priceless treasure of a kiss,  
While from the balmy fountains of thy lips  
Distils a moisture precious as the Dew,  
The amorous bounty of the morn  
Casts on the Roses cheek: what wary distance  
Do you observe? speak, and enrich my ears  
With accents more harmonious than the Larks  
When she sings Hymns to Harvest.  Chri 
Sure my Lord  
Y'ave studied Compliment; I thought the war  
Had taught men resolution, and not language.  Dor. 
Oh you instruct me justly, I should rather  
Have ta'en the modest Privilege of your lip,  
And then endeavoured to repay the grace  
With my extremest eloquence.  Chri. 
You mistake me.  Dor. 
Remit my ignorance, and let me read  
The mystery of thy language in thy looks,  
In which are lively Characters of love  
Writ in the polished tablets of thy cheeks:  
Which seem to vary colours, like the Clouds  
When they presage a storm; and those bright eyes  
Dart unaccustomed beams, which shine as anger  
Flashed from their fiery motion.  Chri. 
You misconstrue  
The intention of my looks, I am not angry  
Though much distempered.  Dor. 
At what, by whom?  
Lives there a creature so extremely bad  
Dares discompose your patience? speak, reveal  
The monster to me; were he fenced with flames,  
Or locked in Bulwarks of congested ye:  
And all the fiends stood sentinels to guard  
The passage, I would force it to his heart,  
Through which the mounting violence of my rage  
Should pierce like lightning.  Chri. 
I believe  
That in some trivial quarrel to redeem  
My fame, should scandal touch it, you would fight  
Perhaps to show your valour: But I have  
A task to enjoin me, which my fears possess me,  
You dare not venture to accept.  Dor. 
By truth  
You wrong my faith and courage to suspect me  
Of so extreme a Cowardice: have I stood the heat  
Of Battles till upon the mountainous piles  
Of slaughtered Carcases, the souls which left 'em  
Seemed to ascend to Heaven: that your suspicion  
Should taint my honour with this base revolt?  
This is not noble in you.  Chri. 
Do not rage,  
When you shall hear it, you will then confess  
Your confident error.  Dor. 
My loyalty will not  
Permit that strong rebellion in my breast,  
To doubt the meanest falsehood in a word  
Her voice can utter, which should charm the world  
To a belief, some Cherubin has left  
Its room in heaven, to carol to the earth  
Celestial Anthems, and I now begin  
To question my own frailty; but by all  
Which we call good or holy, be't your will  
I should invade inevitable death,  
In its most ugly horror, my obedience  
Shall like a careless Pilot cast this bark  
On that pale rock of ruin.  Chri. 
Will you swear this?  Dor. 
Yes, invent  
A form of oath so binding, that no Law  
Or power can dispense with: and I'll seal  
With my best blood: pray Madam tell me what  
The imposition is you judge so easily,  
Will stagger my just truth, that I may fly  
On love's light wings to act it.  Chr. 
Hear it then, and do not,  
As you respect your oath, or love, request  
The cause of what I shall command.  Dor. 
Still Suspicions:  
My honour be my witness, which no action  
Shall violate, I will not.  Chri. 
Enough, that vow  
Cannot but be material, receive it,  
I must no longer love you.  Dor. 
That's no command: what did you say Chrisea?  Chr. 
I must no longer love you, and command you,  
Leave your affection to me.  Dor. 
You're very pleasant Lady.  Chri. 
You'll find me very serious: nay more,  
I love another, and I do enjoin you,  
Since 'tis a man you may o'errule, to assist me  
In my obtaining him, without whose love  
I'm resolute to perish.  Dor. 
Sure I dream,  
Or some strange sudden death has changed his frame  
To immortality; for were I flesh  
And should hear this, certain my violent rage  
Would pull me to some desperate act beyond  
The reach of fury; these are words would infect  
Rose-coloured patience; Clear and lovely front  
With loathsome leprosy, change flames to tears  
And with unusual harshness of the sound  
Deafen the genius of the world.  Chri. 
Where's now  
The strength of soul you boasted, does the noise  
Of the death speaking Cannon, not affright  
Your settled resolution, and the voice  
Of a weak woman shake your youthful blood  
Into an ague: since you so ill bear this  
When you shall hear the man, whose love has stolen  
Your interest, you will rage more than unlimited fire  
In populous Cities.  Dor. 
Sure 'tis she who speaks:  
I do enjoy yet sound untainted sense,  
Each faculty does with a peaceful harmony retain  
Its proper Organ; yet she did rehearse  
She must no longer love me: oh that word transforms  
The soul of quiet into rage,  
Above distracted madness: madam tell me,  
What place is this? for you have led me  
Into a subtle Labyrinth, where I never  
Shall have fruition of my former freedom,  
But like an humble anchorite, that digs  
With his own nails his grave, must live confined  
To the sad maze for ever.  Chri. 
Sir you cannot  
By most submissive and continued prayers  
Reclaim my affection, which stands fixed as Fate  
Upon your friend Vitelli.  Dor. 
My friend Vitelli?  Chri. 
Sir, I not use  
To jest my life away: Vitelli is  
The person, to obtain whose precious love  
I do conjure you by all ties of honour  
To employ your utmost diligence.  Dor. 
Can I be  
So tame o'th' sudden? has the feeble spirit  
Of some degenerate Coward frighted hence  
My resolution, which has given a Law  
To fate itself, that I must now become  
The stale to my own ruin: oh Chrisea,  
Who wert so good that virtue would have sighed  
At the unwelcome spectacle, had you  
Appeared but woman in a passion,  
Though of the slightest consequence: oh do not  
Abjure that Saintlike temper, it will be  
A change hereafter, burdenous to your soul:  
A sin to one, who all his life-time blessed  
With peace of conscience, at his dying minute  
Falls into mortal enmity with heaven,  
And perishes eternally.  Chr. 
My will guides my determination, and you must  
In honour act your promise.  Dor. 
Yes, I will,  
Since you can urge it tho, but two  
Things precious to me, and one cruel word  
Robs me of both; my friend and her, Chrisea  
I have not left another sigh to move,  
Nor tear to beg your pity.  Chri. 
They are but vain,  
You may as easily think to kiss the stars,  
'Cause they shine on you, as recall my vows,  
Which I will urge no further; but wish you  
Regard your honour: But farewell, I must  
Be cruel e'er, to my own love unjust.  Ex. Dor. 
She's gone; what vapour, which the flattering Sun  
Attracts to heaven, as to create a star,  
And throw it a fading meteor to the earth,  
Has fall'n like me: I am not yet grown ripe  
For perfect sorrow, but as a bubbling brook,  
That sports and curls within its flowery Banks,  
Till the vast sea devour it, only falling  
Into the abyss of mischief; passions surround  
My intellectual powers, only my heart,  
Like to a rocky Island does advance  
Above the foe my violence of the flood,  
It's unmoved head: love be my careful guide,  
Who sails 'gainst danger both of wind and tide.  Ex.  

Actus Secundus.  Enter Bonivet, Lactantio, and Adorni. Bon. 
THanks good Adorni, we are much endeared  
To your relation; this rich corsic wine  
Erected our dull spirits, and you shall  
Command our service in as high and jocund  
A Nature.  Ador. 
Sir, although I am  
One that affects not the nice phrase of Court,  
Having been nursed in war, yet I can frame  
myself to imitation of what honour  
Shall there, or anywhere appear to be.  
Worthy my laughter.  Bon. 
You have explained your knowledge, we who breath  
Only the air of Genoa, and ne'er tasted  
Foreign behaviour, covet nothing more  
Than certain knowledge of it, as 'tis proper to  
Complexions intellectual to delight.  
In novelties; your Spaniard as you say,  
Is of a staid, serious, and haughty garb:  
Acts all his words with shrugs and gestures, kisses  
His hand away in kindness, is of diet  
Sparing, will pick his teeth as formally  
After an Orange, or a clove of Garlic,  
which is his ordinary morsel, as he'd fed  
On Partridges or Pheasant.  Ador. 
'Tis his grace  
After his dinner Sir, and to confirm  
Their most officious gravity, a Castilian  
Was for some crime in Paris to be whipped  
In triumph through the streets, and being admonished  
To be more swift of foot, so a void  
The dreadful lash the sooner, in scorn answered,  
He rather would be flayed alive, than break  
A Title of his gravity.  La. 
Much good  
Do it his patient shoulders: but Adorni,  
What think you of the French?  Ador. 
Very airy people, who participate  
More fire than earth; yet generally good,  
And nobly dispositioned, something inclining  Ent. Corim. 
To overweening fancy— This Lady  
Tells my remembrance of a Comic scene,  
I once saw in their Theatre.  Bon. 
Add it to  
Your former courtesies, and express it.  Ador. 
Your entreaty  
Is a command, if this grave Lady please,  
To act the Lady I must court.  Cor. 
Why do you think  
I cannot play the woman? I have played a woman's part  
About twenty, twenty years ago in a Court Masque,  
And though I say't as well as some o' them, & have been courted too,  
But it is truth, I have a foolish quality as many more women are guilty of besides myself, I always love them best, which slight me most, and scorn those that do court me: look you Signior, if't be a lover's part you are to act:  
Take a black spot or two, I can furnish you.  
'Twill make your face more amorous, and appear  
More gracious in your Mistress eyes.  Ador. 
Stand fair Lady.  Cor. 
'tis your part to stand fair sir: doubt not my carriage—  
O most rare man: sincerely, I shall love the French  
The better while I live for this.  Ador Acts furiously. 
Nay pray sir; gentlemen entreat the man  
To pacify his wrath, tell him I'll love him,  
Rather than see him rage thus.  Bon. 
He would have just reason to be mad indeed then, but now  
The Mood is altered.  Ador. acts ut antea. Cor. 
Excellently ravishing: this is of force  
To make the hardest hearted Lady love him:  
Can I entreat him but to teach my x  
Some of his French, he will for ever be engallanted—  Enter Eurione, and Frangipan, Bon. 
Beauteous x,  
Y'ave missed the quaintest sport; honest Adorni  
You would endear this Lady to you, would you  
Please to react it.  Ador. 
Nay, if you make me common once, farewell,  
I am not for your company.  Cor. 
Pray sir a word or two; here is a gentleman,  
Nay Nephew, though I say't a toward young man,  
Vouchsafe him your acquaintance.  Ador. 
Will he fight, is he soldier?  Cor. 
No truly sir, nor shall he be:  
I would be loath to have my only x  
Heated about the heart with lead; he's dull  
Enough already: Frangipan come hither,  
This gentleman will for my sake teach thee French.  Ador. 
For your sake reverent Madam I shall do't:  
Sir please you walk, we will confer on rudiments.  Cor. 
Come with him Coz: Sir, and you have occasion  
To use me in a pleasure, stands within  
The ability of my performance, pray command,  
You shall not be denied.  Ador. 
Come Signiors, will you walk?  Ex. Eur. 
x Bonivet,  
I should be glad, after some minutes, to  
Enjoy your Company.  Bon. 
I shall attend your Ladyship.  Eur. 
Corimba what answer from Vitelli? do I live?  
Or in the killing rigour of his scorn  
Must I die wretched.  Cor. 
Sincerely Madam,  
You are too timorous of your own deserts,  
Or else you durst not doubt, that he, or any  
You being so neat yourself, and dressed as neatly  
As any Lady in the Court, should hazard  
The reputation of his wit, by slighting  
Such an accomplished beauty.  Eur. 
You talk,  
And play the cunning flatterer, to excuse  
Your negligence; but know affection's fire  
Once kindled by desire, and blown by thought  
Into a heat, expires a thousand sighs,  
Which as love's smoke, like incense flies to heaven,  
While the light fire with nimble wings do soar  
To its own sphere, true lovers hearts who cherish  
The flame, till they to ashes burn, and perish.  Cor. 
Why Ladybird, are you so passionate, the gentleman  
Is a kind gentleman, has all that may  
Set forth a man; for when I told him how  
Like a hurt deer you wounded were with love,  
Life how he leapt for joy, as if the self  
Same arrow which struck you, had glanced on him,  
And as a token of his love, he sent you  
A bleeding heart in a Cornelion, which  
Beshrew me, most unfortunately I lost.  Enter Chrisea. Chri. 
Cornuba see  
If General Doria be within— Eurione  Ex. Cor. 
I have been seeking thee, how dost thou sister?  
I must demand a question that concerns  
The safety of your fame.  Eur. 
I rest  
Secure in mine own innocence, and no malice  
Can forge an accusation which can blemish  
My meanest thought with scandal.  Chri. 
I believe, but know Eurione I am informed  
You do affect Vitelli, and conjure you  
By the dear memory of our mother, tell me  
If the report be certain.  Eur. 
Should I deny't,  
My love would muster thousand blushes up  
To invade my guilty Cheeks, I must confess  
I love him so, as modesty and truth  
Afford me warrant.  Chri. 
'tis ill done, and childishly so easily to impart  
The treasure of your liberty, to keeping  
Of a neglected stranger.  Eur. 
His own worth  
Deserves as noble knowledge here, as many  
Who borrow titular glory from the dust  
Of their forgotten Ancestors.  Chri. 
You defend him  
Like a brave Championess, as if you meant,  
T'engage your dearest pawn of life and honour  
In his protection.  Eur. 
Say I did, the evenest,  
Though most strict justice would allow as lawful  
My honourable purpose.  Chri. 
Fie, you are led on too wildly by your fancy sister,  
It ill befits the greatness of your blood  
To seek to mix its pure stream with a poor  
Regardless River.  Eur. 
He appears to me  
Broad in his own dimensions as the sea,  
Clear as a brook, whose crystal lips salute  
Only the freshest meadows: such a Creature  
That were some cunning painter to express  
An Angel clothed in humane shape, he might  
From his derive a pattern.  Chri. 
But suppose my fancy  
Should oversway my judgement, to affect  
Vitelli; sure your manners would allow me,  
By willing resignation of your choice,  
The privilege of my birthright.  Eur. 
Would you urge  
A claim so justly mine, because you viewed  
The light two years before me: no Chrisea.  
Love's an unlimited passion, that admits  
No Ceremonious difference: this prerogative  
Should Queens endeavour, their unvalued Dowries  
Are not of worth to purchase: and though here  
As it befits me, I observe the distance  
Due to your birth; yet in love's sacred Court,  
My place is high as yours, and there we may  
Walk hand in hand together.  Chri. 
Do not flatter  
Your fancy with this vain conceit: Vitelli  
Must be no more yours; Know I have enjoined  
The General Doria to engage his friend,  
To embrace my proffered love to him.  Eur. 
You strive,  
Because you think my young and timorous flame  
Unapt t'encounter brave Vitellis heat;  
As cunning Nurses do with froward Babes,  
Fright them into an appetite: but say  
All this were real, think you Doria would  
So easily be persuaded to renounce  
His proper interest, and enthrall his friend  
To an unwilling slavery?  Chri. 
By truth he has impawned his honour to endeavour  
What I have uttered, gentle Girl consider  
Loves unresisted violence, and believe  
I would not have a rival to usurp  
A corner in the Kingdom of that heart  
Of which i'm sovereign, so farewell dear soul,  
Consider out.  Exit. Eur. 
Consider out, why this is such an act,  
Done by a cruel sister, as shall taint  
That holy name with such a black reproach  
That should a thousand pious Virgins weep,  
Rivers of tears, their most immaculate drops  
Would not wash white her scandal hapless girl,  
That in love's tempests wert but lately tossed;  
And now recovered in a calm art lost,—  Enter Lactantis. Lact. 
Madam the Duke entreats your instant company.  Eur. 
I shall attend his pleasure, good Lactantio.  
If you can meet my x Bonivet,  
Desire him visit me.  Exit. Enter Doria. Dor. 
Noble Lactantio,  
You're happily encountered, I expected  
My friend Vitelli here, this is his hour,  
I wonder he is tardy.  Lact. 
Your Lordship prevents the time with speed, or else Vitelli  
Has some impediment by business, sir.  Enter Uitelli. 
You're opportunely welcome to deliver  
Your own excuse, I was about to stretch  
My invention for you.  Uit. 
Noble friend, your enemy had you engaged your faith  
To any personal meeting could expect you,  
But at the minute, reason may dispense  
Twixt us with such a nicety.  Lact. 
Now your friends  
Arrived, I must beg licence to depart,  
I have some urgent business.  Dor. 
Good Lactantio your time's your own.  Lact. 
I kiss your Lordship's hand.  Exit. Vit. 
Friend now we're alone, I safely may  
Speak my conjecture, I have read your looks,  
And in their pensive Characters find secret,  
Strange signs of sadness.  Dor. 
I am sad indeed,  
When my remembrance tells me I have only  
Verbal assurance of your friendship.  Vit. 
Try me by any attempt, whose danger does surpass  
The common path of daring, be't to snatch,  
A fiery boult when it from heaven comes wrapped  
In sheets of lightning to afford true proof  
Of my affection, and with eager haste,  
Such as inspires a husband to enjoy  
His spouse's virgin purity, I'll run  
To the achievement.  Dor. 
These are but protests; such as be got by ceremony, proceed  
Not from intensive zeal, yet I'll experience  
The truth of your affection by a trial  
Of such a noble and effective weight,  
Which if you bravely do support, you'll stand  
As some tall Pyramid or Column for  
Your own memorial to tell after-times  
The power and strength of friendship.  Uit. 
Pray name't, and 'twere a burden would o'erpress the earth,  
I'll be the able Atlas to sustain  
Heaven on my willing shoulders.  Dor. 
There is a Lady in whose each eye sits fire, & on her cheek  
Victorious beauty captive to her smiles  
Dances in lovely triumph, one who emblems  
The glory of mortality in each look,  
Contracts the orb of lustre to a glance,  
Brandishes beams, whose purity dispense,  
Light more immaculate than the gorgeous east,  
Wears when the prostrate Indian does adore  
Its rising brightness, yet this wonder dotes  
On you with such inevitable fervour  
That I in pity of her sufferings come  
T'entreat you love her.  Vit. 
Whom my Lord?  Dor. 
You cannot appear so strangely stupid not to acknowledge  
creation's miracle, when I point out  
Her very figure you as well may seem,  
When the bleak North does with congealing blasts  
Bind up the crizzling streams in chains of ice,  
Not to know Winter, ignorant of her  
Who had she lived when superstitious mists  
Shaded the world, more groves of gammes had famed,  
T'her Divinest beauty, then to all  
The race of idle deities: 'tis Chrisea,  
The fair Chrisea loves you.  Uit. 
The fair Chrisea, your Lordship's merry.  Dor. 
Do you slight  
What I delivered with that unfeigned zeal,  
That penitents do their prayers, I say, Chrisea,  
A name whose every accent sweetlier sounds,  
Than quires of sirens sense bereaving notes,  
Chrisea loves you infinitely above  
Expressive terms; the Orators should strive  
To paint her masculine fancy, and i'm bound  
To pay this homage to her best content,  
As to conjure you, by all sacred ties  
Of honour, amity, and what else may serve  
To enforce the endearment with your noblest love  
To gratify her fancy.  Vit. 
No persuasion  
Can make me think this serious, good my Lord,  
Do not you love Chrisea?  Dor. 
More than a babe does the kind Nurse that feeds it with her blood,  
More than I do my quiet, or the joys  
Of aught but blessed eternity; Vitelli,  
No other argument can more convince,  
Suspicion should it doubt my love: but this  
That to procure her peace, I have confined  
The greatness of my passion, and give up  
To thy dispose, a jewel which the earth  
And sea should both unlade their hidden wealth,  
Should not have purchased from me.  Vit. 
These are arts to puzzle my conceits, my Lord  
I'm no such puny in the Craft of love,  
That I want brain to find this drift, which is  
As obvious to me as your eyes: now you  
Are home returned victorious, big with praise,  
Laden with titles that sit heavier on you  
Then your steel Corslet in hot fight coniemne,  
Affinity with me, to whom you've heard  
the fair Eurione has resigned her heart,  
And by this circumvention should I court  
At your entreats her sister might pretend  
A righteous cause, for an unjust revolt,  
For were it otherwise, your temper could not  
Brook your Chrisea's change without a start  
Into a sudden fury.  Dor. 
This language I understand not, by my honour friend,  
This iteration may disperse your doubt,  
I do again conjure you by all right  
Friendship can challenge in you to affect  
Chrisea nobly; shall I have your answer?  Vit. 
Nay then my Lord, since you are serious, freely I resume  
The privilege of my liberty; this body  
I do confess your captive, and 'thas suffered  
an honourable thraldom, but my mind  
Remains unbounded as the air or fire,  
Are from their spheres, Eurione has won  
By the subduing valour of her looks,  
That in a field of fancy, not of blood,  
And ere another shall usurp her right,  
In the defence I'll die her willing martyr.  Dor. 
I judged what serious value  
your boasted friendship would retain i'th' test,  
Draw your bright weapon, know that I do hate  
Baseness as much as cowardice: and since  
You slight a Lady for whose priceless love  
Kings might resign their Crowns, and humbly fall  
Like bare foot pilgrims prostrate at the shrine  
Of such a beauty, sure if in this sword,  
Death has a residence your life shall find it,  
And not survive to boast the cruel triumph of her refusal.  Vit. 
Sir your sword cannot excite a trembling in my blood,  
The glistering splendour cherishes my sight,  
Like polished Crystal, henceforth name of friend  
Be no more known betwixt us then a dream.  
Thus I expire it, I may now regain  
My honour forfeited in the General cause  
By this particular Combat.  Dor. 
Should my fate yield me the conquest, yet his death would not  
Beget Chrisea's quiet, but augment  
Her grief and hate against me: stay, forbear,  
I feel a palsy in my veins, and cannot  
Manage this little instrument of death,  
My sinews put on infancy again  
And have no vigour in them, oh Vitelli,  
I am so full of passion, I have scarce  
Room left to vent a sigh, a mine of lead  
Hangs on my heart, and with its weight has cracked  
The feeble courage.  Vit. 
Noble soul, his grief  
Works more compunction in me, than his sword  
Did sudden anger; could I grant what you  
Request, no brand-marked slave should fulfil  
Sooner his Masters most severe command,  
Than I would yours; but this abrogates all laws  
Of friendship's duty: if you've vowed this act,  
You may as safely disannul the Oath,  
As should you in some desperate fury swear  
To be your father's murderer.  Dor. 
Bid me first renounce  
My allegiance to my honour, sell my faith  
I owe my Native Country: my Vitelli  
I feel an humour in my brain, which strives  
For passage at mine eyes, wilt see me weep?  
Consider friend, denying my request  
Thou dost undo a Lady, who may claim  
The privilege of all hearts: deprivest the world  
Of such a gem, that should old nature strive  
To frame her second, it would quite exhaust  
Her glorious treasury, then in her ruin:  
My life and honour's forfeited, think this,  
And were thy heart obdurate as a rock  
Of Adamant, this thought joined with my tears  
Would sooner than the blood of Goats dissolve it  
To gentle softness.  Vit. 
Your eyes are moving advocates, they speak  
Such an o'erflowing Language, that my love  
Then in its own cause a most partial Judge,  
Allows my mercy freedom to pronounce  
Sentence on your side: you have prevailed,  
I'll serve Chrisea, as her pleasure shall  
Dispose my will and fortune.  Dor. 
I begin to feel my spirits quicken, and my blood  
Receive its noble temper; dear Vitelli,  
Thy nobleness does prompt thee to an act  
Shall write thy friendship higher in the lists  
Of sacred amity, than mother's loves.  
Go to my best Chrisea, she expects  
To know by thee the truth of my success,  
Tell her I am more happy in her bliss,  
Than if I had enjoyed her constant love:  
So leave me love, I may perhaps transgress  
Manhood again, and shouldst thou see me weep  
Twice, thou wouldst judge my former flood of tears  
A feigned passion.  Vit. 
Your Genius guard you; thus I apply  
Balm to his wounds, while I do bleeding die.  Ex. Enter Bonivet. Bon. 
Noble General, I come to gratulate the happy choice  
Y'ave made in fair Chrisea; she's a Lady,  
That though she were a stranger to my blood,  
My judgement would allow as rich a virtue  
As ever glorified the sex.  Dor. 
'Twould be a sacrilegious error not to admit  
Your Character for truth, but in our loves  
A thousand hidden causes do produce  
Alternate changes, my return has settled  
My thoughts on new resolves, and I must suit  
My affections to them.  Bon. 
How? perhaps because  
You are returned triumphant with your bays,  
Growing upon your brow, you do reject  
The love before you sued for, 'tis not noble  
So to abase a Lady, whose bright fame,  
Although untainted as a Crystal rock,  
Must pass a popular censure, if you, who  
Did with such earnestness pretend her match  
Should on the sudden scorn it.  Dor. 
I'm not bound  
To give you reasons why; but know my mind,  
Which your contesting cannot alter's fixed  
On what I have related.  Bon. 
I must then tell you  
You do defame the opinion of that worth  
The world does credit in you: this affront,  
Should all her other friends sit idle gazers  
On her disgrace, should stir me to attempt  
An ample satisfaction from your heart,  
Though you had multitudes of greater glories  
Heaped on your head, or were defenced with legions  
To affright me from the adventure.  Dor. 
Sir, your courage is juster than your quarrel, do you think  
I wear a sword only for ornament;  
And though our years declare us equals, yet  
My education was i'th' trade of war.  
'tis my profession to infranchise souls  
From prisons of their flesh, and would be loath  
'cause you have interest in Chrisea's blood,  
Your passion should betray you to the fury  
Of my incensed wrath.  Bon. 
All discourse is tedious to me, sure the world's abused  
With report of your valour, men who commit  
Affronts they dare not answer, use excuse  
In moderation of them, I expected  
I should have met an adversary of you,  
Of temper hot as lightning, and as bold  
As lions vexed with hunger, and I find you  
A tame degenerate Coward:  Dor. 
All respect of love and pity hence:  sight. 
Bear up, my steel  
Has pricked your breast; I would not have you die  
Chrisea's Martyr.  Bon. 
I've pulled untimely ruin on me, I'm hurt,  
I fear to mortal danger: Noble General,  
See me conducted to Lactantio's house,  
There I shall get a Surgeon.  Dor. 
Noble young man,  
Muster thy strongest spirits up: I am one  
Of Fortune's pastimes; yesterday returned,  
Advanced to heaven by the people's breath,  
Today hurled down into the abyss of death.  Ex.  

Actus Tertius.  Enter Chrisea, and Corimba. Chri. 
CAme none yet from the General?  Cor. 
No insooth Madam; I protest your sister  
If she continue in these sudden fits,  
Will so undo her face, that all my art  
Can never rectified; she weeps, as if  
She might as easily be supplied with eyes  
As with new dressings, I'll be sworn, I took  
As hearty pains to cut a handsome heart;  
And though I say't it was a pretty one  
As e'er was made of taffety, to grace her Check,  
And never trust me if I lie to you,  
Her tears has washed her heart away.  Chr. 
thouart still  
In these impertinent discourses: what's the cause  
My sister is so prodigal of her grief,  
To let thee see her vent it?  Cor. 
Why Madam, I have seen a Lady weep,  
Besides your sister, and have wept myself too,  
I never shall forget the time; I could  
e'en cry again to think on't; 'twas at the death  
Of your fine little jewel: never Lady  
Nursed such a dainty puppy, but he's gone,  
And farewell he; I will not give a rush  
For any woman cannot use her eyes  
With as much liberty as her tongue, these fools,  
These loving Idiots men for three forced drops  
Will mollify like wax, and be made apt  
For any impression.  Enter Vitelli. Chr. 
Vitelli you are welcome, I suppose  
Your business has been urgent, we expected  
Your presence sooner, howsoever now  
'tis grateful hither.  Cor. 
My young Lady shall  
Have notice of's arrival, perhaps his sight  
Will cheer her drooping spirits.  Ex. Vit. 
Madam, my friend  
The General, does by me tender his best  
and truest service to you, he has sent me  
Prompt, to fulfil the nicest point of duty  
Your pleasure casts upon me.  Chri. 
Sir, the General is so just in his proceeding, I must ever  
Esteem him truly Noble, though I should  
Banish him my affection.  Vit. 
I could wish  
The sweetness of your virtue would vouchsafe  
To lay a reclamation of your love:  
Had you but seen with what ambitious haste,  
With what extreme persuasions he endeavoured  
The satisfaction of your will, you could not.  
Fancy a change from one so worthy.  Chri. 
No? not to enjoy yourself?  Vit. 
Me Madam;  
No equal eye can parallel my poor  
Regardless merit, with the glorious worth  
Which does as far transcend mine in desert,  
As't does in eminence of fortune.  Chri. 
Sir your modesty  
Extenuates your own worthiness, to bestow  
A large addition on your friends, my judgement  
Has balanced both, and has concluded which  
Ought to be held most noble, I do honour  
True constancy in men, pray tell me sir,  
For it concerns me nearly, did you ever.  
Fervently love my sister?  Vit. 
To include,  
(All strength of humane zeal) as Doria does adore  
Your excellent beauty, with a heat  
Holy as souls in dearest fancy  
Their sainted fellows.  Chri. 
And can you extinguish  
So great a flame so easily, can entreats,  
So soon subdue your temper? if your truth  
Be of this wavering quality, how shall I  
Receive assurance of it?  Vit. 
The vow  
I made, my friend secures it, think not Madam  
That both my parents with persuasive prayers,  
Could have enforced me violate my faith  
To fair Eurione, but when my friend,  
My honoured friend to whom I owe my life,  
As tenant to his, bounty did in tears,  
A soldiers tears whose every drop prevails.  
More than a captive princess, plead the loss.  
Of his own life, my gratitude did vanquish  
Passion, and forced me tear even from my soul  
Eurione's affection.  Chri. 
You are just  
In your determination.  Enter Eurione. Vit. 
Bless me friendship,  
And with thy white wings overshade my heart,  
Or here descends a Saint will dispossess thee  
Of the accustomed shrine, a bark enclosed,  
Twixt two encountering tides is not more tossed  
Than I twixt striving passions, while a friend,  
I cannot be a lover.  Eur. 
Vitelli am I in your opinion lost? my sister  
Relates so sad a wonder, that if truth,  
I am undone for ever.  Vit. 
Hark she speaks too,  
A tempting language; such was our first mother's voice,  
While she was innocent, dear Ladies would  
I could divide myself, for being one,  
I cannot on the Theater of my mind,  
Act both a friend and lover, that two names  
Of so entire affinity should occasion  
So manifest a dissension, in a soul  
That would be true, yet is enforced, though loath,  
To forfeit one, or to be false to both.  Chri. 
My expectation did not  
Sage this softness in you, I had thought  
You had come furnished with a full resolve  
To act your friend's request.  Vit. 
Yet I must needs  
Speak in a cause so moving; Madam think  
How much more noble 'tis in you to save,  
Than to destroy; behold three bleeding hearts  
Imploring pity from you, mine, your sisters,  
And your adorer Dorias, which one word  
Of yours would ransom from approaching death,  
Oh be not sparing of that breath, 'twill sound  
In the just ears of heaven more sweet than prayers  
Offered by Cloistered virgins, of resume  
Your native charity, and fulfil my suit,  
And in requital of that sacred grant.  
Time shall depend like summer on your brow,  
And your whole life be one continued youth.  
Such were the springs in Paradise, and when  
You pass to be a sharer in heaven's bliss,  
Virgins and innocent lovers spotless tears,  
Hardened to pearl by the strong hair of finger,  
Shall be your monument.  Chr. 
This whole discourse  
Should you enlarge it to a volume, cannot  
Alter my meanest thought, I only wish you  
As you are noble to respect your honour;  
That's all my answer.  Exit. Eur. 
But do you mean  
Vitelli, to perform what Doria has enjoined you.  Uit. 
I shall melt  
Into a willing pity, if the flame  
Of friendship did not with its effectual heat,  
Dry up loves moisturer dear Madam he  
That has commanded me this deathful task,  
Claims such a lawful Interest in my life,  
That spite of my affection, I must yield  
To his resistless will: yet I will love you  
So far as honour gives me warrant, and  
Wish you the best of women, the best joys  
Happiness can impart to you, farewell,  
'Tis a befiting gratitude to give  
That life a being; by whose gift I live.  Exit. Eur. 
sorrows flow high; grief unto grief succeed,  
Wounds are more dangerous which do inward bleed.  Exit. Enter Adorni, and Frangipan. Ador. 
Come let not this dishearten you, your French  
Is a thing easily gotten, and when you have it,  
As hard to shake it off, runs in your blood,  
As 't were your mother language, but there is  
An observation far more necessary  
T'improve your judgement, still let your discourse  
Concern the foreign business, and be sure  
To applaud outlandish fashions, and take off from  
What is native, as if you shall hear  
Any commend the Genoa garb, or state  
Answer in France, in Naples, or in Spain,  
No Matter where, so it be far enough.  
From hence, they are more politic, more witty;  
Every way more deserving, this will speak  
Infinitely judicious, when to praise  
Our own domestic manners, is as if  
A man should praise himself, and be accounted  
A self conceited gull for't.  Fran. 
Very good, this is a rule I'll put in practice I,  
Thanks to my inclination can speak ill  
Of my own father signior.  Ador. 
Signior; still, you betray your igorance, why signior,  
Mounsiver has a far more airy and harmonious sound,  
There's music in the letters, still polish your phrase  
With particles of language, which till I've taught you  
Perfectly answer with a shrug or nod,  
Or any foreign gesture, such a silence  
Will be esteemed for gravity, and become you better  
Than volubility of speech does some  
Whose tongues are gentlemen ushers to their wits,  
Still going before it, and when you do speak,  
Let it not be, as now you do of news  
Abroach ten days before, and quite drunk of;  
But what affairs are acted then in France,  
What in the English Court; and still remember  
T'extol 'em infinitely, and if any answer  
Comparatively with our own a serious laughter,  
Will not become you ill, to show how much  
You slight their error.  Fran. 
Better still, I like this slighting humour infinitely, but how  
If they should talk of our Italian dames,  
I'm bound to be their Champion, for I've heard  
Strangers report, and I hold their opinion,  
Our courtesans excel all other Nations.  Ador. 
That showed those strangers judgements, and confirmed  
What I would have you understand in England,  
Where public houses are prohibited:  
There are the bravest Lasses, there some Donsella  
That was the last night yours, shall for two Ducats  
Tomorrow be a sailor's: when there  
Your Citizens wives, girls fresh as air, and wholesome  
As precious Candy wives will meet their Gamesters,  
At a convenient Tavern, rob their husbands  
Without a scruple, and supply their friends,  
While the good innocent Cuckolds pay a price  
For their own horning.  Fran. 
Excellent, excellent  
Genoa, I do defy thy costive girls,  
I'll henceforth love these English sparks of gold:  
Would I were there: it should go hard but I  
Would graft on their Aldermen's Coxecombs.  Ador. 
theyare grafted fast already sir, besides  
They ne'er get Children, but their Hench boys on  
Their Sergeants wives, after some City feast,  
When the provoking spirit of White broth, and  
Custard inflames their blood: what Genoa Burgess  
dam res be so boldly couraged: I'll tell you,  
And mark how base and sordid it appears  
To have our Cellars stuffed with Corsic Wines:  
Yet for this foolish sin called Temperance,  
Tantalise, and ne'er taste it, while your Dutch,  
Your noble-spirited German will carouse  
A score of Goblets to provoke this stomach  
To's bread and Butter; do nothing but by discreet  
Counsel of drink, not match his daughter to  
A man he sees not drunk first, scarce says prayers  
Till he be full of liquour, which inflames  
The mind to generous actions.  Fran. 
Commend 'em, and will be glad to imitate.  Ador. 
Your English  
Deserves as large applause, who to say truth,  
outdrinks the Dutch, as is the common proverb,  
The dutchman drinks his buttons off, the English  
Doublet and all away, then mark their carriage:  
If two fall out and strike, and be by company  
Parted; though one wears in his face the badge  
Of his dishonour, which excites him to  
As brave revenge, not daunts him: for he'll straight  
Call out his enemy to a single Duel,  
Scorning his life; concerning the Lands laws,  
Which do forbid those combats, and ne'er part  
Till one be slain, and the survivor sure  
As death to hang for't.  Fran. 
Excellent, I love a man that cares not for hanging.  Ador. 
Then to their further glory, which takes off  
All the disgrace of halter, they are sure  
Ere they be scarce cold, to be Chronicled  
In excellent new Ballads, which being sung  
Ith' streets 'mong boys and girls, Colliers, and Carmen,  
Are bought as great memorials of their fames,  
Which to perpetuate, they are commonly stuck up  
With as great triumph in the tippling houses,  
As they were scutcheons.  Fran. 
Better: yet I'd give  
A hundred Ducats to be chronicled  
In such a historical Canto: who composes them?  Ador. 
They have their special Poets for that purpose  
Such as still drink small Beer, and so are apt  
To spit out lamentable stuff: then for their clothes  
They hate a cut domestic, but imitate  
The French precisely gallants, wear their long  
Parisian Breeches, with five points at knees,  
Whose tags concurring with their harmonious spurs  
Afford rare music; then have they Doublets  
So short i'th' waste, they seem as 'twere begot  
Upon their Doublets by their Cloaks, which to save stuff  
Are but a year's growth longer than their skirts;  
And all this magazine of device is furnished  
By your French Tailor: what Country man is yours?  Fran. 
A Genoese.  Ador. 
Fie, change him Monsieur,  
You have heard a Spanish Count's  
Lately arrived, without any advice, how'd'd you salute him?  Fran. 
Thus sir, after our Italian fashion.  Ador. 
That's too vulgar;  
You must accost him thus with a state face,  
As if your beard had been turned up that morning  
By advice of all the Barbers in the City,  
As you had dressed you in a looking-glass,  
Proper to none but the Duke's privy Counsellors:  
Pronounce your Besolos manas with a grace,  
As if you were the son and heir, apparent  
To th'Adelantado of Castille.  Enter Lactantio. Lact. 
Adorni, this is no time for mirth,  
Your noble General has slain Lord Bonivet,  
And for the act is a prisoner.  Ador. 
Dares the state bereave him of his liberty,  
Without whose most unwearied valour,  
It had been betrayed to slavery?  Lac. 
You know Lord Bonivet's alliance to the Duke.  Ador. 
Alliance, death a thousand Bonivet's,  
And Dukes and States, weigh not  
A scruple poised with his full worth.  Lac. 
He's to be tried i'th' morning without noise,  
For fear of mutiny, and 'tis supposed  
That if some virgin Lady do not claim  
Her privilege, and beg his life, he'll suffer.  Fran. 
If the maid that begs must be above fifteen,  
'tis shrewdly doubted where she'll be found.  Ador. 
All our virgins ought, if they have virtue, to contend  
For such a glory; but if all be squeamish,  
May all the daughters of our best Burghers run  
Away with soldiers, and become sutler's wives.  Fran. 
Or else when they have a masculine itch upon 'em,  
And would taste man, may they be wed to Eunuchs.  Lact. 
else be forced to keep their maidenheads  
Till they be musty and not merchantable  
To younger brothers with additions of wealthy portions.  Fran. 
May they when they would strive to mend their faces to allure a suitor, want paint and black-patches to stop the Crannies of their Cheeks; may their Pomatum be mixed with Hogs-grease, that they may be abominable even in the nose of Jews: may the greensickness reign in their bloods, and may they be debarred of oat meal, and clay-wall, and fall to ratsbane.  Ador. 
May their parents turn most precise precisians,  
And forbid 'em the sight of plays, or they may never  
Dance unless be to a bagpipe or a Crowd.  Fran. 
May they want silks for gowns, and if they seek  
Supply from Naples, let them instead, be furnished  
With their Disease; may milliners break and feathermen,  
May my Aunt die suddenly, and bury with her  
All her devices; may there be no Earth  
Found to make looking-glasses, that they come to use of  
Kitchen-wenches, dress their heads by the reflection of a  
Pail of water, or in a pewter chamber vessel.  Ador. 
Lactantio, let's go wait the General  
In prison, 'twould be base should we neglect him in  
His extremity.  Exeunt. Enter Doria, and Sabelli. Dor. 
Is it confirmed he's dead?  Sab. 
The general voice  
Divulges so i'th' City; and the Duke  
Has sent an order which commands you forth  
I'th' morning to your trial: my dear Lord  
I hope the service you have done the State  
Abroad, will here at home secure your life  
From the law's violent Rigour.  Dor. 
Yes poor boy,  
If thou mightst be thy master's judge Sabelli,  
I am at the period of my fate, and would not  
Have thee a sad spectator of my fall  
At home, whom thou so oft hast waited on  
Abroad in triumph, therefore gentle heart,  
Return home to thy mother, and survive  
To serve a happier master.  Sab. 
My noble Lord  
Have I so often followed you, when death  
Attended on each step, when every hurt  
That scared your noble body, I have wished  
Imprinted on my flesh, and with my tears,  
Even drowned the purple deluge of your wounds,  
That as my truth and loyalties reward,  
I must be turned a way unkindly, when  
My last and just est service might declare  
My zeal to you my master; Oh sir,  
You more afflict my innocence with these words,  
Then if sad truth had brought me the report  
Of my own mother's funeral, and should you  
Enforce me leave you, the succeeding care,  
And labour of my life should be consumed  
In a perpetual weeping.  Dor. 
Good Sabelli  
Cease this afflicting language, lest I grow as  
Childish as thyself, and burst into tears  
To bear thee company.  Sab. 
Besides my Lord,  
When your blessed soul does on immortal wings  
Arrive at heaven who shall attend it there, the  
Saints and Angels will esteem themselves  
Worthy to be your fellows, while my poor  
And humble Ghost would reckon it a bliss  
To wait on you, as carefully as when  
We lived on earth together, dear my Lord,  
Let me die with you, death and I have been  
playfellows these many years, he'll only bring me  
To rest as pleasing to my sense as sleep  
After a tedious watching.  Dor. 
This kind passion shakes my  
Most masculine temper; here Sabelli  
Accept this Gold, these jewels, as the lest  
Gift of thy perishing Lord, thou shalt accept 'em;  
If the law do not pass upon my life,  
I'll send for thee again, I prithee leave me,  
I would be private, and thy presence does  
Disturb my serious thoughts.  Sab. 
Nay then 'tis time for  
Me the wretched'st soul on earth to take  
My lasting farewell of you; all the joys  
Of blessed eternity in stead of my  
Desertless service; wait upon your life;  
You ne'er shall view your boy again, for sure if your  
Light be extinguished, my weak flame  
Cannot continue burning; give me licence  
To kiss your honoured hand, and to let fall  
A parting drop or two: and now farewell  
For ever noble Lord; that grief appears most true,  
That's writ in blood as well as tears.  Exit. Dor. 
Poor boy; I have not yet deserved so ill  
But my untimely fate excites some pity.  Enter Adorni, Lactantio, and Frangipan. 
Adorni thou art come to see the last  
And greatest of thy general's actions,  
Which like a cunning and well managed scene,  
not till the period will disclose the plot  
Or my life's Tragedy.  Ador. 
Your life my Lord;  
Death dare not venture to invade it, and  
The state as soon will call the enemy  
Into their City, as pretend the least  
Danger to their supporting Column, which  
Should it but shake, it might dismantle their  
Best Bulwarks, burn their Navy, and surrender  
Themselves to present slavery.  Lact. 
The Duke,  
Though he did hold his kinsman dear, will value  
The public good before his private ruin.  Fran. 
Let the Duke do his worst, and all the state  
Stand on Pontilios, I can fetch a Lady  
Of excellent quality shall beg your Lordship,  
I'll make her do't.  Ador. 
Nay, should all fail you sir,  
Should the States angers, and the Duke's partial-sentence,  
The people's malice bandy to surprise  
The treasure of your life; know you have friends  
Would fix the heads of half the Town upon  
Their Lances points, ere your least drop of blood  
Should be diminished.  Dor. 
Gentlemen, I thank you  
All your loves; but know the shape of Death  
Is not ugly to me, but if justice  
Contract me to the monster, I shall court it  
As 'twere some beauteous Bride; and think the Axe  
That like the Priest, unites me to a Spouse  
That will not play the woman and revolt.  
Come Gentlemen let's in, brave souls do hate,  
To be dejected by the force of Fate.  Exeunt.  

Actus Quartus.  Enter Chrisa, Enrione, Vitelli. Chri. 
I Am very sorry that his Fate has cast  
Such a disastrous chance upon his Life:  
But his desert will blunt the edge of justice,  
And mitigate the severity, which would  
Question the safety of his Life.  Vit. 
'Tis in your mercy  
To dash the law's proceedings, gracious Madam,  
The Privilege that our Country gives your Sex,  
Can hope for no employment, that will raise  
A greater Trophy to your fame, than this  
To ransom him, whose constancy and truth  
Exceeds all boast of Stories.  Enr. 
You'll redeem  
The opinion of your piety, which scandal,  
Should you omit this just and righteous task,  
Would blast with blackest infamy.  Chri. 
You plead in your own cause, not his, 't does not beseem  
My modesty to interpose myself  
In that which nought concerns me.  Uit. 
Is his life  
Of such a trivial value in your thoughts,  
That you esteemed not worthy your entreats,  
To save't from killing, ruin, sacred love,  
Thou miracle of Mature, and delight  
Of all who know humanity with some  
Religious arrow pierce her flinty breast,  
Some pious shaft, on whose subduing point  
Pity and amorous softness gently sit,  
Reduce this straying Schismatic to the first  
Unspotted pureness of her constant faith,  
And we will pay a thousand clouds of sighs,  
As incense to thy Altars.  Eur. 
Offer up  
myriads of virgin vows and with our tears  
Extinguish all irregular flames that taint  
Thy holy fries.  Uit. 
Oh Madam  
What heart so barbarous, does not at love's smiles  
Put off the native fierceness, beasts with beasts,  
Observe his laws; the lions whose big breath  
Affrights the trembling people of the woods,  
Were his hoarse accents to be understood,  
They would appear to be affections groves.  
The Nightingale that on lascivious wings  
Flies from the poplar to the trembling Beech,  
And on each bough chants melancholy notes,  
Had hea humane utterance, would proclaim  
Those pensive strains, the music of his love;  
And can ye be less sensible of a power,  
That is so great, than creatures barred the use  
Of sacred reason, and discourse?  Chri. 
This is to seek to pacify the sea  
With tears; Vitelli you mistake, your friend  
Values not at so dear a rate his life,  
As to receive a being tributary  
To my unasked entreaties, besides I should  
Envy the state's prerogative, whose mercy  
Is in remitting his unwilling fault,  
But a becoming thankfulness, and should  
Be censured, as too partial to my own  
Affection should I strive to be his wife,  
Whose hand is purpled with the innocent blood  
Of my late murdered kinsman.  Eur. 
This concerns  
As nearly me as you, but by just truth,  
Though I'm engaged by my particular choice  
To my Vitelli, were I sure the General  
Would not contemn my offer, and so blast  
My future fame, I would disclaim all eyes  
Of former fancy; and implore his safety.  Vit. 
This is a sweetness  
Which I could wish you, what has begot  
This strange desertion of your faith, true love,  
Being once received into the soul converts  
Into its very essence, does become  
The same eternal substance, can you then  
Tear from the tender Cabinet of your breast  
Your very heart? this cruelty exceeds  
The depth of tyranny, but est assured,  
If Doria suffer by your proud contempt,  
I'm freed then from my promise, and will sooner  
Warm an empoisoning Scorpion in my arms,  
Then yield my meanest thought to you who are  
By evident circumstance, though not by fact,  
My friend the general's murderess.  Chri 
This Vitelli  
Is not a means to win me to your friend,  
But more avert me from him, it inflames  
My mind with holier fire to Court your love;  
There is an evident beauty in your soul,  
Equal to truest honour, I will cherish  
This bravery in you, if your masculine fancy  
Engages you thus constant, to a friend,  
You'll be a loyal husband, fare you well,  
Be still thus noble, and be happy.  Exit. Eur. 
My sister  
Has lost all sense of pity; dear Vitelli,  
There is no wretchedness oppressing earth  
Equal to ours, love thus the Tyrant plays,  
Afflicting innocence by unusual ways.  Exeunt. Enter Doria as a prisoner, Lactantio, Adorni, to them Trivulci, Senators, Officers, and Attendants. Ador. 
'tis like yourself my noble Lord, but see  
The Duke approaching, let your soul expect  
An equal hearing.  Offic. 
Bear back, room for the Duke and Senate, what  
Cuckold's that would have his Coxcomb broke? bear back there.  Triv. 
Cite in the prisoner.  Offic. 
he's here my Lord.  Tri. 
I'm sorry that  
You for whose head the gratitude of the state  
Decreed triumphant bays should be enforced  
To stand here a delinquent, but the law  
Must as a straight and uncorrupted stream  
Enjoy its usual freedom, my Lords,  
We are not met here to arraign a prisoner,  
Whose guilt does speak his sentence, but a person  
Not only most unblemished in his fame,  
But one to whom our country owes its life:  
Who with his dearest blood has balmed the wounds  
Which mischief's giant-off-springs, raising war,  
Cut in the bosom of the commonwealth.  Sen. 
We all confess his worth.  Tri. 
Yet this brave youth,  
This patron of our liberty, all his honours,  
His blood and titles, his defensive bays  
(That would have guarded his victorious front  
From blasts of lightning) laid aside, is come  
To tender satisfaction to the laws,  
He has offended, and since judgement is  
The immediate act of Justice, it must pass  
To save impartial censure on his life,  
As on the wretched'st malefactors; for  
His former merits cannot take away  
His present fault; for who ere is guilty  
Undoes the privilege of his desert and blood;  
For if great men offending pass unpunished,  
The common people who do use to sin,  
By their example fearless, will run on  
Into licentious wickedness.  Sen. 
Your grace delivers  
The intention of the state, no oracle  
Could have explained the meaning of our laws  
With more integrity.  Tri. 
Yet my good Lords,  
I speak not this, that my particular vengeance,  
Because slew he my kinsman, has the least  
Aim at his life, which I would strive to cherish  
As my own health, or as the City's peace,  
For Magistrates ought to behold their crimes,  
Not the committers, as the Poets feign  
Of wise Tiresias, to want eyes, and only  
Have seeing understanding, for a judge  
Is guilty of the fault he does not punish,  
And if rewards and triumphs do adorn  
Deserts 'tis just that shame and punishments  
Should wait on vices, and how much more worthy  
The person is that acts them, so far sharper  
Should be the penalty inflicted on him.  Sen. 
And when the law  
uses its utmost rigor, 'tis the crime,  
And not the man it sentences.  Tri. 
In brief We must  
Decline his merit, and forget  
Our gratitude, and since his hand is dipped  
In civil blood, his life must expiate what  
His arm unfortunately committed.  Dor. 
My Lords,  
The services which I have done the state,  
Were but my natural duty, I achieved 'em  
To gain me fame and glory, and you safety, and  
Should esteem them Traitors to honour, if their intercession  
Be a protection for my crimes, I mean not  
To plead to save a disrespected life,  
'cause I fear death, a sea encompassed rock  
Is not less timorous of the assaulting waves,  
Than I of the grim monster, but there is  
A fame surviving which I would be loath,  
Should tell posterity I tamely yielded  
My head to th' Axe, and died because my spirit  
Durst not desire to live to quit this scandal,  
I hope what I can urge in my defence  
Shall have indifferent hearing.  Tri. 
Speak freely.  Dor. 
Know then my intention  
Is not by excuse to extenuate my fact,  
Which I confess most horrid, and would I pay  
A thousand showers of sorrow, could this hand  
Re-edify that goodly from of flesh  
Which it demolished, but my priceless fame,  
In whose dear cause I slew him, will to justice  
Boldly proclaim, I did no more than what  
The truth I owe my reputation tells me,  
Was right in point of honour.  Tri. 
But the law  
Does disallow it as unjust, and that  
Must be your judge, and not that idle breath  
Which you abusively term honour.  Dor. 
Your laws cannot without partiality pronounce  
judgement against me, for they do acquit  
That man of guilt that to defend his life  
Is forced to slay his enemy; my act  
Carries the same condition, since my fame,  
Whose safety urged me to kill him, is my life,  
My immortal life, as far transcending this  
As the soul does the body, for the sword,  
Returns that to its primitive matter dust,  
And there it rests forgotten, but a wound  
Struck upon reputation, leaves a brand,  
So self diffusive is dishonours guilt,  
Even to posterity, and does revive  
After 'thas suffered martyrdom.  Sen. 
Yet this  
Cannot excuse your fact, for civil reason  
Allows a reparation for the loss  
Of fame, but gives no man a lawful licence  
To snatch the privilege from the hands of justice,  
Which would dispose it equally.  Dor. 
This strictness destroys all  
Right of manhood, since a coward  
May fearfully relying on this suffrage  
Of Law affront even valour's self, consider  
That the most cunning Pilot cannot steer man's  
Brittle vessel twixt these dangerous Rocks  
Of law and honour safely, sail by this,  
And on that suffer ship wrack, for suppose  
I had with patience borne this scandalous name  
Of a degenerate coward, I not only had  
Nipped the budding valour of my youth,  
As with a killing frost, but left a shame inherent  
To our family, disgraced  
My noble father's memory, defamed  
Nay cowarded my Ancestors, whose dust,  
Would 'a broke through the Marbles, to revenge  
To me this fatal infamy.  Ador 
Well urged, and resolutely.  Dor. 
Nay more, yourselves  
That hate the deed being done; would have detested  
The doer worse had it not been performed  
Withdrawn my charge i'th' army; as from one  
Protested for a coward, I might then  
Have abjured the trade of war, in which I have been nursed,  
Yet for preserving this unvalued gem  
Of precious honour that hangs on my soul,  
Like a well polished jewel in the care,  
Of the exactest beauty, must I suffer  
The laws stern rigor.  Tri. 
Sir I should refute  
With circumstance your wrong opinion, but in brief,  
Religious conscience, utterly disclaims  
An act so barbarous to take man's life,  
Is to destroy heaven's Image, and if those  
Are held as Traitors, and the law inflicts  
Severest tortures on them, who deface  
The stamps of Princes in their coin, can they appear,  
As guiltless whose rude hands disgrace  
The great creator's Image, and commit  
Treason 'gainst awful nature; Oh my Lord  
Collect your serious temper, and put off  
The over weening fantasies of youth,  
Consider what a vain deluding breath  
Is reputation, if compared with life.  
Think that an idle, or detracting word  
May by a fair submission (which our laws  
Of honour do require it will enforce)  
Be washed away, but the red guilt of blood  
Sticks as a black infection to the soul,  
That like an Aethiop cannot be washed white,  A shout within. Enter Corimba and Frangipan. 
Think upon this, and know I must with grief  
pronounce your fatal sentence.—  Fran. 
Do you hear General, I'll tell you news, you were in  
jeopardy to have had your little weasand slit; but I pronounce  
The happy word, be safe; his piece of beauty,  
By my persuasions does intend to take  
The edge of law off, and become your wife,  
True and inseparable.  Cor. 
With reverence to this presence, my good Lords,  
Know that I come not urged by heat of youth.  Fran. 
'tis true I'll bear her witness.  Cour 
Or any wanton or unchaste desire  
To beg this gentleman for my husband, neither  
To raise myself a fortune by the match,  
But moved in charity, and provoked in mind,  
With pity to behold a man so proper,  
Brought to an end untimely, by a death  
So scandalous to honour as the Axe,  
I come to crave our privilege, and desire him  
For my most lawful husband.  Tri. 
Gentle maid  
Your piety does prompt you to an act  
That shall engage your country to erect  
A statue to your memory, though I could not  
Dispense with justice, yet since there's a means  
Without the law's infringement, to preserve him,  
I do rejoice as much as if my son  
Had scaped apparent danger: go on and prosper  
In your design.  Dor. 
Do you think because I pleaded  
For my honour's life,  
I dote so much upon this idle breath,  
As to preserv't with infamy, dispose  
This womanish privilege to submissive slaves,  
Know that I hate a being that depends  
Upon another's bounty more than death,  
At which my soul does, like an Eagle stretch its  
Silver wines, and o'er the monster's head  
Will make flight at heaven; pray sit proceed  
To judgement suddenly, delay begets  
More tortures in me then your sentence.  Gor. 
What do you mean sir, pray let me understand you Better, look upon me, I am no woman to be slighted.  Fra. 
She's not ashamed to show her face, marry her Uncle, that I may call you so.  Sen. 
To wed this figure, is a far greater punishment than Death.  Ador. 
ne'er stand on terms, but marry her, and free your self, and trust to me, you shall not want a mistress has better colours in her face.  Dor. 
Corimba,  
I'm much engaged to your officious haste,  
And pay you many thanks, conceive not that  
I do contemn your person or dislike  
The meanness of your match, for were your beauty  
Created for a miracle, and adorned  
With the addition of a fortune ampler,  
Than that perfection, I should crave a licence  
To tell your modesty I am prepared  
Rather for death than Nuptials, and no strength  
Of prayers and beauty, shall have power to tempt me  
From my fixed resolution.  Tri. 
This is madness not courage Doria.  Cor. 
Sir I must tell you, you know not how to use a woman rightly,  
Perhaps 'tis bashfulness, take courage sir,  
I have reserved my dear virginity  
This fifty years for such a pious purpose,  
And should you slight me now, I should forswear  
Good purposes hereafter: gentlemen persuade him,  
Sure he cannot choose but melt  
At your entreaties.  Tri 
Will you then pull your ruin on; that seeks  Recorders. Enter Uitelli, and Sabelli, as a Lady. Virgins. 
Thus easily to fly from you; justice calls  
On me to give your sentence— new interruptions  
It is the voice of music, and presages  
An Omen as harmonious as its notes,  
Approach fair troops of Virgins, here's subject,  
Fit for your maiden pity.  Cor. 
'tis time for me to take my farewell, these may be beauties, perhaps my Lady may be one, adieu sir; you may be offered worse.  Ex. Cour, and Fran. Sab. 
My honoured Lord,  
The charity I owe my native country,  
That in the ruin of this brave young man,  
Would suffer infinitely, has forced us strive  
With early zeal first to present our duties  
For his redemption, 'mong ten thousand Virgins  
That would attempt it, and my true affection  
Has won this favour from my fellows, that  
To me they yield their interest, which I claim  
As my desired prerogative.  Tre. 
'tis an act the State will thank you for; unveil yourself,  
That we may know to whom we owe our gratitude,  
A most excelling beauty, such an eye  
Would tempt religious coldness to a flame,  
Thaw Ages chilly frost, at such a cheek  
The Spring might take a pattern to create,  
A most accomplished freshness; in her looks,  
Are modest signs of innocence, such as Saints  
Wear in their liveliest counterfeits: Doria, here  
A Lady begs you, whom if you refuse,  
The times would black you with the hateful title  
Of your own wilful murder; take her to you  
And live a fortunate husband.  Dor. 
Noble maid, my misery is so extreme a sin,  
It cannot meet your bounty without breach  
Of vows; which should I violate, would pull  
Eternal torments on me; keep your beauty  
For one whose soul, free as the air he breathes,  
Can yield a mutual fancy to your flame,  
And not destroy his honour, for your goodness  
Since my expired date, cannot yield you thanks  
Worthy the bound less merit of your love,  
If there can be a gratitude after death  
Expressed by prayers, my soul in heaven shall pay it  
To your kind charity.  Sab. 
Oh my Lord,  
I did expect this answer, my poor worth  
Cannot deserve your value; yet there is  
A constant purity in my thoughts, that intend you  
So much of Bliss, that had your safety no  
Dependence on my suit, it would be deemed  
Most cruel to contemn me, I have loved you  
These many years; wished you as many glories  
As I have numbered days, have vowed I never  
Will marry any man, but your blessed self my Lord,  
Should you neglect the justness of my request,  
Besides the danger waiting on your life,  
A thousand Virgins, whose unspotted prayers  
Like hosts of guardian Angels, would have borne  
You on their wings to heaven, will for my sake  
Convert their zeal to curses, and in tears  
Of anguish drown your memory.  Vit. 
Why friend, this is  
Such an o'erweening passion, as does question  
The soundness of your judgement, fills the world  
With a conceit you die; because your fears  
Dare not accept of life: Besides your Mistress,  
To whom you would so strictly keep your faith,  
Does so much scorn your constancy, that no  
Entreats could move her pity undertake  
This honourable employment.  Tri. 
Do it with speedy diligence.  Dor. 
Her causeless frailty  
Shall more confirm my truth:  
My Noble Lord pronounce  
My happy sentence, 'twill be welcome to me  Enter Priest & Executioner. 
As charming harmony, and swell my breast  
With more than humane pleasure.  Tri 
Are you come? approach,  
Behold this Executioner, and this Priest,  
This is to wed you to destruction, that  
To this rich Mine of purity: your choice  
May accept either: if you fix on this,  
Besides your own redemption, you enjoy  
A Lady, who may claim as many hearts  
As she has virtuous thoughts; but lean to that,  
Your Spring returns unpitied, to the rude  
Arms of perpetual winter, that will freeze you  
To a ne'er melting icicle, be sudden,  
And wise in your election.  Dor. 
'tis but vain: a Saint may sooner be o'ercome to sell  
His native Piety: come thou grim man,  
Thou art to me more lovely than the face of perfect  
Beauty: Do thy office, it will free me  
From these perplexities.  Sab. 
Well my Lord,  
Since I'm unworthy to enjoy in life  
Your fair society, my soul shall haste  
To wait on you to death, there is no bliss  
Without your presence, since you will not have  
Mercy on your own life, by your example  
I'll be as harsh to mine, I'll go  
Before you to the other world,  
And be your loved Ghosts Harbinger.  Tri. 
Hold, hold the Lady—  Sab. 
Let no hand presume to seize me,  
For the meanest touch that shall  
Endeavour to prevent my will  
Shall urge my speedier ruin: Good my Lord,  
Shall I have answer? I would fain be going  
On my long journey.  Dor. 
I'm confounded  
In my imagination, I must yield,  
You have enforced a benefit upon me, I  
Can hardly thank you for, yet I will try  
To love you as my wife; that I were lost  
In Clouds of black forgetfulness.  Tri. 
My Lord,  
Your pardon's sealed as soon as by the Priest  
You are conjoined in marriage:  
I'll not leave you  
Till't be solemnised, Hymen light thy Pine,  
Death's tapers fade at the clear flame of thine.  Exeunt. 
The end of the fourth Act.   

Actus Quintus.  Enter Trivulci, Doria, Sabelli, Adorni, Priest and Virgins. Tri. 
IS the Priest prepared  
For his Hymn after Nuptials, and the virgins  
Ready to gratulate the Bride, and Bridegroom  
With the appointed dance?  Ador. 
The Priest I think  
Has the song perfect, but it is a question  
Among the wisest, whether in the City  
There be seven Virgins to be found to furnish  Recorders. 
The dance as't should be; but you must accept them  
With all their faults; this music speaks their entrance.  Enter Virgins. 

Song.  
TRiumph appear, Hymen invites  
Thee to wait upon this feast,  
Mix thy joys with his delights,  
'Tis the General is chief guest.  
Bid the Drum not leave to teach,  
The Soldiers fainting heart to beat,  
Nor wars loud music Canon cease,  
Breasts with deathful fire to heat.  
Thy waving Ensigns in the air display,  
The General lives, 'tis triumphs Holiday;  
Come bright virtues that reside  
In heaven, as in your proper sphere,  
Though all contained in the fair bride,  
Chastity do thou first appear,  
With Temperance and innocent grace,  
Rose-coloured Modesty and truth,  
Dance harmless measures in this place,  
With health, and a perpetual youth:  
And all your Virgin Trophies bring away,  
To grace these Nuptials, Triumphs Holiday.   A Dance. Tri. 
You have our hearty thanks, and we shall study  
To give you fair requital; come my Lord  
Erect your drowsy spirits, let your soul,  
Dance airy measures in your jocund breast;  
This is a day on which each Bridegroom ought  
To wear no earth about him; air and fire  
Are Hymen's proper elements, your mirth  
Ought to infuse into your frolic guests,  
An humour apt for revelling and sport:  
Your disposition is more dull, than if  
You were to be chief muttoner at a corpse:  
For shame shake off this sadness.  Ador. 
It becomes you to say truth scurvily, I do not like it,  
You look as if you'd lost some victory,  
Of which your hope had an assurance: Shall I tell your Lordship  
A very pleasant story?  Enter Vitelli. Dor. 
It must be, if it be delightful to me, a discourse  
Of some quick means to free me from this cruel  
Oppressive weight of flesh, which does entomb  
My martyred soul, that like to sulphury fire  
Hid in a mountain's entrails, strives to burst  
The prison, and fly upwards; it must needs  
Be a sad wedding, when the Bridegroom wears  
His Nuptial livery on his eyes in tears.  Vit. 
Friend, this is  
A passion too effeminate for a heart  
Endued with manly courage; things past help  
Should be past thought, your sadness casts a Cloud  
Upon the lustre of this Lady's looks,  
You make her dim the brightness of her eyes  
With unbecoming tears, if you continue  
This strange distraction.  Sab. 
Alas my Lord,  
Let me participate your cause of sorrow,  
And be a willing partner in your grief,  
Which like a violent Current that o'erflows  
The neighbouring fields and meadows in its rage,  
Into two streams divided, smoothly runs,  
Kissing with calm lips the imprisoning banks,  
Would, though too mighty for you, when my soul  
Should vent a part of it, be mild, and pass  
Away without disturbance of your peace,  
Which to procure I would even burst my heart  
With sighs devoted to your quiet, and  
Become a loving fountain by my tears  
I shed without intermission.  Dor. 
Gentle Lady,  
I am at such an enmity with fate,  
Makes me incapable of aught but grief,  
But I shall study to declare how much  Enter Eurione, Chrisea, Corim. Lact. & Bon. 
I am indebted to your care— good heaven  
Send down some Angel to protect my heart,  
Or my religion will scarce stay my hand,  
For acting wilful violence on my life,  
I have sucked poison from her eyes, that will  
Like to juice of Hemlock drown my soul  
In a forgetful Lethargy, or oppress  
My temperate faculties with madness.  Tri. 
x you're welcome, know this virtuous Lady  
Who has redeemed the General.  Chri. 
Sir, i'm come to gratulate your beauteous bride, and wish you joys immortal.  Sab. 
I hope Madam, my innocence has gi'n you no offence,  
That you refuse me, being a stranger to you,  
The Ceremonious wishes, which pertain  
To new made Brides, and only do confer them  
Upon my Lord.  Chri. 
Your happiness already,  
Is so superlative, I cannot think  
A new addition to it, you enjoy  
The very sum of fortune in your match,  
To such a noble and illustrious husband.  
I no longer can hold my passion in,  
These walls of flesh are not of  
Strength sufficient to contain  
My big swollen heart: My Lords behold a creature  
So infinitely wretched, I deserve not  
The meanest show of pity, who have, like  
A silly merchant, trifled away a gem,  
The darling of the quarry, lost a love  
By my too foolish niceness, to regain  
Whose forfeiture I would lay down my life:  
But he is gone for ever, and I left  
A piteous spectacle for the reproach  
And scorn of wiser women.  Eur. 
Is this possible?  
Was all her passion to Vitelli feigned?  
My hopes recover life again.  Tri. 
Why Chrisea,  
Whence springs this passionate fury?  Chri. 
Oh my Lord,  
When you shall hear it, you will sigh for me,  
And shed a charitable tear, at thought  
Of my unkind disaster: sir my Justice  
Cannot accuse your constancy, which stood  
In the first trial of your love, as fast  
And spotless as an Alabaster rock,  
That had it but persisted in that height  
Of honourable loyalty, your glory  
Had been advanced to heaven, as the fix't star,  
To guide all lovers through the rough  
Seas of affection.  Uit. 
This taxation  
Cannot be just from you, who did enforce  
The sad revolt upon him.  Dor. 
Is there in heaven no friendly  
bolt left that will strike this frame into  
The centre, and set free a wretch  
(So overgrown with misery) from life,  
That death would be a comfort above health,  
Or any worldly blessing, may time blot my name out  
Of his Book, that such a Prodigy  
May not affright succession, nor stick  
Like an o'erspreading Leprosy upon  
The beauteous face of manhood.  Chri. 
Oh my Lord, each grief of which  
You're sensible, is mine, and not your  
Torment, every sigh you breath is an  
Afflicting motion, expired by my vexed  
Spirit, and if you could weep, each drop  
Would be my blood, who am the spring  
Of the whole flood of sorrow; oh forgive  
The too exceeding honour of my love, I would  
Have had you for your perfect truth so glorious;  
Your loyalty should not for  
Preservation of your fame, have needed  
To adopt a statue for its heir, or builded a  
Monumental pyramid, but love  
Is ofttimes loves undoing.  Tri. 
This is such  
A cunning labyrinth of,  
Sorrow, that no clew  
Can lead them out of.  Dor. 
It would be  
A great affront to misery, should there live  
A person half so wretched to outdare  
The strength of my affliction, methinks  
I me like some aged mountain that has stood  
In the seas watery bosom, thousand shocks  
Of threatning tempests, yet by th' flattering waves,  
That cling and curl about his stony limbs,  
Is undermined and ruined, I have scaped  
Wars, killing, dangers, and by peaceful love,  
Suffer a strange subversion, Oh Chrisea,  
While I have reason left that can distinguish  
Things with a cool and undistracted sense,  
Let's argue mildly the unhappy cause  
Of our undoings.  Eur. 
Truly sister,  
'Twas a suspicious rashness, I could wish  
You never had attempted.  Chri. 
My Lord,  
Humane condition always censures things  
By their event, my aims have had success  
So strangely hapless, that will blast the truth  
Of their intentions purity, I never  
Harboured the least suspicion of your faith,  
Which I did strive to perfect, by the test,  
As richest gold refined, and purged  
From dross of other baser metals, and besides  
The trial of your constancy, I meant  
To sound Vitelli's depth; upon whose love  
My sister doted, so that I was loath  
To see her cast the treasure of her heart  
Upon a stranger, of whose constancy  
She had too small assurance.  Tri. 
Gentle x,  
Your good intents encountered bad success,  
But I ad mire, since you must needs have notice  
Of his disaster, that the law would pass  
Upon his life, you did not to prevent  
All other virgin intercessors haste  
To pay the early tribute of your love.  Chri. 
My wretched fate  
With a too quick prevention has o'erthrown  
The justness of my purpose,  
I relied so much upon his nobleness, I thought  
The ugly horror of a thousand deaths  
Could not have moved his temper, and besides,  
Knowing his mighty courage, I permitted  
The law proceed upon him, that hereafter  
He might be sure no merit can appear  
Offended justice, otherwise I could  
Easily have stopped this mischief.  Enter Bonivet. Tri. 
How Chrisea? I understand you not.  Chri. 
Lady, to quit all scruple that I do not wish  
Yours and your Lords succeeding happiness, I'll offer  
Something as an oblation that shall add de  
Peace to your nuptial garland (see my Lord)  
My x Bonivet lives.  Tri. 
Lives? Lactantio did not you inform us  
That he was dead, and you had caused his body  
To be prepared for funeral? which occasioned  
The general's sudden trial, because our custom  
Does not permit the corpses to be entombed,  
Before the murderer have his sentence, sir you shall know  
What 'tis to mock the state thus.  Lact. 
Good my Lord  
Hear but my just excuse, I am so much the fair  
Chrisea's beauty's by such ties  
Obliged to serve her, that I choose to hazard  
The anger of the state ere her displeasure,  
And do submit me to your gracious censure.  Chri. 
I must confirm't,  
Sir it was I who caused him to conceal  
My x Bonivet, for the causes which  
I did declare before, and now myself  
Having received a satisfying proof  
Of his affection, came resolved to clear  
These misty errors, but my cruel fate  
Has like a sudden storm which has beat down  
A goodly field of standing Corn even ripe  
For the laborious sickle, crushed my hopes  
In one sad minute into nothing.  Sab. 
My Lord I owe  
Such an obedient duty to your peace,  
That though my heart does wish to wait on yours  
For ever; since I see betwixt this Lady  
And you such firm apparences of love,  
If the law please to allow it, I resign  
My interest to her and be fortunate  
To see you two live happy.  Vit. 
Since the marriage  
Has not arrived to consummating act,  
I do believe this may be done.  Tri. 
Do not delude  
Your favour with vain hopes, the law cannot  
Dispense with the strict Cannon, 'tis impossible  
You should be separated.  Dor. 
This happiness  
Was too extremely good to be confirmed  
To such a wretch as I am: I am like  
One that did dream of a huge mass of wealth,  
And catching at it, grasped the fleeting air,  
And waking grieves at the delusion.  Sab. 
Sir resume your ancient quiet, the formal  
Love shall not oppose your peace, I'll disannul  
The marriage easily, and most noble Lord  
Pardon your humble servant.  Dor. 
Sure this is  
Some apparition to confirm my faith,  
Speak, art thou my Sabelli.  Vit. 
Yes 'tis he, fate would not suffer two such  
Noble souls to be so disunited, gentle boy,  
Thy duty to thy Master will continue,  
Thy name in story, as the great example  
Of loyalty in servants.  Sab. 
'Twas the zeal I ought in duty to my Mrs. life,  
Hath put me on the attempt, which if he pardon,  
I'm fully satisfied.  Dor. 
My joys does with a sudden ecstasy oppress  
My frail mortality, and I should sink,  
Wert not for my supporters, my Sabelli,  
Thou hast restored two lovers to their bliss,  
Whose gratitude shall pay to thy desert  
The tribute of their hearts: Dear Madam, now  
I hope your scrupulous doubts will remain free  
From any new suspicion.  Chri. 
Since I have scaped the danger past, believe I'll avoid  
The like hereafter; my Lord please you confirm  
My choice; and let my sister be disposed  
To good Vitelli, he deserves her.  Tri. 
Your wishes are fulfilled, x Bonivet welcome to life  
Again; you and the General must be friends.  Dor. 
Your goodness will pardon my misfortune?  Bon. 
And desire to be esteemed your servant.  Enter Frangipan. Fran. 
With your leave gentlemen: Madam I have such news to tell you, as will tickle your understanding, to believe the General is married; and more, Signior Doria, Lord Bonivet lives; That's lucky news for you.  Dor. 
He's here, good Signior Frangipan.  Fran. 
My news has ever the worst luck; I must resolve to leave it off.  Ador. 
But sir I have some sudden news to tell you:  
The thousand Ducats you contracted to pay me,  
When you could understand the French as perfectly  
As myself; by all these Lords indifferent judgement is  
Due on this very minute.  Fran. 
This is news indeed; you do not mean to make a gull of me, a figo for a thousand Ducats: as I am a gentleman I know not French for any thing, not for an Ass: good your grace let me not be abused.  Cor. 
'Twas I my Lord who made the bargain with him,  
The money is not due until my cousin  
Have French as perfect as himself.  Dor. 
He has, I'll bear him witness; for Adorni Speaks not one true French word.  Fran. 
How not one true French Word?  Ador. 
No not a word, you must disburse.  Fran. 
Tutor, I'll tell you news,  
You made a fool of me,  
I could abuse him horribly,  
If I durst for fear of beating.  Ador. 
My Lord  
If he will undertake wars,  
I'll quit my bargain.  Fran. 
I'll pay it triple first, the name of war Has brought an age on me.  Tri. 
You two agree that: cousins I rejoice  
To see this happy period of your loves.  
Let's back unto the Temple, that the Priest  
May by his sacred power unite your hearts.  
Lead to the Temple.  Exeunt.   

The Epilogue.  Frangipan. 
GEntlemen, I'll tell you News, the Play is done,  
And he that writ it betwixt hope and Fear  
Stands pensive in the Tiring-house to hear  
Your Censures of his Play: Good Gentlemen  
Let it be kind, or otherwise his Pen  
Will write but dully, for he needs must lack  
If you dispraised the quickening Spirit of Sack  
To inflame his Genius, which you'll ever find  
Devoted to you, if your Votes be kind.  
FINIS.