EMILIA.  
First Edition.  
London  
〈…〉 for the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉   

To the Only Few.  
I Print not this Play before it is Acted, to make it more Public, but only more Legible for those who are to judge of it; who, if they like it in this Undress, will much more in its Theatrical Habit: And if every one who writes for the Stage, would do the like, the Actors would not vent so many Plays on credit of their Authors, nor the Authors of themselves. Nor is there any danger (Printing it as I do) that it should lose the grace of Novelty, I intending to communicate it only to a few; and I have seen many Manuscripts more public, than this is ever like to be.  
The Plot, I have taken the hint of, from La Costanza di Rosamondo, of Aurelio Aureli, the fittest for our English Stage, and fullest of delightful variety, as I could find in any Foreign Tongue.  
The Writing or Language, I have accommodated to the Persons, Verse; for the more Heroic, and Prose, for the rest, with often allay of this with the other, to make it more flexible, which else would be too stiff.  
For the Rhyme, which is only the finishing of our Verse, and which our English Ears by Custom do so expect, as they will scarcely allow Verses to be complete without it, I will not commend it, because it has so many Potent Enemies; nor condemn it, because it has so many Potent Friends, but leave it to others judgements, as I do all the rest.   

PROLOGUE.  

WE know you expect a Prologue to our Play:  
And for our parts, we know not what to say,  
For some body, we must abuse in it,  
Or else you'll think our Author has no wit,  
And we know none, on whomed can better fall,  
Than on our Poets,— then have amongst them all.  
Some only Prologue Makers are, and they  
But go a snip with him who makes the Play.  
Others write single Scenes, but when it comes  
Toth' making up, all's but loose Ends and Thrums.  
Some write such low and creeping Prose, you'd swear  
They very Reptiles of a Language were.  
Others again (and they're your High Boys, those)  
Do piece an end of Rhyme unto their Prose,  
To make it Verse, as Clowns for greater grace,  
With piece of Taffeta, their Fustians face.  
Then theyare so long and tedious, here you come  
Instead of taking Poppy or Opium:  
Or else, pass time, in Conversation,  
With Damsels of the Pit, till th' Play be done.  
Lastly, Their characters they quite mistake,  
Whilst they their valiant Man, a Hector make.  
Their Prince the Fool o'th' Play, and Noble Woman  
As Ranting and as Ramping as Dol Common.   

Now Gentlemen, to tell you true, 'tis thought,  
That of all this, you chiefly are in fault,  
For who, to write good Plays, would ever care,  
When bad and good equally praised are,  
And equally dispraised?  
And you're so critic grown, you won't allow  
That any one can make a good Play now.   

But let that pass, this is your Poet's day,  
And you've had yours; wherefore we'll only say,  
Do you judge better, and they better write,  
And we, I'm sure, shall be the better by't.    


The Persons Represented.  
The Duke of Micena.  
The Prince his Son.  
Calimachus his General.  
Palemon, Calimachus Friend.  
Agenor, a Courtier of Micena.  
Cleanthes, a Courtier of Argos.  
Clymias  
Cleobulo 

Servants to Emilia.     

The Duchess of Micena.  
Emilia, Calimachus' Lady.  
Aurindo, Princess of Argos, disguised, En Page.  
Cleora  
Olinda 

The duchess's Women.    
Althaea, Emilia 's Woman.  
Servants.  
Guards.  
The Spirit of Rebellion.  
The better Genius of Kingdoms.  
Victory.  
Chorus.  
Dancers.  
The Attic Rebels.  
One representing Calimachus, a Mute.    

THE SCENE.  
MICENA.  
The Unity of Place (besides that of Time and Persions) so exactly observed, as there is never any breach or breaking of the Scenes, until the end of the Act.   

EMILIA, A TRAGEDY.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  A Piazza, with the Prospect of Emilia's Palace. Enter Agenor, Cleunthes. Age. 
ONce more you're kindly welcome to Micena.  
You obliged me at Argos, by so many ties  
Of noble Courtesy, and Civilities,  
As I am bound to thank you for them here.  Cle. 
Ne'er talk of that, for whatsoe'er they were,  
Such common things, thank and reward themselves.  
Wherefore, I pray, let's talk of somewhat else.  
We hear your Wars in Attica are done,  
And General, crowned with Victory coming home.  Age. 
We hear so too, and that has gained no less  
Honour in War, than's Lady has in Peace.  
Who, 'mongst the rest, that rare Receipt has got  
To silence Rumour, and stop Slander's Throat,  
By living so retired, whilst he's from home,  
She'll visit, nor be visited by none.  
But now we talk of Ladies, how does your fair  
Princess of Argos? When our Prince was there,  
It was our hopes he should have married her;  
And we much wondered he did not.  Cle. 
'Twas our hopes so.  
And we indeed wondered as much as you,  
He should so suddenly leave her; but much more that she  
So suddenly after, should leave her Country.  
Since when, none knows what is become of her.  
And search of her, has chiefly brought me here;  
Well knowing which ways Lovers hearts do move,  
When once theyare touched with th' Adamant of Love.  Age. 
I known't what hers, with his was, but I fear,  
His was but slightly touched with love of her,  
Who's now wholly inclined another way  
Unto the love of fair Emilia.  
About whose Palace, he  
Carefully seeking opportunity  
Of seeing her, goes wandering day and night,  
While▪ st sheas carefully avoids his sight.  Cle. 
Why then I see, if his love that ways lies  
Amongst the many impossibilities  
Of things ne'er were, nor are, nor like to be;  
We well may number Lovers Constancy.   

SCENE II.  Aurindo musing, etc. 

But stay! What fair and beauteous youth is this?  
Seems Nature's chiefest Pride, and Masterpiece.  
When doubtful whether Sex to make, she made  
One, who of either, all Perfections had.   Age. 
O! 'tis Aurindo, the Prince's Page, whom he  
Much loves and cherishes, but pardon me.  
Some earnest business calls me hence away;  
Mean time, beseech you Sir, whilst you make stay,  
And residence here,  
I may have honour of serving you.  Exit Agenor. Cle. 
O Sir!  
You too much honour your servant  
So, now I'll observe again  
This youth here; there's somewhat; methinks, in him  
That I should know.  Aur. 
Ah, now too late I find,  
'Tis not the change of place, but change of mind,  
Must bring me rest, else it no more d oes stead,  
Than sick men's restless turning them in Bed.  
Who find at last, they turn, and turn in vain,  
And bear their sickness, but along with them.  Cle. 
'Tis she infallibly.  Aur. 
Cleanthes, What shall I do  
To hide me from him?  Cle. 
Nay, now 'tis she, I know,  
By her care, not to be known.  
Hark you fair gentle youth,  
A word with you, I pray.  Aur. 
With me Sir! Pardon me, you're one I do not know.  Cle. 
But I must ask pardon, for knowing you.  
However I shall call you Aurindo still;  
Or whatsoever other name you will,  
In public be known by, so in private you'll give me leave  
To know you for my Princess.  Aur. 
Though you might well perceive  
Cleanthes, I desired not to be known;  
And therefore 'twas a bold presumption.  
I pardon you yet, since I well know 'twas meant  
And done, with no undutiful intent;  
But charge you keep secret my being here,  
Within your silent Breast, neither inquire  
The reason of my coming, whilst here I stay  
(Which I imagine wont be long) you may  
Know me alone: But before company  
I charge you done't, lest you discover me.  
And hark, I hear some coming, go, begone  
And leave me.   

SCENE III.  Althaea, Aurindo. 

What is't only she?  
This is Emilia's Woman, now shall I be  
So troubled with her; yet I must stay, for she's  
Likeliest to tell me where my Master is.   Alt. 
I saw him coming.  
And though I'd never so urgent business,  
I could not but come and meet him;  
For we Waiting-women, love Pages as naturally  
As our Ladies their little Dogs and Monkeys.  
Aurindo, well met, 'tis so long since I saw you last,  
I may well expect that courtesy of a salute from you.  Aur. 
O! I were discourteous else.  
Good Althaea, I'm glad to see you well.  Alt. 
And is that all?  Aur. 
Ay, what would you've more?  
I know no other salute.  Alt. 
You can't be so ignorant, I'm sure, to know no better,  
What salutes belong unto a Woman.  Aur. 
You would not have me make you a curtsy, would you?  
That's your Woman's salute,  
For men's I know no other.  Alt. 
I'll teach you then, Fie, fie, for shame; a Page  
And so bashful, I must learn you more boldness.  Aur. 
First learn yourself more modesty, I pray— away  Alt. 
I shall have more ado, I fear,  
To train him up to womens' businesses,  
Than a wild unruly Colt unto the Manage,  
Look you what I've here for you?  [Takes Sweetmeats out of her Pocket. Aur. 
Away with your trash.  Alt. 
Nor wanton, nor liquorish neither!  
And a Page too!  Aur. 
But why do I stand trifling here?  
You han't seen my Lord the Prince?  Alt. 
Yes, but I have though.  Aur. 
And where I pray?  Alt. 
Where you're not like to find him.  
Let that suffice.  Aur. 
Nay, if you can tell  
No other news of him, but so— Farewell.  Exit. Alt. 
Stay, stay a little,  
And for a kiss I'll tell you— poor youth. Introth,  
I pity him he is so bashful;  
For Bashfulness in Man, is worser far  
Than Impudence in Woman, and the reason's plain,  
For Bashfulness makes a Man the worser Courtier,  
But Impudence a Woman the better Courtesan.  
Within Althaea, Althaea.  Aur. 
ud's so, my Lady calls?  
And I've forgot, the Prince too.   

SCENE IU.  Emilia, Althaea. Em. 
Althaea where are you?  Alt. 
Here Madam.  Em. 
And why not here?  
Knowing I have no other company besides yourself,  
Now my Lord's away.  Alt. 
That's your fault Madam; for, if you please, you may.  
Other Ladies have never more company,  
Than in absence of their Lords.  Em. 
More indiscreet they.  
And did they but know, what people say of it,  
I am assured they would be more discreet.  Alt. 
What need you care what the people say,  
So you be innocent?  Em. 
That in the days of Innocence might suffice,  
When to be innocent, was to be wise.  
But now without the Serpent's wisdom too,  
The innocence of the Dove, will hardly do.  
And there's 'gainst slanderous tongues, but small defence,  
For Woman's honours now in Innocence;  
When at the best 'tis Virtue but unarmed,  
The more they trust unto't, the more theyare harmed.  Alt. 
Yet I have heard you contemn the World's report.  Em. 
And so I do, that of the vulgar sort.  
The meanest and the lowest rank of Men,  
Reports of such, indeed, I so contemn.  
As I should ask, what mean low thing I'd done,  
That might deserve their commendation, should they commend me.  
Since who their approbations would have,  
Should ne'er do any thing that's high and brave.  Alt. 
Would you'd do some of these brave and high things once,  
To make you famous.  
And what made Penelope so I pray,  
But her admitting so many visitants,  
Whilst her Husband was away.  Em. 
Tell not me of what Penelope did,  
Who her example will so far exceed,  
As I'll not only admit no company  
The whilst my Lords away to visit me.  
But not so much, as thought of any one  
Shall enter into my mind, but him alone.  Alt. 
Since you'll needs remember him then so much.  
How can you better do it,  
Than by recommending him, in your Orations to the Gods?  
And he being now actually in the Wars,  
To whom can you better recommend him, than to  
The God of War?  Em. 
Now thou advisest well,  
Open the shrine then,  [The statues of Mars is discovered. Alt. 
With all devotion.  Em. 
Great God of War, whose potent Arm do weyled,  
The deadly pointed Lance, and mighty Shield;  
Fight for my dear Calimachus. With the one,  
And with the other, O defend him from  
His enemies abroad; and grant that he  
May safely, but return with victory.  
So shall I ever honour thee, ever pay  
My vows unto thee; and on thy Altars lay,  
The choicest Victims as I e'er can get;  
Or e'er were laid upon thy Altars yet.  
Here me great Mars.   

SCENE V.  The Prince in Form of Mars' Statue. Pr. 
I do.  Em. 
Prodigious!  
The Statue speaks.  Pr. 
'Tis you, Madam, who thus  
Have animated it.  Alt. 
Now, now the game begins.  Aside. Em. 
Cold horror ceises me, and I'm become  
Of living, a dead statue;  
As that of dead's become a living one!  
And see it moves too!  Alt. 
Fear not, Madam, I'll warrant you  
'Twill not hurt you.  Pr. 
Your charming Beauty, Madam,  
Has given me Life, and Motion; and if  
In the cold Veins of Marble, it could inspire  
Such vital Heat, such Active Flame and Fire;  
What active Flame, what Fire, what vital Heat,  
In my warm Bossom must it needs beget?  Em. 
Ha! My Lord the Prince!  [Discovers himself. Pr. 
Your servant, Madam,  
For you, first changed to statue thus; and then  
For you, thus changed into myself again.  Em. 
There is some plot in this— How came you hither?  Pr. 
Your powerful charms, Madam, did bring me there.  Alt. 
That's well answered, I was afraid he would have said 'twas I  Em. 
And what is't would you have, now you are here?  Pr. 
Only I desire that you would hear me speak.  Em. 
For that you've spoke already too much, I fear,  
And more than I, in honour ought to hear.  
Wherefore I pray no more. You might as well  
Talk to the dead, who in their Graves do dwell,  
As unto me; who whilst my Lord's away,  
Am no less dead and buried than they.  Pr. 
Then if you'll needs be dead, I 'll▪ ll die with you,  
And we'll to th' Elysian shades together go:  
Where in such sweet and ravishing strains as these,  
Heroic Lovers Court their Mistresses.  

Fairer then fairest, if your Eyes,  
Clearer than the clearest Skies,  
Deign to look upon a Lover;  
Who this bold Truth dares discover;  
That he loves, and loves most true,  
And ne'er loved, but only you.  
Behold of all your Sex, the fairest,  
Dearest, sweetest, and the rarest,  
The humblest of your servants here,  
Suspended betwixt Hope and Fear;  
Awaits from you his destiny,  
Whether he should live or die.   Em. 
My Lord, who d'ye imagine me to be,  
That you should talk of love, thus unto me!  
I have a Husband and Honour to look unto.  Alt. 
Shame o''is Honour, I fear all will not do.  Exit. Pr. 
We talk of Love, even to the Gods; and they,  
Madam, are not displeased with what we say.  
And I presumed, I might do so to you;  
And you as little be displeased with't too.  Em. 
Betwixt us Mortals, and th'Immortal Gods,  
There is such mighty difference, and odds  
As that may them, that does not us befit,  
Wherefore, beseech you, speak no more of it.  Pr. 
Of what should I speak, but only of love to you,  
Who are all lovely, were you as loving too?  Em. 
Still more of love?  Pr. 
How can I choose? Since witness Heaven, that as  
I never think of Roses, but does bring  
Into my mind, the memory of the Spring.  
So I ne'er think of Love, but straight I find  
Your lovely memory comes into my mind.  Enter Althaea. Em. 
Nay, then—  Alt. 
O Madam, Madam!  Em. 
Ha! What's the matter?  Alt. 
My Lord, the Duke's without.  Em. 
He here!  
What shall I do then? Beseech you, my Lord, be gone;  
For if he finds you here, we're both undone.  
My Honour will be questioned by't, and you  
Will for dishonouring me, be questioned too.  Pr. 
What shall I do?  Alt. 
For that, let me alone,  
I am old excellent at Invention,  
To your disguise, to your disguise my Lord,  
Be but a statue again,  
And all will be well, you'll see.  Em. 
Nay, quickly then.  
I fear this visit of the Duke, whose hot  
Soliciting me, sufficiently declares,  
The reason why he sent my Lord to th' Wars.  
But by my coldness I'll declare again,  
That if he hopes to speed, he hopes in vain.   

SCENE VI.  The Duke Emilia, etc. Duke. 
Rarest of all that ever Nature made:  
Light in the dark, and Sunshine in the shade.  
What means your Veil, as if you widowed were,  
And all these signs of solemn mourning here?  
I bring you joyful news the wars are done,  
And your Calimachus a coming home.  
Cease then to grieve and mourn, and straight prepare  
A Sacrifice unto the God of War.  Alt. 
Plague o'these Sacrifices, I fear they'll choke  
Our God of War here, with their smothering smoke.  [Aside. Em. 
For that, it will be time enough to burn,  
Sacrifice t'him at my Lords return:  
Our thanks are now best Sacrifice we can give  
Unto the Gods, and best they can receive.  
And next to them, my thanks, my Lord, to you,  
For bringing me the joyful news you do.  Du. 
For your thanks, Madam, 'tis a reward so poor,  
You give me nothing, 'less you give me more,  
They are like Ciphers, nothing, till you add  
Some Figure to them, by which they are somewhat made.  
Add but your Love unto your Thanks, and I  
Shall then rewarded be abundantly.  Em. 
You are my Prince, my Lord, and there is due.  
A reverence I shall always pay to you.  Duke. 
That's too ceremonious, pray treat me,  
Madam, with more familiarity.  Em. 
This is too familiar,— Pray let me alone.  
Is this the example, you give the Prince your Son?  Duke. 
Pho, he's not here, and neither sees, nor hears  
What we do now.  Em. 
But Statues have Eyes and Ears.  [Discovers the Statue. Alt. 
What means she! will she discover him? Aside.  Em. 
And see,  
In just resentment of the injury,  
You'd do the best of Warriors, the God of War  
Begins to stir in't, don't you see him there?  [The Statue moves a little. Duke. 
Ha! Methinks, indeed, I see't!  
And I'm amazed at the sight of it!  Alt. 
I must find some means to send him away,  
She'll mar all else.  Exit Althaea. Duke. 
But, come, come, Madam, leave this panic fear,  
Here's nothing else but a vain Idol here;  
Or that which is a vainer Idol yet,  
Your Honour, that does all these fears beget;  
That only is a word, a breath, a blast,  
Which's soon as 'tis pronounced, as soon is past.  Em. 
So is our Soul, only a blast or breath,  
And yet we see our Bodies, Life, and Death,  
Depends upon't, as on our Honour does  
That better and nobler Life that lives in us.  
Measure my Honour then, but by your own,  
What is a Prince, when once his honour's gone?  
And for my part, my Lord, I'd have you know,  
My honour's as dear to me, as yours to you.  Duke. 
Why should you be so passionate for a thing,  
That does more pain untoes, than pleasure bring?  
Love's the commanding Passion of the Soul,  
And all our other Passions does control.  
Do you but love me then, as I do you,  
You soon would let all other Passions go.  Em. 
My Lord, I would not be uncivil;  
But if you longer talk of Love to me,  
You'll please to pardon me, if I go away  
And leave you.  Duke. 
Stay, I command you stay:  
Remember I'm your Prince.  Em. 
Remember it you,  
And do, my Lord, what Princes ought to do;  
Govern your Passions,  
Let Reason rule you, as you rule others; and  
Command nothing, but what you should command,  
Else your commands, though you were ne'er so great,  
Are less to me, than if you did entreat.  Duke. 
How now proud Lady?  Em 
I am so, and 'thas always been allowed,▪  
To such as I, to be a little proud.  
If it be Pride in one that is a Wife,  
T'esteem her Fame and Honour, more than Life.  
If it be Pride, to scorn to be one of those,  
Who put base Vices on, with noble clothes.  
And finally,— if it be Pride,  
To hate, and to detest all Vice beside.  
Let who'slist, call it vicious, for me,  
Be it their Vice, it shall my Virtue be.  Enter Althaea. Alt. 
O Madam, Madam!  Em. 
What, more news with you?  Alt. 
My Lord's returned.  Em. 
Is't possible?  Duke. 
Unknown to me;  
No Letters of it before? It cannot be!  Alt. 
I can assure you 'tis true, nay, what is more,  
He's coming in, and just now at the door.  Em. 
Beseech you then, my Lord, go presently,  
'Tis dangerous, should he find you here with me.  
Calimachus loves me more than 's▪ s life I know,  
But's Honour more than me, wherefore pray go  
Before he comes.  Duke. 
I can't tell what to think on't!  [Exit Duke. Alt. 
Nay this is no time of thinking,  
This ways, this ways, my Lord— So let him go  
To's Duchess, if he will, she's young and handsome:  
And having so fair a Bed-fellow at home,  
He has less need to seek abroad for one.  
But for the Prince, the poor young Prince,  
That's wholly unprovided. Introth,  
'Twere charity to help him a little.  Em. 
Well remembered,  
Help him, help him away, by any means,  
Before my Lord comes.  Alt. 
Never fear that, his coming  
Was only a story feigned by me, to see d  
The Duke away.  Em. 
Nothing else?  Pr. 
Excellent Wench,  
Then I may be myself again,  [A noise of fighting without. Em. 
Hark? what noise is that?  Alt. 
I know not, it comes from the Garden Gate.  Em. 
Clashing of weapons! louder and louder still;  
There is some fighting— Go,  
Call up all our Servants.  Alt. 
What, Clymias, Cleobulo.  Exeunt. Manet Prince. Pr. 
What noise is this? It comes from the Garden Gate,  
Where I commanded my Servants to await  
My coming back, and let none enter till  
I came. I'll out and see what 'tis.   

SCENE VII.  Enter Servants running, Clymias, Cleobulo after. Ser. 
Run, run Clymias.  Cly. 
Whither?  1 Serve 
No matter for that, but run, run I say.  Cly. 
Wherefore?  1 Seru. 
What, more Interrogations?  
No matter for that neither;  
But run, run as you will answer it.  Exit. Cly. 
Hurry, hurry, hurry; these fellows think  
No business can be done, without noise and bustle;  
And I must make a noise and bussling too,  
They'll think me idle else. Who, who, who, who.  Runs up and down. Enter Cleobulo. 
Come, what hast you make now,  
And all the house is in an uproar.  Cle. 
Wherefore?  Cly. 
Why, there's fight yonder?  Cle. 
That's the reason I make no more haste,  
And where, can you tell?  Cly. 
At the Garden Gate, they say.  Cle. 
Then fast as I can, I'll run the other way:  Cly. 
And I'll go out and see what 'tis.  Exit.  

SCENE VIII.  The Prince and his followers pursued. 
Beseech your Highness get  
To your Apartment, we'll make good your Retreat.  [Exeunt the Prince, etc.  

SCENE IX.  Calimachus and Palemon disguised, pursuing them. Pal. 
That was the Duke who first came out; but who  
That other was, came next, I do not know▪  
Nor those we fought with.  Cal. 
But had they not gone so soon,  
I'd search their hearts for it, or I had known.  
And is this she, who in my absence sat  
Like mourning Turtle, in absence of its mate!  
All solitary and alone,  
Who thus is visited by every one?  
For this discovery, thanks to my disguise,  
In which, I thought 't have▪ have ta'en her by surprise,  
To our greater joy, but now to my greater woe,  
I'm more surprised myself to find her so.  Pal. 
Indeed 'tis passing strange!  Cal. 
So strange, did I not see't  
With these eyes of mine, I'd ne'er believed it.  
Why this is right  
Curtesan-like to have her Bravo's fight,  
Against strangers without, the whilst within;  
No Laias, nor no Phrino, e'er could be,  
More visited by customers than she.  Pal. 
Nay, now you go too far with your suspicions.  Cal. 
I'll go farther yet;  
None but yourself knows of my coming home,  
And I'm resolved still to remain unknown,  
Till in some disguise,  
I may not only get entrance into  
The House, but even her very Bosom too.  Pal. 
And I'll assist you, though I have no mind,  
To your seeking that, you would be loath to find,  
And hunting with your own curiosity,  
Your own disquietness.  Cal. 
No matter.  
Come what will, I'm resolved to take my chance,  
Of all evils, the worst is Ignorance.  Pal. 
Well pray Heaven you do not find, say I,  
Of all evils, the worst is Jealousy.  
For Ignorance is a good dull disease,  
That does not trouble much, nor much displease.  
But Jealousy, as a Plummit or a Stone,  
Makes thousand circles i'th' Water where 'tis thrown.  
So when i'th' Breast, it once does entrance find,  
Raises a thousand troubles in the mind.  Cal. 
I know all this, and know besides that 'tis  
Just like some steep, and dangerous Precipice.  
Where 'tis easier far, to keep from falling in,  
Than once being fallen, e'er to get out again,  
Then think me not so desperate mad, that I  
Should throw myself into it willingly.  Pal. 
I think not so, but do not know how far,  
You may be engaged in't, e'er you are aware.  
But come, let us away,  
For fear you be discovered; if you stay;  
That same disguise you've on, each one may quite,  
See through it, it is so thin and slight;  
And less you're wholly hid in your disguise,  
It does but more attract your curious eyes,  
Then till a more confiding one you get,  
I will provide you of a safe retreat.  Exeunt.   

ACT II.  

SCENE II.  A Royal Garden with a Fountain, Aurindo. Au. 
Fleire on these Men, these most deceitful Men,  
Let never Woman, for my sake again,  
Trust any of them, for they all are false,  
As is this Prince here;  
And all glory in deceiving them, as he,  
False as he is, does in deceiving me—  
Here by this Fountain side, that seems to weep,  
For pity of me, I'll lay me down and sleep.  
If wearied Slaves, whose bodies are oppressed  
With heavy burdens, would be glad to rest;  
Much more would those, whose minds do bear about  
A heavier weight within, than they without.   

SCENE II.  A Song above, and the Duchess in a Balcon, spying Aurindo sleeping. Dutch 
There does he sleep, there does he gently take  
His rest, for whom I restlessly do wake.  
Such was Narcissus, but this far more wise,  
Coming to th' Fountain side, does shut his eyes,  
And leaves the seeing his Beauty unto me,  
That I might die for love of it, not he.  
Fain would I find some way to hide my shame,  
Whilst I discover to him, my secret Flame;  
Or else my Heart, would all to Cinders turn,  
For Fires more theyare concealed, the more they burn.  
Aurindo, Aurindo.  Aur. 
Ha! Who calls?  He starts up. Dutch. 
'Tis I, look up  Aur. 
The Duchess! Your pleasure Madam?  Dutch. 
Look in that Fountain, see if thou canst find  
The Portrait there, of one I clearly love.  Aur. 
I can see none.  Dutch. 
Thou canst not be so blind;  
Look, look again, I see it hitherto,  
And so, if thou hadst any eyes, might saint thou,  
The Fountain's shallow, the Water smooth and clear.  Aur. 
I see nothing, but mine own shadow here?  Dutch. 
And is that nothing fool?  
I must come down myself, and help thee, or thou,  
Wilt never find it out.  She descends. Aur. 
Ah, now I know  
What Portrait 'tis she mean, though 'tis not fit,  
(To save her sharm) that she should know it yet;  
And little does she know, how much she errs,  
Since 'tis another's Portrait, none of hers.  
And would to Heaven, the owner of 'twould be,  
As careful but to find it out, as she.  [The Duchess below. Dutch. 
If it were possible, I fain would fly  
This shamefacedness, and bashful modesty.  
The shadow of the mind that follows us,  
Just as the shadow of the Body does,  
And 'tis alike impossible to chase  
'T on from the Body, as another's from the face—  
Well— yet have you found it out.  Aur. 
No Madam, yet I have sought and sought—  
I must fain Ignorance.  Aside. Dutch. 
Rather you will  
Not find it, else you could not be so dull—  
But you may let alone, the searching there  
For th' Portrait, now th'original is hear—  
Can you find that out now?  Aur. 
No Madam, not I  Looks about. Dutch. 
Go too, I see by your blushing now you lie,  
And run to my Chamber, fetch me but my Glass,  
I'll prove you do, unto your very face.  Aur. 
I know not what to do, nor what to say;  
Would either she, or I, were well away.  Dutch. 
Why dost not go? or if that seems too far,  
Laok in mine eyes, and thou may'st see it there—  
Pie, fie, for shame? this bashful Modesty  
May be a Virtue in the Country.  
'Mongst your Fools there: But 'tis a Vice in Court,  
And a thing laughed at, by your wiser sort.  Aur. 
Would I could see  
Some body coming to deliver me.  Dutch. 
Why dost thou look about so? there's no fear  
Any should see us, we're in private here.  Aur. 
And see in happy time,  
The Duke comes yonder, and the Prince with him.  
Never poor, fearful wretch, condemned to die,  
Was e'er so glad of his reprieve as I   

SCENE III.  The Duke, Prince, and after Cleanthes, Agenor, Cleora, Olinda, etc. Dutch. 
He, here now! When I have half past the shame,  
And t'have it wholly to begin again?  Duke. 
I do not like her being here alone  
With th'boy: But liberty of reprehension  
Is wholly lost, when we ourselves offend,  
No less, than those whom we would reprehend.  Dutch. 
I must seem glad yet— My Lord, you're welcome home,  
But yet I wonder you're returned so soon;  
For I'm mistaken, or, I heard you say  
When you went forth, you meant to hunt to day.  Duke. 
I did so, and the reason why I came  
So soon again, is— I could find no game.  Pr. 
'Tis true indeed; and I went a hunting too,  
But I could find as little game as you.  Aside. Clea. 
See how the Lady's court Aurindo there.  Age. 
Ay, they'll try what mettle he's made of, e'er  
Th'have done with him.  Clea. 
Marry Heaven defend, for then  
They'll only find a counterfeit of him.  Aside. Age. 
These Beardless Boys, carry it clearly away now from  
Us Bearded-men; and 'tis with kissing, as 'tis  
With bowling; they love not rough Allies, for fear of rubs,  
But on a smooth one they trundle it away.  Aside. Dutch. 
See, they may freely court Aurindo now,  
A liberty to me they'll not allow.  
Such is the happiness of mean estate,  
And the unhappiness of being great.  
Heavens hear my Prayer, Would they were great as I,  
So I like them had but that liberty.  Duke. 
Still eyeing the Boy! Agenor hark, do you  
Observe Aurindo, and our Duchess too;  
And if you find them together, let me know  
You're wise, and understand me.  Age. 
So now am I,  
One of your busy Officers, called a Spy;  
Who t'over see others, make such haste;  
They commonly oversee themselves at last.  Dutch. 
Well Cleora, what think you of Aurindo now?  
Have you discovered, whether he loves or no?  Cleo. 
I see small signs of't Madam,  
H'as so little courtship in him.  Dutch. 
That rather does prove,  
He loves for courtship, is no more sign of Love,  
Than boasting is of Valour,— No without doubt?  
He has some Mistress, if you could find it out.  Cleo. 
I'll try Madam,  
And if I find them together, I hope to have  
As much pleasure at second hand, as they  
Who look upon the Game, whilst others play.  Clea. 
Pray, who was this Duchess? Before the Duke  
In second Nuptials married her?  Age. 
Why a Lady of noble Birth, and Parentage,  
Whom he made choice of in's declining age,  
Chiefly for that Beauty, that's but the outward skin,  
O'th' better Beauty, Ladies should have within.  
But why d'ye ask?  Clea. 
Because, me thinks I see,  
But little love and familiarity  
Betwixt them now.  Age. 
O Sir, you must know,  
Beauty, is just like Sweetmeats, which before  
We've tasted of, nothing we long for more.  
But after a while 'tis tasted and enjoyed,  
There's nothing, with the which, we're sooner cloyed,  
Then, with those are married, 'tis a thing,  
Whose fire's become so dull and languishing.  
As th'words of marriage were a charm against it,  
It loses all its force i'th' married Breast,  
And's Ice to them, that's Fire to all the rest.   

SCENE IU.  Palemon, the Duke, etc. He kisses the Duke's hands. Duke. 
Palemon welcome, welcome brave Soldier,  
But where's Calimachus, that I see him not here?  
You and he are inseparable, I know,  
And like th'twin-stars, always together go.  Pal. 
Your Highness will in these his Letters find,  
The reason why, as yet he stays behind.  Duke. 
'Tis well, and how does he?  Pal. 
As he always does,  
When to the Harvest of the War he goes,  
Reaping you Victories which the Wars now done,  
He's binding up in Sheaves, to bring you home.  Duke. 
And he deserves, after his glorious pain,  
In Car of Triumph, to return again.  
And Princes when they thus, bring Conquerors home,  
Make thousand Soldiers, by rewarding one—  
Well, have you visited Emilia yet?  Pal. 
Not yet my Lord, but now my next charge is,  
To visit her, and from him tell her this;  
'Tis not his pleasure, that she should live here,  
Whilst he's away, as if she prisoner were:  
And he'd have her, and all the world to know,  
'Tis far from his desire, she should do so.  Duke. 
He's wife in it, and shows that he is free,  
From th' greatest Plague of Marriage, Jealousy,  
That bitters all the sweets, where e'er't does come  
O'th' married life, and makes it waited on  
by Furies, 'stead of Graces; and instead  
Of Roses, strews with Thorns the Marriage-Bed—  
Well, go commend me to her, tell her we  
Will visit her shortly, now we've liberty  
Given us by Calimacbus, mean while  
Somewhat by way of Triumph we'll prepare,  
For honouring him, and for diverting her—  
Madam, your hand here, and yours too my son,  
To bid noble Palemon welcome home.  Dutch. 
Welcome.  Pr. 
Most welcome.  [He presents him to kiss their hands. Exeunt. Manet Palemon. Pal. 
This was Calimachus plot, though unto me  
It seems but a strange piece of policy,  
To find out those who visited her before,  
T'expose her to be visited by more;  
And for the heightening of his Jealousy,  
May be of dangerous consequence in time.  
But he is one, there's no resisting him  
So obstinate in his ways, he 's▪ s like the wind,  
More violent, more resistance he does find.  
But let him take his course a while, and then  
His violence ceases, and he's calm again.  
Where are you there?  Palemons Lodging.  

SCENE V.  Calimachus like an Ethiope, etc. Cal. 
Well, have you done as I desired you?  Pal. 
Yes.  
And all things have succeeded to your wish.  
Ne'er fear it, she'll have visitants enough,  
For as by th' Duke himself I understand,  
They have a Courtly Mask for her in hand.  Cal. 
'Tis very well, and since they needs will go  
A Masking, I've a Mask here for them too.  
And how d ye like me? Am I enough disguised?  [Points to his face. Pal. 
Disguised!  
You're wholly changed, and are yourself no more,  
Even I who know you, doubt if it be you.  
And were you but changed within, as you're without,  
Even you yourself would doubt,  
If 'twere yourself or no.  Cal. 
And for disguising of my inside too,  
That nothing may discover me by my tongue,  
I mean to fain myself both deaf and dumb.  
So in my presence, she will never fear,  
To speak what she'd not have me tell, nor hear;  
So shall I walk invisible, and be  
I'th' dark to her, and she i'th' light to me.  Pal. 
Your transformation is so strange and new,  
Proteus himself might learn the art from you.  
But hark! I hear some coming.  Cal. 
If't be she,  
Present me to her as a present sent from me.  Pal. 
I understand.   

SCENE VI.  Emilia; Althaea, Calimachus, Palemon. Em. 
What rumors this I hear flies up and down,  
My Lord, and's friend Palemon are in town?  Alt. 
Perhaps it comes from th'lie I made to day,  
And if't should prove true now, you needs must say,  
I've good luck with lying.  Em. 
I think 'tis true indeed,  
For behold Palemon here!  Alt. 
'Tis he indeed!  Em. 
Palemon welcome,  
Welcome as Aurora Messenger of Light,  
To those ' have suffered a long tedious night.  
But where's my Lord!  Pal. 
Madam, he stays behind,  
And will be straight ways here.  Em. 
He is unkind  
To stay so long, knowing whilst he's from home,  
I m just like Flowers in absence of the Sun,  
Who wanting his comfortable light, do mourn,  
Languish, and pine away till his return,  
He's well I hope.  Pal. 
As well Madam, as he,  
Wanting your comfortable sight can be,  
As by these Letters you will understand  
From his, directed to your fairer hand.  [She kisses them. Em. 
all's welcome comes from him, but much móre he,  
Would he but come himself, should welcome be.  
You'll give me leave to read them—  
Our chiefs: comfort in absence,  
When wanting sight of those we love the best,  
By help of these we hear of them at least.  Alt. 
My Lord, you're most welcome home.  Pal. 
Thanks good Althaea, and I'm to thank you from my Lord  
For your care of my Lady in's absence, which he'll reward,  
Assure yourself when he returns.  Alt. 
Did he but know indeed, what care  
I've had of her— He'd hang me for't I fear.  Aside. Em. 
He writes me here, it is his pleasure I,  
More freely should converse with company.  
And if this be hisminde, I know not what  
To think of't, but'tis strangely changed of late!  Pal. 
You may see by't, Madam, the care  
He has, lest your solitude should impair  
Your health.  Em. 
Well, I shall obey, since he would have it so.  Cal. 
Ay, and that most willingly I know.  Aside. Em. 
He writes besides of a present has sent me too.  Pal. 
He has, Madam, and 'tis this Ethiope, who  
No more can change colour (he says) than he  
Can change his love, and his affection t'ye.  Em. 
And as a pledge of that,  
I shall preserve him carefully, and what  
Qualities has he?  Pal. 
He's valiant above a Man,  
And faithful as Angel Guardians, though he can,  
Nor speak, nor hear.  Em. 
How d'ye understand him then.  Pal. 
By signs only, the language of the dumb,  
As you shall see.  [He makes signs to him pointing towards her, and he humbly bows and lifts up his hands to Heaven. Em. 
What means he now?  Pal. 
By these his humble actions you may see,  
He dedicates himself, and service t'ye  
And now he vows to Heaven, with up lift hands  
Perpetual obedience to your commands.  Alt. 
He's very devout, I see that  
By the lifting up the white of's eyes sc.  [He draws his sword, in action of fighting, then sets it to his Breast. Em. 
And now!  Pal. 
By these more martial actions he does show,  
That he'll not only fight,  
But die for you.  Alt. 
I was afraid, he would have killed us all.  Em. 
We like him well, let him be always near us;  
Nor can we make  
Too much of him, for his dear Master's sake—  
And how does he? he has received, I hope,  
No wounds i'th' Wars?  Pal. 
None, Madam, but such, whose honourable scars  
In soldiers manly faces, we behold,  
Show just like precious Jewels set in Gold.  Em. 
I know him, and his love too well, to fear  
He should have got any new Mistress there.  Cal. 
Would he knew yours so well, he might not fear,  
You should have got any new gallants here.  Aside. Em. 
Come let me here  
More of my Lord, I pray,  
For next to highest joy, 'tis a degree  
To talk, at least, of those we long to see.  Alt. 
Deaf and dumb! Pretty qualities,  
If one knew what they were good for.  
Let me see for's dumbness I like that well enough,  
He can't tell tales, and for's deafness 'tis no great matter;  
For men naturally understand what women would have with them  
Then for his colour, all men are black in th'dark they say, and I  
May have curiosity, one of these nights to try.  Exit. Cly. 
Why, what a fellow servant has our Lord sent us here,  
One deaf and dumb? what shall we do with him?  Cle. 
Why, we'll be sure to put all the work of the house upon him,  
Let him put it off again as well as he can.  Cal. 
Ay, will you so, I'm glad I know it.  Aside. Cly. 
But will he do't d'ye think? he seems a sturdy piece.  Cle. 
I'll make him do't I'll warrant you for all his sturdiness.  Cal. 
And I'll try that.  Aside. Cle. 
Best is, let us use him never so ill,  
He can't tell our Lady of it.  Cal. 
But your Lord will know of't though,  
And that's as good.  Aside. Enter Althaea. Alt. 
Madam, the Duke and all the Court is here.  Pal. 
Pray then, Madam, put off your veil,  
And put on a cheerful countenance, you know  
'Tis my Lords will and pleasure you should do so.  Em. 
I shall endeavour it, though 'tis a way that I shall hardly counterfeit I fear,  
T'have heart and face in several habits clad,  
And outside cheerful, whilst my inside's sad.  Cal. 
Now had I as many eyes,  
As Argus, I should need them all for spies.   

SCENE VI.  The Duke, Prince, Duchess, and all the Court after. Duke. 
Behold, Madam.  
Since you'll not come to Court,  
The Court is come to you.  Duke. 
They too much honour me.  Em. 
That cannot be,  
Though we should build Altars, and Temples t'ye,  
For there's no honour underneath the sky,  
That is, for Beauty too sublime and high;  
And there's but one Land does adore the Sun,  
But Beauty is adored by every one.  Cal. 
Compliments, Compliments! Ear-Lechery at least,  
And I expect e'er long to see the rest.  Aside. Here the rest enter. Dutch. 
Dear Emilia, I am most glad to see ye,  
And in our Sex's name must quarrel w'ye,  
That having so much Virtue in you, you  
Should keep it so concealed as you do.  Em. 
Madam, if I have any Virtue, 'tis  
Only th'admiring of your Highnesses,  
And but to come near that, is a degree  
Of a most high inferiority.  Duke. 
Nay then we shall ne'er have done, if you  
Ladies, do fall a complementing too,  
And I must take her from you, I perceive  
And keep you ' sunder, or you'll never leave.  Aside. Pr. 
I longed until I came, but now I'm here,  
I know not with what face to look on her.  
T'attempt and fail, to ask and be denied,  
Is such a shame, no Prince can e'er abide.  Age. 
Do but observe there, how the Prince and Duke,  
With jealous eyes, one upon t'other look.  
Then both upon Emilia, whilst she  
On neither looks, on t'other side then, see  
How th' Duchess there does furtive looks convey  
Unto Aurindo, who looks another way,  
Towards the Prince, and in so great a press,  
You ne'er saw Eyes speak more, nor Tongue speak less.  Cleo. 
That shows their love's not mutual, for we delight to look on those we love.  
And where aversion of the Eyes you find,  
There's no great inclination of the mind.  Duke. 
Come let the Mask begin, and Music play,  
This is your Lord Calimachus' day:  
And you, Madam, being Lady of the Feast,  
Every one here, is your invited guest.  
You than are to do honour of the place,  
And there is none, can do't with better grace.  
Come sit you by us— Nay it must be so,  
Our Duchess, and our Son, their places know.  Pr. 
If every one aright, their places knew,  
That place were fitter far for me, than you.  Aside. Loud Music, and the Mask begins. First, the Spirit of Rebellion, in Fuliginous Armour, with its Sword drawn, riseth from Hell and sings, as follows in a Base voice. Reb. 
From th' Abbiss of deepest Hell,  
Where Rebellious Spirits dwell,  
I'm come to Earth with usual charms,  
To stir these Atticks up to arms.  
Liberty, Liberty.  Waves his Sword. 
Who would be slaves that might be free?  
Rouse up yourselves, take arms, and courage then,  
Beasts serve not Beasts, and why should Men serve Men?  Here the Atticks rise, and in their first dance represent the beginning's of Rebellion, etc. Which ended, Rebellion sings again. Reb. 
Now, as you bravely have begun,  
You're as bravely to go on.  
There's no remedy now but War,  
You can't be guiltier than you are.  
Liberty, Liberty, etc.  ut supra. Here the better genius of Kingdoms appears in the Air, Angel-like, and sings as follows in a Treble Voices. Gen. 
Cease Rebellious Spirit, cease,  
And leave the World, and Men in peace.  Reb. 
Who's that commands there? As if they  
Could make Rebellion obey?  Gen. 
'Tis I, who cast thee down to Hell,  
When thou in Heaven didst first Rebel,  
And since pursue thee every where,  
When thou rebell'st, as well as there.  Reb. 
Thy power in Heaven, I must allow,  
But i've on Earth as great as thou,  
Where Men i'th' middle Region dwell,  
Confining betwixt Heaven and Hell.  Gen. 
Alarm, Alarm, and let us try,  
Who has most power, thou or I;  
And who more Spirits at Command,  
To save, or to destroy a Land.  Both. 
Alarm, Alarm.  Here the Atticks dance their second dance, representing a Battle, with various success, till one personating Calimachus, descends suddenly in Thunder and Lightning▪ and discipates them all, When the Scene changes; and he is represented in a Triumphant Chariot with Victory crowning him, the Chorus singing, answered by Victory. Cho. 
Io Triumph, Io Triumph, etc.  Vict. 
Victoria, Victoria.  
And joy to th'fair Emilia,  
Whose noble Lord has overcome,  
And now in Triumphs coming home:  
Never did any, more than he,  
Deserve the Crown of Victory.  
Victoria, Victoria, etc.  Cho. 
Io Triumph, Io Triumph, etc.  Vict. 
Victoria, Victoria,  
And joy to th'fair Emilia.  
Micena now, will scarce have place  
To hold the Trophies, that he has,  
And's glorious Actions to proclaim,  
Would weary all the Tongues of Fame.  
Victoria, Victoria,  
And joy to th'fair Emilia.  Cho. 
Victoria, Victoria, etc.  
Io Triumph, Io Triumph, etc.  The end of the Mask. Duk. 
Thus in representing your Lords Victories, and Triumph,  
I fear we've tired you our, wherefore we'll give  
You no more trouble now, but take our leave.  Em. 
For th'honour your Highness to my Lord has done,  
He best can thank you at his coming home;  
For what you've done to me, I know no way  
But only with my blushes to repay.  Duke. 
Those as superfluons you may let alone,  
Blushes suppose some fault, but you have none.  Dutch 
Farewell dear Emilia, and pray let's see you oftener at Court.  
Remember you, and all fair things were made  
To appear i'th' light, and not lie hid i'th' shade.  Duke. 
Come son, come you away,  
And done't trouble her with your longer stay.  [Spies the Prince addressing himself unto her. Pr. 
Betwixt her, and my Father's Jealousy,  
Tantalus in Hell was ne'er more plagued than I.  [Exeunt. Em. 
I'm glad theyare gone, for all their sights to day  
Do only show me that my Lord's away.  
As seeing Painted Meats does only serve,  
With greater pomp to show us how we starve.  Exit. Manent Calimachus and Palemon. Pal. 
Well, hitherto, I hope, you see,  
Y'ave no great reason for your jealousy.  Cal. 
Hitherto I've no occasion to know,  
Where I have any reason for't or no:  
In public all are modest, when alone,  
Then chiefly their immodesties are shown.  
Besides you know, when Gins and Snares we lay,  
We expect not presently to take the prey;  
But give them time to come, and so will I,  
Mean while, the snare is laid, and so't shall lie.  Exeunt.   

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  
The Prince's Apartment.  The Prince, Aurindo. Aur. 
IT grieves me to see him so sad and pensive, and I'd fain comfort him, if I could—  
Pray my Lord, if it may not seem in me,  
Too great Presumption, and curiosity,  
Why are you so sad and pensive?  Pr. 
Alas! If I should tell thee, thouart too young  
I know to understand me when I'd done  
'Tis Love, Love Boy, that causes my unrest,  
Gentle-Companion of every Noble Breast!  Aur. 
Ungentle rather, if it molest you so—  
And who is't you love, my Lord? If I may know?  Pr. 
Who?— But the fairest every way  
Of all her sex, the bright Emilia;  
She who surpasses all Beauties else, as far  
As th'Sun the Moon, or Moon each lesser Star.  Aur. 
Indeed, I have heard that she's,  
All that to Beauty, Beauty to others is,  
Of Grace and Ornament, and what's yet more rare,  
That she is full, as virtuous, as fair.  Pr. 
I would she were not, virtue's a thing we wish  
Unto our Wives, not to our Mistresses.  
'Tis enough for them, that they be kind and fair,  
All other Virtues, but superfluous are.  Aur. 
And pray, my Lord, does she harken to your suit?  Pr. 
Oh no Aurindo, but is as deaf unto't,  
As Ulysses was unto  
The Sirens voice, 'gainst which he stopped his ear,  
And none hear worse, than those who will not hear.  Aur. 
That is some comfort yet, and Heaven I see  
Punishes him, for's falsehood unto me.  Aside. Pr. 
But, by all signs  
And symptons of Love, and Lovers, as every thing  
They say or do, heavy, and languishing,  
With frequent sighs and tears, I should suspect  
Thou were't in love too Boy; now I reflect  
Upon it better?  Aur. 
Who I?  
I can assure your Highness, I ne'er knew,  
Other love yet, but only love of you.  Pr. 
Thanks gentle Boy, I have experienced thee,  
Loving and faithful indeed, and thou shalt see  
I will reward thee for it; mean time,  
Since I have trusted thee, so far, to let  
Thee know my love, I'll trust thee farther yet,  
Thou shalt go plead for me to her.  Aur. 
Alas, for that  
I fear I shall make but a sorry Advocate—  
Besides, how shall I come to speak with her?  Pr. 
For that, Althaea will help thee, never fear.  
Give her but this from me; go prithee, go then.  
Tell her how much I love her; nay, what's more,  
Tell her how much I reverence, yea, adore  
Her, dost hear?  
Thou— hast a powerful tongue I know,  
And such an one, it is impossible to  
Resist: Go then, and if thou bewaylest with her,  
Never was Boy unto his Lord more dear.  Exit. Manet Aurindo. Aur. 
O cruel employment! to be made instrument  
Of mine own undoing? And not only confident  
Of's love unto my rival, but Advocate too,  
To plead for't' 'gainst myself? What shall I do?  
But what a question's that?  
Those who deliberate,  
Have some will of their own,  
But I have none.  
With resolution then,  
Great as my Love, I'll go and plead for him.  
And if my Tongue refuse, or Heart repine,  
I'll never more acknowledge them to be mine.  Exit.  

SCENE II.  Cleanthes, Aurindo. Cle. 
O Madam? I've been seeking all o'er the Court  
For you, and have business wi'ye of great import.  Aur. 
Well— For this time you may keep it still,  
Be the importance of it, what it will,  
I have no time to hear it.  Cle. 
'Tis of no less  
Concern, than your whole Country's happiness.  Aur. 
Well— be it so,  
I've business yet of greater concernment now.  Cle. 
What? than your State and Country?  Aur. 
And even Life too;  
As whosoever truly loves does know.  Cle. 
Pardon me, Madam, if I tell you then, that you  
Too much neglect yourself, and Country too;  
And all Relations have too much forgot,  
For love of this false Prince, who loves you not.  Aur. 
No more,  
I charge you on your life, or I shall count you an enemy,  
Not only unto him, but unto me.  
Keep such reproachful words for those I hate,  
He is not false, but I unfortunate.  
And should he not only hate me, but even kill  
Me too, I ne'er should cease to love him still.  Cle. 
O great  
And unparalleled Love in her, as 'tis in him  
As great and unparalleled Ingratitude again!  Aur. 
So go,  
And be assured, who tru'y loves does know,  
No pleasure, no contentment is above  
Delight we take, in suffering for those we love.  Exit. Manet Cleanthes. Cle. 
What great delight there is, I do not know  
In Suffering and Martyrdom, but this I do.  
No Tyrant e'er invented greater pain,  
Than 'tis to love, and not be loved again.  
Which he but only dully imitated,  
Who bound a living body to a dead.  [The Duke passes on the Stage. 
But see where th' Duke does unattended go,  
And I could tell whither he's going too;  
But I'll let that alone—  
For faults of Princes, like sore Eyes become,  
But worse with handling;  
And 'twere a saucy, and bold Tongue should dare,  
To touch their faults, whose Persons sacred are.   

SCENE III.  Emilia's Palace. The Duke, Calimachus. Exit Cleanthes. Duke. 
I am resolved  
To dally no longer with her, they deny  
Themselves, who ask faintly and cowardly,  
And 'tis for dat people, but your great  
Princes are to command, and not entreat—  
First then I will endeavour to  
Gain her by gentleness, and if that won't do  
Just as Physicians, when one Remedy  
Won't do, apply the contrary, so will I.  Cal. 
So— Now he's come,  
I won't be deaf at least, though I'll be dumb.  Aside. Duke. 
As for her honour, she thinks she's so obliged  
To guard, what is't! but like a Fort besieged,  
Where 'tis no shame to yield unto the stronger,  
And rendered up, when't can hold out no longer.   

SCENE IU.  Emilia, Althaea, etc. 
See here she comes— First  
I'll strive to infect her with poison of Jealousy,  
Which taken in at the Ear,  
Presently flies  
Unto the heart, when love grows cold and dies,  
It shall be so—  Alt. 
So now I've brought them together  
Like a true Waiting-woman, I ll go  
Into another room, and leave them so.  Exit. Duke. 
Madam, although 't has hitherto been my use  
Never to bring you none but welcome news;  
Yet now I'm come to bring you such I fear,  
As may not be so welcome t'ye to hear.  Em. 
What's that my Lord?  Duke. 
I'll tell you— But first I pray,  
For greater secrecy send that Moor away.  Em. 
For him, my Lord, he's one you need not fear,  
Both deaf and dumb, and cannot speak nor hear.  Duke. 
But he can see though.  Em. 
What although he can?  
I'll do nothing, but what he, or any man  
May see,  Cal. 
Hum, I like that answer well,  
And may perchance be deceived in her; who can tell?  Duke. 
Well then— Know, that whilst your Lords away,  
he has▪ has got another Mistress in Attica,  
Whose bosom he warms with's hot embraces there,  
Whilst poor Emilia in her cold Bed freezes here.  Cal. 
What will she say to this?  Em. 
My Lord, I know  
They falsely lied, whoever told you so;  
And wrong him, wrong him most injuriously,  
Faith, Truth itself, would sooner be false than he.  Cal. 
Mine own dear wife! Now I clearly see,  
I was deceived in her.  Duke. 
Alas, poor Lady, how you are▪ are deceived? I pray  
What else makes him tarry so long away?  Em. 
If that be all, you may say as well, that Gold  
By the Touchstone, should be rendered false, or Men  
Guilty, by trying their Innocence again.  
For so Absence is but  
Touchstone, and trial of Love; by which we know,  
Where those we love, be true untoes, or no.  Cal. 
Mine own dear wife still! What a Villain was I,  
Ever to suspect her!  Duke. 
Nay then— I have no more to say,  
But if you'll needs be deceived by him, you may.  
Had you not better  
Deal by him rather, as he does by you.  
And in the same  
Coin he pays you, to pay him back again?  Em. 
Under these Flowers, I knew some Serpent lay,  
Which now by its poison, does itself betray:  
And little for me had Honour and Virtue done,  
If now I know it, its poison I could not shun.  Duke. 
Nay, tarry Lady, and before you go,  
Without more circumstance I'd have you know,  
I must and will enjoy you.  Cal. 
Will you so?  Duke. 
And though I would not use force, I confess,  
Might I obtain your Love by Gentleness,  
Yet if you force me to't—  Em. 
Stay my Lord— And now you talk of force,  
Pardon me, Womankind, if I confess  
Poor womens' frailties, and their weaknesses;  
Who are just like Towns, weak and unfortified,  
Unable Force and Violence to abide,  
Or Yaugs and Pleasure-Boats, that straight are lost,  
When they on Rude and Boisterous Seas are tossed.  
No wonder then, they neither can withstand,  
Danger of storms at Sea, nor force on Land.  Duke. 
True, Lady, you understand aright,  
How weak you are, and are excused by't.  Cal. 
But I shall ne'er excuse her.  Em. 
And now i've gone so far, I will confess  
Their Minds, as well as Body's weaknesses;  
For Virtue and Honour in them,  
Are not the same things, as they are in men.  
But all their strength is in Infirmity,  
Their Honour is but fear of Infamy.  
Virtue, but fear of Vice, and they'd be glad  
Their Actions should by Force, be lawful made.  
For 'tis th'unlawfulness they fear alone,  
And Force makes all things lawful, where't does come.  Cal. 
O shameful confession?  Em. 
And now, my Lord, having thus much confessed,  
How frail and weak we are, ' tdoes only rest,  
I throw myself into your arms to hide,  
Those blushes I 'm▪ m ashamed should be espied.  [She snatches out his Poniard, instead of embracing him. Duke. 
Ha! What's this?  Cal. 
I was afraid  
She would have yielded.  Duke. 
What mean you Lady!  Em. 
You said  
You would not force me, and now you shall not Sir,  
Here's that from Force, shall render me secure—  
Tell me of Force? Know, should you offer it,  
I'd sooner die, than e'er I'd suffer it.  Cal. 
Mine own dear wife again!  Duke. 
You won't turn Lucrece?  Em. 
No, but I'll keep you  
From turning Tarquin.  Cal. 
And so shall this here too.  Draws. Duke. 
You show your courage now, but I should show  
But little, to be frighted with what you do.  Em. 
Forbear, my Lord, as you love my life forbear,  
As you love your own life do: See you not there  
That valiant Moor does threatening of you, stand  
With Terror in his look, and Death in's hand.  Duke. 
Ha!— The Vilain's looks are grim  
And terrible indeed, and I'm afraid of him—!  
Well Lady,  
What I have done, I only did to try  
Your Faith unto your Lord, and Constancy:  
But what you've done, I do so ill resent,  
As I shall shortly make you to repent,  
And understand too, that I was not born  
A Prince, to be made subject unto scorn.  Exit. Em. 
I'm glad he's gone, and for the timely aid  
Of this brave Moor, were Calimachus but dead,  
(As Heaven defend) I easily should believe  
The genius of's dead Lord, in him did live—  Enter Althaea. 
Come, where are you? You must be always leaving me here alone,  
Either wait closer, or I'll provide me of one  
That shall assure yourself— Look to't.  Exit. Alt. 
Ay say you so? Then 'tis time to look to't indeed, and you  
For venomous spite, shall find too e'er I've done,  
A Woman threatened is a Aspic trod upon.  Exit. Manet Calimachus. Cal. 
Where's this Palemon? I'm great with Joy, and long  
To be delivered of it, would he would come:  
For as by Communication, Griefs grow less,  
So Joy and Gladness does as much increase.   

SCENE V.  Clymias, Cleobulo, Calimachus, Palemon after. Cle. 
Oh have we found you? Must you be loit'ring here,  
And leave us all the work to do without? Come your ways and be hanged.  Cly. 
You are like your Fellow Baboons it seems,  
Who won't speak, because they will not work,  
But ' 'tshall not serve your turn— Get you gone I say.  Shoves him, and he kicks him. 
O horrible Insolence! Was ever seen the like?  Cle. 
Indeed Fellow, Clymias has made somewhat bold with you  
Behind, I must confess; and having begun on the windy side of you,  
May chance come about, just in your Face at last.  Cly. 
For new comers, to have no more respect and reverence  
To old Officers of the House! and Principal Officers too.  
Grooms of the Chamber, who by their office don't  
Go in querpo only to be kicked I hope.  Enter Palemon. Cle. 
There's no talking to him; but here comes my Lord Palemon,  
Best complain to him.  Cly. 
Marry, and will, my Lord, the Moor hear his Grown  
So insolent to kick and abuse us, for only offering to make him work.  Pal. 
He served you well enough, for what have you to do with him,  
Who are only to look after the Fire and Lights,  
And now and then the Broom?  Cly. 
My Lord, you know we're officers above stairs,  Pal. 
Ay— to be kicked down, if you grow insolent.  
High officers indeed, Commanders of the Coal-Basket and under Fuellers,  
Superintendants of the Tongues and Fire shovel,  
Snuffers and Candlesticks.  Cle. 
We are well holp up  
To complain to him.  Pal. 
And does the Vails of your office, as Coals, droppings of Wax,  
And Candles-ends, make you so proud as to offer  
To compare with him!  Cly. 
Ha day! he'll make him  
Our Master shortly!  Enter Calimachus. Pal. 
Go, get you gone, and know  
You're no companions for him, nor he for you.  Cle. 
Come, we'd best be gone,  
For he's too well seconded now;  
But if we catch him alone,  
We'll make him pay for this.  
Would he'd but offer to kick me once, you should see  
How I'd handle him.  Exeunt. Manent Calimachus and Palemon. Cle. 
O Friend, I longed to meet with you!  Pal. 
Wherefore!  Cle. 
To tell you that I'm o'er joyed.  Pal. 
With what?  Cle. 
For I'm confirmed at last,  
That my Emiliae is as pure and chaste,  
As Ice or Crystal,  
And Ermine on the Snow,  
In all their ways, could not more purer go.  Pal. 
I told you so, and you'd not believe me.  
Well, and what are you resolved to do now?  Cal. 
What? but go and discover myself unto her straight.  
What ecstasy will there be? What Ravishment?  
Joy 'bove all joys, Content▪ 'bove all content:  
I'm ecstasied and ravished, with the very thought  
Of it already!— But stay, who have we hear?  
More Visitants?   

SCENE VI.  Aurindo meeting Althaea, etc. Aur. 
Althaea, well met, I was just a seeking you.  Alt. 
And I'm glad of it; for I was just a thinking of you.  
And what service can I do you now?  Aur. 
Only I desire  
You'd help me to the speech of your Lady.  Alt. 
Marry come up here,  
Will no body, but my Lady, serve your turn?  
And am not I good enough for you, I pray?  Aur. 
Mistake me not good Althaea,  
I'd only speak with her from my Lord the Prince,  
Who remembers him t'ye by this.  A t. 
Cry mercy— A noble Prince he is,  
And liberal withal I'll say that for him,  
And he's just of my mind for this.  
Money's like muck, that's profitable while  
'Tis spread abroad, and does enrich a soil.  
But when 'tis kept and hoarded up, methinks,  
'Tis just like a Dunghill that lies still and stinks—  
Well, last time he was here with my Lady,  
He was in a mighty fright, so were we all,  
He should have been discovered.  Cal. 
D'ye hear! How sh'has been visited?  Alt. 
And did, my Lord, but know what pains I take  
To bring him and my Lady together—  Cal. 
He knows it, thou damned Bawd,  
And thou shalt know he does too.  Aside. Alt. 
Well, for your Lord's sake, I'll do you all the service I can,  
In bringing you to my Lady; and as for you,  
Although I've partly made a vow,  
Never to marry, yet I do not know  
How I should be tempted, should you offer to marry me.  Aur. 
But I'll promise you  
I'll never tempt you,  Aside. 
Though, for my Lord's sake, I must flatter her—  
And dear Althaea, if ever I marry any woman,  
I'll promise you, it shall be you.  Alt. 
Why gra-mercy for that yet: and on that condition  
I'll bring you to my Lady—  
This comforts me to the very heart now.  Exeunt. Manent Calimachus and Palemon. Cal. 
Why now am I like one  
Who had at Sea newly escaped one storm,  
And even arrived unto the Haven, when  
Bv an other he's straight hurried to Sea again—  
The Prince visit her too!  Pal. 
So did the Duke you see,  
Yet had no reason for your jealousy,  
That Thorn at least you are delivered from:  Cal. 
Ay— But what avails it one  
Has many pricks him, for easing of his pain,  
To have one plucked and all the rest remain?  Pal. 
Consider besides too—  Cal. 
Talk to me no more,  
I'm more jealous than e'er I was before;  
And see, 'tis the general corruption of them all,  
E'er since their Mother, the first woman's fall,  
And eating fruit of the forbidding Tree;  
To long for things forbidden, as well as she.  Exit. Manet Palemon. Pal. 
Well, I never was married;  
And where I ever shall, I cannot tell.  
But if this be the fate of marriage, to be in Hell;  
Of loathing, if's wife be fow!; and if fair, to be  
In Purgatory of Jealousy. Marry who's list for me.  Enter Althaea and Exit Palemon. Alt. 
So I've brought him to my Lady, and she  
Was nothing so much offended, as I thought she'd be.  
Whence I conceive.  
She may be tempted with handsome Boys, as well as I,  
And all her simp'ring is but Hypocrisy—   

SCENE VII.  The Duchess, Cleora, Althaea. 
The Duchess! What does she here I wonder!  Dutch. 
Art sure he's gone to Emilia's?  Cle. 
Most certain, Madam,  
And Althaea had the introducing him.  Alt. 
What's this?  Dutch. 
Why then I see  
'Tis to Emilia he's goes, when he makes such haste from me.  Alt. 
She has heard it seems  
Of the Duke's visiting my Lady.  Dutch. 
I told you he had  
Some Mistress to whom he his addresses made,  
And Spring without Flowers, Autumn without Fruit you'll find  
Sooner, than without Love a youthful mind—  
And Althaea must be his Bawd too  
That Witch, that old Hag— go seek her out and bring  
Her to me presently, I'll make her confess  
Their secret Meetings or Tortures shall express it from her.  Alt. 
I'd best confess e'er she puts me to the Rack,  
I don't know how my bones will hold out, beshrew me.  
And I should be loath to try.  C.e. 
See, Madam, she's here.  Alt. 
Indeed an't please your Highness, I must confess  
He visits my Lady sometimès.  [Speaks fearfully. Dutch. 
O does he so!  Alt. 
But 'tis against my will,  
And against my Ladies too, I'll say that for her,  Dutch. 
Worse and Worse.  
I could easily pardon  
His preferring her love to mine, but to prefer  
Her hate, or, what's as bad, Indifferency  
Unto my love is such an Indignity  
I never shall forgive.   

SCENE VIII.  The Duke, Agenor, etc. Duke 
Gone after the Boy say you?  Age. 
I can assure your Highness.  Duke. 
Why this is fine,  
Has she no more care of her honour nor mine,  
But she must run  
Rambling and gadding after every one.  
But is not that she there?  Dutch. 
Why now  
Emilia is his Mistress, I see,  
And her he follows, when he flies from me.  Duke. 
How comes she to know that I wonder?  
This is a new business, and I who thought  
For to catch her here— Now myself am caught.  Dutch. 
The Duke! 'Tis strange to see him here?  Duke. 
I'd best make no secret, then of what she knows already.  
Lest she imagine there's some farther secret in't  
Then what she knows— Madam, 'tis true  
I visit Emilia sometimes, but 'tis only to  
Comfort her in absence of her Lord.  Dutch. 
How's this?  
This as a discovery I looked not for—  
'Tis well, my Lord, you're very charitable grown,  
To visit Ladies when their Husbands are from home,  
Though you'd scarce think it Charity in us.  
Should we visit other Lady's Husbands thus—  
I'faith, I'faith,  
Is this your hunting? I'm glad I know it,  
But I must go seek out this Boy, who is so dear unto me,  
As who ever would deprive me of him,  
As easily might take away  
The Lions and the famished Tiger's prey.  Exit. Duke. 
She's angry I see  
At my visiting Emilia, so let her be.  
And if she raise a storm with Emilia's name,  
I with Aurindoes can lay it straight again—  
And now I may be more free and bold,  
For your great spirits when theyare once controlled,  
' Stead of amending their faults, be come but more  
Bold and audacious, than they were before.  Exit. Manet Althaea. Alt. 
I'm glad theyare gone, and I safe here,  
The Duchess threatenings put me in mighty fear:  
For her calling me Witch and Bawd, 'twas no great matter, because  
Perhaps it was not without some desert.  
But her calling me old Hag, went to my very heart.   

SCENE IX.  Emilia, Aurindo, Calimachus, Palemon, etc. Cal. 
Now let's observe them.  Em, 
Prithee good Boy no more,  
Pity so much handsomeness, should be  
So unhandsomely employed,  
And so much good language cast away, upon  
So bad a cause— Sure Boy  
Thy Master loves thee not, that he would employ  
Thee, in so base an office no Catchpoles, nor  
No Common-hangmans', ever could be more—  
A Bawd, a Pander!  Alt. 
'Em! The office is a good office, and no dispraise  
To any, an honourable one nowadays.  Aside. Em. 
No Boy— So much I love thee—  Cal. 
Mark that.  Em. 
As find out somewhat herein I may do thee good,  
W d I shall gladly do't, but I should do  
An e harm by granting of this suit of thine,  
The make thee guilty of an others crime.  
And  Aur. 
She instructs me virtuously, and somewhat here,  
Seems to persuade me, that I need not fear  
To discover myself and fortune to her, who knows  
But she may be so nobly generous  
To help me in my love.  
Hinder me I'm sure she can't— I'll try  
'tis but my blushes lost, at most, and I  
Can never lose them more innocently than now.  
Madam, I should desire to speak a word with you  
In private.  Em. 
With me! what is't?  Cal. 
Now they've some secret to whisper.  Aur. 
If ever Irena of Argos name  
Had happiness, you should hear it, I'm the same  
Unfortunate Princess, witness that portrait there  
In better times and fortune drawn for her.  Em. 
How's this!  Cal. 
What! taking presents? nay, then 'tis clear,  
Sh'as sold herself, and he has purchased her:  
For presents are  
But Cupid's Press-money, to serve him in his war,  
But earnest of  
A bargain, where she but sells her liberty;  
And afterwards there's nothing she can deny.  
Now she looks on's present, now on him,  
As if she knew not which she did most esteem.  Em. 
I'm fully satisfied, and doubt of it no more,  
But ask your pardon, I knew you not before.  Aur. 
No wonder, Madam, for I'm no more the same  
Person I was, but have thanged it with my name.  
And never was so lost a creature as I, as you  
I'm sure will say, when you my fortune know.  Cal. 
Again at their whispering?  
They have some secret now  
To whisper again, none but themselves must know.  
And I can't imagine what't should be,  
But only some plot or other to cuckold me—  
Mean time theyare so close together, as if they were  
Transfusing souls into each other's ear;  
And seem so well agreed, as she appears  
Informed with his soul, he informed with hers—  
Oh now they've done it seems.  Aur. 
Thus, Madam, you see  
How far your goodness has imbold'ned me,  
To discover a secret tie, which I should still  
Keep in my Breast, if it were possible.  Em. 
And be assured, I'll keep it as secret here,  
As if it still in your own bosom were,  
And, wherein may I serve you?  Aur. 
Only, Madam, when the Prince next visits you,  
You d show him some kindness— That he  
Mayn't think he sent me here unto you in vain,  
And oft hereafter, may send me here again.  Em. 
This, and what ever I may in honour do,  
Assure yourself, I'll gladly do for you.  
And I do hope e'er long to let you see,  
You not deceived yourself, in trusting me.  Cal. 
See, she's ready to embrace him by Heaven!  Aur. 
Your noble goodness, Madam, does take me so,  
As I must needs embrace you e'er I go;  
And these embraces here shall be a tie  
To show I'm bound unto you eternally.   

SCENE X.  The Duchess enters, and seeing them embracing starts back. Cal. 
By Heaven I'll kill them both.  [Offers to draw, Palemon closes with him, and leads him out. Pal. 
Fie, fie.  Em 
When shall I see you again?  Aur. 
‛ Soon as I can,  
Assure yourself.  Em. 
Remember your promise then.  Exeunt several ways. Manet Duchess. Duchess. 
Was ever greater impudence than this!  
In public thus for to embrace and kiss!  
No Man, although with Lust, he were ne'er so hot,  
Nor Woman ne'er so impudent, would do't.  
I am enraged at it, and now burn more  
With hate, than e'er I did with love before,  
And swear by Heaven, I'll be revenged on both—  
For her— I hate and loathe  
Her now, worse than a Snake or Toad.  
And for him, ungrateful as he is, seeing he would  
Not have me for a Friend, I ll let him see  
What 'tis to have me for an enemy.  Exit.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  The Prince's Lodgings. The Prince, Aurindo after. Pr. 
‛ WOnder Aurindo does not come away,  
Nor know I what t'imagine of his stay.  
But this I know,  
That as his news is either good or bad,  
I shall be happy, or unhappy made—  Enter Aurindo. 
O Aurindo welcome,  
Welcome a thousand times!  
I have expected thee, just as Merchants do  
Their Factors, who to some rich Countries go  
To fetch them Treasures home, and how, and how?  
Thy looks are cheerful, I hope thy news is so.  Aur. 
Why, my Lord, at my first coming, I did find  
Her beyond hope and expectation kind.  Pr. 
Good, excellent, and then!  Aur. 
She was content  
To hear me, and you know that's half consent.  Pr. 
Better and better. Dear Aurindo, I see  
Thou were't born to make me happy.  Aur. 
Pray Heaven I be.  Pr. 
On, on I prithee.  Aur. 
For th'rest I'll only say,  
You and your love are in so fair a way,  
As there are those here in Micena, who  
Love you, my Lord, and dearly love you too.  Pr. 
And is it she?  Aur. 
Let it suffice, 'tis one  
Who does not yet desire for to be known:  
But who it is, my Lord, you'll shortly know,  
And be, I hope, happy i'th' knowledge too.  Pr. 
Nay then 'tis she, I know; for there is none  
Can ever make me so, but she alone.  Aur. 
Let all Maids see the falsehood of these Men,  
And learn from him, how th' are deceived by them.  [Aside. Pr. 
Ah dearest Aurindo, I cannot choose,  
But thus embrace thee for thy joyful news.  Aside. Aur. 
How joyful, and how happy should I be,  
If these embraces were for love of me.  
But all the stream of his affection  
Does only towards happy Emilia run;  
And I'm but made the Channel, as it were,  
Through which, he but conveys his love to her.  Pr. 
On, prithee on, more of Emilia.  Aur. 
My Lord, for th'present I've no more to say,  
But only, I hope next time you send me there,  
To bring you yet more joyful news from her.  Pr. 
And be assured, that suddenly shall be  
I'th' mean time all my comfort is in thee.  Exit. Aur. 
And all my discomfort is in you alone—  
They hear? Nay then 'tis time for to be gone,   

SCENE II.  The Scene the Court. Olinda, Cleora. Oli. 
Prithee tell me Cleora,  
Were't ever in love?  Cle. 
Yes Faith once, and methought 'twas pretty sport;  
But never so much as my Lady with Aurindo,  
To sigh and sigh like a dry Pump,  
Or broken winded Bellows,  
Or leave my Meat, or lose my Sleep for it.  Oli. 
Thou were't the wiser; for indeed  
'Tis not worth so much ado—  
But is't not strange!  
That loving him so much as she did, she now  
Should hate him as much!  Cle 
Not a whit, for your great persons  
Like great Machines', have a violent swing,  
Sways them to th'extremity in every thing.  
Which is the reason theyare never moderate,  
Nor in their Passions of Love nor Hate—  
But is't not pretty she should accuse him to the Duke,  
For offering to ravish us?  Oli. 
Would he had I'faith,  
He should not have found it so hard a matter—  
Had she said, we have been ready to ravish him  
‛ I had been more likely.  Cle. 
Fie, how thou talk'st! Art not ashamed?  Oli. 
No shame at all,  
For I'll prove it Women are more honest now,  
And sin less, than they did in former times.  Cle. 
How so?  Oli. 
Why? before,  
They went to't by stealth, but now they do't openly.  
There's one sin less, and then there's honesty  
In plain dealing you know.  Cle. 
theyare much beholding t'ye for defending them so well.  Oli. 
Nay, I'll stand for th'reputation  
Of our Sex, long as I live.  Cle. 
You stand for't fairly indeed— But  
Here comes the Duke and Duchess.   

SCENE III.  The Duke, Duchess, Agenor, Cleanthes, etc. Dutch. 
‛ Beseech your Highness banish him the Court,  Duke. 
We can't in justice, on the bare report  
Of those your Women, which can't be proved, unless  
Aurindo's self should his own crime confess.  
Besides, you know, he's our Son's Favourite,  
And we don't know how he'll approve of it.  Dutch. 
Best let him tarry then, till he has made  
Lust and Libidiousness a common trade,  
And he at last be so outrageous grown,  
To attempt the Chastities of every one.  Duke 
How does this accusation agree  
With's former bashfulness and modesty?  Dutch. 
More modest and bashful he was before,  
Now makes the crime of falling from't the more.  Duke. 
But none, without first passing by the mean,  
Straight fall from t'one unto the other extreme.  Dutch. 
And I could tell you that just so did he,  
Who made th'attempting of their Chastity,  
Only a degree unto the attempting mine,  
But that led not accuse him of a crime;  
For which by th' Laws he ought to die.  Cle. 
How's this?  Duke. 
If this your accusation be true,  
We'll not only banish him th'Court, but Country too.  
Nay, take his life for it,— who's there does wait?  
Go some and see him apprehended straight.  Exit Guard. Cle. 
But I'll go first and prevent it, if I can.  [Exit hastily. Duke 
Now, Madam, are you satisfied?  Dutch. 
I am,  
And thank you for your Justice; and now, to let you see  
You've but revenged yourself, as well as me.  
Would you believe it? I found him but to day,  
Embracing and kissing your Emilia?  Duke. 
Call her not mine, for now I hate her more,  
Then ever I esteemed and loved her heretofore;  
As by th'revenge I'll take, you soon shall see,  
And she soon feel— Agenor follow me.  [Exit with Agenor. Dutch. 
I know not what revenge he means to take▪  
But for th'ungrateful Boy, I mean, to make  
Him know, before I've done with him, that he  
Ruined himself, when he offended me.   

SCENE IU.  Cleanthes, Aurindo after. Exit Dutchest. Cle. 
There goes one,  
Who proves that nothing's more insatiate  
Than Woman, either in their loves or hate;  
And theyare strange Creatures to be pleased, no gentle Lamb,  
Nor harmless Dove was e'er more mild and tame.  
Displeased, no Tiger nor Lion robbed of s prey,  
Was e'er more fell and furious than they—  
But see unto my wish.  Enter Aurindo. 
Here comes Aurindo.  
Oh, Madam, quickly fly,  
And save your life, it is but lost else.  Aur. 
Why?  Cle. 
Let it suffice the Duchess seeks your life,  
That is but lost, less you fly and prevent the danger.  Aur. 
Whoever flies their danger to prevent,  
Makes themselves guilty, though innocent.  Cle. 
When Princes seek their lives, 'tis an offence  
To go about to prove their innocence,  
Equal to being guilty; wherefore go,  
For all the Court is up in search of you,  
As on some great and general hunting day,  
When each one eagerly pursues the prey.  Aur. 
If this be so, I like a hun'ed Dear,  
Will fly to Erminia's, and shelter there.  
For none can better save my life, and I  
To none would owe my life more willingly.  Cle. 
Go quickly then, and save yourself as secretly as you can—  
So now I'll leave you.  Brings her to the door.  

SCENE V.  Emilia's Palace. Clymias, Cleobulo, Calimachus after. Exit Cleanthes t'other way. Cle. 
Well, and how d'ye like the Moor? our fellow  
Servant now?  Cly. 
Why, as thou'dst do a resty jade,  
Who would not stir a foot for thee;  
Or a high mettled Horse,  
That when thou spur'st him, or offerest but to check  
The Reins, rears up, and's ready to break thy neck—  
ud's so, we were deceived in him.  
We thought to put all the work of the house upon him,  
And we may do it ourselves, for aught I see,  
You may bid the Post do things as well as him,  
And the Post will stir as soon too.  Cle. 
He understands you not perhaps.  Cly. 
I know not,  
But I'm sure I understand him but too well—  
I gave him a Broom even now,  
And appointed him where to sweep  
(This was plain enough, now one would imagine)  
And what did he, but lay me over the pate  
With the Broom-staff,  
And so he served me with a Fireshovel another time.  
He'll carry no Coals I can tell you.  Cle. 
No? But I'll make him, and he'd as good eat them too,  
As refuse to do what I bid him; you shall see  
I'll make him fetch and carry like a Water-Spanniel,  
And do tricks like an Ape for me, before i've done with him.  
You know not how to handle him.  Enter Calimachus. Cly. 
Look, here he comes— Let's see now.  Cle. 
Mark then— There Sirrah, fetch.  [Throws him a Glove. Cly. 
D'ye mark how he fetches and carries for you,  
Like a Water-Spanniel.  Cle. 
He did not see it perhaps— Now mark again—  
Come over here Sirrah, here—  [Holds out his Arm for him, and leaps over. Cly. 
D'ye mark again,  
How he does tricks like an Ape for you?  Cle. 
No! But I'll make him, if he will not—  
— Why how now Sirrah, must I be troubled with ye?  
S'led I think I shall be troubled with him indeed—  [Takes him by the Shoulder, and he takes him by the Throat. 
Help, help Clymias.  Cly. 
Not I beshrew me,  
There's none knows how to handle him  
But yourself, you know.  Cle. 
The Devil shall handle him for me,  
If he be such an one—  
Vengeance on your Claws, and hooked Talons;  
He gripped me worse than a Lion does its Prey,  
Or a Hawk its Quarry.   

SCENE VI.  Palemon to them. Pal. 
Now, what's here to do?  
You have been vexing the Moor I see.  Cly. 
No indeed, forsooth, he has rather been vexing us.  Pal. 
Go too, and meddle with him no more, I charge you.  Cle. 
With all our hearts, so he'd meddle no more with us.  Exeunt. Manent Calimachus and Palemon. Pal. 
Now, how goes it?  Cal. 
O Friend, the Storms and Tempests of my Breast,  
By no comparisons can be expressed;  
Neither with those on Land, when Winds do blow,  
As Fabric of the World they'd overthrow;  
Or those at Sea, when Waves do rise so high,  
You'd think their very Billows touched the Sky—  
For her being visited by the Prince and Duke,  
That now's a thing I easily could brook.  
But to be visited by a Villain-Page,  
And kissed and embraced too, does ever enrage  
Me unto madness—   

SCENE VII.  Emilia, Aurindo, etc. Althaea secretly following. 
And see, he's here again!  
And shall we never then be rid of him?  
There is no way, but kill him.  Offers to draw, but is withheld. Pal. 
Yet again?  
There are hundred others, besides killing him,  
And there's no necessity to do that, which we  
Should never do for any necessity.  Em. 
Fear not, but be assured whilst you are here,  
You are as safe, as you at Argos were;  
And I assure myself this place, and you  
Shall be as free from violation too.  Aur. 
It were so high sacrilege, to violate  
A place, Madam, your presence does consecrate. ;  
I should as soon the violation fear,  
In Heaven itself, of Saints and Angels there.  Em. 
If any thing, render you free from violence,  
'Tis not I, nor th'place, but only your innocence.  
For more security yet,  
I'll lock you up here in my Cabinet,  
Mean time, pray think it not a prison, but  
Rather a Sanctuary where you're put.  Aur. 
I think so, Madam, or if't a prison be,  
To be your prisoner's above all liberty.  She locks her up, then goes the other way. Alt. 
Well then, I see  
My Lady will get Aurindo away from me,  
And then she kills me quite;  
For who takes my coin, does but as robbers do,  
Who takes my love, robs me, and kills me too.  
I shall remember this.  Exit. Enter Calimachus and Palemon. Cal. 
Well— What think you?  
Are these fit Cabinet pieces for Ladies now?  Pal. 
Till more of her intention I know,  
I cannot tell, whether they or no. t,  
For oft for want of knowing their inten  
We judge those guilty who are innocent.  Cal. 
Won't you have me believe my eyes, and what I see?  Pal. 
Believe your eyes, but not your jealousy;  
Which like the Jauness, so infects our sight  
With colour of't, we nothing see aright.  
And mark the countenance of the Boy, 'twas fear  
Rather than love, it seems, did bring him here.  Cal. 
Nay, than we shall ne'er have done— But who have we here,  
More Visitants?   

SCENE VIII.  Agenor, Althaea, Emilia after, etc. Age. 
The Duke has sent me on a Message here,  
I would some other, rather than I might bear.  
But who by Princes are commanded, they  
Must not dispute their pleasures, but obey—  
Is your Lady within?  Alt. 
Yes Sir.  Age. 
Pray tell her then, there  
'S a Messenger from th'Duke desires to speak with her.  Alt. 
I shall.  Exit. Pal. 
What message should this be?  Cal. 
I'll lay my life,  
Some amorous one or other to my wife.  Enter Emilia. Em. 
Now Sir, your business.  Age. 
Madam, 'tis such I fear,  
Will go nigh to break your heart, when you shall hear.  Em. 
What's that?  Age. 
Imagine but the worst that can be said,  
A and it is that— my Lord your Husband's dead.  Cal. 
How's this?  Laughs. Em. 
How dead!  Age. 
Why, cast away at Sea,  
And drowned in his return from Attica.  Em. 
My Lord and Husband dead?  
Nay then, I've lived too long.  Sounds. Cal. 
Bravely counterfeited on all sides.  Pal. 
Why, Madam, Madam.  Age. 
This would be the effect,  
O'th'news I brought, I ever did suspect;  
But I must go and tell the Duke of it.  Exit. Pal. 
Help for shame here, will you let her die,  
When you may remedy it so easily,  
By discovering you are alive.  Cal. 
Paw Man, I know  
An easier way to remedy it than so.  
Let us but go and leave her here alone,  
No Woman e'er died for grief, when she was alone.  [Exit. Pal. 
Why Madam, Madam, what mean you? will you die  
For a false report? Calimachus lives, upon  
My life he does.  Em. 
Ay, in t'other world where I,  
Will presently go to bear him company.  Pal. 
Nay in this, and if I show  
You him not alive e'er to morrow, ne'er trust me more.  Em. 
You say this only to comfort me now.  Pal. 
'Tis true, I do so Madam, and what I've said,  
I will make good, wherefore be comforted.  Em. 
Why the Duke should do this, I do not know,  
Unless to be revenged on me; if so,  
'Tis but a poor revenge to tell a lie,  
Which like false Coyn's discovered presently.  
And when discovered, turns to th' Author's shame,  
And gets them only a base Liars name.  
What ever his intention was, I'll fit  
Him for't, and seem as I believed it.  
So shall I innocently revenged be,  
And deceive those, who'd have deceived me.  Exit Enter t'other way.  

SCENE IX.  Clymias, Cleobulo, Althaea, after Palemon. Cle. 
O Clymias,  
We have lost the best Master as ever servants had!  
Oh, oh, oh!  Cly. 
'Tis true indeed, but never cry for that;  
We did not all come together, and shall not  
All go together, you know.  Cle. 
How ever we must cry now, Oh, oh, oh.  Enter Althaea crying too. Alt. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Pal. 
These people cry in consert;  
What a caterwauling they make?  [The servants go out crying. Alt. 
Oh, my Lord, my Lord, what shall I do? what shall I do?  Pal. 
Why prithee, hold thy peace, and make not such a noise.  Alt. 
Why, are your ears so dainty? they can endure no noise, I pray?  Pal. 
Nay, prithee don't leave crying, and fall to scolding now.  Alt. 
Scold! Who scolds I pray? Goodly goodly!  Pal. 
Will' thold thy peace then?  Alt. 
Perhaps I will, perhaps I wont, what's that to you?  
Mayn't one speak for you, I pray? no wonder indeed?  Pal. 
Again! Twenty Pies and Jays,  
Taken in Lim-twigs, make not such a chattering noise,  
As one Woman when she sets upon it once.  Alt. 
O, my Lord, my Lord, what shall I do? what shall I do.  Exit crying. Enter Emilia the other way in Mourning. Em. 
So, now let them come  
When e'er they please, I am prepared for them;  
Nor can they say  
I fain, to mourn his death whilst he's away;  
For death, and absence, only differ in this,  
This a short death, that, a long absence is.  Enter Althaea. Alt. 
Madam the Prince is here without.  Em. 
I looked for him—  Aside. 
Go presently then, conduct him in.  Exit Althaea. 
If all things in this visit falls out right.  
I may find means to serve the Princess by't.   

SCENE X.  The Prince, Emilia, etc. Pr. 
Madam, to omit the common Ceremony  
Of Comforting and of Condoling w'ye,  
Which Verbal Comforts rather do increase  
Our Griefs and Sorrows, than any ways make less.  
Instead of that, I bring you a real one,  
And in lieu of your dead Lord, offer you a living one.  
And such an one, I without boast may say,  
equal the dead Calimachus every way.  
I mean myself.  Em. 
I'm glad of this—  Aside. 
And more, my Lord, in deeds to answer you,  
Than words, against the common custom too  
Of other Widows, who when their Lords are dead,  
Refuse by any means— to be comforted,  
But sigh and weep in company, when they  
But laugh, perchance, when company's away:  
Were I assured your meaning real were—  Pr. 
As real as that of dying Men, I swear.  Em. 
Come to my Chamber in the dark to night  
(For yet my shame can hardly brook the light,)  
And there the sacred words of marriage past,  
And hands to hands, as hearts to hearts made fast—  
I say no more, you understand the rest  Pr. 
I do, and count myself, most highly blessed.  Em. 
Look then you do not fail.  Pr. 
Which if I do▪  
May life, nay what is more, you fail me too.  Em. 
Go, and make hast then.  Pr. 
Would day would go as fast,  
And this most happy night, make half that haste  [Exit. Em. 
So now  
Will I dress the Princess in woman's clothes,  
That so i th' dark he may deceived be,  
And marry her, when he comes instead of me—  
Pardon me sacred Truth, thou know'st that 'tis  
Not, to violate thy Laws, that I do this.  
But for a greater good 'tis only done,  
To save thy Laws from Violation.  Exit. Manet Althaea. Alt. 
hay damn! this is fine,  
The Prince and Page too! She might have left  
Me him, at least, to be piddling with i'faith.  
But since she has so little Conscience,  
I'll have as little.  
And go, and tell the Duchess all; so shall I be  
Revenged on her, for disobliging me.  Exit. Manent Calimachus and Palemon. Cal. 
Why, here's brave haste!  
Never was Widows mourning sooner passed,  
Nor ever Widow sooner married  Pal. 
I tell you, she knows you are not dead,  
And there's some plot in't.  Cal. 
Ay, the plot is clear,  
The Prince to night's to come and marry her,  
‛ Less I forbid the Banes, which I shall do,  
And some of them shall dearly pay for't too.  Pal. 
Then I must tell you, with liberty of a Friend,  
This way your jealousy ne'er will have end.  
If you continue to interpret thus,  
Toth'worfer sense all that she says and does▪  Cal. 
Whilst you interpret all to the best, and I  
To th'worst.  
It follows necessarily in this affair,  
Nor you, nor I, compotent Judges are.  
Wherefore, till some more competent we get,  
Let it alone, and talk no more of it:  
But pray, go to the Port, and if perchance  
Any arrive, may give intelligence  
That I am here, divert them dexterously,  
Till I have finished my discovery.  Pal. 
I shall, though I'm loath to leave you here a'one,  
Lest you should take occasion, when I am gone  
To do what you've so oft attempted.  Cal. 
Never fear, but be assured I'll nothing do,  
But what in honour I am bound unto.  Pal. 
This point of honour is a thing so nice,  
Sometimes it may be Virtue, sometimes Vice;  
Sometimes be bad, sometimes again be good,  
According as 'tis rightly understood.  
And oft for want of understandinged right,  
' Stead of being honoured, we're dishonoured by't.  Cal. 
Go, go, you are so cautious still for me,  
I'll understand it as I ought, you'll see—  [Exit Palemon. 
So, I'm glad I've shifted him away—  
For what we're resolved to do, it is not fit  
To let them know, may hinder th'doing it;  
And he's of too mild disposition,  
To know my desperate resolution—  
For first, I'm resolved the Boy shall die, he ne'er  
Shall live to boast the favours he ' has from her.  
Then since I  
Am dead to her, she shall be dead to me.  
And th'hour of her marriage with the Prince, shall be  
Her hour of death.  
My honour is engaged in it, and I  
Am absolutely resolved that she shall die.  
This hand shall kill her— These eyes shall see't,  
Although this heart burst at the sight of it.  Exit.   

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  
The duchess's Cabinet.  The Duchess, Althaea, Cleora. Dutch. 
THanks Althaea, and th'Duke shall thank thee too  
For thy intelligence. I'll but only go  
Inform him of it, and straight follow thee:  
Mean time go home, and look you ready be,  
To give us entrance when we come.  Alt. 
I shall.  Exit. Gle. 
The more Traitor you.  Aside. Dutch. 
I was afraid he had escaped by flight,  
And so had frustrated my anger by't.  
But now I'll let him know  
My anger's none of these light blazing fires,  
Which gives a flash or two, and then expires.  
But Elementary Fire that's its own  
Fuel and flame, and ne'er does less become.  
And this his flying to Emily's,  
My fire of Anger more incensed has.  
As if h'had such confidence in her, or else she  
Such power to defend his life, and him from me.  
So this is all he has obtained by flight,  
To make himself, and cause more guilty by't;  
And where before less punishment might suffice,  
Now, without mercy, 'tis resolved he dies.  Exit. Manet Cleora. Cle. 
Alas poor Aurindo! Introth, I pity him.  
But this is a just judgement on him now,  
For his making me lose my longing, when time was—  
Would I had some body to tell this news to now,  
For never any Colic, Strangury,  
Nor other retentive disease; no not the pangs  
Of childbirth itself, was ever half so painful  
As the Retention of news, to one who longs  
To be delivered of it.   

SCENE II.  The Court. Olindo, Agenor, and Cleanthes after, etc. O Olindo, 
have you heard the news?  Oli. 
No, what news?  Cle. 
I'll tell you— But you must say nothing.  Oli. 
Pho, you know  
No dying body holds things faster than I  
Do secrets.  Cle. 
Why, Aurindo whom we thought was fled,  
Is yonder at Emilia's discovered,  
And theyare sending to apprehend him.  Oli. 
Alas? He is but dead then,  
And I could find in my heart to beg his life.  
But for bringing my Maiden head in question,  
Would I had some body.  Enter Agenor. 
To tell this to— O Agenor, have you heard the news?  Age. 
What news?  Oli. 
Why, I'll tell you— But you must say nothing.  Age. 
That's understood.  Oli. 
Why, Aurindo is apprehended at Emilia's,  
And is now at his arraignment.  Cle. 
There he has added that unto it now.  Aside. Age. 
This will be news unto Cleanthes here—  Enter Cleanthes. O Cleanthes, 
have you heard the news of Aurindo?  Clea. 
What of him?  Age. 
Why, he's condemned to death,  
And just now theyare leading him to execution.  Clea. 
Nay then 'tis time to discover who she is—  
I'll presently to the Duke.  Exit. Clea. 
There he has added another circumstance more to't!— This is fine Embroidery.  
There wants only his speech on the Scaffold now,  
To make the news complete.  Oli. 
I'faith, I'faith, I see you men,  
Can as little hold secrets as we women.  Clea. 
But of all women, commend me to you—  
Did I tell you Aurindo was apprehended?  
And to be tried for his life?  Oli. 
And did I tell you! That he was already condemned to die,  
And just now leading to his execution?  [To Agenor. 
And did not you promise me to say nothing?  Cle. 
And you me?  Oli. 
Ay, that was before I heard it;  
But after, I could not hold no more than you,  
Whom, I know would have burst, if you had not come out with it.  Cle. 
Well, I'll take heed  
How I tell you any more secrets.  Oli. 
Mean time, I'll go and tell this to all I meet?  Cle. 
Ay, will you so? But you shall run for't then.  [Exeunt running. Manet Agenor. Age. 
A pleasant contention?  
But I'll go to Emilia's to know,  
Where this news of Aurindo be true or no.   

SCENE III.  Emilia 's Palace. Clymias, Cleobulo, Calimachus after. Exit Agenor. Cly. 
Why this Moor's a Devil;  
And now I know the reason, why they paint  
The Devil of his colour— He makes no more of beating us,  
Then Hammer-men do of Anvels, or Hemp-beaters  
Of beating Hemp. 'Tis his ordinary exercise  
Before meals, to get him an appetite,  
And afterwards to help digestion.  
We are never at quiet for him, but in our sleep;  
And shortly I look to have him fall upon us,  
Like a Nightmare in our sleep too.  Cle. 
This was your fault, for why  
Would you offer to beat him?  Cly. 
Why, because I thought he would not beat me again,  
Else I'd have seen him hanged,  
E'er I'd have meddled with him.  Cle. 
Well, there's no way now,  
But to hold together, for Hercules, they say,  
Is not strong enough for two.  Cly. 
Ay, but if he should prove stronger than Hercules now,  
That old saying would do us but little good.  Cle. 
I ll warrant you— And see where he comes here.  Cly. 
Look he becomes us away.  Cle. 
Ay— But let's not stir for him—  
Yes, I warrant you, when can you tell?  Cly. 
ud's so— Woe unto us now,  
For he has got a staff.  Cle. 
No matter, let us but hold together,  
And look you that ways, whilst I look this,  
For fear of a surprise, and there's no danger.  Cly. 
I am terribly afraid though,  
For my left Buttock never itches, but I  
Am sure of a beating— Now, now; he comes, he comes—  
Oh, oh, oh!  He yokes his Staff about their necks, and whirls them about. Cle. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Cal. 
Now will I go kill the Boy.  Throws away his Staff, and Exit. Manent Clymias and Cleobulo. Cly. 
Devil take him, a my Conscience h'as broke my neck.  Cle. 
And mine's but little better. Shame on you, are these your tricks.  
If he hold on, he'll make more work for Surgeons,  
Than twenty drunken quarrels.  Cly. 
He made me spin like a top.  Cle. 
And I imagined myself  
A Hand-mill grinding Mustardseed.  Cly. 
If he could but speak  
And give us but a reason, yet for his beating us,  
'Twould never anger me.  Cle. 
No. 'tis better as it is,  
For if I he could speak, 'twere but a word and a blow with him,  
I know him well enough.  Cly. 
But behold my Lady.  Cle. 
Then let us be gone.  Exeunt.  

SCENE IU.  Emilia's Cabinet. Emilia, Aurindo after in Woman's attire. Em. 
Now having given order without,  
For reception of the Prince, I'll in and see  
If the Princess be ready yet—  
There is a certain pleasure in doing good,  
By none but those who do it understood;  
And 'tis redoubled then, when 'tis done to those  
Are most deserving of the good one does—  Enter Aurindo in Woman's attire. 
Where are you Madam?—  
Why now you look like yourself, just as the Sun  
When after long Eclipse he here does come,  
Cheering this other Hemisphere with light;  
And with his presence makes a day of night.  Aur. 
Nay, now you flatter me.  Em. 
Flatter you those who can,  
Who are so far above it,  
As those should rather be counted envious, who  
Don't praise you, than flatterers who do—  
Where was the Prince's judgement I wonder? where  
His eyes? That after he had seen this Beauty here,  
He could ever look on any other?  Aur. 
He might well be excused, having seen your Beauty once,  
To have quite forgotten mine.  Em 
Nay, now you flatter me—  
Stay, let me help you a little.  Aur. 
Excuse me, Madam.  Em. 
Beseech you, you're not used  
To dress yourself I know.  Aur 
Nor you to dress others.  Em. 
Pray, Madam, be merry,  Aur. 
Alas! how can I be merry,  
Being to undertake an action;  
In which the wise, and rash, are mingled so,  
How to distinguish them, I do not know.  Em. 
Now let me put on your veil, and all is well—  
Why do ye tremble so?  Aur. 
How I can choose but fear?  
Considering in what danger I am here,  
And how I endanger you, should they but know,  
How you conceal me here?  Em. 
I'll warrant you— Ha! what noise is that?   

SCENE V.  The Moor rushes in with's Sword drawn, Palemon after, etc. Aur. 
Some come to apprehend me!  Em. 
Fly then straight  
Into my Closet.  Exit Aurindo and Emilia. Cal. 
What's this I see? The Boy gone, and a Woman in his place?  
There's witchcraft in it sure? And I can't believe my eyes.  (Emilia again. Em. 
What noise was this? Ha!  
The Moor here and 's Sword drawn! Help, help.  Enter Palemon. Pal. 
What means these cries Madam?  Em 
Do you not see  
The Moor with's Sword drawn? Ready to murder me?  Pal. 
If that be all, Madam, behold he's gone,  
And it's only your imagination.  Em. 
Never tell me, nor excuse him, I know  
The danger I was in, and it was more than so.  
Wherefore see presently he be sent away,  
For I'm resolved he shall no longer stay;  
Who now of late is grown so dangerous,  
There's no enduring him longer in the house.  Pal. 
Have but patience, Madam, till my Lord comes home,  
And then I promise you he shall be gone.  Em. 
Well— so long I'll suffer him, since you have promised me,  
That e'er to morrow I should see my Lord,  
And I expect you should make good your word.  [Exit, and Calimachus appears at other side. Pal. 
What have you done since I went hence? That she  
Is so implacably offended w'ye,  
She'll never more endure your sight again?  Cal. 
Truth is, I thought to have killed the Boy; and when  
I came, but think how great my wonder was,  
To find him gone, and a Woman in his place!  Pal. 
You see from hence, how you're mistaken still,  
And how your jealousy deceives you, yet you will believe it still.  Cal. 
Well, hereafter I will be  
More wary, mean time, what news from th' Port with ye?  Pal. 
All the news that's there, is you're returned, and that you're somewhere here  
Concealed in Town; wherefore, or presently  
Discover yourself, or they'll discover ye,  
And let her know yourself, what she will know  
From others shortly, whether you will or no.  Cal. 
Have but patience till night, when I shall know  
Whether I've reason for my jealousy, or no;  
Which of all the wounds incurable they call,  
Is one of the most incurable of all.  Pal. 
Ne'er say so; for there's none but cured may be,  
So only they'll apply the remedy.  Cal. 
Ah never, never that, but be assur d,  
Hurt Honour may be salved, but never cured.  
And those are living, it no more woned stead,  
Than salving of their wounds, would those are dead.  
You have heard the assignation  
Sh'as made the Prince, to marry him anon;  
And as I see the issue of this night,  
So I shall know to take my measures right.  Pal. 
Well, since you're so resolved, I'll leave you; and I  
Must only be sorry for what I can't remedy.  Exit. Cal. 
I would to Heaven this fatal night were passed.  
That I might know what to resolve at last.  
For since first hour of my jealousy,  
No damned Soul ever suffered more than I.  
And now by dear experience I find,  
There is no torment to a troubled mind.   

SCENE VI.  Althaea, Calimachus, the Prince after. Enter Althaea. Alt. 
My Lady sets me here  
To watch the Princes coming,  
And I hope he'll give me a good reward for it;  
For my Palm itches for it,  
As a Physician or Lawyers for their fees,  
And that's a good sign, however I shall nothing lose;  
For when the Duke and Duchess comes, I expect again  
A reward from them, for the betraying him.  Enter Prince. Cal. 
Oh here comes the Prince.  Pr. 
Now I am come  
'Twixt willingness and unwillingness I find,  
Thought of Irena comes into my mind;  
And how I go to give away to night,  
That to another, which only is her right.  
But 't should have sooner come, or not at all.  
For now it is too late, and my mind is all  
Upon Emilia— Now Althaea, where's your Lady?  Alt. 
Within my Lord in her Chamber, expecting you i'th' dark.  Pr. 
No matter, my Love, the way will find,  
As well 'th' dark as light, for Love is blind.  Alt. 
I'll lead you to the door, and need not tell you,  
How I've always been a ready servant to your pleasure.  Pr. 
I know it well,  
And thank you for't.  Cal. 
So, I know, at least, where to have him now,  
Although the Boy be vanished, I know not how.  Alt. 
How's this! I know it well, and thank you for't.  
These answers now, me thinks, do come far short  
Of those he was wont to give me heretofore,  
When every word with Gold was guilded o'er.  
By which I see, men give more (however it comes,)  
For unlawful pleasures, than for lawful ones.  
But now I talk of pleasure,  
I have long had a mind vuto this Moor,  
And never had opportunity before,  
To find him alone— Come then  
My pretty swarthy Rogue, let you and I  
Have a little more familiarity—  She offers to embrace him, and he shoves her away so rudely as she falls. 
A shame on you!  
Is this your familiarity with a vengeance,  
You black Shag-dog, you ugly Devil you,  
I could find in my heart to claw out his eyes—  
Beshrew  
His heart for it for me— I fear  
There's somewhat out of joint in my Crupper here.   

SCENE VII.  The Duke, Duchess, Cleanthes, Agenor, Cleora, Olinda, etc. Duke. 
Away, away,  
You tell me a story so improbable,  
I'd believe the Metamorphoses as well  
Aurindo Princess of Argos!  Cle. 
I can assure your Highness 'tis most true;  
Wherefore by the Laws of Nations, you  
Are to preserve her person inviolate.  Duke. 
We know well enough, what we're to do for that,  
And how far to preserve her inviolate; for when  
We have Aurindo, take you the Princess then.  Cle. 
And when you have him, you will easily know,  
Whether it be Aurindo or she, or no.  Dutch. 
Where is Emilia's Chamber?  
Break open the door there?  Duke. 
Stay, first knock, and if they open it not,  
Then do as you're commanded, break it open.  Within Pr. 
Who knocks there?  Duke. 
'Tis I, the Duke.  Within Pr. 
Then please your Highness only stay a while,  
And I'll come out.   

SCENE VIII.  The Prince and Aurindo veil, Calimachus at t'other door, etc. Pr. 
Fear not dearest now, you are mine, there's none  
Shall dare to touch or injure you.  Dutch. 
You my Son?  
Rather my shame, who might have married  
A Sovereign Princess, to take unto your Bed,  
An ordinary person, and a subject now.  Dutch. 
Nay worse, a base dishonourable woman too.  Cal. 
Now will I kill her even in the Princes Arms.  [Offers to draw first, as she unvails. Ha! Aur. 
I am not base, nor dishonourable, but one  
As noble, and honourable as any, excepting none.  Alt. 
How's this? Aurindo, a Woman!  Cle. 
I told you so.  Pr. 
The Princess of Argos!  Aur. 
The same,  
And now your wife.  Pr. 
I shall die for very shame  
Of my inconstancy.  Cal. 
Now 'tis clear,  
My Erminia is true, and I falsely suspected her.  
Wherefore— I'll instantly  
Go ask her pardon for my jealousy.  Exit. Alt. 
What makes him go so fast  
Towards my Lady's Chamber, I wonder!  
I'll follow and see.  Exit. Pr. 
And can you pardon me sweet?  Aur. 
I can pardon any thing, but your doubt of it.  
My fear is, you'll never trust me more, when you  
Consider but how I have deceived you now.  Pr. 
Oh more, far more, for you now have but done  
Like some charitable Physician,  
Who for to cure some wayward Patient,  
Is forced a hundred stratagems to invent.  
Which being cured, he thankfully does confess,  
And asks their pardon for his waywardness.  Dutch. 
Madam, though now I'll not excuse  
My former love to Aurindo, nor say again  
It was the Princess that I loved, not him  
Yet now I may truly say,  
I love the Princess more  
Than ever I did Aurindo heretofore.  Aur. 
And I, Madam, am doubly obliged to you  
For the love you bore me then,  
And that you bear me now.  Pr. 
But where's Erminia, who has so happily  
Deceived me?  Enter Althaea. Alt. 
Why, you shall find her in the Moors arms there within,  
He embracing her, and she embracing him.  Aur. 
It cannot be.  Duke. 
That we shall straghtways know.  
Go some of you fetch them forth; and if't be so,  
The Moor shall die, what e'er becomes of her.  Aur. 
This does to me so impossible appear  
That she so much her honour should forget,  
I'd not believe mine eyes, though they did see't.  Dutch. 
Now don't you see them?   

SCENE IX.  Duke. 
Bring them, bring them away,  
And is this the chaste, and virtuous Emilia?  
Who stood so highly on her honour, she  
Had rather die, than forfeit her chastity,  
That now's all prostitute to that Villain there,  
Who from her Bravoes, become her Adulterer—  
To the Cross with him.  Dutch. 
And let her live with shame,  
Of being branded with a strumpet's name.  Cal. 
Stay— and rather than her honour should suffer by't,  
The dumb shall speak, and Ethiope turn white.  [Discovers himself. Duke. 
How! Calimachus the Moor? I'm lost in the dismay  
Of the strange changes I have seen to day!  Cal. 
And now, I crave your Highness pardon,  
That since the Wars in Attica are done,  
Without your Licence I'm returned home.  Duke. 
You've merited so much whilst you were there,  
You can do nothing I should not pardon here.  
And I should ask your pardon too, that I  
So far have tried Emilia's constancy,  
But that you know, with no other intention  
But only to try her constancy 'twas done.  Cal. 
I know it well, my Lord— or it is best  
To seem to know no otherwise at least.  A side. Duke. 
And now, Madam, here our jealousy ends  
Of Aurindo and Emilia, and we are friends.  [They embrace. Dutch. 
And Emilia and I no less.  Em. 
Nay, leave your fleering, for you and I must part,  
You know I've given you warning.  To Althaea. Alt. 
With all my heart;  
For then— I hope your Highness, at least, will entertain me.  Duke. 
Not I, I promise you; for she  
Who's false to her, will ne'er be true to me.  Alt. 
Well then— My comfort is, when services won't do,  
I have a good Trade, at least, to trust unto.  Exit. Cy. 
We are heartily glad your Lordship is returned  
And yourself again; for you don't beat us half so much  
When you're our Lord, as when you're our fellow-servant.  Cal. 
Nor you don't deserve it half so much neither.  
But we too much forget Palemon here,  
Who has always been a faithful friend to me;  
And you have not a truer friend than he.  Em. 
Noble Palemon I do know so well,  
What he's to you and me, you need not tell.  Pal. 
And I'm so much servant to you and him,  
I know not which o'th' two I most esteem.  Duke. 
As for you, Madam, you're as welcome here,  
As if you in your own Dominions were;  
And 'tis indeed your own Dominion  
Since Argos and Micena now are both but one.  Aur. 
What e'er I am at Argos, I desire  
To be your Highness humble servant here.  Duke. 
Well then— Farewell Calimachus, and cherish Emilia there;  
For I on trial thus can of her,  
That honour and she are twins.  
And so alike 'twere no mistake to say,  
Emilia is Honour, and Honour Emilia.     

EPILOGUE.  

WE can't but think what censuring there will be  
Know, of this our Tragicomedy.  
Whilst some will praise this in it, and some that  
Others again dispraise they know not what.  
Mean time for us (though t'rarely does befall)  
It is our hopes, that it please you all,  
If it be possible (for now 'tis come  
To that) 'tis held impossible to be done.  
Your humours are so different, and you  
So different in your opinions too.  
As for our Author, all he bade us say,  
Was only this, for Epilogue to our play,  
That if it do not please you now, he's sorry;  
And if it do, he's glad he has it for ye.   
FINIS.