THE SPANISH FRIAR OR, The Double Discovery. Acted at the Duke's Theatre.  
ut melius possis fallere, sum togam.—  Ma. 
— Alterna revisens  
Lusit, & in solido rursus fortuna locavit.  Vir. 
Written by john Dryden, Servant to His MAJESTY.  
LONDON, Printed for Richard Tonson and jacob Tonson, at Grays-inn-gate, in Grays-inn-lane, and at the Iudge's-Head, in Chancery-lane, 1681.   

TO The Right Honourable JOHN LORD HAUGHTON.  
MY LORD,  
WHEN I first designed this Play I found or thought I found somewhat so moving in the serious part of it, and so pleasant in the Comic, as might deserve a more than ordinary Care in both: Accordingly I used the best of my endeavour, in the management of two Plots, so very different from each other, that it was not perhaps the Talent of every Writer, to have made them of a piece. Neither have I attempted other Plays of the same nature, in my opinion, with the same judgement; though with like success. And though many Poets may suspect themselves for the fondness and partiality of Parents to their youngest Children, yet I hope I may stand exempted from this Rule, because I know myself too well to be ever satisfied with my own Conceptions, which have seldom reached to those Ideas that I had within me: and consequently, I presume I may have liberty to judge when I write more or less pardonably, as an ordinary Markes-man may know certainly when he shoots less wide at what he aims. Besides, the Care and Pains I have bestowed on this beyond my other Tragi-comedies may reasonably make the World conclude, that either I can do nothing tolerably, or that this Poem is not much amiss. Few good Pictures have been finished at one sitting; neither can a true just Play, which is to bear the Test of Ages, be produced at a heat, or by the force of fancy, without the maturity of judgement. For my own part, I have both so just a Diffidence of myself, and so great a Reverence for my Audience, that I dare venture nothing without a strict Examination; and am as much ashamed to put a loose indigested Play upon the Public, as I should be to offer brass money in a Payment: For though it should be taken, (as it is too often on the Stage,) yet it will be found in the second telling: And a judicious Reader will discover in his Closet that trashy stuff, whose glittering deceived him in the action. I have often heard the Stationer sighing in his shop, and wishing for those hands to take off his melancholy bargain which clapped its Performance on the Stage. In a Playhouse every thing contributes to impose upon the judgement; the Lights, the Scenes, the Habits, and, above all, the Grace of Action, which is commonly the best where there is the most need of it, surprise the Audience, and cast a mist upon their Understandings; not unlike the cunning of a juggler, who is always staring us in the face, and overwhelming us with gibberish, only that he may gain the opportunity of making the cleaner conveyance of his Trick. But these false Beauties of the Stage are no more lasting than a Rainbow; when the Actor ceases to shine upon them, when he guilds them no longer with his reflection, they vanish in a twinkling. I have sometimes wondered, in the reading, what was become of those glaring Colours which amazed me in Bussy Damboy upon the Theatre: but when I had taken up what I supposed, a fallen Star, I found I had been cozened with a jelly: nothing but a cold dull mass, which glittered no longer than it was shooting: A dwarfish thought dressed up in gigantic words, repetition in abundance, looseness of expression, and gross Hyperboles; the Sense of one line expanded prodigiously into ten: and, to sum up all, uncorrect English, and a hideous mingle of false Poetry and true Nonsense; or, at best, a scantling of wit which lay gasping for life, and groaning beneath a Heap of Rubbish. A famous modern Poet used to sacrifice every year a Statius to Virgil's Manes: and I have Indignation enough to burn a D'amboys annually to the memory of Johnson. But now, My Lord, I am sensible, perhaps too late, that I have gone too far: for I remember some Verses of my own Maximin and Almanzor which cry, Vengeance upon me for their Extravagance, and which I wish heartily in the same fire with Statius and Chapman: All I can say for those passages, which are I hope not many, is, that I knew they were bad enough to please, even when I writ them: But I repent of them amongst my Sins: and if any of their fellows intrude by chance into my present Writings, I draw a stroke over all those Dalilahs of the Theatre; and am resolved I will settle myself no reputation by the applause of fools. 'Tis not that I am mortified to all ambition, but I scorn as much to take it from half-witted judges, as I should to raise an Estate by cheating of Bubbles. Neither do I discommend the lofty style in Tragedy which is naturally pompous and magnificent: but nothing is truly sublime that is not just and proper. If the Ancients had judged by the same measures which a common Reader takes, they had concluded Statius to have written higher than Virgil: for, Quae superimposito moles geminata Colosso, carries a more thundering kind of sound than, Tityre tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi: Yet Virgil had all the Majesty of a lawful Prince; and Statius only the blustering of a Tyrant. But when men affect a Virtue which they cannot reach, they fall into a Vice, which bears the nearest resemblance to it. Thus an injudicious Poet who aims at Loftiness runs easily into the swelling puffie style, because it looks like Greatness. I remember, when I was a Boy, I thought inimitable Spencer a mean Poet in comparison of Sylvester's Dubartas: and was rapt into an ecstasy when I read these lines: 
Now, when the Winter's keener breath began  
To Crystallise the Baltic Ocean;  
To glaze the Lakes, to bridle up the Floods,  
And periwig with Snow the bald pate Woods:  I am much deceived if this be not abominable fustian, that is, thoughts and words ill sorted, and without the least relation to each other: yet I dare not answer for an Audience, that they would not clap it on the Stage: so little value there is to be given to the common cry, that nothing but Madness can please Madmen, and a Poet must be of a piece with the Spectators, to gain a reputation with them. But, as in a room, contrived for State, the height of the roof should bear a proportion to the Area; so, in the Heightnings of Poetry, the strength and vehemence of Figures should be suited to the Occasion, the Subject, and the Persons. All beyond this is monstrous; 'tis out of nature, 'tis an excrescence, and not a living part of Poetry. I had not said thus much, if some young Gallants, who pretend to Criticism, had not told me that this Tragi-comedy wanted the dignity of style: but as a man who is charged with a Crime of which he thinks himself innocent, is apt to be too eager in his own defence, so perhaps I have vindicated my Play with more partiality than I ought, or than such a trifle can deserve. Yet, whatever beauties it may want, 'tis free at least from the grossness of those faults I mentioned: What Credit it has gained upon the Stage, I value no farther than in reference to my Profit, and the satisfaction I had in seeing it represented with all the justness and gracefulness of Action. But as 'tis my Interest to please my Audience, so 'tis my Ambition to be read; that I am sure is the more lasting and the nobler Design: for the propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a Play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of Action: All things are there beheld, as in a hasty motion, where the objects only glide before the Eye and disappear. The most discerning Critic can judge no more of these silent graces in the Action, than he who rides Post through an unknown Country can distinguish the situation of places, and the nature of the soil. The purity of phrase, the clearness of conception and expression, the boldness maintained to Majesty, the significancie and sound of words, not strained into bombast, but justly elevated, in short, those very words and thoughts which cannot be changed but for the worse, must of necessity escape our transient view upon the Theatre: and yet without all these a Play may take. For if either the Story move us, or the Actor help the lameness of it with his performance, or now and then a glittering beam of wit or passion strike through the obscurity of the Poem, any of these are sufficient to effect a present liking, but not to fix a lasting admiration; for nothing but Truth can long continue; and Time is the surest judge of Truth. I am not vain enough to think I have left no faults in this, which that touchstone will not discover; neither indeed is it possible to avoid them in a Play of this nature. There are evidently two Actions in it: But it will be clear to any judicious man, that with half the pains I could have raised a Play from either of them: for this time I satisfied my own humour, which was to tack two Plays together; and to break a rule for the pleasure of variety. The truth is, the Audience are grown weary of continued melancholy Scenes: and I dare venture to prophesy, that few Tragedies except those in Verse shall succeed in this Age, if they are not lightened with a course of mirth. For the Feast is too dull and solemn without the Fiddles. But how difficult a task this is, will soon be tried: for a several Genius is required to either way; and without both of 'em, a man, in my opinion, is but half a Poet for the Stage. Neither is it so trivial an undertaking, to make a Tragedy end happily; for 'tis more difficult to save than 'tis to kill. The Dagger and the Cup of Poison are always in a readiness; but to bring the Action to the last extremity, and then by probable means to recover all, will require the Art and judgement of a Writer; and cost him many a pang in the performance.  
And now, My Lord, I must confess that what I have written looks more like a Preface than a Dedication; and truly it was thus far my design, that I might entertain you with somewhat in my own Art which might be more worthy of a noble mind, than the stale exploded Trick of fulsome Panegyrics. 'Tis difficult to write justly on any thing, but almost impossible in Praise. I shall therefore wave so nice a subject; and only tell you, that in recommending a Protestant Play to a Protestant Patron, as I do myself an Honour, so I do your Noble Family a right, who have been always eminent in the support and favour of our Religion and Liberties. And if the promises of your Youth, your Education at home, and your Experience abroad, deceive me not, the Principles you have embraced are such as will no way degenerate from your Ancestors, but refresh their memory in the minds of all true Englishmen, and renew their lustre in your Person; which, My Lord, is not more the wish than it is the constant expectation of  
your Lordship's Most obedient, faithful Servant, john Dryden.   

PROLOGUE.  
NOW Luck for us, and a kind hearty Pit;  
For he who pleases, never fails of Wit:  
Honour is yours:  
And you, like Kings, at City Treats bestow it;  
The Writer kneels, and is bid rise a Poet:  
But you are fickle Sovereigns, to our Sorrow,  
You dubb to day, and hang a man to morrow;  
You cry the same Sense up, and down again,  
Just like brass money once a year in Spain:  
Take you i'th' mood, what e'er base metal come,  
You coin as fast as Groats at Bromingam:  
Though 'tis no more like Sense in ancient Plays,  
Than Rome's Religion like St. Peter's days.  
In short, so swift your judgements turn and wind,  
You cast our fleetest Wits a mile behind.  
'Twere well your judgements but in Plays did range,  
But even your Follies and Debauches change  
With such a Whirl, the Poets of your age  
Are tired, and cannot score 'em on the Stage,  
Unless each Vice in shorthand they indite,  
Even as notched Prentices whole Sermons write.  
The heavy Hollanders no Vices know  
But what they used a hundred years ago,  
Like honest Plants, where they were stuck, they grow;  
They cheat, but still from cheating Sires they come;  
They drink, but they were christened first in Mum.  
Their patrimonial Sloth the Spaniards keep,  
And Philip first taught Philip how to sleep.  
The French and we still change, but here's the Curse,  
They change for better, and we change for worse;  
They take up our old trade of Conquering,  
And we are taking theirs, to dance and sing:  
Our Fathers did for change to France repair,  
And they for change will try our English Air.  
As Children, when they throw one Toy away,  
Straight a more foolish Gugaw comes in play:  
So we, grown penitent, on serious thinking,  
Leave Whoring, and devoutly fall to Drinking.  
Scouring the Watch grows out of fashion wit  
Now we set up for Tilting in the Pit,  
Where 'tis agreed by Bullies, chicken-hearted,  
To fright the Ladies first, and then be parted.  
A fair Attempt has twice or thrice been made,  
To hire Night-murth'rers, and make Death a Trade.  
When murder's out, what Vice can we advance?  
Unless the new found Poisoning Trick of France:  
And when their Art of Ratsbane we have got,  
By way of thanks, we'll send 'em o'er our Plot.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Leonora, Queen of Arragon, Mrs. Barry.  
Teresa, Woman to Leonora, Mrs. Crofts.  
Elvira, Wife to Gomez, Mrs. Betterton.  
Torrismond, Mr. Betterton.  
Bertran, Mr. Williams.  
Alphonso, Mr. Wilisheir.  
Lorenzo, his Son, Mr. Smith.  
Raymond, Mr. Gillow.  
Pedro, Mr. underhill.  
Gomez, Mr. noke's.  
Dominic, the Spanish Friar, Mr. Lee.    
THE SPANISH FRIAR: OR, THE Double Discovery.  

ACT I.  Alphonso, Pedro meet, with Soldiers on each side, drum's, etc. Alph. 
STand: give the Word.  Pedro. 
The Queen of Arragon.  Alph. 
Pedro?— how goes the night?  Pedr. 
She wears apace.  Alph. 
Then welcome daylight: We shall have warm work on't:  
The Moor will ' gage  
His utmost Forces on this next Assault,  
To win a Queen and Kingdom.  Pedro, 
Pox o''is Lyon-way of wooing though:  
Is the Queen stirring yet?  Alph. 
She has not been a-bed: but in her Chapel  
All night devoutly watched: and bribed the Saints  
With Vows for her Deliverance.  Pedro, 
O, Alphonso,  
I fear they come too late! her Father's crimes  
Sit heavy on her; and weigh down her prayers:  
A Crown usurped; a lawful King deposed;  
In bondage held; debarred the common light;  
His Children murdered, and his Friends destroyed:  
What can we less expect then what we feel,  
And what we fear will follow?  Alph. 
Heaven avert it!  Pedro, 
Then Heaven must not be Heaven: Judge the event  
By what has passed: Th' Usurper joyed not long  
His ill-got Crown! 'Tis true, he died in peace:  
Unriddle that ye Powers: But left his Daughter,  
Our present Queen, engaged, upon his deathbed,  
To marry with young Bertran, whose cursed Father  
Had helped to make him great.  
Hence, you well know, this fatal War arose;  
Because the Moor, Abdalla, with whose Troops  
Th' Usurper gained the Kingdom, was refused;  
And, as an Infidel, his Love despised.  Alph. 
Well; we are Soldiers, Pedro: and, like Lawyers,  
Plead for our Pay.  Pedro, 
A good Cause would do well though:  
It gives my Sword and Edge: You see this Bertran  
Has now three times been beaten by the moors:  
What hope we have, is in young Torrismond,  
Your brother's Son.  Alph. 
He's a successful Warrior,  
And has the Soldier's hearts: Upon the skirts  
Of Arragon, our squandered Troops he rallies:  
Our Watchmen, from the towers, with longing Eyes  
Expect his swift Arrival.  Pedro, 
It must be swift, or it will come too late.  Alph. 
No more:— Duke Bertran.  [Enter Bertran, attended. Bertr. 
Relieve the centuries that have watched all night.  
To Ped. Now, Colonel, have you disposed your men,  
That you stand idle here?  Pedro, 
Mine are drawn off,  
To take a short repose.  Bertr. 
Short let it be:  
For, from the Moorish Camp, this hour and more,  
There has been heard a distant humming noise,  
Like Bees disturbed, and arming in their hives.  
What Courage in our Soldiers? Speak! What hope?  Pedro, 
As much as when Physicians shake their heads,  
And bid their dying Patient think of Heaven.  
Our Walls are thinly manned: our best Men slain:  
The rest, an heartless number, spent with Watching,  
And harassed out with Duty.  Bertran, 
Good-night all then.  Pedro, 
Nay, for my part, 'tis but a single life  
I have to lose: I'll plant my Colours down  
In the mid-breach, and by 'em fix my foot:  
Say a short Soldiers Prayer, to spare the trouble  
Of my few Friends above: and then expect  
The next fair Bullet.  Alph. 
Never was known a night of such distraction:  
Noise so confused and dreadful: Justling Crowds,  
That run, and know not whither: Torches gliding,  
Like Meteors, by each other in the streets.  Pedro, 
I met a reverend, fat, old, gouty Friar;  
With a Paunch swollen so high, his double Chin  
Might rest upon't: A true Son of the Church;  
Fresh coloured, and well thriven on his Trade,  
Come puffing with his greasy baldpate Choir,  
And fumbling o'er his Beads, in such an Agony,  
He told 'em false for fear: About his Neck  
There hung a Wench; the Label of his Function;  
Whom he shook off, i'faith, methought, unkindly.  
It seems the holy Stallion durst not score  
Another Sin before he left the world.  [Enter a Captain. Capt. 
To Arms, My Lord, to Arms.  
From the Moors Camp the noise grows louder still:  
Rattling of Armour, Trumpets, drum's, and Ataballes;  
And sometimes Peals of Shouts that rend the heavens',  
Like Victory: then Groans again, and Howlings,  
Like those of vanquished men: But every Echo  
Goes fainter off; and dies in distant Sounds.  Bertran, 
Some false Attaque: expect on t'other side:  
One to the Gunners on St. Iago's Tower; Bid 'em, for shame,  
Level their Cannon lower: On my Soul,  
They 're all corrupted with the Gold of Barbary  
To carry over, and not hurt the Moor.  [Enter 2. Captain. 2. Capt. 
My Lord, here's fresh Intelligence arrived:  
Our Army, led by Valiant Torrismond,  
Is now in hot Engagement with the Moors;  
'Tis said, within their Trenches.  Bertr. 
I think all Fortune is reserved for him.  
He might have sent us word though;  
And then we could have favoured his Attempt  
With Sallies from the Town.—  Alph. 
It could not be:  
We were so close blocked up that none could peep  
Upon the Walls and live: But yet 'tis time:—  Bertr. 
No, 'tis too late; I will not hazard it:  
On pain of Death, let no man dare to sally.  Pedr. 
(aside) Oh Envy, Envy, how it works within him!  
How now! What means this Show?  Alph. 
'Tis a Procession:  
The Queen is going to the great Cathedral  
To pray for our Success against the moors.  Pedro, 
Very good: She usurps the Throne; keeps the old king in Prison; and, at the same time, is praying for a Blessing: Oh Religion and Roguery, how they go together!  A Procession of Priests and Choristers in white, with Tapers, followed by the Queen and Ladies, goes over the Stage: the Choristers singing. 

Look down, ye blessed above, look down,  
Behold our weeping Matron's Tears,  
Behold our tender Virgin's Fears,  
And with success our Army's crown.   

Look down, ye blessed above, look down:  
Oh! save us, save us, and our State restore;  
For Pity, Pity, Pity, we implore;  
For Pity, Pity, Pity, we implore.   The Procession goes off; and shout within. Then enter Lorenzo, who kneels to Alphonso. Bertr. 
to Alph. A joyful Cry: and see your Son Lorenzo:  
Good news kind Heaven!  Alph. 
to Lorenzo, O, welcome, welcome! Is the General safe?  
How near our Army? When shall we be succoured?  
Or, Are we succoured? Are the moors removed?  
Answer these Questions first; and then, a Thousand more:  
Answer 'em all together.  Lorenzo, 
Yes, when I have a thousand Tongues, I will.  
The General's well: His Army too is safe  
As Victory can make 'em: The moors King  
Is safe enough, I warrant him, for one.  
At dawn of day our General cleft his Pate,  
Spite of his woollen Nightcap: A slight wound:  
Perhaps he may recover.  Alphonso, 
Thou revivest me.  Pedro, 
By my computation now, the Victory was gained before the Procession was made for it; and yet it will go hard, but the Priests will make a Miracle on't.  Lorenzo, 
Yes, Faith; we came like bold intruding Guests;  
And took 'em unprepared to give us welcome:  
Their Scouts we killed; then found their Body sleeping:  
And as they lay confused, we stumbled o'er 'em;  
And took what Joint came next; Arms, Heads, or Legs;  
Somewhat undecently: But when men want light  
They make but bungling work.  Bertr. 
I'll to the Queen,  
And bear the News.  Pedro, 
That's young Lorenzo's duty.  Bertr. 
I'll spare his trouble.—  
This Torrismond begins to grow too fast;  
He must be mine, or ruined.  Aside. Lorenzo, 
Pedro, a word:—  (whisper.) [Exit Bertran. Alph. 
How swift he shot away! I find it stung him,  
In spite of his dissembling.  
To Lorenzo, How many of the Enemy are slain?  Lorenzo, 
Troth, Sir, we were in haste; and could not stay  
To score the men we killed: But there they lie.  
Best send our Women out to take the tale;  
There's Circumcision in abundance 'em.  [Turns to Pedro again. Alph. 
How far did you 'em?  Lorenzo, 
Some few miles.—  
To Pedro, Good store of Harlots, say you, and dog-cheap?  Pedro, 
They must be had; and speedily:  
I 've kept a tedious Fast.  (Whisper again.) Alph. 
When will he make his Entry? He deserves  
Such Triumphs as were given by Ancient Rome:  
Ha, Boy, What sayest thou?  Lorenzo, 
As you say, Sir, That Rome was very ancient—  
To Pedro, I leave the choice to you; Fair, Black, Tall, Low:  
Let her but have a Nose:— and you may tell her  
I'm rich in Jewels, Rings, and bobbing Pearls  
Plucked from Moor's ears.—  Alph. 
Lorenzo?  Lorenzo, 
Somewhat busy  
About Affairs relating to the public.—  
— A seasonable Girl, just in the nick now:—  [to Pedro [Trumpets within. Pedro, 
I hear the General's Trumpets: Stand, and mark  
How he will be received; I fear, but coldly:  
There hung a Cloud, methought, on Bertran's brow.  Lorenzo, 
Then look to see a Storm on Torrismond's:  
Looks fright not men: The General has seen Moores,  
With as bad Faces; no dispraise to Bertrans.  Pedro, 
'Twas rumoured in the Camp, he loves the Queen.  Lorenzo, 
He drinks her Health devoutly.  Alph. 
That may breed bad blood 'twixt him and Bertran.  Pedro, 
Yes, in private:  
But Bertran has been taught the Arts of Court,  
To guild a Face with Smiles; and leer a man to ruin.  
O here they come.—  Enter Torrismond and Officers on one side: Bertran attended on the other: they embrace; Bertran bowing low. 
Just as I prophesied.—  Lorenzo, 
Death and Hell, he laughs at him:— in's Face too.  Pedro, 
O, you mistake him: 'Twas an humble Grin;  
The fawning Joy of Courtiers and of Dogs.  Lorenzo, 
(Aside) Here are nothing but Lies to be expected:  
I'll e'en go lose myself in some blind Alley; and try if any courteous  
Damsel will think me worth the finding.  [Exit Lorenzo. Alph. 
Now he begins to open.  Bertran, 
Your Country rescued, and your Queen relieved!  
A glorious Conquest; Noble Torrismond!  
The People rend the Skies with loud Applause;  
And Heaven can hear no other Name but yours.  
The thronging Crowds press on you as you pass;  
And, with their eager Joy, make Triumph slow.  Torr. 
My Lord, I have no taste  
Of popular Applause; the noisy Praise  
Of giddy Crowds, as changeable as Winds;  
Still vehement, and still without a cause:  
Servants to Chance; and blowing in the tide  
Of swollen Success; but, veering with its ebb,  
It leaves the channel dry.  Bertran, 
So young a Stoic!  Torr. 
You wrong me, if you think I'll sell one drop  
Within these Veins for Pageants: But let Honour  
Call for my Blood; and sluice it into streams;  
Turn Fortune lose again to my pursuit;  
And let me hunt her through embattelled Foes,  
In dusty Plains, amidst the Cannons roar,  
There will I be the first.  Bert. 
I'll try him farther—  (aside.) 
Suppose th' assembled States of Arragon  
Decree a Statue to you thus inscribed,  
To Torrismond, who freed his native Land.  Alph. 
to Pedro, Mark how he sounds and fathoms him, to find  
The shallows of his Soul!  Bertr. 
The just Applause  
Of Godlike Senates, is the Stamp of Virtue,  
Which makes it pass unquestioned through the World:  
These Honours you deserve; nor shall my suffrage  
Be last to fix 'em on you: If refused,  
You brand us all with black Ingratitude;  
For times to come shall say, Our Spain, like Rome,  
Neglects her Champions, after Noble Acts,  
And lets their Laurels wither on their heads.  Torrismond, 
A Statue, for a Battle blindly fought,  
Where Darkness and Surprise made Conquest cheap!  
Where Virtue borrowed but the Arms of Chance,  
And struck a random blow! 'Twas Fortune's work;  
And Fortune take the praise.  Bertr. 
Yet Happiness  
Is the first Fame: Virtue without Success  
Is a fair Picture shown by an ill light:  
But lucky men are Favourites of Heaven:  
And whom should Kings esteem above Heaven's Darlings?  
The Praises of a young and beauteous Queen  
Shall crown your glorious Acts.  Pedro 
to Alphonso, There sprung the Mine.  Torr. 
The Queen! That were a happiness too great!  
named you the Queen, My Lord?  Bertr. 
Yes: You have seen her, and you must confess  
A Praise, a Smile, a Look from her is worth  
The shouts of thousand Amphitheatres:  
She, she shall praise you; for I can oblige her:  
To morrow will deliver all her Charms  
Into my Arms; and make her mine for ever.  
Why stand you mute?  Torr. 
Alas! I cannot speak.  Bertr. 
Not speak, My Lord! How were your thoughts employed?  Torr. 
Not can I think; or I am lost in thought.  Bertr. 
Thought of the Queen, perhaps?  Torr. 
Why, if it were,  
Heaven may be thought on, though too high to climb.  Bertr. 
O, now I find where your Ambition drives:  
You ought not think of her.  Torr. 
So I say too;  
I ought not: Madmen ought not to be mad:  
But who can help his frenzy?  Bertr. 
Fond young Man!  
The Wings of your Ambition must be clipped:  
Your shamefaced Virtue shunned the People's Praise,  
And Senate's Honours: But 'tis well we know  
What price you hold yourself at: you have fought  
With some Success, and that has sealed your Pardon.  Torr. 
Pardon from thee! O, give me patience Heaven!  
Thrice vanquished Bertran; if thou dar'st, look out  
Upon yon slaughtered Host, that Field of blood:  
There seal my Pardon, where thy Fame was lost.  Ped. 
He's ruined, past redemption!  Alph. 
to Torr. Learn respect  
To the first Prince o'th' blood.  Bert. 
O, let him rave!  
I'll not contend with Madmen.  Torr. 
I have done:  
I know 'twas Madness to declare this Truth:  
And yet 'twere Baseness to deny my Love.  
'Tis true, my hopes are vanishing as clouds;  
Lighter than children's bubbles blown by winds:  
My merit's but the rash results of chance:  
My birth unequal: all the stars against me:  
Power, promise, choice; the living and the dead:  
Mankind my foes; and only love to friend:  
But such a love, kept at such awful distance,  
As, what it loudly dares to tell, a Rival  
Shall fear to whisper there: Queens may be loved,  
And so may Gods; else, why are Altars raised?  
Why shines the Sun, but that he may be viewed?  
But, Oh! when he's too bright, if then we gaze,  
'Tis but to weep; and close our eyes in darkness.  [Exit Torrismond. Bert. 
'Tis well: the Goddess shall be told, she shall,  
Of her new Worshipper.  [Exit Bertran. Pedro, 
So, here's fine work!  
He has supplied his only foe with arms  
For his destruction. Old Penelope's tale  
Inverted: h'has unravelled all by day  
That he has done by night.— What, Planet-struck!  Alph. 
I wish I were; to be past sense of this!  Ped. 
Would I had but a Lease of life so long  
As till my Flesh and Blood rebelled this way  
Against our Sovereign Lady: mad for a Queen?  
With a Globe in one hand, and a Sceptre in t'other?  
A very pretty Moppet!  Alph. 
Then to declare his Madness to his Rival!  
His Father absent on an Embassy:  
Himself a Stranger almost; wholly friendless!  
A Torrent, rolling down a Precipice,  
Is easier to be stopped, then is his Ruin.  Ped. 
'Tis fruitless to complain: haste to the Court:  
Improve your interest there, for Pardon from the Queen.  Alph. 
Weak remedies;  
But all must be attempted.  [Exit Alphonso. Enter Lorenzo. Lor. 
Well, I am the most unlucky Rogue! I have been ranging over half the Town; but have sprung no Game. Our Women are worse Infidels than the moors: I told 'em I was one of their Knight-errants, that delivered them from ravishment: and I think in my conscience that's their Quarrel to me.  Pedro, 
Is this a time for fooling? Your Cousin is run honourably mad in love with her Majesty: He is split upon a Rock; and you, who are in chase of Harlots, are sinking in the main Ocean. I think the Devil's in the Family.  [Exit Pedro. [Lorenzo solus. Lor. 
My Cousin ruined, says he! hum! not that I wish my Kinsman's ruin; that wered Unchristian: but if the General's ruined, I am Heir; there's comfort for a Christian. Money I have, I thank the honest Moor's fort; but I want a Mistress. I am willing to be lewd; but the Tempter is wanting on his part.  Enter Elvira veiled. Elvira, 
Stranger! Cavalier— will you not hear me? you Moore-killer, you Matador.—  Lor. 
Meaning me, Madam?  Elvira, 
Face about, Man; you a Soldier, and afraid of the Enemy!  Lor. 
I must confess, I did not expect to have been charged first: I see Souls will not be lost for want of diligence in this Devil's reign: — Aside— To her. Now; Madam Cynthia behind a cloud; your will and pleasure with me?  Elvira, 
You have the appearance of a Cavalier; and if you are as deserving as you seem, perhaps you may not repent of your Adventure. If a Lady like you well enough to hold discourse with you at first sight; you are Gentleman enough, I hope, to help her out with an Apology: and to lay the blame on Stars, or Destiny; or what you please, to excuse the Frailty of a Woman.  Lorenzo, 
O, I love an easy Woman: there's such a do to crack a thick shelled Mistress: we break our Teeth; and find no Kernel. 'Tis generous in you, to take pity on a Stranger; and not to suffer him to fall into ill hands at his first arrival.  Elvira, 
You may have a better opinion of me than I deserve; you have not seen me yet; and therefore I am confident you are heart-whole.  Lorenzo, 
Not absolutely slain, I must confess; but I am drawing on apace: you have a dangerous Tongue in your head, I can tell you that; and if your Eyes prove of as killing metal, there's but one way with me: Let me see you, for the safeguard of my Honour: 'tis but decent the Cannon should be drawn down upon me, before I yield.  Elvira, 
What a terrible Similitude have you made, Colonel? to show that you are inclining to the Wars: I could answer you with another in my Profession: Suppose you were in want of Money; would you not be glad to take a Sum upon content in a sealed bag, without peeping?— but however; I will not stand with you for a sample.  [Lifts up her Veil. Lorenzo, 
What Eyes were there! how keen their Glances! you do well to keep 'em veiled: they are too sharp to be trusted out o'th' Scabbard.  Elvira, 
Perhaps now you may accuse my forwardness; but this day of Jubilee is the only time of freedom I have had: and there is nothing so extravagant as a Prisoner, when he gets lose a little, and is immediately to return into his Fetters.  Lorenzo, 
To confess freely to you, Madam, I was never in love with less than your whole Sex before: but now I have seen you, I am in the direct road of languishing and sighing: and, if Love goes on as it begins, for aught I know, by to morrow morning you may hear of me in Rhyme and Sonnet. I tell you truly, I do not like these Symptoms in myself: perhaps I may go shufflingly at first; for I was never before walked in Trammels; yet I shall drudge and moil at Constancy, till I have worn off the hitching in my pace.  Elvira, 
Oh, Sir, there are Arts to reclaim the wildest Men, as there are to make Spaniels fetch and carry: chide 'em often, and feed 'em seldom: now I know your temper, you may thank yourself if you are kept to hard meat:— you, are in for years if you make love to me.  Lorenzo, 
I hate a formal obligation with an Anno Domini at end on't; there may be an evil meaning in the word Years, called Matrimony.  Elvira, 
I can easily rid you of that Fear: I wish I could rid myself as easily of the bondage.  Lorenzo, 
Then you are married?  Elvira, 
If a Covetous, and a Jealous, and an Old man be a husband.  Lor. 
Three as good qualities for my purpose as I could wish: now love be praised.  [Enter Elvira's Duenna, and whispers to her. Elvira, 
(Aside.) If I get not home before my Husband, I shall be ruined. [— to him. I dare not stay to tell you where— farewell— could I once more—  [Exit Elvira. Lorenzo, 
This is unconcionable dealing; to be made a Slave, and not know whose livery I wear:— Who have we yonder? (Enter Gomez,) By that shambling in his walk, it should be my rich old Banquer, Gomez, whom I knew at Barcelona: As I live 'tis he—  
To Gomez, What, Old Mammon here?  Gom. 
How! Young Beelzebub!  Lorenzo, 
What Devil has set his Claws in thy Haunches, and brought thee hither to Saragossa? Sure he meant a farther Journey with thee.  Gom. 
I always remove before the Enemy: When the moors are ready to besiege one Town, I shift quarters to the next: I keep as far from the Infidels as I can.  Lor. 
That's but a hair's breadth at farthest.  Gom. 
Well, you have got a famous Victory; all true Subjects are overjoyed at it: there are Bonfires decreed: and the times had not been hard, my Billet should have burnt too.  Lor. 
I dare say for thee, thou hast such a respect for a single Billet, thou wouldst almost have thrown on thyself to save it: thou art for saving every thing but thy Soul.  Gom. 
Well, well, You'll not believe me generous till I carry you to the Tavern, and crack half a Pint with you at my own charges.  Lor. 
No; I'll keep thee from hanging thyself for such an extravagance: and, instead of it, thou shalt do me a mere verbal courtesy: I have just now seen a most incomparable young Lady.  Gom. 
Whereabouts did you see this most incomparable young Lady? my mind misgives me plaguily.—  (Aside.) Lor. 
Here, man; just before this Corner-house: Pray Heaven it prove no Bawdy-house.  Gom. 
(Aside.) Pray heaven he does not make it one.  Lor. 
What dost thou mutter to thyself? Hast thou any thing to say against the Honesty of that house?  Gom. 
Not I, Colonel, the Walls are very honest Stone, and the Timber very honest Wood, for aught I know. But for the Woman, I cannot say, till I know her better: describe her person; and, if she live in this quarter, I may give you tidings of her.  Lor. 
She's of a middle Stature, dark coloured Hair, the most bewitching Leer with her Eyes, the most roguish Cast; her Cheeks are dimpled when she Smiles; and her Smiles would tempt an Hermit.  Gom. 
(Aside.) I am dead, I am buried, I am damned.— Go on— Colonel— have you no other Marks of her?  Lor. 
Thou hast all her Marks; but that she has an Husband; a jealous, covetous, old Hunks: speak; canst thou tell me News of her?  Gom. 
Yes; this News, Colonel; that you have seen your last of her.  Lor. 
If thou helpest me not to the knowledge of her, thou art a circumcised jew.  Gom. 
Circumcise me no more than I circumcise you, Colonel Hernando: once more you have seen your last of her.  Lor. 
(Aside.) I am glad he knows me only by that Name of Hernando, by which I went at Barcelona: now he can tell no tales of me to my Father.  
To him. Come, thou wert ever good-natured, when thou couldst get by't:— Look here, Rogue, 'tis of the right damning colour:— thou art not Proof against Gold, sure!— do not I know thee for a covetous,—  Gomez, 
Jealous, old Hunks: those were the Marks of your Mistress' Husband, as I remember, Colonel.  Lor. 
Oh, the Devil! What a Rogue in understanding was I, not to find him out sooner!  (Aside.) Gom. 
Do, do, Look sillily, good Colonel: 'tis a decent Melancholy after an absolute Defeat.  Lor. 
Faith, not for that, dear Gomez;— but,  Gom. 
But— no Pumping, My dear Colonel.  Lor. 
Hang Pumping; I was— thinking a little upon a point of Gratitude: we two have been long Acquaintance; I know thy Merits, and can make some Interest: go to; thou wert born to Authority: I'll make thee Alcaide Mayor of Sarragossa.  Gom. 
Satisfy yourself; you shall not make me what you think, Colonel.  Lor. 
Faith but I will; thou hast the Face of a Magistrate already.  Gom. 
And you would provide me with a Magistrate's Head to my Magistrate's Face; I thank you Colonel.  Lor. 
Come, thou art so suspicious upon an idle Story— that Woman I saw, I mean that little, crooked, ugly Woman; for t'other was a Lie;— is no more thy Wife:— As I'll go home with thee, and satisfy thee immediately, My dear Friend.  Gom. 
I shall not put you to that trouble: no not so much as a single Visit: not so much as an Embassy by a civil, old Woman: nor a Serenade of Twinckledum, Twinckledum, under my windows: Nay, I will advise you out of my tenderness to your Person, that you walk not near you Corner-house by night; for to my certain knowledge, there are Blunderbusses planted in every loophole, that go off constantly of their own accord, at the squeaking of a Fiddle, and the thrumming of a Ghittar.  Lor. 
Art thou so obstinate? Then I denounce open War against thee: I'll demolish thy Citadel by force: or, at least, I'll bring my whole Regiment upon thee: my thousand Red Locusts that shall devour thee in Free quarter.— Farewell wrought Nightcap.  [Exit Lorenzo. Gom. 
Farewell Buff! Freequarter for a Regiment of Red coat Locusts? I hope to see 'em all in the Red-sea first!— But oh, this jezabel of mine! I'll get a Physician that shall prescribe her an ounce of Camphire every morning for her Breakfast, to abate Incontinency: she shall never peep abroad, no, not to Church for Confession; and for never going, she shall be condemned for a Heretic: she shall have Str●peses by Troy weight; and Sustenance by drachms and scruples: Nay, I'll have a Fasting Almanac printed on purpose for her use; in which,  
No Carnival nor Christmas shall appear;  
But Lents and Ember-weeks shall fill the year.  [Exit Gomez.  

ACT II.  

SCENE, The Queen's Antichamber.  Alphonso, Pedro. Alph. 
WHen saw you my Lorenzo?  Ped. 
I had a glimpse of him; but he shot by me  
Like a young Hound upon a burning scent:  
He's gone a Harlot-hunting.  Alph. 
His foreign breeding might have taught him better.  Ped. 
'Tis that has taught him this.  
What learn our Youth abroad; but to refine  
The homely Vices of their native Land?  
Give me an honest homespun country Clown  
Of our own growth; his dulness is but plain;  
But their's embroidered: they are sent out Fools,  
And come back Fops.  Alph. 
You know what reasons urged me;  
But now I have accomplished my Designs,  
I should be glad he knew 'em:— his wild Riots  
Disturb my soul; but they would sit more close,  
Did not the threatened down-fall of our house,  
In Torrismond, overwhelm my private Ills.  Enter Bertran attended; and whispering with a Courtier, aside. Bertr. 
I would not have her think he dared to love her;  
If he presume to own it, she's so proud  
He tempts his certain ruin.  Alph. 
to Ped. Mark how disdainfully he throws his Eyes on us.  
Our old imprisoned King wore no such Looks.  Ped. 
O, would the General shake off his Dotage to th'usurping Queen,  
And reinthrone Good, Venerable Sancho,  
I'll undertake, should Bertran sound his Trumpets,  
And Torrismond but whistle through his Fingers,  
He draws his Army off.  Alph. 
I told him so:  
But had an Answer louder than a Storm.  Ped. 
Now Plague and Pox on his Smock-loyalty!  
I hate to see a brave bold Fellow sotted,  
Made sour and senseless; turned to Whey by Love:  
A drivelling Hero; fit for a Romance.  
O, here he comes; what will their greeting be!  Enter Torrismond attended. Bertran and he meet and justle. Bertr. 
Make way, My Lords, and let the Pageant pass.  Torr. 
I make my way where e'er I see my Foe:  
But you, My Lord, are good at a Retreat:  
I have no moors behind me.  Bertr. 
Death and Hell!  
Dare to speak thus when you come out again?  Torr. 
Dare to provoke me thus, insulting man?  [Enter Teresa. Ter. 
My Lords, You are too loud so near the Queen:  
You, Torrismond, have much offended her:  
'Tis her Command you instantly appear,  
To answer your demeanour to the Prince.  Exit Teresa; Bertran with his company follow her. Torr. 
O Pedro, O Alphonso, pity me!  
A Grove of Pikes  
Whose polished Steel from far severely shines,  
Are not so dreadful as this beauteous Queen.  Alph. 
Call up your Courage timely to your aid:  
And, like a Lion pressed upon the Toils,  
Leap on your Hunters: Speak your Actions boldly;  
There is a time when modest Virtue is  
Allowed to praise itself.  Ped. 
Heart, you were hot enough; too hot, but now;  
Your Fury then boiled upward to a Foam:  
But since this Message came, you sink and settle;  
As if cold water had been poured upon you.  Torr. 
Alas, thou know'st not what it is to love!  
When we behold an Angel, not to fear,  
Is to be impudent:— no I'm resolved,  
Like a led Victim, to my Death I'll go;  
And, dying, bless the hand that gave the blow.  [Exeunt.  

The SCENE draws; and shows the Queen sitting in state, Bertran standing next her: then Teresa, etc.  She rises, and comes to the Front. Qu. 
Leonora to Bert. I blame not you, My Lord, my Father's will,  
Your own Deserts, and all my People's Voice,  
Have placed you in the view of Sovereign Power.  
But I would learn the cause, why Torrismond,  
Within my Palace Walls, within my Hearing,  
Almost within my Sight, affronts a Prince  
Who shortly shall command him.  Bertr. 
He thinks you owe him more than you can pay;  
And looks, as he were Lord of humane kind.  Enter Torrismond, Alphonso, Pedro. Torrismond bows low: then looks earnestly on the Queen, and keeps at distance. Teresa, 
Madam, The General.—  Qu. 
Let me view him well.  
My Father sent him early to the Frontiers;  
I have not often seen him; if I did,  
He passed unmarked by my unheeding Eyes.  
But where's the Fierceness, the Disdainful Pride;  
The Haughty Port, the Fiery Arrogance?  
By all these Marks, this is not sure the man.  Bertr. 
Yet this is he who filled your Court with Tumult,  
Whose Fierce Demeanour, and whose Insolence  
The Patience of a God could not support.  Qu. 
Name his Offence, My Lord, and he shall have  
Immediate punishment.  Bertr. 
'Tis of so high a nature, should I speak it,  
That my Presumption then would equal his.  Qu. 
Some one among you speak.  Ped. 
(Aside.) Now my Tongue itches.  Qu. 
All dumb! on your Allegiance, Torrismond,  
By all your hopes, I do command you, speak.  Torr. 
(kneeling.) O seek not to convince me of a Crime  
Which I can ne'er repent, nor can you pardon.  
Or, if you needs will know it, think, oh think,  
That he, who thus commanded dares to speak,  
Unless commanded, would have died in silence.  
But you adjured me, Madam, by my hopes!  
Hopes I have none; for I am all Despair:  
Friends I have none; for Friendship follows Favour.  
Desert I've none; for what I did, was Duty:  
Oh, that it were! that it were Duty all!  Qu. 
Why do you pause? proceed.  Torr. 
As one condemned to leap a Precipice,  
Who sees before his Eyes the Depth below,  
Stops short, and looks about, for some kind Shrub  
To break his dreadful Fall— so ay;—  
But whither am I going? if to Death,  
He looks so lovely sweet in Beauty's Pomp,  
He draws me to his Dart.— I dare no more.  Bertr. 
He's mad beyond the Cure of Hellebore.  
Whips, Darkness, Dungeons, for this Insolence.—  Torr. 
Mad as I am, yet I know when to bear.—  Qu. 
You're both too bold. You, Torrismond, withdraw:  
I'll teach you all what's owing to your Queen.  
For you, My Lord,—  
The Priest to morrow was to join our hands;  
I'll try if I can live a day without you.  
So, both of you depart; and live in Peace.  Alph. 
Who knows which way she points!  
Doubling and turning, like an hunted Hare.  
Find out the Meaning of her mind who can.  Pedr. 
Who ever found a Woman's! backward and forward, The whole Sex in every word. In my Conscience when she was getting, her Mother was thinking of a Riddle.  [Exeunt all, but the Queen and Teresa. Queen, 
Hast, my Teresa, hast; and call him back.  Teresa, 
Whom, Madam?  (Queen,) 
Him.  (Ter.) 
Prince Bertran?  (Qu.) 
Torrismond.  
There is no other Herald  Ter. 
(Aside.) A rising Sun;  
Or I am much deceived.  [Exit Teresa. Queen, 
A change so swift, what heart did ever feel!  
It rushed upon me, like a mighty Stream,  
And bore me in a moment far from Shore.  
I've loved away myself: in one short hour  
Already am I gone an Age of Passion.  
Was it his Youth, his Valour, or Success?  
These might perhaps be found in other men.  
'Twas that respect; that awful homage paid me;  
That fearful Love which trembled in his Eyes;  
and, with a silent Earthquake, shook his Soul.  
But, when he spoke, what tender words he said!  
So softly, that, like flakes of feathered Snow,  
They melted as they fell.—  Enter Teresa, with Torrismond. Ter. 
He waits your pleasure.  Qu. 
'Tis well; retire— Oh Heaven's, that I must speak  
So distant from my heart—  (aside.) 
To Torr. How now! What Boldness brings you back again?  Torr. 
I heard 'twas your Command.  Qu. 
A fond mistake,  
To credit so unlikely a Command.  
And you return full of the same Presumption  
T'affront me with your Love?  Torr. 
If 'tis Presumption for a Wretch condemned  
To throw himself beneath his Judge's feet:  
A Boldness, more than this, I never knew;  
Or, if I did, 'twas only to your Foes.  Qu. 
You would insinuate your past Services;  
And those, I grant, were great: but you confess  
A Fault committed since, that cancels all.  Torr. 
And who could dare to disavow his Crime,  
When that, for which he is accused and seized,  
He bears about him still! my Eyes confess it.  
My every action speaks my heart aloud.  
But, oh, the Madness of my high attempt  
Speaks louder yet! and all together cry,  
I love and I despair.  Qu. 
Have you not heard,  
My Father, with his dying voice, bequeathed  
My Crown and me to Bertran? And dare you,  
A private man, presume to love a Queen?  Torr. 
That, that's the Wound! I see you set so high,  
As no Desert, or Services, can reach.  
Good heavens', why gave you me a Monarch's Soul,  
And crusted it with base Plebeian Clay!  
Why gave you me Desires of such extent,  
And such a Span to 'em 'em? Sure my lot  
By some o'er hasty Angel was misplaced  
In Fate's Eternal Volume!— But I rave,  
And, like a giddy Bird, in dead of night,  
Fly round the Fire that scorches me to death.  Qu. 
Yet, Torrismond, you've not so ill deserved,  
But I may give you Counsel for your Cure.  Torr. 
I cannot, nay, I wish not to be cured.  Qu. 
(aside.) Nor I, Heaven knows!  Torr. 
There is a Pleasure sure  
In being Mad, which none but Madmen know!  
Let me indulge it: let me gaze for ever!  
And, since you are too great to be beloved,  
Be greater, greater yet; and be adored.  Qu. 
These are the words which I must only hear  
From Bertran's mouth; they should displease from you;  
I say they should: but women are so vain,  
To like the Love, though they despise the Lover.  
Yet, that I may not send you from my sight  
In absolute despair— I pity you.  Torr. 
Am I then pitied! I have lived enough!  
Death, take me in this moment of my Joy;  
But when my Soul is plunged in long oblivion,  
Spare this one Thought: let me remember Pity;  
And so deceived, think all my life was blessed.  Qu. 
What if I add a little to my Alms?  
If that would help, I could cast in a Tear  
To your Misfortunes.—  Torr. 
A Tear! You have o'erbid all my past Sufferings,  
And all my future too!  Qu. 
Were I no Queen—  
Or you of Royal Blood—  Torr. 
What have I lost by my Fore-father's fault?  
Why was not I the Twenty'th by descent  
From a long restive race of droning Kings?  
Love! What a poor omnipotence hast thou  
When Gold and Titles buy thee?  Queen 
(sighs.) Oh, my torture!—  Torr. 
Might I presume, but, oh, I dare not hope  
That Sigh was added to your Alms for me!  Qu. 
I give you leave to guests; and not forbid you  
To make the best construction for your love.  
Be secret and discreet; these Fairy favours  
Are lost when not concealed;— provoke not Bertran.—  
Retire: I must no more but this,— Hope, Torrismond.  [Exit Queen. Torr. 
She bids me hope; oh heavens'; she pities me!  
And pity still foreruns approaching love;  
As Lightning does the Thunder! Tune your Harps  
Ye Angels to that sound; and thou, my Heart,  
Make room to entertain thy flowing Joy.  
Hence all my Grie●ss, and every anxious Care:  
One word, and one kind Glance, can cure despair.  [Exit Torrismond.  

SCENE, A Chamber.  A Table and Wine set out. Enter Lorenzo. Lor. 
This may hit, 'tis more than barely possible: for Friars have free admittance into every house. This jacobin, whom I have sent to, is her Confessor; and who can suspect a man of such Reverence for a Pimp? I'll try for once: I'll bribe him high: for commonly none love Money better than they who have made a Vow of Poverty.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
There's a huge fat religious Gentleman coming up, Sir, he says he's but a Friar, but he's big enough to be a Pope; his Gills are as rosy as a Turkeycock; his great Belly walks in state before him like an Harbinger; and his gouty Legs come limping after it: Never was such a Tun of Devotion seen.  Lor. 
Bring him in, and vanish.  [Exit Seru●nt. Enter Father Dominic. Lor. 
Welcome, Father.  Dom. 
Peace be here: I thought I had been sent for to a dying man; to have fitted him for another world.  Lor. 
No, Faith, Father, I was never for taking such long journeys. Repose yourself, I beseech you, Sir, if those spindle Legs of yours will carry you to the next Chair.  Dom. 
I am old, I am infirm, I must confess, with Fasting.  Lor. 
'Tis a sign by your wan Complexion, and your thin Jouls, Father. Come— to our better Acquaintance:— here's a Sovereign Remedy for Old Age and Sorrow.  [Drinks. Dom. 
The Looks of it are indeed alluring: I'll do you reason.  Lor. 
Is it to your Palate, Father?  [Drinks. Dom. 
Second thoughts, they say, are best: I'll consider of it once again.  [Drinks. 
It has a most delicious Flavour with it.  
Gad forgive me, I have forgotten to drink your health, Son, I am not used to be so unmannerly.  [Drinks again. Lor. 
No, I'll be sworn by what I see of you, you are not:— To the bottom.— I warrant him a true Churchman.— Now, Father, to our business, 'tis agreeable to your Calling; I intent to do an act of Charity.  Dom. 
And I love to hear of Charity; 'tis a comfortable subject.  Lor. 
Being in the late Battle, in great hazard of my Life, I recommended my person to good St. Dominic.  Dom. 
You could not have pitched upon a better: he's a sure Card: I never knew him fail his Votaries.  Lor. 
Troth I e'en made bold to strike up a bargain with him, that if I scaped with Life and Plunder, I would present some Brother of his Order with part of the Booty taken from the Infidels, to be employed in charitable uses.  Dom. 
There you hit him: St. Dominic loves Charity exceedingly: that Argument never fails with him.  Lor. 
The Spoils were mighty; and I scorn to wrong him of a Farthing. To make short my Story; I enquired among the jacobins for an Almoner, and the general Fame has pointed out your Reverence as the Worthiest man:— here are Fifty good Pieces in this Purse.  Dom. 
How, Fifty Pieces? 'tis too much, too much in Conscience.  Lor. 
Here; take 'em Father.  Dom. 
No, in troth, I dare not: do not tempt me to break my Vow of Poverty.  Lor. 
If you are modest, I must force you: for I am strongest.  Dom. 
Nay, if you compel me, there's no contending; but will you set your strength against a decrepit, poor, old man? [Takes the Purse. As I said, 'tis too great a Bounty; but St. Dominic shall owe you another Escape: I'll put him in mind of you.  Lor. 
If you please, Father, we will not trouble him till the next Battle. But you may do me a greater kindness, by conveying my Prayers to a Female Saint.  Dom. 
A Female Saint! good now, good now, how your Devotions jump with mine! I always loved the Female Saints.  Lor. 
I mean a Female, mortal, married-woman-Saint: Look upon the Superscription of this Note; you know Don Gomez his Wife.  [Gives him a Letter. Dom. 
Who, Donna Elvira? I think I have some reason: I am her Ghostly Father.  Lor. 
I have some business of Importance with her, which I have communicated in this Paper; but her Husband is so horribly given to be jealous.—  Dom. 
Ho, jealous? he's the very Quintessence of Jealousy: he keeps no Male Creature in his house: and from abroad he lettest no man come near her.  Lor. 
Excepting you, Father.  Dom. 
Me, I grant you: I am her Director and her Guide in spiritual Affairs. But he has his humours with me too: for t'other day, he called me False Apostle.  Lor. 
Did he so? that reflects upon you all: on my word, Father, that touches your copyhold. If you would do a meritorious Action, you might revenge the Church's Quarrel.— My Letter, Father—  Dom. 
Well, so far as a Letter, I will take upon me: for what can I refuse to a man so charitably given?  Lor. 
If you bring an Answer back, that Purse in your hand has a twin-brother, as like him as ever he can look: there are Fifty Pieces lie dormant in it, for more Charities.  Dom. 
That must not be: not a Farthing more upon my Priesthood.— But what may be the purport and meaning of this Letter; that I confess a little troubles me.  Lor. 
No harm, I warrant you.  Dom. 
Well, you are a charitable man; and I'll take your word: my comfort is, I know not the Contents; and so far I am blameless. But an Answer you shall have: though not for the sake of your Fifty Pieces more: I have sworn not to take them: they shall not be altogether Fifty:— your Mistress,— forgive me that I should call her your Mistress, I meant Elvira, lives but at next door; I'll visit her immediately: but not a word more of the Nine and forty Pieces.—  Lor. 
Nay, I'll wait on you down Stairs.— Fifty Pounds for the postage of a Letter! to send by the Church is certainly the dearest road in Christendom.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE, A Chamber.  Gomez, Elvira. Gom. 
Henceforth I banish Flesh and Wine: I'll have none stirring within these walls these twelve months.  Elvira, 
I care not; the sooner I am starved the sooner I am rid of Wedlock. I shall learn the knack to fast a days; you have used me to fasting nights already.  Gom. 
How the Gipsy answers me! Oh, 'tis a most notorious Hilding!  Elvira, 
(crying.) But was ever poor innocent Creature so hardly dealt with, for a little harmless Chat?  Gom. 
Oh, the Impudence of this wicked Sex! Lascivious Dialogues are innocent with you!  Elvi. 
Was it such a Crime to inquire how the Battle passed?  Gom. 
But that was not the business, Gentlewoman; you were not asking News of a Battle past; you were engaging for a Skirmish that was to come.  Elvi. 
An honest Woman would be glad to hear, that her Honour was safe, and her Enemies were slain.  Gom. 
in her tone. And to ask if he were wounded in your defence; and, in case he were, to offer yourself to be his Chirurgeon:— then, you did not describe your Husband to him, for a covetous, jealous, rich old Hunks.  Elvi. 
No, I need not: he describes himself sufficiently: but, in what Dream did I do this?  Gom. 
You walked in your Sleep, with your Eyes broad open, at noon of day; and dreamed you were talking to the foresaid purpose with one Colonel Hernando.—  Elvi. 
Who, Dear Husband, who?  Gom. 
What the Devil have I said? You would have farther Information, would you?  Elvi. 
No, but, my dear little old man, tell me now; that I may avoid him for your sake.  Gom. 
Get you up into your Chamber, Cockatrice; and there immure yourself: be confined, I say, during our Royal Pleasure: But, first, down on your marrowbones, upon your Allegiance; and make an Acknowledgement of your Offences; for I will have ample Satisfaction.  [Pulls her down. Elvi. 
I have done you no Injury, and therefore I'll make you no Submission: But I'll complain to my Ghostly Father.  Gom. 
Ay; There's your Remedy: When you receive condign Punishment, you run with open Mouth to your Confessor; that parcel of holy Guts and Garbage; he must chucle you and moan you: but I'll rid my hands of his Ghostly Authority [Enter Dominic.] one day, and make him know he's the Son of a— (sees him.) So;— no sooner conjure, but the Devil's in the Circle.—  Dom. 
Son of a what, Don Gomez?  Gom. 
Why, A Son of a Church, I hope there's no harm in that, Father.  Dom. 
I will lay up your words for you till time shall serve: and to morrow I enjoin you to Fast for Penance.  Gom. 
(Aside.) There's no harm in that; she shall fast too: Fasting saves Money.  Dom. 
to Elvira, What was the reason that I found you upon your Knees, in that unseemly posture?  Gom. 
(Aside.) O horrible! to find a woman upon her Knees, he says, is an unseemly posture; there's a Priest for you.  Elvi. 
to Dom. I wish, Father, you would give me an opportunity of entertaining you in private: I have somewhat upon my Spirits that presses me exceedingly.  Dom. 
(Aside.) This goes well: Gomez, stand you at distance,— farther yet,— stand out of ear-shot— I have somewhat to say to your Wife in private.  Gomez, 
(Aside.) Was ever man thus Priestridden? would the Steeple of his Church were in his Belly: I am sure there's room for it.  Elvi. 
I am ashamed to acknowledge my Infirmities; but you have been always an indulgent Father; and therefore I will venture, to— and yet I dare not.—  Dom. 
Nay, if you are bashful;— if you keep your wound from the knowledge of your Surgeon;—  Elvi. 
You know my Husband is a man in years; but he's my Husband; and therefore I shall be silent: but his Humours are more intolerable than his Age: he's grown so froward, so covetous, and so jealous, that he has turned my heart quite from him; and, if I durst confess it, has forced me to cast my Affections on another man.  Dom. 
Good:— hold, hold; I meant abominable:— pray Heaven this be my Colonel.  [Aside. Elvi. 
I have seen this man, Father; and have encouraged his Addresses: he's a young Gentleman, a Soldier, of a most winning Carriage; and what his Courtship may produce at last I know not; but I am afraid of my own frailty.  Dom. 
(aside.) 'Tis he for certain:— she has saved the Credit of my Function, by speaking first; now must I take Gravity upon me.  Gom. 
(aside.) This Whispering bodes me no good for certain; but he has me so plaguily under the lash, that I dare not interrupt him.  Dom. 
Daughter, Daughter, do you remember your matrimonial Vow?  Elvi. 
Yes, to my sorrow Father, I do remember it: a miserable woman it has made me: but you know, Father, a Marriage-vow is but a thing of course, which all women take when they would get a Husband.  Dom. 
A Vow is a very solemn thing: and 'tis good to keep it:— but, notwithstanding, it may be broken, upon some occasions.— Have you striven with all your might against this frailty?  Elvi. 
Yes, I have striven; but I found it was against the stream. Love, you know, Father, is a great Vow-maker; but he's a greater Vow-breaker.  Dom. 
'Tis your Duty to strive always: but, notwithstanding, when we have done our utmost, it extenuates the Sin.  Gom. 
I can hold no longer.— Now, Gentlewoman, you are confessing your Enormities; I know it by that hypocritical, down cast Look: enjoin her to sit bare upon a Bed of Nettles, Father; you can do no less in Conscience.  Dom. 
Hold your peace; are you growing malapert? will you force me to make use of my Authority? your Wife's a well-disposed and a virtuous Lady; I say it, In verbo Sacerdotis.  Elvi. 
I know not what to do, Father; I find myself in a most desperate Condition; and so is the Colonel for Love of me.  Dom. 
The Colonel, say you! I wish it be not the same young Gentleman I know: 'Tis a gallant young man, I must confess, worthy of any Lady's love in Christendom: in a lawful way I mean; of such a charming behaviour, so bewitching to a Woman's eye; and furthermore, so charitably given; by all good tokens, this must be my Colonel Hernando.  Elvi. 
Ay, and my Colonel too, Father: I am overjoyed; and are you then acquainted with him?  Dom. 
Acquainted with him! why, he haunts me up and down: and, I am afraid, it is for love of you: for he pressed a Letter upon me, within this hour, to deliver to you: I confess, I received it, lest he should send it by some other; but with full resolution never to put it into your hands.  Elvi. 
Oh, dear Father, let me have it, or I shall die.  Gom. 
(Whispering still.) A Pox of your close Committee! I'll listen I'm resolved:  (steals nearer.) Dom. 
Nay, If you are obstinately bent to see it,— use your discretion; but for my part, I wash my hands on't.— what make you listening there? get farther off; I preach not to thee, thou wicked Eavesdropper.  Elvi. 
I'll kneel down, Father, as if I were taking Absolution, if you'll but please to stand before me.  Dom. 
At your peril be it then. I have told you the ill Consequences; & liberavi animam meam.— Your Reputation is in danger, to say nothing of your Soul. Notwithstanding, when the Spiritual means have been applied, and fails: in that case, the Carnal may be used.— You are a tender Child, you are; and must not be put into Despair: your Heart is as soft and melting as your Hand.  He stroke her face; takes her by the hand; and gives the Letter. Gom. 
Hold, hold, Father; you go beyond your Commission: Palming is always held foul play amongst Gamesters.  Dom. 
Thus, good Intentions are misconstrued by wicked men: you will never be warned till you are excommunicate.  Gom. 
(Aside.) Ah, Devil on him; there's his hold! If there were no more in Excommunication then the Church's Censure, a Wise man would lick his Conscience whole with a wet finger: but, if I am excommunicate, I am outlawed; and then there's no calling in my Money.  Elvira, 
(rising,) I have read the Note, Father, and will send him an Answer immediately; for I know his Lodgings by his Letter.  Dom. 
I understand it not, for my part; but I wish your Intentions be honest. Remember, that Adultery, though it be a silent Sin, yet it is a crying Sin also. Nevertheless, If you believe absolutely he will die, unless you pity him: to save a man's Life is a point of Charity; and actions of Charity do alleviate, as I may say, and take off from the Mortality of the Sin. Farewell, Daughter. — Gomez, cherish your virtuous Wife; and thereupon I give you my Benediction:  (going.) Gom. 
Stay; I'll conduct you to the door,— that I may be sure you steal nothing by the way.— Friars wear not their long Sleeves for nothing.— Oh, 'tis a judas Iscariot.  [Exit, after the Friar. Elvi. 
This Friar is a comfortable man! He will understand nothing of the Business; and yet does it all.  
Pray Wives and Virgins, at your time of need,  
For a True Guide, of my Good Father's breed.  [Exit Elvira. 
The End of the Second Act.    

ACT III.  

SCENE, The Street.  Lorenzo, in Friar's habit, meeting Dominic. Lor. 
FAther Dominic, Father Dominic; Why in such hast man?  Dom. 
It should seem a brother of our Order.  Lor. 
No, Faith, I am only your brother in Iniquity: my holiness, like yours, is mere outside.  Dom. 
What! my noble Colonel in Metamorphosis! On what occasion are you transformed?  Lor. 
Love; Almighty Love; that which turned jupiter into a Town-bull, has transformed me into a Friar: I have had a Letter from Elvira, in answer to that I sent by you.  Dom. 
You see I have delivered my Message faithfully: I am a Friar of Honour where I am engaged.  Lor. 
O, I understand your Hint: the other Fifty pieces are ready to be condemned to Charity.  Dom. 
But this Habit, Son, this Habit!  Lor. 
'Tis a Habit that in all Ages has been friendly to Fornication: You have begun the Design in this Clothing, and I'll try to accomplish it. The Husband is absent; that evil Counsellor is removed; and the Sovereign is graciously disposed to hear my grievances.  Dom. 
Go to; go to; I find good Counsel is but thrown away upon you: Fare you well, fare you well, Son! ah—  Lor. 
How! Will you turn Recreant at the last cast? You must along to countenance my undertaking; We are at the door man.  Dom. 
Well, I have thought on't; and I will not go.  Lor. 
You may stay, Father, but no Fifty, pounds without it: that was only promised in the Bond: but the Condition of this Obligation is such, That if the above named Father, Father Dominic, do not well and faithfully, perform—  Dom. 
Now I better think on't, I will bear you company; for the Reverence of my Presence may be a curb to your E●orbitancieses.  Lor. 
Lead up your Myrmidon, and enter.  [Exeunt. Enter Elvira, in her Chamber. Elvi. 
He'll come, that's certain: young Appetites are sharp; and seldom need twice bidding to such a banquet:— well; if I prove frail, as I hope I shall not, till I have compassed my Design; never Woman had such a Husband to provoke her, such a Lover to allure her, or such a Confessor to absolve her. Of what am I afraid then? not my Conscience, that's safe enough; my Ghostly Father has given it a Dose of Church Opium, to lull it: well, for soothing Sin, I'll say that for him, he's a Chaplain for any Court in Christendom.  Enter Lorenzo and Dominic. 
O, Father Dominic, what News? How, a Companion with you! What Game have you in hand, that you hunt in Couples?  Lor. 
(lifting up his hood.) I'll show you that immediately.  Elvi. 
O, my Love!  Lor. 
My Life!  Elvi. 
My Soul!  (They embrace.) Dom. 
I am taken on the sudden with a grievous swimming in my Head, and such a mist before my Eyes, that I can neither hear nor see.  Elvi. 
Stay, and I'll fetch you some comfortable Water.  Dom. 
No, no; nothing but the open Air will do me good. I'll take a turn in your Garden: but remember that I trust you both, and do not wrong my good opinion of you.  [Exit Dominic. Elvi. 
This is certainly the dust of Gold which you have thrown in the good man's eyes, that on the sudden he cannot see: for my mind misgives me, this Sickness of his is but Apocryphal!  Lor. 
'Tis no Qualm of Conscience I'll be sworn: you see, Madam, 'tis Interest governs all the World: he preaches against Sin; why? because he gets by't: he holds his tongue; why? because so much more is bidden for his silence.  Elvi. 
And so much for the Friar.  Lor. 
Oh, those Eyes of yours reproach me justly: that I neglect the subject which brought me hither.  Elvi. 
Do you consider the hazard I have run to see you here? if you do, methinks it should inform you, that I love not at a common rate.  Lor. 
Nay, if you talk of considering; let us consider why we are alone. Do you think the Friar left us together to tell Beads? Love is a kind of penurious God, very niggardly of his opportunities, he must be watched like a hard-hearted Treasurer, for he bolts out on the sudden, and, if you take him not in the nick, he vanishes in a twinkling.  Elvi. 
Why do you make such haste to have done loving me? You Men are all like Watches, wound up for striking twelve immediately; but, after you are satisfied, the very next that follows is the solitary sound of single one.  Lor. 
How, Madam! Do you invite me to a Feast, and then preach Abstinence?  Elvi. 
No, I invite you to a Feast where the Dishes are served up in order: you are for making a hasty meal, and for chopping up your entertainment, like an hungry Clown: trust my management, good Colonel; and call not for your Dessert too soon: believe me, that which comes last, as it is the sweetest, so it cloies the soon.  Lor. 
I perceive, Madam, by your holding me at this distance, that there is somewhat you expect from me: what am I to undertake or suffer e'er I can be happy?  Elvi. 
I must first be satisfied that you love me.  Lor. 
By all that's Holy: By these dear Eyes.  Elvi. 
Spare your Oaths and Protestations; I know you Gallants of the time have a mint at your tongues end to coin them.  Lor. 
You know you cannot marry me: but, By heavens, if you were in a condition—  Elvi. 
Then you would not be so prodigal of your Promises, but have the Fear of Matrimony before your eyes: in few words, if you love me, as you profess, deliver me from this Bondage, take me out of Egypt, and I'll wander with you as far as Earth, and Seas, and Love can carry us.  Lor. 
I never was out at a mad Frolic, though this is the maddest I ever undertook; have with you, Lady mine; I take you at your word; and, if you are for a merry Jaunt, I'll try for once who can foot it farthest: there are Hedges in Summer, and Barns in Winter to be found: I, with my Knapsack, and you, with your Bottle at your back: we'll leave Honour to Madmen, and Riches to Knaves; and travel till we come to the Ridge of the World, and then drop together into the next.  Elvi. 
Give me your Hand, and strike a Bargain.  [He takes her Hand, and kisses it. Lor. 
In sign and token whereof the Parties interchangeably, and so forth— when should I be weary of Sealing upon this Soft- wax?  Elvi. 
O, Heavens! I hear my Husband's voice.  Enter Gomez. Gom. 
Where are you, Gentlewoman? there's something in the wind I'm sure, because your Woman would have run up Stairs before me: but I have secured her below with a Gag in her Chaps— now, in the Devil's name, what makes this Friar here again? I do not like these frequent Conjunctions of the Flesh and Spirit; they are boding.  Elvi. 
Go hence, good Father; my Husband you see is in an ill humour; and I would not have you witness of his folly.  [Lorenzo going. Gomez, 
(running to the door,) By your Reverence's favour, hold a little, I must examine you something better before you go: Hi-day! who have we here? Father Dominic is shrunk in the wetting two yards and a half about the Belly: what are become of those two Timber-loggs that he used to wear for Legs, that stood strutting like the two black Posts before a door? I am afraid some bad body has been setting him over a Fire in a great Cauldron, and boiled him down half the quantity for a Receipt: this is no Father Dominic, no huge, overgrown Abbey-lubber; this is but a diminutive sucking Friar: as sure as a Gun now, Father Dominic has been spawning this young, slender Anti-christ.  Elvi. 
(aside,) He will be found; there's no prevention.  Gomez, 
Why does he not speak? What! Is the Friar possessed with a dumb Devil? If he be, I shall make bold to conjure him.  Elvi. 
He's but a Novice in his Order, and is enjoined Silence for a Penance.  Gomez, 
A Novice, quoth a; You would make a Novice of me too, if you could: but, What was his business here? Answer me that, Gentlewoman, answer me that.  Elvi. 
What should it be, but to give me some Spiritual Instructions?  Gom. 
Very good; and you are like to edify much from a dumb Preacher; this will not pass; I must examine the Contents of him a little closer; O thou Confessor! confess who thou art, or thou art no Friar of this World: He comes to Lorenzo, who struggles with him; his habit flies open, and discovers a Sword: Gomez starts back. As I live, this is a manifest member of the Church militant.  Lor. 
(Aside.) I am discovered; now Impudence be my Refuge— Yes, Faith 'tis I, honest Gomez; thou seest I use thee like a Friend; this is a familiar Visit.  Gom. 
What! Colonel Hernando turned a Friar! who could have suspected you for so much Godliness?  Lor. 
E'en as thou seest, I make bold here.  Gom. 
A very frank manner of proceeding; but I do not wonder at your Visit, after so friendly an Invitation as I made you; marry, I hope you will excuse the Blunderbusses for not being in readiness to salute you; but let me know your hour, and all shall be mended another time.  Lor. 
Hang it; I hate such ripping up of old unkindness; was upon the Frolic this evening, and came to visit thee in Masquerade.  Gom. 
Very likely; and not finding me at home, you were forced to toy away an hour with my Wife, or so.  Lor. 
Right: Thou speakest my very Soul.  Gom. 
Why, am not I a Friend then, to help you out? you would have been fumbling half an hour for this Excuse—- but, as I remember, you promised to storm my Citadel, and bring your Regiment of Red Locusts upon me for Free quarter: I find, Colonel, by your Habit, there are Black Locusts in the World as well as Red.  Elvi. 
(Aside.) When comes my share of the reckoning to be called for?  Lor. 
Give me thy Hand; Thou art the honestest, kind man; I was resolved I would not out of thy house till I had seen thee.  Gom. 
No, in my Conscience, if I had stayed abroad till midnight. But, Colonel, you and I shall talk in another tone hereafter; I mean, in cold friendship, at a Bar, before a Judge, by the way of Plaintiff and Defendant: your Excuses want some grains to make 'em currant: hum and ha will not do the business— there's a modest Lady of your acquaintance, she has so much Grade to make none at all, but silently to confess the Power of Dame Nature working in her Body to Youthful Appetite.  Elvi. 
How he got in I know not, unless it were by virtue of his Habit.  Gom. 
Ai, ai, the Virtues of that Habit are known abundantly.  Elvi. 
I could not hinder his entrance, for he took me unprovided.  Gom. 
To resist him.  Elvi. 
I'm sure he has not been here above a quarter of an hour.  Gom. 
And a quarter of that time would have served the turn: O thou epitome of thy virtuous Sex! Madam Messalina the Second retire to thy Apartment: I have an Assignation there to make with thee.  Elvi. 
I am all Obedience—  [Exit Elvira. Lor. 
I find, Gomez, you are not the man I thought you: we may meet before we come to the Bar, we may, and our Differences may be decided by other Weapons then by Lawyer's tongues; in the mean time, no ill treatment of your Wife, as you hope to die a natural death, and go to Hell in your Bed: Bilbo is the word, remember that, and tremble—  [He's going out. Enter Dominic. Dom. 
Where is this naughty Couple? where are you, in the name of Goodness? my mind misgave me; and I durst trust you no longer with yourselves; here will be fine work, I'm afraid, at your next Confession.  Lor. 
(Aside.) The Devil is punctual, I see, he has paid me the shame he owed me; and now the Friar is coming in for his part too.  Dom. 
(Seeing Gom.) Bless my Eyes! what do I see?  Gom. 
Why; you see a Cuckold of this honest Gentleman's making: I thank him for his pains.  Dom. 
I confess I am astonished!  Gom. 
What, at a Cuckoldom of your own contrivance! your Head-piece and his Limbs have done my business.— Nay, do not look so strangely, remember your own words, Here will be fine work at your next Confession: What naughty Couple were they whom you durst not trust together any longer? when the hypocritical Rogue had trusted 'em a full quarter of an hour; and, by the way, horns will sprout in less time than Mushrooms.  Dom. 
Beware how you accuse one of my Order upon light suspicions: the naughty Couple that I meant, were your Wife and you, whom I left together with great Animosities on both sides: now, that was the occasion, mark me Gomez, that I thought it convenient to return again, and not to trust your enraged Spirits too long together: you might have broken out into Revilings and matrimonial Warfare, which are Sins; and new Sins make work for new Confessions.  Lor. 
(Aside.) Well said, I saith, Friar; thou art come off thyself, but poor I am left in Limbo.  Gom. 
Angle in some other Ford, good Father, you shall catch no Gudgeons here: look upon the Prisoner at the Bar Friar, and inform the Court what you know concerning him; he is arraigned here by the name of Colonel Hernando.  Dom. 
What Colonel do you mean, Gomez? I see no man, but a Reverend Brother of our Order, whose Profession I honour, but whose person I know not, as I hope for Paradise.  Gom. 
No, you are not acquainted with him, the more's the pity; you do not know him, under this Disguise, for the greatest Cuckold-maker in all Spain.  Dom. 
O Impudence! O Rogue! O Vilain! Nay, if he be such a man, my Righteous Spirit rises at him! Does he put on Holy Garments for a cover-shame of Lewdness?  Gom. 
Yes, and he's in the right on't, Father; when a swingeing Sin is to be committed, nothing will cover it so close as a Fryar's Hood: for there the Devil plays at Bopeep, puts out his Horns to do a mischief, and then shrinks 'em back for safety, like a Snail into her shell.  Lor. 
(Aside.) It's best marching off while I can retreat with Honour; there's no trusting this Fryar's Conscience; he has renounced me already more heartily than e'er he did the Devil, and is in a fair way to prosecute me for putting on these Holy Robes: this is the old Church-trick, the Clergy is ever at the bottom of the Plot, but they are wise enough to slip their own Necks out of the Choler, and leave the Laity to be fairly hanged for it—  [Exit Lorenzo. Gom. 
Follow your Leader, Friar; your Colonel is trooped off, but he had not gone so easily, if I durst have trusted you in the house behind me; gather up your gouty Legs, I say, and rid my house of that huge Body of divinity.  Dom. 
I expect some judgement should fall upon you for your want of Reverence to your Spiritual Director: Slander, Covetousness, and Jealousy, will weigh thee down.  Gom. 
Put Pride, Hypocrisy, and Gluttony, into your Scale, Father, and you shall weigh against me: nay, and Sins come to be divided once, the Clergy puts in for nine parts, and scarce leaves the Laity a tithe.  Dom. 
How darest thou reproach the Tribe of Levi?  Gom. 
Marry, because you make us Laymen of the Tribe of Issachar: you make Asses of us, to bear your burdens: when we are young, you put Paniers upon us, with your Church discipline; and, when we are grown up, you load us with a Wife: after that, you procure for other men, and then you load our Wives too; a fine phrase you have amongst you to draw us into Marriage, you call it Settling of a man; just as when a fellow has got a sound Knock upon the head, they say he's settled: Marriage is a Settling blow indeed. They say every thing in the World is good for something, as a Toad, to suck up the Venom of the Earth; but I never knew what a Friar was good for till your Pimping showed me.  Dom. 
Thou shalt answer for this, thou Slanderer, thy Offences be upon thy head.  Gom. 
I believe there are some Offences there of your planting. [Exit Dominic. Lord, Lord, that men should have sense enough to set Snares in their Warrens to catch Polecats, and Foxes, and yet—  
Want wit a Priest-trap at their door to lay,  
For holy Vermin that in houses prey.  [Exit Gomez.  

SCENE, A Bedchamber.  Queen, Teresa. Ter. 
You are not what you were since yesterday:  
Your food forsakes you and your needful rest:  
You pine, you languish, love to be alone;  
Think much, speak little; and, in speaking, sigh.  
When you see Torrismond, you are unquiet;  
But when you see him not, you are in pain.  Queen, 
O, let 'em never love, who never tried!  
They brought a Paper to me to be signed;  
Thinking on him, I quite forgot my name;  
And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond.  
I went to bed, and to myself I thought,  
That I would think on Torrismond no more:  
Then shut my Eyes; but could not shut out him.  
I turned; and tried each corner of my Bed,  
To find if Sleep were there, but Sleep was lost.  
Fev'rish, for want of Rest, I rise, and walked;  
And, by the Moonshine, to the Windows went;  
There, thinking to exclude him from my thoughts,  
I cast my eyes upon the neighbouring fields,  
And, e'er I was aware, sighed to myself,  
There fought my Torrismond.  Ter. 
What hinders you to take the Man you love?  
The People will be glad, the Soldier shout;  
And Bertran, though repining, will be awed.  Qu. 
I fear to try new Love,  
As boys to venture on the unknown Ice,  
That crackles underneath 'em, while they slide.  
Oh, how shall I describe this growing ill!  
Betwixt my Doubt and Love, methinks, I stand  
Altering, like one that waits an Ague fit;  
And yet, would this were all!  Ter. 
What fear you more?  Qu. 
I am ashamed to say, 'tis but a fancy.  
At break of day, when Dreams, they say, are true,  
A drowsy slumber, rather than a sleep,  
Seized on my Senses, with long Watching worn.  
Methought I stood on a wide River's Bank,  
Which I must needs o'erpass, but knew not how:  
When, on a sudden Torrismond appeared,  
Gave me his hand, and led me lightly o'er;  
Leaping and bounding on the Billows heads,  
Till safely we had reached the farther shore.  Ter. 
This Dream portends some ill which you shall scape.  
Would you see fairer Visions? Take this night  
Your Torrismond within your Arms to sleep:  
And, to that end, invent some apt pretence  
To break with Bertran: 'twould be better yet,  
Could you provoke him to give you th' occasion,  
And then to throw him off.  Enter Bertran at a distance. Qu. 
My Stars have sent him:  
For, see, he comes: how gloomily he looks!  
If he, as I suspect, have sound my Love,  
His Jealousy will furnish him with Fury,  
And me with means to part.  Bertr. 
(Aside.) Shall I upbraid her? Shall I call her false?  
If she be false, 'tis what she most desires.  
My Genius whispers me, Be cautious, Bertran!  
Thou walkest as on a narrow Mountain's neck,  
A dreadful height, with scanty room to tread.  Qu. 
What Business have you at the Court, my Lord?  Bert. 
What Business, Madam?  Qu. 
Yes, my Lord, What Business?  
'Tis somewhat sure of weighty consequence  
That brings you here so often, and unsent for.  Bert. 
(Aside.) 'Tis what I feared, her words are cold enough  
To freeze a man to death.— May I presume  
To speak, and to complain?  Qu. 
They who complain to Princes think 'em tame:  
What Bull dare bellow, or, what Sheep dares bleat,  
Within the Lion's den?  Bert. 
Yet men are suffered to put Heaven in mind  
Of promised Blessings, for they then are Debts.  Qu. 
My Lord, Heaven knows its own time when to give;  
But you, it seems, charge me with Breach of Faith.  Bert. 
I hope I need not, Madam:  
But as when men in Sickness lingering lie,  
They count the tedious hours by months and years;  
So every day deferred to Dying Lovers  
Is a whole Age of pain.  Qu. 
What if I ne'er consent to make you mine?  
My Father's Promise ties me not to time;  
And Bonds, without a Date, they say, are void.  Bert. 
Far be it from me to believe you bound:  
Love is the freest motion of our minds:  
O, could you see into my secret Soul,  
There you might read your own Dominion doubled,  
Both as a Queen and Mistress: if you leave me,  
Know I can die, but dare not be displeased.  Qu. 
Sure you affect Stupidity, my Lord,  
Or give me cause to think that when you lost  
Three Battles to the Moors, you coldly stood  
As unconcerned as now.  Bert. 
I did my best;  
Fate was not in my power.  Qu. 
And with the like tame Gravity you saw  
A raw young Warrior take your baffled work  
And end it at a blow.  Bert. 
I humbly take my leave; but they who blast  
Your good opinion of me, may have cause  
To know I am no Coward.  [He is going. Qu. 
Bertran, stay;  
(Aside.) This may produce some dismal consequence  
To him whom dearer than my Life I love.  
To him. Have I not managed my contrivance well,  
To try your Love, and make you doubt of mine?  Bert. 
Then was it but a Trial?  
Methinks I start as from some dreadful Dream;  
And often ask myself, if yet I wake.  
(Aside.) This turns too quick to be without Design;  
I'll sound the bottom of't e'er I believe.  Qu. 
I find your Love; and would reward it too,  
But anxious Fears solicit my weak breast:  
I fear my People's Faith:  
That hot mouthed Beast that bears against the Curb,  
Hard to be broken even by lawful Kings;  
But harder by Usurpers:  
Judge then, my Lord, with all these Cares oppressed,  
If I can think of Love.  Bert. 
Believe me, Madam,  
These Jealousies, how ever large they spread,  
Have but one Root, the old, imprisoned King;  
Whose Lenity first pleased the gaping Crowd:  
But when long tried, and found supinely good,  
Like Aesop's Log, they leapt upon his Back:  
Your Father knew 'em well; and when he mounted,  
He reined 'em strongly and he spurred them hard;  
And, but he durst not do it all at once,  
He had not left alive this patient Saint,  
This Anvil of Affronts, but sent him hence,  
To hold a peaceful Branch of Palm above,  
And hymn it in the Quire.  Qu. 
You 've hit upon the very String, which touched,  
Echoes the Sound and Jars within my Soul;  
There lies my Grief.  Bert. 
So long as there's a Head,  
Thither will all the mounting Spirits fly;  
Lop that but off; and then—  Qu. 
My Virtue shrinks from such an horrid Act.  Bert. 
This 'tis to have a Virtue out of season.  
Mercy is good; a very good dull Virtue;  
But Kings mistake its timeing; and are mild,  
When manly Courage bids 'em be severe:  
Better be cruel once then anxious ever:  
Remove this threatning Danger from your Crown;  
And then securely take the man you love.  Qu. 
(walking aside.) Ha! let me think of that: the Man I love?  
'Tis true, this Murder is the only means  
That can secure my Throne to Torrismond.  
Nay more, this Execution done by Bertran,  
Makes him the Object of the People's Hate.  Bert. 
(Aside.) The more she thinks, 'twill work the stronger in her.  Qu. 
(Aside.) How eloquent is Mischief to persuade!  
Few are so wicked as to take delight  
In Crimes unprofitable, nor do I:  
If then I break divine and humane Laws,  
No Bribe but Love could gain so bad a Cause.  Bert. 
You answer nothing!  Qu. 
'Tis of deep Concernment,  
And I a Woman ignorant and weak:  
I leave it all to you, think what you do,  
You do for him I love.  Bert. 
(Aside.) For him she loves?  
She named not me; that may be Torrismond,  
Whom she has thrice in private seen this day:  
Then I am fairly caught in my own Snare.  
I'll think again— Madam, it shall be done;  
And mine be all the blame.  [Exit Bertr. Qu. 
O, that it were! I would not do this Crime,  
And yet, like Heaven, permit it to be done.  
The Priesthood grossly cheat us with freewill:  
Will to do what, but what Heaven first decreed?  
Our Actions then are neither good nor ill,  
Since from eternal Causes they proceed:  
Our Passions, Fear and Anger, Love and Hate,  
Mere senseless Engines that are moved by Fate;  
Like Ships on stormy Seas, without a Guide,  
Tossed by the Winds, and driven by the Tide.  Enter Torrismond. Tor. 
Am I not rudely bold, and press too often  
Into your presence, Madam? If I am—  Qu. 
No more; lest I should chide you for your stay:  
Where have you been? and, How could you suppose  
That I could live these two long hours without you?  Tor. 
O, words to charm an Angel from his orb!  
Welcome, as kindly Showers to long parched Earth!  
But I have been in such a dismal place  
Where Joy ne'er enters, which the Sun ne'er cheers:  
Bound in with Darkness, overspread with Damps:  
Where I have seen (if I could say, I saw)  
The good old King majestic in his Bonds,  
And 'midst midst his Griefs most venerably great:  
By a dim winking Lamp, which feebly broke  
The gloomy Vapours, he lay stretched along  
Upon the unwholesome Earth; his Eyes fixed upward:  
And ever and anon a silent Tear  
Stole down and trickled from his hoary Beard.  Qu. 
O Heaven, what have I done! my gentle Love,  
Here end thy sad discourse, and, for my sake,  
Cast off these fearful melancholy thoughts.  Tor. 
My Heart is withered at that piteous Sight,  
As early Blossoms are with Eastern blasts:  
He sent for me, and, while I raised his Head,  
He threw his aged Arms about my Neck;  
And, seeing that I wept, he pressed me close:  
So, leaning Cheek to Cheek and Eyes to Eyes,  
We mingled Tears in a dumb Scene of Sorrow.  Qu. 
Forbear: you know not how you wound my Soul.  Tor. 
Can you have Grief, and not have Pity too?  
He told me, when my Father did return,  
He had a wondrous Secret to disclose:  
He kissed me, blessed me, nay, he called me Son;  
He praised my Courage, prayed for my Success:  
He was so true a Father of his Country,  
To thank me for defending even his Foes,  
Because they were his Subjects.  Qu. 
If they be; then what am I?  Tor. 
The Sovereign of my Soul, my Earthly Heaven.  Qu. 
And not your Queen?  Tor. 
You are so beautiful,  
So wondrous fair, you justify Rebellion:  
As if that faultless Face could make no Sin,  
But Heaven, with looking on it, must forgive.  Qu. 
The King must die, he must, my Torrismond;  
Though Pity softly plead within my Soul,  
Yet he must die, that I may make you great,  
And give a Crown in dowry with my Love.  Tor. 
Perish that Crown— on any Head but yours;—  
O, recollect your Thoughts!  
Shake not his Hour glass, when his hasty Sand  
Is ebbing to the last:  
A little longer, yet a little longer,  
And Nature drops him down, without your Sin,  
Like mellow Fruit, without a Winter Storm.  Qu. 
Let me but do this one Injustice more:  
His Doom is past; and, for your sake, he dies.  Tor. 
Would you, for me, have done so ill an Act,  
And will not do a good one?  
Now, By your Joys on Earth, your Hopes in Heaven,  
O spare this Great, this Good, this Aged King;  
And spare your Soul the Crime!  Qu. 
The Crime's not mine;  
'Twas first proposed, and must be done, by Bertran,  
Fed with false hopes to gain my Crown and Me:  
I, to enhance his Ruin, gave no leave;  
But barely bade him think, and then resolve.  Tor. 
In not forbidding, you command the Crime;  
Think, timely think, on the last dreadful day;  
How will you tremble there to stand exposed,  
And foremost in the rank of guilty Ghosts  
That must be doomed for Murder; think on Murder:  
That Troop is placed apart from common Crimes;  
The damned themselves start wide, and shun that Band,  
As far more black and more forlorn than they.  Qu. 
'Tis terrible, it shakes, it staggers me;  
I knew this Truth, but I repelled that Thought;  
Sure there is none but fears a future state;  
And, when the most obdurate swear they do not,  
Their trembling Hearts belly their boasting Tongues.  Enter Teresa. 
Send speedily to Bertran; charge him strictly  
Not to proceed, but wait my farther Pleasure.  Ter. 
Madam, he sends to tell you, 'tis performed.  [Exit Teresa. Tor. 
Ten thousand Plagues consume him, Furies drag him,  
Fiend's tear him; Blasted be the Arm that struck,  
The Tongue that ordered;— Only She be spared  
That hindered not the Deed. O, where was then  
The Power that guards the Sacred Lives of Kings?  
Why slept the Lightning and the Thunderbolts,  
Or bent their idle rage on Fields and Trees,  
When Vengeance called 'em here?  Qu. 
Sleep that Thought too,  
'Tis done, and since 'tis done, 'tis past recall:  
And since 'tis past recall, must be forgotten.  Tor. 
O, never, never, shall it be forgotten;  
High Heaven will not forget it, after Ages  
Shall with a fearful Curse remember ours;  
And Blood shall never leave the Nation more!  Qu. 
His Body shall be Royally interred,  
And the last Funeral Pomps adorn his Hearse;  
I will myself (as I have Cause too just)  
Be the chief Mourner at his Obsequies:  
And yearly fix on the revolving day  
The solemn marks of Mourning, to atone  
And expiate my Offences.  Tor. 
Nothing can,  
But Bloody Vengeance on that Traitor's Head,  
Which, dear departed Spirit, here I vow.  Qu. 
Here end our Sorrows, and begin our Joys:  
Love calls, my Torrismond; though Hate has raged  
And ruled the day, yet Love will rule the night.  
The spiteful Stars have shed their Venom down,  
And now the peaceful Planets take their turn.  
This Deed of Bertran's has removed all Fears,  
And given me just occasion to refuse him.  
What hinders now, but that the holy Priest  
In secret join our mutual Vows? and then  
This night, this happy night, is yours and mine.  Tor. 
Be still my Sorrows; and, be loud my Joys.  
Fly to the utmost Circles of the Sea  
Thou furious Tempest that hast tossed my mind,  
And leave no thought, but Leonora, there.—  
What's this I feel aboding in my Soul?  
As if this day were fatal; be it so;  
Fate shall but have the Leavings of my love:  
My Joys are gloomy, but withal are great;  
The Lion, though he see the Toils are set,  
Yet, pinched with raging Hunger, scowrs away,  
Hunts in the Face of Danger all the day;  
At night, with sullen pleasure, grumbles o'er his Prey.  [Exeunt ambo. 
The End of the Third Act.    

ACT IU.  

SCENE, Before Gomez his Door.  Enter Lorenzo, Dominic, and two Soldiers at a distance. Dom. 
I'LL not wag an ace farther: The whole World shall not bribe me to it; for my Conscience will digest these gross Enormities no longer.  Lor. 
How, thy Conscience not 'em 'em! There's ne'er a Friar in Spain can show a Conscience that comes near it for Digestion: it digested Pimping when I sent thee with my Letter: and it digested Perjury when thou sworest thou didst not know me: I'm sure it has digested me Fifty pound of as hard Gold as is in all Barbary: Prithee, why shouldst thou discourage Fornication, when thou knowest thou lovest a sweet young Girl?  Dom. 
Away, away; I do not love 'em;— phau; no,— spits. I do not love a pretty Girl;— you are so waggish;— spits again.  Lor. 
Why, thy mouth waters at the very mention of them.  Dom. 
You take a mighty pleasure in Defamation, Colonel; but I wonder what you find in running restless up and down, breaking your Brains, emptying your Purse, and wearing out your Body with hunting after unlawful Game.  Lor. 
Why there's the Satisfaction on't.  Dom. 
This Incontinency may proceed to Adultery, and Adultery to Murder, and Murder to Hanging; and there's the Satisfaction on't.  Lor. 
I'll not hang along, Friar; I'm resolved to peach thee before thy Superiors for what thou hast done already.  Dom. 
ay 'em resolved to forswear it if you do: Let me advise you better, Colonel, then to accuse a Churchman to a Churchman: in the common Cause we are all of a piece; we hang together.  Lor. 
(Aside.) If you done't, it were no matter if you did.  Dom. 
Nay, if you talk of Peaching, I'll peach first, and see whose Oath will be believed; I'll trounce you for offering to corrupt my Honesty, and bribe my Conscience: you shall be summoned by an host of Paratours; you shall be sentenced in the Spiritual Court; you shall be excommunicated; you shall be outlawed;— and—  Here Lorenzo takes a Purse, and plays with it, and, at last, let's the Purse fall chinking on the ground; which the Friar eyes. 
In another tone. I say a man might do this now, if he were maliciously disposed, and had a mind to bring matters to extremity; but, considering that you are my Friend, a Person of Honour, and a worthy good charitable Man, I would rather die a thousand deaths then disoblige you.  Lorenzo takes up the Purse, and pours it into the Fryar's sleeve. 
Nay, Good Sir; nay, Dear Colonel; O Lord, Sir, what are you doing now! I profess this must not be: without this I would have served you to the uttermost; pray command me: a jealous, foul-mouthed Rogue this Gomez is: I saw how he used you, and you marked how he used me too: O he's a bitter man; but we'll join our Forces; ah, shall we, Colonel? we'll be revenged on him with a witness.  Lor. 
But how shall I send her word to be ready at the door, (for I must reveal it in Confession to you,) that I mean to carry her away this evening, by the help of these two Soldiers? I Know Gomez suspects you, and you will hardly gain admittance.  Dom. 
Let me alone; I fear him not; I am armed with the Authority of my clothing; yonder I see him keeping Sentry at his door: have you never seen a Citizen, in a cold morning, clapping his sides, and walking forward and backward a mighty pace before his Shop? but I'll gain the Pass in spite of his suspicion; stand you aside, and do but mark how I accost him.  Lor. 
If he meet with a repulse, we must throw off the Foxe's skin, and put on the Lion's, come, Gentlemen, you'll stand by me. Soldier, Do not doubt us, Colonel.  They retire all three to a corner of the Stage, Dominic goes to the door where Gomez stands. Dom. 
Good even Gomez, how does your Wife?  Gom. 
Just as you would have her, thinking no nothing, but her dear Colonel, and conspiring Cuckoldom against me.  Dom. 
I dare say you wrong her, she is employing her thoughts how to cure you of your jealousy.  Gom. 
Yes, by Certainty.  Dom. 
By your leave, Gomez; I have some Spiritual Advice to impart to her on that Subject.  Gom. 
You may spare your Instructions if you please, Father, She has no farther need of them.  Dom. 
How, no need of them! Do you speak in Riddles?  Gom. 
Since you will have me speak plainer; she has profited so well already by your Counsel, that she can say her Lesson without your teaching: Do you understand me now?  Dom. 
I must not neglect my duty, for all that; once again, Gomez, by your leave.  Gom. 
She's a little indisposed at present, and it will not be convenient to disturb her.  Dominic offers to go by him, but t'other stands before him. Dom. 
Indisposed, say you? O, it is upon those occasions that a Confessor is most necessary; I think it was my good Angel that sent me hither so opportunely.  Gom. 
Ay, whose good Angels sent you hither, that you best know, Father.  Dom. 
A word or two of Devotion will do her no harm I'm sure.  Gom. 
A little Sleep will do her more good I'm sure: You know she disburdened her Conscience but this morning to you.  Dom. 
But, if she be ill this afternoon, she may have new occasion to confess.  Gom. 
Indeed, as you order matters with the Colonel, she may have occasion of confessing herself every hour.  Dom. 
Pray, how long has she been sick?  Gom. 
Lord, you will force a man to speak; why ever since your last Defeat.  Dom. 
This can be but some light Indisposition, it will not last, and I may see her.  Gom. 
How, not last! I say, It will last, and it shall last; she shall be sick these seven or eight days, and perhaps longer, as I see occasion: what; I know the mind of her Sickness a little better than you do.  Dom. 
I find then, I must bring a Doctor.  Gom. 
And he'll bring an Apothecary with a chargeable long bill of Ana's: those of my Family have the Grace to die cheaper: in a word, Sir Dominic, we understand one another's business here; I am resolved to stand like the Swiss of my own Family, to defend the entrance; you may mumble over your Pater Nosters if you please, and try if you can make my doors fly open, and batter down my walls with Bell, Book, and Candle; but I am not of opinion that you are holy enough to commit Miracles.  Dom. 
Men of my Orders are not to be treated after this manner.  Gom. 
I would treat the Pope and all his Cardinals in the same manner, if they offered to see my Wife without my leave.  Dom. 
I excommunicate thee from the Church, if thou dost not open, there's Promulgation coming out.  Gom. 
And I excommunicate you from my Wife, if you go to that; there's Promulgation for Promulgation, and Bull for Bull; and so I leave you to recreate yourself with the end of an old Song— and Sorrow came to the old Friar.  [Exit Gomez. Lorenzo comes to him. Lor. 
I will not ask you your Success; for I overheard part of it, and saw the Conclusion; I find we are now put upon our last Trump; the Fox is earthed, but I shall send my two Terriers in after him.  Soldier, 
I warrant you, Colonel, we'll unkennel him.  Lor. 
And make what haste you can to bring out the Lady: what say you, Father, Burglary is but a venial Sin among Soldiers.  Dom. 
I shall absolve them, because he is an enemy of the Church— there is a Proverb, I confess, which says, That Deadmen tell no Tales; but let your Soldiers apply it at their own Perils.  Lor. 
What, take away a man's Wife, and kill him too! the Wickedness of this old Villain startles me, and gives me a twinge for my own Sin; though it come far short of his: hark you Soldiers, be sure you use as little Violence to him as is possible.  Dom. 
Hold a little, I have thought better how to secure him, with less danger to us.  Lor. 
O Miracle, the Friar is grown conscientious!  Dom. 
The old King you know is just murdered, and the persons that did it are unknown; let the Soldiers seize him for one of the Assassinates, and let me alone to accuse him afterwards.  Lor. 
I cry thee mercy with all my heart, for suspecting a Friar of the least good-nature; what, would you accuse him wrongfully?  Dom. 
I must confess, 'tis wrongful quoad hoc, as to the Fact itself; but 'tis rightful quoad hunc, as to this Heretical Rogue, whom we must dispatch: he has railed against the Church, which is a fouler Crime than the murder of a Thousand Kings; Omne majus continet in se minus: He that is an Enemy to the Church, is an Enemy unto Heaven; and he that is an Enemy to Heaven, would have killed the King, if he had been in the Circumstances of doing it: so it is not wrongful to accuse him.  Lor. 
I never knew a Churchman, if he were personally offended, but he would bring in Heaven by hook or crook into his Quarrel. Soldiers, Do as you were first ordered.  [Exeunt Soldiers. Dom. 
What was't you 'em? Are you sure it's safe, and not scandalous?  Lor. 
Somewhat near your-own Design, but not altogether so mischievous; the People are infinitely discontented, as they have reason; and Mutinies there are, or will be, against the Queen; now I am content to put him thus far into the Plot, that he should be secured as a Traitor; but he shall only be Prisoner at the Soldier's quarters; and when I am out of reach, he shall be released.  Dom. 
And what will become of me then? for when he is free he will infallibly accuse me.  Lor. 
Why then, Father, you must have recourse to your infallible Church-remedies, Lie impudently, and Swear devoutly, and, as you told me but now, let him try whose Oath will be first believed: Retire; I hear 'em coming.  [They withdraw.] Enter the Soldiers with Gomez struggling on their backs. Gom. 
Help, good Christians, help Neighbours; my House is broken open by force; and I am ravished, and am like to be assassinated; what do you mean Villains? will you carry me away like a Pedlar's Pack upon your backs? will you murder a man in plain daylight?  First Soldier, 
No: But we'll secure you for a Traitor; and for being in a Plot against the State.  Gom. 
Who, I in a Plot! O Lord! O Lord! I never durst be in a Plot: why, how can you in Conscience suspect a rich Citizen of so much wit as to make a Plotter? there are none but poor Rogues, and those that can't live without it, that are in Plots.  Second soldier, 
Away with him, away with him.  Gom. 
O, my Gold! my Wife! my Wife! my Gold! As I hope to be saved now, I know no more of the Plot than they that made it.  [They carry him off, and exeunt. Lor. 
Thus far have we sailed with a merry gale, and now we have the Cape of good Hope in sight; the Trade wind is our own if we can but double it.  [He looks out. (Aside.) 
Ah, my Father and Pedro stand at the corner of the Street with company, there's no stirring till they are passed!  Enter Elvira with a Casket. Elvi. 
Am I come at last into your Arms?  Lor. 
Fear nothing; the Adventure's ended; and the Knight may carry off the Lady safely.  Elvi. 
I'm so overjoyed, I can scarce believe I am at liberty; but stand panting, like a Bird that has often beaten her Wings in vain against her Cage, and at last dares hardly venture out though she sees it open.  Dom. 
Lose no time, but make haste while the way is free for you; and thereupon I give you my Benediction.  Lor. 
'Tis not so free as you suppose; for there's an old Gentleman of my acquaintance that blocks up the passage at the corner of the street.  Dom. 
What have you gotten there under your Arm, Daughter? somewhat I hope that will bear your Charges in your Pilgrimage.  Lor. 
The Friar has an Hawk's eye to Gold and Jewels.  Elvi. 
Here's that will make you dance without a Fiddle, and provide better Entertainment for us then Hedges in Summer, and Barns in Winter; here's the very Heart and Soul, and Life Blood of Gomez; Pawns in abundance, old Gold of Widows, and new Gold of Prodigals, and Pearls and Diamonds of Court Ladies, till the next Bribe helps their Husbands to 'em.  Dom. 
They are the Spoils of the Wicked, and the Church endows you 'em.  Lor. 
And, Faith, we'll drink the Church's Health out of them. But all this while I stand on Thorns; prithee, Dear, look out, and see if the coast be free for our Escape; for I dare not peep for fear of being known.   Elvira goes to look, and Gomez comes running in upon her: she shrieks out. Gom. 
Thanks to my Stars, I have recovered my own Territories— What do I see! I'm ruined! I'm undone! I'm betrayed!  Dom. 
(Aside.) What a hopeful Enterprise is here spoiled?  Gom. 
O, Colonel, are you there? and you, Friar? nay, than I find how the World goes.  Lor. 
Cheer up man; thou art out of jeopardy; I heard thee crying out just now; and came running in full speed with the Wings of an Eagle and the Feet of a Tiger to thy rescue.  Gom. 
Ay, you are always at hand to do me a Courtesy with your Eagles' Feet, and your Tyger's Wings: and, What were you here for, Friar?  Dom. 
To interpose my Spiritual Authority in your behalf.  Gom. 
And why did you shriek out, Gentlewoman?  Elvi. 
'Twas for Joy at your Return.  Gom. 
And that Casket under your Arm, for what end and purpose?  Elvi. 
Only to preserve it from the Thiefs.  Gom. 
And you came running out of doors—  Elvi. 
Only to meet you, sweet Husband.  Gom. 
A fine Evidence summed up among you; thank you heartily; you are all my Friends: the Colonel was walking by accidentally, and, hearing my voice, came in to save me; the Friar, who was hobbling the same way too, accidentally again, and not knowing of the Colonel, I warrant you, he comes in to pray for me; and my faithful Wife runs out of doors to meet me with all my Jewels under her Arm, and shrieks out for Joy at my return: but if my Father-in-law had not met your Soldiers, Colonel, and delivered me in the nick, I should neither have found a Friend nor a Friar here, and might have shrieked out for joy myself for the loss of my Jewels and my Wife.  Dom. 
Art thou an Infidel? Wilt thou not believe us?  Gom. 
Such Churchmen as you would make any man an Infidel: Get you into your Kennel, Gentlewoman; I shall thank you within-doors for your safe custody of my Jewels and your own. [He thrusts his Wife off the Stage. Exit Elvira. As for you, Colonel Huff-cap, we shall try before a Civil Magistrate who's the greater Plotter of us two, I against the State, or you against the Petticoat.  Lor. 
Nay, if you will complain, you shall for some thing.  [Beats him. Gom. 
Murder! murder! I give up the Ghost! I am destroyed! help! murder! murder!  Dom. 
Away, Colonel, let us fly for our Lives; the neighbours are coming out with Forks and ●ire-shovelss and Spits and other domestic Weapons; the Militia of a whole Alley is raised against us.  Lor. 
This is but the Interest of my Debt, Master Usurer, the Principal shall be paid you at our next meeting.  Dom. 
Ah, if your Soldiers had but dispatched him, his Tongue had been laid a sleep, Colonel; but this comes of not following good counsel; ah—  [Exeunt Lor. and Friar severally. Gom. 
I'll be revenged of him if I dare; but he's such a terrible Fellow that my mind misgives me; I shall tremble when I have him before the Judge: all my Misfortunes come together: I have been robbed, and cuckolded, and ravished, and beaten in one quarter of an hour; my poor Limbs smart, and my poor Head aches: ay, do, do, smart Limb, ache Head, and sprout Horns; but I'll be hanged before I'll pity you: you must needs be married, must ye? there's for that, (beats his own Head) and to a fine, young, modish Lady, must ye? there's for that too; and, at threescore, you old, doting Cuckold, take that remembrance— a fine time of day for a man to be bound Prentice, when he is past using of his Trade; to set up an equipage of Noise, when he has most need of Quiet; instead of her being under Covert-baron, to be under Covert-feme myself; to have my Body disabled, and my Head fortified; and, lastly, to be crowded into a narrow Box with a shrill Treble,  
That with one Blast through the whole House does bound,  
And first taught Speaking-trumpets how to sound.  [Exit Gomez.  

SCENE, The Court.  Enter Raymond, Alphonso, Pedro. Raym. 
Are these, are these, ye Powers, the promised Joys,  
With which I flattered my long tedious absence,  
To find, at my return, my Master murdered?  
O, that I could but weep to vent my Passion!  
But this dry Sorrow burns up all my Tears.  Alph. 
Mourn inward, Brother; 'tis observed at Court  
Who weeps, and who wears black; and your Return  
Will fix all Eyes on every Act of yours,  
To see how you resent King Sancho's Death.  Raym. 
What generous man can live with that Constraint  
Upon his Soul, to bear, much less to flatter  
A Court like this! can I soothe Tyranny?  
Seem pleased to see my Royal Master murdered,  
His Crown usurped, a Distaff in the Throne,  
A Council made of such as dare not speak,  
And could not if they durst; whence honest men  
Banish themselves for shame of being there:  
A Government that, knowing not true wisdom,  
Is scorned abroad, and lives on Tricks at home?  Alph. 
Virtue must be thrown off, 'tis a coarse garment,  
Too heavy for the sunshine of a Court.  Raym. 
Well then, I will dissemble for an end  
So great, so pious, as a just Revenge:  
You'll join with me.  Alphon. 
No honest man but must.  Pedro, 
What Title has this Queen but Lawless Force?  
And Force must pull her down.  Alphon. 
Truth is, I pity Leonora's case;  
Forced, for her Safety, to commit a Crime  
Which most her Soul abhors.  Raym. 
All she has done, or e'er can do, of good,  
This one black Deed has damned.  Pedro, 
You'll hardly gain your Son to our Design.  Raym. 
Your reason for't.  Pedro, 
I want time to unriddle it:  
Put on your t'other Face; the Queen approaches.  Enter the Queen, Bertran, and Attendants. Raym. 
And that accursed Bertran  
Stalks close behind her, like a Witche's Fiend,  
Pressing to be employed; stand, and observe them.  Queen, 
to Bertran: Buried in private, and so suddenly!  
It crosses my Design, which was t'allow  
The Rites of Funeral fitting his Degree,  
With all the Pomp of mourning.  Bert. 
It was not safe:  
Objects of pity, when the cause is new,  
Would work too fiercely on the giddy Crowd:  
Had Caesar's body never been exposed,  
Brutus had gained his Cause.  Queen, 
Then, was he loved?  Bertran, 
O, never man so much, for Saintlike goodness.  Pedro, 
(Aside.) Had bad men feared him but as good men loved him,  
He had not yet been sainted.  Queen, 
I wonder how the People bear his Death,  Bertr. 
Some discontent there are; some idle murmurs.  Pedro, 
How, Idle Murmurs! Let me plainly speak:  
The doors are all shut up; the wealthier sort,  
With Arms across, and Hats upon their Eyes,  
Walk to and fro before their silent Shops:  
Whole droves of Lender's crowd the Bankers doors,  
To call in Money; those who have none, mark  
Where Money goes; for when they rise 'tis Plunder:  
The Rabble gather round the Man of News,  
And listen with their Mouths;  
Some tell; some hear, some judge of News, some make it;  
And he who lies most loud, is most believed.  Queen, 
This may be dangerous.  Raym. 
(Aside.) Pray Heaven it may.  Bertr. 
If one of you must fall;  
Self-preservation is the first of Laws:  
And if, when Subjects are oppressed by Kings,  
They justify Rebellion by that Law,  
As well may Monarchs turn the edge of right  
To cut for them, when self-defence requires it.  Queen, 
You place such Arbitrary Power in Kings,  
That I much fear, if I should make you one,  
You'll make yourself a Tyrant; let these know  
By what Authority you did this Act.  Bertran, 
You much surprise me to demand that Question:  
But, since Truth must be told, 'Twas by your own.  Queen, 
Produce it; or, By Heaven, your Head shall answer  
The Forfeit of your Tongue.  Raym. 
(Aside.) Brave mischief towards.  Bertran, 
You bade me.  Queen, 
When, and where?  Bertr. 
No, I confess, you bade me not in words;  
The Dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs,  
And pointed full upon the stroke of Murder:  
Yet this you said,  
You were a woman ignorant and weak,  
So left it to my care.  Queen, 
What if I said,  
I was a woman ignorant and weak,  
Were you to take th'advantage of my Sex,  
And play the Devil to tempt me? You contrived,  
You urged, you drove me headlong to your toils;  
And if, much tired, and frighted more, I paused;  
Were you to make my Doubts your own Commission?  Bertr. 
This 'tis to serve a Prince too faithfully;  
Who, free from Laws himself, will have that done,  
Which, not performed, brings us to sure Disgrace;  
And, if performed, to Ruin.  Queen, 
This 'tis to counsel things that are unjust:  
First, to debauch a King to break his Laws,  
(Which are his safety,) and then seek Protection  
From him you have endangered; but, Just Heaven,  
When Sins are judged, will damn the tempting Devil  
More deep than those he tempted.  Bert. 
If Princes not protect their Ministers,  
What man will dare to serve them?  Queen, 
None will dare  
To serve them ill, when they are left to Laws;  
But when a Counsellor, to save himself,  
Would lay Miscarriages upon his Prince,  
Exposing him to public Rage and Hate;  
O, 'tis an Act as infamously base,  
As should a common Soldier sculk behind,  
And thrust his General in the Front of War:  
It shows he only served himself before,  
And had no sense of Honour, Country, King;  
But centred on himself; and used his Master  
As Guardians do their Wards, with shows of care,  
But with intent to sell the public Safety,  
And pocket up his Prince.  Pedro, 
(Aside.) Well said, i'faith;  
This Speech is e'en too good for an Usurper.  Bertr. 
I see for whom I must be sacrificed;  
And, had I not been sotted with my zeal,  
I might have found it sooner.  Queen, 
From my sight!  
The Prince who bears an Insolence like this  
Is such an Image of the Powers above,  
As is the Statue of the Thundering God,  
Whose Bolts the Boys may play with.  Bertran, 
Unrevenged  
I will not fall, nor single.  [Exit Bertran cum suis. Queen to Raymond, who kisses her hand. Qu. 
Welcome, welcome:  
I saw you not before: one Honest Lord  
Is hid with ease among a Crowd of Courtiers:  
How can I be too grateful to the Father  
Of such a Son as Torrismond?  Raym. 
His Actions were but Duty.  Queen, 
Yet, My Lord,  
All have not paid that Debt like noble Torrismond;  
You hear how Bertran brands me with a Crime,  
Of which, your Son can witness, I am free;  
I sent to stop the Murder, but too late;  
For Crimes are swift, but Penitence is slow;  
The bloody Bertran, diligent in ill,  
Flew to prevent the soft returns of Pity.  Raym. 
O cursed Haste of making sure a Sin!  
Can you forgive the Traitor?  Queen, 
Never, never:  
'Tis written here in Characters so deep  
That seven years hence, (till then should I not meet him,)  
And in the Temple then, I'll drag him thence,  
Even from the Holy Altar to the Block.  Raym. 
(Aside.) She's fired, as I would wish her; aid me Justice,  
As all my ends are thine, to gain this Point;  
And ruin both at once:— It wounds indeed,  [To her. 
To bear Affronts too great to be forgiven,  
And not have Power to punish; yet one way  
There is to ruin Bertran.  Queen, 
O, there's none;  
Except an Host from Heaven can make such haste  
To save my Crown as he will do to seize it:  
You saw he came surrounded with his Friends,  
And knew besides our Army was removed  
To quarters too remote for sudden use.  Raym. 
Yet you may give Commission  
To some Bold man whose Loyalty you trust,  
And let him raise the Train-bands of the City.  Queen, 
Gross feeders, Lion talkers, Lamblike fighters.  Raym. 
You do not know the Virtues of your City,  
What pushing force they have; some popular Chief,  
More noisy than the rest, but cries Halloo,  
And in a trice the bellowing Herd come out;  
The Gates are barred, the Ways are barricadoed,  
And One and All's the Word; true Cocks of th' Game,  
That never ask for what, or whom, they fight;  
But turn 'em out, and show 'em but a Foe,  
Cry Liberty, and that's a Cause of Quarrel.  Queen, 
There may be Danger, in that boisterous Rout:  
Who knows when Fires are kindled for my Foes,  
But some new Blast of wind may turn those Flames  
Against my Palace Walls.  Raym. 
But still their Chief  
Must be some one whose Loyalty you trust.  Queen, 
And who more proper for that Trust than you,  
Whose Interests, though unknown to you, are mine?  
Alphonso, Pedro, haste to raise the Rabble,  
He shall appear to 'em.  Raymon, 
(Aside to Alphonso and Pedro,) First seize Bertran,  
And then insinuate to them that I bring  
Their lawful Prince to place upon the Throne.  Alphon. 
Our lawful Prince.  Raym. 
Fear not; I can produce him.  Pedro 
to Alph. Now we want your Son Lorenzo: what a mighty Faction  
Would he make for us of the City Wives,  
With, o, dear Husband, my sweet honey Husband,  
Won't you be for the Colonel? if you love me,  
Be for the Colonel; o he's the finest man!  [Exeunt Alphonso, Pedro. Raym. 
(Aside.) So, now we have a Plot behind the Plot;  
She thinks she's in the depth of my Design,  
And that it's all for her, but time shall show,  
She only lives to help me ruin others,  
And last, to fall herself.  Queen, 
Now to you Raymond: Can you guests no reason  
Why I repose such Confidence in you?  
You needs must think  
There's some more powerful Cause then Loyalty:  
Will you not speak to save a Lady's Blush?  
Must I inform you 'tis for Torrismond,  
That all this Grace is shown?  Raym. 
(Aside.) By all the Powers, worse, worse, than what I feared.  Queen, 
And yet, what need I blush at such a Choice?  
I love a man, whom I am proud to love,  
And am well pleased my Inclination gives  
What Gratitude would force; o, pardon me;  
I ne'er was covetous of Wealth before:  
Yet think so vast a Treasure as your Son,  
Too great for any private man's possession;  
And him too rich a Jewel to be set  
In vulgar metal, or for vulgar use.  Raym. 
Arm me with Patience Heaven.  Queen, 
How, Patience, Raymond!  
What exercise of Patience have you here?  
What find you in my Crown to be contemned?  
Or in my Person loathed? Have I, a Queen,  
Past by my Fellow-rulers of the World,  
Whose vying Crowns lay glittering in my way,  
As if the World were paved with Diadems?  
Have I refused their Blood, to mix with yours,  
And raise new Kings from so obscure a race,  
Fate scarce knew where to find them when I called?  
Have I heaped on my Person, Crown and State,  
To load the Scale, and weighed myself with Earth,  
For you to spurn the Balance?  Raym. 
Bate the last; and 'tis what I would say;  
Can I, can any Loyal Subject see  
With Patience such a stoop from Sovereignty,  
An Ocean poured upon a narrow Brook?  
My Zeal for you must lay the Father by,  
And plead my country's 'Cause against my Son.  
What though his Heart be great, his Actions gallant;  
He wants a Crown to poise against a Crown,  
Birth to match Birth, and Power to balance Power.  Queen, 
All these I have, and these I can bestow;  
But he brings Worth and Virtue to my Bed;  
And Virtue is the Wealth which Tyrants want:  
I stand in need of one whose Glories may  
Redeem my Crimes, alley me to his Fame,  
Dispel the Factions of my Foes on Earth,  
Disarm the Justice of the Powers above.  Raym. 
The People never will endure this choice.  Queen, 
If I endure it what imports it you?  
Go raise the Ministers of my Revenge,  
Guide with your Breath this whirling Tempest round,  
And see its Fury fall where I design;  
At last a time for just Revenge is given;  
Revenge the darling attribute of Heaven:  
But man, unlike his Maker, bears too long;  
Still more exposed, the more he pardons Wrong;  
Great in forgiving, and in suffering brave;  
To be a Saint he makes himself a Slave.  [Exit Queen. Raymond, 
(solus,) Marriage with Torrismond! it must not be;  
By Heaven, it must not be; or, if it be;  
Law, Justice, Honour bid farewell to Earth;  
For Heaven leaves all to Tyrants.  Enter Torrismond, who kneels to him. Tor. 
O, ever welcome, Sir,  
But doubly now! you come in such a time,  
As if propitious Fortune took a care  
To swell my Tide of Joys to their full height,  
And leave me nothing farther to desire.  Raym. 
I hope I come in time, if not to make,  
At least, to save your Fortune and your Honour:  
Take heed you steer your Vessel right, my Son,  
This Calm of Heaven, this Mermayd's melody,  
Into an unseen whirl-pool draws you fast,  
And in a moment sinks you.  Tor. 
Fortune cannot:  
And Fate can scarce; I've made the Port already,  
And laugh securely at the lazy storm  
That wanted wings to reach me in the deep.  
Your pardon, Sir; my duty calls me hence;  
I go to find my Queen, my earthly Goddess,  
To whom I owe my Hopes, my Life, my Love.  Raym. 
You owe her more perhaps than you imagine;  
Stay, I command you stay, and hear me first,  
This hour's the very Crisis of your Fate,  
Your Good or Ill, your Infamy or Fame;  
And all the colour of your Life depends  
On this important Now.  Tor. 
I see no danger;  
The City, Army, Court espouse my Cause;  
And, more than all, the Queen with public favour  
Indulges my Pretensions to her Love.  Raym. 
Nay, if possessing her can make you happy,  
'Tis granted, nothing hinders your Design.  Tor. 
If she can make me blessed? she only can:  
Empire, and Wealth, and all she brings beside,  
Are but the Train and Trappings of her Love:  
The sweetest, kindest, truest of her Sex,  
In whose Possession years roll round on years,  
And Joys in Circles meet new Joys again:  
Kisses, Embraces, Languishing and Death,  
Still from each other, to each other move  
To crown the various seasons of our Love:  
And doubt you if such Love can make me happy?  Raym. 
Yes, for I think you love your Honour more.  Tor. 
And what can shock my Honour in a Queen?  Raym. 
A Tyrant, an Usurper?  Tor. 
Grant the be.  
When from the Conqueror we hold our Lives,  
We yield ourselves his Subjects from that hour:  
For mutual Benefits make mutual Ties.  Raym. 
Why, can you think I owe a Thief my Life,  
Because he took it not by lawless Force?  
What if he did not all the Ill he could?  
Am I obliged, by that, t'assist his Rapines,  
And to maintain his Murders?  Tor. 
Not to maintain, but bear 'em unrevenged;  
Kings Titles commonly begin by Force,  
Which Time wears off and mellows into Right:  
So Power, which in one Age is Tyranny,  
Is ripened in the next to true Succession:  
She's in Possession.  Raym. 
So Diseases are:  
Should not a lingering Fevor be removed;  
Because it long has raged within my Blood?  
Do I rebel when I would thrust it out?  
What, shall I think the World was made for One,  
And Men are born for Kings, as Beasts for Men;  
Not for Protection, but to be devoured?  
Mark those who dote on Arbitrary Power,  
And you shall find 'em either hot-brained Youth,  
Or needy Bankrupts, servile in their greatness,  
And Slaves to some, to lord it o'er the rest.  
O baseness, to support a Tyrant Throne,  
And crush your Free-born-brethrens of the World!  
Nay, to become a part of Usurpation;  
To espouse the Tyrant's Person and her Crimes,  
And, on a Tyrant, get a Race of Tyrants  
To be your Country's Curse in after Ages.  Tor. 
I see no Crime in her whom I adore,  
Or if I do, her Beauty makes it none:  
Look on me as a man abandoned o'er  
To an eternal Lethargy of Love;  
To Pull, and pinch, and wound me, cannot cure,  
And but disturb the Quiet of my Death.  Raym. 
O, Virtue! Virtue! what art thou become?  
That men should leave thee for that Toy a Woman  
Made from the dross and refuse of a Man;  
Heaven took him sleeping when he made her too;  
Had man been waking he had ne'er consented.  
Now Son suppose  
Some brave Conspiracy were ready formed  
To punish Tyrants and redeem the Land,  
Could you so far belly your Country's Hope,  
As not to head the Party?  Tor. 
How could my Hand rebel against my Heart?  Raym. 
How could your Heart rebel against your Reason?  Tor. 
No Honour bids me fight against myself;  
The Royal Family is all extinct,  
And she who reigns bestows her Crown on me:  
So must I be ungrateful to the Living,  
To be but vainly pious to the Dead;  
While you defraud your Offspring of their Fate.  Raym. 
Mark who defraud their Offspring, you or I?  
For know there yet survives the lawful Heir  
Of Sancho's blood, whom when I shall produce,  
I rest assured to see you pale with Fear  
And Trembling at his Name.  Tor. 
He must be more than Man who makes me tremble:  
I dare him to the Field with all the odds  
Of Justice on his side, against my Tyrant:  
Produce your lawful Prince, and you shall see  
How brave a Rebel Love has made your Son.  Raym. 
Read that: 'Tis with the Royal Signet signed,  
And given me by the King when time should serve  
To be perused by you.  Torrismond reads. I the King. 

My youngest and alone surviving Son  
Reported dead t' escape rebellious rage  
Till happier times shall call his Courage forth  
To break my Fetters or revenge my Fate  
I will that Raymond educate as his,  
And call him Torrismond—   
If I am he, that Son, that Torrismond,  
The World contains not so forlorn a Wretch!  
Let never man believe he can be happy!  
For when I thought my Fortune most secure,  
One fatal moment tears me from my Joys:  
And when two Hearts were joined by mutual Love,  
The Sword of Justice cuts upon the Knot,  
And severs 'em for ever.  Raym. 
True; it must.  Tor. 
O cruel man, to tell me that it must!  
If you have any Pity in your Breast,  
Redeem me from this Labyrinth of Fate,  
And plunge me in my first Obscurity:  
The Secret is alone between us two;  
And though you would not hide me from myself,  
O, yet be kind, conceal me from the World,  
And be my Father still.  Raym. 
Your Lot's too glorious, and the Proof's too plain,  
Now, in the name of Honour, Sir, I beg you  
(Since I must use Authority no more)  
On these old Knees I beg you, e'er I die,  
That I may see your Father's Death revenged.  Tor. 
Why, 'tis the only business of my Life;  
My Orders issued to recall the Army,  
And Bertran's Death resolved.  Raym. 
And not the Queen's; o She's the chief Offender!  
Shall Justice turn her Edge within your Hand?  
No, if she scape, you are yourself the Tyrant,  
And Murderer of your Father.  Tor. 
Cruel Fates,  
To what have you referved me!  Raym. 
Why that Sigh?  Tor. 
Since you must know, but break, o break my Heart,  
Before I tell my Fatal Story out,  
Th'Usurper of my Throne, my House's Ruin,  
The Murderer of my Father, is my Wife!  Raym. 
O, Horror! Horror! after this Alliance:  
Let Tigers match with Hinds, and Wolf's with Sheep,  
And every Creature couple with his Foe.  
How vainly Man designs when Heaven opposes!  
I bred you up to Arms, raised you to Power,  
Permitted you to fight for this Usurper,  
Indeed to save a Crown, not hers, but yours,  
All to make sure the Vengeance of this Day,  
Which even this Day has ruined— one more question  
Let me but ask, and I have done for ever:  
Do you yet love the Cause of all your Woes,  
Or, is she grown (as sure she ought to be)  
More odious to your sight than Toads and Adders?  Tor. 
O, there's the utmost Malice of my Fate,  
That I am bound to hate, and born to love!  Raym. 
No more:— Farewell my much lamented King.  
(Aside,) I dare not trust him with himself so far  
To own him to the People as their King,  
Before their Rage has finished my Designs  
On Bertran and the Queen, but in Despite  
Even of himself I'll save him.  [Exit Raymond. Tor. 
'Tis but a moment since I have been King,  
And weary on't already; I'm a Lover,  
Am loved, possess; yet all these make me wretched;  
And Heaven has given me Blessings for a Curse.  
With what a load of Vengeance am I pressed,  
Yet never, never, can I hope for Rest;  
For when my heavy Burden I remove,  
The weight falls down, and crushes her I love.  [Exit Torrismond. 
The End of the Fourth Act.    

ACT V.  

SCENE, A Bedchamber.  Enter Torrismond. Tor. 
LOve, Justice, Nature, Pity and Revenge  
Have kindled up a Wildfire in my Breast,  
And I am all a Civil-war within!  Enter Queen and Teresa at a distance. 
My Leonora there!  
Mine? Is she mine? My Father's Murderer mine?  
Oh! that I could with Honour love her more,  
Or hate her less with Reason! See, she weeps;  
Thinks me unkind, or false, and knows not why  
I thus estrange my Person from her Bed:  
Shall I not tell her? no: 'twill break her Heart:  
She'll know too soon her own and my Misfortunes.  [Exit. Queen, 
He's gone, and I am lost; Didst thou not see  
His sullen Eyes? how gloomily they glanced:  
He looked not like the Torrismond I loved.  Ter. 
Can you not guests from whence this Change proceeds?  Queen, 
No: there's the Grief, Teresa: Oh, Teresa!  
Fain would I tell thee what I feel within,  
But Shame and Modesty have tied my Tongue!  
Yet, I will tell, that thou mayest weep with me.  
How dear, how sweet his first Embraces were!  
With what a Zeal he joined his Lips to mine!  
And sucked my Breath at every word I spoke,  
As if he drew his Inspiration thence:  
While both our Souls came upward to our Mouths,  
As neighbouring Monarchs at their Borders meet:  
I thought: Oh no; 'Tis false: I could not think;  
'Twas neither Life nor Death, but both in one.  Ter. 
Then sure his Transports were not less than yours.  Qu. 
More, more! for by the high-hung Tapers light  
I could discern his Cheeks were glowing red,  
His very Eyeballs trembled with his Love,  
And sparkled through their Casements humid Fires:  
He sighed and kissed, breathed short, and would have spoke,  
But was too fierce to throw away the time;  
All he could say was Love, and Leonora.  Ter. 
How then can you suspect him lost so soon?  Qu. 
Last night he flew not with a Bridegroom's haste,  
Which eagerly prevents the pointed hour;  
I told the Clocks, and watched the wasting Light,  
And listened to each softly treading step,  
In hope 'twas he: but still it was not he.  
At last he came, but with such altered Looks,  
So wild, so ghastly, as if some Ghost had met him;  
All pale, and speechless, he surveyed me round;  
Then, with a Groan, he threw himself a-bed,  
But far from me, as far as he could move,  
And sighed, and tossed, and turned, but still from me.  Ter. 
What, all the night?  Queen, 
Even all the live-long-night.  
At last: (for, blushing, I must tell thee all,)  
I pressed his Hand, and laid me by his Side,  
He pulled it back, as if he touched a Serpent.  
With that I burst into a flood of Tears,  
And asked him how I had offended him?  
He answered nothing, but with Sighs and Groans,  
So restless past the night: and at the Dawn  
Leapt from the Bed, and vanished.  Ter. 
Sighs and Groans,  
Paleness and Trembling, all are signs of Love;  
He only fears to make you share his Sorrows.  Queen, 
I wish 'twere so: but Love still doubts the worst;  
My heavy Heart, the Prophetess of Woes,  
Foreboads some ill at hand: To soothe my sadness  
Sing me the Song which poor Olympia made  
When false Bireno left her.—  

A SONG  

I.  
Farewell ungrateful Traitor,  
Farewell my perjured Swain,  
Let never injured Creature  
Believe a Man again.  
The Pleasure of Possessing  
Surpasses all Expressing,  
But 'tis too short a Blessing,  
And Love too long a Pain.   

II.  
'Tis easy to deceive us  
In pity of your Pain,  
But when we love you leave us  
To rail at you in vain.  
Before we have descried it  
There is no Bliss beside it,  
But she that once has tried it  
Will never love again.   

III.  
The Passion you pretended  
Was only to obtain,  
But when the Charm is ended  
The Charmer you disdain.  
Your Love by ours we measure  
Till we have lost our Treasure,  
But Dying is a Pleasure,  
When Living is a Pain.    Re-enter Torrismond. Tor. 
Still she is here, and still I cannot speak;  
But wander like some discontend Ghost  
That oft appears, but is forbid to talk.  [Going again. Queen, 
O, Torrismond, if you resolve my Death,  
You need no more but to go hence again;  
Will you not speak?  Tor. 
I cannot.  Qu. 
Speak! oh, speak!  
Your Anger would be kinder than your Silence.  Tor. 
Oh!  Queen, 
Do not sigh, or tell me why you sigh?  Tor. 
Why do I live, ye Powers?  Qu. 
Why do I live, to hear you speak that word?  
Some black-mouthed Villain has defamed my Virtue.  Tor. 
No! No! Pray let me go.  Queen, 
(kneeling) You shall not go:  
By all the Pleasures of our Nuptial-bed,  
It ever I was loved, though now I'm not,  
By these true Tears, which from my wounded Heart  
Bleed at my Eyes.—  Tor. 
Rise.  Queen, 
I will never rise,  
I cannot choose a better place to die.  Tor. 
Oh! I would speak, but cannot.  Queen, 
(rising) Guilt keeps you silent then; you love me not:  
What have I done? ye Powers, what have I done?  
To see my Youth, my Beauty, and my Love  
No sooner gained, but slighted and betrayed:  
And like a Rose just gathered from the Stalk,  
But only smelled, and cheaply thrown aside  
To wither on the ground.  Tere. 
For Heaven's sake, Madam, moderate your Passion.  Queen, 
Why namest thou Heaven? there is no Heaven for me,  
Despair, Death, Hell, have seized my tortured Soul:  
When I had raised his groveling Fate from ground,  
To Power and Love, to Empire and to Me;  
When each Embrace was dearer than the first;  
Then, then to be contemned; then, then thrown off;  
It calls me old, and withered, and deformed,  
And loathsome: Oh! what Woman can bear Loathsome?  
The Turtle flies not from his billing Mate,  
He bills the closer: but ungrateful Man,  
Base, barbarous Man, the more we raise our Love,  
The more we palls, and cool, and kill his ardour.  
Racks, Poison, Daggers, rid me but of Life;  
And any Death is welcome.  Tor. 
Be witness all ye Powers that know my Heart,  
I would have kept the fatal Secret hid,  
But she has conquered, to her Ruin conquered:  
Here, take this Paper, read our Destinies;  
Yet do not; but in kindness to yourself,  
Be ignorantly safe.  Qu. 
No! give it me,  
Even though it be the Sentence of my Death.  Tor. 
Then see how much unhappy Love had made us.  
O Leonora! Oh!  
We two were born when sullen Planets reigned;  
When each the others Influence opposed,  
And drew the Stars to Factions at our Birth.  
Oh! better, better had it been for us  
That we had never seen, or never loved.  Queen, 
There is no Faith in Heaven, if Heaven says so,  
You dare not give it.  Tor. 
As unwillingly,  
As I would reach out Opium to a Friend  
Who lay in Torture, and desired to die.  [Gives the Paper. 
But now you have it, spare my sight the pain  
Of seeing what a world of Tears it cost you:  
Go silently enjoy your part of Grief,  
And share the sad Inheritance with me.  Queen, 
I have a thirsty Fevor in my Soul,  
Give me but present Ease, and let me die.  Exit Qu. and Teres. Enter Lorenzo. Lor. 
Arm, arm, my Lord, the City Bands are up,  
Drums beating, Colours flying, Shouts confused;  
All clustering in a heap, like swarming Hives,  
And rising in a moment.  Tor. 
With design to punish Bertran, and revenge the King,  
'Twas ordered so.  Lor. 
Then you're betrayed, my lord  
'Tis true, they block the Castle kept by Bertran,  
But now they cry, Down with the Palace, Fire it,  
Pull out th' usurping Queen.  Tor. 
The Queen, Lorenzo! durst they name the Queen?  Lor. 
If railing and reproaching be to name her.  Tor. 
O Sacrilege! Say quickly who commands  
This vile blaspheming Rout?  Lor. 
I'm loath to tell you,  
But both our Fathers thrust 'em headlong on,  
And bear down all 'em.  Tor. 
Death and Hell!  
Somewhat must be resolved, and speedily,  
How sayst thou, my Lorenzo? dar'st thou be  
A Friend, and once forget thou art a Son,  
To help me save the Queen?  Lor. 
(Aside.) Let me consider;  
Bear Arms against my Father? he begat me;  
That's true; but for whose sake did he beget me?  
For his own sure enough: for me he knew not.  
Oh! but says Conscience: Fly in Nature's Face?  
But how if Nature fly in my Face first?  
Then Nature's the Aggressor: Let her look to't—  
— He gave me Life, and he may take it back:—  
No, that's Boys play, say I.—  
'Tis Policy for Son and Father to take different sides:  
For then, Lands and Tenements commit no Treason.  
(To Tor.) Sir, upon mature consideration, I have found my Father  
To be little better than a Rebel, and therefore I'll do  
My best to secure him for your sake; in hope you may  
Secure him hereafter for my sake.  Tor. 
Put on thy utmost speed to head the Troops  
Which every moment I expect t'arrive:  
Proclaim me, as I am, the lawful King:  
I need not caution thee for Raymond's Life,  
Though I no more must call him Father now.  Lor. 
(Aside.) How! not call him Father?  
I see Preferment altars a man strangely,  
This may serve me for a Use of Instruction,  
To cast off my Father when I am great.  
Methought too he called himself the lawful King;  
Intimating sweetly that he knows what's what  
With our Sovereign Lady: Well, if I rout my  
Father, as I hope in Heaven I shall, I am in a fair  
Way to be a Prince of the Blood: Farewell General;  
I'll bring up those that shall try what mettle there is in Orange-Tawny.  [Exit.] Tor. 
(at the door.) Hast there, command the Guards be all drawn up  
Before the Palace gate.— By Heaven, I'll face  
This Tempest, and deserve the Name of King.  
O, Leonora, beauteous in thy Crimes,  
Never were Hell and Heaven so matched before!  
Look upward, Fair, but as thou look'st on me;  
Then all the Blessed will beg that thou may'st live,  
And even my Father's Ghost his Death forgive.  [Exit Tor.  

SCENE The Palace-yard.  Drums and Trumpets within. Enter Raymond, Alphonso, Pedro, and their Party. Raym. 
Now, valiant Citizens, the time is come  
To show your Courage and your Loyalty:  
You have a Prince of Sancho's Royal Blood,  
The Darling of the Heavens and Joy of Earth;  
When he's produced, as soon he shall, among you;  
Speak, what will you adventure to re-seat him  
Upon his Father's Throne?  Omn. 
Our Lives and Fortunes.  Raym. 
What then remains to perfect our Success,  
But o'er the Tyrant's Guards to force our way?  Omn. 
Lead on, Lead on.  Drums and Trumpets on the other Side. Enter Torrismond and his Party: as they are going to fight, he speaks. Tor. 
to his, Hold, hold your Arms.  Raym. 
to his, Retire.  Alph. 
What means this Pause?  Ped. 
Peace: Nature works within them.  [Tor & Ray. go apart. Tor. 
How comes it, good old Man, that we two meet  
On these harsh terms! thou very reverend Rebel?  
Thou venerable Traitor, in whose Face  
And hoary Hairs Treason is sanctified;  
And Sin's black die seems blanched by Age to Virtue.  Raym. 
What Treason is it to redeem my King.  
And to reform the State?  Tor. 
That's a stale Cheat,  
The primitive Rebel, Lucifer, first used it,  
And was the first Reformer of the Skies.  Raym. 
What if I see my Prince mistake a Poison,  
Call it a Cordial? Am I then a Traitor,  
Because I hold his Hand or break the Glass?  Tor. 
How dar'st thou serve thy King against his Will?  Raym. 
Because 'tis then the only time to serve him.  Tor. 
I take the blame of all upon myself,  
Discharge thy weight on me.  Raym. 
O, never, never!  
Why, 'tis to leave a Ship tossed in a Tempest  
Without the Pilot's Care.  Tor. 
I'll punish thee,  
By Heaven, I will, as I would punish Rebels,  
Thou stubborn loyal Man.  Raym. 
First let me see  
Her punished who misleads you from your Fame,  
Then burn me, hack me, hue me into pieces,  
And I shall die well pleased.  Tor. 
Proclaim my Title,  
To save the effusion of my Subjects Blood, and thou shalt still  
Be as my Foster-father near my Breast,  
And next my Leonora.  Raym. 
That word stabs me.  
You shall be still plain Torrismond with me,  
Th' Abetter, Partner, (if you like that name,)  
The Husband of a Tyrant, but no King;  
Till you deserve that Title by your Justice.  Tor. 
Then, farewell Pity, I will be obeyed.  
(To the people.) Hear, you mistaken Men, whose Loyalty  
Runs headlong into Treason: See your Prince,  
In me behold your murdered Sancho's Son;  
Dismiss your Arms; and I forgive your Crimes.  Raym. 
Believe him not; he raves; his words are loose  
As heaps of Sand, and scattering, wide from sense.  
You see he knows not me, his natural Father;  
But aiming to possess th' usurping Queen,  
Sohigh he's mounted in his airy hopes,  
That now the wind is got into his Head,  
And turns his Brains to Frenzy.  Tor. 
Hear me yet, I am—  Raym. 
Fall on, fall on, and hear him not:  
But spare his Person for his Father's sake.  Ped. 
Let me come, if he be mad, I have that shall cure him.  
There's no Surgeon in all Arragon has so much  
Dexterity as I have at breathing of the Temple-vein.  Tor. 
My Right for me.  Raym. 
Our Liberty for us.  Omn. 
Liberty, Liberty,—  [As they are ready to fight. Enter Lorenzo and his Party. Lor. 
On forfeit of your Lives lay down your Arms.  Alph. 
How, Rebel, art thou there?  Lor. 
Take your Rebel back again Father mine.  
The beaten Party are Rebels to the Conquerors.  
I have been at hard-head with your butting Citizens;  
I have routed your Herd; I have dispersed them;  
And now they are retreated quietly,  
From their extraordinary Vocation of Fighting in  
The Streets, to their ordinary Vocation of Cozening  
In their Shops.  Tor. 
to Raym. You see 'tis vain contending with the Truth,  
Acknowledge what I am.  Raym. 
You are my King: would you would be your own;  
But by a fatal fondness you betray  
Your Fame and Glory to th' Usurper's Bed:  
Enjoy the Fruits of Blood and Parricide,  
Take your own Crown from Leonora's Gift,  
And hug your Father's Murderer in your Arms.  Enter Queen and Teresa: Women. Alph. 
No more: behold the Queen.  Raym. 
Behold the Basilisk of Torrismond,  
That kills him with her eyes, I will speak on,  
My Life is of no further use to me:  
I would have chaffered it before for Vengeance:  
Now let it go for Failing.  Tor. 
(Aside.) My Heart sinks in me while I hear him speak,  
And every slackened fiber drops its hold,  
Like Nature letting down the Springs of Life:  
So much the Name of Father awes me still.  
Send off the Crowd:  
For you, now I have conquered, I can hear with honour your Demands.  Lor. 
to Alph. Now, Sir, who proves the Traitor? My Conscience  
Is true to me, it always whispers right when  
I have my Regiment to back it.  [Exeunt omnes praeter Tor. Ray. Leon. Tor. 
O Leonora! what can Love do more?  
I have opposed your ill Fate to the utmost:  
Combated Heaven and Earth to keep you mine:  
And yet at last that Tyrant, Justice! Oh—  Queen, 
'Tis past, 'tis past: and Love is ours no more:  
Yet I complain not of the Powers above;  
They made m'a Miser's feast of Happiness,  
And could not furnish out another meal.  
Now, by yon Stars, by Heaven, and Earth, and Men;  
By all my Foes at once; I swear, my Torrismond,  
That to have had you mine for one short day  
Has canceled half my mighty sum of Woes:  
Say but you hate me not.  Tor. 
I cannot hate you.  Raym. 
Can you not? say that once more;  
That all the Saints may witness it against you.  Queen, 
Cruel Raymond!  
Can he not punish me but he must hate?  
O! 'tis not Justice, but a brutal Rage,  
Which hates th' Offender's person with his Crimes:  
I have enough to overwhelm one Woman,  
To lose a Crown and Lover in a day:  
Let Pity lend a Tear when Rigour strikes.  Raym. 
Then, than you should have thought of Tears and Pity,  
When Virtue, Majesty, and hoary Age  
Pleaded for Sancho's Life.  Qu. 
My future days shall be one whole Contrition;  
A Chapel will I build with large Endowment,  
Where every day an hundred aged men  
Shall all hold up their withered hands to Heaven,  
To pardon Sancho's Death.  Tor. 
See, Raymond, see: she makes a large amends:  
Sancho is dead: no punishment of her  
Can raise his cold stiff limbs from the dark Grave;  
Nor can his blessed Soul look down from Heaven;  
Or break th' eternal Sabbath of his Rest,  
To see with Joy her Miseries on Earth.  Raym. 
Heaven may forgive a Crime to Penitence,  
For Heaven can judge if Penitence be true;  
But man, who knows not Hearts, should make Examples;  
Which like a Warning-piece must be shot off,  
To fright the rest from Crimes.  Queen, 
Had I but known that Sancho was his Father,  
I would have poured a Deluge of my Blood  
To save one Drop of his.  Tor. 
Mark that, Inexorable Raymond mark!  
'Twas fatal Ignorance that caused his Death.  Raym. 
What if she did not know he was your Father:  
She knew he was a Man, the Best of men,  
Heaven's Image double stamped, as Man and King.  Qu. 
He was, he was, even more than you can say,  
But yet—  Raym. 
But yet you barbarously murdered him.  Queen, 
He will not hear me out!  Tor. 
Was ever Criminal forbid to plead?  
Curb your ill mannered Zeal.  Raym. 
Sing to him Siren;  
For I shall stop my Ears: now mince the Sin,  
And mollify Damnation with a Phrase:  
Say you consented not to Sancho's Death,  
But barely not forbade it.  Qu. 
Hard hearted Man, I yield my guilty cause,  
But all my Guilt was caused by too much Love.  
Had I for Jealousy of Empire sought  
Good Sancho's Death, Sancho had died before.  
'Twas always in my Power to take his Life:  
But Interest never could my Conscience blind  
Till Love had cast a mist before my Eyes;  
And made me think his Death the only means  
Which could secure my Throne to Torrismond.  Tor. 
Never was fatal Mischief meant so kind,  
For all she gave, has taken all away.  
Malicious Powers! is this to be restored?  
'Tis to be worse deposed than Sancho was.  Raym. 
Heaven has restored you, you depose yourself:  
Oh! when young Kings begin with scorn of Justice,  
They make an Omen to their after Reign,  
And blot their Annals in the foremost page.  Tor. 
No more; lest you be made the first Example,  
To show how I can punish.  Raym. 
Once again:  
Let her be made your Father's Sacrifice,  
And after make me hers.  Tor. 
Condemn a Wife!  
That were to atone for Parricide with Murder!  Raym. 
Then let her be divorced! we'll be content  
With that poor scanty Justice: Let her part.  Tor. 
Divorce! that's worse than Death, 'tis Death of Love.  Queen, 
The Soul and Body part not with such Pain  
As I from you: but yet 'tis just, my Lord:  
I am th' Accurst of Heaven, the Hate of Earth,  
Your Subject's Detestation, and your Ruin:  
And therefore fix this doom upon myself.  Tor. 
Heaven! Can you wish it? to be mine no more!  Queen, 
Yes, I can wish it as the dearest Proof  
And last that I can make you of my Love.  
To leave you blessed I would be more accursed  
Than Death can make me; for Death ends our Woes,  
And the kind Grave shuts up the mournful Scene:  
But I would live without you; to be wretched long:  
And hoard up every moment of my life,  
To lengthen out the Payment of my Tears,  
Till even fierce Raymond, at the last, shall say,  
Now let her die, for she has grieved enough.  Tor. 
Hear this, hear this thou Tribune of the People:  
Thou zealous, public Bloodhound hear, and melt.  Raym. 
(Aside.) I could cry now, my Eyes grow womanish,  
But yet my Heart holds out.  Queen, 
Some solitary Cloister will I choose,  
And there with holy Virgins live immured:  
Course my Attire, and short shall be my Sleep,  
Broke by the melancholy midnight Bell:  
Now, Raymond, now be satisfied at last.  
Fasting and Tears, and Penitence and Prayer  
Shall do dead Sancho Justice every hour.  Raym. 
(Aside.) By your leave, Manhood!  [Wipes his Eyes. Tor. 
He weeps, now he's vanquished.  Raym. 
No! 'Tis a salt rheum that scalds my Eyes.  Qu. 
If he were vanquished, I am still unconquered,  
I'll leave you in the height of all my Love,  
Even when my Heart is beating out its way,  
And struggles to you most.  
Farewell, a last Farewell! My dear, dear Lord  
Remember me; speak, Raymond, will you let him?  
Shall he remember Leonora's Love,  
And shed a parting Tear to her Misfortunes?  Raym. 
(Almost crying.) Yes, yes, he shall, pray go.  Tor. 
Now, By my Soul, she shall not go: why, Raymond,  
Her every Tear is worth a Father's Life;  
Come to my Arms, come, my fair Penitent,  
Let us not think what future Ills may fall,  
But drink deep Draughts of Love, and lose'em all.  [Exit Tor. with the Queen. Raym. 
No matter yet, he has my Hook within him,  
Now let him frisk and flownce and run and roll,  
And think to break his hold. He toils in vain:  
This Love, the Bait he gorged so greedily,  
Will make him sick, and then I have him sure.  Enter Alphonso, and Pedro Alph. 
Brother, there's News from Bertran; he desires  
Admittance to the King, and cries aloud,  
This day shall end our Fears of Civil War:  
For his safe Conduct he entreats your Presence,  
And begs you would be speedy.  Raym. 
Though I loathe  
The Traitor's sight, I'll go: Attend us here.  [Exit Ray. Enter Gomez, Elvira, Dominic, with Officers, to make the Stage as full as possible. Pedro. 
Why, how now Gomez: what mak'st thou here with a whole Brotherhood of City Bailiffs? why, thou lookest like Adam in Paradise, with his guard of Beasts about him.  Gom. 
Ay, and a man had need of them, Don Pedro: for here are the two old Seducers, a Wife and Priest, that's Eve and the Serpent, at my Elbow.  Dom. 
Take notice how uncharitably he talks of Church men.  Gom. 
Indeed you are a charitable Belswagger: my Wife cried out Fire, Fire; and you brought out your Church-buckets, and called for Engines to play against it.  Alph. 
I am sorry you are come hither to accuse your Wife, her Education has been virtuous, her Nature mild and easy.  Gom. 
Yes! she's easy with a Vengeance, there's a certain Colonel has found her so.  Alph. 
She came a spotless Virgin to your Bed.  Gom. 
And she's a spotless Virgin still for me— she's never the worse for my wearing, I'll take my Oath on't: I have lived with her with all the Innocence of a Man of Threescore; like a peaceable Bedfellow as I am—  Elvi. 
Indeed, Sir, I have no reason to complain of him for disturbing of my Sleep.  Dom. 
A fine Commendation you have given yourself; the Church did not marry you for that.  Pedro, 
Come, come, your Grievances, your Grievances.  Dom. 
Why, Noble Sir, I'll tell you.  Gom. 
Peace Friar! and let me speak first. I am the Plaintiff. Sure you think you are in the Pulpit where you preach by hours.  Dom. 
And you edify by minutes.  Gom. 
Where you make Doctrines for the People, and Uses and Applications for yourselves.  Pedro, 
Gomez, give way to the old Gentleman in black.  Gom. 
No! the t'other old Gentleman in black shall take me if I do! I will speak first! nay, I will, Friar! for all your Verbum Sacerdotis, I'll speak truth in few words, and then you may come afterwards, and lie by the clock as you use to do. For, let me tell you, Gentlemen, he shall lie and forswear himself with any Friar in all Spain: that's a bold word now—  Dom. 
Let him alone: let him alone: I shall fetch him back with a Circum-bendibus I warrant him.  Alph. 
Well, What have you to say against your Wife, Gomez?  Gom. 
Why, I say, in the first place, that I and all men are married for our Sins, and that our Wives are a Judgement; that a Bachelor cobbler is a happier man than a Prince in Wedlock; that we are all visited with a Household Plague, and, Lord have mercy upon us should be written on all our doors.  Dom. 
Now he reviles Marriage which is one of the seven blessed Sacraments.  Gom. 
'Tis liker one of the seven deadly Sins: but make your best on't, I care not: 'tis but binding a man Neck and Heels for all that! But as for my Wife, that Crocodile of Nilus, she has wickedly and traitorously conspired the Cuckoldom of me her anointed Sovereign Lord: and, with the help of the aforesaid Friar, whom Heaven confound, and, with the Limbs of one Colonel Hernando, Cuckold-maker of this City, devilishly contrived to steal herself away, and under her Arm feloniously to bear one Casket of Diamonds, Pearls, and other Jewels, to the Value of 30000 Pistols. Guilty, or Not guilty; how sayest thou Culprit?  Dom. 
False and scandalous! Give me the Book. I'll take my corporal Oath pointblank against every particular of this Charge.  Elvi. 
And so will I.  Dom. 
As I was walking in the Streets, telling my Beads, and praying to myself, according to my usual custom, I heard a foul Outcry before Gomez his Portal; and his Wife, my Penitent, making doleful Lamentations: Thereupon, making what haste my Limbs would suffer me, that are crippled with often kneeling, I saw him Spurning and Fisting her most unmercifully; whereupon, using Christian Arguments with him to desist, he fell violently upon me, without respect to my Sacerdotal Orders, pushed me from him, and turned me about with a Finger and a Thumb, just as a Man would set up a Top. Mercy, quoth I. Dam, quoth he. And still continued Labouring me, till a good minded Colonel came by, whom, as Heaven shall save me, I had never seen before.  Gom. 
O Lord! O Lord!  Dom. 
Ay, and, O Lady! O Lady too! I redouble my Oath, I had never seen him. Well, this Noble Colonel, like a true Gentleman, was for taking the weaker part you may be sure— whereupon this Gomez flew upon him like a Dragon, got him down, the Devil being strong in him, and gave him Bastinado on Bastinado, and Buffet upon Buffet, which the poor, meek Colonel, being prostrate, suffered with a most Christian Patience.  Gom. 
Who? he meek? I'm sure I quake at the very thought of him; why, he's as fierce as Rhodomont, he made Assault and Battery upon my Person, beat me into all the colours of the Rainbow. And every word this abominable Priest has uttered is as false as the Alcoran. But if you want a thorough paced Liar that will swear through thick and thin, commend me to a Friar.  Enter Lorenzo, who comes behind the Company, and stands at his Father's back unseen, over against Gomez. Lor. 
(Aside.) How now! What's here to do? my Cause a trying, as I live, and that before my own Father: now Fourscore take him for an old bawdy Magistrate, that stands like the Picture of Madam Justice, with a pair of Scales in his Hand, to weigh Lechery by Ounces.  Alph. 
Well— but all this while, who is this Colonel Hernando?  Gom. 
He's the First-begotten of Beelzebub, with a Face as terrible as Demogorgon.  Lorenzo peeps up over Alph. head, and stares at Gomez. 
No! I lie, I lie:  
He's a very proper, handsome fellow! well proportioned, and clean shaped, with a Face like a Cherubin.  Ped. 
What, backward and forward Gomez? dost thou hunt counter?  Alph. 
Had this Colonel any former Design upon your Wife? for, if that be proved, you shall have Justice.  Gom. 
(Aside.) Now I dare speak; let him look as dreadfully as he will. I say, Sir, and I will prove it, that he had a lewd Design upon her Body, and attempted to corrupt her Honesty.  [Lor. lifts up his Fist clenched at him. 
I confess my Wife was as willing— as himself; and, I believe, 'twas she corrupted him: for I have known him formerly a very civil and modest person.  Elvi. 
You see, Sir, he contradicts himself at every word: he's plainly mad.  Alph. 
Speak boldly man! and say what thou wilt stand by: did he strike thee?  Gom. 
I will speak Boldly: He struck me on the Face before my own threshold, that the very walls cried shame on him.  [Lor. holds up again. 
'Tis true, I gave him Provocation, for the man's as peaceable a Gentleman as any is in all Spain.  Dom. 
Now the Truth comes out in spite of him.  Ped. 
I believe the Friar has bewitched him.  Alph. 
For my part, I see no wrong that has been offered him.  Gom. 
How? no wrong? why, he ravished me with the help of two Soldiers, carried me away vi & armis, and would have put me into a Plot against the Government.  [Lor. holds up again. 
I confess, I never could endure the Government, because it was Tyrannical: but my Sides and Shoulders are Black and Blue, as I can strip, and show the Marks 'em.  [Lor. again. 
But that might happen too by a Fall that I got yesterday upon the Pebbles.  [All laugh. Dom. 
Fresh Straw, and a dark Chamber: a most manifest Judgement, there never comes better of railing against the Church.  Gom. 
Why, what will you have me say? I think you'll make me mad: Truth has been at my Tongue's end this half hour, and I have not power to bring it out for fear of this bloody minded Colonel.  Alph. 
What Colonel?  Gom. 
Why, my Colonel: I mean, my Wife's Colonel that appears there to me like my malus genius, and terrifies me.  Alph. 
(Turning.) Now you are mad indeed, Gomez; this is my Son Lorenzo.  Gom. 
How! your Son Lorenzo! it is impossible.  Alph. 
As true as your Wife Elvira is my Daughter.  Lor. 
What, have I taken all this pains about a Sister?  Gom. 
No, you have taken some about me: I am sure, if you are her Brother, my Sides can show the Tokens of our Alliance.  Alph. 
to Lor. You know I put your Sister into a Nunnery, with a strict Command, not to see you, for fear you should have wrought upon her to have taken the Habit, which was never my Intention; and consequently, I married her without your knowledge, that it might not be in your power to prevent it.  Elvi. 
You see, Brother, I had a natural affection to you.  Lor. 
What a delicious Harlot have I lost! Now, Pox upon me, for being so near akin to thee.  Elvi. 
However, we are both beholding to Friar Dominic, the Church is an indulgent Mother, she never fails to do her part.  Dom. 
Heaven! what will become of me?  Gom. 
Why, you are not like to trouble Heaven; those fat Guts were never made for mounting.  Lor. 
I shall make bold to disburden him of my hundred Pistols, to make him the lighter for his Journey: Indeed, 'tis partly out of Conscience, that I may not be accessary to his breaking his Vow of Poverty.  Alphon. 
I have no secular Power to reward the Pains you have taken with my Daughter: But I shall do't by Proxy, Friar, your Bishop's my Friend, and is too honest to let such as you infect a Cloister.  Gom. 
Ay, do Father-in-law, let him be stripped of his Habit, and dis-order'd— I would fain see him walk in Quirpo, like a cased Rabbit, without his holy Fur upon his Back, that the World may once behold the inside of a Friar.  Dom. 
Farewell, kind Gentlemen: I give you all my Blessing before I go—  
May your Sisters, Wives, and Daughters, be so naturally lewd, that they may have no occasion for a Devil to tempt, or a Friar to pimp 'em.  [Exit, with a Rabble pushing him. Enter Torrismond, Leonora, Bertran, Raymond, Teresa, etc. Tor. 
He lives! he lives! my Royal Father lives!  
Let every one partake the general Joy.  
Some Angel with a golden Trumpet sound,  
King Sancho lives! and let the echoing skies  
From Pole to Pole resound, King Sancho lives.  
O Bertran, o! no more my Foe, but, Brother:  
One act like this blots out a thousand Crimes.  Bertr. 
Bad men, when 'tis their Interest, may do good:  
I must confess, I counselled Sancho's Murder;  
And urged the Queen by specious Arguments:  
But still, suspecting that her Love was changed,  
I spread abroad the Rumour of his Death,  
To sound the very Soul of her Designs:  
Th' Event you know was answering to my Fears:  
She threw the Odium of the Fact on me,  
And publicly avowed her Love to you.  Raym. 
Heaven guided all to save the Innocent.  Bert. 
I plead no Merit, but a bare Forgiveness.  Tor. 
Not only that, but Favour: Sancho's Life,  
Whether by Virtue or Design preserved,  
Claims all within my power.  Queen, 
My Prayers are heard;  
And I have nothing farther to desire,  
But Sancho's leave to authorise our Marriage.  Tor. 
Oh! fear not him! Pity and he are one;  
So merciful a King did never live;  
Loath to revenge, and easy to forgive:  
But let the bold Conspirator beware,  
For Heaven makes Princes its peculiar Care.  [Exeunt omnes. 
FINIS.    

Lately printed.  
Lucius junius Brutus, Father of his Country; A Tragedy acted at the Duke's Theatre: Written by Mr. Lee.  
Contemplations upon the Life of the Holy jesus, written by the Bishop of Exeter.  
Both sold by I. Tonson.   

EPILOGUE, By a Friend of the Author's.  
THere's none I'm sure, who is a Friend to Love,  
But will our Fryar's Character approve:  
The ablest Spark among you sometimes needs  
Such pious help for charitable Deeds.  
Our Church, alas! (as Rome objects) does want  
These Ghostly Comforts for the falling Saint:  
This gains them their Whore-Converts, and may be  
One Reason of the Growth of Popery.  
So Mahomet's Religion came in fashion,  
By the large leave it gave to Fornication.  
Fear not the guilt, if you can pay for't well,  
There is no Dives in the Roman Hell.  
Gold opens the straight gate, and lets him in;  
But want of money is a mortal sin.  
For all besides you may discount to Heaven,  
And drop a Bead to keep the Tallies even.  
How are men cozened still with shows of good!  
The Baud's best Mask is the grave Fryar's Hood.  
Though Vice no more a Clergyman displeases,  
Than Doctors can be thought to hate Diseases:  
'Tis by your living ill that they live well,  
By your Debauches their fat Paunches swell.  
'Tis a mock-war between the Priest and Devil,  
When they think fit, they can be very civil.  
As some who did French Counsels most advance,  
To blind the World, have railed in Print at France.  
Thus do the Clergy at your Vices bawl,  
That with more ease they may engross them all.  
By damning yours, they do their own maintain.  
A Church-man's godliness is always gain.  
Hence to their Prince they will superior be;  
And civil Treason grows Church-Loyalty:  
They boast the gift of Heaven is in their power;  
Well may they give the God they can devour.  
Still to the sick and dead their claims they lay;  
For 'tis on Carrion that the Vermin prey.  
Nor have they less Dominion on our Life,  
They trot the Husband, and they place the Wife.  
Rouse up you Cuckolds of the Northern climes,  
And learn from Sweden to prevent such crimes.  
Unman the Friar, And leave the holy Drone  
To hum in his forsaken Hive alone;  
He'll work no Honey when his sting is gone.  
Your Wives and Daughters soon will leave the Cells,  
When they have lost the sound of Aaron's Bells.  
FINIS.