THE VIRGIN martyr, A tragedy, AS IT HATH been DIVERS times publicly Acted with great Applause, By the Servants of his Majesty's Revels.  
Written by Philip Messenger and Thomas Deker.  
LONDON, Printed by B, A. for Thomas jones. 1622.   

The Actors names.  
Dioclesian Emperors of Rome. Maximinus, 

A King of Pontus.  
A King of Epire.  
A King of Macedon.  
Sapritius, Governor of Caesaria.  
Theophilus, a zealous persecutor of the Christians.  
Sempronius, Captain of Sapritius Guards.  
Antoninus, son to Sapritius.  
Macrinus, friend to Antoninus.  
Harpax an evil spirit, following Theophilus in the shape of a Secretary.  
Artemia, daughter to Dioclesian.   Caliste Daughters to Theophilus. Christeta. 

Dorothea, The Virgin Martyr.  
Angelo, a good spirit, serving Darothea in the habit of a Page.  
A British Slave.   Hercius, a Whoremaster. servants to Darothea. Spungius, a Drunkard.  

A Priest to jupiter.  
Officers and Executioners.    

THE VIRGIN martyr.  

Actus primus. Scene I.  Enter Theophilus, Harpax. Theoph. 
COme to Casarea tonight?  Harpax. 
Most true Sir,  Theoph. 
The Emperor in person?  Harpax. 
Do I hue.  Theo. 
'tis wondrous strange, the marches of great Princes  
Like to the motions of prodigious Meteors.  
Are step, by step observed, and loud tongued Fame  
The harbinger to prepare their entertainment:  
And were it possible, so great an army,  
Though covered with the night, could be so near:  
The Governor cannot be so unfriended  
Among the many that attend his person,  
But by some secret means he should have notice  
Of Caesar's purpose in this, then excuse me  
If I appear incredulous.  Harpax. 
At your pleasure.  Theop. 
Yet when I call to mind you never failed me  
In things more difficult, but have discovered  
Deeds that were done thousand leagues distant from me,  
When neither woods, nor caves, not secret vaults,  
No nor the power they serve, could keep these Christians,  
Or from my reach or punishment, but thy magic  
Still laid them open: I begin again  
To be as confident as heretofore.  
It is not possible thy powerful art  
Should meet a check, or fail.  Enter a Priest with the image of jupiter; Caliste, Christata. Harp. 
Look on these vestals,  
The holy pledges that the gods have given you,  
Your chaste fair daughters. Were't not to upbraid  
A service to a master not unthankful,  
I could say this in spite of your prevention,  
Seduced by an imagined faith, not reason,  
(Which is the strength of Nature) quite forsaking  
The Gentile gods, had yielded up themselves  
To this new found religion. This I crossed,  
Discovered their intentions, taught you to use  
With gentle words and mild persuasions,  
The power, and the authority of a father  
Set of with cruel threats and so reclaimed 'em,  
And whereas they with torments should have died,  
(hell's furies to me had they undergone it) aside  
They are now votaries in great Jupiter's temple,  
And by his Priest instructed, grown familiar  
With all the Mysteries, nay the most abstruse ones  
Belonging to his deity.  Theoph. 
'twas a benefit  
For which I ever owe you, Hail jove's Flamen,  
Have these my daughters reconciled themselves  
(Abandoning for ever the Christian way)  
To your opinion.  Priest. 
And are constant in it,  
They teach their teachers with their depth of judgement,  
And are with arguments able to convert  
The enemies to our gods and answer all  
They can object against us.  Theoph. 
My dear daughters.  Caliste. 
We dare dispute against this new sprung sect  
In private or public.  Harpax. 
My best Lady.  
Persever in it.  Christeta. 
And what we maintain  
We will seal with our bloods.  Harpax. 
Brave resolution.  
I e'en grow fat to see my labours prosper.  Theoph. 
I young again to your devotions.  Harpax. 
Do.  
My prayers be present with you.  exeunt Priest and daughters Theoph. 
Oh my Harpax.  
Thou engine of my wishes, thou that steeledst  
My bloody resolutions, thou that armest  
My eyes 'gainst womanish tears and soft compassion.  
Instructing me without a sigh to look on  
Babes torn by violence from their mother's breasts  
To feed the fire, and with them make one flame:  
Old men as beasts, in beasts skins torn by dogs:  
Virgins and matrons tire the executioners,  
Yet I unsatisfied think their torments easy.  Harpax. 
And in that just, not cruel.  Theoph. 
Wear all sceptres  
That grace the hands of kings made into one,  
And offered me, all crowns laid at my feet,  
I would contemn them all, thus spit at them.  
So I to all posterities might be called  
The strongest champion of the Pagan gods  
And rooter out of Christians.  Harpax. 
Oh mine own,  
Mine own dear Lord, to further this great work  
I ever live thy slave.  Enter Saprinus and Sempronius. Theoph. 
No more the Governor.  Sapr. 
Keep the ports close, and let the guards be doubled  
Disarm the Christians, call it death in any  
To wear a sword, or in his house to have one.  Semp. 
I shall be careful Sir,  Sap. 
It will well become you.  
Such as refuse to offer sacrifice  
To any of our gods, put to the torture.  
Grub up this growing mischief by the roots,  
And know when we are merciful to them,  
We to ourselves are cruel.  Semp. 
You pour oil  
On fire that burns already at the height,  
I know the emperor's Edict and my charge,  
And they shall find no favour.  Theoph. 
My good Lord,  
This care is timely, for the entertainment  
Of our great master, who this night in person  
Comes here to thank you.  Sapritius. 
Who the Emperor?  Har. 
To clear your doubts, he does return in triumph,  
Kings lackeying by his triumphant Chariot,  
And in this glorious victory my Lord,  
You have an ample share: for know your son,  
The near enough commended Antoninus,  
So well hath fleshed his maiden sword, and died  
His snowy plumes so deep in enemy's blood,  
That besides public grace, beyond his hopes  
There are rewards propounded.  Sap. 
I would know  
No mean in thine could this be true.  Harpax. 
My head answer the forfeit.  Sapritius. 
Of his victory  
There was some rumor, but it was assured  
The army passed a full day's journey higher  
Into the country.  Harpax. 
It was so determined,  
But for the further honour of your son,  
And to observe the government of the city,  
And with what rigor, or remiss indulgence  
The Christians are pursued he makes his stay here.  
For proof his trumpets speak his near arrival. Trumpets afar of.  Sap. 
Haste good Sempronius, draw up our guards,  
And with all ceremonious pomp receive  
The conquering army. Let our garrison speak  
Their welcome in loud shouts, the city show  
Her state and wealth.  Sempr. 
I am gone.  exit Sempronius Sapr. 
O I am ravished  
With this great honour, cherish good Theophilus  
This knowing scholar, send your fair daughters  
I will present them to the Emperor,  
And in their sweet conversion, as a mirror  
Express your zeal and duty. a lesson of Cornets.  Theoph. 
Fetch them good Harpax.  A guard brought in by Sempronius, soldiers leading in three kings bound, Antoninus and Macrinus carrying the Emperor's eagles, Dioclesian with a guilt laurel on his head, loading in Artemia, Sapritius kisses the Emperor's hand, then embraces his son, Harpax brings in Caliste and Christeta, loud shouts. Diocle. 
So at all parts I find Caesarea  
Completely governed, the licentious soldier  
Confined in modest limits, and the people  
Taught to obey, and not compelled with rigor;  
The ancient Roman discipline revived,  
(Which raised Room to her greatness, and proclaimed her  
The glorious mistress of the conquered world)  
But above all the service of the gods  
So zealously observed, that (good Sapritius)  
In words to thank you for your care and duty  
Were much unworthy Dioclesian's honour  
Or his magnificence to his loyal servants.  
But I shall find a time with noble titles  
To recompense your merits.  Sapr. 
Mightiest Caesar  
Whose power upon this globe of earth, is equal  
To loves in heaven, whose victorious triumphs  
On proud rebellious Kings that stir against it  
Are perfect figures of his immortal trophies  
Won in the giants war, whose conquering sword  
Guided by his strong arm, as deadly kills  
As did his thunder, all that I have done,  
Or if my strength were centupled could do,  
Comes short of what my loyalty must challenge.  
But if in any thing I have deserved  
Great Caesar's smile, 'tis in my humble care  
Still to preserve the honour of those gods,  
That make him what he is: my zeal to them  
I ever have expressed in my fell hate  
Against the Christian sect, that with one blow  
Ascribing all things to an unknown power,  
Would strike down all their temples, and allows them  
Nor sacrifice nor altars.  Diocle. 
Thou in this  
Walkest hand in hand with me, my will and power  
Shall not alone confirm, but honour all  
That are in this most forward.  Sap. 
Sacred Caesar;  
If your imperial Majesty stand pleased  
To shower your favours upon such as are  
The boldest champions of our religion,  
Look on this reverend man, to whom the power  
Of searching out, and punishing such delinquents,  
Was by your choice committed, and for proof  
He hath deserved the grace imposed upon him,  
And with a fair and even hand proceeded  
Partial to none, not to himself, or those  
Of equal nearness to himself, behold  
This pair of Virgins.  Diocle 
What are these?  Sapr. 
His daughters.  Arte. 
Now by your sacred fortune they are fair ones,  
Exceeding fair ones, would 'twere in my power  
To make them mine.  Theo. 
They are the gods, great Lady,  
They were most happy in your service else,  
On these when they fell from their father's faith  
I used a judge's power, entreaties failing  
(They being seduced) to win them to adore  
The holy powers we worship, I put on  
The scarlet robe of bold authority,  
And as they had been strangers to my blood,  
Presented them in the most horrid forms  
All kind of tortures, part of which they suffered  
With Roman constancy.  Arte. 
And could you endure  
Being a father, to behold their limbs  
Extended on the rack?  Theo. 
I did, but must  
Confess there was a strange contention in me,  
Between the impartial office of a judge,  
And pity of a father, to help justice  
Religion stepped in, under which odds  
Compassion fell: yet still I was a father,  
For even then, when the flinty hangman's whips  
Were worn with stripes spent on their tender limbs,  
I kneeled, and wept, and begged them though they would  
Be cruel to themselves, they would take pity  
On my grey hairs. Now note a sudden change,  
Which I with joy remember, those whom torture  
Nor fear of death could terrify, were o'ercome  
By seeing of my sufferings, and so won,  
Returning to the faith that they were borne in,  
I gave them to the gods, and be assured  
I that used justice with a rigorous hand  
Upon such beauteous virgins, and mine own,  
Will use no favour where the cause commands me  
To any other, but as rocks be deaf  
To all intreaties.  Diocle. 
Thou deserv'st thy place,  
Still hold it and with honour, things thus ordered  
Touching the gods 'tis lawful to descend  
To human cares, and exercise that power  
Heaven has conferred upon me, which that you  
Rebels and traitors to the power of Rome  
Should not with all extremities undergo,  
What can you urge to qualify your crimes  
Or mitigate my anger?  Epire. 
We are now  
Slaves to thy power, that yesterday were kings,  
And had command o'er others, we confess  
Our grandsires paid yours tribute, yet left us  
As their forefathers had desire of freedom.  
And if you Romans hold it glorious honour  
Not only to defend what is your own,  
But to enlarge your Empire, (though our fortune  
Denies that happiness) who can accuse  
The famished mouth if it attempt to feed,  
Or such whose fetters eat into their freedoms,  
If they desire to shake them off.  Pontus. 
We stand  
The last examples to prove how uncertain  
All humane happiness is, and are prepared  
To endure the worst.  Macedon. 
That spoke which now is highest  
In Fortune's wheel, must when she turns it next  
Decline as low as we are. This considered  
Taught the Egyptian Hercules Sesostris  
(That had his chariot drawn by captive kings)  
To free them from that slavery, but to hope  
Such mercy from a Roman, were mere madness.  
We are familiar with what cruelty  
Room since her infant greatness, ever used  
Such as she triumphed over, age nor sex  
Exempted from her tyranny: sceptred Princes  
Kept in your common dungeons, and their children!  
In scorn trained up in base Mechanic arts  
For public bondmen; in the catalogue  
Of those unfortunate men, we expect to have  
Our names remembered.  Diocle. 
In all growing Empires  
e'en cruelty is useful, some must suffer  
And be set up examples to strike terror  
In others though far off but when a State  
Is raised to her perfection, and her Bases  
Too firm, to shrink, or yield, we may use mercy  
And do't with safety, but to whom? not cowards?  
Or such whose baseness shames the conqueror,  
And robs him of his victory, as weak Perseus  
Did great AEmilius. Know therefore kings  
Of Epire, Pontus, and of Macedon,  
That I with courtesy can use my prisoners  
As well as make them mine by force, provided  
That they are noble enemies: such I found you  
Before I made you mine, and since you were so,  
You have not lost the courages of Princes,  
Although the Fortune: had you borne yourselves  
dejectedly, and base, no slavery  
Had been too easy for you, but such is  
The power of noble valour, that we love it  
e'en in our enemies, and taken with it,  
Desire to make them friends, as I will you.  Epire. 
Mock us not Caesar.  Diocle. 
By the Gods I do not.  
Unloose their bonds, I now as friends embrace you,  
Give them their Crowns again.  Pon. 
We are twice overcome,  
By courage and by courtesy.  Mace. 
But this latter,  
Shall teach us to live ever faithful Vassals,  
To Dioclesian and the power of Rome.  Epire. 
All Kingdoms fall before her.  Pon. 
And all Kings  
Contend to honour Cesar.  Diocle. 
I believe  
Your tongues are the true Trumpets of your hearts,  
And in it I most happy Queen of fate,  
Imperious Fortune mix some light disaster  
With my so many joys to season 'em,  
And give them sweeter relish, I am girt round  
With true felicity, faithful subjects here,  
Here bold Commanders, here with new made friends.  
But what's the crown of all in thee Artemia,  
My only child whose love to me and duty  
Strive to exceed each other,  Ar. 
I make payment  
But of a debt which I stand bound to tender  
As a daughter, and a subject.  Diocle. 
Which requires yet  
A retribution from me Artemia  
tied by a father's care how to bestow  
Aye well of all things to me most precious.  
Nor will I therefore longer keep thee from  
The chief joys of creation, marriage rites,  
Which that thou mayst with greater pleasure taste of,  
Thou shalt not like with mine eyes but thine own  
Amongst these kings forgetting they were captives,  
Or these remembering not they are my subjects,  
Make choice of any, by jove's dreadful thunder,  
My will shall rank with thine.  Arte. 
It is a bounty  
The daughters of great Princes seldom meet with.  
For they, to make up breaches in the state,  
Or for some other politic ends are forced  
To match where they affect not, may my life  
Deserve this favour.  Diocle. 
Speak, I long to know  
The man thou wilt make happy.  Artem. 
If that titles  
Or the adored name of Queen could take me,  
Here would I fix mine eyes and look no farther.  
But these are baits to take a mean borne Lady,  
neither that boldly may call Caesar father.  
In that I can bring honour unto any  
But from no king that lives receives addition  
To raise desert and virtue by my fortune,  
Though in a low estate were greater glory,  
Than to mix greatness with a Prince that owes  
No worth but that name only.  Diocle 
I commend thee,  
'tis like thyself.  Artem. 
If then of men beneath me  
My choice is to be made, where shall I seek  
But among those that best deserve from you,  
That have served you most faithfully, that in dangers  
Have stood next to you, that have interposed  
Their breasts as shields of proof to dull the swords  
aimed at your bosom, that have spent their blood  
To crown your brows with Laurel.  Macrinus. 
Cytherea  
Great Queen of love be now propitious to me.  Harpax. 
Now mark what I foretold.  Anton. 
Her eyes on me,  
Fair Venus' son draw forth a leaden dart,  
And that she may hate me, transfix her with it,  
Or if thou needs wilt use a golden one,  
Shoot in the behalf of any other,  
Thou know'st I am thy votary else where.  Artem. 
Sir.  Theoph. 
How he blushes!  Sap. 
Welcome, fool, thy fortune,  
Stand like a block when such an Angel courts thee.  Artem. 
I am no object to divert your eye  
From the beholding.  Anton. 
Rather a bright Sun  
Too glorious for him to gaze upon  
That took not first flight from the Eagle's eyrie.  
As I look on the temples, or the gods,  
And with that reverence Lady I behold you,  
And shall do ever.  Arte. 
And it will become you,  
While thus we stand at distance, but if love  
(Love borne out of th'assurance of your virtues)  
Teach me to stoop so low.  Anton. 
O rather take  
A higher flight.  Artem. 
Why fear you to be raised?  
Say I put off the dreadful a we that waits  
On Majesty, or with you share my beams,  
Nay make you to outshine me change the name  
Of subject into Lord, rob you of service  
That's due from you to me, and in me make it  
Duty to honour you, would you refuse me?  Anton. 
Refuse you Madam, such a worm as I am,  
Refuse, what kings upon their knees would sue for?  
Call it, great Lady, by another name,  
An humble modesty that would not match  
A Molehill with Olimpus.  Artem. 
He that's famous  
For honourable actions in the war;  
As you are Antoninus, a proved soldier  
Is fellow to a king.  Anton. 
If you love valour,  
As 'tis a kingly virtue, seek it out,  
And cherish it in a king, there it shines brightest,  
And yields the bravest lustre. Look on Epire,  
A Prince, in whom it is incorporate,  
And let it not disgrace him, that he was  
o'ercome by Caesar, (it was a victory  
To stand so long against him,) had you seen him,  
How in one bloody seen he did discharge  
The parts of a Commander, and a soldier,  
Wise in direction, bold in execution;  
You would have said, great Caesar's self excepted,  
The world yields not his equal.  Artem. 
Yet I have heard,  
Encountering him alone in the head of his troop,  
You took him prisoner.  Epire. 
'tis a truth great Princess.  
I'll not detract from valour.  Anton. 
'twas mere fortune,  
Courage had no hand in it.  Theoph. 
Did ever man  
Strive so against his own good.  Sap. 
Spiritless villain,  
How I am tortured, by the immortal gods  
I now could kill him.  Diocl. 
Hold Sapritius hold,  
On our displeasure hold.  Harpax. 
Why, this would make  
A father mad, 'tis not to be endured,  
Your honours tainted in it.  Sapr. 
By heaven it is,  
I shall think of't.  Harpax. 
'tis not to be forgotten.  Art. 
Nay kneel not Sir, I am no ravisher,  
Nor so far gone in fond affection to you,  
But that I can retire my honour safe.  
Yet say hereafter that thou hast neglected  
What but seen in possession of another  
Will run thee mad with envy.  Anton. 
In her looks  
Revenge is written.  Mac. 
As you love your life study t'appease her.  An. 
Gracious madame hear me.  Artem. 
And be again refused?  Anton. 
The tender of  
My life, my service, not since you vouchsafe it,  
My love, my heart, my all, and pardon me:  
Pardon dread Princess that I made some scruple  
To leave a valley of security  
To mount up to the hill of Majesty,  
On which the nearer jove the nearer lightning.  
What knew I but your grace made trial of me?  
Durst I presume to embrace, where but to touch  
With an unmannered hand was death? the Fox  
When he saw first the forest's king, the Lion  
Was almost dread with fear, the second view  
Only a little daunted him, the third  
He durst salute him boldly: pray you apply this,  
And you shall find a little time will teach me  
To look with more familiar eyes upon you  
Then duty yet allows me.  Sap. 
Well excused.  Artem. 
You may redeem all yet.  Diocl. 
And that he may  
Have means and opportunity to do so,  
Artemia I leave you my substitute  
In fair Caesarea.  Sap. 
And here as yourself  
We will obey and serve her.  Diocl. 
Antoninus  
So you prove hers I wish no other heir,  
Think on't, be careful of your charge Theophilus,  
Sapritius be you my daughter's guardian.  
Your company I wish confederate Princes  
In our Dismatian wars, which finished  
With victory I hope, and Maximinus  
Our brother and copartner in the Empire  
At my request won to confirm as much,  
The kingdoms I took from you we'll restore,  
And make you greater than you were before.  Exeunt omnes, manent Antoninus & Macrinus. Antoninus, Macrinus. Anton. 
Oh I am lost for ever, lost Macrinus,  
The anchor of the wretched, hope for sakes me,  
And with one blast of fortune all my light  
Of happiness is put out.  Macr. 
You are like to those  
That are ill only, 'cause they are too well,  
That surfeiting in the excess of blessings  
Call their abundance want: what could you wish,  
That is not fall'n upon you? honour, greatness,  
Respect, wealth, favour, the whole world for a dowry,  
And with a Princess, whose excelling form  
exceeds her fortune.  Anton. 
Yet poison still is poison  
Though drunk in gold, and all these flattering glories  
To me, ready to starve, a painted banquet  
And no essential food: when I am scorched  
With fire, can flames in any other quench me?  
What is her love to me, greatness, or Empire,  
That am slave to another, who alone  
Can give me ease or freedom?  Macr. 
Sir you point at  
Your dotage on the scornful Dorothea,  
Is she though fair the same day to be named  
With best Artemia? in all their courses  
Wisemen propose their ends: with sweet Artemia  
There comes along pleasure, security,  
Ushered by all that in this life is precious:  
With Dorothea, though her birth be noble,  
The Daughter to a Senator of Rome,  
By him lest rich (yet with a private wealth  
And far inferior to yours) arrives  
The emperor's frown (which like a mortal plague  
Speaks death is near) the Princess heavy scorn,  
Under which you will shrink, your father's fury,  
Which to resist even piety forbids,  
And but remember that she stands suspected  
A favourer of the Christian Sect, she brings  
Not danger but assured destruction with her:  
This truly weighed, one smile of great Artemia  
Is to be cherished and preferred before  
All joys in Dorothea, therefore leave her.  An. 
In what thou think'st thou art most wise, thou art  
Grossly abused Macrinus, and most foolish.  
For any man to match above his rank,  
Is but to sell his liberty; with Artemia  
I still must live a servant, but enjoying  
Divinest Dorothea, I shall rule,  
Rule as becomes a husband's for the dangers,  
Or call it if you will assured destruction,  
I sleight it thus. If then thou art my friend,  
As I dares wear thou art, and wilt not take  
A governor's place upon thee, be my helper.  Macri. 
You know I dare and will do any thing.  
Put me unto the test.  Anton. 
Go then Macrinus  
To Dorothea, tell her I have worn,  
In all the battles I have fought her figure,  
Her figure in my heart, which like a deity  
Hath still protected me, thou canst speak well,  
And of thy choicest language, spare a little  
To make her understand how much I love her,  
And how I languish for her, bear her these jewels  
Sent in the way of sacrifice, not service,  
As to my goddess. All let's thrown behind me,  
Or fears that may deter me: say this morning  
I mean to visit her by the name of friendship,  
No words to contradict this.  Macrinus. 
I am yours,  
And if my travel this way be ill spent,  
judge not, my reader will, by the event.  exeunt 
Finis actus primus.   

Actus 2. Scenus 1.  Enter Spungins and Hercius. Spun. 
Turn Christian, would he that first tempted me to have my shoes walk upon Christian soles, had turned me into a Capon, for I am sure now the stones of all my pleasure in this fleshly life are cut off.  Hir. 
So then, if any coxcomb has a galloping desire to ride, here's a Gelding, if he can but sit him.  Spun. 
I kick for all that like a horse, look else.  Hir. 
But that's a kickish jade, fellow Spungins, have not I as much cause to complain as thou hast? When I was a Pagan, there was an Infidel Punk of mine, would have let me come upon trust for my curveting, a pox of your christian cockatrices, they cry like poulterer's wives, no money, no coney.  Spun. 
Bacchus, the God of brewed Wine and Sugar, grand Patron of rob pots, upsy-freezy-tipplers, and super-naculam takers; this Bacchus, who is head warden of vintner's Hall, ale-cionner, Maior of all Victualling houses, the sole liquid Benefactor to bawdy-houses, Lanze prezado to red Noses, and invincible Adelantado over the Armado of pimpled, deep scarleted, rubified, and carbuncled faces.  Her. 
What of all this?  Spun. 
This boon bacchanalian stinker, did I make legs to.  Hirc. 
Scurvy ones, when thou wert drunk.  Spung. 
There is no danger of losing a man years by making these Endures, he that will not now and then be Calabingo, is worse than a Calamosthe: when I was a Pagan and kneeled to this Bacchus, I durst outdrink a Lord, but your Christian Lords out-bowl me: I was in hope to lead a sober life, when I was converted, but now amongst the Christians, I can no sooner stagger out of one alehouse but I reel into another: they have whole streets of nothing but drinking rooms, and drabbing chambers, jumbled together.  Hirc. 
Bawdy Priapus, the first schoolmaster that taught Butchers how to stick pricks in flesh, and make it swell, thou knowest was the only Ningle that I cared for under the Moon, but since I left him, to follow a scurvy Lady, what with her praying and our fasting, if now I come to a wench & offer to use her any thing hardly (celling her being a Christian she must endure) she presently handles me as if I were a clove, & cleaves me with disdain as if I were a calf's head.  Spung. 
I see no remedy fellow Hircius, but that thou and I must be half Pagans and half Christians, for we know very fools that are Christians.  Hirc. 
Right, the quarters of Christians are good for not thing but to feed Crows.  Spung. 
True, Christian Brokers, thou knowest, are made up of the quarters of Christians, parboil one of these rogues and he is not meat for a dog: no, no, I am resolved to have an infidel's heart, though in show I carry a Christian's face.  Hir. 
Thy Last shall serve my foot, so will I.  Spun. 
Our whimpering Lady and Mistress sent me with two great baskets full of Beef, Mutton, veal and Goose fellow Hircius.  Hir. 
And Woodcock fellow Spungins.  Spung. 
Upon the poor lean Ass fellow, on which I ride, to all the Almswomen: what thinkst thou I hue done with all this good cheer.  Hir. 
Eat it, and be choked else.  Spun. 
Would my Ass, basket and all were in thy maw if I did: no, as I am a demi Pagan, I sold the victuals, and coined the money into pottle pots of wine.  Hir. 
Therein thou show'dst thyself a perfect demy-Christian too, to let the poor beg, starve and hang, or die o' the pip: our puling snotty-nose Lady sent me out likewise with a purse of money, to relieve and release prisoners: did I so think you?  Spun. 
Would thy ribs were turned into grates of iron then.  Hir. 
As I am a total Pagan, I swore they should be hanged first: for sirrah Spungius, I lay at my old ward of lechery, and cried a pox in your twopenny wards, and so I took scurvy common flesh for the money.  Spun. 
And wisely done, for our Lady sending it to prisoners, had bestowed it out upon lousy knaves, and thou to save that labour casts it away upon rotten whores.  Hir. 
All my fear is of that pinkany jack-an ape's boy, her page.  Spnn. 
As I am a Pagan, from my codpiece downward that white-faced Monkey, frights me to, I stole but a dirty pudding last day out of an almsbasket, to give my dog when he was hungry, and the peaking chitface page hit me i'th' teeth with it.  Hir. 
With the dirty pudding; so he did me once with a cow-turd, which in knavery I would have crumbed into ones porridge, who was half a Pagan to: the smug dandiprat smells us out whatsoever we are doing.  Spun. 
Does he! let him take heed I prove not his back friend; He make him curse his smelling what I do.  Hir. 
'tis my Lady spoils the boy, for he is ever at her tail: and she's never well but in his company.  Enter Angelo with a Book and Taper lighted, they seeing him, counterfeit devotion. Ange. 
O! now your hearts make ladders of your eyes  
In show to climb to heaven, when your devotion  
Walks upon crutches: where did you waste your time  
When the religious man was on his knees,  
Speaking the heavenly language.  Spun. 
Why fellow Angelo, we were speaking in pedlars  
French I hope.  Hir. 
We ha' not been idle, take it upon my word.  Ange. 
Have you the baskets emptied which your Lady  
Sent from the charitable hands, to women  
That dwell upon her pity?  Spun. 
Emptied 'em! yes, I'd be loath to have my belly so empty, yet I'm sure, I munched not one bit of them neither.  Ange. 
And went your money to the prisoners.  Hir. 
Went no, I carried it; and with these fingers paid it away.  Ang. 
What way? the devil's way, the way of sin,  
The way of hot damnation, way of lust:  
And you to, wash away the poor man's bread  
In bowls of drunkenness.  Spun. 
Drunkenness! yes, yes, I use to be drunk: our next neighbour's man called Christopher has often seen me drunk, has he not?  Hir. 
Or me given so to the flesh, my cheeks speak my doings.  Ange. 
avaunt you thieves, and hollow hypocrites.  
Your hearts to me lie open like black books,  
And there I read your doings.  Spun. 
And what do you read in my heart?  Hir. 
Or in mine? come amiable. Angelo, beat the flint of your brains.  Spun. 
And let's see what sparks of wit fly out, to kindle your Carebruns.  Ang. 
Your names even brand you, you are Spurgius called  
And like a Sponge you suck up liquorous wines  
Till your soul reels to hell.  Spun. 
To hell! can any drunkards legs carry him so far.  Ang. 
For blood of grapes you sold the widow's food.  
And starving them, 'tis murder, what's this but hell.  
Hircius your name, and Goatish is your nature:  
You snatch the meat out of the prisoner's mouth,  
To fatten harlots, is not this hell to,  
No Angel, but the devil waits on you.  Spun 
Shall I cut his throat.  Hir. 
No, better burn him, for I think he is a witch, but soothe, soothe him.  Spun. 
Fellow Angelo, true it is, that falling into the company of wicked he-Christians for my part.  Hir. 
And she-ones for mine, we have 'em swim in shoals hard by.  Spun. 
We must confess, I took too much of the pot, and he of tother hollow commodity.  Hir. 
Yes indeed, we laid lil on both of us, we cozened the poor, but 'tis a common thing, many a one that counts himself a better Christian then we two, has done it, by this light.  Spun. 
But pray sweet Angelo, play not the tell-tale to my Lady, and if you take us creeping into any of these mouseholes of sin any more, let Cats flay off our skins.  Hir. 
And put nothing but the poisoned tails of Rats into those skins.  An. 
Will you dishonour her sweet charity.  
Who saved you from the tree of death and shame.  Hir. 
Would I were hanged rather than thus be told of my faults.  Spun. 
She took us, 'tis true, from the gallows, yet I hope she will not bar yeomen sprats to have their swinge.  An. 
She comes, beware and mend.  enter Doro. Hir. 
Let's break his neck, and bid him mend.  Dor. 
Have you my messages (sent to the poor)  
Delivered with good hands, not robbing them  
Of any jot was theirs.  Spun. 
Rob 'em Lady, I hope, neither my fellow nor I am thieves  Hir. 
Delivered with good hands madam, else let me never lick my fingers more when I eat buttered fish.  Dor. 
Who cheat the poor, and from them pluck their alms.  
Pilfer from Heaven, and there are thunderbolts  
From thence to beat them ever, do not lie,  
Were you both faithful true distributers?  Spun. 
Lie madam, what grief is it to see you turn  
Swaggerer, and give your poor minded rascally servants the lie.  Dor. 
I'm glad you do not, if those wretched people  
Tell you they pine for want of any thing.  
Whisper but to mine ear, and you shall furnish them.  Hir. 
Whisper, nay Lady, for my part I'll cry whoop.  Ang. 
Play no more Villains with so good a Lady,  
For if you do———.  Spun. 
Are we Christians?  Hir. 
The foul Fiend snap all Pagans for me.  Ang. 
Away, and once more mend.  Spun. 
Takes us for Butchers.  Hir. 
A patch, a patch.  Dor. 
My book and Taper.  Ang. 
Here most holy Mistress.  Dor. 
Thy voice sends forth such music, that I never  
Was ravished with a more celestial sound,  
Were every servant in the world like thee,  
So full of goodness, Angels would come down  
To dwell with us, thy name is Angelo,  
And like that name thou art, get thee to rest,  
Thy youth with too much watching is oppressed.  Ang. 
No my dear Lady, I could weary stars,  
And force the wakeful Moon to lose her eyes  
By my late watching, but to wait on you,  
When at your prayers you kneel before the Altar,  
methinks I'm singing with some Choir in Heaven,  
So blessed I hold me in your company:  
Therefore my most-loved mistress do not bid  
Your boy so serviceable to get hence,  
For then you break his heart.  Dor. 
be nigh me still then,  
In golden letters down i'll set that day  
Which gave thee to me, little did I hope  
To meet such worlds of comfort in thyself,  
This little pretty body, when I coming  
Forth of the temple, heard my beggar-boy,  
My sweet faced godly beggar-boy, crave an alms,  
Which with glad hand I gave, with lucky hand,  
And when I took thee home, my most chaste bosom  
methought was filled with no hot wanton fire,  
But with a holy flame, mounting since higher  
On wings of cherubins then did before.  Ang. 
Proud am I that my lady's modest eye,  
So likes so poor a servant.  Doro. 
I have offered  
Handfuls of gold but to behold thy Parents,  
I would leave Kingdoms, were I Queen of some,  
To dwell with thy good father, for the son  
Betwitching me so deeply with his presence,  
He that begot him must do't ten times more,  
I pray thee, my sweet boy, show me thy parents,  
Be not ashamed.  Ang. 
I am not, I did never  
Know who any mother was, but by yond Palace  
Filled with bright heavenly Courtiers, I dare assure you,  
And pawn these eyes upon it, and this hand,  
My father is in Heaven, and pretty Mistress,  
If your illustrious hour Glass spend his sand  
No worse than yet it does, upon my life  
You and I both shall meet my father there,  
And he shall bid you welcome.  Doro. 
A blessed day,  
We all long to be there, but lose the way.  exeunt. Macrinus friend to Antoninus enters, being met by Theophslus and Harpax. Theo. 
sun-god of the day guide thee Macrinus.  Mac. 
And thee Theophilus.  Theo. 
Gladst thou in such scorn,  
I call my wish back.  Mac. 
I'm in haste.  Theo. 
One word,  
Take the least hand of time up: stay.  Mac. 
Be brief.  Theo. 
As thought: I prithee tell me good Macrinus  
How health and our fair Princess lay together  
This night, for you can tell, Courtiers have flies  
That buzz all news unto them.  Mac. 
She slept but ill.  Theo. 
Double thy courtesy, how does Antoninus?  Mac. 
Ill, well, straight, crooked, I know not how.  Theo. 
Once more,  
Thy head is full of Windmills: when does the Princess  
Fill a bed full of beauty, and bestow it  
On Antoninus on the wedding night.  Mac. 
I know not.  Theo. 
No, thou art the manuscript  
Where Antoninus writes down all his secrets,  
Honest Macrinus tell me.  Mac. 
Fare you well Sir.  exit Har. 
Honesty is some Fiend, and frights him hence,  
A many Courtiers love it not.  Theo. 
What piece  
Of this State-wheel (which winds up Antoninus)  
Is broke, it runs so jarringly? the  
Man is from himself divided: Oh thou the eye  
By which I wonders see, tell me my Harpax,  
What gad fly tickles so this Macrinus,  
That up. flinging thy tail, he breaks thus from me,  Har. 
Oh Sir, his brainpan is a bed of Snakes,  
Whose stings shoot through his eyeballs, whose poisonous spawn  
Engenders such a fry of speckled villainies,  
That valesse charms more strong than Adamant  
be used, the Roman Angels wings shall melt,  
And Caesar's Diadem be from his head  
Spurned by base foot, the Laurel which he wears  
(Returning victor) be enforced to kiss  
That which it hates (the fire.) And can this Ram,  
This Antoninus-Engine, being made ready  
To so much mischief, keep a steady motion,  
His eyes and feet you see give strange assaults.  The. 
I'm turned a marble Statue at thy language,  
Which printed is in such crabbed Characters,  
It puzzles all my reading, what (i'th' name  
Of Pluto) now is hatching.  Har. 
This Macrinus  
The time is, upon which love errands run  
Twixt Antoninus and that ghost of women,  
The bloodless Dorothea, who in prayer  
And meditation (mocking all your gods)  
Drinks up her ruby colour, yet Antoninus  
Plays the Endymion to this pale faced Moon,  
Courts her, seeks to catch her eyes.  Theo. 
And what of this?  Har. 
These are but creeping Billows  
Not got to shore yet, but if Dorothea  
Fall on his bosom, and be fired with love,  
(Your coldest women do so) had you ink  
Brewed from the infernal Styx, and not all that blackness  
Can make a thing so foul, as the Dishonours,  
Disgraces, Buffetings, and most base affronts  
Upon the bright Artemia, Star of Court,  
Great Caesar's Daughter.  Theo. 
I now construe thee.  Har. 
Nay more, a Firmament of Clouds being filled  
With jovet Artillery, shot down at once  
To pash your Gods in pieces, cannot give  
With all those thunderbolts so deep a blow  
To the Religion there, and Pagan lore  
As this; for Dorothea hates your gods,  
And if she once blast Antoninus' soul,  
Making it foul like hers: Oh the example—  Theo. 
Eats through Caesarea's heart, like liquid poison  
Have I invented tortures to tent Christians,  
To see but which, could all that sceles hell's torments  
Have leave to stand aloof here on earth's stage,  
They would be mad till they again descended,  
Holding the pains most horrid, of such souls,  
May-games to those of mine, has this my hand  
Set down a Christian's execution  
In such dire postures, that the very hangman  
Fell at my foot dead hearing but their figures,  
And shall Macrinus and his fellow Masquer  
Strangle me in a dance.  Har. 
No, on, I do hug thee,  
For drilling thy quick brains in this rich plot  
Of tortures 'gainst these Christians: on, I hug thee.  Theo. 
Both hug and holy me, to this Dorothea  
Fly thou and I in thunder.  Har. 
Not for Kingdoms  
Piled upon Kingdoms, there's a villain Page  
Waits on her, whom I would not for the world  
Hold traffic with, I do so hate his sight,  
That should I look on him I must sink down.  Theo. 
I will not lose thee then, her to confound,  
None but this head with glories shall be crowned.  Har. 
Oh, mine own as I would wish thee.  exeunt. Enter Dorothea, Macrinus, Angelo. Dor. 
My trusty Angelo, with that curious eye  
Of thine, which ever waits upon my business,  
I prithee watch those my still-negligent servants  
That they perform my willing what's enjoined them  
Toth' good of others, else will you find them flies  
Not lying still, yet in them no good lies:  
Be careful dear Boy.  Ang. 
Yes, my sweetest Mistress.  exit. Dor. 
Now Sir, you may go on.  Mac. 
I then must study,  
A new arithmetic, to sum up the virtues  
Which Antoninus gracefully become,  
There is in him so much man, so much goodness,  
So much of honour, and of all things else  
Which makes our being excellent, that from his store  
He can enough lend others, yet much taken from him,  
The want shall be as little as when Seas  
Lend from their bounty to fill up the poorness  
Of needy Rivers.  Dor. 
Sir, he is more indebted, to you for praise, than you to him that owes it.  Ma 
If Queens viewing his presents, paid to the whiteness  
Of your chaste hand alone, should be ambitious,  
But to be parted in their numerous shares,  
This he counts nothing: could you see main Armies  
Make battles in the quarrel of his valour,  
That 'tis best, the truest, this were nothing,  
The greatness of his State, his father's voice  
And arm, owing Caesarea, he never boasts of  
The sunbeams, which the Emperor throws upon him,  
Shine there but as in water, and guild him  
Not with one spot of pride, no dearest beauty,  
All these heaped up together in one scale,  
Cannot weigh down the love he bears to you  
Being put into the other.  Dor. 
Could gold buy you  
To speak thus for your friend, you Sir are worthy  
Of more than I will number, and this your language  
Hath power to win upon another woman,  
Top of whose heart, the feathers of this World  
Are gaily stuck, but all which first you named,  
And now this last, his love to me are nothing,  Mac. 
You make me a sad Messenger.  enter Antoninus. 
But himself  
Being come in person, shall I hope hear from you  
Music more pleasing.  Ant. 
Has your ear Macrinus  
Heard none then?  Mac. 
None I like.  Ant. 
But can there be  
In such a noble Casker, wherein lies  
Beauty and chastity in their full perfections,  
A rocky heart killing with cruelty  
A life that's prostrated beneath your feet?  Dor. 
I am guilty of a shame I yet never knew,  
Thus to hold parley with you, pray Sir pardon.  Ant. 
Good sweetness, you now have it, and shall go,  
Be but so merciful, before your wounding me  
With such a mortal weapon, as Farewell,  
To let me murmur to your Virgin care,  
What I was loath to lay on any tongue  
But this mine own.  Dor. 
If one immodest accent  
Fly out, I hate you everlastingly.  Ant. 
My true love dares not do it.  Mac. 
Hermes inspire thee.  They whispering below, enter above Sapritius, father to Antoninus, & Governor of Cesaria, with him Artemia the Princess, Theophilies, Spungius and Hercins. Spun. 
See you, do you see, our work is done, the fish you angle for is nibbling at the hook, and therefore untruss the Codpiece point of our reward, no matter if the breeches of conscience fall about our heels.  The. 
The gold you earn is here, dam up your mouths, and no words of it.  Her. 
No, nor no words from you of too much damning neither; I know women sell themselves daily, and are hackneyed out for silver, why may not we then betray a scurvy mistress for gold.  Spun. 
She saved us from the Gallows, and only to keep one Proverb from breaking his neck, we'll hang her.  The. 
'tis well done, go go, year my fine white boys.  Spun. 
If your red boys, 'tis well known, more ill-favoured faces then ours are painted.  Sap. 
Those fellows trouble us.  Theo. 
Away, away.  Her. 
I to my sweet placket.  Spun. 
And I to my full pot.  exeunt. Ant. 
Come, let me tune you, glaze not thus your eyes  
With self-love of a vowed Virginity,  
Make every man your glass, you see our Sex  
Do never murder propagation,  
We all desire your sweet society,  
And if you bar me from it, you do kill me,  
And of my blood are guilty.  Art. 
O base Villain.  Sap. 
Bridle your rage sweet Princess.  Ant. 
Could not my fortunes  
(Reared higher far than yours) be worthy of you,  
methinks my dear affection makes you mine.  Dor. 
Sir, for your fortunes were they mines of gold,  
He that I love is richer; and for worth,  
You are to him lower than any slave  
Is to a Monarch.  Sap. 
So insolent, base Christian.  Dor. 
Can I, with wearing out my knees before him  
Get you but be his servant, you shall boast you're equal to a King.  Sap. 
Confusion on thee,  
For playing thus the lying sorceress.  Ant. 
Your mocks are great ones, none beneath the Sun  
Will I be servant too: on my knees I beg it,  
Pity me wondrous maid.  Sap. 
I curse thy baseness.  Theo. 
Listen to more.  Dor. 
Oh kneel not Sir to me.  Ant. 
This Knee is Emblem of an humbled heart,  
That heart which tortured is with your disdain,  
justly for scorning others; even this heart,  
To which for pity such a Princess sues,  
As in her hand offers me all the World,  
Great Caesar's daughter.  Artem. 
Slave thou liest.  Anton. 
Yet this  
Is adamant to her, that melts to you  
In drops of blood.  Theoph. 
A Very dog.  Anton. 
Perhaps  
'tis my religion makes you knit the brow,  
Yet be you mine, and ever be your own,  
I ne'er will screw your conscience from that power  
On which you Christians lean.  Sap. 
I can no longer,  
Fret out my life with weeping at thee villain; sirrah,  
Would when I got thee, the high thunder hand  
Had struck thee in the womb.  Mac. 
We are betrayed.  Arte. 
Is that your I doll, traitor, which thou kneelst to,  
Trampling upon my beauty?  Theoph. 
Sirrah, bandog,  
Wilt thou in pieces tear, our jupiter,  
For her? our Mars, for her? our Sol, for her?  
A whore, a hellhound, in this globe of brains  
Where a whole world of tortures for such furies  
Have fought as in a Chaos) which should exceed,  
These nails shall grubbing lie, from scull to scull,  
To find one horrider, than all, for you,  
You three.  Artem. 
Threaten not, but strike, quick vengeance flies  
Into thy bosom, caitiff: here all loves dies.  exeunt. An. 
O I am thunder-struck!  
we are both over whelmed.  Mac. 
With one high raging billow.  Doro. 
You a soldier,  
And sink beneath the violence of a woman?  An. 
A woman! a wronged Princess: from such a star  
Blazing with fires of hate, what can be looked for  
But tragical events? my life is now  
The subject of her tyranny.  Doro. 
That fear, is base,  
Of death, when that death doth but life displace  
Out of her house of earth; you only dread  
The stroke, and not what follows when you are dead,  
There's the great fear indeed: come, let your eye,  
Dwell where mine do, you'll scorn their tyrannies.  Enter below, Artemia, Sapritius, Theophilus a guard. Angelo comes and is close by Dorothea. Artem. 
My father's nerves put vigour in mine arm,  
And I his strength must use; because I once  
Shed beams of favour on thee, and with the Lion  
Played with thee gently when thou struckst my heart,  
He not insult on a base humbled prey,  
By lingering out thy terrors, but with one frown  
Kill thee: hence with 'em to execution.  
Seize him, but let even death itself be weary  
In torturing her: He change those smiles to shrieks,  
Give the fool what she is proud of (martyrdom)  
In pieces rack that Bawd to:  Sap. 
Albeit the reverence  
I owe our gods and you, are in my bosom  
Torrents so strong, that pity quite lies drowned  
From saving this young man, yet when I see  
What face death gives him, and that a thing within me,  
Says 'tis my son, I'm forced to be a man,  
And grow fond of his life, which thus I beg.  Artem. 
And I deny.  Anton. 
Sir you dishonour me,  
To sue for that which I disclaim to have,  
I shall more glory in my sufferings gain,  
Than you in giving judgement, since I offer  
My blood up to your anger: nor do I kneel  
To keep a wretched life of mine from ruin:  
Preserve this temple (builded fair as your is)  
And Caesar never went in greater triumph  
Than I shall to the scaffold.  Artem. 
Are you so brave Sir,  
Set forward to his triumph, and let those two  
Go cursing along with him.  Doro. 
No, but pitying,  
(For my part, I) that you lose ten times more  
By torturing me, than I that dare your tortures,  
Through all the army of my sins, I have even  
Lobord to break, and cope with death to th'face;  
The visage of a hangman frights not me;  
The sight of whips, racks, gibbets, axes, fires  
Are scaffoldings, by which my soul climbs up  
To an Eternal habitation.  Theo. 
Caesar's imperial daughter, hear me speak,  
Let not this Christian Thing, in this her pageantry  
Of proud deriding, both our gods and Caesar,  
Build to herself a kingdom in her death  
Going laughing from us. No, her bitterest torment  
Shall be to seel her constancy beaten down,  
The bravery of her resolution lie  
Battered by the argument, into such pieces,  
That she again shall (on her belly) creep  
To kiss the pavements of our Panim good.  Arte. 
How to be done.  Theo. 
He send my daughters to her,  
And they shall turn her rocky faith to wax,  
Else spit at me, let me be made your slave,  
And meet no Romans but a villain's grave.  Arte. 
Thy prisoner let her be then: and Sapritius  
Your son, and that be yours: death shall be sent  
To him that suffers them by voice or letters  
To greet each other. Rifle her estate,  
Christians to beggary brought grow desperate.  Dor. 
Still on the Bread of poverty let me feed.  exeunt. Ang. 
O my admired mistress; quench not out  
The holy fires within you, though temptations  
Shower down upon you: clasp thine armour on,  
Fight well and thou shalt see, after these wars  
Thy head wear Sun beams, and thy feet touch stars.  Enter Hircius and Spungius. Hir. 
How now Angelo how is't? how is't? what thread spins  
That whore Fortune upon her wheel now.  Spun. 
Comesta, comesta poor knave.  Hir. 
Come a port von, come a port von, my petite garcon  Spun. 
Me partha we Comrade, my half inch of man's  
Flesh, how run the dice of this cheating world, ha?  Ange. 
Too well on your sides, you are hid in gold  
o'er head and ears.  Hir. 
We thank our fates, the sign of the gingle-boys hangs at the doors of our pockets.  Spun. 
Who would think that we coming forth of the arse, as it were, or fag end of the world, should yet see the golden age, when so little silver is stirring.  Hir. 
Nay who can say any citizen is an Ass, for lading his own back, with money, till his soul cracks again, only to leave his son like a gilded coxcomb behind him? will not any fool take me for a wiseman now, seeing me draw out of the pit of my treasury, this little god with his belly full of gold.  Spun. 
And this full of the same meat out of my ambrey  An. 
That gold will melt to poison.  Spun. 
Poison, wudit would, whole pints for healths shall down my throat.  Hir. 
Gold poison! there's never a she-thrasher in Caesarea that lives on the flail of money will call it so.  Ang. 
Like slaves you sold your souls for golden dross,  
Bewitching her to death, who stepped between  
You, and the gallows.  Spun. 
'twas an easy matter to save us, she being so well backed.  Hir. 
The gallows and we fell out, so she did but part us  Ang. 
The misery of that mistress is mine own,  
She beggared, I left wretched.  Hir. 
I can but let my Nose drop in sorrow with wet eyes for her.  Spun. 
The petticoat of her estate is unlaced I confess.  Hir. 
Yes, & the smock of her charity is now all to pieces  An. 
For love you bear to her, for some good turns  
Done you by me, give me one piece of silver.  Hir. 
How la piece of silver! if thou wert an Angel of gold  
I would not put thee into white money, unless I weighed thee, and I weigh thee not a rush.  Spun. 
A piece of silver! I never had but two calves in my life, and those my mother left me; I'll rather part from the fat of them, then from a mustard-token's worth of Argent.  Hir. 
And so sweet Nit we crawl from thee.  Spun. 
Adieu, demi-dandiprat, adieu  An. 
Stay one word yet, you now are full of gold.  Hir. 
I'd be sorry my dog were so full of the pox.  Spun. 
Or any Sow of mine of the measles either.  Ang. 
Go, go, you're beggars both, you are not worth  
That leather on your feet.  Hir. 
Away, away boy.  Spun. 
Page you do nothing but set patches on the soles of your jests.  Ang. 
I'm glad I tried your love, which see I want not,  
So long as this is full.  Both. 
And so long as this.— so long as this.  Hir. 
Spungius you're a pickpocket.  Spun. 
Horcius thou hast nimmed-. so long as, not so much money is left as will buy a louse.  Hir. 
thouart a thief, and thou liest in that gut through which thy wine runs, if thou deniest it.  Spun. 
Thou liest deeper than the bottom of mine enraged pocket, if thou affront'st it.  Ang. 
No blows, no bitter language, all your gold gone.  Spun. 
Can the devil creep into ones breeches?  her 
Yes, if his horns once get into the codpiece,  Ang. 
Come, sigh not, I so little am in love  
With that whose loss kills you, that see 'tis yours,  
All yours, divide the heap in equal share,  
So you will go along with me to prison,  
And in our mistress sorrows bear a part:  
Say, will you?  Both. 
Will we?  Spun. 
If she were going to hanging, no gallows should part us.  Hir. 
Let's both be turned into a rope of Onions if we do  Ang. 
follow me then, repair your bad deeds passed,  
Happy are men when their best days are last,  Spun. 
True master Angelo, pray sir lead the way.  exit Au Hir. 
Let him lead that way, but follow thou me this way.  Spun. 
I live in a jail.  Hir. 
A way and shift for ourselves, she'll do well enough there, for prisoners are more hungry after mutton, than Catchpoles after prisoners.  Spun. 
Let her starve then if a whole jail will not fill her belly.  Exeunt Finis Actus secundi.  

Actus 3. Scenus 1.  Enter Sapritius, Theophilus, Priest, Caliste, Christeta. Sapritius. 
Sick to the death I fear.  Theophilus. 
I meet your sorrow,  
With my true feeling of it.  Sap. 
She's a Witch,  
A sorceress Theophilus, my son  
Is charmed by her enticing eyes, and like  
An image made of wax, her beams of beauty  
Melt him to nothing; all my hopes in him.  
And all his gotten honours find their grave  
In his strange dotage on her. Would when first  
He saw and loved her, that the earth had opened  
And swallowed both alive.  Theo. 
There's hope left yet.  Sap. 
Not any, though the Princess were appeased,  
All title in her love surrendered up,  
Yet this coy Christian, is so transported  
With her religion, that unless my son  
(But let him perish first) drink the same potion  
And be of her belief, she'll not vouchsafe  
To be his lawful wife.  Priest 
but once removed  
From her opinion, as I rest assured,  
The reason of these holy maids will win her,  
You'll find her tractable, to any thing  
For your content or his.  Theo. 
If she refuse it,  
The Stygian damps breeding infectious airs,  
The Mandrake's shrieks, or basilisk's killing eye,  
The dreadful lightning that does crush the bones  
And never singe the skin, shall not appear  
Less fatal to her, than my zeal made hot  
With love unto my gods; I have deferred it  
In hope to draw back this Apostata,  
Which will be greater honour than her death  
Unto her father's faith, and to that end  
Have brought my daughters hither.  Caliste. 
And we doubt not  
To do what you desire.  Sap. 
Let her be sent for,  
Prosper in your good work, and were I not  
To attend the Princess, I would see and hear  
How you succeed.  Theo. 
I am commanded to,  
I'll bear you company.  Sap. 
Give them your Ring  
To lead her as in triumph if they win her  
Before her highness.  exit Sap. Theo. 
Spare no promises,  
Persuasions, or threats I do conjure you,  
If you prevail, 'tis the most glorious work  
You ever undertook.  Enter Dorothea and Angelo. Priest. 
She comes.  Theoph. 
We leave you.  
Be constant and be careful.  exeunt Theo. Priest. Calaste. 
We are sorry  
To meet you under guard.  Dorothea. 
But I more grieved  
You are at liberty, so well I love you,  
That I could wish, for such a cause as mine  
You were my fellow prisoners: prithee Angels  
Reach us some chairs, please you sit?  Caliste. 
We thank you,  
Our visit is for love, love to your safety.  Christ. 
Our conference must be private, pray you therefore  
Command your boy to leave us.  Dorothea. 
You may trust him  
With any secret that concerns my life,  
Falsehood and he are strangers, had you Ladies  
been blessed with such a servant, you had never  
Forsook that way (your journey even half ended)  
That lead to joys eternal. In the place  
Of loose lascivious mirth, he would have stirred you  
To holy meditations, and so far  
He is from flattery, that he would have told you,  
Your pride being at the height, how miserable  
And wretched things you were, that for an hour  
Of pleasure here, have made a desperate sale  
Of all your right in happiness hereafter.  
He must not leave me, without him I fall,  
In this life he is my servant, in the other  
A wished companion  An. 
'tis not in the devil,  
Nor all his wicked arts to shake such goodness.  Doro. 
But you were speaking Lady.  Caliste. 
As a friend  
And lover of your safety, and I pray you  
So to receive it; and if you remember  
How near in love our parents were, that we  
e'en from the cradle were brought up together.  
Our amity increasing with our years,  
We cannot stand suspected.  Doro. 
To the purpose.  Cal. 
We come then as good Angels Dorothea,  
To make you happy, and the means so easy,  
That be not you an enemy to yourself,  
Already you enjoy it.  Christeta. 
Look on us  
Ruined as you are once, and brought unto it  
By your persuasion.  Cal. 
But what followed Lady,  
Leaving those blessings which our gods gives freely,  
And showered upon us with a prodigal hand,  
As to be noble borne, youth, beauty, wealth,  
And the free use of these without control,  
check, curb, or stop, (such is our law's indulgence)  
All happiness forsook us, bonds and fetters  
For amorous Twins, the Rack and hangman's whips  
In place of choice delights, our Parents curses  
Instead of blessings, scorn neglect, contempt  
Fell thick upon us.  Chris. 
This considered wisely,  
We made a fair retreat, and reconciled  
To our forsaken gods, we live again  
In all prosperity.  Caliste. 
By our example  
Bequeathing misery to such as love it,  
Learn to be happy, the Christian yokes too heavy  
For such a dainty neck, it was framed rather  
To be the shrine of Venus, or a Pillar  
More precious than Crystal to support  
Our Cupid's Image, our Religion Lady  
Is but a varied pleasure, yours a toil  
Slaves would shrink under.  Doro. 
Have you not cloven feetel are you not devils?  
Dare any say so much, or dare I hear it  
Without a virtuous and religious anger?  
Now to put on a Virgin modesty,  
Or maiden silence, when his power is questioned  
That is omnipotent, were a greater crime,  
Then in a bad cause to be impudent.  
Your Gods, your temples, brothel houses rather,  
Or wicked actions of the worst of men  
Pursued and practised, your religious rites,  
O call them rather juggling mysteries,  
The baits and nets of hell, your souls the prey  
For which the Devil angles, your false pleasures  
A steep descent by which you headlong fall  
Into eternal torments.  Cal. 
Do not tempt  
Our powerful gods.  Dor. 
Which of your powerful gods,  
Your gold, your silver, brass, or wooden ones?  
That can, nor do me hurt, nor protect you,  
Most pitied women, will you sacrifice  
To such, or call them gods or goddesses,  
Your Parents would disdain to be the same,  
Or you yourselves? O blinded ignorance,  
Tell me Caliste by the truth I charge you,  
Or any thing you hold more dear, would you  
To have him deified to posterity,  
Desire your father an Adulterer,  
A Ravisher, almost a Parricide,  
A vile incestuous wretch?  Cal. 
That pity  
And duty answer for me.  Dor. 
Or you Christeta,  
To be hereafter registered a goddess,  
Give your chaste body up to the embraces  
Of Goatish lust, have it writ on your forehead,  
This is the common Whore, the prostitute,  
The Mistress in the art of wantonness,  
Knows every trick and labyrinth of desires  
That are immodest.  Criste. 
You judge better of me,  
Or my affection is ill placed on you,  
Shall I turn Strumpet?  Dor, 
No, I think you would not,  
Yet Venus whom you worship was a whore,  
Flora the Foundress of the public Stews,  
And has for that her sacrifice: your great god,  
Your jupiter, a loose adulterer,  
Incestuous with his sister, read but those  
That have canonised them, you'll find them worse  
Than in chaste language I can speaks them to you,  
Are they immortal then that did partake  
Of humane weakness, and had ample share  
In men's most base affections? subject to  
unchaste loves, anger, bondage, wounds, as men are.  
Her jupiter to serve his lust turned Bull.  
The ship indeed in which he stole Europa.  
Neptune for gain builds up the walls of Troy  
As a day-labourer, Apollo keeps  
Admetus' sheep for bread; the Lemnian Smith  
Sweats at the Forge, for hire; Lyometheus here  
With his still growing Liver feeds the Vulture;  
Saturn bound fast in hell with adamant chains;  
And thousands more, on whom abused error  
Bestows a deity, will you then dear Sisters,  
For I would have you such, pay your Devotions  
To things of less power than yourselves?  Cal. 
We worship  
Their good deeds in their Images.  Dor. 
By whom fashioned,  
By sinful men? I'll tell you a short tale,  
Nor can you but confess it was a true one.  
A King of Egypt being to erect  
The Image of Osiris, whom they honour,  
Took from the matron's necks the richest jewels  
And purest gold, as the materials  
To finish up his work; which perfected,  
With all solemnity he set it up  
To be adored, and served himself his Idol;  
Desiring it to give him victory  
Against his enemies, but being overthrown,  
Enraged against his god (these are fine gods  
Subject to humane fury) he took down  
The senseless thing, and melting it again,  
He made a basin, in which Eunuchs washed  
His Concubine's feet, and for this for did use  
Some months it served: his mistress proving false,  
As most indeed do so, and grace concluded,  
Between him and the Priests, of the same basin  
He made his god again, think, think of this,  
And then consider, if all worldly honours  
Or pleasures that do leave sharp stings behind them,  
Have power to win such as have reasonable souls,  
To put their trust in dross.  Cal. 
Oh that I had been borne  
Without a father.  Chri. 
Piety to him  
Hath ruined us for ever.  Dor. 
Think not so,  
You may repair all yet, the Attribute  
That speaks his Godhead most, is merciful,  
Revenge is proper to the Fiends you worship,  
Yet cannot strike without his leave, you weep,  
Oh 'tis a heavenly shower, celestial balm  
To cure your wounded conscience, let it fall,  
Fall thick upon it, and when that is spent,  
I'll help it with another of my tears.  
And may your true repentance prove the child  
Of my true sorrow, never mother had  
A birth so happy.  Cal. 
We are caught ourselves  
That came to take you, and assured of conquest  
We are your Captives.  Dor. 
And in that you triumph,  
Your victory had been eternal loss,  
And this your loss immortal gain, fix here,  
And you shall feel yourselves inwardly armed  
'gainst tortures, death, and hell, but take heed sisters,  
That or through weakness, threats, or mild persuasions  
Though of a father, you fall not into  
A second and a worse Apostasy.  Cal. 
Never, oh never, steeled by your example,  
We dare the worst of tyranny.  Chri. 
here's our warrant,  
You shall along and witness it.  Dor. 
Be confirmed then  
And rest assured, the more you suffer here,  
The more your glory, you to heaven more dear.  exeunt. Enter Artemia, Sapritius, Theophilus, Harpax. Art. 
Sapritius though your son deserve no pity,  
We grieve his sickness, his contempt of us  
We cast behind us, and look back upon  
His service done to Caesar, that weighs down  
Our just displeasure, if his malady  
Have growth from his restraint, or that you think  
His liberty can cure him, let him have it,  
Say we forgive him freely.  Sap. 
Your grace hindeys  
Ever your humblest Vassals.  Art. 
Use all means  
For his recovery, though yet I love him,  
I will not force affection, if the Christian  
Whose beauty hath outrivaled mine, be won  
To be of our belief, let him enjoy her,  
That all may know when the cause will, I can  
Command my own desires.  The. 
Be happy then,  
My Lord Sapritius, I am confident  
Such eloquence and sweet persuasion dwells  
Upon my daughter's tongues, that they will work her  
To any thing they please.  Sap. 
I wish they may,  
Yet 'tis no easy task to undertake,  
To alter a perverse and obstinate woman. a shout within, loud Music.  Art. 
What means this shout.  Sap. 
'tis seconded with Music,  
triumphant music, ha.  Enter Sempromus. Semp. 
My Lord your Daughters  
The pillars of our faith having converted,  
For so report gives out: the Christian Lady,  
The Image of great jupiter borne before them  
Sue for access.  Theo. 
My soul divined as much,  
Blessed be the time when first they saw this light,  
Their Mother when she bore them to support  
My feeble age, filled not my longing heart  
With so much joy, as they in this good work  
Have thrown upon me.  Enter Priest with the Image of jupiter, jucense and Censors, followed by Caliste, and Christeta, leading Dorothea, 
Welcome, oh thrice welcome  
Daughters, both of my body and my mind,  
Let me embrace in you my bliss, my comfort,  
And Dorothea now more welcome too,  
Then if you never had fall'n off, I am ravished  
With the excess of joy, speak happy daughters  
The blessed event.  Cal. 
We never gained so much  
By any undertaking.  The. 
Oh my dear Girl,  
Our gods reward thee.  Dor. 
Nor was ever time  
On my part better spent.  Chri. 
We are all now  
Of one opinion.  The. 
My best Christeta,  
madam if ever you did grace to worth,  
Vouchsafe your Princely hands.  Art. 
Most willingly:  
Do you refuse it?  
Let us first deserve it:  The. 
My own child still, here set our god, prepare  
The Incense quickly, come fair Dorothea,  
I will myself support you, now kneel down  
And pay your vows to jupiter,  Dor. 
I shall do it  
Better by their example.  The. 
They shall guide you,  
They are familiar with the sacrifice,  
Forward my Twins of comfort, and to teach her  
Make a joint offering.  Chri. 
Thus. Cal. And thus. They both spit at the Image, throw it down, and spurn it.  Har. 
Profane  
And impious, stand you now like a Statue?  
Are you the Champion of the Gods? where is  
Your holy zeal, your anger?  The. 
I am blasted,  
And as my feet were rooted here, I find  
I have no motion, I would I had no sight too,  
Or if my eyes can serve to any use,  
Give me thou injured power a sea of tears,  
To expiate this madness in my Daughters:  
For being themselves, they would have trembled at  
So blasphemous a deed in any other,  
For my sake hold a while thy dreadful thunder,  
And give me patience to demand a reason  
For this accursed act.  Dor. 
'twas bravely done.  The. 
Peace damned Enchantress peace, I should look on you  
With eyes made red with fury, and my hand  
That shakes with rage should much outstrip my tongue,  
And seal my vengeance on your hearts, but nature  
To you that have fall'n once, bids me again  
To be a father, O how durst you tempt  
The anger of great jove?  Dor. 
A lack poor jove,  
He is no Swaggerer, how smug he stands,  
he'll take a kick, or any thing.  Sap. 
Stop her mouth.  Dor. 
It is the ancientest godling do not fear him,  
He would not hurt the thief that stole away  
Two of his golden locks, indeed he could not,  
And still 'tis the same quiet thing.  Theo. 
Blasphemer.  
Ingenious cruelty shall punish this,  
Thou art past hope, but for you yet dear daughters,  
Again be witched, the dew of mild forgiveness  
May gently fall, provided you deserve it  
With true contrition, be yourselves again,  
Sue to the offended deity.  Chi. 
Not to be  
The Mistress of the earth.  Cal. 
I will not offer  
A grain of Incense to it, much less kneel,  
Not look on it but with contempt and scorn,  
To have a thousand years conferred upon me  
Of worldly blessings, we profess ourselves  
To be like Dorothea, Christians,  
And owe he for that happiness.  The. 
My ears  
Receive in hearing this, all deadly charms  
Powerful to make man wretched.  Art. 
Are these they  
You bragged could convert others?  Sap. 
That want strength  
To stand themselves?  Har. 
Your Honour is engaged,  
The credit of our cause depends upon it,  
Something you must do suddenly,  The. 
And I will.  Har. 
They merit death, but falling by your hand,  
It will be recorded for a just revenge  
And holy fury in you.  The. 
Do not blow,  
The Furnace of a wrath thrice hot already,  
AEtna is in my breast, wild fire burns here,  
Which only blood must quench: incensed power,  
Which from my infancy I have adored,  
Look down with favourable beams upon  
The Sacrifice (though not allowed thy Priest)  
Which I will offer to thee, and be pleased  
(My fiery zeal inciding me to act it)  
To call that justice, others may style murder.  
Come you accursed, thus by the hair I drag you  
Before this holy altar; thus look on you  
Less pitiful than Tigers to their prey.  
And thus with mine own hand I take that life  
Which I gave to you. kills them.  Doro. 
O most cruel Butcher.  Theo. 
My anger ends not here, hell's dreadful porter  
Receive into thy ever open gates  
Their damned souls, and let the furies whips  
On them alone be wasted: and when death  
Closes these eyes, 'twill be Elysium to me,  
To hear their shrieks and howlings, make me Pluto  
Thy instruments to furnish thee with souls  
Of this accursed sect, nor let me fall  
Till my fell vengeance hath consumed them all.  exit with Harpax hugging him. Enter Artemia laughing. Arte. 
'tis a brave zeal.  Doro. 
O call him back again,  
Call back your hangman, here's on prisoner left  
To be the subject of his knife.  Arte. 
Not so.  
We are not so near reconciled unto thee,  
Thou shalt not perish such an easy way.  
Be she your charge Sapritius now, and suffer  
None to come near her till we have found out  
Some torments worthy of her.  Ano. 
Courage Mistress,  
These Martyrs but prepare your glorious fate,  
You shall exceed them and not imitate.  exeunt. Enter Spungius and Hircius ragged at several doors. Hir. 
Spungious.  Spun. 
My fine rogue, how is't? how goes this tottered world  Hir. 
Hast any money?  Spun. 
Money! no, the Tavern. ivy clings about my money and kills it. Hast thou any money?  Hir. 
No, my money is a mad Bull, and finding any gap opened, away it runs.  Spun. 
I see then a Tavern and a Bawdy-house have faces much like, the one has red grates next door, the tother has peeping holes within doors; the Tavern hath evermore a bush, the bawdy close sometimes neither hedge nor bush. From a Tavern a man comes reeling, from a bawdy house not able to stand. In the Tavern you are cozened with paltry Wine, in a bawdy-house by a painted Where, Money may have Wine, and a Whore will have Money, but neither can you cry, Drawer you Rogue, or keep door rotten Bawd, without a silver Whistle, we are justly plagued therefore for running from our Mistress.  Hir. 
Thou didst, I did not; yet I had run to, but that one gave me turpentine pills, & that stayed my running.  Spun. 
Well: the thread of my life is drawn through the needle of necessity, whose eye looking upon my lousy breeches, cries out it cannot mend'em: which so pricks the linings of my body, and those are Heart, Lights, Lungs, Guts, and Midriff, that I beg on my knees to have Atropos (the tailor to the destinies) to take her shears and cut my thread in two, or to heat the Iron goose of Mortality, and so press me to death.  Hir. 
Sure thy father was some botcher, and thy hungry tongue bit off these shreds of complaints, to patch up the elbows of thy nitty eloquence.  Spun. 
And what was thy father?  Hir. 
A low minded Cobbler, a Cobbler whose zeal set many a woman upright, the remembrance of whose Awl I now having nothing, thrusts such scurvy stitches into my soul, that the heel of my happiness has gone awry.  Spun. 
Pity that ere thou trodst thy shoe awry.  Hir. 
Long I cannot last, for all sowterly wax of comfort melting away, and misery taking the length of my foot, it boots not me to sue for life when all my hopes are seam. rent, and go wet-shod.  Spun. 
This shows th'at ta cobbler's son by going through stirch: O Hircius would thou & I were so happy to be cobblers  Hir. 
So would I, for both of us being now weary of our lives, should then be sure of shoemakers ends.  Spun. 
I see the beginning of my end for I am almost starved.  Hir. 
So am not I, but I am more than famished.  Spun. 
All the members of my body are in rebellion one against another.  Hir. 
So are mine, and nothing but a cook being a constable can appease them, presenting to my nose, instead of his painted staff, a spitful of roast-meat.  Spun. 
But in this rebellion, what uproars do they make, my belly cries to my mouth, why dost not gape & feed me  Hir. 
And my mouth sets out a throat to my hand why dost not thou lift up meat and cram my chops with it.  Spun. 
Then my hand hath a fling at mine eyes, because they look not out and shark for victuals.  Hir. 
Which mine eyes seeing, full of tears, cry aloud, and curse my feet for not ambling up and down to feed Colon, sithence if good meat be in any place, 'tis known my feet can smell.  Spu. 
But then my feet like lazy rogues lie still, and had rather do nothing, then run to and fro, to purchase anything  Hir. 
Why 'mong so many millions of people, should thou and I only be miserable tatterdemalions, ragamuffins, and lousy desperates.  Spun. 
Thou art a mere I am-an-o, I am-an-as, consider the whole world, and 'tis as we are.  Hir. 
Lousy, beggarly, thou whoreson Assa Faetida.  Spun. 
Worse, all totterings, all out of frame, thou Fooliamini  Hir. 
As how arsenic: come make the world smart.  Sp. 
Old Honour goes on crutches, beggary rides caroched, honest men make feasts, knaves sit at tables, cowards are laptin velvet, soldiers (as we) in rags: Beauty turns Whore; Whore Bawd; and both die of the pox: why then when all the world stumbles, should thou and I walk upright?  Enter Angelo. Hir. 
Stop, look who's yonder.  Spun. 
Fellow Angelo! how does my little man? well.  Ang. 
Yes, and would you did so, where are your clothes?  Hir. 
Clothes! you see every woman almost go in her loose gown, and why should not we have our clothes lose?  Spun. 
Would they were loose.  Ang. 
Why where are they?  Spun. 
Where many a velvet cloak I warrant at this hour keeps them company, they are pawned to a Broker.  Ang. 
Why pawned, where's all the gold I left with you?  Hir. 
The gold! we put that into a scrivener's hands, and he has cozened us.  Spun. 
And therefore I prithee Angelo, if thou hast another purse, let it be confiscate, and brought to devastation.  Ang. 
Are you made all of lies? I know which way  
Your gilt-winged pieces flew; I will no more  
Be mocked by you: be sorry for your riots,  
Tame your wild flesh by labour, eat the bread  
Got with hard hands: let sorrow be your whip  
To draw drops of repentance from your heart,  
When I read this amendment in your eyes,  
You shall not want, till then my pity dies.  exit. Spun. 
Is't not a shame that this scurvy Puerilis should give us lessons?  Hir. 
I have dwelled thou know'st A long time in the Suburbs of the conscience, and they are ever bawdy, but now my heart shall take a house within the walls of honesty.  Enter Harpax aloof. Spun. 
O you drawers of wine, draw me no more to the bar of Beggary; the sound of Score a pottle of sack, is worse than the noise of a scolding oyster wench, or two Cats incorporating.  Harp. 
This must not be, I do not like when conscience  
Thaws, keep her frozen still: how now my masters?  
Dejected, drooping, drowned in tears, clothes torn,  
Lean, and ill coloured, sighing! what's the whirlwind  
Which raiseth all these mischiefs? I have seen you  
Drawn better on't. O! but a spirit told me  
You both would come to this, when in you thrust  
yourselves into the service of that Lady,  
Who shortly now must die; where's now her praying  
What good get you by wearing your our feet,  
To run on scurvy errands to the poor,  
And to bear money to a sort of rogues,  
And lousy prisoners.  Hir. 
A pox on'em, I never prospered since I did it.  Spun. 
Had I been a Pagan still, I could not have spit white for want of drink, but come to any Vintner now and bid him trust me, because I turned Christian, and he cries puh,  Har. 
You're rightly served; before that peevish Lady  
Had to do with you, women, wine, and money  
Flowed in abundance with you, did it not?  Hir. 
Oh! those days, those days.  Har. 
Beat not your breasts, tear not your hair in madness  
Those days shall come again be ruled by me,  
And better (mark me) better.  Spun. 
I have seen you sir as I take it, an attendant on the Lord Theophilus.  Har. 
Yes, yes, in show his servant, but hark hither.  
Take heed nobody listens.  Spun. 
Not a Mouse stirs.  Har. 
I am a Prince disguised.  Hir. 
Disguised! how! drunk,  Har. 
Yes my fine boy, I'll drink to, and be drunk,  
I am a Prince, and anyaman by me  
(Let him but keep my rules) shall soon grow rich,  
Exceeding rich, most infinitely rich,  
He that shall serve me, is not starved from pleasures  
As other poor knaves are; no, take their fill,  Spun. 
But that sir, we are so ragged...  Har. 
You'll say, you'd serve me.  Hir. 
Before any master under the Zodiac.  Harp. 
For clothes no matter; I have a mind to both.  
And one thing I like in you, now that you see  
The bonfire of your Lady's state burnt out,  
You give it over, do you not?  Hir. 
Let her be hanged.  Spun. 
And poxed.  Harp 
Why now you're mine.  
Come let my bosom touch you.  Spun. 
We have bugs Sir.  Hir. 
there's money, fetch your clothes home, there's for you  Hir. 
Avoid Vermin: give over our mistress! a man cannot prosper worse if he serve the devil.  Har. 
How? the devil! I'll tell you what now of the devil,  
He's no such horrid creature, cloven footed,  
Black, saucer-eyed, his nostrils breathing fire,  
As these lying Christians make him.  Both 
No!  Har. 
He's more loving,  
To man, than man to man is.  Hir. 
Is he so! would we two might come acquainted with him.  Har. 
You shall: he's a wondrous good fellow, loves a cup of wine, a whore, any thing, you have money, it's ten to one but I'll bring him to some Tavern to you or other.  Spun. 
I'll bespeake the best room i'th'; house for him.  Har. 
Some people he cannot endure.  Hir. 
we'll give him no such cause.  Har. 
He hates a civil Lawyer, as a soldier does peace?  Spun. 
How a commoner?  Har. 
loves him from the teeth outward.  Spun. 
Pray my Lord and Prince, let me encounter you with one foolish question: does the devil eat any Mace in's broth?  Har. 
Exceeding much, when his burning fever takes him, and then he has the knuckles of a Bailiff boiled to his breakfast.  Hir. 
Then my Lord, he loves a catchpole does he not? Har. As a Bearward does a dog, a catchpole! he has sworn if ever he dies, to make a Sergeant his heir, and a yeoman his overseer.  Spun. 
How if he come to any great man's gate, will the Porter let him come in sit?  Har. 
Oh, he loves Porters of great men's gates, because they are ever so near the wicket.  Hir. 
Do not they whom he makes much on, for all his stroking their cheeks, lead hellish lives under him.  Har. 
No, no, no, no, he will be damn before he hurts any man. Do but you (when you're throughly acquainted with him) ask for any thing, see if it does not come.  Spun. 
Anything!  Har. 
Call for a delicate race whore; she's brought you.  Hir. 
Oh my elbow itches: will the devil keep the door?  Har. 
Be drunk as a beggar, he helps you home.  Spun. 
O my fine devil! some watchman I warrant, I wonder who's his constable.  Har. 
Will you swear, roar, swagger? he claps you.  Hir. 
How! o'th' chops.  Har. 
No, o'th' shoulder, and cries O my brave boy.  
Will any of you kill a man?  Spun. 
Yes, yes, ay, I.  Har. 
What's his word, hang, hang, 'tis nothing.  
Or stab a woman.  Hir. 
Yes, yes, ay, I.  Har. 
Here's the worst word he gives you, a pox on't go on.  Hir. 
O inveigling rascal, I am ravished.  Har. 
Go get your clothes, turn up your glass of youth,  
And let the sands run merrily, nor do I care  
From what a lavish hand your money flies,  
So you give none away, feed beggars.  Hir. 
Hang 'em.  Har. 
And to the scrubbing poor.  Hir. 
I'll see 'em hanged first.  Har. 
One service you must do me.  Both. 
Anything.  Har. 
Your Mistress Dorothea, ere she suffers,  
Is to be put to tortures, have you hearts  
To tear her into shrieks, to fetch her soul  
Up in the Pangs of death, yet not to die.  Hir. 
Suppose this she, and that I had no hands, here's my teeth.  Spun. 
Suppose this she, and that I had no teeth, here's my nails.  Hir. 
But will not you be there sir.  Har. 
No, not for hills of diamonds, the grand Master  
Who schools her in the Christian discipline,  
Abhors my company; should I be there,  
You'd think all hell broke loose, we shall so quarrel.  
Ply you this business; he, her flesh who spares  
Is lost, and in my love never more shares.  exit. Spun. 
Here's a Master you rogue.  Hir. 
Sure lie cannot choose but have a horrible number of servants.  exeunt 
Finis Actus tertis.   

Actus 4. Scena 1.  A bed thrust out, Antioninus upon it sicks, with Physicians about him, Sapritius and Macrinus. Sap. 
O You that are half gods, lengthen that life  
Their deities lend us, turn over all the volumes  
Of your mysterious AEsculapian science  
T'encrease the number of this young man's days,  
And for each minute of his time prolonged,  
Your fee shall be a piece of Roman gold  
With Caesar's stamp, such as he sends his Captains  
When in the wars they earn well: do but save him,  
And as he is half myself, be you all mine.  Doct. 
What art can do, we promise: physics hand  
As apt is to destroy, as to preserve,  
If heaven make not the medicine; all this while  
Our skill hath combat held with his disease,  
But 'tis so armed, and a deep melancholy  
To be such in part with death, we are in fear  
The grave must mock our labours.  Mac. 
I have been  
His keeper in this sickness, with such eyes  
As I have seen my mother watch o'er me,  
And from that observation sure I find,  
It is a Mid wife must deliver him.  Sap. 
Is he with child, a Mid wife:  Mac. 
Yes, With child,  
And will I fear lose life if by a woman  
He is not brought to bed: stand by his Pillow  
Some little while and in his broken slumbers  
Him shall you hear cry out on Dorothea,  
And when his arms fly open to catch her,  
Closing together, he falls fast asleep,  
Pleased with embracings of her airy form;  
Physicians but torment him, his disease  
Laughs at their gibberish language, let him hear  
The voice of Dorothea, nay but the name,  
He starts up with high colour in his face,  
She or none cures him, and how that can be,  
(The Princess strict command, barring that happiness)  
To me impossible seems.  Sap. 
To me it shall not.  
I'll be no subject to the greatest Caesar  
Was ever crowned with Laurel, rather than cease  
To be a father.  exit. Mac. 
Silence sit, he wakes.  Ant. 
Thou kill'st me Dorothea, oh Dorothea.  Mac. 
she's here; I enjoy her.  Ant. 
Where, Why do you mock me,  
Age on my head hath stuck no white hairs yet,  
Yet I'm an old man, a fond doting fool  
Upon a woman, I to buy her beauty,  
(Truth I am bewitched) offer my life,  
And she for my acquaintance hazards hers,  
Yet for our equal sufferings, none holds out  
A hand of pity.  Doct. 
Let him have some Music.  Ant. 
Hell on your fiddling.  Doct. 
Take again your bed Sir,  
Sleep is a sovereign Physic.  Ant. 
Take an ass's head Sir,  
Confusion on your fooleries, your charms,  
Thou stinking Glister-pipe, where's the god of rest,  
Thy Pills, and base Apothecary drugs  
Threatened to bring unto me, out you Impostors,  
Quacksaluing, cheating mountebanks, your skill  
Is to make sound men sick, and sick men kill.  Mac. 
O be yourself dear friend.  An. 
myself Macrunis  
How can I be myself, when I am mangled  
Into a thousand pieces, here moves my head,  
But where's my heart? wherever, that lies dead.  Enter Sapritius dragging in Dorothea by the Hair, Angelo attending. Sap. 
Follow me thou damned sorcerers, call up thy spirits,  
And if they can, now let 'em from my hand  
Untwine these witching hairs.  Ant. 
I am that spirit,  
Or if I be not (were you not my father)  
One made of Iron should how that hand in pieces  
That so defaces this sweet Monument  
Of my love's beauty?  Sap. 
Art thou sick?  Ant. 
To death.  Sap. 
Wouldst thou recover?  Ant. 
Would I live in bliss?  Sap. 
And do thine eyes shoot daggers at that man  
That brings thee health?  Aut. 
It is not in the world?  Sap. 
Is't here?  Ant. 
Oh Treasure, by enchantment locked  
In Caves as deep as hell, am I as near.  Sap. 
Break that enchanted Caut, enter, and rifle  
The spoils thy lust hunts after, I descend  
To a base office, and become thy Pandar  
In bringing thee this proud Thing, make her thy Whore,  
Thy health lies here if she deny to give it,  
Force it, imagine thou assault'st a town,  
Weak wall, to't, 'tis thine own, beat but this down,  
Come, and unseen, be witness to this battery,  
How the coy strumpet yields.  Doct. 
Shall the boy stay sir.  Sap. 
No matter for the boy,  
Pages are used to these odd bawdy  
Shufflings, and indeed are those  
Little young snakes in a Fury's head  
Will sting worse than the great ones,  
Let the Pimp stay.  exeunt aside. Dor. 
Oh guard me Angels,  
What Tragedy must begin now?  Ant. 
When a Tiger  
Leaps into a timorous herd, with ravenous jaws  
Being hunger-starved, what Tragedy then begins?  Dor. 
Death I am happy so, you hitherto  
Have still had goodness spared within your eyes,  
Let not that Orb be broken.  Ang. 
Fear not Mistress,  
If he dare offer violence, we two  
Are strong enough for such a sickly man.  Dor. 
What is your horrid purpose sir, your eye  
Bears danger in it?  Ant. 
I must.  Dor. 
What.  Sap. 
Speak it out.  Ant. 
Climb that sweet Virgin tree.  Sap. 
Plague a your trees.  Ant. 
And pluck that fruit which none I think ever tasted:  Sap. 
A soldier, and stand fumbling so.  Dor. 
O Kill me, Kneels.  
And heaven will take it as a sacrifice,  
But it you play the Ravisher, there is  
A Hell to swallow you.  Sap. 
Let her swallow thee.  Ant. 
Rise for the Roman Empire (Dorothea)  
I would not wound thine honour, pleasure forced  
Are unripe Apples, sour, not worth the plucking,  
Yet let me tell you, 'tis my father's will,  
That I should seize upon you as my prey.  
Which I abhor as much as the blackest sin  
The villainy of man did ever act. Sapritius breaks in and Macrinus.  Ang. 
Die happy for this language.  Sap. 
Die a slave,  
A blockish Idiot.  Mac. 
Dear sir, vex him not.  Sap. 
Yes, and vex thee too, both I think are geldings,  
Cold, Phlegmatic Bastard, thouart no brat of mine,  
One spark of me, when I had heat like thine  
By this had made a Bonfire: a tempting whore  
(For whom thouart mad) thrust even into thine arms,  
And standst thou puling? had a tailor seen her  
Her at this advantage, he with his cross-capers  
Had ruffled her by this, but thou shalt curse  
Thy dalliance, and here before her eyes  
Tear thy flesh in pieces, when a slave  
In hot lust baths himself, and gluts those pleasures  
Thy niceness durst not touch, call out a slave,  
You Captain of our guard, fetch a slave hither.  exit. Ant. 
What will you do dear Sir.  Sap. 
Teach her a trade, which many would learn  
In less than half an hour, to play the Whore.  Enter a Slave. Mac. 
A Slave is to me, what now.  Sap. 
Thou hast bones and flesh  
Enough to ply thy labour, from what country  
Wert thou ta'en Prisoner, here to be our slave.  Slave. 
From Britain.  Sap. 
In the west Ocean.  Sla. 
Yes.  Sap. 
An Island.  Sla. 
Yes.  Sap. 
I am fitted, of all Nations  
Our Roman swords ever conquered, none comes near  
The Britain for true whoring: sirrah fellow,  
What wouldst thou do to gain thy liberty?  Sla. 
Do! liberty! fight naked with a Lion,  
Venture to pluck a Standard from the heart  
Of an armed Legion: liberty! I'd thus  
Bestride a Rampire, and defiance spit  
I'th' face of death; then, when the battering Ram  
Were fetching his career backward to pash  
Me with his horns in pieces: to shake my chains off,  
And that I could not do't but by thy death,  
Stoodst thou on this dry shore, I on a rock  
Ten Pyramids high, down would I leap to kill thee,  
Or die myself: what is for man to do  
I'll venture on, to be no more a slave.  Sap. 
Thou shalt then be no slave, for I will set thee  
Upon a piece of work is fit for man,  
Brave for a Britain, drag that Thing aside  
And ravish her.  Sla. 
And ravish her! is this your manly service,  
A Devil scorns to do't, 'tis for a beast,  
A villain, not a man, I am as yet  
But half a slave, but when that work is past,  
A damned whole one, a black ugly slave,  
The slave of all base slaves, do't thyself Roman,  
'tis drudgery fit for thee.  Sap. 
he's bewitched too,  
Bind him, and with a Bastinado give him  
Upon his naked belly 200. blows.  Sla. 
Thou art more slave than I.  exit carried in. Dor. 
That power supernal on whom waits my soul,  
Is Captain o'er my chastity.  Ant. 
Good sir give over,  
The more you wrong her, yourselves vexed the more,  Sap. 
plague's light on her and thee; thus down I throw  
Thy Harlot thus byth' hair, nail her to earth,  
Call in ten slaves, let every one discover  
What lust desires, and surfeit here his fill,  
Call in ten slaves.  Ang. 
They are come sir at your call.  Sap. 
O oh. Falls down.  Enter Theophilus. The. 
Where is the Governor?  Ant. 
There's my wretched father.  The. 
My Lord, Sapritius, he's not dead, my Lord,  
That Witch there.  Aut. 
'tis no Roman gods can strike  
These fearful terrors, O thou happy maid,  
Forgive this wicked purpose of my father.  Dor. 
I do.  The. 
Gone, gone, he's peppered: 'tis thou  
Hast done this act internal.  Dor. 
Heaven pardon you,  
And if my wrongs from thence pull vengeance down  
(I can no miracles work) yet from my soul  
Pray to those powers I serve, he may recover.  The. 
He stirs, help, raise him up, my Lord.  Sap. 
Where am I?  The 
One cheek is blasted.  Sap. 
Blasted! Where's the Lamia  
That tears my entrails? I'm be witched, seize on her?  Dor. 
I'm here, do what you please.  The. 
Spurn her toth' bar.  Dor. 
Come boy, being there, more near to heaven we are  Sap 
Kick harder, go out witch.  exeunt. Ant. 
O bloody hangmen, thine own gods give thee breath,  
Each of thy tortures is my several death.  exit. Enter Harpax Hircius, and Spungius. Har. 
Do you like my service now, say am not I  
A Master worth attendance.  Spun. 
Attendance, I had rather lick clean the soles of your dirty boots, then wear the richest suit of any infected Lord, whose rotten life hangs between the 2 Poles.  Hir. 
A Lords suit! I would not give up the cloak of your service to meet the splay-foot estate of any left-eyed knight above the Antipodes, because they are unlucky to meet.  Har. 
This day i'll try your loves to me, 'tis only  
But well to use the agility of your arms,  Spun. 
Or legs, I am lofty at them.  Hir. 
Or any other member that has no legs.  Spun. 
thou'lt run into some hole.  Hir. 
If I meet one that's more than my match, & that I cannot stand in their hands, I must & will creep on my knees.  Har. 
hear me my little team of villains, hear me,  
I cannot teach you Fencing with these Cudgels,  
Yet you must use them, lay them on but soundly,  
That's all.  Hir. 
Nay if we come to malling once, puh,  Spun. 
But what Walnut tree is it we must beat.  Har. 
Your Mistress.  Hir. 
How! my Mistress! I begin to have a Christians heart, made of sweet butter, I melt, I cannot strike a woman.  Hir. 
Not I, unless she scratch, bum my mistress!  Har. 
You're Coxcombs, silly Animals,  Hir. 
What's that?  Har. 
Drones, Asses, blinded Moles, that dare not thrust  
Your arms out to catch Fortune, say you fall off,  
It must be done you are converted Rascals,  
And that once spread abroad, why every slave  
Will kick you, call you motley Christians,  
And half faced Christians.  Spun. 
The guts of my conscience begin to be of whitleather,  Hir. 
I doubt me I shall have no sweet butter in me.  Har. 
Deny this, and each Pagan whom you meet  
Shall forked fingers thrust into your eyes.  Hir. 
If we be Cuckolds.  Har. 
Do this, and every god the Gentiles bow to,  
Shall add a fathom to your line of years.  Spun. 
A hundred fathom, I desire no more.  Hir. 
I desire but one inch longer,  Har. 
The Senators will as you pass along  
Clap you upon your shoulders with this hand,  
And with this hand glue you gold when you are dead,  
Happy that man shall be can get a nail,  
The paring—, they the dirt under the nail  
Of any of you both, to say this dirt  
Belonged to Spungius or Hercius.  Spun. 
They shall not want dirt under my nails, I'll keep'em long of purpose, for now my singer's itch to be at her.  Hir. 
The first thing I do I'll take her o'er the lips.  Spun. 
And I the hips, we may strike anywhere.  Har. 
Yes, anywhere.  Hir. 
Then I know where i'll hit her.  Har. 
Prosper and be mine own; stand by, I must not  
To see this done, great business calls me hence,  
he's made can make her curse his violence.  exit. Spun. 
Fear it not sir, her ribs shall be basted.  Hir. 
He come upon her with rounce, robble-hobble, and thwick-thwack thirlety bouncing.  Enter Dorothea lead Prisoner, a Guard attending, a Hangman with Cords in some ugly shape, sets up a Pillar in the middle of the stage, Sapritius and Theophilus sit, Angelo by her. Sap. 
According to our Roman customs, bind  
That Christian to a Pillar.  Theo. 
Infernall Furies,  
Could they into my hand thrust all their whips  
To tear thy flesh thy soul, 'tis not a torture  
Fit to the Vengeance, I should heap on thee,  
For wrongs done me: me! for flagitious facts  
By thee done to our gods, yet (so it stand  
To great Caesarea's Governors high pleasure)  
Bow but thy Knee to jupiter and offer  
Any slight sacrifice, or do but swear  
By Caesar's fortune, and be free.  Sap. 
Thou shalt.  Dor. 
Not for all Caesar fortune, were it chained  
To more worlds, then are kingdoms in the world,  
And all those worlds drawn after him: I defy  
Your hangmen; you now show me whither to fly.  Sap. 
Are her tormentors ready?  Ang. 
Shrink not dear mistress.  Both. 
My Lord, we are ready for the business.  Dor. 
You two! whom I like fostered children fed,  
And lengthened out your starved life with bread:  
You be my hangman! whom when up the ladder  
Death hauled you to be strangled, I fetched down  
Clothed you, and warmed you, you two my tormentors.  Both. 
Yes, use.  Dor. 
Divine powers pardon you.  Sap. 
Strike. strike at her: Angelo kneeling holds her fast.  Theo. 
Beat out her brains—,  Dor. 
Receive me you bright Angels.  Sap. 
Faster slaves.  Spun. 
Faster: I am out of breath I'm sure: if I were to beat a buck, I can strike no harder.  Hir. 
O mine arms, I cannot list'em to my head.  Dor. 
joy above joys, are my tormentors weary  
In torturing me, and in my sufferings  
I fainting in no limb: ●●●●anto strike home  
And feast your fury full.  Theo. 
These dogs are ours. come from his seat.  
Which snarl, yet bite not: see my Lord, her face  
Has more bewitching beauty then before,  
Proud whore: it smiles, cannot an eye shart out  
With these.  Hir. 
No sir, not the bridge of her nose fall, 'tis full of Iron work.  Sap. 
Let's view the oudgols, are they not counterfeit.  Ang. 
There fix thine eye still, thy glorious crown must come  
Not from soft pleasure, but by martyrdom,  
There fix thine eye still, when we next do meet,  
Not thorns, but roses shall bear up thy feet:  
There fix thine eye still.  exit. Enter Harpax sneaking. Dor. 
Ever, ever, ever.  Theo. 
we are mocked, these bats have power down to fell giants, yether skin is not feared.  Sap. 
What rogues are these.  Theo. 
Cannot these force a shriek. beats them.  Spun. 
Oh! a woman has one of my ribs, and now five more are broken.  Theo. 
Cannot this make her roar. beats tother he roars  Sa. 
Who hired these slaves? what are they?  Spun. 
We serve that noble Gentleman there, he enticed us to this dry-beating, oh for one half pot.  Har. 
My servants! two base rogues, & sometimes servants  
To her and for that cause forbear to hurt her.  Sap. 
Unbind her, hang up these.  Theo. 
Hang the two hounds on the next tree.  Hir. 
Hang us! master Harpax, what a devil shall we be thus used.  Har. 
What bandogs but you two would worry a woman!  
Your mistessell but clapped you, you flew on:  
Say I should get your lives, each rascal beggar  
Would when he met you, cry, out hellhounds, traitors  
Spit at you, fling dirt at you, and no woman  
Ever endure your fight: 'tis your best course  
(Now had you secret knives) to stab yourselves,  
But since you have not, go and be hanged.  Hir. 
I thank you.  Har. 
I is your best course.  Theo. 
Why stay they trifling here?  
To gallows drag'em by the heels: away.  Spun. 
By the heels! no sir, we have legs to do us that service.  Hir. 
ay, ay, if no woman can endure my sight, away with me.  exeunt. Har. 
Dispatch'em.  Spun. 
The devil dispatch thee.  exit. Sap. 
Death this day ride in triumph, Theophilus.  
See this witch made away to.  Theo. 
My soul thirst for it,  
Come, I myself, thy hangman's part could play.  Dor. 
Oh hasten me to my coronation day.  exeunt Enter Antoninus, Macrinus, servants. Anton. 
Is this the place where virtue is to suffer,  
And heavenly beauty leaving this base earth,  
To make a glad return from whence it came,  
Is it Macrinus? a scaffold thrust forth  Mac. 
By this preparation  
You well may rest assured that Dorothea  
This hour is to die here.  Anton. 
Then with her dies  
The abstract of all sweetness that's in woman,  
Set me down friend, that ere the iron hand  
Of death close up mine eyes, they may at once  
Take my last leave both of this light, and her:  
For she being gone, the glorious Sun himself  
To me's Cimmerian darkness.  Macr. 
Strange affection!  
Cupid once more hath changed his shafts with death,  
And kills in stead of giving life.  Anton. 
Nay weep not,  
Though tears of friendship be a sovereign balm,  
On me they are cast a way: it is decreed  
That I must die with her, our clew of life  
Was spun together.  Macr. 
Yet sir 'tis my wonder  
That you who hearing only what she suffers,  
Partake of all her tortures, yet will be  
To add to your calamity, an eye witness  
Of her last Tragic scene, which must pierce deeper  
And make the wound more desperate.  Anton. 
O Macrinus,  
'twould linger out my torment self, not kill me,  
Which is the end I aim at, being to die to.  
What instrument more glorious can I wish for,  
Then what is made sharp by my constant love  
And true affection. It may be the duty  
And loyal service with which I pursued her,  
And sealed it with my death, will be remembered  
Among her blessed actions, and what honour  
Can I desire beyond it?  Enter a guard bringing in Dorothea, a headsman before her, followed by Theophitus, Sapritius, Harpax. 
See she comes,  
How sweet her innocence appears, more like  
To heaven itself then any sacrifice  
That can be offered to it. By my hopes  
Of joys hereafter, the sight makes me doubtful  
In my belief, nor can I think our gods  
Are good, or to be served, that take delight  
In offerings of this kind, that to maintain  
Their power, do face the master piece of nature,  
Which they themselves come short of she ascends,  
An every step raises her nearer heaven.  
What god soe'er thou art that most enjoy her,  
Receive in her a boundless happiness  Sap. 
You are too blame  
To let him come abroad.  Macr. 
It was his will,  
And we were left to serve him, not command him,  Anton. 
Good sir be not offended, nor deny  
My last of pleasures in this happy object  
That I shall ere be blessed with.  Theo. 
Now proud contemner  
Of us and of our gods, tremble to think  
It is not in the power thou servest, to save thee.  
Not all the riches of the sea increased  
By violent shipwracks, nor the unsearched mines  
Mammon's unknown exchequer shall redeem thee.  
And therefore having first with horror weighed  
What 'tis to die, and to die young, to part with  
All pleasures, and delights: lastly, to go  
Where all Antipathies to comfort dwell  
Furies behind, about thee, and before thee,  
And to add to affliction the remembrance  
Of the Elysian joys thou might'st have tasted,  
Hadst thou not turned Apostata to those gods  
That so reward their servants, let despair  
Prevent the hangman's sword, and on this scaffold  
Make thy first entrance into hell.  Anton. 
She smiles,  
Unmoved by Mars, as if she were assured  
Death looking on her constancy would forget  
The use of his inevitable hand.  Theo. 
Derided to? dispatch I say.  Dor. 
Thou fool  
That gloriest in having power to ravish  
A trifle from me I am weary of:  
What is this life? to me not worth a thought  
Or if to be esteemed, 'tis that I lose it  
To win a better, e'en thy realice serves  
To me but as a ladder to mount up  
To such a height of happiness where I shall  
Look down with scorn on thee, and on the world,  
Where circled with true pleasures, placed above  
The reach of death or time, 'twill be my glory  
To think at what an, easy price I bought it.  
There's a perpetual spring, perpetual youth,  
No joint benumbing cold, nor scorching heat,  
Famine nor age have any being there:  
Forget for shame your Tempe, bury in  
Oblivion, your feigned your Hesperian Orchards  
The Golden fruit kept by the watchful Dragon  
Which did require Hercules to get it  
Compared with what grows in all plenty there,  
Deserves not to be named. The power I serve  
Laughs at your happy Arabia, or the  
Elysian shades, for he hath made his bowers  
Better indeed than you can fancy yours.  Anton. 
O take me thither with you.  Doro. 
Trace my steps  
And be assured you shall.  Sap. 
With mine own hands  
He rather stop that little breath is left thee,  
And rob thy killing fever.  Theo. 
By no means,  
Let him go with her, do seduced young man,  
And wait upon thy saint in death, do, do,  
And when you come to that imagined place,  
That place of all delights, pray you observe me,  
And meet those cursed things I once called daughters,  
Whom I have sent as harbingers before you,  
If there be any truth in your religion,  
In thankfulness to me that with care hasten  
Your journey thither, pray send me some  
Small pittance of that curious fruit you boast of.  Ant. 
Grant that I may go with her, and I will.  Sap. 
Wilt thou in thy last minute damn thyself?  Theo. 
The gates to hell are open.  Dor. 
Know thou tyrant  
Thou agent for the devil thy great master  
Though thou art most unworthy to taste of it,  
I can and will.  Enter Angelo in the angel's habit. Har. 
Oh! mountains fall upon me,  
Or hide me in the bottom of the deep,  
Where light may never find me.  Theo. 
What's the matter?  Sap. 
This is prodigious, and confirms her witch craft.  Theo. 
Harpax my Harpax speak.  Har. 
I dare not stay,  
Should I but hear her once more I were lost,  
Some whirl wind snatch me from this cursed place,  
To which compared (and with what now I suffer)  
hell's torments are sweet slumbers.  exit Harpax Sap. Sap. 
Follow him.  Theo. 
He is distracted, and I must not lose him,  
Thy charms upon my servant cursed witch,  
Gives thee a short reprieve, let her not die  
Till my return.  exeunt Sap. and Theo Anton. 
She minds him not, what object  
Is her eye fixed on?  Macr. 
I see nothing.  Anton. 
Mark her.  Doro. 
Thou glorious minister of the power I serve,  
For thou art more than mortal, is't for me  
Poor sinner, thou art pleased a while to leave  
Thy heavenly habitation? and vouchsafest  
Though glorified, to take my servant's habit,  
For put off thy divinity, so looked  
My lovely Angelo.  Ange. 
Know I am the same,  
And still the servant to your piety,  
Your zealous prayers and pious deeds first won me  
(But 'twas by his command to whom you sent 'em)  
To guide your steps. I tried your charity,  
When in a beggar's shape you took me up  
And clothed my naked limbs, and after fed  
(As you believed) my famished mouth. Learn all  
By your example to look on the poor  
With gentle eyes, for in such habits often  
Angels desire an Alms. I never left you,  
Nor will I now, for I am sent to carry  
Your pure and innocent soul to joys eternal,  
Your martyrdom once suffered, and before it  
Ask any thing from me, and rest assured  
You shall obtain it  Doro. 
I am largely paid  
For all my torments, since I find such grace  
Grant that the love of this young man to me,  
In which he languisheth to death, may be  
Changed to the love of heaven,  Ange. 
I will perform it.  
And in that instant when the sword saeta free  
Your happy soul his shall have liberty.  
Is there ought else?  Doro. 
For proof that I forgive  
My persecutor, who in scorned desired  
To taste of that most sacred fruit I go to  
After my death as sent from me, be pleased  
To give him of it.  Ange. 
Willingly dear Mistress.  Mac. 
I am amazed  Anton. 
I feels a holy fire  
That yields a comfortable heat within me.  
I am quite altered from the thing I was.  
See I can stand, and go alone, thus kneels  
To heavenly Dorothea, touch her hand  
With a religious kiss.  Enter Sapritius and Theophilus. Sapr. 
He is well now,  
But will not be drawn back.  Theoph. 
It matters not,  
We can discharge this works without his help:  
But see your son. Sapr, Villain  Anton. 
Sir I you,  
Being so near our ends divorce us not.  Theo. 
He quickly make a separation of.  
Hast thou aught else to say?  Dorothea. 
Nothing but blame  
Thy tardiness in sending me to rest,  
My peace is made with heaven, to which my soul  
Begins to take her flight, strike, O. strike quickly,  
And though you are un moved to be my death  
Hereafter when my story shall be read,  
As they were present now, the hearers shall  
Say this of Dorothea with wet eyes  
She lived a virgin, and a virgin dies. her head struck off  Anton. 
O take my soul along to wait on mine.  Macr. 
Your son sinks to. Antonius sinks  Sap. 
Already dead.  The. 
Die all.  
That are or favour this accursed Sect,  
I triumph in their ends, and will raise up  
A hill of their dead carcases, to or cloak  
The Pyrenean Hills, but i'll root out.  
These superstitious fools, and leave the World  
No name of Christian.  Loud Music, exit Angelo leaving first laid his hand up. on their mouths. Sap. 
Ha, heavenly Music.  Mac. 
'tis in the air.  The. 
Illusions of the Devil  
Wrought by some one of her Religion.  
That fain would make her death a miracle,  
It frights not me: because he is your son  
Let him have burial, but let her body  
Be cast forth with contempt in some high way,  
And be to Vultures and to Dogs a prey.  Exeunt. 
The end of the fourth Act.   

Actus 5. Scena I.  Enter Theophilus in his study, Books about him. The. 
Is't Holiday (Oh Caesar) that thy servant,  
(Thy Provost, to see execution done  
On these base Christians in Caesarea)  
Should now want work: sheep these Idolaters  
That none are stirring, As a curious Painter Rises.  
When he has made some admirable piece,  
Stands off, and with a searching eye examines  
Each colours how 'tis sweetened, and then hugs  
Himself for his rare workmanship.— So here Sits.  
Will I my Drolleries and bloody Lantskips  
Long passed wrapped up unfold to make me merry  
With shadows, now I want the substances. Books.  
My Muster-book of Hellhounds, were the Christians  
Whose names stand here (alive) and armed, not Rome  
Could move upon her Hinges. What I have done,  
Or shall hereafter, is not out of hate  
To poor tormented wretches, no I am carried  
With violence of zeal, and streams of service  
I owe our Roman gods. Great Britain, what.  
A thousand wives with brats sucking their breasts,  
Had hot Irons pinch 'em off and thrown to swine;  
And then their fleshy backparts he wed with hatchets,  
Were mined and baked in Pies to feed starved Christians. Ha, ha.  
Again, again,— East. Anglas—, oh, East-Angles,  
Bandogs (kept three days hungry) worried  
1000. British Rascals, stied up, fat  
Of purpose, striped naked, and disarmed.  
I could outstare a year of Suns and Moons,  
To sit at these sweet bull-baitings, so I could  
Thereby but one Christian win to fall  
In adoration to my jupiter. twelve hundred  
Eyes bored with Augurs out: oh! eleven thousand  
Torn by wild beasts: two hundred rammed i'th' earth  
Toth' armpits, and full Platters round about'em,  
But far enough for reaching, eat dogs, ha, ha, ha.  
Tush, all these tortures are but phillipings,  
Flea-bitings; I before the destinies  
My bottom did wind up, would flesh myself  
Once more, upon some one remarkable  
Above all these, this Christian Slut was well,  
A pretty one, but let such horror follow  
The next I feed with torments, that when Rome  
Shall hear it, her foundation at the sound  
May feel an Earthquake. How now? Music.  Rise Consort, enter Angelo with a Basket filled with fruit and flowers. Ang. 
Are you amazed Sir— so great a Roman spirit and does it tremble.  The. 
How cam'st thou in? to whom thy business?  Ang. 
To you:  
I had a mistress late sithence by you  
Upon a bloody errand, you entreated  
That when she came into that blessed Garden  
Whither she knew she went, and where (now happy)  
She feeds upon all joy, she would send to you  
Some of that Garden fruit and flowers, which here  
To have her promise saved, are brought by me.  The. 
Cannot I see this Garden?  Ang. 
Yes, if the Master  
Will give you entrance. Angelo vanisheth.  The. 
'tis attempting fruit, and the most bright checked child I ever viewed,  
Sweet smelling goodly fruit, what flowers are these?  
In Dioclesian's Gardens, the most beauteous  
Compared with these are weeds: is it not February?  
The second day she died: Frost, Ice and snow  
Hang on the beard of Winter, where's the sun  
That guilds this summer, pretty sweet boy, say in what Country  
Shall a man find this Garden—, my delicate boy, gone! Vanished!  
Within there, juliarues and Gota.—  enter two servants. Both. 
My Lord.  The. 
Are my gates shut?  1. 
And guarded.  The. 
Saw you not— a boy.  2. 
Where?  The. 
Here he entered, a young Lad, 1000. blessings danced upon his eyes, a smooth faced glorious Thing, that brought this Basket.  1. 
No sir?  exeunt. The. 
Away, but be in reach if my voice calls you,  
No! vanished! and not seen, be thou a spirit  
Sent from that Witch to mock me, I am sure  
This is essential, and howe'er it grows,  
Will taste it.  Enter. Har. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha. Harpax within.  The. 
So good, i'll have some now sure.  Har. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, great liquorish fool.  The. 
What art thou?  Har. 
A Fisherman,  The. 
What dost thou catch;  Har. 
Souls, souls, a fish called souls.  Enter a servant. The. 
Geta.  1. 
My Lord.  Har. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha. Within.  The. 
What insolent slave is this dares laugh at me?  
Or what is't the dog grins at so?  1. 
I neither know my Lord at what, nor whom, for there is none without but my fellow julianus, and he's making a Garland for jupiter.  The. 
jupiter! all within me is not well,  
And yet not sick.  Har. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha. louder.  The. 
What's thy name slave?  Har. 
Go look. At one end.  1. 
'tis Harpax voice.  The. 
Harpax, go drag the Caitiff to my foot,  
That I may stamp upon him.  Har. 
Fool, thou liest. At other end.  1. 
he's yonder now my Lord.  The. 
Watch thou that end  
Whilst I make good this.  Har. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. At the middle.  The. 
he's at barleybreak, and the last couple are now in hell,  exit servant. 
Search for him, all this ground methink is bloody,  
And paved with thousands of those Christians' eyes  
Whom I have tortured, and they stare upon me;  
What was this apparition? sure it had  
A shape Angelical; mine eyes (though dazzled  
And daunted at first sight) tell me, it wore  
A pair of glorious wings, yea they were wings,  
And hence he flew; 'tis vanished, jupiter  
For all my sacrifices done to him  
Never once gave me smile: how can stone smile, music.  
Or wooden Image laugh? ha! I remember  
Such Music gave a welcome to my ear,  
When the fair youth came to me: 'tis in the Air,  
Or from some better place, a power divine,  
Through my dark ignorance on my soul does shine,  
And makes me see a conscience all stained over,  
Nay drowned and damned for ever in Christian gore.  Har. 
Ha, ha, ha. Within.  The. 
Again, what dainty relish on my tongue  
This fruit hath left, some Angel hath me fed,  
If so toothful, I will be banqueted. eats another.  Har. 
Hold.  Enter Harpax in a fearful shape, fire flashing out of the study. The. 
Not for Caesar.  Har. 
But for me thou shalt.  The. 
Thou art no Twin to him that  
Last was here.  
You powers whom my soul bids me reverence  
Guard me: What art thou?  Har. 
I'm thy Master.  The. 
Mine.  Har. 
And thou my everlasting slave; that Harpax,  
Who hand in hand hath led thee to thy Hell  
Am I.  The. 
avaunt.  Har. 
I will not, cast thou down  
That Basket with the things in't, and fetch up  
What thou hast swallowed, and then take a drink  
Which I shall give thee, and i'm gone.  The. 
My Fruit!  
Does this offend thee? see  Har. 
Spit it toth' earth,  
And tread upon it, or i'll piecemeal tear thee.  The. 
Art thou with this affrighted? see, here's more. Flowers.  Har. 
Fling them away, i'll take thee else & hang thee  
In a contorted Chain of icicles  
I'th' frigid Zone: down with them.  The. 
At the bottom,  
One thing I found not yet, see. A cross of Flowers.  Har. 
Oh, I'm tortured.  The. 
Can this do't? hence thou Fiend infernal hence.  Har. 
Clasp Jupiter's Image, and away with that.  The. 
At thee i'll fling that jupiter, for methinks  
I serve a better Master, he now checks me  
For murdering my two daughters, put on by thee,  
By thy damned Rhetoric did I hunt the life  
Of Dorothea, the holy Virgin Martyr,  
She is not angry with the Axe nor me,  
But sends these presents to me, and its 〈◊〉  
o'er world to find her, and from her white hand  
To beg a forgiveness.  Har. 
No, i'll bind thee here.  The. 
I set up a strength above thine: this small weapon methinks is Armour hard enough.  Har. 
Keep from me. Sinkes a little.  The. 
Art posting to thy centre? down hellhound, down,  
Me hast thou lost; that arm which hurls thee hence  
Save me, and set me up the strong defence  
In the fair Christians' quarrel.  Enter Angele. Ang. 
Exit thy foot there,  
Nor be thou shaken with a Caesar's voice,  
Though thousand deaths were in it: and I then  
Will bring thee to a River that shall wash  
Thy bloody hands clean, and more white than Snow,  
And to that Garden where these blessed things grow,  
And to that martyred Virgin, who hath sent  
That heavenly token to thee; Spread this brave wing  
And serve then Caesar, a far greater King.  exit. The. 
It is, it is some Angel, vanished again!  
Oh come back ravishing Boy, bright Messenger,  
Thou hast (by these mine eyes fixed on thy beauty)  
Illumined all my soul, now look I back  
On my black Tyrannies, which as they did.  
Out dare the bloodiest, thou blessed spirit that leads me,  
Teach me what I must do, and to do well,  
That my last act, the best may Parallel.  exit. Enter Dioclesian, Maximinus, Epire, Pontus, Macedon, meeting Artemia, attendants. Art. 
Glory and Conquest still attend upon  
Triumphant Caesar.  Dio. 
Let thy wish fair Daughter  
Be equally divided, and hereafter  
Learn thou to know and reverence Maximinus,  
Whose power with mine united makes one Caesar.  Max. 
But that I fear't would be held flattery,  
The bonds considered in which we stand tide  
As love, and Empire, I should say till now  
I ne'er had seen a Lady I thought worthy  
To be my Mistress.  Art. 
Sir, you show yourself  
Both Courtier and Soldier, but take heed,  
Take heed my Lord, though my dull pointed beauty  
Stained by a harsh refusal in my servant  
Cannot dart forth such beams as may inflame you,  
You may encounter such a powerful one,  
That with a pleasing heat will thaw your heart  
Though bound in ribs of Ice, love still is love,  
His Bow and Arrows are the same, great julius  
That to his successors left the name of Caesar  
Whom war could never tame, that with dry eyes  
Beheld the large plains of Pharsalia, covered  
With the dead carcases of Senators  
And Citizens of Rome, when the world knew  
No other Lord but him, struck deep in years to,  
And men grey haired forget the lusts of youth:  
After all this, meeting fair Cleopatra,  
A suppliant to the magic of her eye,  
Even in his pride of conquest took him captive,  
Nor are you more secure.  Max. 
Were you deformed  
(But by the gods you are most excellent)  
Your gravity and discretion would o'ercome me,  
And I should be more proud in being a Prisoner  
To your fair virtues, then of all the Honours,  
Wealth, Title, Empire, that my sword hath purchased  Dio. 
This meets my wishes, welcome it Artemia  
With outstretched arms, and study to forget  
That Antoninus ever was thy fate  
Reserved thee for this better choice, embrace it.  Ep. 
This happy match brings new nerves to give strength  
To our continued league.  Mace. 
Hymen himself  
Will bless this marriage which we will solemnize  
In the presence of these Kings.  Pon. 
Who rest most happy  
To be eyewitnesses of a Match that brings  
Peace to the Empire.  Diocles. 
We much thank your loves,  
But where's Sapritius our Governor,  
And our most zealous provost good Theophilus?  
If ever Prince were blessed in a true servant,  
Or could the gods be debtors to a man,  
Both they and we stand far engaged to cherish  
His piety and service.  Artem. 
Sir the Governor  
Brooks sadly his son's loss although he turned  
Apostata in death, but bold Theophilus  
Who for the same cause in my presence sealed  
His holy anger on his daughter's hearts.  
Having with tortures first tried to convert her,  
Dragged the bewitching Christian to the scaffold,  
And saw her lose her head.  Dio. 
He is all worthy,  
And from his own mouth I would gladly hear  
The manner how she suffered.  Arte. 
'Twill be delivered  
With such contempt and scorn, I know his nature  
That rather 'twill beget your highness' laughter  
Then the least pity.  Enter Theophilus, Sapritius, Macrinus. Dio. 
To that end I would hear it.  Arte. 
He comes, with him the Governor.  Dio. 
O Sapritius,  
I am to chide you for your tenderness,  
But yet remembering that you are a father,  
I will forget it, good Theophilus  
He speak with you anon: nearer your care, to Sapritius.  Theo. 
By Antoninus' soul I do conjure you,  
And though not for religion, for his friendship,  
Without demanding what's the cause that moves me,  
Receive my signet, by the power of this  
Go to my prisons, and release all Christian  
That are in fetters there by my command.  Mac. 
But what shall follow?  Theo. 
Haste then to the port,  
You there shall find two tall ships ready rigged,  
In which embark the poor distressed souls  
And bear them from the reach of tyranny,  
inquire not whither you are bound, the deity  
That they adore will give you prosperous winds,  
And make your voyage such, and largely pay for  
Your hazard, and your travail: leave me here  
There is a scene that I must act alone.  
Haste good Macrinus, and the great God guide you.  Mac. 
I'll undertake't, there's some thing prompts me to it  
'tis to save innocent blood, a Saintlike act,  
And to be merciful has never been  
By mortal men themselves esteemed a sin.  exit Mac. Dioc. 
You know your charge.  Sap. 
And will with care observe it.  Dio. 
For I profess he is not Caesar's friend  
That sheds a tear for any torture that  
A Christians suffers. Welcome my best servant  
My careful, zealous Provost, thou hast toiled  
To satisfy my will though in extremes,  
I love thee for't, thou art firm rock, no changeling:  
Prithee deliver, and for my sake do it  
Without excess of bitterness or seosses  
Before my brother and these kings, how took  
The Christian her death.  Theo. 
And such a presence  
Though every private head in this large room  
Were circled round with an imperial crown,  
Her story will deserve, it is so full  
Of excellency and wonder.  Diocle. 
Ha! how's this?  Theo. 
O mark it therefore, and with that attention,  
As you would hear an Embassy from heaven  
By a winged Legate, for the truth delivered,  
Both how and what this blessed virgin suffered:  
And Dorothea but hereafter named,  
You will rise up with reverence, and no more  
As things un worthy of your thoughts, remember  
What the canonised Spartan Ladies were  
Which lying Greece so boasts of, your own matrons  
Your Roman dames whose figures you yet keep  
As holy relics in her historic  
Will find a second urn. Gracchus, Cornelia,  
Paulina that in death desired to follow  
Her husband Seneca, nor Brutus Portia  
That swallowed burning coals to overtake him,  
Though all their several worths were given to one  
With this is to be mentioned.  Maximinus. 
Is he mad?  Diocl. 
Why they did die Theophilus, and boldly.  
This did no more.  Theo. 
They out of desperation  
Are for vain glory of an aftername  
Parted with life. This had not mutinous sons  
As the rash Gracchi were, nor was this Saint  
A doting mother as Cornelia was:  
This lost no husband in whose overthrow  
Her wealth and honour sunk, no fear of want  
Did make her being tedious, but aiming  
At an immortal crown, and in his cause  
Who only can bestow it; who sent down  
Legions of ministering Angels to bear up  
Her spotless soul to heaven; who entertained it  
With choice celestial music, equal to  
To the motion of the spheres, she uncompelled  
Changed this life for a better. My Lord Sapritius  
You were present at her death, did you ere here  
Such ravishing sounds?  Sap. 
Yet you said then it was witchcraft,  
And devilish illusions.  Theo. 
I then hard it  
With sinful cares, and belched out blasphemous words  
Against his deity, which then I knew not,  
Nor did believe in him.  Diocl. 
Why dost thou now? or dar'st thou in our hearing?  Theoph. 
Were my voice  
As loud as is his thunder, to be heard  
Through all the world, all potentates on earth  
Ready to burst with rage should they but hear it,  
Though hell to aid their malice lent her furies  
Yet I would speak, and speak again, and boldly,  
I am a Christian, and the powers you worship  
But dreams of fools and madmen.  Maximums. 
Lay hands on him.  Dio. 
Thou twice a child (for doting age so makes thee)  
Thou could it not else thy pilgrimage of life,  
Being almost passed through in the last moment,  
Destroy whate'er thou hast done good or great,  
Thy youth did promise much, and grown a man  
Thou madest it good, and with increase of years  
Thy actions still bettered as the Sun  
Thou did rise gloriously, kepst a constant course  
In all thy journey, and now in the evening  
When thou shouldst pass with honour to thy rest,  
Wilt thou fall like a meteor?  Sapritius. 
Yet confess  
That thou art mad, and that thy tongue and heart  
Had no agreement.  Max. 
Do, no way is left else  
To save thy life Theophilus.  Diocl. 
But refule it  
Destruction as horrid and as sudden  
Shall fall upon thee, as if hell stood open  
And thou wert sinking thither.  Theoph. 
hear me yet  
Here for my service past.  Artem. 
What will he say?  Theo. 
At euer I deserved your favour hear me,  
And grant one boon, 'tis not for life I sue for,  
Nor is it fit that I that ne'er knew pity  
To any Christian, being one myself  
Should look for any: no, I rather beg  
The utmost of your cruelty; I stand  
Accountable for thousand Christians deaths,  
And were it possible that I could die  
A day for every one, then live again  
To be again tormented, t were to me  
An easy penance, and I should pass through  
A gentle cleansing fire, but that denied me,  
It being beyond the strength of feeble nature,  
My suit is you would have no pity on me.  
In mine own house there are a thousand engine  
Of studied cruelty, which I did prepare  
For miserable Christians, let me seel  
As the Sicilian did his brazen bull,  
The horridst you can find, and I will say  
In death that you are merciful.  Dtoc. 
Despair not  
In this thou shalt prevail, go fetch 'em hither, some go for the racks.  
Death shall put on a thousand shapes at once  
And so appear before thee, racks, and whips,  
Thy flesh with burning pincer torn, shall feed  
The fire that heats them, and what's wanting to  
The torture of thy body, I'll supply  
In punishing thy mind: fetch all the Christians  
That are in hold, and here before his face  
Cut'em in pieces.  Theo. 
'tis not in thy power,  
It was the first good deed I ever did,  
They are removed out of thy reach, howe'er  
I was determined for my sins to die,  
I first took order for their liberty,  
And still I dare thy worst.  Diocle. 
bind him I say,  
Make every artery and sinew crack,  
The slave that makes him give the loudest shriek  
Shall have ten thousand Drachmas, wretch i'll force thee  
To curse the power thou worshippest.  The. 
Never, never,  
No breath of mine shall ever be spent on him, They torment him.  
But what shall speak his Majesty or mercy:  
I am honoured in my sufferings, weak tormentors  
More tortures, more: alas you are unskilful,  
For heaven's sake more; my breast is yet untorn:  
Here purchase the reward that was propounded,  
The Irons cool, here are arms yet and thighs,  
Spare no part of me.  Max. 
He endures beyond  
The sufferance of a man.  Sap. 
No sigh nor groan  
To witness he has feeling.  Dio. 
Harder Villains.  Enter Harpax. Har. 
Unless that he blaspheme he's lost for ever,  
If torments euer could bring forth despair,  
Let these compel him to it. oh me  
My ancient enemies again, falls down.  Enter Darothea in a white robe, crown upon her robe, a Crown upon her head, lead in by the Angel. Antoninus, Caliste and Christeta following all in white, but less glorious, the Angel with a Crown for him. The. 
Most glorious vision,  
Did ere so hard a bed yield man a dream  
So heavenly as this? I am confirmed,  
Confirmed you blessed spirits, and make haste  
To take that crown of immortality  
You offer to me; death till this blessed minute  
I never thought thee slow paced, nor could I  
Hasten thee now for any pain I suffer,  
But that thou kepst me from a glorious wreath  
Which through this stormy way I would creep to,  
And humbly kneeling with humility wear it.  
Oh now I feel thee, blessed spirits I come  
And witness for me, all these wounds and scars,  
I die a soldier in the Christian wars. dies.  Sap. 
I have seen thousands tortured, but ne'er yet  
A constancy like this.  Harpax. 
I am twice damned.  Aug. 
Haste to thy place appointed cursed fiend,  
In spite of hell this soldier's not thy prey,  
'tis I have won, thou that hast lost the day.  exit Angele the devil sinks with lightning. Die. 
I think the centre of the earth be cracks,  
Yet I still stand unmoved, and will go on,  
The persecution that is here begun,  
Through all the world with violence shall run.  flourish exeunt:  
FINIS.