THE Heroick-Lover, OR, THE INFANTA OF SPAIN.  
By George Cartwright, of Fullham, Gent.  
LONDON, Printed by R. W. for john Symmes, at the Cross-Keyes in S. Paul's Churchyard, near the little North-door, 1661.   

TO THE High and Mighty MONARCH OF GREAT BRITAIN, CHARLES the Second, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, etc.  
Resplendid Sir,  
I Had both consideration, and modesty enough, to have forborn this saucy attempt, in the Dedication of this Heroick-Lover, to Your Royal Self; but when I called to mind, the many, and extraordinary favours, Your Majesty received at the Spanish Court, in Your sad necessitated retirement thither who next to Heaven, were both the Preservers and Restorers of Your Royal Person here: I should have committed a double sin, in recommending the protection of this Infanta, to any other, but Your Majesty; the one of ingratitude to their unparallelled courtesy; and the other, of injury and offence, to Your sacred Majesty; in presuming that any was more willing, or more able, to defend her, than Your Greater Self. It is a Poem, consisting more of fatal Truth, then flying Fancy: penned many years ago, but not published till now: the Muses among our sad misfortunes here, suffering an Eclipse: which I hope Your most Illustrious Rays will overpower, and give an encouragement, suitable to so high and noble a faculty, as other your Majesty's Ancestors have done: more especially, that never to be forgotten Martyr, and Mirror of our Age, Your Majesty's most Resplendent Father. What discountenance soever it shall meet withal in the world, so it hath but the honour of Your Royal approbation, it will be more than sufficient to protect  
Your Majesty's most Humble and Loyal Subject, George Cartwright.   

The ACTORS.  

The Scene in Poland.  
The King Of Poland.  
The Prince His Son, in love with Francina, but married to Princess Flora the Infanta of Spain.  
The Princess Flora, the Infanta of Spain, The Prince's wife.  
The Cardinal, The King's Favourite.  
The Lord High Admiral Of Poland.  
The Lord Marshal Of Poland.  
The Lord Controller Of the King's Household.  
Zorates Lord High-Chamberlain.  
Selucious Lord Precedent.  
Nonantious A Noble man, and the Princes confident, in love with Francina.  
Bellarious A young Lord, brother to Francina, and in love with Symphrona, who in his return from France was took by the Turks at Sea, and afterwards escaped, and then turned Hermit.  
Francina A handsome Lady, beloved of the Prince, who upon the death of Nonantious turned Nun.  
Symphrona A beautiful Lady, Mistress to Bellarious, who upon the report he was taken by the Turks, turned Nun, fearing he would never get his freedom.  
Sotus and Lycus Two of the King's Household servants.  
expeditious Servant to the Lord Controller.  
Crocus Servant to the Lord Chamberlain.  
Guard, and divers others.    

THE Heroick-Lover, OR, THE INFANTA of Spain.  


The first Act, the first Scene:  Enter Lycus and Sotus. Lycus. 
KIngs with their Greatness, have their troubles too,  
And many times, are puzzled what to do:  
Shifting from place to place, to find out rest,  
So are their heads, with discontent possessed.  
According to the Nature of the times,  
Or else proceeding, from their proper crimes:  
Requiring sometimes, more than is their due,  
Or else refused, what them belongs unto;  
No man, not knowing so, to hold the scale,  
As hinder King, or Subject, to bewail.  Sotus. 
Good faith 'twas ever so, and so 'twill be,  
So long as at the Court, dwells Flattery.  
So long as private end, shall challange place  
As only Favourite, unto his Grace.  
How is it likely, he should see aright,  
When he must see, but by another's sight?  Lycus. 
Which is the cause, so many men complain,  
And that so few, do come away with gain.  
Did men's requests, come to the Prince's ear,  
More courteous to them, sure he would appear,  
Then let them sue, for that which is but just,  
So many years, as now adays men must.  Sotus. 
The City's weary, and the Country too,  
And something shortly, murmur for to do.  
They will no longer, have the King abused,  
Nor let themselves, so rigidly be used.  
But how to do't, they are not yet agreed,  
Out of the Court, such nettles for to weed.  Lycus. 
Pray Heaven, they may do all things for the best,  
Procuring to the King, and Kingdom rest.  
Shooed they reform things, with too strict a course,  
Instead of mending, they wooed make things worse.  
It is no small a matter, to know how,  
To win a King, and make a Subject bow.  Sotus. 
Report says, that they do intend by Bill,  
Unto the King, to show his Subjects will.  
How that they are, by Taxes so oppressed,  
They cannot live, nor in their houses rest,  
For Maltuties, which have thereof the charge,  
To screw the people, by Commission large,  
Gave from the Cardinal, whom they'll demand,  
For satisfaction, at his Royal hand.  Lycus. 
They may demand, but 'twill be but in vain,  
For of his Grace, they will not him obtain.  Sotus. 
If that by fair means, they can't compass it,  
They will by foul, endeavour him to get.  Exeunt.  

The second Scene:  Enter Prince alone. Prince. 
HAd I my fair one, in this silent Grove,  
To tell my passion, and declare my love  
How short this day, wooed unto me then seem,  
And how much give, its hours to redeem.  
Where at my ease, I might behold and court,  
And fear no living creature, to report,  
The stolen blisses, which I might receive,  
If she were pleased, so to give me leave.  
Tell her, how every day augments my flame,  
And that 'tis she alone, can quench the same.  
How much her eyes, have made a Prince a slave,  
Which does rejoice, that honour for to have.  Enter Nonantius. Non. 
The King your Father, sent me you to seek,  
And tell you too, that with you he wooed speak.  Prince. 
I am not lost, except it be in love,  
To tell how much, the object me does move.  
But where's his Highness? 'tis not long ago,  
I left his Grace, pursuing of a do.  Nonant. 
He is returned implease you, and does set,  
Now with his Counsel, of the Cabinet.  Prince. 
Well, I come, but before I hence depart,  
I must, and will, disclose to thee my heart.  
Of all my Father's Subjects, thee alone,  
I have picked out, to make my passion known.  
I doubt not of thy secrecy, and zeal,  
And therefore with thee, I will plainly deal.  
'Tis fair Francina, lodges in my breast,  
And moves me so, I cannot take my rest.  
I prithee tell her, that I love her so,  
And press her likewise, to believe me too;  
That for her sake, I value not my Crown,  
Nor yet my Fathers, nor my Subjects frown.  
Nor Heaven itself, shooed Heaven oppose my heat,  
My passion is for her, so monstrous great.  Non. 
Sir, may I speak, and not your Highness move,  
She merits well, but not from you such love.  
You are a Prince, and heir unto a King,  
Which is upon my word, no little thing.  
Consider well your birth, and your degree,  
And you will yield, 'tis your infirmity,  
To love with passion, one so much below,  
Your rank, and Greatness, as we all do know.  Prince. 
Come, come, I know, this is but for to try,  
How hot my flame is, and my constancy.  
Thou lov'st me, and my ease, I know too well,  
In this opinion, ever for to dwell.  
Thought I but otherwise, by my soul I vow,  
One minuit more, I wooed not thee allow.  
She is a Princess, and of better blood,  
Then I myself, by how much she's more good.  
'Tis not enough, to be a Princess born,  
Except she virtues have, to her adorn.  
She's by virtue, what others are by birth,  
Which is we know full well, the nobler earth.  Non. 
Without all doubt it is, but you may have,  
A Princess both ways, and your honour save  Prince. 
Think'st thou that I, can any honour loose,  
A handsome, virtuous Lady, for to choose?  
No, no, I cannot, do what I command,  
And I will to the other hazard stand.  Non. 
Since that your Highness, is resolved to love,  
Make choice of one, that's fitter it to move.  
To tell my own, alas I am too weak,  
How can I then, another's passion speak?  Prince. 
I will not trust another, only thou  
Of all the world, this business best canst do.  Non. 
Then I will do my utmost, though I die,  
Since doing so, I serve your Majesty.  Exeunt.  

The third Scene:  Enter King, Cardinal, Admiral, Martial and Controller, in Counsel. King. 
'TIs time my Lords, the Prince shooed have a wife,  
To be a stay, and comfort, to his life.  
His age, and Ours, do it require with speed,  
The Kingdom of our issue, having need.  
Wherefore your Counsels, we shall gladly take  
To help us, our election for to make.  Card. 
Sir, like a Father, you do kindly deal,  
Both with the Prince, and with the Common-weal.  
There is no man, but must confess the care,  
Your Grace does take, since all men it must share.  Admiral. 
Your goodness likewise, equally commend,  
Since our advice, to ask you condescend.  King. 
Then freely deal with us, and also plain,  
If 'twill not proper be, to match with Spain?  Control. 
Sir, since that I, may freely speak my heart,  
I think it not convenient, for my part.  
My reason is, that now the King of Spain,  
Is scarce in case, his Kingdom to maintain.  
How then will he, be able for to lend,  
Succours if need shooed be, to help a friend.  
I rather think, the Danish Princess shooed  
More sitter be, if that your Highness wooed,  
Be pleased to accept it at his hand,  
Which by Ambassador, he does demand.  
Besides the wealth that Kingdoms does possess,  
With plenty so of all things, in excess,  
To be allied, unto that Crown wooed be,  
More advantageous, to your Majesty.  
He being near, unto you seated so,  
He wooed no doubt, offend you more being foe.  
And if your friend, he's proper to defend,  
And at an hour's warning, succours send.  
But I am weak, and simple, and may err,  
Wherefore it to your judgements, I refer.  Marsh. 
My Lord says true, that Spain in such a case,  
Can by no means, aid or assist your Grace.  
But that which makes me, chiefly of his mind,  
Is that your Highness, will not Pistols find,  
Which make without dispute, the strongest hold,  
For you can nothing do, without you've gold.  
And if that you have store, your Highness may  
Prevent a foe, your Kingdom to inveigh,  
And with it keep, your Subjects too in awe,  
If they shooed chance, to grumble at your Law:  
As for to match, into the Danish Land,  
I know not how, it will with honour stand,  
They having broke, their word with you, you know.  
You promising to aid, not long ago.  
Wherein they plainly showed, their love and zeal,  
Both to your Highness, and to your Common-weal.  
I rather think, the Swedish Princess might,  
In this your choice, pretend the greatest right;  
For as she's rich, so by the Laws o' the Land,  
She like a Prince, has power to command.  
Which is a thing, not common every where,  
That women to a Sceptre, shooed be heir.  
In taking her, into the Prince's bed,  
A Crown, and Sceptre, you will likewise wed.  Admire. 
Sir I do think, and likewise will maintain,  
That 'tis most proper, for to match with Spain.  
'Tis true, the reasons that my Lords do give,  
Are very strong, if Spain shooed always live  
In war, and never hope to have a peace,  
Which f'rought we know, to morrow next may cease.  
We ought, in weighty matters of the State,  
Wink at the present, and the future wait:  
Except in case, your Majesty shooed be,  
Urged to embrace, by some necessity:  
Which as I know, there is none yet so great,  
As off this match, your Majesty to beat.  
The King of Denmark, all men know full well,  
So timorous is, that he'd not stick to sell,  
The dearest friend he has, himself to free,  
From the oppression, of an enemy.  
Nor wooed his friendship, were it firm and good,  
So useful be, as t'other to your blood.  
As for the Swedish Princess, who takes her,  
Must look to wed, into a world of stir.  
Except he'll worship, or at least permit,  
That they the Gods, shooed serve as they think fit.  Car. 
These Lords, dread Sir, the business so have scanned,  
And argued to and fro, we have in hand,  
That they have left, not much for me to say,  
Therein unto your Majesty this day.  
Yet what more I know, I'll be bold to speak,  
Since my advice, it pleases you to seek.  
As I conceive, the matter in debate,  
Is to find out, th' advantage of the State.  
Now Sir, the question that will hence arise,  
Is which of these, you chiefly ought to prize.  
A mighty Monarch, in another sphere,  
Or else a Prince, less powerful that's near.  
As 't has been said, the King of Spain 'tis true,  
Is at this present, very hard put to.  
Yet is he not, as men do think so poor,  
But that he can, afford you Pistols store.  
Which is as much, as if he men did lend,  
Were you compelled, your Kingdom to defend.  
As for the King of Denmark's amity,  
So much as tother, 'twill not useful be.  
My reason is, that as he has less power,  
So is he false, and changing every hour.  
The Swedish Princess, as my Lord well said,  
Is most improper, for the Prince to wed,  
By reason of his Faith, and her belief,  
Which doubtless daily, 'twixt them will cause strife.  
Besides the private fears, that will arise,  
That your Grace their Errors, shooed favourize.  
Thus all things laid together, sure with Spain,  
It is most fit to match, their loves to gain.  King. 
We have with great attention, heard you all,  
One word unto the ground, not letting fall,  
Wherein we see, we are not in one thing,  
More happy, then in you, in being King.  
To whom we are obliged very much,  
Your love, and counsel, unto us are such.  
And 'tis resolved: but whom shall we ordain,  
Our Lord Ambassador to go to Spain?  
To let his Greatness, for to understand,  
That we that Princess, for our Prince demand.  Car. 
My Lord Controller, please your Grace would be  
Extremely fit, to tell't his Majesty.  King. 
Then you, our Lord Ambassador we choose,  
Commanding you, your power for to use,  
In our behalf, to compass this affair,  
And for that journey, quickly to prepare.  
As for your full instructions, they are these,  
How that his Highness, wooed vouchsafe and please,  
To honour us, to match into our Race,  
That we may be, allied unto his Grace.  
And thereupon, give him to understand,  
That we the Princess Flora do demand,  
In marriage with the Prince, our eldest son,  
Who will be King, when we are dead and gone.  
Thereto, be careful likewise, for to add,  
That with his Highness, we shooed be most glad,  
To make 'gainst all, if he'll so please to do,  
A league offensive, and defensive too.  
As for the marriage sum, you shooed demand,  
We think it better, to his pleasure stand.  
He like himself, if he inclines to hear,  
Without all doubt, will honourably appear.  
Yet if in case, you shooed be urged the sum,  
Five hundred thousand pounds, wooed us become.  
Our Admiral, will order take you shall,  
For one of our best Ships, not stay at all.  Control. 
Since me your Majesty, has chosen out,  
Of all, the most unworthy without doubt,  
To serve your Highness, in this great affair,  
I will with diligence, myself prepare;  
And do what in me lies, for to discharge,  
The trust your Grace does put, in me so large.  
Within this two days, I will put to Sea,  
If that the wind, shall favourable be.   

The fourth Scene:  Enter Symphrona and Francina. Sym. 
NO news dear Madam, of my Lords return?  
But half so much as I, did he but burn,  
No doubt but quickly, he wooed come away,  
And make more haste, loves tribute for to pay.  
Out of his memory, am I then cast,  
'Cause in my bosom, him I've kept so chaste?  
Must I rewarded be, with such neglect,  
Because I've had for him, so much respect?  
'Tis more than cruel, if it must be so,  
But I'll not him condemn, until I know.  Fran. 
I wonder at his stay, and 'tis most strange,  
But I am sure, his love will never change.  
You are, sweet Madam, placed too near his heart;  
With his consent, from thence to ere depart.  
Some chance or other, may be in the way,  
As often haps, to cause him to delay:  
Which troubles him, no doubt as much as you,  
To which he fears, to make you privy too.  Sym. 
What chance can there be, I'd not sooner hear,  
Then so at all, to hear not from my Dear?  
I may imagine, that which is not true,  
In such a case, as often Lovers do,  
A thousand things, present to our belief,  
Which entertained, abuse, and mock our grief.  
Were it not better, to hear the truth at large,  
Then with so many doubts, our minds to charge?  Fran. 
It is not by your favour, always meet,  
To hear the truth, of what we may regret:  
Especially for us, who by our sex,  
Are weak, and apt, at little things to vex.  Sym. 
Term you that little, which I term my all?  
You will not do so, when in love you fall.  Exeunt.   


The second ACT, the first Scene:  Enter King, Prince, Zorates and Selucious with a Petition, and divers others. Zorates. 
WE come implease you Sir, for to present,  
As from your loving Subjects, being sent,  
This humble Bill, and to entreat withal,  
You wooed be pleased, to quit the Cardinal.  
And leave him to the mercy of the Law,  
Which he contemns, and will not stand in awe.  
These twenty years, your people have endured,  
Without all hopes, to have their ease procured,  
With mighty patience, all things at his hands,  
Which he still exercised, as your commands.  
Now what with taxes, they are grown so poor,  
They are not able for to give you more:  
Except you'd have, their wives, and children, die,  
For want of bread, to pay your Majesty.  
Which they believe, you wooed be loath to do,  
Which makes them to your Highness, now to sue.  King. 
D' you know my masters, what you do demand,  
The Cardinal requesting at our hand?  
Sure if you did, you wooed not be so bold,  
To ask the man, which does our Sceptre hold.  
Which does from falling off, preserve our Crown,  
And all men's lives, that are in this same Town:  
Who like a faithful Shepherd, watches so,  
Both night and day, to keep us from our foe.  
Where had we been long since, had not his care  
Preserved us, from falling in the snare,  
The Turk, for want of faith, for us prepared,  
The good whereof, you equally have shared?  
And wooed you we shooed be so void of sense,  
Him so unlike a King, to recompense?  
No, no, we won't, nor can we yet forget,  
All his past cares, although that you can it.  
And more than that, we make it to be death,  
For any so to us, to ' ope his breath.  
As for your taxes, we will order take,  
That more they shall not make, your heads to ache:  Prince. 
What monstrous men, implease your Grace are these,  
Whom nothing but a Cardinal, will please!  King. 
Retire, and leave the Prince, and us alone;  Exeunt. 
We sent for you, to make our pleasure known.  
We are you see, already old, and gray,  
And shortly must, our debt to nature pay.  
Before we die, we shooed be glad to see,  
You well bestowed, to have posterity.  
We with our Counsel, have debated which,  
May be the most convenient match, and rich.  
At last, we have concluded, that with Spain,  
You marry must, if they'll it entertain.  
Besides the private interest of State,  
Which shooed persuade you, to embrace it straight.  
She is extremely fair, and virtuous too,  
A fitting Princess, every way for you.  
Witness this Picture, if we say not true,  Shows picture. 
Which as Don Stato says, to life he drew.  
We out of hand, have ordered for to go,  
Our Lord Ambassador, their minds to know.  
Who tells us that to morrow, without fail,  
If that the wind holds good, he'll set up sail.  SIR Prince. 
As you are King, and I your son and heir,  
I shooed be sorry, wilful to appear.  
I am your Subject, therefore aught to show,  
By my example, others what to do.  
Yet Sir, I cannot choose, but blame my Fate,  
To tie my love, to any act of State.  
In this, although a Prince, I see I have,  
Not freedom, like a Subject, or a slave.  
Command, or order any man, wooed you,  
To marry one, he had no mind unto?  
I do believe, your Highness is too just,  
To will in such a case, that any must,  
For Heaven sake, I entreat you not to be,  
To any, less severe, then unto me.  
I am your son, bone of your very bone,  
And can you be so cruel, to your own?  
You cannot sure, nor will't I hope you move,  
To tell you, that this face I cannot love.  
There's something in her nose, and in her eyes,  Views the picture. 
Which with my fancy, does not sympathize.  
The colour of her hair, is too too brown,  
And by her looks, she seems on me to frown:  
As if that nature, did prognosticate,  
That there wooed be, 'twixt us, less love than hate.  King. 
We use to say, that men in love are blind;  
You love not, yet you see not, well we find.  
How can that face, in reason you dislike,  
Which with such admiration, us does strike?  
Had you but wit, for to conceive the good,  
That you may reap, to match into that blood:  
Were she deformed, for that you wooed not stand,  
But quickly do what we do you command.  Prince. 
There is no good, I value like a wife,  
With whom a man must live with all his life.  
Could I but marry for a day, or two,  
And put her off, when I'd ha' mind to do:  
To take a creature, that I could not love,  
Wooed not unto me, inconvenient prove.  
But when I wed her, for an unknown time,  
Knowing that not to love, is no small crime:  
Your Highness shall do well, to let me choose,  
One I can love, and like a Princess use.  
As for aught else, Heaven knows I'd rather die,  
Then live, and not obey your Majesty.  King. 
Then do what Heaven commands, for 'tis Heaven's will,  
That you your Father's pleasure, shooed fulfil.  Prince. 
But shooed my Father, bid me do a thing,  
(May I so boldly speak unto the King)  
Which is unjust, or otherwise not fit,  
For me to do, wooed Heaven allow of it?  King. 
Who shall be judge, of that which you call fit?  Prince. 
None but just Heaven, Great Sir, shall judge of it.  King. 
But Heaven ordained us here, to judge below,  
Of things as we shall please, we'll have you know.  Prince. 
But if you judge amiss, another day,  
As well as others, you must for it pay.  Exeunt.  

The second Scene:  Enter Nonantious alone, and afterwards Francina, and hearkens. Nonant. 
DId I but know what I do go about,  
I wooed not be so forward, without doubt,  
As to pronounce, the sentence of my death,  
As I must do, so with my proper breath.  
To court a Mistress, was it ever known  
To love another, done of one alone?  
Could one example, only be but found,  
I might have cause to think, my sense's sound.  
But there is none, none yet was ever known,  
To be so foolish, but myself alone.  
Then do it not, than I shall disobey,  
Do, or not do, criminal every way.  
Of evils, choose the lesser of the two,  
They are so equal, I know not which to do.  
My love to fair Francina, bids me not;  
My duty to my Prince, can't be forgot.  
How both, the balance hold, so just and true,  
That willing both, I know not which to do.  
But why shooed I love her, who me does scorn?  Echo. 
Because thy love's no bastard, but true born.  Nonant. 
Why do her good, who me does use so ill?  Echo. 
'Cause 'tis thy duty, and thy Princes will.  Nonant. 
Then I will do't, to make my love appear,  
Both to my Prince, and to my Saint so dear.  Fran. 
Well, what's your business with me? I was told,  
To ask for me again, you were so bold.  Nonant. 
I was implease you Madam, it is true,  
So bold as yesterday, to ask for you:  
But you were not at home, which made me now  
So bold again, which you'll I hope allow.  
I come not now, as I was wont to do,  
My love and passion, to make known to you.  
With chosen words, to court you to be kind,  
And think you cruel, 'cause that I was blind▪  
No, no, I know, my merit is too poor,  
For to importune you, so any more.  
I must confess, I soared then too high,  
To let my fancy, after you to fly.  
My business now, is of another kind,  
If you'll have patience, for to hear my mind.  
And faith to credit, what I've charge to say,  
Which, I wooed rather do, then disobey.  Fran. 
And faith to credit, what you ve charge to say?  
Doubt not of that, if me become it may.  Nonant. 
To be a Princess, wooed become you well,  
And in a stately Palace, always dwell.  
Have maids of Honour, 'bout you to attend,  
And Lords of quality, at hand to send.  
On all occasions, to make known your will,  
To such as you wooed have, it to fulfil.  Fran. 
I understand you not; or speak more plain,  
Or else your words, will be but spent in vain.  Nonant. 
Then to be brief, and make you understand,  
The Prince does love you, and did me command  
On my allegiance, for to tell you so,  
And press you likewise, to believe me too.  Fran. 
The Prince love me! it cannot be believed,  
Unless I had a mind, to be deceived.  
Alas my faith, is not so saucy yet,  
Into my thoughts, it easily to admit.  Nonant. 
You may believe me Madam, it is true,  
And very certain, what I say to you.  Fran 
To me my birth, and breeding is so known,  
That if 'twere not but only, that alone,  
It were enough, no doubt, to humble me,  
And me possess, with incredulity.  Nonant. 
Were you that, which you say yourself to be,  
The Prince stands not in need, of dignity.  
He has sufficient, for himself and you,  
Were you less noble, and less virtuous too.  Fran. 
I question not the truth thereof; but you  
I rather think, this of yourself do do,  
To try if that the name, of Queen can move,  
And tempt my resolution, for to love.  Nonant. 
Ah Madam! you are cruel to think so,  
More cruel far, then in the scorn you show.  
That I shooed be so wicked, and so base,  
‛ Tabuse, not only you, but too his Grace.  
I am no Devil Madam; you may say,  
And think your pleasure, while that I obey,  
For had the Prince, not urged me o'er and o'er,  
As I have told you Madam, heretofore,  
To make his royal passion, known to you,  
Which then I said, I was unfit to do:  
I ne'er had meddled, in this love affair,  
The fruit whereof, I could not hope to share.  
Helas! Heaven knows, I careful was to sound,  
And look with diligence, into his wound,  
Showing unto him, 'twoo'd not fitting be,  
By reason of the great disparity  
'Twixt you, and him, which he did seem to slight,  
And value for your sake, extremely light:  
To see if it were dangerous, or no,  
Before I wooed resolve, to let you know.  
When finding it, to be a wound indeed,  
And that he mortally, for you did bleed:  
I feared to be guilty, of his death,  
In such a case, to spare to ope my breath.  Fran. 
I know not which is greater, of these two,  
Your love, or wisdom, if that you say true.  
But I am firm resolved, to wed with none,  
And so unto the Prince, pray make it known.  Exeunt.  

The third Scene:  Enter Zorates, Selucious, and Admiral. Zorates. 
WE must by all means, quickly out of hand,  
Seize on the strongest places of the Land.  
Which that we may perform, and better do,  
We must declare, and to the people show,  
That the Militia, to us does belong:  
And that without our care, they can't be strong,  
Nor yet secure, so much as for an hour,  
From any foreign, or Domestic power.  
Then put in such, in whom we may confide,  
Whose zeal unto the Kingdom has been tried:  
And thrust out those, whom justly we suspect,  
The common good at all, not to affect.  Admire. 
Upon my word, the matter you propose,  
Is not so easily done, as you suppose.  
You'll find a harder business, without doubt,  
Than you conceive, to compass it about.  
You must so many persons discontent;  
Displacing them, without the King's consent:  
That if you had no other rub alone,  
'Twoo'd hinder your design from going on.  Selu. 
If that be all, we have not lost our hold,  
So long as we can compass, store of gold.  
That joined with a pretence, that's somewhat fair,  
Will tempt the vulgar, any thing to dare.  Admire. 
That is 'tis true, the life and soul of war;  
But with our King, to wage it be it far  
From us, who are his Subjects, not his foes,  
And are obliged, to purchase his repose.  
There may no doubt, a better way be found,  
To heal the Kingdom, and make all things sound,  
Then by so rude a course, to let it blood,  
If that the manner how, we understood.  Zor. 
But since the King, refuses our request,  
Which tendeth only, to his Royal rest;  
What other course, can we conceive to take,  
If not by force, his Majesty to make?  Admire. 
Entreat him twice, or thrice, and if that then  
He will not grant, beseech him thrice again.  
A Subject, aught to have no other sword,  
To force his Prince, than a submissive word.  
If that will not prevail, we ought to have  
Recourse to Heaven, and his assistance crave  
To sweeten him, and mollify his heart,  
It not belonging, justly to our part.  Selu. 
It by your favour, does belong to those  
Which steer the State, to punish all its foes.  
Now if that he, to save them will pretend,  
We do not ill, ourselves for to defend.  Admire. 
Do so, but not with his own weapons then,  
Nor so, as misbecomes discreet Statesmen.  Zor. 
What weapons else, have we except the Law,  
Which he esteems, no more than a Jack Daw,  
Because the Cardinal, instructs him still,  
That he shooed rule, according to his will:  
And know no other Law, but what he makes,  
When, and so often, as his fancy takes.  
Whom from his ear, we must and will remove,  
Though to the Kingdom, it shall fatal prove.  
You know it well enough, if you'd but speak,  
And us assist, them of their wills to break:  
As it does aptly, in your power fall  
To aid us now, as you are Admiral:  Admir. 
Are you my Lord in earnest, or in jest?  
So strange I vow to me, seems your request!  Zor. 
My Lord I am in earnest; 'twere a crime,  
In jesting now, to spend away the time.  Admire. 
No, no, I'll not consent, to such a thing,  
When namely so to do, you'd make me King.  
Were he a Tyrant, or a Prince unjust,  
It were no argument, to break my trust.  
Heaven on conditions, gave him not to me,  
Unless it were for me, 't obedient be.  
wherefore I'll faithful be; be what he will,  
He is my King, and I his Subject still.  
A tie so close, and strong, that one cannot  
Undo it well, except he breaks the knot.  Selu. 
'Tis not to break it, for the Kingdoms good,  
'Tis to preserve it, and the Subjects blood.  
We will maintain you in a thing so just,  
Into our hands, do but resign your trust.  
What can the King, in his own person do,  
Without his Subjects, for to succour you?  
'Tis not the name of King, that makes him strong,  
That only to his people, does belong.  
That Prince upon my word, is most secure,  
Which of his Subjects love, is always sure.  
Think you that Heaven, placed on his head a Crown,  
For to oppress, and keep his people down?  
No, no, you are deceived, if you think so,  
The King is to himself, the greatest foe.  Zor. 
And you will be, one of his greatest friends,  
If you will help, for to correct his sins.  
There is no better way to take him down,  
Then let him know, who 'tis upholds his Crown.  
Without a King, there is no question we,  
May live if that we will, most happily:  
So cannot he, without his Subjects live,  
For it is they, which to him life do give.  Admire. 
Your Doctrine is of Devils; I fear to name  
The words which you have uttered, without shame,  
That I shooed help, for to correct the King,  
Were he the worst, of any living thing!  
Or were his Royal soul, more black than Hell,  
Far be't in me, such wickedness shooed dwell!  
Let Heaven, who sees more clearly than we do,  
And with less passion, his correction show.  
To us, who cannot judge of common things,  
Does not belong, the judgement of great Kings.  
They shooed be like stars, seated in the Sky,  
Far from our reach, though seeming near our eye.  Zor. 
But in mean while, we'll keep you in our reach,  
And to you better doctrine, likewise teach.  Enter Guard and carry him to prison.   


The third ACT, the first Scene:  Enter Symphrona and Francina. Symphro. 
AH Heavens! what change is this! why weep you so,  
Sweet Madam! the occasion let me know;  
Speak quickly then; you kill me with delay;  
My apprehension, will no longer stay.  
There's something 'bout my Lord, I'll lay my life,  
Which causes in your spirits, this same strife.  
Say? is he killed? or is he drowned at Sea?  
Or will he not, no longer faithful be?  
O how I bleed! and how my soul's in pain!  
The reason of these tears, from you to gain.  Fran. 
Why do I live? or why have I the power,  
To keep this frame, together for an hour?  
Were it not better, I were in my Tomb,  
Then live, and thus unfortunate become?  
No doubt it were, if Death wooed be so kind,  
To take me hence, to ease my troubled mind.  Sym. 
Good Madam out with it, what e'er it be,  
Me of a thousand, thousand doubts to free.  
Be't what it will, to speak it do not fear,  
For I am ready, and prepared to hear.  Fran. 
You know not what you say, in saying so,  
Unless the thing, you certainly did know.  
Can you be prepared of a friend,  
To hear the story, of his fatal end?  Sym. 
To be prepared to hear it, is no sin,  
So that no pleasure I do take therein.  
But what mischance, may't be I cannot hear,  
Without offence, unto my chaster ear?  
Dear Madam, let me know it, though I die,  
And be partaker, with the Destiny.  Fran. 
Then to be brief, and make you understand,  
What I have heard, from one that by did stand,  
Who had not then, escaped this news to tell,  
Had he not known, to swim exactly well.  
My brother had no sooner put to Sea,  
With hope, and joy, to visit you, and me,  
But presently was spied, not far to lurk,  
A man of war, belonging to the Turk,  
Which made towards him, with all their might and main,  
Not doubting quickly, but their prey to gain.  
The Captain of his Ship, who as I'm told,  
Was Seaman good enough, and very bold,  
Thought it more sure, them striving to out-sail,  
Then rashly hope, by fighting to prevail:  
His Vessel being small, and so ill manned,  
It 'gainst the other, could not likely stand,  
And thereupon, commanded all his men,  
To stand unto their trackling, stoutly then:  
And made all haste they could, to get away,  
If that the wind, their wishes wooed obey.  
Which did for half a day, hold very good,  
They still escaping, though they were pursued.  
At last, the wind whose humour is to change,  
Became so the sudden calm, a thing not strange:  
Which hindered them, they could not farther go,  
They in the reach, still being of their foe.  
Who then were fain to try, to do by force,  
That which they could no longer, by a course:  
But all to little purpose, on my word,  
For they their Vessel, quickly laid aboard.  
Helas! I have not strength to speak the rest,  
wherefore dear Madam, I leave it to be guessed.  Sym. 
Ah Heavens! why have you broke my sweet repose?  Falls in a swoon. 
I in this world, have nothing more to lose.  
I've lost my all, and more I do not crave,  
Since that my Dearest, Dear's, become a slave.  Fran. 
Sweet Madam be of cheer, and grieve not thus,  
Your sighs, and tears, cannot help him, nor us.  Sym. 
O give me leave, I pray now at the least,  
To grieve for that, which cannot be expressed.  
Had he been killed, or downed, or had grim Death  
Which spareth none, by sickness seized his breath:  
It wooed have been more welcome, to my ear,  
Then that which from you, Madam, I do hear.  
For than I might have been, extremely sure,  
More pain, and torment, he could not endure:  
But now I know he lives and lives in pain,  
Without all hopes, his freedom for to gain.  
Good Gods! how can I choose, but sigh and grieve,  
To have no power, my Lord for to relieve.  Fran. 
I cannot blame you Madam, rather must,  
Commend these tears, and say your sighs are just.  
Yet were he dead, you lesser hope wooed have,  
Since none e'er yet, did ever quit the grave.  
You cannot tell, he may so happy be,  
As by some means procure his liberty.  Sym. 
It is not likely, since the Turk le's go,  
No man for love, or money, you do know.  
And he will not commit, a crime so foul,  
As for his freedom, give away his soul.  
Ah Heavens! could but my life his ransom be,  
How with it I wooed part, most willingly!  Exeunt.  

The second Scene:  Enter Prince alone. Prince. 
Could I but compass, what I so desire;  
And what with reason too, I do admire:  
Then shooed I think myself, a Prince indeed,  
And to desire, shooed never more have need.  
Had I been Child, unto some Country blade,  
Or to some meaner person of a trade,  
I might have chosen, where I might have loved,  
And from my Mistress, never been removed:  
Whereas, being born a Prince, and so more free,  
I am less master, of my liberty.  
I cannot marry, but I must ask leave,  
And from my Subjects, order too receive.  
Perhaps take one, I can by no means love,  
Because some reason, in the State does move.  
Unhappy reason, so to force one's faith,  
For one, for whom, he no affection hath.  
Princes in love, less happy are I vow,  
Then maids that milk, or men that go to plow.  
And how, and how, does our affair succeed,  Nonantious enters. 
Does she believe, my soul for hers does bleed?  
How does she relish, and digest my love?  
Will she be kind? or will she cruel prove?  Non. 
Implease your Highness, I have done my best,  
Not any thing omitting, unexpressed;  
Which might persuade, and move her to believe;  
Yet for all that, she cannot it conceive.  
She says her faith, is not so saucy yet,  
To let her entertain, and harbour it.  
That she her birth, and breeding, knows too well,  
To ere permit, in her, such thoughts shooed dwell.  
Unto which words, I presently replied,  
Your Highness, was so royally allied,  
You had enough, both for yourself, and her,  
And that you virtue, did 'fore birth prefer.  Prince. 
Well, thereunto, what answer did she make?  
Could not that argument, her captive take?  Nonant. 
Good faith Sir no, she seemed thereat to scoff,  
And rather nearer, to be farther off.  
All the fine words, I could invent and make,  
Had not the power, her constancy to shake.  
I told her to be wife, unto a King,  
Was not, no little, nor no common thing:  
No more then for to have, at her command,  
So many Nobles, barehead for to stand.  
All which she heard, but with so cold an ear,  
That she did seem to harken, but not hear.  
A Virgin she's resolved, to live and die,  
And so she bid me tell, your Majesty.  Prince. 
Good Heavens! is't possible she can be so,  
Both to herself, and to her Prince a foe?  
If that my person, cannot make her love,  
Has not a Crown, the power her to move?  
Of what cold earth, has nature her composed,  
Against all reason, so to be disposed?  
She will not wed, then wherefore was she made?  
If that she will not, with us mortals trade?  
Yet I will not the siege, raise for this blow,  
But will her mind, in my own person know.  Exeunt.  

The third Scene:  Enter King, and divers followers. King. 
GO tell the Cardinal, and Marshal thus,  
That 'tis our pleasure, they shooed come to us.  Exeunt. 
Leave us alone: that we shooed him remove,  
Whom 'bove our life, and Kingdom, we do love!  
No, no, we'll never do't, we'll rather die,  
Then either him, or else his Counsel fly:  
My Lord you're welcome, to our Royal ear,  Cardinal enters. 
we've news to tell you, set you in this Chair.  Card. 
Implease you Sir, I know my duty well,  
And where my distance, likewise aught to dwell.  King. 
Set down we say, for 'tis our Princely will,  
That you in this, our pleasure shooed fulfil.  
Be covered too, and then we will proceed,  
To tell you that, which makes our soul to bleed.  
Our Subjects grieved are, and say the cause,  
Proceeds from you, 'cause you despise our Laws:  
Advising us, to govern them by will,  
Which they to us, presented have by Bill:  
That every day, their taxes more and more  
Do so increase, that they are grown so poor,  
They are not able, by no means to live,  
Nor to their wives, and children, bread to give:  
Which ought to be, most sensible to us,  
To see them for our sakes, to suffer thus.  
We must my Lord, think on some way to ease  
Them out of hand, their fury to appease:  
Lest letting them, so long in vain to wait,  
They shooed become, incensed, and desperate.  
But that which grieus us most, is, they demand,  
Your precious person, at our royal hand:  
And will on no conditions, be at rest,  
Until of you, they fully be possessed:  
Which we in justice, cannot yield unto,  
We are my Lord, so much obliged to you.  Card. 
In nothing else, I think myself so poor,  
As that I cannot, serve your Highness more.  
It is implease your Majesty, no news,  
To hear the common people, me accuse.  
These many years, they've had at all no shame  
To threaten me, and likewise blast my name.  
But still I have preserved me, from their reach,  
And will in time, them better manners teach.  King. 
What can we do, against a multitude?  Car. 
Do as you've done, use them extremely rude.  King. 
But that will but provoke them more and more.  Car. 
The way to keep them down, 's to keep them poor.  
For shooed your Highness, let them wealthy grow,  
And suffer them, no misery to know;  
They wooed on all occasions, able be,  
For to rebel, against your Majesty.  King. 
But we have pased our Royal word, to ease  
Them of their taxes, if that, them will please.  Card. 
Then you have done, that which you will repent,  
Think you they will with that, themselves content?  
No no, upon my word, they will pull down,  
If that they can, from off your head your Crown,  
I know too well, the nature of those men,  
How that there's not amongst them, one in ten,  
Which truly loves, the title of a King,  
So is it to them, such an odious thing.  
They wooed that all men, shooed in common live,  
And have no Law, but what themselves do give.  Marshal enters. Marsh. 
Your Lord High Admiral, implease your Grace,  
Was even now, arrested 'fore my face;  
And carried to the Castle, in all haste,  
There close prisoner, to be shut up fast.  King. 
What says our Marshal? speak it once again,  
For to conceive you, we have mighty pain.  Card. 
I cannot blame your Highness, 'tis a thing,  
Sufficient to astonish, any King.  Marsh. 
Your Admiral implease you Sir, I say,  
Was carried even now, by force away.  King. 
Who is't, that was so saucy, and so bold,  
Without our order, on him to lay hold?  Marsh. 
The men which did the other day, by Bill,  
Present unto your Grace, your people's will.  King. 
Our Admiral in prison! can it be!  
Just Heavens, though't cost our Crown, we'll set him free:  
We will not long, there suffer him to lie,  
And too much less, consent he e'er shall die.  
To us his services, are too well known,  
To let him under, such a burden groan.  
We cannot with him, so un-King-like deal,  
Who has so much obliged, our Common-weal.  
No, no, we'll make, those blacker souls to know,  
That more respect, to us they ought to show,  
Then to arrest, without our Royal leave,  
Any, which we done't criminal conceive.  
Think they, we hold this Sceptre here in vain,  
And over us, will suffer them to reign:  
Men namely which more cruel are, then wise,  
Which God, and all Religion, do despise?  
Or think they, we'll content us with the name  
Of King, and not in power, be the same?  
No, no, by Heaven, we'll make their pride to fall,  
And will be King, or else not King at all.  
Go fetch the heads, of those two Monsters straight,  
And clap them fast, upon the City gate,  
To serve for terror, and example too,  
To any that hereafter, so wooed do.  
And break the prison doors, to set him free,  
For we'll not stay, until they oped be.  Marsh. 
Implease your Grace, I'll make what speed I may,  
Your Majesty in this, for to obey.  Exit. Card. 
This is the language, of a King indeed,  
And of such men, the means for to be freed.  
Shooed not your Highness, with such rigour deal,  
You'd quickly overthrow, your Common-weal.  
It is no little danger, for to give  
The rains to such, which know not how to live.  King. 
'Tis true my Lord, but yet too strict a course,  
Ofttimes does make some men, but ten times worse.  
Had we to deal, with men of wit and sense,  
They could not be misled, by aught pretence.  
Pray Heaven, our Kingdom, and our Crown defend,  
From that which we so much, do apprehend.  Car. 
What can your Highness, apprehend, I'd know,  
Considering that you have, no foreign foe?  King. 
A Domestic one, is worse my Lord by far,  
Shooed we be forced, to a Civil war.  Card. 
That's not likely, they may perchance rebel,  
But long resist, believe't they cannot tell,  
Because you do possess, implease your Grace,  
Every Town of strength, and warlike place.  King. 
Well, hap how 'twill, we Heaven to witness take,  
We will not strike, until that us they make.  
And 't shall be with regret, and sorrow too,  
So 'gainst our Subjects, to be forced to do.  Enter Spedicious with a dispatch from Spain. Sped. 
My Lord does humbly kiss your Highness hands,  
And too with all, sent me with these commands.  
'Tis news, implease your Majesty from Spain,  
To tell you how the match, they entertain.  King. 
Here, kiss our hand, how does your Master? well?  
Has no mischance, him in the way befell?  Sped. 
No, none implease your Majesty, he did  
Arrive with acclamations, at Madrid:  
So joyful were the people, for to hear,  
The cause, and Subject, of his coming there.  King. 
'tis well, our business needs, must take effect,  
Since that the common people, it affect.  Exeunt.  

The fourth Scene:  Enter Francina alone. Franc. 
THe Prince love me! and so against my will,  
Repeat, and urge me, him for to fulfil!  
Good Heavens! what kind of man and Lover's he,  
So for another, to transported be,  
As be more earnest, in the Prince's cause,  
Then in his own, as than I found he was?  
Was it for want of Love? why then did he,  
Press it with so much importunity?  
Since that he could not choose, but know the good,  
Must needs redown to me, and all my blood.  
And if he loved me, as I do believe,  
Why did he seek, a Rival to receive?  
It was because, I might a Princess be,  
No doubt, which is in love a mystery:  
That on his own content, shooed so contem,  
To let his Mistress wear, a Diadem.  
Oh love not to be equalled! now I must  
Or love again, or else be most unjust,  
He that my scorn, and slight, could not offend,  
Ought in all reason, to my love pretend.  
'Tis not a Crown, can pluck away the dart,  
Which love has shot so deep, into my heart.  
Nor yet much less, the name of Queen remove,  
The resolution, I have took to love.  
Such poor respects in love, ought not to be,  
Nor will I suffer, they shall be in me.  
No, no, but I will love, without respect,  
Since he himself for me, can so neglect.  Prince enters. Prince. 
Dear Madam all alone? what have you none,  
To tell your grief to, but yourself alone?  
Or is't a secret, you will not impart,  
Lest you shooed meet, with a deceitful heart?  
Trust me sweet Madam with't, I will not deal  
So much unlike a Prince, as it reveal.  Fran. 
That Sir I hope, you'll think not I do fear,  
Shooed I to make it known, to you forbear.  
It may be such a foolish, trifling thing,  
Not worth the ear, of him that will be King.  Prince. 
Madam, if it be fit to move you so,  
It cannot be unfit, for me to know.  
Pray tell it me, that I may likewise grieve,  
The matter merits it, I do believe.  Fran. 
That which in justice, aught to make me weep;  
Ought not in reason, for to break your sleep.  
For all the world, I wooed not speak that thing,  
Which might unto your Highness, sorrow bring.  Prince. 
Ah dear Madam! your words are killing sweet,  
To make them good, I wish you thought it meet.  
Then shooed I happy be, and be at rest,  
Enjoying that, which cannot be expressed.  Fran. 
It cannot be expressed, 'tis true indeed,  
The subject which does make, my heart to bleed.  Prince. 
You do not, or you will not, me conceive,  
So loath you are, the truth for to believe.  Fran. 
Implease you Sir, I near was backward yet,  
To credit that, which might not be unfit.  Prince. 
Ah heavens'! but you want faith to credit me;  
Or if you done't, you kill me willingly.  Fran. 
How! kill the Prince! here take the Traitress life.  Prince. 
I ask no more than you, to be my wife.  Fran. 
Your wife implease you Sir? and wooed you be,  
Unto yourself, so much your enemy,  
As take a creature, to your Princely bed,  
So little worth? so poorly born and bred?  
No, no, it cannot be; I know you jest.  Prince. 
By all the Gods, I do not, I protest.  Fran. 
Swear what you please, my duty will not let  
My faith be tempted, for to credit it.  
I know too well, my merit and your own,  
It to admit, into my thoughts alone.  Prince. 
Trust me I burn, but with so chaste a flame,  
That Virgins without sin, may have the same.  Fran. 
A Princess wooed, implease your Highness, be  
A fitter object, for your amity.  Prince. 
What's fit for me, good Madam, do not so,  
Better than I myself, pretend to know.  
That's not the business, we have now in hand,  
Nor did ere Love, upon such terms yet stand.  Fran. 
Although you are a Prince, you are less free,  
Then one of us, which are of low degree.  
You cannot of yourself, yourself dispose,  
And not the hearts, of all your subjects lose.  
If love be blind, and shoots without respect,  
The King is not, nor will he you neglect,  
To let you marry, where your fancy takes,  
Except he sees, it for the Kingdom makes.  
So are you subject, to the Rules of State,  
And aught in reason, his consent to wait.  Prince. 
Madam, as I'm a Prince, so will I be  
As well as others, in affection free.  
I value not the love, and will of those,  
Who for so small a thing, will be my foes,  
Do you but give consent, and I'll not wait  
Nor yet subscribe, to any Rules of State.  Fran. 
Wooed you that I to please you, shooed consent▪  
And King, and all your Subjects, discontent?  
D'you make so little reckoning of me Sir,  
As your content, before my good, prefer?  
In this appears, you do not truly love,  
For if you did, you wooed more kinder prove.  Prince. 
Is it to hate you Madam, and contemn,  
To set upon your head, a Diadem?  
No, no, in it appears, I honour you,  
And that my passion, is both just and true.  
Wherefore fair soul, do not so cruel prove,  
As call that disrespect, which men call love.  Fran. 
What glory is't, upon my head to place  
A Crown of gold, and lose it with disgrace?  
A Country Clown, I swear I'd rather wed,  
Then with such fears, approach a Prince's bed.  Prince. 
These are fantastic fears, which do proceed  
From want of Love, which make ill humours breed.  
Did but his flames, once warm and heat your breast,  
You of such doubts, wooed soon be dispossessed.  
Dear Madam, make your Prince no longer sue,  
For that which is by love, and duty due.  Fran. 
I know my duty, bids me to obey,  
But, but, my love, implease you Sir, says nay.  
I cannot give my heart, to more than one,  
Which having done, is now no more my own.  Prince. 
What? have I a Rival then? good now tell  
Me Madam where, that saucy man does dwell?  
That I may make, his passion for to know,  
That to his Prince, he more respect does owe,  
Then to presume, to court where I do love,  
Although the object, may him justly move.  
Yet I was told, that no man could persuade,  
You for to break, the vow that you had made,  
Of living chaste, and single all your life,  
And to no earthly creature, to be wife.  Fran. 
You hearing that, why does your Highness seek,  
The oath which I have took, to make me break?  
It is no small offence, to Heaven above,  
You know, so perjured, and forsworn to prove.  Prince. 
Were you forsworn, in pity of my heat,  
Heaven wooed forgive you sure, it is so great.  Fran. 
'Tis true I said so, but it was to try,  
And exercise his love, and constancy.  Prince. 
And who is it? sweet Madam, be not coy  
To name the man, that must those joys enjoy.  Fran. 
A friend of yours, and one that did so plead  
Your cause, that he has made my soul to bleed.  Prince. 
A friend of mine? if ever he was so,  
He must henceforward, be my mortal foe.  Fran. 
How? his mortal foe Sir? you cannot sure  
Be so ingrate, to him which sought to cure  
Your love-sick soul, with so much care and pains,  
As if that he, thereof shooed reap the gains.  
Ah heavens'! is't possible that one shooed love,  
And yet with zeal, so for another move?  
What said he not, or what did he omit,  
Which might be able, my consent to get?  Prince. 
He is a Traitor, Madam, and I must  
Both, to my passion, and his sin be just.  Fran. 
He is no Traitor Sir, his honest soul,  
Wooed rather die, then do a thing so foul.  Prince. 
Instead of aid, and giving me relief,  
He has usurped my place, and mocked my grief.  Fran. 
He has not it usurped, it is his due,  
And fitter too for him, then 'tis for you.  Exeunt.   


The fourth ACT, the first Scene:  Enter King, and Cardinal. King. 
WE're glad my Lord, our business takes so well,  
With Spain, in case our people shooed rebel.  
For they will be to us, a prop and stay,  
And on occasion, help us every way.  Card. 
So that they may the better do, I hear  
For certain, there's a peace concluding there.  
Which for your Majesty, will greatly make,  
By reason of this match, if it does take.  King. 
We must my Lord, a Navy out of hand  
Make fit, to fetch that Princess to our Land,  
Who shortly as our Letters say, will be,  
Prepared, and ready for to put to Sea.  
This matter does, our Admiral require,  
Of whom to hear no news, we much admire.  Card. 
Perhaps he finds resistance in the way,  
And that by fair means, they will not obey.  King. 
If that by fair means, they will not consent,  
We will make them by foul, it to repent.  Enter Marshal. 
How now Marshal? what have you done the feat?  
What moves you thus? and makes you have this heat?  
Where's our Admiral?  Marsh 
Implease you Sir  
There's in the City, such a coil and stir,  
Upon the knowledge, of your Highness will,  
That every one betakes him, to his Bill,  
And such like weapons, as he can procure,  
To save the one, and keep the other sure.  
For to be short, they say they'll sooner die,  
Then give up either, to your Majesty.  
As for your Admiral, they are agreed,  
By law against him, quickly to proceed.  
And if they find him, worthy not of Death,  
They will by no means, take away his breath.  King. 
Ah heavens'! Ah Earth! will they give us the Law,  
And be obeyed, when they shooed stand in awe?  
They shall be so, but they must tarry till  
We power want, to execute our will.  
Go muster up the Countries, every where,  
And tell them 'tis our pleasure, they appear,  
Before our Royal Palace, two days hence,  
To serve us in a thing of consequence.  
While we in person, go for to demand,  
My Lord, and those two Traitors, at their hand.  
Whom, if they do refuse us, we'll proclaim  
Every several man, to be the same.  
My Lord, we'll leave the Navy to your care,  
And out of hand, a Fleet for to prepare.  Card. 
Who shall implease your Grace, go out with it?  King. 
He that shall seem, unto your wisdom fit.  Exeunt.  

The second Scene:  Enter Symphrona in a Nun's habit alone. Sym. 
A Dieu delights, of you I take my leave,  
As of false joys, which cannot more deceive.  
Farewell fond hopes, to you I bid adieu,  
As foes, which me more mischief cannot do.  
If here below, it is heavens' sacred will,  
That I must stay, and so journer be still:  
Think not to tempt me, with your golden shows,  
Which seem our friends, but prove our mortal foes.  
No, no, I'll not my heart, on trifles set,  
Which us forsake, so soon as we them get.  
I'll something else, more constant surely choose,  
Then that which is so given, to abuse.  
A still Religious life, henceforth shall be,  
My Hope, my Joy, my Love, and Liberty.  
All the pastime, and pleasure I will take,  
Shall be with Hallelujahs, Heaven to shake.  
Before whose Altars, I will daily burn  
Incense, from me, his anger for to turn.  
With watchings, and with fastings, I 'll subdue,  
The idle thoughts, which I am subject too:  
And have an eye, still on those Joys above,  
Of which I'm now enamoured, and in love.  Francina enters. Fran. 
Dear Madam, why thus clothed like a Nun,  
As if you were ashamed, to see the Sun?  
Wherefore this longer veil? these blacks and whites,  
Which are Monastic, and Religious Rites;  
And damage much your Beauty, every way,  
As darkness is injurious, to the day.  
Off, off, with them, and like yourself appear,  
And do not thus Eclipse, our Hemisphere.  Sym. 
Madam, I know my beauty too too well,  
To think such power, shooed in my person dwell.  
I leave that force, and virtue unto you,  
Which every one does know, is but your due.  
As for these whites, and blacks, I wooed not them  
Forsake I vow, to wear a Diadem.  
There's more content, in these poor simple weeds,  
More pleasure far, in saying o'er these beads,  
Believe me Madam, then in all the sport,  
And brave Apparel, which is worn at Court,  
Those are but trifles, if compared with these,  
The thought alone of which, does me displease.  Fran. 
Madam, such language yet was never known,  
To part from any, but the spleen alone:  
Especially from one, so young as you,  
Which you shooed seek, by Physic to subdue.  
For 'tis a naughty evil, and withal,  
Begets a worse, which we green sickness call.  
'Twere pity such a handsome piece as you,  
By such rude means, shooed so yourself undo.  
Shooed by such stricter observations dry,  
That softer skin, so in a Nunnery.  
You may no doubt, please Heaven another way,  
And in a Congregation, likewise pray,  
As well as Cloistered up, within a wall,  
In silks, and satins too, if that be all.  
Dear Madam, think what you do go about,  
And that 'tis ten to one, if you hold out?  Sym. 
There's nothing like, unto a willing mind,  
Which Heaven be praised, strong in me I find.  
As for the spleen, I wooed that you shooed know,  
This zeal does nothing, unto that humour owe.  
No, no, sweet Madam, 'tis so pure a flame,  
That if you knew't, you wooed not blame the same.  Fran. 
I do not blame it Madam, but I know  
These holy thoughts, do from my brother grow.  
Had he not been took, by the Turks at Sea,  
You ne'er had thought, upon a Nunnery.  Sym. 
Heaven who does so wisely order all,  
To whom we subject are, both great and small:  
Decreeded no doubt, from all Eternity,  
That this my good, from his mischance shooed be.  
To whose misfortune, I'm content to owe,  
This resolution, since it must be so.  Fran. 
But Madam, 'tis not for devotion sake,  
If ought respect, makes you this course to take:  
That which is pleasing unto Heaven above,  
Is when one does so, merely out of love.  
But as I've said, perhaps my brother may,  
By some device, escape and get away.  
Which if he shooed, you'll wish when 'tis too late,  
That e'er you entered, so severe a Gate.  Sym. 
Madam 'tis true, I care not who does know,  
I love my Lord, 'bove aught that's here below,  
Except my honour, which I do esteem,  
Equal with that, which one cannot redeem.  
Yet when in competition, Heaven shall come,  
Your Brother by your favour, must make room:  
Since that to Heaven, I do not only owe,  
My present being, but my soul you know:  
To whom I am resolved, myself to vow,  
Shooed he arrive, for to dissuade me now.  Fran. 
Look where he is, as if that he were sent,  Bellarious enters. 
By kinder Heaven, to hinder your intent.  
Welcome dear brother, from the Turkish Coast,  
Whom we did fear, for ever we had lost.  
Ah heavens'! may I believe, and trust my sight,  
Or is't his spirit, intervenes my light?  
Speak brother, speak, and with your voice make good,  
That which your outward show, makes understood.  Bell. 
As men o'ercome with Joy do silent seem,  
Until their former spirits, they redeem.  
So I dear Sister, with such like excess,  
Am stricken dumb, and cannot it express.  
To see Symphrona, whom I longed to see,  
But with more passion, then can uttered be.  
Fair Symphrona, whose absence was to to me,  
More pain by far, than my captivity.  
What! is my Symphrona likewise dumb?  
Or else heard-hearted, is she now become?  
Does my appearance, Madam, trouble you,  
That you so sad, and heavy now do show?  
Alas! I wished my freedom, but to have,  
Only the honour, for to be your slave.  
Which if you do deny me, I shall be,  
Sorry that e'er I sought, my liberty.  Sym. 
The same excess, whereof you spoke of now,  
So every part about me, seized I vow:  
That had the world, the purchase been to speak,  
To purchase it, I had been then to seek:  
So much I do rejoice, at your return,  
But sorry am, that you for me shooed burn.  Bell. 
For whom within my breast, shooed I have fire,  
If that for you, I may not have desire?  Sym. 
For those my Lord, which merit more than I,  
For to be short, I've vowed Virginity.  Bell. 
Indeed your habit says so, but your mind  
I do believe, more gentle and more kind.  Sym. 
My inside, and my outside, are alike.  Bell. 
Ah heavens'! how me with wonder you do strike!  
Recall those words, except it be your will,  
That they forthwith, shooed murder me and kill.  Sym. 
I wooed if that I could, but 'tis too late,  
I must not love, and yet I cannot hate.  aside. Bell. 
Good Gods! was ever Lover like to me?  
Compared with this, sweet is Captivity.  
Sweet is the usage of a Turk, I swear,  
For half so cruel, they did ne'er appear.  Fran. 
You are Symphrona, too too constant now,  Sym. 
Wooed you with Heaven, that I shooed break my vow?  Bell. 
She's rather too inconstant, you may say.  Sym. 
Rather but careful, Heaven for to obey.  Bell. 
Heaven is too just, to bid you do a thing,  
Which to another, will such damage bring;  
And to yourself, if you remember how,  
When I departed, you did constant vow.  Sym. 
Am I inconstant, 'cause I heard you were  
Took by the Turks, to be in bondage there?  
Who then believing, you wooed ne'er escape,  
Made me transform myself, into this shape.  
And too likewise, with none but Heaven to wed,  
So loathsome to me, was another's bed.  
Which vow now I have made, I mean to keep;  
Did I not know, the profit I shall reap?  Bell. 
You were too hasty Madam, for to make,  
A vow, which you did mean, such root shooed take,  
As nought but Death, shooed cansel and make void.  
Then there's no hopes, by you to be enjoyed?  Sym. 
No, none at all, the most that I can do,  
Is to go home my Lord, and pray for you.  Exit. Bell. 
Ah Sister! how is it likely, I shooed live,  
When she that giveth life, denies to give!  Fran. 
'Tis very strange, that one that did so love,  
Shooed to so rash a vow, so constant prove!  
I cannot choose, but blame in this your chance;  
This had not been, had you not gone to France.  Bell. 
But did she love me sister? are you sure?  
Did she for me, ought trouble ere endure?  Fran. 
She did upon my word, so much that I,  
Ne'er thought she'd stand to this, so constantly.  Bell. 
The greater's mies misfortune, if she did,  
Wherefore to grieve, I must not be forbid.  Exeunt.  

The third Scene:  Enter Zorates and Selucious. Zor. 
THE City their affection to us show:  
If that the Country, will but do so too,  
We shall be able, to reform the King,  
And in this Kingdom, every living thing.  
We out of hand, the Admiral must try,  
All sorts of people, for to satisfy:  
Whom if we find, by Law to merit Death,  
We must not spare, to take away his breath.  
'Tis better one shooed perish, then that all  
Shooed run the hazard, utterly to fall.  Selu. 
The King this morning, very early went,  
Into the City, with a full intent,  
For to lay hold on us, and set him free,  
Showing unto them, his authority.  
Who as I hear, what words so ere he used,  
Both he, and we, unto him, were refused.  
What he will do, it does not yet appear,  
But if the City stands, we need not fear.  Zor. 
My life for yours, they will be to us true,  
And do likewise, what in them lies to do.  
They have already, of their own accord,  
In our defence, plucked out and drawn their sword.  
What will they do, then for the common cause,  
For their Religion, Liberty and Laws?  
That which I fear, and which does give me pain,  
Is this same match, concluded now with Spain.  Selu. 
If that be all, it needs not trouble you,  
Since they have work enough, at home to do.  
That marriage for the present, cannot be,  
Much advantageous; to his Majesty:  
By reason, that they are, so poor become,  
They cannot give, a considerable sum:  
So much the war, betwixt the French and them,  
Has ruined, that glorious Diadem.  Zor. 
To try them farther, we must to them make  
A proposition, the Cardinal to take:  
Showing unto them, how we cannot be,  
So long as he does live, in surety:  
Which if with zeal, we find them to embrace,  
We need not fear, to disoblige his Grace:  
For all unto our wishes, wooed succeed,  
Were we but of that Animal, once rid.  Exeunt.  

The fourth Scene:  Enter Prince alone. Prince. 
HOw Nature was deceived, when she made me!  
No doubt but her intent, was I shooed be,  
Free from all manner, of contempt and scorn,  
When she designed, a Prince I shooed be born.  
Unhappy Planet, under whom this earth,  
Received first its form, and then its birth,  
Why didst thou destiny me unto a Crown,  
Yet make me more unhappy, than a Clown!  
For which of all my Subjects, I wooed know,  
Does more than I, unto thy malice owe?  
Or rather, why did Love make me presume,  
To choose a lodging, where there was no room?  
To strike so deep, into my breast a Dart,  
For one, that is not Mistress of her heart?  
Ah heavens'! have I not reason to complain,  
To be a Prince, and yet to sue in vain?  
To court my Subject, and to be refused,  
And by him who I trusted, thus abused?  
Good Gods! whom with our secrets, shall we trust,  
If that our bosom friends, prove so unjust?  
To whom shall we our thoughts, communicate,  
If those whom we oblige, prove so ingrate?  
Had he dealt freely with me, and made known,  
His passion to me, but by sign alone:  
I shooed have had compassion, on his flame,  
'Tis ten to one, and ne'er have moved the same.  
Or had I once believed, or else but known,  
That Love had but possessed, her thoughts alone:  
By all that's just, I do protest and vow,  
I had contemned, and scorned her long e'er now.  
I shooed have unto Reason, then obeyed,  
And by my passion, been not so o'erswayed,  
As so against my honour, to commit,  
An action of a Prince, so much unfit,  
As love a creature, which can find her heart,  
To any, the least favour to impart.  Non. 
Sir 'tis my fortune still, to b'in the way,  Nonantious enters. 
When that the King, has aught to you to say.  
His pleasure is, you shooed attend him straight,  
Implease you, at the privy Garden Gate.  Prince. 
It is thy fortune rather, thou mayst boast,  
To be a Traitor, what face so ere thou showst.  Non. 
A Traitor Sir? It is so rude a sound,  
The name, without the guilt, my soul does wound.  
I hope you think not so, what e'er you say,  
Or if you do, here take away my Day.  
Let him not live, a minuit longer Sir,  
That does your life, not 'fore his own prefer.  
But let the Traitor, an example be,  
By your quick vengeance, to posterity.  Prince. 
No, no, my friend, 'tis fit thou shoo'dst have time,  
For to repent, and likewise know thy crime.  
I wooed not do thy soul, such wrong I swear,  
As send it unto Hell, for any Fair.  Non. 
For any Fair! good Heaven who is't I'd know,  
Can be so fair, to make me thither go?  
Where dwells the creature, that I so shooed love,  
As for her sake, a Traitor I wooed prove?  Prince. 
Thou know'st her lodging, better than I do,  
What ignorance soever, thou may'st show.  
Yes, yes, thou dost, falsehearted as thou art,  
In whom no virtue, ever yet had part.  
Thou know'st Francina, dost not very well?  
'Tis there, 'tis there, thy saucy love does dwell.  
'Tis there, 'tis there, thy passion does pretend,  
Offending so at once, thy Prince and friend.  
Good heavens'! who wooed have thought thou wouldst have proved,  
So much ingrate, as such a thing have moved:  
Considering that to thee, I made it known,  
As to a person, I esteemed alone:  
As one I thought, so honest and so true,  
It was but just, and reason so to do.  
Yet notwithstanding, thou hast dealt with me,  
As if I had been thy sworn enemy:  
And made no conscience, to betray the trust,  
I put in thee, which I conceived so just.  
Say? didst thou love her? or, did she love thee,  
Fore thee I chose, my messenger to be?  
Why didst thou then, to me not make it known,  
That I might have resolved, t'have let't alone?  
Or if thou sawst, my passion was so great,  
That nought but Death, could take away the heat,  
Why didst thou not, in duty to my flame,  
Hazard thy life, for to maintain the same?  
Prefer thy Prince's ease, before thy own?  
Hadst thou been honest, thou wouldst so have done.  
Speak man! thou waxest pale when thou shood'st blush,  
As if thou car'dst not, for thy sin a rush.  
Ah Heavens! what height of wickedness is this,  
Not to be sorry, when one does amiss!  
Confess thy fault, before I send thy earth,  
Unto the place, where 'twas before thy birth.  
Repent, repent, thou knowest thy offence,  
And at the least, say something in pretence.  
What? art thou deaf? or hast thou lost thy speech?  
Or does thy guilt, to thee this silence teach?  
Speak Traitor, speak, for to prevent my arm,  
Before thou answerest me, to do thee harm.  Non. 
Sir were I guilty, as you think I am,  
I shooed be glad, you wooed correct the same.  
Nor wooed I speak, your fury to prevent,  
Had I this present, any such intent.  
It wooed implease you Sir, be somewhat rude,  
Me by my silence, faulty to conclude.  
The news you tell me, is to me so strange,  
That quite and clean, it does my nature change:  
As when some sudden mischief, we do hear,  
We pale, and speechless, presently appear.  
I must confess, I have Francina loved,  
And some such thing, unto her likewise moved:  
But 'twas before your passion, did appear,  
And for my motion, I was ne'er the near:  
For did you know, but with what scorn and pride,  
She answered me Sir, and my suit denied:  
You'd pity me, and say she was too blame,  
To use so hardly, such an honest flame:  
Which was the reason, I was loath to move,  
You may be pleased to call to mind, your Love:  
For fear Sir, that your business for my sake,  
Might not unto your wishes, fully take.  Prince. 
That fear was needless, I must tell thee, since  
It was a message, sent her from a Prince.  
What scorn so e'er, she might have used to thee,  
Was no conclusion, she'd do so to me.  
Go, go, this is a very poor pretence,  
And little serves, to colour thy offence.  Non. 
Just Heaven which knows, the hearts of all full well,  
Will never send my soul, for this to Hell.  
Were I but faulty, only but in this,  
I might presume, I never did amiss.  
As for such fear you say, there was no need,  
How oft are men, forced for their Right to plead?  
And after all their pains, likewise at last  
For want of a good Pleader, too are cast?  
Yet did you know, or wooed you but believe,  
The pains I took, to make her to conceive  
Her interest, and how you loved her,  
You wooed not judge so hardly, of me Sir.  Prince. 
Men judge thou know'st, of things by the event,  
And I from her own mouth, pass my judgement.  Non. 
From her own mouth! what is't implease your Grace?  Prince. 
That thou hast in her heart, the chiefest place.  Non. 
That she loves me! Oh Sir it cannot be,  
Since she wooed never marry, she told me.  
I will not say your Highness, is deceived,  
But I may say, 'tis hard to be believed.  
D'you think it likely, she wooed me prefer,  
My birth, and fortune, 'fore yourself great Sir?  
No, no, 'tis not: whatever she may say,  
She does but with my former passion play.  
Women Sir, too ambitious are you know,  
To let a Crown, and Sceptre so to go.  
Had she a mind, to go to any's bed,  
She wooed no doubt, your Highness quickly wed.  
The name of Queen, is such a pleasing bit,  
That every one, is greedy after it.  Prince. 
Which makes me think, thou hast by Magic art,  
Rather abused, then fairly got her heart.  
For if 'twere otherwise, why shoo'dst thou gain,  
That with such ease, which I cannot with pain?  Non. 
That I to gain her heart shooed witchcraft use,  
And so not only her, but you abuse!  
Oh Sir, you told me, you wooed send this earth  
Unto the place where 'twas before its birth:  
Do, do it quickly, for to rid my pain,  
And me remove from that, which you call gain.  
Let not this body, which is so possessed,  
Here in this world Sir, any longer rest:  
But send it headlong, quickly down to Hell,  
There with its black Companions, for to dwell.  
Yet before I die, here on my bended knee,  
Do I bequeath Francina, willingly.  
All, all the interest, which I have in her,  
Henceforward I do give, unto you Sir.  
And wish she may so to your wishes prove,  
That you may ne'er repent you e'er did love,  
I know she is too poor, a gift for you,  
But I can do no more, than I can do.  
Since that my life to you, is so suspect,  
'Tis fit my Death, shooed witness my respect.  Stobs himself. Prince. 
Hold goodness, hold, I wooed not be the cause,  
That thou shoo'dst so transgress, Dame Nature's Laws,  
As be unto thyself, so much unkind,  
Because my passion, is so monstrous blind.  
He goes, Ah heavens', wooed I had now the power,  
To keep Death hence, but only for an hour.  
To let him see, before he shuts his eyes,  
How this last action, does me sacrifice.  
To thank his kindness, and to let him know,  
How much unto his virtue, I do owe.  
He stirs not yet, good Gods assist my hand,  
To raise him up, and likewise make him stand.  
I was too blame, by Heaven I was unjust,  
To recompense his pains, with such mistrust.  
I feel no breath, there does no life appear,  
What wooed Francina say, were she now here:  
To see her dearest Dear, thus speechless lie,  
Upon the ground, and I here standing by?  
See where she comes, as if she summoned were  
By his last breath, this instant to appear.  Francina enters. Fran. 
I dreamed last night, a very scurvy dream,  
Which strange unto my soul, I vow does seem.  
Which is the cause, of this my coming here,  
Not out of hopes 'tis true, but out of fear.  
At twelve a Clock, the hour I do keep,  
I was no sooner laid, to go to sleep,  
But presently into my thoughts, did come,  
My Lord passed by this way, unto his Tomb.  
Something there was, about the Prince likewise,  
But in a fright, I striving for to rise,  
Was the occasion, I forgot the rest,  
Being at that time, with too much possessed:  Prince. 
Something of me! good Madam be so kind,  
As for my sake, to call it unto mind:  
That I may likewise, know my Destiny too,  
Since that your dreams, do prove so fatal true.  
Alas! behold him there, that lieth dead,  
And ready for his Tomb, as you have said.  Fran. 
Ah heavens'! my Lord here speechless on the ground,  
And on his body, seems to have a wound!  
Tell me ye stars, who has this mischief done,  
That I may also, him deprive of Sun?  
Ah! speak my Lord? and let me not in vain,  
Thus with my sighs, and tears, you entertain.  
Requite not thus, my former scorn sweet Sir,  
Who does your Love, before her life prefer.  
Who sorry is, that e'er she was so blind,  
To have been to Nonantious, so unkind.  
Speak, speak, I say, or else give me the power,  
Ye juster heavens', to live not out this hour.  
Ah Prince! is this the issue of your flame?  
Did you make love to me, to do the same?  
To do a thing, sh' unworthy of your Crown,  
And which will blast for ever, your renown?  Non. 
Madam, the Prince is clear, 'tis only I  
Am guilty of this murder, certainly  Prince. 
Oh kindness 'bove expression! to revive  
A purpose only, me for to forgive.  Fran. 
The Prince is clear? then speak it o'er again,  
For to confirm, he did not do this sin.  
For shooed I for once hearing, it believe,  
I might myself, and hearing too deceive.  Non. 
He's clear.  Fran. 
And I it is that guilty am.  
The Prince not any hand, has in the same.  
No, no, the Prince is free, and too too good,  
To have a hand, in any Subject's blood.  
To me alone, thou dost this murder owe,  
For 'twas myself, which gave thee this same blow.  
It was my cruelty, made thee despair,  
And so to live, made thee not much to care.  
How oft hast thou, unworthy as I am,  
Made known to me, the danger of thy flame,  
By thy discourse, discovered unto me,  
Thy certain ruin of necessity:  
And I more harder, than the marble stone,  
Ne'er took so much as notice, of thy moan!  
Forgive me if thou canst, I prithee now,  
For I will for my sin, Religious vow.  Prince. 
Religious Madam! do not so I pray,  
If you the Dead, make conscience to obey.  
He has bequeathed you, unto me by will,  
And I expect, that you shooed it fulfil.  
Do not to his misfortune, add a worse,  
So by resolving, for to take that course.  
No, no, dear Madam, but resolve to be  
Henceforth more gentle▪ and more kind to me.  
What pleasure can you take within a wall?  
In whites, and blacks, you must be clothed withal?  
So early rise, and go to bed so late,  
And in devotion, all the day to wait?  
To fast so often, and be subject too,  
To those, which are inferior, unto you.  
And for the least offence, you shall commit,  
B' enjoined a penance, ten times more than it.  
A Crown wooed be more fitter for you far,  
So young, and beautiful, as now you are.  
For to command, and not commanded be,  
And every day, feed most deliciously.  
Rise at what hour you please, and go to bed,  
And there be sported, till you're almost dead.  
Nothing but silks, and satins, 'bout you wear,  
And next your skin, fine cloth instead of hair.  
The roundest, whitest Pearl, that can be found,  
Either in Europe, or in Asia ground,  
For to adorn that neck, which is so white,  
Which to behold alone, giveth men delight:  
When you are sad, have fools to make you mirth,  
And to content you, riffle the whole earth.  
These wooed more proper for you, Madam be,  
Then such hard lodging in a Nunnery.  Fran. 
Sir for your love, and kindness, I do owe,  
Unto your Princely bounty, much I know:  
Since that my merit, is so poor and small,  
I at your hands, can challenge nought at all.  
Yet am I not, nor House nor Land to be,  
Bequeathed by Will, unto your Majesty.  
My Love is free, now that my Lord is dead,  
And I may choose, where I will ever wed.  
As for the life, which seems so hard to you,  
There's nought to me, more easy for to do.  
To rise up early, and go late to bed,  
And ne'er with dainties all my life be fed:  
Is that implease you Sir, which I do love,  
Because 'tis pleasing, unto Heaven above.  
For to be brief, those rigours I prefer,  
Before the pleasures, you have told me Sir.  
And am resolved, forthwith to take that course,  
As men do wives, for better or for worse.  Prince. 
Since that a Crown, sweet Madam, nor my love  
Has not the power, your purpose to remove:  
Heaven be your guide, good Madam pray for me,  
And pardon this my importunity.  Exeunt.   


The fifth ACT, the first Scene:  Enter King, and followers. King. 
LEave us. Just Heaven to you I owe my Crown,  Exeunt. 
And when you please, you may too pluck it down.  
'Twas you that put this Sceptre in my hand,  
And to you for't alone, I debtor stand.  
Instead of making me a mighty King,  
You might have made me, an inferior thing.  
'Twas all at your dispose, and sacred will,  
And to my nothing, may reduce me still.  
Do so kind Heaven, much rather than permit,  
That to my Subjects, I shooed e'er submit.  
That e'er I shooed be subject, to their Law,  
And be compelled, of them to stand in awe.  
Oh let not after ages, for to come,  
With any such report, molest my Tomb.  
Let not my Epitaph be underwit,  
Here lies a King, did such a thing commit.  
Here lies a King, which only had the name,  
But not the power, to maintain the same.  
Dishonour not yourself, so much in me,  
As suffer such a thing, in History.  
But as you have ordained me here below,  
Your Deputy, to men your will to show:  
So give me power, likewise to subdue,  
Such as refuse, your pleasure for to do:  
And help my arm, to make them for to feel,  
What 'tis with your Anointed, so to deal.  Prince enters. Prince. 
I heard not long since from a servants hand,  
How th● your Majesty, did me demand.  King. 
'Tis true, 'twas that you might yourself prepare,  
To meet the Spanish Princess, at Gomare.  
The dice she will strike in at, without fail,  
Within there two days, if she have a Gale.  Prince. 
To do your pleasure Sir, I'll make me fit,  
And to that purpose, all things ready get.  
I had no 〈…〉, heretofore 'tis true,  
But now see my fault, and error too:  
And do thereof, repent with all my soul,  
My disobedience, seems to me so foul.  King. 
We Father's better than our Children know,  
what's good for them, how rough so ere we show.  
Pray be not sparing, of our purse at all,  
That no discredit, to us may befall.  
But use such Pomp, and State, as shall be due,  
Both to her Person, and likewise to you.  Prince. 
There shall be nothing wanting, on my part,  
Implease you Sir, to testify my heart.  
And to report, your Greatness every where,  
If Art, or Cost, can make it to appear.  Exit. King. 
Unhappy Prince, for to be heir unto  
My Crown, and Sceptre, and to have to do  
With such rebellious people, as he must,  
When I shall be returned, to my Dust.  
Could I but once, them to obedience bring,  
How I shooed think myself, a happy King!  Lycus enters. Lycus. 
Implease you Sir, I'm sorry for to bring,  
Such heavy tidings, to so great a King.  
I 'fore I came, did with myself dispute,  
Whether or no, I shooed presume to do't.  
But when I called to mind, it wooed be known,  
I thought I could, but make my duty shown.  King. 
What? more misfortune yet? when shall I be,  
Ye Gods, I feign wooed know, from trouble free?  
Am I the mark, of all your rage and scorn?  
Or with such jewels, do ye Crowns adorn?  
Well, out with it, for I am sure at worst,  
It cannot be well worser, than the first.  Lycus. 
The Cardinal just now, implease your Grace,  
Was apprehended, in his own Palace.  
And carried by the people, thence away,  
Unto the Castle, for to die men say.  
In going thither, he was shrewdly hurt,  
So did the vulgar sort, throw stones and dirt.  King. 
The Cardinal used thus! good Heaven is't true?  
Then give me over, to their malice too.  
Oh give me not a being, worse than Death,  
For so 'twill be, when he shall lose his breath.  
Here take your Crown, and Crown yourself with it,  
For on my head, it can no longer sit.  
Next unto you, 'twas he that kept it on,  
And 'twill fall off no doubt, when he is gone,  
Where is the man, so able and so wise,  
On all occasions, me for to advise?  
Who understands, and too withal is true,  
To that which he does undertake to do:  
To whom may I with safety, now impart,  
The dearest thought, that lodges in my heart?  
Ah heavens'! is't possible you shooed forget,  
Your Greatness so, as such a thing permit?  
Let him, who offers incense at your Altars be  
Used by the people, so irreverently!  
Rouse up yourself, and do not fall asleep,  
When you shooed wake, your servants for to keep:  
And work with me, these Rebels to subdue,  
Which do not care a rush, for me nor you.  Marshal enters. Marsh. 
'Bove twenty thousand men well chosen Sir,  
Which do your ease, before their lives prefer,  
Are marching towards your Palace with all speed,  
To help your Majesty, if there be need.  King. 
What man! twenty thousand men! this is news  
Which likes us well, if you done't us abuse:  
We are not yet, so ill beloved we see,  
Nor yet so poor, as we were thought to be,  
If this be certain, which Heaven grant it may,  
And that before we strike, they may obey.  Sotus enters. Sotus. 
Implease you Sir, the Prince sent me in post,  
To tell you, that on this Polonian Coast,  
Is safe arrived with a mighty Train,  
The Princess Flora, so beloved in Spain.  
Fifty sail of Ships, of a thousand Tuns,  
Each carr'ing threescore Tire, of brazen Guns,  
Are full of soldiers, for to help your Grace,  
In case, your subjects, shooed not give you place.  King. 
Fifty sail of Ships! and so many men!  
Is news which does exceed, the first again.  
Kind Heaven forgive me, if I did contemn,  
Before I was aware, my Diadem.  
It was my passion, made me to despair,  
But now I see, you have of me a care.  
Here, kiss our hand, come Marshal let us go,  
And see what we can do, to win our foe.  
If that by fair means, they will yield those Lords,  
We will not notwithstanding, draw our swords.  Exeunt.  

The second Scene:  Enter Zorates and Selucious. Zor. 
THE King I hear is, twenty thousand strong,  
Besides the guard, which to him does belong:  
And does intend, within an hour or two,  
To storm the City, if report says true.  
We must forthwith, give order to unarm,  
All those, which we suspect may do us harm.  
Lest that a factious party, shooed arise,  
Within the City, and so it surprise.  
Whilst that the Train-bands, issued forth shall be,  
To hinder, and keep out, the enemy.  Selu. 
Your care is good, and in it does appear,  
The love unto your Country, you do bear.  
But I do wonder, how the King shooed be,  
So strong as you do say, so suddenly.  
Since that the Country, seemed with as much zeal,  
To be transported, for the Common-weal,  
As e'er the City did, awhile ago,  
Who now are fallen off, if it be so.  Zor. 
Fallen off they are not, perhaps some few,  
For want of means, despairing what to do,  
Do hope hereafter, for to bear full sail,  
If that the King, against us, shooed prevail.  
And so grow rich, who was before so poor,  
By the assistance, of another's store.  
Were it not so, they wooed not take that course,  
They knowing at the worst, they can't be worse.  Selu. 
The scurvy news, that I did lately hear,  
Does with good reason, me possess with fear.  
I hear the King of France, has signed a Peace,  
And that the wars, 'twixt him and Spain do cease:  
Which is a thing, we ought to lay to heart,  
Since neither, I am sure, will take our part.  
As for the King of Spain, he will be sure,  
To act his part, our ruin to procure,  
By reason of the match, not made long since,  
Between the Princess Flora, and our Prince.  
We shall do well, unto the King to send,  
Propositions, if he his ear will lend:  
To make a way, unto a happy peace,  
And that our Arms, without a blow may cease:  
For shooed we stay, until he has more power,  
We may perchance, repent we lost this hour.  
We know not what a King, incensed may do,  
Especially when he, has power too.  
Wherein, we'll humbly show unto his Grace,  
That for the Kingdoms good, he must displace,  
The Lord High Admiral, and too withal,  
Prohibit from the Court, the Cardinal.  
How that we are so tender, of his ease,  
And so unwilling, him for to displease,  
That though by his own Laws, they ought to die,  
They shall not suffer, that extremity.  
But only out of hatred, to their crime,  
Be banished out the Kingdom, for a time.  
To which, if he shooed please for to consent,  
We ought therewith, ourselves for to content.  
What good wilt do us for to see them die?  
'Twill but proclaim to men, our cruelty:  
And set the King against us, more and more,  
In doing so, then e'er he was before.  
The chance of war's uncertain, he may get,  
The better on't, for aught that we know yet:  
Which if he shooed, what wooed become of us,  
Him having treated, with all rigour thus?  Zor. 
This fear to tell you plainly, is not just,  
Nor is it safe, you any more to trust.  
Your language is phlegmatic, like your Age,  
And speaks you Coward, and not very sage.  
Shooed France, and Spain, and all the world conspire,  
To ruin us, and frustrate our desire,  
We will go on, and make them for to know,  
They never yet encountered, such a foe.  
After such sins, d' you think we'll be content,  
To let them live, although in banishment.  
No, no, the only way to be secure,  
Is now we have them, for to make them sure.  
A coal but left unquenched, may fire a Town,  
And we'll dispatch them, though the King does frown.  
For fear hereafter, they shooed come again,  
And so reform the Kingdom, but in vain.  
What need we fear his anger? 'tis the Law,  
We ought to apprehend, and stand in awe.  
Which Law, so long as we do but obey,  
We need not care, what men of us do say.  
Nor fear aught foreign, or domestic force,  
For heaven's too just, to prosper such a course.  Crocus enters. Cro. 
'Tis over all the Town, that with a Power,  
The Spanish Princess's landed at this hour:  
And's marching withal speed, unto the King,  
Unto his Highness, succours for to bring.  
The City's at their wit's end, what to do,  
And do desire, for to advise with you.  Selu. 
What think you now? my fear was it now just?  
Another time, will you my counsel trust?  Zor. 
Ah heavens'! who wooed have thought we e'er shooed be,  
Reduced, to any such perplexity?  
Who wooed have thought, thou wouldst have left us so,  
To be thus put to't, by a foreign foe?  
How many say they's landed on our shore?  Cro. 
Forty thousand armed men; some say more.  Zor. 
Forty thousand! a little number too.  
And we must think too, what we have to do.  Exeunt.  

The third Scene:  Enter Bellarious. Bell. 
SYmphrona turn Religious! can it be?  
Ah heavens'! why gave ye me my liberty?  
Why to my prayers, did ye bend your ear,  
When that ye knew, Symphrona wooed not hear?  
When that ye knew, Symphrona's cruel mind,  
Why to my wishes, did ye prove so kind?  
Woo'd I among the Turks, had stayed till now,  
And never to come thence, had made a vow:  
I shooed have been more quiet in my mind,  
Then now I am, to see her thus unkind.  
Ah Love! is this the Joy you promised me?  
Reward you thus, a Lover's constancy?  
Is this the recompense, of all my pain?  
Of all my sighs, and tears, is this the gain?  
Then henceforth Lovers, warned be by me,  
With women never more, in love to be.  
But why blame I Symphrona? no, thy choice  
As't makes me sad, so does it me rejoice.  
Thou'st chosen well Symphrona, and I am  
Contented to be rivaled, by thy flame.  
And Love, as she's resolved, so am I too,  
Ne'er with thy weapons, more to have to do.  
But quietly, into some silent wood,  
Where noise of birds, is only understood,  
Will I retire myself, to live and die,  
And meditate upon Eternity;  
Calling to mind, the shortness of this life,  
How full it is of Evils, and of strife.  
How every thing, which we court here below,  
With so much passion, soon away does go.  
Come, come, my soul, and let us search a Cell,  
Where thee, and I, most lovingly will dwell.  Exit.  

The fourth Scene:  Enter Francina alone. Fran. 
HOw quiet are my thoughts, me thinks since I  
Resolved to go, into a Nunnery!  
Since I resolved, to bid this world adieu,  
And with its follies, have no more to do.  
The time that I have spent, to make me brave,  
And ne'er so much as thought, upon a Grave.  
Ne'er called to mind, this body which I fed  
With so much care, must one day Earth rued.  
The hours I at Cards, have played away,  
And never thought, upon my latter day!  
Ne'er thought upon, the Count which I must give,  
For all my actions, when I cease to live!  
How I have studied, mortals for to move,  
And been with every thing, but Heaven in love!  
Kind Heaven forgive me, and accept the vow  
Which I intent to make, unto you now.  
Madam, the business I do come about,  Symphrona enters. 
Will make you wonder, and admire no doubt.  
It is a thing, so hard for to believe,  
That you'll have pain, it merely to conceive.  Sym. 
Pray save me so much pain, and let me hear  
That which you think, will so much stun my ear.  
Yet if that one may judge, by outward show,  
Your habit speaks you, to this world a foe.  Fran. 
You have it Madam, I am so indeed,  
And so will make it, to appear with speed.  
I hate this world, and all that is in it,  
And am resolved, it utterly to quit.  
The sweet discourse, you made of Heaven above,  
Did take me so, that I'm thereof in love.  
And do intend, to pass my days with you,  
If you so Madam, please to let me do.  Sym. 
With all my soul sweet Madam, I rejoice  
That you at last, have made so good a choice.  
And cannot choose, but wonder as you say,  
That you shooed fancy, so divine a way.  
You may be sure, the husband you do take,  
Will use you well, and never you forsake,  
As other husbands, too too often do,  
To such as merit otherwise you know.  
Besides for Dowry, he will give you Heaven,  
Which is the greatest gift, that can be g'ven.  
Not for a moment, but for e'er and e'er,  
Which is a term, 'mongst men you'll meet with ne'er.  
Come sister, let us go, and make an end,  
Of that which you do tell me, you intent.  
For that's the name I'll henceforth call you by,  
Since you resolve, to vow Virginity.  Fran. 
'Tis too much honour Madam, to be so,  
Pray Heaven in virtue, I may like you grow.   

The fifth Scene:  Enter King, and followers. King. 
REtire. Ah heavens' you know how 'gainst my will,  Exeunt. 
I go about, my Subject's blood to spill.  
With what remorse, this sword of mine I draw,  
To make my people, to obey my Law.  
Wooed they wooed see their folly, and let go  
Those Lords which I demand, without a blow.  
Or wooed you'd be so kind, as tell me how,  
My honour I might save, and fight not now.  
For what can I, by such a battle get,  
Although I conquer, but a sad regret!  Marshal enters. Marsh. 
A hundred thousand men, implease your Grace,  
Are marching out the Town a mighty pace;  
With an intent the Spanish force to meet,  
And home again, them back again to beat.  
As many too behind, are said to be,  
Provided well, to charge your Majesty,  
In case you shooed Sir, with your Royal force,  
Go forward, for to interrupt their course.  
My opinion, the best way you can take,  
Is with them, an agreement for to make:  
And condescend, to that they stand upon,  
If to no easier terms, they can't be won:  
for all the common people, with one heart,  
Resolve with goods, and lives, to take their part.  
I've divers reasons, which 〈◊〉 persuade,  
‛ Tadvise your Majesty, as I have said.  
But that which chiefly moves me, I protest,  
Is that the Prince, will fight amongst the rest?  
Now as the chance of war's, not sure at all,  
So may it be his fortune, for to fall.  
Which if he shooed, I'm sure that you wooed give,  
Those Lords, and Kingdom too, to make him live.  
Besides the Princess, whom you tender so,  
If that she shooed be taken, by the foe,  
You are not certain, how they'll use her Sir,  
Which may hereafter, cause an endless stir  
Between your Highness, and the King of Spain,  
Treating so ill, his daughter and her Train.  
Shooed you o'ercome, which is the most you can  
Expect, or look for, at the hands of man:  
D' you think a stranger, having taken foot,  
Will home return, without some other boot?  
No, no, believe me, he will make you fight,  
Before he'll go, for that which is your Right.  
The French likewise Sir, having nought to do,  
Will lose no time, you may be sure on't too:  
But will make hay, whilst that the Sun shall shine,  
Pretending to your party, to incline:  
But when they're in, the way to get them out,  
Will be no easy matter too, no doubt.  
In story we may read, some such event,  
When King, and Subject, have had discontent:  
Whereas if you your peoples, love could gain  
You need not care a fig, for France nor Spain.  
There's ne'er a stroke struck yet, one word may now,  
Do that which one day, you may not know how.  King. 
What says the Traitor? take him hence to dwell,  
With those infernal firebrands of Hell.  
What mak'st thou me? a Coward? or a King?  
Thou foul-mouth'd-fellow, to utter such a thing.  
Dost think thou Traitor, that we bear this sword,  
To cut off those, that do obey our word?  
No, no, thou worst of men, we'll make thee know,  
Those Rebels too, what duty they do owe:  
And not so easily yield, unto their lust,  
Those men that to our Crown, have proved so just.  
That Prince's not fit, a Sceptre for to hold,  
That will be by his Subjects, so controlled:  
And since that Heaven, has put it in our hand,  
we'll sway it to the terror, of the Land.  
we'll sway it to the terror, of all those,  
That do appear, to be our Kingdom's foes:  
Whereof with reason, we suspect you one,  
wherefore secure him, till our pleasure's known.  Carried to prison. 
The greatest treason, commonly comes in  
Masked with advice, upon our souls to win  
The easier acceptation, and so trappans  
Our very reason, into our enemy's hands.  Sotus enters. Sotus. 
The Prince implease you Sir, sent me in haste,  
To tell you that more time, he will not waste,  
But without fail, will through the foe make way,  
To kiss your Royal hands, this very day.  
The Cavilry, together with the foot,  
Are in a fighting posture, ready put.  King. 
Heaven prosper his advance, we're ready too,  
And will endeavour likewise, to cut throw,  
And clear his passage, to our Royal Place;  
wherefore my Lords, let's more than go apace.  Exeunt.  

The sixth Scene:  Enter Zorates and Selucious. Selu. 
BUT what if the King o'ercomes, and gets the day,  
What will become of us? we cannot run away.  
The Seaports every where are so secured,  
We cannot hope t'escape, be you assured.  
Nor in the City, can we shelter have,  
For every man himself will strive to save;  
And rather than their lives, and fortunes lose,  
Be ready for us, for to make a noose.  Zor. 
Still fears, and doubts, 'tis ominous I swear,  
And does presage our ruin I do fear.  
Success in aught attempt, is only when,  
We march on boldly, and ne'er look back again.  
The Gods are just, and will reward our care,  
Much better than you think for, never fear.  
Besides, do not the Prophets of our Age,  
Tell us, we shall prevail against their rage,  
They know the mind of Heaven, to which we must,  
And aught in reason too, for to give trust.  Selu. 
Were not our cause, much better than their skill,  
For all their Art, I shooed be fearful still.  
Their knowledge is not certain, so to be,  
Nor trusted too, as infallibility.  
They oftener miss, than hit the mark I know,  
How e'er the vulgar sort, they cousin so.  Crocus enters. Cro. 
The King is victor, and the City flies  
To him for mercy, with exceeding cries.  
There's nought discoursed, but Presents for the King,  
And how they may, contentment to him bring.  
How that they may, procure his wonted grace,  
And like loyal Subjects, look him in the face.  Zor. 
Then we are lost, and by the people too,  
We shall be left, which is our double wo.  
They that to a multitude, will trust,  
Are worse than mad, although the cause be just.  
Just, or unjust, to them it is all one,  
Success having power, to make it so alone.  Selu. 
'Tis true it has, amongst the vulgar sort,  
But with the best, it has but mean report.  
Men that have reason, for to judge aright,  
In aught success, take not so much delight,  
So to abuse their judgement, as conclude,  
The cause is just, cause conquest is refused.  
Well, be't how 'twill, how ever I have been  
Drawn in by you my Lord, thus overseen,  
I ever thought, the course that we did take,  
Wooed one day make your head, and mine to ache,  Cro. 
What? no reward for this so happy news?  aside. 
I've known the time, my pains not so to lose.  Zor. 
I ever thought, your fear wooed us undo,  
Wherefore my Lord, farewell, farewell, adieu.  Offers to go. Enter the Maior of the City, with his Common-Council, and Officers. Maior. 
Stay Traitors, stay, and leave your heads behind,  
To pacify, an'appease, his Grace's mind.  
We had not thus resisted, had not you,  
With your persuasions, urged us thereunto.  
You've drawn us in, and we will draw you out,  
And leave you to his mercy, without doubt.  Exeunt. Enter King, with his Lifeguard. King. 
Break down the City Gates, and likewise then  
Bring us the heads, of those rebellious men.  
My Lords that are restrained, at freedom set,  
With fire, and sword, make way to all that let.  Sotus enters. Sotus. 
Implease you Sir, now at your Palace Gate,  
The City with those Traitors, now do wait,  
With halters 'bout their necks, to testify,  
Their true compunction, to your Majesty.  King. 
This forced repentance, never can be good,  
'Tis as unwholesom, as water in the blood.  
Where is the man, to save himself will not  
Counterfeit a grief, so to be forgot?  
That is a bait, Rebellion lays to catch  
An easy faith, a greater harm to watch.  
We will not so be cozened, they must die,  
Not our will so much, as our necessity.  
My Lord you're welcome, to us once again,  Cardinal and Admiral enters. 
Whom never more, we ever thought t'have seen.  
Such was the fury, of this people's rage,  
Which nothing but a Crown, could them assuage.  
Or your dear lives, which are to us so dear,  
Rather than lose, our Crown we'd never wear.  Card. 
Sir such expressions, we do not deserve,  
But from our duty, we will never swerve.  
Restraint, nay life itself, is too too low,  
A pledge of that allegiance, we do owe.  
Our being here, wooed but a burden be  
To us, were't not to serve your Majesty.  Enter Prince, and Princess Flora, with the Spanish Train, and the rest of the Officers of the Army. King. 
There comes th' Infanta whom we longed to see,  
And did expect, with such impatiency.  
Welcome fair Flora, welcome to our Land,  
We, and all our Subjects, are at your Command.  
No wonder at our conquest, since your eyes,  
Have power alone, to kill and sacrifice.  Princess. 
Wrong not the valour; of these Heroes so,  
As that this Conquest, aught to me does owe  
Nor yet the justness, of your cause Great Sir,  
Which now has ended, all this coil and stir.  
Though cause thereof, I shooed be glad to be,  
Withal my soul, to serve your Majesty:  
All my ambition is, implease your Grace,  
In your favour, to have a servants place.  
And to your Laws, so like a Subject live,  
That to your people, I may pattern give.  King. 
You are not only fair, but humble too,  
But such humility, becomes not you.  
It does become you better, every way  
Sweet Madam, to command, then to obey.  
Which like a Princess, freer than in Spain,  
You in our Kingdom, shall command and reign.  
But what can we, unto these Grandees say,  
For all the pains, that they have took this day!  
And to these Beauties, which have left Spain sad,  
And full of tears, and sighs, to make us glad:  
But bid them welcome, to our roil Court,  
And study how, to make their time seem short!  
G. C.  
FINIS.     


UPON Hell's High-Commission Court, set to Judge the King. jan. 1648.  
JUst as I entered that Majestic Hall,  
Where Gog and Magog, must be Judge and all,  
Upon the Person, of a King so good,  
His only fault was, he was not understood.  
Where to my view, the first thing did present  
(With such excess of sad astonishment)  
Just at the upper end, a scarlet Throne,  
Died with the blood, of many a loyal one.  
Oh horrid! I cannot go no farther,  
Their intent is, his Majesty to murther.   

UPON The horrid, and unheard of Murder, of CHARLES the First, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, the 30th of janu. 1648.  
WHy how now George? where is thy Muse become?  
Or is't thy sorrow, mak'st thee thus so dumb?  
Shall Heaven, and Earth, the Death of Charles deplore,  
And thou as unconcerned, not say no more?  
Or is the matter, of so high a strain,  
Thou canst not reach it, with thy weaker brain?  
Then sigh it out, and with a lusty tear,  
Threaten a Flood, to this unlucky year:  
Insatiate men! insatiate did I say?  
Bloodthirsty men I meant, to take away  
The best of men, the best of Kings e'er reigned,  
Who lived a life unspotted, and unstained.  
Whose virtue was his fall: for had he been,  
In love with any thing but like a sin,  
He had escaped, their Tyrannique Laws,  
'Cause he'was bad, and for no other cause.  
But he was good, nay Goodness itself he was,  
And why they murdered him, that was the cause.   

TO CHARLES the Second, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, upon his thrice happy return into England, after twelve years' Banishment.  
AS in a tedious Winter, every Plant,  
Seems dead, and out of life, and all for want  
Of the Sun's presence; so Great Charles did we,  
Like dead men seem, and all for want of thee.  
But when the Winter's over, and the Sun,  
Returns again, to this our Horizon,  
How every thing revives, which we call Spring,  
Even such is the return, of Charles our King!  
But Heaven is kinder to these Plants below,  
'Cause innocence, is all that they do know:  
Their Winter therefore, is but short to ours,  
We having had days, unto their hours:  
Which is no less a wonder that we live,  
Wanting so long that influence, that shooed give  
Us life, and vigour, lying in the Root,  
Which was grubbed up, 'cause we no more shooed shoot.  
But as it happens, oftentimes we see,  
In taking up of Roots, that there will be,  
An off-set, two, or three, left in the ground,  
Which by some skilful, honest hand, if found,  
And planted carefully, from thence may spring,  
Stock sufficient, as may from Charles our King.  
Which Heaven we supplicate, that he may reign,  
He, and his Offspring, till Shilo comes again.   

UPON King CHARLES the Second, His Birthday, and his happy return in May, 1660.  
THrice happy day, and happy Month to be,  
Thus twice, so great a friend to Monarchy.  
The very Month, that gave Great Charles his breath,  
Gave breath to us, redeeming us from Death.  
From Death said I? from dying every day,  
And yet to die, could not find out the way.  
Grim Death compared, to what we suffered then,  
So great a kindness was, Those Tyrant-men  
Wooed not allow us, but by little, and little,  
T'increase our pain, and so consume our mettle.  
This was th' Egyptian bondage, we lay under,  
Which made the Lord come in, with such a wonder:  
That, without one drop of blood, or one tear,  
Has reinthroned, our lawful Prince this year.  
So great a mercy, that we may deserve,  
From Heaven, nor him, in duty may we swerve.   

TO MY Lord General MONCK, Upon his opportune coming into England.  
THou great Restorer of our ancient Laws,  
To whom we cannot give, too great applause:  
Ride on victorious, in thy great design,  
Gods real foes, and ours, to undermine.  
Where had we been by this time, hadst not thou,  
Just in the nick of time come in? I vow  
We had been lost, and utterly undone,  
And which is worse, Religion had been gone.  
But Heaven be praised, for this happy change,  
Though to fanatique men, it seemeth strange.  
Well; do the rest, that we expect from thee,  
And second of this Kingdom, thou shalt be:  
Which will more honour be, unto thy name,  
So for to live, then die with dirty fame.   

UPON The Death of the most Illustrious, and unparallelled Prince, HENRY Duke of Gloucester.  
THou that hast been my Companion all my life,  
Leave me not now, I prithee in my grief.  
Leave me not now, in this great time of need,  
To help t'express the Cause that makes us bleed.  
No wonder that the Court, is now so sad,  
And that the Country everywhere is clad  
With Sighs and Tears, the cause thereof being known,  
Is able to dissolve the hardest stone.  
Hard Fate! you might have well forborn this spite,  
And not have robbed us of so great a Light.  
A lesser might as well have served your turn,  
But that you had a mind, to make us mourn;  
But that you had a mind, to make us grieve,  
And all our expectations, to deceive.  
For one, so young, so wise, was never known,  
So grave in carriage sure, but he alone.  
So sound in judgement, and so great a reach  
In State-affairs, the wisest he might teach.  
So humble too withal, so well did place  
What e'er he said, and spoke with such a grace,  
He took his Hearers, with a double band,  
Of Love, and Reason, and so amazed, wooed stand.  
This is our grief, our sorrow, and sad loss,  
Pray Heaven his Death, prove not to us a cross.   

Upon the just Judgement, of His Majesty's unjust JUDGES.  
BUT now they're come to Judgement, Heaven is just,  
And though't be long, before he questions Dust,  
They shall not go unpunished, for that thing,  
That horrid thing, of murdering their King.  
'Twas bad enough, against their King to rise,  
But ten times worse, their King to sacrifice;  
But worst of all, under a show of Zeal,  
To rob the Church, and spoil the Common-weal:  
And so make God, the Author of their ill,  
Pretending 'twas his pleasure, and his will.  
Thus, how from sin, to sin, the Devil draws  
Ambitious spirits, to infringe God's Laws;  
Still prompting them, from what is bad, to worse,  
Until they're fitted, for his heavy Curse.  
Mercy is an Attribute, it is true,  
Which properly to Heaven, belongs unto:  
And he that shows it, shows himself like God,  
Yet God is said, to have an Iron Rod.  
When he vouchsafes to pardon, 'tis to those  
Will never more offend him, which he knows:  
And yet some sins, he will not pardon neither,  
That 'gainst the Holy-Ghost, and Abel's brother;  
Nor those that shall so easily pardon those,  
That still continue, his obdurate foes.  
Blood requires blood, but oh! holy murder,  
Is that which Heaven itself, will never smurther.  
Nor can we hope a blessing from above,  
So long as one alive, among us move.   

UPON Her Majesties, the Queen MOTHER Return into England, in October, 1660.  
GReat Queen of virtue, and of all that's good,  
Who never yet was rightly understood:  
Can you the wrongs you have received, forget?  
You must be more than woman, to do it:  
Nay if such sins by you, can be fo given,  
'Tis more Great soul, than we can hope from Heaven.  
And yet we've more than hopes, you can and will,  
Or else in France, you wooed have stayed still:  
And not have ventured, o'er this Ocean more,  
But that you had a mind, to clear our score:  
And wipe away, all sorrow from our eyes,  
As fogs do vanish, when the Sun does rise.  
Great Star! which from th' East and by South dost come,  
How much are we engaged to thy womb!  
Thy fruitful womb, that with no little pain,  
Hast stocked our Island, with no little gain.  
Three Princes, which the world so much admire,  
And we at last, with Reason do desire.  
Two Beauties too; they must not be forgot,  
Whom Christendom admires, the like has not.  
Welcome Great Queen, welcome to our shore,  
I fear to make amends, we shall adore  
Your sacred Presence, since that ever since,  
We have been cursed, that you were forced hence.   
FINIS,