St. PATRICK FOR IRELAND. The first Part.  
Written by James Shirley.  
LONDON, Printed by J. Raworth, for R. Whitaker. 1640.   

The Prologue.  

WE know not what will take, your palates are  
Various, and many of them sick I fear:  
We can but serve up what our Poets dress,  
And not considering cost, or pains to please;  
We should be very happy, if at last,  
We could find out the humour of your taste,  
That we might fit, and feast it, so that you  
Were constant to yourselves, and kept that true;  
For some have their opinions so displeased,  
They come not with a purpose to be pleased:  
Or like some birds that leave the flowery fields,  
They only stoop at that corruption yields.  
It were a custom would less stain the times,  
To praise the virtues, when you chide the crimes.  
This is but cold encouragement, but we  
Hope here are few of those, or if there be,  
We wish 'em not infectious, nor confine  
We censures; would each soul were masculine:  
For your own sakes we wish all hear today,  
Knew but the art and labour of a Play;  
Than you would value the true muse's pain,  
The throws and travel of a teeming brain.  
But we have no despair, that all here may  
Be friends, and come with candour to this Play.  
St. Patrick whose large story cannot be  
Bound in the limits of one Play, if ye  
First welcome this, you'll grace our poet's art,  
And give him Courage for a second part.    

The names of the Actors.  

Leogarius, Monarch of Ireland..  


his Sons.  
Corybreus,  
Conallus    
Dichu, A Nobleman.  


his Sons.  
Ferochus,  
Endarius,    
Milcho, A great Officer.  
Archimagus, The chief Priest, a Magician.  
Two other Priests.  
St. Patrick.  
Victor, his angel-guardian.  
Bards.  
Rodamant, Archimagus' Servant.  
soldiers.  
Angels.  
Religious men.  
Servants.  
Queen.  


her Daughters.  
Ethne,  
Fedella,    
Emeria, Milcho's Daughter.    

Act. I.  Enter Archimagus, and two other Magicians, at several doors. 1. 
WE are undone.  2. 
We are lost.  Ar. 

Not so, your fears  
Become you not, great Priests of Jove and Saturn;  
Shall we that awe we the furies, at whose charm  
Hell itself quakes, be frighted with a shadow,  
A tame, a naked Churchman and his tribe  
Of austere starved faces? no, this Kingdom  
Shall still be ours, and flourish, every Altar  
Breathe incense to our gods, and shine with flames,  
To strike this Christian blind.   1. 

This is but air,  
He is now landing, every tread he prints  
Upon this earth, will make it groan.   Ar. 

Are not  
The havens strengthened by the Kings command  
With soldiers, to watch that none arrive  
With this suspicion.   2 

But we that can  
Command armies from hell for our design,  
And blast him, now stand idle, and benumbed,  
And shall grow here ridiculous statues, I'll  
Muster my friends.   1. 

And if I ha' not lost  
My power, the Spirits shall obey to drown  
This straggler, and secure this threatened Island.   Ar. 

Stay, which of you can boast more power than I?  
For every Spirit you command, my spells  
Can raise a legion; you know I can  
untenant hell, dispeople the wide air,  
Where like innumerous atoms the black genij  
Hover, and nestle one another, all  
That haunt the woods and waters, all i'th' dark  
And solitary chambers of the earth,  
Break through their Adamantine chains, and fly  
Like Lightning to my will, and shall your factious  
And petty correspondence with the fiends,  
Attempt this work without my voice and counsel?  
Who brought you first acquainted with the devil?  
Did not my Art?   1 

We are disciples to  
The Great Archimagus.   2. 

We acknowledge all  
Our Art derived from you.   1. 

But in this justice to our gods, we hope  
Our gods chief Priest will give us leave—   Ar. 

Yes, and confirm it, and applaud your zeals,  
My fellows both in sacred Arts and Priesthood.  
Go on, I praise your resolution:  
My Spirit gave intelligence before  
Of his approach, and by all circumstance,  
Our prophecy doth point this Christian Priest  
The black subversion of our Isle, but we  
Like masters of all destiny, will break  
His fate, and bruise him in his Infancy  
Of danger to this Kingdom, fly and be  
'Armed to your wishes; Spirits shall attend you,  
And the whole power of hell. Exeunt Magicians.  
This news affrights me,  
howe'er I seem to swell with confidence,  
This is the man, and this the revolution,  
Fixed for the change of sacrifice foretold,  
And threatened in this fatal prophecy.   

A man shall come into this Land,  
With shaven Crown, and in his hand  
A crooked Staff, he shall command,  
And in the East his table stand;  
From his warm lips a stream shall flow,  
To make rocks melt, and Churches grow,  
Where while be sings, our gods shall bow,  
And all our kings his law allow.   He reads 
This, this is the vexation.  Enter Endarius. End. 
Sir, the King.  Ar. 
What of the King?  End. 
Is troubled, sick, distracted.  Ar. 
How?  End. 

With a dream; he has no peace within him;  
You must with all haste visit him, we shall  
Suspect his death else.   Enter Ferochus. Fer. 

Mighty Priest, as you  
Respect the safety of the King, you must  
Make haste, the Court is up in arms, and he  
Calls for his sword.   Ar. 

You fright me gentlemen:  
Rebellion in the Court, who are the Traitors?   Fer. 

His own wild thoughts, and apprehension  
Of what, he says, was in his sleep presented,  
He calls upon his Guard, and rails upon 'em,  
When they appear with no more arms, and swears  
That every man shall wear a Tun of Iron.   End. 
The Prince.  Enter Conallus. Con. 

The King impatient of your absence, Sir,  
Hath left the Court, and by some few attended  
Is coming hither, laden with fear and weapons;  
He talks of strange things in his dream, and frights  
Our ears with an invasion, that his Crown  
Sits trembling on his head, unless your wisdom  
Clear his dark fears, we are undone.   Arc. 
He's here.  Enter King Leogarius, Corybreus Dichu. 
How fares the King?  Leo. 

Dear Archimagus,  
We want thy skill to interpret a black dream  
I had last night, my fancy is still sick on't,  
And with the very apprehension  
I feel much of my soul dissolve, and through  
My frighted pores, creep from me in a sweat:  
I shall have nothing in me but a bath,  
Unless thou do repair my languishing essence  
With thy great art and counsel.   Arc. 

Give me, Sir,  
The particular of your dream.   Leo. 

They must not hear it,  
Yet stay; the Eclipse, if it be any thing,  
Is universal, and doth darken all.  
methought, Archimagus, as I was praying  
I'th' Temple near the sea, my Queen, my Sons,  
Daughters, and Train of my Nobility  
Prostrate before the Altar, on the sudden  
The roof did open, and from Heaven a flame  
Descending on the images of our gods,  
Began to burn the sacred brows, from which  
Many deformed worms, and hideous serpents  
Come crawling forth, and leapt unto our throats,  
Where, with their horrid circles and embrace,  
We were almost strangled: in this fright, methought  
We fled out of the Temple, and as soon  
We saw a pale man coming from the sea,  
Attended by a Tribe of reverend men,  
At whose approach the Serpents all unchained  
Themselves, and leaving our imprisoned necks,  
Crept into the earth, straight all that were with me,  
As I had been the prodigy, forsook me,  
My wife, my children, Lords, my servants all,  
And fled to this pale man, who told me, I  
Must submit too, humble myself to him,  
This withered piece of man: at which, methought,  
I felt a trembling shoot through every part,  
And with the horror, thus to be deposed,  
I wakened. Now, Archimagus, thy Art  
To cure thy soul-sick King.   Arc. 
'Tis done already.  Leo. 
How, my dear Priest?  Arc. 

This pale thing shall not trouble you,  
He that so long was threatened to destroy  
Us and our Gods, is come.   Leo. 
Ha, where?  Arc. 

Now landing:  
But were the coasts unguarded, he wants power  
To fight with those etherial troops, that wait  
Upon the Gods we serve. He is now dying,  
This minute they have blasted him: and they,  
Above the speed of wings, are flying hither  
With the glad news, be calm again, and let not  
These airy dreams distract your peace.   Leo. 

They are vanished  
Already at thy voice, thou (next our Gods  
The hope of this great Island) hast dispersed  
All clouds, and made it a fair sky again,  
My learned Archimagus.   Enter Spirits. 1. 
He is come.  2. 
He's come.  3. 
And we must fly.  Leo. 

What voices make the air  
So sad?   Cor. 
They strike a horror.  Con. 
They are Spirits.  Arc. 
I command once more to oppose him.  1. 
In vain, great Priest.  2. 
We must away.  3. 
Away.  Omnes. 
We cannot, dare not stay.  Exeunt. Enter, Angel Victor, bearing a banner with a cross, St. Patrick and other Priests in procession singing. Leo. 

What harmony is this? I have no power  
To do them harm, observe their ceremony.   

Ode.  
Post maris savi fremitus jernae  
(Navitas coelo tremulos beante)  
Uidimus gratum jubar enatantes  
littus inaurans   

Montium quin vos juga, vosque sylvo  
Nunc salutamus, chorus advenarum  
Jubilum retrò modulantur, Ecce  
Carbasa ventis   

Dulce supremo melòs occinanus  
Carminum flagrans Domino litamen  
Cujus erranti dabitur popello  
Numine sacrum.   Leo. 

I'll speak to him. Stay, you that have presumed  
Without our leave, to print your desperate foot  
Upon our Country; say, what bold design  
Hath armed you with this insolent noise, to dare  
And fright the holy peace of this fair I'll;  
Nay, in contempt of all our gods, advance  
Your songs in honour of an unknown power?  
The King commands you speak.   Patr. 

Unto that title  
Thus we all bow; it speaks you are allied  
To Heaven, great Sir, we come not to distract  
Your peace, look on your number, we bring no  
Signs of stern war, no invasive force to draw  
Fear, or suspicion, or your frowns upon us:  
A handful of poor naked men we are,  
Thrown on your Coast, whose arms are only prayer,  
That you would not be more unmerciful  
Than the rough seas, since they have let us live  
To find your charity.   Leo. 
Whence are you?  Patr. 
We are of Britain, Sir.  Leo. 
Your name, that answer for the rest so boldly?  Patr. 

My name is Patrick, who with these poor men  
Beseech you would permit.   Leo. 

No dwelling here,  
And therefore quit this Kingdom speedily,  
Or you shall curse you saw the land.   Dic. 
Are they not Spies?  Arc. 

A whirlwind snatch'em hence, and on the back  
Of his black wings transport these fugitives,  
And drop their cursed-heads into the sea,  
Or land'em in some cold remotest wilderness  
Of all the world, they must not here inhabit.   Dic. 
Hence, or we'll force you with these goads.  Cor. 

Unless  
You have a mind to try how well your hoods  
Can swim, go trudge back to your rotten bark,  
And steer another course.   Fer. 

You will find Lands  
Peopled with squirrels, Rate, and Crows, and coneys,  
Where you may better plant, my reverend Moles.   End. 
Faces about.  Pat. 

You are inhospitable,  
And have more flinty bosoms than the rocks  
That bind your shores, and circle your fair Island:  
But I must not return.   Leo. 
How?  Arc. 
How?  Pat. 

Till I have  
Performed my duty: Know great King, I have  
Commission for my stay, I came not hither  
Without command, legate from him, before  
Whose angry breath the rocks do break and thaw;  
To whose nod the mountains humble their proud heads,  
The earth, the water, air and heaven is his,  
And all the stars that shine with evening flames,  
Show but their trembling when they wait on him:  
This supreme Kings command I have obeyed,  
Who sent me hither to bring you to him,  
And this still wandering nation, to those springs  
Where souls are everlastingly refreshed;  
Unto those gardens, whose immortal flowers  
Stain your imagined shades, and blessed abodes.   Leo. 
What place is this?  Pat. 

Heaven; now a great way off.  
But not accessible to those permit  
Their precious souls be strangled thus with mists,  
And false opinion of their gods.   Arc. 
No more.  Pat. 

I must say more in my great Master's cause,  
And tell you in my dreams, he hath made me hear  
From the dark wombs of mothers, prisoned infants  
Confessing how their parents are misled,  
And calling me thus far to be their freedom.  
Have pity on yourselves, be men, and let not  
A blind devotion to your painted gods.—   Dic. 

He does blaspheme. Accept me, Jove, thy Priest,  
And this my sacrifice. Ha, mine arms grow stiff,  
I feel an ice creeping through all my blood,  
There's winter in my heart, I change o'th' sudden  
Am grown a statue, every limb is marble;  
Ye gods take pity on me, in your cause  
I wither thus; Jove, if thou hast a lightning,  
Bestow some here, and warm me.   Cor. 
Strange!  End. 
Father! Brother, if he should die now?  Fer. 

I am his eldest son, he shall find me reasonable,  
He may do worse, considering how long I have been of age.   Dic. 

No power let fall compassion. I have  
Offended. Whom? I know not, this good man  
Forgive, and if the Deity thou servest  
Can put a life into this frozen pile,  
Pray for me.   Leo. 

Villain, wouldst thou owe thy life  
To the mercy of the power he serves,   Arc. 

Wish rather  
To rot for ever thus.   Leo. 

And if thou diest,  
I'll build a Temple here, and in this posture  
Kings shall kneel to thee, and on solemn days  
Present their crowns; Queens shall compose thee garlands,  
Virgins shall sing thy name, and 'bout thy neck  
And arms disperse the riches of their Art,  
Next to our Gods we honour thee: keep from  
The Impostor.   Cor. 
I have no meaning to come near him.  Pat. 

Give me thy hand: now move, and may thy heart  
Find softness too, this mercy is the least  
Of my great Masters treasures.   Dic. 

I feel my heat  
Returned, and all my rocky parts grow supple,  
Let the first use I make of their restore, be  
To bend my knees to you.   Pat. 

Bow them to him  
That gave me power to help thee.   Fer. 
He is well again.  Dic. 

I find a beam let into my dark soul,  
Oh take me to your faith, here I give back  
myself to serve your god.   Leo. 

Traitorous to heaven!  
Come from him.   Dic. 
Bid my haste forsake a blessing.  End. 
Father.  Dic. 
Call this good man your father, Boys.  Arc. 

H 's mad, and I am frantic at this base  
Apostasy. My Lord think how you may  
Provoke our gods, and the King anger.   Pat. 

Fear  
His wrath that made, and can let fall the world.   Fer. 

He may yet do me as great a courtesy  
As dying comes too, if his error hold,  
And the king's anger.   Leo. 

Dotard,  
Return; and prostrate to the gods we worship,  
Or though his witchcraft now protect thyself,  
Thy sons shall bleed.   Fer. 
How's that?  Leo. 

To satisfy  
The gods and us, with the next morning's Sun,  
Unless thou rise, and sacrifice to our Altars,  
Down from that Rock which over looks the Sea,  
They shall be thrown; my vow is fixed.   Fer. 
Dear father.  Leo. 
Take them away, their fate depends on him.  Dic. 
Oh, I am lost.  Pat. 
Thou art found.  Dic. 
Forsake me not, poor boys! my prayers and blessing.  Pat. 

Set forward now in heaven's name,  
And finish our procession.   Exeunt. Leo. 

Death pursue 'em,  
Will nothing make them feel our wrath.   Co. 

The charm  
Will not last always.   Arc. 

I heir fate is not yet ripe,  
Be not dejected, Sir, the gods cannot  
Be patient long. Mean time let me advise,  
Not by your Laws, or other open force,  
To persecute'em; but disguise your anger.   Leo. 
Ha?  Arc. 

What matter is't, so we destroy these wretches  
What ways we take? invite him to your Court,  
Pretend, I know not what desires, to hear  
More of his faith, that you find turns within  
Your heart, and tremble at the miracle  
Wrought upon Dichu; when he's in your possession  
A thousand stratagems may be thought upon  
To send his giddy soul most quaintly off to  
That fine fantastical reward he dreams on  
I'th' tother world.   Leo. 
Thou hast pleased us, Archimagus.  Cor. 

Great Ceancrachius has inspired the Priest!  
This is the only way.   Con. 
I do not like it.  Leo. 

It shall be so, he shall be thus invited,  
And we will meet him with our Queen and Daughters,  
Who shall compose themselves to entertain him.   Arc. 
Leave me to instruct my princely charge, your Daughters,  Leo. 

Be still their blessed Director, to thy charge  
We gave them up long since, but do not tell 'em  
What happened to the Apostate Dichu; women  
Have soluble and easy hearts, that accident  
May startle their religion, keep 'em firm  
In the devotion to our gods, whose virgins  
We hope to call them shortly, if their zeal  
Maintain that holy flame that yet hath filled  
Their bosoms.   Arc. 
They are the Darlings of the Temple.  Leo. 

Conallus, you shall be the messenger,  
And bear our invitation.   Arc. 

Trouble not  
The Prince, impose that business on my care.   Leo. 
Be it so.  Con. 
I am glad I am off the employment.  Leo. 

All ways to serve our gods are free, and good,  
When shed for them, they take delight in blood.   Exeunt.  

ACT. II.  Enter Ethne and Fedella, dancing. Eth. 

I am weary, and yet I would have more, my heart  
Was never more disposed to mirth, Fedella.   Fed. 

Mine is as light as yours, Sister, I am  
All air, methinks.   Eth. 
And I all mounting fire.  Fed. 
'Tis well we are alone.  Eth. 

'Tis ill we are;  
This heat our servants should have given us:   Fed. 

I wonder we cannot see 'em, they were not  
Since we first took them to our favour, guilty  
Of such neglect.   Eth. 

You wrong our birth and blood,  
To think they dare neglect us, for if they  
Forget what we deserve in loving them,  
They owe more duty, as we are the king's  
Daughters, than to displease us so.   Fed. 

That binds:  
But form and heartless ceremony, Sister,  
By your favour, I had rather hold my servant  
By his own love, that chains his heart to mine,  
Than all the bands of state.   Eth. 

I am of thy mind too, would they were here,  
I shall be sad again; fie, what a thing 'tis  
For two Ladies to be in love, and alone without  
A man so long.   Enter Rodamant. Fed. 
Here's one.  Eth. 

A foolish one, our governor's servant,  
How now Rodamant?   Rod. 
Keep off.  Fed. 
What, is the fellow conjuring?  Rod. 
I would, but I cannot read these devilish names.  Eth. 
How long hast thou served Archimagus?  Rod. 
Long enough to have had a Devil of mine own, if he had pleased, I have drudged under him almost these seven years, in hope to learn the trade of Magic, and none of his spirits will obey me; would I were a witch, than I should have a Familiar, a sucking Devil, upon occasion to do me service.  Fed. 
A Devil?  Rod. 
Oh, I loved him of a child.  Eth. 
What wouldst thou do with the Devil?  Rod. 
Only exercise my body, take the air now and then over steeples, and sail once a month to Scotland in a sieve, to see my Friends. I have a granam there, if I had been ruled, would not have seen me wanted a devil at these years, pray Madam speak to my Master for me, that my friends may not laugh at me, when I come out of my time, he has spirits enough, I desire none of his grandos, a little Don Diego Diabolo would serve my turn, if he have but skill in Love or Physic.  Fed. 
Physick for what? art sick?  Rod. 
I am not sick, but I am troubled with a desperate consumption.  Eth. 
How?  Fed. 
Why that's nothing.  Rod. 

To you that are great Ladies, and fed high  
But to a man that is kept lean and hungry  
A little falling of the flesh is seen.   Eth. 
I heard thee name love, prithee art thou in love?  Rod. 
In love? look on my sore eyes.  Eth. 
They are well enough, and thou canst see.  Rod. 
Yes, I can see a little with 'em, would they were out.  Eth. 
How? out?  Rod. 
Out of their pain. I have but seven teeth and a half, and four on 'em are rotten, here's a stump, a pickax cannot dig out of my gums.  Fed. 
Are these signs of love?  Rod. 

Oh infallible. Beside, I cannot sleep  
For dreaming a my Mistress.   Eth. 
So, and what's her name?  Rod. 
You shall pardon me, she is—  Eth. 
A man or a woman.  Rod. 
Nay she is a woman, as sure, as sure as you are the Queen's daughters. I name nobody; do not you say 'tis the Queen, I am what I am, and she is what she is.  Eth. 
Well said.  Rod. 
And if I live, I will die for her, but I forget myself, I had a message to tell you; first my Master commends him to your Graces and will be here presently: secondly I have news, Do you know what I mean?  Fed. 
Not we.  Rod. 

Why then, my Lord Ferochus, and his brother  
Endarius, you know 'em?   Eth. 
What of them?  Rod. 
And they know you.  Fed. 
To the purpose.  Rod. 
I know not that, but they are  Eth. 
What?  Rod. 
Not made for worm's meat.  Fed. 
What means the fellow?  Rod. 
The King has commanded, they shall be thrown from a rock into the sea, that's all, but here's my Master can tell you the whole story.  Exit. Eth. 
What said the screech-owl  Enter Archimagus Fed. 

We hope Archimagus brings better news.  
And yet his face is cast into a form of sorrow.  
What are these?   Arc. 

Read, and collect your noble forces up,  
You will be lost else, alas poor Ladies,  
How soon their blood is frighted?   Eth. 

Every character  
Gives my poor heart a wound.   Fed. 

Alas, how much of mischief is contained  
In this poor narrow paper.   Eth. 
Can this be?  Arc. 

Madam too true, the anger of the King  
Is heavy and inevitable, you may  
Believe what their sad pens have bled to you;  
They have no hope, not once before they die  
To see your blessed eyes, and take their leave,  
And weep into your bosom, their last farewell.   Fed. 
They must not, sha' not die so.  Arc. 
They must Madam.  Eth. 

I will die with 'em too then: Sister shall  
They leave the world without our company?   Fed. 

Could not you bend the King our cruel father?  
You should have said, we loved them; you have most  
Power to prevail with him; you should have told him,  
The gods would be offended, and revenge their death  
With some strange curse upon this Island.   Eth. 

You knew our loves, and all our meetings Sir,  
They were not without you, nor will we live  
Without them, tell our father. Did our hearts  
Flatter themselves with mirth, to be struck dead  
With this, this murdering news. I'll to the King.   Arc. 

Stay, and contain yourselves, your loves are brave,  
Nor shall your flame die thus; as I was first  
Of counsel with your thoughts, I will preserve 'em:  
They sha'not die, if my brain leave me not.   Fed. 
Oh, I could dwell upon his lips to thank him.  Arc. 
But they must then be banished.  Eth. 

That's death.  
Unless we go along to exile with 'em.   Ar. 

I have the way, they shall deceive the sentence  
Of the enraged King, and live; nor shall  
This be reward of your affections;  
You shall converse more often, and more freely  
Than ever, if you dare be wise and secret.   Fc. 
You make us happy.  Arc. 

Here's your elder brother,  
Away and trust to me.   Enter Coribreus. Cor. 
Health to our Priest.  Arc. 

And to your Highness. Enter Emeria and Conallus.  
Do you see that couple?   Cor. 

My brother and the fair Emeria, Milcho's daughter,  
Out of their way; but so, to reach their voice,  
This place o'th' Garden's apt.   Arc. 
Observe 'em.  Em. 

But will you not, my Lord, repent to have placed  
Your love so much unworthily.   Con. 

Oh never.  
My best Emeria, thou hast a wealth  
In thy own virtue, above all the world;  
Be constant, and I'm blessed.   Em. 

This hand and heaven  
Be witness where my heart goes.   Cor. 

If my fate  
Cannot enjoy thy love, I shall grieve both  
Your destinies.   Arc. 

Be confident you shall  
Enjoy her, if you'll follow my directions.   Cor. 

Thou art my genius, but she's very holy,  
And, I fear, too religious to her vows,  
She is devoted much to Ceancrachius, head of the gods.   Arc. 

Sir her piety  
Prepares your conquest, as I'll manage things,  
I won't trust the air too much.   Con. 
This kiss and all's confirmed.  Em. 

Pray my Lord use  
My poor heart kindly, for you take it with you.   Con. 
I leave mine in exchange.  Exit. Arc. 

He is gone, advance  
To your Mistress, and if you want art to move her,  
I sha'not sir, to make you prosper, 'tis  
Firmly designed, when we meet next, you shall  
Know more.   Exit. Cori. 
How now my fair Emeria.  Em. 

I do beseech your highness' pardon,  
I did think I was alone.   Cori. 

Alone you are  
In beauty sweet Emeria, and all  
The graces of your sex.   Em. 

You are too great to flatter me,  
And yet this language comes  
So near the wickedness of court praise, I dare not  
With modesty imagine your heart means so.   Cori. 

Yet in this garden, when you seemed most solitary,  
Madam, you had many fair, and sweet companions.   Em. 
Not I sir.  Cori. 

Yes, and my rivals too Emeria,  
And now they court thy beauty in my presence  
Proud erring things of nature, dost not see  
As thou dost move, how every amorous plant  
Doth how his leafy head, and beckon thee;  
The wind doth practise dalliance with thy hairs  
And weave a thousand pretty nets within  
To catch itself.  
That violet drooped but now,  
How 'tis exalted at thy smile, and spreads  
A virgin bosom to thee. There's a rose  
Would have slept still within his bud, but at  
Thy presence, it doth open his thin curtains  
And with warm apprehension looking forth  
Betrays her love in blushes. And that Woodbine  
As it would be divorced from the sweet-briar,  
Courts thee to an embrace. It is not dew  
That like so many pearls embroider all  
The flowers, but tears of their complaint, with fear  
To lose thee, from whose eye they take in all  
That makes them beautiful, and with humble necks  
Pay duty unto thee their only spring.   Em. 
Your Grace is courtly.  Cor. 

When these dull vegetals  
Show their ambition to be thine Emeria,  
How much should we, that have an active soul  
To know and value thee, be taken with  
This beauty? yet if you dare trust me Madam,  
There's none, within the throng of thy admirers,  
More willing, more devote to be thy servant  
Then Coribreus.   Em. 

I must again beseech  
Your pardon, and declare myself most ignorant:  
Pray speak your meaning in a dialect  
I understand.   Cor. 
Why, I do love you Madam.  Em. 

If this be it, I dare not sir believe  
You condescend so low to love Emeria,  
A worthless thing.   Cor. 

Why not? I love you Madam.  
If there be difference of our birth or state,  
When we are compared, it should make me the first  
In your fair thoughts: come, you must love again,  
And meet me with an equal active flame.   Em. 
I am more skilled in duty sir, than love.  Cor. 
You would be coy, your heart is not bestowed.  Em. 
Indeed it is.  Cor. 
On whom?  Em. 
I must not name.  Cor. 

Were he my brother did twist heart with thine,  
That act should make him strange to my blood,  
And I would cut him from his bold embraces.   Em. 
Alas, I fear.  Cor. 

I know you will be wise  
And just to my desires Emeria,  
When you shall see my love bid fairest for you,  
And that presented from a Prince, who knows  
No equal here. Come, I already promise  
myself possessed of those fair eyes, in which  
I gazing thus, at every search discover  
New crystal heavens, those tempting cheeks are mine,  
A garden with fresh flowers all the winter;  
Those lips invite to print my soul upon 'em  
Or lose it in thy breath, which I'll convey  
Down to my heart, and wish no other spirit,  
As loath to change it for my own again.  
How in thy bosom will I dwell Emeria,  
And tell the azure winding of thy veins  
That flow, yet climb those soft, and ivory hills  
Whose smooth descent leads to a bliss, that may  
Be known, but puzzle art and tongue to speak it.  
I prithee do not use this froward motion,  
I must and will be thine.   Em. 

Be your own sir,  
And do not thus afflict my innocence,  
Had you the power of all the world, and man,  
You could not force my will, which you have frighted  
More from you then my duty, although powerful,  
Can call again; you are not modest sir,  
Indeed I fear you are not, I must leave you,  
Better desires attend your Grace and me.   Exit Cor. 

This won't gain her, her heart's fixed upon  
My brother, all my hope is in Archimagus,  
She is a frozen thing, yet she may melt.  
If their disdain should make a man despair,  
Nature mistook in making woman fair.   Exit An altar discovered, two Idols upon it, Archimagus and priests, lights and incense prepared by Rodomant. Ro. 

These be new deities, made since yesterday,  
We shift our gods, as fast as some shift trenchers;  
Pray sir what do you call their names, they are  
But half gods, demigods as they say, there's  
Nothing beneath the navel.   Ar. 
This with the thunderbolt is Jupiter.  Rod. 

Jupiter? 'Tis time he were cut off by the middle,  
He has been a notable thunderer in his days.   Prie. 
This is Mars.  Ro. 

Mars from the middle upward. Was it by my Lady  
Venus' direction that he is dismembered too.  
He that overcame all in a full career, looks now like  
A demi-lance.   Arc. 
Are they not lively formed, but sirrah away, tell the young Ladies the King is upon entrance.  Enter King, Queen, Conallus. At the other door, Ethne, Fedella, they all kneel. Ar. 

To Jove and Mars the King doth pay  
His duty, and thus humbly lay  
Upon his Altar, his bright crown,  
Which is not his, if they but frown.  
In token you are pleased, let some  
Celestial flame make pure this room.   A flame behind the Altar. 

The gods are pleased, great King, and we  
Return thy golden wreath to thee,  
More sacred by our holy fume;  
None to the Altar yet presume.  
Now shoot your voices up to Jove,  
To Mars and all the Powers above.   After the song the Queen offers, and her daughters, garlands, which are placed upon the beads of the Idols. 

Song at the Altar.  
Come away, Oh come away  
And trembling trembling pay  
Your pious vows to Mars and Jove.  
While we do sing,  
Gums of precious odours bring,  
And light them with your love.  
As your holy fires do rise,  
Make Jove to wonder  
What new flame  
Thither came  
To wait upon his thunder.   The song being ended, the Idol that presented Jupiter moveth. Kin. 

Archimagus, Conallus; see my children,  
The statue moves.   Arc. 
Approach it not too near.  Eth. 
It is prodigious.  Arc. 

With devotion,  
Expect what follows, and keep reverent distance;  
I am all wonder.   Jupe. 

King Leogarius,  
Jove doth accept thy vows, and pious offerings,  
And will shower blessings on thee; and this kingdom,  
If thou preserve this holy flame burns in thee.  
But take heed, thou decline not thy obedience,  
Which thou shalt best declare by thy just anger  
Against that christian straggler Patrick, whose  
Blood must be sacrificed to us, or you  
Must fall in your remiss and cold religion.  
When you are merciful to our despisers,  
You pull our wrath upon you, and this Island.  
My duty is performed, and I return  
To my first stone, a cold and silent statue.   Arc. 

What cannot all commanding Jove? 'tis now  
That artificial tongueless thing it was,  
how are you bound to honour Jupiter?  
That with this strange and public testimony  
Accepts your zeal. Pursue what you intended,  
And meet this enemy to the gods, that now  
Expects your entertainment.   King. 

I obey.  
Come my Queen, and daughters.   Queen. 
I attend you Sir.  Rod. 
Is not the Queen a lovely creature Sir?  Prin. 
Why how now Rodamant, what passion's this?  Rod. 
Oh that I durst unbutton my mind to her.  Arc. 

Your Princely daughters pray they may have leave  
To offer in their gratitude to the gods  
One other prayer, and they will follow Sir.   Ki. 
They are my pious daughters, come Conallus.  Exeunt King, Queen, Conallus, etc. Arc. 
They are gone, uncloud.  Fero. 
Oh my dear Mistress, is not the King mocked rarely?  Eth. 
My most loved Endarius!  Arc. 
Have I not done't my Charge?  Fed, 

Most quaintly. Welcome  
To thy Fedella.   Rod. 
Hum, how's this? more scapes of Jupiter? they have sound their neither parts; the gods are become fine mortal gentlemen, here's precious juggling, if I durst talk on't.  Arc. 
Not a syllable, as you desire not to be torn in pieces sir.  Rod. 
Gods quotha, I held a candle before the devil.  Arc. 
To the door and watch.  Rod. 
So I must keep the door too, here's like to be holy doings.  Fer. 

We owe Archimagus for more than life  
For your loves, without which, life is a curse.   Arc. 
The music prompts you to a dance.  En. 
I'th' temple.  Arc. 
'T is most secure, none dare betray you here.  Eth. 
We must away.  Fer. 
My life is going from me.  Fed. 
Farewell.  Arc. 
The King expects, now kiss and part.  Eth. 
When next we meet, pray give me back my heart.  Rod. 
I am an Esquire by my office.  Exeunt.  

ACT. III.  Enter Rodamant. Rod. 
Oh my Royal love! why should not I love the Queen? I have known as simple a fellow as I hath been in love with her horse, nay they ha' been bedfellows in the same litter, and in that humour he would have been leapt, if the beast could have been provoked to incontinency; but what if the King should know out, and very lovingly circumcise me for it, or hang me up a gracious spectacle with my tongue out a perch for sparrows? why, I should become the gallows o'my conscience: oh I would stretch in so gentle posture, that the spectators all should edify, and hang by my example.  Enter Bard. 
The Kings merry Bard, if he have overheard, he'll save the hangman a labour, and rhyme me to death.  Bar. 
Rodamant, my half man, half gobbling, all fool, how is't? when didst thou see the devil.  Rod. 
Alas, I never had the happiness.  Bar. 
Why then, thou art not acquainted with thy best friend.  Sings. 

Have you never seen in the air,  
One ride with a burning spear,  
Upon an old witch with a pad,  
For the devil a sore breech had.  
With lightning, and thunder  
And many more wonder.  
His eyes indeed-law sir,  
As wide as a saucer.  
Oh this would have made my boy mad.   Rod. 
An honest merry trout.  Bar. 
Thou sayst right gudgeon, gape, and I'll throw in a bushel, why does thy rose hang over thy mouth; as it would peep in, to tell how many teeth thou hast?  Rod. 
Excellent Bard Oh brave Bard Ha Bard.  Bar. 
Excellent tool! Oh fine fool, Ha fool.  Rod 
Prithee with what news, and whither is thy head traveling?  Bar. 
My head, and my feet go one way, and both now at their journeys end. The news is, that one Patrick a stranger, is invited to court: this way he must come, and I like one of the Kings wanton whelps, have broke loose from the kennel, and come thus afore to bark, and bid him welcome, the King and Queen will meet him.  Rod. 
Has the King invited him?  Bar. 
What else man.  Sings 

Oh the Queen and the King, and the royal Off spring,  
With the Lords, and Ladies so gay,  
I tell you not a trick, to meet the man Patrick:  
Are all now trouping this way.  
This man report sings, does many strange things:  
Our Priests, and our Bards must give place.  
He cares not a straw, for our sword or club-law.  
Oh I long to behold his gay face.   Rod. 
Prithee a word, thou didst name the Queen, Does she come too?  Bar. 
By any means.  Rod. 
Well 'tis a good soul.  Bar. 
Who?  Rod. 
The Queen.  Bar. 
The Queen is't? dost make but a soul other? treason, I have heard some foolish Philosophers affirm, that women have no souls: 'twere well for some they had no; but to make nobody of the Queen, is treason, if it be not felony.  Rod. 
Oh my royal love!  Bar 
Love, art thou in love Rodamant? nay then thou may'st Talk treason or any thing. Folly and madness are lash free, and may ride cheek by jowl with a judge. But dost thou know what love is, thou one of Cupid's overgrown monkeys? Come, crack me this nut of love, and take the maggot for thy labour.  Rod. 
Prithee do thou say what 'tis.  Bar. 
No, I will sing a piece of my mind, and love to thee.  Sings 

Love is a bog, a deep bog, a wide bog.  
Love is a clog, a great clog, a close clog.  
'Tis a wilderness to lose ourselves,  
A halter 'tis to noose ourselves.  
Then draw Dun out o'th' mire:  
And throw the clog into the fire.  
Keep in the Kings high way,  
And sober you cannot stray.  
If thou admire no female else,  
The balter may go bang itself.  
Drink wine and be merry, for love is a folly:  
And dwells in the house of melancholy.   Rod. 
'Tis such a merry baboon, and shoots quills like a Porcupine, but who's this?  Enter St. Patrick, and his train at one door. At the other, the King, Queen, his sons and daughters, Milcho, Archimagus, and Priests. Bar. 
'Tis he, I know him by instinct.  Sings. 

Patrick welcome to this I'll,  
See how every thing doth smile:  
To thy staff and thy mitre,  
And Lawn that is whiter.   

And every shaven crown a welcome welcome to town.  
Look where the King, and Queen do greet thee:  
His Prince sons are come to meet thee.  
And see where a pair is, of very fine Fairies.  
Prepared too,  
That thou may'st report, thy welcome to Court,  
And the Bard too,   
And so pray father give me your blessing.  Pat. 

I thank thee courteous Bard, thy heart is honest.  
But to the King my duty.   Kin. 

Welcome Patrick,  
For so thou call'st thyself; we have thrown off  
Our anger: and with calm, and melting eyes  
Look on thee. Thou hast piety, to forgive  
Our former threats and language, and to satisfy.  
For our denial of some humble cottages,  
Against the hospitable laws of nature.  
We give thee now our Palace, use it freely.  
myself, our Queen and children, will be all  
Thy guests: and owe our dwellings to thy favour.  
There are some things of venerable mark  
Upon thy brow, thou art some holy man,  
Designed by providence to make us happy:  
Again, most welcome to us.   Quee. 

His aspect  
Doth promise goodness: Welcome.   Co. 
To us all.  Pat. 

If this be hearty, heaven will not permit  
Your charity's unrewarded.   Cor. 

I am weary  
Of these dull compliments, Archimagus.   Arc. 

I am prepared, I know your blood's a longing,  
To change embraces with Emeria.  
Receive this, which worn upon your  
Arm, is so by power of magic fortified,  
You shall go where you please invisible,  
Until you take it off: Go to your Mistress.   Cor. 

Softly my dear Archimagus; the rest  
Speak in a whisper; I shall be jealous of  
The intelligencing air.   Kin. 

You may be confident  
Our favour spreads to all. But where is Dichu  
Your Convert? we'll receive him to our grace too.   Pat. 

He durst not Sir, approach your royal presence.  
And grief for the sad fate of his two sons,  
Hath made him weary of society:  
Not far off in a wood, he means to wear out  
His life in prayer and penance.   Arc 
How do you taste it?  Cor. 
'Tis rare, and must succeed to my ambition.  Arc. 
Lose no time time then.  Cor. 
I fly, command me ever.  Exit Cori. Kin. 
I am not well o'th' sudden.  Quee. 

How? what is't  
That doth offend the King?   Kin. 
An evil conscience: Alas my children.  Con. 
Father.  Arc. 
Sir.  Eth. 
Pray speak to us.  Kin. 

How shall I  
Win credit with this good man, that I have  
Repented, for the blood of Dichu's sons?   Pat. 

If you dissemble not with heaven, I can  
Be easily gained Sir, to believe and pray for you.   Kin. 

Some wine, it is the greatest ceremony  
Of love with us, the seal of reconcilement.  
Let some one bring us wine, I won't move,  
Until I drink to this blessed man.   Arc. 
Away.  Kin. 

This place shall be remembered to posterity,  
Where Leogarius first, showed himself friend  
To holy Patrick. 'Tis religious thirst,  
That will not let me expect, till more return.  
There is a stream of peace within my heart.   Arc. 
'tis rarely counterfeited.  Con 

He is my father,  
I should else tell him; 'tis not like a King,  
Thus to conspire a poor man's death. What thinks  
Our royal mother? Is it just to take  
By stratagem, this innocent man's life.   Que. 
What means my son?  Con. 

Shall I betray the plot  
Yet? and preserve him: see the wine.   Arc. 

The wine  
Attends you Sir.   Kin. 

'tis well, fill us a cheerful cup: here Patrick,  
We drink thy welcome to the Irish coasts.   Eth. 

What does my father mean to do with this  
Dull thing? he'll never make a courtier.   Fed. 
His very looks have turned my blood already.  Arc. 
I'll spice his cup.  Kin. 
Do't strongly.  Que. 

There's something within prompts me to pity  
This stranger.   Con. 
Do you love wine Sir?  Pat. 

If I did not,  
I should presume against my nature once  
To please the King that hath thus honoured us.   Con. 
Do not, I say do not.  Arc. 
Please you Sir?  Kin. 
Come, to our Queen.  Rod. 
My royal love, would I had the grace to drink to her or kiss the cup.  Pat. 
My duty.  Arc. 
Now observe Sir the change, he has it home.  Rod. 
I cannot live, my heart won't hold out.  Kin. 
Forbear, as you affect your life.  Qu. 
How's this? now I suspect Conallus.  Pat. 

I have one boon to ask your Majesty;  
Since you look on us with this gracious smile:  
That you would give my poor companions leave,  
To build a little chapel in this place,  
It shall be the first monument of your love;  
To use our own religion, the ground offers  
Plenty of stone, the cost and pain be ours.   Kin. 
Not yet?  Pat. 
'Twill bind us ever to pray for you.  Kin. 

If it were violent, as thou sayst, it had  
By this time gnawn to his bowels.   Pat. 

Sir, you mind not  
The humble suit I make.   Arc. 
Not yet?  Pat. 
Great Sir.  Kin. 

It does not alter him, he rather looks  
With fresher blood upon him.   Arc. 

'Tis my wonder,  
I did not trust another to prepare his cup.   Kin. 
Come, 'tis not poison, we are abused.  Arc. 
Upon my life.  Pat. 
The King is troubled.  Kin. 
Prepare another.  Arc. 
It shall be done.  Kin. 
Come hither sirrah, you brought this wine.  Rod. 
I did, Sir.  Kin. 
And you shall taste it.  Rod. 
Would I were but worthy.  Kin. 
I will have it so. Come, drink our health.  Rod. 
May I remember your good Queens.  Arc. 

And he had the constitution of an Elephant  
'Twould pay him.   Qu. 
How cheer you, Sir.  Pat. 

Well, Madam; but I observe  
Distractions in the King.   Kin. 
Nay, drink it off.  Rod. 
And it were as deep as the root of Penmenmaure, my royal Love should have it.  Kin. 

Now we shall try the ingredients, it stirred  
Not him, has he done't?   Rod. 
So.  Arc. 
Yes, and the change begins to show already.  Rod. 
Hoy ho— what's that?  Bar. 
Where?  Rod. 
Here, hereabouts, was the wine burnt? oh there's wildfire in the wine.  Arc. 
It works on him.  Rod. 
There's squibs and crackers in my stomach; am not I poisoned?  Bar. 
Poisoned? we shall want a fool then.  Rod. 
A way, I'll never drink again.  Bar. 
Not often, and thou be'st poisoned.  Rod. 
It increases, my royal love has poisoned me, her health has blown my bowels up. Oh a cooler, would I were a while in the frozen sea, charity is not cold enough to relieve me: the devil is making fireworks in my belly. Ha the Queen, let me but speak to the Queen; Oh Madam, little do you think, that I have poisoned myself, Oh for your sweet sake. But howsoever; Oh think upon me when I am dead. I bequeath my heart, Oh there 'tis already: my royal love farewell.  Arc. 
What think you now? it hath dispatched him raving.  Pat. 

Madam, you show a pious heart, I find  
My death was meant; but 'tis heaven's goodness  
I should not fall by poison: do not lose  
Your charity.   Bar. 
he's dead.  Pat. 
Pray let me see the fellow.  Kin. 

It affrights me, this was some treason meant to us;  
And thee good man: How I am innocent.   Pat. 
How soon death would devour him.  Arc. 
Past your cure.  Pat. 

That power we serve can call back life, and see,  
He has a little motion.   Bar. 
He breathes too, nay then he may live to have th'other cup: Madam, this Patrick is a rare physician, if he stay with us, we'll make us all immortal.  Kin. 
Alive again? Oh let me honour thee.  Quee. 

We cannot Sir enough;  
Receive me Patrick,  
A weak disciple to thee: my soul bids me  
Embrace thy faith: Make me a Christian.   Kin. 

How? did didst thou hear Archimagus, let some  
Convey our Queen hence, her weak conscience melts;  
she'll be a Christian she says: I hate her,  
And do confine her to the house of Milcho  
Our zealous Provost.   Pat. 

'tis the king's pleasure Madam,  
I should attend you hence.   Quee. 
Where the King please.  Pat. 

In any prison Madam, I dare visit you;  
Be comforted, they do but fight with heaven.   Con. 
I'll wait upon my mother.  Exeunt. Kin. 

Look to my daughters,  
lest this change work on them.   Arc. 
They are my charge.  Kin. 

Be not dejected Patrick, we do mean  
All good to thee: set forward, have a care  
Of that poor fellow.   Pat. 

I'll attend you Sir,  
And trust to Providence we shall be safe.   Exeunt. Bar. 
How is't now Rodamant? dost thou remember thou wert dead? Thou wert poisoned.  Rod. 
There is a kind of grumbling in my guts still.  Bar. Sings. 

Come, we will drink a cup boy, but of better brewing,  
And we will drink it up joy, without any fear of—  
Wine is injust that is taken on trust, if it tarry with us it fats,  
A cup boy, drink up joy, and let 'em go poison rats.   Exeunt. Enter Emeria. Em. 

What is it that doth sit so heavy on me?  
Since Coribreus talked with me, I find a dulness in my brain; and  
My eyes look as through a mist: which hangs upon my lids,  
And weighs 'em down. He frighted me to hear him,  
He has a rugged and revengeful nature;  
Not the sweet temper that his brother.  
My dear Conallus, mine? alas did I  
Say mine? indeed he is Master of my heart,  
But something makes me fear I shall not be  
So happy as I wish in his possession:  
Yet we have vows on both sides, holy ones,  
And marriage promised. But I am too loud;  
Yet not, my lodgings are remote and privat'st  
Of all the Court: and I have dismissed the servants,  
None near to reach my voice, then till this give  
Access, I need not fear the silent chambers.  
More clouds do gather 'bout my eyes, 'tis strange,  
I am not used to be inclined to sleep,  
While the day shines; then take what nature offers  
Emeria, and comply, it may discharge  
Thy waking melancholy, so I feel  
It gently slide upon my senses.   Enter Spirits before Coribreus habited gloriously, and representing Ceancrochi. Cor. 

So, so, this amulet I find secures me  
From all observers, and I now am in  
Her chamber, by a feat my Spirit did me:  
Ha? She sleeps too, what a fine Bawd the devil is,  
What opportunities he can frame to bring  
These things to pass; I were best lose no time;  
Madam, Madam, fair Emeria.   Eme. 

Ha? who's that? was it a voice that called me?  
Or do I dream? here's nobody, this key  
Made all without sast; yet I'd see.   Exit. Cor. 

I had  
Forgot, she'll never see me if I do not  
Take off my charm, perhaps I may again be visible  
If I ha' not lost myself.   Enter Emeria. Eme. 

The doors are fast.  
Ha! Bless me you Powers,  
This music is not frequent in my chambers;  
'Tis here, I know not where, I can see nothing.   Cor. 
Emeria.  Eme. 
Who is't that calls Emeria? goodness aid me!  Cor. 

Put off thy fright Emeria, yet I blame not  
Thy feeble sense to tremble at my presence:  
Not used to mortal eyes, and unprepared.  
But gather strength, and call thy blood again  
Whose seat a paleness doth usurp: I am  
Thy friend.   Eme. 
But no acquaintance sure, what are you?  Cor. 

Not what I seem, I have assumed this for me,  
To tell thee what a happiness is now  
Coming from heaven upon thee.   Eme. 
Upon me?  Cor. 

And when the sweet Emeria is collected,  
She will lose her life again in joy and wonder.   Eme. 

My strength returns, this is a gentle language,  
And Spirit, if thou be'st one; speak thy will.   Cor. 

Then know Emeria, I am no mortal  
But Ceancrochi, chief of all the gods  
That now appear.   Eme. 

I know not what to answer  
But with my humble knee.   Cor. 

Thy pure devotion  
Richer than clouds of incense, Myrrh, and Cassia,  
And all the Gums whose piles make sweet our Altar,  
Hath been delightful to the gods, and me,  
And I have left the Palace of the blessed,  
Where many glorious virgins wait: and want thee,  
A fellow singer in their heavenly choir,  
To visit in this form the fair Emeria,  
And thank thee for thy pious sacrifices:  
Rise then and be confirmed, we mean to honour  
Thy person and thy virtues.   Em. 

Can this roof  
Be so much blessed? and can so great a deity  
Consider my imperfect duty thus?   Cor. 

To assure thy thoughts, ask fairest virgin, what  
Thou most desirest, and it shall firmer, than  
The Destinies, be made thine own: hast thou  
A wish to this world's glory, to be greater?  
Wouldst thou enlarge thy knowledge, or thy pleasure?  
Dost thou affect to have thy life extended,  
Double the course of Nature; or thy beauty  
Above the malice of disease, or time  
To wither? Wouldst thou see thy book of fate,  
And read the various lines that fall into  
Thy life, as to their centre: speak, and be  
Possessed; if thou refuse what here is named,  
Thy wish will come too late, Emeria?   Em. 

None of all these; let me be still accepted  
An humble servant to the gods.   Cor. 

Then I  
Will find some other way to thy reward:  
First, we release that duty of thy knee;  
Reach thy fair hand.   Em. 
I dare not.  Cor. 

Do not tremble,  
It shall but meet another like thine own;  
For I had care not to affright my virgin:  
What dost thou see in me, that to thy sense  
Appears not man? Divinity is too bright  
For thy weak eye, and therefore I have clad  
In this no threatning shape, all that is divine:  
That I with safety of thy sense, Emeria,  
Might visit thee: come, I will see thee often,  
If thou be wise to understand how much  
It is my will to honour thee; and I  
Will thus descend, and leave my beams behind,  
Whose brightness were enough to burn thee,  
To converse with thee in a loving way  
Of smiling thus, and thus embracing thee—  
Of mixing palms, nay I will kiss thee too.   Em. 
Do our gods practise this?  Cor. 
Not, but with those  
They mean especial grace to, such as they know must hereafter shine above with them, though merely mortals, are adored; and seldom visit the world, hid thus in flesh and blood, which we at pleasure can assume, and have desires like you, and have our passions too, can love, ay, and enjoy where we will place the happiness, else we had less than men.  Em. 
I thought the powers above had been all honest.  Cor. 

'Tis in them chastity, nor is it sin  
In those we love to meet wit active flames,  
And be glad mothers to immortal issues:  
How oft hath Jove, who justly is adored,  
Left heaven, to practise love with such a fair one?  
The Sun, for one embrace of Daphne, would  
Have pawned his beams: not one, but hath sometimes  
Descended, to make fruitful weak Mortality.  
Oh, if thou couldst but reach, Emeria,  
With thy imagination, what delight,  
What flowing ecstasies of joy we bring  
Your sex, made nice and cold by winter laws  
Of man, that freeze the blood, thou wouldst be fond  
To my embraces, and petition me  
To bless thee with a rape, yet I woo thy  
Consent.   Em. 

Away:  
Thou art no god sure, but  
Some vicious Impostor: Can a Deity  
Breath so much impious language, and reward  
Virtue with shame?   Cor. 

Take heed, and do not value  
thyself by rash and froward opposition;  
Know, I can make thee nothing, at a breath.   Em. 
Better be so, than made so foul a being.  Cor. 
Nay then, what should have been with thy consent a blessing, shall now only serve my pleasure, and I will take the forfeit of thy coldness.  Em. 
Oh help, some man, I dare not call upon the gods; for they are wicked grown, oh help.  Cor. 
I shall need none, thou thing of disobedience, thou art now within my power of love, or fury: yield, or I ll force thee into postures shall make pleasure weep, and hurl thee into wantonness.  He carries her in. The Devils rejoicing in a dance conclude the Act.  

ACT. IV.  Enter Milcho and Servant: Mil. 
Who's with the Queen, my prisoner?  Ser. 
The Prince Conallus came to visit her.  Exit Ser. Mil. 

So: bid my daughter Emeria come hither,  
She's come very melancholy from the Court,  
Under pretence to wait upon the Queen here. Enter Emeria.  
Still sad; come, I must have your face look otherwise,  
Dress it in smiles: I hope you put not on  
This sorrow for the Queen, she is a traitor  
To the King, and to the gods.   Em. 

A traitor, Sir!  
Oh do not say so; 'tis, I hear, for nothing,  
But looking on the stranger Patrick with  
Some pity.   Mil. 

It will not run  
Out of my thought; but this is the same Patrick  
That was my slave once, he was a Briton too:  
I know not how, he found some treasure then  
To buy his liberty: were he again  
My slave, no gold should buy him from my swine,  
Whose once companion he was: Emeria,  
D'ye hear? Conallus, the young Prince is come  
To see his mother; use him gently, girl:  
Come, I have heard he does affect thee, ha?  
He may be King.   Em. 

His brother Coribreus  
Is nearer to that title, and he says  
He loves me.   Mil. 
Does he so? then love him best,  Eme. 

Imagine I had promised, Sir, my heart  
To his younger brother.   Mil. 

Break a thousand promises,  
And hazard breaking of thy heart too wench,  
To be but one degree nearer a Queen;  
It does exalt my heart, spread all thy charms  
Of wit and language, when he courts thee girl:  
Smile, kiss, or any thing, that may endear  
Him and so great a fortune: I must leave thee,  
But won't be long absent.   Ser. 
Sir, the Bard does press to see the Queen.  Mil. 

He must not see her,  
His insolence I'll punish; yet admit him hither,  
His pleasant nature may raise mirth  
In my sad daughter. Enter Bard.  
Welcome, merry Bard.   Bar. 

I care not whither I be or no: the Queen  
I come to see.   Mil. 

she's private with the Prince:  
Come hither, dost thou see that piece of sullenness,  
That phlegmatic foolish thing.   Bar. 
And like the father.  Mil. 

Make her merry, and I'll give thee  
Gold joy to purchase a new harp, here's some  
In earnest; thou hast wanton pretty songs  
To stir the merry thoughts of maids: I'm gone  
To give thee opportunity, my presence  
May spoil the working of thy mirth, that done  
Shalt speak with the Queen too.   Exit. Bar. 

Fare you well Sir, and take a knave  
Along wi'ye. Here's a rose  
Sprung out of a thistle now: You are sad, Madam.   Em. 
I have no cause of mirth, Bard.  Ba. 
What d'ye think of me?  Em. 
Think of thee, Bard; I think thouart honest, and canst show a pleasant face sometimes, without an over joy within, but 'tis thy office.  Ba. 
I know why you are so melancholy.  Em. 
Prithee why dost think, Bard?  Ba. 
You want a man.  Em. 
Why, thou art one?  Ba. 
That's more than you know.  Sings. 

'Tis long of men that maids are sad;  
Come then, and sweetly kiss them,  
Their lips invite, you will be mad  
To come too late and miss them.  
In their cheeks, are full-blown roses  
To make garlands, to make posies:  
He that desires to be a father,  
Let him make haste before they fall, and gather:  
You stay too long, and do them wrong:  
If men would virgins strive to please,  
No maid this year should die o'th' green disease.   
What, are you merry yet?  Em. 

I am so far  
From being raised to mirth, that I incline  
To anger.   Ba. 

Come, I'll sit you with a song,  
A lamentable ballad, of one lost  
Her maidenhead, and would needs have it cried,  
With all the marks, in hope to ha''t again.   Em 
You were not sent to abuse me?  Ba. 
A dainty air too, I'll but tune my instrument.  Em. 
No more, or I'll complain: sure he knows nothing of my dishonour. How mine own thoughts fright me?  Ba. 
Now you shall hear the ditty.  Em. 
Hence, foolish Bard.  Sings. Ba. 

A poor wench was sighing, and weeping amain,  
And fain would she have her virginity again,  
Lost she knew not how; in her sleep (as she said)  
She went to bed pure, but she rise not a maid:  
She made fast the door,  
She was certain before,  
She laid herself down in the bed:  
But when she awaked, the truth is stark-naked,  
Oh she missed her maidenhead.   Enter Conallus. 

Ha, the young Prince, I'll tarry no longer w'ee.  
Now to the Queen.   Exit. Con. 

Emeria, prithee do not hide thy face  
From me, 'tis more than common sorrow makes  
Thee look thus: If the queen's misfortunes have  
Darkened thy face, I suffer too in that.  
If for thyself thou weep'st, my almost ebbing  
Grief thou wilt enforce back, and beget  
New seas, in which, made high by one strong sigh  
Of thine, I meet a watery sepulchre.  
My mother's fate commands my grief, but thine  
A greater suffering, since our hearts are one,  
And there wants nothing, but a ceremony  
To justify it to the world.   Em. 

Call back  
Your promises, my Lord, they were ill placed  
On me, for I have nothing to deserve'em.   Con. 

If thou be'st constant to thyself, and art  
Emeria still—   Em. 
That word hath wounded me.  Con. 
Why, art not thou thyself?  Em. 

I have the shape still,  
But not the inward part.   Con. 

Am I so miserable,  
To have my faith suspected, for I dare not  
Think thou canst sin by any change: What act  
Have I done my Emeria? or who hath  
Poisoned thy pure soul with suggestion  
Of my revolt? Apostasy I'll call it,  
For next our gods, thou art my happiness.   Em. 

Now, my dear Lord, and let me add thus much  
In my own part, I never loved you better;  
Never with more religious thoughts and honour  
Looked on you; my heart never made a vow  
So blessed in my hopes, as that I gave you,  
And I suspect not yours.   Con. 

What then can make thee,  
My Emeria, less; or me? Thou dost affright—   Em. 

Yes, I am less, and have that taken from me  
Hath almost left me nothing, or if any,  
So much unworthy you, that you would curse me,  
Should I betray you to receive Emeria.   Con. 
Do not destroy me so, be plain.  Em. 

Then thus—  
But if I drop a tear or two, pray pardon me:  
Did not the story touch myself, I should  
Weep for it in another; you did promise  
To marry me, my Lord.   Con. 
I did, and will.  Em. 
Alas, I have lost.  Con. 
What?  Em. 
The portion that I promised to bring with me.  Con. 
Do I value thy wealth?  Em. 

Oh, but the treasure  
I lost, you will expect, and scorn me ever,  
Because you have it not; yet heaven is witness  
'Tis not my fault, a thief did force it from me,  
Oh my dear Lord.   Con. 

I know not what to fear,  
Speak plainer yet.   Em. 

You'll say I am too loud,  
When I but whisper, Sir. I am no virgin.   Con. 
Ha!  Em. 

I knew 'twould fright you; but by all those tears,  
The poor Lamb, made a prey to the fierce wolf,  
Had not more innocence, or less consent  
To be devoured, than I to lose mine honour.   Con. 
Why, wert thou ravished?  Em. 
You have named it, Sir.  Con. 

The villain, name the villain, sweet Emeria,  
That I may send his leprous soul to hell for't,  
And when he hath confessed the monstrous sin,  
I'll think thee still a virgin, and thou art so:  
Confirm thy piety by naming him.   Em. 

It will enlarge but your vexation, Sir,  
That he's above your anger and revenge;  
For he did call himself a god that did it.   Con. 

The Devil he was; Oh do not wrack, Emeria,  
The heart that honours thee; mock me not, I prithee,  
With calling him a god, it was a fury,  
The master fiend of darkness, and as hot  
As hell could make him, that would ravish thee.   Em. 

If you do think I ever loved you, Sir,  
Or have a soul after my Body's rape,  
He named himself a god, great Ceancrochius,  
To whom I owe my shame and transformation.   Con. 
Oh, I am lost in misery and amazement  Exit. Em. 

So; I did see before it would afflict him:  
But having given these reasons to Conallus,  
For our divorce, I have provided how  
To finish all disgraces by my death. Enter Archimagus.  
Come, cure of my dishonour, and with blood  
Wash off my stain. Ha, Archimagus!   Arc. 
Madam.  Em. 
What news with our great Priest.  Arc. 

I come to tell you, heavenly Ceancrochius,  
Of whom I had this day a happy vision,  
Is pleased again to visit you, and commanded  
I should prepare you.   Eme. 

I begin to find  
Some Magical imposture. Does he know it?   Arc. 

I leave to say, how much you are his favourite,  
Be wise, and humble for so great a blessing.   Eme. 

This does increase my fears, I've been betrayed,  
I'll live a little longer than; great Priest  
My words are poor to make acknowledgement  
For so divine a a favour: But I shall  
Humbly expect, and hold myself again  
Blessed in his presence.   Enter Corybreus as before habited. Arc. 

he's here Emeria;  
Never was virgin so much honoured.   Exit. Cor. 
How is it with my sweet Emeria?  Eme. 

That question would become an ignorant Mortal,  
Whose sense would be informed; not Ceancrochius  
Whose eye at once can see the soul of all things.   Cor. 

I do not ask,  
To make thee think I doubt, but to maintain  
That form, which men familiar to such fair ones use  
When they converse: For I would have my language  
Soft as a lover's.   Eme. 
You are still gracious.  Cor. 

This temper is becoming, and thou dost  
Now appear worthy of our loves and presence.  
I knew when thy wise soul examined what  
It was to be the darling to a god,  
Thou wouldst compose thy gestures, and resign  
thyself to our great will: Which we accept  
And pardon thy first frailty; 'tis in us  
Emeria to translate thee hence to heaven,  
Without thy Body's separation,  
I'th' twinkling of an eye, but thou shalt live  
Here to convince erring mortality,  
That gods do visit such religious votaries  
In humane for me; and thus salute 'em.   Em. 
And thus be answered, with a resolute heart.  Stabs him. Cor. 
Oh thou hast murdered me, Strumpet, hold.  Eme. 

Sure if you be a god, you are above  
These wounds: If man thou hast deserved to bleed  
For thy impiety.   Cor. 

My blood is punished,  
A curse upon thy hand, I am no god;  
I am the Prince, see Corybreus.   Em. 

Ha? the Prince? were you my ravisher my Lord?  
I have done a justice to the gods in this  
And my own honour. Thou lost thing to goodness;  
It was a glorious wound, and I am proud  
To be the God's revenger.   Cor. 
Help, Oh I am lost.  He dies. Em. 

Call on the furies they did help thy sin,  
And will transport thy soul on their black wings  
To hell, Prince; and the gods can do no less,  
Than in reward to draw thy purple stream up,  
Shed in their cause, and place it a portent  
In heaven, to affright such foul lascivious Princes.  
I will live now, this story shall not fall so,  
And yet I must not stay here, now Conallus  
I have done some revenge for thee in this,  
Yet all this won't help me to my own  
Again; my honour of a virgin never will  
Return, I live and move, but wanting thee,  
At best I'm but a walking misery.   Exit. Enter Rodament reading. Rod. 

My royal love, my Lady, and fair Mysteries,  
Such love as mine, was never read in histories.  
There's love, and love, good.  
The poison to my heart was not so cruel.  
As that I cannot hang thee, how's that, hang the Queen?  
The poison to my heart was not so cruel,  
As that I cannot hang thee, my rich jewel.  
Within my heart. Oh there's hang and jewel, and heart, and heart, good again.  
I am thy constant Elf,  
And dare for thy sweet sake, go hang myself.  
What though I am no Lord, yet I am loyal,  
There's a jingle upon the letter, to show if she will   
Give me but an inch, I'll take an ell; Lord and loyal, and though no prince I am thy servant royal. There's no figure in that, yes impossibility, servant and royal.  

Then grant him love for love, that doth present these,  
With Noverint universi per prefentes.   
there's to show I am a Linguist, with a rumme in the rhyme consisting of two several languages, beside love and love, thy jet and alabaster face. I eat because it draws the straw of my heart, and alabaster, because there is some white in her face,  

Thy jet and Alabaster face now calls,  
My love and hunger up to eat stone walls.   
But so I may bite of her nose, if her face be alabaster; but she is in prison, there it holds, and I may do her service to break prison for her any way. Well, here's enough at a time, if she like this, I have an ambling muse that shall be at her service: But what stumbling block is cast in my way? This is no place to sleep in, I take it in a story under a trundlebed: I have seen these clothes afore now, the tailor took measure for one of our gods that made 'em; d'ye hear friend, hal 'tis the Prince Corybreus, dead, killed, Ha? my Lord he's speechless. What were I best to do? in stead of searching the wound I'll first search his pockets: What's here? a bracelet, a pretty toy, I'll give it the Queen, but if I be found here alone I may be found necessary to his death. Ha, what shall I do?  Hides himself. Enter Milcho and servant. Mil. 
My daughter gone abroad without a servant?  Ser. 
I offered my attendance.  Mil. 

Ha! what's here, one murdered? 'tis the Prince,  
Slain in my house, confusion; Look about,  
Search for the traitor I am undone for ever.   Ser. 

The Prince! I'll take my oath I see him not enter.  
Why thus disguised?   Mil. 
I tremble to look on him, seek every where.  Ser. 
I gave access to none but Rodamant, and he is gone.  Mil. 

What shall we do? remove the murdered body,  
And on thy life be silent, we are lost else.  
Attend without, and give access to none,  
Till I have thought some way through this affliction.  
Did my stars owe me this? oh, I could curse 'em,  
And from my vexed heart exhale a vapour  
Of execrations, that should blast the day,  
And darken all the world. The Prince murdered  
In my house, and the Traitor not discovered.   Enter Servant. Ser. 
One, Sir, with a letter.  Mil. 
Let him carry it back, where's the young Prince, Conallus?  Ser. 
Gone long since, Sir.  Mil. 

I'll lay the murder upon him,  
It will be thought ambition, or upon the Queen.   Ser. 

Sir, one waits  
With a Letter from the King.   Mil. 

The King? that name  
Shoots horror through me now, who is the messenger?   Ser. 

A stranger both in habit and in person:  
This is he, Sir.   Enter Patrick. Mil. 
Ha.  Pat. 

The King salutes you,  
My Lord, this paper speaks his royal pleasure.  
You have forgot me, Sir; but I have been more  
Familiar to your knowledge: Is there nothing  
Within my face, that doth resemble once  
A slave you had?   Mil. 
Ha, is your name Patrick?  Pat. 

It is, my Lord: I made my humble suit  
Toth' King, that by his favour I might visit you;  
And though I have not now that servile tie,  
It will not shame me to profess I owe  
You duty still, and shall to my best power  
Obey your just commands.   Mil. 

He writ to me,  
That I should try my art, and by some stratagem  
Discharge his life; I'll do't, but all this won't  
Quit the suspicion of the PRINCE's death:  
What if I lay the murder to his charge?  
I can swear any thing. But if he come off,  
My head must answer; no trick in my brain?  
You're welcome; the King writes you have desires  
To see the Queen, you shall entreat her presence.   Pat. 
The King has honoured me.  Mil. 

You have deserved it.  
And I do count it happiness to receive  
Whom he hath graced; but the remembrance  
Of what you were, adds to the entertainment:  
My old acquaintance, Patrick.   Pat. 
You are noble.  Enter Queen and Bard. Mil. 
The Queen? welcome again, come hither, sirrah.  Pat. 

Madam; I joy to see you, and present  
My humble duty: Heaven hath heard my prayers,  
I hope, and if you still preserve that goodness,  
That did so late, and sweetly shine upon you,  
I may not be unwelcome, since there is  
Something behind, which I am trusted with,  
To make you happier.   Qu. 
Holy Patrick, welcome.  Mil. 

Obey in every circumstance: My despair Exit Serv▪.  
Shall have revenge wait on it. This is, Madam,  
A good man, he was once my slave; let not  
That title take thy present freedom of  
My house; my fortunes and my fate, I wish,  
May have one period with thee, I shall  
Attend you again, I hope we all may live  
And die together yet. My duty, Madam.   Exit. Ba. 
I do not like their whispering, there's some mischief, he did so overact his courtesy, I'll look about us.  Pat. 

Do, honest Bard. Oh Madam, if you knew  
The difference betwixt my faith, and your  
Religion, the grounds and progress of  
What we profess, the sweetness, certainty,  
And full rewards of virtue, you would hazard,  
Nay, lose the glory of ten thousand worlds,  
Like this to be a Christian, and be blessed  
To lay your life down (but a moment, on  
Which our eternity depends) and through  
Torture and seas of blood contend, to reach  
That blessed vision at last, in which  
Is all that can be happy, and perfection.   Enter Bard. Qu. 
I have a soul most willing to be taught.  Ba. 

Oh Madam, fire, help, we are all lost,  
The house is round about on fire, the doors  
Are barred and locked, there is no going forth,  
We shall be burnt, and that will spoil my singing:  
My voice hath been recovered from a cold;  
But fire will spoil it utterly.   Enter Victor. Ang. Vict. 

Have no dread, holy Patrick, all their malice  
Shall never hurt thy person, Heaven doth look  
With scorn upon their treachery, thou art  
Reserved to make this Nation glorious,  
By their conversion to the Christian faith,  
Which shall by blood of many Martyrs grow,  
Till it be called the Island of the Saints;  
Look up, and see what thou observest.  
Milcho throwing his treasures into the flames.   Mil. 

Patrick, thou art caught, inevitable flames  
Must now devour thee, thouart my slave again,  
There is no hope to scape: How I do glory,  
That by my policy thou shalt consume,  
Though I be made a sacrifice with thee  
To our great gods; ha, ha, the Queen: Bard,  
You will be exc'llent roast meat for the Devil.   Pat. 
Hear me.  Mil. 

I choose to leap into these fires,  
Rather than hear thee preach thy cursed faith.  
You're sure to follow me, the King will praise  
My last act yet; thus I give up my breath, He burns himself.  
And sacrifice you all for his son's death.   Pat. 

Oh Tyrant, cruel to thyself, but we  
Must follow our blessed Guide and holy Guardian:  
Lead on, good Angel, fear not, virtuous Queen;  
A black night may beget a smiling morn,  
At worst to die, 'tis easier than be borne.   Exeunt. Recorders. The Altar prepared with Ferochus and Endarius, as before. King, Conallus, Archimagus, Priest, Ethne, Fedella, a sacrifice of Christian blood. Arc. 

Great Jove and Mars appeased be  
With blood, which we now offer thee,  
Drained from a Christian's heart, our first  
Oblation of that Sect accursed;  
And may we to the Altar bring  
Patrick, our second offering.  
The father of this Tribe, whose blood  
Thus shed, will do this Island good.  
The gods allow what we present;  
For see, the holy flame is sent  
To mighty Jove and Mars, now bring  
Your vocal sacrifice, and sing.   Song at the Altar. 

Look down, great Jove and God of war,  
A new sacrifice is laid  
On your Altars, richer far,  
Than what in aromatic heaps we paid:  
No curled smoke we send,  
With perfumes to befriend  
The drooping air, the cloud  
We offer is exhaled from blood,  
More shining than your tapers are,  
And every drop is worth a star.   

Were there no red in heaven, from the torne heart  
Of Christians, we that colour could impart,  
And with their blood, supply those crimson streaks  
That dress: the sky, when the fair morning breaks.   Enter Rodamant, and whispers the King, who falleth upon the ground. Con. 
Father.  Arc. 
The King.  Leo. 

Away. Let not my daughters stir from hence:  
Is this reward, you gods, for my devotion:   Exit with Conallus. Arc. 

No more: I could not by my Art foresee  
This danger.   Eth. 
Our father seemed much troubled.  Arc. 

I must appear a stranger to all passages,  
Be not disturbed, my princely charge, use you  
The free delights of life, while they are presented  
In these your lovers: Sirrah, make fast the door,  
And wait aloof; I'll follow the sad King.   Exit. Fed. 

No misery can happen, while I thus  
Embrace Ferochus.   Eth. 

And I safe in the arms  
Of my dear servant.   End. 
You make it heaven by gracing me.  Fer. 

But why have we so long  
Delayed our blessed enjoyings, thus content  
With words, the shadows of our happiness.   Rod. 

So, so, here's fine devotion in the Temple:  
But where's my bracelet, let me see?   Fer. 
Where's Rodamant?  Rod. 
Am I invisible again? Is this the trick on't.  Fer. 

The door is safe; come, my dear princely Mistress,  
And with the crown of love reward your servant.   Fed. 
What's that?  Fer. 
Fruition of our joys.  Fed. 

Is not this  
Delight enough, that we converse, and smile  
And kiss, Ferochus.   Rodamant kisses Fedella. 
Who's that?  Fer. 
Where, Madam?  Fed. 
I felt another lip.  Fer. 

Than mine? here's none, try it again:  
Why should her constitution be so cold?  
I would not lose more opportunities,  
Love, shoot a flame like mine into her bosom.   Eth. 
Who's that, Endarius, that kissed me now?  End. 

None, since you blessed my lip with a touch, Madam,  
My brother is at play with your fair sister.   Eth. 
I felt a beard.  End. 
A beard? that's strange.  Rod. 
You shall feel: some else too.  He strikes Endarius. End. 
Why that unkind blow, Madam?  Eth. 
What means my servant?  Rod. 
Now to my other gamester.  Fer. 

Oh, I could dwell for ever in this bosom, Rod. pulls Fer. by the nose.  
But is there nothing else for us to taste?  
Hold.   Fed. 
What's the matter?  Fer. 
Something has almost torn away my nose. Endarius?  End. 
What says my brother?  Fer. 
Did you pull me by the nose?  End. 

I moved not hence.  
Did you kick me, brother?   Fed. 

We have troubled fools sure, here's nobody  
But ourselves; the doors, you say, are safe.   Fer. 
won't that prompt you to something else?  Fed. 

I dare not understand you.  
What blood is that upon your face?   Rod. 
You want a beard, young Gentleman.  Fer. 

Mine? Blood; I felt something that like a fly  
Glanced o'my cheek:  
Brother, your nose bled you that fine beard.   End. 
You need not blush a' one side, brother, ha, ha.  Eth. 

Is not this strange, sister; how came our servants  
So bloody?   Fer. 

Again. I prithee leave this fooling with my face,  
I shall be angry.   End. 
I touched you not.  Rod. 
Another wipe for for you.  Eth. 

Some spirit sure:  
I cannot contain laughter: what a raw head my servant has?   Fed. 
Mine has the same complexion.  Rod. 
Put me to keep the door another time. I ha' kept 'em honest, and now I will be visible again.  Knock. Fer. 
Rodamant.  Rod. 

Here: I was asleep, but this noise waked me.  
ha' you done with the Ladies?  
Open the doors.   Within. Enter Priest. Pr. 

We are undone, my Lords, the King is coming  
In fury back again, with full resolve  
To break these images, his son is slain,  
And burnt to ashes since, in Milcho's house,  
And he will be revenged upon the gods,  
He says, that would not save his dearest son:  
I fear he will turn Christian: Archimagus  
Is under guard, and brought along to see  
This execution done, no art can save you.   Eth. 
We are lost too for ever, in our honours.  Leo. 
Break down the Temple doors.  Within. Pr. 
He's come already, we are all lost, Madam.  Fer. 

Tear off these antic habits quickly, brother,  
Do you the same. More blood upon our faces.  
Oh, my Fedella, something may preserve us  
To meet again: Endarius, so, so: open.   Enter King, Archimagus, Guard. Ferochius, Endarius confidently meet the King. Leo. 

Ha! keep off, more horrors to affright me,  
I must confess I did command your deaths  
Unjustly, now my son is murdered for it.   Fer. 

Oh do not pull more wrath from heaven upon you.  
Love innocence, the gods have thus revenged  
In your son's tragedy: Draw not a greater  
Up on yourself and this fair Island, by  
Threatening the temples, and the gods themselves,  
Look on them still with humble reverence,  
Or greater punishments remain for you  
To suffer; and our ghosts shall never leave  
To fright thy conscience, and with thousand stings  
Afflict thy soul to madness and despair:  
Be patient yet and prosper, and let fall  
Thy anger on the Christians, that else  
Will poison thy fair kingdom.   Kin. 

Ha, Archimagus, canst thou forgive me,  
And send those spirits hence?   Arc. 

I can, great Sir,  
You troubled Spirits, I command you leave  
The much distracted King; return and speedily,  
To sleep within the bosom of the sea,  
Which the king's wrath, and your sad fates assigned ye;  
And as you move to your expecting monument  
The waves again, no frown appear upon you,  
But glide away in peace.   End. Fer. 

We do obey  
Great Priest, and vanish.   Exeunt. Eth. 

Are they gone Fedella?  
They talk of woman's wit at a dead lift,  
This was above our brains I love him for't  
And wish myself in's arms now to reward him,  
I should find him no ghost a'my conscience:  
But where shall we meet next.   Fed. 
Let us away.  Exeunt. Kin. 

Art sure they are gone Archimagus? my fears  
So leave me, and religion once again  
Enter my stubborn heart, which dared to mutiny  
And quarrel with the gods; Archimagus,  
Be near again, we will redeem our rashness,  
By grubbing up these Christians, that begin  
To infect us, and our kingdom.   Arc. 

This becomes you,  
And if you please to hear me, I dare promise  
The speedy ruin of them all.   Kin. 

thouart borne  
To make us happy, how my dear Archimagus?   Arc. 

This Island Sir is full of dangerous serpents,  
Of toads, and other venomous destroyers:  
I will from every province of this kingdom  
Summon these killing creatures to devour him,  
My prayer and power of the gods, fear not,  
Will do't, by whom inspired I prophesy  
Patrick's destruction.   Kin. 

I embrace my Priest,  
Do this, and I'll forget my son, and die,  
And smile to see this Christians tragedy.   Exeunt.  

ACT. V.  Enter two Soldiers. 1 Sould. 
So, so, we are like to have a fine time on't, we may get more by every Christian we have the grace to catch, than by three months' pay against our natural enemies.  2 Sould. 
And their noddles be so precious, would all my kindred were Christians; I would not leave a head to wag upon a shoulder of our generation, from my mother's sucking pig at her nipple, to my great grandfathers Coshering in the pease straw. How did that fellow look whose throat we cut last?  1 Sould. 
Basely, and like a Christian, would the fellow they call Patrick had been in his place, we had been made for ever.  2 
Now are we of the condition of some great men in office, that desire execution of the Laws, not so much to correct offences and reform the common wealth, as to thrive by their punishment and grow rich and fat with a lean conscience. But I have walked, and talked myself a hungry, prithee open the secrets of thy knapsack, before we build any more projects; let's see what store of belly timber we have. Good, very good Pagan food: sit down and let our stomachs confer a while.  Enter Rodamant. Rod. 
royal My love is roasted, she died of a burning fever, & since poison won't work upon me, I am resolved to look out the most convenient tree in this wood to hang myself: And because I will be sure to hang without molestation or cutting down, which is a disparagement to an able and willing body, I will hang invisible, that nobody may see me, and interrupt my hempen meditations. But who are these? a brace of mankillers a munching; now I think what a long journey I am going, as far as to another world, it were not a miss to take provision along with me, when I come to the trick of hanging, I may weigh the better, and sooner be out of my pain: bracelet stick to me, by your leave gentlemen, what's your ordinary?  1. Soul. 
Who's that?  Rod. 
A friend, my brace of Hungarians, one that is no soldier; but will justify he has a stomach in a just cause, and can fight tooth and nail, with any flesh that opposes me.  2. Sould. 
I can see nobody.  Rod. 
I will knock your pate, fellow in arms, and to help you to see, open the eyes of your understanding, with a wooden instrument that I have.  1 Sould. 
I see nothing but a voice, shall I strike it?  2 Sould. 
No, 'tis some Spirit take heed and offend it not, I never knew any man strike the devil, but he put out his neck bone or his shoulder blade, let him alone, it may be the ghost of some usurer that kicked up his heels in a dear year; and died upon a surfeit of Shamrocks and cheese parings.  Enter Emeria. 1 Sould. 
Who's this, a woman alone?  2 Sould. 
And handsome, what makes she in this wood? we'll divide.  1 Sould. 
What the woman?  2 Sould. 
No, I'll have her body, and thou shalt have her clothes.  Eme. 

I know not where I am, this wood has lost me,  
But I shall never more be worth the finding:  
I was not wise to leave my father's house,  
For here I may be made a prey to rapine,  
Or food to cruel beasts.   2 Sould. 
No, you shall find that we are men; what think you? which of us two have you most mind to laugh and lie down withal.  Eme. 
Protect me some good power, more ravishers.  2 Sould. 
We are soldiers, and not used to compliment, be not coy but answer.  1 Sould. 
We are but two, you may soon make a choice.  Rod. 
You shall find that we be three, are you so hot?  1 Sould. 
Come humble yourself behind that tree, or—  Eme. 
Are you a man?  1 Sould. 
Never doubt it, I have passed for a man in my days.  2 Sould. 
Oh my skull.  1 Sould. 
What's the matter?  Eme. 
Where shall I hide myself?  hides herself. Rod. 
Your Comrade will expect your company in the next ditch.  2 Soldier. 
Are you good at that?  The second soldier strikes the first and Rodamant both. 1 Soldier. 
What dost thou mean?  2 Soldier 
What do I mean? what dost thou mean to beat my brains out?  1 Soldier. 
I: hold, it is some Spirit, and we fight with the air.  Rod. 
Cannot a Mare come into the ground, but you must be leaping you stone horses.  2 Soldier. 
My skull is as tender as a mully-puff.  1 Sould. 
He has made a cullis of my sconce, hold dear friend.  2 So. 
Has the devil no more wit than to take part against the flesh?  1 
The Devil may have a mind to her himself, let him ha' her.  2 
If I come back, let me be glibbed.  Exeunt reeling. Rod. 
Now Lady— what, is she invisible too? Ha. Well, let her shift for herself, I have tamed their concupiscence. Now to my business of hanging again.  Enter Spirit. 
I do like none of these trees; the Devil is at my elbow now, I do hear him whisper in mine ear, that any tree would serve, if I would but give my mind to't. Let me consider, what shall I get by hanging of myself, how it will be to no purpose, a halter will be but cast away, by your leave— I would not have you much out of the way, because here are trees that other men may hold convenient.— Oh, my wrist: 'Tis a spirit. Sweet Devil, you shall have it, the bracelet is at your service. Have I all my fingers? A pox on his fangs, now o' o' my conscience I am visible again, if the Soldiers should meet with me now, whom I have pounded, what case were I in? I feel a distillation, and would be heartily beaten to save my life.  Enter Conallus and Emeria. 
Here's one, for aught I know, may be as dangerous: A pox of despair that brought me hither to choose my gallows; would I were at home in an embroidered clout.— I'll sneak this way.  Exit. Em. 

I am no ghost, but the same lost Emeria,  
My Lord, you left me.   Con. 
Did not the flames devour thee.  Em. 

I felt no flame, but that which my revenge  
Did light me to, for my abused honour.   Con. 

Oh say that word again: Art thou revenged  
Upon thy ravisher? It was a god,  
Thou told'st me.   Em. 

But he found the way to death:  
And when I name him, you will either not  
Believe me, or compassion of his wounds  
Will make you print as many in my breast:  
He was—   Con. 

Say, fear not, wronged Emeria,  
Can any heart find compassion for his death,  
That murdered the sweet peace of thy chaste bosom?  
Oh never, I shall bless that resolute hand,  
That was so just, so pious; and when thou hast  
Assured, that he which played the Satire with thee,  
Is out o'th' world, and killed sufficiently,  
(For he that robbed thee hath deserved to die,  
To the extent of his wide sin) I'll kiss,  
And take thee in mine arms, Emeria,  
And lay thee up as precious to my love,  
As when our vows met, and our yielding bosoms  
Were witness to the contract of our hearts.   Em. 

It was your brother Coribreus, Sir:  
That name unties your promise.   Con. 

Ha! my brother?  
Sweet, let me pause a little, I am lost else.   Em. 

I did not well to enlarge his sorrow thus:  
Though I can hope no comfort in this world,  
He might live happy, if I did not kill him,  
With heaping grief on grief thus.   Con. 
He is slain then.  Em. 

If you will, Sir, revenge his death, you must  
Point your wrath here, and I will thank you for't;  
Though you should be a day in killing me,  
I should live so much longer to forgive you.  
This weak hand did not tremble when it killed him,  
And it came timely to prevent, I fear,  
The second part of horror he had meant  
To act upon me.   Con. 

would he had took my life,  
When he assailed thy chastity, so thou  
Hadst been preserved: I cannot help all this.  
Did it not grieve thee he deserved to die, hu?   Em. 
I took no joy, Sir, in his Tragedy.  Con. 
That done, thou fledst.  Em. 

I left my father's house,  
And found no weight hung on my feet for giving  
His lust the bloody recompense.   Con. 

Thou art happy:  
The gods directed thee to fly, Emeria,  
Thou hadst been lost else with my brother's ashes,  
And my dear mother, whom the hungry flames  
Devoured, soon after thy departure.   Em. 
How?  Con. 

I know not by what malice, or misfortune,  
Thy father's house was burned and in it he  
Did meet his funeral sire too, ha? Emeria.   Enter S. Patrick, Queen, and Bard. Ba. 
Your company's fair, but I'll leave you in a Wood, I could like your religion well; but those rules of fasting, prayer, and so much penance, will hardly sit my constitution.  Pat. 
'Tis nothing to win heaven.  Ba. 
But you do not consider, that I shall lose my pension, my pension from the King, there's a business.  Qu. 
Do not I leave more?  Ba. 
I confess it; and you will get loss by the bargain; but you that have been used to hunger, and nothing to live upon, may make the better shift. The less you eat, you say, will make the soul fat; but I have a body won't be used so: I must drink, and go warm, and make much of my voice, I cannot do good upon water and salads, keep your diet- drink to yourselves, I am a kind of foolish Courtier, Patrick, with us, wine and women are provocatives, long tables and short graces are physical, and in fashion. I'll take my leave, Madam, no Christian yet, as the world goes; perhaps hereafter, when my voice is a weary of me, I may grow weary of the world, and stoop to your ordinary say my prayers, and think how to die, when my living is taken from me, in the mean time  Sings. 

I neither will lend, nor borrow,  
Old age will be here tomorrow,  
'This pleasure we are made for,  
When death comes all is paid for:  
No matter what's the bill of fare,  
I'll take my cup, I'll take no care.  
Be wise, and say you bad warning,  
To laugh is better than learning,  
To wear no clothes, not neat is.  
But hunger is good where meat ù:  
Gìve me wine, give me a wench,  
And let her Parrot talk in French.  
It is a match worth the making,  
To keep the merry thought waking;  
A song is better than fasting,  
And sorrow's not worth the tasting,  
Then keep your brain light as you can,  
An ounce of care will kill a man.   
And so I take my leave.  Exit. Con. 
Ha! do I see the Queen, Emeria?  Pat. 

Alas, poor Bard, the flatteries of this world  
Hath chained his sense: thus many self-loving natures,  
Prisoned in mists and errors, cannot see  
The way abroad that leads to happiness,  
Or truth, whose beamy hand should guide us in it.  
What a poor value do men set of heaven?  
Heaven, the perfection of all that can  
Be said, or thought, riches, delight, or harmony,  
Health, beauty, and all these not subject to  
The waste of time; but in their height eternal,  
Lost for a pension, or poor spot of earth,  
Favour of greatness, or an hour's faint pleasure:  
As men, in scorn of a true flame that's near,  
Should run to light their taper at a glow-worm.   Con. 
'Tis she, and the good Bishop Patrick with her.  Pat. 
Madam, the Prince Conallus.  Con. 

Oh let me kneel to you, and then to Heaven,  
That hath preserved you still to be my mother;  
For I believe you are alive, the fire  
Hath not defaced this monument of sweetness.   Qu. 

My blessing and my prayers be still my child's,  
It was the goodness, son, of holy Patrick  
That rescued me from those imprisoning flames  
You speak of, his good Angel was our Conduct.   Con. 

To him that can dispense such blessings, mother,  
I must owe duty, and thus kneeling, pay it:  
May Angels still be near you.   Pat. 

Rise, Conallus:  
My benediction on thee; be but what  
Thy Mother is, a Christian, and a guard  
Of Angels shall attend thee too; the fire  
We walked upon secure, and which is greater,  
scaped the immortal flames, in which black souls,  
After their ill-spent lives, are bound to suffer.   Con. 

Sir, you shall steer me, and my mother's blessed  
Example will become my imitation.  
But there's a piece of silent misery  
Is worth your comfort, mother, and his counsel;  
She is, I dare not name how much dishonoured,  
And should have been the partner of my bosom,  
Had not a cruel man forbid my happiness,  
And on that fair and innocent table poured  
Poison, above the dragon's blood, or Vipers.   Em. 
My humblest duty, Madam  Pat. 

Dichu's Cell  
Is not far off, please you attend the Queen,  
We are bent thither.   Con. 

Yes: and as we walk,  
I'll tell you a sad story of my brother  
And this poor virgin.   Pat. 
Come, I'll lead the way.  Qu. 
With such a Guide we cannot fear to stray.  Exeunt. Enter Ferochus and Endarius. Fer. 
Where are we yet Endarius?  En. 

I cannot  
Inform you more, than that we are in the wood still.   Fer. 

And we are lost, our fear to die i'th' sight  
Of men, hath brought us hither with our blood  
To quench the thirst of wolves: Or worse, to starve.   En. 

We are in no fear to be apprehended  
Where none inhabit.   Fer. 

Now that lust is punished,  
Which fed our hope, if we had stayed i'th' Temple  
To have polluted it, with foul embraces:  
How weariness, with travel, and some fasting  
Will tame the flesh.   En. 
Stay here's a cave.  Fer. 

Take heed,  
It may be a Lion, or a fierce wolf's den;  
How nature trembles at the thought of death:  
Though it be pressed down, with the weight of life.   En. 
I dare not enter, a new fear invades me.  Fer. 

The worst is welcome, with our clamour, rouse  
whatever doth inhabit here, or man  
Or beast appear, if any such dwell in  
This Cave? We can meet charity or death.   Enter Dichu. Dich. 

What voice with so much passion calls me forth,  
Ha? Be my protection good heaven:  
My sons, my murdered sons with ghastly looks,  
And bruised limbs; why do you come to me thus  
To fright my withered eyes? 'las I was innocent,  
It was the King, not I commanded your  
Untimely death, I have wept for ye boys,  
And constantly before the Sun awak'd,  
When the cold dew drops full upon the ground,  
As if the morn were discontented too.  
My naked feet o'er many a rugged stone  
Hath walked, to drop my tears into the seas,  
For your sad memories.   Fer. 

We are no spirits, but your living sons,  
Preserved without the knowledge of the King,  
By Archimagus, till a new misfortune  
Compelled us hither to meet death, we fear,  
In want of food.   Dic. 

Are ye alive? come in,  
It is no time to be inquisitive;  
My blessing, I have something to refresh you,  
Course fare, but such as will keep out sad famine:  
Humble yourselves and enter, my poor boys,  
You'll wonder at the change; but we to Heaven  
Do climb with loads upon our shoulders borne,  
Nor must we tread on roses, but on thorn.   Exeunt. Enter S. Patrick, Queen, Conallus, Emeria. Pat. 

Now we approach the Hermit Dichu's Cell:  
Are you not weary, Madam?   Qu. 

Not yet, Father,  
In such religious company.   Pat. 

You were not  
Used to this travel; how does my new son,  
And sweet Emeria?   Con. 
I am blessed on all sides.  Em. 

You have quieted the tempest in my soul,  
And in this holy peace I must be happy.   Pat. 

You will be Spouse to an eternal Bridegroom,  
And lay the sweet foundation of a rule,  
That after ages, with devotion,  
Shall praise and follow. You are, Sir, reserved  
To bless this Kingdom with your pious government,  
Your Crown shall flourish, and your blood possess  
The Throne you shall leave glorious: This Nation  
Shall in a fair succession thrive, and grow  
Up the world's Academy, and disperse,  
As the rich spring of humane and divine  
Knowledge, clear streams to water foreign Kingdoms,  
Which shall be proud to owe what they possess  
In learning, to this great all-nursing Island.   Con. 
May we be worthy of this prophesy.  Pat. 

Discourse hath made the way less tedious,  
We have reached the Cell already, which is much  
Too narrow to contain us; but beneath  
These trees, upon their cool and pleasing shades,  
You may sit down; I'll call upon my Convert:  
Dichu, my Penitent, come forth, I pray,  
And entertain some guests I have brought hither,  
That deserve welcome.   Enter Dichu. Dic. 
I obey that voice.  Pat. 

The Queen, and Prince, and Milcho's virtuous daughter  
Gained to our holy faith.   Dic. 

Let my knee speak  
My duty, though I want words for my joy,  
Ten thousand welcomes; I have guests within too,  
You'll wonder to salute my sons, not dead,  
As we suppose, by heavenly providence,  
I hope, reserved to be made blessed by you,  
They are here. Enter Ferochus and Endarius.  
Your duties to the Queen and Prince,  
Then to this man, next to our great Preserver.  
The Patron of us all.   Pat. 

A happy meeting:  
I must rejoice to see you safe, and here:  
But tell us by what strange means, all this while,  
You have been preserved? Sit down.   Soft Music. Con. 
What music's this?  Qu. 
'Tis heavenly.  Pat. 

And a preface to some message,  
Or will of Heaven, be silent, and attend it:  
Such harmony as this did wait upon  
My Angel Victor, when he first appeared,  
And did reveal a treasure under ground,  
With which I bought my freedom, when I kept  
Unhappy Milcho's swine; Heavens will be done.  
What, all asleep already? holy dreams  
Possess your fancy, I can wait no longer.   Enter Victor, and other Angels. Song, Vict. 

Down from the skies,  
Commanded by the Power that lies  
The world and nature in a chain,  
We come, we come, a glorious train,  
To wait on thee,  
And make thy person danger-free:  
Hark whilst we sing,  
And keep time with our golden wing,  
To show how earth and heaven agree,  
What echo rises to our harmony.   Vict. 

Holy Patrick, sleep in peace,  
Whilst I thy Guardian, with these  
My fellow Angels, wait on thee,  
For thy desence: A troop, I see,  
Of serpents, vipers, and whate'er  
Doth carry killing poison, here  
Summoned by Art, and power of hell;  
But thou shalt soon their fury quell,  
And by the strength of thy command,  
These creatures shall forsake the Land,  
And creep into the sea; no more  
To live upon the Irish shore.   
Once more then.  Song. 

Patrick, sleep; oh sleep a while,  
And wake the Patron of this I'll.   Enter King, Archimagus, and other Priests. Arc. 

Your person shall be safe; fear not, great Sir,  
I have directed all their stings and poison:  
See where he sleeps, if he escape this danger,  
Let my life, with some horrid circumstance,  
End in this place, and carry all your curses.   Enter Serpents, etc. creeping. 

What think you of these creeping executioners?  
Do they not move, as if they knew their errand?   Kin. 

My Queen! my son Conallus! Dichu! ha!  
And the still wandering ghosts of his two sons!   Arc. 
They are alive, Sir.  Kin. 
Ha, who durst abuse us?  Pr. 

Will you not have compassion of the Queen,  
And the Prince, Sir?   Kin. 
How met they to converse?  Arc. 
They are all Christian.  Kin. 

Let the serpent then  
Feed upon all, my powerful Archimagus.   Pat. 

In vain is all your malice, Art, and power  
Against their lives, whom the great hand of Heaven  
Deigns to protect; like wolves you undertake  
A quarrel with the Moon, and waste your anger:  
Nay, all the shafts your wrath directeth hither,  
Are shot against a brazen arch, whose vault  
Impenetrable, sends the arrows back,  
To print just wounds on your own guilty heads.  
These serpents, (tame at first and innocent,  
Until man's great revolt from grace released  
Their duty of creation) you have brought,  
And armed against my life; all these can I  
Approach, and without trembling, walk upon;  
Play with their stings, which though to me not dangerous,  
I could, to your destruction, turn upon  
yourselves, and punish with too late repentance.  
But you shall live, and what your malice meant,  
My ruin, I will turn to all your safeties,  
And you shall witness: Hence, you frightful monsters,  
Go hide, and bury your deformed heads  
For ever in the sea; from this time be  
This Island free from beasts of venomous natures:  
The Shepherd shall not be afraid hereafter,  
To trust his eyes with-sleep upon the hills;  
The travellers shall have no suspicion,  
Or fear, to measure with his wearied limbs  
The silent shades; but walk through every brake,  
Without more guard than his own innocence.  
The very earth and wood shall have this blessing  
(Above what other Christian Nations boast)  
Although transported where these Serpents live  
And multiply, one touch shall soon destroy 'em.   Leo. 
See how they all obey him, Archimagus.  Arc. 

Confusion: All my Art is trampled on.  
Can neither man, nor beast, nor Devil hurt him?  
Support me, fellow-Priests; I sink, I feel  
The ground bend with my weight upon it, ha!  
The earth is loose in the foundation,  
And something heavy as the world doth hang  
Upon my feet, and weigh me to the Centre.  
A sire, a dreadful fire is underneath me,  
And all those fiends that were my servants here,  
Look like tormentors, and all seem to strive,  
Who first shall catch my falling flesh upon  
Their burning pikes: There is a power above  
Our gods, I see too late. I fall, I fall,  
And in my last despair, I curse you all.   Sinks. Kin. 
Patrick, the King will kneel to thee.  Pat. 

Oh rise,  
And pay to Heaven that duty.   Kin. 

Canst forgive?  
Let me embrace you all, and freely give  
What I desire from this good man, a pardon.  
Thou shalt no more suspect me but possess  
All thy desires. The ground is shut again:  
Where now is Archimagus? How I shake,  
And court this Christian out of fear, not love?  
Once more visit our Palace, holy Father.  
The story of your sons, and what concerns  
Your escape, Madam, we will know hereafter;  
I'th' mean time be secure.   End. Fer. 
We are your creatures.  Omnes. 
Our prayers and duty.  Pat. 

I suspect him still;  
But fear not, our good Angels still are near us:  
Death at the last can but untie our frailty;  
'Twere happy for our holy faith to bleed,  
The Blood of Martyrs is the church's seed.   Exeunt Omnes.  

The Epilogue.  

howe'er the Dice run Gentlemen, I am  
The last man borne, still at the Irish game:  
What say you to the Epilogue? may not I stay,  
And boldly ask your Verdict of the Play?  
I would report the Sunshine on your brow,  
And the soft language of the die t'allow  
Our labour and your Story, native known;  
It is but justice to affect your own;  
Yet this is but a part of what our Muse  
Intends, if the first birth you nobly use:  
Then give us your free votes, and let us style  
You Patrons of the Play, him of the I'll.   
FINIS.