THE TRAGEDY OF ALBOVINE, KING OF THE Lombard's: By Wm. D'avenant.  
LONDON, Printed for R. M. and are to be sold in Saint Dunstanes Church-yard. 1629.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE earl OF Somerset, &c.  
My Lord,  
YOu read this Tragedy, and smiled upon't, that it might live: and therein, your mercy was divine; for it exceeded justice. My Numbers I not show unto the public Eye, with an ambition to be quickly known; (for so I covet noise, not fame) but that the world may learn, with what an early haste, I strive to manifest my service to your Lordship. I have imaginations of a greater height than these, which I do also dedicate to your Lordship. And I shall live in vain, unless you still continue to acknowledge  
Your humblest Creature, D'avenant.   

UPON THE TRAGIC MUSE OF MY HONOURED FRIEND, Mr. Wm. D'AVENANT.  
Our stately Tragic Scene (whose high disdains  
Slight humble Muses) courts thy lofty strains:  
And with ambitious love doth climb thy bays,  
Whose ample branches her bright glory rays:  
Whence (as from Heaven) her spacious Eye doth view  
Of storied tears, and blood, the heavy crew,  
How low they crawl, while she (far more Divine!)  
Sides great Sejanus, and fierce Catiline:  
Where, in calm virtue, she more sweet doth show  
Then jove, when he in Golden drops did flow:  
But if in Stygian Lake her veins she steep,  
Her act infernal runs so horrid deep,  
As saints Medea: makes th' Herculean rage  
Seem a tame patience to thy ravished Stage.  
Had stern Achilles breast such fury known;  
His Story had turned Miracle, and grown  
Too much for his great Poet, unless Fate  
Had racked his spirit up to thy high rate.  
Rash Imitation at thy heavenly Air,  
Entombs faint Envy in a just despair.  
Hen: Blount.   

To his friend, Mr. Wm. D'avenant.  
WHy should the fond ambition of a friend,  
With such Industrious accents strive to lend  
A Prologue to thy worth? Can aught of mine  
Enrich thy Volume? Th' hast reared thyself a Shrine  
Will outlive Pyramids; Marble Pillars shall,  
Ere thy great Muse, receive a funeral:  
Thy wit hath purchased such a patron's name  
To deck thy front, as must derive to Fame  
These Tragic raptures, and indent with Eyes  
To spend hot tears, t'enrich the Sacrifice.  
Ed. Hide.   

To my honoured Friend, th'Author, on his Tragedy of the warlike Albovine.  
GReat Albovine, whose Fate in war had cut  
His passage through the neighbouring Earth, and shut  
Large Provinces within his grasping palm,  
Had sunk from honour in the patient calm  
Of a long silenced Fame, had not thy pen  
(With soaring language) raised him up again.  
He vows, by cool Elysium (from whence  
He breathed the valiant oath) he would dispense  
With all those joys that court his soul, to fling  
His opened breast upon the poisonous sting  
Of rougher wars, if the triumphant bays  
Sprung from thy ink, might crown his second praise.  
This is a poet's height; conquest by thee  
Described, becomes a double victory.  
Rich: Clerk.   

To my deserving Friend, the Author.  

WEre those Tragedians, whom the world so fame,  
For their ingenious and admired strain,  
Alive, to see this Poem, and thy Name;  
Ashamed they'd die, finding their Lines too vain.   

Were that pure Spring the winged hoof brought forth,  
Wanting supply, dried up, thy abler Pen  
Would work a second wonder by its worth,  
In making it a running stream again.   

Be then assured, this Tragic strain shall live  
A pattern for th' next age to imitate,  
And to the best wits of our times shall give  
Just cause of envy, for thy learned Fate.   
Rob: Ellice.   

To his noble Friend, th'Author on his Tragedy of Albovine.  
THe gelid North grows warm, and by thy fire  
Cold ignorance exiled. The Virgin Choir  
O' th' soft-haired Muses leave the Thespian Spring,  
To tread a funeral Measure, whilst you sing  
This Tragic story. With sad plaints of love  
Famed Orpheus charmed rude heaps, did Cedars move,  
Forced Mountains from their station: but thy Pen  
Hath now amazed the fiery souls of men.  
Will: Habington.   

To my Friend, Mr. D'avenant.  
SCarce home returned, but straight I find great Fame  
Airing her wings to spread abroad thy Name.  
One of the Nine (before of me ne'er seen,  
Sure sent by thee) assaults my merry spleen  
With mighty Verse; and makes me laugh at those  
That are so dull, to melt their thoughts in Prose.  
I wish her prosperous flight, may she return  
With happier wings, if happier may be worn.  
My flame is spent. I dare not undertake  
Thy praise, who am but newly for thy sake  
A fierce Poet, and doubtless had been one  
ne'er but for thee, or else had been unknown.  
Rog: Lorte.   

To his much-honoured friend, the Author.  
LEt not loud envy's sulphurous blasts cast forth  
venomed aspersions, on thy noble worth:  
'Gainst saucy Critics thou needest no defence,  
Whose sacred lines, armed with sweet eloquence,  
Are proof against their censures, who'd profane.  
With their bold breath, the glory of thy strain:  
Wise came shall sing the praise of thy deserts,  
And voice thee glorious both in Arms and Arts.  
Whilst thou, released from the war's sad mishaps,  
Rests in soft dalliance on the muse's laps;  
Those beauteous ladies' love shall high advance  
Thy fame, whose worth exceeds my utterance.  
Their Tragic falls, who in thy Scenes appear,  
Shall on these Monuments fair Trophies rear  
Unto their Fame. Thus are thy works become  
To be to them, as their Elysium.  
Tho. Ellice.   

To his worthy friend, Mr. Wm. D'avenant.  
HAst thou unmasked thy Muse? And shall the Air  
Breathe on her matchless Fabric? then repair.  
To some soft censure, lest the churlish sense  
Of Ignorance accrues thy recompense;  
And hoodwinked Error do surprise the Fame  
Due to thy Story, and Verona's name,  
Whose limits Pliny's and Catullus bred,  
But in thy Muse her joys are centupled:  
For her invention, truth, rare wit, and state;  
Copper-laced Christians cannot personate.  
Her Tragic Scenes, like well-tuned Chimes i'th' Sky,  
Leave Time loud Echoes of thy memory.  
H: Howard.   

The Actors in this Tragedy.  

Albovine, King of the Lombard's.  
Paradine, A captive Soldier, his Favourite.  
Hermegild, A captive Statesman, the queen's Favourite.  
Grimold, A rough old Captain.  
Gondibert, A Captain, his friend.  
Vollterri, A Soldier, friend to both.  
Cunymond, A Courtier.  
Conrad, His Companion.  
Frollo, His Companion.  
The Governor Of Verona.  
Rhodolinda, captain, and Queen to Albovine.  
Valdaura, Wife to Paradine.  
Thesina, A Court-Lady.  
A Page To Paradine.  
A Gentleman, A Messenger.  
The Guard, Servants, and Attendants, &c.   
The Scene, Verona.   
THE TRAGEDY OF ALBOVINE, KING OF THE Lombard's.  

Act the first. Scene first.  Enter Paradine, Grimoald, Gondibert; the Drums ceasing. Paradine. 
Give the word aloud?  Grimo. 
Stand?  Within. 
1. Stand! 2. Stand! 3. Stand!  Parad. 
Our motion has been swift: we  
outmarch Time.  
Verona, (which with the morning's dim eye  
We seemed to view like Landscape, afar off)  
Is our full object now. She must repent;  
Our King is Steward unto Fate; the world  
Receive from him their destinies.  Grimo. 
Sure, the Governor sleeps. My Lord, is't fit  
We wait upon such Silkworms, creped in wool?  Parad. 
Since we attained the Town not by assault,  
But composition free, he shall express  
Humility enough to meet us at the Gate.  Enter Hermegild. Gondib. 
Here comes Hermegild.  Herm. 
Haile, young soldier! My noble Paradine!  
The King must hold my nature much excused,  
If I do greet his safe approach with love,  
Less violent than I express to thy  
Rich soul. I am resolved thou art in health,  
And favour with thy stars.  Parad. 
Ere I return your kind salute, I would  
After your fair charge inquire. Say the Queen  
Smiles in captivity, my Valdaura  
Hurts not her health with grief; then I have heard  
Enough to make me cherish life.  Hermig. 
Rhodolinda doth become her title  
And her birth. Since deprived of popular  
Homage, she hath been Queen o'er her great self.  
In this captivity ne'er passionate  
But when she hears me name the King, and then  
Her passions not of anger taste, but love:  
Love of her Conqueror: he that in fierce  
Battle (when the cannon's sulphurous breath  
Clouded the day) her noble Father slew:  
Our Royal Master once; now sunk into  
His soil; where like the Lily withered,  
He never shall renew his growth again.  
My memory disturbs my Tongue! Your fair  
Valdaura makes the Queen her rare and just  
Example, and is in patience skilful.  Parad. 
Know, Hermegild, no hasty minute passed  
(Since their captivity) wherein I failed  
To be a suitor to the King for both.  
But he's in kindness prompt, and still doth speak  
Like Music, when he Rhodolinda names:  
You hear 'tis his edict we call her Queen?  Herm. 
Thy vanquished Country owes unto thy fame  
A tall Pyramid! The captived virgins  
Of our Nation shall in their last Dirges  
Sing thy praise with mirth. O, I could grow old  
Within thy sight. Something we now must talk  
Together, and heaven will listen to't,  
As to the breath of Saints—  Parad. 
I knew we should have use of conference:  
Which made me beg the leading of the Van,  
The more t'assist our opportune meeting.  Herm. 
Afford your ears in private.  Grim. 
Though Paradine look flourishing, and like  
A thing new brushed; a flame of triumph,  
(As if his father surfeited in some  
o'ergrown City when he got him) yet he  
Hath in him seeds of war, bold thoughts, and we  
I'th' Camp, esteem him honest too.  Gond. 
He is our king's Minion, sleeps in his bosom.  Grim. 
True, & the Royal fool greets him with such  
Ravenous kisses, that you would think, he meant  
To eat his lips.  Gond. 
The Captive captivates the Conqueror.  
Three Moons have not expired their usual change,  
Since he was prisoner to the King; though now  
His Favourite.  Grim. 
thouart too loud! If thou'lt talk safely, go get  
A sore throat; hoarse men speak low.  
The captived Rhodolinda, (whose father  
Albovine deprived of life and kingdom)  
Hath with such amorous subtlety behaved  
Her gesture, that Albovine is now her  
Prisoner. This martial progress was but made  
To visit her. She makes him guilty of  
Idolatry, and knows the thrifty use  
Of time: as she ascends, her Countrymen  
Must rise.  Gond. 
You have called that Hermegild her Creature?  Grimo. 
He was her father's Councillor; a man  
Created in the dark: he walks invisibly;  
He dwells in Labyrinths; he loves silence:  
But when he talks, his language carries more  
Promiscuous sense, then ancient Oracles.  
So various in his shapes, that oft he is  
Disguised from his own knowledge. An error  
Much incident to humane Politics,  
Who strive to know others more than themselves.  Gond. 
Observe their compliment.  Grimo. 
Pox o' these French jigs? Courtiers always dance.  
This is to Hermegild mere lechery:  
This wanton gesture doth obscure  
Thoughts of such consequence and weight, as hang  
Like Plummets on his heart. Paradine is  
A soft, easy fool, and must be gulled.  Herm. 
O my sweet Lord—  Grimo. 
Now the Motion speaks.  Herm. 
Such endearments would too much impoverish  
My gratitude: yet, 'tis meet our actions  
Carry smooth equality: your consent  
Must further all my Suits You are the king's  
jewel, and hang richly in his ear.  Parad. 
You are precious unto her, whom loud noise  
Already calls our Queen: fair Rhodolinda!  
We may (if they prove natural and kind)  
Govern the Nation that hath conquered us;  
Gain our Country liberty, and yet  
Not stray from noble Arts: such hopes our free  
Embraces prophecy. The King.  Loud music. Enter Albovine, Frollo, Conrade, Vollterri, &c. Frollo. 
Your Troops (Sir) are so divided into  
mixed files, that to the City you do march  
Between thick walls of men.  Albou. 
Let my Horse-guard bring up the Rear. We'll sport  
With war. We have no use of safety now,  
But of magnificence.  Vollterri. 
The order is already given. It was  
Your Royal will, we hasten in our March,  
Therefore each Squadron double their paces.  Albou. 
My Boy, I bring thee home my chief Trophy:  
Thou dost delight me more than victory.  
Retire. I am in love too violent.  
My embraces crush thee, thou art but yet  
Of tender growth—  Parad. 
My Countryman would kiss your Royal hands,  
And then expect no greater happiness  
Till he arrive in heaven. He hath done your  
Rhodolinda service— Presents Hermeg. on his knee to the King.  Herm. 
Rhodolinda is your humblest captive.  
She inserts you often in her prayers,  
And called it my chief duty to present  
Her true service to your Majesty.  Albou. 
Her name doth enrich our Language. My boy  
Can witness that I love her: she makes me  
Prattle in my sleep: I've drunk Mandragora,  
To become drowsy, in hope that I might  
Dream of her. Rise, and expect Honour.  Enter Governor of Verona. Governor. 
High and sacred Majesty! Verona  
Hath unhinged her wide Gates: proud to admit  
The fate of Kingdoms. Our crooked Matrons  
Forget their age: and (as the ragged Earth  
At the Springs warm approach) look fresh, & young,  
To entertain you. Our timorous Virgins  
(With the bold Youth) join in one wanton Choir  
To sing your welcome.  Grimo. 
How the Spaniel fawns, 'cause he dares not bark?  Gouer. 
Th'amorous Vine clips not the shady Poplar  
With such regard (about whose mossy waste  
She hangs a smiling Lover.) Our City is  
By the reflection of your blessed approach  
Like Pelion decked, whom Tython's Mistress  
(Leaving the weeping East) with brightness guilds.  
There's not a wrinkle left in all Verona,  
Wherein pale sorrow, or rebellious envy  
Can find their loathed Mansion. Flattering joy  
Swells big each loyal bosom. All implore  
You as their safety; who hath hushed the noise  
Of discord, and loud war.  Grim. 
The Rascal flatters, as if he had served  
His prenticeship in Court.  Albou. 
thoust done me justice, Governor, & know'st  
The way to make me thankful, but not proud.  
I understand thou hast with honoured safety  
Preserved those jewels to thy charge committed,  
(My Rhodolinda, and my Boys Valdaura.)  
And so increased new motives of our thanks.  Gouer. 
Heaven has made your memory too humble,  
Thus to record your creatures service.  Albou. 
Let now the knotty labourer rust with ease,  
And aloud proclaim, that the upland Boor  
Release his Teem, and his industrious Plough.  
Let him sing glad io's to the rustic  
Powers that guard his fields, and unto me.  Gouern. 
It is by you we are: no warlike Ram,  
Nor battering engine forced a bloody entrance  
Through our thick walls. It was the powerful breath  
Of your victorious fame, that conquered us.  
To that we yielded: which as a rough blast  
That posts from the cold Arctic Pole, hath borne  
Before it captived Nations.  Albo. 
By heaven a good old man! if he be learned,  
I'll have him write my Annals.  Grim. 
Indeed he looks like a Chronicler.  Albou. 
Paradine? Inform him of my deeds.  
Thou hast beheld my discipline full of  
Shape and order, when confusion did oppress  
The foe, and stifled them in throngs. Hah! Look!  
Rhodolinda's come to guild our Triumph!  Enter Rhodolinda, Valdaura, Thesina, and Attendants in mourning. Parad. 
And my Valdaura too! let Nature show  
A third object so delightful, we'll swear  
She is not old, nor her first materials  
Wasted, but in creation still retains  
Her former strength and skill.  Albou 
But why (my beauteous Captive) art thou still  
In Sables wrapped?  Rhodo. 
Your stars bid you be happy. My cross fate  
Like the Raven, croaks a funeral note:  
This swarthy habit, but paints forth the grief  
That chains my soul in darkness. And filial love  
Commands me mourn for him, whom you too soon  
Deprived of life, my conquered father.  Albou. 
Let his ashes rest  
At quiet in their Urn. His ghost long since  
Hath washed away the memory of his fate  
In slow-paced Lethe. Take me, modest fair,  
Into thy bosom. O hide me there!  
My glad soul, how full is thy content?  
Now thou feared thing, that guid'st the heavenly Empire,  
Rend all the murmuring clouds, and dart  
Thy Thunder at me: I am safe.  Rhodo. 
My captivity must needs seem easy,  
Whilst the Conqueror proves so kind.  Albo. 
I could gaze thus on thee, till my wonder  
Did convert me into marble; and yet  
My soul would in herself retain a fire,  
Lively as that which bold Prometheus stole.  
Were the Sea coagulate, and the world  
Returned to th' antic Chaos, a blind Lump;  
Thy look would force the warring elements  
Into a sacred order; and beget  
A harmony like this they now enjoy.  Rhodo. 
You are too powerful in you speech.  Albo. 
Yet when I value thus thy excellence,  
Let me not forget my own high being.  
I've humbled all the Nations of the earth;  
Brought home as spoils the whole wealth of Nature:  
Yet, Rhodolinda, nought like thee. Let me  
Whisper my content, for soft music most  
Delights the female ear. They walk aside.  Parad. 
Why, my dear Valdaura, dost thou suspect  
My warm embraces? Let hungry death cease  
On my honour, before it cease on me,  
If in my breast I entertain a thought  
Unlawful.  Vald. 
I esteem you (Sir) a friend to virtue,  
And in that hope would cherish all your love.  Parad. 
In thy fair brow, there's such a Legend writ  
Of timorous chastity, that it doth blind  
Th'adulterous Eye. Not the Mountain Ice,  
(Congealed to Crystal) is so frosty chaste  
As thy victorious soul, which conquers Man,  
And Man's proud Tyrant-passion. But I am  
Too rough for Courtship, the soft harmony  
Which wanton Peace instructs the Tongue to make,  
I have forgot. Trust me (bright Maid!)  
I love thee dearly. Though I've found thy heart  
Like Pebble, smooth, but stony.  Valda. 
I've heard my mother say: the curled Youth  
Of Italy, were prompt in wanton stealths,  
And sinful Arts. Till Time had given me  
Assurance of your noble thoughts; 'twas safe  
To doubt your love. But now I wish I were  
More worthy, and then would prove more liberal  
Of myself.  Parad. 
Let me enjoy thy hand! that moist Adamant  
That so attracts my soul! We will (ere night  
Her black Curtain draws) make complete this love,  
With marriage Rites.  Albo. 
How now, Boy! Is my interest so decayed  
In your young person, that you give away yourself  
Without my leave!  Parad. 
Humbly on my knee, I beg the vulgar  
Privilege due to all hearts. To love, and not enjoy,  
Is a torture, I cannot suffer long,  
And still remain possessed with breath.  Albou. 
Thou hast showed me physic for my passion.  
Take him, Valdaura, and be proud! 'tis I  
That love him: nor shall your joys be single.  
I'll make the number yet more full. This day  
We'll consecrate to Hymen's use. Behold  
Your Queen (who though my Captive) for her birth  
And beauty, is the first of Queens.  Gouer. 
High Heaven increase your joys!  Herm. 
And may you live together until Time  
Shall sicken with his age.  Frollo. 
Conrad. Long live Albovine, King of the Lombard's!  Herm. 
Cry up Rhodolinda too!  Frollo. 
Conrad. Live Rhodolinda, Queen of the Lombard's!  Alb. 
Governor! 'tis our will that you expect  
Honour, and true safety. Your City's love  
I shall perceive by popular noise, and your  
Behaviour in this great solemnity.  
Let the Sun smile; the Wind sport with our Plumes!  
This day let sickmen too forget to groan.  
Let all glad Hymns in one mixed concord sound,  
And make the echoing heaven your mirth rebound.  Exeunt all, but Grimold, Vollterri, Gondibert. Grim. 
The King's head must now convert to rotten wood.  Gond. 
Why, Grimold?  Grim. 
That Court earwigs may live there, and devour  
His brains. Dost not perceive how they begin  
To creep into his ears?  Gond. 
Generous souls are still most subject to  
Credulity.  Grim. 
He is a German in his drink: busied  
With a wanton pride, which his Flatterers  
Admire for mirth, but his friends do pity.  Vollt. 
He should be told his sins.  Grim. 
By whom? Vollterri, now the King forsakes  
The Camp, he must maintain luxurious mouths,  
Such as can utter perfumed breath, and these  
straight compose a faction, engross his ears.  
They limit still his conversation.  
even as the slow finger of the Dial  
Doth in its motion circular remove  
To distant figures: so by a subtle  
Leisure, they do prefix the hours,  
When he must change his rotten Parasite,  
For one more skilful, how t'admire, and praise.  
No honest Tongue can ever interpose  
To tell him he is mortal.  Gond. 
It is the chief misery of Princes,  
ne'er to understand their own crimes, to sin  
In ignorance.  Grim. 
True, his Confessor, that in sight extern  
A Patriarch seems, will gain by flattery,  
And superscribe unto the King, as to the Pope  
(His holiness.) But Gondibert,  
Whom Conclaves here in Court do canonize  
For Saints, will scarce be admitted in heaven  
For Angels.  Vollter. 
Now Rhodolinda is become his Rival  
In high Sovereignty, she will permit  
No errors but her own: The King must mend  
What she mislikes.  Grim. 
She gives us leisure to expect  
Her character. Women make themselves more known  
When they do rule, then when th' obeyobey.  Gond. 
Valdaura is enriched with a sweetness  
So religious, that Paradine must sin  
In private, or need no mercy.  Grim. 
thoust named her! Though my obdurate sufferance  
In active war hath quite deprived me of  
All amorous gesture. Though not these forty  
Winters, I have seen any of her sex  
But Suttlers wives, who, in stead of Fillets,  
Wrap their sooty hair in horses' girts. Though  
My marrow is frozen in my bones,  
Yet I melt before her eyes. When I see her,  
I grow proud below the Navel. For she  
Is none o' th' French Nursery, that practice  
The sublime frisk. None o' your jigging Girls,  
That perch paraquitoes on their fists,  
And ride toth' Court like Venus' Falconers.  Gond. 
Grimold, hoarse men speak low, thou hast not caught  
A cold yet.  Grim. 
She's none of those that on their heads advance  
High, swaggering Plumes, like a gay fore-horse  
In a Country Teem. O, she's worth the tempting!  Vollter. 
Dost thou so commend her virtues, and yet  
Wouldst thou tempt her unto vice?  Grim. 
That's a trick I learned of the devil. Those  
That are virtuous, need his temptation,  
The wicked have power enough to damn themselves.  Gond. 
Hark how they shout! Away Grimold, or we  
Shall lose the Triumph!  Shouting within. Grim. 
Room for Cuckolds, whose horns are so high,  
They bore the Moon, as she frisks in the sky!  Exeunt omnes.  

Act the second. Scene first.  Enter Grimold, Gondibert, Vollterri. Grim. 
This Peace makes me rotten, dusty  
As a Cobweb. I live like a Cricket  
i'th' corner of an Oven. Pox o' these o'ergrown  
Cities. To be valiant here, is to forfeit  
The Statute: and these furred gowns hold,  
There is no sin so great as poverty.  Gond. 
Thou art as melancholy as a lean judge!  Grim. 
ay, or a corrupted Officer, at the noise  
Of a Parliament. In this division  
Of unvalued Trophies, Territories  
Vast and ample, (gained partly by my sweat)  
Not a single Acre falls to my share.  Enter Cunymond, Frollo, Conrade, Servants with a Banquet. Cuny. 
Bear back there! They thrust as if they meant  
To get me with child—  Frollo. 
You sirrah! d'ye get the king's officer  
With child?  Conr. 
Bear back there! or we'll put ye to the charge  
Of Surgery—  Cuni. 
Dispatch, fellows!  Gondib. 
Is not that Cunymond?  Grim. 
The same. He is a great ginger.  
The mere Anatomy i'th' front o'th' Calendar.  
You may know where the Sign is, by some toy  
In's habit, which he removes, as the Sign  
Removes.  Cuny. 
Frollo, did they enter here by your permission?  Frollo. 
Not by mine, Sir.  Cuny. 
Nor yours, Conrad?  Conrad. 
They are men of China for aught I know.  Cuny. 
Then they must out. Gentlemen, pray avoid  
The Presence.  Grim. 
'S death Sir! d'ye make us your Voiders?  Vollter. 
Must we carry away your Cheeseparingss?  
Thrust your Bodkins forth!  Gond. 
Draw i'th' Presence? Art thou mad?  Grim. 
How he stands? he is created of Starch,  
And dares not use a boisterous motion,  
Lest he should fall in Rumples.  Cuny. 
Sir, you may speak like a Cannon! but you  
Shall either go, or—  Grim. 
Or what, Sir?  Cuny. 
Or stay, Sir.  Conrad. 
By heaven he shall do one, Sir—  Frollo. 
Nay, Captain, do not look, as if you'd drunk  
Vinegar. You must, or go, or— stay Sir—  Loud knocking. Cuny. 
hay! we are tumbling in a Drum.  
Within .fellows o' the Guard, make way there! Officers!  
Open the door—  Cun. 
Bear back there! Gentlemen! what d'ye mean?  
Pray bear back—  Loud Music. Enter Albovine, Rhodolinda, Paradine, Valdaura, Hermegild, Thesina, &c. Herm. 
Phoebus will be thought more rash than Phaeton,  
If now he hasten to the West. Sir, this  
Glorious day, merits well a longer age,  
Then what is limited to all within  
Our Calendar.  Albo. 
Hermegild, thy free heart adds to our triumph!  Grim. 
Sir, I've some few words, I needs must utter:  
Since my last services in Hungary,  
You remain on my Tally six thousand  
Ducats: I'm loath to score up still, and pay  
myself with my own Chalk.  Albo. 
Wouldst have thy Soul dismissed a natural way?  Gri. 
I would not starve, look, like a parched Anatomy  
Sowed in a Kidskin. Pay your debts, Sir!  Albo. 
I never met with boldness, until now!  
My courage is quite puzzled!  Grim. 
Do your ears blister to hear this? My breath is  
Wholesome. I cannot tipple like a Duck  
In a green Pool. Nor feed on Berries in  
A Hedge, like some lost remnant o' my fathers  
Scattered lust. Sir, pay your debts!  Albo. 
Sure, thou art some spirit! I cannot kill thee!  Grim. 
In this division of the Lands, I helped  
To conquer; I am not furnished with  
A Molehill for a pillow.  Albo. 
Hermegild sat chief in the Committee  
For division of those Lands: bid him reward  
Your service: beside, I mistake the custom,  
Or 'tis my treasurer's office to pay  
My debts, not mine.  Grim. 
No Sir, (thanks to your Royal thrift) it is  
Your office to pay all; your treasurer's  
Custom to pay nothing. Thrusts him away.  Albo. 
Do not interrupt my marriage Rites!  Grim. 
I cannot take your reference for payment.  Albo. 
Would thou wert dead!  Grim. 
Sir, I'll make my Ghost, my Executor,  
And walk after death, ere I'll lose my money.  Albo. 
Sit, my Rhodolinda: This is thy Sphere!  
In th'absence of the Sun, we must receive  
Our light from thee. Paradine, thy Bride expects  
Thy service.  Parad. 
Sh'as an ill bargain on't, to rule one night,  
And ever after to obey.  Her. 
Captain, though the King be prompt in mercy,  
Yet hath he so much anger in him,  
As will express him mortal. 'tis for your  
Safety, to avoid the Presence.  Grim. 
I'll bribe your Lordship with a Ginny Toothpick!  Herm. 
You must repent this language.  Parad. 
He must not, Hermegild!  Herm. 
How, my Lord!  Parad. 
These whom you number in your faction,  
Enjoy, by your assistance, proud structures;  
And fertile Granges, to maintain their gaudy  
Riot. Sir, you had a frail memory,  
Or a degenerate heart, when you forgot  
His merit; might you incorporate those in one,  
The sordid bulk could ne'er make up his shadow.  Hermeg. 
I am prescribed my discipline in Court!  Parad. 
Grimold, away! 'tis my desire you leave  
The Presence.  Grim. 
I am obedient (Sir) to your desire.  Gond. 
'Slight, thou hast made a brave retreat.  Vollt. 
I looked when both of us should taste  
Of immortality.  Exeunt Grimo. Gond. Vollt. Herm. 
He that inflamed this fire, will scorch his busy  
Fingers. My Lord, it was unkindly done  
T'affront my anger thus: but I have hope  
It is your last fault.  Parad. 
I cannot reckon it among my faults.  
Sir, you involve your meaning in your speech.  
The world shall find me honest.  Herm. 
You are a Bridegroom now.  Albo. 
Hermegild, make your anger known,  
For else your frowns will cause your loyalty  
To be suspected. This night should be as smooth  
And pleasant, as that to which we owe our blessed  
Nativity.  Herm. 
Sir, you are great on Earth! I am merely  
Your creation. My passions do afford  
Your high delight all sympathy.  
Old Time hath thrown his feathers from his heels,  
And slowly limps in's motion to prolong  
This Triumph: but if Paradine affront  
Hymen, and me with sullen rage, it shall  
Be called my piety to suffer.  Rhodo. stands up. Rho. 
How! your Excellence ought t'excuse my speech!  
When your victorious sword deprived me of  
My Father; I entered to captivity,  
As to th'oblique shade, where death inhabits.  
Till you allowed me Hermegild; who with  
His high Philosophy did make  
My bondage sweet. My Father loved him well:  
He was his noblest Servant, and must not  
For his virtues suffer, until your sacred tongue  
Forbid me share with you in Sovereignty.  Albo. 
Boy, this was a bold crime. You must not give  
Me cause to chide my fond heart. Valdaura,  
Urge him to proffer friendship  
Unto Hermegild; you are powerful  
o'er his nature. I have deserved to lose  
My chief prerogative—  Vald. 
I am too timorous to deal with anger:  
If he prove stern of nature, my Marriage  
Is my funeral. My Lord!  Herm. 
Paradine, I've an humble love. I will  
Present it first to your refusal—  Parad. 
I want your phrase, to make my manners seem  
Less rugged. All that is love, I cherish  
With such religious heat, as my Valdaura  
Claims, since our young Nuptial—  Albo. 
This embracement is a sacrifice  
To thee my Queen: whose deity  
Consists of love. Sit, and with your  
Persons, straight entrench the Table. Some wine!  
Fill in my German Plate; I'll drink as when  
I'm hot with victory. This to my Bride—  Cuny. 
Sound high!  Albo. 
More wine, and noise! Now Boy, I celebrate  
Valdaura's health—  Cuny. 
Bid their Instruments speak louder.  
They're afraid to wake the Neighbours.  Albo. 
This is legitimate blood of the rich  
Corsic Grape: precious as thy tears  
(My Royal Girl) when thou art penitent  
To heaven. Whilst the King talks, they drink.  Herm. 
Spare me in the next, and I'll esteem you  
Courteous; so much wine will put me to the charge  
Of Physic.  Cuny. 
Your Lordship owns it as a prime virtue—  Albo. 
Shall the world bleed? but frown, and thou renew'st  
A Chaos. Malign the pride of some far  
Eastern Queen, whom Travellers bely,  
And I will forage there, like loud thunder!  
Or like the Northern wind upon the Main,  
Where lazy Hulks are tossed like chips.  Rhodo. 
I merit no such compliment.  Albo. 
I'll do't. 'tis thought, I am immortal.  
The chief of my great Ancestors, that made  
A wild incursion o'er this fertile soil,  
Was but a type of me. More wine!— Thy breath  
Is as the smoke of spices. I taste thy  
Melting lips, and straight engender kisses.  
Heart! Boy, you are too ravenous!  Parad. 
I ever held your Majesty my best  
Example. Kisses nimbly gathered,  
The faster grow.  Herm. 
The Lombard's use to share this sport! He kisses Thesina.  Albo. 
Is not your name Pigwiggin?  Cuny. 
Pigwiggin! your Grace was wont to call me  
Cunymond: I am no Fairy.  Albo. 
Nor I the King of Fairies. 'Slight, sir, d'ye  
Present me with a Cup, made, o'th' bottom  
Of an Acorn, or Queen Mabb's Thimble?  
Fill me a bowl, where I may swim,  
And bathe my head, then rise like Phoebus from  
The Ocean, shaking my dewy Locks.  
A health to Caesar's memory. Boy, do me  
justice, or thou affront'st my Triumph!  Parad. 
Conrad, the King will drown us all!  Conr. 
You've now, Sir, but the moiety of his draught.  Rhodo. 
Though Fame lends you her Trumpet, gives you leave  
To speak your own praise, you cannot utter more  
Than my belief shall warrant.  Albo. 
Now thou whisperest like the amorous Lute!  
I am the Broom of Heaven, when th'world grows foul,  
I'll sweep the Nations intoth' Sea, like dust.  
Thy father was magnanimous, and great  
King of the Girpides. Yet his title  
Sat not so nobly on him, as my conquest.  
Know, his unkind fate, was his chief glory:  
For it was I that slew him; and thou his  
captived Daughter art my Queen.  Rhod. 
Sir, if you continue this narration,  
I shall weep.  Albou. 
Do, weep! then on my heartstrings I will thread  
Thy tears in stead of Pearl: such a wealthy  
Bracelet, love would present unto his Queen:  
And she tuck up her sleeves, to show her gaudy wrists.  
More wine! Bring us the Bowl of Victory.  Exit Cunymond. Paradine kneels. Parad. 
Sir, you engaged your Royal word, never  
To present that fatal object.  Albo. 
Paradine, do not resist my pleasure.  
I'll crush thee into Air.  Parad. 
I am in my ambition virtuous,  
If I desire t'expire a sacrifice  
To loyalty. Sir, ruin what you made,  
But do not violate your Vow.  Albou. 
Hence! I shall delight in fury!  Enter Cunymond with a Skull, made into a drinking-bowl. 
Welcome, the horrid Trophy of my chief war!  
Rhodolinda, I'll try thy fortitude.  
This was thy Father's Skull: thou shalt pledge a health  
Unto his Ghost. He drinks: all rise up.  Rhod. 
O fatal! my eyes shrink within my brow!  
I gather Agues like the Spring, and tremble  
Like the unlicked Lamb, newly yeaned upon  
A sheet of Snow.  Vald. 
Hide me, Paradine! the object doth so  
Penetrate, that when I wink, I spy it  
Through my Lids.  Albou. 
Tame, feeble Soul! Will she not pledge  
What we do celebrate? Return her person—  Cunym. 
Madam, the King— Strikes him, and exit.  Rhod. 
The King's a Tyrant, and thou his slave.  Frollo. 
That's a favour, Signior.  Cunym. 
I wear it as a jewel in my ear.  Parad. 
Fly, dear Valdaura; sweeten her censure  
Of this act, and mediate for the King.  Vald. 
Thesina, prithee help me in discourse;  
My wonder (Wench) doth so disturb my speech,  
I fear I shall grow dumb.  Thesi. 
The work is pious we attempt.  Exeunt Vald. Thes. Her. 
The harmony of your sweet tongue is his  
Best physic: divorce him from those black thoughts,  
Whilst I employ my utmost skill, to win  
The Queen to his embraces. She's great of Soul,  
And may determine what my fond heart laments  
To prophesy.  Parad. 
You're my best Countryman, kind and loyal.  Exit Herm. Albo. 
So pale and timorous! I'll sooner couple  
With a Mandrake, and beget groans.  Parad. 
My Royal Lord!  Albo. 
Hah! Am I alone? Have they all left me?  
Where is my Empire? Do I govern in  
The vacant Air?  Parad. 
Sir, am I lost unto your memory?  
You were wont to trust my service: the way  
Unto your Couch lies here—  Albo. 
None shall be proud but I. My smiles revive  
The dead: but when I frown, the living straight  
Melt into Ghosts.  Cunym. 
Lights for the King there!  Parad. 
Cunymond, you are too officious! The king's  
Departure must be private.  Exeunt Albo. Parad. Frollo. 
The King is light enough himself: he needs  
No Torches.  Cunym. 
And heavy enough! for he seems to reel  
With his own weight.  Conrad. 
No Masks! No Epithalamion now!  
Call for a Bonesetter, for Time hath sprained  
His feet, and goes awry.  Exeunt omnes. Enter Rhodolinda, Hermegild. Rhodo. 
O Hermegild! a general eclipse  
In Nature, would not seem so horrid!  
To cut those cordial strings which Hymen had  
But newly tied.  Her. 
ay, there's the horror! whilst his Vows sat warm  
Upon his Lips; his breath not mingled yet  
With cooler Air; thus to perturb by stern  
Practice your sweet rest, was worse than perjury.  Rhod. 
To present my Royal Father's Skull,  
In drunken Triumph.  Herm. 
Take heed! you will distract your memory.  
There's a Record, Time strives to lose; and Fame  
To hide beneath some oblique fold in her  
Thick Volume, as loath to discredit all  
Mankind. Your father valued you next to  
His interest in heaven. I've seen the good  
Old King search for his picture in your eyes; than—  Rhod. 
No more: Patience is sinful now. Thou art  
Deeply read and wise: instruct me to be bold,  
For Albovine hath taught me to be cruel.  Hermeg. 
You're now by holy Church incorporate;  
Therefore Divinity forbids me use  
My natural motions. How ere I think  
It fit, you give him direful cause, soon to  
Repent: Repentance sure is physic for his soul.  Enter Paradine, Valdaura. 
Paradine and 's young Bride! Your excellence  
Shall please that we retire: whilst I disguise  
My kind gesture, and seem to flatter in  
The king's behalf—  Parad. 
To bed soft modesty! I will myself  
Deliver to the Queen the King's intent.  Vald. 
Sir, the King is cruel. Should you prove so  
To me, I'd soon distil my soul to tears,  
And weep an Ocean deep enough to drown  
My sorrows, and myself.  Parad. 
'Twere stern guilt to doubt my nature. Fair Saint,  
To bed, I long to lose my Youth in warm  
Embraces, and ere the pearly Morn appear,  
Make thee a teeming Mother. To bed! with winged haste  
Expect my presence.  Exit Valdaura. Herm. 
How smooth appears the Brow of Youth!  Parad. 
Haile Rhodolinda! the Royal Mistress  
Of this night. Thus Albovine (our great King) bade  
Me say, You're dearer to his eyes then light.  
Though every Bride may claim from Hymen  
Privilege to rule her Lord, till Hesperus  
Appear, and cancel her brief Charter.  
Yet he doth humbly beg, you'll not infringe  
The Lombard's custom, whose Virgins never vow  
A continence the Nuptial night.  Rhod. 
I yet want your meaning.  Par. 
'tis his chief hope that you will straight expect  
His person in your bed.  Rhod. 
How! lie with him? I'll sooner choose a Mansion  
In a sepulchre: There commit incest  
With the raw remnant of my father's bones:  
Sooner embrace an airy Incubus:  
Mingle Limbs with some ulcerous Cripple,  
Able to infect an Hospital.  Parad. 
O take heed! Take heed, fair Majesty! let not  
His rash sin provoke you to intend so dire  
An abstinence: ere yet the wine hath lost  
Th'unruly operation. The King disclaims  
His wanton pride, and mortifies himself  
With sullen grief.  Rhod. 
Canst thou suspect, I will prove inconstant,  
To what in cold temperance I determine?  Parad. 
Heaven avert you should approve your error.  Rhod. 
I'll kneel, and vow with all solemnity—  Herm. 
O hold! 'twere black impiety in us  
To suffer such a horrid crime. You may  
Inform the King of my religious loyalty,  
Already I have used persuasive speech  
To reconcile this odds: but she grows wild,  
Repugnant to all mercy.  Parad. 
As you esteem your Royal self, or us,  
Who (when kinder Planets ruled) were servants  
To th'unhappy King your father; cherish  
No more this anger in your breast, lest Time  
Afford it growth and violence, till it  
Disturb the world.  Herm. 
He counsel like a sacred Oracle.  Parad. 
I will inform the King, your continence  
You only celebrate to this black night,  
And give him hope, that you'll hereafter smile,  
His kind enticements meet with equal heat,  
And fertile love. Though I'm unhewn, and shaped  
In war, this softens all my faculties—  Rhod. 
Stay, Paradine; didst thou not name my Father?  Parad. 
I did with a devout remembrance!  Rhod. 
And thou know'st how thy good Country suffers?  Parad. 
I think on it, and my heart hangs heavy  
On its strings; galls them with its sullen weight.  Rhod. 
Hermegild oft receives certificate  
From some in bondage there, which writ in Prose, do,  
I'th' reading into Verse dissolve: so sad  
The business is, so fit for elegy.  Hermeg. 
So sad a Requiem yet was never sung,  
Though the hoarse Raven, and the Whistler shrill,  
The owlet, and the evening Dorr made up  
The fatal Choir. The young men there are yoked  
In pairs, and stretch their sinews in a Teem,  
To draw the wealthy harvest to the Grange,  
Where th'insulting foe resides. The aged  
(Heretofore in purple clothed) that disposed  
Of Law and justice; are now sowed up  
In dunghill clouts; and dwell on parched hills,  
To tend the flocks; whose fleece the Victor wears  
In gaudy triumph.  Parad. 
O harsh captivity! Our Country groans!  
Till now I thought the Conqueror 'gan to ease  
Their bondage, not add to the weight of their  
Compelled burdens.  Rhod. 
The King's a stern Tyrant.  Parad. 
Yet he hath used me still with gentle power,  
ta'en me from the cold Earth, and warmed me in  
His bosom: and Hermegild has full cause  
To bless his bounty. But you (now our Queen)  
He values next to heaven; howe'er this rash  
Error strives to disgrace his love. We are  
His captives too; heretofore not heeded  
By our Stars; though we now grow tall with titles  
And his favour.  Herm. 
My Lord, the King is kind! Our memories  
Were frail, should we forget what hath so much  
Pertained unto our knowledge. I'm so fond  
o'er my Religion, I dare not taste  
Ingratitude: yet give me leave to say,  
You may mistake his love unto the Queen.  
The dry Tartar, who yokes his females neck  
With rusty Iron, not with carcanets  
Of threaded Pearl; whom he preserves for physic  
More than increase; will the first night of their  
Conjunction, feast her in's embroidered tent;  
Call her Sovereign; and like some amorous wind,  
Sport with her hair.  Rhod. 
But my Nuptial the King did celebrate  
In Golgotha, where Skulls, and dusty bones  
Inhabit.  Herm. 
You're skilful in the deeds that appertain  
To strength and fury; but they that aim  
At victory in Court, must practise smooth  
And subtle Arts. Wise Favourites do walk  
I'th' dark, and use false lights. Nay, oft disguise  
Their breadth and stature; seem lesser than they are:  
For know, the slender Worm, or nimble Grig,  
May wriggle down into th' oblique, and low  
Descent o'th' narrow hole; whilst th'o'ergrown Snake  
Peeps at the brim, but ne'er can view the bottom.  Rhod. 
Think on thy Country, Paradine! Is there  
In Story no mention of some great Soul,  
That did his Country prize above his own  
Mortality, and died to gain his Nation Freedom?  Herm. 
The Noble Brutus for his Countries' health,  
Made Cesar bleed; Cassius was heroic too,  
And had in war loud Fame, which he increased  
By mingling in this Act.— 'tis wrought with skill,  
And apt leisure. His thoughts grow numerous,  
And engender horrid shapes; such as fright  
His fancy.  Rhod. 
Paradine, good night!  Herm. 
Hymen and your Bride, will blame your tardy  
Service. Sweet Lord, a thousand times good night.  Exeunt Herm. and Rhodolinda. Parad. 
False unto me! when Thunder wakes the dead:  
When the Sky looks swarthy: the clouds like ink  
In water poured: when the Earth seems to stand  
As in a gloomy shade. When the wind blows  
Till it grows hoarse: till it convert  
And sprinkle Seas even to a Dew; then I  
Shall try the King, and fathom his wide Soul.  
If he start, complain of his mortality,  
Kneel oft; and pray aloud, as Heaven  
Were deaf: if thus, I will conclude him false.  
For horrid storms that tyrant's waking keep,  
Do rock the noble Conscience safe asleep. Exit.   

Act the third. Scene first.  Enter Rhodolinda, Valdaura, Thesina. Vald. 
I knew your Excellence did visit me  
For mirth and laughter.  Rhod. 
So early up? Your Lord is temperate.  Thes. 
I should like their tempers better, if she  
Were down, and her Lord up.  Vald. 
Fie, Thesina, your tongue's unruly.  Rhod. 
The morning might have shown me too for mirth,  
Had not the false King made the night so sad.  
Black fancy fly!  Thes. 
She moves as she were sick, this skirmish has  
Much weakened her.  Rhod. 
Dost thou call't a skirmish?  Thes. 
ay, Madam, a French skirmish; where th' onset  
Is hot and fiery, but the retreat cold and tame.  Enter Hermegild. Herm. 
Madam, the King?  Rhod. 
Hah!  Herm. 
He greets your Excellence in a smooth phrase,  
And begs, you will permit his early visit.  Rhod. 
I'd rather lose my eyes then see him.  Valdaura kneels. Vald. 
When you did triumph in your father's Court,  
My entreaty then had power to alter  
Your commands; reward my young service  
With kindness to yourself. When the tall  
Cedar falls, with burly weight it strikes  
The neighbouring shrubs, low, into the ground:  
So we that spring like Rushes near your root,  
Must in your death receive a funeral.  Rhod. 
what's this? D'ye moralize?  Vald. 
The King may have his anger warranted.  
For heaven forbids such wild division  
'tween those whom holy Church unites.  Rhod. 
Hark, Thesina! She has been gossipping  
With the holy Sisters: she preaches to me  
Of Matrimonial zeal. Troth Valdaura,  
If thy husband do infuse such schism,  
I'll practise a divorce.  Thesina. 
We Court Ladies grow so squeamish after  
We have tasted Man. Your Majesty may  
Much profit her behaviour, if you  
A while divide her from her Lord.  Herm. 
So soon? Ere Time permits them second  
Their embraces?  Rhod. 
I Hermegild. If those embraces do  
Include such high delight, such rhapsody;  
She makes me envious then; since all my hopes  
Are widowed by the King. tonight, Valdaura,  
You are to sleep beneath my Roof. This I  
Impose as a command.  Exeunt Rhodo. Thesin. Herm. 
Is not this a harsh compulsion?  Vald. 
Sir, I willingly obey it. But as  
You're Noble, use your ablest skill, t'instruct  
The Queen how of her anger to dispose  
A safer way, than 'gainst the King.  Herm. 
Alas! I'd rather cut my Eyelids off  
To prevent sleep then lose one minute that  
Could advantage a design so pious.  
And be it part of your kind charity,  
T' endear me to your Lord. 'tis all the pride  
In my ambition to do him service.  Vald. 
Sir, he already knows your worth, and thinks  
Your friendship precious. Exit.  Her. 
I kiss your fair hands. The King already come?  
I must seem pensive as the night.  Enter Albovine, Paradine, Cunymond, Frollo, Conrade. Albo. 
She's lost, my Boy: blown from my fist: her wings  
Have gathered wind: they fly (like those of Time)  
Swiftly forward, but never back return.  Parad. 
Sir, I have hope, she will repent this breach  
Of duty, and court your Royal smiles again.  Albo. 
Is it a sin to drink? Nature has given  
To fishes a prerogative, greater  
Than we enjoy. They can ever tipple  
And not be drunk.  Cuny. 
Fishes are dumb (Sir) they never fox themselves  
With talk.  Albo. 
Slave! thy mirth is treacherous! Paradine!  
Thou hast consumed tonight the wealth of love,  
Wasted thy lips in moist kisses, embraced  
A warmth, that would give life to marble.  
Whilst I, (like the solitary Phoenix)  
Expect no heat but in my funeral flame:  
And strive t'engender of myself. Yet Boy,  
Thou canst not make me envious; thou art more  
Delightful; then my Rodolinda's sins.  
Let me survey those blue circles: his lids  
Fall down, as if weighty Plummets hung on  
Their sins. Thou art not temperate. Preserve  
Thy dear eyes. Love was pictured blind, because  
It makes men blind. I hug thee as my health—  Parad. 
He bruised me in his arms. Can love express  
Such violence, and yet be false? Hermegild  
Still whispers in my ear, the King doth hate  
Thee, Paradine. But Hermegild is read in all  
The Arts of Court, and strives perhaps  
My sense to poison with lean jealousy.  Herm. 
Sweet Lord! Y' appear blushing like the Morn!  
Something your Bride and you have done t' increase  
The number of the Worthies.  Parad. 
He courts me too! I want a Perspective,  
To draw these distant figures near my sight.  
I ne'er shall sleep again.  Albo. 
Hermegild, thy aspect shows ominous!  
How thrives our embassy?  Herm. 
I have consumed my breath, till I grew faint,  
And wept to invite her mercy; but tears  
Were spilled like water in the Forge, only  
T' enrage the fire. She doth abjure your visit.  Albo. 
Harsh, Iron, nature!  Her. 
The King seems fettered in his limbs: he wreathes  
His arms, as if he meant to bruise his heart.  
And Paradine doth find my charms predominant.  Albo. 
He that drinks, forfeits his mortality!  Enter Grimold. Grim. 
How Sir, must we not drink?  Albo. 
Soldier, to keep thy bladder moist, I will  
Permit thee gape i'th' morning's face, and catch  
Her mizzling tears.  Grim. 
If you'll extirpate this vice of drinking,  
Give order for a privy search i'th' the Ocean;  
There dwell the greatest drinkers. The Whale (Sir)  
Drinks deeper let's hale her on shore, and impound her  
In a Cistern.  Albo. 
Good! we will embark for Sea. I press thee up  
For this employment.  Grim. 
Stay (Sir) ere I engage myself in new  
Services, pay me for my old. You rest  
Upon my Ticket, six thousand Ducats;  
And I have not seen your Majesty's face  
In any other metal, but your own  
Flesh and blood these three months.  Albo. 
Thou grumblest like a grey Wolf.  Grim. 
'tis then for hunger, Sir.  Herm. 
Captain, you mistake the King. He's Royal  
As his blood, and liberal as the Sun  
That shines on all. This unruly breath, where  
The City meet in council, might perhaps  
Blow their Purse-strings loose, so fill the Exchequer.  
And than you shall number your pay with your own  
Fingers.  Grim. 
I will outroar thunder, or the Cannon!  
Must they still walk in wealthy Furs; whilst men  
Of merit here are clothed in cabbage leaves?  Parad. 
Grimold, you endanger your friends.  Grim. 
My Lord, give losers leave to speak. I've lost  
My youth and blood i'th' wars, and I want food,  
A reverend Ass bears my wife and her young eggs  
In Paniers up and down the streets. I travail  
Like a Tartar, with all my family  
About me. Nay, nay, nay! you would be gone!  Albo. 
Art thou not yet dead?  Gri. 
You must not move, till you've paid me. I know,  
You may be angry with more safety than I.  
Bid some Colossus of your Guard cleave me  
With his Falchon; yet I shall steal a passage  
o'er the black River, when Charon slumbers,  
And fright your Grace.  Alb. 
I dare not strike thee (old man) lest thou shouldst fall  
To dust, and choke me.  Grim. 
Good King, pay me. I love thy Grace:  
And will fight for thee, whilst I've motion left  
To stir a feather. My want constrains me to't.  
By this hand, I'm fain to eat Bran and Parsley  
Like a tame Rabbit.  Herm. 
Lend me your ear, Captain!  Grim. 
You'll entice me now t'enter into bond?  Herm. 
You look indeed like a young heir. Well, Sir,  
Value me according to my true rate.  
I am your friend. You make ill choice of hours  
For help of your design. The King hath now  
Sad and tumultuous thoughts about his heart.  Grim. 
Great men are always sad, when they should pay  
Their debts.  Herm. 
Sir, you interpret ill. Grow more sober,  
Then challenge all my power in your behalf.  Grim. 
He that receives a kindness from the Devil,  
Shall be sure to lose by his gains.  Cuny. 
Captain, you should choose a luckier minute:  
The King is now in love.  Grim. 
With whom?  Frollo. 
With the Queen.  Grim. 
In love with his own wife! that's held incest  
In Court: variety is more luscious.  Albo. 
Be powerful in thy speech, my Paradine,  
Yet gentle too. She is the Star that rules  
My faculties.  Par. 
The Queen will bless your temperance, & repent.  
Hermegild is too busy: he must be more  
At leisure, and I more active.  Exit Parad. Albo. 
Hermegild, wear thy senses near us—  Grim. 
Your Majesty has a frail memory  
To forget me so soon—  Her. 
You'll forfeit me, and the king's mercy! away!  Exeunt Albovine, Hermegild. Grim. 
'tis no piece of unkindness to wish thee  
In hell, for all thy friends dwell there. thoust none  
Upon the earth. Gentlemen will you be open to me?  Cuny. 
In all parts, Sir, but our purses.  Grim. 
Draw near! let us communicate our hearts!  
Does not that wealth, which you disburse for powders,  
Perfumes, clothes, and physic for the face,  
Return with gain?  Frollo. 
Expound your Riddle, Sir.  Grim. 
Have you not each a Mistress that maintains  
You in expense and riot? Hah? Fame gives  
It out, you smooth Gallants are much obliged  
Unto the sins of Ladies.  Cuny. 
Conrad can prattle somewhat, Sir, to that  
Purpose.  Conr. 
Good faith you do me wrong. I've worn, Sir,  
A Lady's slipper in my hat, or so.  
Frollo is the man that gets their Pendants,  
Armlets, Rings, and all the Toys of value.  Frollo. 
Excuse me, sir, not I. Signior Cunymond  
Has all the voice at Court. We know, Sir, when,  
And where, a certain Duchess, Sir;  
You copulate with Titles, you.  
The Heralds are your Bawds.  Cuny. 
Hold! grow particular in such a Theme as this!  Grim. 
Well, Gentlemen, I must be furnished too.  Cuny. 
With a Mistress?  Grim. 
Yes, inquire me out some old Land-Carack.  
I am content to stretch my loins for a  
Pension.  Cuny. 
At what rate do you value yourself?  Grim. 
I was never pawned, Sir.  Cuny. 
How, Captain!  Grim. 
In this lean age, we value all things  
According to the rate, they pawn for.  Frollo. 
But we must know, how much you would receive  
In price of your activity?  Conrad. 
You must never stray after fresh pasture.  Grim. 
Some eight; ay, ay, eight hundred Crowns a year will do't.  
I am desirous of no more than will  
Maintain my jennet, and my Dwarf.  Cuny. 
Your excuse procured, 'tis fit you now tell,  
How far in your defence I may engage  
My honour: is not your flesh a little tainted!  
Are you not unwholesome?  Grim. 
O death, no; no, no, no! Do not think I have  
A conscience so ill bred, to put myself  
Upon a Lady, when unfit for the affair.  Cuny. 
Well, Captain, now with your own eyes survey  
Your limbs; what use can a Lady have  
Of you? To propagate the Cough o'th' lungs?  Frollo. 
Or beget Cripples, to people an Hospital?  Conrad. 
Or produce another Nation that may  
Wage fierce battle 'gainst the Cranes?  Grim. 
Yet I can follow your bodies with rough  
Motion, and not shed my limbs by the way—  Cuny. 
I told ye, he'd make a jest on't.  Grim. 
But I will kick ye in earnest,— kick ye  
For my exercise and warmth— till my toes  
Grow crooked—  Exeunt omnes. Enter Valdaura, reading to herself, then Albovine, Hermegild. Herm. 
Pursue Valdaura, Sir.  Albo. 
I hate these jiggeries.  Herm. 
You know, I am material in my speech,  
Full of duty; you want the silken garb,  
That must endear you to the lady's eyes.  Albo. 
Yet I am loving in my drink.  Herm. 
Greet her kindly, Sir: 'tis paradine's Bride.  
You have not seen her since she endeavoured  
To increase the number of your subjects,  
With loss of her virginity.  Albo. 
Rhodolinda doth so engross my love,  
That on other Ladies I've but little  
To bestow.  Herm. 
Sir, practise but your Courtship here. In troth  
You must affect the amorous Cringe, gestures  
Smooth and pliant; it will never do else.  
I've heard the Queen complain, you are too rough:  
And what these Ladies do observe, will take  
A sudden flight unto her ear. Strike but  
Their senses gently with your tongue. Often  
flatter'em, and with a vigorous breath;  
They'll then implore the Queen in your behalf:  
And, Sir, th' endeavour of their praise will soon  
Procure your peace.  Albo. 
If they would soften Rhodolinda's heart,  
And reconcile me to her smiles, I would  
Grow fond, and dally then with all the Sex.  Herm. 
Begin your trial. If you salute this,  
(And other Ladies too) with some impression on  
Their lips; with managing their fingers thus,—  
With seizure on her wrist; as if you had  
Some business with her Pulse: than you inchant.  
Be flexive in your smiles, and wanton like,  
Seek pictures in their eyes: and when they move,  
Then with personal conduct, guide their feet.  
'Mongst them you cannot seem too cheap. They will  
Admire you for't, and sing your praises to  
The Queen.  Albo. 
I shall be taught to spin, and starch!  Herm. 
The engine's now compact; each wheel doth move  
With silent screws. The Mole's the subtle Pioneer:  
For when she undermines the earth, her slow  
Motion makes no noise. Exit.  Albo. 
You're devout, Vauldaura. Teach me to pray:  
We have no leisure for't in war; and 't has  
Been long time out of fashion here in Court.  Vald. 
I fear I make some breach of duty with  
Your Excellence, to hinder thus  
The passage of your Royal thoughts.  Albo. 
You teach me now, t'excuse my own abrupt  
Demeanour; but I can do't. My harsh Queen  
(Whom the perspicuous Eye of heaven forgive)  
Doth much mistake the posture of my limbs,  
And gesture of my tongue among your Sex.  
I never use, like rugged Polypheme,  
To dandle Cubs. Thus, I can gently touch  
A lady's lips— yet make no battery on  
Her teeth. Was it not an airy pressure?  
Tell my proud Queen, I've lost my Iron garb,  
And now am grown thus fond and smooth.  Vald. 
O Royal Sir, her cruelty hath put  
My eyes unto th'expense of many tears.  Albo. 
ay, but in vain! Those clouds must weep apace,  
That mean to penetrate the Marble, or  
The Flint. I wear no Gauntlet on my hand,  
Why should you think that I would bruise  
Your fingers with my touch— Sports with her hand.  Enter Hermegild, Rhodolinda. Rhod. 
Is this Paradine's Garden?  Herm. 
I Madam, and your Excellence may find  
A sudden growth, in all that shadows us.  Rhod. 
Hah I look there!  Herm. 
What is 't your eyes so eagerly discern?  Rho. 
The King! How sportful he is grown? how full  
Of amorous game and dalliance?  Herm. 
I spy Valdaura there: but is that the King?  Rhod. 
Thou dost inquire, t'affront my sight.  Albo. 
You must inform the Queen of this: Say, I  
Am smooth, and musical, and trim, and that  
I talk no more of war, nor drink.  Vald. 
'tis my duty to urge all circumstance,  
That may credit you in her esteem.  Albo. 
It is a piece of courtship to salute  
At parting— Kisses her. exit Valdaura.  Rhod. 
Is that a safe conjunction in so hot a climate!  Albo. 
Hell and death! What raw discipline is this?  
I should conduct her in her way— Exit.  Rhod. 
So violent in pursuit of your game?  
Let's follow, Hermegild?  Herm. 
Not for all the Sun beholds in's journey  
Through the world—  Rhod. 
Why? be nimble in thy speech!  Herm. 
It shows but silly art in industry,  
To seek what you would not find.  Rhod. 
I pray thee grow particular! Dost think  
They purpose aught i'th' dark? or, was this same  
But ceremonious form! such a greeting  
As courtship will admit in public interview?  Herm. 
The King was never given to compliment,  
You know. As for Valdaura—  Rhod. 
What of her?  Herm. 
I think that she is chaste, but—  Rhod. 
Do not involve thy language thus  
In periods of suspense.  Herm. 
I wish the King had not deserved to be  
Deprived of your soft embraces, than  
He might have kept his constitution tame.  Rhod. 
O, is it so?  Herm. 
It ill becomes the garb of Majesty,  
To run thus neighing (like a riotous Horse)  
After each female that he spies.  Rhod. 
Why, does he use it?  Herm. 
Madam, you question me, as if what I  
Declare, were to your knowledge new and strange.  Rhod. 
By heaven and so it is.  Herm. 
O my officious Soul! must it be my crime  
To give the information up? would I  
Had known the King was here, you should have made  
Another path, your walk.  Rhod. 
Hermegild, you did misspend that breath.  Herm. 
Alas, you had enough of grief before.  
This addition will but show a tyranny  
In fate and me. It works with height, like new  
Mighty wine! as if 't would split the Cask.  Rhod. 
O perjured, black, adulterous King! affront  
My Father's Ghost? Disturb his Ashes in  
His tomb? When drunk with pride, he mocked me with  
The gaudy title of a Queen, and now  
I am become a stale for all his lust.  
Valdaura too! so pure of heart (forsooth)  
That she would blush to see her own hand, if naked:  
They are proscribed. Know, Hermegild,  
Our Country shall be free.  Herm. 
This is a noble rage! Heaven knows how I  
Have grieved at your decay of soul. 'T was my  
Sad fear, that all the angry sparks, which were  
By justice kindled in your breast, had been  
Extinguished quite, now they grow up in flames.  
You now like Phoebus show, when he hath washed  
His face with Dew. Your influence doth infuse  
A noble heat, such as would motion give  
Unto aged Statues; make them pluck up  
Their Mossy feet, and walk.  Rhod. 
Thou giv'st my sense's pride! What in this great  
Business wilt thou do, t' encourage hope?  Herm. 
I will mingle poison in my Ink, write  
With a raven's Quill! 't will be a fatal  
Scripture: and shall charm like to those wise jigs  
The sirens sing. Some must direction bear  
T' our Pensioners, that in our Country rule  
The stern Edicts of Law: some to Martial  
Spirits, who with their able skill do lead  
Those Regiments, the King hath garrisoned  
I'th' bordering Towns. They shall revolt, my Queen,  
And seat thee in thy Father's Chair: they must  
Be drunk with the Elixir of my Gold.  Rhod. 
When first I chose thee out for this great work,  
I saw thee thorough a Perspective reversed;  
For thou didst seem much lesser than thou art.  
Kneel, and be happy!— Before  
The Genius of this place, and what is here  
Immortal, I vow to assist with my  
Most active skill, all thy designments 'gainst  
The King; and when my just hopes are finished,  
To be thy Wife. Such as do perjured prove,  
Lightning will surely clothe with subtle flames,  
And they shall burn like glimmering Tapers  
In dark hell: pale, and sickly as that fire  
The Ghost of Nero makes.  Herm. 
This new ambition hath so exalted  
All my faculties, that I seem taller  
Kneeling, then when I stood. But here with strict  
Solemnity I vow to teach my Soul  
New ways of merit: to revenge with stern,  
And horrid wrath, the Kings proud tyranny.  
To make your Greatness absolute, and high,  
Or sink myself lower than a Plummet,  
In the Baltic Sea. Should I not this perform,  
The Stars would fall like Cinders on my head:  
And winds imprisoned in the Earth; break forth,  
In a wild ruin, and shake me into sand:  
Then blow me in your Eyes; where if in tears  
You drown me, I am entombed in Pearl: and then  
My obsequies requite my death.  Rhod. 
Enough. I profit to thy lip, the first  
Taste of my affection— They kiss, then rise.  Herm. 
'T was moist and luscious! I will cherish this  
endearment. Trees that tallest grow, do take  
The deepest root; so I must first sink low  
Ith' Earth; and after climb to fathom clouds.  
First, praise her mimic laughter: when she weeps,  
Then gather up with covetous regard  
Her tears for scattered Pearl. lick her spital  
From the ground: this disguised humility  
Is both the swift, and safest way to pride—  Rhod. 
Sure, Hermegild, I have amazed thy sense,  
Thou look'st like some o'ergrown Fiend, chained up  
Within a silent cave. Let us retire, and I'll  
Discover how I've practised my revenge.  Herm. 
I project to make you mighty! You shall  
Ascend my beauteous Sovereign, till you  
Can reach the Moon, and pick those seeds of light  
(The lesser Stars) from forth their wandering Spheres;  
To wear as new embroidery on your sleeve.  
I long to hear your fatal Arts. Let's mix  
Our senses, and contrive. A woman's will,  
Is not so strong in anger, as her skill.  Exeunt. Enter Paradine, a Gentleman and Page. Parad. 
You bring no letters from Cracovia, Sir?  Gent. 
None, my Lord.  Parad. 
Nor from Sienna?  Gentlem. 
Your Lordship in those few, receives th'entire  
Purpose of my journey.  Parad. 
Alas, my Countrymen! Captivity  
Is hoarse, they have more griefs than tongue: they speak  
Not loud enough to wake the ear of heaven.  
Henceforth to Hermegild bid them direct  
Their sighs; for I'm so dull, so weary, and  
Neglectful of ambitious ends, that I  
Shall lose my strength, and favour with the King.  Gent. 
My noble Lord, our prayers will overrule that prophecy.  Par. 
You may expect, whilst I am able to  
Perform. Boy, bespeak the Gentleman a free  
And bounteous welcome. Sir, I will hasten  
Your dispatch.  Exeunt Gent. Page. Enter Thesina. Thes. 
My Lord; I have tired myself in your search.  Parad. 
The fair Thesina? You are rarely here  
A visitant! Where have you left my Bride?  Thes. 
With the Queen, my Lord, who is so fond  
Of her attendance, she'll scarce allow her space  
To wink in her own service, and tonight  
She lies within her chamber.  Par. 
Hah! so soon divided! Th'approaching night  
Should help to second our embraces.  Thes. 
You're now to trust my Art. For Valdaura  
Sent me t'express her joy, i'th' delivery  
Of this message. You shall lie with her tonight.  Parad. 
How can my faith admit of this, since she  
Is billeted where the Queen sleeps?  Thes. 
I'll perfect my assurance; so you'll please  
T'obey what I enjoin. When you approach  
The Sphere, where your bright Phoebe rules, do not  
Occasion so much noise, as shall express  
You living. You must not speak to her, nor  
By your gestures, invite her speech. All this  
Perform, lest you should wake the Queen.  Parad. 
To be dumb in copulation! This is  
A fine receipt to get a silent Girl.  
But I shall prove obedient.  Thes. 
And (Sir) as you're merciful to Ladies  
(Ripe in growth) do not breathe too loud, lest we  
Ith' neighbouring room, o'erhear the harmony,  
And sin in wishes.  Parad. 
Fear not, Thesina: I shall be temperate.  Thes. 
But you young soldiers are so boisterous,  
You'll think anon, you're battering some Town-wall.  
Follow, Sir, I'll direct ye to the place,  
Where, when the dark hour arrives, you must  
Address your visit.  Exeunt omnes.  

Act the fourth. Scene first.  Enter Paradine dressing himself. Parad. 
The early Lark climbs higher than his voice;  
And whispers into Phoebus' ear, a glad  
Welcome; who smiles, and seems to prophecy  
A gaudy day. Valdaura? madam? speak,  
Sweet Lady! or, if for concealment of  
Our stolen rapture you silence still assume;  
Yet rise, and bless my eyesight with thy fair  
Presence. Come, and eclipse the envious day!  
Not talk i'th' business, nor yet behold  
The ground we till, as if we both were blind  
And dumb. I'll no more by stealth engender;  
Cripples are got thus. Kind Valdaura, speak!  A hand is thrust out between the Arras. 
See, a new day breaks in her hand! These are  
The rosy fingers of the Morn!  Pulls in Rhodolinda. 
Hah! the Queen! Valdaura! Bride, where art thou?  Looks in. Rhod. 
In vain thou call'st. The cannon's Iron throat,  
Although high mounted on you 'Pinnacle,  
Scarce could reach her ear. She's in Pavia now,  
Two Leagues situate from hence.  Parad. 
Thou art mysterious as an Oracle!  Rhod. 
I sent her thither, with pretence she should  
Survey the model of a Garden-work.  
But 'twas done, that Thesina might entice  
With apter leisure, thy person to my bed.  
At noon thy wife returns.  Parad. 
I've mistaken than my warm embraces,  
And sinned with thee th' adulterous Queen!  Rhod. 
Thou hast enjoyed what Albovine with all  
His Royal sighs, his tears swollen bigger than  
His eyes, despaired to merit.  Parad. 
O horror! gape, rugged Earth! Suck me in  
Like some old Pyramid, whose ponderous limbs  
Have been thy burden since the Flood, and now  
Their own foundation sink. Could you make  
No choice to quench your ravenous lust, but me?  
Where were the broad-chinned Switzers of your Guard?  Rhod. 
This (Paradine) denotes a melting brain:  
Which out of vulgar pity I forgive.  
'Twas not the wanton taste of thy smooth limbs,  
That could provoke me use this stratagem.  
But love of my revenge. I've strongly now  
Engaged thy power, to kill the King.  Parad. 
Hah!  Rhod. 
Which do: and ere the Sun arrive i'th' West;  
Or with dishevelled hair, my vestments torn  
(As if I'd wandered thorough some hawthorn hedge)  
I will approach the Tyrant, acquaint him  
With this deed, and call my own adultery  
Thy foul rape.  Parad. 
Who 's within there, hoa! My hogshead's empty.  
I was not borne with so much brains, as would  
Bedew a clout, that my cold nostril stopped.  
These Court smocks contain the very Devil.  
Good heaven! how lean should I have made my heart  
With studious thoughts, ere I the skill had reached  
Of such a damned projection.  Rhod. 
Collect thy scattered thoughts. What thy respect  
To thy captived Country, could ne'er charm thee  
To revenge; be prompted to, by a kind  
Affection of thy own dear life: revenge  
Upon a Tyrant; One, that loves not me,  
Nor thee; unless in speech: he hath a smooth  
Tongue, but a rugged heart. My Hermegild  
Perceives this truth, and can deliver it  
With all the pride of knowledge.  Parad. 
Sure Time grows humorous with age: for things  
Do differ much from the sincereness of  
Their first creation. I will go weep  
Till I am blind—  Rhod. 
Stay, Paradine. If thou dost mock my hopes  
With a slow motion in this just design,  
Expect to find my anger fatal. I'll to  
The King, and make a forfeiture of both  
Our lives: but if with hardy sinews thou dost march  
To 's Throat, and slit the swarthy Pipe, I'll call  
Thee then my Soldier. Besides thy country's thanks,  
Thou shalt enjoy me for thy Queen, thy Wife,  
Paradine.  Parad. 
New Arts, t'involve imagination!  
How can this be, and my own wife strongly  
Possessed of health and nature!  Rhod. 
Wouldst thou embrace so eminent a bliss,  
Without some danger to thy soul?  Parad. 
My memory betrays my skill! I know  
There are a thousand ways to discard her,  
From this foul, dirty Orb.  Rhod. 
Alas, good easy Soul! She'll ne'er be missed  
Among the living. Know, Valdaura's false.  Parad. 
How! False!  Rhod. 
She is a open whore, and hath taught me  
This Art of lust.  Parad. 
More horrible than Hell!  
Now furnish but my hands with an Hourglass,  
And a long Dart, than seat me on some rotten  
Monument for the picture of lean Death.  
Make me the common Executioner  
Of Nature. For ere long I shall become  
The sexton's Pensioner to fill his Graves.  
Valdaura false!  Rhod. 
Wilt thou thus leave me in a wild suspense,  
Whether I shall find thy courage active?  Parad. 
For credit of your own humanity,  
Do not infringe the vulgar privilege  
Due to all hearts. Give me but leave to think;  
And ne'er doubt your business! Though I'm a young  
Sinner; yet I shall soon inquire the way  
To hell. 'tis a continued thoroughfare  
From this Climate thither. Or let me but  
Delay my journey, till the trivial rage  
Of Christian Princes, meet in horrid battle;  
And than I shall have company enough:  
Whole throngs to choke the throat of hell.  
Good night, madam.  Rhod. 
Ere yet the Morn 's fair cheek hath lost her tears,  
Dost call it night?  Parad. 
To me it seems the Eye of heaven doth wink.  
All things are clothed in darkness, black as your  
Design.  Rhod. 
Stay, for else my rage will not permit  
That we survive another meeting.  
If thou suspectest we are too loud, I will  
Distil my thoughts into thy ear.  She hangs about his neck whispering. Enter Hermegild, Valdaura. Her. 
Though t'assist my great hopes with opportune  
Induction, I consented to this act:  
Yet now I chide my fond spirits. For who  
Dares trust th' unruly appetite of youth?  
What I decreed she should but taste, she may  
Delight to surfeit on. It shows fulsome!  
Here's the precious medicine that must restore  
Health to my hopes. Follow, gentle Lady.  
You see 'em now?  Vald. 
Fall, fall, you thick and spongy clouds, until  
You choke my sight. Do not my eyes begin  
To bleed at this object?  Herm. 
Mark how close they meet: what variety  
They use in lust: now she hath melted quite his lips  
With her hot breath, she hangs upon his ear.  
Survey their gestures still. Now they depart.  Exeunt Parad. Rhod. Vald. 
I'll summon all the hierarchy of heaven  
To censure'em!  Herm. 
Who knows but they are gone to wallow in  
Their active sweats again? Alas, pure soul!  
You perceive these figures no Idea,  
No object of the mind, or air incorporate  
To cheat imaginary view.  Vald. 
Was this the cause, that made th'adulterous Queen  
So strictly urge my swift journey unto  
Pavia?  Herm. 
ay, and the motive that provoked my soft  
Conscience to hasten your return, that you  
Might tell sad tales to heaven. For I  
(That still was nursed upon a sibyl's Lap)  
Who with prophetic Milk did nourish me,  
Can deeply guess at th'ominous portent  
Of sin. I hate such loose-reined Stallions;  
Such lascivious harmony in guilt.  Vald. 
So soon prove false? ere the celebration  
Of our marriage Rites were fully ended?  
Ere the Sun in's journey o'er this Region  
Had twice beheld thus incorporate  
By holy Church, and smiled upon the hopes  
Of our increase?  Herm. 
ay, there's a contemplation that would crack  
Even heartstrings made of wire. Hymen's Taper  
But newly lighted, and he with rude breath  
Blows from the quickening week the gaudy flame.  
Then in the dark, thus wilfully mistakes  
Your bed, and riots 'tween unlawful sheets.  
Horror! horror!  Vald. 
O my sinister Stars! Thus I shall weep  
Till I have emptied all my veins.  Herm. 
What should such white and harmless souls as we  
Do crawling o'er this mountainous Earth? Alas,  
We cannot drink, till we intoxicate  
A Whale, nor surfeit, till our greasy cheeks  
Do swell like Th'udders of a Cow. Nor can  
We kneel like warm Idolaters, unto  
The rusty metal in a bag. We want  
These helps to gain us honour and esteem.  Vald. 
I have a resolute intent to die,  
And seek my Mansion in a purer Orb.  Herm. 
But ere you do begin your last walk, i'th' path  
Invisible, some meritorious act  
(joined to the Charter of your Creed) should help  
T'assure your future bliss.  Vald. 
O name it, ere my sorrow shall decay  
Me strength: for I would mix ability  
With will.  Herm. 
Your Lord (foul, and sinful as mortality  
Can make him) Salamander-like, shall bathe  
In blue fires, unless by sufferance here  
On earth, he penetrate the hearth of heaven,  
And soften their decree. It will be called  
Your merit to revenge his crime, even with his death.  Vald. 
Would you have me kill him?  Herm. 
Since I am strict to virtue, I must needs  
Be cruel unto vice. Let him not live  
To increase his own guilt, and betray more  
Ladies.  Vald. 
But shall I justice take from powerful Heaven,  
And use it with such cruelty?  Herm. 
Believe me skill in sacred Oracles,  
My piety to warrant the design  
Nor will I fright the frailty of your Sex,  
With horrid circumstance; he shall not bleed,  
This Viol doth contain a draught; which if  
In's usual beverage poured, will cozen him  
Of's leprous soul in his most quiet sleep.  Vald. 
I do suspect my courage!  Her. 
take't, fair Pupil! think on't in your prayers.  
If you but enjoy one single motion  
That informs you it is good: do't with pride  
And boldness masculine. Distinguish thus  
Its operation. four days must fully take  
Their room i'th' Calendar, ere it effect  
Our hopes. Before that hour arrive, he must  
Be wrought to kill the King.  Aside. Vald. 
The Viol liquid Lead contains, or else  
Some far more ponderous Metal: for whilst  
I bear it thus, the weight seems to infuse  
A Palsy in my hand. I tremble like  
A string touched on my Lute.  Herm. 
It is the Fiend, that would dehort you from  
A pious act: trust not his whispering charms  
But with a hardy courage, (more than is  
Natural in thy modest Sex) proceed  
To merit heaven. And now requite my forward zeal  
To virtue, with concealment of my name,  
And interest in this act. Let not the Queen  
Nor your false Lord, know me the Perspective,  
Through which you saw their ravenous lusts, but say,  
The King revealed it to your ear. 'Twill make  
Them wild, and doubt their own confederate Bawds.  
Think not I forbid it as a danger  
To my person; for I affect not life.  
So soft and easy-metal is my heart,  
So well I love your sinful Lord, that when  
I hear the surly Bell proclaim his death,  
Like some new weaned Babe, I shall die crying.  Vald. 
Would you have him killed, yet love him thus?  Herm. 
ay, but I love heaven better. Where, when  
I come, troth I shall prove too fond a Saint.  
Those Votaries that pray to me, shall find  
Their business soon dispatched: here, let this key  
Obscure ye in my Clozet until noon:  
For then the Queen expects you will return  
From Pavia. Farewell, the most abused,  
But noblest Lady in the world.  Exeunt. Enter Grimold (in an old rug gown, muffled with clouts) Gondibert, Vollterri. Gond. 
This is the privy Gallery: place the Chair,  
Vollterri, where it needs must interrupt  
The king's passage.  Vollt. 
If thy disguise should fail us, Gondibert  
And I must be attached for Impostors.  Grim. 
And then be crop-card too, like Irish Nags.  
You'll both prove fleet in a Race, provided  
The foe charge ye in the Rear. Seat me with  
Tender motion— This luxurious City  
Hath made me so rotten, I dare not walk  
i'th' wind, lest I should be blown in pieces.  Enter Hermegild. Gond. 
Quick now counterfeit! Here comes Hermegild. Grimold groans.  
Groan out like a Boar.  Herm. 
Who owns that sick clamour?  Gond. 
One (Sir) presented here to tempt compassion  
From all charitable eyes.  Vollt. 
Want hath betrayed him to hunger, hunger  
To this disease.  Grim. 
O, O, O, the Cramp! the Cramp!  Herm. 
Where, Sir?  Grim. 
In my stomach.  Herm. 
That's indeed a clear symptom of famine.  Grim. 
I've eaten nothing this month but raw air,  
And that gives but weak nourishment to age.  Herm. 
It is my wonder, in a State so rich  
As ours, a climate still befriended thus  
By nature (flourishing with hopeful Springs,  
And Summers choked with wealth) a Soldier should  
Be forced to make his hunger a disease.  
A prodigy unparalleled, that want  
Should e'er occasion such a dangerous fast.  
Wast not devotion made him thus abstain  
From meat?  Grim. 
Pure want, Sir, I know small devotion, I.  
For though I fast much, I pray as little  
As most Christians of my Calling. Groans again.  Herm. 
He must be sent unto some Hospital,  
There eat warmth broths, till he recover health:  
And then I will procure him from the State  
Some thrifty pension, to maintain the short  
Remainder of his life in sober works.  
He shall sing Hymns, and pray to the kind Saints  
In a blue gown.  Grim. 
Alas, Sir, I am grown so hoarse, the Saints  
Can hardly hear my Orisons.  Gond. 
He will prove (my Lord) a chargeable Cure:  
For the Physicians do prescribe him nought  
For medicine, but Aurum-Palpabile.  Grim. 
The Elixir of Gold would surely much  
Assuage the grief in my stomach— Groans.  Herm. 
He must needs be hungry, that like th'ostrich  
Can digest Metal.  Vollt. 
The King for his last services remains  
His debtor six thousand Ducats. My Lord,  
You shall express much charity, if you  
Procure it in a sudden payment. The same will  
Defray his sickness charge, and maintain him  
Well in's health.  Gond. 
Your Lordship shall engage us then to drown  
Your chief Title in the best Grape. we'll drink  
Your health, until we raise the price of wine.  Herm. 
Let him continue there his seat. Perhaps  
They (whom I shall straight conduct this way)  
Will so commiserate his want, that he  
Will soon relieve't, though he increase his own.  
There is some Art in this, which I must needs  
Discover, or forfeit my pains. Exit.  Gond. 
The Fiend is gone!  Grimold rises. Grim. 
Will all the vast accruements I project  
From this disguise, convert into  
The slender purchase of an Hospital?  Vollt. 
Thou turn Votary?  Gond. 
He'll pray in no language but the High-Dutch,  
The angry Tongue, which seems to threaten more,  
Then implore.  Grim. 
Six thousand Ducats for a Mansion in  
An hospital, no bigger than a coffin:  
Where like Carthusians, we must feed, not to  
Prevent hunger, but to hinder lust. Princes  
May easily pay their debts, when they enforce  
Their Creditors to buy Titles and Place  
At their own rates.  Vollt. 
Hark! there's somebody approaching hither.  
'tis no safe game to sport with Kings. I'll be gone.  Gond. 
Grimold, now trust to your own performance,  
I may have use for my ears, I would not  
Yet leave them in the Pillory.  Exeunt Gond. Vollt. Grim. 
Gondibert, Vollterri! forsake the storm  
Ere ye are wet? Weasels! Monkeys! Dogs!  Drops down in 's Chair. Enter Albovine, Hermegild, Thesina. Herm. 
madam, you are now fully satisfied  
i'th' intention of this visit. I wish  
You'd be as free, and sportive with him, as  
Your modesty will give you leave.  Thes. 
Trust my obedience, and my skill, Sir.  Albo. 
He looks like a watchman in that Rug.  Herm. 
Your Majesty receives new cause to doubt  
The truth of his disease, from my servant's  
Information. Who swears, this very Morn  
He hath been seen in all the violence  
Of drink, and i'th' Burdelli too. For, Sir,  
Though he be old, he's given much to propagation.  Albo. 
Let us retire 'tween th'Arras, and we  
Shall share, i'th' whole discovery. He groans.  Thes. 
Alas, who is't, that so provokes the tongue  
Of pity!  Grim. 
An old soldier o' the Kings—  Thes. 
Hah! Captain Grimold! how come you thus  
Imprisoned in a Chair? have you the Gout?  Grim. 
I am not rich enough t'enjoy the Gout.  Thes. 
What name then do you give to your disease!  Grim. 
The Physicians call it famine.  Thes. 
How? Heaven secure the State! I hope we are  
Not guilty of a sin so horrible,  
To deny a Soldier fit materials  
For conservation of his life.  Grim. 
'tis fourteen days since I have had a just  
Occasion but to pick my teeth.  Thes. 
Alas the day!  Grim. 
Each of my thighs are dried, and hardened like  
An old Westphalia Flitch. All m'entrails  
Are shrunk up. My bladder is no bigger than  
A Pigs: and were my lean jaws unmuffled,  
You should see me mump, like a Matron that  
Had lost her teeth.  Thes. 
O cruel stars!—  Grim. 
Hah! Does she weep?  Thes. 
Could you on this wide Earth, find no object  
For your fury, but brave Grimold? Or is't  
Because you saw, it was my chief virtue  
To affect a Soldier?  Grim. 
If she should be in earnest now?  Thes. 
I hope you do not utterly despair of life?  Grim. 
I may linger out a score of years, or so;  
But I cannot live long.  Thes. 
Since you are marked for sudden death, cold death  
That silenceth all tongues: and since this place  
Is so secure from neighbouring ears, I will  
Disclose, what until now my modesty  
Enforced me to conceal.  Grim. 
I shall forget to counterfeit!  Thes. 
Know, Sir, that I have loved you long; loved you  
With soft and tender passion.  Grim. 
O Rogue! What do I like the picture  
Of Winter, in this withered habit? I must  
Recover my health. But alas, madam,  
Do not deride his destiny, that now  
Is taking flight to reach that place, where your  
Best Star inhabits, and shall have power  
To tell loud tales: if you prove thus cruel.  
How could you e'er love me? I have been old,  
Even since your first original growth.  Thes. 
But if you will permit, I may express  
A little vanity in love, I can  
Inform you, Sir, how much we Ladies prize  
Age before Youth in Lovers. Old men are  
Discreet sinners, and offend with silence.  
But young men, when the game is done, do crow  
Like pregnant Cocks: boast to the world their strength  
In folly. Besides (Sir) an authentic  
Lady says in her Problems thus:  
The Young and slender Graft is easily broke,  
But who can shake, or bruise the aged Oak?  Albo. 
A rare Adage.  Herm. 
The Lady Author sure, is o'th' moderns.  Grim. 
My joy is turned to a disease; it makes  
Me speechless! I ever thought these Court-Tits  
Were much taken with my smooth looks; but that  
Their modesty still kept them from my reach.  
Foolish modesty! It has hindered my  
Preferment much for since I left the Camp,  
I have been in love with some three hundred  
Of'em, yet never durst lay claim to one.  
Vh! vh! If Heaven should so affect  
Our mutual appetites, as to restore  
My health, would you continue still to dote  
Upon an old sinner?  Thes. 
O, I should grow more fond; preserve you long  
Alive with zealous Orisons!  Grim. 
'las! poor malkin! She's caught! I shall grow rich.  
For I have heard, these Court-Ladies allow  
Large pensions to their Paramours. Help! help!  
To move me higher in my seat—  She takes him by the hand, he rises. Thes. 
Bless us! methinks, Sir, you begin to use  
Your legs with active strength.  Herm. 
A precious Ape!  Albo. 
He will show fine tricks anon!  Grim. 
Some strange influence from your touch, hath given  
A second Youth unto my faculties:  
Before, I seemed to crawl like to a Crab:  
Now my joints grow supple, as if I were  
Provided for a Race. This hand inspires my strength—  Enter Cunymond, Frollo, Conrade. Cuny. 
I have a Key, will give us passage here to th'Park!  Thes. 
Unhand me, Sir, for I shall forfeit all  
My fame else. They'll think, I am immodest—  He spies them, then drops down in's Chair. Conrad. 
Captain Grimold!  Frollo. 
He sits like a Witch, sailing in a siue.  Cuny. 
Hah! sick! Gentlemen, avoid the windy side,  
Lest he infect ye with his breath. I know  
His disease, and whence it came, shortly  
You'll see him wear a Curtain sore his Nose;  
That's now the newest fashion that came from Paris.  Frollo. 
ay, 'tis it: he has them growing on his  
Temples here— They'll shortly be as big  
As Turnips.  Conrad. 
He must to Rotterdam, to the fat Doctor there,  
And be stewed in a Stove, until he spit  
His venom out.  Cuny. 
And whilst you are in physic (Captain)  
You fare like Oberon. 'tis a very  
Slender diet. The lean thigh of a Wasp  
To dinner; and some two or three of your  
Own penitent tears for your beverage.  Grim. 
I've but so much breath left, as would make up  
A short prayer to secure my last jaunt:  
Yet I will spend it in a hearty curse  
For your dear sakes.  Cuny. 
March on! If he do find himself aggrieved,  
Let him send me a challenge after his death;  
And I will meet him, Ith' Elysian Fields.  Exeunt Cunimond, Conrade, Frollo. Grim. 
I will eat that Cunymond!  Albo. 
How prompt the Slave is, in 's metamorphosis?  Herm. 
To him again, madam?  Thes. 
Alas, dear Captain, what bodily hope  
Can a young Lady have of your performance,  
That fall so soon in a relapse?  Grim. 
When you deprived me of your hand, you took  
Away my strength and heat: touch me again,  
And I shall walk stiff as Cacus. She lifts him up.  Thes. 
Take leisure in your motion, Sir.  Grim. 
Look, madam. I creep as other mortal do,  
On the surface of the Earth—  Thes. 
methinks you stand upright too.  Grim. 
ay, a lady's warm hand will make it stand.  
A little physic from your Lip, and then  
My cure is quite finished— Hem! Sure this was  
Nestor's receipt to recover his Youth. Hem!—  Thes. 
I shall be fainted for this miracle.  Grim. 
I am as wholesome as a Nut, and have  
As proud flesh about me, as the youngest  
Gamester of 'em all.  Thes. 
Fie, Sir!  Grim. 
If this heat continue, I must e'en call  
For a julip, or sow my wild Oats  
In the next soil I meet.  Thes. 
Your tongue is blistered.  Grimo. 
When shall we solace our bodies?  Thes. 
Your meaning, Sir?  Grim. 
I mean i'th' dark. Speak, pretty Finch with the  
Green tail? Hah! Must we kiss close, and often?  
Wriggle up and down like young Eels—  Hermegild comes behind him, and pulls him by the arm. Her. 
Captain, I have brought the King here to view,  
And to commiserate your lean sickness,  
And your feeble wants.  Albo. 
Thou old ravenous Goat!  Herm. 
He looks now like an Alchemist, that is  
Broiling o'red Herrings.  Thes. 
Or like the brazen head, when 'twas about  
To speak— He takes the King aside.  Grim. 
You mean to hang me now!  Albo. 
Hast thou deserved an easier sentence?  Grim. 
When I am dead, than all my debts are paid.  
For I leave small Lands and Chattels behind me.  
But hark ye (my Liege) you may pay your debts  
In your life time, so deprive your Executor  
Of a trouble.  Albo. 
O what a trivial exit shall I make  
From my own world? for when I die, I die  
For love.  Grim. 
And I for lechery. Sir, I would fain  
Depart in quiet like other young Chrysoms:  
Fain make all even between the world and me.  
I beseech your Highness discharge my arrears  
For my last service in Hungary,  
Then hang me when you please.  Herm. 
Captain, I will be a Suitor for your reprieve.  
You shall only forfeit what his Grace owes you;  
And than your life's secured.  Grimold kneels. Grim. 
I will rather die twice. O Sir, pay me  
Six thousand Ducats, and then proclaim  
Your sentence here aloud. I would fain die  
Merrily. I have not been drunk at my own charge  
This four months.  Enter Rhodolinda. Albo. 
Hermegild, iterate now thy sweet raptures.  
Speak to her; for, by th' gentle carriage of  
Her eyes, I do perceive she begins to penetrate.  Thes. 
Away Captain! be gone whilst you are yet  
Mortal. I have much power with Hermegild,  
And will upon your patient sufferance  
Redeem my credit with your thoughts. Quick then,  
Move with silence.  Exeunt Grim. Thes. Herm. 
madam, the feathered Arrow sings i'th' Air,  
Ere it arrive where it must wound; so this  
Sweet harmony, I'd have you counterfeit,  
But tempts him to security in sleep,  
Before his death.  Albo. 
I'm much obliged to that good soul.  Herm. 
True, my Royal Lady! yet now peruse  
The greatness of his being, his fate in battles,  
And by your own remembrance be informed  
Of our captivity.  Albo. 
Honest Hermegild?  Rhod. 
He was too cruel to a nature so  
Remiss, and timorous as mine?  Herm. 
Alas, this crime he expiates with sighs  
So hot, that they would singe his Royal Beard,  
Did not his numerous tears opportunely drop,  
To quench the flame.  Albo. 
That's compliment!  Herm. 
These angry frowns upon your brows make you  
Appear aged.  Rhod. 
Could I assure my heart; he would no more  
Triumph o'er my dear Father's memory;  
I then should meet his love with too much passion.  Albo. 
When I am more my Chronicle, or speak  
My deeds with pride, may my tongue blister, till't  
Infect my breath with Epidemic-heat.  Herm. 
You hear his vows?— Seem fond. If you can shed  
A tear, or two, the more to credit this  
Atonement, 'twill much advantage our pretence.  
Sir, now enjoy what your indulgent grief  
Merits to keep, e'en from the hands of death.  
Good heart, see how she weeps?  King kisses her. Albo. 
I'm soon o'ercome in this soft war. 'Sdeath all  
Can thaw but I. I never wept, but when  
Th'unruly wind blew in my eyes; and 'tis  
No argument for stern battle: else I  
Would fight. To testify the joy my soul  
Conceives, I'll drink—  Herm. 
Sir, you neglect to use her like a Lover;  
With amorous gestures.  Albo. 
Fill me a Bowl with Negro's blood, congealed  
Even into Livers! Tell her, Hermegild,  
I'll swallow Tar, to celebrate her health!  Herm. 
Sir, this dull German phrase, makes her suspect  
Your temperance. Mark how she trembles.  Albo. 
I must go learn to compliment. Dost hear?  
Is't fit I proffer her to mingle limbs— Thou know'st—  Herm. 
Sir, not tonight. That was a serious suit  
She bade me make, when first she purposed this  
Atonement.  Albo. 
I do obey. Though I have thought would fain  
Persuade me to rebellion.  Exeunt Albo. Rhod. Herm. 
This was a subtle caution! else my hopes  
Had twice been Cuckolded. Let'em revel  
With their salt Lips. Th' other sport is fulsome.  
But Paradine disturbs my sleep: he's young,  
Enriched with all the fertile strength of nature:  
And needs must prove more riotous in sin,  
Than I. My dark practice, and use  
Of silent contemplation; has made  
My marrow thin and black; like Ink within  
My bones. I want the prompt alacrity. The Queen  
Hath tasted him, and may (perhaps) still to  
Possess his lust; remove Valdaura from  
This foggy Soil; then make him Lord of all  
My hopes. This to prevent, I have decreed,  
Valdaura first shall minister his death.  
I've taught her too; t' insinuate to his Creed,  
That the King told her of 's adulterous lust;  
Good, for when he thinks the King doth know that guilt,  
His own safety then, will soon provoke him  
Hasten our prodigious murder. This may  
Be done, before the Poison operate  
In dire effect; for that delays its power;  
Till fourscore hours expire their course: which then  
No Antidote, nor humane skill resists.  
Mount, mount my thoughts, that I may tread on Kings,  
Or if I chance to fall, thus soaring high;  
I melt like Icarus, in the sun's Eye. Exit.  Enter Paradine, and his Page. Par. 
The Sun doth melt us with his scorching beams.  
Go fill my usual beverage: I'll drink  
Till I am cold. Exit Page.  
The constitution of my Soul, agrees  
Not with this Climate. I grow weary  
Of mortality. even in my first growth  
(Since my Corselet was my load) I have took  
My breeding in the Camp; where had I still  
Remained a dull practic soldier, and ne'er seen  
A Woman, nor the Court, I might have had  
Some hope, to gain by faith, but now I reach  
At wild despair. Enter Page with a Bowl.  Page. 
My Lady, Sir, commends her love, and this  
To your acceptance; she made the mixture  
With her own hands.  Par. 
The Queen prescribed this hour for her return.  
That she grows black with sin, perverts my sense,  
I must seem not to know't. Say, I greet her health-drinks.  Exit Page. Enter Valdaura in close mourning. Parad. 
Hah! why, Valdaura, dost thou appear like  
A funeral night, in dark, and swarthy weeds!  Valdau. 
I mourn for you, since you must hasten your  
Eternal absence now from me, and all  
That else are mortal.  Par. 
Speak things, that are less dangerous to my sense.  
This wonder will distract me.  Vald. 
Ere winged Time, shall with swift motion add  
Another hour, to th' life of this sick day;  
Thou shalt begin thy last sleep.  Parad. 
A pale Swan hath sung my Dirge! O fatal  
Music! but how comes this intelligence  
To Ears of flesh and blood? have you of late  
Been gossipping with the grim Stygian Dames,  
And seen their scissors gall my vital Thread?  
For to my own sense I need no Physic.  
My faculties enjoy that pleasant strength  
Which appertains to youth and temperance;  
Why should I yet die?  Vald. 
How, Paradine? Art thou so full of guilt,  
(Most ulcerous and deformed) yet thinkst to keep  
Thy life at Nature's charge, t' exist till age  
Makes thee a Cripple: then in thy bed,  
(Like some good old Patriarch) thy soul dismiss  
With a divine rapture? No, no; just Heaven  
Provides more rash and horrid deaths for such,  
As in adultery bathe their silken limbs.  Parad. 
Hah!  Vald. 
I know thy guilt; the King hath told me all.  
'Twas wondrous strange! Our vows but new arrived  
In heaven, that did oblige our mutual Faiths  
In love: and thou with savage lust to break them?  
Though grief hath much consumed my tears, yet I  
Have some still left t' express my pity.  Parad. 
My adultery already known, both to  
The King and her? why, these are prodigies  
Indeed. How sin emboldens the aspect!  
She doth accuse me for a guilt, which yet  
Remains unpardoned in herself. Mine was  
A dire mistake: but hers— that must be known,  
And then her veins shall weep.  Vald. 
You are poisoned, Paradine.  Parad. 
With that cold draught you sent me now i'th' Bowl?  Vald. 
The viper's vomit, nor the blue steam,  
Which fat Toads do breathe in tired motion,  
Bears not such a dangerous enmity  
'Gainst humane Nature, as that you drunk.  Parad. 
Stay! methinks I feel no insurrection  
In my blood, nor need an Iron Corselet  
To contain my flesh; sure it swells not yet.  Vald. 
It takes a subtle leisure to disperse  
Thorough all your Organs, and your Arteries,  
That it may straight with abler violence  
Consume your strength.  Parad. 
And then I shall look goggle-eyed! and stretch  
Ith' cheeks, till my face show like a pompion,  
Round and yellow?  Vald. 
Far, far more deformed.  Par. 
Will't make my eyes start from my skull, or drop  
Like bullets at my feet? Speak, shall I foam  
At mouth like some young Courser, that is hot  
And angry with his bit?  Vald. 
Not the first Chaos was so ugly and  
Confused, as you'll appear, when this distillment works.  Parad. 
Yet I forgive you all, e'en from my heart:  
Whilst my cogitations now are sober,  
And can distinguish things with pregnant sense.  
I do applaud this cruel benefit.  
These subtle vanities of Court have tired  
My observation. I was nursed within  
Some Armoury, and took a proud delight  
In active War; but since our Drums have ceased  
Their noble clamour, I find no business  
Upon Earth for me; 'tis fit I grow immortal.  Vald. 
I did not think, his fancy, at this news,  
Could prove so temperate.  Par. 
To sleep in cold earth, whilst my dead neighbour  
Never at my Coffin knocks, to inquire my health,  
By way of visit: for all are silent  
In the grave. Harsh destiny! Such as I  
Could ne'er expect from thee, Valdaura.  Vald. 
My nature you shall find much different,  
From what your knowledge heretofore discerned.  
I have contrived another way to punish  
Thy adulterous heat.  Par. 
You find my sufferance tame enough. Publish all!  Vald. 
To meet your sin with apt revenge, I'm grown  
A foul loose whore.  Par. 
Hah! contain thy speech. Express but so much  
Modesty, as may secure thy life: for  
My death doth not concern my rage so much,  
As this foul murder of thy fame.  Vald. 
'tis truth: and I confirm't with pride.  Par. 
Oh, oh! these are the Mandrake's groans (fatal!)  
For whoso hears them, straight encounters death.  
Now smile (sweet Heaven) since thus I but return  
Her own justice. For my adulterous act,  
She takes my life, and shall I let that bold  
Adulteress live?— Stabs her with 's poniard.  Vald. 
Oh, oh! Hold, hold! Leave me a little breath  
To use in prayer.  Parad. 
I am not fraught with devil's spleen; I would  
Not hurt thy soul: here solitary sit,  
Whilst I send up an humble sacrifice,  
That shall bespeak a pardon for thy crime,  
Ere thou arrive near heaven. Puts her in a Chair.  Vald. 
Dare you trust my last utterance?  Par. 
O speak, ere thou dost catch an everlasting cold,  
And shalt be heard no more.  Vald. 
I am not false unto your bed: I ne'er  
In act, nor guilty thought, did violate  
My Marriage vows.  Parad. 
Art thou not a Whore?  Vald. 
No Vestal that preserved with quickening oil,  
The sacred flame, was in her chastity  
More cold, more timorous than I: nor are  
You poisoned.  Parad. 
Hah! was not that a mixture of distilled  
Venom, which I drunk?  Vald. 
'Twas healthful, as the blood of Grapes to age,  
And all your faculties do still preserve  
Their wonted harmony.  Parad. 
Sweet spirit, do not riddle thus with Heaven,  
Nor sport thy soul away. Why didst accuse  
thyself of stern murder, and pernicious lust;  
Yet art thus clear from both?  Vald. 
'Twas to enrage your violence, with hope  
To make you soon my executioner.  
For hearing you were false, I found no joy  
In life: your hand hath sealed my wishes.  Par. 
New Arts t'increase my wonder: I'm o'erreached,  
Where I thought my nature was most skilful!  
E'en in love! O stay: had not distraction  
Ceased my memory; I should at first have told you  
The mistake, by which the sinful Queen  
And Hermegild betrayed my chaste Honour.  Vald. 
named you Hermegild, guilty of that sin?  
He's then a horrid hypocrite: he did  
Entice me by a poisonous practice to  
Contrive your death, but found my nature loyal.  Parad. 
New wonders still!  Vald. 
I feel the frozen hand of death. Oh! oh! oh!  Parad. 
Valdaura! Bride! O noble Girl!  Vald. 
Mercy! mercy!  She dies. Parad. 
Already turned a Ghost! There's rare music  
Now in heaven, since thou art gone t'increase  
The sacred Choir. I may behold thee in  
The purple sky, mixed there with other Stars,  
But never on this soil again. Be this  
Thy Tomb awhile. The Curtains softly drawn—  
Hermegild treacherous! with poison too?  
That was her word. 'tis fit I seem t' have drunk  
The medicine up. Good! The rough young Soldier  
May spy at last these spirits of the Court,  
That walk in artificial clouds: or if  
Their high conceptions soar above my reach,  
Yet they have mortal hearts; such as our own  
Country steel, may with feeble motion prick,  
Prick till they groan: for I have now decreed,  
Whom my dull sense cannot subdue, shall bleed. Exit.   

Act the fifth. Scene first.  Enter Hermegild, Thesina, Paradine, Rhodolinda. Thes. 
Shall I belie my own silence?  Her. 
Be sudden in your speech! confirm my words:  
Then dispose e'en of my wealth and person.  
I will consent to matrimony; make  
Any use of this new interest.  Thes. 
Sir, you'll forget my merit in this danger?  Herm. 
Never.— My Lord, I have discovered all.  
See, how aguish her guilt hath made her.  
How she trembles like a frosty Russian  
On a hill. Nay, Lady, ne'er scatter thus  
Your wild looks. Confess the truth, and you'll gain  
Mercy. Valdaura (whose Soul Heaven keep  
From purging fires) hath told her Lord; the King  
Knows of his wanton stealth with our good Queen.  
You were the Instrument that betrayed him  
To th'mistake, and whose secrecy to doubt  
But yours, our reason cannot yet inform us.  Thes. 
Thus kneeling, I confess with penitence,  
'T was I revealed it to the King.  Rhod. 
Tear forth her eyes, and let her then grope out  
Her way to hell—  Herm. 
Stay, dear madam!  Rhod. 
Paradine is poisoned, who knows, but she  
Doth amply share in that guilt too?  Herm. 
At my humble suit, contain your fury!  
We shall discover all. My noble Lord,  
It is a grief that will deprive my life  
Of many years, to think, I'm held by your  
Suspect, an Agent in that practice.  Parad. 
I have revealed the evidence, that doth  
Persuade my Creed.  Her. 
What, Lady, do you know of this?— Speak with  
Courage, I am your safety.  Thes. 
I saw the King reach to Valdaura's hand  
A poisonous viol; and with religious hints,  
Taught her to mix it in her husband's draught.  Parad. 
Hah!  Herm. 
Persist in my instructions! Aside.  Thes. 
'T was that night when he enjoyed her person—  Parad. 
Enjoyed her! how?  Thes. 
As you enjoyed the Queen.  Parad. 
Heaven! will these miracles ne'er cease?  Rhod. 
I shall convert to stone!  Herm. 
Now retire, Thesina, till I have begged  
Your free restorement to the Queen's mercy.  Thes. 
My Lord, you'll not forget your kind promise  
Of matrimony.  Herm. 
I've nought else, to trouble my remembrance.  
Away, Away!  Exit Thesina. Rhod. 
What did remain suspense, is here confirmed:  
My forehead feels as rugged now as his.  Herm. 
Now Sir, you've heard such real circumstance,  
As needs must settle your belief, and free  
My heart, from your unkind dislike.  Par. 
Valdaura's damned! she howls so loud, that she  
Disturbs all hell! O perjured Whore!  Rhod. 
Now Paradine! Instruct thyself with thoughts.  
Is't evident he ever could affect  
Thy person with sincere dotage, yet thus  
Betray thy strength in thy Fort? Where thy  
Honour still stood sentinel?  Herm. 
I have other motives to teach you doubt  
His loyalty in love. Which my fond heart  
Cannot conceal, though't would advantage much  
My own profit. He hath of late, hung thus—  
Upon my neck; until his amorous weight  
Became my burden: and then lay slabbering o'er  
My lips; like some rheumatic Babe. This sport  
My serious brain abhorred. 'Twas my wonder  
(Since you are called his Minion) he could ere  
Affect my look. I that am like coughing  
Winter, old, and froward; you the darling  
Of the lusty Spring.  Rho. 
Speak, is that Bag, that should contain thy Gall,  
Shrunk up; hast thou nothing bitter in thee?  
Thou art far, far more opportunely stored  
With time and place for thy revenge, than we.  
Ith' middle age of day; when the bright Sun  
Most powerfully doth warm the world; in thy  
Secret closet he takes his usual sleep.  
Go, drill his heart! and make the Couch whereon  
He lies, his easy monument.  Herm. 
And then enjoy a Queen, with all that doth  
Belong to her achievement, or her birth.  
As for my services, they merit no  
Reward. I know my own creation much  
Unfit for Court affairs. If you but wrap  
Me in a shirt of hair, than seat me in  
A dark and gloomy Cell, where I may tumble o'er  
Some deep voluminous Rabbin, you make  
Me safe, and happy.  Rhod. 
do't, Paradine! and Fame no Trumpet then  
Shall need to speak thy praise. Thy Country will  
Afford thee power to sanctify the chief  
O'th' days within our Calendar.  Herm. 
And to thy memory high Statues build,  
'Bout which our Noblest virgins once a year  
Shall dance in Circles, and sing, until they make  
The Marble move, like to those loose Quarries;  
Which o'erheard Orpheus and his Harp. Or if  
These cannot inspire heroic fury,  
Yet argue thus; you knew his Bed, but by  
Mistake; which was our guilt, not yours; and for  
Our country's benefit contrived. But he  
Defiled your sheets in the salt pride of lust.  
Horror! this would incense the temperate Dove;  
Turn all his moisture into gall; teach him  
To wear spurs on his heels, and make him fierce  
In Duel, as a British Cock.  Parad. 
Fire! fire! and warm blood! Exit.  Herm. 
Follow, follow him, my dear Sovereign!  
Add new heat unto his rage. And d'ye hear!  
Since he is poisoned, 'twere most fit, some learned  
Physician, did endeavour to secure  
His health.  Rhod. 
I heard him say, he is already furnished  
With a powerful medicine.  Herm. 
Should you now forget your Royal promise,  
I lose all my industrious merit,  
And remain a sacrifice to love.  Rhod. 
Dost thou grow jealous?  Herm. 
Valdaura now is severed from her Soul:  
And Paradine is abler in delights  
Of Youth, more moist and amorous than I.  Rhod. 
Away fool! I seal thy safety with my lip. exit.  Herm. 
Thus nurses hush their froward babes asleep.  
Shortly she'll present me with a coral-club,  
A Whistle strung with Bells. These female Arts  
Can ne'er my dark authentic practice cheat.  
Paradine must die! So I still secure  
My hopes. When that sad hour arrives,  
Wherein the poisonous draught must work,  
No charmed medicine can resist its strength.  
I hug my Genius! 'T was a subtle reach,  
To tell him, that the King hath horned his brow:  
For that will more incense his wrath, and aggravate  
The queen's revenge. The weight I bear, doth make  
My motion slow: slow as the Snail I tread,  
Who travails with his tenement on 's head. Exit.  Enter Grimold in new Clothes, Gondibert, Vollterri. Gond. 
The King has paid him all 's arrears.  Vollt. 
'T was by Thesina's suit to Hermegild:  
The Snake has cast his skin too now.  Grim. 
ay, Sir, 'tis a poor Snake that cannot cast,  
His skin once in a Summer.  Enter Cunymond, Conrade, Frollo. Cun. 
'Slight, here's Grimold! Didst not thou say he was dead?  Conr. 
But I have heard since, his ghost walks.  Frol. 
Look! 't has found the hidden treasure then, which  
Made it walk; for the Ghost hath bought itself  
New clothes.  Grimo. 
Nay, nay, stay, Gentlemen! Let us forget  
Old quarrels, then end our new acquaintance.  
We are for the Country now. I'll but tell ye  
A few of your faults, and leave th' amendment  
To your own leisures: but you all think  
You're wiser than I.  Cuny. 
We should abuse our judgements else.  Grim. 
Mark! This is a new Court-thrift: when you are  
Loath to maintain flatterers, you publish  
yourselves with your own praise. Lay your fingers  
Here— Not a word, lest I return ye a blow.  
I know ye cannot speak without a compliment.  Vollt. 
They use it in their prayers, they.  Gond. 
Cunymond, in one single compliment  
So much wasted his Lungs, that I was fain  
To call for Aqua vita to recover  
His breath.  Grim. 
I've heard you have transported from Paris  
The Geometrical cringe, and the Art  
Of numbering the hairs upon your chins.  Vollt. 
And of starching your Beards.  Gond. 
Yes, and of perfuming your very shadows.  Grim. 
And they say, it is your custom to sleep  
In Pomatum Masques.  Vollt. 
And that you paint your pretty Physiognomies.  Grim. 
Yes, and colour them so red, that you seem  
To blush more, than the Sign of the king's head  
Before a Country Inn.  Gond. 
Y'abuse Astrology too; for you clip  
Black-Taffeta into Stars; and for a foil  
To your beauty; fix 'em in several Regions  
Of your face.  Gri. 
Which makes it look, like the picture of Doomsday;  
When all the Planets are darkened.  Vollt. 
Nay, nay, stay awhile!  Grim. 
Leave off your jigging motion, when you mix  
yourselves in a salute; your bodies seem  
To dance upon your knees. You pinion up  
Your Elbows thus:— like pullet's trust upon  
A spit. Then wreath your hams in thus; and move  
With a discreet leisure, as if you meant  
To number all the Pebbles in the street.  
And than you fleer, as if y' had washed your gums  
In vinegar. This you admire for gesture  
Of the newest fashion. I say, 'tis scurvy!  
For he that greets a Lady so, does look  
Like a Soap-boiler, upon a close-stool.  Vollt. 
If you will take Physic for your souls-health,  
Retire into that part of the Kingdom  
Which lies farthest from France.  Gond. 
He counsel well: for the French air hath made  
Many of our Gentry drunk.  Gri. 
And now move hence; but with your lips sowed up,  
For fear of a compliment. You two shall straight  
Take horse with me, and be billeted in  
My Quarter. Stay, Gentlemen! One word more!  
This is a hot Climate: when you must needs  
Marry to increase your Tribe, your best way  
Is to go a-wooing in the City:  
For certain rich widows there, love Court-fools;  
And use to play with their babbles.  Exeunt omnes. A Canopy is drawn, the King is discovered sleeping over papers: enter Paradine with his sword drawn. Parad. 
To make him bleed, and leave his arteries  
(Where the delighted spirits walk) shrunk up,  
Until they curl with heat. The withered frame  
straight to convert to dust. Then th' numerous wind,  
To fan it o'er the world. Speak, just Heaven!  
Is this fit usage for a King? Cassius  
Was rash: perhaps to gain noise at's funeral;  
Or in 's Elysian fields; beneath a pleasant Hedge  
To tell some prattling ghost what he had done—  
Hah! but Brutus, noble Brutus! the pride  
Of Arts and War: so temperate, his soul  
Was more harmonious than the Spheres. Instruct  
(Heroic Lord) thy young Pupil! Why did  
The mighty Cesar fall, by thy cold wrath?  
All silent as the night! He sleeps: before  
Him too, those papers that concern my house  
Affairs; and my Official rule in State.  
Here he comments on my Letters! here with  
Thrifty documents limits my expense.  
Can this indulgent care be counterfeit?  
And merely carry a pretence of love? he made  
My wife a black adulteress. O horror!  
Yet who knows, but 'twas rather his revenge,  
Than lust; a furious riot, after that  
He knew I whored his Queen—  He blinds his own face with a scarf, sheathes his sword, and then kneels. 
Sir! My Lord the King! Sir!  Albo. 
Hah! Paradine! What witty emblem's this?  
The more to certify thy love, dost thou  
Appear blind.  Parad. 
O Sir, do not mock my penitence, nor seem  
Thus to disguise the knowledge of that crime,  
Which hath defiled my modest blood, and makes  
Me now ashamed t' encounter with your eyes.  Albo. 
He is drunk! Maudlin drunk!  Parad. 
Sir, I could creep alive into my Tomb,  
And mix society with Ghosts, whilst I  
Have yet warm motion left, could I but hide  
My guilt from your perspicuous sight.  Albo. 
By heaven drunk with Cider, or with thin Beer;  
That looks like th' urine of a Babe: I'm sure  
The Corsic Grape infuseth no  
Such whining passion.  Par. 
Those immaterial powers, that see the thoughts of men,  
When growing in their hearts, can witness I  
Abused your Royal bed, but by a dire  
Mistake.  Albo. 
Hah!  Parad. 
Your black adulterous Queen betrayed  
Me to her lust by wicked Arts.  Albo. 
This is a sober passion, but implies  
Something that is horrid.  Parad. 
Had not heroic war taught me t' affect  
No rage, but noble; she and Hermegild  
Had enticed me now to lengthen this your sleep,  
Until the day of general accounts.  Alb. 
Suspect must now be rash. Make your face known!  Snatches off his Scarf. 
He blushes like a Bride; whom through her thin  
Curtains, the peeping Sun beholds in soft  
Skirmish with her Lord. I must counterfeit,  
And seem to know all. Paradine, 'twas far  
From my conjecture, that a heart so much  
Obliged unto my love as thine, should wrong  
My Honour in a sense, which but to mould  
In words would teach my tongue to stammer, and  
Deafen all that hear it.  Parad. 
Thunder and sulphurous fire snatch my cold limbs  
From this dull earth. Sir, whilst my soul affords  
Me reason, and can direct me unto whom  
My true allegiance is a debt, kill me!  
When I am mad, I shall forget all duty,  
And refuse t' obey your Royal Charter.  
Thrust your good Sword home, till my heart shall kiss  
Your Hilts. Are you so slow in justice? Think,  
How by a dark mistake, I whored your Queen:  
Whored your Queen! O prodigious phrase!  Albo. 
Houle, meager Wolves! empty Tigers! let the hoarse  
Thracian Bull bellow, till he rent his throat;  
And the hot mountain-lion roar, until  
Their clamour wake the dead. The resurrection  
Is too long delayed, since we want horror  
To celebrate this news. Good! I have now  
Decreed it. Draw thy bright weapon!—  Parad. 
For what dire use?  Albo. 
That we may meet in single battle here,  
And struggle till we want our Souls.  Parad. 
Though this high enticement charms my blood, like  
The music of the Drum. Yet my remembrance  
Calls you King; My Royal Master. I would  
Not join rebellion and ingratitude  
To the prolix number of my sins.  Albo. 
O fond, indulgent Boy! I mourn at this  
Decay of thy humanity and sense.  
Does it become my great being, and my  
Glorious name in story, to offend  
Without resistance? Draw: and be nimble  
In thy motion—  Parad. 
I dare not so disgrace my Religion,  
And my love.  Albo. 
'tis time that I were dead, for I shall else  
Outlive my chief prerogative. I have  
Forgot how to command. unsheathe thy Sword!  
Or this breach of Duty shall teach methink,  
I ne'er enjoyed thy real love, and 'twas  
Not a mistake, that ushered thee to sin between  
My sheets, but a considerate lust—  Parad. 
No provocation like to this, could tempt  
A danger from my Arm— He draws.  Albo. 
Why dost thou dally thus with feeble motion?  
Bear up! and use more violence!  Parad. 
Some surgery from heaven! Are you hurt, Sir?  
You willingly opposed your breast against  
My steel, and never sought t' endanger me  
With yours.  Albo. 
'thouhast performed, what my wish did prophesy:  
I'm pricked here, about the heart; and my veins  
Grow empty.  Par. 
Then glorious war, and all proud circumstance,  
That gives a soldier noise, for evermore farewell—  Falling on his sword. Albo. 
Hold, Paradine. 'tis my last suit, that thou survive  
To minister a just revenge on those  
Whom I proscribe, help my quivering Limbs,  
And seat me in the Chair—  Parad. 
Shall posterity read it in story  
And believe; a Prince that doth deserve to be  
The first i'th' List of those, that gathered noise  
In war, can be thus covetous t' expire  
In silence dark. Fall on my fatal point,  
And yet command that I survive the Tragedy!  Albo. 
'Twere in me an affectation trivial  
To cherish life, now Rhodolinda's false.  
For should I still preserve my soul in flesh,  
I know my mercy is so fond to her;  
I should forgive her all: and wert thou dead,  
My hope were then deprived of future justice.  
Live to revenge her falsehood. I know thy heart  
So sincere and noble, that I suspect not thee  
A sharer in her guilt. When thou  
Didst first confess th'adulterous crime, joined with  
Thy own mistake, through Hermegild's deep Art,  
My faith conceived the truth: for thy Nature  
Is much too blunt, and credulous for Court.  Par. 
Should I but speak each cunning circumstance—  Albo. 
Contain thy breath! To hear that told, would make  
My soul wander in my last journey.  
Till thy relation brought it to my Ear,  
I never knew her false.  Parad. 
Still my amazement doth increase! Were you  
Not told of this before!  Albo. 
My knowledge only learned it of thy Tongue.  Par. 
Stay! Nor with Valdaura, you did ne'er project  
My death by poison?  Albo. 
Never.  Parad. 
Yet one reply, then make my joy exceed  
My wonder. Did you never in my bed,  
Commit a lustful stealth?  Albo. 
Angels in that, are not more free from guilt.  Parad. 
What Potter made this earthy Skull! pardon  
(Dear Valdaura) my dull suspect! Sing out  
Thy Hymns in heaven, and never listen more  
To my fond speech; for they have made me mad!  Albo. 
I cannot gripe the Air. Mark how it steals  
Through all my knotty Fingers—  Parad. 
Ecstasy!  Albo. 
Now my last, and short minute is arrived;  
I do, resign my Crown—  Parad. 
To whom sir?  Albo. 
To him I hate. But be thou sure, he wear  
It not till near his death: for it's a happiness  
To live enthroned, but 'tis not safe to die  
A King.  Parad. 
He doth pervert my sense.  Albo. 
Let the Drum cease! I'll have no more battles.  
He that to waste his trivial rage, doth fight  
A battle, rides a Hawking with the devil.  Parad. 
Mad as the Northern wind!  Albo. 
He sends a thousand drinking Animals  
To take their flight i'th' air, whilst little black  
Devils (d'ye not see 'em?) They look like Ravens.  
Mark how they prey on those immortal fowl,  
And plume 'em in their Talents! I do not like  
This Falconry: it is too sad a game  
For sinners— Oh, oh, oh!— Dies.  Parad. 
There died the noblest Trophy of our war!  
The Lombard's now have lost their victory.  
So hardy of creation, his heartstrings  
Were as Cordage, tough; cracked like a Cable,  
When the frighted Bark starts from the Anchor.  
All that are nursed in war, shall mourn for thee.  
Our Ensigns now we will of Cypress make. knocking.  
Hah! It is the wind that whispers! he must  
Be hid. I'm sure this noise can never wake him—  He puts him behind the Arras, opens the door, enter Rhodolinda. 
O, are ye come?  Rhod. 
Thou hast a wild aspect! Is it done?  Parad. 
He has paid for his wharfage already,  
And is now entering Charon's Boat.  Rhod. 
thouart precious as my Soul! He opes the Arras.  Parad. 
There's the old Face.  Rhod. 
He looks like a pale Country Virgin  
That longed to eat Mortar. Our chief design  
Is finished: but thou must add one knot more  
T' oblige my gratitude, and then we shall  
Triumph with safety. Hermegild must die;  
He knows too much.  Parad. 
It is as if the Parca spoke. If there  
Be any other whom your envy, or  
Your hate would have dismissed the world, make him  
But known, and he is numbered with the dead.  Rhod. 
Dear Paradine, I sure shall ravish thee,  
My appetite is grown so fierce. Let me  
Begin with thy moist lip— Pulls her to kiss him in the Chair.  Par. 
Let's to't like Monkeys, or the reeking Goat.  Rhod. 
Oh! oh! oh! Help! help!  Both are bloody about their mouths. Parad. 
Cease your loud clamour, Royal Whore.  Rhod. 
Thou didst eat my lips.  Parad. 
Thy flesh is sour, musty; more tainted than  
A Carrion in a phlegmatic ditch for else  
Like th' Anthropophagus, I had devoured thee up.  
This made Valdaura bleed, and must let forth  
Thy swarthy soul— Stabs her with his Poniard.  Rhod. 
Oh! oh! oh!—  Parad. 
For Albovine my Royal Master, this—  
And this to pacify Valdaura's Ghost—  Rhod. 
Oh, oh, oh!  Parad. 
So hard and stony is thy heart, that it  
Reverts the point of my bright steel.  Rhod. 
Mercy Heaven! She dies.  Parad. 
Since thou hast received my justice, I wish  
Thee mercy too— Knocking.  Hermegild within. 
My Lord.  Parad. 
'tis Hermegild, now I shall end my chief  
Discovery. What a full Sepulchre is this— Carries her in. Knocking again.  
Now I must practise my disguise. Revert  
The Spring twice, and you may enter.  Counterfeits a sick voice, sitting. Enter Hermegild, Thesina. Thes. 
My Lord, I have lost my honour in your service,  
You may choose one that shall affect you worse.  Herm. 
Lady, this is no time to woo: but  
D'ye think I'm so profane to violate  
My vow? Nimbly depart, I do conjure  
Your absence with this kiss—  Thes. 
If you should prove false—  Exit Thesina. Herm. 
'Slight, these Wenches at  
fifteen, are as riotous as Elephants.  
Marry a Court Kitten! There he sits! Hah, sick!  
My sweet Lord, how thrives your health? D'your pulses  
Still preserve their temperate music? have you  
Effected yet our great business?  Parad. 
The King is dead, that sanguine instrument  
Did set his Soul at liberty.  Herm. 
The Laurel, Myrtle, and the Bay shall still  
Cold and naked stand before the Winter's  
Frosty breath; still strip their Boughs, to make  
Your head triumphant wreathes. Where is the Queen?  
methinks (my Lord) your body and your mind  
Seem much disturbed.  Parad. 
Oh, oh! the poison works—  Her. 
Alas, my sweet dear Lord! (precious medicine!)  
He cannot possibly survive the next  
Minute. Does it destroy your strength?  Parad. 
Oh, oh! It scorches all my entrails up:  
As if like Porcia I had swallowed coals.  
I spit scum, such as o'er th' hot cauldron boil—  Her. 
And are you fastened in the chair with weakness?  Parad. 
I cannot rise. A stiff convulsion in  
My Sinews fetters all my limbs—  Herm. 
Hah! hah! ha!  Parad. 
O heaven, will you permit him laugh?  Her. 
I know th'Ingredients of thy poisonous draught.  
'Twas I that gave it to thy wife. 'Twas I  
Did counsel her to mingle it in thy wine,  
When thou wert hot, and all thy Pores open  
As thy mouth.  Parad. 
Oh, oh, oh!  Herm. 
Do, groan, till thou raise an echo in this  
Square roof. Ere long thy Ribs will start from thy  
Loose Chine, thy lank Belly swell into a hill.  Parad. 
O horror! horror! Is Heaven asleep?  Herm. 
The King ne'er knew of thy adulterous crime.  
'Twas I told it to Valdaura, and made  
Her think, thy guilt proceeded not from a  
Mistake, but from thy wilful lust. I've strung  
Thy nostril with a spinner's thread, so led  
Thee through subtle Labyrinths, t'involve  
Thy senses; and now I triumph o'er thy fate.  
This is Italian Spleen.  Parad. 
Had I but strength to actuate my revenge?  Herm. 
Good, dull Soldier! why didst thou leave the Camp,  
Thy rusty Morion there; thy battered Corselet;  
And thy shivered Lance, t' amble here at Court  
In slippery silks; to walk in cloudy mists  
Of perfumed air? 'tis I have shaked thy brains  
That heretofore were thick as Curds, into  
A pale, thin whey.  Parad. 
Draw near, and let me then but kill thee—  Herm. 
Troth, thou art so feeble now, that were I killed  
By thee, I scarce should think that I were dead.  Paradine rises, and snatches hermegild's sword from his side. Parad. 
No! that shall arrive unto the test. Dog! grim  
As th'angry Fiend, that must devour thy soul!  
I am not poisoned.  Herm. 
Hah! does he counterfeit?  Parad. 
See here, what abject ruins thou hast made  
O'the noblest structures in the world—  He draws the Arras, and discovers Albovine, Rhodolinda, Valdaura, dead in Chairs. Her. 
The Queen there too! O trivial Arts with my  
Own Mine I've blown myself e'en into dust!  Parad. 
I will now see, if thou canst bleed like things mortal—  Herm. 
Deprived of my defence! If thoust a soul  
(Great as thy fame) restore my Sword.  Parad. 
Thou barkest against the Moon! I will requite  
Thy own tyrannous scorn. That destiny  
Was just, that thus betrayed thee to my mirth.  
There, Stygian Dog— Wounds him.  Herm. 
Oh, oh! whilst I have warmth, I'll move with violence—  Parad. 
Where now are all the subtle Trophies of  
Thy brain? Plots, dark as hell! projections grim!  
Such, as threatened Nature, and seemed to fright  
The Genius of the world. Now, now prevent  
These dire salutes—  Herm. 
Return my Sword, then manage Steeples like  
To Pikes; yet, I'll affront thy fury—  Par. 
Hardy as the Scythians race, I greet thy heart—  Her. 
I stagger, and am drunk with my own blood!—  Parad. 
Take my last anger, and good night! Falls.  Herm. 
Oh, oh! thou hast stuck Needles in my heart!  Parad. 
Now I do swell with horror and stern rage:  
I will distract the whole world. Fire! fire! fire!  
Murder, Treason, & incestuous rapes! Fire! fire! Exit.  Herm. 
I spy  
A white Soul hovering in the air! one when  
Corporeal, was sure some humble Hermit  
Here on earth. He's acquainted with the way  
To Heaven: should mine take flight alone, I fear  
'T would stray! Hoa! you, you that ascend the Spheres!  
We sinners still seem hoarse to Angels ears.  
What, hoa! he turns not yet: who knows but he  
Still lived in low Valleys, built his Mansion  
In some aged wall? but my path ever lay  
On hills, where the good Patriarchs never trod.  
Vain Arts! Ambition in all sacred Schools,  
Is held the sin of Heathens, and of Fools. He dies.  Enter Paradine, Governor, Cunymond, Conrade, Frollo, the Guard, &c. Gouer. 
O dire and tragic sight! The King, the Queen  
And fair Valdaura slain!  Parad. 
here's another object fit for wonder,  
Though not for pity. Spurns Hermegild.  Gou. 
Hah! he dead too? Whence should these sorrows flow?  
Lay hold on Paradine.  Parad. 
All stay. I'll bore his haggard soul that strives  
With saucy strength, to captivate my Limbs:  
Hark, the big drum recovers breath, and speaks!  
March on! The scattered foe retires, and all  
The glorious Horse are slain. I am magnanimous,  
And high! O ye unkind false stars! ye mock  
Poor Paradine! A few clean Tears to wash  
My sins away, and I am seen no more.  Gouern. 
Cease on him; on forfeit of your lives!  Parad. 
Their lives are forfeited to me—  He fights with the Guard, they wound and disarm him. 
Here, here, it galled my very heart!—  Governor. 
Convey him gently in, and use all help  
Of surgery to stop his wounds: for from  
His mouth, we must receive the knowledge of  
These fatal deeds. Some give th'alarum to  
The Ports! You Signiors, lead to th'Citadel;  
Where, we'll proclaim Albovines young Issue  
By's former wife, to be his lawful heir.  
Wild Fancy may project things strange and new:  
But Time records no Tale so sad, and true.  
FINIS.