Fatal Friendship. A TRAGEDY.  
As it is Acted at the NEW-THEATRE IN Little-Lincolns-Inn-Fields.  
LONDON, Printed for Francis Saunders at the Blue-Anchor in the Lower-Walk of the New-Exchange, 1698.   

TO HER Royal Highness THE PRINCESS.  
MADAM,  
MY happy success in one bold Attempt, not only encourages but forces me to a much greater, aspiring to lay this Trifle at your Royal Highness's Feet; when a Woman appears in the World under any distinguishing Character, she must expect to be the mark of ill Nature, but most one who seems desirous to recommend herself by what the other Sex think their peculiar Prerogative. This, Madam, makes me fly to the Protection of so great a Princess, though I am sensible so high an Honour must raise me many more Enemies, making me indeed worthy of Envy, which I am but too well secured from in myself (though an undertaking so few of my Sex, have ventured at, may draw some Malice on me) but 'tis my happiness that the thing which will most reasonably make me the object of Enmity, will be my safety against the effects of it. What insolence dare injure one they find in your Royal Presence, and under your Illustrious Patronage?  
Nor need your Highness' disdain to look Favourably down upon this humble Present; though I have hitherto seemed to offer it only for my own security, I may say it in some measure merits your regard, though the performance much unworthy of it, its End is the most noble, to discourage Vice, and recommend a firm unshaken Virtue; that must receive your Royal highness's Approbation, since 'tis the same Great design as that of your own Admirable Life, but with what disadvantage imitated! how must I Blush for the Copy when I cast my Eyes upon such an Excellent Original!  
But here permit me, Madam, to decline attempting your Encomium, as a mark both of the most profound respect, and highest Admiration, best expressed by an awful silence, which confesses you above all Praise; but were it possible for some Nobler Pen to reach the height of your Perfections, the Work would be Superfluous, since they need not even the Lustre of your Rank to make 'em conspicuous to the World, or to engage Mankind in your Service; nor be offended, most Illustrious Princess, if I say, 'tis they more even than your Royal Birth, make me Ambitious with all Submissive Duty, to be allowed the Title of  
Your Royal Highness's Most humbly devoted, Most Obedient Servant, Catharine Trotter.   

TO THE AUTHOR, ON HER Tragedy, called Fatal Friendship.  
GReat Sapph, with some few that shared her Glory,  
Kept the bright Character they had in Story,  
With doubted right; till after-ages came;  
By fair examples to assert their Fame:  
As when the tribute of our praise we give,  
They by your worth to endless Fame Survive:  
Nor can I silently my thoughts delay,  
The joys too exquisite, and will have way;  
Tho' greatest Beauties, less in praise appear,  
'Tis hard, to see, be charmed, and not cry out she's Fair:  
Your Play with an exalted Genius shines,  
And charming numbers every thought refines;  
But sure thy mind was meant the Court of Love,  
Soft as the joys that yielding Virgins move;  
There every Grace does to thy Pen repair,  
Firing the Brave, melting the rigid Fair;  
Nor less in Honour's School hast thou been read,  
Thy Men with equal steps, the tract of glory tread;  
As when some Master-Hand a Cupid draws,  
With pointed Arrow in a Lover's cause;  
On th' other side a Mars with many grace,  
Expressing right and Victory in his Face;  
The sporting Fair who now despised his art,  
Feels from the shadow a resistless dart;  
And He—  
Who for inglorious ease could Fame forego,  
Roused at the sight starts forward to the Foe:  
Nor does thy rules for Life alone excel,  
You've taught the harder task of dying well;  
Safe from the gingling folly of our time,  
Whose Heroes die in simile and rhyme  
'Tis thus you may support the sinking Stage,  
Thus learn the Scribblers that infect this Age;  
To Mourn how Nature stinted their poor lot  
And leave for humbler arts their Plays and Plot:  
Let Congreve, Granvile, and the few who yet,  
Support the credit of our Poet's Wit;  
With you the Empire of the Stage maintain,  
Nor suffer Fools so oft t' usurp your reign;  
Then perfect Plays would perfect joys inspire,  
Touch to the Soul, and waken dead desire:  
Deny each chattering Ape his fancied part,  
And teach us to revere your Sacred Art.  P. Harman.  

To my much Esteemed Friend On her PLAY called FATAL-FRIENDSHIP.  
WIth what Concern I sat and heard your Play,  
None else can judge, but such a Friend sure may.  
The Indian Mother could not feel more pain,  
Whose Newborn Babe's thrown headlong in the Main,  
To prove him lawful: at whose welcome Rise  
(Her fears dispersed) joy gushes at her Eyes.  
Were I but judge enough I'd do thee Right,  
Though yet much more, I want Poetic flight,  
And 'twere his folly to repeat a new  
Who light a Taper the bright Sun to show,  
should I attempt your Praise, but as a Friend,  
T' Express my thoughts, is all that I Intent.  
Your fable's clear, no rule you have transgressed,  
chaste all your thoughts, yet Nature still expressed,  
Your numbers flow, as if the Muses all  
Consulted nothing, but their Rise, and fall,  
Your Characters are just, and with such art  
Your Passions raised, they gain th' unwary heart,  
And what you feign, effectually Create,  
Who was unmoved, at sad Felicia's Fate?  
Scarce could the stubbornest deny their Tears,  
All felt your Hero's miseries, as theirs,  
But as a faithful Friend, he touched me most;  
By life's most noble, best of blessings, lost;  
O Heaven, this my fondest wish Decree!  
Our mutual Friendship, may ne'er Fatal be.   

TO THE AUTHOR OF FATAL-FRIENDSHIP.  
THe famed Orinda's, and Astrea's Lays,  
With never dying Wit, blessed Charles's Days,  
And we supposed Wit could no higher rise,  
Till you succeeding, Tear from them the Prize,  
More Just Applause is yours who check the Rage,  
Of Reigning Vice, that has debauched the Stage,  
And dare show Virtue in a vicious Age;  
With Eager wishing Eyes the Day we sought,  
When to its first Design the Drama might be brought,  
Now an unusual Charm our Hearts has seized,  
For we at once both profit, and are pleased;  
And you may boast, that by your skilful Hand,  
You've done what Senates did in Vain Command:  
For such Examples bear a mighty sway,  
Since none in vicious Paths will choose to stray,  
When Wit, and Beauty join to lead in Virtue's way.   

To the Ingenious AUTHOR, ON HER Tragedy, called Fatal Friendship. Sent by an Unknown Hand.  
AS when Camilla once, a Warlike Dame  
In bloody Battles won immortal Fame;  
Forsook her Female Arts, and chose to bear  
The ponderous Shield, and heave the massy Spear,  
Superior to her Sex; so swift she flew  
Around the Field, and such vast Numbers slew,  
That Friends and Foes alike surprised behold  
The brave Virago desperately Bold,  
And thought her Pallas in a human Mould.  
Such is our Wonder, matchless Maid! to see  
The Tragic Laurel thus deserved by thee.  
Yet greater Praise is yours; Camilla shines  
For ever bright in Virgil's Sacred Lines,  
You in your own;— where to the World's last Date  
You shall survive, and Triumph over Fate;  
Nor need you to another's Bounty one  
For what yourself can on yourself bestow.  
So Monarchs in full Health were wont to rear  
At their own charge, their future Sepulchre.  
Who thy Perfections fully would commend  
Must think how others do their Hours misspend,  
In Trifling Visits, Pride, Impertinence  
Dress, Dancing, and Discourse quite void of Sense.  
To twirl a Fan, to please some foolish Beau,  
And sing an empty Song the most they know,  
In Body weak, more Impotent of mind—  
Thus some have represented Womankind;  
But you your Sex's Champion are come forth  
To fight their Quarrel, and assert their Worth.  
Our Salic Law of Wit you have destroyed,  
Established Female Claim, and Triumphed o'er our Pride;  
While We look on, and with repining Eyes  
Behold you bearing off so rich a Prize,  
Spite of Ill-Nature we're compelled t' approve  
Such dazzling Worth, and spite of Envy love.  
Nor is this all th' applause that is your Due;  
You stand the first of Stage-Reformers too.  
No Vicious Stains pollute your moral Scene;  
chaste are your Thoughts, and your Expression clean.  
Strains such as yours the strictest Test will bear:  
Sing boldly then! nor busy Censure fear;  
Your Virgin Voice offends no Virgin Ear.  
Proceed, in Tragic Numbers to disclose  
Strange Turns of Fate, and unexpected Woes!  
Reward and punish; awfully dispense  
heavens' judgements, and declare a Providence!  
Nor let the Comic Muse your Labours share;  
'Tis Meaness after this the Sock to wear.  
Tho' that too merit Praise, 'tis nobler Toil  
T' extort a Tear, than to provoke a Smile.  
What Hand that can design a History  
Would Copy Low-Land Boors at Snick a Snee?  
Accept this Tribute Madam! and excuse  
The hasty Raptures of a Stranger-Muse.   

PROLOGUE, Written by Mr Harman, and spoke by Mr Bowen.  
Your Servant Sirs,  
COnscious of many favours from the Town,  
And that he poorly pays who does but own,  
I'm come to save each of you half a Crown.  
(Our Author truly would invite your stay,  
And if you will be all such Fools you may, 
To the side Boxes.   
There's some are wiser, and will walk away.  
For I who have heard the tale within can tell ye  
A worse disaster never yet befell ye;  
A Critic yonder has been stating Rules,  
To gain the Wise, and scorn the Herd of Fools;  
To which 'twas said, one Friend would raise ten Foes,  
And that's too dear as common Friendship goes;  
Success with both is found no human task;  
Who please the Boxes will affront the Mask;  
To Charm, and to instructs too great a trouble,  
'Tis hard for Pegasus to carry double.  
I argued much to entertain the Fools,  
They are the Poets and the Player's Tools.  
Are sown so thick o'er Gallery, Box, and Pit,  
Can give success without the help of Wit;  
For one Grimace more favour will dispense,  
Than for whole Scenes that boast of stricter sense;  
Even I by help of Band and cropped disguise,  
Can reach your hearts as Love does through your Eyes;  
Well the Fool's Coat, the Fool's defect supplies.  
But still Poetic Fate attends the Muse,  
This thriving Council did our Fool refuse,  
She'd please no Crambo Critic, with dull Chime,  
Preferring sense, even to engaging Rhyme;  
Nor little Lord who still affects to be  
Learned in the knacks of visiting Gallantry.  
With scraps of Scandal, and Pert Repartee.  
On ruin bent I left her to her Fate,  
And stole to warn you for what treat you sat.  
If to the Wits alone our Plays are Writ,  
And Authors will allow so few have Wit,  
Why should they grumble at an Empty Pit.  
Since I have been thus frankly dealing now,  
But one request for my dear sake allow.  
With Crowded Benches we shall grace our Play,  
If each who thinks himself a Wit will stay.   

The Persons Represented.  

MEN.  COunt Roquelaure. 
Mr. Kynaston.  Gramont, His younger Son. 
Mr. Betterton.  Castalio, Gramont's Friend. 
Mr. Verbruggen.  Bellgard, Brother to Felicia. 
Mr. Thurmond.  Bernardo, a Neapolitan, an Officer under Castalio. 
Mr. Arnold.   

WOMEN.  Lamira, A young Widow. 
Mrs. Barry.  Felicia, Privately married to Gramont. 
Mrs. Bracegirdle.  Marian, Woman to Lamira. 
Mrs. Martin.  A Soldier, and Servants. 
   

THE Fatal Friendship.  


ACT I. SCENE I.  Enter Bellgard and Felicia. Bell. 
FElicia, You are young, and full of hopes,  
Unknowing how the World will disappoint 'em,  
But I have seen such strange unlooked for Chances,  
Such fatal blasts to blooming expectations,  
As teaches me judiciously to fear,  
And cautiously advise; Can I remember  
Our Noble Family in dazzling Splendours,  
As Rich, as Ancient, made the mark of Envy,  
Now (by an Enemies successful Faction  
Maliciously unjust) without regard,  
Reduced so low, that I (the only left,  
To keep our name from falling with our Fortune)  
Have but sufficient means, with thrifty care,  
Just to preserve you, and your infant Sisters,  
From asking help at charitable Hands,  
Can I consider this,  
And not use all a Brother's interest in you  
To move you to embrace a happy offer,  
To place you sure in that exalted rank  
Which both by Birth, and Merit is your due.  Feli, 
You have so dear an interest in my Heart,  
That tho' you had not all Authority,  
Yet ever where I could Control myself,  
You still should govern me; but oh my Brother,  
There is a strong reluctance in my Soul,  
Which to myself denies me my consent,  
For this unequal match.  Bell. 
'Tis true the Count Roquelaure has not the Charms of Youth,  
But then consider he's without their faults;  
I've weighed it for you with a Brother's Love,  
and find the youthful balance far the lighter;  
Marriage requires a steady, ripened virtue,  
Judgement to choose, solidity to fix,  
Prudence to govern, all by experience perfected.  Feli. 
'Tis not the Counts grave years makes me abhor the Match,  
But some more secret cause, yet to myself unknown,  Bell. 
Sister I fear you know the cause too well,  
He's Father to Gramont; Ha? that conscious blush  
Confesses I have guessed it,  
A shameful Witness of your Childish passion;  
Is it not time throw away the Toy's  
You cried for when a Girl?  Fel. 
Forgive me an involuntary fault,  
Love took possession of my infant Heart,  
Grew up with me a dear, familiar Guest,  
And now refuses to remove his Seat.  Bell. 
Reason must dispossess him.  Fel. 
Could reason tell me I had placed my Love  
On a vile Object; half the work were done,  
But you have owned he merits all your friendship,  
Nay, 'twas your fondness for him, first raised mine,  
And all that can be offered now against him,  
Amounts to this, that he's a younger Brother,  
Whose fortune is injurious to his Worth.  Bell. 
Could yours repair the wrong his fortune does him;  
I would with joy bestow you to your wishes,  
But am too fond, too tender of you both,  
To give consent that you should Starve together;  
For shame Felicia, let not passion sway you  
Thus to your ruin,  
I have till now given way to all your folly,  
In hopes that time, and absence would destroy it.  
Nor ever pressed you to a second choice  
These full two years since first I knew your Loves,  
And made Gramont, forbear to visit you,  
But must no longer thus indulge your weakness.  Fel. 
If for two years I have forborn to see him,  
Is not that sacrifice sufficient from a Sister?  
Must I be made the next to one I hate?  
You cannot be so cruel, do but defer it,  
Who knows the turns of fortune?  
You have seen you say a fatal one in ours,  
Why may not those who now are at the lowest,  
By some more happy chance, be raised as high?  Bell. 
There's not a ground to hope for young Gramont;  
He meant to raise his fortune as a Soldier,  
And might have reached the Noblest height in War,  
Had not that fatal quarrel, in which he killed  
The General's only Son, soon stopped his Progress,  
In whose revengeful Father, he will find  
An Enemy, as powerful at Court,  
As in the Army.  Fel. 
'Twas well he 'scap'd with Life.  Bell. 
For the security of the Survivor,  
They would not fight in France;  
And yet the General at his return  
By Arbitrary Law, condemned, and would have shot him,  
Had not his Noble Friend the brave Castalio  
Charged on his guard, freed him and kept the fight  
Till he escaped in safety.  Fel. 
For which may he or never need, or always find a Friend. Aside.  Bell. 
You see the desperate State of his affairs,  
Therefore be Wise, and Tempt not your ill Fate;  
Either resolve to marry Count Roquelaure;  
Or share a beggar's Fortune with his Son.  Fel. 
Why would you force me to a wretched choice?  
You have been hitherto a Parent to me,  
How am I grown so burdensome a charge;  
That you would cast me from you, tho' to ruin?  Bell. 
I would prevent your ruin and my own;  
And if you'd have me still a Parent to you,  
I shall expect th' obedience of a Daughter,  
Or else by Heaven, I'll turn you to your Lover. Exit Bellgard.  Fel. 
Then I must Perish with him; Alas my Brother  
Thou little think'st to what thou dost persuade me;  
My Husband's Father? O my Barbarous Stars!  
For sure Love could not shoot so cross a Dart:  
What's to be done? should I confess our Marriage?  
O no his fiery Temper could not brook it!  
And how would my Gramont's harsh Father use him. Enter Gramont.  
Oh he is sent by Heaven to my relief!  
My dear Gramont!  Gra. 
My dearest Wife, what sadness hangs upon thee?  
Am I not welcome to those weeping Eyes?  Fel. 
More than the light; but they have cause to weep  
For you, and me, and for our helpless infant;  
My Brother has been pleading for your Father,  
Threatens if I refuse to Marry him,  
To throw me as a stranger from his Care.  Gar. 
My poor Felicia, what thou bearest for me?  
How shall I recompense thy suffering virtue?  
O what a line of woes I fixed thee to  
When Hymen drew the knot!  Fel. 
Do you repent that knot?  Gra. 
By Heaven, my Love, I cannot.  Fel. 
Then I am happy.  Gra. 
Nothing is so that's placed within my fate,  
A Wretch but born to scatter Miseries,  
On all whom Love brings near enough to reach 'em.  Fel. 
Have you received no News yet of our Child?  Gra. 
None for this full three Weeks, which much concerns me;  
But I have sent a Messenger express  
To learn its health, who will return this day.  Fel. 
Heaven guard the tender Babe.  Gra. 
Oh my Heart bleeds for that dear part of me,  
Now I am Lost to all my hopes of Fortune,  
Precariously depending on my Father,  
How may it be exposed to wants, and Cares,  
Farewell, my Dear, I must not stay with thee,  
To morrow we will give some hours to Love,  
Where shall I see you?  Fel. 
Here if you please, my Brother will be early out.  Gra. 
I will not fail.  Fel. 
Let it be early then you bring me joy,  
And I have need of it.  Gra. 
Impatient wishes  
Eager as in our first soft stealths of Love,  
Will keep me waking till the Longed for hour.  Fel. 
But how my dearest dared you venture now?  Gra. 
I met your Brother going to Lamira's,  
And took the advantage just to steal a Look,  
And beg the dear appointment for to morrow,  
He expects me there, where he imagines I design  
To make Addresses, being a Young, Rich, Widow,  
But thou art all the Treasure I can covet.  Fel. 
My Life, you'll not forget to morrow Early.  Gra. 
Can I forget my only Happiness? Exeunt several ways,   

SCENE the Second, Lamira's House.  Enter Bellgard, and Lamira. Lam. 
You've counselled like that Friend I ever thought you,  
A Friend both to my Honour, and my Interest.  Bell. 
Not my own Honour can be dearer to me,  
With pain I see your hours of rest disturbed,  
By jealous Spies, or crowds of hoping Lovers,  
Regardless of your fame, for their own interest.  Lam. 
O how much happier and to be envied,  
Is she, whose humble Fortune enough supplying  
Nature's wants,  
Has not exposed her to the treacherous Arts,  
And false pretences of designing Men.  Bell. 
The hard conditions by which you possess  
So large a Fortune, gives you equal means  
To free yourself from those designing Lovers.  Lam. 
For which I have intended to declare  
The Secret of my Husbands jealous bounty.  Bell. 
You've prudently resolved, but why, Lamira,  
Are you regardless of Castalio's Vows?  
He Loves and seeks you for yourself alone,  
Nay when I told him you refused all offers,  
Forfeiting if you wed your best possessions,  
With eager Words, and Eyes that sparkled joy,  
Pressing me in his Arms he said, O Friend,  
How much more dear to me would such a sacrifice  
Make the adored Lamira! could I hope  
She would for me abandon all her glittering Fortune,  
To reward my Love with nobler Treasure,  
How would I then improve your King's regard for me,  
How welcome all his Bounty, and his Honours,  
To doubly recompense what she can Lose,  
And make her great beyond my own Ambition.  Lam. 
'Twas generously spoke,  
Deserving all esteem, and gratitude,  
That as a Debt his merit claims I pay  
But 'twere to Tempt ill fate, to strip myself  
Of what I now possess secure from hazard,  
To run th' uncertain Fortunes of a Stranger,  
Depending on the breath of a King's Favour,  
Which should he Lose, he'll ne'er return to Naples.  Bell. 
You've urged as an Objection, that which most  
Should recommend him, where can he be a Stranger?  
What Monarch would not cherish such a Subject?  
What Nation not be proud to 'dopt a Son so Worthy?  
He that to the last of a Large Fortune  
Supplied the Public wants, whilst there was hopes  
To free his Country from th' invading Spaniard;  
Then courted by the Conqueror, disdains  
All Obligations from his Country's Tyrant;  
But banishing himself seeks nobler refuge  
In a foreign Court;  
Still let me speak him, for he's brave in all:  
With what a modest greatness he refused  
All Honours which our King pressed his accepting,  
But what were in the Army,  
Seeming to scorn the Lazy gifts of Favour,  
As if all glories were below his virtue,  
But what in Arms he forced from unbribed Fame.  Lam. 
We have cause to bless the choice, for he is said  
To have done important service in the War.  Bell. 
The Court have styled him France's better Genius,  
The Soldiers Idolise him, and as Admired,  
He's Loved by all, unless the General,  
Who looks with Envy on his rising Fortune.  Lam. 
A Dangerous Enemy.  Bell. 
He has indeed with all a Soldiers heart;  
The Closer Malice of a Subtle Statesman,  
And the Contempt of his Authority.  
Castalio showed in forcing from the Guards  
His Friend Gramont, by him unjustly sentenced,  
I fear may rouse his hatred to revenge.  Lam. 
It was a Godlike Action; his Friendship  
For Gramont, shows he not only knows himself  
To merit, but value it in others.  Bell. 
The choice his heart here makes is the best proof of that;  
But let what you admire give softer Thoughts,  
And whisper to your heart, If for Gramont  
He could do thus, what would not Love inspire!  Lam. 
I prize it to its height, but when you'd plead  
Castalio's cause with me name not Gramont.  Bell. 
Not name him! Why is that an Obstacle.  Lam. 
No matter, nothing, 'twas a half formed Thought,  
I know not what it meant, you may speak of him.  Bell. 
Let me by any Argument prevail  
At least to know, if he has leave to hope.  Lam. 
Then think not that I wrong Castalio's worth,  
When I declare, he has not, cannot have  
An interest in my heart, I value him,  
But 'twere unjust to give him hopes of more,  
Love is not in our power.  Bell. 
Madam, I've done, tho' grieved at my success,  
Since 'tis in vain, I'll touch this Theme no more.  
You have reason now, delivered from the Tyrant  
Your Parents forced upon your tender years  
To let your heart direct your second choice.  Lam. 
O I fear the heedless partial guide,  
Would blindly Led me on some Fatal ruin.  Bell. 
Unjustly you distrust it, tell me whither,  
Where would it direct you?  
And I may better judge how faithfully.  Lam. 
Perhaps I have not ventured to consult it,  
'Tis safest not to ask, or hear advice,  
When 'tis as pleasing as 'tis dangerous.  Bell. 
True, if we can avoid it;  
But Inclination's an Officious Counsellor,  
That waits not to be asked, and will be heard;  
Tell me, Lamira, what has yours been saying?  Lam. 
Nothing.  Bell. 
Is this your Friendship? (for I would not plead  
Our Kindred Blood but a more near Alliance)  
Is this your boasted truth, and trust in me?  Lam. 
I would not hide from you,  
But what I would conceal from my own heart.  
Let me, Bellgard, yet O I fear, I fear,  
It speaks too much, and loud, not to be heard,  
And plain enough for you to understand.  Bell. 
If I have leave to guests, I think I could,  
May I interpret what your Eyes have spoke,  
And some late words confirm?  Lam. 
O my shame! in such a fruitful Harvest  
Of voluntary growth, untoiled for hearts,  
T'ave cast my own upon a barren soil  
That yields me no return.  Bell. 
You know not that, Gramont may love in secret,  
Not daring to reveal it, or hope success,  
Where he beholds the noblest Offers scorned,  
Sees mighty Fortunes every day rejected;  
Does not his late assiduous Visits, speak  
All that a Fortune low as his should dare?  Lam. 
Suppose it did, what though our hearts were one,  
If we must live at an Eternal distance?  Bell. 
What hinders you to be for ever joined?  Lam. 
Are not the Obstacles invincible?  Bell. 
Is any such to love?  Lam. 
My Husband's Will;  
And yet I could submit to his severity,  
Throw all my Titles, and my Treasure from me,  
And think Gramont too full a recompense;  
But then to see him miserably poor,  
Wretched for me, my Love could never bear it.  Bell. 
Generous and tender, all I see that's left  
For Friendship now to undertake, or hope,  
Is not to cure, but satisfy her love;  
There may be found away, both to secure  
Your happiness, and Fortune.  Lam. 
How whilst my Husband's Sister lives? you know  
I forfeit all to her, upon a second Marriage.  Bell. 
But if you keep it secret, who shall claim the forfeit?  Lam. 
How kindly you indulge my fondest wishes,  
How Carefully contrive my Happiness;  
But Alas, vainly my busy, pleased imagination,  
Has leapt at once o'er all difficulties,  
When yet the first, and greatest is unpassed,  
He does not, and perhaps will never love me.  Bell. 
Not Love you! those Eyes that with their native fires  
Scorched so many, now Love has added his,  
What heart so frozen not to feel their heat!  
Gramont, I think will presently be here,  
For so he promised, will you for a while  
Leave us together and permit me sound his Thoughts?  Lam. 
What court him for me!  Bell. 
You have not used to doubt  
The safety of your honour in my hands. Enter Marian.  Mar. 
Here's a Gentleman without to wait upon your Ladyship.  Lam. 
Admit him. If 'tis Gramont,  
I am too much disordered yet to see him,  
Make my Excuse, and, my best Friend, remember  
I trust you with the nicest, dearest parts of me,  
My Love, and Honour. Exit Lamira  Bell. 
Both shall be my care;  
Her satisfaction chiefly I regard,  
But since she's resolute against Castalio,  
This New design which way so e'er I view it,  
Gives me a pleasing prospect; Gramont I love,  
And for his interest wish it; next for Felicia's,  
Her little rest of hopes eluded thus,  
May turn her Thoughts on Search of certainties,  
And make Roquelaure appear a happy refuge.  Enter Gramont. Gra. 
Alone Bellgard, where's the fair Lamira?  Bell. 
Some small affairs detain her for the present,  
She'll not be long.  Gra. 
'Tis pity she should bear the weight of business,  
Her youth, and charms, would fit more soft Employments.  Bell. 
That youth, and Charms will well reward the Man  
Who frees her from that weight; what think you of it?  
Could you not bear the Toil, for such a Prize?  Gra. 
Nothing would seem a Toil, or difficult,  
To one that could have hopes of gaining it.  Bell. 
Prithee attempt it.  Gra. 
What vanity can make me hope success,  
When those who much excel me every way,  
In merit as in fortune, yet are slighted?  
I could have no pretence for such presumption.  Bell. 
Your noble Birth forbids that Imputation,  
And the Alliance of so great a Family  
As yours, may well be coveted;  
Lamira values you, and such Esteem,  
When Love, and youth like yours together plead,  
Is quickly raised to passion and desire.  Gra. 
If so, why are those more deserving Lovers,  
Who have with youth, charms that I want, refused?  Bell. 
You know my interest in her, perhaps the Friendship  
I've expressed for you, may've turned the balance,  
Where merit was but equal, how e'er it be,  
Not one of those who long have Languished for her,  
Does she receive with half that Complaisance,  
Or speak of in such Terms of Admiration,  
As I have heard her when your name was mentioned.  Gra. 
She fears to give encouragement to her adorers,  
Should I commence the Lover, like them I should be used.  Bell. 
Is it a Prize of such low Consequence,  
Not worth the hazarding of a refusal?  
Unless your faith already is bestowed,  
Let me engage you to it, on our Friendship.  Gra. 
My faith! I must not leave him that suspicion. Aside.  
There needs not sure so dear a Conjuration,  
To make me aim at what all France contests for,  
An ample fortune, with so bright a Beauty.  Enter Lamira. Lam. 
My blushes own me guilty of a rudeness,  
Tho', Sir, I hope my Cousin has excused me.  Bell. 
I'll leave you now to make your own Apology. Exit Bell.  Gra. 
We have been lamenting, Madam, that so long  
You have Condemned yourself to bear alone  
The painful load of Business.  Lam. 
I had rather much sustain that load for ever,  
Than seeking ease only to change my Burden  
For a much worse, and Heavier?  Gra. 
Among the many would be proud to bear it,  
Can you not find out one, on whom to throw it  
Upon easier Terms, or may I ask,  
Why you who can dispose of thousand hearts,  
Let all alike be wretched?  Lam. 
Had high ambition been my darling passion  
I had been tempted to exalt my fate,  
But my own honours bound my largest wishes,  
And fortune has not been a niggard to me;  
Therefore all pleas, but merit, unconsidered,  
My heart bestows me freely on the Man  
Whom it shall speak most Worthy.  Gra. 
What vain presumer dare pretend, or think  
To merit such a wonder? this resolution known,  
What forward lover would not cease his suit,  
In just despair of ever gaining it?  Lam. 
Either you flatter me, or are too modest;  
Whither was I going? I have observed  
The most deserving ever most distrustful  
Of their own worth, which if it be a fault;  
It is the only I've remarked in you,  
But all that diffidence, and modesty,  
Speak louder for you, than the Boasts of others.  Gra. 
Then it must speak, for you have silenced me,  
Hence forward I shall only dare to wish,  
That you were less divine, or I more worthy.  Lam. 
You're worthy all that you can dare to ask.  Gra. 
I ne'er shall dare to ask, a Prize too noble  
For any mortal aim. Exit Bowing.  Lam. 
So cold!  
Or it's the Character of awful Love?  
If so, my words were kind, and plain enough  
To chase away his fears;  
'Tis now too late, that humble way to move,  
Respect is rudeness, when we offer love. Exit Lam.    


ACT II. SCENE I.  Roquelaure's House. Enter Bellgard, and a Servant Countest the Count's. Seru. 
BE pleased to stay here, Sir,  
My Lord will wait upon you instantly;  Bell. 
You have told him I am here.  Seru. 
I did, and hear him coming. Exit Seru.  Enter Roquelaure. Roq. 
You're welcome, my Bellgard, the only Man  
That can give comfort to my tortured Heart.  Bell. 
None can be prouder, or more joyed to serve you.  Count. 
I'm just returned from visiting your Sister,  
Whom I have seen in such a graceful Sorrow,  
As heightened all her Charms, and my desire  
More than it moved my pity.  Bell. 
And how my Lord  
Has she received the honour you design her?  Count. 
With such aversion as she'd meet her fate;  
At first I found her in a solemn sadness,  
Her Eyes all Languishing, fixed on the ground,  
But roused at my approach, the flowing blood,  
Flushed to her Cheeks, yet soon again forsook 'em;  
Thus pale, and trembling, we met alike disordered,  
Tho' with such different passions, hate in her  
Produced the same effect as Love in me.  Bell. 
Hate, my Lord,  
Can you suspect her of so great injustice?  Count. 
What else can make her so inexorable?  
Upon her knees she fell, and grasping mine,  
She weeping begged me to desist my suit,  
With such engaging Action, and words so moving,  
As whilst they made me wish I could obey her,  
Deprived me of the power.  Bell. 
Stubborn Girl.  Count. 
Finding me more inflamed, and still persisting,  
She said I might expose her to your anger,  
And all the ruin you had lately threatened,  
But there was such an Obstacle in nature,  
As never would permit her to be mine.  Bell. 
So positive, my Lord, I'll make her find  
There's not an Obstacle but I can vanquish.  Count. 
I fear her early kindness for my Son,  
Which we too long neglected,  
Tho' they seem parted now, their rooted loves  
May join, and still produce fresh springing hopes.  Bell. 
Then we must strive to blast 'em; I could wish  
Gramont were married to yours, and his own liking;  
What think you of Lamira for a Daughter?  Count. 
So well, I must not think of it.  Bell. 
My Lord, I've a relations interest in her,  
And more that of a Friend, on which relying,  
I have proposed it to her, and may tell you  
She much Esteems your Son, and would be proud  
Of your alliance, which if desired by you,  
I know she'll not refuse.  Count. 
'Tis generously offered, and here he comes Enter Gramont.  
To join with me in thanks. Your looks are sad,  
My Son, is there a cause?  Gra. 
There is, my Lord, if I have any sense  
Of honour, Gratitude, or Friendship; Castalio  
Is this day brought here, a prisoner to the Castle,  
Where he is kept in chains, as he were guilty  
Of some flagitious action.  Count. 
For what is he so used?  Gra. 
For me, you know, my Lord,  
He saved my life, with hazard of his own,  
For which the General Committed him,  
And representing to the absent King  
The case as he thought fit, next had him fined,  
Three thousand Crowns, and keeps him thus secured  
Till 'tis discharged.  Bell. 
Some such mean vengeance,  
I apprehended from his barbarous nature.  Gra. 
Castalio of a generous Soul,  
Knowing no use of Wealth but to bestow  
On others wants, scarce mindful of his own,  
I know must needs be unprepared for this.  
Tho his great services, and merit plead,  
Malice in power will be heard against 'em,  
And his reward be there to Starve neglected.  Count. 
Honour forbid.  Gra. 
Honour, justice, gratitude, and Friendship,  
All forbid, yet I th' unhapyy cause  
Look on, and suffer it, unable to assist him.  Count. 
He must, he shall be aided, and by you,  
For whom he suffers all.  Gra. 
O my honoured Father, more than Father now,  
'Tis more than Life you have given, like that unasked,  
Restored a Friend to me, preserved my honour,  
How shall I pay my thanks.  Count. 
To save you that be all the Act your own.  Gra. 
Would heaven but give the power.  Count. 
Give it yourself, and lose not time in wishing,  
A Friend, and Father, point you out the way,  
You know, Lamira.  Gra. 
Ha! what of her, my Lord?  Count. 
She may be yours.  Gra. 
Mine, my Lord.  Bell. 
One thing 'tis fit you know e'er you determine;  
Her deceased husband, by nature jealous, and severe,  
Left the considerablest part of her Estate,  
Conditional that she remain unmarried,  
The terms to one so young, unreasonable,  
And unjust, therefore I think 'em not in honour  
Obligatory, only to keep the Marriage secret  
Whilst her Sister lives, to whom she forfeits,  
If so you can approve it.  Gra. 
Far be it from me, t' expose Lamira  
To such a hazard of her ruin;  
'Twill be impossible to keep it secret.  Bell. 
Her long refusal of the greatest matches,  
Has raised in many different Conjectures;  
All which to end, she'll suddenly declare  
The true conditions of her husband's will,  
That will prevent all pryings, or suspicions  
Of her Marriage.  Count. 
Especially to him, a younger Brother  
Will ne'er be thought an Object for her choice,  
And prudence must direct the management  
Of future accidents, that may occur.  Bell. 
My Lord, I'll leave you to consult together. Exit Bell.  Count. 
You seem not much to relish this proposal;  
Could you expect a match so advantageous?  Gra. 
Marriage, my Lord, I hold a sacred bond,  
Which should be made for nobler ends than interest;  
Hearts should first be joined.  Count. 
And who deserves your Heart more than Lamira?  Gra. 
It is not merit only gives us love,  
Else every heart would take the same impression,  
But each we see receives a different Image,  
As it were fitted for that stamp alone;  
Hers is perhaps of too refined a nature  
To strike this grosser mould, I cannot mend it,  
And hope you will not press a monstrous Union  
Of things by nature not agreeing.  Count. 
By heaven a mere rebellious Spirit moves thee  
To this refusal, had it not been offered,  
Thy own desires would have prevented us.  Gra. 
Can I so far forget my filial duty?  
My Lord, I honour you, and your Commands  
Equal almost to heavens; but you have told me,  
A state so lasting should be well considered  
E'er resolved on, and that Marriage bonds  
Were of too ponderous weight, for youth to bear.  Count. 
Are you still a Boy? I have considered for you,  
Your part is to obey.  Gra. 
I have yet too large a Stock of coming years,  
To be laid out upon one hasty purchase.  Count. 
Go satisfy your Friend thus, tell him the last  
Of that fine fancied stock, shall be laid out  
For his relief.  Gra. 
O Castalio!  Count. 
You Love him well indeed ingrateful wretch,  
Insensible of every benefit,  
What an indulgent Father have I been?  
When thy Extravagance had left thee Friendless,  
Pursued by many, by the rest abandoned,  
I took thee to my bosom, sheltered thee  
Even from Royal anger; used all my interest  
With vast expense to gain thy pardon,  
And this day, resolved to pay th' exacted sum  
For which 'twas granted, but ungracious Boy,  
I'll not so dearly buy thy Liberty,  
Till thou canst find a better way to use it,  
Than disobeying me.  Gra. 
I know I don't deserve it, give me up  
To Death, to Banishment, or Slavery,  
I'll own your Justice, but let not poor Castalio  
Suffer for my fault;  
His Freedom will not cost you half so dear,  
Nor he be so ingrateful.  Count. 
Impudent request! what Friendship do I owe him,  
For sending me such a rebellious Son?  
You may go to him,  
And rot for me together in a Dungeon;  
Hence from my House, and till thou art obedient,  
By heaven if thou wert Starving at my gates,  
I'd send thee no relief; the first I do,  
May it become to both eternal ruin.  
Now foolish Boy, go seek a better fortune. Exit Count  Gra. 
Cast from the field, the Court, and my own Father,  
Where should I fly! to poor Felicia's Arms,  
She's kind, and will be fond to share my misery;  
Alas too soon she must, thus she'll be used,  
For so her Brother threatened; cruel thought!  
Must I behold that tender part of me,  
exposed to all th' extremities of want,  
My helpless Infant asking food in vain;  
O fate! O heaven! you cannot mean it;  
They're innocent, how, how have we deserved your anger?  
If there be a Guilt it must be mine.  
Why then ye Powers,  
Must she be involved in my unhappiness?  
O you are just, and cannot suffer it,  
Thus prostrate I implore, O spare her heaven,  
Wreck, Wreck on me your vengeance; but she is part of me,  
And so must share it:  
O let me fly from thought, or from the World,  
E'er this impetuous ruin over whelm  
My sinking reason. O I shall grow mad! Exit.   

SCENE II. A Prison.  Castalio solus Cas. 
No, proud insulting Spain, not even thus  
Can I repent my leaving Conquered Naples;  
Thy Pageant freedom, and precarious honours,  
Were heavier base slavery than these chains;  
And I am less ashamed of them, tho' here,  
Perhaps the Object of Lamira's scorn.  
Ha! what of that? by heaven I cannot form  
One thought for Glory, since I knew that Woman,  
But still 'tis mixed with Love, with passion stained.  
And makes the best, and bravest of my Actions,  
But glittering frailties;— she's strangely Charming,  
Well is't not enough to think her so?  
Or say I wish her mine?  
But why thus fix my Soul upon a Woman?  
Why these tumultuous rave, hopes, and fears? Enter Gramont.  
Gramont! I blush as if I thought he saw my heart,  
Ashamed to own myself for what I am;  
Stifling my passion may extinguish it.  
No more of this.— My Friend, this welcome sight  
Makes all my wrongs, and pains insensible,  
That thou art free, and safe, is to Castalio,  
Easie and Liberty.  Gra. 
Dearer than either, how do I enjoy 'em,  
Whilst purchased at the sad expense of yours!  
How can I look upon a Friend thus ruined,  
By saving me at his extremest peril,  
Whilst I but Mourn for him, with aidless pity?  Cas. 
No my Gramont;  
'Tis not for freeing thee that I am thus,  
Occasions had been found, tho' this not given  
T' exert the General's malice; but do not grieve,  
His Triumph is but short, I shall be free.  Gra. 
You hide a truth you fear t' afflict me with,  
I know that public Spirit, which at Naples  
Made you in favour of the common interest  
Neglect your own, has moved you here as nobly,  
Your frequent bounties to the murmuring Soldiers,  
Must have disabled you for the discharge  
Of such a sum.  Cas. 
I could no less than give to your King's Service,  
What he so frankly had bestowed on me;  
And being just upon the point of Battle,  
'Twas then the only way to quell the Mutiny;  
But can I doubt to find him grateful now,  
Whose generosity when undeserved  
I have so far experienced?  
I every hour expect Bernardo's coming,  
And doubt not but he brings me Liberty;  
That faithful follower of my fortunes hearing  
The General had left the Camp, and ordered  
My removal hither, hastened to Court,  
That he might there in Person answer aught  
Alleged against me, in Confidence the King  
When well informed of the injustice done me,  
Will soon command my freedom.  Gra. 
You'll find you have a subtle Enemy,  
Tho' in his hate bore faced, close in revenge,  
Which having failed when against me directed,  
I fear will now be bent with surer aim,  
And fall with double force on you.  Cas. 
He should indeed have made my ruin sure,  
Or not have dared so much.  Gra. 
What can his motive be of sending you from th' army?  Cas. 
He durst not in his absence trust me to  
The Soldiers love, which he had found when present,  
Scarce his Authority could balance; that chiefly,  
But in part he serves his malice, pleased  
Whilst he can to make me bear the hardships,  
And inconvenience of a common Prison;  
He has intended me the vilest usage,  
alloting me a dark and noisome dungeon,  
Tho' I'm by stealth allowed the freedom of this Air. Enter Bernardo.  
Bernardo returned already; what News from Court?  Bern. 
That you have been too honest.  Cas. 
I shan't repent it.  Bern. 
By Heaven, I had rather seen you led in Triumph  
A Slave to Spain, they might have showed you  
As an Enemy, but had not called you Traitor.  Cas. 
Ha! but thou talk'st with rage, speak to my understanding.  Bern. 
My Lord your pardon, 'tis my hearty Love,  
Makes me forget all method, and respect,  
I've been at Court, where sure no honest Man  
Can keep his Temper.  Cas. 
Why, what reception found you there?  Bern. 
Such as they'd give a man the Plague had seized;  
All shunned me as I passed, and those in office,  
When I desired admittance to the presence,  
Would not know me.  Cas. 
Denied to see the King!  Barn. 
I would not be denied.  Cas. 
Be brief to your success with him.  Barn. 
He asked me coldly if I came to speak  
In your Defence; I said I hoped 'twas needless  
To defend an Act which all brave Men,  
And Friends to justice, must admire.  Cas. 
What did the King return?  Barn. 
He owned Gramont had been unjustly Sentenced,  
And therefore had his pardon;  
But 'twas of ill example to oppose  
In such a hostile way a General's orders,  
And might encourage others if your fine  
Should be remitted; I urged your Services,  
And lastly, that you had not asked for favour,  
But that to keep his Soldiers in their duty  
Who mutinyed for pay, you had stripped yourself  
Of what might now discharge you; he said you'd been  
Too zealous in his Service, so abruptly left me.  Cas. 
By Heaven I think he's in the right, if zeal  
Be thus rewarded.  Barn. 
My Lord, the King's abused,  
The treacherous General has found a Spring  
That will supply his malice whilst you have any virtues,  
He makes 'em all appear as Arts put on  
T' ingratiate with the Soldiers, on design  
To serve the Spanish interest.  Cas. 
How, taxed with Treason! the basest too,  
Made blacker by th' ingratitude; he dares not say it,  
Nor would the King believe it.  Barn. 
Somewhat that way his last words seem t' import,  
But what I, further learned was from an officer  
That honours you, and whom the General trusts;  
A correspondence held with Spain is talked of,  
With hints of proofs to be produced against you.  Cas. 
Impossible, my words, my heart, and Actions,  
Have been open, there's such unartful plainness  
In my nature, as cannot be suspected.  Gra. 
There's no security against such malice  
As makes your highest virtues seem your Crimes;  
And Prince's ever in jealousy of power,  
Give easy credit to reports of danger.  Barn. 
Doubtless he will not fail of Evidence  
To back his accusation; in short my Lord,  
Unless you know, or find some speedy way  
To free yourself, and face your base detractors,  
I would not answer for your Life.  Gra. 
O Fate!  
All this t' oppress a wretch already loaded,  
Ruin on ruin heaped!  
Is't not enough to have determined mine,  
But I must pull all that surround me down,  
To crush me in my fall, and with my own,  
Bring all the weight of their destruction on me;  
It is not to be born? what to be made  
Ill fates crust instrument, distributer  
Of direst miseries, and bane of virtue!  
I am all this, I, I, Castalio, am.  
The baleful Planet, whose malignant influence  
Ruins your fortunes, blasts your spreading Glories,  
And all your kinder Stars had purposed you defeats.  Cas. 
You share too much my wrongs, but have not caused 'em.  
Let your resentment strike where justice bids,  
I must not see you rashly lose your passion  
Against a Man I love, my only Friend.  Gra. 
Alas you do not know with how much reason  
My passion spoke, nor what a wretch I am,  
Abandoned by my Father, banished his House,  
And with his Curse if ever I return.  Cas. 
For ever?  Gra. 
It must be ever, the only terms  
Of my admittance, ne'er can be performed.  Cas. 
'Tis cruel, what cause can you have given him to proceed  
To such extremities?  Gra. 
You know the dearest secret of my Life,  
My long concealed, and unsuspected marriage.  Cas. 
'Tis then discovered.  Gra. 
Not that, nor dare I own it,  
My Father loves Felicia, not knowing her  
My Wife, and has commanded me t' accept  
Another, whom Fortune, Birth, and Nature,  
Have left without Objection, which my refusing  
Has thus irreconcilably incensed him.  Cas. 
Your case indeed is hard.  Gra. 
Yet there is worse behind,  
I've not disclosed the wound that grieves me most,  
Not spoke how you're involved in my undoing;  
My Father was disposed in gratitude  
For a Son's life and liberty received,  
To have performed the Terms of gaining yours,  
But thus offended at my disobedience,  
Your saving me appears an injury,  
His hate extends to you, and now he's fixed  
Not to relieve tho' he should see you perish.  
heavens' should the fate of such a Man,  
By which the Worlds might rather be determined,  
Itself be influenced by any others?  
But why must I be made his destiny?  
Yes, yes, trace back through all the windings of your fortune,  
And you will find that I alone have been  
Your evil Genius, that you have cause to curse  
Your Fatal Friendship, the unlucky hour  
You saved my Life, or that which gave me Birth;  
O that it ne'er had been. I want the patience  
To support this load of wretched Life,  
That growing heavier as it wastes, leaves not,  
A hope of ease; tell me Castalio, Friend,  
Through all this Gloom of endless Miseries,  
Is there a dawn of any comfort left me?  Cas. 
Nor endless, my Gramont, nor Comfortless,  
No Man can be to that degree unhappy,  
That has on any Terms his fortune in his power,  
For his rejecting that when virtue bids,  
Shows there's a good in her, that would not fix,  
Unless it could reward his choice.  Enter a Soldier. Sold. 
My Lord, I beg you'll retire to your Chamber,  
The Governor will be returned this minute,  
And must not know you have had this Liberty.  Cas. 
I thank thee, honest Soldier. Farewell my Friend,  
Remember Death's the worst we have to fear.  
And that whilst we unmoved preserve our virtue,  
Rather to be desired. Cas. goes within the Scene, Gra. Advances, a Scene shuts representing the outside of the Castle. Manet Gramont.  Gra. 
To be desired indeed, since virtue here  
Is ever thus oppressed, without relief,  
But in its future prospect.  Enter a Servant. Seru. 
Sir, I am sent with an unwelcome Message  
From my Lord your Father; the time you took,  
For payment of your fine being now expired,  
'Tis rigorously demanded, and by my Lord refused;  
He says he would advise you so to act  
That it may be discharged, if not you must  
Deliver up your person, for he vows  
He never will assist you.  Gra. 
Tell him I will obey him, this alone were light,  
But added to the rest completes the weight.  
What News hast thou? how does my little Son? Enter another Servant.  
Thy looks forebode me ill, if my Child is dead,  
Smile when thou tell'st me, for he is happy.  Seru. 
Sir, he lives, but in a wretched state;  
The place you sent him to being near the Sea,  
His Nurse walked often with him on the Shoar,  
But most unhappily, some weeks ago  
Was by our famous Pirate, seen, and seized,  
And with her infant charge carried on board.  Gra. 
O fatal accident! a strange one too;  
What can the Villain gain by such a prize?  
Methinks it should be more a burden to him,  
Than advantage.  Seru. 
They say he does it, Sir,  
In hopes of a Considerable ransom,  
If his young Captives prove of quality;  
But if he finds they will not be redeemed,  
He throws 'em to the mercy of the Waves.  Ora. 
Ha! what pains the fates are at to make a Villain of me!  
Must it be so? shall I give up my honour,  
To save myself, and all I love from ruin?  
No, that's in my own power, the rest in fates,  
And spite of fate I'll keep my honesty;  
Tho' my best Friend must be for me undone,  
In Fame, in Fortune, and perhaps his Life  
A Sacrifice to treacherous revenge;  
My infant by inhuman Pirates Murdered,  
The dearest fruit of my Felicia's Love.  
My Wife too, O my Wife! she'll be thrown out  
To wander through the World, poor, and distressed,  
To curse her fatal love, to curse her Husband,  
The wretched source of bitterest miseries,  
Who sees her starving, and can give no succour?  
I cannot bear the thought, it shall not be;  
I'd pluck these Eyes out rather than behold it,  
So dear I hold her, I could cut off these limbs  
To let her piece meal feed upon my flesh;  
I must, I must prevent at any rate  
This dismal Scene of misery, and ruin,  
Turn Villain, any thing when she's at stake,  
My Child too, and my Friend, I could by Heaven  
Suffer a thousand racking death's for each;  
And should I Sacrifice 'em all, to keep  
A little peace of mind, the pride of never straying?  
Walk on by Rules, and calmly let 'em perish,  
Rather than tread one step beyond to save 'em?  
Forbid it Nature, no, I'll leap o'er all.  
Castalio, my suffering Babe, and Loved Felicia  
See how dear you're to me, how strong my Love,  
When it can turn the Scale against my Virtue;  
Nay now 'tis plain, not I but fate resolves it, Enter Bellgard.  
He's surely sent just at this very point,  
To keep me warm, and firm for villainy,  
Welcome Bellgard, where's Lamira? where my Father?  
Tell him I will be his, and hers, and yours,  
Mould me as you please, but take me quickly,  
For now I grow impatient, when shall it be done?  Bell. 
Gramont, I love you, and am much rejoiced  
To see you fond of your own happiness,  
But yet must wonder at this new impatience.  Gra. 
I dare not trust delays, they're dangerous,  
May hinder, or reveal the fatal secret,  
That you know would ruin us;  
But let us not confide in our best Friends,  
Or near relations, shall we swear to it?  
You'll not discover it where you most could trust  
Your Sister, or if any one is dearer.  Bell. 
On my honour, but there needs no Oath,  
My Friendship to you both will tie me stricter.  
I was just going to my Lord your Father,  
Shall I tell him? but we'll go together,  
Since you are for dispatch, he best can forward it.  Gra. 
I'll wait on you, 'tis done, I'm entered now,  
And to plunge through, must leave all thought behind me,  
No happiness I for myself expect,  
But would preserve my Friends from ruin;  
Let me without a Partner be unfortunate,  
'Tis all the privilege, I beg from Fate. Exeunt.    


ACT III. SCENE I.  Enter Count Roquelaure, and Lamira. Lam. 
'TIs I my Lord, am honoured in your choice,  
To make me sharer of your noble blood.  Count. 
We shall esteem our House with greater Cause,  
When it can boast of such an Ornament;  
But as the happiness is most my Sons,  
He best can pay you our acknowledgements,  
For what he wanted confidence to ask.  Lam. 
He seems to want no virtue for perfection,  
But a just sense of his exalted worth,  
He comes, and now that fortune joins with it,  
My heart grows bold, and tells me he has Charms, Enter Gra. and Bell.  
Which it must love, and will not be controlled.  Count. 
Bellgard, your fair relation has consented  
To all our wishes, tho' beyond our hopes.  Bell. 
She has obliged us all, but you Gramont  
Will have the greatest sense, as well as share  
Of the good fortune.  Gra. 
'Tis so above what I can say, or think,  
I could not hope, nor ought t''ave aimed at it.  Count. 
You must not wonder, Madam, if my Son  
Is eager to secure a happiness  
Which want of merit makes him fear to lose;  
He pressed me e'er I came, if I prevailed,  
To beg you'd not delay to Crown his wishes.  Lam. 
So small a prize, would not be worth the price  
Of a long expectation.  Gra. 
It might reward an Age of expectation.  Count. 
But happiness can never come too soon;  
May not th' account of his, begin to morrow?  Lam. 
Nay now you are too hasty.  Count. 
Bellgard, you'll join in intercession with us.  Bell. 
If but to avoid suspicion, it were best  
To use dispatch.  Gra. 
O Felicia? Aside  Count. 
Ha? methought he named, Felicia,  
We must not let him cool; since all's agreed,  
What hinders that it be to night?  Lam. 
To night.  Gra. 
Why not to night? it cannot be too soon,  
Since it must be. Aside.  Lam. 
Why must our Sex seem shy of what they wish? Aside.  Bell. 
Dare you trust your Chaplain with the secret?  Lam. 
I know none fitter.  Bell. 
Then all is ready for the Ceremony,  
Come Lamira, you should be above  
This little affectation, this Maiden Coyness,  
Away with it, you must not now deny,  
There's no pretence for it.  Lam. 
You have an absolute command of me,  
But methinks this is too sudden.  Count. 
O the more unexpected the more pleasing.  Bell. 
I had designed before an Entertainment  
Of Music here to night, most fortunately  
On this occasion,  
'Twere best to have it in this Antichamber,  
Whilst we within conclude the happy Union,  
Come Gramont, you'll lead your Bride.  Count. 
Hast, you lose time the night is almost spent.  Lam. 
How pleased we are with importunity,  
That makes our own desires seem condescension;  
Who pleads a cause like this can never fail,  
If not their Arguments, Love will prevail. Exeunt.   

After a Consort of Music.  The Scene draws and discovers Gramont, sitting alone. Gra. 
It must not be, 'twere base to wrong her so;  
Ha base! why what's the part I have already acted?  
Am I not now initiated Villain?  
Have I the smallest claim to honour left?  
Or can it be possessed by halfs? no,  
Indivisible, it like the Soul  
Must animate entire, in every part,  
But one base Act completes that Character,  
Stamps Villain on the whole, be then a Villain  
— Ha? Felicia, my love! how could I think it!  
How once Imagine it were possible  
For one possessing all thy Heaven of Beauties,  
To take another to his loathing arms;  
No, in this Shipwreck of my honour, virtue,  
I'll save the treasure of my Faith to thee,  
'Tis all I have left of good, my Darling store,  
And I will hug myself, and pride in that.  Enter Lamira. Lam. 
Is it not time, Gramont, to think of rest?  
The morning breaks upon your night's Devotions.  Gra. 
Perhaps I have some cares that keep me waking,  
With which I would not load your peaceful breast.  Lam. 
O can you think that I behold you thus,  
And keep my peace? thus given up to sadness,  
And for untimely thought, neglecting me,  
What is it? speak your griefs, what cause so pressing  
To allow no respite upon a time like this?  
Which for the wretched'st pair that fate e'er joined,  
Used to put on at least a form of joy.  Gra. 
Mine is indeed a most uncommon cause,  
But do not seek to know it.  Lam. 
No, I need not,  
Now it speaks itself, you do not love me,  
That, that alone could keep you from me thus.  Gra. 
Suppose th' idea of a suffering Friend,  
For me this instant bearing cruel hardships,  
Had checked me from indulgent thoughts of ease,  
Would that excuse me to you?  
How clasped in those soft arms could I be called  
The Friend, the other half of poor Castalio,  
Whose fainting limbs, rude circling Irons load.  Lam. 
I know your Friend's misfortune, and his worth,  
I know you owe him much,  
And will not tax you of too nice a gratitude,  
Be such a lover, as you are a Friend;  
This cause of sadness shall be soon removed  
Three thousand Crowns will give Castalio freedom,  
Which shall be sent him instantly. Within there, Marian.  She talks aside with Mar. Gra. 
Down, down proud, swelling heart, why shouldst thou mount  
Above my Grovelling fate?  
Thou, canst not raise it to thy height, yield then,  
Be vile as that.  Lam. 
Bid him haste, and say Gramont has sent him. To Mar. who goes out.  
Let him not mention me. Still are you sad? Advancing.  Gra. 
I'm but correcting a proud Rebel here,  
That would not be obliged; I shall have peace  
When I have taught it to be as ingrateful,  
As I must be.  Lam. 
To whom.  Gra. 
Madam, to you.  Lam. 
Why to me? why must you be ungrateful?  
Can you not love me?  Gra. 
You know not what a Bankrupt you have trusted,  
So poor, so ruined, that for all he owes you,  
The kindest, best return that he can make,  
Is thus to shun your Bed.  Lam. 
Am I then your aversion.  Gra. 
Believe me, 'tis the highest Mark of value,  
That neither your resentment can provoke,  
Nor all your Beauties tempt me to abuse you.  Lam. 
Abuse, is that a Husband's language? how?  
What mean you? speak the cause of this behaviour.  Gra. 
It is not to be told, let it suffice  
That as the present circumstances are,  
If I should take a Husband's Privilege,  
The consequence would be to you most fatal;  
Ask not the cause, I cannot tell you more.  Lam. 
Say, only say, it is not want of Love,  
And I will seek no further.  Gra. 
Were all the fire of every Heart you have inflamed,  
Raging at once in mine, this were the greatest proof  
That I could give you, of true affection.  Lam. 
O could I be convinced of that Gramont,  
I should not envy the most happy Bride,  
I have no thought, no wish beyond your Love,  
Make me secure of that and I am blessed;  
Why art thou thus unmoved, thou cruel Savage?  
Hast thou no Sensibility, no Fire in thy Soul?  
Or have not I the Art to blow the Flame?  
Instruct me then, if 'tis not yet too late,  
If 'tis not kindled at another's Charms;  
That was an Injurious Thought, chide it away,  
Tell me you could not be so false, so base,  
You do not answer!  
Nay then, I fear I am abused indeed;  
Speak quickly, Swear I am not; the very fear's  
Distracting, not to be born, Swear you are thus by Nature,  
Thus cold, Insensible to all the Sex,  
As you are now to me, swear that  
And I'll complain no more of your Indifference;  
But with submissive Duty, tenderest Care,  
And most unwearied Love, still strive to move  
Thy cold, obdurate Heart; is there a Hope to gain it?  Gra. 
Madam, You set it at too high a rate,  
It is not worth your least concern or thought.  Lam. 
Why, why Inhuman dost thou answer thus;  
Regardless of the Doubts that rack my Soul?  
O speak; reply to them, e'er they distract me;  
'Tis enough, enough thy silence speaks,  
The dumb Confession of a guilty Mind;  
Ay, there it is, thou false, perfidious Man,  
'Tis to a Rival I am sacrificed;  
But thinkst thou I will tamely bear my wrongs,  
And let her triumph in 'em? Dare not to see her,  
For if thou dost, I'll find the Strumpet out;  
Confusion! Slighted, for another too!  
O how I'll be revenged! I'll know this Sorceress,  
Make her most infamous;  
I'll be your plague, anticipate your Hell.  Gra. 
Why all this for a bare Imagination?  Lam. 
Is it no more? Then you may join with me  
To curse this Creature of my fancy;  
Let all united Mischiefs light upon her,  
Diseases make her loathsome to your arms,  
Deformity, a Horror to your Eyes;  
May pinching Wants bring her to Beggary,  
And Infamy divert all pity from her.  Gra. 
O hold! You stab my Soul: If you must curse,  
On me let all your Imprecations fall,  
For I alone am Guilty.  Lam. 
Why thus concerned for one that has no Being,  
But in a bare Imagination? Dissembling,  
Vilest Wretch; thou thing below my anger;  
There have been glorious Villains, that may look  
With scorn on thee, disdaining thy low ends;  
A paltry bait of Fortune, poor Spirited,  
Mean Traitor; what Indigent abandoned Creature  
Is this, that hopes to vaunt it in my Spoils,  
Yet must be purchased at no less a rate  
Than such an insolent Disdain of me?  
What are your terms? what she? And what her Charms?  
Let's know the State, and reason of this Preference—  
Stubborn and Dumb; am I not worth an Answer?  Gra: 
What, Madam, can I answer to your Rage?  Lam. 
My wrongs, thy own upbraiding guilt thou canst not answer.  
I do not rage, nor is there any rage  
For Injuries like this.  
All that has had the name of Passion, Fury,  
Even to Madness, here is highest Reason;  
So basely used! a Rival's property!  
Valued, thus despised for her, tormenting!  
What easy Fool didst think thou hast secured?  
Mistaken Man thou hast roused a Woman's Rage;  
In spite of all thy hardened Villainy,  
Thou shalt repent thou didst provoke me thus;  
I'll haunt your Steps, and interrupt your Joys;  
Fright you with Curses from your Minions arms;  
Pursue you with Reproaches, blast her Fame;  
I'll be the constant Bane of all your Pleasures,  
A jaring, Clamorous, very Wife to thee,  
To her a greater Plague, than thou to me.  Exit Lam. Gram. 
Let my Felicia scape her jealous fury,  
And with whatever force her Vengeance, strike,  
It is not worth my fear: She must be yet  
Too much transported with her rage t'observe me,  
I'll take the occasion, and somewhere near Bellgard's  
Remain unseen, till I may have admittance  
To my Love;  
Her Nature's calm, by no rough passions tossed,  
A Harbour from this Tempest; upon her gentle Bosom  
All the Disorders of my Soul will cease,  
Or I despair ever to find my Peace. Exit.   

SCENE Bellgard's House.  Felicia Sola. 
'Tis yet too soon t'expect him, the sprightly Day  
Cannot move swift enough for Love's impatience.  
Doubtless my kind Gramont is wishing too  
For the blessed Minute, waiting as he's wont,  
Like a fond Lover, ready to seize the first  
That gives us Liberty: O that dear Man!  
Who that were so beloved, would grudge to bear  
More than I suffer for him? That Kind, that faithful  
Partner of my Griefs.  Enter Bellgard. Bell. 
So Early up Sister.  Feli. 
I was not much disposed for sleep this Morning.  Bell. 
Perhaps my coming home so late disturbed you.  Feli. 
'Twas late indeed.  Bell. 
Th'occasion may excuse it.  Feli. 
Am I to know th'occasion?  Bell. 
Only a Friend's Marriage. 'Twill be fit Aside.  
To let Felicia know Gramont is married,  
But not to whom; whilst that is unsuspected  
The Secrets safe.  Feli. 
May I ask what Friend? Or is't a Secret, Brother?  Bell. 
'Tis indeed a Secret, Sister; but you  
Should know it, if I were sure 'twould not disturb you.  Feli. 
That I dare promise you;  
It is not in the power of any one  
To raise the least concern in me that way.  Bell. 
Then I may safely tell you, (but with charge  
Not to reveal it) Gramont last Night was married.  Feli. 
Gramont! You jest with me.  Bell. 
On my faith I'm serious.  Feli. 
What can he mean? To whom, Brother?  Bell. 
For that you must excuse me; I've given my Honour  
Not to disclose it to my dearest Friend.  Feli. 
Unless you tell me that, I shall believe  
You said it but to try me.  Bell. 
Were it not a Secret of Importance,  
Or if my own, I would not hide it from you;  
None but his Father, and myself were trusted,  
My Faith, my Honour, Friendship, are engaged  
To keep it with the last Fidelity.  Fel. 
With what concern he speaks; and yet it cannot be.  Bel. 
I conjure you, Sister, not to mention this.  Fel. 
Why such a Secret? But you're not in earnest.  Bel. 
Why should you doubt, when I affirm it thus  
Not from Report, but my own certain knowledge?  
Myself was present at the Nuptial tie,  
A Witness of their Vows.  Fel. 
If there is faith in Man, this can't be truth;  
I fancy, Brother, this is but designed  
To try how I could bear it.  Bel. 
Those are Women's Arts, I understand 'em not;  
Heaven knows no greater truth than what I've told you.  Fel. 
Swear by that Heaven, you're sure Gramont is married,  
And I will doubt no longer.  Bel. 
Am I not worth your Credit? Why all this Doubting?  
By every name that's good, Gramont is married,  
I saw him married.  Fel. 
Wretched Woman!  Bel. 
How Felicia!  Fel. 
O I must not think it;  
He can't be guilty of so base an action.  Bel. 
What foolish Passion's this?  Fel. 
And yet my Brother swears it, swears he saw it:  
O Gramont! Is all my Love and Faith rewarded thus?  Bel. 
For shame at least conceal your folly;  
This Fondness for a Man who cares not for you,  
Perhaps scarce thinks of you.  Fel. 
O, to be so abused!  Bel. 
What said you? So abused  Fel. 
He has wronged me basely.  Bel. 
Ha! Hast thou not wronged thyself, given up  
Thy Honour to him?  Fel. 
O forgive me, Brother—  Bel. 
Dar'st thou own thy Infamy, yet hope to be forgiven?  Fel. 
I am married.  Bel. 
No Strumpet, he but served his Lust with thee,  
And now has paid thee as thou dost deserve,  
Too wise to Marry where he found not Virtue.  Fel. 
Can you suspect me of a thing so vile!  
No, by all Goodness, I am not dishonest;  
But by all Lawful Bonds, his real Wife.  Bel. 
O curse! What do I hear! What have I done!  
Base Dog, so to betray, abuse my Friendship;  
Whether does all this lead? Where can it end?  
'Tis Misery, Dishonour without end,  
And I the Instrument of all this Ruin.  
Villain, perfidious Villain! Ay, Traitress, weep,  
Weep for thy Shame, thy Sin, thy Disobedience,  
Rebellious Girl, pollution of my blood.  Fel. 
O I deserve all this, that could deceive  
And disobey the best of Brothers.  Bell. 
You've met a just return of your Ingratitude  
To all my Love and tender Care of you.  Fel. 
I have indeed: I have no Husband now;  
And where, alas, where will my little Son  
Now find a Father!  Bell. 
A Son! Is then this cursed  
Unhappy Marriage of so long a date?  Fel. 
Two Years I've been his Wife, and brought in secret  
A wretched Infant to partake our Sorrows,  
And now they are completed. O my Brother,  
Tread me to the Earth;  
Double your Anger on me; 'tis but just,  
That I may fall a Load of Miseries,  
And never, never rise.  Bell. 
Alas, she moves my Soul— Prithee no more;  
Thy Fault was great, but now thy Punishment  
Has so exceeded it, I must forgive thee.  
Rise, Felicia; I am still a Brother;  
Wipe off these Tears; thou shalt have Justice done thee,  
Trust me thou shalt.  Fel. 
O you are too good. But my dear Brother,  
For whom am I so treacherously abandoned?  Bell. 
O that gives double edge to my Resentment!  
The other innocent, and more abused,  
Shares in our Blood as well as Injuries.  
What, did the Villain think our Family  
Were Women all, whom he might poorly wrong,  
Safe from th'avenging Hand of Manly Justice?  Fel. 
Is she a Relation? What, Lamira?  
Now I reflect on it, he spoke last Night  
Of some Addresses there.  Bell. 
Sister, be satisfied; my Honour is  
Too nearly touched to let you be abused;  
With that compose yourself. But poor Lamira,  
Who can bear this fatal Story to her!  
I who have been th'unlucky Instrument,  
Dare not speak it, till with the Villain's Blood  
I've washed off the Dishonour. Exit Bell.  Fel. 
Is this the Joy the longed-for Morning promised!  
Are all those tender, charming Ecstasies,  
And soft Embraces which my Love expected,  
Now given to another! O 'tis death!  
This very Minute she holds him in her Arms,  
Thinks him all hers; he lies transported too,  
With perjured Breath gives all my Vows away.  
Can I endure it! O Gramont!  
He must be mine: I'll pierce his faithless Heart  
With my Upbraid. O she shall not have him;  
I'll tear him from her; I will, I will;  
She shall not, must not have have him. Ha! As she is going out, Lamira meets her.  Lam. 
Why start you? Is there aught in me to fright?  Fel. 
Lamira here!  Lam. 
Is that so strange? I come to seek your Brother:  
The Hour's indeed unusual; but my Business  
Will well excuse to him this early Visit.  Fel. 
Early indeed for Lovers so newly joined to part.  Lam. 
Ha, does she know it? (Aside.) What Lovers do you speak of?  Fel. 
Too well you know; would I had died e'er known it:  
Why must I live to speak his Infamy!  
Faithless and perjured, he is still Gramont,  
Once so beloved, so kind, and seeming true.  Lam. 
Is't then Felicia? She whom Nature meant  
A Friend, my Rival, cause of all my Unhappiness:  
But how am I betrayed to her!  
How this cursed Secret known!  
If once so kind, who tells you he is false?  Fel. 
Heaven would not leave such Baseness undetected;  
The sacred Vows he made last Night to you,  
Were mine before:  
And O how oft in Ecstasies of Love repeated!  
How pressing me in his fond Arms, he has swore  
They never should embrace another.  Lam. 
Too faithful, Villain. (Aside.)  
What of this? Suppose he liked you once,  
Does that oblige him not to mend his Choice?  
Is he to blame if you want Charms to fix him?  Fel. 
Madam, I'll not dispute with you my Charms,  
But urge my Right in him; that Plea's sufficient,  
Whate'er I am, to make your Loves a Crime.  Lam. 
Because he swore to you, think you that Men  
Remember Oaths in their loose Pleasures made?  
What can you hope for from so vain a Plea?  
'Tis wise in one who sees herself abandoned  
To mourn in silence: Pursuits, Reproaches, or Complaints,  
May lose her Fame, but ne'er retrieve the Lover.  
Had you beheld last Night what wondrous Love he showed,  
You'd be convinced his Heart's too deeply fixed  
E'er to be moved, and cease your vain lamenting.  Fel. 
Such wondrous Love! O I know too well  
How many tender ways he has to charm,  
And make himself believed:  
But could he be all that for any other,  
So soft, so nice, so passionately fond,  
So much transported as I've seen the Charmer?  Lam. 
Poor credulous Creature, when he seemed so fond,  
You should have been less kind to have secured him,  
Or made him more than swear.  Fel. 
What means all this?  
You speak as if you thought me not his Wife.  Lam. 
His Wife?  Fel. 
Why with that Scorn? His Wife, his lawful Wife,  
As firmly as the Holy Priest could make me.  Lam. 
Felicia, 'tis too much, if he is false,  
He has gone too far to leave you that Pretence,  
Nor will it be believed.  Fel. 
I have sufficient Witness, and every legal Proof  
Of what I say, But let himself appear,  
Let him look on me, and try if he has Courage  
To disown his first, his only Wife.  Lam. 
Then what am I!  
If this is truth, is it your part to raise?  
Am not I most abused, dishonoured, ruined!  
But it cannot be. What, by a Priest?  
Legally Married, said you?  Fel. 
Heaven witness that I am.  
But yesterday I saw him too,  
All Love, all Tenderness, and full of me.  
Sure some cursed Arts must have been practised on him;  
Some Philter he has drank, no other way  
You could have charmed him from me.  Lam. 
Are there such Arts?  
Indeed the mighty Fondness you so boast of,  
May make it out of doubt.  Fel. 
Alas, my Arts  
Have been of little force; for I have lost him:  
O have I lost for ever all the Joys  
I found in him! The solid Happiness  
Of Minds united, must we ne'er again  
With equal Wishes, equal Transports meet?  Lam. 
Never, never; I henceforth forbid it.  Fel. 
What Right can you pretend to of forbidding?  Lam. 
The Right which one that's injured has to Vengeance.  
Th'ungrateful Traitor that abused my Love,  
Shall give, nor know no Joy in any others.  
Think you I'd patiently behold the Villain  
Possessing, and possessed, by a loved Rival?  Fel. 
Madam, I think you neither have the Right,  
Nor Power to hinder it, if we agree.  Lam. 
You dare not; my Wrongs shall rise and check the very Wish,  
Strike him with Shame, and you with Jealousy,  
That shall prevent, or poison all your Joys.  
But if thou art so poorly spirited,  
T'accept and yield t'adulterated Love,  
I'll disappoint your Wishes when their highest,  
Fired with full Hope, and nearer Expectation,  
When all thy eager Senses are at once  
Crowding to feast on his delusive Charms,  
ere thou canst taste, I'll stab him in thy Arms. Ex. Lam.  Fel. 
Alas, we ne'er can meet in Joy again:  
Nay, now perhaps he means no more to see me:  
I would but once, but live to see him once,  
Take my last leave of him, and then the World;  
For when I'm his no more, I would be nothing. Exit.    


ACT IV. SCENE I.  The Scene opens, Felicia alone, Gramont enters to her. Gram. 
I Waited long, my Love, to find you free,  
And had almost despaired of seeing you.  Fel. 
A Sight you could have been most willingly  
Dispensed from.  Gram. 
Why dost thou say so? 'Tis unkind; thou know'st  
I ever thought the Hours I passed with thee,  
The happiest of my Life.  Fel. 
Perhaps you did,  
Perhaps you loved me once.  Gram. 
And do not still!  Fel. 
O Gramont, would you had never said you loved,  
Or I had ne'er believed you.  Gram. 
Not Love! If I have any good in me,  
'Tis the sincere Affection which I bear thee:  
What means my Dear?  Fel. 
Have I not been a fond, a faithful Wife?  Gram. 
Not Malice can deny it.  Fel. 
Why am I then forsaken for another?  Gram. 
Forsaken!  Fel. 
You who a thousand times  
Have sworn, our Marriage was the weakest Bond  
That held you to me: You to break 'em all.  Gram. 
Ha!  Fel. 
Or tho' you had not loved me, could you do  
So base a thing?  Gram. 
O don't upbraid me; that thou know'st my Shame,  
Is Punishment enough.  Fel. 
Could you be false to me that doted on you?  
Ungrateful Man! How can I live without him!  Gram. 
Thou break'st my Heart.  Fel. 
You have broke my Heart, and may I not complain?  
Unkind Gramont!  Gram. 
O turn thy Eyes away,  
For their Reproaches sting me to the quick.  Fel. 
Nay, then I'll fix 'em till your Heart relent  
With Pity, for the Miseries you've caused:  
Look on me, look upon your wretched Wife!  Gram. 
A Wretch like me should be excluded ever  
From the blessed Vision! I dare not look on thee.  Fel. 
Then tell me, if I e'er deserved your Love,  
What have I done to lose it?  Gram. 
Lose it! If I had not loved thee tenderly,  
I had not been a Villain.  Fel. 
For love of me?  Gram. 
For thee? t'avert the Miseries  
Which threatened thee, and our unhappy Infant,  
I sacrificed my Honour.  Fel. 
What Miseries would not I share with you,  
Rather than share yourself with any other!  
I would have starved first, or have begged you Food,  
T'ave kept you mine: But now you are Lamira's.  Gram. 
I am unworthy to be thine, Felicia:  
All I can ask thee now, is to forgive me.  Fel. 
Alas, what's my Forgiveness! My Brother and Lamira  
Will pursue you: She does not love like me.  Fel. 
No matter; their Resentment I can bear,  
But not Felicia's. See, thy wretched Husband  
Kneels at thy Feet, to beg Compassion of thee;  
Entreats thee, when he falls beneath his Griefs,  
Or by thy Brother's Vengeance, to bestow  
Some Pity on him; think, remember still  
'Twas love of thee made him unworthy of thee—  
But if she can forgive, she must be good;  
And then must hate me too, despise, contemn me. O Curse!  
Let me grow here, become one Piece with Earth,  
Lost to myself, all Eyes, and all Remembrance.  Fel. 
O I can't bear to see you thus; O rise!  
What would you have me to do for you?  Gram. 
For me! Use me like what I am, a Dog,  
Fit to be spurned, kicked from you like a Cur.  Fel. 
Don't distract yourself.  Gram. 
What, outlive my Honesty, and not be mad!  
Lose thy Esteem, lose my Felicia's Heart,  
Deserve to lose 'em too, and not be mad!  Fel. 
O Gramont!  
If you had loved but half so faithfully  
As your Felicia does, she had not lost you.  Gram. 
Thou didst; but now you cannot, must not love me.  Fel. 
O I never knew till now how much I love you!  
Be what you will, or use me how you will,  
You've fixed yourself so firmly to my Heart,  
I can't divide it from you:  
'Tis full; 'tis breaking now with Fears for you.  Gram. 
Thou dear Example of Fidelity, Rising.  
What dost thou fear? Come to my Arms, and tell me.  Fel. 
O fly to mine, and then I can fear nothing;  
I'll hold thee here, and Fate shall never reach thee.  Gram. 
Not if thou lov'st me. O I see thou dost;  
And circled thus, I'm happy once again.  Fel. 
How have you swore no other e'er should thus embrace you!  Gram. 
I swear again, none ever did, or shall.  Fel. 
Tell me not that. Last Night— think on last Night.  Gram. 
Base as I was last Night, I could not break that Vow.  Fel. 
O Gramont! do not deceive me more;  
Lamira boasts the wondrous Love you showed.  Gram. 
To her? If it were Love not once to touch her,  
Or even approach her Bed:— By Heaven I did it not.  Fel. 
I will believe you.  Gram. 
Thou may'st, my Love. I think thou dost forgive me too.  
O let me keep thee then for ever thus!  
For whilst I am possessed of so much Goodness,  
I shall believe I'm honest. Am I not, Felicia?  
No, thou know'st I am not:  
Why dost thou touch me then? Fly, fly away,  
Or thou art lost; not Innocence can save thee.  Fel. 
Alas, what mean you?  Gram. 
'Tis dangerous to be near me:  
If Fate should now be hurling Vengeance on me,  
Might it not strike thee too?  Fel. 
Heaven avert it ever: I would fain  
Hope all may yet be well.  Gram. 
Well! Canst thou redeem my Honour, clear my Fame?  
I shall be pointed at; a noted Villain,  
Where can I fly from the reproaching Sight  
Of all that once esteemed me? Or how endure it,  
When the very Thought strikes such Confusion?  
Better I might have born the worst of Miseries  
That threatened me; which not the meanest Wretch  
That begs, or toils for Bread, but can support,  
And does not truck his Honesty for Fortune:  
Thou, Coward, durst not. Now how whilst thou bear  
The Infamy thy Baseness loads thee with?  Fel. 
Alas, 'tis I have caused your Infamy;  
My inconsiderate Passion has exposed you.  
What Madness moved me to reveal the fatal Secret!  
Was that a Remedy! what could I intend,  
What Consequence expect, but your Destruction!  
O I can ne'er enough revenge it on myself,  
Nor you enough reproach me!  Gram. 
Thou'rt not to blame.  Fel. 
Indeed I am; it was my Duty as your Wife,  
Whate'er I suffered not to have accused you:  
And as I loved, I should have had no thought  
Of my own Misery, whilst you were happy.  Gram. 
How canst thou speak so kindly to a Man  
That has undone thee! Thou dost not sure look forward  
On thy Ruin, or thou couldst ne'er forgive me:  
Nay, by heavens', it stains thy Virtue as I am now,  
To use me with such Tenderness.  Fel. 
Would you not have me love you?  Gram. 
It is not for thy Honour to show Affection  
For one thou must despise: I will not let thee  
Wrong thyself so much, but leave thee to reflect;  
And thou wilt meet me next, as I deserve,  
With Coldness, Anger, and Disdain.  Fel. 
Impossible— You are not going thus!  Gram. 
I should, and thou shouldst not retain me.  Fel. 
I would retain thee ever.  Gram. 
O Felicia!—  
Yet I will go— Look not so killing soft;  
Think on thy Honour; think I am a Villain;  
Learn to despise me; struggle with thy Heart;  
Strive thy ill-placed Affection to remove,  
As I now tear myself from all I love. Ex. Gram.  Fel. 
Is it a Fault to love him? If it be,  
In punishing impute his Crime to me;  
I'll pay for both a double Penalty,  
However cruel Heaven intends his Share,  
Beyond what Life, all, all that Love can bear. Ex. Fel.   

Scene Lamira's House. Lamira and Marian.  Lam. 
When will these struggling Passions cease to rage,  
Anger and Love, Pity and Jealousy!  
Whilst each are striving to possess me wholly,  
They rend my Soul among 'em.  Mar. 
Neither must now have any share in it.  
Since, Madam, you're resolved to leave the World,  
Heaven claims your Heart entire.  Lam. 
Yes, Marian; I have vowed myself to heaven,  
The safe Retreat from Fears and vain Desires.  
But something must be done to satisfy  
The discontent of my disordered Thoughts,  
That no unruly one may there disturb me.  Mar. 
The Place will be your Sanctuary from 'em,  
A holy Cloister, Gates, shuts with the World  
All human Passions and Reflections out.  Lam. 
What, can I there  
Think tamely on my Injuries,  
And be pleased the Villain 'scap'd unpunished?  Mar. 
Do you imagine, Madam, than Bellgard  
Will not revenge you?  Lam. 
Ha, Bellgard!  
Good Heaven forbid; his way would be too fatal;  
Not clear my spotted Honour,  
But stain it worse with Blood: A wicked Justice  
To punish his, by a more horrid Crime.  
I dread to think it! Bellgard is violent,  
And may do sudden Mischief, if not hindered.  Mar. 
Felicia may perhaps have Power to calm  
Her Brother's fierce Resentments; she's mild enough,  
Soon to forgive, and plead for him that wronged her.  Lam. 
Felicia plead! Felicia save his Life!  
And he be her Reward blessed in each other!  
O what a torturing Thought! Can I endure it!  
Nor Love nor Honour can.  Mar. 
You're neither pleased that he should die, or live:  
What way would you dispose him?  Lam. 
Rather to death than her. But there is yet  
Something I would be at, I know not how,  
Scarce what. Ha, is't Gramont! Enter Gramont.  
Com'st thou t'insult o'er one whom thou hast ruined?  
Or think'st thou yet thy Baseness undiscovered?  Gram. 
Not to conceal, but to confess my Crime;  
Not to insult, but to implore forgiveness,  
thus approach you.  Lam. 
How dar'st thou hope I can forgive such Wrongs?  Gram. 
Unless your Goodness, Madam, I must own  
My Hopes has no Foundation:  
I've nought to plead but what must more incense you,  
If I say Castalio's Sufferings moved me,  
Should I to serve a Friend abuse your Love;  
Or if I urge Felicia's dearer interest,  
Th'excuse can but inflame your hatred to me.  Lam. 
Is it then so? Let me hear thee speak  
Thyself a Villain, Is she your Wife?  Gra. 
To her Misfortune, and my Shame, she is.  
Fool, not to think her happiness enough;  
Whilst she was mine, how could I fear to want it?  Lam. 
Tortures and Death! What brutal Insolence!  
Gramont, it seems you came not to incite  
My Pity, but my Vengeance.  Gra. 
Neither, Madam;  
I am too guilty to deserve your Pity,  
And need not urge Revenge, since you can have  
No greater than I mean to give you soon;  
I only beg your anger mayn't survive me,  
Or curse pursue me farther than the Grave.  Lam. 
Is is to hinder that you take such pains  
To let me know to whom I owe my ruin,  
That I may turn my Curses on Felicia?  Gra. 
Heaven forbid! She's Innocent, and wronged  
As much as you.  Lam. 
What are her wrongs? How offered to be named with mine?  
No, Traitor, thou may'st know mine are unequalled,  
When even thy Baseness could not make 'em greater.  Gra. 
Madam, I think I had the power to wrong you more,  
Which my not using may, I hope, in part  
Atone, for what I did.  Lam. 
I know 'twas nor respect for me, nor Honour  
Stopped thee in thy course of Mischief;  
Thy Inclination lagged ere 'twas complete,  
Or thy firm Villainy would ne'er have failed thee.  Gra. 
Can there be such stupidity in Nature,  
To be insensible to so much Beauty?  Lam. 
Ay, now thou hast it; Fawn, and Flatter well;  
Daub o'er my Injuries with soothing words,  
And make me take 'em all for Obligations;  
Say how you Love; say with how much regret  
You sacrificed your wishes; Is it not thus?  
Have not my Charms done wondrous execution?  Gra. 
Had not Felicia first—  Lam. 
No more; thou will'st not suffer me one moment  
To forget that hated name, lest thou  
Shouldst be alone the Object of my rage;  
But fear not, she shall share it.  Gram. 
O rather double it on me.  Lam. 
Fond, doting Fool,  
Thou dost but show me in thy care for her,  
The near and surest way to thy Destruction,  
And I will strike where I may wound thee deepest,  
Add all the Fury of a slighted Rival,  
To the calm justice of Revenge on thee.  Gram. 
Madam, I find whatever I can say,  
But more foments your Anger, therefore leave you,  
I go to satisfy your just resentment  
But if my Death's too little to appease it,  
Rather than punish others for my crime,  
Still hate me, let your rage without control,  
Load me with Curses, till they sink my Soul. Exit Gramont.  Lam. 
Perdition seize it; Despair  
And all the Racks I feel revenge me on thee;  
No fears, no tenderness, but for Felicia;  
Is this the way t'appease my just resentment,  
To tell me 'twas for love of her he wronged me.  
There's then no other way to punish him  
But by the loss of her. They must be parted— Enter Castalio.  
Did I not order none should be admitted?  Mar. 
I did not hear you, Madam.  Lam. 
No matter, you might have thought it was not proper.  Cast 
With all the awe of one that fears t'offend,  
And knows not whether he offends or not,  
I pay this Duty, impatient, and yet more  
In dread to know my fate  
From her that's Mistress of it.  Lam. 
Unseasonable importunity!  
My Lord, I cannot think this meant to me,  
I have no power, alas. not of my own,  
Much less fewer fate.  Cast 
Your fate is heavens' care, and, Oh that mine  
Were yours as much, as it as much is in your power.  Lam. 
You know not what you wish; but let it end,  
'Tis a Discourse I'm not disposed to hear;  
And if, my Lord, you value my repose,  
You'll not pursue it further.  Cast 
Then I am doomed, Doomed to Despair for ever,  
Since but to hear of Love from me offends you.  Lam. 
From you, or any other, I hate the Name,  
And fly from all that wear a Form of kindness,  
For 'tis in that alone Men can deceive.  Cast 
'Tis oft indeed put on for a Disguise,  
Yet must be worn by those who would be known  
For what they really are.  Lam. 
There's no Reality, no Truth in Man,  
But where it most appears, and seems least feigned;  
'Tis there the Masterpiece of Villain lies.  Cast 
You speak as if some one whom you had trusted  
Had deceived you.  Lam. 
Yes, I have been deceived.  Cast 
Who durst attempt it?  Lam. 
One in whom you, and all Mankind have been  
Deceived; O Traitor! Who could have suspected  
That modest show of Honesty and Honour,  
Exquisite, Finished, O ingrateful Villain!  Cast 
The thought disorders you, it must be sure  
Somewhat of weight, that can transport you thus.  Lam. 
I had forgot myself—  
'Tis true, I have some cause to be disturbed,  
But pardon me that I so ill acquit myself  
Of the respect I owe you, thus to expose it.  Cast 
Madam I'll take my leave if I constrain you,  
But wish you could esteem me worth your trust,  
As one by whom all your concerns are held,  
More than in equal balance with his own.  Lam. 
What use of Friendship, Trust, or to complain  
Of Injuries for which there's no redress?  Cast 
There's then Revenge.  Lam. 
But that you cannot give.  Cast 
I think I shall not boast to say, there's no one.  
In your Cause shall dare beyond me.  
Speak who the Traitor is that has abused you;  
And if to do you Antonio's,  
There be an Obstable, or Danger I refuse  
T'encounter, let me be branded for a Coward  Lam. 
There is an Obstacle has greater force  
Than any Danger can, 'tis one you love,  
Whom if I named you would not credit me;  
One you esteem your Friend, your nearest Friend.  Cast 
My Friend! Who durst usurp that sacred name,  
And injure me where I'm most sensible;  
This gives me double right to seek revenge:  
You must not, will not now conceal him from me.  Lam. 
ere long the public Rumour will inform you,  
This cursed adventure will be blazed among'em;  
I shall be made the common Theme and Mirth,  
My Honour lie at every whisperers mercy,  
That's pleased to pass his censure on my conduct.  Cast 
Permit me then to ask it from yourself,  
That if I hear rash tongues too bold with it,  
I may with more assurance vindicate you.  Lam. 
'Tis the most strange unhappy Story, so full  
Of Baseness, heightened with all the aggravations  
Of vilest Treachery and Ingratitude,  
For he had such endearing obligations,  
I hazarded my Ruin, all for him,  
O'erruled by a destructive Passion, nay 'twas Madness,  
The blot of Life, and stain of all my glory.  Cast 
Was he beloved, and yet could injure you!  
How? In what Nature? 'Twas impossible  
For one so blessed, not to return affection.  Lam. 
Would that were all his crime, but he has basely  
Deceived, Abused, wronged me in such a Nature,—  
I cannot speak it— Conscious of my folly,  
For I have been as weak, as he perfidious,  
Press me no further to declare my shame.  Cast 
Then name the Traitor to me, and I will tear  
The Secret from his Heart, with Life extort it.  Lam. 
A Villain's Life's too mean a Sacrifice;  
No, let me think— Somewhat I had designed  
Of lasting torment suited to his Crime—  
That first I'll try; but if without success,  
May use your Friendship,  
Till when, I beg you will inquire no further.  Cast 
Madam I must obey, and will no longer  
Trouble you in this Disorder, but when you are pleased  
To let me know the Man you have been deceived in,  
You shall have proof  
My Soul disdains all Friendship with a traitor. Exit Castalio.  Lam. 
Yes, thou shalt live, to see thyself abandoned,  
And taste with me the Pangs of hopeless Love.  
That one who could be guilty of this Baseness,  
Should know to love with such Fidelity!  
O what a Happiness to possess that Heart,  
So fond, so true! Could it have first been mine!  
What full delights has not Felicia known?  
Eternal woes succeed 'em; be they remembered  
But to increase the Curse of Deprivation,  
The stings of Shame, and causeless Jealousy  
Sharpen the Pains of everlasting absence  
That I decree 'em; Bellgard must be advised with,  
And won, if I have any power with him,  
To set his Rage the Bounds I have given mine,  
I'd not be cruel, nor too tamely bear;  
Both the Extremes are shunned in this Design,  
And therefore 'tis but just to hope success;  
What can Revenge, Honour, and Love, have less?  Exit.   


ACT V. SCENE I.  Felicia alone. 
DIstracted with some dismal apprehension,  
In vain I seek for Ease to change the Prospect;  
What ever way I turn my roving thoughts,  
'Tis still but a new Scene of Misery:  
Were my Gramont safe from my Brother's rage  
And the World's censure, 'twere yet impossible  
Ever to reconcile him to himself. Enter Bell. and Lam.  Lam. 
Whate'er can satisfy my injured Honour,  
May well, Bellgard, be thought for yours sufficient.  Bell. 
I don't dispute it, Madam.  Lam. 
Nor do you grant it.  Bell. 
Honour gives different Laws to different Sexes;  
Mine says this Sword alone can do me justice. Apart.  Feli. 
What can this unexpected Visit mean?  Lam. 
You seem to take me for an Enemy,  
Perhaps you look on me with Rival's Eyes,  
But I am come in Friendship.  Feli. 
'Tis what, indeed, I did not hope, and scarce dare credit.  Lam. 
You're Innocent to me, as I to you,  
Tho both each others chief unphappiness;  
But there's another guilty cause of that;  
Him only we should hate, let us be Friends;  
Disgusted with the World, I have resolved  
The short remainder of this wretched Life,  
To be a strict Recluse by Holy Vows,  
And leave to you, Felicia, the Possession  
Of all that Fortune I am Mistress of.  Feli. 
This is amazing, Madam! How have I  
Deserved from you such kindness?  Lam. 
Your Merit is unquestioned, and to me  
You are a near Relation;  
My Gift is only charged with one Condition,  
The same I have imposed upon myself,  
That you shall never see Gramont again,  
In which I have consulted both our Honours.  Feli. 
It were not much, indeed, for yours to see him;  
But what in you is Virtue, would in me,  
Who am his Wife, be Impious.  Lam. 
Not since he first has broke his Faith with you;  
By that you are absolved.  Fel. 
The Marriage-Vows are not conditional;  
The Tye's as strong, my Duty still the same,  
However he fail in his.  Lam. 
It can't oblige you to depend on one,  
Who wants assistance to support himself.  Feli. 
Yes, Madam, I must share my Husband's Fate,  
However wretched:  
When he's deprived of every other Comfort,  
In that Extremity he'll need me most.  Bell. 
And think'st thou he shall keep thee; be advised,  
Felicia, you may lose him on worse terms.  Feli. 
To me all terms in losing him are equal.  Lam. 
She dotes upon him.  Bell. 
Infamously dotes.  
I tell thee, by my Honour, thou shalt lose  
Both him, and me, wander wherever thou canst  
I will not know thee in the last distress:  
And for thy Villain, Husband—  Fel. 
Let him but wander with me, I ask no more;  
And we will take our weary steps somewhere remote,  
Where we can ne'er be more a Burden to you,  
Nor shall you ever hear that there is such  
A wretched pair in being.  Bell. 
Do not hope it; for by my Life I swear,  
If thou dar'st now refuse to abandon him,  
wherever you think to fly from my resentment,  
There's not a Place so distant can contain you,  
But I'll pursue you to, and tear thee from him.  Fel. 
Do you grudge us even Misery together?  Lam. 
Together! 'Tis a Word, though joined with Death,  
I cannot hear thee Name. Madam, accept  
My offered Friendship, or you shall find  
I can resent the slight, and if provoked,  
Am not a despicable Enemy.  Fel. 
Your hate can execute no worse  
Than what in Friendship's Name you have proposed,  
For 'tis the utmost Fate can do against me.  Bell. 
Shameless creature, to confess this fondness  
For a Man thou knowest to be a Villain.  Fel. 
Alas! what fondness? Have I asked aught for him  
But what the worst of Enemies in malice  
Would condemn him to?  
To taste the Bitterness of Poverty,  
Roving like Vagabonds about the World,  
For ever banished from our Country, Friends,  
And all we hold most dear.  Lam. 
But one another, there you expect to find  
An ample recompense for all you lose,  
And be instead of all the World to him;  
Is that a State for such a Criminal?  
What satisfaction to my injured love?  
No, he shall share the Torments he has caused,  
Languish in fruitless wishes, cursed with Despair,  
Eternally deprived of all he loves;  
Oh I have felt, and know 'tis Death, 'tis Hell,  
That, That's a Vengeance fit for me to take,  
Tho' much too gentle for the traitor's crime.  Fel. 
How has he merited such Cruelty?  
Had he last night when all was in his power,  
Taken advantage of consenting love  
On your unguarded Honour, this Resentment  
Would well become you then, and were but just;  
You know how far he was from such a Thought.  Lam. 
Then he boasts, and makes a Merit of it  
To my Rival.  Fel. 
I thought it one to you,  
It seems you do not.  Lam. 
No, since 'twas meant a Sacrifice to thee,  
Even Honour is my scorn when I must owe it  
To that blind Dotage which I see thee proud of.  
But though thou triumphest now, know, Rival, know,  
That stupid Constancy in ill-placed Love,  
E'er long to both, the greatest curse shall prove.  Bell. 
I'll attend you, Madam, to the Count Roquelaures.  
Now hear inglorious Girl, mark my last words,  
Thy Obstinacy but confirms my Hate,  
Undoes thyself, and wings thy Husband's Fate. Going.  Fel. 
O do not go thus cruelly resolved!  
Stay, Brother, on my bended knees I beg you;  
Cannot these trembling hands a while retain you;  
Give but some days to a poor Sister's tears,  
But till the fierceness of your Rage abate;  
Till you can calmly weigh the wrong he'as done,  
With all the Miseries that led him to it;  
O think what would become of you yourself,  
If Heaven were thus severe for every fault committed,  
And as you hope for mercy from above,  
Now show it to a Brother's first offence.  Bel. 
To one that Heaven detests! No, may I ne'er  
Find Mercy there, if ever I forgive him.  Exit with Lam. Fel. 
He's bent on Death, and nothing can avert it;  
I've done, and here will lie to wait the wound  
That through Gramont's, will shortly pierce this Heart:  
I shall behold him soon, Stabbed, Mangled, Murdered.  
O barbarous Brother! O Gramont— He's lost,  
I ne'er shall see him more, but Cold and Ghastly;  
Breathing his last, and weltering in his Blood,  
Then there's an end of all my Miseries,  
For that I can't outlive: O must I live to see it! Weeps.  Enter Gramont. Gra. 
Upon the Floor! O most afflicting sight!  
Thither the weight of Woes I've heaped upon thee  
Has pressed thee down; this is a Scene of sadness  
More expressive, than the most moving words.  
Why art thou thus, Felicia? Thou shouldst not so  
Indulge thy griefs, be calm and well consider,  
As now thy Circumstances are, what way  
May best be thought to make thee least unhappy:  Fel. 
There's not a Medium:  
I can have no Misfortunes if I've you,  
Nor ever think of Happiness without you.  Gra. 
Alas, Felicia!  Fel. 
You pity me, as if  
You knew how cruelly I have been used,  
How deaf my Brother is to all my Prayers.  Gra. 
Do not offend him, there is hopes, my Love,  
When I am gone, he'll still be careful of thee.  Fel. 
Gone! Then you can think of going from me;  
Of leaving your Felicia.  Gra. 
In Life I ne'er can leave thee;  
And there's not a Pain in Death, but that.  Fel. 
You speak, methinks, as one resolved on Death!  
Must you conspire too with those that hate me?  Gra. 
Thou'st cause to wish, I'ad died before thou knew'st me.  Fel. 
I could not then have felt the loss,  
But now the very fear is insupportable;  
'Twas that had filled my bursting heart overwhelmed,  
And laid me on the Earth, as now you found me:  
And 'tis the only blow of fate, I have not strength to bear.  Gra. 
How can I hear thee speak so tenderly,  
And think I have undone thee! O Felicia!  
Thy love gives double weight to my afflictions:  
What is there should induce me then to live?  Fel. 
If you have any love for me, the Thought  
How miserable I shall be without you.  Gra. 
I know too well thy tenderness of Nature,  
Know I am too much loved; but thou may'st learn  
By thy unhappy Husband, there's not a State  
So miserable, but may with greater ease  
Be suffered, than Dishonour; wouldst thou not blush  
To live with one distrusted, shunned and looked on  
As a Knave by all Mankind? Can I,  
Or wouldst thou have me bear it?  Fel. 
I could for you:  
The World's Opinion would not weigh with me  
Against your least disturbance.  Gram. 
Why will you plead so earnestly a Cause,  
In which if you believed you could prevail,  
You would yourself despise me?  Fel. 
There was a time  
When I might be assured I should prevail;  
When the least show of Discontent from me,  
Had power to shake your firmest Resolution;  
But than you loved me.  Gram. 
Do I not love you!  Fel. 
You see me drowned in Tears, overwhelmed in Grief,  
Hear me implore, and bore it all unmoved!  Gram. 
Unmoved! You know not what a War you've raised within me:  
There's not a word you speak, but would overcome me;  
But when I think thou'lt share in my Disgrace—  
For that I know thy Love would make thee do.  Fel. 
No, no, Gramont, were your Concern for me,  
'Twould most be shown where I am most concerned;  
But there you are insensible, or think not,  
Or care not, what I shall suffer.  Gram. 
O 'tis a Thought divides me from myself,  
Staggers my Resolution, makes me wish  
The greatest Curse, that thou couldst hate thy Husband;  
Every, every way; I must undo thee;  
'Tis only left me now to choose the noblest,  
And that should be endured with least Afflictions.  Fel. 
You've found the way indeed to shorten mine;  
Already your Unkindness breaks my Heart!  Gram. 
Thou art unkind to use such wounding words,  
That know'st my Heart too tender to endure it.  
What wouldst thou have me do?  Fel. 
O what indeed! For what should I entreat,  
Now all that soft, that dear Affection's lost,  
That once could have denied Felicia nothing!  
What have I more to lose?  Gram. 
I can deny thee nothing: where wilt thou lead me?  
Every Tear thou sheddest draws with it my Heart's Blood;  
Rather than see thee thus, I'd bear with Life,  
With Infamy: Must I, Felicia? shall I?  Fel. 
Nothing for me; I am not worth your Care,  
And Death will quickly free me from my Woes.  Gram. 
Thou art my only Care; take, take me to thy Bosom.  
There hide me from my Shame, and from myself;  
Do with me what thou wilt, but let me never think—  Fel. 
Would you forsake these Arms,  
That tremble with delight whilst they embrace thee?  Gram. 
Talk on, and let me gaze on thee for ever,  
Till I forget there's aught on Earth besides,  
And thou art Goodness, all, all Joy and Blessings.  Fel. 
Would you forget there's aught on Earth but me?  
Then sure you could for me forsake the rest:  
Could you for ever leave the busy World,  
To seek with me some unknown, distant Refuge,  
Whither the Ills we fear can ne'er pursue us?  Gram. 
Alas, thou talk'st but as thy Love would have it;  
Thou know'st too well it is not in my Power.  Fel. 
Had I not thought it was, I should not have proposed it.  Gram. 
Could I provide thee even but the bare  
Necessities of Nature, what's beyond,  
I know thy generous Kindness well could spare:  
But can I take thee hence to see thee perish,  
Under the Extremities of griping Wants  
Thou hast not felt, and canst not apprehend  
The smallest of those Hardships, to which thou wouldst expose  
Thy tender Body, does far surpass thy Strength?  Fel. 
Love will supply my Strength; and as I can,  
I'll labour for our Food, or beg an Alms;  
And we shall find some friendly Barn to shelter us  
At night, whilst we repose our weary Limbs.  
But could you, my Gramont, endure your share?  
And if the Product of our Toils falls short,  
Take cheerfully the Scraps of Charity?  
Sometimes perhaps your Sleep may be disturbed  
By a poor hungry Infant's Cries; could you  
With patience bear it? Could you in such a state  
Find any Joy in me? Would you not leave me,  
Leave me, and my poor Condition?— My Love,  
Why this? The Tears are starting at your Eyes!  Gram. 
Is this thy Fate at last? and must I see thee  
Suffer all the Miseries, which when  
I did but fear, for thee, overcame my Virtue!  
'Twas this Idea, and have I brought 'em on thee!  
Made thy Ruin more inevitable!  
Give me Patience, Heaven; that I should force thee  
To this wretched state!  Fel. 
'Tis my choice;  
I have preferred it to a splendid Fortune,  
Which now is offered me.  Gram. 
What Fortune? Or how offered?  Fel. 
Lamira's; she leaves the World, and would have bribed me  
With her trifling Gift to part with you.  Gram. 
Did you refuse it?  Fel. 
Could I do otherwise?  Gram. 
'Twas reproaching me, did you not then think?  
By Heaven I know you did. With scorn you thought  
This was the Bait, this Bait which I despise,  
'Twas that seduced my Husband.  Fel. 
Not from your Faith to me; that you preserved;  
Tho' by provoking her you hazarded  
The loss even of the Bait that tempted you.  
Have I done more for you?  Gram. 
Yet there's a cause  
That will induce you to accept the Offer;  
Your Son, Felicia, he must perish else?  Fel. 
He must submit to share his wretched Parent's Fate.  Gram. 
His Fate is yet more cruel! I durst not tell thee,  
Loath to increase the Sorrows that too deeply pierced thee;  
But since 'tis in thy power to redeem him—  Fel. 
Redeem him!  Gram. 
From Pirate's hands: But yesterday  
The fatal News was brought me.  Fel. 
O 'tis too much!  Gram. 
Weep not, but think how thou may'st ransom him.  Fel. 
Alas, have I thee means?  Gram. 
Thou may'st: But I, I always am an Obstacle,  
Where any Good's proposed Turn, turn, Felicia,  
All thy Tenderness, upon that dear,  
Innocent part of me; thou dost misplace it here.  Fel. 
At any other rate I would preserve him;  
But in exchange for you, he's only dear to me,  
As he is yours.  Gram. 
Then as he's mine, I beg thee to relieve him.  Fel. 
O 'tis the strongest Trial! But to part with you,  
That, that's the hard Condition! Impossible!  
Is there no other hope? no way to free him?  
Somewhat I must endeavour; perhaps your Father  
May compassionate his Innocence.  
Tho' his unhappy Parents have offended.  Gram. 
Try, my Felicia, if there's any mixture  
Of the least Tenderness in his hard Nature,  
Thou hast Power to extract it.  Fel. 
ere this he knows our Marriage,  
Thither Lamira going hence intended.  Gram. 
Then haste, my Love, before th'impression ta'en  
From her Resentment, strike too deep for thee t'efface.  Fel. 
I will, but dare I leave you: Will you promise,  
Till my return, to shun my Brother's sight?  Gram. 
What need of Promises? Thou know'st thy Power.  Fel. 
May I rely upon your Love?  Gram. 
Thou wouldst, if thou couldst know with what reluctance  
I now part with thee, scarce could it be  
More sensible, if we were ne'er to meet again.  Fel. 
Perhaps we never may.  Gram. 
Why saidst thou that?  
Thy sad foreboding Words stuck to my Heart  
As if Fate had pronounced 'em.  Fel. 
Then I fear  
Fate has indeed pronounced 'em.  Gram. 
We'll disappoint it,  
Cling to each other thus, and never part.  Fel. 
We shall not at this rate; unless you throw me  
From your Arms, I have not power to leave 'em.  Gram. 
No, thou shalt not.  Fel. 
Is then your Son forgot?  Gram. 
Alas, my Child! it will be so; 'tis vain  
To strive, for Destiny's irrevocable.  Fel. 
And we must part.  Gram. 
But must I lose thee too!  Fel. 
If Destiny will have it.  Gram. 
Thou'rt gone!  Fel. 
O my Gramont!  Gram. 
Farewell.  Fel. 
I fear for ever. Ex. Fel.  Gram. 
For ever! Never see thee! O Felicia! Enter Castalio.  
Castalio! the Man I most would shun:  
How shall I look on him, or how receive him!  Cast 
This is beyond my hope: I came to ask  
Where I might find my Friend, and I have met thee.  
Let me embrace thee, give thee thy Castalio,  
Thine my Gramont; for 'tis from thee I hold  
My Freedom, Life, and Honour, I've nothing that's my own,  
Nothing of worth but what I owe to thee.  Gram. 
My Lord, you owe me nothing.  Cast 
Is this the way to meet my clasping Arms?  
You answer too with an unusual Strangeness,  
And wrong me with a Title less than Friend,  
The only one I glory in.  Gram. 
Yet 'tis the only one dishonours you.  Cast 
To be called your Friend?  Gram. 
When you know me, you will disdain the Name.  Cast 
'Tis therefore I am fond of it, because I know you.  Gram. 
For what I seemed; but till this day I never  
Rightly knew myself.  Cast 
I know you better than you do yourself.  Gram. 
Do you know me for a vile, a coward Wretch,  
That dare not look Ill Fortune in the Face,  
And only sides with Honour till Interest clashes with it.  Cast! 
You give me the Reverse of what you are.  Gram. 
I said you did not know me.  Cast 
Not in that Character:  
I know you firm to Honour, have seen you dare  
The worst of Fortunes, Malice: Is't not for Honour  
You have now incurred a Father's Anger,  
And exposed yourself to all the Ruin  
That must follow it.  Gram. 
Perhpas that was my Mind of yesterdays.  
I may have changed it since; rely on no Man;  
He that this Hour is honest, the next may be a Villain.  Cast 
I think you're changed indeed; your Words are wild,  
Your Looks disordered; Heaven preserve your Reason.  Gram. 
Heaven rather take it from me: 'Tis the best wish  
For me, unless I could recall the past:  
There's nothing now in future Fate but Madness  
Can give me any ease.  Cast 
It grieves my Soul to hear you! Have better Hopes,  
I may have power to serve you; why thus reserved?  
We've used with Friendship to beguile our Griefs,  
Whilst we discharged 'em on each other's Breast.  Gram. 
Let me forget I ever had your Friendship.  
'Tis now the greatest Torment of my Thoughts,  
When you no more can cheer or pity me,  
Can be that Friend no more.  Cast 
Not less a Friend for being more unhappy,  
I'm still the same to you.  Gram. 
Oh, O Castalio! were I still the same!  
But now—  Cast 
What now?  Gram. 
Spare me this Heaven; drive me where I may ne'er  
Behold this Man, and let me be exposed  
The public Scorn, marked out for Infamy,  
And hooted by the gaping multitude,  
Not all the Ignominy th'united World  
Could heap on me, would half so much confound me  
As but to look on him, and think what once  
I was in his esteem, and O what now I am!  Cast 
Am I so dreadful! Trust me I'll use you gentlier,  
Than you would yourself; what is't you labour with?  
Shall I assist you in the Pang of Birth?  
Somewhat you've done amiss which you repent of;  
Let me be Judge, for you are too severe:  
I know you ever would condemn yourself  
With strictest Rigour for the smallest Frailties.  Gram. 
Is't me you speak of?  Cast 
I've chid you oft, and yet I loved you for it.  Gram. 
And would you then have thought I could commit  
The basest, meanest, the most treacherous Action?  Cast 
Impossible.  Gram. 
I thought so too; it seems we were mistaken.  Cast 
What have you done? I have a Friend's Concern,  
And aught to know it.  Gram. 
Indeed I don't deserve your least Concern;  
But for your Peace of Mind inquire no further;  
Believe I am unworthy of your Friendship,  
And think of me no more; but if you hear my Name,  
Avoid the Story that must follow it;  
For you would hate yourself, if you should know  
How ill you had placed your Kindness.  Cast 
You make me still  
More eager to inquire; by our past Friendship,  
I conjure you tell me, your Heart seems bursting  
With the fatal Secret, and yet you will not vent it.  Gram. 
Can you not guests?  Cast 
I cannot; nor let me longer  
Importune to learn it from yourself.  Gram. 
Have you not some remembrance what yesterday  
I said my Father had proposed?  Cast 
Which you refused?  Gram. 
Perhaps I did not.  Cast. 
Did not what.  
I mean what was not in your power t'accept.  Gram. 
What's that?  Cast 
The Marriage.  Gram. 
Why not in my power?  Cast 
Because it would have been the highest Baseness.  Gram. 
Are base things never done?  Cast 
You could not do it.  Gram. 
O Friend!  Cast 
I'll not believe it.  Gram. 
You think too well of me.  Cast 
I'm sorry for't.  Gram. 
Now than you know me rightly.  Cast 
Could you—  Gram. 
Urge not my Crime against me, it needs not;  
Your awful Virtue checks, and strikes me deeper  
Than your Reproaches can.  Cast 
I've thought too far; it can't be yet completed;  
You've only given Hopes you would comply,  
Perhaps a Promise.  Gram. 
'Tis done; less had not gained my end,  
Which partly is accomplished; you are free;  
I had no other means of serving you.  Cast 
And did you think I prized my Honour less  
Than Liberty, that I would have it purchased  
On dishonest Terms? You know Castalio  
As little as I have hitherto known you.  Gram. 
In what I did, I gratified myself,  
Nor aimed I at Acknowledgements from you.  Cast 
You might have made your own Advantagehen  
But what had I to do with your mean Tricks?  
Was't not enough I suffered in my Friendship,  
But you must undermine my Honour too,  
And draw me for the Prize of Villainy?  
I'll not endure it.  Gram. 
All the Dishonour's mine.  Cast 
Can I share the Profit, and not the Infamy!  
Who is there seeing me enjoy this Freedom,  
That will not think I'm pleased, nay, was Accomplice  
In the Guilt that wrought it? The Air I breathe,  
The every Step I tread reproaches me,  
The Terms on which 'twas gained, 'twas basely done.  Gram. 
There's not a Term that's vile enough for me;  
But 'twas a Villainy too much my own  
To reach your Fame. How could you be Accomplice?  
Nor is it known what means was used to free you:  
It can't reflect on you.  Cast 
It shall not;  
I disdain t'accept inglorious Liberty:  
Take back the shameful Ransom; I'll to Prison,  
And resume my Chains; bestow the Purchase  
Of your Treachery on Knaves, I'll none of it.  Gram. 
Stay, stay, my Lord, there's yet a surer way  
To clear your Fame, the Blood of him that stained it:  
Take, take my Life, 'tis a just Sacrifice,  
You owe it to yourself, to Honour,  
And the Name of Friend so long abused.  Cast 
Is this the Man  
I called my Friend! And was I thus deceived!  
I find indeed Lamira well observed,  
There's the least Truth, where most it does appear.  
Ha! that thought has roused one that alarms my Heart;  
She said 'twas one esteemed my Friend that wronged her;  
Is't possible that he, the Man whom I  
Preferred to all the World, should be ordained  
The Ruin of the only thing besides  
That could be dear to me!  Gram. 
What said you, do you love her?  Cast 
Whom, what her? 'Tis not Lamira thou'st abused.  Gram. 
Nothing but this could aggravate my Crime,  
Or my Remorse; and was it wanting, Heaven!  
Must every Blow which I, or Fate strikes for me,  
Fall heavier still on him! Why, why is this!  Cast 
That I alone may have the right of Vengeance,  
Which now my Injuries are ripe for: Traitor,  
Defend thy Life.  Gram. 
A Traitor's is not worth defending;  
Freely I resign it; 'tis a Burden  
Which I would bless the Hand that frees me from.  Cast 
Coward, thou wou'st preserve it; thou know'st I scorn  
To take it thus unguarded.  Gram. 
You ought to take it as a Criminal's;  
Nor dare I lift my Hand against a Man  
Whom I have so much wronged, as if I meant  
To justify my Baseness.  Cast 
'Tis all the Satisfaction thou canst make,  
And I demand it of thee.  Gram. 
My Life I offer,  
I open to your Point, and stand your Justice  Cast 
Is't thus you should maintain a Lady's Favours?  
Not with this Coldness you received her Kindness,  
Whilst in her Arms you revealed. Death and Hell!  
That such a Villain should, tho' but one Moment,  
Be possessed of all that Bliss! O 'tis a Heaven to think,  
And 'twas all his, all the transporting Beauties  
In his Power! Cursed, torturing Thought!  Gram. 
You causelessly torment yourself: I've not possessed.  Cast 
How's that? You said you had married her.  Gram. 
'Tis true; last night.  Cast 
And not possess! Come, doubly damn thyself,  
Forswear the Wickedness thou hast committed;  
Swear thou hast not enjoyed her.  Gram. 
I swear by all things Sacred.  Cast 
Thou'rt perjured.  Gram. 
May then the Perjury be ne'er forgiven,  
If I have falsely sworn.  Cast 
What could prevent it?  
'Tis unusual to leave a Bride  
Upon the Wedding-night. Where were you then?  
For I must know the truth.  Gram. 
With her.  Cast 
Do you trifle with me?  Gram. 
No; what I have sworn, is truth.  Cast 
Could she be so reserved not to consent  
When it might bear the Colour of a Duty?  
Impossible!  Gra. 
I did not ask.  Cast 
That's more impossible;  
Do not abuse me  
With a soothing Tale;  
I am too much concerned to be imposed on,  
And be assured will clear to the least doubt;  
Answer me then, what hindered you to ask?  Gra. 
My guilt already hung too heavy on me.  Cast 
But how? On what pretence? How would she bear the slight?  
Once more I say, I will not be deceived;  
Therefore 'twere vain t'attempt it—  
But now I will be calm, and as a Friend,  
Conjure you tell me punctually what past.  Gra. 
I made some weak excuses, which, at first,  
She seemed to take, till having further proved  
With little Arts the temper of my heart,  
She imputed it to indifference for her,  
Then grew suspicious of some prepossession  
To which she thought herself a Sacrifice;  
Some words that slipped from me confirmed her in it,  
And worked her to a Rage, in which she left me.  Cast 
And did you calmly, firmly, stand all this!  
Th'insinuations of her softer Passion,  
Her pangs in Jealousy, and her Resentment,  
What Man could have the force!  Gra. 
'Twas your good Genius, doubtless, gave it me,  
I have nothing of my own, but Weakness, Baseness.  Cast 
This were enough to cancel yet a Greater,  
To see her in the height of all her charms,  
Loosened to Love, and languishing desire,  
And not be tempted! By Heaven, I think I had  
Myself been lost; not all my Honour could  
Have guarded me against so strong a Trial;  
Instead of the Reproaches I designed,  
I must confess an awful Admiration,  
Amazed and conscious of superior Virtue.  Gra. 
What Virtue was't in me? I looked not on her  
With a Lover's Eyes: O that I had known you did,  
But I was never worthy of your trust.  Cast 
Fearful of my success, I would have hid  
My weakness from myself, yet in the hopes  
Bellgard might influence her, to him alone  
I ventured to disclose it.  Gra. 
To Bellgard!  Cast 
He promised to assist me with his Interest.  Gra. 
To assist you!  Cast 
You know his Power with her.  Gra. 
Too well I know it; 'twas he proposed, nay urged  
This Fatal Marriage, which but for him  
Would never have been thought on.  Cast 
Is't possible?  Gra. 
Most true.  Cast 
Perfidious! Bellgard, You have betrayed me basely. Enter Bellgard.  Bel. 
Betrayed you!  Cast 
Basely I said, and thus maintain it; Draw.  Bel. 
I scorn a Baseness; You tax me most Unjustly.  Cast 
Then right yourself.  Bel. 
My Sword would be employed  
Much better to my choice, against that Villain.  Cast 
If Villain be the Mark, mine is as well directed.  Bel. 
Ha!  Cast 
Were you not Instrumental in his Marriage?  
You pressed it on; nay, were the first Proposer.  Bel. 
I was; but knew I then—  Cast 
You knew enough  
To make it a base Injury to me,  
If you dare vindicate the Treachery;  
Guard well your Life, for that must answer it.  Bel. 
What I have done will bear a calmer Test;  
I would be justified, for yet I'm tame.  Cast 
Say rather, thou'rt a Coward.  Bel. 
Provoke me not,  
Or to your cost you'll find I am no Coward.  Cast 
I've found you to my cost a Viler thing;  
Dissembling, False, and Faithless to your trust.  Bel. 
As free from either as yourself, Castalio.  Cast 
He that dares say it, Lies.  Bel. 
Nay then— Bell. Draws. They fight, Gra. interposes.  Gra. 
Bellgard!  
Castalio! What means this Rashness? Am not I  
The Cause of your Debate; the fittest object  
Of your rage? On me your Points should turn;  
Or hear at lest what each has to allege;  
My Lord, I beg you hold.  Cast 
You have your wish. Gram. accidentally wounds Cast  Gra. 
By all my Crimes, this cursed Hand has struck him!  Cast 
Methinks I feel 'tis too the hand of Fate;  
It seems to have reached at Life.  Gra. 
Heaven forbid!  
But is it to be doubted? Did I e'er  
Endeavour the prevention of an Ill,  
But I became the Cause, and made it surer?  Bel. 
A Curse attends the best designs of wicked Men,  
And didst thou hope to prosper?  Gra. 
Castalio! I have killed him; my blood is chilled  
With horror of the Deed;  
Now is it time  
To sink me to th'abyss? Or I have yet  
More mischiefs to perform?  Bel. 
No, 'tis thy last;  
But I must clear myself to you, Castalio;  
Then for Revenge. Be witness for me Heaven,  
That I not only did acquit myself  
With honour of the Trust reposed in me,  
But with the Zeal of a most heaaty Friend;  
Nor ceased I till Lamira had declared  
She never could return your Love, and owned  
Her folly there.  Cast 
Gramont has every way been my destruction.  Gra. 
What a Heart breaking sound! Was it for this  
You saved my Life? Is this the best return  
A Friend could make? Happy for both you had  
Been less a Friend, than you had lived to bless  
Mankind, and I had died without their Curse,  
And all this weight of guilt upon my head:  
But blood atones for blood, it shall be so.  
O 'tis too sure! Life staggers in his Eyes!  
Yet, yet support it, one moment to behold  
A Justice done you.  Bel. 
'Tis well thought on; haste then to give it him. Offering to fight.  Gra. 
No more of that; you said I had done already  
My last Mischief; now for the first good Action  
Oh my Life, this to Castalio's Wrongs. Stabs himself just as Roquelaure, Lam. and Felicia enter.  Cast. 
'Tis too much.  Fel. 
O Heaven!  Lam. 
Desperate remorse!  Roq. 
O my Son!  Fel. 
Now you are satisfied, now you have killed him;  
Inhuman Brother, Tigers, Murderers, Devils!  Gra. 
O my Dear! Thy Grief's my sharpest wound.  Fel. 
Is this the Promise you in parting made me!  Gra. 
Look there, and tell thyself if I could keep it.  Fel. 
Castalio Dying!  Gra. 
Murdered by this hand.  Cast 
An Accidental blow.  Roq. 
Unhappy Son, of a more wretched Father!  Gra. 
My Lord, a Dying Son dares ask forgiveness— Enter Bern  
Bernardo! Thou art come to imp my ascending prayers  
With juster Imprecations: behold what I have done.  Bern. 
O my dear Lord!  Cast 
If thou hast loved me, express it not in grieving,  
But in endeavouring to defend my Fame  
Against the Malice of my Enemies.  Bern. 
It needs not, the General's treachery is detected  
By those he had suborned, and he disgraced,  
A Messenger is from the King arrived,  
Inviting both Gramont and you to Court,  
With high Expressions of his Royal Favour;  
And offers of what satisfaction you demand  
For all your Injuries.  Cast 
Bear him my dying thanks; now I am ready:  
'Tis enough my Honour will survive me,  
And I was born to die. Dies.  Gra. 
O what a Wretch was I, that could not wait  
heavens' time; the Providence that never fails  
Those who dare trust it, durst I have been honest,  
One day had changed the Scene, and made me happy.  
But O your Son, Felicia!  Roq. 
I'll take him to my care.  
I've been to blame in using thee so harshly;  
But all that's thine shall find my kindness doubled;  
Felicia's now my Daughter, as thy Wife,  
She shall be dearest to me.  Gra. 
Then all my cares are ended. Be happy, my Felicia,  
If thou'dst have thy Husband's Spirit rest. Dies.  Roq. 
He's gone for ever!  Fel. 
O! O!  Roq. 
'Tis heavens' will, my Child— Some help she swoons.  Lam. 
How tenderly she loved him, poor Felicia! Fel. Swoon upon the body, womans, Attendants come about her.  Roq. 
Pity from one who needs it more she!  
What Reparation can be made, Lamira?  Lam. 
The World can make me none; there's nothing here  
But a Vissicitude of Miseries:  
If there is any Joy that's permanent,  
It must be in that calm, that heavenly State,  
To which my future days are dedicated.  Bell. 
'Tis the best Asylum for humane Frailty,  
Of which Gramont is a most strange Example,  
He was by Nature Honest, Just, and Brave,  
In many Trials showed a steady Virtue;  
Yet by one sharp Assault at last was vanquished;  
None know their Strength, let the most Resolute  
Learn from this Story to distrust themselves,  
Nor think by Fear the Victory less sure,  
Our greatest Danger's, when we're most secure.    
FINIS.   

EPILOGUE, Spoke by Mrs Barry.  
FIrst Ladies I am sent to you, from whom  
Our Author hopes a favourable Doom,  
As Friends to Virtue, since 'thas been her End  
Vice to discourage, Virtue recommend;  
You've seen revenged an injured Woman's Cause,  
And to such justice can't deny Applause,  
Felicia too expects you should approve  
A Wife's Fidelity, and Tender Love;  
Protect her Character as you'd be thought  
The Bright Originals from which 'twas wrought.  
Next to the Men I come, but cannot plead  
Your likeness as a motive to succeed,  
We rather hope none here will be offended  
Because none here could think himself himself intended;  
Not one of you so sullenly would slight  
A yielding Fair, at least not the first night,  
You could not have the hearts, nor I believe  
Would you to such a height as he deceive,  
'Twould startle you no doubt, for not to wrong ye,  
One Wife is thought too much by most among ye.  
Since I have done you justice, be this Day  
As just to us in censuring our Play,  
Not with Grimace, and words all noise, and Huff,  
Damn it, a Woman's! that must needs be Stuff;  
At Reason's Great Tribunal she'd appear,  
Tho' she has most from her decree to fear,  
But so condemned, conscious of justice done,  
Perhaps she'll mend, at least her faults, she'll own.  
If they are such as care may well correct,  
No pains to please you better she'll neglect,  
But if what she believes Poetic Rage,  
Is found th' infection of a Seribling Age,  
For ever she'll forsake the Darling Stage.   

BOOKS Printed for Francis Saunders, at the Blue-Anchor in the New-Exchange.  
THE Temple of Death, a Poem by the Marquis Normanby. Horace of the Art of Poetry, made English by the Earl of Roscommon. The Duel of the Stags, by Sir Robert Howard, with several other Poems by the Earls of Rochester and Orrery, Sir Charles Sedley, Sir George Etheridge, the Right Honourable Mr. Montague, Mr. Granvill, Mr. Dryden, Mr. Chetwood, Mr. Tate, and Madam Wharton.  
An Essay on Poetry, by the Marquis of Normanby in English. The same in Latin by another Hand, with several other Poems of the Right Honourable Mr. Montague, Mr. Stepney, Mr. Arwaker, and Mr. Tate.  
Poems on several Occasions. By Mrs. Behn, with a Voyage to and from the Island of Love.  
Heroic Love. A Tragedy, by the Honourable Mr. Granvill.