Virtue betrayed: OR, ANNA BULLEN. A TRAGEDY. ACTED at His Royal Highness THE DUKE's Theatre. Written by JOHN BANKS.  Crescit sub Pondere Virtus. 
LONDON: Printed for R. Bentley and M. Magnes, in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden MDCLXXXII.   

TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS PRINCESS, ELIZABETH, Duchess of SOMERSET.  
Madam,  
HAving met with Success in a Poem of this Nature, I was encouraged to proceed, and lay the Scene again in a Country that, perhaps, hath not been, nor is now inferior for heroic Personages to any part of the World; and if It is not so esteemed, it has been through the dulness of our Historians, or the Ingratitude or Designs of our Poets, who may think it an easier Course to write of the Improbable and romantic Actions of Princes remote, both by distance of Time and Place, than to be confined at home, where every schoolboy has a right to be a critic, and every Gentleman an Interest to stand the Champion of his Family, against a rash and inconsiderate Author. I say not this to derogate from those Excellency of Your real Perfections; and though her Merits raised her to a Crown, and she was Queen, her Fortunes were less Miraculous than Yours. For Heaven, without a Diadem, never showered down so many admirable Blessings of Virtue, Beauty, Birth, Wit, and Fortune, upon any One of Your Sex before. I dare no further attempt their Description with my Ignorance, lest I speak too Meanly or Irreverently of 'em; therefore I'll leave the mighty Subject to some more Glorious Pen: For none but a Cowley, or the best of laureates, aught to write of you: My mean style has no other Ornament than Truth; and with that, and in all Humility, I return Thanks for Your most Gracious Acceptance of so poor a Trifle, which has scarce given a more happy Life to the Play, than it has to the Author, who is, Madam,  
Your Grace's most Humble, most Obedient, and most Devoted Servant, J. Banks.   

PROLOGUE Spoken to Anna Bullen, written by a Person of Quality.  

TO all Impartial judges in the Pit,  
And every beauteous Patroness of Wit;  
I'm sent to plead the poet's Cause, and say,  
There's not one Slander in his modest Play:  
He brings before your Eyes a modern Story,  
Yet meddles not with either Whig, or Tory.  
Was't not enough, vain Men of either side,  
Two Roses once the Nation did divide?  
But must it be in danger now again,  
Betwixt our Scarlet, and Green-Ribbon Men?  
Who made this difference, were not England's Friends;  
Be not their Tools to serve their Plotting Ends.  
Damn the State-Fop, who here his Zeal discovers,  
And o'er the Stage, like our ill Genius, hovers:  
Give us a Pit of Drunkards, and of Lovers;  
Good Sanguine Men, who mind no State Affair,  
But bid a base World of itself take Care.  
We hope there lives not so abhorred a Thing,  
But loves his Country, and would serve his King.  
But in your Parties, why should we engage,  
Or meddle with the Plots of a mad Age?  
We lose enough by those upon the Stage.  
Welcome Mask-Teazer, Peevish gamester, Huffer;  
All Fools, but Politicians, we can suffer;  
A god's name, let each keep to his Vocation;  
Our Trade is to mend You, and not the Nation:  
Besides, our Author has this further End,  
'Tis not enough if but One Side's his Friend;  
He needs you All, his weakness to defend:  
And to oblige you to't, hopes he has shown  
No Country has Men braver than your own.  
His Hero's all to England are confined;  
To your own Fathers (sure) you will be kind.  
He brings no foreigners to move your Pity,  
But sends them to a jury of the City.    

PERSONS Represented.  

KING Harry. Mr. Smith.  
Cardinal. Mr. Gillow.  
Northumberland. Mr. Wiltshire.  
Piercy. Mr. Betterton.  
Rochfort. Mr. Jos. Williams.  
Anna Bullen. Mrs. Barry.  
Lady Diana Talbot. Mrs. Petty.  
Lady Eliz. Blunt.  
Young Princess Elizabeth.  
Ladies, Gentlemen, Attendants, and Guards.   
SCENE  
LONDON.   
Virtue betrayed: OR, Anna Bullen.  

ACT I. SCENE i  Enter Northumberland and Rochfort. North. 
THis is the Day shall Crown your Parents wishes,  
And long expecting hopes: The King intends  
To publish straight his Marriage with your Sister,  
And make her known by th' Title of his Queen;  
The Reason why it was so long kept secret,  
Was our great Cardinal's Delays, and Tricks  
Of Rome, which Harry has with Frowns discovered:  
But since, in spite of Woolsey and the Conclave,  
By Reverend Cranmer has the Cause been tried;  
And Katherine is this day proclaimed divorced.  Roch. 
Heaven be my Witness, brave Northumberland!  
It joys not me, but that it is his pleasure,  
Whose Happiness we all are bound to pray for;  
And may my Sister's Crown sit lighter on  
Her Brow, than does the Honour upon mine:  
Something of boding whispers to my Soul,  
And tells me, Oh! this Marriage will be fatal—  
Methinks I see a Sword tied to a Thread,  
Small as a Hair, hang o'er our Pageant Greatness:  
Believe me, Friend; Thrones are severest touchstones;  
And, like the Emblem of their Guard, the lion,  
All but of Royal-Blood they will destroy.  North. 
My Lord, this is severe to all that love you;  
And you reflect unkindly on your Fortunes.  Roch. 
Fortune! why did she lay her load on her?  
A load, I say, to quiet Minds— she should  
Have cast it upon one that was ambitious:  
My Lord, it had been kindly done of Fortune,  
T' have seen my Sister wedded to her Vows,  
Your Peircy's Wife; and not at one time made her  
Both Cruel to the Queen, and False to him.  North. 
You know, my Lord, we all are Witnesses  
With what remorse she took the Regal burden,  
That fate upon her like a heavy Armour  
On a Child's back; she staggered with the Weight.  Roch. 
Oh! may it not be fatal to us, heaven!  
For at the very time she gave her Hand  
To th' eager King to fastened with a Pledge,  
The Ring fell off, and could no more be found.  North. 
Mere Chance, my Lord.  Roch. 
And then immediately.  
When the glad Ceremonies were performed,  
The amorous King bending to kiss her Hand,  
A shower of Pearls broke passage from her Eyes,  
And all-bedewed his Head with ominous Tears.  North. 
The common use of every bashful Bride.  Roch. 
What will she do when she shall understand  
Our foul Designs, and Peircy's Innocence;  
His Letters to her that you intercepted,  
And counterfeited others to deceive her,  
To make her once believe that he was married?  
But what a mortal Grief will seize your Son,  
When he shall find his Mistress was betrayed;  
And forced to marry one she cannot love?  North. 
To prevent that: Soon as he's come to Court,  
Just but to see she's married, and no more,  
(Not giving him the time for second thoughts)  
I'll make a Match between him and the Heiress  
Of Shrewsbury.  Roch. 
A very gallant Lady.  
As Virtuous, Beautiful, and Richer far  
Than all our Generation of that Sex.  North. 
You wrong yourself to slatter me. Her Father  
Brings her this day on purpose from the Country:  
But the Queen thinks already they are married.  Roch. 
And are you sure to gain your son's consent,  
To what he has been still so obstinate?  North. 
Rage and Despair, when he shall find her false,  
Will make him rashly change to any state;  
And, thinking to be miserable, will plunge  
Into the dreadful Sea of Matrimony,  
And make himself, though much against his Will,  
The happiest man that ever was on Earth.  Enter Cardinal Woolsey musing. 
Behold the proud imperious Cardinal,  
With such a furious Tempest on his Brow,  
As if the World's four Winds were penned within  
His blustering carcase. He has heard the News,  
And comes to argue with his Friend the Devil,  
The Reason of his No-Intelligence  Roch. 
The Popedom now, and all the Wealth in Rome,  
Can scarcely recompense him for the fright  
This News has put him in— See how he staggers,  
Giddy with th' height his Pride has raised him to.  
'Tis then most fatal to unhappy England  
When such Church Blazing Stars appear in it.  [Ex. North. and Roch. Card. 
Married in private, and declared his Queen!  
Katherine divorced, and Anna Bullen married!  
Now, by our Holy Father's Triple Crown  
It must not, cannot, nay, it shall not be.  
Where was your aid, that time, you slothful Saints,  
You whom false Zeal created in more numbers  
Than e'er the Heathen made and worshipped Gods?  
A Lutheran Queen upon the Throne of England!  
She to lie in the Bosom of our Prince!  
A Buxom King, that for a wanton Smile  
Will pawn his Faith, and turn an heretic!  Enter the Lady Elizabeth Blunt. Blunt. 
Awake thou wretched dreaming Priest, look up:  
Can you behold your proud Saint Peter shake?  
The mighty Pillar of that spreading Church  
That holds the great Religion of the World  
To stagger, and bestow no help, no aid  
From mighty Woolsey's Shoulders to support it?  
Is this the great King Cardinal, who late  
From smallest Root began to shade the Land,  
And stood the tallest Cedar of the Church?  
Shame to thy priesthood, and thy Scarlet Robe,  
Even thou to whom the liberal See of Rome  
Has given all, next giving of herself:  
Unworthy Servant of so kind a Mistress.  Card. 
What does the Fairest mean!  Blunt. 
Ha! must I teach thee?  
Art thou the Thing that from the Chaff of Mankind,  
From the base scurrilous Rubbish of the World,  
First found thyself a way to thrive by Wit?  
Then edging it with sharpest villainies,  
Mowed thee a passage to thy Prince's Breast,  
And cut down all the Virtuous from his sight,  
Who chose thee for the Champion of his Vices;  
Whilst thou with labour let lose all their sluices,  
And poured them like a Torrent in his Bosom?  
This you did once confess to me, and more,  
When you declared how hot you were in love—  
Bullen is Queen, the Crown you promised me  
Now wreaths her Head— Are these the hopes you gave me,  
When once you said my Son should be a King?  
The News not stirs your Wonder! Hell and Furies!  Card. 
What would you I should do to serve you?  Blunt. 
Forgive me, tender Woolsey, pious Cardinal!  
Shall I then teach your Scarlet Priesthood Blood?  
I would have done as Alexander did,  
The Sixth, and the most merciful so named;  
Are there no Consecrated Weapons left?  
Or have you lost the Power to make 'em so?  
Give me Saint Dagger or Saint Poison strait,  
And I will do that Meritorious Act:  
Dispatch her straight to Hell, from whence she fetched  
Those Looks that robbed me of the King and Crown.  Card. 
Have patience, Madam.  Blunt. 
Preach it to the damned,  
To those that feel the Rack or Inquisition—  
Curse on your Gown Apologies: but more  
Be cursed the time of Boulogne's fatal Birth,  
Wrinkles like Age anticipate her Youth;  
Mildews and Blasts devour her wanton Beauties,  
Smallpox and Leprosies rough-cast her o'er;  
Dig up her Charms and Features by the Roots,  
And bury 'em in Pits as deep as Graves.  Card. 
Study some Act that may revenge this Fury,  
This hurts no more than Barks of Coward Curs;  
She lives, and is as beautiful as ever:  
Be ruled by me, who like a dreadful Piece,  
Am sure to kill, where'er I take my aim,  
Before they hear the Noise or see the Flame.  Blunt. 
Oh tell me how to quench this Fire within!  
That burns me up with thoughtful Injury.  Card. 
An easy way I'll chalk to your Revenge,  
A Road not steep, nor dangerous, but smooth;  
So unsuspected, and so fatal too,  
That the Queen's Fancy and deluded Genius,  
Shall tempt her in the same dissembled Path,  
Taking her by the other hand with us,  
And lead her in the Pit prepared for her.  Blunt. 
Go on my Woolsey, charming as the young,  
And more melodious than a choir of Angels.  Card. 
This than it is: The King you knows inconstant,  
As jealous and as tasty as old Age,  
So covetous of the pleasure he possesses,  
That he who does but look upon't must die,  
With her, whose innocent Charms did force him to't.  Blunt. 
But how shall we be backed with a pretence?  Card. 
'Tis easy to give fire to that fond Breast  
That is already charged with jealous Sulphur:  
The Queen loves Piercy, that may be a means;  
And Spies may be laid every where to watch  
Their Private Meetings, and their very looks,  
And then acquaint the hot-brained King with it:  
So straight their joyful Destinies are sealed.  Blunt. 
Most admirable!  Card. 
If we fail in this,  
Some cried-up Beauty, ne'er yet seen at Court,  
Must be found out, to put her in his way,  
And take the Amorous King: 'Twill certain do;  
For than no greedy Falcon, when he sees the Lure,  
Will fly down swifter to be catched and hooded,  
Than he into the Fetters of her Charms.  Blunt. 
O come to my Embrace, thou Godlike Priest!  
Balm to my wounded and my tortured Bosom.  Card. 
Go straight, and haste about the Intelligence.  Blunt. 
I will. Good Fortune has been so propitious,  
To make young Rochfort, Anna Boulogne's Brother,  
Enamoured of my Beauty; him I'll mould,  
Sound every thought of his unguarded Soul,  
Linking him close in amorous Intrigues,  
Till I have discovered from him our Design  
Of Peircy's Love, and of his Sisters Conduct.  Card. 
An Accident, the luckiest that could happen!  
Behold the Queen in her first State and Greatness,—  
But yet she bears it with no welcome mien:  
Peircy hangs heavy on her heart, and in her Eyes;  
It works, it manages as we would have it:  
And in her heedless Innocence she sails,  
Shunning no Rocks, no quicksands, nor no Danger,  
But runs into her ruin faster than  
We wish.  Blunt. 
Her Crown is hideous to my sight,  
Its Jewels fatal as the Eyes of Basilisks:  
O Cardinal! This Rival-Queen and I  
Should never meet but in the Scales of Death,  
That weigh all Mortals even and alike.  Queen Anne appears seated upon a Throne. Northumberland, Rochfort, Lords, Ladies, Attendants and Guards about her. Omnes. 
Long live King Henry, and Queen arm of England.  North. 
Immortal live Great Queen of England, France,  
And Ireland, and for ever rule the Heart  
Of Conquering Henry, as he Reigns o'er us  
And all his faithful Subjects—  
I speak it as the Wishes and the Voice  
Of your most Loyal Kingdoms; to confirm it,  
Sound strait your loudest Instruments of Joy,  
And shout as I do, all that love their Queen.  Queen riseth from her Throne, [Shouts and Trumpets within. Queen. 
These Sounds might lift another to the heavens!  
But what is music to the Ear that's deaf;  
Or Crowns and sceptres to a dying Wretch?  
Despair turns all alike that comes to me,  
Blind to the Pomp that glads all Eyes but mine,  
Deaf to its Charms, and dead to all its Glories.  [Trumpets and Shouts again. 
Cease you more empty Flatterers than Winds;  
Be silent as the Sorrows in my Breast:  
If you will give me ease, forbear such Flatteries:  
For I receive 'em with as little joy,  
As even those silly Wretches utter them,  
Having no other Reason but vile Custom.  
My Noble Lords!  
I know you all are Loyal to the King,  
And for his sake you are thus kind to me;  
But for the Rabble, who can read that Sphinx?  
Their very Breath that now Proclaims, with joy,  
Sad Katherine to be no longer Queen,  
And my unwelcome Coronation,  
Would the same moment, should my Stars permit,  
Shout louder at the Sentence of my Death.  Card. 
Most glorious and beloved of England's Queens!  
O lay not on our Nation such a Curse,  
As a suspicion of its Faith to you.  
I dare be bold, and say it, as a Priest,  
As confessor to all my Country's gild,  
There's none, how mean soever with myself,  
But loves you more than life, or darling Riches,  
Wishing to feel severest Penance here,  
And Hell hereafter, rather than behold  
You less a Queen, or less adored than now.  Queen. 
They have my thanks, next kind good natured Woolsey,  
Who cannot but be real, 'cause he says it.  Card. 
On that your Majesty would think so ever,  
And that my proud endeavours, with success,  
First whispered in the Bosom of the King  
The secret Wonders of your Mind and Person,  
And made him soon discover all your Beauties,  
Those rare Perfections, that above your Sex  
Have merited his Passion and his Crown.  Queen. 
O Reverend, pious, best of Cardinals!  
Who too well knows  
By whose high hand I climbed this maliced Greatness,  
And wear this envied Crown.  Card. 
May heaven and Stars  
Pour their just hatred on—  Queen. 
Cease Execrations;  
For should they come to pass, as heaven forbidden,  
What would the miserable Nation do?  
Besides 'twere pity to the King and me,  
That we should lose so exquisite a Head,  
And such a Prelate should be damned so soon  Card. 
Ten thousand Saints, more than my Royal Master,  
Are Witnesses to th' truth of what I say.  Queen. 
As many Saints and Myriads of bright Angels  
Can witness of the blackness of thy Soul,  
That cankered first the Conscience of thy Master,  
Misleading him with hopes to purge a sin,  
To act the worst, even a Religious gild—  Card. 
The wise and just Omnipotence—  Queen. 
No more:  
Hell's not so full of Torments, as thy Soul  
Has Blasphemies to be rewarded in it—  
Give me some ease, just heaven! if there be any—  
My Lords! if there's no more for you to act  
To perfect or unmake this Ceremony,  
(Oh that it could be done!) retire a while,  
And leave me with my Women for some moment's—  
What am I then a Prisoner to be guarded?  
Has then a Throne cost me so dear a Price,  
As forfeit of my Liberty of Thinking?  
Do Princes barter for their Crowns their Freedoms?  
Good heaven! not think! nor pray if I have need—  
If I am Queen, why am I not obeyed?  Card. 
We'll all perform your majesty's Command.  [Ex. all but her Women. Queen. 
Am I got lose, lose from this worrying Scene  
Of dismal State, that always loads a Monarch,  
And racks him with dissembling Torturers?  
O wretched state of Princes! that want nothing  
But a Retreat from Business and from Crowds;  
Yet wanting that, want every thing that's happy,  
A Soul at ease— O sacred Solitude!  
How airy and delightful are thy Walks?  
No stinging Serpent, nor worse Insect Man,  
Disturb thy fragrant and enameled Paths;  
No Winter-Blasts, nor Autumn Winds molest  
Thy sacred grottoes, all around is Summer;  
Nothing brood's there but an Eternal Spring,  
Mild as all May, and Beautiful as Eden:  
Thou charitable Good! that from th' afflicted  
Unloads the heavy Burdens that oppress them,  
And plants Repose in every Breast in stead!  Enter a Lady. Lady. 
The Lady Diana Talbot begs admittance,  
To pay her Duty to your Majesty.  Queen. 
What sayest! Thou'st roused a Dragon in my Breast.  
Which I had thought for ever to have hushed:  
That Name sets every Pulse again at work  
Within me— Talbot! how art thou mistaken?  
She's Piercy's now; And Piercy all his hers.  Lady. 
Shall she be brought to your Presence?  Queen. 
Ay— No— Yes—  
Do any thing, so 'twill be sure to kill me:  
O Piercy! Piercy! would thou ne'er hadst been  
Unfaithful, or at least in being so,  
Hadst never taught me how to be revenged:  
But oh the dismal Pain is all my own,  
And like an Arrow from an o'rebent Bow,  
The hasty Dart turned back and hurt myself,  
Wounding that Breast where I lest meant my aim.  
How soft and tender were our mutual Vows,  
Which since another's Charms, like Lightning, blasted;  
Whilst Parents Threats and King's Authority,  
Rend me, like Thunder, from my fixed Resolves:  
The art married now, and all those amorous sighs,  
And passionate tears, with thousand ecstasies,  
Which we both learned and taught to one another,  
Like innocent Children in the School of love,  
Are now the Arts with which, false man! Thoust caught  
Another's fond believing heart, they are.  Enter Lady Diana Talbor. 
She comes, triumphant in her Eyes the joy  
That once like Tides overflowed my fruitful Breast.  
How proud she bears herself to see my pain!  
Whilst I look up to her, and sigh in vain!  
But I will hid it, and forgive me heaven; [Diana knelt.  
For 'tis the first time that I e'er dissembled—  
" Rise dear Diana, you have been a Stranger;  
Can nothing but a Queen drag you to Court?  
I own this Kindness to my Royalty,  
And not your Friendship—  Dian. 
Pardon, mighty Princess!  
I had been blessed for ever in your Presence,  
Charming in all Estates as well as now,  
Had I been Mistress of my Inclinations.  
But—  Queen. 
'Tis no matter, I'll allow your Reason,  
A Cause so indispensible and just,  
That 'twere a fault in me to blame such Virtue.  Dian. 
Indeed a Parents Will ought still to be  
Obeyed, next Duty to your Majesty.  Queen. 
And something yet more binding— Do not blush—  
Come I'll unriddle all, and spare your Tongue  
The trouble, and your bashful Cheeks the Fire.  Dian. 
What fire? what blushes do you tax me with?  
I feel not any but what Wonder raises,  
And blush because I cannot comprehend.  Queen. 
You are unkind, why make it you a secret?  
And but to me, when all the World reports it.  Dian. 
There is no secret; nothing I would hid  
From so adored a Friendship as my Queen's.  Queen. 
Why d' you suspect me then? [Aside] How loath she is  
To tell it me! As loath as I to hear it:  
Sure she suspects how fatal 'twill be to me;  
And the proud man has triumphed o'er my weakness!  
And told her all my passion with a scorn—  
'Tis so; whilst poor, regardless, innocent I  
Was all the while their Censure and their Pastime,  
The Fool, whose Story acted made 'em sport,  
And gave new edge to all their sated joys;  
Nay and perhaps drew Pity from their Pride?  
Pity! good Gods! must I endure their Pity?  
You will not own it then? But 'tis no matter. [To Diana.  
When saw you Piercy?  Dian. 
Piercy, Madam!  [She starts. Queen. 
Yes,  
Why did you start! has he a Name so horrid?  
But now you spoke as though there were not such  
A man i'th' World, and wondered at my meaning;  
But yet have all the Agonies to hear him named:  
Him you would hid, but cannot hid your Blushes.  Dian. 
Good heaven! by what strange Miracle have you  [aside. 
Revealed my secret Passion to the Queen?  
I never told my Grievance but to you,  
And that but silently in broken Sighs  
And stifled Tears—  Queen. 
'Tis plain she is disturbed!—  
What can this mean? Sure one of us is mad!  [Aside. 
Why all this Care to hid a Truth from me,  
That is the common talk of all the World?  
There's something in it more than yet I know,  
Which I must search into by other means.  
Madam, I thought when I had condescended  [To Diana. 
To open my Breast, and mingle Friendships with you,  
You would not then deny so small a Secret;  
And now when I am Queen and may command it—  
Therefore begun. Leave me without Reply.  
Henceforth I'll know the Persons better, out  
Of whom I mean to choose a Friend— Farewell—  
Piercy no doubt is not so fond nice,  
But brags, and tells the World of his proud Conquest.  Dian. 
Forgive me first; then give me leave to tell you—  
How 'twas disclosed to you, the Wonder stuns me;  
But Piercy knows not yet, nor shall from me,  
This secret which I thought scarce heaven found out.  Queen. 
Racks and worse Tortures! Frenzies of the mind!  
Hence; take her from my sight▪ she will distract me.  Dian. 
O hear me first: your Fury's not so dreadful,  
As is my pain to tell: yet I'll confess:  [knelt. 
A fatal Truth it is, Piercy I love—  
Now pity me, and quench my torturing Blushes:  
For heaven revealed it to you for no ill  Queen. 
I am amazed: still worse and worse, she stabs me,  
And they're Abuses all— Ingrateful Woman!  
Wouldst have me think thy lawful Passion such a wonder!  
Is it a Crime for thee to love thy Husband?  Dian. 
Ha! what is that you say? my Husband said you!  
Meant you to mock th'unfortunate Diana?  Queen. 
No. I will say't again; thy perjured Husband!  Dian. 
Ah! Royal Madam! Piercy is more blessed;  
We are not married, he is not my Husband.  Queen. 
Ha!  [Aside. Dian. 
That were to me too great a Happiness!  Queen. 
Should this be true, what will become of me?  [Aside. 
Diana rise: Are you not married, said you!  Dian. 
So far from that, his Person I've not seen  
In twelve long Months, this last long tedious year.  Queen. 
Art not his Wife!  Dian. 
By all your precious Hopes  
And mine, I'm not.  Queen. 
Is Piercy than not married!  
Support me Heaven! and with a wonder save me;  
Call all thy Virtue and thy Courage straight  [Aside. 
To help thee now, or thou art lost for ever.  
Am I then cheated! and is Piercy faithful!  
If I can bear all this, I challenge Atlas  
To live under a Load so vast as mine.  
Ah Piercy! Injured Piercy! Injured Bullen!  
But hold, there's yet a greater task behind,  
And that is to Dissemble well— Diana!  Dian. 
Madam—  Queen. 
Thou wonder'st at my Curiosity,  
As though I were concerned at this false Story.  
I'll tell thee why: It has been long reported,  
That you and Peircy were in private married.  Dian. 
Such a report came likewise to my hearing;  
But how 'twas raised, by whom, or why, I know not.  Queen. 
Too well the dreadful cause of it I know.  [Aside. 
This, when I heard, I took unkindly from you:  
I was your Friend, you ought no more to steal  
A Marriage from a Friend, than from a Father  
And when you aggravated, as I thought,  
By your unkind denial, it enraged me;  
For which I hope, Diana, you'll forgive me—  [Aside. 
Methinks I do it rarely—  Dian. 
Best of Queens!  
Thus on my Knees, I ought to beg that pardon:  
I only did offend, my Gracious Mistress.  Queen. 
Rise to my Arms— This Kiss now Seals thee mine  
For ever.  Diana. 
Oh most admirable Goodness!  Queen. 
This tenderness betrays me, melts my Soul!  [Aside. 
A fatal Engine that draws all my Griefs  
Up to my Eyes and Lips, just ready to unload  
And pour 'em in at once into her Breast,  
Whom I, of all the World, should hid 'em from.  
Oh for some Wild, some desert to complain in,  
Some vast and uninhabitable place;  
Or else some Precipice that butts the Ocean,  
The wide, and never to be fathomed Ocean,  
That I might tell the echoing Rocks my Woes,  
And count my Sorrows to the Winds and Seas,  
More pitiful, and more relenting far,  
Than false and cruel Mankind is to me.  Dian. 
You seem disturbed! Ah! what inhuman Grief  
Dares seize your Royal Breast?  Queen. 
Come, dear Diana;  
Go to my Closet with me; there, perhaps,  
Some rest may quell this melancholy Monster;  
And there it may not be amiss sometimes  
To talk of Peircy, will it?  Dian. 
Sacred Queen,  
'Twill not; and oh! I wish that the Discourse.  
Would sooth your Soul with as much Joy as mine.  Queen. 
These are the first of Miseries, the rest  
Come rolling on apace, and, Katherine, now  
Thou art revenged— Just heaven, whose is the Sin?  
Punish not me, I sought not to be Queen;  
But Henry's gild amidst my Pomp is weighed,  
And makes my Crown sit heavy on my Head,  
To banish from his Bed, the chastest Bride,  
That twenty years lay loving by his side!  
How can I give it, without Tears, a Name,  
When I reflect my Case may be the same?  
And I, perhaps, as Slaves are by the Priest,  
Thus gay and fine for Sacrifice am dressed.  
Ah! Katherine, do not envy me thy Throne,  
For thou art far more happy that has none.  [Exeunt. 
The End of the First Act.   

ACT II. SCENE I.  Enter Northumberland and Rochfort. Roch. 
THE News is strange you tell me of the King.  North. 
Most wonderful, nor can I guests the meaning,  
He came just now from Hunting as his use,  
Where at Sir Thomas Seymour's House he was  
Most splendidly and kindly entertained  
At a Repast.  Roch. 
Took he there any thing  
Amiss?  North. 
No: quite contrary, so good humoured,  
I never saw him in my life more pleasant:  
But now, instead of going to the Queen,  
With words that showed more discontent than rage,  
He ordered all about him to retire,  
And, which is still more strange, enquired for Woolsey,  
Woolsey, whom all men thought quite out of favour;  
Then shut himself within his bedchamber,  
And there remains; nor durst the boldest venture  
To follow him, and ask him what he ails—  
May not the Queen your Sister, think you, be  
The innocent Occasion?  Roch. 
That's impossible!  
For but last Night he came to her Apartment,  
With all the heat and love that could inspire  
A Bridegroom, scarcely of an Hour's making:  
With haste he ran, and where he should have sat  
He kneeled down by her as his Deity;  
Printing soft Kisses on her lovely Hand.  
And sighed as if he had been still a Woeing.  North. 
Right Harry still: for by this Flood of Passion  
The nearer he's to Ebb and Change.  Roch. 
See! the King.  North. 
You are Brother to his Wife, and may he bold,  
But I'll not venture.  [Ex. North. Enter King Harry. King. 
Who are you that durst press on my Retirement?  
Ha! Bullen! Get thee from my sight— begun—  [Ex. Roch. 
Who waits there? Why am I thus troubled?  
Let none but Woolsey dare to be admitted.  [To the Attendants. 
Who can withstand so vast a shock of Beauties,  [He sits down. 
So many Wonders in so bright a Form?  
When heaven designs to make a perfect Face,  
A Beauty for a Monarch to enjoy,  
'Tis feigned that the most skilful Spirits are all  
Employed, and just before their Eyes is placed  
Th' exactest, loveliest Angel for a Pattern;  
If it be true; this only must be she,  
And must be mine— Who's there? the Cardinal?  Enter Woolsey. Card. 
The humblest Vassal of his godlike Master.  King. 
Come hither, Sir— I sent for thee, my Woolsey!  
And dost▪ not wonder; when but yesterday  
I took from thee the Seal and Chancellour's Place?  
But 'tis no matter: Do not care, I say:  
I love you still in spite of all your Foes—  
You have malicious Enemies at Court;  
Besides the Queen, my Lord, is no good Friend  
Of yours.  Card. 
Wretched am I that have incurred  
My King's Displeasure, and my Queen's dire Hatred!  
But my Innocence when I am dead, perhaps  
May to my Royal Master, though too late  
Appear.  King. 
Talk not of Death, good Cardinal,  
For I have Business with thee first— By heaven!  
He that dares mutter Woolsey is a Traitor,  
Shall die for a worse Traitor as he is:  
Keep thy own still, the bishoprics of York  
And Winchester, and Cardinal, that is  
Above my Grant; and when I give thee leave,  
Go to thy diocese, and live to spite'em.  Card. 
Immortal wreaths, and Diadems of Saints,  
Crown you in heaven for this Royal Goodness.  
I am grown old, too weak to guard me from  
My Foes, but for your majesty's Protection.  King. 
O Woolsey! be to me but half so kind  
As I shall be to thee Seymour, my Father!  
The lovely Seymour, whom thou toldst me of,  
I did devour her Beauties from thy Lips,  
And fed my Ears with the delicious Feast;  
But since I've seen this Wonder of her Sex!  
The Charming'st Creature e'er adorned the World;  
And find her all as far above thy Praises,  
As heaven can be beyond Man's frail description.  Card. 
Have you then seen her, Sir?  King. 
O yes, my Woolsey!  
And having seen her, guess, I needs must be  
But wretched without her, or thy assistance.  Card. 
This goes as I expected. [Aside.  King. 
Help thy Prince!  
Why art so slow? Has Woolsey lost his Courage?  
That Wit that Emperors and Popes has swayed—  
So, let thy Brain begin to travel now;  
Bring forth thou more than King; thou more than Man;  
Thou hast a Mine within that subtle Breast,  
The Stone which dull Philosophy has toiled  
In vain for— Make me Master of thy indieses—  
Lend me thy Wit to purchase Seymour for me.  Card. 
You have the Means already in your hands,  
Power is the greatest Charmer of that Sex.  King. 
Command my Power, my Kingdoms to thy aid,  
Join to thy fox's Tail my lion's Skin;  
Take thou my sceptre, bind it to thy Cross,  
And to thy Mitre add my humble Crown;  
'Tis all my Woolsey's. Woolsey shall be King.  
I ask but only Seymour in Exchange.  Card. 
You bid too much: Send for her straight to Court;  
Make her a Marchioness, or else a Duchess;  
There's hardly now a Woman but will sell  
A foolish Honour that none sees, for that  
Which makes a Noise and splendour in the World.  King. 
How thou deceiv'st my eager Expectations!  
This I have done without such rare Advice:  
But oh she is inflexible to all!  
Deaf to the sounds of Vanity and Pomp!  
And more remorseless than a Saint or Hermite.  
Her Chastity cold as the Frozen Stream,  
And then as hard, and never to be thawed,  
As Crystal Rocks, or Adamantine Quarries:  
That oh I fear, had I but what I covet,  
The Crown from Boulogne's Head, to offer her,  
'Twould scarcely tempt her to thy Prince's Bed.  Card. 
Then, Sir, I doubt 'tis hardly in my Power  
To help you.  King. 
Ha! false and ungrateful Man!  
Is that then all the hope your Brain can give me?  Card. 
It is impossible, if she be Virtuous,  
That e'er she should be had by Force or Cunning.  
Therefore apply this Remedy a while,  
Have but a little Patience till 'tis Lawful.  King. 
Traitor and Poisoner of thy Master's Rest,  
Must I despair? Is that thy precious Council?  
Did I descend to ask Advice from Hell?  
Consult thy Wicked Oracle for this?  
To tell me what is Lawful?  Card. 
Understand me.  King. 
Give me some hopes, or, by thy damned Ambition,  
I'll crumble thee to dust; puff thee to nothing:  
And make thee less and more dejected far  
Than the base Fellow that begot thee, Priest.  Card. 
Hear me but—  King. 
Why didst thou infect my Breast,  
And with thy venomous Tongue deceive me, worse  
Than the old Serpent that in Paradise  
Betrayed the first of Mankind with a Bait?  
So thou, lurking and hid amidst the Charms  
Of Seymour's rare and unsuspected Beauties,  
Sungst me her Praises in such tempting Words,  
That I with ravished Ears swallowed the sound,  
And never saw the Sting I sucked in after.  Card. 
You will not give me leave t' explain myself,  
Nor yet to give you Remedy.  King. 
Tell me;  
For Remedy I'll have from heaven or Hell,  
Or I will take thy Blood, thy scorpion's Blood,  
And lay it to my Grief till I have ease.  Card. 
Your Fury will not let you understand me:  
When I advised to stay till it was Lawful,  
At the same time I meant to let you know  
'Twas not a thing so hard to bring to pass.  King. 
Ha! said again like Woolsey! tell me straight,  
My Soul waits at the Portal of thy Breast,  
To ravish from thy Lips the welcome News,  
ere they have minted into Words thy Thoughts—  
Quick, what can lawfully make Seymour mine?  Card. 
Make her your Queen.  King. 
Make her my Queen!  Card. 
Yes, Sir.  King. 
Sure I but dream; what dost thou mean? or how?  Card. 
Invest her Head with Anna Boulogne's Crown.  King. 
Sure thou art mad, and would make me so too—  
What, whilst she lives?  Card. 
Ay, whilst she lives I said:  
Is that so strange a thing that ne'er was done?  
Divorce her.  King. 
Ha!  Card. 
What is't that makes you start?  
Divorce her, and take Seymour to your Bed.  King. 
How! take good heed what 'tis thou pullest upon  
Thyself— Divorce my lawful virtuous Wife  
Without a Cause!  Card. 
There is a Cause.  King. 
What is't?  Card. 
Pretend Remorse of Conscience.  King. 
Gods!  Card. 
ne'er wonder:  
Say you are troubled and disturbed within.  King. 
Eternal Villain! Lucifer the damned.  [Aside▪ 
Traitor, at what?  Card. 
At that which seized your Mind,  
When Katherine you divorced for Anna Bullen.  
Conscience! Conscience!  King. 
Horrid tormenting Fiend!  [Aside. 
Thou knowst she was my Brother's Wife, and Bullen  
On no such just pretence I can disclaim.  Card. 
No matter; on the like distrust of Conscience  
That made you do the one, you may the other.  
Give out that she's not lawfully your Wife,  
The first alive, and that you never had  
A Dispensation from his Holiness.  King. 
His Holiness! I'm blasted with the thoughts:  
Pernicious Traitor! How can this be done?  Card. 
Leave it to me; Consent you, 'tis enough:  
And I'll engage, on forfeit of my life,  
To get a Licence from our Holy Father  
To disannul this Marriage, and to take  
Into your lawful Bed the Beauteous Seymour.  King. 
But then I still remain unfreed from Katherine.  Card. 
The Church shall grant a Dispensation too  
For that.  King. 
What Horrour's this I hear! Can this be true?  
In all my wanton and luxurious Youth,  
Or in my blackest thoughts of Lust and Rage,  [Aside. 
I ne'er yet found one Wish amongst them all,  
Of such a deep Infernal hue. The horror  
Has kindled my whole Blood into a Flame,  
And made me blush a deeper Scarlet than  
This Villain's Robe. Disloyal wicked Monster!  
But I will strive to hid my just Resentments.  
Divorce my second Wife without a Cause!  [To him. 
Can it be done, what would the Nation say?  
What would the Action look like but a Hell;  
To warn succeeding Princes from the like,  
And blot me from the scroll of Pious Kings:  
Can it be lawful Woolsey, I would hearken.  Card. 
Then lawful it shall be in spite of Scruples:  
I see your Conscience is an Infant grown,  
A Child again, and wants to be instructed—  
Come, let me lead you by the hand, and point  
A way for you to walk on even ground;  
So safe, the nicest Conscience shall commend  
And choose it.  King. 
Now thou dost rejoice thy Prince.  Card. 
What if she be unfaithful to your Bed,  
And proved so?  King. 
Ha! there's Thunder in that word,  
The Bolt ran through, and shivered me to pieces.  
Disloyal to my Bed! Adulterous! Ha!  
Saidst thou not so? Yet hold, if this be true,  
There hangs a Shower of Cordial in my reach  
To cure this horrid Fit. Woolsey, beware  
How thou dost dally with my hopes and fears;  
Look to't, and see you wrong her not; for if  
Thou dost, by all the Plagues thy Soul deserves,  
All Hell shall be too little for thy carcase:  
New Hells shall be created, and more hot  
Than what's prepared for Traitors, parricides,  
For Ravishers of Mothers, justful Nuns,  
For Lucifer himself t'endure; nay more  
Than Villain, Pope, or Cardinal ever felt.  
Speak how thou knowst it. Quick.  Card. 
Alas! my Lord,  
I never meant it entered in my own  
Particular Knowledge: but it is Reported.  King. 
Reported, saidst thou! Is not that enough?  
Report! why she is damned, if she's but thought  
A Whore, much more reported to be so.  
'Tis not the act alone that wrongs thy King;  
Each Smile, each Glance, and every wanton Look,  
That's meant t'another, if I leave unpunished,  
Shall brand me with the ignominious Name  
Of wittol, which is worse— make me but sure  
That the least Breath has uttered such a sound,  
Or whispered to the air that she's Unchaste,  
By all the horrid Fiends that punish Lust,  
And by the black Concupiscence of Hell,  
I'll tumble her from the Throne into a Dungeon—  
Name me the Man that is suspected.  Card. 
Piercy.  King. 
Piercy!  Card. 
Yes, Sir: He is the Man she dotes on;  
'Tis he lies deeper in her Breast than ever;  
For him she sighs, and hoards up all her Wishes;  
Gives him her Person warm, inspired with Passion,  
Whilst for yourself she only treats you with  
The cold dead Body of departed Love.  King. 
Is Piercy then at Court?  Card. 
He is this Day  
Arrived.  King. 
Hough! Come without my leave sayest thou?  Card. 
He is, no doubt to consummate their joys,  
Their Signs and Tokens to compare, which they  
By Letters and Devices in their absence  
Have hourly plotted to deceive you, Sir;  
And put in practice when the time is ripe.  King. 
Hell and tormenting Furies— I believe thee.  Card. 
Nay in your Bed and in her Dreams she thinks on't;  
When Pleasures made you dull, it whetted her—  King. 
Hold, I can hear no more. By all my Wrongs  
And cheated Hopes, thou bring'st to my Remembrance,  
How all Complaisances to me were dragged  
And forced from her, like Mirth from one in Torture!  
Sometimes I found her Face all drowned in Tears,  
With Gales of Sighs just blowing off those Storms,  
In fear away: Sometimes again in Blushes,  
As if then all the wanton Heat of love  
Were darting through her Eyes to meet my Flame;  
But when with eager haste I catched her in  
These Arms and pressed her Lips, alack I found  
Instead of Summer there no Ice so cold;  
Instead of breath that would revive the dead,  
No Air so i'll, nor Winter Blast so keen.  Card. 
Thus all her actions still will be to you:  
The Roses of her Bloom she keeps for him,  
The Thorns for you— Had you been Piercy then!  King. 
Let me embrace the saviour of his Prince,  
The dear Preserver of my Life and Honour!  
What shall I do for thee, my Friend?  Re-enter Rochfort. Card. 
Here's Rochfort!  
Pray smooth your Brow, and hid your Discontent:  
And now you're going to the Queen smile on her.  
Mean while she'll stumble, like a hasty Child,  
And act more plain and open to your Justice;  
And when you find her tripping, on the sudden  
Strike like the Hand of heaven, a sure Revenge,  
And never let her rise again.  King. 
I will—  
My Lord, you may come near: Where is the Queen?  [To Roch. Roch. 
I left her in the Drawing-Room.  King. 
Ah Woolsey!  
What Angel e'er so bright as Woman was,  
Had not the first scorned her Creator's Laws;  
For nearest his own likeness they were made,  
Till they by falseness did their Sex degrade.  [Exeunt K. & Card. [Manet Rochfort. Roch. 
What means this sudden alteration!  Enter Piercy. 
Is not that Piercy? Oh! too true he comes!  
Not like a joyful bridegroom, as was told thee,  
Poor cheated Sister! but like one, alas!  
That knows already, the base wrongs our Friends  
Have heaped upon him! where shall I avoid him?  
Ah! why must I of all the Plot be cursed?  
To look upon a Face so full of horror;  
That like a Hell, at once upbraids my gild,  
And lashes me with the Remembrance?  Pier. 
Methinks I walk like one that's in a Dream,  
A horrid Dream, and fain would be awake!  
These Rooms of State look not as they were wont,  
When Anna Bullen oft has run to meet me;  
But seem like Fairy-Land, a Wilderness.  
My Friends, like Beasts that never yet saw Man,  
Start at my sight; and eat me worse than Fire.  
What mean you Heavens! what mean those boding Visions!  
O that some Friend, some Friend indeed would meet me!  
And wake me out of it— Behold; 'tis granted—  
Is not that Rochfort there? my Dearest Brother!—  Roch. 
My Lord, my Piercy!  Pier. 
Come thou to my arms.—  
Methinks th' art not concerned to see thy Friend:  
When I embrace thee, 'tis a pain I find,  
Thy Friendship is as cold as Winter Blasts,  
Or as i'll Age is to a tender Virgin!  
What ails my Friend? say quickly.  Roch. 
Nothing ails me.  Pier. 
Nothing! why look'st thou then so full of horror?  
Thy down cast Eyes call to my sad remembrance,  
How passing by you Gallery of Pictures,  
That happy Gallery that was once the Scene  
Of many a joyful meeting with thy Sister!  
Looking with wonder on those famous Persons,  
Whom the rare Painter had with so much Art  
Described, to make Posterity amends,  
For their bright Forms now mouldered in their Urns;  
With their Immortal Shapes of Beauty here;  
There as we used to walk, none e'er so kind,  
With loving Arms and tender Wishes joined,  
A glad remembrance in their Looks we spied,  
Of what their Bodies had on Earth enjoyed;  
With steadfast Eyes they watched us all the while,  
And when we smiled, they would be sure to smile.  
Or if we chanced to weep and sigh our woe,  
They seemed to pity us, and do so too:  
Such sympathy they drew from all our Fears,  
Our very Griefs, and every Look was theirs.  Roch. 
The overflowing of your lovesick Fancy.  Pier. 
But mark me now, my Rochfort; mind the sad  
Catastrophe. They looked not now like Friends  
Of Comfort, but like boding sibyls rather;  
Their Smiles converted all to darting Frowns,  
Whilst with their seeming Voice and Hands, methought,  
They chid and beckoned me to shun the place,  
As if they did intent to say aloud,  
Ah Piercy! 'tis not now as heretofore,  
Piercy begun, for thou shalt happy be no more.  Roch. 
Ah, my Lord!  Pier. 
Ha! what sayest thou? 'tis enough,  
There hangs a dreadful Tale upon thy Brow,  
And there's some horrid meaning in that word—  
Let thy dire Looks speak all the rest, I prithee;  
The hast pierced quite through me like an Ague-Fit,  
Stopped every circling passage of my Blood,  
And made me sweat big drops as cold as Ice—  
Say quick! How fares thy Sister? is she well?  
My Love! my Wife! Did I not call her Wife?  
Speak, Is she living? Is she dead? If so,  
And thou darest utter it! plant thy dread Voice  
Just like a Cannon to thy Piercy's Breast,  
And shiver me to pieces.  Roch. 
By these words  
I find he knows not of my Sister's Marriage!  [Aside. 
Still worse and worse!— Alas! my Lord, she lives!  [too Pier. Pier. 
Lives! oh the joy! But is she aught than well?  
Tell it with speed! why didst thou say, alas?  Roch. 
Well she is too.  Pier. 
Then blessed be that Voice;  
But why thou speakest it with such cold reserve,  
I cannot guests. Oh tell it out with joy!  
Tell it aloud with shouting to the Spheres,  
That they may echo with glad Harmony:  
Thy Sister lives: my Bullen is in health.  Roch. 
She is in health: but—  Pier. 
Ha! but what? speak out:  
Why dost thou torture me with dire suspense?  
If there be any thing can now be called Misfortune,  
When thy dear Sister is in health, out with it;  
Let it be worse than Thunder I can bear it.  Roch. 
Alas! kind Piercy force not me to tell you,  
Too soon you'll hear the News from one perhaps  
That can relate it, Rocky as he is,  
Without a Sigh or Tear in pity of you.  Pier. 
You heavenly Pow is! What does my Rochfort mean▪  
Methinks the joyful Tidings in my Breast,  
That she's in health, does chide me for my Fears;  
But then again a fatal heaviness  
Straight intercepts this dawn of Comfort there,  
And like a Cloud hides all those newborn Beams  
Of Hope, and bids me dread I know not what.  
I am in Hell, in Torments, worse, in Doubt—  
Is there no balsam that can cure this Sting?  
No Oedipus that can unfold this Riddle?  
I prithee, gentle Rochfort, do not rack me:  
Take off this heavy Weight that sinks thy Brother.  
Come, slatter me, if thou'rt afraid to tell  
The Truth, and say that all these kill words  
Were not in Earnest.  Enter Northumberland. Roch. 
See, your Father's here.  Pier. 
He will take pity, and release me sure.  North. 
Harry, thou art most welcome to thy Father;  
Welcome to all, and welcome to the King.  
Rejoice, my Son, and deck thy Face with Smiles:  
There's Love and Fortune coming towards thee.  Pier. 
Pardon me, best of Fathers! spare my Answer: [knelt.  
Oh tell me first what News is from my Love?  
How does my Mistress fare? and what's become  
Of Beauteous Anna Bullen? quickly, Sir.  North. 
Why, what's become of her? She's very well.  
What should become of her? She's married, Son.  Pier. 
Married!  North. 
Married! ay married, that she is!  
A Queen she's too, a joyful Queen, I tell thee.  Pier. 
Married! and to the King! by all my hopes▪  
By all our chaste, eternal Vows of Love  
It cannot be, although my Father says it;  
You, whom I'll credit sooner than an Angel.  
Married! my Anna Bullen false, and married!  
Persuade me that the Sun has lost its Virtue,  
The Earth, the teeming Earth, forgot to bear,  
That Nature shall be Nature now no more;  
That all the Elements shall vanish straight,  
Turn to Confusion, into Chaos shrink,  
And you, and I, and all the living World,  
Are what we were before we were begot;  
All this must be, when Anna Boulogne's false.  North. 
I tell thee, rash and disobedient Boy,  
Married she is without such Miracles.  Pier. 
Ah, dearest Father, on my Knees I beg you,  
Repeat that horrid, dismal word no more;  
To be obedient, and at once to hear  
My Mistress wronged, is not in Piercy's power.  
Here, crush this Insect, pound me into Dust,  
I'm at your Foot! oh lay it on my Neck,  
And punish me with death, ten thousand deaths;  
For whilst I live I must be guilty still,  
And near can think that Anna Boulogne's false:  
O Sir, be merciful and just at once,  
And say you did it but to try your Piercy.  North. 
Rise, and repent, and do not tempt my Anger,  
Which thou shouldst feel, but that I pity thee,  
And think thy Folly Punishment enough.  Pier. 
See, Sir, her Brother's more concerned than I  
To hear such words. Come, tell 'em, dearest Rochfort,  
Proclaim her Virtue loud as Cherubins,  
Tell 'em, these Rocks, they may in time relent,  
And hear the sad Complaints of injured Honour:  
Is she not chaste! chaste as the Virgin light,  
And constant as the Turtle to its Mate,  
Her Person sacred still to all Mankind,  
And Beauties less corrupted, less defiled,  
Than is the lovely blue that fragrant hangs  
On Autumn Fruit, or Morning Dew on Roses.  North. 
Tell him, my Lord.  Pier. 
Oh hear the Charming sound;  
Tell 'em, and undeceive 'em, Friend; tell 'em  
How thou wert by, when first we plighted Troths,  
And swore Eternal Faith, Eternal Love,  
By every Saint, and every Star that shone,  
Who then looked down as joyful Witnesses,  
And darted forth in all their bright Array,  
To see our Loves that shined more bright than they.  Gent. 
My Lord, the King and Queen are passing by.  North. 
Look you, romantic Sir, behold your Mistress,  
Whose Bride she is.  [King and Queen, Lords and Ladies pass over the Stage, Northumberland follows the King. Pier. 
By the Immortal Powers that gave me life,  
And Eyes and Senses to believe, 'tis she—  
It is the King, and Anna Bullen crowned!  
Why Father, Rochfort, Friends, is it not so?  
And did she not like haughty Juno walk?  
Who, as she held the Thunderer by the hand,  
Looked down with scorn on the low World, from whence  
She came; so did she cast a loathing Eye  
Upon the place where humble Piercy stands—  
Now you are mute, dumb as those Conjurations  
You hired just now from Hell to be my ruin;  
Ha! is't not so? Confess that it is so,  
And I am blessed; own it, and make poor Piercy happy.  Roch. 
Alas! my Lord; afflict your mind no more,  
'Tis torment to your Friend to see you thus.  Pier. 
Friend, sayest thou? I disclaim that Name in all,  
In Father, Brother, Sister, and Companion;  
Nature herself abhors it, like the Plague,  
And banishes that Guest from all her Creatures—  
False Brother to the falsest Woman living!  
Was it for this that I was sent from Court?  
Was it for this the subtlest of her Sex  
Sent me a Letter with ten thousand Charms,  
To let me know that I should write, and should  
Be written to no more till my return?  
T' avoid suspicion, as she said; but 'twas  
To flatter me that I should not mistrust her.  Roch. 
By heaven, and all that's true, she's not to blame.  Pier. 
Here, Rochfort, rip, and rear her from my heart,  
Fast rooted as she is: The Poison swells,  
O lance it with thy Sword, and give me ease:  
She's Hell! she's worse! she's Madness to the Brain;  
I am possessed, and carry an Host of Devils:  
For he that wears a perjured Woman here,  
Has in his Breast ten thousand Fiends to scourge him.  Re-enter Northumberland. North. 
Come, my best Son, the King Salutes thee, Piercy;  
Come, see the Bride he has prepared for thee,  
And think no more of Anna Bullen now.  Pier. 
Ha! bring me to her straight! Is she a Woman?  
A bright dissembling and protesting Woman?  
Smooth as the smiling pitiless Ocean is by fits;  
But then her Heart as Rocky, deep, and fathomless:  
Has she a Face as tempting as the fair  
Deceitful Fruit of Sodom, but when tasted,  
Is rottenness and horror to the Core?  
Is she so kind, that nothing can be kinder?  
Nay were she Anna Bullen all without,  
And Bullen all within, I'd marry her  
To be revenged!  North. 
Thou dost rejoice thy Father:  
She is as good and beautiful as Angels,  
And has ten thousand Pounds a year; which added  
To thy Estate, will make you far more happy  
Than Harry with his Crown, or Anna Bullen.  Pier. 
Come, bring me to her: when shall we be married?  North. 
When my Son pleases: If thou wilt, to Morrow.  Pier. 
To Morrow! Now: To Morrow is too late:  
What must I waste a Day, and lose a Smile!  
The King with Bullen revels all this while.  
Haste, thou slow Sun! when wilt thou bring the Morn?  
And when! oh when shall the long Day be worn!  
That these triumphant Arms may seize my Bride,  
And clasp her gently like a wanton Tide.  
In Floods of ecstasies I'll drown; and say,  
Thus Harry and his Queen live all the day;  
Thus he embraces her all o'er, and o'er;  
Whilst for each Kiss I'll reap a thousand more:  
And for each Pleasure they shall act that Night  
I'll pattern then, and double with delight:  
But for that rarest Bliss we blush to own,  
Spite and Revenge much more my Joys shall Crown.  [Exeunt. 
The End of the Second Act.   

ACT III. SCENE I.  Enter Cardinal and Blunt severally. Card. 
HAIL to the Sacred Queen of Wit and Beauty;  
Hail to the Empress of the World that should be.  Blunt. 
What News? What Song of Comfort brings my Woolsey?  
Methinks your Looks shine like the Sun of Joy,  
And Smiles, more glittering than your Robe, appear:  
Come, for I long to be partaker of it—  
Say, is it Great? Shall Bullen sink to Hell?  
Shall this proud Exhalation vanish straight?  
Or, shall she still be Queen t'affront my Woolsey?  Card. 
No: I'd first pawn both Body and Soul to Hell,  
For but a Dram of poison that would kill  
The heretic.  Blunt. 
Oh famous Cardinal!  
Rome's Sacred Champion, and the Saints of Rome!  
What can reward thee but the mitre here,  
And when thou'rt dead, a mighty Throne, as high  
As was great Lucifer's before his fall?  Card. 
Have I not lived more splendid than the King?  
More awed and famous than was Harry still?  
Have I not scattered with a Liberal Hand,  
And sowed more Seed to Charity, than all  
The Kingdom else? Built such vast Palaces,  
As neither Italy nor Rome can pattern?  
Which England's monarches have been proud to dwell in.  Blunt. 
And but for thee, the Nation had been scorned.  Card. 
Who framed such sumptuous Embassies, as I,  
With such a Glorious Train of Servants decked,  
As Germany and France both wondered at,  
And thought that all the Nation followed me;  
Whilst Tudor here, as a less King than I,  
Was served, but with the glean of my Pomp?  Blunt. 
'Twas Woolsey, our Great Master's greater Servant,  
who, as he road to meet the Emperor,  
Ere he approached, first checked his pampered Steed,  
And stood at distance to receive that Monarch;  
Whilst Maximilian, as became him best,  
First did unlight, and first embraced my Woolsey.  Card. 
And have not I ruled Harry and the Nation  
Shall then this strong Foundation of my Greatness  
Be undermined by such a Wretch as Bullen!  
By the weak practice of a spleenful Woman!  
A thing, that I have made; a Poppet-Queen,  
Dressed up by me, to Act her Scene of Greatness,  
And all her Motions guided by this Hand!  Blunt. 
Shall she then Mount the Fame to ruin Woolsey?  Card. 
No; by myself, that moment she attempts it,  
She pulls a dreadful Tower upon her Head;  
When I begin to totter, if I must,  
Like a huge Oak, that's leaning o'er a Wall,  
I'll take my Aim, and crush her with my fall—  
Piercy's arrived, there's Aid for your Revenge.  Blunt. 
I heard so, and perceived it by the Queen.  Card. 
By that she has discovered the deceit,  
And finds him Innocent, now 'tis too late;  
This makes her careless, to her own undoing;  
For when the Amorous King comes, loaded with  
Big hopes, and thinks to take his fill of Joys,  
Straight, like the sensitive, nice Plant that shrinks,  
And on a sudden gathers up its Leaves,  
When 'tis but touched, she will contract her Charms,  
And shut 'em from him in her sullen Bosom,  
As cold as Winter to his warm Embraces:  
This, when the vexed and passionate King perceives,  
He'll hate, and cast her from him in a Rage.  Blunt. 
See! yonder's Rochfort coming towards us,  
Big with glad Looks, I hope, to be delivered  
Of something that will forward our Design.  Card. 
I will retire, and leave him to your Care,  
To manage him with all the Art of Woman;  
And Hell, if Heaven wont, inspire your Wit  
And Malice.  Ex. Card. Enter Rochfort. Roch. 
Brightest of thy dazzling Sex,  
That wears the Charms of all the World about thee;  
How have I been this long, long hour in pain,  
In Torments and in Darkness all the while!  
Sun of my Joy, to waste the tedious Day,  
And Star to gaze the live-long-night away.  Blunt. 
O, you are grown a Courtier now indeed,  
My Lord; but 'tis no wonder now, you are  
Exalted, and are Brother to the Queen:  
'Tis hard for one to gain a look from you,  
Without the purchase of— I will not tell you—  Roch. 
Ha! Brother to the Queen! to Jupiter:  
And if my ravished Sense deceives me not,  
I will not change my State to shine in Heaven!  
To be the darling Brother of the Sun,  
Or one of Leda's Twins that deck the Sky:  
No, Castor I defy thee.  Blunt. 
Hold, my Lord;  
I will not chide you, though you have deserved it:  
For all those Raptures are but starts in Love,  
And seldom hold out to the Races end;  
Or else like Straw that gives a sudden blaze,  
And soon is out.  Roch. 
Oh say not so, my Goddess!  
The Negro, nearest Neighbour to the Sun,  
That lives under the torrid burning Line,  
Feels not the warmth that does possess my Breast.  
And, oh forgive the vast Comparison,  
Hell's flame is not so vehement or lasting.  Blunt. 
Enough, my Lord: I'll put you to your Trial:  
Prepare, and see how well you can obey;  
But that you may not strive without all hope,  
Like Slaves condemned for ever to the galleys;  
Here is my Hand, an Earnest of my Promise,  
That as I find you Faithful, I'll Reward you.  Roch. 
Your Hand! where am I! tell me, God of Love!  Blunt. 
But mark me: Hear, as from a Prophet, this:  
Be sure you merit well this first of Favours,  
And keep the Oath you vow upon this Hand,  
Else I'll denounce a worse than Hell shall follow  
Your Sacrilegious Crime.  Roch. 
Lo, here I swear—  
But tell me, heaven! what signifies an Oath!  
When 'tis impossible I should be false?  
I swear upon this Altar, breathing Incense!  
Eternal Love! Eternal Constancy—  
Divinest, softest— Sweetest—  [Kisses her Hand. Blunt. 
Go my Lord.  
And now you have it, brag to my undoing;  
For never any but your King can boast  
The like.  Roch. 
And he, th' unworthiest of Mankind,  
Who having such a Jewel in his Breast,  
The Crown not half so Sacred, were it mine,  
To sell it for a false and glittering Trifle:  
So silly Indians barter Gold and Pearls  
For Baubles.  Blunt. 
What your Sister, treacherous Man!  
You do not mean it; nor can I endure  
To hear her so degraded; if 'twere real:  
She has Goodness, and has Beauties more than I,  
And merits what she does possess, a Crown:  
And much the more, because she sought not for it;  
Which is the cause, I fear, that she's unhappy—  
You visit her, not only as a Brother,  
But as a Friend, and Partner of her Councils;  
You love like Twins, like Lovers, or indeed  
As a fond Brother, and kind Sister should.  
How bears she this unwelcome State? or rather,  
How does she brook the Wrong that's done to Piercy?  Roch. 
All her Reflections on it straight will vanish;  
A King and Crown are Charms invincible;  
No Storms, nor Discontents can long abide,  
Where Love and Empire plead: but soon will fly,  
Scattered like Mists before the Sun of Power.  Blunt. 
You speak indifferently, my Lord, and like  
Mistrust of her you Love: I long to hear  
The more what you would fain disguise from me—  
Have you so soon forgot the Oath you took?  
Or is't so lately, that you think 'tis scarce  
Reached down to Hell, to claim you perjured there?  
Or think you that I e'er can hate the Sister,  
When with a blush I own, I love the Brother?  
False and ungrateful Man! farewell.  Roch. 
O stay!  
Rip open my Bosom to my naked Heart,  
And read whatever you think is written there.  
Had I no Tongue to speak, I'd suffer that,  
Rather than once deny you any thing.  Blunt. 
He softens, turns, and changes, as I'd have him; [Aside.  
His waxed Soul gins to melt apace:  
He is my Slave, my chained and galley Slave:  
Oh that I had but Harry so to torture!  
But I'll Revenge myself on this soft Fool,  
On Bullen, and on all their Race at once  
That were the Cursed cause of my undoing.  
You find my Passion and good Nature quickly, [To Roch.  
That makes you use me thus.  Roch. 
Ten thousand Pardons—  Blunt. 
No more; I can forgive, if you deserve it;  
I charge you, as a Sign of your Repentance,  
Go visit straight the Queen, and Piercy too;  
You hear he's come to Court; and what you learn  
From them, that aught concerns their former Loves,  
From time to time, acquaint me with the Story,  
And you shall lock the secret in my Breast,  
As safe, as in your own.  Roch. 
'Twere Blasphemy  
But to suspect it.  Blunt. 
I require this of you;  
Not that I doubt the Virtue of the Queen,  
But know, that, worse than Hell, I hate the King,  
(To which just hatred 'tis you own my Love)  
And wish your Sister, and all Humane kind,  
Would hate him too.  Roch. 
I'll instantly obey you.  Blunt. 
Come back, my Lord; this readiness has charmed me:  
And now I can't but give you some kind hopes—  
You may have leave to visit me hereafter.  
And talk of Love, perhaps I'll take it kindly.  Roch. 
Blessed Harmony! Happiest of Mankind, I.  Blunt. 
And you may write to me, and best by Proxy:  
For though the King not visits me, as he was wont,  
Yet he is Jealous—  
Let all your Amorous Letters be disguised,  
Under the borrowed Name of Brother still,  
Directed to me by the stile of Sister.  Roch. 
In all things I'll obey my lovely Goddess!  Blunt. 
These Papers once shall be of Consequence. [Aside.  
See, the Queen comes, her Soul in discontent, [To Roch.  
And longs to be disburdened. I will leave you—  
A fit occasion's offered, now she's on  
The Rack, to ease her by a fond Confession.  [Ex. Blunt. Enter Queen and ladies'. Queen. 
Where am I now?— My Brother! Is it you?  
I hear that Piercy's come to Court.  Roch. 
He is.  Queen. 
Where shall I hid my guilty Face from him?  
And shut me where he ne'er may see me more?  
For now I start at every humane Shape,  
And think I meet wronged Piercy in my way,  
Like one escaped for murder, in his Flight  
Shuns every Beast, and Trembles at the Wind,  
And thinks each Bush a Man to apprehend him.—  Enter Diana. 
I sent thee to the Queen, Diana, say,  
How fares she in her hopeless, lost Estate?  
What Answer bring'st thou, that is Death to hear?  
Come talk of Misery, and fill my Breast  
With Woe: I'll lay my Ears to the sad sound,  
And thence Extract it as the Bees do honey,  
Grief is the Food that the afflicted live by—  
Talk any thing; there's nought so dreadful as  
The thoughts of injured Piercy, in my Breast.  Dian. 
The Princess Dowager is dead.  Queen. 
What Princess?  
Art thou a temporising false one too?  
And hast so soon forgot she was thy Queen?  Dian. 
Queen Katherine's dead.  Queen. 
Alas! then is she dead!  
Then she has got the start of Anna Bullen—  
Came you too late to pay my Duty to her?  Dian. 
No: for she enjoyed her Senses to the last,  
And then not seemed to die, but fall asleep.  Queen. 
So bold is Innocence, it conquers Death,  
And after makes amends for all the wrongs  
Sustained in Life.  Dian. 
When I began to tell her,  
I came by your command, to make a tender  
Of your most humble Duty, and Condole  
Her majesty's Mifortune and Distemper;  
She checked me at that word, and as you have seen  
A clear Sky, with a travelling Cloud o'ertook,  
And quickly gone, so she put on a Frown,  
Which did not last, and answered with a Smile:  
Why did you say, your Majesty to me,  
She said, a Name I loath? Go, tell your Queen,  
Let her not fix on Greatness to be happy,  
But take a sad Example here by me:  
I, who was Daughter, Niece, and Sister too,  
To three great Emperors, and Wife, alas!  
To the most potent Prince in Christendom,  
Must die more wretched than the meanest Creature,  
In a strange Country, 'midst my Enemies,  
Not one of all my great Relations here  
To pity me, nor Friend to bury me:  
And then she wept, and turned her gentle Face  
The other way, and quickly after died.  Queen. 
Go on; Why dost thou cease this Melody?  
Thy Voice exceeds the mourning Philomel's;  
The dying Swan takes not that pleasure in  
Her note, as I in such Celestial music:  
Hast thou no more of it?  
Come play the Artist: show thou to my Fancy,  
Th' Infernal Paths that lead to Infinite Horror;  
Open all the Charnel Houses of the Dead,  
And fright away, if it be possible,  
The sad Remains of injured Piercy here.  Enter King. [Exeunt Diana and Rochfort. King. 
Yonder she is, in Tears amidst her Glories!  
You lavish Stars, what will content this Scorner?  
From a mean Spring I took this shining pibble,  
And placed her in my Heart, and in my Crown,  
The fairest and the best loved Jewel there:  
And sat her on my Throne to be adored:  
Yet she contemns all this, and would do more,  
The Heavens are all too narrow for her Soul!  
Gods, you must flatter and descend to her,  
Or she'll not stir one jot to you— She is  
So very proud.  Queen. 
My Lord.  King. 
Sat down again,  
I but disturb you; therefore I'll return;  
For sure they must be tender thoughts, for which  
You pay such lavish Tribute from your Eyes.  Queen. 
Sir, I was thinking of th' uncertain State  
Of Greatness, and amongst its sad Misfortunes,  
What would become of me, alas! if you  
(Which I've no reason to suspect)  
Should change your Love; and that produced these Tears.  King. 
You're in the right, if that should ever happen;—  
But what begets such Doubts within your Breast?  
You have done nothing to deserve such fears:  
You love me, and as long as that shall last,  
Mistrust not Harry.  Queen. 
By my hopes I do.  King. 
Blessed sound. I will hear nothing but my Bullen!  
Woolsey and Devil tempt me now no more! [Aside.  
Then shake these Clouds of sorrow from thy Eyes,  
And dart thy brighter Beams, like April sunshine,  
Into my Bosom, and thus lock me ever—  
Oh, now I nought remember but thy Charms,  
And quite forget whatever I was before.  
One word of Bliss, one word of Softness from thee,  
To banish hence suspicions, like the Plague,  
And clear our Breasts from jealousies for ever—  
What, not a syllable do I deserve?  
These Kisses, faint Embraces, and these Odours,  
Are ravished, not bestowed upon me— ha'!  Queen. 
What means my Lord?  King. 
What means the traitorous Bullen?  
By heaven she wants the cunning Trick and Skill;  
The easy quick Delusion of her Sex,  
To hid her falseness— By all Hell she's damned.  Queen. 
O Gracious Sir.  King. 
Too gracious not to kill thee—  
For whom, for whom are your kind Looks reserved?  
Hid you your Minion; for his safeguard, do.  
For were he amongst his happy Stars, I'd reach him.  
I'm frightful as a Ghost, or a Disease:  
For when I think to hold her in these Arms,  
She struggles like the Quarry in the Toil:  
And yields herself unto my loathed Embraces,  
With such a forced and awkered willingness,  
As men, when they are passed all hopes of life,  
Resign themselves into the power of Death.  Queen. 
What Fiend has put such Thoughts into your Breast?  
When did I wrong you? How have I been false?  
Yet I will not complain against my Lord.  
Since 'tis your Will— Sir, have I not obeyed you?  
No Slave so humbly faithful to your Pleasures,  
And in your Bed, with blushing, paid those Duties  
That modest Virgin, or chaste Wife could do:  
And if I was not wanton, pray forgive me.  King. 
Yes, yes, I have your outside; but Hell knows,  
And thy false self, who 'tis enjoys thy Soul!  
You yield to me indeed, 'tis true: but most  
Unwillingly you part with your dear Sweets,  
Unless it be to him that has your Hoard,  
But guard your fatal Honey with a Sting  
Against those you hate— Your Person you resign,  
But as to Prison; my Arms are but the Grates  
Through which your Mind is longing still to be abroad:  
Nay in the very Moment of Enjoyment:  
And who would think but then I should be happy?  
There's still fewer Picture in your Heart,  
On which you look, and fancy I am He,  
And all the while I'm sporting for another.  Queen. 
Can heaven hear this! O cruel, faithless Lord.  King. 
No: to thy Syren's Voice I'll stop my Ears;  
A thousand times, like them, thoust cheated me,  
Laid my just Passion to a gentle Calm,  
Whilst Storms behind were ready to devour me.  
On thy false dangerous Charms I'll wrack no more,  
But seek for shelter on some kinder Shore;  
A grateful Beauty here shall reign alone,  
And chase thee from my Heart, and from thy Throne.  
Ha! who comes there? My gentle Woolsey come,  
And with thy Counsel straight defend my Breast.  [The King meets Woolsey, and goes out leaning on him. Queen. 
Did not my Lord fly from me in a rage,  
Armed with a Frown, and darted it quite through me?  
And Woolsey in his Favourites place again?  
Nay, than the Wonder is expired; that proud,  
That great bad man, and Lucifer, ne'er meant  
Me nor my Virtue well— The King's Inconstancy  
Gins to show its Ianus Face again:  
And all the Doubts of an Unhappy Wretch,  
My Fears by Day, and horrid Dreams by Night,  
Are come to pass.  Enter Piercy. Pier. 
What shall I fear to see her!  
And tell her Face to Face the Perjuries  
And Falseness that she has heaped upon her Soul,  
And ruined mine?— Lo, where the False one is!  
In counterfeited Grief? By heaven in Tears!  
As if her sins already did upbraid her!  
Just powers! can you behold a Form so fair,  
And suffer Falseness to inhabit there?  
The Morning Sun risen from its watery Bed,  
Less precious drops does on Arabia shed:  
And sacred Viols of rich April-Showers;  
When he alternate Rain and sunshine pours;  
Nor is he half so Beautiful and Gay,  
As she a wiping of those Tears away.  Queen. 
Ha', Piercy! I'm betrayed. Advise me heaven!  
What shall I do!— begun, this place is Hell;  
Vipers and Adders lurking under Smiles,  
And flattering clothes of State: Oh! do not tread here;  
Under this Mask of Gallantry and Beauty,  
Is a rude Wild; nay, worse, a dangerous Ocean,  
Into whose Jaws, Love, like a Calenture,  
Will tempt us, where we both must Sink and Perish.  Pier. 
What, can so mean a Creature fright a Queen!  
Behold a wretched Thing of your undoing.  Queen. 
See where he stands, the Mark of pity, heaven!  
Shut, shut thy Eyes, and fly with speed away;  
Or view the Rocks and quicksands, if thou stay,  
Lest this rough Hellispont I venture on,  
And like Leander tempt my Fate, and drown.—  [Ex. Queen. Pier. 
Ha! she's surprised! shuns me! and flies from me!  
And more affrighted is at Piercy's wrongs,  
Than Guilty Ghosts, that having scaped to Earth,  
Hear the Cock Crow to summon 'em away,  
And start and tremble at the sight of Day.  
But yet she looked not like a Foe upon me;  
And as she parted, told me with her Eyes,  
That there was something in those speaking Tears,  
Which might Excuse her, and Condemn her Piercy.  Enter Northumberland. North. 
Son, I am come to tell you joyful News,  
The King has charmed the fair Diana for thee,  
And is resolved to Marry her to morrow,  
And Celebrate the Nuptials with a Pomp.  Pier. 
The King! the King is married, Sir.  North. 
He is.  
But thou art not: he intends to give her to thee  
Himself: Why dost thou start? 'Twas but this day  
You Swore and vowed, with all the Signs of Joy,  
And Duty to your Father, you'd obey me.  Pier. 
Alas! I did: But cannot heaven, nor you  
Forgive a rash, unhappy Man his Vow?  North. 
No: by the Blood that honour's Piercy's Veins,  
I swear, I will not—  
For married thou shalt be, and that to her,  
Or live a Vagabond, banished from Wealth,  
From Friends, and Pity; whilst I will advance  
Thy Younger Brother to thy lost Estate,  
And see thee starve; nay, more, and loaded with  
The Curses of thy Father—  Pier. 
Hold, Sir!—  
I'll strive t' obey you; not because I fear  
What Misery, or Death can do to me;  
Nor to avoid the hungry lion's Den,  
Or dragon's Teeth, just ready to devour me;  
For know, I plunge into a State more dreadful:  
But that I may not be th' unhappy Cause  
Of dragging wrongful Curses from a Father,  
Which rather turn upon his Head that aims,  
Than hurt the Bosom of the Innocent.  Enter Diana. North. 
See! she is coming, brighter than a Goddess—  
I'll leave you, and commit you to her Cure.  [Ex. North. Dian. 
Yonder's the dear-loved Man, whom all must love,  
That loves another too. What shall I say? [Aside.  
Spite of my Stars, I dote upon a Person,  
Who has no Heart, no Eyes that are his own;  
Nor yet one look that ever can be mine.  Pier. 
Madam! d'ye hear the news? My Father tells me,  
W''re to be married.  Dian. 
So the King will have it.  Pier. 
The King! What would the Tyrant be a God?  
To take upon him to dispose of Hearts!  
And join unequal Souls with one another!  
O Beautiful Diana! You're all Goodness,  
A store of Virtues in as bright a Person,  
As heaven e'er treasured in a Form Divine:  
If so, what can your Eyes behold in me?  
What see in such a wretched thing as I,  
To Marry me?  Dian. 
How Charming is his Person!  
And much more Charming is his Grief! And oh—  
How can she ere receive a Wound more deadly, [Aside.  
Than I, tormented with the double Dart  
Of Love and Pity— Some kind Deity  
Assist me now, lest I should show I love him,  
And teach my Tongue how to belly my Heart.  Pier. 
You seem to study for so plain an Answer.  
Come tell me straight my faults, and what you think;  
For here I stand, the Mark of Truth to aim at.  
What is there, in this miserable Shape,  
To look on without Scorn?  Dian. 
Now kind, heaven,  
Lend me the Cunning now of all my Sex! [Aside.  
I like you just as well as you like me; [To Piercy.  
Our Persons might, for all you said of mine,  
Be mended both, and both receive Additions:  
And for your Nature, I'll be plain, and tell you,  
I could have wished a Man of better humour;  
But 'tis no matter, since we're both so bad,  
We are the fit than for one another.  
Just Gods! what miserable Things we are! [Aside.  
Oh! when shall we attain that blessed abode,  
Where we may never fear to speak aloud,  
What's Just, and is no Sin?  Pier. 
What, do you hate me?  
Then you're happier one Degree than I;  
For should you love me, you are truly wretched.  Dian. 
Indeed he little thinks I am that Wretch. [Aside. To Piercy.  
Tell me wherefore?  Pier. 
Because the Cruel God  
Has robbed me of my whole Estate of Love,  
And left me naked, desolate, and poor;  
Not worth one Sigh, nor Wish, if that could pay  
The Debt I own: Nay, should you come a begging,  
Cold, and half starved, for Succour to my door,  
You would not find, in all this rifled Cottage,  
One Spark, one Charitable Spark, to warm you.  Dian. 
Hear, heaven! hear, Cruel One! who-e're thou art  
He loves, though I am slighted, scorned, nay hated, [Aside.  
Would thou hadst my Kind Eyes, my Breast, my Soul,  
Would all my Vital Blood were Balm to Cure him.  
Yet will our Cruel Parents have us married: [To Piercy.  
Then, since we must, how know we but our Bodies,  
And yet more Careless and Despairing Souls,  
In time may grow to such Indifference,  
As quite forgetting of what Sex we are,  
We may like faithful and condoling Friends,  
If not like Lovers, live together.  Pier. 
Ay;  
And when you're sad, I'll Kiss you like a Brother;  
And if you sigh, or chance to shed a Tear,  
I will weep too, and ask you why you grieve;  
And you shall do the like to me, and straight  
Embrace me like a Sister, still remembering  
The Subject of our just Complaints shall be,  
You that you're married——  Dian. 
You for Marrying me.  Pier. 
O rarely thought! 'twill be the only Means  
To make us happy both against our Wills;  
We'll moan, we'll sigh, we'll weep; we'll all but love—  
Instead of loving, pity one another.  Dian. 
And who can tell but Pity may at last,  
By gentle, soft Degrees, grow up to Love.  Pier. 
Come, let's away then, since they'll have it so;  
Meet these glad Rites to all Mankind but us,  
Where the malicious Charm shall join our Curses,  
And not our Persons, but our Woes together:  
Then turn us lose, like two condemned, loan Wretches;  
Banished from Earth, no Creature but ourselves,  
In an old Bark on wide and desert Seas,  
In Storms by Night and Day, unseen by all,  
Unpityed tossed, not one dear Morsel with us  
To ease our Hunger, nor one drop of Drink  
To quench our raging Thirst, and which is worse,  
Without one jot of Rigging, Sail, or Steer to guide us.  Dian. 
Forgive me, heaven! Forgive me all my Sex, [Aside.  
That ever loved, or e'er was scorned like me!  
Tho 'tis my Fate for ever to be hated,  
Tho we are doomed to dwell, like wand'ring Wretches,  
In worse than what his worst of Sorrow paints;  
Yet I must love him, and resolve to Marry him;  
And now I challenge all the wondering World,  
And more admiring Angels, if they can,  
To find who most is to be pitied, He  
Or I— Quick, let us launch then with a Courage, [To Piercy.  
Since 'tis our King and Cruel Parents Wills.  Pier. 
And give a rare Example to the married,  
Of Constancy: For that which severs them,  
Possession of their palled and loathed Enjoyments,  
Our faithful Woes shall join our Lives the faster.  Dian. 
And having each of us so mean a Stock  
Of love, I in your Breast, and you in mine;  
We need not fear that thiefs should come to rob us.  Pier. 
Nor jealousy to part us.  Dian. 
Well then, Piercy:  
When our expected Sentence is performed,  
Where shall we take our welcome Banishment?  Pier. 
To the World's End! Far from all fruitful Grounds,  
From Corn, and wine, or any wanton Spring;  
In some dead Soil, so barren and so cursed,  
Where neither loathsome Weeds, nor Thistles grow.  Dian. 
Or some deep Cave, where Winds are all so still,  
And Beasts so far remote, that we shall hear  
No Howls, nor Groans, but what we make ourselves.  Pier. 
No: on some dreadful Rock we'll choose to lie,  
Whose dismal Top seems fastened to the sky;  
Thence we can look on all the World below,  
So full of Vanity, so full of Woe!  
And sometimes on the Wrack-devouring Seas,  
The Emblem of our present Miseries:  
Sigh for the Creatures, think the Storms we see  
Our Cruel Parents, and the Wretches We.  Dian. 
Or waste our Days in wand'ring to and fro,  
And make our Lives one Harmony of Woe.  Pier. 
Till heaven shall rain down pity on us—  Dia. 
No.  
We'll not be pitied. Pity's half a Cure;  
That will bring Comfort, which we'll ne'er endure.  Pier. 
O my Virago Partner.  Dian. 
Nay, I dare you.  Pier. 
Then here we'll take an Oath, and with 〈◊〉 Kiss  
Let's strike a League with Woe, adieu to Bliss!  
And now I challenge the allseeing Sun,  
From his proud Prospect, his high Seat at Noon;  
Amongst all the Wonders of the World, to spy  
A Couple half so kind as thee and I;  
Or all the Matches that e'er Love decreed,  
If ever Man and Wife so well agreed.  
Love ofttimes flies from Misery and Pain;  
But we resolve the closer to remain.  
What though we Wed in Hatred, we may mend;  
We but begin where others surely end;  
And each of you that Marry first for love,  
We are but sooner, what at last you'll prove.  [Ex. Ambo. 
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT iv SCENE I.  Enter Blunt with Letters, Rochfort. Blunt. 
MY Lord, you act the cunning Lover well,  
Paint a rare Passion under all Disguises;  
Yet oh! I wish this Art had not been learned,  
But Names in you, and true Love the Teacher;  
Yet I will prise and hoard your Letters safe,  
As I would fragrant Flowers within my Bosom.  Roch. 
O my prodigious and exalted Soul,  
And my more precious Stars! I bless you all.  
Is there a Man amongst all your Favourites,  
So rich, so happy, and so loved as I!  
Methinks, for my dear Anna Boulogne's sake,  
If possible, I love you better now,  
Since I dare call you by the Name of Sister.  Blunt. 
And I much more now I can call you Brother.  Roch. 
O my too weighty Joys! Immortal State!  
And more Immortal Love!  Blunt. 
No more: I'll chide you.  
This is too great, too violent to last—  
Hold! give your Passion Breath, leave some for next,  
And love not all your wishes out at once—  
Where is the Queen?  Roch. 
I left her discontent.  Blunt. 
Why, where is Piercy? Has she seen him yet?  Roch. 
Seen him she has: but would not speak to him.  Blunt. 
Not speak to him! Oh Cruel, most inhuman!  
Had she but seen him in that state as I did,  
She would have spoke to him, and died for him.  Roch. 
Alas! Her Cruelty drew Pity from  
Her Eyes and Mine.  Blunt. 
Would she not speak t'him then!  Roch. 
No; not a word: but quite o'ercome her Pity,  
And went away resolved ne'er more to see him.  Blunt. 
The Reason.  Roch. 
She'd not tell— But I most doubt  
Her scrupulous Virtue is the Cause.  Blunt. 
Impossible!  
Virtue can never lodge with Cruelty.  
What stain were it to th' whitest Innocence?  
What Crime in the severest Virtue once,  
In her Condition, but to hear him speak?  
Come! she must see him—  Roch. 
Would my Life, and Fortune,  
Nay, all my Rights of Love, and Hopes in thee,  
Can purchase her Consent to seem him once,  
Pardon the Sallies of most mighty Friendship,  
So well I wish him, I would hazard all.  Blunt. 
Go tell, as from yourself, the sad condition  
Her horrid Cruelty has brought him to.  
Within this hour he entered my Apartment,  
Not like the Great, the Brave, and Charming Piercy,  
Whose Person none could see without adoring:  
But like a dreadful Ghost, or horrid Shadow,  
Far worse than what dead, melancholy Midnight,  
To frighted Man, e'er painted in a Dream;  
The Evil Genius of his Family  
ne'er looked so mad, nor threatened half the Woe,  
As he did to himself.  Roch. 
Unhappy Piercy.  Blunt. 
At first his fight was pointed to the Earth,  
Then with a Groan, charged with a Volley of Sighs,  
He lifted up his fatal Eyes on me, which I  
Can scarce behold with mine, they were so full  
Of pitying Tears—  
Then ran into such bitter, sad Complaints  
Against our sex's loathed Inconstancy,  
That I was forced to chide him—  Roch. 
Oh, no more!  
It wakes my drowsy Conscience from its rest,  
And stabs it with a gild.  Blunt. 
But then at last  
From rail into Blessings straight he fell,  
And on his Knees beseeched me that I'd plead,  
And beg the Queen, but once to see her Piercy;  
Which I, racked with Compassion, promised him.  
Alas! I fear more than I can perform:  
This said, I rise, and Piercy followed me;  
Therefore I charge you, by the Power of Friendship,  
By Piercy's Woes, and all the Love you own  
To me! go and prevail that he may see her:  
He said that you had vowed to bringed to pass.  Roch. 
I'll do it instantly; and if she will not,  
I'll bear her Body in these Arms by Force;  
Her mind, I'm sure, is willing to be with him.  Blunt. 
She's coming straight this way; go quickly you,  
(The miserable Wretch is yet without,)  
And give him notice, now's the time to speak t'her,  
Then straight return to hold her in Discourse  
Till Piercy comes.  Roch. 
So kind and pitiful!  
May all thy Cruel Sex be blessed for thee.  [Ex. Roch. Blunt. 
So— this has proved a lucky Tale, and now  
This rare Intelligence goes to my Woolsey,  
who'll send th' Alarm to the watchful King,  
Straight to surprise him with his Wife, like Jason,  
Just stealing of his Golden Fleece away—  
She comes, she comes, this Player-Queen; but know,  
This is the last proud Act of all thy show;  
This is a Bait, kind Stars, if you'll not frown,  
With which I'll take Revenge, or catch a Crown:  
And when she has got her heaven, and I my Aim;  
Who then dares tell me that I was to blame!  
For who contemns a prosperous Wickedness,  
Or thinks that ill, that's Sainted with Success.  [Ex. Blunt. Enter Queen with a Letter. Queen. 
What shall I do! where teach my trembling Feet  
Their way! was ever Virtue stormed like mine!  
Within, without, I am haunted all alike;  
Without tormented with a jealous King,  
Within, my Fears suggest a thousand Plagues,  
Bid me remember injured Piercy's Wrongs,  
And brand me with the Name of Cruel to him;  
Then on a sudden a more dreadful thought  
Upbraids me with a gild;  
And tells me, that kind Pity is a Sin.  
Witness, and blame not me, y'Immortal Powers!  
When you expose two different Paths, one Good,  
The other bad, and tell not which to take:  
If to obey you is my Aim, just heaven!  
'Tis not my fault if I should choose the wrong  Enter Rochfort. Roch. 
Sister! most Royal, Merciful, and Fair,  
And best beloved of heaven, and all Mankind,  
Let your dear Brother make it his Request,  
Thus on his Knees, as Deities are charmed,  
That you would hear th' unhappy Piercy speak,  
This once, and but this once— Piercy's without;  
Shall my best Friend take but his last Farewell?  
Grant it, or never more let Rochfort see you.  Queen. 
Oh Brother! plead no more, 'tis all in vain;  
Do not betray thy Sister to a gild,  
And slain the Crystal Virtue of a Soul,  
Which still she holds far dearer than a Crown;  
Seek not, by Vile Enchantments, to destroy  
That Innocence which yet is all my Force,  
All the Defence poor Bullen has against  
A jealous Husband, Cruel Foes, and worse,  
Against the Malice of Inveterate Hell.  Roch. 
What Danger can there be? what gild in you?  
To hear the Wretched and the injured pray?  
Come; for you will, you shall, you must now hear him.  Queen. 
No more! no more. There's yet a subtler Orator  
Than you, or Pity, pleads for Piercy here,  
Here in my firm courageous Soul, and stronger  
Than Father, Mother, or ten thousand Brothers,  
Yet I can that deny.  Roch. 
What shall I tell him?  Queen. 
Tell him, we are undone; I must not see him;  
And what's far worse, the King is jealous; tell him  
I love him— Tell him what is false, I hate him;  
Say any thing; but let me not behold him;  
For oh! my Weakness he so fierce assaults,  
'Twill spoil— 'Twill wrack my Conduct— See, he comes.  Enter Piercy. 
Most Cruel Piercy!— Cruel Brother rather—  
Help— Take, and bear me swiftly from the Danger.  Roch. 
Cast but one Look, and you must needs relent.  Queen. 
What shall I do? which Passage shall I choose? [Aside.  
Arm me, kind heaven! against my Foe of Pity.  Pier. 
Still, still she turns, and hides her treacherous Eyes—  
Is't possible that she can feel Remorse?  
Or Pity after all? O no; she loves too well  
The fatal Cause that purchased all this Pomp—  
Stay, Anna Bullen! Stay; my Queen— Perhaps  
It is expected I should call you Queen:  
Behold your Hatred—  Queen. 
Fly, good Piercy, fly:  
There's Nets preparing for your life and mine—  
There's nought but Snares and quicksands where we tread,  
Unfathomed Pits hid under painted Grounds  
Where vast Destruction watches to devour us:  
Farewell—  Pier. 
Hear me but first, and show thy Face,  
Thy false, dissembling Beauties—  
Many when wracked have been by Dolphins born,  
And safely landed on the welcome Shore:  
And in the Forests, nay, the Monsters Dens,  
The Passenger, half starved for want of Food,  
Has by the lions oft been spared and fed:  
But Cruel Bullen, Cruel Beauty kills  
All whom it Fetters, most on whom it Smiles.  
Nor can the Elements, nor gentler Brutes,  
Teach Woman to be pitiful or good.  Queen. 
Now, now just heaven! you're showering all your Plagues  
At once upon my Head, and I will bear 'em;  
Bear 'em like one of you, and bless the Weight;  
Hear myself false upbraided, called most perjured,  
Deceitful, and the Monster of my Sex;  
Even I, (who, you Revengeful Powers above.  
Know,) love this Cruel Chider to a Fault!  
Ah Piercy, Piercy— Fly; for life begun;  
Each Minute that you stay brings Death to both.  Pier. 
Ah, hold! If not for Love, for Pity stay.  
And if no just Complaint can pierce your hearing,  
Then Blessings shall: Ten thousand Blessings on you,  
If you will hear the cursed of Mankind speak.  Roch. 
Now, Sister, heard you that! By heaven it melts me.  
Sure I'm turned all the Woman, you the Man.  Queen. 
Give me your hand, kind Brother, and support me;  
Help, for I stagger with the triple Weight  
Of Grief, Despair, and Pity!  
My Senses all are charmed, and Feet fast tied  
To this enchanted Floor— Quick, or I'm lost.  Pier. 
Yet turn; if there's one jot of Pity in you;  
If Piercy e'er was worth one Thought, I charge you,  
By the loved Name of Anna Bullen, stay—  
What then, will nothing move? O inexorable!  
No not a Look! not Piercy worth one Look!  
Yet, Rochfort, hold! Canst thou too be so Cruel!  
Fell and obdurate both!  
Is there no hope? but will you; will you then  
Begun?  Queen. 
Fly, Brother, ere it be too late,  
For should I listen but a Moment more,  
The strength of Hercules were not enough  
To draw me hence, so unruly is my Body,  
And my unwilling Soul so loath to part.  Pier. 
Then with my Knees, thus fastening to the ground  [Piercy knelt upon her Robe. 
Your Robe, and thus with my extended Arms  
I'll force and charm you, till you've heard my last  
Complaint: And then forbear to pity if you can.  Queen. 
Why dost thou hold?— Why do I hold myself?  Pier. 
Ten thousand Curses light upon her Soul  
In Hell; and worse, what mine on Earth endures,  
That first taught Woman Falsehood—  
If for a Crown she's false! Oh may that Crown  
Sat loathsome on her Forehead as her Crimes,  
May adder's nest within th' Ambitious Round,  
And into Stings the fatal ermines turn.  
When dead, may all the Miseries she feels  
Be through the World recorded as a Mark  
For faithful Lovers to beware, and ne'er  
Be named without a Curse.  Queen. 
Ah Cruel Piercy!  Pier. 
But for my Queen, let heaven and Angels guard her;  
Her I except from any bitter Fate:  
Let Anna Boulogne's Breast be ne'er disturbed,  
Nor Soul upbraided with the Wrongs of Piercy:  
And oh, kind heaven! if there be any Sorrow  
(As sure none e'er can be) ordained for her,  
False as she is, I beg that it may fall  
Only on wretched Piercy's Head— May Hers  
Be all the Pleasure still, and mine the Pain.  Queen. 
O Gods! obdurate heavens! Cruel Honour! [Aside.  
And yet more Cruel virtue, hear and see!  Pier. 
And when I shall for ever be recluse,  
As now I go to part with all Mankind,  
'Twill be my Joy, sometimes to think of you,  
And make me live, perhaps, one Day the longer,  
When in my Melancholy Cell, I hear  
That the Crown flourishes on Boulogne's Head.  Queen. 
Ha! I'm or'ewhelmed, the sluices all are broke, [Aside.  
And Pity, like a Torrent, pours me down;  
Now I am drowning, all within's a Deluge;  
Wisdom nor Strength can stem the Tide no more,  
And Nature in my Sex ne'er felt the like—  
Help Rochfort, ere I'm rooted to this Earth.  
Away, away! the least word more undoes me.  Pier. 
Yet turn one Look upon me, ere you go.  Queen. 
There, take it, with my life, perhaps the purchase—  
Take that too, Piercy, thou hast been betrayed. [Gives him a Letter.  
Learn there th' unhappy Boulogne's Fate— Farewell.  Pier. 
Yet stay— the Soul ne'er parted with such pangs,  
From the pale Body, as you fly from me.  Queen. 
Piercy adieu— I can— I will— I must  
No more.  [Ex. Qu. and Roch. Pier. 
What, never see you more! She's gone,  
She's gone, more loved and beautiful than ever:  
And now methought, just as she parted from me,  
She shot a Look quite through my gory Heart,  
And lest it Gasping, Dying, and Despairing—  
What's here, a Letter! and the Character  
That I so oft have been acquainted with?  
If these Eternal Kisses give me leave,  
I'll break it open with as great a Joy,  
As I had leaped into our marriagebed,  
And rifled all the Sweets and Pleasures there—  
What's this I read!  Reads. 

By Wicked Woolsey, Harry, and our Parents  
I was betrayed, and forced to Wed the King:  
Who intercepted all thy Letters, Swearing  
With Sacramental Oaths, that thou wert false,  
And married First— Piercy adieu, and Credit me,  
And that I loved thee better than my Life.  
Burn this rash Paper, lest the Fiends disclose it.  
BULLEN.   
She's Innocent! Oh! you Immortal Powers!  
She's Innocent! And then she loves me still.  
Sound, sound my Joy, till my Exalted Soul  
Is wound up to th' extremest pitch of Bliss:  
Let Piercy never after this be sad—  
Yet hold— What dawn of Comfort canst thou spy  
In this— Oh none— This Gloworm-Spark,  
This glimpse of Hope is vanished, and I'm left  
In deeper Darkness, horror and Despair,  
Than e'er I was before—  
Oh Anna Bullen! Cursed in being true!  
And I more cursed in knowing it too late.  Re-enter Queen and Rochfort. 
Ha! she returns! The mourning Angel comes  
Again! Sure heavens in Love with both our Miseries,  
They look with such a Pomp and Train in me;  
And are so beautiful in her!  Queen. 
Well, Brother,  
And thou far stronger and Immortal Pity,  
And more Immortal Love, ye have brought me back—  
Ye have. What! what will you do with me now?  Roch. 
Can any thing on Earth! Tiger, or Panther,  
Much less a Creature formed by heaven like It:  
Can you, I say, refrain at such an Object!  
At the last Words of the unhappy Wretch,  
And not forbear to balm him o'er in Tears,  
Or else but hear him speak!  Queen. 
Now I'm enclosed again!  
The Combat now grows fierce and strong, and oh!  
How weak an Armour Resolution is,  
Against our Passions, or the Man beloved:  
Virtue and Honour, hence be proud no more,  
Nor brag of your Dominion o'er Mankind;  
Lest Love, most fatal Love, too soon should tell you,  
And make you feel, he has mightier Chains than you—  
See where he is— Look heaven with tender Eyes;  
Give Council to my just despairing Soul,  
And tell me, Pity is no Sin— Ah Piercy!  Pier. 
My Charming Queen! my Anna Bullen once!  
Am I so blessed, and yet so wretched too,  
As what is written here contains; and tell me!  
May I believe that you can love me still?  Queen. 
Oh Piercy! Piercy! urge me not to tell you  
What heavens Austerity will not permit,  
Nor force me to declare—  
What the Eternal Sees already written  
In too broad Characters within my Breast;  
How large, how deep thy Story's graven here,  
And what I dare not, never must unfold—.  
Oh! I have said too much.  Pier. 
What! said too much!  
Can you repent of one kind thought of Piercy?  
And spitefully call back your tender Mercy!  
Nay, worse; Can you behold the almost Naked,  
And starved beseeching Wretch, and strive to pull  
The tottered Remnants from his quivering Joints,  
And dash the Pitcher from the greedy Lips  
Of one just ready to expire with Thirst?  
Oh Cruel Queen! For Anna Bullen would not,  
She would not, would not use her Piercy thus.  Queen. 
Cease, cease such sounds—  
And turn thy sad, resistless Eyes away;  
For if I once behold those Tears, and hear  
Thy just Complaints, I can no longer hold,  
But break I must through all the bonds of Virtue.  
Nay, stood the Jealous Harry by  
With all his Guards of Devils, Woolsey's, Cardinals;  
In spite of all, in spite of more myself  
I must both see, hear thee, and speak to thee,  
And pity thee. Now are you satisfied?  Pier. 
It is enough, bright Daughter of the Sky:  
YE have conquered me, my Deity, you have  
Here on my Knees, but yet at distance too,  
The Posture of a Soul in Extacy,  
I beg a thousand Pardons of my Queen.  
A Look, a Sigh, or Tear, from Anna Bullen,  
Is far more worth than all the trifling Wrongs;  
Nay, than the Life and very Soul of Piercy.  Queen. 
Help me just heaven, who sees how I'm besieged,  
And what a weak Resistless Wretch I am!  
Why d'ye impose on us so hard a Task  
On poor Mankind, so feeble and so frail,  
Making us here commissioners of Virtue,  
Yet put by Drams and Scruples in the balance,  
To Counter-poise and weigh down Flesh and Blood.  
How weaks my Will to draw my Body hence;  
And oh! how loath my Eyes are to departed,  
But with for ever to be fastened on thee,  
And look one Look to vast Eternity;  
Yet we must part, Ah, Piercy! part for ever—  Pier. 
Ah say not so! must we so soon, my Queen!  
Is then this moment's Bliss so Criminal,  
That it must forfeit all my precious Hopes  
Of an Assurance once to meet again!  Queen. 
My mind now bodes to me, that 'tis our last:  
Yet I must bid thee go: There is no Joy for us;  
The World's a Deluge all to thee and me—  
There is no rest, my Piercy, in this World,  
No Sanctuary to lay the weary Head  
Of the undone, th' unpitied, and betrayed.  
Farewell: There's somewhat rises o'er my Soul,  
And covers it as with a fatal Cloud  
Of Horror, Death, and Fear. It cannot be;  
The Sting of parting cannot do all this;  
Farewell, farewell.  Pier. 
Stay; must we part for ever?  
What never! never meet again!  Queen. 
Never till we are Clay, and then perhaps,  
Neglected as we were in Life, thrown out in Death,  
Some Charitable Man may be so kind,  
To give our poor forsaken Bodies Burial,  
Laying 'em both together in one Bed  
Of Earth.—  
Ha! the times come! my Fatal dooms at Hand!  Three Drops of Blood falls from her Nose, and stains her Handkerchief. 
Behold, the heavens in Characters of Blood,  
In three inevitable Drops,  
Have sealed it, and decreed that it is now!  
Ah Piercy! fly, and leave me here alone  
To stem this mighty Torrent of my Fate.  
Begun, while I have Life to bid thee go:  
For now Death stops my Tongue— [She swoons.  Pier. 
My Lord—  
She Faints— My Life! my Anna Bullen stay;  
Or your Commands shall Fetter me no more;  
But break I will through all the Bars of Distance,  
And catch thee thus, thus hold thee in my arms—  
Rochfort! Oh help to call her back again.  
Hold, stop thy flight; thou precious Air return!  
Far richer than that rare Immaculate Breath,  
Which Natures God breathed in the first of Mankind!  Roch. 
Wake Sister, wake! behold, no dangers nigh!  Queen. 
Ah Piercy! Now I wake, with Courage now  
To meet my Fate; and see where it approaches.  Enter Cardinal, Northumberland, and Guards. Pier. 
Ha! Woolsey, and my Father with the Guards!  Card. 
My Lord, ere we discover our Commission,  
Pray, let your Son be parted from the Queen,  
Lest the wronged King should see him in his Rage,  
And Execute his worst of Fury on him.  North. 
Son! tho' you have committed, in the Court,  
The greatest Crime, against your Royal Master,  
That e'er a Subject can be guilty of;  
Yet in respect of these grey Hairs and Tears,  
He has been pelased to spare your forfeit Life:  
Therefore begun: A minute's stay is fatal—  
Guards, force him, if he goes not willingly,  
And carry him straight, by Barge, to Suffolk-House  
Without Reply.  Pier. 
Obediently I'll go,  
If you will promise me that you have nought  
Against the Sacred Person of the Queen,  
And will not touch her: For 'tis greater sacrilege,  
Then 'tis to hurt an Angel, could it be,  
She is so Innocent, so chaste, and Pure.  
Else I'm resolved to stand, no Rock so firm!  
Fixed like the centre to the Massey Globe.  
You should as soon remove strong Hercules,  
With his Hands grasping both the Poles of Heaven,  
As force me from this Footing, where I stand,  
And see the Queen but threatened, or in danger.  Card. 
My Lord, on both our Honours, the Queen's Person  
Shall be Inviolate and Sacred always;  
Nor know we ought against her— but the King  
Is coming straight to visit her, as kindly  
As he was wont: Therefore you must be gone—  
We have no other Reason, but your safety.  Pier. 
I fear! for ah what Truth can come from thee?  
Thou speakest but at the Second Hand from Hell—  
Kind Sir, May I believe what Woolsey says?  Card. 
Confirm it, good my Lord, or you'll delay.  North. 
'Tis true, what the great Cardinal has told you.  Queen. 
Go, Piercy; and mistrust not more than I;  
Begun, if I have Power left to Command;  
Leave me to Innocence, and heaven that will not  
Permit a Soul that never did any ill,  
To fear it.  Pier. 
Then I'll go— But oh Just heaven!  
And all you Angels, Cherubins, and Thrones:  
All you bright Guards to the most High Imperial,  
You kindest, gentlest, mildest Planets,  
You lesser Stars, you fair Innumerable,  
And all you bright Inhabitants above,  
Protect the Sacred Person of the Queen;  
And shed your balefull'st Venom on their Heads,  
That think to slain a Whiteness like yourselves.  
Farewell—  [Ex. Piercy. Queen. 
Farewell!  Card. 
john Viscount Rochfort, by the King's Command,  
W' Arrest you here, of Capital, High Treason.  Queen. 
Hear heaven! my Brother fallen into the Snare!  Card. 
And 'tis his Pleasure, that you straight be sent  
Close Prisoner to the Tower, with the Lord Norris,  
Who is suspected with you to be Guilty  
Of the same heinous Crime. Guards! Seize his Person.  Roch. 
Base Villain! Traitor! Woolsey! Say, for what?  Queen. 
No matter. Let a Woman teach thee Courage:  
ne'er ask for what, since 'tis his wise Decree  
Above who gave us with a liberal Hand,  
And sat us on the highest Spoke of Greatness,  
No longer than he pleased to call us down—  
Well, Whose turns next? Come, dart your worst, my Lords,  
And meet a tempered Breast, that knows to bear.  
By my bright Hopes, you're more afraid than I;  
I did expect you would begin with me!  Card. 
Most Royal Madam, Oh! I wish the King  
Had chosen some less unwilling than ourselves,  
To Execute this most detested Office.  
In Witness of it, on our Knees, with Tears [knelt.  
And Sorrow, we our sad Commission tell:  
It is the Kings most fatal Pleasure too,  
That you be sent a Prisoner to the Tower,  
And thence, immediately to both your trials. [Rises.  Roch. 
Trial! oh her wronged Innocence! for what?  Queen. 
No more, Dear Brother; let us both submit,  
And give heaven Thanks, and our most Gracious King;  
For I'm not so presumptuous of my Virtue;  
But think, Dear Rochfort, that both you and I  
Have once committed, in our erring Lives,  
Something, for which we justly merit Death.  
Though not, perhaps, the Thing we are accused of.  Enter the King in a Fury, with Letters in his Hand. Attendants and Guards. Card. 
The King is here!  Queen. 
Then he is Merciful.  King. 
Where is this Woman! this most abhorred of Wives!  
This Scandal to her Sex, my Crown and Life!  
What by your Minion? oh good natured Husband!  
Down on your Knees, and thank me for the favour—  
See— here are Letters fallen into my Hands,  
Where your dear Brother says he has enjoyed you.  [Gives the Letters to the Queen 
Oh thou more damned, and more Insatiate far,  
Than Messalina. She was chaste, to thee.  
Her, half the Men and Slaves of Rome,  
Can satisfy; but thou, not all Mankind,  
With Husband, Brother, Kindred in the Number. [She gives 'em Roch.  Queen. 
Oh heavenly powers! oh Guard of Innocence!  
What do I see and hear! O Sacred Sir!  
You took me to your Royal Bed, a handmaid,  
The most unworthy of the mighty Favour;  
Oh throw me into Dungeons straight, or take  
Away my Life, that ne'er offended you:  
Take all, in recompense, from Anna Bullen!  
'Tis yours; But do not Rob me of my Fame,  
Nor slain my Virtue with so foul a gild.  Roch. 
What's here? my Amorous Letters sent to Blunt!  
Has she betrayed me!  King. 
I will hear no more— [To the Queen.  Roch. 
Ah Royal Sir, these Letters I confess—  King. 
Damn thy hot Lustful Breath; thy poisonous Tongue!  
Here, take 'em hence, to Tortures, Racks, to Death.  Queen. 
O Sir! I am prepared for any Death;  
For worse than Death, a thousand, thousand Torments;  
And if you think 'em all not pain enough,  
Here, take Advice of Woolsey; he'll instruct you;  
Tell you, how you may plague this hated Body;  
But do not think that I'm so loathed a Creature.  King. 
Quick; Take away thy Hands, or I will force thee—  Queen. 
You shall not, cannot, till I've Sworn the Truth:  
For, by th' unspotted Babe within the Womb,  
That yet lies wrapped in Innocence, unborn;  
By injured Truth, by Souls of martyred Saints,  
By you, my Lord, my Husband, and my King!  
And by the King of Kings, the King of heaven,  
I'm wronged! Ah Royal, gracious Sir, I'm wronged.  King. 
Unhand me; or I'll spurn thee from thy hold—  
Seize, seize on Piercy— By my Life, who begs [To the Guards.  
In his Behalf's a traitor, worse than he— [too North. who knelt.  
Here is another Letter too, it is from Norris,  
Who much Commends your darling, secret Beauties,  
And sweetness of your Lips; Yet you are wronged!—  
Here's Notes of your Musician too, that charmed you.  
Eternal Hell! where's such another Monster?  
I have more Horns than any forest yields,  
Than Finsbury, or all the City Musters  
Upon a Training, or a Lord Mayors-Day.  
Rise! and begun, thou Fiend, thou Sorceress;  
Thy Power, thy Charms, like witchcraft, all have left thee.  
Go you incestuous Twins, make haste and mingle  
Your foul, Adulterate Blood in Death together—  
Oh, they're too long asunder. Why, dost Weep!  
Go to thy Death, and what's a greater pain,  
May heaven, like me, see all those Tears in vain.  [Ex. King, Attendants. Roch. 
Ah Sister! what dire Fiends must punish Rochfort:  
What will become of me, the Cause of all?  Queen. 
Fear not. Heaven knows thy Innocence, and mine!  
What tho' we suffer here a little shame!  
'Tis to reward our Souls above, and with  
Immortal Restitution Crown 'em there—  
We two lived in one Mother's spotless Womb;  
And then we scarce had purer Thoughts than now!  
And shortly we shall meet together in  
One Grave.  Roch. 
O say not so: Death dare not be so Cruel.  Queen. 
Cease Brother, cease; say not a word in answer;  
But lead me, like a Valiant Man, to Chains.  
Come, let's prepare— But first my Pomp adieu!  [knelt, and lays down her Crown. 
From heaven I did my Crown and Life receive,  
And back to heaven both Crown and Life I'll give;  
And thus, in humble posture, lay it down  
With greater Joy than first I put it on. [Rises.  
And now I tread more light, and see from far  
A Beamy Crown, each Diamond a Star.  
But oh, you Royal Martyrs! cease a while  
Your Crying Blood, that else must curse this Isle;  
Of the Imperial ask it with my prayer;  
For you are still the nearest Angels there:  
Then Richard, Edwards, Henry, all make room,  
The first of slaughtered English Queens I come;  
Let me amongst your glorious, happy Train,  
Free from this hated World, and Traitors Reign.  [Ex. Ambo. 
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT v SCENE I.  Enter Cardinal and Blunt severally. Card. 
LUckiest of Omens! do I meet my Juno!  
My Fair, Illustrious Partner in Revenge!  
Come, tell the News that your glad Eyes proclaim:  
Speak, by thy Looks, I know it must be well.  
Is she condemned? Shall Rome be Absolute?  
Shall Woolsey Reign, and shall my Blunt be Queen?  Blunt. 
'Tis as thou sayest, most mighty of thy Function;  
Greatest that e'er adorned this Robe, it is.  
These Eyes saw the bright English Sun eclipsed,  
And what is more, eclipsed by Thee and Me,  
Cast by her awful Judges from her Height,  
Guilty and shamed, as Lucifer from heaven,  
And forced to beg it, as the mildest Sentence,  
To lose her Head.  Card. 
Then there's an end of Bullen.  Blunt. 
And what to see, gave me the greater Joy;  
Those Letters counterfeited by the Fool  
Her Brother, were the strongest Proofs against her;  
So the same Papers which by your Advice  
I got conveyed into her Cabinet,  
Were the substantiall'st Circumstances found  
For which she dies.  Card. 
O Just and Sacred Rage,  
Revenge! Thou greatest Deity on Earth!  
And Woman's Wit the greatest of thy Council.  Blunt. 
We ought to veil before your Priestly Robe;  
My Crown of Wit shall ne'er stand Candidate  
With yours; and yet I dare be bold to say,  
This I, and Malice would have done alone,  
Without the mighty Aid of Woolsey's Brain.  Card. 
Then nothing's to be done by Fate, nor Woolsey,  
But take the vanquished Crown from Boulogne's Head,  
And place it suddenly on yours.  Blunt. 
For which,  
My gracious Woolsey, I will so reward you.  Enter to them Piercy. Pier. 
Blackness Eternal cover all the World!  
Infernal Darkness, such as Egypt felt,  
When the Great Patriarch cursed the fatted Land,—  
And with a Word extinguished all the light.  Blunt. 
See, Piercy's here! more mad than we are joyful:  
Does't not make young the Blood about thy heart,  
T' see that our Revenge not singly hits,  
But, like a Chain-shot carries all before it?  Card. 
Let us avoid him— you intent to see  
The Queen receive her Death: But I, to hid  
The Pleasure that perhaps the sight would give me,  
Will pass this Day at Esher, like a Mourner.  Pier. 
Behold, the Sun shines still; instead of Darkness,  
Yond Azure Blue's unspeckled with a Cloud;  
The Face of heaven smiles on her as a Bride,  
The Day, the Sun sits mounted on his Chariot,  
And darts his spiteful Beams in scorn of Pity;  
‛ bats not a jot of the Illustrious Pomp,  
He should have furnished on her Wedding-Day:  
Heaven looks like heaven still, Nature as 'twas,  
Men, Beasts, and Devils; every thing that lives,  
Conspires, as pleased at Anna Boulogne's Fall.  
Behold, just Powers! the Curses of the Land!  
Stay you Amphibious Monsters, Priest, and Devil! [To the Card. and Blunt.  
And Strumpet, if it can be, worse than both!  
You far more dreadful Pair than those that first  
Betrayed poor easy Man, and all Mankind:  
Thou fatal Woman Thou! and Serpent Thou!  
By whose sole Malice (oh that heaven should let it!)  
A greater Innocence this Day is fallen,  
Than ever blessed the Walks of Paradise.  Card. 
My Lord, I shall acquaint the King with this,  
And those just Lords the Judges of her Cause,  
Whom your base Malice wrongs— But I'm above it—  
Farewell.  [Ex. Card. and 〈◊〉 Pier. 
Bold traitors! Hellhounds! hear me first;  
Stay you infectious Dragons; do you fly!  
Does Anna Boulogne's Chastity and Virtue,  
Writ in this Angry forehead, make you start— [Exeunt.  Enter Diana to him. 
What, the fair, wronged Diana's Face in Tears!  
Can Anna Boulogne's Miseries Attract  
The noblest of Compassion, Pity from  
A rival's Breast! thou Wonder of thy Sex!  
How far more Wretched makest thou Piercy still,  
When I behold how much thou dost deserve,  
And I, so very little have to pay!  Dian. 
What Rocky-heart could have refrained from Pity,  
To see the Sight that I did! any thing,  
But Man, most Cruel Mankind, would have grieved;  
Tigers and Panthers would have wept to see her;  
And her base Judges, had they not been Men,  
Would have bemoaned her like departing Babes.  Pier. 
Is Rochfort too condemned?  Dian. 
Alas! he is.  
Rochfort and Norris both, received their Sentence,  
And both behaved themselves like Gallant Men—  
But for the Queen! Ah Piercy, such bright Courage,  
No thought can Dictate, nor no Tongue Relate,  
When she was taxed with that unnatural Crime,  
Adultery with her Brother; ('Tis a Sin  
That e'er it should be named.) At first she started,  
And soon an Innocent, not Guilty, Red  
Adorned her Face, and Sainted it with Tears;  
But straight conceiving it a Fault, she smiled,  
Wiped off the Drops, and chid the Blush away.  Pier. 
When I am Dead, may my sad Tale be blessed,  
And have no other Tongue, but thine, to tell it.  Dian. 
Then with the meekness of a Saint she stood;  
With such amazing Oratory dazzled,  
And like the Sun, darted quite through her Judges,  
And shamed their gild, that none durst look upon her:  
But oh! what's destined in the blackest Pit  
Of Hell; what Innocence can ne'er withstand.  
What e'er she said, that Angels could not sinner,  
And showed a Soul, no Crystal nigh so clear;  
Tho' all appeared to be the Plot of Devils;  
Yet was she guilty found, and, oh, sad Piercy!  
(May all Eyes weep at it, like thine and mine)  
Condemned to lose her Head.  Pier. 
Hell dare not think it.  Dian. 
The Cruel Duke of Norfolk, her Relation,  
As Steward for the Day, pronounced the Sentence.  Pier. 
And my hard hearted Father too was there.  Dia. 
My Lord! What said you? your hard hearted Father?  
Oh blotted let it be from all Records,  
And never be in England's Annals read,  
What I'm about to tell you. Her own Father,  
The Earl of Wiltshire, sat amongst her Judges.  Pier. 
O Monster damned! than Cruel Titan worse,  
That eat up his own Issue as he got 'em.  Dia. 
Behold, the King! All Knees, are bend, all Hands,  
All good men's Eyes lift up to heaven and him,  
To beg the Life of Her that glads the World.  Pier. 
Make use of all thy woman's art to win him;  
Let all Petition him that share her Blood,  
Matrons, Wives, Virgins, all the charming Sex.  Dia. 
Do you withdraw. You but incense the King—  
i've yet a soft Experiment to try,  
Shall pierce his stubborn Nature to the Quick.  Pier. 
That Angel, thou'rt inspired with prosper thee.  [Exeunt. Enter King and Attendants. King. 
Piercy! did I not charge he should be seized?  [To the Guards who go out to seize Piercy. 
Now by the sacred Crown of England's monarches,  
Let none entreat me upon pain of Death? [To Petitioners.  
What's here? a List of base Petitioners,  
for Norris Life! Hell and Confusion seize 'em  
〈◊〉 I not like a Rock against the Seas,  
〈◊〉 Mountain against the Winds stood thus unshaken,  
Denied all England's Prayers, and Tears of Angels?  
Nay more, this heart, that pleads with mortal pangs  
For my dear Anna Boulogne's life? And shall I  
Pardon a Slave before I would my Queen?  Enter Northumberland, who knelt. King. 
Why dost kneel?  North. 
I met my Son this most unlucky moment,  
Just as the Guards were ready to obey,  
And Execute your fatal orders on him,  
Who in despair, or rather in obedience,  
Making a faint resemblance to resist;  
As they were striving to put by his Sword,  
He on a sudden opened wide his Arms,  
And on his Breast received a wilful wound.  
I kneel with humble prayers, that his Disaster  
would mitigate your present and just Fury,  
And grant my Son his freedom, till his hurt  
Is cured, which is not mortal.  King. 
Be it so.  Enter Diana, leading in the tongue Princess Elizabeth, with womans. Dian. 
Pardon this bold Intrusion in your Presence.  
Your Daughter Sir, this little Princess here,  
Possessed with woman's Rage, and far above  
The little sparkling Reason of a Child,  
Screamed for her Father; Where's my Father, said she;  
And as we brought her to you, still she cried,  
Unless she saw her Father, she would die.  King. 
What wouldst thou have, my little Betty, say?  Child. 
But will you promise me that you'll not frown,  
And cry aloud, Hough? and then indeed I'll tell you.  King. 
I do. Come, Let me take thee in my Arms—  Child. 
No: but I'll kneel: for I must be a Beggar,  
And I have learned, that all who beg of you,  
Must do it kneeling.  North. 
Prettiest Innocence!  King. 
well then, what is't my little prattler, say?  Child. 
I'm told that straight my Mother is to die,  
Yet I have heard you say, you loved her dearly:  
And will you let her die, and me die too?  King. 
She must die, Child; There is no harm in death;  
Besides the Law has said it, and She must.  Child. 
Must! is the Law a greater King than you?  King. 
O yes. But do not cry my pretty Betty:  
For she'll be happier when she's dead, and go  
To Heaven.  Child. 
Nay, I'm sure she'll go to heaven.  King. 
How art thou sure?  Child. 
Some body told me so  
Last night when I was in my sleep.  King. 
Who was it?  Child. 
A fine Old man, like my Godfather Cranmer.  Card. 
Ay! there's the Egg that hatched this Cockatrice.  Child. 
Pray Father, what's that huge, tall, Bloody man?  
I ne'er saw him but once in all my life,  
And then he frighted me. He looks for all  
The World, just like the Picture of the Pope.  King. 
Why, don't you love the Pope?  Child. 
No indeed done't I,  
Nor never will.  King. 
Ay, but you must my Dear;  
He is a fine old man too, if you saw him.  Card. 
Go you're a little heretic.  Child. 
A heretic!  
Pray Father, what does that bold Fellow call me?  
What's that?  King. 
Why, that's One that forsakes the right,  
And turns to a new, wrong Religion.  Child. 
Then I'm no heretic: For I ne'er turned  
In all my life. But you forget your Child.  
Dear Father, will you save my Mother's life?  King. 
You must not call me Father: For they say,  
You're not my Daughter.  Child. 
Who's am I then?  
Who told you so? That ugly old, bald Priest?  
He tells untruth. I'm sure you are my Father?  King. 
How art?  Child. 
'Cause I love none so well as you—  
But oh you'll never hear me what I have to say,  
As long as He, that Devil there, stands by  
Your Elbow.  King. 
Ha! what Devil?  Child. 
That Red Thing there.  King. 
Oh Child; He is no Devil, he's a Cardinal.  Child. 
Why does he wear that huge, long Coat then?  
Unless it be to hid his Cloven Feet.  Card. 
Sir, all's designed by Cranmer for the Queen,  
Of whom Sh'as learned this Lesson like a Parot.  King. 
Take her away. I were a Fool indeed,  
in women's Tears, and children's idle Prattle,  
Should change my fixed Resolves, and cheat my Justice—  
Away with her.  Child. 
Oh, but they dare not:  
Father, will you not let your Betty kiss you?  
Why do you let 'em pull me from you so?  
I ne'er did anger you:  
Pray save my Mother, Dear King-Father do;  
And if you hate her, we will promise both,  
That she and I will go a great, huge way,  
And never see you more.  King. 
Unloose her; hough!  
Hence with her strait: I will not hear her prate  
Another word. Go, you're a naughty Girl.  Child. 
Well, I'm resolved when I am grown a Woman,  
I'll be revenged, and cry, Hough, too.  [Ex. Diana, Princess, womans. King. 
Ha! Spirit!  
Mount all the Draw-Bridges, and guard the Gates,  
Then bring the Prisoners forth to Execution:  
Norris, and Rochfort first, and then the Queen:  
My Lord Northumberland, be it your Task;  
Dispatch my Orders strait, and fetch the traitors—  
What's this that gives my Soul a sudden Twitch?  
And bids me not proceed. Ha! is't Compassion!  
Shall Pity ever fond the Breast of Harry!  
'Tis but a slip of Nature, and I'll on.  
Think on thy Wrongs; the Wrongs her Lust has done thee,  
And sweep away this loathed Incestuous, Brood,  
As heaven would drive a Plague from off the Land:  
Think thou shalt have thy Seymor in thy Arms,  
Who shall restore thy loss with double Charms:  
And tho' my Bullen sets this Night, and dies,  
Seymor, next Morn, like a new Sun shall rise.  [Ex. King. Attendants. North. 
With an unwilling Heart, I take this Office.  
And heaven, if Anna Boulogne's Innocent,  
Forgive me, since it is my King's Command.  
My Breast is sad, and tender for her, all;  
Tho' Piercy ne'er can rise, but by her Fall—  Enter to him Rochfort, Lieutenant, and Guards. Roch. 
wil't not be granted, that I here may see  
My Sister ere I die, to part with her?  Lieut. 
There is my Lord Northumberland, he'll tell you.  Roch. 
My Lord, you're come to see a wretched Pair  
Of Ormonds' Issue leave this fatal World.  
Shall we not meet, and take our last Farewell?  North. 
Norris, my Lord, is now upon the Scaffold.  
Then your turn follows; but before that time,  
I guess the Queen will be prepared, and come.  Roch. 
Forgive me, heaven, my Passion, and my Crime,  
For nature's choice of a wrong, fatal Object,  
Loving too well, what in effect was ill.  
O all you strict Idolaters of Beauty!  
You fond, severe Adorers of that Sex,  
Who think that all their Vices cannot centre  
In one vile woman's Breast; see, and repent!  
Behold 'em all together  
In the Infernal Blunt, in Her they're fixed.  
Thus have they all been cursed, and thus they all  
Have been betrayed, that loved so well as I.  Enter Queen going to Execution all in White: Diana, Women in Mourning; Guards. Queen. 
Come, where are those must lead me to my Fate?  
To a more Glorious, Happy marriagebed,  
And my Eternal Coronation Day—  
What, Piercy's Father! must he do the Office?  
Still I can bear it all, and bear it bravely.  North. 
Madam! it is the King's severe Command,  
That I attend your Majesty to th' Scaffold.  Queen. 
Enough, my Lord, you might have spared that Title:  
Alas! I wish it ever had been spared—  
I should have been, if Malice had not reigned,  
Your Piercy's Wife, the Scope of my Ambition:  
I ne'er had then been mounted to a Throne;  
Then this unhappy hour had never been.  Roch. 
Mind this you Rocky World, and mourn in Chaos.  
Such Words as these the heavens must weep to hear,  
And make yond Marble Roof dissolve in Tears.  Queen. 
What! do you Weep? to see your Mistress Glory!  
That she shall straight wipe off the Stain on Earth  
She bears, with an unspotted Fame in heaven?  
I charge you, by my hopes, and by your hopes,  
When you are going where I soon shall go;  
By the Illustrious Pomp I long to meet,  
The Sacred, Just Rewards of injured Truth;  
Acquaint this Noble Lord, and all here present,  
If e'er you saw in all my Nights, or Days,  
Or in my loser Hours of Mirth or Humour,  
The smallest sign of that most horrid gild  
That I'm condemned for?— Why, are you all dumb?  
If you are loath to tell it whilst I live,  
Proclaim it when I'm dead, to all the World,  
That heaven may bar the Gates of Bliss against me,  
And throw me to the blackest of hell's Dungeons,  
Where all Dissemblers at their Death shall howl.  Wom. 
Alas! most Gracious Mistress, none can wish  
Themselves more Innocent for Death than you.  Queen. 
What dost thou weep, unhappy Brother too!  
Oh show me not suspected, nor thyself  
So Guilty, by such softness— Learn of me!  
This Breast that's petrified by constant Woes!  
By all my Wrongs, m'Injustice, and my Cause,  
Who sees me weep, they shall be tears of Joy.  
Who grieves to leave the World, shall never come  
Where I am going, where all sorrow's banished.  Roch. 
Tho'I am innocent, my Fate is not;  
'Tis that has been unjust to thee and me.  Queen. 
Tho' 'tis a Common, 'tis a fatal sign,  
We weep when we are born: but it was  
More ominous, and much more fatal proved,  
From these prophetic Eyes there gushed a shower,  
When Harry gave his Faithless hand to me;  
And on my Coronation day the like,  
My bodeing Heart another Tribute racked,  
Methought there sat a Mountain on my Head,  
The Curses of wronged Katherine weighed me down;  
And made my Crown indeed a Masley Crown.  Roch. 
Deny me not a little tender Grief,  
For every drop of Blood that's to be shed,  
Of that inestimable Mass of thine,  
My Soul must rack a thousand years in Hell.  Queen. 
Forbear such words— You have not injured me!  
I might as well tax Providence, as you:  
For heaven, that heard the Perjury of Villains,  
Might, if it pleased, have choked 'em with its Thunder,  
Or sent 'em with a Lightning blast to Hell!  
But he has bend their Rage another way, [One whispers North.  
And on their Malice we shall safely mount,  
As on a Cherubin to heaven.  North. 
My Lord,  
You must prepare; a Messenger is come,  
Who brings the News that Norris is beheaded.  Queen. 
Alas! unhappy Norris! art thou dead?  
Yet why do I so much wrong to pity thee?  
Thou'rt happier by some moments now than i  Roch. 
Come! lead me to my rest, my rest from wrongs.  
Now, Anna Bullen, teach me all thy Courage;  
Thy Innocence, that makes the heavens amazed:  
And the more guilty Angels blush to see.  
Help me to pass this Rubicon of Parting,  
This midway gulf that hangs 'twixt Earth and Sky!  
Then that blessed Region, all beyond is mine,  
And Caesar was not half so great as I.  Queen. 
Go! be a lucky Harbinger for me;  
Tell all the Saints, and Cherubins, and Martyrs,  
Tell all the wronged, that now are righted there,  
Till it shall reach the high, Imperial Ear,  
That Anna Bullen is a coming straight.  Roch. 
Wilt not embrace thy dying Brother first?  
One Father and one Mother gave us Birth;  
And one chaste, Innocent nature's Bed enclosed us—  
These are our Parents Arms, and so are thine.  
Then all you Saints above, and Men below,  
Bear Witness, and I vow it on my Death,  
It is the greatest, first, and only favour  
I e'er received from Anna Boulogne's Person.  Queen. 
In spite of Scandal, Malice, and the World;  
Nay, were the King and our vile Judges by,  
Since heaven is satisfied it is no Sin;  
I will embrace thee, think I've in my Arms,  
Both Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, all;  
And Envy cannot blame me now for this.  Roch. 
Thus, let thy Soul into my Bosom fly;  
That I may feel the stroke of Death for thee;  
And when the fatal axe hangs o'er thy Head,  
O may it full Thee, and not strike thee dead;  
Softer than infant's Dreams, or with less pain,  
Than 'tis to sleep, or to be born again—  [Ex. Roch. to Execution. Queen. 
So, this is past and vanquished! but behold  
A greater yet— Now I begin to dread—  Enter Diana, with the young Princess, and Women. 
Ah kind Diana, wonderful and good!  
The pity that thou show'st thy dying Friend,  
This little one, I hope, will live to pay.  Dian. 
Ah Royal Mistress! England's falling Star!  
Best Pattern that e'er Earth received from heaven—  
I need not fear these Eyes should see you die.  
For e'er that time, just grief shall-strike me dead;  
Or Torrents of these Tears will make me blind.  Queen. 
Come, lift her to my Arms, and let me kiss her,  
For'tis the last kind Office you will do me.  
Now let me press thy little Coral-Lips  
With my dead pale ones now! and oh let me  
Infuse some of thy mother's latest Breath,  
In Blessings on thy tender, blooming Soul—  
What's this that tempts me with a mother's Fondness!  
To break my Resolution, and upbraids me,  
That I must leave thee to a Father's Rage,  
And yet more cruel Enemies to both?  
Leave thee a Lamb, amongst Wolves; for all who've been  
Thy mother's Foes will certainly be thine.  Dian. 
Tigers, nor Devils! or what's more inhuman;  
Envy of Mankind cannot be so cursed.  Queen. 
See, see Diana! by my Wrongs it weeps,  
Weeps like a thing of Sense, and not a Child;  
Like one well understood in Grief; the Tears  
Drop sensibly in order down its Cheeks;  
And drowns its pretty Speech in thoughtful Sorrow.  
Nothing could shoot Infection through my Breast,  
But this; and this has done it—  
Why weeps my Child? Ah, what a Question's that!  upon. 
Behold! how't strives, and betwixt Tears and Throbs,  
If it could form a Language, it would speak.  Queen. 
Strive not for Words, my Child; these little drops  
Are far more Eloquent than Speech can be—  
Be pitiful, my Lord; and thou, my kind  
Diana, ever faithful to thy Queen;  
When I am dead, as shortly I shall be,  
Take this poor Babe, and carry't to the King;  
Its Lips just pregnant with its Mother's Fondness,  
Perhaps he'll take her then into his Arms;  
And tho' the favour were to me denied;  
Steal there a Kiss of mine.  
Say, 'tis the last Request of Anna Bullen—  North. 
Remove the little Princess  
To her Apartment, where we straight will come.  
And wait on her, as is the Queen's Command.  Queen. 
Yet let me hold her but a moment longer,  
And with this Kiss, that now must be my last,  
Unlock a Secret, which heaven dictates to me.  
If e'er there is a Light that does transcend  
Dark, humane Knowledge in the Breast of Man,  
Fate to foresee, there is a Light at Death,  
And that now bids me speak. Thou, little Child,  
Shalt live to see thy Mother's Wrongs o'er paid  
In many Blessings on thy woman's State.  
From this dark Calumny, in which I set,  
As in a Cloud; thou, like a Star, shalt rise,  
And awe the Southern World: That holy Tyrant,  
Who binds all Europe with the yoke of Conscience,  
Holding his Feet upon the Necks of Kings;  
Thou shalt destroy, and quite unloose his Bonds,  
And lay the Monster trembling at thy Feet.  
When this shall come to pass, the World shall see  
Thy mother's Innocence revived in thee.  [Ex. Women with the Princess Eliz. North. 
Madam! with greater pain to me than Racks,  
I'm forced to let you know your Brother's dead:  
And that, alas! you must prepare.  Queen. 
My Lord!  
I thank you, you mistake your noble Office;  
It is the Voice of Angels to wronged Martyrs;  
The sound of Cherubs trumpetting from heaven—  
I've heard it said, amongst our many Ends,  
Beheading is the mildest Death of any.  
If it be so; I thank my Gracious Lord:  
For I was never used to pain— How say you?  North. 
We cannot wish you less, since you're to die.  
And if the headsman do as he's commanded,  
'Twill be no more, than 'tis to drop asleep.  Queen. 
My Lord, I've but a little Neck;  
Therefore I hope he'll not repeat his Blow;  
But do it, like an Artist, at one stroke.  North. 
There is no fear. He has particular Order.  Queen. 
Then let me go; heaven chides my fond delay—  
But tell the King, I say it as I just  
Am going to die; I both forgive, and bless him,  
And thank him as my kindest Benefactor—  
First from an humble Maid he lifted me  
To Honour; then he took me to his Bed,  
The highest State that I could be on Earth;  
And now, as if he thought he ne'er could do  
Enough for me, has mounted me to heaven—  North. 
Mr. Lieutenant on, and lead the way.  Queen. 
If 'tis no Sin to skip one moment now  
Of what belongs to heaven; let me remember  
Poor Piercy once— Here, take this Innocent Kiss,  
A Token to you both— 'Tis thine and his—  
Farewell! Diana. Farewell to you all.  Dian. 
A long farewell to all our sex's Glory.  Queen. 
Weep not for me; but hear my dying Sentence.  
Any that shall hereafter fall like me.  
Falsely accused by wicked Men and traitors;  
Tho' in this World you're great, in Virtue strong;  
Never Blaspheme, and say that heaven does wrong;  
Nor think an undeserved Death is hard;  
For Innocence is still its own Reward.  
And when th' Almighty makes a Saint, sometimes  
He acts by Contraries, and Villains Crimes,  
Whilst thus, their Malice always cheated is,  
And leads us but the nearest way to Bliss.  [Exit Queen to Execution, with Northumberland and Guards. Enter Piercy alone. Pier. 
I dread the horrid deed is done, or now  
A doing, else what means this sudden Gloom  
Clad o'er the Morning Sky, and all Mankind:  
All pass with Horror by, with frighted Looks and Voice  
Lift up to Heaven, who sees and hears in vain;  
Then shake their melancholy heads like Time:  
A general Consternation seizes all,  
As if the Universal Empress of the World,  
Nature itself, were fled with Anna Bullen—  Enter a Gentleman with a Hanckerchief stained with the Queens Blood. 
Hast thou beheld this great Eclipse of Virtue?  
Speak, is the Queen Beheaded? Hast thou done  
As I commanded?  Gent. 
Sir, when the fatal blow I saw performed,  
Swift as a whirlwind, through the Crowd I rushed,  
And, as the Blood from their rich Vessels drained,  
This linen with the Sacred Crimson stained.  Pier. 
Give't me! and leave me to myself a moment.  
Now Sacred Drops, now Heavenly Nectar, first  
I'll kiss, then pledge you with a Dying Thirst—  
What's this! I feel my Soul beat at my Wound,  
And bid me to remember now's the time;  
Now to let out Life's Navigable Stream,  
And mix it with this most Celestial Flood,  
Thus, as kind Rivers to their Ocean run.  
First I'll descend by just degrees to Earth,  
Thus on my Knees, and wing my Soul to Heaven, [knelt.  
Where Anna Bullen waits her Piercy's coming;  
And with this Bloody Sign the powers implore,  
Like a poor Wretch, shipwrecked on some Lone-shoar,  
Who spies a Sail far off, waves 'em his Hand  
To come, and waft him from the Barren landlord.  Enter Diana. 
Behold the good Diana— By those Tears,  
Something of horror 'tis thou hast to say.  Dian. 
Alas! my Lord, what have you done?  
Your Wound does bleed afresh!  
Your Looks are altered! all those Masculine Beauties,  
That shone in your Illustrious Face, and made  
The noblest brave epitome of Mankind,  
Are vanished on a sudden, and you hang  
Like a pale carcase on my trembling Arms—  
Ha! let me run and call for help— I'll fetch  
Your Father, fetch the King. Quick, let me go—  Pier. 
O Bear me to some horrid desert rather,  
Where naught but tigers, Wolves, and Panthers breed,  
They are more merciful than King or Parent.  
I feel, like the wronged Patriarch, a desire  
To do some fatal Mischief with my End.  
Stand by me; and Correct me with thy Virtue,  
Else I shall lose the Duty of a Son,  
And Subject; do a rashness to be famed for,  
Pull down a shower of Curses on the Heads  
Of this Philistim-King, and Cruel Father.  Dian. 
Still, still your looks grow Paler, and your strength  
Decays! Oh let me call some help. Who's there?  Pier. 
Grief, like a subtle Limbeck, by degrees,  
With still Dissusion quite dissolves my heart,  
And steals by drops my Blood and Spirits away.  
But first Diana, I'll be just to thee—  
I doubt if I have strength to rise again—  [She raises him upon his Knees. 
My Father made me Vow to be your Husband;  
If I here die— I kneel that you'd forgive me;  
But if I live, I'll keep my Promise to you.  Dian. 
You Faint, you Sink, you Die; some Creature help—  Pier. 
Go, strive to Lave the Water of the Sea,  
And Quench the burning Aetna, 'tis in vain,  
And so are Esculapius Remedies to me—  
Look, seest thou this, as long as I have this,  [shows the Handkerchief. 
This here, to waft me o'er death's dreadful Main,  
I need no Sword, no Poison, nor no Pain.  Dian. 
What's that I see? Your Blood? Your vital Blood!  Pier. 
Yes! Of a Heart far Dearer than my own.  
Now, now my Blood, my Crowd of Spirits, all  
Rush to behold, and with their Standard fall.  Dian. 
Why stand I here, like Marble made of Woe,  
And run not for the Cure of both our Lives?  
For should I stay, I shall betray my Love  
In dying with him.  [Exit Diana Running. Pier. 
Thus when the Generous lion sees the Blood  
Of his once Royal Master shed like this;  
Taking the Lawn, stained with Imperial Gore,  
At first he Frowns, and then gins to Roar.  
Lashes his Sides; his Fiery eyeballs rolls,  
and with his awful Voice Revenge he calls;  
Till finding no Relief, at length He's mute,  
And Weeps, Tears falling from the Kingly bruit;  
Then gently on it, as his deathbed lies,  
And with a Groan, breaks his stout Heart, and Dies.  [Dies. Enter Northumberland, and Gentlemen. Gentl. 
He's dead! Alas, He's dead! W''re come too late!  North. 
Here let me fix till my Gray-Hairs shall rot,  
Or turn to Snakes, to Plague this Aged Head;  
And never more be looked on to upbraid me!  
This is a Punishment for what my Eyes  
Unpitying saw; and now I feel, dear Piercy,  
Thy Father's Curses on his own Head turn,  
And thou art blessed, and I alas, forlorn.  Enter King, Lords, Attendants, and Guards. King. 
Whom mournest thou over? Whose dead Body's that?  North. 
'Tis Piercy's: You and all good Men should weep,  
For you have lost a faithful Queen, and I a son.  King. 
Thy Tongue's too bold! Are all the Traitors dead?  North. 
Norris, and Rochfort, and th'unhappy Queen,  
Were all Beheaded in one Fatal Hour;  
Yet all the Traitors are not dead.  King. 
What meanest thou?  
Say! Who has scaped?  North. 
The Haughty Blunt, decked with  
Her proudest Ornaments of Gold and Jewels,  
Came to behold their Ends upon the Scaffold,  
And saw 'em with a Hellish Cruelty;  
Till Anna Boulogne's Head lopped from her Body;  
The brightest Ornament of that Person fell  
Upon that wretched woman's Knees, as She  
Was sitting to behold the Dismal sight:  
The Trunkless Head with darting Eyes beheld her,  
Making a motion with its Lips to speak,  
As if they meant t'upbraid her Cursed Treason.  
When straight the dreadful Accident so struck her,  
Swift as a Hind she gave a leap, and with  
A sudden shriek, she started into Madness,  
So sierce, that just and speedy Death must follow;  
Then uttering strange, and horrid Guilty Speeches,  
In her distraction she accused herself,  
And Woolsey: talked the Queen was Innocent;  
Saying, the Letters found within her Closet  
Were false, and placed by them to ruin Her:  
For which her Cruel Ghost, she said, did haunt her.  King. 
Where is the Traitor Woolsey?  North. 
Fled to Esher.  King. 
Go you in Person, and secure the Villain!  
Many foul Causes claim his forfeit Life;  
But if I find him Guilty in the least,  
Of a Contrivance with this Cursed Woman;  
(Though the Queen justly merited her End)  
I'll Rack his Soul out with a thousand Tortures.  North. 
'Twill be some joy to my Revenge and Piercy's.  King. 
For thy son's Death, thy King shall be a Mourner▪  
Now heaven vouchsafe to Pardon till this time,  
What I by Sycophants Advice have done,  
I will be Absolute, and Reign alone:  
For where's a Statesman famed for just and wise;  
But makes our Failings, still, his aim to Rise?  
If Subjects thus their monarch's Wills restrain;  
'Tis they are Kings; for them we idly Reign:  
Then I'll first break the yoke; this Maxim still  
shall be my Guide (A Prince can do no Ill!)  
In spite of Slaves, his Genius let him trust;  
For heaven ne'er made a King, but made him just.  [Exeunt omnes..  

EPILOGUE.  

WEll, Sirs!-Your kind Opinion now, I pray,  
Of this our neither Whig nor Tory-Play;  
To blow such coals our Conscious Muse denies;  
Wit, Sacred Wit, such Subjects should despise.  
The Author says his Heliconian stream,  
Is not yet drained to such a low extreme.  
To abuse one Party with a Cursed Play,  
And Bribe the other for a large third Day.  
Like Gladiators then, you straight resort;  
And Crowd to make your Nero-Faction sport.  
But what's more strange, that Men of sense should do it!  
For Worrying one another, Pay the Poet:  
So Butchers at a Baiting, take delight,  
For him that keeps the Bears, to Roar and Fight;  
Both Friends and Foes, such Authors make their Game,  
Who have your Money, that was all their aim:  
No matter for the Play, nor for their Wit;  
The better Farce is Acted in the Pit.  
Both Parties to be cheated, well agree;  
And swallow any Nonsense, so it be  
With Faction faced, and guilt with Loyalty.  
Here's such a Rout with Whigging and with Torying,  
That you neglect your dear-loved sin of Whoring:  
The Visor-mask, that ventured her Half-Crown,  
Finding no hopes but here to be undone;  
Like a Cast Mistress, past her dear-delight,  
Turns Godly straight, and goes to Church in spite;  
And does not doubt, since you are grown so fickle,  
To find more Cullies in a Conventicle.  
We on the Stage stand still, and are content,  
To see you Act what we should Represent.  
You use us like the Women that you Woe;  
You make us sport, and Pay us for it too.  
Well, we're resolved that in our next Play-Bill,  
To Print at large a trial of your skill;  
And that five hundred Monsters are to fight,  
Then more will run to see so strange a sight,  
Than the Morocco, or the Muscovite.   
FINIS.