SICILY AND NAPLES, OR, THE FATAL uNION. A Tragedy. By S. H. A. B. è C. Ex:  
— dignum est sub luce videri,  
judicis argutum quod non formidat acumen.  
OXFORD, Printed by WILLIAM TURNER. 1640.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Ferrando King of Naples.  
Virginio Ursini His favourite.  
Alphonso An humourous old Lord.  
Valenzo A noble General  
Galeotto Three Captains.  
Contareno Three Captains.  
Gonçales Three Captains.  
Piero A Courtier, friend to Valenzo.  
Bentivogli A Physician.  
Zisco  
Cassio Creatures of Ursini.  
Grutti Creatures of Ursini.  
Fungoso Creatures of Ursini.  
Sylvio Page to Calantha.  
Servants.  
Guard.  
Calantha Daughter of Sicily.  
Charintha Niece to Ferrando.  
Violetta Two Sicilian Ladies.  
Florinda Two Sicilian Ladies.   

Mentioned,  
King of Sicily.  
Alberto marquess of Durazzo.   
The SCENE. NAPLES.   

To the Reader.  
Reader,  
IN Publishing this Tragedy I have so far sinned against the modesty of my friend, that there is nothing sufficient to to excuse me, but thy favour: Those that have dared dislike it already, would grow proud, if by presenting it to the common view, I did not show for what a nothing I esteem their censures; whatsoever syllable there be, that they ever cavilled at, is therefore not omitted, that thou may'st have wherein, or to laugh at their vain Criticising, or to show thine own candour; I doubt not but in thy approbation they shall see, what poor imaginary Hercules's they were that had no other Monsters to combat here, but what themselves made. That it was envied the glory which it might have received from the Stage, may be one reason to commend it to thee, since in this kind there is little now adays not applauded, but what is good: And for mine own part I was never so maliciously uncharitable, as to go about to undo at once, the Stationer, and my Friend's credit. Thou shalt pardon me this only fault, that I have hereby dulled that praise, which thyself might'st have received in making a good play, since I have laid before thee so fair a copy to write by. I dare not hope but it will be equally unexpected, and unwelcome to the Author, to see the world acquainted with this toy, (as he usually terms it,) which himself hath by this even learned to forget: Thy acceptance shall be my apology to him, and indeed I may justly challenge of thee a more than ordinary good will, since I have hazarded the loss of his love, only that I might show myself  
Thy friend, and servant P. P.   

To my deserving friend S: H: on his excellent Tragedy, called the Fatal Union.  
Ingenious friend,  

T' adorn thy head, Apollo will not spare  
From violence his Daphne's tempting hair;  
Lo you the Muses carrying circled boughs  
Strive, who should first come near, and wreathe thy brows;  
But sad Melpomene, (who knows her right  
And title to the matter that you write.)  
Casts off the heavy buskins, which she wore,  
Quickens her leaden pace, and runs before;  
Hies to pale shakespeare's urn, and from his tomb  
Takes up the bays, and hither she is come;  
Thalia is her second who concludes  
Thee hers, from thy true Comic interludes;  
The rest on Clio lay their crowns, that fame,  
mayn't want a bay's, when she but sings thy name.   

BEN is deceased, and yet I dare avow.  
(Without that book) BEN's redivivus now,  
I could believe a Metempsychosis,  
And that thy soul were not thine own, but his  
Or else the Genius which did wait upon  
His worthy quill serves thee, now he is gone;  
But I observe this difference, thy brain  
Vents fancies with a pleasure, his with pain;  
His were mature indeed, they went full time  
Before they were delivered into time;  
Thine were conceived, brought forth at once, yet may  
As they are fair, be as long-lived as they;  
Who reads thy play-work (Friend) needs not compel,  
Or force thy lines to make them parallel  
With his, unless 'cause thou contract'st in one  
Small part, what he in a whole play has done.   

His humorists in thy Alphonso lie:  
Sejanus, Catiline's damned treachery  
Lives in Ursini's treasons, there is not  
BEN's Fox can scape the policy o'th' plot.   

'Tis true, thine never walked upon the stage.  
In fine, gay clothes (the praisers of this age,)  
Nor in a full thronged theater didst beg  
Confused applause, with a cringed Courtiers leg;  
Such flatteries would abuse thy poem, thou  
Hadst ne'er an entrance, though an exit now;  
Thine is exposed unto the world's large eye,  
In it's unchanged and native infancy,  
Before some player's brain new drenched in sack  
does clap each term new fancies on it's back;  
Or in its front 't bearsbeares this apology  
For th'Stationer, it took his Majesty,  
After a third presentment, thou hast none  
Of these poor succours, thine is mere thy own;  
And that so singular as thou may'st dare  
The quickest wit, severest censurer  
To view't, review it, and at length receive  
From thy intended enemy a wreath,   
NICH. DOWNEY, A. B. è C. Ex.   

To my loving friend S. H. on his Tragedy entitled SICILY and NAPLES, or the FATAL UNION.  

WOnder not (friend) if I admire thy pen  
That has so lively drawn the deaths of men,  
And in such deeper scenes of Tragedy,  
Has clothed thy fury Comic-witty:  
Thy lines run smooth, and lofty, and express  
At once their terror, and their pleasantness:  
Th' haste mingled mirth with horror, and hast shown  
Delight and cruelty composed in one.   

Ferrando, and Calanth' are re-enlivened,  
And have from thee their tomb, and birth derived:  
Naples, and Sicily do owe their glory  
To thee for this their everliving story;  
Thy hand proclaims their fame, thy pen has lent  
Their Chronicles a grace; and supplement:  
And what before was Fatal, now's become  
A Happy, and a lasting Union.   
Rob: Stapylton, A. B. Aul. Alban.   

To my dear friend the Author on his FATAL UNION.  

THus (Friend) the bays still flourish; Johnson dead,  
Randolph deceased, they fall to crown thy head;  
Yet see, how full his flowing fancy meets  
With thy rich Genius! and sweetly greets  
Thy firstborn infant, making almost one  
A jealous, and a Fatal Union:  
Thine is a full, stuffed, fluent wit, that speaks  
Merely its own; not like the running leaks  
Of a cracked crazy brain, that dribbles forth  
Either but little, or what's little worth;  
His strains lift high too, thine mount; all confess  
Both tire expression with a curious dress,  
And trick it up so neatly, 't doth surpass;  
The Muses sure lent both a lookingglass;  
The difference (if any) this may be,  
Chame brought him up, but Isis fostered thee.   

'Twixt thee and him (Great BEN!) a parallel  
Would chance strike credit deaf, make envy swell,  
Swell then who list, and burst; since dead's thy heir,  
He's to thy wit the sole Executer:  (T. Randolph.) 
The legacies being paid, all he assayes,  
S'no more than what he well deserves, thy bays:  
His Muse but yet new borne hath felt thy fate;  
And like thine glories in the rabble's hate;  
As soon as she had life, she was wished dead,  
Or under her own ashes buried;   

But now a glorious Phoenix raised is she  
From this and her supposed Tragedy.   
RICH. DODDRIDGE. A. B. C. Exon.   

To my good friend the Author.  

IF fancy, language, wit, deserve the praise  
That's due to Poets, (friend,) then take the bays;  
For this thy Poem who so reads, in it  
Shall find a lofty fancy, a quick wit,  
In such smooth language clad, so pure, so free  
From affectation, or obscurity,  
That nothing here's superfluous, lest to be  
Full fraught with wit, be superfluity:   

'Tis policy in some, whose works are lame,  
To set their friends i'th' front, that their false fame  
May make their lines be read; others, whose worth  
Deserves all praise, as foils to set them forth:  
Such friends are we to you, our lines and we  
Serve but for foils unto thy work, and thee,  
Which to itself and you can only raise  
An everlasting Monument of praise.   
A. SHORT. A. B. C. Exon.   

To my friend the Author on his FATAL UNION.  

WHat? Printed though not acted? does this age  
Use to employ the Press before the Stage?  
Perhaps thy Tragedy did claim such state  
As none of us should fitly personate:  
Or swelled so full of fancy, we might fear  
A pleasant surfeit taken through the ear;  
How as distraught with too much sense, we find  
Calantha show her fixed, unsettled mind;  
Distraction clothed in such a dress of wit,  
That even stayed judgements well may envy it:  
Them thrice, thrice happy I esteem to be  
That are endued with such rare Lunacy.   

Felicia from her sex, and friends exiled,  
Is pregnant with conceits, as great with child:  
While we moved by her passion, love her more,  
Than e'er she doted on the Prince before.  
Methinks Valenzo, and Charintha meet  
Chastely though yet unmarried, in one sheet;  
At length the wished Catastrophe combines  
Her myrtle and his bay, in amorous twines:   

Ursini to our censure doth commend  
A faithless Traitor, though most truly penned,  
And masked Zisco, though thrice blacker now,  
Richly: deserves the Readers Candid brow:  
Thy quill upholds Ferrando's royalty,  
Who before Naples' King, s'now crowned by thee;  
Changing the golden circlet of his brow  
For verdant sprigs, cropped from thy Laurel bough:  
Thy interludes so apt, their quaintness such,  
Our mirth doth make us wrong thy plot too much;  
To which (like thy Physician) straight we fly,  
Abhorring others skilfullest harmony.   

Go on, brave Genius, though some fool's control  
The envied soaring of thine active soul.   
ED: HALL. A. B. C. Exon.   

To the Author on his FATAL UNION.  

INstead of high reared trophies to thy praise  
Thou'st raised up envious tongues, to blast thy bays;  
For th' Muses, and their darling Poets be  
Conjoined in one sad plot, to ruin thee:  
The Muses charge thee with flat Felony,  
Complaining thou hast robbed their treasury,  
And left them dowerless; Then the Poets plot,  
Is how to stain thee with extortions blot;  
Since th' haste engrossed all wit, and set a price.  
So high, that he's undone whoever buys;  
So that their best endeavours, with small wares  
Must be packed up, to visit Country Fairs;  
Or lie neglected, till some hand assign  
Perhaps that happy chance, to cover thine:  
But let them spit their gall; whilst we admire  
The mounting flames of thy poetic fire:   

Go on to stir their envy; since blind fate  
Dotes only on the worst, purchase her hate.   
IOH: HALL. Jur: Stud: Aul: Alb.   

To the Author.  

THe Fatal sisters sure are muses grown,  
Else whence proceeds this Fatal Union?  
Or Muses Fatal sisters we descry  
Those in thy Play, these in thy Tragedy:  
I'th' front o'th' book, a troop all pressed to be  
Guards to thy Naples, and fair Sicily,  
So many lines, and thou their centre; quills  
To imp thy winged Pegasus, and rills  
Paid to thy Hippocrene, a tribute show,  
Which we as subjects to thy crown do owe,  
Leaves to thy Laurel; not to deck thy head,  
But strew the way, wherein thy buskins tread,  
As at thy muse's marriage; whom till now  
We thought confined by some o'er-maiden vow  
To live encloistered; and for want of men  
Woo images, and pictures; but thy pen  
Has made her now a Mother; see her laid  
In Genial sheets, where she's no more a Maid,  
But a chaste Prostitute; nay more I'll swear  
She is, O— a female ravisher:  
For which, as a cracked Vestal, some did strive  
With vain attempts to bury her alive;  
Things hid in wide-sleeve gowns, all you can see  
Of Artists in them is, they're come t' A.B.  
Men that thy play, as some new lesson con,  
And hack, and mangle thy blessed Union;  
Poor fools! I pity them; how would they look,  
If at the bar BEN JOHNSON were their book?  
His fox would on these geese revenge thee so,  
We should no hissing but i'th' Common know;  
Nor need they other halter, Catiline  
Affords them rope enough, in each strong line:  
But thou may'st pardon them, whose spite has made  
Thee famous, whilst, like the sad owl afraid  
Of wrens, thou hast unto thy Ivy fled,  
And where thou thought'st to hide, hast crowned thy head:  
They now must stand, and gaze with us, which be  
Alas too ignorant to censure thee.   

We know not whether we should wring our hands,  
Or clap them at thy poem, which commands  
As much our grief as pleasure, not an eye  
That reads, but acts in tears thy Tragedy:  
Nay we are more than actors, thou may'st call  
Us mourners, and thy play a funeral:  
Champions all steel, (which ne'er shed drop but those  
Forced from their veins, not by their friends, but foes,)  
At each sad accent, swear they're stabbed i'th' eye,  
Betray their babies there, and downright cry.   

But when we turn our eyes, and mark thy vein.  
Straight our too much of joy is all our pain,  
We stand enchanted, every word appears  
A charm, lines circles, letters characters,  
Which ravish us to frenzy: had we seen  
It acted, sure thy Tragedy t'had been;  
Our claps had thunderstruck thee, thou wouldst call  
This hand a club, that Brontes iron maul,  
Tother Pyrachmon's, the loud scene would be  
Their forge, (the Aetna of thy Sicily,)  
Thundering upwards: but thy Muse doth need  
No claps, or loud applause, (like swans which breed  
Only in noise) to give her issues birth,  
No Hums, nor damn-me-boys to set her forth:  
Scorning all glory that is not her own,  
Nor needing a Blackfriars shaven crown,  
(As some,) to wisp her temples, though put forth  
So poor, that sixpence charge buys all she's worth;   

She'll out-blaze bright Aglaura's shining robe:  
Her scene shall never change, the world's her Globe.   
S. HALL. A. M. C. Exon:   

Reader. Before thou proceedest farther, mend with thy pen these few escapes of the press: The delight & pleasure I dare promise thee to find in the whole, will largely make amends for thy pains in correcting some two or three syllables.  
Pag. 1. l. 16. for in r. on. p. ib. l. 17. f. their's r. they're. ib. l. 19. deal too. p. 2. l. 18. f. cold lazy r. cold and lazy. p. 4. l. 13. f. our divided r. our long divided. p. 8. l. 8. deal had. p. 9. l. 20. f. come r. came. p. 14. l. 25. deal (with musicians) p. 25. l. 34. f. these o'er r. these are. p. ib. l. 35. f. you r. you. p. 27. l. 8. f. run r. run. out. p. 29. l. 11. f. thee, r. thee. p. 33. l. 20. f. that joy r. those jo yes. p. 35. l. 25. f. whither r. wither. p. 37. l. 9. f. have r. leave. p. 38. l. 3. f. wild, r. wide. p. 60.3. f. auger r. anger. p. 85. l. 17. f. thinks r. thanks. p. 91. f. forfeited r. surfeited.   

SICILY and NAPLES, OR The Fatal Union.  

ACT. I.  

SCEN. I.  A March within, the word, 1. stand, 2. stand, 3. stand: drum beats a summons, trumpets sound: then enter Valenzo, Contareno, Galeotto. Val. 
THere, take your orders, and dispatch;  
Your known faiths will not let me doubt th'observance  
Of the least circumstance.  Gal: 
Yet give me leave (most noble General  
To ask the reason, since his Highness lest  
A free dispose at his departure, why  
You should use so much severity in your commands?  Cont. 
Not a man enter the city in forfeiture of his life? their's somewhat hard conditions; I've entered a Kingdom, and helped to win it too, on far easier terms; this o'th' sudden, and so unexpected too may meet with a harsh construction.  Gal. 
For mine own part, I've been so long absent,  
Especially being a poor servant to the state too,  
I dare conclude I'm lost to all their memories;  
Nor do I love the Camp so ill, to part with it  
To win upon their faiths; urge a tedious catalogue  
Of my dead ancestors, and then search records  
To show I was their countryman; all this  
For a cold welcome, or an annual pension;  
To show my scores of wounds, that tally up  
So many months pay behind hand: which  
After seven years' misery in an hospital,  
Shall be both wiped off together: yet all  
Are not of my humour.  Cont. 
What though your dull fat Senators, those land-Porpices  
That skip, and frisk i'th' storm they ne'er are hurt with,  
Those heavy lubbers, leapt in sweaty furs,  
battening on sleep and ease, lie snorting out  
The peace poor Soldiers purchase,  
And not so much as dream of toil, or danger,  
Sleight what they are ignorant of: yet you (my Lord)  
May know, if cold lazy recompenses injure  
Our high deserts such usage kills outright:  Gal. 
True Contareno, that is their intent.  Cont. 
'Las we bring no diseases home with us, unless valour be one; no meager troops of thin starvelings, that they should fear a famine from our commerce, we have fed high, though somewhat irreverently: nor return we in our old skins, blue coats, thrummed caps, that harbour so much vermin, they might fear we'd scatter one of Egypt's plagues among them; and make 'em all lousy.  Val. 
Enjoy the freedom of your speech; yet know  
That they are ignorant of these in junctions,  
And for a testimony of their loves  
Unto your fair deservings, are all ready  
To meet their country's patriots, (so they term you)  
After their ancient custom, with procession;  Gal. 
Show us an enemy then, or danger that is real,  
And not the birth of fear, and we'll return:  Val. 
Nay, you may stay at home too:  Gal. 
At home?  Cont. 
'Tis so:  
Our sons of peace have caught a surfeit, & would be physicked  
for't. ha! do they mutiny? do the fierce rams advance  
their horns, to batter down the walls that kept them safe?  Val. 
Be more composed and hear me, though you hate  
Treason as ill as cowardice, yet I must  
Tell you, you're the men have brought  
The enemy home to Naples, I mean the army:  
For what less can I term such a vast body,  
Consisting of such disproportioned members;  
Fleshed with the spoils of fertile Sicily,  
Enriched with what a happy soil can yield  
To an insulting conqueror; fed too  
With glorious hopes of ease, and plenty?  
You know how hard a task you underwent  
To govern them abroad, when tamed by want,  
Thirst, hunger, heat, and cold; judge then what sway  
Authority can bear, when by this change  
They are grown mad, and mutinous; who shall  
Compose their private jars, and quarrels, when  
Their full cups add fury to their pride?  Gal. 
Enough: this speech hath cut of all reply,  Val. 
Besides, you know Sicily is now in Naples;  
The Prince a captive to his Prisoner:  
How far his easy nature may be wrought upon  
Is yet uncertain, his years though they have outdone  
History, are not yet grown up to the ripeness of experience  
For my severity; (I'd gladly have  
You call it by another name;) it is  
My duty, (if not yours) I take it, to be vigilant.  Gal. 
My Lord, think what I spoke was but to gain  
Satisfaction, which you have amply given.  Cont. 
And what should I do i'th' City? that retain  
No more of my education there, than what I gained  
In the Artillery yard: my company  
Would be shunned there more than poverty,  
Or a disease; I should be interdicted  
The Court, merely because I'm out of fashion,  
Or for fear of challenges— Troth for the Ladies,  
The homeliest please me best; I am as much  
Too rough hewn for them, as they're to polished for me:  
My constitution requires a dispatch  
I'th' vaulting business, beyond that of tedious  
Niceties, and witty prologues.  Val. 
Gongales', and Petrucchio's regiment  
I've left aboard to guard the fleet, yours must  
Make safe the Castle, and the land forts; you  
Cannot endear me more than by your circumspection;  
The City will be all in triumph at  
These nuptials, twixt our divided houses;  
Think these Sicilians, though you have won  
And forced them to groan beneath your sword, may yet  
At heart be traitors; if not, opportunity  
May make them so; at such a time as this  
Surprise is easy; history hath such examples,  
Unfortunate ones; and you'd be loath to add  
Unto the number.  Gal. 
You have chalked out a way  
That leads to honour, and we are hasty  
To pursue it:  Val. 
I shall report you noble.  Cont. 
And General, d'ye hear, if you meet with  
Ere a masculine feminine, that has impudence  
Enough, to follow an army, a wench of twagging haunches,  
And full things, fend her to me, she shall be my laundress.  Val. 
Good Captain be less wild, and use me,  
To the loss of honour.  Exeunt Captains.  

ACT: 1. SCEN. II.  Valenzo, a servant. Enter Piero. Val. 
Didst meet with him?— he's here already.  Valenzo runs to embrace him, Piero retires. Piero! 
— why this distance?  
Is't in the power of several climes to break  
Our sympathies in nature? true, I have  
been long estranged from you, not from your virtue;  
Why then should you deny your strict embraces?  Pier. 
Valenzo! you are grown too great, and glorious  
For my friendship; become a theme for Princes,  
Whose worthy acts enrich their high discourse:  
The greedy multitude, snatching each word,  
As it falls from 'em, wear your praise  
As their best ornament!  Val. 
How have I lost my friend,  
And see Piero, for being so thou wouldst  
Nor mock, nor flatter me!  Pier. 
Alas Valenzo!  
You prejudice your PRINCE's wisdom, and  
Your own just merits, those favours yet  
Were never worn by them, that had not first  
Deserved them.  Val. 
You mean these titles, vain and empty names;  
Let me enjoy thee still, I'll disinvest  
myself of all additions, can but swell  
Our pride, not virtue up; my Ancestors  
Have left me rich enough in title to  
Your friendship, and fore I forfeit that!—  
That we could mingle souls.—  (Embrace.) Pier. 
Though you be prodigal of your affections,  
Yet be not cruel to your Charintha,  
Who must needs suffer in this wilful scorn,  
You throw on that your valour dearly purchased.  Val 
Charintha mine! I hold all worth in her.  Pier. 
Were you as monstrous for impiety, as now  
You are famed for virtue, such was her pious thrift,  
In treasuring up her clean and humble prayers,  
You could not die unpardoned, every hour  
(As you are always liable to danger,)  
Can witness, with what forward zeal she begged  
Heaven, to avert the stroke before it came:  
We have taken so much pleasure in her orisons,  
That even profane men to have heard her pray,  
Would turn devout, were there no merit in't.  Val. 
No more; my reason yields unto my passion.  
And 'tis a joy requires me meet it with  
My best temper; I would not surfeit  
Nor swallow it too greedily; some light mixture  
Of grief would give a relish to't; tell me, come—  
What face wears the Court? how looks it  
On our new dignities? Envy (like the Sun)  
Darts her beams hottest on the rising banks:  
Ursini the grand favourite, is at Court,  
And has his PRINCE's bosom?  Pier. 
That's his sanctuary,  
His safety lies there, yet (though I profess  
No augury) I foresee, and read  
His fall, all these vast glories which he boasts,  
Are built upon the ruins of Alberto,  
His tombstone is the basis of that building,  
Which we admire, but think not safe.  Val. 
There was a noble house soon lost.  Pier. 
Sooner (I believe) than 't will be forgotten;  
But what was that Frederico, Albert's son?  Val. 
One that with his father's virtues  
Inherited his unhappy fate, young he was,  
And valiant; received and known so.  Pier. 
Had he been less famed, he had not yet  
Been numbered with the dead; (you are my friend,  
My Lord,) I speak my thoughts, and freely;—  
Ursini endures no rival.  Val. 
I've maintained  
Fair correspondency with him at distance,  
But like not his embracements.  Pier. 
't is dangerous to be near him;  
There's such an Antipathy, twixt him, and virtue,  
He wears its ruin in his looks.  Val. 
'Tis strange,  
A Prince so wise and virtuous should not descry  
His falsehood through his visor; or at least  
Lend ear to the loud cries of wronged Innocents.  Pier. 
He hath no use of either ear, or eye,  
But what his loved Ursini lends him; he  
Only rules, and limits his affections;  
Suffers him not to cast a frown or smile,  
But where he pleases; his next endearment, is  
His care o'th' Princess, our Sicilian captive:  
Whom sorrow for her father's death, (slain in  
The war, by him that was designed her lover;  
Our famed Prince Ferrando,) has brought  
Into a desperate melancholy; what reward  
He expects, I cannot tell, unless it be  
The Crown: you have heard of her strange distemper?  Val. 
And wonder at the sudden change:  
I've seen her, maugre all those sudden fears,  
Her tender age, and womanhood could urge;  
Stand in the head of troops, that we e'en feared  
They had engaged some Goddess in their quarrel;  
Bear up against the enemy, when her men  
Lay scattered in the plains, like the ripe ears  
The wealthy harvest yields into the Grange.  Pier. 
I know not how, but sure sh'as made the King  
Wild; he has such divers fits, as he had learned  
To be mysterious in's passion; I have seen him weep,  
Like a fond mother o'er her tender babe,  
Whom too rude fate has ravished unripe from her:  
Then rave, and curse, talk as he wanted reason  
To guide his speech's Organ: or soft sleep  
To recall his straggling senses:  
Mutter distracted thoughts in broken words,  
Until he lights upon her name, and then  
He bows at the recital; blesses himself  
In th' often repetition of Calantha.  Val. 
There's somewhat in't, her passion should lie hid  
So long, and now break out so violently.  
She rather seemed too thrifty, than too prodigal  
Of tears, when she left Sicily; and taught us  
To call't our chiefest happiness, we should have  
A Queen, that reigned at home, that bore more sway  
Over the people of her breast, than country.  Pier. 
Alas poor maid! why now she's a true captive  
To passion, and to Naples: had she been still  
Queen over her great self, none could have said  
She'd had been unhappy; now, and not till now  
She's truly miserable.  Val. 
'Tis holiness to pity her.  Pier. 
Our tears are better spent upon her sorrows,  
Than our own sins, she talks so prettily,  
Clothes grief in such a sad, and pious garb,  
So void of any rudeness, that we see  
Composedness in distraction, reason in madness;  
She never walks but when she's led along,  
And that so faintly, as she had not spirits  
Enough to actuate her tender limbs:  
Want of meat and sleep have made her seem  
A living corpse; to see her weep, you'd fear  
That every drop were her own funeral tear.  Exeunt.  

ACT. I. SCEN. III.  Enter Fungoso, Zisco running after him. Zis. 
— Hell, and furies!—  kicks him, & exit. Fun. 
Oh! oh! oh!  
A moor! a devil! a mere devil! his very looks spoke him so, but for his clubfoot, his damnable clubfoot, (Ass that I was not to see it, I'm sure I feel it now,) 'tis an infallible sign: This damned Devil did I bring to Court, and preferred him; but I'm served well enough, he that does the Devil a good turn shall be sure to be thus rewarded. If I should chance to die a sinner (as 'tis ten to one but I shall,) he'll know me again, for I shall carry his marks to my grave: because my Lord Ursini was pleased to exchange some few words with him in private, he grew so insolent, that I going to strike him (in passion, in choler I confess) he falls a kicking me inth' open Court.  Enter Cassio, and Gratti, whispering 'Twas my Lord Ursini's command. Fun. 
And looks, as if he would, have spit fire; but had I not known him to be a devil indeed, I'd spit fire with him.  Grut. 
How? so hot signior?  Cass. 
Men in anger may do anything.  Fung. 
Anything? with your leave Sir,  
And you're a fool, and an ass.—  Gives him a box on th'ear. Cass. 
doye find it so by my ears?—  
And I'll try what you are—  Grut. 
Draw i'th' Court? I must see the peace kept.  Fung. 
Gentlemen, you know I'm passionate, choleric, somewhat choleric.  Cass. 
And I intend to physic you for't; here's that will allay your heat.  Grut. 
'Tis down already.  Cassio puts up his sword. Fun. 
I won't be jeered.  Grut. 
we intend no abuse, signior, we only come to gratulate your good fortune, you are turned favourite of late.  Fung. 
It has pleased his Majesty to take some small notice of me.  Grut. 
Yes, and the Ladies speak high, & gloriously of you.  Fung. 
Of me?  Cass. 
You could not but observe it as you walked the streets: you are the only object they gaze at.  Fung. 
In troth I did not think—  Grut. 
Come you are modest now.  Cass. 
Who was't you blessed tother day with a favour?  Fung. 
I give a favour?  Grut. 
Why man? you meant it should be seen.  Fung. 
I slipped a point indeed in a countess's chamber.  Grut. 
Slipped a point?  Fun. 
Dropped it, dropped it, but t' was not worth the taking up.  Cass. 
And yet I've heard her boast it as a special gift from your own hands.  Fung. 
Indeed I flung it somewhat scornfully, because she was very importunate; troth I was angry, she would have none but that.  Grut. 
Were't not for this filthy fretting humour of yours, I could tell you—  Fung. 
What good Grutti?  Grut. 
Of a Lady.  Fung. 
By my best hopes in love with me, is she not?  Grut. 
I'm not so happy as to be acquainted with her intents, but I have heard her in my Lord Ursini's presence commend you highly.  Fung. 
Prithee who is't?  Grut. 
The Lady Charintha.  Fung. 
The Lady Charintha; what should I do with her? she's honest, the only precise madam of the Court.  Grut. 
They that drop the most beads, may commit the most sins, but were't not so, you have a kind of tempting presence, and besides—  Whisper. Fung. 
Oh! I understand you, she's his Lordship's reversion.  Grut. 
St, not a word.  Fung. 
I'll to her presently.  Exit. Grut. 
This is my Lord Ursini's plot, to slander that lady's chastity.  Cass. 
And he has charged me, to whisper't about Court, that he has enjoyed her.  Grut. 
I wonder much, since he seeks her himself in marriage, why he should thus traduce her.  Cass. 
On my conscience she's virtuous.  Grut. 
His plots are dark, and misty, but come, prithee let's leave this talk, we have state knowledge enough already to make us melancholy: I'll show thee a scene of mirth—  Cass. 
Where lies it?  Grut. 
This Physician that was sent for hither from the University to our melancholy Princess, they say, endures no music, and I've prepared a whole consort of these gut-scrapers this morning to salute him; no doubt but he'll be be very bountiful.  Cass. 
If the varlets can make good use of his charity.  Grut. 
I wonder much the Court endures him here; he's an odd humoursome fellow.  Cass. 
His art privileges him.  Exeunt.  

ACT: I. SCEN. IV.  Ursini. a Servant. Ser. 
My Lord.—  Urs. 
Conduct that moor hither, and see we have all privacy that may be.  Ser. 
He shall wear my life upon his sword that enters without my leave.  Exit Ser. Enter Zisco. Urs. 
See, he comes: here's one that's fit to kill a King,  
A thing, whose soul is nothing but a spot  
Transmitted from foul parricides, whose thoughts  aside. 
Wear a more deep and horrid black, than that  
Which spreads upon his body—  
My Zisco welcome.  Zisc. 
This day my Lord—  Urs. 
No more, I know what thou wouldst say: I promised  
To endear thee to Ferrando's love, and knowledge,  
Are you according to my instructions ready  
To meet all his demands?  Zis. 
Perfect.  Urs. 
With a forged Commendamus from his holiness?  Zisc. 
— Of my stout service done against the Turks  
In the Lepanto battle, where I turned Christian,  
And was baptised in mine own blood.  Urs. 
'Tis well, but how stood thou resolved for our design?  Zisc. 
Unmoved as destiny.  
— Could you have told me of it in that minute  
I should have acted it, I'd owe you for  
The glory of a sin, I might have boasted of;  
What we intend, ne'er rises to that height  
As what we act, because 'tmay prove abortive,  
And perish in the thought, and for such crimes,  
I only have repentance.  Urs. 
But he's a Prince—  Zisc. 
Why there's the honour on't,  
Killing the head, I kill the body too,  
And at one blow lay a whole Kingdom gasping.  Urs. 
— One upon whom attends a guard of men,  
And Angels, on whose brow divinity  
Sits charactered, a Majesty that darts  
Forked arrows into the guilty soul, and strikes  
A palsied fear through every limb and joint  
Of the murderer.  Zisc: 
Fancy, fancy this,  
I'm proof against it; I'll take him in's cups  
When he's drunk, betray him to a rape,  
Or fouler sin, then kill him in the act.  Urs. 
Whom?  Zis. 
The King.  Urs. 
Traitor.  Zis. 
'Tis as soon done as thought of.  Urs. 
He never loved thee Zisco, nor was known  
By special favours to deserve thee to him;  
But he has made me great, worn me in's soul;  
His father took me up, when I was nothing,  
Bequeathed me to him, as a care hereditary,  
Belonging to the Crown, placed me so near him,  
I've grown, and spread like a tall mountain Cedar.  Zisc: 
And dare encounter lightning, stand a thunderbolt,  
Or enraged winds; contend with that high influence  
By which you flourish, yet ne'er fear a blasting:  
His favour is a tyranny; it is  
The pride of Princes, to be thought Gods here  
On earth, daring to mock omnipotence,  
To create them favourites, set them aloft  
In their own sphere, till remote Kingdoms gaze  
At their prodigious height, then in an instant  
Shoot them from thence, like falling meteors:  
Had he not loved you first, you could not be  
The object of his hate, you were too poor,  
And safe, when 'twas, to have him glory in  
Your ruins: innocence below enjoys  
Security, and quiet sleeps, murder's not heard of,  
Treachery is a stranger there, they enjoy  
Their friends, and loves, without ravishment,  
They are all equal, every one's a Prince,  
And rules himself, they speak not with their eyes,  
Or brows, but with the tongue, & that too dwells i'th' heart:  
Were it but thus at Court,  Alberto, 
your famed marquess had not fallen.—  Urs, 
Alberto: ha.  Zis: 
Why start you Sir?  Urs. 
'Tis he: Frederico.  Aside. 
Oh that man! he was unhappy in his PRINCE's love.  Zis: 
Your honours are no more your own than his:  
'Twas the same favour that conferred them both,  
And the same frown may take 'em both away:  
He lets you only grow till you are envied,  
And then you'll fall unpitied.  Urs. 
I have learned cruelty from him:  
Zisco, thou shalt applaud the mysteries,  
The rare contrivances of my revenge;  
My fate lies in his breast, but this, this arm  
Shall ravished thence.  Zisc. 
Now your rage becomes you:  
When Princes put off their humanity,  
Murders, a holy sin, you may be good,  
And fall like him, whose aged head lies low,  
Low in the dust.  Urs. 
Again? this confirms it.  Aside. Zis. 
The groans of whose sunk house, are heard  
To affright strangers; whilst Naples yet  
Stained with the purple tide, his soul swam forth in,  
does blush at its own guilt: his son Frederico  
(You know) was lost at Sicily in a crowd.  Urs. 
'Tis so reported, yet I believe—  Zisc. 
My Lord.  Urs. 
That he was slain at Ferrando's command.  Zis 
Perhaps and by a slave.  
Felicia too, unhappy maid—  Urs. 
Your sister, (aside,)— I there,  
Now thou strik'st home.  Zis. 
First won to his embraces  
By volleys of false oaths, her virgin honour  
Rifled, her chaste womb swollen with the impostume  
Of his salt lust, then torn with spite from's bosom,  
Ravished, murdered, and by whom? (I could hate myself,  
For taking birth amongst such,) cursed Moors:  
Were she your enemy, her cause, and sex  
Would challenge pity; but you loved her dearly,  
The Mistress you adored; who then can think  
But that your soul is black, and stained as his,  
That are thus tame?  Urs. 
Zisco, thoust raised a flame within this breast,  
Nought but his blood can quench:— thanks to my brain;—  
It shall be so;— The fatal raven croaks;  
'Tis ominous, if he outlive this night  
We are no more:— Come we'll go plot within.  Exeunt.  

ACT: I. SCEN. V  Grutti. Cassio. (With musicians.) Grut. 
Here's his, study,  Cass. 
Is he there?  Looking from the Stage through the hangings Grut. 
Yet do but observe his posture:  
How he sits like a reverend Ape painted upon a Galley-pot, with an Urinal in's hand.  Cass. 
Faith Signior, in my judgement you've wronged your simile.  Grutr 
He's casting the Princess's water.  Cass. 
Not upon his beard I hope.  Grut. 
Reading in't—  Cass. 
The colour of's coppernose.  Grut. 
All the plots of Sicily; I warrant the poor Lady has not a thought escapes him.  Cass. 
The Sex has been always accounted open, yet I ne'er knew a State betrayed that way; some Ladies would be in a pitiful case, if their secrets could be read in their Gentlewoman's—  Enter musicians. Grut. 
Foh, they're mere sives.  
— Come, come, these are his Lordship's Lodgings,  
He came home late yesternight, and I believe  
Is scarce stirring yet.— Your last new tune,  Soft music Cass. 
This music sure will make him dance antic.  Grut. 
Not yet? pox on him, he's asleep in's study: ha' you no loud music? perhaps his Lordship likes that better.  Bent. 
So, ho, oh, ho, ho, murder, murder, murder,  Loud music. Enter Bentivoglio. Cass. 
Enter Hieronymo from his naked bed.  Gr. 
Hieronymo was drunk then last night, he lay in's clothes.  Bent. 
rogue's base rogues, scabby rogues, pocky Grutty and Cassio stepped behind the hangings .rogues, out, our rascals, abuse his Majesty's Physician, offer to play under my nose, foh, how the rogue's stink: farts, poisoned farts, foh, these meager-chapped rascals eat so much brimstone, and salt butter, that they outstink hell: had these farts been let in Wales, they would have bred the plague there,— let me see— who should this be. that should abuse me thus, let me but find him out, and be he the best i'th' Court, it shall go hard but I'll have a quaint poison for him, shall work a little otherwise with him than this has done with me.  Enter Grutti, and Cassio, as overhearing him. Cass. 
The best i'th' Court?  Grut. 
A quaint poison for him.  Cass. 
does your retiredness lead you to treason? let's apprehend him:  Grut. 
For a Traitor.  Bent. 
Nay good Gentlemen, what shall I do? I'm undone.  Cass. 
A quaint poison!— so it was.  Grut. 
And for the best i'th' Court.  Bent. 
In troth, signiors, I meant it not.  Cass. 
'Twas too much you said it, Sir.  Bent. 
Do but conceal me.—  Cass. 
Then you'll confess, and bring us in as parties.  Bent. 
May I be hanged if I do; besides, whatever secret disease you have about you, I'll cure you gratis.  Grut. 
And think no more of poisoning them, that brought the musicians to your window; 'twas our plot Sir.  Bent. 
I forgive you, and pray Gentlemen use me for your Physician whenever the state of your bodies requires it. I'll learn secrecy of you.  Both. 
Agreed.  Exit Bent. Cass. 
Faith Grutty, this plot was well thought on; I could find in my heart to trust him.  Grut. 
You may; and hence forward I'll sin with less scruple.  Exeunt.  

ACT. I. SCEN. VI  Ursini. 
'Tis he— I am confirmed: Frederico, Albert's  
Son— I'll let him live concealed, he's a sure  
Instrument, and will serve me for all turns.  
— humph,— could he think his puling sisters,  
Or his Fathers, wrongs, sat so heavy on my heartstrings,  
That I could be moved to kill my Prince  
In their revenge? Indeed I loved her once,  
Till I enjoyed her, but she's lost, so is her memory;  
I've higher thoughts now; Charintha is my aim,  
Ferrando's niece; next heir to the Crown;  
Mine by his promise: can I but divorce  
Valenzo from her love, together with  
His life, I'm safe; 'tis that I am contriving:  
He is my rival both in a Mistress, and  
A PRINCE's favour.— Who waits within there? ho.  Cass. 
My Lord.  Enter Cass: Urs. 
Have you performed what I commanded you concerning the Lady?  Cass. 
Charintha? 'tis done Sir; Fungoso straight intends a visit there.  Urs. 
Leave me— (Exit Cass. )'Tis well, if this slander can but pull on murder upon him, or any of my servants, from Valenzo's hand, his head shall answer for't; I am his judge,  

(My power over the King makes me so:)  
And he shall find me cruel; then the fort is mine,  
In which his soldiers are in garrison;  
This night the French, and genoese intend  
To seize our empty fleet, that rides i'th' harbour;  
Those men I have endeared,—  
Mount, mount my soul, let no fear weigh thee down.  
He stakes his life that thus casts at a Crown.   Exit.   

ACT: II.  

SCEN. I.  Cass. Grutti. Ferrando. Ursini, leading in Calantha, Alphonso, Valenzo, Florinda, Violetta, Bentivogli, Piero, Sylvio, Fungoso. (While the Act is playing. Alph. 
This music's dull, strike higher, higher yet.  Bent. 
Oh! oh! oh! I can hold no longer, furies, devils, oh! oh!  Fer. 
What ails our Physician there?  Grut. 
'Tis an odd humour my Lord: any kind of music is less pleasing to him, than the voice of Mandrakes.  Fer. 
Cease there, your accents are distasteful.  Bent. 
I am abused, grossly abused, but I'll be revenged— Sir Your pardon.  Fer. 
Rise and proceed.  Bent. 
As I was telling you, you must in every thing humour her; in each word, each action, the nature of her disease requires it, which yields not unto cure, till it be wrought up toth' height.  Alph. 
Still such a sadness Ladies dwell on your brows? trust me, it misbecomes you: shall's tread a lusty measure? I'm light, and active.  Viol. 
But grief is heavy.  Alph. 
Thus we'll shake it off, and thus.  capers. Cal. 
Pray, why d'ye use me so? you bind my arms,  
As if I meant to fight, an they were loose,  
Indeed I won't, trust me, I'll kill nobody.  Bent. 
Pray unbind her.  Cal. 
I never killed the poorest worm, or fly,  
Though 'twere against my will, but that I wept for't,  
And begged a pardon too, for sure 'twas murder.  Bent. 
Marry was it.  Urs. 
Poor Lady, she's distracted!  Val. 
Death on my fury, this sight brands my best actions with a stain too deep for penitence to wash away.  Cal. 
This exceeds cruelty, they will not let me eat;  
Look I am pined almost to nothing.  Bent. 
A mere skeleton.  Cal. 
Had I but strength enough to struggle with heaven  
By prayer, I'd expiate their sins, though they  
Continued to be cruel.  Fung. 
Good Lady weep not, for if you continue  
These tears, my eyes will drop.  Cal. 
Yes, yes, they will drop out, oh happiness!  
Would mine would do so too; they smart extremely;  
Were't not a courtesy, I think ere this  
you'd pulled 'em forth.  Fung. 
Lady, I say weep not.  Bent. 
I say, ben't you a coxcomb.  Cal. 
Take away the fool, we are much indisposed  
To laugh today, good heaven, they flour my miseries:  
'Tis not well done, you may be sick yourselves,  
Before you die; want one to bid God comfort,  
When I am dead.  Bent. 
My Lord, a word— you are not privileged  
To do men wrong: you have done me one,  
Pray take notice—  Alph. 
Of what?  Cass. 
'Slife he won't challenge him.  Grut. 
The old Lord's afraid on't.  Cass. 
— How patient I am.  Alph. 
'Tis worth the noting, virtue is rare in you.  Cal. 
You Sir, d'ye hear? they say you'll put  Speaking to Ursini. 
Poison in my drink; do, do, plot on, and be  
A politic fool, I see into your thoughts,  
My eye-sight's clear, thank heaven, and yet i've lived  
A long long while.  Val. 
Did you hear that?  Pier. 
'Twas shrewd.  Bent. 
fourscore, and ten, you cannot be less madam.  Cal. 
Some ere this would have used spectacles, but I Must suffer all.  Grut. 
View all the monuments, and tombs in Naples,  
And if you find grief carved there in such variety of postures  
As these women stand in, sell me for a statue.  Cass. 
This spectacle hath made me one.  Fer. 
Good heavens, have you a curse beyond this?  
Throw it on me; my guilt deserves it, and  
Somewhat beyond your vengeance: afflict not Innocence,  
It will be called your crime, not mine, that she  
Is miserable.  Cal. 
Look ye, now I think on't, I've a fine device  
Come in my head, what think you of a play?  
we'll act a play, a tragedy, wilt not be well?  
we'll have a King in't, and he, (d'ye understand?) he shall be  
Killed, methinks you'd act it handsomely.  Bent. 
My Lord, you'd play the fool in't, an old doting fool rarely.  Cass. 
Now the cur bites.  Alph: 
If you'd lend me your gown, and cap, I should do't better; then, a noise of Musicians would be excellent.  Bent: 
Well, remember this.  Alph. 
Faith so I shall, as often as I am disposed to laugh.  Cal. 
No matter though, Ferrando, now I consider better on't, you shall not, you'd not do it well; do't toth' life, I'll not give a pin for't else: let me alone for one, I'd act that same king's daughter, I can command a tear or two: if need be, perhaps a sigh; if 'twere to rave, or grow stark mad, I should learn too: alas these plays are pretty morals of our lives; fine, harmless, innocent sports.  Val. 
Her madness grows strongly upon her.  Syl. 
But madam, pray what part shall I act?  Cal. 
Thou Sylvio?— thouart a pretty boy, but that thou weep'st so much; I fear thoust spoiled thy face; with a little paint 'twould serve turn: thou shalt act some Lady in disguise.  Syl. 
How truly do I do it?  aside. Cal. 
One that has been in love.  Syl. 
I should do that scurvily.  Cal. 
Why?  Syl. 
Because I can love none but you, and would be loath to dissemble, though but in jest.  Cal. 
Come, thou shalt not then; thou shalt be my page still.  Syl. 
Indeed madam I should die if I were otherwise: But pray, when will you be well? you have been sick a great while.  Cal. 
Yes, and shall be so till I am dead; say nothing Sylvio,  
I'll steal away from them, when they shall not know of't.  Syl. 
Not alone, I'll die with you, and be buried with you if you will give me leave.  Cal. 
Ferrando, you will see it done?  Fer. 
What madam?  Cal. 
See us both buried, laid by my Father, he was a good, good King: build us a tomb as lasting as our names.  Bent. 
A very rich one madam; I'll ensure you they're about it, with stately columns, curious antics, & glorious imagery.  Cal. 
There, let us both be cut in spotless marble,  
It never shall upbraid us, we were innocent as that;  
But innocence is no guard, it could not keep  
The tyrant out: my father's, let his be cut  
Just as he fell, make a sword pierce his heart,  
And let it bleed too, yet don't hurt the Statua,  
I would not have you wound it, when 'tis like  
My Father, like a King, lest he that does it,  
Learn thence to be a traitor, and in time  
Wound you so too, Ferrando.  Fer. 
Mercy good heavens!  Cal. 
Pray why d'ye weep? we shall all sleep quietly  
When we are dead, there is no noise of chains,  
We shall not dream of prisons, racks or whips:  
But every night shall see the Gods descend  
On our soft slumbers, and kiss away our miseries.  
Ladies, you'll see me shrouded decently,  
When I am dead, down in the mead you, where  
Grim Pluto stole his Proserpine, are still  
The flowers she scattered: go, bring 'em hither,  
And strew me o'er with 'em; she was a virgin chaste,  
And I have heard that flowers of their gathering,  
Will never die; quickly make haste, 'tis said  
we're very noisome after death, I would not  
Offend then, cause I can't ask forgiveness:  
Before I die I'll break my heart, and give  
A piece to every one to wear in's bosom,  
And you shall have it whole, Ferrando: pray  
Use it as you would her you loved, while I  
To quit these miseries will go pray, and die.  Bent. 
Now let me alone with her.  Exeunt Ursini, Ferrando, leading out Calantha Bentivogli, Sylvio. manent caeteri.  

ACT: II. SCEN II.  Alp. 
Die? and let her, what should we do with her here an she be mad? I hope Ladies you have more wit than to die o'th' sullens.  Val. 
Grief dares not be so rude, did you but check it.  Flor: 
'las Sir, our miseries have taught it insolence,  Pier. 
Rather your own indulgence, madam.  Val. 
Pleasure's the same in Naples as in Sicily.  Viol: 
So are our losses too.  Val. 
The eyes sad flux is tributary due  
Unto your dead Lords memories, I confess it,  
It carries virtue in't, but how? whilst it is moderate  Alp. 
Pish, let the dead care for themselves:  
Did you but see how ugly sorrow looks.—  Pier. 
And then how fruitless.  Flor. 
Yes, where 'tis false, but we  
Have grief as real as our misery.  Exeunt omnes praeter Alphon: & Fungoso. Alp. 
Fun, thy judgement Fun, what think'st thou of these Ladies?  Fun. 
In my judgement, (since your Lordship is pleased to make use of my judgement,) which indeed (my good Lord) is very small.  Alph. 
I perceive thou hast one good quality, thou wilt speak truth.  Fun. 
Truth (my Lord) is precious; but I say in that little judgement I have: (judgement, (since your Lordship was pleased to term it so) but that's all one,) in my mind they're mightily taken;—  Alph. 
With what?  Fun. 
A passion (my good Lord,) which the learned call grief.  Alph. 
Thy judgement against any man's in Naples.  Fung: 
My Lord, I praise not myself, yet I can prove by this that they are in love.  Alp: 
As how?  Fung. 
Grief always follows love; if grief follow love, love goes before, ergo, they're in love.  Alph: 
So, suppose now—  Fun: 
(My good Lord) I do suppose.  Alph. 
What?  Fung: 
Even what your Lordship pleases.  Alph. 
Suppose then, any of 'em should be in love with me, would you?—  Fun. 
Yes my Lord.  Alph. 
What?  Fun. 
Any thing.—  Alp: 
Bring her to my chamber.  Fun: 
— But pimp, it will contaminate.—  Alp. 
A fool's head, will it not? I say you shall bring her.  Fun: 
Nay then I will not bring her; slid, shall bring her? shall bring her?  Alp. 
Nay but Fun.— Pox on him, he'll discover me.  Exit Fun. Alph. running after him  

ACT: II. SCEN. III.  Ferrando. Ursini. Fer: 
Bid me forsake heaven, my virtue, honour,  
And all that's good—  (weeps.) Urs. 
Fie, fie.  Fer. 
You do not see me weep,  
Distil mine eyes into a dew,  
I will not shed one tear, not vent a sigh,  
No not in private.  Urs. 
So, this becomes you—  Fer: 
I have shaken off all  
Those weights that clogged my bosom— we can smile,  
Shows it not hand some?  Urs. 
Such a smile ne'er blessed  
The cheeks of Peace.  Fer: 
How art thou lost Ursini!  
Discredited to truth by this vile flattery!  
Thou shouldst have said, heaven smiled, when set with clouds  
Black as nights swarthy mantle, when the air  
Breaks out in hideous cracks, that cleave the Temple,  
And strike dead the devout Priest at the Altar:  
For this an easy faith would have believed,  
As having less of contradiction in't:  
My soul is rapt with furies, here they gnaw,  
Like knotted Adders wrapped about my heart.  
Oh! my sides swell as they would break, they want  
A hoop, lend me your arm,—  Urs: 
Circled in these.  
Embraces, you are safe: collect yourself  
(Dear Prince;) and let not passion triumph in  
The conquest of your reason; think of your honour,  
Your name, and spreading glories; how they die.  Fer. 
I'm black and ugly; all  
A whole stain already: Oh Calantha,  
Thou goest to heaven, to tell Ferrando killed thee;  
And those blessed troops of Saints will wreak thy murder,  
There's not one but suffers in't.  Urs. 
— The King!  
Help here— Oh! Bentivoglio, come,  Enter Bent. 
Come practice here, and raise yourself a trophy  
In his recovery.  Bent. 
Whence this sudden fit?— My Lord Ferrando:  Fer. 
Oh Calantha.  Bent. 
She lives,  
Calantha lives.  Fer: 
What breath is that, that mocks us  
With a false sound of our Calantha's life?  
She lives; yet let old time add to his age  
But one short pair of minutes, she shall be  
No more:  Bent. 
No more distracted: next hour shall render  
Calantha to your bosom fair, and well;  
As rich in all the ornaments of mind,  
As when she first blessed Naples with her presence.  Fer. 
Truth's but a name: 'tis false, by heaven 'tis false;  
Did not I leave her sunk upon her bed,  
Into a soft, but everlasting sleep?  Bent. 
So you supposed; and I have caused her women  
To wrap her in her shroud, then sit down by her,  
To weep, and pray, as if 'twere for the dead.  Fer. 
As if?— abuse me not, thy art  
Shall be no privilege; she's gone, she's gone.  Urs. 
Ben't so passionate; but hear him.  Fer. 
Ursini, I have done.  Bent. 
After a strict enquiry into the nature  
Of her disease, I find it by each symptom,  
A melancholy deep, not dangerous:  
The parents which produced it, grief and abstinence  
From meat, and sleep; which as it hath increased.  
Has brought her now to such an extreme dotage,  
That she does verily suppose herself,  
While living dead: In which false supposition  
I've caused her women to continue her,  
By shrouding her to her own desire,  
Strewing her o'er with flowers, then weeping o'er her  Fer: 
What help from this?  Bent: 
Much Sir, this will work her  
Into a strong opinion, that she's dead  
Indeed, to confirm which I have prepared  
Some two or three, tricked up in the same fashion  
With shrouds, and chaplets, who shall sit down by her,  
Walk, talk, eat, drink, sleep, in all which actions  
Calantha will straight imitate them: Now I have prepared  
A potion which they shall give her,  
To make her sleep, the only remedy  
Of her disease; this I lately practised in the French Court,  
Yet lost no credit by the experiment.  Urs. 
You may believe him Sir, he's one of the skilfullest Physicians our age has boasted of, Padua is proud of such an ornament.  Fer: 
Thus my Virginio.  
My best, my dearest Virginio: thou dost breathe  
A music to my soul, cures my distemper:  
Thou art an honest man, we'll found a College,  
With a large pension to maintain the Students  
In thy rare science; thou shalt govern there,  
And when thou diest, we'll build a monument  
Unto thy name, taller than Egypt's Pyramids.  Bent: 
These o'er your Court promises,  
I'll only study some revenge, for you old Lord,  aside. 
Then I'll return toth' University, & dream on 'em.  Exit Bent. Fer: 
For thee Ursini, we will only live  
To do thee honour, that shall be our glory;  
The world shall know thee great, and envy thee  
Thy share, both in our kingdom, and our soul.  Urs. 
Your goodness, my Lord, is as unlimited  
As heavens.  Fer. 
You're sad Ursini: has our Niece  
Given you no cause of joy, by her soft answer?  Urs. 
None,—  Fer. 
The obstacle? tell me; if t' be any in Court she affects, by my honour I'll remove him.  Urs. 
None but this, that she's too much wedded to Heaven, and her devotions.  Fer. 
If that be all, she's thine.  Urs. 
A bliss, I would for ever live t'enjoy.—  Enter Zisco. whispers Ursini. 
With me?—  Fer. 
What would that moor?  Urs. 
He has letters here from his holiness,  
In which I'm certified, that he lately turned Christian,  
And has well deserved i'th' wars,  
Against the Turk;— The King admits you to  
His hand.  Zis. 
I am in heaven too soon.  Fer. 
We'll view his holiness commendations,  
Then hear this moor, discourse the fight at large;  
My griefs begin to vanish; they're much lighter  
Than of late they were, I know not why,  
But 'tis a good presage.  Urs. 
Be near us.  Exeunt, Fer. Ursini. Zis. 
Thus far I'm safe, heaven is just, and smiles  
On my design, now all that's powerful  
To move my spirits, to incite revenge  
Appear, if not to sight, to memory;  
Alberto: father: and my dear, dear sister,  
Poor lost Felicia!— Ha! he groans, I hear him;  
She sighs poor maid, wrings her hands, cries alas,  
Look look I see 'em, there, there, sacred shades—  
Vanished, and I'm deluded; no they're angry  
At my delay:  
I'll haste,— for that revenge must needs be just  
Which punishes two sins, murder, and lust.  Exit.  

ACT. II. SCEN. IV.  Calantha discovered lying upon a bank of flowers, with a chaplet upon her head. enter several ways fix furies, in antic postures: at the sound of the Music they dance, which ended, enter Mercury conducting in a Chorus of Ghosts: the Furies run several ways: Mercury goes to Calantha touches her with his rod, whereupon she rises, and he speaks. Merc: 
Happy souls that hither come  
To enjoy Elysium;  
robbed of bodies though you be,  
You're richer by such poverty;  
For with them you've put off pain,  
Making of your loss, your gain:  
Now your souls may meet and kiss,  
Bathing in eternal bliss;  
Nor can you surfeit, each delight  
Whets, and quiets appetite;  
Yet the joys you feed upon  
ne'er increase, nor e'er are done;  
Freely you may taste, and spend 'em,  
Yet nor you, nor time can end 'em:  
Where without a fading ray.  
Ye enjoy eternal day,  
Trace these groves, whose every path  
Myriads of true lovers hath;  
Where disporting, you may prove  
A new, but happier, purer love:  
Such, whose flames, though th'ever shine  
Yet consume not, but refine.  Exit Mer:: Having thus finish, the Ghosts join with Calantha in some solemn measures, which ended, a banquet is served in, they sit down, and invite Calanthan, to the same, who willingly accompanies them, and as she prepares to drink, they put an Opiate cup in her hand; she drinks, and suddenly falls asleep; they between them carry her out. etc.  

ACT: II. SCEN. V  Valenzo, Piero, Charintha. Val. 
I am too tame Piero, hold me not,  
Lest in deferring of a punishment,  
I make the sin mine own; had all malice  
Dwelled in one tongue, all slander too been housed  
Under the same roof with it, and both busy  
To plot the ruin of my own fair name;  
I could have stood unmoved: but my Charintha!  
Heavens! ye ought t'inspire me with revenge,  
Such as you'd call a synod to contrive,  
That I may meet this hellborn ravisher  
Of my Charintha's spotless fame, with vengeance  
As mighty as his crime.  Pier. 
Her virtue is  
itself an antidote against all such poisons;  
His breath no more can stain that innocent whiteness,  
Which ever dwelled upon her soul, than he,  
That in a fond maliciousness would throw  
Dirt at the Sun, could sully the least ray;  
Her memory, when he, and's lying marble  
Consume to dust, and rottenness, shall dwell  
On earth like a perfume, after the sacrifice,  
Pleasing to God, and men.  Char: 
If I have used  
Any immodest braveries, appeared  
In wanton gaudiness, a hot temptation  
Toth' youthful flowings of the blood;  
If I have entertained one looser thought  
But such as Chastity's cold votaries,  
When they breathe out a soul into her bosom,  
Might safely nourish; if I've misemployed  
One hour, in which with strict endeavour, I  
Might have gained somewhat to my stock of virtue,  
(The only dower I'd meet your love withal,)  
May I be guilty of that sin, my honour,  
My virgin honour's blasted with, and die  
A loathed Apostate.  Val. 
Now you grieve, I suffer double;  
Forgive me Lady, I have wronged you, and  
Only I.  Char. 
Mock not my tears, they are holy.  Val 
ay, that to purchase fame, and idle breath,  
Could venture forth abroad into the world,  
And leave thee here a prey to ravenous wolves;  
Expose thee tender years of a weak virgin  
To labour 'gainst the furious tide of lust  
That has assaulted thee; that my low birth  
Should stand in need of such additions,  
To raise me to a height, might equal yours:  
That virtue and not blood ennobled us,  
This then had never happened.  Char. 
Greatness transmitted  
Has lesser of Divinity; your honours  
Are virtues purchase, and your own deservings.  
Valenzo thou return'st in glorious triumph,  
Rich, from the conquest of a noble foe,  
And yet not laden with the gaudy spoil  
So much, as with the valour of the enemy:  
As if thou'dstad'st envied them their virtue only,  
And soughtest to rob 'em of it; all for me:—  Val: 
I've waved a plume, dight me i'th' warlike garb,  
Managed a sword, or shook a dreaded spear,  
Looked terrible, been pitiless to those  
That begged a life, revelled in cities sacked,  
And rifled tents: too poor and trivial matters  
To point at such rich ends as thee, (my love.)  
Thy blood runs high, there's not one purple stream  
Cased in these a zure veins, but is derived  
From th' spring of Princely ancestry, and thouart  
The wealthy storehouse of their fortunes too.  Char. 
'Las! what are these, but what the owner makes them?  
Of themselves nothing, only as we use them,  
Are good or bad, a blessing or a curse:  Val. 
But then their virtues, by a thrifty providence,  
Are all summed up in thy blessed self, and make thee  
A happiness which if enjoyed must be  
Bestowed by gift, because above all purchase.  Char: 
No (my Valenzo,) virtue's ravished hence,  
Charintha's strumpeted, her name is ranked  
I'th' vulgar breath, 'mongst common prostitutes;  
Pardon, (my love) shall't never wed thy shame,  
Thy jealousy.  Val. 
Charintha, thou art cruel, and hast learned  
An art to wound toth' death, yet keep alive  
Whom thou hast killed, O be but speedy in  
Thy execution, and when I come below:  
And walk those fields, that hapless lovers trace,  
I will report thee mild, soft as the Turtle in her down.  Char. 
What means Valenzo?  Val. 
Perhaps report has injured me, and noised  
That I was jealous of Charintha's love;  
And you contrived this plot to make me hate you;  
Or, if you should repent, (as well you may,)  
Your favours so ill placed, upon a subject  
So poor and worthless; take 'em back again,  
Live happy in a better choice, Charintha.  (Pardon my love, shall't never wed thy shame.) Char. 
Far, far be such a thought!  Pier. 
Your both abused,  
Grossly abused: Ursini's politic plots  
May meet an eye, that can discern of objects  
Far subtler than they are; come, come,  
'Way with this passion, Love has something else  
To employ you in:  Val. 
thoust robbed me of a soul:—  Kiss. Char: 
Take in this kiss mine in exchange again.  Enter Fung: Serv. Ser. 
That's my Lady Sir,  Fun. 
There,— take it I say;  Ser. 
My office will scarce deserve it.  Exit Serv. Pier. 
Fungoso, as I wished; he is Ursini's agent, this will confirm my relation; let's step aside.  (Val Pier step behind the Arras.) Fun. 
Ha! What are these? Praesto, be gone; they are vanished: men of office these,— and must be rewarded.— madam—  Char. 
Come, to your business.  Fung. 
'Slife the lady's rampant: (aside. )soft and fair, two words to a bargain, now will I seem to neglect her, and she'll straight court me.  Char. 
Sure the man's mad.  Fung. 
Not with love, sweet Lady; I can hold discourse with your Ladyship, under the loss of my little wits.  Char: 
A blessed security; but your errand, your errand, Sir.  Fung: 
What d'ye take me for? a foot-post.  Char. 
Some such thing.  Fung: 
Go, you're a—  Char: 
What?  Fung: 
A merrily disposed Lady: but faith, what do you think sweet, I have a grant of his Lordship's reversion.  Char. 
Of cast suits.  Fung. 
La you now, you would make me angry; pretty piece of ingenuity; you understand me, was his Lordship wholesome?  Char: 
Stop his mouth, he breathes infection.  Enter Val: Pier: & draw. Val: 
Traitor.  Pier: 
Devil.  kills him. Fun: 
Oh! oh! I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead.  dies. Val. 
Dares he abuse me to my face?— Piero  
Thou hast prevented me; 'tshall ne'er be said,  
That thou were't forwarder to vindicate  
Charintha's fame than I, than her Valenzo.  
Nor shall the cause, but the revenge be mine;  
I'll show my rage can flow as well as thine.  Exeunt. (Val. with his sword drawn.  

ACT. II. SCEN VI  Ursini. Sylvio. Urs. 
thoust told a pretty story;— weep no more,  
I see the Cupids angry in thine eyes,  
That with thy tears, thoust quenched their burning arrows;  
Spare 'em until thouart old, and spend 'em then  
On thy whole stock of sins: thou play'st the tyrant;  
And robbest thyself of all that beauteous treasure.  
Nature instructed thee withal.  Syl: 
Ah me!  
Would I had never had it, that alone  
Has only caused my grief:  Urs: 
Thou art passionate.  Syl. 
The virgins loved my innocence, and it  
When I was yet a child.  Urs. 
So thou told'st me boy:  
But after thou arriv'd'st in Sicily,  
How fared it with thee?  Syl: 
Judge Sir, by these tears.  Urs. 
Did thy friend leave thee?  Syl. 
Yes, and the world too; I know he would not have been so unkind else.  Urs. 
Then went'st thou to the Princess.  Syl. 
Begged relief from her.  Urs. 
Why didst not return?  Syl: 
'Twas told me there, my Parents straightway died.  Urs. 
Thou shalt have new ones, royal ones my boy;  
A Princely pair, that pride them in their youth,  
And innocent sweetness; whose Majesties shall shed  
As vigorous rays on thee, as on the issue,  
Th'ensuing nuptial promises to spring  
From their own loins.  Syl: 
Those are favours Sir,  
That become them to give, not me to take.  Urs. 
Thou hast deserved them boy, Calantha speaks thee  
A miracle of love and piety;  
Is passionate in thy praise, all to win  
Affection from the Prince to thee, dry up  
Those tears; which till this time did never flow  
Offensive unto any:  
This day is consecrate to mirth and Hymen,  
'Tis sin to wear a frown, or folded brow,  
For every smile, thou lendest them now, they'll pay  
A thousand back again:  Exit. Ursini. Syl. 
A large requital!—  
A smile from my Ferrando? oh 'twas heaven,  
Felicia, whilst thou wishest it! now thou hast  
Obtained it, 'tis a hell; the antidote  
Is now become my poison: Tyrant love  
That sport'st thee at the pains, thy Martyrs feel  
And mak'st thy salve applied, wound when 'tshould heal.  Exit.   

ACT. III.  

SCEN. I.  Ferrando, Ursini, Calantha, Alph: Violetta, Florinda, Sylvio. Fer. 
Come my Calantha, to consummate that joy,  
By mutual vows before the Altar made,  
Which thy return to life, to health, and reason,  
Hath begun in me; those minutes which bring  
Us any good, are swift and fleeting, and  
Once passed not to be recalled, who knows  
Whether heaven will still be bountiful;  Cal. 
Or smile upon this hasty Union:  Fer. 
Yes royal maid, they have prepared thee for it.  
By the addition of new warmth and strength:  Cal. 
For more sorrows; pray let's back, this day  
(There's something whispers to me) will prove fatal.  Fer. 
Ursini, see she weeps!  
I've took thee from a sea of tears, (my Venus)  
And thou art dropping wet yet.  Syl. 
'Tis ominous, this might have been my marriage day;  
But heaven forgive, and prosper him.  aside Fer. 
Create a Sunshine,  
With thine own smiles thou mayst, and dry thee in't:  
Let the dull Negro dive to fetch thee Jewels,  
These scattered seeds of pearl, are all too rich  
And pompous for ornament; the least of these  
Thy fond neglect has dropped, would purchase heaven.  Cal. 
Blame not my pious thrift, I shed them for't;  
Thither my journey tends, I shortly shall arrive there.  Fer. 
Thou yield'st too much to passion!  Cal. 
These rites,  
(If we may credit what our dreams foretell,)  
Will turn to funeral obsequies, for such  
This morning, (when your careful art had bound  
My senses up.) fancy presented 'em.  
Methought I saw,  
Aurora from the East come weeping up,  
Wrapped in night's sables, and the following day  
Paced slowly on, in griefs sad livery;  
The pensive winds sighed forth a solemn dirge,  
And strove to blow our marriage tapers out;  
When you Ursini joined in the solemnity,  
I saw you look, like Sicily's pale ghost,  
Broke from the hollow Caverns of the earth;  
This hand Ferrando, at each gentle touch  
Mouldered to ashes; on your lip there sat  
A frost, which when I tasted straight conveyed  
An icy chillness through every joint;  
The stammering Priest methought mistook the rites,  
And stead of those are used at nuptials,  
Sung a short requiem to our souls, committed  
All that was left of us, to the earth, our last  
Cold bed.  Alph. 
I warrant you Ladies, this was because she lay alone; you should advise her better.  Urs. 
'Twas the intemperance of your disease  
Suggested these Chimaeras.  Fer. 
And with it they are fled.  Cal. 
No, no Ferrando;  
I've sinned against my father's ghost; ere yet  
His royal corpse had slept two silent Moons  
I'th' peaceful earth, or ere I had paid down  
Just tribute of my tears, I've changed my sables  
For a gay nuptial garment, whose light outside  
Denotes the looseness of a lighter mind,  
To which grief should have been perpetual guest.  Fer. 
Urge it no more, thy misery's Virgin Queen  
Are powerful with me, and have taught this breast  
A sad repentance.  Cal. 
Canst thou Ferrando then repent?  Fer. 
I can, that I have wronged thy innocence, Killed thy father.  Cal. 
O take me to thy soul, we'll mingle sighs,  
And tears, which still shall flow together from us,  
As if the motion were but one; and those  
So frequent, that the stones, which cloth his dust,  
Shall soften into turf, from whence shall spring  
A bed of flowers, creeping about the grave,  
As if they'd strew themselves upon him, then  
Whither, that men might think we wept for them.  Fer. 
Yet pardon Love, whenever I remember  
He was a Prince, a Prince of equal power,  
And strength with him he wronged; that he once stood  
A bar betwixt our loves, or rather mocked  
Our hopes of mutual enjoyment; that  
For his own peevish humour, he would ruin  
The edifice, that we had built to honour,  
I glory in the act.  Cal. 
Take pity on me courteous death!  
My thoughts are grown more terrible than thou!  
I am monstrous, a prodigy in nature, one with  
Him, that was my father's murderer.  Fer. 
Royal my Queen!  
'Tis the excess of piety,  
The error of your duty, that thus wrongs  
The justice of my cause.  Cal. 
Yet you might have spared  
His life, and made it your just praise, that you  
Could conquer, and not kill:  Fer. 
He was so eager in the pursuit of the foe,  
When first he routed us, that willingly  
He ran upon my sword, that stood t'oppose  
His haste, and met a death instead of victory.  Urs. 
Nay rather we may say, that he met both  
Who triumphs over life, and all the misery's  
That too officiously attend upon it;  
Crown his pale statua, with victorious wreaths,  
And call his unkind fate, his happiness!  
His fall was honourable, Kings like other men  
Travel to death, they go i'th' common road,  
Are in their end as sensible of pain  
As the base peasants, whom they by and by  
I'th' grave are equal with; their only privilege  
Is in their executioner, who would not rather  
Fall under a king's hand, than yield his life  
Up to a weak disease, a Fever, Gout,  
Or grating Stone, which had he missed this stroke,  
Might straight have seized him; and have robbed him of  
The glory of his end?  Cal. 
I cannot yield  
So far to reason, but I still must look  
Upon you, as an enemy to Sicily;  
As him that killed my father, and so hate you;  
Yet I must love you too: when first we met  
Together in your Tent, both armed (you know)  
I would have fought, nay, and have killed you too,  
(Could skill or strength have done it, some I had  
Of both;) yet I meant not to survive you,  
Nor should I need t'have made another wound  
To let mine own life out, I'd died with yours.  Fer: 
Ursini thou must quit some interest in my love, Calantha—  Urs: 
Deserves it all;  
'Twere a sin no less than sacrilege,  
To rob her o'th' least part of your affections.  Fer: 
My faculties are grown  
All to one power, called love, and you engross it  
Whole to yourself; yet have it still entire  
To my Calantha, 'tis a divers flame,  
That burns me, yet but one, each takes its difference,  
And being from the object, be you still  
My friend, & thou my love, whom when we have once joined  
Unto our amorous folds, thus we will move  
And of our arms make a new sphere for love.  Exeunt, with a long flourish.  

ACT: III. SCEN II.  Grutti. Cassio. Grut. 
This way? toth' Temple sayst?  Cass: 
Married by this:  
The Prince is fierce and eager in's desires,  
Impatient of delay.  Grut. 
But seemed not she unwilling?  Cass. 
There appeared somewhat more in her, than in a virgin niceness,  
They are here:—  They return from the Temple) Flourish. Urs. 
The Priest has done his office, all delights  
The married have a privilege in, are yours:  
Be bold in the enjoyment, whate'er while  
Was termed a looseness in desire, is now  
A virtuous thought: those flames which cloth your Souls  
Are chaste and holy, dalliance is your devotion.  Fer. 
Yet you my Royal fair, can wear me at  
A careful distance, tremble at each touch  
Of hand or lip, as if you feared a rape:  
— Display this beauteous treasure, lovely sweet  
And let these flowers which dwell upon thy cheek,  
Like those proud Maja wears, i'th' smiling ides  
Blaze wild and open— see! they are fresh and lively,  
Their odour flies to heaven in sacrifice!  kissing her. 
Jove I'm thy rival;— and will share thy incense:  
Sweet as the purple smoke arising from  
The Phoenix funeral pile, or Southern breath  
Perfumed with all Arabia's spiceries.  Flo: 
Good my Lord! you will too much endear us to you with your courtesies.  Viol: 
And being strangers we are apt to be traduced:  
Our good names are precious, they are all we have left  
Unconquered.  Urs. 
Hymen applauds this early piety:  
The doves that drive the chariot of love's Queen.  
Are swift in motion, and those happy troops,  
Which wait upon her triumphs, make't their strife  
Which shall outrun the other, those that lag  
Cupid will whip with roses to the Altar.  Gal: 
Henceforth (my Lord) I must attend your will,  
Let me but drop a tear or two upon  
My father's dust, and with his memory  
I'll bid farewell to grief.  Urs. 
This vault contains it.  Fer: 
Let us pay our last duties.  Urs. 
The Choir attends without.  A Tomb discovered: etc. Song within. Chorus 

Noblest bodies are but guilded clay;  
put away  
But the precious shining rind;   

1.  
The inmost rottenness remains behind.  
Kings, on earth though gods they be,  
Yet in death are vile as we;  
He, a thousands King before,  
Now is vassal unto more.   

2.  
Vermin now insulting lie,  
And dig for Diamonds in each eye;  
Whilst the sceptre bearing hand  
Cannot their inroads withstand.   

3.  
Here doth one in odours wade  
By the regal unction made,  
While another dares to gnaw  
On that tongue, his people's law.   Chorus 
fools! ah fools are we, who so contrive,  
And do strive,  
In each gaudy ornament,  
Who shall his corpse in the best dish present.  Fer: 
'Tis well; enough is wept for Sicily; cheer up,  
We have other vows to pay, and as religious ones  
As these: we made them at the Altar; and  
If we perform them not, shall forfeit all  
Our after joys:— remove those objects there;  
We have no use of fables now; they breed  
Melancholy thoughts; we will be loud,  
And big in mirth, as full of pride as noise,  
Till we draw envy on our revels; which  
Nor fate, nor the dull stoic shall control,  
Whose sullen faith is the disease of's soul.  Exeunt, with a flourish.  

ACT: III. SCEN. III.  Bentivoglio. Bent: 
Revenge! were't thou more ugly than ere Painter  
Limbed witch or fury, I could kiss thee now,  
For thy so opportunely prompting me;  
These brace of Courtiers here, my trim complotters,  
Have tried my skill upon their bodies; and now  
I'm dearer to them, than their confessor,  
Both these have sworn to further my design,  
I have against this Lord, this dotard; who  
Hath heat his blood so with carousing healths,  
That he's grown wild and furious; believes  
His strength more able in these love-sinks,  
Than when he was i'th' pride, and prime of youth;  
Him are these two according to instructions  
Leading into the snares, that I've spread for him;  
Into which, if they, and blind fortune conduct him,  
I'll use him less gently, than I would a noise  Ent. Cass. Grut. Alph. 
Of gouty-cheeked trumpeters:— They're here.  
I'll be with you straight.—  Exit Bent. Alph 
Hymen is now predominant; the Stars  
Will have it so; I must and will be married.  Grut. 
Married?  Alph: 
Yes, yes, you shall have favours, favours, Gentlemen: bring me but to the sight of a woman, I'll clap up a match with her, and to bed straight; and if I don't outdo Hercules at his thirteenth labour, cut of my dainty dowsets, and feed dogs with 'em.  Cass. 
He deflowered fifty virgins in one night, I hope you won't marry so many.  Alph. 
Yes, and thou wilt get so many i'th' Kingdom, fifty? what's fifty? I'll have a monopoly of 'em, get 'em all with child with males, and they shall be borne with beards on.  Cass. 
There might have been some likelihood of this once, but now you are old.  Alp. 
Old? ha! ha! he! Grutti, Grutti, dost hear him? ha! ha! he! prithee how old? how old dost think? have I not a warm moist palm? does not my pulse beat strong, and healthy?  Grut. 
The flowings of your blood, that downy chin, and these full veins, speak you— some twenty, Sir.  Alp: 
And of complexion sanguine, I know it by my dreams.  Grut. 
The rosebuds now are blooming on your cheeks,  
And ope themselves into a crimson blush;  
This hair curls up like wire, and and speaks you lusty,  
Your strength is bold, and daring.  Alp. 
Believe it, I'm a wanton.  Cass. 
Come let's to a wench then.  Grut. 
Hang marrying, 'tis a slavery!  Cass. 
A mere purgatory!  Grut. 
An hell to be bound to one, and she prove false, ugly, or loud, when we may enjoy our liberties, to take or leave 'em, as our stomach serves us; have the choice beauties run into our arms, and every night a fresh one.  Alph. 
Hey! to a Wench; to a Wench! capers !now an I were King it should be treason for any subject to marry.  Cass. 
Allow 'em but Wenches, and 'twill be well enough.  Alph. 
Or to lie with a Woman.  Cass. 
How would you do for subjects then?  Alph. 
Perhaps an I had a mind to't, I'd get all my subjects myself, ha! what sayst thou to't, Grutti?  Grut. 
I say 'tis fit, you have a mind.  Enter Bentiv. Alph. 
Bentivoglio! we are friends, come thou shalt along with us, to a wench, old trangdido, to a wench, and thou shalt so bumfiddle her.  Bent. 
Nay, good my Lord, touch no more upon that string; but d''ee hear? I came to carry you to one.  Alph. 
Art right? art right? old boy! these Physicians are notable jerkers, come, where's their rendezvous?  Bent. 
In my Lodgings.  Alph. 
Ha? how many?— how many?— what's that there?  Bent. 
A draught to provoke.  Cass. 
— Sleep.  (aside) Alph. 
Nay good Bentivoglio give it me, a whole one, a whole one!  Bent. 
Be moderate; you'll take the next beggar you meet else; & then the Lady's expectation yonder will be frustrate.  Alph. 
Ha! ha! he! Super naculum! my old bully lively, my authentic Don, soul of pleasure; line of life; let's too't; such a violent fit o'th' sudden! a dozen Calentures are an ague to't; twenty Juleps will not cool one wish.  Bent. 
Let's have him to bed quickly, and heal him warm; Bonum erit si sudaverit,  Grut. 
Foh! his breath stinks oath University.  Bent. 
Signior 'tis not perfumed:— now will I go fetch these Ladies to him; & if he have courage enough but to speak to 'em; I'll forfeit my art, and turn tooth-drawer.  Exeunt.  

ACT. III. SCEN. IV.  A noise within of clashing of Swords, some cry, treason! treason. Enter Ursini, and Valenzo fighting. Urs. 
My Lord!—  Val. 
Villain!  Urs. 
The injury! I am not any way conscious.—  Val. 
Traitor thou liest;  
Hell, and thyself the greater mischief, has  
Conspired to ruin goodness.—  Enter the Guard with Piero, they seize on Valenzo. & exeunt.  

ACT. III. SCEN. V  Violetta, Florinda. Viol. 
madam! you've viewed these gardens;— has not art  
Sweetly conspired with nature, to make up  
A pleasure of variety?  Flor. 
It takes exceedingly.—  (Looking upon and sorting her flowers.) Viol. 
What does?  Flor. 
Pretty indeed,  
To have these flowers read moral lectures to us.  Viol. 
Yet madam, you can find in your heart to tread  
Them underfoot, scorning as much the beauty,  
As the rare sense they carry.  Flor. 
Yes I can,  
Yet straight I turn, and pluck 'em;— bind 'em up,  
In one fair volume, thus—  Viol. 
And what read you, pray?  Flor. 
The emblems of true virtues in each leaf,  
Imprinted there, at nature's proper charges.  Viol. 
What think you of this Lily?  Flor: 
It figures innocence.  Viol: 
Wear it in your bosom.  Flor. 
Innocence indeed  
Should be the breasts fair individual mate.  Viol. 
It will become you well.  Flor: 
So will this crown Imperial your head,  
Pray stick it there.  Viol: 
I should be the envy of the Court then,  
'tis a pretty flower, what think you if I carry it to the Princess?  Flor: 
Fit, very apt and fit, lady,— as fit  
A gift, as this were for a Lord, an honeysuckle,  
The amorous woodbine's offspring; it emblems love;  Viol. 
You would not have us make love?  Flor. 
This mystic way has been allowed of;  Viol. 
And practised?  Flor: 
Yes, and practised.  Viol. 
Sure I should never do't.  Flor. 
No madam? why are not men creatures  
As worthy Courtship, as we?  Viol. 
Oh! but we are women!  Flor: 
Oh! but we are proud.  Viol. 
Shall I take't on your experience?  Flor. 
Or your own:— hall whose voice is that?  Song within. 
My heart is big with grief, my womb with lust,  
Both fruits of my too easy trust;  
Break first my heart, and it will be  
To woeful me  
The welcom'st, and most safe delivery.  Enter Sylvio with a Lute. Syl. 
Hence my delight! thou art turned traitor to me:  
Thy strings conveyed a poison to my ears,  
And they drank deeply of it;— yet forbear,  
Alas it was myself, my inward grief,  
Thrown from the soul in often sighs, that made  
Thy sound infectious; 'tis with that as guilt,  
It grows still greater as 'tis borne about,  
And poisons every thing should work its cure.  Viol. 
Is not this Sylvio, Calantha's Page?  Flor. 
A lover grown? 'las pretty innocence.  
How finely sorrow shows there—! That, that passion  
Is well expressed; now sigh, then knock the breast. Excellent.  Viol. 
Let's use the benefit of this shade, to hide  
ourselves, and secretly acquainted grow  
With the black story of his sad mishap.  Syl. 
Felicia.  
How has thy name, thyself, thy friend deceived thee!  
That only wert acquainted with the sound  
Of happiness; mocked with a false report,  
Into a real misery; whose easy nature  
(The greatest foe unto itself, was flattered)  
Out of a virgin treasure; and then left  
Rifled of all; but (what grief now is preying on)  
A hapless life— yet cruel thief, thoust left  
So much of thee behind, as shall hereafter  
Tell to the world a dark and gloomy tale  
Of thy black perjury.  Flor. 
Ha! does he riddle,  
Or play with grief?  Viol: 
No 'tis too like a truth.  Sylv. 
methinks each thing  
I meet withal upbraids my fond credulity;  
The soaring lark hovers aloft i'th' air,  
At distance from th'enchanting glass, that Courts  
Her to her ruin! the fearful Quail  
Suspects and shuns the music of the pipe  
That sings her into fetters.  
Only poor I am sillier than these;  
Witness th'untimely swelling of this womb  
Pregnant to my disgrace;— As I lay hid  
In yonder thicket, the brambles gently swelled,  
And hid my shame, which yet each trivial wind  
But dallying with, persuaded from my covert!  
And left me naked to heaven's eye; the boughs  
Of the next willow clung about my head,  
As if they'd knit themselves into a garland,  
Which I should wear for my forsaken lover,—  Flor. 
Very pretty!  Viol. 
Were't not so sad.  Sylv: 
Oh you the weak supporters of my woes,  
Why d'ye fail me now at greatest need?  
Bear me at least into some hollow cave  
Where I may die, free from an after scorn;  
And not when I am dead, be found the shame  
Of our frail sex;— Oh! I faint, and fall,  
Just like the early branches of some tree,  
Whose hasty sap shoots into early fruit,  
Till the o'er laden boughs crack with the weight,  
Ere yet they be full ripe—  staggers off. Flor: 
I am amazed, a woman!  Viol. 
Some Lady here o'th' Court, I'll lay my life on't;  
Let's to the Princess and inform her of it.  Exeunt.  

ACT. III. SCEN. VI  Ferrando. Ursini. (Valenzo, Piero, with guard about them.) Fer: 
— Let me eternally perish to honour,  
If their heads answer not for this foul insolence.  Urs. 
Though't be a sin of that portentous bulk,  
That 't startles all the gods, and justice self  
Wakes from a long dead lethargy to meet it:  
Yet Kings are great as they, and spite of fate  
Or rigorous laws, may triumph in their mercy.  Fer: 
Away with 'em to execution;  
Him, and his fellow murderer, away:  
— Pardon a Traitor?  Urs. 
Though you might urge, 'twere treason of that height,  
That none but they could think of, much less act:  
That murder cries for murder, blood for blood:  
That he whose innocence they sacrificed  
To their mad fury, was your loyal subject;  
This on your marriage day— to affront Hymen.  
And when your nuptial torch burned brightest, dead it  
With blood, into a sickly glimmmering taper:  
That they should dare assault me!— i'th' Court—  
One whom your goodness has been pleased to look  
Into a life, and honours, placed i'th' state,  
Only to interpose myself between,  
And meet all dangers that are shot at you.  Fer. 
'Twas a murder  
Intended on our person, but that Heaven—  Urs. 
Was just in the prevention; True it might be so,  
And were it, yet upon submission  
Such faults have been remitted.  Fer. 
Away with 'em, I'll hear no more.  Val. 
Down holy anger!—  (aside) 
One word, and I'm gone— you are my Sovereign,  
And there's divinity worn in that title,  
Which I adore, and think myself as happy  
In this so early doom, since you are pleased with't,  
As heaven had spoke it; though not till old age,  
When nature claimed it as a due! Yet Sir  
Be gentle to my memory; and if  
At any time my crimes appear before you,  
Fresh in your thought, to stain my Heraldry,  
The happy mention of my virtuous acts,  
From some that love my dust, shall rise to plead  
My innocence—; and may you never live  
To curse th' untimely hand; or hour that robbed you  
Of so much loyalty!— for you Ursini—  
If ere your name shall fall in mention, when  
I come i'th' other world, expect me not  
Your friend; I fear me, I shall tell sad tales  
In th'ears of heaven;— Farewell—  Exeunt Val. Pier. with a guard. Fer. 
Impudent Traitor!  Urs. 
Yet still I dare be good; and spite of all  
His hate, or malice to me, thus stand up  
To beg his life.  Fer. 
Not after so much injury?  Urs. 
Yes, if Valenzo dare be sinful still  
In wrongs, it shall be called my piety  
To suffer.  Fer. 
thouart all goodness;— for thy sake  
we'll mix some mercy with our doom,  
He that submits first to thee, has his pardon,  
See justice done on th'other; this sentence  
Shall stand irrevocable;—  Exit. Fer. Urs. 
This sentence stand irrevocable?  
Plague to your easy nature!—  
Ha! this 'tis to overact; how have I almost fooled myself, out  
Of my own plots;  (He that doth first submit?) 
I were in a fine case now, if Piero  
Should not accept a life on this condition.  
I'll send to him— Cassio! Grutti! who waits there?—  Exit Ursin.  

ACT. III. SCEN. VII  Calantha, Sylvio, Flor. Viol Cal. 
Ladies, pray absent yourselves a while;—  Ex. Viol. Flor. 
— With child? impudent whore! to what cursed lump  
Have thy sins swollen thee?  Syl. 
Oh, me miserable!  Cal. 
Hence ingrate wretch! that hast abused my favours  
So far, till thou hast made a sin of charity:  
— Ha! dost weep?—  
My rare dissembler! those tears which art hath taught  
To flow, carry more sinful cunning in 'em,  
Than those the flattering sirens wear upon  
Their cheeks, when they court man to ruin:  
Yet tell me ere you go, whom have those looks  
Beguiled, and trained into your sinful arms.  Syl. 
You must prepare yourself for a sad story then:  Cal. 
Yes, like enough, a tale as sad, and dismal  
As that of Troy, and as much truth in't too!  
Quickly, dispatch, before my anger prove  
Too masculine!— and be modest inth' relation.  Syl. 
You'll wished untold.  Cal. 
Undone I do! but why  
This tedious circumstance? it does involve  
Your guilt.  Syl. 
Know then, that when I was myself  
My name was—  Cal. 
What?  Syl. 
Felicia  Cal. 
Alberto's daughter?  Syl. 
Yes his— that was once Alberto  
Durazzo's far-famed marquess; till  
His cruel Master seized on's life, and honours,  
At his return from Sicily i'th' first wars;  
Where he received a fatal overthrow.  Cal. 
He was in action bold, and valiant!  
However fortune wrought him this disgrace;  Syl. 
Here! here began my misery.  Cal. 
Proceed, trust me I now begin to pity thee.  Syl. 
Then let me die without your farther knowledge  
Of my mishap; 'twill be injurious  
Unto my ashes, and disturb their quiet;  
I know it will;  Cal. 
Nay, prithee tell me, come, and I'll weep with thee.  Syl. 
You'll have cause enough ere I've done;  
Therefore don't hear't;  Cal. 
Is there ought in't concerns me?  Syl. 
Too much  Cal. 
Nay, than I must, and will have all the story,  
Or think thee a foul prostitute.  Syl. 
'Tis thus then!  
— Yet don't believe me, say that I was mad,  
Distracted with my sorrows, that my words  
Fell so uneven from me, you mistook  
The sense; say any thing.—  Cal. 
Come, come, I know thou wilt tell truth!  Syl. 
Or may I never find peace hereafter!  Cal. 
How I fear  
Whether this story tends?  Syl. 
The King madam.  
Ferrando;— (Seize me Courteous death,  
Or I shall poison all her joys;)  Cal. 
Ha! what of him?  
Be sudden, or, I swear by my just anger,  
I'll straight rip up the cradle of thy lust,  
The den where all thy loose adulteries  
Were acted; search each corner of thy womb.  
That keeps a record of thy villainies!  Syl. 
Ferrando was the author of my fall:  Cal. 
More lying than that evil Genius  Kicks her, & Exit. 
That wrought the first man's fall!  Syl. 
Ferrando! oh! oh! (Swoons)  Enter again Calantha Cal. 
Thou rebel passion jealousy! what mean'st thou  
To tumult in my breast?— ha! yet why not?  
Why may not he be false?  Syl. 
Oh! oh! oh!  Cal. 
'tis so!— Felicia!— she's gone, she's gone!  
Help there, Florinda! Violetta! ladies!  
So— she begins to breathe;— look up Felicia!  Syl. 
Where am I?  Cal. 
Here,— a medal? this confirms it;  finds a medal about her neck with the picture of Fer: & Fel. in it 
Ferrando and Felicia!  Syl. 
Ha! the Princess!  
Beshrew me but I've had a fearful dream!  
I hope 'twas but a dream;  Cal. 
No; I know all,  
Ferrando's false, as stained with sin, and perjury  
As howling-Ghosts.  Syl. 
Good Madame don't affright me;  
Your fancy's dark and gloomy.  Cal. 
Yes all hell  
Is there at work contriving a revenge;  Syl. 
Revenge? for whom?  Cal. 
No matter whom;— But tell me  
How, and with what false oaths, he won thee first  
To his loose sheets.  Syl. 
I'll tell you; but you first  
Shall promise me, to bread no other way  
To your revenge and mine, than I shall lead you in.  Cal. 
I do:  
Let's sir, and hear it all.  Syl. 
Whilst yet Alberto lived  
As great in favour as in blood, the glory  
O'th' Court of Naples, honoured with daily visits  
From his Prince; 'twas my unhappy destiny,  
(Fool that I was to be so credulous!)  
To receive many favours from Ferrando;  
Which I interpreted i'th' way of love;  
meanwhile, this match was treated of between  
Him, and yourself; your Father (Sicily's King)  
After your plighted troths, and formal ceremonies  
Used betwixt Prince, and Prince, would break it off,  
Which caused a sudden war upon his Country;  
In which expedition Alberto  
Was sent chief general: the King being forced  
Now to withdraw his public visits, employed  
Ursini in the business; gets access  
Privately to me i'th' might, and that too  
Always i'th' dark, lest happily he might  
Be known to any of my servants; Briefly  
After his many oaths, and protestations  
Of his fair meaning, I at last consented  
To let him steal the fruit, he durst not own:  
When ere I urged, he was engaged to you,  
He answered, that was but a trick of state,  
A fair pretence to colour his design;  
And make't seem glorious, in the eye o'th' world;  
That he warred for a Kingdom, not a Queen;  
Only entreated me, that I'd be silent,  
And not so much as in a sign betray  
Toth' day, what only night was conscious of.  Cal. 
You condescended?  Syl. 
Willingly.  
My father i'th' meanwhile returns defeated,  
For which the King led on by passion, seized  
His life and honours, these conferred on his  
Now favourite Ursini: the fleet re enforced,  
He himself the second time in person  
Went general of the forces, conquered Sicily,  
And slew your father on Messina's plains,  
Last brought you away captive.  Cal. 
But how cam'st thou to Court in Sicily?  
Thou told'st another story then:  Syl: 
For that  
I crave your pardon, 'twas all the untruths  
My life has ere been charged with; but 'twas thus:  
Led partly by a jealous fear, to see  
What he intended; partly to find out  
My brother Frederico, who was left there  
Commander in Mazara, which was took  
In the first expedition, in this disguise,  
'Mongst others whom desire of fame, or profit  
Led to your shore, I crossed the seas; but failing  
In quest of him I sought, I came to Court,  
Where since I have remained.  Cal. 
But why Felicia  
Didst not disclose thyself before this time,  
Now things are grown so bad?  Syl. 
When first I saw  
Your person, and how mutually you loved,  
Knowing how far I was beneath your worth,  
So dear I held you both, that I determined  
For ever to be lost to memory;  
And serve you thus in this disguise: which I  
Had done, but that this hapless chance  
Betrayed me to your knowledge.  Cal. 
Alas! thy piety has undone us both!  Syl. 
'Twas my too cruel destinies!  Cal, 
Methinks we two now seem to be set copies  
Of griefs, to which wronged virgins will repair,  
To take out patterns by.  Syl. 
Our wrongs and sorrows  
Have made us just so like to one another,  
That each seems the others counterfeit.  Cal. 
We'll sit, and descant on our miseries,  
Count the extent of each, proportion tears,  
And sighs unto them.  Syl. 
Her's that doth surmount,  
Shall borrow grief of tother.  Cal. 
H'as robbed me of a father cruel Tyrant,  Syl. 
H'as robbed me of a father cruel Tyrant,  Cal: 
Bereaved me of my friends, and loving subjects,  Syl: 
Bereaved me of my Brother, and my friends.  Cal: 
ta'e away all my honours, and my dower.  Syl. 
Taken my virgin honour, all my dower.  Cal: 
H'as mocked me with the title of a Queen.  Syl. 
H'as mocked me with the title of a Queen.  Cal: 
— But I am lost in Passion.  Sylv: 
And I am lost in Passion.  Cal: 
Felicia come, and as our wrongs are equal,  
So let our revenge be; we'll hand in hand  
Assault this Tyrant; and in bloody Characters  
Print on his body the story of our sufferings:  Syl: 
Yet this cannot cure our grief.  Cal: 
What though, wronged innocence?  
In death it will entitle us to honours;  
And though our bodies moulder to corruption,  
Our better part shall survive fame; our names,  
Free from decay, shall swell up numerous volumes;  
Whilst our sad legends shall be made a pillow,  
To every sleeping virgin.  Syl. 
O yet for my sake have some pity on him,  
And for that part of him, that's cradled here,  
'Las he may live to make us fair amends.  Cal: 
For thy sake I could spare him, but my wrongs  
Sit heavy here, and urge me to revenge.  Syl: 
But say i've thought a way, how we may yet  
Be both restored to happiness, would you not  
Accept, and follow't?  Cal: 
Speak it (gentle soul.)  Syl: 
As yet (you know) your virgin treasure stands  
Free from his ruder touch: those Ceremonies,  
Which linked you in one Hymeneal knot,  
Religion will make void, the precontract  
'Twixt him and me being known, so that you then,  
On this part are free from him; enjoy him thus  
You cannot, neither would you (I suppose)  
After these wrongs, (if you might be permitted:)  
What hinders then, but that I take your place  
This night? and show him, to what height his perjury  
Has wrought our wrongs, whilst you in some disguise  
May quit the Court, and ere next Sun appear,  
From hence towards France, to whom you are allied  
In blood, and wrongs.—  Cal: 
Content,— I'll in, and haste me to be gone,  
To go there is some hope.  Syl: 
To stay there's none.  Exeunt.   

ACT: IV.  

SCEN. I.  Piero. Cassio. as in the Prison. Pier: 
— To me this?  Cass: 
Out of particular respect  
He stood engaged to repay your merits.  Pier: 
Dare you  
Promise so much for's Lordship?  Cass: 
The Contents  
Of that will speak, how much he tenders goodness  
In every noble breast.  Pier: 
No doubt Sir, but  
You are familiar with the sense it carries,  
And can inform me, better than the dark Character.  Cass: 
'Tis that you'd be pleased t'accept  
A life, for which to's Piety you shall owe,  
Only a fair acknowledgement.  Pier: 
Wondrous good!  
'Tis a becoming charity this, and he  
Wears it amongst the chiefest of his virtues.  Cass: 
Sir, it must needs be eminent in's Lordship,  
Since exercised upon so noble a subject  
As yourself  Pier: 
But stay?— now I think on't,  
This is a benefit of that nature, it seldom comes  
Alone, are there not honours too? preferments  
That wait upon this gift? speak, shall I be  
His Lordship's creature?  Cass: 
He's passionately yours.  Pier: 
Are we not for design?— ba, what dark trick  
Is there i'th' State, that doth imply danger  
Enough for us to manage, doth he think  
Us fit to temper poisons, or use the benefit  
O'th' night to seize on his State-rivals, are we  
Potent enough for faction, or intended  
Intelligencer to some foreign Prince?  Cass: 
What mean you?  Pier. 
Engagements of this nature urge a return  
Of thanks proportionable to themselves,  
And what we have of such rich values,  
I cannot tell, lest t'be our souls forfeited  
Toth' next occasion his Lordship has to use 'em.  Cass: 
This is strange language Sir, my understanding  
Has not yet arrived at what it means.  Pier: 
Go home and study it then:— and d'ye hear,  Strikes him. 
Entreat my Lord, t'employ his favours to  
Some further profit, he'll scarce be gainer by 'em else.  Cass: 
I shall acquaint him with your humour.  Pier: 
Do maggot, wriggle, wriggle, do:—  Exit Cass:  

ACT. IV. SCEN. II.  To Piero, Charintha; (Valenzo behind the hangings.) Char. 
Piero.  Pier. 
madam! I am all joy, life, honours,  
Preferment, and what not?  Char. 
Then I'm undone!  
Piero! didst not promise me to stand  
The utmost of's temptations? didst thou boast  
Thy virtuous strength, and fallest at the first onset?  Pier. 
Life madam is sweet.  Char. 
If hitherto  
It hath been so, hereafter 'twill be all  
Bitterness, thou hast betrayed thy friend to death;  
The thought of which will sour all thy content,  
Make thy best pleasures relish worse than gall.  Pier. 
Life, with the worst that can befall us, is  
A good exchange for death; but here are honours  
Annexed to't Lady! I shall be great in favour.  Char. 
Thou wilt grow big in sin too! thou must barter  
Thy virtue for preferment; which being gone,  
At best thou'lt be but painted ruins,  
A glorious misery; thou must owe life  
To him, that will infect and kill thy soul.  Pier. 
Yet you would be content, Valenzo should  
Accept a life, on this condition.  Char. 
Yet he may live, and still be virtuous.  Pier. 
Why? so may I.  Char. 
Yet he's thy friend.  Pier. 
Am not I his too?  Char. 
'twill be a glory to thee after death  
That thou wert friendships martyr, a title  
Will sit upon thy tomb, richer than all  
Thy Heraldry; more lasting than thy marble.  Pier. 
To show how far, I can prefer him to  
myself, I am content this honour should be his.  Char: 
False to thy friend, and virtue! that only cam'st  
To mock calamity, and midst our wrongs  
Remain our greatest in jury.  Pier. 
Mistake me not,  
I only did prepare you for a joy,  
Which now you're ripe for:— know then, 'T returned  
Him scorn for all his flattering promises;  
And stood resolved t'encounter with his fury,  
Made hot by my disdain.  Char: 
Miracle of friendship.  Pier. 
Since 'tis decreed that one of us must fall,  
And only one, my death shall free us both  
From the law's rigour, enjoy your best Valenzo,  
Enjoy him long, may you (a happy pair)  
Grow like two neighbouring roses on one stalk,  
Partaking mutually each others sweets;  
Whence no rude hand approach to ravish you,  
But when you are full blown, and ripe for heaven,  
May you fall gently both into one grave,  
There lie entombed in your own odours.  Char. 
Piero, thou go'st  
To heaven, to be the envy of the Saints;  
For when thou com'st where those blessed troops reside,  
No man shall ere direct a vow, or prayer,  
But unto thee!— Valenzo take thy friend, (Val: Enters)  
Take him unto thy bosom, he has so much  
Of heaven in him, I fear he can scarce die.  Val: 
Is it your fear, madam? can he deserve less in  
Your fair opinion, than to be thought immortal?  
That death at length should boast a victory  
o'er so much goodness.— Methinks (Piero)  
Thou shouldst for ever stand a rich example,  
To all mankind, who in thy fall will sicken,  
And die to virtue; enjoy the happiness  
Of thine own fate; I will not rob thee of  
One precious minute; live till time has poured  
A reverend snow upon thy head.—  Pier: 
But justice must be satisfied.  Val: 
I'll bow myself beneath the stroke.  Pier: 
To slay  
The innocent, is not to expiate,  
But make a crime, preserve thyself entire  
To thy Charintha, King, and Country.  Val: 
What!  
And betray my friend to death?  Pier. 
To what  
I have deserved.  Val: 
'twas thy too forward zeal, and a ripe spirit.  
That spurred thee on to action, thou didst it for  
Thy friend, for me, and had not justice been  
Wronged in't, the honour had been mine, why not  
The shame?  Pier: 
You must not, shall not die.  Val: 
No more!  
'Twill prove a breach of friendship else, I must not,  
Shall not die: my honour suffers double,  
Thou wouldst foil me both in love, and valour.  Pier: 
Pity these tears.  Char: 
Or in thy ruin I  
Am lost.  Pier: 
Justice requires but one, her fate  
Is so involved in yours, you cannot fall,  
But in it she must find a certain death;  
Think then, how can you satisfy the law?  Val. 
Far easier than you, in whose sad loss  
The whole world suffers, and in thy unripe fall  
loses all goodness.  Char: 
Stint this pious strife,  
I have been too much woman, and betrayed  
My name to infamy, in this tame passion:  
Possess me a just anger, a spirit great  
And noble as my birth; that I may shake,  
And rouse this sleepy Prince, from his dull lethargy;  
Who's wholly lost, in the bewitching flatteries  
Of that bad man;— alas this is a danger  
Too potent for your stars to free you from;  
Henceforth I'll be your destinies: for since  
This calm brings nothing but a certain fall,  
A storm shall either save, or ruin all.  (Exeunt.)  

ACT. IV. SCEN. III.  Ferrando. Ursini. Charintha. A Table is set forth; taper, pen, ink, etc. Fer. 
Contemn our pardon.  Urs. 
Return your favours too  
With so much scorn.  Fer: 
Better they'd played with lightning,  
Or hugged a thunderbolt.  Urs. 
Justice is slow  
Of pace, and if not led by fury,  
Seldom o'ertakes the crime, let your return  
Of punishment be quick, and active, delay is worse  
Than pity, and more dangerous: Valenzo  
Is popular, and who knows, but he had rather,  
Owe his life to the people's mutiny, than your pardon,  
And therefore slighted it.  Fer: 
Oh the state of Princes!  
How far are we from that security,  
we dreamt of in th'expectance of our crown?  
Were foreign dangers nothing, yet we nourish  
Our ruin in our bosom: Valenzo is a traitor,  
So is Piero too; and who is not in this age?  
It is unsafe not to suspect ourself.  
To torture with 'em; be noble in thy justice:—  
Here draw a warrant for their execution;—  
We'll sign't with our own signer;— hence pity,  
Post from our breast; we banish thee our bosom  
thouart a disease bred there to ruin Majesty: Ursini preparing to write.  
And sink us below our subjects' scorn.—  Charintha? (Enter Charintha.) 
Our Princely cousin, welcome to Court; thou hast  
Been too long absent, (I must chide thee for't,)  
And envied us the boast of virtue.  Char: 
Virtue!  Urs. 
Some malicious devil now, or other,  
Has enticed her from her beads;  
To undo me, and my plots, she carries anger  
In her brow:— this I must mitigate, or I am  
Lost.—  Fer: 
Thou art so eager after heaven,  
Thou wilt o'er-buy thy happiness.  Char: 
Never fear't Sir.  Fer: 
But thy devotion's seasoned with so much charity,  
Thou pil'st a stock of merit up for us  
At Court.  Char: 
I believe you'd need on't.  Fer: 
As long as we live here we shall;—  Char: 
So wicked!  Fer: 
Ha! what frown's that, whence these clouds, Charintha?  
So rises the blushing morn, as thou wert wont  
To smile, when thou appearedst, we owe  
Our day unto thy eyes; and if thou think'st  
Thy beauty's worn too cheap, we'll become tributaries  
To thee for light; chase hence this sullen darkness,  
Thy absence has already made too long  
A night.  Char: 
No Sir; 'twas your black deeds.  Fer. 
How's this?  
doye know me, who I am?  Char: 
Not well.  Fer: 
Your King.  Char: 
A Tyrant  
Of big, and grorious impieties,  
A regal monster, the true head of that  
Beast you rule, the multitude: more cruel  
Than enraged lions, or robbed bears; who both  
Will spare the innocent, and humble.  Fer: 
Look toth' Lady there, sure she's distracted.  Char: 
My wrongs indeed would make me so.  Fer: 
What wrongs? whence? or from whom?  Char. 
Raise not my anger higher with your scorn;—  Fer. 
By all that's.—  Char. 
Or if't be ignorance of my sufferings,  
It but betrays your want of reason, and  
How far you're lost to man, by your fond dotage.  Fer. 
Grow more particular, or wonder ruins me.  Char. 
Good God! I've suffered so long, till patience  
Grew my greatest crime.—  Urs. 
Now, now the storm is coming this way,  
But I'm prepared to meet it.  Char. 
Whence? or from whom?  
Ask this good man how often he has mourned  
Over the ruins of my fame? how often  
His ears have met with the report of my  
Disgrace? how I was noised a strumpet? when  
Each talking thing at Court, might freely act  
A rape upon my virtue, till I was left  
All a whole stain, black as the front of perjured  
Sinners? while you, (as if I'd been a trifle  
Cast from your blood, and kindred, or some dark thing,  
Whose actions were so foully bad.  
That report bettered 'em in the expression:)  
Could sit as silent as the night; as calm  
As seas, when the winds sleep; yet at last be just;  
And say, how have I appeared to you, or him,  
That calumny has thus been privileged,  
To violate my honour?  Urs. 
madam,  
I have always spoke you, chastities best example.  Fer: 
Innocence itself is not so white.  Char. 
Yet he that would confirm this with his sword,  
Must meet, with prisons, wracks, and tortures,  
As a reward of so much virtue!  Fer. 
Ha!  Urs. 
Sweetest Princess!—  Char: 
And ere he die, must suffer in's honour,  
Be proclaimed traitor to the state:  Fer: 
Ursini, thou hast abused our trust.  Urs. 
My Lord.—  Char: 
Too weak pretence, for your ingratitude  
To so large merit; Naples calls him  
Her chief preserver; he brought home victory,  
By his own arm achieved, when the proud foe,  
Threatened your Kingdom with a fatal downfall.  
He, to whose arm you owe your life, your crown,  
To whom in war, you'd sooner fly for help  
Then to the Altar; now in peace must have  
His temples robbed; his garlands from his brow  
Transplanted. to adorn this useless statua.  Urs. 
madam, I have not so appeared in managing these affairs of yours.  Char. 
Would thou hadst,  
Or somewhat that carries less resemblance  
Of man: Oh thou art bravely wicked.  Urs. 
I have not used the art to boast the virtue  
Of mine own actions; yet heaven knows  
They were all good, and aimed at ends as honourable  
As your desires.  Fer. 
Ursini leave, till there is hope of pardon,  
This impudence in sin,  
bids a defiance to all mercy; did we not,  
At your persuasion, give order for Valenzo's  
Quick dispatch?  Urs. 
howe'er I seemed( great Sir) to run down with the stream of your violent passion, yet my intents still bore up against it; witness this paper.  Deliver's a paper to Ferrando, who reads it. Fer: 
Ha! What's here a pardon?  Urs. 
Which you had sealed ere this, had not this Lady here interrupted it.  Fer. 
How?  Urs. 
your passion would not have permitted you,  
To have o'er viewed what you consented too;  
This I knew, as likewise how dangerous it  
Would have been to the state, if he had fallen.  Fer: 
Again my own Ursini:—  
Charintha, pardon our errors, we will deserve it,  
By the future love, and honours we will throw  
On our Valenzo,— here take my signer  
Fetch 'em to Court.  Char: 
You are noble.  Fer: 
Ursini Wait on her to the Castle.  Urs. 
You honour me.  Fer. 
Oh how near were we destruction.  
Reason sit still enthroned in thine own state,  
'tis passion only ruins Kings, not fate.  Exeunt  

ACT. IV. SCEN IV.  Bentivoglio. Alphonso. Grutti. Cassio. Violetta. Florinda. Bent: 
Hold up, hold up Sir, the Ladies are coming this way,— for shame,— God's me, they're here; why d'ye tremble so Sir?  Alph: 
A violent fit o'th' ague; oh! oh! oh! have me to bed gently, gently, or I shall scatter all my limbs;  Bent: 
Discredited for ever, (here take this staff Sir)— have I boasted your strength to them?— fortified you for th' encounter, and you fail me thus?— undone, undone!  Alph: 
Oh! oh! oh! for half a dozen of night caps.  Bent: 
Here Sir, on with 'em; they're somewhat dirty, they'll keep you the warmer;— now shall I be called mountebank; quacksalver, Pisspot-peeper: and all the ugly mangy names can be invented.— come in, come in.—  Grut: 
'Twill be a Scene of modest mirth, Ladies.  Cass. 
The Physician has cooled him.  Bent: 
Why Sir, you won't disgrace me? go towards 'em.  Alph: 
Some fire, some fire;— cold, cold, cold, cold.  Bent. 
Here, here, on with my gown:— this cap, so, so.  Grut: 
Ladies, we'll take leave to be bold here to vex him.  Viol: 
How d'ye my Lord?  Flor. 
We are come here to await your pleasure.  Cass. 
The very thought on't has cast him into a cold sweat.  Alph: 
Oh! oh!  Cass: 
Now for fifty virgins.  Grut. 
A monopoly of women.  Bent. 
Hey, for a wench, for a wench, to bumfiddle now; Ah! ha!  Alph. 
Oh! ho! oh!  Bent. 
doye remember you'd play the fool in my gown, and cap excellently.  Grut. 
Well said Doctor.  Cass. 
To him Doctor.  Bent. 
Then a noise of Musicians would do rarely.  Cass: 
Look he's nodding.  Viol: 
My Lord you intend no abuse to us?  Flor: 
Make us hazard our credits for nothing?  Alph. 
More clothes;— why hoe there, on my feet I say.  Grut. 
He's dreaming.  Bent. 
Fast, fast asleep, so, so, this charm lasts till Midnight, and then he wakes.  Grut: 
'Twill be good sport to see him then—  Bent. 
Dance up and down the Court like the ghost of old Hippocrates.  Viol. 
You must not expose him to the public view.  Cass. 
Mr Doctor you're sufficiently revenged, this is enough for you to boast on when you come i'th' University.  Bent. 
This, and the rare cures I've done upon you two shall be my theme.— Good night.— Ladies I'm your servant.— My doughty placket-hunter lie thee there, and e'en awake when thy stomach serves thee; tomorrow morning I'm for Padua.—  Exeunt.  

ACT. IV. SCEN. V  Zisco. Ursini. etc. Zisc. 
The night comes on apace, straight every thing  
Will be as black as I, and alike terrible,  
Nay outdo me too: each leaf that stirs  
Affrights the fearful, makes the guilty tremble,  
And yet this night, what is it but a shadow?  
Yet I am less than that, for I do less:  
I that have purposed so much, act nothing!  
Horror! could but my thoughts be seen, they'd own  
Murders, more than the basilisk could commit,  
Were he all eye, more than revenge has acted,  
Or than the trivial spite of plague, and war  
Produce, in their full heat.— Ursini be speedy  
Or I'll outrun design.—  Enter Ursini. Urs. 
Zisco.  Zisc. 
My Lord.  Urs. 
The hours are favourable  
And have brought opportunity along with 'em,  
We must resolve for action.  Zis. 
I'm prepared.  Urs. 
But Zisco, art thou sure Felicia was.—  Zis. 
Sure? puh! would you know? I myself  
Am the moor he caused to ravish her.  Urs. 
And canst thou do't again?  Zis. 
Bravely.  Urs. 
This night than thou shalt— ravish his Mistress,  
Calantha! this night! I've prepared all things ready  
For thy conveyance into her chamber— thou wilt do't  Zis. 
Resolved.  Urs. 
And kill her too?  Zisc. 
An she were my mother.  Enter Grutti. Urs. 
Obscure yourself a while.— how now?  Grut. 
My Lord, the French have kept their word,  
And unespied have stolen from Genoa,  
Entered our haven, and this night have set  
Upon our fleet, the bold Sicilians too  
I'th' town are up in arms.  Urs. 
There spoke my Genius.  Enter Cassio. Cass: 
My Lord! the city's in a mutiny,  
The Court in wild distraction.  Urs. 
Well, beyond my hopes: excellent well; Grutti, Cassio, be near us, we must use your help tonight.  Cass: 
Valenzo plays from the Castle with his Canons,  
And strikes both parties without distinction:  
He's now marching up with a well ordered troop,  
'tis thought he had intelligence of your intents.  Urs. 
O my fate! that man undoes me.  
Thus early sins are blasted in the bud,  
There is no safety but in being good.  Exeunt.   

ACT: V  

SCEN. I.  Valenzo, Contareno, Galeotto, Gonçales. Val: 
— 'Tis late.  
Each man retire to his quarter: Captains,  
We entertain your merit with a serious welcome.  Gal. 
Our deserts, my Lord,  
Are so slender, that were't not to prejudice  
Your judgement, we would blush to own any.  Cont. 
Hang this flattery, merit quotha? is't such a piece of merit to cut a score or two of throats; knock down an hundred o'th' city herd? a gallant could do so much for's Cockatrice.  Val: 
The King shall give you each particular thinks: He owes you both a trophy,  Gal. 
His acknowledgement  
Of our duty, would raise our pride to sin,  
We should forget to let heaven share i'th' victory.  Cont: 
Victories, by Mars's crest it deserves not to come i'th' Chronicle, though Hollinshead or Hall, those voluminous foreigners should write our annals, 'twill ne'er make us justle in among the Caesars, or own a name i'th' list o'th' worthies.  Val. 
No Contareno, we will not have thee painted in vile ugly colours, and clapped upon chimneys, thou shalt be cut—  Cont. 
In brass? mine would make an excellent brazen face?  Val: 
In Parian marble, we'll rob the Quarries  
To rear thee up a glorious monument.  Cont. 
A glorious loam to set lazy spiders a work in, an office for birds to mute in, if these be your glorious monuments for men of arms, I'll e'en live to sin out my merit (as you call it) then when I die, the world and I will shake hands, and cry quit of all sides.  Val. 
He that should hear thee talk thus, and not know thee well, would doubt thy valour.  Cont: 
Hercules! an he did he should try it.  Val. 
'twere punishment enough.  Enter Gonçales. 
Gonçales— I gratulate thy naval victory;  
France will have cause hereafter to mention thee in sad story,  
Thou giv'st them but a churlish salutation.  Gon. 
Such as they deserved,  
It seems they came rather to steal than fight,  
They were as ill prepared, as they had meant  
To bear our empty hulks away unquestioned;  
For soon as they perceived we descried 'em,  
Pale, as the lilies in their trembling flags,  
They turned their sails, and fled; we made after 'em,  
With swift winged lightning from our canon's mouth,  
Which sunk and fired 'em all, ere they could quit  
The channel, or gain the wider Ocean;  Val. 
Believe me, noble Soldier, thou art dear  
To fame; as old in victory, as in years,  
Yet still thou toil'st t'undo thyself, and benefit  
Thy ingrateful soil, which never will be able  
To requite thy meanest service.  Gon: 
Yet you for the same cause, i'th' pride of youth,  
Opposed yourself betwixt the state and danger,  
When their sick hopes, were as their fortunes, desperate;  
Reduced a Kingdom to your sway, in whose  
Rich spoils, your gawdy Soldier triumphs;  
Whilst boasting of their rifled plumes, they drink  
healths to victory; yet those so moderate,  
Their bowls increase their fury, not their surfeits.  Cont: 
How these tall men o'th' sword claw one another?  Gal: 
They have an itch of pride runs through 'em.  Val. 
The Hero's, when thou com'st into Elysium,  
To give thee place, shall shift their blessed mansions.  Gon: 
And load thee with their laurels.   

ACT: V SCEN II.  To them Calantha disguised. Cal: 
How my fears betray me! shunning  
One toil, I run into another.  Cont: 
Che va la?  Cal. 
Oh me! I'm surprised.  Cont: 
Spirit of valour thouart my prisoner.  Val. 
Ha! whom have you there?  Cal: 
(Valenzo! my voice betrays me.)  Cont. 
A young Sicilian, shall I draw my steel,  
And give him a gentle stroke?  Cal. 
Lend me my sword— and be thou what thou wilt I dare thee to thy worst.  Cont. 
Bravely spoke,— set forward then.—  Val. 
Traitor! the Princess! Calantha!  Cont. 
All the better; she's skilful at her weapon,  
We'll but exchange a thrust in sport.  Gal. & Gon. 
Ha! what means this flight?  Cal. 
Dare none of you fight?  Val. 
Dear Lady, not with you.  Cal, 
Then you are cowards, they speak you so i'th' City,  
And I came out thus purposely to try you.  Val. 
If you please, you shall quickly see that,  
Command us sheathe our swords in one another's  
Bosoms— we'll fly like lightning to execute your  
Commands;— you're our Princess.  Cal. 
No, I'm your Prince's murderess.  Omnes. 
How?  Cal: 
I've killed your King: will none  
Dispatch me yet?  Gon: 
Sure she's distracted.  Val: 
We must disarm you Lady;— 'tis a duty to our Prince  
Was never till now unwillingly performed!  
You must back toth' Court, whither we'll wait upon you.  Cal: 
villains, cowards,  (Exeunt Val. Gon. Cal:) Gal: 
The Princess! what made she abroad so late?  Cont. 
Did she not say that she had killed the King too?  Gal: 
Come let's walk the round; things are yet unsettled.  Cont. 
'Tis so dark now, an the devil should lie perdieu I should go near to stumble on's horns.  Exeunt.  

ACT. V SCEN. III.  Florinda. Violetta. Felicia, (going to bed.) Flor. 
Too much of this sad story, Oh these men  
How are they degenerate from the goodness  
Of their creation! they have been always false—  Viol. 
Silly as we are,  
We know it; their vows and oaths are traitors  
To us, and yet we hug them, let them into our bosoms,  
Into our hearts, till they undo us?  Flor: 
But madam, why d'ye desire us to leave you?  
Fear you not his fury, what it may prompt him too,  
When he shall see you are not his Calantha.  Fel. 
He never was acquainted with that passion,  
He's violent in nothing,— But in love.  Viol. 
And yet he may dissemble that too  
As well as his vows.  Fel. 
Should he? were his hand  
Lift up to strike me, I can charm it there!  
Who can look on a lady's bended knees,  
Wet cheeks, swollen eyes, hear her sighs, her prayers,  
And yet be cruel: If there be one that can,  
That one is not Ferrando; his bosom is  
Passable to every groan; it strikes his heart:  
He would tell me (when he was absent)  
If I sigh't, or wept, for then he said  
He wept and sighed by sympathy.  Viol. 
Yet now he loves you not.  Fel: 
Can he not love himself? here, here I bear him,  
Himself in a less model, this I'll show him,  
If he mistrust 'tis none of his; let him  
But rip me up, there he shall see each limb  
As like to his, as his one hand, one eye,  
One cheek is like the other: besides there lies  
Folded by his own name, he told me he  
Would call it so, (Ferrando,) and lest I  
Should chance forget, I wrote it in my heart,  
There he will find it.  Flor. 
Good Lady!  Viol: 
'tis a sad nuptial night, this,  Fer: 
I'll tell him too how he  
Would grieve if I were dead, go hanging down  
His head, vailing his eyes from heaven, ashamed  
To look up to the place, where his Felicia is:  
Or poring on the ground, as he would find  
Where my neglected ashes lay a sport  
To th' winds; where some rude blast might blow me up  
Into his eyes, and then he'd weep to find,  
Me there; weep till the fretting brine had burned  
His eyeballs out.  
He told me of his dreams, what pleasure he  
Had to find me in 'em: alas they will  
Be terrible now: I shall affright him, appear  
A thin pale ghost, make him start out in his sleep;  
(Alas! I will not) yet he'll dream he heard me.  
Cry out, Ferrando! revenge upon Ferrando:  
This cannot choose but startle him.—  Viol: 
Heaven grant it may.  Flor: 
madam all joy that we can hope, or wish,  
Be with you.  Fer:— 
I'll go alone into the bedchamber.  
There expect him,— pray leave me.  Flor. 
Good night, I hear him coming.  Exeunt severally,  

ACT. V SCEN IV.  Ferrando. Ursini. Fer: 
Our Navy victor.  Urs. 
The City quiet too I those clouds  
Which threatened ruin to your Kingdom, all  
Blown o'er; the sky serene and calm, as if  
It laughed at your vain fears; the lamps of heaven  
That now seemed all blown out, are trimmed a new  
And brighter shine, to lead you to Elysium.  Fer: 
To Heaven, Elyzium's poor to what we shall  
Enjoy tonight.  Urs. 
The land of some dull villager  
Or doughty Poets dreams.  Fer: 
The birth of fancy,  
A thin, fantastic, airy paradise;  
With which they flatter their weak hopes, but mine  
Is known to sense; we gather odours there; wealthy  
In their native sweetness, flowers of a hue  
As bright as lasting, roses and lilies  
Blown from their stalks, meet here, and dwell upon  
Her cheeks, as if there only they were privileged  
To enjoy an everlasting spring.  Urs. 
Let your  
Imaginations seed even to a surfeit, your senses  
Are too too weak, and narrow t'entertain  
The bounteous flowing of her pleasures:  
You'll let so much pass by unknown,  
As if you took but tribute of her blessings:  
When the whole stock is yours.  Fer: 
We'll be her Mars, and meet her in soft skirmish,  
In amorous duel, where we'll softly yield  
And let her win: (to raise her to the pride  
Of a new victory, as much upon ourselves  
As we have done upon her Country,  
Then shall she bind us gently in her hair  
Fetters for Captive lovers, and in scorn  
Of our trim youth, and temperate blood, when we  
Begin to faint within her arms, shall then  
Supply us with new strength from her own eyes;  
Whence she will dart a soul at every glance  
Rich as herself, and the blessed smiles 'tis made of;  
Create an active flame within our breast  
Able to give old statuas life and motion,  
Make their stiff marble feet supple as the joints  
Of love:— oh I'm lost! my Venus  
Come; lead to my Venus.  Urs. 
Your Cynthia,— your Moon  Curtain drawn, Felicia discovered lying upon a bed, Zisco, as having ravished, and then slain her. 
With a man in her— there there's  
Your way, why move you not?  
How you stand.  Fer: 
Ursini, Ha! Seest thou that black thing there?  
That ugly fiend, I'll out stare thee, devil.  Urs. 
Where are you Sir?  Zis: 
'Tis done.  Fer: 
Ravished! Calantha's ravished— oh torment!  
Grim fury post to hell.  Zis: 
Pardon me Sir,  
I've a little business to dispatch first—  (stabs him. 
This for Felicia, thus Alberto fell.  Fer. 
Oh I'm wounded.  Zis: 
Ha! d'ye know me Prince?  (pulls off his disguise.) Urs. 
Frederico! just heavens.  Zis. 
Stay your hand— be innocent in your revenge,  
Let me bear all the guilt.  Urs. 
Couldst thou think, dull Prince, that heaven so  
Doted on thy royalty, thy crown, thy sceptre,  
Or regal pall could bear thee out in sin?  
Or the weak shine of trivial state dazzle  
Their eyes that look upon the blessed sun!  
Couldst thou flatter thyself into such a Security,  
That vengeance would not find thee out?  
When thou hadst forfeited thy luxurious palate  
With all the dainties of Felicia's body  
Thirsted her blood, quaffed off whole bowls of it,  
Till thou were't drunk, and wild with fury  
Of thy intemperate draughts— Am not I a rare villain now?  Fer. 
Mad, stark mad, besides himself,  (aside) 
Sure this is but a dream, and I asleep.  Zis: 
Thus, thus I'll wake you:—  (stabs him.) Fer: 
Oh my blood scalds, h'has shot wild fire into my heart,  
Ah traitor, thy steel is poisoned.  Urs. 
Frederico, let me embrace thee:  
Now our revenge is perfect.  A noise within. Enter fighting, Valenzo, Grutti, Gonçales, Cassio, Calantha. Grut: 
Your passage lies this way.  Cass. 
through us.  Val: 
Treason, treason, raise the Court.  Gon: 
Break open the doors.  Urs. 
We are betrayed.  Val: 
Villain I greet thy heart.  (kills him.) Cass. 
Where tends your business?  Gon: 
Slave to hell, and thou shalt carry't thither.  kills him. Fer: 
Fire, fire, the poison boil my entrails.  Val: 
The Prince wounded!  Gon: 
Where are the traitors?  Zis: 
Here I am his murderer.  Val: 
Frederico.  Urs. 
Valenzo, I am o'ercome.—  Flings him his sword. Fer: 
New miracles, Calantha, my best my dearest love:— Oh I am sick, stand off Calantha, my breath's so hot, 'twill singe thee else; and lick thy beauties up, like nimble flames; But dost thou live?  Cal: 
To curse thee false and perjured.  Fer: 
The spheres are out of tune; nature's distraught;  
The orbs celestial have turned round so long  
That they are giddy: the stars are in a mutiny,  
The Intelligences are altogether byth' ears.  Cal: 
Heaven! I bless your justice:  
Stern tyrant! that triumphest o'er the memory  
Of my father, mockest me with love,  
Till like a fool I doted on my fetters,  
'Cause they were golden ones, that thus  
Thy devilish art might make my soul a captive,  
With my body.  Fer: 
Enigmatical.  Cal: 
Yet then a Lady mourned thy perjured vows.  
Whom thou betrayd'st to loose adultery.  Fer: 
Thy speech, Calantha, is darker than an Oracle.  Cal: 
Truer it is, and dar'st thou yet dissemble it?  
'Tis a truth precious to time, who will preserv't  
To blast thy memory, and derive a stain  
On all thy successors.  Urs. 
How? or when arrived this your knowledge madam?  Zis. 
How? or when arrived this your knowledge madam?  Cal: 
Felicia told me all herself  
Confirmed it by religious oaths; besides  
This medal which she gave me from her neck,  
A pledge of his broke faith, with the sad fruits  
Of his sate lust, within her womb.  Fer: 
She's a black whore: she lies; believe her not.  Cal. 
Thou wilt be damned:  Fer. 
So may I; and howl eternally  
In those blue flames the devils bathe in,  
If ever my vows were made to any other  
Than thee; and those, as spotless as thy soul.—  Urs: 
But whom have we here?  Cal. 
Felicia! Sad Lady she entreated  
This night's exchange of place; that she might show him  
What an untimely mother he had made her,  
And this 'twas caused my flight,  Fer: 
Felicia!  Cal: 
Ha! murdered.  Urs. 
My love.  Zis. 
My sister! ravished:  
And murdered by! me, incestuous villain!  Urs. 
Didst thou not tell me that Ferrando ravished her,  
And cast her to his slaves, a prey to their  
Bold appetites and furies.  Zis. 
To incense you the more against him; I told you  
What I only did imagine, because at my return  
From Sicily, report whispered her lost,  
Lost in the ruins of my Father,  
Which made me think her murdered.  Urs. 
Ye Gods! I now acknowledge you supreme:  
Your power is mighty over our fond arts.  
Silly projectors we ensnare ourselves!  
Whilst we spread nets for others.  
This brain has wrought all these sad plots,  
Calantha, take your Lord; who is as true,  
And holy in his vows, as those blessed Saints  
He invoked.  Cal: 
And yet Felicia wronged?  Urs. 
'Twas I by whom she swelled, and not Ferrando,  
As 'twas supposed.  Cal: 
Supposed! she swore 'twas he.  Fer: 
Ursini, farewell; I'll hear the rest anon—  (dies. Urs. 
That aggravates my crime, who wrought her into  
This false belief, for having long loved her,  
Without return of mutual flames, and at length  
Finding that the impediment was her fond  
Dotage upon the Prince; I determined,  
Rather than not to be possessed of her,  
To part with faith and loyalty, feigned all  
My visits for him, courted her acceptation  
Of his love, which I so darkly brought about  
That she consenting to private meetings  
As oft as she expected the Prince,  
I myself filled her arms.—  Cal: 
Then you conclude Ferrando innocent?  Urs. 
In act, or thought.  Zis: 
Felicia! sister! your brother Frederico calls,  
She's gone, cold, cold! and pale, and yet methinks  
She smiles, look up, Felicia—  Cal: 
But how came it to pass she ne'er descried you?  Urs. 
For reasons I then gave her: all our meetings  
Were in the night, and that i'th' dark too, where I  
Dissembled so the Prince in voice and gesture.—  Cal. 
This agrees right with her relation: villain thou haste undone me.  Urs. 
And myself too.  Zisc. 
Death hangs upon her lids, 'tis eternal night with her. hoa, sister, stay, take me along with you; I'll follow you.  (Stabs himself.) Val. 
Pernicious traitor.  Cal. 
Rage chokes my utterance:— give me your sword.  Val. 
Our hearts and hands are yours:  Gon. 
Our hearts and hands are yours:  Cal: 
I'll be an age in killing thee, dost tremble?  
Thou look'st like one of those thin frozen ghosts,  
That chattering lie on hills of thick-ribbed Ice,  
Come meet my fury.  Urs. 
Here, here's my heart.  Cal: 
I: I'll dig it out,  
And cast it to the hungry fiends.  Zis: 
My strength decays, I reel and totter like a cracked reed that leans against the winds.  Cal: 
Take your sword.—  Urs: 
madam.  Cal: 
Take it I say.  Val. 
You do him too much honour.  Cal: 
Managed with skill and strength, or thou affront'st  
My honour,— faint-hearted! coward, I'll follow thee to hell.  Urs. 
Mercy heavens!  (He falls.) Zis. 
Ho! Charon, more company, lie farther there jolt-head, what quarrelling you dogs? thy oar, thy oar ferryman: clap 'em o'th' sconce with't, there, there.  Val. 
The Gods are just.  Gon: 
You wore their cause upon your sword.  Cal: 
'Tis poor revenge this, can he not live again?  
Start up from th'earth with life, and double strength?  
Were't centupled I'd meet him:— but oh my eyes!  
Look here Valenzo: which is Prince, which subject,  
Which is my loved Ferrando? I see there is  
No ceremonious state, no pomp in death;  
They all lie level, all quiet, the bad as well  
As the good, why should this traitor here  
This devilish arch, arch-traitor lie as silent  
As his Lord? should he not stare, and foam,  
Start up and howl, till he wakes all the dead?  Val: 
Lady:  Gon: 
Her old passion returns again.  Cal. 
— Roar, and curse heavens,  
But they too have forgot to punish sinners,  
And reward virtue, here's an example on't;  
We were both virtuous, and deserved not this  
Bad usage; let me embrace thee:—  
Cold as the earth he lies on, and as dull too:  
Where is the soul, that busy flame that lent  
Him life and motion? affected such vain pomp  
And glorious noise: whither is't fled? poor liveless trunk,  
It was unkindly done to leave thee thus,  
A prey to worms and rottenness.  Zis. 
Are you there fury, Megaera, Tisiphone, Allecto,  
Howle, howl, furies, I'll lash you.  Cal. 
Kind death thouart welcome; I kiss thy dart.  Stabs Catantha, and dies. Gon. 
The Princess! she's slain, unlucky hand.  Cal: 
Spite of our stars, and all rude opposition,  
We are one in death: Valenzo see us interred,  
Both in one tomb, that we may mingle ashes  
And be securely lodged, you know our souls  
Were one; our hearts were long united.  Val. 
A FATAL UNION.  Cal: 
Draw, draw the curtains there, my love and I  
Must sleep;— uncivil I protest, put out the lights,  
We shall sleep best i'th' dark; pray don't disturb us,  
You may fright him from mine arms,— but— I'll— hold— him— fast.  (dies.) Val. 
The ruined treasure of two Kingdoms  
In one heap.  Enter Charintha, Piero, Violetta, Florinda, Alphonso. Char. 
In the bedchamber! this way!  Pier. 
Yes Lady, the cry was full of horror.  Viol: 
'Twas the physician's potion this my Lord.  Flor: 
Done in revenge.  Alph: 
Would 'thad been poison.  Char: 
Bless me! whence all these tragedies.  Pier: 
Astonishment seizes me.  Alph. 
The King:  Calantha: 
Ursini dead. ha! whom have we here, Frederico,  Val. 
Yes, and Felicia too.  Omnes. 
All slain; by what dire hand?  Val: 
I'll tell you that within.—  
Charintha is your Queen.  Pier: 
May you be happy in her love.  Val: 
Remove the bodies, i'th' morning we will take order for the state, and funeral rites.  

Of these; the lasting story of whose wrongs  
Shall be all royal lover's evening songs.      

EPILOGUE.  
AFter these ruins, thus your Poet stands,  
Expecting his own destiny from your hands,  
By them he lives or dies; if it should hap  
That stead of a mild doom, applause or clap.  
(Your trivial allowance) his listening ears  
Meet with harsh whispers, or half stifled jeers,  
Such unkind censure kills him; his sad Muse  
unless you give her bay, has vowed to use  
The Cypress wreathes, her piety did allow  
Those only to encircle her own brow:  
Your candid acceptation will be  
New life and soul to his lost Poesy;  
His flame's but sickly yet, your breath no doubt  
Will either blow't up higher, or quite out.  
FINIS.