THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY King of France, and his Brother THEODORET. As it was divers times acted at the Blackfriars by the King's Majesty's Servants. Written by JOHN FLETCHER Gent.   printer's device of Humphrey Mosley, featuring a fleur-de-lis seeding (c.f. McKerrow 263-272) 
IN DOMINO CONFIDO  
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Mosely, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Prince's Arms in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1648.   

THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRIE AND THEODORET.  

Act. 1.  

Scoe. 1.  Enter Theodoret, Brunhalt, Bawdber. BRUNHALT. 
Tax me with these hot tainters?  Theodoret. 
You are too sudden;  
I do but gently tell you what becomes you,  
And what may bend your honour! how these courses  
Of lose and lazy pleasures; not suspected  
But done and known, your mind that grants no limit  
And all your Actions follows, which lose people  
That see but through a mist of circumstance  
Dare term ambitious; all your ways hid sores  
Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers.  
Your instruments like these may call the world  
And with a fearful clamour, to examine  
Why, and to what we govern. From example  
If not for virtue's sake ye may be honest:  
There have been great ones, good ones, and 'tis necessary  
Because you are yourself, and by yourself  
A self-piece from the touch of power and justice,  
You should command yourself, you may imagine  
Which cousin's all the world, but chief women.  
The name of greatness glorifies your actions  
And strong power like a penthouse, promise  
To shade you from opinion; take heed mother,  
And let us all take heed these most abuse us  
The sins we do, people behold through optics,  
Which shows them ten times more than common vices,  
And often multiplies them: then what justice  
Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders  
When we are thiefs ourselves?  Brun. 
This is, Martell,  
Studied and penned unto you, whose base person  
I charge you by the love you own a mother  
And as you hope for blessings from her prayers,  
Neither to give belief to, nor allowance,  
Next I tell you Sir, you from whom obedience  
Is so fare fled, that you dare tax a mother;  
Nay further, brand her honour with your slanders,  
And break into the treasures of her credit,  
Your easiness is abused, your faith fraited  
With lies, malicious lies, your merchant mischief,  
He that never knew more trade than Tales, and tumbling  
Suspicious into honest hearts; what you or he,  
Or all the world dare lay upon my worth,  
This for your poor opinions: I am she,  
And so will bear myself, whose truth and whiteness  
Shall ever stand as far from these detections  
As you from duty; get you better servants  
People of honest actions without ends,  
And whip these knaves away, they eat your favours,  
And turn 'em unto poisons: my known credit  
Whom all the Courts a this fide Nile have envied,  
And happy she could fire me, brought in question  
Now in my hours of age and reverence,  
When rather superstition should be rendered  
And by a Rush that one day's warmth  
Hath shot up to this swelling; give me justice,  
Which is his life.  Theod. 
This is an impudence,  
And he must tell you, that till now mother  
Brought ye a son's obedience, and now breaks it  
Above the sufferance of a son.  Bawd. 
Bless us?  
For I do now begin to feel myself  
Turning into a halter, and the ladder  
Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too.  Theod. 
These truths are no man's tales, but all men's troubles,  
They are, though your strange greatness would out stare 'em:  
Witness the daily Libels, almost Ballads  
In every place, almost in every Province,  
Are made upon your lust, Tavern discourses,  
Crowds crammed with whispers; Nay, the holy Temples,  
Are not without your curses: Now you would blush,  
But your black tainted blood dare not appear  
For fear I should fright that too.  Brun. 
O ye gods!  Theod. 
Do not abuse their names: they see your actions,  
And your concealed sins, though you work like Moles,  
Lies level to their justice.  Brun. 
Art thou a son?  Theod. 
The more my shame is of so bad a mother,  
And more your wretchedness you let me be so;  
But woman, for a mother's name hath left me  
Since you have left your honour; mend these ruins,  
And build again that broken fame, and fairly;  
Your most intemperate fires have burnt, and quickly  
Within these ten days take a Monastery,  
A most strict house, a house where none may whisper,  
Where no more light is known but what may make ye  
Believe there is a day where no hope dwells,  
Nor comfort but in tears.  Brun. 
O misery!  Theod. 
And there to cold repentance, and starved penance  
Tie your succeeding days; or curse me heaven  
If all your guilded knaves, brokers, and bedders.  
Even he you built from nothing, strong Protaldy,  
Be not made ambling Geldings; all your maids,  
If that name do not shame 'em, fed with sponges  
To suck away their rankness; and yourself  
Only to empty Pictures and dead Arras  
Offer your old desires.  Brun. 
I will not curse you,  
Nor lay a prophecy upon your pride,  
Though heaven might grant me both: unthankful, no,  
I nourished ye, 'twas I, poor I groaned for you,  
'Twas I felt what you suffered, I lamented  
When sickness or sad hours held bacl your sweetness;  
'twas I paid for your sleeps, I watch your wake:  
My daily cares and fears, that rid, played, walked,  
Discoursed, discovered, fed and fashioned you  
To what you are, and am I thus rewarded,  Theod. 
But that I know these tears I could dote on 'em,  
And kneel to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em  
Into an Armlet, ever to be honoured;  
But woman they are dangerous drops, deceitful,  
Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature.  Brun. 
In my last hours despised.  Theod. 
That Text should tell,  
How ugly it becomes you to err thus;  
Your flames are spent, nothing but smoke maintains ye;  
And those your favour and your bounty suffers  
Lie not with you, they do but lay lust on you,  
And then embrace you as they caught a palsy;  
Your power they may love, and like spanish jennetts  
Commit with such a gust.  Bawd. 
I would take whipping,  
And pay a fine now. Exit Bawdber  Theod. 
But were ye once disgraced,  
Or fallen in wealth, like leaves they would fly from you,  
And become browse for every beast; you willed me  
To stock myself with better friends, and servants  
With what face dare you see me, or any mankind,  
That keep a race of such unheard of relics,  
Bawds, Lechers; Letches, female fornications,  
And children in their rudiments to vices,  
Old men to show examples: and lest Art  
Should lose herself in act, to call bacl custom,  
Leave these, and live like Niobe. I told you how  
And when your eyes have dropped away remembrance  
Of what you were. I am your son! perform it.  Brun. 
Am I a woman, and no more power in me,  
To tie this Tiger up, a soul to no end,  
Have I got shame and lost my will; Brunhalt  
From this accursed hour, forget thou borest him,  
Or any part of thy blood gave him living,  
Let him be to thee an Antipathy,  
A thing thy nature sweats at, and turns backward:  
Throw all the mischiefs on him that thyself,  
Or women worse than thou art, have invented,  
And kill him drunk, or doubtful.  Enter Bawdber, Protaldy, Lecure Bawd. 
Such a sweat,  
I never was in yet, clipped of my minstrels;  
My toys to prick up wenches withal; uphold me,  
It runs like snowballs through me.  Brun. 
Now my varlets,  
My slaves, my running thoughts, my executions.  Baw. 
Lord how she looks!  Brun. 
Hell take ye all.  Baw. 
We shall be gelt.  Brun. 
Your Mistress,  
Your old and honoured Mistress, you tired curtals  
Suffers for your base sins; I must be cloistered,  
Mewed up to make me virtuous who can help this,  
Now you stand still like Statues; Come Protaldy,  
One kiss before I perish, kiss me strongly  
Another, and a third.  Lecure 
I fear not gelding  
As long as she holds this way.  Brun. 
The young courser,  
That unlicked lump of mine, will win thy Mistress;  
Must I be chaste Protaldy?  Fro. 
Thus and thus Lady:  Brun. 
It shall be so, let him seek fools for Vestals,  
Here is my Cloister.  Lecure 
But what safety Madam  
Find you in staying here?  Brun. 
Thou hast hit my meaning,  
I will to Thierry son of my blessings,  
And there complnine me, tell my tale so subtly,  
That the cold stones shall sweat; and Statues mourn,  
And thou shalt weep Protaldy in my witness,  
And there forswear.  Bawd. 
Yes, any thing but gelding,  
I am not yet in quiet Noble Lady,  
Let it be done to night, for without doubt  
To morrow we are capons.  Brun. 
Sleep shall not seize me,  
Nor any food befriend me but thy kisses.  
 I forsake this desert, I live honest;  
He may as well bid dead men walk, I humbled,  
Or bend below my power? let night-dogs tear me,  
And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly,  
Ere I forsake my sphere.  Lecure 
This place you will.  Brun. 
What's that to you, or any,  
Ye doss, you powdered pigsbones, rhubarb glister:  
Must you know my designs, a college on you,  
The proverb makes but fools.  Prota. 
But Noble Lady.  Brun. 
You a saucy ass too, off I will not,  
If you but anger me, tell a sow-gelder  
Have cut you all like colts, hold me and kiss me,  
For I am too much troubled; make up my treasure,  
And get me horses private, come about it.  Exeunt.  

Act. 1. Scoe. 2.  Enter Theodoret, Martell. etc. Theod. 
Though I assure myself (Martell) your counsel  
Had no end but allegiance and my honour:  
Yet I am jealous, I have passed the bounds  
Of a son's duty; for suppose her worse  
Than you report, not by bare circumstance,  
But evident proof confirmed has given her out:  
Yet since all weaknesses in a kingdom, are  
No more to be severely punished than  
The faults of Kings are by the Thunderer  
As oft as they offend, to be revenged:  
If not for piety, yet for policy,  
Since some are of necessity to be spared,  
I might, and now I wish I had not looked  
With such strict eyes into her follies.  Mart. 
Sir, a duty well discharged is never followed  
By sad repentance, nor did your Highness ever  
Make payment of the debt you owed her, better  
Than in your late reproofs not of her, but  
Those crimes that made her worthy of reproof.  
The most remarkable point in which Kings differ  
From private men, is that they not alone  
Stand bound to be in themselves innocent,  
But that all such as are allied to them  
In nearness, or dependence, by their care  
Should be free from suspicion of all crime;  
And you have reaped a double benefit  
From this last great act: first in the restraint  
Of her lost pleasures, you remove th'example  
From others of the like licentiousness,  
Then when 'tis known that your severity  
Extended to your mother, who dares hope for  
The least indulgence or connivance in  
The easiest slips that may prove dangerous  
To you or to the Kingdom?  Theod. 
I must grant  
Your reasons good (Martell) if as she is  
My mother, she had been my subject, or  
That only here she could make challenge to  
A place of being; but I know her temper  
And fear (if such a word become a King,)  
That in discovering her, I have let lose  
A Tigers, whose rage being shut up in darkness,  
Was grievous only to herself; which brought  
Into the view of light, her cruelty,  
Provoked by her own shame, will turn on him  
That foolishly presumed to let her see  
The loathed shape of her own deformity.  Mart. 
Beasts of that nature, when rebellilious threats  
Begin to appear only in their eyes,  
Or any motion that may give suspicion  
Of the least violence should be chained up;  
Their fangs and teeth, and all their means of hurt,  
Pared off, and knocked out, and so made unable  
To do ill; they would soon begin to loathe it.  
I'll apply nothing, but had your Grace done,  
Or would do yet, what your less forward zeal  
In words did only threaten, far less danger  
Would grow from acting it on her, then may  
Perhaps have being from her apprehension  
Of what may once be practised: for believe it,  
Who confident of his own power, presumes  
To spend threats on an enemy, that hath means  
To shun the worst they can effect, gives armour  
To keep off his own strength; nay more, disarms  
Himself, and lies unguarded 'gainst all harms,  
Or doubt, or malice may produce.  Theod. 
'Tis true.  
And such a desperate cure I would have used,  
If the intemperate patient had not been  
So near me as a mother; but to her,  
And from me gentle unguents only were  
To be applied: and as physicians  
When they are sick of fevers, eat themselves  
Such viands as by their directions are  
Forbid to others though alike diseased;  
So she considering what she is, may challenge  
Those cordials to restore her, by her birth,  
And privilege, which at no suit must be  
Granted to others.  Mart. 
May your pious care  
Effect but what it aimed at, I am silent.  Enter Devitty. Theod. 
What laughed you at Sir?  Vitry. 
I have some occasion,  
I should not else; and the same cause perhaps  
That makes me do so, may beget in you  
A contrary effect.  Theod. 
Why, what's the matter?  Vitry. 
I see and joy to see that sometimes poor men,  
(And most of them are good) stand more indebted  
For means to breathe to such as are held vicious,  
Than those that wear like Hypocrites on their foreheads,  
Th'ambitious titles of just men and virtuous.  Mart. 
Speak to the purpose.  Vitry. 
Who would e'rehave thought  
The good old Queen, your Highness' reverend mother,  
Into whose house (which was an Academic,)  
In which all principles of lust were practised:  
No soldier might presume to set his foot;  
At whose most blessed intercession  
All offices in the state, were charitably  
Conferred on Panders, o'erworn chamber wrestlers,  
And such physicians as knew how to kill  
With safety under the pretence of saving,  
And such like children of a monstrous peace,  
That she I y should at the length provide  
That men of war, and honest younger brothers,  
That would not owe their feeding to their codpiece,  
Should be esteemed of more than mothers or drones,  
Or idle vagabonds.  Theod. 
I am glad to hear it,  
Prithee what course takes she to do this?  Vitry. 
One that cannot fail, she and virtuous train,  
With her jewels, and all that was worthy the carrying,  
The last night left the court, and as 'tis more  
Than said, for 'tis confirmed by such as met her.  
She's fled unto your brother.  Theod. 
How?  Vitry. 
Nay storm not,  
For if that wicked tongue of hers hath not  
Forgot its pace, and Thierry be a Prince  
Of such a fiery temper, as report  
Has given him out for; you shall have cause to use  
Such poor men as myself; and thank us too  
For coming to you, and without petitions;  
Pray heaven reward the good old woman for't.  Mirt. 
I foresaw this.  Theod. 
I hear a tempest coming,  
That sings mine & my kingdom's ruin, haste,  
And cause a troop of horse to fetch her back:  
Yet stay, why should I use means to bring in  
A plague that of herself hath left me? Muster  
Our Soldiers up, we'll stand upon our guard,  
For we shall be attempted; yet forbear  
The inequality of our powers will yield me  
Nothing but loss in their defeature: something  
Must be done, and done suddenly, save your labour,  
In this I'll use no counsel but mine own,  
That course though dangerous is best. Command  
Our daughter be in readiness, to attend us:  
Martell, your company, and honost Vitry,  
Thou wilt along with me.  Virty. 
Yes any where,  
To be worse than I am here, is past my fear.  Exeunt   

Act. 2.  

Scoe. 1.  Enter Thierry, Brunhalt, Bawdber, Lecure, etc. Thier. 
You are here in a sanctuary; and that viper  
(Who since he hath forgot to be a son,  
I much disdain to think of as a brother)  
Had better in despite of all the gods,  
To have razed their Temples, and spurned down their altars,  
Then in his impious abuse of you,  
To have called on my just anger.  Brun. 
Princely son;  
And in this worthy of a near name,  
I have in the relation of my wrongs  
Been modest, and no word my tongue delivered  
I express my insupportable injuries,  
But gave my heart a wound: nor has my grief  
Being from what I suffer; but that he  
Degenerate as he is, should be the actor  
Of my extremes; and force me to divide  
The fires of brotherly affection,  
Which should make but one flame.  Thier. 
That part of his  
As it deserves shall burn no more, if or  
The tears of Orphans, widows, or all such  
As dare acknowledge him to be their Lord,  
joined to your wrongs, with his heart blood have power  
To put it out: and you, and these your servants,  
Who in our favours shall find cause to know  
In that they left not you, how dear we hold them;  
Shall give Theodoret to understand,  
His ignorance of the priceless jewel, which  
He did possess in you, mother in you,  
Of which I am more proud to be the donor,  
Then if the absolute rule of all the world  
Were offered to this hand; once more you are welcome,  
Which with all ceremony due to greatness  
I would make known, but that our just revenge  
Admits not of delay; your hand Lord General.  Enter Protaldy, with soldiers. Brun. 
Your favour and his merit I may say  
Have made him such but I am jelious how  
Your subjects will receive it.  Thier. 
How my subjects?  
What do you make of me? Oh heaven! my subjects!  
How base should I esteem the name of Prince  
If that poor dust, were any thing before  
The whirlwind of my absolute command?  
Let them be happy and rest so contented?  
They pay the tribute of their hearts & knees,  
To such a Prince that not alone has power,  
To keep his own but to increase it; that  
Although he hath a body may add too  
The famed night labour of strong Hercules:  
Yet is the master of a continence  
That so can temper it, that I forbear  
Their daughters, and their wives, whose hands though strong,  
As yet have never drawn by unjust mean  
Their proper wealth into my treasury,  
But I grow glorious, and let them beware  
That in their least repining at my pleasures,  
They change not a mild Prince, (for if provoked  
I dare and will be so) into a Tyrant.  Brun. 
You see there's hope that we shall rule again,  
And your fallen fortunes rise.  Bawdb. 
I hope your Highness  
Is pleased that I should still hold my place with you  
For I have been so long used to provide you  
Fresh bits of flesh since mine grew stolen, that surely  
If cashiered now, I shall prove a bad Cator  
In the Fishmarket of cold chastity,  Lecure 
For me I am your own, nor since I first  
Knew what it was to serve you, have remembered  
I had a soul, but such a one whose essence  
Depended wholly on your Highness' pleasure,  
And therefore Madam—  Brun. 
Rest assured you are,  
Such instruments we must not lose.  Lecure-Bawdb. 
Our service.  Thier. 
You have viewed them then, what's your opinion of them?  
In this dull time of peace, we have prepared them  
Apt for the war. Ha'?  Prota 
Sir, they have limbs  
That promise strength sufficient, and rich armours  
The Soldiers best loved wealth: more it appears  
They have been drilled, nay very prettily drilled  
For many of them can discharge their muskets  
Without the danger of throwing off their heads,  
Or being offensive to the standers by,  
By sweeting too much backwards; nay I find  
They know the right, and left hand file, and may  
With some impulsion no doubt be brought  
To pass the A, B, C, of war, and come  
Unto the Hornbook.  Thier. 
Well, that care is yours;  
And see that you effect it.  Prota. 
I am slow  
To promise much; but if within ten days,  
By precepts and examples, not drawn from  
Worm eaten precedents of the Roman wars  
But from mine own, I make them not transcend  
All that e'er yet bore arms, let it be said,  
Protaldy brags, which would be unto me  
As hateful as to be esteemed a coward:  
For Sir, few Captains know the way to win him,  
And make the soldiers valiant. You shall seem  
Lie with them in their trenches, talk, and drink,  
And be together drunk; and what seems stranger,  
We'll sometimes wench together, which once practised  
And with some other care and hidden acts,  
They being all made mine, I'll breathe into them  
Such fearless resolution and such fervour,  
That though I brought them to besiege a fort,  
Whose walls were steeple high, and cannon proof,  
Not to be undermined, they should fly up,  
Like swallows, and the parapet once won;  
For proof of their obedience, if I willed them  
They should leap down again and what is more,  
By some directions they should have from me,  
Not break their necks.  Thi. 
This is above belief.  Brun. 
Sir, on my knowledge though he hath spoke much,  
He's able to do more.  Lecure 
She means on her.  Brun. 
And howsoever in his thankfulness,  
For some few favours done him by myself,  
He left Austrachia, not Theodoret,  
Though he was chiefly aimed at, could have laid  
Withal his Dukedom's power, that shame upon him,  
Which in his barbarous malice to my honour,  
He swore with threats to effect.  Thier. 
I cannot but  
Believe you Madam, thou art one degree  
Grown nearer to my hart, and I am proud  
To have in thee so glorious a plant  
Transported hither; in thy conduct, we  
Go on assured of conquest our remove  
Shall be with the next sun.  Enter Theodoret, Memberge, Martell, Devitry. Lecure 
Amazement leave me, 'tis he.  Bawdb. 
We are again undone.  Prot. 
Our guilt hath no assurance nor defence.  Bawdb. 
If now your ever ready wit fail to protect us,  
We shall be all discoverde  Brun. 
Be not so  
In your amazement and your foolish fears,  
I am prepared for't.  Theod. 
How? Not one poor welcome,  
In answer of so long a journey made  
Only to see your brother.  Thier. 
I have stood  
Silent thus long, and am yet unresolued  
Whether to entertain thee on my sword,  
As fits a parricide of a mother's honour;  
Or whether being a Prince, I yet stand bound  
(Though thou art here condemned) to give thee hearing  
Before I axecute. What foolish hope,  
(Nay pray you forbear) or desperate madness rather,  
(Unless thou comest assure, I stand in debt  
As far to all impiety as thyself)  
Has made thee bring thy neck unto the axe?  
Since looking only here, it cannot but  
Draw fresh blood from thy seared up conscience,  
To make thee sensible of that horror, which  
They ever bear about them, that like Nero,  
Like said I? thou are worse: since thou darest strive  
In her defame to murder thine alive.  Theod. 
That she that long since had the boldness to  
Be a bad woman, (though I wish some other  
Should so report her) could not want the cunning,  
(Since they go hand in hand) to lay fair colours  
On her black crimes, I was resolved before,  
Nor make I doubt but that she hath empoisoned  
Your good opinion of me, and so far  
Incensed your rage against me, that too late  
I come to plead my innocence.  Brun. 
To excuse thy impious scandals rather.  Prot. 
Rather forced with fear to be compelled to come.  Thierry 
Forbear.  Theod. 
This moves not me, and yet had I not been  
Transported on my own integrity,  
I neither am so odious to my subjects,  
Nor yet so barren of defence, but that  
By force I could have justified my guilt,  
Had I been faulty, but since innocence  
Is to itself an hundred thousand guards,  
And that there is no son, but though he own  
That name to an ill mother, but stands bound  
Rather to take away with his own danger  
From the number of her faults, then for his own  
Security, to add unto them This,  
This hath made me to prevent th'expense  
Of blood on both sides, the injuries, the rapes,  
(Pages, that ever wait upon the war:)  
The account of all which, since you are the cause,  
Believe it, would have been required from you;  
Rather I say to offer up my daughter,  
Who living only could revenge my death,  
With my hart blood a sacrifice to your anger  
Then that you should draw on your head more curses  
Then yet you have deserved.  Thier. 
I do begin  
To feel an alteration in my nature,  
And in his full sailed confidence, a shower  
Of gentle rain, that falling on the fire  
Of my hot rage hath quenched it, ha'! I would  
Once more speak roughly to him, and I will  
Yet there is some thing whispers to me, that  
I have said too much. How is my heart divided  
Between the duty of a son, and love  
Due to a brother! yet I am swayed here,  
And must ask of you, how 'tis possible  
You can effect me that have learned to hate,  
Where you should pay all love?  Theod. 
Which joined with duty,  
Upon my knees I should be proud to tender,  
Had she not used herself so many swords  
To cut those bonds that title me to it.  Thier. 
Fie no more of that.  Theod. 
Alas it is a theme,  
I take no pleasure to discourse of; would  
It could assoon be buried to the world,  
As it should die to me: nay more, I wish  
(Next to my part of heaven) that she would spend  
The last part of her life so here, that all  
Indifferent Judges might condemn me, for  
A most malicious slanderer, nay texde it  
Upon my forehead, if you hate me mother,  
Put me to such a shame, pray you do, believe it  
There is no glory that may fall upon me,  
Can equal the delight I should receive  
In that disgrace; provided the repeal  
Of your long banished virtues, and good name,  
Ushered me to it.  Thier. 
See, she shows herself  
An easy mother, which her tears confirm.  Theod. 
'tis a good sign, the comfortablest rain  
I ever saw.  Thier. 
Embrace: why this is well,  
May never more but love in you, and duty  
On your part rise between you.  Baudb. 
Do you hear Lord General,  
Does not your new stamped honour on the sudden  
Begin to grow sick?  Prota. 
Yes I find it fit,  
That putting off my armour I should think of  
Some honest hospital to retire to.  Bawdb. 
Sure although I am a bawd, yet being a Lord.  
They cannot whip me for't, what's your opinion?  Lecure 
The beadle will resolve you, for I cannot,  
There is something that more near concerns myself,  
That calls upon me.  Mart. 
Note but yonder scarabs,  
That lived upon the dung of her base pleasures,  
How from the fear that she may yet prove honest  
Hang down their wicked heads.  Vitry. 
What is that to me?  
Though they and all the polecats of the Court,  
Were trust together, I perceive not how  
It can advantage me a cardecu,  
To help to keep me honost. A horn.  Enter a Post. Thier. 
How, from whence?  Post. 
These letters will resolve your grace.  Thier. 
What speak they? Reads:  
How all things meet to make me this day hppy?  
See mother, brother, to your reconcilement  
Another blessing almost equal to it,  
Is coming towards me; my contracted wife  
Ordella daughter of wife Dataricke  
The King of Arragon is on our confines;  
Then to arrive at such a time, when you  
Are happily here to honour with your presence  
Our long deferred, but much wished nuptial,  
Falls out above expression; heaven be pleaed  
That I may use these blessings powered on me  
With moderation.  Brun. 
Hell and furies aid me,  
That I may have power to avert the plagues  
That press upon me.  Thier. 
Two day's journey sayest thou,  
We will set forth to meet her, in the mean time  
See all things be prepared to entertain her  
Nay let me have your companies, there's a Forest  
In the mid way shall yield us hunting sport,  
To ease our travale, I'll not have a brow  
But shall wear mirth upon it, therefore clear them.  
We'll wash away, all sorrow in glad feasts  
And the war we mean to men, we'll make on beasts.  Exeunt omnes, praeter Brun. Bawdber, Portaldy, Lecure Brun. 
Oh that I had the Magic to transform you  
Into the shape of such, that your own hounds  
Might tear you piece meal; are you so stupid?  
No word of comfort? have I fed you mothers  
From my excess of moisture, with such cost  
And can you yield no other retribution,  
But to devour your maker, pandar sponge,  
Empoisoner, all grown barren?  Prota. 
You yourself  
That are our mover, and for whom alone  
We live, have failed yourself ingiving way  
To the reconcilement of your sons.  Lecure 
Which if  
You had prevented, or would teach us how  
They might again be severed, we could easily  
Remove all other hindrances that stop  
The passage of your pleasures.  Bawdb. 
And for me,  
If I fail in my office to provide you  
Fresh delicates hang me.  Brun. 
Oh you are dull, and find not  
The cause of my vexation; their reconcilement  
Is a mock castle built upon the sand  
By children, which when I am pleased to o'erthrow,  
I can with ease spurn down.  Lecure 
If so, from whence  
Grows your affliction?  Brun. 
My grief comes along  
With the new Queen, in whose grace all my power  
Must suffer shipwreck: for me now,  
That hitherto have kept the first, to know  
A second place, or yield the least precedence  
To any others death; to have my sleeps  
Less enquired after, or my rising up  
Saluted with less reverence, or my gates  
Empty of suitors, or the King's great favours  
To pass through any hand but mine, or he  
Himself to be directed by another,  
Would be to me: do you understand me, yet  
No means to prevent this.  Prota. 
Fame gives her out  
To be a woman of chastity  
Not to be wrought upon; and therefore Madam  
For me, though I have pleased you, to attempt her  
Were to no purpose.  Brun. 
Tush, some other way.  Bawdb. 
Faith I know none else, all my bringing up  
Aimed at no other learning.  Lecure 
Give me leave,  
If my art fail me not, I have thought on  
A speeding project.  Brun. 
What is't? but effect it,  
And thou shalt be my Aesculapius,  
Thy image shall be set up in pure gold,  
To which I'll fall down and worship it.  Lecure 
The Lady is fair.  Brun. 
Exceeding fair.  Lecure 
And young.  Brun. 
Some fifteen at the most.  Lecure 
And loves the King with equal ardour.  Brun. 
More, she dotes on him.  Lecure 
Well then, what think you if I make a drink  
Which given unto him on the bridal night  
Shall for five days so rob his faculties,  
Of all ability to pay that duty,  
Which new made wives expect, that she shall swear  
She is not matched to a man.  Prota. 
'Twere rare.  Lecure 
And then,  
If she have any part of woman in her,  
She'll or fly our, or at least give occasion  
Of such a breach which ne'er can be made up,  
Since he that to all else did never fail  
Of as much as could be performed by man  
Proves only ice to her.  Brun. 
'tis excellent.  Bawdb. 
The Physician  
Helps ever at a dead lift; a fine calling,  
That can both raise, and take down, out upon thee.  Brun. 
For this one service I am ever thine,  
Prepare it; I'll give it him myself, for you Protaldy,  
By this kiss, and our promised sport at night,  
(Do conjure you to bear up, not minding  
The opposition of Theodoret,  
Or any of his followers; what so ere  
You are, yet appear valiant, and make good  
The opinion that is had of you: for myself  
In the new Queen's remove, being made secure,  
Fear not, I'll make the future building sure,  Exeunt. Wind horns. Enter Theodoret, Thierry. Theod. 
This Stag stood well, and cunningly.  Thierry 
My horse;  
I am sure, has found it, for her sides are  
Blooded from flank to shoulder, where's the troop?  Enter Martell. Theodoret. 
Past homeward, weary and tired as we are,  
Now Martell, have you remembered what we thought of?  Mart. 
Yes Sir, I have sniggled him, and if there be  
Any desert in his blood, beside the itch,  
Or manly heat, but what decoctions  
Leeches, and callises have crammed into him,  
Your Lordship shall know perfect.  Thier. 
What's that, may not I know too?  Theod. 
Yes Sir,  
To that end we cast the project.  Thierry. 
What is't?  Mart. 
A desire Sir,  
Upon the gilded flag your Grace's favour  
Has stuck up for a General, and to inform you,  
For this hour he shall pass the test, what valour,  
Stayed judgement, soul, or safe discretion  
Your mother's wand'ring eyes, and your obedience  
Have fling upon us, to assure your knowledge,  
He can be, dare be, shall be, must be nothing,  
Load him with piles of honours; set him off  
With all the cunning foils that may deceive us:  
But a poor, cold, unspirited, unmannered,  
Unhonest, unaffected, undone, fool,  
And most unheard of coward, a mere lump  
Made to load beds withal, and like a nightmare,  
Ride Ladies that forger to say their prayers,  
One that dares only be diseased, and in debt,  
Whose body mews more plasters every month,  
Than women do old faces.  Thier. 
No more, I know him,  
I now repent my error, take yourtime  
And try him home, ever thus far reserved,  
You tie your anger up.  Mart. 
I lost it else Sir.  Thier. 
Bring me his sword fair taken without violence.  
For that will best declare him.  Theod. 
That's the thing.  Thier. 
And my best horse is thine.  Mart. 
Your Grace's servant. Exit.  Theod. 
You'll hunt no more Sir.  Thier. 
Not to day, the weather  
Is grown too warm, besides the dogs are spent,  
we'll take a cooler morning, let's to horse,  
And hollow in the troop.  Exeunt. Wind horns. Enter 2 Huntsmen. 1. 
I marry Twainer,  
This woman gives indeed, these are the Angels  
That are the keeper's saints.  2. 
I like a woman  
That handles the deer's dowsets with discretion;  
And pays us by proportion.  1. 
'tis no treason  
To think this good old Lady has a stump yet  
That may require a coral.  2. 
And the bells too.  Enter Protaldy. 
She has lost a friend of me else, but here's the clerk,  
No more for fear ath bell-ropes.  Prota. 
How now Keepers,  
Saw you the King?  1. 
Yes Sir, he's newly mounted,  
And as we take't ridden home.  Pro. 
Farewell then.  Exit. Keeper's Enter Martell. 
My honoured Lord, Fortune has made me happy  
To meet with such a man of men to fide me.  Protald. 
How sir, I know ye not  
Nor what your fortune means.  Mart. 
Few words shall serve, I am betrayed Sir:  
Innocent and honest; malice and violence.  
Are both against me, basely and foully laid for;  
For my life Sir, danger is now about me,  
Now in my throat Sir.  Protald. 
Where sir?  Mart. 
Nay I fear not,  
And let it now pour down in storms upon me,  
I have met with a noble guard,  Prot. 
Your meaning Sir,  
For I have present business.  Mart. 
O my Lord,  
Your honour cannot leave a gentleman  
At least a fair design of this brave nature,  
To which your worth is wedded, your profession  
Hatched in, and made one piece in such a peril,  
There are but six my Lord.  Prot. 
What fix?  Mart. 
Six villains sworn, and in pay to kill me.  Protaldy. 
Six?  Mart. 
Alas Sir, what can six do, or six score now you are present,  
Your name will blow 'em off, say they have shot too,  
Who dare present a piece? your valour's proof Sir.  Prot. 
No, I'll assure you Sir, nor my discretion  
Against a multitude; 'Tis true, I dare fight  
Enough, and well enough, and long enough:  
But wisdom Sir, and weight of what is on me,  
In which I am no more mine own, nor yours Sir,  
Nor as I take it any single danger,  
But what concerns my place, tells me directly,  
Beside my person, my fair reputation,  
If I thrust into crowds, and seek occasions  
Suffers opinion, six? Why Hercules  
Avoided two men, yet not to give example:  
But only for your present dangers sake Sir,  
Were there but four Sir, I cared not if I killed them,  
They will serve to whet my sword.  Mart. 
There are but four Sir,  
I did mistake them, but four such as Europe  
Excepting your great valour.  Prot. 
Well considered,  
I will not meddle with 'em, four in honour,  
Are equal with fourscore, besides they are people  
Only directed by their fury.  Mart. 
So much nobler shall be your way of justice.  Prot. 
That I find not.  Mart. 
You will not leave me thus?  Prot. 
I would not leave you, but look you Sir,  
Men of my place and business, must not  
Be questioned thus.  Mart. 
You cannot pass Sir,  
Now they have seen me with you without danger.  
They are here Sir within hearing, take but two.  Prot. 
Let the law take 'em take a tree Sir,  
I'll take my horse, that you may keep with safety,  
If they have brought no handsaws, within this hour  
I'll send you rescue, and a toil to take 'em.  Mart. 
You shall not go so poorly, stay but one Sir.  Prot. 
I have been so hampered with these reskues,  
So hewed and tortured, that the truth is Sir,  
I have mainly vowed against 'em, yet for your sake,  
If as you say there be but one, I'll stay.  
And see fair play a both sides.  Mart. 
There is no  
More Sir, and as I doubt a base one too.  Prot. 
Fie on him, go lug him out by the ears.  Mart. 
Yes,  
This is he Sir, the basest in the kingdom.  Prot. 
Do you know me?  Mart 
Yes, for a general fool,  
A knave, a coward, and upstart stallion bawb.  
Beast, barking puppy, that dares not by't.  Prot. 
The best man best knows patience  Mart. 
Yes,  
This way Sir, now draw your sword, and right you,  
Or render it to me, for one you shall do.  Pro. 
If wearing it may do you any honour,  
I shall be glad to grace you, there it is Sir.  Mart. 
Now get you home, and telll your Lady Mistress,  
She has shot up a sweet mushroom, quit your place too,  
And say you are counseled well, thou wilt be beaten else  
By thine own lancepresadoes; when they know thee,  
That tunns of oil of roses will not cure thee;  
Go get you to your foining work at Court,  
And learn to sweat again, and eat dry mutton;  
An armour like a frost will search your bones,  
And make you roar you rogue; not a reply,  
For if you do, your ears go off.  Prot. 
Still patience. Exeunt.  Loud music, A Banquet set out. Enter Trierry, Ordella, Brunhalt, Theodoret, Lecure, Bawdber. etc. Thier. 
It is your place, and though in all things else  
You may and ever shall command me, yet  
In this I'll be obeyed.  Ordella. 
Sir, the consent,  
That made me yours, shall never teach me to  
Repent I am so, yet be you but pleased  
To give me leave to say so much; the honour  
You offer me were better given to her,  
To whom you own the power of giving.  Thierry, 
Mother,  
You hear this and rejoice in such a blessing  
That pays to you so large a share of duty,  
But he no more, for as you hold a place  
Neerer my heart than she, you must sit nearest  
To all those graces, that are in the power  
Of Majesty to bestow.  Brun. 
Which I'll provide,  
Shall be short lived, Lecure  Lecure 
I have it ready.  Brun. 
'Tis well, wait on our cup.  Lecure 
You honour me.  Thier. 
We are dull,  
No object to provoke mirth.  Theod. 
Martell,  
If you remember Sir, will grace your Feast  
With some thing that will yield matter of mirth,  
Fit for no common view.  Thier. 
Touching Protaldy.  Theod. 
You have it.  Brun. 
What of him, I fear his baseness aside  
In spite of all the titles that my favours  
Have clothed him, which will make discovery  
Of what is yet concealed.  Enter Martell. Theod. 
Look Sir, he has it,  
Nay we shall have peace when so great a soldier  
As the renown d Protaldy, will give up  
His sword rather than use it.  Brun. 
'Twas thy plot,  
Which I will turn on thine own head. aside  Thier. 
Pray you speak,  
How won you him to part from ' t?  Mart. 
Won him Sir,  
He would have yielded it upon his knees  
Before he would have hazarded the exchange  
Of a philip of the forehead: had you willed me,  
I durst have undertook he should have sent you  
His nose, provided that the loss of it  
Might have saved the rest of his face: he is Sir  
The most unutterable coward that ere nature  
Blessed with hard shoulders, which were only given him,  
To the ruin of bastinadoes.  Thierry 
Possible.  Theod. 
Observe but how she frets.  Mart. 
Why believe it:  
But that I know the shame of this disgrace,  
Will make the beast to live with such, and never  
Presume to come more among men; I'll hazard  
My life upon it, that a boy of twelve  
Should scourge him hither like a parish top,  
And make him dance before you.  Brun. 
Slave thou liest,  
Thou darest aswell speak treason in the hearing  
Of those that have the power to punish it,  
As the least syllable of this before him,  
But 'tis thy hate to me.  Martell. 
Nay, pray you Madam,  
I have no ears too hear you, though a foot  
To let you understand what he is,  Brun 
Villain.  Theod. 
You are to violent.  Enter Protaldy. 
The worst that can come  
Is blanketing; for beating, and such virtues  
I have been long acquainted with.  Mart. 
Oh strange!  Bawdb. 
Behold the man you talk of,  Brun. 
Give me leave,  
Or free thy (self think in what place you are)  
From the foul imputation that is laid  
Upon thy valour (be bold, I'll protect you)  
Or here I vow (deny it or forswear it)  
These honours which thou wearest unworthily,  
Which be but impudent enough and keep them,  
Shall be torn from thee with thy eyes.  Prot. 
I have it,  
My valour! is there any here beneath,  
The stile of king, dares question it?  Thier. 
This is rare.  Prot. 
Which of my actions, which have still been noble,  
Has rendered me suspected?  Thierry. 
Nay Martell,  
You must not fall off.  Mart. 
Oh Sir, fear it not,  
Do you know this sword?  Prot. 
Yes.  Mart. 
Pray you on what terms  
Did you part with it?  Prota. 
Part with it say you?  Mert. 
So.  Thier. 
Nay study not an answer, confess freely.  Prota. 
Oh I remembered now, at the stag's falls,  
As we to day were hunting, a poor fellow,  
And now I view you better, I may say  
Much of your pitch: this silly reach I spoke of  
With his petition falling at my feet,  
(Which much against my will he kissed,) desired  
That as a special means for his preferment,  
I would vouchsafe to let him use my sword,  
To cut off the stag's head,  Brun. 
Will you hear that?  Bawdb. 
This lie bears a similitude of truth.  Prota. 
I ever courteous, (a great weakness in me)  
Granted his humble suit.  Mart. 
Oh impudence?  Thier. 
This change is excellent,  Mart. 
A word with you,  
Deny it not, I was that man disguised,  
You know my temper, and as you respect  
A daily cudgelling for one whole year,  
Without a second pulling by the ears,  
Or tweaks by the nose, or the most precious balm  
You used of patience, patience do you mark me,  
Confess before these kings with what base fear  
Thou didst deliver it.  Prot. 
Oh! I shall burst,  
And if I have not instant liberty  
To tear this fellow limb by limb, the wrong.  
Will break my hart, although Herculean,  
And somewhat bigger, there's my gage, pray you here  
Let me redeem my credit.  Thierry. 
Ha', ha', forbear.  Mart. 
Pray you let me take it up, and if I do not  
Against all odds of armour and of weapons,  
With this make him confess it on his knees  
Cut off my head.  Prot. 
No, that is my office.  Bawdb. 
Fie, you take the hangman's place.  Ordella. 
Nay good my Lord  
Let me atone this difference, do not suffer  
Our bridal night to be the Centaur's feast,  
You are a knight and bound by oath to grant  
All just suits unto Ladies; for my sake  
Forget your supposed wrong.  Prot. 
Well, let him thank you,  
For your sake he shall live, perhaps a day,  
And may be, on submission longer,  Theod. 
Nay, Martell, you must be patiented.  Mart. 
I am yours,  
And this slave shall be once more mine.  Thier. 
Sat all;  
One health, and so to bed, for I too long  
Defer my choicest delicates.  Brun. 
Which if poison.  
Have any Power, thou shalt like Tantalus  
Behold and never taste; be careful.  Lecure 
Fear not.  Brun. 
Though it be rare in our sex, yet for once  
I will begin a health.  Thier. 
Let it come freely.  Brun. 
Lecure, the cup; here to the son we hope  
This night shall be an Embryo.  Thierry. 
You have named  
A blessing that I most desired, I pledge you,  
Give me a larger cup, that is too little  
Unto so great a god.  Brun. 
Nay, than you wrong me,  
Fellow as I began.  Thierry. 
Well as you please.  Brun. 
Is't done?  Lecure 
Unto your wish, I warrant you,  
For this night I durst trust him with my mother.  Their. 
So, 'tis gone round, lights.  Brun. 
Pray you use my service.  Ordella. 
'Tis that which I shall ever owe you Madam,  
And must have none from you, pray you pardon me.  Thier. 
Good rest to all.  Theod. 
And to you pleasant labour.  Mart. 
Your company, Madam good night  Exeunt all, but Brunhalt, Portal Lecure, Bawdber. Brun. 
Nay you have cause to blush, but I will hid it,  
And what's more I forgive you; is't not pity  
That thou that art the first to enter combat  
With any woman, and what is more, o'ercome her,  
In which she is best pleased, should be so fearful  
To meet a man.  Prot. 
Why would you have me lose  
That blood that is dedicated to your service  
In any other qaurrell.  Brun. 
No, reserve it.  
As I will study to preserve thy credit,  
You sirrah; be't your care to find out on  
That is poor though valiant, that at any rate  
Will, to redeem my servants reputation,  
Receive a public baffling.  Bawdb. 
Would your Highness  
Were pleased to inform me better of your purpose.  Brun 
Why one Sir, that would thus be boxed  
Or kicked, do you apprehend me now?  Bawdb. 
I feel you Madam,  
The man that shall receive this from my Lord,  
Shall have a thousand crowns.  Prot. 
He shall,  Bawd. 
besides  
His day of bastinadoing past o'er,  
He shall not lose your Grace, nor your good favour.  Brun. 
That shall make way to it.  Bawdb. 
It must be a man  
Of credit in the Court, that is to be  
The foil unto your valour.  Brot. 
True, it should.  Bawdb. 
And if he have place there, 'tis not the worse.  Brun. 
'Tis much the better.  Bawdb. 
If he be a Lord,  
'Twill be the greater grace  Brun. 
Thou art in the right.  Bawdb. 
Why then behold that valiant man and Lord,  
That for your sake will take a cudgelling,  
For be assured when it is spread abroad  
That you have dealt with me, they'll give you out  
For one of the nine Worthies.  Brun. 
Out you pandar,  
Why to beat thee is only exercise  
For such as do affect it, lose not time  
In vain replies, but do it: come my solace  
Let us to bed, and our desires once quenched  
we'll there determine of Theodoret's death  
For he's the Engine used to ruin us;  
Yet one work more, Lecure, art thou assure  
The potion will work,  Lecure 
My life upon it,  Brun. 
Come my Protaldy, then glut me with  
Those best delights of man, that are denied  
To her that does expect them, being a bride.    

Act. 3.  

Scoe. 1.  Enter Thierry and Ordella, as from bed. Thier. 
Sure I have drunk the blood of Elephants.  
The tears of mandrake and the marble dew,  
Mixed in my draught, have quenched my natural heat,  
And left no spark of fire but in mine eyes,  
With which I may behold my miseries:  
Ye wretched flames which play upon my sight,  
Turn inward, make me all one piece, though earth.  
My tears shall overwhelm you else too.  Ordella. 
What moves my Lord to this strange sadness?  
If any late discerned want in me,  
Give cause to your repentance, care and duty  
Shall find a painful way to recompense.  Thier. 
Are you yet frozen veins, feel you a breath,  
Whose temperate heat would make the North star reel,  
Her icy pillars thawed, and do you not melt?  
Draw nearer, yet nearer,  
That from thy barren kiss thou mayst confess  
I have not heat enough to make a blush.  Ordella. 
Speak nearer to my understanding, like a husband,  Thier. 
How should he speak the language of a husband,  
Who wants the tongue and organs of his voice?  Ordella. 
It is a phrase will part with the same ease  
From you with that you now deliver.  Thier. 
Bind not his ears up with so dull a charm  
Who hath no other sense left, open; why should thy words  
Find more restraint than thy free speaking actions,  
Thy close embraces and thy midnight sighs  
The silent orators to slow desire?  Ordella 
Strive not to win content from ignorance  
Which must be lost in knowledge: heaven can witness  
My farthest hope of good reached at your pleasure,  
Which seeing alone may in your look be read:  
Add not a doubtful comment to a text  
That in itself is direct and easy.  Thier. 
Oh thou hast drunk the juice of hemlock too,  
Or did upbraided nature make this pair  
To show she had not quite forgot liar first  
Justly praised workmanship, the first chaste couple  
Before the want of joy, taught guilty sight  
A way through shame and sorrow to delight:  
Say, may we mix as in their innocence  
When turtles kissed, to confirm happiness,  
Not to beget it.  Ordella. 
I know no bar.  Thier. 
Should I believe thee, yet thy pulse beats woman,  
And says the name of wife did promise thee  
The blessed reward of duty to thy mother,  
Who gave so often witness of her joy,  
When she did boast thy likeness to her Husband.  Ordella. 
'Tis true, that to bring forth a second to yourself,  
Was only worthy of my Virgin loss;  
And should I prise you less unpatterned Sir,  
Then being exemplified, is't not more honour  
To be possessor of unequalled virtue,  
Than what is paralleled? give me belief,  
The name of mother knows no way of good,  
More than the end in me: who weds for lust  
Is oft a widow; when I married you,  
I lost the name of maid to gain a title  
Above the wish of change, which that part can  
Only maintain, is still the same in man,  
His virtue and his calm society,  
Which no grey hairs can threaten to dissolve,  
Nor wrinkles bury.  Thier. 
Confine thyself to silence, lest thou take.  
That part of reason from me is only left  
To give persuasion to me, I am a man:  
Or say thou hast never seen the rivers haste  
With gladsome speed to meet the amomorous sea.  Ordella. 
We are but to praise the coolness of their streams.  Thier. 
Nor viewed the kids taught by their lustful sires,  
Pursue each other through the wanton lawns,  
And liked the sport.  Ordella. 
As it made way unto their envied rest  
With weary knots binding their harmless eyes.  Thier. 
Nor do you know the reason why the Dove,  
One of the pair your hands wont hourly seed,  
So often clipped and kissed her happy mate.  Ordella. 
Unless it were to welcome his wished sight,  
Whose absence only gave her mourning voice.  Thierry. 
And you could dovelike to a single object  
Bind your lose spirits to one, nay such a one  
Whom only eyes and ears must flatter good,  
Your surer sense made useless, myself, nay  
As in my all of good already known.  Ordella. 
Let proof plead for me, let me be mewed up  
Where never eye may reach me but your own;  
And when I shall repent, but in my looks, if sigh,  Thier. 
Or shed a tear that's warm.  Ordella. 
But in your sadness.  Thier. 
Or when you hear the birds call for their mates.  
Ask if it be St. Valentine, their coupling day.  Ordella. 
If any thing may make a thought suspected  
Of knowing any happiness but you,  
Divorce me by the title of most falsehood.  Thier. 
Oh who would know a wife, that might have such a friend?  
Posterity henceforth lose the name of blessing  
And leave the earth inhabited to people heaven.  Enter Theodoret, Brunhalt, Martell, Protaldy. Mart. 
All happiness to Thierry and Ordella.  Thier. 
'Tis a desire but borrowed from me, my happiness  
Shall be the period of all good men's wishes,  
Which friends, nay dying fathers shall bequeath,  
And in my one give all: is there a duty  
Belongs to any power of mine, or love  
To any virtue I have right to? here, place it hear,  
Ordella's name shall only bear command,  
Rule, title, sovereignty.  Brun. 
What passion sways my son?  Thier. 
O mother, she has doubled every good  
The travail of your blood made possible  
To my glad being.  Prot. 
He should have done  
Little to her, he is so light hearted;  Thier. 
Brother, friends, if honour unto shame  
If wealth to want in large the present sense,  
My joys are unbounded, instead of question  
Let it be envy, not bring a present  
To the high offering of our mirth, banquets, and masks;  
Keep waking our delights, mocking night's malice,  
Whose dark brow would fright pleasure from us,  
Our court be but one strange of Revels, and each ye  
The scene where our content moves.  Theod. 
There shall want  
Nothing to express our shares in your delight Sir.  Mart. 
Till now I ne'er repent the estate  
Of widower.  Thier. 
Music, why art thou so slow voiced? it stays thy presence  
My Ordella, this chamber is a sphere  
Too narrow for thy al-moving virtue.  
Make way, free way I say;  
Who must alone, her sexes want supply,  
Had need to have a room both large and high.  Mart. 
This passion's above utterance.  Theod. 
Nay credulity.  Exit all but Thierry, Brunhalt. Brun. 
Why son what mean you, are you a man?  Thier. 
No mother I am no man, were I a man?  
How could I be thus happy?  Brun. 
How can a wife be author of this joy then?  Thier. 
That being no man, I am married to no woman;  
The best of men in full ability,  
Can only hope to satisfy a wife,  
And for that hope ridiculous, I in my want  
And such defective poverty, that to her bed  
From my first cradle brought no strength but thought,  
Have met a temperance beyond hers that rocked me,  
Necessity being her bar; where this  
Is so much senseless of my deprived fire,  
She knows it not a loss by her desire.  Brun. 
It is beyond my admiration.  Thierry, 
Beyond your sex's faith,  
The unripe virgins of our age to hear't  
Will dream themselves to women, and convert  
The example to a miracle.  Brun. 
Alas 'tis your defect moves my amazement,  
But what ill can be separate from ambition?  
Cruel Theodoret.  Thierry. 
What of my brother?  Brun. 
That to his name your barrenness adds rule;  
Who loving the effect, would not be strange  
In favouring the cause; look on the profit,  
And gain will quickly point the mischief out.  Thier. 
The name of father to what I possess is shame and care.  Brun. 
Were we begot to single happiness  
I grant you; but from such a wife, such virtue  
To get an heir, what hermit would not find  
Deserving argument to break his vow  
Even in his age of chastity?  Thier. 
You teach a deaf man language.  Brun. 
The cause found out, the malady may cease,  
Have you heard of one Forts?  Thier. 
A learned Astronomer, great Magician,  
Who lives hard by retired.  Brun. 
Repair to him, with the just hour and place  
Of your nativity; fools are amazed at fate,  
Griefs but concealed are never desperate.  Thier. 
You have timely wakened me, nor shall I sleep  
Without the satisfaction of his art  Exit Thierry. Enter Lecure Brun. 
Wisdom prepares you to'r, Lecure, met happily.  Lecure 
The ground answers your purpose, the conveniance  
Being secure and easy, falling just  
Behind the state set for Theodoret.  Brun. 
'Tis well, your trust invites you to a second charge,  
You know Leforte's cell.  Lecure 
Who constellated your fair birth  Brun. 
Enough, I see thou know'st him, where's Bawdber?  Lecur. 
I left him careful of the project cast,  
To raise Protaldy's credit.  Brun. 
A sore that must be plastered, in whose wound  
Others shall find their graves, think themselves sound,  
Your ear, and quickest apprehension.  Exeunt. Enter Bawdber, and a servant. Bawdb. 
This man of war will advance.  Lecure 
His hours upon the stroke.  Bawdb. 
Wind him bacl as you favour my ears,  
I have no noise in my head, my brains have hitherto  
Been employed in silent businesses.  Enter Devitry. Lecure 
The gentleman is within your reach Sir. Exit.  Bawdb 
Give ground whilst I drill my wits to the encounter,  
Devitry, I take it.  Devitry. 
All that's left of him.  Bawdb. 
Is there another parcel of you, if it be at pawn  
I will gladly redeem it to make you wholly mine.  Vitry 
You seek too hard a pennyworth.  Bawdb. 
You to ill to keep such distance, your parts have been long known  
To me, howsoever you please to forget acquaintance  Vitry. 
I must confess I have been subject, to lewd company.  Bawdb. 
Thanks for your good remembrance,  
You have been a soldier Devitry, and borne arms.  Vitry. 
A couple of unprofitable ones, that have only served to get me a stomach to my dinner.  Bawdb. 
Much good may it do you Sir.  Vitry. 
You should have heard me say I had dined first, I have built on an unwholesome ground, raised up a house before I knew a tenant, matched to mere weariness, sought to find want and hunger.  Bawdb. 
It is time you put up your sword, and run away for meat sir, nay if I had not withdrawn ere now, I might have kept thee; fast with you: but since the way to thrive is never late, what is the nearest course to profit think you?  Vitry. 
It may be your worship will say bawdry.  Bawdb. 
True sense, bawdry.  Vitry. 
Why is there five kinds of them, I never knew but one.  Bawdb. 
I'll show you a new way of prostitution, fall bacl, further yet, further, there is fifty crowns, do but as much to Protaldy the Queen's favoret, they are doubled.  Vitry. 
But thus much.  Bawdb. 
Give him but an affront as he comes to the presence, and in his drawing make way like a true bawd to his valour, the son's thy own; if you take a scratch in the arm or so, every drop of blood weighs down a ducat.  Vitry. 
After that rate, I and my friends would beggar the kingdom. Sir you have made me blush to see my want, whose cure is such a cheap and easy purchase, this is male bawdry belike.  Enter Protaldy, a Lady, and Revelers. Bawdb. 
See, you shall not belong earning your wages, your work's before your eyes.  Vitry. 
Leave it to my handling, I'll fall upon't instantly.  Bawdb. 
What opinion will the managing of this affair  
Bring to my wisdom? my invention tickles  
With apprehension on't:  Pro. 
These are the joys of marriage Lady,  
Whose fights are able to dissolve virginity.  
Speak freely, do you not envy the bride's felicity?  Lady. 
How should I, being partner of't?  Protall. 
What you enjoy is but the banquets view,  
The taste stands from your palate; if he impart  
By day so much of his content, think what night gave?  Vitry. 
Will you have a relish of wit Lady?  Bawdb. 
This is the man.  Lady. 
If it be not dear Sir.  Vitry. 
If you affect cheapness, how can you prise this sullied ware so much? mine is fresh, my own, not retailed.  Prot 
You are saucy sirrah.  Vitry. 
The fit to be in the dish with such dry stockfish as you are, how strike?  Bawdb. 
Remember the condition as you look for payment.  Vitry. 
That box was left out of the bargain.  Prot. 
Help, help, help.  Bawdb. 
Plague of the scriveners running hand,  
What a blow is this to my reputation?  Enter Thierry, Theodoret, Brunhalt, Ordella, Memberge, Martell. Thier. 
What villain dares this outrage?  Devitry. 
Hear me Sir, this creature hired me with fifty crowns in hand, to let Protaldy have the better of me at single rapier on a made quarrel; he mistaking the weapon, lays me over the chaps with his club-fist, for which I was bold to teach him the art of memory.  Omnes. 
Ha', ha', ha', ha'.  Theod. 
Your General, mother, will display himself.  
Spite of our peace I see.  Thierry 
Forbear these civil jars, fie Protaldy,  
So open in your projects, avoid our presence sirrah.  Devi. 
Willingly, if you have any more wages to earn,  
You see I can take pains.  Theod. 
There's somewhat for thy labour,  
More than was promised, ha', ha', ha'.  Bawdb 
Where could I wish myself now? in the Isle of dogs,  
So I might scape scratching, for I see by her cat's eyes  
I shall be clawed fearfully.  Thier. 
we'll hear no more on't, soft music  
Music drown all sadness;  
Command the Revelers in, at what a rate I do purchase  
My mother's absence to give my spleen full liberty.  Brun. 
Speak not a thoughts delay, it names thy ruin,  Prot. 
I had thought my life had borne more value with you.  Brun. 
Thy loss carries mine with't, let that secure thee.  
The vault is ready, and the door conveys rooed,  
Falls just behind his chair, the blow once given,  
Thou art unseen.  Prot 
I cannot feel more than I fear, i'm sure. withdraws  Brun. 
Be gone, and let them laugh their own destruction.  Thierry: 
You will add unto her rage.  Theod. 
Foot I shall burst unless I vent myself, ha', ha', ha'.  Brun. 
Me Sir, you never could  
Have found a time to invite more wilingness  
In my dispose to pleasure.  Memb. 
Would you would please to make some other choice.  Revel. 
'Tis a disgrace would dwell upon me Lady,  
Should you refuse.  Memb. 
Your reason conquers; my Grandmothers looks  
Have turned all air to earth in me, they sit  
Upon my heart like night charms, black and heavy.  The Dance. Thier. 
You are too much libertine.  Theod. 
The fortune of the fool persuades my laughter  
More than his cowardice; was ever rat  
Ta'en by the tail thus? ha', ha', ha'.  Thier. 
Forbear I say.  Prot. 
No eye looks this way, I will wink and strike, Behind the State  
Lest I betray myself: stubs Theodoret?  Theod. 
Ha', did you not see one near me?  Thier. 
How near you, why do you look so pale brother?  
Treason, treason.  Memb. 
Oh my presage! Father.  Ordella. 
Brother,  Mart. 
Prince, noble Prince.  Thier. 
Make the gates sure, search into every angle  
And corner of the Court; oh my shame! mother,  
Your son is slain, Theodoret, noble Theodoret,  
Here in my arms, too weak a sanctuary  
'Gainst treachery and murder, say is the traitor taken?  1 Guard. 
No man hath passed the chamber on my life Sir.  Thier. 
Set present fire unto the place, that all unseen  
May perish in this mischief, who moves flow to't,  
Shall add unto the flame.  Brun. 
What mean you? give me your private hearing.  Thier. 
Persuasion is a partner in the crime,  
I will renounce my claim unto a mother,  
If you make offer on't.  Brun. 
Ere a torch can take flame, I will produce  
The author of the fact.  Thier. 
Withdraw but for your lights.  Memb. 
O my too true suspicion.  Exeunt Martell, Memberg. Thier. 
Speak, where's the engine to this horrid act?  Brun. 
Here you do behold her, upon whom make good  
Your causeless rage; the deed was done by my incitement,  
Not yet repent.  Thier. 
Whether did nature start, when you conceived  
A birth so unlike woman? say, what part  
Did not consent to make a son of him,  
Reserved itself within you to his ruin.  Brun. 
Ha', ha', a son of mine! do not dissever  
Thy father's dust, shaking his quiet urn,  
To which my breath would send so foul an issue.  
My son, thy brother?  Thier. 
Was not Theodoret my brother, or is thy tongue  
Confederate with thy heart, to speak and do  
Only things monstrous?  Brun. 
Hear me, and thou shalt make thine own belief,  
Thy still with sorrow mentioned, father lived  
Three careful years in hope of wished heirs,  
When I conceived, being from his jealous fear,  
Enjoined to quiet home, one fatal day:  
Transported with my pleasure to the chase,  
I forced command, and in pursuit of game,  
Fell from my horse, lost both my child and hopes.  
Despair which only in his love saw life  
Worthy of being, from a gardener's arms  
Snatched this unlucky brat, and called it mine,  
When the next year repaid my loss with thee:  
But in thy wrongs preserved my misery,  
Which that I might diminish, though not end,  
My fighes and wet eyes from thy father's will,  
Bequeath this largest part of his Dominions  
Of France, unto thee, and only left  
Austrachia unto that changeling, whose life affords  
Too much of ill 'gainst me to prove my words,  
And call him stranger.  Thierry 
Come, do not weep, I must, nay do believe you,  
And in my father's satisfaction count it  
Merit, not wrong, or loss:  Brun. 
You do but flatter, there's anger yet flames  
In your eyes.  Thier. 
See, I will quench it, and confess that you  
Have suffered double travail for me.  Brun. 
You will not fire the house then?  Thier. 
Rather reward the author, who gave cause  
Of knowing such a secret, my oath and duty  
Shall be assurance on't.  Brun. 
Protaldy, rise good faithful servant, heaven knows  
How hardly he was drawn to this attempt.  Enter Protaldy. Thier. 
Protaldy? he had a gardener's fate I'll swear  
Tell by thy hand, Sir, we do owe unto you for this service.  Brun. 
Why lookest thou so dejected?  Enter Martell. Prot. 
I want a little shift Lady, nothing else.  Mart. 
The fires are ready, please it your grace withdraw,  
Whilst we perform your pleasure.  Thier. 
Reserve them for the body; since he had the fate  
To live and die a Prince, he shall not lose  
The title in his funeral. Exit.  Mart. 
His fate to live a prince,  
Thou old impiety, made up by lust and mischief, Exeunt with the body of Theod.  
Take up the body.  Enter Lecure, and a servant. Lecure 
Dost think Leforte sure enough?  Serua. 
As bonds can make him, I have turned his eyes to the east; and left him gaping after the morning star, his head is a mere Astrolabe, his eyes stand for the poles, the gag in his mouth being the coachman, his five teeth have the nearest resemblance to Charles Wain.  Lecure 
Thou hast cast a figure which shall raise thee, direct my hair a little; and in my likeness to him read a fortune suiting thy largest hopes.  Serua 
You are so far 'bove likeness you are the same,  
If you love mirth, persuade him from himself.  
'Tis but an Astronomer out of the way,  
And lying will bear the better place for't  Lecure 
I have profitabler use in hand, hast to the Queen?  
And tell her how you left me changed.  Exit Servant. 
Who would not serve this virtuous active Queen?  
She that loves mischief 'bove the man that does it,  
And him above her pleasure, yet knows no heaven else.  Enter Thierry. Thier. 
How well this loans suits the art I seek,  
Discovering secret and succeeding fate,  
Knowledge that puts all lower happiness on,  
With a remiss and careless hand,  
Fair peace unto your meditations father.  Lecure 
The same to you, you bring Sir.  Thier. 
Drawn by your much famed skill, I come to know  
Whether the man who owes this character,  
Shall ere have issue.  Lecure 
A resolution falling with most ease  
Of any doubt you could have named, he is a Prince  
Whose fortune you inquire.  Thier. 
He is nobly borne.  Lecure 
He had a dukedom lately fall'n unto him  
By one called brother, who has left a daughter.  Thier. 
The question is of heirs, not lands.  Lecure 
Heirs, yes he shall have heirs.  Thier. 
Begotten of his body, why look'st thou pale?  
Thou canst not suffer in his want.  Lecure 
Nor thou, I neither can nor will  
Give farther knowledge to thee.  Thier. 
Thou must, I am the man myself,  
Thy sovereign, who must owe unto thy wisdom  
In the concealing of my barren shame.  Lecure 
Your grace doth wrong your stars; if this be yours,  
You may have children.  Thier. 
Speak it again.  Lecure 
You may have fruitful issue.  Thier. 
By whom? when? how?  Lecure 
It was the fatal means first strooke my blood  
With the cold hand of wonder, when I read it  
Printed upon you birth.  Thier. 
Can there be any way unsmooth, has end  
So fair and good?  Lecure 
We that behold the sad aspects of heaven,  
Leading sense blinded, men feel grief enough  
To know, though not to speak their miseries.  Thier. 
Sorrow must lost a name, where mine finds life;  
If not in thee, at least ease pain with speed,  
Which must know no cure else.  Lecure 
Then thus,  
The first of females which your eye shall meet  
Before the sun next rise, coming from out  
The Temple of Diana, being slain, you live  
Father of many sons.  Thier. 
Callst thou this sadness, can I beget a son  
Deserving less than to give recompense  
Unto so poor a loss? what e'er thou art,  
Rest peaceable blessed creature, borne to be  
Mother of Princes, whose grave shall be more fruitful  
Than others marriage beds: me thinks his art  
Should give her form and happy figure to me,  
I long to see my happiness, he is gone,  
As I remember he named my brother's daughter,  
Were it my mother, 'twere a gainful death  
Can give Ordella's virtue living breath.  Exeunt.   

Act. 4.  

Scoe. 1.  Enter Thierry and Martell. Mart. 
Your Grace is early stirring.  Mart. 
How can he sleep,  
Whose happiness is laid up in an hour.  
He knows comes stealing toward him, O Martell!  
Is't possible the longing bride, whose wishes  
Outruns her fears, can on that day she is married  
Consume in slumbers, or his arms rust in ease,  
That hears the charge, and sees the honoured purchase  
Ready to gild his valour? Mine is more  
A power above these passions; this day France,  
France that in want of issue withers with us;  
And like an aged river runs his head  
Into forgotten ways, again I ransom,  
And his fair course turn right: this day Thierry,  
The son of France, whose manly powers like prisoners  
Have been tied up, and fettered, by one death  
Give life to thousand ages; this day beauty  
The envy of the world, pleasure the glory,  
Content above the world, desire beyond it  
Are made mine own and useful.  Mart. 
Happy woman  
That dies to do these things.  Thier. 
But ten times happier  
That lives to do the greater; O Martell,  
The Gods have heard me now, and those that scorned me  
Mothers of many children, and blessed fathers  
That see their issues like the stars unnumbered,  
Their comfort more than them, shall in my praises  
Now teach their infant's songs; and tell their ages  
From such a son of mine, or such a Queen,  
That chaste Ordella brings me blessed marriage  
The chain that links two holy loves together  
And in thee marriage, more than blessed Ordella,  
That comes so near the sacrament itself,  
The Priests doubt whether purer.  Mart. 
Sir, you're lost.  Thier. 
I prithee let me be so.  Mart. 
The day wears,  
And those that have been offering early prayers,  
Are now retiring homeward.  Thier. 
Stand and mark then.  Mart. 
Is it the first must suffer.  Thier. 
The first woman.  Mart. 
What hand shall do it Sir?  Thier. 
This hand Martell,  
For who less dare presume to give the gods  
An incense of this offering?  Mart. 
Would I were she,  
For such away to die, and such a blessing  
Can never crown my parting.  Enter 2 men passing over. Thier. 
What are those?  Mart. 
Men, men, Sir, men.  Thier. 
The plagues of men light on 'em,  
They cross my hopes like hares, who's that?  Enter a Priest. Mart. 
A Priest Sir.  Thierry. 
Would he were gelt.  Mart. 
May not these rascals serve Sir,  
Well hanged and quartered?  Thierry. 
No.  Mart. 
Here comes a woman.  Enter Ordella, veiled. Thier. 
Stand and behold her then.  Mart. 
I think a fair one.  Thier. 
Move not whilst I prepare her: may her peace  
Like his whose innocence the gods are pleased with,  
And offering at their altars, gives his soul  
Far purer than those fires; pull heaven upon her,  
You holy powers, no humane spot dwell in her,  
No love of any thing but you and goodness,  
Tie her to earth, fear be a stranger to her,  
And all weak bloods affections, but thy hope  
Let her bequeath to women: hear me heaven,  
Give her a spirit masculine, and noble,  
Fit for yourselves to ask, and me to offer.  
O let her meet my blow, dote on her death;  
And as a wanton vine bows to the pruner,  
That by his cutting off more may increase,  
So let her fall to raise me fruit; hale woman.  
The happiest, and the best (if thy dull will  
Do not abuse thy fortune) France ere found yet.  Ordella. 
She is more than dull Sir, less and worse than woman,  
That may inherit such an infinite  
As you propound, a greatness so near goodness;  
And brings a will to rob her.  Thier. 
Tell me this then,  
Was there ere woman yet, or may be found,  
That for fair same, unspotted memory,  
For virtue's sake, and only for itself sake  
Has, or dare make a story?  Ordella. 
Many dead Sir,  
Living I think as many.  Thier. 
Say, the kingdom  
May from a woman's will receive a blessing,  
The king and kingdom, not a private safety.  
A general blessing Lady.  Ordella. 
A general curse  
Light on her heart denies it.  Thier. 
Full of honour;  
And such examples as the former ages  
Were but dim shadows of, and empty figures.  Ordella. 
You strangely stir me Sir, and were my weakness  
In any other flesh but modest women,  
You should not ask more questions may I do it?  Thier. 
You may, and which is more, you must.  Ordella. 
I joy in't,  
A 'bove a moderate gladness, Sir, you promise  
It shall be honest.  Thier. 
As ever time discovered.  Ordella. 
Let it be what it may then, what it dare,  
I have a mind will hazard it.  Thier. 
But hark ye,  
What may that woman merit, makes this blessing!  Ordella. 
Only her duty Sir  Thier. 
'Tis terrible.  Ordella. 
'Tis so much the more noble.  Thier. 
'Tis full of fearful shadows.  Ordella. 
So is sleep Sir,  
Or any thing that's merely ours and mortal,  
We were begotten gods else; but those fears  
Feeling but once the fires of nobler thoughts,  
Fly like the shapes of clouds we form to nothing  Thier. 
Suppose it death.  Ordella. 
I do.  Thier. 
And endless parting  
With all we can call ours, with all our sweetness,  
With youth, strength, pleasure, people, time, nay reason:  
For in the silent grave, no conversation,  
No joyful tread of friends, no voice of lovers,  
No careful father's council, nothing's hard,  
Nor nothing is, but all oblivion,  
Dust and an endless darkness; and dare you woman  
Desire this place?  Ordella. 
'Tis of all sleeps the sweetest,  
Children begin it to us, strong men seek it,  
And kings from height of all their painted glories  
Fall like spent exhaltations, to this centre;  
And those are fools that fear it, or imagine  
A few unhandsome pleasures, or life's profits  
Can recompense this place; and mad that stays it,  
Till age blow out their lights, or rotten humours.  
Bring them dispersed to the earth.  Thier. 
Then you can suffer.  Ordella. 
As willingly as say it.  Thier. 
Martell, a wonder,  
Here is a woman that dares die, yet tell me,  
Are you a wife?  Ordella. 
I am Sir.  Thier. 
And have children,  
She sighs and weeps.  Ordella. 
O none Sir.  Thier. 
Dare you venture  
For a poor barren praise you ne'er shall hear,  
To part with these sweet hopes.  Ordella. 
With all but Heaven;  
And yet die full of children; he that reads me  
When I am ashes, is my son in wishes,  
And those chaste dames that keep my memory,  
Singing my yearly requiems, are my daughters.  Thier. 
Then there is nothing wanting but my knowledge,  
And what I must do Lady.  Ordella. 
You are the King Sir,  
And what you do I'll suffer, and that blessing  
That you desire the God's shower on the Kingdom.  Thier. 
Thus much before I strike then, for I must kill you,  
The Gods have willed it so, they're made the blessing  
Must make France young again, and me a man,  
Keep up your strength still nobly.  Ordella. 
Fear me not.  Thier. 
And meet death like a measure.  Ordella. 
I am steadfast.  Thier. 
Thou shalt be sainted woman, and thy tomb  
Cut out in Crystal, pure and good as thou art;  
And on it shall be graven every age,  
Succeeding Peers of France that rise by thy fall,  
Tell thou liest there like old and fruitful nature.  
Darest thou behold thy happiness?  Ordella. 
I dare Sir.  Thier. 
Ha'? Pulls off her veil, letts fall his sword.  Mar. 
O Sir, you must not do it.  Thier. 
No, I dare not.  
There is an Angel keeps that paradise,  
A fiery Angel friend; O virtue, virtue,  
Ever and endless virtue.  Ordella. 
Strike Sir, strike;  
And if in my poor death fair France may merit,  
Give me a thousand blows, be killing me  
A thousand days.  Thier. 
First let the earrh be barren,  
And man no more remembered, rise Ordella,  
The nearest to thy maker, and the purest  
That ever dull flesh shown us,— O my heartstrings. Exit.  Mart. 
I see you full of wonder, therefore noblest,  
And truest amongst women, I will tell you  
The end of this strange accident.  Ordella. 
Amazement  
Has so much wove upon my heart, that truly  
I feel myself unfit to hear, O Sir,  
My Lord has slighted me.  Mart. 
O no sweet Lady.  Ordella. 
Robbed me of such a glory by his pity  
And most unprovident respect.  Mart. 
Dear Lady,  
It was not meant to you.  Ordella. 
Else where the day is,  
And hours distinguish time, time runs to ages,  
And ages end the world, I had been spoken.  Devi. 
I'll tell you what it was, if but your patience  
Will give me hearing.  Ordella. 
If I have transgressed,  
Forgive me Sir.  Mart. 
Your noble Lord was counselled,  
Grieving the barrenness between you both,  
And all the Kingdom with him, to seek out  
A man that knew the secrets of the Gods,  
He went, found such a one, and had this answer,  
That if he wooed have issue, on this morning,  
For this hour was prefixed him, he should kill  
The first he met being female, from the temple;  
And then he should have children, the mistake  
Is now too perfect Lady.  Ordella. 
Still 'tis I Sir,  
For may this work be done by common women,  
Durst any but myself that knew the blessing,  
And felt the benefit, assume this thing  
In any other, ’t’adad been lost, and nothing,  
A curse and not a blessing; I was figured;  
And shall a little fondness bar my purchase?  Mart. 
Where should he then seek children?  Ordella. 
Where they are  
In wombs ordained for issues, in those beauties  
That bless a marriage bed, and makes it proceed  
With kisses that conceive, and fruitful pleasures;  
Mine like a grave, buries those loyal hopes,  
And to a grave it covets.  Mart. 
You are too good,  
Too excellent, too honest; rob not us  
And those that shall hereafter seek example,  
Of such inestimable worthies in woman,  
Your Lord of such obedience, all of honour  
In coveting a cruelty is not yours,  
A will short of your wisdom; make not error  
A tomb stone of your virtues, whose fair life  
Deserves a constellation: your Lord dare not,  
He cannot, ought not, must not run this hazard,  
He makes a separation nature shakes at,  
The Gods deny, and everlasting justice  
Shrinks bacl, and sheaths her sword at.  Ordella, 
All's but talk Sir,  
I find to what I am reserved, and needful,  
And though my Lord's compassion makes me poor,  
And leaves me in my best use, yet a strength  
Above mine own, or his dull fondness finds me,  
The Gods have given it to me.  Draws a knife. Mart. 
Self destruction,  
Now all good Angels bless thee, O sweet Lady,  
You are abused, this is a way to shame you,  
And with you all that knows you, all that loves you,  
To ruin all you build, would you be famous,  
Is that your end?  Ordella. 
I would be what I should be.  Mart. 
Live and confirm the Gods then, live and be loaden  
With more than olive bear, or fruitful Autumn;  
This way you kill your merit, kill your cause,  
And him you would raise life to, where, or how  
Got you these bloody thoughts? what Devil durst  
Look on that Angel face, and tempt? do you know  
What 'tis to die thus, how you strike the stars,  
And all good things above? do you feel  
What follows a self blood, whether you venture,  
And to what punishment? excellent Lady,  
Be not thus cozened, do not fool yourself,  
The Priest was never his own sacrifice,  
But he that thought his hell here.  Ordella. 
I am counselled,  Mart. 
And I am glad on't, lie I know you dare not.  Ordelld. 
I never have done yet.  Mart. 
Pray take my comfort,  
Was this a soul to lose? two more such women  
Would save their sex; see, she reputes and prays,  
O hear her, hear her, if there be a faith  
Able to reach your mercies, she hath sent it.  Ordella. 
Now good Martell confirm me.  Mart. 
I will Lady,  
And every hour advise you, for I doubt  
Whether this plot be heavens, or hells; your mother  
And I will find it, if it be in mankind  
To search the centre of it: in the mean time  
I'll give you out for dead, and by yourself,  
And show the instrument, so shall I find  
A joy that will betray her.  Ordella. 
Do what's fittest;  
And I will follow you.  Mart. 
Then ever live  
Both able to engross all love, and give.  Exeunt. Enter Brunhalt, Protaldy. Brun. 
I am in labour  
To be delivered of that burdenous project  
I have so long gone with; ha', here's the midwife,  
Or life, or death.  Enter Lecure Lecure 
If in the supposition  
Of her death in whose life you die, you ask me,  
I think you are safe.  Brun. 
Is she dead?  Lecure 
I have used  
All means to make her so, I saw him waiting  
At the temple door, and used such art within,  
That only she of all her sex, was first  
Given up unto his fury.  Brun, 
Which if love  
Or fear made him forbear to execute  
The vengeance he determined, his fond pity  
Shall draw it on himself, for were there left  
Not any man but he to serve my pleasures,  
Or from me to receive commands, which are  
The joys for which I love life, he should be  
Removed, and I alone left to be Queen  
O'er any part of goodness that's left in me.  Lecure 
If you are so resolved, I have provided  
A means to ship him hence: look upon this,  
But touch it sparingly, for this once used.  
Say but to dry a tear, will keep the eye lid  
From closing, until death perform that office.  Brun. 
Give't me, I may have use of it, and on you  
I'll make the first experiment: if one sigh  
Or heavy look beget the least suspicion,  
Childish compassion can thaw the ice  
Of your so long congealed and flinty hardness.  
'Slight, go on constant, or I Shall.  Prot. 
Best Lady,  
We have no faculties which are not yours.  Lecure 
Nor will be any thing without you.  Brun. 
Be so, and we will stand or fall together, for  
Since we, have gone so fare, that death must stay  
The journey which we wish should never end,  
And innocent, or guilty we must die,  
When we do so, let's know the reason why.  Enter Thierry, and Courtiers. Lecure 
The King.  Thier. 
We'll be alone.  Prot. 
I would I had  
A convoy too, to bring me safe off,  
For rage's although it be allayed with sorrow,  
Appears so dreadful in him, that I shake  
To look upon it.  Brun. 
Coward, I will meet it,  
And know from whence t'as birth: son, kingly Thierry.  Thier. 
Is cheating grown so common among men,  
And thrives so well here, that the Gods endeavour  
To practise it above?  Brun. 
Your mother.  Thier. 
Ha! or are they only careful to revenge,  
Not to reward? or when for your offences  
We study satisfaction, must the cure  
Be worse than the disease?  Brun. 
Will you not hear me?  Thier. 
To lose the ability to perform those duties  
For which I entertained the name of husband,  
Asked more than common sorrow; but t'impose  
For the redress of that defect, a torture  
In marking her to death, for whom alone  
I felt that weakness as a want, requires  
More than the making the head bald? or falling  
Thus flat upon the earth, or cursing that way,  
Or praying this, oh such a scene of grief,  
And so set down, (the world the stage to act on)  
May challenge a Tragedian better practised  
Than I am to express it; for my cause  
Of passion is so strong, and my performance  
So weak, that though the part be good, I fear  
Th'ill acting of it, will defraud it of  
The poor reward it may deserve, men's pity.  Brun. 
I have given you way thus long, a King, and what  
Is more, my son, and yet a slave to that  
Which only triumphs over coward's sorrow  
For shame look up.  Thier. 
Is't you, look down on me;  
And if that you are capable to receive it,  
Let that return to you, that have brought forth  
One marked out only for it: what are these?  
Come they upon your privilege, to tread on  
The tomb of my afflictions?  Prot. 
No not we Sir.  Thier. 
How dare you then omit the ceremony  
Due to the funeral of all my hopes,  
Or come unto the marriage of my sorrows,  
But in such colours as may sort with them.  Prot. 
Alas; we will wear any thing.  Brun. 
This is madness,  
Take but my counsel.  Thier. 
Yours? Dare you again  
Though armed with the authority of a mother,  
Attempt the donger that will fall on you  
If such another syllable awake it?  
Go, and with yours be safe, I have such cause  
Of grief, nay more, to love it, that I will not  
Have such as these be sharers in it.  Lecure 
Madam.  Prot. 
Another time were better.  Brun. 
Do not stir,  
For I must be resolved and will, be statues.  Enter Martell. Thier. 
I, thou art welcome, and upon my soul  
Thou art an honest man; do you see, he has tears  
To lend to him whom prodigal expense  
Of sorrow has made bankrupt of such treasure,  
Nay thou dost well.  Mart. 
I would it might excuse.  
The ill I bring along.  Thier. 
Thou makest me smile  
In the height of my calamities, as if  
There could be the addition of an Atom  
To the giant body of my miseries.  
But try, for I will hear thee; all sit down, 'tis death  
To any that shall dare to interrupt him  
In look, gesture or word.  Mart. 
And such attention  
As is due to the last, and the best story  
That ever was delivered, will become you,  
The grieved Ordella, (for all other titles  
But take away from that) having from me  
Prompted by your last parting groan, enquired,  
What drew it from you, and the cause soon learned:  
For she whom barbarism could deny nothing,  
With such prevailing earnestness desired it,  
'Twas not in me though it had been my death,  
To hid it from her; she I say, in whom  
All was, that Athens, Rome, or warlike Sparta,  
Have registered for good in their best women:  
But nothing of their ill, knowing herself  
Marked out, (I know not by what power, but sure  
A cruel one) to die, to give you children;  
Having first with a settled countenance  
Looked up to heaven, and then upon herself,  
(It being the next best object) and then smiled,  
As if her joy in death to do you service,  
Would break forth in despite of the much sorrow  
She showed she had to leave you: and then taking  
Me by the hand, this hand which I must ever  
Love better than I have done, since she touched it,  
Go, said she, to my Lord, (and to go to him  
Is such a happiness I must not hope for)  
And tell him that he too much prized a trifle  
Made only worthy in his love, and her  
Thankful acceptance, for her sake to rob  
The Orphan Kingdom of such guardians, as  
Must of necessity descend from him;  
And therefore in some part of recompense  
Of his much love, and to show to the world  
That 'twas not her fault only, but her fate,  
That did deny to let her be the mother  
Of such most certain blessings: yet for proof,  
She did not envy her, that happy her,  
That is appointed to them, her quick end  
Should make way for her; which no sooner spoke,  
But in a moment this too ready engine  
Made such a battery in the choicest castle  
That ever nature made to defend life,  
That straight it shaken, and sunk.  Thier. 
Stay, dares any  
Presume to shed a tear before me? or  
Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit  
To do so for her? I have done, now on.  Mart. 
Fallen thus, once more she smiled, as if that death  
For her had studied a new way to sever  
The soul and body, without sense of pain;  
And then tell him quoth she what you have seen,  
And with what willingness 'twas done: for which  
My last request unto him is, that he  
Would instantly make choice of one (most happy  
In being so chosen) to supply my place,  
By whom if heaven bless him with a daughter,  
In my remembrance let it bear my name  
Which said she died.  Thier. 
I hear this, and yet live;  
Heart art thou thunder proof, will nothing break thee?  
she's dead, and what her entertainment may be  
In th'other world without me is uncertain,  
And dare I stay here unresolved?  Mart. 
Oh Sir!  Brun. 
Dear son.  Pret. 
Great King.  Thier. 
Unhand me, am I fall'n  
So low, that I have lost the power to be  
Disposer of my own life?  Mart. 
Be but pleased  
To borrow so much time of sorrow, as  
To call to mind her last request, for whom  
(I must confess a loss beyond expression)  
You turn your hand upon yourself, 'twas hers  
And dying hers, that you should live and happy  
In seeing little models of yourself,  
By matching with another, and will you  
Leave any thing that she desired ungranted?  
And suffer such a life that was laid down  
For your sake only to be fruitless?  Thier. 
Oh thou dost throw charms upon me, against which  
I cannot stop my ears, bear witness heaven  
That not desire of life, nor love of pleasure  
Nor any future comforts, but to give  
Peace to her blessed spirit in satisfying  
Her last demand, makes me defer our meeting,  
Which in my choice, and sudden choice shall be  
To all apparent,  Brun. 
How? do I remove one mischief  
To draw upon my head a greater?  Thier. 
Go, thou only good man, to whom for herself  
Goodness is dear, and prepare to inter it  
In her that was; O my heart! my Ordella,  
A monument worthy to be the casket  
Of such a jewel.  Mart. 
Your command that makes way  
Unto my absence is a welcome one,  
For but yourself there's nothing here Martell  
Can take delight to look on; yet some comfort  
Goes back with me, to her, who though she want it  
Deserves all blessings. Exit.  Brun. 
So soon to forget  
The loss of such a wife, believe it will  
Be censured in the world.  Thier. 
Pray you no more,  
There is no argument you can use to cross it,  
But does increase in me such a suspicion  
I would not cherish,— who's that?  Enter Memberge. Memb. 
One, no guard  
Can put back from access, whose tongue no threats  
Nor praises can silence, a bold suitor and  
For that which if you are yourself, a King,  
You were made so to grant it, Justice, Justice.  Thier. 
With what assurance dare you hope for that  
Which is denied to me? or how can I  
Stand bound to be just, unto such as are  
Beneath me, that find none from those that are  
Above me.  Memb. 
There is justice, 'twere unfit  
That any thing but vengeance should fall on him,  
That by his giving way to more than murder,  
For my dear father's death was particide)  
Makes it his own.  Brun. 
I charge you hear her not.  Memb. 
Hell cannot stop just prayers from entering heaven,  
I must and will be heard Sir; but remember  
That he that by her plot fell, was your brother,  
And the place where, your Palace, against all  
Th'inviolable rites of Hospitality,  
Your word, a King's word, given up for his safety,  
His innocence, his protection, and the Gods  
Bound to revenge the impious breach of such  
So great and facred bonds; and can you wonder,  
(That in not punishing such a horrid murder  
You did it) that heaven's favour is gone from you?  
Which never will return until his blood  
Be washed away in hers.  Brun. 
Drag hence the wretch.  Thier. 
Forbear: with what variety  
Of torments do I meet? Oh thou hast opened  
A book in which writ down in bloody letters,  
My conscience finds that I am worthy of  
More than I undergo, but I'll begin  
For my Ordella's sake, and for thine own  
To make less heavens great anger: thou hast lost  
A father, I to thee am so; the hope  
Of a good husband, in me have one; nor  
Be fearful I am still no man, already  
That weakness is gone from me.  Brun. 
That it might aside  
Have ever grown inseparably upon thee,  
What will you do? Is such a thing as this  
Worthy the loved Ordella's place, the daughter  
Of a poor Gardiner?  Memb. 
Your son.  Thier. 
The power  
To take away that lowness is in me.  Brun. 
Stay yet, for rather than thou shalt add  
Incest unto thy other sins, I will  
With hazard of my own life utter all  
Theodoret was thy brother.  Thier. 
You denied it,  
Upon your oath, nor will I now believe you,  
Your Protean turn cannot change my purpose.  Memb. 
And for me, be assured the means to be.  
Revenge on thee vile hag, admits no thought,  
But what tends to it.  Brun. 
Is it come to that?  
Then have at the last refuge; art thou grown  
Insensible in ill, that thou goest on  
Without the least compunction? there, take that  
To witness that thou hadst a mother, which  
Foresaw thy cause of grief, and sad repentance,  
That so soon after blessed Ordella's death  
Without a tear thou canst embrace another,  
Forgetful man.  Thier. 
Mine eyes when she is named  
Cannot forget their tribute, and your gift  
Is not unuseful now  Lecure 
He's passed all cure, that only touch is death.  Thier. 
This night I'll keep it,  
To morrow I will send it you, and full of my affliction. Exit Thierry.  Brun. 
Is the poison mortal?  Lecure 
Above the help of physic.  Brun. 
To my wish,  
Now for our own security, you Protaldy  
Shall this night post towards Austrachia,  
With letters to Theodoret's bastard son,  
In which we will make known what for his rising  
We have done to Thierry: no denial,  
Nor no excuse in such acts must be though of,  
Which all dislike, and all again commend  
When they are brought unto a happy end  Exeunt.   

Act. 5.  

Scoe. 3.  Enter Devitry, and 4 Soldiers. Devitry. 
No war, no money, no Master; banished the Court, not trusted in the City, whipped out of the country, in what a triangle runs our misery: let me hear which of you has the best voice to beg in, for other hopes or fortunes I see you have not; be not nice, nature provided you with tones for the purpose, the people's charity was your heritage, and I would see which of you deserves his birthright.  Omnes. 
We understand you not Captain.  Devit. 
You see this cardecue, the last and the only quintessence of 50 crowns, distilled in the alembic of your gardage, of which happy piece thou shalt be treasurer: now he that can soon persuade him to part with't, enjoys it, possesses it, and with it, me and my future countenance.  1. 
If they want art to persuade it, I'll keep it myself.  Devit. 
So you be not a partial judge in your own cause, you shall.  Omnes. 
A match.  2. 
I'll begin to you, brave Sir; be proud to make him happy by your liberality, whose tongue vouchsafes now to petition, was never heard before less than to command. I am a soldier by profession, a gentleman by birth, and an officer by place, whose poverty blushes to be the cause that so high a virtue should descend to the pity of your charity.  1. 
In any case keep your high stile, it is not charity to shame any man, much less a virtue of your eminence, wherefore preserve your worth, and I'll preserve my money.  3. 
You persuade? you are shallow, give way to merit: ah by the bread of good man, thou hast a bonny countenance and a blithe, promising much good to a sicker womb, that has trod a long and a soar ground to meet with friends that will owe much to thy reverence, when they shall hear of thy courtesy to their wand'ring countryman.  1. 
You that will use your friends so hardly to bring them in debt Sir, will deserve worse of a stranger, wherefore pead on, pead on I say.  4. 
It is the welsh must do't I see, comrade man of worship, St. Tavy be her patron, the Gods of the mountains keep her cow and her cupboard, may she never want the green of the leek and the fat of the onion, if she part with her bounties to him that is a great deal away from her cousins, and has too big suits in law to recover her heritage.  1. 
Pardon me Sir, I will have nothing to do with your suits, it comes within the statute of maintenance: home to your cousins, and sow garlic and hempseed, the one will stop your hunger, the other end your suits, gammawash comrade, gammawash.  4. 
Foot he'll hoard all for himself.  Vitry. 
Yes, let him; now comes my turn, I'll see if he can answer me: save you Sir, they say you have that I want, money.  1. 
And that you are like to want, for aught I perceive yet.  Vitry. 
Stand, deliver.  1. 
Foot what mean you, you will not rob the Exchequer?  Vitry. 
Do you prate?  1. 
Hold, hold, here Captain.  2. 
Why I could have done this before you.  3. 
And I.  4. 
And I.  Vitry. 
You have done this, brave man he proud to make him happy, by the bread of God man thou hast a bonny countenance, comrade man of urship, St. Tavy be her patron, cut upon you, you uncurried colts, walking cans that have no souls in you, but a little rosin to keep your ribs sweet, and hold in liquor.  Omnes. 
Why, what would you have us to do Captain?  Devitry. 
Beg, beg, and keep Constables waking, wear out stocks and whipcord, mander for buttermilk, die of the jaundice, yet have the cure about you, louse, large louse, begot of your own dust, and the heat of the brick-kills, may you starve, and fear of the gallows, which is a gentle consumption to't, only prefer it, or may you fall upon your fear, and be hanged for selling those purses to keep you from famine whose moneys my valour empties, and be cast without other evidence; here is my fort, my castle of defence, who comes by shall pay me tolle, the first purse is your mittimus slaves.  2. 
The purse, foot we'll share in the money Captain, if any come within a furlong of our fingers.  4. 
Did you doubt but we could steal as well as yourself, did not I speak welsh?  3. 
We are thiefs from our cradles, an will die so.  Vitry. 
Then you will not beg again.  Omnes? 
Yes, as you did, stand, and deliver.  2. 
Hark, here comes handsel, 'tis a trade quickly set up, and as soon cast down.  Vitry. 
Have goodness in your minds varlets, and to't like men; he that has more money than we, cannet be our friend, and I hope there is no law for spoiling the enemy.  3. 
You need not instruct us farther, your example pleads enough.  Devitry. 
Disperse yourselves, and as their company is, fall on.  2. 
Come, there are a band of them, I'll charge single. Exit soldiers.  Enter Protaldy. Prot. 
'Tis wonderful dark, I have lost my man, and dare not call for him, lest I should have more followers than I would pay wages to; what throws am I in, in this travail? these be honourable adventure; had I that honest blood in my veins again Queen, that your feats and these frights have drained from me, honour should pull hard ere it drew me into these brakes.  Devitry. 
Who goes there?  Prot. 
hay ho, here's a pang of preferment.  Devi. 
Hart, who goes there?  Prot. 
He that has no heart to your acquaintance, what shall I do with my jewels and my letter, my codpiece, that's too lose, good, my boots, who is't that spoke to me? here's a friend.  Devit. 
We shall find that presently, stand, as you love your safety stand.  Prot. 
That unlucky word of standing has brought me to all this, hold, or I shall never stand you.  Devitry. 
I should know that voice, deliver.  Enter Soldiers. Prot. 
All that I have is at your service Gentlemen, and much good may it do you.  Devitry. 
Zones down with him, do you prate?  Prot. 
Keep your first word as you are Gentlemen, and let me stand, alas what do you mean?  2. 
To tie you to us Sir, bind you in the knot of friendship.  Prot. 
Alas Sir, all the physic in Europe cannot bind me.  Devit. 
You should have jewels about you, stones, precious stones.  1. 
Captain away, there's company within hearing, if you stay longer we are surprised.  Devitry. 
Let the Devil come, I'll pillage this frigate a little better yet.  2. 
Foot we are lost, they are upon us.  Devitry. 
Ha', upon us, make the least noise, 'tis thy parting gasp.  3. 
Which way shall we make Sir?  Devitry. 
Every man his own; do you hear, only bind me before you go, and when the company's past, make to this place again, this karvell should have better ladine in him, you are slow, why do you not tie harder?  1. 
You are sure enough I warrant you Sir.  Devitry. 
Darkness befriend you, away.  Exit soldiers. Prot. 
What tyrants have I met with? they leave me alone in the dark, yet would not have me cry. I shall grow wondrous melancholy if I stay long here without company; I was wont to get a nap with saying my prayers, I'll see if they will work upon me now; but then if I should talk in my sleep, and they hear me, they would make a Recorder of my windpipe, slit my throat: heaven be praised, I hear some noise, it may be new purchase, and then I shall have fellows.  Devitry. 
They are gone past hearing, now to task Devitry, help, help, as you are men help, some charitable hand, relieve a poor distressed miserable wretch; thiefs, wicked thiefs have robbed me, bound me.  Prot. 
Foot would they had gauged you too, your noise will betray us, and fetch them again.  Devit. 
What blessed tongue spoke to me, where, where are you Sir?  Prot. 
A plague of your bawling throat, we are well enough, if you have the grace to be thankful for't, do but snore to me, and 'tis as much as I desire, to pass away time with till morning, then talk as loud as you please Sir, I am bound not to stir, therefore lie still and snore I say.  Devit. 
Then you have met with thiefs too I see.  Prot. 
And desire to meet with no more of them.  Devit. 
Alas what can we suffer more? they are far enough by this time; have they not all, all that we have Sir?  Prot. 
No by my faith have they not Sir; I gave them one trick to boot for their learning, my boots Sir, my boots, I have saved my stock, and my jewels in them, and therefore desire to hear no more of them.  Devit. 
Now blessing on your wit Sir, what a dull slave was I, dreamt not of your conveyance? help to unbidd me Sir, and I'll undo you, my life for yours no worse thief than myself meets you again this night.  Prot. 
Reach me thy hands.  Devit. 
Here Sir, here, I could beat my brains out, that could not think of boots, boots Sir, wide topped boots, I shall love them the better whilst I live; but are you sure your jewels are here Sir?  Prot. 
Sure sayest thou? ha', ha', ha'.  Devit. 
So ho, illo ho. Within soldiers.  
Here Captain, here.  Prot. 
Foot what do you mean Sir?  Enter Soldiers. Devit. 
A trick to boot, say you; here you dull slaves, purchase, purchase the soul of the rock, diamonds, sparkling diamonds.  Prot. 
I am betrayed, lost, past recovery lost, as you are men.  Devit, 
Nay Rook, since you will be prating, we'll share your carrion with you, have you any other conveyance now Sir?  1. 
Foot here are letters, epistles, familiar epistles, we'll see what treasure is in them, they are sealed sure,  Pro, 
Gentlemen, as you are gentlemen spare my letters, and take all willingly, all: I'll give you a release, a general release, and meet you here too morrow with as much more.  Devit. 
Nay, since you have your tricks, and your conveyances, we will not leave a wrinkle of you unsearched.  Prot. 
Hark, there comes company, you will be betrayed, as you love your safeties beat out my brains, I shall betray you else.  Devitry. 
Treason, unheard of treason monstrous, monstrous villainies.  Prot. 
I confess myself a traitor, show yourselves good subjects, and hang me up for't.  1. 
If it be treason, the discovery will get our pardon Captain.  Devit. 
Would we were all lost, hanged, quartered to save this one, one innocent Prince; Thierry's poisoned, by his mother poisoned, the Mistress to this stallion, who by that poison ne'er shall sleep again.  2 
Foot let us mince him by piecemeal, till he eat himself up.  3. 
Let us dig out his heart with needles, and half broil him, like a mussel.  Prot. 
Such another and I prevent you, my blood's settled already.  Devit. 
Here's that shall remove it, toad, viper, drag him unto Martell, unnatural parricide, cruel, bloody woman.  Omnes. 
On you dogfish, leech, caterpillar.  Devit. 
A longer sight of him will make my rage turn pity, and with his sudden end prevent revenge and torture, wicked, wicked Brunhalt. Exit.  Enter Bawdber, and 3. Courtiers. 1. 
Not sleep at all, no means.  2. 
No art can do it.  Bawdb. 
I will assure you he can sleep no more  
Than a hooded hawk, a centinel to him,  
Or one of the City Constables are tops.  3. 
How came he so?  Bawdb. 
They are too wise that dare know,  
Something's amiss, heaven help all.  1. 
What cures has he?  Bawdb. 
Armies of those we call Physicians, some with glisters,  
Some with lettuce caps, some posset drinks some pills,  
Twenty consulting here about a drench,  
As many here to blood him;  
Then comes a Don of Spain, and he prescribes  
More cooling opium than would kill a turk,  
Or quench a whore i'th' dog-days; after him  
A wife Italian, and he cries, tie unto him  
A woman of fourscore, whose bones are marble,  
Whose blond snow water, not so much heat about her  
As may conceive a prayer: after him  
An English Doctor, with a bunch of pot herbs,  
And he cries out Endive and succory,  
With a few mallow roots and buttermilk,  
And talks of oil made of a Churchman's charity,  
Yet still he wakes.  1. 
But your good honour  
Has a prayer in store if all should fail.  Bawdb. 
I could have prayed, and handsomely,  
But age and an ill memory.  3. 
Has spolled your primer.  Bawdb. 
Yet if there be a man of faith i'th' Court,  
An can pray for a pension.  Enter Thierry on a bed, with Doctors and Attendants. 2. 
Here's the King Sir,  
And those that will pray without pay.  Bawdb. 
Then pray for me too.  1. Doct. 
How does your Grace feel yourself now?  Thier. 
What's that?  1. Doct. 
Nothing at all Sir, but your fancy.  Thier. 
Tell me,  
Can ever these eyes more shut up in slumbers,  
Assure my soul there is sleep? is there night  
And rest for humane labours? do not you  
And all the world as I do, outstare time,  
And live like funeral lamps never extinguished?  
Is there a grave, and do not flatter me,  
Nor fear to tell me truth; and in that grave  
Is there a hope I shall sleep, can I die,  
Are not my miseries immortal? oh  
The happiness of him that drinks his water  
After his weary day, and sleeps for ever,  
Why do you crucify me thus with faces,  
And gaping strangely upon one another,  
When shall I rest?  2. Doct. 
O Sir be patiented.  Thier. 
Am I not patiented? have I not endured  
More than a mangy dog among your dosses?  
Am I not now your patient? ye can make  
Unwholesome fools sleep for a guarded foot-cloth,  
Whores for a hot sin offering; yet I must crave  
That feed ye, and protect ye, and proclaim ye,  
Because my power is fare above your searching,  
Are my diseases so? can ye cure none  
But those of equal ignorance, dare ye kill me?  1. Doct. 
We do beseech your grace be more reclaimed,  
This talk doth but distemper you.  Thier. 
Well, I will die  
In spite of all your potions; one of you sleep,  
Lie down and sleep here, that I may behold  
What blessed rest it is my eyes are robbed of:  
See, he can sleep, sleep any where, sleep now,  
When he that wakes for him can never slumber,  
Is't not a dainty ease?  2. Doct. 
Your Grace shall feel it.  Thier. 
O never I, never, the eyes of heaven  
See but their certain motions, and then sleep,  
The rages of the Ocean have their slumbers,  
And quiet silver calms; each violence  
Crowns in his end a peace, but my fixed fires  
Shall never, never set, who's that?  Enter Martell, Brunhalt, Devitry, Soldiers. Mart. 
No woman,  
Mother of mischief, no the day shall die first,  
And all good things live in a worse than thou art,  
Ere thou shalt sleep, dost thou see him?  Brun. 
Yes, and curse him,  
And all that love him fool, and all live by him.  Mart. 
Why art thou such a monster?  Brun. 
Why art thou  
So tame a knave to ask me?  Mart. 
Hope of hell,  
By this fair holy light, and all his wrongs  
Which are above thy years, almost thy 〈◊〉  
Thou shalt not rest, not feel more what is pity,  
Know nothing necessary, meet no society.  
But what shall curse and crucify thee, feel in thyself  
Nothing but what thou art, bane and bad conscience,  
Till this man rest; but for whose reverence  
Because thou art his mother, I would say  
Whore, this shall be, do ye nod? I'll waken ye  
With my sword's point.  Brun. 
I wish no more of heaven,  
Nor hope no more, but a sufficient anger  
To torture thee.  Mart. 
See, she that makes you see Sir  
And to your misery still see your mother,  
The mother of your woes Sir, of your waking,  
The mother of your people's cries and curses,  
Your murdering mother, your malicious mother.  Thier. 
Physicians, half my state to sleep an hour now;  
Is it so mother?  Brun. 
Yes it is so son;  
And were it yet again to do, it should be.  Mart. 
She nods again, swing her.  Thier. 
But mother,  
For yet I love that reverence, and to death  
Dare not forget you have been so; was this,  
This endless misery, this cureless malice,  
This snatching from me all my youth together,  
All that you made me for, and happy mothers  
Crowned with eternal time are proud to finish,  
Done by your will?  Brun. 
It was, and by that will.  Thier. 
O mother, do not lose your name, forget not  
The touch of nature in you, tenderness  
'Tis all the soul of woman, all the sweetness;  
Forget not I beseech you what are children,  
Nor how you have groaned for them, to what love  
They are borne inheritors, with what care kept,  
And as they rise to ripeness still remember  
How they imp out your age; and 〈◊〉 time calls you,  
That as an Autumn flower you fall, forget not  
How round about your hearse they hang like pennons.  Brun. 
Holy fool,  
Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has killed thee,  
Preach not to me of punishments or fears,  
Or what I ought to be, but what I am,  
A woman in her liberal will defeated,  
In all her greatness crossed, in pleasures blasted,  
My angers have been laughed at, my ends slighted,  
And all those glories that had crowned my fortunes,  
Suffered by blasted virtue to be scattered,  
I am the fruitful mother of these angers,  
And what such have done, read, and know thy ruin.  Thier. 
Heaven forgive you.  Mart. 
She tells you true, for millions of her mischiefs  
Are now apparent, Protaldy we have taken  
An equal agent with her, to whose care  
After the damned defeat on you, she trusted  Enter Messenger. 
The bringing in of Leonor the bastard  
Son to your murdered brother; her physician  
By this time is attached to that damned devil.  Messen. 
'Tis like he will be so, for ere we came,  
Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs,  
He drenched himself.  Brun. 
He did like one of mine then.  Thier. 
Must I still see these miseries, no night  
To hid me from their horrors, that Protaldy  
See justice fall upon.  Brun. 
Now I could sleep too.  Enter Ordella Mart. 
I'll give you yet more poppy, bring the Lady  
And heaven in her embraces; gives him quiet  
Madam, unveil yourself.  Ordella. 
I do forgive you,  
And though you sought my blood, yet I'll pray for you,  Brun. 
Art thou alive?  Mart. 
Now could you sleep.  Brun. 
For ever.  Mart. 
Go carry her without wink of sleep, or quiet,  
Where her strong knave Protaldy's broke o'th' wheel,  
And let his cries & roars be music toner,  
I mean to waken her.  Thier. 
Do her no wrong.  Mart. 
Nor right as you love justice.  Brun. 
I will think,  
And if there be new curses in old nature,  
I have a soul dare send them.  Mart. 
Keep her waking.  Exit Brunhalt. Thier. 
What's that appears so sweetly? their's that face.  Mart. 
Be moderate Lady.  Their. 
That angel's face.  Mart. 
Go neraer.  Thier. 
Martell, I cannot last long, see the soul,  
I see it perfectly of my Ordella,  
The heavenly figure of her sweetness there,  
Forgive me Gods, it comes, divinest substance,  
Kneel, kneel, kneel every one, Saint of thy sex,  
If it be for my cruelty thou comest,  
Do ye see her ho?  Mart. 
Yes Sir, and you shall know her.  Thierry, 
Down, down again, to be revenged for blood,  
Sweet spirit I am ready, she smiles on me,  
O blessed sign of peace.  Mart. 
Go nearer Lady.  Ordella. 
I come to make you happy  Thier. 
Hear you that Sir?  
She comes to crown my soul away, get sacrifice,  
Whilst I with holy honours.  Mart. 
she's alive sir.  Thier. 
In everlasting life I know it friend,  
O happy, happy soul.  Ordella. 
Alas I live Sir  
A mortal woman still.  Thier. 
Can spirits weep too?  Mart. 
she's no spirit Sir, pray kiss her; Lady,  
Be very gentle to him.  Thier. 
Stay, she is warm,  
And by my life the same lips tell me brightness,  
Are you the same Ordella still?  Mart. 
The same Sir.  
Whom heavens and my good Angel stayed from ruin.  Thier. 
Kiss me again.  Ordella. 
The same still, still your servant.  Thier. 
'Tis she, I know her now Martell; sit down sweet,  
O blessed and happiest woman, a dead slumber  
Gins to creep upon me, O my jewel!  Enter Messenger and Memberge. Ordella, 
O sleep my Lord.  Thier. 
My joys are too much for me.  Messen. 
Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to fee  
Protaldy tortured, has choked herself.  Mort. 
No more, her sins go with her.  Thier. 
Love I must die, I faint, close up my glasses.  1. Doct. 
The Queen faints too, and deadly.  Thier. 
One dying kiss.  Ordella. 
My last Sir, and my dearest, and now  
Close my eyes too.  Thier. 
Thou perfect woman,  
Martell, the kingdom's yours, take Memberge to you,  
And keep my line alive; nay weep not Lady,  
Take me, I go.  Ordella. 
Take me too, farewell honour.  Dies both. 2. Doct. 
They are gone for ever.  Mart. 
The peace of happy souls go after them,  
Bear them to their last beds, whilst I study  
A tomb to speak their loves; whilst old time lasteth,  
I am your King in sorrows.  Omnes. 
We your subjects.  Mart. 
Devitry, for your service, be near us,  
Whip out these instruments of this mad mother  
From Court, and all good people; and because  
She was borne noble, let that title find her  
A private grave, but neither tongue nor honour:  
And now lead on, they that shall read this story,  
Shall find that virtue lives in good, not glory. Exeunt Omnes.    
FINIS