THE Ambitious Statesman, OR THE Loyal Favourite.  
As it was Acted at the THEATRE ROYAL, BY His MAJESTY'S Servants.  
Written by Mr. CROWN.  
LONDON, Printed for William Abington, at the Black-spread-Eagle at the West end of St. Paul's, 1679.   

TO HER GRACE, THE Duchess of Albemarle.  
POETRY seems on Earth, Madam, in the condition of the Philosopher's Music in the Heavens, placed in a vast, Solitude where there is nothing to hear it but some few Angels that move those Heavens.  
The Earth wants no Inhabitants; but whilst those Inhabitants want sense 'tis as solitary as the Heavens; and a Poet sings like a Bird in the Desert. Yet there are some Angels and Excellent Spirits below, and in the first Rank of 'em is your Grace.  
What Angels are, we know not; but when we would make 'em visible to our thoughts, we dress 'em up in such Qualities as Nature and Fortune have bestowed on your Grace; excellent Wisdom, great Power, boundless Generosity, and profound Humility; and they, to requite our good thoughts of 'em, when they make themselves visible to our Eyes▪ assume such Beauty as yours. Then since we bestow on them all the Excellencies of your Mind, and they borrow all the Beauties of your Body, we may very well lend your Grace their Name.  
And in this, Madam, I do not flatter you, but myself; I do not advance you above what you are, but I raise myself among those who were honoured to be the Entertainers of Angels, but with this difference: They knew not their Guests, and so were to be pardoned their Unleavened Bread, and their fatted Calves; else a foolish Beast had been an absurd Treat for a Creature, who was all Mind, and that Mind all Wisdom.  
But all the World knows your Grace's delicate Spirit, and therefore my Hospitality becomes my Crime. I set before your Grace unpleasant Fruit, that blossomed in a Stormy time, and so had much ado to grow, and never could be Ripe.  
The Sun seldom shines on a Poet's Orchard; We talk much of Shades, and we always live in 'em. If we soar, 'tis but to sing like Larks; and though our Notes are heard, our selves are invisible, and our Nests are always on the Ground. Our Wit, like the Pine Tree, affects desolate Places, barren Rocks, and steep Mountains, and to shoot high in the Air, and meet those Winds which shake its Fruit to the Earth, where Toads creep over it, and Beasts devour it. That a Poet at no time, but especially at this miserable time, is fit to Entertain any but himself.  
We cannot think our soft Songs should be heard, when Church-music grumbles with loud and unpleasant Discords, and the whole State seems out of Tune.  
But, Madam, I have for my Excuse, I design not so much an Entertainment, as a Sacrifice. And I am very safe, since I agree with the whole Kingdom in Faith and Worship. I think there are no Dissenters that will not fully join with me in paying all manner of Honours to the Duchess of Albemarle; A Princess whose Excellencies of Mind are as great and eminent as her Quality.  
Many Tests are made to try Men's Faith; I think the Honour Men have for your Grace is the best Test to prove their Understandings. This is an ill time to erect Images for Worship, and the Porch of a trifling Play an ill place for so glorious a Thing as the Image of your Grace.  
'Tis true, I have very often seen Great Persons lie in such Porches, begging the Charity of well disposed Passengers, to give their Names a poor Subsistence. 'Tis a sad sight to see Persons of Honour in so wretched a condition, that they have no dwelling for their Names, but are forced to lodge 'em in the hovel of Miserable Scribblers, and on the Straw of a little Flattery. I shall not presume to place the worst Statue of your Grace among such poor Company. I only beg leave to be my own Porter, and stand at the Gate of my Work in your Grace's Livery, that if any enter, they may not dare to sully the Apartments that belong to your Grace, and where you may sometimes be pleased to walk.  
And that your Grace may be encouraged sometimes to walk in 'em, they are adorned with an Image of a Virtue, to which your Grace is nearly allied both by Blood and Marriage.  
Loyalty, a Virtue of which the Duke of Newcastle, your Grandfather, and the Duke of Albemarle, the Father of your Illustrious Lord, were the most Glorious Examples that ever were, or ever shall be in the World. They were the Two Hercules Pillars of Honour and Loyalty, beyond which none can travel. Beyond them, all is Sky, Air, and Sea; bright Notion, empty Imagination, and fluctuating Fancy.  
The Duke of Newcastle was a Pillar like that of Seth, erected before the great Flood of Rebellion, withstood all the Fury of it, and when it could no longer support the Throne, it supported it self, and lifted up its Head above the Waves, when the Waves covered the highest Mountains, and our Palaces far under Water were become the Habitations of Monsters. This Pillar outlasted the Flood, and on it were engraven all that could be done by Arms, and all that could be written by Wit. And to that Eternal Monument of Wit, Valour and Loyalty, the Muses and the Heroes of all Ages shall repair, to pay their grateful Devotions, to read their Instructions, and consecrate their Wreaths.  
The Duke of Albemarle was a Pillar, which Nature and Fortune erected by wonderful Art under the Waters, when there seemed not the least Foundation for such a Work, and the Work impossible. Few saw it, till it was finished; then it appeared to all, and the Throne was established upon it. Then did the Waters sink to their proper places, the infernal Lakes and Springs whence they came: Then Men began to plant Vineyards, and to rejoice in the Increase of the Earth, and the Fruit of their Labours.  
On these two Columns, shining with Gold, but more excellent in the glorious Works engraven on 'em, stood the Palace of the British Sun.  
And now, Madam, it cannot be displeasing to your Grace, to look sometimes on the Image of that Virtue to which you are so nearly allied, and from which you derive such a vast Inheritance of Glory. And truly at this time both Image and Substance seem to need Protection, when some are endeavouring to reduce again the Substance to an Image.  
But that is too sad a Note to dwell upon, I shall leave it, and humbly beg, that Poetry, though here poorly clad, may have leave to lie at your Gates, because 'tis of the same Nation and Kindred with that Fair Quality which the Duke of Newcastle took into his Bosom, and Crowned.  
Then, when the World shall see how your Grace delights to Honour it, that Destruction shall never reach it, now and always intended it, by the mighty Empire of Fools.  
Then shall my Muse, though often sleeping, as often stumbling, and always in the dark, be secure under the Roof of your Grace's Favour, and walk boldly and pleasantly with such a Light shining round it, as the Title I beg, of  
Madam, Your Grace's most 
 obedient, humble 
 Servant, 
 JOHN CROWN.   

THE PREFACE.  
THIS Play, which I think the most Vigorous, of all my foolish Labours, was born in a time so unhealthy to Poetry, that I dare not venture it abroad without as many  as I can give it to keep it warm. Let this excuse then serve to cover some of the nakednesses and deformities of it, that they are not so much mine as the Faults of the troublesome times. I always expected to be assaulted by Enemies, but I did not expect they should drop out of the Clouds. I had heaped together all the Fancy I had to place myself out of the reach of my Enemies, but as I was building my Babel, those things which disordered greater matters than these, confounded my Language, and made me give over my work, that in the end of the Play, you will find me descended into the Plains, and lain down weary and fainting. But where I show least wit, I show most wisdom, for there I take my ease, and elsewhere I take pains to none, or very little purpose. To please Friends is hard, to please myself more difficult, but to please my Enemies impossible. How foolish then is my toil? Few Friends are made by Poetry, but many Enemies, and amongst 'em a most powerful one, Fortune.  
Fools damn good Plays, and Fortune good Poets. He may not be the best, but I am sure he is the wisest Poet who writes so that he can scarce be discovered to be a Poet; then Fortune will be afraid to shoot at him, left she wound one of her own party, the Fools. Much is lost by Poetry; Time, Pains, and often Friends: Nothing is gotten but a little Reputation, and that some envious Enemies of ours will rather fling to the Dogs than let us have it, witness the silly malice of some Adversaries of mine, who because my Epilogue had great success, would let any thing rather than me be the Author; though I had succeeded aswel in the same kind in my Epilogues to both my Jerusalem's, since my Enemies are such little creeping Creatures, as not to dare to look in the Face of a good Play, but to by't at the Tail, 'tis a shame to oppose 'em.  
To those who perhaps thinking themselves wiser than others, will not accept of my excuse of Laziness and Discouragement; for the inequalities of the Play, but ascribe 'em to my want of Judgement; I shall only say, supposing their Charge were true, I know no Poet, that like a Bird of Paradise, lives always in the Air and never lights, or if he does, he must sleep there sometimes. Did a man take Eternity to write in; though there be perfection in Eternity, there is none in Man; and he would be giddy and fall in going that vast round, especially if he always looked upwards.   

THE PROLOGUE,  
HOW? A new Play? is this a time for Plays?  
Wit was a wretched thing in its best days,  
A fair peor Wife, which only had a white  
And tempting Skin, which Vermin love to by't.  
But now the Nation in a tempest roll,  
And Old St. Peter, justles with St. Paul's,  
And whilst these two great Ladies fight and brawl,  
Pick pocket Conventicle Whore gets all.  
Ungrateful Jade, from Rome it is most clear,  
She had the stinking Fish she sells so dear,  
And in this broil no shelter can be found,  
In our poor Play house fallen to the ground.  
The Times Neglect, and Maladies have thrown  
The two great Pillars of our Playhouse down;  
The two tall Cedars of the vocal Grove,  
That vented Oracles of Wit and Love.  
Where many a Nightingale has sweetly sung,  
Whose Boughs with shrieks of Owls too oft has rung:  
But such strange Charms did in their Echoes lie;  
They gave the very Owls a Harmony.  
But in our Shrubs no such sweet Echoes dwell,  
Here Wit will find but Rods to switch her well.  
What makes her then appear? what makes a kind  
Young Wench go meet her Friend in rain and wind,  
And rather than the Assignation fail,  
Dangle at once her Honour and her Tail?  
Nature who did dispose her to the Trade,  
So soon, that she was scarcely born a Maid.  
Perhaps she'll blame her stars, but she would fall,  
To sinning, if there were no Stars at all.  
Nature to writing such delight has joined  
To propagate man's Wit as well as Kind.  
This Poet draws his Lust to write from thence.  
Did Malic ebb last him like a Pestilence,  
Like the blind Piper he'd the Plague outbrave,  
And tune his Pipe though carried to the Grave.   


Actor's Names.  
Charles, King of France.  
The Dauphin.  
The Constable of France.  
The Duke of Vendosme his Son, Favourite of the King.  
Count Brisac, the Dauphin's Favourite.  
Count La Force, a great Commander, a Malcontent.  
La Marre, a foolish villainous Courtier.   

The Women.  
Madamoiselle de Guise, a Beautiful young Lady, beloved by the Duke of Vendosme; and Contracted to him, and by the ill Arts of the Constable wrought to be secretly Married to the Dauphin.  
La Guard, her Woman and Confident, but false to her, and is the Constable's Instrument.   
Conspirators, Courtiers, Officers.  
The SCENE, PARIS.   

THE Ambitious Statesman; OR THE Loyal Favourite.  

ACTUS PRIMUS  Enter Great Constable alone. SCENE, His Apartment in the Lovure. Constable. 
YEsterday charged to come no more to Council!  
Last Night deprived of all my great Employments!  
A soft dismission, stuffed with downy words  
Sent me to sleep upon! and sleep I may,  
My Doors are quiet, and my Rooms are empty;  
No Courtiers russle in my Antichamber,  
Waiting my Rising; no Petitioners  
Attending in the Hall my coming down:  
All full of melancholy deathlike Silence.  
Have I ruled France ten flourishing years and more,  
Under, or rather far above the King,  
And shall I now be ruined by the Dauphin,  
A proud rash Boy? Let the young Polypheme,  
Devour the Calves of Court, I will outdo  
Ulysses, I will kindle such a Fire,  
Shall burn the Giant, and his Den together,  
Ho! There.  Enter Secretary. Secret. 
My Lord!  Const. 
Are the Dispatches gone,  
To Gascoin, Normandy, and Aquitain?  Secre. 
They went above an hour ago.  Const. 
That's well:  
Those Provinces are ready for Rebellion.  [Aside. 
And I have spurred 'em on; there shall be shortly  
Such a strange thing, as Liberty in France.  
I hope ere it be long, to hear in France  
The English Drums, beat Freedom, Freedom.  
I've sent a secret Invitation  
To their brave fiery young King, Henry the 5th.  
And I've enraged the Duke of Burgundy,  
That he is entered into League with him.  
And I'm preparing a Rebellion;  
A noble Fire to warm him at his Landing,  
From the cold moist Sea-Air.  Secre. 
He's strangely troubled.  [Aside. Const. 
No Messenger this Morning from my Son?  Secre. 
Not any yet, my Lord.  Const. 
Where's the Gentleman,  
Who came last Night?  Secre. 
I do not know, my Lord.  Const. 
What did he say? When will my Son be here?  Secre. 
He said (my Lord) his Excellence, was resolved  
To be at Court this Afternoon at farthest.  Const. 
His Excellence! his Excellence is an Ass:  [Aside. 
A Fellow full of Honesty, Morality,  
Of Loyalty, Philosophy, and Foolery:  
But I have laid a Bait to try his Morals.  
Ha! Knocking.  Enter a Servant. Seru. 
Count La Force, my Lord, desires  
Admission to your Lordship.  Const. 
Bring him in.  Enter Lafoy Force. Const. 
Friend, you astonish me! how dare you approach  
The unhealthy shade of an old blasted Tree?  
None come to me, but he who wants a Gibbet:  
And fain would hang himself the decent'st way.  La For. 
I was your Friend, my Lord, when you were honest,  
No sordid Flatterer of Tyranny:  
Before you climbed the Mountains of Advancement,  
To feed on Winds, as Spanish Horses do.  Const. 
My Lord, you love those Winds as much as I do;  
And hate the Fogs, that haunt the dirty Vales.  La For. 
That Dirt is bred by Tempests from above,  
From Clouds of Tyranny, where you have lived,  
And torn the Kingdom by the thundering power  
Of Constable of France.  Const. 
You would ha' mounted  
To the same Clouds, and made a Marshal's Staff,  
A Witches Staff, to carry you aloft,  
Could you ha' got one: but you were denied it.  
The King might cheaper have burnt all his Forests,  
Than saved that Staff: for you, and your good Friends.  
Set in revenge the Kingdom in a Flame.  La For. 
I made that Fire to melt down all our Chains,  
I hate to see my Countrymen abused.  Const. 
Hence with dissembling, we know one another,  
You and I would not care our Countrymen  
Were all to Horses turned, so we might ride 'em.  La For. 
I do deny it; I hate to ride my Country.  Const. 
But I hate more my Country should be ridden  
By Cowards in the Army, Fools in Council.  
Who can endure to see the honest Industries  
Of many scores of men plundered by Law,  
To feed a Fool, who is not half a Man?  La For. 
Well, is Brisac the Dauphin's Favourite,  
To have your Offices?  Const. 
So 'tis designed.  La For. 
Cannot your Son, the King's great Favourite,  
Whom he created lately Duke of Vendosme,  
Assist you?  Const. 
He!— A studious, moral Fool,  
A Moth, who has so long been fed on Books,  
His Skin is Paper, and his Blood is Ink.  
Insensible of all delights of Man▪  La For. 
Of all!  Const. 
Almost of all.  La For. 
What does he love?  Const. 
Only his Book, his Friend, his Honesty.  
And when the King, and Kingdom have occasion,  
He love's his Sword; else it might rust for ever:  
He would not draw it to procure himself  
The Empire of the World; he says, He needs it not.  
And he calls him a miserable Wretch,  
Who needs the Universe to make him happy.  La For. 
His temper differs much from yours.  Const. 
From mine!  
He walks directly backwards from my Steps.  
I wonder in what posture I begot him:  
Or in what humour: Surely I was thinking  
Of something else; and if I was, I cannot  
Imagine how he should creep through my Loins,  
Like Alpheus through the Sea, and never season  
Himself with any relish of my Nature.  La For. 
Sure he rushed from you in a mighty Torrent.  Const. 
Rather I threw him from me with abhorrence.  La For. 
Then you can hope for little and from him.  Const. 
Oh! Yes, I have observed in my Philosophy,  
Nature, an Enemy to Tyranny,  
Does always leave some tender place unguarded  
About unmatchable vast harnessed Animals,  
Where Death may give the World revenge and freedom.  
So this proud Fellow's Spirit, more invincible  
Than Whales, than Crocodiles, or Elephants,  
Has a soft place, his Heart, which has been wounded  
By the small Needles of a Woman's Eye.  La For. 
Then does he love?  Const. 
He does.  La For. 
Whom, for Heaven's sake?  Const. 
She whom all love, that wonder of the World  
Madamoiselle de Guise.  La For. 
that beauteous Creature?  
And what success ha'▪ s he?  Const. 
They are contracted.  La For. 
And no one hear of it?  Const. 
He keep's it secret,  
I know not why, but such has been his humour.  La For. 
And what of this?  Const. 
The Dauphin is his Rival.  La For. 
Ha! Then is she the talked of hidden Beauty,  
The Dauphin makes secret addresses to?  Const. 
The same.  La For. 
Good Heaven! What does the Dauphin mean,  
Is not the match with Burgundy concluded?  Const. 
It is, and therefore is this kept so secret  
By the King's strict Commands; who strove to break it,  
But could not.  La For. 
How came you to find it out?  Const. 
A Servant of my own happened to love  
Madamoiselle's chief Woman, and sole Confident;  
Whom I perceiving always vexed and thoughtful  
With a Face full of Gild, strictly examined,  
And got it out of him; and how his Mistress  
And he designed to ruin my Son's Interest,  
And raise their Fortunes by this greater Marriage.  La For. 
Here was a Mine cut to your Hand already.  Const. 
It was: I pardoned him, bid him proceed,  
Because he served in it his Prince the Dauphin,  
And I would join with 'em. Whilst I was plotting;  
Fortune which always takes into her Favour  
A hundred Villains for one honest Man,  
Gave my Design a noble rise: brought news  
To Court, that whilst my Son quartered at Metz,  
He and the fair young Princess of Lorraine,  
Had charmed each other.  La For. 
This inconstancy,  
Would enrage Madamoiselle de Guise to madness,  
For she is the haughtiest young Woman living.  Const. 
Yes, had you seen her Letters you would say so.  
My Instrument, her Woman, always brought 'em to me,  
I'd see if they were fit to go; at opening 'em  
I thought I had untied a Witch's knot,  
And let a Tempest out.  La For. 
And you I warrant  
Answered these Letters, in your Son's hand counterfeited.  Const. 
Exactly guessed: I stopped the good Fool's Letters,  
Wherein the Wretch proved himself very innocent;  
And in their room, I sent my forged one's to her;  
Wherein I made my Son own the inconstancy;  
Desire a mutual release of Vows.  
He would give her the Glories of the Dauphin,  
If she'd give him the beauties of his Princess.  La For. 
Did she not tear the Letters, and her Hair?  Const. 
Yes, and her Flesh, and to complete her madness,  
I bribed some cowardly Officers, my Son  
Had thrown out of his Army, to attest  
All my false Letters said; and more, how he  
Spoke of her openly with much contempt.  La For. 
Was ever a design managed like this?  
The Dauphin after this, sure had small difficulty  
To press her to accept his Love and Glory.  Const. 
That you may guests.  La For. 
What? are they married then?  Const. 
They were the other night, in such great Privacy,  
The King scarce knows it yet.  La Force. 
But can the Dauphin's  
Amour be wholly hidden from your Son?  Const. 
No, but he ne'er distrusts his Mistriss' falsehood;  
He only think's her jealous; and sent Messengers  
T' appease her anger, whom she would not see.  La For. 
Most excellent!  Const. 
Now when my Son returns,  
I will charge all my tricks upon the Dauphin;  
Nay more, perhaps I'll say, he whore's the Lady.  
And then the Dauphin envy's him, and hate's him,  
For saucily outshining him in Arms.  
Fortune has had so very little manners  
To slight the Dauphin, and attend my Son.  La. For. 
Here are most gallant hopes of a Rebellion.  Const. 
Brave hopes!  
For I have spread such lies against the Government,  
Have frighted all the people from their Wits,  
I doubt not but in little time to beg  
The Kingdom for a Fool, and be its Guardian.  La For. 
I have a mind to be a doing again,  
Though I've estate enough.  Const. 
Oh! damn Estate!  
'Tis useless without power to a great Mind.  
What? I may keep a Table, and be popular;  
That is, feed Fools and Knaves, and have no thanks.  
If I could cram an Ox in a Rogue's Jaws,  
It would not gag him from detracting from me.  
But I may compass Women; what o' that?  
If they be newly shelled from hanging Sleeves,  
They are so tender that they have no taste:  
So ignorant, they know not what to do with you.  
If ripe, they know too well then what to do with you.  
In short, Power is my pleasure.  
Five hundred thousand Livers yearly flow  
Into my Coffers; I have Palaces  
Exceed the King's; yet now thrown out of Power,  
I think myself a miserable Wretch.  
Come, bear me Company an hour or two,  
And see how I will flounder in my shallows,  
Like a great Whale, I'll make 'em glad to give me  
Sea-room enough, or I'll oreset the Kingdom.  
I'll seem religious to be damndly wicked,  
I'll act all villainy by holy shows,  
And that for piety on fools impose,  
Set up all Faiths, that so there may be none,  
And make Religion throw Religion down.  
I will seem Loyal, the more Rogue to be,  
And ruin the King by his own authority:  
Pretending men from Tyranny to save,  
I will the foolish credulous World enslave.  Exit. Enter the Dauphin and Lovize. SCENE, A Bedchamber. Dau. 
What is the reason of this great unkindness?  Loviz. 
Unkindness!  Dau. 
Yes, you are unkind to me,  
You forced yourself last Night out o' my Arms,  
And when I thought it was to sleep; you sighed,  
Nay more, you wept, wept bitterly; I heard you,  
Though I pretended sleeping; but the Damned  
As soon might slumber in their pains as I.  
When we were Arm in Arm locked close together,  
Could any sorrow ere have got between us,  
Had not your hollow Bosom let it in?  
Out of what corner of the Heaven's blue  
The Wind that did compose so many sighs,  
And made such stormy weather in my Bed?  Lou. 
I will not tell you. I'll in nothing gratify  
Him who can think so very meanly of me,  
To doubt my kindness to a Prince I've married.  Daup. 
I do not only doubt, but am assured  
You love some secret miserable wretch;  
For I will make him so, and in your sufferings,  
If him I cannot find.  Lou. 
Oh! in what Chains—  [Aside 
Have I myself in my distraction bound,  
For Vendosm's falsehood has destroyed my Wits,  
The fall of Heaven could not have broke me more.  
Vendosm, and Falsehood! I thought Heaven and Hell  
Would sooner have been joined than those two words.  Daup. 
Ha! are you weeping? Lest my fury find  
Your hidden Lover out! I'll find him out.  
This morn you early risen, and from your Cabinet  
You fetched his Picture out.  Lou. 
Oh! I'm discovered!—  [Aside Dauph. 
Then to the Window went and gazed upon it.  
Debauched the Morning in its Infancy,  
To light you whilst your eyes enjoyed the Picture;  
They mingled wantonly with every line in't,  
They shot themselves quite through and through the shadow.  
The modest morning was ashamed to open  
Her blushing eyelids to behold your wantonness.  
Whilst you, contented not alone with looks,  
Did scorch the Picture with your burning Kisses,  
As if you said would kiss it into Life.  
I lay expecting when th'en livened shadow  
Would start-into a man; and cuckold me.  Lou. 
Oh! you have spoked largely in the praise  
Of your great Wisdom, Kindness, Generosity.  Daup. 
I think, I showed myself generous enough.  
I did not rise and tear th' adulterer's Picture,  
Your Body, Soul and Reputation,  
Into a thousand Pieces.  Lou. 
Would you had;  
Then Death had freed me from your Tyranny.  Daup. 
Then you love Death it seems better than me.  
You reward well my slighting, for your sake,  
The Sister of the Duke of Burgundy:  
And by that scorn, for haling on my head  
The wrath of Burgundy, a War from England,  
The Curses of all France, and of my Father.  Lou. 
Did you not draw all these upon yourself?  
Threatening destruction to my Family,  
And death to me, if I refused your Love?  Daup. 
Oh! You do well to call to my remembrance  
Those hateful things; as if you was afraid  
Lest I should love you.  Lou. 
I am weary of this,  
I'll hear no more of it; Good morning to you.  Daup. 
What? Will you leave me then?  Lou. 
Should I stay here,  
To hold my hand up like a Criminal  
Before your Jealousy, a base born Passion,  
That has not one brave thought of all its race.  
I'll leave you till your soul gets better company.  Exit. Enter La Marre. Daup. 
She makes me mad! Ha! Sirrah: Are you here?  La Mar. 
Oh! here's the Prince in one of his mad fits,  
there's no scaping him; What shall I do?  Daup. 
You are a Rogue.  La Ma. 
I am, Sir, if you say so.  Daup. 
Sirrah, you are, whether I say it or no.  La Ma. 
Yes Sir, I am.  Daup. 
You are a flattering Rogue.  La Ma. 
Yes Sir.  Daup. 
A double tongued dissembling Rogue.  La Ma. 
Yes Sir.  Daup. 
Who serve your King for your own ends.  La Ma. 
Most certain Sir.  Daup. 
And do not care how odious  
Your knavery renders him, so you can get by it.  La Ma. 
Most true Sir, It has been my constant practice.  Daup. 
And when you have gotten all you can by him,  
For new advantages will turn his Enemy.  La Ma. 
With all my heart Sir.  Daup. 
A seditious Rogue,  
And think there lie no Obligations on you  
Of loyalty, of gratitude, or honesty;  
But you will rather side with factious Rogues,  
With such a Rogue as the great Constable,  
Because he did prefer you to the Court,  
Than to the King, who made you what you are.  La Ma. 
That Sir, I've always done.  Daup. 
And don't you merit.  
Hanging Sir?  La Ma. 
Ay Sir, that's not to be questioned.  Daup. 
Ho! Take this fellow here, and use him severely.  Enter Gentlemen. La. Ma. 
With all my Heart, and take it for an honour.  Daup. 
I'm sick of Choler still, this narrow souled—  
This shallow slave cannot contain the half—  The Gentlemen thrust out La Marre. Enter Brisac. Daup. 
Oh! my Brisac, give me thy speedy counsel  
Or else I shall run mad, I've been abused—  Bris. 
By whom Sir?  Daup. 
By that beauteous thing I've married;  
I know not what she is, Woman or Devil.  
She's both, I think; to me she's a Devil.  
When ever I embrace her, from my Arms  
She vanishe's in Lightning, and in Thunder;  
But there's a Slave, I know not who he is,  
A hidden Slave, who finds her Flesh and Blood.  Bris. 
Oh! say not so Sir.  Dauph, 
I have proofs of it;  
But I'll have more; I'll rifle all her Cabinets,  
I'll rack her Servants, nay perhaps rack her;  
Why should I not? She has tormented me.  
Along with me.  Exit. Bris. 
This Prince, though young and brave,  
And Heir of France, how wretched is he? hated  
By his loved Wife, his Father, and all France.  
Our envy never would great Men pursue,  
If their great Plagues, and Passions too we knew.  Exit. 
Finis Actus Primi.   

ACTUS SECUNDUS.  Enter Lovize, and La Guard. La Gua. 
Woven I had never meddled in this Business.  [Aside. Lou. 
Comes he to Court to Day?  La Gua. 
The Duke of Vendosme—  Lou. 
You might have answered me, without impertinently  
Naming a Name so very unpleasing to me.  La Gua. 
Ah! that's not true; that Name, if she were dead,  
Called o'er her Tomb, would raise her up to Life—  [Aside. 
Yes Madam, He does come.  Lou. 
Oh! then will be—  [Aside. 
The mighty parting pang; does he come married?  
Not that I care, I ask for curiosity.  La Gu. 
Ah! pride; her heart is breaking, though she hide's it: I know not Madam.  [Aside. Lou. 
Go, and ask your friend.  La Gu. 
I was now talking with him.  Lou. 
Call him hither.  La Guard brings in the Constable's Secretary. 
Well, do you hear yet if the Duke of Vendosm  
Be married to the Princess of Lorraine?  Secre. 
'Tis thought so Madam.  Lou. 
Did you ever see her?  Sec. 
Oft! I have oft described her to you Madam.  Lou. 
It may be so, I never think of her.  
What, is she handsome?  Sec. 
Judged by all, the greatest  
Beauty in the whole world, next your Highness.  Lou. 
How tall is she?  Sec. 
She is—  Lou. 
Well— 'tis not matter.  
Did you ever see the Duke and her together?  Sec. 
Who rather ever saw'm asunder, Madam,  
Since their acquaintance?  Lou. 
And did you ever hear him  
Make me the Subject of his campe-discourse?  Sec. 
Only in wondering how he came deceived  
Into the opinion that you were fair.  
'tis true, he said the Princess of Lorraine  
Was so extravagantly beautiful  
After the sight of her, no other woman  
Can be endured; his cashiered Officers  
Can tell you more at large.  Lou. 
Yes they have told me.  
Leave me! here was the excellent Man pretended  
Such virtue! How would the Dissembler talk?  
Talk like an Angel.  La Gu. 
Yes, and look like an Angel.  
He is the loveliest Man mine eyes ere saw.  Lou. 
Go burn his Picture— Ha! the Dauphin here.  Enter the Dauphin. Daup. 
Ha! Have I catched you again at your devotion  
To your Soul's Idol? quickly give it me.  Lou. 
Oh! You delight to show the Giant strength  
Of your young Conjugal authority,  
What will the Monster do when grown?  Daup. 
This Hercules  
Shall strangle biggest Serpents in its Cradle.  
The Picture, come!  Lou. 
What Picture would you have?  
A Map of jealous Italy or Spain?  
Look in your bosom, there's a most exact one.  Daup. 
Give over, its dangerous trifling with me.  Lou. 
Nay, if you threaten, threaten those that fear,  
Your threats are lost on me.  Daup. 
Then I entreat.  Lou. 
Then I do grant. There take the Picture, Sir.  La Gu. 
Oh! she has given it him! Now all will out.  Aside. Daup. 
What's this, The Sister of the Duke of Burgundy?  Lou. 
I hate myself for this deceit, but more  Aside 
The Man that makes me such an odious creature.  Daup. 
Was this the cause of all your secret sorrows?  Lou. 
Death would be easier to me than lying,  Aside 
If I could bear a mortal wound in honour.  
Yes, there's the Princess, Sir, that has your love,  
In me you married but your haughty Will,  
Which madly drove, because it was opposed,  
And now the brittle corner of your heart  
Which kept some love for me is broke, and all  
The Vapour fled, and now you see your error.  La Gu. 
Rarely come off!—  Aside. Daup. 
And have I wronged thee so?  
I am a Brute, and thou art a bright Angel:  
No wonder Heaven has blasted the unnatural  
And horrid mixture of a Brute and Angel.  
Yet there is manhood in the ruins of me,  
I was a Prince, before that dog, my Jealousy  
Fastened upon me, and tore me into this shape.  Lou. 
Oh! you would hid your kindness for that Princess,  
Under the Veil of Jealousy.  Daup. 
I hid  
My kindness for her? I'll proclaim my hate to her,  
I'll pave the streets of Paris with her Pictures  
The day I make my happy Nuptials public:  
Nor will I dart the thunder of my Vengeance  
On a thin shadow only, and so lose it.  
I will make Burgundy the seat of misery,  
That Malefactors shall be banished thither,  
When they deserve worse punishment than Death.  Lou. 
Oh! what a change is here? your Head will grow  
Giddy I fear, with turning round so fast,  
And you will fall again from this high Love.  Daup. 
Oh! Never! Never!  Lou. 
Yes, in little time  
I shall be called the Helena of France,  
Fatal Incendiary, enchanting Mischief,  
That brings your Father's Curses on your head,  
The Curses of all France.  Daup. 
Thou art all Blessing!  
And Heaven rain thee down upon my head,  
Soft as a flake of snow, and full as cold,  
But yet thy coldness sets my Blood a burning.  Lou. 
This is a present humour put in motion,  
Weak was the Philter from my eyes you drunk,  
It only works, when some wild passion shakes you.  Daup. 
No more, I love! and bow my knee for pardon.  Lou. 
Rise Sir, and be assured, I will not, cannot  
Make myself more unworthy of your Love,  
Than by a Subjects birth I am already.  Daup. 
Excellent Creature! thou wert never born,  
But cam'st immediately from Heaven's hands.  
Perfection cannot come from Imperfection.  Lo. 
Wretch that I am! to hate a Prince who loves me,  [Aside. 
And love a base false Subject who contemns me.  Exit. Enter the King, attended. A Gent. 
The King Sir.  King. 
In posture of devotion  
To your fair Mistress?  Daup. 
Sir, I love her well.  K. 
Yes, I believe you do; you love her better  
Than your obedience to your King and Father,  
Or than the peace and welfare of your Country.  Dauph. 
My Country's welfare! why should Princes marry  
To make their Country happy? give themselves  
Most cursed Nights, that Slaves may have good days?  
Will any Subject marry a damned Wife  
Only for Wealth, and give his King the Portion?  
That match with Burgundy, was the advice  
Of some old cowardly covetous Counsellors:  
Who fear the Soldier, in few Months should spend,  
What they have all their Lives been cozoning for:  
Or that their paltry issue should be killed,  
And ne'er enjoy their Father's Knavery.  
For 'tis the constant Creed of most old Fools,  
That they enjoy their Wealth when they are dead,  
In the damned silly Persons of their Sons,  
When the young Fools themselves do not enjoy it.  
From all these Knaves I will defend your Honour.  K. 
Win yourself honour, you have now occasion;  
I know you hear the King of England's landed.  Daup. 
I am glad of it, 'tis Summer now in France.  
Fear sinks the blood in your old Counsellors Veins,  
As a cold hand does Water in a Weatherglass,  
You cannot guests the Wether then by them.  
Now frosty Peace is gone, the Weather's hot:  
So hot it shall scorch the English Troops, and make 'em  
Sweat all their Souls away in bloody Baths.  K. 
I doubt it, for I know 'em a brave Nation:  
If we 'ere get the better it must be,  
By fasting longer, and by hiding better  
Behind thick Woods, and by broad Lakes and Rivers,  
By trusting to our Trees, not to our Men;  
To our cold Rivers, not to our hot Blood:  
For if they ever come to blows, they beat us.  Daup. 
These eaten your Vendosm's cold Imaginations.  K. 
He has a cooler Head, but hotter Heart,  
Then thou hast; that brave youth thou enviest.  Daup. 
I envy him! I scorn him, he's a Dutchman;  
He has no spark of the French fires in's nature,  
No more true Conduct, than his Father Honesty,  
I'll drive'em both out of the Court and Army.  K. 
I'll part with thee before the Duke of Vendosme.  Daup. 
Value the the son of a Traitor above me?  
I'll humble the proud slave when  I see him.  Exit. K. 
'Tis very well: You king it, sir, betimes.  Enter a Gentleman. Gent. 
Sir, the Great Constable attends without.  K. 
Let him attend, he has offended me.  
Did not his Son's great merits plead for him  
I'd ruin him; howe'er I'll let him know  
I understand his actions, and resent 'em.  Enter the Great Constable, La Marre, and other Courtiers, Pass by, and look scornfully upon him. Const. 
How many Ages will they make me wait?  
Ha! Is it so indeed? And am I fallen  
Into these wretch's scorn? Nay then I know  
How the wind blows. You sir, who like a fly  [to La 
Are blind in Autumn, when the cold approaches  [Marre▪ 
And the tall trees begin to shed their leaves.  
And is it Autumn with me then indeed?  
Do you not see me, Sir? Must I for ever  
Attend here? ha'!  La Ma. 
My Lord, I cannot mind  
All men's affairs and businesses, not I  Const. 
All men's affairs, Sir? do you levelly me with all men?  La Ma. 
I must wait on the King's business,  
And the King's business must be done, my Lord.  Const. 
I prithee what's that business thou attendest on?  
To carry Charcoal in to air his Shirt?  
I know thee, thou wert once my menial Servant,  
And I preferred thee to the place thou holdest.  La Ma. 
'Tis true, my Lord, You laid an obligation on me,  
But what then: I am now his Majesties,  
And his Majesty's business must be done.  Const. 
His Majesty's business—  La M. 
Nay, my Lord, I fear you not,  
I know what the King said of you just now,  
And what the Dauphin said to me this morning.  
You'll never come in play again I'm sure.  
And so your Lordship's servant.  Exit. Const. 
Villain and Fool!  
How such a Slave, like dirt, flies in his teeth  
And dirties him who raises it from the Earth!  Enter Lafoy Force. La For. 
My Lord, the King has gotten Information  
Of all your Plots; give 'em o'er, they will ruin you;  
Like Vipers they will tear their Mother's bowels  
That gave 'em being.  Const. 
Ha! got Information:  
Then, like a whorish Woman, once discovered,  
I will grow impudent; Lie in in public  
Of my Designs; I'll fling 'em in the World  
As carelessly as Nature does all Monsters,  
Never appointing certain times of Birth;  
My Monsters shall be born with Teeth and Fangs too.  La For. 
You will undo yourself; take good advice,  
And live at ease.  Const. 
I cannot in disgrace.  La For. 
You have a vast estate.  Const. 
I am a Beggar,  
When I want all the Wealth I value, Power.  La For. 
You have great Palaces:  Const. 
Great Gaoles, great Dungeons,  
Dark horrid Dungeons, now the light of all  
My honour is gone out.  Enter the King attended. La For. 
See! See! the King!  
Take good advice before you ruin all.  Const. 
Ha! he regard's me not: Oh! torment! torment!  
Sir, with your pardon; I must speak with you.  
Are you resolved, Sir, on your own destruction?  
For let me tell you, Sir, I am your Eyes;  
And you let Traitors tear me from your Head,  
And then conduct you blindfold to destruction.  
You find it not, but, Sir, I do with Sorrow.  K. 
Hence with thy Tears, they fall upon the Ground;  
And there discover thy dissembling Face.  
There is no Hell to thee, like a low Fortune;  
And when thou art in Hell thou art a Devil:  
Tormenting both thyself and all the World.  
Rebellion first did light thee to the Court.  
I have permitted so many to light  
Themselves to greatness by that filthy Flambeau,  
That all the Louvre's blackened with the smoke.  
And all my Councils strongly smell of Knaves.  
But I'll chase them, and that ill practice, from me.  
In short, for thy Son's sake, I fully pardon  
All thy past Faults, and give thee thy Estate.  
Go home, and live in ease and honesty.  
Be wise, accept this favour whilst 'tis offered.  La For. 
Do, do, accept it.  [Aside Const. 
Peace, I will be damned first.  
Sir, can I either live in ease or honesty  
When by retiring I resign you up  
To those who seek your Life?  K. 
Ha!  Const. 
Sir; 'Tis true.  K. 
And who are those?  Const. 
They are such whose impious hands  
The ties of nature (one would think) should hold  
From deeds so horrid!  K. 
Who dost mean? My Son.  La F. 
Oh! have a care, retreat;  
You're on a Precipice.  [Aside. Const. 
Let me alone! [Aside] We are told by Philosophers  
The principles of Death spring from our Natures;  
He who intends your Death sprung from your Loins.  La For. 
He will undo himself.—  [Aside. Const. 
Sir, it is truth;  
And his beloved Brisac, is his chief Counsellor.  K. 
Know if each word thou sayest, swell not with truth,  
The breath of Plagues should be less fatal to thee  
Then that that formed and vented this foul Charge.  Const. 
So! so; an honest man has great encouragement  
To serve his Prince, 'tis well I have a Conscience.  Enter the Dauphin and Brisac. K. 
Here they are both; come answer for yourselves,  
The Constable accuses both of you  
Of blackest Treasons.  Daup. 
How! accuses me?  Const. 
Yes, you Sir! Take my Head for speaking Truth,  
I'll proudly suffer Martyrdom for Loyalty.  
What dost thou charge me with?  Const. 
With close Designs;  
To get Brisac my Offices, that he  
May assist you to get the King's great Office.  Daup. 
Oh! Villain! Villain!  Const. 
I can prove it, Sir.  Bris. 
Oh! Sir, I kneel and call Heaven to my witness.  Const. 
You may call long enough before he'll come.  
Sir, to oppose this impious Design  
Was that that made me bear th'uneasy Court  
When it was grown such an unpleasant Clime,  
I saw not in a year one summers day;  
My Enemies were a perpetual storm,  
And you permitted 'em to blow upon me:  
Yet, for your safety I endured it all,  
Not for the love of Greatness, Heaven knows.  Daup. 
No! no! not you.  Const. 
Sir, I was born with Greatness;  
I've Honour's, Titles, Power, here within.  
All vain external Greatness I contemn.  
Am I the higher for supporting Mountains?  
The taller for a Flatterers humble bowing?  
Have I more room for being thronged with followers?  
The larger Soul for having all my Thoughts  
Filled with the Lumber of the Sat Affairs?  
Honours and Riches are all splendid Vanities;  
They are of chiefest use to Fools and Knaves.  
A Fool indeed, has great need of a Title.  
It teaches men to call him Count and Duke,  
And to forget his proper name of Fool.  
Gold is of use to every sort of Knave;  
It helps the ambitious Knave to Offices,  
Th' unjust contentious Knave to others Right,  
The lustful Knave to others Wives and Daughters;  
Then strowed on all the Blots of a man's Life,  
It does not only cover 'em, but gild 'em,  
But what's all this to a wise innocent Man?  Daup. 
Ay! such another as yourself, good Man.  Bris. 
Sir, could an Actor make himself a God  
By flying o'er a Stage on golden Wires,  
Then might he make himself an Honest Man  
By mounting high on rich and golden Words.  
But dares he boast thus of his Innocence,  
Whose Treasons are most visible to all?  
Has he not filled all France with Factions?  
O'erspread the Kingdom, like an Indian Tree,  
With mighty Forests sprung out of himself?  Const. 
Why shouded I do this, Sir? I would not break  
My sleep to get your Crown, what should I do with ' t?  
Palsies would shortly shake it from my Head.  
Nor would I care to leave it to my Son;  
'Twill be all one to me when I am dead.  
If he be Crowned or Victimed on my Tomb.  
If he be Crowned, his Glory will not shine  
Into my Grave and warm my dust to see it.  
If he be Victimed there, I shall not feel it.  
'Twill be no more to me than if they plucked  
Some pretty flower that grew out o' my dust.  Daup. 
Oh! pretty words! fine phrases!  K. 
Well, Brisac.  
Accusing him, proves not you innocent,  
You first shall come to trial.  Bris. 
Sir, I beg it.  Const. 
Yes; and I beg, Sir, he may be secured.  Bris. 
Load me with Fetters, keep me in a Dungeon.  Const. 
Yes, you shall be secured, whilst they suspect you  
Honest, but when you shall appear  
That useful thing, a Knave, Court Witchcraft then  
Shall mount you o'er all Scaffolds, and all Gibbets,  
Out of the reach of Justice.  Daup. 
There's no Trick  
So base; I will not play in thy opinion.  Bris. 
Then to prevent all hopes of my escape,  
I humbly beg, that I may be his Prisoner.  Daup. 
His Prisoner?  K. 
You are too concerned to speak,  
It shall be so.  Daup. 
Come then, I give him to thee.  
But hark! I'll have him weighed, and if thou dost  
Return him to me lighter by one grain,  
Thy flesh shall fifty-fold repay the loss;  
If he shall lose one hair, I'll have thy head.  Const. 
Oh! these are equal do, but no matter,  
I shall return him heavier than I had him,  
For I have weighty Witnesses,— here's one.—  La For. 
Who I?—  [Aside. Const. 
You must be one.—  [Aside. 
I will draw in  
This wary fool.—  [Aside. Daup. 
How! thou a witness, Villain.  La For. 
Villain!—  
Nay then I'll own myself a Witness.  [Aside. 
Yes, I'm a Witness, Sir.  Daup. 
Oh! lying Slave!  
K. Be gone! I'll bear no more outrageous carriage.  Daup. 
I will obey you, Sir, remember Constable.  Exit. K. 
Now I'll this minute seize on both your Fortunes,  
I'll leave you no materials for bribes.  Exit. La For. 
How's this!—  Const. 
Am I thus served?  La For. 
You have engaged me  
In a fine business.  Const. 
I will make thy Bowels  
Sow up this Breach.  Bris. 
Wilt thou abuse me then?  Const. 
Away with him.  A Guard carry out Brisac. 
I'll make him own all I have charged him with,  
Or I will let the Sun behold his Entrails.  
I scorn their threats; My son returns to day  
With a brave Army.  La For. 
And a Troop of Virtues.  Const. 
I'll thrust my Principles or dagger in him;  
I love my Power and Honour above him;  
I got him in one night, I did not get  
Honour so fast, I toiled for that some years.  La For. 
Hence with your damned designs, if they succeed  
You will be called a false ungrateful Villain,  
To seek the ruin of that King from whom  
You have received so many Royal Favours.  Const. 
Old Favours are Old Almanacs, ne'er looked on;  
Who minds what Wether 'twas a year ago?  
The last years Sun ripen's not this year's Fruit.  
Nor am I a False Man, in being Wise,  
For as the Money's false that's mixed with Brass,  
So he is a False Man, who is an Ass.  Exeunt. Trumpets enter at one door, the King and Train, La Marre among the Train: At the other, the Duke of Vendosme, followed by Officers. K. 
The Duke of Vendosme come! Welcome my Friend;  
More welcome than the Victories thou bringst.  
Duke, You own 'em to your Cause and gallant Army.  K. 
Thou art to all men Just, but to thyself.  Du. 
I do not love, Sir, like too many Generals,.  
To steal Renown out of the Public Baggage.  K. 
In stead of that thou givest away thy own;  
Praise is the only thing thou runnest away from.  D. 
I'm not ambitious much of any Kingdom,  
But least of all to have one in the Air;  
Where, let a man have never such large Dominion,  
A Hurry-cane will be a greater Prince.  
The force of that can tear up Trees and Rocks:  
But all the stormy Praise that all the Heroes  
Can by their blustering Swords collect together,  
Cannot pull up one Stoic by the roots,  
Who stands in full defiance of their madness.  
How fond is it to toil in the World's Forest,  
In hewing down Mankind, only to hear  
Some hollow hearts echo our mighty blows?  
But 'tis more foolish to toil all one's life  
That Fame may toss our Ashes when we be dead.  
So we have no repose living or dead.  
They who are gone to rest in Marble Beds,  
Sleep fast enough, and need no Wind to rock 'em.  K. 
I never thought Fame a lawful cause of War.  D. 
Wars are good Physic when the World is sick.  
But he who cut's the Throats of Men for Glory,  
Is a vain savage Fool; he strives to build  
Immortal Honours upon man's mortality,  
And glory on the shame of humane Nature,  
To prove himself a man by Inhumanity.  
He puts whole Kingdoms in a blaze of War,  
Only to still mankind into a Vapour;  
Empties the World to fill an idle Story.  
In short, I know not why he should be honoured,  
And they that murder men for money hanged.  K. 
Thy Sentiments are great, and worthy of thee.  D. 
I hate these potent Madmen, who keep all  
Mankind awake, whilst they by their great deeds  
Are drumming heard upon this hollow World,  
Only to make a sound to last for Ages.  
Yet Flatterers call these Mighty madmen, Heroes.  K. 
Yes, and they honour 'em with public Triumphs.  D. 
They shame 'em rather; for to me a Triumph  
Appears a public sacrifice to Insolence;  
Adoring Pride as they did Plagues and Fevers.  
If ever I had seen a Roman Triumph,  
I should ha' pitied the poor Conqueror,  
To see the tender man fallen so sick,  
By the ill savours of a field of slaughter,  
That he came home with his Head bound with Laurel,  
Gasping in Chariots for the People's breath.  K. 
For ever could I hear thee thus discourse;  
But I have business must divert our talk.  D. 
Yes Sir, I hear the King of England's landed.  K. 
He is.  D. 
He leads a very gallant Nation.  
●ve tried 'em oft in Battles and in Sieges.  
They despise Walls and Trenches, they are so used  
To cross the Ocean, they laugh at Trenches.  K. 
My Son despises 'em.  D. 
He's too brave.  
His too hot Martial Fires burn out the Eyes  
Of his clear Understanding.  K. 
His too hot  
Amorous Fires have kindled this ill War.  D. 
Now dare not I inquire into this Story.  [Aside. 
For I've been Thunder-stricken with report.  K. 
If he be married, as I fear he is,  
A War is like to be his fair Wife's Portion.  
And a rich Portion too in the esteem  
Of him, and his licentious followers.  Du. 
War is the harvest Sir, of all ill men,  
In War they may be Brutes with reputation.  K. 
Now let me whisper thee about thy Father.  La Mar. 
This Duke here keep's a talking with the King,  
He hopes to hold himself up with his Wit—  
Pshaw!— Wit's a thing will never do at Court.—  K. 
Now Sirs, I charge you all, do not report  
Or think the Duke is shaken in my favour,  
Because his Father's fallen; his Father, like  
A heavy lumbring beam in a housetop  
Did rather press him down than hold him up;  
To honour the Duke's merit then, shall be  
Esteemed by me as merit; and so Sirs embrace him.  La Ma. 
Oh! I am in a very fine condition,  
Who have affronted and opposed his Father.  
I thought their damned great Family was ruined!  
Pox o' these Court intrigues! a man is trapped  
And snapped, he knows not how to turn himself.  
Why is the King so fond of this same Vendosme?  
He is no dresser, do but see how awkardly  
His damned Crevat is tied? Were I a King  
I'd hang a man should come into my presence  
With suell a damned Crevat, and tied so slovenly.  
Then he is no Dancer neither: What's he good for?  
Oh! he is a Wit forsooth! Hang all these Wits?  
They are good for nothing but to jeer and scribble.  
This Vendosme must be loved because his tongue  
Hangs well, I would his neck were hung as well.  
But 'tis in vain to mutter, I must flatter him.  
My noble Lord, your Grace's humble Servant.  Du. 
Honest La Marre, how dost?  La Ma. 
Ever in health,  
And in good Fortune when your Grace is so.  Du. 
I thank thee good La Marre.  La Ma. 
My Lord, I'm tied  
By most particular strong Obligations  
To your Grace's Family, I own my Fortunes  
To your most noble Father's Love and Bounty.  Du. 
I will succeed him in his Love to thee.  La Ma. 
So now my Interest which was off the Hinges  
Is nailed on fast again; but I will go  
Shortly behind the Door, and clinch the Nail;  
I'll make him a particular Address  
At his own Lodgings, and then all is done.  
Then I'll not fail to make my Court to him  
Almost at all his Levyes and his Couchees.  K. 
Come in with me, my Lord,  
I must talk more with you.  Exeunt. Du. 
I will attend you sir, my soul is troubled,  
Where e'er I go, I meet a wand'ring rumour,  
Lovize is the Dauphins secret Mistress.  
I heard it in the Army, but the sound  
Was then as feeble as the distant Murmurs  
Of a great River mingling with the Sea.  
But now I am come near this Rivers fall,  
'Tis louder than the Cataracts of Nile.  
If this be true—  
Doomsday is near, and all the Heavens are falling.  
I know not what to think of it, for every where  
I meet a choking dust, such as is made  
After removing all a Palace Furniture;  
If she be gone, the World, in my esteem,  
Is all bare Walls; nothing remains in it  
But Dust and Feathers; Like a Turkish Inn,  
And the fowl Steps where Plunderers have been.  Exit.  

ACTUS TERTIUS.  Enter Great Constable alone. SCENE, His Apartment in the Court. Const. 
ALL seized at once! Is this the good effect  
Of my wise Plots? Oh! my unquiet spirit!  
Sure some men's souls are given'm for plagues,  
My soul to me, is all the Plagues of Egypt.  
My thoughts are Frogs, and Flies, and Lice, and Locusts.  
When Honours are reigned down on any other,  
A Plague of Hail is reigned down upon me.  
When men's Prosperity shines hot upon me,  
My poisonous nature breaks out all in Boyles.  Oh! 
Come My Lord: let's meditate revenge.  Enter Lafoy Force. La For. 
Had we been wise we never had needed it.  Const. 
Were the King wise we never had lived to plot it.  
The King's unskilled in gallant wicked Men;  
Undo us, and not send us to the Devil;  
The Devil for that shall send us to the King.  
No Man so brave as he who dares be wicked;  
Ill has no Friend to trust to, but it's own  
Bastard, Success; the offspring of its strength.  La. For. 
Know you your Son's arrived?  Const. 
Is he?  La For. 
He is.  Const. 
So, that's good news: I am prepared to cheat him.  
In pious dress I'll steal into his Bosom,  
As Knaves (they say) do in St. Francis habit,  
Cheat Heaven, and creep into old Abraham's Bosom.  La For. 
I doubt he will not be deceived so easily.  Const. 
Oh! he who has foolish good nature in him;  
Has a soft Girll the Portress of his Breast,  
Who will be easily moved to open the Door.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
The Duke, my Lord, is come.  Const. 
Oh! bring him.  La For. 
I'll leave you for a while.  Const. 
Do, good, my Lord.  Exit. La Force. Enter Duke of Vendosm. 
My Son! and have I lived to see thy Face!  
I thank my Enemies they leave me thee,  
A greater Joy, than all they have taken from me.  Duk. 
Now is my Father falling to his Arts:—  [Aside 
To strive to work me to his practices.  Const. 
Son, I despaired to see thee any more.  Duk. 
Why so, my Lord?  Const. 
My Heart is almost broken.  Duk. 
What break's your Heart?  Const. 
Disgraces; I am thrust  
To my Grave's brink, by injuries and dishonours.  Duk. 
I hear you have fallen into the King's displeasure.  Const. 
Into the Dauphin's rage.  Duk. 
For what desert?  Const. 
Do any rise or fall in Courts by merit?  
A want of faults is often a great fault.  
How fond are some great men of Fools and Dwarves,  
Because they are good Foils? but tall desert  
Does often saucily overlook a Prince.  
I am no Dwarf to let great Fools stride o'er me,  
To the King's Breast.  Duk. 
And shall that break your Heart?  
If I disdained to be my Prince's Dwarf,  
I would scorn more to be his Marble Statue;  
To weep when ever the Court weather's damp.  Const. 
Damp! it is stormy; one tempestuous blast  
Tore from me all my shining Robes at once.  Duk. 
They were too heavy for your Years to carry,  
For all the envy of the Kingdom hung on 'em.  Const. 
But they have dressed up Fools and Blocks in 'em.  
Such blockish Fools are raised one would imagine,  
The Court is rather pitching of the Bar,  
Then raising Men to Honour; I can name  
Some Counsellors, who cannot speak good sense;  
The Wretches have no other use of Tongues  
Than Dogs of Tails, to wag 'em when they fawn.  
The shining Tongue of their chief leading Orator,  
Has neither edge nor point; but finely scabberded  
In Velvet Words: is like a Sword of State  
Borne before public business for a show.  Duk. 
Why should this grieve you?  Const. 
I abhor that Fools  
Should go before me in Command and Power.  Duk. 
He is not honoured most, who goes before.  
Mace and Sword bearers go before a King.  
Methinks when e'er I see Authority,  
Lugger a heavy Fool upon her Shoulders  
Before me, I have State bestowed upon me,  
And have a Leaden Mace carried before me.  Const. 
Come 'tis unnatural Fools should be uppermost.  D. 
'Tis very natural vain things should be uppermost,  
In such a World of Vanity as this;  
Where massy substances of things sink down,  
And nothing stay's but Colours, Sounds, and Shadows.  
What mighty things derive their power from Colours:  
Courts own their Majesty to Pomp, and Show:  
Altars their Adoration, to their Ornaments:  
Women their Lovers, to their Paint and Washes;  
Fools their esteem to Periwigs and Ribbons.  
How many Trades are there that live by tones?  
The cheating Beggar whine's our Money from us;  
The Player by his tone will make us weep,  
When Men's substantial sorrows cannot do it.  
An Orator will set the World a dancing  
After his pipe when Reason cannot stir it.  
Fanatic canting Priests, will overturn Kingdoms  
Only by tones, and thumping upon Pulpits.  
And silly human herds, as soon as e'er,  
They hear the wooden thunder, prick up Ears,  
And Tails, and frighted run they know not whither.  Const. 
Go, angle not for me with rotten Hairs,  
The combings of Philosophers old Pates.  
We have all our several Passions that command us,  
I am a Slave to Honour and Ambition,  
And thou to fair Madamoselle de Guise.  Du. 
Ha!—  [Starts Const. 
Have I touched you, Sir? Now Sir, suppose  
This beantious parcel of your Soul, this parcel?  
This soul of yours were torn out of your Body,  
Would you not feel it? ha'!  Du. 
He stabs me!  [Aside 
In my old Wound.  Const. 
Oh! Are you startled, Sir?  
Say she were Whored, Sir.  Du. 
Oh! I am abused,—  [Aside. 
All, all agree about this cursed story.  Const. 
What now? you are awake, I have roused you  
Out of your Dream of Stoical Philosophy,  
And you have Blood and Passions stirring in you:  
I thought your Veins were only Veins in Marble.  Du. 
No, no, my Lord, I am a Man, no Statue,  
No Pasquin, only to hang Libels on.  Const. 
Then since thou art a Man, and hast some feeling  
I will not say she's whored, but I will say,  
A married man enjoys her.  Du. 
Do not say it, my Lord.  Const. 
'Tis true, I have seen 'em folded in embraces,  
Have seen their souls skip from their Eyes and dance  
On wanton looks, like Tumblers upon Ropes.  
Have seen their tilting Lips meet close, and grapple,  
As they would tug each other from their Faces;  
Then with what breath their pleasant strife had left 'em,  
They'd fling with scorn out of their laughing mouths  
The Name of Vendosme; more they scarce could say,  
But when they had breathe they'd cry, Phi-lo-so-pher.  Du. 
Who does she play this modest game withal?  Const. 
With one whose Sport you dare not spoil,  
The Dauphin.  Du. 
Oh! It is so: This Woman has been false,  
To get a Crown:— Oh!—  Const. 
Are you pained? Be comforted.  
You quickly shall have ease, for know your death  
Is plotted by 'em both.  Du. 
My Death!  Const. 
Your Death.  
I'm ruined cause I know all their Designs:  
For now Court secrets are like Fairy's Revels,  
Or Witches Conventicles; men are spoiled  
With sudden blasts that either tell or see 'em.  
They do not spare their Favourites and Creatures.  
Brisac, once loved both by the King and Dauphin,  
Because he honestly opposed your Murder,  
Is falsely charged with Treason, and tormented  
To make him own it, and name you a party.  Du. 
Can there be wickedness enough in Hell  
To furnish out with truth this horrid Story?  Const. 
I know thy thoughts are calling me a liar.  
Ho! there:  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
My Lord.  Const. 
Open those folding Doors.  The Scene is drawn, and Brisac is shown bloody and asleep. Sleeps he? Ser. 
He's fallen into so deep a sleep,  
His sense is sunk out of the loudest call.  Const. 
I gave him Opium to ease his pains.  
I could not bear to hear his piercing groans.  
Now Sir, I hope you will believe your Eyes.  Du. 
This horrid barbarous sight confounds my soul.  Const. 
Oh! now it works him, I shall fool him finely  [Aside D. 
I'll search the depth of this, though it reach Hell.  [Aside. Wake him. Ser. 
We cannot.  Du. 
Cannot you?  Ser. 
We cannot.  Du. 
Then shut the door, I cannot see him longer.  
I'm strangely moved.  Const. 
What if we went to Prayers,  
And recommend to Heaven the King and Dauphin?  Du. 
To Prayers! To Arms, fit Weapons to revenge us.  
But I am justly served for having th' Impudence  
To put on Virtue in this dirty World.  
And drag the Robes of Angels on a dunghill.  Const. 
Indeed those Robes starve every man that wear 'em.  Du. 
But I did only put 'em on to act in.  Const. 
To act in?  Du. 
Yes, and wrapped myself so cunningly,  
The Devil with all his Flambeaus, could not see me.  Const. 
How? Art thou not what thou pretendest to be,  
A man of Virtue, Loyalty and Honour?  Du. 
The pretty jingling of the Chains of Fools.  Const. 
Ha! Is it so? this is most wonderful!  
I always thought thee a poor Mountaineer,  
That lived on virtue's cold and barren Hill,  
Till all thy blood was froze, and sense benumbed.  Du. 
No, no; my blood is hot, and my pulse beat's,  
As strong as any man's, ring's all the Changes  
Of Love, Ambition, Fury and revenge;  
I'll give myself Revenge, my Country Freedom,  
I will transform my enslaved Nation  
From Mules, and burthen-bearing Beasts, to Men.  
No beast is half so wretched as a Frenchman,  
He always has a Bridle in his mouth,  
And he has nothing but his Bit to champ on.  Const. 
Right: He is forced to give his Meat for Salt.  Du. 
He's flayed and salted.  Const. 
He's a pickled Mandrake,  
An Englishman will eat him for a Salad,  
And pluck him by the roots out of his Trenches.  
When e'er he has a mind, in spite of all  
The pretty Gardning way you now have got,  
Of keeping your Muskmellons from the Wether.  
No wonder the stout English always beat us,  
We squeeze the heart and soul out of our Peasants,  
Then slap the enemy with the empty bags.  Du. 
But now I'll stuff the Peasant's skins with Manhood,  
And break the Chain that links to the King's Throne  
The Nobles, as the Globe is to Jove's Chair.  
I hate dependence on another's will,  
Which changes with the breath of every whisper,  
Just as the Sky and Wether with the Winds.  
Nay with the Winds, as they blow East or West,  
To make his temper pleasant or unpleasant,  
So are our wholesome or unwholesome Days.  Const. 
Nay with his Diet, if his Cook but gives him  
A melancholy Dish; or if his Doctor  
Gives him a Pill shall stir up Choler in him,  
We may perhaps be purged out o'th' Court.  
And then we boast of Destinies and Stars,  
When we are made or spoiled by Quacks and Cooks.  Du. 
Nothing more true; nay we are finely ruled  
Between a wild young Prince, and dull old King.  Const. 
A Royal Image, and brave fiery Spirits,  
Do only burn like waxed Tapers round him,  
As if it was the Funeral of the Kingdom;  
Rather like Lamps i'th' Urn of a dead Kingdom.  Du. 
'Tis dead; for it has long been deadly sick.  Const. 
Oh! surfeited with fulsome Ease and Wealth,  
Our Luscious hours are candied up for Women,  
Whilst our Men lose their appetite to Glory.  
Our Pilots all their skill, for want' o Storms.  Du. 
The Kingdom's Dead, or in a Lethargy;  
I'll try, and lance it now about the Head.  Const. 
The King!  Du. 
The King.  Const. 
Thou art a wicked fellow,  
Where didst thou get this wickedness, and when?  Du. 
I got it that brave night when you got me,  
You made me wicked in my Mother's womb,  
And I have trebly improved your natural Stock.  
I set my foot firm on the present World,  
Nor like a Boy skipping between two Ships,  
Slip down between 'em and so lose 'em both;  
But here I stow my Fortunes, and I cast  
All goodness overboard as so much Lumber.  
All virtue's as a bunch of useless Keys,  
That will unlock no Doors but those of Heaven,  
Where neither you nor I have any business.  Const. 
Who could believe an Image of a Saint  
Should lodge within it such a nest of Spiders?  
Let me embrace thee, Son, for now I own thee.  
Thou wert not stole from me when thou wert young  
By Priests and Schools, those common Thiefs in Children,  
Who spirit 'em away, and in their rooms  
Send us home Idiots moped with Piety,  
Pinched hourly by that Fairy, called a Conscience,  
And blasted by that Lightning called Religion.  
Now I will own to thee, I have materials  
For a great Change; and now thou show'st Ambition,  
I dare confide in thee.  Du. 
I'd as soon be  
An Eunuch, as a Man without Ambition.  
The lust of Ruling men, does far excel  
The brutish lust of Getting 'em; a Beast  
Can Get his kind, but cannot Govern it.  
Ambition is a Spirit in the world,  
That causes all the Ebbs and Flows of Nations,  
Keeps Mankind sweet by action, without that  
The World would be a filthy settled mud.  Const. 
Most excellent!  Du. 
Have you no Friends, my Lord,  
You could engage?  Const. 
Thousands of all degrees.  
Rebellious Lords denied the Rule of Provinces,  
Damned knavish Statesmen fooled of promised Offices,  
Mutinous Officers denied Commands,  
Proud Clergymen who cannot get promotion  
So much as for their Money; wealthy Fools,  
Who would be Knights or Lords, and are refused.  
And all the discontented Laymen's Wives,  
And all the discontented Churchmen's Wenches,  
And all the Women who fain would be Mistresses  
And lose their Reputations to no purpose:  
All who have yielded to old gouty Statesmen,  
With hopes of Pensions and were fooled of 'em.  Du. 
Most rare Tools all!  Const. 
Most excellent! with thy Aid,  
We shall not need th' assistance of an Angel.  Du. 
An Angel! What assistance can he give us,  
Who spends his time in idleness and songs?  Const. 
He's good for nothing but t' inspire a Fiddler.  Du. 
Yours are the Tools: could you not bring 'em to me.  Const. 
At an hours warning.  Du. 
Pray, my Lord.  Const. 
I will.  Du. 
And I will bring a Guard and seize 'em all.—  [Aside. 
So, now I've opened all the filthy Vault,  
And let out such foul air has madt me sick.  
But yet within this Vault I find a Lamp  
Of joyful hope, Lovize is not false,  
But wronged by flying rumours, which like Birds  
Soaring at random, mute on any head.  
'Tis plain, my Father turns the Stream of Rumour  
Towards her, to carry me along to Treason.  
I'll beg my Father's Life, but I'll secure him  
From hurting of the King.—  [Aside.] 
Farewell, my Lord.  Const. 
Farewell, dear Son!  Exit Duke. Enter Lafoy Force. La For. 
What news? What good Success?  Const. 
I've fooled him admirably.  
Oh! I have put such crabbed stuff into him  
Has curdled the milksop. Well, I have promised him  
That you and all our Friends shall talk with him.  La For. 
We will.  Const. 
I'll call you suddenly.  La For. 
I'll wait you.—  Exeunt. Enter Lovize. Lou. 
I've seen the wicked, perjured, charming Vendosme;  
Have viewed him o'er and o'er, and heard him talk.  
Heaven has not blasted one of all his Graces.  
His Tongue has all the harmony it had,  
When Ears, and Hearts, and all the gates of Souls  
Flew open at the sound; still, still, his words  
Resemble (as they did) the heavenly Manna,  
Feasting all Ears with what they most delighted.  Enter La Guard. La Gu. 
Madam I've spied the Duke watching the Dauphin,  
They are both coming hither.  Lou. 
Then draws near  
The time of our most terrible encounter.  
Come to my aid my Honour, give me vigour,  
If Love approach me, let me throw it off  
With all the strength a Woman in Convulsions  
Will do an Infant. Let me dash its brains out.  
And to begin the Battle, I'll receive  
The Dauphin in his sight with doting fondness.  Enter the Dauphin followed at a distance by the Duke of Vendosme. Du. 
I've followed him with trembling steps unseen,  
Fearing he leads me to the fair Inchantress.  
My fears deceive me, or I heard him name her.  
Oh! If he leads me to her, Heaven govern me.  
'Tis so! 'Tis She! they meet, embrace, and kiss.  
Devil lose my hand, thrust it not to my Sword.  Daup. 
Love, I must tell thee news, Vendosme is come;  
That fortunate proud slave; but I am going  
To take his Pride from him, and tumble him  
With that great Knave, his Father, in the dirt.  Exit. Du. 
Hark! hark! My death is plotted by 'em both.  
All true my Father told me!— Nay your Lover  
May take my pride from me, for he has taken  
My shame from me, the falsest Woman living.  Lou. 
You here?  Du. 
Yes, I am here.  Lou. 
Dare you approach me?  Du. 
Yes, but with fear, for sure you are not a Woman.  
A Comet glittered in the Air of late,  
And kept some weeks the frighted Kingdom waking,  
Long hair it had, like you, a shining aspect;  
Its beauty pleased at the same time it frighted,  
And every Horror in it had a Grace.  
It has not now appeared these several Months.  
Are you that Comet? Some Astrologers  
Say Sun, and Moon, and Stars, are living Creatures  
That feed on Vapours, are you come below  
To feast upon the reek of smoking hearts,  
Burnt by yourself in that inflaming shape?  Lou. 
I understand you not.  Du. 
Sure some ill Spirit  
Assumes the shape of the Divine Lovize;  
And yet methinks a Daemon used to darkness  
Should not be able to approach such Light.  
May I have leave to touch that beauteous hand,  
Only to know if it be flesh and blood.  Lou. 
If you would know, go ask your Prince the Dauphin.  Du. 
What? are you ashamed to show it, it has lost  
Its native pureness, and is forced to borrow  
Whiteness from Royal Ermine, and Crown Lilies.  Lou. 
All this is dark.  Du. 
I'll bring you to the Light.  
This pack o'hounds, we call our Passions,  
Shall hunt your falsehood, and where  it Earth's itself  
I'll dig it out, and bring it to the day.  
But if you'll take it in your Arms, and kiss it,  
And say 'tis yours, 'tis like you, I am satisfied.  Lou. 
My Lord, I loved you once, still love your merit;  
But I, like Heaven, save none for humane excellence.  
Were you the greatest man that ere was born,  
Yet if you fond worship gaudy Idols,  
And will have no belief in me, away with you  
To your supposed Elizium's, idle dreams.  Du. 
What do you call adoring gaudy Idols?  
To gaze on 'em?  Lou. 
To gaze on 'em with pleasure.  
Who worships me, must speak, and look, and think,  
According to my Rules; and if they seem  
Too hard to practise, let him take his Course,  
I will not give my Heaven to Libertines.  Du. 
But what if she I gazed on was your Image?  
Is it Idolatry t' adore your Image?  Lou. 
Yes, without leave. But you adore another  
Only as my Image, and blaspheme th'original.  Du. 
I blaspheme you?  Lou. 
You know what you have done.  Du. 
Yes, I once vowed my heart to you for ever▪  Lou. 
That is not all.  Du. 
What else?  Lou. 
I scorn to think of it.  Du. 
You blush.  Lou. 
Nay, you would have me die, no doubt.  
You are enraged, after your cruel usage,  
To find me living; living Gloriously.  Du. 
If you were in your Grave,  
You were more Glorious  
Than in your Gild, there is no shame in death.  Lou. 
Yes, but there is much shame in death for Love;  
A Woman die for love! Oh! infamous!  
I hate to see't, so much as in a Play,  
And think such Plays are Libels to our Sex.  
I laugh when I see Ladies weeping at 'em;  
Weep till they quite disorder their doux yeux;  
Weep till their Tears wash away all their Paint.  
I would not have that Woman saved, should shame  
Our Sex by dying so immodestly.  
Indeed 'tis never done, or if it be  
'Tis never owned; the very waiting Women,  
When their hearts break, do scorn to have it known.  
And their Friends never put it in the Bill.  
What think's your Grace? Am I in any danger?  
Do I look pale at all?  Du. 
No, Heaven be thanked:  
Your Highness, Madam, looks exceeding well.  
Alas! you are in th' Climate which agrees with you,  
The scorching clime of Glory; But methinks  
The heat might put some Blushes in your Cheeks.  Lou. 
No, Heaven forbidden!  
I would by no means have it.  
Did secret love devour me, I'd not more  
Disclose my torment, than the Spartan Boy  
Did, whilst the hidden Fox gnawed all his entrails.  
But Love's a fire, and if it burns within  
'Twill smoke without; do you see any smoke?  
Or in my looks one sign of inward Torment?  Du. 
Not the least, Madam.  Lou. 
I am very glad of it.  
My looks are honest then, and tell no falsehoods.  Du. 
I wish your Heart were but as faultless, Madam,  
As your looks are.  Lou. 
My Heart will serve my turn.  Du. 
Yes, it has served your turn, for it has turned  
And turned, and turned, but always to the Sun.  Lou. 
Think and report it too, rather I had  
A thousand times be thought ambitious, perjured,  
Than such a wretch as a forsaken Woman.  Du. 
Madam, I'll do you right.  Lou. 
You will oblige me,  
And yourself too, never to see me more;  
For I shall ever vex your haughty heart.  Du. 
Well, Madam, I will make a shift to bear it;  
But you by this, give me to understand  
I am a Storm that trouble your Delights,  
You cannot sing your Songs to your new Lover,  
With such a Thorn as I am at your Breast.  Lou. 
Oh! you conjecture wrong, my Lord.  Du. 
No, Madam.  
Well, I will leave you; my tempestuous Breath  
Shall not ruffle your Bridal Curtains.  Lou. 
Oh! you cannot;  
Nor blow but one lose Feather from my pillow.  Du. 
Oh! Yes! yes! I will go! but would it not  
Be for your ease to send your Conscience with me?  Lou. 
Your own is heavier than you well can carry.  Du. 
But yours, I fear is murdered; If it be,  
It's Ghost will make your Glories burn as dim  
As Lamps that faint when an ill Spirit appears.  Lou. 
Well, stay or go, I'll not talk with you, of you,  
Look on you, think upon you, any more.—  Enter a Gentleman. Gent. 
Madam, the Dauphin's ask for your Highness.  Lou. 
Oh! e'er I see him, I must pour my grief out,  [Aside. 
For my heart's full, and it is running over.  Exit▪ La Gu. 
So, Now the worst is past.—  Exit. Du. 
Was ever falsehood  
Dressed in such gorgeous swelling Robes of arrogance?  
It is so big, no slender Robes can fit it.  
Now sorrow thou hast found a passage to me,  
All other ways my Soul was inaccessible.  
Fame I contemn, her Temple is a Brothel,  
Where good and bad lie mingled all together.  
Victory I scorn, I am not proud; mankind  
Is capable of Cowardice, and Death.  
Titles I scorn, they are often fixed to Pamphlets.  
Beauty is the only thing that conquer's me,  
I am disarmed by a white brittle Wand,  
Vanquished and robbed of all, and then forsaken.  
Still there's some chink made in us sons of sin,  
For Misery and Death to enter in.  Exit. 
Finis Actus Tertii.   

ACTUS QUARTUS.  Enter the Duke of Vendosme. Duke 
FArewel oh! World, thou School of bearded Boys,  
Here empty Fools are honoured for full Bags,  
And well-filled minds despised for empty pockets;  
Men's eyes are dim, but Woman's blind to excellence.  
This beauteous Woman looked upon my Head  
And saw no Crown on it, and looked no deeper.  
Thus are our Sex by Women oft deceived,  
The Gallant thinks his Mistress sees his Qualities,  
She only sees his Equipage and Garniture.  
Th' hold wooden Lord, sees a young Beauty glance  
He thinks on him; Alas! 'Tis on a toy,  
More wooden than himself, his Coronet.  
The Statesman think's his great parts charm his Mistress,  
She only looks on's great House, his great Train.  
The brave young Hero think's his Mistress value's him,  
Because his Courage can support her Honour;  
'Tis for his Pages to hold up her Tail.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
All things, my Lord, are ready for your Journey.  Du. 
I'm ready then: Now will I seek some place  
Where I may nevermore see any thing  
Like Man or Woman; specially like Woman,  
In some dark Forest will I live, whose Shades  
May guard my Eyes securely from the Moon,  
Because 'tis bright, and changing like a Woman;  
Therefore I'll never see it but in Eclipse.  
Barren shall be the Earth, and so bemumed  
And mortified with shade, not all the Courtship  
Nor golden proffers of the Sun shall woo it,  
Or bribe it to one smile; because if Flattery,  
Riches and Pomp, can gain it, 'tis a Woman.  
I will want breath, e'er let the winds approach me,  
Because they're like th' inconstant sight of Woman.  
I never will see Summers vanishing dew,  
Nor Winters shining Ice, 'cause both, like Woman.  
The Dew turns Air when once the Sun has kissed it.  
And Woman in enjoyment proves Delusion,  
Something less real than the dreams of fancy.  
The Ice dissolves under the Sun's bright smiles.  
And Woman always yields when glory tempt's,  
And then what e'er is built upon her sinks.  Enter a Servant. Ser. 
Monsieur La Marre, my Lord, attends without.  Du. 
La Marre? What has that Fool to do with me?  Ser. 
He says he has a Message from the King.  Du. 
He lies, the King would send a wiser Messenger;  
But since he use's the King's Name, admit him.  Seru. goes out and introudces La Marre. La Ma. 
Now I'll establish a firm Interest in him.  [Aside. 
Your Grace's most obedient humble Servant,  
I am extremely joyful for your Grace's  
Glorious suceess; your Grace has done strange Marvels;  
His Majesty has a very vast esteem for you,  
He and I have talked of you a thousand times.  Du. 
I thank you, Sir; Well, to be short, good Sir,  
Have you any business with me?  La Ma. 
To be short,  
There is no person in the World, my Lord,  
More in esteem both with the King and Dauphin,  
And for my own part.  Du. 
For your part, I mean, Sir,  
Have you any business with me?  La M 
Business, my Lord!  
Only that I'm your Grace's humble servant;  
And so forth, and to pay my high respects,  
And so forth, and so forth— I know your Grace  
Has heard the great Court news, the Dauphin's Marriage  
With Madamoiselle de Guise is now made public.  
Truth is, she is a very curious creature.  
Devil take me if she be not.  Du. 
Now I find it.  
This senseless Rogue is put on to abuse me.  La Ma. 
What think's your Grace?  
Would not so sweet a Creature  
Refresh you finely after a Campagne?  
In short, there will be a great Ball to night,  
The King, the Dauphin, and his beauteous Bride,  
Do all expect your Grace to be a Dancer.  Du. 
Plain, plain abuse! Sir, When was I a Dancer?  
My foot shall dance upon no Earth but this.  Kicks him. La Ma. 
How? Kick, my Lord?  
What do you mean by this?  Du. 
You are put on by some to abuse me, Sirrah.  La Ma. 
You are put on by some to abuse me rather:  
My Lord, I do not understand the meaning of it;  
I shall not put up this.—  Offers to Draw. Du. 
Shall you not, Sir?  The Duke offers to draw. La Marre puts up. La M. 
I shall at present, but the King shall know this.  
I am more considerable with the King  
Than you believe.  Du. 
Indeed there are in Court  
Too many such soft Heads as yours embroidered,  
And made State-Cushions, for great men to lean on;  
And Fortune often jump's from Heaven upon 'em.  La M. 
Soft Heads, and Cushions!  
Come, my Lord, be it known to you  
His Majesty's Servants are not to be called  
Fools and Soft-heads, by e'er a Peer of you all.  
The King shall know this; He'll not take it well.  
All this is, cause I did affront his Father,  
I'll do his Father's business for this trick.—  Exit. Du. 
I find all Courts, are apt, like all great Mountains,  
To breed such little ; and these Runts  
Do often draw weighty Affairs along.  
But oh! the Insolence of this Vile Woman,  
To set her fools upon me, to abuse me?  
Oh! there is Thunder forming in my Soul,  
Now should I meet my Father and his Firebrands,  
Off should I go, and rend the Court in pieces.  
He said, he'd bring me hither his Conspirators,  
I'll run for fear the strong Temptation seize me.  Exit. The Scene is drawn, the Dauphin and Lovize are sat in State, and entertained with Music and Dancing. The Entertainment ended, Enter the Duke, He seas the Dauphin Caressing Lovize. 

A SONG.  

1.  
LOng, long had great Amintor lain,  
At Celia's feet, and wept in vain;  
Not all his Youth, his Love, or Glory,  
But once could make her hear his Story.  
One smile she to that Youth denied,  
For whom a thousand Beauties died. Chor.  
Yet all the while fair Celia proved,  
So haughty, so cruel, she secretly Loved.   

2.  
Still, still he bravely bore his Pain,  
With Patience took her proud Disdain,  
Though all her Looks with Wounds did fill him,  
And every Word did almost kill him,  
To see her, or to hear her Speak.  
He was content his Heart should break. Chor.  
Yet all the while fair Celia proved,  
So haughty, so cruel, she secretly Loved.   

3.  
But beautiful Celia now fearing,  
His Heart should grow hard with long bearing;  
Not willing to Lose him,  
Does gentlier Use him,  
And drives away all his Despairing.  
Oh now, brave Amintor, no Pity afford,  
Thou hast got her by Storm, now put all to th' Sword;  
To the Altar of Modesty, if she would fly,  
It is but an Image, and there let her die.   

4.  
Now Celia for Pity is crying;  
But oh! the Delight of that Dying!  
Her Soul cannot show it,  
Her soul does not know it,  
Her Soul in a Rapture is flying.  
Love, like the Great Turk, in his Pleasures does sport,  
With Mutes, in the innermost parts of his Court;  
He drives the dull Counsellor, Thinking, away,  
And himself and his Mutes, out o' Breath he does play.    Du. 
Oh! What infernal Spirit brought me hither?  
I am decreed for Wickedness; I shall  
Destroy that Prince, in spite of all that poor  
Court Householdstuff, that Imagery about him.  Daup. 
Ha! Vendosme there? Leave me a while, my Love.  Lou. 
I will, but I will watch you do not hurt him.  [Aside. 
For still I love him, spite of all his falsehood.  Exit. Du. 
He's coming! My Heart swells, that my Ribs bend  
Like Bows of Steel, ready to shoot my Soul at him.  Daup. 
Sir, you have long sored o'er my head, but now  
I'll bring you down; Where is your Commission?  Du. 
How? My Commission? Where it shall remain  
Till the King takes it; Sir, in my own keeping.  Daup. 
How? Shall?  Dauphin putteth his Hand to his Sword. Enter Lovize. Lou. 
Oh! hold, my Lord?  Daup. 
What dost thou mean?  Lou. 
Oh! to hurt him will pierce your Father's heart;  
I beg you then, upon my knees, be calm.  Da. 
What Storm so rude, which such a beauteous Halcyon  
Cannot soon calm? Traitor, this Angel here  
Has given thee life; But know, thou art preserved  
To perish with thy Father on a Scaffold.  Exit. Lou. 
I'll save him too from that, or perish with him  [Aside. Exit. Du. 
Now a brave Fool, that had more Blood than Brains,  
Whose soul lay in his Arm, not in his Head,  
And had my Wrongs, and my Power to revenge 'em,  
Would thrust his foolish Arm to reach Revenge,  
Though he pulled all the Kingdom on his Head;  
He would accept the March, the Devil offers me  
Instead of my lost Mistress, his own Daughter,  
The Heiress of all Hell, Rebellion;  
I, the next minute, could confound the Town  
Into a Temple o' Death, and marry her in it;  
And with her, get the Riches of all France.  
And Hell has sent to Treat about the Match.  
His Kindred, cursed Passions to my Heart  
Here come his Agents on the same Affair.  
Mountain on Mountain, piled to scale my Honesty.  Enter the Great Constable, La Force, and Conspirators. Const. 
Son! Here are all our Friends.  Duk. 
Away with you,  
You scare my Loyalty out of its Wits.  Const. 
Thy Loyalty? Thou art afraid, I see;  
These are the honest Friends I told thee off.  Duk. 
You mean the Traitors.  Const. 
How?  Duk. 
Yes, such you promised me,  
And I give Men and Things their proper Names.  
Scuffle for the World then how you will, you Traitors,  
There was but one sweet Spot in it I valued,  
And it is sunk beneath me; all the rest  
Take he that will, and how, I do not care.  
Go turn the Globe about then how you will,  
There shall be in this wide World, one honest Man,  
Though he has much a do to keep his Honesty.  Const. 
Hold, Sir, come back again.  Duk. 
No, I have said.  Const. 
Thy thoughts?  Duk. 
My thoughts.  Const. 
And art thou such a Fool?  
What dost thou in a Court, or in the World?  
Go be a Monk, in hope of being Sainted,  
Give Friars all thy Gold, in the rich hopes  
When thou art dead, they'll tip thy Scull with Silver;  
Stink all thy Life, to be adored when Dead,  
And have thy rotten Bones to Cure lame Legs.  Du. 
Do you go join your plotting Heads and lose'em.  Ex. La For. 
Is this your fooling him so admirably?  
How chance we let him go, and did not kill him?  
Graves have no Echoes, Sculls want Cover  
Of Flesh and Blood, but hid a Secret better.  Const. 
I'll Kill him with more pleasure than I Got him.  
I Got him? I never got him, he's a Bastard;  
No Honesty could ever spring from me.  1. Consp. 
Curse on his Piety.  Const. 
Some Priest begot him,  
Lay with his Mother when she slept at Prayers,  
That makes the World appear a Dream to him.  La For. 
The Mother is the chief Ingredient in him.  Const. 
I ought not to get Children of a Woman,  
I ought to mix with nothing but a Chaos,  
And get Confusion to the Universe,  
And then the Children would be like the Father.  La For. 
I never approved trusting so rank a Secret  
To such a tender Mind; I knew it would gripe him  
His Conscience would have Qualm's.  Const. 
Ay, there's the thing!  
We breed our Child's Minds as tenderly  
And Womanish as their Bodies; he who means  
To have a gallant Son, must plunge his Soul  
O'er head and ears betimes in Wickedness,  
Then when he is a Man 'twill be his Element.  
He must not let him go wrapped warm in Silk  
Spun from the silly Worms in a Priest's Head,  
But go stark naked, then he'll feel no cold.  
For Conscience is but the Soul's outward Skin  
Use it to Nakedness, it feels no Wether,  
Use it to Labour, and it never Blisters.  
If I had used this Fool to sin, I might  
Have lodged my Treason in his brawny Head  
As safe as Poison in an Asse's Hoof.  La For. 
But now it cracks his crystal Wit, and spills.  
I hate these crystal Wits, they are good for nothing  
But to make flattering Looking-glasses for Ladies.  Const. 
He says he'll keep his honesty; damned Sot!  
What will he do with it? Go beg with it?  
For in this Age 'tis of no other use,  
But like a Beggar's Child, to move Compassion,  
Yet never gains the half it cost in keeping,  
For all Men will suspect it for a Bastard.  Enter an Officer with a Guard. Off. and the Gua. 
Resign yourselves my Lords;  
You are my Prisoners.  Const. 
How Sir? Your Prisoners?  Off. 
Your own Son, my Lord,  
Charges you with High Treason against the King,  
And bloody cruelties to Count Brisac.  Const. 
Oh! cursed Villain!  La For. 
Villains both of you.  1. Consp. 
You are, you have betrayed us all.  
All Betrayed.  2. Consp. 
A trick to ruin us, and beg our Fortune  Const. 
Ha! ha'! ha'!  [Laughs. La For. 
How! Are you laughing at us?  Const. 
Yes; I am.  1. Consp. 
You did design we should be seized then?  Const. 
Yes.  
And I laugh hearty to see you all Sigh,  
As you were bottling up Air in your Bellies  
To serve you when your Wind-pipes are corked up.  
But come poor Men, be comforted, all's well.  
I rammed this Fool up to the mouth with Treason,  
Not to hurt us, but to break him in Pieces.  Enter the King, Duke, Guard. K. 
So Sir, Your Son informs me excellent things of you.  Const. 
Art thou, unnatural Monster, my Accuser?  Duk. 
I am; The secrets tore out of my Breast  
And broke all Barrs of Nature.  Const. 
Oh! vile Wretch!  
Seek to destroy his Being, who gave thee thine?  Du. 
What greater Curse than Being could you give me,  
With all the Plagues your sins entail upon it.  
You spent your own and all my sins beforehand  
And mortgaged me to Hell before you got me,  
For more than I was worth.  Const. 
Thou makest me mad!  Du. 
Ambition makes you so.  
If I had that disease, I'd have my Head  
Trepaned, to let out all the windy Vapours,  
Rather than swell so big, till my Brains crack.  Enter the Dauphin, La Marre, and Train. Daup. 
Where's the Constable? bold daring Traitor!  
And hast thou dared to wrack the Man I loved,  
For whose least hair I took thy Head in pawn?  
Know I will have thee broken on the Wheel,  
If thou hast dared only to break his sleep.  Const. 
I am contented.  K. 
Why! Is he not hurt?  Const. 
Not that I know of.  K. 
Did not you inform me,  
You saw him newly taken from the Wrack?  Du. 
I did.  Const. 
You did; than it was you that wracked him.  
If so, Sir, you have served me a fine trick,  
To torture him and put it upon me.  K. 
But, Sir, he says you put it upon me,  
And sought by that to tempt him into Treason.  Const. 
I never tempted him nor talked with him.  
I scarce have seen him since he came to Court.  K. 
I am amazed!  Daup. 
What jugling's here between you?  D. 
I'm half afraid he has put some trick upon me.  [Aside. Const. 
You see he's silent, Sir, he knows not what  
To say, nor I to think. Well, I've observed  
These damned half witted and half honest fellows,  
Like Africa, have things of different kind  
Meet and engender, and get monsters in 'em.  
Their wit and folly couple, and get nonsense,  
With a strange face of sense; their knavery and honesty.  
Beget a Devil with an honest look,  
And such a Monster is this fellow's lie.  
Or else perhap's he is a downright Traitor,  
And is a partner in Brisac's Conspiracy,  
And he would make my Blood the Aqua fortis  
To eat his partner's Prison bars asunder.  
I believe that.  Daup. 
Come, you are Villain's both.  La Ma. 
an'nt please your Highness, you have hit upon it.  
The Duke of Vendosme affronted me this morning  
Only because I mentioned you with honour;  
I told him I would find a time to tell you.  K. 
Who bids you meddle? give away that fellows  
Employment presently.  La Ma. 
Give away my Employment?  K. 
Be gone, Sir,  La Ma. 
Sir it cost me five years' purchase.  K. 
Be gone, Sir.  La Ma. 
Sir, I have had no salary  
Since I came in it.  1. Courtier. 
Stand prating to the King?  
Out of the presence.  La Ma. 
Sir, I've paid for prating.  Court. 
Well, if you have, Sir, go prate somewhere else.  La Ma. 
Here's a fine business, turned away for Loyalty.  
Well, I will be revenged upon the Court.  
I know some Malcontents that I will stick to.  Const. 
Now, to conclude the strife, open those doors.  The Scene is drawn, and Brisac is sitting dressed, awake, and well. Du. 
This sight, or th'other was a strange Delusion,  Const. 
Witchcraft, you know I traffic with the Devil.  Dau. 
I am amazed at this! How does Brisac?  
Vendosme reported that his Father wracked thee.  Brisac. 
He threatened me indeed, but durst not do it.  Daup. 
Some damned design was forged between 'em both;  
I'll trust thee to him no longer.  K. 
I'm convinced:  
You tamperd with your Son, and put some trick on him.  Const. 
So, I am still judged guilty, though my Innocence  
Has passed the Ordeal of the burning noon;  
Has trod the Light unscorched!— Oh! equal do.  Daup. 
If thou be'st innocent, thy Son's a Cannibal,  
Who feeds his Greatness with his Father's flesh;  
And to the horrid feast, invites the King,  
'Tis so! 'tis so! the Monster, Sir, abuses you,  
He giveth you Philters in his Father's Skull,  
And you drink down the damned bewitching draught.  
Throw it up again, if you will keep your Crown.  K. 
I'll keep my Crown, and therefore I will keep  
Him who protects my Crown from thy Ambition.  
Come in, I guess the meaning of this Riddle.  The King goes out leading the Duke. Const. 
Not all this do?  [Aside. Daup. 
And shall this potent slave  
Still rule the King, and trample upon me?  
I'll make his Father ruin him. [Aside.] My Lord,  
I find you were misrepresented to me.  Const. 
I'm glad you find it, Sir, your noble Youth  
Has not yet played enough with the World's Tennis Ball,  
To know its cursed Tricks.  Daup. 
I am convinced,  
Your Son's the Villain, that I thought you were.  Const. 
I'm now convinced of it to my great sorrow.  Daup. 
He blackens you, to make himself seem bright.  Const. 
And, Sir, 'twas he that blackened you to me.  Daup. 
Oh! Villain!  Const. 
Now I find his tricks; He secretly  
Puts Pirates Colours out at both our Sterns,  
That we might fight each other in mistake,  
Then he should share the Ruins of us both!  Daup. 
I will remove him.  Const. 
Oh! By all means, Sir.  Da. 
My Father's Old, What then? Age like a Caterpillar  
Will crawl upon the Leaves of a young Tree  
Till it has eaten away all its Beauty;  
And I'll not waste my golden youth in Bondage,  
To a proud slave.  Const. 
'Twere better he were damned.  
Had I more Sons, than would Eclipse the Sun,  
I'd kill 'em all, if they stood in your Light.  Daup. 
That's nobly said.  Const. 
I'll do as well; the King  
Shall send this slave  night to the Bastile.  Daup. 
Do this, and you and I will share the Kingdom.  Const. 
Sir, let me share your Heart, that's all I ask.  Daup. 
You shall have that, and all that France can give.  The Constable kisses the Dauphin's hand, The Dauphin Embraces him. Enter Courtiers. 1. Court. 
How's this? he's great again! he's wound himself  
Into the Dauphin's Favour, who abhorred him.  2. Court. 
Who ever thought this had been possible?  3. Cou. 
Nothing's impossible to this damned Constable.  [Aside 1. Cou. 
He'll be more absolute than e'er he was.—  [Aside. 
Well I will be the first shall strike in with him.  
Gentlemen, I'm glad to see this sight.  
The Constable's a man of excellent parts.  
Devil take his parts, and him—  [Aside 2. Cou. 
Oh! most rare parts.  
Pox on his parts. He'll stick on all our skirts.  Daup. 
My Lord, from this time forward I'm your Friend.  Const. 
And I your Highness' most faithful slave.  Bris. 
Sir, Are you in earnest with him?  Daup. 
Ask no Questions.  Ex. Daup. Brisac. The Courtiers run all and salute the Constable. All. 
My Lord! my Lord.  Const. 
Oh! now the Flies come buzzing!  All. 
My Lord, your Grace's humble servant.  Const. 
Buzz!  All. 
My Lord! my Lord!  Const. 
Nay Gentlemen, start fair,  
Don't think you are in a progress; carve me handsomely.  1. Cou. 
My Lord, believe me, I'm your Grace's servant.  Const. 
I know it, Sir.  1. Cou. 
I am indeed, my Lord.  Const. 
I'll take my Oath on't.  2. Cou. 
My Lord, I honour your Grace most particularly.  Const. 
Particular Coxcomb.  3. Cou. 
Oh! my Lord, I honour you,  
And ever did with all my heart and soul.  Const. 
Sir, You and I have but one Soul between us.  3. Cou. 
Nay! I beseech you.  Const. 
Pylades and Orestes.  1. Cou. 
Your Grace is pleasant.  Const. 
Oh! your Worship's Jester.  2. Cou. 
Damn him, he laughs at's all!  
I'll scrape no more to him.  Const. 
Out! out you silly Rascals, do you hope  
To sell your Legs, and Bows, and Nods to me?  
Were but your Legs as rotten as your Hearts,  
I'd pull 'em off, and beat you about the heads with 'em,  
For thinking you could pawme such stuff on me.  All. 
What? what?  Const. 
Out! out! I say, you Flies! you Maggots.  He thrust's 'em out. 
This Greatness is a perfect Holland Cheese,  
Pour Wine into't, and it breeds Maggots presently.  
The Dauphin only poured some smiles into me,  
And see how soon the Maggots crawl about me.  
Well, han't I brought you off?  All. 
To Admiration.  La For. 
Now I shall dare to trust my Fortunes with you, once more.  Const. 
How, trust your Fortunes! you may venture  
To have your Heads cut off, if I advise you,  
For I have tricks to put 'em on again,  
And put 'em on better than e'er they were.  La For. 
I had rather keep mine on just as it is.  Const. 
Now I will tell you how I fooled my Son.  
I cast Brisac into deep sleep with Opium,  
Then showed him as if taken from the Wrack,  
Thinking that way to fool him: if I could not;  
I laid a Trap for him to fool himself.  
So every way I rid the Mule, and made him  
Carry me up the Alps of my Designs.  
I'm now about a Plot shall take effect;  
You'll see th'event with speed.  La For. 
Farewell till then.  Exit La Force and Conspirators. Const. 
Now to my Work, here comes my Instrument.  Enter La Guard. La Gua. 
My Conscience! Conscience!  Const. 
Now what ails your Conscience?  
These little Souls wear great long proking Consciences,  
That make 'em stumble every step they go.  
Away with thy fool's bauble of a Conscience,  
A Hornbook is not so ridiculous;  
Thy Mother tied it to thee in thy Childhood,  
And thou art such an Ass to wear it still.  
Away with it, and do me one more kindness.  La Gua. 
I'll do you no more kindnesses.  Const. 
You shall.  
Do not refuse me, for fear I use you scurvily.  La Gua. 
What dare you do?  Const. 
Do not you dare to trust.  
You I have fast; your Lover is my slave,  
And he shall to the Galleys.  La Gua. 
To the Galleys!  Const. 
What, to prevent me, you'll complain perhaps  
How ill I use persons of Quality,  
A noble Knight, and Lady of the post.  La Gua. 
Of your own dubbing.  Const. 
Who are very dextrous  
At any knavery, and to keep your Lover  
You'll have his Ears nailed to the Pillory.  La Gu. 
Oh! base! base man! Now dare not I refuse him.  
Well, What is this sweet business I must do?  Const. 
To bring the Princess and my Son together,  
And when in talk their Spirits begin to mount,  
And get a prospect of the treachery,  
Confess it all, and lay it on the Dauphin.  La Gua. 
And what if your Son kills me?  Const. 
How? He kill thee?  
Ah! poor tame fool, he will not kill a Flea.  La Gua. 
Nay, he is not so bloody a man as you are.  Const. 
Well, let him be as bloody as he will,  
I'll guard thee safely: take thy Lover then  
And fly whither you will, I'll yearly give you  
A Pension shall maintain you in such Equipage,  
That go to England, and thy Love shall pass  
For a French Count, thou for a French Countess.  
See my Son comes, go fetch the Princess presently.  La Gu. 
Well, this shall be the last foul trick I'll play. Ex.  Enter the Duke of Vendosme. Du. 
I'll go! I'll go! Farewell my Fortunes, Honours,  
Successes, Glories, Power▪ gaudy Rags,  
Which all together▪ make up one fine Baby.  
I'll fling the Rags and Tinsel to the Winds,  
And let Chance pick 'em up, and give 'em Fools.  
Let pride and vanity give Woman's hearts  
To whom they will; let Destiny give Crowns,  
Let England now belch fire and overwhelm France;  
Let Old Time mix the Nations in his Cup  
To please his Palate, and then drink 'em off;  
Let Tyrants pour down Rivers of Men's blood,  
To grind the World; all this shall never reach  
My care or thoughts, and when I once am got  
Into the still and silent room's of Death,  
Not all the coil and rumbling skuffling Nations  
Can keep over my Head, will e'er wake me.  Enter Lovize weeping. La Guard. 
See! here! the beauteous cause of my destruction,  
And weeping! Oh! I have observed though Pride  
Endeavours to fill up her Robe of Glory,  
It draggs in sorrow, and it does not fit her.  
Madam.  Lou. 
He here?  Du. 
Nay, do not fly me, Madam.  Lou. 
Have I not told you my firm Resolutions?  Du. 
Madam you have, but you can change your mind.  Lo. 
You come with hopes to vex me with new upbraid.  Du. 
I come to please you, with acquainting you  
I'm going to free you from this wretch for ever.  Lo. 
Or go, or stay, I am indifferent.  Du. 
Pardon me if I think you are not indifferent.  
I've peeped on the Inside of your Marriage Chain,  
And find it Gold but slightly lined with Love.  
Yes, you have given yourself to Pomp, not Love:  
To the King's Son, not to the youthful Bridegroom;  
You hug not him, but Pharamont and Pippin,  
You have married Titles, Crowds, and Noise, and Forms,  
And now the Lumber hurts you, makes you weep.  Lo. 
I am contented you believe all this.  Du. 
Well, Madam, Heaven pardon you my ruin.  
My Life has streamed o'er Fortune's richest Mines,  
But ne'er did taste of any thing but Love,  
And that sole sweetness, you make bitter to me.  Lo. 
Oh! this is full of Art, twisting the mind  
The wrong side outward break's no bones, I see.  Du. 
Madam, I'm well assured, you will not send  
One poor thought after me, much less a Messenger,  
To know the truth, but if you do, he'll find  
In some unfinished part of the Creation,  
Where Night and Chaos never were disturbed,  
And now grown old, are uglier than ever,  
And bedrid, lie, in some dark rocky desert,  
There will he find a thing, whether a Man,  
Or the collected shadows of the Desert,  
condensed into a shape, he'll hardly know;  
This Figure he will find walking alone,  
Poring one while on some sad Book, at noon,  
By Taper-light, for never day shone there.  
Sometimes laid grovelling on the barren earth,  
Moist with his Tears, for never Dew fell there.  
And when Night comes, not known from Day by darkness,  
But by some faithful Messenger of Time,  
He'll find him stretched upon a bed of stone,  
Cut from the bowels of some rocky Cave,  
Offa ring himself either to Sleep or Death,  
And neither will accept the dismal Wretch.  
At length a slumber in its infant Arms,  
Takes up his heavy foul, but wanting strength  
To bear it, quickly lets it fall again,  
At which the Wretch starts up, and walks about  
All night, and all the time it should be day,  
Till quite forgetting, quite forgot of every thing  
But sorrow, pines away, and in small time,  
Of th' only man that durst inhabit there,  
becomes the only Ghost that dares walk there.  
For Ghosts turn paler when they look that way,  
Thus never end's his grief, but now ends yours.  Offers to go. Lou. 
Oh! stay, my Lord! What do you mean by this?  
Must not you blame yourself for all the sorrows  
Which we both suffer? Had not you first thrown  
Contempt on me, I would have been your Wife,  
Have been your Wife? have rather been a Tree  
On which your Name was carved, than Queen of France.  Du. 
How I throw scorn on you?  Lou. 
Rude, Public scorn;  
Your Army is my Witness, your own Hand,  
I have it under your own Hand and Seal,  
You scorned my Love, and begged release of Vows.  Du▪ 
Oh! now Hell yawn's, and Treachery appears  La Gu. 
He'll kill me.  The Constable appears between▪ the Scenes, and stops La Guard who is running out. Const. 
I'll protect thee.  La Gu. 
I'll be gone.  Const. 
I'll kill thee then.  La Gu. 
I'm in a fine condition.  Du. 
I writ these things! If this right Arm were rotting,  
And but to write such things would charm it sound,  
 I would let it writ, I'd let it rot.  
You know this too, Why would you credit 'em?  
My bosom Friends said you were false, and I  
Abhorred 'em all, as men that had the Plague  
Of Lying and Slandering, broke out upon 'em,  
And I was ready wirh my Sword, to write  
Upon their Bosoms, Lord have mercy on 'em.  Lou. 
Besides a hundred Witnesses, La Guard's  
Acquaintance heard you—  Du. 
Your acquaintance Mistress?  
You are the Witch, I find has raised this storm,  
Assisted by some Devil of your acquaintance.  La Gu. 
Oh!—  Du. 
Tell the Treachery, or I will rip thee,  
And search for it in every vein thou hast.  La Gu. 
Indeed, my Lord, I'm innocent.  Du. 
Thou liest.  
No eyes but thine beheld our secret Loves,  
And none could come behind us but thyself,  
And give us such a deadly deadly fall.  La Gu. 
Oh! Pardon me, and I'll confess.  Du. 
I will.  La Gu. 
Swear.  Du. 
Then I swear.  La Gu. 
The Dauphin then perceiving  
The Princess constant in her love to you,  
Got all those Letters forged, bribed all those Witnesses  
To blast your Interest, and forced me to help him.  Du. 
Enough,— be gone,— had I not sworn to pardon thee  
Yet I must do't, Nature give's man a Sacrament,  
In his own blood, never to hurt a Woman:  
But quickly fly, lest I break both those Oaths.  Con. 
Most excellent Liar! — To La Gu. between the Scenes.  La Gu. 
Excellent Devil you are.  Ex. Du. 
I am decreed, I find, to kill the Dauphin.  Const. 
See, in what season my Stars bring the Daup.  [Aside. Lou. 
Oh!  Lou. 
Weep's, faints, falls into the Duke's Arms;  At that instant the Constable brings in the Dauphin, and shows 'em to him. Daup. 
Ha!  Const. 
Oh! Peace, Sir, let us listen to 'em,  
I left 'em kissing.  Daup. 
Kissing!  Const. 
Kissing close, Sir.  Lou. 
For this I do abhor and loathe the Dauphin.  
I am resolved he ne'er shall touch me more.  Daup. 
Oh! Whore!  Const. 
Pray silence, Sir! For I'd feign have you  
Be fully satisfied.  Lou. 
His Love and Glory  
Were both to me a tasteless Witches Feast,  
They vanish when so  your Name was named,  
Like those Delusions at the name of Heaven.  Dau. 
I've heard enough, I'll feast you, you damned Whom  Du 
The Dauphin.  Dauphin draw's, wound's Lovize, she falls. The Duke draw's, fight's, disarms the Dauphin. Dau. 
Villain! draw upon thy Prince?  
Go call the Guard.  Const. 
Yes, and I'll call the King,  
To let him see the Virtues of his Favourite.  Exit. Daup. 
What! Wilt thou kill me, Traitor?  Du. 
No, I will not.  
The Flowers of Graves, and Moss of Royal Sculls  
Protect your Head.  Daup. 
Bold slave, talk thus imperiously  
To a great Prince.  Du. 
To a great Prince! a Dwarf,  
Whom men would never see, did you not stand  
Upon your Kingly Ancestors high Monuments.  
Oh! Heaven! That I must see that Beauteous Innocence  
Rowl in her Blood, and let her Murderer live,  
'Cause a King got him.  Daup. 
How! that Beauteous Innocence?  
That Whore o' thine, but I ha' cooled her Blood.  Du. 
Oh! He will pull my Sword upon his Breast.  
As he stands in a raging threatening posture,  Enter the King, Constable, Guard. Const. 
Now, you may see, Sir, what a youth this is.  Daup. 
Hold! kill him not, take him alive I charge you.  
Your virtuous man here has abused my Bed,  
And 'cause I have discovered him, would murder me.  Du. 
How we are wronged!  Daup. 
You wronged?  Du. 
Yes, by yourself.  Daup. 
By me? Was ever heard such Impudence?  
Away with him.  Exit, a Guard with the Duke. Const. 
What shall be done with her?  Daup. 
I care not what's done with her, let Dogs eat her.  
Hold, now I think on't, search her for a Picture.  Off. 
Sir, here's a Picture newly fallen from her.  Daup. 
Look here, the Picture of her damned Adulterer.  
This have I seen!— Oh! I'm too mad to talk.  K. 
I'm carried from my Reason with amazement.  
In all this shame, behold, proud boy, the punishment  
Of thy bold disobedience to my Will.  
And now for Vendosme's sake, I'll never Love  
Nor Trust man more.—  Exit. Daup. 
Away with that lewd Woman.  Lovize is carried off. 
And now your Son, since he boast's Innocence,  
I will have wracked, and do you see it done.  Const. 
I see it done!  Daup. 
Ay, Sir, if you expect  
I keep my Promise.  Const. 
If?  Daup. 
Ay! If.  Const. 
If.—  Daup. 
If.—  
I put him upon this to make him odious,  [Aside. 
And then I'll throw him off. I know him for  
A turbulent great Rogue, and I abhor him.  Ex. Const. 
Brought to an If already? I am fooled.  
My Fortunes hung on such a rotten twig.  Enter Lafoy Force. La For. 
Ha! in distraction? What's the matter with you?  Const. 
Oh! If! if! if!  La For. 
What do you mean by If?  Const. 
I am possessed, possessed by Fiends called Tyrants,  
And all my stomach's full of Ropes and Axes;  
Oh! for a lusty draught of lukewarm Blood,  
The Dauphin's blood, to make me throw 'em up.  La For. 
I do not understand you at all.  Const. 
How should you?  
Your Head and mine hang both upon an If.  La For. 
What mean's that If?  Const. 
The Dauphin has deluded me,  
Has made me tumble down my Son, my Pillar.  
Now he's destroying me, and you, and all.—  La For. 
Me!  Const. 
You.  La For. 
The Devil's in your unlucky Friendship.  
I will take horse, and out o' Town this minute.  Const. 
Take Horse, take Arms!  
Go, mount my Son's brave Troops,  
And ride 'em o'er the Heads of these false Tyrants.  La For. 
They are not such Asses to be rid so easily,  
Upon an expedition to the Moon.  Const. 
Oh! take a Tube, and show 'em all a World  
Of Glory in that Moon, and golden Mines there,  
Plundering, and Ravishing; then tell 'em all  
They will be all Cashiered, and without pay,  
Or rather in their General's Coin be paid,  
Be wracked for Traitors, torn to single money.  La For. 
Must he be wracked?  Const. 
By me, his Father.  La For. 
Barbarous!  Const. 
That grieves me not, I'd make no more to kill  
Such a tame Fool, than to spill so much Milk.  La For. 
What, though your Son?  Const. 
Were all mankind my Children,  
I would hang half, to rule the other half.  
My Honours! Honours! grieve me: Go— raise the Army.  
I'm trusted with my Son, and I will tempt him,  
Or force him out to 'em; either will do.  
If he be with 'em, though in close Confinement  
'Twill do, that will be judged a show.— Go! go!  
He pawses— so!— my Whirlpool sucks 'em in.  [Aside. 
He shall be dipped in this, I'll not come near it.  La For. 
He mingles Reason so with all his Knavery,  
None can divide the Ratsbane from the Honey,  
And I shall swallowed, though it rot my Head off.  Const. 
Rot Head and Tail, and every part o' me,  
I had rather lose 'em all in noble strife,  
Than let 'em mouldy in a quiet Life.—  Ex. 
Finis Actus Quarti.   

ACTUS QUINTUS.  A Prison, the Duke. Du. 
WHO looks upon this World, and not beyond it,  
To the abodes it leads to, must believe it  
The bloody Slaughter-house of some Ill Power,  
Rather than the contrivance of a Good one.  
Every thing here breeds misery to man,  
The Sea breeds Storms to sink him. If he flies  
To Shore for Aid, The Shore breeds Rocks to tear him.  
The Earth breeds Briars to rend him, Plants to poison him,  
Beasts of prey to devour him, Trees to hang him;  
Those things that seem his Friends, are False to him:  
The Air that gives him Breath, gives him Infection.  
Meat takes his Health away, and Drink his Reason.  
His Reason is so great a bosom plague to him,  
He never is so pleased as when he's robbed on't  
By Drink or Madness. Reason is an Arrow  
Shot in his Head by Nature, to torment him;  
And he's in pleasure when Wine rott's the Arrow,  
Or the Moon pull's it out. All things conspire  
The misery and death of the World's Tyrant;  
His Cups are mingled with Sweat, Tears, or Poison.  
Pain keeps both Doors of this cursed World, and hands  
The Tyrant in, and dogs him all the way,  
And never leaves him till she thrusts him out.  Enter the Great Constable, Const. 
Get the Wrack ready.  A Wrack, a Table, Light, Pen and Paper. Keeper. 
'Tis ready.  Const. 
Bring my Son out.  Keep. 
Here he is,—  Enter the Duke. Const. 
Go leave me with him.— So, Sir, are you here?  
Now you'll believe my Principles are true.  
Who ever would be virtuous, is a Fool;  
For he endeavours to plant Virtue here  
In a damned world, where it no more will grow▪  
Than Oranges in Lap-land. It is true,  
'Twill peer sometimes a little above ground,  
But never but in dung of poverty;  
And than it smell's so ill, People of Quality  
ne'er take it in their Bosom's.  Du. 
Very well.  Const. 
Nay, the projecting fool that aims at Virtue,  
Is a ridiculous Chemist, that would make  
A virtuous thing out of a Man or Woman,  
Who have not a grain of honesty about 'em;  
And they have some parts can never be made honest.  
Nay, there is no false fellow like your fool.  
Who would be virtuous? for your steady Villain  
Who sticks at nothing, is most true to every thing;  
But your lame fool who halt's between Vice and Virtue,  
Is false to both, and so is true to nothing,  
And so has no Friends in Heaven or Hell,  
And that's the reason he never thrives.  Du. 
Oh! Divine Maxims these!  Const. 
Sir, they are true.  
Perhaps there never were such things as virtue's,  
But only in men's Fancies like the Phoenix.  
Or if they once have been, they're now but Names  
Of Natures lost, which came into the World,  
But could not live nor propagate their kind.  
How should they propagate? Your virtuous fellow  
Is an Hermophradite, he has two Sexes.  
Virtue and Vice, and such a Monster thou art:  
To glory thou art a Girl, but to Woman  
Thou art a vigorous Man! Oh! thou poor sinner!  
To scorn Ambition, the sin of Angels,  
And stoop to be a Goat.  Du. 
This Accusation  
Has no more truth than any of your Maxims.  Const. 
Deny it? You don't know you shall be Wracked?  Du. 
Be Wracked!  Const. 
Be Wracked.  Du. 
You bring a Bed agreeing  
To the fine Lodging you have provided for me.  Const. 
It is a Bed the Dauphin has provided you,  
Where you must lie, till you confess your Crimes,  
Your Treason, and Adultery.  Du. 
Does the Dauphin  
Give his fair murdered Princess this embalming,  
To wrap her up in stinking defamation?  Const. 
Oh! I shall supple your stiff humour.  Du. 
Never.  
You'll sooner carve me into a Toad than Lyar.  Const. 
Will you talk thus upon the Wrack and Scaffold?  Du. 
On both; and more: I will affirm the Dauphin  
Wronged us, and not we him.  Const. 
How?  Du. 
This is Truth.  Const. 
If this be Truth, then am I finely fooled.  Du. 
I know not that, but I am deeply wronged.  Const. 
Then so am I, wronged, fooled, deluded, gulled,  
To drink my own Son's blood hot from his Veins,  
That I may smell most rank to all mankind,  
And have Dogs fly at me where e'er I go.  
Oh! barbarous! made to murder my own Son,  
A Valiant young man, a wise young man,  
An Innocent young man.  Du. 
No more, my Lord.  
There's always some Venom in your Paint,  
You ne'er Guilded any but in hopes to Rot 'em,  
You never Struck a Head, but it Falls off.  Const. 
Is it my Heart, or all the City Trembles?  
Oh! that some Earthquake now would make all Paris,  
Rowel, and o're-lay her Children in their sleep,  
Kill all of 'em but this young man and me.  
What need I wish for Slaughter? there will be  
Enough to night, and let it be for me.  Du. 
What does he mean now? there is in his breast  
A restless, bottomless, black Sea of wickedness,  
And I must dive into't— [Aside] What is your meaning?  Const. 
'tis this; Your Troops, the City, the Nobility,  
Both out of Love to You, and Hate to Tyranny,  
Demand your Life, or clear Proofs of your Crimes,  
Else they resolve to fill up with their Swords  
The Gap your Death will make for Tyranny  
To flow upon 'em; I, who thought you guilty,  
Was cheated by these Tyrants, to come hither  
And Wrack you into a Liar, to save them.  Du. 
Why did I plunge into his Breast, a Sea  [Aside. 
Would make the Devil sick if he flew over it,  
And tumble like a Bird that flies o'er Jordan?  
Oh! how I am confounded?  Const. 
Ha! I see  
Loyalty struggling in thy noble Nature  
For a brave lie to save thy Prince from danger.  
Do what thou wilt, for my part, I'll not counsel thee;  
'Tis true, you would do well to save your Prince,  
For it will breed strange Gangrenes all o'er France,  
To have a Great Man shuffled out of Life,  
They can't tell how to please the Dauphin's envy;  
And yet, methinks, to save him by acknowledging  
Yourself a Villain, and the Princess Whore!  
Oh! out upon't! I'd let the Kingdom perish  
 I would be a Dog to lick its Sores  
With a foul Tongue.  Du. 
Oh! How does he distract me?—  Const. 
I see that Paper draws thy kind Eye towards it,  
Thou hast a mind to be scribbling,— take it.  Gives him Paper. 
But you must write down all the Circumstances,  
How oft, and when, and where, you enjoyed the Princess.  The Duke Tears the Paper. 
Ha! You resolve then rather to be torn,  
And let the King be torn too, like this Paper.  Du. 
Nor that.  Const. 
What then?  Du. 
I will go Head my Troops.  Const. 
Ha! Now thou speakest indeed? Thou art cast anew  
Into the very mettle I would have thee.  
Ring out that Bell, that passing Bell of Tyranny.  
Proclaim thy Innocence by Trumpet's Sounds,  
And with thy Sword and Pike bore all deaf Ears.  
If thou must go into another world,  
Go like a Gallant man, not creepingly  
Like a poor Rogue into a House by night,  
Through Grates and Holes will tore thy flesh to Rags,  
And make thy Friends in Heaven ashamed to own thee.  Da. 
Which way shall I get hence?  Const. 
In my own Chair,  
We will go both together out, unknown.  
My Chair,  Enter Chairman with a Chair. Du. 
Will you go with me to the Army?  Const. 
No, I'll preserve a certain Friend for thee  
In case uncertain Fortune prove thy Enemy.  
Go out a while, — To the Chair-men:  who go out. Du. 
I want a Sword.  Const. 
Take mine.  The Constable gives the Duke his Sword, who draws it. Du. 
Now know, my Lord, I've once out-witted you,  
I've dived into you, and I find your Plots,  
You have stirred up my Army to Rebellion,  
And now you fain would fool me out to Head 'em.  Const. 
A Guard there.  Du. 
Silence! Or you ne'er speak more.  
I know the Reverence I owe a Father;  
I'll no more violate you than an Altar;  
But we may wipe away dirt from an Altar,  
And I would free you from this dirty World  
In whose foul Womb you labour like a Mole,  
And when you're dragged into the Light of Innocence,  
You are sick, like things out of their Element.  
Since no persuasions then can make you Honest,  
Nor keep you Quiet, Locks and Walls shall do it,  
Both for my Prince's sake, and for your own.  
Into the Chair, so with me to the King.  Const. 
Oh! Slave!  Du. 
Into the Chair.  Const. 
Priestridden Slave!  
Who all thy insipid Life hast been transfusing  
The sheepish thoughts of Priests into thy head,  
Dost know no way but what those wooden Hands  
Direct thee to.  Du. 
Into the Chair.  Const. 
I heard  
A Lover, once in a Rapture, tell his Mistress  
Her Mother fed on Roses; sure when I  
Got thee I was confined to a milk diet.  Du. 
Into the Chair.  Const. 
I'll not into the Chair.  Draws a long Tuck out of a Cane. 
I am provided for you, Sir; a Guard there.—  Enter a Guard. 
Secure this Traitor here, he has disarmed me  
To make escape; Now, Sir, I'll handle you.  
Bind him, and get the Wrack prepared with speed.  The Guard Bind the Duke. 
Oh! thou Fool! Fool! ridiculous, virtuous Fool;  
I cannot speak my mind, I shall betray myself.  
Thou mightst have been King!  Aside to the Duke. Du. 
A glorious Villain.  Const. 
Crowned on that Scaffold where thy Head shall fall.  Enter one of the Guard. Gu. 
My Lord, the Wounded Princess does desire  
Admission to the Duke, she says she has  
Some things of Consequence she would reveal.  Const. 
They are guilty then? and she is a Strumpet,—  
Admit her.—  Enter Lovize in a Chair, her Woman helps her out. Lou. 
Oh! My Lord.  Du. 
Help her, she faints!  
In such fair Ruins Heaven would have lain  
If the ill Angels had subdued the good.  Lou. 
Oh!  Du. 
Such a Groan a breaking Sphere would give.  Lou. 
My Lord.  Du. 
How does my Love?  Lou. 
Exceeding ill;  
And yet not ill enough for one whose sins  
Has brought such ills on you.  Du. 
Your Sins?  Lou. 
Oh yes!  
My Pride and Jealousy did ruin both of us;  
'Twas wicked Sacrilege to let hot Rage  
Melt down your Golden Image in my mind.  Du. 
Your Love, which never wandered once from me  
Where it was born, does talk of me as those  
Do of their Native Country's who ne'er travelled.  
I cannot talk or think too much of you;  
The thoughts you Loved me once, will make me think myself  
Above an Angel, and this sight of you  
Make me disrelish all the Heavenly Visions.  
I say this openly before the World;  
I scorn to tarry till we meet in Death  
And whisper it behind the Globe in private.  Du. 
Did e'er till now two Lovers find such Joys  
In the cold barren space between two Worlds?  
How do these Pleasures gild the Gates of Death,  
Make pleasant Walks to lead up to the Shades?  Const. 
This is the Innocent Pair.  Lou. 
Unnatural Tyrant!  
My Soul is often coming to my Wound,  
And seeing you, start's back, and think's you Hell.  Const. 
I find your Wound has much corrupted Blood in't,  Lou. 
I faint.  Du. 
Oh! help.  Lou. 
Farewell, thou Paradise;  
I'm driven from thee by a Flaming Sword,  
And for the sin of Eve, believing Lies,  
But to a better World than Eve was chased,  
To Heaven! There's one, no doubt: for were there none,  
There would be one o' purpose made for you.—  Dies. Du. 
She's going! She's gone! whilst th' iron Hand  
Of Death, broke this fair Diamond in pieces,  
What Sparks flew round, each Richer than a World?  Enter the Dauphin. Daup. 
What do I see! Oh! Torment! Torment! Hell!  
How durst you suffer this?  Const. 
Sir, she desired  
Admission on pretence she would Confess,  
And only came to Die in his Embraces.  Daup. 
Oh! Hot Egyptian Lust! a Lust which burns  
In Damp's of Death, and makes the Grave a Brothel.  
Vendosme! You till this Moment, like a Torrent,  
Have born me down like a small floating Weed,  
But here you shall run under Ground for ever.  Du. 
But I shall rise again in Paradise,  
Where I shall mix with this Pure Stream for ever.  
But Sir, you take his Life who gave you Yours.  Daup. 
Thou give me Life? Yes, as the Crows and Ravens  
Give me my Eyes, they dare not pick 'em out.  
Thou Buzzard durst not light on me an Eagle,  
For thy last Perch thou knewest would be a Gibbet.  Du. 
Sir, I'll boldly tell you more; In me  
You fling away the Fortune of the Kingdom.  Daup. 
If France's Fortune be so Beggarly,  
Then I do well to fling it on a Dunghill.  Du. 
The Crown you hope to Heir, hang's on this Arm.  Daup. 
I'd scorn to wear a Feather that had hung  
On such a Pin.  Du. 
That Scorn, a Rod shall Scourge,  
Cut from the Cypress that shall shade my Tomb.  
Shortly you'll strive to make another me  
Out of my Dust, mingled with all my Tears,  
And all your Souls: But my proud Dust will slight you.  
My loss is nothing but a World, which always  
Appeared to me, a painted treacherous Whore,  
That leads to Hell the Fools and Knaves that love her,  
And is a Hell to the Brave Men that scorn her.  Daup. 
Sir, for the Satisfaction of the World  
You must confess your Crimes.  Du. 
You know us Innocent.  Daup. 
How darest thou tell me this? Dost thou not see  
That Wrack there? Ha!—  Du. 
Yes, and I see 'tis Wood,  
A Limb of some old fallen Son of Earth;  
And I will not be made to speak a Falsehood  
By any Sons of Earth, or Sons of Kings.  Daup. 
Intolerable! lead him to the Wrack.  Exit Duke with a Guard. Const. 
You see how faithfully I've served you, Sir.  Daup. 
Against your Son.—  Const. 
Yes, Sir, I've gone indeed  
Against the stream of Nature to serve you.  Daup. 
Can I then think thou wilt be true to me?  
If thou couldst go so easily to Mischief,  
When thou wert shackled with the Chains of Nature,  
How swiftly wilt thou run when thou art free?  
Know Fool, I've made thee work thy own destruction,  
I've thrown thee at thy Son, and made you dash  
Each other in pieces like two Earthen Vessels.  Con. 
Ha! did you mean by Favours which you promised me,  
Only to make me Hangman to my Son?  Da. 
Princes no more should keep their words with Villains  
Than Priests with Heretics.  Const. 
Oh! Horror! horror!  
I have fed your Revenge with my Blood's Quintessence,  
The Blood of him I got in my hot Youth,  
And now you break your League, and seek my Life.  Daup. 
I scorn thy withered Life, let it drop from thee,  
Thy wickedness can do no further Mischief,  
Except it work Confusion in the Heavens,  
And make the Sun with horror hid his Head.  
But Nature now is used to barbarous deeds,  
They do not scare her into dire Miscarriages,  
Nor make her Womb conceive unshapen Prodigies:  
Now thou mayst eat thy Son, the Prince of Day  
Is hardy grown, and will not faint and look  
As girlish as he did at Atreus' Feast.  
Perhaps that Eye of Day is dim with Age,  
Then live, but live in quiet. — Guard secure him.  Const. 
Oh! Ruin! Death! I've torn my Bowels out  
To hoist myself into this Tyrant's Favour,  
And I've only made my Fall more deadly.  
Hoys'd did I call it? rather, than I fell,  
When I became a Man, to be a Great One,  
Became a Dog to wear a Silver Collar.  
I am a Dog, and I am running mad  
With drinking the hot Blood of my own Young.  Daup. 
Ha! What mean's this?  An Alarm. Enter Brisac. Brisac. 
The Duke of Vendosm's Troops.  
Are by our treacherous Guards let in upon us;  
That, Sir, you have no safety but in Flight.  Daup. 
Oh Villains!  Const. 
Oh! most seasonable Rogues!  Daup. 
Oh Villains!  Const. 
Oh! most seasonable Rogues!  Daup. 
I'll fall on 'em be the event what it will.  
That Prince who fear's deserves not to be feared,  
Nor to be greater than that Man who dares  
Do greater things than he. Secure that Traitor.  Exit. Enter the Great Constable, La Force, young Captains; the Dauphin, and Brisac Prisoners. Canst. 
Oh! you brave Heroe's, greater each than Brutus,  
He but repaired, you build your Country's Freedom:  
Till now, a Frenchman, scarce deserved to come  
Into the presence of a Roman Statue.  La Ma. 
I find the Constable will be the man,  [Aside. 
I am resolved I will chop in with him.  
My Lord, I beg your pardon for past Errors,  
I find the Court has injured both of us:  
I'll gladly serve you with my Life and Fortune  
If you'll accept of 'em.  Const. 
In my condition  
I shall have great occasion for a Rascal,  
Therefore I will accept thee.  La Ma. 
I will serve you.  Exit. 1. Capt. 
Where is the Duke?  Const. 
Ay! there's the question,  
Here in this flaughter-house is a torn Wrecth,  
Some say is he; his Father knows him not.  All. 
How? a torn Wretch?  Const. 
Ah! Sirs, could you collect  
In one dire figure all the ghastly Horrors  
e'er covered Field, after the bloodiest Battle,  
When one vast paleness spreads the Earth's green Table,  
And Faces folded up in different Grinnes,  
With barbarous Ornament adorn it round,  
And Bodies piled prepare a gluttonous Feast  
For Birds and Beasts of prey, it would not be  
So terrible a sight as this I show you.  The Scene drawn, The Duke is showed wracked, Lovize dead by him. All. 
Oh! Horror! Fire the Lovure!  La For. 
Proclaim Liberty;  
Freedom is born, christian it with Tyrant's blood.  Du. 
Hold! I command you, hold.  La For. 
What's your will?  Du. 
My will is you refine, and turn Barbarians!  
What Savage Nation in the World, retains not  
In the disfigured mass of Humane Nature  
Reverence to Princes? If it be too hard  
To be as polished as Barbarians,  
Be but as good and honest as tame Beasts,  
They be gentle and submissive to their Masters;  
But if you will be Men, Subjects, and Soldiers,  
Fall at your Prince's Feet, and ask him pardon,  
Or throw me dead at yours, do one of 'em,  
Or in small time, I'll throw you dead at mine,  
For I have loyal Troops that will obey me.  Const. 
His pains distract him.  La For. 
What do you mean, my Lord?  
You have had great Injuries.  Du. 
What's that to you?  
But I've had none: My present sufferings  
Are what appearances gave warrant for.  1. Capt. 
You are wronged,  
And do not rob yourself of just Revenge.  Du. 
Nor shall you all here rob me of my Honour;  
Though like base Thiefs you watch your opportunity  
When I am all o▪ fire, and laid in Rumes.  Const. 
He's mad! stark raving mad, Sirs do not mind him.  Du. 
Ho! Guard▪ convey me to my loyal Troops,  
Those shall obey me, imprison me, or kill me.  All. 
We kneel, we kneel! We beg your Highness' pardon.  Du. 
Now seize my Father. — All kneel to the Dauphin.  Daup. 
Was e'er Man so Brave?—  Enter a Messenger. Mess. 
The King is coming hither.  Du. 
Meet him all,  
And fall at his Feet.  The Dauphin, Brisac, and the Caprains go out, Shouts within. After a pause all re-enter, following the King. K. 
The Truth appears too late! Oh! thou rash youth!  
Thou hast destroyed the joys of both our Lives,  
A noble innocent Pair! for they are Innocent!  
Bring in the Traitress who destroyed 'em both.  Enter some with La Guard. La Gu. 
Oh! Blood! Blood follow's me, I'll confess all,  
And beg for Death, no Hell like a bad Conscience.  
The Princess was contracted to the Duke  
Long e'er the Dauphin loved her.  Daup. 
How? Contracted?  La Gu. 
Yes Sir; but e'er they could complete the Marriage,  
You sent away the Duke, to aid the Germans  
Against the Turks, in the mean while your Passion  
For her began; the Constable perceiving it,  
Hoping to draw the Duke from his Allegiance,  
Knowing that no Temptation else could do it,  
Bribed me, and others, wicked as myself,  
To aid him, in obtaining her for You.  
We counterfeited the Duke's Hand exactly,  
And wrote in it provoking Letters to her,  
Then we invented Lies of the Duke's falsehood,  
And by these Arts so turned her haughty mind,  
That she soon hated him, and loved your Highness.  
When this was done, the Constable compelled me  
To lay his tricks and forgeries on you.  
Then went and kindled a fierce jealousy in you,  
And brought you on th' unhappy innocent pair,  
When they were only mourning for their wrongs.  Daup. 
O! horrid! horrid!  Const. 
Oh! notorious falsehood!  La Gu. 
The truth shall out, Sir, the vile Constable  
Lodged all these villainous Secrets in my Bosom.  K. 
Was ever such a Villain?  Const. 
Every Man.  
Is such a Villain, who is not a Fool.  
Had that damned Sot been Lord of half my wit,  
He had this hour been Lord of all the Kingdom.  
To show the difference in our Understandings,  
Mine would have made him King, his noble Wit  
Has made himself a very gallant Fellow.  Pointing scornfully to the Duke. K. 
No, thy unnatural Villainy wrought this.  Const. 
I own I twisted all those various Cables.  
To drag that lump of Lead up to a Throne,  
And he has broke 'em all. Indeed there is  
Too much already of that drossy Metal  
Over the State; the Church is always covered with it,  
And I designed to melt it down, and place  
On top of Church and State rich Gold, myself;  
But dragging him up with me, broke my Pulleys.  K. 
Impudent arrogance!  Const. 
A Corpse, they say,  
Carried to Sea, does always breed a Storm.  
I wafting this dead Fool o'er to a Kingdom,  
Have shipwrecked all the Glories I was laden with.  K. 
Away, with him.  Du. 
Pray give him, Sir, his Life,  Const. 
How? hast thou thrown me on hooks, as Turks do slaves?  
Then wouldst thou have me hang alive in torments?  
No, I will rather have my Limbs feed Crows,  
Then poorly live to be the scorn of Fools.  
For a wise Man the Image of a God,  
To creep to Fools, scarce Images of Men;  
I'll as soon worship golden Calves with Jews,  
Or with the Sumatrans a Monkey's Tooth.  
My Glory, that has kept me ever waking,  
Is out, now send me t'eternal darkness.  
And young man, do you pray, pray hearty,  
Be sure you get to Heaven, for if your piety  
Should crack, and let you fall to Hell where I am,  
I'll plague you worse than all the Devils there.  [Ex. K. 
What a black Demon had I ne'er my Throne?  Enter La Marre. La Ma. 
Now will I fix myself.  
The Constable a Prisoner!  Daup. 
Seize that fellow.  
You shall be hanged, Sir.  La Ma. 
Oh! Sir.  Daup. 
Yes, Sirrah, you are a great Rogue.  La Ma. 
You would not hang me were I a great Rogue.  
Well 'tis as foolish to play Villainy  
As Money, with a Man of a great Stock,  
He can throw out and out, and still play on,  
We once throw out, we are thrown to the Devil,  
Wither they come at last, for when all's done  
The Devil's Box gets all.  Daup. 
My poor Lovize.  K. 
Noble Youth!  
Hast thou had such great wrongs; yet give my Son  
His Life, and me my Crown?  Du. 
Princes are sacred,  
What e'er Religion Rebels may pretend,  
Murderers of Kings are Worshippers of Devils,  
For none but Devils are worshipped by such Sacrifices.  
They who derive all Power from the People,  
Do basely basterdise it with that Buckler  
Which fell from Heaven to protect Innocence.  
They protect Villainy, No sacrilege  
Greater, than when a Rebel with his Sword  
Dares cut the hand of Heaven from King's Commissions,  
To hid the Devil's mark upon his own.  
I lifted up my Arm against the Dauphin,  
It ought to have died and rotten in the Air.  Daup. 
I fully pardon you.  Du. 
Then I die joyfully.  K. 
Talk'st thou of Dying:  Du. 
I received two Wounds  
In the last Battle, Sir, upon my Breast,  
Which now are torn far into Death's Dominions.  The Duke shows his Breast bloody. K. 
Oh! miserable Sight!  Da. 
Oh! blasting Sight!  K. 
Here falls a Pharaoh's Tower, Ephesian Temple,  
The Cost of Ages, Wonder of Eternity.  Duke. 
You gild a vanishing Shadow.—  
May I have leave, Sir, — To the Dauphin.  
To sleep in Death by her who was your Princess?  
But in the Grave there's no Propriety,  
In Death's dark ruinous Empire all lies waste.  Daup. 
You shall have that, and all befiting Honours.  Duke. 
Then come cold Bride to my as cold Embrace,  
The Grave's our Bed, and Death our Bridal-Night,  
None will disturb, or envy our Delight.—  Ex.   

THE EPILOGUE, Spoken by Mr. Haines, who Acted La Marre.  
FInding sad Plays so good success have bad;  
To make this Tragedy exceeding said,  
The Author doomed me to be hanged to Night;  
But now I hoped I should be hang'dout right.  
For I've three plagues no flesh and blood can bear,  
I am a Poet, Married, and a Player.  
A Wife has e'er since Eve been thought an evil,  
The first that danced at Weddings was the Devil.  
At the first Wedding all Mankind miscarried,  
Old Adam ne'er was wicked till he married.  
And Poetry of curses never failed.  
Homer his Rags on all his race entailed.  
He was an old blind Beggar and so poor,  
He starved the Dog that led him, and the Cur  
To have revenge on Poets, got in spite  
Critics, who worry all that dare to write.  
But till of late a Player was a toy  
That either sex liked well enough, t▪ enjoy;  
Happy the Spark that could a Night carouse  
With a whole Sharer once of either House.  
Nay Women once in our acquaintance crept;  
You hardly will believe me,— I was kept.  
But I, and all of us, are fallen so low;  
Nothing will keep us but Bum Bailiffs now.  
Now no divertisement does pleasure bring,  
The Pope has set his foot in every thing.  
His Priests and Poets have conspired our fall,  
Priests by bad Plots, Poets by none at all.  
And Poets like the Jesuits of the times,  
Will hang and damn e'er they will own their Crimes.  
Like Fryan Bacon 's Brazen Head, they'll speak  
Just what they please and then in pieces break.  
'Tis strange fond Nature often takes great pains,  
To build Brass Foreheads to defend no brains.  
Well, Sirs, damn Plays and Poets as you please,  
But pray support a Playhouse for your ease.  
Ladies some Journeys to Hide. Park may spare,  
Our empty Playhouse has enough fresh Air.  
And Gallants pray support us not for Plays,  
But to find Ladies here in rainy days.  
FINIS.