The Famous HISTORY OF THE RISE and FALL OF MASSANIELLO.  
In Two Parts.  
WRITTEN By Mr. THO. D'URFEY.  
LONDON: Printed for john Nutt, near Stationers-Hall. 1700.   

Dramatis Personae.  
DON Tiberio, 
Prince of Bissignano, Duke of Mataloni.  Don Peppo d● Caraffa, 
his Brother.  Cardinal Fillomerino, 
Archbishop of Naples.  Massaniello, alias Thomas Annello of Amalsi. 
First a Fisherman, and after made Captain-General of the Neapolitans.  Pedro di Amalfi, his Brother— 
a Ruffian.  julio Genovino,— 
a Jesuit, his Counsellor.  Perone. 
A famous Banditti; at first, accomplice with Massaniello, afterwards bribed against him by Mataloni's Faction.  Rock Brasile. 
A Roguish Insolent Scrivener; afterwards made Secretary and Adjutant to Massaniello.  Bartallo— 
a Butcher. Principal of the Mob, belonging to Massaniello.  Valasco— 
a Tailor. Principal of the Mob, belonging to Massaniello.  Iacomo— 
a Miller. Principal of the Mob, belonging to Massaniello.  Gaspar— 
a Smith. Principal of the Mob, belonging to Massaniello.  Scipio.— 
a Cobbler. Principal of the Mob, belonging to Massaniello.   

WOMEN.  Dona Aurelia— 
the Vicequeen.  Belleraiza— 
her Sister.  Duchess of Mataloni. 
 Blowzabella— 
Wife to Massaniello.  Belvidore— 
a Tanner's Wife.  Ursula— 
Wife to Pedro▪   
A Servant Wench, with other Women, Wives, Sisters, etc. belonging to the Mob; together with Suitors, Priests, Choristers, Singers, Dancers, and Attendants.  
The Scene, Naples; the Time, Four days.   

To the Right Honourable THOMAS Lord LEIGH, OF Stone-Leigh, in the County of Warwick.  
My Lord,  
WHen the Great Atticus retired from Rome, to employ his happy Hours amongst Rural Pleasures, though his Contentment by that resolution, might be judged most Dear to him, at a distance from the Town's Hurry and Noise, to indulge with the charming Quiet, and sweet Diversions of the Country, yet nevertheless, the Merit and Virtue of such a Patron being too highly Celebrated, to let any envious Space be a Bar to their Addresses; Horace, Ovid, and the rest, never failed in their Poetical Correspondence, nor in often Dedicating to so great a Judge, their choicest of Labours.  
'Tis from this Scien, my Lord, that my present Ambition Sprouts and Grows; and though the Work I present, is not so worthy as it ought to be (aspiring to this Honour;) and likewise though my Acquaintance and Knowledge of your Lordship, is scarce old enough to warrant this Presumption, yet you have so large an Interest in Fame, that I am well assured, your unquestioned Reputation will Dignify the one, and your offered Courtesy, and generous Affability, Excuse and Pardon the other.  
The most material part of other Dedications, I am sensible, are generally stuffed with the Patron's Praises, and though my Lord, your generous Hospitality, your admirable Temper of Mind, and many other flourishing Virtues, which the World owns you to be Master of, may justly exact from a Poet his best Skill in an Encomium, yet fear to Offend, or lessen the value of a Modest Courtesy, which in its own Nature, is above all that I can Write to Extol it, makes me desist from a Theme fit to Inspire the best of Pens, and Improve the richest of Fancies.  
'Tis doubtless the depraved Quality of the present Times, which makes that often appear Flattery, which considering the real Merit of the Person, may properly be but justice.. The greatest Wits of former Ages, I am sure, were of this Opinion, that never spared with their highest Elegance, to Illustrate the Character of their Patrons, who in return, with their choicest Favours, expressed their Gratitude, without Blushing, or believing that to be a Compliment, which was Naturally a due belonging to their Merit.  
When Sacred Virgil by Augustus sat  
To read the Work he was to Dedicate,  
The Praises even Extravagant did seem,  
Yet Caesar did not think he Flattered him.  
But this in our Adulterated Age, is now looked on as an Offence, and consequently the Meritorious miss of their Plaudit. Be pleased therefore, My Lord, to believe, I Think what I dare not Write; and if your Lordship will be pleased to accept of this way of introducing myself into your Favour, it will be as well the greatest Happiness, as highest Honour,  
My LORD, To Your Lordship's Eternally Obliged, And Most Humble Servant, Tho. Durfey.   

PROLOGUE  By Mr. Pinkethman, [holding a Paper with Pricked Notes, in his Hand.] 
IF I'm of Age, to know what's Good from Bad,  
I must declare our Patentees are Mad;  
They've known my Comic Humour all along,  
And yet this Morning sent me here— a Song,  
A nimble dapper Dancing-Master too,  
And bids me choose, for nothing else will do.  
Mad, Mad, stark Mad. Let's see, Sol lafoy, me, sol. Sings.  
Zooks, how like Midnight Screeker shall I howl;  
For can they ever think I will comply—  
I Dance, I Sing; * Capers awkerdly. they'd as good bid me Fly,  
For as toth' first, my English Bulk's not made;  
I want an Air for Monsieurs Capering Trade:  
And for the next,—  
If they expect, I'll be a Capon for't,  
I'd have 'em know, my Salary's too short;  
I'd do much for Diversion of the Town,  
But not do something to lose all my own.  
Ah, Sirs, you are the cause of these our straits,  
You still have been our dire malignant Fates:  
By your lewd Humours first, which when we followed  
Our Smutty Plays out of our Doors were Hollowed,  
And Zealous Spirits 'gainst our Function Bellowed.  
And then besides, your Critic Quality,  
Makes such a wretched Drug of Poetry,  
That we are forced, to help our Withering Bays,  
Strangers to Hire, of Sigismundian Race,  
At Price so dear, we purchase Voices Killing,  
They're Laughing at us, when we think 'em Trilling.  
Oh, what vast Sums, since our late Vein of Plotting,  
Have both our Houses paid, for Quavering and for Cutting:  
So much, that I in Melancholy Case,  
With looking Gravely, have quite spoiled my Face:  
They may be Merry, as their Gains provoke,  
But I, a Lose● have forgot to joak.  
I was a taking Fool some time ago,  
But now as out of Fashion as a Beau;  
My Trade's quite spoiled, I cannot vend my Ware,  
Ah, would to Heaven I were a Dancing Bear,  
Or any other Monster, but a Player,  
A singing French Baboon, just come from Lorraine,  
A Hedgehog, give't but out that I am Foreign,  
I'll draw the City Fops, and Suburb Whores,  
And Cheat the Town by Sixes, and by Fours.  
But since our Poet is resolved to day,  
Once more to entertain you with a Play,  
A famous Story, and known lately True,  
Mixed with good Humour, and good Music too,  
Which there is in it, give the Devil his due:  
I'll once more hope too, it will please your Fancies,  
As well as if it were all Songs and Dances.  
And if some Foes their Malice should pursue,  
Let but our Friends do generous justice too,  
We'll Critics fear no more, those Play degraders,  
Than Wise Men did of late the new Invaders.  
The first, our Heroes of sharp Understanding,  
On Wit's fair Island, shall oppose from Landing.  
Th' last, which some say, mere Courtesy retards  
From coming, being Civil to our Guards,  
Should, e'er their Hot-brained Frenzy hither call 'em;  
Oh, how our Terrible trained-bands would maul 'em.   

EPILOGUE,  By Mrs. Rogers. 
FOr fear ill-Humour in tour Hearts should reign,  
And that you should be in the Damning Vein,  
At my Suit, that am not oft so bold,  
Suspend your judgement, till the Tale be told.  
A Rebel's Rise, we only now Present,  
The next Part shows his Fall and Punishment;  
And unjust judges you may well be thought,  
That Sentence, e'er you have heard out the Fault.  
For my own part, plagued with no envious Fury,  
Were I to sit among the Poet's jury,  
He should come off, and have a Plaudit free,  
For th' Character of my kind Lord and me:  
A Husband venturing so to save his Wife,  
And she, for his sake, slighting her own Life;  
Our good Example, is enough to day,  
Were there no Merit else to save the Play:  
Turtles whom Love, so mutually does Wound;  
Such Rarities— where are they to be found?  
Therefore Gallants all, that your Spouses love,  
Pleased with the Subject, must our Scenes approve:  
And you, fair Ladies, that have Husbands dear,  
Concerned must in the Poet's Cause appear;  
Nor let the Virgin Stars forget to shine,  
As they expect a Lover like to mine.  
As for the rest that slight these solid Matters,  
The wild Town Doxies, and the Marriage haters,  
If them you cannot Convert, you can Confound;  
Give but your Hands, and let Consent go round,  
Their Hisses soon will in your Claps be Drowned.   

The Famous HISTORY OF THE Rise and Fall of Massaniello.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Noise within of Shouting, and crying Down with the gabels; Down with Mataloni, and Viva, Viva Massaniello; Viva Massaniello. Then Enter Genovino Solus. Genou. 
SHout on, ye Sons of Clamour, louder still,  
And fright the Grandees with obstreperous Noise,  
Whilst I secure in Darling Policies▪  
Am pleased with the success of my Designs against this vile ungrateful City Naples. Did ever Jesuit Wronged die Unrevenged, if he had power to effect it? No, the working Brain would burst quite through the Skull, with the excess of Boiling Rage fermented, sooner than leave that Scandal on our Order, That we forgive those that Affront the Priesthood. They lately chose Philomerino Cardinal, and the officious Nobles thronged the Conclave to shut out my Deserts from being Precedent, as I so long Expected; which to revenge,— I've subtly wove myself into the Counsels of the new Raised Plebeian, Massaniello, who though a Fisherman,— has yet a Spirit of unmatched Force; a Head too as well turned for Mischief as this here— and who now with Resolution and Sense, not found before in such Course Breeding, has stirred the People to put down the gabels; some Numbers are already rose, and— Mataloni and his Confederates, the Marks they shoot at. That Bow I'll help to bend;— Oh!— here's the Idol Cardinal and the Great Duke— 
They Plot their own Affair;  
I'll to the Rabble and do Mischief there.  Exit.  Enter Cardinal, Duke di Mataloni, Don Peppo and Attendants. Mat. 
Five hundred Boys, let 'em not Fright your Eminence, Switches and Rods will send 'em Home again.  Card. 
My Lord, I am not Frighted, yet let my Caution be of some use, if only to prepare Your Grace to take into consideration the danger of such sudden Insurrections.  Don Pep. 
What Danger can there be? These Hot-brained Youths that march about with Weapons made of Canes, I'll undertake at th' sight of a Whip and Bell, Like foisting Curs, shall skulk into their Corners.  Mat. 
The hungry Mice are hunting after Cheese, a Cat will scare 'em all;— besides the number is Inconsiderable.  Card. 
They increase hourly, and Men begin to follow 'em; not only so, but Headed, as I hear, by a Bold Fellow, who though but a Fisherman, has yet strange Courage and uncommon Parts; one who I'm told, has, when his Net lay Idle, sat often down to read in Politics, and in his spare time studied to catch Men.  Don Pep. 
Yes, Chapmen,— my good Lord,— Men for his purpose; Stewards of Families, or Clerks of Kitchens, Men proper to buy up his Fish.  Mat. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha. I hear indeed a Ruffian, one Massaniello, is the Ringleader of a Rout of Beggars, Fellows that wear half Breeches and no Stockings, cry out against me, chosen by the Viceroy, and th' rest that Farm 'em, for imposing gabels on their Commodities: Your Grace no doubt, has heard too That I grow Rich— with such Oppressions.  Card. 
The Rabble's Voice, My Lord, can give no Scandal. 'Tis bruited so indeed.  Don Pep. 
Tripe-eating Rogues.  Card. 
My Lord, my holy Function does oblige me to preach up Moderation, and to counsel those I want Power to Govern— And I could wish Your Grace would make yourself more loved by th' People, who, I confess, cry loudly on th' Exactions you late have crushed 'em with: Nay, they now spare not to say the King's Abused,— and that your Avarice puts all these Fetters on 'em.  Mat. 
My good Lord Cardinal, you were just now for preaching Moderation; but now methinks your Talk seems biased Interest, and as the Rabble Dictate.  Card. 
I must be plain.  Don Pep. 
And Sincere, good my Lord: And since that word has scaped your Lips so Gravely, I must beg leave as plainly too to tell your— humble Eminence, that this upstart Humility of yours, is of too new a Date to gain great Credit; your Scarlet Robe wore late a blushing Dignity, more used to awe the Rabble, than to soothe 'em.  Mat. 
Were the Church Slandered, than what Chains, what Irons▪ what new Device in th' terrible Inquisition, must plague the Heretic People?  Card. 
Nay, my Lords, Let not your Passion so far blind your Reason, as to mistake me, since my only aims are to promote Peace among us,— which I fear the People mean to hinder.  Don Pep. 
Damn the People.  Card. 
Observe my Lord, that Curse has Echoed back again into your Ears, and only hurts you, not the People. Shout within.  Mat. 
Ha— let's hear him, his Eminence is Preaching.  Card. 
Some Instructions I think in truth are proper; therefore Historically take this with you, my Lords, and I have done. What greater Plague can there befall a City, than a Disunion and divided Interest? What destroyed Carthage, but two mighty Factions, the Barchiniani and th' Hanoniani? What maintained War in France for Sixty Years, but Jars 'twixt th' House of Burgundy and Orleans? Or what late brought to England Desolation, and caused so many several bloody Battles, wherein were Eighty of their Nobles Slain, but th' Faction of the Houses, York and Lancaster? And nothing, be assured, can urge our Ruin so soon as that in Naples.— A City is like a Ship, Divisions are her Leaks,— and whilst the Mariners fight, the Sea runs in and drowns all.— I have done, only one word more— The Neapolitans, as I've observed 'em, are not like a Top,— they will not sleep with Scourging. Farewell my Lords.  Exit Cardinal. Duke. 
This dreaming Churchman, pampered and grown rich, fears every little Gust will blow his House down.  Don Pep. 
Ay, that's the Moral of his History— his Bags; the Cardinal quakes even at the thought of Plunder.  Duke. 
How now Gervasio, what's the News?  Enter Gervasio. Geru. 
The Rogues are gathering still, they're now Two Thousand.  Don Pep. 
What Boys or Men?  Geru. 
Both now, and roar like Thunder.  Duke. 
Mushrooms bred out of Dunghills. Brother, stay here whilst I go to the Viceroy to demand some of his Guards to quell this Petty Hydra: In the mean time, if any more of the Rascals straggle this way— speak not in Rage, but fright 'em with Whips and th' Galleys,— I'll be with ye straight. Exit Mat.  Don Pep. 
Fright 'em, ' yes, faint-hearted Brother, Timorous Mataloni, I would do more than fright 'em, for your Office— which if my Plots are prosperous,— I shall not long despair of; fright 'em, Confound 'em, I shall ne'er have Patience to let the Villains waste their Garlic Breath in answering me a word— I shall thrust their Souls out.  Massaniello within, crying his Fish. 
Roches, Roches; come buy my Flounders, come buy my Flounders.  Geru. 
That's he, my Lord, that's Massaniello; that's their plaguy Ringleader— I know his Voice.  Don Pep. 
The Rascal comes upon us; stand back Gervasio; let's observe 'em a little.  Enter Massaniello, clothed like a Fisherman, with a long Pole and a Basket of Fish hanging at's Back; with Bartallo, Valasco, Jacomo, Gaspar, and Scipio, clothed like their Functions. Massan. 
Buy my Flounders, come buy my Flounders.— Bartallo, where's Perrone, my Brother Pedro,— and the People?  Bart. 
Taking down the Arms of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, my Glorious Boy, according to thy Order, to carry to the Marketplace.  Massan. 
'Tis well, those Arms are Badges of our future Freedom, for it shall come to that, my Lads; be well assured it shall, now we are up.  Geru. 
How the Rogue swells and battens in his Impudence; Gad I don't like him, he has a devilish Look.  Don Pep. 
Peace, we shall take down his Swelling presently,— let's hear a little more.  Massan. 
Well, my bold Brethren, and how d'ye like Proceedings ha'?  Omnes. 
Bravely, bravely; beyond Expectation.  Massan. 
The gabels shall all down, Boys, there's my Hand on't; never shall more Exactions be in Naples.  Omnes. 
A Massaniello; a Massaniello.  Massan. 
How many Butchers are come to day, my noble Brother of the Cleaver, hah?  Bart. 
Threescore and five, my Child of Thunder— all brave Fellows, Rogues used to knock out Brains hourly, without Consideration, and paddle in Blood up to the Elbows;— there's ne'er a one of 'em but shall take an Enemy by the Lugs,— stick a Knife in's Gullet like a Calf, and hang him up with a Hook in's Nostrils— say but thou the word, my brave Backsword Man.  Don Pep. 
Here's a rare Rascal for ye.  Geru. 
Ay, they are curiously matched indeed, if the whole Pack are such Beagles, Heaven defend me from being the Game they Hunt for.  Massan. 
And what says my Vulcan, my Fire-drake here, how many Anvils want their Hammers to day, ha?  Gasp. 
Fifty and odd, and more a coming too; woe be to the Gabellers if any of these meet 'em,— or a thing called a Steward to any of 'em,— such a sort of a Rogue, let him look to his Sconce I faith.  Geru. 
Oh Lord! Gervasio Starts.  Gasp. 
There will be a score of red-hot Forks in his Guts, before he can get out so many words to beg their Pardon.  Geru. 
Oh bloody minded Hellhounds, what an Ague have they given me—  Valasc. 
The Princes of the Thimble will be there in shoals too, following a Colours of their own making.  jacomo. 
No Grinding will be neither, the Millstones rest in Peace this day.  Scipio. 
And all old Shoes soak Water;— every Cobbler leaves off his Work, and runs to stitch the Government:— Not one Profession, but brings in Numbers:— So that by to Morrow, the City will scarce hold 'em.  Massan. 
Rare rare News— Sirs, and merrily strait we'll meet 'em, and then go hunt for this Leviathan here, the Farmer of the gabels,— Duke of Mataloni,— and when we have found him—  Don Pep. 
And what when ye have found him— you Mouth of these Herring eaters?— What stinking Fish would you present his Grace?  Massan. 
Stinking Fish;— here if your Lordship's Nose be sound, smell to my Basket.  Scipio. 
His Lordship;— Who is't jacomo, canst tell?  jacomo. 
Ay, ay, a rank Enemy, I know him well enough, 'tis the Duke of Mataloni's Brother, Don Peppo di Caraffa.  Bart. 
Don Peppo, Don Pimpo;— what if he be a Don,— Hem, here are those dare look him in the Face, for all his Titles.  Valasco. 
Ay, Ay, 'tis not his Whiskers there that can fright us, Neighbours.  Massan. 
Well, what thinks your Lordship now, are they Sweet or no?— I confess, they don't smell of Musk, as your Jacket does there; but for the true scent of wholesome Fish, I dare vouch for 'em.  Don Pep. 
Sirrah, Sirrah, for this Sauciness, expect the Lash, and for the next, the Galleys:— Go Gervasio, and take account of his Fish;— demand the Gabell, if he denies it, Seize 'em.  Geru. 
The Dog has a plaguy surly Look,— I am half afraid to venture on him: Come Friend, let's see, let's see your Fish; come, come, nay quickly, you had best.  Massan. 
What would you see Friend?— Hum, dost love Flounders? Canst eat one raw, Hum. Slaps one in his Face.  Gervas'. 
My Lord, d' ye observe this?— Did ye see the saucy Rascal?  Don Pep. 
Monstrous! Is your Insolence then grown to such a height, that in the Person of the Great Duke of Mataloni's Steward, ye dare affront the Government's Decrees, ordering all gabels duly to be haid.  Massan. 
We dare; and to prove it, the said Government's Decrees, and Great Duke's Order, I Massaniello, Gudgeon Catcher of this City of Naples, and Friend to the People, Order, henceforth to be Null and Void.  Scipio. 
And we'll stand by thee;— one and all Boys, one and all.  Omnes. 
Ay, ay, one and all, one and all.  Don Pep. 
You, most impudent of Scoundrels,— you Order; why what are you?  Massan. 
Why faith, one that has formerly sold Fish for Money, but my Generosity being provoked by these your civil Commands; I will, for once, give 'em your Lordship's Tarrier here free Cost. Flings one at Gervasio.  Don Pep. 
Ha,— is it possible?— Well, here are those coming I hope will do me Justice,— Lays his hand on his Sword. Shout within.  Massan. 
That there will indeed,— you hear they are very near ye; in the mean time, no Drawing, my Lord— no showing Weapons, If your Sword peeps, your Throat will be in danger—  Gasp. 
No, nor no gabels and please ye, but as much Fish and like your Rogueship, as you will— there's a delicate Roach To Gervasio  Bart. 
And there's a couple of Flounders, as good as e'er Tooth was put in.  jacom. 
Nay faith, let's make 'em up a Dish. They pelt Gervasio with Fish.  Shout within. Valasco. 
Ay, ay, the Gabell Monger shan't say we grudge him.  Scipio. 
No, no, he shall be frankly used.  Don Pep. 
The Rabble here, nay, then 'tis in vain to stay for the Guards, I must run for't,— Exit, they Pelting him.  Bart. 
No, no, hold, a word with you first, good Mr. Steward.  Enter Perone, Pedro, Genovino, Rock, Brasile, and the Rabble, Perone bearing the Arms of the Emperor Charles the Fifth. They Seize Gervasio. Pedro. 
How now Brother, what's the matter?  Massan. 
Not much, I have only been playing the rough Game a little, told part of my Mind to Don Peppo di Carraffa, and given a dish of Fish of my own Dressing, to Mr. Steward there; I mean with the Sauce about his Ears or so, that's all.  Bart. 
And troth, since I am come so luckily to know his Worship's Title here— I mean to give him a desert of my own preparing too— when my Knife is sharp enough.— You have an ill Voice Friend, and can sing the Duke your Master's Praises but Hoarsly, yet— I'll make you an admirable Choirister presently. Whetting his Knife.  Geru. 
You will not use a Gentleman and a Scholar Rudely, I hope.  Rock. 
Rudely, no not in the least; why look ye, Friend, I'll tell ye how we'll use ye; First, because you say you're a Gentleman, and so consequently a Cuckold Maker, and as probably would play upon occasion, your Game at Hot-cocles with our Wives, Sisters, and Daughters— you shall only be sequestered, sweet Sir, you understand me, that's all. And Secondly, As being likewise a Scholar,— and no doubt, a Wit,— a Poet, and so forth,— the Waters of Helicon shall sprinkle your Clod-pate— hay to the Pump, to the Pump with him Neighbours.  Rabble. 
Ay, ay, Pump the Gentleman, Pump the Gentleman.  Genou. 
No, no, hold Friends, and hear me a little, I'll take him aside and Examine him— work upon his fear and hopes of Liberty, till he speaks Treason against the People, or mould him till he abuses the Church, then Impeach him and deliver him up to 'em, to knock out his Brains.  Peron. 
There's the true Humour of a jesuit to a hair— d'ye here Sir Priest— can you think of no Punishment for a Delinquent, but knocking out of his Brains presently?  Genou. 
None so effectual, Friend, as the Case stands now with the People, who have been often oppressed by the effects of this Fellow's Office; and understanding Corporal limited Punishment, I have cautiously observed, has run the risk of future Revenge;— but when the Brains are fairly out, you may be satisfied the Understanding can do no Mischief.  Peron. 
This Fellow's Roguery outvies the worst even of my Inclinations— that have been bred a Bandito from my Child hood, I find I am a Novice in Mischief to this Priest here. Aside.  Massan. 
Brother, thou sayst well, it shall be so, let the Gentleman's Courtly Courage be washed away at the Pump,— then uncase him like a Rabbit,— to bring him as near as can be to the mode and fashion of the People— and when his Fur is off, and one Ear lest in Pawn for his good Behaviour, turn the Crop-eared Rascal lose— to complain to his Fellows; for now I think on't, to make a Capon of him— will be too much Honour, we'll do that for his Master when we catch him— and so away with him Boys.  Geru. 
O Tempora! O Mores!  Pedro. 
moor, moor.— What, you speak Latin, to affront our Learning, ye Rascal, do ye;— go, go, away with him Boys, souse him and his moor together.  Omn. 
Ay, ay,— come away Mores,— jog on moor; we'll have no moor amongst us.  Peron. 
Hold, hold, Sirs, not so fast— his Master was once my Patron, and did me an especial Favour, therefore this once pray let my Interest free him.  Massan. 
Your Interest,— why how now Perone, dare you pretend to Interest, when I have given my Orders?  Rock. 
We'll have no Interest nor Orders, but Massaniello's; therefore once more I say, away with the Gentleman, Pump the Gentleman, Crop the Gentleman, I say.  Omn. 
Ay ay,— away with him, away with him. Ex. some with Gervas'  Peron. 
No Interest but Massaniello's, have my Life and Actions been so worthless, and is my Character so Insignificant, that he m●● order all— I have been thought a Person fr—  Massan. 
For what? To rob a Marketwoman of her Butter?  Per. 
And sp●● your Fish, you mean, for by that deed perhaps your Codshead might want sauce, hah.  Massan. 
Or at the head of thy Banditti's Troop, hast thou Attacked a poor Itinerant Tailor, and Robbed him of his Thimble and his Bodkin?  Per. 
I've something sharper than a Bodkin here, shall make my Party good— 'gainst any Grig-bobber or Trout catcher in Naples, if he dares. They Draw upon one anether.  Pedro. 
How now Villain, dare you assault my Brother?  Bart. 
Part 'em, part 'em, keep 'em assunder.  Peron. 
I rob a Tailor, a fusty Dog fish.  Valas. 
Look ye Friends— not too much upon the Tailor's d'ye see; a Tailor is not a thing to be too much Joaked upon; a Tailor can cut a hole in a Coat, as well as stitch it up d'ye see; and therefore Mum, there's no more to be said of a Tailor '  Massan. 
Let me come to him, and I'll paunch the Rogue, I'll use him as he does a Rifled Traveller, bore out a Gut, and peg it to a Tree, then whip him round till he has spun his Soul out.  Rock. 
hay day, what is the Devil in us all on th' sudden— why my Masters, are ye Bewitched; what a pox, have ye forgot the Proverb, That when Thiefs fall out— why sure you can't forget the Proverb— come, come, for shame put up; why how the Devil will ye Plunder other Folks Houses, if ye destroy your own Tenements before hand?  Genou. 
Come, come, rest thee quiet, Friend, and let 'em try one another, there may be good Policy in't,— for dost hear, if one of 'em Fall,— we are sure another's has Mettle, and is certainly a brave Fellow.  Rock. 
Hum— a fine Counsellor indeed, so there be but Mischief done, this Rogue cares not how it comes about.  Pedro. 
Braziles i'th' right; Is this a time for Feuds? And shall desire of being Chief, spoil all?— you know by this time the City's all in Uproar, the Court Alarmed too, and shall our Jangling grind Swords for our own Throats, that so late swore to where 'em for our Enemy's Destruction? Come, come, let me propose to heal this Difference:— Will ye both consent the People shall decide it, that he who they make Choice of shall Command?  Massan. 
What I've already done, was for the People, and therefore you are sure of my Consent.  Peron. 
I'm for the Public good as much as any, and therefore never will oppose their Choice.  Rock. 
Why, that's well said,— for look ye my Masters, pray remember the Faggot in the Fable,— If we hold together, the Devil cannot break us, but if we unbind and lie asunder, every Addlepate will snap us like so many Switches;— therefore prick up your Ears, ye Sons of Sedition, and elevate your Voices strongly;— which will ye have for your Captain-General— a Perone, or a Massaniello?  Omnes. 
A Massaniello; a Massaniello.  Genou. 
'Tis most fit and properly Chosen; I think I have made him my Creature. Aside. For who can be more fit to lead you on, than he who first proposed your means of Freedom? Proceed therefore my Son, and Cramp these Courtiers, and what my weak Brain can assist thee in, be sure of and command. I'll do't for Conscience sake, not worldly Profit, for Heaven knows, I only hope to be—  Rock. 
Archbishop of Naples— or so, that's all.  Genou. 
Recorded in the Chronicle of Time, for carrying on so good a Work.  Per. 
Rare Dog still;— if Dissimulation had the effect of Poison, how that Fellow's Belly had been swelled by this time; Hum— has this many-Headed Monster deserted me too?— Well, since it must be so, I'll work by Cunning, and seem to join with them, in acknowledging their Doughty General here, till I have means and power to Revenge— and then pour on his Head with fiercest Rancour. Aside Well Sir, since I see the People find ye worthy of this Honour, To Massaniello. and that I may ne'er be counted hinderer of this Great Work we aim at— I am content to submit to your Command— and to prove it, thus show my Homage; Shout then once more with me, Friends, and cry, Long live Thomas Annello of Amalfi, alias Massaniello, Captain-Geneneral of the Neapolitans.  Omnes. 
Long live Thomas Annello of Amalfi, alias Massaniello, Captain-General of the Neapolitans.— They Shout.  Massan. 
My Friends, I thank ye, and my brave Perone, live henceforth in my Bosom as my Brother; and first then, to endear myself the better, I'll give thee my Commission for my Major— Joint with my Brother in Command and Love. Next my brave Ajax, I appoint thee Captain. To Bartallo. My exquisite Man-maker, thou shalt be Lieutenant. To Valasco. And Stichite cum Stampo, my brave Cobbler, Ensign; all my Boys, all shall have Offices fitting your Worth and Bravery of Souls; particularly thou, my witty Currier of the Law, my Quarrel-Broker, thou Pen and ink Man, as my Bosom Favourite, I create my Secretary and Pillar of the State. To Rock.  Rock. 
Thank your good Lordship;— nay, I knew 'twould come to this, for the Crown of my Head has itched damnably of late, a certain Sign of approaching Dignity:— I knew I should be a Great Man,— Secretary o'th' People,— rare rare Place! Gad I'll make the Money stick to my Fingers bravely, as soon as ever I come into't.  Massan. 
Raise high the Arms of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, who by his Charter, granted Naples Freedom, without cursed Gabels, or these late Exactions; Then let us send a Message to the Palace of Don Tiberio, Prince of Bissignano, who I design to be our Emissary between the Viceroy and our dear loved People; and Trusty Rock, I appoint to Summon him: If he comply with us and our Interest, he's Safe; if not, immediate Ruin seizes him. 
Follow me, Friends all,  
To the great Cathedral,  Where we'll hear Mass with show of high Devotion; 
And as we pass along, be this our Cry,  
Let the King Live, but the ill Government Die:  
Then th' Saints Invoke,— and to do all things well,  
First we will say our Prayers,   Genou. 
And then Rebel— Exeunt.  
The End of the First Act.    

ACT II.  

SCENE I.  The Cathedral dedicated to the Holy Virgin of Carmine, where Massaniello is discovered lying a Sleep under the Altar, the People Guarding him: Dialogue Sung between Fate and 
* St. Genaro Recorded Protector of Naples.  St. Genaro, at a distance: Then Music is heard, and a Song, expressing Revolutions to come; which ended, Massaniello rises and Speaks. 

SONG between Fate and St. Genaro.  Fate. 
FRom Azure Plains, blessed with Eternal Day,  
Celestial flowery Groves, that ne'er decay;  
From Lucid Rocks that Sol's bright Rays let in,  
Where with unclouded Brow,  
I sat and viewed the Deeps below,  
And saw my Female Drudges Spin;  
I Fate am come, thy Courage to improve,  
'Tis the Eternal's Doom Engraved in Adamant above;  
And oh! thou drowsy Deity,  
That dost in Slumbers bind  
The Body of Mortality,  
And calm the stormy Mind;  
No more, no more his Brain possess  
With the soft Charm of gentle Peace;  
He must awake to bloody Wars,  
Unbounded Fury, civil jars,  
And is by heavens' decree, for wondrous deeds designed.  St. Genaro Protector of Naples, descends and Sings. St. Gen. 
To mighty Fate all must obey,  
And conquering Hero's greatest Kings,  
Amongst the rest of human things,  
Yield to his dreadful Sway.  
Yet view thy Book of Dooms once more,  
Thou there wilt find one happy hour,  
When Naples shall be free from Rebel power;  
'Tis sure as the revolving year,  
And I her darling Saint appear,  
To stop thy Fury, lest it should exceed,  
And tell thee, tho' permission of this ill  
Is Sacred Mystery and th' Eternal's Will,  
Yet he that does the Deed,  
For doing it must bleed.  Fate. 
Hear each Neighbouring Destiny,  
Who the Souls of Mortalsfree,  
Hear my Voice, and straight obey,  
Heaven commands, the Work must stay.  
Such a number and no more,  
Must increase your fatal store,  
And he must die, the task being o'er:  
Remember all 'tis so decreed,  
That he that does this mighty Deed,  
For doing it must bleed.   Massan. 
Miraculous Vision! O Celestial Deity! Thou that inspir'st my heart to undertake by Mystic words dressed in harmonious Sound, things that surpass Experienced Understanding; as with thy blessed Idea in my Dream I have been Ecstasied— so teach me now Kisses his Medal. the way to act, the Sense to comprehend these Wonders, meant for the relief of Naples; with Sacred Power, Charm my plebeian Soul; let but my Country's Freedom crown the Period, my threatened Fall I'll then despise and Laugh at. 
Mount o'er all Dangers that would stop my way,  
And make the proudest of our Foes Obey.  Shout within. Here comes my Jesuit, my new Church Engine, used to encourage Fires, not to quench 'em, whose Head and Counsels till I'm fixed, I yield to; but when the Sword I grasp with Power Supreme, I'll trust a Priest no longer with my Politics.  Enter Genovino. Massan. 
How now, my Brain's Inspirer, what's the News?  Genou. 
News that will make the Viceroy quake, my Son: we're now full twenty Thousand, Armed and Resolute, and e'er the Sun plunges in Western Seas— 'tis well believed, shall double twice the number: The eager People throng us.  Massan. 
What meant that Shout?  Genou. 
They are burning now the House of Don Rocella, Farmer of the gabels, with all his costly Furniture and Plate, huge Coffers too, pregnant with Gold and Jewels, pursuant to your Order lately made, every the Flame, and dazzle the Beholders: Then as each wealthy Burden is thrown in, the People shout their Joy.  Massan. 
'Tis as I'd have it.  Genou. 
Now will I sound him in my own Affair, the time is apt, Aside. Troth my brave Son of Flame, I must deal plainly,— I confess my Heart was moved with some Compassion at the Sight.  Massan. 
Your Eyes were only dazzled too, that was all.  Genou. 
Zeal for the Cause, my Son, may be too strong, that rashly throws away the precious means that can empower and arm the Cause-defenders to prosecute their pious Undertaking.  Massan. 
Honest Intention must empower and arm us, and the despoiling of Delinquents Treasure, will let the world know, 'tis th' impulse of Conscience, and not of Gain, that rights the injured People.  Genou. 
Call it not Conscience, say Necessity, the word will do as well:— Th' impulse of Conscience; What is't you mean, good Son?  Massan. 
I did believe, that word would suffocate his Understanding. Aside.  Genou. 
Conscience is but our tenderest part of Reason; and Reason urging our Self-preservation, shows it must be too by the goods of Fortune: The Church is Indigent, which might be helped by sharing Wealth, thus— strangely thrown away.  Massan. 
The Church is rich in Grace.  Genou. 
Grace— Grace is no Glebe to gratify the Body, though it may feast the Soul:— Grace buys no Cassocks for one, though another's shine with spiritual Clothing; therefore I say, these Treasures might be saved for pious uses; myself I mention not, though my needs perhaps are urgent, but for the Church, for if the Church wants Necessaries, its Flock will want Instruction.  Massan. 
Oh your Charity binds ye to that for your reward Celestial.  Genou. 
Our Charity! and for reward Celestial: Our Charity! why certainly he's Crazed, he would else know a Jesuit ne'er had any. Aside.  Massan 
But now I think on't, you have cleared my sight, and from hence forth I shall discern much better; for who e'er understood the worth of Gold, or like the black Robe, with such sense can praise it? Since than you have inspired me with such Knowledge, I am resolved to prize the gaudy Mammon, rake up large heaps, and build myself a Fortune, too strong for Fate to Level:— This is thy Policy I know, my Machiavil, to have me Rich, then consequently Great— and it shall thrive as thou hast forged it;— for thyself, I know thou art so Temperate— so Religious, Devotion and the luxury of Prayer, is thy delicious Banquet;— feed on my Father, 
Feast and grow fat with thy Scraphick Toils  
Whilst I regale upon these golden Spoils.  Exit.  Genou. 
Whilst he regales upon 'em— very good, this snagged Swordfish Banters me— 'tis plain; he'll rake up heaps and build himself a Fortune— as I have Plotted— hum— that was not my meaning; and since he will not understand me right, perhaps I'll make the meaning— his Destruction; this fruitful Brain can work the other way; can, nay, I now resolve on't, it shall do't, since he'll afford me nothing but Devotion to fatten with, I shall not court his Keeping; he says, I feast on Prayers, Seraphic Joys; but I know he's a Dunce, and now he's gone,— he lies.  Rock. 
Valasco.  Valasc. 
Sir. Enter Rock and Valasco.  Rock. 
Come, bring a Table, a great Chair, Pen, Ink and Paper,— quickly, come stir, stir— and done't think to sit still Crosslegged at your Work, as you did when you were a Tailor; remember you are a Clerk now— and in place to mend the State— not with a Needle, but a Pen, ye Rogue.  Valas. 
Well, well, d'ye see, your Worship knows well enough how I used to flourish my Shop-Bills— I put down all our Trade for Flourishing, that all our Parish knows— I made the best Ms, O's and Bs d'ye see of any of our Trade; M, for Stay-Tape, O, for Lockram, and B, for Canvas; I outdid 'em all cleverly, therefore I warrant ye your Worship need not doubt my Clerkship. Rock reads a Paper, Exit to fetch the things.  Genou. 
Oh! here's that impudent Scoundrel, his new Favourite; this Fellow must have Office and Preferment, when I must be neglected, 'tis very well, let me consider a little.  Enter Valasco with a Table, etc. Rock. 
Hum, let me see a list of the Delinquents: their number, Thirty two:— Ah. How every one of these will bribe me, to save their Houses from burning, which sha'n't be obtained with a little, that I resolve on; rare, rare Fortune! gad I'm Transported at it.  Genou. 
Oh, now I have it, Perone must be my Engine; his late disgust against this proud Fish-General— is but hid over with some subtle Embers, the Fire will soon break out again, and shall not want for blowing.  Rock. 
How now, what makes this Priest here, with a cloudy lower upon his Forehead too, as if the Devil and his Conscience had been just quarrelling about some State Stratagem— hum, this household Pagod, with a Breath like an Easterly Wind, this Reverend Caterpillar shan't spoil my Fruit I'm resolved on't. D'ye hear there, 'tis the General's Pleasure, that all forbear this Place, appointed for Examination of Delinquents.— Oh, is your Reverence there, I cry you Mercy,— but you must excuse me, I must know my Place. Sits down to the Table.  Genou. 
Your Place, Sir.  Rock. 
Yes, my Place, Sir,— nay, nay, don't think to fright me with your Picture of the Inquisition there, your terrible Phiz in Frowns, I say, I say again, I know my Place, Sir.  Genou. 
And I mine, Sir, is not this the Church?  Rock. 
The Church— good Domine, what then, was the Church made for no more uses than yours? Was the Church built only to roost the Rooks, I mean the Jesuits— Pish, don't ye see we make a Garrison on't. How now, Captain. Enter Bartallo.  Bart. 
We have seized on the Horses, and please you, for the General's use, where must they be put?  Rock. 
Hum— stay a little— put,— why put 'em up in the North Isle, just by the Pulpit.  Genou. 
Here's fine Management! bless me, is that a place for Horses?  Rock. 
Horses, yes, Sir, and why not for Horses?— gad, as things go now, I think 'tis filled with a better sort of Cattle, than with your Tribe, by much; for if a Horse can't do the General better Service than a Jesuit, my Politics are very barren.— Well, what now, Lieutenant.  Enter Scipio. Scip. 
Why and like your good Honour, Mr. Sec. Sec. Secar—  Rock. 
Well, well, Mr. Secretary; I know what thou wouldst say; what apox, does my Title stick in thy Throat?  Scip. 
Ay, ay, Mr. Secretary, and please ye, there's the great Don— within, Don— Don— why look now, if my Brain ben't as spongy as an old Shoe Sole, Don— Don— wheigh— why what a Dickins ails my Pate now? I used to be as sharp as an Awl, wheigh— the Great great Man and please ye, that you sent the Writing— the what d'ye call't, the Salmon to this Morning.  Rock. 
The Salmon, the Summons, ye Blockhead you; ah, this Fellow will never make a Statesman:— Oh I know him now, 'tis the Great Prince of Bissignano, Don Tiberio, whom I have frighted hither by the General's Order. Valasco,— go you and introduce him— and d'ye hear, put on your face of Business and look Grum upon him— 'twill draw his Purse the sooner.  Valasc. 
I warrant ye— I'll look upon him d'ye see, as another great Don used to look upon me, when I went to carry in my Bill.  Exeunt Scipio and Valasco. Rock. 
Come, come, Sir, no more of your Chancel Grimaces, your Brow Lectures now,— here's matters of State going forward, which I know you all long to have a finger in,— but Mum for that, my good Mass john— some wiser than some; therefore Presto I say,— and let your Learning please to withdraw itself instantly into your Study;— show, show your Back side, I beseech ye, Sir.  Genou. 
I shall, Sir, and show it whole too, which yours shall not be long, if Whips with Wyre, retain their lashing faculty, if it does, then say this Brain's fit only to make Sauce on; and so I give ye to old Belzebub; now my intention's right, you may depend on't. Ex. Genou.  Rock. 
Pox on him, what a Jerk the Rogue has given my Apprehension, for though I know I'm now too Great to be in danger of such a Punishment,— yet his words have made me as uneasy— as if the Cat with Nine-tails were just coming 'cross my Shoulders.— I have deserved Whipping, and worse than Whipping, I confess, in many Passages of my Life, but I think that's more than he knows; I was thirteen Years together bred up under a Roguish Pettifogger, where I learned to be a Law-Cheat, to take all Advantages by the foretop that afforded Money, and bid perpetual defiance to Honesty and Conscience, yet still I 'scap'd— and now the Dice run higher, I think myself in a Post rather to cause others to be Whipped, than to be Flauged myself. Oh here's the Prince— hum, now for a sullen morose Look, a damned ill-natured Phiz— like a City Magistrate pronouncing Sentence of Death upon a young lusty Highwayman, that he was satisfied a little while before, had made him a Cuckold.  Enter Don Tiberio with a Purse, and Valasco. D. Tib. 
Well my mighty Sir in Office— now I have given ye your Fee, which by your Signs you taught my Apprehension, what progress will you make in my Affairs? Where must this Summons lead me?  Valasc. 
Why yonder, d'ye see, Sir,— yonder's the Secretary, and as keen at his Business as a pair of Shears upon a Cutting-board:— Hark ye, Sir, I must tell ye he's plaguy deaf of this hithermost Ear— and the Drum on't is not to be penetrated, unless by the chink of Money; that Purse perhaps may stand your Friend, or else it will be a hard matter to make him hear, yet I'll try him;— Sir, Sir,— here's the great Don— the Prince you sent for, come to—  Rock. 
The Duke of Cavano's House too— noted, that burns to Morrow.  Don. Tib. 
By Heaven, my Kinsman, one of our Houses Principals— and if I heard the Gorgon Head speak right, he said his House— must burn to morrow— hear ye, you Sir, you Minister of Fate and deeds of Horror, what said you of the Duke of Cavano?— he will not answer me, or hears me not.  Valasc. 
Oh I told ye, Sir— he was very thick of Hearing.  Don. Tib. 
And yet my Purse can cure it.  Valasc. 
Hum— the Purse has a particular Virtue indeed; Gold has its precious faculty— for Ears as well as Eyes, Gold will do it cleverly.  Don Tib. 
Thou art a very Rogue, through all thy Senses.  Rock. 
The next, the Duke of Mataloni.  Don Tib. 
Ha— my Friend too— Hear me thou— Son of Mammon, I charge thee answer me,— and for a Bribe, take here this golden Offering— but speak, I conjure thee. Gives the Purse.  Rock. 
Valasco,— set the Gentleman a Chair.  Don Tib. 
What must befall my Friend, my Bosom Intimate, dear as its innate Guest, my Heart— my Mataloni.  Rock. 
He is Proscribed, his Wife is to be Seized, and their House burnt and Plundered.  Don Tib. 
When, when, thou Author of damned News?  Rock. 
At Seven this Evening;— and now, Sir, no more Questions, you've had your Pennyworth;— nor is it usual with me to afford such rich Discoveries so cheap.  Don Tib. 
At Seven, cursed Chance, how much it wants of that now, I know not, nor how to be Resolved, for here am I, on forfeit of Estate and Life, Summoned to attend the General of the Rabble— and so incapable to aid my Friend— yet stay, some Notice might be given:— Dost hear, my Friend, what Hour is't think'st thou now? Curse on his sordid Soul, he's Dumb again. to Valasco, he Grimaces, but won't speak. This damned mercenary Rogue expects Money— only to tell what a Clock 'tis; well there, there's another Sop, good Cerberus— now wilt thou tell me?  Valasc. 
I on my Conscience, think it may be Five,— and pray Sir, be Patient, you'll be heard presently, the General d'ye see, is coming.  Don Tib. 
These are rare Rogues in Office, they use a Nobleman like a Dog-whipper:— Hark thee, Friend, one thing more, if your speaking Clock be not quite run down, I must request, and there's all I have to purchase it, which is, to call one of my Servants hither, for I have forgot a Paper at home, which concerns me extremely.  Valasc. 
It shall be done, and cleverly. taking the Money. Exit.  Don Tib. 
I've yet, I hope, time enough to set down in my Tables their horrible Resolves, and to forewarn the Duke of his approaching Danger. Writes in his Tables.  Enter Valasco, with a Servant. Valasc. 
Come hither with thy best speed, convey these Tables to the Duke of Mataloni— run as thy Life were in thy haste concerned— he will Reward thee well.  Servant. 
I Fly, my lord Exit Servant.  Rock. 
Are the Chandler's Wives dispatched to the Hospital, to Rave there, whose Husbands were Hanged this Morning?  Valasc. 
All, all, and please ye— I saw a Dozen of 'em roaring together in a Flock; and 'twill be a warning to the rest, I'll warrant ye, how they use false Weights and Scales.  Rock. 
Nay, I doubt not but we shall bring things to some order in time. Adso— my Lord the Prince, what are you here still?— Alas, my Head is so busied with things of Importance, that I protest I had forgot your Highness;— well I suppose you would fain know the General's Business with ye— but as for that matter, without—  Don Tib. 
Without, if he means more Gold, he must Coin it, for on my Honour, I'm drawn dry already.  Rock. 
Without, I say, the Means to procure the Secret, it will, I suppose, be Impossible:— Hem, hem— Times are altered, my Lord, they were yours once— hem— hem, now we come in for our share.— Hum,— Odzooks, here comes the General himself— Pox on him, this was a little too soon tho, or I had had that Ring on his Finger there for another Discovery.  Enter Massaniello, Perone, Bartallo, Scipio, Jacomo, and the Rabble. Massan. 
The Houses I Proscribed, let 'em all down, but on your Lives, no more, without my Order; the Plunder too, I will consider on— and henceforth, remember, without the form of Speaking, to understand your Duty by my Motion.  jacom. 
We shall, most Noble Sir, wag but your Hand, Thumb, Finger, or but Nod,— 'tis done as quick as Lightning.  Massan. 
Begin you at St. Carlo,— throw your Brand at Cavano's Palace; and my Favourite Captain, besure you singe the Traitor Mataloni, let not a post remain to bear his Structure, but let your fury burn his Goods as greedily as late he sucked the Life-blood of the People— away.—  He waves his Hand, they start out. Omnes. 
We're gone, brave General.  Massan. 
There's Discipline; this looks like a Commander.— Ha, yonder's the Prince, Perone, a word with thee.— Thou seest that Lord there— he is the only Man I'd chose 'mongst all the Court, to negotiate Matters between us and the Viceroy;— within this Paper is my Will contained,— I'm positive here, and so I would have thee, If he denies what there is offered to him— tell him he shares the Fate of Mataloni;— go, take him aside, pretend I've weighty Business, and cannot hold Discourse with him myself▪  Perone. 
Leviathan Impudence, but I'll smother all yet, let him swell on, and he will burst himself— Aside. My Lord, the General's Head being full of Business, has ordered me to unsold his Pleasure to ye.  Enter Pedro, and whispers Massaniello. Don Tib. 
His Pleasure,— insolent Slave,— this is another upstart Devil, he looks too as if he all his Life had smoked in Pluto's Kitchen; not deign— a word, Sir, what is his Mightiness so crammed—  Perone. 
Softly, my Lord, he has quick Ears, and then— come, no more words, but follow me.  Don Tib. 
I vex in vain— 'tis madness to oppose 'em. Oh! Fortune, Fortune, whither wilt thou hurry me? Exit with Perone.  Massan. 
What are the Women up too, sayst thou, Brother, and Blowzabella my Wife, at their Head?  Pedro. 
Most Captain like I'faith— my Spouse is got amongst 'em too for Company; these at the head of Numbers, strut in the Streets, and Armed with such variety of Weapons, 'twould e'en puzzle Arithmetic;— they're ready for an Attack too, a Attack.  Massan. 
Ha, Ha, hah.— What Goose or Turkey walled round with powerful Crust, are they for Storming?  Pedro. 
' Zooks, they talk of battering Castle-walls, and I know not what; and my Sister Blouse is so wrapped up with the thought of Plundering the Duchess Mataloni of her Jewels, that her very words are nothing but Pearl and Diamonds.— Hark'e, here they come Ifaith— now observe and wonder.  Shout, and strange Sounds made within. Enter Blowzabella, Ursula, and Rabble of other Women, dressed Ridiculously, and Armed with several sorts of Weapons, bringing in three Prisoners. Blowz. 
Bring in the Prisoners, and keep your Ranks— Close my Lasses,— Wheel to the Right, to the Right, to the Right about; there see now— Where's the General? Where's the brave Tomazo?— Oh, art thou there my Scanderbag, come Kiss me, and then tell me— how dost thou like me,— hah?  Massan. 
Like thee, hah, hah, hah, why this is Wonderful; prithee Wife, what mean'st thou?— What Work hast thou been cutting out, hah?  Blowz. 
Plundering, Plundering, My Lad, Plundering, Stripping Lace off of Petticoats, and pulling Gold Rings off of Fingers.— In short, I have been Bobbing for a sort of Female-Grigs— they call forsooth your Gentlewomen,— couldst thou imagine, whilst thou wert fishing for Courtiers, that I would sitidly at home slaying of Eels?— No, no, Child, I rose as thou didst, owned and carried the Cause; then gathering my She Swashbucklers together, Armed instantly, and wheree'er we saw a Silkworm crawl, we Seized her; see, here's one of 'em, this, this is forsooth a Gentlewoman, and as I'm told, belonged to the Vicequeen:— You may suppose the Dress I have put her in, has somewhat altered her, but upon the Honour of a Fishwife, she's a Gantlewoman every inch of her.  Massan. 
Why Faith that may be, but her Air seems to have very much of the Vulgar in't at present.  Ursula. 
This is the superfine Madam de Rocell, Wife to the Prior, Farmer of the gabels, she had Brooches of Diamonds about her when I met her first, and Bobs of Pearl in her Ears as big as Pears; alas— what pity 'tis, that Madam should be stripped, but Madam, I hope you'll Excuse it, we are rude Common-People Madam— your Servant good Madam, in Troth 'tis great Pity—  Pedro. 
My Spouse there may show her shame Pity as she pleases, but if I had met Madam in a buy Place— I believe I should have made bold to have stripped her a little further— Gad she has a dainty Face for all her Rags, and puts me so in mind of a plump black-eyed Beggar-wench I had once.  Massan. 
But what's the tother there?  Blowz. 
And this here is one of the Marrow-puddings of Trade, a Citizen's Wife, a sleek, fine, fat, little finical thing, that would melt in a Courtier's Mouth like a Comfit: I took her Oagling at her Shop-door, and trussed her up under my Wing like a Gizzard:— she had her Gems and her Pearls too,— besides a fine golden Gown, that her Cuckold bought her by Cheating the People, at Twelve i'th' Hundred;— there she is a little moody, I see, at her odd Rigging;— her Husband may take his Tortoise again, if he pleases, but for her Shell— that's disposed of.  Massan. 
Bradamant— why ye all have done Gloriously— gloriously— and what's to be the next Exploit, dear Wedlock, hah?  Blowz. 
The Duchess of Mataloni; we have contrived it, therefore leave it to our Management, and if before to Morrow Noon, thou seest me not tricked in her Jewels like an Indian Queen,— then say, which some believe impossible— a Woman's Mischief has Miscarried.— And to show thee that we are capable of doing greater things than you imagine, you shall see us Exercise, and pray observe what Diligence has learned, Handle your Arms there.  A Dance here, showing their Exercise. Massan. 
'Tis well, and Soldierlike— go on then, my Bellona, and you, Brother, to the Gate of San Lorenzo; 
March with your Troops, and as you pass, still cry,  
Let the King Live, but the ill Government Die.  Ex. severally.   

SCENE II.  Enter Mataloni, Duchess, and a Servant, the Duke holding the Tables in his Hand. Dutch. 
Oh, I can never bear it, my dear Lord, that moment you depart, my Life-blood follows.  Matal. 
Why then, let Fate contrive its bloodiest Scene, I'll stay and dare all Accidents, grasp thee thus— within the circle of my eager Arms, and smile on the grim Hell hounds that would part us.  Dutch. 
Could I go with thee, Heaven, what would I venture! what Walls would I climb, or what vast Deeps would I plunge! for though I show a Woman in my Tears, my Courage— yet for you would hazard Wonders.  Matal. 
I know thou couldst, thou quintessence of Goodness, do more than Woman;— but Oh, I must not suffer thee! I know thou wouldst, with me, leap from the Window into the Moat, as I must, for my Safety, but I'll not do't to hinder thee,— no, 'tis but Death, if I stay here— and 'twill be that without thee.  Dutch. 
Oh, name not Death, I had forgot that Horror!  Matal. 
Give Friend, your Lord, my best Acknowledgement, but tell him, I'm resolved to stand my Fortune.  Dutch. 
Not for the World— Oh, pardon me dear Life, my Womanish Folly, I had forgot your danger, you are proscribed to die if you are found, yet I would keep ye here: Oh, racking Torture, was e'er Misery so truly great as mine?— Go, go, my Lord, my Doom in those cursed Tables, is but trivial Imprisonment, and perhaps a daily Basting by the Rabble, Village Curs, or Cold, or Hunger, matters of nothing,— but yours is Death, my Lord, Life's deprivation;— the full gust of Horror blows with that word, upon me— endless Woe, Despair, and all the Miseries of Humanity fall then at once upon my wretched Head, 
And make me, that so late implored your stay,  
Distracted beg ye now to haste away.   Matal. 
Great Providence, whose all-controlling Will, hast for our Crimes, sent down this Plague on Naples, and mak'st the sparks of bright Nobility, lie hid in the vile Ashes of the Rabble, behold with pity, Beauty in distress, with Virtue joined, than that more Charming far; 
Oh, let her still thy Care peculiar be,  
And always blessed, what e'er becomes of me.   Dutch. 
Oh, hear me too— thus low with bended Duty, I beg the Power that taught us first to Love, to look on him most perfect in that Passion, and best deserving it in its Perfection: 
To guard his Life, Celestial care employ,  
And I shall find all Blessings in my Joy.   Matal. 
One dear Embrace then, and so part. She Weeps. What yet again? Nay, I must Chide ye now, we both have Prayed, and must not doubt Success.  Dutch. 
Oh, pardon me, within my Breast is such a Sea of Sorrow, some must overflow the Banks, I cannot help it.  Matal. 
I'll make the Fences stronger with fresh hopes of our quick Meeting and repeated Joy, so once more Adieu, Sweet.  Dutch. 
My Life's sole Joy, Farewell.  Matal. 
Come, bear up boldly, and now to the fatal Window, through which my Brother is already gone, unseen by the Bloodhounds that have us in the Wind, and stop all other ways and avenues: One kind Look more, and turn that way, Sweet. 
Thus when o'ercome by fierce Diseases power,  
The sad Physician gives his Patient o'er.  
Thus does the Tyrant of our Lives, control,  
And thus divides the Body from the Soul.  Exeunt.  
The End of the Second Act.    

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter Perone and Genovino. Genou. 
YOU may believe me.  Peron. 
And may be abused; you have not yet enough, Sir, cleared your Credit.  Genou. 
You shall have further proof, my venturous Actions shall henceforth justify my Inclination, and back the force of these bold Words, which are, 
That from my Heart, I loathe this Upstart Fellow;  
This headstong Fool; this Mushroom, Massaniello.   Peron. 
You say enough; but may one trust a Jesuit, knowing his Principles?  Genou. 
When the trust proposed relates to his Revenge, be sure you may.  Peron. 
Nay, Sir, I will be sure; for to deal plainly, I have not yet been bred with any Candour for Persons of your Order.  Genou. 
I believe it, and will not stick to say, perhaps with reason, the People generally, have strange Notions of us, and you, I see, are biased by Opinion.— 'Tis true, Church-Interest, and the forward Zeal we use to prop its Power, raises up many Enemies, some whereof, burst into rude and vilifying Terms, and in plain words, Abuse us.  Peron. 
Yes indeed, I have often heard 'em deal so plainly with ye, to say, You're all a pack of Rogues.  Genou. 
Ha, ha, ha,— 'tis likely— but you must know then, Sir Captain, these were all Sophisters.  Peron. 
How, how, Sophisters?  Genou. 
Even so, you may depend on't; I know it by their word of double meaning— for Rogue was meant no more than Politician, a witty Rogue, a subtle Rogue, a rich Rogue; the word is oft mistook, but means no harm; why Knave, 'cause ' ti● obsolete, is now Corrupted, which meant of old, a Servant, and no more: Then, Sir, as you may be a Knave, yet Honest, so we two may be Rogues, and yet no Villains.  Peron. 
At this rate, this Fellow will make it out, that a Son of a Whore may have an honest Woman to his Mother.  Genou. 
But come, Captain, pray be particular— a little more;— What noted Crime are we found guilty of?  Peron. 
Ah— numbers, numbers, Sir, more than your Beads can furnish ye with Prayers to make atonement for, but one among the rest most Scandalous; they say, you'll set your Penitents a Gaming for Masses for their Souls, and that the Fortunate delivering you that still sit by, his Win, has his si●s Pardoned him for his luck at Cribbage.  Genou. 
Why look'e, as to Penitents dole for Masses, truly there may be something in't, and practicable, but that we play at Cribbage, is a Story, our Game is always Put, we know no Cribbage.  Peron. 
Oh, with your Reverence's leave, I know you'll vouch all Games, rather than lose the Stakes: But come, toth' Point. Suppose thou art Sincere in this Affair, what's to be done with Massaniello? What shall we Murder him— ha Boy?  Genou. 
Convey a Bullet cleanly through his Head,— not Murder him, no, no, that were Undecent.  Peron. 
Nay, nay, I know he uses the Church scurvily, that is he denies 'em Money, and that's a Damning Sin.  Genou. 
Oh, past hope of Pardon.  Peron. 
And if I should Murder him—  Genou. 
Why ye should have Absolution, the thing is excellent Service, but the word grates.  Peron. 
And what Security for no Betraying?  Genou. 
The sacred Word and Honour of the College, who all will join in the Confederacy, to animate the giddy Hot-brained People, and in his stead, to make you General: Come, Captain, 'tis in vain longer to hide your close Design, a Jesuits Head is waking, when others are in Dreams; we have found out your Correspondence with Carraffa's Faction, and know you are Intrigued with Mataloni:— Since then we know this, yet make no discovery,— you see the Danger's equal, therefore may trust— let us be Rogues, or otherwise, 'tis no matter.  Peron. 
And you will bring your Brethren to vouch this.  Genou. 
Go with me and be satisfied, however the World taints us for Treacheries, we are true to one another;— come, be Wise, resolve on Massaniello's Fall— then Rise.  Peron. 
Well, Sir, lead on, and as I find this real, a Throat may soon be Cut.  Genou. 
I ask no more. Be then our General, and take the Church's Blessing.  Crosses him. Exeunt. Enter Massaniello Guarded, and Don Tiberio. Petitioners waiting with Papers. Massan. 
My Lord, I lately sent you my Decree, have you resolved upon't?  Don Tib. 
What Sir, to negotiate the People's Business.  Massan. 
With the Viceroy; yes, 'twas set down so.  Don Tib. 
In what Sir, with my Honour I can serve 'em, I'll ne'er refuse to do my Country good, provided 'tis no blemish to Nobility.  Massan. 
My Lord, you so much Idolise Nobility, that you'd even make the very word a Scarecrow, but we are no such Children to be frighted; Nobility,— what's that but Power and Riches, the Will to Govern, and the Means to do so; a Titular Nobleness, is vacant Air, a trifling Sound of no Validity: What care I how the Herald's Art can Blazon, since I've Power and Riches, I've Nobility, or good my Lord, what am I in your Fancy?  Don Tib. 
You are I know not what, something that 'mongst all Tongues, must want a Title; you are beyond Prodigious, Language fails and Reason's at a loss, that would Expound ye; your Pardon Sir, I am but newly practised in the Trade of Flattery and Dissimulation.  Massan. 
What, and yet a Courtier! Damnation! is that Possible? Did ever Creature breath in that rank Air, that was not skilled in both those Qualities?— Not Flatter nor Dissemble, say not Live; for riotous Meat and Drink, nor gaudy clothes, Hounds, Horses, Whores, your constant Properties in their Perfection, are not half so natural as Flattery and Dissembling to a Courtier.  Don Tib. 
I shall not make this good, Sir.  Mass. 
Shall ye Comply? Enter Rock and Petitioners, who give Papers to Mass.  
Come, come, you must, 'tis Death, if you deny.  Don. Tib. 
Was ever Plague so mortally Severe? Had ever Kingdom so debased a Curse? the Noble Blood of my great Ancestors boils in my Veins with Anger and Disdain, and yet the Frown of this Plebeian Fellow, spite of my Nature, Awes me; sure 'tis th' effect of Witchcraft, Hell is just setting up a Common wealth, and all the Devils conspire against Nobility.  Rock. 
Your Wife Sir, with the Duchess Mataloni Rifled and Plundered, are just coming in;— she's as good as her word Faith, she has stuck herself all over with Jewels, as thick as a Sir-loyn of Roast-Beef is with Rosemary at Christmas,— I had a fling at her Grace too, I told her a Lie, and had a Diamond-Ring worth a hundred Ducats for't.— Rare, rare doings, Sir,— gad little did I think of ever living to see such blessed days.  Enter Blowzabella, awkerdly dressed and decked with jewels; then Duchess Mataloni, led by Ursula, and the Duchess in mean Habit, Weeping. Massan. 
Attend all to Morrow Morning, and I'll give ye Hearing to Petitioners  Don Tib. 
Bane to my Eyes— who would thank Providence for that dear Gift, that was confined to see such dismal Sights as these?  Ursul. 
Why Sister, you don't mind my Brother there.  Blowz. 
Oh— I look the Greater for that, ye Fool, Husbands and Wives should be careless of one another;— besides, what have I Tricked up myself thus for, but that every Body should see me now, and I see no Body; besides, this is nothing— the next time I Dress, the Son, Moon, and Seven Stars— shall look like Farthing-candles to me. Sister, prithee mind Tomaz now, do but see how he stares at me; I'll take no notice of him, but pretend to be full of Business, as he does.  Massan. 
She thinks she's Fine, I warrant, 'sDeath and Hell,— was ever any thing so Monstrous— as course Deformity in gaudy Trappings, I nauseate it, but must not show it now.— Ha, what was that! methought a Dart shot from that Mourning Beauty— pierc'd through my Soul; my Soul, though of a piece with my course Body, yet feels the smart, obeys the power of Beauty, and makes me say aloud— She's Admirable.  Dutch. 
No more, my Lord, let my Misfortunes hide me for ever from your sight, and I do beseech ye, leave me.  Don Tib. 
Thou Beauteous Partner of my dearest Friend, thou charming Form that now mak'st Sorrow amiable; I will, but yet believe, thou Shrine of Virtue, 'tis only that I may the better serve thee; my Stars have here condemned me to their Interest, an Interest that I hate as I love Honour; and if that metamorphosed Female Brute there, has any spark of Womanish softness in her, she shall in spite of Nature, use ye well. They Whisper.  Blowz. 
Carry the Prisoner to the place I ordered— What say ye, Sir, would ye speak with me?— Hum, well, what is't?  Massan. 
She goar'sand wounds me still; and now methinks the whole, composure of my Frame, is altered— I tremble and am ashamed to know myself.— Ha, what did I say I Trembled, 'tis impossible, can my Heart tremble, that is steeled with Power? Trembling implies a Fear; what can I fear, that have unquestioned Power to command all, and can enjoy what e'er that Power possesses:— Again— there's no looking on her, I'm all o'er Flame th'th ' sudden:— Well, 'tis but ask and have, I'll send her word I like her, and if she prove peevish, fright her a little with her Lord's Proscription and she yields presently.— Rock, come hither, Thou sawst that weeping Woman there.  Rock. 
Who, Sir, the Duchess? Ay, she's a delicate bit faith,— gad I like her very well.  Massan. 
You do so.  Rock. 
Yes, Sir, under favour, I intent— I intent—  Massan. 
What is't you intent— hah?  Rock. 
Why Sir, I intent, I intent to—  Massan. 
Sir—  Rock. 
I say Sir, I intent to make her do your Excellency Justice.  Massan. 
You shall do so, go get her for me presently.  Rock. 
Get her, What does your Honour mean?— Have you a Paper ready? Would you have her Sign any thing?  Massan. 
Yes, Sir, and Seal too.— Therefore good Monsieur Secretary, I would advise you to practise your Employment, and make her supple d' hear? Supple for me, fit to take my Impression, and let your Liking flag, Sir Ink-Bottle; these are your Ears yet I suppose—  Rock. 
They are so, I suppose my Lord, I have had 'em a pretty while.  Massan. 
'Tis well; if you would have 'em so remain, be Diligent; you understand me. Exit Massaniello and Guards.  Rock. 
Hum— sits the Wind there— understand ye? Yes, yes, a Pox on ye, ye have given us all occasion to understand ye; we know now what he means by a pinch by the Ear, a tweak by the Nose, as well as if he had spoke Spanish:— He, I find, has a mind to the Duchess himself, and I as principal Officer in Trust, must solicit her for him; 'tis so, there's no avoiding it, if I design to keep my Place, this must be done; and I see now, 'tis in vain to think to make myself a Great Man, without being a Pimp into the bargain. Exit.  Don Tib. 
Will it please you to give me an Answer to my Suit, Madam?  Blowz. 
Why look'e Sir, cry Mercy— I think you are a Prince tho.  Don Tib. 
And your Ladyship's Humble Servant.  Blowz. 
Hum, that may not be much a-miss, as things may happen, Od'sfish, the Man's well made—  Don Tib. 
'Tis Madam, in favour of the Duchess, let me desire—  Blowz. 
Oh, gad ●o, the Duchess my Prisoner; and you desire— why look, my Lord, if we should all have our Desires, what would the World come to? Why you may desire one thing, and I may desire another thing, when as things may happen, you can neither have your thing, nor I have my thing; oh my word, this is a great thing to consider of— and you must think I know my Post, my Lord, what I must do; great things now.  Don Tib. 
Pox on her, has she forgot already the great things she used to do, when she sold Sprats at the Castle-Gate?— Ah, how the State-Mack●rel Surveys me; it may chance, that I may have a Hook for her, if it be so, the Duchess shall gain her end I'm sure.  Blowz. 
Well, I swear, I think I have not seen a more likely Person, the Man truly has, as one may say, a mighty promising Countenance; well, he has so, and he has a Suit to me, good again; and perhaps I've a Business for him to do, very well still; why the World is altered now, and things are changed from what they were, and Odsfish, I must not be as I have been— what, I must do great things now.  Don Tib. 
I'm still in hopes, Madam, you are thinking how to gratify my request.  Blowz. 
My Lord, you speak well, gratify; you would be Gratified you say, and desire my Prisoner may be tenderly used, and have Servants about her; well, my Lord, and how, pray, would you gratify for such a Favour?— Come, you are a Courtier, I am at present disposed to see a little of those Finicals;— How d'ye begin?  Don Tib. 
Why, first, Madam, with all respect imaginable, ● approach—  Blowz. 
Odsfish, is that approaching? Why, my Lord, you stand stock still.  Don Tib. 
At a respectful distance, Madam, always when we address to Great Persons. With Familiars; 'tis true, we often approach to the Lips.  Blowz. 
Ay, ay, to the Lips— Odsfish, that's better by half, if you must approach, approach as you should approach, to the purpose, my Lord.  Don Tib. 
Madam, this Favour is too great.  Blowz. 
Puh,— never speak on't, my Lord, I am not so straitlaced, but I can be familiar with my Equals upon occasion, and if you have an inclination to approach once again, my Lord—  Don Tib. 
The Devil— this is worse than her refusal;— Oh, how I hate an Oyster that opens of its own accord— but come, once more for the duchess's sake, I'll defy Garlic—  Blowz. 
So, my Lord, and now what think ye of my Person and Appearance? Pray be a little curious— here's no Rumper above, my Lord, nor no crooked Legs below.  Don Tib. 
Oh, Madam, your Person, like the rest, must be Admired  Blowz. 
'Tis true, Fortune used me a little coursely formerly, as to sell Fish, or so— but as to a Person, bring me any of your fine Ladies to discourse with me, or so, and Gads-fish, than you shall see.  Don Tib. 
Ah, you are so very exact by Nature, that methinks those Jewels might well be spared—  Blowz. 
Why truly Nature has not been niggardly, but by giving me these Jewels, Fortune I see, designs to be honest, and be out of my Debt, and I must use her now she's in Humour.  Don Tib. 
How the Dowdy has stuck herself in the dear duchess's Ornaments, and how like a Devil midst the Starry Region— does she appear: But hush— I must at her again— Aside. Come, Madam, do but dispatch this Grant, and then you bind me ever.  Blowz. 
Well, my Lord, let's walk in, and as I find your Reasons are substantial— I shall incline the more.— A handsome Man I'll be sworn he is— and approaches very well— why look'e things are altered now, and if my Husband should chance to be a Cuckold, why 'tis no more than what's in Fashion; I must not be as I have been, what, I must do great things now— Come, my Lord. Exeunt.  Enter Duchess, Rock whispering Ursula at a distance. Dutch. 
How near are those poor Wretches to despair, who dare too nicely scan the Acts of Providence! And, Oh, how grossly vile is poor Mortality, when it too highly values its Weak Reason, and fancies Heaven has done its Merit wrong— if I should number all my past Offences, can they deserve this Scourge, this worst of Misery? Yes, if Heaven thinks so: Let me then be Obedient, and like Great Cato's Daughter, bear Misfortunes with more than Roman Constancy; yet if Grief grows too strong, here is the Means, this dear Reliever Rescues me for ever, Shows a Viol Yonder are my Persecutors, and some new Plague I find, is hatching now between 'em: Fate do thy worst, let my dear Lord but 'scape 'em, these Mischiefs I'll contemn, and seem as Merry— as if their Villainies were my Diversion.  Rock. 
Once more I tell ye, you must deliver up your Charge to me, I have Business with her from the General, things of Importance Women, weighty Matters; there is a pressing Affair going forward— you must give way too, therefore be gone I say, your Husbands are yonder, toaping a full Bowl for joy of the good Plunder, at the Duke of Caivano's; go, go, and colour your Gills there, and leave this Lady to my management.  Ursul. 
Ay, with all my Heart, methinks I long to see how my Husband Pedro looks in his fine Golden Coat. Adsheartlikins, I warrant he's as proud as 'twere any Don himself. Exeunt.  Rock. 
Hem, hem, Madam, in short, you must know, Madam, that is, Madam, if you don't know already, that I am his Excellency's Secretary.  Rock pulls off his Hat awkerdly. Dutch. 
His Excellency's Secretary! bless me, how can I deserve this Honour? please ye, Sir, to take a Chair. He sits down.  Rock. 
You have very favourable Stars— Madam, for as you say, this Honour is not bestowed on every one— especially without Money. Aside.  Dutch. 
But how comes it, I beseech ye, Sir, that I am made thus Happy?  Rock. 
Why, you must know, Madam, that the General, who neither sees, says, nor does any thing without me, thought sit to take my hint of Commendation of that Forehead, Nose and Mouth of yours, after which too, to speak Unvulgarly, I expressed myself in praise of the Lilies and Roses in your Cheeks, your white Neck, and so forth, and at last, gave him signification, that you were altogether a very tolerable Person.  Dutch. 
Thou art in all Significations Intolerable I'm sure. Aside. Indeed, Sir, you oblige me extremely, and I can't forbear saying, that I am not a little proud, setting aside the General's liking, Sir, of the obliging Applause of a Person of your Merit and great Office.  Rock. 
Hum, 'tis so, I must be the Man I see, she begins to be sweet upon me already. Aside. Why faith, Madam, I must needs think those that are Wise, will always distinguish a Person of Place and Trust; you may Cringe and Compliment Kings and Keyzars, if you please, but to us you must come, if you'd have your Business done.  Dutch. 
True, Sir, I know it very well— and therefore since I've th' honour of your liking, what's matter what the General says or does?  Rock. 
Ah, what a bewitching Smile was there— she has charmed me so I cannot speak a word, and I must be a Traitor in spite of my Teeth.—  Dutch. 
Besides, to show myself grateful, Sir,— and give ye Praise for Praise, in my fancy now, that Chesnut Phiz of yours, but especially that Nose, prognosticating strange Events, is wondrous Taking.  Rock. 
I have her fast, for if she likes my Nose once, the rest follows in course.— But hark'e Madam, is this in Earnest? Am I so fine a Person faith— I should be glad to have some favour from ye as a proof.  Dutch. 
A Favour, you shall, take this Cordial and drink my Health— 'tis a warm Philtre will increase your Flame: To show you too 'tis an especial Favour, I'll use it with a Gust, when there's occasion; come, Sir, take six Go-downs.  Rock. 
Hum— what a Plague does she mean? It can't be Poison sure— Gad, I don't like the colour on't; why faith, Madam, I must beg your Pardon, I an't dry at present.  D. 
Oh, Luxury! Great Men, Sir, are always Thirsty;— come, you must take it.  Rock. 
But Madam, I have sworn never to drink between Meals.  Dutch. 
How, Sir, know then, since you such Grace refuse, Fortune thus flies ye, and Revenge a Rogue pursues. Exit Duchess.  Rock. 
That is, she'll tell the General, and he shall Hang me— gad I must after her and prevent that tho, for all my Fooling. Exit.   

SCENE II.  Enter Cardinal and Mataloni. Matal. 
My Lord, if ever humble Penitence yet influenced a Heart, believe, mine feels it; Oh, let me kneel and kiss your sacred Robe, thus low beg Pardon for my past Offence, then from my Soul thank you for this Discovery.  Card. 
'Tis too much, my Lord, pray rise, Heaven knows, how the vast bulk of your Misfortunes oppress my Heart, deep sense of which, and pity to your Lady, who is involved too in the general Ruin, has made me willing to divulge this Secret, which a bigoted Jesuit, crazed with the Plot even forced into my Bosom.  Matal. 
Hell of Barbarity! a Brother do this, a Brother plot my Ruin and my Wife's, for in her Death, is mine, with greatest Horror, and this too only for ambitious Vanity, to forge another Plot— without my knowledge, even as his Hot-Brain pleased.  Card. 
There's th' Arch-Contrivance, he knew your tender Passion for your Lady, a Prisoner now in Massaniello's House, would ne'er give your consent to act revenge by Fire; and therefore to effect his double Plot, you and Perone were to be Ignorant, for different Ends, you on your Lady's score, and he as being designed a Sacrifice with Massaniello, who, they give out, shall fall by Sword or Pistol; but 'tis indeed resolved by firing Mines under the Marketplace, and when the Throng is most, to ●low up both, and to accompany 'em, your Lady and a hundred thousand Vulgar.  Mat. 
Prodigious Villainy!  Card. 
Of Powder for this Action, fifty Cantara's— are stowed in several Places under Ground, enough to shake all Naples into Ruins, and glut Revenge with such a horrid Massacree— no Age could ever Parallel.  Mat. 
My Flesh trembles and Blood grows cold, even at the apprehension: Unnatural Viper! for a Brother's Name from henceforth I renounce, as also a Brother's Nature, by thy accurst Example, for 'tis past doubt, that with my Wife and the rest, when this most dreadful Blow had once been given (had not your gracious Clemency saved me by this Discovery) I too had shared this Ruin.  Card. 
That's not unlikely, for your Brother's aim, compacted with some Dons of his rank Faction, we find, is now for setting up himself, when Massaniello and the rest were Dead, Chief Farmer of the gabels in your stead.  Mat. 
I see it now, plain as the Sun at Noon, thou venerable Parent of my Life, for this Discovery gives me all that can be called in Life a Blessing, saving her who is much dearer than my Life, my Soul: How shall I pay my Thanks? How pour out my full Heart? And how Adore thee?  Card. 
Calm, calm yourself, my Lord, and— cease this Rapture, I'm paid in the good Action.  Mat. 
May all Stains be wiped for ever from that Honourable Scarlet, for this your Piety— Oh, this base Carraffa! this bloody Brother! But yet 'tis no more than what the Scheme of his past Life has promised, a Nature ever prompt to Cruelty, hardened in Ill, he oft would set me on to plague the People, and do things Unnatural, of which the gabels late imposed, was one,— and which being too severe, has now Undone us.  Card. 
My Lord, I see your Sense is now serene, and therefore I should be most Uncharitable to twit ye with your former rash neglect: Oh! what a sacred Tutor is Affliction? T' instruct Humanity, and give erring Nature the means to know itself.— Farewell, my Lord, excuse Paternal Love and honest Care, if it now sound too harshly in your Ear;— the Lot is cast, you must divert this Stratagem, or she you love amongst the common Crowd is lost for ever; they are now coming hither to their last Consultation; I was Invited, but made shift to excuse it; indeed I liked it not, I wish the Rebels quelled, but cannot wish that way;— but you must stand the brunt, and countenance 'em, say as they say, and work your Ends the better: 
Be Wise then, 'tis the Crisis of your Fate,  
One Hour lost now, the rest come all too late.  Exit Card.  Mat. 
How have I been mistaken in this Man; this Great, and yet this good Man? This is indeed a Churchman— studied in Morals too, and has a Conscience: If the Body of the Roman Priesthood were like him, just in Actions as in Words, Preaching no more than they would Execute, nor busied but in case of general Good, how many Converts would approach the Altars, 
Suck up their hallowed Breath, and Kneel and Pray?  
That now neglect, and heed not what they say.   Enter Gervatio. Geru. 
Oh, my Lord, is your Grace here? That's well, your Brother and the rest of the Cabal, are just upon Entering, Perone too with the Banditti, and a whole bundle of jesuits following— gad the Mischief will thrive, I'm sure, because they have a hand in't: We shall broil this King of Herrings now I'saith— I han't forgot the Rascal's Fish-Treat; a Pox on him, he has made me hate the name of Fish ever since.  Matal. 
This Rascal is my Brother's Creature too, a Bear-Cub, that he could lick into what Shape he pleased.— Well, suck your Paws, d'ye hear, and grow Fat with hopes of your Revenge, but leave me to my Thoughts. Oh, here they come; 
Now rank Dissimulation, act thy Part,  
Tongue, hush my Rage, and Looks disguise my Heart.   Enter Don Peppo, Perone, and several Banditti. Gervas'. 
The Jesuits are coming,— and one bold daring Fellow among 'em, who says, he'll begin first and fire the Train under the Upstart's House.  Don Pep. 
Hush, my Brother's here— not a word more now, bid him— do't, and tell him he shall be great as his own Wishes— Aside to him.  Mat. 
Well, are all things in a readiness?— Who fires the happy Piece at this proud Fellow?  Don Pep. 
Who but the brave Perone, the Soul of Naples; his Harquebus is Charged, and his Heart willing.  Per. 
Ay, ay, my Lord, let me alone to fire him.  Mat. 
I heard the t'other Rascal talk of firing a Train as they came in; 'sDeath, the Scoundrels quibble with me— and can ye aim well, Sir?  Per. 
I think I can, my Lord— I have killed Blackbirds without a Rest before now; but if I should fail, here are some more will second me, what say ye, my bold Lads, hah?  1 Band. 
Why Captain, give but the word of Command, your Enemy lies there, look'e, be it who ' twill.  2 Band. 
Captain— I'll not only kill who you have a mind to, d'ye mark me, but if you command me, I'll Eat him afterwards.  Per. 
There's a brave Fellow now, my Lord.  Mat. 
A prodigious brave Fellow indeed— Damnation! what Devils have I about me? But what are these? Enter Genovino and other jesuits.  Don Pep. 
Oh, these, Brother, these are Friends, woven in our Plot, Fathers of the Church, who with the rest of 'em, resolve to assist us.  Mat. 
Nay, then't must be a Powder-plot, I'm sure.— Ha, I have it now, and Death shall never alter me.— But first, for a Decoy; well, Gentlemen, this Undertaking will be Dangerous, and therefore requires Wariness and Diligence— you'll find me ready at a Minute's warning, but first, I must Disguise myself, which done, 
Believe, ye all command my Head and Heart—  
Villains, to Ruin ye, not take your part.  Aside. Exit Mataloni.  Peron. 
Methought the Duke your Brother went out Cloudy.  Don Pep. 
No, no, his Head is only busy about his Disguise— he has some reason though, if he knew all.— Aside. Your Reverence is Welcome; these Fathers, I suppose, come from the rest, all sworn Friends to our purpose.  Genou. 
All, all resolved, my Lord— they'll first assist with Prayer, and then with Powder, all sworn to quell the Church's Enemies,— And now, my brave Captain, since I've so well performed the trust you gave me, I hope you'll think a Jesuit may be Honest.  Per. 
Honest, yes, to his promise to do Mischief, I never doubted that; but come, I'm glad to see you here however.  1 jes. 
When the Laity Rebel against the Church, the Mischief that comes of it, lies on their Heads, though the Church Execute it.  Don Pep. 
There's Sophistry for ye— he calls the non payment of Church Masses, Rebellion against it— but let him talk, he's a sure Rogue of my side;— he is to fire the Marketplace. To Gervasio.  Geru. 
A gad, and I'll warrant he'll do't— he has a Face like a very Salamander itself.  2 jes. 
Oh, bloody-minded Villains! If my Discovery to the Cardinal, put no stop to this Business— I shall ne'er Sleep again:— Oh, Conscience, Conscience. Aside.  Genou. 
My Sons, be then Courageous, and go on— to do a deed will gain perpetual Glory; and to excite the Cause, pray hear this Fable; The Birds and Beasts, had once a fierce Dispute, how both their Kind's should make one Government;— this side set the Lion up as Monarch o'er 'em, but th' Feathered Kind were for Democracy; both Parties daily strong Excursions made, but neither for long time, the Conquest had— till at the last a sly old Politic Fox spoke to his Comerades thus; 
— My Friends, this jar  
must end by Stratagem, and not by War.  
I'll undertake when next the Birds appear,  
To catch a Hundred Thousand in a Snare—  
And then the rest must yield, the Case is clear.—  I think, my Sons, this needs no Application, therefore go on.  Don Pep. 
The Father speaks like an Oracle, let's Embrace, and then go on.  Omnes. 
Ay, ay, let's go on, let's go on. Embrace all.  Per. 
Away then, each to his several Charge— and when the cheerful Sun begins to gild the Marketplace to Morrow, in all his Pride I'll fell this Giant down.  Omnes. 
And we'll to the utmost Second brave Perone. Exeunt all but D. Pep.  Don Pep. 
Now soar my well plumed Hopes, and— gracious Fortune once fix thy Wheel, and on the highest Spoke set me but up; if I fear falling, Scorn me: Methinks my Heart's grown larger since my Plot.— Into what a Labyrinth of knotty Mischief have I involved these overheated Fools, who severally believe they gain that Prize, which they all work for me, to their Destruction; for at that very Instant that bold Perone hunts Massaniello's Life, so to succeed him— his own, with all the rest, fly up in Fumo: The Jesuits too are Tools; for that once done, some Troops of Spanish Dons already raised,— Confederates all in our intended Greatness, shall crush those Moles to nothing.— But hold,— my Brother and his Wife, whose Fate are both inevitable— there's the worst twinge— but what are Brother, Sister, Kindred, or Friends, to him, that bold Ambition onward guides. 
Ambition that made Angels once Rebel,  
And from Celestial Throne, sink down to Hell.  Exit.  
The End of the Third Act.    

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Pedro, Bartallo, Jacomo, Gaspar, Scipio, Ursula, and Belvidore, sitting at a Table as Feasting. 

The Fisherman's SONG.  

OF all the World's Enjoyments,  
That ever valued were,  
There's none of our Employments  
with Fishing can compare:  
Some Preach, some Write,  
Some Swear, some Fight;  
All Golden Lucre courting,  
But Fishing still bears off the Bell,  
For Profit or for Sporting.  
Then who a Jolly Fisherman,  
A Fisherman will be,  
His Throat must wet  
Just like his Net,  
To keep out Cold at Sea.   

II.  
The Country Squire loves Running  
A Pack of well-mouthed Hounds;  
Another fancies Gunning  
For Wild-Ducks in his Grounds:  
This Hunts, that Fowls;  
This Hawks, Dick Bowls,  
No greater Pleasure wishing,  
But Tom that tells what Sport excels,  
Gives all the Praise to Fishing.  
CHO. Then who, etc.   

III.  
A good Westfalia Gammon,  
Is counted dainty Fare;  
But what is't to a Salmon  
Just taken from the Ware?  
Wheat-Ears and Quails,  
Cock●, Snipes, and Rails,  
Are prized while Seasons lasting,  
But all must stoop to Crawfish Soop,  
Or I've no Skill in Tasting.  
CHO. Then who, etc.   

IV.  
Keen Hunters always take too  
Their Prey with too much pains;  
Nay, often break a Neck too;  
A Penance for no Brains:  
They Run, they Leap,  
Now High, now Deep,  
Whilst he that Fishing chooses,  
With ease may do't,  
Nay more, to boot  
May entertain the Muses.  
CHO. Then who, etc.   

V.  
And though some envious Wranglers,  
to jeer us will make bold,  
And laugh at patient Anglers,  
who stand so long i'th' Cold:  
They wait on Miss,  
We wait on this,  
And think it easy Labour,  
And if you'd know,  
Fish profits too,  
Consult our Holland Neighbour.  
CHO. Then who a Jolly, etc.    Ped. 
COme, let's have another Song, my Jolly Lads, and then another's Brimmer, which shall be once more, Confusion to all Gentry.  Gasp. 
Ay, come, away with't— but I think we have their Heads upon the Anvel pretty well now, Neighbour.  Bart. 
Ay, ay, we may lay by our Hammers and our Cleavers; now Brother,— the Sword is the Tool of Confusion now, and so let's drink about.  jacom. 
Gad, I was so fine, my Wife did not know me to day; I gave her a Buss at the Mill-door, and Odzokers, the Jade took me for a Courtier, ha, ha, ha.  Gasp. 
'Tis a sign a Courtier has been about your Hopper then, Brother, some body or other has been taking Toll in your Absence; what, the Mill must go round, Brother, the Mill must go round, ha, ha, ha.  Scip. 
Ay, ay, though the Sole be rent from the Upper-leather, as the saying is, That work must go forward— gad, would my Neighbour would drop once and give the Crow a Pudding, as the saying is, that I might take a Stitch with her, she's a rare fresh crummy Lass;— she's no Pin-buttock, not she I'faith.  Bart. 
Why well said, Neighbour,— faith I'm of thy mind— I'd give a dish of Marrowbones,— nay, all the new Rigging of my Captainship here, to beat up with her for a Volunteer.  Scip. 
Come, Colonel Pedro, let's have Madam Ursula's Health round, and give you Joy of your new Title, good Madam, and then to Madam Belvidore there— Health to your good Ladyships both.  Pedro. 
Why, well said, Lieutenant,— come with all my Heart.  Ursula. 
And I'll yours in Rhenish-wine and Sugar; what we must drink Costly now, I'm a Lady, and then we'll hear another Song; this Music with Drinking, is very pretty.  Belvid. 
'Tis so, Sister; but for my part, I love a Song that raises the Spirits and makes one merry.  Pedro. 
Why well said, my Lass of Mettle, this was a notable Ditty I'faith: Prithee jacomo do but observe my Wife in her new Rigging there; a Pox on her, she looks for all the World like thy Mare when she has a Martingal on.  Gasp. 
Come, come Boys, strike up there while the Iron's hot, let's have a Song and a Dance— come. Song and Dance.  Enter Rock hastily. Pedro. 
Oh Mr▪ Secretary, Welcome— but why so late, my man of Politics? why thou'rt six Bumpers behind at least.  Rock. 
Ay, a Pox on't, and shan't have time neither now I'm come, to drink one of 'em.— Odsheartlikins, you must leave off Junketing immediately, for the General's just coming hither to hear Causes; I brought a damned Fellow to him this Morning, a lowering, horn-faced Banditti Rogue, who pretended earnest Business, that has put him so upon the fret with some Discovery, that there's no speaking to him, he snaps and snarls at one just like a Dog in a Coach-box— Oons, he called me Pimp and Clod-pate just now, only for telling him what a Clock 'twas, though he asked me the question. Table taken off.  Bart. 
Adso, away with the Bottles then.  Pedro. 
Do so, and let's talk of some new Intelligence to find out the Duke of Mataloni,— that will put him into Humour— presently.  Rock. 
Here he comes, and that Devil Banditti with him still; I wonder who he is— 'tis a plaguy poor Rascal— and I'm sure, had not a Penny about him, because he gave me no Fee— for which I would have kept him from the General— but 'twas such a surly Dog, and those damnable Whiskers struck such an Awe into me— that Egad he made me do what he would, in spite of my Teeth.  Enter Massaniello, and Mataloni, disguised like a Banditti. Massan. 
Thou hast well deserved thy Life; and thy Discovery is of such weight, as makes me still thy Debtor.  Matal. 
Have you given Order to Secure Carraffa?  Massan. 
'Tis done, and Spies are likewise on Perone, to watch his Motions, who at this Instant, I hear, waits for Admittance.  Matal. 
'Tis well; and all the Avenues that reach the Powder, are they taken care of?  Massan. 
All, all, with strictest Diligence.— My better Genius, how shall I pay my Gratitude— tell me thy Circumstances, that I may reward thee— for saving me, and two Thirds of the People: Whence, and what art thou?  Matal. 
One of Fortune's Bubbles, blown up and down a while about the World, and when I break, am Nothing: My Race and Birthright, if you can believe me, perhaps are yet too good for what I seem, but that may be my Pride, so heed it not: If you'd have more know me then by my outside, which in the Figure I at present bear, expresses me— a Rogue.  Rock. 
Pithy and short; it does so indeed.  Massan. 
This Male contented slander on thyself,— bears yet a relish of some hidden Honesty; thou shalt be mine, and such a Trust I'll give thee, and by its Profit shall reward this Service.  Matal. 
Pray, Sir, not too much of your Trust, I may deceive ye; for what I have done, perhaps I had my Reasons, but if you burden me with Place and Office— I shall do like most of the rest in such Cases; I shall serve myself in the first place, I tell ye that before hand.  Massan. 
Oh, this Bluntness better recommends thee to me, it shows thou art no Courtier, no favourer of accursed Mataloni, nor the damned Gabellers, therefore observe me, some of the Traitors are by this time Seized, and rash Perone attends his certain Ruin.— Withdraw a while, till I dispatch some Business, which done, we'll discourse farther; in the mean time, I tell thee, I am pleased with thee.  Matal. 
And I, if my Design succeed, most happy. Exit Mataloni.  Massan. 
Brother, I ordered you to burn the Plunder, but you will have your way, I see.— What my Bull's-head Captain and the Cobbler, Embroidered too— and the Women foisting here too, pshaw, pull off your Trappings, and send those things away,— we have no Smock business now.  Pedro. 
Smock-business,— gad if I had said as much, the Tanner's Wife there would have broke my Head I'm sure;— what a Devil ails him.  Bart. 
Why, Whiskers that went out there, has bewitched him, I believe.  Pedro. 
D'ye here Spouse, I see he's in a damned ill Humour, therefore prithee be gone.  Ursula. 
Marry gap, what's he too good to speak to us Civilly.  Mass. 
How now, What Noise is that?  Rock. 
The People are mad, I think, they throng the Marketplace so, that they ride upon one another's Backs; the Jesuits Horse one another like wild Stallions;— Perone's Exalted too, and to my thinking, would fain get foremost.  Mass. 
Brother, and the rest of ye, keep here this Post, and on your Life, observe my Motions.— Are any yet let in, Sits down at a Table.  Rock. 
Yes, three or four Delinquents, who were Tried this Morning by the Court your Lordship set up for such Causes, and who now are sent to you to receive Judgement; They are a Baker and a Fisherman: But in the Rear of these,— appear two Ghosts or starv'd Skelitons, whom the Prince of Bissignano sends hither to plead their Cause themselves to you, strange fleshless Creatures, I would not have you see 'em Faith; their Bones rattle as they walk like a Bag of Chess-men, and these accuse a Lawver,— a rich Lawyer, a Friend of mine, my Lord, of Roguery— poor Idiots, they are like to get much b●'t.  Massan. 
We'll admit 'em all, but let Perone keep at distance till they're dispatched.  Rock. 
Valasco,— d'ye here. Whispers Valasco.  Valasc. 
It shall be done— Exit Valasco.  Enter Baker, Fish-monger, and two Women Ragged and Disfigured, with shagged Hair about their Ears, and looking pale and lean, as if just Starved; then enter the Lawyer, who Whispers Rock. Rock sits down and looks over Papers. Massan. 
Read the Bills of Accusation against these Delinquents severally, then let me know each Man particularly.— First, What's he?  Rock. 
So please ye, a Baker— Tried and Convicted in your Lordship's Court of Justice— For that he not having the fear of any thing before his Eyes, and a world of such formal Stuff, my Lord, sold Bread to the Poor sixteen Ounces in six and Thirty too Light— and that too most of it Doughty baked— to lie heavy on his Customers Stomachs, that they might not find out his Cheat.  Massan▪ 
Hum— for Bread Dough-baked, and too light sixteen Ounces, well, let his Oven be heated presently, and in it bake that Baker; bake him, d'ye hear, to a Crust— then dole him round in Parcels of sixteen Ounces weight to all the Poor that are Injured.  Baker. 
Oh, that ever I was Born— Mercy, my Lord, Mercy.  Massan. 
Away, Bake him, I say— on your Lives see it done. Proceed, who's the next? Exeunt some with the Baker.  Rock. 
A Fisherman, who brags he is Related to your Lordship, his Crime is, That being sent by a poor Labourer, who works by the Week abroad, to his Wife, lying in with Twins, with some Fish proper for her condition, she pulling out her Purse to pay him, he robbed her of it, for want of which, she and her too Infants are since Starved.  Massan. 
Pshaw, is that all,— why if they are Dead, the Parish is eased of an Encumbrance; Odds me, and now I look on him better, this honest Man is a Relation of mine indeed, for if I han't forgot—  Fish. 
Oh lack a day, Master Thomas Annello— why sure you can't forget your Cousin Bobber the Smelt-man— why I am your Sister's Son, and please ye; and you may remember, how Merry we were last Lammas at the Herring catching— well god's bobs, Cousin, I'm huge glad of your good Fortune.  Massan. 
Thank'e, thank'e— good Cousin; a Chair there for my Kinsman.  Fish. 
Hem, Hem— A Chair brought and he sits down.  Massan. 
Well, Cousin, and prithee what is this foolish Business about this Purse— what I warrant thou took'st it Joakingly, didst not— thou hadst occasion for a little Money— for some Frolic or so, I warrant.  Fish. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.— Why in Troth Cousin, I had so, you have nicked it; Gad's bobs, you know I was always given to Frolicks and to play Arch-tricks,— and I think this was pretty enough:— You shall hear how 'twas.— The Woman you must know, Cousin, was newly brought to Bed, and lay grunting for Fish, and the Fool her Husband, had no more wit than to send me to her, when she might as well have come to Market herself, if all be true as I have heard of'em— well— in came I— out came her Purse— and whip, says jethro, I had it in a Moment, so scoured off— and over a Brimmer Laughed heartily afterwards, with my Brother Topers, a● the dissembling Carrion— and faith; as you say, Cousin, I think there was good Service done in't, for the Dam and her Cubs, would have certainly encumbered the Parish— and to deal plainly,— I hear I have prevented that, for they're all Dead— ha, ha, ha, she'll want no more Fish in haste, nor her Brats squall no more for the Sucking-bottle, ha, ha, ha.  Mass. 
So— and for this notable good Service, this same pretty Joak, Cousin, these foolish Lawyers have Convicted the●.  Fish. 
Senseless Law-Rogues, they have in troth, Cousin— but I knew I had a sure Card of you; nay, the Pimps thought to fright me with Rawhead and Bloody-bones too, and told me, that my Blood drop for drop, should be shed for theirs, and that the liquour in my Veins, who am one of the Family of the famous Annelloes of Amalfi should run through the Streets, like the Kennels in a Rainy day:— What says the brave top of our House, shall it, shall it, hah, Cousin.  Massan. 
No not a drop Cousin— there's my Hand on't— let the bold Spirits of my noble Kindred, Kill, Starve, or Drown, or Poison whom they please, must knavish Law or foolish Justice control 'em in this Juncture too, when they hope to be Preferred? No, 'tis enough that they are ●in to me— and why am I in Power, but to Exalt 'em?  Fish. 
Right, my dear Cousin, right— Gads bobs, I could kiss thy Foot, hem! hem! Oons, I'll be revenged of those Law-Rogues that Tried me, as soon as ever I'm Preferred. Aside. Well, well, and dear Cousin, you were talking of Exalting— when, when must I be Exalted— hum— I am nearest Related of any— I am your Sister's Son, you know.  Massan. 
Why Cousin, within this Hour.  Fish. 
Shall I faith, Gad's bobs— I will kiss thy Foot now Falls down and kisses his shoe. But where, where, dear top of the renowned Annelli of Amalfi— where?  Mass. 
Why, upon a Signpost.  Fish. 
A Signpost— ha, ha, ha,— well, well, Cousin,— I know you're a rare Joaker; a Signpost, very pretty faith, ha, ha, ha. They Seize him.  Massan. 
Go some of ye, and Exalt my Cousin, that is, Hang him instantly upon a Signpost.  Fish 
Ah Cousin, dear Cousin, you carry the Jest too far now, you do I'saith.  Massan. 
Hang him in Chains— but let no Blood be spilled upon your Lives, he is my kinsman, and I've given my Word; and so adieu good Cousin— d'ye hear, besure you do it decently, and let him be with Ceremony Exalted.— Come, the next, the next.  Fish. 
Exalted, O Lord! why are ye in Earnest then? Why Cousin Thomas, sure you Joak— dear Cousin Thomas— sure you Joak. They drag him out.  Massan. 
Away, I say.—  Lawyer. 
Hum, this is somewhat odd, my Friend.  Valasc. 
Oh— a poor Rogue— I knew he'd be Hanged, for all the General's Joaking.  Lawyer. 
Well, my good Friend— take care d'ye hear, and there's your Fee— I have given the Secretary a hundred Ducats already.  Valasc. 
Why look'e, Sir,— you have given me two Ducats here, if you don't come off d'ye see, as cleverly as a husk from a roasted Chestnut, why then my two Ears are at your Service:— I heard the Secretary say as much just now— and he, he can do any thing; you shall see him wind the General about his Hand like a skein of Silk. The two Women give Massaniello a Paper.  Massan. 
What monstrous things are here, that freeze my Blood with Horror of the Crimes, and make me mad with Wonder!— bless me, what Figures too, I'll read again— the Prince of Bissignano's Letter.  
Your Excellency is to know, your Suitors are a Widow and her Daughter; the Widow's Husband, some seventeen Years since, Dying, left his Brother a Lawyer, his Executor, to pay her sixteen hundred Ducats for her Dowry, and as much for her Daughter's Portion, instead of which, to defraud both, he hath villainously and Unnaturally Immured 'em between four Walls in a Cave, giving out▪ They were Dead, and ever since fed 'em there with Bread, roots and Water; their Miseries will appear visible before ye, and your justice on the Offender be Nobly Remarkable,—  
Bissignano.  
Incomparable Villainy, I'm amazed at it; come forward Wretches, and Express yourselves— Which is the Widow of you, and which the Daughter?  Pedro. 
If thou wilt Marry now Captain, here's a rare Bargain for thee— here's one won't be proud of her Bills and Bonds— this Widow will go off cheap enough— and the Maiden Daughter too— I believe, would hardly stand priming and mincing upon such an occasion, she has a Skin there would make a rare pair of Fox-hunting Boots.  Bart. 
Are they Birds or Beasts, I wonder— and of what World are they? For ours, in all appearance, they're utter Strangers to— I warrant that Scoundrel the Lawyer, is in a smoky Sweat now— Odds bobs, this Cause of his looks but scurvily.  Widow. 
If Misery extreme can deserve Pity— or injured Innocence can hope Redress, give ear to my sad Story, and do Justice, for all that Paper mentions, is most true, full Seventeen Years forced by that barbarous Brother, we have told the Hours in that loathsome Prison, fed with the dross of Earth, unwholesome Roots, Bread candied o'er with Mould and stinking Water, all that could make Calamity grow dreadful, and yet not Kill us, we have suffered daily; The damp cold Earth our Beds, hard Stones our Pillows, and nightly visited with roapy Snails, that crawled upon our Faces, big swell Spiders, the scream of Weasels, Rats, and Croaking Toads in Consort joined, was still our hateful horrid Music, whilst dismal Darkness added to the Horror.  Lawyer. 
My Lord, I beseech your good Lordship, let her prate no longer she was Mad my Lord— she was Mad— And 'tis true, I kept her a little Hardly— but 'twas only to bring her to her Wits again— Hark'e, Friend, I would the cretary would put in a word now. To Gervatio. Aside.  Geru. 
O no matter, no matter, he'll bring ye cleverly off at last, whether he does or no, Man▪  Massan. 
Go on there— What say you?  Daughter. 
The Summer's choking heat, and Winter's cold, both which with their alternate Misery torturing our Bodies, have quite changed our Natures, our Skins like barks of Trees, our Hair like Furies, with eagle's Talons on instead of Nails, and Savage all, but in doleful Sound, breathing from our numbed, starved and tormented Bodies— our Voices, that cry out aloud for Justice, for Justice, that our wretched Trunks may feel one Hour's Pleasure, though we die the next.  Massan. 
You shall have Justice, sound substantial Justice, as the Fact merits. or your Revenge could ask; Go take that Lawyer there, that rank rich rascal, that common Murderer of Common-Pleas, that Capias, that foul blotted Writ of Error— take him, d'ye hear, and strip him first Naked, then Immure him between those very Walls where these have lain, let his Food be Wax and Parchment, and his Drink, the liquour that has Damned his Soul, his Ink; 
And whilst the Widow his Estate enjoys,  
Let him Rave, Groan, and Languish till he dies.   Law. 
Mercy on me, why Friend, Friend, the Secretary don't speak a word for me.  Valasc. 
Hum— why faith your Business does not come off so cleverly as I thought it would, and I can't part with my Ears very well neither; but d'ye hear, Sir, let 'em Starve ye if they dare, let 'em take your Estate, I warrant he'll maul 'em when you're Dead cleverly, never fear, Man.  Law. 
When I'm Dead, Oh miserable Comfort! have I Cheated so many to be a prey to Cheats myself at last; Oh, Lawyer, Lawyer, what will become of thy Soul?  Enter Bissignano, Perone, Banditti. Ped. 
Brother, the Prince attends to speak with ye. Exit with Law. and Women.  Massan. 
Is Execution done then? To Bissignano.  Bissig. 
I saw it all performed,— and with Alacrity; Carraffa and his Faction all are Dead, the Jesuits also, only Genovino, who, as it seems, intending to discover 'em, has saved himself, but all the rest have Suffered; the eager People gave a loose to Cruelty, their Heads and Hands cut off, and stuck upon Posts, adorn the Marketplace, and all their Bodies mangled and torn to pieces by the Rabble.  Massan. 
'Tis well;— your Ear, my Lord Whispers 'Tis most certain so, therefore stand still and mark th' Event.  Bissig. 
I am Amazed.—  Massan. 
Fellows in Arms, especially Perone, the chief of my bold Undertakers: Hear me; some Plots are late found out against my Life, the Authors of it Seized and Executed, and since for the People's good, I think my Safety— may be material, let all stand at distance but those I appoint, till I Explain myself; What says the brave Banditti's Captain there? Is it not reasonable?  Per. 
Your singling me out, Sir, to ask that Question, is somewhat odd methinks— but let us stand as you please— I think I all along have kept my Distance as well as any, I grudge ●e no Respect that I know of  Massan. 
Surly, but yet my Friend, you know, he's Honest, honest as his damned Brethren in a Robbery— you'll find it so, let Honesty be tried; Seize him and Search him instantly, and those Banditti's there, the Villains come to Murder me. They seize Perone.  Per. 
Ah, surprised just in the Minute; Oh damned ill Fortune!  1 Band. 
Fate, guide my Hand, have at thee. Shoots a Pistol, but misses him.  2 Band. 
And mine—  Massan. 
Ha— have they missed me; then thanks to Providence, and thou, dear Figure of my blessed Angel, that still defends my Life against all Danger, go drag 'em to their Deaths; tear 'em to pieces, and let their Heads be fixed among the rest.  Per. 
I was a Fool, or thine had grinned there first. Death I deserve for that, and so Confusion seize ye Perone and Banditti are carried off.  Ped. 
The Rascals hid their Arms under Cloaks, and by that trick deceiv'd us.  Massan. 
'Tis well remembered; be it Ordered instantly, on pain of Death, no Man to wear a Cloak or upper Garment, of what degree soever, they shall have no more coverings for their Knavery; From High, to Low, Let all Men walk in Querpo. Go see my Commands obeyed, and strictly, as their Lives will answer it.  Rock. 
Ay gad, and with all my Heart— for I know a plaguy rich Cardinal that wears a huge long red Coat, and if he does not Bribe me well, I'll strip him to his Shirt in the first place; ' sdheart, this new Order will bring in a Tun of Money,— and I'll about it instantly— Gervatio— come Exeunt Rock and Gervatio.  Bissig. 
This happy chance, which I Congratulate, shows the Divine Powers hold ye in regard; Respect them, Sir, and cease your rigid Violence, Burning and Plunder; the Viceroy greets ye fair too, and now agrees to grant, for th' People's good, Great Charles th' Emperor's Charter; myself last night was at a Consultation with him, and the good Cardinal Fillomarino— who has besides the Grant, a Present for ye.  Massan. 
I'll Visit him this Moment; he has a Character 'tis said, beyond the Title even of Goodness— Honest and Conscientious, yet a Cardinal; 'tis wondrous, and I scarce believe it true.  Bissig. 
Truth, may good Angels guide ye to pursue. Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Cardinal Solus, Reading. Card 
Immortal Seneca, whose sacred Morals inflame the Sense, and ease the troubled Minds of those that can discern and taste thy Learning, how valued were't thou in these sad Times, to Naples, if every one were skilled in those rich Jewels, which in their value, are Inestimable; but as the People's Plague is Ignorance, so the d●re want of thy Philosophy, makes still more sharp to them, the darts of Fortune— What Noise is that within? Good Heaven defend me!— the State's Distress, makes every little blast appear a Whirlwind— It comes nearer still, this must be of some Moment.  Enter Rock and Valasco. Rock. 
Bring up the Guards to th' door, ye saucy Slaves, how dare ye contradict the General's Order?— Is it your Pleasure, my Lord Scarlet-Cap, to affront the Supreme power— hoh▪—  Card. 
What mean ye, Sir?  Rock. 
What mean I, Sir, you shall know presently, Sir,— Valasco— strip him— if you can read without your Spectacles, there's my Warrant for it. gives a Paper.  Card. 
Well, Sir, I see your Power and my Patience, as in other things, must also appear in this Valasco takes off his upper Robes But pray how far does your Commission tend? Not to my Skin,— I hope.  Rock. 
No, no, my Lord— to your Shirt only— I'll proceed no further, I will not show the Church's Nakedness— though some of you give her but Tinsel Clothing.— To your Shirt, to your Shirt— no further.  Card. 
My Shirt— alas, Sir, Age has so crazed my Body— and long Infirmity so weakened me, should you proceed so in this cold bleak Season, 'twould Kill me;— have you quite forgot Humanity?  Rock. 
Oh, my Lord, I know you can Talk— I know you have a large capacious Wit, my Lord, and a large Purse too; my Lord, if you would save your shrivelled Carcase, then let that speak for ye, that's the Philosophy confutes me always, the rest is paltry, paltry.  Card. 
My Purse is the Rhetoric must save me! no, to bribe Barbarity, is to indulge the sin— I will not give a Penny.  Rock. 
Come, come, Uncase, uncase then, the fine Wether will make you chatter your Repentance shortly, I make no doubt on't. Enter Massaniello.  Valasco goes to strip him further. Massan. 
Ha, hands off there— What are ye doing, Villains?  Rock. 
Oons, the General— we were only zealous in executing your Order, and please ye— and because the old Bishop was obstinate, we thought to fright him a little, that was all.  Massan. 
Avaunt, ye Scoundrels, whose Souls have more of Dirt than th' basest Dung hills; my Orders were to wear no upper Garments, but you will stretch, you will; put on his Robe again, Rogues, and then be gone. they dress him again.  Rock. 
He is particular; be gone— ah, you're a rare Fellow to call a Great Officer Scoundrel, but come— Valasco, a pox on him, we must go. Exeunt.  Mass▪ 
He bears an awful Aspect— Gravity with Wisdom joined, appear in every Feature, and seem to force a Reverence— well, what then, Looks do deceive us often.  Card. 
Is this the Prodigy, the Instrument of Heaven, and Scourge of Naples? He has a daring Front, quick Eye, and a Vivacuy uncommon in such Meekness, Fatal, and through th' whole Physiognomy is something strangely Terrible.  Mass. 
Th' Outside's Awful,— th' Inside now I'll try,  
And want of Learning— Reason shall supply.  
Well, Reverend Sir, you have surveyed my Figure now sufficiently, would you know aught besides.  Card. 
If the strange Frenzy the Age is swaved with, would permit your Temper to Reason calmly— I confess I would, Sir.  Mass. 
Proceed then, I'm Calm, let us sit down. They sit. And to the purpose now,— what would you know?  Card. 
What you think of yourself?  Mass. 
Why of myself I think— but yet may Err— as you do of Religion— Good I intent I'm sure— though in my Practice perhaps are Mistakes.  Card. 
But we have no Perhaps, Religion is a firm and solid Basis, a sure Foundation, and the Matter good too we put in Practice.  Mass. 
So you Preach indeed, but should we come to seek a Heavenly dwelling amongst your Schisms and Artful Heresies, your Pro and Con, your intricate Church Sophistry, instead of Pious plain Soulsaving Doctrine, which with sound Truths should give us safe Retreat, not Babel in all its height of monstrous Jarring, e'er showed such strange Confusions.  Card. 
The Church cannot Err;—  
Some of her Mortal Sons through frailty may.  Mass. 
And those cause all their Flock to go Astray. Your Learning only serves to guild your Fallacies; your Words and Deeds are never of a Piece; 
You prate of Heaven, though 'tis Earth you love,  
Your Hearts are here, though Eyes are fixed Above.  Seven deadly sins blot out the Cardinal Virtues; rank Avarice, abhorred Hypocrisy, sharp Tongued Detraction, and inveterate Envy, hot Lechery, and Charity quite frozen; with your dear darling sin, King-killing, Murder, nest in the Bosom of your Politic Conclave.  Card. 
I am Amazed, a Fisherman to talk thus, 'tis most Miraculous. Aside.  Mass. 
Crimes of all Natures,  
That ever did or shall Infest the Globe,  
Lie close and brood under your Scarlet Robe.  Card. 
Nay, now your Passion is predominant, you break your Promise.  Mass. 
Only a little Zealous for my Cause— I give you the same liberty, speak boldly.  Card. 
So I shall, and Honestly, and therefore must take leave to ask a Question.  Mass. 
Do, I will Answer.  Card. 
Are not you a Rebel?  Mass. 
I know not by my Soul— 'tis a State Title which yet I want a Definition of, but I will ask the People— their Logic shall discuss it, and then I'll tell ye:— In the mean time, to answer with a Question, resolve me Cardinal, are not you a Hypocrite?  Card. 
My Conscience prompts me to reply to that without delay, or more demurring,— No.  Mass. 
Well should I grant you once it may be so,  
I'm sure your Tribe can't such another show.  Card. 
A Hypocrite,— Oh let these bubbling drops that outwards force their way from their old Fountains, through very shame, that my unhappy Age should be affronted with so vile a Question, declare my detestation of that Crime— you do not know me, Sir.  Mass. 
Perhaps nor myself neither. Now I have Answered ye; those Tears have shocked me, I relent o'th' sudden. Aside.  Card. 
Then I will teach ye, Sir, to know yourself, for should I fail to speak for fear of Death, or stand in awe of your unwieldy Power; or as you have disgraced my Sacred Function, by stripping off my Robe, though my Life were next, yet should I Sue or Flatter ye, to save it— poorly beg Pity, than I were a Hypocrite, than you might think me a corrupt timeserver, than you might brand me; no, no, rash young Man, a Good Man never fears to die, his Sands are still before his Eyes, he sees 'em run,— and all his pious Deeds proportioned to 'em— this makes me dauntless; this controls your power,— and spite of Tortures, strengthens me to tell ye you're a Rebel.  Mass. 
Very good— go on.  Card. 
A most notorious Rebel; a vile Name that bears the greatest and most odious Infamy, breaker of Laws, contemner of Religion, Author of Murders and unnatural Riot, Fire, Plunder, and most horrid Devastation. Are not you this?  Mass. 
In part, yet not a Rebel— I love the King, and for him and my Country, have undertaken this dangerous Enterprise; the People were oppressed with loading gabels, and in th' Oppression, the King's Honour tainted, which I resolve to abolish, though I die for't— and so I do this, so by my Labour I give ease to Naples, so the grieved People are by me Enfranchised, may I be torn in pieces by the Rabble, my Head be mounted on a Pole, my Body dragged through the gory Streets, whilst each vein spouts Blood out like a Conduit, I am happy, proud of my Fortune, shall contentedly die, and gladly yield my Soul without a Sigh.  Card. 
Miraculous still— the more I hear him speak, the more I wonder.  Mass. 
If my design to quell some of the Court— whose Avarice cramped us all, be called Rebellion— or justly punishing of those, be Murder.— To palliate that, I've only this to say, it is the Time's Distress that causes it; uncommon Crimes have forced down Heaven's Vengeance,— and suppose me, though unworthy, chose the means to work its Ends by.  Card. 
You must not suppose it,— 'tis Impious and the height of Arrogance; 'tis making Judgement of Eternal Wisdom, and Heaven the Author of the Ills you do— you rather ought to think, nay and believe Vengeance will fall on you if you repent not.  Mass. 
My Heart melts strangely, my hard stubborn Heart; Oh, what a power has Piety—  Card. 
What sacred Vision or Inspiring Prophet gave you commission to be Tyrant here?— suppose the People Wronged, are you Omnipotence to scourage the wronger's, and anticipate Heaven's Justice, through proud Will and rash Presumption— come, come, Repent, cast down your Usurped Power— and reverence Heaven, that thus far suffered ye,— and turned to Benefits foul Disobedience, but cease from future Ill  Mass. 
This is a good Man, Deceit can never have such fair Appearance; his words have turned my Eyes into my Soul, and his sound Reason changed my very Nature:— Thou Reverend best Instructor of my Soul, thou hast convinced me, and I now am Penitent: and if my Actions since for th' general Good, may be forgiven by Heaven and the Viceroy, this to perform, by all that's Sacred, Carmine's blessed Virgin, and your holy self— soon as the Articles of Charles the Emperor are Ratified to th' People— to renounce all my Command and Power, and return to my poor Occupation, Fishery; 
There with my peaceful Net my days pass o'er,  
And never dream of proud Ambition more.—   Card. 
Now thy good Genius prompts,— 'twas spoke Divinely; perform this Vow, and yet be blessed for ever;— and from the Viceroy, I have here Commission to say, those Articles shall all be Ratified, and gabels quite Abolished— besides a Present from him to yourself.  Mass. 
Oh, let me kiss the Feet of my Director,— and beg his Pardon for th' Irreverend Sin late acted, in the rudeness to Disrobe him— I am a Dog, a sordid gross Plebeian, untutored in Humanity, a vile clod of Earth, and you should Spurn Falls at's Feet. me hence, left I defile ye— but Pardon, I beseech ye, lest Distraction make me commit an Outrage on myself.  Card. 
'Tis all forgiven, and forgot; thus from my Heart I give ye Absolution: And now pray rise, and hear what I'm in Charge of from the Viceroy, who as a forerunner to his future Favour, presents ye with a Suit of rich Apparel— and will himself meet ye at your appointment, there to confirm the Articles.  Mass. 
I'll meet him with all Joy, but for his rich Present, alas, my gracious Father, I'm unworthy— for a poor Fisherman these I have on, are rich enough in Conscience.  Card. 
Your Person indeed, that goes each day Clothed with Renown, Apparel can ne'er Embellish more; but yet 'tis proper now, not as a Fisherman, but Captain-General of the Neapolitans; th' Honour of which, obliges ye to wear a Garb befitting; besides your condescension to the Viceroy.  Mass. 
I am convinced, and now will act a Courtier, since you will have it so.  Card. 
Hark, the Cathedral Bell Rings, I must attend, will you be there?  Mass. 
I'll wait upon your Eminence, and after meet the People, who desire some Musical Diversion, for joy of my late 'scape: I'll first be Fine, and then receive their Kindness.— Thus till the Charter is confirmed, I'll Revel in fluttering Gaiety and frolic Mirth: 
Which done, the gaudy Trash away I'll spurn,  
And to the Canvas I now wear, return.   
The End of the fourth Act.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Mataloni Solus. Mat. 
OH, mighty Love— how is thy wondrous Power shown in the dangerous round of my hard Fortunes, and what a narrow Isthmus stands between my future Comfort, and my present Ruin, led on by thee, though almost in Despair— to free my Soul's best Joy, my Belleraiza; I've ' betwixt the Paws of a fierce Monster ventur'd, whose rancorous Heart thirsts for my Life; whose Hatred, would make a Feast of Cruelty upon me, and gorge my Blood with Woolvish Appetite— yet for my Love, my Wife, I venture all— and only now want glorious Opportunity to bring it to Perfection— my late Discovery has fixed me in the Heart of this bold Fellow— this bold, nay, I may say, this wondrous Creature; for is it not a Prodigy in Nature, that a base Boy, poor, ragged, and barefooted— nay, even the lowest of the wretched Vulgar, should in an Instant, as by Inspiration, be qualified to hold Dispute with Cardinals, negotiate State Affairs of grand Importance; draw out a powerful Army to Rebel, Command 'em, and with a Nod, a Beck, an uncontrolled Motion, subject all Naples; Naples, the Queen of Cities, Mother of Hero's— Metropolis and Rendezvouz of Princes, and in her full six hundred Thousand Souls, as Absolute as any natural Monarch— 'tis above Wonder— Let me wait Heaven's Pleasure then, for now it is not in my power to crush him, but with the Ruin of myself, and Love; here is his Ring, which gives me powerful Trust, and Privilege to pass the Guards at any time— This may be of great use to my Design; besides, he treats me now as his best Friend— and Spy upon his Enemies— I'll feed him with such hopes— hark, they are coming from Mass— in Pomp, I hear, and a Solemnity is made to entertain him— well, let him mount, 
Ambitious Fool, dashed by the turn of Times,  
The harder falls, the higher that he climbs.   Enter Trumpets, Kettledrums, and Hautboys, a Martial Symphony, Cardinal, and Massaniello in a Fishing Habit; then Don Tiberio leading Blowzabella stuck with jewels; then Pedro leading Ursula, than Bartallo, Rock, Valasco, Jacomo, Gaspar, Scipio; they stop, and Massaniello speaks. Mass. 
Let twenty Troops be drawn up round my House; then let two Thousand Halberds line the Gate-way, and on their Lives, no Noise— nor none press further. If it were proper your Eminence could taste a little of our Entertainment, I should be happy, but since Religious Temperance obliges otherwise, I cease my Suit— Is there ought else, my Lord, you would Command?  Card. 
Only your Licence for an Hour, to Visit Sir, the Duchess Mataloni.  Massaniello starts. Mass. 
My Lord, you shall have Licence. How her very Name, spite of my Resolves, does kindle my late Flame. Come hither— Rock— what said the Duchess to my Suit? Aside to him.  Rock. 
Why, Sir, at first, she was at her Hums and Haws a little, but I managed her so, that her Stomach began to come down apace.  Mass. 
Oh, she is sweeter than Arabian Odours.  Rock. 
Ay, Sir, and whiter than the new fallen Snow.  Mass. 
She is so, but prithee praise her not, it Tortures me.  Rock. 
Not Praise her, why, Sir, is there any harm in't, or if you should Enjoy— her, is that such a Miracle?  Mass. 
Enjoy her, 'sDeath, that word has shot me through— no more, I charge ye— my late made Vow of Honesty and Virtue, and the awful Look there of that Holy Man— they shall, they must restrain me, but then Beauty and such a sweet Revenge on Mataloni— Oh, how my Veins swell!  Rock. 
Pshaw, pshaw, Sir, I hope you ant scrupulous— why, I'll make her as supple as a Glove for ye, there shall be no need of Courting.  Mass. 
Well, I'll think further on't, in the mean time, you must go wait on my Lord Cardinal to her.  Rock. 
The Cardinal— what a Devil, must I Pimp for him too— pray my Lord, consider my Place, good my Lord.  Mass. 
Oh, his is only a Visit, and no more.  Rock. 
A Visit— gad I don't like him— he's Grey, but not very Good, I believe.  Mass. 
My new Bandito Friend there, shall go with ye too— Grasso, come hither, thou seest the Love I bear thee, and the Trust I have imposed; take then a Secret from me; go with the Cardinal, to Visit the young Duchess; the Ring I gave thee, gets admittance to her— then plant thyself cunningly to hear their Talk— and afterwards let me be a partaker— hah, wilt thou be diligent?  Mat. 
Nay, if ye doubt me, y' had best employ another.  Mass. 
Enough— I do not, my good Lord Cardinal, these will direct ye to the duchess's Lodging.  Card. 
Sir, you Oblige me— Exeunt Cardinal, Mataloni and Rock.  Music sounds, and a Banquet set out here Blowz. 
Well, my Lord, I am mightily pleased— you like my Dress so well, and I think, though I ha'n't been bred at Court, and perhaps may want a little of their Air, as they call it— yet these Jewels don't disfigure me. Odsfish, this upon my Breast here, cost a thousand Ducats, and this upon my Rump here, as much more. Turns round and shows her jewels.  Don Tib. 
Oh, Madam, and adorning so graceful a Person too, they receive an extraordinary Advantage— I wonder those she Plundered of 'em, should tell her the Price. Aside.  Blowz. 
Humh— Adorning my Person— Well, my Lord, you have the prettiest words pop out now and then to oblige me— Odsfish, you have, that I could hear ye all day methinks: But come, let's hear the Music, and Eat and Drink, and be Merry.  Pedro. 
What, my Brother is not in the Dumps still, I hope.  Ursul. 
No, no, but State Affairs lie a little heavy you must think— Why truly I find myself a little Graver since I was a Lady, than I was before.  Blowz. 
Come, my Lord General— Odsfish, what are ye posing on the Music, and Banquet stays for us— you act a Courtier rarely indeed; why, you are as dull as if you were a Gudgeon-catching; come away, and seat yourself for shame— what, we must do great things now.  They Seat themselves, and then follows a comical Entertainment of Singing and Dancing; which ended, Enter Genovino and Soldiers, with the Heads of Carraffa and Perone on Poles, another bearing Mataloni 's Habit. 

A Dialogue between two Fishwives.  1 st. Fish. 
HOw comes it now good Mrs. Sprat,  
You are so Impudent of late?  
● ' endeavour to forestall my Wares,  
And thrust your Nose in my Affairs,  
What is't you would be at?  2 d. Fish. 
What means the Blowz? my actions show,  
I scorn both your Affairs and you;  
I hope my Trade is not so small,  
To help it, I should yours forestall,  
Sure 'tis not come to that?  1 st. Fish. 
Come, come, I know you carry't high,  
But yesterday the Neighbours swore  
That you did all the Herrings buy,  
That I had bargained for before.  2 d. F. 
They lie, I am the veriest jade  
That e'er at door a By-blow laid,  
If I did any Herrings buy,  
I'd have ye know,  
Ye filthy Sow,  
I've other Fish to fry.  1 st. F. 
Come, come, you did, you did, ye Quean,  
And in the Alehouse 'cross the Green,  
To Breakfast drilled my Husband by.  Both Sing together. 2 d. 
I'd have ye know.  1st. 
Ye did, ye Quean.  2 d. 
Ye filthy Sow.  1st. 
Ye did, ye Quean:  2 d. 
And drilled my Husband by.  1st. 
I've other Fish to fry.  2 d. F. 
Ye dirty Mawks— would I but go  
To graft my spouse a Horn or so,  
I've Customers of Lords or Knights,  
Would be my Friends both days and nights,  
And take it for a favour too.  1 st. Fish. 
Thou long hast bragged of this I own,  
When only Scoundrels of the Town,  
Were still employed to till your Ground.  2 d. F. 
Of which your Husband's one.  1 st. F. 
He was, but he soon found his dangerous case,  
He knows thou art not Sound.  2 d. F. 
Not sound— you Trollop— by this light,  
To vex thee, now I'll tell the truth in spite;  
He does love me, thy Husband's mine,  
Our Hands, our Lips, our— we join;  
And when we sit and Sing, and Play,  
Has wished thee Hanged a hundred times a day  1 st. F. 
I'll slit that Nose.  2 d F. 
He says, that Mouth  
Is like the Pole, 'twill reach from North to South  
And if your there so wide  
You know full well,  
The Tales men tell,  
What they suspect beside.  1 st. Fish. 
Ye Carrion.  2 d. Fish. 
Ye Malkin.  1 st. Fish. 
Ye Slattern.  2 d. Fish. 
Ye Puss.  Both together. 
I'll teach you to slander me thus, thus & thus.  
I'll teach you to Cuckold me thus, thus & thus.   Genou. 
THis 'tis to bear a Brain— so well I've Plotted, I am unsuspected of the late Conspiracy— and now have formed another Protean Plot, to seat myself securely.  Mass. 
What mean those Objects?  Genou. 
The Heads of your two Mortal Enemies— Carraffa and Perone, the People bring to add to your Diversion; and Mataloni had not Hell aided him, had never escaped; I was so near him, that I reached his Skin here, but the Snake crawled away.  Mass. 
Damn the Jilt Fortune,— had I hooked him too, my Heart had been at Ease; Oh, with what pleasure could I employ this sword to rip him open, these Teeth to bite his Heart, these busy Fingers, to tear the Beard from off his hated Face, as now from this Cursed Traitor, damned Carraffa.  Pulls off the Beard from Carraffa 's Head. Genou. 
I hunted hard, though I missed my Game; and though some of my Brethren were found Tardy— of which some twenty six being since Impeached— I have seen Executed— yet I hope the General heard of my Diligence.  Mass. 
I did, my Politic Father, thou art Honest.  Genou. 
Thou art a Coxcomb, and I'm satisfied. Aside.  Mass. 
But this Mataloni still goads my Heart— hah, have I no way to Revenge myself?— Yet now I have it— his Wife, his Wife must do't, I'm now resolved on't— I'll send this Priest to fright her further, and then Attack myself— A Bottle or two more, will make me fit— the Prince there must know nothing— I'll leave him therefore here— Go once more, mount the Traitor's Heads. And, Brother— and you my Officers, I invite ye to my Closet for an hour, to drink a private Brimmer— come along Boys, we'll have one Glass before we part, Success to our next meeting in the Cathedral.  Omnes. 
Bless the General, Bless the D. Exeunt all but Don. Tib. Blowzab. etc.  Don Tib. 
' dsheart, they are all gone, and have left me to be Baited. Aside.  Ursul. 
Gadslid, did ye ever see such Sneaks as the General and my Major ar●, ●if they ha'n't flinched from the Glass, to go and parboil their Guts with Coffee now— there's no Spirit in Spanish, poise on't, I hate such Trifling— if we come to be Merry, let's go through stitch; where does the Prince's Health stand? Blowzabella sits and throws Pellets at the Prince.  Belu. 
Here 'tis, and o'er the Lefthand Thumb it comes to himself; here's your Health, my Lord— would I had him in one of our Tan-pits at home. Aside.  Blowz. 
Ah, he's a precious one— Pelts him.  Don Tib. 
I must get out some way or other, this rampant Fishwife will pelt my Eyes out else.  Blowz. 
My Lord, I think I heard you say, you were never Married, and truly you deserve to be Prized for't extremely— Odsfish, a Bachelor has such a peremptory sort of way with him to Married Men; Oh, faugh, a Married Man's quite another thing, I know't by my Husband.  Don Tib. 
So, if Cuckolding this Fish General now were a Revenge sufficient for the Nobility— I think I'm in a fair way to Oblige 'em.  Belu. 
Madam Ursula, what thinks your Ladyship of another Song?  Ursul. 
Why truly Madam, very well, if your Ladyship will oblige us.  Belu. 
Nay, Madam, the best Voice must be preferred always.  Blowz. 
Nay, nay,— rather than let both your Ladyships bustle about it, I'll do it myself— my Lord the Prince, prithee come and sit nearer me— and don't lie glaring at me with your Twinklers, but come and hear my Song, 'tis a merry one I'll promise ye; now how d'ye like it. Sings here.  Don Tib. 
Oh, 'tis most Ravishingly well, Madam— thus am I obliged to Lie two or three times a day at least to keep myself in Favour. ' dsDeath, there's no getting off: Oh, I think I have it— Pulls a out Paper Odso, I had forgot a business of Importance, which the General should have seen before; I beg your Prrdon, Ladies, I must be abrupt and go seek him.  Blowz. 
Pshaw, not yet, my Lord, not yet, 'tis time enough to seek him come, come, pray let our Business be done here first.  Don Tib. 
Oh, Madam, 'tis from the Viceroy, and of prodigious Consequence: Curse on my Fortune, that envy's me this pleasurable Minute, but I'll dispatch and return, Ladies, with all haste imaginable.  Blowz. 
Well, you know my Closet, my Lord— and since you must go, pray dispatch quickly— and you shall find us there; we'll go and settle our Stomachs with a dram or two of my Water; for you must know, my Lord, I make such Water, such heavenly Water, it will make a young Fellow Frisk up to the Moon, and an old Fellow's Heart dance the Canaries.  Don Tib. 
I am instructed, Madam, your Humble Servant: 'Tis well I fou● this Excuse— I should have been Drunk too, if I had stayed, I find. Ex. D. Ti●  Blowz. 
Well, Odsfish, he's the Prince of a Man every way— and we'll have his Health again before we part, I'faith; Come, let's enjoy ourselves, we'll think no more of the sneaking and pinching of our former days, but hug Fortune, and take Pleasure in by Bellyfuls; come along, Lasses: What, we must do great things now. Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Mataloni and Rock. Rock. 
She's in her private Alcove there— and the Cardinal's gone to her, I suppose to help her in her secret Devotion, these Churchmen are rare Terriers, they can hunt in a dark Corner rarely. Odd, she's a luscious Creature, Friend, hast ever seen her? When he's gone, I'll try if I can Ferret her myself.  Mat. 
Cursed Imp of Beelzebub, what does he say? But d'ye hear, Friend, I'm ordered here unseen, to observe their Actions, let us withdraw then— the General at yonder door would have you to wait his coming— and then give me Notice.  Rock. 
Well, Sir, I hear ye; I do most damnably hate this Fellow, and yet I dare not quarrel with him— and yet the Rascal interlopes upon my Business— and I find, creeps into the General's Favour every day more and more— and must Ruin me in time; say you so, why then be wise, Friend, and Ruin him first— send him packing, and if thou hast not two penny worth of Courage, Oons, buy two penny worth of Rats-bain, and that will do't every whit as well. Ex. R.  Mat. 
I've sent that Fellow on a trivial Errand: because he should not hear the approaching Passages, and see where my dear Belleraiza comes; Oh, how my Heart pants with uncommon Joy which my hopes give me of my good Success— she Weeps, hah, and looks pale— and talks with Passion; perhaps these Devils may have wronged her Virtue— Oh, Hell, if that be so, I'm lost for ever; I am afraid to hear, and yet must listen.  Enter Cardinal and Duchess. Dutch. 
Thus every hour they torture me, first, they fright me with my Lord's being Taken, and then follows the Villain's Brutal Love.  Card. 
Let your kind Heart with this assurance rest, he yet is free and safe.  Dutch. 
Blessed be that Tongue, the pangs and hourly sorrows I must suffer for him, now I shall bear the better— for I expect this Evening a fresh Onset, another odious Love-sollicitation, and now I am prepared.  Mat. 
Prepared for it! how my Impatience burns me— I'll go forward and try her now myself.  Card. 
Oh, this perfidious wicked faithless Wretch! he swore to me, and bound it also with solemn Vows and serious Protestations, to be the Author of no more vile Actions; he promised to lay down Arms too, and then take up his old Mechanic Occupation— but his unbalanced Head forgets it; thus want of Honour in all base Born Creatures, make 'em so little value things so Weighty.  Dutch. 
Yonder another of his Engines comes— Oh, how I hate that horrid baneful Face, and the more horrid purpose he's Employed in, which rather than consent to, or be forced, I've yet a means left in my power to help me, one dear, dear Remedy I've yet obtained, to keep my Faith to my dear Lord, and free me. Shows the Viol of Poison.  Card. 
Take heed best Daughter— how you offend the Deity, or doubt the aid of Providence, by using Violence on yourself, you have heard self-Murderers Punishment.  Dutch. 
Oh, preach it not, good Father— Heaven were unmerciful; cruel Extent, to expect generous Virtue should wait to the last Moment for a Miracle.  Card. 
Heaven guard ye sooner, I do not doubt it will— your Business seems with us, Sir— what's your Commission?  Matal. 
The General expects a private Conference with the Lady— the Business is not proper for your Ear, my Lord.  Card. 
If 'tis a sin Affair, as I suspect, it is most proper that I should be near, with holy Admonitions to prevent it.  Mat. 
Prevent the sallies of hot Love, my Lord, with cold Divinity, 'tis vain, vain Labour, good your Grace retire— to you Madam, I am to tell this News— your Lord is Taken, and by the General's Order, Dies to Morrow, unless to night your beauteous Charms repeal it.  Dutch. 
Peace, horrid Screech-owl— Oh, for a Basilisks Eyes to blast the Author of the dreadfulest Tidings that e'er forced through the Ear into the Heart. Weeps What think ye now, My Lord, of patient Virtue, waiting for Champion Guards sent down from Heaven, one Hours delay may cause the brave Intention too late to be effected; the Ravisher's coming, Hell's Gates are open, and he rushes in, methinks I hear him already, no more hope of Divine help then— but be sudden. Apart.  Mat. 
My Lord, your Absense will be very requisite.  Card. 
My Presence is much more— I will not still— but with my Bosom bare, oppose the worst that Lust and Rage can offer to her Chastity. Oh, thou bright Mirror of Celestial goodness, thou Pattern in perfection of blessed Women, think not I e'er will leave thee till I'm Dead, no, we'll both die e'er Villainy shall Prosper; then when the Beams of Immortality have rarified this Clod we wear below, 
The glorious Stars of Piety and Love,  
Shall we mount upwards, and be fixed Above.   Mat. 
Madam, you see the Cardinal's Old and Obstinate, I hope you will consider better.  Dutch. 
It is, it is resolved, I'll do it with a Smile, and calm as Infants in a Lethargy— and so prevent the Death of that good Man— that honest Bishop, for he's one I'm sure.— I have considered, Sir, To Mataloni.  Mat. 
Now hold my Temper— well, Madam, what's the result?  Dutch. 
Why, Sir, Extremity conquers all Resolves— my Husband's Death and my own Misery, are things of Weight— pray take aside the Cardinal, and mould him but to give me Absolution, only to satisfy a scrupulous Conscience, and then I'll give an Answer satisfactory.  Mat. 
Tho that dire Answer gives me Life or Death— my fatal Curiosity must hear it.— A word, my Lord Goes to the Cardinal— then she pulls out the Viol.  Dutch. 
Now aid me, Love— ye Powers that value Honour, strengthen my Heart and Hand. Is preparing to drink.  Card. 
Away— hold, noblest Daughter dash the Poison down, famish Despair, still let us trust to Providence.  Mat. 
Ha— the Poison— Almighty Powers, what had I like to have done! Oh, thou sweet Angel. Rushes to Embrace.  Dutch. 
Stand off, blackest Devil. She pushes him back.  Mat. 
Off my Disguise— Oh, let thy sight be free, whilst to thy panting Heart, I give thy Husband— thy Love, thy Mataloni.  Dutch. 
Mataloni, Is't possible! Oh, thou Extreme of Joy! Embraces him eagerly.  Mat. 
My Wife, my Soul, my dearest Belleraiza— forgive my late Curiosity, which but for this good Lord's preventing it, had damned me past Redemption— Oh, thou best of Women.  Card. 
This is th' exactest work of Providence.  
The sacred Grace was here even to a Miracle.  Mat. 
How I've adventured, and what Dangers passed, I'll tell at better leisure, let it suffice now— this Ring gives means for your delivery, which we'll this Instant put in Execution.  Dutch. 
New Joy so crowds my Heart, I cannot bear it.  Mat. 
Hark'e, some body's coming sure.  Mat. 
'Tis so; here's th' Secretary— hah, and that Villain Jesuit that broaced the late Conspiracy— stand still, my Love, I'll get but th' Wind of 'em— and then we are safe enough. Goes behind the Door.  Enter Rock and Genovino. Rock. 
Look'e, they're together still— I think the Devil's in these Cardinals— when once they get a Woman into their Clutches, they'll never let her go.  Genou. 
Why, Sir, I hope you don't doubt but we can distinguish Blessings Sir, of which a Woman is not I think, the meanest, when she is Beautiful and Kind which this must be through mere necessity, she knows she's in the Trap.  Mat. 
And so are you— good Polecat, and your Fellow Vermin there. draws.  Genou. 
Horror— who is't I see— the Duke of Mataloni.  Rock. 
The Devil.  Mat. 
Stir not a Foot, Villains— for if you do, your Souls follow the Motion; and though your Crimes deserve immediate Hell, yet from the noble hand of Mataloni— thus grovelling down, your baseness keeps ye safe.— Come my fair Love, and my most honoured Father, this is our happy Moment, let's pursue it. On my Disguise once more, and in my Chamber I've one for thee, my Blessing; then through the Guards we'll haste to th' Viceroy's Castle, and leave those locked up close to plot new Mischief. They lock Rock and Genou.  Card. 
Heaven's Care, admired Mataloni— go lead on. in, then Exeunt.  Dutch. 
Thus does just Heaven atone for cares of Life,  
With the best Husband,  Mat. 
And most Charming Wife.  Rock. 
We have made a rare hand on't; a Plague on your Mousetrap, you ominous Vermin, let's see now if you can Conjure us out here: let's hear your Sophistry; break open the Lock there, with a Pox t'e.  Genou. 
I might as well Curse your dull Pate, Sir Scribbler, to let a slight Disguise outwit ye thus— how came he into Trust?  Rock. 
Why the Devil owed me a spite; I brought him to the General first, 'tis true, mistaking him for a Bandito— and finding him even bloated with a Discovery;— but what's that to the present purpose? What business had you there with the Duchess? 'Twas to know that, drew me hither after ye, I had been safe else.  Genou. 
I had particular Order, I was to Pump her.  Rock. 
Were ye so, Timothy Transub— were ye so indeed; and for which pumping Design, there's a good Thump for ye Rascal: d'sheart, another Interloper in my Business, come on Rogue, are ye good at Procuring, as soon as ever ye have got into the Bobtail'd Mode, a swelled Nose and a black Eye, are proper for ye; I'll make ye look a right Band presently. They Fight.  Genou. 
This Purse shall do me Justice instantly— I'll be revenged, nay, though I lose the Money, the Spirit moves now, and thou shalt feel my Anger.  In the Scuffle puts a Purse into Rock 's Pocket; they fight on. Enter Massaniello with a Key. Mass. 
Heated with Wine, and fit now for the purpose; Where is this Charming Duchess, whose bright Beauty e'er since I saw her, has inflamed my Heart; my Heart, that has possession of all Pleasures that Greatness brings in its full range of Power, shall Sat its Wishes with one Bliss beyond it, the best and dearest, a fair Lady's Love, than I may boast, I have been truly Happy.— The Cardinal is gone hence, but where's the Lady; and where my Creatures, Rock and Genovino.  Rock. 
Ah, he's Flustered, I see— we shall have a rare time on't— would I were any where, but where I am, though 'twere in an Oven that had just been heated, I could not be in a greater Sweat I'm sure.  Mass. 
Ha, are not these they— or do my Eyes deceive me? Is not that Rock?  Rock. 
The Ghost of Rock, and please ye, but not the real Substance, that was frighted away with an Apparition of the Duke of Mataloni, that was here just now.  Mass. 
How he tortures me— what, Mataloni, Dogbolt.  Rock. 
Why Sir, in short then, since it must out, the Bandito Captain that you have Entertained and Trusted— was that Devil, Duke of Mataloni in Disguise.  Mass. 
Hell blast thy Tongue, and where, where's the Lady, Rascal?  Rock. 
Gone, gone, Sir, gone— he threatened to Murder us if we cried out or stirred, and then took her away, and Locked us in— and by virtue of the Ring you gave him— they're passed the Guards by this time.  Mass. 
How my Rage Chokes me— I could tear myself, dash my besotted head, and with these hands pull from their Sockets these dull useless Lights— that could not guide my sense in such an Exigent— Sense, Death and Hell, I had no Sense— no Soul; for had I either, or my Sight, or Feeling— I must know what my Nature so Abhorred— through the mere force of strong Antipathy. Ha, but now I think on't Dog, 'twas your Officious Villainy first brought him to me— how came it? Answer that Slave.  Rock. 
Alack, by chance, my Lord— mere chance; he said, he had great Business with ye.  Genou. 
Ah, Mr Secretary, no more Deceits, respect your Conscience, good Mr. Secretary.  Mass. 
What sayst thou, art thou privy to any thing? Does he play Fals● with me?  Rock. 
Not I, my Lord, upon my Soul. What does that Rascal mean?  Genou. 
My Lord, though I see his Conscience is quite fear'd, yet I must ease my own— the Man is Guilty— Accomplice with Carraffa and their Faction— and bribed to assist the duchess's Escape.  Mass. 
Oh, monstrous Hellhound.  Rock. 
Here's a damned Rogue, for ye, here's a Priest for the Devil— I hope your Excellency won't believe him— for may I be Parboiled, or Roasted upon a Grid-Iron my Lord, if ever I saw Carraffa.  Genou. 
Oh, vile, vile Sinner,— dar'st thou look in my Face and say this?  Rock. 
Look in thy Face— why thou confounded Villain— I confess, thy Impudence does dazzle me— but I beseech ye, my Lord don't believe him.  Genou. 
Not believe me, why, my Lord, he owned it a little before you came, upon which, my Choler being raised, we had a Bustle and some Blows, which is the occasion of this my disorder both of Head and Habit:— But for a more convincing Proof, search him, my Lord, and without doubt, you may find Carraffa's Purse, in which the Golden Bribe is now about him.  Rock. 
Search me, Satan— send all thy Imps to do't, I fear 'em not— but come, I'll do't myself— I'll make a plain Discovery, my Lord, Empty myself before ye— Oh, Murder, Treason. Pulls out the Purse.  Mass. 
The very Purse, by jove— and with Carraffa's cipher on't; Oh, damned, damned Traitor.  Genou. 
You have made a very plain Discovery, in Troth, Mr. Secretary.  Mass. 
I will be so revenged.— Here Father. Gives him the Purse.  Rock. 
I am Bewitched— I'm not able to speak— Oh, Dog, Dog, Dog.  Mass. 
This Key unlocks all the Doors— where are my Guards there.  Rock. 
I beseech your Lordship, hear me but a word. He unlocks the Door.  Mass. 
Away Contagion— Seize that Traitor there, Whip him round the Marketplace, then Hang him in Chains, for Crows and Daws to feed on.  Enter Bissignano, Pedro, Bartallo, Jacomo, Gaspar, Scipio 2 d: Jesuit and Guards. Genou. 
I think now, Friend, I am better than my Word— I only promised ye a Whipping, you know— and now have added something more.  Rock. 
Oh, that my hands were at Liberty, Devil.  2 jes. 
Alack, is he th' occasion of thy Sentence? have Patience a little, and my tender Conscience shall help thee to a Revenge— My Lord, be pleased to read that Paper. Gives Massaniello a Paper.  Mass. 
What's here! a List of the Conspirators in the Powder-Plot, and Genovivino's hand amongst the foremost— 'Tis so, I know his Character, and this the Fellow that the Cardinal spoke of, who made the first Discovery— Guards, take that Jesuit too, and use him like the other—  Genou. 
Oh, Devil, hast thou deserted me at last?  Rock. 
So, so come along Priest;— we shall see now how that sleek Back of yours can bear the Lash— and your Neck become a Halter— and now you may give yourself to the Devil too, if you please.  Genou. 
Well, the gaping Rascals shall not hear me confess any thing; however, I'll be true to our Order— who I know, will all vouch my Innocence, pray my Soul out of Purgatory, and make me a Saint for ever into the bargain.  Exeunt Guards, with Rock and Genovino. Don Tib. 
These were both Rogues, and have deserved their Punishment. But now, Sir, to some Business of more Weight; the Viceroy and Great collateral Council— have caused the Articles to be Engraved like those of Old of Charles the Fifth and Ferdinand, all that your Heart can wish▪ to free the People— is there Inscribed with care and diligence. A Marble Monument is Erected likewise, where in large Golden Letters is Deciphered the Enfranchisement of Naples from all gabels— by Great Massaniello.— You are desired therefore to meet in the Cathedral Church to Morrow, where after high Mass and Celestial Music, the Deed's to be on both sides Sealed and Ratified.  Mass. 
I'll hear no more of trifling Business now, my Head contains a Tempest, my Brain burns fiercer than AEtna or Vesuvius' Mounts— I'm mad with Rage, and therefore let all Nature, like me, be in Confusion; he that speaks of Order and discretion in Affairs, is my Foe; my hour, shall be Mankind's, and in that moment when I Wisely act, let them be struck with endless Lethargy:— am I not here Supreme? I am; and yet my Soul Wishes to Sway the rest— and that the Globe obeyed my Will— I would confine the Winds— stop the due course of Seas, and make the Sun influence the World by my peculiar Order; but since that cannot be, let this suffice— 
That with a Nod, vast Legions I Command,  
And from Tyrannic Yokes have freed the Groaning Land.   Pedro. 
My Lord, You must not mind what he says now. Exit Massaniello. Love, Anger and Claret, have made him at present a little out of Order, but you shall see he'll quickly come to himself again.  Bart. 
He talks none of the Wisest now, 'tis true, but for all that, I'll wage a fat Bullock against one of thy Sacks of Meal, Neighbour, that he goes to Church as soberly to Morrow as the Cardinal himself.  jacom. 
Oh, no doubt on't, no doubt on't.  Scip. 
Where's Valasco? I warrant now his Master's gone to be Hanged, that poor Rascal will be out at Elbows again.  Gasp. 
Ay and out at heels too, if thou out of thy Noble Compassion dost not help to mend him, Cobbler.  Don Tib. 
Well, Friends, you'll put the General in mind then, you know 'tis a Business of Concern.  jacom. 
We will, we will, my Lord.  Don Tib. 
He has sworn to lay down Arms, and yet I doubt him, for Power, like new Wine, in so young a Head, may well intoxicate and turn the Brain— yet not to do't, ushers his certain Ruin; for let Rebellion revel for a while, and by th' Almighty's Suffrage— plague a Kingdom, there will be yet an hour marked out for Vengeance; this than I Prophecy for Massaniello; 
Though high on Fortune's Wheel he's seated now,  
A time soon comes, when he must fall as low.  Curtain falls  
The End of the First Part.     

THe First and Second Collections of Mr. D'urfey's Comical Songs: Printed for Henry Playford, at his Shop in the Temple-Change, Fleetstreet, and sold at most Musick-Shops in Town.   

THE FAMOUS History and Fall OF MASSAINELLO OR, A FISHERMAN A PRINCE.  
The Second PART.  
Written by Mr. DURFEY.  
LONDON: Printed for I. Nutt near Stationers-Hall, 1699.   

PROLOGUE to the Second Part.  
AS some stale Luckless Mistress of the Town,  
With former Lovers out of Favour grown;  
Tries Art in vain new Appetite to raise,  
And bring into fresh Play her slighted Face:  
In such forlorn condition now are Plays.  
The Muse's Grace no longer can persuade,  
We find their Beauty, or your Taste decayed.  
The Season too our Interest does oppose,  
Warm Wether and May-Fair are Martial Foes;  
For whilst th' Great at th' Park in Coaches Loll,  
And Dames of humbler Fortunes foot the Mall,  
And Citts divert themselves at Miller's Droll.  
We strut alas, who cease no Pains nor Care,  
To empty Boxes, and to Benches bare:  
Hear what a Dismal sound from Hollow Walls,  
Fills our sad Ears when a fierce Hero bawls.  
Thus when you're absent our own Knells we Toll,  
And loss of you is our departed Soul:  
Hard Fate too, that the Sun that brings us Flowers,  
And cheers the Nation round with Genial Powers,  
Should to all Harvests be a friend but ours.  
Yet thus it is, when as their Zeal's inclined  
To praise his Beams, we pray for Rain and Wind:  
In Rain to Marrobone no Bowler goes,  
And Wind the Ladies from the Circle blows:  
But when the Sun shines clear, than all are fled,  
Whilst we like Cattle in a Parch'd-up Mead,  
Condemned to one poor Barren spot of Ground,  
Run to next Covert, where cool Draughts are found;  
There chew the Cud our Audience turned away,  
And drink to better Fortune the next day.  
This your hard usage oft has forced us to;  
You will not sure such Rigour always show;  
Our Second Part needs must indulge your Taste,  
'Tis th' Rebel's Fall, much shorter too than th' Last.  
Let a regard to both, your Humour sway,  
Let some be for the Park, some for the Play.  
As for you Bowling Sparks can you find here  
No other sport as good this time th'th ' Year,  
Is Side-Box quite forgot, and the masked Dear?  
Nay then we must despair we shall prevail,  
All Hopes are gone, when Wit and Wom●n fail▪  

DRAMATIS PERSONA.  
DON Rodrigo Pons de Leon, Viceroy of Naples and Duke of Arcos. Don Tiberio Prince of Bissignano. Guiseppe Duke de Caivano. Cardinal Fillomarino, Archbishop of Naples. Duke di Mataloni.  Massainello, General of the Neapolitans. Pedro di Amalfi, His Brother a Ruffian. Pimponio, A Villain and Parasite, but Witty and Comical, Gentleman-Usher to Blowzabella. Cosmo and Pietro Two Young Lewd Fellows Companions to Massainello. WOMEN. Dona Aurelia, The Vicequeen. Dona Beleraiza, Duchess of Mataloni. Dona Fellicia, Daughter to the Duke di Caivano and her Niece. Blowzabella, Wife to Massainello. Ursula, Her Woman.  
Suitors, Musicians, Masquers, Singers, Dancers, and Attendants.  
The Scene Naples, the Time Four Days.    

THE FAMOUS History and Fall OF MASSAINELLO.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Viceroy, Caivano, Cardinal, Mataloni. Vice. 
STILL does Heaven's Anger reign; still is poor Naples crushed by the weight of proud Rebellious Power: Nature, and the whole Face of Things are altered, and seem to yield the sway to Mad Confusion: Yet in the Hurry of our strange Misfortunes, methinks I feel a spark of Joy, my Lord, * To Mataloni. to see you safe, and having heard your Story, at once rejoice and wonder.  Mat. 
I humbly thank your Highness; and declare amongst the Plunder of the Harassed Nobles, tho' I have felt the worst Barbarity, Rebels could act, or Malice make inveterate; Yet my relieving my dear Belleraiza, tho' my unnatural Brother lost his Life for't, has clearly wiped off Fortune's Injuries, and made me once more happy.  Caiu. 
And to Parallel your Joy, my Lord, let me exert my own: I have a Daughter dear to me as Health, or the Life-blood that warms my Aged Heart; Trained up in good by an Indulgent Mother, and ever since Kind, Virtuous and Obedient; she by your timely notice Scaped from Outrage, and e'er the Horror of my Houses Burning, was saved with me to bless you for the Deed.  Card. 
Almighty Powers, what horrid sounds are these! Plunder and Burnings are the dismal Kneels that Toll perpetually! Black Horror, Revels, and Ruin Triumphs in the Streets of Naples; whilst in the Viceroy's watery downcast Eyes, we read the baleful Tidings of Distress: But yet, my Lord, we must not drink Despair; that Draught let me throw by, and dash the Goblet, urged by the Fiends to hinder future Blessings.  Vice. 
No, my Good Lord, my Courage is my Antidote against Despair, and keeps the Poison from me; yet to a Soul less great than mine to see, the strange Revolves of Fate, the Court's Dishonour, the Ruin of our best Nobility, the danger of our Starving; all Provisions on pain of Death, being hindered to come near us; and this commanded by a Beggar's Brat; A base Plebeian moulded from a Dunghill! This to a Heart less brave, my Lord, might shock and force the Soul from her Religious Ward, to prompt a desperate Action.  Card. 
Therefore, Faith, and its Twin-sister, Hope, must rule your Reason.  Vice. 
Therefore it does so; but my Wife, I fear, has other Sentiments; her noble Spirit, bred from the Princely Race of the Medinae, to be blocked up, and as it were Imprisoned by the Rabble, breeds a ferment in her Breast, not easy to be quelled.  Mat. 
She is brave and Royal— and disdains to sue,  
A Soul Divine, and only worthy you.—  Caiu. 
Though her Confinement must be Irksome to her, being blocked up at Land— yet th' Sea is open; which poor Advantage tho' of slight regard is, as I understand, now her best Comfort; for every Evening in her Rich Felluca, accompanied by my Daughter, who to please her, sings to her Lute, and Charms the Neighbouring Echoes, between the Castle-Port, and the Wide Ocean, she Rows to take the Air.  Enter a Servant. Seru. 
So please your Excellence, the Vicequeen in haste desires to have Audience.  Enter Aurelia, Belleraiza and Fellicia. Vice. 
Tell her she's Welcome.— More ill News, I fear, has reached her knowledge, for her Cloudy Brow seems to foretell a Storm. Now Madam— What's the Matter?  Aur. 
Matter of Death,— Nay, more, Damnation, were it in my power: Oh that as my just Anger makes my Breath vent out these loud Complaints, it had the power to blast this Monster with Eternal Plagues,— this Screeking Mandrake, this vile Earthborn Clod, that dares Profanely thus send Saucy Missives to blast the Eyes, and grieve the Hearts of Princes. Shows a Letter.  Vice. 
From Massainello?  Aur. 
He!— the ill-bred Rebel! Writes in a Style as if he were my Equal, Advice to me— that I should speak to you, to you my Lord, as you expect his Favour,— his Favour, Oh Gygantick Impudence! would make Hell blush, and every Fiend wear Crimson▪ To send him back the Duchess Mataloni!  Mat. 
Audacious Slave!  Aur. 
His Ruffian Brother too would see my Niece,— my dear Fellicia here too as a Suitor: Oh how a Noble and August Disdain warms every Sinew!— How the Active Blood 
Burns in my Veins, and makes my Heart all flame,  
So eager am I to revenge this shame.   Card. 
Have Patience, Gracious Madam.  Aur. 
'Tis impossible: Such Injuries are passed all Moderating: He says, the Duke there basely stole his Wife, whom he designed to keep there as a Hostage, till th' Articles were Sealed; and if Submission does not atone, and is not made on th' Instant, she too sent back together with my Niece. He ends his Scroll with a vainglorious Rant, that he'll send Power to fetch her back by force; and beat the Castle-walls about our Ears.  Bell. 
Oh that my Sorrows had but force enough to lay me in my Grave, that I might rest!  Mat. 
I hope my Love does wish too, I should be with her there.  Bell. 
Or that you and I were Villagers, born in some far remote and peaceful Land, that War's Confusion ne'er did understand; where we instead of Greatness had been blessed, with darling Comforts from our daily Labour; where Love still exercised his Charming Power, and sweet Contentment made us wish no more; 
Where Anxious Cares of State could ne'er return,  
But happy Joys succeed each Night and Morn.   Fell. 
But how shall poor Fellicia hope for Comfort, if from her Father she is forced away? Oh let me stand the worst of Fortune's Malice, rather than from my Life's Original, be parted till I'm dead: Besides, to toll me of a Ruffian's Love,— tortures Kneels. my Heart so, I e'en hate myself for giving him occasion but to name it. Love, as I'm told is the Soul's choicest Blessing; the greatest Joy that can reward the Brave; or Beauty joined with Virtue can expect. A Sacred charming and peculiar Grace; and e'er that's forced, which Merit should enjoy, by Rebel-power, good Heaven let me die.  Calv. 
Thou Living Mirror of thy Mother's Sweetness in whom I now behold by kind reflection, the former Joy that used to warm my Heart, take this Assurance from a tender Father,— never to separate thy Duty from me, nor yield thee up for fear of any Torture that Cruelty can threaten.  Vice. 
And what say you, my Lord?  Mat. 
When I consent to send the Panting Heart from out my Bosom, I mean its dearest Guest, my Belleraiza,— a Hostage to Rebellious Insolence; may the cursed Rabble, like a Flock of Vultures, tear me to pieces as a common Prey.  Card. 
Nor will I e'er advise it,— Villainy is still most slily couched with a pretence most specious: The Relapse of this uncurbed Plebeian— wounds my Breast, with such a hated sense of his Impiety, that I abhor all Motions he can make, therefore let's trust in Heaven and our Arms.  Vice. 
Your Eminence has spoke my Heart; let's fortify, and to his Face send back his Insolent Message, with a resolved denial; then rely on Heaven's relief, or bravely sighting die.  Aur. 
Die!— 'tis a Pleasure to my Soul to think on't, so we may die revenged— or at least frustrate, the barbarous Plots of base Plebeian Mischief.  Caiu. 
'Tis what shall Crown our Souls with Endless Bliss for a Pain Momentary.  Caiu. 
Which Infants hardly shrink at.  Aur. 
Learn of me ye withering Blossoms of distressed Nobility, how to defy the Ills of Destiny, and worst of Fortune's, Malice. Steel your Hearts with Honour first; then with Generous Resolution; and let Aurelia nobly guide your Steps into the Temple of Perpetual Glory, by a brave Deed irksome to our soft Natures: Yet Portia and Great Sophonisba were our famed Examples, and when Lawless Power, and Savage fury threatens with Captivity,- when that hour comes, mark me ye Twins of Virtue when you behold my Conquered Spirits faint, with a bright Dagger drenched in my warm Gore, or my Eyes languish with some Poisonous Draught, which my own hand has nobly ministered.— 
Then choose your fate equal in each degree,  
Scorn poor Rebellious Rage, and die like me.  Exit with Bell. and Fell.  Card. 
Thus when a noble Heart inspired with Honour is filled with the sharp sense of smarting Wrongs— thus still it vents its Sorrow,— I must follow her. And tho' I see Grief's Fever rages high, perhaps with care, good Reasons may abate it.  Vice. 
Stay, good my Lord, a moment, for I think I see the Noble Bissignano coming.  Mat. 
'Tis he, my Lord, and in his Cheerful Countenance, I hope I read good News. Enter Bissignano.  Vice. 
Pray Heaven it prove so.  Biss. 
Health to the Viceroy— and to all the rest, my Gracious Lord, and you my Noble Kinsmen.  Vice. 
My good Lord, as well as Wretches who are hourly frighted with Cannons Battering, or Proscription's Terror, as well as those whom a close Siege has rendered incapable of getting Necessaries, or as well as those by Hunger almost pined or gripped by pinching Sorrow, can bid you welcome, we return your Courtesy. And now desire to know our several Dooms; You are Fate's Minister; the Tongue of Destiny;— What Order bring you now? what dreadful Thunder, since his revolt of Sealing th' Articles, and his damned Message to send back the Duchess; must we leave our half-starved Bodies? Ha! what says th'Leviathan? Who's to be swallowed next?  Biss. 
Himself, my Lord, into the deepest Pit of the Infernals, sooner than such feared harm, should touch your Highness: No, no, my Lord, I bring ye better News; the Wind is changed, and his Intoxicated Brain relieved by Rest, which the full Bowls before distempered, he now resumes his Sense, and seems ashamed of his late breach of Promise to the Cardinal.  Vice. 
Is't possible! can he relent!  Biss. 
He does with great Concernment; owns too his late rude Message to the Vicequeen; and says, the Duke's Escape with his fair Lady was noble and well-plotted.  Mat. 
This looks too sudden, I fear a Snake lurks underneath these Flowers;— prepared to sting.— But what concerning th' Articles— Does he intent—  Biss. 
There lies the best and chiefest of my Embassy,— his Head grown sober now, and the hot Fumes of Drinking being abated, with a Look that pictured Gravity with Awkered Grace:— He bid me thus express him: Tell his Excellence, Don Roderick Pons de Leon, Duke of Arcos, Viceroy of Naples under great King Philip, that I the General of the Neapolitans— Tomas— but vulgarly called Massainello, after my shame for late Miscarriages, which my Intemperance urged, do beg his Pardon,— and will, as I late gave my word, to morrow, meet him in the Cathedral, there to Seal the Articles of Enfranchisement o'th' People from Gabels, and all heavy Impositions pursuant to Great Charles the Emperor's Charter; and that it may last in perpetual memory, a splendid Monument shall be erected, with an Inscription writ in Golden Characters, This wondrous Action famous to Posterity.  Caiu. 
Blessed Turn of Fortune! now the Air clears again,— and th' Sun begins to clear our drooping Plants by Sorrow numbed and blasted.— But will this Humour hold?  Biss. 
Most certainly,— his Orders are given out— Then you my Lord * to the Cardinal. he spoke of next with mighty Reverence; he styled you— wise, his good and Gracious Father: And tho' he knew your Eminence's Charity so great, you would Absolve him; yet his fhame would hardly let him beg it.  Mat. 
This is wonderful!— But owing all to my Good Lord Cardinal's management, whose Sacred Wit, and Influencing Reasons, with a Seraphic power of Spiritual Virtue, have charmed a human Soul into this Clod, and made him melt before the Beams of Piety.  Card. 
My Lords, my Heart is full of Joy to find kind Heaven at last has blessed my happy Labour,— with such fair hopes of a full Crop hereafter;— and now I hold it an especial action that the Vicequeen be instantly informed of this great Act of Providence; 'twill calm her.— 
Hush, the rough Billows that now wildly Rowl,  
And quell the storm that Rages in her Soul.   Vice. 
It shall be so, I'll instantly go to her, and then prepare for the Great Deed to Morrow:— And since the Change of Empire and of States are done by Heaven's Immutable Decree, and human Power opposes it in vain; 
No more the Sacred doom let us withstand;  
Reason directs, the Powers above Command.  Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Blowzabella and La Poop, the first in her Night-dress drinking Chocolate. Blowz. 
Who's there, La Poop?— Where are ye?  L. Poop. 
A vot Service, Madam— vill you please to be dressé?  Blowz. 
No, no, wait a little longer— this is but my first Pot of Chocolate, I have drank but six of my Ten Dishes yet.  L. Poop. 
Ah bless your Ladyship— you have de ver leetell Stomach— you soop, soop, soop— de pavure quantity de Chocolate in de Morning, but you Eat noting all the day long, besides dat is considerable. Ma foy you vill never put your shape in the fashion, if you piddle, piddle— at does rate.  Blowz. 
Shape!— Odsfish, I Cram myself so every day, that I'm ready to break my Stays— I can't tell— what thou wouldst have me do more to make my shape fashionable.  L. Poop. 
Ah Madam, de downright Trute of the ting is you must wear no Stay at all:— 'Tis below the Woman's of quality,— I mean dat is marry— to pinsh— de Hippolito or de Belly.— See dat be no marry, expect de Husband must pinsh a little,— and reason good.— But the Wife must let all ting be loses,— and show full, plump,— wid shield, or widout shield, dat is all one, plump, plump, 'tis de ver graceful fashion mafoy.  Blowz. 
Plump,— nay, if I am taken for one of the Lean ones, the Looker on sees double, and the Devil made the Spectacles; I'm sure I han't felt any Ribs I have this Ten years: And I weigh, * Sups her Chocolate. let me see I weigh just three and fifty Stone, and two Pound.  L. Poop. 
Aw dat is noting— dear is one Relation of mine in France, dat is call Madamoselle La Poope, dat weigh tre hundred Stone: But see Madam here come de Lady your Sister,— and your new Gentleman Usher wid her, who come to Comb your Head; I hear he is born in England— but is bred in France,— or else he be no fit for your Service, Mafoy.  Enter Ursula and Pimpwell with a Combing Cloth. Blowz. 
Oh Madam Ursula— how fares thy ladyship's Body? Come Prithee sit thee down,— and take a dish of Chocolate, whilst I have my Head ordered, by my new Fellow here: the great Ladies I hear use Men for their Morning Service; and now our Condition is altered, we must follow the Mode: What we must do great things now.  Ursul. 
'Tis a good handsome Black Fellow * Ursula's Dish is filled by L. Poop., and perhaps has no stinking Breath.  Pimp. 
Which is more than she can say for herself to my knowledge; I found that out by her whispering me just now. Aside.  Blowz. 
Well Friend, and Prithee what is thy Name, I have, I think, never asked thee that yet, did I?  Pimp. 
Humh— not above forty times, Madam; but 'tis natural for Great Ladies to forget.  Blowz. 
Ay, 'tis so.—  Pimp. 
What Essence will your Ladyship use to day, jessamine, Tubarose, or Amber?  Blowz. 
The dearest, the dearest always:— But as I was saying, Humh— Prithee what was't, I asked thee just now: Ha?  Pimp. 
Oh very well, Madam, that looks mighty great indeed; why you asked me my Name, and you must know, Madam, that in England I was Christened, Dick Pimpwell,— but am Dignified since I came hither with the Title of Signior Ricardo. I'm of a Family, Madam, that carried no ordinary Reputation there, if you ever knew any thing of the English Court, you must have heard of the Pimpwells' I'm sure.  Ursul. 
Yes, yes, we hear frequently both of your Courtiers and Citizens too, and sometimes have great diversion with 'em.  Pimp. 
In History, I suppose Madam.  Ursul. 
No, but in Ballads,— and I think that's the better way by much.  Pimp. 
' Gad she's in the right, for the Histories of our former Kings and Nobles are better done in Ballads, than in any Chronicle I ever saw yet there.  Blowz. 
Well, and— dost hear me,— What humour are your young Town-fellows of, how do they wear the day out to divert themselves?  Pimp. 
Why in the Morning they cherish two of their Senses, Madam, Seeing and Smelling: Seeing by the Court they make to a great Looking-Glass; Smelling by Covering themselves from Head to Foot with sweet Powder; and then at Night they Indulge the other three,— Hearing with the Noise of Fiddles; and Tasting and Feeling with a Whore and a Bottle.  Ursul. 
A good merry sort of a Scoundrel, this— I warrant this Fellow has been a Player there, or some such thing:— Well, but I hear they have the name of Rakehells amongst 'em, and are so horribly given to scandal, that they'll abuse all Womankind, as well those they have to do with, as those they have not; and rather than not have the pleasure of Tattling, by their Good will they'll say any thing.—  Pimp. 
Ah— there I must beg your Pardon, Madam, I can name you one thing that by their goodwill they never say.  Blowz. 
What's that, Prithee?  Pimp. 
Their— Prayers, Madam.  Blowz. 
No— why I thought they were most horrible Sticklers for Religion.  Pimp. 
Right, Madam,— they are horrible ones indeed, and 'tis as natural to 'em as to Slaves in the Mines to Dig their Ore; and like that too is generally managed,— for he that toils and labours most about it Ten to one knows the least of the matter.  Ursul. 
And, Ha, ha, ha, well— as to Generation, and that sort of diversion, what are— they are very prone to Coupling, at what Age do they Marry?  Pimp. 
Why the Males never by their goodwill,— but as to the Females, by their goodwill, as soon as they can speak.  Blowz. 
Ha, ha, ha, ye Rascal, well, and as to your State-affairs, we hear there are great feuds amongst ye as well as here; tho' the King has done great things for 'em, and they say— is a very brave Man.  Pimp. 
Ay, he is so, Madam,— but you must know that we English have some Affinity with the nature of some Dogs we have there, We never receive a good Bone but we snap at our Benefactor's Fingers.  Ursul. 
Ha, ha, why Sister— this is an Arch Rogue, this Fellow has more about him than we see.  Pimp. 
Ah, a great deal more, I assure ye, Madam,— your Ladyship shall find I have notable Parts upon occasion.  Blowz. 
Ha, ha, ha, why Sirrah, you're an Arch Rogue indeed, as she says * Patting him with her hand.: But dost hear; My Fellow, La Poop, told me thou hast been in France too: What didst learn there, Prithee, ha?  Pimp. 
Aw, Madam, there I learned the most material things in the whole World, which are, to tie a Muff on with an Air, and to make a huge Back-Perruke for a great Lord, that shall reach down to his Hams: But above all to use like a Gentleman the Comb and the Puff, in the Lady's Service; as thus, now Madam thus, thus * Puffs her Face all over.: This Powder has such virtue, that it will take away all the Freckles— and make the Face as Beautiful at Fourscore as at Five and twenty.  Blowz. 
Odsfish it has a notable scent with it indeed.  Ursul. 
And will it take away Freckles, sayst thou? Well, I'm resolved to try the Experiment then to Morrow.— I'll be Puffed all over, for I've a world of 'em about me.  Blowz. 
Wert thou ever in Holland?  Pimp. 
Yes, Madam, just long enough to spoil my Stomach.  Ursul. 
Why don't they dress Meat well?  Pimp. 
Yes, if you can allow the General Sauce, for there is but one sort there.  Blowz. 
And what's that, Prithee?  Pimp. 
Butter, Butter, Madam,— if you have a cold Jowl of Salmon, and not a Dish of Melted Butter with it, you affront the Constitution of the Country.  Ursula. 
But of what Humours are they, Prithee?  Pimp. 
Why they are greater Lovers of good Bargains than good Breeding; they sight well when there's occasion; and drink largely whether there is or no:— In fine, they are the best Skeyters in a great Frost, but the worst Dancing Masters in Christendom.  Enter Pedro Hastily. Pedro. 
Come, hay where's my Sister Blouse? Oh are ye here! My Brother the General wants ye to give Orders for the Ceremony to Morrow at the Signing the Articles: Your Massainello has carried it now I'faith; he's at the Top, and we'll keep him there in spite of his Scruples of Conscience; he would have you likewise invite the Vicequeen and her Ladies to a Musick-feast. A Ball I think they call it.— 'Tis the Mode amongst Great People.— Come, come away, and you shall know more.  Blowz. 
Odsfish, Brother— but my Hair is not done up, you see, nor my Face quite Patched, is it?  Pimp. 
No, Madam, not half: Besides,— here's two delicate ones,— that will take a great deal of time to place well; I brought 'em from France, and call 'em Venus and Adonis:— The one is for the upper Lip, and t'other for the under, and the witty fancy to have 'em there is— that they may be perpetually kissing one another.  Blowz. 
Well, well, ye witty Rogue, let 'em kiss one another in the next Room then— for I must go to my Husband Massainello.— But d''ee hear, Sirrah, I'll prefer ye.— Stick to me close; d''ee hear?  Pimp. 
Zooks, Madam, but here's my Cupid, this must sit Enthroned upon your ladyship's Nose, or I'm undone.  Sticks a great Patch on her Nose. Blowz. 
Ha, ha, ha,— Well, Odsfish I like this Fellow strangely, Well Sirrah,— stick close to me, and I'll do your business; d''ee hear,— Ha! times are not as they have been: What, we must do Great Things now!  Pimp. 
In this New Lottery I can't miss a Prize,  
When Nobles fall, Valet de Chambers rise.— Exeunt.    

ACT II. The Outer Isle of the Cathedral.  Enter Aurelia, Belleraiza, Fellicia, Mataloni, Caivano, and Attendants. Aur. 
WHat? they are coming then.  Mat. 
Yes, and in Pomp, I hear; the Dunghill-Upstart stressed in Glittering Tissue— with his Sword drawn comes foremost of the Band, and proudly at the Head of fifty Thousand, even Justles with the Viceroy.  Aur. 
The Crawling Snake— warmed by hot Popular Vapours of Applause, now shows his Sting, and would be thought a Dragon: Oh why permits th' avenging power his Thunder, to cleave the Oaks, and shatter Marble Rocks, yet leaves this Prodigy to walk abroad safe and unblasted by Etherial fire?  Caiu. 
Have patience, Madam, and let us mark the Consequence; 'tis bruited he will lay down all Command, and when the Articles are Signed to the People, return to his base Function.  Mat. 
He'll be Damned first— there are too many Woolvish Bloodhounds near him, to urge on mischief, tho' he had resolved against it— to let him keep his Promise.  Bell. 
'Tis most true, for added to his Grovelling sense of Honour he has a Humour various as the Winds, which now visited with the Gust of Greatness, blows his hot Brain to such a Blazing flame, his Soul cannot resist the Rash Emotions, nor do I like this his pretended Coolness, relating to my Escape, but must believe, were the Poor Bird once more within his Cage, her warbling Moans wo●●● hardly purchase freedom.  Fell. 
Ah were I so confined,— my Soul's so weak— I fear 'twould poorly wait upon my Body.— Yet were my Fate so cruel to submit me to hazard Bondage from this Hellish Crew, upon the first approach of that dishonour to quell my fears, and trembling timorous nature: 
I hope brave Aunt your Hand would set me free,  
And give my Fame by Death Eternity.   Aurel. 
My dear Fellicia, my Soul should influence thine, and make thee Valiant: Oh how I scorn our present vile Condition, nor could my swelling heart contain itself at the receiving late a Sawey Message under the Glozing umbrage of Civility— from that ●he-Porpess th' Fishwife Blowzabella,— who by the Gentleman forsooth of he● Chamber, sent to Invite me to a Ball to Night; Was ever Insolence like it! Shall Medina's Noble Daughter and Wife to mighty Roderick. Taint herself, by breathing Air with the vile Jakes of Naples! Oh how a just disdain inflamed my Bosom!  Caiu. 
Your Excellence must needs highly resent it; and yet the Occasions of the present times, the Peace of Naples settling in this Juncture, and Massainello by a slight to his Wife, being piqued might have the humour to revolt,— urged your great heart, I hear, to curb its motions, and condescend to grant it.  Aur. 
You've judged me right, my Lord, I did consent, but with a just Contempt you may imagine. Trumpets and Voices heard within.  Mat. 
By this Music the Choir is coming, and the Viceroy near, who comes through th' Inner part of the Cathedral— where the Monument's Erected.— Here your Excellence may place yourself and view the Ceremony.  
The Scene opens, and discovers a Rich Monument, with this Inscription in Golden Letters, under St. Gennaro's Figure.  
The Tyranny of Nobles being repressed: The Gabels being Abolished: The Public and Private Enemies of our Country being subdued: The Gracious Privileges of Ferdinand the First, Frederick King of Arragon, and Charles' the Emperor being Confirmed and Renewed: Philip the Fourth being Catholic King, and Don Roderick Pons de Leon Duke of Arcos Viceroy, by the Wondrous Valour and Conduct of Thomas Annello de Amalphi alias Massainello the General, the most Faithful People of Naples, and Liberty being redeemed: This Monument was Erected as a Memorial of his Victory obtained, and an Emblem of his Fame to all Posterity.  
The Priests appear in the Front, than Blowzabella, Ursula and her Party come from the other side of the Stage, and place themselves over against the Vicequeen and her Ladies. Blowzabella comes in strutting ridiculous and proudly Looking on the Duchess.  Bell. 
Bless my Eye, the Pageant appears yonder.  Blowzabella Curseys' to Aurel. who returns lightly. Aur. 
What can the Tinsel Poppet make its Honour too, this is wonderful!— Again!— nay then I must Mimic it. Curseys'.  Mat. 
But see, Madam, yonder comes the Fire-drake.  Here the Choir comes forward Singing; after them the Great Cardinal Fillomarino Mytered, bearing a Crosier in his Right Hand, and the Ancient Charter of Naples in the Left. Then Enter Bissignano and Pedro bearing the Arms of the Emperor Charles the Fifth; then Enter the Viceroy carrying the new Articles; and Massainello Richly Attired on his Left Hand, with his Sword drawn; then the Guards and Attendants on both Sides, they walk in Couples round the Stage; then the Viceroy and Massainello, dividing, go and stand on either side the Monument; then Pedro Cosmo Pietro and Attendants divide on each side the Stage; the Priests go backwards Singing into the Body of the Church, only two Principals, who bring a Cushion and lay before the Cardinal, who Kneels on it in the middle of the Stage, and speaks to the Statue of St. Gennaro. Card. 
Great Saint the Guardian of us all below,  
To whom thy Votaries thus humbly bow,  
Smile on thy Sons, that with Devotion Pray,  
And bless the mighty Deeds are done to day.  Here they repeat this, all joining their Voices in a Chorus: Then the Cardinal carries up the Charter to Massainello, and the Viceroy Sealing and delivering him his Articles, Massainello puts up his Sword: Then this Song being in Recitative in Praise of St. Gennaro and the Peace, is Sung. 

A SONG in Two Parts, at the Solemnity of Massainello.  
GLory thou Mortal Paradise,  
Best joy of Noble Souls,  
That all Delights below the Skies,  
Surpasses and Controls.  
In Martial Sounds be now Expressed,  
And let the Spacious Globe be blessed.  
As now our happy Nation,  
Sweet Peace her Beauteous Face appears,  
Now show your Power ye Tuneful Spheres;  
Let Angels Sing and Charm all Ears:  
For Wondrous is th' Occasion.   Mass. 
'Tis now, our Great Protector St. Gennaro by my bold Hand has happy Naples freed,— and now, my Lord, the heavy Yoke laid by— that on my Neck I for the People wore: Thus low I bow to your Authority.— And as plain Massainello, (a poor Fisherman) yet in that poorness born to do great Actions, if I've the Law offended, or your Excellence, I submit my Body to be broke o'th' Wheel, or any Torture that you please to order: 
Since I have ended well, this great Affair,  
What else concerns my life's not worth my Care.   Vice. 
Sir, you have greatly done,— I wish I could say well,— yet in one kind I must confess it is. Your life's secure too— the King has not proscribed ye, and I could wish some of these Nobles could as well acquit ye as I, that give ye what I promised, Pardon.  Cardinal Whispers Massainello. Mass. 
I humbly thank your Excellence.  Here the Vicequeen and Ladies meet with Blowz. and her Company; a dumb Compliment passes between 'em. Aur. 
Come, we will go and see this Commick-Stuff,— if for nothing else but to divert the Spleen.  Bell. 
Nay, if 'tis possible to Laugh we shall certainly have occasion.  Fell. 
Bless us, what a Head she has, and how she jets about and smiles on the Prince there? Cardinal whispers Massainello.  Blowz. 
Madam, will your Highness— please to go;— Madam, the duchess's, I must have your Company too, and pray don't be too cogitabund: I suppose,— your Grace is concerned a little about these Jewels of yours that you 〈◊〉 me wear; but come, get out of your dumps,— Odsfish when you and I are better acquainted, such Trifles shall break no square●,— I have enough besides.  Bell. 
Oh Madam! I assure ye, my Thoughts were otherwise employed.  Blowz. 
Humh— what upon my Ball— I warrant,— why I'll promise ye, ye shall have curious Sport, your Highness shall laugh till you burst yourself.  Aur. 
Was there ever such a Monster?  Blowz. 
Come, pray therefore follow me, I think they told me 'twas Manners to go before her into my own House,— humh, well, I see Breeding increases in me wonderfully, and 'tis but reasonable: What, ● must do great things now?  Exeunt Vicequeen Blowz. and the rest. Mass. 
I am Schooled my Lord,— but when I see that Beauty, that charming Consort of the Man— I hate,— then— I rev●●● and wish him dead, nay, damned,— so I were,— But no more, she's gone and now I'm cool again,— And since I've given my word to treat 'em fairly, aid me Dissimulation— Great Mataloni and my Lord Caivano, t' excuse what I have done in right o'th' People, against your States and You, looks like Dissembling,— and to beg pardon, Fear: Yet I am sorry, sorry that you mistaking did such Wrongs, and that I e'er had Cause to to revenge 'em.  Mat. 
When of the Cause you are the only Judge, Sir, the rash Effects you cannot wonder at.  Caiu. 
Un-bridled Power seldom makes use of Reason, 'tis blind, and all its Actions are Precipitate, and in such Cases when the Mischief's done, 'tis little Satisfaction to be Sorry.  Mass. 
Nay, since y' are so sullen Lords, I'll change the Notion, I'm sorry now that I have used such Courtesy.  Mat. 
Wrongs have wide Mouths Sir.  Vice. 
Patience good my Lord.  Card. 
In this present Juncture you know not what you do.  Mat. 
I beg your Pardon,— and will withdraw for fear of farther Arguments, but tho' I'm now crushed by that Lernaean Hydra, an Hour may come,— when his Heartsblood shall pay for't.  Caiu. 
I'm gone my Lord, Heaven prosper your Intentions.  Ex. Mat. and Caiu. Mass. 
Furies and Fire, were not those two the Rankest of all the People's Enemies,— Farmers o'th' gabels, bloated and gorged with their abhorred Oppressions till I rose up to quell it; Death, not burn 'em, Gigantic,— Impudence, and how dares Mataloni, that lives but by my Leave?  Card. 
Pray Calm your Passion; 'tis Infirmity and want of Temper in the Choleric Duke that thus misguides his Reason: And now Son, since your Designs have gained a happy Period, I do conjure you by my sacred Office, to keep your Promise and lay down your Arms, so shall you gain a deathless Reputation, and future Saints shall Consecrate your Story.  Pedro. 
Ha, what says the canting Cardinal? Let's hear a little.  Vice. 
You shall have such Provision in retirement as your own Heart can wish—  Mass. 
I expect none, but am resolved, thou best of all the Priesthood, to follow thy Direction and Disband,— the Fortune I desire, is only this, my ●ate Fish-tackling— Rod and Hook and Line, in lieu of which I here give up my Sword.  Cosmo. 
O Lord, O Lord, we are utterly un-done if this hold.  Pedro. 
Sure he's distracted! Why Brother d'ye know what you say?  Miss. 
Most certainly, and what I mean too Brother.  Card. 
Remove, cast the Mist from thy dull Eyes, Friend, once see clearly.  Pedro. 
Nay, if y' are thereabouts— I've a Trick left to fetch him about yet: A Bottle Cosmo, a Bottle with something I'll infuse in't will do his Business I'm sure; come, we'el prepare for't instantly,— and snap him as he comes out. E. Pedro and Cosmo.  Mass. 
That dreadful Sword enured to Blood and Slaughter, that when I shook it made all Naples quake, Naples and her six hundred Thousand Souls shake like an O●●er,— rest in Peace for ever; and with my Power Farewell too these Trappings: Off ye vain Trifles,— off ye gaudy Throws away Hat and Peruke. nothings, let me appear as Man was first Created, before fantastic Forms debauched his Reason, and th' Body's clothing vitiated the Soul; off, off, I say.  Vice. 
Nay, now your Zeal's too Eager, let me entreat your Patience at this time.  Card. 
'Tis decent, there are many Eyes upon ye that may mistake this forward Zeal for Frenzy.  Mass. 
I'm obedient, yet I would do something to show I bid my Farewell to Dignity freely and with some warmth,— To morrow Noon shall see it all performed.  Card. 
My Blessing on thee.  Vice. 
My perpetual Favour.  Mass. 
Thus shall my Fame resound in future Story.  
And Babes un-born sing Massainello's Glory. Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  A Banquet, and Aurelia, Belleraiza, Fellicia, Blowzabella, Ursula, Bissignano, Cosmo, Pedro and others, Pimpwell and La Poope waiting, the rest all seated, Blowzabella rises. Blowz. 
Ricardo.  Pimp. 
Madam.  Blowz. 
Did you bid the Wench take Care that she provided Sugar and Cinnamon enough for the Pancakes— and that she should fry 'em in Oil instead of Butter?  Pimp. 
Yes Madam, and that it should be the Sugar of Eightpences the Pound, that your Ladyship reserves for high holidays, and the best Company.  Blowz. 
'Tis well Ricky, 'tis very well done: Mind your Business d'ye hear and stick close to me, and I'll speak to my Husband to get ye the Government you spoke to me about,— Well, and did you order the Leg of Pork and Potatoes to be sent her highness's Gentlemen, for a second Course?  Pimp. 
Yes Madam, and that the Ten-shilling Beer should be Tapped for 'em and given about in Sack-glasses, that it might look the Genteeler.  Blowz. 
That's well again, mighty well introth Ricky:— And are the Morris, Ropedancers and Tumblers all ready for the Ball, ha!  Pimp. 
All, all, Madam, the Fiddlers too, and the t'other Fellow says, he can Bate his Bulls and Bears, and if you please the Tiger at a Minute's warning.  Blowz. 
Can he? Well, Odsfish I love that Sport at my Heart: Besides 'twill draw all the Great Statesmen here,— they'll neglect the carrying on their great Cause to Day, to see that I'm sure,— but harken, a word in thy Ear. Whispers.  Aur. 
Was there ever such a Supper! The very sight of that huge Conger-Eel there makes me sick.  Biss. 
'Tis Alamode the Fishwife, Madam,— Ha, ha, ha, your Highness sees she treats in her own fashion.  Bell. 
The Musical Entertainment, I warrant will be a Curiosity.  Fell. 
Methinks her Gentleman Usher there, who is so familiar with her, should lead her up a Dance.  Blowz. 
Now will I whisper with this young Fellow to try if I can make the Prince Jealous,— for I'm told, nothing increases Love like Jealousy.— Well Ricky, and as to this Government thou wert speaking of,— must I speak for thee, hast a mind to be a Don, Ricky?  Pimp. 
Yes, indeed Madam, to speak the Truth, I've had a huge mind to be a Don— a great while.  Blowz. 
Well, say no more, thou shalt be a Don— the General shall do it out of hand:— What, there must be a Patent for't I suppose, and thou know'st his way of doing that.  Pimp. 
Yes, Madam, a Tweak by the Ear, it seems, is his Order of Counsel, and a Kick o'th' Breech, his way of passing a Patent.  Blowz. 
Right, thou hast it,— therefore stick close to me, d''ee hear, and it shall be done out of hand,— I'll have thee kicked on the first opportunity.  Pimp. 
Ah thank your good Ladyship.— A Don, Oh how I'll strutt!  Biss. 
My Hostess' mannerly way of leaving the Company all this while, is somewhat Novel too, Madam.  Aur. 
She designs to treat us with Variety; Oh now we shall have her again.  Blowz. 
So— does your Highness eat; Odsfish you have a very Piddling Stomach— why that Codshead will be cold there,— Ah you'd have done better by half, Madam, if you had taken a Whett as I did before hand.  Aur. 
A Whett, what's that I beseech ye?  Blowz. 
Why a good Brimmer of sharpening liquour to prepare your Stomach,— and by your Eating so little I find yours to be very cold,— Will your Highness accept of a Beer-glass of Nants?  Aur. 
Nants,— well I am horrible unskilled in this new Dialect of yours, and so ignorant that I must desire to know what that is too.  Blowz. 
Odsfish— not know what Nants is— a Lady of your Breeding, and ignorant of heavenly Brandy! Odsfish than Miracles are not ceased.  Biss. 
Ah, this is not a Lady of your strain, Madam, this is the Vicequeen.  Blowz. 
Why if she were an Empress, my Lord, she might know and taste a Cup of good Nants, I hope, and her Title shrink ne'er a Jot the more in the wetting, neither,— But come let's turn the Discourse to hear the Music, and see the Ball, your Highness shall see how you like our way.— Come begin there.  Here follows a Comical Entertainment of Mimicking Dancing at a Ball with Clowns, Morris-dancers and Tumblers mixed, and several Humourous Songs and Dialogues, which Ended, Aurelia, Bissignano, and Ladies rise. 

A Dialogue between a Town-Sharper and his Hostess.  Sharp. 
WHilst wretched Fools sneak up and down,  
Play hid and seek about the Town;  
Depressed by Debts, and Fortune's frown,  
By Duns too kept in awe:  
Whenever my Occasions call,  
And 'mongst my Creditor's I fall,  
I've one fine Song that Pays 'em all;  
Fa lafoy,— la.  Host. 
Good morrow Sir, I'm glad to see  
Your Humour is so brisk and free,  
I hope the better 'tis for me.  
If you your Purse will draw:  
you've been two Years at Bed and Board,  
And I, Lord help me, took your Word,  
But now must have what here is Scored,  
For all your Fa, la la— la.  Sharp. 
My Purse, sweet Hostess, is but lank,  
But I have something else in bank;  
And you at home I'll kindly thank,  
With charming sweet Sol fa.  
We'll, sit and Chant from Morn to Noon,  
No Nightingale in May or June;  
Did ever Sing so fine a Tune,  
As fa, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, etc.  Host. 
You take me for an Idiot sure,  
Will this fine Tune my debt secure;  
Or pay my Baker or my Brewer,  
Or keep me from the Law,  
To buy your Shirts there's Money lent,  
Besides in Meat and Drink more spent;  
And can you think I pay my Rent,  
With fa, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, etc.  Sharp. 
I'll teach thee such a pretty Song  
Shall please both Rich, Poor, Old, and Young;  
Get thee a Husband Stout and Strong,  
Some Country Rich jack-daw;  
Nay more I'll bring to quit my Scores,  
A crew of Toping Sons of Whores;  
Shall Drink all Night and Charm the Hours,  
With fa, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, etc.  Host. 
Ye cunning Rogue this wheedling Talk,  
You fancy will rub out my Chalk;  
But I your sly design will balk,  
When you to jail I draw;  
Your boasted Song's a foolish thing,  
For do but you the Money bring,  
You'll find I can already sing,  
Fa, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, lafoy, etc.  Sharp. 
Well since Dame Fortune is my Foe,  
And that I must to Prison go,  
Let's have a Neat Frisk or so,  
And then Rub on the Law.  Host. 
Well since you're on a merry Pin,  
And make so slight the Counter-Gin,  
I'll do't, and let the Tune begin  
With Fa, lafoy, lafoy, etc.  Sharp. 
Has not my Dance ill Humour charmed?  Ho. 
I must confess my Blood is warmed.  
And heart I hope by love alarmed.  Sharp. 
To laugh, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Host. 
You think you've catched me, now I smile,  Sharp. 
No that I'll do at Night dear child.  Host. 
Well I'll the Bailiffs stop a while  
To try your Fa lafoy, etc.  Enter a Chimney-Sweeper's Boy and Sings. Boy. 
SWeep, sweep, sweep,  
My Lord and Madam sleep,  
Whilst I i'th' Chimney creep,  
And sweep, sweep, sweep.  
He nimbly clumb up to the top,  
Without a Ladder or a Rope,  
And sweep, sweep, sweep,  
Who calls the Chimney-sweep?  Enter a Cookmaid with a Ladle Yawning. Cook. 
Heigh ho, Heigh ho, Heigh ho,  
Ye bawling Brat what's here to do?  
With this your Sooty Devil's trad●,  
If with this squalling noise you make,  
My Lord and Lady chance to wake,  
I vow I'll break your head.  Boy. 
Oh! Sicily, why so full of wrath?  
You know I only mean,  
To sweep the Chimney clean,  
Lest Soot should fall and spoil the Broth.  Cook. 
You Youngsters have another way to deal,  
Pretend to sweep, but come indeed to steal.  Boy. 
Nay now my Honours touched and soon,  
I'll make you sing another Tune.  Cook. 
Come, Sirrah, come I've lately lost a spoon.  Boy. 
Can no one be the thief but I?  
you've found me still an honest Boy;  
You know I've kept your counsel too,  
And never hinted farther,  
What in the Kitchen Larder,  
I once saw you and John the Coachman do?  Cook. 
Ye little Rogue, how did you dare,  
To peep on such a grand affair?  Boy. 
I saw it and will tell it too,  
The Garters you had on were blue;  
I'll publish every thing was done,  
Because you tax me with your Spoon.  Cook. 
I did but jest, come let's be friends,  
I'll fetch thee what shall make amends.  Exit Cook Boy. 
Sweep, sweep, sweep,  
I saw the Coachman creep.  
Into the Stable dark and deep,  
When I by chance did peep.  Enter Cookmaid with a great Piece of Bread and Butter. Cook. 
No more of that upon your life,  
We are contracted Man and Wife;  
And what you then did chance to see,  
Was all inth' way of honesty:  
We've given our Words and both shook hands,  
And that's as firm as Marriage bands.  Boy. 
Get me my Breakfast to my wish,  
With no more Spoons thrown in my Dish;  
Again upon a Truss of Hay,  
You both may in the Stable play;  
And I that peep, and sweep and peep,  
And sweep, and peep, will nothing say.  Cook. 
I'll feed thee till I cloy,  
My pretty, pretty Boy;  
Thou shalt thy Breakfast have each morn.  Boy. 
And you all night shall have your joy.  Chorus. 
Thou shalt, etc.   
Well, what thinks your Highness, is not this Novel as you call it?  Aur. 
'Tis so Extraordinary that I want words to praise it, and therefore intent to retire and make that the Product of a second thought: Come, my Lord.  Bell. 
Had the Times been settled, I could have laughed at the Extravagance of it well enough.  well. 
And— I—'tis well enough to see once.  Exeunt Biss. Vicequeen and Ladies. Enter a Servant, whispers Blowzabella. Blowz. 
Lights— there— for her Highness.— The General speak with me in the Morning, sayst thou; Well, tell him I'll come.— Now Ricky, stick close to me, thou shalt go too: 
And if I raise thee to a Prince's fellow,  
Thy Hat thrown up cry Viva Blowzabella.     

ACT III.  

SCEN. I.  Enter Massainello in his Fisherman's Habit, and Pimpwell dressed in the same manner, the first bearing a Rod and Fishing-Basket. Mass. 
MY Wife so angry, sayst thou?  Pimp. 
Angry, Oh that ever I was born,— Why d''ee think, Sir, she can be pleased? You may Metamorphose me into what shape you think fit, you may flay me as you do one of your Eels,— and then instead of the Robe of a Lord, put the Shell of a Lobster upon me— as your Fishiness shall see good to determine,— but to think that the high spirited Blowzabella,— will shrink from a Crab to a Craw-fish, and leave a silken Gown with a Gold galoon for a Grogram Jacket with a Copper Edging, is but vain Imagination— I can tell ye but that, Sir.  Mass. 
My Brother then I hear too grumbles at it,— But when I give my reasons, I don't doubt.—  Pimp. 
Oh bless me! Reasons!— Reason's to lay by a Noble Habit which made ye fit to accompany Kings and Princes— and put on a damned dirty Doublet here,— which makes you and myself too, woe be the time, look as if we were fit for nothing but a Dog-Kennel.— Zooks do but look upon yourself a little, Sir,— do but view your Person round— Odds Sammon and Eels, and Thornback!— Is this the Mighty Man, I saw yesterday— Is this Massainello?  Mass. 
Well, well, this Deed will settle my Renown for ever, and I have consulted my Reason about it.  Pimp. 
Reason again,— Reason, to lay by a Glittering Sword that made ye look like a General, to take up a confounded Switches there to make just the figure of a sneaking Gudgeon-catcher in a Landschap, to leave the Command of all th' Coffers in Naple's Gold, Silver, Jewels, and th' Devils and all— to plunder a little tyny dribbling Brook for a few Roches and Dace— Gadsdiggers if this be Reason!—  Mass. 
Well, well, no more of your Disputes, Sir.  Pimp. 
Mum— I ha' done— but there's his Brother, and some of his Mettled Comerades drinking in the next room, that will tell him a piece of their minds presently.— Oh here he comes, and the hot-headed Cosmo with him— if they can get but to fluster him with a Brimmer or two, as they have prepared it,— the Cause is our own still.— Apart.  Enter Pedro and Cosmo. Mass. 
So Brother▪— still with your sluttering Trinkets on? What you dislike my resolution of laying down I hear.  Ped. 
And reason good,— what Spirit of sloth has seized on ye the sudden, to ruin yourself and us, and all our hopes?  Cosm. 
'Tis that Priest's doings, that same long tongued Cardinal, that Reverend Hypocrite, has debauched the General.  Mass. 
Cousin, you have a Privilege, else I ●us● tell ye, I should not bear this Language.  Cosm. 
Not from a Friend whose Heart as well 〈…〉 acts but to serve ye,— Come, come, you must, 〈…〉 ye, you are imposed upon, flattered, betrayed, the Cardinal with Inveterate Mataloni,— and old Caivano— brood in hourly Counsels how to destroy ye.  Mass. 
Ha, that again.—  Ped. 
He says the Cardinal with your Enemy's Plot to destroy ye, which, they're to execute that very hour you cease Command; there's one revolted from 'em within, that was their Servant, who ha● confessed it all; besides, you might note if you remember well, at our last meeting some weighty thing hung on 'em,— by their rough looks, and surly answers— to ye.  Mass. 
They were indeed more dogged than was usual.  Cosm. 
'Twas from their hopes to snap ye unguarded and unfriended, and if you will deliver up your Throat.—  Mass. 
No, Cousin, not so neither.  Ped. 
If you will from the Commander of all Naples— Its power too in your hands,— accept their Charity, and stand to the courtesy of Mataloni.  Cosm. 
Your known vowed Enemy— who burns with Expectation of your disbanding, that he then may cope ye,— when I your faithful Kinsman and your Friend— can balk his Plots, and put it in your power so to revenge yourself— you have forgot the Duchess.  Mass. 
Forgot her, the Taper was newly extinct indeed, but yet thy Breath revives it.  Pimp. 
This is my Province, now I'll put in a word: The Duchess, Sir, sweet as a full blown Rose in Summer Mornings,— e'er gentle Breezes had blown off the Pearls, the Dew had sprinkled on it; then a Skin, smooth, soft, and whiter than the Purest Ermine, and such a shape so charming and provoking— 'twould make a God of him that did enjoy her.  Mass. 
Prithee no more, she's gone.  Cosm. 
Gone, no, Sir, not from my reach— I know her haunts, and how to snap her hourly; nay the whole Covey of them, I've marked my Game, and they are mine at will.—  Ped. 
Such a revenge now on Mataloni's Treachery were worth the General's notice.—  Mass. 
Oh how my Blood boils with Revenge and Love.  Cosm. 
Give me your hand,— and now believe I honour ye,— I know you love the Duchess too, and ye shall have her,— revoke your Orders for laying down Arms till things are settled more,— and if within this hour I bring ye not the Duchess, and her Niece to Court your favour,— hold me a Rogue and Liar.—  Mass. 
Thou amazest me!  Pimp. 
Oh here's the Female Teizer▪ Come, now 'twill work rarely.  Enter Blowzabella Weeping, and La Poope: Another carrying her Fine Gown and Head. Blowz. 
D''ee hear, you French Kickshaw, Diable La Poope, don't tell me of his Order, to have me stripped; but carry back those dirty things again, or my Fist shall pound thee into Powder,— What Maggots in your Head now, in the name of Beelzebub, to dub me to be a Lady, and think to undub me again at a Minute's warning? Oh I could cry my Eyes out to think * Sobs and Cries., to think * Sobs and Cries., that ever I should have a Husband that should be such a Fool!— Huswife, away with the Rags, I say, or I will so Mawl your French Carcase. Throws the Clothes at her Head.  L. Poop. 
hay day! wa● a Deevil is de matra! He commande one ting, and see command on oder ting!— de Deevil take dem both. Exit.  Enter Ursula. Pimp. 
Here comes another of the Litter, the Kennel is roused rarely.  Ursul. 
Why sure this News is not true that I hear: Odslidikins, what do I see, what is he got into his sneaking, lousy, nasty Fisherman's Garb again!— Why Brother,— Brother, odd I'm ashamed to call him so now, harkee, do you ever think.—  Blowz. 
Sir, can you ever think. Both Bawl loudly.  Mass. 
Buzz— I shall be worried.  Ped. 
Come, come, no more Spouse, he will consider.  Cosm. 
Come, Cousin, pray step in with us and take a Glass or two, amongst some Friends of ours there, you will find the Servant of the Dukes, hear but his Story, no doubt you will be satisfied.  Mass. 
Well, I will hear him, but sure it can't be true.  Cosm. 
As true as you shall have the Duchess here herself within this hour perhaps— the Duke too— will you believe me then?  Mass. 
Oh jove for her I'd do or believe any thing.  Exit with Blowzabella and Ursula▪ Pedro. 
So he's wrought rarely,— three or four full Brimmers, I know will fluster him, so he'll quickly forget all his past Promises: But will this Fellow that we have hired, stand fast and swear without a Blush?  Cosm. 
A Blush! Prithee, he was bred a Lawyer, he knows not what it is: Go, go, away to the Company,— and be sure you drink him to a pitch; this is my time to make a Rape on the others.— Ha— from this Window I can see the Garden, where every day they take their Evenings Walks,— and see by Heaven they're yonder, the Vicequeen too,— this is a Prize indeed, and I that always loved with Ambition, will push my Fortune now,— Are the Soldiers ready?  Pedro. 
All Armed at the Castle-Gate.  Cosm. 
Farewell,— wish me good Luck then. Exit. Cosmo.  Pedro. 
That I will for my own sake,— how have I fired this wild hot-headed Fool, to seize the Vicequeen, and bring me her Niece,— that sweet and tender Bud of Blooming Beauty, 
Must by my heat be made full blown to night,  
My beating Pulse tells me I'm near delight.  Exit.   

SCENE II.  Enter Aurelia, Belleraiza, Fellicia, Mataloni, and Caivano. Aurel. 
This Pleasant Walk so near the Rebel's Garrison; curse on the Coward Fates, we durst not use, till late, the Truce was made, which when I think on, tho' the Place be happy, and the Sweets of Nature abound here in their Pride, Clear Fountains, Flowers of Excellent Natures in Arbours twined, and Sun de●ying Coverts, tho' all that can delight the sense dwell here, yet that disgrace makes it ungrateful to me.  Mat. 
The Ills of Fate, Madam, are no Disgraces, but trials of the virtue of Great Souls; had famed Aurelia ne'er opposed the Darts of Traitorous Fortune, her Renown had lessened, 
Her life's swift Sands had then unnoted run,  
Whose Glory now shines brighter than the Sun.   Bell. 
Great Souls that so are tried, aught to get Fame, for sure they feel Fate's worst Serenity; for what can be more sharp than for Nobility— untainted Honour, and unconquered Courage, to stoop perforce to gross Plebeian humour, and yield to their Commands whom they despise?  Aur. 
That would I never do whilst I had life, no with these Hands I would tear out this Tongue, rather than let it give a vile Consent to what my Honour told me was Ignoble, or should my Eyes give a relenting Glance, and seem by base fear to betray my Virtue, fired with just Anger I should root 'em thence, and cast the false Misguiders on the Floor.  Fell. 
She talks and thinks to do as she has said,  
So I think too were I a Captive made;  
At least I tell her that I could death de●ye,  
Yet Life's so sweet, I am afraid I lie. Aside.  Aur. 
Did my Lord tell you he would meet us here?  Caiu. 
Madam, he did, as soon as the Affairs were finished at the Council: They expect this Evening a Resignation under Hand and Seal, of Massainello's Power, and a full Order for the Disbanding of the Rabble.  Aur. 
I fear he trusts too much, would he were come. In the mean time, my dear Fellicia, let's see that Sarabrand I love so well.  They Dance here: Then Enter Rushing in Cosmo, Pedro, and Soldiers: Mataloni, and Caivano, make some Resistance, but are overpowered and taken with Belleraiza and Fellicia. Mat. 
What Friends are you that in the time of Truce dare violate th' late Order by this Outrage?  Pedro. 
Such, Sir, as have so little sense of Order, that we are never pleased more than to break it.— Come my young Rose you must prepare for th' Limbeck. To Fellicia.  Cosm. 
And you Majestic Beauty— for a Love so mingled with Ambition, your own Soul has not a greater sense on't.  Aur. 
What mean the Villains— Oh— that a Thunderbolt.—  Cosm. 
Oh that a Thunderbolt—  
Would fall and clear the Black and Cloudy Air,  
Then we should see the Wether would be fair.  Fell. 
Oh, tho' you kill me, do not hurt my Father,— he's old and weak, pray pull him not so hard.  Pedro. 
For your sake, pretty one, we'll use him Civilly.— Come, come, Old Sir, there's no resisting. To Caivano.  Caiu. 
Not one Blow to revenge me!  Cosm. 
Bear off the Ladies down to the Felluca, and bid the Rowers bring it to the Shore.  Aur. 
Away ye Slaves, off ye vile Clods of Earth: Ha, dare ye touch me? Then Aid ye Powers above,— send down your darting Flames ye Elements, blast these vile Wretches with your quickest fires: 
Let fiercest Vengeance Ravishers pursue;  
Burn 'em, Oh Burn 'em, tho' you Burn me too.   They are forced off. Enter Viceroy and Cardinal. Vice. 
The Echoing sound that wasted through the Trees to me seemed like the Cry of Women.  Card. 
I could not hear distinctly, but must wonder, the Ladies are not here,— this is the place. Page creeps out of a Bush.  Page. 
Oh my Lord, I have the saddest News to tell your Highness, that ever Tongue yet uttered:— The Vicequeen and the Ladies, accompanied with the Duke's Mataloni and Caivano, as they were walking here to take the Air, were seized on by a Rout of Ruffians; and notwithstanding all Resistance, and the Cries the Ladies made, no Guards of yours being ne'er, are forc'd away by Water. Viceroy hangs down his Head.  Card. 
Didst thou know any of 'em?  Page. 
Not by their Faces: But know they came from the Mobb-General's Quarter,— their Number, Looks, and Actions so frighted me, I crept into a Bush to hide me from 'em.  Vice. 
Ye Powers that Govern Human Fates below— end my cursed days, this is too much to bear.  Card. 
I have not words enough to comfort him, my Reason's at a loss with this distress, and all Philosophy would work in vain.  Vice. 
Are all the Stars our foes! Oh cruel Fate, are all thy Darts devoted to Rebellion!— And thou the Genius of the wronged Nobility, that for a Series of Revolving years, didst Guard the Honour of our Ancestors,— where art thou now! Oh why dost thou desert us?  Card. 
But above all, the Guardian of our Naples,— Divine Genaro, our August Protector,— from thy bright Palace built on Plains of Light, accompanied with dazzling Seraphims, and Heavenborn Angels, who sing Hymns of Joy in Visionary Dreams, to sleeping Mortals, with Mediating Grace, gain Mercy for us, and turn these dire Afflictions into Comfort.  Here the Clouds open, and an Apparition of St. Genaro is seen, with his Sword drawn: He Sings this Song of Comfort, and then disappears. 

The SONG.  
WEep no more, no longer sigh and groan,  
All Heaven's angry Darts are thrown.  
A Sacred Council late was held Above,  
Blessed with the Presence of Almighty Jove;  
Where Pardon's Sealed, Peace does your joys Restore,  
And dire Rebellions now shall Rage no more.  
See how the Clouds give way,  
And Dazzling Atoms Play,  
In Consorts Shining Day:  
To drive your Cares away.  
The great Disposer of all Things,  
To Pardon does Incline:  
And now to form Disorders brings,  
Who late made Peasants tread on Kings,  
To show his Power Divine.   Vice. 
Blessed Apparition, saw ye ought, my Lord?  Card. 
Most certainly, through opening Clouds appeared the Glorious Saint with Visage full of Joy,— as a blessed Omen of our future comfort; methought the Spheres too joined in Sacred Harmony, and a Celestial Voice with Charming power, piercing my Ears, made all my Senses happy.— A Sword drawn too!  Vice. 
There was, I saw it clearly,— which seems to instruct us to use ours once more, and trust no longer to the fluttering humour, the vain Proposals, or unminded Promises of this vile whimsical and perjured Rebel.  Card. 
It must be so, therefore proceed, my lord— And with unwearied Zeal I still will serve ye,— for since this last, this Brutal violence too well assures us of his Breach of Vows, and that the Witchcraft of his dazzling Power, too far Enchants him to lay down in quiet: Let us resolve to make a Push for all;— I lately sought, 'tis true, to reconcile,— th' unnatural Jars, believing what was done by this bold Fellow was to Ease the People,— who were oppressed; and that he would disband, as he once swore— when that was done; but now this Villainy has opened my Eyes to see,— 'tis a Rebellious Itch to quell the Nobles, and set up his base Ignominious self, as Viceroy, and turn us to a hated Commonwealth.  Vice. 
'Tis so, my Lord, 'tis plain, that's his Ambition.  Card. 
It shall be crushed— like his vile self to earth, never to rise again;— Now you shall see the different Fate between th'inspired Nobleses, and the Grovelling Vulgar, and the base mettle of this new Coined upstart, the Guilding worn away of his Hypocrisy: Arm then my Lord, and so let all the Court, who with this Vision of the blessed Gennaro, and my own Reasons, I'll so Influence, Honour in Naples shall exert its Grandeur, and th' Rabble once more know their Slavish distance.  Vice. 
Oh how thy Sacred Words inflame my Courage, thou precious Gem, amongst a Crowd of Pebbles, best of thy Function, let me but revenge.—  Card. 
Revenge, why that shall be the dear twin-word;— Joined with fair Justice, to begin the work;— be but your Highness patient, and bear your Losses, as becomes your Place, let my Prophetic Brain give you this Comfort: 
The hour comes on when the vile Herd shall Groan  
Beneath the wonted Yoke, and dread the Nobles Frown.   Exeunt.  

SCENE III.  Enter Massainello Flustered, Dressed again in his Rich Clothes, Pedro half Drunk too, and Pimpwell Combing his Peruke, Pedro with a Sword in his Hand. Pedro. 
Now, Brother, you show like yourself.  Pimp. 
Show▪— Oh happy hour,— show, S'bud he looks like Alexander the Great,— I mean like Pompey,— I mean like julius Caesar,— I mean like Hannibal,— I mean, I mean, like himself,— and that's a thousand times better than any of 'em;— Oh rare, rare Sight! ' odd I could even hang myself for Joy.  Mass. 
I'll teach 'em how to Plot: Give me my Hat and Feather.  Pimp. 
There, there, my Lord, there's the purest Pulvillio in't, and the most exquisite Essence of Amber,— 'twill make the Women follow ye in Shoals.  Pedro. 
And this shall make the Mataloni Faction,— and th' Caivano's shake * Gives him a Sword., whilst all the rest of th' Court study new ways of Poor Submissions.  Mass. 
Oh thou bright Raiser of my Towering Glory, thou hast been wanting to my hand too long; thou that wert wont to hew my way to Greatness, and through opposing Crowds, make Lanes before me, how shall I make amends, and flesh thee first?  Pedro. 
Two Kinsmen to the Viceroy were this Morning taken dispersing Libels,— and Encouraging the Spaniards to a Mutiny.  Mass. 
Let 'em be brought this Evening to the Marketplace, and there on them I'll try the Temper of my Weapon,— and take their Heads off with this Blade myself.  Pimp. 
It shall be done, my Lord:— Odzookers, he has it, now the Medaera works.  Pedro. 
How now, what's this!— what my dear Cosmo!— So soon returned!— Shout Within.  Enter Cosmo. Mass. 
Well, what success, my brave Adventurer?  Cosm. 
What I could wish: I have 'em all in th' Net, Sir, the Dukes, the Ladies, and the haughty Vicequeen to boot; and now I hope you'll think your Kinsman loves ye:— You may seize the Duchess, now Sir, she's your Quary.  Miss. 
Thou Soul of my Contentment, best of Kinsmen * Embraces Him.: Oh how I burn within me,— my Brainpan Glows, and my Heart's all on fire.— Hot, Sultry, sultry.  Pedro. 
And we'll take care to keep ye so.— The Wine has played its part, I see. Aside.  Pimp. 
There never was any good to be done with drinking Small-beer,— but now you see strong stout Medaera can do Wonders:— Odshertslikins 'thas turned him inside out, and made quite another Man of him.  Mass. 
Come, Cousin, shall we not see your Prize?  Cosm. 
Bring in the Prisoners there.  Enter Pedro bringing Vicequeen, Mataloni, Caivano, Belleraiza and Fellicia,— Guards. Mass. 
You may remember, when I met you last, I showed some taste of Courtesy,— now proud Dons— should you both Grovel at my Feet, and beg for't, I would with scorn refuse and spurn ye from me.  Caiu. 
Spurn your Companions, base and perjured Monster.-  Mat. 
Thy sordid Villainy can't touch our Souls,— those are above an abject Rebel's reach.  Mass. 
Abject, thou wretched Piece of fluttering Folly, thou gay Court-Butterfly, that I can squeeze to nothing with my Fingers; thou art abject, for what is that but to be still subservient to a Superior Power, Slave to the Will of him that Commands, and such art thou to me.  Mat. 
No, thou art Slave to me, for I contemn thee;— my Soul disdains to breathe its Vital Air, where thy Infection comes, and scorns to answer, or change a word more, to save my Life.  Mass. 
Be sullen then, I'll Parley with your— Wife, Sir,— Madam, your Husband's Choler as 'tis vain, so 'tis To Bell. ridiculous; but you, I hope, know how to reconcile;  
I have few words, but you may Guess my meaning. Kisses her Hand.  Bell. 
' Thomas I had rather die, yet for some Reasons I must permit him.  Mat. 
Furies and Fire, must I live and see this!  Aur. 
She stands so coldly, and not spit in's Face.  Mass. 
Oh, Madam, I have heard of your Great Spirit,— and mean to Conjure it. A word with you anon. For th' present, Duke, know you may thank your Lady, for what no Power on Earth but this her Courtesy— could e'er have gained, which is a Licence from me— to take your Leave of her.— Go, Captain, bear 'em both to Prison, and when I send this Ring— bring me the Lady.  Cosm. 
'Tis done, my lord Exit Cosm. with Matal. and Bell.  Pimp. 
Ay, ay, 'tis done, my Lord,— any thing in the world, Egad, now things go so rarely.  Mass. 
Let that Old Signior be confined particularly:— I hear he's good at Plotting.  Fell. 
Ah let me go with my Father, I beseech ye:— Look in my Face, believe I am no Plotter,— I know not what is wrong, much less can do it.  Pedro. 
So much the better, you can do something else that is as sitting for ye, you are my Charge,— you sha'not want your Father.  Pimp. 
Ah happy Miss, the Major will take a great deal of Care of ye, therefore doubt— be a Child, don't cry, the Major will take a huge deal of Care of ye. Pedro Carries Her out.  Fell. 
Oh Father, Aunt, Oh Heaven help, help, help. Ped. carries her out.  Caiu. 
This Blow must reach my heart; Fate thou hast done thy worst. Exit Caivano.  Pimp. 
Come, come, old Gentleman, I'll see you fast enough,— now will there come fifty Ducats at least for a good Lodging; rare, rare times, rare.  Aur. 
Death and Confusion! Can the Sun yet shine,— such Villainies as these, methinks, should darken it, blot out all Nature, and return— old Chaos— into its Primitive nothing.— Oh may all Curses.— Mass. and Aur. walk Angrily up and down the Stage.  Mass. 
Curse on, curse on, a Woman when she Curses, makes still a Blessing follow.  Aur. 
Why am I left, thou Devil?  Mass. 
For the Devil!— for I intent thou shalt Blaspheme so much that he shall fetch thee Headlong.  Aur. 
What! and thou stand by, thy Gory Paws reeking in Blood of Nobles. Is there a Morsel through all the Shambles of Damned Reprobates, so proper for his Diet as thyself, thou that from Infancy wert Hell's half-blood, and since still Trained ' amongst the Infernal Brood? 
To Beelzebub himself of Kin so near,  
Thou'lt hardly change thy Nature, when thou'rt there.   Mass. 
I choose an ill one because early taught  
A Man's good Nature makes— a Woman naught:  
Copying their Mischiefs, I my own pursue,  
And th' nearer to a Devil, the nearer you.  Aur. 
Thou art as near it as the thing will bear:  
Search Hell, a Rebel is the greatest there.  
But thus to play the Dilatory Fiend, to Tease me all this while with thy cursed Figure, and not bring forth the Rack, the Wheel, the Torture, Poison or Sword, to ease me from thyself, the worst and most infective Plague of all, is the cursed Quintessence of Cruelty, and I grow Mad with my Despair.  Mass. 
'Tis reasonable; I am Mad too, and so are all my People; the Times are Mad, we should be in the fashion: But now I think on't, I will ask a Question, and if your Rage can stop, answer me: Were I your Prisoner as you now are mine, How would you use me?  Aur. 
I must answer, calmly.  Mass. 
As your fierce Nature will permit.  Aur. 
Thus then, as calmly as the Seas wild Surges Speaks Raging. Roar, when Stormy Winds oppose 'em, I would kill thee: To ask a Woman choking for Revenge, how she would use her most Inveterate Enemy!— Impertinent Fool, why I would kill thy Soul, if I could reach it too; but for thy Body, it should be burnt with Pincers, thy Heart cut out, and after torn in Pieces with Wild Horses, till there was not the bigness of a Finger to show the Pattern of a Horrid Villain: 
But trod and mashed o'er all the odious frame,—  
And Pounded to the Dunghill whence it came.  There's calmly for ye.— Now what's my Doom?  Mass. 
Your Liberty:— What neither Fawning, Prayers nor Tears could purchase; this frank Confession has obtained,— you're free; Conduct her through the Guards to th' Viceroy's Castle,— I do't to show ye, I fear Threats so little, that I dare all your Power to defeat me; and now resolve I will maintain my own, because I think it becomes me.  Aur. 
So, Sir,— and tho' I have my Life on these conditions, yet I will take it to contrive thy Ruin; which like a Sibyl I do Prophecy shall be performed as late I mention'd it.  Mass. 
If our Blessed Stars kind Influence afford.  
I'll Court no Stars or Planets,— but my Sword.  Exeunt Severally.   

ACT IU.  

SCEN. I.  Mataloni and Belleraiza, in Prison. Bell. 
ONE Minute more, and then the Fatal Message Tolls our sad Separation. Sure two Hearts fast joined by Love, and framed for one another, ne'er felt a weighty violence like ours. Indifference gains its point and has its ease; the Days and Nights are worn away in Pleasures; but to be passionate in Love is deadly; Dire Fate resolves, grown envious of our Bliss, to rob us of the Paradise of each other.  Mat. 
Yet this were nothing could we die together; could our winged Spirits like two friendly Turtles fly to the Mansions of the Blessed above, and there together coo our Mutual Love:— Who would not leave this Tottering Tenement, this Hovel Life with Joy,— to change so Richly?  Bell. 
Nay, we must die together, my dear Lord; our Lives are one, and when yours ceases Action, you may assure yourself mine is no more.  Mat. 
But I alas! am doomed to Death more cruel than what tormentors give the common way, to leave thee here to bear their Barbarous Usage; leave the dear Beauty which once blessed my Life with Raptures of true Pleasure, to be sullied, Grasped and profaned by Insolent Brutality; and tho' I know thy Virtue ne'er will yield, 'tis double death to think on thy distress.  Bell. 
Yield, no, no, I hope my Dearest is confirmed in that; nor had I suffered late that nauseous Rebel to touch my Hand, but for your sake, my Lord: I knew my Face had charmed his Brutal Soul, and that by softening his Barbarity, I could get means thus to enjoy your Company, which else had been impossible.  Mat. 
I know it, and thank thee for this Blessing Embraces Her. it procured me: Besides, I've had more favour from the Monster;— a Servant of my own allotted me to do my private business, and such a business;— I've employed him in, Oh Belleraiza!  Bell. 
Speak out, my Lord; in Belleraiza's Bosom all Secrets are secure.  Mat. 
Canst thou endure the odious Infamy, that I should turn base Pander?  Bell. 
I hate a Pander.  Mat. 
That, that's the meaning of this Upstart's kindness, believing I'll promote his Bestial Love to my dear Belleraiza.  Bell. 
Horrid Wretch! cursed Hellhound!  Mat. 
Now if I find the means, though't be by death to free us both from this Extreme of Misery ', will my sweet Love consent?  Bell. 
With better will, than ever miserable condemned Captive, accepted freedom. Enter Servant with Dagger.  Mat. 
See, the trial comes.  
So, hast thou succeeded well?  Seru. 
I have, my Lord,— tho' with some little hazard of my Life, being searched by the Outguards,— but naming the Duchess, they discharged me presently,— and there's the effects of your Commands.  Mat. 
'Tis well done,— withdraw a while:— Exit Servant. See here my Love, this was the business meant, to buy this Dagger: Canst thou not guests the use on't?  Bell. 
I do, and thus make bare my Breast to meet it; let that dear hand but strike, I shall find Heaven before my Soul be ready.  Mat. 
It must be so, to leave thee here with Ruffians,— will to Eternity disturb my rest,— for I must die thou know'st; then if thou lov'st me, thou'lt love this kind tho' cruel Resolution, first to kill thee, and afterwards myself.  Bell. 
I do, and on thy Lips bless thee for ever.  Mat. 
Oh my Soul's happiness! They Embrace.  Enter Cosmo with a Ring. Cosmo. 
My Heart's so full of hopes t' enjoy Aurelia, and sat my strong desires with Princely Beauty, that I am tardy in my Office to bring the Duchess to the General. Here is his Ring, by which his Pleasure's known in all Affairs in Love as well as Power,— this is the fatal Circle that must part the Married Lovers,— and yonder see they are, 
Close Billing like two harmless Turtle Doves,  
Unweary still of their Connubial Loves.   Mat. 
We are disturbed; see yonder Glares the Meteor— that now portends our Ruin.  Bell. 
One moment longer, and we had both been happy.  Cosm. 
Madam, you know my Message by this Ring,— the General expects ye, pray make haste, for I have Business of my own so urgent, I can wait no delays.  Mat. 
Men in great Places must be full of Business; am not I sent for?  Cosm. 
No, no, my Lord, you are fixed in the wrong Station, the Wheel is turned, you are not now at Court.  Mat. 
And yet my Wife's sent for to Privy Council! What, what is her Business there?  Cosm. 
Why, with plain dealing, if you needs must know, her Business there is to make you a Cuckold.  Mat. 
I have a Message first to send.  Cosm. 
What's that?  Mat. 
You, to the Devil, Sir. Stabs Him.  Cosm. 
Oh I am Damned. Dies.  Mat. 
Start not, my Love, nor let thy Cheeks grow pale, but adore Providence for this happy Accident, that marks us out instead of Fate our Freedom;— here is the Ring that guides us through the Labyrinth, by whose Despotic Power we pass the Guards, and then instead of Death live ever happy.  Bell. 
Now I shall think there is a Joy for Lovers uncommon from the rest in sweet Elysium; 
This bliss unlooked for seems like Heaven's care,  
Which only those that love like us could share.   Mat. 
But first I must disguise me in his Habit: What, ho, Lorenzo!  Seru. 
What Service, my good Lord? Enter Lorenzo.  Mat. 
Drag in that Body,— and help me in a Business that is necessary.  Seru. 
With all my heart,— Oh are ye here Don Dogsface? You were a Rogue in Office, I am glad you're paid your wages.  Drags Him in▪ Mat. 
Happy Success thus! may we always prove.  Bell. 
Blessed be this day when Fortune favoured Love. Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Pedro and Fellicia. Pedro. 
Come, come, no more Evasions, no more Woman's Tricks, I thought you were too young for 'em; but to the Point, will you Love me without more stir or Preambles?  Fell. 
Good, Sir, have pity on me. Weeps.  Pedro. 
Pity, why I have Love for thee, I tell thee,— that is, I think 'tis Love, I'm sure I've a mind to thee,— therefore no more of these dissembling Tears— but buckle too without more trouble: Come, will you comply, I say?  Fell. 
Alas, to what, Sir?  Pedro. 
Humh— there's Womankind again now,— they always love to hear it named before they venture,— why to my will:— Come, come, you are not too young to understand the manner.  Fell. 
Indeed I am, Sir, Oh— pray don't look so cruelly upon me, I will do any thing I can to please ye, but for my Love, my good, my poor Old Father had it all, I ne'er Loved aught besides. Weeps.  Pedro. 
Nay look, if ye practise your Tricks upon me, I must begin the rough Game; I've no fine words, not I, mine is a downright meaning, and with Love, or without, I must be satisfied that's in short.  Fell. 
How, Sir, which— way? Oh do not burn me with your fiery Eyes.  Pedro. 
Again— which way? Gad I must speak it broad,— she has an Itch to hear it on my Life.  Fell. 
I'll sing a Pretty Song to please ye, Sir,— 'twas made upon a poor unhappy Maid, forced in a Wood by a rude Barbarous Russian, and robbed and Ravished,— I know not what that is, but she was sadly used.  Pedro. 
What has she made a Song upon herself beforehand? She Sings. 
HE led her by the Milk white hand into a Covert shady,  
He swore he'd give her House and Land▪ and she should be a Lady.  
Her Cheeks were spread with Crimson red; at last he made her squeak'out.  
The naughty man a Trick began that In ashamed to speak out.   
Acquaint and fine i'faith, what a pretty little warbling Pipe the Gipsy has— Oh— how I long to spoil it,— Come, come, my little Canary Bird, Music is most proper at Meals, I must fall too now.  Fell. 
Oh some kind Angel now look down and save me: Oh but you han't herd me sing a merry Song yet, I have of the Devil and a Friar, how they were playing a Game at Cross Bunns, and how the Friar Cheated him. Sings again. 
THE Devil he pulled off his jacket of flame,  
The Friar he pulled off his Cowle,  
The Devil took him for a Dunce of the Game,  
The Friar took him for a Fool:  
He piqued, and repiqued him so oft,  
That at last he swore by the jolly fat Nuns,  
If Cards came no better than those that are past,  
Oh! Oh! I shall lose all my Bunns.   Pedro. 
Ha, ha, ha,— how the young Cockatrice— tickles me with her shrill Note,— But come prithee, now let me strike up my fit of mirth.  Fell. 
you've ne'er a Fiddle, Sir.  Pedro. 
Oh then I'll make use of yours.  Fell. 
Sweet, dear kind Sir,— A poor unhappy Girl! besides I'm ugly too.  Pedro. 
Ye lie, ye Baggage, ye lie, you're handsome enough in Conscience. Seizes.  Fell. 
Oh that the Earth would swallow me. Weeps.  Pedro within. 
Major where are ye?  Fell. 
Oh blessed sound!  Pedro. 
Ah Plague of all delays,— 'twas th' Captain's voice sure,— Ha, he's coming,— go get ye in ye little Hypocrite, and prepare yourself, d''ee hear, I'll be with ye presently.— Now Captain— What News— Shuts in Fellicia.  Enter Pedro Pedro. 
News that distracts us all: The General's mad yonder, the Duke of Mataloni has killed Cosmo, and with the Ring freed both himself and th' Duchess,— he's coming hither with the Prince of Bissignano, but in so strange a humour.  Pedro. 
All the better, get our Friends ready Captain, against he cools, to drink him up again, and be sure contrive to keep him from sleep: I have a little Business now, but at night I'll second ye.  Pedro. 
I'll not fail my part, he has not had a Nap this four days, nor shan't if Business can hinder. Exeunt severally.  Enter Massainello in a Rage with Bissignano and Guards. Mass. 
Let twenty Cannons fire against the Castle:— Down with the Houses in Toledo-Street, I will not leave a Don a Hole to Nest in: And in Revenge of Mataloni's Subtlety, and Cosmo's Death,— Kill all ye take of them; Burn, Ravish, Plunder.— 
I choke with Rage, and cannot vent my Gall,  
Till there's a Desolation of 'em all.   Biss. 
This is stark Frenzy, Sir, for Honour's sake— think, e'er ye Act this Outrage;— Has the Duke done more than is natural? And since you have forgot and broke your Promise, in other things relating to the State, had he been wise to trust you with his Wife?  Mass. 
Peace, Babbling Fool, Hell take thee quick for naming her.  Strikes Him. Biss. 
Then Life's my scorn, I'll die this moment.  Offers to Draw, Guards withhold it. Mass. 
That thou shalt not neither:— Away with him then, give him Liberty, I'll take down his proud heart without consigning.  Biss. 
And if it e'er forgives thee, curse me Heaven.  Exit Bissignano Guarded. Re-enter Pietro. Mass. 
Thy Looks are cheerful, what good News?  Piet. 
Rare, rare, Sir, the Party you sent after the Duke and's Wife o'ertook 'em, but he being disguised in Cosmo's habit, his Fact not known, was by the Guards— neglected, but she's forced from him and brought back to Prison.  Mass. 
Ah— had the half kind ●ates— but caught him too, my wishes had been full:— But come, however I have his better part, and that shall serve to cool my flame a little: Come hither Friend; what, thou art but a Captain?  Piet. 
No more, my Lord.  Mass. 
Give me thy No●e, March out and be a Colonel.  Pulls Him by the Nose and Cuffs Him. Piet. 
I am your Lordship's ever. Exit Pietro.  Mass. 
Oh Power, methinks I feel thee still more Charming, and my Revenge on Mataloni seems,— now not so— hopeless:— Death, I never name him, but the word chills my Veins; An Ominous Blast, methinks, shrivels my Nerves,— and makes my Blood clodd and grow cold as if the word were fatal,— Pish,— 'tis mere fancy, think on the Prisoner, she shall atone;— Now Hat● and Love are equal.  Enter Pimpwell. Pimp. 
I hear he is in pretty good Humour now, and therefore will venture upon him:— Yonder's the Duchess, my good Lord,— we have got her again;— why what a perverse thing 'tis,— Odd your Lordship e'en used her too civilly; if you would have taken my Advice, you should have Pinioned her, Cramped her, bound her to her Good Behaviour: A proud Minx to slight such an Honour.  Mass. 
Thou'rt in the right; how dost thou honest Fellow?  Pimp. 
Ah— mighty well, and like your Honour▪ and especially when I see you smile and look cheerfully:— And I can tell ye something will make ye more merry,— we have set this Vagabond Duke too,— we'll have him if he be above Ground.  Mass. 
I ever found thee diligent:— What Paper hast tha● there?  Pimp. 
Phugh, a Letter from my Good Lady to your Honour; she is pleased to over-value my small Parts and please ye. Now for my Government,— and Oh the Stars, Planets, Comets, Meteors, Fiery Flap-dragons, and Will-o'th-Wisps stand by me now, or may ye never more furnish an Almanac.—  Mass. 
Ha, ha,— why Blouse speaks kindly of thee here.  Pimp. 
Ah— Bless her good Honour— and forgive me one thing I had like to have forgot, my Lord,— I hear the People certainly design to vote your Honour— for Viceroy.—  Mass. 
D'ye they, that's well, she writes in thy behalf here for the Government of Aversi,— 'tis thine, there, there, Kicks Him. A Patent for thee, go and Govern..  Pimp. 
Ah thank your good Lordship, from my Soul, and happy be the To● that kicks me to the Government, to which in State I go. Exit.  Mass. 
Thus like Immortal, jove thus uncontrolled, shall gr●●● Massainello act his Pleasure, whilst Trembling Nations stand amazed to view him. Is there a higher Spoke in Fortune's Wheel, th●● where I stand?— No, but methinks with the Prodigious height● my Head grows dizzy. Stay, to morrow I'm a Viceroy, next a King▪ then wherefore shines that Sun so far above me; or how dares yonder Moon and Stars by Night pretend to Ape my Glory? Oh my hot Brain, is there a thing in Nature that is cold?— A real Substance that bears the name— of Ice? sure 'tis all Fiction, the Globe's composed of Fire, the Element's all Flame; and mine's more fierce than all, and more consuming: 
I from my Bosom breath a Hotter Hell,  
Than Phaeton on Afric when he fell.  Exit.   

SCEN. III.  Enter Viceroy, Mataloni and Aurelia. Vice. 
You have no Leisure now for Grief, my Lord, Revenge must ●ill your Bosom, thoughts of that,— charm and possess your Senses, 'tis your Deeds and not your Sorrows now must do you Justice.  Mat. 
Oh let Fate once afford me but the means, but one, one, lucky minute,— I'll forgive all my past miseries.  Vice. 
Let us not despair,— the Pious Cardinal has made a Progress beyond our Expectation.  Aur. 
He's too old, too dull, and loses time in grave Advising: Our way should be some deep stroke at a heat, some Stratagem to sink 'em at a Blow, without depending on Consideration, some Mine to mount 'em up, some Gulf to drown 'em, or with a wish could we obtain the Lightning Celestial, Blazes of Ethereal Fire; or Bribe the Thunder Rolling in the Clouds to break just o'er their Heads, and mash 'em all; that were a joyful Sight.  Vice. 
But these are Things impossible.  Aur. 
Oh that my Power were half so active as my vigorous Will,— that this vast Weed, this monstrous spreading Mushroom, that insolently gave me Life and Freedom, both from his hands, so much to my dishonour, might feel my Fury in its noble nature; at least that he might see my Glorious Anger, and my just detestation of myself, for being cursed so far, so poorly fated to take 'em as his Courtesy.  Mat. 
'Tis still the nature of Mechanic Villains, to make by insolent action an Affront,— what they design a Kindness: I warrant he looked stately.  Aur. 
Like the World's Emperor,— as if we all were closed up in a Bubble, which he could puff to nothing: Oh I am Mad, mad, and could tear my hated self to pieces; Curse my unhappy Stars, and make a Contract even with the Prince of the Infernal Mansions,— so I might perfect my Revenge.  Vice. 
Calmer, calmer, you torment yourself too much.  Aur. 
Oh talk not of Calmness, I've a Storm within me, and it must blow before the Rain will follow,— Weeps.— Ha, can I be so base, so meanly spirited to shed a Tear too, a foolish Drop,— 'tis gone,— and with it all my Womanly soft temper,— for when I think upon your Belleraiza, and the Distress of my dear, dear Fellicia,— both now Confined amongst these worst of Devils, 
Fury unquenchable my Breast does burn,  
I change my Nature, and a Dragon turn.  Exit.  Vice. 
I cannot blame her for unbridled Passion: Because her grief is weighty; a sense of Honour too severely great, but you, my Lord, I fear, by her last words are struck afresh.  Mat. 
'Tis true, the name of Belleraiza shot me, shot me to th' Heart, but I have pulled the Dart out, and will be whole again,— What's to be done, my Lord?  Vice. 
Immediate Diligence to aggravate the People, whom the Cardinal,— who by his virtue always gained their Love, possesses now with Massainello's Madness, upon which Thousands have ●ate revolted from him,— being daily abused, some killed, some wounded, as his Humour pleases,— and on the least Encouragement we are told, will turn against him.  Mat. 
Oh that Joyful hour!  Vice. 
Here comes his Gracious Eminence.  Mat. 
And I think the Prince of Bissignano.  Vice. 
'Tis the same, his coming must produce something of moment.  Enter Cardinal and Bissignano. Card. 
Health to your Highness.  Biss. 
Long and many years happy and flourishing.  Vice. 
This from you, my Lord, the General's Moderator, is somewhat strange.  Biss. 
True, I was Moderator, but not Sycophant; but now believe, my Lord, I am his Fate,— he's now stark Frantic, all his Actions show it, worrys the Nobles that don't Bow and Cringe, and do him Reverence as he passes by, as a Wolf does a Flock of harmless Sheep;— Kills, Tortures his own Friends, and plays the Devil, even with those very Rogues that set him up.  Card. 
And that those Crush him is most natural.  Biss. 
Besides, a Barbarous Action done last Night, too bad to be related— Innocent Fellicia your sweet Niece, my Lord, savagely Ravished by his Villain Brother; at which sad News her Father, Old Caivano,— being close Imprisoned too, since died with Grief.  Mat. 
Accursed Dog, Oh, my thoughts murder me! Oh Belleraiza!  Biss. 
Nothing of her is Noised, hope well, my Lord.  Card. 
And prudently let's manage: Has your Highness spread all those Papers round about the City, importing from the King a General Pardon to all the People that lay down their Arms.  Vice. 
Most carefully,— and find it has the same Effects I wish, for Numbers have observed it, and Deserted.  Biss. 
Most certainly they have,— on which occasion the Tyrant-Rebel, tho' he's always flustered, has yet a Pang of Fear, and keeps up close,— doubles even his Guards, and shows an Apprehension of what I hope will happen.  Mat. 
How shall I come to unkennel this Damned ●ox, this Bloody, this most Hellish—  Biss. 
Fortune; my Lord, shows ye the way, by me; it is my luck, for now I'll call it so, to have an Interest in his Night's Confident, his Blowzabella,— she, if she holds her Humour as 'twas lately,— will scarce deny me any asked for favour; nor will she balk at this, if I request it, to give me th' opportunity to see him privately.  Vice. 
It looks with a good face, proceed my Lord.  Biss. 
'Tis the easier to be done,— because the breach about the Blow, the Villain lately gave me is supposed reconciled, which if ● e'er forgive, may this right hand refuse to do me reason: My Drift is unsuspected, and being done, when I have moulded her, you shall have notice.  Mat. 
Oh that the Wings of Time moved faster! Now I am impatient till the Minute comes.  Biss. 
Yet too much haste, my Lord, may ruin all: Let us meet once more here, and then consult about some methods to be used.  Card. 
'Tis reasonable,— whilst I assist at the Cathedral, and there by subtle means disperse more Papers, and fix the People in their hopes of Pardon.  Vice. 
Six Troops of Spanish Horse,— shall all be ready against the Signal's given for our meeting, which I could wish were suddenly.  Biss. 
To morrow, ere th' Rosy Guide has ushered in the Sun; in the mean time let all be hushed as Death,— 'tis Freedom that's at stake, then let's be close and cautious. 
Silent as Infants in soft Dreams appear;  
Or Lovers— when they know— that Spies are near.  Exeunt.    

ACT V.  

SCEN. I.  Enter Bissignano, Blowzabella, Pimpwell, and La Poop. Blowz. 
LA Poop, Go tell the Ladies that are come to visit me, I suppose to beg something,— that I'll not be seen to day; tell I'm troubled with Vapours, and keep my Chamber.  L. Poop. 
I call, Madam, I have always one Lie ready for your Ladyship ven ever you have de occasion,— warrant me know ver well de Lie be as proper vor de File de Chambre, as de old Gown of her Lady ven she leave off. Exit La Poop.  Blow. 
Well, my Lord, and as you were saying, give me your hand; nay, nay, you might have spared that,— Kisses i●. for I have been so busy setting in order some new Jewels to wear, that Odsfish I forgot to wash 'em to day.  Biss. 
Ay or this Week either, on my Conscience: Well, if my Guts don't come up now, I'm happy.  Pimp. 
Hum, this long Chined Don is very familiar, methinks, but if this hold, I shall make bold to let him know there are some Governors his Equals, to be first served;— Gad my quality shall be known now. I have it: What, we must do great things now.  Blowz. 
Ay, ay, you say enough of my Beauty, and my good shape, now you're in the sit; but I have had but slender Proofs from a Person as I thought of your Ability.  Biss. 
Hum, what a Devil shall I say now, for the truth is I have always shunned her as a Hare does a Hound, when she hears the Horn near her. Aside. Oh, Madam, Business, business, 'tis that has always occasioned my misfortune.  Pimp. 
I beseech ye, Madam, let him mind his— hem— hem, and let others— that are more diligent— and men of quality too mind yours.  Biss. 
So, thank my Stars,— I have a Rival now,— of a Valet de Chambre.  Blowz. 
Time was my Lord, when that face of yours could do something with me,— but you Courtiers are so dull in matters of moment, that a Woman of spirit grows weary of ye presently.— My Lord, prithee come hither and put this Patch on right. To Pimp.  Pimp. 
Humph, humph, poor Prince how he looks now? Aside. Pray Madam, dispatch his Business, and send him away, I have a word or two to speak t'ee in private.  Blowz. 
And what Private Business— hast thou with me, ha,— Go, you are a Rogue;— You are so uppish now you're a Man of Quality.  Biss. 
Ay, 'tis even so, I find I'm a mere Castaway,— but I must Colloque till I get my Ends of her however.  Blowz. 
Well, my Lord, and what other Business have you with me, besides your Address? what, you would speak with the General?  Biss. 
Yes, Madam, and about earnest Business concerns him.  Pimp. 
Lend him your Key, Madam, donted go yourself t● introduce him; 'tis below ye: Besides, you know he'll be every minute troubling ye, for he's employed continually.  Blowz. 
'Tis true, therefore I'll put that trouble off my hands▪ There, my Lord, that Key admits ye to him; and now d''ee hear, you may negotiate your own public Business— without troubling mine in private.  Pimp. 
Ay, d''ee hear, my Lord, you understand without troubling ours in private.  Biss. 
Blessed Accident, Fortune has thrown that into my hands unexpected, that else I should have half-damned my Soul with Lying and Flattery to get from her, Aside. I hear, Madam, the General's busy now with some Friends, an hour hence will be time enough for me.  Blowz. 
Oh, when you please:— Your Servant, my Lord.  Pimp. 
Your Servant, good my Lord;— there, there's the Door, my Lord.  Biss. 
Insolent Rogue, he sees not yet the Fiend that's hovering o'er him Aside.  Blowz. 
The General is busy,— 'tis true, that is, he's Drinking: A Daily Affair that my Brother Pedro always employs Exit Bissig. him in: he says politicly, but I'm sure 'tis an insufferable Plague to me, for he's now and then stark mad,— runs up and down without his Hat, and but one Stockin on, stares like a Fury, and never comes to visit me, but after three or four words we fall to Cuffs;— here lies his Peruke, and there my Head-dress; but Odsfish I'll be revenged of him.— Come, my Lord, let's go in, Come. Pats Him.  Pimp. 
My Lord,— my Lord— how purely— it sounds, and what a figure I shall make, when for Air or so,— I whip over again into my own Country England. Zooks how my Title will rattle there!— Here's Don Ricardo arrived, they cry presently: Then to the Park I scour, then to the Playhouse, than the Side-box, then behind the Scenes, and then prattle with the little pretty Tuzzy Muzzy, winking, Pinking Rogues; Ah Le Plasire charmant, dear Madam, I beg your Pardon.— Gad I was so wrapped with my new Fortune,— that I had almost forgot your Ladyship.  Blow. 
Had ye so: Come Sirrah, come your ways in and take a Dram of my Bottle,— I'll give ye something shall rub up your remembrance presently; Come Ricky— come Sirrah.  Pimp. 
March on Don, march on, Oh happy, happy Rogue! What, we must do great things now. Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Viceroy and Cardinal. Vice. 
Blessed News! The Face of things wears; sudden Change, revolting Crowds throng hourly to the Castle,— and beg for Pardon, promising to turn and serve with,— The rebel's humour's now so monstrous grown, that he spares none, murders his Friends and Kinsmen, Racks and breaks o'th' Wheel for every Trifle, not heeding Sex nor Age, Desert nor Quality.  Card. 
His Madness, we may well believe will last too, he has not slept this Week.  Vice. 
And every day they drink him to a height.  Card. 
That works for us,— and makes him do such mischiefs that now the People Generally hate him; the Vice-Queen's Prayer is heard, for that she may be throughly satisfied with sweet Revenge, which I confess my best Divinity can't in this Juncture dissallow; — we only want the generous performance of Bissignano's— Promise,— and Mataloni's Valour to effect it, and then Revenge is sure.  Enter Mataloni Leading Fellicia, her Hair dishevelled, and Mouth Bloody, as Ravished. Vice. 
But who comes yonder, Oh my Tortured Soul!— Who is't? I see my dear, my sweet Fellicia.  Mat. 
Had ever Beauty so severe a Blast, or tender Innocence so hard a Fate! The Ravisher it seems Mad with his Guilt, and fearing 'twould exasperated the People soon,— as the Barbarous Action was performed, close covered with a Veil conveyed her hither.  Fell. 
Bury me quick, Oh do not look upon me, but pity and revenge, Oh if a wretched ruined Virgin's Prayer can touch your Hearts, pity me and revenge. Exit.  Card. 
My Heart is wounded, and my Reason fails me,— why such things are, I must not dare not ask,— the Mystery of Religion, curbs my thoughts,— and there is nothing left me but to wonder: 
Why Innocence to such distress can fall,  
None e'er can know but only who knows all.   Enter Bissignano with a Key. Vice. 
Welcome, most Noble Lord,— good Luck I hope has blessed us in your coming.  Biss. 
Good, as 'tis possible,— here is the fatal Key that opens Hell, where all the Fiends sit in Triumphant Revels, amongst their Brimming Bowls, fearless of Danger.— Now let us plunge 'em to the inmost Cavern,— where Sulphurous Caldrons boil, with hottest fury— I sent a Message to the Vicequeen lately— to get the Blouse the Fishwife out o'th' way by inviting her to Music,— or a Banquet; and she resolves on't; this being done, our way is clear, our Hearts and Hands are ready to crush this odious Monster.  Mat. 
Lead, Brave Prince.  Biss. 
And yet it is, below ourselves, methinks, to taint our Hands with his vile Blood— our Slaves shall do the Drudgery.  Mat. 
I'll be there however,— lest some damned Accident  Vice. 
Should Intervene and stop the wished Affair.  Card. 
And I'll go beg,— your good Success by Prayer. Exeunt.   

SCEN. III.  Discovers Massainello just risen from Table, where Pedro, Pietro and others were Drinking. Mass. 
She has defied my Love, and dares my Cruelty; Is Massainello to be dared,— no,— Woman, thou soon shalt find the Thunderbolts of jove, and all the fierce Artillery of Heaven— too weak to balk my Power,— Yet she Smiles, and when I talk of Rape— or Death with Torment, points to the Sky as if from thence she hoped fresh Succours to relieve her.  Pedr. 
Harkee,— don't mind him, he's got now into one of his moody Fits:— Come, come, drink about.  Piet. 
He has sent for the Duchess,— and I suppose will be somewhat rough with her Grace, if she keeps her old Humour;— Ten to one but we shall see some Scratching, Mewing and caterwauling between 'em.  Mass. 
Caesar Lubrano, Tursis and Zavalio, three mighty Dons that proudly looked upon me as I thought with Contempt, shall die to Night, their Houses Burnt and Plundered;— nor stop I here, but all their Heads and Hands from Bodies chopped, and then Nailed upon Crosses,— shall stand to adorn th' Entrance of my Palace; and had I but that Devil Mataloni,— but here's one half of him, the Fiend split in two, this part is Woman.  Guards bring in Belleraiza. Bell. 
Well, Sir, what Torture next? you flag and cool, my Courage can endure a thousand worse, than these I feel of Darkness and of Solitude,— my Humour too is fixed just as it was, for know I hate ye still.  Mass. 
And I thee now, so rankly, I could wish thou wert a Man, that being of the stronger Constitution, thou might'st feel pain the more.  Pedro. 
So she has nettled him already,— there's no moulding her to any thing by fair means,— she's obstinate still,— what a Devil is this Virtue, I wonder that Women stickle so about,— They can sell it for nothing, I never heard it was worth a Groat.  Pietro. 
Ah— the General never went the right way to work with her; if any Woman denies me impertinently, 'tis but knocking her down, and there's an end of the matter.  Bell. 
Will you not prove the force then of your hatred? Order the Rack or Wheel, or any thing, so you dismiss me.  Mass. 
Poor Obstinate,— art thou so fond of Pain?  Bell. 
Pain— will be pleasure, so I save my Honour.  Mass. 
Your Honour! Since then— you're of that so tender— I thank ye, you have shown the way to plague ye,— I am not ignorant, a Woman's Will can when its stubborn defy death and horror,— if that Fantastic whimsy be secure,— and I have found one of this sort are you: 
Your Honour safe, you all my Power defy,  
Than first I'll kill your Honour ere you die.  For to divert myself and my Companions thou shalt here be stripped stark naked in our view, each charming Limb which Fool's mistake for Beauty,— exposed even to my Guards to mock and scorn.  Bell. 
Torment of Torments, what have I heard him say?  Mass. 
Here, seize on her, and use the haughty Mischief as I command, that we may view the Beauty's she's so proud of, and judge whither perfection or defects are most excelling. They seize her.  Pedr. 
We shall have some fresh Play presently.  Bell. 
Oh, I have been too rash,— thus at your Feet— I beg your pardon, and repent my words: Burn, tear me piecemeal, for provoking ye, invent new Tortures that were never heard of,— to glut your Cruelty, and I'll call it Justice, but let me scape the shame of being exposed.  Mass. 
Oh does it pinch ye now,— is— thin skinned Honour so nice that a mere sight on't makes ye squeak.— I say unclothe her, for I now, methinks, expect a certain pleasure, to behold a Body that Mankind oft Damn their Souls for.  Bell. 
Oh I will never rise but rooted here,— fix till my life forsakes me.  Mass. 
Tear off her hold,— and strip her instantly; and when she's so disgraced, take off her Head, and send it to her Yoke-mate Mataloni.  Here Enter Bissignano, Mataloni, with a Pistol and Guards. Mat. 
That shall not need,— he comes to fetch the whole, here's Mataloni's self. Seizes her, she Embraces him.  Bell. 
Oh,— Ecstasy!  Mat. 
Fall on my Soldiers. He fights with the Guards.  Mass. 
Ha surprised! yet you shall buy me dearly, Despair assist me.  Bissignano Fights with Pedro and Disarms him. Massainello kills three of the Guards, and strives to get near to Belleraiza,— Mataloni shoots him with a Pistol,— He falls. Mass. 
Ah— Coward Fates! had my last minute prospered,— to reach thy Life, my own had fled with joy; but thou hast stopped me, 
Stopped all my Glory— in its full career,  
And sent th' Ambitious Soul I know not where.  Dies.  Mat. 
With thee die all my Fears: Oh my Soul's Joy,— once more, I see there's a kind Star for Lovers. Embraces her.  Bell. 
I cannot speak: Ah let my Eyes express me.  Biss. 
Secure those Rebels; then with speed let's go to meet the Viceroy and the Cardinal.  Mat. 
Let the Spanish Troops be drawn up near the— Castle, ready to publish when the Word is given the Death of this proud Monster.  Sold. 
They shall, my Lord.  Biss. 
And now thou Glorious Saint, Protector of our Kingdom, thus we thank thee.  Mat. 
Thank thee with Joy for this Propitious Hour,  
That frees Glad Naples— from Rebellious Power. Exeunt.   

SCEN. IU.  Enter Aurelia and Ladies. Aur. 
What is th' Pageant come?  1 Lady. 
So, please your Highness, I saw the Coach stop now at the Gate.  2 Lady. 
Her Sister too, and the whole Tribe of Fishwives.  Aur. 
And is the Mask— prepared as I gave Order?  1 Lady. 
Yes, Madam, and the Hangman, Death and the Devil too, with their proper Ornaments, all ready to wait on her.  2 Lady. 
Her Mackerel Ladyship,— I dare affirm was never in her Life so Entertained.  And. 
Not as she shall be ere I part with her,— By this time sure the Destinies have played their fatal Game, and the bold Rebel has in Hell his payment, as Noble Bissignano, sent me word, they then had plotted, and the hour's now past,— It must be done; th' uncommon Joy I feel, gives me assurance his Death will be their sport,— whilst I divert me with his Mawking here, and show her Beastly self by a reflection. She comes, and with a Pride I warrant, proper.— Who waits there? Set Cha●● out for her Mightiness— and her Retinue, and when the Mask begins, let one stand by her to explain the Figures.  Enter Blowzabella, Pimpwell, Ursula, and Attendants. Blowz. 
Well, Odsfish, 'tis a happy thing to be a Woman of Quality: Had I been a poor Jade now, the Devil of any Ball, Mask, or what d''ee call it had been made for me,— and now look, the Vicequeen thinks it her duty to show me respect,— On my word, this is a great point gained.  Pimp. 
Ay, Madam,— I warrant she has some suit or other to your Ladyship; and faith, Madam, if you ● ' take my Counsel, don't be too forward, let her wait a little,— 'tis the Method at Court always.  Blowz. 
'Tis so, Boy, thou'rt in the right.— Come now, let's hear this Stuff.  The Masque begins. Enter a Fisherman and Fishwife, and Dance. Seru. 
Now that your Greatness may understand the Figures,— you must know that the first is a Fisherman, and the Dowdy his Wife.  Blowz. 
Ha, ha, ha,— Odsfish that's pleasant enough.— Well, and prithee what's t'other?  Seru. 
Th' other is a Monster representing Rebellion.  Pimp. 
I warrant that's a troublesome Rascal.  Then Enter a Figure dressed like Pimpwell, and a Valet bearing a Robe and a Gown, Fine Clothes Tawdry. Seru. 
This is a Rascally Fellow, that's got into Office, and serves the others in their Villainies, his Name is Pride,— a Pimp, a Scoundrel.—  Pimp. 
Odd, methinks, the Fellow has a pretty kind of an Appearance: Gad I think he's like me: Come, let's hear him.  
Then they Dress the Fisherman and his Wife in the Robe and Gown, who Strutt about.—  
Then Enter three Figures, the one Representing Death, the other a Hangman, the third the Devil.  Blowz. 
Oh God, what Nauseous Scraggy Rascal's that— soh— I abominate th' sight of him.  Pimp. 
And I the tother,— methinks he looks like the Hangman.  Seru. 
Right, Sir, he is one,— the tother is, Madam, a strange surly positive morose Fellow, his Name is Death; few of you Ladies like him, he has not Flesh enough; the other, one that represents Rebellion.  

A Solemn Introduction of Instrumental Music, and then this Song is Sung by Mr. Pate, representing Rebellion.  
FRom Burning Caves the dreadfullest part of Hell,  
Where Fiends with Flaming Tongues in pain Eternal dwell,  
And damned by me on Earth in dismal horror yell;  
I come to show these Wretches here,  
What they are doomed to bear.  
I come to show what Torment must ensue,  
What endless Plagues are for Rebellion due▪  
Appear then each Slave  
Of Fate, Hell, and the Grave:  
Appear in your Terror, and wound their cursed Eyes  
With Sulphur perfumed too ye Furies arise.  1 Fury. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, we laugh aloud. Furies and others arise.  
We laugh, we laugh aloud,  
And of our Fortune still are proud,  
When e'er to Hell the Rebel's crowd.  2 Fury. 
These to worst Pangs— Grim Pluto does condemn,  
Our heaps of Coals are shoveled all to them.  3 Fury. 
And when in Limbo's Freezing Lake,  
We in another kind  
Damnation's Plague expect to find  
Proud Rebels still our Places take,  
And Grind their Gnashing Teeth and quake.  1 Fury. 
He may chance to find mercy who quaffs a full Bowl.  2 Fury. 
And the Whoremaster too may make friends for his Soul▪  3 Fury. 
But the Rebel unpardoned for ever shall howl.  Chorus of all. 
He may chance, etc.   Then a Dance; at the End of which Death and the Hangman come and seize on Pimpwell and Blowzabella, and the Devil on Ursula, and the rest. Exeunt. Pimp. 
I warrant that's a troublesome Fellow.  Blowz. 
Eyh, Eyh,— What would the Raw-boned Rascal have? Oh hideous! Hands, off Sirrah. Was ever such an Abuse?  Seru. 
'Tis part of the Entertainment, Madam, you must go with him.  Blowz. 
Go with him, I'll see the Devil have him first.  Ursul. 
And his Dam,— the tother here— Hands off Sirrah; you'll grow saucy presently.  Pimp. 
And what would you have with me ye Impudent Rascal? D''ee see how you soil my Coat? To the Hangman.  Seru. 
Oh he has a Halter, Sir, will cure ye of all Fashions presently. In short, Goody Fishwife, the Villain your Husband's dead, and yours Madam will be presently, therefore all ye have to console upon is to hang decently by one another: But first that you may die in your right Stations, kneel there and pay your Homage.  Blowz. 
Ah— Treason, Treason, where are my Guards?—  Pimp. 
Help, help there, I'm a Lord— Good People.  Seru. 
Ye Lie, ye are a Pimp, ye Rogue, they must Guard ye to the Gallows.  Aur. 
What can your Mightynesses bow so low, you that so late could dash at the Nobility, and kick your Kennel-dirt up in their Faces; Ha! can you Truckle now ye Grovelling Slaves, you're in your right Stations,— low as your Parent-clod. Then throw their hated Carcases on Dunghills, drag 'em to death; at last the hour is come, tho' long expected, which my indulgent Genius did reserve to gratify the labour of my Soul for all its Torments during this Rebellion:— Mean Souls when wronged, mean Satisfaction take. 
The great can only be with Blood repaid,  
And Death the least Atonement can be made.  Exit Aur.  Enter Viceroy, Mataloni, Cardinal, Bissignano, Aurelia, and Guards. Mat. 
Oh how the Slaves can Truckle, when they find how the Tide runs against 'em!  Vice. 
My Lord Cardinal— your Eminence was in the Marketplace; How did they relish my first Proclamation?  Card. 
Just as all Rabble do in Turns of Times; those that but two days past, would have stemmed Torrents▪ 〈◊〉 to the mouth of a new mounted Cannon, and finger'd eve● 〈…〉 — Now when they heard his Death, and found the Tide turn, laid present hold upon your Act of Grace, and were so far from naming him as General, that they even rend their Throats with this loud cry, Long live the King, and our most Noble Viceroy.  Biss. 
Nay more, no sooner had they seen his Body as it lay dead, but with Impetuous Fury they chopped his Head off first, and next his Hands, and on a Poll exalted them in view,— then dragged the Trunk with Horses through the Streets.  Bell. 
Adored be St. Genaro, and the Powers, that to their former Glory have restored— Abandoned Naples, and its Ancient Peace: 
But letting Gratitude peculiar move  
At once being blessed with Liberty and Love.  Shout within.  Vice. 
They now even offend me with their Zeal, making the Prospect of my Palace here, their place of Execution! Open that Folding-door, and you may see the Reward of dire Rebellion.  Here the SCENE Opens and discovers the Trunk of Massainello headless and Handless, dragged by Horses, his Head and Hands fastened to a Pole, with an Inscription, and behind these the Bodies of Blowzabella, Pedro and Pietro Hanging upon Gibbets. Card. 
A dreadful Sight! Yet bears it a good Moral,  
Discovering the vain state of Worldly Greatness;  
And what a slippery way he treads that chooses  
The Path of vain Ambition,— wanting Power  
To keep the great Resolves to which he swore.  
Had Massainello when he Signed the Articles,  
Renounced his Sway, and modestly retired,  
The Action past so Great, so Beneficial,  
Would almost have Atoned for his Rebellion:  
He had deserved a Golden Statue raised  
To keep his Name to perpetuity;  
But his Ambition blinding his weak Eyes,  
Turned his hot Brain, and broke the Reins of Reason.  
The Moral to all Rebels doth belong,  
They may a while, but cannot prosper long.  
And Heaven's use of 'em is thus made known,  
First to purge others Crimes, and last their own. Exeunt.     

EPILOGUE FOR Miss CAMPIAN.  
Dressed in the Fashion that I now appear,  
My Spanish Garb, and loose dishevelled Hair;  
A Gay Town-Spark, one of the Toasting Gang  
Just now came to me, and thus made Harangue:  
Madam, says he, and straight I found by this,  
He thought 'twould Anger me to call me Miss;  
Your part of being ravished, Ma'm, says he,  
Has stopped my Vitals quite, quite ●●●vish'd me.  
Pray let me kiss your Hand; Oh fie, Sir, no:  
Nay, Pish, cried I, and put him by just so:  
Yet thanked him, that he liked my Part to day.  
Burn me, says he, I like you; Damn the Play.  
Then muttered something softly in my Ear,  
Something of Hundreds settling by the Year.  
I coloured like a Rose, and trembled too;  
For Heaven knows for 'em what I was to do.  
But taking heart I angry answered thus:  
What mean ye, Sir, d''ee take me for Miss—  
A certain Lady we have lately lost?  
And at that word finding he'd make more pother,  
I started up and said, I'd call my Mother.  
At that, says he, and as he spoke it smiled,  
Why sure you wont— you won't be such a Child,  
There's none but Babies let their Mothers know,  
I was ashamed that he should think me so.  
We love the Childish scandal to prevent,  
To be thought fit, although we don't consent;  
So much confused I left him— this Relation  
I leave for you, Sirs, to make Application.  
If you forsake our Plays, and I am slighted,  
You see at least I one way may be righted,  
Young as I am— Knight-Errant can provide,  
That me to Paris will on Cockhorse guide.  
FINIS.