THE Siege and Surrender OF MONS. A Tragicomedy. Exposing the Villainy of the PRIESTS, and the Intrigues of the FRENCH.  
Licenced, April 23. 1691.  
LONDON, Printed for Richard Baldwin. 1691.   

Persons Represented.  

The Prince de Bergue Governor of Mons.  
Count Fontagne  
Count Ravellido 

Colonels of Horse,    
Brigadier Fagel.  
Marshal Spinosa.  
Colonel Brannacio.  
Colonel Harcourt.  
Major Pedro the Chief Engineer.  
Abbot Grimchi  
Abbot Vaneuf 

Pensioners to France.    
Durand, Ternon, Foquet, 3 Inhabitants of Mons, but Pensioners to the French.   

The King of France.  
The Dauphin.  
The Prince of Conde.  
Monsieur Lovis.  
The Duke of Luxemburgh.  
The Duke de Chartres.  
The Marquis de Bouffleers.  
The Marshal de Duras.  
Fevillade.  
Monsieur Vauban, Chief Engineer.  
Megrim, another Engineer.   
Women, Priests, Burghers, Deserters, Scouts, Spies, Soldiers, Rabble, etc.  
The Scene MONS. And the French Camp.   

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THE Siege and Surrender OF MONS.  


ACT I. SCENE I.  The Curtain drawn, discovers the Prince de Bergue, with the Counts Fontagne and Ravillido, Brigadier Fagel, Marshal Spinosa, and other Officers in Council at the Stadt-Huys or Town-Hall of Mons, examining a Scout, whom they had sent to observe the Motions of the French. Prince B. 
BUT does the Army march directly hither?  Scout. 
They seem, my Lord, to have no other aim,  
For from the Hills I saw their Cavalry  
Descend in so much order with their Trumpets,  
Haut-bois and Drums in warlike Consort playing  
As if instead of fighting they intended  
A solemn Triumph in the Plains of Hainault.  Prince. 
'Tis yet preposterous tho, to let such Joys  
Soften their Soldier's Minds before Engagement,  
Know you the Strength and Number of their Force?  Scout. 
Reports, my Lord, are Various, yet 'tis thought  
That Fifty thousand Men compose their Army.  Prince. 
Let Fifty thousand swell to Fifty Millions,  
As daring as their General Luxemberg;  
And cruel as the Marquis de Bouffleers,  
Yet Mons shall stand against their mighty Force,  
My Lords, your thoughts of this bold Undertaking?  C. Ravillido. 
'Tis what we feared, what did I say we feared it?  
Forgive the word— we know not what it means  
This friendly Visit we have long expected,  
But yet we hope with interest to repay it;  
'Tis kindly done to let us know their coming,  
That we get things ready for their welcome,  
And not as once in the Disguise of Merchants,  
Seize on our Gates, and let the Foes come in,  
Mine Heer (speaking to Fagel) you best the Towns Condition know.  Fagel. 
If Art and Nature ever yet contrived,  
A place to bear the worst attacks of Fortune,  
'Tis surely Mons can make the justest claim,  
If Hornworks, Bastions, Counterscarps, Redoubts, '  
With the united Force of Germans, Dutch,  
Walloons and Spaniards both of Foot and Horse,  
Bred in the Art of War and Blood since Infancy  
Speak a place strong, than Mons will try their Valour.  Prince B. 
Fagel, The Genius of a Martial Soul,  
Dictates your thoughts, yet Caution is a Virtue,  
For were our Bulwarks strong as walls of Brass,  
And Ramparts which to time might bid defiance,  
Yet were the Soldiers treacherous or disloyal,  
The place would quickly yield to gallic Force.  Fagel. 
The Soldiers false? avert the thought kind Heaven!  
My Lord, so very brave and stout the appear,  
As if one gallant and Heroic Soul  
Did actuate of Men so great a Body,  
The Burghers too have seemed to lay aside  
all thoughts of getting Wealth, and heaping Riches.  
daily they leave their Shops to handle Arms,  
and exercise with so much art and skill,  
as Nature seemed to have designed 'em Soldiers.  Prince B. 
Fagel you cheer my Soul with the Relation,  
But we have now no time for long Debates  
his Action now must make us Formidable,  
my Lords Fontagne and Ravillido, you  
with your respective Troops take care to guard  
●e Magazines, Spinosa 'tis your Post  
Upon the Walls to manage all the Canon  
To Harcourt I've already given a Charge.  Fagel. 
'Tis known you no Instructions want,  
Nor does your Godlike Virtue need Directions  
Let every Man of us although remember  
No common Cause we wear upon Swords,  
Let each but think that on his single Valour  
Depends the Glory or the Fall of Mons  
Eternal Honour or perpetual Slavery,  
If helps to Valour we should stand in need,  
Let us reflect upon the breach of Oaths,  
Truces and Edicts signed by treacherous French,  
Let's think of philipsburg, Spire, Worms, and other  
Once famous Towns, now heaps of Dirt and Ruins,  
Let this within our minds form such impressions  
Of French Civility that we may never  
Listen to Overtures of tame Surrender.  Fagel. 
Surrender— had I my Lord the least suspicion  
That in these Brains of mine such thoughts were lurking  
By Heaven I'd dash 'em out against a Mortar-piece,  
As soon my Wife and all my little Children,  
I'd tamely hold, before a Rugged Villain,  
whilst he with cruel Knife ripped up their Throats,  
As yield my Country up to Monsieurs Terms.  Ravillido. 
Bravely resolved. But Fagels not alone,  
There's not a Man that bears Command in Mons,  
Who will not wish to lose the use of Hearing  
Before he'll listen to such base Demand.  Prince. 
My Lords I pray you let no nice Suspicions  
Disturb our Friendships— Each Man to his Post,  
Mean while be Orders sent to all the Convents,  
The Monasteries and Religious Houses  
Within the City that the Holy Fathers  
With Prayers and Tears, long Fast and Processions  
May bribe the Saints t'assist us in our woes,  
And turn these threatning Clouds another Day  
Spinosa, wait upon me to the Palace.  Exeunt all but Fagel. Fagel. 
What e'er the Matter is I cannot tell,  
I do not love these Priests, for in a Siege,  
They are as useless as their Holy-water:  
'Tis strange, their Prayers should do no more Execution  
Than we effect with all our Bombs and Canon;  
And for their parts, they are unskilled in Arms:  
Yet I belly 'em, for these shaved Scoundrels  
Know but too well the use of Carnal weapons;  
They have more Business with their Female Penitents,  
Then hearing them confess and then absolve them.  
While we are fighting to defend their Lives,  
These holy Rogues are nibbling at our Wives.   

ACT I. SCENE II.  
The Scene the chief Street in Mons.  Enter six Burghers with Pioners and other Rabble. 1. Burger. 
(looking up) You Sirrah, untile that House quickly, or I shall untile your Brainpan for you— you Dog.  2. Burg. 
what's the meaning of your practice Neighbour, d'ye think the French when they've taken the Town, will come in at the Top of the House?  1. Burg. 
No, but they will send their Messengers beforehand to give us notice of their coming, by a very civil Person, in the shape of a Bomb.  2. Burg. 
And how does he deliver his Message?  1. Burg. 
Truly in a very passionate manner, he is so very full of rage that he bursts with it.  3. Burg. 
Why he speaks his mind very plainly then.  1. Burg. 
Ay and very loudly too when I was at Genoa, the French Fleet gave us a Visit en passant, and sent us such a number of these fiery Messengers, that the Town could hardly afford 'em houseroom.  4. Burg. 
Unpave that Quadrangle quickly, we'll endeavour they shall ●ll soft, for they are very apt to break their Bones when they come down.  5. Burg. 
This new way of House-breaking came up but very lately are.  6 Burg. 
And the Devil on't is, there's no Statute against it, But when are we to expect this French Visit?  1 Burg. 
They are now within 4 Leagues of the place and cannot fail Of being here by to morrow noon.  5 Burg. 
Well, Heaven be praised we are pretty well provided to entertain 'em, our Governor is a Wise Discreet Prince, his Officers Trusty, and I hope we have no Rogues amongst ourselves.  2 Burg. 
Only our foolish pity is apt to betray us in Complacense to the Women; my Wife does so desire me to keep out of Harms way, that she grows perfectly troublesome.  6 Burg. 
For my part I could wish 'em all in Purgatory while the Business is over.  1 Burg. 
Ay, and the Priests too with 'em, for they are never asunder, since the noise of the French's coming, the Confessionalls and Churches are so crammed with 'em, that one cannot get a Priest now to a sick man's Bed, and so the poor Wretch must go out of the World without Extreme Unction.  6 Burg. 
For my part I have an indifferent Opinion of my Wife's Honesty, but I cannot swear for the Chastity of her Confessor, since by a mistake he showed her Aretine's Postures instead of the Rosary.  Enter a Rabble bringing in 3 French Spies. 1 Rabble. 
Bring 'em along, bring 'em along— we'll give 'em Beef to their Vinegar.  2 Rabble. 
Will nothing go down with you ye Dogs but Gunpowder Sauce.  2 Burg. 
The Occasion of this Tumult quickly Sirrah.  1 Rabble. 
Why Sir, these very civil Gentlemen foreseeing the Misery we were to suffer in the Siege designed to have Blown up our great Magazine of Powder.  1 Burg. 
Horrible Rogues!  2 Rab. 
Nay Sir, the very Lighted Match was discovered within 9 inch of the Train.  3 Burg. 
By which it may be easily guessed they are not 10 inches from Halter.  1 Rab. 
The design Sir was laid in the Garden of Malheur the Fren● Lawyer, but he has trooped off and so saved his Bacon.  1 Burg. 
Shall Villainies like this remain unpunished?  
Rather than such designing Hellborn Rogues  
Should want due punishment I'd once turn Hangman,  
But lest our Passions should exceed Discretion  
Carry the Rascals to the Governor  
Who is too prudent and too just a Prince  
To let such Treacheries pass unrewarded.  1 Rah. 
Yes Sir, yes Sir, we'll conduct 'em to the Governor, and afterwards hope to make one Holiday to see 'em broke on the Wheel: Come away Dogs, Rogues, Sons of Whores, come away.  [Exeunt Rabble with the Prisoners. 5 Burg. 
A Lucky discovery this— the whole French Army could not do us half the mischief as one of these was able to effect—  1 Burg. 
Yet all this shall not abate one jot of my kindness for the French; Oh methinks a Monsieurs heart would be a rare Breakfast  5 Burg. 
Well Peppered and Salted upon a Spanish Gridiron.  Guns heard at a distance. 1 Burg. 
Hear you the noise?  2 Burg. 
I am not Deaf I think— well now the worst is come to the worst, if you'll follow my example, Bury your Plate, Lock up your Wives and Children, and with a Musket on his Shoulder, let every man be the Swiss of his own Family.  [Exeunt.  

ACT I. SCENE III.  Enter a large Procession of the Religious, the Host born under a Canopy by the Abbot's Grimchi and Vaneuf, assisted by the Dominicans, etc. the chief of the Town following in due Order, with Wax Tapers in their hands making a very large Train— Durand, Ternon and Foquet bringing up the Rear— in their solemn March the Priests sing. 

Behold behold ye blessed above,  
Who have no Passions now but Love,  
Behold our sad distressed Town,  
And look with tender Pity down.   

Look down upon our Virgin's Tears,  
Look down upon our Matron's Fears,  
Regard the cries of Old and Young,  
Who daily to the Temple throng,  
Your kindest pity we implore  
Our wishes cannot hope for more,  
'Tis pity pity we implore.   [The Procession goes off, manen● Durand, Ternon and Foquet. Foquet. 
Ha ha ha ha ha—  Durand. 
You're merry Foquet, the Occasion pray you.  Foquet. 
Have I not reason? when I see the two Abbots so very piously assisting at a Devotion when their hearts are quite another way.  Durand. 
How came you by this Intelligence, you are but a Layman, and Gentlemen of their Character seldom make such their Confessors.  Foquet. 
Come come Durand, and you Monsieur Ternon, off off with your Disguises, and show yourselves honest men— that is by interpretation according to the Spanish Version— Rogues.  Ternon. 
You amaze me for—  Foquet. 
Nay never start Ternon, you and I with Durand, are all engaged in one cause. See you this  (shows Gold) 
Who for such a Sum would not Hang his Father, lie with his Mother, and Crack his Sister's Maidenhead ha—?  Durand. 
Come, come, I see you have found us out, and for my part my Fortunes having been at Low Water-mark a long time, I thought a little French Gold no very unacceptable Present considering my Circumstances.  Ternon. 
Well then since we understand one another, let's consult the chief Methods how to merit more of these Favours.  Foquet. 
Our first chief Business must be to magnify the Glory's of the Frenchking in all Companies where we can do it safely; then that we may be equally as much at ease under his Government as under the King of Spain, who is at too great a distance to take Cognizance of the ill Administration of his Officers.  Ternon. 
I had a Letter t'other day from a Correspondence of mine in England, who tells me that Gentlemen there lay Wagers like mad that Mons will be in the French hands by such a time— you know our wishes generally command our Purses— but hold who are these—  Enter a Rabble crying out Confusion to the French, Confusion to the French. Rabble. 
How now, who are you?  Ternon. 
We Gentlemen, we are Citizens of Mons.  Rabble. 
Are you for the French or no?  Foquet. 
For the French, no, no? rot the Rogues, sink, burn and confound 'em— Heaven be Deaf to my Prayers.  [Aside. Rabble. 
Come come along with us, along with us.  Exeunt.  

ACT I. SCENE 4.  
SCENE. The Palace.  Enter Prince de Bergue Discoursing with Fagel and Spinosa with other Officers. Prince. 
I'm glad to find that generous Resolution  
Appears in both the Soldiers and the Burghers  
To keep the Town even to the last extremity.  Fagel. 
Never did men appear with greater Bravery  
In all the Sieges History makes mention  
Then this of Mons.  Prince. 
Have the French formed their Camp?  Fagel. 
They're very busy in pursuit of Ruin,  
Their Horse consist of two and forty Squadrons,  
And in fit posts they now their Foot are placing;  
Great numbers of the Boors they have compelled  
To work upon the Lines and drain the Marshes,  
As yet their Bombs and Cannon are behind,  
Nor have they given us one kind Salute  
From mouth of Gun, but hourly we expect it.  Prince. 
Since in Civility they are so backward,  
Let us then first begin— And you Spinosa  
Go quickly then and order Colonel Harcourt,  
With a picked number of bold daring Youths  
Assisted by some few Dragoons and Horse,  
That instantly they make a furious Sally  
Upon the Foe, and Heaven succeed their Arms.  Spinosa. 
I know, my Lord, the Message will be welcome,  
Their youthful Blood is ready to boil o'er  
With Rage against the French, with half that Eagerness  
They would not fly to the desired embraces  
Of the most charming of their Mistresses  
As now they will to Arms.  Prince. 
No Speeches Marshal—  
Their Truth I doubt not— execute your Orders.  Spinosa. 
I go my Lord.  Exit Spinosa. Prince. 
If my presaging hopes are true propheticks,  
Our Enemies will soon repent this Visit.  Enter one from the French Camp. Officer. 
My Lord, A Messenger from the Enemy:  Prince. 
Your Business, Sir.  Mess. 
'Tis from the noble Marquis de Bouffleers,  
Who to your Highness bid me give this Summons.  Prince. 
Read it Captain,  To an Officer. Officer Reads. 
To you the Prince and Governor of Mons,  
My Royal Master his kind Greeting sends,  
And in his Name commands you to surrender  
The Town and Citadel without delay;  
Which just Demand, if proudly you refuse,  
Himself attended with his Son the Dauphine,  
And all the Flower of France will force you to't,  Bouffleers. Prince. 
Go tell the Marquis from the Prince Bergue,  
The King of France affords me too much Honour  
to come himself in Person to behold  
the brave Defence we are resolved to make.  Exit Messenger. 
surrender Mons, my dear loved Native Town?  
as soon I'd sell my valued Right of Birth  
With Arms and plenty of Provisions stored,  
●e doubt not but to tire the Force of France.  
scarce thirteen years are past since they attempted  
to gain the Town, but then they were repulsed  
at height of Noon, and beaten from their Trenches  
by the brave Valour of the great Nassau  
●ow Britain's Monarch at the Hague Consulting  
the fittest Methods Christendom to free  
Tom servile Chains and Arbitrary Sway  
which gladly France would on all Europe lay    


ACT II. SCENE I.  e'en the Duke of Luxemburghs Tent in the French Camp, present himself, the Marquis de Boufflers, the Marshal de Duras, Fevillade, etc. Am. Bouffl. 
A trifling Loss, and scarcely worth the naming,  
〈◊〉 the whole Action but five hundred slain:  
●d we must do our Eemies that Justice,  
They sallied out like Men enured to Arms.  Luxemb. 
Relieve the Centries that have watched so long,  To the Officers. 
stir must have repose— this stubborn Town  
●l vexes me, yet were our numerous Army  
〈◊〉 great as e'er was chronicled in Story,  
〈◊〉 should be slain even to a single Man,  
are the King's Pretensions should be lost.  Enter a Messenger. Messeng. 
My Lord, another Sally has been made,  
〈◊〉 Enemy attempting to demolish  
Wind-mill to the Counterscarp adjoining,  
〈◊〉 in the Action kill two hundred Men.  Luxemb. 
Let them go on and surfeit with their Glory,  
Fortune with these Successes does but flatter 'em,  
Like Gamesters they at first have Lucky throws,  
This tempts them on to venture deeper still,  
Till they at last by one unlucky Chance  
lose all their flattering hopes and store of gain.  Boufflers. 
Never was better timed this City's Siege,  
Secure they lived, not Dreamed of such Attacques,  
The Governor of all the Spanish Netherlands  
Is at the Hague consulting how to form  
The Model of this present Summer's War,  
His presence wanting to inform their Actions,  
Like men just roused from sleep they talk and act,  
But 'tis with such Confusion that they hardly  
Know whether that they act or speak at all.  Enter a Second Messenger. Messenger. 
My Lords, his Majesty is with his Highness  
The Dauphin, Conde, and the Duke de Chartres,  
Together with the chiefest of the Nobles,  
Just now arrived in Person in the Camp,  
And your immediate Conference commands.  Luxemb. 
We go— This, Boufflers is the Soul of Courage,  
When our great Monarch does himself appear,  
At head of all his Numerous Troops in person,  
This no small Comforts to our hopes does bring,  
Cowards will Fight when headed by a King.   

ACT II. SCENE II.  A great Noise of Shooting is heard for some time, after which the Scene changes to the City of Mons. Enter Fagel with several Officers. Fagel. 
Secure the Hornworks, mount the Canon higher,  
And Fire so fast upon 'em, that the Enemy  
May lose themselves in Clouds of Fire and Smoak,  
I hate to Fight in Jest— How fare the Troops  (to the Officers. 
That you command, are they all brave and lusty?  1 Officer. 
Like Soldiers in the most exalted sense  
They Fight, and if of any fault they're guilty,  
'Tis they expose themselves too near to Danger.  Fagel. 
A Messenger is 〈◊〉 arrived in Town  
From our Chief Head the Marques Castanaga,  
T'inform the Burghers if they still persist  
To keep the Town till timely Succours come  
They shall be free from Taxes Twenty years:  
Had you but seen with what Excess of Joy  
The Message they received, you would have smiled;  
Fighting tho not agreeing with their Temper,  
Yet to be freed from Tribute are Valiant,  
For they hate Taxes worser than the French.  Enter Colonel Brannacio. (embracing him) 
Welcome thou Soul of War, what sort of News  
From Brussels does the Loved Brannacio bring?  Col. Brannacio. 
News is a Drug, for all Discourse and Talk  
Is laid aside, excepting Mons Beleaguered;  
Of this the very Children learn to prattle,  
And it is taken and relieved each hour:  
'Twas by Disguise myself and some few more  
Got into the Town  Fagel. 
And how appears the Army?  Branac. 
Dreadful enough in sight and apprehension  
to those who want true Courage to defy  
the Force of such a Formidable Foe.  
●met a Gentleman upon the Road,  
Going in haste to the Marquis Castanaga  
●inform him of the Present State of Mons,  
and press for speedy Succours for our Aid.  Fagel. 
Tho Plenty never was esteemed a Burden,  
at present we no Helps nor Aids require;  
Provisions we have got so great a Stock,  
to last four Months without the least Recruits;  
our Men are hearty and unanimous,  
●ch striving who his Fellow shall outdo  
facts of Valour; nay the very Burghers  
●e Soldiers too, and hourly on the Walls  
〈◊〉 Random Bullets do their Breasts expose.  Brannacio. 
The Prince just now received a haughty Message  
From Monsieur Lovis, That for every day  
They stubbornly held out (since their great Monarch  
Was in the Camp,) they should for such offence  
Pay numerous Crowns for each delaying Morning.  
Bravadoes— Let them first defend the Claim  
They make before they seize upon our Purses.  [A Trumpet heard!] 
But hark some Signal,— Each Man to his Post,  
Bravely we must defend, or Mons is lost.  [Exeunt.] Enter several Burghers and Soldiers running 'cross the Stage with Buckets in their hands, crying out, Quench the Fire, quench the Fire. The Scene closes.  

ACT II. Scene 3.  The Scene. The French Kings Tent in the French Camp, in which appears Lewis the XIV. The Dauphin, The Prince of Conde, Monsieur Lovis, The Duke d'Chartres, Monsieur Vauban, and other Officers. K. of France. 
When will my thirst of Glory find a Period?  
Since I have aimed at Universal Monarchy,  
A restless thought still raging in my Breast,  
Makes my Days irksome, and my Night's unquiet:  
Whole Provinces already I've laid desolate,  
And where so ere I stretched my Conquering Arms,  
In Blood and Ruins I make good my Title.  Lovis. 
By this, great Sir, your Empire you enlarge.  K. F. 
'Tis my Ambition Lovis to be great;  
Men of my rank do seldom think of dying:  
But 'tis methinks a kind of satisfaction,  
When after Ages seeing Towns destroyed,  
Shall say, that Lewis made that Desolation.  
Does Mons yet still persist in Obstinacy?  Dauphin. 
'Tis the old stubborn Town it ever was;  
They nothing want to make a brisk Defence.  K. F. 
Vauban you nicely have surveyed the place.  
Where lies its chiefest strength, and where it's weakness?  M. Vauban. 
Great Sir, I must confess their Forts are built  
By the strict rules of modern Architecture,  
Their Bastions strong, their Hornworks regular,  
Their Ramparts good, and the deep Moats and Ditches  
Add no small strength to the distressed Town.  
Four Days your Royal Troops have Mons beleaguered,  
And if my skill in War does not deceive me,  
Before the Sun six times goes round the Globe,  
The place will yield to your victorious Arms.  K. F. 
It shall,— the mighty Lewis says it shall,  
If force compel not, than I use my Gold;  
No trifling Sum I've brought to give the Soldiers,  
Who shall be taken notice of in Battle,  
To give the best assurance of their Valour,  
Besides some greater Sum for private Service;  
I have my Friends in Mons as well as Philip.  
Lovis, here, take th●● Gold (gives a Purse,) and send it quickly  
By some bold lusty Officer of yours  
In a Deserters habit to the Town,  
And to the abbots Grimchi and Vaneufe,  
Commend my Love, and tell 'em I'm their Friend;  
Let this old Gold express my secret meaning,  
The best the Language of my Presents know.  Lovis. 
I fly, dread Sir, to execute your Pleasure.  [Exit Lovis.] Enter Luxemburgh, Bouffleers, etc. F. K. 
How goes the Siege, my Lords? You seem concerned;  
I read some strange confusion in your Faces.  Luxem. 
Think not, great Sir, that fear or Cowardice,  
Makes us thus wear this sadness on our looks;  
To both we're strangers.— 'Tis the great concern  
We bear to your Majestic Reputation,  
Which we suspect will find some Diminution.  
In the Attempts upon the stubborn Mons.  F. K. 
Have I selected out from all my Troops  
The choicest Men, and brought my household Guards  
Gens d'Arms, Light-horse, and such a Train of Cannon  
T'oppose one stubborn Town? and am I baffled?  
By all the Saints our holy Church adores,  
I swear that no expense of Men or Money  
Shall e'er be wanting to reduce the Place.  Bouffl. 
Great Sir, the Soldiers in your Royal Army  
Behave themselves with an uncommon Bravery;  
But there is no defence against our Fate.  F. K. 
Talk not of Fate to me; my Lord, I tell you  
I overrule her closest laid Designs,  
And have her at my beck;— nay more, command her;  
And notwithstanding these cross Accidents,  
Am certain, that before few days are ended,  
This Town of Mons will own me for her Master.  
To you Rubenton (speaking to him) our old trusty Servant,  
We give the Government of this Conquered City  
When ere it falls into Our Royal Hands;  
Mean while, you Luxemburgh, Bouffleers, and all  
My Officers relating to the Siege,  
Open the Trenches, use your utmost force,  
To make the Town comply; but if it still  
Resists my Arms,— by all the Gods I swear,  
Within their streets I'll lay a Scene of Blood  
Shall make their Dwellings horrible to Nature.  
I will— my Lords, St. Guislan is my Quarters,  
Where I with ease refresh myself, still waiting  
When the glad News arrives that Mons is taken;  
Then with a Grandeur like myself I enter,  
As did my Predecessor Julius Caesar  
Along the streets of Rome; for 'tis resolved,  
Mons shall submit and own my Regal Power,  
Or sudden ruin shall the Globe devour.  [Exit with his Train.] Manent, Luxemburgh and Bouffleers. Luxemb. 
It shall submit— for so our Sovereign swears,  
I wish it may, but when I make Reflections  
With what true Courage they defend the Town,  
I know not what to think.—  Bouffl. 
— Besides my Lord,  
The Prince of Orange at the Hague, is raising  
A numerous Army of picked chosen Soldiers  
To raise the Siege, or else to give us Battle.  Luxemb. 
All actions when t'extremity reduced  
Require our nicest prudence; we no time  
For long set-Speeches and Debates can spare;  
It must be Action terminates the War.—  [Exeunt Ambo.]  

ACT. II. Scene 4.  The Scene changes to the Fort upon Windmill-hill. Engineer Pedro, Spinosa, and other Officers and Soldiers appear. Pedro. 
To see the various effects of Fortune!  
Thrice has this place been in the Enemy's hands,  
And thrice they have been beaten out again,  
With more than Roman Bravery by the Soldiers.  Spinosa. 
Major, If any thing of War I know,  
I think it is not safe to keep the place  
In our own Power; indeed 'tmust be confessed,  
To take it, they have now already lost  
In their Attaques about Two thousand Men.  
A pretty Sum for such a trifling Post.  Pedro. 
Your Advice, What must be done?  
My orders from the Prince are independent.  
He giving me a large and full Commission,  
To act as I should judge most proper for the safety  
Of Mons distressed; now, Sir, with low submission  
To your grave Judgement, I esteem it fittest  
That instantly we blow the Windmill up.  Spinosa. 
No flattery, Pedro, I resign myself  
And thoughts entirely to your wise directions;  
Soldier— (speaking to one) how stands the Enemy abroad?  1. Soldier. 
My Lord, they're very busy in working upon the Trenches, little thinking poor Curs they are digging their own Graves.  Pedro. 
Is the Coast free from any straggling Troops?  2. Soldier. 
Yes, my Lord, only half a Dozen or so together, a louzing themselves in the Sun; I wonder what quarter's the poor Vermin can find upon such threadbare Coats.  Spinosa. 
Then March all out, but not in heaps at once.  
But three or four together to the Town,  
Put on a cheerful look as unconcerned,  
The last that stay, are Pedro and myself,  
Who with a Train will blow the Windmill up,  
Then try our utmost valour in the Siege.  1. Soldier. 
We go, my Lord, we go; but if we should meet with a Party of French in our way, we cannot forbear boxing 'em for our Lives, poor rotten Rogues; for t'other Day I twanged one of them by the Nose, and with a slight pull it came off into my hand, I believe all his Carcase was of the same Brittle Ware.  Spinosa. 
Be cautious, tho' in all your undertakings. Pedro have you affixed the Train?  Pedro. 
I have, my Lord.  
Now for the Town, where Fortune seems to vary,  
But Heaven forbid our Arms should still Miscarry.   

ACT II. Scene 5.  Scene, A street in Mons. Enter several Burghers in Arms, with Pioners and Soldiers. 1 Burg. 
HAve you quenched the Fire in Domingoes- street?  Pioneer. 
Yes, Sir, but there is another broke out near the Palace.  2. Burg. 
These Bombs are like Plasters of Cantharides, they raise Blisters where ere they are applied.  3. Burg. 
I think o' my Conscience the whole Town is troubled with a Saint Antony's Fire, for 'tis burning almost in every place.  [A great noise heard.] 2. Burg. 
Ha! what noise is that, Heaven guard our Senses.  Enter a Soldier running. Soldier. 
Good news, good news, the Windmill is blown up.  1. Burg. 
Is that such good news, say you?  Sould. 
Yes, Sir, for Major Pedro blew it up to prevent the French making use of it to annoy the Town; I have but one little Cottage of my own, and I'd make a Bonfire on't before the French should have it.  1. Sould. 
Nay, never fret yourself about that Fellow, Soldier, for if they go on as they began, the whole Town will be but one continued Bonfire in a little time.  2. Soldier. 
But we have pretty well warmed their fingers for 'em already, they have lost (if Report be not a damned confounded lying Son of a Whore) above three thousand Men, and we not too hundred and sifty since the Siege.  Enter a Swisser Deserter. 2. Burg. 
How now, in the name of Wonder, who art thou?  Switz. 
Why, Sir, I am a Man and no Man, a Soldier and no Soldier.  1 Burg. 
Or any thing, or rather nothing; speak quickly, what are you? who are you? and who d'ye belong to?  Switz. 
Sir, I was a Soldier in the French Camp, and for divers and sundry reasons have deserted it.  Soldier. 
To come to be a Spy upon us— knock out his brains, knock out his brains for a Son of an overgrown Mustachio.  Swisser. 
You wrong me, Gentlemen, I am no Villain,  
But one whom just resentment has compelled  
To leave the French, my once Tyrannic Masters,  
To serve— Oh I am very faint.  1. Burg. 
Give him some Brandy, give him some Brandy; a very honest fellow, this o' my Conscience, rub his temples, rub his Temples— so, no now he comes to himself— Well Friend, how stands the French Camp?  Switz. 
It moves along in a continued Motion,  
First on one side, then by and by on t'other,  
And whispers hourly, buzz about the Camp,  
That a great Army hastens to relieve  
Your almost ruined Town, or give 'em Battle.  2. Burg. 
Courage, Courage, my Boys, cheer up, my little Sons of Fire and Gunpowder— here poor Fellow, there's some Money for you— I am mightily in love with this Swisser.  1. Burg. 
Will you affirm all this before the Prince?  Switz. 
Yes and much more, for I have some Reports  
Are only fitting for his private Ear,  
Which if suspected, let me lie in Prison,  
Until the certainty of all's confirmed.  1. Burg. 
Odd I love the Rogue from my heart, come I'll go along with you to the Governor, and I'll warrant thee a Gold Chain and Medal.  Switz. 
— Or if I'm false, a halter.  [Exeunt the Burghers, with the Switz. Enter a great Rabble Crying out, Fire. Sould. 
Where, where?  Rabble. 
Every where, every where, in the Palace, in the Market place. The whole Town is but one great Oven, and I think they design to bake us in't, come away, come away.    


ACT III. Scene I.  Scene the Palace, present the Prince, Fagel, Harcourt, Spinosa, Pedro. etc. Prince. 
SO great an Army 'fore so small a Town,  
Seems that by numbers they design to Conquer;  
As yet through all the sad Calamities  
Of Fire and Blood, Mons resolutely stands  
The Object of their hate— but Fagel Tell,  
What succours from abroad must we expect?  Fagel. 
Enough, if timely they assistance lend,  
For th'English Monarch our once blessed Deliverer,  
With fifty thousand Men of the Confederates,  
Lie now encamped near Brussels, thence, to Hall;  
They march, where they expect some other Troops  
To join them, which, with Regiments of Scotch and Spanish  
Expected, likewise will increase the Army  
To seventy thousand choice selected Soldiers.  
I mention not their Mortars, nor their Cannon,  
Which all together make a glorious Army.  Prince. 
May Heaven succeed their Arms; but all this while  
How stand Affairs within ourselves? I fear  
The Soldiers harassed with continual Watchings,  
And Burghers with their Losses half distracted,  
May have some inclinations to surrender,  
To rid themselves of this uneasiness.  Fagel. 
My Lord, I only for the Soldiers speak,  
They are unanimous, and every Man  
Will to the last defend the City's Glory  
Against the bold Encroachments of the French.  Harcourt. 
The Burghers too my Lord, to all Appearance Are resolutely brave and bold in Action.  
I know not how their Wives Endearments may  
Soften their Minds, and lead their Wills astray.  A Great Shout heard. Enter a Messenger. Prince. 
The News.  Messeng. 
My Lord, ill Tidings must salute your Ears,  
The Half-Moon of the Horn-work next the Gate  
Of Barlemont being widened with their Cannon,  
Was just now with about Seven thousand Men  
Stormed with that fury, that in little time  
The French became the Masters of the Fort,  
But in the three Attaques they gave the Place;  
They lost at several times Three thousand Men.  Prince. 
This sad Relation checks me not at all.  Fagel. 
Nor me.  Harcourt. 
Nor me.  Pedro. 
Nor any whose great mind  
Is placed above the rude Assaults of Fortune.  Prince. 
Fagel and you Spinosa— to the City  
Hasten with speed and animate the Burghers;  
Their Drooping Spirits may perhaps need Cordials.  
Harcourt and Pedro— to your Posts advance,  
And let the Soldiers want no due Encouragement,  
Whilst I about the Town in different Quarter's  
Comfort, advise, and order Necessaries;  
But stop our Ears to all Capitulation.  Fagel. 
Forbid it Heaven! No, first let glorious Mons  
Be made the Seat of one continued Fire,  
And every Soldier perish in the Flame,  
Rather than tamely yield our Lives so, and Fortunes  
To French discretion.— If I hear one whisper,  
Wherever I resort, of tame Surrender,  
By Heaven I'll split the Skull of such a Man,  
Were he my Brother, or what's more my Friend.   

ACT. III. Scene 2.  The Scene a fine Apartment. Enter the two Abbots, Grimchi and Vaneufe. A. Van. 
Methinks, Brother, you look very cheerfully to day; these pleasing smiles of yours do not suit with the Calamity of the Times.  A. Grimchi. 
What necessity is there, I should be dull and cloudy because the Times are so?  A. Vaneufe. 
Great reason, our humours should always sympathize with melancholy occasions.  A. Grimchi. 
No Brother, I had a Cordial sent me to day from the French Kings own Closet, [shows a Purse of Gold] smell on't, d'ye think 'tis rightly prepared.  A. Vaneufe. 
I believe I can match it,— [shows another Purse] 'tis exactly the same Colour, and prepared by the same hand, I believe; you know how to use it, I suppose.  A. Grimchi. 
I were a blockhead else.  Enter three Women. 1 Wom. 
Oh Lord, Father, I am in such a fright, I shall never be recovered again.  2 Woman. 
Oh Father, these Guns, these filthy Guns have made me almost distracted.  3 Woman. 
Oh the Pains and Perils of Childbirth, are but a flea-biting to the Fears I hourly suffer. Oh! my poor Husband was thrown down in a Crowd, and has bruised his little Finger, I'm afraid he'll never recover again.  A. Grimchi. 
Forbear, Daughters, these sad complaints,  
You must look further than the outward cause,  
Heaven has a good design in these Afflictions,  
To humble us, and make us still more Virtuous.  1. Woman. 
I shall be humbled I think with a Witness, I have neither washed my face nor combed my head since the siege began, besides a large Trunk in our Garret took fire, and burned all my best Linen.  2. Woman. 
Nay, a Bomb that fell into our Yard, spoiled me nineteen Dutch Cheeses, and five Firkins of Butter; Oh Lord, I'm undone, undone, why, I shall never eat a good Meal again.  A. Vaneufe. 
Patience, Daughters, patience. 'Tis Heaven's High Pleasure, and there's no contending.  3. Woman. 
Oh these wicked French, they have killed all my Poultry, and the noise of the Cannons has sow'rd all the liquour in my Cellar.  A. Grimchi. 
Cease those Complaints, as fruitless all, we charge you, By scratching of the Wound you make it fester.  1. Woman. 
I have not seen my poor Husband this three days, I'm afraid he was killed at the Horn-work.  2. Woman. 
And mine had been killed too, If I had not locked him up in the Cellar poor Man.  A Bomb falls at some distance, and makes a great noise, at which the Women and Priests fall down flat on their Faces, crying out. W. and P. 
Oh Lord, I am dead, I am dead, O Jesus Maria, libera●nos.  Enter a great number of the most cowardly Burghers, with other Rabble, running hastily into the Room for shelter, they stumble over the Priests and the Women. 1. Burg. 
hay day, hay day, here's fine doings; my Wife upon the Floor with two Priests, they talk of Hornworks in the Town, I believe there has been some Works of that nature going forward here.  1. Woman. 
Oh Lord, Hubby, are you alive?— When the Bomb went off I fell in a Trance, and fancied your Corpse appeared to me, and methought you were so stiff.  1. Burg. 
Come, come, no more fooling.  
After some time, they all get up, and every one bows to the Priests, who bless them with the sign of the Cross, and sprinkle Holy Water on them.  2. Burg. 
Will our Misfortunes never have an end? 'Tis now a thing to me indifferent, whether we keep Mons or no, for my part I'm undone already.  3. Burg. 
And I too, I am not worth the twentieth part of a Ducat.  2. Woman. 
Oh, my Husband and I, when we were first married, had a great deal of good House-hold-stuff, but 'tis all destroyed excepting a hard flock Bed, and a joint stock.  1. Woman. 
I wish the French had the Town for my part so the Inhabitants were but at quiet.  2. Burg. 
And I too, let the Turk have it rather than live this sad noisy Life.  1. Burgh. 
But they say we shall be relieved by the Confederate Army.  2. Burg. 
Yes, by doomsday in the Afternoon.  A Grimchi. 
Friends, Citizens—  3. Burgh. 
Silence there, silence there, let the Father speak.  [a great silence. A. Grimch. 
Friends, Citizens, Inhabitants of Mons,  
By the offended hand of Heaven, you suffer  
These sad Calamities of Fire and Sword,  
Some very grievous Crimes you have committed;  
Which thus has caused the Face of Heaven to frown,  
Your Town besieged by the French, has suffered  
All the Misfortunes that attend a Siege;  
But they are Catholics, and so are you;  
Shall these fall out? Forbid it, oh just Heaven,  
The Succours which pretend they would relieve you,  
Are Heretics ' mark that, my Friends, they'yr Heretics;  
Would you to have your Town preserved by Heretics,  
Hazard the safety of the true Religion  
The Sacred Roman Apostolic Faith?  
Consider this, and tell me then ye sufferers,  
Whether ye are true Christians, yea or no?  1. Burgh. 
What think you, Neighbour, does Father Grimchi speak truth or no— ha.  2. Burg. 
A notable Speech o' my Conscience,  
But how, Father shall we help ourselves?  F. Grimchi. 
Will you for once my Ghostly Counsel take  
All. Ay, ay, all of us, Father,— silence.  A. Grimchi. 
Then putting on your most dejected looks,  
Yourselves and Wives shall to the Governor hasten.  
But lest through hopes and fears you grow unruly.  
The Reverend Father Vaneufe and myself,  
Will go before you in a large Procession,  
And tell him the Calamities you suffer.  
And that 'tis better to surrender far,  
Than still to feel the dire effects of War.  All cry out. 
A surrender, a surrender, we'll Capitulate.  A. Vaneufe. 
Let every one by different ways repair  
To th' Market place in less than half an hour,  
Where we'll assist you to our utmost Power.  [Exeunt, the Rabble one way, the Priests another.  

ACT III. Scene 3.  Scene the Palace, present the Prince, Ravilledo, Pedro fagel, etc. Prince. 
NO Succours come! Oh most ill timed delay.  Fagel. 
Tho' Succours still we want, yet 'tis a pleasure,  
To think how dear our Enemies have paid  
For this Attempt upon the Town of Mons;  
The Duke de Maine, and the Grand Prior of France,  
Killed in the Trenches; Megrim the Engineer  
Wounded in both his Arms, and sent to Tournay,  
〈◊〉 and Vendosme hurt almost to death,  
〈◊〉 in their Attacques upon the Hornworks,  
〈◊〉 lost at least above six thousand Men.  [A great Noise heard. 
What Tumult can be this, which dares presume,  
T'infest the Palace at this time of Day?  Enter a Messenger. Messeng. 
My Lord, my Lord, a most confused Rabble,  
Of Men and Women, headed by the Abbots,  
Old Grimchi and Vaneufe, are pressing forward,  
And say that they have business with your Highness.  Prince. 
I never liked the two fat Abbey Lubbers,  
They're dangerous I fear— go, know their Business.  Exit Messenger. 
I have a strange suspicion that these Villains  
(Forgive the word) have put th' unthinking Rabble  
Upon the Project of Capitulation.  Re-enter the Messenger. Messeng. 
My Lord, they press upon the place so thick,  
They have already filled the outward Courts,  
Where loudly, every one of them, bauls out, Surrender,  
We'll hold no longer out, let's hear their Terms.  Prince. 
Villains— but ah I want too bad a Name,  
To brand 'em with— Betrayers of their Country,  
What shall I call 'em?— Oh I am lost in passion;  
These Priests have caused this Mischief; oh that Lucifer  
Had took 'em all into his private Custody  [Shouts heard. 
Before the Siege— the Torrent grows too high,  
And faint resistance makes it flow the faster.  
Nothing we want; our Arms and our Provisions  
Hold out, the Soldiers too are valiant,  
And nothing but the Priests and Burghers Cowards;  
O Priest-Craft, Shop-Craft! how do ye Effeminate  
The Mind of Man.  [A Drum is heard upon the Walls and shooting. 
Ha! do I hear a Drum?  
Nay, then 'tis done, and Mons is now no more;  
The Plagues which did all Egypt's Land infest,  
Are nothing to the single plague of Priest.  [Exeunt  

ACT III. Scene 4.  Sense. The French Camp; present the King, the Dauphin Lovis, etc. K. F. 
My Nobles slain and wounded, with the Deaths  
Of such a numerous company of Soldiers,  
Besides my Magazines of Forage spent,  
And all this loss before a stubborn Town.  [A very great Shout heard. 
Ha! what can this mean— yet my presaging hopes  
Tell me, my golden Plot has ta'en effect.  Enter a Trumpeter from D. Luxemburgh. Trump. 
Great Sir, the Town despairing of all Succour,  
●s beating of a Parley on the Wall  
This very instant.  F. K. 
— Distract me not with Falsehood;  
am glad to hear it tho— Now famous Mons  
〈◊〉 mine, and shall continue mine for ever.  Dauphine. 
And may all refractory Towns that dare  
hand out against your most victorious Arms  
meet the like Fortune, or a worser Fate.  F. K. 
This is a glorious opening the Campaign;  
●ow am just what a late Motto styled me,  
●e against all; since with my single Force,  
●id defiance to all Europe's Arms.  
Value not their Counsels at the Hague,  
and scorn their most united Power more,  
●●rd of myself, and all Mankind beside.  
such day I add fresh Laurels to my Brows;  
〈◊〉 Poets rack their Brains to make new Triumphs,  
and public Joy resound through all the Camp,  
Whilst I myself in Person go to view  
The Flagg of Truce— and bless my Eyes! with gazing  
Upon the Ruins of a Conquered Town,  
Which adds another Ruby to my Crown.   

ACT III. Scene 5.  The Scene opening, discovers the Burghers upon the Wall in great numbers, with a Flag of Truce, and a Drum beating. Below in the Trenches stand Luxemburgh and Bouffleers, with with other Officers and Soldiers. Luxem. 
(— Looking backward,) Command silence there. (Looking up,) Now your Demands.  1 Burg. 
First Hostages must be exchanged.  Lux. 
Ours are ready.  3 Burg. 
And so are Ours.  [Exchange of Hostages is made. Lux. 
Where are your Articles of Capitulation?  2 Burg. 
Here; but with most unwillingness we got 'em.  
The Governor was at least two hours before he could be persuaded to set his hand to 'em.  1 Burg. 
Would it not vex any Man to set his hand to a writing that conveys his Estate from him.  Lux. 
None of your Preaching Mr. Burgher, your Guns have spoke too loud already.  1 Burg. 
Old Fagel would not sign.  2 Burg. 
'Tis a cross old basket hilted Officer.  
And will you now my Lords perform these Articles signed on your part?  Lux. 
Most inviolably.  Enter the French King incognito. K. F. 
How could I feast my Eyes with such a sight?  
O Mons, thou first-born of this Summer's Conquests,  
Thy Articles shall be as firmly kept  
As all those other Contracts I have made.  [Exit. Lux. 
Now let all hostile Actions cease between 〈◊〉 We all are friends, though with some kind of sorrow;  
The Garrison we view march out to morrow.  [Scene  

ACT. III. Scene 6.  The Scene discovers a Regiment of Horse drawn-up, and parted 〈◊〉 two Lines, through which Drums beating, and Colours flying, and 〈◊〉 at all Points; the Garrison, march out, after them thirty covered 〈◊〉 gons, fifty Persons on Horseback in Masques, six pieces of Canon and two Mortars: After all the Prince d'Bergue magnificently mounted with his Sword in his hand, and Attendance due to his Quality.— The Dauphin and Luxemburgh at the Head of the Regiment;— As he passes by the Dauphin, he makes three salutes with his Sword. Prince. 
Your Highness may believe 'tis with regret  
I now surrender up this dear Loved Town;  
Had not the Burghers with their Clamours deafened me,  
I had not thus been forced to a Compliance.  Dauph. 
My Lord, 'tis known you are too brave a Foe  
To merit evil usage: We may pity,  
But cannot now in justice help your Fortunes.  
Your Soldiers fought like Men inspired with Courage;  
Who could do less under so brave a General?  
Your Conduct in the Siege all Tongues commend,  
And pray esteem the Dauphin as your Friend.  [Exeunt Omnes. 
FINIS.