THE ROYAL MASTER; As it was Acted in the new Theater in Dublin: AND Before the Right Honourable the Lord Deputy of Ireland, in the Castle.  
Written by JAMES SHIRLEY.  
— Fas extera quaerere rigna.  
LONDON, 〈…〉   

To the Right Honourable, GEORGE Earl of Kildare, Baron of Ophalie, and premier Earl of the Kingdom of Ireland.  
My Lord,  
IT was my happiness being a stranger in this kingdom, to kiss your Lordship's hands, to which your nobleness, and my own ambition encouraged me, nor was it without justice to your name, to tender the first fruits of my observance to your Lordship, whom this Island acknowledgeth her first native Ornament and top branch of Honour. Be pleased now my most honourable Lord, since my Affairs in England hasten my departure, and prevent my personal attendance, that something of me may be honoured to wait upon you in my absence, this Poem; 'tis new, and never yet personated, but expected with the first, when the English Stage shall be recovered from her long silence, and her now languishing scene changed into a welcome return of wits and men; And when by the favour of the winds and Sea, I salute my Country again, I shall report a story of the Irish honour, and hold myself not meanly fortunate to have been written and received  
The humblest of your Lordship's servants. JAMES SHIRLEY.   

To my Ingenious Friend, James Shirley, upon his Royal Master.  
AS a rich gem enchased in gold affords  
More radiant lustre to the gazer's eye  
Imprisoned so, within itself it hoards  
Up all the beamy treasures of the sky,  
Beams loose reflex on bodies diaphane  
But cast on solids they rebound again,  
So would thy lines my Friend in paper pent  
Contract the whole applauses of the age,  
But should they a neglected ornament  
Be solely made the study of the Stage,  
They might like water in the Sunshine set  
Retain his image, not impart his heat.  
Then Print thy Poem Shirley, 'twere a fault  
To dungeon this instructive piece of thine,  
Had the sun's Sphere been made a thick ribbed vault,  
We had received no influence from his shine;  
Thou shouldst die traitor to succeeding times,  
And thy best virtues prove but splendid crimes.  JAMES MERVYN.  

On Mr. James Shirley's Royal Master.  
Such curious eyes as in a Poem look  
For the most part, do find the printed book  
With verses frontispieced, to show their wit  
In praise of the authors which occasions it,  
And I have seen some pieces, that have stood  
In need of witnesses to prove them good.  
This poet's skill is here so clearly shown  
In offering light to his they dim their own,  
For all that with unsquinted eyes shall see  
This well limbed pecce of polished poesy,  
In justice to themselves must needs confess  
Friends cannot add, nor envy make it less.  FRA. butler.  

Upon Mr. James Shirley his Comedy, called The Royal Master.  
WHen Spencer reigned sole Prince of Poets here,  
As by his Fairy Queen doth well appear  
There was not one so blind, so bold a Bard,  
So ignorantly proud or foolish-hard  
To encounter his sweet Muse; for Phoebus vowed  
A sharp: revenge on him should be so proud;  
And when my Shirley from the Albion shore  
Comes laden with the Muses, all their store  
transfers to Dublin, full Parnassus brings,  
And all the riches of Castalian Springs;  
Shall we not welcome him with our just votes?  
And shall we do't with harsh and envious notes?  
No no, Thalia, Envy shall not sit  
So high above our judgement, and our wit,  
As not to give just merit his due praise,  
And crown thy Poet with deserved bays.  
Shirley stand forth, and put thy Laurel on,  
Phoebus next heir, now Ben is dead and gone,  
Truly legitimate, Ireland is so just  
To say, you rise the Phoenix of his dust,  
And since thy Royal Master won so much  
On each judicious and hath stood the touch,  
'tis fit he should more than private, when  
He wears two Crowns, their votes, and thy smooth pen.  DRV. COOPER.  

On the Royal Master, to his Friend the Author.  
SMooth and unsullied lines, keep on your way,  
From envies Jostle free, a clear eyed day  
Smiles on your triumph; only thus to blame,  
Too lavish is your sacrifice to fame.  
Less of such perfume, to succeeding age,  
The dead would sweeten, and embalm the Stage;  
Here is a pile of incense, every line  
Heaps on fresh Narde, your Muse cannot decline  
To intermissions, some leave hills, by turns  
Flame, and expire his Aetna ever burns.  RIC. BELLING.  

To my deserving Friend Mr. James Shirley on his Royal Master.  
I Like some petty Brook scarce worth a name,  
Must yet pay tribute to thy full-streamed fame,  
But I'll not strive, (as men sometimes) to raise  
An uncouth structure to thy merits praise  
From others' ruins, thy just mind will scorn  
To own Encomiums so basely borne.  
Therefore I write, what may become my free  
Acknowledgement, and fit thy modesty.  
Thy Muse I honoured, ere I knew by sight  
Thy person; oft I've seen with much delight  
Thy sweet composures: but this last; and new  
Smooth piece (which here hath graced the public view)  
claims more regard; I give to all the rest  
Their fair desert, but rank this with thy best.  T. I.  

To his much esteemed Friend Mr. James Shirley, on his Royal Master.  
YOu who the readers are of the choice wit,  
And have the leading voice in censuring it,  
Whose votes Grand jurors are, and only have  
The well known power either to kill or save,  
Give this a noble greeting and its due,  
May Phoebus else, withdraw his beams from you.  
My worthy Friend, this Play o'th' public Stage  
Hath gained such fair applause, as 't did engage  
A nation to thy Muse, where thou shalt reign  
Vicegerent to Apollo, who doth deign  
(His darling Ben deceased) thou shouldst be  
Declared the heir apparent to his tree.  W. MARKHAM.  

To the Honoured Author of the Royal Master.  
Dear Friend I joy my love hath found the means  
To wait upon, and vindicate thy scenes  
From some few scruples of the weaker sex,  
Whose nicer thoughts their female minds perplex.  
(For man he sinks if he but censure, none  
Dare deprave king's Inauguration)  
Say they, what makes the King in his dispose  
So Icy-temperd, as he frankly throws  
Freedom on all except himself? contrives.  
The way for other men to purchase wives?  
Takes joy to forward propagation,  
By Nuptial knot, yet to himself ties none?  
Pretty poor fools, and Virgins! how you're kind  
(Vulgar like) are in apprehension blind;  
Come read, you'll see when you this piece peruse  
The Royal Master's Spouse is Shirley's Muse;  
Why then to him, and her, an altar raise,  
Tapers are set, flaming with equal praise  
See, see, his Genius gracefully doth bend  
To the just vote of every loving friend;  
The elevated Circle is upheld  
Betwixt the binal Cherubs palms, beheld  
By all judicious eyes; the heart, the voice  
Of all ingenious do applaud the choice  
Of your great Royal Master, say, they've found  
Two Monarchs with one glorious Laurel crowned.  W. SMITH.  

To his worthy Friend the Author.  
ALL these thy friends subscribing to thy praise  
And fair deservings, have done well, 'twill raise  
Opinion in the readers, and engage  
Them to peruse, what we saw on the Stage.  
If knowing ones, their judgement thus will be  
The Commondation's short, the Comedy  
Speaks better for itself, more home; but yet  
My vote must go, I say no purer wit  
Did ever grace the scene, nay 'it hath in't  
Expressions of so new, and rich a Mint,  
That the old Poets well might wish the name  
Of this new Play were added to their fame.  JOHN OGLEBY OGLEBYE.  

To the much honoured, James Shirley upon his Royal Master.  
LEt no man think, I hither coldly came  
On purpose to commend, or to seek fame  
By this impression, that world may say,  
What is this jackson that commends the play?  
Though 'tis a grace, to stand as Courtiers use  
To usher in the reader to thy Muse,  
Yet by the way, I'll tell him I have read  
The Laws of Flaccus with a serious head,  
And that according to those statutes there  
(Never to be repealed) thy Poems are,  
Thy discreet style is elegantly plain,  
In Sock and Buskin, proper to each vein  
Of Time, Place, Person, and that all thy wit  
Is not by chance but regularly writ;  
Nor dost thou gall the Theater, we may  
Be acted every man, yet see thy play  
Invisible, so curious is thy Pen  
Which can at once, would heal, and better men,  
Therefore will I hereafter cease to mourn  
For those great wits, commended to the Urn,  
And if't be true, that transmigrations be  
They are in Shirley all, for aught I see.  JOHN JACSON.  

On M. James Shirley his Royal Master.  
THere are some men do hold, there is a place  
Called Limbus Patrum if such have the grace  
To wave that Schism, and Poetarum said  
They of that saith had me a member made,  
That Limbus I could have believed thy brain  
Where Beaumont, Fletcher, Shakespeare, & a train  
Of glorious Poets in their active heat  
Move in that Orb, as in their former seat.  
When thou began'st to give thy Master life,  
methought I saw them all, with friendly strife  
Each casting in his dose, Beaumont his weight,  
Shakespeare his mirth, and Fletcher his conceit,  
With many more ingredients, with thy skill  
So sweetly tempered, that the envious quill  
And tongue of Criticks must both write and say,  
They never yet beheld a smoother Play.  JAMES MERVYN.  


THE FIRST ACT.  Enter King of Naples, the Duke of Florence, Montalto, Octavio, Riviero, Andrugio, Guido, Aloigio, Alexio. Duke 
Y'are great in all that's good.  King 
You show the bounty  
Of your opinion; my extent in all things  
Is but to bid you welcome; you had a sister,  
The envy of the Angels whilst she lived  
Our Queen, now made their blessed companion;  
Should we exempt those fair deserts dwell in you,  
So much we owe her memory.  Duke 
Pray no more.  Rivi. 
We must not be too open, truest friend,  
Thy bosom is my Sanctuary.  Andr. 
When it leaves  
To be Religious for thy safety, may it  
By an angry flame from heaven, be turned to ashes.  Duke 
Your nature is too soft; let not the mention  
Of her that was my sister, and you Queen  
Beget another sigh; she was long since blessed;  
Cesaria is in heaven; we are met for joys;  
You were not framed to be her Monument;  
Sleep let her ashes in the urn, contains 'em.  King. 
I ha' done.  Enter Theodosia, Ladies. , 
Your sister.  King. 
Is all the treasure  
Is left me sir, but cannot be too rich  
For your acceptance.  Duke. 
All my wealth is summed  
When she does smile upon me, and her Character  
In the full glory, when she's named your sister;  
Are you not weary of a guest dear Madam?  
Am I still welcome?  Theo. 
Sir we are  
All honoured in your presence; and though not high  
To your merit, yet your entertainment is,  
As full of love, as nature can express  
To a twin brother, more I dare presume,  
You shall accuse yourself, if you be less,  
A Prince in Naples by free use of power,  
Than your own Florence.  Duke. 
Madam you must be  
Less fair, and powerful in tongue, if you  
Expect I should be still a Prince; and yet  
My ambition will be high, and glorious  
Enough to be received your grace's servant;  
For whom I should account my age no travel,  
To have my pilgrimage rewarded with  
Your fair eyes Madam, able to create  
Another life and spirit in old Nature.  King. 
How does Montalto like the Duke?  Montal. 
Sir, Naples cannot study an addition  
Of fame, beyond what this alliance will  
Deserve in future story; the excess  
Of what is good, nay excellent in him  
would stock a barren Province.  King. 
'tis our happiness.  Monta. 
But 'tis not mine; for though I thus disguise  
My face, and tongue, my heart is my own friend,  
And cannot wish my ambition supplanted  
By any smooth chined Prince alive; my Lords—  Andr. 
Look how they flock, and fawn upon his greatness;  
These are his creatures, by his power placed  
So near about the King, he can hear nothing  
Of his great favourite, but what their flattery  
And partial tongues convey into his ear.  Rivi. 
Pity so sweet a nature as the Kings  
Should be abused by Parasites; but I may  
In time dissolve these court mists, that so long  
Have hung upon't, and render the king's eyes  
Free to distinguish objects, if there be  
No witchcraft exercised upon his senses.  1 lady. 
My Lord you are very pleasant.  Octav. 
Is it not  
Becoming the discretion of a young  
Courtier to observe times and methods; and when Madam  
Are you for this match?  1 Lady. 
What my Lord?  Octav. 
You would not  
Be sad at heart, to sleep with such a bedfellow  
As the Duke is?  2 Lady. 
How my Lord?  Octav. 
Provided  
Matrimony were not far off; yet without it  
There are some Ladies, would excuse their modesty,  
And meet and think their fate at all adventures,  
If no worse man would make their husband of  
The honourable order of the nightcap.  1 Lady. 
When will you marry my Lord?  Octav. 
I am young;  
Yet when I am ripe to grapple with a maidenhead,  
The Lord Montalto the great Court Patron  
Will help me to a wife.  2 Lady. 
You are bound to his Lordship.  Octav. 
And so I am Madam, if you knew all;  
I have many obligations to his honour,  
But there is one writ here, whose memory  
Will keep my soul awake.  King. 
Andrugio—  Guido. 
I do not like their conference.  Mont. 
'Las he has no employment in the state;  
He waits like a dull cipher and I have  
My spies upon him; if I find him busy,  
My power with the king shall soon transplant him,  
Or force him like Riviero his old friend,  
But of more brain and faction, to give up  
His ghost abroad.  Aloi. 
'Twas just for your own safety.  Monta. 
This is an honest easy Nobleman,  
Allowed to wear some Court formality;  
Walk on the tarres, pick his teeth, and stroke  
Upon a festival some golden sentence  
Out of his beard, for which the guard admire him,  
And cry him up a Statesman; he's sent off  
When he is troublesome to a phlegmatic clime  
A dull Ambassador; no, that Duke, Guido,  
Is all my fear, but I have contrived something  
May rectify my fate.  Duk. 
How much you honour me;  
But you might spare all other entertainments  
And bravery of Court; they may affect  
My eyes with wonder, and oblige my just  
Acknowledgement, but all their glory's met  
Into one height, hold no proportion  
To inflame my heart, or more express my welcome  
Then this your free grace Madam, and those hopes  
That bless my imagination from your favour.  Theo. 
I am but what my brother's love, and virtue  
Will make me; but there's nothing that can move  
With his consent, I sha'not flee to obey.  Mont. 
I had rather feed upon his heart;  
You promised Sir the Duke to hunt this morning.  King. 
I had forgot; will you be pleased to try  
The pleasures of a Forest.  Duke. 
I'll attend.  King. 
Theodosia, you are not for that exercise Guido.  whispers and sends Guido off. Theo. 
I wish all pleasures wait upon you;  
My heart must covet your return.  Duke. 
And mine,  
To dwell for ever in so fair a bosom.  King. 
To horse; the morning wastes.  Mon. 
Some policy  
Must cure this fear; my bold resolves are fixed;  
I have made some attempts, and courted her,  
But she has not understood me; I must work  
By countermine and scatter into air  
His swelling hopes: Octavio—  Exit. Octav. 
My good Lord.  Andr. 
Sir I present this Gentleman to kiss  
Your hand; he's the Duke's secretary, a Roman  
Borne, and has a great ambition  
To be known to you for your father's sake,  
With whom he did converse in Rome, and honour,  
Till death concluded their acquaintance.  Octav. 
Sir,  
Your love, and knowledge of my father will  
Deserve you should be welcome to his son.  Rivi. 
He made me his companion many years;  
No brothers were more chained in their affections.  
He did impart much of his bosom to me.  Octav. 
You knew why he left Naples?  Rivi. 
He did trust me, with the cause my Lord, and every circumstance  
The king's minority, and Montalto's power,  
'gainst which no innocent could plead in Naples.  Andr. 
Not too loud Sir; you may be heard.  Rivi. 
Your pardon.  Octav. 
Why should truth  
Faint at the name of greatness? this Colossus  
Montalto is but mortal sure; time has  
Forgot to use his wings, or nature is  
Unwilling I should grow to write full man,  
To take revenge upon that politician,  
Our Protean favourite.  Rivi. 
It is my wonder  
The King so strangely should continue this  
Affection to Montalto.  Octav. 
There's some magic in 't.  Rivi. 
Dare none complain.  Andr. 
His engines are so placed  
None can approach the king's ear, at which hang  
So many flatterers to infect it with  
Montalto's praise.  Rivi. 
Pray give me sir this boldness;  
He that doth lift an Axe to strike the root  
Of any family, cannot be without  
A thought to wound the branches; you were left.  
By computation, but an Infant when  
Your father's discontents, and faction of  
This Montalto made him forsake Naples,  
Which added to your mother's death, the guard  
And comforts of your life, were taken from you;  
Having expressed this malice to your father,  
A thousand ways he might have sent you to  
Another world, and taken off all fear  
Of a revenge; how comes it that you live,  
And visit Sir the Palace with this freedom?  Octav. 
My Lord Andrugio's knowledge of yon Sir  
Is my assurance of your faith.  Andr. 
I'll give  
You reasons at some opportunity,  
Not to repent your confidence.  Octav. 
You have  
Supplied my fathel in your care of me.  
I live? why I am this great Lords favourite,  
Courted, his creatures are my honour's  
Companion to his pleasures.  Rivi. 
I observed  
Some gestures very loving to your Lordship.  Octav. 
The King himself for his sake gracing me,  
With title of his bedchamber.  Rivi. 
'tis strange;  
This news will cool my resolution.  Andr. 
'tis truth he doth engage him to all favours.  Rivi. 
'tis not impossible he may be honest.  Octa. 
And mean so; but my soul cannot be bribed  
So easily to prostrate my own justice  
And leave my father's ashes unrevenged  
Which in my ear groan from beneath the Marble  
To keep my thoughts awake.  Andr. 
We may suspect  
This is to catch applause a trick to win  
Upon the people who did love Riviero  
And mourn his fate.  Octav. 
however I have art  
To keep my breast close, and accept his flatteries,  
Can compliment, and with officious bend  
Thank his high favours, wear a face of mirth  
And prattle with the Ladies as if all  
The business I came into the world for,  
Were but to talk and dance, and go a feasting.  Rivi. 
I must presume, you want no counsel from  
My Lord who loved your father, how to manage  
yourself to best advantage of your fame  
And honour; unto both I am a servant.  Andr. 
My Lord Montalto may expect you Sir.  Rivi. 
It is not safe we be observed too much.  Octav. 
My Lord you have begun a favour by  
The acquaintance of this Gentleman; I will  
Hope to salute him often by your means;  
You shall not meet a heart more prompt to bid  
You welcome Sir.  Rivi. 
You too much grace your servant;  
I shall present a trouble.  Octav. 
Come my Lord.  Exit. Rivi. 
Montalto's change hath staggered me already;  
These favours may be hearty to Octavio,  
And argument of penitence; I'll observe  
And sift his close heart; if it prove unsound,  
He whets revenge to make the deeper wound  Exit. Enter Guido, Bombo. Guid. 
I would speak with your Lady Sir.  Bom. 
You may.  Guid. 
Direct me.  Bom. 
With which of my Ladies.  Guid. 
With both, or one.  Bom. 
I serve the daughter.  Guid. 
I would speak with her.  Bom. 
she is— I know not where.  Guid. 
What coxcomb's this.  Enter jacamo. Guid. 
Dost hear friend, I would speak with my Lady  
Simphorosa.  Iacam. 
This way and please your Lordship.  Guid. 
Stay prithee; what fellow's that?  Iacam. 
A servant of my Ladies.  Guid. 
Is he mad?  Iaca. 
A little fantastic, but very harmless,  
And makes my Ladies merry; my young Madam  
Domitilla calls him her secretary for sport;  
And wonder of his good parts.  Guid. 
What are they?  Iaca. 
He can neither write nor read.  Guid. 
An excellent Secretary.  Iaca. 
But he has been much given to 't,  
To reading, till much poring night and day  
Made him book blind; and defying spectacles,  
He walks and thinks he is wise, and talks upon  
His old stock.  Guid. 
prithee acquaint my Lady; i'th' mean time  
I'll have more dialogue with him;  
Save you Sir.  Bom. 
Save yourself Sir; you are I take't a Courtier.  Guid. 
And you my Lady's Secretary.  Bom. 
I am so.  Guid. 
I hear you are an understanding Secretary.  Bom. 
'tis so, I am; how came you by that knowledge?  Guid. 
We have your fame at Court Sir.  Bom. 
Can you read?  Guid. 
I hear you cannot.  Bom. 
Right.  Guid. 
Nor write.  Bom. 
'tis true.  Guid. 
What make you with a book? ha this is Euclid.  Bom. 
Euclid; it may be so.  Guid. 
Why these are Mathematics.  Bom. 
I have a Chest full of them in my custody;  
They were my old Lords, grey when I took charge on 'em  
But now look spruce and young; there's something in 'em.  Gu. 
What in the name of ignorance dost thou do with 'em.  Bom. 
I am excellent at turning over leaves,  
By which I keep the worms away.  Guid. 
Most learnedly.  Bom. 
I learned it of my Lady's Chaplain Sir;  
Men are not always bound to understand  
Their Library; but to omit learning,  
Not now considered by wise men, what is  
Your business here I pray?  Guid. 
It does concern  
yourself; the King has heard of your good parts.  Bom. 
Sir, as you love me say you saw me not;  
I knew I should one time or other be  
Found out for state employments; here's my Lady.  Enter Simphorosa, Domitilla, 
I must obscure myself.  Domit. 
Why how now Secretary,  
Whether so fast.  Bom. 
You little think.  Domit. 
What prithee.  Bom. 
Nor ever would believe; but 'tis not my fault  
If the King come in person, I'll not be seen.  Domit. 
The King.  Bom. 
Few words; there's one I know him not  
Is little better than a spy upon me;  
If you look not to me I am gone.  Exit. Domit. 
So it seems.  Simp. 
How? dine today with us.  Guid. 
Such is his royal pleasure;  
He is now hunting with the Duke, whom he  
Intends to make your guest too.  Simp. 
My Lord I am not used to entertainments,  
Nor is my house sit for so great a presence;  
To avoid a storm they might obey  
Necessity, and take it for some shelter,  
But in so calm a day.  Guid. 
Madam although  
You please to undervalue what's your own,  
The King despairs not you will bid him welcome;  
You have no narrow dwelling, and he knows  
Your heart is spacious like your fortune's Madam;  
Princes do honour when they come upon  
Their subjects' invitation, but they love  
Where they invite themselves.  Simp. 
My duty is  
To meet that interpretation, though the news  
Come unexpected; now it will my Lord  
Become me to be thrifty of the minute,  
Their persons being so near; you will excuse  
If so short summons do expect my care  
To entertain 'em; my good Lord you have honoured me.  Guid. 
'tis service I am bound to.  Exit Simpho. Domit. 
Pray my Lord.  
In your opinion, what should move the King  
To invite himself our guest, and bring the Duke  
Along with him; he used not to retire  
From hunting with this ceremony.  Guid. 
Princes  
Are like the winds, and not to be examined  
Where they will breathe their favours.  Domit. 
'tis confessed  
An honour to us, and I hope you'll pardon  
A woman's curiosity.  Guid. 
Shall I  
Deliver my opinion; while the King  
In entertainment of the Duke is showing  
The pleasures and the glories of his kingdom  
He cannot hide, that which his Naples boasteth,  
Her greatest ornament your beauty Madam.  Domit. 
I thank your Lordship; I may now believe  
The court's removing hither; yet this language  
Might do you service to some other Lady  
And I release it willingly; your compliments  
I know my Lord are much worse for wearing  Guid. 
You rather will believe yourself worth praise  
Then hear it; though we call it modesty,  
It grows from some thing like a woman's pride,  
But it becomes you Madam; I take leave;  
My service to your noble Lady mother.  Exit Guido. Domit. 
Mine shall attend your Lordship.  Enter Simphorosa. Simp. 
Now Domitilla, is my Lord gone?  Dom. 
Yes Madam.  Simp. 
I expected not  
These guests today, they'll take us unprepared.  Domit. 
Not with our hearts to serve 'em, and their goodness  
Will excuse other want.  Simp. 
I know not daughter,  
But I could wish rather to enjoy ourselves,  
Not for the cost, those thoughts are still beneath me.  Dom. 
You have cause to fear I hope y'are troubled.  Simp. 
For thy sake Domitilla.  Dom. 
Mine dear Madam.  Simp. 
It was for thee I chose this quiet life  
Upon thy father's death, and left the court;  
Thou art all my care, sole heir to all my fortunes,  
Which I should see unwillingly bestowed.  
On some gay prodigal.  Dom. 
I cannot reach  
Your meaning.  Simp. 
By some hasty marriage.  Dom. 
You would have me live a Virgin; a less fortune  
Would serve me for a Nun.  Sim. 
'tis not my thought;  
Thou art young and fair and though I do not  
Suspect thy mind, thus far bred up to virtue,  
I would not have it tempted but reserved  
For a most noble choice, wherein should meet  
My care and thy obedience.  Dom. 
Y'are my mother,  
And have so far by your example taught me,  
I Shall not need the precepts of your virtue,  
And let no thought of me take from your cheerfulness  
To entertain the King; we owe him duty,  
And that charm won't hurt us.  Sim. 
This does please me.  Dom. 
It shall be still my study.  Sim. 
I must see  
How they prepare, things may want method else.  Exit Simphorosa. Enter Octavio. Octa. 
I kiss your fair hand Madam Domitilla;  
The King and Duke and all the jolly hunters  
With appetites as fierce as their own hounds,  
Will be here presently.  Dom. 
I hope they will not  
Devour us my good Lord.  Octa. 
But I would sit and feast and feed mine eyes  
With Domitilla's beauty.  Dom. 
So my Lord; here was a gentleman  
You could not choose but meet him spoke your dialect;  
I have forgot his name, but he was some  
Great Lord.  Octa. 
Fie what a ignorance you live in,  
Not to be perfect in a great Lords name;  
There are few Ladies live with us but know  
The very Pages; leave this darkness Madam,  
And shine in your own sphere, where every star  
Hath his due adoration.  Dom. 
Where?  Octav. 
The Court  
Confine such beauty to a Country house,  
Live among Hinds, and thick skinned fellows that  
Make faces, and will hop a furlong back  
To find the other leg they threw away  
To show their reverence; with things that squat  
When they should make a curtsy; to Court Madam,  
And live not thus for shame, the second part  
Of a fond Anchorite; we can distinguish  
Of beauty there, and wonder without spectacles,  
Write Volumes of your praise, and tell the world  
How envious diamonds, 'cause they could not  
Reach to the lustre of your eyes dissolved  
To angry tears; the Roses droop, and gathering  
Their leaves together, seem to chide their blushes  
That they must yield your cheek the victory:  
The Lilies when they are censured for comparing  
With your more clear and native purity  
Want white to do their penance in.  Dom. 
So, so;  
Have you done now my young poetic Lord.  Octav. 
There will be no end Madam of your praises.  Dom. 
And to no end you have spent all this breath;  
Allow all this were wit, that some did think us  
The creatures they commend (and those whom love  
Hath cursed into Idolatry and verse  
May perhaps die so) we do know ourselves  
That we are no such things.  Octa. 
Is't possible.  Dom. 
And laugh at your Chimaeras.  Octa. 
Y'are the wiser.  Dom. 
If this be your court practice, let me dwell  
With truth and plain simplicity.  Octa. 
If I  
Might have my choice, I would live with you Madam,  
A neighbour to this innocence; your mother.  Enter Simphorosa. 
The king is come already.  Enter King, Duke, Montalto, Guido, Aloisio, Alexio. King. 
Madam though you are  
So unkind as not to see the court sometime,  
The court is come to visit you.  Sim. 
You have  
Humbled yourself too much to do us honour.  King. 
The Duke of Florence.  Sim. 
'tis a blessing that  
My roof can boast so great a guest.  King. 
Her daughter  
Worth your salute.  Duke. 
she is worth a world my Lord,  
What is that lady's name?  Mont. 
In this you most  
Appear a stranger; she is the glory  
Of Naples, for her person and her virtues  
That dwells in this obscure place like the shrine  
Of some great Saint, to which devotion  
From several parts brings daily men like pilgrims.  Duke. 
Her name.  Mont. 
she is wit, beauty, chastity, and all  
That can make woman lovely to man's soul,  
So far from the capacity of ill  
That virtues in all other of her Sex  
Like stains, but fit of her perfection,  
And when is named all goodness in her titles,  
The ornament, nay glory of them all  
Is Domitilla Sir.  Duke. 
You speak her high,  
And I may guess by your description  
My Lord, this Lady hath another name,  
She is your mistress.  Mont. 
Not mine; she was created for some Prince,  
And can beside her virtues bring a fortune  
Worth his embrace.  Duke. 
What charms are in her looks.  Mont. 
Are you there Duke; this meeting was my project;  
Things may succeed to my ambition,  
If I do noose your highness.  Sim. 
Please your Majesty.  King. 
All things must please here.  Duke. 
I follow Sir.  Sim. 
This is a grace I ever must be proud of.  Exeunt.  

The second Act.  Bombo, Jacamo. Bom. 
Have they almost dined? stay, stay a little:  Iaca. 
The last course is o'th' table;  
Why do not you wait?  Bom. 
That were a way indeed to be discovered,  
No, the King shall pardon me; he has  
Not seen me yet for all his cunning.  Iaca. 
Whom do you mean.  Bom. 
The King; thou art ignorant  
I'll tell thee after dinner; i'th' mean time  
Direct a wandering bottle of wine this way  
And let me alone though I appear not in't  
I may have a humour to make a Mask if they  
Stay supper.  Iac. 
Thou make a Mask.  Bom. 
I do not say I'll write one, for I ha' not  
My writing tongue, though I could once have read,  
But I can give if need be the design,  
Make work among the Deal boards, and perhaps  
Can teach 'em as good language as another  
Of competent ignorance; things go not now  
By learning; I have read 'tis but to bring  
Some pretty impossibilities, for antimasques  
A little sense and wit disposed with thrift,  
With here and there Monsters to make 'em laugh;  
For the grand business to have Mercury  
Or Venus Dandyprat to usher in  
Some of the gods that are good fellows dancing,  
Or goddesses, and now and then a song  
To fill a gap; a thousand crowns perhaps  
For him that made it, and there's all the wit.  Iaca. 
In what?  Bom. 
In getting of the money.  Iaca. 
You are witty signior Bombo to advance  
The muse, I'll fetch a bottle that you talked o',  Exit. Bom. 
If there be a superfluous Pheasant  
'twill quell my hunger for a time; I hear  
Intelligence of an Oleo; if any  
Such things may be recovered from the courtiers  
That have been appetites upon hunting dinners;  
You sha'not need to inquire much after me.  Enter jacamo. 
I shall be hereabouts; why thou hast wings.  Iaca. 
A bottle of rich wine.  Bom. 
Thou wert always honest.  Iaca. 
There's asking for my Lady's Secretary  Bom. 
I knew't; I am not here;  
Do they inquire already? come I'll pledge thee;  
What wilt thou say if somebody be sent for to Court.  Iaca. 
I'll drink somebody's health.  Bom. 
thouart a good fellow, and this courtesy  
Shall be remembered.  Within call jacamo. Iaca. 
I am called.  Bom. 
Leave, leave your wicker, friend we'll drink a cup  
When thou art gone; 'tis very excellent wine;  
And now I have a stomach like an edge tool;  
But no good comes of idleness— t'other cup;  
The bottle grows light headed; how now friend?  
No dish of meat appear; nothing to show  
The Kitchen and the wine-cellar are friends?  
I would the Cook were roasted honest jacamo  Enter Jacamo, and Pietro. 
I was thinking of a brace of Cocks just as you came.  Iaca. 
I have retrieved a covey of Partridge for thee.  Piet. 
And a cup of Greek wine; here's to thee.  Bom. 
I understand Greek wine; I'll lose no time.  Iaca. 
What's this a Book.  Bom. 
No, 'tis my learned trencher  
Which Scholars sometimes eat, Euclid they call it;  
In my opinion this wing and leg  
Is worth all bodies mathematical;  
Now let's dispute in Greek, to the king's health.  Pie. 
To me, I'll pledge.  Iaca. 
It shall go round.  Bom. 
And why do you think my friend the King  
Came hither with the Duke.  Pie. 
To dine.  Bom. 
Thy brains are in thy guts; you shall hear more;  
What's this?  Iaca. 
Potato Bulley.  Bom. 
A cup of wine to clear the passage; so,  
Here is as they say Latin; here is Greek, and  
Here is for aught I know an Hebrew root, most learnedly  
Met together.  Iaca. 
he'll be drunk presently.  Bom. 
Bottle in battle ray, present, give fire, so, as  
You were; have they good stomachs jacamo?  
How feeds the King?  Iaca. 
He was very pleasant with your Lady;  
But the Duke feeds upon her looks.  Bom. 
My Lady's health, my Lady little Domitilla's health.  Pie. 
Well said; about, about.  Bom. 
I am about another to our reverend Lady Simphorosa;  
So, so; this wine they say will make us see things double,  
Here is but one Leg visible; well for this favour  
Gentlemen if I be forced to live in court I'll make  
You all in time; who can write or read among you.  Both. 
None, none; we scorn it.  Bom. 
You shall have all preferment trust to me,  
And mark my steps; here to the courteous drinker;  
Now do I find a noble constitution in me, now  
Could I leap; would thou wert any living Lady  
In my way now.  Iaca. 
Away; the Lords are risen.  Bom. 
The Lords do rise and fall.  Piet. 
he's paid; the King will come this way.  Bom. 
Every man go his own way; I wonot see  
The King for all this.  Enter Guido, Aloisio, Aloxio. 
Friend.  Guid. 
This is the Lady's Secretary, pray my Lords  
Be acquainted with him.  Bom. 
D'ee hear nobody say he saw me, I wonot  
Be seen yet.  He reels in. Guid. 
Though he be made a spectacle; but leave him  
'Twas a handsome entertainment o'the sudden.  Alo. 
A pretty hunting dinner; but did you not  
Observe with what intention the Duke  
Shot eyes on Domitilla.  Alex. 
And the King  
Applied all his discourse to her; I know not;  
He has made no vow against a second marriage  
But if he choose at home and look at beauty.  Guid. 
she's a very pretty talking Lady.  Ale. 
Very ingenious.  Aloi. 
And with your favour, though she be no Court Lady.  
she wants no confidence.  Alex. 
What if the Duke be taken with her  Guid. 
Let him be taken a-bed with her, 'tis my opinion  
My Lord Montalto wonot die for grief on't.  Alo. 
They are here.  Duke Montalto. Mont. 
Your grace is sad; excuse  
My diligence to wait on you; I could wish  
If it made no intrusion on your thoughts,  
I had opportunity to express  
What might not be unworthy of your patience:  
Duke. To me.  Enter King, leads Domitilla. Mont. 
The King.  
This way Ladies to the Garden; let me have  
The honour to attend you.  Exit Duke Montalto. King. 
Where's the Duke.  Guid. 
He took that way to the Garden Sir, with  
The Lord Montalto.  King. 
You may remove a little;  Exit. 
You have no fear to trust yourself with me.  Dom. 
I cannot Sir forget you are the King,  
And in a Wilderness could have no thought  
With the least prejudice upon your virtue.  King. 
You have the greater innocence at home,  
My intents are fair enough, and you may stand  
The danger of a question; pray how old are you?  Dom. 
Although it be not held a welcome compliment  
To our Sex, my duty bids me not dispute;  
I am fifteen my mother says.  King. 
And are  
You not in love.  Domit. 
I must not charge myself  
With so much ignorance to answer, that  
I understand not what it means; I know  
The word, but never could apply the sense,  
Or find it in a passion more than ordinary.  King. 
Cupid hath lost his quiver then; he could not  
Be armed, and let you scape, whose sole captivity  
Would be more glory than the conquest made  
As Poets feign upon the gods.  Dom. 
'tis language  
With which you are pleased to mock your humble handmaid.  King. 
But this assures him blind.  Dom. 
He would deserve  
To lose his eyes indeed if he should aim  
A shaft at me.  King. 
Madam you have a heart.  Dom. 
To which no other  
Flame can approach; then what shall light it to  
Obedience of your will and my good mothers.  King. 
Obedience to my will; what if it were  
My will that you should love.  Dom. 
Sir, I do love.  King. 
Love with the warm affection of a mistress  
One I'll present a servant, why that blush;  
The words are not immodest; there did want  
No blood upon your cheek to make it lovely;  
Or does it slow in silence to express  
That which your virgin Language would not be  
So soon held guilty of, consent.  Dom. 
To what?  King. 
To love by my direction a man  
Whose worth considered shall deserve thee too,  
And in the noblest way invite thy freedom  
Until the holy Priests declare, your hearts  
Are knit into one blessing; there's no harm  
In this.  Dom. 
Most royal Sir I know not, with  
What words to say, you honour me; how can  
One so unworthy as poor Domitilla  
Be entertained within your thoughts and care  
In this high nature.  King. 
Though your mother have  
Made both her person and yourself a stranger  
To Court, I have had eyes upon your virtues  
Which waited on by a most ample fortune,  
I have studied to advance, if you'll accept  
A husband of a my choice; what say you Madam?  Dom. 
I have a mother Sir.  King. 
She shall think it fortunate  
'bove expectation; you have not vowed yourself  
To a cold Nunnery.  Dom. 
Not I Sir.  King. 
When  
I shall declare how precious he is  
To my own bosom.  Dom. 
Royal Sir, this language  
Must needs prepare a welcome; I should think  
My heart unlike another woman's, not  
To obey a charm so powerful as your praise;  
But when you are considered as my King,  
Duty takes off the merit of my will  
And humbles every thought beneath obedience.  King. 
His name is.  Dom. 
Pardon I beseech you Sir,  
Conceal it yet; what gentle spirit walks  
Upon my blood; I dare not look upon him  
My hopes my fears; it is enough great Sir,  
That you leave one within your thought, you would  
Commend to Domitilla, one your love,  
And precious to your bosom; sure you blessed him  
With such a Character.  King. 
It was too short.  Dom. 
My heart is a false Prophet; 'tis a fate  
Too good and great for Domitilla.  King. 
Well his name shall be reserved; but when it opens  
itself to your knowledge you will honour it,  
And thank me Domitilla; i'th' mean time  
Let the opinion you have of me  
Live in your trust, and make room in your heart  
To meet the husband I shall bring.  Exit. Dom. 
Why may not this be meant by his own person?  
More wonders have been read in story; I  
Find thick but amorous tremblings in my heart;  
he's King; why not? love has done stranger things,  
And can lead captive the proud heart of Kings.  Exit. Enter Duke, Montalto. Duke. 
Here none can reach our voice: be free and clear.  Mon. 
First let me kiss your hand, on which I swear  
To speak all truth; 'tis justice to your person,  
Your merit and my faith; next though the secret  
May both concern and benefit your knowledge,  
I shall desire your pardon  Duke. 
You prepare me  
For wonder, if it be an act of Friendship  
To me, it will become me to reward it,  
Not thanks, nor pardon.  Mon. 
But all truths meet not  
With charitable ears; there is a descant  
That pleases not sometimes though the best art  
Present it, if our sense be indisposed  
To patience and calm hearing.  Duke. 
Do not doubt me.  Mont. 
'twill not become me so much as in thought  
To inquire how long, or with what firm devotion,  
You affect the Princess, Theodosia;  
But Naples is more conscious, then to doubt  
You bring a welcome treaty in your person,  
And every voice and heart is busy with  
The expectation of your marriage;  
Whilst every eye bright with your flame is able  
To light a Torch to Hymen; Virgins have  
No other care then with what flowers sweet  
As your own name to adorn the smiling altars.  Duke. 
You promised Sir a secret.  Mon. 
It will come  
To fast upon your knowledge; have you never  
Looked from the prospect of your Palace window,  
When some fair sky courted your eye to read  
The beauties of a day, the glorious Sun  
Enriching so the bosom of the earth  
That trees and flowers appeared but like so much  
Enamel upon gold; the wanton birds  
And every creature but the drudging ant  
Despising providence, and at play and all  
That world you measure with your eye, so gay  
And proud, as winter were no more to shake  
His Icy Locks upon 'em, but the breath  
Of gentle Zephire to perfume their growth,  
And walk eternally upon the Springs;  
When from a coast you see not, comes a cloud  
Creeping as overladen with a storm:  
Dark as the womb of night, and with her wings  
Surprising all the glories you beheld;  
Leaves not your frighted eyes a light to see  
The ruins of that flattering day.  Duke. 
This Language  
Carries both mystery and horror; pray  
My Lord convey your meaning to my knowledge.  Mon. 
I shall, I had in vain prepared you thus else;  
Pardon again the story; Theodosia,  
More beautiful than the day I figured by her,  
Is quite o'ercast and looks through an Eclipse  
Upon your love: she has no heart, but what  
Another is possessed of.  Duke. 
Ha.  Mont. 
I know  
It cannot but afflict your thoughts that all  
Your expectation ripe and courted, to  
The enjoying such a treasure as she is,  
Must finish in embracing of a shadow,  
Invited to a fable, not a bride  
That should with joy dwell in your princely arms;  
For Theodosia without sacrilege  
Cannot be yours; she is contracted.  Duke. 
How?  
The King of Naples must not Sir engage  
Florence to such a mockery.  Mon. 
'tis my duty  
To clear his honour in't he has a pure  
Intention to make his sister yours; her close  
Though honourable love's designed without  
His knowledge, and you will but waste your rage  
Upon her destiny which will bury her  
In her own ruins, if your anger make  
The King her enemy.  Duke. 
I do not find  
My heart in any disposition  
To break at hearing of this news, but wish it  
Truth to prepare rooms for another guest;  
The fairer Domitilla is here sainted.  Mont. 
Your excellency.  Duke. 
Must not be thus affronted  
Montalto, and return with this dishonour,  
Was there no cheaper person to be made  
Ridiculous in Naples.  Mont. 
Calm your blood,  
I know you must resent it, but let not  
Your passion make the world believe you should  
Despair to find one apter to your bosom;  
The richest beauty in the world, your birth  
And fortune must deserve and I should curse  
My forward duty to your grace.  Duke. 
No more  
I have considered better and although  
Your love may merit thanks, yet this intelligence  
won't concern my faith; this cannot be Sir.  Mont. 
My honour is engaged then to convince you  
Though with the hazard of my life and fortunes,  
Both which must now depend upon your mercy;  
Your breath shall make 'em bleed or live.  Duke. 
What means  
Montalto?  Mont. 
To translate the power of all  
My Stars, and make you Lord of my whole fate  
Theodosia's heart Sir should be mine, by free  
Gift of herself, who has been pleased to take  
My vows in the exchange, which now may boast  
Some time and growth, which could not be a sin  
Against your love, with which all that can spring  
From me deserves no name, nor dare I take  
Boldness to call her mine, who am a thing  
Lighter than air in balance with your grace,  
If you but chide the ambition, and could render,  
Though I commit a rape on my own life,  
All that her love hath promised me.  Duke. 
'tis strange.  Mont. 
But she let me take freedom to be plain.  Duke. 
Is not to be reduced you'll say.  Mont. 
Sir, women  
Love not with that safeguard upon their passion  Duke. 
She has a wise art to dissemble then.  Mont. 
'tis fear it should arrive at the King knowledge.  
In whose displeasure she is lost and not  
A will to mock your grace, for whom there is  
Another wound within her mind, that she  
Should wear a smiling summer in her brow  
Yet frost within her heart, in which unhappily  
She comes to near the nature of the Adamant  
Hard to your grace whom she attracts; but love  
Your wisdom knows is in the volume of  
Our fate decreed, whose periods when they are  
By time made known; greatness on earth, that means  
To play the tyrant with us, may have strength  
To punish not reverse.  Duke. 
I am confirmed  
And prosper in my thoughts.  Mont. 
It takes.  Duke. 
My Lord,  
You have expression act of confidence  
Which I must not betray though to my loss,  
It is some happiness to know this early;  
We may be expected; you shall find me Sir  
A Prince, but no usurper.  Mont. 
I am your creature,  
The King.  Enter King, Simphorosa, Domitilla, Guido, Aloisio, Alexio. 
We build upon your piety  
Until some little time may call our loves  
Out of this silence.  King. 
You understand me Madam?  Simp. 
And am honoured.  Duke. 
Her eyes beget new wonder; I shall be observed.  King. 
Come, now to horse.  Duke. 
I shall attend; your entertainement has  
Obliged us Madam.  Sim. 
'twas not worth such guest;  
But prayers and duty must supply.  King. 
Now Madam you are a great part of my care,  
Depend upon me for a husband.  Dom. 
Is't not plain.  Duke. 
Madam another guest must take his leave,  
That here would choose his palace.  Dom. 
You are gracious, and but encourage more to honour you  Mont. 
I'll creep and kiss thy Altar love, allow  
Them flame, and knit more charms upon her brow.  Exeunt.  

The third Act.  Duke and Riviero. Duke. 
'tis thy old quarrel 'gainst Montalto makes  
Thee incredulous, I dare believe he loves  
Theodosia.  Rivi. 
'tis not that I question Sir,  
But that part which concerns her love to him  
Sounds like a plot upon your nature, to  
Secure his own ambition.  Duke. 
Why the Princess  
May love; as great a heart has been made stoop.  Rivi. 
Your grace should else in vain court her yourself  
And late your highness thought she meet your person  
A fair design of love, with all the soft  
Behaviour of a Princess.  Duke. 
But 'tis not  
Impossible a Lady should dissemble.  Rivi. 
Allow her but the honour she was borne with,  
And she'll not stain her blood so much.  Duke. 
But love  
Must be obeyed, and prepossession  
Of hearts is a lewd thing to wrestle with,  
I make it my own case, and if I loved  
Another Lady better than the Princess,  
As every man's not proof against all beauty,  
I think I should be constant too, it would  
Be something to remove me.  Rivi. 
Then the King.  Duke. 
He knows not; & I have bound myself in honour  
Not to betray, if they be decreed  
To make a marriage; a soft destiny  
Attend their loves.  Rivi. 
There is some mystery;  
But will you rest and take for granted she  
Does love Montalto; if it be a truth  
Y'are in the same condition when she  
Confirms it.  Duke. 
'tis not good to be busy  
In search of these unwelcome certainties;  
There's hope while things are clouded in suspicion.  Rivi. 
But so your jealousy may wound her honour,  
Which you may cure by knowledge.  Duke. 
I will think on't;  
Mean time let this dwell in that honest silence  
You have possessed; there is another secret  
May follow.  Rivi. 
You must challenge my whole bosom,  
And I am confident your highness will  
Steer all your resolutions by honour,  
Which in a Prince is sacred.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Sir, the Lord  
Montalto is coming up.  Duke. 
Then try your art upon him,  
And inform yourself, I'll take  
My time to appear.  Exit Duke. Enter Montalto. Rivi. 
I obey  
My honoured Lord.  Mon. 
Most noble Phillberto,  
Where is the Duke?  Rivi. 
If you'll but excuse a few minutes  Mont. 
'tis  
My duty to attend.  Rivi. 
How is it with the Princess my good Lord?  Mont. 
The Princess? she is in health; why this to me,  
He is of inward counsel with the Duke,  
I must be resolute.  Rivi. 
I ask, because,  
His grace intends a present visit to her,  
And was but now in mention of your Lordship  
To bear him company.  Mont. 
I like not that;  
He knows he may command my services.  Rivi. 
He will deserve your love; pray my Lord tell me,  
And let us be plain breasted; you enjoy  
The King, as I, but with less stock of merit,  
The favour of his excellence; how affect you  
The present state of things; willt be a match?  
There is loud expectation in the world,  
And after all, my Master's fond to have it  
Proceed; to these, I am of opinion  
There's no retreating now without dishonour;  
Yet as I am Philiberto I much pity  
He should through any wound to your affection  
Perfect his love.  Mont. 
He has told you then the secret,  
And not to waste more language, I collect  
From what you have expressed, he does resolve  
To destroy me; Montalto must be trod on.  Rivi. 
Not so my Lord.  Mont. 
Yes, and my heart the ascent,  
To his Hymeneal altar, which must be  
Made crimson with the blood of a true lover,  
His will be obeyed, Theodosia shall see  
To advance her, Montalto will go smiling  
To his sacrifice, and after many prayers,  
That she may live the darling of his heart,  
I'll change my acquaintance of this world to be  
At peace in my own ashes.  Rivi. 
You will not  
Commit a violence upon yourself?  Mont. 
I sha' not need; the thought of her will kill me  
With as much silence as I go to sleep;  
I only shall bleed inward, and my life  
Remove itself like a fair apparition  
That vanishes to th'eye, and with less noise  
Than a calm Summer's evening; but when I  
Am dead, 'tis not impossible, some may  
Report Theodosia was but ravished from me;  
Fear of a brother's anger, and the trick  
Of politic states, that marry to knit power  
Not hearts, did force her to Herares arms,  
Whilst I, torn from the branch where I once grew,  
Travel I know not whether in the air.  Rivi. 
I begin  
To think him worth some pity.  Mont. 
Into what  
Vain thing would the severe apprehension  
Of grief transform us? coward, let the Duke  
Move with all amorous haste to his delight,  
And glory in the hope of his fair bride,  
Mine by the gift of heaven, and hearts; but all  
My flowers grow dully on their stalks, and wither;  
Let her gay Paranymphs with rosy Chaplets,  
Which will take all their colour from her blush,  
Attend on Theodosia to the Temple,  
While as they go, no rude wind shall be heard,  
But so much breath of heaven as gently may  
Lifting their loose hair up, whisper my wrong  
To every virgin's care; let them be married,  
Knit hands, and plight a ceremonious faith;  
Let all the triumphs waste; let them be wasted,  
And night itself bribed with a thousand forms  
Of mirth and Revels, till the night grow faint  
And pale with watching,  
Invite to bed; yet there he shall enjoy  
But Theodosia's body, and not that  
As his fair thoughts expect, perhaps the conquest  
Of one whom he loved better.  Exit Montal. Enter Duke. Rivi. 
How was that.  Duke. 
Now shall I trust him? if my sense mistake not  
Theodosia may not be a Virgin.  Rivi. 
'twas  
His bold conclusion.  Duke. 
Where is now the honour  
You talk of; durst Montalto charge her with  
This stain, without his conscience to assure it.  Rivi. 
Yes, and to me this tenders him the more  
To be suspected and I am so far  
From thinking she affects Montalto, that  
I am convinced he loves her not; can he  
Have any noble thought of Theodosia,  
That dares traduce her honour; think o' that;  
And can revenge in any lover be  
A reason to wound a Lady's fame; it tastes  
Of rank injustice, and some other end  
Time will discover; and yet your grace is bound  
To have his accusation confirmed,  
Or haunt this spotted panther to his ruin,  
Whose breath is only sweet to poison virtue.  Duke. 
What I resolve inquire not.  Exit Duke. Rivi. 
I see through  
Montalto's soul, and have been so long tame  
In my own sufferings; but this will make  
Him ripe for punishment; Andrugio and  
My son.  Enter Andrugio, Octavio. Octav. 
I cannot with the wings of duty  
Fly swift enough to prostrate my obedience  
And welcome from a long supposed death,  
My honoured father.  Rivi. 
Then I must appear so.  Andr. 
And let me give a son up to your blessing  
Worthy your best prayers, and embrace; 'twas time  
To bring you acquainted; he had else this night  
Contrived Montalto's tragedy at a Banquet,  
For your revenge his active thoughts I could not  
Counsel no longer patience.  Rivi. 
Thou hast but  
Prevented me Octavio; I was  
Weary of my concealment.  Octav. 
But my joys are wild,  
And will I fear, transport me.  Rivi. 
My best friend,  
And my own spirited boy, fear not Montalto;  
he's now upon a precipice; his fate  
Stoops with the glorious burden of his pride.  
Things may be worth our counsel; we shall see  
This prodigy that would be held a Star,  
And did so fright us with his streaming hair,  
Drop like a Comet, and be lost i'th' air.  Exeunt. Montalto, Theodosia. Mont. 
Is't possible the day should be so old,  
And not a visit from the Duke.  Theo. 
While he  
Enjoys health, I shall easily forgive  
A little ceremony.  Mont. 
And a lover;  
Your grace must chide him; other men may have  
Excuse for their neglect of time, but he  
That loves deserves no pardon.  Theod. 
Judge with charity  
My Lord; the case may be your own; you would  
Think her a cruel mistress, that should doom  
Your life to exile, for not payment of  
One ceremonious visit.  Mont. 
Not where such  
Perfection were to engage my service Madam;  
Pardon the bold comparison; death were not  
Enough to punish that rude thought that could  
Start from your bright Idea; or converse  
With praters that did not first concern your excellence.  
I would not be ambitious of a blessing  
But from reflex of yours.  Theo. 
You would express  
A most officious servant to that Lady  
Were honoured in your thought; but the Duke of Florence  
And I shall make no such severe conditions.  Mon. 
If he do love you Madam, that will teach him  
Above what ceremony prescribes to honour you.  Theo. 
If he do love.  Mont. 
Your grace's pardon; I  
Speak from an honest freedom taken from  
The assurance of your goodness, that know better  
How to distinguish truth; I am not judge  
Of his breast Madam.  Theo. 
I suppose you are not.  Mont. 
And yet being a man another way  
Conclude his passions are but such as have  
Been read in humane nature.  Theo. 
What infer you  
From hence my Lord?  Mont. 
Nothing but that a Prince  
May be no Saint in love.  Theo. 
how's that?  Mont. 
'twas in my fear I should displease.  Theo. 
Your will.  Mont. 
Not for the Empire of the world; I shall  
Repent I live with your suspicion  
Upon my humbled soul.  Theo. 
Pray Sir be free  
Touching the Duke; I must know all; what is't  
Makes him no Saint.  Mont. 
Madam he is not dead,  
And in his life I see no miracles.  Theo. 
You talked of love.  Mont. 
No miracles of love;  
He loves as other men that have professed  
Devotion to a mistress— but  Theo. 
What? speak  
I charge thee by the memory of what  
Thou dost affect most.  Mont. 
Though it wound myself  
Be armed and hear it; how I blush within me,  
To tell your highness Florence has transplanted  
His heart, and all his active thoughts are placed.  Theo. 
On whom?  Mont. 
On Domitilla.  Theo. 
Ha.  Mont. 
I did observe 'em Madam, at her mother's house,  
Where we were lately feasted after hunting,  
How strangely he was taken, how his eyes  
Did wanton with her face, and on her hair  
Tie many golden knots, to keep love chained;  
But these are but suspicions; he since  
Confessed to me in hope to win me to  
Negotiate his affair, how at first sight  
He took in desperate flames, and that she rules  
The intelligence of his soul; I hear the King  
Hath sent for her to Court, which must give Madam  
A dangerous opportunity to actuate  
His ends with your dishonour; I was unwilling  
To speak this knowledge of his hasty change,  
But all my bonds of piety and faith  
Would have been forfeit into a long silence.  Theo. 
Shall I be thus affronted.  Mont. 
We see Princes,  
Whom we call gods on earth, in the affairs  
Of love turn men again.  Theo. 
For Domitilla.  Mont. 
That's the dishonour Madam, and infects  
My brain to think on't, and as much beneath  
Your grace in all the ornaments of soul  
And person as she is in blood, if my  
Impartial thoughts may take so bold commission  
To judge between your beauties.  Theo. 
Is it possible;  Mont. 
'tis too certain Madam; I should be  
A villain to accuse the Duke unjustly,  
Or bring but shadows of a truth; for though  
He be unworthy of your love that dares  
Thus value your perfections, below  
That Phantom Domitilla, let not passion  
Make you too rash in managing a cause,  
On which depends your fame, compared to which  
Ten thousand lives added to mine were nothing;  
Observe him at next visit.  Theod. 
I'll study thanks Sir.  Mont. 
You pay me with a blessing, if my name  
But live within your memory.  Theo. 
This troubles me.  Exit Montalto. Enter King and Guido. King. 
Are they both come to court?  Guid. 
And in those lodgings were prepared.  King. 
'tis well, and came they cheerfully?  Guid. 
Yes Sir, but something  
I nigh discern like trouble, and by starts  
In Domitilla; but they are pleased with their  
Remove, and wait all your commands.  King. 
So leave us;  Exit Guido. 
Theodosia, what's the matter? art not well.  Theo. 
Where's the Duke.  King. 
I thought to have met him here.  Theod. 
Is Domitilla come to Court?  King. 
She is  
By my command to wait on thee.  Theo. 
To rival me.  Exit. King. 
how's that?  
I meant her a wife for good Montalto,  
As the reward of his just services;  
He knows it not, as he is ignorant  
For whom I have prepared her; Rival? strange  
I must know more of this; she is in nature  
Too apprehensive; for although in love  
Suspicion to men a torment be,  
There is no Fiend to women's jealousy.  Exit. Domitilla, Bombo. Bom. 
You may do what you will Madam; put me  
Into fine clothes, and make an ass of me;  
But should you wrap me in a lion's skin.  Dom. 
You have ears that will betray what beast you are.  Bom. 
Pray Madam tell me in six words of sense,  
What shall I do here; I'll not see the King,  
Though he have cunningly devised this trick  
Only to bring me hither and betray me  
To offices, make me at least an Idol.  Dom. 
What's that?  Bom. 
An Idol in the Country I have read  
A thing we call a worshipful, a right worshipful,  
Descended from the house of the factotums,  
Lord of the soil, and Cock of his own dunghill.  Dom. 
You may be out of fear; you cannot read now,  
Nor set your name to a warrant.  Bom. 
All that nothing;  
Ignorance every day comes into fashion,  
And no mean statesmen now when they do write  
Their names, do for their honours so contrive it,  
You can hardly know a nobleman from a mark.  Dom. 
If you be an enemy to all preferment,  
Your best way is to leave the world and turn  
A lay friar.  Bom. 
No I find no such thing in my constitution;  
Every man is not bound to be Religious;  
Men of my bulk and bearing should not fast so;  
I am not given by nature to drink water,  
Or lie without a shirt; I have corns Madam,  
And I would make less conscience to undo  
My Shoemaker, then walk on wooden Pantables  
I will endure to serve you still and dwell here,  
So you conceal me from the King; 'tis not  
That I do owe his Majesty ill will;  
I could endure him too upon condition,  
He would make nothing on me.  Dom. 
Why he shall  
Make nothing on thee take my word, or if  
Thou hast a mind I'll pray him make thee less.  Bom. 
No, I would be a middling Christian;  
But what will you do hear yourself; you'll be in.  Dom. 
With whom dost think.  Bom. 
And cast away yourself  
Upon some pageant, one whose wit must be  
Beholding to another's Wool to keep it warm;  
One that can dance and sing and wag his feather,  
An artificial Calf carrier;  
A youth that's sowed together by his Tailor,  
And taken a pieces by his Surgeon.  Dom. 
Why how now Secretary.  Bom. 
I could say more.  Dom. 
Is this wit natural?  Bom. 
You were best say  
I got it here at Court; pray heaven I do not  
Lose what I brought; I had a wholesome wit  
I'th' Country; ask the Parish and the Parson  
For I kept company with those that read  
And learn wit now by the ear; if any slip from me,  
As where there is a plenty some will out,  
Here are so many wit catchers, a lost maidenhead  
Is sooner found and set upon the shoulders  
Of the right owner.  Dom. 
I prithee tell me Bombo,  
And tell me truth, do not you think yourself  
After all this a fool?  Bom. 
A fool; your servant Madam.  Dom. 
I'll speak thou mayst be the king's fool.  Bom. 
I thank you,  
I tell you I'll not see the King, or if I did,  
Yes I look like a fool, I could be angry,  
But then you'd say I were a fool indeed.  Dom. 
Be not so passionate.  Bom. 
Would I had been a fool,  
I would I had, for my own sake I wish it,  
I should not have been tempted hither then,  
By which I have endangered my good parts,  
To State employment; but I'll be wise enough,  
He has not seen me yet nor sha'not if  
There be a witch in Naples, or a mist  
That will be bought for money to walk the Court in,  
But take your course, and I were at home again.  Dom. 
What then?  Bom. 
I would live in the cellar, the Wine cellar.  Dom. 
'tis your humility.  Bom. 
There were some fortification to be made  
Against the Court invasions, countermines  
Of sand and Sack, a man might thrust himself  
Among the bottles, and defy the world,  
Be drunk, and not be called out of his sleep  
To go Ambassador.  Enter Simphorosa. Dom. 
So, so, fear not,  
Have a strong faith, and thou mayst die i'th' country  
For all this; here's my mother; let your care  
Be now that none may interrupt us.  Bom. 
I will do any thing but see the King.  Exit Dom. 
With pardon Madam you seem full of thought.  Sim. 
I am studying Domitilla why the King  
Should send for us to Court.  Dom. 
Mother you cannot  
Mention the King in any act of his  
That is not glorious and like himself;  
He is the great example of a King,  
But richer in his soul then state.  Sim. 
But why  
To us this favour; to call us from those  
Cold and obscure shades of a retirement  
To plant us here near his own beams?  Dom. 
He has some meaning in't.  Sim. 
It 'tis yet dark to me.  Dom. 
We sha' not stain his Court; his sister's but  
A Lady of more distinction of birth;  
Yet all that have been Princes, came not to  
Their state by a descant; the Heralds know  
Some were not borne to purple and to sceptres  
That have been Queens; virtue has raised some,  
And beauty has had many charms to rule  
The heart of Kings.  Simp. 
What's all this Domitilla?  
I hope you are not dreaming of a Queen;  
Such wild interpretation of the king's  
Favour to us cannot be made without  
The forfeits of wits and duties which  
Should teach us to contain our thoughts in their  
Own Sphere and not to point them upon objects  
Above our Level.  Dom. 
I Betray myself,  
When I said beauty had a power to charm  
A King; it might acquit me from suspicion  
Of any hope to apply them so ambitiously;  
You'll grant it just to love the King.  Sim. 
Our duties.  Dom. 
And he may where he please place his affection,  Sim. 
Leave that to her; it may concern.  Dom. 
And she  
That's marked for so great honour should be mad  
To quarrel with her kind fate.  Sim. 
What's all this  
To thee?  Dom. 
To me; why mother is't not possible  
A Lady not much fairer than myself  
May be a Queen; great Princes have eyes  
Like other men, and I should sin against  
What heaven and nature have bestowed on me,  
Should my fate smile to think my face would be  
The bar to such preferment.  Sim. 
Leaving this  
Which is but mirth I know since we are fall'n  
Into discourse of love, what would you answer  
To Lord Montalto if he came a-wooing  
And recommended by the King?  Dom. 
I would  
e'en recommend him to the King again.  Sim. 
Is not his favourite worth your love, if he  
Descend to be your servant.  Dom. 
As a servant  
He may be entertained, and were I Queen,  
Perhaps he should be favourite to both;  
And I would smile upon his services  
In imitation of the King while he  
Preserved his modest duty and his distance:  Sim. 
My daughter is transported, sure you are  
No Queen sweet Domitilla.  Dom. 
'tis a truth,  
Nor is Montalto yet my favourite.  Sim. 
I hope she's not so miserable to affect  
The King, by whose directions I prepare  
Her for Montalto.  Enter Bombo. Bom. 
A sprig of the Nobility called Octavio  
Desires access.  Dom. 
Admit him.  Sim. 
I must let this passion cool and leave her.  Enter Octavio. Octav. 
Welcome to Court; why so; this sphere becomes you,  
Or rather it takes ornament from you;  
Now Domitilla shines indeed; your presence  
Doth throw new beams about the Palace Madam;  
Before we looked as we had lost our genius.  Dom. 
You came not from the King with any message,  Octav. 
I made this haste to tender my own service.  Dom. 
You have no other suit to me?  Octav. 
Yes Madam.  Dom. 
Speak it.  Octav. 
And I'll not wander much about; shall I  
Be admitted a young lover?  Dom. 
Men must not love till they be one & twenty,  
They will be mad before they come to age else.  Octav. 
This Law was ne'er decreed i'th' Parliament  
Of Cupid; such a Statute would undo  
Many sweet Virgins like yourself; yet if  
You'll promise to stay for me, I shall think it  
A happy expectation; we are both  
Young; we may choose each other Valentine  
And couple, as we grow more ripe hereafter.  Dom. 
I'll ask you but one question my Lord,  
What would you give to be the King of Naples?  Octav. 
I dare not think so ambitiously.  Dom. 
'tis modest: what if I cannot love under a Prince.  Octav. 
Can he be less, whom you will make happy  
To boast in the possession of your fair  
Person, a thousand provinces; those eyes  
Are able to create another Indies;  
All the delights that dwell in blessed Tempe  
Divinely bud and blossom in your cheek;  
The treasure of Arabia's in your breath;  
Nor Thebes alone, as to Amphion's Lute  
Stoops to the heavenly magic of your voice,  
But all the world.  Dom. 
No more of this; these praises  
Are made for children, and will make truth blush;  
They may fill up where nature is defective;  
And were I Queen of Naples I should punish  
Such flattery; but you are young and may  
Outgrow this vanity.  Octav. 
You are merciful.  Dom. 
I shall be ever so to you Octavio,  
Let this encourage you to think I love you  
In the first place, of those which are borne subjects;  
If you will answer my respects forbear  
To question further.  Octa. 
I shall wait sometime, and kiss your hand.  Dom. 
And if my power may  
Prevail to do you favour with the King,  
Make your address.  Octa. 
Has not the court transformed her.  Exit. Dom. 
methinks I move upon a state already  
And yet 'tis not the glory of his title  
Affects my hope so much; his person's lovely,  
And both together make the charm; I do  
Expect his royal presence; how shall I  
Behave my looks when he declares himself,  Enter jacamo. Iaca. 
Madam.  Dom. 
Admit not every Lord to trouble me;  
I will take physic; but I'll be observed;  
You may frame some excuse to Ladies too  
That press their visit.  Iaca. 
'tis the Duke.  Dom. 
The Duke.  Iaca. 
Of Florence.  Dom. 
Princes must not be neglected;  
That name gives him access; say I attend.  Enter Duke. Duke. 
The acknowledgements I owe your favours Madam,  
Late your rude guest brings me to kiss your hand.  Dom. 
Your excellence is pleased to interpret fairly  
Of our intents.  Duke. 
And till occasion ripen  
My whole discharge for your fair entertainment,  
Madam, be pleased to wear these Diamonds,  
Which of themselves betray their want of lustre,  
And come with an ambition to recover  
Flame from your smile.  Dom. 
It can be no dishonour  
To take these from a Prince.  Enter jacamo, whispers to Domitilla. 
The King with wings,  
I'll haste to meet him,  Exit. Duke. 
Gone, and so abruptly  
Her business might allow her breath to thank me  
For my rich present; but I'll follow her;  
I would not meet the King here; if she prove  
Gentle, my heart I consecrate to love.  Exit.  

The fourth Act.  Enter King, and Domitilla. King. 
My pretty Domitilla, now you are  
My guest, 'tis fit whom I have made my charge  
Should live within my eyes, welcome once more to Court.  Dom. 
You are bounty Sir itself, and bind  
A virgin's prayers.  King. 
What art thou yet prepared  
To hear his name, I would declare thy husband.  Enter Duke. Duke. 
The King.  King. 
The Duke; this confirms it.  Duke. 
Unlucky fate he has spied me.  King. 
Thou shalt have  
A little patience, while the Duke and I  
Change some discourse in private.  Dom. 
I Obey  Exit. Duke. 
He is sent off; I hope the King is not  
In love with her himself.  King. 
Now my Lord, what  
Alone, I see you can address yourself  
To a handsome Lady.  Duke. 
He has prevented men.  
Where I receive favour I shall never  
Want heart to acknowledge.  King. 
That rule binds to all.  Duke. 
It does but with distinction, to pay.  King. 
But with distinction to pay,  
First love to those that best deserves it from us.  Duke. 
'tis justice Sir.  King. 
This granted, there's another  
Whom though you can forget, my sister Sir  
Deserves to be remembered.  Duke. 
You are jealous  
That I visit this Lady.  King. 
That were only  
To doubt; I must be plain; Florence has not  
Been kind to Naples to reward us with  
Affront for love, and Theodosia must not  
Be any PRINCE's mockery.  Duke. 
I can  
Take boldness too, and tell you Sir it were  
More for her honour, she would mock no Prince  
I am not lost to Florence yet, though I  
Be Naples guest, and I must tell him here  
I came to meet with fair and Princely treaties  
Of love, not to be made the tale of Italy,  
The ground of Scurrile pasquils, or the mirth  
Of any Lady, who shall preingage  
Her heart to another's bosom, and then sneak  
Off like a tame despised property,  
When her ends are advanced.  King. 
I understand not  
This passion; yet it points upon something  
That may be dangerous to conclude; Theodosia  
Is Naples sister, and I must not see  
Her lost to honour, though my kingdom bleed  
To rescue her.  Duke. 
Now you are passionate;  
'tis I must be repaired; my name is wounded,  
And my affection betrayed; your sister  
That looks like a fair star, within love's sky  
Is fall'n, and by the scattering of her fires  
Declares she has alliance with the earth,  
Not heavenly nature.  King. 
Are my senses perfect;  
Be clearer Sir; teach me to understand  
This prodigy; you do not scorn our sister?  Duke. 
Not I; as she has title to your blood  
She merits all ambition, she is a Princess,  
Yet no stain to her invention, we are parallels  
Equal, but never made to meet.  King. 
How's this?  Duke. 
Truth is my witness I did mean  
No ceremonious love, until I found  
Her heart was given from me, though your power  
Contract our bodies.  King. 
Stay and be advised,  
And if your doubts by some malicious tongue  
Framed to abuse my sister, and yourself,  
Have raised this mutiny in your thoughts, I have  
A power to cure all.  Duke. 
Sir you cannot.  King. 
Not to court thee for her husband, wert possessed  
Of all, o'er which our Eagle shakes his wings,  
But to set right her honour; and ere I challenge  
Thee by thy birth, by all thy hopes and right  
To fame, to tell me what seditious breath  
Has poisoned her; hear what my sister sends  
By me so late, time is not old in minutes,  
The word's yet warm with her own breath; pray tell  
The Duke says she, although I know not from  
What root his discontents grow, to devote him  
To Domitilla.  Duke. 
How does she know that?  King. 
Whose beauty has more spell upon his fancy,  
I did contract my heart, when I thought his  
Had been no stronger to his tongue, and can  
Not find within it since, what should divert  
His princely thoughts from my first innocence;  
Yet such is my stern fate I must still love him;  
And though he frame his heart to unkind distance,  
It hath embracing virtue upon mine,  
And with his own remove, draws my soul after him;  
If he forget I am a Princess, pray  
Let Naples do so too; for my revenge  
Shall be in prayers, that he may find my wrong  
But teach him soft repentance, and more faith.  Duke. 
All this must not betray my freedom Sir.  King. 
You'll not accuse our sister of dishonour.  Duke. 
I would not grieve you Sir to hear what I  
Could say; and press me not for your own peace;  
Fame's must be gently touched.  King. 
As thou art Florence speak.  Duke. 
I Shall displease;  
Yet I but tell her brother that doth press me;  
Lucrece was chaste after the rape; but where  
The blood consents, there needs no ravisher.  Exit. King. 
I do grow faint with wonder; here's enough  
To blast an apprehension, and shoot  
A quaking through the valiant soul of man;  
My sister's blood accused, and her fair name  
Late chaste as trembling snow, whose fleeces clothe  
Our Alpine hills, sweet as the Roses spirit  
Or Violets cheek, on which the morning leaves  
A tear at parting, now begins to wither,  
As it would haste to death, and be forgotten;  
This Florence is a Prince that does accuse her;  
And such men give not faith to every murmur  
Or slight intelligence that wounds a Lady  
In her dear honour; but she is my sister;  
Think of that too; credit not all, but ask  
Of thy own veins what guilty flowings there  
May tempt thee to believe this accusation.  Enter Theodosia. 
'tis she;  
thouart come Theodosia to my wishes.  Theo. 
What does distract you Sir.  King. 
I have done your message to the Duke, and find  
He does love Domitilla.  Theo. 
Her he shall meet and marry in Elysium.  King. 
What mean you?  Theo. 
I have shaken off my tameness; do not hinder  
My just revenge; I'll turn their triumphs into death.  King. 
There is a question of more consequence  
Thou must resolve; it does concern thee more  
Than thy own life.  Theo. 
You fright me.  King. 
Are you honest?  Theo. 
Honest.  King. 
I could have used the name of chaste,  
Or virgin; but they carry the same sense;  
Put off thy wonder Theodosia,  
And answer me by both our parents ashes,  
Which now are frighted in the urn, and scarce  
Contained beneath their marble, while their same  
Bleeds in my wounded honour art thou still  
My sister without stain; upon thy chastity  
Tell me and answer truth, for both our lives.  
Nay, nay, there is no time for thy amaze;  
Hast thou not lost thyself and been enjoyed;  
I blush to name the way.  Theo. 
Never.  King. 
Again.  Theo. 
By all the good we hope for I an innocent  
As your own wishes.  King. 
thouart my virtuous sister.  Theo. 
But by your love and all that bound to  
Be just, now let me know my strange accuser.  King. 
Thou shalt know that hereafter; let thy thoughts  
Live in their own peace, and dispute not mine.  Exit. Enter Domitilla. Dom. 
Not speak to me; he frowned too; sure I have not  
Displeased him; wherefore stays the Princess?  Theo. 
Show spirit now or never. Domitilla  
The greatest part of my affliction;  
Let my revenge begin here.  Dom. 
Your grace does honour your unworthy servants;  
And if I might beseech one favour more,  
'tis but to know what has displeased the King.  Theo. 
Must you be of counsel with his passions;  
What hath advanced you to this boldness?  Dom. 
Pardons  
Why does your grace put on those angry looks;  
I never did offend you in a thought.  Theo. 
Cunning dissembler, yes, and 'tis thy death  
Must satisfy; yet ere I give thee punishment  
Tell me what impudence advanced thy thoughts  
So high in our dishonour was there none  
In your own for me of blood fit for your love,  
But you must flatter your prou? hopes with one  
So much above thy birth, though he in frailty  
Consent to make thee great, dar'st thou accept it,  
And with my shame aspire to be his equal;  
Disclaim these hopes, and swear never to love him.  Dom. 
Madam.  Theo. 
Do, or with this I will secure my fears,  
And stand the malice of all other fate.  Dom. 
Hear me.  Theo. 
Be brief.  Dom. 
I know not by what genius prompted Madam,  
To live or die, more happily, I have no  
Fear of your rage, which is so far from making  
Me sin against my love, it has enlarged  
My heart, which trembles not to be loves martyr;  
I can forgive your hand too, if you promise  
To tell the King how willing I die for him.  Theo. 
The King; thou lov'st the Duke.  Dom. 
he's not concerned  
In my affection; I have no thought  
Of any Prince alive, but your own brother;  
Such an example of love's folly have  
My stars decreed me; yet if pride and duty  
May in one action meet and be good friends,  
Both shall assist my last breath which shall offer  
Humbly the King, and his affairs to heaven  
This he will pardon, shall he know it done  
By me more sit to die then live for him.  Theo. 
Alas poor Domitilla; she is wounded  
As deep as I; rise and forgive my jealousy;  
I cannot promise thee to be my sister,  
But I will love thee like one; let us call  
A counsel of our thoughts, and mingle sorrows;  
Yet when we have done all, and tired our breath,  
There is no cure for love, but love or death.  Exeunt. Enter King and Montalto. King. 
How will Montalto counsel me; I am  
Wild with the repetition.  Mont. 
The Duke  
Lay such a black aspersion on your sister;  
'tis blasphemy to honour; but as soon  
He may pollute the Sun beams, or defile  
The dew of heaven ere it approach the earth  
Make us believe the rocks of ice do flame,  
And may endanger the north star; my wonder  
Will make me reason least it throws a poison  
On your whole family, a stain so deep  
And so prodigious, all the blood within  
His Dukedom won't purge it; could he find  
No excuse for his revolt to Domitilla,  
But blasting the sweet Princess.  King. 
Domitilla  
Whom I must tell you I already have  
Prepared to be thy bride, as an addition  
To the reward I owe thy services.  Mont. 
Prepared for me? you are too bountiful  
In you I kneel both to my king and father;  
But my aspiring will be satisfied  
To be your servant still: in your grace I  
Enjoy the burn my heart affects; let me  
Grow old with duties here, and not translate  
My affection till my weary soul throw off  
The burden of my dust.  King. 
No more: in this  
One act, I'll build a monument of my love  
To thee, and my revenge upon the Duke;  
Thou instantly shalt marry Domitilla;  
Her Beauty, Blood and Fortune will deserve thee.  Mont. 
I am your creature, but how this may inflame  
The Duke.  King. 
'tis meant so.  Mont. 
But your sister's fame  
Were worth your first care; this may be done  
With more access of joy when she is righted:  
You have been pleased to hear my counsel Sir  
And not repented.  King. 
What wouldst thou advise me?  Mont. 
The Duke is young and apt to err; you cannot  
Preserve your hospitable Laws to affront  
Him openly, nor will it be thought prudence  
To let lose these suspicions to the descant  
Of people's tongues; th'air is dangerous;  
Let me search the Duke's bosom, for the spring  
Of this dishonour.  King. 
How?  Mont. 
Mistake me not;  
Philoberto is his secret counsellor,  
And the receiver of his thoughts; leave me  
To manage this great work; I have a way  
To every angle of his heart; mean time  
Be pleased to keep your person but retired;  
A silent discontent will fright him more,  
And arm us with full knowledge.  King. 
Wise Montalto,  
I like thy honest counsel, and obey it;  
But lose no time.  Exit. Mont. 
It never was more precious;  
My essence is concerned and every minute  
Brings a fresh siege against Montalto's life;  
There's none but Philoberto conscious  
To my last accusation of the Princess;  
Then he must be removed; delays are fatal;  
I'll poison him tonight; I have the way;  
This done, the Duke may follow, or be bribed  
With Domitilla's person to quit Naples.  Enter Guido, Aloisio, Alexio. Guid. 
My honoured Lord.  Mont. 
Guido, Aloisio;  
Why make I this distinction y'are but one,  
To your Montalto, have one heart and faith;  
Your love and diligence must now be active.  Guid. 
You have deserved us.  Alex. 
Lord of our fortunes.  Guid. 
we are your creatures,  
Bound by all Law and conscience of the court  
To serve your ends.  Mont. 
'tis but to wait close  
And contrive excuses, if the Duke  
Desire access to the King.  Gui. 
This all.  Mont. 
Be careful  
None of his train nor faction be admitted,  
In special Philoberto; if he appear,  
Present my service, and desire to speak with him;  
This is no mighty Province gentlemen  
To waste you much; yet this neglected will  
Destroy my tall fate, in hot fall you must  
Stoop and be strucken dead with the large ruins.  Gui. 
Kill us not first by your suspicion;  
We look upon you as our destiny;  
Prosper as we are faithful.  Mont. 
You divide me.  Alex. 
There is much trouble in his face, howe'er  
Let us be firm; is not this Philoberto.  Enter Riviero. Riv. 
My honoured Lords.  Gui. 
We are proud to be your servants.  
I am yours; where is the Lord Montalto.  Alo. 
New gone from us, and desires to speak with you,  
And is gone either to your lodging or the Dukes.  Rivi. 
I have some affairs with the King, and that  
Dispatched I'll wait upon him.  Gui. 
We are confident  
You will excuse us; we received command  
That none should interrupt him.  Rivi. 
I come from the Duke.  Alo. 
His excellent will construe it our duties.  Riv. 
This was not won.  Alo. 
We dare not sit dispute  
Our master's pleasure.  Gui. 
Perhaps his confessor is with him.  Rivi. 
Perhaps there is some cunning; nay prefer  
The business of the soul, I may presume  
He has no long Catalogue to account for.  Gui. 
You have not been of counsel with his conscience;  
We do not use to limit his devotions.  Rivi. 
'tis picus, and you three by computation  
Montalto's knaves here placed, to keep away  
Discoveries: in spite of all your subtleties,  
The king shall know my mind, and understand  
The history of your patrons and your service;  
Let time speak your reward in your own chronicles.  Alo. 
You not forget my Lord Montalto has  
Desire to speak with him.  Rivi. 
'tis all my business;  
Be careful of your watch and look about you,  
Some we sell may get in else.  Gui. 
Does he jeer us?  Alex. 
Let him; his Embassy is not performed.  Enter Duke, Montalto. Mont, 
You do amaze my understanding Sir  
To require I should justify a tale  
Made to the blemish of so chaste a Lady.  Duke. 
Did not your Lordship tell such a story  
To Philoberto in my lodgings.  Mont. 
I dare his malice, to affront; and 'tis not  
Done like yourself to sully with one breath  
Two sames.  Duke. 
Shall I not credit my own ears?  Mont. 
Dear Sir, collect yourself, and let not passion  
To Domitilla whom you may possess,  
Here after make you so unjust.  Duke. 
Dear Machiavell  
This will not do; the King shall know your stratagems.  Mont. 
Go threaten babes; this would exalt my rage,  
But I remember y'are a guest to Naples,  
Nor would I grieve the genius of my country,  
To place my own revenge above her honour.  Duke. 
Poor shadow.  Mont. 
Now.  Drawes a dagger at the Duke's back. 
'twill not be safe; you know your change.  Exit. Guid. 
We are proud to see your excellence in health.  Duke. 
Where is the King?  Alo. 
A little bustle Sir.  Alex. 
Not yet I think, he is at his prayers.  Duke. 
I'll add to his litany.  Guid. 
It won't need;  
I think his ghostly father can direct him,  
With whom he is in private.  Duke. 
I know not  
How to interpret this; I want Philoberto.  Exit. Enter Octavio. Octav. 
Your grace's  
Servant; he looks displeased.  Guid. 
My Lord Octavio.  Octav. 
Your servant Lords.  Guid. 
You meet the Duke.  Octav. 
His face showed discontent.  Aloi. 
We sum our fortunes in Montalto's smile,  
By whose commands we have denied the Duke  
Access toth' King.  Octav. 
You have done well, it much  
Concerns my Lord; his and all our fate  
Depends upon't; continue still your care  
And circumspection, and while I am within  
Let none be admitted.  Exit. Guid, 
Let us alone;  
A spirit may have the device to enter,  
But if he have so much body as a Gnat  
I'll know his errand; who's this; oh it 'tis  
My Lady Domitilla's Secretary.  Enter Bombo. Bom. 
Here are so many tricks, and turns, and doors  
I'these Court lodgings, I have lost myself.  Guid. 
Mr. Secretary.  Bom. 
'twas you betrayed me to the King, and caused  
My Ladies to be sent for, with more cunning  
To bring me hither; but all's one, he has  
Not seen me yet not sha'not; which  
Is my way out of this labyrinth.  Alo. 
Why are you so unwilling the King should see you?  Guid. 
Or to live in Court; methinks this habit  
Becomes you now; do it not my Lord.  Alex. 
He looks like a true Hero.  Bom. 
You are beside the story Sir; I did read once  
That Hero had no upper lip; she was  
A Lady of Leander's lake.  Guid. 
A wit? there's a new word; now for the Hellespont,  
he'll make a subtle courtier.  Bom. 
It has undone me.  Alo. 
Undone thee how?  Bom. 
I know not whether it be my wit or clothes,  
Or disposition of the place, or all  
Together, but I am sure I am in love,  
I find it by the losing of my stomach;  
I am most strangely in love.  Guid 
With whom?  Bom. 
I know not.  Aloi. 
Can you not guess.  Bom. 
I hope 'tis with myself, for I did vow  
When my first mistress died which was,  Guid. 
What?  Bom. 
A dairy maid that we had i'th' Country,  
To love no living woman 'bove an hour;  
She was the very cream of all her Sex;  
Oft have we churned together.  Guid. 
And drunk healths  
In Buttermilk.  Aloi. 
But do you hope you are in love with yourself Sir.  Bom. 
Marry do I Sir; is that so wonderful at Court.  Guid. 
You are pleasant.  Aloi. 
let's be rid on him.  Guid. 
Come you shall now speak with the King,  
And he shall knight thee; more honours may follow.  Bom. 
You shall excuse me; put your honours  
Upon somebody else.  Guid. 
Do you know what 'tis.  Bom. 
I have not read of late.  Aloi. 
But you are much given to hearing,  
What is honour.  Bom. 
Honour a bubble is that is soon broke,  
A glow-worm seeming fire, but has no smoke.  Aloi. 
There's fire and water.  Bom. 
And smoke for air;  
A painted Sunbeam, piece of gilded Chaff,  
And he that trusts leans to a broken staff.  Gui. 
You should have reconciled the four elements  
To the conceit; there was fire, air, water;  
Where's the earth.  Bom. 
Oh he that leans to a broken staff shall  
Find that presently.  Enter King reading a paper, Octavio. Guid. 
The King.  Bom. 
King be your leave; I vanish.  Exit Bombo. King. 
This paper contains wonder; 'tis not possible.  Octa. 
Upon my life Sir, Philoberto can demonstrate these.  King. 
The Devil has not art  
To abuse us so; this will require some counsel;  Enter Montalto. 
he's here,  
Montalto; leave us.  Exeunt Lords. Mont. 
Sir your pleasure.  King. 
Is all in thee; haste met with Philoberto?  Mont. 
Not yet.  King. 
No matter; I have thought upon't,  
And do conclude it best to let things pass  
Yet in a dream; choice and enquiry may  
Awake suspicion upon innocence.  Mont. 
You cannot think her guilty Sir.  King. 
I am not  
Without some fears; I have collected things  
Since we conferred, that stagger my good thoughts.  Mont. 
Of her you cannot; Sir unthink again,  
whatever would betray her to your jealousy;  
A virgin's Monument cannot be more chaste  
Ith' Temple.  King. 
Yes, yes; we may be all cozened;  
And therefore let her pass among things desperate;  
Yet were I certain she were spotted thus,  
As 'tis but a young Leprosy upon her,  
I could wish heartily my Sister timely  
Married, not to the Duke that would betray us,  
But to some one I know not, who could love  
Us both, so well as be that rare friend  
And save our honours.  Mont. 
Do you then suspect her.  King. 
Oh the Duke's Character had a powerful sense;  
And who knows but she may be lost by one  
Not fit to make her reparation;  
Could any Nobleman be found in Naples  
To bind her wound up by so great an act  
Of secrecy and marriage; but some wind  
May listen and convey, I know not whether,  
What my sad breath has scattered in the air;  
Thy Master has no servant that dares take  
One sorrow from him.  Mont. 
You are Sir provided  
Of more than that can rise to in my service.  King. 
Canst thou be so compassionate to lose  
Thy hopes of richer beauty, for my sake?  
dar'st thou with all this knowledge hide her stain,  
And marry her?  Mont. 
My duty to your Majesty  
Shall marry me to death; let not this trouble  
The quiet of your heart; I'll take Theodosia,  
And think upon her as she had the whiteness  
Of my good Angel.  King. 
thouart a miracle;  
Teach me but which way I may reward this love;  
Till now I had no poverty; thy worth  
Will make me everlastingly in debt;  
What shall I say?  Mont. 
Great Sir, no more; your favours  
Flow from a bounty, which hath only heaven  
Above it.  King. 
They are all trifles; let me see,  
Is nothing in thy power to make thee find  
My gratitude? how barren are we, wealth,  
Honour.  Mont. 
there's nothing good or great you have not  
Freely possessed me with; your favours would,  
So mighty have they fall'n upon me, rather  
Express a storm, and I had sunk beneath  
The welcome violence, had not your love  
From whence they flowed, enabled me to strength  
And manly bearing.  King. 
I was improvident  
To reserve nothing, or it was a fault  
In thee to be so prodigal of merit  
In thy past services; canst thou think of nothing  
Worth my addition.  Mont. 
Nothing Sir.  King. 
I have it,  
And thank my better genius I have it,  
Such a reward Montalto that I dare  
Be modest yet pronounce, never did Prince  
Exceed it to his friend.  Mont. 
Sir you amaze me,  
And shame my want of merit.  King. 
In the title,  
Let Kings peruse the benefit and study  
An imitation to their best loved creatures;  
theyare great as fortune can invent; I'll teach thee  
A way Montalto, to know all thy friends.  
And enemies.  Mont. 
That were a precious knowledge,  
Were it in nature; with your highness' pardon  
The hearts of men are not to be measured  
With what we reach the stars, or fathom Seas;  
Oh he that's active in a state has more.  
Chained to him by the power and strength of office,  
Then genuine respect; and 'tis not worth  
Or person, but the fortunes of a Statesman  
That sometimes men adore.  King. 
'tis true; and therefore  
I am proud in this that I can teach thee look  
Into men's souls, to know 'em fit for scorn, or  
Thy embraces.  Mon. 
How may this Sir be done?  King. 
Almost i'th' twinkling of an eye too.  Mont. 
Strange.  King. 
I seem to frown upon thee.  Mont. 
How Sir?  King. 
Dost apprehend me; I will counterfeit  
That I am displeased with thee; do not mistake me,  
And have it voiced about the Court, thou art  
Consigned, dost mark; at this will all thy enemies  
Whose hearts thou canst not see, their tongues before  
By thy great power silenced, join in faction  
Complain, discover their whole stock of malice,  
Tickling their spleens, that thou art out of favour,  
Whom I shall hear and smile at; then all those  
Whose honest souls deserve thee, will rise up,  
The champions of thy same o'th' other side  
And be so many Orators to make  
Thy faith and honour shine; when this done,  
The scene is changed, I send for thee; thou comest  
With a most glorious train; and then I'll smile,  
Take thee again i'th' sight of all, discover  
'twas but a trick, thy friends keep still thy bosom,  
And thou in triumph shoot'st a scorn with mine  
To strike all envy dumb; Is't not a rate one?  
I cannot do enough for thee Montalto.  Mont. 
You have found out a way I must confess;  
But with your pardon, I shall be more able  
To do: you service in the other ignorance,  
Than ruin a desperate hazard in this knowledge;  
Some hold it sin, and capital enough  
To have the Princess favour, which once lost  
Though but in suspicion; they may rage,  
And like a torrent rise to o'erwhelm nature.  King. 
These sha'not wound thee.  Mont. 
And how other Judges  
May wrest the actions of a man employed  
Though ne'er so faithful to his King and state.  King. 
I am confident of thy justice and decree,  
Thy triumph in't; thy goodness thus conspicuous  
Renders thee loved, and fit for Theodosia  
When she is brightest; the Sun never smiled  
More cheerful upon teeming earth,  
Than I to find thee perfect; for I do  
But seem displeased; come, I will have it so;  
If thou dost love me, no dispute, but let me  
Pursue my fancy meant to do thee honour.  
Who waits?  Enter Lords. 
Now it begins;  
Attend my Lord Montalto to his Chamber,  
Where our will is, he be cozened until  
Our pleasure further known.  Guid. 
How's this?  Alex. 
Aloi. Consigned!  King. 
No ceremony Sir; when that's done,  
We ease you of the trouble too of waiting;  
You know the way my Lords to your own lodgings,  
From whence on peril of our anger stir not  
Until we send for you— Octavio.  Guid. 
Do we not dream.  Mont. 
Something would creep  
Like a dead sleep upon me; I am in  
A Labyrinth; but hence with coward fear;  
I know the worst; grim death can but translate  
Me hence, and there's an end of death and fate.   

The fift Act.  Simphorosa, Theodosia, Domitilla. Theo. 
He comforted and counselled Domitilla;  
I have my part in love's affliction.  Sim. 
This I feared  Enter jacamo. 
I must acquaint the King; where is your fellow  
Bombo? his mirth might now be seasonable.  Iaca. 
he's gone Madam.  Sim. 
Gone, whither?  Iaca. 
Back to the country house; he heard of my Lord  
Montalto's disgrace, and the fear of his supplying  
The place of a favourite, sent him away this morning  
With all his movables; the country he says  
Is wholesome, where he will die without fear or wit when  
His time comes; he durst not stay to see the King.  Exit Iaca. Sim. 
Would we had still been strangers to the Court;  
Leave us; my daughter is much bound to your grace.  Dom. 
It is the King you speak of; pray be careful  
You speak all goodness of him, he deserves it,  
And will when I am dead.  Sim. 
I'll lose no time.  Exit. Theo. 
I wish it prosper.  Dom. 
I dare not say the King dissembles with me;  
That were a fault beyond my love; but sure  
Something he said that made my heart believe  
He did not mean me for another; and  
Montalto, whose reward I must be thought,  
Is now consigned, and under his displeasure.  Theo. 
He will have more care of his honour then  
To place thee so unworthily; Montalto  
Has played the cunning traitor with our loves,  
If I may trust thee noble Philoberto  
That told me the whole story of his falsehood,  
Which I before suspected.  Dom. 
And if he should despise me as 'tis justice,  
Will heaven be angry if I love him still;  
Or will the King call it a treason in me?  
If he do, I can willingly die for't,  
And with may last words pray he may live happy;  
But why am I this trouble to your grace?  
My story is not worth one of your minutes;  
Dear Madam pardon me, and teach me how  
To make my time more happy, spent in something  
That may concern your highness; you do love too.  Enter jacamo. Iaca. 
Madam, the Duke of Florence.  Theo. 
How the Duke?  Dom. 
Why does he visit me? Madam indeed  
You may believe I love him not.  Theo. 
Admit him  
I prithee, and conceal me Domitilla;  
I know he comes a-wooing to thy beauty;  
I prithee let me hear the second part:  Exit. Dom. 
I shall against my own desires obey you.  Enter Duke. Duke. 
The ambition of my eyes can not be thought  
Immodest, if they ever wish to dwell here;  
They have found their light again; let no misfortune  
Be a second cause to bury me in darkness.  Dom. 
Your grace's pardon, if my haste to attend  
The King and his commands made me appear  
Rude when I left your excellence.  Duke. 
This does more  
Than satisfy.  Dom. 
I know not how I may  
Stand guilty in your thoughts by keeping a  
Rich Caskanet.  Duke. 
You honoured me to accept it.  Dom. 
But with a blush I must remember too  
I did not thank you; there was want of time  
Or manners; I must leave it to your mercy,  
And would by any duty to your grace  
Expiate my error.  Duke. 
Madam it is not worth  
The mention of this gratitude; Your breath  
Makes the oblation rich, and me who am  
Encouraged by your virtue, to present you  
With something of more value, than a world  
Of these poor empty glories; I dare give you  
My heart Madam.  Dom. 
Bless your grace from such a meaning.  Duke. 
Can you be cruel to it?  Dom. 
I ne'er had  
The confidence to look upon a wound;  
And such a bleeding object as your heart  
Would fright my senses.  Duke. 
You are more ingenious  
Than not to understand that I mean love;  
I love you Madam, best of all your sex.  Dom. 
You cannot Sir, you dare not.  Duke. 
How?  Dom. 
You dare not be so wicked I am am sure  
When you remember, what you are, a Prince.  Duke. 
Is it a sin for Princes to love Madam?  Dom. 
Or if you could dispense with so much passion  
To love me, and durst give me, what I tremble  
To think you promise, that, that very act  
In which you most advance affection to me,  
Would make me think you love me not.  Duke. 
Be clearer.  Dom. 
How should I think his courtship worth my trust,  
And meet him with a real change of hearts,  
Who in his very first attempt of love,  
Would blast my honour, and betray me to  
A shame, black as the tongue of infamy.  Duke. 
Would I?  Dom. 
And more;  
For you in this  
Would tempt me to an act, by which I should  
Not only wound myself to death of honour,  
But make me guilty of another's blood,  
And kill an innocent Lady, whose least tear  
Is worth a thousand lives of perjured men  
That make a scorn of virtue.  Duke. 
What Lady?  Dom. 
Have you forgot the Princess Sir?  Duke. 
The Princess!  Dom. 
In that name you'll find yourself again  
Lost in a mist of passions; oh think  
The fames and hopes of two rich countries are  
Engaged upon your faith; your highness' pardon,  
I find some blushes chide my too much boldness,  
And by a nearer view now of your goodness,  
I see my error to believe you meant  
Other than trial of me, or could fall  
To any thought beneath your birth and honour.  Duke. 
But if Theodosia be made another's  
By her own gift, and I at large, with what  
Justice may I be thought then to address  
My passions hither.  Dom. 
If the Princess, which  
I must not think, give your heart back again,  
And that you could quit all your ties with honour,  
My thoughts are all resigned to the Kings will;  
He must dispose of me, by my own vow,  
Without his free consent never to marry.  Exit. Duke. 
The King; there 'tis; I thought she was his mistress;  
'tis not possible the Princess now  
Can pardon my neglect; Montalto's practice  
Upon me, and his poisoning of her virtue  
Won't excuse my shame; I dare not see  
Whom I have injured, Theodosia;  
In am resolved, this night I'll steal from Naples.  Enter Theodosia. Theo. 
Nay do not hide your face my Lord; it will  
Appear as fresh and lovely to my eyes,  
As when it first presented me your smiles;  
I am Theodosia still.  Duke. 
But I have been?  Theo. 
Abused; time will discover to the ruin  
Of his own name, and glory of our loves,  
Montalto's practice to divide our sonleses.  Duke. 
You cannot be so merciful; or else  
This sweetness is put on to enlarge my guilt,  
When we are both compared; dare you believe  
I can repent and be revenged.  Theo. 
Upon whom?  Duke. 
Upon myself, for suffering my eyes  
To wander from this sweetness.  Theo. 
You outdo  
The satisfaction; if your grace can find  
Me grow again within your heart, where first  
My love desired to plant.  Duke. 
Oh let me drown  
My blushes in this over slow of charity;  
But there's an act that justice calls me to,  
Before I can be worthy of this peace.  
Montalto has played the villain; now I find it,  
And from his treacherous heart my sword must force  
A bloody satisfaction for thy honour,  
Poisoned by him.  Theo. 
Stay that revenge; shame has  
Already sunk him.  Enter a Courtier. Court. 
Sir the King desires  
Some conference with your grace, and with you Madam.  Theo. 
I shall attend you Sir; we shall present  
Together, thus no object to displease him.  Duke. 
Though I shall blush to see him, I'll wait on you.  Exeunt. Enter King, Riviero, Andrugio; Petitioners. King. 
Good heaven, upon what humane bosom shall  
We that are made your substitutes on earth  
Place secure confidence? and yet there may  
Be malice in complaints; the flourishing Oak  
For his extent of Branches, stature, growth,  
The darling and the Idol of the wood,  
Whose awful nod the under trees adore,  
Shaken by a tempest, and thrown down must need  
Submit his curled head and full grown limbs,  
To every common Axe, be patient, while  
the tortures put to every joint the Saws  
and engines, making with their very noise  
the forest's groan and tremble; but not one  
When it was in his strength and state reviled it,  
Whom poverty of soul, and envy sends  
To gather sticks from the trees wished for rheum,  
The great man's Emblem; I did love Montalto,  
And wed not have him lost if justice would  
Consent, and be a little of his side;  
But here are the two plummets weigh him down;  
His impious practice on the Duke, and base  
Aspersions on our sister that defame  
Our whole blood, is a loud, loud accusation.  Rivi. 
His conscience dares not Sir deny't.  King. 
And you  
Speak here the tragic story of Riviero,  
Whose honest soul for not complying with  
His power and ends, chose in a discontent  
To make himself an exile, ye pursued,  
And by the practice of Montalto poisoned  
At Rome.  Andr. 
This letter sent to Alvarez,  
Whose treacherous Physic purged his soul away,  
Is too much testimony.  King. 
'tis his Character.  Enter Octavio. 
Octavio you come for justice too.  Octav. 
It were a vain breath to desire it Sir;  
Your thoughts are still so conscious of virtue,  
They will prevent petition.  King. 
Come nearer.  Rivi. 
The King is troubled.  Andr. 
Where he loved, to find  
So much ingratitude.  King. 
Andrugio.  Rivi. 
Things are not yet mature for my discovery.  King. 
You observe— away—  Exit Andr. Octav. 
We may be just Philoberto,  
Yet not destroy another attribute,  
Which shows whose representative we are;  
Mercy becomes a King; too much can be  
But thought a sin on the right hand; we are  
Resolved.  Enter Simphorosa. 
Madam you are welcome.  Rivi. 
I begin  
To fear there is some spell upon the King;  
If after this Montalto shall prevail,  
Let innocence be stronger to the world,  
And heaven be afraid to punish vice.  King. 
Remove  
For a few minutes.  Rivi. 
I obey.  King. 
You tell me wonders Madam; 'las poor Lady,  
I shall then have enough to reconcile;  
She was too hasty to interpret me  
Her lover.  Sim. 
If you Sir apply no cure,  
The fond impression may I fear endanger  
Her sense and life; I urged Montalto Sir  
By your command, before his change of fortune,  
But she took no delight to hear him named.  King. 
No, no, nor I; good heaven how I am troubled  
How to repair this pretty piece of innocence,  
Whom I have brought into a waking dream  
Of passion; something I must do; pray tell me,  
But tell me truth; I charge thee by thy duty  
To me, to Naples, and to heaven, or if  
There be in woman's faith, or thy Religion  
Any thing else to make it up a full  
And perfect conjuration.  Sim. 
You fright me;  
Without these not a thought within my heart  
But you have power to summon.  King. 
Tell me then,  
Is Domitilla virtuous?  Sim. 
How Sir?  King. 
Is she exceeding virtuous; is she most  
Divinely chaste; can she do more than blush  
At wanton sounds; will she be very angry  
At an immodest offer, and be frighted  
To hear it named; tell me; does she pray  
And weep, and would be torn upon the rack  
Ere she consent to stain one virgin thought:  
Or dares she more than Lucrece kill herself  
To save her honour, or do something more  
Miraculously than all this to preserve  
Her white name to posterity.  Sim. 
I know not  
How to reply to these particulars;  
But if your meaning be to have me speak  
Truth of her modest and pare thoughts, she is  
All that her mother can beseech of heaven  
To bless a child with of so chaste a soul,  
And virtuous simplicity.  King. 
No more;  
I do believe, and will find out a way  
To make her satisfaction; 'tis just;  
Say I desire her presence.  Sim. 
Now you bless us;  
A widow's prayers and tears for this great bounty.  Exit. Enter Riviero. Rivi. 
Your sister and the Duke Sit.  King. 
There's new trouble.  Rivi. 
Never so lovingly united;  
The pleasant language of their eyes and gestures  
Doth speak their hearts at peace.  King. 
That would rejoice me.  Enter Duke, Theodosia. Theo. 
Take us to your love;  
All jealousies are banished, and we both  
Breath from one soul.  King. 
My wonder and my joy.  Duke. 
Your pardon.  King. 
Take my bosom.  Theo. 
The misfortune  
Kept us at distance, was your creature's act.  King. 
The clouds are now removed.  Rivi. 
Lord Montalto, Sir.  King. 
Let Music speak  
His dear approach; we sent for him.  Rivi. 
How's this:  King. 
Let me entreat you to obscure your persons  
A while.  Exit Duke, Theodosia. Loud Music— Enter Guido, Aloisio, Alexio, Andrugio, Octavio, Montalto. King. 
My Lord y'are welcome to us, very welcome  
We have kept our word, and find you have not lost  
Your confidence; what a brave armour is  
An innocent soul? How like a cock it bids  
Defiance to a storm, against whose ribs  
The insolent waves, but dash themselves in pieces,  
And fall and hide their heads in passionate foam,  
How would a guilty person tremble now,  
Look pale, and with his eyes chained to the ground  
Betray his fear of justice.  Mont. 
Where should honour  
Shine with his pure and native lustre but  
Where there is such a King, so good, so great,  
The example and reward; he must be  
A rebel twice to virtue that can live  
To be convinced of a dishonour near  
Such an instructive goodness.  King. 
Where be all his fierce accusers?  
Call 'em to his presence,  
Whom all their envies would destroy.  Rivi. 
So, so;  
The King is charmed.  Octav. 
They are gone upon the first  
News of my Lords return they vanished Sir.  Mont. 
So may all reason fly the brow of innocence:  King. 
'tis well said; but they sha' not fly their names;  
Read there just to our thoughts, they apprehended  
Thee lost in our displeasure (where's our sister)  
And now they came to be revenged Montalto,  
Upon our favours.  Guid. 
Right, and please your grace.  King. 
There's something may concern your want of grace  
Andrugio, Philoberto.  Gives them papers. Mont. 
We are undone Guido, and I see more  
Engines are levelled at my fate.  Rivi. 
The King would have your Lordship peruse this.  Andr. 
And these.  Rivi. 
That you may know your friends and enemies.  Mont. 
Lost, lost for ever.  Rivi. 
Sir you know  
You have obliged the Princess Theodosia  
And the Duke to you, and you may presume  
To use their favours, they are here.  Enter Duke, Theodosia. Mont. 
'twere better  
For me they had no being. I did never  
Expect this; to accuse me for the death  
Of Riviero; but I must obey  
This fatal revolution.  King. 
Why does Montalto kneel.  Mont. 
I dare not ask your pardon,  
Only I beg you would put on a brow  
Rough as the cause you have to make it frown,  
And that may strike me dead without more torment.  King. 
Ingrateful man? am I rewarded thus,  
Not only with my faith abused and subjects,  
But wounding all our honours.  Theo. 
Let him find your mercy Sir  
For his offence to me.  Enter Simphorosa, Domitilla. King. 
I must not, dare not pardon; 'twere a sin  
In me of violence to heaven and justice.  Mont. 
You have been a Royal Master.  King. 
Take him hence;  
His life will draw a scorn upon the Kingdom;  
Expect the censure of our laws you gentlemen;  
We only banish from the court.  Gui. Aloi. Alex. 
You are merciful.  King. 
Pray and be honest.  Rivi. 
That last will be the greatest penance to 'em.  King. 
My passion would be strong but here is one  
Come to divert the stream; how is it with  
My pretty Domitilla; you and I  
May change some words in private.  Octav. 
The King is just, and 'tis within your silence  
To make Montalto nothing.  Rivi. 
He will sink  
Apace without that weight upon him; malice  
Shall have no share in my revenge.  King. 
And since Montalto  
Is become incapable,  
I won't marry thee; that's a thing too common?  
But thou shalt be my mistress, a preferment  
Above my first intention; be wise  
And entertain it; oh the days and nights  
we'll spend together.  Octav. 
The King's very pleasant  
With Domitilla.  King. 
Come kiss me  
Domitilla; kiss me now  
Before all these; what needs this modesty;  
Come let us take in one another's soul.  Dom. 
Are you the King of Naples.  King. 
So they call me,  
And if there be a power within that name  
It shall be thine to make thee glorious,  
And great above our Queen; there is no title  
like unto that our heat and blood creates  
A mistress Domitilla.  Dom. 
Are you Sir in earnest?  King. 
Do but thou consent, and I  
Will give thee such a proof in my embraces  
Of the delight; they will not follow us;  
I'll tell thee more i'th' bedchamber.  Dom. 
I dare  
Not understand this language, can the King  
Be impious; how was my opinion cozened  
Sin hath deformed his very shape; his voice  
Hath now no harmony.  King. 
This is but to draw  
More courtship from me.  Dom. 
Pardon I beseech you;  
I have found my error.  King. 
Will she yield?  Dom. 
I did consent  
Too soon to my captivity,  
Though modesty would not allow me strength  
To tell you so; but you have Sir, by what  
My fond thoughts never did expect, relieved me,  
to make me know myself; and now preserving  
That duty which I owe you as my King,  
I call love back again, and can look on  
Your lusts with a becoming scorn.  King. 
You can.  Dom. 
Yes, and were Naples, Rome, and all the wealth  
Of Italy laid down, the great temptation,  
Thus I would spurn their glories.  King. 
Come this is but the trick of all your sex;  
We know you can dissemble appetite,  
As if you were not flesh and blood.  Dom. 
Sir give  
Me leave to go while I have power to pray for you,  
Where was I lost? is there no friend to goodness;  
Have I contracted such a leprous form  
That I have lost all men's defence and charity.  Octav. 
Madam your innocence doth raise in me,  
Though young, a willing champion, and with  
My safe obedience to the King, I dare,  
Armed with the witness of her cause, defy  
The greatest soldier in the world.  King. 
How's this?  Octav. 
Sir, in a noble cause, if you to whom  
In the first place truth flies as to an Altar,  
Wave her religious defence I dare die for her.  King. 
You so brave? to prison with him;  
We will correct your sauciness.  Octav. 
You will grace  
My first act Sir, and get me same by suffering  
For so much sweetness.  Dom. 
Let not your displeasure  
Great Sir fall upon him; revenge what you  
Call disobedience here.  King. 
You owe much to  
His confidence; nor is there any punishment  
Beyond your love and liking of his boldness;  
You two should make a marriage with your follies.  Octav. 
Let Domitilla make Octavio  
So blessed.  Dom. 
My Lord you now deserve I should  
Be yours whom with the hazard of the king's  
Anger, and your own life you have defended;  
There is a spring of honour here, and too it  
i'th' presence of the King, his Court and Heaven,  
I dare now give my heart; nor is't without  
My duty to a promise.  Octav. 
Now you make  
Octavio happy.  King. 
'tis to my desires,  
and I dare wish you joys; forgive this practice;  
Nay pretty Domitilla I did this  
But to divert more happily thy thoughts  
of me, who have not paid yet the full tribute  
To my Cesaria's dust; again let me  
Congratulate thy choice in young Octavio,  
Whose birth and forward virtue will deserve thee;  
Brother and sister love, and wish them happiness.  
Theo. May all joys spring within their hearts.  
Duke. I must present this gentleman to be more known to you  
Octav. I hope you are no enemy to this blessing.  
Sim. I add what doth become a most glad mother,  
blessing to your loves.  King. 
Noble Riviero.  Rivi. 
I live again by your acknowledgement.  Duke. 
Sir you may trust my testimony; Alvarez  
Letter is now an argument of his safety,  
Who is yet living to increase the guilt  
Of false Montalto.  King. 
Welcome; 'tis thy life  
That hath reversed Montalto's doom, whose sentence  
Now shall be only banishment; our hearts  
Are full and sprightly; nothing wants but to  
Perfect with holy ceremony, what  
Your hearts have sealed; mirth in each bosom flows,  
Distraction never had so sweet a close.  
FINIS.    

THE epilogue.  

our Poet doth forget his Play;  
There is something he would pay  
Due to your greatness, and the day  
Which by a revolution of the sphere  
Is proud to open the New year.  
And having looked on you, hath hid his face,  
And Changed his robe with Stars to grace  
And light you going to bed, so wait  
With trembling Lustre on your state.   

Shine brighter yet, y'are not the same  
Clear Lamps you were shine like the name  
Of him I bow too, while aflame  
Active, and burning here with pure desires  
Shall equal the best borrowed fires.  
May health, the bosom's friend, stream through your blood,  
And know no ebb of the chaste flood,  
And though time shift, and years renew,  
May yet the Spring be still in you.   

May She, whom heaven hath sweetly graced  
And in your noble bosom placed,  
Whose heart by only yours embraced,  
Hath made one true, and holy Gordian, prove  
Fruitful in Children, as in love.  
And may this fair Top-branch, whose early bloom  
Doth promise all the fruit can come  
To virtue, and your name be blessed,  
And live a story to the rest.   

All Honour with your fame in crease,  
In your bosom dwell soft peace,  
And justice, the true root of these;  
Wealth be the worst, and out side of your fate;  
And may not heaven your life translate,  
Till for your Royal Master, and this I'll,  
Your deeds have filled a Chronicle,  
In all that's great, and good, be bold,  
And every year be copy of the old.   
FINIS.