THE Rewards of Virtue; A COMEDY.  
By J. F. Gent.  
LONDON, Printed by Ja. Cottrel, for Hen. Fletcher at the three Gilt Cups in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1661.   

The Persons.  

BASILIUS, the King.  
THEANDER, the Prince.  
The PRIEST.  
PYRRHUS, a Lord of the Court, the King's confident.  
NEANDER, a vain Lord of high birth.  
ENDYMION, a Lord of a small fortune.  
GERON, an old jealous Knight, husband to PHRONESIA.  
The QUEEN.  
CLEANTHA, a young Princess, Niece to the QUEEN.  
URANIA, a young Shepherdess waiting on CLEANTHA.  
EVADNE, daughter to the PRIEST, newly come to the Court.  
PHRONESIA, an ordinary Court-Madam, belonging to the QUEEN.  
PARTHENIA, Mother to URANIA.   
The Scoene, Arcadia.   


Actus 1. Scoena 1.  Enter Pyrrhus, Neander, and Endymion. Pyrrh. 
BElieve't, my Lords, they say the Prince doth wonders.  Neand. 
They say he kills a world of men indeed.  
But i'faith, I think the wondered greater been,  
Had he made but half so many live.  Pyrrh. 
Perchance my Lord, you'd have him turn Physician.  Nean. 
Rather than Butcher; 'tis the nobler Trade.  Pyrrh. 
Why? but they are his enemies he kills,  
Men that offend, and do deserve to die.  Neand. 
Oh! than I think you'll praise the Hangman next;  
You give a definition of his Trade.  Pyrrh. 
If I do not mistake your humour Sir,  
You never were much taken with this dying:  
It is a thing (I do confess) doth mar  
A Courtier much.  Neand. 
Why faith my Lord 'tis true.  
Let broken Merchants and the busy rout  
Who dirt the Streets, when their designs miscarry,  
Cry that there's nothing certain in this world;  
I think there's less in that which is to come.  
Here I am sure of something: I'm a Lord,  
And live with Men. But to be turned a grazing  
In the Elysian-Fields that men do talk of,  
Among Philosophers ne'er could make a leg,  
Who purblind grew with viewing of those Stars  
Ne'er made them worth a groat; and took strange pains  
In measuring Sea and Land, when they'd more need  
To have a Tailor come and measure them;  
In troth my Lord, here's blessed Company;  
Who would not change this world for such a life?  Endym. 
Fie, fie, Neander. This is too profane,  
And relisheth far more of beast then man.  Neand. 
My Lord, I ask you pardon: I'd forgot  
You are a Vertiosi— 'Tis my Lord Pyrrhus  
That makes me wander from my argument,  
By putting me in mind o'th' world to come:  
(A Theme indeed, on which few men speak sense)—  
But to the matter first proposed,— My Lord,  
The thing I only stuck at, was that you  
(So wise a man) should give so mighty Names  
To killing Men. Why! celebrate the Plague;  
What General ever did destroy like that?  
Or study glorious: Titles for old-age,  
That kills all those, whom nothing else can kill.  
Great Warriors are but the journeymen  
Of fatal Atropos, whose swords she useth  
To cut men's lives off, but to save her shears,  
Which else had sure been edgeless long ago  
With too much work; and we (for aught I see)  
By this time might have all immortal been,  
Having by long dying worn out Death itself.  [Endymion smiles] Pyrrh. 
My Lord, i'faith he that dares dispute with you,  
Must be a cunning Sophister, I see;  
Must be content to give you victory,  
Without receiving truth in exchange for't.  Neand. 
The truth is, my Lords, in short, you have all the wit, though I have all the talk— Far you well; I believe I shall not much mar your discourse by my absence, nor will you much mend my manners by your presence: adieu.  [Exit Neand.] Pyrrh. 
'Tis a mad Lord as e'er was born: 'twere pretty  
(If possible) to sit within his skull,  
And take a Prospect of his giddy thoughts,  
Which do like Centaurs seem, half Man, half Beast.  Endym. 
He's too profane; and chooseth to buy wit  
At the expense of Friends, Religion,  
And all, but Lady's smiles; which he more values,  
Then honest Men do the kind looks of Heaven.  Pyrrh. 
And nothing hates like Reputation won  
By Arms. He hates all Deities, for Mars his sake▪  
And swears that Generals only famous grow  
By valiant Friends, or cowardly Enemies;  
Or (what is worse) by some mean piece of chance.  Endym. 
The truth's, my Lord, 'tis pretty to observe  
How little Princes and great Generals  
Contribute ofttimes, to the fame they win.  
How often hathed been found, that noblest minds  
With too short arms have fought with fatal Stars?  
And have endeavoured with their dearest blood  
To mollify those Diamonds where dwell  
The fate of Kingdoms; and at last have fallen  
By vulgar hands; unable now to do  
More for their cause then die; and have been lost  
Among the sacrifies of their own swords,  
No more remembered then poor Villagers  
Whose ashes sleep beneath the common flowers  
That every meadow wears: whilst other men  
With trembling hands have caught a victory,  
And on pale foreheads worn triumphant bays.  Pyrrh. 
Believe't, 'tis true.  Endym. 
Besides, my Lord, I've thought,  
A thousand times; in times of War, when we  
Lift up our hands to Heaven for victory;  
Suppose some Virgin Shepherdess, whose soul  
'S as chaste, and clean, as the cold spring where she  
Quench's all her thirsts, being told of enemies  
That seek to fright the long-enjoyed Peace  
Of our Arcadia hence with sound of Drums;  
And with Horse, Trumpets, Warlike Airs, to drown  
The harmless Music of her Oaten Reeds;  
Should in the passion of her troubled spirit  
Repair to some small Fane (such as the Gods  
Hear poor folks from) and there on humble knees  
Lift up her trembling hands to holy Pan,  
And beg his helps: it's possible to think  
That Heaven, which counts the purest vows most rich,  
May not permit her still to weep in vain,  
But grant her wish, (for would the Gods ne'er hear  
The prayers of poor folks, they'd ne'er bid them pray)  
And so, in the next Action happeneth out,  
(The Gods still using means) the enemy  
May be defeated. The glory of all this  
Is attributed to the General,  
And none but he's spoke loud of for the Act,  
Whilst she from whose so unaffected tears  
His Laurel sprung, for ever dwells unknown.  Pyrrh. 
Your Lordship doth not doubt the Prince his merit.  Endym. 
By no means, Sir; I know the Prince a man  
Who owns a soul of that vast magnitude,  
That flesh did never circumscribe a greater:  
And merits so much from the virtuous world,  
By's rare example, that the world itself  
Were but too mean a present to require him.  
All that I say, is what I've thought upon  
Some hours of sweet retirement, when I've sat  
And viewed the fleeting state of poor mankind,  
A thing too giddy to be understood.  Pyrrh. 
Indeed the Prince doth more than give us hopes  
Arcadia shall command those Provinces  
Who lately thought our long and happy Peace  
Had softened so our minds, that now we were  
Fit to be lorded over by their wills.  
But strange it is to see the King so little  
Joyed with the news, that still he wears a face  
More troubled than Cicilian Seas in storms:  
And all but for the love of that poor Maid  
The Prince not ten months since took from a Cottage  
As he a hunting was, and gave the fair  
Cleantha for a present.  Endym. 
Who! Urania?  Pyrrh. 
Yes.— But stay; I see him coming Enter King.  
Let us retire. It may be we shall hear  
Some of the thoughts that trouble him.  Endym. 
Hush.  King 
— Ah! Where will this tyrant end? Heaven! shall I still  
Be Priest, and Sacrifice, and Altar too,  
Unto a passion I can satisfy,  
But never conquer? what poor things are Kings!  
What poorer things are Nations to obey  
Him whom a petty Passion doth command?  
Fate, why was man made so ridiculous?—  
But I can quench my Flame. And where my prayers  
Have not prevailed, my power can command.  
Who in Arcadia dare resist my will?—  
— But, stay!— When this poor Maid, sprung from a stock  
Low as the Cottage where she first saw light,  
Shall call on Virtue, and the Gods to keep  
Her body (they too weakly have exposed)  
White as her soul, which all the world can't sully;  
Shall I (whom men call sacred, and divine,  
And look on as derived from Ancestors  
Who have not Tombs but Altars) without shame,  
And thousand blushes, dare with ruder force  
To drive poor Virtue from her cleanest Temple,  
And use that power the Gods have given me  
O'er others, but t'offend them how I please?  
By Heaven, by Heaven, I will not.— But I die.  
Oh I am mortal. Men but flatter me.  
Oh fate, why were not Kings made more than Men?  
Or why will people have us to be more?  
Alas! we govern others, but ourselves  
We cannot rule; as our eyes that do see  
All other things, but cannot see themselves.  
I must submit.— I am a King, but LOVE  
'S a Deity— I am resolved to try  
Whether Urania will Love, or die.  
I'll in, and faithful Pyrrhus straight shall prove  
My fate. Lords must be Pimps, when Kings do love. Exit King  [Pyrrhus and Endymion appear again.] Pyrrh. 
He's gone.  Endym. 
But he first thought on your employment.  Pyrrh. 
Truth, I have had already but too much on't.  Endym. 
Have you then been the Mercury between  
Him and the fair Urania?  Pyrrh. 
Yes, I have  
Already done what Language and Rewards  
Have power to do. But she's as deaf to this  
As blind to those. She seemeth not to see  
Ought shine but Virtue.  Endym. 
But, what can she say.  
Poor Country Girl? Where can she find words  
And resolution when you do assault her?  Pyrrh. 
Why i'faith my Lord, I'll tell you. When I first  
Mentioned the business to her all alone,  
Poor soul she blushed, as if already she  
Had done some harm, by hearing of me speak;  
Whilst from her pretty eyes two Fountains run  
So true, so native, down her fairest Cheeks,  
As if she thought herself obliged to cry,  
'Cause all the world was not so good as she.  Endym. aside. 
Heaven! how doth this carriage please me!  Pyrrh. 
For my own part, I know not what to say,  
Her tears so innocently begged my pity,  
That I was strait turned over to her side;  
And had forgot the cause for which I strove,  
Till rallying once again, I once more gave  
A new assault, and urged her to an answer.  
All her reply was, No; then humbly prayed me  
Not to be cruel to a poor weak maid  
Who had not any thing in all the world  
To give her credit, but her innocence.  
With such success as this I often have  
Assailed her virtue, adding promises  
Of all things I could suppose might tempt her;  
But all in vain. This Ermyne will not be  
Persuaded from the whiteness she so loves.  Endym. 
And do you think the King will now use force?  Pyrrh. 
You heard him what he said. I cannot tell.  
'Tis hard to say what men whom reason guides  
Intent to do, much more whom passion rides.—  
But let's away: I would not have him know  
We were so near the venting of his thoughts.  Endym. 
There comes my Lord Leander, let's away.  Exeunt severally. Enter Neander, Cleantha, and Urania waiting on her. Neand. 
How doth this hour transport my soul with Joy,  
To have the blessed privilege to be  
With fair Cleantha— the best Princess.—  Cleanth. 
I'm glad it makes some body happy Sir.  Neand. 
With her who hath my heart—  Cleanth. 
Have it I, Sir? Pray my Lord then take it again, for I would not be troubled with the keeping such a bauble for all the world.  Neand. 
She, whom great Nature, now grown wanton, made  
To look upon and scorn her other works.  Cleanth. 
My Lord, I see you are resolved not to study to no purpose. You will have our your Compliment, let me say what I please. But, by the by, I hope you will not be angry if I prove somewhat like my scornful Mother (as you say) and make you the first example of it. Far you well.  Neanth. 
Nay, Madam; I beseech your Highness—  Cleand. 
Nay, my Lord, now I have put you out of your Compliment, I'll tarry a little longer.  Neand. 
Madam, You are cruel. How do you kill—  Cleanth. 
Kill, Neander? No sure, for than you would be afraid to come near me.  Neand. 
Great Princess, You are cruel. But I ne'er  
Can fear Death from so fair a hand as yours.  Cleanth. 
Perchance you do yourself the justice to think that such will not foul their fingers about you. I believe, indeed, my Lord, You fear Death least from the hands of a woman, which is the reason you choose to tarry here at Court among the Ladies, rather than go to the War with the Prince.  Neand. 
Madam, You Ladies have a Privilege.  Cleanth. 
Yes, my Lord, it's sometimes a Privilege to speak Truth.  Neand. 
I'faith Madam, You may say what you please.  Cleanth. 
Pardon me, my Lord; it would please me much better if I could say you were in the war in Thessalia.  Neand. 
Why truly Madam, I could give your Highness very good reasons why I went not to the war with the Prince.  Cleanth. 
I believe you can, my Lord: and so can every body else that knows your Lordship. It was because you were afraid.  Neand. 
Do not disgrace me so, Madam, I beseechy you. It was for very different reasons.  Cleanth. 
Truly my Lord, You will give very much satisfaction to the world, if you say what they are; and very much undeceive them.  Neand. 
Why then, Madam, to tell you truly, I am somewhat troubled with Corns, so that I cannot without pain wear a riding Boot: And then I am strangely subject to the Toothache, which makes me very unfit to lie in the Field. Which, indeed, were the two main reasons made me to refuse the war.  Cleanth. 
What pity it is so brave a mind should be thus unluckily hindered from showing itself!  Neand. 
Madam, I perceive you jeer me.  Cleanth. 
What a quick apprehension you have, my Lord! And do not you perceive you merit it?— But the Queen will expect me, and possibly Sir, you are by this time somewhat satisfied with my company: adieu.  Exeunt Cleanth. and Urania. Neand. 
Pox take her for me, for all she is so great a Lady. But what an ass was I to be so out of countenance? Well, i'faith, I even see I must go and be drunk, to recover myself again: for at the present, by Jove, I am damnably cowed.  Exit. Neand. Enter Endymion sol. Endym. 
Alas my poor Urania! how doth  
Thy harder fortune vindicate my choice?  
Who now dare say Endymion loved too low  
When he loved her that can make Princes die?  
No more, no more, we must scorn Cottages;  
These are the Rocks from whence our Jewels come.  
Gold breeds in barren Hills, the brightest Stars  
Shine over the poorer Regions of the North.  
But, say my dear! why didst thou cast away  
Thy Beams, to thaw that Ice, which but makes clouds  
To sully thy own face? Unwise Urania,  
Let me a little chide thee now.— But Fool;  
Can Urania choose but to be fair?  
Can she help it that she'th pretty eyes?  
Or gather the soft Roses from her cheeks?  
Is't in her power to make her lips less coral,  
Her Teeth less Pearls? Or will her breasts obey her  
If she god bid them to be snow no more?  
No, poor Urania; come, we'll both chide Nature;  
'Twas she, 'twas she alone dealt hardly with thee,  
When she made thee fairer than all others.  
Or else 'twas Fortune, when she took thee from  
The fresh delights of thy still Hermitage.  
There hadst thou lived, and by some silver Brook  
Unenvied sang away thy softer hours,  
And killed a thousand Shepherds with thy eyes;  
There hadst thou gathered Jewels from the Fields  
To deck thee with, more beauteous than thy Pearls,  
And like a Queen hadst changed them every day:  
There hadst thou never wept, but for the fate  
Of some poor Lamb perchance, which used to lay  
Her sleepy head upon thy lap; No Kings  
Had threatened thee for being virtuous,  
Nor Ladies envied thee for being fair.  
Perfections than had been no sins; but had  
Received the little Tributes which kind nature  
Gives to those honest folks who dwell with her.  
And had she been content, she had been rich.  
And folks thus rich can never be made poor,—  
But stay— I hear some coming: I'll away,  
And search her out: may be she needs my help.  Exit. Endym. Enter Queen and Phronesia. Queen. 
And is the old Knight so jealous, Phronesia? It may be you give him cause.  Phron. 
No other cause an't please your Majesty, but that I am with child.  Queen. 
He knew not that (you say) until this morning.  Phron. 
He knew not certain Madam, till this morning. But he hath more than doubted me these fourteen days.  Queen. 
Why did he marry, if he thought he could not get thee with child?  Phroneses. 
I cannot tell, an't please your Majesty.  Queen. 
Why dost not ask him?  Phron. 
I have.  Queen. 
And what saith he?  Phron. 
He told me—  Queen. 
What did he tell thee?  Phron. 
An't please your Majesty, you can't imagine his wicked intentions.  Queen. 
What did he tell thee?  Phron. 
He told me he married only to keep me honest.  Queen. 
But now it seems he is convinced, 'tis more than he can do.  Phroneses. 
Every man best knows his own abilities.  Queen. 
Well, Phronesia, I must talk with you a little more. But this place is not altogether so convenient for it. Fellow me  Exeunt Queen and Phroneses. Enter Priest and Evadne. Priest 
Well now, Evadne, my dear child, thou art  
Come forth upon the World's great Stage; and it  
Must be my care, first to advise thee, then  
To pray for thee. And this is all that's in  
My power to do. The rest must be the Gods  
And thy part to perform. Yet thou'rt innocent,  
(Oh mayst thou still be so, my child!) yet knowst not  
Aught but the holy practices of cells,  
Where virtuous Matrons have instructed thee.  
But now the Scene is changed: the Queen's commands  
Have brought thee to the Court, to wait on her.  
Th'imployment truly Noble; and thou hast  
In her the brightest Pattern of true Virtue  
That all the world can boast of. But thou'lt find  
Few more besides, whose wandering paths are safe.  
Those of thy Sex, thou'lt find so strangely vain,  
That they can think they have curled, and patched, and washed  
Themselves even into little Deities.  
They do believe that wanton men speak truth,  
When to consume those hours they care not for,  
They tell them that their eyes are more than Stars,  
Their cheeks more rosy than the morning's face,  
And coral learned its redness from the lips.  
And by degrees they do so strangely cheat  
Themselves (poor souls) into the fond belief  
That they not only are the fairest, but  
The wisest too; and will not be content  
With all the beauty, without all the wit.  
And now they are attained to that degree,  
All must admire, but none must merit them;  
Until that Time (too old to compliment)  
Takes from them all those little Ornaments  
Which wanton Nature had adorned them with  
And then they do awake, the Dream is done,  
The Market falls, and some distressed Knight  
Unenvied bears away what all had courted.  
This is the common Fate of your poor Sex,  
(To pass by what is worse, yet but too common)  
When they get great opinions of themselves.  
Therefore Evadne, let me pray thee still  
Keep thy best Jewel, thy humility.  
For since thou ne'er wilt be more innocent  
Than now thou art, thou ne'er wilt have more reason  
To think well of the self than thou hast now.  
If thou wear'st better ; alas, consider,  
Each little little Flower that doth in Meadows grow  
Is better clad then thee, yet is not proud.  
Hence mayst thou shun that common vice of Courts,  
Scorn and contempt of others, which oft have  
A nobler Virtue, though a meaner fortune.  
For know, Evadne, that this lower world  
In which we dwell, is not distributed  
According to folk's merits: the Gods preserve  
That justice for those nobler Regions which  
Themselves inhabit. Here the mighty are  
Like mighty Mountains, high, but seldom fertile;  
The richest soil is in low Valleys found.  
Devotion ofttimes weeps in humble cells,  
Whilst under gilded roofs profaneness sings.  
This is this the world, Evadne.— But to come  
To what I've else to say, Thy next temptation  
Will be to love (for hardly 'twixt those Ills  
Of easy love and scorn, do Maidens well  
Direct their course) know, thou wilt surely have▪  
Enough to court thee; some cause 'tis the mode;  
Others because they have nothing else to say;  
And wiser folks, because they think me rich.  
But know, Evadne, that to marry, is,  
The greatest action of our lives, and merits  
The greatest of our cares; and therefore if  
Thou thinkest me wiser than thyself, commit  
This to my breast. But above all, I warn thee  
Against Neander: Though thou seest him rich  
In , as if he would authorise vice,  
Ye he's a vain, profane, and idle person;  
One that would make me hate the name of father,  
Should he but call me so.— But who's that yonder?  Evad. 
I think Sir his name is Geron.  Priest. 
It is so. An impertiment old fellow, that will trouble me. Let's away. The Queen (I suppose) will by this time expect you. Think over what I have told you.  Exeunt Priest and Evad. Enter Geron sol. Geron. 
And have not I brought myself into a sweet condition now?— Heavens! nothing grieveth me but that I am an old fool. Why, could not I remember how many I had cuckold myself? and to think I should not be served in the same kind if ever I married, was to suppose neither wickedness nor justice in the world. How could I imagine that any one of the lower rate of Court-Ladies would ever keep herself honest three minutes, when once she feared neither the danger of taking Savine, nor a big-belly? Without all doubt, now the Priest hath given her leave to eat flesh, she runs from dish to dish, like a starved prisoner at a feast, who for three months hath had only the privilege to think of meat; and that's the reason her belly is so soon full. I might have been these four years a getting her— by the rate I went to work with her; but now (I think) I could do it with my horns, were it to do again. Ah! Geron, Geron! What a coxcomb art thou in thy old age? A reverend fool! How prettily do horns mingle with thy grey hairs? And yet thou art likely to cause more laughter than a wit. Heaven! What a condition am I in? My Lord Pyrrhus, he's a man of an aspiring spirit, and of what else, the world may imagine; but my head must have a hard bargain of it. My Lord Edymion he's a Poet, forsooth, and can find no other place but my reverend forehead for his forked Parnassus. And for my Lord Neander, the Priest convinced him the other day that adultery was a very great sin; and that is reason enough for him to lie at rack and manger. What a conspiracy is there here to make me a cuckold? O that I had now but the generosity to hang myself? Now do I perfectly perceive the pains that poor Children endure at the coming of their teeth, by the coming of my horns. How happy was I when I was a young man, when my care was only to keep my hair from forking, and I gave every Barber a fee for a receipt: but Oh that I had got but one receipt to keep my head from forking, in this my old age! Wicked Phronesia, How hast thou used me? How hast thou affronted my weakness, that thou hast made a collection through all the Court for a big-belly?— But, what a comfortable sight will it be to me, to see her lie in? what a deal of pleasure I shall take to pay the Midwife and Nurse? Well, it is now in my own power to make myself mazed immediately. O, O, O.  
I must away, I must. But ah! I dread  
I near shall get these horns out of my head.—  Exit Geron as in a fury. 
Finis Act. prim.   

Actus 2. Scoena 1.  Enter Pyrrhus and Urania, as in a Garden. Pyrrh. 
— Well, Madam Urania! You imagine my business. As long as you are pretty▪ folks will be amorous. You know my meaning.—  Vran. 
The Heavens forbidden.—  Pyrrh. 
Sure 'tis the twentieth time I've told you it,  
And must you hear it over again once more?  
I hope my business then is almost done,  
When thus you love the repetition of it.  Vran. 
My Lord! Oh add not injury to my misfortune!—  
Oh! pity; rather pity a poor Girl  
Who fain would seem to be as innocent  
As late she was, and not to understand  
How harmless words by men are turned to sins.  Pyrrh. 
Why should you be thus obstinate? To be  
A Mistress to a King; what greater honour  
Can those you serve ere hop'e t'aspire to?  Vran. 
A Mistress to a King! No, no, you'd have me  
To be a Servant to his vice; an honour  
I should not envy her that sought my ruin.  Pyrrh. 
Is love a vice, Urania? Then surely nature  
Did make us vicious when she did immerse  
Love in the very beings of all Creatures.  
Search the great Universe, and show me there  
What (but affrighted man) is not as free  
To satisfy his loves, as thirst or hunger?  
They near dispute the lawfulness of what  
Is natural. No stone was e'er so dull  
To make't a case of conscience whether it  
Should follow 'tis natural motion to the Centre.  
Love's natures representative, to whom she seems  
To have taught her Trade, and instituted it  
Still to continue all herself had made;  
Without which (surely) this whole world had been  
But one poor Generation, and each species  
Had been made up but of one He and She.  Vran. 
You do do well, my Lord, when you intent  
Unlawful loves, to instance not in men  
But beasts.— But let me ever be  
Of that affrighted number who follow virtue,  
Rather than your examples with four feet.  Pyrrh. 
Mistaken Sophistress! How much more powerfully  
Dost thou dispute with those soft eyes of thine,  
Then with thy pretty tongue? Let these then be  
Rather employed to see thy error, than  
This to defend it. Know, that instances  
In beasts, do hold in men, when they relate  
Unto that Nature which is truly common  
Unto them both: And such is this of Love.  
They cannot Say their passions like to us,  
But they can Mean them with as strong an Ardour.  
And though they do not sing their loves in verse,  
Like me; they do attain them less in prose.  
And is this wickedness! Sure vice is known  
By its own fruit; and what do these bring forth?  
Thy sheep Urania, gave thee gentle Lambs,  
The warmer Goat brought forth a pretty Kid  
That thou wouldst play withal: And wilt thou blame  
That play which did produce thy playfellow?  
No, no, Urania! Love, like men, was free,  
Ere power and laws had taught them both the use  
Of chains and fetters (Nature ne'er confined  
Her noblest creature to the narrowest prison,  
Nor gave him inclinations to torment him)  
And therefore when thy Prince, who only doth  
In right abridge thy other liberties,  
Shall offer to restore thee this, thou mayst  
As freely take it as thou mightst the rest.  Vran. 
How is the King (my Lord) obliged unto you,  
To serve whom, even in sin, you can permit  
Your noblest faculties to abuse each other,  
Your Reason to abuse your Love? But say, my Lord!  
Do you do well to plant so mighty Engines  
Against so weak a Fort, that is designed  
Only a poor shelter unto Innocence?  Pyrrh. 
Well, Urania! I do perceive you still  
Make me to toil in vain: But (though 'tis hard  
And painful to deliver harder dooms  
To pretty folks) yet I must plainly tell you,  
The King's resolved to leave you but this choice,  
Either to Love, or Die; to be the Subject  
Of his Revenge or Pleasure: answer quickly,  
And answer wisely▪ For (believe't Urania's)  
If you refuse his Love, this hour's your last.  Vran. 
Sure Sir, the King's more just— She cries.  Pyrrh. 
By Heaven it's true.  Vran. 
Then Heavens more merciful— Unfortunate,  
Unfortunate Urania, what canst thou do?  Pyrrh. 
What? Thou canst grant the King's desires, and live.—  
Come, be brief. Here's one at hand will have small pity on you.  Vran. 
Oh, my Lord, pity me! pity a distressed Maid.  She knelt. Pyrrh. 
Urania, pity yourself, and pity a Prince that loves you.  
Come, do not cast away thyself: You're young,  
And (if you please) have many years to live,  
And pleasant ones. Be wise ere't be too late.  Uran. 
My Lord, what shall I do?  Pyrrh. 
Why love the King.  
Say but the word, and he'll presently be here.  Vran. 
And must I lose my Innocence?  Pyrrh. 
Come, come,  
Urania live. The King will straight be with you.  
I'll turn the Lock, and keep you sure till then.  Ex. Pyrrh. and locks the door. Vran. solemnising. 
Unhappy Maid; wretched Urania,  
Thou art undone, for evermore undone.  
Lost to the World, or Innocence. Thy choice  
Is either to be wicked, or to die;  
To lose thy Virginpurity, or life.  
Ay me, unblessed! What black, what fatal Star  
Shone sad misfortune at thy birth? How happy,  
How blessed hadst thou been still, hadst thou still dwelled  
'Mongst those who wear poor , and honour Virtue;  
Whose chaster Loves made Love a Deity.  
What will thy Mother say, when she shall hear  
Urania is not Innocent? And what  
Will thy brave Love think, who ne'er approached thee  
But with a flame as pure as that which burns  
On holy Vesta's Altars. No, no; die,  
Die, die, unfortunate, but chaste Urania.  
Never be thrifty of that blood which must  
But serve to blush that it preserved itself.  
Endymion from behind an Arbour  Endym. 
— 'Tis not safe to tarry longer. Poor Soul, her love  
To me may prove her ruin. Now I see  
She loves me, and I must improve my time.  He appears. My dear Urania! 
— Why these Tears?  Uran. 
Is this Endymion's Ghost?—  Endym. 
No, 'tis his Body, Madam.—  He embraceth her. Vran. 
Then ne'er more welcome.  
Dear my Lord! Urania is undone.  Endym. 
Not so, because Endymion lives.— Know,  
Urania's ruin never can be writ  
But in Endymion's blood.  Uran. 
Undone beyond  
Endymion's help, because to help her is  
To be a Traitor now.  Endym. 
If to assist  
My Queen be to rebel, then let me wear  
The glorious Name of Traitor.  Vran. 
Ah! my Lord,  
You know not what I mean.  Endym. 
Yes, yes, my Dear,  
Yond Arbour was my covert, whilst I heard  
Pyrrhus assault thy Noble Innocence.  Uran. 
And can you help me now, my Lord?  Endym. 
I can;  
And I will show you how I can.— But know,  
Know my Urania, I have loved thee long,  
And loved thee with a holy flame. My Hopes  
And all my Long have as virtuous been,  
As those of pious Votaries, who court  
Straitlaced Religion. All my sighs and tears  
Have been as pure, as are those Gales and Springs,  
That in Elysium do refresh the Blessed.  
And yet thou hast not pitied him that loves thee,  
Even though thy very Nature be as gentle  
As Morning dew just melting into Ayr.  
And shall I languish thus, and die? Must Love  
His Martyrs have, as well as other Gods?  
Sure no, Urania; he hath no Rewards  
Beyond this Life: How can he gratify  
His Martyrs then? The cold Inhabitants  
Of Graves do not desire, but dwell alone,  
And never Think, like aged Priests and Nuns.  
Help then thy dying Lover, and he'll change  
His Love to adoration, since thou want'st  
Nothing but pity to become Divine.  Uran. 
What shall I serve you in, my Lord?  Endym. 
Permit  
Me to enjoy the Title of thy Servant;  
And pay my fire with equal flames again.  Uran. 
My Lord, I were ungrateful if I should not.  Endym. 
Then be not so.— But (to be short) I doubt  
The King's approach; and therefore, if thou'lt promise  
This night to sleep within mine Arms (being first  
Authorised so to do by Hymen's Priest)  
I'll free thee from the Kings illicite Love.  Vran. 
My Lord, I will. But satisfy me how.  Endym. 
You must appoint the King to meet you here  
In yonder Grotto, and oblige him to  
The language, and the time of Love, soft whispers,  
And the Night; and I'll prepare  
Some other Body to supply your place.  Vran. 
Ah! Who will be so wicked as to do't?  Endym. 
Enough.—  Vran. 
Sure 'tis impossible, it cannot be.  
What Woman would consent to such an Act?  Endym. 
Ten thousand, Madam.  Vran. 
Would they? They let them not—  
I'll rather choose a thousand times to die,  
Then own a wretched life, saved at the Rate  
Of so much Wickedness.—  Endym. 
Come; be content,  
Chaste Soul, the Queen herself shall be the Person.  
I'll tell her all thy story, and I doubt not  
But she'll preserve thy Innocence, and love it.  Uran. 
Thrive, brave Endymion; thrive in all thy Loves,  
That hast for Love redeemed (and redeemed too  
Without a Sacrifice) a wretched Maid,  
Nought but whose Blood could have preserved her White.  Endym. 
My Dear, I must retire: I fear the King.  
Thou hast a Part to act, and so have I.  
Be happy, fair Urania; I am blessed  
That my employment is to do thee service.  Ex. Endym. as at a private door. Uran. sol. 
Poor, poor Endymion! in what little point  
Will all the Virtue and Religion end  
Of thy contrivances? How doth thy Fate,  
In the contempt of all that's brave and worthy,  
Play with thy Noble Actions; and endeavour  
In pride to make Virtue ridiculous?  
Poor, poor, Endymion! How could I now weep,  
If tears were able but to wash away  
The blackness of thy Fate? Now thou hast thought  
(And thought by paths white as the milky-way)  
To lead me from the Labyrinth of my Woes;  
The next thing I must think, must be to cheat  
All thy innocent expectations, which  
Are every of them Honours to myself,  
And condescensions in thy Noble Soul.  
Whilst thou in melting language tell'st my tale,  
And giv'st me so much value by thy words,  
That she who is a Queen shall condescend  
(And love that condescension too) to pity  
The Daughter of an humble Villager,  
And to become herself her Substitute:  
Whilst thou dost this (and for no recompense,  
But to bestow on me, what were more fit  
For Temples far, a pure unspotted Love)  
I must endeavour at that very time  
To frustrate all thy hopes, and only give  
My feigned promise to the King, on this  
Condition, That Endymion must be sent  
So far from Court, that he do not return  
Until to morrow Sun see us again,  
And my engagement to him be made void.  
And to effect my purpose the more surely,  
I must endeavour to persuade the King  
That he hath often courted me, and hath  
So wary eyes upon me, that I doubt  
I shall not be secure but by his absence;  
And thus I must reward the brave Endymion.  
But, I will recompense thee with my tears:  
And since I cannot sat is fie thy flame,  
I'll weep it out.— Poor, poor Endymion! She weeps.  
How must I cry to see thee like a Ball  
Tossed vainly up and down, even by those two  
Blind Gamesters, Love, and Fortune?  Enter Pyrrhus. Pyrrh. 
And why with showers allay you thus you beams?  Uran. 
You are the Messenger of Sorrow, Sir.  Pyrrh. 
In bringing the sad news a Prince attends  
Your prettiness in yonder Parlour. Come.—  He takes her by the hand. Uran. 
I'll follow, Sir.— Pray Sir go on, I'll follow.  Pyrrh. 
I'm glad you're so obedient.  Urania to herself. Urania! 
Whiter goest thou? With what face  
Canst thou say Yes unto the King's proposals,  
Although thou surely dost intent to cheat him?  
It is immodest sure.— It cannot fit  
A Maiden mouth.— I never more must pray  
With the same tongue that's able (though but feigned)  
Thus to consent.—  She stops. Pyrrh. 
Nay, I must have your hand, unless you'll follow.  
Uran. to herself. Kind Heaven assist me!— Give me strength to hear  
— What I should not, and fain'dly to assent.  
And know, Heaven, like thy Sun, my blushes shall  
This Even show, I will rise fair to morrow.  Exeunt Uran. and Pyrrhus. Enter Neander and Evadne, with a Maid following her at a distance. Neand. 
— And what d'ye think of those unactive hours  
've spent in Cells, compared to those o'th'▪ Court?  Evadne. 
I think them innocent. And if they showed  
Me fewer objects, they did show me too  
Fewer temptations, and therefore gave me  
More content, though less variety.  Neand. 
Madam, the divers objects of the Court  
Have yet been but disturbances, to scatter  
Those thoughts of yours which your dim Cell united.  
But when 've weighed each various face, each garb,  
Each brisk behaviour▪ mongst the Gallants here,  
And have contracted your now scattered beams  
To make illustrious some one persons fortune;  
You'll then take pleasure in your own effects,  
This day to frown him dead, to morrow to  
Kiss him alive again; and thus each day  
To multiply the Miracles of Love.  Evadne. 
These are the Wonders Sir, which greater Beauties  
Do in far higher Orbs: Evadne were  
Proud, as her Fortune hath designed her low,  
Should she dare think aught what in compliment  
You do attribute to her.  Neand. 
Madam, would you were but content  
To see me fall your earliest Victim here.—  Evad. 
Alas, my Lord, the Sacrifice would much  
Excel the Deity.  Neand. 
No more than little Fanes,  
The mighty powers they're dedicated to.—  
Dearest Evadne, fairest Murderess, thou  
Hast slain Neander with thy pretty eyes.  He embraceth her with his arm. Evad. 
And do you apprehend me for it, Sir?  
What Flower is yonder?  She goes from him to gather it. Neand. 
A Flower more happy (Madam) than myself,  
And like me shows you do love cruelty;  
That fain would live, and you to kill it, place  
It in your Bosom. I would fain live too,  
And you to kill me, thence will keep me out.  Evad. 
My Lord, though I am wholly ignorant  
Of all the Arts of Court, yet I can see  
You're pleased to fain much Love, to exercise  
Much Wit. Surely, I cannot think  
You can so soon be taken with my Beauty.  Neand. 
Then hear my Vows.—  Evad. 
No, good my Lord, let these  
On more deliberation be pronounced.  Neand. 
Do men deliberate whether they will be  
Happy and blessed?— Pox on this Rogue.—  Enter Geron to them. Geron. 
Nay, now I will not hang myself yet, I'll be revenged on this Lord first.— My Lord—  Neand. 
What say you Geron?  Geron. 
— How do you do, my Lord?  Neand. 
Very well, Geron. How doth your Lady?  Get. stamps and speaks to himself. 
'Tis he hath done it.—  Neand. 
Why? How now, Geron; Do you conjure? What's the matter?  Ger. to himself. 
I need not conjure. I know the Father now.  Neand. 
Why, what dost thou mutter among thy no teeth, Man?  Ger. 
My Lord, why should you ask for my Wife?  Neand. 
Because I am civil.  Ger. to himself. 
Because I am a Cuckold.  Neand. 
Pox on thee, why dost not speak out?  Ger. 
Ah—  Neand. 
Prithee Geron, what's the matter? Hast thou seen a Spirit? Or hast thou lost any money? What is it?  Evadne. 
Your servant, Sir.— I suppose by this time my Lord Endymion will have left the Queen.—  Neand. 
So very hasty Madam! You will permit me to wait on your Ladyship. Far you well, Geron.  Exeunt Neand▪ and Evadne. Ceron. sol. 
This is the Man.— 'Tis he.— Why should he ask for my Wife? Suppose I have a Wife, what's that to him? Must be needs be ask for her presently? Ah phronesia, I wish (I wish hearty) I had never seen the head of thee,— But, I could never be content till I was married, like a fool as I was,— This Rascal Neander; this Rascal that I dare nor call Rascal: This Villain that I dare not say any thing to, not because he is Valiant (for then it would not grieve me) but because he is a Lord, which he could no more help than I can that he hath made me a Cuckold. He was born to that, just as I am to this. The case is the selfsame.—  Enter Endymion. 
— Here's another Lord too.—  Endym. 
Sir Geron, how is it with you?  Geron. 
Your Servant, my lord—  Eudym. 
How doth the fair Phronesia, Sir?  Ger. to himself. 
What! Here's another.— Two Lords to make one Cuckold.—  Endym. 
What, mute, Geron! Hath any misfortune befallen your Wife?  Ger. to himself. 
Cuckold! Laughed at!—  Endym. 
Geron, you make me wonder.—  Ger. to himself still. 
You have made me a Cuckold I am sure, among you.—  Enter a Page hastily; and delivers a Letter to Endymion from the King: at which he withdraweth a little, and opens it. Geron. 
My Lord, I shall take my leave of you; you have business.  Exeunt Geron and Page. Endym. reads the Letter: which was, 
My Lord,  
We are informed (though not certainly) that there happened last night a mutiny in Our Castle of Argos. It is Our pleasure therefore, that you, immediately on sight hereof, take a convenient number of Our Light-horse, and go thither. And if you find any such thing, to use your best endeavours to appease it; and bring with you the principal Actors therein, to receive such punishment as their Crimes shall deserve.  
Basileus Rex.  Endym. 
Where, where will not Misfortune find thee out?  
Sure Fortune hath more eyes than those who say  
Shee'th none: else how could she still hit the selfsame mark?  
This night, when I supposed within thy arms,  
Thy arms, my Dear, to have scorned all the world,  
To've pitied Monarches, and looked down on Kings;  
Must I be taken from my virtuous Love,  
And change her Stars (her fairest Stars) for those  
Poor eyes that Heaven allows to look upon  
The dewy night withal?— But stay; I sin,  
I sin like all the world, who never think  
That every other part is well, if but  
One finger pain them.— I am fortunate,  
That I have gained her love, that can no more  
Change, than a Star his course, or Fate  
Her everlasting Laws: and I'm to fail  
But one night of my promise; and that night  
Is but twelve hours.— But say, Endymion, how  
Canst thou live twelve hours from Urania's eyes?—  
But I must haste, and bid my Fair adieu.—  
— And yet I will not neither; the first kiss  
I beg from those dear lips, shall never be  
A parting one.— And must I not then wish  
For a Good-night, because I must have none?  
Sure, I must see her.— But say, Endymion, say  
She should look sad, or sigh when thou departest?  
How dost thou think, at the same time, to quell  
Two insurrections, that at Argos, and  
This sadder one in thy own breast?— My Dear,  
I must not see thee. I must only make  
Some little paper happier than myself,  
And write thee, why Endymion is unblessed.  Exit Endym. Enter King and Pyrrhus. King. 
Well Pyrrhus, now our business is done. This night Urania (after all her pretty blushes, and loathness to say Yes) is mine.  Pyr. 
She is, an't please your Majesty, and I am very glad of it, knowing your Majesty's passion; for the truth is, I did very much doubt so much innocence would never have been overcome.  King. 
She was loath indeed.— But Pyrrhus, prithee see Endymion loiter not. She was very passionate in that particular; and all her promise is void, if he be in town by six of the clock this Even: and it is near so much already, I think.  Pyr. 
I shall hasten him, if he be not already gone.  King. 
And then you must see yond Grotto prepared.  Pyr. 
It shall be fitted for the Scene of Love.  King. 
The all I have to do, is to make some fair pretence to the Queen for my absence this night— Look where she comes.  Enter Queen alone. Pyrrh. 
I shall make haste to wait on your commands.  Ex. Pyrrh. King. 
How doth my Queen? what, all alone?  Queen. 
Not now  
When I have found my Lord, who is to me  
All company.—  King. 
Ah! thou hast found him none.  
Thou'st found him now disordered.— I'm not well.  Qu. 
Alas, I doubt 've taken cold.  King. 
I have;  
But hope that this night's rest will make me well.  Qu. 
Sure Sir, you don't do well to tarry here.  King. 
I do not, Madam; I'll retire. Good night. Kisseth her.  Qu. 
Nay, give me leave Sir to attend you.—  King. 
No,  
I will not draw you from the entertainment  
This pleasant evening will afford you here.  Qu. 
Alas, my Prince, you injure now your Queen,  
To think that evening which gives Pain to you,  
Can give her Pleasure.  King. 
My dear, I am not sick;  
I only am a little indisposed;  
I'll beg thy pardon to retire this night:  
But pray sup you, and take no farther care,  
Till at your own apartment I wait on you  
To morrow morning.  Queen. 
Your will is still my Law.  King. 
Once more good-night.— Ex. King.  Queen sol. 
Poor Prince! poor Prince! How little dost thou think  
How soon we two shall meet again: and she  
Thou so much fliest, shall prove the very thing  
For which thou fliest her? How ridiculous  
Just Heaven doth make the ways of men, when they  
Forsake the ways of Virtue?— This brave Prince,  
At whose victorious Armies Greece now trembles,  
When he contrives inglorious actions, shall  
At the same time be pitied by his servants;  
And a poor Girl shall upbraid him, in  
Contriving to preserve him virtuous.  
How do men ravel back to childhood, when  
They cease to be thy Children, sacred Virtue;  
And need the care of every little person,  
That what they call for may not do them harm!  
Poor Prince! I pity thee.— And oh that Heaven  She kneels. 
May do so too! And though the setting Sun  
Bode nought but darkness to the world, yet may  
Some charitable Star vouchsafe one beam  
To his benighted breast; lest wicked men  
Upbraid your wisdom, that give Crowns and Sceptres  
To those poor spirits, who can softly creep  
At cowardly midnight to their beds of sin. She riseth.  
How happy should I be this tedious night  
In yonder Grotto, to expect in vain?  
And by my penance there to expiate  
Th' intended crime of my repenting Prince?—  
But I must haste— Blessed Heaven, have pity on  
The folly of my poor deluded Lord.  Exit. Queen. Enter Cleantha. She takes two or three turns in the Garden, and then breaks into these words. 
Unfortunate Cleantha.—  She walks a turn or two more. 
— Too fortunate  
In that which Fools call Happiness.—  She walks a little. 
— Fate, Fate,  
Why dost thou thus abuse the world, to make  
Some high, some low, yet every one alike  
Unhappy?— whate'er our stations be,  
We meet in this sad Centre, Misery.—  
Yet, lest by knowing this, we should rebel,  
And every Generous soul turn Destiny  
Unto itself, (scorning thy tyranny,  
And rather choosing not to be at all,  
Then be thy sport) thou hast contrived things so,  
That every person thinks others more happy,  
And that no breast knows Misery like theirs.  
But those whom thou dost destiny to such Plagues,  
As would break forth through private windows, thou  
Dost place in mighty Palaces, and with  
External splendour hidest their inward Griefs  
From common eyes, and makest them (silly souls)  
Admire, what, did they understand, they'd pity.  
How many that behold Cleantha walk,  
Attended by the proudest sparks of Greece,  
And richer clad than Tulips in the Spring,  
Do think her every minute happier far  
Than Cowards condemned are, when their pardon's read;  
And every Lady in Arcadia  
But wretched, when compared to her bright Fortune.  
Whilst poor Cleantha at that very minute  
Envies some Village-Maid that Russet wears  
(The Livery of those sheep she doth attend)  
But freely favours the poor Swain she loves,  
And sleeps at night.— Cleantha's oft admired,  
And her great titles reckoned up, whilst she  
Doth in her closet weep she is not less.—  
Heaven! Heaven! where was thy Mercy then,  
When thou mad'st Life so great a pain, and Death  
A Sin?— Didst thou create great souls but to  
Affront them with thy greater power?— But stay,  
Profane Cleantha, stay; and be not more  
Unfortunate, by being wicked too.—  
Endymion is all virtue, and he would  
Hate a profane Cleantha.— Poor Endymion,  
How little darest thou think my thoughts, or I  
Dare say them to thee?— Ah wretched, wretched Princess,  
Whom Fate hath made greater than Happiness!—  
What can I hope for? should Endymion speak,  
I then should hate him for his confidence;  
A Crime, of which he never can be guilty.—  
When once he bled for me (and conquered too)  
And I on purpose chid my woman, that  
She was unhandy, only 'cause my hand  
Ambitious was to wipe his wounds, and give  
Him Balsam for the better Balsam of  
His blood; poor Lord, me thought he seemed to wish  
The earth had been created lower, that  
He might have lower bowed, to give me thanks;  
And was so far from daring to presume,  
That he did seem to make the distance more  
Betwixt himself and me, by placing me  
Yet higher, for my so great charity.  
Nay, should he speak, in speaking he would forfeit  
The very thing I love him for, that rest  
He finds in th' Elysium of his thoughts;  
And those true satisfactions which he takes,  
In being all the world unto himself.  
But since my Love is virtuous as its Object▪  
Why should I stick to tell it all the world?  
Nay, why should I not rather glory in it?  
To blush to say I love Endymion, were  
To be ashamed to love Religion, 'cause  
Her Priests are poor.— If Fortune ' th' set him low,  
Fools that are blind, like her, may do so too.  
But let Cleantha's pleasure be to see  
Virtue affronting the Fool's Deity.  
Direct me, my good Stars; and let me do  
Honour to him, who so much honours you.  
And if I needs so hard a Fate must prove,  
As fall at last a Sacrifice to Love;  
'Twill be my Glory, when it shall be said,  
Cleantha for the brave Endymion died.  Exit. Cleantha. 
Finis Act. 2.   

ACTUS 3.  Enter King. He takes a turn or two, and then to him Pyrrhus. King. 
GOod morrow to you, my Lord.  Pyrrh. 
A good day to your Majesty. A day as pleasant as your night hath been.  King. 
Ah!— I wish it indeed.  Pyrrh. 
I hope your Majesty hath been well enough diverted this night.  King.— 
Yes, my Lord— though not as you suppose.—  
I've been diverted from those wild desires  
That made me first unking myself, and then  
Unlord my Confident. But I've asked pardon  
Of Heaven and my own Majesty; and now  
I beg it too from thee, my loyal Pyrrhus:  
Forgive me that I have profaned thy Faith  
By such Commands, that thou art bound to ask  
Blessed Heaven forgiveness for thy Loyalty.  Pyrrh. 
Your Majesty (I hope) will give me leave  
To wonder at this change, and understand it,  
When you shall please to think me fit to do so.  King. 
Pyrrhus, I'll tell thee all.— When now the night  
Grew black enough to hid a skulking action;  
And Heaven had never an eye unshut to fee  
Her Representative on earth creep 'mongst  
Those poor defensless worms, whom Nature ' th' left  
An humble prey to every thing; and no  
Asylum but the Dark: I softly stole  
To yonder Grotto through the upper walks,  
And there found my Urania,— But I found her,  
I found her, Pyrrhus, not a Mistress, but  
A Goddess rather, which made me now to be  
No more her Lover, but Idolater.  
She only whispered to me, as she promised,  
Yet never heard I any voice so loud:  
And though her words were gentler far than those  
That holy Priests do speak to dying Saints,  
Yet never Thunder signified so much.  
And what did more impress what e'er she said,  
Methought her whispers were my injured Queens,  
Her manner just like hers.— And when she urged  
(Among a thousand things) the injury  
I did the faithfullest Princess in the world,  
Who now supposed me sick, and was perchance  
Upon her knees, offering up holy vows  
For him who mocked both heaven and her, and was  
Now breaking of that vow he made her, when  
With sacrifice he called the Gods to witness;  
When she urged this, and wept, and spoke so like  
My poor deluded Queen, Pyrrhus, I trembled,  
Almost persuaded that it was her Angel  
Spoke through Urania's lips; who for her sake  
Took care of me, as something she much loved.  
It would be long to tell thee all she said,  
How oft she fighed, how bitterly she wept:  
But the effect. Urania still is chaste,  
And with her chaster lips hath promised to  
Invoke blessed Heaven for my intended sin.  Pyrrh. 
A happy night. Indeed, I ne'er took pleasure  
To've served your Majesty in this employment,  
Until this instant.  King. 
But how dost think, my Pyrrhus,  
I shall reward Urania for this action?  Pyrrh. 
Ten thousand ways.—  King. 
No, no, I am unhappy;  
I must undo the fair, the chaste Urania.  Pyrrh. 
And me with wonder too.—  King. 
Thou knowst she told me  
Endymion was her servant (an high Fortune  
For one so mean, and a rare one too,  
Who can love Virtue where he sees her poor.)  
And I shall be constrained to banish him  
To some remoter Isle, unless he'll be  
(Which I much doubt) content to marry her  
Within few days. Pyr. This is all news. King. It is.  
But Pyrrhus, thou art worthy of my secrets.  
And therefore know, I've lately learned, Cleantha  
Loves nothing but Endymion. Though she have  
(Thou known) a Prince that courts her, high in Birth  
And Fortune too: one worthy our alliance,  
Yet she slights all addresses, and last night  
I was informed, ' was only for the sake  
Of this mean Lord; which should the Prince but know,  
He sure would scorn her for his Rival's sake.  
The certainty I hope to know this day,  
From our good Priest, whom I've employed to sound her,  
And learn her resolutions, whence I shall  
Discern Endymion's fate. Pyr. An't please your Majesty,  
But doth Endymion know Cleantha loves him?  King. 
I'm told he doth not. All that can be gathered,  
Is but from some few words she was by chance  
Overheard to say unto herself, too big  
For her own breasts confinement, and too secret  
(It seems) for any others ear.— But hark, what's yonder?  Trumpets without. Pyr. 
I do believe Endymion is returned.  King 
It's likely. Let us in, and have his answer.  Ex. King, Pyrrhus. Enter Cleantha sol. into the Garden. She walks a while, often fetching very deep sighs; at last saith, 
— When every thing is green,  
Must poor Cleantha only whither, and never  
Know a Spring?— Was I made only high  
Like Rhodope, and Haemus, or the Alps,  
To dwell with everlasting winter, to wear Snow,  
When every valley Roses wears?— Cleantha,  
Thou must die. Then thou mayst also be  
Happy as other folks. The Grave looks wistly,  
Like thy Fortune. Then every body's face  
Is pale as thine. There, there thou wilt not see  
Poor Villagers more blessed in love then thee.  
And there thou wilt be able make appear,  
Cleantha and Endymion equal are.—  
Then, possibly, some of Cleantha's earth  
May prove a little flower, and look fresher,  
Then when it part of a great Princess was,  
And show the erring world—  Enter the Priest. 
— Heaven! what shall I say  
To this good man now?—  Pri. 
Good morrow to your Highness.  
Heaven send you a good day.—  Cleantha. 
I shall not doubt it,  
After so good a Prayer.— Good morrow, Sir.—  Priest. 
Your Highness all alone? 'Twere too great boldness  
To ask what little pensiveness invited  
You to so much retirement, whilst the day  
Is yet so young; and you as young as it?—  Clean. 
I cannot wonder, Sir, at what you ask,  
When I consider in what vanities  
I usually have spent my mornings, more  
Examining my Face then Self.— But late She sighs.  
Repentance is a little commendable.—  Pri. 
But yours, Madam, is not so. Your morning yet  
Is younger than this days, and you can still  
Pay First-fruits unto Virtue.— But, fair Princess,  
(Pardon the freedom of your Priest) we often  
Mistake our Melancholy for Repentance;  
And think that sadness our souls health, which is  
Indeed, but the disease of our weak bodies.  Queen. 
It's likely, Sir, and likely that weak sort  
That I am of, may thus oft be deluded.  
But Heaven (I hope) hath pity for that weakness  
It made not stronger.—  Priest. 
Madam, be pleased to know,  
The only reason why I urge this, is,  
The only reason why I've thus intruded  
Into your Highness' Retirements now.  
This is not, Madam, the first time I've seen  
Your Highness walk alone, and shun those places  
Which company did seem to make unhappy:  
And often have I too observed 've been  
Alone i'th' middle of a multitude:  
Which sort of temper being no wise proper  
To your more sprightly age, and 〈◊〉, I  
(As one obliged by Heaven, to serve you, and  
Authori'zd too to speak) presumed to watch  
A fitting opportunity, to pray  
Your Highness to unfold, whether its cause  
No wise concerns my Function; or if I  
Might serve you with my Counsel, or my Prayers.  Clean. 
Sir, You have ever been a Father to me,  
And, possibly, your great respect, a little  
May injure your great judgement, and present  
Things you are pleased to fear, as though they were.  Priest. 
No, Madam, pardon me, I'm not mistaken;  
But much more doubt, what you with so much art  
Desire to hid. Sure, 'tis no common thing  
You can think worth the covering with such language.  Cleanth. 
Indeed, I am no wise sad, Sir; you but doubt it.  Priest. 
Pardon me, Madam, if I dare to tell you,  
You do not well to say so. You are troubled.—  
Madam, you are in love.— You ought not to  
Deny it, 'cause 'tis truth.—  Cleanth. 
Nor ought I to  
Confess it, 'cause it is no sin.—  Priest. 
If it be not,  
Indeed you are not bound to't. But if you  
Love one beneath your birth and Fortune, Madam,  
That is a sin.  Cleanth. 
It may be so; but I  
Am no wise guilty of it, Sir.  Pri. 
Madam,  
Endymion is so.—  Cleanth. 
And can I help it; Sir?  
So are a thousand more, it may be.—  Pri. 
Madam,  
'Twere to affront your Highness, should I longer  
Delude you by my seeming ignorance  
Of what (would Heaven) had ne'er been known to you,  
Nor me: Madam, you love that poor  
Mean Lord Endymion.— 'Tis for him that you  
Look pale, and sigh, and walk alone, and die  
To all that's glorious, and worthy you  
So high a Princess.— 'Tis for him you slight  
The Prince of Macedon, and disoblige  
The King your Uncle.— 'Tis for him you are  
No more Cleantha, no more that noble Princess,  
That like a Deity reflected on  
Your own perfection (that Supreme Estate  
Nature and Fortune thought you worthy of)  
And did esteem yourself at the same rate  
Heaven and the Gods had valued you.— But, Madam,  
'Tis not too late yet to recant all this;  
And there is oft more glory in repenting  
Us of some errors, than never to have erred;  
Because we find, there are more folks have Judgement  
Then Ingenuity.— Madam, let me be  
The happy Messenger of this good news.  Cleanth. 
Poor Cleantha! poor Endymion!  Aside. Pri. 
Madam—  Cleanth. 
Enough Sir.— I am not ashamed  
My Priest should know, what my Prayers are not  
Ashamed to own.  Pri. 
Then you love Endymion.—  
Confess it, if you're not ashamed.—  Cleanth. 
It may be  
It suits not with my Modesty to say so:  
Nor yet with my Religion to deny it.—  
I am sorry you are angry, Sir.—  Pri. 
Ah! dear Princess,  
I am not angry; that would not become me.  
I am afflicted, Madam, I am afflicted,  
At what much less becomes your Highness.— Can  
You love so mean a Lord, and own it too,  
And still think yourself innocent, and talk  
Of Modesty, and say Love is no sin?  
And pray—  Cleanth. 
Nay, Sir, I must be bold, when you  
Instruct me to be so, and interrupt  
That Language, Sir, you must not let me hear.  
Know, I may love Endymion, and yet talk  
Of Innocence and Modesty, much more than you  
May of Civility, when you presume, Sir,  
To tell me, to my face, the contrary.—  
You'll pardon me, I hope, Sir.— I would fain  
Remember you, yet not forget myself.—  Pri. 
Pardom my passion, Madam.— 'Tis for you.  Clean. 
'Tis not for me to hear.— That Modesty  
You dared to doubt (heaven, have I heard it!)— Know,  She cries. 
Is much too tender to be touched, Sir, with  
Hard fingers yet.—  Priest. 
Dear Princess pardon me.  Clean. 
Had you not been my Priest, I could have thought  
So bold a passion: but for you, who teach,  
That all the Wealth and Grandeur in the world  
Doth hold no more proportion with true Virtue,  
Then this world with Elysium, her reward:  
For you who teach this, and have taught it me,  
(And if you teach it not, your Function's nothing)  
For you (I say) to be so much in passion,  
I love Endymion, who is poor, but hath  
More virtue than a thousand Princes: this  
Is wonder, Sir: But for your office sake,  
I'll think you speak not your own words; and so  
I still may reverence you; as you well know  
I still have done.—  Priest. 
Madam, have I your pardon?  Cleanth. 
You have it, Sir.—  Priest. 
Then give me leave to be  
Grateful, and serve you. Humbly to discuss  
This Love you're pleased to own, without the least  
Of prejudice, or favour. Thus you may  
Best judge of this great action of your life.  Cleanth. 
You have it, Sir; and may oblige me with it.  Priest. 
Then know, fair—  Clean. 
But when you name Endymion.—  Priest. 
— Your pleasure, Madam.—  Clean. 
— Nothing.— I do attend you.  Priest. 
Nay, Madam, pray be free.—  Clean. 
It's nothing, Sir.—  
Endymion needs not my Apology.—  Priest. 
Madam, you do acknowledge that you love  
The Lord Endymion?—  Cleanth. 
Sir, I do to you,  
But never have to him; and it may be  
I never will.  Priest. 
(Your Highness doth oblige me)—  
And you do seem to give this reason, 'cause  
He owns more virtue than a thousand Princes;  
Which, sure, is probable. Yet, Madam, know,  
That there are Princes too are virtuous  
As he: and in particular, the high-  
Born Prince of Macedon, who courts your Highness,  
Doth yield to none, but hath as good a title  
To Virtue as his Crown.— Now, though you ought  
To prefer Virtue before Wealth, or Greatness,  
As what is of more value than them both;  
Yet these are both fair Pedals unto Virtue;  
They much advance her stature, and do make  
Her more conspicuous to the world, and so  
Much more adored; and therefore always are  
To be preferred, when to be had with her.  
Low Violets may smell among the grass  
And their own leaves, whilst that the nobler Rose  
Adorns the Garden, and is no less sweet.—  Clean. 
Sweeter then both in your comparison.—  
But, Sir, if it be possible t'advance  
This humble Violet almost unto  
The stature of the Rose, to whom great Nature  
Hath gi'n a higher stem, though not more sweetness;  
Pray, would it not be more of charity  
And judgement, then t' endeavour with more hazard,  
To add some leaves unto that Rose, whom Nature  
Already had made fair enough?—  Pri. 
Madam,  
I well do understand, your Highness owns  
Greatness enough to make another Great:  
And that the Prince of Macedon appears  
Already fair enough to all the world:  
Yet surely, Madam, though your structure be  
Noble and high, if you will build it on  
A low foundation, it can ne'er appear  
So high, as if your Basis higher were.  
You may appear yourself; but when you do  
Join with an equal, you appear him too.  Clean. 
Pardon me, Sir, I only him appear.  
I lose my name, and all I was before.  
I am not greater (when his wife) because  
I was a Princess; for should he but wed  
The meanest Lass in all Arcadia, he  
In doing so, would make her full as great  
As I should be. Ambitious Rivers, whilst  
They needs will strive to join with greater Floods,  
Do add indeed to them, but lose themselves,  
Whilst those that court some smaller Brook at once,  
Increase their Waters, and preserve their Names.  Pri. 
Madam, you will do well to heed, that whilst  
You seek t'increase your Waters, you do not  
Increase your Years too. Mighty Floods, you know  
Glide smooth, yet bear down all; whilst little Brooks  
Murmur at Pebbles in their way, and have  
Their courses oft obstructed. And, Madam, what,  
What is a Name to the unfortunate?  
What is a Name to those, whose Names must live  
But in their Epitaph? if you do wed  
A Prince, the fair Cleantha will adorn  
His Chronicle, and that in recompense,  
Will make that Name immortal as her Merit.  
But if you will in common Channels run,  
Poor neighbour-Towns may know your Name, but Maps  
Will heed you not. And then the brave Cleantha  
Will set with her own face; and th' injuted world  
Shall lose her best Example, to those Ages  
Are yet to come; and thus Cleantha will  
Undo herself, and all Posterity.  Cleanth. 
You almost do undo my reason with  
Your language, Sir.— But you well know, Sir, should  
I by each action of my life endeavour  
To be forgotten in all Chronicle,  
And leave it in my Will, to have my Name  
Ne'er mentioned more; this very Will of mine  
Would live to all Posterity. Comets  
As soon may unobserved pass among  
Astrologers, as any Princess can  
Among Historians.— But, alas, Sir, what,  
What's my Remembrance, when I am dead,  
To be compared to the Contents of Life?  
Shall I be wretched all the day, because  
I'd have folks talk of me when I'm asleep?  
What is it, if it be hereafter said,  
Cleantha was the Queen of Macedon,  
When poor Cleantha's but a little earth?  
If I love nothing but Endymion,  
Nothing but him can make me happy, Sir;  
And if I love nothing in him but his Virtue,  
And his brave Soul, and can be well content  
To lose a Crown, and Title of a Queen,  
To sinned those better treasures, though I stoop  
To take them up, it will be more glory, and  
Eternity unto my Name, then if  
(Like petty Country folks) I do dispense  
With Love for my convenience, and wed  
What I may chance to like in time, with help  
Of some good Counsel, and Necessity.—  
This, Sir, will be an act, will give my Name  
An honourable mention in the mouths  
Of Priests, and holy folks, as oft as they  
Instruct men, that the Gods sometimes reward  
Virtue in this world, or that Virtue is  
To be preferred before a Crown or Sceptre.  
For than it will be said, Endymion's virtue  
Won him a Princess, and Cleantha did  
Esteem a brave Endymion much above  
A Prince and Diadem. And thus my Greatness,  
At once, shall make itself more great, and serve  
T' embalm the bravest person in the world,  
And make him, like myself, immortal too.  
For whist men writ Cleantha's Story, since  
(Like her) it will be nought without Endymion,  
The brave Endymion must be mentioned too,  
(That else perchance might have been numbered ' monstg  
Those precious things, whose loss the world bewails.)  
And thus I shall oblige Posterity,  
More in Endymion then myself: and shall  
Give (like a Goddess) immortality,  
To what was mortal in itself, and had  
Died but for me.— This, Sir, I only say,  
To answer your objection; and I name  
Endymion, 'cause you named him, as I did  
The Rose and Violet, when you were pleased  
To instance in them.—  Priest. 
Heaven! would it were but so.—  
Madam, as error ne'er can be more happy  
Then in your mouth, nor more secure, who give  
It so much beauty with your language, and  
Strength with your Wit; so, can it never be  
More dangerous.— And therefore, pardon me,  
If I no longer do occasion you  
To show th' omnipotency of your wit,  
In (almost) making Error, Truth; and tell you  
What's surely true.— Madam, I have not thus  
Presumed to interrupt this your Retirement  
I found you in, on any confidence  
Merely my own, but only in obedience  
Unto the King's Command, your Royal Uncle,  
Who understands (however you little think it)  
You love Endymion (Heaven would not conceal  
So great an ill from him who may prevent it)  
And hath commanded me to use my best  
Endeavours to dissuade you from an action  
So much beneath yourself, and contrary  
To his desires, who with so dear affection  
Hath ever treated you: And now refused  
To speak to you himself, lest that his passion  
Should move too violent 'gainst what he hates,  
And disoblige what he so dearly loves.  
To this so true and tender a regard▪  
Of this your Royal Uncle, Madam, what  
Regardful answer will you now command  
Me to return him?—  She rests a while. Clean. 
Sir, I cannot tell  
What way the King should know what you affirm,  
Since I ne'er said so much to any person.—  
I dare not think you would betray me, Sir.—  
That were profane.— But if you must indeed,  
Return some answer to the King, be pleased  
To tell him, As I ever yet have been  
Obedient to him, as my Uncle, so  
I still do think myself obliged to be;  
Supposing (as he hath not hitherto)  
His Goodness never will command, cut what  
Shall be within my power t' obey him in.  Pri. 
Madam, this answer hath much Latitude.—  Clean. 
It promiseth, Sir, all I can.— You will not  
Have me to promise more, I hope.—  Priest. 
But is it  
In your Highness' power to love the Prince  
Of Macedon, and not to love Endymion?  Clean. 
I think, Sir, Love's as much within my power,  
As't is in any other bodies.—  Pri. 
Madam,  
I must entreat your Highness for an answer,  
A little more direct unto the question.—  
You'll pardon me, I hope; I'm to deliver  
It to a King.—  Clean. 
And to receive it from  
A Princess, and a Maid.—  Pri. 
Madam, I shall  
Be loath to tell the King you love the Lord  
Endymion.— And, may be, you'll be sorry  
To see him banished to some distant Isle,  
There to bewail his own perfections, that  
He ' th' pleased too much; and wish a thousand times  
You had not thus undone him with your love.—  
Injure not, Madam, thus a Lord, who else  
May number many happy days, and live  
An honour to his Country, and grow old,  
And die among his Kindred, and his Friends.—  Clean. 
Sir, this would be strange justice, that my Love  
Should be Endymion's Crime.—  Priest. 
'Twill prove so, Madam.  Clean. 
He may be sufferer, but not criminal.  
And Heaven will do justice, when men do not.—  She being ready to cry, fetcheth a sigh, and goes as towards her apartment. Pri. 
Your humble servant, Madam.—  Ex. Priest. Cleantha perceiving the Priest gone, giveth way to her tears, and remains still speaking thus to herself. Clean. 
— Wretched Cleantha! Is thy Love a Crime?  
A crime to him thou lov'st? Must it be ruin  
Unto a person, if thou but affectest him?  
Have I some plague, that I must thus destroy  
Whom I embrace? Or is my destiny  
Grown paradoxical, and proves my Love  
To be true hatred? Or doth Heaven revenge  
Other folk Pride, and my Humility?—  
Oh Death, Death, Death! thou art not half so cruel  
In thy destructions of the prosperous,  
As in not killing wretches that would die?—  She weeps. 
'Tis thou canst make Cleantha happy; and  
Preserve Endymion so.— 'Tis only thy  
Long night, and thy dark bed, that can give rest  
And sleep to sad Cleantha.—  Enter Endymion. Endym. 
— Urania  
Hath not done well to treat me thus:— Alas,  
Can I divine the King's command? or durst  
I not obey him, or refuse employment,  
In which was Honour and Obedience too,  
Unto my Prince, and Service to my Country?—  
I took no leave of her; but I have told her  
The reasons why my Love forbade it me.—  
Surely Urania's cruel.— She ought not sure  
To be thus angry, and accuse me of  
Slighting a poor deluded Shepherdess,  
When I have vowed so oft to her my love.  Clean. 
Here comes my poor Endymion.—  Endym. 
— The Princess!  
She is still gracious to me, and I were  
Best to entreat her to persuade my now  
Provoked Urania.— But she's alone.—  She steps aside a little. Clean. 
— Good morrow, my lord—  Endym. 
Your pardon, Madam, if unthought of, I  
Have rushed on your Retirement.—  Cleanth. 
Your presence, Sir,  
Will better it.— Pray what's the news from Argos?—  Endym. 
Madam, the report was last night brought to Court,  
Had nothing in't of truth. I found all quiet,  
But only for th' disturbance that we made  
Ourselves, by our arrival in the night.—  Clean. 
I'm glad, my Lord, your danger was no more.—  Endym. 
You do oblige me, Madam, to undergo  
Much greater danger for your Highness, than  
This could have proved.—  Clean. 
My Lord, you have already  
Purchased the name of my preserver with  
Your blood.—  Endym. 
'Twas at too cheap a rate.—  Clean. 
Indeed  
You ne'er can be in greater danger.—  Endym. 
Madam,  
The cause I fought for, made the danger nothing.  
They might have killed me, but I could not die.  Clean. 
Your Nature's to oblige, my lord— I shall  
Be happy, when I find it in my power  
To let your Lordship know the great respect  
I have for that great Virtue which you own.  Endym. 
Madam, it hath been your Highness' pleasure still  
To honour with too great respect the little  
Merits of your mean servant, who's advanced,  
When numbered in the lowest rank of those  
That have been fortunate to do you service.  Clean. 
You add still to my debts, my Lord, yet are  
No wise injurious, since you make me rich,  
In having such a noble Creditor.—  
But pray, my Lord, tell me (as one concerned  
Mach in your Fortunes, who have so obliged me)  
(If it be fit for me to know, and you  
Conceive, that by my wishes, or endeavours,  
I any wise may stead you) what's the cause  
Your Lordship hath not worn of late that rest  
Upon your looks, which heretofore appeared  
A happy witness to the world, you were  
A world unto yourself, still, and with wise  
Content, blessed all your fortunes.  Endym. 
Ah! great Princess;  
It is for you to wear that Rest, who are  
Placed in that upper Region, where there is  
No wind. But for a little Bark i'th' midst  
Of a great Sea, subject to every wave,  
And all the winds, she never must pretend  
To this blessed state.— And for my troubles, Midam,  
Alas, their objects will appear so small  
To your great Eye, you'd think I did affront you,  
Should I dare say them to you.— Should the Lion in  
His midnight walks for prey, hear some poor worms  
Complain, for want of little drops of dew;  
What pity could that generous creature have,  
(who never wanted small things) for those poor  
Ambitions? yet these are their concernments.  
And but for want of these, they pine, and die.—  
There must be some proportion still to pity,  
Between ourselves, and what we moan: 'tis hard  
For men to be aught sensible, how Moats  
Press Flies to death. Your Highness oft in jest,  
Hath played away, more than some poor men have  
Wrought all their life for.—  Cleanth. 
My Lord, I cannot tell,  
Whether, possibly, what is your trouble, may  
Not be augmented, by my knowing it.—  
Else, shall I never think aught small, that can  
So much affect you, nor beneath my care,  
To seek to remedy that gives you pain.—  Endym. 
Great Princess, you undo me with your Honours.  
My blood turns all to blushes, as a shamed  
It had not all been shed for your sake, when  
I had the honour to pour forth a little,  
A sacrifice to your great merits.— Madam,  
I must obey your Highness' Command:  
And thank you for it too; since in your knowledge  
Of what afflicts me, is my remedy.  Cleanth. 
What will he tell me? Heaven! he knows I love him.  Aside. Endym. 
Madam, I long have loved.—  Clean. 
Whom, Sir?—  Endym. 
The fair  
Urania, who attends your Highness.—  Clean. 
Forgive, Aside.  
Forgive me, poor Endymion.—  Endym. 
And have used  
A thousand arts to get her love, and had  
Won her consent, last night, to be my wife,  
(Not doubting, Madam, but your Highness would  
Have favoured me in this adventure) but  
My sudden being sent to Argos, did  
Unhappily absolve this promise, and  
I am accused by her for slighting of  
An innocent Shepherdess, who was too forward  
In trusting me, and in believing that  
I e'er would match to one of her mean fortune.  Clean. 
Indeed, my Lord, I never could have guessed  
Your melancholy had so mean a cause.  
I could not think you would so far dishonour  
Your Family, and Name, as to have courted  
So low a person.—  Endym. 
Madam, I well do know  
Urania was a Shepherdess, and born  
In some low Cottage, 'mongst those little folks,  
Whom Honour seldom visits, and are blessed  
With nothing but their own content; but she,  
Like to a Star, mistaken of his sphere,  
Grew so conspucious 'mongst those dimmer lights,  
That brave Theander had no sooner spied her,  
But he became all wonder, and would needs  
Dismiss all but myself, to talk with her.  
I do remember yet, when first the Prince  
Asked her some little questions, how (poor soul!)  
She blushed, and looked upon her Lambs, as if  
She'd have them take her part.— Her answers were  
So innocent, as if she'd been begot  
By Prayer upon some Vestal. This sweet carriage,  
From this sweet person, caused the Prince almost,  
For one whole Summer, ever when he hunted  
About those parts, to spend his pleasantest hours  
With this fair Shepherdess; until, at last,  
He had persuaded her (for she was loath  
To leave what she well knew, for what she knew not)  
To leave her little flock, and go with him.  
At what time he esteemed her fit to be  
A Present for your Highness, an Advancement  
Few Families can boast of, since when (I know not  
Whether through your reflections on her, Madam,  
Who was celestial, though obscure before,  
She did become a Star; or whether she  
Became a greater Imitator of  
Your Highness' perfections, than all others)  
She hath so added unto Nature, Art,  
That she's grown bright to every eye; and Lords  
And greatest persons of the Court are proud  
To say Urania favours them to wear  
The Title of her Servant, as a Gem  
Too rich to be examined whence she came.—  
For her low Birth: Madam, this morning sprung  
First to our eyes, from yonder barren hill;  
And so will thousand Stars at night, though this  
And they, and she are lights from Heaven all.  
Their rise is mean, or noble, only from  
Our situation; so is hers: You cast  
Your eyes upon her, from the height of Birth  
And fortune too, and see her low; whilst that  
Some other Princess, Born as high, but not  
Beneath so happy Stars, beholds her through  
The thicker Medium of her Tears, and thinks  
Her Birth more noble, 'cause more free and less  
Subject to Fate, that doth like Thunder oft  
Overturn vast Oaks, whilst Rue and Vervin stands.  
Her Loves are free, (without which we may wear  
Fetters of gold, but they are Fetters still,  
And fit as hard as Iron, though more rich)  
Whilst many great folks are constrained to wed  
By Law and Policy, and marry those  
Old Men in Council shall think fit, who have  
So many years for got love, and hate  
Now all but wealth and Empire, 'cause themselves  
Have nothing else to boast of left—  Cleantha being not able longer to contain herself at this, goes abruptly from Endym. to a Sundial which stood not far from the walk, where she lets fall some tears (her back being towards Endymion) and says with a low voice Cleantha! 
Now thou art not fond. Endymion saith,  
Thou art unhappy.— And wilt thou say so,  
And leave me so, Endymion?— No, my passion  
Is now Authorised, and I'll speak.—  She wipes her eyes. 
My Lord,  
Would you think it were so late already?  
Endym— Indeed  Endym. Comes to the Dial. 
I could not think it had been night so late.  
But every part of Heaven hasts to see  
What it so loves, and favours, your bright self.  Cleant. 
Well, my Lord, I do not wonder much  
So great a Wit should thus maintain so great  
A Paradox; since that in nothing less  
It can find its true exercise.— But say,  
(And tell me truly) should I make't my care  
To choose a Mistress for you, fair as Urania,  
(If thousands may be judges) and as Virtuous  
(Because she truly honours Virtue) but  
Extracted from a Family would give  
Luster to yours, although it were as mean  
As hers you court now: say! would you not leave  
Urania for her, who doth seem to me  
To undervaule your respects?—  
Tell me, my Lord.  Endym. 
pauseth a while.  
Madam— should your highness condescend to choose  
A Torment for me, it were impudence  
In me to choose aught else. But that's all blessed  
Which is so like Urania.—  Cleant. 
So like to her?—  
Vrania's bodies fair, but what's that mind  
Which cannot apprehend the true contents  
Of being bound with sacred chains to him,  
Who in her Closet, and alone can be  
The whole world to her, unto whom she may  
Bring all her doubts, and tell her sorrows, and  
Repeat her joys, and have his censure on them?  
What is that mind which cannot value such  
True satisfactions more (perchance) than Crowns  
And Sceptres? which is more than e'er Urania  
Doth ever hope for sure—  Endym. 
Great Princess! could I own  
Half those perfections, I might happy be  
Without Urania.— But Urania knows  
She may find thousands of more merit than  
The poor Endymion, who durst never measure  
Himself, but by the passion he had for her.  Cleant. 
Sure, 'twas his modesty. He might have thriven  
Much better, possibly, had his ambition  
Been greater much.  
They ofttimes take more pains,  
Who look for Pins, than those who find out Stars.  Endym. 
They do, and are unfortunate. But know,  
Know highest Princess, those may search for such  
Small things you're pleased to name, who only have  
A little candle of as small a value:  
But those who seek out Stars, must be provided  
With Arts and Glasses, and such costly things  
As humble folks must be content to want.  Cleant. 
Those coyer Stars indeed, which so retire  
Their little eyes in Heavens vast Bosom, do  
(They say) require those things you mention; but  
For others of more magnitude, you need  
Only to fix your eyes, and they'll appear  
By their own light; and all you have to do,  
Is to receive those Beams they cast upon you.  Endym. 
You cannot err, great Princess— But 'tis hard  
To fix our eyes aright upon that part  
Of Heaven where those Stars inhabit, if  
We have not some directions first.—  Cleant. 
Indeed  
Those who look downwards aught to be directed  
To look above them— to the highest sphere—  
(For there the Stars— are) than I'm apt to think  
Their task will not prove hard.— She blusheth.  
My Lord, I blush  
Thus to instruct you in Astronomy.  Endym. 
No wonder, Madam, if I'm proud of what  
You blush at, and esteem this my best knowledge  
Which your unbounded wit (perhaps) to morrow  
Will with much greater reason quite deny.  Clean. 
My Lord, you think no woman's ever constant  
To what she saith, a day, but your Urania.  
But till 've tried, pray have more charity.  
You'll after have more Faith.— 'Tis late, my Lord:  
You have obliged me with your company.  Exit Clean. Endym. solemnising. 
— What meant this last discourse?— Heaven!  
blessed Heaven!  
Was't not enough to lose my dear Urania,  
Unless I also did adore the hand  
Which snatched her from me! Cleantha love Endymion!  
The great, the pure Cleantha!— All my hopes  
In rich and holy Incense stifled are.  
The world's best light hath burnt my Phoenix with  
A thousand Spices— but Fool ● it cannot be.  
Can brave Cleantha love the poor Endymion?  
Cleantha, pardon this wild thought, forgive  
The proud Endymion. Never may he know  
Thy noble breast harbour a thought so low.  Exit Endym 
Finis Act. 3.   

ACTUS 4.  Enter Neander sol. in a fury. Neand. 
I Wonder who the Devil intends I shall marry with; for marry I will, by Heaven, though the Match be made in Hell. I have been a servant, as they call it, (that is, I have sworn, and lied and spent money upon every Lady of Quality in the whole Court) yet I am still so far from having a Wife among them all, as the veriest Eunuch in the Great Turk's Seraglio is from having a Child among all those wenches. Indeed, I never was in any probability (unless in my own conceit) of winning any one but the sweet Evadne; and now, that the Queen, and her ugly Father, should cross me, should forbid her to speak to me, to see me, it is what I cannot, I will not bear, though Fate itself say I shall do it. No, I have been told, that most old folks, when the Wine of Love is worn our in them, live some years by its Vinegar, Spite; and I will do the same, I am resolved; and that old grey Priest and his Mistress, the Queen, shall be my subjects. And yet, I am not ambitious to show my valour so far, as to be hanged for it neither. This (if I can do it) shall be the sweetest part of my revenge, That I will live, and tread, and spit upon their Graves.  
— But who comes here? Geron? A Rogue for my purpose, it may be. Here is a fellow now that will be glad to be hanged, on any terms in the world, that hath been more plagued with one Wife, than I have been with all my Mistresses.— Geron, How is it?  Geron. 
How, is what, my Lord?— But let it be what it Will, I don't care three pence how it be.  Neand. 
How, Geron! why so sullen? I mean, how is it with you, Sir?  Ger. 
With me, my Lord? why just as folks say it is with the Devil: I go up and down, and carry my Hell with me.  Nean. 
What say you to a bottle of wine in my chamber, Geron, to quench it?  Ger. 
As much to that as to any thing else.  Nean. 
Come along, then.  Ex. Nean. Geron. Enter Endymion, with his hands bound, attended by a Guard of Soldiers. Endym. 
— Why, may I not see the Princess,  
For whom I'm banished, before I go?—  Offic. 
No, no, along.—  1. Sould. 
Pray Sir walk a little faster.  2. Sould. 
Prithee let the Gentleman alone. Soft and fair goeth fare; and the Gentleman considers he hath fare to go.  Endym. casts his eyes towards Cleantha 's apartment. Endym. 
Farewell then brave Cleantha; mayst thou never  
Once think Endymion suffers for thy sake.—  
And farewell, dear Urania; I will love thee  
On those hard Rocks I now must dwell upon.  Off. 
what's this muttering?— along.—  2. Soul. 
Good Gentleman; he's loath to leave the Princess, I'll warrant him.—  1. 
Here she comes.—  Enter Cleantha, two Ladies following her. Clean. 
— Unmoved,  
As if he went to meet those Triumphs which  
His worth alone deserves.—  Endym. 
— The Princess.—  
— Great Princess pardon  He takes off his hat with his two hands, as they are bound, and knelt to her. 
My glorious sufferings. Forgive me, that  
I ever saw the light, or lived a minute,  
That you are injured thus by him, whose being  
'S not worth your meanest thought.—  Clean. 
Ah, my Endymion!  She let's fall some tears. 
Affront not poor Cleantha.—  Endymion stoops down to kiss the bottom of her garment; which she perceiving, gives him her hand, which he kisseth. Clean. 
Rise, brave Endymion, 'tis my misfortune,  
Thou art too low already.—  He riseth. Endym. 
Fortune made  
Me low, to be advanced by a hand  
More worthy than her own.  Clean. 
My noble Lord,  
I have undone thee. What can I give thee now  
In recompense of Liberty, and all  
The pleasures of this life, which thou must lose  
In a sad banishment for her, who only  
Can be afflicted at thy sufferings?  Endym. 
Madam, you have enough to give, to pay  
So mean a debt (if you will call it one)  
A thousand times.—  Clean. 
Name it, and take it, dear  
Endymion, though it be my life.  Endym. 
Madam,  
Then grant me this request; use every Art,  
To make your hours as blessed, as (I shall pray)  
They may be many. And never let a thought  
E'er represent to your remembrance more  
Unfortunate Endymion.— Then shall I see,  
Among the Desolations of my Fortune,  
This cheerful Green. The brave Cleantha's happy.  
She wears a Crown, and lives adoreed; what then,  
Though poor Endymion suffer banishment,  
Though he.—  Officers. 
Sir, this is what was forbidden us to permit you.  
You must away Sir.—  Takes him by the arm. Cleanth. 
Impudent Villain, darest thou interrupt  
A person I am talking with?—  Offic. 
Yes, Madam,  
When I have the King's commands to do so.  Endym. 
— Madam,  
These persons do their duty: they are the hands  
Of Fate that pull me from you.— Sacred Princess,  
All that is bliss attend you.—  He knelt to kiss her hand. She stoops, and kisseth him. Cleant. 
My Lord, farewell.—  
Know that Cleantha loves thee, and will never  She gives him a Ring. 
Be happy till Endymion make her so.  Endym. 
I cannot doubt, but Heaven will prosper what  
'S so like itself. Blessed Princess, take my Prayers:  
Heaven thinks not fit t' intrust me with aught else.  Exit Cleant. with her attendants. Endym. 
sol. Thus Fate directs me what I now must do  
To serve my Shepherdess and Princess too.  
Endymion Falls; but to the first he dies  
A Lover, to the last a Sacrifice.  Exit Endym. and his guard. Enter Evadne, and to her Neander; at which she seems troubled, and willing to haste from him. Neand. 
My dear, and why so fast?— What, hast thou wounded  
Thy poor Neander, and now fliest him?— Your servant,  
Fairest Evadne.— Why this haste—  Evad. 
My Lord, you will  
Oblige me much if you permit it; and  
Be pleased to think there is a reason for it:  
And ask it not.  Neand. 
Must then Neander die,  
And never know his crime. Cruel Evadne,  
Give me that ease in death, to let me know  
How I've deserved it.— Speak, my dear Evadne:  
Tell me the reason.  Evad. 
My Lord, I'm but a child,  
And all my reason is obedience.  Neand. 
Obedience to that Priest!—  Evad. 
Sir, he's my Father.  Neand. 
Who more esteems a heavy-headed fool  
(Who's but afraid to swear, thinks most old women  
Are Witches, and that dead-folks walk) although  
Not worth a groat, then him who owns at once  
A generous Fortune, with a generous Soul?  Evad. 
Sir, he's my Father; and who injures him,  
Ne'er pleaseth me. His part is to command.  
Mine is obedience.—  Neand. 
Nay Evadne, pray  
Hear this before you go: 'twill be the fruit  
Of your obedience, think ne'er of marrying till  
You see three caps, a narrow band, a mouth  
Misshaped By my Truly, and the Cough—  Exit Evadne. Neand. 
I perceive you'll hear no more of your servant, Madam: adieu.— What simpleton in all Arcadia, but this Priest, would not have married his daughter to my estate, had I been the veriest coxcomb in Greece? Why, so he might but have said his daughter My Lady such a one, and talked of her Gentleman-ushers, her Pages, and her women, who would ever have stood upon it whether her husband had been a Philosopher, or (as they call it) an honest man? Poor Evadne, Thy Mother died too soon for thee; she (good woman) (I'll warrant her) would have made a hard shift to have sat at the upper end of my Lord Neander's Table, to have had occasion to make up a fine mouth, and said, My service to you Son Neander, before all the company: and then to have said to Evadne, Daughter, you don't help my Lord. She (good woman) would have thought of these things— and he shall go to her to learn more wit shortly.—  Evadne, 
I am mad; but it can't be,  
Mad as I am, but I will marry thee.  Exit Neand. Enter Cleantha and her Nurse. Cleant. 
— Nurse, where's Endymion now?  Nurse. 
He's where he wants good company, I believe, poor Lord.  Cleant. 
Nurse, say not so, because his steadfast mind  
Still leaves him with himself, and thus he'th still  
The best of company— My dear Endymion.  Nurse. 
Come, come Madam, your Highness must study to forget him now, and think of some other body.—  Cleanth. 
Forget him (foolish-woman!) I sooner shall  
Forget that I have eyes, forget I have  
A memory. Shall brave Endymion dwell  
In banishment for me, and I forget him?—  
Sure thou wouldst mind me of him, if I should.  Nurse. 
Well, Madam, I wish your Highness do not remember him too much. I am glad you are alive yet, for my part; now he's gone.  Cleant. 
Indeed, I speak, and do the offices  
Of life as yet. But say, say, my dear Nurse,  
Didst never see a Tree cut down in spring,  
A while put forth his buds and leaves, as if  
He'd been a live, until that sap was spent  
Which he had sucked from his life-giving Root:  
And then he withered?—  Enter King and Queen. King. 
How do you Niece?  Queen. 
We are come to visit you in the absence of your Lover.  Cleant. 
Your Majesties do always do me honour.  Queen. 
Indeed Niece, you ought to thank those who do you honour, when you forget to do it to yourself.  King. 
Cleantha, you are not too much discontented (I hope) at Endymion's departure. You are too wise to be so.  Cleant. 
Sir, whatever my troubles are, as they are my own, so I shall endeavour not to make them any other bodies.  King. 
Niece, you ought to look to the justice of the action, and so be satisfied.  Cleant. 
Indeed, there's little of mercy in it to be seen.  King. 
Well Niece, I shall not dispute the business over with you again. The Priest, the Queen, and myself have done it already at large, and you seem to be resolved not to be satisfied with any thing but your own unreasonable desires. The action I have done is just, I thought it so, and I have done it, and will continue it, and you must be patiented.  Cleant. 
Your Majesty may please to know, that I shall have so much regard to myself, as not to permit my impatience to be troublesome to other folks.  Exit King. Queen. 
Come Cleantha, prithee be not sad.  
The Prince of Macedon will make a better  
Husband than Endymion.—  Cleant. 
It may be so.  
And some one else will make a better wife  
For him then I shall do.—  Enter Phroneses. Queen. 
What news with you, Phronesia?  Phroneses. 
Only a word or two, that doth a little Import your Majesty to know.  Queen 
I'm going, wench.  
Cleantha, far you well. I hope I shall  
Next find your Melancholy less—  Exeunt Queen and Phroneses. Cleant. 
— Why should they call it melancholy, Nurse?  
Love is not melancholy; this is cold,  
But that a burning flame; this dry, and that  
All tears.— But why this wonder?— I sit strange that such  
Are ignorant of Love, who never knew it?  
Who wedded are indeed, but not because  
Their souls were equal, but their fortunes; not  
That they themselves, but Parents did agree.—  
And think they that Cleantha'll do so too?  
Is she so small a needy Girl, to choose  
A servant for advantage, and to love him  
Until next our Commissioners disagree,  
And then to be indifferent again;  
And never give account of her affections  
Till she've enquired first how the Chaffer goes?—  
No, my dear Nurse, I better understand  
My present freedom, that true Monarchy  
I'm to myself, then on indifferent Parley  
To yield myself a cowardly Captive.— If  
I fall, it shall be by storm; nor will I be  
Conquered by aught less than a Deity.  
To add unto thy triumphs, Love, 's no more  
Than that which Goddesses have done before.  
And this Cleantha may not blush to do,  
Although a Princess, and a Virgin too.  Nurse. 
Madam, you are too wise; why should you not contented be to do like all the world?  Cleant. 
I ne'er examine, Nurse, what most folks do,  
But what all should do, and those few do practise,  
Whose real Virtue never blushed to be  
Brought to the test of reason. I can pardon  
Poor silly Lasses that believe their Granam's,  
Who tell them 'tis a sin to intermix  
With those beneath them, (as though the rich and poor  
Were different species) whose Sunburnt modesties  
Can well dispense with th'loss of that pure state  
Nature had placed them in, for the advantage  
Of some convenient neighbourhood; but still  
I've no forgiveness for myself, should I  
(Grown now a woman, and endueed with reason)  
Play with those Puppet-Vertues old folks give me,  
And (understanding my own whiteness) ere  
Dissolve that Snow but by a flame as pure.  Nurse. 
Well, Madam, I cannot dispute it with you. But sure I am, I should ne'er have got a husband on these Philosophical terms.— It is well for me I was not so wise at your age [Cleant. smiles.] Why Madam, when I had loved any one (as that was no very hard matter for me to do when I was young) it had been ten to one if he had loved me again; and there I had been gone: Or if he had loved me, than his friends would not have liked it; and there I had been gone. Or if his friends had, then mine would have found some fault or other; and still I had been gone.— Madam, there is so much to do, to bring two young folks together that have any thing in the world, that should they refuse marriage on any terms, old maidens would be as plenty as Crabs are in America.  Cleant. 
Prithee Nurse no more.—  Nurse. 
Nay, I was resolved to put you out of your dump: you would have cried presently, if I would have let you.— But, have you gi'en Urania leave to be wanting?  Cleant. 
Yes, she asked me to be a day or two with her Mother somewhere here in Town.  Nurse. 
She looked but ill when she went: I thought she had gone on some discontent.  Cleant. 
I know none. She went hence two days since, I think.  Nurse. 
Then she should be returned again.  Cleant. 
She may take her own time— Come, shall we go, Nurse?—  Exeunt Cleantha, and Nurse. Enter the King and Pyrrhus. King. 
— Is't possible?— It cannot be—  
My Queen,— My Queen an Adulteress! and with  
My Priest too! Can Heaven not punish me  
But by its representative? In what can men  
Confide, if sanctity and holy vows  
Are nothing?—  Pyrrh. 
I am amazed.— The Queen  
And Priest in woman's  (strange circumstance!)  
To meet i'th' Grotto now this night? sure 'tis  
Impossible!  King. 
It must be so, unless  
This Geron be quite mad, who's now secured,  
And is content to die for't, if I see not  
Myself, with my own eyes, all this, this night.  Pyrrh. 
Heaven bless me!  King. 
Ah my Pyrrhus, Heaven is just;  
'Tis we are wicked. In this very Grotto  
I met Urania, and forgot my Queen;  
Though then I thought her faithful, and almost  
White as Virginity itself.—  Pyrrh. 
'Tis certain.—  
But Heaven grant this metting prove no worse  
Then that did.  King. 
Blessed Heaven grant it may not.  Pyrrh. 
Your Majesty may yet prevent it.  King. 
I may  
For this time doubtless.— But I will not harbour  
That Devil Jealousy within my breast,  
For all this world can give me. I'm resolved  
To see the certainly myself. And if  
It prove untrue, my Queen shall dwell with freedom  
(As she hath ever done) in all my thoughts,  
And her accuser fall her sacrifice.  
But if she can forget her former Virtue,  
I can forget my former Love, and be  
As just as she is wicked. I can take  
As true a pleasure then to see her blood  
Drop from the fatal sword, as ere I did  
To see it blushing on her cheek when erst  
I thought her modest.— And for the Priest, whom I  
Have ever Father called, and have revered  
More in my thoughts then language, if he can  
Un-priest himself by wickedness, I can  
Be glad to see those hands in iron which  
So oft have blessed me; to behold him burn,  
Who hath burnt holy incense, and perfumed  
All my Devotions with it— I can glory  
To let him feel this Truth, That 'tis Heaven's guise,  
Not to have beasts for Priests, but Sacrifice.  Enter Queen and Priest. 
Look where they come.— Let us withdraw, it may be  
We shall hear something.—  Pyrrh. 
Sure they see you.  Priest. 
— And nothing is more common  
Than this, which is not thought a sin, because  
It seemeth rather an impulse of Nature—  King. 
Hearest thou, Pyrrhus!—  Queen. 
The King—  Priest. 
All happiness attend your Majesty.  King. 
I must contain.— How doth my Queen?  Queen. 
Always happy whilst your Majesty  
Is so.—  King. 
And what are you discoursing?  Queen. 
Nothing but good with this good person sure.  King. 
what's that you talk of? that which is not sin  
'Cause an impulse of Nature?—  Queen Smiles. 
What means your Majesty?  Priest. 
I know not how we came by chance to speak  
How little wantonness is thought a sin  
Because it seemeth an impulse of Nature;  
Whereas the Virtuous still do fix their eye  
On the Command, not the Temptation;  
And think't enough, if what Heaven gives as Law  
Be possible, although not natural.  King aside. 
'Tis well put off.— I shall never hold  
To hear this hypocrite.— Well, I must leave you.  Queen. 
I shall wait upon your Majesty  
If't may not be a trouble.  King. 
To you it may be.  Queen Smiles. 
That as your Majesty's pleasure is to make it.  Exeunt King and Queen. Priest. 
How happy 'tis to see a King and Queen  
Thus blestly live together?—  Pyrrh. 
Heaven keep them so.  Priest. 
Pray Heaven Amen.— My Lord, adieu.  Exit Priest. Pyrrhus solus. 
Did I but dare to disobey my Prince  
In any thing, or call myself to counsel  
Whether I should reveal a secret he'th  
Vouchsafed to tell me, I would certainly  
Prevent this Tragedy. My Queen and Priest  
Should still be white and holy. But what Kings  
Please to command, requires obedience, not  
Examination: when they once have judged,  
'Tis want of judgement if we dare judge too.  Enter King hastily. King. 
Pyrrhus, I had forgot one thing. Thou know'st the Prince is expected here to morrow, and I doubt he will be somewhat early too. It will be necessary his coming be retarded until this business be over, that I may know with what face to receive him, after all the glorious actions he hath done. I would not for a world his arrival should happen till the whole examination be over.—  Pyrrh. 
It will be an unhappy entertainment for his Grace.— Would your Majesty please to have me go myself?  King. 
If thou canst handsomely do it, and be early back in the morning. It is but riding all night. In the morning I shall want thee.  Pyrrh. 
I shall do it with much ease, if it be your Majesty's pleasure.  King. 
I shall leave thee to frame the excuse.  Pyrrh. 
I shall be gone immediately. Heaven grant I meet good news to morrow morning.—  Exit Pyrrhus. King. 
I doubt that—  
Thus we with them in plotting do consent;  
But they plot sin, and we plot punishment.  
And little think they in how small a time  
(Poor souls!) my justice shall overtake their crime.  
Too happy were men, if they understood  
There is no safety but in being good.  Exit King. 
Finis Act. 4.   

ACTUS 5.  Enter the King. He walks a while, then seateth himself in a Chair. King. 
— UNfortunate Basilius! How just  
Are all thy punishments proportioned, Heaven,  
To unjust men!— Yet should I dare to judge  
Those happy Essences that dwell in Light,  
And cannot err, I should be apt to say,  
My punishment exceeds my crime: my sin  
Went never farther than th' intention, and  
My sufferance is real.— But was't not  
Solely your goodness that it rested there?  
And must you not be just now, 'cause you then  
Were merciful?—  Enter Pyrrh. 
Pyrrhus, undone—  
My eyes are witnesses. I saw them both  
Enter the Grotto.—  Pyrrh. 
The Priest in woman's habit?  
King, All's true.— The Queen hath been already  
Examined by the Council.— All she saith  
Is, that she's innocent; but will not say  
The cause which moved her to an action so  
Suspected, though she die for't.— But such, Fyrrhus,  
Are never innocent, who are ashamed  
To vindicate their deeds when once their lives  
Do lie at stake for it.—  Pyrrh. 
Your Majesty was not present.  King. 
No, I leave them totally to justice, I  
Shall make the Law their judge.—  Pyrrh. 
But pray  
What saith the Priest?  King. 
I now expect to hear  
Th' examination. It hath been very long,  
Two hours at least. It's bad enough, for certain.  
But here it comes. My Lord, you have been long,  Enter Lord of the Council. 
But I expect no good, and therefore care not  
If you had longer been.—  lord 
An't please your Majesty,  
Before I can give satisfaction to  
Your expectations, I must humbly pray  
You will pleased to pardon the entreating  
Your answer to a question; on which all  
That we have done depends.—  Pyrrhus withdraws a little. King. 
What is it?  Lord. 
IT may seem too insolent— but the whole truth  
Of all th' examination wholly doth  
Depend upon it, Whether your Majesty  
(For reasons known best to your royal self)  
Did not one night command a little Lady  
Who waits upon the Princess, one Urania,  
To attend you in that Grotto where  
The Queen and Priest were seized on?  King. 
I did.  Lord. 
And she was there!  King. 
She was.  Lord. 
And was your Majesty  
Assured that it was she; or might it be  
The Queen?—  King. 
Her whispers were the Queens: Pyrrhus  
Knows what I told him.  riseth. Lord. 
Be happy then great Prince—  
Your Queen is Innocent, your Priest is holy,  
And Geron and Neader only are  
The Criminals.—  King. 
Relieve my wonder.—  lord 
Hear,  
Great Prince, in short, a plot, that seems contrived  
In Hell by Heaven, to add more whiteness to  
The Virtuous.— Here is the Priest's confession.  Unrols a paper, and reads it. The confession of the Priest, and his examination. With the confession of Phronesia, Geron and Neander. 
That Geron came yesterday in the afternoon unto the Priest; and after much seeming troubled, told him, that he had some hours before overheard a contrivance between the Queen and the Lord Neander to meet at eleven of the clock that night at the Grotto in the Garden, and that Neader was to be habited like a woman, and the Queen to be dressed like a young lass named Urania who waits on the Princess, the better to prevent suspicion, in case they should chance to be seen by any in their passage thither. This he asserted with much violence; and at last (after much discourse) the Priest was persuaded by him to attend the Queen there in the habit of a woman, instead of Neander (whose entrance he had promised to hinder, by shutting the door he was to pass at to get into the garden) and thus, when the Queen should begin to speak to him as her Lover, he should then make know himself unto her, and do his duty, in justly blaming her for so unvertuous an action.  King. 
Where ends this?  Lordreads on. 
This the Priest did. And he was not sooner entered into the grotto, but he found the Queen there before him. But the Queen seeming to expect his speaking first, and he not allowing his lips to be provided on this subject, told her plainly that she was mistaken of her Lover; that he was her Priest: and then producing a little light he had concealed in a dark Lantern, he manifested himself, and perfectly discerned the Queen, although in a disguise. The Queen thinking herself bound to give an account of her being there, and yet very loath to speak the cause of it, at last told him, that as her Confessor, she would reveal unto him, that the King had of late somewhat an immoderate respect for a young lass named Urania belonging to the Princess, and that having forced a promise from the poor maid, she did (by the Lord Endymion's means) easily persuade herself (for the securing of the King's honour) to supply the place of the said Urania, (they having agreed to have no lights, and to speak very low) which she accordingly had done for some nights before, and with such success, that the King returned rather satisfied in his reason then his Love.  King. 
All truth.—  Lord reads on. 
But having re-assumed his desires, she had again this night a summons to the same task, from a woman of hers named Phronesia; which was the occasion of her being in that place. But all this she did very passionately desire the Priest to be secret in, in that it concerned so nearly the King's honour.  King. 
And what then?  Lord. 
On this, we immediately sent for Geron, who after many threats confessed as followeth: That the Lord Neander being crossed in his love to Evadne Daughter to the Priest, by the Queen, and Priest her Father, was resolved on a revenge for them both: and by removing them out of the way, to accomplish his design of marrying Evadne. To this end, he promiseth to Geron great rewards for the contrivance of the business, woe accidentally (by his skulking up and down in every corner to watch his wife Phronesia, of whom he is very jealous) overheard the agreement between Urania and Endymion, concerning the Queens supplying her place in the Grotto. On this foundation he found'st the whole fabric of his hellish plot. For sending his wife Phronesia (who having been horribly abused by him, was willing notwithstanding to purchase his respect at any rate whatever) unto the Queen, as from Urania, only with these words in her mouth, That she humbly desired her Majesty to think of her royal promise at eleven of the clock that night, and of the King, as she had been pleased to do some few nights before: the Queen (he knew) would on this resolve to be at that time in the Grotto. After which he goes himself to the Priest, and counts to him what is before repeated in the Priest's confession. And in the last place, he had the impudence to come to your Majesty, and tell you what your Majesty was pleased to inform us of. And all this Neander and he were resolved to outface with oaths, in case it should ever come to be examined (for they supposed it probable that your Majesty would in fury have killed both the Queen and Priest on the place; which was the reason for which Geron persuaded your Majesty to have Pistols or a Stiletto with you.)  King. 
Wicked Villains!—  lord 
After this, we sent for Neander, who (amazed at his condition) confessed the whole business in the same manner. As also Phronesia, what Geron affirmed concerning her.  King. 
Blessed Heaven, how are thy ways just like thy orbs,  
Involved within each other? yet still we find  
Thy judgements are like Comets, that do blaze,  
Affright, but die withal; whilst that thy mercies  
Are like the Stars, who ofttimes are obscured,  
But still remain the same behind the clouds.  Pyrrh. 
May all your doubts and fears thus terminate.  Lord. 
Thus are you shaken, to be more confirmed.  King. 
Pyrrhus, send for Urania; she shall wear  
This day the just rewards of Virtue. I  
Will visit my brave Queen, who rather chose  
To die unjustly as a Criminal,  
Then that her Lord should justly so be termed.  
For which I will proclaim my fault, since she  
Will have the glory of concealing it.  Exit Pyrrhus. Lord. 
Heaven bless your Majesty.  King. 
My Lord.  
I'd have the Council with all speed remove  
Into the Hall, where before all the Court  
I'll bring my Queen in triumph, there to hear  
Her base accusers sentenced.  Lord. 
It shall be done  Exeunt King and Lord. Enter Evadne weeping. Evad. 
Alas Evadne! miserable Maid,  
Why didst thou ever beg to leave thy cell  
(Where thou didst never injure any one)  
To see this place, and here in some few weeks  
To do more mischief then whole Generations  
Can parallel?— Unfortunate Evadne!—  
It had been better thou hadst ever dwelled  
In those retirements, where small sins seem great,  
And great Devotions small, where folks make conscience  
To taste of any thing that ever bled;  
Then to be found there, where the blood of Queens  
And Priests are sacrifices to the Malice  
Of wicked Men.— It this to be at Court?—  
Ah poor, poor Girl! How hath thy Ignorance  
Deluded thee?— And 'twas but just that she  
Who did begin to disobey her father,  
(Until he gave her new commands) should be  
Punished by that which tempted her. It is  
Enough she's innocent, although she prove  
Unfortunate. Whatever Neander did,  
Heaven knows I never knew.— Yet I much doubt  
I'm somewhat guilty, 'cause 'twas for my sake.  Exit Evadne. Enter the Lords of the Council, and seat themselves. Enter a guard of Soldier with Neander, Geron, and Phronesia, who are placed at the Bar, as Prisoners to receive sentence. Enter Music; then the King leading his Queen crowned, and in royal apparel; after them the Priest. They place themselves on high in the middle of the Council, and the Priest somewhat lower next the King. Then this Song is sung. 

Thus from the Prison to the Throne  
Virtue comes to claim her own:  
And now appears  
Upon that Throne a Star,  
Who lately at the Bar  
Stood only Jeweled with her Tears.  
1. Great Queen  
2. Great Queen.   

Chorus  
Whoever was so well content  
To suffer, and be innocent?  
To suffer, and be innocent?   Exit Music. Enter Gentleman leading Urania. King. 
The fair Urania! Madam, I must this day  Turns to the Queen. 
Do honour to this Virgin.— And since it's  
To noble natures a more pleasing task  
To give rewards to Virtue, than punishments  
To wicked folks; I'll in the first place show  
How lovely justice looks, when we are good;  
And only sin makes her seem terrible.—  
Urania, approach us.—  Gentlem. 
Ah, great King!  
Vrania's place (I doubt) will nearer be  
The Bar then Throne—  King. 
What meanest thou?  Gent. 
See, O see  
Those cheeks that lately beauty wore, now pale  
With guilt.—  Urania weeps. King. 
Her crime.—  Gent. 
She'th lately had a child.  King. 
How know you this?—  Gent. 
By a strange piece of chance:  
For being sent in haste by my Lord Pyrrhus  
To bring herto you Majesty; by chance,  
I learned of one o'th' servants of the Princess,  
Near to what place he thought she was: and when  
I made enquiry there, at a small house  
I was acquinted at, the woman told me  
She thought her I enquired for was i' th' house;  
And ask of me many circumstances,  
She told me surely it must be the same:  
Only (she did in private add) she took her  
Not for a Virgin— (And as we thus discoursed,  
Urania chanced to pass before the door.)  
A Virgin, said I! It may be she is married;  
What, hath she had a child? she told me; Yes,  
(Though much in private) but it was very much  
Before her time; and she affirms she's married,  
As did her mother, who this morning left her.  
At this, I went in where I saw her enter:  
And after some examinations, she  
Confessed she'd had a child; but said withal,  
She had a husband too, and one who would  
Dare own her for his wife: but would not tell me  
His name or dwelling; and was very loath  
To move a foot with me, but merely by  
Constraint as ' 'ttwere.—  King. 
And is this truth, Urania?  Lord. 
Speak to the King.—  Urania. 
It's true.  King. 
And who's your Husband?—  2. Lord. 
Be not ashamed to name your Husband, Madam:  
IT will be your shame if you name none.  Urania. 
I'm not  
Ashamed to name him, but afraid.—  King. 
What is it?  
Speak—  Urania. 
I dare not disobey, and by my Lord  
I am authorized to name him when  
My Honour shall be questioned (who's more tender  
Of that then of his own)—  Lord. 
Name him.—  Urania. 
It is  
The great Theander!  Queen. 
The Prince?  King. 
What, are you married  
Unto the Prince Theander?  Knelt. Urania. 
O pardon me, great King,  
That I refused not to be taken from  
A Cottage to the bosom of a Prince,  
On such conditions as we dared to call  
The Gods to witness.  King. 
Whether she be his wife,  
Or only dares affirm it, though she were  
More to me then my hands or eyes, she should  
Die ere I sleep.— The Prince in some few hours  
Will be in Town— If what she says be false,  
This news shall be his welcone.— But if true,  
'Tis fit his coming be too late to save her.  Vran. 
Ah great Prince!— Pity the distressed, who hath  
No friend to plead her cause— All I affirm  
Is truth— Theander is my witness. See  Takes a letter out of her bosom. 
That noble name.— This I received from him  
Not three days since.—  King reads it, and gives it the Queen King. 
'Tis so. But know, Urania,  
My Crown will prove too heavy for your offspring,  
Nor may I mingle blood with those small folks  
Who dwell in Cottages. Heaven, it seems,  
Would not permit so foul a stain upon  
My Family, but hath condemned to death  
(What men in justice could not) that poor infant  
Whose only guilt was, that it must be born.—  
No, know Unania, 'tis enough you have been  
Wife to a Prince some months; 've lived enough  
In that small time: Now 'twill behoove you to  
Prepare for death; this day within three hours  
You are to lose your head, 'cause 'tis not fit  
To wear a Crown.— Marshal, take her hence.  
Let all things be prepared. I'll see her dead  
By two this afternoon.  Vran. 
Is there no mercy then?  
Heaven help the friendless.— Such must never cry  
To men for help, whose crime is poverty.  Exeunt Marshal and Urania. King. 
My Lords, had not this accident befallen me,  
I'd been too blessed. Wise Heaven doth see't as fit  
In all our joys to give us some allays,  
As in our sorrow comforts: when our Sails  
Are filled with happiest winds, than we most need  
Some heaviness to ballast us. These are  
The ways of Heaven, and we who are but earth  
Must all submit. I am afflicted for  
The poor Urania— But the Gods have sure  
(In death) rewards for those who sometimes fall  
Nor for their crimes, but through a kind of sad  
Necessity.— I'm to proceed now to  
A far more willing task, the sentencing  
Of those most wicked persons at the Bar.—  
Neander I condemn to lose his head  
Tomorrow morning, which I will have placed  
Over his Lodgings, to show, those heads who dare  
Contrive their Prince's harm, do only meet  
With such advancement. Geron I adjudge  
To die in Chains, that bunger may devour  
That little body malice yet hath left him.  
(A proper Lent for such a sinner.) And  
('Cause what Phronesia did, she did not know;  
She lied, but did not know the consequence,)  
Her I condemn only to banishment.  
And thus I hope to expiate the thoughts  
I've had of my chaste Queen, and holy Priest,  
Through those men's wickedness and teach the world,  
That such who dare be traitors to their King,  
Do on themselves the certainest ruin, bring.  Omnes. 
Heaven bless the King, and may our eyes still see  
Such Justice done on all that traitors be.  Exeunt Omnes. Enter Cleantha and her Nurse. Cleantha. 
Alas, Urania!— Now thou hast unriddled  
How thou couldst understand, and yet accept not  
Endymion's Love.— Poor Heart, I pity thee.—  
Endymion now will be more banished, when  
He hears Vraaia's dead.— Ah Urania,  
Would thou hadst a crime to die for, that  
My just Endymion might less bewail thee.  
Where can he now relieve himself? If Virtue  
Be not security, who can be safe?—  Nurse. 
Why Madam, here was now a marriage made  
According to your Highness' principles,  
Purely for Love; without consideration  
Of Portion, or equality, or friends;  
And here you see the end on't.—  Cleanth. 
Silly woman,  
Talk not so Idly.— Had they understood  
The force of Love, who thus condemned Urania,  
They ne'er had done it. And shall we disesteem  
Religion, 'cause folks often suffer for't?  
And think it is not true, because it hath Martyrs?  
Wert thou not old, thou mightst be brought to know  
There is a Gust in death when 'tis for love,  
That's more than all that's taste in all the world.  
For the true measure of true love, is death;  
And what falls short of this, was never love:  
And therefore when those Tides do meet, and strive,  
And both swell high, but love is highest still,  
This is the truest satisfaction of  
The perfectest love: For here it sees itself  
Endure the highest Test, and then it feels  
The sum of delectation, since it now  
Attains its perfect end, and shows its object  
By one intense Act, all its Verity,  
Which by a thousand, and ten thousand words  
It would have took a poor diluted pleasure  
To have imperfectly expressed.—  Aside. Nurse. 
Heaven bless me!  
I do not wonder Lovers oft run Mazed,  
That think at this strange rate. 'Twill crack my skull  
To hear it longer.— Madam, will you not see  
The execution?—  Cleant. 
Not for ten thousand World's.—  Nurse. 
It is at hand.—  Cleant. 
Poor Urania! I  
Can find no friends on earth to help thee; now  
I will address myself to Heaven for thee,  
Who only can reprieve what Great-folks have  
Condemned to Ruin, and 's the sole defence  
Through all the world, unto weak-innocence.  Exeunt Cleantha and Nurse. There appears a Scaffold covered with black, with many Spectators about it. The King is present himself to see the Execution done before the Prince his arrival, which was at hand. Enter Urania in Black, weeping; led by two of the Princess' Servants in Black. King. 
Poor heart! did I not fear the Prince's coming,  
I would not see so sad a spectacle.—/  
But I'll retire a little.— I'd have her live  
As long's she may.—  Urania casts her eyes on the Executioner. Sheriff. 
Retire till you are called to do your office.  Exit Executioner. The Two Gentlemen who attend her, conduct her to the Rails of the Scaffold; where having wiped her eyes. she speaks thus to the People. Vran. 
— Did any thing but my own innocence  
Lie now at stake (which now is all I've left  
To comfort me) I should not dare to speak  
Before so many Persons. But, (though I  
Must choir despair of Mercy in this world,  
I hope I may find Charity, and that  
Good folks will credit a poor dying Person,  
Although she bring no witness but her vows.  
All I am now condemned for, is my Birth.  
That I was meanly born (which seems indeed  
A Punishment; but not a Crime) (or if  
It were, I could not help it sure) for this  
I'm doomed to suffer, and my poverty  
Must be relieved with death.— But though I can  
Find no forgiveness in the world, I'm glad  
I find it in myself. I freely can  
Forgive who e'er have injured me, if any  
Have done so (for I cannot tell) and this  
Is some ease to me; though, perchance, the living  
Do little heed the pardons of the dead.  
I do not know I ever hurted any:  
But if I have, I hope, they will forgive me.  
Only my Lord Endymion I did once  
Delude, to save my life (would Heaven I had not.)  
But he is merciful to others, though  
He'th met with little for himself.— I do  
Confess, I'm married to the Prince: But he,  
He sure will witness for me, it was the Effect  
Of his own choice: I never did presume  
To think it, ere he told me it should be so.—  
Since when, how faithful I have been unto him,  
Witness O'Heaven, and those powers who know  
The thoughts of every one; and only dare  
To quit whom Kings condemn. And though I must  
For this now suffer death, I cannot wish  
It never had been so, because it was  
The Prince his pleasure; whom to contradict,  
Were more than death to me.— And yet I feel  
That death is bitter.— 'Tis an enemy  
Looks cruelly on those who have no friends  
To speak a little comfort to them.— 'Tis hard  
To undergo the greatest Task alone.—  
But, 'tis my Fate, and Heaven must be obeyed;  
Whose ways, although they seem obscure to men,  
Are known unto itself, whole eyes increase  
With its own dark ness still. an't were not hard,  
Now men have juded me thus unfit to live,  
Would Heaven assure me I am fit to die.—  
'Tis a long Hazard that folks run in death:  
And a short warning rather doth disturb  
Then fit those for it, whose poor judgements ne'er  
Judge well, but when they doubt themselves. Were't not  
For this, I could be well content, though young,  
To find that Quiet in a Grave, I've missed  
Among the living, and close up those eyes  
That have of late beheld so little pleasure,  
And that must see the brave Theander blamed  
For his unworthy choice, his judgement questioned,  
Which were a living death, not to be bought  
With all this world can give.— But I too long  
Detain you with complaints, whose business is  
To see me die.— Live happy, brave Theander!  
May all thy sorrows die with thy Urania,  
And all those joys live with thee, which she took  
In thy contents.— May'st thou be Happy in  
A princess, Great, as thy own Merits, Bright  
As thy own eyes, and Virtuous as  
Are all thy Thoughts; and may she honour thee  
As truly as thy poor Urania did.—  Enter Executioner. She weeps. Execut. 
Are you ready, Madam?—  Uran. 
Who is this, Sir?—  Gent. 
— Madam.—  Vran. 
Who is it, Sir?  Gent. 
Madam, It is your destiny.—  Uran. 
Is this he?—  
Sir, can you instruct me what I am to do?  
I never yet saw any body die.—  Gent. 
You must kneel down.  Vran. 
How will he strike?  Gent. 
With all the mercy that he can.—  Execut. 
Madam, when  
've ended all you have to say, be pleased  
To kneel— Your face that way— And give some sign  
When I shall strike—  Vran. 
Pray Sirs be near me  
When I do fall. I cannot tell what postures  
Death may allow of.—  Gent. 
You have our promise, Madam.  Vran. 
And when I'm dead, pray Sirs, pray Sirs, permit  
None but my Mother fit me for my Grave.  
She will be careful of me; she will pay  
Holy Devotions for me, and bedew  
With pious tears that Face she still hath loved.—  
And may blessed Heaven give comfort in her sorrows;  
And all those Stars which have been hard to me,  
Be merciful to her.— May my Misfortune  
Work on her only a more true content  
In the low Sphere she so securely moves in.—  
Blessed Heaven assist me.— Sirs, farewell. Present  
My humble Service to my noble Princess,  
With thanks for all her favours in my Life,  
And charity in death.— The gods reward  
Your mercy, Gentlemen.— Blessed Heaven assist me.  She knelt, and the Executioner bears her neck. Uran. 
Pray— expect the sign.—  Execut. 
I shall.—  Enter in haste Parthenia, Urania's Mother. Parth. 
— Stay, stay the fatal blow.  The King hearing the noise, comes forth. King. 
what's this?—  Parth. 
A miserable Mother come to save  
Her only Child.—  King. 
Executioner, do your office.— Quick.—  Parth. 
— Great King!— Dread Sovereign, hear,  
Hear a distressed Mother.— Hear for their sakes  
That at your death must hear you.—  King. 
What will you say?  Parth. 
My Child is innocent.—  King. 
Do your office, Executioner.  Parth. 
O! stay, stay.— Great King, Urania is  
A Princess born.— Her father was a King.—  King. 
What say you?—  Parth. 
Vrania's father was a King  
Great, but unfortunate.— The King of Thrace.  King. 
It is not possible.— The King of Thrace?—  
And what are you?—  Parth. 
Great King, I'm now your Subject,  
My name Parthenia, and my habitation  
A little Cottage: But I once was known  
By th' name of Cleopatra (great in Birth,  
But greater in misfortune) and was wife  
To Pyrocles the Virtuous Prince of Thrace;  
Of whom, all that remains, besides his fame,  
Is this poor child, for whom I beg your mercy,  
Not to extinguish with one stroke all that  
The strokes of Fate have left among the ruins  
Of a late glorious Family.—  King. 
Her language.  
Bespeaks her something else than her mean habit.  
'Tis strange.— But, how do you make good  
What you affirm?— How came you to Arcadia?  Parth. 
Will you Majesty be pleased in short  
To hear my story?— I shall be brief.—  King. 
Say on.  
But if you speak not truth, you shall partake  
Your daughter's Fate.—  Parth. 
Let heaven by my witness;  
And if I lie, my Executioner.  
I shall not now repeat the long misfortunes  
Of my unhappy Prince, by that dire War,  
His Rebel-Subjects raised against him, through  
His too great goodness. These reports enough  
Already have afflicted all good ears,  
And all good hearts.— I now shall only tell you,  
When he had acted out his Tragedy,  
And wicked hands had made him glorious  
By patiented suffering all that Malice could  
Inflict upon his person. They next come  
To his Relations. How they did betray,  
And butcher divers of them, all have heard,  
And I have felt.— I having now remaining  
Of all my Treasure, this poor Jewel only  
Some few Months old; and knowing how soon Kingdoms  
Seem to grow weary of th' unfortunate,  
Resolved (when all looked strange upon me) to  
Retire to some small place, such as my fortune  
Can make my own, and there to buy my Peace  
With my obscurity, and learn to be  
Contented with a little, since Heaven thought  
Much too much for me. Hither than I came,  
Invited by the Peace of this blessed Region,  
And purchased the small Cottage where I dwell,  
And learned to change my Sceptre for a sheephook  
And thus I bred this child, and never told her  
Aught of her Father's or of my Misfortunes,  
Not willing to disturb those sweet contents  
She took in being all she hoped to be,  
And all she understood: she felt no care,  
And with more pleasure governed her small flock,  
Then her unhappy Father his great Kingdom.  
And this was my content, and Heaven can witness  
How oft I've blessed those Powers it doth contain  
For this condition, and how little I  
Have envied any one. But Heaven that oft  
Affronts the highest Probabilities,  
And gratifies by ways were never thought of;  
T'encourage men to pray, but not prescribe:  
When all my greatness now was set; when I  
Had lost the Twilight too of hope, and was  
Gone far from all my Losses to forget them:  
When my great Palace, where I once commanded,  
Was shrunk into a Cottage to obey in;  
When I despaired to see Urania great,  
(The only spark that still kept in my Life)  
And only prayed she might be innocent:  
In this low Ebb, when all my hopes were grown  
More prostrate than my fortune, Heaven gins  
To dawn upon me, and instruct me, those  
Are nearer it who kneel in humble Cells,  
Then such as stand on tip toe on high Towers.  
For now Theander makes Urania more  
A Princess then a Kingdom could, by courting  
Her as a shepherdess; and shows the world,  
That more than Chance conduced to her greatness.  
Immerit persons may be born thus, but  
By wise folks, they will ne'er be chosen to it.  
And such Theander's known to all the world.  
I could have told Theander the whole truth  
When he would needs ask my consent to wed  
My erst neglected child, but that I would not  
Lessen those great contents he seemed to take  
In his Arcadia, that a Cottage had  
Brought forth a person fit to be a Princess.  
But chief I reflected on the dark  
Meandrous paths of fate, and gratified  
My former sufferance, by being now admitted  
Into its Counsels, and the Prospect of  
Its hidden steps: Till now, it thinks not fit,  
I longer should enjoy the privilege  
It hath denied the more deserving world.  
For witness of all this, I do invoke  
Those powers who never testify untruths,  
And here produce those small remains of Greatness  She shows several very rich Jewels. 
Misfortune yet hath left me. See here, great Prince  
That so famed Jewel, which so many Kings  
Of Thrace have worn, and with such veneration  
Have still preserved, on an old Prophecy,  
This should preserve the Thracian Family.  King. 
I need no Testimony but those words  
All Queens might blush to hear from Cottagers.  
But is it possible so mean a place  
So long should hold great Cleopatra?  
How could she lift her eyes to Heaven, beneath  
So low a roof? When they looked up for mercy,  
How were they minded of its Cruelty?  
Unheard of Patience!—  Cleopat. 
Know, great Prince, and know it  
From one who hath experimented greatness too;  
When I had satisfied myself, in my  
Endeavours of regaining my lost Rights,  
And saw it all unprosperous (as if  
Heaven long enough had given one Family  
The privilege to govern other folks)  
I was as well content to be the first  
Must learn to act again with common people,  
As he who first was called from them to rule;  
And did endeavour by my Virtue to  
Deserve again what (possibly) my sin  
Had made me lose. And thus I found in patience,  
As much content in suffering, as I did  
In Moderation in prosperity.  
And paid to Heaven, as true, as real thanks  
For this, as e'er I did for that.—  King. 
Great Queen,  
The Prophecy is now fulfilled: That Jewel  
Will serve to satisfy the world as much  
Of all you say, as your own words have me:  
And thus preserve the Thracian Family.—  Embraceth and kisseth Urania. 
Dear Daughter.— Still be happy— And forgive  
Our ignorance.— I cannot love thee better,  
Then at that very time I did condemn thee;  
I could as well have sentenced my two eyes.  Salutes Cleopatra. 
And pardon us, dear sister, if we first  
Asked pardon where we did most need it.— Call  
Our Queen immediatley, and tell Cleantha,  
Urania is alive.—  Pyrrh. 
I shall be proud  
To be the Messenger.—  Exit Pyrrh. Trumpets without. King. 
What's that?— The Prince is come.—  lord 
The Prince is come.—  King 
What will Theander say, to see his dear  
Urania thus attired at his return?  
Vran. He'll say you're merciful.—  Enter Queen and Cleantha. King. 
My Queen! See here great Cleopatra,  
And call her Sister.— Take Cleantha, take  
Her thou hast wept for— Pyrrhus hath told you  
All Heaven's goodness.—  The Queen Salutes Cleopatra, then runs and embraceth Urania. Enter Theander. King. 
See here the Prince.— My Son.—  
Never more welcome.— Never did more joy  
Spring from more sorrow.—  He sixeth his eyes on Uran. Theand. 
— Bless me, dread Sir!  
What scene doth entertain me?— Are your joys  
Expressed by sacrifice?—  King. 
Theander, take,  
Take thy Urania, and wonder not  
At any thing but her.—  Theand. 
My Triumphs more  
Affright me then my conquests.—  Queen. 
My Son, be happy  
In thy best choice.— Let not thy wonder make  
Us longer languish.—  Theand. 
Madam, I will believe,  Salutes the Queen. 
And hope in time to understand— Dear Cozen.  Goes to salute Cleantha, who steps back▪ Cleanth. 
— Sir, when you first have done  
Your merited respects unto the Queen  
Of Thrace, your Mother; then to your Urania  
I shall be thankful for the honour you  
Too early do vouchsafe me.—  Theand. 
I must obey  
What Heaven knows when I shall understand.  Salutes Cleopatra. 
This is an earlier tribute than I thought  Embraceth Urania, who cries on him. 
To pay yourlips.— My dear Urania, why  
Dost thou conspire to my distraction?— Why  
This Black?— And why these tears?—  King. 
Heaven bless you both;  
And may your Love's increase still with your days:  
May you be fresh as spring, as Autumn fruitful,  
And know no Winter of adversity:  
And Heaven that hath done wonders in your Loves,  
May it do wonders in th' effects of it.—  They both bow to the King, and then step a little aside and talk together. Enter Priest. Priest. 
A day full of wonders.—  King. 
Aday  
All miracle.— How merciful is Heaven  
To those it loves?— Who would be ever Bad,  
When Virtuous folks are thus rewarded in  
The midst of their distress?—  The Prince returns to the company again. Theand. 
Cousin—  Salutes the Princess. 
Your pardon.— Happy is this meeting.  
I am obliged for all the joy I see  Bows to the company. 
Start out of sorrow now at my return.  Cleant. 
Heaven give you joy of your Urania.  Theand. 
You have obliged me Madam, that you have  
Dealt still so gently with your servant.  Cleant. 
She ne'er  
Had been esteemed so, had you esteemed  
Me worthy of your Council, Sir; but now  
I shall endeavour to repay her all  
Those services I have received from her.  Theand. 
She's still your servant, Cozen.—  Cleant. Aside. 
How can there be such mirth; when brave  
Lives sadly in an unjust banishment?  Endymion Theand. 
I long to ease my wonder, and to know  
The story of great Cleopatra; how  
She'th been so long obscured to all the world,  
But, to herself.—  King. 
We'll find a scene for that,  
Less like the face of sorrow, 'Tis enough  
Urania is a Princess, and had Fortune  
In aught but in her blindness been like justice,  
Had worn the Crown of Thrace.— Only my Daughter,  
My dear Urania, ask me on this place,  
I so have injured thee, what I shall do  
To expiate my ignorance of thy worth.  
Ask what thou wilt, I shall not find a tongue  
To give thee a denial.  Vran. 
Great Prince, I do not  
Want a request, had I but merit to  
Deserve it first, than confidence to ask it.  King. 
Ask it; or you choose the perfectest way  
To disoblige me.— What is it?—  Uran. 
It is  
Endymion's Liberty.— 'Twas by his goodness,  
I lived to see this day, whose only Cloud  
Is his confinement.— Pardon the boldness Sir  
You're pleased to give me; and the gratitude  
I hope the Gods will never take from me.  King. 
You have my word, do with it what you please.  
Endymion shall have his liberty.—  
I shall give order for it.—  Theand. 
Your pardon Sir,  
If your commands already are obeyed.  
Endymion is returned.— I met him ere  
He was embarked, and having been informed,  
From my Urania, all his cares for her,  
I stayed him, hoping from your goodness to  
Obtain his pardon.— For the love Cleantha  
So truly bears him, I have no more to say  
Against it, then against my own I bore  
To my Urania, when I thought her less.  
And since the Gods have made her great for me,  
'Twill be but gratitude in me to do  
Some of their business for them, and reward  
So brave a Virtue as Endymion owns,  
And make him great for his Cleantha too.  
Especially, since by their goodness, I  
Have power to do it.— The war in Thessaly  
Hath found a happy end.— And there I've left  
Those hands which made that Sceptre stoop, who now  
Want but a scene to do new wonders in.  
And this may prove rebellious Thrace, if you  
(Dread Sir) approve it fit I wear that Crown  
Urania gives me. In this expedition,  
And in this conquest too, the brave Endymion  
Shall be my second.— What shall I not expect from  
Such Virtue and such Valour when they meet?  King. 
I have of late received such mercies, that  
I cannot think of any thing which looks  
Like cruelty.— And in my condemnations,  
Heaven hath done miracles, to keep me from  
Horrid injustice. Therefore wonder not,  
All that you ask is so soon granted you.—  
Cleantha, take then thy Endymion, be  
More blessed in him then greatness e'er could make thee.  Cleantha bows. Queen. 
And now you're doing works of mercy Sir,  
Hear one entreaty more, (not for their sakes  
For whom I ask, but for this days sake, which  
Hath been a day of mercy to us all.)  
Let not Neander, nor old Geron die.  
A banishment for life, will more prepare  
Them for their deaths; and thus your mercy shall  
Best fit them for the mercy of the Gods.  King. 
What you propose, hath much of piety  
And mercy too (the works of this day) and  
Mayn't be denied.— And now I've one request  
To you my honoured Priest (because I'd give  
Joy to all honest hearts this day) your leave,  
That Pyrrhus (my best confident) may serve  
The fair Evadne.—  Priest. 
Great Prince, I am obliged,  
My poor Evadne is so much your care:  
It shall be mine, she still shall think that best  
Your majesty is pleased to choose for her.  Enter Endymion. Theand. 
Endymion! Why so slowly to thy joys?  
Reap here the fruits of gratitude and mercy,  
And see those Stars again thou dost adore.  Takes him by the hand, and leads him to Cleantha, who knelt down and kisseth her hand. Cleant. 
Welcome, my lord—  Queen. 
My Lord, you're welcome from your banishment.  King. 
've only now this Ladies leave to ask  
For any thing you'd have—  Endym. 
I'm happy in  
Your royal mercy Sir, and hope in time.  
To be so too in hers.—  King. 
You need not fear  
Your sentence, when Cleantha is your judge.—  
But let us all away, and satisfy—  
Ourselves with what 've so long travelled with;  
And let the world learn from this story, though  
Heaven may a while correct the Virtuous,  
Yet will it wipe their eyes again, and make  
Their Faces whiter with their tears. Innocence  
Concealed is the stolen-pleasure of the Gods,  
Which never ends in shame, as that of men  
Doth ofttimes do; but like the Sun breaks forth,  
When it hath gratified another world,  
And to our unexpecting eyes appears  
More Glorious through its late obscurity.  Priest. 
Unvertuous folks a while may find some Rest;  
But in the end, the good are only blessed.  Exeunt Omn.  
FINIS.