THE LOST LADY A tragicomedy COMEDY.  
Imprinted at LONDON by Jo. Okes, for John Colby, and are to be sold at his Shop, at the Sign of the Holy Lamb on Ludgate hill. 1638.   
THE LOST LADY A tragicomedy.  

Enter AGENOR. physician. AGENOR. 

SIr, I hope Lord LYSICLES is not yet retired.   PH. 

No Sir, he commanded immediate notice  
Should be given of your coming.   AG. 

I fear my stay at the castle, hath made my  
Duty seem unmannerly, but till this minute I had not  
My dispatches from the Governor.   PH. 

Let it not trouble you, he never shuts his eyes  
Till all this other World opens theirs, nor does he  
Sleep then, but with distracted thoughts  
Labours his fancy, to present him objects that may  
Advance his grief.   AG. 

What may the monstrous cause be?   PH. 

'T was monstrous indeed, he lost his Mistress,  
Barbarously murdered by her perfidious Uncle:  
Her Urn is in CIRRHA, which my Lord nightly  
Visits and presents it, all his contracted  
Sighs of the fled day; but at his parting  
Reassumeth more, by thinking she is not: to  
Whose dear memory his tears and griefs are  
Offered, he's now alone, and the religious awe  
Which makes our Priests retire, before they  
Do adore the incensed powers, is seen in him,  
Who never dares approach her honoured tomb,  
Till a just contemplation of his loss, hath   Enter. LYSICLES, 

Made his sorrow eloquent.  
See he comes, if when he parts your haste will  
Licence you, I will relate the story of his  
Unequalled sufferings.   LYS. 

Do you depart tonight?   AG. 

This hour my Lord.   LYS. 

I will not wrong you to entreat your care in suddenly  
Delivering these small packets, but lest you  
Should believe they are merely ceremonious,  
And so bear any date, I now inform you,  
I am concerned in nothing nearer, my griefs excepted.   AG. 

I wish your Lordship's happiness.   LY. 

First, wish me a captivity, for as I am  
i'th' instant, if heaven should pour his blessings  
On me, their quality would alter. Sir, good night.   PH. 

Sir, you are sad.   AG. 

He has no heart to joy that can be otherwise,  
That sees this glorious youth groan under his harsh fate.   PH. 

What a sad accent had each word he uttered?   AG. 

I could not mark them much, but his whole  
Frame is of such making, as if despair had been the Architect,  
We may wish, not hope a long life in him.   PH. 

Sir, will you now take horse?   AG. 

I should, had you not promised the original of  
This misfortune, and trust me 'tis a bold  
Curiosity, that makes me search into it, for if  
The silent presentation hath struck amazement  
In me, how shall I guard my heart, when sad  
Disasters violence my passions.   PH. 

Thus then in short,  
These noble Kingdoms THESSALY and SPARTA,  
Have from the time, two Kings commanded all,  
Under both Titles, still been emulous,  
And jealous of th'advantages which each,  
Suspected might be in the adverse party:  
This caused a lasting war, but the fierce storm  
Threatened not till the reign of these two Kings,  
Both crowned young, both of an equal age,  
Both having all the passions of their subjects,  
Their fears excepted: the Ambassadors  
That should congratulate the new made Kings,  
As if one spirit had inspired both,  
Came with this message little varied,  
That each were joyed in such an enemy:  
No more the fearful wisdom of old men  
Should rust their swords, that fate had given to one  
Command of all. In short, their forces met,  
And in ten bloody days none could decide  
Which had the better cause:  
The virtues of each Prince so prevalent.  
Fortune was but spectator, to conclude,  
Urgent affairs at home compelled each King  
To leave their Armies, ours committed his  
To STRIMON father of Prince LYSICLES.  
The Duke of ARGOS did command the SPARTANA,  
Who swollen with the great name of General.  
Before his King had hardly left the sight  
Of his great Army, draws his forces out.  
And faced us in our Trenches: 'tis not yet  
Unquestioned, whether fear or policy  
Made STRIMON keep in his: but certainly this,  
That Virtue sharpened by necessity,  
Procured our Triumph: here LYSICLES  
Anticipated years unto his fame,  
And on the wounds of his brave Enemy,  
Did write his Story, which our Virgins sing.  
But from this conquest did begin the cause of all his misery.   AG. 

How from this? unless the King should judge  
It, too dangerous an honour to be given to one.   PH. 

he's Lord of so much Virtue,  
He cannot fear it in a Subject.   AG. 

And as the common voice reached him in ATHOS,  
There's none he looks on with greater  
Demonstration of his love.   PH. 

I know not that, but this I am perfect in,  
His judgement is directed by the Kings so powerfully,  
He cannot think his virtues injured,  
Though many should be nearer in his graces,  
It would inflict him strangely if any should be thought,  
To love his Prince better than he.   AG. 

Pardon my interruption, pray proceed.   PH. 

The Duke defeated, posts unto the Court,  
Where he designed, unto his dire revenge,  
Th'obscurest path that ever time revealed  
Since her first glass: procures his King to throw  
Neglects upon him, and to seem in doubt  
Of his obliged faith: a severe search  
Made on his papers, his treasure valued  
By the public Officer, and is himself,  
Twice deprehended in a seeming flight,  
Calumniated, libeled, and disgraced,  
By his own seeking, and belief of others,  
Who judging him to be their honour's ruin.  
First raze his house, and then demand his life  
As sacrifice, unto their brothers, sons,  
Nephews, and public loss: sedition  
Had now the face of piety, which once  
Received as just, can hardly be repelled.  
The King with difficulty doth assure his life,  
With promise of his banishment.  
This he foresaw and sought, and did disguise  
Himself, in fear of the incensed people:  
Parts in the night, and partner of his fate  
Hath his fair Niece, who is so innocent,  
She cannot think there is a greater crime,  
Practised by men than error, which does make  
Us seem more vicious, than in act we are.   AG. 

I want a perspective for this dark Mystery;  
And but your knowledge doth dissolve my doubts;  
'twould seem a Riddle, that a Gentleman  
Of his known valour, reputation,  
Should strive to lose both for some secret end,  
I cannot yet arrive too.   PH. 

Sir, you know  
Revenge doth master all our passions,  
That are not servants to her rage.   AG. 

But how unfriended, banished the reproach  
Of Traitor fixed upon him, he could find  
The way unto't more easy, I am ignorant.   PH. 

This story will resolve you, to this Court he comes,  
Is brought to th'King, then with a modest freedom  
Relates his sufferings, hopes that same hath taught  
His story ere his coming, else he should  
Continue miserable, as believed,  
Both by his friends and enemies a Traitor:  
Delivers that he sought protection  
From him, because none else could vindicate  
His innocence, which many mothers here  
Saith, he hath wept that day when fortune  
Consulted Eat, who should be Conqueror:  
You brave Lords (saith he) that were present, did my sword  
Parley? did you receive wounds on condition?  
Were these by compact? all my blood is lost  
Since 'tis discredited, what before was spent,  
Ran in my name and made that live: but now  
Great King, you only repeal my honour's fall,  
By giving death unto your enemy.  
Our Prince resents his fate, confirms him his  
By a large pension, and too soon entrusts  
With all his secrets, gives him means to view  
His forts, which he designes, and learns the strength  
Of each particular province, and informed  
Of all, makes his escape, and is received.  
Of the SPARTANA King with all remonstrances  
Of love, and confessed service; but before  
He parted, did that horrid act which  
LYSICLES must die for.   AG. 

Indeed this story doth not much concern  
Him, if I mistake not.   PH. 

At his arrival here, he left his Niece  
With this design, that when his plots were ripe,  
Without suspect he might come to the borders:  
Hither he comes, and at his entrance, is  
By a base traitorous Servant certified,  
Of the great love twixt her and LYSICLES,  
The compact of their vows, with divers Letters  
The Lovers had exchanged: he storms and cries,  
If thou dost love young LYSICLES, my hate  
Shall strike thee dead, thy hand plucked back my honour  
When it was mounting, be constant, and this hand  
Shall by her death give thee a lingering one,  
And my revenge in thy own house begin.  
Then with a barbarous unheard of cruelty  
Murders his Niece, and the same instant flies:  
Fame had the next Sun blown this through the City,  
His house was searched, the trunk of the dead Lady  
Found in the Hall, the head he carried with him,  
In honour of his cruelty.   AG. 

Sure he was mad.   PH. 

I would say so too, but that I would not make  
Him less guilty of this inhumanity.   AG. 

What furies govern man? we hazard all  
Our lives and fortunes to gain hated memories:  
And in the search of virtue, tremble at shadows.  
But how are you ascertained that he did  
This horrid act?   PH. 

He sent the bitter summons of her death,  
By her that had betrayed her; the report  
Did make her spirits throng unto her heart,  
And sure had killed it, had not Heaven decreed  
His hand should be as black as his intent.  
She begged sometime for prayer, and retired:  
In her own blood did write her Tragedy,  
And parting, wishes to her dear betrothed.  
Now hear the strangest mistook piety,  
That ever entered in a virgin's breast:  
She so much loved this barbarous Homicide,  
She would not have him guilty of her death,  
And therefore with her own hand wounds herself,  
And as she bled, she writ unto her Lord:  
At last concludes.  
They will not let me make them innocent:  
I'm called unto my death, and I repent  
My wound, because I would not hurt  
That which I hope you loved: this bloody note  
Was found the next day in her pocket.   AG. 

And came it to the Lord LYSICLES?   PH. 

It did, and if you e'er had seen  
A hundred parents at one time deplore  
The unexpected deaths of their lost Children:  
The father's sorrow, and the mother's tears,  
Would Emblemise, but not express his grief.  
Sometimes he shrieked, as if he'd sent his soul  
Out in his voice: sometimes stood fixed, and gazed  
As if he had no sense of what he saw:  
Sometime he'd sound, and if the memory  
Of his dear Mistress, even i'th' gates of Death  
Had not pursued him, he had certain died:  
Torment did now give life, at last he drew  
His sword, and ere he could be stayed, did fall  
Upon the point. This I think did preserve him,  
For not being mortal, and he fainting with  
The loss of blood, had not then strength enough  
To end himself; until he was persuaded  
To live, to celebrate her memory,  
Which nightly he doth do upon her Tomb,  
Whither he now is gone.   AG. 

I have not heard of such a love as this!   PH. 

Nor never shall of such a beauty as did cause it.  
'Tis late, and I'll not trouble you with her story:  
When you are at Court, all tongues will speak  
Her merit to your wonder. I'll bring you to your horse.   Exit. The Tomb discovered. Enter LYSICLES, and a Page, with a Torch. Enter ERGASTO, and CLEON. CL. 

And will you marry now?   ER. 

Indeed will I.   CL. 

And what shall be done with all those locks of hair  
You have?   ER. 

Why I'll make buttons of'em, and had they half  
The value that I swore they had, when I did beg'em,  
Rich orient Diamonds could not equal them:  
Some came easily, and some I was forced to dig for in the Mine   CL. 

And your prized liberty, what shall become of that?  
You swore you would not marry till there were  
A Law established, that married men  
Might be redeemed as Slaves are.   ER. 

I was an Ass when I talked so:  
Those damned books of Chastity I read  
In my minority corrupted me; but since  
I'm practised in the World, I find there are  
No greater Libertines than married men.  
'Tis true 'twas dangerous, this knot in the  
First Age, when it was a crime to break vows:  
But thanks to VENUS, the Scene is altered,  
And we act other parts. I'll tell thee,  
The privileges we enjoy when we are married.  
First, our secrecy is held Authentic,  
Which is assurance will take up any woman at  
Interest, that is not peevish, than the acquaintance  
Which our wives bring us, to whom at times I carry  
My wife's commendations, and if their husbands be  
Not at home, I do commend myself.   CL. 

For what I prithee?   ER. 

For a good Dancer,  
A good Rider, a good— any thing  
That I think will please 'em.   CL. 

Thou'lt have a damnable conceit of thy wife  
By thy knowledge and opinion of all other  
Women, unless you think her a Phoenix.   ER. 

'Twill be my best resolution. But hark in thy  
Ear Rogue, I could be content to think, and  
Wish mine and all— for the public good,  
And wear my horns with as much confidence,  
As the best velvet head of'em all, and paint  
Them in my Crest, with this Inscription;  
These he deserved for his love to the Commonwealth.   CL. 

A rare fame you would purchase.   ER. 

A more lasting one than any Monument you can  
Repeat the Epitaph of, and would it not be  
Glorious to be commemorated as the first founder  
Of the Commonalty of undisparaged Cuckolds?   CL. 

Yes, and prayed for by bastards that got better  
Fathers than they were destined to by their mother's marriages.   ER. 

And cursed by Surgeons that were undone by  
Honest women's practices.   CL. 

And this done voluntarily, which you will  
Hardly avoid, though you have a thousand  
Guards to prevent it. I that, have been your  
Playfellow, shall be first suspected,  
And first banished.   ER. 

By JUPITER never; no, though't would preserve  
A thousand smooth foreheads: if she be honest  
Your Arts cannot alter her, and if otherwise,  
Had I not rather adopt a son of thine  
Than a stranger's: and confess truly CLEON,  
Would not you for this public benefit be  
Content to sacrifice a Sister, that we might  
Love no longer by obligations, but affection; and  
Seeing, liking, and enjoying, finished in a meeting.   CL. 

Unless I had means to appropriate one, you  
Cannot suspect but I should wish a title unto all:  
But what hopes have you of your Mistress?   ER. 

No airy ones of liking and affection, but mine  
Are built on terrafirma already, which her father  
Looks on greedily, and proportions  
This to that grandchild, to the second this.   CL. 

Is he not somewhat startled at the report of  
Thy debauchery? for though your thick set woods,  
And spreading Vineyards make excellent shades  
To keep away the Sun, I mean the piercing eye  
Of censure; yet some suspicious common fame will raise.   ER. 

Indeed it was my enemy whilst my elder brother lived.   CL. 

But since his death you are altered I must  
Confess it, for then the slenderness of your  
Annuity allowed you but the election of some  
One sin: I mean a cherished sin, whilst  
The others repined that thought themselves  
Of equal dignity, in time they had their turns,  
Yet singly still; but since your brother's Death  
You have shown yourself a grateful  
Gentleman, and recompensed those that have  
Suffered for you to the full.   ER. 

A pretty Satire this, to whip boys of nine:  
Yet still I tell thee, I am another in the opinion of the world.   CL. 

Another Heliogabalus thou wouldst be,  
Hadst thou his power; but by what conjuration can  
You bring me to think it?   ER. 

By reason, which is a spirit will hardly be  
Raised in you, but thus it is: whilst my brother  
Lived, my wildness was observed by—   CL. 

But now you walk in shades, recluse, and shut  
Up in your Coach, your painted Liveries  
Supposed Faries, and she that you were wont to  
Visit by the name of Madam Ruffiana, is now  
Your Aunt, all this I am perfect in; yet cannot  
Reach the mystery of your supposed disguise,  
You say doth Masque you.   ER. 

Hear me and be converted; I say I was  
Observed by those that were nearest in blood to me,  
And with fear too, lest the ruin of my  
Fortune might force them to supply my wants.  
This caused the Ague,; this the admonitions, and  
Frequent counsels; sometimes severe reproofs,  
Every one curling himself from any hopes of mine,  
They would assist me, and those gave largest counsels,  
That would give nothing else.   CL. 

Of this I am yet a sad party, and a witness too.   ER. 

Since my brother's death, the names of things  
Are changed, my riots are the bounties of my nature,  
Carelessness the freedom of my soul,  
My prodigality an easiness of mind proportioned  
To my fortune: believe me CLEON, this poverty  
Is that which puts a multiplying-glass upon our  
Faults, and makes'em swell, and fill the eye;  
Our crimes cry highest then, when they have brought us low.   CL. 

I have not known any condemned for playing,  
But for losing.   ER. 

True, and let it be thy rule for all things else.   CL. 

It this be certain, 'twill be long ere I be reputed virtuous.   ER. 

Thou'lt never be, unless it be this way.  
I prophesy, good CLEON.   CL. 

'T is a sad story, pray let us leave it. Have you no Rivals?   ER. 

None present that I can fear, having her  
Father's firm consent   CL. 

EUGENIO, your Rival still continues banished.   ER. 

And I hope will, till I am full possessed of HERMIONE.   CL. 

Did you give him cause to draw upon you in th'garrison?   ER. 

Nor knew then any of offence, or his pretences,  
Which his folly looked I should divine; he met me on the guard,  
And drew upon me; we had a little scuffle,  
Were parted, and he banished for the insolence.   CL. 

Prince LYSICLES labours to recall him.   ER. 

By all means, he was by in the noised battle, saw the  
Prince cleave this man to the twist, divide a second, overthrow  
A third, he is his Trumpet.   CL. 

His actions need none.   ER. 

Wilt thou be happy CLEON, believe not Fame  
So far, as to make thyself less than another man,  
There were thousands that served for six Sesterces,  
That did more than both; yet sleep forgotten: 'Tis  
Now time to meet the Ladies on the walk.   Exeunt. Enter LYSICLES, kneels to the Tomb, and then speaks. LY. 

I do profane this place, for were my griefs  
As great as I would boast'em, I could not live  
To tell them to the World:  
Or is the passage which my soul should make  
Shut up with sorrow? 'Tis so, and a joy,  
A hopeful joy, to meet her must give freedom  
To my sad prisoner, when my hand shall lead  
This dagger to his heart, that parted ours.  
And Heaven that hears this vow, pour on my head  
Dire thunder, if I shrink in what I promise:  
And sacred'st Saint, if from thy place of rest,  
Thou turn'st thy eyes upon thy holy Relics,  
Accept my vows, and pardon me the life  
Of the cursed Homicide, a full revenge  
Of thy Death, and my life's misery,  
Shall make him pay the time he has outlived  
My happiness; and when he is fall'n,  
Present thyself in all thy glories to me,  
That my freed soul may owe her liberty  
To no force but impatient longing  
Of re-enjoying thee; and holy Tomb,  
The Altar where my heart is nightly offered,  
Let my winged love have passage through thy marble,  
And fan the sacred ashes, knowing no heat,  
But what he takes from them; so peace and rest  
Dwell ever with thee.   Exit. Enter HERMIONE, IRENE, PHILLIDA, all veil. IR. 

Dear HERMIONE, pinch me or I shall sink with laughter.   HER. 

What said the stranger? PHILLIDA, I did not hear it?   PHI. 

Nothing madam.   HER. 

Then he did talk by signs, he was long about it:  
What was't, IRENE?   IR. 

He long importuned her to show her face, which  
After many urgings she consented to; and he in  
Recompense made a low Reverence to her, and  
Then thanks her for the great favour, and  
Concludes he never did receive so great a one  
From any woman, since all else have done with them  
A reference to themselves: but hers was merely  
Goodness, for before he saw her be might  
Have suspected her face handsomely hid, for a  
Piece of beauty, if her virtue would have  
Suffered him to be longer in that error.   PHI. 

I would I were a man for his sake.   IR. 

So you told him, and he still courteous for  
All your anger, promised to give you what you  
Wanted of a Man, or teach you how to make one.   HER. 

Thou wilt never be old wench, if thou still  
Keep'st this humour.   Enter ERGASTO and CLEON. IR. 

Not a sigh older these seven years' if't  
Please Sir CUPID, for he blows our bellows.  
But look, yonder's your servant, there's no  
Starting now; you must stand to't, but before  
He comes to interrupt us, observe with me,  
How in that deep band, short cloak, and his  
Great boots, he looks three stories high, and  
His head is the garret, where he keeps nothing but lists of  
Horse matches, and some designs for his next clothes.   PHI. 

Where is his cellarage?   IR. 

He'll show it thee himself dear PHILLIDA, and  
Thine too, if thou wilt have him: but they make to us.   ER. 

Madam will you honour me, and this Gentleman,  
With a sight of that which doth enrich the World?   HER. 

You will not take our excuses, if we should say  
You find us now with more advantage to our beauties.   ER. 

So breaks the morning forth, but the sun's  
Rays, are not so quick and piercing as your eyes,  
For they descend even to our hearts.   IR. 

Heaven defend: my heart would tremble if they should.   ER. 

Why madam?   IR: 

See such impieties as are lodged there in a  
Man, and not be stuck with horror, 'tis impossible.   ER. 

Your wit doth make you cruel: but Madam, I  
Have something to deliver unto you, which your  
Father commanded no ear should hear but yours.   IR. 

What have you there CLEON?   CL. 

Verses Madam.   IR. 

Whose?   CL. 

Of Lord ERGASTO'S,  
Written in celebration of the fair HERMIONE.   IR. 

Did he buy them, or found them without a father,  
And has adopted them for his own?   CL. 

They are his own.   IR. 

Here.   CL. 

I pray read them.   IR. 

What have I deserved of you good CLEON, that  
You should make me read his Verses in his own presence?  
If you think I have not already as an ill opinion  
Of him, as I can have, you lose your labour.   CL. 

Read them, and I'll assure you you'll find things  
Well said and seriously, and you will alter your opinion of him.   Ir. 

Pray give them me, I long to be working wonders.  
Rubies— Peases— Roses— Heaven.   She reads single words. 

Do you not think he has done my cousin a  
Simple favour comparing of her voice to that of Heaven?   CL. 

'Tis his love makes him do it, not finding any  
Thing on Earth fit to express her, he  
Searcheth Heaven for a similitude.   IR. 

Alas good Gentleman, 'tis the first time he  
Ever thought on't; what frequent thunders  
Should I hear, if 'twere as he would have it?  
Let me counsel you, lay them aside till  
They have contracted an inch of dust, then with  
Your finger write their Epitaph, expressing  
The mutual quiet they gave men, and received  
From them; or as all poisons serve for some use,  
Give them your Physician, and let him  
Apply them to his Patient for a Vomit,  
This way they may be useful.   CL. 

however you esteem them, such an Elegy  
Would make you think your glass had not yet flattered you.   IR. 

It cannot, I prevent it, and accuse it, for  
Not showing the Hills of Snow, the Rubies  
And the Roses, they say, have being from me:  
But stay, Heaven opens, and I see a Tempest coming,  
Your Poet is a Prophet.   HER: 

I'll call an oath to be my witness.   ER. 

Madam?   HER. 

My own fears light upon me, if the might that  
Eve's the day of Marriage doth not shut me from the World.   ER. 

Why Madam, this intemperance?   HER. 

'Tis a just anger.   ER. 

If you are angry Madam with all that love you,  
There lives none that has more enemies,  
Every eye that looks upon you, you must hate.   Ir. 

Sir CLEON, our friends are engaged, pray let  
Us be o'th' party: what has called up this  
Choler in my sweet cousin? My Lord you have  
Been begging favours.   ER. 

Yes of Heaven, that it would furnish me  
With merits fit to deserve your cousin.   IR. 

When it has granted you, return to her, and  
Renew your suit; but if you stay till then,  
You must get spectacles to see her beauty with.   HER. 

Why should you hinder you repose and mine?  
You know I never loved you.   IR. 

Then he has no reason to accuse you of inconstancy.   ER. 

Why are you fair? or why has my scars  
enforced me to love nothing else?   IR. 

If your love were considerable, what an  
Obligation had my cousin to your Stars?  
Then these remonstrances of yours are  
Impulsive, and not voluntary.   IR. 

I cannot tell, but when I seriously direct them to you,  
I'll swear I am bewitched.   CL. 

Madam, this is repugnant to your other virtues,  
That you should hate a man for loving you,  
Before he did profess himself your servant.  
I know you did receive him with indifferency  
At least: whence then proceeds your hate?   HER. 

From his expression of his love.   CL. 

A cruel Son sprung from so mild a Father, if he did  
Urge you to any thing might blast your honour.   IR. 

She would not hear him, and as it is, how  
Much does he oblige her, he's now her servant,  
And would entreat her to let him be her Master,  
A request strangely modest.   CL. 

If I were he, I'd take an honourable composition,  
Let her choose whom she pleased for husband,  
And continue her secret servant still.   HER. 

You are uncivil.   Enter PINDARUS. CL. 

Pardon me Madam, this mirth's a liberty:  
Your cousin doth allow me— Here comes your father.   PINDARYS whispers with ERGASTO, he speaks to HERMIONE. PIN. 

How long is't you have undertaken to be your  
Own disposer?   HER. 

Sir.   PIN. 

After my cares had sought you out a man that brings  
All blessings that the world calls happy; you must refuse him.   HER. 

Sir, I have ta'en an oath.   PIN. 

I know the priest that gave it. Do you not blush,  
Being so young, to know how to distinguish the difference  
Of desires, and this so wildly? that you will put off your  
Obedience rather than lose one that you dare not say  
Hath interest in you; but by my hopes of rest,   Enter LYSICLES. 

I'll use the power custom and nature gives me,  
To force you to your happiness.   LYSICLES. 

How now my Lord? what miracle can raise a  
Tempest here, where so much beauty reigns?   Pin. 

My Lord, you are not practised in the cares of  
Fathers. I thought to have seen this Gentleman  
My son tomorrow; and she does not refuse him: but—   LYS. 

It must not be, pardon me virtue, that I begin  
An act, will set a stain upon my blushing brow:  
Yet I must through. Lord PINDARUS, my  
Fortunes carry a pardon with them, when  
They make me err in acts of ceremonial  
Decencies, they have been so heavy and so mighty,  
They have bent me so low to th'earth,  
I could not cast my face upwards to hope a blessing,  
The cause you are perfect in.   PIN. 

'Tis a noble sorrow, but your deep Melancholy  
Gives it too large a growth.   LYS. 

Thus all do press it; yet had my grief relation  
Only to myself, I would not part them from  
My heart and memory they justly do possess:  
But my father hath no more issue save myself,  
For to confer his name and fortunes on.   PIN. 

Our Greece would mourn if such a glorious  
Stock should end in the most flourishing branch.   LYS. 

If you do wish it a continuance, 'tis in your  
Power to make it lasting to ages. Since my  
MILESIA'S death, I have not loved a Lady equal  
With your HERMIONE, in her I hope to lose  
My swollen misfortunes, and find out a joy  
That may extinguish them: 'tis now no time  
To tell her how much I am her servant: for  
This Lord here that does pretend to her fair  
Graces, before I had declared myself his  
Rival, perchance you would believe me, if  
I had said, he no way doth deserve her.   PIN. 

Where you pretend who can, but Heaven  
That designed a blessing to my child, it had  
Been pride to hope for, hath made her still  
Averse to his pretences; but giving her the  
Liberty of refusing, I know he is removed.   LYS. 

Thus then tomorrow I'll wait on yond,  
Ladies I am your servant.   Exit. PIN. 

My Lord ERGASTO, you see with how much candour  
I have embraced your love, yet though I do  
Put on a father's strictness in my daughter's presence,  
I cannot force her to an act whereon  
For ever will depend her happiness.  
My house shall still be open to you as my heart.  
My business calls me, get you home, your servant.   CL. 

ERGASTO my Lord ERGASTO, what have you left  
Your tongue with your heart?   ER. 

Is she not strangely fair?   CL. 

You'll not believe me, if I should say the contrary.   ER. 

D''ee think that there are such faces in Elysium?   CL. 

I'm sure many better go tother way, if they  
Be not marred in the Voyage; but do you  
Remember where you are to meet with PHORMIO?   ER. 

Nor any thing else, her beauty makes me forget  
All things that has no Reference to it.   CL. 

hay day, if within these two hours, if you do  
Not forget the cause of this forgetfulness, I'll  
Be an Eunuch, what if the Prince should be your  
Rival? I cannot tell, but my Lord PINDARUS on a  
Sudden fell from his anger, to his daughter, to a  
Ceremony, to you might be suspected.   ER. 

'Tis a fear that makes me tremble.   CL. 

Courage man, if you have not lost your  
Memory, your remedy is certain: there  
Are more handsome faces will recompense this loss.  
Let us meet PHORMIO.   Exeunt.   


ACT. 2. SCAE. 1.  Enter HERMIONE, IRENE, and PHILLIDA. IRENE. 

HAve you sent for the Egyptian Lady?   HER. 

I have, and she'll be here within this half hour.   IR. 

She speaks our Language.   HER. 

Her father was of Greece, a wealthy Merchant,  
And his business enforcing him to leave his  
Country, he married a Lady of that place where he lived,  
Who excellent in the Mystery of divination,  
Hath left that knowledge to her daughter,  
Enriched with thousand other modest virtues,  
As is delivered to me by those are frequent with her.   IR. 

Do you believe what PHILLIDA saith,  
Is the voice of all your friends?   HER. 

What is't?   IR. 

That you shall marry with Prince LYSICLES.   PHI. 

I heard your Uncle say, the Governor did  
Receive it with all appearances of joy, in hope  
This match will free him from this deep Melancholy:  
And 'tis determined the next feast joins your hands.   HER. 

The Grave must be my bed then:  
With what harsh fate doth Heaven afflict me,  
That all those blessings which make others happy,  
Must be my ruin? but if this lady's knowledge  
Shall inform me, that I shall ne'er enjoy EUGENIO,  
Darkness shall cease near Tapers light,  
My blushes to the forsworn Hymen's rights.   IR. 

Why should you labour your disquiet cousin?  
Anticipating thus your knowledge, you will make  
Your future sufferings present, and so call  
A lasting grief upon you, which your hopes  
Might dissipate till Heaven had made your mind  
Strong enough to encounter them.   HER. 

Dear IRENE, our Stars, whose influence doth govern us,  
Are not malignant to us, but whilst we  
Remain in this false earth: he that hath courage  
To divest himself of that, removes with it  
Their powers to hurt him; and injured love  
Who sees that Fortune would usurp his power,  
I know will not be wanting.   Enter ACANTHE the moor. 

See, the Lady comes.  
Madam, the excuse that justifies sick men that  
Send for their Physician, must beg my pardon,  
That did not visit you to have this honour. Here you see  
A Virgin, that hath long stood the mark of Fortune,  
And now's so full of misery, that though the gods  
Resented what I suffer, yet I fear  
That they have plunged me to extremes exceed  
Their own assistance.   MO. 

Fear not their power.   HER. 

I do not, but their will to help me I must doubt,  
For those that know no reason of their hate,  
Must fear it is perpetual.  
And let the Ensigns of their wrath fall on me,  
If ere by any willing act I have  
Provoked their justice: to you now, in whom  
'Tis said, as in their Oracle they speak. I come to  
Know what mighty growth of dangers are decreed me.   MO. 

First, dearest Lady, do not think my power  
Greater as my will to serve you, 'tis so weak  
That if you should rely on't, I shall seem  
Cold in your service, when it does not answer  
What is expected from it, all I know,  
Is but conjectured, for our Stars incline,  
Not force us in our actions. Let me observe your face.   HER. 

Do, and if yet you are not perfect in your Mysteries,  
Observe mine well, and when you meet a face  
Branded with such a line, conclude it miserable:  
When an eye that doth resemble this,  
Teach it to weep betimes, that so being lost,  
It may not see those miseries must be his only object.   The moor starts. 

Are my misfortunes of that horrid shape,  
That the mere speculation doth affright  
Those whose compassion only it concerns?  
I that must stand the strokes then, what defence  
Shall I prepare against them? yet a hope  
That they be ripened now to fall on me,  
Lightens a desperate joy to my dark soul.  
For the last dart shall be embraced  
As remedy, to cure my former wounds.   MO. 

'Tis not that, I was surprised in considering I must  
Partake of all your fortunes, for our ascendants  
Threaten like danger to us both.   HER. 

Are then my miseries grown infections too,  
Must that be added? pardon me gentle Lady this sad crime.  
I must account amongst my secret faults:  
I meant no more but to communicate,  
Not part my sorrows with you.   MO. 

Would you could, with what great willingness  
Should I embrace a share of what afflicts you.  
I'd haste to meet and ease you of your fears.  
Now if to one whose interest do force her  
To advance your hopes, you dare deliver  
The cause of your disquiet, you shall find  
A closet, if not a fort, to vindicate your fears.   HER. 

You shall know all. I have exchanged my heart  
With a young Gentleman's now banished  
His Country and my hopes, his rival labours  
To make me his, my Father resolute,  
I should consent, till Fortune changed, but  
Lessened not my sufferings; for our Prince  
LYSICLES ruins me with the honour of his search.   MO. 

Does EUGENIO know you love him?   HER. 

No.   MO. 

Why does he doubt it?   HER. 

A womanish scorn to have my love revealed,  
Made me receive his declaration of it,  
As an affront unto my honour.  
And when he came to take his leave,  
I left him in the opinion I would obey my Father.   MO. 

I've heard as much; but contradictions  
In the PRINCE's actions do amaze me:  
They say he loves your friend, and labours now  
For to recall him, and that every Night  
He courts his former flame, hid in the ashes  
Of his lost Mistress.   HER. 

By this judge how miserable I am?  
That my malignant Stars force them to change  
Nature and Virtue too, that else would shine,  
Unmoved like the Star, that does direct  
The wandering Seamen: must then Nature change,  
And will not Fortune cease to persecute?  
Good gods; I will submit to all but breach of faith.   MO. 

They will not hear us Madam, unless we  
Contribute to their aid our best endeavours.  
I have thought a way may for a time secure you;  
You must dissemble with the Prince, and seem  
To love ERGASTO.  
'Tis not impossible, but he seeing you  
Prefer one so beneath him, may provoke  
A just neglect from him; then for ERGASTO,  
Besides the time you gain, there may succeed  
A thousand ways to hinder his pretence.   HER. 

Can my heart e'er consent my tongue should say,  
I am to any other but EUGENIO?  
No my dear Love, though cruel Fate hath severed  
My vowed embraces, yet hath Death Ice enough  
To fright all others from them.   MO. 

I see Love is a Child still, what a trifle  
Doth now disturb him: You will not get your health  
O'th' price of saying you are sick; I know  
There is another remedy more proportioned for your disease,  
But not for you that suffer, which is this:  
Tell the Prince that you're engaged, but he  
That broke with vows and friendship, for your love,  
Will not desist for such supposed slight lets,  
And then your Father will force you to his will.   HER. 

If the Prince leave me, it is most certain  
He'll use his power to make me take ERGASTO.   MO. 

Those that in dangers that do press them nearly,  
Will not resolve,  
Upon some hazard, and give leave to chance  
To govern what our knowledge cannot hinder,  
Must sit still, and wait their preservation from a miracle.   HER. 

I am determined; for knives, fire, and Seas shall lose  
Their qualities, 'ere Fate shall make me his:  
And if Death cannot be shunned, I'll meet it boldly.   Enter IRENE. IR. 

cousin, the Prince is come to see you.   MO. 

Good Madam use some means that I may speak  
With him before he goes; my heart doth promise  
I shall do something in your service, and  
Be sure when he first speaks of love, seem not  
To understand him.   Exit. Enter LYSICLES. LY. 

Madam, I have begged leave of your Noble Father,  
To offer up myself a servant to your virtues.   HER. 

It is a grace our family must boast of,  
That you descend to visit those that style  
Themselves your creatures, made such by your goodness,  
Which we can only pay by frequent prayers,  
That your Line may last, as glorious to  
Posterity, as your now living fame is.   LY. 

Madam, you were not wont, by a feigned praise,  
To scorn those that admire you; or would you thus  
Insinuate what I should be, by telling  
Me I am, what I must ever aim at.   HER. 

Were there proportion twixt our births my Lord,  
'I would ill become a virgin's mouth to utter  
How much you do deserve, that will excuse,  
When I shall say, our Greece ne'er saw your equal.   LY. 

I did not think I ever could be moved  
With my own praise, but now my happiness  
So much depends, that you shall truly think  
What now you utter of me; that I glory  
My actions are thus favoured by your judgement.   HER. 

We must forget our safeties, and the gods,  
Whose Instrument you were of our deliverance,  
When we are silent of the mighty Debt  
This Kingdom owes your courage.   LY. 

This declaration of your favouring me, will plead  
My pardon, if I do omit the Ceremonial circumstance,  
Which usually makes way for this great truth  
I now must utter. Madam, I do love  
Your virtues with that adoration,  
That the all-seeing Sun does not behold  
A Lady that I love with equal ardour.  
Our friends have most power over us, both  
Do second my desires of joining us  
In the sacred tie of Marriage.   HER. 

My Lord, I thought at first how ill my words  
Became a virgin's but give'em the right sense  
They were designed, which was to speak you truly,  
Not with a flattering ambition:  
They might engage you to the love of one  
So far unequal, if I have ever gained  
Any thing on your goodness, I'll not lose it  
By foolishly aspiring to that height,  
You must in honour dispossess me of  
When I was seated: Marry you my Lord!  
The King, our neighbour Princes, all good men  
Must curse me as a stain to those great virtues  
You're the single Lord of; if you speak this to try  
What easy conquest you can make of all,  
You faintly but pretend to, I'll confess  
The weakness of our Sex, who would be prouder  
Only to have the shows of your affection,  
Than real loves of any they can hope  
With Justice to attain to.   LY. 

whatever I deserve,  
The gods have largely recompensed my intent  
Of doing virtuously, if it hath gained so much  
Upon your goodness, as to make a way for my affection.   HER. 

My Lord, I do not understand you.   LY. 

Pardon me dearest Lady, if my words  
Too boldly do deliver what my actions  
And frequent services should first have smoothed  
The way they are to take, my Happiness  
So nearly is concerned, you shall approve  
Me for your Servant, that I trembling haste,  
To know what rigours or what joys expect me.  
But ere you do begin to speak my Fate,  
Know whom you do condemn, or whom make happy:  
One, that when misery had made so wretched,  
That it ravished his desires to change,  
Whose eyes were turned inward on his grief,  
Pleased with no object but what caused their tears,  
Your beauty only raised from his dark seat  
Of circling sorrows, lighting me a hope  
By you I might receive all happiness,  
The gods have made my heart capacious of.   HER. 

Good my Lord, give me leave again to say,  
I dare not understand you, you are too noble  
To glory in the conquest of a heart  
That ever hath admired you, and to think  
You can so far forget your Birth and Virtue,  
As to believe me fit to be your Wife,  
Were a presumption, that swelling pride  
Must be the father of, which never yet  
My heart could be allied to: continue Prince,  
Be the example of a constant love,  
And let not your MILESIA'S ashes shrink  
With a new piercing cold, which they will feel  
I'th' instant, that your heart shall be consenting  
To any new affection, and give me leave to say,  
Your mind can ne'er admit a noble Love,  
If it hath banished hers your memory.   LY. 

Must that be argument of cruelty,  
Which should be cause of pity? And will you  
Assume the Patronage of envious Fortune  
By adding torments unto her affliction?  
Must I be miserable in losing you,  
Because the gods thought me unworthy her?  
Did I so easily digest her death,  
That I want pity, and am thought unworthy  
Of all succeeding love?  
Witness my loss of joys, if sorrow could  
Have killed me, I had not lived to show you mercy.   HER. 

Protect me Virtue,  
Pardon me my Lord, I know your griefs  
How great and just they are, and only meant  
By mentioning MILESIA, to confess  
How much unworthy I am to succeed her  
In your affection, which though you bent  
As low as I durst raise myself to reach,  
'T were now impiety for me to grasp,  
I being no more my own disposer.   LY. 

Ha, what Fate hath ta'en you from yourself:   HER. 

The Lord ERGASTO'S importunity,  
Whom though at first no inclination  
Of mine made me affect his vows,  
Hath vanished my determination,  
I finding nothing in myself deserving  
The constancy of his affection to me,  
Besides my Fathers often urging me  
To make my choice obeying his commands,  
And threatning misery, if I declined the least,  
Knowing his violent nature, I consented  
To a contract twixt me and the Lord ENGASTO.   LY. 

Oh the prophecies of my unjust fears how true  
My heart foretell you!  
Madam, it cannot be you should affect  
One that hath no desert, but what you give,  
By making him a part of you, my hopes  
Though always blasted, could not apprehend  
A fear from him: I should be happy yet,  
If any worthy love shadowed my shame  
Of being refused by you.   HER. 

Give not my want of power to serve your Grace,  
The cruel Title of refusing you.  
Your merits are so great, you may assure  
yourself of all you can desire that's possible  
To grant, whom thousand worthier than myself  
Would kneel to.  
By my life, if my Faith were not given, I would  
Here offer up myself to be disposed by you.  
Though no ambitious pride could flatter me,  
You could descend to raise me to your height.   LY. 

Must this be added to my former griefs?  
That in the instant you profess to pity  
What I must suffer in your loss; your virtue,  
For which I admire you, must exclude  
My hopes of ever changing your resolves:  
Yet let my vows gain thus much of you,  
That for a Month you will not marry him;  
I know your Father will not force you to't,  
For he not knowing what hath passed between you,  
Consented to this visit.   HER. 

By all things holy this I swear to do,  
Though violent Diseases should enclose me  
Till the Priest joined our hands; yet if you please  
Let not my Father know, but he's the cause,  
I dare not look upon the mighty blessing  
Your love doth promise.   LY. 

May I not know the reason?   HER. 

That he may know, that this unquestioned power  
Hath forced me to that error, which himself,  
And I, must ever mourn unpitied.   LY. 

Now you throw Oil upon the wound you make:  
I may be ignorant of all things else,  
But of my want of merit to deserve  
I am most perfect in: be happy Lady,  
He that enjoys you shall not need that prayer:  
My Father's business calls me.   HER. 

Let me entreat you, that you'll see a Lady,  
Whose virtues do deserve the honour of our knowledge.   LY. 

What is she?   HER. 

An Egyptian Lady, lately come to Cirrha.   LY. 

I have heard of her; they say she knows our  
Actions past, and future.   HER. 

When you know her, you will believe me,  
That virtue chose that dark inhabitation,  
To hide her Treasure from the envious world.  
I'll call her to your Grace.   Enter ACANTHE. HER. 

Madam, this is the Prince.   He salutes her. MO. 

You need not tell me it, though this be the first  
Time that I saw him since I came to Cirrha,  
His Fame doth make him known to all that are  
Remotest from him.   LY. 

My miseries indeed have made it great;  
For all things else I should be more  
Beholding unto silence, than the voice  
Of my most partial friends: Why do you gaze upon me so?   MO. 

Have you not lately lost a Lady that did love you dearly?   LY. 

If you do measure time by what I suffer,  
My undiminished grief tells me but now:  
But now I lost her, if the sad Minutes,  
That have oppressed me since the fatal stroke,  
It is an age eternity of torments I have felt.   MO. 

Good Sir, withdraw a little, I shall deliver   They whisper. 

What you believe, none know besides myself.   LY. 

Most true it is, what god that heard our  
Vows hath told it you?  
But if your eyes pierce farther in their secrets  
Than our weak fancies can give credit to,  
Tell me if where she is, she can discern and know my actions?   MO. 

Most perfectly she does, and mourns your loss of faith,  
That now begin after so many vows,  
So many oaths you would be only hers,  
To think of a new choice.   LY. 

This may be conspiracy. I'll try it further.   MO. 

Had you been snatched from her, and for her sake  
Murdered, as she for you, your Urns cold ashes  
Should have hid her fire of faithful love.  
Pardon me my Lord.  
Her injured spirit inspires me with this boldness.   LY. 

I am certain, this is no inspiration of the gods,  
It cannot be she should consent, my faith  
Should be the ruin of my name and memory,  
Which necessarily must follow, if virtuous love  
Did not continue it to future ages.   MO. 

Fame of a constant lover will eternize it  
More than a numerous issue; would you hear  
herself express her sorrow?   LY. 

If I should desire it, it were impossible.   MO. 

You conclude too fast: if this night you'll come  
Unto her Tomb, you there shall see her.   LY. 

Though she bring Thunder in her hand, I will not fail to come.  
And though I cannot credit that your power can procure it,  
My hope's it should be so, will overcome my reason.  
Ladies, I am your servant.   Exit. MO. 

Madam, I cannot stay to know particulars,  
Of what hath passed betwixt you and the Prince:  
Only tell me how he relished your saying, you  
Were promised to ERGASTO?   HER. 

Respects to one I seemed to have made choice of,  
Made him forbear his Character:  
But shall not I be punished seeming to prefer,  
One so unworthy both to EUGENIO, and this noble Prince?   MO. 

The gods give us permission to be false,  
When they exclude us from all other ways,  
Which may preserve our faith.  
Longer I dare not stay, I am your servant.   Exeunt. Enter ERGASTO, CLEON, FORMIO. ER. 

Now we are met, what shall we do to keep us together?   PH. 

Let's take some argument may last an hour of mirth.   CL. 

If you'll have ERGASTO be of the parley, it must  
Be of the Ladies, for he is desperately in love.   PH. 

If the disease grow old in him, I'll pay the physician;  
But be it so, and let it be lawful to change as often as we will.   ER. 

What the Ladies?   PH. 

The discourse of them, and themselves too, if we  
Could arrive to it: but what is she you love?   ER. 

One that I would sacrifice half my life,  
To have but a week's enjoying of.   PH. 

At these games of love we set all; but the best is,  
We cannot stake, and there's no loss of credit in the breaking.  
CLEON, hast thou seen him with his Mistress?   CL. 

Yes; and he stands gazing on her, as if he were begging  
Of an Alms.   PH. 

'Tis not ill done; but does he not speak to her?   CL. 

Never, but in Hyperboles; tells her, her eyes are Stars,  
Which Astronomers should only study to know our Fate by.   PH. 

'Tis not amiss, if she have neither of the extremes.   CL. 

What do you intend?   PH. 

I mean, neither so ill favoured, as to have  
No ground for what we say, for their belief  
Will hardly enter; nor so handsome, as to have  
It often spoken to her: For your indifferent beauties  
Are those whom flattery surpriseth, there being  
So natural a love and opinion of ourselves,  
That we are adapted to believe that men are rather  
Deceived in us, than abuse us.   ER. 

Your limitation takes away much of my answer:  
But grant all that you say, I have no hope of  
Obtaining my Mistress.   PH. 

Then thou hast yet a year of happiness:  
But why I prithee?   ER. 

She is so deserving, she thinks none worthy  
Of her affections, and so can love none.   PH. 

You have more cause to doubt, that she will never  
Affect you, than that already she is not in love:  
What a young handsome Lady, that carries the flame of her heart in her cheeks, not have yet seen any one to desire? 'tis impossible.   ER. 

I was of your mind, till I had experience  
Of the contrary.   PH. 

Conceits of yourself, makes you of the opinion  
I mentioned: You think 'tis impossible for all men,  
What you cannot attain to; what Arts  
Have you used to gain her?   CL. 

He knows none but distilling sighs  
At the Altar of her beauty.   PH. 

I he be subject to that frenzy, I will  
Counsel him to take any Trade upon him  
Rather than that of Love.   ER. 

And do you think there is any thing fitter  
To call down affection than submission?   PH. 

Nothing more opposite for languishing transports;  
Whinings and Melancholy makes us more laughed at,  
Than beloved of our Mistresses; and with reason:  
For why should we hope to deserve their favours,  
When we confess we merit not a lawful esteem of ourselves?   CL. 

I have known some their Mistresses have forsaken,  
Only because they were certain the world took notice  
They were deeply in love with them.   PH. 

And they did wisely; for the victory being got,  
They were to prepare for a new Triumph, and  
Not like your City Officers, ride still with the  
Same Liveries. Some I confess, have miscarried  
In it, but 'twas because their provision of  
Beauty was spent before they came to composition.   ER. 

Thou were't an excellent fool in a chamber, if you  
Continue, you'll be so in a Comedy: Dost believe  
thou canst swagger them out of their loves?   PH. 

Sooner than soften their hearts by my tears,  
And though a River should run through me,  
I would seal up my eyes, before a drop should  
Come that way: for our unmanly submissions  
Raise them to that height, that they think  
We are largely favoured, if they harken to us with contempt.   ER. 

'Tis safer they should do so, than hate us for our insolence.   PH. 

If thou hast ever been used to talk sense,  
I should wonder at thee now: why I should  
Sooner hope to gain a Lady after the Murder  
Of her family, than after she had an opinion  
I deserved to be slighted by her.   CL. 

'Fore VENUS he talks with Authority: I know  
Not well what he has said, but methinks  
There is something in it: prithee let's harken to him.   PH. 

Do; and if I do not dispossess you of all your  
Opinions, let me be—   ER. 

You must deal by enchantment then; for I am  
Resolved to stick to my conclusions.   PH. 

'Tis the best holdfast your foolish Devil has,  
But strong reasons shall be your exorcism.  
Tell me first what is she you love?   ER. 

Would I could.   PH. 

Then for all thy jesting, there's some hope  
Thou art yet in thy wits.   ER. 

You mistake me; I mean I could not tell, because  
No Tongue can speak her to her merit.   PH. 

Heyda, if the Ballad of the Rose and the Honeycomb  
Do not do it more than she deserves, or almost any woman,  
Let me be condemned to sing the funerals of parrots.   CL. 

Would the Ladies heard you.   PH. 

They would believe me, though they would be  
Sorry your honour's should: but what, this love  
Has it transformed us all? CLEON, you can tell  
Who 'tis he thus admires?   CL. 

Yes, and will; 'tis HERMIONE, PINDARUS his heir.  
PH, What EPICTETUS in a petticoat? she that disputes love into nothing, or what's worse, a friendship with a woman?   CL. 

The same, and I know you'll confess she's deserving   PH. 

Yes, but the mischief is, she'll ne'er think so  
Of him: If POLYGAMY were in fashion, I would  
Persuade him to marry her, to be Governess to the rest,  
But not till then, wouldst thou be content  
To lie with a Statue, that will never confess more of love,  
Than suffering the effects of thine?   CL. 

And have his liberties in the discourse of her friends,  
That her retiredness may be more magnified.   PH. 

Believe me ERGASTO, these severe beauties, that  
Are to be looked on with the eyes of respect,  
Are not for us: we must have them that love to  
Be praised more for fair Ladies, than judicious.   ER. 

You mistake me gentlemen, I choose for myself, not for you.   PH. 

Faith for that, whoever marries, must sacrifice  
To Fortune, and she, whose wisdom makes her  
Snow to you, may be Fire to another: Some odd  
Wrinkled fellow, that conquers her with wit,  
May throw her on her back with reason. Take  
This from the Oracle, that for the general  
Calamity of Husbands, all women are reputed  
Vicious, and for the quiet of particulars,  
Every one thinks his wife the Phoenix.   ER. 

You have met with rare Fortunes.   PH. 

Calumny is so general, that Truth has lost  
Her credit: But to th'purpose, what Rivals? what hopes?   CL. 

A potent Rival takes away all; LYSICLES does woe her.   PH. 

Good night, I will dispute it no more, whether thou  
Shouldst have her, or no; for now I conclude, it is impossible.   ER. 

I had her Father's firm consent before he declared himself.   PH. 

Though thou hadst hers too, be wise, and despair  
Betimes: In this point Women are Commonwealths,  
And are obliged to their faiths no farther  
Than the safety and honour of the State is  
Concerned: If thou were't the first example, I  
Would excuse thee for being the first cozened.  
But stay, who's here?   Enter PHILLIDA veiled, beckons to ERGASTO. 

O'my conscience, an Embassage from some of  
Your kind Mistresses, that would fain take their  
Leaves before you go to captivity.   ER. 

Is't possible?   PHI. 

She desires you to see her, and believe that ambition  
Cannot gain more upon her than your affection.   ER. 

Take this Ring, and this.   PHIL. 

I dare not Sir.   ER. 

I'll pay thy Dowry then within this half hour;  
I'll wait on her.   Exit PHILLIDA. CL. 

From what part of the Town came this fair day  
In a Cloud, that makes you look so cheerfully?   ER. 

A 'las Gentlemen, I was borne to know nothing  
Of love, but sighs and despairs.  
I can be servant to none that have the election of two.   CL. 

Unriddle, unriddle.   HER. 

'T was the servant of HERMIONE that came to  
Have nigh wait upon her Lady.   CL. 

PHORMIO, what do you think of this?   PH. 

I won't think at all, for fear I judge amiss.  
The Mazes of a woman are so intricate, no  
Precept can secure us: yet this I am resolved on,  
She will not love you.   CL. 

Why sent she for him then?   PH. 

The Devil that advised her can tell you, they  
Will not lose a servant whilst he lives,  
Though they command him to be murdered: 'tis the  
Woman Art, if they perceive a lover to desist  
Through fear, distrust, or harsher usage, they  
Open him the Heaven of their beauty, in smiles,  
And yielding looks, and with their eyes do melt  
The ice of doubts their fears contracted: perhaps  
Prince LYSICLES spurs coldly, whilst he rides  
Alone, and you must strain to make him go  
The faster: EUGENIO too was servant to your  
Mistress, and LYSICLES and he parted good friends.  
Should I think all the ways they have to cozen  
Us, 'twere endless: but I'll along with you,  
And guess at more.   Exeunt.   


ACT. 3. SCAE. 1.  Enter HERMIONE, IRENE, PINDARUS following. PIN. 

Tell my Lord LYSICLES, I will attend him in the walks.  
Where's this ungrateful child, whom the just gods  
Have cursed so much, they will not let her take  
The blessings they do offer?   HER. 

Here Sir, on her knees, begging your pardon, or your pity.   PIN. 

Canst thou hope either from my injured patience,  
Vexed by thy folly into rage and madness,  
What colour now to cover disobedience?  
Is LYSICLES unworthy? or your knowledge,  
Does it pierce farther than the eyes of all  
Into EUGENIO'S virtues? I tremble  
When I think thou mayst have cause  
To know him to thy shame: do not confess it,  
By the just gods if I do come to know it,  
I'll sacrifice thee on thy Mother's Tomb.   HER. 

What secret sin calls down this punishment?  
That I should be accused of a fault  
I dare not hear the sound of. Add not Sir  
Suspicions of new crimes unto your rage;  
The faults I have committed are enough to arm  
Your Justice; bring me to the Tomb,  
And kill me there, my Mother's Ghost will smile  
To see my blood shed to preserve my faith.   PIN. 

Your faith?   HER. 

Yes Sir:  
Nor is my disobedience so swollen,  
As you endear it by your passion:  
I now obey your general commands,  
Of doing vertuously in loving him  
You did applaud, whilst my poor brother lived.   PIN. 

But you are not the same, 'twas never meant  
He should enjoy you if your brother died.   HER. 

I was not made acquainted with so much,  
But strengthened by your approbation,  
Gave up my will to his, and vows to heaven  
to know no other man for husband.   PIN. 

Nor I no child, if you continue thus:  
Nor will I argue more to make you doubt,  
I am not resolute in my intents:  
A live or dead I'll give thee in the hands of LYSICLES.   HER. 

Good gods, if you are moved with tears, grant  
This a trial only of the weak proportion  
Of virtue you have lent me, not the overthrow.   IR. 

How is it dearest cousin?   HER. 

As with a Martyr, almost as much pleased with  
Knowledge what I dare to suffer for EUGENIO,  
As grieved with my affliction: Fortune in her  
Malice has given me yet a field to exercise  
My faith and love to him I do adore.   IR. 

Whilst you believe you have such cause to grieve,  
All comforts seem importunate; but yet Prince LYSICLES—   HER. 

But what? Forbear, I fear thy thoughts  
Are poisoned, which thou wouldst fain infuse  
To wound my constancy.   IR. 

Sure there is Magic in that mystic name,  
It could not else divide us from our reason:  
What Law, what faith can bind us to remove  
Love of ourselves, and reverence to our parents?  
You must forgive this; your EUGENIO,  
If he were here, must speak as I do now,  
Granting his love be great as his profession,  
For that must have reflection on your peace,  
Not bargaining for his own happiness  
With the price of the entire destruction  
Of yours: what is't you fear report?  
It will reproach your being obstinate,  
Or breach of faith: D''ee fear?  
The gods for you have made it not a fault,  
Proposing such an object as Prince LYSICLES.   HER. 

whoever had a misery like mine?  
All that are grieved have yet the liberty  
And ease of their complaints, or pitying friends,  
I am excluded both; for my misfortune  
Is masked with happiness, and if I grieve  
Such comforts as we give to those complain  
Of being too rich, have I smiles of contempt.   JR. 

If it be thus, retire into your reason,  
And for a time forget your passion.  
D'ye think that all the names of virtue shrink  
Into the sound of constancy? Must this  
Make you forget the debt that you do owe  
Unto your Father, friends, and to yourself;  
Their houses honour, and your happiness,  
Is LYSICLES less worthy than his Rival?   HER. 

No more, their virtues that exceeds all other men's,  
In them are equal.   IR. 

But yet their fortune is not.   HER. 

'Tis confessed: nor never any man had juster claim  
Than he against her; rich in all virtues,  
That make men desired: her narrow hand  
Excludes him, unwonted to bestow  
Her treasure there where an excess of merit  
Would make her gifts but seem the pay of virtue,  
Not favours of her partial love.   Enter ACANTHE (the moor. 

Oh you are welcome. Here behold a Rock  
That stands the shame of the impetuous winds,  
And the swollen Seas.   MO. 

Has there been any new storms since I went?   HER. 

O yes, and more endangering songs of sirens:  
A flourishing Land proposed, on which I might  
Have shipwrecked with delight.   MO. 

I think I understand you.   HER. 

You must needs:  
It was Prince LYSICLES presented in his lustre,  
'gainst whom I armed the virtues of my friend,  
And my own faith irresolute to whom  
The victory should yield: at last I left  
My heart, the prize, to both divided.   MO. 

To both divided?   HER. 

Yes, the Prince hath the adoration of my heart,  
EUGENIO the love.   MO. 

What Fires, what Seas must your EUGENIO pass,  
To make him worthy you? methinks I feel  
His soul sigh for a trial of his faith.   HER. 

We both have had satiety of that:  
But can you bring no comfort? have the gods  
Shut up their Oracles, as well as mercy?  
Though they will give no ease, they might advise,  
That we may put off misery by death.   MO. 

They seldom let us know what is to come,  
That we may still implore their aid to help us:  
Yet something I can tell, if hope or force  
Shall make you deviate from your resolve,  
You are the subject of their hate: or if  
You measure your or their affection  
By merit, or advantages of fortune,  
You are the mark of all disasters.   HER. 

I have complained unjustly of the gods,  
They favour me so much, they do applaud  
My resolution for EUGENIO.  
Merits in others, I will close my eyes  
From the blessed Sun, before they shall take in  
An object that may startle my firm faith.   MO. 

Be constant, and be happy, when you meet  
With opposition that may shake your judgement.  
Remember what affliction 'tis to weep  
A fault irreparable, and think not  
Reason can pacify your father's rage:  
You must oppose your passion unto his,  
And love will be victorious, being the noblest:  
Tomorrow I will bring more certain council.   Exit. HER. 

Where cannot virtue dwell? what a still shade  
Hath she found out to live securely in  
From the attempts of men? Come my IRENE,  
Though thou hast spoken treason against my love,  
'Cause thine did produce it, I must thank thee.  
Let's in, and fortify ourselves with some sad tale  
of those, whose perjured loves have made them live  
Hated, and die most miserable.   Enter IRENE and PHILLIDA. PH. 

If I should weep as my Lady does, for all the  
Servants I have lost?   IR. 

Thou wouldst weep in thy grave PHILLIDA: yet the  
Worst is, thou wilt lose more within this seven  
Years, than thou hast got in ten: for men are  
Changeable sweet PHILLIDA.   PH. 

And our faces were not 'twere no matter,  
They should make haste, or we she should overtake them,  
Or prevent them; a commodity of beauty that  
Would last forty years would bear a good price Madam.   IR. 

By Venus would it PHILLIDA, as high as that of honour.   PH. 

But is not my Lady a strange woman to weep  
Thus for one servant, when she has another in  
His place? for my part, I could never find such  
Differences in men to be sad when I had any.   IR. 

And thy word may be taken as soon as any wenches  
In Greece, or there be slanderers in the world:  
But she affects constancy.   PH. 

Some ill-favoured woman, that meant to preserve  
Her last purchase which her want of beauty  
Forfeited, invented that name.   IR. 

thouart in the right PHILLIDA, this inconstancy is  
A Monster without teeth, for it devours none,  
Make no Son wear happy mourning, nor  
Mother childless: and for my part, I am of  
Opinion that the gods give a blessing to it, for  
None live happier, than those that have greatest  
Abundance of it.   PH. 

What is got by this whining constancy, but the loss  
Of that beauty for one servant, which would procure us  
The Vows, Sacrifice, and service of a thousand?   IR. 

Enough of this; were't thou with Ergasto?   PH. 

Yes, and told him that my Lady sent for him:  
But to what intent did you make me lie?   IR. 

Thou art so good natured, that thou wilt pardon  
Such a trifle for one Reason, but I have two:  
The first is, I would fain speak with him,  
The other knowing my cousin to be in an ill humour,  
If he press to see her, I hope she will give him such an answer,  
That he shall never dare to speak to her more.   PH. 

These men have less reason than Mice, they would  
Know else how to shift places, and shelter themselves  
From a storm. If I were a man, and lost the happiness  
Of seeing my Mistress two days, I should  
Lose the desire the third: Do you sigh  
Madam? you are in love too?   IR. 

As far as goes to sighing, but no dying for their breeches.   PH. 

I'll be your Compurgator for the handle of a Fan:  
I know many love has brought into the world,  
But let out none: has he pierced you, ha?   IR. 

Oh no, my skin was always proof against his Dart;  
But he once found me laughing, and so thrust it  
Down to my heart.   PH. 

Look to it, though 'tis but a little weapon, but  
I have known it make greater swellings than  
The sting of a Bee. Do you long for a man?   IR. 

Yes, a Husbandman, and let the gods after take care  
For my children.   PH. 

You'll find enough to do it: is the moor still with  
My Lady?   IR. 

I left her with her.   PH. 

'Tis a shame such people should be suffered  
Near the Court.   IR. 

Why prithee?   PH. 

As 'tis, there be so many inquisitive Rascals,  
That we have much ado to keep matters secret;  
But if in despite of our care they be divulged,  
We shall be defamed on the exchanges.   IR. 

Thou hast reason, but she is secret as the night she resembles.   PH. 

Is she? I would fain ask her one question:  
But, 'tis no matter, 'tis but taking Physic at the worst.   IR. 

If thou talk'st a little longer, I shall guess as much  
As she knows: but who's here?   Ergasto, Formio, Cleon, talking at the door. PHO. 

ne'er fright me with the lightning of her eyes:  
On me she may open or shut her eyes as she please,  
But my happiness is not at her disposing.   CL. 

If thou provest a Lover, my next Song is begun.   PHO. 

I will not deny but I may love her if she please:  
But if she be not pleased with my love, if it continue  
Two Hours, I'll give her leave to tie me to her Monkey.   CL. 

Look, Ergasto has found two of the Ladies,  
And has set his face to begin to them.   PHO. 

In Verse, or prose?   CL. 

We shall hear, if we draw nearer: a good evening Ladies.   IR. 

We thank you my Lords, but if we were superstitious,  
Your company were no good Omen.   PH. 

Why I beseech you?   ER. 

Nay, I am no expositor; you come my Lord,  
To see my cousin Hermione?   ER. 

I do Madam,  
And should be proud to hear I live in her memory.   IR. 

Can you doubt it? I'll assure you, you do, she's  
Never troubled with any thing, but you presently  
Are called into the comparison with it; her Teeth  
Cannot ache, but she swears it is almost as great a vexation  
As your love: if any die out of her pity to save the tears  
Of a few mourners, she wishes it were you.   ER. 

If I heard her desire it, she should quickly have her wish.   IR. 

She would be glad on't o'my conscience, though  
The scruple of having you do any thing for her sake  
Would trouble her a little, yet I can teach you  
To make advantage of all this.   PH. 

What advantage my delicate sweet Lady?   IR. 

A very great one Six: For first believe  
He desires nothing more, than to be assured  
She esteems him for her Servant.   PH. 

Right; but does this usage show it?   IR. 

Most evidently: for being thus severe to none else,  
'tis manifest she confesseth a power over him, and pays  
His Services with this coin of scorn and contempt,  
And having her stamp upon't, he is bound to accept it.   CL. 

What think you of this Phormio?   PHO. 

A most excellent Girl, would she were poor.   CL. 

Why poor?   PHO. 

She would live rarely by her—   CL, 

What?   PH. 

Wit, I would be a good customer.   IR. 

'T would please you to hear with what Arguments  
She justifies this cruelty, and swears it is not  
Revenge enough for spoiling her good nature.   ER. 

ay, her good nature.   PHO. 

Nay, let her go on, I'll harken an Age.   IR. 

Yes, you, by soothing her undeserved scorn, have bred  
Such a delight and habit of it in her, that she  
Can hardly forbear it, when she strives to be  
Complaisant to her best friends; and to say truth,  
We are all endangered by such as you, when we see  
That frowns procure us knees, and kind usage  
Scarce gets us two good morrows.   PHO. 

If ever there were a Sibyl at sixteen, this Lady is one  
By this day you have a high place in my heart.   IR. 

In your heart?   PHO. 

Nay, despise it not, you'll find good company there.   IR. 

But I love to be alone.   PHO. 

And I would sane meet you when you are so.  
Will you give me leave to speak with your Scholar?   Hermione and Acanthe above. IR. 

If you be his friend, teach him to be wife.   PHO. 

For your sake I will do all I can: ERGASTO,  
Wilt thou be happy? Marry this Lady: Wilt thou be  
Revenged on thy proud mistress? marry her:  
Wilt thou be sure to Father, wife, children do as I bid thee.   ER. 

I will deal truly with thee; she has taken  
My heart out of Hermione's keeping.   PH. 

Be thankful, and bestow it upon her in recompense:  
She will accept it, doubt not; she has taken such pains  
To redeem it: look how she casts her eyes upon thee:  
she's thine own for ever, and has been long.   ER. 

I am desperately in love.   PH. 

Marry, and get out of it; there may be some little straining  
At the first offer of the present, but if she send not for it  
Before you get home, I'll ne'er trust my eyes more.   PHILLIDA steals away, CLEON follows. ER. 

I'll attempt it, let what will follow.   PH. 

Be confident, and prosper.   ER. 

Madam, what would you expect from him  
You had redeemed from captivity?   IR. 

The disposing of his liberty.   ER. 

'Tis just, but this may be no great favour to the slave,  
If his misery be only altered, not lessened.   PH. 

You are little curious; why do you ask who  
This concerns? well, I'll tell you, you have redeemed  
ERGASTO, and he kneels to know your commands.   

Whilst he kneels, Hermione and the moor look down from the window.   MO. 

You may believe her Madam, she loves him,  
Now you may revenge her, persuading you to leave  
EUGENIO, by smiling on Ergasto; 'twill advance  
Your cousin's ends too, if you do as I'll advise you, whilst we descend.   IR. 

'Tis festival today my Lords, and so I admit  
This mirth: but tomorrow I will tell you; I am no more  
Inclined to love than my cousin Hermione.   ER. 

But you can suffer yourself to be beloved?   IR. 

I think I can.   PH. 

He'll ask no more,  
But leave the rest to his respects and services.   IR. 

But you consider not whom you may offend in this mirth.   ER. 

I'll x re consider whom I offend in loving you:  
I wish her beauty centupled, that my first Obligation  
To you might be, leaving her: by this fair hand  
I'll never name any but you for Mistress.   IR. 

I may believe you, when Time and your actions  
Shall tell it me as well as your words.   PHO. 

You wrong your beauty, to expect an assurance  
From time, ordinary faces require it, to perfect  
The Impressions they make: yours strikes like lightning,  
In an instant; if he did not adore you till now,  
You must attribute it to some fascination:  
But his judgement cleared, he will be forced  
To continue the adoration he has begun.   Enter HERMIONE, moor, PHILLIDA, CLEON, they find ERGASTO kneeling. PHO. 

Who's that?   ER. 

The moor you heard of.   PHO. 

I have a strange Capriccio of love entered me:  
I must Court that shade.   HER. 

How now my Lord,  
Courting another Mistress? I see I must lock up my winds,  
Or you will seek the nearest harbour.   ER. 

Excluded by your rigour, Madam, I was entreating  
Your fair cousin to present my vows.   HER. 

Was it no more?   ER. 

No more, you cannot doubt it Madam, turn in  
Your eyes upon your beauties and perfections, and they  
Will tell you, how impossible it is to lose the Empire  
They have gained upon our hearts and wills:  
Fortune and want of merit may make me lose  
The hope of your fair graces, but never so much Traitor,  
As to pay homage to any other beauty, or change  
The resolution I have fixed to be your servant only.   HER. 

I thank you Sir: my Sex will be my pardon  
If I return not equal thanks; we think if any  
Manumit before we license them to part,  
They do usurp a power is ours by nature: the posture  
I found you in, was more than ordinary courtship gives.   ER. 

You might condemn it, had not you been the  
Cause on't: I never think your Name, but with  
A Reverence great as I pay the gods; and they  
Allow us bending to their Images when we  
Transfer our vows: The fair Irene is worthy all,  
Have not the hope of you, but whilst you give me leave  
To cherish that ambition; I must not own  
So great an injury, as to admit the proffered love of those  
Who are so distant from your merit.   HER. 

'T was unkindly done to undermine me.   ER. 

In her presence I will confirm this to you.   HER. 

You shall oblige me since she has wronged me:  
Irene hark you.   They talk in private. After a long whisper, the moor strives to go from Phormio, he holds her. PHO. 

In the name of darkness, d''ee think I am not  
In earnest, that you coy it thus?   MO. 

Forbear uncivil Lord.   She goes from him. CL. 

Dost thou not see that all the fire is out of the coal?  
If thou wouldst have it burn, lay thy lips  
To the spark that's left, and blow it into flame.   PH. 

What wouldst thou have me do?   CL. 

Kiss her.   PH. 

Not for five hundred Crowns.   CL. 

Wouldst lie with her, and not kiss her?   PH. 

Yes, and can give reasons for't besides experience,  
And when this act is known, this resolute  
Encounter, rich widows of threescore will  
Not doubt my prowess.   Hermione, Irene, Ergasto break off their private talk IR. 

As I live he swore all this to me.   HE. 

Hide thee inconstant man, thou art so false  
Thy oaths do serve thee for no other use  
But to condemn thee, not to get belief:  
Be gone, and leave to love, till thou hast found  
The way to truth, and let not vanity cozen you  
To believe that I am moved, because you change.  
A thousand other imperfections  
Have made me hate thee: yet I chose this way  
To let thee know't, that deprehended with the  
Black mark upon thee, thou mayst not dare  
To trouble me again.   ER. 

Madam.   HE. 

There may be some, that for their secret sins  
The gods will punish making them love you,  
Choose amongst them, Irene, I will hope, though she  
Be credulous, will learn by this, how far 'tis safe to trust you.   MO. 

This was well managed.   PH. 

What Mountain  
Have you pierced, that hath sent forth this wind since I left you?   ER. 

I have undone myself for ever.   PH. 

As how?   ER. 

I told Hermione I never loved Irene.   CL. 

Did she hear it?   ER. 

Oh yes, it might have been for sworn else.   CL. 

The Devil thou hast?   ER. 

Ask him, he made me do't.   CL. 

What course will you take to redeem your fault?   ER. 

A precipice, as being ashamed to live any longer.   PH, 

A halter you shall as soon: come, come, I'll intercede  
And be your surety: Look, she stays to pardon  
You; down on your knees.   She goes away, Phormio pulls her back, Ergasto kneels, holds up his hands, his cloak over his face. PH. 
Oh my sweet Lady, be merciful like the gods you resemble; they have as often pardon in their hands as Thunder: And the truth is, if they will not forgive this fault of inconstancy, they must live alone, or at least without men. This was the last gasp of his dying friendship to her, And now he is entirely yours.  IR. 

He has not wronged me.   PH. 

Fie, say not so, that's as great an injury as not  
Pardoning him: he has, and shall come naked  
To receive his punishment. See he dares not look  
For comfort, let him take it in at his ears.   IR. 

Pray content yourself with the time you have  
Made me lose, and let me go.   PH. 

Never till you pardon him.   IR. 

I will do any thing for my release, if he has  
Offended me, let him learn hereafter to  
Speak truer than he swears; and in time  
He may get credit.   PH. 

'Tis enough.   ER. 

Is she gone?   PH. 

Yes.   ER. 

How did she look?   PH. 

Faith ashamed, she loved you so well, and sorry she  
Had no reason to love you better.   PH. 

'Tis an excellent Lady.   PH. 

If I could make jointures, I would not take this  
Pains for your honour. Cleon whither slip you?   CL. 

After Phillida.   PH. 

And what success?   CL. 

POX on't, these waiting women will not deal unless  
They have earnest in their hands, and I was unprovided.   PH. 

Away unthrift.   Exeunt.   


Act. 4 SCAE. 1.  Enter LYSICLES. LY. 

This is the hour powerful Acanthe promised,  
I should once more behold my lost Milesia.  
Pardon me reason, that my withered hopes  
Rebel against thy force, a happiness  
So mighty is opposed unto thy doubts,  
That I'll divest myself for ever of thee,  
Rather than not believe impossibles,  
That bring such comforts to my languished soul.  
Haile holy Treasurer of all the wealth  
Nature e'er lent the world, be still the envy  
Of the proud Monuments that do enclose  
The glorious Titles of great Conquerors.  
Let no profane air pierce thee but my sighs,   MILESIA riseth like a ghost. 

Let them have entrance whilst my tears do warm  
Thy colder Marble.— Ha, what Miracle,  
Are the gods pleased to work to ease affliction?  
The Phoenix is created from her ashes,  
Pure as the flames that made'em: still the same,  
The same Milesia! Heaven does confess in this,  
That she can only add unto thy beauty,  
By making it immortal.  
Let it be lawful for thy Lysicles,  
To touch thy sacred hand, and with it guide  
My wandering soul unto that part of Heaven,  
Thy beauty does enlighten.   GHO, 

Forbear, and hear me: if you approach, I vanish,  
Impious inconstant Lysicles, cannot  
This miracle of my reassuming  
A mortal shape, persuade thee there are gods  
To punish falsehood, that thou still persists  
In thy dissembling: do not I know  
Thy heart is swollen with vows thou hast laid up  
For thy Hermione, whom thou wouldst persuade,  
Thy narrow heart is capable of love  
By mocking of my ashes, and erecting Tombs to me, which are  
Indeed but Trophies of thy dead conquered love and virtue.   LY. 

No more blessed shape:  
I shall not think that thou descend'st from Heaven,  
If thou continuest thus in doubt of me;  
Nor can there be a Hell where such forms are.  
The knowledge how thou com'st here, doth disturb me;  
Yet such a reverence I do owe thy image,  
That I will lay before thee all my thoughts  
Spotless as Truth, than thou shalt tell the shades,  
How Fortune, though it made my love unhappy,  
Could not diminish it, nor press it one degree  
From the proud height it was arrived to:  
How I did nightly pray to this sad Tomb,  
Bringing and taking fire of constant love  
From the cold ashes, how when encompassed  
With thousand horrors Death had been a rest,  
I did prefer a loathed life to revenge myself,  
And her upon the murderer.   GHO. 

I shall desire to live if this be true;  
Nothing can add a comfort where I am,  
But the assurance of your love: I know  
Faith is not tied to pass the confines  
Of this life, yet Hermione's happiness  
Does trouble me: You'll think I loved  
you living, when dead, I am jealous of you.   LY. 

Milesia, again blessed Saint, now I am sure thou art  
What thou resemblest, and dost know my secretest thought.  
But as the gods, of which thou art a part,  
Art not content with our hearts sacrifice,  
Unless our words confess it: hear me then,  
If my thoughts e'er consented to replant  
My love, may your dire Thunder light  
Upon my head, and sink it down so low,  
I may not see thy glories: I confess  
My words have sacrificed to Deities,  
I ne'er adored those stains of love,  
My tears and friendship to the best of mén,  
I hope I have canceled for my Eugenio:  
I did pretend a love unto Hermione,  
Who else had sold herself unto the rage  
Of her offended Father; had you lived,  
You would have pardoned, when infidelity  
But personated did preserve a faith  
So holy as theirs was, this is my fault.   GHO. 

My glory and my happiness.   LY. 

Yet this as oft I wept as I was forced  
(For his dear cause) to injure sacred love,  
Yet durst not but decline his severe Laws,  
When my friend's life excused the pious error.   GHO. 

Did you suspect her, that you concealed this from her?   LY. 

There is but one MILESIA, beside,  
If true, I meant her fears should aid  
My false disguise, which her quick-sighted Father  
Would else have pierced, who hates EUGENIO,  
And loves no virtue but what shines through wealth.   LY. 

My best, best LYSICLES, I am again in love,  
Thy holy flame doth lend me light to see  
My closed fires; why did not Fate give me  
So large a field to exercise my Faith?  
I envy thee this trial, and would be  
Exposed to dangers, that have yet no name,  
That I might meet thy love with equal merit.   LY. 

The cause takes all away, and want of power  
Excuseth what I cannot yet express too much of me,  
But how our loves came to so sad a period,  
As yet in clouds I have only seen,   GHO. 

My Uncle's cruelty and hate of you procured our separation.   LY. 

But how knew he our loves? though torment since  
Have wrung it from me, my joys ever flowed silent and calm.   GHO. 

I know it, but we were betrayed  
By one that served me, and the doubts confirmed  
By the moor you spoke with yesterday.   LY. 

Ha? How came she to know it, she was not here.   GHO. 

All that I ever did she's conscious of,  
And jealous of your love unto HERMIONE,  
Did place me here, to search into your thoughts,  
And now is prouder of this discovery,  
Thanifa Crown were added to her.   LY. 

To what strange Laws does Heaven confine itself,  
That it will suffer them that dare be damned  
To have power over those it has selected,  
My tears and sacrifice could never gain  
So much upon its mercy, as to lend  
Thy happy sight for one faint minutes comfort:  
Yet those that sell themselves to Hell, can force  
Thy quiet rest for inquisition on innocence,  
And to what purpose serves faith and religious secrecy  
When Magic mocks and frustrates all our vows?  
This moor than was confederate with your Uncle's passion.   GMO. 

She is the cause that I do walk in shades.   LY. 

And I will be, that she shall walk in Hell:  
With her I will begin, then seek revenge  
Under the ruins of thy Uncle's house:  
All men that dare to name him, and not curse  
His memory, shall feel the power  
Of my despised hate and friendship.   GHO. 

My dearest Lysicles, promise to be  
But temperate in your anger, and I will  
Discover more than you yet hoped to know.   Enter Pindarus and servants. LY. 

As justice that's concerned to punish crimes,  
I will.   GHO. 

Then know I was betrayed.  
Oh love, here's company, I must retire.   PIN. 

Talking to graves at night, and making love i'th' day:  
My Lord, I, nor my daughter have deserved this.   LY. 

Pardon me Sir, I could do no less,  
Being to take an everlasting farewell, but give this  
Visit to her memory: reserve your censure  
Till ten days be over, and if I do not  
Satisfy you, condemn me.   Exeunt. Enter HERMIONE and PHILLIDA. HER, Philly, take thy Lute, and sing the song Was given thee last. Exeunt. 

SONG.  
W Here did you borrow that last sigh, and that relenting groan?  
For those that sigh, and not for love,  
Usurp what's not their own.  
love's arrows sooner armour pierce,  
Than your soft snowy skin,  
Your our eyes can only teach us love,  
But cannot take it in.  
Another sigh than I may hope  
The Song being ended,   Enter PHILLIDA. PH. 

Oh Madam, call all your sorrows to you, you are  
Not sad enough to hear the news I bring.   HER. 

Would it were killing, that my death might end  
My fears, as my life has my hopes.   PH. 

You mistake me Madam, Eugenio is returned.   HE. 

Eugenio returned? thou hast reason, Phillida, I  
Should be dead with sorrow: 'Tis not fit we hear his name  
Without a miracle: where is he? send to bring him hither.   PH. 

He waits on your commands without.   HER. 

Bring him in.  
Good gods, if you can suffer me one minutes joy,  
Give it me now, and let excess of happiness  
Finish what sorrow cannot. But where's this happiness  
I fain would dream of? Eugenio is returned,  
That I may look on him, and not be his,  
And call our faiths in vain to aid our loves.   Enter EUGENIO and PHILLIDA. EV. 

May the gods give you, Madam, a content  
As high, as you have power to bestow  
On those you favour, and then your happiness  
Will be as great as is your beauty.   HE. 

Oh my best Lord, you now behold a face  
Too much acquainted with my sad heart's grief,  
Not to be stained with't: sure you cannot know it.  
I pray say you do not, you will wrong  
Two things I am most proud of, my just grief,  
And your young love, which could not grow,  
Nourished with such poor heat as now it gives.  
I have a story that will break your heart  
When you have heard it, and mine ere I  
Deliver it. Prince Lysicks tomorrow marries me,  
Or I must leave my duty, or my life:  
Forgive me that I dare to utter this.   Eu. 

Madam, forbear your tears, they are a ransom  
Too mighty to redeem the greatest faith  
The gods were ever witness to. I know  
Whereto you tend, you would have me untie  
The knot that bound our loves, and I will do't,  
Though it be fastened to my strings of life:  
Be happy in your choice, give to his merit,  
What once you promised to my perfect love,  
By which I only did pretend my claim:  
I do release you, as I know heaven has;  
Who in his justice cannot have consented  
To a longer faith in you; you must not be  
The conquest of a miserable man,  
o'er whom their cruelest influences reign.   HE. 

Some saving power close up my drowned eyes,  
Which death had long since shut, had not the love  
And hope of seeing you preserved them open.  
Have I been false for this to all my friends,  
That you should think I can be so to you?  
Add not by your suspicions a crime to our misfortune.   Eu. 

Of you I can have none, but what excuse you:  
You had made me miserable, had not your faith  
Yielded to those assaults; as worth and greatness  
Titles your father's rage, and your own judgement  
Did shake and raze it, with what disturbed mind  
Should I have looked on you my heart adored,  
And love made miserable? still you weep,  
But these are tears your fortune did lay up  
To ease your misery: had you contained mine,  
And your Suns cleared from their last clouds,  
They will more freely shine upon your Lysicles:  
For myself, my love in his last act shall recompense  
The injuries 't as done to your repose  
By killing me, then must injustice fly,  
And hale inconstancy along with her,  
From your fair conquered soul they now possess.   HE. 

Oh my griefs!  
Now I perceive the gods decreed you endless,  
Since they have made him add unto my torment,  
Whose memory before did make the sharpest, glorious:  
Tears, and sighs, and groans farewell:  
They ne'er were spent but when I feared for you;  
And you being lost I have no use of them.  
Here, take this paper, 'tis the last Legacy  
My love shall ever give you: 'twas designed  
When I conceived you worthy.  
If you believe her words, whose faith was never lost,  
Though you ungratefully have flung it off,  
If so, you be not that you accuse me for, you there shall find  
A story that will punish your suspicion.   He reads, and then kneels, and she turns from him. Eu. 

You that by powerful prayers have diverted  
An imminent ruin, inspire me with fit words  
To appease my injured Mistress; hear me, do not kneel for mercy, but to beg  
Your leave to die: I must not live  
When pardons make my offence most horrible,  
And hell is here without them; take a middle way  
If you incline to mercy, and forget me.   HER. 

Rise, this is worse than your doubts were.  
Turn not your face away; would you revenge,  
Then let my eyes dwell on't: what punishment  
Can there be greater, than for me to see the beauty I have lost  
By my own fault? look then upon me.   HER. 

No, I must yet keep my anger to preserve my honour,  
And I dare not trust that, and my eyes at once,  
If they behold you.   Eu. 

Then hear a wretched man, that has outlived  
So much his hopes, he knows not what to wish,  
Whether to live or die; yet life for this  
I only seek, that you may find I shrink not  
To punish him your Justice has condemned.   HER. 

Rise, I can hold out no longer, the bare sounds  
Of your death dissolve my resolutions:  
Forget my anger, as I will the cause.   Eu. 

Never, it shall live here to honour me,  
Since pity of my love made you decline it:  
But must——   HER. 

Yes, the virtuous Lysicles, for his respects to me,  
However unhappy, challenged that name,  
In your absence labours to marry me: yet death—   Eu. 

Wretched Eugenio, did thy coward Fate  
Not dare to strike thee, till thou turnedst thy back:  
Must I return from banishment to find  
My hopes are banished? Did I for this love Virtue,  
Pursued her rugged paths, when danger made  
Her horrid to the valiant, to be ruined  
By him that is most virtuous? Ye gods,  
Was envy, malice, Fortune impotent  
To injure me, but you must raise up Virtue  
To suppress me— If I suffer it, I shall deserve it.   HER. 

Oh my Eugenio, we are miserable,  
Yet must not quarrel love, to take or give  
A seeming comfort: go try all your power  
Of hate or friendship to undo this match,  
I'll give you leave to die first: any thing,  
But let not me have so much leave to change,  
As to believe you think it possible.   Exeunt. Enter LYSICLES and Servant. SER. 

The Physician you sent for waits without.   LY. 

Bring him in, and stay in the next room.   Enter Physician. 

You are welcome: I must employ your trust and  
Secrecy in something that concerns me. You must  
Procure me instantly a powerful poison.   PH. 

My Lord!   LY. 

Nay, no ceremonies of denial. I give you  
My Intents, not to be disputed, but obeyed. I know  
You walk not frequently in these rough ways;  
But 'tis not want of knowledge, but your will,  
Makes you decline them.   PH. 

My Lord, I have observed you long, and see you  
Wear your life like something you would fain  
Put off. I will not undertake to counsel you, in  
That your nearest friends have oft attempted,  
Without success: yet if my life should issue  
With the words I now will utter, I'll boldly tell  
Your Grace, I will not be a means to cut your  
Days off, to make mine happy ever.   LY. 

I did expect this from you; and to inform you  
Briefly, know, though I do loathe my life, I will  
Not part with't willingly, till it does serve  
Me to revenge my wrongs: and t'o assure you more,  
I will not use your Art against myself: Let  
Your composition procure the greatest torture  
Poison can force, for I must use it upon one  
Our Laws cannot condemn; because the circumstance  
That makes him guilty cannot be produced, but  
With expense of time, and my revenge will not admit it.  
By my honour this is the cause.   PH. 

If I were sure your enemies should only try  
The effects of what I can do in your service,  
The horrid'st tortures Treason e'er justified,  
Should not exceed the sufferings of those  
Should take the poison I can bring you.   LY. 

Bring it me instantly; and if the pains of Hell  
Can be felt here, let your ingredients call them up.  
If his life were only my aim and end, whilst  
I do wear this, I'd not implore your aid;  
But I must set him on the rack, that there he  
May confess my inquisition justice.   PH. 

An hour returns me with your commands  
Performed— yet I'll observe you farther.   LY. 

So, this is the first degree to my revenge,  
Which I will prosecute till I have made  
All that were guilty of my loss of peace,  
Wash their impiety in their guilty blood.  
All places where I meet them shall be Altars,  
On which I'll sacrifice the Murderers,  
To appease the spirit of my injured Mistress:  
And the last Victim I will fall myself  
Upon her sacred Tomb, to expiate  
The crimes I have committed in deferring  
Justice thus long. This cursed Magician  
Shall be the first, she did reveal our loves;  
MILESIA said she did; and if it were  
Her blessed spirit, nothing but truth dwells in't.  
If 'twere a phantom raised by her foul spells;  
She pays the fault of her abusing me,  
Insidiating with my MILESIA'S form,  
To search, and then betray my resolution   Enter Servant. 

Of serving my best friend: how now?   SER. 

Sir, Lord PINDAR us would speak with you.   LY. 

Where is he?   Exeunt.   


ACT. 5. SCAE. 1.  Enter SERVANT, and LYSICLES. SER. 

Sir, I have waited as you commanded,  
Near the house of the Egyptian Lady:  
Something is done, that disturbs them all,  
Divers run in and out, Physicians are sent for:  
At last, I went in myself, and entered her  
Chamber, found her on her bed almost distract  
With torture, cries she is poisoned, curses her  
jealousy and curiosity, calls upon your name,  
Desires, and then forbids you should be sent for.   LY. 

But I will come to her confession: courage my soul,  
Let no faint pity hinder thee the joys  
Thou art receiving, triumph in their sufferings  
That have attempted thine: Look down MILESIA,  
Applaud my piety, that snatched the sword  
From sleeping Justice, to revenge thy death.   Exit. SER. 

What means my Lord to be pleased with this  
Sad news? how can this stranger have offended him?  
I'll follow, learn the issue, and the cause.   Exit. Enter the moor on her bed, HERMIONE, PHILLIDA, and IRENE. The bed thrust out. MOO. 

Oh, oh, oh, gods! if I have merited your hate,  
You might have laid it on until my name  
Had been a word to express full misery,  
And I had thanked you, if you had forborn  
To make his innocence the instrument  
Of your dire wrath. HERMIONE, IRENE,  
I have conjured my servants not to tell you  
When I am dead, who I was: but if  
Their weakness shall discover't, let it be hid  
From the best Lysicles: I burn, I burn,  
And death dares not to cease me, frighted  
With the furies that torment me.   HER. 

Mysterious powers! instruct us in the way  
You would be served, for we are ignorant;  
Your Thunder else would not be aimed at those  
That follow virtue, as it is prescribed,  
Whilst thousand others scape unpunished,   Enter LYSICLES. 

That violate the Laws we are taught to keep.   LY. 

What mean these sad expressions of sorrow?   HER. 

Oh my Lord, Nature had not made our hearts  
Capable of pity, if we forbear it here:  
The virtuous Acanthe has been tormented  
With pains, nothing is able to express  
But her own groans: she fears she's poisoned,  
Talks of you, of Tombs, and of Milesia,  
And in the midst of all her torture  
Says, her distrust and jealousy deserves a greater punishment.   LY. 

And I believe't, nor should you pity her:  
Those that do trace forbidden paths of knowledge  
The gods reserve unto themselves, do never do't,  
But with intent to ruin the believers,  
And venturers on their Art: Something I know  
O'th' cursed effects of her commanding Magic,  
And she (no doubt) is conscious to herself  
Of infinite more mischiefs than are yet revealed.  
I am confident she is fled her Country  
For the ills she has done there, and now  
The punishment has overtaken her here:  
And for her shows of Virtue, they are Masks  
To hide the rottenness that lies within,  
And gain her credit with some dissembled acts  
Of piety, which levels her a passage  
To those important mischiefs, Hell  
Has employed her here to execute.   MOO. 

Oh gods, deny me not a death, since you  
Have given me the tortures that devance it:  
If I deserve this, your inflicting hands  
Do reach unto the shades, lay it on there,  
Hermione, Irene, is Eysicles yet come?   LY. 

Yes, to counsel you to pacify  
The gods you have offended by your cursed Arts:  
The blessed Ghost you sent me too, has told me  
Some sad effects on't, and in her name,  
And cause, have the gods hurled this punishment  
On thy foul soul, and made my grief enraged  
To madness, the blessed instrument of thy destruction,  
Which does but here begin.   MO. 

You then did send the poison, with the Present I received?   LY. 

Yes, I did; and wonder you durst tempt   

My just revenge, unless you did believe  
You could confine the Revelations  
Of the best spirits, your cursed Charms  
Betrayed first, and then enforced to leave  
Their happy seats, to perfect the designs  
Your malice laboured in.   MOO. 

What unknown ways have the gods invented  
To punish me! I feel a torment  
No tyranny e'er paralleled, yet must confess  
An obligation to him that imposed it.  
Good gods! if I do bow under your wills,  
Without repining at your sad decrees,  
Grant this to recompense my martyrdom,  
That he that is the Author of my sufferings,  
May never learn his error.  
Sir, if torments e'er could expiate the crimes  
We have committed, mine might challenge your pardon  
And your pity: I feel Death entering me;  
Love the memory of your Mylesia, and forgive—   IR. 

Help, help, she dies.   LY. 

If it be possible, call life into her for some minutes,  
Her full confession will absolve my Justice.   IR. 

Bring some water here, she does but swoon:  
So chafe her Temples,— Oh Heavens! what prodigy  
Is here! her blackness falls away: My Lord, look on  
This Miracle, doth not Heaven instruct us in pity  
Of her wrongs, that the opinions which prejudice  
Her virtue, should thus be washed away with the  
Black clouds that hide her purer form?   HER. 

Heaven hath some further ends in this  
Than we can pierce: More water, she returns to life,  
And all the blackness of her face is gone.   IR. 

PALLAS, APOLLO, what may this portend? My Lord,  
Have you not seen a face like this?   LY. 

Yes, and horror seizeth me: 'Tis the Idea  
Of my Milesia. Impenetrable powers,  
Deliver us in Thunder your intents,  
And exposition of this Metamorphosis.   HER. 

She stirs.   LY. 

Hold her up gently— He kneels.   MOO. 

Oh, oh; why do you kneel to me:   LY, 

Are not you MILESIA?   MOO. 

Why do you ask?   LY. 

Oh then you are.   MOO. 

My Lysicles, I am by miracle preserved,  
Though since the gods repent them of their succours.  
Knowing me unworthy of thy firm constant love:  
I never thought that death could be a terror  
Too long acquainted with the miseries  
Pursue our lives, but now the apprehension  
My grave should swallow thee, makes me to welcome it  
With a heaviness that sinks despairing sinners.   LY. 

Pour down your Thunder gods, upon this head,   

And try if that can make me yet more wretched:  
Was not her death affliction enough,  
But you must make me be the murderer?  
Is this a punishment for adoring her  
Equal with you, you made so equal to ye?  
Pardon the fault you forced me to commit:  
So visible a Divinity could not be looked on  
With less adoration.   MOO. 

If e'er I did expect a happier death,  
May I die loathed: what Funeral pomp  
Can there be greater, than for me to hear  
Whilst I yet live, my dying Obsequies  
With so much zeal pronounced by him I love?  
Tortures again do seize me.   LY. 

Eyes, are you dry where such an object calls  
Your tears forth— My blood shall supply your place.   MO. 

For heaven's sake hold his hands: O my best Lysicles,  
Do not destroy the comforts of my soul;  
What a division do I feel within me!  
I am but half tormented, my soul in spite  
O'th' tortures of my body, do feel a joy  
That meets departed spirits in the blessed shades—   LY. 

What unexpected mischiefs circle me,  
What Arts hath malice, armed with Fortune, found  
To make me wretched? could I e'er have thought  
A Miracle could have restored thee to my eyes,  
But they should see the joys of Heaven in thee?  
Yet now the height of my affliction is,  
That they behold thee guilty of the close  
Of thine for ever: see HERMIONE,  
The countenance Death should put on, when Death  
Would have us throng unto her Palaces,  
And court her frozen Sepulchres.   IR. 

Sure she is dead: how pale she is!   LY. 

No: she is white as Lilies, as the Snow  
That falls upon PARNASSUS; if the Red were here,  
As I have seen't enthroned, the rising day  
Would get new excellence by being compared to her:  
ARGOS, nor CYPRUS, Egypt never saw  
A beauty like to this; let it be lawful for me to usurp  
So much on Death's right, as to take a kiss  
From thy cold Virgin-lips, where she and Love  
Yet strive for Empire: the flames that rise from hence,  
Are not less violent, though less pleasing now,  
Than when she did consent I should receive  
What now I ravish.   MO. 

Dares not Death shut those eyes where love  
Hath entered once, or am I in the shades  
Assisted with the Ghost of my dear Lysicles?   LY. 

She speaks again: good Heaven, she speaks again!   HE. 

You are yet living.   MO. 

And therefore dying, but before I go   

Let me obtain your pardon for the wrongs  
My jealousy hath thrown upon your innocence.  
'T was my too perfect knowledge of my want  
Of merits to deserve, made me doubt yours:  
I mean your constant love, which I will teach  
Below, and make them learn again to love,  
Who have died for it.   LY. 

Do not abuse your mercy and my grief,  
By asking pardon of your murderer,  
But curse your sufferings off, on this devoted head,  
To save the beauty of the world in you.   MO. 

Why should your grief make me repent the joys  
I ever begged of heaven? the knowledge  
Of your love, could there be added more  
Unto my happiness, than to be confirmed  
By my own sufferings how much you did love me,  
And prosecuted those that desired my ruin?  
Like Semele I die, who could not take  
The full god in her arms.  
I have but one wish more, that I may bear  
Unto the shades the glorious title of your wife:  
If I may live so long to hear but this  
Pronounced by Lysicles, I die in peace.   LY. 

Hear it with my vows, not to behold  
The Sun rise after you are gone.   MO. 

O say not so, live, I command you live;  
Let your obedience unto this command,  
Show you have lost a Mistress.   LY. 

Can I hear this, and live?   IR. 

My Lord, our cares will be employed better,  
In seeking to avert this lady's death,  
Than in deploring it.   LY. 

You advise well: run all to the Physician:  
I Will myself to Arnaldo, who gave  
This poison to me. Let me have word sent to the  
Cypress grove, the minute she is dead.   Exeunt. Draw in the bed. Enter Lysicles meditating. LY. 

If Life be given as a blessing to us,  
What Law compels us to preserve it longer,  
Than we can see a possibility  
Of being happy by it? But we must expect  
Till the same power that placed us here, commands  
A restitution of his gift: This is indeed a rule  
To make us live, but not live happily.  
'Tis true, the slave that frees himself by death  
Doth wrong his Master: but yet the gods are not  
Necessitous of us, but we of them.  
Who then is injured if I kill myself?  
And if I durst to hear their voice, they call  
Men to some other place, when they remove  
The gust, and taste of this, we should adore thee death,  
If constant virtue, not enforcement built  
Thy spacious Temples.   Enter EUGENIO. 

Welcome Eugenio, welcome worthy friend,  
How long are you arrived?   Eu. 

Time enough to revenge, though not prevent  
The injuries you have done me.   LY. 

What means my friend?   Eu. 

I must not hear that name now, you have lost  
The effects and virtue of it: I come to punish  
Your breach of faith.   LY. 

Is Hell afeard my constancy should conquer  
The mischiefs that are raised to swallow me,  
That it invents new plagues to batter me?  
By all that's holy, I never did offend my friend,  
Not in a thought.   Eu. 

Those that by breach of vows provoke their justice,  
Do seldom fear profaning of their names,  
To hide their perjuries will put it on them.  
You have attempted my Hermione,  
And forced her father to compel her voice  
Unto your Marriage.   LY. 

All this I do confess; but 'twas for both your goods,  
As I will now inform you.   Eu. 

Hell and furies: because your specious titles,  
Your spreading Vineyards, and your guilded house  
Do shine upon our Cottage, must our faiths,  
Which Heaven did seal, be canceled; 'twas my virtue  
Won her fair graces, which still outshine  
Your flames of vice.   LY. 

It hath not light enough to let you see your friend.  
Gods! Could that man have lived, that dared to say,  
Eugenio did suspect his Lysicles?  
And now in pity you do show him me,  
That I may fly the world without regreet,  
Not leaving one of worth behind me in it.  
begone, and learn your errors.   Eu. 

I have done't already: they were trusting you  
With my life's happiness: draw, and restore the vows  
You made Hermione, or I will leave you dead,  
And tear them from your heart.   LY. 

Fond man, thou dost not know how much 'tis in  
My power to make thee miserable:  
I could now force thee execute my wish  
In killing me; and thou wouldst fly the light,  
When it had showed thee whom thy rage offended:  
But till I fall by my own hand, my life  
Is chained unto my honour, which I will wear  
Upon my Sepulchre: nor must I die,  
Being guilty of Milesia's murder,  
For any cause but hers, else were my breast,  
Since you have wronged me, open to your point.   Eu. 

Can you deny but that you have attempted  
The faith of my Hermione?   LY. 

I can, with so strong circumstance of truth  
Would make you blush for have doubted mine;  
But he that was my friend, and suspects me,  
Must attend less satisfaction than a stranger.  
Proceed, and let your case be both your judge and guide.   Eu. 

What should I do? I dare not trust my sense,  
If he should tell me that it does deceive me:  
Virtue itself would lose her quality  
ere he forsook her, and his words do fall  
Distorted from him; his soul doth labour  
Under some heavy burden, which my passion  
Did hinder me from seeing. Sir forgive,  
Or take your full revenge; let your own griefs  
Teach you to pity those are distracted with it:  
I will not rise until you pardon me.   LY. 

Oh my Eugenio, thy kindness hath undone me,  
My rage did choke my grief, which now did spread  
itself over my soul and body: up, and help  
To bear me till I fall eternally.   Eu. 

Who can hear this, and not be turned to Marble?  
Good Sir impart your sorrows, I may bring comfort.   LY. 

Whilst they were capable thou didst, but now  
They are too great and swollen to let it in.  
Milesia, Whom you and I supposed dead,  
By me today is poisoned, and lies dying in her torment;  
Is not this strange?   Eu. 

What have you said that is not?  
But heaven avert this last.   LY. 

It is too late now; let me beg thy kindness  
Would do that for me, I forbade thy passion.   Eu. 

What is't?   LY. 

Kill me.   Eu. 

You cannot wish me such an hated office:  
Call up your reasons and your courage to you,  
Which was not given you only for the wars,  
But to resist the batteries of Fortune.  
People will say, that Lysicles did want  
Part of that courage Fame did speak him Lord of,  
When they shall hear him sunk below her succour.   LY. 

You will not kill me then?   Eu. 

When I believe there is no other means to ease you,  
I will do't.   LY. 

All but death are fled.   Eu. 

Then draw your sword, and as I lift my arm  
To sheathe this in your breast, let yours pierce me,  
On this condition I may do your will.   LY. 

I may not for the world: why should you die?   Eu. 

See how your passions blind you; is Death  
An ease or torment? if it be a joy,  
Why should you envy it your dearest friend?   LY. 

Our causes are not equal.   Eu. 

They will be when you are dead: How you mistake  
The Laws of Friendship and commit those faults  
You did accuse me of! I would not live so long  
To think you can survive your dying friend.   LY. 

Eugenio I am conquered, yet I hope thy kindness  
Will do that for me, which thy sword refuseth:  
Love thy Hermione, she deserves it friend:  
Leave me alone a while.   Eu. 

Your grief's too great for me to trust your life with't:  
I dare not venture you beyond my help.  
Within. Where's Prince Lysicles? where's Prince Lysicles?   LY. 

Hark, I am called, the fatal news is come.   Draws. Eu. 

Fie; how unmanly's this? Can sounds affright you,  
Which yet you know not whether they do bring  
Or joys, or sorrows? when remedies are despaired of,  
You have still leave to die; perhaps she lives,  
And you'll exhale her soul into your wounds,  
And be the death of her you mourn for living.  
Within. Where's Prince Lysicles? where's Prince Lysicles?   Eu. 

It is the voice of comfort, none would strive  
To be a sad relator; I'll call him, holla, here he is.   Enter a Servant. SER. 

The strange Lady kisses your hands, my Lord: Arnaldo  
Has restored her; she bade me say, your sight can only  
Give perfection to what he has begun.   Eu. 

Will you die now?   LY. 

Softly, good friend, gently let it slide  
Into my breast; my hearts too narrow yet  
To take so full a joy in: You're sure this news is true?   SER. 

On my Life.   Eu. 

Why should you doubt it?   LY. 

My comforts ever were like Winter Suns,  
That rise late, and set betimes, set with thick Clouds  
That hide their light at noon: but be this true,  
And I have life enough to let me see it:  
I shall be ever happy.   Eu. 

So, 'tis well, at length his hope hath taught despair to fear.   Exeunt. Enter Milesia, Hermione, Irene, Physician. PHY. 

Madam, my innocence will plead my pardon; I could  
Not guess for whom my Lord intended it; the truth is,  
I feared, considering his deep melancholy, he  
Intended to use it on himself, and therefore meant to  
Make him out of love with death, by suffering the pains  
Our souls do feel when they are violenced from us.  
I had provided Antidotes, but could not, till this hour,  
Learn on whom it was employed: sure I was, it could  
Be death to none, though full of torment.   MI. 

Till I have farther means, thank you; receive this ring.   HE. 

But Madam, what did your poor Hermione deserve,  
That you should hide yourself from her?  
Or are you the Milesia that were pleased  
To call me friend? or is she buried  
By Pallas Temple? truly belief and memory  
Opposing sense, makes doubt which to credit:  
I wept you dead, the Virgins did entomb you:  
Were we then or no deceived?   MI. 

My fair dear friend, you shall know all my story.  
'tis true, my Uncle did design my death  
For loving Lysicles, for at his coming hither  
He charged me by all ties that were between us,  
To hate him as the ruin of his honour,  
And yet for some dark ends I understood not,  
Resolved to leave me here. I swore obedience,  
But knew not what offence it was to keep  
An oath so made, till I had seen the Lysicles,  
Which at your house I did; when he came wounded  
From hunting of the Boar, all but his name  
Appeared most godlike to me; you all did run  
To stop his wounds, and I thought I might see  
My enemy's blood; yet soon did pity cease me  
To see him bleed: thus, love taking the shape  
Of pity, glided unseen of me into my heart,  
And whilst I thought myself but charitable,  
I nursed my infant love with milk of pity  
Till he grew strong enough to take me prisoner.  
I found his eyes on mine, and ere I could  
Remove them, heard him say, he'd thank his fortune  
For this last wound: if 'twere the cause  
Of seeing me; then took his leave,  
But left me speechless that I could not say,  
My heart farewell: after this visit our loves  
Grew to that height that you have heard of.   HER. 

The Groves, and Temples, and dark shade have heard  
Them mourned, and celebrated by your friend.   MI. 

I had a servant unsuspected of me,  
For none I trusted that observed our meetings,  
And guessing by my sighs that love had made them,  
Betrayed them to my Uncle; on PALLAS Eve  
He rushed into my Chamber, his sword drawn,  
And snatched me by the arm: I fell down,  
But knowing yet no fault, could beg no pardon.  
A while our eyes did only speak our thoughts;  
At length out of his bosom he pulled out  
A paper, 'twas the contract twixt my Lord and me:  
And asked me if I would avow the hand.  
Heaven said I, has approved it, and the gods  
Have chose this way to reunite our houses;  
Stain of thy kindred's honour, he exclaims:  
Was there no other man to ease your lust  
But he that was our greatest enemy.  
Resolve to die, thy blood shall hide the stains  
Of our dishonour.   HER. 

He could not be so cruel to intend it.   MI. 

He was: for leaving me oppressed with sighs  
And tears; yet not of sorrow and repentance,  
But fear that I should lose my dearest servant,  
Commands his cruel slaves to murder me  
As I descended: and lest pity should  
Create remorse in their obdurate hearts,  
The lights were all put out: then hastily  
My name was heard; I then entreated her  
That betrayed me, tell them I was coming,  
And took this time to write unto my Lord:  
She went, but by the way was ceased,  
And strangled by those murderers  
That expected me. My Uncle heard  
Her latest groans; and now the act was passed,  
His power to help, he wished it were undone:  
Brings lights to see the body, and perceived  
The strange mistake: by signs and lifted eyes  
Confessed heaven's hand was in't; yet would not leave  
His revenge here, commands his slaves to change  
My clothes with hers was slain; then takes the head off,  
And on the Trunk did leave a note, which told  
My death for loving LYSICLES, in hope my ruin:  
Knowing his noble nature would be his.  
At midnight quits this Town, leaving none behind  
Were conscious of the fact, immures me in his house  
Till I escaped in that disguise I wore,  
When I first came to you.   IR. 

Why did you not declare yourself when you came hither?   MI. 

You were the cause on't: at my arrival here,  
I heard my LYSICLES should marry you,  
And therefore kept the habit I was in,  
To search unknown the truth of this report,  
And practised in the private actions of some near friends,  
Got an opinion I could presage  
The future: thus was I sought by you,  
Thus found the faith of my dear LYSICLES,  
When at the Tomb I did appear his ghost,  
And had revealed myself, had not the shame  
Of doubting such a faith, kept my desires in.   HER. 

Then he dissembled when he made love to me?   MI. 

He did: forgive it him, 'twas for his friend.   HER. 

I am sorry for it.   MI. 

How my dear friend?   HER. 

Nay, it is true,   Enter LYSICLES. & EUGENIO. 

EUGENIO and he are of such equal tempers,  
I shall suspect he has dissembled too.   MI. 

Oh you are pleasant;  
Here comes my Lord.   LY. 

Is there a wish beyond this happiness,  
When I embrace thee thus? I will not ask  
Thy Story now, it is enough to know  
That you are living.   MI. 

The gods have made this trial in my sufferings,  
If I deserved so great a blessing:  
I have but one grief left.   LY. 

Is that word yet not earth?   MI. 

Yes, but it springs from an excessive joy  
Of finding such admired worth in you.  
What I hereafter shall do in your service,  
Must wear the name of Gratitude, not Love.   LY. 

No my MILESIA,  
Mine was the first engagement, and the gods  
Made thee so excellent to keep on earth  
Love that was flying hence, finding no object  
Worthy to fix him here.   HER. 

No more EUGENIO, if your words could add  
Expressions to your love, you had not had  
So much of mine; and after I have tried  
Your faith so many ways, it would appear  
Ingratitude not modesty to show a Mistress coldness.   EU. 

May I believe, all advantageous words,  
Or may I doubt them, seeing they come from you  
Who are all truth? I will not speak  
How undeserving I am of these favours,  
Because I will not wrong the Election  
Your gracious pity forceth on your judgement.   LY. 

Our joys do multiply; but my dear friend,  
I have yet something that will add to yours:  
My Father's called to Court, and you are left  
Governor in his place; this (I know) will make  
Lord PINDARUS consent to both your wishes,  
Your pardon Madam, and when you lie embraced  
With your EUGENIO, tell him, if my faith  
Had not the double tie of Friend and Mistress.  
A single one had yielded to the hopes   Enter 

Of the enjoying you: Here comes my Lord— PINDARUS.  
Oh my good Lord, I must entreat your pardon  
For a fault my love unto my friend engaged me in:  
Let your consent complete the happiness  
Of these two perfect Lovers; I am confident  
You ever did approve his virtue: his fortune now  
Can be no hindrance, since our gracious King  
In contemplation of his merits,  
Hath made him Governor in my Father's place.   PIND. 

Most willingly I give it, since I have lost  
The hopes of being allied to you,  
Heaven bless you both.  
Sir, your own love of my HERMIONE,  
And yours now, will teach you to admit  
An easy satisfaction for the troubles  
My love unto my Child hath thrown upon you.   EU. 

You are all goodness, and my services  
Ever directed by your will, shall show,  
Though I can never merit this great honour,  
I will do nothing shall deprive me of  
The honour of your love and favour.   PIND. 

Your virtue promiseth more than I may hear  
From you: once more Heaven bless you.  
If my Lord ERGASTO now were satisfied,  
I shall be at peace; for having promised  
My Daughter to him, I would not have him  
Think that by me he's injured.   HER. 

'Tis in your power Sir, to satisfy him.   PIND. 

I would do any thing.   HER. 

Persuade my cousin to confess she loves him,  
Which I do know she does, and he already  
Has made profession of his, unto my prejudice:  
Nay blush not cousin, since you would not allow me  
This secret as a friend, you may excuse  
The inquisitive of a rival.   MI. 

This is all truth my Lord, I can assure you.   PIND. 

Is't possible, IRENE, do you love ERGASTO?   IR. 

methinks your experience, Uncle, should teach you,  
That such a question was not to be asked:  
Well, if I did love him, 'twas because I thought  
That he loved me; but if he does not, I pardon him:  
For I am certain he once believed it himself.   PIND. 

If ever love make any deep impression  
In you, I am deceived.   IR. 

His Dart may strike as far into me  
As into another for ought you know Uncle.   PIND. 

You have ill luck else Niece.   Enter PHORMIO, ERGASTO, CLEON. PHO. 

Nay, 'tis most certain the Town is full of it:  
MILESIA, I know not how, is alive again:  
EUGENIO is made Governor; though you were constant,  
You can have no longer hopes of HERMIONE:  
Therefore let me advise you, make that seem  
Your own Election, which will else be Enforcement:  
Quit your Interest in HERMIONE, and renew  
Your suit to IRENE.   ER. 

Observe me.   PIND. 

Welcome my Lords, do you know this Lady?   ER. 

Most perfectly, and came to congratulate  
With the Prince, for her double recovery.   LY. 

I thank you my Lord, and when my friend and you  
Are reconciled, you may assure yourself  
I am your servant.   ER. 

What's in my power to give him satisfaction:  
He may command.   Eu. 

Your friendship does it.   PIN. 

my Lord, this reconcilement will make way unto my  
Pardon, I have not been wanting in my promise  
To you; but my daughter thinks she has chosen  
So well, that without any leave, she hath made her  
Self, her own disposer.   ER. 

Ages of happiness attend them: If I may hope to  
Gain the graces of the fair IRENE, I shall be happy too.   PIN. 

If I have any power, she shall be yours.   LY. 

Let me beg the honour of interceding: your fortunes  
And condition are so equal, it were a sin to part you.   PH. 

Pray Sir, let him do it himself: the task is not  
So hard, to require a Mediator.   IR. 

Have you such skill in perspective?   PH. 

As good as any chiromancer's in Egypt Madam.   ER. 

He has reason, for I have opened my breast to him,  
And he has seen my heart, and you enthroned in't.   PH. 

He tells you true Lady.   IR. 

Indeed Sir: and pray what did it look like?   PH. 

Faith to deal truly, much like the wheel of Fortune,  
Which turning round, puts the same persons  
Sometimes at top, sometimes at bottom: but at last  
Love shot his dart through the axletree,  
And fixed you Regent.   IR. 

Well, I have considered, and my cousin's  
Example shall teach me.   ER. 

What in the name of doubt?   IR. 

To avoid the infinite troubles you procured her by your  
Fruitless solicitations: d''ee think your tears shall cost  
Me so many tears, as they have done her?   PIN. 

You may excuse them by consenting  
To your friends desires.   MI. 

Sweet Madam, let me obtain this for him:  
He dies if you deny him.   HER. 

Dear IRENE, perfect the happiness of this day.   IR. 

You have great reason to persuade me  
To take him you abhorred.   HER. 

I was engaged.   IR. 

Well, if any here will pass their words  
He can continue constant a week, I will  
Be disposed by you.   OMNES. 

We all will be engaged for him.   IR. 

On this condition I admit him to a month's service,  
And myself to a perpetual servitude.   ER. 

I ever shall be yours.   IR. 

My father said so, till my mother wept.   Eu. 

A notable wooing this.   LY. 

And as notably finished.  
Let's now unto my father,  
Who expects you to deliver his Commission to you.  
Come my MILESIA, tell my wounded heart  
No more, her sighs shall wander through the air  
Not knowing where to find thee: nor no more  
Shall the mistaken Tomb of false ONONE  
Be moistened with my tears; yet since she died  
To save thy life, her ghost could not expect  
A cheaper sacrifice: this I'll only add  
In memory of us, All Lovers shall  
Repute this day, as their great Festival.    
FINIS.