THE shepherd's PARADISE. A COMEDY.  
Privately Acted before the Late King Charles by the Queen's Majesty, and Ladies of Honour.  
Written by W. Montague Esq.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Dring at the George in Fleetstreet ne'er St. Dunstan's Church. 1629.   

Gentlemen,  
AFter I had seriously considered how to prepare the Reader to receive this piece, with apprehensions becoming its merit; I discerned myself uncapable to contrive an Ornament beyond the noble name of the admired Author: When I have once entitled it to Mr Walter Montague, & assured it genuine, I conceive the Expression imports an elegy, above the design and reach of the most alluring Commendation. 'Tis known, these Papers have long slept, and are now raised to put on that immortality, which nothing has hitherto deprived them of, but their concealment. They address themselves to the inspired and more refined part of men! Such as are capable to be ravished when they find a fancy bright and high, as the Phoebus that gave it: Such as have experienced those ecstasies and Raptures, which are the very Genius of Poetry; poetry its self being nothing else but a brave and measured Enthusiasm: Such as know, what it is to have the Soul upon the wing (suspending its commerce with clay) reaching a room almost as losty as the proper Scene of Spirits, till warmed with divine flames, it melts itself into numbers as charming as the Harmony of those Spheres it left beneath it: Such as are thus qualified, may here read upon the square; Others will find themselves unconcerned.  
Happy Pen! that hast blest us with such conceptions as render it equally impossible to celebrate, and to imitate: Happy Pen! that hast given the little-God a garment, as soft as the down of his mother's doves.  
This is all, my thoughts commissioned me to say; Except it be, that I am  
Your humble Servant, T.D.   

To his Friend the Stationer, Upon the shepherd's PARADISE.  
IF names can credit Books or make them sell,  
Believe (Friend Stationer) your cause goes well.  
The greatest part of Readers will engage,  
Upon perusal of your Title Page;  
And those that come not in tothth' author's name,  
Will from the beauteous Actors (sure) take flame.  
I am inspired your gain to prophesy,  
Methinks from utmost Inns of Court I see  
Young Amorists smitten with Bellesa's look  
Caught by the Gills, and fastened to your Book.  
But still there does remain a stiffnecked Tribe  
Whom no Repute nor Author's name can bribe;  
Through specious Titles who as easily see  
As through a commonwealth's man's Liberty:  
Doubt such the least; the learned and the wise  
Must needs he took with deep Philosophies  
And dark discourse: at least, good manners says,  
They first should understand it, e'r● dispraise.   

The shepherd's Paradise. A pastoral.  
Saphira 
The Queen.  Bellesa 
The Queen.  Basilino 
My Lady marquis.  Morament 
My Lady marquis.  Agenor 
Mrs. Cecilia Crofts.  Genorio 
Mrs. Cecilia Crofts.  Palante 
Mrs. Cecilia Crofts.  Fidamira 
Mrs. Sophia Carew.  Gemella 
Mrs. Sophia Carew.  Miranda 
Mrs. Sophia Carew.  The King. 
Mrs. Arden.  Pantamora. 
Mrs. Villers.  Camena. 
Mrs. Kirke.  Melidoro. 
Mrs. Howard.  Martyro. 
Mrs. Victoria Carew.  Bonorio. 
Mrs. Beaumond.  Osorio. 
Mrs. Seamer.  Timante. 
My Lady Ann Fielding.  Votorio. 
The Mother of the maids.  Romero. 
Mrs. Seamer.    

THE shepherd's PARADISE.  

The First Act.  Osorio, Timante. Osorio. 
WHat whisper's this Timante, that wakes our Prince out of his amorous slumber, and blows him thus abroad to seek for rest in agitation?  Timante. 
This noise, Osorio, hath past-by my ears; but judge you how unfit to be let into our beliefs. When it must be a woman's virtue that's of proof against such power, youth and honour, as our matchless Prince attempts with; whose repulse must counsel this retreat, and that cannot be, Osorio. Constancy would too much cheapen herself, should she impart such a proportion of virtue unto a woman, when the rarity of it in that sex, is that which hath raised Constancy to such a virtue.  Osorio. 
There's a degree in virtue women may attain to in their defence, that they retain even after they are taken: against Prince's assaults there's nought to be required but a neglect of speedy composition; for taken as it were by assault, they remain with as much honour as women were born to. F●d●mira hath already made such a resistance, that it almost brings the possibility of women's defending themselves against Princes, in question: therefore now even her surrender is a trophy to her, and the gods own the virtuous Princess of Navarr that satisfaction, the dishonour of Fidamira; who, they say, quit her father's Court in a just disdain, to marry one who loved another. I am sorry the Prince is guilty of an injury to so excellent a creature.  Timante. 
They say, Osorio, 'tis Agenor that intercepts Fidamira's love to the Prince; 'tis surely fixed on him.  Osorio. 
If it be so, he is but justly punished, for having set him so, as all things must pass through him to Himself, if his own joys be intercepted by the way; 'tis a strange fortune of a man, Timante, redeemed from death by such a chance, as none can know who gave him life; one, whom but-forgetting, must have killed, ● preserved amongst the fury of a commanded extirpation of mortality; trusted to the rage of common Soldiers, who had paid so much of their own blood for this commission, as it was doubted whether they had enough left to execute it. In this deluge, to see one ●ingle infant saved, was such a miracle to me, as I have not wondered at his succeeding fortune.  Timante. 
It may be, the Prince being a child than did beg his life: believe it, he was more to him then hi● father, as reviving is above begetting; and so loves him with such a supernatural tenderness, above the fondness of a father.  Osor●o. 
But look, Timante, where the Prince and Fimadira come: their looks methinks, imply so little peace, that even their sorrows seem to contend for Mastery.  Timante. 
Come, Osorio, let's retire; we shall know what kind of storm these clouds contain.  The Prince and Fidamira. Basilino. 
Gentle Fidamira, forgive these looks and words that come in a morning to demand Albricias of you for the news; the use I mean to make of this my heaviness, is, but to sink me down unto a level eeven with you, that from thence you may receive your equal not your Prince. I own your virtue my conversion, for in pursuit of that which fled before me up to heaven for safety, my thoughts were raised thither, and detained; and were thus blest for following you, and their intent forgiven. So now I may justlier resume ●he name of Prince thus given by you; and yet preserve disparity between us for my becoming thus a Prince proves you an angel, and that prompts me to a demand which I dare ask, because it is the greatest blessing mortality can taste, and consequently you only can impart; and sure I was not destined to owe you less than all the good that you can give.  Fidamira. 
If I were sad before for one attempted innocence, I might be much more now, for this so general injury to all our sex, in which Sr. you seem to exalt but a resistance of unruly wishes to that height of virtue our sex can rise to. Nothing can be called temptation Sr. to innocence, to make itself a way all's lost in the possessing; but such a virtue as should dare resist a Prince's fair and honourable love, when the yielding is a victory, such a bravery of virtue were a subject worthy of your praise. To what a height of contemplation would such a subject raise your soul, the which the preservation but of innocence hath carried even already into heaven?  Basilino. 
Sure Fidamira's virtue is not ne●re such an extreme; Virtue is always gentle and pliant to the strength of reason. It weakens itself when it hardens into obstinancy. What reason can virtue bring with it, to justify its temper in the neglect of so fit an exercise of itself, as in a Prince his fair and virtuous love?  Fidamira. 
It must produce that which is above all Reason, faith either to the gods or men: virtue preserves her temper in the tenderness of either of these vows; nor can a Prince bring any reason that this virtuous tenderness may not overflow, and not resist.  Basilino. 
Faith to the gods, Fidamira! 'Tis scarce a a good excuse for a despair: how can it then protect a froward contempt of all the joys and blessings the gods ordain for t●ose they represent themselves by? And Faith to men cannot be so religious as not to be subject to so high a dispensation. Might it not thus remit itself, even constancy might seem to be a sin. No Fidamira, the gods have not left such a temptation for Princes to repine, as the permision of such a frowardness to defeat their just desires.  E●damira. 
I wonder not to see a Prince so much mistaken in this virtue, Constancy, that is so free as tyranny enlargeth it. Prince's should do well to prove it to be no virtue, since it may warrant disobedience to them, nor have You that call yourselves the Images of gods, reason to repine, if, in your large commission, they have reserved the sovereignty of o●r wills unto themselves. You then, young Prince, you that have enthroned yourself among the gods, by the confinement of your wishes to be just; know there are none so, that would distress, or much less break, a promised faith.  Basilino. 
By these turning steps I shall wind myself into an admiration, so as I shall not wonder at her refusal; 'tis time to go directly to my wish. I am so humble after my repentance, I do not bring my person, or my birth to claim a joyful acceptation: but allege your virtue and your beauty, to which you own even some constraint to place them in such a light where they may be most conspicuous; which I can pleàd to be preferred by your making me happier than any other.  Fidamira. 
O how blessed am I, that have the means to make so brave a Prince happier than he can wish!  Basilino. 
No more my Fidam●ra. I will not exact a word more than is necessary for a consent.  Fidamira. 
If, Sir, I must expound this happiness unto you, you will not understand it at the first. Else know Sir, I love you so, I joy to think you may leave so new, and an unmatched example of your virtues, as my condition doth afford you. Know Sir, I have deposited my faith, and have received a mutual pawn upon it, and it must be your anger sooner than your love, that must release it. And, were it not a blemish to your innocence, even death would be an ease to mine: but pardon royal Prince even this little digression into a doubt of you. The gods that will not have your virtues called in question by a fear, assure me already you will, by a forgiveness of me, possess yourself of a diviner happiness than can be due by any acquisition.  Basilino. 
O do not mock me thus i● a submiss deluge of the sentence of the justest Heavens, in which you have an Angell's part to be the bearer of it. It is not fit, I should so soon be trusted with that innocence, I am so lately reconciled to; and Heaven will be so just to make the guilty fire of my lust, but-the-refiner of your virtue for another use. But I find Heaven merciful in this, that it would vouchsafe me a miracle for consolation as well as punishment, that an accession of my love to Fidamira, should bring a patience with it to consent to this perpetual distance you have pronounced; all merit to Fidamira. In this separation from myself to this exalted patience, I disclaim, and own my bad humanity in my affliction for my curse; but I will promise you the rest of my sad life to study this hard happiness, which is not at the first so easily understood. But I am afraid the thoughts of you which must be always mixed with my study, must keep it long obscure.  Fidamira. 
O that I were, young Prince, what you have called me but in my excuse, an angel, that I might fly through all the quarters of the World, and with an Angell's voice proclaim the yet-unheard-of virtues of the matchless Basilino. The grossest part of the earth, (where Love's so overgrown with flesh, 'tis not to be known,) would shake itself a pieces at my voice; and Love abstracted, grown itself, would so remain in emulation of your praise, Princes should owe you more than to their nature.  
Which by the easiness it gives them to outdo,  
Makes the harder their out-suffering too▪  
But your example would be a decision for them even in this. And for your part of happiness, you seem not yet to see't. You must know, Sir, this is none of those light-colored joys which fade and sully in the handling; this is one which wearing sets a gloss and lustre on. Which cannot decay but by your leaving of it off. And still the more you think on me, even those sad thoughts will be true shadows to set off your joys.  Basilino. 
I must no longer, Fidamira, trust my infant-virtue against the growing strength of thy beauty which improves in this thy interdiction of them. I'll leave you, Fidamira, and without ask any thing, not so much as, who is that Subject, so much richer than his Prince by the consignement of your faith; And I doubt not but the heavens think me so fully punished as they will ne'er consent▪ to the breach of this my vow, of ever being guilty even of the directest ●olicitation of your love. And some auspicious deity antedeates this ease unto me, the belief that no other man shall ever enjoy the matchless Fidamira.  Fidamira. 
Go worthy Prince, and may you leave me all your sorrows. May your triumphant youth be crowned with such successes in all your future wishes, as that the pleasing multitude may persuade you, you had never failed in any. And may you never remember me, till your glorious life, glutted with praises of outdoing all your sex, may look back on me for a more transcenden●honour by this Mark, of how much you have outdone yourself, and so present you with an unhoped for joy, which is the only retribution I can hope to make you. Till then, let me, and sin, be at a distance from your thoughts.  Basilino. 
Farewell, fair maid, you shall soon hear of resolutions shall some way deserve those good wishes you have now advanced.  Fid●mira. 
May all the blessings which I would wish you, which are unexpressible, fall down as wonders on you.  Agenor, sol●s. 
The Prince stayed long with Fidamira, and is now going hastily to the King his father. His looks methinke imply some strange resolve. He purposed now to make his last attempt, and to venture even his crown to take my Fi●amira, whose virtue's such, as I believe her beauty was bestowed upon her, to prove a trial of it worthy of her glorying in. And the earth hath not a fit than the just offers of this worthy Prince.  O here he comes. Basilino, hastily Basilino. 
O Agenor, had I now leisure equal to my sense of Fidamira's goodness, I should not defer a minute from the making thee admire her. She hath made me happier than I did hope. I am resolved, Agenor, and I have already so disposed my father▪ as I believe the second time will carry his consent: come Agenor, let's not lose a minute.  Agenor. 
Stay I beseech you Sir a while, that I may be acquainted with your will, and so know how to argue for you.  Basilino. 
Come away Agenor, I'll tell you as I go, The King may intent to employ your credit with me to dissuade me, but I'll convince you by the way. I shall but reel along, between my shaking fear and shaking trust of Fidamira.  The King, Osorio, Timante. 
Leave us all! How much allay have all Prince's treasures in them? even those that they are ordained to coin themselves for blessings, their children, even these rich Images do sometimes prove burdens, not treasures to them: I am in this distress. The name of King which doth exalt the blessings of a Father is only that which doth forbid me the indulgence of a common parent. Were he entirely mine I could let my judgement fall into a complacency of this his wish: but as I am but as it were his guardian to account to all my kingdom for him, I must not consent to expose this State to such a hazard as his absence, when I stand as it were propped up by him. I am resolved to offer him rather to quit the thought of the Princess of Navar●e, and to give him my consent to marry Fidamira, whom they say he loves with a passion able to control his reason, much more his follies.  Basiling, Agenor. King. 
I have, my Basilino, been so affected with thy wishes, as when by the enquiring of my collected thoughts I could find no reason to approve of thy intended separation from us, I did addict them all to search for an excuse of the indulgency of my consent. And thou art so unhappy in thy birth as I have multitudes to satisfy, on whom wisdom itself can seldom have its operation; much less a natural ●●●dernesse can move against it. In what a strange distress am I, whom reason doth appoint to displease him in this world I love the best, for others satisfaction, for my own interests, which are such as I cannot repeal, without reproaching Basilino of unnaturalness, in preferring of his fancies so before them, I will by silence give him leave to pass by, and remit them all into his power as a suitor, not a Judge, and for my part do make him King of this his wish by my consent.  Basilino. 
Oh Sir.  King. 
Hold Basilino, I made you thus a King, that you might have somewhat to give worthy a Father's ask, and that the deposition of this your wish might be by your gift to me, not my refusal of it. And now I do conjure you, Basilino, by the power of a King, that hath deposed himself, rather to pray than to command, to change this your desire of leaving us, into any other you can think of, and stay here; and by the gods we wish may move you; with us, the agreement to it shall be esteemed a blessing to us.  Basil. 
O that the angry gods would pity me so much, that I might now obey you in a fatal silence. It is not a feathered fancy that carrieth me to fly above my will, but a weighty misfortune that bears me down before you, to demand ease for my oppression, which I must have some time and distance to discharge myself of. Nor hath my curse been so defective in any circumstance, as to distract me quite, and so free me from the sense of all your interests; but it seems to admit an unsensibleness of all my own, to keep me wholly from the survey of you, whose contradiction of my ease is the refinedst torment. But I could provide, by engagement to you, Sir, against any important prejudice my absence may but threaten; if I might hope as well to l●ighten that weight, I should else think too heavy to strive under. I could acquaint your Majesty with my arrival, and my residence in every several place, and by my promise to return upon any summons, should import but even your fears, secure you from any prejudice of my distance, which I would condition should not be out of the limits of France or Spain. Now, Sir, have pity of one whom you have robbed of praise, by making him a King against his will; and this submission of myself unto your will, think a sacrifice worthy of a father and a King to value. And for your large offer, Sir, I am so reduced, I had but this one to ask of you, the which to ease you, I am content to deny myself.  Exit the Prince, sadly. Agenor stays. King. 
O Agenor, Is not Basilino unjust to add unto my sorrows, by his sharing with me in them? Into what a parallel of misery are we both come, by thus our meeting one another?  Agen. 
In this agreement, Sir, where your misfortunes meet and not your wishes, a subject may interpose himself and break off the accord. I do not see Sir, how the hazard of the Prince's desires equall's that of yours; you endanger Sir, the los●e of your own wish in the possessing it, for you shall rather keep a Prisoner then a Son; and by his Liberty▪ on those conditions he hath proposed, you shall be more secured than by his Residence: your people by the fame of Him from all neighbouring nations shall think he is a Prince of them too, and therefore fear you more. My opinion is you consent to his first choice, upon those terms he desires to take it.  King. 
There is, Agenor, such a darkness spread over Basilino as ore-casts my reason, and clears up his to me; methinks I see this his obedience set too heavy on him, as it oppresseth me, for whom he offers to sink under it. No, Basilino, thou shalt not thus acquit thyself of all those obligations, I can challenge as a Father and a King, by this out-suffering all the benefits that ever those names can ●'re confer.  Enter Basilino. King. 
Throw off, my Basilino, the supposition of those clouds which hang upon Thee, thou art deceived if thou believest thy looks are dark, or overcast. The bright obedience of thy soul, shines through them, and hath dissolved those clouds that shadowed me into these drops; which fall but now like sunshine showers in sign of fair weather: therefore now upon this condition of thy so full obedience, I may venture, Basilino, to command thee any thing, and I will keep thee in the exercise of this thy virtue; therefore I command thee now to enjoy thy first choice, thy intended travel upon what conditions thy own discretion shall make when thou art gone, and not before; It were a sin not to reward thy duty with full Liberty, rather than engage it, and in all that's left to me to express a trust of thee I shall, which is in this, not to inquire the cause of this thy resolution; but believe it is fit for thee to act, then me to ask. I have only this to demand of thee, that thou wouldst not make me so impoverished by this grant, that I have nothing else to give to Basilino. Accept of my first offer added to thy choice, and leave me some request even as a benefit to engage thee by my performance of it to thee like observance of my latest will, which I shall wish no other prosecution of, by Basilino, than that the world shall find me of his imparted wishes in his absence.  Basilino. 
I must again in this removed extreme wish for silence to comprise an answer which no words can carry. You have been, Sir, so exact in this your blessing, as you have put it into a name that doth improve it▪ my obedience. You are, Sir, now so enriched in this your liberality, as I can ask you now a blessing almost equal to your first, the protection of the heavenly Fidamira. In which I dare boast some retribution of your benefits, having in her given you a subject for the exercise of all the worth & virtue that even you are King of. Then, Sir, your leave to part immediately with Agenor only, that this your gracious gift may be extraordinary in every point. That the grant and the receipt may be together: and I the sooner may begin to praise the divinity of this your goddess,  King. 
Stay and take these blessings with thee. If it be fame hath pressed thee by giving thee in hand already a share of public honour, may thy successful daring carry thee so soon to such a height of true renown, as thou mayst quickly be so much above the praise of personal activeness, as even honour itself may soon restrain thee to command: And may that send thee home to this I keep but for thee. If it be Love's attractiveness that drives thee from us, Mayst thou obtain unknown, without the help of any title shown which master thou give her in reward, not condition. What e'er it be that parts us Basilino, let it be thine own success, and not my distress, that may bring us soon to meet. For Fidam●ria; you shall not be able to go so far, nor so concealed, but my strange care of her shall be told you as the wonder of the time.  Basilino. 
The consciousness of myself of being your son is an advantage ●am scrupulous of in my undertaking, and I shall not so distrust myself, as to seek more by my professing it. It is a title Sir I will leave here, and you shall not hear you have a son abroad but by my obedience to any of your Summons, upon which I kiss your royal hands.  King. 
I must look off this parting. With all my blood far well. Agenor, I look to hear from you of Basilino, what's unfit from him.  Agenor. 
Best of Kings and fathers, remain in peace, till the loud glories of your son, repay you these in tears of joy.  Exeunt Prince and Agenor. King. 
Do any of you know where Fidamira lives?  Timante. 
I do, Sir.  King. 
Go then presently, and take some of the guard with you, and bring her hither with all honour, and no show of violence.  Timante. 
I shall, Sir. Exeunt.  Enter Fidamira. Fidamira. 
'Tis strange this sudden resolution of the Prince! Sure this is that he told me I should hear of, when he went away.  Enter Agenor. Agenor. 
The life of man protracted to a miracle were yet too short to tell the wonder of thy faith, much more that instant is but left me now for admiration of it. The Prince is instantly resolved to leave his father's kingdom, and hath obtained his leave. And hath chosen me the only partner of his thoughts, and his companion in his mean disguise. So as heaven finding thy virtue such as it might easily draw into a miracle, resolved to raise it more eminence by this farther trial. And I for this their end am punished with love, and trust of Basilino.  
The time we had resolved for consummation of our wishes we must now differr till our return. Sure Fidamira thou hast refined thyself so near Divinity, thou art above the being enjoyed by sense. And it were insolence in me to hope for such a temptation in this absence, as you have met with, but even the love of Queens is not so impossible as my embracing it. The Prince's parting doth depend on nothing now but my return. Which he is almost as impatient of, as I of staying here; which is a blessing I repine so much to leave, as I have need of't.  Fidamira. 
It is a strange resolve, Agenor: there is a transcendency in that young man above the fate of Princes, and could any action endear Agenor to me, it should be Basilino's trust. For the differing of our wishes, the occasion is so strange, it doth import the will of heaven. And for the trial of my faith it is too easy, and assured a thing for heaven to intent, if heaven meaneth a miracle in mine, it must by its entireness after the breach of yours which to me would seem such a miracle, I should not wonder though my own should be preserved for my affliction.  
But this sad Digression hath no reason for it, but the distracted sense of your departure. Go then, Agenor, and serve that glorious Prince with such successful faith, as he may think, at your return, not knowing of our loves by the opinion of thy faith, that nature meant our faith's only to match one another, and for improvement of our joys, he may have his share in the bestowing them; stay not for any thing but for a confirmation of my wish.  Agenor. 
How opportune a blessing is this last command of Fidamira's? by which she doth appropriate my faith so solely to herself as she applies my duty to the Prince as meritorious unto her, I can now serve the Prince with such a rare uninterested faith, it shall not wish for recompense, having already more reward than he can give the will of Fidamira. Which the Gods keep for a reward of all his glorious deeds at his return, in giving him but even as much to give to Fidamira as his consent unto her will. Which as the consummation of his glories, and our joys, I must expect. And now by losing of your hands, let fall this partition which they yet hold up. And in this darkness pray our hearts may not lie long under the whole weight of love they now must bear, but that our joys may be restored to ease them.  Fidamira. 
Mine shall turn inward all their light upon my thoughts, which shall be polished as they shall still answer one another with the reflex of my Agenor's Image.  Agenor. 
Move Fidamira now, and let's with equal steps fall thus from one another, while this earth we tread by interposing of its self between thy light and me, shall shadow out this dark Eclipse.  Enter Basilino in his disguise Basilino. 
It is no injury to Fidamira to leave her where I have put off myself. I find a yielding in my genius to the curiosity of passing by the shepherd's Paradise, to which peaceful harbour I have heard of such a strange repair o wracked and hopeless fortune's, as the distress hath proved a blessing.  Enter Agenor. Basilino. 
Here comes Agenor not yet fitted for our journey. Have you taken your leave of my Sister, Agenor? did she not cry? she is fond of you.  Agenor. 
She is pleased with me Sir as the object of your goodness.  Basilino. 
I'll advise with him. You eome, Agenor, opportunly to vote in a cause concerns you too. Whether we may take fitly this opportunity to see the shepherd's Paradise as we pass forwards to Navarr. I can have admission by a blank of my fathers with a warrant for it▪ and the time of the election of the Queen, which is every year the first of May, is now within three days. What says Agenor?  Agenor. 
I do believe it, Sir, a curiosity worthy of an entire purpose. Therefore not to be omitted, lying in the way of our design, which cannot be better begun than by the information of yourself in such a variety, as all foreign nations do admire, as it were a heavenly Institution that extends itself to all strangers, whose births are such, as may be worthy fortunes prosecution, and the distress seem so desperate as it may bring honour to the remedy. And this may prove, Sir, your nearest way unto your journeys end, the forgetting Fidamira. For, sure Sir, beauty is soon worn out of our memories by the imposition of new weight upon it, and so the last presseth away the former. And fame tellssuch wonders of this place, as sure it is rather a religious fear than your father's guard, secures their solitude from the invasion of nations on the pretence of adoration. And it may be Sir, the gods will not indebt you for so much as the composition of your broken mind, to any nation but your own.  Basilino. 
It must be Atheism in love, not change of my Religion; it must be that belief which I resolve that Beauty is but an Idea, not to be enjoyed but by imagination; and by this Atheism must I be saved, Agenor.  Agenor. 
there's nothing, sure Sir, so impossible to be enjoyed as your enjoying this opinion long, unless you could refine yourself into an Idea abstracted from your flesh. You must not only lose your memory, but all your senses, to retain this new opinion. Can you think, Sir, beauty was never enjoyed?  Basilino. 
Never, Agenor. There is no Lover's soveraign-fancy that will not confess that Beauty is so set up, as 'tis even above his highest thoughts and to endear his thoughts allegeth an impossibility of thinking height enough. Can our sense then, Agenor, get up such a pitch, where even our fancy flatts into an excuse?  Agenor. 
These are but Love's raptures, that sometimes carry beauty above sense. In any kind it were injustice to require of our senses the carrying of us above ground, when they were not ordained to fly. Their motion is towards fixt-materiall-objects, which they can reach, and are not bound to comprehend Lover's descriptions, that enlarge beauty into a spaciousness, where it loseth itself, because it cannot be compassed. Take this rule Sir, Sense is not bound to follow any thing out of sight, and within those bounds it can enjoy all it meets.  Basilino. 
Well Agenor, we shall have leisure to discourse of this, as we go: let's set forward then towards the shepherd's Paradise. We must change our names. I'll call myself Moramante.  Agenor. 
And I'll change my name into Ge●orio: we must make haste Sir, the journeys equal the days we have left for them.  King, Osorio, Timante? King. 
Are the lodgings prepared as I commanded!  Timante. 
They are Sir, you are obeyed in all things.  King. 
When Fidami●a comes, bring her in; forbear till then. I must do her some honour may be so sudden, so strange, as may o'er take Basil●no before he can get out of our kingdom.  F●damira all in black, led by Osorio and Timante▪ the King looks amazedly on her at the fi●st. King. 
I thought I might be tempted to own some power to oblige such a creature, on whom nature seems to glory to have bestowed all her●. Yet I will not be so unjust to the departed Bas●l●n●, as to appropriate any thing I am to deliver to you. For in his Will he hath left you all that I can give you. Neither could I have believed, it could have been so difficult the being Executor to a Prince. For I find more due to you than he could bequeath, or I dispose unto you. Therefore be pleased, fair maid, to ease me so much, as to name your wishes; since you have reduced a King to the belief of having nothing worthy of you, and therefore dares not choose for you.  Fidamira. 
If the departed Prince Sir, have in his Will bequeathed any thing to pious uses, to purchase prayers for his success, and fair return, your Majesty will prove an improvident disp●n●er of them in the choice of me, whose devotion is already kindled in so pure a flame as interest would dim it, and not nourish. And even my wishes, Sir, are all so clear from any stain, of self advantage, as they are such as your Majesty cannot possess me of.  King. 
●ll 〈◊〉 Fidamira, my impotency as a King in the disposing any thing so worthy; and yet beg the knowledge of thy will in a more powerful name, a servant unto Fidamira. And● by the virtue of that name believe myself enforced to a captivity of any thing that ●he ●●all wish.  Fidamira. 
You have already Sir furnished me with an unlooked for wish, the expiation of the guilt your proclamation of yourself hath cast upon me.  
I had another Sir so innocent, as it was fit for you to join, though you could not grant, the Prince his soon return, so crowned with his desires, as he may think he brings more joy with him, than even your crown can promise him. And this is Sir, my only wish. And it is so propitious to me, as it makes your Majesty all the return I can e'er hope, for those your offered benefits, the wishing of you all increase of joys and glories.  King. 
Do not wonder Fidamira at the title I took on me. I spoke to you in Basilino's name, and it was not unproper, in the performance of his will to use his name. And I am afraid, I shall too truly take upon me. The wish which you have chosen, hath so indebted me unto you, as I must speak something now in my own name, and retract the promise I had made to Basilino, to possess myself of all my power, which I think yet too little to tempt thy modesty to the choice of any thing it doth contain. But do not Fidamira in duty to your King, reduce him to repine at his condition, in having nothing to present you with, but wishes back again.  Fidamira. 
In all humility and reverence to your power Sir, I thus fall down to beg of you, and that which only as a King you can bestow, liberty. Which I have chosen as the greatest blessing Kings are trusted with, to satisfy your majesty in the obligation you desire to mark me with. And I trust so much to your goodness, as I think I need not bring the gods to plead for my dismission, whose cause hath furnished me with this ●ute unto your Majesty; the performance of some vows, which will require privacy to perfect: and thus your Majesty shall set me at Liberty, that am yet in bonds unto my vows.  King. 
You have made so strange a choice▪ ●●damira, as the unwilling giving it endears the gift, and that which doth persuade me most unto this grant, is, that you shall take from me that, which is dearer to me than all you leave me, your company; and while you do avoid the merit of my actions, you cannot disappoint my sufferings of some desert unto you.  
Therefore you shall choose what place agree● best with your intent. If you will accept this palace, I'll leave it to you, and your privacy shall be secured to you by a guard, that shall not come so n●●re you, as to let you know you have a house. Choose what Temple you like best, and the entrance shall be denied to any other, that no impure breath may mix with yours. But Fidamira, these your devotions perfected, I shall expect you do accept our Court for Sanctuary to that saintlike innocence shines about you. It were impiety to let you live in the crowd of common persons and your own piety will enjoin you to allow my daughter your companion, as a pattern for virtuous youth.  Fidamira. 
It would be to me Sir, a retreat out of myself, to be any where but in my father's house. Wither I beseech you Sir, I may have leave to return, and remain some few days; after which, I shall obey your Majesty, with that devotion which is due to those, whose Image you are; believing Sir, you will command nothing, but what shall be meritorious to obey you in.  King. 
You shall be Fidamira reconducted to your father's house, and there remain undisturbed, till your own pleasure gives me admission to you.  
Who waits without?  Enter Osorio, Timante. 
Carry back again Fidimira to her father's house.  Timante. 
How hath this face displeased the King, tha● was resolved, before he saw her, to lodge her in the palace with such prepared honour, as raised all the Court in to a wonder of the cause? Methinks, I find now more than e●re I ●ould have guessed. Exeunt.  Exeunt all but the King. King. 
O what a mock was this, to ask me liberty while she was captivating me? I had not so much power left, as to keep her here, when she would go. She is so much already mistress of my will, as she disposeth of it even against itself. Whither shall I repair for Liberty, that am besieged by my own guard these traitorous eyes? I must condemn them to perpetual darkness, or they'll betray me to such a light, as will darken all my other senses, even by the inflammation of them. Will Love be content with no less Trophy, than the inversion even of Nature, ●●●ning the branches down into the ground, and ●ake the roots to bud and blossom in the air? Must Love needs have a garland of such prodigious flowers? Now Basilino I find, thou hast left me somewhat to do f●r thee, worthy of a King to brag of, the wrestling with these passions for thy sake, which else I shall im●●●ce, and let into my heart, as an enlargement of it, and my life.  
But I will so allay this heat,  
By taking Thee into its seat.  
As it still shall be withstood,  
As if I lived but by thy blood.   

Act the Second.  Pantamora, Camena, Melido●o, Martiro, Vo●orio, Genorio, Bel●eza, and all the shepherdesses. Belleza chosen Queen. Pantamora delivering the Crown to Votorio. Panta. 
ANd I into your hands resign, The Sphere wherein our Majesty doth s●ine. Which moved and governed by a heavenly force, Thus every year doth terminate its course.  Votor. 
The gods, Bellese, by the voices of your sisters have chose you Queen, and you must now tak● your Throne, with this Oath I am to give you, for the fair observance of all those conditions you are trusted with this Crown upon. Which are the faithful executions of the laws, we live under and reign over.  Read the Oath. Bel. 
Give me leave, fair Sisters, while I am yet myself, before I do become your Creature, and so more obliged to wonder at your goodness, to renounce all merit to this honour; unless the being surprised by it may pass for any, which if my person do not prove enough, my foreign birth will certify much more. Which as it will advance me towards your particular civilites, must needs remove me from the pretention of this eminence amongst you.  
Therefore your former favours can only give a reason for this excuse, that to recover the desperate debt I own you all, you have resolved to lend me more, so to 〈◊〉 me to make a retribution may comprise them all, and for this end I may avow a joy in this your choice: which I shall study so to justify your judgements in, by the complying both with the obligations of your debtor, and your Queen, as when I shall resign that, I shall have purchased one I shall esteem as much, a creditor to you all.  Cam. 
We too Bellesa are deputed in the name of all, to assist the ceremony of your Oath, and the publication of the laws.  Vot. 
Proceed Bellesa to the reading of the Oath.  Bel. 
By beauty, Innocence, and all that's fair,  
I Bellesa as a Queen do swear,  
To keep the honour, and the regal due,  
Without exacting any thing that's new.  
And to assume no more to me than must  
Give me the means, and power to be just.  
And but for charity and mercy's cause,  
Reserve no power to suspend the laws.  
This I do vow, even as I hope to rise,  
From this, into another Paradise.  Vot. 
When your highness hath possessed your Throne, I must begin to read the Laws.  Bellesa ascends the Throne, and Votorio reads. 
That the Queen is to be elected the first of May, every year, by the plurality of the sister's voices; from which election the Brothers are excluded.  
That the Queen must be aged under thirty, and beauty to be most regarded in the election.  
That both the Brothers and Sisters must vow chastity and single life, while they remain of the Order; and the breach of this Law is to be punished with death.  
That every year at the election of this Queen, what Brothers or Sisters shall desire to retire out of the ●rder upon design of Marriage; shall then upon their demand be licenced, and at no other time.  
That the Queen shall admit of none into the Order but one every year by grace, the rest upon publication of their pretence; which must be, either a vow of chastity, which is not ever to be dispensed with; or the verification of some misfortune, worthy the charity of this honourable Sanctuary, which all the Sisters and Brothers are to be Judges of.  
That there is no propriety of any thing among the Society, but a community of all which the world calls riches and possessions.  
That detraction from the honour of a Sister, without proof, is to be punished with the penalty enacted for that fault.  
That no brother or sister shall ever go out of the limits of the kingdom, but by a final dismission.  
That no such shall ever be received again upon any pretence.  
That strangers shall be admitted only by the grace of the Queen, or by particular warrant from the King. And upon no condition stay above three days.  Vot. 
These be the laws your Majesty is sworn to protect. And now, I in the name of all the blessed Society bow in obedience to you.  Cam. 
We in the name of all the Sisters, salute you Queen, and beg to leave the seal of all our duties in your royal hands.  They kiss her hands. Vot. 
Now Madam, after an hour's r●st, the Order requires your majesty to repair to the Temple, there to perfect all the Ceremony.  Bel. 
I can have no such rest, Votorio, as on my knees before the Gods; for I have yet a greater blessing to implore of them then this they have bestowed; their propitiousness towards my discharge of what they have imposed upon me.  
Princes Votori● have no less,  
To pay the Gods, than to possess.  
What are those strangers?  Vot. 
They are admitted Madam, by special warrant from the King.  Exeunt, All but morament 〈◊〉 Genorio, morament p●lle Votori● back. Mor. 
If you have leisure to allow us so welcome a civility, as to satisfy a Stranger's curiosity, you may oblige us in acquainting us, what the Queen said of us.  Vot. 
My profession, and your habit Sir, enjoins me both to this: and after I have satisfied you in this demand, to offer you my service, in easing you of any curiosity, this place hath put upon you.  
The Queen desired to know only who you were, and how admitted, which I gave her an account of, as far as my knowledge led me.  
Which was no farther than your admission by the King's Letters.  Mo●. 
The limitation Sir, which is upon the stay of strangers here, where curiosity is fed so much fuller than it can swallow, much less digest, might excuse an importunate detention of any one but you Sir whose habit renders you so necessary to the resid●n●s, as it were a sacrilege to rob them of your time.  Vot. 
At it is a pious work, the distribution of hospitable civility▪ I am the pr●p●rest you could have met Sir, to pay the ingeniousness of your curiosity with the knowledge of any thing you can ask here.  Morame●te. 
Since this civility may be meritorious to you sir, I shall the willing p●t ●ou to the exercise of it And first I would gladly ●no● the antiquity of the instituted regality, with the occasion of it, and the rest of the particulars of this place which my Ignorance cannot furnish me with questions for.  Votorio. 
The ingenuousness of this institution is such, as we may joy we own it not unto antiquity. It derives itself no higher than this King's grandfathers time, who had a daughter called Sabina, a Lady of that strange beauty and perfections, as this, was but one of the miracles she left us to admire her by. The virtue of her resolution takes off much from the wonder of her wit. Which seems to have remained imperious and not flexible to her distress. She was sought by two Princes, The Dolphin of France, and the Prince of Navarr: whose passions seemed so equal, as the most powerful could not bear ● denial, and the weaker found himself so armed by his passion as he despised the anger, which the power of France had vowed against him, if he were preferred. Sabina's inclination to Navarr drew down the power of mighty France, upon this Prince of Vallance. But the hope of fair Sabina which he seemed to think himself a gainer by, after the loss of most of his country. Then Sabina, whom it seems the love of virtue only had made partial to Navarr, found the way to exalt her virtue more, then by persisting against difficulties which seemed to take off from the glory of it, by the abatement it procured where it intended an advantage. And so fearing left his sufferings might raise his virtues to such an estimation, as he might be thought to have●d served her, and so the matching of herself might lessen her, resolved to take the glory wholly with the sufferings to herself. And so sent to the victorious Dolphin (●hat had already made himself Prince of Navarr, and bragged that with that title he would woe S●b●●a) her promise that upon condition of his restoring Navarr unto the Prince, and swearing future, peace, she would never marry the Prince of Navarr. The Dolphin whose success had nourished his love with hope even in Sabina's direct denials, swallowed this as an assurance of his wish, without examining the words, believing his own flattering omen more security than even Sabina's promise. He accepted the conditions, and presently restored all his conquests though the Prince refused the treaty, and the future peace. Yet he instantly performed all that Sabina asked, who now resolved to publish the performance of her vow. 'Twas sure the gods that did infuse these thoughts, for a reward of so supreme goodness, and made the monument of her admiration a Sanctuary for distressed virtue, so to convey to future times a blessing with the memory of her. She begged of her father leave to make a vow of chastity and desired a propriety of this place as her dowry; which nature seems to have made of such unmatched delightfullnesse, as if she had meant to brag, that she made a stage onearth worthy of Sabina's acting on this her divinest part.  
Hither then by the consent of her indulgent father, Sabina came, attended by many Nobles of both sexes, whom love to Sabina, or admiration of the action brought with her. Of which she made this Order. And authorised by her father, erected this regal government, and enacted all the laws you have heard read; which have been so inviolably kept, as a punishment here would seem a wonder. She enjoyed the regality during her life, and then left the propriety of all unto the Queen. Who is eligible as you have heard. The peace and settledness of this place is secured by nature's enclosure of it on all sides by impregnableness, as if it were only for chastity to make a plantation here. At one passage only, the rocks seem to open a way of themselves, so as to let in the King's care in a garrison. Which he maintains for safety of the place, which delivers all strangers to us as suitors, not invadors. Thus Sir I have informed you of the institution of the order of the shepherd's, which is called by the foundress, The shepherd's Paradise As being a 〈◊〉 receptacle of distressed minds, and a Sanctuary against fortune's severest executions. Now Sir, I must needs tell you the generous end of the Prince of Navarr▪ that you may see, there was nothing accessary to this heavenly Institution that had not such a transcendent newness of bravery as they seem made for such a divine novelty. The Prince as it seems hating the earth, whose safety had occasioned the loss of Sabina, In scorn of it forsook it, and came hither in a disguise.  
And was admitted into the Order, where he lived concealed, and dying without making himself known unto Sabina; but at his death, left such a notorious memory as all ages shall study to display, and put it to the royalest ornaments can be due to Princes. The Queen ordained a particular ceremony to be performed every year at his Tomb, which is justly observed.  Morament. 
This is so heavenly a tradition, as it becomes best our delivery. This order seems a match between love, and honour, and chastity, which you are happy sir in being the priest to. But give me leave to wonder, why the brothers are excluded out of the election, which is to be guided most by beauty, of which sure they be the best Judges.  Votorio. 
The reason Sir, that I have heard was then given by the foundress, That it had been to have made them Judges in their own causes. Since there is none but hath a particular interest that doth prepossess his choice. Whereas all women are rather Inquisitors, than admirers of one another. And being void of passion, no friendship can incline them to yield priority in beauty. And so 'twas thought most probable, that where most of them agreed to yield, the advantage must be unquestionable.  Morament. 
The wisdom, Sir, of the foundress was such, as it carries away our admirations, even with this our prejudice. I have one more satisfaction to desire of you, which the omission of, I do believe, in your opinion might render me unworthy of these I do already owe, the knowledge of your new Queen's condition, and the time of her admission, with her pretence.  Votorio 
'Tis not above a year since she was received so, that, had she not had such a transcendent beauty, as might have endured the abatement of the envy, which so sudden an election might have taken from her, and even after that deduction have remained incomparable, sure she had not been chosen Queen. It was thought Pantamora the precedent Queen▪ would have been relected. She is by birth a stranger, of some part of France. And brought with her marks of noble birth. Her pretention was an intention of her father to dispose of her to a person of great wealth and quality, who then loved another so passionately, as the contestation with his father about his consent was so loud, as the voice of it came to the Lady's ears. Who moved, as she said then, with the true honour of her sex, resolved rather out of due to her perfections then pride of them, not to expose them to such an undervaluation, as the dispute of being enjoyed. Therefore left she her father's house and repaired to this Sanctuary for protection of her beauty, which was in danger of profanation. This was received of all as an acceptable plea for her admission, as a triumph that beauty had got by flying. She hath lived here ever since with so winning a modesty, as it hath so reconciled the plurality of the sisters to the strangeness of her birth and beauty as h●r chocie may be ascribed to an inspiration from above, rather than her aspiring thither.  Morament. 
You may well ascribe it to the gods sir, the merit seems to be so well proportioned to the reward and the sex is happy to have such an acquittance for the debt they own to the Lady, as a Crown. We never met a greater tentation to uncivil detention, than the pleasingness of your conversation. Therefore wonder 〈…〉 we cannot retire from you; we have two days yet to st●● & we shall wait upon you before our retreats from hence.  Votorio. 
There's nothing Sir, but my public duty could call me away from my attendance on you. It is a part of my duty the entertainment of strangers, so to secure the privacy of the society.  Morament. 
I perceive the Institution hath so provided for the societies self possessing, it hath not left so much as an omission to employ them in the redressing of. We shall not fail to address ourselves to you to receive as much comfort at our departure, as the sorrow will admit of, which will be, Your blessing.  Votorio. 
Sir, I must leave that now with you.  Exit Votorio. Morament. 
What say you Genorio, are you not indebted to this digression of my curiosity?  Genor. 
Take not upon you the digression sir, It was some infusion from above. But doth your curiosity carry you farther yet? doth not this place promise you the diversion you seek, from thinking on Fidamira? Here you may have choice, either the remedy I prescribed; or that which you intended, the admission of new beauty to displace that, or you may harden yourself by the neglect of this into such a habit of insensibleness, as you may be of proof against all temptation.  Morament. 
Had not my vow Genorio a much nobler aim than my own, I might consent to let it fall here, and break even to humour thee, so little I esteem myself. But I have pointed it at the expiation of a guilt, that doth so darken me, as the neglect of beauty might now seem a curse of blindness on me. But when I have cleared myself of that, than Genorio I will return, even thither if thou wilt, with opened eyes, to let thee see my quarrel to myself is greater than love can reconcile, in living so unmoved with beauty, as Fidamira's suit to me shall not unsettle me.  Gen. 
I can imagine no quarrel you can have to yourself but one, which this your resolution of unsensibleness of beauty must compose, the misfortune of the Princess of Navarre, whose repair you cannot render so much void of sense of beauty.  Mor. 
'Tis that, Genorio, which must value this my penance, the prostitution to her only for pardon, not reward. I will seek her to add one glory more to her, the forgiving me, and when I have but seen her, leave there my guilt, and take in place of it, the punishment of never seeing of her more. Methinks, Genorio, had I but once paid my devotion to her hands, I should then rest absolved in peace.  Gen. 
Look Sir, how we are blest; the Queen comes this way, and the Priest leading Her. Let's stand by.  Enter the Queen and shepherdess going towards the Temple. Vot. 
Madam, these stranger's curiosity assure me, they would be displeased to leave any privilege uninjoyed. If your Majesty shall please to give the honour of your hand to their welcome.  Queen. 
What Country men are they?  Vot. 
Castilians, Madam.  Morament and Genorio, kiss the Queen's hand. Queen. 
This place is civil only in making all strangers, of what ever Nation that are not residents; and for that, that there are none that are not so to virtue and to honour.  Exeunt, Queen and Shepherdesses. Gen. 
I am not yet so fast but I can fly,  
And only to preserve my Faith and liberty.  
While I intended to keep the Prince here, as nearer Fidam●ra, I find myself removed from her; come Sir i'll jest no more, we have seen all: shall we go on in pursuit of our design.  Mor. 
O what enchantment's this? Methinks I find myself fixed here, and yet the virtue of this touch quickens, and moves my senses so; as it implies divinity ●ather than magic. Methinks I find the hand that holds ●e, as it presseth, print Characters upon me, such as my ●aste reads, and satisfies for this detention.  Gen. 
In what contemplation are you Sir? will you ●et forward Sir, towards your lodgings, to prepare you ●or your journey?  Mor. 
I was thinking how ridiculous a thing Genorio, your proposition of staying here was, since if we would the Order admits it not.  Gen. 
It were some loss of time in your design, but not impossible to do.  Mor. 
How might we conceal, or disguise ourselves, if we meant it?  Gen. 
The means were not so unfit as the resolution, for the way must be noble; by a direct profession of some misfortune, and so be received into the Order, which the disguising of yourself at any time would dispense with you; but Sir, let's go, it grows late.  Mor. 
We cannot go before we be dismissed by the Priest, who is now assisting at the public service; we must stay till the Queen's return from the Temple, and so take our leaves.  Gen. 
That hand with one touch more, would plant me here, I do not like this backwardness; Sir, sure the Princess of Navarre is not here. I am glad to find the burden of your guilt so light, as you do choose rather to stand still under it, then move towards your discharge of it.  Mor. 
I am so willing to be punished for her sake, Genorio, as I take kindly this reproach; and as you are her solicitor, to be my guide towards her: tell me where you think the likeliest place to find her, for in Navarre we may believe she is not so long concealed from her Father.  As they are going out, they meet the Queen's company coming from the Temple. Gen. 
You must now needs stay while the Queen be past.  Queen. 
I understand you are Castilians, gentlemen: Come you lately from the Court?  Mor. 
We came directly from thence Madam, and made such haste to be here at the ceremony of the Election, as it is not three days since we left the King.  Queen. 
How does the King and Prince? have any of you had such access to the Prince, as to be able to inform us of his Person and Humour?  Gen. 
The honour I have Madam of being his domestic allows me to think myself a fit reporter of Him, than this Gentleman. For his person Madam, Nature hath thrown away so many perfections on it, so that his birth needs not to make him Lovely. For the composition of his mind; it seems to have injured him by his birth, that exposeth him to so much probability of flattery; the truth of his virtues being such as Parasites deceive themselves in the exaltation of them.  
In my opinion Madam, he hath all that youth can brag off, with all that age can reproach youth with the want of.  Queen. 
I have heard the Prince much valued by all relations, and of so strange a passion of hi●, for a Lady of his Court; as though all other advantages being ascribed to him, he intended this only, the loving her more than all the world.  Gen. 
'Tis true Madam, He hath long loved a Lady, called Fidamira, who is such a subject for a noble passion, as it seems no wonder; even the Prince's constancy in insensibleness, and the only strangeness is, that she is not moved toward him by his virtues, not that he moves not from Her by neglects.  Queen. 
You give her beauty a great power, that can dispense with their discretion, and the obligation to her Prince. Did you ever see her, sir? I see your friend is partial to her.  Morament. 
I have Madam, and may allow her all the beauty in the world left out of this society.  Queen. 
We are not subject sir, so easily to envy, as you should have needed so soon to have qualified your friends praises of her: but pray sir, doth the Prince persist in this so meritorious constancy?  Genorio. 
There was a rumour Madam when we came from Court, that the Prince to crown her virtue, and his wishes, had offered her marriage, which she had excused the acceptation of, by a pre-ingagement of her faith. And that the generous Prince resolving to vie with her for the braver fame, took this excuse with the humility of a private servant. And resolved to leave his father's Court; that at some distance from her, he might settle his resolution of leaving her liberty, and taking his again.  Morament. 
This we have heard Madam, but dare not affirm as true,  Queen. 
Fame of itself charged with the weightiest things, is leight enough to be suspected; But carrying love's quarrels it grows incredible for thoughts to reconcile them, and so the truth which Fame set out with, may be changed, before it can arrive. If this were true, though it were hard to decide an advantageous glory in this case to either of them, yet I should incline to recompense his sufferings with some odds of honour, since he is to enjoy her wish, and he nothing but the virtue of performing ●ers. What say you, ladies!  Pantamora. 
As it is a strange virtue Madam must preserve faith so entire, when it may be set in a crown, as the loss of a corner would never be perceived: I confess I wonder more at her, that might have had so large an ●asion for her faith as a kingdom; than at him, whose kingdom being not enough to purchase such a faith, was then content with patiented admiration of her.  Camena. 
I believe Madam, the Prince's virtue hath resisted by far the greater temptation: for her insensibleness might have justified his change, but even his constancy could not authorize hers. Faith must be set without a foil, so every blemish will be visible. Should a Prince scratch, or deface a jewel, while he kept it in his own hands, he might set what price he would upon it, but in the common estimation that would deprise it. So Fidamira must have lost of her true value though the Prince had rated her as high as ever. So that she seems to have preserved her value, and the Prince to have for her sake undervalved himself. Wherefore I should repair him by allowing him the greater share of glory.  Queen. 
Whensoever you see the Prince again, you may let him know, how his honour hath been noted here▪ And hath prevailed against the competition of our Sex.  Geno●io. 
Give us leave Madam, to receive our dismission by your royal hands, and to wish the Prince had but once seen your Majesty. The desperateness of the ill, and the eminency of the afflicted, both concur to make the cur● worthy of you.  Q●●en. 
I could wish Sir, he did enjoy the best part of me, which is the peace, and quiet of my mind.  Exe●●t all but morament and Genorio G●●●●●●. 
M● fear was quicker-sighted then my sense that did propose to me at first the readiest safety that tha● passi●● knows, of flying from danger. Which I obeyed so fast, as nothing could have overtaken it, therefore m● curse was forced to meet me, so to bring me back, and now methinks, I am so fixed, I can but move against my fear, for having been so bold as to precede m● love. Oh how I curse my fear for having disputed 〈◊〉 against the Prince's staying here. But since my soul is changed, I must disguise myself also to the Prince. Will you be pleased to go, Sir?  Morament. 
How out of tune are these words Genorio?  Genorio. 
Have my eyes so soon infected my voice with treachery, that it betrays me to the Prince? Is't not the 〈◊〉, and not the sound, is out of tune;  Morament. 
No Genorio, but me-thoughts thy words were dragged along with such a sound as if they had gone to suffer for a fault.  Genorio. 
Alas Sir, what accent can fall low enough to reach the depth of your dejection no tune, no words sad enough. The pity that I own you sir, that are not only going out of Paradise, but into such a Labyrinth, as 'tis uncertain whether every step carry you backwared, or forward towards your journey's end; since we know no more where to find her we seek, than she knows we seek her.  Morament. 
'tis true Geno●io. But how might we unwind this maze of Pilgrimage; and make the way director to my vow?  Genorio. 
Alas Sir, it is a case of conscience, wherein I may better be a client, than a counsellor. I am now in suit for mine. Sure Sir, the heavens that have infused this tender scruple of your guilt, affect your innocence so much, as to inspire your heart with the directest means of expiation. For did they not intent you an unblemished purity, they would never have moved you with so precise a tenderness, as even to me seems superstition.  Morament. 
'Tis so just a zeal that carries me Genorio as the perplexity of the way to it doth not distract my purpose. But heaven is so merciful to my willingness as it presents me with some means of ease, and offers me a line to guide my straying motions, by which benefit I count received, because I do avoid it, for Genorio's sake.  Genorio. 
Were it a discharge for you Sir, to have me become as miserable, as this reservation of yourself from me would make me, I should with silence accept the curse. But I believe, it must be an assumption of more guilt unto you Sir, than yet you have, the suspicion of my forwardness, nay of my ability in easing you, in any way you can design me to, where your opinion oynes with my endeavour. For nothing can seem so hard to me to act, as it is now to suffer this tenderness of yours against yourself, therefore Sir let me beg it as a grace, your disposing of me, as your opinion shall direct you for your ease.  Morament. 
You may well beg this Genorio, for 'tis a suit will make you so much richer than I, that I can ne'er discharge myself from an Indebtment to you. Therefore now Geno●io be not so ambitious to pursue your suit.  Genorio. 
What an amazing goodness is this of yours Sir? that knowing all the obedience the prostitution of this life could render you, is so much your due, as it could scarce challenge praise, would honour an easing you, which to omit were impious, with the reward of obligation from you. You have set me so near yourself, you have forgot what I was. You know Sir, you have made me so happy, I must trust to others to believe I was ever miserable, Then give me leave to accuse you of forgetting me, when you would seem to bribe my blood to your obedience, with so immense a treasure as obliging you, that would be paid with your acceptance of its effusion of your ease. Therefore Sir, unless you mean this a torment to me, you must impart your thoughts.  Moram●nte. 
How exactly kind art thou Genorio? that wilt convince me by my love to thee, not to myself, interesting thy ease in this my opening of my thoughts; I was thinking of the difficulty of the way towards the directest end of this my journey, my devotion to the Princess of Navarr, and how thy information of thy s●lfe of her retiring, and the most probable place of 〈◊〉 concealment might take off from me the laborious part of search, affording me the ease of staying here, till thou comest back to guide me. This was my thought Genorio and would not such a debt pawn me beyond redemption to thee?  Genorio. 
I confess Sir you have found a pain disputes the joy of easing you, which nothing, but the sense of leaving you, durst have attempted. And this beginning is hard, all that will follow will seem done, this difficulty past  Morament. 
Did not the perplexnesse of the enquiry leave the success uncertain, and assure the pains; I might persuade away thy first objection, since I must share the half of the first pain, of leaving me.  Genorio. 
Can I leave you Sir, after that I could do any thing. Were she so strayed from mortals, as destiny knew not where to find her, my Genius would direct me to bring news of her.  Morament. 
Alas Genorio, the fright of this our parting hath almost distracted thee. I will venture no farther on thy temper. Since we are both engaged in this wild labyrinth, we will keep together; that so, though we find nothing, we may not lose one another.  Genorio. 
Stay Sir, heaven is so careful of your ease, as it vouchsafes, methinks, even me an inspiration, that whispers to me, that your staying here, will be auspicious to you.  
So that the Gods are pleased to recompense my loss with a provision of your happiness. And now my leaving you, is become their direction, and the presage of it, is made a joy. Therefore now I do expect nothing but your instructions for my parting.  Morament. 
The gods had need join with me Genorio, to recompense thy merits. I was resolved to stay here and profess myself of the Society, till you had found the way to this strayed Saint, then upon your return my profession of myself would dispense with the engagement and I might, guided by you, the easilier perform my vow.  Genorio. 
I will go Sir, without expecting any merit from my diligence, besides this of my obedience: for my mind gives me that your resting here, not your remove, must settle your peace.  Morament. 
Come Genorio, we will go together to the Priest, you for dismission, I for entertainment.  Gen●rio. 
I'll leave you Sir with this presage, that I shall find your Atheism converted into Idolatry at my return.  Morament. 
Methinks I find myself nearer a change of torment then of ease. Eexunt.  Enter Fi●amira. Fidami●a. 
O where doth innocence reside! Is she always in her journey here on earth? and ●udgeth but in Court sometimes, and that which honour, glory, and ambition makes their journye's end the palaces of Princes she takes but in her way▪ and passeth on. Is she so froward as not to love good company; Sure 'tis not that. But that she wants that pliable complacency that is required in the S●ciety of Courts. She cannot consent to give herself away in compliment. Sure if she be fixed any where on earth, 'tis in the shade of solitude, where the clear soul by the reflex of speculation shows fair Innocency herself. Where she enamoured of her own beauty lives, and makes self-love so meritorious, as'twere a sin to be delivered from it. Thither must I carry mine, while it is yet unstained the breath of the Court would must it over at the least should I consent to this intention of the Kings, of placing me a● Court, though it were with a pretence of a compa●i●● to his daughter, who they say is my companion all 〈◊〉 in what she knows not of▪ why should he come hi●●●●●● to retract his promise of my privacy, before the time he had allotted it, was expired; And he spoke with such a degradation of himself, as if he meant to ask some what, which would not sure with the divine Image, and therefore did depose himself from being King to make himself all man for his pretention: such preposterous humility to me could imply no less, though yet his words have had no other guilt then his submission. And I am bound in sense of all his gracious care, to provide against the perversion of all this into his sin. And to secure his innocence even by my hazard. Therefore I must suddenly fly from hence, and heaven to encourage this intent, presents me with such a retreat, as may make the extremity a blessing, the Shepherd's Paradise. Thither will I fly. Fortune in all her oppressions hath enriched me with a full pretence for my admission. The Prince his return cannot ask less than a year; then I shall be free again for my Ageno, whom since this face hath twice endangered in the loss of me. I'll change it till I may deliver it him. Therefore it shall put on mourning for its faults, and his absence. The order admits equally of all nations, and as a Moor I will fly thither.  
Love, let not this averse-disguise  
Those of thy order scandalise  
Thy honour's not advanced by beauty  
So much as by a true love's duty.  Ente● Bellesa and Martiro. Martiro. 
Did not I so much admire Madam you transcendent virtues, I should wonder at the triumph the gods have raised them to. How well are the Prince his corrections and your glories fitted. He by his faith to you is suspended from his principality in the top of all his promised joys. And you for your discontents, are advanced the sooner to a Crown.  Bellesa. 
'tis true Martiro▪ but the peace of my mind was never yet since I came here so busy, as to think on any reparation due to me. And what I own the most to heaven for, is, the indifferent sense of this crown, which as it is but temporary, fits so easily on me I shall not feel it when 'tis taken off. I shall make up the diminution of my power of doing good, with the addition to my time.  Martiro. 
Give me leave Madam, to whom time is a burden, to ask how an addition to it may prove an ease. You cannot better improve this time, than in such a charity.  Bell. 
You must measure time Martiro. with your soul, not your sense; you must not antedate your desires so as time may seem too slow to bring you them. The computation of your time must be like that of clocks, which weigh & measure time at once. Andnothing leightens time so much as weighing it. If you must needs Maritiro any thing without yourself, le it be somewhat you may hope for. Nothing takes away more from time then that.  Martiro. 
Alas Madam, I am so free from this variety of wishes, as I have but one; and that so heavy a one, as as it clogs times motion, and so lengthens my days unto me for a tedious course. And you have named a remedy to refine my torment by, the impossibility of attaineing it, Hope: for I am so desperate, I would not change my wishes for any thing that I could hope.  Bellesa. 
'tis then Martiro a vanity in your sufferings, not a desire of ease; and pity were a prejudice to you, as it would lessen the merit of your patience.  Martiro. 
It were a cheapening of your pity Madam, to have it fall so low as my condition. Prince's can expect no more from you.  Bellesa 
The descent of pity is the exalltation of it. love indeed should have an object level to its self.  Martiro. 
You could love then Madam, if you had met with such an object, as you might not seem so much to incline to it, but to receive it as a parallel.  Bellesa. 
I would not have the reservation of myself Martiro, be a defect, but an election. I could love but upon such terms▪ as should reproach mankind a scarcity of merit if I did not, and not tax me with a natural repugnancy to love.  Martiro. 
Upon these terms Madam▪ you are equally just to all our sex, in this general exclusion, by the condition of deserving you. For to that great disparity, all worth may seem but equally distant; as all Numbers are equally disproportionable to Infinity. Therefore Madam persist in this right unto yourself, and you shall be a universal wonder, not a private joy.  Bellesa. 
Fear not Martiro, As I do● not think myself worthy of a miracle made for me of purpose, which such a man must be as I could love; so I do not think the gods will so decline my thoughts, as to make me love less, than what I have proposed them, and so choose to afflict me with the greater miracle.  Martiro. 
These thoughts are worthy of you Madam, love them still; so that your virtue may contend with your person, whether nature, or you, have made the greater miracle.  Enter Votorio. Votorio. 
The occasion Madam, will crave pardon for this presumption on your majesty's privacies. One of the gentlemen that your majesty lately dismissed, demands admission into this Society. And that your Majesty would appoint the time of his allegation of his pretence; the other is departed.  Bellesa. 
I will not differr his wish a day, this afternoon give order for a convocation, and I will go and prepare myself for the ceremony.  Exit Bellesa. Martiro, 
I will ask pardon of my love for all my past complaints, and bring my joys in suffering to plead for a forgiveness. He that will have the glory of a love, that out of choice affects impossibilities, must needs delight in suffering. I will preserve my vow, and this darkness may keepmy passion from becoming madness.  Enter Melidor●, and Camena. Melidoro. 
Are you behind Martiro? the Queen is past, they say, to the Convocation, and we by you shall be stronger in our excuse.  Martiro. 
It is a fair excuse for you too Melidoro; you being together, it will not seem strange, the time past you unawares. My being with you may discredit that pretence, and may imply, you could not be so well pleased, as to forget how the time passed.  Camena. 
No Martiro, you must go with us, the ex●rcise of charity may better excuse a fault then an idle pleasingness. We may be thought to have borrowed the time, to lend your sorrow some comfort in▪ better than to have forgot it in our own security.  Martiro. 
I am not so miserable, as to be relievable by so cheap a comfort as common charity. There's but one in the world happy enough to pity me, and I can pity all the world, whose joys though they be clear, and make some noise as they go on, yet are so shallow as the bottome's to be seen.  Melidoro. 
Come Martiro, this cloud of yours may break one day. Then we shall see what it contains.  Exeunt Enter Bellesa, Pantamora, Camena, Melidoro, Martiro, Votorio, and morament. Votorio. 
When your Majesty is placed, the pretender by your leave may begin his plea.  Morament. 
With all respect to the presiding Majesty, and honour to the blessed society, thus I lay down my misfortunes at your feet, which I find I put off, even as I now take on me here. And I begin to grow doubtful of the justness of my pre●ence by a surprise of happiness, which enters so fast my eyes, as I must fly back unto my memory in haste to bring out my sorrows. For I have such a new unluckiness made of purpose for me, as I ought to fear that this joy breaks in upon me, but to carry away my memory, and with it, my pretence to this divine relief, and so to make this instant lightning a perpetual storm. Now I must first address myself unto my own sex for judgement, in what you Ladies cannot be deciders for want of experience in it. Loving against scorn, I was so humble, as I had no scruple left in all my sufferings, but that of disappointing her I loved so well.  
I could have wished that even her scorn had been preferred before my wishes. So that I must excuse my conconstancy by Fate, since it occasioned such a fault in her, as this injustice you shall hear. In this continuation of my passion, which was so unhappy, I may now call it so, as to afford me many services done to her, which I will not expect so much reward for as their repetition. At last, fortune made one day my own life, which was so contemptible to me the deliverer of hers, and the presenter of what punishment she should appoint the barbarous attempter. Whose threats had almost saved the active spilling of her blood, by that cold exanimation fear had drawn over her. Which notwithstanding did her that service, as to send forth some faint cries that guided me to the rescue, in a wood where despair had carried me, to envy the life of plants, and to despise mine own. There I found her on her knees, prepared to be a Sacrifice to that blow was moving toward her.  
I, when I came to intercept it, (guilt is so weak, as 'tis no vanity to say,) I easily became as much master of his life, as he was of hers: and offered her to purge the ground, that had borne such a monster, with his blood. She then, I may say properly coming to herself, seemed to beg of me more earnestly his life, than she had done her own of him; as if her soul had been already carried up to heaven, and owght him this fright as a bl●ssing. I disarming him only, obeyed her. And gave him not only his life, but more than my own. When he was gone she told me she forgave him, since he had freed her from an injustice. Her life was only welcome to her, to retract her neglect of me. Which she would recant as far as faith and honour would warrant her. I was impatient to know how far these limitations did extend Whether my wishes were shut out by them. She told me, the execution I had stayed was upon a condemnation, where I had witnessed against her, which somewhat qualified the obligation, th●t this p●rson, I saw ready to b● the executioner, was one she loved so well, she had begged this as a blessing of him, the dying first, so to end with a perfect innocence, since his jealousy had resolved him to the death of both. And that he had so much disputed this request a● had given me time to b● the suspender of this judgement. Therefore that I should not wonder if she was tender of his life, that had so lately give● her more than his own. For that she could not have lived after him, and must have died with the guilt of her own hands▪ the innocency of whose heart would be sufficiently proved to me, by the knowledge that it was of me only she was accused▪ Therefore bid me weigh the merit of my action, with my unhappiness in the occasion I wondered to see myself indebted, even after such a present, as two such lives unto her. Therefore acknowledging my misfortune, ascribing this releese to her chance, begged of her some command, whose performance might absolve me from the fault of my contribution to this distress of his, with promise to undergo whatsoever she should promise a full forgiveness on. Th●n she with as much security as rigour, condemned me to more than I had freed her from. And told me that this mistake of her intended executioner did not so much a●at her passion to him and could much less dispense with the engagement of her faith. Therefore commanded me ne'er to see her more, and so rest contented all my life with this joy of having made her happy. After this hard command, to soften it, she steeped it in such tears, as I grew rather ashamed, then resolved. Then she began to praise, and magnify the bravery of this my action. So as I was afraid to hear her long, lest vanity should seem to share with love, in the persuasion to this obedience. I gave her instantly my promise of complying with her will, and to add somewhat even to her own wish, I said I would conduct her to her servant, and never more but once again accuse her of cruelty. And joy, that my accusation of her might now prove meritorious to her. And this settled in peace, and confidence with him, I should make him witness of my vow, so to secure her future joys. This I did the same day, and so left her there, where she began to be sensible of my company. And resolved to repair to this Sanctuary with so much devotion to forgetfulness, as nothing but the hope of my admission here, could have persuaded to the repetition of this story. Which if it do procure me, I may triumph over fortune. Whose depression of me hath but sunk me to the centre of rest and peace.  Bellesa. 
Collect the voices upon the hearing of the pretention.  ●otorio goes along, and receives all th●ir votes softly: and says, All the vo●es agree for this reception Bel. 
And mine Votorio shall confirm all. Methinks both sex's are interested in gratitude in his pretention. Women, for the demonstration of their power; and Men, for the exaltation of their love.  M●ra 
My admission here is such a blessing, as it shames all my former wishes, and removes me from the probability of e'er remembering the frustration of them, but as a benefit, which frees me now from wishing any thing.  Bel. 
Let the oath be given him, and the habit, and this convocation dismissed.  He kisses the Queen's hand and is resaluted by the rest of the Ladies, and so goes out.  

The third Act  Enter Genorio. Goe 
SInce the exclusion of that light that lightened me out of myself, I find myself settling again into my own temper, and the dispute reduced now only to my memory. Fidamira doth prevail, having the deeper seat; my eyes had drawn a superficial darkness over it, which had but shadowed not displaced my Fidamira. And I find those shadows vanished now removed out of those beams that made them. Therefore I will now first go and take out the stains of these new colours which my eyes had received in such haste, and gild my thoughts over anew with Fidamira's rays, on which no other beams shall ever shine, but to make them glitter more. Oh that the Prince his stay might settle his passion, as much as my departure h●th unsettl●d mine. So that this journey may doubly secure my F●dam●●a. I will first visit her, and from thence dispatch trusty inquiries into several parts to discover the abode of this wild Princess of Navarr. Upon my discovery I will repair unto the Prince, who I doubt not but before his return from thence may well be at his journey's end.  Ent●r ●i●amira disguised like a Moor. Fid●. 
The King's impatient search hath followed me so fast, as it hath been my habit not my legs hath saved me from reprisal. Here is one, but his easy pace doth not imply he follows any body. The gods guide you, Sir, towards your desires.  Ge●. 
As much good fortune wait on all your wishes Lady.  Fid●. 
It may be Sir, you may much contribute to mine in the direction of my way, which my haste would be much advantaged by a certain knowledge. The way to the sepheards' Paradise.  Gen. 
You are in your right way, Lady, my own immediate coming from thence may assure you of it. And one day's journey, if your person furnish strength for your haste will render you there.  Fida. 
Your coming from thence Sir may inform somewhat may more advance me then the present prosecution of my journey, if your own haste permit you.  Gen. 
Though I move not upon my own occasions, yet they are so addressed to the service of your sex, as I dare allow you any time you shall demand.  Fida. 
Sure Sir, you are much indebted to our sex, that think you own so much civility to me, that seem to be one of those that nature hath appointed for a punishment, thus to mourn for beauties martyrs. My curiosity shall not presume too much, since it is seconded with such a face. I would only know, whether you were there at the last election of the Queen. And how the form is of receiving those into the Society that desire admission.  G●●. 
I own the sex so m●ch, Lady, I am confident I shall not add one to the number of those you call mourners: bu● methinks your bl●ck becomes you so well, as if beauty itself, weary of white and r●dd, had retired a while to black for a variety. I can resolve you Lady of the election of the Queen, who's called Bel●esa. And having heard the laws readd at the coronation, can instruct you in the form of receiving pretenders into the Society, which is the manifestation of some cause wherein virtue, pressed by fortune to an extremity, flies thither for a sanctuary, and brings her s●lfe entire.  Fida. 
I doubt not then of my being received, unless my birth prove such a misfortune, as may make me unfit for that beauteous society▪ which I hear are all such, they need not so much as a foil to set them out. Otherwise my misfort●n●s are such, as it may seem a shame to virtue to be the subject of so many.  Gen. 
Virtue, Lady, is always in hostility with divers enemies, and even her scars do not impair her but make her still entire. Therefore she suffers nothing by her liableness to distress, and she is so beautiful, as she gives your colour a loveliness, that persuades me it is the brightness of your soul shines through the darkness of your face, and brings me a pleasedness that seems rather inspired then attracted from your looks.  Fida. 
You have professed yourself so happy Sir, you must needs have store of pity to throw away upon misfortune; So I may please you in the exercise of your own virtue, as necessity is delightful to an ingenuous liberality. Is the Queen, Sir, that is to be chosen most by her beauty, unquestionably the handsomest of all the society?  Gen. 
She is such a one, Lady, as will so much oblige you as to make you equal to the rest of the society compared with her; there is in my mind so much disparity, as all comparisons reach her alike. She put me that was armed with love; I thought, of proof against all the world, to flight to save myself.  Fida. 
You have forgot nothing Sir, there that may serve you in recompense of this civility?  Gen. 
Yes Lady I have forgot that there, which I never hope to remember more, but as a danger, from which I own the gods thanks for my delivery. You will find Lady a shepherd called morament lately received, he was a friend of mine, to him you may be pleased to present the wishes of his friend that left him lately.  Fida. 
I think Sir, our haste may now part us upon equal terms, they both seem to require the prosecution of our way.  Gen. 
The gentlnesse of your conversation, Lady, and the harshnesses of your condition both deserve, and seem to need a wish, I will leave with you,  
May all your joys have leisure, sorrow's haste,  
Your wishes only by success displaced.  Enter Pantamora Pan. 
How unsure are the calmest harbours, mortality can anchor in? Fortune hath raised a storm for me, that drives me out even of this security, and makes the exposure of myself to the wide Ocean of the world again, a wishedfor safety. My sinking here now is inevitable, and this safe descent is more unsufferable to me then striking on a rock, and so to perish with pre-eminence▪ The sad misfortune which admitted me into this sanctuary is so outweighed by this that falls on me now, as even this place that did relieve me then becomes my persecution. Here I found ease for all the pains, that spiteful death, by his cursed seizure on my love, inflicted on me: but here is none for the extinction of my power, whose separation from a noble heart if it be consolable, becomes the greater curse. In the remission of its self it must consent in yielding unto comfort. Love is not such an irremediable passion as ambition. Love when it goes lest annihilates itself, and so becomes its own remedy: ambition yields not to repulse, but scales up again as often as it is thrown down, and so is less relievable All the comfort I can admit of, is, that my vexation doth so new a thing, as to defeat the peaceful virtue of this place; though that will be much abated by the necessity of dissembling my discontents. Here comes Melidoro and Camena. They are so pleased they will easily be deceived.  Enter Melidoro, and Camena Cam. 
We may give you, Pantamora, as much joy in the resignation of your power, as Bellesa in the possession; since she can enjoy but what you have done, and she can not till she resignt tha joy as you have done.  Pant. 
I dot no repine Camena, at my resignation, but 'tis to avoid a sin not as I am void of sense of soverainity, so as to prefer a private condition before so public an eminence: and I believe the possession of ones self enlarged much by the extent of power. Active thoughts are not to be wearied out by ease. They that prefer retreats and privacies for the enjoying of themselves, cousin themselves of what they might improve in company; and so, it may be, lose more in that they might acquire than that they make use of in the easiness of their contentedness. Sure, for the prospect of my thoughts, I would choose an eminence to set them in.  Meli. 
Sure Pantamora, if our thoughts take their horizon at a convenient distance, the emission of them so far i● a recreation to them. But if they look so far as to mee● no termination but the air, they lose themselves i● their extents. Privacy may send out thoughts so far as a conspicuous exaltation; therefore sure they that in calm● solitude can keep their wishes within their reach, and their thoughts not much farther than their wishes, enjoy a much happiness as they can think of, and none desire more.  Cam. 
But it seems Pa●●●mor●, 'tis not the peace bu● the priority that you affect amongst us. And that thi● place had only the virtue to ease you, as it was capable 〈◊〉 soverainity, not devoted unto solitude.  Pan. 
Mistake me not Cam●n●, I do not think it che●pens private joys, to raise the value thus of hers that eve● the gods intent advantage to. But I forgive you, that b● the estimation of your own happiness, cannot cons●●● to allow soverainity precedency. You will bette● understand one another, therefore I'll leave you where you wil● not be so easily mistaken.  Cam. 
'tis a hard thing P●ntam●ra, not to be so in yo● that change so often.  Exit Pantamora. Mel. 
How much do I own you Camena, that have settled me above Pantamoras wishes. I would desire soverainity for nothing but to lessen the disparity which is between my passion, and power of serving you. And give me leave Camena, with an humble patience, to show some sense of your disagreement▪ to our demanding a dismission at this late Election.  C●mena. 
If Love, Me●idoro, raise itself to such a sovereignty as to possess all power, and fortune in itself, and to neglect all other; then my differing our remove from hence continues you in this your throne; for, they say, Possession, and much more propriety, retrenches Love's prerogative.  Melid●ro. 
As love, Camena, seizeth all our senses, it keeps all their faculties so busied, as they have not leisure to taste, much less to enjoy any thing, and when our senses have preferred it up into our thoughts, there it is enthroned higher, than any mortal joy can reach up to depose it. Love may rise to this transcendent height, that it may seem to look down on all things, and despise even enjoying: but, likely, our thoughts in this elevation stay not long, but growing dizy fall. Therefore when our imaginations settle at such a pitch, as our senses are within distance of them; then possession is a foundation to maintain Love at that height: and such love, Camena, remains unmoved, and seethe the ruin of many aspiring passions that fall down by it. Therefore possession what it takes off from love's summer-prospect in the height, doth recompense it with strength, and security against the change of seasons.  Cam. 
Then Melidoro, the impropriations of ourselves proves us both more habitable, and less delightful, and the security of your loves cools to a tepid warmth, which is not only void of brightness, but of light. Love is darkened, Melidoro, wh●n the flame's p●tt out.  Meli. 
Hymen's torches do imply, Camena, loves flame is nourished, not put out: and may not love blaze aswell in them, as Cupid's wild fires?  Cam. 
They say indeed, Melidoro, they are the emblems of the nuptial flames, which go out with them.  Mel. 
All flames Camen●, as they be lightsome, so are they wavering too: we see their light and their uncertain motions both at once. Therefore suppose this flame of love put out by nuptial rites, it settles then into a temperate heat; whose equal ardour purifies it more. For love like gold, Camena, must be brought into a fluentness, and by receiving of impression so becomes most useful.  Cam. 
In this usefulness you speak of Melidoro, the gold is made lighter still, and is made currant by allays So women, like gold, lose of their value for the good they do. I cannot yet resolve to abate so much from what I love so well, myself, as to submit to a propriety.  Meli. 
Nuptial bonds Camena do not convey you over to the propriety of him they are delivered to; they rather do enlarge the owning of yourself. For they make the same as yourself, what you vouchsafe to join unto it. So you are still owned, but by yourself enlarged. D● not fright me then Camena, with that word [submission, when all I wish is but this Identity, To become mo●● subject to you, because we do dispose of nothing so freely as ourselves.  Cam. 
That which in our freedom Melidoro, is an assurance against these bonds, after our engagement do● expose us most to the penalty of them. This Identity 〈◊〉 man and wife, this aggravates our faults, as it imply the husband's sufferings for them. This interesteth that whose tenderness hardens our lives unto us, a husband's honour, which is so delicate, as breath, nay imagination wounds it; and our afflictions are presently ministered fo● remedies, and all our suffering made legal by this Identity. Therefore Melidoro, I will not hazard the blessing o● my love to you by making you myself, who have a title dearer to me far.  Meli. 
'tis an affected cruelty Camena, to punish me for possibility of sinning, and not to leave me so much as your love to joy in, by this ascription of my punishment to that. No Camena, this is a deceit full of apparition of your love, which like the Sun now it is setting seems to draw near us, when it is remotest: therefore now I must expect a following darkness.  Cam. 
Mark Melidoro, how you that would decline men's easiness to jealousy, are already insensibly crept into it.  Enter Votorio. Voto. 
Melidoro and Camena, I come to warn you both to the Convocation. The Queen hath apppointed to day for the hearing of a new Pretender, the hour is near at hand.  Cam. 
We will both go along.  Exeunt. Enter Fidamira called Gemella. Gem. 
My innocence hath strengthened even the weakest part of me so, as to defeat the King's pursuit. And now secured from those fears, lest I should once enjoy a thoughtlesse ease, I find a care rise up before me, how I should disguise my story. Fortune hath provided such an excess for me, as I might spare the half, lest my distress may seem so irremediable, as to exclude me from this ease. The strangeness of my curse is such, as it excludes all belief, otherwise then that my complaint is vain. And 'tis no discretion to allege the love of Princes, for a misfortune. I must therefore degrade them of that quality, and relate them but as father and son, this will interest both sexes in my pity, who am fled hither, choosing so to make peace for others, to come and beg my own,  Enter Queen and the Society Queen. 
The pretender is already here, let's take our places and give her audience.  Gem. 
The very introduction to my story, Ladies, may be a pretence enough unto your pities, that I am reduced to beg belief of you in that▪ which above all things derogates from yourselves, That your contrariety could be beloved. And that which will avert you Gentlemen from the credit of it, is, that it may seem a scandal to have this love imputed unto men; unto whose colours this of mine may seem a stain, and not an ornament. Thus I am so miserable as before I plead my cause, to make my judges justly parties against me; but, this wonder past, and pardoned, than the consequence may easily be believed because it is successively natural, A Father and a Son being the subjects of this wonder. The passion of the son was first. The father followed it unknown to the son; of which the father meant to apply the first discovery, only to benumb and dead what was left of life. This was that only pretence which the fury ●ealousy, did allow the son▪ which had persuaded as it seems the father, that the blackness of his thoughts would match the colour Nature had meant to suit with mine. And the gods know, I was so equally averse to both, as they had made our colours The father's purpose seemed to him past defeat; and finding me one day so constantly unmoved with all those storms lover's complaints do raise, at last this swelling sadness broke into a rage, and unwed rev●nge. The which the strangeness of, might be discredited in my belief, had not the wonder of his love presaged unnatural events. He said, he would reduce himself to a condition should defeat even my pity, and in revenge of my crosswill would frustrate even my power of helping him. And there he seemed to prove, this purpose was designed above, since nature had cursed him unto the making of his curs●, his son. Whose making was not thought enough, but his end too was destined to him, and even for such a cause, as was a greater torment than the act. Therefore he said, his thoughts condemned his son of more than parricide, his intercepting of my love to him, and he should be sacrificed to this suspicion. So little did the love of twice himself prevail, set by his love to me. And this he said, he did acquaint me with, that my virtue which had been his tormentor, might have the pain of being the cause, and knowing this detestable effect without the means of a prevention, which his instant execution should make impossible. And thus he seemed to fly from me, as if the pleasure of this act already had displaced that of his being with me. Then I, counselled by virtue in this strange surprise, which seeing as herself she had not power to divert this rage, did prompt me to disguise her into a shape might please his fancy for a while, and so delude this fury by its own resemblance. Then I pursuing him with haste stayed him, seeming to embrace his rage, not wrestle with it. Then I told him that I did allow this brave resolve, as a temptation high enough to justify my yielding to. And I could never have thought to have met a humour worthy the matching mine unto. I told him, mine was none of those warm tender hearts that sighs could blow into a flame. It had an adamantine temper, which only blood can soften; and that he had done like to that Painter, that had the figure of a lion running mad, and wanting ●othing but the foam to represent, grew so distracted with despair of hitting it, as in a rage he threw his pencil at it, and by this chance did rarely perfect his abandoned work: and so his fury had, throwing itself into so high despair, made up that figure, which only could have taken me.  
I told him, that his fears were true, and that his son was guilty of interposing between him and me. But his offence was only natural, not active against him, whose having of a son, had resolved me, not to submit the pleasures of my bed to a minority in any thing. Therefore he that could intent to kill his son to impossibilitate his joys, will easily do it to assure them. Which if he would promise, on the belief of his brave mind, that had advanced me to such proofs of it, I would advance his possession of me, even this night, before the ceremonial rites. He agreed to this with so much joy, he seemed to have made and not destroyed a son. That night, I having taken up the time on such a pawn as this, made presently the best of it, and laid it out so, as I thought the use of it should pay the principal. Therefore I sent instantly to the son; and, by tokens, that I had taken from the father as pledges of his word, assured him his death was purposed by his father, and that night. That there did remain no time for any thing but flight. This he believing did fly instantly. Which I assured of, my next part was now, to unmask my virtue, whose vizard grew offensive. Therefore thus winged with innocence, I did resolve to fly over these seas, which part our neighbouring lands, leaving a Letter which might clear my virtue, from that black engagement I had made. And coming hither, the kind gods presented me with the self equal report of so divine a body, as it offers it to the relief of all nations & sexes, and my arrival here I cannot ascribe to less than a divine direction.  
Thus have you heard a Story, whose strangeness needs so much of your pity, it must first ask your credit as a charity; which if you do vouchsafe, I cannot doubt a fair commiseration. And the newness of this my pretence brings somewhat with it, as a recompense for my admission, an enlargement of the powerful virtue of this place which by receiving me into this happiness, shall show, it cannot only disappoint Fortune's malignity, but Nature's too.  Queen. 
Votorio, collect the voyees.  Votorio. 
No vote opposeth the admission.  Gemella 
Nature, Madam, hath by my humility lightened so the dark misfortune of my birth, as ambition, whose colour is my contrary, seems so unlovely to me, as I shall wish nothing but rest and solitude, whose shades best fit with me.  Bellesa. 
Let the oath and habit be given her.  Exeunt. Enter Bonorio. Bono. 
How much doth heaven approve of this compassion? It hath already paid me with all the blessings earth affords, and hath made the King the recompencer of my happy disobedience. He hath since Fidamira's flight heaped so much fortune and honour on me as if he meant that amazement should take up all my senses, and leave me none to lament her love with, which sorrow seems to him his prerogative, she would admit no partner in it.  
But I have a pain deeper than any guess can reach to allay. Such a one as the name of father forbids the cure of.  
The king is gone this way, his afflictions make my curse inevitable; for even their relief, the finding Fidamira, must prove her loss to me.  Exit Enter King. King. 
O Fidamira, thy fears have blemished even thy innocence, in this unjust affliction of thy Prince, that had no thought but how to show that Princes are happy in the means of setting virtue in its truest light. If this purposed remove of thee out of thy father's house did shake thee into needless fears, 'twas thy humility, that did not know, that thy transcendent merit was so much, that a King could not spare the smallest circumstance in all his power to honour it enough. So, what I was forced to do even to avoid omission, thou didst avoid for an excess. Was it not pain enough for me to part with Basilino, without the addition of this strange heavy curse, That his return should prove a torment to me? For so it must by this distress of Fidamira, whose happiness I only was to account for, upon his request O that he were come back, that I might free the name of King from such misfortunes! and resigning to his guiltless youth break off this thread by ruder motions, and not stay till it wear out with age▪ I would myself undergo a boundless pilgrimage, which, though it had no end but expiation of my guilt to Basilino by the expiration of myself, I'd undergo it so. Most of those I sent in search of her already are returned, and with their silent sadness, bring mourning only for their answers. Into how wild a divination have my straying sorrows led me here alone? and they have brought me to a way whose shady melancholy seems to invite me to begin my Pilgrimage▪ Here comes one too whose looks forespeak his news. What, have you found her?  Gen. 
Who should I have found?  King. 
Canst thou look so and ask, Who? Is there so much sorrow left in all the rest of the world as thou pretendest to, and not employed in F●damira? What art thou, that seemest so boldly sad to vie with me?  Gen. 
This is the king I must dissemble▪ I am one that may allow you any subject you can choose about yourself, and then dispute afflictions with you. I am a voted pilgrim, whose wand'ring motions seek their aim hopeless of so much rest as even the knowledge of the end they are directed to.  King. 
Alas, thou art so short of me, as even thy misery is my wish. Were it in my choice to be a Pilgrim or a King, I'd choose thy curse for ease. If you have nothing else to vie with me, you may add this unto your griefs, if you did mean they should▪ exceed all others; they being now outsorrowed by me, whose condition if you knew, would shame all your complaints.  Gen. 
My sorrow's Sir, do lie so heavy on me, I cannot raise them up so high as a relation; yours must be leighter, needs, that you can lift them so high as your mouth.  King. 
This dumb dejection of yourself under the pressure of affliction may as well imply your weakness as the sorrow's weight. And silence so may equal all pretensions unto misery. Therefore raise your complaints so high to put them in a balance against mine, to try the which outweighs.  Gen. 
I am content to leighten yours to weigh with you. I have loved, and have been so near enjoying, as the disappointment did double the pain, by the reflex of that which lightt on her I loved, by this differing of our joys which I am now more distanced from, than I was ever near.  King. 
I did resist and overcome a passion, whose opposition had but left me one pain in all the world greater than it, and that fell on me, the disappointment of hi● love, for whose success I only could have yielded, and I remains guilty in the opinion of them both, a● the defeater of their joys.  
The one I shall ne'er see again, to undeceive. The other I must see so guiltily deceived, as he unjustly must condemn his father.  Gen. 
This is the only misery (I do confess) I could allow a pity to. This is a lending of your senses to others torments, whose joys only they cannot taste. Your own wishes in my mind could not relieve you, since they tend only to others ends.  
I do allow you so much advantage Sir, as I confess your present misery is above my fears. But give me leave to ask▪ as a stranger to your country and your story, Whether this Fidamira that you named be yet a live. Methinks her death might ease you much.  King. 
Kind pilgrim, In the absence of my son, jealous of, so much comfort as my care, my cursed fate guided her the only way unto my guilt, her flight. I do not think her dead, no more than a disguise may be a preparation to it. As death may have a better pretence to seize her then as not herself, than in the lively illustration of herself, to whom all lives are due. And to let thee see, kind pilgrim, how due to me this thy ingenuous yielding was, I will direct thee to an ease of all thy miseries, while mine are unreleevable. I'll terminate thy aimelesse course, and point thee out to such an end, whose sa●e attainder shall centre thy sorrows up in rest. You have heard sure of the shepherd's Paradise, whose peaceable bounds have that strange virtue from the gods, as to include all those within a peaceful acquiescence, that are admitted there. Thither repair, for though you have not grief enough to weigh with mine; yet your misfortune's full enough for a pretence to be received even there. And when you find the smiles of that smooth place laugh at your wrinkled sorrows past, then for my sake dispute your joys with those contented souls. For you may sooner there outvie all their delights▪ than my distresses, should you run on in this sad maze till you did measure all the world and end your days.  Gen. 
I will submit myself to your directions Sir, but to an end differing so far from what you do prescribe as mine shall be in a defiance unto peace. I will even there raise up new sorrows which my distracted soul shall there erect for trophies, got from the contesting virtue of that place; which my sad life shall so defeat, as all those joys that shall encompass me, shall by the deadness of my sense, serve but to prove my miseries the more complete.  King. 
Fellow my counsel friend; it may be the virtue of this place may be so strong, it shall incline your own willingness towards your relief. I must leave you, and I am sure not far out of your way towards my advice.  Gen. 
The gods be with you Sir, and may you live to be a wonder in the contrary extreme of what you now are. Alas, good King, how patiented have I been to allow your sorrow's victory, striving with mine, which these were too that you brought forth. For Fidamira's flight belongs simply to me, and hath no comfort but the admiration of her virtues, which this happy meeting with the King hath so exalted as the wonder mingles with the sense of my disappointment, and so tempers it into a hopeful patience. The King's counsel is so good, it will serve for more than he intends it, and I hope for as much joy to him, as he meant ease to me. I will go back directly to the Prince, and now assure him that the Princess of Navarr is dead, to stop his father's course. And as I find his thoughts are fixed or moved from Fidamira, so contrive his return; the which will quickly unconceal my Fidamira, who must needs be hid in some neighbouring privacy secure from her virtuous fears.  
This penance of not seeing her, I take as due unto these faulty eyes that have been pleased with another object. Which now redeemed shall make me watch their straying motions with a stricter care.  
Beauty shall slide from them as it falls  
Like smooth things lighting upon crystal balls,  
Whose touch doth part and not together fix  
Their own agreeing makes them cannot mix.  
So beauty in mine eye shall meet with such  
I cannot fix, but pass as it doth touch.  Exit. Enter Bellesa, morament, Martiro. Bel. 
That which you reported of the Prince, morament, is now fully confirmed by this Moor that we admitted last. She passed that way she said, and so describes his person and his parts, it seems a miracle that faith or honour could have virtue to resist his will.  Mora. 
I know the Prince, Madam, so well, I wonder more at the unfitness of his wishes, than at the god's refusal. Which was a gentle punishment of his forgetting self. And I believe wherever he is gone, heaven will direct him to a choice, between which, and his own, there shall be as much odds, as between his choosing and the gods.  Bel 
You believe then morament, he will love again, & by a high success shall know he was reserved by heaven, for more than he could wish at first, you think heaven doth allow of love's twice.  Mora. 
As it doth intent, Madam, all good should rise to its perfection, our minds are but love's pupils at the first. Which fit themselves but to proceed and take degrees, and so our second love is a degree wherein our souls attain to experience that employs itself in love's refinement. So not by the first step, but by this gradation, Love ascends unto its highest.  Bel. 
I will allow you morament, Love is no irradiation of a light into our souls whose first instant brightness is in its perfection. But may not the first spark be kept alive and raised unto as high a light, as can the second, which is kindled still by putting out the first?  Mora. 
'tis not an extinction of the flame, 'tis but a change of the material that fomented it: so second loves have this advantage, they being the first instant in that height the first was long agrowing to, and have the first comparison to raise themselves by, which must prove it higher by having got above it.  Bel. 
These degrees of elevation M●ramente, you require in Love, infer this consequence that love should be a continual motion, by change aspiring to transcendency. For it comparison doth raise it so, he is to blame that takes but one. For by your inference the number must exalt no●last unto the greatest height. Your inconstancy doth not concern us so, as you should strive to prove it a virtue to us.  Mora. 
In this degree Madam, which I have named Love comes to touch a point, after which all motion is a declination. I do not allow loves lightness, or variety contributors unto its height. I do agree the glory of it, is in a consistency in this elevation the second love attains to; because the first cannot know how high it is. Had I thought inconstancy a virtue, Madam, I ne'er had been blest with this so great a joy as seeing you.  Bel. 
What morament says, Martiro seems to justify the Prince his second love, and so to make his cause a precedent to plead his own by, since their fortunes do re-resemble much in the miscarrying of their loves.  Mar. 
So he hath reason, Madam; for the Prince's case would warrant any private ●ans dismission of such thoughts whose entertainment did so much defame loves power by his Tyranny; and they ill subjects are, whose constant sufferings do better the world from his subjection which can be taken only by their will.  Bel. 
I do confess the Prince for many reasons might not only be allowed but wished a second, and successful love; that he may know our Sex have joys that may outprise his sufferings; be may else grow vain in this his sorrow, and believe love owes his more than it can pay in all our Sex.  Mora. 
What Madam then is my condition? whose sufferings I should think injured compared with his, did I not find the Prince exalted by you to so high a pity, as I am glad mine were now likened to them, might not I pre●end to have my second choice, wisdom, not inconstancy?  ●el. 
I believe you might; and I should pity you the more, were you not here in this delightful ●●●ce, and he abroad in search of that you have attained, forgetfulness.  Mora. 
You speak Madam, as though you wished him here; where would he were even in my place, and I any where but with your pity.  Bel. 
You wish morament much against him, and more against yourself: for you had my pity in your admittance, you had it at first sight; and, since, you have my interest in all your joys as part of the Society.  Mora. 
If I wish him Madam in my place 'tis that I dare wish more in his brave name then in my own, in whom so insolent a wish as your esteem could find but such a pity as distraction doth.  Bel. 
I do esteem you so much morament, as I dare never resolve to pity you so much. I trust the virtuous peace of your composed, and settled thoughts.  M●r. 
M●●amente is so civil, Madam, he would make the virtue of this place defective, to endear your power by the applying of his wishes unto you. And your civility to us Madam is such, you borrow now this time from your devotions.  Be●▪ 
'tis true, Ma●tiro, time is not so civil as to stay for any body.  Mora. 
I have yet devotion enough Madam to forgive M●rtiro his excess. I'll stay behind a little to dispose myself to that. Exeunt Bellesa, M●rtiro.  
I see there is no vizarding of love to make it pass abroad unknown; the eye or mouth are even enough to show what 'tis. Nay did young Love himself wish a disguise he could not ever be fitted. For who can take a measure of a growing love? where every instant adds as much as even your thought can comprehend. And now Love seems to promise more advantage by this self discovery. It prompts me to Martiro's friendship, whose trust will both afford my love more room for recreation of itself, and help to carry it nearer Bellesa by an insensible approach, which it may make by him. I will profess ●y passion freely to Martiro. I am sure to be believed, that's a joy which I defy my own misfortune to oppose me in. But I must not provoke it with unthankfulness▪ I must acknowledge to my misfortune the debt of this experience.  
All love's a light▪ which as it doth eject  
Shadows, by them it doth itself detect.  
So he that thinks love can be shadowed quite  
Knows not, there is no shadow without light.  
I will contribute now to B●llesa's knowledge, and will leave these verses here, which she must find at her return. Exit.  Enter Gemella. Gem. 
Is this strange discovery part of my curse, my finding out of the Prince, only that I might miss Agenor? The peace this place affords had been too much for me without this disquiet of Agenor's parting with the Prince. I can guess no reason, unless he should, finding him settled here, have asked leave to go back again unto the King with the design of seeing me. Which I am aptest to suspect. I● doth so well agree with my misfortunes such a disappointment. And yet I findsome bold devining-thoughts, that thank my fears that brought me hi●her. And promise me I shall redeem the Prince his favour, by so strange a service. He may think I owe the virtue of my faith unto his fate, that did compel me to inconstancy. Which was ordained that his despair might welcome this destined blessing so much more; and I shall have a double merit by my contribution of despair and hope. I do confess his passions, and already have professed his praises, and he is himself our Prince. And now I must apply myself to the success of his disguise. I shall so studiously pursue his end, as his consent unto Agenor's choice and mine shall be a joy of his, and no reward. Here lies a paper. This is his hand, I cannot mistake, mine eyes are not disguised. These are verses full of passion. I'll keep them so, as she he meant them to, shall see them more recommended, than this chance can do.  Enter Pantamora. Pan. 
I thank my thoughts for this reproach they send me. Now the wish of my contribution to the successes of my love, which now again hath mastered my ambition; and all the quarrel I have now unto Bellesa, is, the having envied her, that so low a passion should be in me, for which I will accept no less satisfaction from myself then the dis-lustering of her in Moramen●'s eyes. I am confident she is already settled there with all the advantage love can choose. And sure, she cannot choose but see herself there by the reflex of his addresses, which are so clear as her conivance implies she finds herself no way disfigured there. Yet all this is no more advantage than I may allow her. I would not meet with lesser difficultyes to expiate my envy, which my heart hath let itself descend to. And now my thoughts shall take their rise no lower than the admiration of her beauty and her virtues, and from thence carry my love's success above them all. I will not strike on the flat of envy or distraction, but in fair conspicuous flights will make above her. Exit.  Enter morament Mora. 
To what a rashness hath my Love transported me? as if I might expect my passion had given me an equal power over others to that it had assumed over me. I did deliver up my wishes to Martiro, with such a confidence, as if I had granted his contribution to them as a suit. He answered me with such cold civility as did imply surprise. He said, he wondered that so noble a passion could be so defective in so essential a point as secrecy. But that he would impute this opening of myself to him a desire of making him a friend by this advance of such a trust, as must express my confidence in him by the exposure of my happiness to his discretion. In return of which, he said he would promise me so strict a secrecy, as my love should be locked up with the profoundest secret● of this world, his hidden thoughts; which should never have more air than would afford them breath only to live, but not to speak. How dull was I, not to believe before that all that had seen her, were in love with her? I'll give security now for my believing it, a general distrust of all the world. All women needs must envy her, and all men me for the out-loving them. I will punish this my looseness so, I will endure the guilt of breach of friendship for it, and lock it up even from Genorio at his return.  Enter Genorio led by two soldiers. Soul. 
We may discharge ourselves of this charge now, having met you Sir, who are of the society. He demands Votorio, to whom, you can direct him better than we.  Mora. 
This stranger, friends, is addressed to me, where you may leave him, and take your discharge.  Soul. 
We obey Sir, and leave you.  Exeunt soldiers. Mora. 
Dost thou bring news Genorio, that thou hadst rather thy clothes should tell than thou? What black traverse hast thou brought, to draw between me and my joys were flying to embrace thee.  Geno. 
I am happy Sir, to come to be embraced by you in this infectious Colour which must fully and black you too.  Mora. 
Throw then Genorio those blacks over me, for nothing can appear so ugly unto me as this partycolored doubt.  Gen. 
If the blacks be not so polished Sir, as you may see yourself in them, then let your thoughts sink down as low as possibility can fall, and they must needs find your misfortune there. You have not many to confound your choice.  Mora. 
It must be that, Genorio, that which sinks beyond the centre of misfortune, so as it ascends upward unto heaven in a rebellion for Saphira's elevation thither. My distraction tells me it must be that, and justifiys this seizure on me. I am so mad already, I do not wish it should be less. And I am not so happy as to be naturally mad, for I have so much sense left yet Genorio, as to thank thee for the exempting of thyself from so soul a thing as telling it me.  Gen. 
Give me leave to tell you Sir, you have not guessed so much misfortune, as your distraction is going now to make. Suppose heavenly Saphira at her home. Will not the part of lamentation that you owe her, ask an entire soul to pay it her? why then do you tear that apeices, which even whole will be too little to offer up unto her memory? do you think that less than a man can be enough to mourn for her? Then Sir, collect your senses, and by this union strengthen them for the imposure of this weight, that they may be the bearers of this sacred hearse. This leight-distraction shows they would fly from it as a burden▪ Therefore Sir, consider what shame it will be for you to mourn for the divine Saphira as you are not yourself.  Mora. 
As I am myself Genorio, I must needs be the unfittest to mourn for her; for so I own her most, and am unworthy even of an ability to acquitt myself. Should I speak to save those senses that were guilty of her death? No Genorio, no less than running mad, and biting even the virtue of the place, so as by my infection it may distracted die, and turn this Paradise into a mourning wilderness, where nothing but wild sorrow shall abide. There is nothing but the virtue of this place so inverted, can be a monument of grief fit for the divine Saphira.  He offers to go out. 
But stay, before I go Genor●o, tell me the manner of her leaving of this world, that I may be higher swollen with this black raging poison I must spread, that I may overcome all Antidotes this place is strengthened with.  Gen. 
The knowledge of this circumstance will be so useful to you Sir, as you must give me leave now to condition for the imparting of it; Since not yourself, I need ●ot own my duty, therefore promise Sir to reassume so much sense as to comply with your own duty, and your dear father's wishes. Whose sorrows for your absence joining with his age, will quickly rob you of some part of those distracted griefs requiring a great share for him. Therefore your duty to Saphira should advise you to avoid so sad a mixture as his death must be, which must part griefs with her. And were it but to raise your mourning as a private man up to the height of a great Prince, you were obliged for that to reinthrone yourself, that by this low dejection of yourself, it might so become the greater fall, and so you advanced in your design of honouring Saphira.  Mora. 
Doth my father summon me Geno●io to the performance of my word, in my return? I will begin at this great height of straining nature, in my disobedience to him, I must benight the lustre of this place. Courts of themselves are sad enough Genorio, each one hath there his own particular affliction that benums him of the sense of others. No Genorio it must be here, among these joys, where greife's a miracle, that I must celebrate the funerals of the divine Saphira, and so give blacks to all this society. If you will leave to me to guess the manner of her death, I'll show I am so stark mad, as I'll believe she died for love of me.  Gen. 
I'll contribute so much to the madness of the belief Sir, as to let you know she died married to the King of Albion, whom her beauty which was only undisguised in her retreat into his country, which she chose for solitude, raised her to the public eminence of Queen, without the help of any other quality; all which until her death she kept concealed, unwilling to owe any thing but to her beauty.  Mora. 
This may allay my grief into a sober melancholy which I must now impose upon myself, the only means of expiation left. This methinks hath brought me to myself again, her having been another's. And now Genorio I will promise thee to stay but to use the virtue of this place for the recovery of this sad disease was growing on me. Therefore do you pretend to be admitted h●re, and I will promise within few days to declare myself, and so return. I'll go and send Votorio to you.  Exit morament Gen. 
I will obey you Sir, and with no less merit by the pain of staying now, than in the leaving you before. Sure fortune is not blind, it could not lead us up and down, thus, as it were in such intricate and many changes, at it doth. She hath brought me back hither, & persuades me now she will convey me to my end by staying here. Sure this pretence of staying here to mourn was but found out as the best disguise Love can put on, because the blackest sorrow. And nothing will conceal love longer than an approved pretence to sadness. I must apply my observation, and my curiosity as a stranger, to discover whether his thoughts be not more fixed on Bellesa's life than Saphira's death.  Enter Votorio. Voto. 
The Gods protect you, Sir; morament told me you demanded me.  Gen. 
He hath obliged me Sir, in so speedy procuring of this favour, I am come to entreat your help in an audience, for the delivery of my pretence to be admitted into the Society. Fortune, since I went from hence, hath so intended my persecution, as if my having been but here had been a declaration of myself against her. Therefore now I am come back hither for Sanctuary, with this to recommend my sad pretence the having suffered for my b●ing here.  Exit Votorio. Enter G mella. Gem. 
It is you Sir, have brought this darkness with you, that hath o'ercast morament thus.  Gen. 
I assured only his enquiry in somewhat he desired to know abroad, which if it hath afflicted him, it will add somewhat to my pretence. The misfortune of having been so cursed as to bring sorrows hither, it will be in your power Madam, now to over-pay that which you were so lately pleased to call civility, my direction of you hither. Your happy admittance here must needs indebt you to any body that did but contribute so much as showing you the way.  Gem. 
That which helped you to retain me in your memory may excuse me for your being fallen almost out of mine. This black made me notorious to you and hath disguised you to me. It seems you are owner as well as bearer of part of Morament's griefs.  Gen. 
Among all misfortune's Madam, I have not this of nature, the being insensible of what friendship should affect me with, and so only this particular toucheth me, my own dysasters challenging this habit.  Gem. 
Your own misfortunes are now to be relieved by our knowledge of them: but you may ease us by the acquaintance of this grief which you have brought to morament.  Gen. 
I wonder Madam, it falls so heavy on him to cause this dejection, since it falls on him but from another whom it fell on first. 'Tis the death Madam of the Princess of Navarr, whom the Prince his highness was so in love with, as he left his father's Court even to ask nothing but her pardon. The story is too long to satisfy you by, of the Prince his reasons. But this is enough to possess you of the reason of Moraments sorrows, his love and duty to the Prince.  Enter Votorio. Voto. 
The Queen Sir, is going to the audience-seat, and 'tis time for you to move that way.  Gen. 
I follow you Sir. In hope of time enough hereafter, to ask your pardon, Lady.  Gem. 
I shall meet you presently Sir, and I hope embrace you, as one the gods seem to favour, and to have forgiven by their direction of you into this Society.  Exeunt Vo●orio, Genorio. Gemella. 
The gods should too much enlarge me to furnish me with more admiration of the virtue of this place. Sure th●y chose to make me thus happy, as the subject whereon the virtue of this place might get the greatest honour by the despair of my condition, that I should live to miss Genori●, to endear the finding him here. This is he, my joys tell it me better than my eyes. The Prince is here, & left the sense of the Princess Saphiras death might qualify these joys, the Prince being in love with the divine Bel●esa is fallen out to make her death as it were a sacrifice to all our lives. This free's the Prince from any scruple in his love, and so prepares the wished success unto Agenor and myself. I will conceal myself still unto Agenor. It is not jealousy, but to do him right by this allowance of so much merit, as his constancy must be, in this place, imparadised in the strength of temptations of our Sex: and I love him so I'd have him out-merit me in what only I can allege it, constancy, which in a defence against this place's beauty will be done. I do not despair of Belles●s taking too, my approaches have been successful yet.  
Love's well advanced, entrenched within our ears,  
It works securely covered from our fears.  
If e'er it come to parley under ground  
But with our thoughts, we likely do compound.  Enter the Queen, and all the Society. Voto. 
Morament by me begs your majesty's pardon for his absence which his indisposition hath occasioned.  Bel. 
I am sorry for the justness of his excuse. Let the ●●tender begin.  〈◊〉 
Behold deaths Herald, sent to proclaim a Victory 〈◊〉 he lately had o'er love, by which both sexes are defeated so, as men may fear the being loved, and women may justly leave from loving, since nothing but dying can show that they can love enough. Behold and pity me whom death keeps thus alive by my despair. In living to proclaim his Triumph, not only in my love, but in my life, I am that wretched he, that shame unto my sex, that was beloved by such a one, as had not sin enough to die, but death was feign her virtue to employ.  
This treachery did death use me with, whilst I was as I may say even in his company, as much as darkness and absence represent him. In this separation then, death I may say betrayed love too: for 'twas the deadly sin of lust, armed with the power of a Prince that did assault the virtue of this matchless Shee. To save whose life she gave her own to death delivering it with her own hands. Which being not strong enough to defend her innocence, were innocent in the defeat of her own life when it stood against her innocence. After this, do not believe that I pretend admission here for comfort, but bound to seek through all the world the place which is the truest enemy to lust, and death, which all consent is this; for that virtue which defies the first, defeats the last of his power. Therefore I must implore your aid in this, that in revenge of this injurious life which nature is not so kind as to allow me hope of a justifiable freeing of myself of, I may live here where only life is such, as it despiseth death.  Bel. 
Votorio, collect the votes  Voto. 
They agree for his admission.  Bel. 
And I confirm it too. But methinks death hath not been so injurious as your sense would make it in this cause for it seems to have come in upon the rescue, not the arrest; and we are interessed in your life as a record of the virtue of our sex.  Gen. 
Did I not justly prefer the estimation of this place before the rest of the world, I should have been a moving monument, and should have dispersed her Epitaph as far as life would have have served to carry me. But since in this one cent● meets all the extended lines of virtue that touch this world's circumference, here I have chosen to fix myself; that in a firm consistency the dimension of this virtue might be trulier taken here.  Bel. 
Votorio, let him be sworn.  Vot. 
You shall be obeyed, Madam.   

The fourth Act.  Enter morament reading of a paper. Mor. 
MY whole life Saphira should have been thy Epitaph, had not thy end dispensed with my beginning. This is an obligation which my fancy brings unto thy memory, which I will offer to it now.  Enter Gemella. Gem. 
The Queen, morament, hearing of your indisposition, is come to visit you.  Mor. 
The Queen, Gemella? Let her not be so cruel as so soon to interupt my senses in a sorrow that they are paying. But the seeing her will set me so behind by such an interposing joy, as will so lighten all I can pay after, as there will nothing pass for weight.  Enter Bellesa. Mora. 
Madam you have set all my sorrows, that I ought my friend, upon my own account for my unworthiness of so sovereign a remedy as your presence.  Bell. 
What distemper is it morament, that detained you thus long from the Society?  Mora. 
If e'er your sight did cure any Madam, call it that; for that's the only mark that I shall e'er remember it by.  Bell. 
They say you have a friendship so ieneere to you, and so refined, as you are wounded through it. What paper's that you seem to be suprised with in your hand?  Mora. 
The tenderness of friendship Madam, is the best constitution of it, and misfortunes that fall first on friends have not their weight broken by the way, but fall heavier as they bring them down upon us. This paper, Madam, is a part that I have acted personating the unhappy Prince, whose sorrows I took so cruelly on me, as they do excuse the insolence of taking his person too, in this meditation on Saphira's death.  Bell. 
Pray let me see it, morament. G●mella shown me verses of yours the other day, which I liked well, they were discreetly passionate.  Mora. 
These, Madam, I dare commend more, as they concern me not so much. I'll read them to you, Madam, in the person of the Prince upon the death of the Princess of Navarr.  
Having allowed my sorrow's choice of pain,  
They have chose this, the searching still in vain  
The cause of this strange death, and though on earth  
I find more reason for't, then for her birth,  
As curses are much more than blessings due;  
Yet that doth not seem strange enough for new.  
Methinks heaven's wisdom needed not disburse  
Such treasure, to resume it for a curse.  
But as the benefactor's use, or want,  
Doth justify resuming of his grant:  
So the recalling her doth but imply  
Her want brought heaven unto necessity,  
So heaven did re-impropriate this wealth  
Not to impoverish us but store itself.  
This than me thought, did me some reason show.  
Because, it did transcend all reason so:  
Then carried by this rapture up above,  
I found that all the gods had been in love  
With her, so as their immortality  
Would have been tedious to them, if to die  
Had been the way to her▪ so, to be even  
With all their loves, she died and went to heaven.  Bellesa. 
The cause of your pain morament ought to cease, if it depend on the finding of a cause strange enough for this lamented death. Did you ever see the Princess of Navarr?  Mor. 
I must confess, I am eased of all the pain that I have ever heard of; and that which doth remain doth not detract from your virtue Madam, since I ought to think your knowledge of it, would but improve it. In not having seen the Princess, I attribute rightly unto the Prince, who as I conceive could not possibly arrive in Albion before her death.  Bellesa. 
Sure morament, her Marriage was her death unto the Prince; that breath which did bequeath her to another, was her expiration to him.  M●r. 
I believe Madam, the having made herself away must needs lessen much his devotion to her ●●rtues; nor do I believe that e'er he meant to love her; but moved with a religious sense of those hazards of hers he was accountable for, did vow this search for expiation, not expectance of her love.  Bel. 
Sure, love is very injorious, or it is injured much by men's complaints; for, since my coming hither I have heard no pretence to a misfortune, but Love hath had the imputation of it. Sure you know what Love truly is; therefore instruct me what in itself it is, that never heard of it but criminated with sad effects.  Morament. 
I shall retract all my complaints if I be so happy as to be the first, that informs you Madam what love is, and shall do so great a service unto Love itself, as it hath but one recompense great enough for my reward.  
True Love, Madam, is a Spirit extracted out of the whole mass of virtue; and two hearts, so equal in it as they are measured by one another, are the vessels where it is refined, heated naturally by each others eyes, and joined by pipes as subtle as our thoughts, by which it runs so fast from one into another, as the exchange and the return are but one instant. And to confirm this doctrine, you Madam by this receipt may make it when you please.  Bellesa. 
The reason then that I have heard Love called a poison, is, when this Spirit is intended to too high a degree of heat.  Mor. 
If it be drawn from good ingredients, it cannot rise to an excess. Pure Love is a virtue Madam that hath no extreme; and wild desires take but Love's name, as rash blasphemers do repeat the gods by an habitual sin, by which they only do profane themselves. It is desire, Madam, you have so oft heard called poison. 'Tis true, that's a mineral which if it be not well tempered and prepared, is very dangerous; but, so disposed, it quickens the virtue of all it mixeth with.  B●l. 
Me thinks morament you conclude, There must be a conformity of two hearts for Love's composure, & so a single one that gets not another to join with it cannot attain to Love's perfections.  Mo●. 
Love's perfection Madam, is such a blessing as the gods have, not left in the power of any one to consummate▪ but, to endear it by the difficulty, have ordained it should depend on the consent of two. This rarity in nature else, would prove too cheap if every single heart could be possessed of it. Therefore I conclude that love's perfection must be such a compacted union of two hearts so close, as there's not so much as even a wish left out between them.  Bel. 
But how can this be done? For I have heard most women say, that when our hearts are softened so as they are impressive, than men think themselves their sovereigns, having set their Image on them; and so our hearts are rather wrought into subjection, than that equal union you describe.  Mor. 
I confess, Madam, there may be men as vain as women's fears: but, vanity though it take many marks upon itself, yet leaves but seldom any. It is so light, Love never feels it as it passeth over it; therefore Madam, Vanity doth but polish Love in its own conceit, and so sees itself in it, and pleaseth itself with the reflex without the impression left. But a man's heart possessed with true love as soon as it perceives but the least gentleness, where it is applied to move, then with humble insinuations it works itself under that heart, it means to raise in this injection of itself into it; so that the woman's heart is not subjected but exalted by this union.  Bellesa. 
You conclude then morament, that all love is a desire refined into the parity in union; and I have heard Martiro say, Love's soul was made of the impossibility of union: How can these two be reconciled?  Mor. 
I have heard of men so long immured up in darkness, they began to make a sight out of the habit of privation of it: and so despair at last may thus suppose itself a light, and custom may delude it, and such dark visions Madam are better wondered at then intended to disprove.  Bel. 
I confess morament, I incline more to your opinion, as the more clear by far. Martiroes' lessons are yet too hard for so young a beginner as I, I shall acknowledge myself your pupil as the first I ever understood Love by. I hope you will come abroad now. Pray give me this paper, left it make you fall into a relapse.  Mor. 
You are a greater mistress in love Madam than you know of: for I have not told you half of that I have heard of you, the repetition of which would ease me more than the repetition of all other griefs. I have so desperate a disease, Madam, I cannot hope for a relapse.  Exit Bellesa. Mora. 
Can chance be trusted with more treasure than even love can glory in, kindness from the divine Bellesa? [I shall acknowledge you the first that ere I understood love by.] How well hath she expressed her ignorance in love by speaking thus plainly of it? Thus much understood by her that said it, were theme enough to change my story, and make it more successful than ever i● was cross. But this was said by chance, to let me see fortune is so confident in my oppression, as she dare show me joys in her hand to scorn me by.  Enter Pantamora. Pan. 
I wonder morament, how so much sorrow did remain for you, since your affliction hath been parted amongst all of us. And none hath taken a larger share of it then I.  Mora. 
I need not Pantamora excuse this sense occasioned by me; since all your sex is interested more in this your loss then any one of ours, as you might glory that she was your own.  Pan. 
Sure morament the desire of that glory must have been the rack on which your soul hath been extended to raise your sorrows thus. Friendship gets not so far within us as to shake us so.  Mora. 
As friendship appropriates all joy, so Pantamora I have wished it as the greatest blessing I could wish the Prince, if he desired it, to appropriate his sorrows also.  Pan. 
This is vanity morament, that lightens through those clouds encompass it; as if you would seem to present the Prince with all you have, your love, and sorrows too. I will help you forward Morament by my belief that there goes not only your passion, but her sense of it to justify your griefs: And I confess 'tis not unlikely you should move wheresoever you should apply.  Mora. 
I was never so near any happiness as even this mistake of yours. For this, Princess, I confess; I was not in so much certainty of despair, as in all other good fortunes I have been, because I never saw her, nor she me.  Pan. 
● confess I guessed by that nearness to the Prince your sadness did avow you, you might have been employed by him in his passion to Fidamira, which we have heard of, either to divert, or delay the match, and from thence derive your interest to so much sorrow. But will you so far affirm this truth as to profess you love another now? for I cannot allow any thing else but Love such a passion of a noble heart, as this your thoughtfulness implies.  Mora. 
If I did love Pantamora, would you infer from thence the justness of my griefs, and so conclude me unhapy even by Fate?  Pan. 
No morament, It may be I believe so of your omen as I would share something in the direction of your love towards the success of it. For I should impute your misfortune sooner to your own fault in choosing, than to your ordaining Fate.  Mora. 
Suppose then Pantamora I were to love, How would you direct my choice towards an apparency of success?  Pan. 
You have a person and a virtue morament to discredit counsel by mastering improbabilityes. You may succeed in what friendship might be bound to a dissuasion in.  Mora. 
'tis true, I cannot think myself repaired by less than all that love can give, since I have suffered all it can inflict. And if I would expose myself again unto the hazard of a wish it should be such, as but the possibility of it should shame the more apparency of failing in it.  Pan. 
The attemptingnesse of your spirit is not to be reproved, but you must know that it is not difficulty, should most endear our undertake if we may rise by easy unresisted steps unto an equal height. 'tis not the scrambling up a precipice that is to be preferred where there is equality in all but easiness, there difficulty impairs and not improves the value.  Mora. 
I suppose Pantamora, all love's success is equally removed from me, therefore would I make a choice, whose eminent desperateness might some way flatter me in the disappointment of my wishes.  Pantamora. 
There may be such a virtue morament, as it may make too strict an opposition to it, a fault as an extreme too distant from it; and so, difficulty de●priseth what it would set off.  Morament. 
Such a virtue as yours Pantamora might challenge a complacency in all its wishes, that insolency in me were more misfortune than loves power reacheth to shame me with.  Pantamora. 
If you could learn to wish as I do morament, you'd find much ease in the avoiding of a harsh resistance.  Morament. 
As you do Pantamora? that's with nothing. You are in a condition never to wish, but out of charity to others.  Pantamora. 
If so, they are all now employed on you, that your nearest wishes may end with the same success as mine.  Morament. 
And in return of this civility, I shall wish no more success than I believe is due to yours.  Exit Pantamora. Morament. 
Can this too, be by chance? Sure 'tis, that each one here's an Oracle of Love. So that all that's said's ambiguous, but even this in the fairest sense could not divert me from Bellesa's riddle.  Enter Genorio. Morament. 
I congratulate, Genorio, your admission here: what think you of this place? were I not better stay here a while, then venture back so soon into that dangerous air where Fidamira breathes?  Genorio. 
I believe morament (for so I now must call you) this place already hath furnished you with such an antidote as you might venture to seek out Fidamira, and defy the power of her love. You may much less then, apprehend the danger of the place, from which she hath now removed all virtue, your father's Court.  Morament. 
Why? is she gone from thence Genorio? didst thou call her Saphira mistrusting my obligation of a sorrow great enough for her? or hast thou plague's in store for me, and dost produce them thus successively, left overcharged, I should break all in pieces?  Genorio. 
No Morament, Fidamira is not dead. She is only frighted from your father's Court by the fears of too conspicuous a life, to avoid the guilt of others sins, rumour, and calumny; and guided by her virtue, that was shy even to a degree of wildness is fled, and whither known only to the gods: your father's search hath proved that she is hid from all mortality, his care hath been so exquisite.  Morament. 
No, I am confident she is not dead by this Genorio, I could not have been so long suspended from the sense of such a curse. She's not so much as strayed, for the gods must needs guide her in a journey they have sent her.  Genorio. 
Me thinks, you should not name the gods without remembrance of the bonds of nature, and of piety you stand engaged to them in, to relieve your father; whose tenderness of all your prayers sinks under the pressure of a fresher grief than your unhappy absence, the flight of Fidamira. His goodness is such he fears more your imputation of it to the forfeit of his promise, than he fears all his present sorrows.  Morament. 
I will presently Genorio ease him of all those fears by writing to him as from France, to thank him for such honours meant to Fidamira as did make good his promise. Her fears better than her assurance proves it. I will acquaint him too, with the remove of all those sad occasions drew me from him. And I will promise him a speedy and a joyful meeting, which I will perform too; for at the next election which approacheth now, I will declare myself, and so return.  Genorio. 
This is the least you own your father Sir, but all I think you can yet spare him, engaged as you are here.  Morament. 
Well Genorio, this I resolve; and believe, you had rather stay here too then be the messenger. I must now go wait upon the Queen for my acknowledgements for the honour of her visit.  Genorio. 
I believe morament, that (Visit) may begin your Letter to your father, but hardly end it with the promise of your Resolve. Exit morament.  Genorio. 
O that I could shut up those false lights that dazzle thus my faith to Fidamira.  Enter Gemella unperceived. Gemella. 
I have found A●enor, but with a look so heavy as it weighs down his eyes, so as he hath not seen me yet, it is my darkness that hath so benighted him. I will stay yet unseen, and in the deadest time of his complaints, this cloud shall break and give him all the light, whose want obscures him so.  Geno●io. 
Have not my eyes attracted poison strong enough to stop my breath before I do break out into t●is foul profession of my tainted faith? or may I thus recover, if I can breathe it out through these opening pores, before it seizeth on the nobler parts? I will take F●damiras name, and try if that can yet expel it before it fix, there's force enough in this receipt. For this great cordial, Love, unlike to others, doth improve its virtue by the habit, not remit it; and, to enforce what I have taken inward her name and memory [he pulls out a picture] I will send this after the infection the same way it did get in, to try if this can overtake it, and so bring it back. I will not go without this shield before me. 'tis no indearment blessed Image unto thee, to say, Thou want● but speech: for I confess, I hear thee, and thou speakest as loud as thunder to me, in so just reproaches, as they welcome the amazement that they bring. Thus armed, I will go on and challenge even Bellesa to satisfy my injured Love, and to repair his honour. In this strife between these two, I'll give the odds of life.  Exit Genorio. Gemella. 
I did not think to have found Agenor thus o'er cast, he hath out done me in a disguise, he hath blacked o'er his soul. Have I lived to be obliged to a concealment of myself unto Agenor upon my discovery of him? O that I had enlightened him, before I had been thus enlightened by him! Thoughts that fly by us like instant lightnings never so little ill are not emptied sins. I might have found him dazelled, and might have freed him from the danger of this darkness he is now contesting with, and this my blind belief might well move me to that: but my misfortune's so exact, as it hath overturned the intention of the heightening of his joy down to the lowest curse between us both. I will yet find him out before he meets Bellesa with that odds which he hath offered her. I am so far from that vanity as I would not contest with her, unless advantage given me more than even Agenor for the Judge.  Exit Gemella. Enter Martiro. Mar. 
The Queen told me she visited morament, and had a great discourse with him of Love, and that she is well satisfied with Moraments reasons. Thus much is more in her then a declared fondness in another. It is not fear, struck to such a degree of cold, as makes it poisonous jealousy, that makes me thus tender of Bellesa's loving; nor my despair that's sunk so low as malice; but the supremest admiration that ever soul attained to, ●hat sets her so near the celestial bodies, as it can allow her for low mortality but such a love as there is, which is but titular, and propitiatory, far above all propriety, which undeifies all we adore. I would not have her bow nearer the world than all the worth of it can set itself to her, which is so far from rising to equality, as it can scarce get height enough for comprehension of her. Therefore I cannot consent that any thing but souls should e'er approach her, and they so purified as when they rise to heaven. I do not doubt but her high thoughts are even as undeclineable, as my wishes are. And in the belief of her being the impossibility she hath commanded me to justify in Love, I will go write my obedience to her.  Exit Martiro. Enter the Queen. B●llesa. 
What gentle fear is this that murmurs so within my thoughts, like breath of air that seems to hold discourse between the leaves? I ne'er knew any thing yet so near Love as the fear of it. But I must still these noises in my thoughts. For innocence so gentle is, we need not take the pains to blow it off, we may even think't away: therefore I must not give my thoughts the liberty to play with Love, as 'tis an infant; in belief that they can rule it.  Enter morament. Morament. 
Your Majesty will be pleased to pardon this breach of your privacies, 'twas to perfect the cure you began, by this acknowledgement of my health to your Majesty.  Bel. 
I receive gladly these acknowledgements as they declare your health, not as they bring me any belief of contribution to it.  Mor. 
To assure you Madam of the virtue of your favour I must acquaint you with news, by which I have been set up since I saw you, that might have pulled me down as low, as did Saphiras death, as I believe it will afflict the Prince as much, Fi●amiras flight; whi●●er ●nknown to all the search the King can make.  
But now I am so changed into your ●reature, that I have sense for nothing but what comes to me through yours.  Bel. 
Why, Do you think the Prince will be so much moved at this? Is there any Love can give neglect the help of a long absence to join against it, and yet master both?  Mo●. 
I do believe madam, they are strong enemies joined; but against either of them single, Love will have the better.  Boldest. 
You see morament, I persevere your pupil still. Therefore tell me whether you would choose against you, To be neglected in continual fight, or loved, enjoined to a perpetual absence.  Morament. 
You have almost posed your tutor Madam; I must confess, that I would choose the object not the speculation; neglect doth but exclude from that which we never had, but banishment doth interdict us that which is our own, and so becomes the greater curse.  Bellesa. 
You prefer then morament, the limited pleasure of one sense before the large extent of all Imaginations. It seems that you have changed that worthy passion brought you to this place, for some you have found here.  Mora. 
You were once pleased to tell me my cause resembled much the Prince, in whose name I dare dispute it, not my own. Do you think Madam the Prince is bound never to Love but Fidimira?  Bellesa. 
I yield the Prince is free, by her neglect.  M●r. 
Why did you couple us Madam, and now let us lo●se both together?  Bellesa. 
I should not tax you neither, if you loved ne'er so many.  Mo●amente. 
I do believe Madam, I am so unhappy as to be thus indifferent to you. And yet I think if you knew who I loved, you'd punish me, though you could not blame me for't.  Bellesa. 
Pray tell me not then, I do not love to be unjust.  Morament. 
I am so unhappy Madam, a● it were insolence in me not to believe you would be so. And yet it were a freedom, that all but you must be beholding to me for.  Bellesa. 
Then I should be beholding to you, not to tell me, if it will set me a● difference with all the World.  Mor. 
The difference I make between you and all the world will make you disagree most with me, and therefore I'll forbear to let you know it.  Bellesa. 
I would fall out with nobody for so little as to satisfy a light curiosity, therefore I inquire no farther of it.  Mor. 
Give me leave Madam, to beg this satisfaction from you that you would be pleased to guess at it, for I have such a divine belief of you, as I conclude you cannot so much as be mistaken in any thing.  Bel. 
To guess by your opinion, it should be with Gemella. She makes you such a full return, at least her commendations promise it.  Morament. 
'Tis a strange fate that crosseth, to be despised where ere I love, and to be wished well but to my prejudice. But you Madam, have guessed as near as if you had named any other in the whole society. And now Madam, I dare say, that your knowledge is but thus wrapped up in darkness to disguise it. I know it by my curse, your being thus insensible.  Bellesa. 
I must give o'er then the being your pupil, since you would teach me more than I would Learn.  Morament. 
If I remain but with the merit of teaching you your power Madam, though my sufferings be the demonstration of it, I shall endure all with joy.  Bellesa. 
In these high points morament, I understand you not. I'll bring Martiro to dispute with you, he may be your Master, and teach you how to rise up to the loving impossibilityes, he hath promised me to prove the reason of it. I'll show it you morament, that will reconcile you to despair.  Morament. 
You have already Madam shown me the impossibilityes, and I already find reason enough for loving them, your wil  Bellesa. 
You are mistaken morament, in the finding of my will, more than I was in the finding of your Love; even my ill will is not easily found, and much less that which you seem to seek.  Exit Bellesa. Mor. 
No certainty hath been a torment great enough for me; must I now suffer doubt, which hath not so much ease as a despair was curse enough to fit me with?  
I could have resolved on any thing that could have fallen on me; but this suspension is a Rack, whose wavering flackness is the height of torture, which excludeth a patience towards the ease of the endurance. I cannot impute these words to chance. I am enlightened even thus far for a curse, to see she understands my passions. I shall declare myself, and join the name of Prince to that of Lover, to assist me. No, I will try once more the single strength of morament, which if it prove too weak, I'll call that of Prince for my Auxiliary; which must needs help me to be wondered at, if not beloved. Sure Martiro hath not broke his faith for so little as Bellesa's information; it must be for his own indearment, and my distance from her.  Enter Martiro. M●r. 
Is the Queen this way, morament?  Mor. 
She's newly parted hence, Martiro.  Mar▪ 
I am seeking her with a command of hers, and so have only time to tell you that freedom to a noble hart doth not let lose a secret, but allows it more room as 'twere a recreation, and that impression trust makes on virtue, seals in that instant what it opens. And believe me M●ramente you shall always find the marks unbroken up. Exit Martiro.  Mor. 
This must be true too for the exactness of my curse, that there may not be so much reason, as an ill office for her scorns, but all Antipathy. I will dispatch to my father as I have promised Genorio, The circle now of Bellesas reign is almost closed, and the last point that perfects that, shall open me away unto that end I own my fate.  Ex●t morament Enter Mellidoro and Camena Mel. 
If my own joys were not sufficient to proclaim the debt I own you Camena, the terror of those sufferings of which I am judge, and not a party, might well endear this, even security, that you have settled me in.  Came. 
Methinks indeed we two are only fixed, the rest in perplexed motions cross on another. What a storm of passions is amongst us now?  Meli. 
We Camena are arrived at Love's supremest region, where there is all serenity and evenness; there's not a breath of wind to ruffle this our smoothness: and from thence we look down on others, that are gone no higher than the second region yet, where's always roughness and storms that blow against them.  Cam 
Are there not some so happy loves as to arrive at this high station of secure joys, without ere passing through this harsh uneasy way?  Meli. 
There is a lower region Camena, where common unrefined lovers stay, and joy in flat security, whose pleasure is but an acquiescence. But all aspiring love that seeks to pitch itself in this sublimity of joy and glory, must pass through this middle region, where it finds a stormy opposition.  Cam. 
This is the passage then, which Morament, Genorio, and Martiro, are disputing now; I do confess I do pity morament, and I could wish mine into Bellesa.  Mel. 
Why? do you think, Camena, that Bellesa and Pantamora are not moved? do you think that women are like winds, that do not feel the storms they raise?  Cam. 
I do believe Bellesa so unmoved, she doth not understand the storm you speak of by the noise of it, Pantamora hath a restless humour, to which no motion is disquiet, nor no noise a storm.  Meli. 
Do you not believe Camena, that Bellesa doth act the Queen's part more than her own, in this distancing of herself from any sense of Moraments love?  Cam. 
I do not know. Methinks she hath so equal and significant a liberty, as it speaks all things that she doth natural, as I believe her the perfection of our sex. I cannot think her void of sense but I believe it sinks no deeper than the face of that civility, where men do see it set, and make a return ●o morament.  M●l. 
Love Camena makes his approaches according to the hart it sets upon. All hearts well fortified have outworks, which must be taken first, civility and freedom of discourse; and lodged once there, there he gins his batteries. Morament hath taken these outworks▪ and therefore I believe he may endanger all the rest.  Cam. 
I believe so well of Moram●ntes discretion, I think it will not pretend to more than Bellesas honour promiseth. Which is enough to make him happy, to be so discreet to humour him.  Mel. 
How much do you think her humour will afford?  Cam. 
Leave to be adored, and to be told so discreetly of it, as you may give her leave to answer.  Mel. 
And is this enough for a discreet love to live upon; So you'll allow Love nothing but his wits to live upon.  Cam. 
'tis the best portion he can have Melidoro, and upon that stock Love cannot want, though he be often put to his shifts. There's nothing so sure a maintenance to leave, as wit. 'tis subject to no casualty.  Mel. 
You have given me the reason I sought, how Martiro's love subsists: no body knows who he serves, or what it hath to entertain itself. Sure th●n it must live by its wits.  Cam. 
Martiro's love is a proof of what I say. We see it lives nobly, and is beholding unto no body.  Mel. 
That which is a disease in nature then, is a good constitution in love, The living without nourishment. And I do so little envy this singularity, as I may sa●ely be allowed to wonder at it, how this dark passion could hover so long above us without ever making of a point.  Cam. 
I will comply with him so much, as not to guess at it, for fear I light of it but by chance. Methinks Genorios clouds begin to break already, and send forth some light that glimmers yet between Bellesa and Pantamora.  Mel. 
Do you think, he that so lately was death's Herald, will so soon change sides, and serve the adverse party Love?  Cam. 
'Twas in love's service that he took that commission, and 'tis but changing colours, and serving the same party still.  Enter Bellesa and Gemel●a. Bel. 
Fear not Gemella, Men are not so subject to despair; the least ambiguous word will hold them▪ they will stay themselves even by the finest thread they can but catch before they sink. Gentle Camena, as much joy wait on your wishes, as I dare say you wish to mine.  Cam. 
Your condition and person Madam, save your servants the pain of wishes, and leave them only that of being incapable of admiring you enough.  Enter Genorio, looking on a Picture. Gem. 
I was here before him, but now must venture my patience and my love.  Gen. 
I am now grown so strong, 'tis too much odds to be thus armed, and too great a revenge on Bellesa to show her this my strength, she will believe herself weakened by it. I shall be so far from loving her, she will not love herself.  Bel. 
What's that Genorio, your eyes so fixtly seem to call your mind upon? Hath it with-drawn your tongue too?  Gen. 
'twas a little manual of devotion I was looking over. It was so long Madam since I had read it, I had almost forgot it.  Bel. 
Let me see't, Genorio. I do not think but I can show you as good a one.  Gen. 
I believe that, madam. Sure never any body contested with you to your face. And I, Madam, yield without showing.  Bel. 
No Genorio, I will show with you: flattery is so ill in nothing as in piety.  Gen. 
Give me leave Madam only to yield now▪ and another time, to show you I had reason. I will put the book into your hands, you shall peruse it.  Bel 
I will be civiller than you Genorio. I'll yield to your refusal, since you will not to my desire.  Gen. 
To show you, Madam, that even your curiosity is already above my devotion, and more dear to me, I'll put this into your hands, whose showing is a ●ark of yielding.  Bel. 
Now I must ask your pardon, Genorio. This is a devotion which I yield to at first sight, without examining how much you are addicted to it. Look here Gemella, here's a face that makes your colour better than mine as you cannot blush to see it.  Gem. 
'tis a lovely face, and you may safely commend it, methinks I have seen somewhere a face, that upon a little thinking I should know this picture by.  Gen. 
As beauty is best exalted by comparison, you Madam may receive this as a devotion to you, but I believe all beauty is so assuredly your trophy, as 'tis no merit to bring any to you.  Bel. 
This is such a face Gemella, there must go much virtue in a woman to the loving of it, because it is not easy to do so.  Gem. 
Madam, I remember now who 'tis. As I passed by the Court I had curiosity, hearing Fidamira so much talked of for the Prince his Mistress, to see her, and I remember perfectly Madam this is her Picture.  Gen. 
'Tis true Madam, 'tis her you have taken from me.  Bel. 
I have borrowed it Genorio, to restore it you better, by as much as our admiration can improve it.  Gem. 
It would be cruelty Madam to keep it, for surely he is in love with her.  Gen. 
As I am with you Gemella. And if you Madam are but pleased with looking on't as you seem to be, you may be pleased to keep it, and I shall love it then better than ever, as it pleaseth you.  Bel. 
Let not your civility Genorio be so bold with your Love, make much of this Picture, for they may say she is fled out of all knowledge, so, that not so much as her Picture is likely to be had again.  Gen. 
It may be Madam, she is gone to search that loft which she once cast away, the Prince. women's esteems are governed by uncertainties: but had I loved her near so much, she could not take this ill, ●o be left in your hands.  Gem. 
Fidamira's valuation of her faith above a Crown assures me she cannot let it fall so low, as the seeking to put it off.  Bel. 
Here Genorio, take your Picture; and in your private devotions recant this dissembling of your faith.  Enter Martiro. Bel. 
Here comes Martiro that is so tender of his mistress Picture, he's afraid the air should fade the colours, and therefore shows it us but vailed.  Mar. 
My Love Madam is not material but elementary fire, whose purity and rarity makes it imperceptible. I have obeyed you Madam in making the impossibility of the knowledge of it visible.  Bel. 
We will all hear it then, since we can't see it, Come Camena, and Melidoro, this is your love inverted, and you may safely hear without conversion.  Mar. 
I will read them to you, Madam.  
I'll ask no more love's strangest raptured why  
They speak so much impossibility  
Since love hath taught me to believe, and prove,  
It is the essence of transcendent love.  
To make even love corporeal, and subsist  
You must allowed a soul that may resist  
Reason: and wonder needs must be that soul,  
For nothing else can reason so control.  
If gross material love do then aspire  
So high as wonder for a soul, than higher  
Must that spiritual and sublimate,  
That's not extracted out of will, but Fate,  
Derive its soul, and higher must imply  
Then wonder needs, impossibility.  
Since than pure love will take its soul but thence,  
From whence is vilified our noblest sense,  
This sets supremest love above event  
And proves all sensual lovers impotent.  
My love's not that material flame,  
That's let but by attraction from the same.  
It is a lightning in my soul, which is  
Kindled by an Antiperistasis.  
It is so far above our commonsense  
As contrarieties make it more intense.  
Nor can this meteor Love remit its heat,  
It needs no fomentation, but it's seat,  
Where no terrestrial exhalations are  
It shall be fixed, and be a blazing star.  Bel. 
Sure Martiro they that could understand these verses might know your Mistress, the impossibilities to me seem equal. But we will send for morament. It concerns him to disprove them; Gemella, pray call morament:  Mar. 
This is the reason Madam, not the passion which is to be understood.  Mel. 
Why? will you bring reason Martiro for impossibilityes?  Mar. 
I Melidoro, and so good as 'tis impossible for you to understand. You have a limited Horizon terminates your thoughts, that reach no farther than your senses carry them. They must be shot up to the top of speculations, to be even with the understanding this.  Mel. 
And I shall not envy these your winged thoughts that help you thus above ground.  Mar. 
And I shall still think myself above any foundation you can stand upon.  Enter Gemella, morament, Pantamora. Gem. 
Madam I met morament & Pantamora coming.  Bel. 
I sent for you morament, to make good my promise, that Martiro would prove the height of love reached to impossibilityes. And he hath written on that argument.  Mor. 
I should be glad to hear that it were possible to say near reason on this theme.  Bel. 
I pray Martiro read your verses o'er again they may endure repetition.  War. 
I shall obey you, confident of Moraments judgement, if not assent. [Martiro reads his verses again.]  Mor. 
I conceive your meaning Martiro, that since all love must have a soul as high as wonder, some may rise as high as impossibility: this, Madam is a point of faith, not to be disproved by reason, because it denies all principles in love. I would only ask Martiro whether his love did not pass first through his senses up to his imagination; and so the impossibility of staying there, conveyed it where now it is pitched; and it was necessity, not choice that drew it up so high.  Mar. 
No morament: My love had ne'er so low a thought as hope, it risen within my soul which did disdain always to wish for any thing out of its own power. I never did expose it to the hazard of a wish, the nature of it was angelical, at first infinite, without need of propagation.  Mor. 
As miracles Martiro are not to be disproved, so are they not to be alleged for arguments, in this case Martiro you may not only allow your wishes, but your contribution to all others love.  Bel. 
Sure morament, it is a great security in love Martiro hath attained, to have all his wishes in his power.  Mar. 
You Madam are in such a security as you have not power to wish.  Bel. 
Learn morament of Martiro to assure your love thus by making it impossible.  Mor. 
I will learn that Madam of none but you.  Gem. 
(Whispers to morament) And learn of me to hope.  Exeunt all but Genorio, and Gemella. Gen. 
Vouchsafe me a word Gemella. What injury did you foresee I would do you, that you would advance me such a discourtesy?  Gem. 
That I may assure you Genorio, I did not suspect any injury from't. I would certainly have forgiven you if I had, and not have been in danger of revenge which this discourtesy I know not of, might by a careless innocence seem to resemble.  Gen. 
It seems indeed you did not care so much whether it were true, or no, when you told the Queen I was in love with Fidamira, since you could not so much, as guess by any thing you know.  Gem. 
If I had said, she had been in love with you, you might have been offended at such a temptation unto vanity, considering her story. But I thought the Queen's opinion of the Picture would have indebted you to me for such a choice.  Gen. 
Do you think Gemella that any face, even with a promised faith to help it▪ could defend itself against Bellesae? Can you think then that a Picture could have life enough, even to remember what it was?  Gem. 
I believe Genorio faith much more lovelier than beauty: and it must needs be so; since all beauty doth but aspire to it, and 'tis the greatest Miracle beauty can wish, creating more than itself, which it doth producing faith. I would not allow all the world's beauty to contest with Bellesa; but I should prefer the least faith before all her beauty my face with such advantage might dispute with hers.  G●n. 
I am glad Gemella you have told me how precious and excellent a thing faith is: sure, it is the fit for a sacrifice to the divine Bellesa.  Gem. 
'Tis of a strange nature Genorio, 'tis only precious kept, not given away: as soon as we would lose it; to transfer it annihilates and becomes nothing, to show us, that as soon as we intent its profanation, it can punish us, by leaving us only an impotency of having any, instead of the power we would take to dispo●● of it.  Gen. 
I do confess Gemella, all passions but love break faith, as they carry it from one unto another: but that may convey it as entire as spirits may be poured from one glass into another without loss of virtue.  Gem. 
'Tis true Genorio, when love gins to work upon it to transfer it, it ceaseth then to be in us; and therefore love would disguise the loss of it by the pretence of our disposing of it: when indeed there is no faith left, but the believing love, by which we seem to justify our infidelity.  Gen. 
Would you censure one of infidelity that should but change his invocation, to raise his devotion up to a more dignified, and glorious Saint? why, Bellesa is the supremacy itself of love, and all appeals are due to her from all love's lower seats.  Gem. 
Methinks Genorio, it were an injury to such a Judge to appeal upon confession of a perjury. Think G●norio, what a sentence you can expect, when you are so bold to bring guilt to plead for you. I perceive you did love Fidamira, and now you would bring your broken faith unto Bellesa, as a scar you have received in her service, by which you would pretend reward. Suppose she should receive you into love's hospital, feign charitable pity; this were all the preferment you could hope, to be entertained to praise her goodness, if she forgive the crime.  Gen. 
My crime to Fidamira must needs be meritorious to Bellesa▪ and methinks I cannot fear any thing so low in love with her as all that I could hope with Fidamira.  Gem. 
Mark Genorio, how you are already punished for your inconstancy, in your own choice of an assured torment; for 'twere a derogation from her not to believe it; and consider what an affliction it will be to you to be the first that must make her a curse to any thing. And I confess I cannot pity you.  Gen. 
O say not so Gemella, I was resolved to beg more of you. Do you think I would have cast away such a secret without the hope of a return? I have lessened that to you, which you call sin, the breach of faith, by having so entire a one of your virtue and honour as to trust you so.  Gem. 
Faith, Genorio, is all the beauty nature hath bestowed on me; and I am interressed as much in her disfiguring, as handsome women would believe themselves obliged, not to protect a man, that had by violence defaced one of that company. Therefore all you can expect from me, is not to conspire a revenge, which I will promise you.  Gen▪ 
I do believe you so generous, Gemella, as even an injury done you would not discourage me, from a pretence to courtesy. This is one, I may believe, you take upon you, to endear the charity you may vouchsafe me. You may defeat even my ill destiny, which cannot have malignity enough to resist the virtue of your intending my felici●y.  Gem. 
I will already be so charitable, as to prevent your saying that, which must oblige me to a contribution to your misery. You may know by this, I understand what you would ask of me: I will forget it, and leave you, and only tell you my fears, and not my wishes in your fortune. You shall live to see your wishes so enjoyed, you shall not dare to own them. And you shall so repent this your sin, your sad contrition shall be such, it shall not hope forgiveness when you see your Judge, whose sight shall, notwithstanding, make your wishing it, a well proportioned torment.  Gen. 
There cannot be, Gemella, such a sin in loving of Bellesa, as repentance. You have forespoke a curse is not in my misfortune's power.  Gem. 
I will assure you, I am not so unhappy as to wish it. Exit Gemella.  Gen. 
I broke my heart to pieces, Fidamira, first, before I broke my faith, to try if I could loosen this chain, Bellesa's eyes, Love's surest Engines had fastened it: And as it was falling a pieces, it fell upon Bellesa's eyes, that have so joined it now, I find it a chain of flame that cannot be unlinked. Those links of faith and hono●● that should pull me back to Fidamira, I find are now so soft, as they melt away, set by this chain of Love. Sure, Love hath strange joy in store for me, for it already hath turned all the blessings that I had, into frights, the memory of Fidamira, and the Prince's trust. I must no more appear to Basilino the figure that I was; I must become a perspective, looked on at distance, whose hollowness is a delight, though a deceit. I must have Arches and Vaults to hid my love, when I do show myself. Methinks Love prompts me this to answer all my fears.  
Why should we fear, bold Love, when though it brings  
Us to a Precipice, we know hath wings?  Enter morament. Gen. 
Look where he comes▪ I must now try whether his love be above his trust to me. What melancholy is this, morament that is so dark, as seems to draw a traverse between your trust and me?  Morament. 
Can you be in doubt Genorio of the causes of my sadness when you brought them me? do you think the world can furnish any more after Saphira's death, and Fidamira's flight?  Genorio. 
Yes morament I do believe a present passion may overcast more than the darkest memory of misfortunes past; which both those are, which you have named.  Morament. 
It seems Genorio, you rely so much upon your prophecies, as you believe I have exchanged my sorrows here.  Genorio. 
No morament, I believe that all the virtue of this place is vented upon your happiness; and that you are possessed of joys, which your modesty makes you even scrupulous to show me, lest it might resemble vanity.  Morament. 
I could not have so much as ease Genorio, which would not be lessened by the fault of the concealment of it from thy trust. If I had a new affliction, the tenderness of thee might justify the keeping that unto myself.  Genorio. 
This needs not morament, I am already prepared with as high a sense of your joys as this descent to the extremity of fear can raise me to; and let your blessings be never so sacred, you ought not to keep them vailed from me.  Morament. 
You suppose then Genorio, I love, and with success. I did not think I had been so near a happiness as even a friends mistake. I had thought my crossefate had been known to every body, to warn them even from wishing me well, lest they might share in my misfortune. But I perceive your love Genorio will venture so far, as to suppose me happy.  Gen. 
Nay sir, I am so confident of your fate, as I dare refuse your belief in the discredit of it. I can disprove you by instinct of nature. Bellesa and you have an Identity in your beings, you are the perfection of both sexes, and therefore cannot be a verse to one another.  Mora. 
I thought how probable your guesses would prove, Genorio. Why, they are grounded on a parity with Bellesa: you could not have found in all the world such an impossibility to have inferred my good fortune by. And I believe you now Genorio, I am now as near being happy, as being equal to Bellesa, between whom there is as much distance as between possession and despair.  Genorio. 
Had I believed there could have been a greater exaltation of Bellesa's worth, then being made to make you happy, I would have raised her by it, for I dare vie admirations of Bellesa, even with you.  Mor. 
You must learn higher expressions then, Genorio than to match her with mortality: but 'tis a subject silence can better comprehend, than you or I illustrate; therefore let's fall lower to what we understand, my father's condition, and his desire of my return. I have already writ to him in promise of my return, and assured him Fidamira is only thought of now by me, by the fears of his affliction, not my Love.  Genorio. 
You have done piously, and wisely Sir: this next election which is very near will give you a fair opportunity for your father's wish, if not your own.  Mor. 
Come Genorio let's go see the Queen, and prepare ourselves for the ceremony instituted for the foundress, and the Prince's memory.  Genorio. 
I will wait on you Sir,  Exit morament. 
I am happy thus far even in this reservation from me, which allows my prosecution of my Love without more breach of my faith to my Prince. Exit Gen.  Enter Gemella. Gemella. 
The contemplation of inconstancy hath justified Agenor to me; it has taken off the fault from him, and laid it upon nature. I find all things were made for a viciscitude of exchange; not only here below, but even above: they say the heavens are in restless motion, and I am sure that the earth which they say is fixed, is in continual change. It altars so, as we should not know it were the same, did we not know that it must change. And time, that changeth all things, is itself by fortune changed in this general earthquake. Then how can we hope for an unmoved constancy in Love?  
And men that single are so variable before, and joining lightness so much more.  
'Tis I then for being constant among all these changes am unnatural, this was the miracle Agenor prophesied at our parting. I was destined to the retaining of my faith, after the loss of his, provoked by his intent of making me the procurer of my own spoils unto another, This injury I lay on my disguise, and to discharge him of it, he shall not have so much an ill office from me towards his being despised by Bellesa. I begin now to find, that there is no danger of his being preferred by any but myself, before the Prince whom now I find the gods so justly love, as I am made a sacrifice to his presage of never being enjoyed by man. I doubt not but his fate will soon accomplish mine upon Agenor, and were it not for his happiness, I would not wish any thing so ne●r revenge.  Exit Gemella. Enter Pantamora. Pan. 
Unless I should myself unveil my love, and so profane it by showing that, which I would have sought to with reverence; I cannot put a more transparent cover over it. I have showed it through so clear a tiffany as the least breath of Morament's would have blown away. And he me-thought did hold his breath, as if he had been afraid to see't. Sure women's loves are emblemed well by cockatrices eyes It gives, if it be first seen, a power o'er itself, which it gets on another that it discovers first. I have not yet so little reason for self love, as to venture it upon so doubtful a return, as Moraments seems to be. Sure he hath discovered some modest tenderness in Bellesa, that gins to bow her from that strait indifference she seems planted in. There cannot be so much difference between us as between hope and despair.  
Sure Gemella is the dark lantern that opens some light to morament. I will rather give my own sex the advantage of doubting there may be one preferred, than any man the vanity to think that I could● else be thus indifferent to him.  
As soon as I this truth shall prove  
So soon shall I leave off to love.  
And love will lose by it more than I,  
Men will find other ways to court me by.  Enter Bellesa, Martiro, Gemella. Bel. 
That were too much Gemella, sure vanity is rather in your country then here: 'tis true, 'tis of another colour, lightsome and bright, therefore it may be unknown amongst you.  Gem. 
Why Madam, are men in love here subject to so much leightnes, as they must always keep in the dark for fear of running mad? do you use here to make love and scorn both of a colour?  Bel. 
No Gemella, but the first ground whereon all love's figures are wrought must be somewhat dark; it sets off all the colours that are laid upon it.  Gem. 
But these colours madam must be set within distance, else the ground and they are all one.  Bel. 
There is no man but hath a perspective of vanity about him, by which he lessens the distance of his wishes which he looks upon.  Gem. 
I believe Madam there are some men so overcast with humble diffidence they could not know love if they saw it. Madam ask Martiro.  Bel. 
What say you Martiro, Is not vanity now a days so quick fighted, as it perceives the least colour of kindness women can show at any distance?  Mar. 
Vanity Madam sees by the emission of its own rays, not by the reception of the object. And therefore may not only reach most distant lights; but, as it were, strike fire in the dark. But this irradiation of themselves is not in all men's eyes. There are some filled up with admiration so, as they see nothing but an optic light.  Bel. 
Why even such men are vain, Martiro, in this elevation of their thoughts above the height of wishes.  Mar. 
If this be vanity Madam, 'tis elementary and not material. The purity and delicacy of it, is such, it doth not burn, 'tis only nutritive to love, and not offensive.  Gem. 
You need not Martiro read such lectures in the air unto the Queen, she is already distant from love's visibility above imagination.  Bel. 
Gemella would persuade me Martiro, I might love without a declination of myself.  Martiro. 
Love, Madam, appropriates what it joins unto itself, and do you think a partner in the sovereignty of yourself were not half a deposition?  Gem. 
This insensibleness you counsel Martiro, is rather an admission to equality, leaving all hearts free, and Bellesa's can be no more itself. 'tis an enlargement of her sovereignty to take homage from such hearts as shall bow down to offer it. If you will give self-love Martiro the empire that women should glory in, how limited will that be when they shall have no subject but themselves? All I counsel the Queen is, that she would know herself too. For beauty sees itself best, by the rereflexes that it makes on objects whereon it shines.  Mar. 
A heart that looks at first for so much from the Queen as an acknowledgement, sets too high a price upon it. Should every meanest subject pretend to have his name known to his sovereign because he is what he should be? It must be some eminent service must allow him that pretence for a reward. And the sovereignty of love is distanced more from the approach of any subject to it. No blood, qualities, nor no fortune raiseth nearer than the common prostituted crowd. All are commons in an equal slavery, and the pretention to advantage is rebellion.  Bel. 
Therefore Gemella, the Queen is not obliged to look so low as even the knowledge of any of her Subjects, till their services not their subjection challenge it, and then the taking notice of it, is all she should give.  Bellesa. 
This an Empire you have found for your Mistress, Martiro, and 'tis a spacious one, 'tis all air, your thoughts are not subject to any thing sure so low as earth.  Gemella. 
I dare say Madam, his Mistress, who e'er she be, reacheth not so near divinity in any of his exaltations of her, as you do in this humility.  Mar. 
You have exalted Madam my Mistress higher than e'er my thoughts could set her, the taking of her Name into your mouth. I believe she is so much worthier than even my Imaginations of her, as even the noblest of your thoughts cannot exceed her. I am glad Madam, to hear that miracles are not ceased, it lessens much the wonder, the being made for you.  Bellesa. 
You are in such a transcendent height above all sense Martiro, as methinks miracles should not amaze you. Come Gemella, we must prepare ourselves for the funeral Ceremonies of the foundress and the Prince.  Gemella. 
I'll wait on you Madam. But shall I carry him no comfort, not so much as an ambiguous word?  Bellesa. 
You see Gemella, I have so little confidence in men, I dare not trust Marti●oes counsel, that aught to be the most unsuspected, as my ancient friend.  Gem. 
If I can make something out of this nothing Madam, you cannot be offended.  Mar. 
I must fly to silence to collect an admiration great enough for this miracle I hear.  Enter the King. Exeunt. King. 
As dying men whose spirits having run out their course are now so out of breath, they can scarce carry the soul one step farther; yet sometime as she is going out of them, refreshed with some strong cordial, the spirits rise again, and hold her there a while: Like lamps exspiring when they shut their eyes, given but a drop of oy●e, dart forth an instant flash, and live a while, not by that life that they had left, but did receive anew. This was my case. My spirits had scarce so much motion left as panting, when they received this cordial, this so sovereign remedy, as it hath recovered a King, whose disease it was before the being so. I find more than a reflection of my spirits in change of them into a youthfulness. I am already grown better than he that ministered this cure Basilino, by as much as I Love Fidamira more than he. [I think on Fidamira now only by the sense of your afflictions for her, which if He reads i● Basilinoe's Letter. you had forgot I should once more think of her to rejoice at your forgetting her, and never more.] Now Fidamira I am free to think of thee which I do fully. I will forget even that which is so hard, to do, my age. I cannot be so old. I have been all this while in wardship to my Son, he hath till now disposed of my love. I am to d●y but come of years, and now my passions come into my own hands, which I will all bestow on Fidamira.  
This from Basilino must imply that some success hath so possessed his thoughts, as the remembrance of his sufferings cannot get so much as one, and only my affliction now can make him think that he is capable of any: he hath such superfluities of joys, as I am fed out of his waste. I find my body and my soul so reconciled, the one offers curiosity, the other strength to satisfy it. A visit to the shepherd's Paradise is a design worthy the newness of my thoughts, the election of their Queen is now within three or four days, and I have heard of such eminent beauty there, that it will be the greatest right I can do Fidamira to carry her memory thither to dislustrate even their faces.  
I'll ask no more of love but being thus kind  
He would conform my body to my mind.  Exit King. Enter the Society to the Ceremony; and after other ceremonies past, Votario approacheth the Tomb. Votorio. 
ADmired payr! whose wonders did perplex  
All judgement to decide to either sex  
Advantage, so each chose to live alone,  
Left joining so, the one might th' other own  
And so you both, did one another love  
Too well to be but one, until above  
Meeting, you were ordained to be but one  
And now shine in a constellation.  
Vouchsafe that by your sacred influence  
We may be drawn to follow you from hence.  Bellesa. 
Peace wait upon your souls which seem ● ' hav' been.  
Such as you died, but for reward not sin.  
Our virtues here even in their best extent  
Are but erected for your monument.  Pantamora. 
Fair parallels whose souls so purely met,  
It seems that they your bodies did forget,  
Each being more than all the world forbore  
The having one another to have more.  
So short of you our imitation stays,  
As we can hardly reach you with our praise.  Mor. 
Wonder of women on whose chastity  
H●●ven hath bestowed such a posterity.  
As is a self perpetuation  
Without the help of propagation.  
We thus your Children in our yearly task  
Come here to leave our prayers, and blessing ask.  Cam. 
Rest glorious couple in that greater bliss  
You went to take, when you did leave us this.  
Be pleased your virtues back to us to send,  
Now they have brought you to your journey's end.  Mel. 
You that were such your virtues asked no less  
Reward from Heaven, than all the world to bless.  
Even after you were gone, so did entice  
The Gods to let you make a Paradise  
For mortals, which your virtues still implore,  
That following you, we may yet owe you more.  Mar. 
Divinest Lovers, 'bove the praise of breath,  
So much you scorned to join by less than Death.  
By which emission you so much enjoy,  
As one another would but seem a toy.  
Accept this tribute, and our souls inspire,  
So fare towards your example, as desire.  Gem. 
Illustrious Lights of honour, and of Love,  
We but your shadows are that shine above.  
Vouchsafe t' obtain that we, as shadows do,  
May be admitted too, to follow you.  Gen. 
Blessed souls that copied Heaven here so  
Together, as each other not to know.  
I find these marks which Paradise imply,  
As gain of sight, and loss of memory.  
This scruple only now doth here remain,  
That I cannot from wishing yet refrain.  
If it were meant this Heavenly residence,  
Should but refine, and not extinguish sense.  
Let it my grosser spirits so refine,  
As my undarkened soul may through them shine.   

The Fifth Act.  After the Ceremony of the Toomb, Genorio stays alone. Gen. 
Methinks I find my mind on wing, lose from my senses, which like limed twigs held it till now. It is so light, and so ascensive now, it means to work itself above Martiroes. I am already so fare towards it, as the belief that I did never love till now. O how I was deceived, while I conceived that Love was so material it could be touched, and grasped! I find it an undepending ayrinesse that both supports, and fills itself, and is to be felt by what it nourisheth, no more than air, whose virtue only we discern. I knew before, all I could have. I am so fare above that now, I cannot suppose what I can hope, and yet am better pleased with this, this inoffensive purity of my love emboldens me to show it to Bellesa, and in humility to her, it shall ask somewhat of her, as begging is the only Present impotency hath to make to power, and it shall be so far from being sensual, it shall be nothing but belief.  Enter Bellesa. Bel. 
Your sadness seems so welcome to you, as I may excuse the interruption of it.  Gen. 
You are so fare from interruption of it Madam, as you bring the cause along with you.  Bel. 
Have you not yet forgiven my curiousity to see the Picture? are you of Martiroes' mind?  Gen. 
Why she's an angel even in the knowledge of men's thoughts. I? what, Madam, do you think I am of Marti●oes mind?  Bel. 
In keeping your love invisible, and therefore are displeased that we saw so much as the shadow of it.  Gen. 
I am not of his mind in that. I would show mine, because 'tis such a wonder, it will not else be believed, and as wonders Madam hardlyobtaine that, so mine shall pretend to no more.  Bel. 
Do you pretend Genorio to be a friend unto the Prince, and will make the Loving Fidamira a wonder in any body?  Gen. 
Yes Madam, that were a greater, after having seen you, then that which I shall tell you.  Bel. 
I have only leisure now to tell you Genorio, that in revenge of this flattery, I will accuse you of it to your friend morament, who loves the Prince so much, a● he will chide you for it. I am now going into a privacy, I must desire to leave you.  Gen. 
I am so cursed Madam, as truth seems dis-lustred by my bringing it. I never committed sin enough against another, to be equal to this punishment As He goes out, He says. of leaving you. [To what am I transformed when the name Fidamira is a torture to me?]  Bellesa alone. Bel. 
Sure M●ramente hath employed his friend Genorio to save him the shame of speaking for himself, Genorio speaks so boldly it must needs be for another. I need not be so shy of this my though●fullnesse, since all the virtues they should fix upon, are here objected to them in Moramants carriage; Love and honour bend by humility into a lovely Arch, on which my thoughts may safely pass on towards his person, which when I consider I find it such, as scarce needs humility to recommend it. His Fate hath so directed him to me, as he hath had a real sense of my misfortune, and his destiny hath been so kind to him in that, as to indebt me some pity to him, as myself and the reviving of Saphira, though it be by Bell●sa's death, 'twill not be welcome to him. Methinks my thought would take air a little to refresh themselves. That Infant love that's come to visit them, would carry them abroad with him; they shall go with him, and be so civil as to entertain him with music.  
Press me no more kind love, I will confess  
And tell you all, nay rather more than less.  
So you will promise me, when I have told you then  
Not to bring m● to witness it to men.  
Though thusy ' are strong enough to make me speak,  
Helped out by virgin-shame you'll be too weak  
If I find thus I may be safely free,  
Best by this freedom I engaged may be.  
I find a glowing heat that turns red hot  
My heart, but yet it doth not flame a jot.  
It doth but yet to such a colour turn,  
It seems to me rather to blush than burn.  
You would persuade me that that flaming light  
Rising will change this colour into white,  
I would fain know if this whites inference  
Pretend pale guilt, or candid innocence.  
If you you will tell me which, without deceit,  
I will allow you light as well as heat.  
Then take you care of me, a mean● so rare  
Betwixt men's vanity, and their despair.  
I find so gentle drowsiness flow o'er my senses, as if my thoughts had wearied them in carrying them thus far; and my thoughts are so innocent they do not oppose the rest my senses ask.  She falls a sleep. And morament enters to her. Mor. 
Was it the rapture my soul was always in, when she contemplates the divine Bellesa, that did present her voice unto me here in heaven? Sure it was: her soul, useless now unto her body, is gone to He sees her here lie sleeping and stands wondering, visit heaven, and did salute the Angels with a song. Let sleep no more be called death's Image, here is an animation of it. Sure, all the life that sleep takes from the rest of the world he hath brought hither and lives here. Methinks I should be innocent too now. Sure had I but even an ill coloured thought, her soul that is in heaven would know it, and come back to awake her with the alarm. I will stay at this distance still, and only take this advantage now to wonder. Neerer her thus parted from her soul than I can do, united [he goes to step toward her] Doth the ground move to carry me nearer than my soul durst go? 'tis true, I find it is the earthliness about me moves me nearer, than my reverence should keep me. Methinks I am so near her now, as I all soul, my body by whose carriage it was brought, is now recoiled and my spirit is now shot out upon Bellesa. And thus all spirit I may touch her and not be felt. Therefore thus all my soul abstracted shall fall upon her hand, to do it reverence. My spirit hath found a body in He kisseth her hand, this touch, and such a one as it cannot contain from venturing to lose itself to touch but this again [he kisseth her hand again, and she gins to stir] I was afraid the least mixture of a body would disquiet hers by that a version she hath to all, the first spiritual touch moved her to note then several airs that join move one another. Never was so much fear in any body without the will of flying it 'tis but just my body thus refined should be stayed here, now to expect its sentence.  Bel. 
My soul's sentinels kept not so ill watch, as not to rise up against this attempt upon them. I should be glad to find some body else here morament, to whom to impute this insolence which is so great, as it almost justifies you to me for not having been the committer of it. Was it not somebody that's fled? I can hardly think any body durst do this and stay till I did wake to punish it.  Mor. 
No Madam, he is so far from flying, as he is stayed here to glory in it. My spirit that was innocent that fled for fear of being suspected, and I remain all body here exposed to your displeasure. And if you'll give me leave to call back my soul with suspicion of it, that shall beg punishment for this offender. And you shall reward her innocence in parting from this guilt that was about her. And you may punish this body opportunely now. For life sure was never so dear to it as now, it's so affected with its crime. And do it quickly Madam while your power will allow it, that my soul may leave you in this world what it hath so much wished to see you continue in, the quality of Queen.  Bel. 
'tis a new insolence, this punishment you ask, that I should descend so low as but think upon your body. I shall think your mind less worthy than I did, and so much, I shall not think it very sensible of its declination in my thoughts.  Mor. 
Mistake not Madam, the only thing in this world impossible to you is the guiltiness of my mind. 'tis not in my power to be so complacent unto you, as to afford i● you. Your ill opinion of it may lie so heavy on its innocence, as to bow it out of its own frame▪ But even than It will become an arch triumphant, whose very incurvation will become a beauty, as it was made so by th● weight you laid upon it. And the more you press i● you shall make it but the stronger still to bear all you● will.  Bel. 
Why this excuse adds still unto your fault. If your mind was innocent, it seems you did it but by chance and had no mind to it when you did it. And I can le●● forgive this profanation of myself than an intended insolence, which passion doth some way excuse, when it doth avow.  Mor, 
O madam, you have found so refined a torture▪ as it reacheth to my soul, which I called innocent fo● having been so wholly and so purely fixed upon your hand as it is there, and therefore innocent: that which is once there and is removed, I did think worthy of such a punishment as even your displeasure.  Bel. 
Why your insolence enlargeth itself still morament; you would have me displeased because it was no greater, that it lasted not longer, and would put your soul into my hands, but by the delivery of your body.  Mor. 
You can put me to no greater torment than this willing misunderstanding me, you would make me criminal, for being but mortal, because my soul is carried but by my flesh and blood, nothing but this despair could make me so insolent as to wish my body and my soul might once meet again where the one remains, though after that they parted with mortality.  Bellesa. 
Now I understand truly your crime, you shall not have so much favour as my delivery of the sentence. G●mella shall delivered you; till then, see me no more.  Mor. 
The sentence cannot be so cruel, but the having it will be a mitigation, for this suspension is the execution.  Enter Genorio sadly. Mor. 
What sadness is this Genorio that diverts even mine, as to take notice of it?  Gen. 
The joys I own you morament, may justify this sorrow: Is not this a strange curse?  Mor. 
So strange a one, I understand it not.  Gen. 
Had I not had already the joy of all your trust, it could not so afflict me, the not being trusted now with such a joy of yours, as all the society believes, and I have no other reason to doubt but your not having told it me.  Morament. 
My curse is so malignant, it infects thee for being my friend; and it is much now Genorio for me to say, that I have any sense left for thy unjust affliction. I had no ease left but the belief that I had made thee happy, and thy mistake is never come to rob me even of that.  Gen. 
It would be as hard for me morament, to find a cause for the least of your benefits, as 'tis to repeat them all; they began so much before my memory, as I must trust report for that, and what I know may warrant my belief of that you saved my life, when my Infant-innocence was guilt to you, as it was cursed to be born your enemy. The education you gave was such as might make my life worthy your owning, since after having given me so much wealth, and honour, as an accession unto that could expect no more sense of it. Then as if you did study my blessing in making you some return, you have given me the disposing of your life, and the treasure of your trust, such a gift as but by keeping it, I might make you a retribution, but you take it away without a daily addition to it. I have repeated this to you, which is too much for you to remember, that you may see I am thus far towards the deserving this, as the accounting all this is a curse, if the only means of gratitude which I have left, the joying in your joys, be but suspended from me.  Mor. 
Thou art too partial to me Genorio, to believe me in my misery, which if I have not let thee know, it has been for fear thy misbielefe should add to it: but now I find even that misfortune which I only thought I could avoid, thy distrust, is fallen on me.  Genorio. 
I shall easily morament believe you as miserable as you would have me, if you were capable of any, loved by BELLESA as they say you are.  Morament. 
Though I had tenderness enough Genorio to be sensible of thy distrust, as thy affliction; I have no sense left for this thy scorn, because 'tis mine.  Gen. 
Pardon my duty, Sir, that did believe there could not have been guessed a blessing for you greater than your merit. That did make it more probable to me.  Mor. 
Believe me Genorio I am as far from that, as if I wished it, I could fear.  Gen. 
Let it not seem insolence then in me, in this your affliction, to profess myself happy. For I think myself so only, as I hope to transferr it upon you. If Sir it be the memory of Fidamira that darkens all things else unto you, I do believe the miracle of my gratitude shall draw light out of that darkness for you. For it can seem no less to you that Fidamira should be given away; but the wonder of my obligation will lessen much this miracle they make I am that subject Sir you would not know for fear of envying, in whose hands Fidamira hath deposited her faith. And now you shall know to be envied by him, and all the rest of the world whose merits heaven will not honour with a less miracle than a lover's resignation of his Mistress. And this Sir I now beg of you the acceptation of a blessing, and that you may have her so purely herself without the abatement of inconstancy, I will give her reason for't, and only for that wait on you to her once to bring myself so criminal unto her, as her loving me shall be one, which then she can no longer do, as she can ne'er do ill. I do not owe you less than breach of faith, but this apparency of guilt is less.  
Therefore Sir, resolve at this next election which is within two days to declare yourself and so begin with this blessing of yourself, the comforting your father.  
I will wait on you till I may deliver Fidamira to you, and then return hither. And the only favour I will ask, shall be the leave to live here, with your belief of such a pleasedness in my condition, you may think you have given more in acceptation than you have received.  Mora. 
It is so hard Genorio to believe that Fidamira can be given away, as it had need of such a faith as mine in thee to credit it, but to assure thee that I believe that thou not only canst, but wouldst do so strange a thing for me, I will not venture to accept it. Glory in this Genorio, that from the depth of this dejection, thou hast had the power to raise me up to joy that thou shalt have Fidamira as fully with my wishes as thy own.  Gen. 
What a strange curse were this, If I believed this offer were your wish; But it is true Sir, it is not fit you should wish any thing that can be offered you. And I must needs owe my good fortune less sense then ere I did, since even the first of it affords me no means of retribution unto you.  Enter Gemella. Gem. 
I have a message to deliver you morament, from Bellesa.  Mor. 
'tis welcome Gemella, what so ere it be.  Gem. 
She hath commanded me to tell you she hath thought much of your crime. And the more she thinks of it, she finds it such that there is nothing ill enough to punish it. Which being such a crime as nothing, committed but once, can be punishment enough for't, she hath ordained you not only to wish it, but hope it too, and to see her as often as you will that upon the rack of hope she may daily torture you by the intention or remission of it, as she shall please. This only she thinks an expiation proportioned to your fault; and hath sent me with this sentence to you, which I hope I have delivered so, you understand it.  Mor. 
I know not whether I do or no, methinks it is somewhat above my orb, humble despair. Which makes it harder for me to conceive, then if 'twere there. But I will instantly go Gemella, and study it before her, in submission to my sentence.  Genorio 
I must leave you now. Exit morament  Gen. 
How justly am I afflicted by my own offence, inconstancy? The Prince's change is fallen out to punish mine And he is so happy that even his change doth prove a service unto Fidamira, as it revenges her on me. I will not add so much unto my guilt, as a detraction from her, in the belief that he could prefer any thing before my offer, but a well grounded hope of Bellesa's Love.  
None but I could do so new a thing, as to prefer despair. How well doth my curse suit with my sin? My address to Gemella for conveyance of my passion to Bellesa, that had already undertaken Moraments? My observation hath assured it me, without the help of my suspicion. And I am punished as it were by fate with an exclusion from the Prince's trust, before he can know a reason for't. O how deceitful and ensnaring joys, are Prince's highest trusts? They do subject us more than even our nature or their power can. They raise us so above the sense of all their other benefits, as we are only fixed on that which they may so easily take away, as even cessation doth remove it. And ●o we do expose, not only all the joys we have acquired, but even the imbred ease of our own souls. Which might have rested in their own level, but cannot in a declination from that height. So subjects hazard more than Princes give! Yet methinks love is so much above reason now, as it proves the Princes trust a convenience, not a loss, as it may warrant my profession of my passion to Bellesa, which I will do in so resolved a boldness as it shall be significant humility, as it must imply the extreme of all despair.  Exit Genorio. Enter Martiro Martiro. 
There's nothing speaks so truly of Bellesa as my opinion of her. I will believe my admiration before my senses. I am so far from crediting what I hear of her, as I do not believe herself. Her modesty will not admit the knowing of herself so well as I do. For though my thoughts in their highest ecstasy pitch not at the top of all her virtues, yet they get up so high, as to assure how low and near the earth her soul can fall. Though I cannot imagine all the good that she can do, yet I can satisfy myself how near she can come to doing ill, to which she can never approach so near as loving; Though that be far from ill, yet as it is but ordinary, it may be counted too much ill for her. She's somewhat of herself; I know not what to call her, so unlike to all things sublunary, that we may better think the humility she bears chose rather to be a woman, than that heaven meant her one; unless it set her in this way, that passing through it she might rise unto a higher glory, then if she had been first created an angel. I do not wonder at the received opinion of her loving. I would not have the knowing of her be common as to undeceave every body; and for those that hope it, they have made themselves a curse. I cannot pity enough, as it is a madness they will never believe it to be one. Morament is a person worthy the knowing Bellesa, Gemella's womanish officiousness will be punished in the frustration of it. The election is now within two days, we shall see who remains here. Accordingly I will apply my pity of morament to his conversion in the belief of the divine Bellesa.  Exit Martiro Enter Fidamira Fida. 
I have left the Queen and morament together: I believe between them two, the execution will be gentler than the sentence. I am come myself to such a perfect knowledge of all men, as I am too far from envying even Bellesa, as I am scrupulous of my contribution towards her loving one. The best of all the sex which I will allow the Prince to be, can secure me no farther of his faith, than that, if it be possible that there can be one in all the world prove constant, it is he.  
I do now so much neglect all men, as I have no sense so low, as to be moved with any of their injuries. I do forgive Agenor so, as all the memory I have now left, is of my own fault, that it was ever in the power of a man so to offend me. I confess I could wish his repentance, only to expiate that fault of mine, by showing how much I repent of it, by being now incapable of such an exposure of myself again. I am not so vain as to believe my looks can persuade him to this repentance, therefore I have thought a way how they may fright him to it, and for that I must put on this colour's contrary, and like a ghost appear unto him. His guilt will join with me in the persuasion of it. Thus I will watch him the next evening, as he goes to the Temple. His fears would now be welcomer than his love; but he may chance be so vain, as to believe that even dead I cannot choose but follow him: for vanity even feeds on dreams and apparitions, and loving Bellesa: he had need sustain his love with such like airy nourishments. I am resolved I will once more change my disguise: I am sure it cannot succeed worse with me then this hath done.  
My Fate inverting these two colours right  
Puts innocence in black, and guilt in white.  Exit Gemella. Enter Bellesa morament. B●ll●sa. 
This is presumption morament, not humility, to be pleased with so severe a sentence: But are you not so humble as to take more of the sentence on you, than I sent you, Hope?  Morament. 
I take no more Madam, then serves to keep my senses warm, lest they should fall into so dead a despair, as I should disappoint your cruelty by an unsensibleness.  Bel. 
Your hope and your wish morament, are then far distant yet from one another.  Morament. 
As far Madam as my wish and my desert. I am as near deserving you, as hoping what I wish.  Bellesa. 
You may then hope a little more morament: for I would not have a man so near deserving me, as I might give him leave to hope, that would lessen the grace I did confer, to have merit the pretender to it.  Morament. 
You may safely trust my hope Madam; hope seems so dull and slow a thing to me, I can scarce think it is a function of the soul. I must have it by infusion, not inherency. If you fear Madam the approach of merit, you must lessen your rigours, for in your cruelties an humble soul may challenge more merit than it hath reward, but the least of all your favours sets all desert at such a distance, as, by the same degrees they advance, merit goes back, and so the distance is still enlarged. Therefore Madam, you cannot remove yourself so much from men's deserving you, as by a sense of their humility.  Bellesa. 
I do believe morament that the least kindness of a worthy woman, doth set all man's merit out of distance: but I have heard that as you say their desert goes so far back then, as it goes quite out of sight, and vanity comes on without it.  Morament. 
If this vanity were inherent in the nature of us all, you own yourself no less than the belief that the virtue of your love might even correct our nature, your love is so divine a thing, as not to be subject to the defects of it.  Bel. 
Sure Morament., it were ill done to give such a meritorious humility as yours, such a temptation to be perverted as a favour.  Morament. 
It were vanity Madam to tell you, how much a favour of yours would make me humbler than I am, there could be no such ill in any body, that your wishing but well to, would not amend: much less any virtue that it would not improve. And methinks you now should do me a favour, as it is the strangest thing in all the world, the making me happy.  Bel. 
You have already forgot your sentence, the giving of you hope to punish you by the frustration of it, and so now I give you this.  Mor. 
I need not then ask you forgiveness for it, since it punisheth itself, how strangely am I destined to your subjection, when even my forgetfulness proves a contribution to your will.  Bellesa. 
Me thinks morament, since you are so subject to forget your sentence of favour done, you would give me a great advantage over you, for you would quickly forget why I did it, and entertain such hopes as would enlarge my power of punishing you.  Morament to himself. 
[It were more injury unto her to think this treachery, than insolence to believe it pity]. I will instruct you Madam in this design of making my punishment notorious. Let me suffer on the same place where I committed my offence. If hope punisheth itself proportionably as it offends, this will be a well fitted torment for me.  Bel. 
A Prince's eye by a casual look suspends the execution, but an admittance to their hand is an abolition of the crime.  Morament. 
That holds not with me Madam, for your sight was appointed for my execution; and so, the rule inverted, your hand must be the higher punishment.  Bel. 
Yours morament, is so new a case to me, I know not what to say to it, and I had need apply my power while I am a Queen; it may be that only makes the defeature of your hopes a pain to you.  Morament kisses her hand. Morament. 
Soon only this might prove a cure to me, if I could profane it with the thought of being a Queen: there are a thousand qualities in this hand, the least of them above all mortality can name. I consider so little your quality of Queen, as I dare say that's the least disproportion betwixt us. Had you all those titles united into one, which all the world contests but for the parting of, even this were a declination brought you to a name, which, as yourself are unexpressible can I believe that you could think so low, as to be pleased even with the name of Queen, it may be hope might not prove a punishnishment.  Bellesa. 
Why morament? had I that desire, could you satisfy it?  Morament. 
Easier Madam then deserve to be beloved by you. Even when I had done it the conquest of a kingdom would be easy, you being but proposed to it for Queen.  Bellesa. 
I could afflict you then morament, by telling you I had a mind to be a Queen; but I will not, because I have forgiven you. Therefore now morament after this pardon, hope no more.  Exit Bellesa. Morament. 
Did not the virtue of her hand hold me up I should fall back into a fearful doubt. Sure this is but to show that her will masters love itself. I am confident she is moved so much with my sufferings that the profession of myself may endear my humility. The election is to morrow, and it shall be in her choice, whether she will continue Queen or no.  Exit morament. Enter Pantamora. Pantamora. 
The reason why morament sees not Bellesas love that's fixed upon him, must needs be that he looks too high for't. He thinks it must fall down a● from heaven upon him. If he had but looked in a natural and easy level towards her, he must needs have found her very near him. Sure his eyes were thus stretched up into the air, when I shown him my love so fair before him, and he saw it not, I will not think he did look from it of purpose. But I can envy Bellesa in nothing, that is so near such a declination, as the descending from a throne: the expectation of which hath raised me now above all other thoughts. Bellesa sure will leave the paradise with morament; the advantage is so sure among the rest, as it lessens the glory of it.  Exit Pantamora: Enter Melidoro, Camena. Mel. 
What think you Camena? how much doth Bellesa love?  Camena. 
What think you MELIDORO? I know how much.  Mel. 
Have you gotten the model of it? I would not at all adventures build my hope by such a one, therefore pray do not proportion yours to it.  Cam. 
They that have taken the true dimensions of Love and Honour, may model hers by that. She is so exactly what she should be; as they that know that, may know directly what she is.  Mel. 
What, do you think than she answers Moromente's Love?  Camena. 
If women at first be but so civil as an echo, 'tis enough if she but show that she did hear.  Melidoro. 
I believe that Morament's complaints have not been so unhappy, as never to end with love, and so I think by this time he hath had an answer echoed to him.  Camena. 
Women may answer Love so, and disavow it too, as repetition of an others oath is not accounted swearing. The most I think BELLESA hath done yet, hath but obliged morament and not engaged herself.  Mel. 
Do you think Bellesa was so careless, as not to provide, against her falling from her throne, the lighting in Morament's arms.  Camena. 
'Tis but a year since they first knew one another, and that is scarce time enough for a woman to make all her objections against loving of a man, much less to be so satisfied, as to resolve to give herself away. Will you be content to have my promise Melidoro to your wish, on those conditions if Bellesa yields to morament?  Mel. 
If I must still depend upon the uncertainty of a condition, I do not dislike this you have proposed. And sure Camena, this belief of mine doth not imply less value of Bellesa, than those scruples you allow her.  Camena. 
I love freedom so well, I would not venture an engagement but upon terms I thought even improbable. But when your wishes hang upon my will, you ought not to think them desperate. Look where Genorio comes! Methinks he looks as if he would Enter Genorio. outact all that hath been writ of sorrow; this sight methinks Melidoro should make no hope seem little.  Melidoro. 
Pray Camena let's leave him, he looks as if he would taint the air, and make misfortune infectious.  Exeunt Melidoro, Camena. Gen. 
How well hath fortune showed, I am her own, in having thus employed myself to betray that strength of happiness which was impregnable, and must have been delivered thus by me, since herself could not take it? Sure fortune grew Jealous, lest the world should think she was in love with me, and there's nothing so detracting from fortunes reputation, as the opinion that she can fasten herself to any one. She is the whole world's Mistress, and her lose variations entertain all her servants in variety of hopes, and so draws on those general addresses which busy and divert her so. Methinks she might have counted me her child, and so have justified unto herself her tenderness of me. For when my Infant-bloud seemed destined to the thirst of multitudes; even there she took me in her arms, and set me at the breasts of Princes to be nursed; and not content with that, endeared me so unto them, as if I had sucked their hearts into me, and they lived by me. This hath been confirmed unto me by such a disposition of their powers, as if they had no power but this of giving me so much: and because all this might be thought subject still to fortune, she provided me a blessing above her power of resuming Fidamira's Love. And sure 'tis that which hath incensed my mother Fortune thus against me, that repulse that she received in her attempting Fidamira: for never was fortune more affronted, than in her refusal of the Prince. It must be so that she grew jealous of my being set above her reach, and finding herself so weak, hath got Love to join with her to take me by myself, that I might give away what could not be resumed. And now I am so completely miserable, I cannot call my affliction misfortune. I have this circumstance to perfect it, the attribution of it wholly to myself. I have told Bellesa my passion so directly, she seems not to understand it. Sure it had so wild a boldness, it looked liker madness then Love. It is but just, that I that have so much neglected truth, should be discredited by it. Wither but to myself should I repair for satisfaction, since I am my own offender? Therefore from thence I derive a happiness that shall defy even fortune, the adoration of the not epitheted Bellesa; it shall be so little subject to chance or change, it shall make despair a reason for it, to be sure to defy both those. Nay I will not exact less of myself then the doing what was never done before, the allowing Bellesa to love another, and even proportion my joy in this, to what she shall receive in that. Thus I am so resolved, as I could even already tell it Fidamira.  Fidamira like a Ghost▪ Gen. 
Though fortune hath taken me at this disadvantage, before my resolution had time to fall from my mouth into my heart: Yet thus half armed I will defend myself, though Beauty and Death, even those great enemies, are reconciled to join against me; Nay I will give thee yet more odds, I will suppose thee an angel and so conclude thou knowest my thoughts, and justify them even against any reason thou canst bring: By naming but Bellesa, thou must needs know her, if angels know one another. She is here your delegate on earth. Tell me, blessed spirit, wert thou not sent down to visit her? To fright me thou canst not come in such a shape, and less to change me, that am fixed above the power of miracles. When you have seen Bellesa, you will think constancy to any but herself so ill a miracle, as you will not approve it. How blessed am I in this descent of yours? For if you came but to reproach me, I shall have this merit to Bellesa the having brought an angel down to see her, which may describe her, where she only can be praised enough, in heaven; Go then, fair Spirit, and when you have but looked on her, the impatience of the news you carry will quicken your ascent again, to entertain the blessed choir with a relation may endanger your being envied there. For me, I doubt not but you will approve so of my adoration here, as in pity of my want of spirit and soul enough you will inspire some such transcendency, as may lessen the disproportion is between the admiration of all mortals and the divine Bellesa.  Ghost. 
I am so unhappy, I can think myself less so, for the improbability of thy ever being so, which to remove from thee, I am content to impart to thee. All the Angelicallnesse I will own is the prevision of thy misfortune, to which thy belief may prescribe some remedy. I know Bellesa so much better than thou, as I can tell even what she shall be.  
She a woman unto one shall be,  
But still an angel unto thee.  
And to thy shame too, Fidamira lives:  
And is an angel but as she forgives.  Gen. 
Sure, the heavens have conspired this miracle of my love. And by an angel have been pleased thus to assure me of the conjuncture that must make it so, Bellesa loving morament. And what a joy hath heaven sent me to begin with? The making me an angel unto morament by the delivery of these news which is such as even the relation of it overpayes all his benefits. I will instantly seek him, with this obligation must remain to me. For Fidamira, I can wish nothing in her life, but her being here for an exaltation of the wonder of my love unto Bellesa.  Exit Genorio. The King at the other door following Fidamira, she flying from him. Fida. 
In what distress am I? as I was going out of the temple the King meets me thus. Sure he hath believed me dead, and searched out my ghost. For thus he follows me rather joyed, then frighted. And since this habit cannot deliver me from him, my tongue must needs deliver me to him.  King. 
Stay Fidamira what so ere thou art, angel or Ghost. I do not miscall thee by that name. O do not soul that pure reverence I bear thee with such a stain as violence. 'tis thou that offerest the first violence by flying. And if I shall dare to touch thee, 'tis in my defence, to stay thee here. Tell me if thou be●st a ghost, and I can quickly think my flesh away, and die instantly by thinking thou art dead, and so wait on thee as a ghost. But in thy looks I find no other sign that thou hast ever died, but that in Paradise thou dost reside. Thou canst not be a ghost and thus outlook all angels. Tell me fair, fair spirit, what is become of Fidamiras spirit. Thou knowest I am to account for it. Tell me or I must follow thee till thou dost vanish. And then, as soon as I can open this Cage that holds my spirit, let it fly after thee.  Fida. 
[I must reveal myself and trust him, or his wilfulness in following me must needs discover me. Besides, to morrow is the day that shall unriddle all our stories. I shall not advance his knowledge of me much, and so prevent his finding of the Prince unopportunely. I will resolve it]. Heaven hath been so careful of your comfort Sir, as it hath made me myself again, I believe only for that, and hath employed another's guilt to advance this ease unto your innocence  King. 
Your body Fidamira is but lent you then again, for apparition unto me, not life to you. And it was kindly done to call my knowledge of it an ease, since it will surely deliver my spirit from the cords and ligaments that hold it yet.  Fida. 
You are mistaken Sir, I am not dead, only transfigured into this colour's contrary. Which I have put on but as a case to keep it from sullying.  King. 
If thou livest Fidamira speak on. For I will believe thee so, as well as if thou wert an angel.  Fida. 
Will you forgive me Sir, if I call that, which it may be you meant an honour, your resuming of your grant of privacy, an intermission of my peace. From whence I did derive such fear, as the protection of a King did most expose me to, the apprehension of such an eminence intended me, as I could only come near the deserving, by the avoiding: And yet so possess myself of a more affected happiness, your estimation of my virtue; which I tendered the preservation of the more, because yours must have suffered with it.  
For, the honours you had designed for me, were raised to such a height, as being above the capacity of the greatest part of the lookers on were likely to be misunderstood. Therefore to avoid the occasion of being but so much as an error in your unquestionable worth, I chose this as the less danger, the flying into some concealed retreat; and not trusting so much to my legs, I made my face run away to carry me securely. And in this disguise of a Moor I fled hither, where I made bold to use your name to be received. And here I found my flight and my disguise so much outdone by strangers, as I had no wonder left for my own condition. And these upon your promise of taking no knowledge of, till I shall advise you to it, I will impart unto you.  King. 
Ask no other caution Fidamira but thy belief that I cannot disobey thee. Shouldest thou tell me that my son were here, and you two in love with one another, I would ne'er take notice of it, till all your blessings did ask me mine for consummation of them. In which gift I would ask nothing but the breathing out my soul upon it. So willingly I would give it you.  Fidamira. 
Your own guess hath engaged you Sir. The Prince and Agenor are both here, admitted into the order by the names of morament and Genorio. The approbation Sir, which you have promised of his choice, if it had miscarried so as to have lightt on me, is a joy that overpays me this comfort I have brought you, as it assures me of your consent unto his wishes, which are so justifiable, and I believe want nothing else for their perfection. To morrow is a new election of a Queen, and that light will clear all that must yet remain obscure to you. And the d●y warns me to benight myself again. For no light ever interposed itself between this darkness since I put it on till now. And the reason of this Eclipse of my darkness (I may call it so) shall not longer then to morrow be clouded to you. Therefore give me now leave to return to Gemella, the name my darkness owns. And I doubt as little the justifying to you to morrow the fitness of all my requests, as I do of your observance of your word till then.  Exit Fidamira. King. 
Go Fidamira, and doubt not of my obedience though you leave me in a doubt, which is a pain equal to that of thy preserved life or hastened death. Which shall I trust to? Basilinos hand or Fidamiras word? My fears that find nature too steep to climb directly up against it, do thus by circular and turning motions seek to wind themselves up above it. As violent storms repulsed by senses that they meet, seem to fly back, and part themselves to go about; and so at last insinuate themselves through those fences, that they could not break: thus do my doubts of Basilino's and Fidamira's knowing one another, and loving here, work themselves into me by winding-circumstances, which are so weak as must go about, my reason cannot get over it. Thus doth all jealousy run on in crooked serpentations, and seems to embrace all reason that it meets, but 'tis but to encompass it, and leave as it were so as an island, as it cannot get out, mine must stay here all night, exposed to those cold blasts my fears can shake it with. To morrow Fidamira's promise will deliver me.  Exit King. Enter Bellesa. Bel. 
How surely do they think themselves away, that let Love close with their thoughts, intending they shall wrestle with it? for love in that instant that it is let in, falls under our wills, and like an inundation, all it finds portable it raiseth up, and carrieth forward on itself, and love finds our wills so leight and so ascensive then, as it doth but take them up with this humility, and carries them along with it, and by this subjection of itself, raiseth them higher than they could e'er have got without it. So that love, entered into our thoughts, as it useth no violence to them; So it is liable to none from them. This have I learned of my Tutor morament, and I am yet so strangely bashful, as my having my lesson so perfect makes me ashamed to repeat it. Gemella assures me I have had a Prince for my Tutor, I am glad of that: for though birth and quality be not the only foundation to build love upon, yet it is a fair roof to cover it. I own some satisfaction to morament for all his humble sufferings, and '●is enough my going now to love's Cabinet to consult, whether I shall yet tell him my sense of them or no. The bringing it so near a question is a reparation for more than man can suffer. I must resolve.  Exit Bellesa. Enter morament. Mor. 
I should be so scrupulous of being so much myself, as having power to resolve any thing without Bellesa's leave, had I not two such necessities, as Nature and Time to justify still my incapacity, by their impulsion of me to it. Nature's internal force would be too weak, I could forget I have a father, I am so Bellesas creature, had not time power over me, and that this light must see me a Prince, and her none. Her words by whose reflex we only can see thoughts, have sometimes been clear enough: yet they have been always so unsteady, as like glasses turned up and down, their reflex hath rather dizied my brain then assured my sight. Now I must resolve to beg of her to fix them, so as I may see what figure they have made for me. She is now gone towards Love's cabinet. I will follow her thither, expecting nothing from the place but privacy. She's love influence, and only can affect herself. And now to balance the boldness of this resolution with an equal humility, I will oblige myself not so much as even to wonder at the worst she shall resolve for me.  Exit morament. Enter Bellesa in a wood called Love's Cabinet. Bel. 
Hither where all things look so pleasingly, and so well pleased, as you must be all in love with one another; hither where the best of love's secr●●ie doth flourish so, as you know not one another's love, and yet live still, adding still to the delights of one an●ther, as't were by mere instinct, by being bu● together. Wither but unto you should I repair for company? To your so pure innocence as ill can ne'er come so near, as to be withstood. For in your vein runneth water instead of blood. My breath is yet so innocent it will not bl●st your tenderest purity. And I will trust you as to take counsel of you in the discovery of my thoughts of love you are the fit because you cannot speak. For you m●y answer me by instinct, as you seem to entertain one another, and not speak.  Ec. 
Speak.  Bel. 
Alas echo you are too generally free to be trusted You will answer any body, and that they please. Therefore the gods when they placed you here, to secure the secrecy of solitude restrained your voice to a present answer only to those that spoke unto you, and so disenabled you to tell any thing from one unto another, otherwise I would not trust even this privacy with this word Love.  Ec. 
Love.  Bel. 
Can I answer at that distance thou dost and not be seen, I would word that love. I think sure thou couldst not be so confident hadst thou not all these curtains drawn before thee, and didst not know, that they that seek thee after thou hast spoke can never find thee But let the spirit of this unsuspected place tell me, if it avow thee for its Speaker, and I will yield unto its Genius, and will resolve what methinks it would have me do.  Ec. 
Do.  Bell. 
Now you have answered so well for him, will you now answer for him to me? Dare you promise me his constancy?  Ec. 
Constancy.  Bel. 
If he prove so, our prayers shall intercede for thee unto the gods, that this thy service in our love▪ may expiate thy former fault. And that thou mayest be restored unto thy body, and thy voice doubled to thee, to have speech enough to tell the wonders of our loves, which no less than such a miracle can do. But if he now prove vain or e'er inconstant, I will come back hither, and with my curses blast the beauty of this place. I will be so revenged, I will not leave it so much as solitude. I will be always here, and with my loud complaints storm it with a troubled tumult. And for you, echo, I will with my reproaches force you to answer so much, as it shall hoarse that little voice is left you. Nay I will search all the earth's concavities, and fill them up, so to choke you quick, there shall be left you nothing to reside in but Moraments heart. That I will leave you, even for a greater punishment, than death, upon these terms if you will stand to your counsel, I am content.  Ec. 
Content.  Enter morament. Mor. 
Hearing Madam you were gone this way. I made haste after you, lest you might light by chance into this place. Do you know where you are Madam?  Bel. 
'Tis you morament that are you know not where; if you had known where you were, you would not have hastened to divert me from this place: this is love's cabinet, is it not?  Morament. 
It was Madam before you came hither, but all that was Loves, is yours where you are.  Bel. 
Do you think, Love loseth any thing in what I take from it?  Mor. 
Yes Madam it loseth more by what you keep from it, than it gives or receives from all the world besides, this place is believed to have a tacit influence, and works all hearts into a tenderness that it doth receive, as if the air contracted with the heart it should take Love, and breath together. This I tell you Madam, only that you may glory in mastering virtue, that seems to have power over nature.  Bel. 
My heart morament is harder to be known than it is when it is known. Do not you think it can allow Love as much virtue as any other?  M●●. 
Yes Madam, as I believe all virtue improves in its ●●ssa●ion more than in its exercise meeting with yours, as it is a greater virtue to yield to that then trust unto its own: So your heart may allow love more virtue than any other by a resignation of its power to your neglect.  Bel. 
This opinion morament, makes me apprehend so little your guessing why I came hither, as I may now in return of a request you made me once, to guess at your love, desire you to do so at the reason of my coming hither.  Mor. 
It may be Madam, that Love himself in love with you hath giv●n you this curiosity of rifling his Cabinet to try who he holds intelligence with. So, to discover Love's secrets, you came hither.  B●l. 
Ha●h this echo run under ground, and carried him my voice? 'Tis true Moramante, I am come to discover Love's secrets but more to trust, then to suspect: and I have found here so uninterested a Counsellor, as he asks nothing but words to gratify him; and he hath answered me so fitly, as if he had studied my cause before. If you have any suit morament speak to him, he is in his closet here amongst the trees; he is old and a little deaf, you must speak aloud, and it is likely he will answer you.  Mor. 
This is clear enough. I understand it. You know I have a suit Madam. And I will try if you have entertained him against me. Tell me thou faithful speaker, doth Bellesa love.  Ec. 
Love.  Mor. 
It is too much a miracle to be believed from any voice but yours.  Bel. 
Why Moramete, would you have me so strange a creature as to make an echo speak false?  Mor. 
You were but dallying with love, and he had not strength enough to get above your other words, and so the air sent echo back with it along to you. Had love any power over you, it would not lose so much of its sweetness, as the being deluded by any voice but yours.  Bel. 
It is my voice morament, and I have let it lose from me, that it might not have so much as modesty to hold it back. Believe it. For if you put me to take it in again, I have virgin cold that would not let it speak so clear.  Morament knelt. Mor. 
I will believe it so as I will worship it. All my soul's faculties shall be converted into this one belief, and give me leave to beg for this kind voice, that for my sake is so unhappy as to go out of you, that you would take it in again, and let me h●are it, in that temple where it should be enshrined, your mouth, though it speak lower. My belief hath ears to save you the pains of straining it too high.  Bel. 
Rise morament, unless you wish an answer from a Queen, and not Bellesa. I have had long a sense well fitted to your sufferings, and I have believed so well of you as I did not fear the seemingness of my indifferency would divert you from a meritorious persistency. And I have been so just to you, as you have lost nothing by my differing your admittance to the knowledge of my thoughts For they have been studying you all this while, wi●h this advantage to, of your not knowing it. So they have informed themselves of your nature streghtly in itself, without the ply it takes, bend by design. And I have so satisfied myself, as I believe my time well spent.  Mor. 
You might well tell me Madam I was I knew not where, if I have been in your blessed thoughts; and thus you only could have done so new a thing as to recall time, and in an instant bless all that was past, as well as what's to come. I have now no way of humility left but, valuation of myself ascribing so the more to the virtue of your thoughts, which have made me what they have been, so modest as to say they have found me. For you have such a singularity, as you cannot think on any thing unworthy of you. Therefore give me leave to ask you, what you have thought of my love to you? For this was the only thing in me worthy of your thoughts, before you thought of me, I m●st therefore believe you have thought most of that.  Bel. 
For the first thought, I did allow your love morament, it was so civil it brought me many in return of it. And by this exchange stored me with thoughts which wereso clear, as they seemed glasses for virtue to dress herself by, ●ot shadows to draw over her. Therefore I have continued the entertainment of your love.  Mor. 
Judge madam how absolutely you are mistress of love. It hath had intelligence with you. And given and received presents from you, without my knowledge. I will not call this treachery, for I will allow all that is mine, to be yours more. But hath not my love been so true to you Madam, as to propose to you its perfection in the admittance of my heart into yours to lie under it, that it may rest itself upon it?  Bellesa. 
It hath proposed that which I cannot answer yet, because it knows not who it speaks to.  
[The heavens conspire a parity in all] Oh Mor●m●n● himself. Bellesa give meleave to wish you any thing rather than an angel. For so only your promise may defeat itself. If you be mortal, you can have no scruple, but the making me happier than yourself by the disparity between what you give and can receive.  Bel. 
I can give nothing now morament but my promise to be shortly myself, and so it may be I shall be able to give you more than now: and Gemella though she hath not told me who you are, hath assured me you are not what you seem, and so an agreement now would be void on both sides. Therefore now take this watch with my promise, that before it measure three hours more, you shall know my story, and then I shall have a fuller power to give: for having promised nothing, the time now admits not the telling your story, if you would advance the knowledge of you. Therefore we must now part, I for preparation of the ceremony of the new election.  Mor. 
I will then confess Madam only as much as the time will give you leave to know, which is, that I am more than I seem even more in love with you then I can seem to be: but there will nothing now seem strange in all my story, but your qualification of me with more honour than nature can bestow. I accept this pledge of your promise, and shall thus by you try both experiences.  
If time in the despair doth seem to move  
Slower, or towards the promised joys of Love.  Exeunt Mor. and Bel. Enter Romero. Rom. 
Sure, Nature did make up our lines in wreathes; and the first instant motion is set against the screw; and so we move in a continual revolution to unwind ourselves, and by the same degrees that we unwreath our lives, we find a slackness, and an enervation in those parts that loosen first. Our legs are first unjointed. So by degrees this looseness riseth up and slackens. So the frame of man, as all the parts, unfastning at last, seem but to have a contiguousnesse, and no connexion to one another: for all their functions part, while they hang yet together, till the last turn devolved falls to the dissolution of them all. So that man is only brought by ruin unto rest, I am so near this last dissolving turn, as I will now lay myself down here on this soft ground, that I may fall in pieces with less pain▪ I have visible misery enough to assure me of pity, this head on which the sun itself did snow, and cold can only thaw.  
There's nothing fit for the virtue of this place then age, as nothing so unrelievable: but I have such unspeakable misfortunes, as makes my age a blessing, as it promiseth a speedy delivery from what youth could have no hope but death, the loss of three such Princes in my charge, as the safety of a kingdom dependeth successively on each of them, the ones blo●d poured out at his nations sacrifice. So innocent, as his infancy better ass●reth us now what he is; th●n it could have promised what he would have been the other a Princess, such an emission of nature, as it were above itself, as she promised nothing so low, as could be hoped before, and yet the miracle of her obscured all that he did promise. She was so acceptable to all, as she made the loss of her brother and sister a public joy, as it conveyed the kingdom unto her, this angel then vanished from amongst us out of my hands: or if she were a woman, now she's above an angel, for she might die obscurely, but could not live so. My enquiry, had she been upon the earth, must have met with the report of her; no nation b●t must have sent out proclamations of their glory in having of her. Should I go back now to the aged King that hath no soul left but an expectation, and so take his soul too away, and then live to see unfortunate Navarr lie like a headless trunk, subject to the first power that would seize it? Nay, I will lay my life down here, and by the application of all these sorrows to my soul try if I can ●right it out of this weak body which hath no strength to oppose the passage of it.  Enter Genorio. Gen. 
I have sought morament every where but in Love's Cabinet, and cannot find him. Sure Fortune is scrupulous of letting me have so much joy, as ●h'obliging him. Here is a stranger, the gods assist you Sir in all your wishes.  Romero. 
Pardon me Sir, if I do not so much as wish you well, least fortune, that hath undertaken the opposition of all my wishes, might be by them brought against you.  Gen. 
It seems than you were chased hither by Fortune not led by Curiosity.  Rom. 
I have been so inconsiderable to fortune as she hath not thought my personal afflictions worthy her intention; but hath run through me and wounded others, whose loss hath brought no less than the curse of a whole nation upon me.  Gen. 
Have you ever been in love?  Rom. 
Never Sir, I have not known so light a grief in all my life, you are happy whose youth knows no true pain; and therefore doth account the frights of love, which imagination brings, the height of all affliction.  Gen. 
Comfort yourself then, for you are not so unhappy as you might have been.  Rom. 
You may brag Sir, you have made me smile to think, to how little disquiet this place is subject: thereforepray Sir, be so charitable to tell me, whether this place doth certainly make all happy, that are admitted to it; if so I would avoid it. It is a curse, I have not the wishing myself happy by forgetfulness.  Gen. 
If there be any certain virtue in this place, I believe it is in the inversion of the conditions it receives. All the effects I have found of it yet, have been so. I thought myself when I came hither, as unlikly to become unhappy as you can now yourself to be relieved. And I have seen fewer fortune turned to the opposite extreme of what it was brought hither. And if you would not forget, stay not here. For I am such a witness of that effect, as if you knew my story, you would believe that virtue unresistable.  Romero starts up. Rom. 
How miserable am I? that even you, that pretended to be an oblivious Trophy, are my remembrancer, and of a misery greater than your age is capable of. Will you give me leave to look upon this jewel? Pray Sir, do you remember so much, as how long you have had this jewel?  Gen. 
I have had it longer than I can remember any thing; 'tis part of my story which is so strange a one as if you knew it, it would make you think yourself happy. I am so subject to forget, as I had almost forgot my haste, Which if you knew the occasion of, you would leave wondering at yourself.  Rom. 
This fond young man's in love. And is grown vain of his afflictions, because they are of his own making. He carries a greater misfortune of mine about him, which he knows ●ot of, than he takes upon him. That cross of diamonds the prince Pallantus had about him, when his infancy was smothered in that crowd of death Pamlona did sink under, taken by assault some twenty years ago by this king of Castille. That there could be so little providence in fate! as to preserve this, and cast him away. Some soldier in whose bloody hands this spoil remained, must have sold it to this young man. His years will not allow him the honour to have bought it with a drop of blood. I will go rest me, left my spirits faint under the weight of misery they must bring for their pretence of ease.  Exit Romero. Enter Bonorio. Bo. 
I have lost the King strangely at the entry of the Temple, he took another way, but he cannot be strayed far hence.  Enter the King. King. 
I have watched my fears all night, lest while my reason was a sleep, they might have got the advantage of a dream to fright me from my trust of Basilino. And methinks this morning's light shoots such a cheerful clearness into me, as my presaging thoughts do smile on one another. Well met Bonorio. Since I have lost you, I have found such a miracle, as the surprise of would have killed you with joy. This company must defer your knowledge of it. Let us stand by a while.  Enter Bellesa, Gemella. Bel. 
What do women say Gemella, for discovery of their loves?  Gem. 
As the humours are Madam, some say all they think, and yet think all they can too little. Others say no more than what just will serve a man to guess at what they think.  Bel. 
Sure that is best Gemella. For so women retain a power of rewarding modesty, and punishing presumption. Which is so easily done, as by saying nothing. But what say you Gemella of Genorio's passion, that is so bold as to fly to me for sanctuary? I had thought friendship had been the highest passion. Believing that Moraments griefs running through Genorio had left this sad tincture on him. Is there no friendship so bold Gemella as to admit a rival to the trust of emulous desires?  Gem. 
Passion, Madam, is so shy of all things, as it scatters our thoughts abroad upon all approaches can be made to it: And is so far from admitting any body, as it is afraid even of its own shadows doubt, and suspicion which it never shines but it will make. But I wonder most that Genorio in so desperate a passion, should seek a reason for your will, though it be to neglect him. Perfect humility bows into itself, and finds reason there to justify its adoration, by an incapacity of a fault in her it is devoted to.  Bel. 
And sure, Humility is encouraged so, as by finding this reason, it leaves neglect less reason than it had before: but what reason doth Genorio's wildness prey upon?  Gemella. 
My innocence; which his suspicion seizeth on, and disfigures with the imputation of malice: which I am so far from, as even his provocation can bring me no nearer it than joying in Moraments fortune.  Bel. 
Sure, he is in a desperate condition Bellesa, that is so fare from knowing the cause of his ill, as the ascription of it to thy malice. I wonder that the flaming virtue of thy soul, that lightens through these clouds, doth not dispel them quite, and leave your body a fair sky, where it may shine. Here is a stranger, you shall to day here my story, which if my person could spare all this while, it may well expect improvement in your estimation, by that addition to your knowledge.  Gem. 
If I could make you Madam as full return of all your favours, as I can do of your story, I should owe you nothing.  Bel. 
Are you he Sir, that demandeth audience for your pretence?  King. 
No Madam, it was my curiosity lead me hither; and I have been so well paid for following it, as I believe the virtue of this place must needs be miraculous for devotion, since it is so propitious to curiosity. The first instant I arrived, I was made happier than I dare tell.  Bel. 
I wish it may afford you that happiness to the telling of it.  King. 
The seeing you Madam, is a happiness above relation.  Gem. 
This is the Queen Sir she is now going to give audience to a new pretenderbe: you there, and bring your promise entire with you.  King. 
O Fidamira. I have already seen morament, and Genorio, and have looked upon them, keeping my promise unto thee, between them; and they have not discovered me.  Gem. 
The audience will be within this hour, and the election presently after. Then my promise shall make you a full return for this your patience.  King. 
This Queen is a strange 〈◊〉, why may not I be so completely happy, as to have 〈◊〉 Son in love with her? ●hey are all ●uspicious thoughts that fancy me to day I will let my belief anticipate pa●t of this joy, left all at once be too much for my senses to support, would not you b● content Bonorio to be 〈◊〉 find your daughter, that 〈◊〉 were that Moor you saw speak with me?  B●no. 
A father that loves a chil● as I do Fid●mira had rather mourn for her death, th●n see her mourn in such a life.  King. 
You speak as if you were in love with her. I will keep thy fondness no longer in pain. Th●● Moor is Fidamira, thus disguised Basilino and Agenor ar● both here too. I am bound to secrecy while that Fidamira shall release me, and so I engage you. Let's set forward to the audience, in the mean time I will tell you my strange discovery of Fidamira.  Bonorio. 
This is a joy Sir, becomes your delivery as the greatest blessing I can value, the seeing you so pleased.  
O why did nature suffer love to know  
O●ly this secret hid from all below?  
Why should not nature tell her stealth?  
Then suffer love to curse herself.  
What hope hath he to ease a hidden pain  
Where it is less to suffer, than complain?  Exeunt. Enter Martiro. Mar. 
Sure, even imagination hath a vertical point, from whence it must decline: mine hath touched that, and now it stops again nor doth it charge Bellesa with a declination, to say it follows her, but accuseth its self of a rapture, that carried her along with it. I have been guilty all this while of treason to her, of parting her body and her soul, which sure heaven united for no less a miracle, than the propagation of them on earth. My fancy had restrained her to the being one herself, her disposing of herself, will make more such as herself, and so exceed even my fancy. And now I find it was a suppression, not an exaltation of her, to believe there could be any thing impossible to her, which I confess I did believe her loving was. Morament, who was most concerned by my opinion, hath already begun to correct it by his scorn of my counsel, which I gave him as boldly, as if Bellesa had been no where but in my fancy. I will allot no less than all my life for recantation, and pay this blessed place all that for my conversion.  Exeunt Melidoro, Camena. Melidoro. 
What speculation are you in Martiro? Were you not thinking what stars were in love with one another? and how by their tacit influence they entertain themselves! You never think so low as the moon, because she hath been said to have been enjoyed.  Cam. 
They say Martiro there is a Sagittary above, that answers to our Cupid here, and that the stars which we see shoot, are shot by him to inflame which of them he wil● will aim at. Pray Martiro, do not the melancholy loving stars delight much in the music of the spheres?  Mar. 
No: I was thinking lower, how the globe of the earth might be made flat, and so the Antipodes laid level with us. Inmy mind I have seen as strange a thing as this come to pass.  Melidoro. 
There is hope Martiro, you may fall ●o think of possibilityes; this is somewhat towards it to meditate so low as earth.  Mar. 
I do begin already to think all things so possible on earth; as I think you two may be happy in enjoying one another.  Mel. 
This is an exposition of flatting of the Globe. We that were your Antipodes are now level with you.  Cam. 
Rest your thoughts then here, Martiro, on the Centre of the earth, and you will find more ease in that stability than you have done in the swift motion of the orbs above, where they have been till now.  Mar. 
I am but yet like one that is fallen high, whose sense at first doth but assure him he feels a foundation: so by degrees his senses begin to come again. I do begin to hear already, I may come to taft at last.  Mel. 
You will find Martiro, that fancy on the ground of sense may run division enough, and make much better music then in air. Here comes Genori●, we'll tell him the news.  Enter Genorio. Gen. 
Happy Martiro, I must acknowledge, you shown me first the way to this supreme beatitude in love above the orbs of wishing. And give me leave to brag, that I am risen a degree above you, to the joying in her loving another proportionably as it affects her.  Mar. 
My recantation must confess my opinion. And you Genorio have now brought me a reason to confirm the change of it, your having got a point above it: You have not left me so much as a singularity to glory in, I was never higher than the allowing her I loved impossibility. For all that you are many degrees further. And my new opinion assureth your happiness that all women must love. For whom soever your mistress' loves, your security keeps time with that.  Cam. 
Here is the expired Phoenix, and there the issue of his ashes. And there can be but one at once.  Mel 
Come Camena, let's leave them both together, there's no danger of Genorio's making a sect.  Cam. 
We will leave you together. If the stranger bring so good a pretence to misfortune to day as this your opinion Genorio he shall have my voice.  Gen. 
We will follow to the audience. If all happiness be but opinion, as some say it is, than mine is a High one. How, Martiro, comes this declination of your thoughts from that high belief can hardly reach, to this which sense can touch?  Mar. 
It may be Genorio, your thoughts and mine are a counterbalance. And the fall of mine hath raised yours.  Gen. 
Sure Martiro, you have reached the imp●ssibility you soared at. And having wrought yourself above it, have stooped with it, and come down 〈◊〉 of it.  Mar. 
No Genorio, but I have seen it fallen down by me, seized by another. And now I conclude there's nothing impossible in love. And this my discovery doth advance your joys, that are carried on with h●rs you love though an other be the bearer of them.  Gen. 
Why Martiro, Is not this an ingenious revenge on scorn, to reduce the woman to make you happy by the same degree● she can think herself so? For so is he that derives his joys from hers.  Mar. 
Do you know, Genorio, do you know, that they that love after the knowledge of the delivery ●f their wishes to another are inconstant in the act, for they I 〈◊〉 another? For in that instant she is no more herself. And he that will begin again, must love two at once. For of lovers none knows which is which.  Gen. 
I am so far destined to this singularity, as this your intended diversion is my direction, for my passion is fixed so, as he that shall enjoy my wishes is such a one as my reason may dispute with my passion, which I should love best. If you knew my story Ma●tiro, you would think heaven had blessed me with my love for a miraculous gratitude. I must speak with morament before the audience.  Mar. 
Go Genorio, we'll go several ways to Bellesa with my recantation. This is Bellesa he's in love with, & his friendship to morament is, that he frames the wonder to himself upon.  
This were to stoop to let my passion fall  
To less than what's impossible to all.  Exit Martiro. Enter morament and Gemella. Mor. 
All that I can say Gemella near a return, i●▪ that even in this my happiness my debt to thee finds sense enough to be a pain by the difficulty of an acquittance. But if ever Bellesa and I join, than nothing can be difficult, even a compensation for thy merits will be easy.  Gem. 
I am so far from seeking a recompense, as I dare brag you own me more than I do know: the concealment of which, I will only call merit. And I will leave thus much more the helping you to ease yourself of what you will owe me, by ask you somewhat which will seem easy to you, though it must take up all your life the giving it.  Mor. 
There can be nothing so hard to me as a cessation in my gratitude to you: therefore the time it doth require will not only welcome, but satisfy the act. Lose no time Gemella, that I may begin.  Gemella. 
To be constant all your life unto Bellesa.  Mor. 
Thou hast asked the only thing which I can do, but cannot do for you: this is a pretention even above thy merit to wish to have Bellesa thought upon, one instant, for thy sake. I should forget Bellesa in that promise to you. This I will assure Gemella, for her sake to be so constant unto you, as you shall be her shadow in my thoughts.  Gemella. 
Did I not trust more to Bellesa's virtue of making a miracle for her, then to your being made one of yourself, I should not have asked you so impossible a thing as constancy.  Mor. 
Why, do you think constancy in a man a miracle?  Gemella. 
Such a one, as it is in no man's power to be assured of for constancy. Morament is to be judged of, as other miracles, after death; and so may be allowed deification.  Morament. 
I should choose Gemella, that time for the judgement of mine: for every instant of my life shall add more to my love, than all the rest of the world doth love in all; and my last instant's breath shall only sum it up.  Gem. 
Make not so unlimited engagements morament, 'tis ominous, 'tis a defy to fortune and time, that both subsist by change, to resolve so bold a constancy.  Enter Genorio. Gem. 
Here comes Genorio, we will be judged by him, whether large professions be not temptations unto fortune to glory in the frustration of them.  Gen. 
I do believe sometimes that destiny is provoked by our undertake to be so much ourselves, and useth such violence as justifies our honours, not by a surrender, but by a defeature of our faith.  Gem. 
Sure Genorio thus to accuse sat of such a depravation is to provoke it more, than to conclude it will not be offended with a virtuous confidence.  Genorio. 
I believe too there may be such a subject for a miraculous passion, as inconstancy may be the greater miracle.  Gem. 
Pray Genorio, do you think a Salamander can be sensible of the change of flames? passions may be in some so natural, as they cannot distinguish their own alterations.  Gen. 
If this simile hold for a reproach, it reacheth to both sexes. Will you be pleased Gemella to let me change this discourse for some privacy with morament?  Gem. 
You, I believe, have not the same business with him as I had to recommend constancy.  Gen. 
The impatience I have sought you with, morament, all this morning will be proved to you by the occasion of my seeking you.  Mor. 
No impatience can be welcomer to me Genorio, than this of showing me this clear cheerfulness risen in thy looks, that have morning in them now again; they have been so long be-nighted.  Gen. 
'Tis all reflexed from you morament, to whom such beams shine as must needs by repercussion clear one so near to you as I am. It is Bellesa's love to you that sends these sparkling joys to me from that great flame of glorious happiness that doth blaze on you.  Mor. 
Thou hast matched two impossibilityes so well Genorio, as I knew not which to believe least, Bellesa's loving me, or thy knowing it.  Gen. 
You do well to wonder at it, morament: for heaven thought it news worthy of an angels sending to the earth to be the bearer of't: and the gods knowing my gratitude to you, could ask no less than a miracle for an expression of it; and chose me first to impart it to you, left you might have been indebted too much to any body but one whose life was yours, by the delivery of such a blessing. An Angel that took 〈…〉 assure me of her speaking true, appeared to me l●●t night in the Temple, and told it me.  Mora. 
The gods know, Genorio, that Bell●s●● loving was a blessing too pure 〈◊〉 mortality, ●n therefore did alloy it with ●idamira's death.  Gen. 
Nay Mo●amente, I have the same authority for F●damira's life, as for B●llesa'● love: the angel told me both at once.  Mor. 
Then Genorio the blessing that thou bring●st is so divine, it leaves me no● a wish 〈◊〉 ●ouch't too with an equal reflex of those joys ●hin● on thee in Fidamira's love. The wonder of thy gratitude to me in preferring me before thyself did require no less than such a miracle for thy reward.  Gen. 
Believe me morament, my heart is so set upon your joys, as I have scarce any sense left for Fidamira's love.  Mor. 
Thou dost affect out-meriting thyself. Here comes the Queen, Genorio.  Enter Bellesa, Gemella. Bellesa. 
This freedom is a double obligation as it gives me some means of return. Till when, it shall not be perceived that I am trusted with it. Doth it not grow late?  Gem. 
Look on your watch Madam I believe the hour of the audience draws near.  Bel. 
It is within half an hour of the time. How goes your watch morament?  Moramante. 
Will you be pleased to tell yourself Madam.  Bel. 
As just with mine as if the same wheels moved them both. Have you seen the Sun to day.  Mor. 
I have been in heaven this morning Madam, and set it there, and 'tis as great a proof to me of the truth of it, the keeping time with yours.  Gem. 
Morament is so happy, he believes he governs time.  Bel. 
Sure the pretender is impatient of his audience which I have promised him, and the hour I have prefixed draws near.  Mor. 
Sure, you yourself Madam should be impatient in the interim between your promise and performance, for that is the only time you can owe any thing. We will wait on you now to hasten your discharge.  ●ellesa. 
We will go, morament. I should be glad to see Genorio's looks tuned to bear a part in this general harmony.  Gen. 
Mine Madam are the discords which must be in this composition.  Exeunt. Enter Pantamora. Pan. 
The Queen is gone before to the audience: her inclination now to morament is so declared, as even his looks avow it. The election is to be presently after the audience, in which I can think on nothing to fear, unless confidence be ominous.  Exit Pantamora. Bel. 
Let the pretender be called in.  Enter Romero. Rom. 
Pardon this amazement Madam! All my Soul's faculties are drawn into my eyes to decide a doubt. In which if I durst so soon believe my eyes, they had already looked away my pretence, but they are too partial to me to believe so soon. Therefore give me leave Madam to bring them nearer the object they are now disputing on, that they may ask some Questions of my memory, so to decide this doubt. It must be she, nature could not make two such! Blessed Saphira, I conjure you by the remove of what only can be objected against your innocence. The affliction of your father and the hazard of a nation to answer to this name, and in a word to speak me happier ●hen even the youngest here can live to. You know who asketh this pity of you now. One whose misery is a reproach to you. Therefore answer to this name Saphira, and with one word over-pay him to whom you own the first you ever had.  Gen. 
The virtue of this place reacheth not to cure distraction. You would have Bellesa revive the dead. He may be dismissed, Madam.  Bel. 
Stay Genorio, sure I own him more pity that would revive me, than one would antedate my death. Worthy Romero I will answer to that name, and in this instant make thee so happy as to indebt all the Society to thee for the knowledge of me. And to enlarge this present of myself unto thee, I will bring a witness thou wilt willingly believe, thy son, whose flight with me if it do need forgiveness cannot be denied now.  Mar. 
I will not weaken so much the Queens desire as to add my prayers to it. She that hath blessed you so, cannot be denied yours for me.  Mor. 
What say you to this Genorio▪  Gen. 
Since my fault is an exaltation of your happiness, that I will ask pardon for it.  Romero. 
Pardon me Madam, if I refuse a thought yet so low, as the joy of finding a son. You must have all my soul a while, till I have discharged myself of what I own your father. In whose name I am to beg of you, and conjure all this society, whom I esteem so justly blessed, as I doubt not of their wishes to my success, to join with me in a pretence, I am to deliver to you in the name of the King, and of a Nation, which by me now begs relief of you. This Society understands you so well as I may better ask of them then tell them, what a blessing your company is. And if it be such an one to strangers, let them judge what a joy it will be to a father, to whom you have been so long a stranger. And though it seemed misfortune cannot afford you less than a Crown, yet you ought not to make that Crown, which nature hath made yours, unfortunate. Therefore hear the distresses of the King your father, that cry so loud in the complaints of the loss of you, as they hear not the cries of all his kingdom for their exposure to the first strong power that will seize it. His age must quickly leave the first invader for his heir. You know your brother and your sister, the Prince Palant, and the Princess Miranda, perished both infants at the siege of the cursed Pamlona. Since, the King your father having destined you to the Prince of Castille, a Prince thought a match for your virtue as well as your condition. In the time of this treaty you fled, attended only by my son. I upon whose trust this misfortune lay like Treason, have been ever since in the search of you, and now the gods have been pleased to bless my despair with what they have so long denied my hope, the finding you, Madam. I must now address myself not only to you, but all this society for judgement of this pretence of a King, and a Nation, which in a new way demands relief, not by admittance but dismission.  Bel. 
I must confess Romero all you have alleged against me: But, in my defence, desire this fair Society, whose judgements would be injured in my unnaturalness, to believe that even these and the honour of this place did not divert me from the sense of my father's afflictions, whose relief I did defer to bring thee more entire, after the Prince his marriage should, have removed all subject of dispute between us.  
Here I resolve to stay till then, confident that my father's consent to the estimation of myself, in the expression of my equal unwillingness, ●o that, his passion to Fidamira did avow, would justify my presumption on his patience.  Rom. 
This was a sense Madam you ought your virtue, while the Prince's unsensibleness seemed to provoke it to a valuation of its self. But now the same virtue that did convict him will plead for his acquittance. Now as your goodness ought not to avert itself from his repentance, which his leaving Fidamira, and his journey devoted to your pardon, do assure: therefore Madam in my mind you own the King your father this satisfaction for all his sufferings, A return of a full obedience ●or all the hazard he hath run with you I have heard 〈◊〉 late, that he hath pitied so the Prince as your admission of him into yours, would b● a joy that would endear your presence. I remit myself to this Society. And b●g of them, that if their judgements agree with 〈◊〉, th●ir prayers may do so too  Gem. 
We have our own interests methinks that ask our solicitations▪ that we that know th● blessing of such a Queen, may still enjoy it, both exalted for herself and us.  Cam. 
Even this our derived light of sovereignty must grow brighter, so drawn from a more glorious body than it was ere before.  All. 
We all join in this supplication for the Prince.  K●ng. 
I think my 〈…〉 the good fortune I own this place, to contribute what my power affords to all the wishes' of this Society. And my admiration to you Madam engageth me to what I own my country and my Prince, to let you know that I w●s lately a witness of the King's wishes' to the h●ppy conjunction of the Prince, and Princess of Navarr. And I am so assured of his consent, as I dare answer for it with my life.  B●l. 
I wish the King and Prince so much happiness, as it were presumption in me to think I could afford it them. Let me ask you some questions of my father Romero.  Gem. 
Methinks, morament, you are too cold an interceder for the Prince, that are so much concerned in all his wishes.  Mor. 
Therefore Gemella I may be thought too partial to h●m. Your uninterested prayers may challenge more success Now Genorio, you that can report Princes lives away so easily, can you speak me dead too, and be believed? For only so thou canst get trust of me again, when I perceive thou canst deceive all the world. Did not some such angel tell you of Bellesa's love, as of Saphira's death.  Gen. 
Consider Sir, how meritorious this report prove● to your life, and you may think that an angel prompted i● for your justification to the Princess, and the rest of the world to whom your vow was known. Doth not this your belief approve to her the cessation of your design, which else might have been objected to you even by her? And must not the sense that you expressed then of her death, endear you to her now? And when you know the reason of this my report, even the falsehood of it will justify my trust to you.  B●●. 
Sure, ●oramente knows the Prince best of any body. I will enforce myself of him. And take his counsel b●fore I do resolve.  Gem. 
You cannot resolve better.  B●llesa goes a part with morament. Bel. 
What say you morament? Have I not chosen a 〈◊〉 couns●ll●● in ●his cause? Now you know me fully and 〈…〉, giv● m● your advice. For I am resolved to be 〈◊〉 b● you in the disposing of myself.  〈◊〉 
Confident of what you say Madam, I shall beg of 〈…〉 ●he Prince.  〈◊〉 
I● your charity morament so much above your lov●?  Mor. 
No Madam, It is my love that is so humble as to expect nothing but by charity. And if my intercession for the Prince obtain pardon for him, I shall esteem it as a favour done to me.  Bel. 
I thought you would desire nothing but pardon for him; and for your sake morament it will be easy for me to yield to as much as you shall desire for him.  Mor. 
I will no longer seem to owe you less Madam than I do. I do accept this pardon which is so strange an one, as it makes me a Prince, and the same that you have pardoned. And to deserve this grace, I do resign it back to you, and so expose my ●elfe to all your wills, without claiming any thing, that your not knowing me might seem to engage you to. You already are acquainted with my story, which I must thus far enlarge. That taking this place in the way of my design of seeking your pardon, I was stayed here by you. So I have promised myself to plead it as yourself you shall excuse. So that the dispute will be between Saphira and Bellesa. And now Madam to be no longer guilty of concealing any thing from you, I must let you know, that, that stranger which so boldly answered for the King, might safely do it. For it is the King my father. Of wh●se being here, you know the reason and the time just as I do, for I have but now discovered him. Now Madam I do so entirely prostrate myself unto your will, as I forge● any thing that might direct me to an expectation and bow myself to take your pleasure on me.  Bel. 
Thus then morament, I retract all I have fayd as Bellesa, but 'tis to say more as Saphira. Me thinks fate itself is so much interested in this our union, as it seems to have directed all which your humility can call a fault. Therefore now I confirm my promise of being counselled by you in the disposing of myself, as far as my father's consent shall go along with it, which we may safely expect for the perfection not retardance of our joys.  Mor. 
Vouchsafe to call me yourself Madam, and so believe you shall always be counselled and obeyed together.  Bel. 
Morament hath prevailed so much with me, as I have not only forgiven the Prince, but resolve to entertain such thoughts of him hereafter, as his affection shall present worthy of me.  Gemella. 
You are born for no less than the blessing of nations.  King. 
Give me leave Madam, to present the Prince to you, that he may lose no more time in the application of himself to the desert of your farther pity.  Bel. 
He hath lost no time in that. If he were now to begin, I should not so soon assure you Sir, that I trust you so much, that if I had one to answer for me, as you may for him, upon your two words I should not fear to engage myself.  King. 
By this it seems you know I am his father Madam, and you would not doubt how much I should joy to have the blessing of that name enlarged so far as to comprise you.  Bel. 
You that are a father Sir, know so well what I own unto that name, as I believe you will choose to ask it of him, whose giving it must justify my joining.  
Now Sir give me leave to retire to the new Election, that I may not be charged so much as with the breach of an order here, nor be reproached by the impatience of her▪ whose beauty and virtue is destined to the reward of this happy day. We will leave you Sir with your Son, the time cannot seem long to you.  King. 
I forget to day Madam I am a King, and only one that joys a father's name. If you will have me remember I am a King, it shall be to obey you with more merit.  Bel. 
Come Ladies, let's to the election, we shall return presently, and return a present worthy of a King, a fair and virtuous Queen.  Gem. 
I beseech you Sir conceal me still.  King. 
I am all obedience here, Bellesa.  Bell. 
Let me, Camena, desire your voice to follow mine to day. Though it seem to oppose your reason for a while; It shall not do so long.  Cam. 
I resign my voice so freely to you Madam, it shall not be mine so much as to ask a reason.  They all go out to the Election. Mor. 
Now Sir be pleased to transferr all my joys, with your blessing upon Basilino.  King. 
I will not own to day so old a joy as the name of Basilino. This is thy birthday wherein all's new; and low more to thy name morament, than thou dost to me for B●silino.  Mor. 
You may Sir, for a just improvement of your joys derive mine from the blessings Heaven ought you, that have had credit enough to crown me with your fondest wish.  K●ng. 
I have morament private joys of mine own. Thou knowest not yet, enough, not to need the ascription of all thine to me. And I will own only the giving thee that happiness, the knowing them. Which it may be thy goodnature will allow an equallshare with all thine own. But first show me the highest of thy good fortune. Fear not mine will rise unto an equal parallel.  Mor. 
I own somuch to my good fortune, I was not long a seeking it. You know Sir, it is now a year since I left you. And my curiosity was imploved. I think by heaven, to bring me hither, fi●st to the Election of the Queen. And coming into this peaceful harbour, my sails were taken off, and I coming a passenger put myself into service here. The difficulties I have met with cannot be expressed, b●t in the same words that made them. This Princess is a creature no body can guess at, but by knowing her to be a woman. A great while in a seeming neglect of all the loudly wit could make, her own made love, which none but its own ma●er could understand. But since, she hath 〈◊〉 pleased to interpret it so fairly, as you Sir underst and it too. This opinion, of her being dead, Genor●●, is to answer for. And now at this Election I was resolved to bring you back (th●t, which you have thus advanced unto yourself) the joys of a contented father.  King. 
I must tell you in private how I came thus to anticipate my joys.  Romero. 
Give me l●ave to consider well this jewel Sir.  Gen. 
You have been so lucky in finding what you have lost to day, as I may fear you will challenge it.  Romero. 
If I could challenge it rightly, you should get by it. 'Tis the same. Are you now at so much leisure as to tell me how you came by it?  Gen. 
I can direct you how you shall know. Ask the King or Prince, I know nothing of myself but what they have told me. What a reviving happiness is this sight of the divine B●lles●? Your eyes, that were this morning two expiring lamps, flame in a cheerful brightness. Now Nature by Be●l●sa's perfections can repair her own defects.  Romero. 
How happy are you then, whose youth hath so long re●●iv'd new vigour from those beams?  Gen. 
I am so happy Sir, I will not hazard this present with expectation of more which you might give me.  King. 
I have told you all which you must keep concealed.  M●r. 
Is Gemella, Fidamira? and you in love with her? and do resolve to marry her?  King. 
You will believe me when I shall tell you I love her, as much as you can Bellesa. Methinks morament, you seem troubled. Is it that any body should love as well as you?  Mor. 
'Tis but the admiration of the strangeness of this day.  Rom. 
Give me leave I beseech you Sir to beg somewhat of you this day, wherein there is no joy left you to come but giving.  King. 
It is no longer mine whatsoever you desire.  Rom. 
'Tis but a true answer to a question.  King. 
That cannot be called a gift, I own it.  Mor. 
My quarrel to thee Genorio cannot be great enough to consent unto thy misery. I must needs pity thee.  Genorio. 
There can be nothing, that hath thus reconciled me to you, that can be called misfortune. Tell me Sir what I am beholding to you for this your pity?  Mor. 
O Genorio, Fidamira!  Gen. 
Is it to her I must still owe more and more?  Mor. 
The more thou knowest her Genorio, the more thou art to be pitied. My father is in love with her, and is resolved to marry her.  Gen. 
Mine shall not then be the least contribution to the wonder of this day: for your sake I can resolve never to see her more, and so make my happiness the sacrifice of this solemnity.  Mor. 
Stay Genorio, let's think a little how to make you rather an offerer than an immolation.  Rom. 
Is this certain Sir, that he was saved at the sack of Pamlona? and this jewel found about him?  King. 
'Tis as certain as any thing on earth, and that my Son then being a child i'th' camp, begged his life of me, which he hath since loved better than his own, because he ought that, and this was due to him.  Rom. 
Then I believe 'twill be to your brave mind some satisfaction to let you know how happily this your mercy was disposed. So as it may seem a reparation for all other losses, having in this one blessed a whole nation. This is the Prince Palante you have saved. I that was trusted with him, and the government of Pamlona, can assure it. Now you may remember Sir, that you surprised the Town when I was absent, two Princes were then in my charge, this and a daughter of the Kings, both infants. The general execution that was committed then left us no hope of safety for these Princes. And since, the King having this Princess Saphira hath razed out the memory of any loss, and now the finding of the Prince Palante must be a joy to the King, and her, scarce to be believed; They did not come from Paradise: Let me then beg of you to be a witness to this claim that I shall make.  Romero goes to Genorio. 
Now Sir I must not only challenge this jewel, but you too.  Gen. 
You will lose in the value of this jewel by taking me with it. I am not so ill natured as it would not add to my misfortune to be owned by any body.  Rom. 
I am so happy as I can change you from what you do believe yourself, and so part you and your misfortunes.  Gen. 
Grow not too confident upon this day's success; undertake not such a difficulty as the making me happy.  Rom. 
You can have no such personal afflictions as the blessing of a nation will not outweigh. Therefore be pleased to know yourself, and it may be you will find your misfortunes depend on that mistake.  Gen. 
If you could teach me to forget myself, that were a more probable way.  Rom. 
Would you not think yourself happy to make these two Princes a return of all their benefits?  Geno. 
I will not hazard to be more miserable by the frustration of such a hope.  Rom. 
You, that did remit me to the king even now for knowledge of yourself, will not refuse him credit. Therefore be pleased to put off that unfortunate name Genorio and call yourself Prince Palante, Son to the now blessed king of Navar.  Gen. 
What plot is this, Sir, between your father and this Gentleman?  King. 
'Tis to make you what heaven hath destined you, a happy Prince.  Rom. 
This j●well, I have so enquired after, is the witness of what the King hath been pleased to acquaint you with. In the last war between the King your father, and this brave Prince I had the honour to be trusted with the town Pamlona, and the persons of all the King, children; who had then only yourself, and a yo●ng Princess called Miranda, your sister. The town in my absence was surprised, and the impartial execution that was committed to the incensed So●ldiers, destroyed all our hope of either of your safeties. Now the King assures me that you were then brought to him with this jewel about you, who●e command saved your life by the intercession of the Prince. The time which hath changed all things else about you but this jewel, leaves my memory no other certainty. Your sister had another too, which concurring with the King's relation, makes it unquestionable. It seems even your infancy had some such divinity in it, as did infuse a soul into that body, should have taken yours away, and so at once enlarge your obligation, and invest yourself with the power of acquittance too, to th●se brave Princes.  King. 
All this I am a witness to, and I think my son's memory will retain this mark of his charity, this jewel which was then about you.  Mor. 
If this jewel be a certain mark of your birth. I can assure you that you were brought to me with it, and then I called you Agenor, a name fitted to the not-knowing who you were.  Rom. 
I dare say upon this security your father will willingly put his kingdom into your hands, therefore put off this amazement, and put on yourself Pa●ante.  Mor. 
Why are you thus sad at the taking leave of Genorio, and Agenor?  Gen. 
I can say nothing at all in answer of what you have said, but can object one thing which you cannot answer. How can I be Bellesa's brother?  Rom. 
As she's your sister by father and mother.  Gen. 
You that are so mistaken in her may easily be so in me. She is a creation of herself apart from all things, there can be nothing so near her as brother or sister. Should I call her sister?  King. 
Call yourself Palante, and give me leave to embrace you so: then this your reverence to her will oblige you to answer to what nature shall direct her to call you.  Mor. 
This is the last emission of itself your dying passion makes, as it contests with nature, whose reviving is the others death: therefore I do not wonder at the force of it, and I do not fear but you will share joys with me in that little, I hope to owe Bellesa of your brother; and from this instant that I hope indebts me to you.  Gen. 
The improvement of my life must be the same still of my obligation unto you Sir, that must owe it you. Nor could it be a part of a discharge for me to begin but now to joy in Bellesa's love you: but I did it then, when my passion unto her made a burden unto my life.  Mor. 
Have you this blessing to give, that my father's having Fidamira shall prove your wish?  Gen. 
I have now only that devotion left, you had for the Princess of Navarre, for expiation of my fault.  Mor. 
Conceal this purpose awhile, and you may chance find her, where I found Saphira.  Ge●. 
This change of my fortune if it prove happy to me Romero, will assure me of a recompense of thy fidelity, though it cannot of my obligations to these Princes.  Rom. 
I have not a wish left now but the finding of the Princess Miranda, and the miracles of this day make nothing desperate here.  Genorio. 
Would not you wonder Sir now, if I should challenge you of being the occasion of the report of the Princess Saphira's death?  King. 
Miracles are here in their own element.  Gen. 
Do you remember Sir when you thought yourself the universal monarch of despair, and would admit no rival?  King. 
I can remember when I gave the odds between a pilgrim and a King into the balance, and yet outweighed misfortunes.  Gen. 
I can witness it Sir, for it was to me you gave it, who then in the habit of a pilgrim employed by the Prince in the search of the Princess of N●varr, met you in a lamentation, I thought belonged singly to me, Fidamira's loss, whom I had been then to seek. The sense of your affliction agreeing with mine own design, made me resolve to come back to the Prince, whom I had left here to try if the belief of the Princess Saphira's death, who was then the pretence of his remove from you, could bring him bacl. And your own direction of me hither will justify this my charge against you Sir, by which I only pretend your intercession to the Prince for my pardon.  Mor. 
Noble Palante your own revival must be a new life to her. So you will recompense her in effect for taking from her but by report.  King. 
Remember all this Palan●e. Morament what is the meaning of this between Fidamira and him? Am I not yet fixed faster than fear can remove?  Morament. 
Assure yourself Sir, your wishes with Fidamira shall not be crossed without a wish of his.  Melidoro. 
Are not these strange things that we have heard? Sure Martiro your impossibility, that is fallen to the earth, hath engendered here this day, and is delivered of so many miracles.  Mar. 
I confess this day may justify my wondering again.  Enter Pantamora hastily. Pan. 
Heaven hath sent you hither Sir opportunely, to defend the rites of the Society, which must appeal to you for your preservation. The will of the foundress, which appoints the Queen to be chosen principally for her bea●ty, is now violated in the choice of the Moor Gemella, who is now chosen Queen.  King. 
Was she chosen Queen as Moor?  Pan. 
Unless the gods have wrought a miracle for her, she was when she was chosen.  King. 
I will assure you Pantamora, my consent shall not ratify the election. [to himself] This way obligeth her to stay here.  Enter Bellesa, and all the Ladies leading Gemella. King. 
Can forgetting justice be in you Madam? you are so much interested in gratitude to beauty to be consenting to this choice of your Queen.  Bel. 
I should be unjust to beauty should I disavow this choice.  King. 
Sure she knows her I expect no less than miracles from you. And therefore will suppose you can make her handsome, if that will not approve this choice, which could not be made upon a justifiable appearance.  B●l. 
Suppose I knew she was but thus disguised, and I had been trusted with her beauty; such a trust had been broken in the concealment of it in this case.  King. 
That answers this Lady's complaint, if the beauty you produce be subject to no new objection.  Bel. 
Then thus I justify my choice [pulls off her veil] expecting all admiration, no exception, now every body remains wondering.  Gem. 
None can wonder Madam so much as I, tha● you would expose yourself to the blemish of an error for my sake. Nothing can seem handsomer in me now then blushing, which may pass for beauty as I am bound to blush for you, that are less to be credited in beauty Madam, than a●y body, because you may be so safely charitable, Therefore I must desire these more competent judges not to look upon my face but your favour in it, and as that is the loveliest thing in this world, so your choice may be justified.  Bel. 
What say you now, Ladies, and 〈◊〉 of the Society, have I forfeited this Lady's trust by thus revealing it? or my faith to the Orders, in this 〈…〉  C●m. 
'Tis such a one as leaves as much beauty here, as your leaving of the place admits of.  Mor. 
Her beauty was destined to no less glory than the neglecting all power bu● yours to be enthroned by.  Gen. 
Heaven to acquit you Madam, hath given you this reparation for her beauty.  All. 
We all admit the choice.  Gem. 
Nat●●e carries me to pay this duty.  Bon. 
I dare own the joy, though scarce the honour of this day.  K●ng. 
If I descent, it shall ●e to raise her higher yet. This place is so fruitful in miracles this day, as there hath been one wrought Madam out of your sigh●, which is no way a less miracle than yours, but as it is a blessing sent to you.  Morament takes Genorio by the hand leading him to B●llesa. Mor. 
It is so strange a thing Madam, as we may brag we have a present worthy of you, a brother, this Prince Palante.  G●n. 
O do not over-charge me Sir, I am not yet strong enough to bear 〈◊〉, much less Bellesa's brother.  Mor. 
You must be pleased Madam to lessen the distance his reverence keeps him at, and bring him in, in the name of Brother.  Gen. 
I shall not change Madam, in being whatsoever you will be pleased to call me.  K●ng. 
We have been so curious in this present we have m●de you Madam, as we have refined the truth of it. Romero, whose testimony you have approved to us, will answer, this jewel is no counterfeit, which he assures us the Prince Palante, your brother, had about him at the the taking of Pamlona, before you were borne▪ Which proves this must be he. Whose single life my son then asked, saved by the mercy of a soldier, whom the price of this jewel could not persuade to an obedience of my commands. So his safety hath many miracles in it. Romero is to answer for the jewel, we two for the rest.  Rom. 
I will affirm no truth more confidently than that this jewel is the same the Prince Palante had about him.  Mora. 
And I, madam, own you so much as I may own, the saving of your brother's life, without reproach to you or him.  Gen. 
Sure Madam nature saw her defects in me, and meant to cast me away; and since made you so corrected a perfection, it cannot be believed you were of the same hand.  Bel. 
I will answer all your compliments Palante by calling you brother, and so return half back upon yourself.  Gen. 
'tis a title Madam brings many joys along with it, but none so great as the daring, in your love to this Prince, to own a compensation of my life to you.  Mor. 
I own you the more Palante, that have furnished me with what I thought impossible, some merit to this matchless Princess.  Gen. 
I have a suit now which I deserve so little as I must join you two in an intercession for me to the Queen. I will not somuch undeserve her pardon as to desire her love.  Bel. 
Were your fault greater than my credit with her, her own goodness would assure you pardon. 'tis but the imputation of ill offices.  Gen. 
'tis more I perceive than you know Madam, I pray you lend me this veil, not to cover, but to reveal it. For it is so black a fault as passion even through this colour will lighten it. Let this Fidamira, that proved a cover to your innocence, prove one unto my guilt.  Gem. 
I had so long ago forgiven you as I was afraid you would have asked somewhat of me I must have refused you. Since you are so civil, as to think my good wishes useful to your happiness, I must esteem that a satisfaction for any thing you can remember, which I had long forgot. Therefore put off this, which is now the only mark for my memory?  Bel. 
Can you tell morament my brothers fault to Fidamira?  Mor. 
I believe I can Madam.  Bel. 
Pray tell me, I long to know it.  The King takes Fidamira aside. And Romero looking on her jewel talks to her father. King. 
Now Fidamira it is time for me to challenge the reward of my obedience, which I think so meritorious, as I shall ask no less the● yourself for recompense. My joys are yet to come. I have had no sense of all that you have had to day. I have reserved all my soul for this blessing I beg of you. I am no● yet happy, only in the power of dispensing with the election.  Gem. 
O Sir, settle your happiness on the joys of King and Father, and be not so cruel to me, as to make me guilty of your discontent to day, since it is not in my power to satisfy you.  King. 
I am so unhappy that you Madam that have had till now so much power over yourself, should lose it now for its confirmation.  Gem. 
The having had so much power over myself is that, which restrains me now, the having made a vow of chastity, which is not in my power to recall.  King. 
What strange crosses do my passion meet▪ first, it was to contest with Nature, now with Heaven.  Bel. 
If I had known this story Palante, I should not so easily have owned you for my brother. But 'tis forgiven you now.  Gen. 
Had I sooner known you for my sister Madam, I should not have been in need of this forgiveness.  Rom. 
Then this is certainly she. Will you be pleased to hear me Sir in the behalf of this worthy man.  King. 
Alas Romero, it is not his fault, I impute nothing to him.  Bel. 
What sudden cloud is this Sir, that overcasts all our joys?  King. 
'Tis Madam, that no body asks me any thing but pardon to day. And I would give any thing myself, and it will not be accepted.  Rom. 
Will you be pleased to hear me sum up all the wonders of this day? This is the Princess Miranda. This gentleman, her supposed Father, hath by my knowledge of a jewel, and a mark upon her arm, confessed to me that he saved her life at the same time when the Prince saved the Prince Palante's. and to avoid the ruin you had pronounced against such a disobedience he owned her for his child, and hath so bred her ever since.  Bo. 
This Sir upon my conscience, upon Romero'● challenge bids me accrue, and joy in these means of retribution unto her, whom I own all your benefits, the giving her the knowledge of herself,  King. 
This, Bonorio, is a merit to me above the being her father, as it will help to 〈◊〉 me from a desire would have disquieted the peace of this blessed day.  Gem. 
I must acknowledge more to you Bonorio then to a father, whose giving life is but casual, but mine was given me by the hazard of yours.  Bon. 
You have given me means to despise death, which is my despair.  Mor. 
There was but this one point wanting to close up all the blessings the circle of this world contains.  Bel. 
Lovely Miranda, sure heaven did desert the knowledge of you till the acquaintance with your Prince should make the finding you a sister such a joy as now it proves.  Gem. 
Matchless Saphira I cannot now tax nature for any of my wants, since she may answer me, She did reserve all, that she could give, for you. And it is too much for me to come so near, as being sister to such perfections.  Bel. 
What I will thank nature most for, is, for that instinct by which she did persuade me to love you so, as Gemella.  Gen. 
There is none can challenge so much joy in this discovery, as I dare Miranda. For I have not only found a sister, but myself worthy to be a brother to you both; then before, as nature now, makes my inconstancy, her predomination, not the defection of my faith.  K●n● 
Nature and heaven joining now have mastered my passion. Now Miranda I must ask you pardon, that my cruelty should indebt you to another for your life. And heaven forbids me now so much the wishing the defeature of your vow, as it directs me to present you with the reward of it. And since your vow hath chosen this residence, I will propose to the society the confirming you Queen during your life.  Bel. 
You have spoke Sir all our wishes.  All. 
We agree to it with joy.  Gem. 
I accept this as an accomplishment of your prediction, morament, of my never being enjoyed ●y m●n. And methinks heaven gave me a prevision into this your happiness, which I dare assure you of.  
Bellesa's love which you do now possess,  
May by you only be made more or less.  Mor. 
I will leave her only the power of improving it; and will but own an incapacity of ever contributing to the lessening of it.  Bel. 
I will now ease your compliment Sir of having nothing asked you to day. I will ask a blessing will add to my sense of this day's happiness: It is so great a suit Sir I will join morament with me to obtain it, leave for my brother to be received a servant to the Princess Mirabella your daughter; for whose beauty fame promiseth as much, as her birth assureth for her virtue.  King. 
This day is so auspicious to my wishes, as it affords me all my suits, I will advance somewhat to you Madam, this promise, that she is already by your desire ready for Prince Palante's acceptance or refusal.  Mor. 
There can be no dispute or scruple Madam, but this disparity between his sister and mine. If he will be content with so unequal a choice.  Gen. 
This raiseth the value of my new condition by the procurement of such an honour as the Princess Mirabella, whose perfections seem rather to add unto the lustre of your crown, then to need to be set there to ●hine. Therefore I shall beg Sir, that you will procure me to be accepted.  Gem. 
Bellesa was to bring in the last joy. Sure now all this day's miracles are perfected.  Mor. 
I have a suit more to you Sir, that you would be pleased to let me keep this happy name morament.  King. 
You may in gratitude qualify that name, that hath served you so.  Bel. 
And I will keep Bellesa all my life.  Mor. 
There is no life Madam that name is so due to, a● yours.  Bel. 
What say you Melidoro and Camena? You are tuned for your parts in the consorts of this day.  Cam. 
I am so transported with your joys Madam, I have forgot myself.  Mel. 
Give me leave then to remember you of your promise, if Bellesa left the Society with morament.  Mor. 
All is d●e that was promised on that condition.  Cam. 
Then Melidoro you are master of your wish.  Be●. 
We will carry you to Court with us, where we will be witnesses of your joys. You see Pantamora, every one that durst scarce hope their wishes, possessed of them to day, and your security only left empty.  〈◊〉 
I shall stay here Madam, and learn to assure my wishes' by bounding them within the peace of this blessed pl●ce.  Bel. 
Come Martiro, I have nothing to think on now but the making thee happy, which is so hard it will require my st●dy.  Mar. 
That may be easily Madam, by leaving me here, and receiving this offering. May you always carry with you my accomplished wishes, and prayers instead of me, [gives her a paper].  Bel. 
These be verses Ma●tiro, pray read them.  Mar. 
Reason and Wonder are so reconciled  
In you, as married they have had a child:  
Whose first conception was the birth  
Of more than was conceived before on earth  
So Love that did so long in labour lie  
Delivered of impossibility  
Is now at last, and so can never more  
B'in danger of miscarrying as before.  
For your divine example needs must prove,  
The height of virtue doth consist in love.  
So Love shining in you by this reflex  
Raiseth both light and heat to either sex.  
Since your example doth to all declare  
None innocent that love not, nay not fair.  
For they can neither handsome be, nor true,  
That may and yet refuse to be as you.  
If any thing impossible be now  
In love, 'tis that your virtue may allow.  
For even your loving doth become a proof  
It is impossible to love you enough.  Bel. 
These I understand Martiro, and will answer them with a wish to you. May your elected solitude enlarge, and fill your soul at once with such delightful thoughts as you may never think that you want any thing but time.  Mar. 
Your wishes are divine Madam, and must fulfil themselves.  Mor. 
Will you be pleased to think Madam who we shall dispatch to the King your father with these news and to desire his consent to the Prince Palante's wish and mine.  Rom. 
Let me beg this commission, that I may employ this new life that you have given me on your service.  King. 
None can be so fit as Romero, that can inform the king of all that's past.  Bel. 
I will write by you to my father, who I think will not know my brother's and sister's hands. 'Tis no time Sister to perform the rites of your inthronement.  Mir. 
There can be nothing welcome to me so near the loving you Bellesa.  Bel. 
I will promise Miranda, if morament will join with me, to come hither once a year.  Morament. 
Promise me Madam never to doubt your will.  Bon. 
Give me leave Madam to make the last suit to be received into the Society without the publication of a pretence.  Mira. 
'Tis a grace Sir you may be sure of, since it is in my power.  King. 
Among all these joys 'tis not wonder if no body think of sleeping. Let's retire Madam to that rest, may prepare us for to morrows ceremonies, where these couples must be beholding to your dismission.  Mar. 
It becomes me Madam, to leave the last wish with you.  
May you have all the joys of innocence  
Enjoying too all the delights of sense  
May you live long and know not till you're told  
T'endear your beauties wonder, You are old.  
And when heavens heat shall draw you to the sky  
May you transfigured, not disfigured die.  
FINIS.