THE Injured Princess, OR THE Fatal UUager: As it was Acted at the Theater-Royal, By His Majesty's Servants.  
By Tho. Durfey, Gent.  
LONDON: Printed for R. Bentley and M. Magnes in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, near the Piazza. 1682.   

THE PROLOGUE.  

OLd Plays like Mistresses, long since enjoyed,  
Long after please, whom they before had cloyed;  
For Fancy chews the Cudd on past delight,  
And cheats itself to a new Appetite.  
But then this second Fit comes not so strong,  
Like second Agues, neither fierce nor long:  
What you have known before, grows sooner stale,  
And less provokes you, than an untold Tale.  
That but refreshes what before you knew,  
But this discovers something that is new;  
Hence 'tis, that at new Plays you come so soon,  
Like Bridegrooms, hot to go to Bed ere noon!  
Or, if you are detained some little space,  
The stinking Footman's sent to keep your place.  
But, when a Play's revived, you stay and dine,  
And drink till three, and then come dropping in;  
As Husband after absence, wait all day,  
And decently for Spouse, till Bedtime stay!  
So, ere the Brethren's liberal Fit was spent,  
The first wise Nonconformist, underwent  
With ease, and battened in Imprisonment.  
For greater gains, his zeal refused the less;  
Each day to him was worth a Diocese.  
But he who now, in hopes of equal gain,  
Will needs be Prisoner, tries the Trick in vain;  
He melts in durance half his Grease away,  
To get, like us, poor twenty Pounds a day.    

dramatis.  
SCENE. Luds-Town, alias London.  

Cymbeline, King of Britain.  
Ursaces', A noble Gentleman married to the Princess Eugenia.  
Pisanio, Confident and Friend to Ursaces.  
Cloten, A Fool, Son to the Queen by a former Husband.  
jachimo, A roaring drunken Lord, his Companion.  
Silvio, Another Companion.  
Shattillion, An opinionated Frenchman.  
Beaupre, Don Michael, His Friends.  
Bellarius, An old Courtier banished by Cymbeline.  
Palladour, Arviragus, Two young Princes, Sons to Cymbeline, bred up by Bellarius in a Cave as his own.  
Lucius, General to Augustus Caesar.   

Women.  
The Queen,  
Eugenia, The Princess.  
Clarina, Her Confident.  
Sophronia, Aurelia, Women, one to the Queen, the other to the Princess.    

THE Unequal Match; OR THE Fatal Wager.  

ACT I.  
Enter Ursaces, Eugenia and Pisanio, Clar. Lelia. Pisan. 
HEll now has done its worst; the meager Furies have opened all their Viols of black Malice, and shed the utmost drop— Is't possible! What Commission from the King to seize and banish my dearest Friend! Who would be good or virtuous if this be the reward! Can it be true?— What banished!  Eugen. 
Oh killing Sound! The greatest pang of death is easy to this Torment.  Ursa. 

'Tis my Fortune.  
But Oh ye immortal Powers! what is my sin,  
To merit this thy worst of punishments?   Eugen. 

If it be sin to love, we are past mercy,  
For never hearts were swelled with that true passion,  
As was Ursaces and Eugenia's.   Pisan. 

Hell swallow thee quick that causest this Separation:  
Thou hast the old man's Curse; I hope 'twill speed thee:  
To weep is but in vain.   Ursa. 

My Queen, my Mistress,  
Stop these warm bubbling Springs that melt my heart;  
Those Currents dearer than the Wealth of Ganges,  
Now flowing down the Rosy Fields of Beauty;  
And listen to my Vow: I will continue  
The truest Husband that ere plighted faith:  
My Residence in Galia at Beaupre's;  
My Father's Friend: Thither write my Soul,  
And I will feed upon each Character,  
And wear the Paper out with eager Kisses.   Eugen. 

So will I yours, with keeping in my bosom,  
Here near my heart— O the sad thought of parting!   Ursa. 
It must be so.  Eugen. 

Nay stay a little longer:  
Were you but riding out to take the Air,  
Such parting were too slight— See here my Love,  
This Diamond was my Mothers— wear it for me,  
And keep it till you woo another Wife,  
When poor Eugenia's dead.   Ursa. 

Another Wife!  
Why my best Life; Oh why that cruel word!  
Another Wife! No, you supreme Directors  
Give me my own; let me enjoy but this,  
And freeze up my Embraces of a next  
With Death's cold Icicle.  
Remain thou here while Sense can keep it on;  
And Sweetest Dearest,  
As I my poor self did exchange for you,  
To your so infinite loss, so in our Trifles  
I still w●● of you— for my sake wear this Bracelet:  
It has a Charm 'gainst Levity and Jealousy;  
'Twill keep me in your mind.   Eugen. 

It shall grow to me, and from my Arm  
Never shall be separated— Ha, my Father!  
When my Ursaces shall we meet again?   Ursa. 
When? Heaven can tell.  Enter Cymbeline, Queen and Train. Cym. 

Still dar'st thou with thy baseness wound my eyes:  
Mechanic Wretch, lost both in birth and merit,  
Can thy plumed Insolence dare to soar so high,  
As to contemn my Orders?   Ursa. 

Royal Sir,  
Grace but my Story with a minute's audience.   Cym. 

Ha! Wouldst thou speak?  
And shall I patient hear my own dishonour,  
Having yet bleeding Wounds new probed— What listen  
To my Daughter's Infamy? and shall a Vassal,  
The Creature of my Charity, insolently dare  
To stamp his plebeian Image on my Coin,  
Yet live untortured?— Oh ye Powers have patience!   Queen. 

Mercy, Sir, adds lustre to a Crown;  
'Tis lost on stubborn minds.   Cym. 

Hence from my sight:  
If after the next dawn within my Kingdom,  
Appears so vile a Creature as Ursaces,  
That moment is thy last of Life— Away  
Thou poison to my Blood.   Ursa. 

Heaven keep your Majesty,  
And may your years and joys numerous as sands,  
Crowd happily upon you.  
So poor Offenders trembling meet their doom,  
Punished by death, yet fear a worse to come.   Exit. Eugen. 

So breaks the dear strings of the panting heart,  
When the loved life flies from it— Oh—   Clarin. 

Was ever Scythian Cruelty like this,  
Or long Divorce so bitter?   Cymb. 

Was ever King so wretched in his Offspring,  
Or ever careful Father cursed as I?   Queen. 

Are you not mighty? Shall the lofty Oak  
Stoop to the Shrub beneath it? No, rather root it up.  
O that my Spirit lodged within your Bosom,  
I would not counsel but command Obedience!   Eugen. 

Madam, I must believe you are my Stepmother,  
Better known to me by that title than your Love.   Cymb. 

She is your Queen, whose Son you might have married,  
Had wisdom guided thy unskilful youth:  
Designed to make thee happy.   Eugen. 
Happy?  Queen. 

Nay let her use her pleasure:  
A Jewel of true worth, exceeding lustre,  
Sure need not court the wearer; nor shall my Son  
By humble flattery soothe her pride and vainness:  
If as her Equal she think fit to treat him,  
My voice is his— but I'll have no Submissions.  
But I shall court occasion to consider  
This sly contempt— You shall know who I am.   Eugen. 
I do too well.  Cymb. 

Thou too well know'st thy shame, but from this moment  
I charge thee on thy life not shed a Tear,  
Nor breath a Sigh— But entertain the Prince  
As he deserves, with the best face of Smiles:  
Bury in black oblivion that low Fellow,  
That exiled Wretch Ursaces, forget for ever,  
Or by the Gods of Britain, by my Crown,  
And my Queen's Love,  
I'll cast thee out a stranger to my Blood,  
And ne'er remember that thou wert my Daughter.   Exeunt K. Q. G. Clarin. 

There yet is comfort, could you calm this Passion:  
Your Father may relent, your Lord return,  
And you again be blessed, a happy Princess.   Eugen. 

A Princess? O vain Title, and thou ingrate  
To mock my bitter Woes with Quality,  
The cursed cause of my Grief— Ah would I were  
Some Shepherd's Daughter, and my dear Ursaces  
The Darling of some neighbouring Villager!  
That through the flowery Meadows sent him daily,  
His Scrip well filled with store of Rustic Viands,  
To treat me under some old shady Oak,  
The Monarch of the Grove: Then then should I be happy;  
There would we look and smile, and talk and sing,  
And tell a hundred, hundred pretty Tales,  
Vow lasting passions all the livelong day,  
And sigh, and kiss the happy hours away.   Enter Pisanio. Clarin. 
Here comes my Father.  Eugen. 

May all thy years, thou Parent of my Life,  
Be long and happy, as thou bring'st me comfort.  
How did my Lord support this Separation?   Pisan. 

Like your Lord,  
I kissed his hand aboard, saw the hoist Sails,  
Stood on the shore, and viewed the rolling waves,  
Then smooth as Youth, and mild as modest Virtue,  
Courting his presence— all the gentle winds  
Were lodged in remote corners, softly breezing,  
To waste that Treasure safely to the Port,  
On which your Life depends.   Eugen. 

My Life indeed— But good old Sir,  
Tell me (for there's a Theme of Truth lodged in that Face)  
What was the last kind word he spoke of me?   Pisan. 

His Queen, his Wife, and then removed from shore,  
Just as I left him,  
I saw him clasp his hands, and kiss your Ring.   Eugen. 

Senseless Jewel, happier far than I!  
But couldst thou leave him so?— had I been there,  
I would ha' broke my Eyestrings, cracked 'em,  
And looked after him till the diminution of space  
Had pointed him, sharp as my Needle,  
And when the envious distance barred my sight  
Of that blessed Object, turned my eyes and wept.   Pisan. 

I could not stop that Tribute more than you,  
What War could never force, mild Pity drew.   Eugen. 

I did not take my leave of him, but had  
Most pretty things to say, ere I could tell him  
How I would think of him at certain hours  
Such thoughts, and such— ere I could make him swear,  
The Gallian Beauties never should betray  
My Interest, or his Honour, or have charged him  
At the sixth hour of Morn, or Noon, or Midnight,  
To bless me with his Greeting: Or ere I could  
Give him a parting Kiss, which I had set  
Between two charming words, comes in my Father,  
And like the stubborn blast o'th' stormy North,  
Nipped all my Buds from blowing.   Enter Lelia. Lelia. 
Madam, Prince Cloten's coming.  Eugen. 

I'll fly him as the Plague: My Lord, your Servant;  
Alas, how poor a thing's a Fool of Quality!   Exit. Pisan. 

Had Nature stamped all Women in this mould,  
Our Sex had all been damned, attractive Love and Beauty  
Had lulled us to the Devil; we should have doted so,  
Self-murder must have followed,  
And shown th' effect of too much Love and Jealousy.  
But they are not all like this— This is a Creature  
So good, I almost wonder that she lives:  
Her Lord's a brave young man too, and when I prove  
False to his merit, may I then be wretched.   Enter Cloten, Jachimo, Attendants. Cloten. 

But to have six to four for 200 Guinies,  
And lose, is damned luck, tho' by your favour, for a man  
Of my quality, ha jachimo! honest drunken Lord, is't not?   jach. 

'Twas indifferently hellish— the Devil had a paw in't,  
That's certain.  
But stay, how now, who's that?   Cloten. 
'Ud so, 'tis my Lord Pisanio, and I'll lay a Wager sent Messenger to me from the Princess Eugenia.  
Well, my Mother's a plaguy cunning Woman:  
ay, see she will make her marry me in spite of her. How now my Lord Pisanio, what News with you, umph?  
My Lord jachimo, prithee be wise now, and look soberly a little.  jach. 
Never fear me man, I am sober as a Judge.  Cloten. 
And how does the Princess old Lord— ha— does she come about, does she relent, does she yet know the difference between Lord Cloten, and that mechanic banished Worm Ursaces?  Pisan. 
A Worm, my Lord?  Cloten. 
A Worm, my Lord, ay a Maggot, if compared to me; hang him, indigent Rascal, were there no other Reason, I hate him for his Poverty, for he's not worth a Groat, as poor as jehu.  jach. 
jehu? job, job, my Lord, 'twas job was the poor Rat.  Cloten. 
I say 'twas jehu: Prithee jachimo be silent, a Pox I wonder you will pretend to talk when you see you are drunk.  jach. 
Mum, mum— I've done: But, my Lord, prithee ask him if he knows where we may find a sound Wench; he's a slauging old Whipster, I warrant him.  Pisan. 
The disease of Folly may be infectious, I'll be gone.  Cloten. 
Hark you my Lord, why in such haste— have you no message from the Princess?— umph—  Pisan. 
The Princess? Not I, my Lord.  Cloten. 
Not you, my Lord? and why so— my never look sour for the matter, Gad if you do, I'll be revenged, I'll tell you that the Queen shall know it; I'll not be affronted, not I, by ne'er a State-Caterpillar in Britain; Gad any one that frowns at me is the Son of a Whore, and my Mother shall get him poisoned.  Pisan. 
My Lord, I know nothing of your Affair; I beseech you make not my Age the Subject of your Anger; I am not fit to be privy in Love-matters; the Princess may be fond, dote, languish, nay die for you, but for my part I am ignorant.  Cloten. 
O may she so, Sir— dost hear that, jachimo?  jach. 
Oons, Pull off his Beard, confound his Whiskers; what does he prate?  Cloten. 
I thought she could not hold out long: Come jachimo, thou and I will go and prepare a Serenade for her.  jach. 

Let's put old Drybones there upon a wooden Dromedary,  
Carry him before her Window, and make him sing her a Song.   Cloten. 
Ha, ha, he! 'twould be rare sport faith; but hang him, we won't do him that honour: Come, come away.  Exeunt singing. Pisan. 

That such a subtle Devil as his Mother  
Should bring the World this Ass— this Ape of Mankind;  
A Woman too that puts down all with Brain,  
And overreaching Plots, yet this great Fool her Son  
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart,  
And leave eighteen— Alas poor Eugenia, how I pity thee!  
Now I'll to the King;  
If I can, I'll serve thee; if not, wish thee well.   Exit. Enter Queen Aurelia, and Ladies. Queen. 

There goes Ursaces' Parasite; that old Fellow  
Does me, my Son, and great Design, more mischief,  
Than any now at Court. Well, what's to be done then?  
When a Tree stands to hinder a good Prospect,  
The only way's to fell it— he shall down,  
His Fate is cast— Aurelia.   Aurel. 
Your Majesty.  Queen. 
Is the Doctor come yet?  Aurel. 
Not yet Madam, but expected every moment.  Queen. 

That Instrument of Fate I've bribed to serve me;  
He has strange poisonous Drugs, whose mortal Quality  
Hold deadly enmity with humane Life.  
This being mine, I'll try the first effects  
Upon this Lord, this Bar of my Ambition,  
This foe to my Son's Greatness— where's Eugenia?   Aurel. 
The Princess, Madam?  Queen. 

Could you not answer me without that Title?  
The Princess? you'll call her Queen ere long.   Aurel. 
Your Majesty's Pardon; I know more of duty.  Queen. 
Has she been seen to day?  Aurel. 

Nor yesterday, Madam.  
The twilight Bat that hates the meridian Sun,  
Keeps not so close, her Window's are damned up,  
And not a Creature suffered to come near her,  
But her new Favourite Clarinna.   Queen. 
Pisanio's Daughter?  Aurel. 
Yes, Madam.  Queen. 

Send one to tell him I would speak with him. Exit Aur.  
They're plotting hourly, therefore 'tis fit Vengeance  
Should be swift; for by Pisanio's death,  
My Son mounts one step higher towards the Throne.  
The King is old, too old to share my heart,  
And if he dies, Eugenia then is Queen:  
But Queen of Shades she shall be ere that happen,  
If she refuse the Marriage with my Son—  
Virtue avant, thou Dream, thou airy Phantasm;  
Had I been lowly born, I might have been  
Thy Votary— but 'tis below a Queen.  
Ambition's Virtue now, therefore be gone:  
Cloten, For thee I'll cut through all Opposers,  
King, Husband, Daughter, Friend, I'll stop at none,  
But on their bloody Ruins build thy Throne.—   Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  Enter Beaupre, Shattillion, and Don Michael. Shatt. 
UPon my Honour, Sir, I have observed him in Britain; he was then of a declining fame, and not expected to reap the additional Honour Fortune has since blessed him with: I could have looked on him then, without the help of admiration, tho' the Catalogue of his Endowments had been tabled by his side, and I to peruse him by Items.  Beaup. 
You speak of him when he was much less accomplished than now he is. Consider, Sir, he was young, he was young.  D. Mich. 
I have seen him at Madrid, and am of opinion, we had many there that could behold the Sun with as firm eyes as he.  Shatt. 
This business of marrying his King's Daughter, wherein he must be weighed by her youth and weakness, rather than his own value, echoes him, I doubt not, a great deal above his true worth.  D. Mich. 
And then his Banishment.  Shatt. 
ay, and the approbation of those that weep. This lamentable Divorce to comply with her, seem wonderfully to extend him: But I shall shortly be better informed; for I design a speedy Journey to Britain, where perhaps I may spend the best part of this Summer.  D. Mich. 
If the Ladies there are to be won at this easy rate, your time, Sir, may not be altogether lost.  Shatt. 
Why faith 'tis to be hoped so; and for my encouragement, the Gentleman has given us a good hint of the free Constitution of his Country. But how comes it, Sir, he is to sojourn with you? Pray how creeps Acquaintance.  Beaup. 
His Father and I have commanded together, to whom I have been often bound for no less than my Life: Here he comes; and pray let him be so esteemed among you, as suits with Gentlemen of your knowledge to a Stranger of his Quality— I beseech you.  Enter Ursaces. 
Be better known to this Gentleman, whom I commend to you as a noble Friend of mine; how worthy he is, I will leave to appear hereafter, rather than story him in his own hearing.  D. Mich. 
Sir, If my memory play not the Traitor with me, I think I had the honour of your Company once in Spain.  Ursa. 
Since when, Sir, I have been debtor to you for Courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and yet pay ever.  D. Mich. 
Sir, You o're-rate my poor kindness; I was glad I did atone my Countryman and you; it had been pity you should have been put together, with so mortal a purpose as then each other bore, about a business of so slight and trivial a nature.  Ursa. 
Sir, I was then but a young Traveller, and rather desired to be silent in what I heard, than to be guided by others Experiences; but upon my riper judgement, (if I offend not to say it is riper) my Quarrel was not altogether slight.  D. Mich. 
Faith, yes to be put to the Arbitrement of Swords, and by two such that would by all likelihood have disabled one the other, or have fallen both.  Shatt. 
Can we with manners ask what was the difference?  D. Mich. 
Safely I think: 'Twas a Contention in public about the praise of our Countrey-Mistresses; this Gentleman at that time vouching, and upon warrant of blood affirmation, his to be more fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified, and less contemptible, than any the rarest of our Spanish Ladies.  Shatt. 
That Lady is not living now sure, or this Gentleman's Opinion by this worn out.  Ursa. 
Sir, She holds her Virtue still, as I my Mind.  Shatt. 
You must not so far prefer her before ours of Gallia.  Ursa. 
Being so far provoked as I was at Madrid, I would diminish nothing, tho' I profess myself her Adorer, not her Friend.  Shatt. 
Methinks as fair, and as good, a kind of hand in hand Comparison were somewhat too good for any Lady in Brittany; for as that Diamond of yours there outshines some I have seen, so perhaps may she; but I have not seen the most precious Diamond that is, nor you the Lady Sir.  Ursa. 
I praised her as I rated her, so do I my Jewel.  Shatt. 
What do you esteem it at?  Ursa. 
More than the World enjoys.  Shatt. 
Then it must of necessity follow, that your unparalleled Mistress is outprized by a Trifle.  Ursa. 
You are mistaken: 'Tis possible one may be sold or given, if there were Wealth enough for the Purchase, or Merit for the Gift; the other is not a thing for Sale, and only the Gift of Heaven.  Shatt. 
Which Heaven has given you.  Ursa. 
Yes, and which with its leave I will keep.  Shatt. 
In secure Opinion, the contented blessing of the Wise. 'Tis true, you may; but you know, Sir, Strange Fowl light upon neighbouring Ponds; your Ring may be stolen too, and so your brace of unprizable Estimations be lost; the one being frail, and the other casual, a cunning Thief, or a (that way) accomplished Courtier, would hazard the winning both of first and last.  Ursa. 
Your Gallia contains none so accomplished a Courtier, to my knowledge: If in point of Constancy you term my Mistress frail; I doubt not but you may have store of Thiefs, but yet I fear not my Ring.  Shatt. 
Thiefs in Love, Sir; we are for the pleasant way of Larceny.  Ursa. 
Ay 'tis well you steal Love, your Rhetoric else would hardly promote you higher than the Intrigue of a Shepherd's Daughter.  Beaup. 
Come enough of this Gentlemen; pray let's leave here.  Ursa. 
Sir, With all my heart: This worthy Monsieur, I thank him, makes no Stranger of me, we are familiar at first sight.  Shatt. 
With five times so much Rhetoric I should get ground of your fair Mistress, nay perhaps make her go back even to the yielding, had I admittance and opportunity to befriend me.  Ursa. 
No, no.  Shatt. 
Come, I'll make a bold Proposition: I will lay the Moiety of my Estate to your Ring, which in my opinion overvalues it something— that I can win your Lady: I make this Wager now rather against your Confidence, than her Reputation; and to bar your offence herein too, I durst attempt it against any Lady in the World.  Ursa. 
Come Sir, you abuse yourself, and would, I doubt not, sustain what you deserve by such an Attempt.  Shatt. 
What's that?  Ursa. 
Why a shameful repulse, tho' your attempt deserves more a punishment too.  Shatt. 
As how Sir?  Ursa. 
To have your Nose slit cross, your slanderous Tongue pulled out by the roots, torn, mangled, cut to atoms, and blown like common filth into the Air.  Shatt. 
And who should do this?  Ursa. 
ay, were I concerned: Come, Sir, hold your Tongue, or by Heaven I shall—  Both offer to draw. Shatt. 
What a sleepy Britain?— I'll try that.  Beaup. 
Hold Gentlemen, and as you are my Friends forbear; there has been too much said— it came in suddenly, let it die as it was born, I beseech you be reconciled.  D. Mich. 
The Gentleman was a little too free in language.  Shatt. 
Mor dieu, Would I had my Estate and my Friend's, on confirmation of what I speak.  Ursa. 
That you would win my Lady?  Shatt. 
Yours to choose, who in Constancy, you think, stands so fair— Come Sir, let us lay by this petty Brawl; I will lay you 10000 ducats to your Ring, that commend me to the Court where your Lady is, and with no more advantage than the opportunity of a second Conference, I will bring from thence that Honour of hers which you imagine so reserved.  Ursa. 
I will wage Gold against your Gold; my Ring I hold as dear as my Finger, 'tis part of it.  Shatt. 
Oh you are a great Courtier Sir, and know that to buy Lady's Flesh at millions a dram is cheap, tho' you cannot keep it from tainting; but I see you have some Religion in you that you fear.  Ursa. 
Faith, I fear Religion much more than your Prowess: And now to reclaim your vanity, let there be Covenants drawn between us, and I will accept your Wager. Come now, I dare you to't; there's my Ring.  Gives it Beaupre. Shatt. 
'Tis done.  Beaup. 
I will have it no Lay.  Shatt. 
By the Gods 'tis one. If I bring you not sufficient testimony that I have enjoyed the dearest bodily part of your Mistress, my 10000 ducats are yours, so is your Diamond too; but if I thrive in my Enterprise, this your Jewel is mine, provided I have a Letter of Recommendation for my better Entertainment.  Ursa. 
I embrace the Conditions; only thus far you shall answer: If you attempt her, and give direct proof you have prevailed, I am no further your Enemy, she is not worth a Quarrel; but if she remain chaste, you not making it appear otherwise; then for the ill Opinion, and the Assault you have made to her Chastity, you shall answer me with your Sword.  Shatt. 

Your Hand— my Honour on't— I'll fetch my Gold, have our two  
Wagers recorded, and then away for Britain.  
And if I lose, I must prove dumb or blind;   Ursa. 
If win, there is no Hell like Womankind.  Exeunt.  
The End of the First Act.   

ACT II.  
Enter behind Cymbeline, Queen, a Purse, Pisanio, Doctor and Guards, a Viol, Mrs. Holten, Sue. Cym. 
NOt seen, nor to be spoke with?  Queen. 

She's too haughty,  
And since the exile of her abject Minion,  
Proves a stranger both to Manners and Obedience.   Cym. 

She shall be forced to Duty.  
What disobey her Father, slight her Queen?  
Now by the awful Powers that sway the Heavens,  
Paternal Love and Mildness I disclaim,  
And as a Corrosive to my sick heart,  
Hold her for ever.   Pisan. 
Please your Majesty.  Cym. 

Pisanio, do not speak.  
I have with watchful eye observed thy actions,  
Oft probed thy heart, and found it still corrupted,  
Still linked and fettered to that banished Fellow,  
Maugre our strict Commands, and deep Resentments.  
Why dost thou shame thy Age, and smile upon us?  
Bend low thy knees as loyal, that art known  
A Rebel to our Peace— Come, this is not well.   Pisan. 

Royal Sir, and my most honoured Master,  
In whose blessed favour I was ever happy,  
Whom I have loved from my heart's core, obeyed with joy,  
As King, and Genius of the War, followed through death,  
And as a God adored for Clemency.   Queen. 
O smooth-tongued Vice, O Flatterer!  Aside to the King. Pisan. 

Brand not your poor old Soldier, I beseech you,  
With breach of Loyalty. I rebel to your Peace?  
These Cheeks that have been furrowed in your Service;  
This Body scared with wounds; these low sunk Tapers  
Now dully shining in their withered Sockets,  
And spent with watching in cold Winter Camps,  
Have still been careful to preserve your Peace,  
Not to disturb it. How then am I a Rebel?  
Plebeian Sound it freezes all my blood,  
And adds a sharper Winter to my Age.   Queen. 

The silver Hairs that grace thy Reverend Head,  
Should grow in Wisdoms Soil, thou shouldst be  
Loyal: But who can tell a Murderer by his Face,  
Or know when Treason's candied o'er with Virtue?  
'Tis said you love Ursaces, wish him King,  
In hopes to make yourself and Daughter mighty:  
But these are but Reports, and claim small credit.   Pisan. 

Slanders, hellish Slanders.  
The poisonous Bite of some detracting Villain,  
That thinks my glass of Life has run too long:  
So may my better part, my immortal Soul,  
That guides the Orders of this aged Body,  
And dignifies it from the sordid Bruit,  
Return to its first Seat, its primitive Glory,  
As I have always wished my Sovereign's Life,  
And oft with hazard of my own defended it.  
'Tis true I love Ursaces.   Queen. 
Ha, mind that Sir!  Cymb. 

You love him then, and tho' your enervate power  
Dare not oppose our rage, you wish him well.   Pisan. 

As he deserves Sir, modestly I think.  
His Virtue's merit some small approbation;  
He's honest, valiant, and what's more, judicious;  
Wife to his Youth, and temperate to his Judgement.  
I once remember Sir, when the great Cassibelan  
Sent me against the stubborn Cambria Rebels,  
Then up in Arms, headed by old Bellarius,  
At Milford-haven, I took Ursaces with me,  
Who tho' a beardless Boy of 16 years,  
Showed many signal proofs of manly Valour,  
Fleshed his young Arm, and died his virgin Sword,  
In the best blood of your proud Enemies.  
This was some proof of Virtue, and deserves  
Sure some applause.   Queen. 

He was rewarded for it.  
His Majesty heaped daily favours on him,  
Blessed him with smiles, and gave him the permission  
Like a young Bird to wanton in his shine,  
And grow even till he grew insolent,  
And like a Bruit,  
Sullied the Royal Spring that quenched his thirst.   Pisan. 
The Bonds of Love and Nature.  Cym. 

Speak no more.  
Upon thy Life no more in his defence.  
Rash headlong Fool— how dar'st thou shock my will,  
Or stand betwixt his sentence and my power?  
Your service past pleads for you; but a second Crime  
Of this cursed nature rends thee from my Clemency.   Exit. Queen. 

My Lord, You were to blame t'enrage the King,  
With lavish praise of that desertless Exile:  
But be not troubled, I will appear your Friend,  
And stand between his anger and your fault.  
Doctor, a word; my Lord, for a time leave us.   Pisan. 

Thank your Majesty.  
She's kind o'th' sudden, pray Heaven it portend good:  
Such Flashes from her, like Etherial fire,  
Are followed with a Thunderbolt; I must be watchful.   Exit. Queen. 

Yes, I will stand thy Friend, and such a one,  
As fire to Cities, kindled by some Traitors;  
Or the long-winged Hawk, to the weak prey she trusses.  
Now, Doctor, have you brought the Drugs?   Doctor. 
They are here, Madam.  Queen. 

Well, there's your reward: Lock up your lips with the Key of  
Secrecy; whatever thou know'st, say nothing;  
Do this; I'll load thy merit richly, move the King  
To any shape for thy preferment: fare thee well;  
Be faithful, then be great, thou hast my power.   Exeunt. Doctor. 

That is, be a Rogue, and thrive; no Idol Greatness,  
Thou guilded Pill, swallowed by many thousands,  
ne'er shalt thou infect my honesty.— She thinks she has  
Strange lingering poison; but I well knew her spirit,  
And would not trust one of her malice with a Drug  
Of that damned nature: Those she has  
Will stupefy and dull the sense a while,  
And seemingly destroy; but there is  
No danger in what show of death it makes,  
More than the locking up the spirits a while,  
To be more fresh reviving.— She is gulled  
With a most false Effect, and I the truer,  
Hindering her black design with honesty.   Exit.  

SCENE II.  Enter Eugenia and Clarinna. Eugen. 

AH cruel Father, and a bloody Queen!  
Stepmother to my hopes as well as person,  
A dull Fop Suitor to a wedded Lady,  
That has her Husband banished. Can there be  
A tide of woe like this— yet life to bear it?   Enter Lelia. Lelia. 

Madam, A Gentleman new arrived from Gallia,  
Comes from my Lord with Letters.   Eugen. 

What dost thou say, thy Lord? speak, speak again:  
Oh thou art tedious! Saidst thou, from thy Lord?   Lelia. 
Yes, Madam, and with Letters.  Eugen. 

Fly to conduct him; be thy nimble speed  
Swifter than Winds, or the Sun's race— away. Exit Lelia.  
Now my Clarinna, now my dearest Lord,  
Remembers his poor Wife: Oh my full heart!   Enter Lelia with Shattillion, a Letter. Shatt. 

Madam, The brave Ursaces is in safety,  
And thus salutes your Highness.   Kisses her hand. Eugen. 

Most worthy Sir, You are the happiest Messenger  
That ever Lady wished for— my dear Clarinna:  
See all the doors be locked, lest the Queen  
Come and disturb us.   Exit Clar. Shatt. 
I am proud to do you service; here are Letters.  Eugen. 

The Index of my joy— I know the Hand:  
For learned indeed were that Astronomer  
That knew the Stars, as I his Character.  
Wax, by your leave, (Oh be you ever blessed!)  
You pretty Bees, that make these locks of Counsel;  
Bankrupts and Lovers have not equal prayers.   Reads. Shatt. 

All outwardly seems most Angelical:  
If she be furnished with a mind so rare,  
She is alone the Phoenix of the World,  
And I have lost my Wager.— Boldness befriend me;  
Arm me Audacity from head to foot,  
Or like the Parthians I shall flying fight,  
And never keep my ground.   Eug. (Reads aloud.) 

He is one of the noblest Note, to whose kindnesses I am most infinitely bound;  
Reflect upon him accordingly as you value your Ursaces.  
So far I read aloud; but even the lifeblood  
Of my heart is warmed by the rest— Noble Sir,  
The worth my Lord writes of you, shows your value.  
Pray command here; you're welcome, Sir, to Britain.   Shatt. 

Your Highness too much honours me:  
Now to begin the Game, assist me Cunning. Aside,  
Has Nature given 'em eyes,  
To see you spangled Sky, and the rich crop  
Of Sea and Land? Can they distinguish 'twixt  
The Planetary Orbs, and th' numerous Pebbles  
Upon the hungry Beach? and can they not,  
Guided by humane Reason, make distinction  
'Twixt fair and foul?   Eugen. 
What makes your admiration?  Shatt. 

Oh cursed lust!  
Thou horrid, old, blind Devil of the flesh,  
Why do men suffer thee to dam their Reason?   Eugen. 

This is strange.— What's the matter, Sir? Continues  
My Lord in health? Indeed you make me fear.   Shatt. 
He's well, Madam.  Eugen. 
Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is.  Shatt. 

Exceeding pleasant, not a Stranger there:  
So gay and frollicksom.— He is nicknamed,  
The Britain Reveller.   Eugen. 

When he was here, he did incline to sadness,  
And oftentimes not knowing why.   Shatt. 

It seems then our sharp Air has cured him.  
For my part I never saw him sad:  
There's an Italian, his associate one,  
An eminent Signieur, that has lately wedded  
A plump young Bona Roba, and when he speaks  
Of Constancy in Love, the roving Britain,  
(Your Lord I mean) laughs from free Lungs, cries, Oh  
Can my Sides hold, to think that man, who knows  
What Woman is, how loose and how imperfect,  
Should throw away a thought on such a trifle!   Eug. 
Will my Lord say so? Pray speak.  Shatt. 

Oh often, Madam!  
And with his eyes flowing in tears of laughter.  
It is a kind of sport, faith, to be by,  
And hear him mock the Italian.  
But Heaven knows, some men are much to blame.   Eug. 
Not he, I hope.  Shatt. 
Not he?  Eug. 

Nay, there is more in this, that cold Assertion,  
Attended with a careless carriage, shows  
You speak not what you think; my Lord, I fear,  
Blessed with the Gallian Beauties, forgets Britain.   Shatt. 

Oh gracious Heaven! why dost thou shower down blessings  
Upon unthankful man, that hourly slights 'em,  
And like the lavish hand of hoodwinked chance,  
Throw all to th' fool, and let the learned, wise and virtuous,  
Pine out a miserable life in poverty?   Eug. 

This still is from the matter; I beseech you, Sir,  
What is't creates your wonder?   Shatt. 
Something that moves my pity too.  Eug. 
Who do you pity, Sir?  Shatt. 
Two Creatures heartily.  Eug. 
Pray Heaven it reach not hither: Am I one, Sir?  Shatt. 
The more my Plague to know it you are one.  Eug. 

How can I merit pity, my Lord being well,  
As by this Letter I have proof he is?  
The meaning of all this.   Shatt. 

The meaning's fatal: Gods, Had I this Cheek  
To bathe my Lips upon; this Hand, whose touch,  
Whose every touch would force the feeler's Soul  
To th' Oath of Constancy; this Object, which  
Takes prisoner the wild motion of the Eye,  
Fixing it only here: Should I, damned then,  
Oh double damned, if ever so Apostate  
Mingle with Lips, as common as the stairs  
That mount the Capital.   Eug. 
Ha!  Shatt. 

Clasp Bodies plagued with all the pains  
That Infamy can lend Nature: Swear, an Eye  
Base, dead and glimmering as the smoky Taper,  
More bright than yours that lights that World of Beauty.  
Should I swear this, 'twere fit all Plagues of Hell  
Should bribe my Perjury.   Eug. 
Why has my Lord, has my Ursaces' sworn this?  Shatt. 

I would he had not.  
Had I not heard it, he has so fair an outside,  
Belief could not have entered me.   Eug. 
Oh misery!  Shatt. 

Unhappy I that tell you this sad Story:  
But Heaven knows my just and good design;  
I could not, see you wronged, and keep you ignorant.   Eug. 

Then is there nothing in Mankind but Vice?  
No Faith, no Honour. Ye swift-footed hour,  
Ye silent Witnesses of my true passion,  
Call back his Oaths: How often has he sworn  
To be for ever constant?   Shatt. 

Oh he will swear extremely!  
He takes a kind of pleasure to be perjured.   Eug. 
And will he kiss those Creatures?  Shatt. 

Kiss 'em, Madam?  
Alas, would that were all! there's no great fault in kissing.   Eug. 
Let me hear no more; be dumb to th' rest for ever.  Shatt. 

I know he hates ye; he has almost owned as much:  
When fired with Wine and Lust, he told your fondness  
In sport to his new Mistress.   Eug. 
Oh hellish Act! Oh cursed Ingratitude!  Shatt. 

I swear, your sad Misfortunes strike a heart  
That here vows to your service: Be revenged, Madam,  
The way is easy.   Eug. 

Revenged? Alas how should I!  
Unless upon myself, by sighs and weep,  
For loving that false man.   Shatt. 

Another way  
Courts your acceptance.   Eug. 
How Sir?  Shatt. 

'Tis the secretest and the sweetest way:  
I dedicate myself thus to your pleasure;  
Thus pay my adoration to your Beauty:  
I am a man born nobler than Ursaces',  
As young, as vigorous, and far more constant,  
And will continue fast to your affection,  
Still close and sure.   Eug. 
Oh Heaven! Is't possible? And will you love me too?  Shatt. 

Love thee?— I, better than my Soul:  
Were I assured of celestial Joys,  
Long as its Immortality love thee.  
The tender Mother loves not her first-born,  
The Poet Fame, or the sick Youth his health,  
With half that zeal.— Kind Fate, she comes, she yields:  
Oh glorious Conquest!— Let me seal my Passion  
Upon thy snowy hands transported, then rove higher,  
And ransack this white Magazine of Beauty.  
Here I shall find.   Eug. 

That which thou meritest, Death. Offers a Dagger at him.  
Detested Wretch, practised in Villainy,  
How I condemn my credulous Ears that have  
So long been Traitors? Wert thou honourable,  
Thou wouldst have told me this for Virtue's sake,  
And not for such base Ends.  
Who's there, Clarina?  
The King my Father shall be made acquainted  
Of this presumption, and by punishment,  
Equal to the Crime, reward thy brutal folly.   Shatt. 

‛ D's heart, this won't do, I must shift quickly, or I'm ruined.  
Give me your gracious pardon:  
What I have spoke was by your Lord's Command,  
To try your Constancy, and find if distance  
Could play the Traitor with your faith and memory,  
Which now I know unshooked, and shall acquaint him.   Eug. 
Can this be true? Could my Lord doubt me then?  Shatt. 

Alas you know, Madam, fierce Loves have still some jealousy  
He is a man of that clear equal temper,  
That he enchants Societies unto him;  
He sits amongst 'em like a descended God;  
He has a kind of Grandeur sets him off,  
More than a Mortal seeming. Be not angry then,  
Oh chastest of thy kind! that I have adventured  
To try your Virtue by a false Report,  
Being obliged by Oath, and my design so honest.   Eug. 

I'm satisfied; you appear clear again:  
Pray use my Power i'th' Court.   Shatt. 

My humble thanks; I had almost forgot  
To entreat your Highness in a small Request,  
And yet of moment too; for it concerns  
Your Lord, myself, and other noble Friends,  
That share in the design.   Eug. 
Pray what is't?  Shatt. 

A dozen of us Gentlemen, and your Lord,  
The best feather of our Wing, have mingled Sums,  
To buy a Present for the Roman Emperor,  
Which I, the Factor for the rest, have done in Britain here:  
'Tis Plate of rare device, and Jewels  
Of rich and exquisite form; their value's great,  
And I am something curious, being a Stranger,  
To have them in safe custody: May it please ye  
To take 'em in protection?   Eug. 

Willingly.  
Since 'tis my Lord's Concern, I'll have 'em kept  
Here in my Apartment.   Shatt. 

They are in a Chest,  
Attended by my Men; I will presume  
To send them to ye, only for this night,  
I must aboard to morrow.   Eug. 
So soon?  Shatt. 

Indeed I must.  
Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please  
To greet your Lord by writing, do it to night,  
For I've outstayed the time that is material  
To th' tender of our Present.   Eug. 

I'll instantly about it.  
Send your Chest to me, I'll take care of it,  
And see it safe returned.   Shatt. 
Your Highness faithful Servant.  Exeunt. Enter Queen, Pisanio, and Attendants. A Viol. Queen. 

'Twas but a gust of Passion in the King,  
That like a ruffling Storm shakes the tall Grove,  
Yet in a moment's gone, and all is calm.   Pisan. 
I am much a debtor to your Majesty.  Queen. 

Besides you should consider he is old,  
Peevish with sickness, scarce had lived till now,  
But for these Helps of Nature, this rich Cordial,  
Which I have made through providence to help him:  
This Glass is worth a Kingdom to the Sick;  
I give it thee Pisanio, I give it as an Earnest  
Of future favour; when thou art ill, drink this,  
'Twill conquer the Disease, nay tho' given o'er  
By all Physicians, 'twill renew thy health.   Pisan. 

Your Majesty's too gracious; but like the Sun,  
Display your beams, and shed your kindly blessings  
Upon a withered stump that cannot grow,  
Tho' you can influence; this rich Cordial,  
Tho' of this heavenly nature, can but add  
A minute more to th' snuff of my life's Taper,  
That yet must out at last.   Queen. 

We all must die, my Lord:  
But 'tis no harm sure to prolong a life,  
When living we do well; therefore preserve it,  
'Tis worth your care.— The King's in bed; good night,  
My Lord.   Pisan. 
Blessings still crown your Majesty.  Queen. 
On him or Eugenia; if it work, I'm happy.  Exit. Pisan. 

There is a mystery in her tide of Favours,  
Heaven will not let me know: She always hated me,  
'Cause I misliked her Son, yet now showers down  
All Kindnesses, commends me to the King, taketh care  
Of my health, and gives me here a Cordial to preserve it.  
But why may not all this be as a hook and bait,  
To get me from my Element of Honesty?  
Ha, it is, it must, I have it! Ha! beware then,  
And tho' in Exile, show thou lov'st Ursaces,  
That good, that brave young man; I wish Eugenia  
Deserve him; I have some fears I saw a Stranger,  
A tall, hot-blouded, fluttering Fellow,  
An hour ago, strutting from her Apartment,  
And as he went, the perfumed Pulvillio left a scent behind him,  
Enough to choke a Civet-Cat: I always thought her innocent,  
Pray Heaven she prove so; for if the Woman's  
Fickle Devil once seize her,  
Like a huge Stone she rowls the steepy Hill,  
Not to be stopped by Conscience, Force, or Skill.   Exit.  

SCENE IU.  Discovers Eugenia in Bed; a Lady waiting; a Chest standing by. Eugen. 
WHo's there— Clarina?  Clarin. 
Yes, Madam.  Eugen. 
What hour is't my Dear?  Clarin. 
Past Twelve above a quarter.  Eugen. 

I have read three hours then.  
My Eyes are weak;  
Pray then go to Bed:  
Indeed I trouble you; but leave the Candle burning,  
And if thou think'st on't, bid my Woman call me  
At five a Clock: Good night, Sleep seizes me; Sleeps.  
To thy protection I commend me Heaven.   Exit Clar. Enter Shattillion from the Chest; a Table-book. Shatt. 

All's still as Death, and hushed as Midnight silence:  
Now the Crickets sing, and mortal wearied Sense  
Repairs itself by rest. Lewd Tarquin thus  
Did softly tread and tremble, ere he wakened  
The Chastity he wounded. Oh Soul of Beauty!  
Sure none but I could see thee thus, and leave thee  
Thus in this lovely posture. But no more;  
I've other business. Ihill all my Blood,  
Ye Powers, and make me cold to her Allurements:  
This is no loving minute; Come, to my design:  
To note the Chamber: Here I'll write all down;  
Such and such Pictures; there the Window; such  
The adornment of her Bed; the Arras Figures:  
Why such, and such, and the Contents o'th' Story.  
Ay but some natural Notes about her Body,  
Above ten thousand meaner Witnesses, She stirs, and he starts back.  
Would testify to enrich my Inventory.  
What's there, a Bracelet on her Arm? 'Tis so.  
Now sleep thou Ape of Death, lie dull upon her;  
And be her Sense but as a Monument,  
Thus in a Chapel lying. Fortune befriend me;  
'Tis mine, and this will witness outwardly,  
As strongly as the Conscience does within,  
To th' torture of her Lord: On her left Breast,  
A Mole Cinque, spotted like the Crimson drops  
In the bottom of a Cowslip: Here's a Voucher  
Stronger than ever Law could make; this Secret  
Will force him think I've picked the Lock, and stolen  
The Treasure of her Honour. No, now I have enough:  
To th' Chest again.  
Swift, swift ye Dragons of the Night; loved Phospher,  
Return the welcome day, I lodge in fear,  
Tho' there's a heavenly Angel, Hell is here.   Gets into the Chest Enter Cloten, Gentlemen, Silvio, Musicians and Dancers. Clot. 

I Gad this damned Armour is plaguy troublesome:  
Does it become Florio? Ha! Do I look like one  
That could slay my ten thousand in a morning, and  
Never sweat for't? Have I the sour Look of a Hero?   Silvio. 

Your Look will cause more wonder than fear, my  
Lord; you are too young to be very terrible.   Clot. 

Nay I know I should look more like a Warrior,  
If I were not so handsome; Pox on't, I have  
Looked so clear ever since I took Physic last,  
That Gad I'm afraid people begin to think I paint.   Silvio. 
They often look smiling on you, I confess.  Clot. 

Come, begin then, first play and then sing; you shall  
Charm her with your Fingers, and you with your Tongue,  
Whilst I, God Mars, brandish my Weapon; and if  
Tonguing, fingering and fighting, don't please her,  
The Devil's in her.   Flutes and a Song here; a Lady looks out. Lelia. 
My Lady is rising Sir, she hears your Music.  Clot. 

Ud so, she peeps through the Window yonder now.  
The Dance, the Dance.   Enter Eugenia and Clarina. 

She comes; away all and leave me to her. Exeunt.  
Good morrow to the radiant Queen of Beauty;  
Fierce Mars in Field with Sword and Shield yields  
Thee the time o'th' day.   Eugen. 
I am covetous of thanks Sir, and scarce can spare 'em,  Clot. 

Gad that's a little morose tho', to a Deity of my  
Valour and Quality.   Eugen. 

It suits my Humour Sir: but pray why thus in Armour?  
You amongst all men in my opinion,  
Need not Burlesque yourself.   Clot. 

Burlesque? Now she mauls me with her hard words.  
Madam, I love and honour you in plain terms; pray  
Give your consent, and let's be married; your Heroes hate delays.   Eugen. 
Married, what to such a Figure?  Clot. 

Figure? Why I'm a Lord, and the Queen's my Mother,  
As inconsiderable a Figure as you make me; Gads, that's  
More than a banished Fellow of your Acquaintance can  
Pretend to, since you go to that.   Eugen. 

That banished Fellow is a God, when balanced  
With your weak merit; I swear his meanest  
Garment that ever touched his Body, is more dear to me  
Than the life's service of a hundred Cloten's.   Clot. 
His Garment? A Plague, what his Shirt?  Eugen. 

Ha! my Bracelet lost, my dear Lelia?  
Run to my Woman instantly.   Clot. 
His Garment did you say?  Eugen. 

I am sprighted with a Fool, frighted and angered worse:  
Bid her, Clarina, search for a Bracelet, that too  
Casually hath left my Arm;  
I would not lose it for a King's Revenue;  
I think I saw't this morning; sure I am,  
Last night 'twas on my Arm, I kissed it;  
I hope it is not gone to tell my Lord,  
That I kiss aught but him.   Exit Clar. Clot. 

His Shirt, what his contaminated Shirt,  
Preferred before my Service? I'll be revenged;  
I'll not take this; by jove, I'll tell your Father.   Exit Clot. Eugen. 

Daily to live thus tortured by this Fool,  
Is double misery; therefore I'm now resolved  
To free myself: The way is thus contrived;  
I'll steal from Court in a disguise; Pisanio  
I know will stand my Friend through his Life's hazard,  
And never shrink at danger: This once done,  
With joy I'll meet my dearest Lord in Exile,  
Feed him with Love, and sweeten all his Cares  
With soft Embraces; then each happy night,  
Fancy a Palace of a poor Retreat,  
And slight the inconstant Glories of the Great.   Exit.   

ACT III.  

SCENE II.  Enter Ursaces and Beaupre. Beau. 

WEll, my brave Friend, what think you of your Wager?  
Shattillion must by this be coming back.   Ursa. 

A Coxcomb as he went. Ha, ha! Would I were  
As certain to win the King again, as I am  
Confirmed— her Honour is secure.   Beau. 
Hear you no News to day?  Ursa. 
Not I: Have you any?  Beau. 

Yes, and of moment: I was just now informed,  
That Caius Lucius, sent by great Augustus,  
Is going with an Embassy to Britain,  
Commission'd to demand retarded Tribute,  
And I fear,  
Your King will sooner gratify his Message,  
Than enrage our warlike Romans, whose  
Late Conquest lives yet fresh in his memory.   Ursa. 

I am not of your mind, but rather do believe,  
(Statesman though I am none, nor like to be)  
That this will prove a War.   Enter Shattillion. Beau. 
By all that's good, Shattillion.— See Sir.  Ursa. 

The swiftest Racers posted you by Land,  
And Winds in all the corners kissed your Sails  
To make your Vessel nimble.   Beau. 
Welcome Sir.  Ursa. 

I hope the briefness of your Answer made  
The speediness of your Return.   Shatt. 

Your Lady, Sir,  
Is faith the fairest that I ever looked on.   Ursa. 

And therewithal the best, or else her  
Beauty is but a shadow, or like a painted  
Tulip, for nothing good but show.   Shatt. 
Here are Letters for ye.  Ursa. 
Their tenure good, I trust.  Ursa reads. Shatt. 
'Tis very likely.—  Beau. 

Is Caius Lucius, Ambassador from the  
Emperor, expected yet in Britain?   Shatt. 

He was talked of— but I had other business  
There than to mind News.   Ursa. 

All is well yet.  
Sparkles that Stone as it was wont Sir, or is it  
Too dull for you to wear?   Shatt. 

If I had lost it,  
I should have lost the worth of it in Gold;  
But I'll make a Journey twice as far,  
T'Enjoy a night of such sweet shortness,  
As was mine in Britain.— Sir, the Ring  
Is won.   Ursa. 
The Stone's too hard to come by.  Shatt. 
Not at all, your Lady being so easy.  Ursa. 

Why sure you will be wiser than to make  
Your loss your sport; I hope you know Sir, we  
Must not continue Friends.   Shatt. 

Faith Sir, we must,  
If you keep Covenant, had I not brought  
The knowledge of your Mistress home, I grant  
We were to question farther; but I now  
Profess myself the winner of her Honour,  
Together with your Ring, and not the wronger  
Of her or you at all, having proceeded  
But by Agreement.   Ursa. 

If you can make't appear  
You have enjoyed her in her Bed, my Hand and  
Ring is yours; if not, my Sword must right the  
Wrong done to her Chastity.   Shatt. 
Chastity? ha, ha!  Ursa. 

Ha, ha! Why is her sacred part become so tainted,  
That 'tis but worth your Fleer?   Shatt. 
I am sorry to confess it, Sir.  Ursa. 

Devils and Hell— Confess it?— Come, be  
Brief your Story.   Shatt. 

First, her Bedchamber:  
Where I confess I slept not, for she gave me  
That which was well worth watching; it was hanged  
With Tapestry of Silk and Silver; the Story  
Was the Meeting of th' Egyptian Queen and  
Anthony, when Cydnus swelled above the Banks  
For pride, to bear that glorious Hero  
And his Mistress, that gave the World  
For Love.   Ursa. 

This is nothing;  
For I perhaps, or any other asked,  
Might tell you thus much.   Shatt. 

More Particulars  
Shall justify my Knowledge.   Ursa. 

So they must,  
Or do your Credit injury.   Shatt. 

The Chimney—  
Is South the Chamber, and the Chimney-  
Piece Diana bathing:— Never saw I  
Figures so nearly drawn to Nature;  
The skilful Painter had even outdone  
The Life, so excellent was his dumb Poetry.   Ursa. 

And what of this?  
Let it be granted what you say is true,  
And praise be given to your Remembrance:  
Th' Description of what is in her Chamber,  
Must not say the Wager you have laid.—   Shatt. 

Must it not? Then if you can be pale,  
I beg your leave to air this Jewel.— See  
And presto,— now 'tis up again; it must be married  
There to your Diamond; I beg your pardon, Sir, that  
I play the Juggler with you.   Ursa. 

jove— Is it that I gave her? 'Tis impossible:  
Pray once more let me see it.  
I swear, the very same.  
The Bracelet that I gave her at our parting,  
And damned her with an Oath to keep for ever;  
'Tis that, it must, nay now I know 'tis that.—   Shatt. 

Yes, Sir, 'tis that, the very that, I thank her,  
She took it from her Arm, methinks I see her yet;  
Her pretty action did outsel her gift,  
And yet enriched it too; she gave it me,  
Then smiling, sighed and said, she prized it once.   Ursa. 
May be she plucked it off to send it me.  Shatt. 
She writes so to ye, does she?  Ursa. 

Death and Hell! There's no truth,  
Where there is Beauty; the seeming modest face  
Lies even at the Altar and at Prayers;  
Honour and Love in that false Sex are nothing;  
Profit still breaks their Vows, and Lust their Constancy;  
Pride dams their Beauty, Perjury their Souls.   Beau. 

Have patience, Sir:  
It may be probable she lost it; or  
Who knows but one of her Women being corrupted,  
May steal it from her.   Ursa. 

Very true.  
And so I hope he came by't. Render me, Sir,  
Some noted Mark, some corporal Sign about her,  
More evident than this, for this was stolen.   Shatt. 
By jupiter, I had it from her Arm.  Ursa. 

Hark you, he swears, by jupiter he swears,  
Binds the salacious Villainy by Oath,  
And never blushes for't. Oh Hell of Impudence!  
Is there a Fury hot as Womankind?  
By the Fiends there is not.  
Take it, for thou hast won, I swear thou hast,  
And the most fulsome way; for well I know  
She could not lose it; her Attendants are  
All sworn and honourable, they induced to steal it,  
And for a Stranger; no, he has enjoyed her.   Beau. 
Good Sir, be calm, you may be yet deceived.  Shatt. 

For further satisfying, under her left Breast,  
Worthy my pressing, lies a Mole, right proud  
Of that most delicate Lodging; by my Life  
I kissed it, and it gave me present hunger  
To feed again, though full. You may perhaps, Sir,  
Remember this Stain upon her.   Ursa. 

ay, and it confirms  
Another Stain, big as the dismal Cause,  
Where Devils freeze and burn. Say on, what more?   Shatt. 
Why would you have more?  Ursa. 
Now I think on't; no, for shame speak not the rest.  Shatt. 
By yonder blessed Sun.  Ursa. 

No swearing, Sir.  
If you will swear you have not done't, ye lie,  
And I will kill thee if thou dar'st deny.   Shatt. 
I'll deny nothing.  Ursa. 

Had I her here, I'd tear her into atoms;  
But live she sha'not, nor with whorish grace  
Laugh at my Infamy.— Oh cursed Marriage!  
Thou Hell to th' Mind, and Body's Purgatory.  
Meet we with common Creatures, they are kind,  
Love out their hour with eagerness and Art,  
And if they give Diseases— 'tis their Trade,  
We can expect no less. But th' Marriage-state  
Gives ye a guilded Pill that poisons ye,  
And yet pretends to cure.— The Plague of Life,  
And Curse of our Creation— was a Wife.   Exit. Beau. 

He's quite besides  
The government of Patience.— You have won:  
But come, let's in, and prevent the present rage  
He means against himself.   Shatt. 

With all my heart: I'll follow ye Sir, ha, ha, ha! Exit Beau.  
I am sensible this Lie will occasion some mischief:  
But a Poxoned, I could not for my life but make  
The most on't, when my hand was in. Well, what  
Wit has begun, Policy must preserve; and Tongue  
Be but thou silent, and then let him fist out the  
Matter as well as he can.   Exit. Enter Ursaces with a Letter and Servant. Ursa. 

This Paper signs her death: I know my Friend,  
My good old Friend Pisanio, will dispatch her  
On sight of this— and then she is with the Furies.  
Fly Sirrah with this to the Packet-Boat.   Servant. 
I'm gone, my lord—  Exit. Ursa. 

But why should Nature make us miserable?  
Is there no way for Man to be, but Women  
Must be half-Workers? We are all Bastards,  
And that most venerable Man which I  
Did call my Father, was I know not where  
When I was stamped:  
Yet my Mother seemed  
The Vesta of her time, so did my Wife,  
The Jewel of this Age. Oh damned Hypocrisy!  
Me of my lawful Pleasure she restrained,  
And prayed me oft forbearance, did it with  
A Pudency so Rosy, that sweet object  
Might well have warmed old Saturn, that I thought her  
As chaste as un-sunned Snow, as pure as Virtue,  
And lost myself in my imagined joys.  
That's as the hapless Merchant rash and young,  
Listens to hear the charming Siren's charming Song;  
His Soul is fettered, and he fain would get  
To the fair tempting Creature's rocky Seat;  
And to the Charmers swiftly strives to run,  
Leaps on the fatal Shore, and is undone:  
So tempting Beauty did my Sense betray,  
And faithless Woman stole my Soul away.   Exit.  

SCENE III. A Rocky Cave.  Enter Belarius, Arviragus, and Palladour, in wild Habits. Belar. 

THe Sun, the glorious Monarch of the day,  
Guilds all the Valleys, and with cheerful beams  
Smiles on the Persian, who with prostrate Body  
Now pays his Adoration: This instructs us  
How to admire the Heavens, and bend our minds  
To a Morning's holy Office. Come forth my Sons,  
The blessings of my Age; warmth of my Winter;  
Come forth, and with your customary Duties  
Pay Reverence to Heaven and the Morn.—  
Hail great Divinity.   Arvir. 
Hail gracious Heaven, and our most noble Father.  Palla. 
Hail Heaven, and to the Parent of our Lives.  Bellar. 

Is not this Life better,  
Than servilely attending for a Check,  
Or be obliged to flatter some gross Fool,  
That gives ye Food and Raiment? Is it not richer  
Than thriving in contempt of Honesty,  
Or proudly ruffling in unpaid for Silk;  
When the poor Creditor  
Oft gains the Cap of him he has made fine,  
Yet keeps his Books uncrossed?   Arvir. 

You told us, Sir,  
That Nature stamped all humane-kind like us:  
'Gan they resemble us, and are not honest?   Bellar. 

The Face deceives all;— 'tis the Nation's Plague,  
That he that looks most honest, soonest wrongs ye.   Arvir. 

I hate a Villain as I love Virtue, and could wish  
A season to employ my eager Courage,  
And steep my Javelin in the reeking blood  
Though of a Giant, that had wronged my Father.   Bellar. 

'Twas kind; but thou art young, Arviragus, a twig  
That shak'st with every blast; art like a Woman,  
But that I think thou hast not so much falsehood.   Arvir. 
Why are there Women false too?  Bellar. 

False as Court-Promises;  
Or the young Trader's Oath; but that the fruit of Falsehood  
Gains more than Virtue. You may find by me  
My Honesty undid me; my Body's marked  
With Roman Weapons, and my Fame was once  
First with the men of Note: Cymbeline loved me;  
And when a Soldier was the Theme, my Name  
Was loud as any's: Then was I as a Tree  
Whose Boughs did bend with fruit; but in one night,  
(So ill did Fortune love me) a rude Storm  
Shook down my mellow Blessings, nay my Leaves,  
And left me bare to weather.   Arvir. 

Uncertain Favour: But could you not revenge it?  
Could your great Soul suppress such Injuries,  
Be mildly passive in a Cause so just?  
Now by that Reverend Shape, had I been wronged so,  
I would have sought my Enemies through dangers,  
Numerous as Stars, and though hemmed round with Foes,  
Feast my Revenge, then smiling, took my Fate.   Bellar. 

Arviragus, Thou art too passionate; thy fiery temper  
Will waste thee like a Fever.   Pallad. 
Be silent Brother, and hear my Father's Story.  Bellar. 

My fault being nothing, as I've often told you,  
But that two Villains hating me, swore to Cymbeline,  
I was Confederate with the Romans, so  
Followed my Banishment, and this 20 years  
This Rock and these Demeans have been my World.   Arvir. 

Death to your Honour! Did you part so tamely?  
Did you not kill the Villains? Oh I tremble,  
And all my blood's on fire, at th' apprehension  
Of your disgrace? Such Injuries as these  
Require Blood, Ruin, Desolation,  
Fatal Destruction, Death in thousand terrors.  
Oh Heaven and Earth, not kill him!   Pallad. 
They were killed, were they not, Sir?  Bellar. 

They were, tho' not by me. But come, the day grows old,  
Now up to th' Mountains, 'tis the Hunter's language,  
And he that strikes the Venison first shall be the  
Lord o'th' Feast: Away, I'll meet you in the Valleys.   Pallad. 

Come Brother, I lodged a stately Stag last night,  
A Pollard that has newly cast his head; let's go  
And chase him, he is our Feast.   Arvir. 

No, I have a nobler Game: A Forest Boar  
Last night did cross my way, and staring on me,  
Grinding his foaming Tusks, roared and fled;  
My Javelin I swiftly darted at him,  
Which glancing from his Shoulder cleft the ground,  
And Night opposing with dark shades, I lost  
What now will find and conquer.   Exeunt Bro, Bellar. 

Heaven protect ye.  
How hard it is to hide the Sparks of Nature:  
These Boys know little they are Sons to th'King,  
Nor does their Father dream they are alive.  
They think they are mine, and tho' bred up thus meanly,  
They think and do like Princes.  
Oh Cymbeline, Heaven and thy Conscience knows,  
Thou didst unjustly banish me, for which  
At three and two years old I stole thy Children,  
Thinking to take from thee a Successor,  
As thou my Lands from me; 'tis a Revenge  
Pleases my Age. Now to my brace of Princes,  
Who swifter than two Roes leap o'er the Hills,  
And in their speedy Chase outstrip the Winds.   Exit. Enter Pisanio and Eugenia in men's clothes. Pisanio has a Letter in's hand. Pisan. 

How— Of Adultery, and with a Gallian?  
Then all my Fears prove true, and that tall Fellow  
I once saw with her, proves the Villain I doubted.  
Oh perjured Creature!   Eugen. 

This is a strange wild melancholy Place;  
Good my Lord, how far is't now to Milford?  
Why do you shun me so? My Legs are weary  
In striving to o'ertake ye: Alas I know the trouble  
I bring upon you! But for pity's sake  
Reflect not on it now. You went this morning  
To meet the Post with Letters; my heart pants,  
I hope there's no ill News.   Pisan. 

Oh Woman, Woman!  
Who ere could learn thy deep Philosophy,  
Or fathom thy unsounded Sea of Graft?  
That Look of hers has power to cause sound Faith  
Revolt, and make men fancy her a Saint.  
This Letter proves a Devil.   Eugen. 
What Letter's that? Is't from my Lord?  Pisan. 

From him that was your Lord:  
Read it, and when you have done, prepare to die.   Eugen. 
To die? Good Gods, for what?  Pisan. 

Read there, and blush instead of growing pale;  
The Crime will give occasion.   Eugen. reads. 

— Pisanio, My Wife has damned herself, and  
Played the Strumpet in my Bed: (Oh gracious Heaven!)  
The testimonies whereof lie bleeding in me, and a  
Fluttering Gallian is more grateful to her than  
Her unhappy Husband. I write this from  
Proofs, as strange as my Griefs; therefore  
Kill her, if thou lov'st me, and send a Handkerchief  
Dipped in her blood: That done, my Interest here shall  
Secure both thy Life and Fortune. Ursaces'.  
I'll kiss thy Name although it brings me death,  
A cruel death to th' Innocent. Oh my Fortune!   'Swounds. Pisan. 

Why there now.  
There is another Fetch of female Policy,  
This Swooning: I have known a Woman swoon  
At the puking of her Monkey, or feign sorrow  
To see her Husband's Nose bleeds Craft, Craft, damned Craft:  
I'll not believe'um. Oh she comes again!   Eugen. 

False to his Bed? What is it to be false?  
To lie in watch there, and to think of him;  
To weep 'twixt hour and hour: If Sleep charge Nature  
To break it with a frightful Dream of him,  
And cry myself awake; can this be Falsehood?   Pisan. 

Weak Excuses.  
You ill plead Innocence, when your virtuous Lord  
Defames you thus by Letter, and has proof  
Of your detested Crime; for well I know,  
He would not write this without good assurance.   Eugen. 

Yes, any thing to please his new-found Mistress,  
That basely reaps the harvest of my Love.  
men's Vows are womens' Traitors; and as Sinon,  
That perjured Wretch, that cunning flattering Greek,  
By weeping scandaled many a holy Tear;  
So does Ursaces by his broken Oaths,  
The Faith of all Mankind.   Pisan. 

And you by Levity,  
The virtue of your Sex. Kneel therefore, and pray,  
Or unprepared receive your Fate.   Draws. Eugen. 

I swear  
I am not guilty, yet do not wish to live, Kneels.  
Ursaces' being false. Come, strike my Lord,  
Strike the innocent Mansion of my Love, my heart,  
And give a hapless, much wronged Woman, rest,  
As lasting as her woes.   Pisan. 
Do you not fear?  Eugen. 
My grief has made me past it.  Pisan. 

Die then, lest it return; it wonot be:  
Methinks some Genius hinders my rash Arm,  
And blames my cruel purpose.   Eugen. 

Make not my Death your Sport,  
But do a speedy justice for your Friend,  
And tell my Lord, when I am laid in Earth,  
He then may revel quietly.   Pisan. 

I cannot do't,  
And I'll attempt no farther. If she is false,  
Let Heaven punish her; I'll leave her to its mercy,  
And with some bloody token greet her Lord,  
As if I had performed the horrid Action.  
Madam, I pity you, and through that passion  
Resolve to save your Life: But from this moment  
Expect no further service; for Heaven forbid,  
The least grain of my Love should fall on her,  
Whose blameful Levity wronged my dearest Friend.  
Thus than I turn away, and all alone  
Within this gloomy melancholy Desert,  
Leave you to Fortune: If you are innocent,  
That Innocence protect you; but if guilty,  
As I much doubt you are, let Thunder  
Punish the hated Falsehood.— Fare ye well.   Eugen. 

Stay, dear my Lord; Oh do not leave me so,  
So lost, so comfortless!   Pisan. 
No tears shall stop me; there's too much of Woman in 'um.  Eugen. 

Alas I know not where I am! The Place  
Is ruthless, wild and uninhabited;  
No friendly Path leads to a neighbouring Village,  
But all untrod and savage, like the Covert  
Of some rude satire; here only Nettles grow, and Ivy  
That clings to th' dismal Ewe; and in yond Rock,  
The dreadful spotted Toads and poisonous Serpents  
Will hourly fright me with their Croaks and Hisses.  
Ah do not leave me in this horrid Place,  
For I shall die with Fear!   Pisan. 

I must be gone,  
Tho' her words touch me strangely.   Aside. Eugen. 

I shall be starved too. Recall, recall Humanity,  
And let that aged Breast bear tender Nature:  
Let th' Oath of Knighted, charm ye not to suffer  
A wretched Princess famish in a Desert.   Pisan. 

The Summer-fruit that now jades every Bush,  
Makes vain that Fear. To help ye a little,  
Take here this Glass, I had it from the Queen,  
What's in't is precious; when you're sick, a dram on't  
Will drive away Distemper. Farewell; my heart  
Bleeds for ye, although your abhorred Crimes deserve no pity.   Exit. Eugen. 

Ye mighty Powers, that sway yond glorious Heaven,  
Rise from your awful Thrones, look down and pity  
A wretched Innocence; for well ye know,  
I'm guiltless, and deserve not this Barbariety,  
Tho' more than Scythians cruel. Poor Eugenia,  
Where wilt thou fly for Succour? Home is fatal:  
If to my Lord; why he has sent to kill me.  
Too cruel Husband of a Wife so faithful.  
Oh wretched state!  
Oh Misery! If Virtue be thus used,  
How are the vicious punished? What shall I do,  
And whither shall I turn? As some poor Slave,  
Accused of Crimes which he had never done,  
Is from his angry Patron's Favour thrown.  
Hated although he faithfully did serve,  
Is cast on some wild Beach to pine and starve.  
In vain bemoans himself, and makes defence,  
In vain sighs, weeps, and tells his Innocence.  
Sits sadly on some Rock, his Eyes do flow,  
Mourns his hard Fate, but knows not where to go.  
So I unskilful what strange Course to run,  
Must perish here, by faithless man undone.   Exit.  
The End of the Third Act.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE ay.  Enter Queen, Cloten, Clarina, Jachimo, Aurelia, and Attendants. Queen. 

THou seed of Mischief, young Practitioner  
In th' Art of Treachery, how didst thou dare  
To conceal this devilish Secret,  
No less than the disturbance of a Nation?  
But in thy death I'll straight revenge th' Affront.   Clar. 

Oh do not fright me with the name of Death!  
But look with pity, Madam, on my tears,  
And see a wretched Virgin beg for Life:  
So may your Reign be prosperous, so your Beauty  
Still fresh and heavenly, as your mercy flows  
In showers of tender pity on my youth.   Cloten. 

Pity? Ay, let me have her, I'll show pity on her  
Youth; Gad, I'll first make my Footman ravish her,  
And then have her hanged.   jachimo. 

And why your Footman, my Lord? I hope you have  
Other Friends about you that will do her that kindness.   Queen. 

I have considered now she shall not die so well,  
But banished, live to prolong her misery,  
And none shall help her, upon pain of Death.  
My Lord jachimo, to you I give the Wretch,  
Use her as she deserves: Hence hated Harpey.   Clar. 

Nay kill me now, and I will think you kind;  
Let me not be a prey to his wild Lust.   Queen. 
Away with her, I will not hear a word.  jachimo. 

You'll like me better in the Country, Madam;  
Come, come, there's no remedy.   Drags her out. Clar. 
No spark of Pity; help, help.  Cloten. 

Stop her Mouth, away with her; I'll go and  
Dispatch a small Affair, and follow thee.—   Exit. Queen. 

I've been too slow in executing vengeance,  
Too dull and cold; had I been diligent,  
I could have stopped her posting toward Gallia,  
And sent her Post to the Furies. Who's that comes yonder?   Aurel. 

The King, Madam, and by his actions seems  
In a high rage.—   Queen. 
I'll whet it to a madness.  Enter King, Lords and Guards. King. 

Go search the Country round, and bring her back:  
Send out more Horses; let every Town and Village  
Be narrowly surveyed, each House, each Cottage,  
Caves, Grottoes, nay the very clefts of Rocks.  
Seek and return me this rebellious Fugitive,  
Or lose your Monarch ever.   Queen. 

Send to Milford,  
If you'll succeed: We hear now she's gone to ship  
For Gallia, to meet her Love in Exile.   Enter a Captain. Capt. 

I come to inform your Majesty, that the  
Beacons near to Milford-Haven are fired;  
And the Post just come declares,  
The Roman Army's landed there,  
Led on by Gaius Lucius.   King. 

Summon all the Captains,  
And give strict Order that the Troops be ready  
With the next Sun. I'll to the Field in person,  
And with my presence animate the Soldiers.  
Away, and sound to War; draw up your Infantry:  
We'll timely march, and scourge this haughty Roman: Oh  
Eugenia! were't thou here, I'd fear no Foe.   Exeunt.  

SCENE II. The Cave.  Enter Eugenia. Eugen. 

GOod Heaven!  
No Succour yet: I'm tired with wandering,  
And saint with hunger. Ah some kind Silvian God,  
That rul'st these Groves, rise from thy mossy Couch,  
And with thy hoard of Summer wholesome Fruits,  
Preserve an innocent Lady from sharp Famine!  
I saw an Appletree in yonder Thicket,  
On which eager to feed, as I drew near it,  
A large grown Serpent from the hollow root,  
Opposed my raging hunger, and instead of pitying  
My pale and pining Looks, with flaming Eyes,  
And dreadful Hisses, like the Hesperian Dragon,  
Frighted me from the place; the very Trees, I think,  
Take part with cruel man. Ha! what gloomy Place is this?  
Here is a Path to't; sure 'tis some savage Hold.  
Hoa, who's there?  
If any thing that's civil, speak and help  
A wretched Creature; but if savage,  
Be speedy in my death. No Answer; then I'll enter.  
Now Mercy, Heaven.   Exit. Enter Bellarius and Palladour. Bellar. 

I've haunched the Stag, and hung his Quarters up  
The backside of the Cave, and when your Brother comes,  
We'll make our Feast.   Horn within. Palla. 

Hark, I think I hear his Horn; let's go and  
Meet him, he has ventured hard to day, it may  
Be the wild Boar has hurt him too.   Bellar. 
Heaven forbid, my Boy.—  Exeunt. Re-enter Eugenia with Meat, eating and lifting up her hands. Eugen. 

Blessed be this poor Retreat; for ever blessed  
The Steward of this Feast, that brings me comfort,  
And saves me from a miserable Fate. Oh Heaven!  
How sweet is this course Bare, this little morsel,  
Which in prosperity my lavish hand  
Would have profusely thrown away to Dogs?  
How dearly does it relish now? How covetous am I  
Of each least Bit? Pardon great Providence:  
We are ignorant of ourselves, till Miseries  
Purge our corrupted Natures, and Want, rare Artists,  
Moulds us to sense of our Mortality.   Eats and drinks. Enter Bellarius, Palladour, and Arviragus, with a Boar's Head. Bellar. 

Welcome Arviragus; welcome my young Hero,  
Let me embrace thee.   Pallad. 

Welcome dear Brother, I congratulate your Conquest,  
I see you shun no danger.   Arvir. 

Danger? 'tis my Pleasure:  
I would not give a minute for a Victory,  
Unless by hazard sweetened; there's the bliss,  
The proof of Valour.— This very Boar to day,  
Foaming through rage, with mighty force rushed on me,  
And ere I could avoid, threw me to th' ground;  
When angry at my fall, I spurned him from me,  
Rose quick, and with my Javelin pierced his heart.   Bellar. 

Thanks Heaven for thy Escapes. Come Palladour,  
Your Brother to day is Master of the Feast;  
We'll play the Cook and Servant. How now, what's here?   Palla. 
What's the matter, Sir?  Bellar. 

Stand back a little:  
But that he eats our Victuals, I should think  
He were a Fury.   Palla. 
jupiter— What is't?  Arvir. 

An Angel, by my Soul; or else at least  
Some Rural Deity.   Bellar. 
A pretty Boy, a very Cupid: Hold, it's going to speak.  Eugen. 

Good Master, hurt me not.  
Before I entered here I called, and thought  
To have begged or bought what I have took: Indeed  
I have stolen nothing, nor would not, though I had found  
Gold strewed i'th' Floor; Here's money for my Meat: Kneeling.  
I would have left it on the Board as soon  
As I had made my Meal, and then departed,  
With humble thanks and prayers for the Provider.   Bellar. 
Money— sweet Youth.  Arvir. 

Let Gold and Silver, the Dirt o'th' Earth, be prized  
By such as worship dirty Gods, not us.   Eugen. 

I see you are angry;  
But know, if you kill me for my fault, I should  
Have died, had I not made it.   Palla. 
With what a modest innocence he speaks?  Arvir. 
And what a rosy face he has?  Bellar. 
Whither are you going?  Eugen. 
To Milford.  Bellar. 

I hope you have done no mischief, and are flying,  
From Justice?   Eugen. 
No, Heaven knows, not I  Bellar. 
What's your Name?  Eugen. 

Fidele, Sir; I have a Kinsman that  
Is bound for Rome; he embarks at Milford Haven,  
To whom being going, I lost my way i'th' Woods,  
And almost pined with hunger,  
Am fallen in this offence; pray pardon me,   kneels and weeps. Bellar. 

Prithee my pretty fellow,  
Think us not Churls, nor measure our good minds  
By this rude place we live in, come, come, thou'rt welcome,  
Heartily welcome, and shalt have better cheer,  
Ere thou departest, and thanks to stay and take it.  
Nay prithee wipe thy eyes: Boys, bid him welcome.  
By jove, there's something in his honest Look,  
That moves my heart with love and pity for him.   Pallad. 

I know not what you feel, but in my breast  
Love gives him large possession; my Genius tells me,  
He's worthy our best Favour. Sir, I embrace ye.   Arvir. 

And I as kindly as I would a Sister,  
Were she distressed as thou art. Welcome, dear Brother:  
I'll call thee so, and would revenge thy wrongs  
With a full heart, knew I the fatal Authors.   Eugen. 

A thousand blessings on you. Oh gracious Heaven!  
Can this be true? Are there such blessings left  
Yet for Eugenia?   Pallad. 
He weeps at some Distress.  Arvir. 

And the clear drops stand on his blushing Cheek,  
As pearly dew on Roses. Come, my sweet Brother,  
You must not be thus sad; we are all your Friends,  
And love you heartily, I do swear.   Embraces. Pallad. 

And I, by yonder Sun; there is methinks  
A sympathy between us.   Bellar. 

For my part,  
I liked him at first sight: Come, welcome, welcome;  
In troth you are too melancholy.   Eugen. 

A small Distemper, Sir:  
'Twill quickly away again.— How courteously they use me?  
And with what honesty express their Love?  
Dear modest Creatures.   Bellar. 

Now Sirs, let's in,  
And dress our Venison; when we have supped, sweet Boy,  
We'll mannerly desire of thee thy Story,  
As far as is convenient.   Eugen. 
I'm obliged to you for Life, Sir.  Arvir. 
Come dearest Brother.  Pallad. 

More loved than the ruddy morn, or the  
Purling Brook, when parched with heat o'th'  
Dog-star, we descend to quench our eager thirst.   Eugen. 

I'm bound to you for ever:  
And now too well I can disprove Report,  
The Country is not savage, but the Court.   Exeunt, they embracing her.  

SCENE III.  Enter Pisanio. Pisan. 

MY Heart throbbs still, my Senses are disturbed too,  
And since I left the Princess in you Court,  
I have not been at rest; sure she's innocent,  
And I and her rash Lord have been abused.  
I'll seek her out,  
And comfort her, for I believe she's innocent.   Exit. Enter Cloten in Ursaces' clothes, and Jachimo dragging in Clarina in a mean Habit. Clar. 

Look on my tears, and let them melt your heart,  
Your rocky hearts, yet harder far than Stone;  
For Stones melt, when relenting Heavens weeps,  
But you grow more obdurate with my tears.   jachimo. 

Tears? Why thou canst not oblige me more than to  
Weep soundly; it makes the flame of Love more  
Vigorous; Oh I like a pass●●●●● Woman in that  
Business extremely! she ha●●●nest ways  
With her.   Clar. 

Think you not on your Souls? Alas, when I am dead,  
As I will ne'er outlive so black a Villainy,  
My Ghost will fright you, your wounded Consciences  
Lash and torment you like a thousand Furies.   Clot. 

Ghost? A pox o'thy Ghost: Prithee art thou such a  
Fool to think we fear the Devil? jachimo, show  
Her the contrary, rouse her, touse her, Boy, I'll  
Do thee an honourable kindness, and pimp for thee,  
For fear of disturbance.   jachimo. 

A very friendly part, faith, my Lord: Come, Madam,  
You and I must be more familiar; nay, nay, no  
Struggling, my heart's a flame, and you must quench the fire.   Clar. 

Rather be burned to ashes, barbarous Wretch; help, help.  
Oh Heaven, send down thy Thunder, dash me to the Earth,  
Rather than suffer this: Help, help.   Enter Pisanio. Pisan. 

What piteous Cry was that? sure 'twas a Woman's voice  
By the shrill sound. Good Gods, what's this I see?  
My Daughter here?   Clarin. 

Mercy— unlooked for: 'Tis he, Oh my dear Father, Runs and embraces him.  
In a blessed minute are you come to save me!   Pisan. 

Ha! Lord Cloten too?  
Then all's discovered, and I'm lost.   Cloten. 

See jachimo, yonder's that old Traitor too luckily  
Fallen into our snare: Go, go, take his Daughter  
From him, and ravish her before his face.   jachimo. 
With all my heart; I'll not lose for a million.  Pisan. 

He comes upon his death that touches her: Base men,  
Have you no humane Nature?   Cloten. 
Does he expostulate? Kill, kill the Slave.  Pisan. 
I first shall see thy death.  Cloten. 

No, Thou shalt never see again; for when I have conquered thee,  
With my Sword's point, I'll dig out both thy eyes,  
Then drag thee to my Mother to be tortured.   jachimo. 
I'll do his business presently.  Fight, Pisanio wounded. Pisan. 

Fly Daughter, fly, whilst my remains of Life  
I render for thy safety.   Clarin. 
Oh save my Father! Heaven save him, save him.  Exit. Fights still, Pisanio kills Jachimo, then falls down with him, and Cloten disarms him. Pisan. 
Thou hast it now, I think.  jachimo. 
A Plague on him, he has killed me. Oh—  Dies. Cloten. 

Cursed Misfortune! He's dead; but I'm resolved to  
Be thy true Prophet however, thou shalt not  
See my death, unless with other eyes.   Puts out his eyes. Pisan. 
Hellborn Fury! Oh—  Cloten. 

So, now smell thy way out of the Wood, whilst  
I follow thy Daughter, find her, and cut her piecemeal:  
I'll sacrifice her to the Ghost of jachimo.   Exit. Pisan. 

All dismal, dark as Night, or lowest Shades,  
The Regions of the Dead, or endless Horror;  
The Sun with all his light now gives me none,  
But spreads his beamy Influence in vain,  
And lends no Glimpse to light my Land of darkness.  
Sure near this Place there lies a Sword, Crawls about to find his Sword.  
I'll try if I can find it. Pitiless Fate,  
Wilt thou not guide my hand? My Wound's not mortal,  
And I shall yet live Ages: True sign of Grief,  
When we do wish to die before our time.  
I'll crawl into some Bush and hide myself,  
Till Fate's at leisure; there  
To the dumb Grove recount my Miseries,  
Weep Tears of blood from Wounds instead of Eyes.   Crawls out.  

SCENE IU.  Enter Bellarius from the Cave. Bellar. 

TUrning my head towards you point o'th' Sea,  
Methoughts I heard a noise of Drums and Trumpets,  
With shouts of men, as of an Army landed:  
Perhaps 'tis so indeed; I know the Romans  
Have long watched an advantage, and would run  
With joy the race great Caesar once begun.   Enter Palladour, Arviragus and Eugenia. Pallad. 
You are not well; pray stay here in the Cave.  Bellar. 
Go you to Hunting, Sons, I'll stay with him.  Eugen. 

I beseech you do not; nay then you'll make me blush,  
To think how much I trouble ye: Let me beg ye,  
Stick to your Journal Course; the breach of Custom  
Is breach of all: I am ill, but your being by me,  
Is not medicinable; Society is no comfort neither,  
To one not sociable: Pray go and trust me here;  
I'll rob none but myself, and if myself,  
The theft's so poor 'tis not worth punishing.   Pallad. 

There's so much virtue in his Love and Actions,  
It more and more does steal away my heart.   Eugen. 

Kind Heaven preserve you both. Oh sacred Providence!  
Who could have thought to find such gentle Creatures  
In a wild rustic Cave, by Nature only taught?  
I am sick still,  
Very sick; now Pisanio I'll taste thy Cordial,  
I never had more cause.   Exit Eugen. Bellar. 
Let's to our Silvian sport. How now, who's that?  Exit. Enter Cloten. Cloten. 

I cannot find this Fugitive; sure the Devil  
Has lent her wings to fly, and cross my purpose.   Cloten. 

Ha! What are you that fly me thus? Some Villain Outlaws?  
I've heard of such.— What Slave art thou?   Arvir. 

A thing more slavish did I ne'er, then answering  
A Slave without a Knock.   Cloten. 
Thou art a Robber: I'll murder thee.  Arvir. 

Ye lie, you won't, you cannot, nor you shan't,  
I'll beat your Brains out first; 'Sdeath, have not I  
An Arm as long as thine, a Heart as big?  
Thy words may appear bigger, but I wear not  
My Dagger in my mouth.   Cloten. 

A plaguy little Whipster this: Why, thou  
Abject Villain,  
Knows me not by my clothes.   Arvir. 
No, I say, how should I?  Cloten. 
Then hear my Name and tremble.  Arvir. 

I tremble at nothing but the Thunder,  
And that I'm sure thou canst not do:  
What's thy Name?   Cloten. 
Cloten, thou Villain.  Arvir. 

Cloten? Then double Villain be thy Name,  
I care not— Were it Toad, Spider, or Adder,  
'Twould move me sooner.   Cloten. 
To thy Confusion know, I am Son to th' Queen.  Arvir. 

I am sorry for't, not seeming so worthy  
As thy Birth.   Cloten. 
Does thou not fear?  Arvir. 

Those that I reverence, those I fear, the Wise,  
All Fools I scourge and laugh at.   Cloten. 

You're witty, are you? but I'll fetch ye out of  
Your Jest presently; Sirrah,  
I'll slay thee with this hand, and when thou  
Art dead,  
Upon the Gates of Ludds-Town set thy Head.   Arvir. 
It stands yet on my Shoulders; come, come on Sir.  They fight; Cloten lets fall his Sword and runs out. Enter Bellarius and Pallador. Bellar. 
No Company's abroad.  Pallad. 
Not a man stirring— You did mistake him sure.  Bellar. 
No, I am firm 'twas he.  Pallad. 

In this Place we left 'um.  
I wish my Brother make good party with him;  
You say he's very strong.   Bellar. 
I have often heard so.  Pallad. 

He looked but like a Fool. But see, our  
Fears may vanish, here comes my Brother.   Enter Arviragus with Cloten's Head. Arvir. 

This Cloten was a Fool, an empty Purse,  
There was no money in't; not Hercules  
Could have knocked out his Brains, for he had  
None; but I think I've stopped his Railing.   Bellar. 
What hast thou done?  Throws the Head down. Arvir. 

Yond grinning Face will inform you.  
I've cut off one Cloten's Head, Son to the Queen,  
He says he is, who called me Villain, who  
Swore he would cut mine off from my  
Shoulders, and set it upon Ludds-Town.   Bellar. 
We are all undone.  Pallad. 

Why, worthy Father, what have we to lose?  
The Law protects not us, why should we fear?  
Arviragus, I love thee like a Brother, but envy much  
Thy Valour in this Action.   Bellar. 
I fear 'twill be revenged.  Arvir. 

With his own Sword he waved against my Throat,  
I hewed it off; I'll throw't into the Creek  
Behind our Rock, and let it to the Sea,  
To tell the Fishes he's the Queen's Son Cloten.  
That's all I care.   Exit Arvir. with the Head. Pallad. 

I'll go and see Fidele;  
I hope he's somewhat better after Sleep.   Exit. Bellar. 

Oh divine Nature, how thou showest thy Power  
In these two Princely Boys! 'tis a wonder  
That an invisible Instinct should frame 'em  
To Royalty unlearned, Honour untaught;  
Civility not seen from others, Valour  
That wildly grows in 'em, but yields a Crop  
As if it had been sowed.   Enter Arviragus. Arvir. 

I have sent Cloten's Clotpoll down the Stream,  
In Embassy to his Mother; his Body lies  
In yonder Thicket.— Ha, that's my Brother's Voice! Cry within.  
Where is he?   Bellar. 
Gone out o'th' Cave just now to see Fidele.  Enter Palladore with Eugenia as dead. Pallad. 

See Brother, see, the pretty Bird is dead,  
That we so well did love.   Bellar. 
Dead? and by Melancholy? this is strange.  Arvir. 

Oh piercing Sight! Thou sweetest, fairest Lily,  
My Brother wears thee now not half so well,  
As when thou grew'st thyself.   Bellar. 
How didst thou find him?  Pallad. 

Just as you see, smiling as in a slumber;  
His right Cheek reposing on a Cushion on the Floor:  
His Arms thus crossed, I thought he slept, and put  
My Hunting-shooes from off my feet, whose rudeness  
Answered my Steps too loud.   Bellar. 

Well, 'tis in vain to mourn, what's past recovery:  
Come Sons, let's lay him in our Tomb.   Arvir. 

Rest there sweet Body of a sweeter Soul, They lay him in the Grave.  
Whilst we lament thy Fate.   Enter Caius Lucius', Captain's and Soldiers, with Drum and Colours. Capt. 

To them the Succours sent from Gaul will join,  
And now are setting forth to cross the Sea,  
And meet you here at Milford.   Lucius. 
What number are they?  Capt. 

At least 10000 and all disciplined,  
Bred to the War, most willing active Spirits,  
That promise noble Service; they are coming  
Under the Conduct of the bold Shattillion,  
Sienna's Brother.   Lucius. 

Oh I know him well, a most methodical Courtier:  
But when d'ye expect 'um?   Capt. 
With the next benefit of Wind.  Lucius. 

This forwardness makes our hopes fair. What News  
Have you from Ludds-Town?   Capt. 

The Queen is dead, raging with desperate madness  
For the absence of her Son late strangely lost,  
And as they fear is murdered. But I hear the old King  
Comes forward with his Power.   Lucius. 

We shall the sooner meet him;  
And Caesar shall have Tribute, or we'll shed  
Our Roman Blood in Britain. What's here?  
A Boy  
Asleep I think, or dead; let's see his Face.   Capt. 
He is alive, my Lord.  Lucius. 
What art thou, Youth?  Eugen. 

I am nothing; or if something,  
'Twere better I were nothing.   Lucius. 

This Country sure  
Is savage grown: This Morning in yond Wood  
I found an old Man, his Eyes just put out, wounded,  
And freshly bleeding: And not far off from him,  
A tender Virgin, running with Hair dishelved,  
And crying to Heaven for succour; whom straight I seized,  
And carried to my Tent, where now they are.   Capt. 
I saw 'em, and heard since they are of quality.  Lucius. 

Look up, Youth, I'll entertain thee,  
Thou shalt go with me.   Eugen. 
I beseech you, Sir, excuse me.  Lucius. 
By no means; I like thee well, thou shalt be my Page.  Eugen. 

He's going with an Army 'gainst my Father;  
I'th' Battle sure I cannot miss a death,  
Amongst so many Swords. Well, Sir, if I must go.   Lucius. 

Leave soft Grief,  
And bend thy mind to th' War; if thou dost nobly,  
Caesar shall honour thee. March.   Exeunt, Scene shuts upon Cloten's dead Body. Enter Bellarius, Palladore, Arviragus. Pallad. 

We are discovered: Here, Sir, take your Sword,  
And let's adventure out; 'tis much better  
To brave a dangerous Fate, than tamely suffer it.  
Pray let's to th' Army.   Bellar. 

I shall be discovered,  
And then be racked and tortured.   Arvir. 

Do not fear it:  
This is, Sir, not a time for private Feuds;  
Besides the Frost of twenty nipping Winters,  
As many Summer's Heats furrow that Brow  
Which once was smooth: You look not now, my Father,  
As you did then, when lusty Youth and Vigour  
Sat blushing on your Cheek.   Pallad. 

Consuming Time,  
That altars every thing, you cannot doubt,  
Has changed you much from what you were.   Bellar. 

I know it;  
And since your Valours prompt you to the War,  
I'll hazard with good will remaining Life,  
To get you Fame.   Pallad. 

Whilst we have any Life, yours, Sir, shall be in safety.  
Come, Brother, let's to the King's Party, 'tis the noblest way;  
For never shall it be declared hereafter,  
That our first Onset in the Race of Honour,  
Was in ignoble Fight against our Country.   Bellar. 

'Tis honourable Advice, and shall be followed.  
And now methinks I wish to be in Battle:  
Once more, Bellarius, draw thy Sword for Britain,  
This Sword that made the all conquering julius  
Stoop to the Earth, and groveling kiss the Dust,  
When like another Cyclops, the sound stroke  
Made his well-tempered Helm shed sparks of Fire.  
This Sword shall once more know the Toils of War,  
And reek with Victory.   Pallad. 

With Victory?  
Oh Royal Sound, the Prize of honoured Valour!  
Let's on, let's on.   Arvir. 

Methinks my Heart grows bigger,  
And swells within my Breast, to meet the Fame  
My fatal Sword shall purchase. Oh my Father!  
The thought of your famed Deeds so steels my Courage,  
That when I'm full of Wounds, begrumed with Dust,  
Spotted with Blood, and hemmed about with Enemies,  
I shall break through like the young God of War:  
With Blood of Foes the neighbouring Valleys fill,  
Like Lightning scatter, and like Thunder kill.   Exeunt.  
The End of the Fourth Act.   

ACT V.  
Ursaces' Solus. Ursa. 

FRom hollow Rocks and solitary Caves,  
Where the evil Genius hunts the Miserable,  
To mask in Shades, and shun the cheerful Light,  
Wretched Ursaces' back to Britain comes,  
Bearing this bloody witness of his Cruelty:  
Heart-killing Sight! The Blood that stains this Linen,  
Once swelled the Veins of the mildest, fairest, chastest;  
O but not chaste! In that my praise exceeded:  
That Title fatally she lost, and now  
Has paid too dearly for't;— yet divine Heaven,  
Should every one that forfeits Honour, be  
Deprived of Life, thy World would be unpeopled.  
The full fed City-Dame would sin in fear;  
The Divine's Daughter slight the amorous Cringe  
Of her tall Lover; the close salacious Puritan  
Forget th' Appointment with her canting Brother.  
Should rigorous Death punish the venial Error,  
The fashion of the World would be abolished.  
How great then is my Crime? I am brought hither  
Disguised amongst the Cavalry, to fight  
Against my Lady's Kingdom.— But 'tis enough, dear  
Britain, I have killed thy Mistress.  
Peace, I'll give no Wound to thee,  
But mourn my fault, and fall in thy defence:  
So some vile Wretch that in his Life has been  
Unhappy, and has done some deadly Sin,  
In Conscience struck, by some good Act does try  
To merit Heaven— make his peace and die.   Exit. Enter King, Lords, and Captains, and the Britain Army at one Door, and Lucius, Shattillion, and the Roman Army at another: Trumpets found a Parley. Cymb. 

It grieves me I have reason, Caius Lucius,  
To meet thee thus in Arms— the Bower of Peace;  
For my now frozen and unwieldy Age,  
Were fitter than the noise Tents of War,  
Were Honour not concerned.— Say therefore, General,  
Is there yet left a way, our Honour safe,  
That we may end the Difference without Battle?   Lucius. 

The Tribute due to Caesar being paid,  
You are in peace, and we'll return to Rome.   Cymb. 

That were ignoble, and not like a King.  
Tho' julius Caesar made a Conquest here,  
And of Casibelan had a Grant for Tribute,  
I'm not obliged to pay it.   Silvio. 

There may be many Caesars,  
Ere such another julius.— Ours is a World by 'tself,  
And the hardy Britain's, Sir, will nothing pay,  
For wearing their own Noses.   Shatt. 

They shall pay,  
If the culled Power of Rome and Gaul can make 'em:  
But we have always noted you hard Britain's,  
As you call yourselves, most valiant in your Talk,  
And know you can run with an unmatched Celerity.   Cymb. 

Now by my Crown,  
You shall not buy us cheaply, nor shall this Isle,  
That stands like Neptune's Park, paled round with Oaks,  
And fenced with roaring Waters, ere pay Tribute,  
While Cymbeline's alive.   Lucius. 

Then for Augustus, thus I bid defiance: Draws.  
Caesar who has more tributary Kings,  
Than thou domestic Slaves, and in his Name,  
Bid thee prepare for Battle.   Cymb. 

I take thee at thy word: Charge, charge my Friends;  
This is your happy hour: Draw all your Swords,  
And fight for Liberty, Cymbeline and Britain.   Lucius. 
For Honour, Rome and Caesar, we.  Shatt. 
Charge, charge there.  Shout here. The King draws within his Troops, and the Armies engage; the Britain's are beaten back, and the King taken: then Enter Ursaces, Bellarius, Pallador, Arviragus, to his Rescue; the King falls; Ursaces bistrides him. Ursa. 
Make good the Breach, whilst I defend the King.  Bellar. 

Stand Britain's, we have the advantage of the Ground,  
The Enemies disordered.   Pallad. 
Stand, stand and fight.  Arvir. 
All Plagues pursue 'em, do they run already?  The Britain's return and fight, and the Romans are beaten off; Bellarius, Palladore, and Arviragus follow them; Manent the King, and Ursaces, and Britain's. Cymb. 

My Life's indebted to thy Valour. Speak,  
What art thou? for I know thee not.   Ursa. 
A Gentleman, and the Lover of the King.  Cymb. 

Thou art brave, and well deserv'st a Monarch's Favour.  
The Battle ended, see me in my Tent,  
Where I'll load Honours on thee.   Exit King and Britain's. Ursa. 

Fetters rather.  
Did he but know 'twas I that killed Eugenia;  
O dreadful Sound! But stay, there is a deed  
Must yet be done.— I'm tardy.— Now for Vengeance.   Exit. Enter Eugenia, Lucius, and Shattillion. Lucius. 

Inconstant Chance wavering, and Woman-like,  
Smile once more on us.— Was ever day thus changed!  
Those that within this hour ran from our Swords,  
Like fearful Hares before the full-mouthed Cry,  
Now turn, pursue, and chase us from the Field.  
Oh Devil Fate.   Shatt. 

The old Man and his Sons fought like Devils,  
There was no coming near 'em; they have peppered  
All my Taper-Gallians, there's hardly one of 'em left  
To give his Mistress an account of Valour.   Eugen. 

This is that Devil Shattillion, now I know him,  
The fatal Cause of all my Miseries.   Shatt. 

They tossed me up and down the Field like a Football,  
I may thank my activity for my Life.   Shout within, Lucius. 

Hark, they pursue us,— and all is lost.  
Away, Boy, from the Field, and save thyself;  
Now Friends kill Friends, and there's no hope of safety.   Shatt. 
Mine is secure, I've a Project for't.  Lucius. 
O treacherous Fortune!  Exit. A Flourish of Trumpets; then Enter Silvio, Bellarius, Palladore, and Arviragus: Bellar. 

Let us pursue you scattered Troops, where Lucius  
Seeks safety by base flight;— when he is taken,  
The day's our own, and haughty Rome must bow  
To th' British Power.— Come Sons,— my dear Arviragus,  
Thou hast shown thyself the Hero of the Battle.   Arvir. 

I am not fleshed enough; Come, follow, follow,  
I will myself take Lucius.   Exeunt. Enter Shattillion disguised like a Britain. Shatt. 

Let Roman Fools give up themselves to Bondage,  
While I by Wit gain Freedom.  
Thus habited like a Britain, have I passed  
Through all their Troops,— unseen or unsuspected,  
And now with happy speed design for Milford,  
From thence to ship to Gallia,— where in safety  
I'll laugh at this Contrivance, and with pleasure boast  
Of my kind Fortune.   Enter Ursaces and Britain's; Beaupre meeting him, Shattillion starts. Ursa. 

Disguises cannot save thee, I know thee, Devil,  
By more than vulgar Signs.   Shatt. 

The very Devil has not a blacker Fiend, that I  
Would sooner shun, than thee; but come, thou  
Know'st me, what's the Result on't?   Ursa. 
Death and Damnation.  Shatt. 

A kind of an odd Reward for a man of my Parts:  
But I'm of a Religion, Sir, that tells me,  
My Life's not in your power, if taken nobly.   Ursa. 

Not in my power? Yes,  
If Heaven swerve not from its awful Justice,  
I'm sure I have. Think on Eugenia,  
O Devil think on her! She that was once  
The dear loved Genius of this happy Country;  
The brightest beam of Light that graced the World,  
Made by thee black as the Shades of Hell,  
Where now she wanders in the Vale of Horror.  
Remember her, and let thy Soul despair.   Shatt. 
Ha! Is Eugenia dead then?  Ursa. 

Dead? Why didst thou think I was so tame a Fool,  
To let her live after her horrid Crime?  
Couldst thou imagine I would quench my Thirst  
At that vile Spring, where the sordid Bruit had trampled,  
And turned the crystal Current into Mud?  
Or let the spotted Serpent sting again,  
That had already poisoned me?   Shatt. 

If thou hast killed her, thou art miserable  
Above Mankind.   Ursa. 
I am, and by thee made so.  Shatt. 
She was innocent, rash man.  Ursa. 
Ha!  Shatt. 

Innocent, I swear, as Angels; chaste as the Phoenix,  
And was indeed the Phoenix of the World,  
And never to be equalled.   Ursa. 

These are Lies which more perplex my Soul,  
Than thou that mak'st 'em, and Riddles shan't  
Save your Life, Sir.   Shatt. 

Now I dare fight with thee  
With a full heart.— Thou rash, thou wretched Creature,  
Thou hast killed the only best of all her kind,  
Eclipsed a Planet Heaven in mercy gave,  
To bless and beautify the World.   Ursa. 

Still Riddles:— Doubts to plague me; but I'll try  
Whether in Death you'll have the gift of Lying.  
Stand you apart.   To the Britain's. Shatt. 

Come on, and summon all thy skill and vigour,  
For I will meet thee, fell as the hungry Lioness  
In the wild Desert, roving for her prey.   Ursa. 

I'm pleased to know, that we with equal rage  
Do play our parts in this bold Scene of death,  
Occasioned by dishonouring a Princess:  
That Crime will dam thy Soul when Life is lost,  
Which thus I offer to Eugenia's Ghost.   Fight, Shatt. falls. Shatt. 

Thou hast performed thy word:  
My warm Blood  
Flows from my Heart, and my departing Soul  
Swims on the surface of the purple Gore:  
O too small recompense for Eugenia's wrongs,  
That blessed, that innocent Princess!   Ursa. 
O Heaven!  Shatt. 

Nay thou'lt wonder more anon: Know then rash  
Credulous Fool, I did betray the Princess.   Ursa. 

Betray? how betray? O speak on;  
For thou art now a Prophet to my sense,  
And all thy words are Oracles? How innocent?  
And how was she betrayed?   Shatt. 

I'll tell the Cause I hate thee, therefore observe me:  
I did belly her Virtue, and by Cunning obtained  
The knowledge of her Apartment and Person.   Ursa. 

By Cunning sayst thou?— Break not yet my Brain;  
Do not distract me till I have heard all:  
Say how by Cunning.   Shatt. 

Cunning that now I hope may chance to dam thee.  
I got myself conveyed into her Chamber, and at dead  
Of night, she innocently sleeping, took view o'th'  
Hangings, Furniture and Pictures, and all which  
When returned to Gaul I told you.   Ursa. 

Horrid and damned Impostor! But say further,  
Speak on thy Soul, how didst thou get that Bracelet?   Shatt. 

There as she slept I cut it from her Arm,  
And viewing nearer, saw the Mole I spoke of.   Ursa. 
And this is true, as thou hast of rest?  Shatt. 

What e'er I hope, rest or unrest, 'tis true. But Oh  
My Soul is wandering to its unknown home,  
My Blood's all Ice!   Dies. Ursa. 

Then am I damned more than the worst of Fiends:  
Heaven keep not now thy Thunderbolt in vain,  
To shoot at Trees, or cleave the marble Rocks,  
But dart it here; here on this wretched Head  
Throw thy swift Bolt, and dash me to the Centre;  
Let Hell devour me quick, the Fiends dissect me,  
Burn, cut me atoms.— O revenge, revenge  
The innocent Eugenia! Here he stands  
That caused her to be murdered; damn him, damn him;  
bath him in molten Glass;— let a Cabal of Furies  
Meet and consult t'invent new Tortures for him,  
And be his Pangs eternal. He comes, ye Fiends,  
Swift as old Lucifer, when first he fell,  
And with this stroke transports himself to Hell.   Offers to fall on his Sword. The Britt. hold. Capt. 

That must not be while we stand tamely by.  
Soldiers, he has confessed he killed  
The Princess; let's bear him to the King.  
Death is too kind a punishment, he merits the worst  
Of Tortures: O horrid Murderer, away with him!   Ursa. 

Let me kneel before thee,  
And thank thee for that Judgement: Thou art wise,  
And 'tis most true that only Death is much too kind;  
I deserve Pains greater than Tongue can utter,  
Or barbarous Policy invent.   Capt. 

Who could imagine so much Villainy  
Could dwell with so much Courage?   Ursa. 

And shall tame lazy Death be all my Torture?  
No, I have yet more Conscience than to hope it.  
Poisons and Flames,  
Racks, burning Iron, and flaming Lead,  
Hot Pincers, Daggers, suffocating Water,  
All, all are nothing, I will myself find greater:  
And as in Lacedaemon, the greatest Villains  
Were by the State made Judges of all Criminals,  
Because they best knew how to weigh and punish;  
So I that know myself, myself will doom,  
By Tortures here out-pain my Hell to come.—   Exeunt.  

SCENE III. Palace backward.  Enter Cymbeline, Bellarius, Palladore, Arviragus, Silvio, Lucius and Eugenia, as Prisoners, Guards, and Attendants. Cymb. 

NOble old Man, and you most worthy pair,  
That Heaven has made preserver of my Honour,  
Let me embrace you: Yet is there a Fourth,  
That in my tide of Thanks deserves large share.  
He that bestrid me, gasping on the ground,  
And like stern Ajax, with his shining Buckler,  
Secured my Life from Storms of Roman Fury,  
Where is he, that I may unclew my grateful Heart,  
To pay the Debts I owe him?   Bellar. 

Since his last Sally he has not been seen,  
Though we have searched among the Dead and Living,  
And much I fear he's lost.   Cymb. 
A Kingdom were too small to buy his Virtue.  Lucius. 

Now great Cymbeline,  
I conjure thee by thy Fortune, grant me a Request:  
Let my poor Boy be ransomed;— never Master had  
A Page so kind, so duteous, diligent,  
So modestly affected to his Master,— nor  
So unwearied in his Service.— Let his Virtue join  
With my Request, which I'll presume your Majesty  
Will soon find in him. He is of this Country,  
And has done no Britain's harm, tho' he has  
Served a Roman.— Save but him, Sir,  
And spare no Life besides.   Cymb. 

Let me see his Face. Ha, what strange Surprise  
Is this! I have seen him somewhere, methinks  
His Features are familiar to me. Boy,  
Thou hast looked thyself into my Favour, live.   Lucius. 
I humbly thank your Majesty.  Pallad. 
It must be the Boy Fidele, I'll speak to the King.  Enter Ursaces. Cymb. 

What, my Preserver?  
Does he then live? You holy Powers, I thank ye:  
Let me embrace thee, thou best, thou bravest man;  
And that I may be grateful for thy service,  
Ask what thou wilt on the King's word 'tis thine.   Ursa. 

Had ever Fiend such mercy? Royal Sir,  
Refer your bounty till you find my merit;  
Know, I am that Ursaces whom you banished,  
For yet you know not how much I deserve.   Cymb. 
Ursaces'! What miracle is this?  Eugen. 
Oh Heaven!  Ursa. 

He Sir? A Basilisk that wounds you to the Soul  
With his contagious Aspect.— Remember Eugenia,  
Your heavenly Daughter:  
Think Sir, O think upon her.   Cymb. 

Ha! where is she?  
Speak, speak: O doubt not but I think of her.   Ursa. 

You do, you must, I know it.— Now then as the Angels  
From glorious lucid Thrones, eternal Mansions,  
Look down and see the damned wallow in horror;  
So without regret or pity look upon me,  
A worser Fiend, worse damned, for worser Reasons:  
I like a sacrilegious Thief broke open  
Virtue's best Temple, and from the shining Altar  
Impiously stole the consecrated Vessel,  
The Gods had treasured up for their own use.   Cymb. 

My blood flows to my heart; say, dost thou mean  
Her Life, her precious Life?   Ursa. 
The best of Lives she lost, and by my Order.  Cymb. 
Then art thou damned indeed.  Ursa. 

Then am I damned indeed? O true Assertion!  
And see I thus submit me to be tortured,  
Thus fall at thy Slave's feet, and beg for justice.  
Be dark, thou Sun,  
And be ye lesser Lights extinguished all:  
Be Nature sick, let Shades surround the World,  
And Order cease, till my Eugenia, the fair, the best Eugenia,  
Be in my horrid torturing Death revenged.   Eugen. 

Shine brighter Sun,  
And all ye happy Stars glimmer for joy,  
At this unlooked for Change. Oh my dear Husband!  
Here is thy Wife, here is Eugenia;  
Once more receive me as the 〈◊〉 of Heaven.   Ursa. 

Oh my Souls Joy! Canst thou e'er pardon me?  
Canst thou forget?   Eugen. 

Heaven knows, with all my heart;  
But let me beg you doubt my Faith no more.   Ursa. 

If I do, may Heaven forsake me ever,  
And thou my better Genius cease to guide me.   Cymb. 

His Love so blinded thee thou hast forgot me?  
Dost thou not know thy Father?   Eugen. 

O my Lord!  
So thrive my Soul, as in my best of Duty  
My heart is vowed to you: Pray pardon me.   Cymb. 
Let this declare I do.  Enter Pisanio, Clarinna. Pisan. 
Where, where's my Lord Ursaces? lead me to him.  Ursa. 

Ha! His Eyes lost, and for my sake I fear:  
Speak good old Friend, whose cruel deed was this?   Pisan. 

'Twas Cloten's; but if you love me, do not pity me:  
For this was I ordained, and well can bear it.  
Where is the Princess? let me kiss her Hand.   Eugen. 

Come not near me, Murderer:  
Thou left'st me in the Desert, and gavest me Poison.   Pisan. 

Poison? May then the swift Lightning blast me,  
If the Box I gave you was not thought by me  
Of precious value; I had it from the Queen.   Eugen. 
Most like it did, for I was dead a while.  Bellar. 
My Boys, there was our Error.  Pisan. 

My Pity swaying over your Command, my Lord,  
I had no heart to kill her.   Ursa. 

'Twas heavenly Mercy; Embraces him.  
For hadst thou done it, O what Misery,  
What Hells had I endured?   Pisan. 

I left her to Heaven's Mercy in a Desert,  
Where after I found Cloten and jachimo,  
Dragging my Daughter with barbarous design,  
In whose defence, bold jachimo I slew,  
And then lost my Eyes by Cloten's Cruelty;  
But what befell him afterwards I know not.   Arvir. 
Then let me end the Story, I killed him there.  Cymb. 

Heaven forbid, brave Youth:  
I would not thy good Deed should be rewarded  
With a fatal Sentence; prithee deny't again.   Arvir. 
Sir, I spoke it, and I did it.  Cymb. 
He was a Prince.  Arvir. 
A most uncivil one.  Cymb. 
Bind the Offender, and take him from our presence.  Bellar. 

Nay then stay Sir, hear me speak;  
First pay me for the breeding of your Sons.   Cymb. 
Breeding my Sons?  Bellar. 

Perhaps I am too bold: Thus bow my Knee then,  
And e'er I rise I will prefer these two;  
Then spare not the old Man. Mighty Sir,  
These two young Gentlemen that call me Father,  
And think they are my Sons sprung from your loins,  
To you are debtors for their Being's.   Cymb. 
Me?  Bellar. 

To you Sir; you are their Parent,  
Their Nurse Euriphele,  
Whom I with Gold corrupted, stole these Children,  
By which I thought myself revenged for Banishment:  
But now they're yours again, and I must lose  
Two of the best Companions in the World;  
All blessing from the kind and bounteous heavens',  
Fall on their heads like Dew, for they are worthy  
To inlay Heaven like Stars.   Cymb. 

Welcome, welcome,  
Ye Pillars of my Age.— O my Eugenia,  
Thou hast lost by this a Kingdom!   Eugen. 

No, my Lord,  
I have got two Worlds by it.   Cymb. 

I'll have no sadness now, this is a day of Joy; Prisoners freed.  
The Prisoners shall be freed, our Enemies pardoned,  
The Streets of Ludds-Town shall with Bonfires shine,  
And all the Temples smoke with Sacrifices.  
Thou art my Brother, so I hold thee ever.   Embraces Bell. Pallad. 

Our Actions, Royal Sir, shall still declare,  
We will not shame our Births.   Arvir. 

Tho' bred up in a Cave,  
Our Thoughts were high as Palaces, and our Souls  
Soared still above our level: For our Valours,  
Let 'em be tried, and if we flinch in Battle,  
Then let some Hero of the bloody Field  
Defame and call us Slaves, not Sons to Cymbeline.   Cymb. 

You are my Nerves, my Sinews, and my Age  
Is firmer now than Youth. Valiant Ursaces,  
Thou too art of our Blood, and by Eugenia  
Claimest a full part: But O beware of Jealousy,  
That worst of Passions, cherished by the blood,  
And nourished by destruction! For what's past,  
Let it be all forgotten.— Love Eugenia;  
The Gods have linked your Destinies together,  
Then now receive her from a Father's hand.   Ursa. 

How like the Accent of some pitying God?  
The King then spoke:  
I swear you have outdone the Deities,  
Given me the brightest Jewel of Perfection.  
O my fair Love! Was ever Joy like mine?  
Did ever Raptures touch a Heart so nearly,  
Or shoot with so much fierceness through the Soul?  
The excess on't is so great, sure it will kill me.  
Thus as some wounded Hero,  
That where most danger was, pressed forward still,  
At last his Life owes to Physician's skill:  
So Love, the blessed Physician of the Mind,  
Heals all my Griefs, immortal Joys I find,  
And Heaven on Earth, whilst my Eugenia's kind.      

THE EPILOGUE.  

OUr next new Play, if this Mode hold in vogue,  
Shall be half Prologue, and half Epilogue.  
The way to please you is easy if we knew't,  
A jig, a Song, a Rhyme or two will do't,  
When you're i'th' vein: and sometimes a good Play  
Strangely miscarries, and is thrown away.  
That this is such our Poet dares not think,  
For what displeases you's a waste of Ink:  
Besides this Play was writ nine years ago,  
And how Times alter, Ladies you best know;  
Many then, fair and courted, I dare say,  
Act hal●●●● out of Fashion, as our Play.  
Besides if you'd consider't well, you'd find,  
Y have altered since ten thousand times, your mind;  
And if your humours do so often vary,  
These in our Comedy must need miscarry;  
For as you change, each Poet moves his Pen,  
They take from you the Characters of Men.  
The Wit they write, the Valour, and the Love,  
Are all but Copies, of what you approve.  
Ours followed the same Rule, but does confess,  
The love and humour of that seasonless.  
And every Artist knows that Copies fall,  
For th' most part, short of their Original.   
FINIS.